WHO: AU!Loki & Darcy WHAT: AU!Loki becomes the god of domestic violence (part one!) WHERE: Darcy's apartment! WHEN: This morning! RATING: Highish? AU!Loki is creepy and violentish. STATUS: Complete; g'doc!log!
Loki did not often dream. He did not often allow himself to do so, sleeping as rarely and as lightly as possible. There were too many things he had no desire to dream about, too much to do to allow himself to be bogged down in pointless memory, or fictional wishes that would never become reality. He had all of Asgard to run - and the other Nine Realms besides, coming to him with their problems and trivial disputes that needed settling.
What little spare time he had was spent reading and studying. One of the benefits of being King was that there was no one to restrict his access to any of the knowledge the kingdom contained. All of the ancient, dangerous magical books kept locked away were at his disposal - many of them a great deal different from the Asgard in his own world. Whatever he wished to learn, no one was able to tell him no. No one could tell him to sleep, either - save, perhaps, Needy, if she so chose, but the chances that he would listen were so low, he doubted she ever expected anything but a refusal, anymore. He wasn’t sure why she kept trying.
The point was, Loki did not dream much. When he did, his dreams were intensely vivid, often painfully so, whether the dreams itself was ‘good’ or ‘bad’ notwithstanding.
Darcy was often prominently featured in his dreams. Her presence there only served to make her absence in the waking world more painful, as if she had died all over again. It mattered very little how much time had passed - it would always be something of a raw, torn-open wound, and any little reminder of that absence, that wound, felt like it was being created all over again.
The dreams weren’t always memories. Sometimes, it was something new: a golden afternoon on a Midgardian beach; a long starry evening they had never shared...
...a lazy morning waking up with her hair in his face and her arm thrown across his chest, warmth bleeding into him through her skin, her breathing still slow and heavy with sleep.
After many, many years of these dreams, he was usually quite good at waking up from them before he progressed too far, before he got more than a glimpse of a once-was or could-have-been. All it really took was breaking the moment; telling himself that he was aware he was dreaming, and choosing to wake up.
Now, he sat up, displacing the sleeping (dream, illusion, trick) mortal girl. She started to stir (not real; she wasn’t real, and she never would be again), and he focused intently on trying to wake up. It didn’t seem to be working like it was supposed to.
-
Darcy didn’t think about the future. If someone wanted evidence of this all they needed to do was look at her schooling, she’d just barely even declared her polisci major. She didn’t think too far ahead, she did what felt right in her gut, she did what she felt like doing, and she very seldom looked back on that. It definitely wasn’t that she wasn’t good at committing. She maybe just had some issues making up her mind sometimes? Or maybe it wasn’t even that. Who knew? Darcy knew that when she wanted things she wanted after them, though. Like with Loki! He was a great example, actually. She had crushed on him, stated such, talked him into starting a relationship with her, and she was happy! She tried not think think about what would be her future with Loki, or she had tried not to think ahead on that, anyway. Planning too far ahead was sometimes hard for her. She liked what she had in the moment, it was so much easier to focus on that.
The alternate Loki....the one that had been offended by the idea of being involved with her had pointed out the fact that she was mortal. He had pointed out that she would die on him. He’d pointed out that there was no way that they could be together. Of course, he had done it in such a dickheaded way that Darcy wouldn’t have listened for anything, but that didn’t mean that she didn’t still have it somewhere in the back of her mind. She did her best not to dwell. That was her way of doing things.
Lately she’d been happy, though. Needy was back. Things were going well despite the whole....y’know evil guys thing. She’d settled into Kansas pretty well! She had a job and she felt good about things, actually. Or most of the time she did. She had a great boyfriend at the very least. Okay, maybe he was a little bit overprotective, but Darcy found it kind of endearing at times, actually, which was probably pretty surprising considering the way she talked to him when he had those moments.
At the moment, the quirky brunette was dead asleep. Her glasses were safely closed up and sitting on the nightstand and she didn’t even know that she’d thrown an arm over Loki in her sleep. She had most definitely started off on her own side. Generally she never wound up staying there. She was comfortable. She probably would have slept...much longer if it weren’t for the fact that she were startled by the person she had been sleeping partially on moving so suddenly. Darcy groaned and turned so that she was on her back, bringing a hand up to her eyes, rubbing. “Why’d you move?” She pouted, letting it be pretty obvious. Though, there were still a good amount of cobwebs in her mind because she wasn’t completely awake yet. If Loki was moving that way, though, it definitely meant everything wasn’t a-okay, so she wasn’t just going to go back to bed. She couldn’t.
