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Silver In Chains	By : because_loki Category: Marvel Verse Movies > Avengers, The Views: 5104 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I own nothing related to Marvel's Avengers and will not receive any sort of monetary compensation for my writing.

Chapter List
- 1-Silver In Chains
- 1
Post-Avengers: Loki has been tried for war crimes and exiled with a handler/warden.
***

                Loki woke with a start. His whole body felt bruised and tired and he was still gagged and shackled. What realm was he in? The room he found himself in looked like a simple urban residence of Midgard, but he couldn’t be sure. He tried to lever himself into a sitting position but only managed to prop himself up on one elbow. The cuffs around his wrists and ankles were joined tightly.
                An unfamiliar woman entered the room without warning.
                “Good, you’re awake. Don’t try anything,” she said as she knelt by his ankles and unfastened the latch that kept his ankle cuffs together. She was of Asgard, he was sure, if she had the key to his bonds. He thought about trying to knock her off balance and make a break for it but he was in an entirely unfamiliar place. Better to get his bearings instead of doing something rash. The woman gripped his bicep firmly and helped him to his feet. She steered him into a bedroom and onto a large but plain bed with a heavy metal frame. She buckled his wrists to a crossbar and then left the room. She returned after several minutes with two sandwiches of unknown composition. She loosened his gag and removed it from his mouth, letting the whole metal apparatus hang around his neck. He rubbed the side of his face against his shoulder in an attempt to relieve the aching in his teeth and jaw from the hard rubber mouthpiece.
                “Eat this,” she instructed, offering him the two sandwiches on a paper plate. He didn’t make a move to accept them.
                “Where am I? Thor did not say where I was to be sent.”
                “Midgard. Now eat your food.” She lifted a sandwich and held it to his lips.
                Loki made an odd gesture with his hands, hampered and awkward because of his restraints. He was surprised when nothing happened. His bonds should have broken instantly.
                “You don’t think they’d let you do magic here, do you? Eat this or it’s back in with the gag.”
                “Surely that isn’t necessary,” he suggested.
                “I was told to take no chances, Liesmith,” she responded. He showed no interest in the food she had prepared for him, so she moved to adjust his muzzle. He kicked at her but she had been prepared for a struggle. He was shocked when she pinned him easily, if ungracefully. She lacked technique but pound for pound she was surprisingly strong. With his hands bound to the headboard and a hundred pounds of Asgardian sitting on his knees he was embarrassingly helpless. She forced the rubber bit back between his teeth and ratcheted down the metal headband. She took a bite out of one of Loki’s sandwiches as she left and closed the bedroom door behind her. All he could do was glare impotently at her back as she walked away. It sickened him.
                Several days passed similarly. Loki lost track after five repetitive days. This woman would come into his room to feed him three times a day. At first he tried to ask her questions or convince her to release him, but he quickly learned that only made her put his gag back on and leave, taking the food with her. Hunger was worse than he expected. He soon conceded and wolfed down the simple meals she prepared for him. Sometimes she frog-marched him to the bathroom to relieve himself. At least she left him in peace for that, unlike when she bathed him. She refused to remove his wrist cuffs so he was forced to sit, humiliated, like a child in the bath while she cleaned his pale body. When he demanded to know why he couldn’t be trusted to bathe himself in privacy, the only answer she gave was that it was for his own safety. Did she think he would try to drown himself as a means of escape? She must have known he was cleverer than that. Of course she did, and that was what concerned her.
                 The information he managed to extract from her was limited. He had been exiled to Midgard in a human body. It was seen as a fitting punishment for inflicting so much upon the native residents. He and his captor lived in a small house in New Orleans, in a part of America called Louisiana. She refused to tell Loki her name or if he was ever to be released from his restraints. He doubted he was to be confined at all times for eternity but this jailor showed no interest in freeing him. He hated her disrespectful, businesslike demeanor. Even in those awful baths, she was cold and impersonal as a groomer bathing a dog. However briefly, he had been a king of Asgard! Did that mean nothing?
