"Oh Loki, how the mighty have fallen…"

Her voice cut through him like a knife as he sat, book in hand against the cell wall. He did not look up from his book until the vision of her silver gown came into his line of sight. "And yet look who has fallen with me," he said with a light smirk.

As her hand stretched down to take the book from him, he let out a little breath. The touch of her skin, the smell of her, of lavender soap and her own unique scent… it was very nearly too much for him. As she took the book from him and extended her hand to help him up, he looked at it briefly.

This was a dream, had to be a dream.

And yet, as he reached for her warm palm, he could not deny the connection between them as she helped him up. For now he would let himself believe the fantasy.

"My Darling, evil girl," he whispered with a grin as he rubbed his thumb over her cheek. "My dark goddess…"

"Have you been a bad boy, My Darling?" she whispered, stepping into him and wrapping her arms about his waist. "Have you been exploring the darker side of your magics?"

He looked down at her with a sardonic smirk. "Perhaps, My Darling. What difference would it make to you though? You've returned to me… Gods at long last you've come back."

He didn't give her time to protest, taking hold of the back of her head and pressing his lips to hers in a searing kiss. He nipped at her lower lip, knowing she would enjoy this just as much as he was.

The high pitched moan that escaped her lips was certainly an indicator that she was enjoying herself. That primal, animalistic instinct that had been coiling deep in his gut sprang forth as he scooped her up in his arms, pressing the fine fabric of her gown into his ruined undershirt.

Blindly, he staggered with her across the room as he made it to the bed in the corner of his cell. He laid her down reverently before slinking up her body and hovering over her. His lips trailed over her jaw, down her throat and back again. Then he made it to her lips again he plunged his tongue between her them with a guttural groan.

Her own whimpers met his ears as he ravaged her beautiful skin. His teeth left harsher marks than he would have intended had he been in his right mind. "Anja," he growled.

Then he felt her stiffen, and as he pulled away to look down at her the faintest flash of blue lit her irises. He didn't have it in him to care in that moment, merely taking it as reflection from the bright lights above them. She tilted her head away from him anyway, and he dove back down, trailing the flat of his tongue over her collarbone.

"The guards and other prisoners can see us, Loki," she said softly, turning her head to the side as he began to pull her skirts up. He already ached to be inside her. He'd not seen her in years…

He pulled away from his task, fingers stilling as he paused in slipping her gown completely off. Gently, his long fingers trailed up her waist, over the mound of her breast. Squarely, he planted open mouth kisses long the line of her throat that was formed when she tilted her head to the side. Her body began to writhe beneath him, and a whimper came across her lips as he paused to rest his cheek against hers, mouth close to her ear as he whispered huskily. "Do I look like I give a damn?" he asked, leaning in to trail his lips over her cheekbone. "When I get out of here we will be king and queen. Why not give them a show?"

Again, he gave her no time to object. He looked down at her. She was chewing her lower lip, a hand resting to the side of her head as she looked up at him. Blood rushed to another place other than his head as he began to rock his hips against her. His need for her was painful, driving him mad.

"I need you. Now," he said finally, slipping a hand into her undergarments and tearing them off of her. He would make love to her while she was still half dressed. She was plenty wet enough. "Scream for me, Darling," he whispered.

And yet as he finally- finally- found himself sinking into her warmth, a blinding light flashed across him. He did not feel comfort. He was shaken, pulled brutally from the image of his wife spread out beneath him.

"No!" he cried out, but it was too late. Blue eyes overtook her once beautiful silver ones, and he knew the pleasant dream was over.

"Oi! You're scaring the other prisoners with all that talking in your sleep, Laufeyson!"

Loki jolted awake as the last remnants of the dream left him. He opened his eyes, glaring back at the guard who dared wake him.

He had been talking in his sleep again, it would appear. The book in his lap lay open where he had left it when he had dozed off… Before Anja had come to him…

He rolled his eyes at the Asgardian, pointed face scrunching up in an unattractive scowl.

"Why in all the Nine Realms would I care about that?" he asked quickly. "That would be their problem, now would it not? You'd best be careful. My demons cannot reach the creatures trapped behind your glass domain. But those that strut about outside…well…" An evil smirk touched Loki's lips at that and he

The guard seemed a bit flabbergasted at Loki's quick wit, stammering a moment before looking over his shoulder and resuming his rounds. His shoulders were a little straighter though, and Loki let out a slight chuckle at the discomfort he had caused.

Then his thoughts shifted back to his wife, and he let the pit of despair retake him.

The air of the foreign realm stuck thickly in the Sorceress's throat as she glided gracefully through the halls of a grand castle. Her long hair flowed like a waterfall down her back, the front pulled gracefully away from her face and into a small clip at the back of her head.

A gown, black as night, clung to her tall frame as the skirt trailed behind her. The back swooped low, revealing the olive complexion of her back.

And yet, despite the regal appearance she exuded, it was the dark circles under her eyes that told otherwise. Her energy was not her own, nor was her power. The sickly blue tinge to her eyes was a telltale sign that she was very much not in control of herself.

A silver bow was draped across her left shoulder, the quiver of ivory tipped arrows along with it.

She sauntered past the guards that stood to the side of great double doors, standing tall and proud as she made it into the throne room.

"You summoned me, Malekith?"

The figure standing at the window turned slowly, looking back at her with a glint in his eye. His face was a ghastly white, eyes black and soulless.

"It is Lord Malekith to you, Sorceress," he said quietly, lethally. He had his hands behind his back, staring her down harshly.

"I am not beneath you, and you would do well to remember that," she quipped, taking several defiant steps forward. "My Master-"

Malekith scoffed at that, walking right up to the young woman. "Your Master sent you to me, Witch, and I will use you in my strategies however best suits me."

The Sorceress's nostrils flared as she glared up at him, the faintest silver threatening to break through her intense gaze. At that, Malekith's hand shot to her shoulder, forcing her down to her knees.

"Do not forget, Sorceress. It is I who holds your leash right now. Until Lord Thanos calls you back, you shall do my bidding. You are nothing but a pawn in this game, though you think yourself a queen. Do you understand now, Sorceress?"

She looked back into his eyes for a full ten seconds before looking down. "Yes, My Lord," she said quietly.

"Good," Malekith said after a moment. He turned away from her and she rose quickly from the harsh stone of the floor. "My general has your orders. You are to report to him and carry them out without question. They are pertaining to a certain prince of Asgard I am sure you are familiar with. Loki…"

Her jaw clenched as something rang in the back of her mind with a harsh familiarity. For a reason she could not explain, her heart beat a little faster… Odd…

Slowly, she bowed, keeping eye contact with Malekith defiantly before turning on her heal and leaving the room completely.