Author's Note: Ah, writing again. I really struggled with this chapter, and to be honest, some unexpected things seem to have happened. To be brief, I think it is fair warning that things have definitely taken a turn for the dark. There are many things still to be explained, and fear not, they all will be. I will deal with all of the things that must be dealt with. Some of you may have questions after this chapter, some may not. We shall see! But yes, I'm going to go ahead and include a trigger warning for violence. The violence has been edited down some, but it is most definitely still present. And I know you may leave this chapter not so pleased with me, maybe not so pleased with some characters. I understand this, believe me. Onwards—and again, thank you all for such lovely support, you were also so kind and welcoming back last chapter and I really appreciate it! <3
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Chapter Twenty-Four - Illt, or Evil
When I throw open the door to our bedroom, Loki is perched on a chair by the balcony, reading a book. The sun falls upon his exquisite face, shadows gracing the hollows of his cheekbones. I survey him for just a moment, taking him in, before I go barreling into the closet, tearing off my dress.
Loki calls my name softly as I tug on a pair of leather pants. I go into the bedroom, holding a shirt in one hand and my boots in the other. Loki smiles at me and I throw my shirt over my head as he gets up and crosses towards me. He places his hands delicately on my hips and dips his chin, his lips brushing against mine. He lifts a hand to comb it through my hair, bracing his hand against the back of my head. He pulls me close to him and he kisses me, holding us together. I wrap my arms around his neck and the hem of my shirt lifts and his hand slips up my spine. His lips move to my neck and the hand in my hair drops to below my waist, his fingers pressing firmly into my skin.
Reluctantly, I pull away from him, catching my breath before I throw myself down onto the edge of the bed to put my boots on. Focus, Valkyrie. Loki frowns and kneels before me. “Where are you in such a rush to?”
I don’t answer right away, but move on to lacing up my left boot. Loki pulls on the lace of the right one, effectively undoing the boot I just tied. I swat his hands away with a laugh.
“How did things go with Ronan?” he questions, but I meet his eyes and say nothing. He looks up at me through his long dark lashes. “This silence thing is incredibly mysterious. I like it.”
I laugh, running my fingers through his hair, combing it back away from his face. He needs a haircut again. “So you like it when I shut up, then?”
“No,” he purrs, “I enjoy everything you have to say. But I do so love that look on your face when you’ve run out of words and your lips are free to kiss.”
He kisses me again, leaning me back on the bed. I clutch at his shoulders desperately, inhaling his scent, trying to impress it into my memory. I want to remember him just this way. I want him to remember me just as we are now. He props himself up and smiles down at me, his hair hanging into his face. I laugh and tuck it behind his ears. And then I swallow hard. He isn’t going to let me interrogate Amora if I tell him that’s where I’m going. I know that. I bite down on my lip.
His eyelids flutter and then he cocks his head to the side. There is the ghost of a smile on his lips as he shakes his head side to side. “Oh, you are a wicked little thing.”
I whisper my apologies and then he laughs faintly before he passes out on top of me. I grimace slightly as his full body weigh collapses on top of me and then I roll him off of me and onto his back. I hop off the bed, retying my boots on the way, and hurry into the bathroom, scrubbing my lips clean of the sleeping draught I used to put Loki to sleep. I frown at my reflection in the mirror. I don’t look like myself anymore…I don’t recognize the person in the mirror. Gaunt. Paranoid. Cruel.
I turn my back to the mirror and braid my hair quickly, tying it off at the end. I tuck my shirt into my pants and then dash out the door with a quick peck to Loki’s forehead. He’s going to be so pissed when he wakes up.
I hurry down the hall with the sound of my boots on the marble echoing in my ears. There is an odd comfort to the rhythm. I take deep breaths in my nose and release them from between my lips, trying to steady my pulse. My heart pounds out of my chest—I am…too excited for something so horrible. I pound down the steps towards the dungeons and seek out the guard on duty. He points me towards Amora’s cell and then waves me on without much attention and a grin slips over my lips. When I reach the door, I am puzzled to find a basic wooden door with a metal latch. I touch the door and magic ripples under my fingertips. I smirk to myself. Loki knows me too well.
