Faces That You Meet, 1/8. NC-17
Title: Faces That You Meet
Author: Eustacia Vye
Author's e-mail: eustacia_vye28@hotmail.com
Rating: NC-17
Pairings: Loki/Natasha, Natasha/Winter Soldier, Loki/Natasha/Winter Soldier.
Disclaimer: Not mine! Not even by a little bit.
Spoilers/Warnings: MCU AU. Based off of futurerustfuture-dust's initial dark!blackwinterfrost idea. I didn't use the written material you sent me exactly, but here's hoping you like this one, too. :) Russian words have hovertext translation thanks to Google Translate, so please let me know if I goofed something and I'll fix it. Title, epigraph and chapter titles are all from "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock" by T.S. Eliot.
Summary: A left turn instead of a right, and Loki tumbled down into the frozen tundra of Russia, right outside the Red Room. An honest mistake, but it soon changed everything. And he was never one to share his toys.
There will be time, there will be time
To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet;
There will be time to murder and create,
And time for all the works and days of hands
That lift and drop a question on your plate;
Time for you and time for me,
And time yet for a hundred indecisions,
And for a hundred visions and revisions,
Before the taking of a toast and tea.
― T.S. Eliot
One - Disturb The Universe
The tundra was colder than Loki Odinson thought it would be. It more than cooled the anger he felt that had driven him from Asgard after one too many jibes to his character. Loki was gifted at seidr, unnaturally so, but perhaps this affinity was why he had such different coloring and temperament than his older brother. Thor, burly and blond and loud, cavorted and postured, relied on his brawn and first born status. Loki was lithe and wiry, dark haired and quiet, given to sarcasm and wit more than mindless violence. He didn't begrudge his brother the throne, but would have preferred more respect for his skill. Tricks though they were, they came in handy and often saved the royal brothers.
"My sun and moon," their mother would call them, smiling with pleasure. Queen Frigga of Asgard was the epitome of grace, beauty, knowledge and kindness. It was she that recognized Loki's skill and encouraged it.
Loki wasn't sure if he should resent her for it or not.
No one knew that he was aware of paths off world besides the Bifrost, and it was a secret he guarded quite jealously. Taking a left turn through the corridors off of Asgard had left him in an unbearably cold place. Not Jotunheim, he knew that much.
A simple spell sent him in the direction of a large complex with walled-in grounds. They were tall, made of dull gray concrete and concertina wire coiled atop it. The building was rather nondescript as well, and he thought it looked rather like a dingy gray prison. Loki floated above the frigid landscape, invisible to the eye, determined to see what sort of place this was. Why would there be a prison out in the snow, in the middle of nowhere?
Little girls were in one courtyard, standing in rows, facing each other in the snow, dressed in only flimsy white nightgowns. A rather stern looking woman with a clipboard and pen stood at the end. She wore heavy winter clothing, her parka lined with fur. When one girl began to shiver, the woman barked out a sharp reprimand. The girl tried to stop, but the shivering only grew even more intense.
The woman was going to harm the girl, he realized, and couldn't simply allow that to happen.
He cast a translation spell and covered himself with an illusion, so that he would look like whoever was in charge. The woman would have to obey and get the little girls back inside before they all froze to death.
"Comrade Bezukhov!" the woman cried when he appeared to walk into the courtyard. "What an unexpected pleasure. As you can see, we are conducting the first of the environmental tests."
Loki looked at the shivering, miserable girl, her blonde hair frozen to her scalp. "And that one?"
"Failing, obviously," the woman said with derision in her voice. "We have to issue a correction."
The girl looked terrified. This was probably not her first failure and correction.
"The others are doing admirably. And of course, our star in the class is Natalia." The woman looked at a girl with bright red hair and vivid green eyes. She flicked a glance toward the two of them without shifting her head. Loki somehow had the feeling that she saw through his illusion, though it would be impossible.
"Get them inside. Enough testing for today," Loki ordered her.
She managed not to sputter, but the woman was clearly confused. "Right away, sir," she said with a crisp, efficient nod. She barked orders at the girl, and they all turned with clockwork precision and marched back inside. The redhead managed to sneak a glance at Loki, brows furrowing and lips slightly downturned. But when she realized he was looking at her, her features instantly smoothed into impassivity.
Interesting. Perhaps he could explore this strange place and figure out what was going on. That would relieve any boredom, and certainly was distracting himself from his anger.
Following the woman inside, Loki soon learned about the facility. Russia's Red Room, spoken about only in certain circles and only then in whispers, was the training ground for the best female assassins that the world has ever seen. "They will wear any face, are anyone, can do anything," one of the handlers boasted. "They are the perfect machines, tools to the regime, the lever used to press the right buttons." There was some kind of uncomfortable undercurrent to his words that Loki didn't want to examine.
"They are children," he murmured, still apparently wearing the face of Comrade Bezukhov.
The handler he was speaking to laughed, but it was cruel, edged laughter. "They are killers already. They are not children any longer."
"Killers, eh? No glorious battles to speak of, then?" Loki guessed, disdain not apparent in his tone. Not that the handler seemed to care about that kind of thing. He hurried to detail various assignments the girls in his care were sent on, usually to trap politicians with blackmail material, killing them outright, or torturing them slowly for information.
They were tools. Objects meant to be used for specific functions, discarded when broken or no longer useful in some way. Even the weaker girls were still useful, as they were sparring partners or target practice. Every single girl, from the tiny Mariska to the wildly successful Natalia, were nothing more than numbers in a ledger or pawns on a chessboard. These handlers and officials liked to think of themselves as kings, but they were cruel and disgusting, and Loki knew what true kingship was like.
No longer amused by his stay, Loki nodded briskly at the man and left. He let invisibility cloak him again, and he stalked the halls, agitation in his step. Something didn't feel right here. Or perhaps it was a dissatisfaction within himself. He was no longer angry at the words that Volstagg had uttered in his ignorance. In fact, Loki couldn't even recall them. They were nothing more than the fleeting shadow of a cloud passing in front of a sun.
He saw the girls in their dorm, the woman from earlier overseeing them. A knot of four girls were beating on the fragile one that had shivered, the woman cold and unyielding as she watched. The redhead didn't join in the fray or watch, but was making up several beds to keep busy. Her eyes flicked back a few times, lips pressed together, but she otherwise had no reaction when the little girl wailed. She didn't enjoy casual cruelty the way some of the other girls did, but was also interested in her own survival in this place.
Loki left the dorm and went looking for the route back to Asgard. It was the shining beacon of hope and order within the Nine Realms, of that he was absolutely certain now.
