Loki Of Asgard

Trapped

Ayesha's Point of View

I look around, all I can see is that I am in a white room, my wrists handcuffed behind me rather uncomfortably while the rest of my body was tied down to a hospital style bed. How did I even get here? One moment I saw Loki drop down unconscious to his knees and and then I woke up finding myself in the room with only my thoughts to keep me company. My freedom stripped away from me. But I had been here before, vague memories floated in my mind of being put under terrifying conditions as an attempt to drag information out. About what I couldn't say, it's not like I forgot but more like my mind wasn't being allowed to remember. But I couldn't help thinking it was about me and Loki. Oh God. Loki. I hope he's alright. Where is he? Frantic worry ran through me as I tried to get free, but like the rest of me, my magic was too weak. All I could think about was Loki, what hurt the most was not being able to contact him through our mind link. Where ever he is...I just hope he's alive.

I closed my ears, wanting so badly to surrender to the ever growing exhaustion. But no, I had to saty awake, if not for my beneift but for Loki. I would do anything for him. The look on his face as he fell, his eyes wide and filled with the worst kind of shock as his already pale face lost more colour. Why did they do to him? He's my friend, my only friend. The only one I ever trusted to actually be myself around and I would defend him until the breath in my lungs is vanquished. He always says there's some sort of connection between us, and I don't doubt that. Oh God. The tears began to fall faster down my cheeks, afraid, lost, with Loki on my mind the whole time. I pray I get the chance to see his face again. I couldn't even speak, only muffled wordless sounds left me. It was all I could accomplish with the gag tightened around my mouth. Bringing me to silence. Was Loki if still alive being put through the same thing? or worse? I needed him, to make sure he was safe, I wouldn't stop struggling until Loki and I were reunited. Which could have been a long but I didn't care, it didn't bother me in slightest. But I did warn him about coming here, he didn't listen. What was so important about that sceptre anyway? There was a different look that I never saw before in his eyes every time he spoke of it. It was moe than a look of mischeif rather one thirsty for power. But he wouldn't have risked my life to retrieve that which he claims belongs to him would he? What is Loki not telling me? And why do Shield and Hydra not want us to know each other. One thing I knew for certain, Loki would never harm me.

My thoughts were immediately brought to a halt when I saw from the corner of my eye a figure walk silently into the room. I didn't even know anyone had joined me. The way the figure remained quiet as it apprached me made the hairs on my neck stand up. Who was this person? I had hoped it was Loki pulling a not so nice prank on me but even that wish was diminished as I was instead met face to face with a face that had the most creepy misty blue eyes but the rest of of their features were covered up by a surgical mask. Looking down, I noticed the person holding a fluid filled syringe on a tray, lifting it up in my direction. With a horrified expresion, a gasp of fright just leaving my throat, my eyes begged pleadingly to the person in a weak attempt to stop him from doing whatever he had planned. The stranger merely shook their head slowly, unblinking and creepily continued their act of silence. I didn't want to be here at all. Please let this be a dream. Unfortunately for me it wasn't. I began to struggle with greater determination as the needle was brought to my arm and the figure's hand placed on my shoulder to still me. The only thing I could remember next while the needle was painfully being pierced into my skin, drawing me out conciousness was calling out in my mind for him. For Loki.

"Tsk. Tsk. Ayesha. you really know how to dissappoint me." I had been knocked out for who knows how long. Not even a dream arose to keep me entertained in the land of sleep. But at the sound of the familiar, British, posh, throaty voice, my eyes snapped open to see Steve, my adoptive father standing in front of me with folded arms, looking me up and down. Of course I didn't say anything, well how could I with a gag around my mouth?