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fallintosanity (yopumpkinhead)

Chapter Text

Odin was a fool.

Loki followed Thor along the halls of the palace, surrounded by a phalanx of guards, his chains rattling softly as he walked. Odin was a fool, or possibly deluded by the sentimental belief that Loki needed little more than ceremonial restraints – that he would submit willingly to Asgard’s judgment. Loki was almost grateful for the muzzle, for it hid the smirk he couldn’t quite keep off his lips.

The bindings on Loki’s restraints were almost laughably easy to work around: intended to block access to magic, and in truth he couldn’t sense the various magics around him as he was accustomed to, but nothing stopped him from tapping into the magic of the restraints themselves. He drew it to himself slowly, carefully; even if the honor guard was useless Thor might still notice the shifting flow of power. Might notice that Loki’s shoulders were beginning to tense from the rising pulses of pain the bindings shot into him.

He slowed his pace, falling further behind Thor. He’d stepped away from his brother the moment they’d landed on the broken edge of the Bifrost, shaken off Thor’s hand when he tried to take Loki’s elbow: a show of petty defiance for Heimdall and the guards. And he’d glared at those guards who had stared at their fallen prince-turned-Jotun, letting the void show in his eyes, and now none of them could quite look at him.

They were passing through a hall Loki knew well, although he’d rarely followed it as far as they intended to take him now. And he’d no plans to actually go that far today, either. Fully two steps behind Thor, protected from the guards’ scrutiny by Asgard’s fear of the imperfect, of things they did not understand, (of Jotun), he took a deep breath, lips shaping words of power – still hidden by the muzzle, the more fool Odin – and exhaled.

He stepped to the side, dodging neatly between the pair of guards that brought up the tail of their little procession, and stopped walking. The group continued down the hall, Loki Odinson still trailing in his brother’s shadow, as always, exactly where everyone expected him to be. But Loki leaned against the wall, letting his smirk climb past the muzzle to his eyes. The bindings made the illusion cost more effort than he was used to; he actually had to concentrate to maintain both his double and the veil that hid him from prying eyes.

But he’d been hiding from Heimdall since he was a child, and making illusory puppets to dance in his place for nearly as long. He half-closed his eyes, part of his mind following his double the rest of the long walk to the depths of the palace, to the small cell hidden behind an innocuous door at the very end of the hall. The one time, as a young boy, he had asked Odin about it, the king had scolded him for going places he shouldn’t have, and dodged his questions. Later, he’d found writings in the library that suggested the cell had once been meant to hold Odin himself, long ago when Bor had ruled and Odin had been Asgard’s trick-monger.

It was not as meager as it could have been – let no one say Asgard treated its royal prisoners too harshly. Three short steps down into a stone chamber whose walls were covered with runes of binding and dampening, a cot at the far end and what could generously be called a desk and stool to one side. He walked his double into the cell, had it look around disdainfully. Thor stepped toward him – it – and Loki spun his image away, two quick steps across the cell, all haughty anger and bristles and a flat green glare over the muzzle.

Thor opened his mouth as if to speak, then sighed heavily and closed it again, his shoulders slumping. “If that’s what you wish, brother,” he said quietly, and in a hall halfway across the palace Loki laughed despite the sharp rebuke from the muzzle’s magic. The double didn’t move, though, and after a minute Thor turned away and climbed the steps out of the cell. One more glance over his shoulder at the illusion – really, would he ever learn? – and then the guards slid closed the heavy door.

The seals on the chamber broke his connection to his double immediately, and he imagined it vanishing in a shower of golden sparks behind the door. But it didn’t matter: there was no window in the door, no way to see inside. And no reason for anyone to open the door again until they came to fetch him for his audience – his trial – before Odin. Loki wasn’t sure how long that would be, but he didn’t need very long to do what he planned.

Wrapping his veil more firmly around himself, now that he was no longer distracted by his double, Loki strode down a side hall, following servants’ paths through the palace until he reached the double doors of Odin’s treasury. Another simple illusion showed the guards their prince – the golden prince, the only true prince of Asgard – and they opened the doors without question. Only after the doors had closed again did Loki drop his veil, releasing the magic, and he couldn’t quite stop the sigh of relief as the bright spikes of pain receded. Thanks to Odin’s foolishness or sentimentality, it wasn’t much – he’d suffered far, far worse since he’d fallen through the void – but it was annoying.

Loki strode down the center aisle, barely glancing at the familiar treasures to either side. He had rather hoped that Thor would bring the Chitauri scepter back with them to Asgard, so that he could retrieve it now. But it had disappeared some time between when the mortal woman had attempted to threaten him with it and the ridiculous display in the park (“Look, mortals! We have vanquished your enemy and he is sent to a dark punishment”) and he suspected the humans had claimed it as they had the pieces of the Destroyer.

Never mind, there were other things here, relics of far more interest. At the far end of the hall, in the place of honor once reserved for the Casket of Ancient Winters, the Tesseract glowed blue in the dim room – rushed here by Odin’s private guard, no doubt, after Thor had handed it over at the edge of the Bifrost. The Tesseract to the treasury and the Jotun to the prison: Odin truly had a place for everything.

The other relic of interest was closer at hand, and Loki stopped before it: an ostentatious golden glove studded with ridiculously oversized gems along the knuckles. Another thing Odin had not bothered to tell his sons, but the library had once again answered the questions the king would not. Loki lifted his chained hands to take the Infinity Gauntlet from its pedestal – and then froze, as a scuff of leather on stone betrayed the presence of someone behind him.

He spun, calling a dagger to his hands despite the spike of pain the bindings gave in return, and stopped again. He’d expected to see a stray guard, perhaps, placed there by Odin after the events of last year; or even Odin himself, alerted somehow to Loki’s plans. He didn’t expect to see a woman, short for an Aesir and unarmed, her hands held in front of her as if preparing to cast a spell.

He had no idea where she’d come from. She stood a little ways back along the walkway, nearer to the door; he’d have had to walk directly past her and he was certain he’d been alone. She didn’t look Aesir, either: aside from her height, she had reddish-brown skin and long black hair that picked up the red of the torches lighting the room. Her clothes were nothing strange, red and black leather armor not unlike Loki’s own, or that of many warriors of Asgard, Vanaheim, and Alfheim. But her helm – headgear – headdress? – was strange, two tall soft cones above her temples like horns, or a fox’s ears, the same red as her armor and edged with black and silver bangles.

She looked just as surprised to see him as he felt, and he saw her gaze flick from him to the Gauntlet behind him. Her hands moved, spreading from a defensive posture to a conciliatory one, and she took a few quick steps toward the far end of the room, giving him as wide a berth as the narrow walkway allowed. Loki watched her as she passed him, surprise and annoyance fading to amusement. Another thief in Odin’s treasury, and when would the old man learn?

Still, she was going for the Tesseract and he needed that. Taking the Gauntlet would alert Odin even if nothing else had, so he couldn’t risk a drawn-out fight with her for it. He drew magic from the chains into himself, preparing the illusions he’d need—

And was interrupted again, this time by the sound of shouting from outside the doors. Someone had finally noticed that not one but two thieves had free run of Odin’s treasury.

Loki smashed his fists through the glass case and snatched the Gauntlet off the pedestal, shoving it unceremoniously through his belt, and ran down the walkway toward the Tesseract. Behind him he heard the doors thrown open, the shouts of guards; ahead of him the woman was also running for the Tesseract. He sped up and, thanks to his much longer legs, reached its bier only half a step behind her, but she was fast and she’d already grabbed it—

Wait. She’d grabbed it with her bare hands?

—and then a familiar voice roared Loki’s name and he turned to see Thor storm into the room, practically barreling over the guards unfortunate enough to be in his way, expression betrayed and furious.

Loki’s mind raced: the bindings restricted his power enough that he couldn’t open the path back to the Chitauri realm without the Tesseract’s help, and anyway he didn’t want to think about what the Chitauri would do to him if he returned without it. But the woman had it, and the guards would grab her even if Thor ignored her in favor of Loki—

A brilliant blue wall of light, shaped like a circle and spinning at the edges, appeared in front of him, between Thor and the guards, and Loki and the woman. She was already leaping toward it, and Loki made a choice in an instant. He leapt after her, close enough on her heels that he nearly stepped on her, and the light of the wall, no, not wall, portal, wrapped him in a warmth not unlike the Bifrost.

Half a second of free-fall (falling, endless and alone, lost and unwanted—), then stone under his feet. The portal snapped shut behind them, cutting off Thor’s howl of rage.

Chapter Text

He stumbled on landing, off-balance from the portal and the uneven ground, chains rattling as he stabilized and checked the Gauntlet at his belt. The room was dark, lit only by the glow of the Tesseract, and dank. Damp stone floor, walls and ceilings hidden in shadow. The woman turned to frown at him. The points of her strange headwear were no longer standing up, instead relaxed to either side, and he had the impression of a fox coming down from alarm. She still held the Tesseract in one hand – no, not held exactly; it floated just above her palm – and its eerie blue light cast her eyes in shadow.

“Well,” she said, “either I wrecked your escape plan and you’re good at reckless improvisation, or you want this, too.”

Loki spread his hands, as much as the chains allowed. She could talk at him all she wanted, but as long as he remained muzzled it would be a very one-sided conversation.

She seemed to realize this too, and sighed. “Fine. If I take it off, are you going to breathe fire at me?”

He shook his head. He knew he looked young and, despite the ravages of his time in the void, guileless. He’d used this to his advantage before and it worked again now, because the woman nodded, apparently satisfied with his promise.

She tossed the Tesseract lightly. It rose to hang in midair over their heads, its glow brightening, blue light washing over them both as she came toward him. Casting her dusky skin almost purple, his own pale hands a rich blue—

—blue hands, and he doesn’t need a mirror to know his face is blue, too, covered in ceremonial scars; his eyes red; his blood frozen… Father, what …?

—and his flinch brought her up short.

Control.

He wrapped it around himself like a shield, like his veils. Bowed his head: demure, harmless, and she stepped close enough to reach behind his head for the clasp of the muzzle. Even with the few inches she was careful to leave between them he could feel the warmth of her; she radiated heat like a dwarf just emerged from the heart of a forge. The clasp that would never have budged for him opened readily beneath her fingers, and he was glad when she moved away again, taking the muzzle with her.

He licked his lips, resisted the urge to work the stiffness from his jaw. “Thank you.” His voice was rough, ugly, and he swallowed, trying to ease his throat.

“Well?” she asked. The muzzle had disappeared while he was distracted – probably pocketed in case she thought to bind him again.

“Both statements, I think, are appropriate,” he said. “I needed the Tesseract to open my own path, but I am also sworn to return it to my master.” The word was foul on his tongue: he was Loki of Asgard, who had no master – yet until he regained what he’d lost when Thor cast him into the void, he must play at humility and servitude.

The woman frowned again at his reply, not bemusement this time but confusion. “The Tesser—Oh. You mean the Eliacube.”

His gaze followed hers up to where the cube hung in the air. “I’ve not heard it called that,” he said, and she flicked him a glance. “You handle it lightly,” he added idly.

Her mouth quirked at the corner and she reached a hand up to the cube, not quite touching. “Why shouldn’t I?” she said. “It’s just a toy.”

He stared. “One of the most powerful relics in the Nine Realms, and you call it ‘just a toy’?”

She shrugged, swirled her hand around the floating cube; he watched in wonder as its form shifted seamlessly to a metal-winged butterfly, still blue and glowing but now flitting around their heads as if they were a pair of mismatched flowers. “Well, a teaching tool really, but shaped as a toy to help young Eliatropes develop their power.”

She turned, started walking away into the dark; the butterfly followed and after a moment Loki did too. He had to fight an urge to touch the thing, grab it mid-flight and study it. He’d learned much about the Tesseract – or so he’d thought – during his time with the Chitauri, but nothing like this. He said to her back, “I don’t suppose you’ll mind if I take both the cube and my leave…?”

“You’re welcome to, if you’re able,” she answered.

“You think I can’t?”

She stopped, turning to face him, the Tesseract-butterfly settling on one of the points of her hat, and spread her hands, the same not-quite-mocking gesture he’d used earlier. He studied her for a moment in silence. She’d given no sign of recognizing him as the fallen prince of Asgard, so logically, she almost certainly had no idea who he was or what he could do. The problem was, he knew exactly as much about her. That she was willing to challenge him despite not knowing his power – even if she thought his chains would give her the advantage – said that she was either confident or foolish. And she’d managed to break into Odin’s treasury: not a feat for the foolish, unless they were Jotun and had the aid of Odin’s own son (who was a Jotun himself, after all, what did that say, and Loki clamped down hard on that line of thought).

So he inclined his head, conceding the point, and said, “Then name your price.”

Her turn to study him, now, arms folded across her chest, dark eyes still obscured by shadow. Finally she said, “Do you have a name?”

“My name for the cube?” he asked. “Quite a deal.”

“Hardly,” she shot back. “I’m just curious.”

He smiled – of course it wouldn’t be that easy, but no sense in letting the opportunity slip by – and made a more formal bow. “I am Loki, of Asgard,” just catching himself before saying Odinson.

She returned the bow, graceful enough that it wasn’t an unfamiliar gesture. “I’m Jahanna.” She reached a finger up to her shoulder, and Loki realized with a start that a tiny black nose was poking through the fall of her hair. An ermine, sleek fur the same red as Jahanna’s armor, perched on her shoulder and watching him with suspicious black eyes. “And this is Tikal,” she added.

“A pleasure,” he said, more out of habit than anything. And there was no sense in being rude. “You still haven’t named your price.”

“Because there isn’t one,” she said, half-turning, leading him further along the passageway. He fell into step beside her, slowing his stride to match her shorter one. The floor had taken on a noticeable upward slope, and the air was drying out as they walked. He could feel heat on his skin, not uncomfortable yet after the cool damp of the previous room, but quickly approaching it. Jahanna continued, “The Eliacube is mine by rights, and I will not give it over to anyone.”

“Then I’m afraid I’ll have to take it,” he said lightly. “My master will be quite upset if I return without it.”

She flicked another sideways look at him. “The… Asgardians?”

“Aesir,” he corrected her, “and no—”

—Who is your master now, little frostling? The golden people have abandoned you. Who do you answer to, who will you scream for now?

“—they are not my masters.”

Control.

He breathed in, out, in, forced his fingers away from the chains they tried to clutch, eyes fixed on the darkness beyond the light of the Tesseract. He couldn’t afford to be weak, not now.

Not ever.

Jahanna, fortunately, was also looking ahead rather than at him, and did not appear to have noticed his momentary lapse. Her ermine, though, watched him with beady black eyes, and he only barely resisted the urge to bat it off her shoulder.

Control.

“If not the As- the Aesir,” Jahanna said after a moment, “then who? I’d thought few even knew about the Eliacubes any more.”

“They are called the Chitauri,” he said. He saw little harm in telling her; his name was already associated with the foul outsiders in at least two realms. “Led by an ancient being known as Thanos. They seek the Tesseract—”

“—And that pretty gold glove, no?” she cut in. Her mouth quirked again, not quite a knowing smile.

Loki’s eyes narrowed. He hadn’t thought she’d noticed him take it, occupied as she’d been by her own thievery.

“I’m not familiar with it, but its power is… interesting,” she continued.

“Interesting,” he echoed. “You could say that, yes.”

“You’ve got one relic,” she said. “I’ve got one. Seems fair to me.”

“Not when you factor in the cost of the loss of one,” he said, “and where are you taking me?”

This last as they rounded a sharp turn and the temperature nearly doubled. He could practically feel the moisture drawn from his skin, heat like a dragon’s breath against his face. There was light in this new passage, too, a molten red-gold glow that warred with the Tesseract’s blue light to cast rich purple and green shadows.

“Home,” Jahanna said, and swept an arm toward a fissure in the wall just ahead, from which the heat and light poured like flames.

Loki approached the opening cautiously, wary both of what was beyond and the possibility of a knife in the back. The fissure opened onto a wide space, lit by the same dim red glow; he could see another rock wall in the distance, but nothing of the floor—

—and then he stepped through the fissure, onto a narrow rock ledge, and stared down, far down to where black-crusted lava bubbled lazily at the bottom of the crater. Overhead, a night sky studded with unfamiliar stars; to one side, a sheer rock wall. To the other, the ledge on which he stood rose along the inside wall of the volcano, to another opening not far beneath the lip of the crater.

Jahanna appeared at his elbow, clearly amused by his reaction. “Incredible, isn’t it?” she said, and he pulled his gaze from the molten roil below.

“I’ve not seen anything like it,” he admitted. Oh, he’d traveled to most of the Nine Realms, with Thor and without, but he’d never had much tolerance for the heat, preferring the frozen mountains of Niflheim or the cool rivers in Vanaheim. Knowing what he did now, it was perhaps not such a surprise that he’d avoided places of heat and flame.

Still, he couldn’t deny that the cauldron held a primal energy, awe and fear tugging at the broken edges of his mind. He stayed close to the wall as he followed Jahanna up the ridge to where a door was set deep into the side of the crater, solid black rock carved and painted with pictographs both alien and beautiful. Jahanna placed her hand against one of the carved images, an oversized egg guarded by a stylized dragon, and a blue glow like the Tesseract’s flared beneath her palm. The doors swung open with a deep rumble.

Loki let her enter first, still wary of a trick, a trap, but she seemed unconcerned and after a moment he followed her through. The chamber beyond, at least, was markedly cooler than the volcanic crater, insulated by the heavy doors, and probably by magic too, though he couldn’t sense it past his bindings. He looked around, curious: a single large chamber, lit by warm yellow lamps, with two cloth-draped arches on the far end. Rough walls, ceiling only a few inches above his head, floor smoothed by years of feet and mostly covered by brightly-patterned rugs. Furniture a rather motley assortment of elegant chairs, tables, and couches, some with damage beyond what would be expected for household items, and he wondered idly if it had been looted from some old temple or palace.

The doors thudded closed, shutting out the last of the heat. Jahanna turned to face him, Tesseract flitting past her to alight on the back of an ornate chair. “You probably want those off too,” she said, with a nod toward his manacles.

“I would certainly appreciate it,” he said dryly. “Though I’ll understand if you feel more comfortable leaving me bound.”

She snorted. “They don’t seem to be that much of a hindrance.”

He smiled, aware that it was not a pleasant expression. “If you can see that, the Allfather is an even greater fool than I thought.”

He held out his wrists, and once again fastenings that would have ignored his touch fell open at hers. He let her keep the manacles, too; she clearly knew they wouldn’t work on him, and so was unlikely to try to use them against him. His bracers had protected his flesh from the metal, but his wrists still ached from the bite of magic. A minor irritant, really, compared to the bruises and cracked bones from the humans’ green beast; and nothing at all compared to the Chitauri’s attentions – but it was one more thing, still, and he was grateful when Jahanna motioned him toward one of the chairs.

He sat when she did, sprawling, legs stretched out before him, aware of her gaze tracking the lines of his body. Slim he might be, for an Aesir, pale and strange, but it lent him a kind of fey beauty that could catch a woman’s eye, distract her (as long as Thor wasn’t nearby, or any of the Three). It worked now: when her eyes drifted back to his face, he gave her a smile that wasn’t quite a leer, and was rewarded with a reddening of her cheeks.

Still, she didn’t break his gaze, and he had to give her credit for that. Her ermine Tikal sat on her lap, black eyes watching him warily. With the chains gone and the bindings on his magic with them, he could sense the power in the creature, coiled and half-hidden but strong. A familiar, most likely, and he’d have to take that into account when dealing with her.

He steepled his fingers and regarded her over them. “An impasse,” he said.

“You won’t leave without the Eliacube, and I’m not giving it up,” she agreed.

“You could cast me out.”

“Seems rude.”

“That’s not your reason.”

She smiled then, wide enough that for the first time he noticed she had delicately-pointed fangs, top and bottom both. “No?” she said. “You seem nice enough; it’d be a shame to just throw you away.” Her familiar chittered, and she gave it a bemused glance.

“No,” he said. “You’re interested in the Gauntlet.”

Her expression didn’t change, but something in her eyes hardened. “It is a very interesting power,” she admitted.

“You know what it is,” he said. A guess, but not much of one. “What it’s said to be capable of.”

She tilted her head, foxlike, eyes fixed on the glove still in his belt. On her lap, Tikal the ermine made the same gesture, their synchrony eerie. She said, “I know it’s incomplete.”

It wasn’t what he’d expected her to say; he glanced down at the Gauntlet before he could stop himself – tore his eyes back up to Jahanna, braced for an attack—

—but she hadn’t moved, she wasn’t attacking, why had he thought she was attacking?

You will bring the Gauntlet to me. You will let no harm come to it, allow no attack on its power or integrity, else you will learn what it truly means to feel pain—

Loki’s fists clenched on the arms of the chair, hard enough that the wood creaked. Jahanna and her familiar were both watching him now, unreadable twin dark stares looking into his very soul, void reaching out to grab him, crush him—

A sound like glass cracking, and suddenly he could breathe again. Jahanna risen halfway from her seat, both hands outstretched, a blue glow like the Tesseract’s fading from her palms. She looked worried. He tried for a reassuring smile, but suspected he just looked ill.

“I would ask,” she said, carefully, “if you’re all right, except that you clearly aren’t.”

“I’m fine,” he said, then more softly, “My apologies. The last few days have been… stressful.”

She made a noncommittal noise and sat back down, still moving slowly as if afraid he’d spook. Again. Her familiar was gone from her lap; Loki looked around for it and jumped when it appeared on the arm of his chair. The creature chirruped once, then before he could decide whether it was mocking or concerned, settled in a ball on the seat, not quite touching his leg.

He forced himself to take a deep breath, then another. He’d kept control of himself in the void for a year – yet ever since returning to the Realms his control had been slipping further and further. Escaping the SHIELD base with the Tesseract; on the humans’ jet en route to the flying fortress; with Thor on top of Stark Tower – and now here. What was wrong with him?

“Your wakfu is… torn,” Jahanna said quietly, as if reading his mind.

He jerked his head up, stared at her. “What?”

“Your wakfu, your… your life force, your energy,” she said, motioning toward his body. “I’ve never seen anything like it. Like… someone pulled you apart and then put you back together all wrong.”

He thought about the Chitauri. About Thanos. About falling through the nothingness between realms, and the things he’d seen.

He said, “As I told you. Stressful. And I would thank you to stay out of my head.”

She didn’t answer, and he held her gaze, chin lifted, daring her to continue. Daring her to pity him.

She looked away first.

He let the silence hang for a few moment, driving home the point, then deliberately shifted, settling back into the steepled-fingers pose. “Now. You say the Gauntlet is incomplete?”

Jahanna nodded. “Only one of those gems is real.” She sounded brisk, professional once more.

Loki drew the Gauntlet from his belt and held it up, studying the gems with senses both mundane and magical. She was right: he hadn’t sensed it before, thanks to the bindings on his power, but the only one of the six gems that had more than a token shimmer of power was the red one above one knuckle.

—let no harm come to it, allow no attack on its power or integrity—

Clenching his jaw until it hurt, bright spots dancing before his eyes, but he managed not to panic. Except that perhaps now would be an appropriate time for panic.

The Gauntlet was incomplete.

Thanos would not be pleased.

Chapter Text

“What are you going to do?” Jahanna asked. She was watching him with that tilt-headed intensity, seeming honestly curious about his answer.

Loki smiled, wide and sharp; if Thor were here he’d already be trying to talk Loki down. “Find the rest of the gems, of course,” he said, and when she started to open her mouth, “As to how, well. That’s where you come in, isn’t it?” Her eyebrows went up; he let his smile darken. “You know quite a bit more about the Infinity Gems than you’re admitting. –Oh come now,” not letting her protest, “you can’t lie to a liar.”

He watched her consider it. She hid her emotions well, when she wanted, but he’d had a lifetime of practice reading the nobles of Asgard, and he could see the moment she gave in.

“Fine,” she said. “Yes, I know of them. They were created by my people, long ago.”

“Your people?”

“Eliatropes.”

Eliatropes. She’d said it before, speaking about the Tesseract. Loki racked his brain for any recollection of the word; finally he remembered sitting in bed as a young child, Thor beside him, both of them begging Frigga for a story. Frigga weaving a tale of an ancient civilization, lost before the dawn of time, whose children played with dragons and flew on magic wings, who could step between worlds at will. Loki looking them up later, alone in the library, tracking the ghost-prints of a people descended from dragons, who laid the foundation for what became the Bifrost and were wiped out ten thousand years ago by a mysterious catastrophe.

“I was under the impression,” he said, “that Eliatropes were extinct.”

The corner of her mouth quirked. “Not quite.”

“The last of your kind,” mocking and cold (the only Jotun in Asgard, alone). “You must have some noble goal to perpetuate the species?”

She snorted. Beside him, her ermine startled and twisted its head to glare up at him. “Hardly,” she said. “Repopulation will happen when and where the king decides.”

“I see.” He let the point slide, moved on to the more important one: “And the gems?”

“I don’t know the details,” she said, and it was a lie; he filed it away for the future. “One for each of the Council of Six, so that the Six weren’t crippled when one slept.”

“A king and a council, how very… civilized,” he said. “They are vessels for power, then?”

“More like reserves,” she said. Choosing her words carefully, but that could be from trying to find the right ones as much as trying to conceal something. “They were supposed to be for emergencies only.”

“With power enough to reshape the fabric of the universe.”

She smiled, thin and cool. “There are some who believe Eliatropes have no place in the universe, for that reason.”

“Perhaps,” he said. “For now, though, at least one Eliatrope has a place.” The sharp smile again, though she didn’t know enough to look worried.

“Why should I help you?” she asked. “What does your master want with the gems, anyway?”

“To rule, of course,” he said. “That is what they are for, is it not? –And there is much to rule,” he cut her off, before she could make any too Thor-like protests, “Once Thanos has the universe, he has promised me my own domain, a place where I can rule as the king I am.” Leaning forward, voice lower, intimate. “I am willing to share that with you. This Council of yours… don’t you think they would appreciate a place where the Eliatropes can rebuild? A world of your very own—”

“—ruled by the great King Loki,” she finished.

“Just so.”

“I did mention we have a king already.”

“I’m certain we can come to an agreement. My master’s plans are grand, and there is an entire universe out there from which your Eliatropes can take their pick of homes.”

“Tempting,” she said, but it was flippant; she wasn’t convinced. “And if I refuse? If I don’t want to live under your master? He doesn’t sound like a very nice person.”

“He’s not,” Loki agreed, “and that is why you will help me regardless. Because if you refuse, I will go to him, and I will ask him to make you help.” The void in his eyes, his heart; lessons learned through unimaginable pain. Let her poke around in his mind now; he doubted she’d enjoy what she found.

Tikal the ermine uncoiled from its knot beside his leg, tiny sharp teeth bared, head drawn back, poised to bite. He almost laughed; even with the power afforded by its status as a familiar, such a creature was no threat to him. Jahanna said sharply, “Tikal,” and the beast hissed, low and angry, then streaked away, down to the floor and across the room to climb onto Jahanna’s shoulder.

He waited.

Jahanna watched him, one hand on Tikal’s back. Dark eyes shadowed, studded with starpoints from the blue light of the Tesseract. He could feel her magic: subtle, warm, alive; utterly alien as it brushed against him. Finally, “All right,” Jahanna said.

He smiled again, benevolent, to hide his surprise. He’d expected more of a protest, your master would have to find me first, or perhaps I’ll not help you even if I have to die for it; she was giving in too easily and that meant she almost certainly had another motive. Maybe she thought she could take the gems for herself, maybe she thought she could kill him.

She could try.

He stood up, elegant and lazy, clapping his hands together. “Well then. We should be going. My master expects me back with the Gauntlet, complete or no; it would be a shame to keep him waiting.”

She stood as well, Tikal jumping from her shoulder to the chair she’d vacated. “You need the Eliacube to get there, right?”

“If you please.”

She held out her hand; the still butterfly-shaped Tesseract – Eliacube – flitted over to land on her fingers. Loki stretched out his own hand, feeling the heat of the cube’s power against his palm despite its new shape. He met Jahanna’s eyes over their hands. “Thanos is powerful,” he warned, “and unforgiving. Speak only when spoken to; show only the greatest reverence and veneration.”

She nodded, expression solemn. Loki reached for the Tesseract’s magic, reached through it to the seams of the world, grasped the edges and pulled them apart. Power rushed through him, burning, heavy; then the world ripped shrieking around them. They plunged through the void (falling forever, frozen, lost, please, someone, Father…!), and he steered them across the emptiness to Thanos’s throne.

The Chitauri realm was ugly: a forgotten space between stars, broken pieces of abandoned worlds scrabbled together into a mockery of unity. Thanos kept his throne on one of the larger pieces, with high towers where he could climb to watch over his realm. Loki and Jahanna materialized together at the far end of the rock, and Loki had to take a moment to steady himself, to shove down the fear and the hatred that came roaring back the moment he breathed the sulfur-tainted air. Beside him, Jahanna stared around with wide eyes, the Tesseract on her hand fluttering its wings nervously.

They’d seen him coming. Even as Loki started forward, the Other – the leader of the Chitauri army, Thanos’s mouthpiece and right-hand brute – stepped out from behind a rocky protrusion. “Ah,” he said, and Loki’s stomach turned at the sound of his voice, “you’ve returned. He grows impatient.”

Loki inclined his head. The Other looked past him to Jahanna and Loki said quickly, “She has information critical to the Master’s success.”

He could feel the Other’s gaze on him like claws, like chains; he kept his eyes straight ahead and his expression impassive. The Other chuckled, the sound guttural, as ugly as he was, and turned toward the throne, motioning them to follow. “We will let Him decide,” he said.

Loki followed as commanded, Jahanna close enough behind him that he could feel her body heat, surprisingly comforting in this barren place. Up a steep staircase rough-hewn from the rock, to a plateau where Thanos sat on a black throne. Loki immediately dropped to one knee, fist over his heart; to his relief he heard Jahanna do the same.

“Rise,” the Other said. “Bring the Gauntlet.”

He obeyed, kneeling again at the base of the throne, eyes downcast and the Infinity Gauntlet held up for inspection. Braced for Thanos’s disapproval, he still wasn’t prepared for the howl of rage that ripped through his skull, tore at the broken pieces of his soul; nor for the blow that knocked him sprawling, the Gauntlet skittering away across the stone. Alien words, only barely recognizable as such, ear-shattering phonemes and a voice like the end of the universe roaring fury at him. He didn’t try to defend himself from the kick to the chest – resistance only made Thanos angrier. He felt his ribs break.

Another kick, and Thanos’s voice faded to an angry growl. Leather rustled against stone as he sat back down. Without moving, Loki said, “Master, I know how to find the missing gems.”

A pause. Loki hardly dared breathe. Then the Other said, “Speak.”

Carefully, Loki pushed himself to his knees. Kept his head down, his posture as submissive as he could make it. His chest ached; drawing breath to speak sent sharp pains stabbing through him. “The one I brought with me. She has a… connection to the gems. She has agreed to help me retrieve them. It will not take long.”

Another long pause, and then Thanos spoke again, even this softer tone enough to make Loki’s skin burn, his skull vibrate. A single word. Eliatrope.

“Yes, my lord.” Jahanna, answering so Loki wouldn’t have to.

To his relief, it was the Other who spoke next, over Loki’s bowed head to Jahanna. “You can find the remaining Infinity Gems?”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Has our slave informed you of the punishment, should you fail?”

“Yes, my lord.”

Footsteps, as the Other circled around Loki to where Jahanna still knelt at the far end of the plateau. “Good,” the Other said. “Then this demonstration need not be too detailed.”

Loki closed his eyes, gritted his teeth until his jaw cracked. Behind him he heard Jahanna’s stifled cry of pain, and he couldn’t stop himself from remembering what it had felt like, when the Other had demonstrated for him.

He watched from the corner of his eye as the Other returned, pausing to pick up the Gauntlet where it lay in the dirt. “Bring the Gems,” the Other said. “Do not tarry.”

It was a dismissal. Loki forced himself to his feet, managed to bow without staggering, deep and servile. Backed away from the throne, pausing only to gather Jahanna, not daring to lift his head until they’d descended the steps out of Thanos’s sight. Jahanna was grim, her skin a sickly grey under its tan, her lips pressed together in a thin line. He could see a trickle of blood tracing a line from her ear down the side of her neck.

She reached out a hand, palm out. The Tesseract, perched on her shoulder, flared blue-white, and a round blue portal opened at the base of the steps. They stepped through side by side, leaving the broken, desolate realm behind.

Chapter Text

Only when the portal winked closed, leaving them in Jahanna’s volcanic sanctuary, did Loki dare to sag with relief, lowering himself painfully onto the closest couch and trying not to breathe. High angry chattering erupted nearby and Tikal leapt into Jahanna’s arms, winding around her shoulders, anxious and upset. “Shh,” Jahanna said. “Tikal, I’m fine—Tikal. Really. It’s all right. It’s nothing.”

The beast settled around her neck like a particularly wrathful scarf, head raised to glare at Loki, teeth bared and snarling a low rumbling growl totally incongruous with its small size. Jahanna frowned at it. “Tikal,” she said again, sharper. The beast transferred its stare to her and they locked eyes for a minute before Tikal huffed and disappeared with a faint pop.

Jahanna sighed and sank down onto the couch beside Loki, rubbing the bridge of her nose. “He’s not happy,” she said.

“Really,” Loki said dryly. “Still, I think that went quite well, all things considered.”

She stared at him.

He managed half a smile. She shook her head in return, rolling her eyes, but he could see the slight upturn of her mouth.

A moment more to steady himself, then he said, “I’ll need the Tesseract again. Odin likely has words for my brother over my escape and I do so wish to hear them.”

Hard to believe that barely an hour had passed since he’d been trailing Thor in chains, Odin’s tame Jotun brought to heel. But if his timing was right, the guards would only just be finishing their examination of the treasury and of his cell, and Thor would soon be summoned before the Allfather.

Jahanna frowned. “You should let me look at your ribs, first. When he hit you—”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re hurt.”

“I need to see what Odin has to say.”

“You need healing, you idiot.”

He bit back the retort on his lips. She was right. Refusing healing for the sake of being stubborn was the Thor thing to do, not the smart thing. “Then do it while I scry,” he said.

“Fine. Lie down.”

He did as instructed, lying along the couch as she stood up from it, moving as carefully as he could but still feeling things grate and slide that shouldn’t have. She flicked the Tesseract from her fingers to hover over his chest; it reverted from the butterfly to its normal cube, spinning lazily in place. Loki held his hands to either side of the cube, tapping into its power as he formed the scrying spell in his mind. He was dimly aware of Jahanna kneeling beside him, felt her touch on the Tesseract as well, felt the warm fingers of healing magic trace soothing lines through the pain in his ribs. He pushed those distractions away, focusing hard on his own spell, and was rewarded with a view in his mind’s eye of Thor, standing in the middle of the treasury and looking lost.

He’d linked the spell to Thor because he was not sure whether Odin would summon Thor to the throne room, or whether he would come to the treasury in person; and scrying on Odin himself was risky and far more difficult. It meant several long, dull minutes of watching the golden prince stand around accomplishing not much of anything except being in the way of the guards who scurried around him trying to find traces of what Loki had done. Still, the time was not completely wasted: he discovered that everyone had been so focused on him that they hadn’t properly noticed Jahanna. There was some discussion about “the Chitauri accomplice” glimpsed by a few of the guards, who had opened a portal for Loki’s escape – but the fact that Loki had an Eliatrope on his side was, as yet, unknown.

Finally, a page appeared at Thor’s elbow and murmured something to him. Thor caught the eye of the guard captain and traded nods, then followed the page out of the treasury and through the halls of the palace. The page led him, not to the throne room as Loki had expected, but to one of the smaller private chambers where Odin sometimes received personal friends. A sudden fierce jealousy spiked through Loki (but it was fitting, wasn’t it, that the golden prince should receive such treatment?).

The Odin who sat at the table when Thor entered the room was little like the towering, dignified king Loki remembered: pale and haggard, the lines deep on his face, his one eye weary. The sight seemed to strike Thor as well; when Odin motioned Thor to the chair across from him, he didn’t sit down. “Father,” he said quietly. “You’re…”

“I’m old, boy,” Odin said gruffly. “Old and tired, but there’s no time for sleep just yet. Sit.”

Thor’s expression tightened, but he did sit down, hands folding for a moment on the table before his restlessness got the better of him and his fingers began to tap. “I’m sorry, Father,” he burst out. “It’s my fault—”

“No,” Odin interrupted. “It’s mine. I underestimated your brother when I should have known better. But laying blame will do no good, now.”

Loki scowled. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. A war prisoner escaped on Thor’s watch – not just escaped, but made off with two of the most valuable items in Odin’s treasury – and not only was Thor not being punished, Odin was absolving him of all responsibility. But then, Thor was the golden prince, Odin’s one true son, the child he loved. Had Loki been in Thor’s place, he’d be lucky to escape without a flogging.

The scrying spell wavered, and he forced his attention back to his magic. Reinforced the spell with the power of the Tesseract and focused once more on the distant room.

Thor was saying, “He took the Infinity Gauntlet. And the Tesseract.”

Odin sighed. “I know.”

“We have to find him,” Thor said, fist clenching on the table. “He’s mad, Father, and he would destroy everything in his rage.”

“I know,” Odin said again, and this time there was the slightest hint of recrimination in his tone. Not enough – not nearly enough – but Thor subsided into angry silence nonetheless. Odin continued, “All is not lost, my son. The Gauntlet is incomplete, five of its gems hidden across the realms.”

“Where?” Thor demanded.

“Alfheim, Vanaheim, Niflheim, Muspelheim, and Midgard,” Odin said. “I’ve already sent word to our allies on the former to be on guard. They will try to capture Loki when he arrives seeking the gems.”

“They’ll have no success,” Thor said. “My brother is too wily. What about Midgard?”

“That, I think, will be up to you and your new shield companions,” Odin said.

And then his eye flicked up, over Thor’s shoulder to where Loki watched them from his spell, and for a terrible moment the Allfather and Loki locked eyes.

Loki slammed the spell closed, shoving the Tesseract away from him. Jahanna yelped a protest but he ignored her, running both his hands over his face.

It could have been a coincidence. Odin often stared into the distance when he was thinking, and it was entirely possible that that’s all he’d been doing. A trick, an illusion, the way some portraits’ eyes seemed to follow viewers as they walked along a hall. It had to be. There was no way Odin could have sensed Loki’s spell; he’d been too careful, too cautious…

Jahanna smacked him on the shoulder and he turned to look at her, startled. “Loki,” she said, her tone suggesting she’d been calling his name for some time. “What is it? What did you see?”

“A trap,” he said.

She listened in silence as he related Odin’s words, and how Odin had seemed to look at him. When he’d finished she said, “If it’s a trap, why alert you like that?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “Odin may be an ancient fool, but even fools can be cunning.”

Jahanna rested her elbows on the edge of the couch, chin in hand. Whatever healing she’d done had been surprisingly effective; the pain in his chest was gone and he could breathe freely. He laced his fingers behind his head, staring up at the ceiling, mind racing. From somewhere outside came a long high song, a beautiful, mournful sound like the cry of Vanaheim’s river-whales. Jahanna tilted her head to listen, a fond smile playing over her lips.

“If it was just a coincidence,” Loki said, thinking aloud, “then there’s no harm in acting on the information.”

“And if it’s not?”

He turned his head to grin at her. “If we two could steal from Odin himself, what lesser being could stop us?”

She laughed, tiny fangs flashing. “In that case, I have some ideas for tracking the gems. Knowing which worlds they’re on does make things much simpler.”

“So it does. I had thought to tie a locating spell to you and simply go looking, but that seems rather…”

“Time-consuming?”

“Inelegant.”

“Well then, Your Highness,” she said, bright and mischievous. “Where shall we start?”

Chapter Text

“Just like home, don’t you think?” Loki said, gesturing to the rivers of lava that flowed across the landscape below.

Jahanna did the fox-tilt of her head. “You know, I live inside a volcano and I think this might be excessive,” she said.

Loki laughed. The hot dry air of Muspelheim burned his throat and eyes – the land of fire was no place for a frost giant – but despite her words Jahanna looked delighted. In her arms, Tikal stood almost straight up, surveying the land; he chittered at her and she grinned. “All right, all right.” Aside to Loki she said, “He wants to go exploring.”

“As long as he’s back when we’re ready to leave,” he agreed. He felt energized, excited: they stood on the side of Muspelheim’s highest mountain, ready to break into its deepest vault, and it was exhilarating.

He’d expected Jahanna to let Tikal down to the ground; instead she tossed him upward, and in midair his form shifted from ermine to eagle, broad red wings catching an updraft and carrying him out of sight almost immediately. Loki’s eyebrows went up and he turned to see Jahanna smiling that fond smile. He said, “A familiar capable of shapeshifting. Powerful magic indeed.”

She blinked, shook herself out of whatever thought she’d drifted into. “I think you’ll be surprised by what Tikal is capable of,” she said lightly.

“Perhaps I’ll impose upon him to demonstrate,” he answered, and held out his arm, grinning wide, teasing. “Shall we?”

She took it, her hand light on his, all delicate grace and courtly poise. “Lead the way, Your Highness.”

After the trip to the Chitauri realm, they had taken the rest of the day to heal and rest and eat, and of course work on the spells they would need to find the Infinity Gems. Locating spells were really quite simple. Loki had been doing them since he’d just begun to learn magic as a child still in the nursery: first to find lost toys or keepsakes, later to track down old tomes in the library or forgotten places of wonder across the Realms. It all came down to understanding how to link something one wanted with something one had. For possessions, especially cherished ones, the self often sufficed to serve as the necessary physical link. Knowledge to knowledge was harder, but after long years of study he’d hit upon a particularly brilliant method of linking one book written by an author to another book by the same author; later he’d refined that to allow him to search by turns of phrase within a text.

Knowledge to object was by far the hardest link, however, and it was here that having Jahanna made all the difference. Aside from having rather more knowledge of the Infinity Gems than he did, she also had a link to them through her Eliatrope blood. As he’d told her, his original plan had been to simply invoke that tenuous link and hope to make up for lack of precision with sheer brute force. Inelegant to be sure, and he’d seen Thor demonstrate too many times why blunt force was inferior to intelligence to be comfortable relying on it. So when Jahanna told him that the Tesseract – the Eliacube – had been designed with the ability to link to similar sources of power, he’d been able to set up a far more powerful chain: Eliatrope to Eliacube, Eliacube to Infinity Gems.

(He’d asked her if her people called them Eliagems, but she’d just given him an odd look.)

Now, with the Eliacube in butterfly form perched on his shoulder, he fed a whisper of magic through that chain. It blossomed to life in his mind: a blue thread, bright as it traced through the air from Jahanna to the cube, growing fainter as it stretched out from the cube, searching; suddenly it brightened again and its wavering stopped. Loki smiled, predatory, satisfied, and took off down the rough rocky mountainside, Jahanna still holding his arm although now it was as much for balance as for appearance.

The path through Yggdrasil which he’d used to bring them to Muspelheim had deposited them near the peak of the towering mountain where the fire giants kept their most prized treasures. The vault itself was deep within the mountain, behind rivers of fire and scores of guards. But the sons of Muspell were only nominally allies of Asgard, slow to respond to the Allfather’s summons, and it was likely they were not yet prepared for Loki’s arrival. Which, of course, was why he’d chosen to strike here first.

They surprised the first sentry they found, a towering red-skinned man stationed at a narrowing of the pass. He had no time to call out, to react at all, before a pair of Loki’s throwing knives blossomed in his throat. His body slumped to the ground and Loki kept walking without breaking stride. But a tug on his arm made him look down, and he realized Jahanna was staring at the body with a look of unease.

“What’s the matter?” he asked. “Do you mourn him?”

“He was only doing his job,” Jahanna pointed out. “You didn’t have to kill him.”

“Why not? He would have killed us, given half a chance.”

“It’s…” She hesitated, one hand making vague motions as she sought the right words, and he sighed.

“Would you rather I had called out to him, announced our intent, and waited patiently for him to attack us? Would that have assuaged your conscience?”

“No, that’s—” she started, and he interrupted her again.

“Then why object to my striking the first blow?”

“You’re perfectly capable of sneaking us past a few guards. Why not just do that, and let him live?”

“Because subterfuge can only take us so far,” he answered. “The sons of Muspell are not terribly bright, but even they will notice their vault doors opening to an invisible hand. And I would prefer not to be trapped at the bottom of this path fighting the guards at the vault, when those I’d left alive hear the battle and come from behind.”

Her mouth opened and closed again; he could see her turning this over in her mind. Finally she said, “Fair point. But still, I’d prefer we not kill anyone we don’t have to.”

Loki rolled his eyes. “You sound like my brother, adopting of a sudden a fondness for lesser beings. Really, do you never so much as crush insects, in your righteous purity?”

She frowned at him. “Do you think everyone besides you is a lesser being?”

“Not everyone,” he said lightly. “I’m sure if I thought hard enough—”

She elbowed him in the ribs. “You are a bigot,” she said primly. “Am I a lesser being?”

“I—” he said, and stopped, thrown. She wasn’t Aesir, to be sure, yet she was obviously intelligent, able to keep up with him in their discussions of magical theory; and if he was honest with himself she behaved better than at least half the Aesir in Odin’s court. Including its crown prince. “You’re an Eliatrope,” he dodged.

She flicked him that sideways glance that he was beginning to realize meant trouble, and he was almost glad when they rounded another bend and found themselves in the middle of a troop of six fire giants. Almost.

“Oh,” he said, and reached for his knives; but the giants had heard them talking and their weapons were already raised, swinging for his head—

Blue light like a lance and the nearest two giants staggered back, attacks going wild. Jahanna lowered her hands and grinned, showing off her fangs. The giants roared a challenge and this time all of them attacked at once, a sudden whirlwind of fire and steel. Loki wrapped himself in a veil and dropped low beneath their blades, spinning off an illusion of himself going in the other direction. One giant sidestepped to attack it and tripped over him, and Loki used the momentum to flip him over the side of the mountain, wincing at the hiss when the giant’s skin brushed the metal of Loki’s bracers.

Just as a frost giant could deep-freeze a man with a touch, so too could fire giants burn a man to the bone. And he really didn’t want to think about what fire could do to frost.

His double was gone, sliced through by another giant. Further back, Jahanna’s blue magic flared and he heard the howl as she sent yet another giant tumbling down the mountain. Still hidden by his veil, Loki snapped off another double, catching the eye of the giant that had killed the first, and let the giant back his illusion up against the edge of a cliff.

A spinning blue Eliatrope portal flashed open behind the giant and spat out yet another; the first whirled, thinking it was an attack, and his axe sliced straight through his companion’s torso. Loki finished the job with a trio of daggers to the giant’s chest and neck, and both bodies landed in a heap.

Four down, and the remaining two sons of Muspell were backing away, wary and regrouping. Loki summoned another illusion to step out from behind the curve of the mountain, looking around cautiously. Jahanna glanced at the double and then back to the giants, teeth bared in a wild grin. She called out to the giants, “You fight well!”

One of them just snarled at her, but the other said, “And you fight like a craven coward, hiding and running.”

Loki moved to the side, circling around the edge of the path, mindful of the long fall behind him. A few more seconds and he’d be behind the giants.

“Perhaps you’d like to meet my brother, then,” Jahanna said. “He prefers your kind of combat.”

“That Aesir nīðing is no honorable warrior—” the talkative giant spat, but a shriek like Death incarnate and Jahanna’s finger pointing behind them cut him off.

Both sons of Muspell spun around, just as an enormous red-feathered eagle dove from the sky. Its talons sank into the shoulders of the silent giant, and with a downbeat of wings that blasted dirt and grit across the face of the mountain, the eagle carried him off into the night. Loki took the opportunity to bury a pair of knives in the gut of the other, the one who’d insulted him, slicing him open like a pig for slaughter. He let the veil drop as he did, and the giant’s eyes widened in fear at the expression on his face.

One more slash of the knives took the giant’s head. Loki straightened, shaking blood from his blades.

“I notice,” he said, “that you did not appear to have qualms about killing these giants.”

Jahanna scowled. “They attacked us.”

“Ah. Yes.” If his voice wasn’t dryer than Muspelheim’s atmosphere, it wasn’t for lack of trying.

“All right, all right!” She threw both hands in the air. “I said I don’t want to kill anyone we don’t have to. These, we had to. All right?”

He gave her a skeptical look, and she glared back before being forced to watch where she put her feet, as she stepped over the bodies of the slain sons of Muspell to join him. He offered her his arm again, and after a moment she took it. He found the blue thread guiding him to the Infinity Gem and set off once more, trying with limited success to keep his smile from becoming a smirk.

Then she asked, “What does nīðing mean?”, and Loki felt his smile vanish.

A needle in his heart was what it meant, the whispers he’d heard all too often when he walked veiled through the halls of Odin’s palace. No one had ever dared say it aloud, not while he’d still been a prince (if a weak one, an unworthy son), and Thor had promised to take Mjölnir to anyone who did.

Loki never told him that Sif and the Warriors Three were among those who whispered it.

“It is an insult,” he said, and it came out more stiffly than he’d meant. “A grave one.”

She made a noncommittal noise. They walked some ways further before she said, “So tell me, Highness. You call yourself Loki of Asgard, but you say you don’t answer to the Aesir. You’re not a Chitauri. You use powers frowned upon by the warriors in this realm. You carry a hatred for Odin the All-Father and his son too bitter not to be personal. And you called Thor Odinson ‘brother’.” That sideways glance again. “What’s your story?”

“My story.” A laugh that choked him, razors in his chest, his heart. “Are you so sure you want to hear such an ugly tale?”

She said nothing, just waiting.

A minute passed.

He began to talk.

Chapter Text

The sons of Muspell fought, and the sons of Muspell died.

Loki talked throughout. The story of a second son, an unnecessary prince nevertheless promised he could be a king. How he worked hard, so hard, to prove himself worthy: smart and reasonable and cunning, all the things a king should be.

All the things he’d thought, once, that Odin was.

How as the years passed, he watched his brother, the golden prince, the firstborn, become known for his temper and his prowess with his favored weapon, a hammer no sharper than his mind. How he’d believed, at first, that Odin saw this and knew it represented an inherent flaw. How the announcement of Thor’s coronation as crown prince, as king-in-waiting, had come as a physical blow, and how he’d finally accepted that he’d have to force Thor to irrevocably, irredeemably prove himself unworthy.

They reached the doors of the Muspelheim vault, great stone slabs behind a fall of lava. The fire giants guarding it laughed at them, confident that they wouldn’t be able to pass. Laughed until Tikal, still in the form of a giant eagle, landed above the doors and spread his wings, diverting the lava. Then the giants fought, like those before them, and died, like those before them.

Loki picked up the tale again as they passed through the great doors. Telling Jahanna of his plot to open a hole in Asgard’s defenses, just big enough for a few daring Jotun to creep through. As the coronation progressed, he’d feared they would not take the bait. But they did, finally, just moments before the ceremony was complete.

Thor had reacted exactly as expected. And Odin’s fury at the result had been glorious. Loki hadn’t actually anticipated Thor’s banishment, but he should have enjoyed it: finally, the golden prince suffering real consequences for his actions.

Would have enjoyed it, except he couldn’t stop thinking about what had happened when the Jotun warrior had tried to freeze him.

He barely noticed that Jahanna had stopped fighting. He was a whirlwind of razors and broken edges, words spat out as sharp-edged as his knives. He told her about visiting the Casket of Ancient Winters. About Odin finding his distress so inconsequential, so utterly boring, that he’d retreated to the Odinsleep to avoid it. Which, with Thor banished, had left Loki the rightful king of Asgard.

“But they didn’t listen,” he snarled. Knife in a red-skinned gut, seeing instead silver armor and long black hair and a defiant, mocking bow before the lawful king. “Because Loki is no king, he is weak, he is argr—” The giant fell, shredded intestines spilling filth only half as foul as the word on his lips.

He’d had to find a way to prove himself as worthy of the throne as he’d shown Thor not to be. But Odin had stacked the deck: Mjölnir would never deem a Jotun worthy, only those who dared oppose one. And his other option – wiping out Asgard’s most ancient enemy and ending a millennia-long hostility, a feat which, had any true Aesir achieved it, would have resulted in celebrations and accolades – was suddenly wrong, evil, despicable. Because a Jotun had done it.

Instead of being praised he’d been cursed; instead of gratitude he’d been given condemnation; instead of being accepted he’d been cast into the void, unwanted, unloved, unworthy—

“Loki.”

He blinked.

Jahanna gripped his arm with both hands, white-knuckled, eyes wide. “Loki,” she said again, softer, “they’re dead. They’re all dead.”

He was panting, lungs raw from the heat, the smell of blood thick in the air. Fire giant bodies all around, too many – and in too many pieces – to count. His shoulders ached, his legs too; his head buzzing as it did when he pushed his magic too far. His cheeks felt tight and strange, and when he brushed a hand across his face, there was drying blood, yes, from the sons of Muspell – but there were tears as well.

He looked down at Jahanna, watched with a vague sense of disconnect as she loosened her grip on his arm. As she turned, scanning the vault; and he followed her gaze to where a big ugly gem sat forgotten in a pile of smaller sparkling ones. He didn’t quite remember walking over to it; he felt strange, empty, and the weight of the smooth green stone in his hand was nothing. He tucked it into a pocket.

Jahanna’s hand on his back, gentle, and a spinning blue portal opening before him. He let her steer him through it, away from the blood and the gore and the memories.

* * *

Time passed. Loki sat splay-legged in one of Jahanna’s thronelike chairs, chin propped in his fingers, staring at nothing. His outer armor was gone; Jahanna had murmured something about getting the blood off before it dried further and carried it to one of the other rooms. Tikal, back in ermine form, was curled in a tight red knot beside him. The only thought Loki could hold for more than a moment was an idle curiosity whether Tikal had eaten the frost giant he’d carried off. His mind felt like it was spinning, racing at the speed of light; yet at the same time devoid of either thought or emotion.

Jahanna came back and perched on the arm of the chair, shoulder not quite touching his. She didn’t say anything, her finger trailing faint blue magic along the patterns carved into the wood of the chair. Finally Loki couldn’t take the silence any more. “So which have you deemed me?” he asked. His voice was bitter, broken; Jahanna didn’t look up. “Am I weak? An unfit partner in this little affair? Or am I dangerous, the monster who’ll eat your children and destroy your home?”

“I think,” Jahanna said quietly, “that you keep calling yourself a Jotun and a monster, but I don’t know what a Jotun is, and you don’t look like a monster.”

“I am a monster because I am a Jotun,” he snapped. “They are a race of monsters, slavering beasts who destroy everything they touch—”

She set her palm against his jaw, turning his head to look at her. “I see a man,” she said. “Not a—”

“A man?” he cut her off. “No. This form I wear is an illusion, nothing more, an illusion like everything else about me—”

“Then show me,” she said, stubborn. “Show me what’s under the illusion—”

“Show you?” he spat. “You really want to see what a monster looks like?”

He’d never done it deliberately before, but it was horrifically easy. The cold washed through him, as it had when he’d touched the Casket; freed the blue and the red and the scars from where he’d kept them unknowing, buried under a veneer of Aesir. Jahanna’s next breath frosted in the space between them and she jerked her hand away with a soft oh.

He smiled, all void and broken edges, a vindictive hurt stabbing through him, of course she wouldn’t want to touch so foul a creature, except suddenly she reached for him again. If her fingers had been too warm before they were painfully hot now, as she traced the lines of ceremonial scars he barely knew, her mouth open in a little O of wonder. “You’re beautiful,” she breathed.

He stared at her, too shocked for a moment to speak, to move, to do anything; then, “Liar!” and he knocked her hand away, hard, hard enough that she nearly fell off the chair.

She caught her balance, her hand reaching up again, her eyes roaming across his face, and he grabbed her wrist, feeling bones grind under his grip. She yelped, focusing on him – his eyes – for the first time since he’d transformed. “Why?” she demanded. “Why hate this?”