***
There wasn't opportunity to think on the odd sojourn to Midgard until some time later, when Thor roared with disappointment at being bested by Loki at a practice session. Loki had been swift on his feet, far more nimble than Thor, and had scored more hits in a shorter amount of time than anyone else in their number. Hogun had nodded at Loki appreciatively, Fandral made some kind of flippant comment, and Volstagg scowled at his broken record. Sif said nothing, still staring down at her blade with her long dark hair pulled back into a tight ponytail. The other warriors they trained with laughed at Thor. Most didn't necessarily praise Loki for the skills he did possess, but they all acknowledged he knew how to fight well.
"Careful there, my prince," one of the warriors taunted. He had gotten injured earlier in the day and had started drinking mead steadily ever since. "One would think you've never held a sword before, the way you lost."
A hush fell over the entire company. The drunk didn't seem to think he did anything wrong, and continued drinking. Thor narrowed his eyes at the man, but it was Loki who rushed forward, sword still in hand, and stabbed him in the gut before he was even aware of what he was doing. But no one could insult his older brother but him, and certainly not regarding his skill with swords or battle. The slander was so patently false, but stirred a deep anger inside of Loki that couldn't be quenched even with the idiot's blood flowing. Other warriors had to keep him back so he didn't stab the man again or lop off his head.
"Hold, Loki," Thor said, resting a hand on his arm. "He is simply deep in his cups."
"And the vile words on his tongue are an insult to be repaid," Loki replied, shaking off the unwanted hands holding him back.
"Then I should repay it, as the insult was dealt to me," Thor said evenly, shaking his head at the wounded man. "I can fight my own battles Loki. I don't need my little brother doing it for me."
Loki grit his teeth, because clearly Thor was belittling his efforts to help. "I see," he replied tightly. He tossed his sword aside; it was only a practice blade, not one of the more finely crafted ones anyway, and stalked from the practice field. He ignored the others talking or calling out to him, ignored the Warriors Three looking at him or Sif's questioning gaze. Their very presence felt cloying and awful, an affront to his sensibilities. He disappeared through the halls of the training grounds, past the stables, slipping into the shadows. His dark coloring worked well for him here, because he was able to move without being seen by palace staff.
Before he knew what he was consciously about, Loki had wound his way through the hidden soft spots beneath the palace. One of them was a way to walk the branches of Yggdrasil to visit other realms. He hadn't taken this way before, but it called to him, a familiar pull in his blood. His feet knew the way to walk, and before he knew it, he was tumbling out onto a familiar tundra.
It was spring now, warmer and brighter, fading traces of melting snow. The complex still looked like some kind of industrial prison, but a bit more worn in places. Casting his spells, he tried to think back on the last time he had been to this place. It must have been something like a year, perhaps. He really hadn't thought much of it at first; Midgard was full of cruel, backward people that appeared to like torturing young children and abusing them in ever more creative ways. But Asgard didn't seem like such a shining bastion of hope at the moment, so he kept his lips shut and eyes open as the invisibility settled along his skin.
Girls were using staves and doing drills in the courtyard, this time in identical red dresses. These were older girls, bodies growing round and plump as they matured. Loki didn't think they were the same group he had seen before, but possibly could be; they were fewer in number, harder edged and had better blank faces. One of them had vivid red hair and startling green eyes, and she seemed to shiver when he passed. Was she sensitive to magic?
Wandering about the complex, he saw the same pinched-face older woman with a different group of young girls. These were definitely not the girls he had seen before. Just how many groups were they training? In this group, the best student seemed to be a blonde named Yelena, whose eyes shone with pride at every compliment paid to her.
What was this place?
In a different area were older girls, women really. Handlers tested various things, and Loki didn't care to stay and observe. He had no interest in seeing how the women handled pain tolerance, being drugged, being beaten without making a sound, seducing targets while being observed, torturing targets to extract desired information that had been planted there for retrieval. His interest was drawn to one handler moving swiftly down into the bowels of the complex, lips pressed tight into an unhappy line. Oh, that would have to be interesting, yes?
He used a keycard and passcode to enter a separate laboratory area. There were girls strapped into chairs, eyes taped open as they had to watch screens while drugs were administered. That was boring and didn't interest Loki at all. It didn't interest the handler either, as he progressed through that hall and into the next. He waited expectantly when he saw a group of white coated men around an upright tube with a circular window in it, frost along the inside of the glass. Not one of them seemed to register his presence.
"Well?" the man asked them impatiently. "Is he going to be ready on time?"
"Things proceed, Comrade," one of the coated men replied, a deferent edge to his voice. "The Asset will be ready on schedule. Any particular instructions required?"
"I forwarded the proper protocols to Breslin."
The man in the white coat frowned at the handler. "I am unaware of this agent."
"He's being brought in to oversee the final selection of the Black Widow from the current class," the handler said. Apparently this man was more important than Loki had thought.
Shifting focus from the grandstanding handler and kowtowing scientist, Loki shifted back to the tube. He couldn't really see through the frost on the glass, and was suddenly annoyed by the scurrying people around him. At least none have bumped into his invisible form yet; the spell created a subtle field that living beings naturally avoided even though there was nothing that they could see. If he wanted to see inside the tube, he would have to force it open or wait for whatever protocols the handler was talking about to be used.
Loki had never claimed to be patient.
Forcing open the tube, it looked as if the locking mechanism had simply failed and released. Inside the tube was a man with scraggly dark hair, layered black clothing with frost over it, and his entire left arm was made of metal. Hm. That was new.
The scientists scurried and scrambled, afraid that the Asset would die if the proper protocol wasn't put into place. Frowning with impatience, Loki traced a healing rune onto the man's chest and then forehead, then breathed life into them. The runes flared with the telltale frisson he associated with magic, and then the Asset took a heaving breath. His eyes were wild and frightened when they snapped open, his mouth open wide in a silent scream. His hands clenched into fists; he was strapped into place and afraid, a blank slate inside a body that was apparently locked away when these people had no further use for him.
Feeling almost sorry for the Asset, Loki traced a memory rune onto his forehead. "You'll only remember the important things. They can't take that from you, no matter how hard they try," he told the trembling, whimpering man. As the spell sank into him, the Asset's tension eased. His eyes fluttered every which way, not quite registering Loki, and the handler that Loki had followed into the lab approached. He looked upset, and Loki had to suppress a snicker. The man's discomfort brought him joy. How wonderful, to make such a minor change while unseen, and the trick caused this kind of distress.
"Check and see what survived. They should have reset everything before the last freeze. If they didn't, wipe him," the handler ordered the scientists. They all scraped and bowed, and one of them started moving toward a machine in the corner.
Whispering with the strength of the seidr behind his voice, Loki curled his lips in amusement. "Your check came up empty. Everything was reset." He didn't know if that was true or not, and it didn't matter to him. But the foolish mortals all absorbed the suggestion, and then went about their business to continue the resuscitation and indoctrination of the Asset. It caused him pain, which none of them cared about, and terrified him before the anguish caused his eyes to glaze over.
