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He winced at the sight of himself in the mirror.
The worst of the dust from Svartelheim was now washed off his clothes, his tunic and armour now hanging over the bath in this cramped abode to dry. His face was relatively undamaged, but he couldn’t say the same for his chest.
Most of the damage from the scimitar was now healed on the outside, but it had left a prominent raised red scar through the centre of his chest and abdomen with ugly crimson marks all around it. It hurt, and it was only here while he was alone that he could admit it. He wasn’t going to let it on to anyone else, especially not Thor in the next room. Show no weakness. It had been drilled into both of them by Odin when they were children and it was something that he had taken to heart, even when it came to his family.
Taking the wash cloth off the side of the basin, he rinsed it out and dabbled tentatively at the wound, holding back the hiss that threatened to escape between his teeth. He knew that he was healing, but his body was reacting slowly to the elfin magic that had coated the blade and his body felt stiff and ungainly with every pull of muscles.
A knock on the door broke his contemplation of his wound and he schooled his face into an expression of nonchalance before one of the mortals – Jane Foster’s assistant – barged into the enclosed room.
“Isn’t it customary to wait for an invitation of admittance after knocking?” he queried archly.
She ignored the question, shuffling further into the room and shutting the door behind her, a strange green box and some kind of material in her hands.
“Dude, that looks horrible.” She nodded towards his chest. “Does it hurt?”
He scowled at her, but answered her question seeing as she had now managed to effectively trap him in the bathroom and it looked like he wouldn’t be getting a response to his own query.
“It will heal as if new.”
She looked at him sharply then, an oddly perceptive expression for one who’s every other sentence indicated an inferior intellect.
“That’s not an answer.”
He stared at her impassively, enjoying the flash of irritation that crossed her face at his lack of response before she shrugged it off.
“Whatever. Here.” She held out the material. “You need a shirt.”
He stared in disgust at the material. He had seen what passed as clothing on Midgard before and was not impressed. “I have my armour.”
She frowned. “It’s all torn up from you wound, which by the way, we need to clean up before it becomes infected.”
“It can be repaired easily enough,” he stated. “I have no need for this… shirt.”
She pursed her lips as they stubbornly faced off for a moment before she shook her head.
“Okay, but I’m cleaning that hole in your chest no matter what you say. God or not, it needs to heal properly and Jane won’t be happy if you bleed all over her mom’s sofa.”
Stepping closer, she shoved at his shoulders and it was surprise at her manhandling of him that made him sit down on the edge of the bath. He watched curiously as she opened the green box that she had brought in with her and when she began unravelling bandages and lotions he understood that this was clearly some kind of Midgardian medicine. Primitive, but then he didn’t have the luxury of looking elsewhere for care.
She poured water over a wash cloth before beginning to clean his chest. Loki gritted his teeth but refused to make any noise. The girl – Darcy Lewis, that was her name – eyed him as she attended to him, but did not try to reassure him as the healers in Asgard did, which he was thankful for. That did not mean that she would remain silent however.
“Jane said you saved her life out there,” she began.
He decided the best course of action for him at this point was to remain silent.
“She says that Thor’s plan would never have worked without you. That you got them out of Asgard and then tricked the weird elf guy into getting the Aether out of her. She said you threw her out the way of a black hole and nearly got sucked in yourself.”
He kept quiet, listening to this almost-heroic description of his actions.
“Eric, on the other hand, thinks you’re dangerous and that Thor should have left you to rot in your cell,” she continued blithely. “They’re arguing about it now.”
He could hear them arguing outside, but now he knew why. As interesting as this was, he failed to understand why this child was sharing it with him.
She replaced the water she had been cleaning his chest with with a clear liquid that burned as she swiped it over the raw skin. Loki bit back the hiss that threatened to escape.
“Turn around,” she ordered.
He hesitated. It was not that he actually thought that she could hurt him, but the thought of having his back to both her and the door where others could enter sent prickles down the back of his neck.
Straightening, the girl met his eyes, appearing to search his face for something before nodding. “Yeah, okay.”
Bending over, she shuffled out of her boots and a pair of cotton garments covering her feet before bracing herself on his shoulders. He flinched back at contact and she scowled at him, completely unconcerned by the dark glare he shot her.
“Hey. Do you want this cleaned or not, ‘cos if you won’t turn around then this is the only way to sort you out.”
He glared at her for a moment at her presumptuous behaviour in touching him without permission, but mentally acknowledged that this was a creature who seemed wholly incapable of asking permission for anything. Still, she was trying to help in her own ineffectual way, unlike anyone else in these quarters, and it wasn’t as if he couldn’t just snap her neck if she did decide to attack him.
Raising his hands for her to grip, he smirked when she hesitated before taking them and climbing into the bath behind him. He could only assume that she lacked a general sense of self-preservation, although he could probably have guessed that the moment she shut herself alone in this room with him. It was… intriguing.