                   He started to pay attention to the sounds she made around the house, as well as the noises from outside. He heard vehicles passing frequently so their residence must be in a fairly busy part of town. If he could get free there would be plenty of people to find him anything he needed. His keeper left every other night or so, sometimes more frequently, shortly after dusk. She must have returned sometime in the very early morning hours since he rarely heard her come in, but she was always home when he awoke. He had no idea where she went. A large dog lived in the house but he had never seen it. Sometimes he heard the woman sing, he thought, but her voice was unpolished and amateurish. Every day was painfully identical to the last and it inspired Loki to accelerate his escape plans, but even the master trickster had a hard time coming up with anything viable without the use of his magic or his voice.
                   One morning she brought him his breakfast earlier than usual and she found him still asleep. She had taken to dressing him in plain but soft and comfortable clothes, and his black t-shirt had ridden up a few inches in his sleep. His flat stomach and one of his hips were exposed. His skin was so pale it seemed to have an almost bluish tint. Maybe it was the light, she thought, or capillaries close to the surface reflecting the hue of the blood within them. She hoped he wasn’t ill. He didn’t get much exercise. Maybe she would have to think of a way to get him out for some activity now and then. She sat down the tray of food on the floor and sat down carefully next to Loki on the mattress. She didn’t think she had ever seen him asleep before. He was usually awake and sullen when she visited his room. His dormant features were deceptively peaceful, even innocent. She pressed gently on the skin of his flank a couple times with her fingertips, checking the return of blood flow as one would test a sunburn.
                He responded unconsciously to her touch by rolling onto his back. His position looked uncomfortable with his wrists still cuffed to the head of the bed. Out of the corner of her eye she caught a twitch inside his loose fitting pants. A tiny spot of moisture had soaked through the front of them and a swollen outline was visible behind the soft fabric. She half smiled mischievously. Apparently mortal humans experienced the same affliction as Asgardian men whilst sleeping. She supposed she should be glad for Loki that being forced into a Midgardian body hadn’t radically downgraded all of his biological processes. As if it would matter; he was a prisoner in this realm, there for punishment not enjoyment. Punishment indeed, she thought, and her mind began to wander.
                   She dragged two fingertips lazily along the hard ridge still covered by thin fabric. It pulsed again and he groaned softly in his sleep, an awkward half-choked sound because of the ornate metal gag. Asgardian smiths would never be faulted for their sense of style, even in crafting prisoner restraints. She rubbed him a bit harder through the fabric and cupped her palm and fingers to surround him. He stretched and pressed against her hand. She carefully eased down the waistband of his pants and took his bare flesh in her hand, silky soft skin tight around that solid core. She bent down and slowly licked his tip while keeping a watchful eye on his face. She flicked him twice again with her tongue before he was jolted awake. He recoiled and made some unintelligible muffled sounds behind the mask of his muzzle. His bright green eyes were wide with confusion. His warden grinned wickedly.
                    “Relax, Laufeyson,” she cooed. “May I remind you, your legs are free. Stop me any time you wish.”
                   She bent down over him again and continued teasing him with her warm mouth. Her tousled brown hair draped across her shoulder and tumbled down to tickle the bare skin of Loki’s thigh. He fidgeted uncomfortably for a while as if unsure of how he should react. He gave in and his hips began to rise and fall of their own accord, undulating with the movements of the woman whose name he still did not know. He felt waves of pleasure building deep in his abdomen and his captor sensed him building up as his scrotum tightened.
                    She stopped. Without cleaning her saliva off him she pulled his pants back up. She stood up and fastened his ankles to the foot of the bed so he couldn’t roll over and finish himself by grinding against the mattress. As she headed for the door Loki strained wildly against his shackles and tried to shout furiously at her, but she ignored him and shut the door behind her. Muddled cries sounded from his room for several minutes after she had gone but eventually he gave up and fell silent once more. He thrashed violently in the hard metal restraints, bruising and bloodying his wrists and ankles. He struggled in vain until his erection subsided on its own, leaving a vague uncomfortable sense of pressure. He glared angrily up at the ceiling fan that spun with a slight wobble overhead. Minutes slipped into hours.
