Loki hadn't asked to see you.
But you know him better than he knows himself. You've been his servant, companion, lover for more years than either of you could remember at this point. And yes, you are his to command. But that streak of rebellion you possess drives him mad in more ways than one. That's probably why he's kept you around for so long. You amuse, enrage, and captivate him.
In light of recent events, he needs to see you. He just doesn't know it yet. His imprisonment and the death of his mother has left him hollow, broken. He needs something to fuel his rage, to help him remember his purpose.
He needs you.
Two guards escort you down the corridor towards Loki's cell. It's dark aside from the golden light cast off the see-through cell walls. Beyond them, prisoners scream and bash at their prisons in vain. But not Loki. He stands quietly confident and dressed in simple finery – a green and gold tunic wrapped loosely around his slim frame. His black hair is slicked close to the scalp, allowing the full beauty of his face to be seen. His arms are crossed, his features serene. It never ceases to amaze you how the mere sight of him ignites your arousal. You don't let your lust confuse your senses. You can still see right through his illusion. You always can.
The guards open the way and allow you inside before shutting you off from the hallway. They don't stay. They know why you're here. After all, a man has needs. And this is no mere man; this is a god and the rightful King of Asgard.
Once the guards depart, Loki allows his illusion to shatter. He knows there's no fooling you. His calm and confident stance fades. Now, he sits on the far side of the room, back against the wall. His clothing is torn. Disheveled black hair conceals parts of his pale face. Broken furniture and torn décor surround him. Blood – his blood? – stains the floor and walls. The distinct aura of defeat hangs about him. You can see it in his deflated posture and his averted, red-rimmed gaze.
Loki's eyes stay glued to the floor. He seems completely uninterested in your presence. You carefully make your way towards him, avoiding the debris covering the ground. Standing over him, you wait for him to acknowledge you.
It takes an uncomfortably long time for him to speak, "I didn't send for you." His voice comes in a rasp, as if he had been screaming before you came.
"You need me," you say, defiantly. You detect a slight twinge in his jaw at your words. No one tells Loki what he needs, not even you. You've obviously hit a nerve, but it's not enough to combat all that's happened.
Loki lets your insolence slide. His usual aggression and command is gone. That arrogant air of power that both infuriates and intrigues you is nowhere to be found. This was going to be harder than you thought.
"They've told you Frigga is dead," you say. It wasn't a question; it was bait.
Loki's head snaps up. It's the first real movement he's made since you entered his cell. His black hair falls away from his face. Cold green eyes lock intensely with yours. There's anger in them. Good.
"I know my mother is dead," He hisses.
You've got his attention. Now it's time to bring back the Loki you love; the Loki who will rule Asgard.
"Then allow me to tell you something you don't already know," you say, coolly. What you say next will set him off. Mentally, you prepare yourself.
"Thor isn't sitting around wallowing in his own self-pity."
The speed at which Loki stands shocks you. You force yourself not to step back as he comes to his full height over you. He would never hurt you and he needs your strength now more than ever. Within an instant he has you by the shoulders. He spins around so that your back is pressed firmly against the same wall where he had been sitting moments ago. He's snarling as he stares down at you. His emerald eyes burn with a rage unlike any you've ever seen. Your heart pounds against your chest. This, this is Loki.
