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Utter Darkness	By : Elegant_Mess_Potter Category: Marvel Verse Movies > Thor Views: 3782 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Fandom of Avengers or anything Marvel. I do not own the characters. I make no profit, money, etc. from it. I own nothing.

Chapter List
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He confessed all to the empty space around him, “What I’ve done is unforgivable, but everything, everything, the good, the bad and even the truly heinous acts, have led me here. And she is worth it all.” He shuddered as tears flowed freely. “I want to tell her the truth, I have to tell her the truth; I need to tell her… I… am… Loki.”
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
He looked up when she arrived, his cheeks still streaked with tears and a manic smile marring his face.
It was a good thing she had tied the bolt cutters to her wrist. Her eyebrows shot up and in her shock, she dropped everything. “Oh my god, babe, are you okay, what the hell happened?” She floated over and began wiping the tears from his face with her hands.
“Darcy, Darcy, Darcy,” he whispered her name like a prayer and pushed past her hands to bury his face in the crook of her neck. She held him as he struggled to regain control.
“Hey whatever it is it’s gonna be fine. It’s gonna be alright please it’s gonna be alright. Shh,” she crooned and carded her fingers through his hair. She continued to soothe him until his breathing evened out. “Hey,” she whispered. “I brought the bolt cutters, how about I remove these bonds and then we talk. You can tell me about whatever is bothering you.”
“No, no not yet I need to tell something you before you release me.” His warm breath caressed her skin and her breathing stuttered. He could almost see her pulse jumping in her throat. He took a deep breath, she smelled clean and fresh, he wanted to taste her. He felt so out of control, erratic, he had to tell her, but he was afraid. He was torn between what he knew he should do and what he wanted to do. She shivered slightly and pulled him closer. Her soft skin, so exposed, the creamy column of her neck marred by him, he felt helpless against his baser urges. He kissed along her collarbone, the hollow of her throat, and slowly licked his way up to the same marked place he’d left the night before. He bit down lightly on his mark and she let out a little involuntary moan.
Suddenly she grabbed him by the hair and pulled him level with her. Their kisses were hurried and desperate. She hooked her knees on either side on his hips and ground against him. With one hand, she held fast to the hair at the nape of his neck and with the other, she fought the laces of his tunic. She kissed along his jaw and down his neck to where his shirt lay open to her. The hand that had opened his tunic slid down to pull the tunic free from his trousers. She slid her hand under his tunic and across the firm planes of his abdomen. The tip of her tongue traced lightly across the swirling pattern of scars just below the hollow of his throat and he growled fiercely. “Set me loose, we can talk later.”
She smiled and let go of him. She grabbed the bolt cutters as she floated around him. She quickly cut through the chains linking the top part of the I-frame to the cuffs on his wrists. He groaned as he moved his arms slowly trying to wake up the muscles that had been so long unused. He felt an odd pulse at the base of his spine. It was there and gone so quickly he dismissed it. She cut through the chains that bound his feet to the frame, cast the frame away, and floated around to come face to face with him.
His hand shook as he slowly lifted it to softly caress her cheek. She leaned into his hand and smiled. She looked at the heavy metal cuff on his wrist and sighed, “Those can’t be very comfortable to move around in.” She tugged at the cuffs one by one to remove them and he groaned again as she began rubbing his arms to stimulate circulation. A friend of hers in college had studied physical therapy and Darcy had been the lucky recipient of her trial sessions, and as a result had learned quite a bit about proper massage techniques.
The pulse at the base of his spine returned and was now accompanied by one just below his navel. It was an odd warm sensation and before he could figure out what it was, it stopped. He needed to tell her who he was, a look of concern and mild panic crossed his face. She gently placed her hand on his mouth. “I know whatever is weighing on your mind is really important, maybe even a game changer.” Tears briefly clouded her vision, but she shook her head and cleared her throat so her voice wouldn’t crack. “And I know that you’ve gotta tell me, but please just let me have this, then whatever happens at least I’ll have the memory of this.” He looked as if he might protest, but he finally nodded.
He reached for her, his long arms wrapping around her, one buried in her dark wavy hair and the other spanning her waist. Her hands snaked under his arms and came to rest on his shoulder blades. For a long time, they hung there just holding one another. He felt a peace and wholeness, deeper and more profound than he’d ever felt before. She accepted him, or at least what she knew of him. His greatest fear was that when she found out who he was, she would reject him. He had come to care for her deeply, she was light to his darkness, she was his savior, his anchor. She did not fear him; she stood up to him, and soothed him.
