☀︎☀︎☀︎

The feeling of fire is not a feeling so easily forgotten.

It is a mindless creature, one with no mercy and no direction, and its unforgiving bite is what suddenly woke the god of mischief from his restless slumber in the middle of the night. One hand flew to his chest, grasping at the damp fabric there as he quickly sat up in a state of muddled confusion and pain, smoldering coals being dragged across his skin. Such was the intensity of his torment that he struggled to keep quiet and stifle his ragged gasps to keep from waking Willow when the smell hit him like a punch to the face—the foul and tainted stench of one that knew nothing but blind servitude.

"Boy..," the voice echoed through his mind, over and over and over again like that of a resounding bell and his hands flew up to grasp at the sides of his head in resistance.

"I told you," Loki squeezed his eyes shut, "I'm done."

"You were never given the choice. You belong to him."

His eyes flew open to see the hooded and disfigured silhouette of the Other standing in the kitchen, silently watching the god of mischief's mouth curl in anger.

"I belong to no one."

"You were cast out by your real father. Unwanted by your adoptive father. You belong nowhere."

"I have nothing for you."

"I know."

"Then what do you want from me?" Loki snarled, fists clenching as he restrained himself from lunging forward.

"I want to see you suffer," The Other was gloating, he could hear it in the way he drew out his words, an unfulfilled need for blood deep in the empty depths of his chest, "...and squirm...and scream...until your agony, caused by my own hand, becomes too much to bear and gives way to the unforgiving bonds of death."

"I'm not afraid of you. Or your master."

"You are lucky that my master is merciful. Regardless, you will pay for your sins, Loki Laufeyson. I will make sure of it."

Before he could answer, The Other vanished and the burning feeling returned, but this time with such an overwhelming strength that it threatened to devour his very being, flames in his blood and poison in his veins. He could barely hear the thundering footsteps of Willow over the high-pitched ring that vibrated through his head. His senses were overpowered by the pain he was in and it was a few minutes before he finally came around—he was lying on his back on the floor, his vision clearing to see Willow's worried blue eyes frantically running over his face.

Her mouth was moving, too, and it took a few seconds for him to realize she was asking him something. His head was heavy and it felt like every nerve in his body was aching as he slowly sat up on his elbows. The force of his resistance against the Other had diminished his mental and physical strength, damp sweat causing his shirt to stick to his body. Willow must have turned on the lights when he was passed out because the fluorescent bulbs sent a wave of nausea through his stomach.

"What happened?" Her voice came surging through his eardrums on full blast and he winced.

"A nuisance paid me a visit," he answered begrudgingly, dragging a hand through his hair.

"He came back?"

"It doesn't matter."

"Loki—"

The god of mischief ignored her concerns and pulled down the neck of his shirt only to find that, much to his surprise, the mark on his chest, once a circle of blackened flesh imprinted with an unknown symbol, had simply vanished. He traced his skin in wonder and, though he rejected the idea immediately, a bit of paranoia. The branding had made his position with the Mad Titan very clear, but it's sudden disappearance along with the Other's ominous warning could not mean anything very good for him and it seemed he was in a more difficult situation than he thought himself to be.

"What is it?" Willow asked.

"Ah, I forget it would've been your first time seeing the mark. No matter. It's gone now."

Loki, exhausted and mildly irate, looked up.

In that moment, he simply wanted to forget about the Other, about Thanos, about everything from before her.

"Have I disappointed you?" He said coyly.

"You're hopeless."

"So I'm told."

"Come on," she patted him on the shoulder, "I'll make you something to eat."

"What time is it?"

"Who cares, I'm hungry."

"I thought the food was for me."

"I changed my mind."

Loki's amused scoff turned into a pained groan as he climbed to his feet and he waved away Willow's attempt to help.

"I'm fine."

The young woman raised a brow doubtfully, but didn't push the issue, and walked into the kitchen. She took a loaf of bread and a jar of peanut butter-and-jelly from one of the cupboards, slathering the spread over a few slices with a plastic butter knife as Loki changed into a clean, dry shirt in the bathroom. When he finally came out, Willow was seated at the little card table. She had munched through one whole sandwich and was in the process of ripping a second one into sizable pieces. The man collapsed into a chair with an exasperated breath. He scooped up a sandwich from the slightly tall pile and took a big bite in hopes of restoring his strength.

"How are you feeling?" Willow questioned, popping a piece of jelly-covered bread into her mouth.

"Well enough," he hesitated before carrying on, "and you?"

She was careful to avoid his eye.

"Healthy as a horse, thank you very much."

"You know what I'm talking about."

"Can we focus on one thing at a time here?"

"It's a simple question, no need to fret."

"Or you're just trying to change the subject," she said exasperatedly. "You got the shit shocked out of you at three in the morning by some guy whose making it his life mission to stalk you. Honestly, how are you not more worried about this?"