Pain didn't ensure loyalty. Pain ensured eventual disobedience and resentment. Loki knew full well how that worked. Someday the Asset would kill these people, and Loki would laugh at their pitiful pleas for mercy. What did any of the Realms care for mercy on an individual? What did Yggdrasil care about one man or one woman? They didn't, of course, and Loki was well aware of the capricious nature of the universe. He had put forth more energy into studying the seidr and spá in the past year, and was still rather shaky on galdr and runic magicks. Still, it was more skill than any in this pathetic realm had.
Hm. Perhaps he could rule this sad little complex. The Asset could be his to command. The girls would be spared from these useless drills and tortures, and Loki was certain that the entire complex could be razed to the ground with the awful handlers inside of it. No one would miss them, surely. He didn't know what to do with the girls yet, but surely he could come up with something given enough time. Perhaps amusement for the better warriors on Asgard? And in providing such girls, the jarls would be beholden to Loki, loyal to his House and less likely to hurl insults at him.
But he was getting ahead of himself. He would have to rule this place first. Luckily, that was bound to be an easy task, particularly if he let his magic augment his natural charm.
First things first. Loki returned to Asgard and ignored the queries about where he had been. It had only been an hour on Asgard, apparently, so it was a reasonable thing to ignore the Warriors Three and Sif. Thor was too busy boasting of this duel and winning it. "He was wounded already," Loki finally snapped, rising to his feet. "Hardly a thrilling challenge."
Thor didn't seem to understand why Loki was so irritated. "Yes, but it was still good combat."
"I will leave you to your reminisces," he said, leaving the gathering hall. His study was crammed full of books, scrolls and various objects his mother had given him to help him focus. Thor hated the room, and never accompanied him there if he could help it. There was little in this library about Midgard, backward and primitive place that it was, and Loki didn't care to share his observations with others. He was searching for more illusion spells, ones that could be layered and shifted more easily, that perhaps wouldn't leave any shimmer of magic behind.
"You are in fine form today," Frigga said from the doorway, an amused curl to her lip. "You best Thor in the practice arena, defend his honor and now study most diligently. Such a good brother you are."
Loki couldn't tell if Frigga was being honest or needling him. He decided to take it at face value for the moment, and merely nodded at her. "I do try."
"I know," she replied brightly, coming into his study. "Mmmm. I hadn't set reading on this subject," she commented, seeing the scrolls in his hands. "Idle curiosity, or some boyish prank that I eventually will have to take you to task for?"
He managed not to roll his eyes. "Do I not simply collect knowledge for its own sake?" he asked, a little edge to his voice.
"You do. But forgive me if I find it a little suspicious that you do so after your brother seems to ignore the care you give him."
"Seems to?" Loki snapped before he meant to. He let out a frustrated breath and put the scroll down. "No, Mother, I was not going to enact some prank. Though now that you mention it..."
Frigga laughed and drew him in for a hug. "Oh, Loki, don't tease. It will get better."
"He doesn't value what I do," Loki murmured.
"No. But if he does eventually take the throne, who will advise him?"
Loki sighed. "Someday, he will take a wife, and she will take on that role."
"But you are clever, and with all the knowledge a prince possesses. You know how much Thor values your wisdom."
"When it's convenient."
By her sigh, Loki knew that she didn't like the surly complaint. "But it is the truth," she allowed after a moment. "Because he still has rash and reckless moments, and he cannot always plan too far ahead. He's young yet, Loki. Be patient."
"It's difficult."
"You're his brother." Frigga pushed a tendril of hair from his temple, a fond smile on her face as she looked at him. "He loves you, even if he doesn't always understand you. His desires are different from yours." Her smile widened a fraction. "Come. If you are interested in complex illusion spells, why don't we go to my library? I have a number of scrolls I was waiting on, until I thought your skill level was appropriate."
Loki's eyes shone with hunger for knowledge, and he eagerly followed her to the library of scrolls, tomes and artifacts in Frigga's care. There were a number of other practitioners of the sacred arts, but Frigga was his primary teacher. She enjoyed passing on her craft just as much as he enjoyed learning for its own sake, and he spent the next several weeks perfecting the complicated illusion spells, so that he barely had to exert any effort at all in the casting. That pleased them both greatly, and Loki was able to accept the stumbling apology Thor gave him for not realizing that his honor had even been maligned until Loki took care of it. That was all Frigga's doing, of course, but Thor's regret was genuine. He really did hate it when the two were at odds. It was good that they usually weren't, though it still rankled when Loki's efforts were not as appreciated as other warriors'.
It was perhaps another month before he remembered the facility on Midgard, and told Thor over breakfast that he planned on doing some traveling on his own. Thor looked eager to come with him, but Loki immediately added "It's to practice my craft and meditate." He had to suppress a smirk at the way Thor's expression faltered and he shrugged instead. "Another time, perhaps, we can travel to one of the realms."
Thor's expression brightened. "Yes, of course. I could always ask Heimdall to let us go to Vanaheim. It's still a safe and prosperous realm. Father will not disapprove."
"Exactly. I'm not sure how long it will take me to complete my studies," Loki told him, as he still hadn't figured out exactly how the differences in time between their realms worked. Perhaps it was a function of walking along Yggdrasil? That was certainly a question he could ponder while walking on the hidden path.
When he did finally emerge in Midgard, it was summer. Loki recognized the passage of more time; there was a green eyed redhead training with the Asset at the facility, her body fully mature and agile as they fought. She was graceful, movements more like a dance than the deadly sparring that it was. Loki's mouth went dry at the sight suddenly. This was a woman now, not a girl that was far too observant for his liking. Now that the Asset wasn't strapped down and terrified, Loki could see that he was another deadly pawn for these handlers. He didn't have the woman's grace, but there was power in his movement. That carried an allure all its own, one that Loki didn't stop to question.
This place was his. Those two were his. It was as simple as that.
Layering on the illusion spells he had perfected, he moved through the hallways looking like one of the older handlers. There had to be records of some kind, and he was determined to find them and see what exactly was going on.
Finding them was easier than he had thought it would be. The clerk fell all over herself to give him everything he asked for, and stayed just outside the door so that she could fetch him anything else he might need. Loki largely ignored her, focusing on the files that the Red Room facility had collected on all of their students.
The Black Widow program was designed to create female spies; the Wolf Spider companion program had been a dismal failure, the boys killing each other for sport or going insane in the process of getting their augmentations. As a result, the girls weren't given any augmentations, and the focus was on honing innate skills, teaching multiple knowledges useful to spycraft, extensive conditioning, trigger words, auditory cues, manipulating loyalties. The prior crops of students had all been very successful, though the nature of the program meant there was only ever one successful Black Widow at any given time. While there were hundreds of girls brought to the program, they were ranked in tiers. Lower tiers could never hope to become a Black Widow, and were instead used as examples for higher tiers to practice on. The girls all had an assigned number as well as their name, though most of the handlers apparently didn't believe in referring to them by names.