                     Loki’s next meal was delivered to him as usual. It was an unusually pleasant-smelling soup but the aroma was lost on Loki, who was too angry to notice such things. As soon as his gag was removed, he launched into an angry rant.
                     “What in Hel’s name was that? What do you mean by just leaving me in such a state?”
                     “Are you going to eat your soup or not?”
                     “Damn the soup! Is that any way to treat a king of Asgard?”
                     “Former king, Loki Laufeyson. Do you need the restroom?”
                     He assented and she led him to the toilet. Behind the closed door he masturbated frantically, hindered only minorly by the wrist cuffs. Even alone, being reduced to such desperation was humiliating.
                     Outside the door, the woman listened curiously to the hushed sounds of Loki pleasuring himself. That certainly wasn’t what she had in mind. She made a mental note to send a request for supplies back to Asgard. The Trickster might turn out to be a more difficult prisoner than even she had imagined.
                     At dinner too she refused to acknowledge the events of that morning. Any question or accusation about it was either deflected or flat-out ignored. That night, as he was drifting angrily into unconsciousness, he thought he heard a close clap of thunder. It alarmed him at first but since nothing seemed amiss, he soon fell into a fitful sleep.
                     The next morning began similarly to the one before it. This time Loki was awake when his jailor entered the room but he pretended to be sound asleep. She taunted him with her soft mouth and fingers just as before. After several minutes he felt himself building up again and knew he would give himself away soon. He dramatically feigned waking up and being unsettled and he was sure he had fooled her. Again she reminded him he was free to push her away, but that this was part of the punishment for the crimes he had committed. He hoped briefly that this time she would finish him so he wouldn’t have to wait for his next trip to the restroom. To his dismay she stopped just short of his orgasm. He growled venomously and tried to curse her, but the damned gag stifled his insults into garbled noise.
                      “You should be more grateful, Laufeyson,” she purred as she stroked him, a maddeningly slow motion on his saliva-slickened skin. “I’ve brought a present for you today. It came all the way from Asgard. I asked Heimdall to have it sent just for you. Do you want to know what it is?”
                     Loki glared at her like a cornered animal.
                     “So angry,” she chided. “I’m feeling generous so I’ll give it to you anyway.”
                     She presented a bottle-sized bundle, something wrapped in fine silk. She unfolded the layers of fabric from around it. Loki looked at it curiously but didn’t recognize the object. It was clearly of Asgardian design, and beautifully crafted of some lustrous amazingly lightweight metal. The woman prodded it with a key and it separated into two halves. She scooted closer to Loki and brought the ‘gift’ close to his still-hard cock. He bucked and jerked as he realized what she meant to do with it, but she leaned over and pinned his thighs. He tried to fight her but she locked the cage around his organ and stood back to admire it.
                  “How does it feel, Laufeyson? Not uncomfortable, I hope. That isn’t my intention at all. I just can’t have you doing what you did yesterday. Now you can use the restroom without misbehaving. It looks quite nice, if I do say so. I didn’t have your exact measurements but I think the smiths did an excellent job.”
                It was in fact not uncomfortable at all aside from a minor coldness that went away as the metal quickly warmed to his skin. He was nevertheless enraged at the thought of having all access to his own body taken away. He was so livid he didn’t even try to speak. There were no words to express the hate he felt.
                 “Of course it will be difficult to wear pants with that. But why would you want to? It really is beautiful. You can try I suppose, but I’d recommend going naked. Up to you of course. Whatever’s comfortable. Maybe if you prove I can trust you, I’ll remove it.”
                 That hadn’t crossed his mind. She was right, and he really didn’t have a choice regardless of what she said. It infuriated him even more. To be forced to be naked at all times? It seemed to him that she thought up fresh ways to humiliate him every day.