She began to treat the point where the scimitar had entered him in the same way she had treated his front, brushing his hair out of the way over his shoulder before resting her hand briefly on his shoulder. It was a curiously intimate gesture.
She picked up her one-sided conversation from where she had left it. “Eric’s managed to pin down the location of the convergence though so we’re going to go there, draw the Aether out of the crazy elf guy and then close all the portals.”
He almost snorted at her description and broke his silence.
“What a wonderful plan. Let me guess – Thor came up with it. It has all the hallmarks of his stupidity about it.”
“Hey!” The hands on his back became less gentle. “It’s Jane’s plan too, and she actually is a genius.”
“Clearly it will be a success then,” he remarked, the sarcasm in his voice heavy.
“His plan to break you and Jane out of Asgard worked, didn’t it?” the girl countered.
Loki scoffed. “Barely.”
There was blissful silence while she covered his back in the stinging liquid rather more viciously than she had applied it to his chest.
“He trusts you to help him,” she stated suddenly, quietly.
Loki froze.
“He still trusts you even though you tried to kill him. Please don’t take that away from him. He’s your brother.”
“He would have you beg me for my loyalty?” he asked curiously, ignoring the ‘brother’ comment. That was a road he refused to tread down, at least before any of this was over.
“Obviously he has learnt nothing.”
“He didn’t ask me to beg anything,” she retorted. “He just said that he could trust you now, after what you did for Jane. I’m asking for him… as his friend.”
Loki tilted his head curiously.
It was a rather impassioned plea, coming from this child who had known Thor for less than a week in total, but then, Thor always did had the ability to invoke loyalty in those he met. It was just his way, even if it was a sticking point between the two of them.
Still, it provided an … opportunity.
“What will you give me if I do?” He made sure to add the just right hint of suggestiveness to his voice and this time it was she who froze.
He kept very still and in the silence of the bathroom he heard her swallow loudly.
“You…” She paused and he felt his lips curl up at the hesitation in her voice.
This child had shown no fear of him from the moment he had arrived into this dwelling, not even a hint of wariness that even Thor regarded him with. He wasn’t sure whether this pleased or annoyed him, but it was comforting to know that he could unsettle her too, even if it wasn’t in quite the manner he anticipated.
“I… I didn’t know I would have to give you anything in return.” She would’ve have sounded unconcerned by his question if it weren’t for the slight waver in her voice. “But how about I won’t reopen your stab wound and we’ll leave it at that?”
Loki waved an arm in dismissal. “It is already healing and I’m sure I could easily avoid any attack you may feel compelled to make.”
He felt the weight of her disapproving stare on his back. Eventually she huffed and then stepped around him to climb out of the bath, this time without his aid.
“Stand up and raise your arms.”
He was almost disappointed when she turned back to him, a bandage in her hands and a blank look on her face. Sighing, he followed her instructions and she began wrapping his chest and back up with a fierce focus that let him know she was deliberately avoiding meeting his eyes.
“A pity,” he finally commented, “that your words are so cheap.”
She raised an eyebrow and he clarified his words.
“You claim to want what’s best for Thor – for me to protect him, to follow him blindly on this fool’s mission, to keep him safe – and yet you are not dedicated to him or his Lady enough to sacrifice anything in return. It’s disappointing.”
He smirked down at her as she finished tying off the bandage, but wasn’t prepared for her to step closer to him, tilting her head up and smiling at him provocatively.
“And what could you possibly want from me?” she queried, batting her eyelashes.
His smirk widened to a grin. Ah yes, here was sport indeed. Someone on this realm not adverse to mischief.
“What are you prepared to give?” he asked again, lowering his arms and daring to slide his hands over her shoulders and down her arms. “Anything I ask?”
The air in the bathroom became almost stifling as the girl raised herself up onto her toes, her face tilted up as if she would kiss him. At the last minute she changed direction so her mouth was angled towards his ear.
“Maybe not,” she breathed huskily.
His appreciative laugh at her response broke the tension in the room and she took a step back and began pulling her foot coverings and boots on again. Following her example, he picked up his tunic and shook it out, the stitching in the torn fabric reforming under his palms, and then pulled it on, ignoring the pain that shot through his torso as he did.
The girl – Darcy – finished redressing and turned towards the door, pausing with her palm on handle.
“We’re leaving in an hour for Greenwich. There’s food if you want to eat beforehand.” She paused. “I don’t know what they would have given you in prison…”
She shrugged and opened the door but he stopped her before she could leave, curiosity getting the better of him.
“You’re not going to plead one last time on my brother’s behalf? For me to keep him and the rest of you safe? To not turn my back on you and your companions?”
She looked back then and smiled at him – a strange smile that he couldn’t quite fathom.
“No,” she said eventually. “I know you won’t betray us – Thor especially.”
He laughed scathingly at her confidence, amused that this child thought she could predict his behaviour.
“And how do you know that?” he mocked.
Her smile widened. “Because you called him your brother.”
The door closed softly behind her.