(song: "Cold" by Aqualung feat. Lucy Schwartz)
We stay silent and in pain for some time until we are interrupted. I look up at Agent Coulson, a middle aged man in a suit, plain the eyes. He is second in command here at S.H.I.E.L.D. and is their eyes and ears that are kept to the ground. He stands at the entrance to the room in which holds the glass prison we are locked in.
It's silent for a moment before he says, "I'd like to speak to her." And two guards walk over to the sealed door to prepare to open it.
"Attempt to escape, and we won't hesitate to kill you," Coulson says plainly to the Asgardian.
Loki isn't in the mood to talk, his eyes stay cold and he ignores the man, continuing to read his book.
I slip back on my jacket and stand up, walking over to the door to ask Coulson, "Are you taking me for interrogation?"
"More like a conversation," he says with an empty, business toned smile. "Step to the door please."
Just then the guards open the lock and wait for me to exit.
I slowly walk out of the cell while saying, "I wonder what kind of questions are going to be asked in this 'conversation'."
They shut the door and lock it again before Coulson walks up to meet me, the guards readying hand cuffs to make sure I behave.
"Those won't be necessary," the man tells them. And they put them away. "Miss?" Coulson gestures ahead for me to go first out of the room with him.
I slightly nod my head and say, "Thank you," as I walk past him.
Coulson leads me to a comfortable room with a window wall, unlike a room for interrogating would be like. He offers beverages and I gladly take some coffee. But after a moment he cuts the chitchat and speaks calmly to me, "I don't normally like to have someone on our ship that I don't know anything about."
"Well then, ask your questions," I say as I take a gulp of the coffee and would normally prefer sweetener if I was myself from a week ago. But I have had so much of it now that it doesn't bother me and I drink the hot cup of energy fast with no reaction.
"We pulled your records. It seems you have a history with us. And I believe you know of someone named Ian Lowe?" Coulson brings out a folder and sets it on the table between us.
I am paying attention but when he asks that something inside me freeze ice cold. I look down and say in a very quiet voice, "Yes... Yes I knew him."
"He had history with us a bit different than the kind you had. He wasn't allowed to tell others of his involvement with S.H.I.E.L.D. But he was a respected agent. Are you two related?"
I shakily take a sip of coffee and feel the hot liquid run down my throat. I set the cup down before saying, "He was my fiancé."
"We're sorry for what happened. Loki has a lot to answer for... And the sooner we find find the Tesseract, the sooner we can deal with him... The others seem to trust you. Captain Rogers informed me of your gifts and motives. It seems you have a lot in common with them. I know that you want to be contained, and that I will keep allowing. Because unlike Mr. Lowe, you pose a threat to us. It's not easy to hack into our main frame. But you managed. We'll keep you where you want to be and have no charges put on you in return for a favor."
I raise my eyebrows and ask, "And what kind of favor would this be?"
"One that would benefit us both, Miss Mason... Agent Romanoff seems to believe you are the key to getting answers from Loki. We ask that you get him to tell you where the Tesseract is. Can you do that?"
"I can try. However, if you have reviewed the security tapes, I'm sure anyone can tell we aren't exactly the best of buddies. I think I'm the last person he would tell."
"On the contrary. I think you're the only person we've seen so far who can take him. And we're glad to see he's finally met his match... I don't know the details of your gifts, Miss Mason. But remember, there are two ways to get information from someone and only one of those ways is a friendly one," he says with meaning behind the words.
"Are you suggesting that if I can't get him to tell it to me when I ask nicely, that I should torture him?" I ask with a raised brow.
"It seems you've already been doing just that, and without question. We don't want to be drastic. But simply want to inform you that sometimes threats are necessary when dealing with people like him."
I cross my arms and say, "Alright, I'll try. And you'll keep me locked up with him if I do this?"
"We will. Just as long as you promise not to let it get ugly," he hasn't wiped the resting expression of his that seems to be a slight smile as he speaks.
"I'll try my best," I say with a small smirk.
Just then someone enters the room. It's another agent with dark brown hair, a woman. "Sir, Director Fury wishes to speak with you," she says.
He nods and stands up. "Agent Hill, escort Esther back to her cell please," he says to her.
She obeys once the man leaves and leads me from the room and down the hall. "So Esther, you a friend or foe? Word is you hacked us recently but other word is you plan on helping us get the Tesseract," she says as we walk.
"Neither. True that I did hack, but it was only to find out about where Loki was. And I plan on getting him to tell me where the Tesseract is," I say.
"I hope you do it soon. I don't know how much longer we can contain these guys without a fight breaking out."
"I'll work as fast as I can, but with him, it will take time to get him to tell me. We aren't exactly pals, so it might be a challenge. But I'm always up for a good challenge."
"You may not braid each other's hair and gossip about boys but you'll get information from him. At least Coulson seems to think so."
We arrive at the cell and she lets me back in. Loki looking bored and reading still, not acknowledging my reentry.
I go and sit in my chair and I look at the wall while pursing my lips. How am I going to get him to tell me? Maybe I could give subtle hints and see if he gives any clues. Or I could just ask him. Or I could annoy him to the point to where he just tells me. The options are endless.
But he wouldn't fall for those. I look at him, studying his behavior and mind.
Would he be the type to fall for the innocent broken little girl?
Would he be the type to give in to the threats?
Would he be the type to give in to being distracted by me playing nice?
Or would he give in to torture?
Something tells me he doesn't find me threatening. He's too cocky for that. But that leaves me with three other options...
I calculate in my mind on how I am to go about doing this and once I get a plan I begin.
Act one: the innocent little girl.
I stand up and wander over to the chair at the other side of the table he sits by. I sit on the cold metal, staring at the ground with emptiness.
It's silent for a moment before I say, "Tell me your story..." in a quiet mutter, as if I feel like I need to know it.
He hesitates for a moment and I don't look over at him. I just try to seem as emotional as my emotionless expression will allow.
"Why would you care?" he asks plainly as he reads.
I smirk on the inside from his reply. He replied. Which means this is going well so far.
But now I need to say something cheesy; something to get him to talk to me.