“What’s wrong?” Darcy finally let her arms drop, one arm over her stomach and the other moving to reach for her glasses, opening them carefully before putting them onto her face. After she had her glasses on she dropped her arm above her head, looking at him, more than a little bit confused. “What are you doing?”
-
The dream was so accurate in the details - they all were, of course, his memory only altered something when it would be most effective at creating nightmares, but his subconscious mind knew that in this case, what would be most effective was pure accuracy. Her voice was exactly as he remembered it, that subtle tone in it that let him know if he were to look over, she would be pouting. He didn’t look over, forcing his thoughts to focus on waking up from this pointless dream, on this isn’t real, do not be a fool, she could not possibly be real...
>“What’s wrong?”
A somewhat bitter laugh tumbled from him, unbidden. “Everything,” he responded, his voice wry and cold, because the alternative was broken and panicked, and that would not suffice at all. “I believe it would be quite difficult to find anything that is right, at present.”
Loki should not have spoken to her, he knew that - once he spoke to her as though she were not a dream, it would be harder to separate the dream from reality. He would be stuck in this nonsense until the dream had run its course, and that was not something he could afford to do.
Her movements were familiar, as she reached over and picked up her glasses, putting them on and dropping back to just watch him... he could see her out of the corner of his eye, couldn’t quite bring himself to look at her directly (wanted to, because this was the only way he would be able to see her; didn’t want to, because the memories were already far too much, without any additional stimulus to bring them to the front). She was still beautiful, whole. She was not yet withering away before his eyes.
He could be grateful for that, at least.
>“What are you doing?”
“I am attempting to wake up,” he responded, again in a cold tone, brisk and formal. “I do not have time for this nonsense.” The words were supported by movement as he threw the covers off himself and stood, taking a few steps away, putting distance between them and trying to break the illusion he’d put his own mind under. He felt no different, moving, than he did sitting in the bed - there wasn’t even the slightest sign that he was going to awaken, that all of this was going to collapse around him and leave him alone in his chambers, where he belonged.
What was this, then, if not a dream?
-
Darcy’s mind was just a tad slow in waking completely up; she was pretty positive that that was because she had been sleeping so soundly before the abrupt wake-up call. Obviously something was wrong if he had gotten up so quickly from a cuddly and sound sleep. Or, rather, Darcy assumed that he had been cuddly and sleeping before he had woken up, though. They had known one another long enough that Darcy knew this kind of behavior...it was a little odd, honestly. This was...so much more formal than Loki had been in a while. She’d gotten used to how he had grown more comfortable with her. He had started out formal and had warmed up, which Darcy was pretty happy about. She wasn’t the most formal person in the world. He had known that when they started dating and he had adjusted to it the longer that they had known one another. So, this was like....several steps backward. Not only that, but nothing had been wrong the previous night that Darcy had known. Or, rather, she hadn’t picked up on anything. He wouldn’t have hidden something only to freak out in the morning. Or Darcy didn’t think that he would.
The young woman furrowed her brows at his words. Everything wasn’t wrong, was it? Nothing was that bad.... things had been pretty usual for Kansas. Not everything was wrong.... So, yeah, that triggered some worry in the young woman. She didn’t even give a second thought about sitting up, the blankets falling down to her hips, the blankets still over her legs. The air felt a little bit cool, even though she was wearing a baggy t-shirt; being out from under the blankets was just definitely cooler than being wrapped up in the warmth. “What do you mean nothing is right? You seemed fine last night?” Darcy asked, reaching to put her hand on his back. She didn’t understand what was going on, but she definitely wanted to. This was weird and she was a bit worried; she was nowhere near selfish in this relationship, she worried about him more often than he probably realized.
Why was he trying to wake up? Did he not realize that he was awake? Why did he think that he was dreaming? What did he not have time for? There were so many questions that were running through Darcy’s mind because of the strange things that he was saying, along with the behavior. The sudden standing definitely caught her off guard. She kicked the covers off, her legs mostly bare from the shorts and her feet bare too, Darcy couldn’t help but follow him, getting out of bed. The cold from the floor seeped into the soles of her feet and Darcy couldn’t help but cross her arms close to her body, shivering lightly as she got used to the temperature of the room. She didn’t even hesitate in closing the distance that he had put between them, stepping up just behind him. She didn’t hesitate in wrapping her arms around his middle, in a hug, and rested her cheek against his shoulder blade.