The current star of the program was Natalia Alianovna Romanova, the most talented student within her class. As such, she was designated the one to train with the Asset, also referred to as the Winter Soldier in some documents. He was on loan from another organization, and was also meant to test Natalia's resilience and ability to fight even at difficult odds. In their first match, the Asset had broken her wrist, but she had completed the fight despite it. She had continued to fight as the wrist healed, and seemed to understand that it would be a target. As a result, she made sure to be faster and dart out of reach of his arm or weapons. It was noted that she often had fairly acrobatic moves, or distracted others with contortions of her body.
Loki smiled a little. Clever girl. She definitely would be his, not given to some clueless warrior who wouldn't be able to appreciate such a style.
There were a handful of gifted girls in younger classes, and they haven't started the systematic elimination of students in the younger classes yet. Natalia had two other girls in her class left, though it looked as though a final test would be scheduled soon. Handlers felt Natalia would be able to easily kill them both, especially given how well she was doing in her training sessions with the Asset. So dedicated to the craft, one note read. Missions done with the Asset are exemplary, and both behave in the manner expected of them.
Hm. What did that mean?
Thinking back over the sparring he had seen, it didn't seem to be untoward in any way. They moved fluidly, cordial teacher and attentive student, looking similar in age and ability. It seemed as though they knew each other fairly well, and could anticipate each others' moves.
The two of them had been training for several months, including missions in the field at his request, according to records. Loki's smile took on a sly edge. Were the handlers really this stupid? Or did they allow it because of the impressive completion rate for the assignments? There was a notation that Natalia would eventually be sent to test the loyalty of Alexei Alanovich Shostakov, a test pilot. She would be his wife, and see how well he guarded the secrets he was charged to keep.
Oh, no. That was silly and would be beneath her. Just from what he had seen so far, she was a brilliant and beautiful assassin, deceptively delicate and endlessly lethal. A pilot, no matter how special to the Russian government, didn't deserve her. She was a finely honed knife, not a blunt instrument, and she had to be used in better ways.
Loki had always adored knives.
It was absurdly easy for him to track down the individuals that ferreted out potential missions for the students. His illusions held, so Loki had them change the details for a handful of upcoming missions. Alexei Alanovich Shostakov's future bride would be one of Natalia's classmates, not her. Natalia was earmarked for a special mission that Loki chose not to elaborate on. Though they were confused, none dared to countermand his new order. They didn't realize that he didn't care about Russia or her interests. He didn't care about the fall of the Communist regime or what would happen to the people. The organization that they had gotten the Asset from didn't concern him either; a spell could ferret them out and render them useless. In fact, while he had it in mind, he should probably do just that.
The Red Room would implode over time if there was no attention or directive given to it. He supposed he could try to rule this realm and prove to his parents how clever he really was. That was a chore, though. Rule. Carrying on and caring about innumerable masses, faceless hordes that would be needy creatures relying on him for consistency. Where was the challenge in that? Thor could have that. He didn't want it. He didn't care for the daily chores involved in the successful rule of a realm, only in conquering it. That was where the meticulous planning would be useful, where his mind would be the sharpest.
He could take over the underworld on this realm. Perhaps it would be amusing, and he could offer up this realm's entertainments for the privileged of Asgard. Many of those at court were easily bored and looking for the latest thrill.
That sounded appropriate. It should be diverting enough to hold his interest for more than a moment, and still give him time to study magic and play with his new toys.
When Natalia and the Asset went on a mission together, they scouted the area and discussed the best way to get to the target. They also fucked desperately in the safe house, quiet but intense and messy, hands unable to get clothing off fast enough. Loki had followed them, cloaked in his invisibility spell, and enjoyed watching the play of their bodies over each other. If they could be his in the same way? Oh, his body was already starting to sing with the possibility of it.
Not wanting to tip his hand too soon, Loki met with Natalia while she was dressed as the target's favorite type of girl to pick up at the bar. "If you don't mind," she told him, her husky voice in heavily accented Russian meant to imply she was originally German, "I'm waiting for someone."
"Yes. That's me," Loki told her with a charming smile. "Your skills are impeccable," he purred, dropping his hand over hers. "And I want them serving my interests."
Her eyes were flinty and cold. Before she could draw herself back and away from him, Loki traced a stillness rune on her hand. She felt the tingle of magic settle over her arm, and her eyes whipped from her hand to his face. He was patient, watching how she reacted.
"You know who I am."
"I've known a long time," Loki replied with an incline of his head. "And those imbeciles have no idea what your true potential can be."
"And you do?" she scoffed. "When you've never been my handler before?"
"I don't need to have been." He laughed at her incredulous expression. "I'm better than the pathetic ones that already exist." Loki leaned in close, lips stretched into a smile that maybe was sincere, maybe was intimidating. "You would do better working for me."
Natalia looked away, her bright red hair falling to her shoulder in perfectly coiled waves. "You don't know what you want."
"I want you. I want the Asset. The rest of the Red Room idiots can burn for all I care."
She gasped, eyes fever bright as she turned back to stare at him. "I am loyal," she insisted.
"Of course you are," Loki sneered. "But the moment they threaten to kill you, you won't be."
"I work for the glory of my country," she hissed. "Do you understand such things?"
"Of course." Loki let his fingers trail down her spine. "Do you really think they'll let you keep him? That they won't wipe his mind clean and erase you from it?" He felt her go unnaturally still with his words, though her facial features hadn't changed. She was weighing her options, and inclined her head slightly. "There are so many organizations out there, and they bore me with how little imagination they really have. Drugs, human trafficking, money laundering... It's all boring. Hardly creative at all."
"Did you want to rule a country?"
"Conquering is appropriate," Loki said, stroking the column of her spine and letting his lips hover near her ear. "I am a prince, after all. But the day to day mechanics would bore me."
"Unless I do it. Or the Asset."
"You could," Loki agreed. He took her earlobe into his mouth and tugged gently. Her breath caught, but he couldn't tell if it was her training kicking in or if she was genuinely intrigued by his attentions. He had one hand on her spine and let the other settle onto her thigh. "Do you want the job, Natalia? Do you want to stop wondering when they'll kill you?"
"It won't be today."
"No. But eventually. You know how they are. You're worth something if you remain useful."
"How are you different?" she challenged him. "What will you do if I am no longer useful?"
"Find you a home," Loki replied in an offhand manner. It really didn't matter where she was on this realm.
Her eyes slid sideways and he knew he had hooked her in. She was a survivor above all else, and she knew just how dangerous the Red Room was. "The Asset will follow me, I think."
Loki took her chin in his hand and tilted it up for a kiss. "I'm sure he will. He's infatuated. As am I. Pick a country, my Natalia, and we'll set about ruling it."
There was something hard edged in her gaze. "Take down the Red Room first."
He grinned, slow and almost sinister as he considered her words. "Done."
They sealed the bargain with a kiss.