"Because I need a sign that you're not just a demon sent to torture me. I think I would go mad. Just tell me why your story is so much worse than mine." I stare ahead still.
He hesitates. He is tempted to tell me, I know. But he is also doesn't want to speak to me at all, the same hatred for me in his soul that I have for him.
Yet I play it like I care.
"You act like you have had it horrid your whole life," he spats. "But until you've spent your entire existence in pain, do not speak to me."
I resist yelling at him, to stay focused. Come on Esther say something human.
"Your anger is hiding pain, Asgardian," I say with a little sadness in my tone, looking down at the floor. "I know you want to tell someone... so just tell me. Tell me why you are so cruel... tell me why you..." more emotion gently pours through my words as I speak.
He is looking at me now but I don't return his gaze. "You don't deserve to know anything about me, and I am not going to sit here and watch you try and make me cry like you. I want you to answer me truthfully on why you want to know my story."
Alright time for all I got. I look up at him then, with the most pathetic expression I can conjure, eyes wide like a child and hinting at coming tears, brows slouched back in sadness.
It may not stab him, but it does prick him a bit. I can tell when his eyes meet mine that he holds back the tiniest amount of sympathy in his dark soul as he tries to keep his expression ice cold.
"I told you," I say louder with a slightly broken voice. "I need to know you're real! I need to know you have a heart! Then maybe I can shake this horrid feeling inside me that I can't escape!" I can do better than that.
"And what feeling is that?" he stays cold.
"That I don't like killing people!" I finally snap. Okay that was good. I glaze it with some tears and look away from him a little. "I'm not like you," I mutter. "I can't just kill people..."
He hesitates for a long moment before saying, "You wish to hear my story? Very well. From the moment I was born my own father cast me aside after leaving my mother to die. I was left on a frozen rock awaiting the same fate. I was then stolen by the King of Asgard who proceeded to lie to me, telling me I was born of the queen and one of his own just like his real son whom was a year older. I spent my entire life in the shadow of the great Prince of Asgard believing that I could be king, when in reality I was never considered. I was born to be a king," he tells his story as if he is telling me a ghost tale, his tone dark as if he is threatening someone with his words. "My false father told me this day after day. I was bathed in lies and torn by the hope that I had yet to learn was my enemy." He becomes angry. "I was ridiculed every day for years, bullied by the warrior kids who thought my reading a waste of time. What fools they were. I was tormented by such primitive beings just because I was different. They all spent their time training and jesting and look where it got them? Half of them died when they finally went to battle. Years of trying to fit in with their crowd was a waste of time, and the years spent trying to make my family proud an even more wasteful activity. They never cared. And when I finally saw that I could begin a life of my own. Before that the only comfort I had was that I knew it would be different some day. I would be king. My rightful place. I would be adored and looked up to. I would finally get to rule the people how I knew would be the right way... the people that I loved and Nine Realms I thought was a part of," he spats as if he regrets thinking those thoughts ever. "And when I was told the truth it destroyed me. Because I found out the words I was told my entire life had been a lie. Everything was a lie," he speaks through his teeth. "I didn't belong there. They didn't love me. I was a stolen relic; a Frost Giant awaiting to die out among those wretched people after a lifetime of preparing for nothing! Do you have any idea what a Frost Giant is to Asgardians?! They are the monster parents tell their children of at night! You may have had your home taken from you but I had no home to begin with!" he cracks.
I try to look heartbroken. Of course I find his story pathetic. I can tell right away that all those things about him not being loved are utter bullshit by searching his head. He was blinded by demons to see his life as a curse. But there's something else in there that holds everything he knows and turns it into a self righteous and psychotic anger; a justification for any crimes or horrid thing he could commit. It's like some kind of barrier and I have no clue what it is.
Of course some small part of me feels bad for his childhood self but what he chose to do with his life is why I don't pity him.
I look away from his gaze as if I am holding back sympathy. And I let my face scrunch up in pain and sorrow. I look up at him with the biggest puppy dog eyes I can form, while still staying convincing and not over-doing it. "You don't have to do this," I whimper. "Just because your past was bad, doesn't mean you have to poison your entire life with it. You aren't what happened to you... You can be—"
"I will be a king... It is what I was born to be. That is my birthright and my purpose."
Time for convincing. "Loki why are you doing this to yourself? Why do you cause yourself this pain? This is all your fault. There is no throne for you here. What you're doing is just digging yourself a deeper hole that's going to lead in either death or prison for life. No matter how many of us mortals you slaughter, no one will bow to you. To rule the people you must have their favor, or else they will always hate you and you will live forever in darkness... Do you really want that?" I speak quietly and gently to "show my belly" to him in sympathy and vulnerability that is completely covered by an invisible shield. He can't hurt me, but I want him to believe that he can, that I can be sensitive. I let a tear slip from my eye. "You don't have to live like that... You can leave this all behind. Just run from the people that are hunting you and leave. Go somewhere where you can be great. Don't throw away your life for people who don't deserve you." Lies. Well at least the last part was. We obviously deserve way better...
"You are unbearably naïve," he spats at me. But there is something in his eyes that wants to say more; affected by my words. He swallows subtly.
I think I have him.
I shut my eyes and look down as if he hurt me with those words. I try to wipe the tears away with my hands. "I don't want to be here either, Loki...," I whimper with a shattered voice. "I have nothing, just like you..." Not really true. At least I have my mind in tact.
I look to the camera in the room... knowing that they're recording us. So I instead speak I his mind. "Let's just find the Tesseract and use it to get the hell off this planet... We can both just go somewhere so far away no one we knew will matter. We can start completely again and be what we want..." I eye him as if pleading but also seeming like it's really what I want. I mean it doesn't sound too bad but obviously if I left I'd want him to be dead first. Then I could be free.
But I deliver my last line. "You have more chance of a throne out there than here... And we can finally be free of this wretched... horrible world..." trail off a little as my shoulders start to tremble as I cry.
He doesn't reply for a long moment and I think that's a good sign.
I think he's about to say something but I reach out and grab his hand that is on the table and he doesn't speak, taken aback by it as he looks at me with something working from me. Even he cannot be completely heartless to his little girl I have masked myself as.