“There is nothing beautiful about, about this, about me, a, a monster, a Jotun nīðing—” aware he was stuttering, his silver tongue failing, unable to stop it. Her free hand, now, was drifting toward him; he didn’t think she was even aware she was doing it but for some reason she wanted to touch him, touch his horrible frozen blue skin, and he couldn’t understand. He grabbed her other wrist, pulled her arms wide, ignoring Tikal who’d stood straight up beside him, hissing low and fierce. “This face,” he snarled, “this body is born of the monster Laufey, King of Jotunheim, who slaughtered thousands of Aesir, whose name alone sends children screaming, who—”

Jahanna kissed him, hard and fierce and burning hot, stopping the words in his mouth and the thoughts in his mind. He shoved her away with his grip on her wrists and his longer arms. He had to be hurting her; he could feel the ice in his hands, his breath, feel her bones under his fingers, too fragile, but she didn’t seem to care. She slid awkwardly from the arm of the chair to straddle his knees, bringing them face to face, eye to eye. This close he could see the flecks of red in her dark eyes, glimmers like dying stars in the night. She said fiercely, “You are not Laufey, and you are no monster, no nīðing. You are Loki, and you’re—”

—and this time it was Loki who kissed her, to silence her, his only option with his hands wrapped around her wrists. Ice in his mouth, freezing against her lips, in his hands holding her pinned, and if she wanted to know why Jotun were monsters he’d show her, show her what a monster was, what a monster did. He pushed forward, hard, leaning her off-balance, kissing her harder, tasting blood where his too-sharp Jotun teeth or her fangs had split skin; but she pushed back, knees gripping his hips, every bit as forceful as he was.

He shoved, bigger than her and stronger. They slammed to the ground together, Loki above her, pinning her hands beside her shoulders, her legs wrapped around his waist; he wasn’t sure whether he was freezing her or she was burning him. Tikal screeched somewhere behind them but Jahanna didn’t even look at him, focused on Loki, one hand twisting free of his grip and reaching up to tangle in his hair. He’d intended to show her what it meant to be a monster, the truth of a Jotun, but the thought kept slipping from his grasp, drowned in her dark fierce eyes and burned by her too-hot fingers on his skin, and finally he released it, let it fall into the void, and gave himself over to her heat.

* * *

Some time later, Loki lay sprawled on the floor, head pillowed on his arm. Jahanna was tucked against his side, a forge in the shape of a woman, though he was beginning to grow accustomed to the heat. He still wore his Jotun form, and the sight of his blue arm against her dusky skin was strange. He could see bruises forming in bands around her wrists, but she’d given him rings of teeth marks in return, and, he suspected, what was going to be a spectacular lovebite along the side of his neck.

Tikal had long since vanished, which, if Loki’s growing suspicions were true, was for the best. Their clothes were scattered everywhere, although Jahanna had somehow managed to retain that ridiculous fox-eared hat. The ears – they couldn’t actually be ears, could they? He could see one of her normal ears poking up through her tangled black hair – the whatever-they-were had relaxed, drooping to the sides of her head. He let his hand drift up her shoulder, drawing a shiver from her, and touched one of the points gently.

It twitched, and her eyes slitted open to regard him with sleepy amusement. “Yes?”

“You pry my secrets from me,” he said, “yet you keep yours well hidden.”

He could feel magic thrumming under the fabric, raw and powerful, not unlike touching the Tesseract. He prodded at it again but a tiny portal opened up beneath his finger, blocking him; he raised an eyebrow at her. “Eliatropes always cover them,” she said. He realized suddenly that she was blushing.

“Is always of itself a good reason to do a thing?” he asked.

“Mmph.” She caught his hand, pulled it down to wrap around her stomach instead. “Tell me something, Loki of Asgard.”

Her voice had gone pensive, strange, and he studied her face for a moment before answering, cautiously, “What do you want to know?”

“Why do you work for Thanos?”

His eyes narrowed, hands clenching into fists, the peace of a minute before gone in a rush of void and darkness. He remembered falling, alone, endless; remembered coming back to his senses stripped and chained in a Chitauri oubliette.

We will teach you to scream for us, little foundling.

“Why do you think I do?” he asked, and his voice was almost as disinterested as he’d meant it to be.

“I think helping Thanos destroy the universe is the worst thing you could be doing for yourself right now.”

He stared at her.

“He’s not going to give you a kingdom,” she continued. “He’s using you to get what he wants and then he’ll kill you and take everything for himself—”

“Do you think I don’t know that?” he demanded, coming upright, twisting to face her. “Do you think I haven’t tied my brain in knots looking for a way to defeat him?”

“Then why do you still help him?”

“Because I can’t defeat him.” Loki hunched over his knees, eyes closing, rubbing a hand over his face and flinching at his own unfamiliar scars. “Not yet, not as I am now, an— an unwanted Jotun in Aesir clothing. Not alone.”

A hand on his arm, hot, light, and Jahanna said gently, “You have us.”

His next breath like broken glass, sharp and brittle in his chest; claws around his heart. He opened his eyes to see her watching him, dark gaze too heavy, and he had to look away, gritting his teeth.

He made himself breathe in, breathe out. His control was long gone, lost somewhere in the fiery rivers of Muspelheim, in Jahanna’s heated embrace, but he gathered what few shreds remained and wrapped himself in them. Said, “I’d hoped that if I stayed in Thanos’s good graces – such as they are – for long enough, I would find a way to stop him.” Because preventing a titan from destroying the universe had to be worthy, even if it was a Jotun doing it.

“Then I’ll offer you a deal,” she said. “Find that way, defeat Thanos, and I’ll show you what hides beneath an Eliatrope’s hat.”

“Bribery,” he said, and he couldn’t quite decide whether to be amused or scornful. “Do you really think it’s necessary? That I would not do a good deed save to assuage my curiosity?”

“I think you’ll do it for the same reason I am,” she said. “But having an added bonus never hurts.”

He studied her face, trying to find the mockery, the mistrust, but couldn’t – and just for a moment, he allowed himself to entertain the idea that she genuinely believed in him. He said, “Then I will hold you to that bargain, Jahanna the Eliatrope.”

She smiled, leaned against his side, tracing the Jotun scars on his arm. “So what’s our next move?”

“We keep searching for the gems. Thanos will track our progress, and if he believes we are stalling…”

She shuddered. “Good point. I think we should go to Midgard next.”

“Midgard?” He’d intended to put that one, and the inevitably painful meeting it would bring, off till last.

“I want to meet that brother of yours,” she said—

—Of course she did, the golden prince, everyone wanted to meet him—

“—and hit him in the face with his own hammer.”

Loki choked.

Jahanna grinned.

Chapter Text

“I thought,” said Tony Stark, “that the whole point of letting you take Loki back to Asgard was that you guys could actually hang on to him.”

Thor winced. “It seems we – Father and I – gravely underestimated my brother.”

“No shit,” Clint Barton muttered.

“And not only did Loki escape, he made off with not one but two, count ‘em, two Powerful Artifacts of Power,” Stark continued, ignoring him. “This sounds like a problem.”

The six members of the Avengers Initiative sat around a table in one of the Helicarrier’s many meeting chambers – conference rooms, Stark had called them on the way in – having been hastily summoned by Director Fury after Thor arrived the night before with the bad news. Three days had passed since Loki’s escape from Asgard, three days during which Thor had alternated between anger at his brother, worry for his father’s declining health, and fear for the worlds that would suffer Loki’s wrath.

Being here, surrounded by the companions who’d helped him defeat Loki the first time, alleviated the fear somewhat. The Avengers could protect Midgard, at least. Yet at the same time, Thor could not help wondering: who would protect Loki from the Avengers?

“It is a problem.” Director Fury, standing at the head of the table and looking… Well. He always looked grim. “Any idea what his plan is?”

“In the long term, no,” Thor hedged, although he could see what they were all thinking: total domination of the Nine Realms. “In the short term, he seeks the rest of the Infinity Gems, to complete the Gauntlet.”

“Do we know where they are?” This from Captain Rogers.

“More importantly,” Stark interrupted before Thor could answer, “does Loki know?”

“Yes,” Thor said to the captain, and to Stark, “We’re not sure, but my father believes Loki spied on our discussion in order to learn their locations.”

“Which are?” Captain Rogers asked.

“Alfheim, Vanaheim, Niflheim,” Thor recited, holding up a finger for each, “Muspelheim, and Midgard.”

“Well, shit,” Stark said. “We can only do something about one of those.”

“…Two,” Fury said suddenly and reluctantly. “Earth has two.”

Thor stared at him. “What?”

Fury regarded him for a moment, his level one-eyed stare reminding Thor of Odin. “You and your brother,” Fury said, “were not the first extraterrestrials to ever come to Earth. You’re just the ones who made it clear we weren’t prepared.”

He looked around the table, fixing each of them with his eye in turn. “Until now, only five people knew about the second gem: Myself, three of my agents, and the scientist we hired to examine it after the… situation in New Mexico.” His eye settled on Thor. “Doctor Jane Foster.”

Thor’s breath caught. Jane. Jane, who had cared for him when he was as low as a man could be, whom he’d missed terribly ever since he’d had to leave her behind. Jane, whom Loki had threatened. He said, “You told me she was sent to a safe place.”

“That was six days ago, Mister Odinson,” Fury said. “The conference is over and she’s returned to our base in New Mexico to continue her work.”

“Which is what?” Thor asked sharply. “What could Earth possibly intend to do with two Infinity Gems?”

“She is trying,” Director Fury said levelly, “to re-create the Einstein-Rosen bridge between Earth and Asgard.”

Something caught in Thor’s chest, and an image of Jane’s face, her determination and her joy, flashed through his mind. His Jane sought a way to reunite with him.

“Look,” Captain Rogers said to Thor, “We know you’re worried about her. We don’t want to see anyone hurt by Loki. But we need to focus on the bigger picture here.”

“Which is that an omnicidal, megalomaniacal psychopath with delusions of—”

“Tony,” Bruce Banner said. It was the first he’d spoken, sitting quiet and nervous beside Stark; Thor had almost forgotten he was there. Now he was watching Thor uneasily, and only then did Thor realize his own hands had clenched into white-knuckled fists on the table, and that he was growling.

“What?” Stark demanded, looking between Thor and Banner. “He is, we all know it—”

“He is still my brother,” Thor reminded him, biting back the growl. “Regardless of what he has done.”

“He’s also batshit crazy,” Agent Barton said, then held up both hands quickly when Thor turned to glare at him. “When he—while he—while I was…” He stopped, took a breath, and started again. “He wasn’t all there. We all could see it.”

Thor bit his tongue to stop an angry retort. Of all of them, Agent Barton had spent the most time with Loki during the failed invasion. Thor might know the Loki of old, from before his fall from the Bifrost, but the Loki who had come back had changed. And Loki had all but said it himself, hadn’t he, when Thor had taken him from the Quinjet? Speaking of the things he’d seen, the things he’d learned… they were not the words of a sane man. He forced his hands to unclench.

“So what’s the plan?” That was Agent Romanoff. Like Banner, she’d kept to herself, but there was something in the way she watched the rest of them that reminded Thor of Loki – how he’d often sat back among large groups of people and listened, only to, days or weeks or even years later, use what he’d heard to persuade people to his will. The Warriors Three had called it unsettling. Odin had called it cunning.

“The plan,” Director Fury answered, “is to recapture Loki when he comes looking for the Infinity Gems.”

“Okay, granted, we’ve got numbers on our side here, six of us and one of him, and we’ve taken him down once already,” Stark said. “But if we split up to protect both gems at once, the odds suddenly start looking like the kind they warn you against at the racetracks.”

“I don’t suppose we’re lucky enough to have them both in one place?” Banner asked.

“I’m afraid not,” Fury said. “And I’ve decided that the risk of taking one or both of them out of heavily-guarded SHIELD labs to move them to a safe place together is higher than we can afford.”

“Stark’s right about splitting up, though,” Captain Rogers said. “It’s too risky.”

“I agree,” Director Fury said. “Right now, the Helicarrier is holding exactly halfway between our Alabama lab, and the New Mexico facility where Doctor Foster is working. It’s less than twenty minutes by Quinjet to either one.”

“Twenty minutes is too long,” Agent Romanoff said. “It took him less than ten to do… what he did in Germany.”

“That’s why I’ve instructed my agents to stall Loki to give you enough time to get there,” Fury said. “We’ve got eyes and ears in a five-mile radius around both labs, including Doctor Banner’s gamma-ray detection system to track any use of the Tesseract. We should be able to spot him considerably further away than we did at the opera house. I’ve told my agents to do whatever it takes to stall him.”

“Did you tell them to get him talking?” Stark asked. “Guy loves to talk. Like seriously, if you ignore the part where he tried to mind-whammy me, we had a nice little chat in the Tower. I guess they don’t have the Evil Overlord list on Asgard.”

The director actually looked amused for a moment, but his voice was serious when he said, “Yes, Mister Stark, that was part of the instructions.”

“I saw the security tape,” Captain Rogers said. “It looked like you were the one doing all the talking, Stark.”

“Point still stands,” Stark countered. “We kind of established already that Loki’s like me but evil. Also not as good at being me, which is why I can out-talk him.”

“You could out-talk—”

The wail of an alarm cut off Roger’s retort and brought them all to their feet. Over the siren, Fury snapped, “They’ve spotted him.” He had a hand up to the listening device in his ear; after another moment he added, “Two miles outside the Alabama lab. Go!”

They were already running, bolting out the door and through the halls of the Helicarrier, Agents Barton and Romanoff in the lead by dint of being the ones most familiar with its labyrinthine layout. In the back of his mind Thor counted the seconds as they piled into the Quinjet, another SHIELD agent in uniform already at the controls with the engines fired up. The pilot didn’t wait for them to sit down, didn’t even wait for the doors to close fully; there was a blast of heat and motion and the Quinjet rocketed out of the Helicarrier’s hangar toward Alabama – and Loki.

Chapter Text

It was because they were all combat veterans, reflexes honed by years of battle, that they all jumped when a cheerful tune chirruped over the sound of the Quinjet’s engines. Thor was sure that was the reason. It had nothing to do with the fact that they were going to face the man who’d destroyed half of one of Midgard’s greatest cities and nearly killed several of them.

Stark rather guiltily pulled his long-distance talking device from a pocket, but his expression darkened when he looked at it, and he quickly held it to his ear. The rest of them tried not to listen, but the passenger area of the Quinjet was small, and Stark was loud: “What happened—He what?! When? Was anyone—No? Okay, good, look, send me the security feed, we need to see this, it’s important. Yeah, thanks.”

Stark lowered the talking device, speaking to the rest of them as he glanced around the cabin and began opening panels and pulling out flat tablets of Earth technology on slender mechanical arms. “Loki turned up at Stark Tower – my tower, why can’t that bastard leave it alone, get his own damn tower – about ten minutes ago,” he said. “I’m bringing up the feed… now.”

As he said it, the glass tablets lit up, each showing a rather grainy, black-and-white image of the top of Stark Tower. It was still covered in broken glass and bits of bent metal and smashed stone from the fight five days ago, though the Tesseract portal device had been carted away along with the bigger pieces of debris. The terrace was empty for only a few seconds before the air distorted in a ripple visible even on the poor-quality image, and Loki appeared in the center of the tower.

To Thor’s surprise – and from the others’ reactions, theirs as well – Loki was not alone. A young woman was beside him, wearing a bizarre hat that gave her the appearance of having oversized fox ears. Something like a large metal butterfly perched on one of the ears, its wings flapping lazily. It was hard to tell in the black-and-white image, but it almost seemed to be glowing. On the screen, Loki reached a hand up to the butterfly, his face set in the distant expression of concentration that Thor knew well. He was working magic.

After a moment, Loki’s head turned, eyes tracking some invisible line away from the tower. He exchanged a few words with the woman, then they strode together to the far corner of the tower, only barely still visible in the image. Loki repeated the spell and nodded to himself, then the air rippled again and they both disappeared.

“He’s triangulating,” Agent Barton said.

“He doesn’t know exactly where the gems are,” Captain Rogers said, and there was no mistaking the relief in his voice. “Means he can’t just… poof, step out of nowhere like that right on top of them.”

“Wait, did anyone else notice the chick?” Stark asked. “Because he had a chick.” He turned to Thor. “You could have told us that your brother the homicidal maniac has a girlfriend.”

Thor had to take a moment to sort out the Midgard slang. “My brother has had no relationships that I know of, not for a while,” he said finally. But he remembered his conversation with Loki on the mountainside: Who controls the would-be king? Thor had said it mostly to provoke him, because he hadn’t thought Loki would bow to any other. Yet Loki had refused to answer, had dodged the question as he sometimes did when his silver tongue failed to provide a sufficient lie. At the time, Thor had thought it another in a rapidly growing list of signs that Loki had lost his reason; now…

Now, he wondered whether his question had hit closer to the mark than he’d realized.

“She could be a thrall,” Captain Rogers pointed out. “SHIELD has his scepter, but we don’t know how much of the mind control came from the scepter and how much of it came from him.”

“He could do no such thing before,” Thor said.

“That you know of,” Stark said. “And he had, what, a year or so to learn lots of new tricks?”

“She could also be a previous thrall,” Agent Romanoff said. She traded a glance with Agent Barton, the kind of look between two people who knew each other well. Barton’s face was grim, his jaw set.

The Captain noticed, too, because he said, “All right. We use nonlethal force on the girl until we know whether she’s a thrall or a willing assistant. If you can, aim for… what was it again?”

“Cognitive recalibration,” Agent Romanoff supplied.

“Hit her in the head,” Banner translated. His nervous twitch turned into a real smile when Stark grinned at the joke.

“Non-fatally, please,” Captain Rogers reminded them

The pilot’s voice sounded through the cabin, cutting off further discussion: “ETA three minutes. Better get ready.”

“That’s you,” the Captain said to Stark. Rogers himself had turned up to the meeting in his uniform with his shield strapped to his back, while the two SHIELD agents seemed always to be ready for a fight, and Banner did not so much make use of armor or weapons as destroy them. Stark nodded and slid a big metal box from yet another compartment in the wall, letting his iron suit envelop him as Captain Rogers continued, “Stark, when we get close, drop Barton someplace high. Barton, you’re mission control. Eyes sharp.”

Barton nodded, but said, “If I get a shot I’m taking it.”

“Understood.” Captain Rogers caught and held Thor’s eyes for a moment, and Thor bit back the protest on his lips. The Captain continued, “Romanoff, Thor, stay with me. Banner, hang back until Loki engages. This is a SHIELD experimental facility; we want to minimize collateral damage.”

Motors whirred, and a blast of wind rushed through the cabin as the bay doors began to open. Stark stepped forward, fully armored, his faceplate sliding closed. “Ready, Legolas?”

Barton hooked an arm around Stark’s neck. “Let’s do it.”

They jumped out of the jet, disappearing immediately. Thor stood next, heading for the doors; he stopped when Rogers snapped, “Thor. I said you’re with me.”

“I heard you,” Thor said, annoyed. “But I cannot summon my armor in a metal airship full of mortals. I will join you on the ground.”

Rogers scowled. “I know he’s your brother, but we’re a team. Don’t go running off on your own.”

“Then I suggest,” Thor growled, “that you do not tarry.”

He leapt from the jet, Mjölnir in hand, calling lightning to him from the cloudy sky and feeling his armor wrap around him. The SHIELD lab was almost directly below, four large, blocky buildings surrounding a central courtyard. Other such complexes, separated by rolling lawns studded with trees, spread out in all directions; Midgardians seemed sometimes to have no imagination when it came to architecture. He could see the red and gold of Stark’s suit zooming over one of the buildings of the SHIELD complex, but except for that the area was quiet, empty of people, no evidence of assault…

…until he spotted the two ravens tucked against a window overlooking the courtyard, and knew Loki was here. Huginn and Muninn were as close as Odin could come to tracking his younger son without being there in person. Another bird, big and red-feathered and vicious, circled low above the buildings, calling a hunting cry at Thor for invading its territory.

Thor swung Mjölnir to slow his descent, and his landing left only a small crater in the grass of the courtyard. Stark touched down beside him a moment later, and the Quinjet swooped into place above them, Rogers and Romanoff and Banner dropping down on cables. For a moment, everything was still, save for the fading roar of the Quinjet as it retreated to a safer distance.

Then a shimmering blue circle appeared on the steps of the building in front of them, and Loki’s fox-eared companion stepped out from within it.

Seeing her without the grainy filter of the video, Thor was certain she was no Aesir – but neither was she of any other race he recognized. She was smiling darkly, one corner of her mouth curved sharp and wicked. The metal butterfly perched on her fingers, glowing the same brilliant blue as her strange portal, as the stolen Tesseract.

“Miss,” Captain Rogers called. “Put down the… the magic thing and stand aside.”

She shook her head, still smirking. “I was charged by His Highness with keeping you out of this building,” she said.

Over his Midgardian earpiece Thor heard Barton’s voice: “She’s not a thrall, Captain, look at her eyes.”

The captain nodded. “Stark, Romanoff, circle around, go in the back,” he said quietly. Then, to the girl, “Miss, what’s your name? What’s Loki threatening to get you to help him?”

Her smile widened enough to show a quartet of tiny fangs. “I am Jahanna, sister to Tikalukatal, and Loki has not threatened me with anything.”

Thor growled, grip tightening on Mjölnir. So she was the one behind the would-be king, the one who’d twisted Loki’s mind to hatred and madness. Out of the corners of his eyes he saw Stark and Romanoff easing away, one toward either side of the building. Thor shouted to Jahanna, “You give my brother back to me. He is not your toy—”

“He’s not yours, either.” Jahanna rolled her hand around the butterfly on her fingers, and it clicked and morphed and suddenly between her palms—

“The Tesseract!”

Barton and the Captain said it at the same time. The cube flared and Thor didn’t wait for the coming attack. He flung Mjölnir at Jahanna as Romanoff took off for her side of the building at a dead run, and Stark blasted into the air on his side. A blue portal appeared beneath Jahanna’s feet and she fell down through it, Mjölnir whistling between her fox ears. Another portal opened high in the air and Jahanna popped up out of it, Tesseract still floating before her, both hands flinging out to the sides.

Mjölnir’s handle smacked into Thor’s palm even as he realized what Jahanna intended, as twin portals opened directly in front of Stark and Romanoff, too close to dodge; and another in front of him. Red and gold metal crashed into Thor, knocking him sprawling; he heard Stark gag and shoved him off him, and Stark barely managed to get his faceplate up before he vomited into the grass.

Thor scrambled upright. Romanoff had been dropped onto the Captain, but though she had turned an unpleasant shade of green, she’d managed to keep down her stomach and was staggering to her feet with Rogers’ assistance. Past them he could see the Hulk, newly transformed, roaring a challenge, but Jahanna had vanished back into her portal, nowhere to be seen—

Blue light behind the Captain, and Thor and Barton both shouted a warning; Rogers spun and lifted his shield even as Jahanna flew upwards out of the portal and fired a beam of magical energy at him from her palms. Arrows from Barton sang through the air but yet more portals opened, blink-blink and suddenly the arrows were hitting the Hulk in the chest and face instead, making him roar and toss his head, throwing off his charge. Jahanna had disappeared back into her portal and Thor snarled, feeling helpless, with no idea where she’d reappear.

Barton’s voice in his ear – “Above you!” – and Thor looked up to see Jahanna high in the air, hovering for a moment at the apex of her ascent, hands coming together to fling more beams of energy down at them. Thor called down lightning, the Captain flung his shield, Stark blasted energy bolts, and Barton and Romanoff both fired their weapons. Thor thought for a moment that Jahanna’s eyes widened, in fear, perhaps? – but then the Tesseract flared, and a dozen portals opened around her and around the Avengers on the ground.

Thor’s lightning slammed into the Hulk, sending him flying across the courtyard to slam into the building behind them. Barton’s arrows stabbed into the ground around Romanoff, forcing her to stop firing to dodge. Her bullets clattered against Stark’s armor, Stark’s energy bolts slammed into Thor, rocking him back a step, and the Captain barely managed to dodge his own shield.

Jahanna reappeared near the ground, and the Hulk launched himself out of the building toward her while arrows screamed down from above. A hunting cry rang out overhead, and Thor glanced up in time to see the enormous red-feathered bird slam into Barton from behind, knocking him over the edge of the building. Jahanna’s hands flashed, a portal spinning into existence beneath Barton and spitting him out directly in the Hulk’s path, even as Jahanna vanished downward into yet another portal. The Hulk skidded, barely managing to avoid stepping on Barton as the agent rolled to his hands and knees, visibly trying not to throw up.

Mjölnir sang in Thor’s grip and he kept his gaze on his friends as long as he could, even as his shoulders bunched, preparing – and then he spun, flinging Mjölnir toward the portal opening on the steps of the building in front of them. For just a second he thought it would land true; he could see the sudden panic in Jahanna’s eyes as she rose up from the portal to see the hammer coming toward her – but even Mjölnir could not fly faster than thought.

He realized his mistake even as the portals opened, twin flares of blue; tried to dodge but Mjölnir was already there, and his hammer crashed into his temple, knocking him dazed to the ground.

A laugh cut through the ringing in his ears, cut through the sounds of combat, a laugh all too familiar to Thor. He pushed himself up to his elbows as Loki stepped through the doors of the SHIELD building, one gauntleted arm raised for the strange red eagle to land on. It changed form to a sleek ermine and slithered up his shoulder to settle around his neck.

Loki looked healthier than when Thor had last seen him: some of the gauntness gone from his cheeks and the dark circles beneath his eyes not quite so prominent; his hair once again clean and sleek, if still longer than Thor was used to. He was smiling, broad and amused, as he watched Thor pick himself up; and he leaned down a little to say to Jahanna, “That really was excellent.”

Thor’s companions had stopped, pulling back to regroup, all of them watching Loki and his partner. Barton had his bow up, an arrow strung, but his hand was not quite steady after his trip through the portal and he didn’t shoot. Thor called out, “Brother, you need to stop this, you need to—”

“I need many things,” Loki said lightly. “But you cannot give me any of them.” He held out his arm, courtly and formal; Jahanna took it and he smiled at her. Thor’s insides twisted: it was the smile Loki had once reserved only for him, for their most perilous and rewarding exploits – but there was something else beside, something Thor didn’t quite recognize and which stabbed into him in ways he couldn’t quite explain.

“Brother,” he started, but Captain Rogers spoke over him: “Loki, we stopped you once, we’ll do it again. Give up now, it’ll be a lot easier.”

Loki’s eyes, bright and green and wicked, flicked over to the Captain and he smirked. “Are you so sure about that?”

A snarl over the earpiece was Thor’s only warning before Barton loosed his arrow. Jahanna’s fox-ears twitched but no portal opened to swallow the arrow; instead Loki snatched it out of midair. “No explosives this time?” he asked, all polite offense. “I’m disappointed. I thought I’d taught you better—”

Thor started toward him, called, “Stop it, brother—!” but Barton’s expression was livid. Four more arrows sang through the air before Captain Rogers and Agent Romanoff managed to grab Barton’s arms.

Loki gestured; the Tesseract flared and a translucent half-dome of glowing blue energy materialized to shield both Loki and Jahanna from the barrage. Through the earpiece Thor heard Romanoff say to Barton, “Don’t, he’s trying to provoke you…”

Stark stepped forward, clanking armor drawing Loki’s attention away from Barton. “Okay, Wheatley, you and Chell here might think you’ve got free run of the labs,” Stark said, “but believe me, we are a hell of a lot more annoying than turrets and we will kick your ass.”

“…Assuredly,” Loki said dryly, with a pointed look around at them. To Jahanna he said, “Lady Eliatrope, if you will?”

“Oh hell no,” Stark snapped, raising his blasters to fire, and the Hulk roared, charging forward; the rest of them flung or fired their weapons but Jahanna had already opened a portal in front of her and Loki, and they disappeared through it, the Avengers’ attacks passing uselessly through empty air.

Chapter Text

“Overall,” Loki said as they emerged from the portal into Jahanna’s volcanic sanctuary, “an acceptable performance.” He held out his arm; Tikal glided down it and over to Jahanna.

“Acceptable?” Jahanna repeated. She was flushed with excitement, eyes bright. “I had them running in circles!”

“No,” Loki said, “you surprised them. Any man, facing an opponent with heretofore unknown abilities, will not do very well at first. And this group in particular takes… quite some time to gain traction.” She opened her mouth to retort, but he cut her off with an upraised hand. “You rely far too heavily on speed and surprise. My brother was already beginning to realize he could sense your portals if he tried, and while you need to be swift constantly, he needs speed but once.”

She crossed her arms, trying not to look like she was pouting. “Even if he managed to figure out where I would be next, Tikal’s watching my back.”

“Is he?” Loki asked mildly. “I learned the hard way that brothers cannot be relied upon.”

Her eyes narrowed. “It’s… different, with Tikal and me.”

She was pulling away, heading for her bedroom at the back of the cave. Loki followed, staying a little too close, and said, “Different? How? Because he is Tikal, and he would never betray you?”

“I… no, well, yes, but—”

“But nothing,” Loki said. “You must learn that you cannot rely on anyone for so irrelevant a reason as brotherhood or camaraderie or love.”

“Maybe,” Jahanna said. “But the bond between an Eliatrope and a… and her brother runs deeper than any of those things.”

It was the slip he’d been waiting for, and he didn’t hide the grin that spread over his face. “An Eliatrope and a what, exactly?” She drew breath but he didn’t wait for her to answer; he leaned down and whispered in her ear, low and triumphant. She jerked away, staring at him, eyes wide. He said, “You cannot keep secrets from me, Jahanna the Eliatrope. I will find them—”

There was a rush of air and suddenly between them stood a man: tall, broad-shouldered, muscular, wearing nothing but pale grey fisherman’s trousers. He had red skin and long black hair, and sharp black horns that curved back against his skull. White eyes, blank save for glowing Tesseract-blue pupils, met Loki’s, and a voice like tumbling rocks said, “Tikalukatal will not allow you to threaten his sister.”

Loki cackled, falling back a step so that he and Tikal were no longer nose to nose. “Oh, believe me,” he said. “I have not yet begun to threaten.”

Tikalukatal growled, but Jahanna put a hand on his arm and stepped out from behind him. “All right,” she said. “You figured it out. It doesn’t change anything.”

“It might,” Loki said. “If legend is to be believed, Tikal could simply stop Thanos on his own.” He raised an eyebrow at him. “What say you?”

“Tikalukatal is young still, and little tested,” Tikal rumbled, low enough that Loki felt his own bones vibrate. “Perhaps Phaeris or Adamaї or Grougaloragran, at the height of their power, could defeat a titan unassisted. But Tikalukatal will take no chances with such a dangerous enemy.”

Loki smirked. He couldn’t quite blame him; Loki himself didn’t dare face Thanos in open combat. “Still, having… one such as you on our side, that is a great boon,” he said.

Tikal’s chin lifted slightly, glowing blue pupils fixed on Loki. “You assume Tikalukatal desires to aid you. He sees what is in your heart, and while it is not evil, it is dangerous.”

“Your sister has agreed to help me,” Loki pointed out. He was careful to not look at Jahanna, who appeared increasingly annoyed. “She has offered your aid as well as hers.”

“She offered her aid and that of her familiar,” Tikal said. “Tikalukatal will honor that bargain as Tikal, but for him to do more than that—”

“Shall I offer you gold? Treasure for your hoard?” Loki asked. “I’m afraid I’m rather short of both at the moment.”

“It is not gold Tikalukatal seeks,” Tikal growled. “He fears what will happen should the cracks in your soul splinter further. Reassure him that you seek not just your master’s defeat but the healing of your soul, and he will consider extending his full aid.”

Loki’s chest tightened, and he forced his breath to come steady, unaffected. “That is the second time the two of you have described my soul thus. What makes you think I am so damaged?”

Jahanna and Tikal traded a glance, and Jahanna said carefully, “It’s like I said before: your wakfu is torn. Very badly.”

“You can see this,” Loki said, skeptical.

“It was a gift,” Jahanna said, “given to the Eliatropes by the dragons.”

“Well,” Loki said, “I can assure you, I do not intend to stay… as I am. Asgard has little use for a mad king.”

“Then you are aware you are mad,” Tikalukatal said.

Loki rolled his eyes. “Yes. Madness is, perhaps, inevitable when one tumbles through the void into the Chitauri’s tender mercies.”

“You think your madness will heal on its own,” Tikalukatal said, cocking his head like the bird whose shape he sometimes took. “As do your physical hurts.”

“You think it won’t?” Loki shot back. “I am no sniveling woman, who succumbs to hysterics—”

“Hey!” Jahanna protested, but Tikal was already stepping forward, too close, his body radiating a heat even greater than Jahanna’s, heat and power and magic. Loki fell back a step without meaning to, a snarl twisting his lips, tried to dodge but Tikal was too fast, his hand clamping down on Loki’s head—

They meant to break him, he knew that, for every beast must be broken to its master’s will. They wanted him to beg, to plead with them, but he would not, could not, it was not the Chitauri he wanted so desperately—

He was falling, void on all sides, or maybe he wasn’t falling, for what was falling in a place with neither up nor down? Lost, remembering Odin’s face, Odin’s words - “No, Loki,” - trying to convince himself his father – not his father – his father – had meant something different, something that did not tear and shred his heart—

Chitauri faces, twisted and hideous and crowned with metal, surrounding him on all sides, laughing, pointing, and he hurt, everywhere, inside and out, he wanted to die—

He was supposed to die, the fall into the void was supposed to kill him, no one could survive in the void, but he was Loki, the younger brother, the Jotun, the failure, and he couldn’t even kill himself properly—

He wanted to die, he should have died, please let me die, please, please, Father—!

Someone was screaming, raw and ragged, and it took too long for him to recognize his own voice. Tikalukatal let go and the world faded, swayed; he was on the ground without remembering how he got there, and Jahanna crouched beside him, eyes huge with worry. Tikalukatal stood behind her, his face impassive, his glowing blue pupils fixed on Loki with a terrible intensity.

“Such wounds do not heal without attention.” Tikalukatal’s voice rumbled through Loki, flesh and bone, the sound of a dormant volcano. Loki didn’t - couldn’t - respond, and after a moment Tikalukatal turned away, disappearing from his line of sight, a grim finality in the motion. Loki stayed where he was and tried to breathe past the razors in his chest, past the glass in his throat.

Eventually he realized Jahanna was smoothing the hair back from his forehead. Realized that his shoulder hurt where he’d apparently hit something on the way down. Realized that he could draw breath, if not painlessly, then at least steadily. He pushed himself up to his elbows, had to fight back a wave of dizziness before he could sit up fully. Jahanna sat back, watching him. He couldn’t read her expression.

“You’re not going to apologize for him?” he asked her. His voice was rough and hoarse (standing before Thanos, and it’s hard to sound like a king, like someone who can be trusted with the Tesseract, with his voice wrecked by screaming) and he swallowed.

“Should I?” Jahanna said. “He’s right.”

Loki winced. “Perhaps, but the way to fix something broken is not to break it further.”

“Sometimes it can be,” she said.

He shifted, drew one knee to his chest and wrapped an arm around it. Jahanna settled beside him, warm and comforting. He couldn’t help remembering how, when they had been small, he and Thor had sat thus, shoulders touching, reassuring each other that no Jotun lurked beneath their bed or in the shadows of the nursery. How later, when they’d been older, they had still sat thus, to discuss defeats on the battlefield or lost research trails. It surprised him, how much he missed it.

It hurt, to think how disgusted Thor must be to have been so near a monster.

As if hearing his thoughts, Jahanna wound her arm around his leg and threaded her fingers through his, breaking his white-knuckled grip. She said gently, “My brother may be harsh, but it’s because he believes you can heal.”

“Do you?”

“Do you?” she countered.

Loki narrowed his eyes. He had to wonder if this was how Thor or Sif or the Three had felt, when Loki had counseled them. “Is it your goal to pry out all my secrets?”

“You promised to learn all of mine.”

“So I did.” He sighed, ran his free hand over his face. “Perhaps we can call a truce on the extraction of secrets, at least for today. I have unfinished business on Midgard.”

She blinked, confused. “You got the Time Gem.”

“The humans have something else I want.”

“What?”

Loki smiled a little, remembering what he’d seen in the Midgardian facility. “Something Thanos’s lieutenant gave me. A very…useful gift.” At her skeptical look, he said, “Among other things, it allows me to report to Thanos on our progress without needing to travel physically to his realm.”

“Ah,” she said, understanding dawning on her face. “That is useful.”

“Indeed.” His thoughts skittered away from the idea of reporting at all, of facing the Other with or without the protection of distance, but it had to be done, sooner rather than later lest Thanos become impatient. “I’ll need the Tesseract,” he added.

She looked up. “You’re going alone?”

“It shouldn’t be difficult,” he said. “Besides, you need to rest.” She opened her mouth to protest and he continued over her, “Vanaheim will be difficult, and I’d prefer you be at your best.”

He could tell she wasn’t happy, but she nodded, and called the Tesseract from its perch on the back of a chair. It settled on Loki’s shoulder, and he considered it for a moment. “I am not fond of the butterfly,” he admitted.

“Not dignified enough?” Jahanna asked, the corner of her mouth quirking.

He glared. “It does lack a certain… gravitas, yes.”

“So change it,” she said, and it was his turn to look surprised. “It’s easy,” she added. “It’s supposed to teach children to use their powers, remember? The method to change its shape is the foundation for a lot of the things you can do with the Eliacube.”

His breath caught again, not in fear this time but desire. Understanding the Tesseract: information lost since ages past, power beyond anything the Nine Realms remembered. The kind of knowledge Loki had spent his life gathering, the kind of knowledge that he hungered for more than anything.

He whispered, “Show me.”

Chapter Text

Director Fury did not live up to his name, at least not visibly. He jumped lightly from the helicopter and strode across the courtyard to where the Avengers waited, coming to a stop with his feet spread and hands clasped behind his back as always. Except that he very pointedly did not look at them, ignored them completely in favor of a soft-looking SHIELD agent in a neat black suit who’d come running out from inside the lab, through the swarm of emergency personnel that had appeared with Fury to descend on the building. The deliberate snub was a far harsher rebuke than if he had simply yelled at them.

To the agent, Fury snapped, “Report.” The rage that his body hid so well was betrayed by his voice, a barely-controlled fury that had the agent flinching backward.

“Er,” he stammered. “He, uh, the target, uh, Loki, he got the gem—”

“So I heard,” Fury said. “Casualties?”

“Um. Two? And one fatality—”

Fury blinked, mirroring Thor’s own surprise. After Loki and his companion had vanished, the Avengers had taken a few minutes to gather themselves. Agent Barton had given in to the nausea and any number of emotions at which Thor could only guess; Agent Romanoff hadn’t looked much happier. Banner seemed to require some time to come down from his bestial state, while Rogers and Stark had immediately got in contact with the Helicarrier, and been informed that Director Fury was already on his way via chopper.

Thor had been left to stare helplessly at the spot where his brother had disappeared. He kept seeing Loki’s face, the way he’d lit up with joy to see Thor brought low, the softer look he’d given his companion. He’d taunted Thor’s friends, taunted Thor, and it hadn’t been the borderline-sane barbs from a few days ago. He’d been relaxed, and at the time Thor had feared that it was because Loki had taken out some of that desperate madness on the people inside the SHIELD lab. But now…

“Only one fatality?” Director Fury repeated, incredulous.

“Ah, yessir,” the agent said. “Um. He— that is, the subject, he said when he came in that, quote, ‘No one need die today. Stay out of my way, and I will not harm you.’ End quote. Um. The three that were hurt, they, uh, they got in his way. Um. He threw Pete through a window, and choked Agent Collins, and, um. Impaled Agent Kreager on a spectrometer.”

“I thought those things were square,” Fury said.

“Um. They uh, have corners, sir. Agent Kreager was, um, the fatality.”

“My orders were to delay him,” Fury said. “Those three are the only ones who tried?”

“The rest of us, uh, we tried talking, first. And then he, um, he sort of delayed himself? He saw something on one of the computers and stopped for a good five minutes to look at it. We, um, that is, none of us wanted to interrupt him…”

“I see. What was he looking at on that computer?”

“Er… I don’t know, sir, he, that is, that’s when Pete and the others attacked, and he, um, he threw it at them—”

“I suggest,” Fury said, “that you find out. Quickly.”

“Sir!” The agent took off running back into the lab. Only then did the director turn to the Avengers, his one eye expectant.

Captain Rogers stepped forward before anyone else could. “I’m sorry, sir,” he said quickly. “We underestimated Loki’s new companion. We couldn’t get past her in time.”

“Companion,” Fury repeated. “The catgirl from Stark’s security feed?”

“Yessir,” Rogers said. “She had… powers, I guess, nothing like what we’ve seen before. I don’t know what she is—”

“He called her ‘Eliatrope’,” Thor interrupted.

“That mean something to you, Mister Odinson?” Fury asked.

Thor hesitated. “I’m not sure. I know the word, but…”

“But?” Stark demanded. “Don’t tell me it’s some kind of weird kinky Asgardian—Hey!” as Banner thumped hard on the side of the metal suit, giving Stark a shut-up glare.

Thor decided he probably didn’t want to know what Stark had been about to say. “But,” he said, “it’s impossible. The Eliatropes vanished long before the rise of Asgard.”

“Looked awfully real to me,” Stark said, and Banner elbowed him again.

“What do you know about them?” Fury asked.

“I’d been researching them,” Thor said. “I was looking for a way to repair the Bifrost, and Loki told me, a long time ago, that the Eliatropes were the ones who originally built it. They’re said to be the children of dragons, although my brother’s notes say that ‘siblings’ might be a better translation…”

The others were staring at him. A bit defensively, he said, “It is nearly impossible to find a book in Asgard’s libraries, especially if it involves magic, that Loki has not thoroughly annotated.”

“Actually, I’m more worried about the dragon part,” Stark said.

“Why?” Agent Romanoff asked. “You thought those Chitauri whales were a party.”

“Giant flying whale ships are one thing,” Stark said. “Giant flying fire-breathing dragons are totally different.”

“Have no fear, Man of Iron,” Thor said, amused. “Dragons – true dragons such as you describe – went extinct around the time the Eliatropes vanished.”

“Loki dug up an Eliatrope from somewhere,” Rogers pointed out. “What’s to say he won’t find a dragon, too?”

“It’s unlikely she’s truly an Eliatrope,” Thor said. “As I said, none have been seen in several ages—”

“Sir!” The young SHIELD agent reappeared at Fury’s elbow, slightly out of breath. “We think we know what was on that computer!”

“You think, or you know?” Fury said.

The agent gulped. “Er—one of the techs was working at that terminal when the, uh, the target broke in, and, um, he said he’d been looking at the preliminary data on Artifact codename Abomination—”

Tony Stark and Agent Barton both tensed; Fury had gone still. Thor felt his stomach sink even as Captain Rogers demanded, “What’s that? What is it?”

“Loki’s scepter,” Fury said.

“He didn’t have it with him when he came out of the building,” Rogers said.

“He’s going to find it,” Thor said grimly.

“You don’t know that,” Agent Romanoff said.

“I know my brother,” Thor all but snarled. “Where is the scepter now?”

“Stark Tower,” Fury said.

Thor turned an incredulous look on Stark, who held up his hands in a placating gesture. “Look, his portal doohickey is there too, and my labs are at least as good as anything SHIELD has—”

Thor shook his head, growling. “It should have been destroyed,” he said, and pulled Mjölnir from his belt. “Now that Loki knows where it is, he’ll go after it as well.”

“Why?” Banner asked. “He’s already got the Infinity Gem, what does he need the scepter for?”

“My brother,” Thor said, and spun Mjölnir, “has always been possessive.” He hurled the hammer, let it carry him up into the air toward the clouds, toward Stark Tower. He heard his companions call after him, and ignored them. He was done waiting for the mortals to talk everything to death – his brother was out there somewhere, and Thor wouldn’t let him escape again.

Chapter Text

Thor rarely made use of Mjölnir’s full speed. Doing so was tiring, for one, both physically and mentally; and tended to leave behind persistent oddities in the weather patterns that resulted in complaints to Odin by Asgard’s farmers and merchants. In addition, of his companions both Aesir and Midgardian, none could keep up with him when he flew at speed, and for all that Loki – and Odin, and Sif – accused him of being reckless, Thor knew better than to fly into a combat so far ahead of his friends that he must fight alone. It was why he had stayed with the Avengers on their jet on the way to Alabama.

It was why Loki had escaped.

So Thor flew, heedless of the tearing clouds in his wake, heedless of anything save that Loki would be at Stark Tower sooner rather than later, and nothing mattered more than Thor being there when he arrived. He landed breathless in the center of the tower’s odd painted circle, his arm vibrating from his grip on Mjölnir; spun around, tense, half-expecting Loki to appear from thin air, all lazy smirk and mocking words.

Someone did step out, then, from behind the temporary coverings blocking a broken wall: a woman, red-haired, tall and slim and elegant in tailored Midgardian finery. Despite wearing shoes with high narrow heels, she moved gracefully across the debris-strewn roof to stop a few feet away from Thor, smiling politely.

“Thor Odinson?” she said. “I’m Pepper Potts, executive assistant to Mr. Stark.”

“Well met,” he answered, a little thrown. His entire being sang with readiness for battle; he had not expected to be making polite conversation.

“Mister Stark let us know you were on your way,” Lady Pepper said briskly. “I’ve arranged to have the floors immediately above and below us evacuated, and our security people are blocking off the streets in case of falling debris. You won’t need to worry about civilians, if things get… combative. And the scepter should be brought up here shortly.”

It occurred to Thor, belatedly, that his mouth was hanging open. Before he could quite gather his wits, Lady Pepper added, “I’ve been working for Mister Stark for some time, Mister Odinson. I had to learn quickly how to deal with unexpected attacks by powerful people.”

“Er,” Thor managed. “Yes, I see.” Then the rest of her words caught up with him. “You said Loki’s scepter is being brought here? Don’t you have a vault, a treasury, someplace where we can more easily guard it?”

Lady Pepper smiled. “We do have a vault, but Doctor Selvig said that it would be less safe inside it. –I’ll let him explain.”

She glanced over her shoulder and Thor looked past her to see Erik Selvig pick his way through the hanging window coverings. He clutched a long, heavy black box to his chest – presumably the scepter – and his face lit up when he saw Thor.

“Well, if it isn’t my good friend Donald!” he called.

Thor grinned. “Well met, Doctor,” he said. He met Selvig halfway across the roof, taking the box from him. Selvig was visibly relieved to be rid of it, though whether because the box was heavy for a mortal, or from more troubling burdens, Thor couldn’t say. He found a strap along one side of the box and slung it over his shoulder, settling it to balance Mjölnir at his hip.

Selvig was saying, “It’s good to see you again, Thor. I didn’t get a chance…”

“No,” Thor said, “it was I who should have sought you out. I’m…. I’m sorry. For what my brother has done to you.”

Selvig shook his head. “It’s not your fault.”

“It is,” Thor said, and felt again the ache in his heart. “My brother lashes out because I hurt him, though I do not understand how—”

“No,” Selvig said. He put a hand on Thor’s shoulder, met his eyes. “You can’t take the blame for this. It doesn’t help anyone except Loki.”

Thor looked away, not quite able to form a reply. Instead, he straightened his shoulders and said, “The Lady Pepper says you believe the scepter will be safer outside their vault. I’d rather have as many obstacles between it and my brother as possible.”

Selvig was already shaking his head. “Thing is,” he said, “putting it in a vault would help him more. This thing is connected to the Tesseract, remember? Ms. Potts said Loki has the Tesseract, so he could just… just appear inside the vault, same as he did inside the SHIELD base when he had the scepter but not the cube. He’d take the scepter and be gone again before you could get into the vault to stop him.”

“…I see.”

Lady Pepper, who had retreated to a polite distance with one hand to a Midgardian earpiece, took the opportunity to step forward once more, and said, “Mister Stark informs me that he’ll be here in about half an hour. He hopes to make it before anything happens.” From the twinkle in her eyes, Stark’s language had been rather more colorful than that.

Thor frowned at her. “Why is he coming here? They should make all haste to the other Infinity Gem.”

“I’m afraid you’ll have to ask Mister Stark when he arrives,” Lady Pepper said. “He didn’t tell me what he’s planning.”

Thor nodded. Took a deep breath, scanned around the roof. Said, “My brother is likely to be here any moment. You both should leave. Get someplace safe.”

“Be careful,” Selvig said. Lady Pepper gave him a polite, businesslike nod, and they both headed back inside the tower.

Thor waited.

And waited.

Five minutes passed, then ten. Thor’s eyes ached from staring around the roof, alert to every flutter of motion. Unease curled in his gut: where was Loki? He’d been sure his brother would come after the scepter immediately, with the certainty of having known him all his life. Loki would do anything to get an advantage in a fight, and Thor couldn’t imagine that Loki would go after another of the Infinity Gems without the scepter, now that he knew where it could be found. Yet as the minutes crawled by and Loki didn’t appear, Thor began to worry that perhaps he’d been wrong. He’d known the Loki of old, but the Loki who had come back from the void was changed – and perhaps this was one of those changes.

“Man of Iron?”

It felt strange, talking to empty air – too much like one of Loki’s tricks – but after a moment his earpiece clicked and Tony Stark answered, “Hey there, Speedy Gonzales. Don’t tell me he’s been and gone already, I’m coming as fast as I can.”

“No,” Thor admitted. “He has not yet arrived.”

“Oh. Good. That’s good, right?” Stark said. “Better for you to beat him there than the other way ‘round.”

“Yes, I suppose so.”

“Then why do you sound like someone knocked your ice cream off its cone?”

“You speak more colorfully than a bard,” Thor said, then, more reluctantly, “I fear that I may have misjudged my brother’s intent. I thought I knew him, but now…”

“Now he’s gone crazy and you aren’t sure what he’s going to do,” Stark finished. “Look, man, we get that he’s your kid brother, you love him, all that Dr. Phil stuff. But… He tried to destroy New York. Tried to take over the world. Tried to kill you a couple times. In case you missed that part.”

“…Yes.” Thor sighed and dragged a hand through his hair. “I don’t understand, what does he think he’s doing—!”

Silence for a moment over the earpiece, then Stark said quietly, “You said last week that you’d thought he was dead. That you haven’t seen him in over a year. Where was he?”

“He fell… no,” Thor corrected himself. “He chose to fall, into the void beyond the Bifrost. The empty space between the realms. We had thought no one could survive in there…”

“But not only did Loki survive, he found an army of freaky biotech aliens,” Stark said. He sighed, audible even over the earpiece. “I keep saying it, but every time I turn around it’s more true. Me and your brother… When I disappeared and everyone thought I was dead, I came back with the Mark I suit.”

“Did you change?” Thor asked, unable to help himself.

“Well,” Stark said, “that was when I decided being a genius billionaire playboy living off my father’s war fortune was boring and decided to take up philanthropy.”

His voice had the same light tone that Loki sometimes got when he was being particularly self-disparaging. Thor remembered how Captain Rogers had thought so very little of Stark at first, and he wondered what it meant, that Stark had changed for the better after being lost, and Loki had changed for the worse. “What would you do,” he asked, “if you were Loki?”

“I’d be heading straight for that scepter,” Stark said. “Which is why I’m heading straight for that scepter.”

Thor made himself take a breath. “And the others?”

“Well, let’s face it, of the six of us, only you and the Jolly Green Giant are really capable of stopping your brother,” Stark said. “I mean, I might be able to slow him down, but I figure I won’t be able to actually, you know, put any more of a dent in him than I did in you back in that forest. And Steve and the two agents, well, they’re good, they’re really good, but…”

“But they’re mortal,” Thor said.

“Yeah,” Stark agreed. “So Steve made the call, he and Bruce and the Wonder Twins are on their way to New Mexico, just in case you and I can’t stop him and he heads there next.”

“Good,” Thor said. “We’ll—”

A shock like lightning sparked along his spine and he froze, senses straining, only half-aware of Stark calling his name in the earpiece. Magic crackled in the air, thick enough to taste. He yanked Mjölnir from his belt and raised it, braced, searching the roof…

A crack like thunder and a flash of heat and light, focused on the box on Thor’s back and blasting a good fifteen paces along the roof to an open space in the middle of the painted circle. He blinked, trying to clear his vision. The afterglare faded, revealing a slim dark silhouette, bent to one knee, in the circle’s center. Green eyes met Thor’s and Loki smiled, slow and sharp and vicious.

“Well,” he said. “Hello, brother.”

Chapter Text

“Loki,” Thor said. He kept his voice even, his body still, waiting for Loki to indicate how this encounter would go.

His brother stood up, all long limbs and royal grace, teeth bared in that terrible smile. The Tesseract sat on his shoulder, in the form of a sleek bird – a jay, perhaps, or a magpie. “I’ll admit,” he said, “I didn’t expect you to have the foresight to be here.”

“I’ll not let you have the scepter,” Thor said. “It’s a tool of corruption. It’s—”

“—evil?” Loki interrupted. “Of course. The Chitauri created it, after all.” He began to circle Thor, slowly, and they had sparred enough that Thor knew his brother sought an opening.

He shifted his weight, keeping Mjölnir between himself and Loki. “Then why seek it?” he asked. “It’s nothing like you—”

Loki’s laugh was pure derision. “I’m Jotun, you idiot. I think it’s perfectly appropriate.”

“No,” Thor said. “Brother, I do not know what happened to you, but I know you, and you aren’t evil.”

“Impressive,” Loki purred. “You can say that with a straight face after I murdered one of your precious Midgardian pets right under your nose?”

Thor sucked in a breath through his teeth. His grip creaked on Mjölnir, and he made himself swallow his first retort, and his second. Choked back the rage, the call for revenge in his blood, because that was what Loki was trying to provoke. He said through gritted teeth, “Who directs you, Loki? Who guides your hand to such terrible deeds? The woman Jahanna?”

Loki laughed again, still bitter, and there was something in his expression Thor couldn’t read. “No,” he said. “My lady Jahanna is a recent acquisition. We met in Asgard’s treasury, as a matter of fact.”

“Then who?” Thor demanded, and threw down his trump. “Who commands the would-be king?”

It worked – after a fashion. Loki charged him, sudden and wild with his knives in his hands, and roared, “I am a king!”

Thor caught his attack with Mjölnir, the clash ringing over the rooftop, and they spun apart. He saw movement to his side and swung the hammer, but it was an illusion, and vanished the moment he touched it. He let the momentum of the swing carry him all the way around, barely in time to swat aside a blade flung at his head.

Loki was across the roof, the Tesseract in bird form fluttering over his head. He was breathing too hard for such a brief exchange, and his smile had gone jagged. More knives glittered between his fingers. “Give me the scepter,” he said. “You cannot hope to understand my goals.”

“Come home,” Thor countered. “Leave this place, leave the one who would command you.”

Loki snarled, hands coming up to fling the knives – but Thor had sparred his brother their whole lives, and he knew this play. He made as if to toss Mjölnir, then at the last instant, when Loki didn’t dodge, pulled the throw and swung in a wide arc instead. The hammer dashed the illusory knives from the air and then, suddenly, collided with something solid.

Loki’s breath left him in a pained grunt as the blow sent him flying across the roof, his veil shattered, his double vanishing. He landed on his back and skidded, finally coming to a stop by the far edge. Thor braced for him to spring to his feet, to come charging at him again, but Loki didn’t move. He lay on his back, knees bent, whole body shaking violently.

Thor was halfway to him before he realized that Loki wasn’t choking on a crushed ribcage, but laughing – an ugly, wrenching sound that seemed to be trying to tear him to pieces. He was staring straight up, and his smile was a terrible broken thing. He didn’t move as Thor approached, and Thor could see tears glittering in his eyes.

“Brother…?” he said.

“I could lie here,” Loki said, and his voice was worse than his laughter, “I could lie here and let you beat me to a paste, and if he were to come it would be only to spare your precious feelings from the guilt of killing me.”

“Loki, what are you talking about?”

“He started a war to save you from the Jotun,” Loki whispered. “He woke from an unwakeable sleep to save you from the void.” He turned his head slightly, green eyes finding Thor’s, and the look in them froze Thor to the core. “But me? No. He’d never save me. He watched me fall and he was glad to be rid of the Jotun pretender in the house of Odin.”

“What… no!” Thor said, horrified. “Father mourned you, Loki. He was heartsick when you fell, he could barely stand to be at the funeral—”

Loki bolted upright, coming to his feet barely a hand’s-breadth from Thor, eyes wild and fierce. “The funeral?” he hissed. “Funeral? No, it was a celebration of my death—”

Thor gaped at him. “Funerals are a celebration of life—”

“THERE IS NOTHING ABOUT MY LIFE WORTH CELEBRATING!”

