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When Loki grabbed the Tesseract, he did not care where it took him as long as it was away from Thor and his bumbling mortal friends. However, the derelict shack in the middle of nowhere he was sent to was below his usual standard of living. Beggars could not be choosers, or at least, not as long as their hands were tied and mouth muzzled. Without such indignities keeping him from using his usual tricks, Loki could get anything he wanted. Well… as long as his brother stopped messing up his plans.
So, first order of business, freeing himself of all these binds.
Loki carefully set the Tesseract on the ground, then tried slipping his hands free and twisting the metal of the shackles, but he was forced to admit Thor's little friends had put thought and effort into them. He could not even bend his wrists or reach with his fingers to pick the lock.
Plan B: the cabin was lived in. Loki had noticed that immediately upon his arrival because of the lone candle that burned inside. The Tesseract had brought him here, but he was reluctant to trust his fate to it, and even less so to the hands of a hapless midgardian. Loki picked up the Tesseract and shook it in the hope it would take elsewhere, but it was being stubborn.
Out of options, Loki stood in front of the wooden door, and knocked. Something crashed inside and his keen hearing picked up soft footsteps approaching the door, so he was not surprised when it was yanked open. What surprised him was the wand tip glowing right between his eyes. Magic. Finally, something that felt like home.
"What do you want?" the witch demanded, jabbing her wand forward.
Loki leaned back, afraid he might lose an eye, then he held up his shackled hands in explanation.
"Oh," she gasped, lowering her wand. "Oh, your poor thing. Come on in."
Loki frowned. Never, in all his wretched life, had he ever been called a "poor thing". Upon knocking, he had expected to either be chased off, or taken in, but never had he thought he would be insulted in such a way. He shrugged off the mild annoyance, however, and entered the pathetic excuse for a dwelling.
The witch pulled out a chair for him, sat in front of him, pushing the candle in the middle of the table aside.
"Well, show me your hands," she said. "I'm not sure about… the muzzle. I've never seen one of those before, but I've gotten plenty of shackles off myself and my fellow wolves."
Loki kept his surprise in check. Fellow wolves? The witch was no wolf despite the claw marks marring her face. Even if the scars were cursed, she would be wolf- ish , at best. A shame. Loki did like wolves. A noble and ferocious creature if he ever saw one. However, if she thought that was why he was shackled, Loki was not going to disabuse her of the notion. Setting the Tesseract next to the candle, he let is arms fall heavily towards her.
The witch prodded the shackles with her wand, mumbling under her breath. Loki took advantage of her distraction to observe her closer. For a midgardian, she was not as offensive to gaze upon as most. Her magic, for one, shone through, giving her a similar glow to that which blessed his mother. She certainly was a sight better than the plain Jane his brother insisted on courting.
"These aren't even magical," the witch scoffed. "Do they really need to add insult to injury? Keeping the public safe, my arse."
With a whisper and wave of her wand, the lock to his shackles clicked and they fell open, dropping on the wooden table around his wrists. Loki grinned, not that it showed.
"Now this," she said, tapping her own lips before she stood and walked around him, observing the ridiculous mouth guard, her breath ghosting over his skin, fingers ruffling his hair as she searched for a lock.
"This was not made by muggles," she concluded, "nor wizards."
She stepped back before him to look him in the eye.
"You're not a werewolf on the run, are you?" she asked and he shook his head.
No point in lying. She was no idiot and might feel sorry for her faulty assumption.
"Never matter. Whoever did this to you can't have been nice. Unfortunately, my unlocking charms don't seem to work on it, so you're going to have to hold yourself very, very still. Can you do that?"
Loki's eyes widened at her ominous warning. The last time someone had told him to keep still like that, he had been a naive young boy Thor used for target practice. Of course, the perfect princeling never missed, but how Loki had hated him for it, for giving him his first taste of fear.
But now, Loki was fearless, he had nothing to lose, so he gave a small nod and kept as still as stone.
The next instant, the mouthguard bounced on his knees then dropped to the floor with a resounding metallic clang. He was free! Loki massaged his jaw, stretched his lips in a smile, then cleared his parched throat.
"Feeling better," the witch asked.
"Much," Loki agreed, then added reluctantly: "My thanks. Could I bother you for some water?"
"I have something better," she replied, turning to rummage in her cupboards, returning with two chipped cups and a bottle of amber liquid.
"To freedom," she said when they were served, holding her cup aloft, eyes sparkling.
That was a sentiment Loki could get behind. He clinked his cup to hers.
"To freedom."
The beverage was good at least, burning through him like liquid fire, giving him the impetus he had lost to start over again. It was obvious from the setback at New York that his brother only got the upper hand on him because of his band of freaks. That was what was lacking when Loki went toe to toe with Thor: allies. Or maybe not allies, but… minions. And under his own command this time.
"A knut for your thoughts," the witch chuckled. "I've never seen anyone looking so mischievous after a single glass of firewhisky."
Loki considered the woman. She was tolerable, did not offend the eyes, but most importantly, her crude form of magic was a power to be reckoned with, even against Asgardian steel. Loki could not have chosen a better minion if he had gone looking for it himself.
"If I may ask, what is such a formidable lady as yourself doing in such a wretched place?" Loki asked, all sweet and mellow.
The witch shrugged. Not that he was all that interested in her reasons, but he needed something to bait her with.
"No one wants me," she finally said. "As someone told me once: I'm a reminder of all the failures of this world."
Her hand trailed down the claw marks.
"Lycanthropy. War. Child soldiers. No one wants to see it on display."
Loki clasped her hand, and with his other, glamoured her face to perfection, then conjured a mirror for her.
"You could hide them…" he suggested.
"How did you…? Those scars are cursed…" she exclaimed, staring at her reflection until she grimaced and set the mirror down.
Loki smirked.
"Those are marks of the failures of others, not your own. On the contrary, they are badges of honour: of your strength and courage, are they not?"
Slowly, the witch nodded, looking grim, angry even. Perfect.
"You have no business hiding away here on your own, wasting away," Loki said, waited for her to open her mouth to protest, then hastily added. "Abandon this illusion of freedom. Come with me. See the world, visit the stars and wonders you have only ever dreamed of."
Her eyes slid to the Tesseract glowing softly on the worn table. She shook her head with a deprecating laugh.
"I don't even know your name. This is madness," she replied.
Loki stood and took her hand once more, bowing over it.
"It's not madness, it's freedom. My name is Loki, and it would be an honour to have you travel by my side. "
He kept his head down, waiting. A minute passed and he wondered if he had lost his touch after being muzzled for too long.
"Lavender," she answered at last.
Loki unfolded, towering over her, grinning in triumph. So it began, the very first pawn of his very own army.