Coffee and Books 3

Chapter 16

Seeing Loki inside my head is both scary and beautiful. A green glow radiates from him, as if the golden glow isn't putting him in the spotlights enough already. I guess this is the real Loki, the image of his horned helmet and green cape becoming more prominent as he dives into my memories. Because that is what we discussed: placing the bond was a matter of seconds, Loki could probably even have done it with his restraints on, them being on their recent lower setting. It might have taken him a little longer and it would have drained him, but he could have done it. It's just easier with his full powers. However, he is using this opportunity to get a feel for the origins of my powers. And part of that process is sifting through my memories, to try and find signs of my magic. Loki is working quickly, all I can see is flashes of my life. He pauses at an image that I know very well, it's one of my first memories of my dad. Together, we blew three candles on my birthday cake. It's actually a false memory, as I can only remember this because we have video recordings of this moment. That's why I can hear my father's voice and see him lean over next to me, to blow the candles with me. Uncle Lars shot the video, my parents didn't own a video camera at the time. I have watched the tape many times, it's the only moving image I have of me and my dad together. The rest is just pictures - there are a lot of them, but nothing beats seeing my father move and smile.

"You look like him," Loki tells me gently and his grip on the back of my neck tightens shortly. Then he moves on, spreading his influence through my whole head, my entire body.
My fingers dig in his biceps and I hear Loki making a shushing sound to calm me down. I try to breathe evenly, getting used to the slightly unsettling sensation. It's not uncomfortable and I still feel safe, it's just... weird. I feel naked, in a very intimate way.
I wonder if Loki can find something and the moment I think of it, he answers my thought. "I think so..."
Suddenly I can feel him sort of jerk back, like something spooked him. He is quick to put a stop to my equally shocked reaction. "Silence, love," he shushes me. "I'll tell you later."

Oh, yeah, don't let Tony Stark know what we're doing here. Thor knows, but Stark can't know we kinda tricked him into giving Loki's powers back, at least for a short while. I focus back on the memory of my dad, enjoying the scene.

"Two minutes," Stark says suddenly, letting us know time is almost up.

***

Sifting through Ylva's memories is easy; whether it is trust or naivety, she has letten him in all the way. The golden glow barely surprises him. Whenever he lowers his defences to really let her in, it feels like basking in sunlight; why would her mind be any different?

Her memories about him are easily recognisable, most are nice and warm, some are tinged with sadness. Loki keeps one in front of him while he flips through the rest. It's Ylva's memory of dancing with him at the gala. She looked so beautiful that night... She had made everything look so simple, it reminded him of times long past. And then it all came to a screeching halt, when he was forced to watch powerlessly how his brother and Iron Man fought a battle for him. All he could do was get her unconscious body out of the car. It was then that he realised what she meant to him and how dangerous that could be. Caring for a mortal...

Loki quickly picks another memory, one of an adorable little girl with pigtails, blowing out candles on a birthday cake. Next to her is a man who reminds him of a younger Lars Frederikson: Ylva's father, Ulf. He's probably only a little older than Ylva is now and the likeness is uncanny. "You look like him," Loki sends out to Ylva, who smiles warmly at the memory of her father. By Valhalla, how he loves this young woman.
She relaxes a little more and Loki uses that to widen his search, trying to find the origins of her magic with his own. Ylva tenses up again, though she is quickly soothed by the sound of his voice. Her trust in him is moving; empowering him while at the same time making him dangerously vulnerable.