The Mitgard Witch (Discontinued)

Part 4

The Present. Loki's Perspective

I stood in the shower, water that would have been freezing to a human flowing down over my back.

I didn't know if I was crying. I could have been. My arms leaned against the wall, head hung low. I watched my hair drip with water and the dried blood flake off.

The witch. Wether she denied it or not magic flowed through her veins. Not like mother. Not like my wife Sigyn who had died eons ago. It smelled like chemicals when she used it, like a dark sort of echo he gifts witches on asgard kept. Not the same. Different. Wrong.

Gingerly, I lifted a hand to my neck, brushing it where I knew a bruise would form then disappear within a few hours. Thank the stars for my Aesir healing. It had kept my heart beating even after Thanos had snapped my neck. Even when I was in the ice it healed me.

Her magic. It had choked the life out of me. Just like his purple fist. And I could do nothing to stop it.

Anger pulsed through me and I banged my first against the wall, not noticing the stone which gave way, or the tears that slid down my face.

I was powerless. I couldn't do anything. I was a fly caught in the web of these miserable humans.

And I wanted my brother. I wanted to drink with him and forget the past years. Forget what had befallen us, princes without a throne. And together find a place to start over.

But he wasn't here. I was alone.

Again.