Light Bringer

Thor/Avengers Fanfiction. Set post Avengers Assemble.

Loki was imprisoned upon his return to Asgaard. Thor stands a daily vigil by his brother’s cage, only to leave heartbroken each evening when the God of Mischief elects to remain silent.
The people of Asgaard cry out for Loki’s punishment and Heimdall tells Odin that the people of Midgaard do the same.
The Allfather seeks the help of Synneva, an Asgaardian who was stranded on Midgaard when the Bifrost was destroyed.

Rated Yellow for safety.

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9. The Un-Owned

Loki knew, even with his first step out of the clearing, that he would return to Synneva. After all, what choice did he have? He could not even be certain which realm it was that he had been banished to; he had seen nothing save for frozen wasteland and forests of trees ravaged by the inhospitable climate. 

There had been no sign of life, so far. That was, unless Loki counted the creature that had hovered on the spit above the campfire. Though, even then, the trickster god had been unable to give the thing a name. 
The trees became sparser around him as Loki wandered and before long, he found himself at the edge of the forest. A grimace found his countenance as he stared out across the anaemic tundra. There was nothing; no discernable landmarks, no buildings. 
He squinted into the cornflower blue horizon in search of any pinpricks of light that would be evidence of civilisation, but to his dismay he found none.
The trickster god stepped backwards, resting a moment in thought, his back against the nearest tree trunk. A bitter ache crept through the leather at his back and paid the cloth beneath it no heed, but Loki barely felt it. He pushed away from the tree and twisted, noting that the trunk was ensconced by the same arctic shroud as the rest of his surroundings. 
Loki’s gaze turned skywards, eyes flitting between the constellations. With a heavy heart he found them too foreign to him.
Finally, he realised where the answers would lie and he resolved to seek them out. 
Not at that moment, however. 
No, he would wait until daybreak - whenever that was - and then he would find his way back to Synneva and demand that she answer him. 
But for now, he would wait. Keep his eyes on the landscape. Watch for movement. Take her certainty from her. Make her panic. Make her suffer. 
Perhaps he should wait longer. Make her search for him. Hide away and convince her she had lost him. Make her believe he had been taken; captured or devoured by whatever it was that called this place home. She would fret, feel guilty, know that the Allfather’s wrath would be the only prize for her complacence. 
A smile of pure spite ghosted across the trickster god’s lips. 
It was true, he was without his magic but, he was not without his pride and he would not submit as easily as he suspected Synneva hoped. 

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Synneva’s eyes flicked upwards as something cast a shadow in front of her. She stood from her kneeling position beside the remains of the campfire and treated the fallen prince’s vague, sun-obscured form with a warm smile. 
“Calmed down a little bit, have we?” She asked, receiving only a wry smile in response. 
“Well, I hope you got some sleep; we’ve a long walk ahead of us.” 
The woman turned her gaze away from Loki and stooped for the blanket she had tossed him the night before. She crammed it into the duffel bag and kicked ice-stricken earth over some particularly resilient embers, before hoisting the bag over her shoulder and striding past Loki with a gesture that suggested he follow. 
Narrowed emerald orbs found the back of Synneva’s head. The trickster god made no effort to move and, after a second, Synneva seemed to notice he was not following.
She pivoted, eyebrows knitting together in semi-concerned scrutiny. 
“Is anything the matter, Loki?”
The god of mischief folded his arms across his chest, averting his gaze from Synneva.
“As a matter of fact…” He began, affecting nonchalance. “I was just wondering where exactly we were walking to…” 
Synneva crooked a smile and blinked slowly, seemingly deliberating on how to answer. 
In the end, she gave a shrug of her shoulders.
“I know of a village. It’s quite a way away yet, which is why we really must be going if we’re going make it there before night fall.” She finished with a coaxing nod and made to turn her back on Loki again.
“Does not this village have a name?” Loki pressed, dropping his chin to his chest and regarding Synneva from the tops of narrowed green eyes. 
“I’m sure the village does have a name, but I don’t know it.”
Loki’s face twisted into a sneer. 
“How can you be my guide if you do not know where you are going?” The trickster god spat with venom, earning himself raised eyebrows from Synneva.
“I never said that I didn’t know where we were going, I just said I did not know the name of the place.” Her tone was soft and gently chiding. Loki found he did not care for it.
“And how is that?”
He watched as Synneva heaved a sigh and shook her head.
“I have been here before, Loki. I spent a long time here, in fact…and last time I was here, I was fortunate enough to meet some of the inhabitants of this realm. I know where their village is and I know that they will afford us shelter and food. However, they neglected to mention a name for their settlement; I didn‘t think it was imperative that I know at the time so I left it at that.”
Loki felt himself disheartened at Synneva’s answer. He wondered if she was toying with him, deliberately keeping him disorientated by not telling him where they were. 
He tried again, “And which realm is this, exactly?” 
Synneva gave Loki a smile that told him he already knew the answer to his question. It took the fallen prince less than a second to grasp the meaning behind the expression. 
“The realm does not even have a name?”
“Correct.” Synneva granted with a small nod. “It was by accident that we found this place.”
“We?” Loki queried.
“Heimdall and I. It was a small miscalculation with the Bifrost…I believe I was aiming for Niffelheim, if I remember correctly.”
Synneva turned her gaze skywards and Loki was unsure whether this was a gesture in remembrance or whether his guide was checking for the time of day. He did not really care, either way. He was resolved to move not an inch until all his questions had been answered. 
The god of mischief’s brow twisted in curiosity.
“So you were the first Asgaardian to set foot on this world?”
Synneva turned her gaze from the heavens at this question and gave a tentative nod, wondering what it was that Loki was getting at.
“Possibly the first of any race to know of this realm, aside from the inhabitants?”
“Most probably, yes…What is your point, Loki?”
The trickster god’s brow relaxed and he gave a short laugh that suggested that the answer should have been obvious. He savoured Synneva’s bemused expression for a long while, suddenly grateful to her that, for once she had elected to stay out of his head and not search for this conclusion by that means. 
“Then why did you not give it a name?” 
Synneva gave a shake of her head in disappointment. She then heaved a sigh and shifted the weight of her bag slightly on her shoulder. Loki watched as she half-turned away from him.
“Because it is not mine to name.”
With this, Synneva turned her back on the trickster god, fully, and began to walk away from him. 
“Now come on; We’ve a lot of ground to cover. Unless you’d rather stay here, of course.” The guide called back over her shoulder. 
Loki took a breath and stared after the woman. He half-expected her to turn back and wait for him to follow. When she did not, however, the god of mischief surveyed the clearing briefly and found himself falling into step behind Synneva, ashamedly tempted by the promise of shelter.

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