                Every day after that became a routine. She would come to his room early in the morning, remove the cage from his cock and tease him to the point just before orgasm. He began feigning sleep longer and longer, sometimes through the whole session because it seemed like she worked harder on him when she thought he was asleep. Often his body would give him away, his hips churning with a mind of their own even though he tried to stay still. He hoped fervently that one time she would slip up and push him over the edge, but she never did. She would drive him mad and then stop as suddenly as she had started, lock him up in his device and leave. She even stopped locking his wrists to the headboard, through she did keep them cuffed together. He slept more comfortably at first but the pressure within him soon became nearly unbearable. Every day he was sure it couldn’t get any worse, but every day it built a little more. The lock she put on him was ingeniously secure and he could do nothing stimulate himself. In desperation he tried to maneuver his cuffed hands around behind his back to get at his prostate, but he wasn’t flexible enough to manage it. The effort shamed him: not the act, but the sheer desperation that drove him to it. He did begin to enjoy living nude; he had always had a vain streak and stretching languorously felt a lot more indulgent in nothing but one’s own skin. Still, it was only a small victory, and far overshadowed by his growing discomfort. He vowed to break out as soon as he could manufacture an opportunity, and hopefully to punish this nameless bitch in the process.
                    Loki’s guardian was concerned for herself. She feared that the trickster god was manipulating her without even the use of his silver tongue. She had started out toying with him viciously, even vindictively, with the full intent of inflicting intense disappointment by withholding his release. She was as angry with him as any Asgardian and had relished the opportunity to be his warden in exile even though it meant having her abilities stripped and taking on a mortal human body for the duration. She was concerned because she had begun to feel more than a spiteful enjoyment during her sessions with the fallen prince. She blamed it on being away from Asgard; Midgardian men were just not the same. She reminded herself that that was no excuse to lust after the Liesmith, Asgardian though he might be. He was an Asgardian murderer, traitor and thief, and deserved to be punished as such. The fact remained that in the midst of exacting payment for his crimes, she found herself enjoying the taste of his skin, the rhythm of his breath, the tang of the slippery juice he oozed when excited. Without meaning to, she had slowly become more sensual- for her own enjoyment, of course- about her methods; she didn’t always just concentrate on his genitals. Sometimes she raked her fingernails along his buttocks or nipped him on a nipple. The muzzle over his mouth and cage around his cock were all the clothing he wore anymore, and the sight was striking to say the least. In her mind they suited him better than the practical Midgardian clothes she had originally dressed him in.
                 One afternoon she marched him into the cramped bathroom for his grooming as usual. She drew a bath and half-wrestled the petulant god into the bathtub. He always struggled but a lot of the fight had gone out of him since they had arrived. He still refused to look at her while she bathed him. She doused warm water over him, slicking down his long black hair. She massaged fragrant shampoo into it and combed it with her fingers a little longer than usual. She rinsed his head, being sure to shield his eyes. When had she started doing that? She couldn’t recall but she knew she used to just drench him carelessly, reveling in his humiliation. She lathered soap over his pale body. His back was smooth, subtly muscled, with just a few scattered freckles across his shoulders. His chest was toned to match, devoid of rippling muscles like his brother’s, with just a slight feathering of black hairs. As she rinsed bubbly lather from his skin, she felt a tightness in her chest and a warm tingling between her legs. She hurried him out of the tub, dried him off, and herded him back into his room. She shut herself in her own bedroom and masturbated until she was physically and mentally exhausted. She lost count of how many times she climaxed. She slept through the evening and into the night. Her dreams were full of sex: sex with strangers, sex with other women, sex in every conceivable combination. Loki wondered hungrily where his dinner was.
                  It was a little past five in the morning when she woke up. It was the type of wakefulness that comes on suddenly and refuses to be ignored. It was bizarrely early but she knew she couldn’t go back to sleep. Fresh from a particularly depraved dream, she decided to take matters into her own hands.
