Soror (Loki's Sister)

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•Chapter Thirty-Four•
In Which the Hallways Never End
(UNKNOWN LOCATION)
REWRITTEN

Between Addea and me, we carried Darcy out from the dungeons.  She was still unconscious and her head hung limply. 

I had done my best to wrap her arm again with the little I had.  Luckily, with the way her arm was chained, she hadn't lost much blood until I un-cuffed her wrists.  I knew it was a mistake the moment her wound started gushing blood, but I needed to get her out—we needed to get out.

And the hallways seemed to never end.

I'd lost count of how many corners we turned and how many corridors we passed through. We didn't see an exit and we definitely didn't see any other living creature. I couldn't help but think we were just running on borrowed luck.

Addea kept the ringing silence filled by softly explaining how she ended up locked up in Thanos' lair. She explained that she was a light elf—one that was able to create and bend fire to her will. Because of this rare gift, Thanos had locked her up and then took control of her husband's mind to ensure that she didn't try to escape.

"We need to find him." She had said, a desperate tone in her voice. "I will help you and your friend to escape but I will not leave until I have find Jakob."

I had told her I would get Darcy to safety and then I'd come back with help.

She laughed, saying that I was determined for a child—and then told me that she was more then thankful for the backup.  But this was only if we could find our way out.

And it seemed to get harder with every step.

We continued on. Hallway after hallway until I could no longer support Darcy. We stopped, both of us breathing hard.

"The irony," Addea panted, "is if I had not been starved, I would have been able to do this by myself."

I stared at her as she let out a tired laugh.

"If I had my full strength, I could carry the both of you out if I wished." She mused quietly. For a moment, I held my breath. If she was really that strong in full strength, how strong was her fire abilities?

"But naught, it seems the Norns have a sick sense of humor."

Addea's lips curled in, her gaze growing dark. She breathed out sharply and started to lift Darcy again, but a voice called out down the corridor.

"Addea."

Addea's head whipped around at the call of her name. A heavy breath of air escaped her lungs and her ears twitched. 

"Jakob?"

I looked at who she was looking at and my own breath was knocked out of my chest—but for another reason entirely.  It was the dark haired man.  The one that kidnapped me and put the mark on my wrist.

"Addea, w-what?  What's.....what's going o...." my voice was drowned out by Addea's.

"Who am I speaking with."  She hissed, a desperation like I had never heard before, in her voice.  "Jakob, is this you....or are you Thanos' proxy."

Pain.

Indescribable pain flashed through Jakob's eyes—eyes that were no longer blue.  Now they were so brown that they were nearly black.

"Jakob," his name came out in rasp, as if he hadn't spoken for years. 

"I'm Jakob."

Addea's shoulders slumped and I'm sure if we weren't supporting Darcy, she would have ran to him.  Her husband, who's brain had been tampered and prodded with for however long that they had been stuck here.

He didn't put that mark on me in his own free will. 

He was good.

Tears slipped down Addea's cheeks as Jakob moved closer.  He stopped a good ten feet away when his eyes landed on me.  Shame filled his dark eyes.

"How did you break through."  Addea asked, voice nearly breaking. 

"I...I h-hurt, I hurt," he stumbled over his words, lifting a finger at me.  "Her.  I...I cursed a c-child."

Addea shook her head, "no, this is Thanos.  This is not your fault."

"It is."  Jakob's eyes glossed over, water welled.  "I'm sorry."

My jaw locked. I could feel the mark burning on my wrist.

"It's not your fault."

~*~

Ice and snow billowed around Loki, suffocating him in the endless white. The scene reminded him of Jotunheim—if not for the towering evergreens lining his path and the sight of the massive, dilapidating cabin in the distance.

He knew that was where Lorien was being held—her magic seeped from the wood.

Loki held his breath as he trudged towards the house. His fingers, tinted blue the farther he went. Loki nearly paused, staring down at the mark of his true parentage—then he shook away the feeling that came over him and he continued the house.

Loki knew what he had to do would not be easy. Thanos would not let either of them go without a fight. He could only hope that Thor would be coming soon with back up.

His boots clambered up onto the stoop of the house; he shook the snow from his hair.

A wave of cold washed over him—a familiar feeling of his magic coursing through his body. Then, like the snapping of two fingers, a perfect replica of himself surged from his form and continued forward towards the door as he stepped aside. He drew two daggers, both materialize out of thin air as he backed away from his illusion.

His illusion reached for the door handle just as the old oak door swung open. Chituari claws reached out to strike the illusion only for them to fall straight through. Loki had struck down the Chituari before his illusion had even fully dissipated.

Then, with grace and the cunningness that could have only came from his own mother—Loki stepped into the frozen mansion, ready to kill.