I look at him with tears falling down my cheeks. "Please," I beg with a quiet, dead voice. "Please if there is someone—anyone in there with a heart you would just end this," I use cheesy words but say them with a convincing, heartbroken tone.
He hesitates, his eyes blank.
I shut my own eyes and grip his hand with both of mine as I lean my head down against them. "Please I know there's someone in there... Please I beg of you. Do you know how many innocent people are going to die if you do this? Thousands of people—families and children! Please..."
There is a long pause before he finally leans forward to speak quietly, yet harshly. "I have come too far to let it all burn out now. I will do what I came here for and nothing will stop me. I am a god. And my purpose before me is my right. I will take it."
Well that didn't work. But now I need to calm down. I don't get it. Why the hell does his "glorious purpose" seem so irrational?
He pulls his hand from mine and I back away off the table, crying into my hands for a little longer as would naturally happen. And it bothers him. That's a bonus. "I knew you were heartless," I whisper as I finish up, trying to stop crying.
.
.
STEVE:
I take a deep breath as I watch the screens. We're gathered here in the main room that overlooks the enormous windows. I look serious as I think about all that just happened but that's when Natasha next to me says something very quietly, "She's a good little actress."
I look at her. I didn't think she was faking it but I suppose Romanoff would know better than me. I watch Esther break down and the other guy just ignores her. "Well Loki's gonna drag this out. So Thor, what's his play?"
The Asgardian is deep in thought, no doubt about the story his brother had told. But he snaps out of it to appear casual. "Loki has an army called the Chitauri. They're not of Asgard nor any world known. He means to lead them against your people. They will win him the Earth, in return, I suspect, for the Tesseract."
"An army... from outer space."
"So, he's building another portal," Banner adds. "That's what he needs Eric Selvig for."
"Selvig?" Thor questions.
"He's an astrophysicist."
"He's a friend."
"Loki has him under some kind of spell," Romanoff says to him, "...along with one of ours." She looks away. I didn't know the man she speaks of but I would guess they were close. Maybe that's what she was upset about the other day?
"I want to know why Loki let us take him. He's not leading an army from here," I say.
"I don't think we should focus on Loki. That guy's a bag of cats. You can smell crazy on him," Banner tells us.
"But what about her? Do we really think she can get the answers out of him?" Romanoff says.
"In her abilities she said she could read minds. I wonder if there's a way she could find out through that," I say.
"Esther doesn't appear to be well trained with her gifts. It seems hard for her to use them correctly," Thor observes.
"And I don't think we should be relying on her for the fate of mankind. She seems a little unstable," Agent Hill comments.
"We need to focus on the mechanics. Iridium... What do they need iridium for?" Banner asks.
"It's a stabilizing agent," Stark says, entering the room at last. "It means the portal wont collapse on itself like it did at S.H.I.E.L.D. Also it means the portal can open as wide, and stay open, as long as Loki wants." He steps up to the bridge where Director Fury stands normally, the center surrounded by his screens and monitors for vigilance. "Raise the mizzenmast. Jib the topsails," he says to the workers around him. "That man is playing Galaga," he accuses someone in the room. "Thought we wouldn't notice, but we did..."
A few more bad jokes get tossed from his way before he gets to the point. "The rest of the raw materials, Agent Barton can get his hands on pretty easily," he plays with the controls. "The only major component he still needs is a power source of high-energy density. Something to kick-start the cube."
"When did you become an expert in thermonuclear astrophysics?" Hill asks.
"Last night. The packet, Selvig's notes, the extraction theory papers. Am I the only one who did the reading?"
"Does Loki need any particular kind of power source?" I ask, trying to get back on topic.
"He would have to heat the Cube to one hundred, twenty million Kelvin just to break through the Coulomb barrier," Banner thinks.
"Unless Selvig has figured out how to stabilize the quantum tunneling effect," Stark explains.
"Well if he could do that he could achieve heavy ion fusion at any reactor on the planet."
"Finally, someone who speaks English," Stark mocks us and approaches the doctor. Really?
"Is that what just happened?" I mutter in anger. All of this is certainly educational but once again we are not focusing on the main problems here... And no one seems to understand the longer we waste time the more people out there die to Loki's men.
The two science whizzes speak quietly and I look up at Thor.
"So Loki's final ingredient has yet to be discovered," the man mutters as he thinks deeply.
"Wouldn't be anything of Stark's, would it?" I ask the other two here with me.
Romanoff has her eyes set seriously on me before she glances down in thought.
.
.
.
ESTHER:
He doesn't speak anymore. I don't know if he's reading or just thinking but he doesn't say a word.
I take a deep breath and open my eyes to look ahead of me. "I can't do this to myself," I murmur in a breath. "I can't be left alone with my thoughts. I need to be distracted..."
Time for act two: playing nice.
"I'm going to pretend you're someone else and we're going to play a questions game," I say as my eyes are focused ahead.
"What? Why?" he demands.
"Because I can't stand the silence and I can't cry anymore... So I'm going to ask you random and unimportant mundane questions and you're going to fucking answer them and ask me the same. I'm going to stay distracted or I will either choke you to death or cry my eyes out." I still keep my eyes ahead. Though I sounded angry, I try to keep a healing sensitive tone as if I am trying to calm down and make myself happy again. I say "try" because I fail miserably, sounding like a caged animal.
"Fine," he answers plainly, not wishing for either of those outcomes.
"What's your favorite color?" I start.
He looks at me oddly. "The whole world is at war, I am the only thing standing between you and freedom, I killed your family, and you want to know what my favorite color is—?"
"Just answer the damn question—"
"Green."
"Now it's your turn."
"What is yours?" he asks with no care whatsoever.
"Blue. What is your worst fear?"
"My past. What is yours?"
"My future. What's your weapon of choice?" I speak through my teeth.
"My dagger. What is yours?"
"A nuclear bomb. What's your middle name?"
"Pardon?"
I look at him finally with a blank stare. "Your middle name. Do you not have one?" I ask.
He just lifts a brow.
"Okay, so you don't have one. That's weird. Your turn."
"How old are you, mortal?"
"Twenty-two. You?"
"One thousand forty-six."
I widen my eyes in disbelief and say, "Well, you sure don't look that age."
