The Rise to Heroism {Loki Laufeyson} Book One

Chapter Seventeen

The next day, Thor leads me to the Asgard penitentiary, a large, dingy place with a constant chill. It's cells extend down either wall, each holding a convict. They eye me suspiciously, maybe even carnally, but I'm holding out on just their suspicion. Either way, I involuntarily shudder and move on.

The penitentiary is located in the far basement of the palace-like building in which I woke up in. It takes a few flights of stairs in order to get here but when I reach the doors, my heart flutters not only out of fear, but of relief.

Loki has a muzzle strapped to his mouth and his frail-looking body - which leans against the hard, concrete wall behind him - is thinner than usual. His raven hair is frizzed and tousled on his scalp. With each cautious step, I see him in greater detail, noticing his foot is peppered in blood - most likely a result of the miscellaneous pieces of broken furniture that surround him.

Loki is the only prisoner without a cellmate. I guess that it's a sign his adoptive family's love for him remains intact, therefore he still has a leisurely life even in confinement.

I draw my eyebrows together, frightened yet fascinated by the sight of a Loki without his usual calm facade.

"Are you sure you want to be alone with him? He's been a bit crazed as of late." I feel Thor place his hand on my shoulder.

I nod. "Yeah, if he makes a move, I can parody it on him. He trained me himself, so I know his defence tactics better than anyone."

Thor grins and leaves, closing the door behind him.

I step down the stairs, cautious not to trip over the skirts of the dress that the maid had given me that morning. It's a victorian style dress - a dull lavender with pale roses on the fabric. The sleeves reach down to my elbows, continuing on with the soft lace that cuffs my forearm. The corset hugs my torso tightly, holding everything in without an ounce of comfort. The skirts extend to the floor, making it difficult to walk in, but still, I manage to move with it, making my way over to the broken-looking God of Mischief. "Loki?" I ask hesitantly, gingerly touching the orange forcefield that separates us.

His sunken eyes search the room, finally landing on me. His expression softens but he doesn't move. I kneel down and search for a way inside the cell - to be in there with him and thank him for saving my life, for sacrificing his own for my well-being.

"Do you know of any way I can come in?" I try, but all he does is stare at me, although - it doesn't feel like he's staring at me, it feels as though he's staring right through me with his lifeless blue-green orbs. They hold no light anymore and something about this unnerves me. "Please, talk to me!"

I give the room a once-over, a key-pad catching my eye. It sits to my right, just above my head. I jump to my feet, reaching out to touch it, but something stops me. The ring on my finger - the gorgeous ring that Loki gave me on my birthday - starts to glow. Watching as the jewel pulses with bright green energy, I hardly notice the scanner that pops out from the keypad.

Hesitantly, I touch my ring to it. It sinks into the scanner, beeping once and peeling back the orange barrier between him and I. As I pull my ring out of the scanner, it stops glowing, returning to it's normalcy. Shrugging it aside, I climb into the cell, dropping to my knees and fiddling with his muzzle. The damn thing is getting on my already shot nerves.

It finally gives way and I throw it to the floor, sitting back to give him some space.

"Re... Becca?" He says almost inaudibly, correcting himself when he registers my slight squirm as he begins to say my full name. It's as if he doesn't believe it's really me.

"Yes. It's me." I smile warmly at him, wary of the crazed look in his dead eyes.

He slowly gets to his feet, wincing as he puts pressure on his injured foot. His hand takes mine shakily and helps me up. Once standing before him, he searches my face and wraps his arms around my body. Startled, I hug him back.

"It's really you..." He whispers in my hair as he strokes it. He then pulls away and slaps me. The bastard just slapped me!

I stagger back, holding my cheek. "What the hell?!" I exclaim.

"You let me think you were dead, you ignorant mortal!" He pulls me back in. "Thank the gods you're alive."

"Loki, it's not my fault. I just woke up yesterday!"

He stops. "Yesterday? You mean you've been asleep for a week?"

"What?"

"I brought you here a week ago. You were dying and frozen, I had no other choice but transport you here."

I blink. "Uh, thank you."

"No, thank you."

"For what?"

"For this." He picks me up and lays me down on his bed, kissing me. I melt into the kiss, eating him up. He pulls away and scoops me up, placing me back on my feet. I stand there, honestly shocked that he has the strength to do such things. He looks like the literal version of s**t.

"Wow," I breathe, smiling up at him. He smiles down at me, suddenly becoming serious.

"I love you, you know that don't you?"

"Yes, I do." I smirk and he kisses my forehead. I close my eyes upon impact, opening them as he pulls away again.

"They're going to send you back to Midgard soon. But I want you to know that I promise to find my way back to you."

"Loki-" I start, panicking. Is he for real asking me what I think he's going to ask me?

"Please, promise that you'll wait for me?" There it is...

I hesitate. Can I wait for him? It could take years for him to return, hell, millennia!

"I can't promise that - you know that." I whisper and his face hardens.

"Well, humor me." He demands, becoming belligerent.

I sigh. "I promise, you bastard."

He smiles. "That's my girl." He chuckles, his voice gravelly. I match my forehead to his, kissing his nose and pulling away, leaving him in the cell and locking it with the ring once again. As I mount the stairs and open the door, stepping into the small hallway, I turn back and give him one last glance. He grins warmly back at me, his expression fond.

The doors close and I lean back against them, inhaling, exhaling, and letting my imagination wander aimlessly through countless breakout plans.

Maybe I'm an idiot - maybe I'm not. What I do know is that I'm not stupid enough to leave him in there.