Mischievous Games│Loki

━ 𝟎𝟒

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𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒊𝒓𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒚 (𝒏.) - 𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒅𝒊𝒄𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒇𝒖𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉 𝒅𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒎𝒔

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DAY FIVE OF HIS AWFUL IMPRISONMENT and Loki found his resolve quickly beginning to diminish. The hours went by without a trace, without being able to see the sun it was difficult to tell what time of day it was or if any days had passed at all. He hated the feeling and despite his pale complexion, he longed to feel the sun on his face and the freedom of breathing fresh air.

Sadly, the only pockets of complacency he felt were the times that Artemis would come to visit. He had been resentful at first, at the very least a tad abrasive. He still loathed the girl and wished to choke the life out of her but there was more too it now.

It was fun arguing with her, sparing with their words quickly became a game between them. And although she would never admit it, Loki assumed that she enjoyed his company, seeing as though she checked up on him more than the rest.

He was speculating that perhaps the only reason he could tolerate her presence was that she was the only one who ever dared to speak to him in such a crude manner and live to tell the tale.

He also figured that perhaps all the time Artemis spent forcing him to eat atrocious Midgardian food or whining about how terrible he was beginning to smell was a way to unconsciously distance herself from her precious Avengers. Perhaps it was because she was as terrified as a baby fawn taken into a new family. The little he knew about Artemis was that she had spent her life quite alone and, like any Midgardian, had her insecurities. What scared Loki was that he could relate to her because of it and he despised that.

Loki had expected Artemis to come waltzing in that morning with the same look of sheer confidence and amusement on her face and a new challenge, but to his utter surprise, the Eagle Man himself strolled in.

So now, Loki was sitting there, with absolutely no entertainment, watching as Clint Barton fiddled with his arrow meticulously.

Barton was sitting on a stool beside Loki's cell, merely grunting at him when he had entered and given him his food. His stool was facing away from the cell, but every now and then, Loki noticed Barton's fingers tense on his arrow and his eyes drift toward the God of Mischief.

On the surface, it seemed as if Barton was the perfect agent; headstrong and fearless, but Loki felt a swell of pride knowing that his brief time in Barton's head had left the tough man wounded.

Loki felt the urge to poke that wound until it bled.

"So, where is that lovely niece of yours?" Loki questioned, slithering up to the glass and tapping on it insistently. "I really have missed her so."

"Shut it," Barton said, with no indication in his voice that he was any but disinterested. However, Loki did notice his fingers tense on his arrow once again. "If it had been my call, I'd have put that trap right over your mouth and starved you."

Loki's brows shot up discreetly. "Who's call was it then?"

Barton's shoulders immediately mimicked the tension in his fingers as he turned toward Loki. "Artemis. My girl's always had a soft spot for loss cases."

"Yes, I've noticed she has quite the compassionate side when it comes to me. It is enchanting, to say the least," Loki said truthfully. He wasn't expecting to verbalize the thought of her caring toward him to Barton, let alone to himself. When Barton let out a snort, Loki found himself on the losing side of the taunting he had started.