Unbroken (Loki x Reader)

Chapter 54 - A Deal's a Deal

"You were foolish, child."

You let out a groan. Your head feels like Thor smacked it with his hammer. Your body aches, and your throat burns. In your mouth you taste bile, and dried flecks of vomit crust the edge of your lip. This isn't like those time Loki had woken up after collapsing. He had always been better. Restored. But not you. No. This is pain. Anguish.

"Where am I?" you ask, struggling to breathe and unable to focus your vision. You're seeing double, and everything is blurry.

"You're safe. For now," says a familiar, seductive female voice. "Although your time is running out, dear."

"You," you hiss in detest.

"Yes, I," the witch responds, amused. Rubbing your eyes, things finally start coming back into focus. She's close, only an arm's length away, sitting in a regally stuffed chair next to the bed she has laid you in.

"How-?" you rasp, ignoring the dry burn in your throat and taking a handful of the silken sheets in confusion.

"I sensed your magic nearby. When you didn't find your way here after the dawn of the third day, well," she says nonchalantly, using her seiðr  to keep a set of runes levitated above her palm in a dark green glow. "Let's say you didn't make it here on your own."

"You brought me here?" you wheeze, pain poking at every rib as each inhale causes your chest to ache.

The witch rolls her eyes as if bored. "It appears the subtle art of nuance is yet out of your reach."

"Why?" you ask, ignoring her taunt and the uncanny ability she has to make you incredibly uncomfortable.

"Pure selfishness," she coos, tossing her long, blonde hair over her shoulder. "Do you have what I seek?"

You let out a sob of pain but nod your head. "H-help me," you whimper. "Please."

"Pay me, and you will have relief," the witch hums, gingerly brushing the strands of sweaty hair from your face in a mockery of maternal care.

"Pocket," you exhale weakly, hand searching for the paper but failing in strength and coordination. So the witch leans in and slides her dainty hand into your pocket, pulling out the rolled up parchment.

Her brow nits in irritation. "I knew you were simple-minded, dear, but this isn't-," her words cut off as she unrolls the paper, and a sickening grin spreads across her face. "Hmm," she hums in an almost appreciating manner. "Perhaps you've learned something from the little Prince after all."

You writhe in bed, letting out another cry as your breathing grows even more labored. You can feel your body failing as each breath grows harder to draw. Between wheezes, you manage to sputter one word.

"Poison."

"Yes, yes, the poison," the witch waves her hand dismissively as she stands from her chair and moves somewhere across the room you cannot see. "Yet this isn't the tablet I asked for."

"No," you cry weakly. "Please-,"

"However," she interrupts, holding up a single, slender hand. "You did bring back that which is most important. And the piece of the tablet I asked for specifically. Technically, you honored your end of our bargain."

The woman rustles around in what you can only imagine is her desk. A moment later she is back at your bedside.

"If I were you, I'd drink this quickly," she says, returning to your side and holding out a vial of shimmering, silver liquid. "I'd say you have only hours left."

Shocked at the realization that you must have laid passed out in the forest for at least a day and a half, you grasp at the vial eagerly. You toss it back and find its contents difficult to swallow. It's sticky, like syrup. The way it covers your throat makes you gag, and you struggle to keep it down. Initially you feel no difference, but in seconds you can suddenly feel each vein sending blood coursing through your veins. Your body feels like it's on fire. A scream tears its way from your throat as in your mind you flash back to needles in your neck and fire in your joints.