Thor grabbed Loki by the shoulders, startling him into silence. But Thor had half-expected another illusion; the surprise of his fingers closing on solid flesh caught him off-guard as well, and the uncertainty whether to shake his brother or embrace him and never let go made him hesitate for just an instant.

But this was Loki, fast and agile and cunning, and an instant was far too long. He twisted free of Thor’s grip, backing away, body poised and tense like a frightened animal. Thor didn’t dare move – he didn’t understand what had caused Loki to crack so terribly, to go from angry but rational to utterly insane, and he feared any action he took would make it worse.

For a moment they faced each other, frozen; then Loki drew in a deep shuddering breath, and it was as if he pulled on a mask: his face became calm once more, his posture straightening. He licked his lips, swallowed, and smiled, bright and wide. “I think,” Loki said, his voice as casual as if they discussed some inconsequential gossip from the servants’ quarters, “I should have a talk with Tikal about what it means to fix something.”

And just like that, the Loki Thor knew was back: all grace and silver words and the casual poise Thor had always envied. Thor said carefully, “Brother, you know I can’t let you have the scepter. Whatever you want with it, whatever you want with the Tesseract and the gauntlet and the gems, I won’t let you do it.”

“Of course not,” Loki said, and if the mockery in his voice still held a bitter edge at least it wasn’t that terrible madness. “You know what I am now, you could never let a Jotun touch artifacts of such power.”

“That has nothing to do with it!” Thor shouted. “Just stop this, Loki, come home—!”

The knife struck his shoulder in the joint of his armor, its narrow point biting deep, though the Loki in front of him – an illusion – hadn’t moved. He howled, as much in rage as in pain, and spun, searching for a hint of his brother, some sign of where Loki hid himself beneath a veil—

—but the illusion was still there, too, and it charged, sending him dodging to the side on pure reflex—

—even as another Loki appeared beside him, knives flashing, and Thor threw himself back—

—and found himself surrounded by Lokis, a dozen of them, two dozen, more even than on the Bifrost, and they were all perfect copies, with none of the telltale flickers or gold outlines that had always before showed when Loki stretched his magic too far. Thor swung Mjölnir, but though he could feel the electric shock of magic course through the hammer, he connected with nothing solid. The illusions were all moving, not in synchrony as they always had previously, but each independently so that he had to dodge all of them, spinning and rolling and twisting to avoid razor-edged knives that may or may not have been real.

He struck back when he could, his hammer never finding solid purchase but dissipating double after double, only for them to be replaced the moment he turned away. He roared a battle cry, but the laughter of a score of Lokis, bitter and mocking and joyous and resentful all at once, drowned it out. He had to do something or Loki would win, would defeat him and take the scepter and rend worlds with his madness—

“Thor! Drop!”

Centuries of battle training had Thor diving to the ground almost before he registered Tony Stark’s words over his earpiece. Blasts of light shot past above him, even as he felt a tug on the strap of the box on his back, even as he heard Loki cry out. He rolled over in time to see Loki, the real one, his veil broken, go flying again – but also the box, its strap severed by his brother’s knives. It landed badly on one corner, the lid popping open, and a terrible dark magic flooded the roof as the Chitauri scepter tumbled out, its gem glittering malevolently.

Loki caught himself and lunged for the scepter – but Stark’s iron suit dropped from the sky to land between them, and Loki came up short. He studied Stark for a moment as if he was a particularly interesting insect. “Fascinating,” Loki murmured. “Midgardian mechanical eyes can see through my illusions.” He grinned. “I’ll have to remember that.”

“Not quite as useless as you thought, huh?” Stark said. He raised his arms to point all his weapons at him, as Thor moved to stand by Stark’s side, the scepter a slithering malicious pressure at his back. “I’m getting really sick of finding you in my tower, pal,” Stark continued. “How about you surrender nice and easy and I’ll even ask Fury if you can have something comfier than that glass cage.”

“Are you so sure you want to invite me back to your flying war base?” Loki asked innocently. “The last time I was your guest, you had an unfortunate accident with the engines, and your friend Phil had an unfortunate accident with my scepter.”

The iron suit flinched, Stark’s sharp intake of breath audible in Thor’s earpiece, and Thor growled. But Stark snapped, “Stop trying to provoke us, Hannibal. It won’t work.”

“Oh, well then,” Loki said, and Thor shifted, uneasy; this was Loki when he’d already won, when he had his opponents right where he wanted them and a carefully-crafted plan was about to go off. “It’s good I wasn’t trying to provoke you.” Loki grinned, sudden and victorious. “Just distract you.”

He dove to the side, toward the curving edge of the roof. Stark shouted and fired at him even as Thor felt magic crackle along his spine, even as he spun around to see the Tesseract, still in a bird’s shape, swoop low to snatch up the scepter in its talons. He swatted at it with Mjölnir but the bird dodged, impossibly swift despite carrying a burden some ten times its size. Loki went over the edge of the roof, falling, and the bird followed with the scepter. Stark dove after them but Thor had already felt the flash of power, the crack of air suddenly displaced. He didn’t have to look over the edge, or hear Stark’s curse, to know that Loki, scepter, and Tesseract were gone.

Chapter Text

Loki returned to Jahanna’s lair to find her asleep on a couch, Tikalukatal nowhere to be seen. He didn’t rouse her; he didn’t need her for this and she would only be overprotective at him. Bad enough the sidelong glances and gentler-than-usual tone while she’d shown him how to change the Tesseract’s shape – he’d all but fled to the mortal realm to escape it. He didn’t want to see how she’d react if the Other decided to give another demonstration of the consequences of failure.

Instead, he opened the great stone doors and stepped onto the ledge circling the interior of the volcanic crater, heat striking him like Thor’s hammer. He started down the curve of the ledge toward the lower caves, but a hunting cry sounded overhead and he turned to see a great red eagle, thrice the size of a man, swoop down into the crater. He didn’t hesitate, but leaped from the ledge to land on the eagle’s back, and Tikal caught an updraft and carried him up and out of the crater. The land spread out below them, the sloped rocky surface of the volcano broadening to a lush forest to one side of its base. On the other, a vast tract of water lapped at the stone: a great lake, perhaps, or an ocean. The sun had just begun to set on the far side of the water, painting the sky a rainbow of reds and oranges and pinks.

He’d asked Jahanna, his first night in her home while they ate a dinner of roasted meat and vegetables, what realm this was. She’d considered him for a moment, and he knew she was trying to decide how much to tell him. Finally she’d said, “This world and its sun are a realm of their own, forgotten even by the dragons. Qilby and Shinonome found it, a long time ago, though they were never able to discover who created it or why.”

“A haven,” he’d said. “A place to hide from the universe.”

Her mouth had quirked. “Something like that,” she’d agreed, and said no more.

Loki remembered her words now, as he settled himself on Tikal’s back, scepter in one hand. A safe place, where one could escape one’s enemies.

Or memories.

“If you wish to speak to me, do it now,” he said to Tikal. His voice came out steady and commanding, not panicked or pleading or mad. Good. “I have words of my own for you.”

“Would you listen, if Tikalukatal spoke?” Tikal answered. His voice sounded inside Loki’s head without ever passing through his ears.

“That depends on what you have to say,” Loki said. “Are you going to prattle on at length about my shattered mind? Or perhaps warn me about the scepter—”

“Tikalukatal would warn you, if he thought you cared,” Tikal said. “But he also knows that sometimes dark tools are necessary for dread work.”

“Are all your kind so dramatic?”

“Every creature must have a flaw,” Tikal said, and Loki grinned despite himself. “But a warning delivered dramatically still carries the consequences of one delivered plainly.”

“Perhaps,” Loki said. “But you’re right. The scepter is a necessary tool, especially if you wish to keep your sister as far from the Chitauri as possible.”

It was the right thing to say; Tikal growled, the sound vibrating up through Loki’s body, and didn’t press the issue. Loki waited a few moments, watching the waves crash on the shore below, before saying, “You must undo whatever you did to me. I cannot afford to be so vulnerable, not when we have the Chitauri and a titan and my brother to fight.”

“Tikalukatal did nothing save peel back the scars that twist your soul.”

“They were there for a reason,” Loki said dryly. “Scars must form for a wound to heal.”

“Scars can interfere with healing, if they grow too large or too unyielding.”

“Then what would you have me do?”

“Heal,” Tikal said simply.

Loki glared at the back of his feathered head. “It is not so easy—!”

“Little is, which is worth doing.”

Loki fell silent, recognizing an argument he wouldn’t win. Disagree he might, but the truth of the matter was that he needed their help if he wanted to take down Thanos, and this was the price Tikal had set.

They were still flying, following the gentle curve of the beach below. The ocean – it was too vast to be anything but – spread out to the side, and Loki stared for a time at waves colored like fire from the sunset, trying to calm his racing thoughts. The encounter with Thor had left him raw and unsettled, and the conversation with Tikalukatal had only made it worse. He needed to be calm, controlled before he risked contacting the Other.

At least Tikal seemed content to carry him in silence, and after a time the combination of waves and beach and the forest beyond – so unlike the shining spires of Asgard or the metal and mirrors of Earth, and most importantly nothing at all like the rocky void of the Chitauri realm – eased the worst of the madness singing through him. He stilled his mind, that at least coming easy after a lifetime of practice, and tapped into the power of the scepter.

The sunset beach melted away, replaced by pitted, jagged stone and a vast emptiness. At the sight of it Loki nearly lost control again, the torn edges of his soul screaming in pain and terror where Tikal had ripped them apart, and he took a deep breath (felt a touch of power, hot and red and steady like a molten stream, not alone, never alone again) and wrestled back the fear. His projected self shimmered into being with a whisper of effort, fully armored, though armor mattered little against the Other’s power.

He waited, standing at attention. He’d expected the Other to be waiting for him, impatient for news, but he found himself alone, disregarded, and couldn’t decide whether he was glad for the time to harden his resolve, or insulted (afraid) to be so ignored. Giving in to impatience, he moved to the edge of the rock, looking out over the realm. To his surprise, he saw a dozen Chitauri warbeasts in the distance, lined up against the sides of a vast hive-ship and loaded down with soldiers. More Chitauri swarmed over the warbeasts and the hive-ship like ants from a kicked nest.

Preparing for war.

He sensed more than heard the Other appear behind him; without turning he said, “I appreciate your faith in me, but it will be several days yet before I retrieve the last of the gems.”

The Other laughed, a low ugly hiss. “This army is not for you,” he said. “When He has the completed Gauntlet, then you will see the true might of the Chitauri.”

Loki glanced over his shoulder at him, then turned back to watch the massed army. The Other continued, “No, this army is for a more… personal target.”

“I did not think He would be so crude as to hold grudges,” Loki said carefully, probing.

“He is far beyond your comprehension, little king-child. He has seen an opportunity too dear to pass up. A realm which owes Him a great blood-price—”

Loki made the connection in a flash of understanding, and a cold deeper even than the Casket of Ancient Winters flooded through him. He whispered, “Asgard.”

The Other laughed again. “Ye-e-e-es,” he hissed. “Its patron asleep from the effort of twice breaching the barrier between realms through naught save force of will. Its crown prince trapped a world away, fighting for a people not his own. And its rightful king” —gleeful mockery in the Other’s voice— “turned traitor, aiding those who bring its destruction.”

He was suddenly very, very glad the Other could not see his face, as the screaming clawing panic rose up inside him (seeing the horror in Odin’s eye as he takes in what Loki has wrought), and only the warmth of Tikal’s magic against his own kept him from breaking down completely. Odin he would gladly see torn down (father not my father, why didn’t you tell me?), and Thor too, but all Asgard did not deserve such a fate—

“You should be pleased,” the Other purred, close enough that Loki twitched before he could catch himself. “Is this not what you sought?”

“What makes you think I am not pleased?” Loki said, and even managed to make it sound casual, unconcerned. “I am not my brother, to leap and sing in joy.”

The Other’s hand came to rest on Loki’s shoulder, fingers spreading to just brush the nape of his neck, clammy and unnatural, and he leaned in still closer. “Then you will have no problem opening the portal for us.”

“None at all,” Loki whispered.

“Good,” the Other said.

“Though I must retrieve the Tesseract,” Loki made himself add, “and travel to Asgard with the Eliatrope to open it.”

The Other’s fingers tightened ever so slightly, the gesture an obscene parody of the way Thor used to cup Loki’s neck when he was being earnest, and Loki fought a shiver. The Other said, “Then hurry,” and broke the connection with a lance of power that sheared straight through Loki’s head.

Pain shot through him, and vertigo as he lost his grip on the spell; when he opened his eyes to see star-studded darkness spinning above him, his tenuous grip on his control slipped and he screamed—

falling, tumbling, void on all sides, cold and darkness and pain and crushing emptiness, alone, abandoned, unwanted, someone, please, anyone…!

—a crack and snap and suddenly solid ground beneath him, something vast and red and fire-hot surrounding him, blocking out the night sky and the breeze and the memories alike. Tikalukatal rumbled, catlike, the sound too deep to be heard but vibrating up from the sand below, from forelimbs wrapped close around him, from a long throat arching overhead. In his true form he really was magnificent, and a tiny part of Loki’s mind not reeling from madness wished desperately for a chance to study him more closely.

Gradually, the panic subsided, the nauseous twisting fading to a dull disquiet. In its place came the frustration, the helpless rage at his own weakness, and he snarled, “Damn, damn, damn damn damn!,” slamming a fist into Tikalukatal’s red-scaled arm until a talon bigger than he was nudged him gently.

“There is no shame in fear,” Tikalukatal said, and again his voice bypassed Loki’s ears and went straight to his brain.

“No?” Loki demanded. “No shame? No, there’s weakness in fear. Weakness a king cannot afford, I cannot afford—”

“Tikalukatal fears,” he said calmly. “Do you think him weak?”

“How could I?” Loki said, and gestured, taking in the whole of him. “How could you possibly be weak?”

A pop of air and the massive body vanished, and Loki shivered at the abrupt exposure to the open night air. At his feet, in the tiny sleek form of an ermine, Tikal asked, “Is Tikalukatal weak now, though he remains the same in all but shape?”

Loki hesitated, and Tikal shifted again, this time to a man’s body. He said, “To be small is not to be weak, and neither to fear. You call your brother strong. Do you think he never feels fear?”

Loki opened his mouth and closed it again, caught; before he could come up with an answer Tikal gripped his shoulder. “You are not what others name you, whether that is weak or fearful or unworthy, or even strong or brave or honorable. You are what you make yourself.”

There was reassurance in Tikal’s voice, but something else beside; had Loki not still been reeling he might have been able to discern it, but as it was he filed it away for later. He pulled away from Tikal’s touch, passed a hand over his face. The mention of his brother had reminded him of the Other’s instructions, and his admonition to hurry. “We can speak more later. There is a task I must perform for the Chitauri.”

Tikal eyed him for a moment, wakfu-lit pupils unreadable, but relented. “What task?”

“I need the Eliacube,” Loki said. With a goal to pursue, a plan to implement, he did not feel so lost, so desperate, and his voice was steadier. “I’ll explain on the way.”

Chapter Text

“That doesn’t even make sense—”

“It’s magic, is it supposed to make sense?”

“It’s not magic, Doctor Selvig built a machine to do basically the same thing.”

“That doesn’t mean it isn’t magic—”

“Actually, the warping of the gamma radiation field caused by the forceful overlap of two opposing polarities would generate a static frequency backlash—”

“—which could theoretically manifest as a directed beam depending on the original stability field of the source.”

Stark’s entrance into the room and the conversation was, as usual, enough to silence everyone else. Thor was behind him, brooding and dark like a caged thunderstorm, and the little conference room in the underground New Mexico lab suddenly felt a lot smaller. Stark traded a knowing glance with Dr. Banner, and Natasha decided that if Stark could finish Banner’s sentence without knowing the context of the discussion, it was probably something the two of them had talked about already – though when, in between fighting Loki’s portal-wielding companion and rushing off to different corners of the country, she couldn’t guess. Then Stark said, “So what are we talking about?” and Natasha clapped a hand over her eyes with a sigh.

“Here,” Banner said, and nodded at the big screen at the end of the room, where an image of Jahanna hung in freeze-frame captured from a security video. He backed the tape up and ran it forward in slow motion, and they watched again as she came flying up out of a portal – “So it’s not first-in first-out,” Stark muttered. “She went in feet first and came out head first” – and fired a blast of energy at Steve.

“Back it up again,” Clint said impatiently. Banner obeyed, and played it once more, frame by frame. “There,” Clint said, and pointed.

Even slowed down this much, it was hard to see; Jahanna was fast, and the glowing portals played havoc with the film, their bright flare making all of them wince and squint. But still, it was clear that she generated a portal from each hand, then slotted them down on top of each other in order to fire the beam.

“It’s not a weapon,” Steve said. “I thought she was using something like Loki’s staff, but it’s those portals.”

“Is that less dangerous, or more?” Natasha asked.

“More,” Thor spoke up, and everybody turned to him, startled. He was standing with his chin in his hand, eyes fixed on the screen, and Natasha’s stomach twisted a little to realize that she’d seen Loki stand exactly the same way, when she’d taken a turn watching him on the Helicarrier. They’re brothers, she reminded herself. They grew up together. It was natural they’d share mannerisms.

It was still disconcerting.

She forced her attention back to the discussion. Thor was saying, “It’s… not unheard-of for portals to cause damage. The Bifrost, left open too long, would destroy whatever world it touched.” He looked away from them, shoulders hunching. “It’s how Loki tried to destroy Jotunheim. I had to break the Bifrost to stop it.”

“Y’know, you’re really not helping your argument that this chick isn’t an Elia-whatsit,” Stark said. “You said they built the Bifrost, right?”

“So the old records say,” Thor said.

“Great,” Stark said. “So why are we looking at this? What does this tell us? Please tell me someone came up with a plan.”

Steve grimaced. “We’re still working on the plan,” he admitted.

“We’ve got two problems,” Natasha said, trying to steer the discussion before Stark could derail it. “First is this Jahanna. We don’t know anything about her except what we just saw.”

“That’s why…” Banner said, waving a hand vaguely at the video. “Research.”

“Second is Loki,” Steve said. “We thought he was a known enemy, but his tactics this time around are totally different.”

“Good point,” Stark said. “Last week it was all about the lights and the cameras and the action. Now he’s in-out, on a schedule. Hardly even taking time to monologue, much less put on a show.” He tsk’d.

“And not killing,” Banner said.

“That’s right,” Steve said. “He said it at the lab, he wouldn’t kill anyone who didn’t get in his way.”

“And he stuck to it,” Stark said. “Why?”

“That’s what we’re trying to figure out,” Steve said. “Thor? Any ideas?”

Thor shook his head, and Natasha couldn’t help but notice how distracted he was. Whatever had happened at Stark Tower – Stark himself had said only, Loki showed up, kicked our asses, walked off with the goods. We’ll be there in a couple hours – it had obviously upset him. He said quietly, “I can no longer claim any insight into what my brother does.”

She caught the look Stark gave Steve, who closed his mouth over whatever he’d been about to say. Banner spoke up into the silence: “It’s like he… I think the phrase is ‘took a level in badass’.”

Steve and Thor both blinked at him, but Stark was already nodding. “Yeah, you’re right. He was pretty pathetic last week –no offense, big brother, but really, he gave up right away in Stuttgart, sat in the Helicarrier’s holding cell for a while, and then flew around New York on a Chitauri glider before the big guy used him as a metronome.”

“And now he’s showing teeth,” Banner said. “Think it’s the Tesseract?”

“Maybe,” Clint said. Something in his voice made Natasha look at him; his expression was grim and she reached across the table to wrap her fingers around his. He squeezed her hand before continuing, “It’s definitely a powerful artifact, and what I saw…” He took a deep breath. “He could be using it to augment his power.”

“But why the no killing?” Steve asked. “If he has all these new powers, why not show them off? Try to intimidate us?”

Stark’s eyes widened and he bounced on his toes with a revelation. “Because he doesn’t need to any more.”

They all frowned at him, but Natasha was already looking at it, putting together the pieces… “The killing was as much an act as the rest of it,” she breathed. “He was doing it for the attention. Earth was never his target.”

“Exactly,” Stark said. “He wanted to go to Asgard.” He whirled on Thor. “You said it cost your dad a lot of power to send you here, right, without the Bifrost?” Thor nodded, and Stark continued, “So it would’ve cost just as much to get Loki from here to Asgard. He couldn’t go directly to Asgard, he was stuck going wherever the Tesseract was thanks to the doom stick—”

“He could have just asked!” Thor cried. “When Heimdall finally saw him, we all—” He cut himself off, took a breath, his hands opening and closing restlessly at his sides; when he spoke again his voice was mostly steady. “He could have asked.”

But Stark was shaking his head. “He didn’t think so,” he said quietly. “I—Look, I didn’t mean to listen in, but your mic was still open, and. Well. He said it. He doesn’t think you or your dad would’ve come to get him unless he did something so… so dramatically atrocious that you wouldn’t have a choice.”

“He was always after the Infinity Gauntlet,” Natasha said. She could see it now, clear as day, with the perfect vision of hindsight. “Everything else was just bait, to get him back to Asgard the only way he could think to do it.”

“So taking the Gauntlet wasn’t a crime of opportunity,” Clint said.

Natasha shook her head. “He planned it. But he didn’t know the gems were missing, or else he’d have tried to grab Earth’s while he was here already.”

“But why does he want it?” Steve asked. “If the world domination gig was just for show, what does he need the Gauntlet for?”

“For his master,” Thor said darkly. He glanced up, aware of their eyes on him, and away again. “I’m… almost certain he answers to someone else.”

“You sure?” Stark said. “Guy like him, doesn’t seem like the type to take orders.”

“Naw,” Steve said under his breath, then looked innocent when Stark glared at him.

Ignoring them, Thor said, “He won’t… I can’t get him to admit it, but I believe it is so.”

“Think it’s Jahanna?” Banner asked.

Thor shook his head. “He told me that much. It’s not her.” He held up a hand to stop Steve’s next question. “I do not know who it could be. Asgard knows little enough about the Chitauri, and there may be others who roam the void between realms, who are powerful enough to command even Loki.”

“So he’s taking orders from someone,” Clint said. “Doesn’t change anything. How do we stop him?”

“We take out Jahanna,” Steve said. “She might know who he’s working for.”

“How, exactly, are we going to do that?” Stark asked. “She had us over a barrel. She was playing with us.”

“Not so,” Thor protested. “If Loki had not arrived we would have had her.”

“Uh, yeah, no,” Stark said. “That no-killing thing your brother’s doing? She was doing it too.”

“Felt lethal enough to me,” Banner said.

“He’s right,” Natasha interrupted. She’d seen it too, replaying the battle in her mind afterward. So had Clint, when she’d asked. “She could have killed half of us easily, if she’d redirected our attacks a little differently. Hit Clint or me with Thor’s lightning, or Steve with Clint’s arrows. But she never threw anything at any of us that we couldn’t take.”

“For that matter,” Clint added, “she could’ve let me fall. Or just portaled all of us a couple hundred feet in the air. But she didn’t.”

The room fell quiet for a minute as they considered this. Natasha thought about the fight, about what little they’d seen of Loki. What Stark had said about him, and how Thor had looked since arriving from New York. About watching the replay of the battle with Jahanna, over and over, trying to figure out an advantage.

It was, not unexpectedly, Stark who finally broke the silence. “So we have a magical portal-wielding catgirl who could probably kill most of us. We have the God of Lies and Mischief, who’s taken off the kid gloves and only hasn’t killed us yet because we’re not worth the time. And we have an unknown guy in the shadows who’s powerful enough to pull both their strings. Anyone else feeling screwed?”

“If I say yes,” Banner said, and the waver in his voice suggested he wasn’t entirely sure whether he was joking, “what does that mean for all of you?”

“We’ll think of something,” Steve said.

“There’s one thing,” Clint said grimly. “She uses portals. Portals go both ways.”

Steve regarded him somberly. “Can you make the shot?”

Clint nodded, but added, “It might kill her, though, if the portal disrupts the trajectory. We wouldn’t be able to question her. But if we take her off Loki’s side of the board, it might be a more balanced fight.”

“Wait for my call,” Steve said. “I still want to try to capture her first.”

Natasha thought again about what they faced; about how Thor had reacted, watching the video of Jahanna. She said, “I have an idea.”

They all looked at her, and she felt her mouth curve into a smile as she looked at Thor in turn. “Can demigods see in the dark?”

Chapter Text

“We’ll need a power source,” Loki said. He was contemplating the Eliacube, still in bird form, perched on the arm of his chair.

Jahanna had not been happy about the Chitauri’s declaration of war on Asgard, but agreed, reluctantly as Tikalukatal had, that opening the portal was necessary to maintain the illusion that they were still subservient to Thanos. Loki was grateful; he had not wanted to get into an argument about whether it was a good idea. Still, he found himself delaying their departure for Asgard – first by trying to puzzle out the specifics of Thanos’s grudge against Odin; next by fussing with his armor, scuffed and dirty and slightly charred from his encounter with Thor and the mortal Stark; now by going over the necessary spells step by careful step, with the excuse that he had relied on Selvig’s machine for the invasion of Earth and needed now to ensure the spells would make a sufficient replacement.

“A power source?” Jahanna repeated.

“To sustain the portal,” he said. “It took one of Midgard’s mightiest devices to hold it open before. Asgard has wells of power, but none which even I can easily reach.”

“Oh,” Jahanna said, and grinned. “We have a power source.” She elbowed Tikal in the arm and he glared halfheartedly at her.

Loki raised an eyebrow at him. “You can support a portal between realms for enough time to allow an entire army passage?”

Tikal snorted, and smoke blew out his nostrils in perfect rings. “Tikalukatal is no tiny Aesir magician,” he said. “He can hold the portal.”

“Dramatic and boastful,” Loki teased, and took a breath, steeling himself. He was out of delays. “Well, I suppose we should get this over with,” he muttered, and his voice at least didn’t betray him. He took up the scepter and called the Eliacube to him, settling it on his shoulder. Jahanna came to stand beside him, Tikal shifting to his ermine shape and winding around her neck.

The portal opened at the broken end of the Bifrost, and as he stepped through Loki had the satisfaction of seeing Heimdall blink in surprise. He stood frozen for a moment, poised on the edge of attack, caught up by a sudden fierce desire to make Heimdall pay for his betrayal a year ago. The same feeling he’d had looking at Thor in the glass cage on the Helicarrier, knowing that with a single motion he could exact revenge for the pain. Heimdall had conspired with Sif to rescue Thor from exile in defiance of royal decree, had drawn steel against the rightful king of Asgard. The Bifrost was broken, its guardian rendered unnecessary; it would be no loss to the kingdom if Loki killed him. Jahanna and Tikal came through the portal behind him and he knew that all he needed to do was move, provoke Heimdall to strike at him, and powerful as the Gatekeeper might be, Loki had the Eliacube and an Eliatrope and her brother on his side this time…

Then he remembered Tikal’s words, you are what you make yourself, and he hesitated. Remembered Thor’s anguished face as he’d released the cage. Remembered how he’d felt after it had dropped, the sick emptiness where there should have been joy, or at least satisfaction.

You lack conviction.

He fought back the blood-rage, the desire for revenge. Took a slow deep breath and smiled at Heimdall. The man’s gold eyes were fixed on him, and Loki had no doubt he’d seen his thoughts as clearly as he saw everything else. So he spread his hands, mindful of the scepter, and said only, “Heimdall.”

“Loki,” Heimdall answered, and if it was not the appropriate your highness at least it was not anything worse. His gaze turned from Loki to Jahanna and Tikal for the first time, and his eyes widened in sudden recognition. Loki had never been able to determine much of Heimdall’s history beyond what was publically known, but legend said that he was at least as old as Odin, if not more so. It was entirely possible he was old enough to have known the Eliatropes personally, before their disappearance. It was clear, at least, that he recognized their power; his hands shifted on the grip of his sword before he caught himself.

Loki said to him, “I am expecting guests soon, Heimdall. My companions and I are here to open the path for their entry.” He saw him understand, saw him tense, and pressed on quickly: “I would greatly appreciate it if you would carry word to my mother the Queen, and tell her to… prepare for their arrival.”

Heimdall stood motionless for a long minute, eyes fixed on Loki’s, and finally nodded once. “As you command, Your Highness,” he said, and turned to go.

“Heimdall,” Loki called after him, and the Gatekeeper paused, looking back. Loki licked his lips and said, “Disband Asgard’s forces and send them back to their homes. Thanos wishes to dominate, not destroy. He would not want his subjects greatly diminished by fighting an army so superior to Asgard’s own.”

Again Heimdall searched his face. Loki kept his expression disinterested, unconcerned, and at last Heimdall nodded and turned once more, striding along the rainbow bridge toward the palace.

Only when he was long out of earshot did Loki sigh in relief. Heimdall would not have responded so, would not have gone so quietly, had he not heard what Loki was truly asking. He could feel Tikal watching him, and quickly smoothed over his expression.

“A sentimental effort,” he said carelessly, and sighed again. “It’ll do little good. Asgard’s soldiers are bloodthirsty, and knowing that a battle is hopeless will not stop them from trying to fight it.”

“Do you really think it’s hopeless?” Jahanna asked.

He smirked. “The Chitauri are many unpleasant things, but they are also honed sharp by the land they inhabit. The Aesir have grown dull from centuries of peace. Few enough of their warriors even have experience in combat outside the training ground. They’ll fight, telling themselves they are defending their families, but the truth is that the Chitauri will kill enough civilians to make the point of their domination and satisfy Thanos’s bloodlust, regardless of how many soldiers they must go through first.”

Jahanna pursed her lips, thoughtful; after a moment of contemplation she crouched down to place one hand on the rainbow surface of the Bifrost, and the other on Loki’s scepter. She took a deep breath, and Loki sensed the magic flowing through her, from the scepter to the Bifrost. The Bifrost’s song, a sound so omnipresent in Asgard that Loki hardly noticed it, began to change. It slowed, deepened, its resonance falling to an almost sleepy sound.

Several minutes passed that way, before Jahanna released the scepter with a gasp and sat back. A sheen of sweat had appeared on her forehead, and there was blood on her lip where she’d bitten it, but her gaze was steady as she met Loki’s eyes. “That will reduce their lust for battle, a little,” she said. “It’s too many people over too vast an area to do any more, but it should make them think twice about fighting battles they cannot hope to win.”

“Impressive,” Loki murmured.

Jahanna shook her head. “What would really be impressive would be if I could actually keep them from fighting, instead of just giving them doubts about it.”

“How did you know you could do that?” he asked, and made it sound casual. “I thought you had not seen the scepter before.”

She looked away, ran a finger along the scepter’s carvings. “I haven’t. But… it was made by Qilby.”

She’d mentioned the name once before, as one of the two who’d discovered her sub-realm, and combined with other things she’d let slip, it was telling. He was putting together a picture of Jahanna and Tikalukatal that was rather more detailed, he suspected, than they wanted him to see. But now was not the time to press the issue, not after he’d wasted so much time already despite the Other’s warning, so he just made a thoughtful noise and let it drop.

Clearly eager to change the subject, Jahanna said, “We should get started. Putting it off won’t make it any easier.”

Loki nodded, and crouched down to sketch out the ritual circle at the end of the Bifrost. Jahanna sat forward to help him, and together they began to set up the magical construct necessary to support the portal in place of the mechanical device the Midgardian scientist had put together.

They were nearly done when hoofbeats sounded across the Bifrost. Loki looked up to see Sif and the Warriors Three thundering toward them, and his next breath came ragged past a chest full of broken edges. Sif, who had led them in betraying him, who had let her childish love for Thor overcome duty to king and country. Sif, who fueled the whispers of nīðing and argr, who hated Loki for being more girlish than she ever dared, no matter that he tried desperately not to be. Sif, who envied him Thor’s love. And the Three, who followed blindly where she led, who parroted her words and copied her deeds, all the more cruel for the fact that they thought Loki should believe they meant friendship.

He murmured to Jahanna, “Finish the circle. I’ll deal with them.” He stood up as Sif reigned in her horse at the edge of the ritual circle, the Three falling into formation behind her.

“Loki,” Sif spat, and there was venom in her voice, in her glare. “You’re awfully brave, to show your face here.”

He smiled at her, all polite graciousness, though his charm had never had an effect on her. “Sif,” he said, and made his voice warm. “Hogun. Fandral. Volstagg. It’s good to see you.”

Sif had her mouth open to reply but Hogun spoke first, cutting her off: “Whatever you do, we will stop you.”

Loki gave them a wounded look. “I’m trying to rebuild the Bifrost, as a gesture of reparation,” he said. “Would you truly stop me from doing that?” He saw Fandral and Volstagg trade uncertain glances.

Sif swung down off her horse, and Hogun as well. The other two stayed in their saddles; neither was bright enough to think for himself and Loki’s words had clearly given them more than they could handle. Sif picked her way warily through magic foci and carefully-drawn runes, stopping an arm’s length from Loki. She glanced behind him to where Jahanna still knelt, tracing symbols in gold shavings, then looked back to Loki, dismissing her. “You’re lying,” Sif said flatly. “You always lie, Loki Silvertongue, Loki Liesmith—”

Loki rolled his eyes. “Of course I’m lying,” he said, and didn’t have to feign the exasperation in his voice. “But that doesn’t matter, does it?” He grinned, sudden and sharp, and when she made as if to move closer he touched the point of his scepter to her breastplate, stopping her. From where the Three stood, it would look like nothing more than posturing; they could not understand the true meaning of the action. “My business has nothing to do with you,” he said, and pushed with will and magic, feeling the scepter’s power wrap around her soul.

Her gray eyes widened briefly before being subsumed by black, and when the black gave way to the blue glow of the scepter Loki felt his grin widen. “Now, Lady Sif, take your brutes and find Heimdall; perhaps he can give you something useful to do.”

“Yes, Your Highness,” Sif said, and it was startling to hear her say it without a trace of spite. She pressed a fist to her heart and bowed briefly before turning back toward the horses. The Three stared, uncomprehending, and Loki laughed.

“Is it so strange—” he began, then, “What have you done?” Hogun demanded. His mace had appeared in his hands; his gaze darted between Sif and Loki.

“Why,” Loki asked, “do you always assume I have done something?”

“Because you always have!” Fandral shouted. Apparently he’d tired of forcing intelligent thought through the creaking gears of his mind, for he leapt off his horse, sword drawn, and charged.

Sif intercepted him just outside the rune circle, bashing him in the neck with the grip of her spear and sweeping his legs out from beneath him. Fandral landed flat with a surprised yelp, and had to roll quickly to dodge a downward swing of her spear. Volstagg dismounted and ran for them, though he left his axe strapped to his back, unwilling to draw deadly steel against a friend. Hogun at least had the sense to bypass Sif while her attention was on them, and darted across the circle toward Loki.

Loki grinned at him, and drew on the Eliacube where it sat in the circle’s center. A blue half-dome of power materialized between him and Hogun, and Hogun’s mace bounced off it with a dull thud. Loki dropped the shield and stepped forward, deflecting another swing with his vambraces, and pressed the scepter’s tip against Hogun’s chest. A rush of power and Hogun, too, belonged to him. He couldn’t stop himself from laughing as Hogun joined Sif. It wasn’t much of a fight; Fandral and Volstagg were clearly reluctant to strike their friends and in a handful of moments they both lay groaning on the ground, pinned by Sif’s spear and Hogun’s mace.

They stared up at Loki as he crossed the circle to stand above them, scepter held lightly in one hand. In a voice hoarse with fear and disbelief, Fandral said, “Loki, don’t do this, we’re your friends—”

And that was more than he could take. “‘Friends’?” he hissed. “You dare call yourselves my friends, after everything you did?”

Fandral glanced at Volstagg in a panic, but Volstagg was just as lost. He said, “Loki, wait, please—”

Loki crouched down beside him. “No,” he whispered. “No begging, no pleading. You never listened when I did, after all.”

Fandral sucked in a breath; Loki gave him a smile with all the void in it as he touched the scepter to Volstagg’s heart. This close, Fandral could see the jagged blue traces of magic crawling up Volstagg’s skin, and he struggled frantically against Hogun’s grip. “Don’t worry,” Loki said. “It doesn’t hurt. And it’s better in the long run. If you behave for Heimdall, you might even survive to plague Asgard with your idiocy for another millennium.”

He reached across a suddenly-placid Volstagg to tap Fandral with the scepter and the spell, and just like that four of Asgard’s finest warriors were his to command. His earliest tormentors – he was just their friend Thor’s tagalong little brother, after all, and as long as Thor laughed too it was all in good fun – now screamed in some dark corner of their minds while Loki, for once, got to laugh instead.

That sending them to help Heimdall protect Frigga and the seat of Asgard’s power would also likely save their lives from the Chitauri invasion, well. That was an unfortunate side effect. Maybe later, if everyone survived this, he could hold it over Thor’s head.

He waited while they stood and composed themselves, then ordered, “Go find Heimdall. Obey him as you would me.” They bowed in unison, deeper and more respectful than even what they normally gave Thor, then mounted their horses and left for the city at a gallop.

Loki turned back to Jahanna to find her and Tikal both watching him with identical dark eyes. He spread his hands innocently. “I thought you preferred the path of least killing.”

Jahanna shook her head, mouth quirked in something that might have been amusement, and said only, “The circle’s finished. Are you ready?”

He wasn’t, but that wouldn’t stop the army from coming. It just meant the Other would need to force him, and that would be… unpleasant for everyone involved. So he nodded, his grip tightening on the scepter, his breath suddenly unsteady. Jahanna settled herself on one side of the Eliacube; Tikalukatal, in a man’s shape, sat on the other. Loki knelt at the circle’s edge and touched a finger to the outer ring, sealing it and activating the spell with a surge of power. The Eliacube flared and sparked; rays of brilliant light sprang from Jahanna and Tikalukatal toward it, then up into the air. Loki backed away; having started the spell there was little he could do to either help it or end it.

The Chitauri had been waiting: the first gliders shot through the moment the portal blossomed into existence. Loki turned to watch them pass overhead, toward the city, and heard the guards’ horns blare a warning in the distance. It would do them little good, and he could only hope that Heimdall had heeded his advice. Above him, warbeasts came spilling from the portal like maggots, surrounded by swarms of gliders, all descending on Asgard’s shining towers.

He turned away at the last second, before the impact, nausea roiling through him. Far worse than he’d felt standing on Stark’s balcony, when Thor had shouted at him to look. Midgard had always been a distant land, a petty one, its people primitive and too short-lived to matter. Their towers, only recently raised, could easily be rebuilt; the lost lives replaced in a handful of years. But this was Asgard, ancient and eternal, where he had grown up, where he had played as a child, where he had lived and loved and learned—

Asgard which betrayed him, he told himself firmly. Asgard which cast him out, which could not stand to look upon him.

He was glad Jahanna and Tikal were too focused on the spell to see the tears on his face.

Chapter Text

Afterward, the mood in their volcanic lair was subdued. Loki sat on a couch with his legs stretched in front of him, staring at nothing. Jahanna sat sideways beside him, leaning against his arm, knees drawn up and Tikal in ermine form curled in a ball on her stomach. The Eliacube floated over her, spinning lazily, patterns traced in blue magic winding over and around it. From the way Jahanna was half-attending it, Loki guessed it to be another of the training programs of the cube: something to do to keep her mind off the Chitauri tearing through Asgard. Part of him wanted to ask her to show him, but another, bigger part wanted nothing to do with the cube for a while.

Instead, he occupied himself by surreptitiously studying Jahanna’s fox-eared hat. He’d respect her bargain, but he still wanted to see what he could work out on his own. Especially if it meant not having to think about Asgard. He could feel magic beneath the hat, like the Eliacube, a warm power that pulsed faintly in time to her heartbeat. More curiously, though, he could sense binding spells on the hat itself: deep and powerful spells not so much cast on the hat as woven into its very fabric. The bindings reminded him of the chains Thor had put on him, of some of the ancient spells built into the foundations of Asgard, of the constructs that made up the edges of the Bifrost and kept it contained in the shape of a bridge: barriers to restrict magic, to hold it in and limit its scope, its spill.

The bindings on Jahanna’s hat were at least as strong as, if not stronger than, any of those. He remembered the power of the Infinity Gems, and Jahanna telling him that the gems were simply reservoirs for the power of the Eliatrope’s Council of Six. The two gems they’d retrieved so far were tucked away in the extradimensional pocket where he kept his most valuable possessions, but he could still feel them as a faint pressure on his skin. If they represented anything like the power bound beneath an Eliatrope hat…

It was all about power, wasn’t it? Power enough to entice a titan, power enough that the Allfather had deemed the gems too dangerous to be kept together. Power enough to do anything, even open paths between worlds at will.

He thought about the lie he’d told Sif and the Three back on the Bifrost. It had been off the cuff, a simple lie meant only to cause confusion and hesitation, yet he couldn’t stop thinking about it. He said, “Jahanna?”

“Mmm?”

“Was the Bifrost truly built by Eliatropes?”

She stopped playing with the Eliacube and tilted an ear toward him. “The what?”

“The Bifrost. The rainbow bridge between worlds, where we stood to… where we stood earlier.”

“That?” She considered for a moment. “It might have been Eliatrope work, but that bridge is just a foundation, a… um… a channel, to support a spell. Tikal and I used it when we opened the portal.” She winced, clearly not liking to remember. “It’s not really anything by itself.”

That was interesting. All the Asgardian research on the subject had always treated the rainbow bridge and Heimdall’s observatory as a single unit, part of the same massive construct. He remembered thinking, lying on the Bifrost as Thor began to smash it, that if Thor broke the bridge they would both die, disintegrated by the blast released when Mjölnir destroyed the bindings holding the entire thing together. He hadn’t exactly had time afterwards to wonder why only the observatory separated and broke apart.

He said, “There used to be another part, before…” Before he’d tried to destroy Jotunheim, before he’d fallen. “Before Thor broke it.” He described it to her: the great gold observatory, the intricate carvings, the way Heimdall’s sword slotted into its heart to control it. What the bridge felt like, the way it looked when it came blasting out of the sky.

She listened, fingers drumming on her knee, and when he’d finished she said, “All right, yes, that part is almost certainly Eliatrope work. Really old, though.”

“It’s been at least ten thousand years since the Eliatropes were last seen,” he said. “What do you consider ‘old’?”

Her head tilted back far enough that she could give him an upside-down surprised look. “It’s been that long?”

“You didn’t know?”

“Time… ran differently here, while we were growing up,” she admitted. She started to say something else, visibly changed her mind, and finally said, “It’s really complicated.”

Loki had to bite back the thousand questions that sprang to his lips, none of which she was likely to answer. Instead he asked, “So you mean old relative to the Eliatropes’ time?”

She nodded. “It sounds like some of Glip’s early designs, before Chibi figured out a more efficient way to bypass the relative-dimension temporal restriction.”

Still more questions came to mind at that; he wanted to ask her so much about Eliatrope magic, Eliatrope portals. Wanted to learn how it all worked, what she meant by time ran differently here, who Glip and Chibi were and the projects they’d worked on. And he would, in time, when Thanos was defeated and he could give the answers the attention they deserved.

For now, though, he made himself ask only the one question that mattered: “Do you think you could reproduce it?”

“I’m… Hmm.” She tapped a finger against her mouth. “I think so, maybe. Why?”

He remembered how strange and empty the edge of the world had looked, with the Bifrost shattered and the observatory gone. He said lightly, “When I am king of Asgard, I’ll need the Bifrost in good repair.”

“…And because it being broken was your fault in the first place,” Jahanna said, matching his light tone, “and because everything the Chitauri are destroying will need to be rebuilt, and having a portal to the other realms will make that a lot easier.”

He scowled at the top of her head. “I thought we agreed to a moratorium on the extraction of secrets.”

“Is it a secret when it’s written all over your face?”

“You’re not even looking at my face!”

“Tikal is.”

He looked past her, and indeed Tikal was, one beady black eye open and fixed on him. Loki said, “Unfair, teaming up against me.”

“Twins,” she said smugly.

“Do you truly share thoughts, then?” he asked.

“Moratorium on secrets!”

He flicked a finger against one of her fox ears. “You got one of mine. It’s only fair.”

“Pfft. Fine,” she grumbled, though he could hear the smile in her voice. “No, we don’t share thoughts as such. We can sense emotions sometimes, strong ones, though it’s not detailed. But he can choose who hears him when he speaks.”

“Hmm,” Loki said. “That could come in handy.”

“It does,” Tikal said in Loki’s mind, and flashed him an ermine grin.

Loki smirked back, but before he could say anything Jahanna said thoughtfully, “If you’re going to rebuild this Bifrost of yours, you’ll want to update the design to take into account Chibi’s work with the temporal restrictions.”

“How would we do that?” he asked.

“Not sure,” she admitted. “I know how to build the portal itself, but I never really understood the mechanics of the physical support structure. I can try looking at Glip’s notes, but…”

“Let me look at them,” Loki said, and even he could hear the desire in his voice. “I studied the Bifrost extensively; I might be able to follow the work.”

“Tomorrow,” Jahanna said. “It’s been a long day, and I’m so tired I can barely see straight. I’m to bed.”

He touched her shoulder lightly. “Shall I escort you?” His mouth had gone dry; he had to remind himself that this was not the first time he had made such an offer to a woman. That Jahanna cared neither that he was a prince, nor that he was Jotun. That she had called him beautiful.

She paused in the middle of waving the Eliacube away, and turned around to look at him. The smile that curved her mouth was dark and heated, and her voice was low as she said, “I would appreciate that, Your Highness.”

Tikal rolled his eyes, huffed, and disappeared with a soft pop, leaving them alone.

* * *

Later, he felt the call of the scepter and answered the Other’s summons with more sleepy annoyance than fear. Certainly, the panic was still there, rising to a gut-wrenching sickness when his projection materialized in Asgard’s throne room and he saw Thanos seated on Asgard’s golden throne. But Jahanna was a warm solid presence against his physical body, and his projected self stood tall and unflinching in his armor. When he knelt at the base of the throne it was only briefly, before standing to face Thanos and the Other.

If either of them noticed the change in him, they didn’t show it. The Other said gleefully, “Asgard has fallen. Its army was weak, its people slow and helpless before us. They put up little fight.”

“And the Allfather?” Loki asked, careful not to sound too eager, or concerned. It had not escaped him that Thanos did not hold Gungnir.

Thanos scowled, and the Other hissed, “There is a… small contingent of holdouts, who guard Odin Borson where he sleeps. They will fall soon enough.”

“Will they,” Loki said, his voice dry.

The Other was beside him in an instant, his white corpse’s hands hooked into claws aimed for Loki’s face. Loki leaned back, heart in his throat but his expression bland, letting the scepter come between them, and the Other stopped short. Past him, Loki could see Thanos watching, amused. Directing his words to Thanos, as if the Other meant nothing (and he didn’t, he was just Thanos’s mouthpiece, never mind what he’d done before he’d shown off his new pet to the titan), he said, “The Allfather’s chambers are well protected from direct assault. Might I suggest an alternate route?”

Thanos’s hand moved slightly on the arm of the throne, inviting him to continue. Loki said, “There is an old servants’ passage which runs from a hidden door below the kitchen stairs to the Allfather’s rooms.” He let a smile curl his lips. “A leftover from Bor’s days. I used it when I was small, to trick Odin. I’ve had no need of it in many years, but your warriors might find it useful.”

They didn’t need to know that Odin was also aware of the passage, and after a rather sorry assassination attempt by rogue svartalfen, had had it outfitted with a variety of deadly traps.

Thanos nodded, seeming pleased with the suggestion. The Other stepped back, just a little, but it was enough – Loki had pleased the titan, and the Other wouldn’t dare touch him. Loki gave him a smile, and if it was brittle around the edges it was still enough that the Other bared his teeth in return.

Still speaking to Thanos, Loki said, “We have already recovered two of the Infinity Gems, as well as the scepter and the Tesseract.” He hefted the scepter to illustrate the point. “The remaining three should take but a few days.”

“Good,” the Other said sharply, and Thanos nodded agreement.

Loki bowed once more, preparing to take his leave. He wondered if this was what Tikal had meant by heal, to face those who’d tortured and broken him, and bow not in soul-crushing terror, but mockery and secret defiance.

He had less than a moment to notice, when he straightened, that the Other was no longer in front of him. Before he could react, before he could break the spell and separate his consciousness from his projected body, six white fingers wrapped around his throat from behind. The Other whispered in his ear, “The independence He has granted you has caused you to fall back into bad habits, slave.”

Hand tightening on his throat, the Other’s slithering magic locking his awareness to this body; cold slimy fingers worming into the cracks in his soul and pulling. Digging, rending, tearing, shards of pain stabbing into his mind, his heart. The Other hissed, “You seek the freedom from which I was generous enough to release you. You believe you can think on your own.”

no please

Black spots clouding his vision, swimming against the gold ceiling. Pain building, swelling, beyond anything his physical body could have managed, beyond anything his mind could compass. His very soul torn apart at the seams, shredded and splintered, drowning him in the broken pieces of himself. He was screaming, raw and hoarse and helpless, long past the point where he should have run out of air, long past the point of caring. “I released you from the tyranny of freedom,” the Other spat. “I made you into a vessel for His will. Do not think to throw away such a glorious gift.”

no please, someone, anyone, please no, please, Thor, Father—!

“No one will come for you,” the Other purred, and Loki knew he was right, he was always right, no one had ever come to save him, alone, abandoned, unwanted. “You belong to me—”

“Stop.”

For a moment the whole world seemed to freeze. His vision had gone mostly black, but he didn’t need to see to recognize Jahanna’s voice, the subtle hum of her magic. His mind skipped and then stuck, not quite able to process that she was here. Then the Other growled and flung him; he slammed hard into the marble floor, unable to catch himself, and before he could roll away, move, anything, the Other’s jagged metal boot came down hard on the back of his neck.

“Eliatrope,” the Other snarled. “What do you think—”

“If you break him,” and her voice was calm, imperious, a queen interrupting a mewling courtier, “he can’t retrieve the Infinity Gems.”

“Misbehaving beasts must be taught their place,” the Other said. His foot bore down and Loki choked.

Jahanna moved, coming around them to face Thanos. He couldn’t see much of her from where he lay, face crushed against the cold marble, struggling to breathe, to think, with his soul in tatters. But he could see Thanos, and a cold dread shot through him when he realized the titan looked amused. Jahanna said to Thanos, “You know what I am. You know who I am.”

Thanos’s mouth split into a terrible smile. His voice rattled the golden pillars, sent shocks crawling across Loki’s flesh: The Traitor.

“Every traitor is still loyal to something,” Jahanna answered. “I know your goal, I know your plan. Are you sure it’s wise to hurt the only person I’m loyal to?”

It was all the more terrifying that she didn’t make a particular effort to sound threatening, yet Thanos no longer looked amused. His eyes narrowed, and whatever means he used to communicate with the Other, it was clear he did so now. The Other’s boot came off Loki’s neck and Loki scrabbled upright, clawed his way across the floor, pride and dignity forgotten in the desperate need to get away. He fetched up against the back of Jahanna’s legs, and her hand settled against his jaw, small and hot and gentle. He could feel power thrumming through her, through the air around her, the same power he’d felt hidden beneath her Eliatrope hat, but magnified a dozen-fold.

The Other was staring, not at him but at Jahanna, his expression unreadable behind the wrappings binding his eyes. Loki dared a glance over his shoulder at Thanos as Jahanna said with regal politeness, “Thank you.” She broke the spell, ending the connection and snapping them back to their physical bodies.

But not before Loki saw the hunger on Thanos’s face.

Chapter Text

“Thor!”

Thor spun around at the shout and Jane Foster flung herself into his arms. She was as tiny and delicate as he remembered, and as vibrantly alive, hugging him with a fierceness that belied her size. He returned her embrace, careful not to crush her, though he did give in to the urge to lift her off her feet and spin her in a circle. She shrieked with laughter, and when he set her down again she pulled him close for a kiss.

It was a relief to see her, to know that she was safe, to know that she had missed him. When they released each other, she was smiling. “You made it back after all,” she said. “I saw you on TV and I thought…”

She trailed off, emotions flicking across her face too fast for Thor to identify. He took her hands in his. “I would have come to see you then,” he said softly, “but my brother...” and it was his turn to hesitate, not sure whether he should tell her about Loki’s threats, about Thor’s fear that if he tried to see her it would only draw Loki’s eye to her. But she just nodded, and he remembered that she worked for SHIELD now, and probably knew at least that Loki had been involved in last week’s violence.

“You’re here now,” she said pragmatically, and looped an arm through his. “Come on. I thought you’d never get out of that meeting, and I have so many questions I want to ask you.”

He couldn’t help but smile. The discussion with the Avengers had indeed taken a long time, as they hashed out Agent Romanoff’s plan for capturing Jahanna and, hopefully, Loki. According to the Midgardian clock it was long past sundown when they had finally broken for dinner and rest; Thor had been searching for the dining hall a junior agent had told him about when Jane found him. He said to her, “Only if you don’t mind eating while we talk. I’m famished.”

“Is it dinnertime?” she asked in surprise. “I don’t even know, I’ve been in the lab all day. Agent Armstrong said you’re cleared to know, right? About the Infinity Gem?”

Thor nodded. He still didn’t fully understand the mortals’ system of clearances and secrets and ‘need-to-know’, but considering he probably knew at least as much about the gems as most of SHIELD’s experts, they could hardly tell him no. He said, “The Director said you’re trying to re-create the Bifrost.”

“Basically, yeah,” she said. “This gem is incredible. I’d been talking to Erik about his work with the Tesseract before, um. Before last week, and if the Tesseract is a power source then the gem is… is… I don’t even know how to explain it. It has power, that’s for sure, but it’s really focused. We’ve been able to create micro-wormholes since almost day one, and now—” She cut herself off, grimacing. “I’m talking too much, aren’t I? I’m definitely talking too much—”

“No, no,” Thor said, and smiled to show he meant it. “I like to hear. Although,” he added, “I am curious how Earth came to be in possession of this gem. My father had thought it was in Alfheim.”

“I’m not sure,” Jane said. “From what I’ve heard, we didn’t know about it either until after Erik started working on the Tesseract. Apparently they share a resonance; someone in SHIELD spotted the gamma radiation coming from the gem after Erik woke up the Tesseract. It was in some old vault in Ireland somewhere, I think.”

“I see,” Thor said, considering. He knew the elves had sometimes come to Earth as the Aesir had, in times past. Mayhap one of them had brought along the Infinity Gem, only to lose it. “And you’re already creating things with it?”

Jane nodded, and launched into an explanation of something extremely technical-sounding, which had Thor completely lost after the first three or four words. She sounded like Loki, he thought absently, when he was on the trail of a discovery; and his heart ached once again.

I’ll find you, brother, he vowed silently. I’ll find you and I’ll do whatever it takes to set you right.

* * *

Clint had disappeared as soon as the meeting broke up. Natasha let him; she needed to track down a couple of people on the base to make some arrangements. But when that was done, she stopped by the cafeteria, then headed out into the dry New Mexico heat and climbed the tallest of the base’s four radar towers.

He sat at the top, on a maintenance walkway, arms threaded through the railing, staring down at the bustle of preparation that continued despite night having fallen some hours ago. With the looming threat of Loki’s arrival, the agents securing the base couldn’t afford sleep. Natasha sat beside him, shoulder to shoulder, and offered a wrapped sandwich through the railing.

He stared at it for a moment as if he didn’t know what it was, then shook his head. “I’m not hungry.”

She pushed it into his hand. “Eat.”

He shot her a sideways look, then, reluctantly, unwrapped the sandwich and began to eat. She waited, looking out into the wide desert night, at the few stars visible past the base’s floodlights. Finally Clint crumpled the empty wrapper into a tight ball, and threw it over the railing. They both watched as it dropped neatly into a trash can a hundred feet below. He said, “I shouldn’t be this afraid.”

“Why not?” Natasha asked. “What Loki did to you—”

“—was nothing,” he said. “I’ve been through a lot worse.”

“Physically, maybe,” she agreed. “But it’s different when it’s inside your head.”

“…yeah.”

She waited.

“I didn’t think I’d have to see him again,” Clint said eventually. “He was going back to Asgard, and they’d lock him up and… and… I don’t know, put space viking thumbscrews on him or something. I thought…” He turned to look at her, and she could see the desperation in his eyes. “I don’t know if I can do this, Tasha.”