“Dorbs, you are awake.... why do you think that you’re asleep?” Darcy asked, concern coloring her tone completely. She had more than a bit of a reason to be concerned. Hopefully, he’d tell her what the hell was going on with him.
-
>“What do you mean nothing is right? You seemed fine last night?”
Last night - as if she were genuinely confused, voice hitting all the right tones, movements just-so, even the way her hair fell across her shoulders was exact, pulled straight from his memory, pasted into place here in this room that looked exactly like her apartment in Lawrence, so many years ago. He caught himself wishing it were real - wishing that he had somehow fallen back in time, earned extra days here, now... that ‘last night’ was real, that ‘last night’ everything truly had been ‘fine’... and quickly crushed such thoughts, because thinking that way was not conducive to remedying this problem. Thinking that way would only make his harder.
Loki froze at the touch, may as well have turned to stone in her arms. This was not good, she was not disappearing, and worse - whatever madness he’d dreamed up, it was taking very little to get to him, to break past his defenses and cut out what little was left of his heart. He was not prepared to allow that to happen. He had made it this long; he was not going to lose everything to this foolishness.
>“Dorbs, you are awake.... why do you think that you’re asleep?”
“Do not call me that,” he countered, tugging out of her grasp abruptly, his strength easily overcoming hers. After some distance had been put between them, he spun to regard her coldly, practically glaring at her. Whatever was happening, it seemed she was the source of it. Perhaps someone had put a spell on him, and he’d somehow missed it. He eyed her for a moment. Perhaps she was the one enchanting him, cloaking her real image in this form and manipulating him. Of all the shapes available, it was this that was used... of course it was. Anything else likely would not have worked.
He closed the space between them, then, quickly - aggressively - nothing in his posture friendly in any way. He drew himself up to his full height so he practically loomed over her, backing her towards the nearest wall. “I suggest you drop this image immediately,” he hissed, then, leaning in, close, too close for the violent spark in his eyes, too close for the ice in his voice. “I know this is not real... I will tear you apart piece by piece if that is what it takes for you to release me.” It would be difficult, tearing someone wearing Darcy’s form to shreds, but it would not be impossible. His rage at being deceived would carry him through it, and he knew sooner or later the image would drop, when the spell-caster’s pain became too much to keep concentration - and then it would all be fine.
-
Something was definitely off. Darcy could feel it, could tell it. She didn’t know what it was, but at least she was aware. The way he stiffened when she hugged him. That hadn’t been something that he did to her, not anymore. Even back when they’d been at the beginning he had never been cold, merely formal. He had wanted to ‘court her’. He was proper and he had a different set of manners than her and that had been all cool. This was totally different, though. This wasn’t him being bashful or having manners, this was him being weird. This wasn’t quite the Loki she knew; she had to wonder if something was going on that she had missed out on. If there were some notice on the comms about strange behavior in your loved ones. She’d have to check later, but at the moment, her focus was on him.
The second he spoke she fought back another chill; she was surprised by the way he moved so quickly away from her again. She couldn’t help but blink owlishly, “I always call you that...” She pointed out in a hesitate voice, unsure of why the nickname would offend him so much after all this time. That was when things took a turn for scary and not just worrying. Darcy couldn’t help but step backward, quickly, not liking the way that he was coming at her like that. What the hell was he doing? Loki had never shown aggression toward her, if anything he was a big ‘ol worry wart, this was....a 360 from where he normally was.
Darcy didn’t want to admit it, probably wouldn’t to anyone else automatically, but in this moment she was afraid of her boyfriend, of her Dorbs. There was just something weird going on. Something that wasn’t right.
Darcy shivered as her back met the wall; it was cool against her back, but didn’t feel anywhere near as cold as the gaze that was set on her. To make matters even more intimidating and scary, Darcy had to look up to see the gaze. Loki was taller than her. Her head rested against the wall as she looked at him, wide eyed. Drop the image. “I can’t, this is me...what the hell are you talking about?” She asked, feeling her heart beat a little faster, and then with his next statement the color drained from her face and she felt herself shake a little bit. He was threatening her.... What was going on? Why was this happening? Why was he doing this?
“But it is real? Dorbs you’re really scaring me here.... I’m not holding you here against your will, you can leave the apartment any time that you want to....” The young woman said, her voice was somewhere between it’s usual lofty self and scared. She couldn’t particularly help it.