"I've come to realize that worrying is absolutely useless and, in your case, horrible for the complexion."

Willow rolled her eyes as she took a bite from the intact half of her sandwich.

"This is something we're gonna have to deal with eventually, you know that, right?"

"Not we. Me. I won't have you getting involved in my troubles, no matter how long we stay together. What this is goes beyond any sort of earthly quests you're used to."

"That's not fair," she said with a frown, "and besides, most of the trouble I'm in is only because of you."

"Wrong again. You chose to be in this situation. Therefore, you're only in trouble because of you," Loki countered.

The young woman thought about it for a second before shrugging in agreement, rolling another ball of bread between her hands.

"And speaking of trouble," he continued casually, picking up a second sandwich, "I believe we've overstayed our welcome here."

Willow suddenly sat up straight and he took notice of the way her eyes immediately hardened at his words. The subject was clearly a sensitive point between the two and, knowing this, Loki was calculating the best way to tread on such a topic without getting his head chewed off. She was silent for a few minutes, picking at the remains of her food.

"It would be good for us to keep moving. We've stayed in this area a little too long for our liking."

"You know I can't."

"And you know that's not true," he said stiffly.

"We're not actually going to have this conversation again, are we?"

"I was hoping you'd change your mind."

"Well, I haven't."

"I do believe when your brother called, it was a warning he issued, not a chance to take advantage of the situation," Loki pointed out.

"I'm not leaving him," she said sharply.

"We don't know what he's capable of and personally, I'd rather not find out," he argued back.

"I can handle it."

"What do you think will happen?"

She was silent.

"He's coming to kill us, Willow," he persisted. "In what world do you think it's a good idea to wait for someone to come and slit our throats in our sleep?"

"I already told you, if you're that worried, you can go ahead and I'll catch up when I can."

"I thought we already established we're not separating?"

"Exactly. And now, we're right back to where we started."

She could tell he was beginning to get impatient with her and she sighed, crossing her arms across her chest.

"He's my best friend. If I can help him in any way, I'm going to. I don't know how, but I am. I don't want to fight about this, Loki, please?" She murmured in a more calm manner.

The god of mischief held her softening gaze before nodding in begrudging acknowledgement.

"I know you mean well. I'm sorry I can't give you a better answer."

"Don't apologize. I only want to make sure that this is what you want." He gave her a wry look. "You're a poor fool for tortured souls, aren't you?"

"Yeah, and I got stuck with the biggest sucker of all," she shot back, making him roll his eyes with a grin playing on his lips at the sight of her smile.

"Tell me," his voice hovered on the edge of curiosity, "is this like anything you thought your life would be? Besides being a fugitive from apparent justice."

The young woman snorted derisively.

"Definitely not." She shook her head. "No, I thought my life was all a straight line ahead. Meet someone, get married, have kids, the happily ever after almost every woman wanted back then."

"That sounds horribly boring."

"It was something I wanted to do when I didn't think I had anything else. I never intended to join the Army at all, much less as a science experiment, but I don't regret doing it."

She propped her head up with her hand.

"What about you?"

After a minute of contemplation, he said plainly, "I don't know. I never knew what I was meant to do and what I thought was supposed to be my future was just another lie in the grand scheme of things. I suppose I was lost. Maybe not so much anymore."

"You're more than just what you expected to be now, though, aren't you?"

"Perhaps," he shrugged, "but I wouldn't say no to a throne if it were clearly open for the taking."

"And if it weren't?"

"I'd have to forcefully take it then, wouldn't I?"

"Is it really that important to you?"

"I have yet to decide where it ranks of my list of important things."

"You're a real piece of work," she said.

"Thank you."

Willow observed him carefully before getting up and walking to the back of the apartment without another word.

He watched her go, suddenly afraid that he had offended her, when she returned a few minutes later. She handed him a small piece of paper, nodding for him to go ahead and open it.

Truth, though difficult, is my freedom. What is my truth?

"What is this?" He asked.

"It helped me cope when I first came out of the ice. There was a lot I didn't understand, but eventually, I had to learn to adapt," she explained. "I had to stop feeling sorry for myself and pushing back against things that I didn't want to accept, so I try to remember what my truth was. Or, what it is now."

She tapped the top of the paper.

"What would you say your truth is?"

"My truth...," he trailed off in wonder.

"You don't have to go into it if you don't want to. I just thought it'd be something good for you to think about."

"I couldn't tell you otherwise." Loki glanced at the paper, tilting his head in slight bewilderment. "You wrote this. I recognize your penmanship." He looked back up at her. "Do you like to write?"

"I used to write a lot when I was younger," Willow admitted.

"Short stories, poems, anything off the top of my head. I figured if being a housewife wasn't my thing, I could try writing a book."

"How interesting."

He carefully folded the piece of paper and handed it back to her.

"And will you now?"

"Will I what?"

"Write a book."

"I think I'm a bit too busy to write a book right now," she laughed a little, but Loki could detect a certain desire in her eyes as she thought about it.