"And what age do I look to a human?" he asks plainly.
I look at him and he returns my gaze I just squint at his features. "I'd say about twenty-eight."
"You mortals certainly die off fast then," he says with his brows pulled together as he looks ahead once more.
"Well I don't believe anyone needs to live that long. We lose our usefulness after a while," I say with no emotion and look away as well.
"Only if you have it to begin with."
I snicker. "Can you not go five minutes without insulting someone entire race?" I look at him.
"Oh but you make it so easy," he smirks with devious eyes that stare into mine, hinting at mockery.
Play nice. Well... not too nice. "Is that what women say to you a lot, ass rabbit?" I sass in return.
"Oh you'd certain like me to be easy wouldn't you, darling—?"
"I am about to slap you so hard, your teeth will bleed," I say angrily as I put my hands on the table.
"Oh. Now I'm frightened."
"I hate you."
"Your feelings are returned, d—"
"Call me darling one more time and I swear I'll pull out your eyes and make you swallow them."
"You're such a charming woman."
"Says the man who murders people for fun."
He laughs with a clawing sarcasm and looks away, shaking his head. "You are more ignorant than humanly possible." What does he mean?
"Then educate me," I challenge.
"Forget it. I don't owe you any explanation," he says coldly.
Playing nice... playing sensitive. You can do this, Esther. I take a deep breath. "Well it's my turn. And my question is: What are you hiding? And now you have to answer because that's the rules."
"I was never one for rules," he smirks.
"Neither am I. So tell me, Asgardian."
"Why would I hide anything from you?" he snaps, "You mean nothing to me."
I chuckle with no humor as I say, "Tell me something I don't know. And I think it's kind of adorable when you try to lie to me."
"And what was it that I lied about, Esther? That I am not hiding something?"
"Everyone hides something," I state, my eyes poking into his head to try and find it. But the barrier keeps me from going deep into his present state. He had mentioned his past was cold and dark, but all I can see in it is the darkness of his soul, something eating at him and convincing him he's nothing. Those thoughts are demons. And he is possessed by so many. To the point where I'm not sure he could ever be free. They have turned him into a monster.
Even now he is possessed by something greater and the scary part is I have no idea what it is.
"And I am going to find out what it is, along with the location of the Tesseract," I continue.
"So confident," he sneers. "But you won't get anywhere with that. And telling me your motive won't help you avenge your family."
"You don't know what I am capable of," I say to him, fire in me.
He almost rolls his eyes as he is done with me and looks ahead.
I try not to choke him to death there, feeling my hands ball into fists and my blood boil in my veins. I clench my teeth and look away. I can't let this anger get the best of me, or I won't get anything I want. I have to focus and continue talking. "I want to go back to pretending you're someone else..." I say angrily through my teeth. I feel fury slowly creeping back in as I realize playing nice isn't working either.
"Fine," he agrees with spite.
"It's your turn."
"Why do you insist on being locked in here with me?"
"Because I don't want you to try and escape. And I want to be there when you give your information to them in order for me to immediately and personally pull the life from your useless body and drag your soul to the depths of hell where it was born. My turn. Have you ever killed anyone so personally that you have to watch the life leave them?"
"No. My turn. What are all of your powers?" he says plainly.
That answer surprises me. But I remember that he wasn't actually the one that killed my parents. He just had a grocery list that a few mercenaries took care of and weren't hesitant to get their hands dirty. But that changes nothing. "Telekinesis, telepathy, elemental manipulation, and teleportation."
He looks over at me with something dark in his eyes but with a little surprise. "You can read minds?" he asks in a way that sounds less of a question but a realization.
I hesitate before saying, "Yes."
He leans forward with a threat. "You better stay out of my head or I swear mortal, you will regret it!" he says defensively with fury in his eyes but also something he tries to hide and that's worry.
I know that there is only one thing left: act three: torture.
I smirk. I definitely have something I can use against him now. He's worried. And having a worried person is good. It means he's hiding something and I plan on finding out what it is. "Worried I'll see something you don't want me to see? Well guess what. I do what I want," I say as I go deep in his mind and search his memories.
Immediately I see the best mixed with the worst in his head. I see a child falling down and crying because of the ridicule he received, it torturing his soul. Even as a child he was in so much pain. His demons took him at a young age and caused him so much torture in his being. I see his mother comforting him as she dries his tears, cheering him up by showing him her magic tricks, the innocent little boy smiling in wonder as watches. I see him and his brother, young they are, and laughing from a prank they pulled on a friend of their father's. I see a king, so disappointed, yet doting on his firstborn, Thor Odinson. He saw him as the king to be. He saw him as a young version of himself. A great man he is, yes, but what wasn't seen is how neglected Loki felt in his shadow. That tore at him for so many years. It reminds me of something my father once said. From neglect, serial killers are born. Criminals begin as children misled by their parents or even being without one of them or both. Odin was a king and there were limits to how he could be there for his sons. But still there are poor decisions in him. There are things he could have done to stop this. He didn't see it but a villain was being created in the dark of their childhood. Loki never knew right from wrong. He was only able to be parented occasionally from his mother. But that's not enough. Children need a father and a mother both. The unity of how a family is supposed to work. Without a father, the child doesn't get the encouragement and the discipline he needs. The rock; the foundation of his childhood was nonexistent. He raised himself and built himself from only his circumstances. And that killed the good in him. All he heard was the voice of the deceiver.
I also see his banishment, falling into an abyss never to see his family again. I see his mother weeping, holding his helmet after her son has disappeared forever. I see there was once love and goodness, now just turned to hatred and anger.
All this happens in a split second.
I go deeper to find what evil he has lied about, and anything else I want. I try to find heartlessness but all I find is brokenness. I see an innocent and heartbroken little boy who seeks praise from his father, yet gets a cold shoulder. I see his older brother playing with him, love in his eyes. Yet the desperate child, wanting only to please them, receives pain from the rejection that would always follow him. The only thing that kept him hoping was his father telling him he would be king someday. A hope arises in this small child and grows with age. He knows he's meant for great things. He loves his people and wants to rule as a just man, like his father whom he still looked up to. But year after year he is shadowed by his older brother who doesn't understand Loki's bitterness. Thor was meant to be king. And he was always meant to be king; the firstborn.