“If you can’t,” she said, “you need to tell Fury now.”

“Heh.” He rubbed at his eyes, then draped his arms back through the railing. Natasha could see the bruise, blotchy green and fading, at his hairline where she’d thrown him into a different railing a week ago. “Fury’d tell me to suck it up.”

“He would,” she agreed.

“What if…” he said, and hesitated, then tried again. “If Thor’s right. About Loki being under someone else’s control…” Natasha watched him, waiting, and finally he said, “If he’s a… a victim, too?”

It wasn’t all he wanted to say. She made an encouraging noise. Clint took a deep breath, looking out over the base. “He got quiet after Banner knocked him around. Behaved himself, didn’t even try to escape.”

“Cognitive recalibration,” she said.

“His eyes were… There wasn’t any sign of it,” he said, sounding like he was trying to convince himself. “But he uses those damn illusions all the time…”

She shook her head. “That wasn’t it. We know he wanted to go back to Asgard, so he wouldn’t try to escape when we were finally sending him there. But,” and she caught his gaze and held it, “even if he was under someone else’s control, it doesn’t change what he did. Even if someone else made him do it, he’s still the one who hurt you.”

“Then I’m the one who killed my friends on the Helicarrier,” he whispered.

There was no good answer, or perhaps not any answer at all. Natasha reached through the railing and wound her fingers through Clint’s. He squeezed back, hard, and they sat together, staring into an endless night.

* * *

Loki came back to his physical body with a gasp and doubled over, retching helplessly. Some dim corner of his mind was grateful that he’d forgotten to eat today; he didn’t think he could stand humiliation on top of everything else. Jahanna’s arms were around him, smoothing back his hair, rubbing his shoulders. He could feel her shaking, whether from fear or rage or something else, he didn’t know.

He finally managed to get himself under some degree of control and sat up a little. He was still holding the scepter, and he flung it across the room. It hit the stone wall and clattered to the floor, its blue gem glittering ominously. Jahanna caught his hand and he looked down to see her staring at him, eyes a little too wide. He took a deep breath. “I’m fine,” he whispered.

“That’s arguable,” she said, but there was no sting in it. She really did look afraid. “Next time,” she added, “you get to bluff the titan.”

He was close enough to hysterical that it made him laugh, but he sobered quickly. “You shouldn’t have done that,” he told her. “If Thanos didn’t understand your power before, he does now, and that was an advantage we couldn’t afford to throw away.”

“You,” she said gently, “are worth far more than any advantage we have.”

Her words stabbed at his soul, past the broken edges into something deeper. Jahanna had come for him, had intervened on his behalf, something even those who’d called themselves his father and brother hadn’t bothered to do. He licked his lips and swallowed. Reached for control and found it, or at least something close enough. “He didn’t care about you before,” Loki said. “Now he wants you in addition to the gems.”

“I don’t care,” she said. “I won’t let them hurt you any more.”

She said it plainly, no doubts and no subterfuge, her fingers hot and strong around his hand. He felt again the lance through his soul. “You’re an idiot,” he said softly.

“Thanos isn’t getting me any more than he’s getting the gems,” she answered, just as soft. “I trust you.”

“I’ve no plan,” he reminded her. “Even if I did, even if I knew how to chase him from Asgard and lock him away in the void once more, he’d just come after me, again and again until he got what he wanted.” His voice cracked; he made himself continue: “Killing him, if it’s even possible, is to give him his heart’s greatest desire. It would be a victory for him. I’ve no power that can stand against him. I’ve no kingdom, no army, no allies—”

“You have us,” she said.

He laughed again, then, strange and low, at the edge of hysteria. “I do that,” he whispered. “I do that.”

* * *

It was only as he fell asleep, curled around her and breathing in the scent of her hair, that he remembered what Thanos had called her:

Traitor.

Chapter Text

The next morning, they prepared for the trip to Vanaheim. Jahanna didn’t mention what Thanos had said, and Loki didn’t press her on it. He suspected she was hoping he’d been too insensate at the time to hear, and like so many other things she did not say, her silence on the topic was more revealing than if she’d tried to lie. He thought he had her pinned, but he needed one more thing before he could be sure. One more piece of information, and three more worlds on which to find it.

Loki still felt strange, off-balance from the meeting with Thanos and the Other. He knew he should be terrified, soul-shocked, hurting as he had always been before. Yet he felt little more than an odd disconnect, as if he floated outside himself. Every time the fear rose up – and it did, often, that hadn’t changed – he remembered Jahanna’s imperious stop, remembered her saying I won’t let them hurt you. He felt no braver, no less broken, but neither did he feel that horrible sick terror.

And he was glad for it: Vanaheim was Asgard’s closest ally, and would be one of the more difficult thefts. As soon as the Vanir realized that Asgard had fallen, they would double or treble their guard on the Infinity Gem. Not that Alfheim and Niflheim wouldn’t, but the Vanir were as ancient as the Aesir and, unlike Asgard, favored intelligence, cunning, and magic over brute strength. Loki had not looked forward to penetrating their defenses as it was; once they reacted to the Chitauri invasion it would be nearly impossible.

So it was that they used the roundabout path through the realms, as they had done with Muspelheim, to hide the Eliacube’s magic: a portal from Jahanna’s realm to Svartalfheim, where neither the dwarves nor the svartalves were looking for them; then walking the hidden ways through the World Tree to Vanaheim. Loki was more familiar with these paths, having had more use for sneaking into Vanaheim as a youth than Muspelheim, and he was able to lead them to a shaded grove outside the capital city.

There, sheltered from curious eyes, he gave Jahanna and Tikal a few minutes to look around in awe. Vanaheim was truly a beautiful realm, with great lush forests, broad rivers, and bright flowers. Asgard liked to show off its might and so drowned its cities in gold and silver and other precious metals, but the Vanir revered nature, and their cities were filled with elegant structures grown from living trees, carefully shaped and tended. The walls of the capital were more decorative than defensive, and were covered over, under, and through with sprawling gardens. Jahanna took it all in with her mouth shaping a little O of amazement, and Tikal had long since taken to the air to explore.

It was a little strange, to see them react so. Vanaheim was the first realm to which Loki had traveled, as a child in the royal family on some matter of state; and one of the most frequent. As a youth and as a grown man, he’d spent long months cloistered in its great libraries, reading everything he could find on magic. If he was not wholly inured to the realm’s beauty, he was at least more accustomed to it, and seeing them react so made him look with fresh eyes as well.

Still, they were here with a purpose, and finally he touched Jahanna’s arm. “We should be going,” he said. “It’s more difficult, with the Vanir, to know how they might have protected their gem.”

She shook herself a little and nodded. Tikal called a hunting cry overhead and dove to land on her arm. “There is great magic here,” he announced. “A powerful spell, fueled by many sources.”

“Odin warned them about us,” Loki said. “Before he fell. We’ll have to be careful.”

“Aren’t we always?” Jahanna said.

“You would throw yourself at a titan unassisted,” he said dryly. “You have a strange definition of ‘careful’.”

She grinned and produced the Eliacube with a flourish. “Then by all means, Your Highness. Show us how to be careful.”

He rolled his eyes at her, but took the Cube and invoked the locating spell.

The result nearly took his breath away: unlike the previous times he’d cast it, this time the link between Jahanna and the gem blazed sun-bright, making him blink. He broke the spell and re-cast it, leaving out the Eliacube, and was again rewarded with a blaze of magic, less bright without the cube’s amplification but no less powerful.

Three worlds to find that last piece of information, and for once luck had gone his way.

Jahanna was looking at him curiously; he got his expression under control and turned his attention to the matter at hand. The locating spell showed a path roughly northeast and, oddly, quite a ways vertically. He pointed a finger along it for their benefit, saying to Tikal, “You’ll need to carry us.”

The red bird nodded and ruffled his wings; as he did he began to grow in size, hopping off Jahanna’s arm to the ground. When he was big enough to carry them both he crouched, and they climbed onto his shoulders. It was more awkward this way than leaping onto his back already in flight, but Jahanna seemed to know what she was doing and Loki settled himself behind her. With a moment’s effort he wrapped them in a veil, hiding them from any stray gaze. Tikal’s great wings began to beat, and with a lurch they were airborne.

Tikal took them on a lazy upward path, cutting low over the city until he found an updraft that carried them soaring into the sky. Beyond the city, a vast forest spread beneath them, trees taller than Asgard’s shining towers forming a rich green canopy. The locating spell’s line grew ever brighter as they flew, pointing them toward a distant blue glow at the top of the horizon. It wasn’t until they drew close, close enough to see the guards mounted on winged horses patrolling the clouds, that Loki realized how the Vanir had protected their gem.

“Oh,” he whispered, and grinned. “Oh, that’s clever.”

Thousands – millions – of glittering blue gems studded the sky from horizon to horizon, a field of stars only a mile from the earth. Identical Infinity Gems, and when the trace from his locating spell entered the field it split into a million separate lines, one to each gem. “A fractal reflection,” he said admiringly. “Even with my spell, we’d have to touch each one to find the true gem.” He rested a hand on Jahanna’s arm, deliberate, knowing. “It’s lucky, isn’t it, that this gem is yours?”

She spun to face him, dark eyes wide, and Loki felt the momentary hesitation in Tikal’s wingbeats. Before either of them could speak, Loki continued, “We can discuss it later. Their guards have spotted us.”

Jahanna’s eyes were narrowed as she glanced up and back to where the flying riders were wheeling their mounts toward them. He’d angered her, and he reveled in it: no more secrets, no more hiding. She said sharply, “You deal with the guards. I’ll be right back,” and leaped off Tikal’s shoulders, taking the Eliacube with her.

Loki blinked. He hadn’t expected that. Then again, she did have portals; in theory she could leap from one to another without ever needing to touch solid ground—

A streak of blue light shot across the sky, along the path of the locating spell as though being reeled in. It darted into the gem field, sending a fractal wave of blue streaks throughout the field and disappearing among them. The pegasus guards who’d been angling for Loki and Tikal raised a shout; four of them broke off and flew after Jahanna, while the rest continued their charge. Loki drew his knives, preparing to throw—

Tikal folded his wings and they dropped like a stone.

Loki barely managed to avoid stabbing Tikal as he scrambled for a hold; he lost one of his knives in the process and had to call it back as Tikal’s wings snapped open and they leveled out once more, close enough to the treetops that Loki could have reached down and brushed the leaves. “Petty,” he said.

“Tikalukatal suggests,” Tikal said blandly, “that you hold on.”

“Ha, ha,” Loki muttered, and shifted his grip. The Vanir had not pursued them; pegasi were not built for rapid dives as birds of prey were, and the slower spiraling descent they could do would have left them wide open to attack. Instead, the Vanir guards rained down arrows from above, and Tikal dipped and weaved through the sudden storm. Beyond them, Loki could see the kaleidoscopic flash of the gem field: the green and brown of the Vanir who’d followed Jahanna, the white of the pegasi, the blue of Jahanna’s magic, and, occasionally, the red and black of her armor as she paused between portals to return fire on the guards who chased her.

He prodded Tikal’s shoulder. “Fly higher; I can’t reach anything from here.”

“We do not need to attack,” Tikal responded. “Only distract.”

“That’s no fun at all,” Loki complained. “Will you continue to punish me simply for seeing the obvious? I warned you, you can’t lie to a liar.”

“Tikalukatal has no desire to bring death to innocent defenders,” Tikal said. “If you have truly uncovered what you believe, you would know why.”

Loki considered his words for a moment, ducking absently beneath an arrow, and finally nodded. “As you will, then.” He dodged another arrow and caught a third, snapping the shaft in his fingers. “They can see through my veil, though, and seem to have some ability to navigate in the fractal field. The faster your sister retrieves her gem, the safer we—” A flicker of motion, of magic, hidden in the trees below. “—Pull up!”

Tikal responded instantly, veering sharply upward and narrowly avoiding the hooked and enchanted chains that shot up from beneath the trees to entangle them. Loki leaped from his back, grabbing one of the chains as he plummeted through a welter of branches, and used it to steer himself to a landing on a broad branch where a host of Vanir sorcerers and warriors waited. A group of engineers nearby tended the war machines they’d used to fire the chains, winding great winches to haul the chains back in for another shot.

Loki summoned his scepter; after last night he hadn’t wanted to touch it again, but its effectiveness as a weapon outweighed his hatred for those who’d given it to him. He used it now, clubbing the nearest Vanir in the head as the man raised his own sword, then dodging beneath the swing of another warrior. Tikal’s desire not to kill was going to become a problem very quickly; Thor might have been able to get away with it thanks to his blunt hammer if he was careful where he landed his blows, but Loki fought with edged weapons, and he could only make do with the butt of the scepter for so long.

He spun an illusory double off to the side and wrapped a veil around himself, but whatever the pegasus riders were using to see through his illusions, these men had it too. No surprise, really – Odin would have warned them of Loki’s usual tactics. He had to dive away from a sword, but another was already swinging toward him as he came to his feet; he managed to throw himself out of the way but a blast of magical fire caught him off-balance and sent him tumbling from the branch.

He caught himself on a lower branch, smaller and less stable than the one the Vanir stood on, and its wobbling gave him an idea. Ducking beneath a ray of magical fire, Loki pointed the scepter at the place where the big branch connected to the tree, and loosed a blast of power that charred the bark through to the wood beneath. The branch groaned, but didn’t give. One of the Vanir sorcerers, realizing what he was about, shouted a warning to the engineers. Loki fired again, and this time a loud crack echoed through the forest.

The Vanir engineers erupted in motion, trying to move themselves and their war engines to less dangerous footing. Most of the sorcerers and warriors stayed to help, but a handful jumped down from the big branch toward Loki. He scrambled lower through the trees, vanishing the scepter before he lost his grip on it, but he was no woodsman and soon found himself fetched up against a thick trunk with no good branches in reach. He heard shouting behind him and spun to see three Vanir swordsmen and two sorcerers vaulting lightly from branch to branch. One of the sorcerers raised his hands and called a ball of greenish acid; it shot toward Loki and he flung himself to the side, falling, scrabbling desperately at branches and twigs too small to hold his weight—

—caught one and swung on it for a moment before it snapped, but it was enough for him to reach a bigger branch, and he looped an arm around it and flipped himself on top of it. He summoned the scepter again and fired blindly back in the general direction of the Vanir chasing him, and was rewarded with cries of surprise or pain. He didn’t stop to look, but climbed up as fast as his hands could carry him toward the green canopy above, and when he broke through, perched precariously in a fork as the tree swayed beneath him, he was relieved to see Tikal swooping down in a graceful dive.

Loki raised an arm and Tikal caught it in his talons, yanking Loki along as he banked sharply to dodge a volley of arrows from the phalanx of Vanir still chasing him. With an effort, Loki dragged himself up Tikal’s body and managed to get settled on his back once more. Panting a little, he asked, “Jahanna?”

“Pursued,” Tikal said grimly.

Loki looked up, but the fractal effect was still in full force and the sky was a kaleidoscope of color. Tikal didn’t seem to have a problem, though; Loki could see his eyes tracking a distinct line across the sky. He wondered how long it would take; whether he’d been wrong, whether he’d overestimated her ability to find the gem, whether she would be able to get it before the Vanir got her…

Tikal twitched, a half-formed cry spiking in Loki’s mind. Craning his neck, squinting against the riot of light and color, he inhaled sharply as he spotted Jahanna’s body tumbling limp through the air. She plummeted out of the fractal field, limbs loose, eyes closed, and her portals were useless if she wasn’t awake to create them. Loki pressed himself low to Tikal’s back as he poured on the speed, trying to reach her—

—heard him shout for his sister—

—they weren’t going to reach her before she hit the trees—

Loki flipped a knife in his fingers and flung it, all the force of his magic and strength behind it. Its blunt end hit Jahanna square in the jaw and she jerked, flailing for a moment in midair, then blue flashed, inches above the treetops, and she sprawled across Loki’s lap. He caught her, more relieved than he cared to admit, and swatted away a dozen or more arrows that came for their heads. Jahanna sat up, wobbly and short of breath but all in one piece, and handed him a glittering blue gem. He grinned, wide and fierce.

He could hear the Vanir shouting at them, things like Aesir traitor, thief, seiðr devil, and he almost laughed at the last; couldn’t resist shouting at them, “Does the raven chide blackness?” The Vanir responded with more curses and more arrows, but the Eliacube flared bright in Jahanna’s hands, and Tikal carried them through the portal, leaving Vanaheim behind.

Chapter Text

It was amusing, Loki thought, to watch Jahanna and Tikal try to figure out how much he knew. Their communication was subtle, aided by Tikal’s telepathy, but Loki was much practiced at deciphering pointed looks from his time in Asgard’s court and it was clear that neither of them was happy.

Jahanna’s injury wasn’t serious; she’d misjudged a portal and come up directly in front of a pegasus hoof, and got the wind badly knocked out of her. Still, Tikal had insisted she at least sit down, and seemed to be using it as an excuse to keep Loki from talking to her. He was in a man’s shape, sitting protectively beside her and shooting the occasional glare in Loki’s direction. Loki, for his part, lounged at ease in one of the thronelike chairs, legs stretched in front of him and a smug smile dancing on his lips. He’d made a bet with himself how long they would equivocate, and so far he was winning.

While he waited, he toyed with the Eliacube, having managed to end up with it in the jumble of getting Jahanna inside and seated. He shifted it from shape to shape, seeing whether it had a set number of possibilities or if it was limited only by his imagination. He’d just made it into a snake, curling around his vambraces, when he sensed a change in his companions; he kept his attention on the cube and pretended not to notice until Jahanna said reluctantly, “All right. Tell us what you know.”

He owed himself a bottle of elven sweet wine. He looked up from the cube, let himself smile. “The full store of my knowledge is large. To describe it would take weeks. Perhaps you should be more specific.”

Jahanna rolled her eyes. “Go bite a dragon’s tail,” she muttered, then, “You think you know something about me. Us.”

Loki returned his attention to the Eliacube, returning it to its cube shape, as if bored. “For one of the Eliatropes’ great Council of Six, you’re being rather juvenile, don’t you think?” he said.

She was good; her reaction was mostly concealed except for a tightening around the mouth. Tikal growled, inaudible but enough to vibrate the stone floor. Loki continued, “Although I can’t figure out whether you are actually Qilby living under an assumed name – the name Qilby has definitively masculine roots, or I suppose, given the timeline involved, is the masculine root, and I believe I would have noticed if you were not female.” He smiled again, lascivious, and was rewarded by a deep blush rising to her cheeks. “So which is it?” he continued. “Are you Qilby, and the name’s masculine associations merely a trick of time, or are you one of the other five?”

“No.” She blew out a breath, looking away. “Not quite either, but neither are you exactly wrong.”

“Riddles,” he said. He touched his fingertips together and rested them against his chin, waiting pointedly.

After a minute during which she and Tikal carried out another silent conversation, she sighed and said, “All right, all right, but this will take a while. How much do you know about the history of the Eliatropes?”

“Very little,” he said. “The few stories we have are as much children’s tale as history.”

Her mouth quirked, and she shifted on the couch, settling into a storyteller’s pose. “In the time before time,” she said, and her voice, too, took on a bard’s lilt, “when dragons ruled the Krosmos, they venerated the Great Dragon and the goddess Eliatrope, who together created all life. Eventually some dragons began laying strange Dofus – dragon eggs – which each contained one dragon and one infant of a race that came to be called Eliatrope, in honor of the goddess. These first Eliatropes had a great sensitivity to primordial magic, and each was a powerful manipulator of wakfu. But within that, each of the first six ruled a particular aspect especially.”

“The Infinity Gems,” Loki murmured.

Jahanna nodded. “Reality, power, space, time, soul, and mind. Yugo, the king, was able to bend reality itself to his will. Mina had raw power, while Glip manipulated space, and was the first to develop Eliatrope portals into long-distance travel. Chibi understood the flow of time, enough that he foresaw the Eliatropes’ downfall and was able to put a plan in motion to save a few. Nora saw people’s souls, and the truth of what resides there. And Qilby… Qilby knew minds.”

“A dangerous gift.”

“Very,” Jahanna agreed, her expression solemn. “Aside from granting him a fierce cunning, his connection with the primordial force of mind meant one other thing: He forgot nothing.” She took a breath, traded a look with Tikal. “When one of the Six dies, their essence, their wakfu, returns to their Dofus. When both Eliatrope and dragon have returned to their Dofus together, they are reborn. This cycle happened thousands of times over the course of Eliatrope civilization, as the Six and their dragon siblings lived and reigned and died. But Qilby remembered beyond death.

“At first it seemed like a great gift. He didn’t have to relearn the same things over and over, so his mastery of wakfu grew with each rebirth. He could safeguard lore, and protect knowledge from generation to generation. But as time passed, as one lifetime became a dozen, became a hundred, became a thousand… Qilby began to go mad. The world of the Eliatropes became too small for him. He longed for more, for the new, for things he had not already experienced a hundred times over. So he betrayed the Eliatropes to their greatest enemy, a race called the Mechasms.”

She paused, then, looking away; Loki remembered making his own bargain with the Jotun, remembered Thanos calling her traitor, and didn’t push. Finally she started up again: “The Mechasms destroyed our homeworld and nearly wiped out our people. Thanks to Chibi’s foresight and Nora’s sacrifice, the surviving members of the Six managed to save some, hiding them away until it’s safe for their return.

“But Qilby was still a problem. They couldn’t kill him, because he would be reborn just as insane as he was then, with the memory of his betrayal of his people and what he thought of as his people’s betrayal of him. And the Six, themselves newly reborn as well but with none of their memories, would be totally unprepared to stop him. So the King banished him to the Blank Dimension, where he would languish alone and forgotten, and if it was a cruel punishment it was also the only thing they could think of.”

Jahanna paused to swallow, and Tikal, unexpectedly, took up the thread. “Shinonome, Qilby’s dragon sister, did not agree with him. She saw what he did not, that he carried his desire too far at the expense of his people. So at the end, as Qilby was banished and the last of the Eliatropes were scattered, Shinonome launched her own plan. She took with her Glip, whose brother Baltazar had gone to protect the children, and fled to this realm. Here, she laid the Dofus of Tikalukatal and Jahanna, and with Glip raised them as children of the Krosmos.”

“She gave us a spell,” Jahanna said, “and instructions to find Qilby and return him to their Dofus. She’s gone already, to prepare, but as we are born together, so must we be when we die. Once they’re both in their Dofus, Tikal and I must use the spell to discorporate them, to disperse their wakfu from them and take it for ourselves. It’s the only way to pass on the aspect of mind without allowing Qilby to be reborn once more into hatred and insanity.”

“So you’re not truly Qilby?” Loki said curiously. “The gem of mind responds to you as if you are.”

“We are, or will be, the primordial aspect of mind,” Jahanna explained. “But until Qilby returns to his Dofus with Shinonome, until we use Shinonome’s spell to free their wakfu…” She traded another glance with her brother. “We’re incomplete. Shinonome invested in Tikal all her own wakfu, save what little she needed to return to her Dofus, so he’s nearly whole. But without Qilby’s wakfu, I’m not much more powerful than a normal Eliatrope. It’s why we came for the Eliacube; we need it to perform the spell.”

Again the twins exchanged a look. Loki remembered Jahanna saying, I think you’ll fight Thanos for the same reason I am, remembered how they were both so reluctant to kill unless absolutely necessary. He said softly, “That’s why you’re willing to take on Thanos and retrieve the gems. It gives you something to place on the scales against Qilby’s treachery, when you face your king.”

They nodded in unison. Jahanna bit her lip, fiddling with a strap on her armor, and finally burst out, “If you don’t want to work with us any more—”

He laughed out loud, silencing her. “I am a traitor Jotun nīðing,” he said. “I have no standing to judge you.” Another laugh, softer, as he considered his own words. “A pair of traitors, each their people’s most hated villain, working together to defeat one of the universe’s greatest evils for the sake of the very people who despise them. It’s the stuff of legend. The only thing that would make the bards happier would be if one of us died in the process.”

The corner of her mouth quirked. “Well, don’t do that.”

“I’ve no plans to,” he said, and smiled back.

They fell into silence after that, each lost in thought. Something about their story was nagging at Loki, half-formed ideas flitting through his mind. “What is the Blank Dimension?” he asked at length.

“That?” Jahanna blinked; it was clearly not the part of their tale she’d expected him to focus on. “It’s the space between here—” she created a portal with one hand “—and here.” A second portal. She reached between them, wiggling her fingers where they emerged on the other side. “Only an Eliatrope with an Eliacube can access and navigate it.”

“And this spell to… you said discorporate,” he said. “Release their wakfu, their life force?”

“Yes. It’s not killing them – when we die, our wakfu simply returns to our Dofus – but more like… intercepting their wakfu upon death, preventing it from returning to their Dofus and directing it to us instead.”

“Where else would it go? One of the lands of the dead?”

She shrugged. “Dissolved like that, probably back to the primordial sea, to join the wakfu there.”

The half-formed plan was taking shape now in his mind. He turned it over, looking at the pieces, and considered. He said, “When we first met, you said you didn’t think anyone knew about the Eliacubes any more. Eliacubes, plural.”

Jahanna glanced at Tikal, then back to Loki, confusion evident on her face. “Yes?”

“How many are there?” he asked. “As far as either Thanos’s knowledge or Aesir history have recorded, there is only the one.”

“Chibi’s plan had been to make one for each of the Six. That one is Nora’s.” She nodded toward the cube Loki still held. “You can hear her spirit sometimes, if you listen. And the King had one, when he banished Qilby. I don’t know how many more were finished, before the Mechasms came.”

“Do you know where to find the other one?”

“No, but I know where to find someone who would.” Her eyes narrowed. “You have an idea.”

He smiled, and it was the dangerous smile, the one the Three had feared, the one that made even Thor nervous. “I know how to defeat Thanos.”

Chapter Text

“I’m telling you,” Tony said, “it’s a weaponized Einstein-Rosen bridge.”

“No way,” Jane retorted. “There’s no way she’s spontaneously generating multiple controlled black and white holes. The energy required would be…” She waved her hands. “Enormous.”

Thor rubbed his eyes, not sure if he was trying to keep awake or encourage himself to sleep. Banner was talking now, something about the Infinity Gem and gamma radiation and the conservation of energy. Thor couldn’t help but admire how, once Jane got over her initial awe at meeting the famous – or infamous – Tony Stark, she’d jumped into the discussion with both feet, holding her own against both him and Banner. Still, even Allspeak wasn’t helping Thor understand what they were saying, as they tried to apply what they’d seen of Jahanna’s portals to Jane’s work to recreate the Bifrost.

They were arguing about wavelengths, analogues, and Hawking radiation (and Thor could not help but wonder how many different types of radiation any one realm needed) when Captain Rogers walked in, holding a talking device to his ear. He glanced around the room, spotted Stark, and held out the device. “It’s Miss Potts,” he said. “She tried to call your phone but you weren’t answering.”

“She did? I wasn’t?” Stark said, and frowned in confusion, patting his pockets. “Where the hell is my phone, anyway? I swear I didn’t drop it into anything this time…”

“You gave it to a SHIELD tech two hours ago,” Banner said patiently. “So she could find those parts you were looking for.”

“I did? Huh.” Stark took the Captain’s phone and gave it a dubious look. “We have got to get you a real phone, Cap, this thing is ancient.”

“It’s brand new,” Rogers said, a little huffily.

“It’s a clamshell,” Stark said, in the tone of one describing something utterly foul. He held the phone to his ear. “Pepper, hey, what’s up? …Yeah, sure.” He glanced at Thor. “Yeah, he is. Sure, gimme a sec. Fred Flintstone here uses a phone with actual analog buttons.”

He turned to the big display on the wall, his fingers dancing over the phone in a way that looked to Thor like Loki working magic. Over his shoulder, to Thor, Tony said, “Pepper’s got something for you, she wants to show—” He stopped talking as the Lady Pepper appeared on the screen, as elegant and commanding as the last time Thor had seen her.

Loki stood beside her, scepter held loosely in one hand and a self-satisfied smile playing on his lips.

“Oh my God,” Tony breathed, then, “You bastard, you get away from her, you get away from her right now, you—I will kill you, I’ll tear you to pieces and give them to Dummy to put back together, I’ll wire crossed electrodes into your—”

Loki’s smile widened, bright and wicked. “Is it wise, Mister Stark,” he asked, “to make such dire threats when you are all the way over there, and I am right here?”

Tony sucked in a breath through his teeth, fists clenching at his sides. Lady Pepper said quickly, “It’s fine, Tony, I’m fine. He hasn’t done anything. I’m all right.” Unspoken but clear was don’t do anything which might risk that. Tony twitched, visibly furious and terrified for her, but he got himself under control.

Loki scanned the room; Thor had no idea how the mortals’ video technology worked but it seemed as if Loki met his eyes through the screen. “Thor,” he said, and there was a playful tone to his voice that Thor didn’t like. “I have news which may interest you.”

Unease curled in Thor’s gut. He’d seen Loki like this before – although never with the bitter edge of madness twisting his words – and knew that whatever he was up to, it would not end well. “Stop playing games, brother,” he snapped.

“Games?” Loki repeated, touching a hand to his chest as if wounded. “Why, brother,” and the word dripped with acid, “I’m hurt that you could think I’d play games with my own kingdom.”

Thor’s turn to catch his breath; Loki was talking about Asgard. “What have you done?” he demanded.

Loki gave a long-suffering sigh. “Why does everyone always assume I have done something?”

“I don’t know,” Tony snapped, evidently unable to hold his tongue any longer. “Maybe because you’re an evil scheming monster who—”

Banner stepped between Tony and the screen, blocking his view. “Sit down, Tony,” he said quietly.

Tony’s eyes flicked past Banner to Loki; his expression promised murder but he allowed Banner to steer him to a chair by the worktable, while Loki watched with obvious amusement. Thor wanted desperately to reach through the screen, to grab Loki by the shoulders and shake the madness out of him, shake him until he remembered that he was a prince of Asgard, a son of Odin, Thor’s brother. Not this monster, not this demon wearing Loki’s skin. To the screen he said, “Deliver your message and begone, before you cause any more havoc.”

Loki tsk’d. “So impatient,” he murmured. “But if that’s your wish: Thanos the Mad Titan and his Chitauri army have invaded Asgard, and overthrown its meager defenses to capture the throne. Good-bye.” He made as if to leave.

“No, wait,” Thor whispered. His legs wanted to give way, and he reached out to lean on the table. “What did you say?”

Loki’s smile as he turned back to the screen was a terrible thing. Thor was suddenly grateful for Lady Pepper; if she could stand so calmly beside Loki then surely Thor could face him with the span of a continent between them. He made himself let go of the table and stand straight as Loki said, “Were my words too complex for you, Thunderer?” He enunciated with deliberate, exaggerated care: “Asgard has fallen, and Thanos sits on the golden throne.”

Thor shook his head, not sure which part he was trying to deny. “What of Father and Mother?” he made himself ask. “They would not stand by while Asgard was threatened.”

Loki rolled his eyes. “Odin Allfather is a useless old fool who spent the last of his energy to send you here. Thanos slew him where he slept.”

“You’re lying!” Thor shouted. “You lied to me before about his death—”

“So I did,” Loki interrupted. “Although at that time I was trying to ensure the stability of Asgard. After all, if you got the notion into your thick skull that you might still be fit for the throne, and charged back to Asgard to overthrow the rightful king, why, Asgard might have fallen into chaos—Oh, wait. That’s exactly what happened, isn’t it?” He showed teeth in an expression too vicious to be a smile; it twisted Thor’s stomach, sent chills running through him. “Had you accepted your punishment, Odinson, and learned the lesson you were meant, perhaps I would never have met Thanos, and perhaps Asgard and Midgard both would be at peace.”

“Loki—” Thor started, but Loki talked over him, voice snapping like a whip. “But the only peace for the Nine Realms now, brother, is that which comes from submitting to Thanos’s will. And when his army finally captures your mother, she will die knowing that her kingdom fell because of you.”

Thor sat down hard, his blood turned to ice in his veins. Loki was lying, he had to be, he always lied…

“Wait,” Jane said suddenly. “She’s not dead yet? Your mom’s not dead?” Thor brought his head up in shock and stared at her, but Jane was watching Loki, whose eyes had narrowed to angry green slits.

“No,” Loki spat. “No, she yet lives, thanks to the sacrifice of Thor’s friends.” His gaze went back to Thor and he gave that ugly smile again. “So will you now run to her rescue, Odinson? Of course you will; she’s no Jotun, after all. But you’d better hurry, or else you’ll be lighting her funeral pyre beside those of your precious Sif and her Three.”

“Why tell me this?” Thor demanded, his voice cracking. He couldn’t bear to think of Sif dead, of Hogun and Fandral and Volstagg fallen without him beside them as he should have been. “What do you want?”

“What do I want?” Loki asked, incredulous. “I want…” and again the acid in his voice, the bitter desire to wound, to rend and destroy, “for you to know what it is to lose everything, Thor O-din-son.” He spat out the patronym as he had on the mountain a week ago, mocking and furious. “I wanted to see your face when you learned that you have no home to return to.” He leaned toward the screen, green eyes like the void piercing straight into Thor’s soul, and a smile like Death. “It’s a beautiful sight.”

Thor was frozen as Loki stepped back and licked his lips, his face smoothing once more into calm expressionlessness. He turned to the Lady Pepper and bowed, genteel and courteous, saying, “Thank you for your assistance, my lady. You are a far better queen than Mister Stark deserves.” A glance back at the screen, a polite nod to Thor and the rest – “Farewell, gentlemen” – a flicker of gold, and he was gone.

Lady Pepper sagged, one hand coming up to cover her mouth, the emotions she’d been keeping in check suddenly coming to the fore. Tony leaped from his chair and went to the screen as if he could reach through it to comfort her. “Pepper, talk to me, are you okay, did he hurt you? If he hurt you I’ll kill him, I don’t care about international alien treaties, I’ll—”

“No, it’s okay. I’m fine,” Pepper interrupted, talking over him until he fell silent. “Tony, I’m fine. He didn’t touch me. He… He showed up in the office block and found one of the secretaries, and asked to be put in touch with Thor. Politely. The secretary didn’t know what to do; she called me and I came down to get him. He never threatened me. He was… he was a gentleman, the whole time.”

“Let me see your eyes,” Tony ordered. “If he mind-whammied you…”

“He didn’t,” Pepper said, but still leaned forward a little so they could see her eyes, clear and bright and without a hint of the scepter’s malevolent blue power. Tony passed a hand over his face and looked away, taking a deep breath. Banner rested a hand on Tony’s shoulder.

Thor paid them all little heed, still reeling from Loki’s words. They were lies, they had to be – but which part was lie, and which truth? For Loki almost always threaded some truth into his lies, however small. He’d told Thor once that it was the best way to lie: to take a truth that the listener could not dispute, and build upon that foundation an equally indisputable lie. But so much of what he’d said was impossible – for Asgard to have fallen, for Odin to be dead, for Sif and Hogun and Fandral and Volstagg to be gone…

Thor buried his face in his hands, dragged his fingers back through his hair, and looked up at Jane, who stood beside him, one hand hovering by his arm as if she wanted to comfort him but wasn’t sure how. “I have to go back,” he said to her, and pushed to his feet. “If there is any truth to my brother’s words… I have to go back.”

“How?” she asked. “We don’t have anything close to a working Einstein-Rosen bridge yet, and Loki still has the Tesseract.”

“I’ll have to use the Infinity Gem,” he said. “It should… it should work. To carry one man, it may work. I think.”

“No,” Captain Rogers said suddenly. Thor started; the captain had been so quiet the whole time he’d forgotten he was there. “Absolutely not.”

Thor glared at him, opening his mouth to protest, but Rogers spoke over him. “I told you before: we’re a team now. You don’t go running off on your own. Period.”

“He’s right, Thor,” Jane said gently, and Thor turned his glare to her. She hunched her shoulders but held her ground. “You don’t even know if the gem can do that. What if something goes wrong?”

“It’s too dangerous,” Rogers added. “Once we have a functional bridge—”

“You ask me,” Thor ground out, “to sit and do nothing while my kingdom is overrun—” He took a step toward Rogers. “—my friends have fallen—” Another step. “—and my mother’s life is in danger?”

He was looming over the Captain now, practically nose to nose with him, but Rogers didn’t back down. He looked up at Thor with a calm, quiet certainty, and said, “I’m ordering you to wait. We’re going to stop Loki and save your world and ours. But we can’t do that if we all jump when Loki says frog. So stand down, Thor. Now.”

To his own surprise, Thor found himself complying. Rogers looked around the room, meeting Tony’s and Banner’s and Jane’s eyes in turn, and they, too, seemed to relax a little. Some distant part of Thor could not help but admire the captain’s sheer presence, the way he could make it seem as if everything would work out, even while the world collapsed around them. By the time Rogers looked back at him, Thor had himself mostly under control, the desire to rush off to Asgard shoved down where he could keep from acting on it.

Rogers nodded to himself, apparently satisfied. He said, “Banner, Stark, Miss Foster. Keep working on that bridge. If anything Loki said was true, we’ll need to get to Asgard as soon as we can. Thor, come with me. There’s something I want to ask you.”

Chapter Text

Captain Rogers led Thor down the hall into a small private meeting chamber, and closed the door behind them. Thor watched him with his arms folded over his chest; he might have his desire to rush headlong off to Asgard under control, but it was still there, a burning itch beneath his skin, and it took effort to contain it. He said, “What did you want to ask me?”

Rogers crossed to the table in the center of the room, visibly restless, which told Thor immediately that this conversation would not be pleasant. Rogers asked abruptly, “Not counting the Helicarrier, since he intended to be there, has your brother ever been held captive? Imprisoned?”

“What?” Thor said, startled. “No, of course not.”

“You sure?”

“Yes.” Thor scowled at him. “I would never abandon my brother to an enemy.” Rogers didn’t look convinced, though, so Thor swallowed his annoyance enough to say, “Why do you ask?”

“I…” Rogers sighed and leaned on the table, arms braced, shoulders hunched, his eyes staring into a distance Thor couldn’t see. “During the war – my war, before I came here – my squad got sent on a lot of rescue missions. Ones most people thought were hopeless, going after prisoners that HYDRA had had for weeks or months. Most of the men we got out, they were okay after a while, but some of them…” He took a deep breath, his expression grim. “Some of them weren’t. Especially the ones who got the worst of HYDRA’s… treatments.”

“What are you saying?” Thor asked.

The captain met Thor’s eyes. “Loki acts – and looks and talks – like the guys who never came back all the way. The ones HYDRA hurt.”

“Torture,” Thor said, appalled. “You think Loki was tortured?”

“You don’t?” Rogers said. “We know he’s under someone’s thumb—”

“If Loki works for anyone, it is because he chooses to do so,” Thor growled.

“What makes you so sure?”

“My father and Heimdall were both searching for Loki, after he fell,” Thor said. “We thought it fruitless, since no one could survive the void, but Father persisted anyway.” He didn’t mention the whispers among the ranks of noblemen that the loss of both his younger son and the Bifrost had finally stressed Odin’s ancient mind past the breaking point. “They would have seen him as soon as he landed in the Chitauri realm. That they did not, means Loki must have hidden himself from them. Why would he do that, if he were being tortured?”

“You said Loki…” Rogers hesitated. “Did some pretty bad things before he fell. Maybe your father—”

Thor slammed a fist onto the table hard enough to crack it. “My father,” he snarled, “would never allow his son to be tortured. I know you mortals think us barbarians, that we fight with swords and hold to the ancient ways, but we would never stand by and watch while one of ours was brutalized, no matter what he might have done.”

“Are you sure?” Rogers said bluntly.

Thor sighed. The rush of anger was already fading; he was too used to dealing with Loki’s schemes to waste much energy on them at this point. He said, “I love my brother, but he earned the name Liesmith of his own accord. If his words or actions make you feel sympathy for him, it is only because he wants you to feel that way. He is mad, yes, but his reason was lost long before he fell into the void.”

“All right,” Rogers said reluctantly. Thor could tell he wasn’t satisfied, but the mortals had had little experience with Loki’s more subtle trickery, while Thor had suffered it for an Aesir’s lifetime. Thankfully, before he had to yet again explain his brother’s mischief, Rogers changed the subject: “This Thanos guy Loki mentioned. What do you know about him?”

“Very little,” Thor admitted. “He’s dead, or supposed to be. Long before I was born, he tried to destroy the Nine Realms. My father and his brothers and their father fought him. It was a hard-won battle, and they only managed to defeat him by casting him into the void.”

“Which is apparently not the death sentence your people thought it was.”

“…True,” Thor said, and considered for a moment. “I wonder if my father knew, if that’s why he kept searching for Loki.”

“If he knew Thanos survived, he’d have known Loki could, too,” Rogers said. “Could Thanos have hidden Loki?”

Thor shook his head. “If Thanos did not hide himself from Odin, it’s unlikely he’d have hidden Loki. Besides, Loki is a prince of Asgard, and marked as such. When he fell, he had with him… tokens of the royal house. Even if Thanos had known Loki was coming, and had prepared to hide him as soon as he arrived, he could not have hidden those. Loki is the only person who’s ever managed to do that.”

The captain’s mouth thinned, and Thor knew he still didn’t believe him. But Rogers didn’t press the point, and said only, “What else do you know about Thanos? Loki called him, what was it, the Mad Titan?”

“Yes.” Thor frowned in thought. “He was known for an obsession with death. He was the original owner of the Infinity Gauntlet, which my father and uncles recovered during the battle.” He considered for another minute, but came up blank. “I’m sorry. Thanos is little more than an old legend in Asgard.”

“Odin didn’t mention him, when he sent you back here?” Rogers asked. “Seems like if he knew Thanos and Loki both fell through the void, and Loki shows back up to steal a relic that used to be Thanos’s, it’s not a big jump to them working together.”

Thor shook his head again, uneasy. “He only told me about the Chitauri, the first time he sent me here.”

“All right,” the captain said, though he didn’t sound any happier about it than Thor felt. “It’s still more than we had before. Loki’s working for Thanos, who wants the Infinity Gauntlet to destroy the Nine Realms.”

“And in exchange,” Thor said grimly, “he’ll help Loki take his revenge on me.”

“We still don’t know where the Eliatrope comes into it,” Rogers said, “but hopefully when we capture her we’ll get some more answers.” His jaw set in the way that meant he’d made a decision, and he ordered, “Stay with Miss Foster. Loki threatened Stark’s girl, he may threaten yours.”

Thor shivered, remembering Loki’s words when they’d fought in Heimdall’s observatory. “He already has.”

“We’ll protect her,” Rogers said, and clapped Thor on the shoulder. “Go. …And, Thor?”

Thor paused in the doorway. Rogers said quietly, “Think about what I said. About Loki.”

“And you,” Thor said without turning, “think on what I said, about the Liesmith.”

He left, back to Jane as fast as his feet would carry him.

* * *

Natasha was in the base’s small gym, stretching muscles still sore from New York, when Captain Rogers found her. She kept stretching, privately amused by the way he stared at her for a moment before catching himself and looking away hurriedly. He was assimilating well to the new millennium, all things considered, but he still had the sensibilities of a young man from the early forties, and a woman in skintight yoga clothes doing a full king pigeon pose was far outside his experience. “Agent Romanoff,” he said, a little stiffly.

“Captain,” she answered. After a moment in which it became clear that he wasn’t going to look at her, which would make talking awkward, she took pity on him and untwisted into a simple lotus.

He glanced at her quickly, then visibly relaxed and turned to face her properly. “I need to ask you something.”

“Sure,” she said.

He told her about Loki turning up in Stark Tower, what he’d said about Asgard and Thanos, what he’d said to Thor. And he told her about his own conversation with Thor, and Thor’s steadfast refusal to even consider his brother might, for once, not be trying to deceive him. When he finished, he said, “You talked to Loki on the Helicarrier last week. You got a read on him. What do you think?”

She thought about it for a couple of minutes, absently stretching her shoulders. Finally she said, “I don’t think it was my ledger Loki was talking about, on the ‘Carrier.”

Rogers took a deep breath and looked away, although she could still read both the disappointment and the relief on his face. Disappointment, she suspected, because he’d been half-hoping he was wrong about Loki’s motives; relief because it meant they had a chance. He said, “When Loki comes back, try to get him talking. If he’s not working for Thanos by choice, I want to know, and I want to know what we’d need to do to turn Loki against him.”

Natasha nodded. Rogers hesitated, then added, “And… don’t tell Thor.”

She studied his face for a moment, but he met her gaze steadily. She said softly, “Yes, sir.”

Chapter Text

“Goddess,” Jahanna whispered. “Are they all for us?”

Loki gave her a dry look. “I think one squadron, at least, might be for the Chitauri army in Asgard.”

They’d left for Alfheim right after Loki got back from Midgard. He’d gone to lay the foundation for his plan – and, he wouldn’t deny, to take the opportunity to jab at Thor and the mortals. He thought it had gone quite well: Thor was predictable, his friends equally so. And it had been a relief to finally say some of the things he’d had far too much time in the void to think on. Jahanna had given him that sideways look when he’d got back, but hadn’t said anything, and Loki had been content to let the matter drop.

Now they lay on their stomachs, peering over the edge of a cliff high on the side of a mountain. Tikal, in bird form, was scouting somewhere overhead. Below them spread a vast plain, which not long ago had probably been a verdant field, but now was trampled into mud by the boots of thousands of elven warriors. Bright banners and clusters of tents marked where different clans had staked out their territory, though the warriors moved with precise discipline, various factions coming together like clockwork. The army of Alfheim rarely mobilized, but when it did it was among the most feared in all the realms.

Jahanna swatted Loki on the shoulder without looking away from the field. “All this minus one squadron. That makes me feel much better, thank you.”

“My pleasure,” Loki said. He swallowed; despite the banter, it really was intimidating to look upon Alfheim’s gathered forces. “We knew it would only get worse as word spread of Asgard’s fall.”

“‘Worse’ is one thing,” Jahanna said. “This is ridiculous.”

“When it’s Thanos,” Loki said, “there is no such thing as ridiculous.”

A hunting call sounded overhead, and Jahanna cocked her head to one side, her expression going distant for a moment. “Tikal says there are more encampments to the south and the west, and three more battalions on their way,” she said.

Loki nodded. “We should get to it, then. Waiting won’t help things.” He rolled away from the cliff’s edge, keeping his head low, and summoned the Eliacube. He held it close to his body, shielding its light as he invoked the locating spell. After the brilliance of the link between Jahanna and the Mind Gem, he had expected any connection to look less bright… but the result of the spell was not so much less bright as completely nonexistent. Frowning, he recast the spell, again saw no result, and did it once more. Still nothing, and he began to worry.

“What’s wrong?” Jahanna asked.

“It’s not working,” he said. “There’s nothing. It’s as if there’s no…” He stopped, looked over at her. “No gem here.”

“You think the Allfather lied about where they were,” Jahanna said.

His hand motioned restlessly; he forced it to be still. “I don’t know. Perhaps? Maybe we’re too far for it to work…?”

“Let me have the Eliacube,” she said. “We can at least try to see if it’s anywhere in the realm.”

Tikal dove to land beside her, shifting to a man’s form as Loki handed over the cube. They each reached a hand toward the cube, and the blue light of its magic flowed out toward them. Loki muttered a quick spell under his breath to hide the light from the elves’ sharp eyes, though it hardly mattered: after only a moment the twins sat back and the glow faded. Jahanna said nervously, “I can’t feel a gem anywhere in the realm. There’s just not enough wakfu for a gem to be here.”

Loki made himself take a deep breath, but his fingers still curled into the dirt at his sides and fear rose like bile in his throat. If Odin had lied, if they could not retrieve all the Infinity Gems… No. The gem could not have vanished from all existence; it had to be hidden somewhere. All he had to do was find it. He could do that, had planned to do it anyway before he’d spied on Odin to learn their locations. There was no reason to panic. No reason to imagine what Thanos would do to him if he failed, to remember the Other’s cold fingers and slithering magic—

Stop.

—remembered Jahanna’s voice, remembered her promise. He dragged air past a throat tight with fear, and managed, “That… that thing you did, when we… when we met…” Swallow. Breathe. “Perhaps you could…?”

“This?” she asked quietly, and as her palms began to glow a soft blue there was the sound of cracking glass, and Loki felt something deep inside him ease. He reached over and grabbed her hand, his motions jerky and unsteady; she put her other hand on his shoulder and he leaned into her touch, until the panic receded and he could breathe easily once more.

“The aspect of mind,” he mused. “Perhaps the Fates intended for us to meet.”

Her mouth quirked. “Nora would’ve been better.”

“I’m mad,” he reminded her gently. “Madness is of the mind, not the soul.”

“True.” Her almost-smile turned sad. “And I suppose the wounds in your soul are not so easily mended as those in your mind.”

He thought about growing up hated. About being endlessly taunted and teased and tormented, and told when he’d shown his pain that he was weak. Thought about touching the Casket of Ancient Winters for the first time, the sick horror when he realized the truth of his own foulness. About finally understanding that he would never be worthy, never be equal to his golden brother.

No, Loki.

“No,” he whispered. “I suppose not.”

“It will come in time,” Tikalukatal said, and rested a hand on Loki’s shoulder. Jahanna squeezed his fingers, and Loki allowed himself to believe, just for a moment, that they genuinely cared about him.

But no matter how he wanted it, the moment could not last forever. Loki said, a little gruffly, “We should leave. If the gem isn’t here, I’d rather not risk being caught by the elves.”

Jahanna squeezed his fingers once more, then let go. “How do you plan to find it, then?” she asked.

“The search you did just now,” Loki said. “Can you use it to identify which realms have a gem?”

She shook her head. “All we were really doing was looking at how much ambient wakfu the realm has. This realm doesn’t have much to begin with, so it was pretty obvious the gem isn’t here. But a realm like Vanaheim, or Midgard for that matter, where there’s a lot of wakfu, we wouldn’t be able to tell for sure.”

Something tugged at the edge of Loki’s mind, and he frowned. “On Midgard,” he said thoughtfully. “Do you recall how we had trouble fixing the direction of the locating spell?”

She nodded. “You said you thought it was the distance, because it got more stable as we got closer.”

“I didn’t think of it at the time, but the spell could have been behaving so because it could not decide where to point, until we got close.” Loki snapped his fingers, annoyed. “Earth. No wonder Odin sent Thor there; it has two gems, and Asgard had already lost its one.”

“Why did he lie about it, then?” Jahanna said. “What does he gain by sending us to Alfheim? He had to have known we’d realize it wasn’t here and go looking for it elsewhere.”

Loki shook his head. “I don’t know. To get us caught by the elves, perhaps. Or a delaying tactic, to give Thor and his friends on Midgard more time to prepare.”

“But we learned about Alfheim from him telling Thor. Would Thor even know he needs to guard another gem?”

“The SHIELD director would,” Loki said grimly. “He doesn’t miss much. If there’s another gem on Midgard, he’d know of it.”

“So… back to Midgard?” Jahanna said. “Again?”

“Apparently,” Loki agreed, and sighed. “Damn. I’d hoped we were finally quit of that realm.”

“No such luck,” Jahanna said, and cracked her knuckles. “Well, seems it’s time for a second go-round with your brother and his friends. Perhaps I’ll impress you a little more this time.”

He raised an eyebrow at her. “They’ll be ready for us this time.”

“And we’ll be ready for them,” she retorted.

Tikal looked briefly skyward in exasperation. “You are too eager to fight, sister,” he said.

“At least she doesn’t run ahead to meet her enemy alone,” Loki said. “Thor used to do that often, until he took one too many blows that could have been avoided had he waited for the rest of us. Hogun once threatened to leash him like a hunting dog.”

Tikal rumbled thoughtfully. Jahanna elbowed him in the ribs and shot Loki a glare. “Don’t give him ideas!”

Loki responded with his best innocent face. “I was merely relating an anecdote,” he said. “Any ideas he gets from it are not my responsibility.”

She narrowed her eyes at them both. “I don’t like this,” she announced. “You’re teaming up against me.”

“Lies,” Loki said. A thought occurred to him, and he grinned and added, “I rather like having another condemned liar around. It’s nice to be the accuser, for once.”

Jahanna laughed, and even Tikal cracked a small smile. “All right, all right,” Jahanna said, and flung her hands into the air in an exaggerated gesture of resignation. “Shall we go steal another gem from under your brother’s nose, or would you rather the elves caught us?”

Loki stood up and offered a hand to pull Jahanna to her feet. Tikal shifted form again to an ermine and wrapped around her shoulders. Loki said, “Who am I to deny so eager a lady? Perhaps this time you could take the green beast to task. He was crueler than strictly necessary in New York, and I’ve yet to pay him back.”

Jahanna smiled wide enough to show her fangs. “I think we can manage something.”

Chapter Text

It was near sundown when a klaxon blared through the building, making Jane and Banner jump. Tony, elbow-deep in something metallic and sparking, jerked in surprise and then swore, pulling his arms out of the device and shaking his fingers. Thor, for his part, had been on edge for hours, ever since Loki had contacted them from Stark Tower. Hearing the alarm was almost a relief – it meant something would happen, instead of this terrible waiting.

Agent Hill’s voice broke through the siren: “Evacuation procedure Lambda-Red is in effect. All personnel, proceed to your lockdown stations. Avengers, report to Command.”

“That’s us,” Tony said, and glanced at Banner, who was already digging the Infinity Gem out of the mess of wires and less-explicable things it was attached to. “You ready for this?”

“Sure,” Banner said, though he looked uneasy.

Tony turned to Thor next, but for once, said nothing, just met Thor’s eyes solemnly. Thor nodded, one hand closing around Mjölnir’s hilt at his belt. He put his other hand on Jane’s back, resisting the urge to simply sweep her off her feet and carry her to safety. She gave him what was probably meant to be a reassuring smile, but he could see the worry behind it, the fear for him.

“I’ll stop him,” he told her quietly, as they followed Banner and Tony out of the lab and into the stream of SHIELD personnel swarming through the halls. “I’ll stop him and you’ll build a new Bifrost, and we’ll save Asgard.”

“I know,” Jane said. She wrapped her arms around his neck and he bent to her kiss, drawing away only when Tony shouted at them from further down the hall. She squeezed Thor’s hand and said, “Better get going.”

“Be safe,” he answered, and kissed her once more on the forehead before letting go of her and hurrying after his companions.

Director Fury’s temporary command center was near the entrance on the first floor of the base’s main building, and the three Avengers had to fight their way through still more swarms of SHIELD agents to get inside. Captain Rogers and Agents Barton and Romanoff were already there, dressed for battle in their strange Midgard armor, while Director Fury and Agent Hill stood in opposite corners of the room, heads bent to the talking devices in their ears, calling orders.

The director glanced up first; when he saw Thor and the others, he cut off his conversation and strode over to where the six of them had gathered around a table. “Our guys spotted Loki outside the Alabama base a couple minutes ago,” he told them. With a motion to one of his aides, he called an image to the screen behind him: the chewed-up courtyard of the Alabama base, with Loki and Jahanna at the edge of the frame. As before, on the roof of Stark’s tower, Loki was casting a spell with the Tesseract floating between his palms. His expression was openly exasperated, and he tilted his head to say something to Jahanna. She rolled her eyes and responded, then they both disappeared in a flicker of magic.

“Satellites picked them up again on the eastern edge of Arkansas, and I just got another report of a sighting at the border by Texarkana, ” Fury continued. “They’re making their way pretty steadily west. You’ve got less than ten minutes before they get here.”

“Is Building Two ready?” Agent Romanoff asked.

“Just like you asked,” Fury said. “You got the gem?”

Banner held it up. It was an innocuous little thing, a plain purple oval that glowed dully in the harsh artificial light. Such a small thing, and Thor didn’t want to think about how many people had been hurt or killed because Loki wanted it and its five mates. But Fury just nodded. “Good,” he said. “Get moving. This ends here.”

* * *

The locating spell brightened with each successive portal, although Loki found himself developing a new respect for just how big Midgard was. They hadn’t even reached the second gem, yet they’d already covered a distance some three or four times the size of Asgard – and had traveled even further from Stark Tower to the location of the first gem three days ago. They’d stopped portaling as they drew near, and now flew on Tikal’s broad red wings across empty desert, squinting into the setting sun. The area rather resembled the place where Thor had landed after his banishment, though the briefness of Loki’s own visit and the tendency of deserts everywhere to look the same meant that he could not tell for sure.

