She had been the only one to truly best him, after all. While her companions fought with steel and brawn alone, she had looked upon him with her flickering mortal life already curling into smoke, and she had seen past the glint of teeth and eye to the shape of his mind beneath.
Because Loki is no madman to crow his adulation for power and glory upon the rooftops. No, better that a thousand blood eagles rise from split rib and flesh to soar into the clouds and sing of his victory instead. Better that SHIELD's lady spider tie the noose about her own neck, and smile in gratitude as she takes the step that will snap her own neck. ]
Natasha. [ says the master smith of lies, nothing more than a white sliver of moonlight in his threadbare tunic, in his fading britches. He comes to her as one who has seen nothing but cage after cage for an age, and his convalescence has not yet broken into health. It cannot, for Loki's sickness is heart-deep.
He is curled now in another of SHIELD's glass cages, looking upon her with a murmur of a smile. A week ago, he had followed the thread connecting master to thrall, and he had thus hidden Barton away. ] He calls for me, did you know? When the fear floods out sanity and memory: he thinks only of how my hand clasped his, how I made him more than mortal alone.
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She had been the only one to truly best him, after all. While her companions fought with steel and brawn alone, she had looked upon him with her flickering mortal life already curling into smoke, and she had seen past the glint of teeth and eye to the shape of his mind beneath.
Because Loki is no madman to crow his adulation for power and glory upon the rooftops. No, better that a thousand blood eagles rise from split rib and flesh to soar into the clouds and sing of his victory instead. Better that SHIELD's lady spider tie the noose about her own neck, and smile in gratitude as she takes the step that will snap her own neck. ]
Natasha. [ says the master smith of lies, nothing more than a white sliver of moonlight in his threadbare tunic, in his fading britches. He comes to her as one who has seen nothing but cage after cage for an age, and his convalescence has not yet broken into health. It cannot, for Loki's sickness is heart-deep.
He is curled now in another of SHIELD's glass cages, looking upon her with a murmur of a smile. A week ago, he had followed the thread connecting master to thrall, and he had thus hidden Barton away. ] He calls for me, did you know? When the fear floods out sanity and memory: he thinks only of how my hand clasped his, how I made him more than mortal alone.