-
Her fear was obvious, even before her words and tone confirmed it - the faint trembling, the pallor of her skin, the way her breaths were a little faster, a little shallower. Loki smiled - likely not a comforting smile, nothing like she would have seen on his face before. It was confident, predatory - the smile of an animal about to destroy it’s prey rather than anything kind or tender at all - and he reached out to brush a strand of her hair off her cheek, then letting his fingers linger there, on her skin, tracing her features, waiting for the break in the illusion. Fear was something he liked, it was a sign of respect.
In this context, though, her fear made little sense. Illusions wouldn’t fear him - why would they be afraid? Dreams, perhaps, but it was more likely the dream would begin to break down around him, and as far as he could tell that was not the case. If this were someone casting a spell on him, their fear would have broken their illusion down, revealing who was really standing before him in Darcy’s shape...
His smile slipped away, hands falling to his sides, expression now one of frustrated confusion. This was not possible - she could not be real. Given the facts, it made sense, but given reality, and what had happened, he knew it could not be true. Darcy Lewis was dead. So why - how - was she standing in front of him? It had been years - he was not entirely certain how many, time passed differently in Asgard, whatever the universe, but he was sure it had been a very long time. Too long for her to simply come back.
“You,” he hissed, leaning in closer, “-should not exist.”
-
Darcy was beginning to feel pretty certain that she should be extremely worried right now. She was definitely not safe right now. She didn’t feel safe, which was probably.....a pretty bad thing considering the fact that she was in her own apartment. her boyfriend was looking at her kind of like a lion, or maybe a tiger, would look at its prey. He looked kind of like he was ready to rip her apart or something. It definitely wasn’t a comforting feeling either. It was scary and Darcy had never been scared of Loki before. Not even the strange alternate Loki that had somehow gotten dragged to Lawrence, maybe that had been naivete on her part, but she hadn’t wound up dead or hurt in that situation either. She’d been fine. This was so much different. She had the worry, the strange feeling, that he...could and would hurt her. He didn’t seem to understand that she was herself, though. She definitely didn’t understand that. The way he smiled at her like that....it was creepy. The way that he reached to brush her hair back wasn’t the sweet gesture that it usually was. It didn’t feel right in the least. She didn’t move, though. Mostly out of fear. She felt kind of like she couldn’t move. If she did it might make him angry and she wasn’t really sure she wanted to see what would happen then.
Darcy’s mind was slowly catching up with the situation, though. She was putting pieces together now. People had been being switched out for future, stranger versions of themselves. Was this a different...Loki? Was he not the same one that she was in a relationship with? Was this one that was...maybe evil? She couldn’t really rule any of it out, especially not with the way that he was acting, actually.
Was this the Loki that had the kid with Needy? Why did he think she shouldn’t be here? Why was he acting so strangely in concern to her being here. Why was he so shocked? Darcy did take a small amount of comfort when he dropped his hands to his sides. That made her feel a little better, but her back was still pressed to the wall and she was still cornered. What could she say to get through to him? She had absolutely no idea, but....she really cared about Loki, the one that she was with. Obviously, from the kid that they seemed to have in the future meant that they got to continue to be together...at least in one option for the future. It meant that there was love there too, or at least that’s what she thought.
As he leaned in, Darcy swallowed with just a bit of difficulty, shaking her head. “I don’t know...why you think I shouldn’t exist.” She started out, bringing her hands up, slowly, not wanting to make him angry or alarm him, really. Darcy licked her lips a bit nervously. “I’m alive, though. I think the Seal has done this....you’re in 2012 and I’m definitely alive...” She offered, not sure whether that would help in the least, but it was worth a try...
-
Loki backed away as she started to move, stepping out of arm’s reach. It was instinctive more than anything - it would not do to allow a figment of his magic-addled mind win him over, and looking like Darcy... it would be far more likely than he would prefer that she - it - would be successful. The longer he was in this dream, this illusion... the more difficult it would be to adjust again once it was all gone. Darcy Lewis was his weakness, and he was well aware of that. The fact that someone was using her against him made his carefully controlled rage spike up to levels it had not been at in years. He wanted to tear something - anything, everything - to dust, just to make that choked feeling in his chest go away, just to release some of the pressure building inside.
His expression twisted to one of disdain - practically a sneer. If this had been the real Darcy, if this had truly been 2012, it would not have been an expression she’d have been used to at all, one he would not have turned on her in that time and place. But it wasn’t, none of this was real, so it was irrelevant. It was far too convenient, everything she was saying - it was everything she would have said, it was the correct year (the only year this could have happened, the last year he’d had with her)...
He scoffed slightly once she had finished speaking, and turned away, keeping her in sight out of the corner of his eye; he did not trust this dream.