                  She slowly and silently opened the door to Loki’s room. Light was just beginning to filter through the blinds and she made her way to his bedside without too much trouble. Painstakingly she secured his wrists and ankles to the bed again as she hadn’t in weeks. I was excruciatingly slow work, moving his limbs incrementally so as not to wake him. It was about half-light in the room when she finished and sat next to him. She bound up her long hair and took a small brass key from a chain around her neck.
                  Loki had been slowly awakened by being shifted around, but he had still pretended to sleep. Her tactic was unusual but it was impossible to predict her sometimes; she was prone to trying new methods on him. His mind raced as she leaned down close over his face and gently unlocked his metal gag. He parted his teeth to allow her to remove it and believe he was still asleep. She unbuckled it completely instead of just loosening it and for a moment she seemed to do nothing but study his inert features. Without warning she bent and pressed her lips against his. His eyes snapped open and a tremor shook his entire body. For what seemed like an eternity he panicked. He had no defense ready for this- no counter-trick. No one had ever used this tactic on him but he had dreamed of it for years. Her lips were full and warm against his, thin and painfully chapped from weeks of wearing his muzzle. Loki kissed her back clumsily but she didn’t seem to mind. She explored his mouth deeper, hungrily tasting his lips, tongue, and teeth. He was adorably and surprisingly inexperienced, she thought as she cupped the side of his face in her hand, her fingers nestled along the hairline behind his ear. He tried in vain to strategize, to think of a way to turn the situation to his advantage. The pressure in his loins was blinding and he finally gave in to pure lust.
                 His warden hurriedly stripped off the shorts and t-shirt she had been wearing in bed. She fumbled on the key necklace and unlocked the cage around his stiffening organ. He tossed and strained against his shackles but he was bound tight.
                  “Release me, you filthy bitch,” he demanded. His voice was hoarse from disuse.
                 She said nothing in response but gripped him by the jaw with one hand and kissed him savagely while her other hand encircled his shaft and began pumping it rhythmically. The sensation was amazing but familiar. Her kisses electrified him more than anything else because the feeling was so foreign. No one had ever shared something so profoundly intimate with him. He had no doubt; this was not part of her punishment. She was in his bed because she wanted him. He had succeeded. He was good. Very good. Was this the goal he had started out with? He had a hard time remembering while this impassioned woman planted kisses all along his neck, chest and anywhere else she could reach. He remembered wanting to make her pay for the way she had treated him but all he could focus on was the tight warm body writhing on top of him.
                “You’re gorgeous,” he heard himself saying. Why had he said that? Of course, now he remembered. “Release me so I can give you what you want.”
                She smiled at him. The simple expression made him happier than it should have.
                “No, Loki Laufeyson, I cannot. I still see plans within plans behind those eyes. I will take what I want.”
                She straddled him and teased him with her hot wetness. He moaned and strained upward beneath her. She plunged his entire length into her and she arched her back in bliss. Loki gasped and shut his eyes tight, his face contorted with ecstasy. This was so unlike her oral taunting; feeling part of him slide deep into her was so all-encompassing and complete. She’s using you, he warned himself but the thought disappeared before he could expound on it as a wave of pleasure consumed him.
                 She rode Loki slow and hard, grinding the god’s cock against her deepest parts where she craved pressure. She came forcefully and pitched forward to kiss him breathlessly over and over. She came twice more and he could have watched her all night but he felt ready to explode. His breathing became more and more ragged as he fought for control. His partner raised her body up from his and quickly took him most of the way into her mouth. His overcharged head hit the soft wall of the back of her throat and triggered his climax. He shot hot white jets into her mouth and down her throat. She moaned her approval at he pulsed into her over and over. She was amazed by the sheer quantity of semen he produced. He was sure it must have been more than he had ever ejaculated at one time. Damn her for working him up for days or weeks. He had lost track of time. She swallowed everything in her mouth, savoring the salty and metallic flavor mixed with her own tang. It took her two or three gulps to get it all. Loki was speechless. She had put him in her mouth because she wanted to taste his essence, and then she had swallowed it of her own free will. It was an act of total acceptance. He dared not admit how much it affected him. She moved back toward the head of the bed so he could kiss her again. She rested her chin in the hollow of his neck and whispered in his ear.