I see heart ache. I see pain like I could never imagine. I see thoughts of suicide and a horrid feeling of complete worthlessness those demons told him to believe. He masked it with a smile. He was always up for a game. But on the inside he was being torn apart. And when one is hurt... they hurt others. That's how it is. That misery turns to anguish when he is told the truth of his origins. He is a monster. This he believed. The devil told him so. And in that he crumbled into nothing. He shattered to pieces. The only thing he ever cared about was his family, his friends, and his people. He wanted to be their equal. He wanted to rule his people with the young dreams of doing it right. He wanted to be a part of the world he loved. But he thought then, that he had no connection once this happened. His life, the love his family had showed him, all lies. Little did he know he was the one being lied to by the deceiver.
This didn't stop from tearing him apart. He fell into a darkness of grief and torturous pain until he began to hate. He began to wear the smile as one of evil. He thought he was justified in his actions. He thought he deserved more. He found his way to the throne and when he finally got it, he tried... he tried hard to be the king he was waiting his whole existence to be; to make his adopted father proud. He tried to do what was right for his people, even if he used horrid ways to do so. In trying to be what he felt was right, he only hurt the people he loved. And when he realized it, he was too late. He left his people behind.
But all of this still doesn't add up. The horrible things he's done and his motives and what he is now. It doesn't make sense. It's like he has no heart at all. It's like there's something that's controlling him; taking everything he is and locking it away beyond his reach, only bringing out his anger and hate and all the bad things and amplifying it for some purpose. It's like he's some puppet. Because even after all that has happened to him he wouldn't be the person he is now; this mindless monster who wants a throne and will kill anyone to get it. It's garbage. It's a distraction for something pulling his strings. And it's not just the deceiver. It's something more physical.
That's when I see flashes of something so painful it causes myself the same agony. Flashes of images fade through my head as I see someone torturing him, with dark magic. I see a huge figure of wine colored flesh and a devious grin worse than Loki's, does something to the Asgardian. After a whole year of treacherous misery, being possessed by evil, darkness shoved down his throat, and death teaching him that murder is only a six letter word, he is changed. Something horrible takes a hold of his head and poisons him. I can hear him screaming in anguish, the pain tearing into me now that I can feel his own in his memories, agony that rips him to pieces like some kind of voodoo doll to be stabbed repeatedly in order to cause someone else pain.
I am stuck. I am lost inside his head and I can't escape. I have dug too deep. It hurts. Everything hurts. I feel it all. I feel all of his anguish and misery. I feel his whole life in my veins.
He has been trapped in this shield for a year. And now so am I.
At my attempt to escape this barrier over his mind I cry out (or I think I do) and shatter the walls of my prison. I yank myself free, watching everything crumble.
I feel like I fall on my butt on the ground with my palms on the hard cold floor.
It all turns black...
Darkness surrounds me.
It's quiet...
I feel weary.
There is a memory that reveals itself... I can tell it is his most precious. It's his mother telling him how much she loves him as a little child, his tiny hands in hers and so much joy in his little green eyes... Green? I thought his eyes were turquoise blue...
This small child is completely innocent and content as he watches her conjure a tiny animal of light (one that I don't recognize so it must be Asgardian), letting it dance through the air as he reaches out to touch it... But this all ends and it flashes forward to the last moment he saw her. He sees the disappointment in her eyes, the shame for him, the heartbreak... From what he did destroyed her... and it kills him and I know at that moment that's what constantly screams inside of him, tearing his heart to pieces, turning his soul to darkness. Here is emotion. Here is life that is inside him... Care...
And Love.
He loves her—
Hands slamming down on the table finally yank me from his thoughts and I see clearly again as he stands up and shouts with a burning hatred, "How dare you?! How dare you use that memory?! That belongs to me!" He flips over the small table and lets the books and empty cups crash on the ground. His rage is like nothing I've seen so far in him and his eyes glaze over, the burning tears wanting to escape. "Leave her out of this! Stay out of my head!"
I am gasping for breath and I am on the ground, like I had thought, as I look up at him, fear in my eyes as this rage terrifies me. My hands would tremble if they weren't stable on the ground to hold me up on this pathetic crab position, eyes bleeding tears from everything I was feeling in such a small amount of time.
He shuts his mouth, something completely broken deep within his eyes that haze in pink. He looks furious, holding back the temptation to kill me right here and this time for a motive much more powerful than before. "If you ever do that to me again, I won't hesitate to kill you myself," he threatens in a much more terrifying way than I was expecting. "This group of mortals known as S.H.I.E.L.D. can't stop me! They can't kill me or the Tesseract is lost! There's nothing stopping me from ending your life, you worthless little demon! So hear me when I say, if you ever force my memories back to me you won't be alive to regret it!"
I stand up angrily with my hands on fire and scream, "Then why am I still alive?! I have nothing on this planet anymore! Everything I love has been taken away from me! Why have you not killed me yet?! Do you care for me?! Just kill me already!"
He grabs my neck and lifts my feet off the ground, conjuring a blade of ice in one hand, ready to drive it through my throat.
I don't fight back. If he's going to kill me, I have oddly expected it. I don't care if I die here. I can go back to my home if I do. And I want to test him. Would he really do it?
His wide eyes stare into mine, not with hatred but anger, pure rage that controls him completely, an irrational fury that forces him to do horrible things. It has drowned what was left of him in darkness and has turned him into something completely sickening.
I stare back, my eyes hard... or at least I try to make them that way. Somehow all of a sudden my life flashes before my eyes and dashes around in my thoughts until I feel more pain in my head than I would if I were stabbed right now by him.
His eyes are still tugging at tears from the memories of his that have made a reappearance.
I wait for my inevitable death... but it doesn't come. My skin shivers from his Frost Giant fingers that grip my throat, his eyes staring into my soul to try and conjure up the will to end my life.
I don't get it. He's killed almost a hundred people. Why is this any different?