In the midst of all the reddish rock, the SHIELD base stood out like a silver beacon. Webbed-metal towers topped with huge shallow bowls jutted into the sunset, and around their feet were four low buildings whose roofs were paneled with black glass. No humans were visible, and the fleet of motor vehicles lined up along one edge of the base was still. Tikal landed in a blast of sand from the downbeat of his wings; Loki gestured and a breeze swirled the air clear as he and Jahanna dropped to the ground.

“Where is everyone?” Jahanna muttered.

“Hiding,” Loki said. “My brother and his friends don’t need mortal shields this time.” He scanned the area briefly before letting his eyes follow the bright blue line of the locating spell into one of the buildings. It plunged at a sharp angle into the ground, meaning their target was probably buried deep in the lower levels of the building.

Jahanna glanced at him as Tikal, back again in his ermine shape, settled around her neck, half-hidden by her hair. “And where is your brother?” she asked.

“Also hiding.” Loki offered her his arm. “They’re going to try to ambush us.”

“Eyes open, then,” she said. She took his arm, and together they headed into the building.

They saw no one inside, not hiding under desks or fleeing around corners. The outer doors weren’t locked; neither were any of the interior doors they came across. Many of them were automatic and Loki wasn’t sure if they could be locked, but it was still a plain indicator of a trap. Thor and his friends wanted Loki and Jahanna deep underground, away from innocent mortals, where they had fewer avenues of escape even with an Eliatrope’s portals. The only reassuring thing was that the locating spell proved the Infinity Gem had to be down there as well.

They stopped walking arm-in-arm after only a minute or two. It was a nice display when there were people around to be unsettled by its insouciance, but with the possibility of an ambush at any moment it was dangerous. Loki held the Eliacube, shaped like a magpie, on his fingers and focused on finding a path through the building toward the gem – no easy task when they were close enough that the line pointed mostly straight down through the floor. Jahanna and Tikal roamed in a small circle around him, peering down hallways and into empty rooms.

The silence in the building was unnerving. Even in the short time he’d spent on Midgard nearly two weeks ago, he’d grown used to their buildings being full of strange hums and clicks and rumbles, as electronic devices and lights and air movement systems sang their activity. Yet except for the low buzz of the bright artificial lights, there was no sound at all. There were certainly devices around – he could see them in the rooms they passed, mounted in boxes on the walls, hidden behind vents on the ceiling – but they had all been silenced. The dark screens and blank panels watched them like damning eyes, and despite himself Loki was beginning to feel uneasy.

Finally, some six floors belowground, the line of the locating spell went horizontal, indicating that they’d reached the same level as the gem. Loki caught Jahanna’s eye briefly, and she nodded. Her fox ears were raised, alert; her whole body was tensed and blue light flickered occasionally on her palms where she held wakfu at the ready. Then Tikal’s head came up, his tiny ermine ears pricked forward. Jahanna and Loki both followed his gaze to a door partway down the hall, standing open and unassuming, bright light spilling out across the hall.

Loki checked the angle and intensity of the locating spell – the gem was almost certainly inside that room. Inside his head, Tikal’s voice said, “Use caution. Tikalukatal fears we are about to walk into a trap.”

Of course we are, Loki thought back, and sensed Tikal’s answering amusement. He signaled to Jahanna to stay behind him and sidled up next to the door, keeping out of the line of sight of anyone inside. Here, at last, he could hear the noise that had been missing from the rest of the building: a persistent rustling hum, like the rush of wind or the flow of water – more than enough to hide the soft sounds of humans waiting in ambush. He debated using a veil to cover their entrance, but he rather suspected the humans had been watching their progress using hidden mechanical eyes, and likely knew they were here. Besides, however dense Thor might be when it came to Loki’s illusions, his teammates, at least, were smarter – and the metal man could see through a veil.

Straightforward it was, then. Loki vanished the Eliacube for safekeeping, then glanced once more at Jahanna; she met his eyes and grinned. He couldn’t help but smile back, and he carried that smile with him as he stepped around the doorway and strode into the center of the room.

* * *

Demigods, it had turned out, could not see in the dark. They could, however, see in significantly less light than humans, which meant that enough light for standard night-vision goggles risked being enough light for Loki to see by – and none of them knew what an Eliatrope’s vision was like. So the Avengers had begun experimenting, with Thor as a test subject.

Dr. Banner had suggested thermal nightvision, but they discovered that Aesir didn’t have the same heat signatures as humans, and then Clint had pointed out that thermal images were too hazy for the kind of precision shots he’d need to make; Thor warned that Loki had always had a rather low body temperature for an Aesir, which would further distort the image; and Stark had added that the Tesseract played havoc with thermals and Jahanna’s portals appeared to use a similar energy.

It was Captain Rogers’ idea to add active infrared back to the standard-issue G4 goggles. The reason infrared had been abandoned decades ago was because the enemy had had the same technology and could therefore see your infrared as easily as you could. But apparently even demigods saw in more or less the same visual spectrum as mere mortals, and Loki was unlikely to have a spare pair of infrared goggles on his person. The incredible Stark manufacturing machine had leaped into action, and now, sitting in wait in the sixth basement floor of SHIELD’s Building Two, all six Avengers wore modified infrared night-vision goggles, ready to be switched on in an instant.

Natasha crouched just behind the Captain, tucked back beside a pair of tall metal shelving units against one wall of the huge storeroom. From her position, she could see Clint, likewise hidden behind the Hulk across the room; she knew he would have preferred to be up high in a vent or on a catwalk or something, but the building’s lower levels were not designed for hawks. A metal desk far to one side showed an occasional flash of red that could be either Thor or Stark.

Agent Hill had been reporting Loki and Jahanna’s position via comm; SHIELD agents had been tracking them ever since they stepped into the building via video, audio, and even seismic sensors. Now Hill said, “They’re right outside your door. They’re cautious. Definitely expecting a trap.”

None of the Avengers dared answer, not with their targets in hearing range despite the white-noise generator, but Natasha felt Rogers tense, and saw the Hulk’s fists clench. She ran over the plan once more in her head, double-checking the angle at which she’d have to stand to get a clear shot; confirming she’d be out of Stark’s way when he blasted forward. Then Hill’s voice came over the comm again: “That’s it, they’re coming in. Good luck.”

Over the white-noise generator Natasha could hear the click of Loki’s booted feet on the metal floor, deliberately making noise as if he didn’t care whether they heard. On the other side of the room, she could see Clint put pressure on his bowstring. She shifted her own one-handed grip on her gun.

The footsteps came to a halt in what she judged to be the middle of the room. Loki had probably planned to say something clever or taunting or outright insulting, to provoke them into coming out from hiding. But Captain Rogers was already giving the signal, and Natasha flipped the switch she held in her free hand.

The entire building plunged into darkness, the pitch black of utter lightlessness.

In the brief moment before the room erupted into chaos, she clearly heard Loki say, “Damn.”

Chapter Text

The room plunged into darkness, so absolute Loki could not have seen his hand in front of his nose. He had time to mutter, “Damn,” then gunshots shattered the air.

He felt bullets crack against his armor, swatted aside an arrow aimed for his face on sheer instinct. Blue flared in front of him and he dove forward, even as he heard the door slam closed. But Jahanna had already opened the other end of the portal beyond the door, and Loki stumbled out into the hallway. Or at least, he hoped it was the hallway; it was pitch-black out here as well. He almost called a witchlight, but it would only give Thor’s companions a target.

A too-hot hand grabbed his wrist, and Jahanna hissed in his ear, “This way, come on!”

He let her pull him along the hallway, one hand on the wall for balance. Behind them he heard the door crash open, Thor’s angry bellow and the green beast’s roar going from muted to deafening in a heartbeat. Loki’s hand found a corner and he spun around it, pulling Jahanna with him; he didn’t want to leave any straight lines between the two of them and the angry hawkling with the too-accurate bow. Jahanna didn’t seem to be hampered by the darkness, but Loki was, and he cursed himself for not thinking of the possibility that someone on Thor’s team might have been capable of intelligent planning.

Jahanna pulled him around another corner, then another, turning sharply in the blackness. Thor and his friends were close behind; obviously they, too, had some method of seeing in the dark. Then Jahanna skidded to an abrupt stop, and Loki heard the rattle of a doorknob. He pushed her aside, found the knob himself, and shoved at the bolt with the heel of his hand. The lock housing cracked and gave and they dove through the door, shoving it closed behind them. Loki grabbed Jahanna and yanked her to the floor; bare moments later they heard the Avengers pound past.

The gamble worked: in the excitement and the darkness they didn’t notice the door with the broken lock. But there were other eyes on them, and Loki knew they had less than a minute before they were found.

He hissed to Jahanna, “How are you seeing? Magic?”

“Wakfu,” she whispered back. “Don’t need light, don’t even need my eyes, really.”

“Can you show me?”

“Tikalukatal can,” Tikal said. “But it will hurt.”

“Do it,” Loki said. He had an idea, but it would do little good if he didn’t have a way to see. In the dark he fumbled for Jahanna’s hands, found them and held on tightly as tiny ermine paws settled against his forehead. Pain flared through him, power hot and white and shredding his senses, and his teeth clicked together to lock back a scream—

—cold magic tearing at his soul—

—don’t touch me no stop it please—

—he sucked in a breath through gritted teeth and forced the memories down, focused on Jahanna’s hands, on Thor’s voice shouting his name somewhere close, incongruously reassuring. There was blood in his mouth where he’d bitten straight through his tongue; he turned his head and spat it out, and was startled to realize he could see it, a smear of faint blue light against the blackness.

He could see other things, too, dim wavering outlines in hazy wakfu blue: a workbench a few feet away, the line of the door, the points of Jahanna’s hat. Tikal was a bright little beacon of wakfu where he stood on Loki’s leg, and as Loki blinked at him his sharp little teeth flashed in an entirely un-ermine grin. Loki closed his eyes; the images stayed in place, perfectly visible, traveling directly to his mind without needing his eyes in the same way Tikal’s voice bypassed his ears.

Outside the room he heard Thor shout, “This one, over here!” He let go of one of Jahanna’s hands and stood, pulling her up with him, keeping out of sight of the window set in the doorway.

“Keep your eyes closed,” he breathed, and called the Eliacube.

* * *

Natasha had hung back when Thor and the Hulk blasted off after Loki, partly because she intended to circle around through the halls to box him in from behind, but mostly to avoid being hit with flying doors. Captain Rogers stayed back with her, muttering curses under his breath (which she politely pretended not to hear), and to her surprise, so did Stark. Clint had been right behind the Hulk, but she couldn’t really blame him.

She and Stark and Rogers circled around the back hallways, following Agent Hill’s directions over the comm. Loki and Jahanna were moving surprisingly fast for supposedly not being able to see; either Aesir reflexes were better than she’d thought, or Thor had been wrong about how well his brother could see in the dark. Then again, all they really needed to do was run in the opposite direction of all the shouting and pounding.

Hill didn’t normally raise her voice, but when the pursuing three overshot the room where Loki and Jahanna had gone to ground, she had to shout several times into the comm to get their attention. Rogers ignored them and signaled for Natasha to stay just behind him, where she could fire past his shoulder. Stark walked further back; the light of his arc reactor had been muffled by a plate welded last-minute across his chest, but his eyes still glowed dimly, and if the effect was Cheshire-Cat creepy when Natasha happened to catch it over her shoulder, she had no doubt that Loki would simply see it as a target.

They rounded the last corner just as the Hulk shoved past Thor to slam bodily into the door of one of the big labs lining the halls. It offered no resistance and he blasted through, but there was a twin blue flash and he came flying back the opposite direction, smashing into Thor and sending them both skidding across the hall to crash into the far wall. Clint skipped back out of the way, an arrow nocked and ready to fly – but light flared inside the lab, sudden and brilliant in their nightvision lenses. The goggles were built to auto-correct for rapid changes in brightness, but Natasha’s eyes still stung, and the glare was increasing.

“Shit!” Stark shouted over the comm. “He’s using reflective surfaces – gonna make it too bright in here to see!”

Natasha yanked off her goggles, dropping them to dangle around her neck, but it was pointless; even without them she felt like she was staring into the sun. The Hulk roared somewhere ahead, as helpless as any of them in the blinding light, and she could hear Thor shouting for Loki to stop playing and fight like a man. It wouldn’t work, though; she knew it even if Thor seemed unable to comprehend how his brother thought. Loki wasn’t going to stick around, was probably gone already – it was the gem he was after, and she had to hope he still thought it was in the big storeroom.

Natasha fell back from the group, one arm over her eyes to shield them from the light, the other hand switching her comm to a private line, and murmured into the wrist mic, “Hill, initiate solo protocol.”

There was a click as Hill switched to the private line. “Roger,” she responded, then switched back to the main. “Guys, they’re headed down the hall toward the stairs, get moving.” The Hulk roared again, and the floor shook beneath Natasha’s feet as the Avengers took off on Hill’s direction.

Natasha turned and slipped back the way she’d come, eyes still watering from the light.

* * *

The reflection spell was a simple one, combining his witchlights with an old spell he’d created long ago to enhance the natural lighting of an area, plus a variation of the Vanir’s fractal field. The result was light that reflected off every possible surface, feeding itself in an ever-brightening loop. Even through his closed eyes it was bright enough to hurt, but Loki kept his head down and slipped past the mortals outlined in wakfu behind his eyelids. Jahanna was close on his heels, and he wrapped them both in a tight veil, muffling the sounds of their movement and even the stirring of air.

He made for the room where they’d been ambushed; his spell had pointed to it as the location of the gem, and once they were safe inside he could re-invoke the spell to find its exact hiding spot. He could hear the Avengers running off in totally the wrong direction, and smiled to himself. The confusion had worked; they should have plenty of time to find the gem and escape.

The door to the ambush room had been ripped off its hinges, whether by Thor or the green beast he wasn’t sure, but it would make stealth a little more difficult. Enough light from the reflection spell had made its way through the halls that he could see better in the dim light than by wakfu, so he let the magical vision fade and squinted into the shadows. Jahanna and Tikal were looking around as well, still on guard, Jahanna’s open palms glowing blue in the darkness.

Loki was about to summon the Eliacube when a sound behind him caught his attention, and he turned to see the redheaded woman Avenger standing in the doorway. Jahanna spotted her an instant later, blue light flaring as she prepared to attack – but Loki held up a hand to halt her. Romanoff’s hands were empty, and her pose was neutral, non-aggressive. She said, “I’m here to talk.”

“Really,” he said. “Your friends seem to think otherwise.”

She made a slight motion of her head, not quite a nod. He suspected she was waiting for him to attack, so she could play the victim again. She said, “Who’s Thanos?”

Loki laughed, soft and sharp. “He is your overlord. You should prepare to bow to his yoke.”

“Sorry,” she said. “I only answer to SHIELD.”

“And your little archer. Yes?” Loki said. He moved, slowly, carefully, circling around to the side and forcing her to choose whether to keep her eyes on him or Jahanna. Unsurprisingly, she chose him. “He’s quite attached to you. Or perhaps it’s he who answers to you?”

“This isn’t about me and Barton,” Romanoff said, though he’d caught the flicker of emotion in her eyes. “It’s about you and Thanos.”

He gave her a void-filled smile and had the satisfaction of seeing her shiver. “What Thanos is to me is rather different than you and your hawkling,” he said.

Inside his head Tikal said quietly, “Caution. She is here for a reason.”

Loki responded with a flash of annoyance as Romanoff said, “What is he, then? What exactly is Thanos to you?”

“What is he?” Loki repeated, and had to bite back the urge to shout, he’s my tormentor, my torturer, who uses me like the trash that I am and will discard me when he is finished, but not before he has wrecked everything I once held dear. He took a breath, stilling the restless motion of his hands at his sides, aware that she could read these signs in him as easily as he could read her. When he could trust his voice he said softly, “Does it matter? Whatever I say, you will not believe. My brother has already taught you that much, I’m sure.”

Shouting echoed up the hall; Romanoff’s eyes flicked briefly toward the door and he thought she looked annoyed. It occurred to him to wonder whether her teammates knew she was here – for if she’d known he would be here, why had she come alone, with no backup? He felt a smile stretch his mouth.

Romanoff’s jaw set; she knew he’d caught on. She didn’t do anything so crude as go for the guns at her hips, but he could see her stance change, readying for his attack.

She’d forgotten Jahanna.

The blast of blue light hit Romanoff square in the ribs, knocking her hard against the broken doorframe. Loki was across the room in an instant, his hand closing on her throat as he lifted her in the air. Her hands wrapped around his arm, scrabbling, desperate as she choked. Loki hissed, “I was spinning lies and silver tales when your people were still clawing their way up from the dirt. Do you truly believe you can pry anything from me which I do not wish to say?”

“Did it… on the ‘Carrier…” she choked out, and Loki laughed again.

“Did you?” he said. “Are you certain? Have you not considered that it was you who played into my hands? I recall it was I who got what I wanted, while you—”

An electric whine and a flash of blue interrupted his words, and even as he turned to see what attack Jahanna had intercepted, several tiny darts shot past his head and exploded in a riot of light and sound. He flung Romanoff blindly in the direction the darts had come from, aware of Jahanna shouting something past the ringing in his ears. Instead of trying to blink his vision clear, he called back the wakfu-vision, just in time to see Stark’s iron suit touch down in front of Romanoff, shielding her while she coughed.

Stark pointed one arm at Loki and the other at Jahanna, who stood a little to the side, both hands half-extended as if about to fire another bolt of energy. “Back off, Sparks,” Stark snapped.

Loki raised his hands, palms open, a mocking gesture of surrender as he sidled backward. He allowed himself to smile again, small and self-satisfied. Stark could wave his arms around all he wanted, but Loki merely needed to invoke the locating spell again, and he’d take the gem and be gone. His movement had put the edge of the doorframe between him and Stark, forcing the iron man to step to the side to keep both Loki and Jahanna in his sights. In the moment of distraction, Loki called up the latent locating spell.

He’d expected it to point to somewhere in the room, as it had earlier; instead it pointed away, out into the halls. Halls shaking from the green beast’s feet and fists and roars of fury. The line moved, in time with the beast’s pounding footsteps, and Loki’s breath caught.

The gem wasn’t in the room.

The green beast had it.

Chapter Text

The blue line of the locating spell wavered and jerked in time to the pounding of the green beast’s footsteps in the hallway, and Loki’s stomach sank.

The beast had the gem.

A mocking metallic laugh made him look over at Stark. The bright spots across his vision from the flash-bombs had faded, and he could see the man’s metal mask clearly. Stark said, “Figured it out, huh?”

“I fail to see how you think it will help you,” Loki said, keeping his voice calm.

“No?” Stark said. “What about the part where Big Green used you to put a six-foot-long dent in my floor? You get close to him, I’m sure he’ll give you a repeat demonstration.”

“You think I fear him?” Loki said, and if the incredulity in his voice was entirely faked, well. He was a liar, after all. “I’m sure you’ve caught on by now that I intended to allow you to capture me,” he continued. “The rest of you were so incompetent about it that I had to provoke your beast to do it.”

“Right,” Stark said dryly. “And I’m the Tooth—”

The rest of his words were lost as the beast itself appeared from the dark hallway with a bellow, slamming Stark aside on its way into the room. Stark shouted but Loki ignored him, already moving, spinning off doubles to distract the beast while he rolled to safety behind a wall of shelves. Portals flashed as Jahanna caught and redirected a half-dozen arrows, as well as Mjölnir when it came smashing through a wall. The woman agent was on her feet now, too, and the bark of her twin guns added to the din.

The room was big – likely why the Avengers had chosen it for their ambush – but with seven people plus a Hulk inside, it was far too cramped and chaotic. Thor, standing in the doorway, called Mjölnir to his hand and took a swipe at Jahanna; she dropped straight down through a portal and reappeared across the room, only to have to flip and dodge another volley of arrows. Loki conjured another double and ran it at Thor, distracting his brother and sending him charging toward the captain, who barely managed to get out of the way. Stark, recovered from the beast’s unexpected attack, was scanning the room and when his eyelights landed on Loki’s hiding spot he raised his arm and fired a bolt of energy.

Loki dove to the side, calling his scepter and returning fire with a blast of his own. Stark dodged and the blast opened a hole in the wall behind him. The iron suit was capable of seeing through Loki’s illusions, so he didn’t bother trying one, just ran straight for him, leaping at the last moment to bring the scepter down like a spear. Stark sidestepped and took a swing at him but Loki was already spinning, scepter braced across his shoulders, and he fired again. This time he caught Stark in the chest and sent him flying backward through the newly-made hole. As soon as he was out of sight Loki wrapped himself in another veil and slipped behind a shelf.

Their only advantage was that with so many people in such a small space, the Avengers’ ability to assist each other was severely limited. Jahanna, darting around the room, alternated between pinning Romanoff and the captain behind the doorway with blasts of wakfu; and keeping Thor and the beast tangled in melee with each other as much as with Loki’s illusory doubles, by using portals to turn their attacks against themselves and forcing Thor to run containment to keep the Hulk from attacking his own teammates.

Trapped just outside the room, Romanoff occasionally fired when she thought she had a clear shot, and the captain’s shield more than once flew between a wakfu beam and his teammates. But even if they could get past Jahanna, it was unlikely they would risk going near the Hulk’s fists – or Thor’s portal-redirected hammer – to assist Thor. Barton, perched atop a stack of shelves, fired arrow after arrow into the melee, less concerned than the others whether he hit his more robust teammates in his determination to put an arrow through Loki’s eye.

Still, Loki did not like the thoughtful way the captain watched the battle, and Stark was already recovered, wading into the room and ignoring Loki’s illusions in favor of searching for the real thing. They needed to end this quickly, or he and Jahanna would be overwhelmed by sheer numbers. He hissed, “Tikal!”, and a moment later the ermine appeared at his feet and scrambled up to his shoulders.

“This might be a good time for you to stop playing at being a familiar,” Loki told him.

“No,” the ermine answered. “There are too many already, and Tikalukatal fears he would do more harm than good.”

Loki sighed. Across the room, Stark spotted him through the veil and fired at him; Loki dropped behind a desk and rolled across the floor, only barely ahead of a hail of bullets as Romanoff followed Stark’s lead. To Tikal he said, “Distract my brother, then, if you please.”

A blast from his scepter sent Stark diving for cover long enough for Loki to cross the room to where his brother and the beast were valiantly attempting to pound his doubles and each other into the ground. He was starting to feel pressure behind his eyes, a warning that he was using too much magic; he gritted his teeth and ignored it. Stark was the only one able to see through the veil, and Loki didn’t want the beast to see him yet. Or at all. He vanished the scepter to free his hands and darted up behind his brother.

Tikal leaped from Loki’s shoulder to land on Thor’s, appearing from beneath the veil in a sudden frenzy of claws and teeth. Thor howled in pain and rage, trying to snatch at him, but Tikal was small and fast and scrambled around his body, tearing through his armor to leave bloody traces on Thor’s skin. Loki could hear Stark shouting at them that the real Loki was among the illusory ones, but Thor was too occupied by Tikal to take heed, and the Hulk had long since gone wholly berserk. This close, Loki could see the small pouch tied with elastic string around the beast’s waist – not a pocket, fortunately; perhaps there was a benefit to the beast’s tendency to destroy clothing. Loki palmed a knife and ducked close, dodging a massive green fist, dancing back as the beast lunged, reaching, stretching—

The knife sliced neatly through the bag and the gem slipped out. Loki snatched it as it fell, feeling the warm pulse of its magic, and breathed a sigh of relief. But the distraction cost him – the Hulk’s fist, aiming for one of the doubles, caught him full in the side, and he went flying into the wall. The impact shattered his control over both his veil and his doubles, and suddenly all eyes in the room were on him.

Loki held up the Infinity Gem and smirked.

Thor howled and Loki flung himself to the side, disappearing the gem as arrows, bullets, energy blasts, a shield, a hammer, and a Hulk all came at him in a sudden awful rush. The bullets didn’t bother him much and he swatted aside the arrows, but dodging the shield and the beast put him in line with Mjölnir, and the hammer clipped his shoulder. Before he could recover Thor was on him, hand closing like iron around Loki’s arm and hauling him to his feet. “Loki!” he bellowed.

“Thor!” Loki shouted back, drawing it out into two syllables to perfectly match Thor’s inflection. It startled Thor enough for Loki to swing him into the path of the Hulk, the momentum from the impact knocking them both to the ground. But Stark was right behind the beast and Loki had to skip back, then fling himself forward again as the captain swung the edge of his shield at his head.

Jahanna popped up from a portal beside him, Tikal on her shoulder once more, hands flashing as she warded off more projectiles from the SHIELD agents. “Need the cube!” she snapped.

“It’s too close here!” Loki shot back. “If you open a portal they will follow.” Something hit him in the back and he staggered, flinging a knife blindly behind him. They were surrounded; this was very, very bad—

“Cover your ears.”

Tikal’s voice soft in his head, then he spoke again in a voice echoed through the room, low and rapid in a language Loki didn’t understand, but recognized. A glance to the side showed him Tikal standing straight up on Jahanna’s shoulders, dark ermine eyes glowing a brilliant wakfu blue. Loki grinned fiercely, even as Thor froze so suddenly that Stark ran into him.

“No!” Thor shouted, and his companions glanced at him, their own attacks stuttering. Thor raised Mjölnir, aimed for Tikal, saying, “Stop him! That’s ancient magic, don’t let him—”

Loki clapped his hands over his ears.

A pulse of blue light blasted outward from Tikal, carrying with it a shriek like the end of the world, high and deafening and bone-scraping. The Avengers cried out as one, staggering, some falling to their knees outright, all with their hands pressed to their ears. Loki bolted for the door, Jahanna beside him. The earsplitting wail was a distraction, nothing more; even as they skidded into the hallway he heard Thor snarl, felt the floor shake beneath the Hulk’s feet. He pulled out the Eliacube and tossed it to Jahanna, saw the flare as she began to open the portal—

—an explosion of wood and plaster and Loki had half a second to see Mjölnir flying straight at him, to realize Thor was still holding it, before Thor slammed into him, knocking him back, up—

Then they were tearing through walls, through floors; stone and steel and wood battering Loki even as Thor held him tighter, steered them up through the building. They paused in a darkened room when their momentum waned and Loki tried to jerk away, but his brother’s arm around his chest was unshakeable. Thor spun Mjölnir once more and they were flying again, until finally they burst up at an angle through the first floor and went crashing out the front doors into the night, broken stone and shattered glass raining down around them.

Thor seemed to make a point of using Loki to cushion their landing; the hard pavement knocked the wind out of him, and Loki could do little to fight back as Thor dragged him to his feet and flung him against the metal legs of one of the base’s tall towers. He hit with a crack, wishing vaguely he’d bothered to wear his helmet, but the horns were really inconvenient in tight spaces, and oh here was Thor again, grabbing him by the shoulders and slamming him back once more against the metal.

Blue eyes turned stormcloud-grey by the moonlight locked on his own and Thor growled, “Enough, Loki. It’s time to end this.”

Chapter Text

The screech was a million times worse than nails on a blackboard, deafening and nerve-searing as it tore through Natasha’s eardrums. She couldn’t think, couldn’t focus on anything except pressing her hands to her ears, trying to protect herself from the sound, and it felt like an eternity before it faded. Yet when she was able to look up she could still see Loki and Jahanna through the shattered doorframe, skidding to a halt a little ways down the hall in preparation to escape. She lifted her guns but Thor shot past her in a red and silver flash, crashing straight through the wall and slamming into Loki before disappearing upward through the ceiling.

The Hulk followed a half-second later; thwarted of his intended prey he grabbed Jahanna instead and flung her down the hall to bounce hard on the floor. The others were moving forward now, as well, Clint in the lead, slinging his bow over one shoulder and jumping on the Hulk’s back. The Hulk roared but Clint shouted, “Go, go, up there!” and pointed up at the hole the Asgardians had left in the ceiling. The Hulk’s legs bunched beneath him and he leaped, catching the edge of the hole and tearing it wider, then scrambling through and out of sight.

Stark trained his lasers on Jahanna as she rolled, somewhat dazedly, to her feet. Captain Rogers was beside him, and Natasha came up behind them both, guns out and also pointed at Jahanna. Rogers said, “Don’t move. We don’t want—”

Jahanna rolled her eyes. There was a blue flash and she was gone, even as Stark’s energy blasts slammed into the wall behind where she’d been standing.

* * *

“Enough, Loki,” Thor growled. “It’s time to end this.”

Loki fumbled for a knife, managed to get one in hand, but he was still dazed from being dragged through six layers of building and Thor knocked the blade away contemptuously. He was furious, more so than Loki had ever seen him, except perhaps that time when Fandral interrupted his liaison with some noble’s daughter, or after his failed coronation when he overturned the feast table, or… He was drifting again, and he struggled to focus.

“This is madness, brother,” Thor was saying. “Can’t you see? Thanos will not give you want you want. Just give up this false revenge and come—” He broke off, apparently remembering that Asgard was no longer home.

Loki smiled at him, sharp and ugly. “False revenge?” he said. “I was king, until you cast me into the void.”

“No!” Thor roared, and shook him; Loki barely managed to keep his skull from impacting the metal pillar yet again. “You let go, Loki! You let go!”

No, Loki.

His head hurt, and he was tired. So very, very tired of this argument, of Thor not understanding. Loki lifted his eyes to his brother’s, and whatever Thor saw there made him go still, his shouts dying in his throat. Loki drew breath to tell him the truth – tell him everything, no matter that Thor wouldn’t believe it, no matter that Thor would call him a liar and a madman and once again miss the truth staring him in the face—

—saw a streak of blue fly out from the hole he and Thor had left on their way out of the building, and changed his mind.

He worked his jaw; there was more blood in his mouth where he’d bitten his tongue earlier, and he spat it into Thor’s face. Thor jerked back, startled and appalled – and a beam of wakfu caught him square in the chest, knocking him to the ground. Loki darted sideways, flipping knives into his hands, and flung one at Thor, who swatted it out of the air with Mjölnir as he shoved to his feet and came rushing at Loki again. Loki summoned his scepter and met his brother’s charge head-on, aware that he was in no shape for a fistfight but also that he was rapidly running out of energy to cast spells.

A harsh roar heralded the arrival of the Hulk and from the corner of his eye Loki saw Jahanna turn to meet the beast, blue flashing as she intercepted a volley of Barton’s arrows. Loki dodged his brother’s fist and then his hammer, and finally spotted the archer scrambling up the frame of one of the towers. Then Mjölnir caught him a glancing blow on the shoulder and Thor shouted, “Your battle is with me, brother!”

Loki parried the next swing, dancing back and flicking a knife at Thor’s head with his free hand even as he gave him a vicious grin. “You want my attention, brother?” he spat. “Fine!” The scepter’s gem began to glow, bright and powerful and malevolent. “Then suffer!”

* * *

Stark cursed as Jahanna vanished, and so did Rogers, though the captain shot a quick apologetic glance Natasha’s way. She hardly noticed, already marching up to Stark and hooking her arms around his neck. “Let’s go,” she said.

“Cap?” Stark said, and Rogers nodded, stepping close so Stark could grab him by the back of his armor.

The blast-off rattled Natasha’s teeth, and she tucked her head close to Stark’s to avoid the jagged metal and broken concrete edges of the hole. She was glad – very, very glad – that they’d had the building evacuated and the power cut, otherwise there would be a lot of hurt people and even more damage. But the whole point of this setup had been to keep Loki and Jahanna locked underground, to restrict their movement and trap them where the Avengers could focus-fire. By taking Loki outside, even if it was tactically sound to separate him from Jahanna to prevent them from leaving, Thor had just negated all of that, and put the rest of the base and its inhabitants at risk.

They needed to end this, and fast.

* * *

Thor managed to dodge the scepter’s blast, but only just, and it sent him wildly off-balance. He swung Mjölnir to center himself and called lightning, but Loki was already moving aside, laughing like a madman. Thor gritted his teeth, frustrated. He’d been so close – he’d seen it, seen the moment when his words reached the Loki lost somewhere beneath the madness. Just for a moment, his beloved brother had looked back at him from those wild green eyes.

But the moment had passed before Thor could reach him, and now Loki was on the offensive once more. He swung his scepter, forcing Thor to roll away again; he came to his feet swinging and drove his brother back a handful of steps, sidestepping so that Thor had the metal tower at his back. Past Loki he could see Jahanna running along the pavement, one hand throwing blue bolts at Tony’s iron suit and Captain Rogers’ shield, the other making a cyclical gesture to one side. With a start Thor realized she had the Hulk trapped in a portal loop: he would pop up from one half of a pair only to fall right back through, unable to get leverage or traction to break free.

Loki fired another blast from the scepter, calling, “Now who’s distracted? I should not be surprised – you have always wanted my attention even when you could not be bothered to give any of yours in return.”

“What are you talking about?” Thor demanded. He aimed a blow for Loki’s chest, circling around him again until Thor was between him and the others. Agent Romanoff had appeared nearby, guns blazing in Jahanna’s direction, and Thor feared to allow Loki close to her. Over the communicator in his ear he could hear the others talking:

—Stark, watch your back!

—Cap, we gotta lock this down, like now.

—Barton, can you line it up?

Loki gave one of those terrible harsh laughs. “You wanted everything from me, always! You thought I would be happy in your shadow, with your scraps.” Their weapons met with a clang and Thor opened his mouth to protest, but Loki talked over him. “And when I dared take something for myself – when I dared want more than your leftovers – you took it from me.” His scepter stabbed out, slicing through Thor’s shredded armor to gouge his shoulder. “You destroy everything I desire! You think I am happy to take only what you give, brother, and you are wrong.”

—Tasha!

—On it.

Thor caught Loki’s next swing on Mjölnir, shoved it aside, and elbowed Loki in the head. Behind him he could hear the Hulk’s angry roar, stuttered by his motion through the portals, punctuated by the sharper bark of Romanoff’s guns. To Loki he said, “You were never in my shadow! You were a prince as much as I!”

—Barton! Now would be good!

—Almost got it…

“A prince?” Loki snarled. “I was a monster, kept in a cage for Odin’s amusement!”

—Barton!

—Got it!

“You were my brother!”

“I WAS NEVER—”

Jahanna cried out.

A roar like a wall of pure sound rocked the entire complex, shaking dust from the buildings, pounding through Thor’s entire body and sending him and Loki both staggering. Loki got his balance back but then froze, his eyes fixed on something behind Thor. His expression was one of raw horror, for once not prevaricating or lying or hiding, and suddenly Thor did not want to turn around.

The earth jolted as something massive slammed down onto it, and as though it was a signal there was suddenly a babble of voices over the talking device, shouts of surprise and fear. Something clanged against the metal of one of the towers and Barton yelled, the sound breaking off abruptly with a thud over the earpiece. Loki launched forward in a dead run, shoving past Thor as if their fight – as if Thor himself – no longer mattered.

Thor turned around.

For a moment he could not register what he saw – the scale was all wrong; he had not expected something so huge. Bigger than the buildings surrounding them, bigger by twice again or more than the Jotuns’ ice beast, with lava-red scales, legs thick as Yggdrasil itself, a serpentine neck that snaked up and back to a vast pointed head, and broad red-and-black wings that stretched to block the moonlit sky.

A dragon, straight out of legend. The most terrifying beast known to any of the Nine Realms, creatures of primordial power and immense strength, whom even the titans had respected. Thor’s heart knotted in sudden sick dread.

The dragon roared again, and a ball of golden light formed in its open mouth. Loki was shouting at the Avengers to move, even as he himself bolted toward the dragon. Thor remembered the tales about a dragon’s fire breath, and belatedly realized he, too, should run. But as he scrambled to the side he realized that the dragon was targeting Barton, sprawled on the ground at the base of the tower he’d climbed, injured from his fall and struggling to rise.

The dragon’s head came down and flame blasted from its mouth in a wave some twice the height of a man and half again that wide. Loki dove, rolling, and snatched Barton out of the path of the flames a bare instant before they roared past. Heat battered Thor where he crouched against the metal tower, and he jerked away as the steel began to glow red and molten. Somewhere overhead Tony yelped, and as the wall of flame subsided Thor saw the iron suit, smoking, its paint blackened and charred, crash to the ground, flailing as Tony struggled to free himself.

Past Tony, Loki dropped Barton and took off once more toward the dragon. He was shouting, Thor realized, what must be the creature’s name: “Tikal! Tikalukatal!”

But the dragon paid no heed. Its blue pupils were fixed on Barton, and then Thor realized why: Jahanna lay between the dragon’s front feet, curled on the ground in a slowly spreading pool of blood. He understood in a flash, Jahanna’s shapechanging familiar who always wore the same sullen red as the dragon’s scales, the stories of Eliatropes and dragons.

The Avengers had killed Jahanna. Her dragon brother would kill them in return.

Thor shoved to his feet. Across the streak of boiling pavement bisecting the lot, he spotted Agent Romanoff and Captain Rogers, who had half-raised his shield, though it would do little good against a dragon’s breath. They were both staring at Tikalukatal with the same frozen awe as when the Chitauri warbeast had appeared over New York. Nearer to Thor, Barton hunched in pain around an unnaturally-twisted ankle, his bow nothing but a melted smear in the bubbling tar. The Hulk, looking as close to intimidated as Thor had ever seen him, stood protectively in front of a now de-armored Tony, whose exposed skin was reddened from heat.

Tikalukatal’s head drew back and with a groan of superheated air, fiery particles began to gather in his mouth once more. Thor spun Mjölnir on its strap, preparing to launch what could well be a suicide attack on the dragon, though it would be worth it if he could distract him long enough to let his friends escape.

Then Loki reached the dragon, darting between his front feet to gather Jahanna in his arms. An arrow jutted from the front of her armor, and Loki was surprisingly gentle with her even as he kicked hard against Tikalukatal’s foreleg. “Tikal!” he shouted again, and this time, the dragon seemed to hear. The deadly glow gathering in his maw disappeared and his head came down, long serpentine neck curling with an impossible grace. His wings bunched close to his back and Thor tensed, catching Mjölnir’s grip in his hand and preparing to do something, anything—

The air around Tikalukatal shimmered, formed a sphere outlined in faint blue magic that vibrated with an oddly electric squeal. Loki lifted his head and for the briefest of moments his eyes met Thor’s across the battlefield, green and accusing. Then the sphere pulsed, and with a sound like a hunting horn and a rush of air and power, the dragon disappeared with Jahanna, Loki, and the Infinity Gem Loki still held, leaving behind nothing but charred and melted ground.

Chapter Text

“Did we win?” Stark asked. He sounded as stunned as the rest of them looked, staring at the place where the dragon - a real dragon, a live dragon, and Natasha still wasn’t sure that had actually happened - had just stood. Whatever portal it had used was completely different from Jahanna’s, or the ones Loki opened with the Tesseract: it had taken everything within the sphere, leaving behind surreal concave voids in two buildings and one of the radar towers, plus a crater some twenty feet deep and more than fifty feet in diameter in the ground. Once again Natasha was glad they’d sent everyone into lockdown - she didn’t want to think about what might have happened had a person been standing on the divide.

“No, seriously,” Stark said into the continuing silence. “Did we win?”

“No,” Natasha said softly, when no one else answered. “No, I think we just made things worse.”

Then Agent Hill’s voice was shouting over her comm, and dozens of agents were pouring out of the buildings, the lockdown lifted in order to render aid. Natasha made sure Clint was taken care of, walking beside him as he was lifted protesting onto a stretcher and carted down to the hospital wing. She’d planned to stay with him, but the doctors made her sit through a check of the hand-shaped bruises around her throat, and an examination of her ribs for cracking. Stark was there too, although only because even he was not audacious enough to argue with the Hulk, who had pushed him toward the paramedics with a grunted, “Hulk smell steak.” It wasn’t quite that bad; he had first-degree burns over most of his exposed skin, with a few small second-degree burns where the armor’s heat shields had been weakest. He’d been diving for Clint and got caught in the middle of the dragon’s breath, and privately Natasha thought it was a miracle he’d survived.

The paramedics brought a passed-out Banner down as well, after he’d reverted; Captain Rogers came with him, and when Natasha mouthed “Thor?” at him, he shook his head grimly. She wasn’t surprised – she’d heard what Loki said to Thor, seen the look he gave him right before the dragon took him away. Thor was not going to be in the mood for company any time soon.

The doctors were thorough but quick, and as soon as they let her go, Natasha went looking for Clint. She found him reclining on a bed in the recovery ward, his injured leg encased up to the knee in a bulky support boot. Stark was in the next bed over, flirting with the nurse applying aloe to the burns on his neck, and they’d put Banner in here as well, across from Clint, with Captain Rogers sitting in a chair at the foot of his bed.

Natasha dropped onto the end of Clint’s bed and raised an eyebrow at him. He shrugged, trying for unconcerned and managing a vaguely pained wince. With Loki still out there, she knew he would have refused anything stronger than aspirin, and his ankle had to hurt. But she said only, “How long?”

“Just tonight,” he answered. “They’ll give me a walking brace tomorrow. I’m not sitting this out.”

“Good,” Rogers said from across the aisle. “We’re going to need all of us.”

“Hey, that’s a good point,” Stark broke in. “All of us. Yeah. About that.” He waved the nurse away, fixing Natasha with a narrow-eyed glare, as serious as he was capable of. “I thought we were done keeping secrets from each other. The whole ‘team’ thing. Working together.” Natasha didn’t react, but Rogers couldn’t lie to save his life, and he shot her a guilty glance. Stark saw it and scowled. “So you did pull a fast one down there. And Agent Hill was in on it.” He turned the scowl on Rogers. “Even Honest Abe. I saw you watch her leave and not bother to mention it to the rest of us.”

“Yes,” Rogers said, before Natasha could speak. “I asked her to talk to Loki.”

“What?!” Clint yelped. “Why?”

“Are you crazy?” Stark demanded. “Talking to that guy alone ends with stabbing. Or mind voodoo.” He made a wobbly gesture by his head.

“I had it under control,” Natasha said. She gave Stark the shut-up look she’d picked up from Pepper while working undercover, then turned to Clint. He was staring open-mouthed at her, his expression betrayed. She met his eyes and waited, and after a minute his jaw set and he looked away.

Stark immediately spoke up: “So what’s so important that you would lie to us and go chasing after Loki alone? Did you want to share super-secret spy tips? Sixteen ways to stab someone in the back?”

“No,” Rogers interrupted sharply. “I asked her to find out if we could turn him.”

“Turn him,” Stark said, incredulous. “As in, working for our side? As in, you want the—the villain, can I call him that? Too melodramatic? No?—who stole the Tesseract, leveled most of Manhattan—”

“—mind-controlled me,” Clint interjected.

“—mind-controlled him, and freaking killed Phil Coulson,” Stark continued, “you want that guy to come work for us? ‘Hey, man, no hard feelings about all those dead people, wanna come join the team’?”

“No,” Rogers said calmly. “But if he’s not willingly working for Thanos – and we don’t think he is – then he might be willing to help us stop Thanos and restore Asgard.”

“And only Natalie – Natasha – whatever the hell your name is this week – gets to know? You didn’t tell the rest of us why?”

“Because of Thor,” Rogers said. “He doesn’t think it’s worth pursuing. I’m sorry we didn’t tell you, but we couldn’t risk Thor catching on and interfering with the mission. Now,” he added, ignoring Stark’s attempt to speak and turning to Natasha. “What did you find out?”

“He definitely doesn’t like Thanos,” Natasha said. “But he thinks Thor has made sure we wouldn’t trust him. And…” She hesitated, remembering the last moments of the combat. What she’d overheard between Loki and Thor.

“And what?” Stark said.

“Loki is loyal to Jahanna,” Natasha said quietly. She watched the men as they turned that over, as they realized what it meant.

“…Shit,” Stark said. “Jahanna, who is now sort of dead. On account of us.”

“That’s what you meant by ‘made it worse’,” Rogers said, and she nodded. He looked at Clint. “Are you sure she’s dead?”

Clint hesitated, then shook his head. “I was aiming to disable, not kill, but it didn’t come out at the angle it went in, and with the way that dragon reacted…” He shuddered. If Rogers and Stark thought it was from the memory of the dragon’s terrible might, that was fine – but Natasha knew it wasn’t the dragon’s actions that were bothering him. It was Loki’s, and she would have to deal with that sooner rather than later.

“Then we assume she’s dead,” Rogers said. “And that it’s going to make Loki a lot angrier.”

“Does it matter?” Clint said. “He already hates us. He was already going to try to hurt us. This doesn’t really change anything.” She could hear the bitterness in his voice, the anger and the desire for revenge. She put a hand on his knee and squeezed gently, and he subsided, looking sullen.

“Why didn’t you call it off?” Rogers asked. “If you knew—”

“I didn’t,” Natasha admitted. “Not until after she went down.” She shook her head, frustrated with herself. “I should have seen it sooner, but…”

“He’s the God of Lies and Mischief,” Stark said, unexpectedly gentle. “Don’t beat yourself up too much.” She glanced at him, surprised. He shrugged, then winced as the motion pulled at his burned skin.

“Damn,” Rogers said softly, and shook his head. “It would’ve been nice to have him on our side.”

Natasha thought again about what Loki had said, how Thor had responded. She said carefully, “We might still be able to get him.” They looked at her, Clint and Stark warily, Rogers with a flash of hope. She continued, “He blames Thor for everything. If we got rid of Thor, made it clear we don’t agree with him, Loki might be willing to work with the rest of us.”

Stark stared at her in open incredulity, then turned to the captain, about to protest – and froze when he saw Roger’s eyes narrowed in thought. For a second Stark seemed genuinely speechless, which under other circumstances Natasha might have found amusing. Then he got his voice back and said, “Holy… You’re actually considering it. What the hell is wrong with you people? You’re actually considering throwing out Thor – our teammate? The guy who saved us on the Helicarrier? In New York? Our friend? You’re actually, really thinking about just… kicking him out? On the possibility that maybe, maybe, in exchange we can convince his homicidal little brother to come help us? What the actual fuck?!”

Rogers twitched at the expletive, but his voice was solemn when he answered, “I’m considering it because however dangerous Loki is, Thanos is more so.” He held up a hand to stop Stark’s protest. “But you’re right. Thor is our friend and ally. We won’t abandon him.”

“Jesus,” Stark muttered, and looked away, running his fingers through his hair, relief naked on his face.

“Stark,” Rogers said quietly, then, “Tony. I know you’re not a soldier, but we are.” He glanced at Natasha, and in his eyes she saw the man who’d led some of the most dangerous missions in World War II. “We have to consider all possibilities, even the ones we don’t like, even the ones we disagree with.”

“I…” Stark said. “Fuck. Yeah, I know.” He kicked his feet over the side of the bed and stood up, mouth tight with pain and frustration and fear. “I just… I don’t know if I’m cut out for this.” He strode rapidly out of the room, shoulders hunched.

For a moment Natasha thought Rogers would follow him, but then he sighed and sank back into his chair, passing a hand over his face. She glanced at Clint, who looked resigned. He, too, was a soldier; he understood the necessity even if he vehemently disagreed. He gave her a rueful half-smile, his hand reaching down to clasp hers where it still sat on his knee. She squeezed his fingers, then looked back at Rogers. “What do we do now?”

He sighed and buried his face in his hands. “We took Jahanna out of the equation,” he said, “but Loki still has the gem. We need to get that bridge built to Asgard before he finds the rest of them and gives them to Thanos.”

“How?” Clint asked. “I’m no astrophysicist but I thought they needed the gem to make the bridge.”

“I don’t know,” Rogers admitted, and looked over his shoulder at the still-sleeping Banner. “But there’s no option for failure. We’ll have to trust them, and hope they figure something out in time.”

* * *

Thor sat in the bowl of the only undamaged tower on the base, legs dangling over the edge, watching without really seeing the bustle of activity below. A team of SHIELD agents was working to control the fall of the most heavily-damaged tower, which had lost most of one of its legs to the dragon’s teleportation sphere, while several more were assessing the damage to the others. A distant part of Thor knew that he should go down and help, but he did not think he could bear to talk to anyone.

He kept seeing the despair, the anger and terrible resigned hurt in Loki’s eyes as he cradled Jahanna’s body, in the moment before the dragon had taken him away. Kept hearing his brother’s words, over and over: you destroy everything I desire. Kept remembering the way Loki had looked at Jahanna, days ago at the other SHIELD base, the emotion in his smile which at the time Thor could not identify.

You wanted everything from me.

Mjölnir hummed restlessly at his side, sensing his disquiet. He couldn’t quite bring himself to touch it, half-afraid it would reject him, even though he still could not understand where he had gone so terribly, terribly wrong. He loved Loki, admired and respected him, and the idea that he had somehow deliberately sabotaged him was beyond his comprehension. Oh, he knew that betimes Sif had been jealous of Loki and spiteful for it, but he had always tried to reassure her that she and his brother held separate places in his affections, and one would never displace the other. And the Warriors Three had little patience for Loki’s tricks and pranks, but when their reprimands grew too sharp Thor had tried to step in on his brother’s behalf.

Yet Loki believed Thor wanted him to fail, to lose, wanted to see him ground into the dust and left in his shadow. Thor knew that much, if nothing else – it was rare when Loki was not lying about something, but Thor knew him well enough to recognize that this was one of those times. But he could not fathom what he had done to cause such a belief, could not understand how Loki saw malice and hate where there had only been a brother’s love and affection.

So were his thoughts chasing in circles when Tony found him, hauling himself painfully over the lip of the bowl and slumping beside him with a sigh. “You’re almost as bad as our resident Katniss,” he said. “I don’t get it. High places. Why bother? You can brood just as easily at ground level. Or at least someplace you can get to by elevator.” Thor ignored him, but Tony was like Fandral, content with the sound of his own voice and oblivious to the annoyance of those around him. “Looks like they’re going to lose that other tower, too,” he said, motioning with his chin toward the one still glowing a dull red from heat. “Crazy stuff. A dragon – seriously, a dragon? I thought you said they were gone.”

“So we thought,” Thor said reluctantly.

“Wonder where he’s been hiding. I guess the shapeshifting thing comes in handy for that. If you’re looking for a dragon you aren’t going to pay attention to a bird or a ferret.”

Thor gave a noncommittal grunt. Tony glanced at him, then produced a pair of slender bottles from somewhere and held one out. “Here. You guys drink after a battle, right?”

“This was not a battle worth celebrating,” Thor said.

Tony poked him in the arm with the bottle, insistently. “Okay, then you get to learn the great Earth tradition of drowning your sorrows.”

Thor sighed and took the bottle, all too aware that Tony would not give up until he did. He opened the bottle and sniffed it cautiously, but could determine only that it was alcoholic – strongly so. He downed a third of it in the first swallow anyway. Tony was still watching him, his own bottle dangling between his fingers. He said, “You really should go to the infirmary. That one on your arm’s going to need stitches.”

“I’ve had worse,” Thor said, and took another pull at the bottle. He could feel the buzz of the alcohol spreading throughout his body, far stronger than mead, cushioning the darkness of his thoughts and slowing their spinning.

Tony snorted, but didn’t push, just leaned back on his hands and looked up at the stars. They sat that way for a while, Tony uncharacteristically silent, Thor steadily emptying the bottle, until the ache softened and Thor could think past the circle of despair. He said softly, “Loki thinks I hate him.” He looked over at Tony, hearing the pleading in his own voice. “Why?”

For a moment he thought Tony had not heard him; the other man was silent and still, head tilted back to stare into the night. Then he said, “Y’know, I always thought my dad hated me. He was always chasing me off, telling me to go bother someone else. Sent me to boarding school, summer camp. Bought me all the latest toys to keep me occupied. I figured he didn’t want me around. Figured he only had me to check off a box on the List of Things Rich War Moguls Do. Number seventeen: father an heir.” Thor frowned, not sure where Tony was going with this but not yet impatient enough to interrupt. Tony took a swig from his own bottle and gave it a contemplative look, then continued, “It wasn’t until… jeez, just a few months ago, I guess. I saw this video he’d left. For me. He’d recorded it way back when I was a kid, never told me about it. It was the first time he’d said anything really, genuinely nice to me. Not the usual empty stuff you’re supposed to say to your kid in public. He really meant it.”

“I don’t—,” Thor began, but Tony waved him to silence with the bottle.

“Thing was,” he said, “Dad really did, y’know. Love me. All that stuff with the schools, the camps, the toys – that was him trying to show it. But he never… never came right out and said it, y’know?” Tony gave a soft, self-deprecating laugh. “It sounds stupid like that, I guess. But my point is, he tried – real hard – to do right by me, to give me the best shot at life and all that. But he didn’t say it, so I thought he hated me.” He glanced at Thor. “Now, I know it’s different for space Vikings. You don’t think it’s unmanly to have feelings. Hell, every time you and your brother are in the same zip code you’re telling him you care about him. So it’s not something you aren’t saying. But it’s something, and if you want to know why he thinks you hate him, you have to figure out what he wants from you that you aren’t giving him.”

Thor stared at him. Tony chuckled ruefully and reached out to tug the empty bottle from Thor’s grasp, replacing it with his own mostly-full one. “Think about it,” he said, and swung himself down out of the bowl, leaving Thor alone with the weight of his thoughts.

Chapter Text

The ground tipped sharply as they landed and Loki almost lost his balance, but he tightened his grip on Jahanna and managed to stay upright. The hemispherical chunk of asphalt that had come with them from Midgard had landed on the beach near their volcano home, settling unevenly in the sand. High above him Tikalukatal let out a low mournful call, full of grief and rage. Loki kicked him in the foot again and shouted, “Tikal! She’s not dead! Do you hear me? She’s not dead!”

The call cut off and Loki said quickly, “She lives still, but not much longer unless you get down here and help me.”

He hadn’t even finished speaking when there was a pop and Tikal stood beside him in a man’s shape. His wakfu-lit eyes were wide with fear, his clawed hands hovering over his sister’s body where the black-shafted arrow jutted from her chest. She was cold in Loki’s arms, frighteningly so compared to her normal forgelike heat, and Loki half-feared that it was already too late – but he could yet feel the faint unsteady beating of her heart. He said, “She healed me, when my ribs were broken. Can you do that?”

“No,” Tikal answered, shaking his head. “Tikalukatal is not trained in healing.”

“Then hold her,” Loki said, and carefully placed Jahanna in his arms. He glanced around for the Eliacube; spotted it lying where it had fallen in the pool of Jahanna’s blood, and called it to him. It was perhaps cowardly of him to be glad the blood didn’t stick to it, but he was trying very hard not to think about how close to dying Jahanna was, and he needed all his concentration for what he was about to do.

Unprompted, Tikal settled to his knees and gently laid Jahanna flat on the ground. The arrow had hit her low in the ribs, where her armor would have slowed it, and Loki thought – hoped – that it had caught on the bone and not gone in too deep. He could see the faint motion of her chest as she breathed, halting and unsteady, and the slow pulse of the blood around the wound. The Eliacube hovered between his hands, and he looked up at Tikal. “Give her your strength,” he said softly. “I’m going to do what I can.”

Tikal nodded. His hands rested on his sister’s forehead and her stomach, and his gaze turned distant as his concentration went to reinforcing her wakfu. Loki, in turn, closed his eyes and sent his own focus into the Eliacube, allowing its deceptively peaceful song to envelop his senses.

He’d known the cube had a feminine presence ever since Thanos had begun teaching him how to hear it, so many months ago. Thor’s mortal Selvig had known it as well, referring to the cube as she. When Jahanna had said the cube had once belonged to the Eliatrope Nora, and that a part of her still resided within it, he’d finally understood why. Now, hoping against hope that he was right, he reached out directly to Nora’s spirit.

Nora, sister to Efron. Loki of Asgard seeks your aid.

He repeated the call, once, twice, again and again, the pressure behind his eyes building painfully.

Nora, sister to Efron. I need your help.

Nora, sister to Efron... Please.

A sensation like small warm hands settling over his own, and the feeling of a gentle presence at his back. Warmth flowed through him like a river of magic, soft and fragile and immensely powerful, coursing between him and the Eliacube. He could see Jahanna, lit by glowing wakfu: her life dim and fluttering, supported by Tikalukatal’s strength. The blue lines of her life pulsed toward the wound in her chest, spiraling down into a widening pool of eerie purple hunger centered on the arrowhead under her ribs. If wakfu was life, the purple glow was death, ravenous and destructive and spreading rapidly outward.