               “Astrid. My name is Astrid.”
               She scavenged her clothes from the floor and left Loki chained to the bed, his metal gag and chastity cage lying open and discarded among the sheets. The relief of the burning need within him was the sweetest thing he had ever felt.
                 Astrid visited him again after a few hours to bring Loki his breakfast.
                “Good morning, lovely,” he said as she sat down next to him holding a plate stacked high with food.
                She laughed pleasantly and leaned down to kiss his forehead. A tiny chill spread from the base of his skull.
                “Nice try, Silvertongue,” she retorted. She offered him a piece of buttery toast and held it for him to take a bite instead of leaving him to his own devices as usual. She unchained his wrists from the bed although as always they remained locked to each other.
                Loki sat upright and moved closer to Astrid. His naked body was warm against her. He hid his face in her mane of brown hair.
                “I need you,” he breathed, his lips brushing against her soft neck. “Let me hold you, Astrid. Just once. That’s all I want, to be close to you. Is that so much to ask? Won’t you indulge the simple wish of a beaten god?”
                Astrid buried her fingers in his black hair and kissed him roughly on the mouth.
                 “Soon, Loki,” she whispered. She left the food for him when she exited the room. He finished it greedily as his mind raced.
                 Astrid returned early that evening to ravish him again. This time her hair was perfectly straight and glossy and dramatic dark makeup framed her pale blue eyes. The effect was striking and completely different from the understated beauty he was accustomed to.
                 “I’m going to work,” she explained as she fastened his wrist cuffs to the bed, shed her clothing and lay down next to him, the length of her body pressed against his side. “But I want this before I go.”
                 She kissed Loki forcefully for what seemed like several minutes before she mounted him. Chills rocketed up and down his spine. She rode him as she had earlier, grinding hard, her hands roving, palms pressed against his chest or behind the small of his back, pulling him even closer to her, wanting more. He would have killed to take her by the hips and use her as she now used him.
                 “You’re incredible,” he panted. “Please, let me go. There’s so much I want to do to you.”
                She gave him a sly smile.
                “I have no doubt. But not now.”
                She finished him with her hands, making him come all over his own chest and stomach. She left without cleaning him up. Hours slipped by until the next time she came to his room.
                The following day she took him for his bath. He felt so filthy he barely resisted. She was overwhelmed with craving as she scrubbed the dry and peeling semen from his chest. She prodded him to his feet, wrapped a towel roughly around him and dragged him back to his room. Cold and confused, he waited passively as she secured his wrists to the bed frame. She lay face up on top of him, her back to his chest. She reached in between her legs and teased him with one hand, using the other to touch herself at t he same time. He pressed his face against her neck kissing her and nipping at her shoulder. His damp body warmed up quickly between the bed and Astrid’s warm skin. Soon he was fully hard and she pressed him into her. She rocked her hips against him almost lazily, teasing him to demand more. In that position and with his lower body unshackled he found he could thrust into her.   He did, harder and harder, venting his frustration and rage. Astrid partially encircled his shaft with her thumb and forefinger just outside her body, feeling him slip through her fingers as he pounded her. The sensation was intoxicating to both of them. Astrid lifted one arm over her head and wove her fingers through Loki’s hair, cradling the back of his head. Buried deep in his mind under layers of exertion, pleasure, and anger, a small voice of doubt echoed. She seemed to enjoy this so much. No, not this: him. She seemed to enjoy him. He suppressed it for the time being. He needed to work on her so he could free himself. Everything else was irrelevant.
                “Why do you do this to me?” He growled breathlessly into Astrid’s ear. The weeks (months?) of inactivity had taken a toll on his human body, and his muscles screamed in agony but he refused to stop. “Weren’t you put here to guard a fallen king of Asgard, not to mercilessly rape a son of Odin? Have I not suffered enough?” he hissed between ragged breaths.