There's something inside him that cannot make himself do it. There's something that keeps his hand from plunging the dagger into my flesh and watching the life drain from my eyes. He doesn't even know what it is and cannot know why it's impossible to force himself to do this. But he just doesn't. Instead he lets me go, his eyes indifferent and full of despise for me as he doesn't look away, his knife disappearing as he looks down at me from his tall figure, ice from his soul showing in his miserably vile gaze towards me that is as plane as the words "I hate you" would be. And he finally answers my question. "Because you're not worth it," he lies with a plain and hateful voice that knifes me with mental pain in a way I didn't think he was capable of.
He turns around and leaves me to stand there without words, my glare remaining but the anger almost bringing furious tears to my eyes that had already been watering from all of the pain. Now I wish he had really killed me. Then I would be spared the agony of my own thoughts.
I rub my throat as I go and sit down on my bed. I stare off into space as I think, my breathing abnormal. I'm not sure why I do, but I cry a few tears of pain and overwhelming emotion that is too much for my small body. I sniff, but quietly as I wipe the salt water from my cheeks and eyes. I face the wall, away from him.
I can't do this again. I need a distraction. And fast.
I reach over and grab a book, the first one I see. I don't even read the title as I flip to the first page and start to drown myself in it best I can.
I have to leave these thoughts before they destroy me. My heart rate is faster than normal as Loki's memories continue to curse my head. Why have I let him get to me in this way? Why have I let him cause me such pain? Why should I care for his feelings at all? So what if he's in anguish? He's a demon, haunting me here on this earth.
I look over at him, my anger making me curious, watching him stand and not move as he leans against the glass as if trying to contain something. He is breathing hard like I was... What is this? I feel... weird. I can't help but think that this feeling is... guilt.
"Guilt"? How can I feel guilt for the one who has caused nothing but misery and bloodshed? Why should I care if I hurt him? What is wrong with me? I shouldn't care if I mess with his mind or use his memories against him, and yet I do.
I... Why do I feel like this? Maybe this is a sign. Maybe I shouldn't be so harsh on him. No. He is the cause of my family's demise. I can't let some measly feelings get in the way. It's not my job to show him mercy. This thing—this war—is all his fault. And he is going to pay for the damage he has caused.
I have to crack down on him hard. Coulson gave me a job, and the job must be done if I want to continue with my purpose.
That's when I realize that I have used all the strategy I know... What do I have left? I failed to locate the Tesseract. All I did in his mind was try to torture him. Why didn't I find the Tesseract? Why wasn't it there?
I can't reach his mind again. I can't bear that torture. I won't do it... I don't think I am able to.
I sit there, thinking, and trying to distract myself with the book. I don't truly process the words I read and reread. I am too busy thinking about what Loki did.
Why did he not kill me? I know he said I wasn't worth it, but I knew he was lying. Why did he hesitate? No. Not why. What made him hesitate?
I wish I had some kind of answer for these questions. It would make everything simpler. I could understand what is going on. Why I feel this way and why Loki didn't kill me when he could have. I close my eyes and try to contain everything...
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STEVE:
I walk through the halls and towards the room where we had watched the two prisoners before, a tablet in my hands. I don't think—
Oh for the love of—
I think I just turned it off.
I hate this new technology.
I had been watching what was going on before, leaving Stark and Banner playing science lab in their own room as I try to figure out what to do next. I guess we're waiting on either the trapped cats or science whizzes to find out where the Tesseract is and move from there.
When I walk into the room I find Thor staring at the screens, a look of deep thought on his face. It doesn't even look like he's alert enough to tell I walked in.
"Thor..." I get his attention as I take a couple steps.
He doesn't move but when I get closer I see both the captives looking absolutely miserable, on opposite sides of the fish bowl trying to contain their own emotions or just... try to keep from showing any.
I observe with a set brow before I look at the Asgardian prince. "What is it?"
"...Hope." He doesn't look at me.
My expression shows a bit of confusion and I look back at them...
I spot Esther, her little form that seems so gentle on the outside; small and slightly curvy features that make her look soft. Her eyes are hard and in pain. I watch her open her hand and light on fire, staring at the flames.
"It seems odd... that that much power... can come in a mutation... even in genes. Science gave me my inhuman abilities. It's strange to think that someone could be born with that much power," I say in thought, thinking of the extent of her abilities.
He moves his arms so that they are no longer crossed over his chest. "They can't be..."
I look at him with a puzzled expression.
He looks calculated and suspicious. "Not that much power..." He then turns and walks from the room as if he has somewhere to be...
I think on that, wondering what he means... and then my eyes go back to the monitors.
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TONY STARK:
I am too deep in my own work, getting us the location of the Tesseract using the radiation it emits—why didn't I think of this before?
Ah dammit.
I have to reorder this and start again I don't think I calculated this right...
But I am lost in this so much I realize Banner hasn't spoken for a good couple of hours and he doesn't look absorbed in anything.
"Did you lose your voice?" I ask not looking at him.
He doesn't reply but takes off his glasses and sighs.
I give him a look.
"Sorry... I just... I don't know what I'm doing here."
"Don't tell me you're having a mid life crises because I'm not that good at comforting people."
He wants to snicker a tad but he doesn't. Instead he stays hard and says, "I'm endangering so many people by being here—around this—around magic and mind control—"
"We wouldn't have gotten this far without you. You're helping us—"
"At what cost? At any point I might just..." he stops and shuts his eyes hard, turning away slightly and not finishing.
"...You've gone a lot longer than I would have thought possible, without having an accident, Banner. I don't think working here is going to change that."
"This is more than just lab work, Tony—look at this thing!" he points to the alien scepter a foot from him that sits on the table. "I have no clue what's inside this thing and it had the power to turn scientists more brilliant than I am into mindless drones. I shouldn't be in a mile's radius of it."
"There's bound to be a risk on some level. With all of this stuff going on, it's a risk we have to take. And I think you're underestimating your strength a bit."
"And I think you are underestimating the power that's contained in this weapon," he retaliates as I take a step forward from where I was.
I glance down at the glowing orb of who-knows-what that's connected to the scepter by the blade... the mystery of what could be inside of that thing puzzling me too. I don't think I could study it for a year and know...