***
***
To Chapter Two - Spread Out Against The Sky
Author: Eustacia Vye
Author's e-mail: eustacia_vye28@hotmail.com
Rating: NC-17
Pairings: Loki/Natasha, Natasha/Winter Soldier, Loki/Natasha/Winter Soldier.
Disclaimer: Not mine! Not even by a little bit.
Spoilers/Warnings: MCU AU. Based off of futurerustfuture-dust's initial dark!blackwinterfrost idea. I didn't use the written material you sent me exactly, but here's hoping you like this one, too. :) Russian words have hovertext translation thanks to Google Translate, so please let me know if I goofed something and I'll fix it. Title, epigraph and chapter titles are all from "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock" by T.S. Eliot.
Summary: A left turn instead of a right, and Loki tumbled down into the frozen tundra of Russia, right outside the Red Room. An honest mistake, but it soon changed everything. And he was never one to share his toys.
There will be time, there will be time
To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet;
There will be time to murder and create,
And time for all the works and days of hands
That lift and drop a question on your plate;
Time for you and time for me,
And time yet for a hundred indecisions,
And for a hundred visions and revisions,
Before the taking of a toast and tea.
― T.S. Eliot
One - Disturb The Universe
The tundra was colder than Loki Odinson thought it would be. It more than cooled the anger he felt that had driven him from Asgard after one too many jibes to his character. Loki was gifted at seidr, unnaturally so, but perhaps this affinity was why he had such different coloring and temperament than his older brother. Thor, burly and blond and loud, cavorted and postured, relied on his brawn and first born status. Loki was lithe and wiry, dark haired and quiet, given to sarcasm and wit more than mindless violence. He didn't begrudge his brother the throne, but would have preferred more respect for his skill. Tricks though they were, they came in handy and often saved the royal brothers.
"My sun and moon," their mother would call them, smiling with pleasure. Queen Frigga of Asgard was the epitome of grace, beauty, knowledge and kindness. It was she that recognized Loki's skill and encouraged it.
Loki wasn't sure if he should resent her for it or not.
No one knew that he was aware of paths off world besides the Bifrost, and it was a secret he guarded quite jealously. Taking a left turn through the corridors off of Asgard had left him in an unbearably cold place. Not Jotunheim, he knew that much.
A simple spell sent him in the direction of a large complex with walled-in grounds. They were tall, made of dull gray concrete and concertina wire coiled atop it. The building was rather nondescript as well, and he thought it looked rather like a dingy gray prison. Loki floated above the frigid landscape, invisible to the eye, determined to see what sort of place this was. Why would there be a prison out in the snow, in the middle of nowhere?
Little girls were in one courtyard, standing in rows, facing each other in the snow, dressed in only flimsy white nightgowns. A rather stern looking woman with a clipboard and pen stood at the end. She wore heavy winter clothing, her parka lined with fur. When one girl began to shiver, the woman barked out a sharp reprimand. The girl tried to stop, but the shivering only grew even more intense.
The woman was going to harm the girl, he realized, and couldn't simply allow that to happen.
He cast a translation spell and covered himself with an illusion, so that he would look like whoever was in charge. The woman would have to obey and get the little girls back inside before they all froze to death.
"Comrade Bezukhov!" the woman cried when he appeared to walk into the courtyard. "What an unexpected pleasure. As you can see, we are conducting the first of the environmental tests."
Loki looked at the shivering, miserable girl, her blonde hair frozen to her scalp. "And that one?"
"Failing, obviously," the woman said with derision in her voice. "We have to issue a correction."
The girl looked terrified. This was probably not her first failure and correction.
"The others are doing admirably. And of course, our star in the class is Natalia." The woman looked at a girl with bright red hair and vivid green eyes. She flicked a glance toward the two of them without shifting her head. Loki somehow had the feeling that she saw through his illusion, though it would be impossible.
"Get them inside. Enough testing for today," Loki ordered her.
She managed not to sputter, but the woman was clearly confused. "Right away, sir," she said with a crisp, efficient nod. She barked orders at the girl, and they all turned with clockwork precision and marched back inside. The redhead managed to sneak a glance at Loki, brows furrowing and lips slightly downturned. But when she realized he was looking at her, her features instantly smoothed into impassivity.
Interesting. Perhaps he could explore this strange place and figure out what was going on. That would relieve any boredom, and certainly was distracting himself from his anger.
Following the woman inside, Loki soon learned about the facility. Russia's Red Room, spoken about only in certain circles and only then in whispers, was the training ground for the best female assassins that the world has ever seen. "They will wear any face, are anyone, can do anything," one of the handlers boasted. "They are the perfect machines, tools to the regime, the lever used to press the right buttons." There was some kind of uncomfortable undercurrent to his words that Loki didn't want to examine.
"They are children," he murmured, still apparently wearing the face of Comrade Bezukhov.
The handler he was speaking to laughed, but it was cruel, edged laughter. "They are killers already. They are not children any longer."
"Killers, eh? No glorious battles to speak of, then?" Loki guessed, disdain not apparent in his tone. Not that the handler seemed to care about that kind of thing. He hurried to detail various assignments the girls in his care were sent on, usually to trap politicians with blackmail material, killing them outright, or torturing them slowly for information.
They were tools. Objects meant to be used for specific functions, discarded when broken or no longer useful in some way. Even the weaker girls were still useful, as they were sparring partners or target practice. Every single girl, from the tiny Mariska to the wildly successful Natalia, were nothing more than numbers in a ledger or pawns on a chessboard. These handlers and officials liked to think of themselves as kings, but they were cruel and disgusting, and Loki knew what true kingship was like.
No longer amused by his stay, Loki nodded briskly at the man and left. He let invisibility cloak him again, and he stalked the halls, agitation in his step. Something didn't feel right here. Or perhaps it was a dissatisfaction within himself. He was no longer angry at the words that Volstagg had uttered in his ignorance. In fact, Loki couldn't even recall them. They were nothing more than the fleeting shadow of a cloud passing in front of a sun.
He saw the girls in their dorm, the woman from earlier overseeing them. A knot of four girls were beating on the fragile one that had shivered, the woman cold and unyielding as she watched. The redhead didn't join in the fray or watch, but was making up several beds to keep busy. Her eyes flicked back a few times, lips pressed together, but she otherwise had no reaction when the little girl wailed. She didn't enjoy casual cruelty the way some of the other girls did, but was also interested in her own survival in this place.
Loki left the dorm and went looking for the route back to Asgard. It was the shining beacon of hope and order within the Nine Realms, of that he was absolutely certain now.
***
There wasn't opportunity to think on the odd sojourn to Midgard until some time later, when Thor roared with disappointment at being bested by Loki at a practice session. Loki had been swift on his feet, far more nimble than Thor, and had scored more hits in a shorter amount of time than anyone else in their number. Hogun had nodded at Loki appreciatively, Fandral made some kind of flippant comment, and Volstagg scowled at his broken record. Sif said nothing, still staring down at her blade with her long dark hair pulled back into a tight ponytail. The other warriors they trained with laughed at Thor. Most didn't necessarily praise Loki for the skills he did possess, but they all acknowledged he knew how to fight well.
