A Falling Bluebird

Escape

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Loki went over it in his head multiple times, deliberating and plotting as many eventualities as he could imagine. Should he explain to his cellmates? Having allies during an escape was a good strategy, and it wasn't as if they were so brainwashed they would try to stop him. Probably.

So, with that decided he came to a halt from the usual endless laps of the never-ending corridor. To his left, Loki's two teammates sat, propped up against the worse-for-wear wall. Hon Dör appeared to be sleeping, but it was hard to tell with her ever-present mask, and he was almost certain she could twiddle her thumbs like that whilst asleep. Moth, however, had a hung open mouth and was snoring in that soft, near purr they had. Loki stared for a moment and his neck twinged with sympathy.

"I need to talk to you," He said, and then louder when they refused to wake or, in Hon Dör's case, ignored him. Eventually, Moth twitched their neck out of the broken-looking position it had been in. Finally, some signs of life.

"You're pregnant?" Hon Dör muttered, void of the slurring which normally gave away someone had only recently awoken. Moth straightened slowly, rubbing at their eyes.

Loki rolled his eyes and sat opposite the two, leant back against the wall, allowing his aching legs to rest. "I know a way to escape."

That put an end to her sarcasm. Instead, they were identically shocked - body stiff and, in Moth's case, eyes wide.

"You're joking," Hon Dör replied after a few moments. Then she laughed, forced and too loud. "Funny."

Loki felt his eyebrows attempt to merge with his hairline. "I'm not."

Moth laid a hand gently on Hon Dör's knee and her mouth snapped shut behind her mask, undoubtedly about to inform him of how wrong he was. "You're sure?" They asked.

"Yes," Loki said, expression as trustworthy as he could make it.

"Okay."

Silence as the two processed what he had said. He would have reacted the same way if someone thought they could break out of Asgard's dungeon, so he just sat and waited.

Eventually, Hon Dör spoke again. "You are certain?"

Loki couldn't resist the urge to roll his eyes and the masked woman tensed in response. "Absolutely," He replied.

Both watched him quietly, studying his expression. Not that it would give them anything, but Loki understood the effort. Eventually, Hon Dör's shoulders relaxed and she dipped her head at him in a small nod.

"Do you have a plan?"

Loki smirked. "How low do you think of me to ask that?" He said, but with no force to it.

Moth leant forwards and fixed him with an unshakable stare. "Tell us."

And he did.

It took some explaining, but, thankfully, his cellmates weren't insipid.

When Loki had been launched into the air like an undignified doll earlier that day, he had seen the Valkyrie's ship docked rather haphazardly on a jutting out slab of metal. The same sort as where they had landed when he was brought to this hell-hole.

It had been, from what little was visible, rather close to both the arena and where he guessed the armoury to be. And, since the Scrapper had been on a delivery errand, she would have set down as close to the entrance as possible, meaning that the exit from the tower was very close by. And then his knowledge of purpose-built castles came into use. Servant corridors were made to be discreet and minimise travel time. Therefore, the particular pathway Valkyrie had used must have had an entrance close to, if not in the armoury, which would then lead directly to a (hopefully) unguarded exit.