“I see you will not simply admit what you are doing... That’s fine.” Without turning to face her properly, he extended a hand to the side, a rush of anger-fueled power crackling just above his skin, energy gathering - invisible for the most part, except for the occasional bright green and gold sparks, like lightning that wasn’t really electric at all. “I have no problem with convincing you to drop the illusion, either.”
Perhaps years ago, he would have. Something in Darcy’s shape, he would have at least hesitated before he destroyed it. Now, though, it had been so long... he knew this was not her. Why, then, should he be bothered by what it looked like?
Not that he was ready to destroy whatever was hiding beneath this image. Not yet.
The energy surged and then was released, a blast that should have sent any magical or immortal being that could be appearing as Darcy Lewis reeling, or dissipated whatever illusion this was, if he were simply speaking to nothing at all; anything human would have been a great deal more uncomfortable, of course, but Loki was unconcerned with this possibility, because any mortal foolish enough to stand there and try to convince Loki that they were Darcy Lewis, alive and well, years in the past ....well, then a concussive blast of power was the least of their worries.
-
The look that came on his face after he stepped back and away from her.... Darcy was positive she had never seen that look on his face in her life. She didn’t like that look. She didn’t want to see that look on his face. He didn’t look like he was believing her. She didn’t know why. Why didn’t he believe her? He wasn’t even giving her a chance; he wasn’t actually listening. This just made Darcy feel even more nervous about this whole thing. She didn’t like feeling nervous like this. They didn’t feel good that was for sure.
He scoffed at her, even. Somehow she didn’t thing he was teasing her. This just didn’t bode well at all and Darcy’s fight or flight response was kicking in with flight. There was no way that she could get out of here passed him if he wanted to stop her, though. And even worse if she wanted to fight there was little to nothing that she could actually do. She was a mortal, he wasn’t. He could probably kill her without batting an eye if he’d ever wanted to. That was something that Darcy had never thought about before. She had always trusted Loki 100%, this wasn’t Loki, though. As far as she was concerned this was a stranger because she chose to keep with her belief that the guy she cared so much about would never act like this.
“I don’t know what you think I’m doing! I’m not doing anything!” Darcy responded automatically, desperation coloring her voice. She was scared, she didn’t want him to do anything that she’d end up regretting. Yes, she. He’d be fine, she’d be the one that would get hurt if he went off the rails not him. She could tell something was coming. Her eyes widened as she watched him, knowing he was doing magic.
Darcy started to scoot ever so slightly away, half thinking of making a mad dash out of there, but she’d not get anywhere, she knew it. “I’m not doing anything, Dorbs. There isn’t any illusion. I can’t....--” And before she could say anything more he was using that magic at her, another thing her Loki never would have done. Whatever it was, it packed a punch. Darcy went flying, her small form crashing into the wall back first. Her head was the second thing to hit the wall, an audible thud sounding upon impact. Darcy saw stars and after only a moment the pain registered. She wound up in a heap on the floor, her glasses landing somewhere next to her, broken from the impact.
Darcy whimpered a little as she brought her hand up to her head, rubbing her head. It hurt. She was definitely dazed and definitely had nothing to say now. She was afraid, truly afraid. Was he going to hurt her more?
-
Darcy was more right than she knew - seeing her fall had little effect on Loki whatsoever. Perhaps twenty, ten, even five years ago, he would have regretted the action immediately. Perhaps he would not have attacked her at all, shied away from causing pain to even the illusion of the woman he had loved. But now? He was, in more ways than one, ice inside.
His strength was not a lack of feeling, not a lack of pain or regret. His strength was in finding an effective measure to counteract the depth of the wounds he’d been dealt with, and the rage, was easiest to use. It built up until he felt little else, swept him along like a strong wind. It was armor and weapon in one, like almost everything else about him - his sharp words, his magic, his disguises... it had started out coincidence, perhaps - but by now, it was calculated.
Everything was calculated. It had to be. He could afford no more foolish mistakes.
Even if she had been real - if this was, as she said, another Loki’s world, where she was alive and things had not gone so horribly wrong - it would make no difference.
He stepped closer to her fallen form, staring down at her coldly. This was not her doing. If it had been, he was sure her concentration would have been sufficiently interrupted, or her fear strong enough, that it would at least be starting to dissipate, now. But everything remained the same - solid and real under his touch when he bent down to brush his fingers across her cheek lightly, trailing them almost absently down to her chin, then tipping her face up to meet his eyes.
“If you are correct... we will finish this later, my dear.”
He smiled briefly - coldly - straightening to his full height once more...