"Careful there, my prince," one of the warriors taunted. He had gotten injured earlier in the day and had started drinking mead steadily ever since. "One would think you've never held a sword before, the way you lost."
A hush fell over the entire company. The drunk didn't seem to think he did anything wrong, and continued drinking. Thor narrowed his eyes at the man, but it was Loki who rushed forward, sword still in hand, and stabbed him in the gut before he was even aware of what he was doing. But no one could insult his older brother but him, and certainly not regarding his skill with swords or battle. The slander was so patently false, but stirred a deep anger inside of Loki that couldn't be quenched even with the idiot's blood flowing. Other warriors had to keep him back so he didn't stab the man again or lop off his head.
"Hold, Loki," Thor said, resting a hand on his arm. "He is simply deep in his cups."
"And the vile words on his tongue are an insult to be repaid," Loki replied, shaking off the unwanted hands holding him back.
"Then I should repay it, as the insult was dealt to me," Thor said evenly, shaking his head at the wounded man. "I can fight my own battles Loki. I don't need my little brother doing it for me."
Loki grit his teeth, because clearly Thor was belittling his efforts to help. "I see," he replied tightly. He tossed his sword aside; it was only a practice blade, not one of the more finely crafted ones anyway, and stalked from the practice field. He ignored the others talking or calling out to him, ignored the Warriors Three looking at him or Sif's questioning gaze. Their very presence felt cloying and awful, an affront to his sensibilities. He disappeared through the halls of the training grounds, past the stables, slipping into the shadows. His dark coloring worked well for him here, because he was able to move without being seen by palace staff.
Before he knew what he was consciously about, Loki had wound his way through the hidden soft spots beneath the palace. One of them was a way to walk the branches of Yggdrasil to visit other realms. He hadn't taken this way before, but it called to him, a familiar pull in his blood. His feet knew the way to walk, and before he knew it, he was tumbling out onto a familiar tundra.
It was spring now, warmer and brighter, fading traces of melting snow. The complex still looked like some kind of industrial prison, but a bit more worn in places. Casting his spells, he tried to think back on the last time he had been to this place. It must have been something like a year, perhaps. He really hadn't thought much of it at first; Midgard was full of cruel, backward people that appeared to like torturing young children and abusing them in ever more creative ways. But Asgard didn't seem like such a shining bastion of hope at the moment, so he kept his lips shut and eyes open as the invisibility settled along his skin.
Girls were using staves and doing drills in the courtyard, this time in identical red dresses. These were older girls, bodies growing round and plump as they matured. Loki didn't think they were the same group he had seen before, but possibly could be; they were fewer in number, harder edged and had better blank faces. One of them had vivid red hair and startling green eyes, and she seemed to shiver when he passed. Was she sensitive to magic?
Wandering about the complex, he saw the same pinched-face older woman with a different group of young girls. These were definitely not the girls he had seen before. Just how many groups were they training? In this group, the best student seemed to be a blonde named Yelena, whose eyes shone with pride at every compliment paid to her.
What was this place?
In a different area were older girls, women really. Handlers tested various things, and Loki didn't care to stay and observe. He had no interest in seeing how the women handled pain tolerance, being drugged, being beaten without making a sound, seducing targets while being observed, torturing targets to extract desired information that had been planted there for retrieval. His interest was drawn to one handler moving swiftly down into the bowels of the complex, lips pressed tight into an unhappy line. Oh, that would have to be interesting, yes?
He used a keycard and passcode to enter a separate laboratory area. There were girls strapped into chairs, eyes taped open as they had to watch screens while drugs were administered. That was boring and didn't interest Loki at all. It didn't interest the handler either, as he progressed through that hall and into the next. He waited expectantly when he saw a group of white coated men around an upright tube with a circular window in it, frost along the inside of the glass. Not one of them seemed to register his presence.
"Well?" the man asked them impatiently. "Is he going to be ready on time?"
"Things proceed, Comrade," one of the coated men replied, a deferent edge to his voice. "The Asset will be ready on schedule. Any particular instructions required?"
"I forwarded the proper protocols to Breslin."
The man in the white coat frowned at the handler. "I am unaware of this agent."
"He's being brought in to oversee the final selection of the Black Widow from the current class," the handler said. Apparently this man was more important than Loki had thought.
Shifting focus from the grandstanding handler and kowtowing scientist, Loki shifted back to the tube. He couldn't really see through the frost on the glass, and was suddenly annoyed by the scurrying people around him. At least none have bumped into his invisible form yet; the spell created a subtle field that living beings naturally avoided even though there was nothing that they could see. If he wanted to see inside the tube, he would have to force it open or wait for whatever protocols the handler was talking about to be used.
Loki had never claimed to be patient.
Forcing open the tube, it looked as if the locking mechanism had simply failed and released. Inside the tube was a man with scraggly dark hair, layered black clothing with frost over it, and his entire left arm was made of metal. Hm. That was new.
The scientists scurried and scrambled, afraid that the Asset would die if the proper protocol wasn't put into place. Frowning with impatience, Loki traced a healing rune onto the man's chest and then forehead, then breathed life into them. The runes flared with the telltale frisson he associated with magic, and then the Asset took a heaving breath. His eyes were wild and frightened when they snapped open, his mouth open wide in a silent scream. His hands clenched into fists; he was strapped into place and afraid, a blank slate inside a body that was apparently locked away when these people had no further use for him.
Feeling almost sorry for the Asset, Loki traced a memory rune onto his forehead. "You'll only remember the important things. They can't take that from you, no matter how hard they try," he told the trembling, whimpering man. As the spell sank into him, the Asset's tension eased. His eyes fluttered every which way, not quite registering Loki, and the handler that Loki had followed into the lab approached. He looked upset, and Loki had to suppress a snicker. The man's discomfort brought him joy. How wonderful, to make such a minor change while unseen, and the trick caused this kind of distress.
"Check and see what survived. They should have reset everything before the last freeze. If they didn't, wipe him," the handler ordered the scientists. They all scraped and bowed, and one of them started moving toward a machine in the corner.
Whispering with the strength of the seidr behind his voice, Loki curled his lips in amusement. "Your check came up empty. Everything was reset." He didn't know if that was true or not, and it didn't matter to him. But the foolish mortals all absorbed the suggestion, and then went about their business to continue the resuscitation and indoctrination of the Asset. It caused him pain, which none of them cared about, and terrified him before the anguish caused his eyes to glaze over.
