Tricked // Chapter Six

You awoke, yawning under the furs. Your internal clock waking you up around seven am, you stretch out your arms reaching towards the ceiling. You felt soreness between your thighs, and your face flushes remembering what had occurred the previous evening. You could walk, but your loins ached with every step.

You roll towards the edge of your bed, wincing as you stand up. Yeeep, sitting down is going to hurt. Slipping out of your pajamas you head to throw them into the trunk. You pick through your suitcase eking out the last of your clean professional clothes. Frowning, you dig around a little more. Everything else is wrinkled or sweaty or drenched in some areas with other fluids. You make a face when you realize how much laundry you have to do when you get home. Including all the clothes I didn’t get to before I left.

Dressing yourself in whatever smells clean, and looks decent, you take extra care on your morning routine to look your best. You’d get an earful for not conforming to their expectations, and you wanted this day to go as smoothly as possible.

-

The morning meal consists of bizarrely medieval foods, poached eggs, smoked meats, black breads, and bizarre array of cheeses. Where as all you wanted was actual coffee, and a donut. As you walked in you could have sworn an entire pig was leaving the room again. Where does it all even go after we don't finish-

'Not my problem.' 

You mutter, but whichever agent they choose to stay can figure that out. You made a mental note to slip that in when you congratulate them later. Pushing yourself up from the table, stepping out from the bench you wander back to your room taking a piece of bread back with you. I have to eat. Reminding yourself that no matter how you felt, you needed something to keep you going. You still had forty-five minutes until the harvest. 

You catch a glimpse of Wuthers entering a room about five doors down from you. You pause, and then look around. The hallway is empty, coast’s clear. You pull out the flip phone, staring at it, trying to use whatever mental energy you may have possessed to get your pictures back. Your knuckles grow white with the strain eyelids smashed together, and your brow knit together in concern. Please, please, PLEASE you mouth, begging, to God, the Gods, to Loki? You didn't know anymore and you didn't particularly care. You just wanted to go home and to be alive by this time next week. Eyes flitting open, your mouth now a thin line, you open the phone and go straight to photos. You start flicking through them, and they're blessedly there. The images of the tesseract that had eluded you are all there. Bursting into a smile you kiss the screen, grinning from ear to ear. Thank you. 

In a few seconds you reach the door that you saw Wuthers disappear into, you rap at the door sharply, hoping to get this over with as soon as possible. 

You shift your weight anxiously from foot to foot, listening to the foot falls and bumps going on behind the door. Your arms folded behind your back, the phone still clenched in your hand.

With a click, the door recedes inwards slightly, and Wuthers peers out. 

'Can I help you?'

He asks point blank looking a little more than disgruntled as he eyes you suspiciously. 

Saying nothing you simply wave the small phone in front of his face, flipping it open with a flick of your wrist, exposing the inner screen. 

The door widens and his arm snakes out. He immediately grabs the phone from you, eyes wide, mouth falling open in shock, he mutters to himself, 

'It exists. It's still here.' 

'You're welcome!'

You chime in, quite pleased with yourself and feeling more chipper than you ever had this entire week. Ignoring his awed expression, you can’t help but feel things are finally turning around and headed back to normalcy. Hopefully.

'You may be useful after all.' 

He mutters nearly inaudible, but you interrupt his train of thought venomously,

'I have always been useful. And this was the end of our bargain. Once we get back I am quitting and moving as far away as I possibly can.'

His eyes have yet to leave the phone, the round man seems to be entranced by the images. 

Frustrated you continue, 'Are you even listening? I have nothing, absolutely NOTHING to offer your organization past this point in time. You must release me from this contract that I was forced to be apart of.'

Instead of acknowledging what you've said, he closes the door in your face, taking the phone and the leverage you once held over him. Exhaustion, exasperation, and Anger kick in all at once and you slam into the door with your fists about to scream when you hear a door beginning to creak open twenty feet from you. You spin around not wanting to attract attention, but angry enough to stomp away to your own room.

You were furious, but more so with yourself rather than Wuthers. Why did I think that was a good idea. Just to hand it over to him. Stupid, stupid. STUPID. Slipping into your room, you berate yourself nearly slamming your head into the wall.

Lugging your suitcase out from under the bed, you didn’t remember how it got there, but no matter, you started to scrounge around the room. Looking for missing socks, panties and the like when you here chattering and shuffling feet outside your door.

Guess it’s time. You stand up, brushing off the dust from your knees. Looking around you sigh, I’ll get back to this after. I’m sure we won’t be leaving immediately. Stepping out into the hallway you join the gabbing throng of excited SHIELD agents. Notebook and pen held tightly in your hand. Following the same path you took when you arrived, you stand, once more, in the throne room, relieved that it will be your last.

The King lounges on the throne, gazing at the thrall, until his eyes meet yours, momentarily. A smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth, he relinquishes his gaze, gesturing to one of the guards.

You set about getting to a blank page, pen at the ready as Smith steps foreword. He bends ever so slightly, a halfhearted bow.

‘Odin, it has been an immense pleasure to have been so lavishly attended to whilst staying in your quarters. SHEILD cannot thank you enough for giving us a peek as to what occurs on our neighboring worlds.’

His face forms into a disgusting smile, which convinces everyone but you that he’s being sincere. Glancing around, Sif purses her lips unconvinced as well. With the small talk over, you can feel the tension in the room, as everyone’s breathing slows to a stop.

The All father slowly sits up, gazing at the crowd beneath him. His eyes pausing on every individual, when his eyes flick towards you, you glance away. Embarrassment flooding to your cheeks, you can’t bring yourself to look at him.

‘I have reached a decision on who will remain here, while the rest of you return to Midgard.’

He pauses deliberately letting the whole room wait a few seconds longer, you’re hardly paying attention. Man do I need to clip my toenails when I get back.

‘(f/n)(l/n), will remain here as SHIELD’s envoy.’

Up until that point you had stared at your feet, you slowly raise your head,

‘M-me?'

You manage to stutter as his voice echoes throughout the hall. Your coworkers have all but craned their necks to look at you. The hall was so silent you could hear your pen drop from your hands to the floor. You clutch your notepad to your chest. Completely forgetting why you had brought it.

You hadn't foreseen this in the least – I couldn’t have been the only one he was toying with, could I? You swallow hard, when someone blessedly speaks up. 

'Your majesty, surely you jest. This girl is hardly the champion we seek in order to properly represent SHIELD, the whole of Midgard even.'

It's Sif who looks just as confused as the rest of your coworkers. 

'I must disagree. You see, it is the younger generation that will bring new ideas, and a whole new perspective to the incoming situations. I trust that the guild SHIELD has chosen their members wisely, and would put faith in any member that they brought with them.' 

Mutterings erupt around you and your coworkers shuffle their feet some of them scowling while others were nodding.

No. No this can't be happening.

Your notebook bends against your chest your throat is becoming more and more painful. Your nails dig into your arms, but you don't notice the pain. You can't break your eyes away from the king on his throne. 

‘This is what my demands were at the beginning, and they will be fulfilled if there is to be an alliance between Asgard and Midgaurd.’

Smith, breaks out into a creepily, genuine smile.

‘It is unconventional, and unexpected. But it is agreed. We trust that she will serve amiably.’