Soror (Loki's Sister)

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•Chapter Thirty-One•
Mark of Death
(ASGARDIAN PALACE)
REWRITTEN

Within seconds, the blue eyed man had withdrawn the demented stele. My wrist sore as he replaced it in it's cuff. And then, as suddenly as it first happened, I could move again.

I kicked him—the first thing I did—I kicked the blue eyed man in the shin as hard as I could. I didn't have the space to kick him any higher.

"Get the hell away from me!" I snarled, kicking again as he tried to back up. He grunted in pain as my heel connected with his knee. I struggled against my restrains to hit him again but it only resulted in my back hitting the wall painfully. I cried out, tears welling in my eyes—from pain, from frustration.

The man and the creature continued to back out of my cell as I struggled. My wrist were raw and sore by the time the cell door clanked shut. The noise echoed and echoed off the stone walls, mixing with my shouts and Darcy's gasp of air as she—herself—was able to move again. I bared my teeth.

I heard the strange woman shout as the man left.

We were flooded by darkness yet again.

~*~

THIRD PERSON'S P.O.V

Loki clutched his head as a flash of pain rushed through it. A dark, raspy voice followed.

"We have the girl, sacrifice yourself and she will be spared."

Loki's jaw clenched as the voice dissipated, leaving him with a blaring headache. His repressed anger flared and he bared his teeth.  They had been waiting and waiting to get in contact with the Avengers.  He couldn't wait any longer. He coul—

"Brother, what's wrong?" Thor asked, watching his brother warily. His baby blue eyes hardened in concern.

Loki snarled, "the Other threaten to kill Lorien if I don't sacrifice myself."

Thor went quiet.

"Thanos threatens to kill my little sister if I don't present myself as a lamb for the slaughter," Loki growled.

"What are to do?"

Loki's face went emotionless, his eyes dark, "I give him what he wants."

~*~

LORIEN'S P.O.V.

I couldn't hold back my tears anymore. They slipped down my cheek, leaving streaks in my dirty skin.  I was trying my absolute hardest not to shake.

"Lorien."  Darcy called out.

"Yeah," I whimpered.

"What did he put on your wrist."

My gut twisted and my lip trembled, "I don't know."

"Did you see it?  What did it look li—"

"—I don't know, I don't know."  I babbled, losing my fight against my body's urge to tremble along with my lip.  My throat closed up and my heart pounded in my chest.

"Did he use a blyänte?"

I went still. It was the other woman who had spoken.

"Did he use a blyänte?" She repeated herself, voice more urgent this time.

I stammered, "a blieata?"

I heard a sharp sigh from the cell adjacent to mine, "it's pronounced, blie-êt-tay. They're normally black in color and one of the ends glow."

I nodded again despite the darkness, "y-yes."

The woman was quiet, I heard movement from her cell.  A nervous sigh, chains clanking.

"W-what does the mark mean?"  I murmured, fearful of the answer I was going to receive.

The woman inhaled a quick breath, as if preparing herself.

"You've been marked for death, child."