Pain didn't ensure loyalty. Pain ensured eventual disobedience and resentment. Loki knew full well how that worked. Someday the Asset would kill these people, and Loki would laugh at their pitiful pleas for mercy. What did any of the Realms care for mercy on an individual? What did Yggdrasil care about one man or one woman? They didn't, of course, and Loki was well aware of the capricious nature of the universe. He had put forth more energy into studying the seidr and spá in the past year, and was still rather shaky on galdr and runic magicks. Still, it was more skill than any in this pathetic realm had.
Hm. Perhaps he could rule this sad little complex. The Asset could be his to command. The girls would be spared from these useless drills and tortures, and Loki was certain that the entire complex could be razed to the ground with the awful handlers inside of it. No one would miss them, surely. He didn't know what to do with the girls yet, but surely he could come up with something given enough time. Perhaps amusement for the better warriors on Asgard? And in providing such girls, the jarls would be beholden to Loki, loyal to his House and less likely to hurl insults at him.
But he was getting ahead of himself. He would have to rule this place first. Luckily, that was bound to be an easy task, particularly if he let his magic augment his natural charm.
First things first. Loki returned to Asgard and ignored the queries about where he had been. It had only been an hour on Asgard, apparently, so it was a reasonable thing to ignore the Warriors Three and Sif. Thor was too busy boasting of this duel and winning it. "He was wounded already," Loki finally snapped, rising to his feet. "Hardly a thrilling challenge."
Thor didn't seem to understand why Loki was so irritated. "Yes, but it was still good combat."
"I will leave you to your reminisces," he said, leaving the gathering hall. His study was crammed full of books, scrolls and various objects his mother had given him to help him focus. Thor hated the room, and never accompanied him there if he could help it. There was little in this library about Midgard, backward and primitive place that it was, and Loki didn't care to share his observations with others. He was searching for more illusion spells, ones that could be layered and shifted more easily, that perhaps wouldn't leave any shimmer of magic behind.
"You are in fine form today," Frigga said from the doorway, an amused curl to her lip. "You best Thor in the practice arena, defend his honor and now study most diligently. Such a good brother you are."
Loki couldn't tell if Frigga was being honest or needling him. He decided to take it at face value for the moment, and merely nodded at her. "I do try."
"I know," she replied brightly, coming into his study. "Mmmm. I hadn't set reading on this subject," she commented, seeing the scrolls in his hands. "Idle curiosity, or some boyish prank that I eventually will have to take you to task for?"
He managed not to roll his eyes. "Do I not simply collect knowledge for its own sake?" he asked, a little edge to his voice.
"You do. But forgive me if I find it a little suspicious that you do so after your brother seems to ignore the care you give him."
"Seems to?" Loki snapped before he meant to. He let out a frustrated breath and put the scroll down. "No, Mother, I was not going to enact some prank. Though now that you mention it..."
Frigga laughed and drew him in for a hug. "Oh, Loki, don't tease. It will get better."
"He doesn't value what I do," Loki murmured.
"No. But if he does eventually take the throne, who will advise him?"
Loki sighed. "Someday, he will take a wife, and she will take on that role."
"But you are clever, and with all the knowledge a prince possesses. You know how much Thor values your wisdom."
"When it's convenient."
By her sigh, Loki knew that she didn't like the surly complaint. "But it is the truth," she allowed after a moment. "Because he still has rash and reckless moments, and he cannot always plan too far ahead. He's young yet, Loki. Be patient."
"It's difficult."
"You're his brother." Frigga pushed a tendril of hair from his temple, a fond smile on her face as she looked at him. "He loves you, even if he doesn't always understand you. His desires are different from yours." Her smile widened a fraction. "Come. If you are interested in complex illusion spells, why don't we go to my library? I have a number of scrolls I was waiting on, until I thought your skill level was appropriate."
Loki's eyes shone with hunger for knowledge, and he eagerly followed her to the library of scrolls, tomes and artifacts in Frigga's care. There were a number of other practitioners of the sacred arts, but Frigga was his primary teacher. She enjoyed passing on her craft just as much as he enjoyed learning for its own sake, and he spent the next several weeks perfecting the complicated illusion spells, so that he barely had to exert any effort at all in the casting. That pleased them both greatly, and Loki was able to accept the stumbling apology Thor gave him for not realizing that his honor had even been maligned until Loki took care of it. That was all Frigga's doing, of course, but Thor's regret was genuine. He really did hate it when the two were at odds. It was good that they usually weren't, though it still rankled when Loki's efforts were not as appreciated as other warriors'.
It was perhaps another month before he remembered the facility on Midgard, and told Thor over breakfast that he planned on doing some traveling on his own. Thor looked eager to come with him, but Loki immediately added "It's to practice my craft and meditate." He had to suppress a smirk at the way Thor's expression faltered and he shrugged instead. "Another time, perhaps, we can travel to one of the realms."
Thor's expression brightened. "Yes, of course. I could always ask Heimdall to let us go to Vanaheim. It's still a safe and prosperous realm. Father will not disapprove."
"Exactly. I'm not sure how long it will take me to complete my studies," Loki told him, as he still hadn't figured out exactly how the differences in time between their realms worked. Perhaps it was a function of walking along Yggdrasil? That was certainly a question he could ponder while walking on the hidden path.
When he did finally emerge in Midgard, it was summer. Loki recognized the passage of more time; there was a green eyed redhead training with the Asset at the facility, her body fully mature and agile as they fought. She was graceful, movements more like a dance than the deadly sparring that it was. Loki's mouth went dry at the sight suddenly. This was a woman now, not a girl that was far too observant for his liking. Now that the Asset wasn't strapped down and terrified, Loki could see that he was another deadly pawn for these handlers. He didn't have the woman's grace, but there was power in his movement. That carried an allure all its own, one that Loki didn't stop to question.
This place was his. Those two were his. It was as simple as that.
Layering on the illusion spells he had perfected, he moved through the hallways looking like one of the older handlers. There had to be records of some kind, and he was determined to find them and see what exactly was going on.
Finding them was easier than he had thought it would be. The clerk fell all over herself to give him everything he asked for, and stayed just outside the door so that she could fetch him anything else he might need. Loki largely ignored her, focusing on the files that the Red Room facility had collected on all of their students.
The Black Widow program was designed to create female spies; the Wolf Spider companion program had been a dismal failure, the boys killing each other for sport or going insane in the process of getting their augmentations. As a result, the girls weren't given any augmentations, and the focus was on honing innate skills, teaching multiple knowledges useful to spycraft, extensive conditioning, trigger words, auditory cues, manipulating loyalties. The prior crops of students had all been very successful, though the nature of the program meant there was only ever one successful Black Widow at any given time. While there were hundreds of girls brought to the program, they were ranked in tiers. Lower tiers could never hope to become a Black Widow, and were instead used as examples for higher tiers to practice on. The girls all had an assigned number as well as their name, though most of the handlers apparently didn't believe in referring to them by names.