                  “You’ve always been free to stop me, Loki,” Astrid replied. “When I’m finished with you, I demand to know how you can say you are the one who suffered compared to everyone you hurt. All of Asgard would agree this is not punishment enough for your crimes.”
                 “You… hateful whore!” he choked, his face contorted with effort and anger. He fucked her violently causing them to orgasm simultaneously. It wasn’t what he had intended but he was too tired and hurt to care. He tilted his hips, tipping her off to the side.
                “Get out.”
               Astrid was so shocked by the venom in his tone that she did as he commanded, backing awkwardly out of the room even as Loki’s viscous liquid leaked out of her and slid down her inner thigh.
                Alone in his room, Loki shook with silent, wordless fury. He thrashed and railed against the cold shackles around his wrists. Blood oozed from cuts where metal had penetrated his skin. He exhausted himself and lay panting on the bed, arms stretched over his head. Slow trails of blood trickled from his wrists, soaking a drop at a time into the sheets. Tears welled in his eyes but he blinked them away. How dare she, just like all the others, when she knew nothing!
               Astrid left him alone for several hours until it came time for dinner. She knocked timidly at his door but he didn’t respond. He lay on his side, his face toward the wall, back facing the door. Astrid entered quietly and set his meal, one she knew he particularly liked, on the corner of the mattress.
             “Loki?”
             “Fuck you.”
              She left silently. He refused to speak to her all the following day. The morning of the day after, she slipped quietly into his room. He appeared to be asleep. She gathered her long hair up so as to not tickle him awake, bent and kissed him delicately on the cheek.
               “I’m sorry,” she breathed and quickly left the room.
                 Loki frowned, eyes still lidded in feigned sleep.
                 Later that same day Astrid opened his door a crack.
                 “Loki?”
                  “What do you want?”
                  “Just to talk to you,” she said as she entered. She carried a large bowl of warm water and a hand towel.
                  “There’s nothing to talk about.”
                  “Then just let me clean your arms up. You’ve hurt yourself.” She sat next to him on the bed, the bowl of water in her lap.
                 “I’m fine.”
                  “I’m sure you are. I’m just going to look. I’m going to undo your hands, Loki. Stay still. I don’t want to fight with you.”
                  He didn’t respond. Astrid cautiously unlocked his manacles, keeping a watchful eye on him in case he tried to overpower her.
                  “Oh, Loki!” she sighed when she looked back at his wrists. The cuffs had concealed most of the cuts and dried blood. His injuries weren’t serious, but they were worse than she thought they would be. He flinched when she started dabbing at them with the wet towel.
                 “I’m sorry, I know this must hurt.”
                 “I’m fine,” he insisted.
                 “Can you… Tell me about yourself?” Astrid asked hesitantly. “About your life? What’s happened to you?”
                “Why, so you can make me into a monster? I’m already a nightmare, a story parents tell to frighten their children. What will you add to that? There’s no point.” There was pain in his brilliant green eyes as he met her gaze.
               “I don’t understand what you mean. No, I just… I want to know. All I know is what Asgard says about you. History is written by the winners. What don’t they tell us?”
                For a moment he lay silent, watching Astrid’s hands as she bathed his lacerations.
               “I don’t suppose it will hurt to tell you. It’s not like we’ll ever be back in Asgard.”
               “So for all I know everything you’re about to tell me could be a lie,” Astrid said with a small smile, a timid attempt at humor.
               “Some truths are stranger than anything even I could dream of,” Loki replied. “I will tell you the truth, if only so that I’m not the only one who knows it.”