Guided by Nora’s spirit, Loki pressed his hands over the wound and drew wakfu from the cube. He sent it flowing into Jahanna, chasing back the death, the hunger, containing it in a smaller and smaller sphere. Distantly he heard himself say, “Remove the arrow”, and he watched the movement of wakfu as Tikalukatal obeyed. Jahanna made a noise when the arrow began to move, pained and awful, and her life-force flickered and faded. Sick fear clawed at the edges of Loki’s concentration and he called on the full power of the Eliacube, of Nora’s spirit inside it, of his own desperate desire – and poured strength into her, radiant wakfu wrapping the wound until the arrow came free.

He was vaguely aware of Tikal hesitating for a moment, then the dragon tossed aside the arrow and caught Jahanna’s wakfu, bracing it with his own and taking the burden from Loki. With the arrow gone, Loki could cleanse the last of the hungry purple devastation from her body. His head was pounding, a faraway pain that nevertheless was beginning to erode his focus, but still he was careful to look for and scrub away the creeping poison such wounds could spread unseen. He would not lose her to carelessness or haste.

Finally, finally, he had removed all traces of the wound, of the damage it had done. Slowly he released the wakfu from the Eliacube, felt its spirit withdraw from him, his senses return. He opened his eyes in time to see the cube, its glow dimmed almost to nothing, clatter to the ground like so much stone. He looked up, his vision oddly hazy and blue-tinged at the edges, and saw Tikalukatal staring at him with something like reverence. The dragon said softly, “You summoned her wings. That is a rare talent, even for an Eliatrope.”

Then the ache in Loki’s head exploded, the magic taking its toll on his body and mind, and he slumped sideways as the world spun away into darkness.

* * *

It was dark in their bedroom when he woke, and quiet. He didn’t know how long he’d slept, but the fuzzy taste in his mouth, plus past experience stretching his magic too far, suggested a day or more. His armor was gone, and his clothes, though he did not miss them; they’d been soaked in Jahanna’s blood. Jahanna herself was asleep beside him, reassuringly warm once more, and the relief at seeing her there almost overwhelmed him. He pushed himself up to one elbow and brushed his fingers against her cheek, hardly able to believe she was still alive. That he had managed to hold on to her, when he had lost everything else to Thor’s careless cruelty.

Jahanna stirred at his touch, her eyes blinking open, coming after a moment to focus on him. “…Loki?” she said, her voice hoarse. “What happened?”

—and the sound of her voice shattered him, and he caught her in his arms, holding her tight against him as he shook with the terror and the pain and the grief he’d choked back so they could escape, so he could heal her. She squeaked in surprise, but then wrapped her arms around him in return, stroking his hair and murmuring, “It’s all right, it’s all right, shh,” until he was wrung dry and empty.

Finally Loki was able to loosen his grip on her, able to sit back enough to meet her eyes, though he still held her hands to reassure himself she was there. She said again, “What happened? We were on Midgard fighting…”

“You almost died,” he whispered, and her eyes widened. There were a million things he wanted to tell her, but what came out was, “Don’t do that.”

“…Right,” she said. She looked shocked, so he pulled her close again, in time to feel her shudder. She twisted in his arms, settling with her back against his chest, his chin resting between the points of her hat (and he could not help but be amused that she had somehow managed to keep it despite everything). He could see Tikal now, in ermine form, curled in a tight ball on her other side, and it reminded him of something.

“Tell me,” he said. “You said that when you die, you will return to your dofus to be reborn, yes?”

If she hadn’t been leaning on him he might not have noticed the way she tensed slightly, but she was and he did, and he prodded her on the elbow. She said with a false lightness, “What I said was that until we take Qilby and Shinonome’s wakfu, we are incomplete.”

“Meaning you will not be reborn, and thus are not actually immortal,” Loki said sharply. “And you did not see fit to specify this why?”

“I told you I was basically a normal Eliatrope,” she said, and Loki sighed. If Fandral and Volstagg had found his prevarications half this exasperating, he was starting to think he could forgive them for their perpetual annoyance with him.

Tikal had one eye open now, watching them silently. It was his grief, when he’d thought his sister dead, that had hinted to Loki that things were not as Jahanna had led him to believe; he rather suspected Tikal was aware of this and was not displeased with the revelation. He said, “You should have made it clear. I’ve—”

“It doesn’t matter,” Jahanna interrupted. “It doesn’t affect anything—”

“—But it does,” he said. “Have you considered that we two – we three” —with a nod to Tikal— “are the only people standing between Thanos and annihilation of the universe? It’s very, very likely that we will not survive once he realizes we’ve turned on him, and the fact that you would be reborn in a safe haven, able to take up the fight once more, is thus the only chance the universe has.” She was scowling, wrapping her arms around herself and pulling a little away from him. He reached for her shoulders to shake her, then realized how very like Thor the gesture was and stopped himself. “Why did you not tell me?” he demanded instead. “Do you still trust me so little?”

“No!” she protested, but she pulled away further, hunching into herself.

Loki reined in his first, Thor-like instinct to grab her again, clenching his fists and forcing himself to take a deep breath. Yes, if they managed to win this and restore Asgard, he was going to give Volstagg the biggest feast and Fandral the most beautiful women he could conjure. He said, “Then why?”

She hesitated, but now Tikal’s black ermine eyes were fixed on her, and finally her shoulders slumped. “Because I knew you would keep me locked up for being too fragile,” she said reluctantly. She twisted to face him suddenly, dark eyes blazing. “I won’t be left behind. I promised I would help you, and anyway this is my fight now, as much as yours. Thanos wants to use a piece of my soul to destroy the universe and I won’t let him.”

“It’s not your soul yet,” Loki said, not to be cruel but honest. “Not until you take it from Qilby.”

“And I will,” she shot back.

“Then do it now,” he said. “Before we get the last gem.”

She blinked at him, caught off-guard, and he knew she was afraid. She’d grown up here in relative peace and solitude, with the knowledge that she must one day do this thing but not the understanding of what that truly meant, and now that it was upon her the thought of actually doing it terrified her.

Loki had felt the same way, a year ago in Odin’s chamber when the councilor had knelt before him to offer Gungnir.

He caught her hands, pulled her close. “I’ll be with you,” he promised her. “You won’t do this alone.”

Her mouth quirked in that half-smile, rueful acknowledgement of the reversal in their roles, and she nodded unsteadily. “All right,” she whispered.

Loki kissed her forehead, made himself let go of her hands. “Good,” he said. “Then, you rest for a little longer. I must return to Midgard briefly.”

“Midga—Oh,” she said. “Right, that.”

“Yes. We were right, they were using the Space Gem.” He slid off the bed and stretched, hearing his spine crack and pop. “It shouldn’t take long, and once I’m back we’ll go find Qilby.”

Jahanna nodded again. “Be careful. We got the gem; they’re going to be angry.”

“Angry?” He felt himself smile. “If they are angry with me… Well.” His smile widened, enough to show teeth. “That’s all right, because I am very, very angry with them.”

Chapter Text

Tony slept fitfully, his dreams filled with nightmares about falling helplessly through the emptiness of space, of being unarmored and surrounded by vicious Chitauri while Loki laughed somewhere unseen, of burning alive in a blast of fire only to be eaten by the dragon who’d breathed it. He woke when a group of paramedics carried a (finally) passed-out and bandaged Thor to the last open bed in the infirmary, and again when Steve got up from his chair to put a blanket over Natalie – Natasha – where she’d fallen asleep beside Barton. The rest of the time he tossed and turned, trying unsuccessfully to find a position between the scratchy hospital sheets that wouldn’t pull at his burned skin.

Still, he didn’t regret returning to the infirmary to sleep. It worried him that Steve and Natalie – Natasha, dammit, he’d get it right eventually – had plotted behind everyone else’s backs. For all that he respected Natasha for what she’d done at the expo and in New York, he expected her to do underhanded sneaky backstabby things; she was a SHIELD spy, after all. But for Steve to do something like that went against everything Tony’s father had told him about America’s greatest hero, and Tony was afraid Natasha was having a bad influence on him. Either that, or Loki’s scepter had poisoned them all worse than they’d thought last week on the Helicarrier, turning them against each other again. Either way, he wasn’t leaving the two of them alone to plot anything else.

About thirty seconds after he finally managed to fall into a deeper sleep, he woke to the sound of Fury’s voice. He started to roll over and pull his pillow over his ears, but a flash of pain stopped him and he yelped before he could catch himself. Which meant that he couldn’t pretend to still be asleep, so he reluctantly sat up, muttering things like ow and ooh and hissing under his breath to make it clear he was in pain and not happy to be woken up. Sadly, Fury was busy getting a status report on Agent Barton’s leg from Natasha, who looked far too awake and alert for someone he was pretty sure had, just a few minutes ago, been as deeply asleep as Tony.

Steve was awake too, and Bruce as well, rubbing at his eyes, and Natasha reached over to shake Barton’s shoulder. Thor was sitting up slowly, and the way he held his head told Tony he was nursing one hell of a hangover. No surprise, given what he’d drunk two bottles of last night, but Tony didn’t feel bad about giving it to him – if he spent all his time moping and separating himself from the others, it would make it a lot easier for Steve or Natasha to justify ditching him. It had taken all six of them to save New York, and whatever Tony might be starting to think about Loki, he was not about to abandon one of the few people who’d been through that hell with him.

Barton pushed himself upright and nodded at Fury, which was apparently enough to satisfy the director that he was in good working order. Fury glanced around at the rest of them, his one eye narrowed. “Well,” he said. “Now that you’re all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, why don’t you tell me how you plan to recover from last night’s clusterfuck.”

Steve winced, and Tony was sorely tempted, not for the first time, to follow him around for a few hours swearing nonstop until he stopped twitching. Although if he was honest with himself, it was probably not (only) the expletive that was making Steve wince, but their failure to actually hang on to either Infinity Gem. But Steve just said, “We’re going to get back to work on the Einstein-Rosen bridge, sir, gem or no gem. If we can’t stop Loki by keeping them away from him, then we’ll stop his boss in Asgard.”

“Good,” Fury said. He looked over at Tony and Thor. “We killed Loki’s girlfriend, so there’s a good chance he’ll come after one of yours. I’ve assigned a SHIELD protective detail to Ms. Potts. They’re working with Stark Industries’ security to put her under the tightest lockdown we’ve got. And Miss Foster will be accompanied by at least two of you, or five SHIELD agents, at all times around this base.”

Tony’s breath caught, the memory of standing helpless in front of a screen while Loki stood in arm’s reach of Pepper flashing to the forefront of his mind. He managed a nod. “Thanks.” Across the room, Thor likewise nodded in gratitude.

“Sir,” Steve spoke up suddenly. “That may not be necessary. If Loki wanted revenge on us, all he’d have had to do was stay out of the dragon’s way.”

“Captain?” Fury said.

“He’s right,” Natasha said quietly. “Loki saved our lives last night.”

“Oh good, you saw it too,” Tony said. “I was starting to think it was just me.”

“You think that’s what happened?” Fury said, skeptical. “Looked to me like he was cutting his losses and getting out of there.”

“That’s exactly what he was doing,” Thor said, his voice even more gravelly than usual. “I would not call my brother a coward, but Loki favors tactical retreats over staying to fight an honorable battle.”

“Retreat?” Tony said incredulously. “What was he retreating from? He had the upper hand there – none of us could have done jack shit against that dragon.”

Thor gave him a tired look from behind a curtain of matted blonde hair. “Exactly. The last time your war council thought us ineffective, they sent a weapon that would have destroyed the entire city, and us with it. And that was against the Chitauri, who are easy to kill, and only dangerous because of their numbers. What do you think they would have done, had they learned an immortal, indestructible dragon was on the rampage in your world?”

His words settled like a pall over the room. Steve and Natasha traded an uncertain glance, and Tony fidgeted with a loose thread on the blanket. He’d thought Loki had been trying to save them for the same reason, whatever it might be, that he’d kept his promise in Alabama not to kill unless attacked. He’d wanted to ask Steve about it, or maybe Bruce, see if they felt the same – but last night he’d been too concerned that the team was about to tear itself apart. Now, he couldn’t decide if Steve and Natasha were right to have hidden their plan from Thor, or if Thor was right and Loki was playing them all for fools.

Then Agent Barton said reluctantly, “No, he saved us,” and the rest of them looked to him in surprise. Barton was hunched into himself, his whole body tight with tension, and Natasha put a hand on his leg. He took a deep breath and said, “He saved me.”

Tony blinked. He’d wondered how Barton had managed not to become archer flambé when the dragon’s breath had immolated the area he’d been sitting in, but Tony had been too busy trying not to get cooked himself to pay much attention at the time. But that made no sense, because Loki had brainwashed Barton, then abandoned him on the Helicarrier – he had no reason to go out of his way to help him, unless…

He saw Fury and Bruce and Thor get it at the same time he did. Steve had probably already known, and what Natasha thought was anybody’s guess. Barton watched them realize, and said tightly, “I’ll understand if you want me off the team. Lock me up someplace if you have to. I don’t want to… to…” He shuddered, and Tony knew he was thinking about what had happened on the Helicarrier.

“No one’s locking anyone up,” Fury said, and his tone brooked no argument. He fixed Barton with a one-eyed stare. “If you think you might still be compromised, then you stick to Romanoff like glue. She pulled you out of it once, she’ll do it again if she has to.” Natasha nodded at that, and Barton took another breath, his shoulders easing a little. Fury looked around at the rest of them. “Whatever Loki’s up to, it looks like he wants you alive for now.” Thor started to speak but Fury cut him off. “You might be right that he’s running some kind of con, but the fact is he only killed when provoked in Alabama, he saved Agent Barton, and, intentionally or not, he saved the rest of you. Until we know what his game is, we assume he’s not going to go on a killing spree, and we focus on getting that bridge open to Asgard.”

“He’ll still want revenge,” Thor said ominously. “There are many ways to take it that do not involve killing, and in that regard my brother has always been… creative.”

“I didn’t say we’d lift the guard on Ms. Potts or Miss Foster,” Fury said. “But we have to focus our resources. We only have until Loki gets all six gems to open that bridge, and we know he has three already.”

Thor’s mouth tightened, but before he could argue further Tony clapped his hands together and said pointedly, “We’d better get to work then.” He swung his legs off the bed and stood up. “Bruce, meet you in the lab in thirty? I need a shower, I smell like aloe. And apparently steak.”

Bruce snorted. “Sure.”

“You guys can come too,” Tony added, gesturing to the other Avengers as he crossed to the door. “We’ll have a party, I’ll get pizza, it’ll be like in college, only with less homework and more stopping the universe from being destroyed. Great! See you there.”

The door thunked closed behind him and Tony took a moment to listen, but apparently his diversion had worked: the arguing didn’t start again. He sighed, relieved. He was beginning to understand some of Thor’s frustration with his brother; if Loki could cause this much trouble for the Avengers simply by behaving enigmatically over a couple of days, he couldn’t imagine what it must have been like living with the guy for centuries. Still, enigmatic didn’t necessarily mean malicious, and mischief and trickery could be used for good as well as evil.

They just had to figure out how to convince Loki – and Thor – of that.

* * *

Several hours later, Tony lifted his welding mask and eyed the Mark VIII’s shoulder joint critically. Behind him he could hear Bruce and Jane discussing the physics of the interaction between gamma and Hawking radiation, which they’d been doing for the last forty minutes and which he’d been doing as well until he got bored and went to work on the suit. Jane had taken the loss of the gem in stride – it had helped point her in the right direction for her own Einstein-Rosen bridge, but she’d worked without it before being recruited by SHIELD, and she could work without it now, although the task would be significantly more difficult. Nearer to Tony, Steve, Thor, and the two SHIELD agents were bent over a worktable they’d hijacked from the bridge project and covered with a sheet of plotter paper, on which they were sketching a map of Asgard and the royal palace in ever-greater detail.

Thor had got over his hangover in an enviably short time, and if he was still bothered by the others’ doubts about Loki’s motives, he wasn’t showing it. His descriptions of the palace and the city surrounding it were interspersed with tales of his and his friends’ exploits in the places he described, and their antics were enough to get even Natasha to crack the occasional smile. Still, Tony couldn’t help but notice how Thor was trying to edit Loki out of his stories, and it bothered him that he wasn’t sure whether Thor was doing it out of respect for Barton, or because he didn’t want his teammates thinking about Loki as a friend. He suspected it was the former, mostly because he didn’t think Thor was capable of the kind of underhanded manipulation the latter required, but (despite his best efforts) Tony had spent too much time around politicians and businessmen not to pick up some of their dirtier tricks.

Thor was in the middle of a story about getting lost with his friends in the market as children when the room’s loudspeaker crackled and a woman’s voice said, “Thor Odinson, please see Director Fury in room Lima-thirteen-Oscar immediately.”

Natasha frowned. “That’s weird,” she said. “Wonder what they want you for?”

Thor shrugged. “Before I left Midgard last week, the director suggested a formal treaty of alliance between Asgard and Midgard. Perhaps he wishes to take advantage of this time to discuss it further.” He looked over at Jane and hesitated.

“She’ll be fine,” Steve said. “We’re all here, Loki can’t touch her.”

Thor nodded slowly. “Thank you.” He started toward the door, then stopped again. “Er…”

“I’ll take you,” Natasha said, clearly amused. “This place can be pretty tough to navigate.”

Thor chuckled and followed her out the door. Natasha traded a glance with Barton as she left, which apparently meant stay with the others, I’ll be right back, because Barton didn’t move from where he sat on the table. Tony waited until the door closed behind them to snort. “Hope he’s good at negotiating, or Fury’s lawyers will get him to sign away half Asgard’s land rights or something.”

Bruce chuckled. He and Jane seemed to have arrived at a conclusion, because he came over and deposited a laser array and a mass of wires on the table at Tony’s elbow. “Here,” he said. “Can you rig a loop generator at UV-7, thirty pps?”

“Maybe,” Tony said. “Is it Tuesday? Is Jupiter in the third orbit of Aquarius?” He winked at Bruce, who grinned.

“I don’t think that means anything,” Jane laughed, coming across the room to hold a glass lens out toward Tony. “Here, you need this too.”

Tony stared at it for a second before Bruce took it from her and set it on the pile of wire. “He doesn’t like being handed things,” Bruce explained to Jane.

“You remembered that,” Tony said. “No one remembers that. Except Pepper. Can I keep you?”

Bruce smiled and ducked his head, embarrassed. “Ask Pepper,” he said. “She’s—”

The loudspeaker crackled again. “Doctor Banner, please report to room Kilo-nine-India, Doctor Banner.”

“Huh,” Tony said. “Now they want you, too?”

Bruce winced. “They probably want to talk about Harlem while they’ve got me here,” he said, and he almost made it sound like a joke.

“Send them to me,” Tony said lightly. “I bought up a couple building contractors last week. I’ll get you a deal.”

“Uh,” Bruce said, and stared at him. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

“Always,” Tony said, and grinned.

“Hey, Banner,” Steve called, standing up from the table. “Mind if I walk with you? I need to find a vernier measure and some better pencils.”

“What’s wrong with mechanical pencils?” Tony asked. “They’re the future. Welcome to the future, where you don’t have to sharpen your pencils, ever. Isn’t it great?”

“Not when you’re trying to draw, no.” Steve made a face at the mechanical pencil he was holding. “I don’t understand how you managed to go back in time with pencils. They’re about as low-tech as you can get.”

“If you learned to use a computer you won’t have to worry about it,” Tony retorted. “There’s your high tech.”

“Ugh,” Steve said. “I’ll stick with pencil and paper. You guys gonna be all right here?”

Tony rolled his eyes hard enough that his whole head moved. “We’ll be fine, Dad. There’s two of us, we’re with Jane, we’re following the director’s orders.”

“All right,” Steve said. “I’ll be back in a few.” He headed out the door.

Bruce followed, calling over his shoulder, “Don’t open the bridge without me.”

“That’s no fun,” Tony said to Jane when they were gone. “Maybe just a little bridge? Tide us over until we get the big one built?”

“We won’t be opening any bridges unless you get that loop generator put together,” Jane said. “And I’ve still got to map the quantum tunnel relativity warp…” She headed back to her worktable, muttering formulas under her breath.

Tony reached for the pile of wires, but stopped when he saw Barton frowning at nothing. “Hey, Robin Hood,” he said. “Penny for your thoughts?”

Barton shook his head. “It’s nothing.”

“If I up it to a thousand bucks is it still nothing?”

That got him a glare, but finally Barton said, “I’ve spent time on this base before. I know where L-13-O is, but nobody uses K block for anything. I don’t think it even goes up to I—” He went abruptly still.

Laughter, soft and smug and sinister, rippled through the room. The bottom fell out of his stomach and Tony spun around.

Loki stood behind a frozen Jane, one arm wrapped casually around her shoulders. The other held the point of his scepter, its gem glowing malevolently, against the hollow of her throat. “Well,” he said, and smirked. “That solves the problem of what to spell out next.”

Chapter Text

Tony stared at Loki in frozen terror. He’d had nightmares about this, about facing Loki without his armor – because while he might be a genius billionaire playboy philanthropist, none of that did squat against a pissed-off Norse god. Tony was only useful when he had the armor, and right now the Mark VIII was in pieces on his worktable. The Mark VII, damaged by the dragon’s breath, was in its case under the table – which might as well have been miles away for all the good it did him, since Loki could kill all three of them in the few seconds it would take to activate and put on. Barton still sat on the edge of the table, but his bow was a congealed puddle of plastic in the parking lot, and Tony had no idea what other fighting skills the man had, especially with his ankle in a walking brace. And Barton looked as sickly horrified as Tony felt, facing the guy who’d taken over his mind and body and sent him to kill his own teammates.

They’d been stupid – how could they have been so stupid? So overconfident, so unconcerned, just hours after agreeing to stay on guard? It’d been okay when Thor and Natasha left, because Bruce was still there – but once he got called away Steve never should have gone with him. Never should have left the injured, unarmed, and traumatized guy and the guy who was useless without his suit alone to protect Loki’s most likely target. Steve was smarter than that. Hell, they all were smarter than that, but they hadn’t felt it, hadn’t been concerned...

The too-bright glow of the gem on Loki’s scepter had begun to fade.

Loki followed Tony’s gaze to the gem, and his mouth curled in a wicked smile as his thumb stroked the scepter’s grip. “Say what you will about Qilby the Traitor,” he said, “he does make useful tools.” He looked back up at them. “Although I’m surprised by how easily you and your companions succumbed to my influence. Do you truly think me so small a threat?”

“Well, you did only take out half of New York City,” Tony said before he could stop himself. “Come back after destroying a whole state and maybe we’ll talk.”

Jane stared at him, and even Barton came out of shock long enough to give him an incredulous look. Internally Tony kicked himself – mouthing off to the guy holding Jane hostage was not the brightest of ideas. But Loki’s eyes sparkled with amusement, and he said, “And if I destroy the universe?”

We won’t let you do that, Tony’s brain said. “Seems a little excessive,” Tony’s mouth said. “Stick to population centers, you get a better return on your terror investment.”

Barton made a choking noise, Jane’s jaw actually dropped – and Loki laughed. “Oh, I like you,” he said. “Perhaps I’ll keep you when I am king. You’d make an excellent court jester.”

“As long as I don’t have to wear the bells,” Tony said. “Or the shoes. Definitely not the shoes.” Maybe if he just kept Loki talking, kept him distracted and not-murderous, Bruce would come back. Or Thor. Or anyone, dammit.

“I’m sure we can find something… suitable,” Loki said. He still looked amused, and it occurred to Tony that he seemed far too cheerful for someone whose girlfriend had just been murdered. Then again, he had the man responsible, plus Thor’s own girlfriend, at his mercy – he had every reason to be delighted, in a dark and twisted way.

“Good,” Tony said. “Also I don’t do handstands. Or flips. I tried gymnastics when I was a kid, it ended badly—”

Jane moved, her hand swinging down from her pocket to Loki’s leg behind her. There was an electric crack-snap, a flurry of movement, and suddenly Loki’s scepter was gone, his hand was wrapped around Jane’s throat and holding her a full foot off the floor, and his other hand held a taser, the leads dangling and sparking. Barton leaned forward on the table’s edge, one hand holding a knife poised to throw, but Loki held Jane like a shield and Barton couldn’t strike.

Loki flicked a glance at the taser in his hand, ignoring Jane’s struggles as she choked in his grip. It didn’t seem to bother him that he was holding a grown – albeit small – woman in the air one-handed, nor that she was clawing at his fingers and kicking her heels against his legs. Tony remembered the feel of those fingers around his own throat, the panic as his feet left the ground, last week in the penthouse when Loki threw him out the window, and shivered. With his slender build and preference for magic over hand-to-hand combat, it was easy to forget just how damn strong Loki was.

As if he’d heard Tony’s thoughts, Loki absently crushed the taser in his hand and tossed it aside. He said calmly to Jane, “You seem to have forgotten who I grew up with. Thor generated worse shocks as a child asleep in the nursery.” He set her back on her feet and she gasped frantically as the pressure left her throat, though Loki didn’t let go entirely. Over her head he met Barton’s eyes. “I’d not recommend throwing that,” he said. “It would be a tragedy if you hit the woman. Thor might forget that you are supposed to be his friend – or he might remember that you were once mine.”

Barton snarled and his arm jerked back. Tony lunged forward and grabbed at his hand as he threw; a flash of pain sliced across Tony’s palm but the knife went wild and clattered to the floor. “Barton!” he hissed, and got his other hand on Barton’s arm as he went for another knife. “Barton, stop it, don’t let him provoke you!”

Barton’s eyes met Tony’s, and in them he saw an almost animal panic, a desperate desire to hurt the one who’d hurt him. He got a firmer grip on Barton’s arm, wrapped his injured hand around the man’s other wrist, ignoring the blood slicking his palm. “He’s trying to get you to kill Jane,” Tony said urgently. “Karma or something” —did space vikings even believe in karma? “—you can’t let him do that, Barton – Clint – don’t let him, do you hear me?”

Behind him Loki chuckled softly. “Yes,” he said, “the little hawk is quite adept at—”

“Shut up,” Tony snapped over his shoulder. “You’re not helping.”

“I should imagine not,” Loki said, “as helping you runs counter to my own ends. But if you insist on being difficult…”

Something in his tone made Tony twist around to look at him, in time to see Loki make a swirling gesture with his free hand. Jane, no longer coughing but still pale and scared, gasped as the Tesseract appeared above Loki’s palm, its blue glow casting ominous shadows over his face. It clicked and shifted into the shape of a bird and settled on his shoulder, and Loki made the swirling gesture again, this time producing his scepter. Some part of Tony’s mind not occupied with either screaming terror or trying to think of a way out, sort of wanted to ask him how he was doing that, because as much as hammer space might be a thing in cartoons, there was no way it should be physically possible in real life.

But then Loki smiled at him, and there was something dark and deadly in it that chilled Tony to the bone. “Did you know the Tesseract can link to similar energy sources?” Loki said. “Sources such as your mechanical heart, for example.”

Tony sucked in a breath. It had to be only psychological but he was suddenly aware of the arc reactor’s weight in his chest, aware of its energy – and how its subtle hum was beginning to sync up with the Tesseract’s steady pulsing. Okay, that part wasn’t psychological, and now he was starting to get really uneasy. He let go of Barton and turned around all the way, as Loki continued, “The Tesseract also has a link to the Eliatropes who built it – Eliatropes like the one who created this scepter.”

Loki pointed the scepter at Tony’s chest and smiled again, a smile like the emptiness of space in the moment before the nuke exploded. Tony fell back a step on pure reflex – and then the arc reactor in his chest throbbed. Power – or something like it – radiated out into every corner of his body, spiking through his veins, sheeting down his fingers and toes, vibrating his teeth. It wasn’t so much pain as sheer, raw overload; Tony could feel the overwhelming weight of the air on his skin, like he was drowning in too-thick water, faint air currents raking along his flesh, and he was dimly aware that he was screaming, his own voice too loud in his ears—

—and then it was over, his senses returned to normal as abruptly as they’d gone haywire, leaving him limp and gasping. He’d fallen against Barton’s legs; Barton had one arm wrapped awkwardly around his chest to hold him more or less upright, the other poised to throw another knife. The world reeled and Tony nearly puked; got himself under control at the last moment and swallowed. Stall, he needed to stall. The cracks in Loki’s sanity were beginning to show in that void of a smile, and the moment one of them ruptured they were all dead.

He lifted his head to meet Loki’s eyes. “Cute trick,” he panted. “So how’s it work? Stereochemistry? Quantum physics? Pixie dust?”

Loki gave a derisive snort. “Your base sciences are a terrible way to explain the fundamental nature of the universe.”

“Really? I thought we were doing a good job so far,” Tony said. He got a hand on the table beside Barton’s hip and braced himself; his senses might be back to normal but the world still wobbled unpredictably, and he was glad Barton hadn’t let go of him.

“You hold power like the Tesseract itself in your hands, and you use it as a magnet,” Loki sneered. “You have no comprehension of the forces at play.”

“Then explain it to me, O great one.” Time, time, just keep him talking, keep him focused on Tony and not Jane or Barton… “Enlighten me.”

Loki sighed, in the manner of one about to explain a very simple matter to a very stupid person. “It’s resonance,” he said, “a shared connection between like things which allows one to—”

He cut himself off abruptly, eyes narrowing. “Ah,” he said softly. “But I don’t have all day to explain, do I?” He looked down at the top of Jane’s head, and Tony saw her shiver.

Oops. Tony swallowed hard, felt Barton tense behind him. He made himself stand up straight, between Loki and Barton, and without looking away from Loki, slowly pushed Barton’s knife hand down. Time to trust Steve and Natasha, and hope they were right. “Loki,” he said carefully. “You have to know that if you kill Jane, it’s over. We won’t be able to help you. We won’t be able to stop Thor.”

Loki went still, staring at him. For what felt like an eternity, none of them moved: Jane scared but resolute in Loki’s grip; Barton tense as a wire with his arm still around Tony’s chest, steadying him; Tony himself standing frozen, his stomach roiling half from fear and half from the aftereffects of Loki’s spell, not daring to move and praying with all his being that they’d read him right.

“No,” Loki whispered, his voice strangely thick, and turned away. “Because the life of a mortal woman is far more important, isn’t it.”

Tony blinked. Was Loki…? No way, grown men didn’t cry – but space vikings were weird, and what if Tony had pushed the wrong button—

“You’re right,” Loki said, still looking away. “To kill her would be only to martyr her on the altar of Thor’s golden righteousness. But I can still make her suffer.” He vanished the scepter and lifted his empty hand.

Barton shoved Tony away and jerked his knife up, readying a throw, and Jane made a terrified noise – but it wasn’t her Loki reached for. His hand settled on the monitor of her computer on the table behind them and began to glow a warm gold. The Tesseract on his shoulder pulsed in response, and the golden light flowed down into the monitor’s screen – to where it displayed Jane’s notes and formulas for the Einstein-Rosen bridge.

“No!” Jane shrieked. She struggled, reaching back to claw at Loki’s arm, but his armor held firm and he didn’t even look at her. Tony gritted his teeth. Thor didn’t know the difference between a monitor and a computer; maybe Loki wouldn’t either, maybe he’d destroy the monitor and be happy—

The gold light rushed out along the monitor’s cable, down into the computer where it sat under the table. Within seconds every computer and monitor in the lab had lit up gold, and the light spread out through the network cables into the walls. “Hey wait—” Tony said, and took a step forward – or tried to; Loki gestured with the fingers of the hand holding Jane, and sensory overload flattened Tony once more. He was aware of a flurry of movement around him, agony against his too-sharp senses; when the spell finally faded he saw Barton in a heap on the floor by the table, a bloody gash on his forehead. Jane sagged against Loki’s grip, tears running down her face and her arm held close to her side as if injured.

Tony pushed himself up onto his elbows. “Loki—!” he shouted, but Loki ignored him. His hand moved from the monitor to the desk, and the gold light flared over the handwritten notes, the papers and diagrams Jane had spent months working on. Flashes of gold erupted around the room, everywhere there was paper with Jane’s writing on it. Tony shoved to his knees, the room spinning crazily around him, managed to get to his feet and stagger toward them. Jane caught his arm; there was blood on her hands where she’d shredded her fingernails against Loki’s vambraces. He leaned against her for a second, getting his balance, listening to Barton’s jerky pained movements behind him and hoping he didn’t try anything stupid. Or at least, not stupider than what Tony was about to do.

Part of his mind was screaming in terror, remembering Loki’s hand around his own neck, remembering flying through the window and the sick feeling of falling, remembering the smear of blood on the wall where Phil Coulson had died. Another part was sickened, thinking of the broken bodies scattered carelessly through the rubble of New York, the lives Loki and his army had destroyed. But there was another part, small but distinct, which kept hearing the raw anguish in Loki’s voice – he’d never save me, painful to hear even filtered through Thor’s comm. Bracing himself, his heart in his throat and every instinct telling him to run away, Tony stepped around Jane, well within Loki’s reach.

He wasn’t sure what it meant that Loki didn’t bother to try to stop him, whether Loki didn’t think he was worth the effort, whether he was too distracted – but he didn’t care, because the point was that Loki didn’t stop him. Tony put a hand on Loki’s outstretched arm and, as he’d done earlier with Barton and the knife, gently pushed his arm down and away from Jane’s notes. He didn’t really expect it to work.

It worked.

The glow faded as Loki’s hand left the papers. What had once been Jane’s careful writing was now a series of irregular hash marks, scattered lines like toothpicks littering the paper, but Tony hardly saw them; he was too startled by the fact that Loki wasn’t resisting him. He looked up – and up; damn but space vikings were tall – to see Loki watching him with an expression Tony couldn’t read. Now that he was here Tony had no idea what to do; his plan had consisted mostly of “try it and get smacked across the room for the effort but maybe it would distract him”. He swallowed nervously. “Uh…”

Loki blinked once, as if coming out of a trance, then in one smooth motion stepped back and away from Tony, swinging Jane around in his place. He pushed her into Tony’s arms; Tony caught her out of instinct and she clung to him for a second before turning to face Loki, chin up, still defiant. Barton had made it to one knee, with yet another knife in his hand – but he hadn’t thrown it, as if whatever bizarre cease-fire Tony had just initiated had caught him too.

Loki looked down at Barton, over at Jane, up at Tony over her head. He smiled, that sharp sudden grin that held no real humor. “I suppose Thor is right,” he said softly. “I am always up to something.” He lifted a hand to the Tesseract perched on his shoulder. It flared brilliant blue-white and Tony squinted away on reflex. When the light faded and he could see again, Loki was gone.

Barton sucked in a breath, sinking slowly to the ground, one hand pressed to the still-bleeding gash on his forehead. Jane sobbed in relief, sagging back against Tony; he patted her shoulder distractedly, staring at where Loki had disappeared, fear and anger and nausea boiling inside him until he wanted to scream, to break into hysterical laughter, to curl up in a ball and cry. Instead he made himself look at the worktable, at the gibberish on the monitor and the hash marks on the papers. He felt Jane go still against him as she followed his gaze, then she shoved away from him and lunged at the desk, pawing frantically at the papers, heedless of the bloody smears her torn fingers left behind.

“No,” she whispered. “No, no, no no no—!”

But now Tony could see why Loki hadn’t bothered to resist him: he’d been too late. Jane’s notes were gone, all of them. Nothing left but scratches and gibberish, the careful work of a lifetime completely destroyed. Even the parts where Tony or Bruce had made annotations or addendums had been wiped out, and Tony had no doubt that if they went looking for the digital copies, or the online backups, those would be gone, too. Jane made a noise too raw to be a scream and crumpled on top of the ruined papers, her body shaking with violent sobs.

And there was nothing Tony could do to comfort her, nothing he could have said, no hope false or otherwise – because he’d just realized something else.

Without Jane’s work, without her extensive research and formulae and structures, they couldn’t open an Einstein-Rosen bridge. Even if they managed to re-create her work eventually, it would take months or years – and once Loki gave the Infinity Gems to Thanos, Earth’s remaining time could be counted in hours. Without Jane’s bridge, the Avengers couldn’t go to Asgard.

The universe would be destroyed, and there was nothing the Avengers could do to stop it.

Chapter Text

Somehow, Loki had expected to feel a greater satisfaction after getting his revenge on the woman who’d turned Thor against him. But where he should have been delighted to finally hurt Jane Foster as she had made Thor hurt him, he had only the same sick emptiness as when he’d dropped Thor from the Helicarrier. The only satisfaction he felt came from knowing that he’d done everything he could, that the man with the metal heart had seemed, maybe, to hear him. And there was an irony there, that a metal heart was warmer than that of Asgard’s beloved hero.

Still, he had little time to dwell on it. Jahanna and Tikal were waiting for him when he returned to their volcanic home, Jahanna fidgeting restlessly, Tikal in a man’s form with his arms folded and his face impassive. Jahanna gave him a questioning look, and Loki said, “It’s done. We can only hope they are intelligent enough to figure it out.”

“They will be,” Jahanna said. “And if not, you can always go back and prod them.”

“I think if I so much as look askance at a piece of paper in Midgard for the next several decades I will be tackled and chained,” Loki said. “Though to be fair, I would not take it kindly, were someone to attempt the same trick on me.”

“Then I’ll be sure not to touch your research,” Jahanna said, and grinned; if he had not known her so well he wouldn’t have been able to tell it was forced. She was nervous.

He smiled back, hopefully reassuring. “Are you ready?”

Her smile faded, and her voice turned solemn. “I’ll have to be,” she said.

He looked over at her brother. “Tikal?”

“Tikalukatal is ready,” he answered.

“I believe you said you needed this,” Loki said, and passed the Eliacube to Jahanna.

She caught it between her palms and set it back to its cube shape, staring pensively into its depths for a moment. “Glip told us that when the time came, we must seek out Baltazar in Emrub. He would know where to find Shinonome and Qilby’s Dofus, and how to reach Qilby’s prison.”

“Emrub?” Loki asked.

“The Island of Mist,” she said. “The realm beyond time and space, beyond the Blank Dimension, where Baltazar took the surviving Eliatrope children to keep them safe.” She tossed the Eliacube into the air, and as she did a circle of runes flared to life in the space before her: a portal, far larger than usual, and rotating slowly around a complex pattern etched in wakfu at its center. Jahanna took a deep breath, and even the normally imperturbable Tikalukatal seemed almost to shiver.

Loki took a step forward, offered Jahanna his arm. “Shall we?” he said.

Another breath, and then Jahanna looped her arm through his. “Let’s.” Together, the three of them stepped through the portal.

Every available writing on the subject, every tome or scholar’s notebook in the libraries of all the Nine Realms, spoke of the empty space between realms as the void. It was not Yggdrasil, it was not part of the world tree, and therefore, by definition, it was simply not. When Loki had fallen from the Bifrost, he’d believed himself to be falling into the void, beyond the universe to a place where nothing existed.

He’d been wrong.

On the other side of the portal was… nothing. Empty whiteness, although even that seemed to be an illusion, filled in by his mind in a desperate attempt to cope with the utter lack of anything. Where the void had had stars, distant though they were; where the void had pocket realms like the Chitauri’s – this place had nothing. Loki looked down; there was no ground to stand on, and even as he realized it he felt himself begin to fall, begin the endless plunge into the depths of nothing—

—falling, emptiness around him—

—except even the void of space was teeming with life compared to this place, and that was enough to let him fight back the instinctive panic. Tikal had grabbed his arm and Loki leaned on him until he was steady again, and tried not to think too hard about what he was standing on, or how. He noticed that Jahanna and Tikal, somewhat unfairly, seemed to have no problem keeping their balance, either from practice or simply by virtue of their nature. Jahanna gave him a nervous smile, and he managed to return it, dusting a hand down the front of his coat and straightening his shoulders. Took a breath and looked around again at the white nothingness. The void might have been vast enough to appear empty, but this place, this Blank Dimension, was empty, in a way that was beginning to feel bizarrely claustrophobic. He remembered Jahanna telling him that Qilby had been imprisoned here, and shivered. Loki had felt his mind shearing at the edges during his short time in the void; he couldn’t comprehend what it would be like, to be trapped in this place since the dawn of time.

Before he could get truly unsettled, the white emptiness faded abruptly – and Loki found himself on a grassy plain covered in tiny flowers, the horizon weirdly foreshortened, the midnight sky above littered with distant stars and small colorful planetoids, almost near enough to touch. Some were spherical; many others were toroidal or cylindrical, and dotted with odd little branchlike structures. Even as he watched, flashes of bright blue, and occasionally red, green, yellow, and purple, flared and stretched across the sky, reaching for the plain on which Loki, Jahanna, and Tikal stood.

Eliatrope children – dozens of them – hundreds – touched down all around them, none of them yet old enough for puberty, some still babes in the arms of the bigger children. They were brightly colored, far more so than the golden uniformity of the Aesir, the reds and coppers of the dwarves, or the varying browns and pinks of the mortal humans. Hair and eyes of green, lavender, orange, and a dozen other shades stood out among the more mundane browns and yellows and blacks. Their clothes, too, were as brightly colored as the elves during Midsummer’s Eve, and they all wore fox-eared hats like Jahanna’s.

Yet, looking closer, Loki could see that many of them bore the marks of injuries – torn clothes, bloodstains, new scars. Scattered across the plain under their feet were impact craters, only just beginning to fill in with new grass, and more were visible on the nearby planetoids. What had first looked like shadows among the stars were floating debris fields, broken clusters of what had once been still more planetoids. And the children watched them with a terrible resigned dread, as if they feared what the newcomers brought, but felt helpless against them. He was trying to think of something to say, something to reassure the children that they meant no harm, when he heard a deep groaning cough behind him. The three of them turned around to see the creature that had to be the dragon Baltazar.

He was as wretched as Tikalukatal was magnificent: age had drained the color from his scales, leaving them a colorless grayish-white save for a few irregular patches of mahogany; his eyes were caked with age-stains; his body, shrunken and crabbed, was layered with fat and wrinkles. A white beard puffed out around his chin, and thick white eyebrows gave a stern tilt to his eyes. He perched on a gold-tasseled cushion that floated twice Loki’s height off the ground, like an ancient cat, watching them with a gaze that was unsettlingly canny.

Jahanna knelt, bowing her head respectfully, and Loki followed her lead. Tikalukatal didn’t kneel, but he, too, inclined his head. Jahanna said, “Baltazar, I am Jahanna, sister to Tikalukatal, and this is Loki of Asgard. We offer you greetings.”

“Baltazar knows who you are,” the ancient dragon said, in a voice that wavered with age. Unlike Tikal in his dragon form, Baltazar’s mouth moved slightly when he talked, a disconcertingly asynchronous opening and closing of his blunt-toothed jaw. “His brother Glip told him of Shinonome’s plan, and he has watched you since you first left your sanctuary.” He shifted on his cushion, getting gnarled talons beneath him; clambered down awkwardly from his perch with an ungainly clatter and creak of aged bone, wings shriveled and torn to the point of uselessness nevertheless flapping wildly against his back. He landed with a thud that shook the whole… planet? island? on which they stood, and waddled forward to put himself between them and the children. Comically tragic he might be, but Baltazar was still a dragon, and the meaning of the gesture was clear: if they wanted to harm the children, they would have to get past him first.

Jahanna and Loki stood with his movement, and Jahanna said quietly, “If you’ve watched us, then you know why we’re here.”

“Yes,” Baltazar said. “Baltazar does not agree with his brother on this matter, but he trusts him. And it was Shinonome who ended Qilby’s most recent rampage, although Qilby promised her glory to help him.”

Loki glanced around again. That explained why the children were nervous, why their home was so damaged. He asked carefully, “What happened?”

Baltazar’s canny gaze turned to him. “Qilby escaped his prison, and tried to gather the children into the Zinit so that he could lead them across the Krosmos in search of new adventure.”

Loki frowned; Jahanna saw and explained quietly, “The Zinit requires the wakfu of an entire planet to function. Unless it’s moved since Glip last saw it, it’s currently hidden on a world full of people.”

“Ah.” He would ask later what exactly the Zinit was; he didn’t want Baltazar thinking he had an inappropriate interest in a world-destroying device.

“He also sought to unseat King Yugo,” Baltazar continued, “and perhaps kill him despite what Yugo believes—”

“The king is alive?!” Jahanna interrupted. “He’s reborn?”

“Yes,” Baltazar said. “Reborn, but not yet fully grown. We have watched him, too, from this place. We will join him when he is ready.”

Jahanna nodded, but Loki could sense her excitement. She said to Baltazar, “Then will you help us? The king will need all his Council when he is ready to lead his people once more.”

Baltazar studied them for a long minute, while the Eliatrope children watched nervously from behind his legs. His aged face gave them nothing, no hint of what he might be thinking. Loki waited, drawing on the patience of a lifetime in the Aesir court. There was little he could do here; this was a matter for Eliatropes and dragons, and he was only moral support for Jahanna and Tikalukatal. Then Baltazar said, “The Council of Six was given its power for a reason. The aspect of Mind cannot remain shut away, not if the Eliatropes are to survive in their new home. Baltazar will help you.”

Loki could feel the release of tension in Jahanna, though her expression didn’t show it. Baltazar turned his head; there was the flash of a portal and an Eliatrope girl appeared by his side, holding an egg nearly the size of her torso – Shinonome and Qilby’s dofus. It was deep magenta, shining with a soft inner light, and even as far away as he stood, Loki could sense the gentle echo of power within it – and see the dim but distinct outline of the tiny draconic body inside. The girl held out the dofus; it lifted into the air like the Eliacube and floated over to Tikalukatal, who took it reverently.

Another flash, and a different child handed an Eliacube, a new one, to Baltazar. Loki eyed it, but now was not the time to ask for it – they would need to prove themselves against Qilby before Baltazar would trust them with such power.

Baltazar reared up on his back legs, letting the new cube hover between his forelimbs. He said, “Baltazar will send you to Qilby. Use caution – an age of confinement has left him with even less of his reason than he once had.”

Loki and Jahanna nodded; Tikal grunted in acknowledgement. The cube in Baltazar’s talons flared, and a rune-covered portal opened in front of them. Jahanna laced her fingers through Loki’s and squeezed; he squeezed back, reassuring, then they stepped forward through the portal.

He wasn’t sure if the concept of different areas existed within the Blank Dimension – at first, everything appeared the same as on their first trip through, though considering there was, literally, nothing to look at, that was little surprise. But then in the distance he spotted a lonely pale figure, hunched disconsolately over what appeared to be a handful of tiny flower petals. He was barefoot and shirtless, his pants tattered and grass-stained, and his long-eared Eliatrope hat drooped. His left arm was missing entirely, nothing left save a scarred and burned nub, and like the Eliatrope children, he bore the fading marks of recent injuries.

He didn’t seem to notice them at first, focused on the petals floating in a slow dance over his palm. But as Jahanna, Tikal, and Loki drew near, his head jerked up and his eyes widened. In a terrible broken voice he said, “Shinonome? My dragon sister Shinonome—!” Then his face twisted with rage and pain, and he lunged toward his dofus.

Loki was already moving, before Tikal, almost before Qilby himself. He intercepted him after only a few steps, and if Qilby’s madness gave him strength, Loki was still an Aesir (Jotun, monster, never forget that), and moreover, accustomed to wrestling Thor. He caught Qilby around the chest, twisted his one arm up behind him. Qilby screamed at the dofus as he fought, desperate and devastated: “You betrayed me! You’re my sister! Does my life mean so little to you? My happiness? Shinonome!”

Tikal backed away with the dofus in his arms, teeth bared and growling; Jahanna flinched back, hesitating to attack. She said, “Qilby, we’re here to help, we can—”

“No!” Qilby shrieked, and wrenched against Loki’s grip. “You can’t help me! No one can help me! You don’t understand!”

His words caught at the torn edges of Loki’s soul, dug deep into the buried places there, and before Loki realized it he was speaking, low in Qilby’s ear. “I understand. Qilby… I understand.”

Qilby’s thrashing eased, whether from surprise or disbelief or something else, Loki wasn’t sure. But he said again, around the echoes of pain in his soul, around the aching familiarity of Qilby’s agony: “I understand. And I swear to you,” he whispered. “We can help. We can end it. End your pain.”

“No…” Qilby moaned. “No one can, no one cares…”

“I care,” Loki said, his voice choked. “And we can. I swear it.”

“Qilby,” Jahanna said softly, and came forward, palms open in a gesture of peace. “Will you let us help you?”

Qilby stared at her, eyes wild, breathing too hard – then he sagged against Loki, so abruptly that Loki stumbled, and they both went to their knees. Qilby let out a low keening sound, and Loki whispered hoarsely, “We will end your pain. You will never be alone again. Never again betrayed, never again left to suffer.”

Jahanna took another step forward; for the first time Loki noticed her palms were glowing a soft blue, realized she was doing for Qilby what she’d done for him: soothing the worst of the madness, giving him a modicum of control. “Qilby,” she said, and her voice was gentle, so gentle. “Please.”

Qilby’s shoulders shook; he slumped into Loki’s arms, his head bowing. His voice was barely audible: “Do it.”

Tikalukatal stepped forward then, and held out the dofus to Qilby. Loki released his arm so he could take it; he curled around it like a child with a toy, cradling it to his chest. Loki stayed behind him, one arm still wrapped around him in case the madness overcame him at the last minute, but Qilby seemed content to hold his dofus and lean on him. Tikal put a hand on Jahanna’s shoulder, and she released the Eliacube to hover just behind her back, where it would be out of her way but near enough to power the spell. She held her hands to either side of Qilby’s head, took a deep breath to center herself, and began chanting the spell that would end Qilby’s life – and his pain.

Chapter Text

Baltazar and the Eliatrope children were waiting for them when they returned to Emrub. The children stirred restlessly, uneasily, when Jahanna stepped out onto the grass – they could sense her new power, and it scared them. She was trying not to seem bothered, but Loki knew the feeling all too well, knew how deeply such fear could hurt. He took her hand, bumped her shoulder lightly with his arm, as Thor had done for him long ago when they were young. Her expression didn’t change, but she squeezed his fingers in gratitude.

They stopped before Baltazar, and Tikalukatal said solemnly, “It is done. So shall the aspect of Mind be passed, when it becomes too great a burden.”

Baltazar grunted acknowledgement. He still held the second Eliacube, spinning lazily in front of him. It was noisier than theirs, emitting near-constant clicks and electric whines, and it reminded Loki of their other task here. He stepped forward, bowing respectfully, and said, “You mentioned that you watch us.”

“Yes,” Baltazar said. “From Emrub can be seen all of time and space.”

Loki raised an eyebrow. That was interesting. And very useful. He said, “Then you know we stand against the titan Thanos. We intend to stop him.”

Comical he might be in appearance, but Baltazar was shrewd, his mind as dangerous as his body wasn’t. “You ask for Yugo’s Eliacube,” he said.

Loki nodded, and laid out his plan for him in broad strokes. Baltazar listened, and despite themselves many of the older children crowded close to hear, as well. When Loki had finished, Baltazar grumbled thoughtfully. “It is a great power you ask for,” he said, “but a great enemy you must face. Baltazar will lend you the cube, on the condition that you return it when Thanos is defeated.”

Loki bowed again. Baltazar sent the cube floating to him; he caught and disappeared it, to awed gasps from the children. “There is one more thing we would ask of you,” he said. “It would help us greatly to know how Thanos has arranged himself and his Chitauri in Asgard. If Emrub can see anywhere…”

“Baltazar will show you,” the dragon said. He hauled himself to his feet, groaning and muttering like any other old man, and headed toward the shortened horizon. Some of the children had begun to disperse, apparently uninterested now that Jahanna had shown a lack of homicidal tendencies; others came along with Baltazar, talking excitedly amongst themselves. They spoke the Alltongue, Loki noticed, but with the same archaic accent Jahanna and Tikal had. He wondered if what the Aesir called the Alltongue was simply the language of the Eliatropes, filtered through the millennia to its current form. It would certainly make sense, especially since scholars believed the Alltongue to itself be a modified form of the ancient draconic tongue, and with the Eliatropes’ connection to the dragons—

“Here,” Baltazar said, interrupting Loki’s thoughts. “Look where and when you wish.” He gestured up to one of the bigger toroidal planetoids; with a start Loki realized that the thing was closer than he thought, within the dragon’s reach. Portals flashed around him as the Eliatrope children sent themselves into the center of the ring; Jahanna went with them, grinning with a childish delight to be around so many others like her. Tikal simply jumped, landing lightly beside a redheaded girl and making her squeal with surprise. Loki gathered his own strength; he was no dragon, but his leap carried him high enough to get a hand on the surface of the ring and pull himself up.

The starfield beyond the ring’s center shimmered hazily. The Eliatropes jostled for position, their eyes fixed on the shimmer; Loki extended his senses and found something not unlike a scrying spell anchored in the loop of the toroid. He focused on the spell, directing it as he would one of his own, and after only a moment the golden spires of Asgard came into view.

Four Chitauri hiveships hovered in the skies over the city, dozens of warbeasts flew in lazy circles among the towers, and the smaller two-person fliers zipped and darted like tiny insects. Loki took note of their number and position and changed the view, circling around the upper reaches of the city, and from this remote vantage it was easy to believe the golden city was untroubled. The Eliatrope children oooh’d and aaah’d as they watched, leaning close to look, fascinated by the city’s beauty and apparently unaware of what had happened to it. But as Loki’s examination drew closer to ground level – closer to where the wounded and the dead lay scattered in the streets – he saw Jahanna and Tikalukatal trade glances, and gently they began shooing the children away. And he thought Baltazar nodded in approval, when Loki waited to close in on the destruction until the last of the children had portaled safely out of sight.

Only when Loki was satisfied that he knew the shape of Thanos’s defenses did he let the image fade. Tikal jumped down from the ring to the grassy plain below, and Jahanna had a portal open to follow him when she paused and looked back at him. “Loki?” she said.

He hesitated. “I… There’s something I want to see,” he admitted. “Something I need to know.”

She studied his face for a moment, then silently took his hand and settled against his side, her portal swirling closed. She didn’t look at her brother, but some silent exchange must have passed between them: Tikalukatal and Baltazar turned, heading for Baltazar’s cushion and leaving them some privacy. Loki looked down at Jahanna, but she was already facing out into the middle of the ring, waiting. He breathed in, out, steadying himself.

Then he called Jotunheim into view.

It was not the Jotunheim he’d seen on his visits last year. That realm had been silent, worn, crushed beneath the defeat dealt by Asgard a lifetime ago – Loki’s lifetime, and now he looked to the beginning of it, to the point where Jotunheim still held a cold, beautiful elegance, a silver and blue splendor to rival Asgard’s gold. In the distance, beyond the mountains, flashes of light and cries of pain spoke to the future that would soon befall it, but at this moment, in this temple, the world was yet pristine.

Drums, deep and resonant, were the first sign of the procession’s arrival, followed by horns blown in a steady rhythm: not quite music, but primal and potent nonetheless. A handful of what appeared to be courtiers or attendants, their ceremonial scars few and simple, led the way, and their formation suggested that there should have been many more of them, but for the battle swelling at the edges of the realm. Behind them came priests, decorated in heavy gold and silver jewelry and little else, their scars infused with dye to give them a ferocious appearance. And at the rear, surrounded by a small honor guard…

Laufey.

He was younger here, the loss of his people and his glory not yet etched into his face as deeply as his scars. In his arms he cradled a tiny bundle, swaddled in the plain cloth favored by the Jotun. The babe was sleeping, oblivious to the gravity of the moment, to the disaster that would soon befall its realm. Loki’s chest tightened as he looked upon his infant self, until he could barely breathe. He could not have said what emotions roiled through him, seeing the tenderness in Laufey’s movements as he placed the babe upon the altar at the center of the temple, the fond smile on his lips – so strange, on features Loki only knew as a hated enemy – as he looked at his sleeping son.

The priests began their ritual, though Loki knew not its purpose. A dedication of some kind, perhaps, or a blessing, the way Thor and Loki had been baptized into the formal line of succession as children (and if he had been consecrated before, his life and fate given to another, what did that mean for the oaths he’d sworn to Asgard?). The temple shook with explosions as the fighting drew near, and the priests raised their voices to be heard over the screams of the dying. Even without knowing the ritual Loki could see that they were shortening it, yet still Laufey was forced to send first the attendants, then his honor guard out to protect the entrance.