She clutched at him; this wasn’t what she had expected. There had been such heat between them last night, she thought after she released him they would practically be tearing off one another’s clothes. Something had happened, and for the first time since she had removed his stitches she was afraid. This felt like a goodbye, like he was going to break up with her, or like he was dying. She cared about him so much and she felt like she was losing him. Silent tears coursed down her cheek as she held him tighter.
Feeling her tears wet his tunic, he pulled back slightly and lifted her chin. “Why are you crying, min elskede?”
She didn’t answer him, talking would lead to change, something she was pretty certain she didn’t want. She wanted him. She surged forward kissing him deeply, wanting make such a connection with him that he wouldn’t push her away, or leave her. His hand buried in her hair cradled her head and tilted it just so, his other hand slipped under her top, his slightly rough fingertips digging in lightly as he clutched at her hip. She moaned softly, her wandering hands made their way up under his tunic, her fingertips dancing across the pattern of scars on his back.
“I was trying to take this slowly, to make this beautiful for you, but if you keep doing that I don’t know if I’ll be able to control myself,” he growled softly.
She smiled, and followed one ridge all the way down the length of his neck with her tongue. “Maybe I don’t want you to be controlled,” she whispered against his neck, and lightly scratched along a scar on his back.
His hand on her hip tightened, and he wished more than anything for a firm surface, vertical or horizontal, it mattered not. “Are you certain, that’s what you want?”
His hoarse whisper sent chills down her spine, and she nodded, uncertain that her voice would obey her. She took a deep breath, hooked one foot around his waist, and slowly dragged his tunic up and off of him. His breath came in harsh pants. She looked at him in wonder, the scarifications on his face and neck were angular with the exception of the curves on his forehead that reminded her of a crown and all symmetrical, but on his body, the ridges were in an elegant swirling pattern, it was almost lyrical. She ran her hands reverently over the ridges on his chest, “God, you are so beautiful.”
He pulled away and reached for his tunic. “I cannot do this. I am not beautiful; this form before you is monstrous. You have come to enjoy a lie. This is not how I would normally appear, nor if I had the choice how you would ever have seen me.” He sighed heavily, it would be better if she hated him then for her to enjoy him in this form, it felt like a betrayal of his true self. As he pulled on the tunic and turned away from her, he felt a third pulse, now also in his solar plexus, like the first two it came and went quickly. “Go home Darcy. So much has happened in the few hours you were gone and now that I should tell I find that I have no desire to.” He would rather she hate him than to reject him.
Darcy floated around and grabbed the front of his tunic. “Oh hell no, you don’t get to pull this bullshit. I have come here every damn night. Not by choice by the way, it’s not like I can control whether I come or go. I have helped you as much as I can. I thought we were friends, or after last night maybe even something more. You don’t get to shut me out, dammit! If this isn’t the way you normally look, then tell me what you normally look like. Then I promise I’ll imagine you looking like that when we make out. I’ll tell you what though; I don’t give a shit what you look like. I didn’t fall in love with your fucking looks I… I…” her eyes widened. “Holy shit,” she whispered, as her hands flew to her mouth. She flailed and struggled to get as far away from as she could.
He watched as she flailed around. Part of him rejoiced in her accidental revelation, and part of him was furious. He felt so torn. He was healing, he was being renewed, it was glorious, and it hurt like hell. This time when the pulse hit him, it was in his chest as well, he felt it swell within him, it was familiar, and then it was gone. He wanted to take time to think about it, to identify what the pulsing was, but his thought process was so scattered.
She said she loved him…
She knew he had done all those terrible things and yet she loved him? Her reaction to her slip was telling, it was something she may not have even known about herself until she had voiced it aloud. There was no artifice in her words. With one fluid movement, he was in front of her. He placed his hands on her face and forced her to look at him. Her face was deeply flushed and her beautiful blue eyes bright with tears. “You should not love me, you do not even know who I truly am.” He whispered.
She pulled away from him, turning her back to him, and wrapping her arms around herself. “Yeah I know, stupid Darcy. My heart should know better, right? Oh, well guess I screwed up again, story of my stupid fucking life,” she whispered bitterly.
“Min elskede…” he sighed heavily, this night had been so difficult. He shook his head and tried again. “Darcy, look at me.”
She kept her back to him and tried to ignore him. What the hell was wrong with him tonight? He was hot, he was cold, he was yes, he was no, he was up, he was do… well shit, now she was gonna have that song stuck in her head all night.