              Loki told Astrid everything starting from his early memories as Thor’s brother, living in the shadow of the favorite son. He told her about engineering Thor’s exile to cool his temper and delay his rule until he was less hot-headed. She was as shocked as he was to learn the truth about his parentage. He told her of his machinations to bring the Frost Giant king, his own biological father in the palace of Asgard to kill him, thereby solving three problems at once: defeating the giants, saving his adoptive father’s life, and cementing his role as the wise and good son. He explained that the throne was not his goal. He accepted the responsibility but all he ever wanted was equality in his adoptive parents’ eyes. He told her of his time in the void that the humans called the tesseract, and his struggle to break through into the physical plane again. The longing to simply exist was horrifying. He related his dealings with the Other and the Chitauri as means to bring peace to Midgard through his own benevolent rule, and how he was struck down by a team including his own brother, booted back to Asgard as a villain, and sentenced to life imprisonment for war crimes. His voice was bitter but not remorseful or sad. Those were emotions he had found no use for.
                Engrossed in the story, Astrid found that she had finished tending Loki’s wounds and his fingers rested in her relaxed palm. She quickly moved her hand.
                “Loki, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
                 He rolled over, turning his back to her.
                “I don’t want your pity.”
                “I don’t pity you. I want you to succeed, to be understood. You are brilliant and talented, and you deserve better than this. Hel, Thor owes everything he’s become to you. Wait here.” Astrid got up to leave.
                “Aren’t you forgetting to lock me up? I’m a dangerous madman, you know. I think I remember the term ‘bag of cats’ being thrown around at one point,” he said dryly.
                 “Oh, damn it Loki, come here,” she said, lunging back to pull him out of bed by his hand. He winced and she apologized. He followed her, hardly believing he was allowed to walk free of his fetters. Astrid dragged him into her own bedroom, just across the hall from his, a door he had never seen opened. It was the same size as his room, maybe smaller even, but full of massive wooden furniture. She had a huge carved poster bed, a tall armoire, and an oversized oriental fan on one wall. An antique record player graced a nightstand.
               “The other half lives pretty well, I see,” Loki muttered sourly.
               “It’s yours now, if you want it,” Astrid said as she rummaged through her closet while Loki sat on the bed, suddenly self-conscious of his naked body. Outside the microcosm of his prison room, he was ashamed. Astrid started pulling hangers from the closet, piling men’s clothing up on the bed. She produced dress shirts, suits, jeans, and anything else she could find that wasn’t hers.
               “What are all these things?” Loki asked.
              “They equipped the house for a male or female warden. I hope some of these fit you.”
              Loki started to reach for the top pair of pants on the stack.
              “Wait! Close your eyes.”
              Loki’s arm halted in midair and he raised an eyebrow, but did as she requested. His hand fell limply on top of the pile of clothing. He heard rustling and Astrid moving around, and then she was leaning against his side.
             “Open.”
             She was holding out a hanger for him to examine. It took him a moment to believe it. There in front of him was his green and gold Asgardian armor. The horned helmet she had set carefully beside him on the bed.
             “How did you get this?”
             “I… liberated it. I wasn’t sure if it might be useful down the road. And it’s handsome,” she added. “You’ll want to wear something less conspicuous though, so pick something out of those things. I’ll put yours back in the closet.”
             She started to turn away but Loki gripped her arm. He turned her back to him and kissed her. He took the armor from her and dropped it to the floor with a thud of leather and metal.
            “It can wait,” he said as he held her close. He lifted her onto the bed and laid her back so that he was crouching over her, already undressing her.
               Loki took her slowly and tenderly. They held each other tight and kissed so intensely that they had to remember to breathe. It seemed like hours had passed when they finished, breathless and drenched in sweat. Loki wrapped his arms around Astrid from behind and laid his head on the silky spread of her hair.
              “Loki?” Astrid turned her head slightly as if she meant to look at him.
              “Hm.”
              “Please don’t leave. I wouldn’t blame you if you did and I won’t stop you. But please don’t. I…. like having you here.”
              Loki started to formulate words to tell Astrid that everything complimentary he had said to her up until the last few minutes had been a string of lies intended to get her to release him from his chains so he could break out of the house. He stopped. He gave her a small squeeze instead.
             “I’m not going anywhere.”

***
Part 2/sequel will be forthcoming and much less happy-endy.
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Silver In Chains