Aesir war horns blared, too close, and something crashed into the temple, knocking loose a stalactite that plunged to shatter on the floor. The infant on the altar awoke, its unnatural red eyes bright in the dimness, and began to cry. Laufey looked at the leader of the priests, a heavy glance laden with unspoken communication. Then Laufey bent to kiss the child’s forehead, silencing its cries with a father’s touch, and spun on his heel. A blade of ice had already begun to form over his hand as he strode out of the room, to join his people in the battle for Jotunheim.

The priests finished the ritual with desperate speed, the walls shaking around them, shards of ice falling from the ceiling and cracks opening in the floor beneath their feet. An Aesir in bloodstained golden armor burst into the room; one of the priests left the ritual to intercept him. Loki turned away as blood sprayed on the walls of the temple, Jotun and Aesir alike. Closed his eyes and held on to Jahanna with all his might, until the screams and the rumbling and the clang of steel on ice finally died away.

And a baby’s frightened cry rose into the silence.

When Loki made himself open his eyes, he saw the half-destroyed temple, its walls splashed with blood, the bodies of the slain priests lying broken amid the rubble. They’d taken nearly two dozen Aesir warriors with them, though, and the baby lay still on the altar, somehow untouched by the violence. Loki stared at his younger self with a sick fascination, and his breath came ragged in his throat. “I could end it,” he whispered, and only realized he was speaking out loud when Jahanna went still against him. “Right here. I could open a portal and kill that… that cursed thing before any of this could ever happen…”

“But you won’t,” Jahanna said softly.

He spun wildly to look at her. “How do you know?” he demanded. “It’s a monster, a freak, it deserves to die, it should never have been allowed to live—”

“You won’t,” Jahanna repeated in that terrible, gentle voice, and she laid a hand against his face, “because you didn’t.”

Loki clenched his jaw so hard his teeth ached. He wanted to scream, to lash out, but somehow he managed to keep control, and forced himself to turn back to the view.

Just in time to see Thor walk into the temple’s sanctuary.

No, he realized a moment later. Not Thor, but Odin, far younger than Loki remembered, wearing battle-stained armor and carrying a sword. He looked just like Thor – or rather, the other way around – except that his right eye was an open empty socket, still bleeding; it had not been long yet since his sacrifice to the Norns for the ability to See, for the knowledge to protect the Nine Realms from the Jotun invasion.

Odin looked around the temple, his good eye finally coming to rest on the crying babe. He sheathed his sword, stepped around and over the bodies of the fallen until he reached the altar. He frowned, as Thor did when he did not understand something, and after a moment lifted the child in one hand. His thumb stroked the babe’s forehead, and a wash of pale pink spread out from his touch, subsuming the Jotun blue until Loki could see his own (not his own) coloring, his own features (unscarred, wrong, right), on that tiny helpless (stolen, destroyed) being.

Loki’s stomach turned. He wanted to reach out, to snatch the child away from Odin; yet the strange tenderness on Odin’s face froze him as solid as Jotun ice. He couldn’t remember the last time Odin had looked at him so fondly, and despite everything, he could not silence the part of him that wished his father (not his father) would look so at him once more. He turned away, nauseous, pressing a hand over his eyes.

A clatter of armor and boots from the view of the temple as Odin left with the infant, then silence for a time, broken occasionally by the distant screams of the wounded. Then the harsh call of a scavenger bird, and Loki opened his eyes to see movement in the chamber, as those animals which preyed on the dead began their feast. They tore into the bodies with no regard for race, no care whether the flesh they ate was Aesir-tan or Jotun-blue, the true equality of war and death. Then came running footsteps and Laufey burst into the temple, frantic, one arm badly broken, his foot half sheared off, dozens of ugly wounds bleeding sluggishly as he moved. He chased off the scavengers, searching desperately among what was left of the bodies. But his child was already gone, taken, killed in all ways but the most basic.

Laufey fell to his knees beside the altar and howled his grief to the empty Jotun night.

Loki cut off the view even as his legs gave out, as he half-fell to the surface of the toroid, Jahanna’s hands steadying him. He wanted to be sick and he didn’t even know why – he hated Laufey, hated the frost giants, hated Jotunheim and everything it represented. It shouldn’t hurt so much that the king of the Jotun had mourned him, that Laufey had not abandoned him as Odin had said, but had lost him even as he’d tried to defend him. Jahanna wrapped her arms around him, held him close while he shook with rage and pain and grief, the source of which he could no more identify than the target.

Eventually the roil of emotion faded, too intense to be sustained; he sagged and rubbed a hand over his face. “It seems,” he said hoarsely, “that the Norns have practiced cruelty with my fate.”

Jahanna didn’t answer for a time, staring out at the bright starry darkness of Emrub’s sky. “Did you know,” she said finally, thoughtfully, “Eliatropes don’t believe in fate, as your people know it?” He frowned at her. She continued, “When you can come to a place like this, where you can see all of time and space… the idea of a fated destiny seems a little silly.”

“If I can see any time,” he said, “then shouldn’t I be able to see my own future – my own fate?”

“If you have not yet experienced it,” she said, “it can change.”

He snorted. “That makes no sense.”

Her mouth quirked, rueful. “Ask Chibi,” she said. “It was in his writings, and he’s the aspect of Time, so he ought to know.”

He snorted again, and pushed himself to his feet. Shoved back the churn of emotions, burying them beneath the broken edges of his soul. They were weakness, and until Thanos was gone he couldn’t afford to be weak. “On the subject of time, we ought to be moving.”

“Time doesn’t exist here,” she pointed out. “We could spend days and it wouldn’t matter.”

“Days to think over the idiocy of challenging Thanos, and I might lose my nerve,” he retorted. “Go find your brother; we’ll leave shortly.” Her eyes narrowed suspiciously, and he sighed. “Yes, I’ve one more thing I wish to see, but it’s…” Personal wasn’t really the right word, nor private; not after she’d seen Jotunheim with him. “Sensitive.”

The suspicious look got more so, and he rolled his eyes. “I promise it won’t send me into another breakdown. But I need to know, before we go to face Thanos.” She still hesitated, so he added grudgingly, “Please.”

She studied his face a moment longer, clearly reluctant, but finally spread her fingers and opened a portal beneath her feet, dropping through it and away over the plain. Loki waited until she disappeared over the too-close horizon before turning back to the view through the toroid. It was to the future he looked this time, despite what Jahanna said about it being malleable. Loki had studied with the Norns at the Well of Urdr, had grown up under Odin’s all-seeing eye. He knew that some things, their beginnings rooted in the past, could not be changed no matter how hard one tried.

It didn’t take him long to find what he sought. And the answer didn’t surprise him, though he wished desperately that it had. He’d known, in his heart; had always known – but the confirmation was a knife to his already-broken soul. He kept his composure as he’d promised, taking this new grief and stuffing it down with all the others beneath the scars, beneath the shields he had built up. But it was with heavy steps and an aching heart that he climbed down from the toroid and set off across the plain, to find Jahanna and Tikal and prepare for the journey to Niflheim.

Chapter Text

It felt like hours before Steve came back, although in reality it was probably no more than a few minutes. He froze in the doorway, staring around the room in shock for just an instant, then demanded, “What happened?”

“Loki,” Tony said. He realized he was sitting on the floor, knees drawn up and arms draped over them; he didn’t remember sitting down. He felt strange, distant, Jane’s sobbing a remote thing somewhere above him.

Steve strode forward into the room, on guard in case Loki still lurked in a corner somewhere. “Who’s hurt worst?”

“Barton,” Tony said. “Concussion, probably.”

“You sure?” Steve said, even as he knelt beside Barton. “You’ve got blood all over you.”

Tony glanced down at himself in vague surprise. Steve was right; his shirt was marked with bloody smears and handprints. He held up his sliced-open palm by way of explanation. “Some of it’s Jane’s,” he added. “She cut up her fingers on Loki’s armor.”

Steve nodded. With quick but gentle movements, he pried Barton’s hand away from his forehead. “Loki hit you?” he asked.

“With Jane,” Barton said, his voice rough. “Knocked me into the table.”

“Look at me,” Steve said, and began to check Barton for signs of a concussion. With his free hand he pulled out his phone – a simple flip phone, Tony noted idly, the big-numbered kind designed for Grandma. Still, it worked well enough that Steve had the base’s paramedics on the line in seconds, and Fury a minute later.

There was chaos, for a while, as the paramedics rushed in. Tony let them bandage his hand – the cut was shallow and wouldn’t need stitches, thankfully – and watched with remote interest as they confirmed Barton had a mild concussion, and Jane had lost a couple of fingernails and had serious bruising around her throat but was otherwise all right. Fury showed up while they were wrapping her fingers, with Natasha, Thor, and Bruce on his heels.

Natasha went straight to Barton, ignoring the paramedics in the way. Thor’s jaw was clenched and he moved with a controlled rage, crossing the room and gathering Jane into his arms. Bruce watched him warily as he came to crouch next to Tony. “You okay?” he asked softly, and Tony nodded. Bruce glanced back at Thor. “I think he’d say ‘I told you so’ except that if he opens his mouth he’s going to start shouting.”

Tony snorted. Across the room, Fury had pulled Steve aside to ask, “How bad?”

“Bad,” Steve answered, and hesitated. “I, uh. I think someone ought to check Stark, Loki might have…” Fury frowned sharply at him, and Steve said, “He hasn’t made a wisecrack since I walked in.”

Tony shook himself. “Hey, hey, wait,” he said. “I’m fine, I’m good. No mind whammies here.” Bruce frowned at him and Tony repeated himself, loud enough for Steve and Fury to hear. “I’m just taking the opportunity to be serious. That’s a thing I can do. Did you know? Tony Stark: Serious Mode.”

Steve rolled his eyes, but Tony still caught the relief on his face. He climbed to his feet, aching in every bone, every muscle; whatever Loki’s scepter had done to his arc reactor, it had left him with the feeling of having just completed a marathon workout. Bruce got a hand under his elbow to steady him and Tony leaned gratefully on him. The paramedics gave Tony the fisheye as they packed up to leave, but Tony ignored them and thankfully they didn’t try to stick him under a stethoscope. To Steve and Fury, Tony said, “Sorry. It’s just… it’s bad. Loki…” He waved a hand over at the hashmarks and wingdings that were all that was left of Jane’s work. “We were already going to have a hard time building the bridge without either the Tesseract or the Infinity Gem, but now…” They traded glances. They knew, and Tony didn’t have to finish the sentence but he did anyway. “Now we can’t get to Asgard. We can’t stop Thanos.”

Steve’s jaw set; Fury’s scowl deepened. Crouched on the floor beside Barton, Natasha looked grim, as did Bruce. And Thor looked… surprised?

Tony blinked. Thor had followed Tony’s gesture to the papers and was now frowning at them, surprise and confusion evident on his face. He untangled an arm from Jane and reached across her to shuffle through the papers, and his brow furrowed.

“Thor?” Steve prompted.

“This is the deep tongue,” Thor said, clearly baffled. “The written language of the dwarves and the svartelves.”

“What?” Jane demanded. She lifted her head and twisted in his arms to look. “That’s language?”

“Aye,” Thor said, and leaned closer to read. “‘Test twenty-seven: Auto…” He paused, lips moving silently, then tried again, slowly sounding out the words: “Automatic reactor failover triggered…”

“You can read it?” Tony demanded, pushing away from Bruce and lurching over to the table. Jane stared at Thor, a painful hope in her eyes.

“Well, yes,” Thor said. “It’s written phonetically in your tongue, not the Alltongue, so it’s not easy, but… yes.”

“Why would he do that?” Jane demanded. “He wanted to destroy it—!”

“You can’t destroy matter,” Bruce said thoughtfully. “At least not without creating comparable energy. Pencil lead and ink are matter. Maybe he did the best he could?”

“But if Thor can read it—” Steve began.

“He might have thought he couldn’t—” Natasha offered, but Thor was already shaking his head.

“I fostered with the dwarves as a child,” he said. “Loki would not forget that.”

“No offense,” Natasha said, “but Loki doesn’t seem to have a very high estimation of your intelligence.”

Thor scowled, but Jane whispered, “If you can read it, then it’s not gone. It’s not gone!”

“Holy shit,” Tony said. The sensation of being adrift vanished; he felt like he did when he’d been falling and the suit’s thrusters finally kicked in. “Holy shit.” He scrabbled at his pocket, pulled out his phone. “Jarvis, hook into every computer on this base you can. Get me cores. RAM. Processing power. Webcams, video; I want your eyes on all these papers. Thor – start translating. Everything you can, as fast as you can. Jane, help him. Jarvis will watch over your shoulder and extrapolate. Jarvis, go Google Translate on this thing, statistical analysis on everything you can match.” He spun around to the others. “Get this stuff scanned in. All of it. Jarvis will sort it out after you give it to him.”

They stared at him. He clapped his hands together brusquely. “Chop chop, people, let’s get a move on, the universe is at stake here, come on!” Bruce and Natasha and Steve scrambled to action, moving with startled haste to find webcams and scanners. Fury bent his head to his earpiece, barking orders to turn over every computer on the base's network to Jarvis’s control. Barton, still unsteady but not about to sit out, dug up fresh paper and pencils for Thor and Jane, and they bent their heads over the hash marks. Jane clearly remembered some of what she’d written down, and soon they were scribbling translations for Jarvis to pick up.

Tony grabbed his laptop; Jarvis reported that Loki’s spell had wiped out Tony’s copies of the bridge data but left the rest of the system intact. He set to work transcribing everything he remembered from their data, formulas and experiment notes and anything else he could think of. He snagged Bruce to help, and they fed their work to Jarvis to compare to Thor and Jane’s translations. Hope blossomed in his chest – they weren’t dead in the water, Loki hadn’t won, they could still do something—

And then Jane said, “No, no, that’s wrong.”

It wasn’t like a cartoon, where everyone came to a screeching halt. In fact, Tony was pretty sure he was the only one, besides Thor, who even heard her. But her words hit his ears like the squeal of brakes and he stopped typing to twist around and look at her. She stood next to Thor, shoulders hunched, fingers digging into the papers under her hands. “It’s wrong,” she repeated, and the shattered hope in her voice was almost worse than her original despair. “He changed it. He wrecked it.”

Ice in Tony’s veins, and he hurried to join her and Thor at their table, Bruce at his side. “What, show me, what is it?”

Jane pointed at what Thor had just written, a complex equation that, at a glance, appeared to deal with Einstein’s theory of relativity. “I was working on that when—when he showed up. I know what it’s supposed to be. I know relativity like the back of my hand, and that’s wrong. Physics don’t work like that, gravity doesn’t do that…”

She looked like she was about to break down sobbing again. Tony was glad when Thor pulled her into an embrace; Tony had no idea what to do with crying people but at the same time he wanted to offer her some comfort, some relief. Jane felt about her work much the same way Tony felt about Jarvis or his other creations – even Dummy – and he couldn’t imagine what it would be like to have them just… taken away. Turned into something unrecognizable and lost for good.

He already knew the answer, but he said to Thor anyway, “You’re sure you’re translating it right? You said it’s phonetic, maybe…”

“I’m sure,” Thor growled, although his anger wasn’t with Tony. “That’s what it says.”

He leaned over Thor’s shoulder to look at the equation, but Jane was right. Physics didn’t work like that. “Damn it,” he said. His fists clenched at his sides, the hope he’d felt a minute before crushed beneath this new setback. “Damn it!”

“Wait,” Bruce said suddenly. “What if it isn’t wrong?”

Tony and Jane both stared at him, but Bruce was looking at the translated formula. “What are you talking about?” Jane said bleakly. “That’s not how relativity works—”

“But what if it is?” Bruce demanded.

“Einstein’s laws say—” Tony started.

“Forget Einstein!” Bruce interrupted. “Look at it!” He elbowed Thor out of the way, bent over the paper and started scratching notes beside the equation. “We were stuck on this part anyway, remember? The ripple effects caused by the quantum uncertainty—”

“Wait a minute,” Jane said. “You mean he solved the fourth-dimension interaction problem?”

“Yeah,” Bruce said. “It’s Machian, almost perfect Machian – no, it’s more than perfect, it works and it means the quantum fuzziness property is included at the fundamental level, we don’t need to solve the problem of dark matter—!” He stopped abruptly, taking a deep breath; his body visibly relaxing as he made an effort to slow his heart rate before he Hulked out.

“Hold on,” Fury broke in, and they all jumped; in the heat of the discussion they’d forgotten he was in the room. “Are you saying Loki fixed your formula?”

“Uh,” Tony said, and traded glances with Jane. “Yeah, I guess he kinda did.”

“…the hell?” Fury muttered. Steve and Natasha and Barton had stopped feeding papers to Jarvis and were listening now, too; they looked as confused as Tony felt.

“I have no idea,” Tony admitted. “He seemed pretty hell-bent on revenge. Although he did say our ‘base sciences’ were a terrible way to explain the universe, so maybe he couldn’t resist—”

“He might have been mocking us,” Bruce said, his voice suddenly solemn; he was still looking at the translated work. “Give us a sense of false hope.”

Jane and Tony leaned down to read the lines he was pointing at – another modified formula. Tony felt his eyebrows jump to his hairline. “That is a lot of promethium.”

“A lot of what now?” Steve asked blankly.

“Promethium,” Bruce answered absently. “It’s one of the rare-earth elements, the one we were going to use to replicate the radioactive properties of the Tesseract. It’s mostly used for atomic batteries.”

“I don’t think there’s this much promethium on Earth,” Tony said. “I don’t think this much promethium has existed ever.”

“How much do you need?” Fury asked.

Tony ran the calculation over in his mind again, double-checking the numbers. “Somewhere around… sixty kilos?”

Fury nodded. “You’ll have it.”

All three of them – Tony, Bruce, and Jane – turned around to stare at him. Jane said, “Kilos,” in a shocked voice, and Tony said, “No way, how…? Even I couldn’t get my hands on that much promethium—”

Fury gave him that flat, unimpressed stare. “You are not God, Mister Stark, and therefore not omniscient, no matter how much you might think you are. SHIELD has its resources.” He headed for the door, one hand already on his earpiece; over his shoulder he warned, “But you’d better make it worth it.”

The door closed behind him. Bruce elbowed Tony lightly in the side; Tony snapped his jaw shut and turned back to the table. “Has he always been that scary?” he said to no one in particular. “Right. Okay. What’s next? If Loki’s playing cat and mouse there’s gotta be another catch somewhere.”

“Well,” Jane said, “if it’s going to take that much promethium, then we’re going to have to scale up the power source with it.”

“We can’t,” Bruce protested. “We were already looking at nuclear-fission levels of power – I don’t know how you’d increase that on the same scale as the promethium.”

“What about an arc reactor?” Natasha asked.

Tony shook his head. “Tried it, doesn’t work mathematically. The arc reactors aren’t really built for power spikes, they’re better at sustained levels over a period of time.”

“Try again,” Barton spoke up unexpectedly. He’d been sitting with a cold pack against his head, not moving on the paramedics’ orders, but now he looked up at Tony. “Weren’t you listening to him?”

Tony looked over at Jane, but she looked as confused as he felt; he shook his head.

“‘You hold power like the Tesseract itself in your hands, and you use it as a magnet,’” Barton quoted tiredly, and nodded at Tony’s chest. “That’s what yours is for, isn’t it? A magnet?”

Tony blinked. Most people thought of his arc reactor as an artificial heart – even Tony himself sometimes. But his real heart beat steadily, protected from microscopic but deadly shrapnel by—

—by an electromagnet powered by an arc reactor, the same technology Selvig had used to boot up the Tesseract on Stark Tower last week, the same technology that had blocked Loki’s Tesseract-flavored doom stick. And then Tony remembered something else Loki had said, something else in how he’d looked at Tony in the moment before disappearing.

I am always up to something.

The pieces clicked in place, cascading, a sudden deluge of understanding, and Tony slammed his hands onto the table hard enough to make the papers flutter. “Damn it!” he spat, and rounded on Thor. “What the hell did you do to him to make him so fucking afraid to ask for help?!”

Thor shot out of his chair, looming over him; it belatedly occurred to Tony that maybe it wasn’t a good idea to antagonize the already-pissed-off god of thunder. Thor said, low and dangerous, “Have a care with your words, Midgardian. I will not be—”

Steve shoved between them, knocking Tony back against Bruce, and meeting Thor’s furious glare. “Whoa,” he said sharply. “Calm down, Thor. You too, Stark.”

Bruce gripped Tony by the arms; Tony shook him off. “Yeah, no, not happening. This?” —he waved a hand to indicate the papers, Jane’s throat, Barton’s head— “This is Loki trying to ask us for help. He wants us in Asgard, he’s trying to get us there – but he’s too damn afraid to just ask us, because he doesn’t think Thor would ever help him!”

Natasha breathed something in Russian that probably would have made Steve blush. “Just like his plan to get the Infinity Gauntlet,” she said. “He didn’t think the Asgardians would come get him if he asked.”

“You’re kidding,” Steve said. “You’re joking, right?”

“No,” Barton said, sounding like the words were being dragged from him. “He set it up. Set us up. Tasha couldn’t have done it better.”

Thor growled, “Have you considered that this could be a trap? Loki wants us dead. If we follow his directions he’s like to send us straight into an ambush.”

“If Loki wanted us dead, Barton and I would be in body bags right now,” Tony snapped. “Look, remember I told you you need to figure out what he wants from you? How about you start with trust.”

Thor rocked back like Tony had hit him. “You don’t know my brother,” he said, but Tony could hear the hesitation in his voice, the sudden doubt. The fight went out of his posture; he sank down into a chair and looked up at Tony from behind the curtain of his hair. There was a pained note in his voice when he said, “Do you really think that’s… what this is? Loki doesn’t think I care enough to help him?”

“I…” Tony sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face. He was tired, and he hurt all over, and it was really starting to scare him that he was sympathizing with the guy who’d unleashed an alien army on New York. “Yeah, big guy. I do.”

There was silence for a moment, as if no one was quite sure what to say, or maybe they were afraid of interfering. Then Jane reached down to touch Thor’s arm, and he shook himself a little, reaching up to wrap an arm around her waist. Steve watched him warily for a second longer before saying to Tony, “You all right now?”

Tony nodded, a little shakily at first and then more firmly. “Yeah. Yeah, we’re good.”

“Thor?” Steve prompted.

Thor nodded without looking up. Tony suspected he wasn’t “all right” but at least the fight had drained out of him. Maybe Tony’d got through to him.

Or maybe Tony had just walked them all straight into Loki’s trap. Either or.

Steve looked around at the rest of them. “All right, then. We keep going with the translation efforts. We need to make sure we catch anything else Loki might have changed. Stark, do you think you can make your arc reactor do whatever it is Loki thinks it can do?”

“Yeah,” Tony said, with more confidence than he felt. If you didn’t have it, fake it. “I’ve already shrunk it down and powered it up. Should be easy. Loki said something about resonance; shared connections between like things. I’d bet the Mark Eight that was another clue, I just have to figure it out.”

“Good,” Steve said. “Then let’s get to work. We’ve got a bridge to build.”

Chapter Text

“Like this?” Jahanna asked.

Loki pushed himself up on his elbows to look at the diagram she’d sketched. They were sprawled on the floor of their volcanic lair, surrounded by Glip’s notes and diaries, mapping out an initial plan to rebuild the Bifrost. Although they’d returned from the Island of Emrub with plenty of time left in the day, they’d found themselves, by unspoken agreement, choosing a quiet afternoon rather than rushing out to Niflheim in search of the last gem. Loki couldn’t have said if it was because the trip to Emrub had been taxing for both of them, or if they wanted to put off the last gem and, by doing so, put off the final confrontation with Thanos. Both, perhaps, though if Thanos or the Other questioned him about the delay, Loki was fully prepared to claim he was simply setting the trap for his brother and the Midgardian warriors.

Not that that was much of a lie, either; he’d scried briefly on them earlier, enough to see that they’d managed to find his clues and were frantically working to build their replica Eliacube. But they’d need more time, and Loki had to be careful to ensure that no part of his plan came to fruition out of order – thus the delay. With luck, Thanos and his minions would be too occupied with ravaging Asgard to care about it.

And in the meantime, there was work to be done on the plans for the Bifrost. Loki frowned thoughtfully at Jahanna’s diagram. His first reaction, remembering the great golden sphere of Heimdall’s observatory, was no, not like that at all; but he squashed that down and made himself study it critically. The Bifrost had been one of the Eliatropes’ earliest experiments in inter-realm travel, after all, and it would be beyond foolish to simply recreate it as it had been instead of incorporating the many advances they’d made since. And her design was certainly elegant, imposing in its own way, if not in the gold-and-grandeur manner of the Aesir. He nodded slowly. “Yes,” he said. “Yes, I think that will do nicely.”

“You said Heimdall used his sword to control the original,” Jahanna said, and pointed at the diagram. “He’ll still have that control, here. But it won’t be exclusive to him, if you don’t want it to be, see, this here…”

“Mmm,” Loki said, and caught up a piece of chalk to tweak the lines. “There. I’d prefer to keep the alternate control rather more hidden. Something only the royal family might know about, as a safeguard.”

“Good point.” Jahanna rolled onto her back and stretched, yawning; her tiny fangs flashed in the lamplight. Loki watched her for a moment, a strange ache in his chest, a sentimental tug for which Thor would surely have mocked him. But Thor wasn’t here, and Jahanna had far more sense than him besides. She didn’t think sentimentality was only for fools.

Loki said softly, “There’s something I’d like to ask you.”

She sat up, head tilted foxlike. “Hmm?”

Loki sat up as well, crossing his legs to face her, and said, “You saw Thanos’s army of Chitauri in Asgard.” She nodded; he continued, “Even if all goes as planned, we’re like to lose simply because of their superior numbers.”

“I was worried about that,” she admitted. “It doesn’t matter how well we fight if we’re outnumbered thousands to one.”

“Indeed,” he said. “So when we take the gems to Thanos, when the fighting starts, I want you to go to Alfheim and speak with the elven generals. Convince them to come to Asgard’s aid. Alfheim is near to Asgard; you shouldn’t need more than the Bifrost to fuel a portal big enough for their army—”

Her head came up, one eyebrow raised. “And how will I convince them?” she asked. “Odin Allfather has warned them about me. Us. They’re more likely to try to capture me than listen to me, especially if they realize we’re the ones who opened the way for the Chitauri’s assault on Asgard in the first place.”

He summoned a ring to his hand, large and ornate and ancient, and held it out to her. “Here. The seal of the throne of Asgard.” Jahanna’s eyes widened as she took it, and she shot him a questioning look. Loki smiled ruefully. “I was the rightful king of Asgard, if only for a few days, and had with me some of the accoutrements of office when…” A deep breath; control. “When I fell.” He’d actually wondered, in the idle hours on Midgard sitting in SHIELD’s glass cage, how well Odin was managing without the seal. He’d hoped, rather pettily, that its loss had caused the old man trouble, though he knew Odin would never admit it was missing. “Just tell the elves that you were sent by the king of Asgard,” he said. “Let them believe you mean Odin or Thor – even my brother, I think, has the wits to pretend he gave such an order, if asked.”

Jahanna rolled the ring between her fingers, then flicked him that sideways glance. “This isn’t only about gaining the elves’ aid, is it,” she said. “You don’t want me in the middle of the fighting.”

He hesitated, but he knew she already knew the truth. As he’d told her, you couldn’t lie to a liar. And anyway, he was beginning to realize he didn’t want to lie to her, not anymore; didn’t want to do anything to jeopardize her trust in him. A trust he didn’t fully understand, but which he would do anything to keep, for he couldn’t remember the last time anyone had trusted him. So he said quietly, “Yes. I’d rather have you someplace safe. It’s only the two of us who can stand against Thanos, and if I die, then it’s on you to protect the gems, and the universe with them.” She was still watching him, and he reached over to wrap his fingers tight around hers. “Please,” he whispered.

Finally she nodded. “All right.” The corner of her mouth quirked up, not quite a smile, and she added, “But only if you promise not to die, because I don’t want to face Thanos without you.”

“I promise to do everything I can to stay alive,” he said, and leaned close to kiss her forehead. “Given what we’re up against, it’s the best I can do.”

“I know,” she said, a bit sadly; but she slid fingers into his hair, pulling him close for a real kiss. He wound an arm around her, taking comfort in her heat, glad that Tikal was out hunting so they had privacy for a while—

A pulse of magic, insistent, from his scepter where it leaned in a corner, and Loki sighed. “Speaking of Thanos…” he muttered. Jahanna winced against him but allowed him to disentangle himself; he called the scepter to his hand and set it across his knees. He really, truly did not want to do this, not after what had happened last time – but Jahanna was right here, and he remembered again her saying I won’t let them hurt you. He managed a smile for her. “Wish me luck?”

She kissed him once more, slow and lingering, until he was very nearly tempted to ignore Thanos’s summons and damn the consequences. Then came another pulse from the scepter, even more insistent than before, and he reluctantly turned his attention inward, to his magic, and sent his consciousness across the realms to Asgard.

His double materialized at the foot of the dais leading up to the throne where Thanos sat, and Loki knelt, bowing his head for a moment, making a point of obsequience, before rising again. He could hear the Other’s footsteps behind him and forced himself to continue looking forward, toward Thanos. “Master,” he said, and if the word was foul on his tongue neither his face nor voice gave any hint. “You sent for me?”

“Yes,” the Other hissed, and Loki suppressed a shiver; he was closer than his footsteps would indicate. The Other continued, “You said it would not be long before you had the rest of the gems, yet still you make Him wait.”

“My apologies,” Loki said. “There was… an unforeseen delay. My brother and his friends put up more resistance than I expected. But we should be back on schedule now. And I’ve a gift for you,” he added quickly. Something he’d prepared for exactly this situation, which would hopefully distract Thanos, keep him thinking about things other than Loki and the gems.

Thanos tilted his head slightly; he was intrigued. The Other said, “A gift?” and finally circled around into view, though he stayed irritatingly just at the edge of Loki’s sight. “What gift?”

Loki summoned to his hands the manacles and muzzle Thor had put on him, days ago in the mortal realm. “Thor Odinson used these to humiliate me before his shield companions. I thought you might find it fitting to do the same to him, when I deliver him to you.”

Thanos’s mouth split into a broad grin, and his voice rattled the pillars and grated like knives over Loki’s bones: Odin’s son leashed like a dog.

“Yes,” Loki said, and didn’t try to hide his own sharp grin. “He and his companions will soon come to Asgard. They think they can stop you. I thought you would like to show them just how wrong they are.”

Thanos laughed, the sound flaying across Loki’s flesh, but Loki stood his ground. Jahanna had worried that the chains would be a step too far, even for Thor – especially for Thor, proud as he was – but had eventually acceded and given them to Loki. Now, Loki held them out to the Other, who took them and studied them for a moment before carrying them up the steps to Thanos. The titan, too, looked them over, then made a gesture to the Other, who tucked them away in some hidden pocket of his robes. Loki waited, keeping his stance calm, submissive; hoping silently that they would be satisfied and let him go—

“An excellent gift, slave,” the Other purred, as he turned to descend the steps toward Loki. “But there is one more matter we must discuss.”

Damn. Loki licked his lips and said carefully, “What matter is that?”

The Eliatrope, Thanos said, and it wasn’t just his voice that made Loki’s skin crawl.

He took a breath, let it out. Control. “What about her?” he said.

“She is a bad influence,” the Other said. He crossed the floor to stand right in front of Loki, his mutated hand coming up to cup Loki’s jaw. “It is time to bring her to heel.”

“No!” Loki protested; caught himself and said more calmly, “I still need her. We have yet to get the last gem from Niflheim—”

“Get it without her,” the Other snapped. “She is a distraction to you. She demands your attention when you should be pursuing His goal wholeheartedly.” His fingers dug into Loki’s jaw, nails sharp as tacks spiking into his flesh, preventing him from speaking. “Bring her here, now. Tell her nothing. If she makes any attempt at resistance or escape, you will suffer the consequences.” A surge of power with the last word, snapping through Loki’s projected body into his soul, screaming along the broken edges of his mind, and he came back to his real body with a gasp.

“Loki?” Jahanna said sharply, and his breath stuck in his throat, the concern in her voice like a knife through his heart. He wanted to scream run, get out of here, hide in Emrub beyond Thanos’s reach, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t, and he had never hated himself as much as he did in that moment.

Because as much as he loved Jahanna, as much as he wanted to keep her safe, keep her free (keep her trust)… if Thanos or the Other so much as suspected that Loki was not wholly their creature, then the universe was doomed. His plan only worked so long as Thanos believed that Loki was loyal to him. If Jahanna fled with the gems they’d collected so far, Loki could survive the punishment – had survived before, when he was the Other’s plaything – but he wouldn’t be in place when Thor and the Avengers arrived in Asgard, and Thanos would kill them and use the one gem he did have to tear reality apart until he found Jahanna. And if Loki fled with Jahanna, if they hid themselves away in Emrub or somewhere else only the Eliatropes could reach, the result would be much the same. It wouldn’t matter that he’d saved her when Thanos destroyed everything else.

I’m sorry.

He let himself shudder, and felt her hand on his arm, light and warm and gentle. He looked up at her, and whatever she saw on his face made her frown, sharp and uneasy. You can’t lie to a liar, and he almost hoped she would figure it out, that she would understand, would run—

—the Other’s slithering magic pulsed in the center of his soul, warning, and Loki clamped down on that line of thought. You couldn’t lie to a liar, but he was Loki Silvertongue, Loki Liesmith, the God of Lies and Mischief. If anyone could do it, it was him.

“I’m sorry,” he said out loud. “Thanos was… not pleased with the delay.” He allowed some of the fear to show on his face – let her believe it was fear of Thanos rather than fear of what he was about to do.

“That’s not all,” Jahanna said quietly. “Is it.”

Centuries of practice kept his physical reaction under control, kept his heartbeat from speeding up, his face from showing the wrong emotions. She was sharp, and he’d have to be very, very careful. He shivered again, not completely faked. “No,” he said. “Thanos wants to see us both. In person.”

Her turn to catch her breath; remembering, no doubt, the Other’s demonstration of the punishment for failure. Loki found her hand and squeezed it. “It will be all right,” he whispered, all his lies in that one sentence, because it wouldn’t be, not now, not ever, not for the reasons she was thinking nor the reasons she didn’t yet know.

She squeezed back, and the reassuring smile on her mouth almost broke him. “I know,” she said gently. “We’ll be fine.” She stood up, pulling him with her; Loki called the Eliacube to him from where it had been resting on a table, and concentrated on opening the portal. He knew if he looked at her his resolve would shatter.

The portal hummed open, wavering at the edges and ugly (nothing like an Eliatrope portal, he couldn’t even do that right), and Jahanna squeezed his hand once more before stepping through. And that did break him, just for an instant; he choked, gasped – control, wrenched himself back, wrapped the ragged edges of his control around himself and followed her through the portal to Asgard—

—and into a nightmare: Jahanna standing frozen, hands half-raised; Thanos directly in front of her, one vast hand wearing the Infinity Gauntlet and resting on her head between her fox-ears, glowing with his dark magic and the red gem’s power. He must have been waiting, must have moved the moment the portal opened. His lips were pulled back in a vicious smile, and he met Loki’s eyes over Jahanna’s head. His voice was barbed wire and razors: Well done, slave. You have satisfied Me today.

Jahanna couldn’t turn her head, not with Thanos holding her, but her eyes slid sideways to Loki, just for a moment (I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I didn’t have a choice, there was nothing I could do…!). Before he could do anything (say anything, apologize), Thanos’s ugly rough magic roared around them all, spinning into a vortex that plunged like a blade into Jahanna’s forehead. Her whole body jerked, her back trying to arch despite Thanos’s grip, and she screamed—

—no stop it please, no, not her, not her, please…!—

—the roil of magic faded and vanished, and Jahanna sagged against the titan’s hand, her eyes falling closed. Loki didn’t dare breathe, didn’t dare move or speak, afraid Thanos had killed her, that he’d brought her not just to betrayal but to death—

Then her eyes opened, and the last tiny hope Loki had held vanished: they were no longer red-flecked black, but the unnatural indigo of Thanos’s magic. She straightened, calm and relaxed, and when Thanos let go of her and turned to walk back to the golden throne, she followed at his heels, a well-behaved pet. The Other watched her, mouth twisted in a smug grin; his head turned to Loki and though his eyes were covered Loki knew he was gloating, knew he was reveling in this latest torment to his favorite plaything.

And the worst part was that there was nothing Loki could do about it, because he was the one who had brought Jahanna here, had given her over to Thanos. Had betrayed her trust and led her to a fate worse than death. Never mind that it was the only choice he’d had, that he’d done it to hold on to the last slim chance to protect reality.

He was Loki Liesmith, and it didn’t matter that he was going to save the universe, because he’d just destroyed the one thing worth saving it for.

Chapter Text

Tony glanced over his shoulder, but saw no sign of the other Avengers, just a few SHIELD agents hurrying around on some super-secret spy business. He sagged against the wall with relief. Normally he loved this kind of work, elbow-deep in hardware while arguing physics with minds who could actually keep up with his, but in the last hour or so the lab had begun to feel claustrophobic, cloying, and he’d had to escape. He dragged an arm across his forehead, fairly sure he was leaving a smear of grease but too tired to care. He needed to go get coffee, maybe, or lie down for a while, yeah, lie down and have that cute nurse reapply aloe to his burns—

“Stark!”

Tony winced, and wondered if he pretended to be invisible if Steve would leave him alone. But the captain had never been good at picking up really obvious buzz-off hints, and Tony didn’t have the energy to play games right now anyway. He turned to face Steve as he jogged up. “What, are we girls now, have to go everywhere in pairs?”

Steve gave him one of those blank looks that meant the joke was too recent for him, then said, “I just wanted to make sure you’re all right. You left in a hurry—”

“I’m fine,” Tony interrupted. “Just fine. Dandy, in fact. That’s a word from your time, isn’t it? Dandy. Swell. Super. Um, groovy? Wait, that was the sixties, I think—” Steve was still looking at him. “—No, no I am not fine, not at all fine, there, are you happy?” Tony threw his hands into the air, then sighed and scrubbed at his face tiredly. He needed a shave, and the all-over sunburn (dragon-breath-burn, whatever) was a constant ache trying to derail his train of thought.

“Stark,” Steve said, and there was the military in his voice, demanding, but something softer as well. “Tony. What do you need?”

“What do I—I don’t know. I don’t. Know.” Tony pushed away from the wall and started walking down the hall, suddenly unbearably restless. “I need to not be one of six people standing between the universe and—and utter goddamn annihilation. I need to know I’m not fucking this up royally. I need to… Damn it, I don’t know!”

Steve gripped his shoulder, brought him to a stop. “Tony—”

“I’m a businessman, Cap,” Tony interrupted, wheeling around to face him. “The Iron Man thing, that was just… it was because I couldn’t just sit in that cave, I couldn’t just stand around while Obie sold weapons to terrorists, or while that idiot Hammer got half my expo guests killed with those drones of his. I’m not—I’m no… no hero. I’m just a guy in a suit.”

“A guy in a suit who caught a nuclear warhead and redirected it through a portal in space-time to save all of New York,” Steve said reasonably.

“And I still have nightmares,” Tony snapped. “I keep seeing all those people…” He had to stop there, stop before his voice betrayed him. He turned away.

Silence for a long minute, then, “…yeah,” Steve said quietly. “You’re not the only one. But that doesn’t make you any less of a hero.”

Tony scanned the hall, the floor, not sure what he was looking for, not sure what he was hoping to see. An escape, maybe, or… or something. He turned back around, looked up at Steve. “What if I’m wrong?” he demanded. “About Loki. What if I’m wrong, and I’m leading us straight into a trap?”

Steve met his eyes. “Then cut the wire.” He clapped him on the shoulder and turned back toward the lab, leaving Tony alone with his fears in the empty hall.

* * *

Thor had not wanted to leave the laboratory after finishing the map of Asgard; he knew that it was unlikely Loki would return, having delivered his message, but he could not bear the thought of leaving Jane unguarded again. But the fourth time Jane tripped over him, she had asked him, with barely-concealed exasperation, to please find somewhere less problematic to sit. So he’d retreated to a far corner of the room, slouched in one of the small hard chairs of which Midgardians were inexplicably fond, and from there watched Jane work.

Or at least pretended to; his thoughts were far afield, back in Asgard before Loki’s fall, before Thor’s failed coronation ceremony. Before everything had changed. Tony’s accusation echoed in his head, how about you start with trust, only Thor couldn’t figure out where he’d gone wrong. He trusted his brother with his life – or had, before Loki had sent the Destroyer to kill him, and would again in a heartbeat if only Loki would come back to reason. Yet Tony clearly thought something was lacking, and Thor racked his brains to unearth it.

He thought again about what Loki had said, back on the mountain after Thor had taken him from the SHIELD jet: I remember a shadow, living in the shade of your greatness. And later, here on this base before the dragon appeared: You thought I would be happy in your shadow, with your scraps. Scraps of trust? No, that wasn’t it. How much more could Thor trust him, if to have his back in a fight was not enough?

He growled to himself in frustration, drawing an uneasy glance from Doctor Banner. Loki talked of shadows and shades, of Thor as Asgard’s darling while Loki himself languished unloved. To be sure, Thor knew his brother had made people uneasy – but that had been deliberate, flaunting his seiðr in the faces of servants and noblemen alike, laughing at their discomfort. He’d played tricks and pranks, some more unkind than others, and if that had made some wary to be around him… surely Loki understood that was his own fault? If he had not carried with him always the potential for mischief, then perhaps more of their cohort would have been comfortable in his presence.

Yet even if they had, Loki had always been one to twist others’ words into an attack on himself: innocent comments reframed as malicious barbs or slander, innocuous actions called out as deliberate slights. Thor could not count the times the Warriors Three, while bantering over their cups, had cast a joke Loki’s way only for him to sit sullen and offended, or worse, storm away from the table in a dark rage. Nor the times Thor had found him sitting alone in the library, brooding over the latest imagined insult delivered by a member of the court—

“You’re not going to understand him.”

Thor jumped so hard he nearly fell off the chair. Agent Romanoff had appeared beside him, quiet as a ghost, and with a flash of guilt he realized he’d been hoping to see Loki there instead. But that was only, he told himself, because always before it had been Loki, slipping into his favorite spot at Thor’s shoulder and murmuring advice into his ear. He shook off the memory and said to Romanoff, “I beg your pardon?”

“Loki,” she said, though that much was obvious. “You won’t be able to understand him.”

“He’s my brother,” Thor growled. “If I cannot, then who could hope to?”

“That’s why you can’t,” she said. She was staring out across the room, toward Agent Barton where he perched on the edge of a table. “You’re too close to him. You don’t have objectivity.”

“And you do?” he said.

“More than you,” she answered.

Thor almost snapped at her, almost lashed out – but stopped himself. It was not her fault that it should have been Loki there with him, advising him; not her fault that Loki believed Thor had driven him away. He clenched and unclenched his fists, and when the anger faded he said, “Then what can I do?”

“Until this is over? Nothing,” she said bluntly. “But once we solve this, once we deal with Thanos…” She hesitated. “Ask him. Ask him, and then listen when he tells you.”

Thor scowled. “What sort of answer is that?”

She was silent for a long minute, looking over at Barton, until Thor began to wonder whether she’d heard him. Finally she said softly, “When you can answer your own question, you’ll understand.” And she pushed away from the wall, slipping easily through the room’s chaos to return to Barton’s side.

Thor glared at her back, his fists clenching again. Even Loki at his most cryptic was more help than that. What else would Thor do but listen, if he asked Loki? What sort of insight could that possibly give him? Thor had already tried asking, half a dozen times, but Loki had made it clear that all he wanted from Thor was to see him ground under Loki’s heel in revenge for a lifetime of imagined hate.

But…

Slowly Thor’s fists relaxed, his shoulders sagging at the memory of the pain on his brother’s face.

If Agent Romanoff thought it would help…

Whatever it takes, brother, he thought fiercely. Whatever I must do.

After all this was over, he would ask.

And he would listen.

* * *

Loki barely had time to register Tikalukatal’s presence as he emerged from the portal into their volcanic lair, before the dragon’s hand closed around his throat and lifted him off the ground. “What have you done?” Tikal snarled, and his voice rattled dust from the ceiling.

“I’m sorry,” Loki choked out. “I had to.” He didn’t fight, didn’t want to fight, would almost have preferred if Tikal broke his neck and ended it right there.

But Tikal didn’t; his grip tightened painfully on Loki’s throat and his wakfu-pupils blazed nearly purple in his rage, but he didn’t kill him. He roared, “‘Had to’?! You ‘had’ to sell Tikalukatal’s sister to the titan?!”

“No choice,” Loki managed. Tikal might not break his neck, but he was definitely crushing his windpipe. “Kill me… if you will… but know that… I had no choice…!”

The dragon growled, low and furious, and flung Loki across the room. He clipped the high back of a chair, spun, and slammed hard into the far wall; hit the floor and lay dazed for a moment. Tikalukatal appeared above him, radiating heat and fury, smoke blasting from his nostrils with each breath; probably the only reason he wasn’t in his full dragon form was because he wouldn’t have fit in the room.

Loki looked up at him and laughed, ugly and humorless. “I don’t care,” he said bitterly. “Kill me if you want. I’ve nothing left worth living for.”

Tikal huffed, the smoke scorching Loki’s exposed skin. “You would so easily give up?”

“Why shouldn’t I?” Loki demanded. He shoved himself to a sitting position and glared up at Tikal. “I’d no choice but to… to hand her over, but without her, our—our chances of winning have gone from slim to… to near nonexistent!” Stuttering, and he hated it, hated that he was losing control, but hadn’t he already lost, lost everything, nothing left to care about—

Tikalukatal grabbed him by the front of his armor and hauled him upright again. “Jahanna believes in you,” he spat. “You would discard that because you are afraid? You would sacrifice her and then give up?” The last two words punctuated by a hard shake; Loki’s teeth rattled.

“What else can I do?” he said. “I’ve nothing left, I—I can’t even take up the Infinity Gems, I’ve read about them, I know what they do to the mind, there’s nothing—”

“There is always something,” Tikalukatal growled. He dropped Loki; unprepared, Loki landed wrong and stumbled. When he’d caught his balance he looked up to see Tikal stepping back, disgust on his face, near vibrating with anger.

Cold dread shot through him and he asked, “Where are you going?” No, don’t leave me alone, please, not alone—

“Somewhere Tikalukatal will not be tempted to tear off your fool head,” Tikal snarled, and vanished with a soft pop of displaced air.

Loki collapsed against the wall and slid down to huddle at its base. Alone. Alone, abandoned, no, you drove them off, you always drive them off, anyone who might possibly care—

He buried his face in his hands. Took a deep breath and struggled to control his shaking. He’d been alone before. Had always been alone, when it came down to it. He’d planned to do this alone before he’d met Jahanna and Tikal, he could still do it alone.

Had to do it, because someone had to defeat Thanos, and Loki was the only one left.

He laughed aloud, bitter and despairing. If he was all that was left, then the universe was doomed.

Chapter Text

Loki didn’t sleep at all that night; didn’t even try. Instead he went back to work on the Bifrost replacement, although it was a mental exercise only, now. Jahanna would never help him with it, not after what he’d done, but it was something with which to occupy his mind. Something to keep him from thinking about the precariousness of his position, about just how much trouble he was in.

Loki had no idea whether Jahanna would have told Thanos about their planned betrayal. Loki himself had ordered his SHIELD servants early on to tell him anything of relevance, but he wasn’t sure whether Thanos would have thought to do the same. Part of him hoped the titan was too confident in his place on Asgard’s throne, and couldn’t conceive that his slave would act against him – and the fact that Thanos had not yet summoned him back to Asgard, nor attempted to kill him, seemed to support this.

But the more realistic part of him suspected that Thanos would have asked, and simply intended to let Loki fetch the last gem and bring them all to him in Asgard. Then, prepared for Loki’s betrayal, Thanos could simply kill him and take the gems. No sense in wasting a slave who was doing what you wanted anyway, regardless of his motives for doing so.

Yet Loki didn’t dare risk trying to use the four gems he had already collected to upend his own plan and stage an early coup. The few writings in Asgard’s libraries that discussed the gems were explicit in how dangerous they were, how damaging to an Aesir’s mind. Thanos had constructed the Gauntlet in part to help him control them, and even then only the fact that he was a titan gave him the strength to resist their effects. As Loki was now, his mind and soul in tatters, he had no hope of accomplishing anything before they destroyed him.

And even if he thought he could manage it, if he thought he could handle the gems… if he gambled wrongly, if Thanos really was still unaware of Loki’s disloyalty, then Loki would be giving away the game, giving up the plan and ending any chance of a victory won with other than brute strength. And in a contest of brute strength, even if Loki had four of the Infinity Gems, Thanos was still a titan, and in possession of the Gem of Power and an army of Chitauri. Loki did not like his chances in such a fight.

So did his thoughts chase themselves round, until finally sunrise came, and with it safety to travel to the deepest regions of Niflheim. He took with him the scepter and the Eliacube – without Jahanna, his existing locating spell was of little use, but he hoped the scepter could replace her link in the chain, if with greatly reduced power and precision. The cube’s portal deposited him at the outer edge of Niflheim where the mists were thick, though he could hear the flowing of rivers nearby. It was dark, as Niflheim always was, and bitterly cold, and knowing why the cold did not leave him breathless as it would have Thor or Sif or the Warriors Three was no comfort. He shivered a little.

The locating spell, when he invoked it, produced a dim and thready trace, pointing away into the mists. Loki checked what landmarks he could see – the curving edge of a river, a faint glimmer of gold from Gjallarbrú’s thatching – and sighed. Of course the gem would be in Hel, and that was nearly the last straw, for even Odin could not go far into the land of the dead and return. If no living being could retrieve the Infinity Gem hidden there, the Gauntlet could never be complete.

Still, Thanos wanted the gem, and didn’t care what it would cost. If Loki didn’t retrieve the gem, Thanos would kill him anyway, and since Loki had no hope of ever seeing Valhalla, he might as well save himself a trip. He took a deep breath to steady himself, feeling the cold bite into his lungs, and struck out along the path lit by the Eliacube.

There was little to see in Niflheim this deep into the mists, save the slow shifting of the mists themselves – an unsettling effect, for Loki would often glimpse movement from the corner of his eye, and could never quite determine whether it was simply the mists, or something more dangerous. Sound was muffled, too, so that the swish of his leathers and the click of his footsteps seemed weirdly distant. The only thing not muted was the roaring of the rivers, which shifted and faded and grew again as Loki’s path took him past their great banks, and finally rose to a deafening thunder as he crossed the river Gjöll on its golden bridge Gjallarbrú.

Beyond it he could see the gates of Hel, towering dark and grim over the mists, and the walls of the great hall spread out far beyond sight to either side. The cold here was terrible; Loki’s breath fogged near as thick as the mists, and he was shivering beneath his armor. He drew on the Eliacube, perched on his shoulder, for warmth, but even its power was weak here. Wakfu was the energy of life, but this place was death. Every part of him screamed to turn back, turn away before he attracted the attention of the mistress of Hel, before he lost the will or the strength to return.

He didn’t, and the gates grew ever taller in his sight, until they encompassed his whole field of vision, black stone fading into grey mist. As he approached the gates, a sudden sharp thump cut through the quiet, followed by a deep rumble that rattled up through Loki’s boots. A crack appeared at the center of the gates, and the great doors began to swing slowly open. Dread shot through him and Loki’s breath came too quickly, puffs of fog blurring his vision.

He almost missed the figure, tiny in the distance, coming toward him from the depths of Hel’s hall. When he spotted it he froze, the dread becoming an almost solid thing, like ice creeping through his veins and rooting him in place. The Eliacube on his shoulder guttered like a dying flame, and the weight of death surrounding him grew a dozenfold, unnatural fear squeezing his heart. He wanted to run, but even were he not frozen, unable to will his limbs to motion, he would not have left. Could not have, not when the last Infinity Gem was still beyond those gates.

Yet even as he thought it, even as his eyes traced the faint line of magic still stretching from the Eliacube, he realized that the spell was growing stronger, brighter. The gem was coming closer, and Loki’s eyes went again to the hazy figure approaching him from beyond death. He could make out no features through the swirling mists, save that it was dark and masculine and, judging by its size despite how far away it was, a giant. Perhaps a guardian, or a gatekeeper, come to drive him away (or claim him), though Loki couldn’t imagine why such a being would carry the Infinity Gem. Still, he was Loki Silvertongue; if this giant held the gem then Loki would talk it away from him—Then the mists parted, the giant coming into sudden focus.

Blue skin like ice, studded with glittering green gems. Thick ridges arcing back along his skull, tapering to sharp points like a crown. Ceremonial scars, stained black as ink, lining his face. Blood-red eyes that fixed on Loki with a terrifying intensity.

Laufey.

He couldn’t breathe.

The Jotun King stopped some distance back, only half a step before Loki would have bolted. He looked Loki up and down, moving with the same slow regard Loki remembered from Jotunheim. Loki was frozen, a rabbit caught in the gaze of a wolf, remembering the hatred burning in Laufey’s eyes when he’d greeted him and Thor their first visit, the hunger in his voice when he’d declared war to Odin, his casual Kill him when Loki had come back alone.

The gentleness in his face when he’d lain his infant son on the altar in the temple.

Loki wanted to scream.

“Loki of Asgard,” Laufey said softly.

Loki licked his lips, his mouth dry. “Laufey,” he managed.

Laufey’s head turned, gaze dropping to his closed fist; he held out his hand, fingers unfolding to reveal the bright glow of the Infinity Gem, unnatural warmth and sunshine in this world of dark and cold. “You seek this,” he said.

Loki glanced at the gem, back up to Laufey’s face. “Have you come to make me beg, then?” he asked.

“No,” Laufey said. He met Loki’s eyes. “I came to see my son.”

The words he’d been about to say died in Loki’s throat. For a long moment he could do nothing, not move nor speak nor think.

Laufey waited, patient as the ice.

Finally Loki managed, “You know.”

“Yes,” Laufey agreed.

“How long?” Loki demanded. “When did you know?”

Laufey’s gaze turned inward. “I suspected,” he said softly, “when Odin returned from war and announced a son, though not so much as a rumor had whispered such news. And I knew, when I saw your arm in the battle.”

Loki looked down at his hand, remembering the frost giant’s grip on his wrist, the shock of cold traveling up and down his arm, the greater shock of seeing his skin turn blue and alien. “You ordered your guards to kill me.”

“I wanted to see what you would do,” Laufey said. “I wanted to be sure.”

“You believed me,” Loki whispered. The hurt, the grief beneath the betrayal in Laufey’s eyes, when Loki had declared himself a son of Odin, had killed him in Odin’s chambers, suddenly making sense. “You thought that since I knew, I was sincere.”

“I had hoped.” Laufey’s eyes closed, sorrow on his scarred face. “I underestimated Odin Allfather, and what he has done to you.”

Ice in Loki’s chest, splinters in his soul, the broken pieces crying out in pain. He searched Laufey’s face, not certain what he wanted to see, not certain what he wanted to believe. A million things he wanted to say, questions to ask, a lifetime of words never spoken.

What he said was, “You didn’t leave me to die. You didn’t abandon me.”

Grief on Laufey’s face like a knife in his soul. “No,” he whispered. “I mourned you.” Red eyes met green, aching. “For a year and a day we mourned.”

Loki was shaking. Tears frozen on his face, words frozen on his tongue. Laufey moved, then, coming closer with a strange gentle caution; stopped only an arm’s length from Loki and knelt, bringing them eye to eye. A massive hand reached out, settled on Loki’s shoulder, cupped his neck. Laufey’s touch was like ice, but it didn’t burn. Would never burn him. “Let me see you,” Laufey said. “Let me see my son without the Allfather’s lies.”

Cold washed through Loki, no effort at all, not here in this frozen land, with his father’s hand on his shoulder. Cold and ice and blue, the unfinished scars of an infant, red eyes meeting red. Laufey gazed upon him with the same tenderness as he had so long ago, in the temple. “My son,” he said, and his voice was as broken as Loki’s soul.

A moment passed, and an eternity within it, then Laufey reluctantly let go. “You cannot stay here,” he said. He took one of Loki’s blue hands, like a child’s within his own, and pressed the Infinity Gem into his palm, folding his fingers around it.

Loki looked down at the gem, back up at Laufey; found his voice enough to manage, “Why?”