Of course, I do not have even a remote mastery of magic or spells. Do I even still have magic? The magic manifested around the time I conceived Loki and I’s child. It could very well be that the magic was a property of the child…of Loki’s child within me. Perhaps the tingling in my fingers has only been a remembrance. But then, I focus my thoughts and energy into getting through this door, to getting to Amora…and it rather unceremoniously swings open. I step into the room, closing the door behind me. The spell glimmers again from the inside. So…I did not break it. And if the magic did not come from the child, what then?
“I wondered how long it would be before you came to pay me a visit,” Amora says before I even see her. The room is dark, dingy, lit only by a single torch upon the wall, the flame in danger of sputtering out completely. She sits, her body hunched, head hung slightly, looking up at me through her dirtied blonde hair. She is roped and chained and strapped into a chair, screwed and weighted into the ground. Still, I can make out the bites of the restraints against her skin as I get closer. She has been struggling. I crouch down in front of her, and though her eyes bear the same fire I recognize, not much else about her bears resemblance to the one who has caused me so much pain.
“Look at me,” I demand and she slowly lifts her eyes to mine. She smirks at me, and before I know I have done it, the sound of my open palm against her cheek is ringing in my ears. She barely flinches.
She laughs and the sound is empty—it slips through my brain like cool metal, leaving my head feeling heavy. I shake my head slightly and try to regain my focus. “What do you want, Valkyrie?”
“I want…” I hesitate, my hands curling into fists. “I want answers. I want to know why you decided to take everything from me. I want to know why you ruined my life. But most importantly I want to know what the fuck Thanos wants from me.”
“Why should I give you anything you want?” she asks, the smirk still plastered on her face. I pull back and punch her directly in the nose. The bone crunches under the impact and blood spurts from her nostrils, getting on my knuckles.
I put one hand on either arm of the chair she’s strapped to and get within an inch of her. “Because, you simple thing, if you do not give me answers I will not hesitate to kill you.”
Her smirk splits her lips into a grin and blood from her nose stains her teeth crimson. Anger courses through me and I pull back again, punching her again, and again, while she continues on laughing, twisting the knife that feels wedged into my gut. I let out a scream of rage and grab her hair, yanking her head back. I feel the hot tears on my cheeks.
“Just give me a fucking answer, Amora! I don’t know what I did to you that made you so bent on destroying my life…” I whisper, searching her eyes for something other than pure amusement. But I find nothing. I lift my knee and slam her face directly into it. She laughs, though she is gargling blood. She spits the blood out on me and purses her split lips, looking smug. I let go of her and take a step back, turning my back to her. I look down and examine my bloodied hands and instead of the remorse I expect to feel, I feel heat welling up in the pit of my stomach. I know that heat, that irrepressible feeling that usually lingers in my hands. I breathe in slowly and the heat creeps through my body, filling me with more wrath. I turn on my boot heel.
“When did you become so cruel?” Amora asks after a moment of appraising me with those large green eyes.
I pause for just a moment, the word ringing in my ears. “Necessity made me cruel. You would know a little something about that, wouldn’t you?” I bite back with a grin.
Amora spits more blood and then looks at me again. “I would have taken you for a fair fighter, Valkyrie Sutton.”
My heart skips a beat. Am I being a coward? I lick my lips once and wipe my forehead with the back of my hand. I don’t know that I can physically withstand fighting Amora. I’ve barely had the time to recuperate like I was supposed to. But then, I narrow my eyes at her, she is exactly the reason I am weak. I raise my hand toward her, ignoring its slight tremble, and watch as her bonds fall by the wayside. Surprisingly, she doesn’t stand, she slides from the chair and her knees meet the stone floor with an audible thud. I cross to her quickly and pull her to her feet by her hair.
