The Ant and the Boot

I had wanted her to submit to me, yes, but I hadn't wanted her to want me in the way I did now. Now I wanted her desire, not just her subservience. Why did I want her to want me like this? It was simple: because she had loved her world and those of her world in that way.

I never wanted her to return to them again. I wanted to prove that I had the power to turn her face away from all that she had once loved. Those like my brother, Natasha, that blasted Stark – she would forget them in the wake of her desire for me. She would have eyes for none other, not family, not colleagues, not friends, not heroes, not lovers.

When her eyes opened again they were colored with the blue light of the Tesseract, her tears subsided. She sat up, her face close to mine, eyes wide with wonder. I wiped her cheeks dry, holding her soft face. She didn't flinch away from me anymore.

I smiled, a sigh of exultation escaping between my lips. This time when I pressed my mouth to hers Dove wrapped her arms around me, her warm fingers melting into my hair and soft lips melting into mine.

She was mine at last.



His lips, like everything about him, were cold. As I held him to me, my arms moving around him like a puppets pulled by strings, I realized that I had been unmade. I felt him like it were me and my heart paced like it were me, but the body that moved against his was not mine. It was a shell of what I was, running around wearing my face and my skin, playing out whatever fantasy he had created for me.

He pulled me to my feet, smiling. I could see the satisfaction of victory dancing upon his lips.

“Isn't this not simpler?” he whispered, cupping my face in his hands and touching his lips to mine again.

In my mind I rebelled against him, trying to remember why I fought as he unmade my mind, but even then I could feel a new feeling blossoming in the darkest places of my mind. Under his spell with my previous life crumbled into a dark ocean of thought far, far below, my addiction to Loki's touch took root and began to grow.

“Love me”, he had shouted. Now I knew I would love him, despite my revulsion, as long as he asked me to. Deep within myself I turned my head away from the actions I was sure I would commit, though I knew that as long as I was trapped within my own body the most I could do was watch.



I watched her as she stripped herself free of the S.H.I.E.L.D uniform, my hands brushing lightly the soft ivory skin underneath. I pulled loose her long pale hair, watching as it tumbled free about her shoulders. She pleased me like this, naked and bare of the barbary of her kind. I touched my scepter to the S.H.I.E.L.D uniform and set it alight, watching it as it burned with blue flame.

We had landed some little time before, just after the sun had dipped under the horizon. I only had this night before the battle began – a battle that would be glorious, but brief. I felt assured that I would win this fight, now that I had destroyed what was left of my adversaries. The battle, in my mind, had already been won. Now was the time for celebration before I performed my debt and allowed the Chitauri to ride. Oh, how I loathed formalities.

I trailed my fingers over her spine, cupped her breast, ran over the curves of the body as I explored the body of a mortal. She was warm, soft, and fragile, her body responsive to my touch and her eyes free of the fear that used to plague her. It had been so long since I had allowed myself bed with a woman, so long since my battle and exile. Even before then my list of lovers was short, my qualities always outstripped by those of my brother. I buried my lips into the nape of her neck, tasting the sweetly soft flesh that lay there. As my armor faded away her hands explored my chest, exploring the scars that had been beaten into me throughout my years of battery. I kissed her tenderly then fervently, feeling the desire locked away within my burst free as I held her within my arms. Her movements matched mine, a soft moan escaping between her locked lips.

“Love me,” I whispered against her cheek, fingers tying into her soft, thick hair, “And I will show you the passion of a god.”

“As long as you wish it, I shall obey,” she breathed in reply, her words pressing lightly into my collarbone.

I stole her away, banishing thoughts of her previous life: of my brother, of Natasha, of her family, of Stark – all memories faded from her eyes. Her hands, her lips, her eyes, her flesh was only for me. She would be the sweetest of my victories, I knew, and as I lifted her then set her amongst the folds of my bed I knew that she would also be the sweetest celebration.



I enjoyed it. I enjoyed it with a mind that was not my own, a mind swept blank and moved as easily by him as my body was. Soon enough I couldn't tell which was the truth: if he were moving me or if I were moving myself – if I was the one drowning in his body or if it was his influence bending my mind to his will.

I felt cold as he slept next to me, arm draped over my naked waist. I couldn't remember why I hurt anymore. I couldn't remember anything, except that I hurt but I was in love with him. What had he done that had hurt me? Why was I fighting him?

What was my name? As I began to fall asleep even that slipped from my grasp, my soul slipping out of my body in a single breath.