But I look back at him with a sure expression. "Anything that we do from this point on is dangerous. But we have to find out what Loki's plan is and fast or else a lot more people are going to die than would die on this ship if you turned green."
He looks at me, still uncertain and regretful. I know he doesn't like this monster he's become. But he needs to understand it's something that's not necessarily a curse if he can learn to use it correctly. And the intelligence he has can be used for years to help people everywhere.
"I can't control this..." he mutters.
"...Think of it this way. I used to be afraid. I would go to sleep in my bed and think I would never wake up again. This thing inside of me. As long as it's working it keeps me alive. But that doesn't mean I wasn't afraid of death. What if it stopped working? What if I didn't see the sun the next day? Anything. But I learned to stop fearing something I couldn't control... and I focused on the things I could. You have done things for this world that no other man could do. And you will continue to do that. This thing isn't going to control you. I learned to control my own demon. It's a part of me now. I turned... something dark and scary into my biggest strength. Without this," I point to my chest magnet, "Iron Man... wouldn't exist."
He looks down, thinking about it.
"You gotta own it man. If Satan gives you a curse, use it against him."
He furrows his brows...
I put a hand on his shoulder to make him look at me. "You belong with us."
His eyes hint at hope and I know it will be a while before he accepts those words... but he definitely appreciates them now.
And nothing I said was a lie.
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ESTHER:
I wake to a sound. Gradually it tears me from my dreamless sleep to the point where I am staring at the ceiling to my cell.
Confused, I blink a couple times before I realizing that someone is screaming. And it's not the sound of someone out there. It's in here.
I gasp and sit up, my head turning to see my cell mate in his bed, cringing in pain, yet there is no wound. His hand grips his hair at the roots as he cries out in either anguish or rage. The sight before me; the sound; all of it makes my heart rate quicken in a terrifying way. It's as if the noises in my head have leapt from my own and are now being projected through him. I don't like it. It's painful to hear. But why is he screaming? He's not hurt. At least not physically. And he's still sleeping...
I hurry out of my bed and I rush over to his. I shake his shoulders and shout, "Loki? Loki, wake up!"
He shouts with a burning fury, "Don't touch her!"
He's having a nightmare.
I try to grab unto his arms or hands or anything to desperately try to shake him from his night terror. "Loki! It's only a nightmare! You need to wake up!"
"Stop it! Stop it now!" he yells in a growl of hatred. "I know it's you! Get out of my head! Leave me alone!" he says, sounding like he's awake now—maybe—but in too much pain to open his eyes.
My eyes show shock and my brows tense up even more. "Loki it's not me! Wake up! Just wake up, dammit!" I clutch his shoulders to try and wake him.
His expression looks more in horrid pain than any I'd ever seen before. He looks miserable and completely shattered. Why? What did he see?
"Loki," I say in a breath but instead I subtly and quickly connect my mind to his to see what happened. Flashes of his memories fly through my thoughts and of his nightmare. There's so much pain, darkness, and despair that the split second of seeing it almost brings tears to my eyes. The agony of his child form that weeps over his family's dead bodies like something from a horror movie. And him as a child sitting by his mother's dead body, her eyes lifeless as he cries, blood on his hands. That's before the demons that take forms scarier than anything I've seen chase him through the darkness. None of it is true and I know I didn't place the nightmare there. It must have conjured itself from the torture of the thought I caused him earlier.
That's when I see clearly again. He is breathing hard. And I see him shed a tear for the first time down the side of his face before he finally opens his eyes... his eyes that are... not blue like before... they're green. They changed color? What happened? The look in his eyes is that of pure misery and sadness, not hate, not anger. He is looking at the ceiling but then he looks at me, the glimpse of the child once long ago so innocent and loving, flashing before my eyes as they lock with his, staring into his soul, rather than the wall of hatred on his outer shell... There's someone in there... And I can now see it.
This is someone else than who I was in the cell with all this time... this isn't the man who killed my family... So who is he?
My eyes are just as wide as his as my heart doesn't slow down.
I can't bring myself to say anything. Shock is all I feel along with confusion... and my expression reflects that completely as I look at him; this stranger.
He doesn't even look like he's acknowledged who I am yet, his wide eyes dancing in mine, glazed with burning tears from what he just witnessed. He is breathing hard, his expression torn; pulled into an innocently sorrowful look as he tries to let his thoughts return to reality instead of the nightmare that is in his mind.
I take a deep breath before grabbing both of his shoulders and force him to look at me. I say in a calming yet demanding voice, "Loki? Come on, calm down. Breathe. Look at me. Don't focus on anything else but me. You are okay. It was just a bad dream. Everything is fine." I sound a bit frightened myself however. And I am.
"She's alright," he mutters quieter than almost I could hear as he convinces himself he's fine. But his heart is racing I can tell, his head is hot and his breathing shaky. His eyes don't look like that of a killer. Just a child who lost his way and was corrupt, filled with more pain than most people could endure and demons never setting him free.
He sits up, my hands still on his shoulders as he looks disoriented. "Where am I?" he mutters.
I am sitting on his bed now and I take my hands off of his shoulders as my expression turns worried and confused. What does he mean? Why does he not remember where he is?
"In prison... a S.H.I.E.L.D. base..." I mutter but I still don't know what to think right now.
"Who are you?" He looks frightened, as if he actually completely has no idea who I am.
My brows tense more and my eyes widen.
He is breathing shakily and looks around, his eyes wide as he tries to figure out what's going on.
"Loki why don't you remember? What's going on?"
He thinks for a moment, still disoriented as his brows pull together in thought and he looks at me... "Esther," he says so quietly I can almost not hear him, the clueless and oddly innocent look in his eyes making me hesitant and not sure what to do...
"Yes..."
He recognizes me now... and remembers things slowly... but he's still... a different Loki than I met. It's as if he's come from a fog of darkness and woken up here.
He brings his legs off the bed to sit beside me, his palms pressed to the mattress as his eyes scan the floor, breathing hard. He shuts his eyes and clenches his teeth. "What...What did you do to me?"
I look at him oddly but frown.
"Answer me!"
"Nothing! I didn't do anything. You had a nightmare—"
"But you did something." He looks at me with anger but more in a panicked way. "What did you do—? I feel different."