She felt so turned around, she was crying when she just wanted to slap him. When she finally spoke, her voice was thick from her tears. “Look, I get it. I’ve had this talk before. You like me but you just don’t ‘like me’ like me. Whatever, fine, you’re free now. Maybe that was the whole point of me coming here, maybe now that you’re free, I won’t be around to bother you anymore. But really, don’t worry about it, even if I do come back I’ll make sure not to bother you with my stupid feelings again.”
Suddenly something clicked; she gasped, and turned on him. “You said that this was all because I don’t truly know who you are! Is this all because you’re some kind of immortal alien prince and I’m just a stupid short-lived human nobody?”
Now he was beginning to get angry, “Of all that I’ve told you about myself, everything that I’ve shared with you, that is what you come up with? You can think of no other reason, why I would believe it to be a bad idea for you to fall in love with me?” he hissed.
He felt the pulse again. Now there were five points, the base of his spine, below his navel, his solar plexus, his chest, and now in the base of his throat. Though the pulse was again brief, he knew what it was… it was his magic returning. Had he not been so distracted, he would have identified it far sooner.
She narrowed her eyes at his tone, “What else could there be, your highness?” she said scathingly with a mock bow.
He made an inarticulate noise of frustration. “Woman, you are so blind! I am a disgraced prince. I have no place among my former family and no place in the kingdom of my birth. I am a criminal. I have murdered, I have done horrendous unforgivable things. And I would change nothing,” She gasped. “Everything I have done, every terrible unthinkable act I have committed, everything that I loathe, I would do it all again... I would change nothing… nothing,” he repeated.
He felt the sixth pulse, in the center of his forehead. Whether he wanted to tell her or not, it was only a matter of time. His instinctual magic would return first, his form would revert to his Aesir appearance and she would know him. It was a good thing she recoiled from him now. She did not understand what he meant but it mattered not, she would hate him either way.
Tears coursed down her cheeks as she stared at him. She was angry, frightened, and so confused. How could he loathe all the things he’d done at yet not want to change anything? She shook her head none of it really mattered, “Don’t you see? I don’t care what you’ve done. You may not want to change what you’ve done in the past, but you can still be a better man when you’re released, you don’t have to do those things again. I believe in you, I know you can let it go and choose to be a better person now. You’ve served your time; you’ve done your punishment, over three thousand years of it.”
He began to chuckle darkly, he felt the final pulse, this time it included the top of his head. It was stronger than the others were, lasted longer, was somewhat painful, and made him visibly flinch. Now it was only a matter of a few moments before his skin would begin to shift. “You’re not listening. I should have told you from the beginning and not allowed you to release me. I have struggled the whole length of my imprisonment with a clock placed in my mind. It was there to remind me of every second of my time here. In nearly cost me the remains of my sanity. It was your statement about returning the next night that made me realize the truth. I removed the clock in your absence, but the clock was a farce, another tool of the All-Father to punish me.”
She knew that name should mean something to her, but all she could focus on was the idea that the length of his imprisonment may have been different than either of them had previously believed. She swallowed convulsively, and whispered shakily, “So how long have you truly been here?”
A terrifying vicious smile crawled across his face. “I’m not sure you really want to know the answer to that.” Her eyes glistened with tears, but she nodded anyway. He felt the warmth of his Asgardian appearance begin slowly creeping from his core outwards. She would know him as the villain. Well then, it was an easy enough part to play. His voice dropped to a wicked velvety purr, “Sweet naïve Darcy, thought she could reform the criminal.” He shook his head he could feel the change creeping up his neck now.
“I have been here a mere nine months.”
“No.”
He saw it in her eyes, as his preferred form returned, everything he had told her clicked in to place. For brief moment, he hoped that she would see past all of it, but then he saw her fear. And it angered him.
He spread his arms wide, proud and seemingly unashamed. Arrogance and mockery were his armor and weapons.
“Yes, Darcy.” She shook her head and pulled back, and her retreat only served to infuriate him further. “There is no longer a need for a list. No more guessing games… Say my name.”
She shook her head again.
“Say My Name,” he demanded.
“God of lies,” she whispered.
“SAY MY NAME!” He roared.
“Loki…” and she vanished.

I wanted an old norse term of endearment. According to the "university of google" Vikings rarely used nicknames or petnames, but if they did they were usually derogatory. I did find one article that said on the rare occasion that they did use a sweet nickname it was very significant, it meant the person given the nickname was very important to the one giving it. So all that to say... since I couldn't find a Viking term I used google translate and I went with Norwegian, and...

Min elskede means My Beloved.
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Utter Darkness