"Well, when you do, I wish to read it."

"I'll keep that in mind," she grinned at him.

They began to eat the rest of their sandwiches in companionable silence when Willow cocked her head in sudden inquisitiveness after a few minutes.

"Do you remember telling me about Thor not being your real brother?"

Loki glanced at her in surprise that quickly turned into a mask of comical irritation.

"Honestly, I was just beginning to enjoy your presence," he sighed.

"First of all, rude. Second, you were the one who said you'd tell me all about it and since it looks like we have the time—"

"I don't recall saying that."

"Of course you wouldn't, you just got your brain fried to hell," she retorted.

"My failure to recognize this as an interesting subject should be enough for you to catch on that the last thing I want to talk about is that bumbling imbecile."

"You've got some deep-set issues, buddy. You should really see someone about that."

"Deep-set issues?"

"Yeah," she mumbled, licking peanut butter off of her thumb, "I'm pretty sure you can make some time to see Sam about it when we're not criminals anymore. And when you're not trying to rule planets or you're being overly passive-aggressive to everyone within three feet of you."

"That's low. Even for you."

"I could go lower."

"I wish you would."

"You make me sick to my stomach."

"Poetry to my ears."

"Shut up and eat your sandwich," Willow snapped, making him smirk despite her apparent frustration with him.

"No need to be so hostile."

"I can't help it, I was born this way."

"That would explain a lot."

"It was a joke, you clown. You really know how to push my buttons, though, I'll give you that," she muttered.

"Really? I'd like to think I'm bringing out the best in you."

"Id hate to see the worst of me, then."

Loki rolled his eyes, tearing off the crust of his second sandwich before delving into minute details.

"If there's anything you should know about my relationship with Thor, it's that it was strained. The throne had always caused friction between us, but I learned later on that I was born of a different bloodline."

"I am not Asgardian," he continued with a little shrug at her curious gaze, "though I have claim enough to call it my home."

"So you're a...different species? From Thor?"

He nodded once.

"Wow. That's actually pretty interesting. I never imagined that there were so many different kinds of people out there," Willow said in awe as she leaned back in her chair.

"Humans are painfully oblivious to the number of worlds that make up the vast universe."

"Sorry we haven't achieved that level of awareness."

"If that was a genuine apology representing your people, I would consider that a great and utter failure."

"I'll allow it." She made a face at him before ripping apart another sandwich. "How are you feeling, by the way?"

The question somewhat caught him off-guard and he realized that he was no longer in pain save a smarting ache in his rib area though not one for great concern, nor was he as exhausted from the Other's torment—he was focusing instead on the conversation between what he could only assume was two people with the plain luck of ending up with the other. Friends, he could conclude, due to the strange dynamic they'd developed, but never in their two weeks together did they have such a normal exchange as the one they were presently having.

It had been a trying process of getting to where they were now by avoiding what authorities were sent after them.

Sleepless nights running through cities, riding on trucks with the stench of unwashed animals, creeping through foul sewage systems during the day in crowded parts of towns. When Willow would decide to take risks for certain needs, she'd pick up little things here and there—books, pens, a lighter, a few ribbons. There was a smooth, purple stone about as big as his thumbnail that she had found when they first arrived on the borders of Litchtague. She had given it to Loki, the first time he'd ever seen her genuinely smile.

Still yet, reaching Litchtague did not mean they were safe.

There were things about the island they didn't understand from rivalries to traditional rituals to random and unneeded bloodshed. It took awhile for them to find a place where they could settle and avoid getting caught up in conflict when they found the small village that was tucked away from the main city.

They had been there for eight days, most of which one or the other spent catching up on sleep or reading the books Willow had stolen, but Loki was getting restless.

She was, too, but that didn't mean she was going anywhere.

When Steve had called with news of the mysterious man being sent after them, the young woman made up her mind to wait for him and the heated discussion they'd gotten into about it did nothing to sway her, so he had no choice but to stay. Her suggestion of their separation had sounded so casual the first time she mentioned it, that he felt a little wounded and refused to talk any more on the subject until now. Between his own personal affairs and that of his companion, the god of mischief was terribly on edge and he found that although he had indeed gotten the "shit shocked out of him" as Willow had so graciously stated, it was the first time he had been so relaxed and felt like himself since...well, it had been a long time since he'd felt that way.

Not normal, of course—he was far from it, being a god and somewhat superior to those around him—but he did find himself to be profoundly comfortable with Willow, though their situation could hardly place them in such a category.

She had trusted him, albeit reluctantly at first, and searched for the answers when no one else was willing to.

If there was something he could respect, it was her determination to stand up for what she believed in, even thought it meant going against her team and her own brother.

Loki owed her so much more than she knew.

He looked up at the young woman with a slight smile.

"I'm feeling better now."

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☀︎ celine's corner ☀︎

i love them, okay. that is all.