The current star of the program was Natalia Alianovna Romanova, the most talented student within her class. As such, she was designated the one to train with the Asset, also referred to as the Winter Soldier in some documents. He was on loan from another organization, and was also meant to test Natalia's resilience and ability to fight even at difficult odds. In their first match, the Asset had broken her wrist, but she had completed the fight despite it. She had continued to fight as the wrist healed, and seemed to understand that it would be a target. As a result, she made sure to be faster and dart out of reach of his arm or weapons. It was noted that she often had fairly acrobatic moves, or distracted others with contortions of her body.
Loki smiled a little. Clever girl. She definitely would be his, not given to some clueless warrior who wouldn't be able to appreciate such a style.
There were a handful of gifted girls in younger classes, and they haven't started the systematic elimination of students in the younger classes yet. Natalia had two other girls in her class left, though it looked as though a final test would be scheduled soon. Handlers felt Natalia would be able to easily kill them both, especially given how well she was doing in her training sessions with the Asset. So dedicated to the craft, one note read. Missions done with the Asset are exemplary, and both behave in the manner expected of them.
Hm. What did that mean?
Thinking back over the sparring he had seen, it didn't seem to be untoward in any way. They moved fluidly, cordial teacher and attentive student, looking similar in age and ability. It seemed as though they knew each other fairly well, and could anticipate each others' moves.
The two of them had been training for several months, including missions in the field at his request, according to records. Loki's smile took on a sly edge. Were the handlers really this stupid? Or did they allow it because of the impressive completion rate for the assignments? There was a notation that Natalia would eventually be sent to test the loyalty of Alexei Alanovich Shostakov, a test pilot. She would be his wife, and see how well he guarded the secrets he was charged to keep.
Oh, no. That was silly and would be beneath her. Just from what he had seen so far, she was a brilliant and beautiful assassin, deceptively delicate and endlessly lethal. A pilot, no matter how special to the Russian government, didn't deserve her. She was a finely honed knife, not a blunt instrument, and she had to be used in better ways.
Loki had always adored knives.
It was absurdly easy for him to track down the individuals that ferreted out potential missions for the students. His illusions held, so Loki had them change the details for a handful of upcoming missions. Alexei Alanovich Shostakov's future bride would be one of Natalia's classmates, not her. Natalia was earmarked for a special mission that Loki chose not to elaborate on. Though they were confused, none dared to countermand his new order. They didn't realize that he didn't care about Russia or her interests. He didn't care about the fall of the Communist regime or what would happen to the people. The organization that they had gotten the Asset from didn't concern him either; a spell could ferret them out and render them useless. In fact, while he had it in mind, he should probably do just that.
The Red Room would implode over time if there was no attention or directive given to it. He supposed he could try to rule this realm and prove to his parents how clever he really was. That was a chore, though. Rule. Carrying on and caring about innumerable masses, faceless hordes that would be needy creatures relying on him for consistency. Where was the challenge in that? Thor could have that. He didn't want it. He didn't care for the daily chores involved in the successful rule of a realm, only in conquering it. That was where the meticulous planning would be useful, where his mind would be the sharpest.
He could take over the underworld on this realm. Perhaps it would be amusing, and he could offer up this realm's entertainments for the privileged of Asgard. Many of those at court were easily bored and looking for the latest thrill.
That sounded appropriate. It should be diverting enough to hold his interest for more than a moment, and still give him time to study magic and play with his new toys.
When Natalia and the Asset went on a mission together, they scouted the area and discussed the best way to get to the target. They also fucked desperately in the safe house, quiet but intense and messy, hands unable to get clothing off fast enough. Loki had followed them, cloaked in his invisibility spell, and enjoyed watching the play of their bodies over each other. If they could be his in the same way? Oh, his body was already starting to sing with the possibility of it.
Not wanting to tip his hand too soon, Loki met with Natalia while she was dressed as the target's favorite type of girl to pick up at the bar. "If you don't mind," she told him, her husky voice in heavily accented Russian meant to imply she was originally German, "I'm waiting for someone."
"Yes. That's me," Loki told her with a charming smile. "Your skills are impeccable," he purred, dropping his hand over hers. "And I want them serving my interests."
Her eyes were flinty and cold. Before she could draw herself back and away from him, Loki traced a stillness rune on her hand. She felt the tingle of magic settle over her arm, and her eyes whipped from her hand to his face. He was patient, watching how she reacted.
"You know who I am."
"I've known a long time," Loki replied with an incline of his head. "And those imbeciles have no idea what your true potential can be."
"And you do?" she scoffed. "When you've never been my handler before?"
"I don't need to have been." He laughed at her incredulous expression. "I'm better than the pathetic ones that already exist." Loki leaned in close, lips stretched into a smile that maybe was sincere, maybe was intimidating. "You would do better working for me."
Natalia looked away, her bright red hair falling to her shoulder in perfectly coiled waves. "You don't know what you want."
"I want you. I want the Asset. The rest of the Red Room idiots can burn for all I care."
She gasped, eyes fever bright as she turned back to stare at him. "I am loyal," she insisted.
"Of course you are," Loki sneered. "But the moment they threaten to kill you, you won't be."
"I work for the glory of my country," she hissed. "Do you understand such things?"
"Of course." Loki let his fingers trail down her spine. "Do you really think they'll let you keep him? That they won't wipe his mind clean and erase you from it?" He felt her go unnaturally still with his words, though her facial features hadn't changed. She was weighing her options, and inclined her head slightly. "There are so many organizations out there, and they bore me with how little imagination they really have. Drugs, human trafficking, money laundering... It's all boring. Hardly creative at all."
"Did you want to rule a country?"
"Conquering is appropriate," Loki said, stroking the column of her spine and letting his lips hover near her ear. "I am a prince, after all. But the day to day mechanics would bore me."
"Unless I do it. Or the Asset."
"You could," Loki agreed. He took her earlobe into his mouth and tugged gently. Her breath caught, but he couldn't tell if it was her training kicking in or if she was genuinely intrigued by his attentions. He had one hand on her spine and let the other settle onto her thigh. "Do you want the job, Natalia? Do you want to stop wondering when they'll kill you?"
"It won't be today."
"No. But eventually. You know how they are. You're worth something if you remain useful."
"How are you different?" she challenged him. "What will you do if I am no longer useful?"
"Find you a home," Loki replied in an offhand manner. It really didn't matter where she was on this realm.
Her eyes slid sideways and he knew he had hooked her in. She was a survivor above all else, and she knew just how dangerous the Red Room was. "The Asset will follow me, I think."
Loki took her chin in his hand and tilted it up for a kiss. "I'm sure he will. He's infatuated. As am I. Pick a country, my Natalia, and we'll set about ruling it."
There was something hard edged in her gaze. "Take down the Red Room first."
He grinned, slow and almost sinister as he considered her words. "Done."
They sealed the bargain with a kiss.
***
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To Chapter Two - Spread Out Against The Sky