“I am not a coward,” I whisper, my eyes darting back and forth between hers. She is resolute now, betraying no emotion. Her green eyes are hard as stone, but as breakable as glass. How I want to break her. Is this what madness feels like?
My hand slides to around her throat and I lift her slightly off the ground—she sputters and gasps, clawing at my hands. I toss her aside to the ground and she jumps quickly to her feet, her hair bloody and hanging in her face.
She says something, too quiet for me to hear, and I take a step towards her. She repeats herself, slowly, carefully, “I won’t hurt the child. I do not…I do not wish it harm.”
The laugh that tears itself from my throat startles even me. I make it to her in one long stride, grasping her slender neck firmly again, pushing her back against the stone wall. “That’s…” What is it? Painful. Hilarious. “Ironic.”
Her brow furrows and I squeeze harder. Then her eyes widen and she looks down. “Oh gods…”
“Are you happy now? I mean, you seemed pretty bent on making my life a living hell—well, look where we are now!” I laugh. “You…you are the reason everyone looks at me like I might fall apart at any moment. The reason my husband touches me like I’m going to break.”
“Well,” she gasps, “aren’t they right?”
I release her suddenly and she slides down the wall, crumpling at my feet. I pull my hands in towards my chest, clutching at my own throat. The heat is overwhelming, feeling like a fire being stoked just beneath the surface of my skin. I let out a scream and then I am blind. I see nothing but red. I stumble to her. I hear Amora’s screams as my boots make contact with her ribs again and again. I crawl on top of her, clutching her by the jaw, relishing the strain of her vocal chords as I slam her head into the ground. I search through the crimson haze and find her eyes. She stares up at me…in horror.
“Tell me!” I scream. I hear the door opening and my grip tightens. Someone screams my name. No. No. I am not Valkyrie now.
“Thanos is looking for the missing Infinity Stone!” she wails, and I could almost swear she was crying. “The Infinity Gauntlet is missing an Infinity Stone! That’s what he wants to trade you for!”
I feel arms on me, hands pressing firmly into my skin. “Valkyrie, you’re burning up!” I turn around, clawing at Loki. My fingers sink into his cheek, tearing at his skin.
“Release me,” I command in a voice that does not belong to me. Loki stares at me. He looks…horrified. Is that how everyone looks at me now? In abject horror? I don’t remember how people looked at me before the horror.
Someone else is holding my arms behind me. Thor. He kisses the top of my head while Loki rubs my arms and mutters things to me. They drag me from Amora’s room as guards rush into it. Loki sinks to the ground with me, holding my hands, as Thor orders guards about, trying to rectify the utter chaos I have reaped.
“Loki, give her to me.” Odin’s voice. My heart freezes in my chest. I notice for the first time that Loki’s hands are freezing and when I look at him, my vision less clouded with bloody haze, I realize he is in his Jötunn form. He clutches me tightly. He is trying to extinguish the burning in me, trying to bring my temperature down. Gods, do I love him.
“Odin…I…” Loki stumbles over the words. I look into his eyes again and he flinches slightly, letting me go. One of Odin’s guards pulls me to my feet and Odin looks me over.
“You know what this means, yes?” Odin asks. It takes me a moment to realize he is not speaking to me. He is looking at Loki. I do not know what this means. No, no, that’s not true. I do know what this means. I have made a terrible mistake. I will be lucky if anyone ever trusts me again. I will be lucky if Loki ever looks at me with love in his eyes again.
Odin turns to me and lays his hand upon my forehead. His hand is cool. “Sleep, Valkyrie.” My eyes close without my permission, and I feel my body give up on standing, give up on trying to support itself. Someone’s holding onto me, but they are not familiar, loving arms. I murmur for forgiveness but I know it is too late.
I will be lucky if I live.