"Loki I didn't do anything. The only thing I did at all was dig into your mind—if anything I freed you... if I did anything—but I didn't. I just read your mind."
He tries to be hard and angry like before but he can't manage it, the memories of his nightmare come back to torment him and something else; an aftershock of pain... something in him that did this is still hurting him. He cringes and leans forward, returning to an innocent Loki that I've never seen before. He breathes hard. "It hurts..." he mutters through his teeth as if just saying it to himself, or forgetting who he is talking to.
My first instinct is to comfort him but I remember then who he is. And I can't make myself do it. My heart is hardened and I hate him still.
What is that? That's not me. What is telling me to hate? Justice?
No it's not. It's the deceiver.
I push that thought away. No it's me. It's right to be angry with him he took everything from me.
...
"But how much more grievous are the consequences of anger than the cause of the anger itself?" I mutter to myself too quietly for him to hear.
I silence everything inside of me and I hear one voice.
He's being used for evil just like you are.
Help him.
I swallow my pride and look over at him, the want to do good clawing at me. I know I should love others but—he's evil! He's a killer! He murdered my—
Did he?
He's a puppet, Esther.
And you may need him later.
Talk to him.
'Puppet'?
Of who?
I look over at him as he cries dryly into his hands, hunched over as he breathes roughly, his nightmare making him feel like a tiny child again; helpless, small, powerless, and frightened.
He hasn't grieved over his family since he left them so long ago... and now emotions seem to catch up with him.
All I can think is how different he seems, avoiding looking at me now as he tries to stop showing emotion. But he doesn't care anymore. He has forgotten where he is and even who is talking to. He has turned over all recent events and is letting his pain seep through his thick skin and dark exterior.
Without thought I reach over and set a hand on his back, the touch odd, for a don't think I had ever touched him before that wasn't out of aggression.
He doesn't cringe away from me like I thought he would. He doesn't even acknowledge it.
We sit there for a long moment as he tries to calm down or think of anything from the pain.
"...My father once told me that nightmares are the demons trying to possess us with fear and doubt. They're there to torment us into sadness. They're lies. And we are stronger than them... He said the greatest battles are the ones fought within us. Evil will always want us in the abyss but our way of fighting it makes us strong. The only way we have peace is to resist it... and follow the light... He would take me by the hands and recite a verse with me..." I look down as I think. "'I will not fear the terrors of the night, nor the arrows that fly by day... I will not fear the pestilence that stalks in the darkness... because I dwell in the shelter of the Almighty... And therefore I will not be afraid.'"
His breathing has calmed and his hands no longer cradle his face.
I have forgotten where we are and so has he.
"...I still say those words to myself... when I wake up from nightmares," I say quietly as I look down at my hands.
Keep going.
I swallow and continue. "I may not have been in actual war but I've struggled all my life with fighting anger, hate, fear, trust, depression... and even faith. My mother taught me to see the good in everything. She said anger was something that constantly fights for us; to drag us down. And if we are not careful, it will control us... a lifetime of learning that lesson yet I still am a slave to hatred and anger. I let it take me completely. And I've hurt people because of it. I've become something hideous. I've been led down the wrong path. I was never looking for justice... I was looking for revenge. And those two are not the same..."
He is silent and looking ahead of him now in thought.
"Whatever it is you're going through right now you have to... continue to fight it. It wants to pull you back into the hate but you can't let it. Bad things have happened to us both. We may be very different but that will always be the same. We were wronged and we went down the easy path lead by the deceiver. We have to break free," I speak truth from my veins, about a matter more serious than the people we have hurt or the people who have hurt us. I don't speak gently but I'm not harsh either. If there's someone down there then that's who I speak to...
"Is it so much better to fight death with more death?" I almost ask myself as I realize this. "To cause others the same pain we went through." I look at him... but he doesn't return my gaze. "I know you have a heart now, that's good. So I know some of this is getting through. But whatever was done to you, it doesn't matter. You can choose to become something great in spite of it, or throw away your life like you're doing right now. Tell me, after you have conquered the universe and murdered millions... will you feel any better? Will you be happy? I think you already know the answer to that. The voice of evil will always disguise itself as the voice of justice. But it's not." I feel weird as I speak all these words, like I have switched places with my father. Or as if he's speaking through me and I listen like the child I once was. I don't think I even realize Loki probably doesn't care at all for what I'm saying. But at least I can say that I tried.
He looks at me then, his brows slouched back as if he's sad but his expression says confused, that innocent side still visible. "Why are you being so kind to me?"
I hesitate. Why am I? He doesn't deserve it. He made this bed of pain for himself.
Stop thinking like that Esther. You're better than that.
I frown a bit and look down.
I'm trying, dad.
"I don't know... My father always told me to be kind always. And show the love of our Father even if they don't deserve it. I'm just... trying to do what He wants... But I'm a sinner like us all. There's not much in me anymore. Just an empty shell. I think I'm past help at this point. And I don't really know what's planned for us but for some reason, God doesn't want you to give up... or die."
"That must put a damper on your plans," he comments, seeming that the jester has returned.
I look at him, not wanting to smile but I furrow my brows. "It sure does. I mean it's a shame I was really looking forward to that part."
"I bet," he breathes, still not back to normal yet and his eyes still pink, trying to rid the nightmare from his mind.
My eyes dance in his as I look serious, knowing whatever I did, though I didn't want to, was the right thing. I don't think staying in my shell of anger would have helped either of us. And if I pushed him emotionally when he woke from that nightmare he would have snapped and killed me immediately. "Are you going to be okay?" I ask, that surprising me. What I care about him now?
"Why do you care?" he asks as if he knew I was thinking the same question, half jesting, half serious.
"Well I don't enjoy being woken up to screaming so I'm making sure that won't happen again. I may not be a god but I need sleep too."
He snickers and rolls his eyes. "Then you'd better get back in your crib, kitten."
"There he is," I pop up my eyebrows before standing up and walking to my bed. "If you wake me up again I may have to go ahead and kill you."
"There she is," he returns and makes me roll my eyes this time.
"Goodnight, shithead," I say with attitude.
"Goodnight, Esther," he replies in the same tone.
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