“Because,” Laufey rumbled, “when the bards tell the legend of the saving of the universe, it will be Laufey’s son whose name they sing.”

He stepped back, a few long strides that carried him back to the other side of the gates, even as the massive doors groaned into motion. He stayed there, at the edge of Hel, and neither father nor son looked away until the gates slammed closed.

Chapter Text

“Tony. Stop touching it.”

Tony jerked his hand back. “I’m not touching it!”

Jane fixed him with a look disturbingly similar to Pepper’s behave yourself glare. “It’s fine,” she said. “It’s as good as we’re going to make it, at least.”

“I know, I know,” Tony said, but he still reached out to brush a speck of dust off the gleaming body of their portal device.

Bruce ducked under one of the support arms. “Tony,” he said reproachfully, and took him by the shoulders and steered him away. To Jane, he said, “The sensors are all in place. Hopefully you’ll get enough data to figure out a replacement for the promethium.”

“Hopefully,” Jane echoed.

Nick Fury had come through on his promise for the promethium, although he’d warned Tony that Stark Industries would be held responsible for the promethium shortage for the next decade or so. Tony thought this was entirely unfair; it wasn’t like he was using the stuff to fuel his personal jet-ski or something. He was saving the world here, and anyway promethium hadn’t been his choice, but Bruce’s. But Fury didn’t care – SHIELD needed a scapegoat, so SHIELD got a scapegoat.

Still, the portal device was finished, and it was a thing of beauty in Tony’s eyes. They had borrowed the basic design from Erik Selvig’s machine, building it out and making modifications to support the alternate power sources, and where the Tesseract would have sat was instead the modified arc reactor core. Tony still wasn’t totally sure whether he had it right; he thought so, he hoped so, Loki had said that Tony’s own reactor was similar to the Tesseract and he’d been able to extrapolate a lot from SHIELD’s previous work with the thing – but the truth was, he wouldn’t know for sure until they tried to open the portal.

The device stood inside a vast SHIELD tent in the desert outside Puente Antiguo, where faint markings in the sand bore testament to Thor’s last trip via the Bifrost. While the tent did a good enough job of keeping out the blowing sand and the blinding sun, it had the unfortunate side effect of keeping in the heat: the interior was like an oven, and Tony’s t-shirt was already stuck to him in a way that was decidedly non-photogenic. Bruce, exasperatingly, looked like he always did, and Tony couldn’t help but wonder if a perk of being the Hulk was an extreme tolerance for high temperatures. Except Jane, too, seemed unbothered, albeit dusty from crawling around under the machine while they were setting it up. Tony decided to take refuge in the fact that most of the SHIELD agents scurrying around were at least as sweaty as he was.

The sound of tires on sand and an engine shutting off heralded the arrival of Steve, Fury, Natasha, and Barton, who had stayed behind on the base during the transportation of the portal device to set up last-minute plans. Tony decided he hated them when they came through the tent flap, Steve in his ridiculous spangly getup – modified from New York with some of the same enhancements Tony had added to the Mark VIII, but still goofy-looking – and the three SHIELD spies in their black bodysuits, and none of them looked the slightest bit uncomfortable.

“That’s not even fair,” he complained. “Do SHIELD uniforms come standard-issue with air conditioning now? What gives?”

“SHIELD vehicles come with air conditioning, Mister Stark,” Fury said dryly. He stopped a few feet away from the device and eyed it suspiciously. “This is it?”

“Gorgeous, isn’t it?” Tony said, and grinned at Bruce and Jane.

Steve circled it, clearly uneasy; while Tony normally thought his fear of modern technology was more than a little hilarious, he couldn’t really blame him for this one, not when the last portal device he’d seen had been spitting out an alien army over New York. Steve shot a glance at Tony. “Do we even know it’s going to take us to the right place? Thor said there’s nine realms – what if we end up somewhere other than Asgard?”

“We’re… pretty sure it’s right?” Tony said, and Steve raised an eyebrow incredulously.

“It’s why we’re out here,” Jane interjected, waving a hand to indicate the desert around them. “This is where the Bifrost touched down last year, more than once. Thor thinks that will act as a guide, like a—a well-worn path, or a channel or something.”

“And some of the formulae Loki changed, had to do with what we believe are the aiming mechanisms,” Bruce added.

“I hope you’re right,” Steve muttered, and Tony winced. He was acutely aware that the rest of them were staking their lives on Tony’s gut feeling about Loki. Granted, Steve and Natasha had similar gut feelings, and anyway Tony’s gut had rarely steered him wrong – but he didn’t like it. Didn’t like knowing that he was playing in a new sandbox now, a bigger one, where his own stupid mistakes would hurt a lot more people than just himself.

Steve glanced around. “Where is Thor, anyway?”

“He got an agent to take him to Puente Antiguo,” Jane said. “I think he wanted to apologize for, um. Wrecking their town last year.”

Fury snorted. “He’d do better to quit bringing all his damn Asgardian family feuds to Earth.”

“Yeah, well.” Tony shrugged, trying to shake off the fear. “Once we take care of the universe-destroying threat, we can send the whole family to Dr. Phil. Special episode: Parenting, Gods and Giants Edition.”

Bruce snickered. “That’ll end well.”

Steve shook his head at all of them. “He’d better get back soon. We need to get ready.”

Tony sobered again, the fear coming back all in a rush. Get ready – ready to go another world, ready to take on an alien army, and a titan that had barely been defeated by three gods last time. Ready to take on Loki and his web of lies and truth, and that itself was almost scarier than the rest. He traded glances with Bruce, saw his own worry reflected in the other man’s eyes. “Yeah,” he agreed. “Somebody find the Bobbsey Twins, let them know. I’m going to get suited up.”

* * *

Clint had taken one look at the portal device and veered off to a corner of the tent behind a wall of stacked packing crates. Natasha followed; waited quietly while he fussed with the crates and finally settled on top of a short stack, his feet dangling off the edge. The base doctor had allowed him to swap the bulky ankle boot for a smaller, lighter brace; it wasn’t ideal for combat but then, neither was going into combat on a sprained ankle. But Natasha knew better than to try to talk him out of going, so instead she hoisted herself up on the crate beside him, shoulder to shoulder.

After a minute Clint said, “D’you think if I accidentally put an arrow or three in Loki, anyone would care?”

“Clint,” she said gently.

He sighed.

She bumped his shoulder. “You’ll get your chance.”

“But the titan comes first, I know, I know.” He rubbed at the fading bruise on his forehead and winced. “I’m starting to feel like I’m not even allowed to hate him. ‘Poor Loki, he’s seriously messed up, it’s not his fault what he’s doing.’”

“That’s not true—”

“Stark’s on his side,” Clint interrupted. “And Rogers is leaning that way, and Thor is, well. Thor.” He gave her a sideways look. “And I think you’re starting to pity him, too.”

“I might pity him for whatever Thanos did to him, and whatever issues he has with his family,” Natasha said, and looked Clint in the eye. “But he hurt you.”

He met her gaze and in his eyes she could see the fear and the pain and the anger he wouldn’t show to anyone else. She found his hand, held it tight in her own; he looked away, leaned against her shoulder, and neither of them moved until Steve called for them from somewhere beyond the stack of crates.

Clint sat up, scrubbed a hand over his eyes, and Natasha didn’t comment on the moisture in them. Clint was breaking, yes, but she trusted him to hold together at least until after they’d dealt with the world-ending threat. Then she could help him.

She squeezed his hand. “Ready?”

Mouth set in a thin line, eyes hard and determined. “Yeah.”

They slid down from the stack of crates together, and it was only long practice that had them a professional distance apart by the time they rounded the crates into the view of the others.

* * *

Thor looked over his shoulder at the little mortal town through the rear window of the SHIELD vehicle as it turned onto the road back to the temporary base. Guilt stabbed at him; he’d seen almost as soon as he got there that apologies wouldn’t be enough. People had been hurt, had lost their homes and their livelihoods in the Destroyer’s attack – it had been luck alone that no one had died. And while Thor wanted to lay all the blame at Loki’s feet for sending the Destroyer in the first place, he also knew that his own actions, calling the tornado and toying with the creature, showing off his powers to Jane and Darcy and Erik, had made an already-bad situation much, much worse.

It was easy to forget, when they looked so much like Aesir, how fragile mortals were. How easily hurt, and not just physically. An Asgardian farmer could lose his market stall in such an accident, and the cost and recovery would be no more than a tiny bump in his long life. But for the mortals whose shops had been destroyed… They lived such short lives; they could not afford to waste a moment paying the price for a god’s hubris.

He could tell they didn’t believe him when he promised them restitution; they weren’t rude, exactly, but blunt and honest in the way of mortals. Despite what they’d seen, they weren’t inclined to believe Thor a prince, nor a god, and his promises were naught but words unless he produced the gold to back them up. Gold which he was no longer sure he had, not if Thanos had truly ravaged Asgard as Loki had claimed.

He knew if Sif had been there, or the Warriors Three, they would have told him that he was brooding, and that brooding was a bad way to prepare for battle. The Fates knew they had all teased Loki about it, that he spent too much time brooding and not enough time fighting. Yet Thor was beginning to think that perhaps Loki had had the right of it; that perhaps it was not such a bad thing to stop and think about the severity of one’s own actions. And he wondered, guiltily, whether this was what Odin had meant when he’d called Thor vain and greedy and cruel. Whether Odin would have been proud to see him now, acknowledging the harm he’d done – or if, yet again, Thor was too late, too slow. Just as he had been too slow to see how far gone Loki was.

“Hey. We’re here.”

The driver’s voice shook Thor back to the present, and he looked out the window to see the vast SHIELD tent. The vehicle pulled up near the entrance and Thor climbed out – he’d figured out how the door latches worked, at least; that had been embarrassing the first time he’d traveled in such a conveyance. As he ducked under the open tent flap, he spotted the others gathered in a loose circle around the portal device: Captain Rogers in his colorful costume, Tony in his metal suit with his helmet off, the two agents in SHIELD’s grim black uniform, and Doctor Banner, quiet and unassuming and looking out of place. They turned as he entered, and Tony called out, “Oh good, we were starting to wonder if you died of heat stroke out there.”

A clatter of wheels and Jane slid out from underneath the portal device on a low flat board. She gave him an upside-down smile, and he took heart from her delight. He knew how long she had dreamed of opening a path between worlds, and today – if all went well – she would finally achieve that dream. He crossed the floor in time to catch her outstretched hands and hoist her easily upright. “That was the last adjustment,” she told him. “We’re ready.”

“Good,” Thor said, and kissed her, a warrior’s kiss, for luck before a battle—

“If you two lovebirds are done,” Fury’s voice interrupted them; they pulled apart a bit guiltily and turned to see Fury coming toward them, closing the talking device he held in one hand. “I’ve set up battalions armed with non-nuclear EMPs on both coasts and in Nebraska,” he said. “If the Chitauri break through and try to attack Earth again, we’re hoping that we can get the same disabling effect using the EMPs as with the nuke, but without the collateral damage.” He glanced over at Stark. “We’re targeting New York as their most likely landing point, so we’ve got our biggest force there. Lieutenant Colonel Rhodes is coordinating with Ms. Potts, using Stark Tower as a base.”

Tony frowned, but nodded. “He still have his suit?”

“Yes,” Fury said, “although with EMPs going off, I doubt he’ll wear it.”

“It’s got shielding,” Tony said. “Tell him to suit up. I don’t want to be the only Tin Man in this war, and it’ll help if they’ve got at least one guy in the air.”

“You do your job right, he won’t be fighting at all,” Fury said, and Tony smiled ruefully.

There was a moment’s pause, while they all thought about the director’s words, and Thor took the chance to speak up. He looked around at the assembled warriors, meeting their eyes in turn. “My friends,” he said. “I want to thank you, for doing this. Asgard is not your realm, and this is not your fight. If even half of what my brother says is true, the battle will be difficult. You put yourselves at risk for the sake of me and mine, and I owe you a great debt.”

“Hey,” Tony said, and reached over to clap Thor on the arm. “It’s all good. I’ve always wanted to see other worlds anyway.”

“And it is our fight,” Captain Rogers added solemnly. “If Thanos isn’t stopped, Earth will be his next target. We’re in this together.”

“Thank you,” Thor said. It helped, a little, knowing that even without Sif and the Warriors Three (and he could not think of them as dead; Loki must have lied about that) he had shield companions who would stand beside him in such dark times.

Rogers glanced around at each of them then, and finally turned to Jane. “Miss Foster,” he said. “Are you ready?”

“Just give me the signal,” she said. She stood on her toes to kiss Thor once more, then smiled at him – giddy, excited – and ran over to the far side of the tent, where the control mechanisms for the portal device had been set up, well out of what they believed its range would be. Fury began snapping orders at the rest of the SHIELD personnel to clear out; within seconds the tent was empty except for the director, the Avengers, and Jane.

Fury gave them all a solemn nod. “Good luck,” he said quietly, and turned on his heel and strode out of the tent to wait in the safety perimeter with his agents.

“All right,” Rogers said. “We don’t know what we’ll encounter when we get there, so be ready for anything.”

“The Chitauri, and Thanos, will know we’ve arrived,” Thor added, and held up a hand when Tony shot him a sharp glance. “Whether or not my brother has warned them of our coming, the Bifrost was never a subtle means of travel. While I do not know whether this portal will be as obvious after Loki’s modifications, we should expect it, and expect to be noticed.”

“Thor’s right,” Rogers said. “We plan for the worst.”

“And hope for the best,” Doctor Banner murmured.

“Exactly,” Rogers said. “Although, Doctor, it might be best if you stay, er, yourself as long as possible. On the off-chance that we don’t get noticed, or if we do walk straight into a trap, it’d be better to have you in a state where you can, er…”

“Follow complex orders,” Banner finished, and gave him a tolerant smile. “Got it.”

“Good.” Rogers swung his shield onto his arm; waited a moment while the rest of them prepared their weapons. Tony pulled on his helmet, golden mask slotting down to cover his face; Agent Barton had his bow out and an arrow strung. Agent Romanoff drew her own shooting weapon, pointed at the floor; and Thor hefted Mjölnir, solid and comforting in his hand. Whatever awaited them on the other side of the portal – whatever lies Loki had concocted, whatever traps Thanos had laid – they would be ready.

“Avengers,” Rogers said quietly, “let’s go.”

The portal device began to hum, the arc reactor flaring with a brilliant blue-white light eerily like the Tesseract’s. The great drum rotated to point at the assembled Avengers, and light gathered in the center of its crown. The machine’s hum rose to a roar, and Thor could feel the power gathering in its heart – enormous power struggling to be released, the machine fighting to hold it long enough to reach a full charge—

A crack and a flash, and space-time opened around them and carried them away.

* * *

Loki released the scrying spell and opened his eyes.

Thor and the mortals were on their way. Loki had all five Infinity Gems, if not an Eliatrope to guard them. He still didn’t know where Tikalukatal was, but he couldn’t wait for him. All the pieces were in place – all that were left to him, at least.

It was time to face Thanos.

Chapter Text

The portal deposited them on the ground at the far end rather more gently than Thor was used to; he had been braced for the shock of landing and instead found himself simply… standing as he had been, save that the ground beneath his feet had changed. It was disorienting; more so when he saw they were not at the broken end of the Bifrost as he had expected, and it took him a few seconds to realize that they had instead arrived at the point where the rainbow bridge met Asgard proper, tucked close beneath the arched portico.

Even as he recognized the portico, he saw, too, that Loki had not lied about the invasion: a Chitauri warbeast flew in a lazy circle around the spires of the palace, and more drifted through the upper reaches of the sky, vast and menacing and casting deep shadows over the city. Nearer at hand, the small Chitauri gliders zipped between the buildings, flashing past each other in a sentry pattern – though none of them had yet seen Thor or his companions.

“Whoa,” Tony said softly. His faceplate slid open and he stared around them at the vast buildings, even daring to lean out from beneath the shelter of the portico before Banner pulled him back (although Thor saw Banner sneak a look out as well). “Do you realize,” Tony said, “that we are the first humans to set foot on another world? Guys, look at this, it’s incredible…!”

“I should have brought a camera,” Banner breathed. “Look at the refraction on the horizon—”

“Hey,” Rogers said sharply; when they looked at him he jerked a thumb up toward the Chitauri gliders pointedly. “Ogle later. We don’t want them to see us.”

“This is probably the only blind spot in their entire patrol,” Barton muttered, his eyes fixed on the distant Chitauri. “We got lucky.”

“We got Loki,” Tony corrected. “I’d bet anything the modifications he made to the targeting matrices were to land us here.” He shot Thor a glance. “Still think he’s trying to get us killed?”

“I think he does not want us killed until we’re close enough to Thanos for him to make a show of it,” Thor said grimly.

Captain Rogers shook his head at him, but said only, “Whatever his reasons, we’re here and the Chitauri don’t seem to know it. We need to start making our way toward the palace. Thor, lead the way.”

Thor nodded, and took a moment to survey the area and judge the view of the Chitauri patrols before setting out toward the market, where layers of interweaving balconies and peristyles would provide cover for a good deal of their journey. The others fell into step behind him, moving quickly and surprisingly quietly, ducking under cover or into shadows when Chitauri passed overhead. Even Tony’s iron suit seemed muffled, his metal feet making little noise against the pavement, no louder than the whine of the gliders.

The city, too, was eerily silent. Thor was used to Asgard being a bustling metropolis; even in the dead of night there had always been at least a few men and women whose business kept them awake and in the streets. But now… now the streets were still and empty, no Asgardian common folk going about their lives, no Aesir nobles moving through them in glorious procession. Even Midgard’s great city, devastated as it had been by the Chitauri attack, had retained more life than this.

He hated that this was his new friends’ first view of his city, his realm. He wanted to tell them what Asgard was truly like: the sounds of women singing and men calling out their wares; the bright flashes of the peasants’ gowns and the glitter of the Aesir’s gems; the shine of stars along the horizon and the curve of sunlight over golden spires. He wanted to scrub away the shadow of the Chitauri, smooth out the jagged broken lines of the damaged towers distorting the skyline, fill in the streets with joyous people. He wanted to find Loki and shake into him the realization of what he’d done to Asgard, to their kingdom, their home; and it hurt to know that Loki almost certainly did not care – that in retaliation for a few imagined wrongs, he would destroy the lives of so many innocents.

It was not long before they came across the first real signs of devastation: a building smashed, stone and metal and wood strewn in heaps across the street. With it came the smell: the stench of rot and decay, of sliced intestines and spilled blood. The scent of death, and Thor shuddered. This was his realm, these were his people, and he could do naught but skulk like a thief past their broken homes. It only grew worse as they drew closer to the city’s center; soon they could see the bodies, Asgardian peasant and Aesir warrior alike, abandoned and rotting where they’d fallen. Chitauri bodies, too, lay here and there – but mostly it was Thor’s people he saw.

It was almost a welcome distraction when, while they were passing beneath a broad ivory loggia, Captain Rogers came forward to walk beside Thor. Almost, because his first words were, “If we’re going to be dealing with Loki, we need to have a game plan.”

Thor’s jaw set. He did not want to talk about Loki right now, not when his blood sang for vengeance against his brother for what he’d done to Thor’s kingdom. But Rogers pressed, “Have you thought about what I said? About Loki being under Thanos’s thumb?”

“Have you thought about what I said, about the Liesmith?” Thor snapped.

“From what we’ve seen, from what Stark said about him in the lab—”

“I told you,” Thor growled. “You do not know my brother as I do. If you feel sympathy for him, or any sort of kindness, it is only because he means you to. I’ve watched him do this more times than I can count. He convinces his enemies that he has been wounded, trapped, even defeated, so that they underestimate him and allow him to strike the killing blow.”

Rogers looked away, his mouth tightening. “Like on the Helicarrier, you mean.”

“Like his entire invasion plan,” Thor corrected him. “He allowed us to believe him captured, docile, beaten – and at the first opportunity he broke into my father’s vault and made off with the Tesseract and the Infinity Gauntlet.” He scowled. “A coward’s tactic, but effective in his hands.”

“Fine,” Rogers said. “We’ll assume he’s up to something. But until we know what, try not to provoke him, all right? Whatever his reasons for working with Thanos, it’d be a big help to get him on our side.”

Thor sighed. “Would that we could, but I fear his madness has consumed him.”

“We’ll see,” Rogers said, and fell silent once more.

After what felt like an eternity of walking, scrambling over rubble and ducking for cover when Chitauri patrols passed, holding their breath and hoping they wouldn’t be noticed, they finally reached the palace. The front gates were guarded by a regiment of Chitauri, but Thor had grown up here – or more importantly, grown up here with Loki, who knew the servants’ passages better than anyone – and he took his companions around the side of the palace to a half-hidden entrance in a grove of decorative trees. There were no Chitauri in sight, and they ducked quickly through the door and into the darkened hall beyond.

Safe from Chitauri patrols, at least for a moment, they took a break at Captain Rogers’ orders. Thor chafed at the delay – every second they wasted here was another second Thanos sat on Asgard’s throne – but he could not deny that Barton looked relieved, sitting against the wall and massaging his injured ankle through its splint; nor that Tony, his faceplate up, looked grey and solemn. Neither he nor Doctor Banner showed any of the excitement that had gripped them when they’d first arrived; the sight of Asgard in ruins almost certainly brought with it memories of their own city, devastated by the Chitauri’s attack. And Rogers and Romanoff both had a haunted quality to their expressions, the look of warriors who have seen too many bloody battlefields.

So Thor waited, and paced, and tried to remember the swiftest way from this door to the throne room; and when Rogers finally signaled for them to move out once more, he nearly leapt forward. His friends followed, weapons in hand, footsteps muted by the dust coating the floor.

This passage was little-used; Loki had once told Thor that it had been built millennia ago, during the early days of Bor’s rule, when the city had been laid out differently and the market nearly abutted the castle. Now, with naught but garden for nearly a mile beyond the door, the servants had found other, more convenient paths through the palace grounds. Still, Thor and Sif and the Warriors Three had used it on more than one occasion, when they needed to slip the watch of the palace guards. And Thor still remembered the labyrinthine turns well enough to steer his friends through the palace (like rats in the walls, dishonorable) until he stopped in front of the hidden door that would open into the side of the baldachin at the center of the throne room, near the base of the steps leading up to the golden throne. “Here,” he said quietly. “If my brother’s words are true, Thanos awaits us here.”

Captain Rogers nodded, and turned to the others. “All right,” he said. “We don’t know what exactly is on the other side of that door, so we go in calm, like we own the place. Once we know what we’re looking at I’ll give the signal. Got it?” Nods all around, and Rogers turned back to Thor. “Go.”

Thor tightened his grip on Mjölnir; found the catch on the door and pushed it open, stepping out into the great baldachin.

The first thing he saw was the shining armor of the Einherjar , arrayed in rows along the walls, and it was so strikingly normal that Thor almost faltered, almost dared hope that Loki had lied about the extent of the invasion – but then his gaze found the great golden throne, and where Odin should have been was instead a monster.

Thanos.

He sat casually, the Infinity Gauntlet with its single red stone shining on his hand, looking out over the assembled Aesir with a haughty possessiveness that made Thor’s blood boil. At the edge of the dais, to either side of the throne, stood the generals Tyr and Ullr, at attention as if the despot on the throne between them was the rightful king. Then Thor saw the glitter of blue in their eyes, the mind-controlling magic that had bound Agent Barton and Erik Selvig; saw the same blue in all the ranks of the Einherjar. Loki and his scepter had been busy.

Even as Thor took it all in, Thanos turned to look at him. His too-broad jaw split into a skull’s grin, and when he spoke, his voice was like knives on Thor’s exposed flesh:

Welcome, son of Odin.

—and that was too much, that this monster, this usurper, would dare speak his name, would dare speak the name of the Allfather, to act as though this was his throne to welcome guests. The violence and the rage singing in Thor’s blood boiled over; he roared in fury and charged, through the line of Einherjar, toward the throne—

—a flash of blue and the world turned upside-down; another flash and the golden buttresses flew past his sight; another, and he was spinning helplessly through the air, falling, always falling, nothing to catch hold of, nothing to stop his mad flight—

—hit the ground with enough force to knock the air from his lungs, to leave him dazed and gasping on the floor, Mjölnir tumbling from his grip. Cold slimy fingers grabbed his arms and wrenched them behind his back, and he tried to struggle but he was still disoriented, breathless, and his body didn’t respond as it should. He felt the chill bite of metal around his wrists, locking them in place; the hands moved to his head, pinning his jaw closed, covering his mouth with metal, the clasp tangling painfully in his hair —

—and then, worst of all, metal around his neck, the click of a collar snapping shut, and the choking tug of a leash against his throat as he was dragged across the dais and dumped in a heap beside the golden throne. A robed figure stepped into view, a Chitauri dressed for scholarship rather than battle, though his eyes were bound with cloth: the one who’d chained him, whose dead white hands held the leash. And beside him, the Eliatrope Jahanna, who had apparently survived Barton’s arrow and had come for her vengeance.

Thor struggled to his knees; his shoulders already ached from his arms being twisted so tightly behind him and it was hard to balance, but he could see the rest of the baldachin. Only a few seconds had passed since he’d entered: the Einherjar still stood in their perfect rows, undisturbed by his capture; Tyr and Ullr watched him with cool detachment—

—and the Avengers were trapped at the side of the room where Thor had left them, in a cage of glowing purple power shot through with red. Thanos had come to his feet, his arm extended toward the Avengers, the Infinity Gauntlet glittering ominously on his hand as the power he’d used to create the cage subsided. The blindfolded Chitauri stepped forward, holding out the leash; Thanos took it and his gaze settled on Thor, lips still spread in that death’s-head grin.

Do you like your chains, Odinson? My pet gave them to Me as a gift, and the Other tailored them for you.

Thor tried to speak, to condemn Thanos and his foul lies, but the muzzle shot lances of pain through him and he fell back, teeth clamped tight to keep from gasping and further provoking the muzzle. Distantly he heard a shout from the direction of the cage; his friends were watching. Humiliation burned in him; that he should be seen on his knees, helpless, leashed and muzzled like a misbehaving dog—and with a sick lurch he realized what Thanos had said, what he had meant. It was Loki who had brought these bindings to him – Loki whom Thor had bound with the same chains and paraded through all of Asgard, and while Thor had not used a leash on him it could not have been any less humiliating.

Thanos sat down on the throne once more, and as if he’d heard Thor’s thoughts his hand reached out to casually stroke Thor’s hair. Thor bit back a snarl before the muzzle could rebuke him; forced himself to square his shoulders and endure unflinching. If Loki had survived the shame, then so could he.

The robed Chitauri – the Other, Thanos had named him – bowed to Thanos and sidled back behind the ranks of Einherjar, vanishing into the shadows. Jahanna took up a position at Thanos’s right hand, staring straight ahead as the Aesir were, and Thor noticed suddenly that her dark eyes were sheened with magic too, not the blue glow of Loki’s scepter but the same purple-and-red glow that formed the cage around the Avengers. He couldn’t think what that might mean, for her motives or Thanos’s; wanted to ask Loki about it and cursed himself for wanting, for the reflex that drove him to turn to his brother even now. Although, thinking on it, he hadn’t yet seen Loki, and if Loki had brought them here to see the Avengers captured and Thor humiliated, why wasn’t he here to watch—

Yet even as he thought it, Thor heard the click of boots on stone, and all eyes in the baldachin turned in time to see Loki come striding down the steps into the room. The Tesseract, in the shape of a bird of prey, perched on his shoulder; in his hand he carried his scepter. He held his dark head high, and his expression was one of cool diffidence – though his eyes hesitated for a moment on Thor kneeling and chained at Thanos’s side, and something flickered across his face, there and gone too quickly for Thor to read. He reached the foot of the dais and knelt, servile. “Master,” he said. “I have recovered the Infinity Gems.”

Thanos’s hand stilled on Thor’s head, just for a moment; Thor could practically feel the anticipation vibrating through him.

Good. Let Me see them.

Loki made a swirling gesture with his hands, and five bright stones appeared, floating in a lazy circle over his palm. He held the gems out toward Thanos, and the titan made a gesture of his own with his gauntleted hand. The gems spiraled up through the air, across the dais, and settled neatly into place in the Infinity Gauntlet. Thor couldn’t feel their power through his bindings, but he could see Tyr and Ullr shiver. Thanos, though, was still looking at Loki.

And the Tesseract?

“It is yours, of course, my lord,” Loki said, and there was something in his voice that caught Thor’s attention. Unease, perhaps, or nervousness, but why would Loki be nervous now, when he was victorious…? But the Tesseract flew from Loki’s shoulder to Thanos’s, and then the titan smiled.

You disappoint Me, slave. How will you lead your rebellion now, without these tools of power?

Loki twitched, lifting his head to look at Thanos. “Master, I don’t know what you’re talking about—”

Do not lie to Me, slave! Your Eliatrope has told Me your plans.

The whole room shook with the sound of Thanos’s voice, and Loki flinched, his eyes wide and afraid – genuinely afraid, Thor realized; he knew his brother well enough to recognize it – then his expression smoothed over once more and he tried a smile, bright and innocent. “My lord, I don’t know what she told you, but I serve only you—”

A flash of motion behind Loki and suddenly the Other stood over him, his dead-looking hand reaching for Loki’s throat. “I think,” the Other hissed, “that you have forgotten what it means to serve.”

Thor was watching his brother and so he saw the sudden panic in Loki’s eyes, the tension in his body, the wild fear of an abused animal whose tormentor has reappeared; and he remembered with sick understanding what Captain Rogers had said about Loki: He looks like the ones HYDRA hurt.

The Other leaned in close to Loki’s ear, though the baldachin’s acoustics carried his whisper to all in the room: “We must teach you again.”

His hand clamped down around Loki’s throat, his mouth splitting into a rot-toothed smile.

Loki began to scream.

Chapter Text

Tony gritted his teeth as Loki’s screams echoed through the room. Trapped behind the glowing bars of Thanos’s cage, there was nothing he could do to help him, nothing he could do but listen and watch and pray he found a way to get out. Beside him Bruce was breathing hard; his skin had taken on a greenish tint but he’d somehow managed to keep the Hulk under control – and thank God for that, because the cage was too small to hold someone of the Hulk’s size. The rest of them would be shoved against the glowing bars of power, and they’d found out how dangerous that was when Steve, trying to follow Thor, had run shield-first into the bars as they’d snapped into existence around them. There’d been a flash and a crack and Steve had slammed into Tony; it had been all Tony could do to keep them both from hitting the back wall of the cage.

Another scream, ugly and raw; Tony’s stomach knotted. There had to be something he could do, some way to break out, they hadn’t come all this way just to get trapped in a magic cage and watch Loki be tortured—

“Sir, I suggest you don’t turn, but there is a spacial anomaly behind you.”

Tony jumped at Jarvis’s voice; nearly turned anyway before catching himself. “Show me,” he demanded, and Jarvis switched the HUD to the rear-facing camera. Sure enough, at the back of the cage was a glowing blue circle, its edges spinning lazily.

An Eliatrope portal.

Tony sucked in a breath through his teeth; darted a glance over to where Jahanna still stood, impassive, beside Thanos. Looked again at the HUD, and this time spotted the other end of the portal, just beyond the cage’s bars. “Jarvis,” he breathed. “Cut Thor out of the comm loop, I don’t want him looking over here and giving away the game. Then put me on with everyone else.”

“Go ahead, sir,” Jarvis answered.

“Guys,” Tony said quickly. “Don’t look now, but we’ve got a portal behind us.”

Steve twitched but didn’t turn, though his eyes flicked over to Tony. Natasha suddenly covered her mouth with her hand and turned her back on the room, as if she couldn’t bear to watch Loki’s torture any longer – but the move gave her a clear line of sight to the portal. “I see it,” she murmured.

“Can we trust it?” Steve asked quietly.

Tony glanced up at the dais once more. Jahanna still looked disinterested – but her gaze was straight ahead, not on Loki like everyone else in the room; and then Tony spotted a flicker of red, dark and sinuous, darting low across the floor of the dais toward Thor. “Yeah,” Tony whispered. “Yeah, we can.”

Steve’s mouth thinned. “All right. Let’s go.”

* * *

Thor struggled desperately against his chains, heedless of the collar choking him, heedless of the pain spiking into his wrists and arms. Loki’s screams tore into his heart like swords; his brother was suffering and there was nothing Thor could do to help him. Thanos was still grinning that death’s-head smile, one hand holding the leash around Thor’s neck; he seemed to find it amusing to allow Thor to lunge the full length of the leash only to come up far, far short. Thor wanted to strike him, to pummel him with Mjölnir until he made the Other stop, but his hands were bound too tight behind him, and the magic of the restraints kept him from calling Mjölnir—

—and then within Loki’s screams he heard his own name, and a sudden horror froze him in place.

Loki was screaming for Thor, screaming for their father. Begging them to save him.

Understanding hit him like a physical blow: Loki’s words on Stark Tower about Odin, He’d never save me; Tony’s answer to Thor’s question in the New Mexico lab: Loki doesn’t think I care enough to help him?

Yeah.

Thor wanted to be sick; only the muzzle covering his mouth kept his stomach down. How many times? How many times had Loki screamed for him, only to get no answer, to be abandoned to Thanos’s torment? How long had Loki begged for help and been ignored?

It was no wonder Loki hated him.

He didn’t understand how Odin could have missed this, how Thanos could have hidden Loki’s agony from his all-seeing eye, but that was a question for later, when Loki was safe. Thor redoubled his efforts against the chains, straining, pain lancing through him from the bindings but nothing compared to what Loki suffered—

A whine of electricity, and a bolt of power slammed into the Other, blasting him away from Loki, sending him tumbling into the ranks of Einherjar – and at the same instant, Thor felt the touch of tiny nimble fingers on his back, and all his chains came undone.

He was across the dais and down the steps in a heartbeat, crouching over his brother where he lay curled on the floor, shaking, sobbing. Thor got an arm around Loki’s chest and pulled him half-upright, held him tight against him; Loki’s fingers caught desperately at Thor’s wrist. He could feel his brother’s too-rapid heartbeat pounding beneath his palm, could hear his gasps for breath, the agonized tears in his throat, and wanted again to beat Thanos to a paste—

So, you have slipped your cage.

Thor looked up at the throne. Thanos’s amused grin had vanished, replaced by a narrow-eyed glare; Thor followed his gaze and saw the Avengers, freed from their cage but surrounded by Einherjar holding swords to their throats. Tony had one arm up and pointed toward Thanos; his other arm was still trained on the spot where the Other had stood. Agent Barton had an arrow drawn, but his focus was on the warriors surrounding him, as was Agent Romanoff’s. Where Banner had been was now the Hulk, blunt teeth grinding audibly as he matched Thanos glare for glare.

Rogers held his shield poised to throw, but instead of attacking he called out, “Give it up, Thanos. Hand over the Gauntlet and the Tesseract.”

At his words, Thanos’s amused smile returned. He leaned forward, his voice grating against Thor’s bones and making the mortals shudder:

Why would I do that?

“’Cause if you don’t,” Tony said, “we’ll hand you your ass on a platter.”

You cannot hope to defeat Me.

—and Thanos lifted the Infinity Gauntlet to point at them, the gems beginning to glow with power—

“They can’t—”

A woman’s voice, and even as Thor looked sharply to where Jahanna stood beside the throne, her hand shot out and grabbed the Tesseract-bird on Thanos’s shoulder. A ripple of power and the Tesseract boiled into her hand, up her arm, her fox ears standing bolt upright and lines of blue light flaring in swirling patterns along her skin as she absorbed the cube—

“—but I can.”

A sound like shattering glass, and Jahanna’s head came up, eyes clear and dark for just an instant before being subsumed by the brilliant blue-white light of the Tesseract beneath her skin. Thanos began to rise from the throne, the Infinity Gauntlet swinging around to her; even as it did she gestured and the six gems burst free of the glove and shot toward her, spinning into a halo around her head.

“I am Jahanna,” she snarled, “sister to Tikalukatal, scion of Qilby the Traitor, the living embodiment of the primordial power of Mind.” Her hands came together in front of her and a beam of light lanced out, slamming into Thanos’s chest, blasting him off the throne and all the way across the room to crash into the stairs. “My mind is my own.”

Loki made a soft sound, somewhere between a sob and a laugh, and sagged back against Thor. Thanos lurched to his feet at the top of the stairs, murder in his eyes, teeth bared in a snarl; but a massive portal, rune-edged and spinning, opened behind Jahanna. She met Thanos’s eyes across the baldachin. “Really,” she said, her voice dripping with derision. “What did you think was going to happen?”

And she leaped backward into the portal – but not before gesturing to either side.

A wave of breaking glass along the ranks of the Einherjar, and Thor saw with sudden hope that the blue was fading from their eyes; they shook their heads, dazed – and one by one turned to Thanos, weapons in hand and rage on their faces.

Thor shot to his feet, pulling Loki with him. Across the room, Thanos straightened as well, the Other materializing from the shadows to stand beside him – his posture deliberately mirroring Loki’s, leering through the blindfold. Loki shivered, just slightly; if Thor had not still had an arm around his chest he wouldn’t have known, and he tightened his grip for a moment.

And because he was not quite as dense as everyone seemed to think, he pretended not to notice that Loki leaned into the embrace.

Then Loki was pulling away, standing on his own, his scepter in hand once more and an expression of fierce determination on his face as he stared at the Other. Thor stretched out an arm and called Mjölnir to his hand; glanced at Loki. “Brother,” Thor said softly. “Will you fight beside me?”

Loki didn’t look away from his torturer. “The Other is mine.”

“Of course.” Thor grinned in fierce delight and raised Mjölnir. “Einherjar!” he called. “To me!”

Thanos lifted a hand over his head, mirroring him, and dozens—hundreds—of Chitauri gliders soared into the throne room from the aeries; thousands more, on foot, flooded forward from where they must have been arrayed in the further reaches of the vast hall. They erupted in screeching howls, pumping their weapons in the air and stamping on the stone floor, shaking the walls and rattling the pillars. Thor’s breath caught – with so many Chitauri in the main part of the hall, the four-score Aesir in the baldachin were not only sorely outnumbered, but effectively surrounded, trapped; the gliders would be able to snipe them from overhead like pigs in a pen—

A burst of smoke above them and the dragon Tikalukatal appeared, standing on top of the baldachin’s walls like some kind of living ceiling. He roared, and the gliders that had been swooping toward the open baldachin went tumbling away from the force of the sound. The dragon’s long neck curled and bent, his vast mouth open and glowing with heat; his head came down and a wall of flame shot from his mouth, slamming into Thanos and blasting a wide path through the gathered Chitauri.

Thor swung Mjölnir down to point along the path. “My friends!” he shouted. “We fight for Asgard!”

An answering shout filled the chamber, bounced off the walls and echoed from the rafters of the great hall. The Hulk roared and the dragon roared with him, and Captain Rogers raised his shield with a cry of “Avengers!”—

—and with Loki finally by his side once more, Thor led the Einherjar’s charge into the great hall.

The war had begun.

Chapter Text

Natasha stayed as close to Rogers as the melee would allow. She was a mortal among gods and monsters, and even if – when – she managed to appropriate another Chitauri lance, she would be vulnerable in the chaos. Rogers might be mortal too, technically, but he had the super-soldier serum and the shield. He could hold his own in the fight. At least Clint had already flown off somewhere safe with Stark; she couldn’t see him but arrows rained down into the fight with deadly precision.

A pair of Chitauri charged toward her and she swung her guns around to fire at them – but before she could get a shot off, a massive clawed and red-scaled hand slammed down on top of them, crushing them against the marble floor. Natasha looked up to see the vast bulk of the dragon Tikalukatal looming overhead, one of his blue-pupiled eyes watching her. A voice like grinding stone echoed in her mind, bypassing her ears: “A fight like this is no place for one like you.”

Natasha snorted, sighting down her arm and snapping off a shot at a Chitauri giving Rogers a hard time. “I knew what I was getting into.”

“Tikalukatal has a better use for your talents, if you are willing.”

This could be interesting, she thought. “Sure,” she said out loud. A Chitauri came at her, and she kicked its lance aside, using the momentum to flip herself up onto its shoulders and snap its neck between her knees. The body fell limp, and Natasha landed on her feet, scanning for the next threat. “What do you want me to do?”

“Brace yourself.”

An electric crackle like a high-voltage wire, and Natasha remembered the sound from the fight on the New Mexico base in time to realize what was about to happen. Even as the shimmering blue sphere snapped into existence around her, three more Chitauri lunged toward her. She crouched, braced to attack—

—a sound like an air horn and suddenly she was standing on a small hemisphere of marble in a hallway, somewhere else in the palace to judge from the décor. Bits of Chitauri – an outstretched arm, part of a knee, the tip of a lance, and, disturbingly, most of a face – that had got caught in the teleport sphere splatted to the ground around her. Further down the hall Natasha could see a pair of closed double doors, heavy and gold and gorgeous. But what captured her attention were the thirty or so armed Chitauri warriors who had been arrayed around the doors like a siege force.

And who were all now turning to stare at her.

* * *

Thor could not help a wild laugh as he tore into another battalion of Chitauri, Mjölnir smashing through their armor as if it was parchment. He was in his element, life or death fights all around him, his blood singing. The Hulk barreled past, roaring; on his other side, Captain Rogers caught a blast from a Chitauri lance on his shield, reflecting it into another of the beasts. Overhead Tony’s iron suit shot brilliant balls of energy into the melee, while beyond the open dome of the ceiling, the dragon soared in circles around one of the huge sluglike warbeasts, blasting its hide with fire. And Loki was a dark whirling presence at Thor’s back, his scepter making fast work of his opponents, his graceful footwork carrying him around Thor’s own attacks in the familiar pattern which Thor had not realized how much he’d missed.

Across the room he could see Thanos, apparently unaffected by the dragon’s blast, the Other at his side like a malign shadow. Thanos strode through the combat toward the throne, as unconcerned by the fighters around him as if they were no more than children playing with padded sticks. The one time an Einherjar tried to attack him, he casually pointed a finger, hitting the warrior with a lance of ugly purple light that reduced him to ash in an instant.

Thor ducked beneath another Chitauri blast, flung Mjölnir to smash into the attacker’s face – and through its skull, and through the skulls of the four Chitauri behind it – and took the reprieve to survey the fight. His warriors were holding their own, but barely: for every Einherjar who fell, twenty or more Chitauri fell first. But such numbers were not in the Aesir’s favor. With fewer than a hundred even counting the Avengers – even if one of those hundred was a dragon – they would fall long before they’d destroyed even a quarter of the Chitauri force.

They needed reinforcements, and desperately.

* * *

Natasha’s first thought was that the dragon had wildly overestimated her skill, in thinking she could take on all thirty-odd Chitauri single-handedly. Her second was to realize that the Chitauri had recovered from their surprise and had started to run toward her, and she lifted her guns for a futile defense—

—the double doors they’d been guarding crashed open and a tornado of shining armor and flashing weapons erupted into the middle of the Chitauri, tearing through their ranks. Natasha caught a glimpse of a long black ponytail, a bright red beard, an ostentatious fur coat, and realized in a flash who they had to be. Thor’s friends, the Lady Sif and the Warriors Three, who’d come to find him last year in New Mexico and whose photos were captured in SHIELD’s file on Thor.

Even as she realized this, the woman – Sif – shouted, “This way!”

Natasha dove into the gap they’d made; the four warriors instantly closed ranks around her, and almost before she had time to think they’d fallen back, the double doors slamming shut behind them, locking the Chitauri out in the hallway.

The room beyond was huge and high-ceilinged, ornate to the point of extravagance, with gold-plated walls and a solid ivory floor. The middle of the room was dominated by some sort of enormous… casket? bed? bier? She wasn’t sure, but she could just make out a body lying motionless beneath its shimmering golden dome. At the foot of the domed bed stood a man, impossibly tall, his dark face and golden eyes the only part of him visible beneath his golden armor; beside him a woman, middle-aged and beautiful, whose long hair was crowned with a simple gold circlet. The Lady Sif and the Warriors Three took up a position to the side of the room, bowing their heads respectfully as they passed the armored man and the woman. Natasha looked again, deciding that the crowned woman must be Frigga, Thor's mother, Odin’s wife, and Queen of Asgard. But the gold-armored man couldn’t be Odin; he still had both his eyes, and looked more like a sentinel than a king.

Natasha was aware that both Frigga and the golden man were studying her even as she studied them; then the queen stepped forward. “You must be Thor’s ally from Midgard.”

“My name is Natasha Romanoff,” Natasha answered, and bowed. “Your majesty.”

She didn’t think she’d imagined the flash of respect in Frigga’s eyes, that Natasha had realized who she was. Frigga gestured to the golden man and said, “This is Heimdall, Steward of Asgard. And I believe the Lady Sif and the Warriors Three are known in Midgard?”

Natasha nodded, more occupied with trying to remember what the legends had said about Heimdall. After New Mexico, Norse mythology had become required reading for all SHIELD agents. He was the guardian of the Bifrost, though how that worked now that the Bifrost was broken, she wasn’t sure; and he was said to be able to see anything, anywhere. She inclined her head to him – it never hurt to be more respectful than less – and he returned the gesture, though his gaze seemed to be far away.

Frigga said, “The dragon Tikalukatal told us he would send you, and that you would aid us.”

Natasha nodded, and Frigga continued, “Thanos has imprisoned Asgard’s army – those who survived his invasion – in the dungeons beneath the palace.” She glanced at Heimdall, her mouth tight. “We could not fathom why he did not simply kill them, until he sent the Eliatrope to bend their minds to his will.” This time her eyes flicked, very briefly, toward Sif and the Three. “But those still in the dungeon have not yet been turned. There is a passage, a servants’ path, that will lead you to them, out of the Chitauri’s sight. Take the Lady Sif and her warriors, and free our soldiers to aid my sons.”

Natasha bowed again and turned to Sif and the Warriors Three – and froze. They had raised their heads, and for the first time she could see that their eyes were sheened with the blue of Loki’s mind magic.

“Loki has taken their will,” Heimdall said from behind her. His voice had an unearthly resonance that sent chills along Natasha’s spine, and she turned to see that his eyes still had that faraway look. “But he commanded them to obey me in his stead.”

“We should break it,” Natasha said. She thought about Clint, about how the spell had affected him, and her stomach twisted. “If you hit them in the head—”

“We’ve already tried,” Frigga interrupted, but gently; there was pain in her voice, and sorrow. “My son has always been one to learn from his mistakes.”

“They will do as you direct,” Heimdall said. “And when the army is free, they will lead them into battle.”

Natasha pressed her lips together. She hated the idea of leaving them enthralled, but if Frigga and Heimdall had already tried cognitive recalibration, there wasn’t much else they could do – they didn’t have time for experimentation. “All right,” she said finally, reluctantly.

Heimdall looked at her then, the weight of his gaze a physical sensation as he turned his full sight on her. “It pains you to see them thus,” he said, “but know that had Loki not done this, they would be dead.”

She thought again about Clint, about what had happened in the underground bunker, and how he’d only lived because a madman’s whim had deemed him useful. And she thought about the haunted look in Clint’s eyes, the way he couldn’t sleep anymore. “There are worse things than death,” she said quietly.

“Yes,” Heimdall agreed, just as softly.

Frigga looked between them; there was a hardness to her expression and Natasha remembered that she’d called Loki my son. She pushed Clint and mind control to the back of her thoughts, and turned to Sif and the Three. “Ready?”

“Yes, my lady,” Sif answered, and behind her, the blond warrior – Fandral, if Natasha had her names straight – grinned and added, “Very.”

“Go swiftly,” Heimdall said. “Your friends fight valiantly, but they cannot hold forever.”

Natasha bowed to him and Frigga, and the four warriors bowed as well. Frigga gestured to the side; a servant materialized from behind a pillar – and Natasha couldn’t help but be impressed; she hadn’t even noticed him there – and touched a spot on the wall. The gold paneling shimmered and vanished, revealing a dark, narrow hallway. Natasha took a breath, steeling herself, then, with the Lady Sif and the Warriors Three close on her heels, slipped into the passage to the dungeon.

* * *

“Thor!”

Thor spun around at the shout; saw Captain Rogers ducking under a Chitauri lance. The captain swatted the lance aside, bashed the Chitauri warrior with his shield, and called, “We need to retreat!”

“If we return to the baldachin we’ll be trapped!” Thor shouted back. He knew Rogers had seen the same thing he had; they were so badly outnumbered it was painful to consider. But the path cleared by Tikalukatal’s blast of flame had long since closed again; thousands of Chitauri swarmed the throne room, blocking the way. The Einherjar had fallen into a rapidly shrinking circle, surrounded on all sides by the enemy, and with Tony and the dragon both too busy with the gliders and the warbeasts to come to their aid, they were pinned.

Rogers glanced around the room, then pointed. “That way!”

Thor followed his finger: he’d indicated one of the side doors, which led deeper into the palace. It wasn’t much further than the baldachin, and if they reached it they could create a bottleneck long enough to get to more defensive ground.

“Brother—” he began.

But Loki was already at his side, scepter swirling out of existence between his palms; and he raised his now-empty hands. “Go.”

“Einherjar!” Thor shouted over the din. “With me! To the west!”

A ragged shout went up from those who remained, and the warriors shifted formation with the practice of centuries. The circle became a wedge pointed for the exit, with Thor and Loki at its tip. The Chitauri were not so stupid as to not realize what they were doing; they ran to block the path, howling in anticipation of victory.

Loki closed his eyes and whispered under his breath.

A deafening roar filled the throne room, and the Chitauri facing them fell back in sudden panic as a dragon, vast and red with flames in its maw, swooped toward them from above the Einherjar. Thor could not help but admire his brother’s skill; he could see Tikalukatal in the distance, far behind and above the now-cowering Chitauri, and he was still half-convinced of the illusion’s reality.

But there would be time for congratulations later. The Chitauri’s blockade was in disarray and Thor led the Einherjar forward with a shout, only barely remembering to grab Loki by the arm and drag him along. Loki opened his eyes again in time for Thor to let him go and swing Mjölnir into the first row of Chitauri, smashing a hole in their formation. The Einherjar flooded through in his wake, their wedge driving through the Chitauri like a blade toward the western door. At Thor’s right hand Rogers fought as well as any Aesir; at his left Loki tore into the Chitauri with his scepter. A guttural roar announced the presence of the Hulk moments before the beast came flying past, bowling through the Chitauri and clearing an opening in front of the door.

Thor lunged forward, catching the door’s broad iron rings and hauling; raised a hand to wave his companions through—

—and froze, for on the other side of the door stood row upon row of Chitauri, their lances charged and pointed directly at Thor.

Chapter Text

Thor was slamming the door closed almost before he realized what he’d seen; even then he was too slow, and a barrage of Chitauri lance-blasts pounded the door and blasted through the opening. Captain Rogers caught much of the assault on his shield, sending the bolts ricocheting into the Chitauri who surrounded them. Thor shoved at the door, trying to push it all the way shut, but the wave of Chitauri on the other side pushed back, and Thor skidded and almost fell before the Hulk’s huge green shoulder rammed against the door beside him.

The door crashed closed and Loki whirled from where he’d been fighting off a trio of Chitauri, his hand coming up to point at the door. He shouted a few words in the ancient tongue and a crack-hiss of gold magic sparked around the edges of the frame. The whole wall rattled from the the force of the Chitauri on the other side trying to bash through – but the door held.

“What did you do?” Thor demanded. Another Chitauri lunged for Loki’s unguarded back and he swatted it away with Mjölnir.

Loki rolled his eyes. “Did you pay attention to any of our lessons on the history of the palace?”

“History lessons later,” Captain Rogers interrupted testily. “We need to find a way out of here, we’re sitting ducks.”

As if to illustrate his point, there was a whine of charging lances and yet another barrage of energy rained down on them from behind. Rogers lifted his shield, catching the worst of it, and Thor shoved Loki behind him so he could slap aside the bolts that got through. Somewhere nearby an Aesir warrior cried out and Loki darted away to help, but the Chitauri were already pressing the gap in their defenses.

Thor traded a grim look with Rogers. They were trapped here, and the Chitauri were about to overwhelm them.

* * *

Clint leaned over the edge of a decorative railing, taking a long moment to find the best target in the mass of Chitauri pinning the Aesir against the far wall of the throne room. A Chitauri with an unusual helmet-facemask-thing lifted a hand, turning to look at the ranks behind him, and Clint sighted on the vulnerable spot beneath its upraised arm. His bow sang and an arrow sank into the creature’s flesh. He couldn’t hear its dying howl from way up here, but he could see its death throes as it fell.

Good.

He reached back for another arrow, brushing his fingers over the top of his quiver. Only two left, and then he’d be useless. He’d stocked up on arrows before they’d left Earth, but he could only carry so many before they started to hamper his movement. It was the danger of being a sniper in open warfare, and the reason he much preferred hunting single targets. At least he was safe enough up here: the layers of open ceiling and balcony and bizarre showy Asgard architecture meant that he could stay out of sight of the gliders without sacrificing his own view into the throne room.

Green and black flashed at the corner of his vision, and his fingers twitched reflexively on the arrow as he nocked it. The urge to put an arrow through Loki’s eye was almost overwhelming; the only thing that held him back was knowing that if Loki went down, Thor would go berserk – and they couldn’t afford that, not now, not when they were barely staying alive as it was. Bitter hatred sang in his chest, fury that Loki had turned to their side (maybe), that Clint wouldn’t be allowed to take the revenge he deserved. His hand shook and he eased the pressure on the bowstring before he sent the arrow wild. He couldn’t afford to waste ammunition. He wouldn’t let Loki make him more useless than he already had.

When his hand was steady he drew again, sighting down into the melee, and he released the arrow to take another of the probably-leader Chitauri through the neck. He lowered his bow, and was reaching for his quiver when the whine of a glider caught his ear. He drew and aimed in one motion, almost fired before he realized that the glider was piloted not by a Chitauri, but a tall blonde Aesir. Clint remembered him standing beside Thanos’s throne, his eyes blue-sheened; one of Asgard’s warleaders, then, although he had no idea what the guy’s title might be.

“Archer,” the man called out. “I am Ullr, who commands Asgard’s ranged forces. I would use you, if you are willing.”

Clint shrugged. “Sure,” he said, and gestured over his shoulder at his empty quiver. “But unless you’ve got more arrows I can use, I won’t be much help.”

“Midgardians,” Ullr said, and shook his head, his expression faintly amused. He bent to retrieve something at his feet and tossed it across the gap.

Clint caught it: an ornate quiver, edged with gold, holding three golden arrows. He looked up at Ullr. “Uh. It’s a start?”

Ullr laughed, although there was a shade of darkness to it. “It will not run out,” he said. “Will you come?”

Clint looked back at the quiver, eyebrows raising. He was never going to get used to this magic shit. But he wasn’t about to look a gift horse – or quiver – in the mouth. “Sure.” He slung the quiver over his shoulder and climbed onto the railing, ignoring the sharp pain in his ankle. Ullr guided the glider closer (and Clint tried not to look too hard at what he was doing to the Chitauri embedded in the steering column to get it to move), and he jumped aboard.

The thing swayed with his weight and he grabbed Ullr’s shoulder to steady himself. Ullr got it back under control and took off, swooping down toward where Thor and the others were pinned against the wall. He didn’t have to say anything; Clint could see what he wanted, and he drew and fired over and over again, not really aiming, not needing to in the tight press of Chitauri. His arrows were a distraction, a disruption, and the Chitauri screeched in pain and fear, their ranks turning to chaos.

The trapped Asgardians rallied, taking advantage of their enemies’ panic to clear themselves a little breathing room. Thor stepped into the open space, hammer lifted high over his head, and the hair on Clint’s arms stood straight up. Ullr called over his shoulder to Clint, “Hold on!” and even as Clint grabbed Ullr’s shoulder the glider banked hard to the side. A moment later thunder cracked and a bolt of lightning blasted down through the open ceiling, slamming into the Chitauri. Clint let go of Ullr to resume shooting, focusing this time on the Chitauri at the edges of the blast, driving them further back.

“How many more of them are there?” he shouted to Ullr.

“Too many,” Ullr answered grimly, and nodded toward the main entrance to the throne room.

Clint looked – and his stomach sank. More Chitauri poured through the entrance, swarming over the bodies of their companions, filling in the gaps left by the fallen. It was like watching ants whose hill had been kicked – you could stomp all you wanted, but more would just keep on coming until you were overrun. Still, he wasn’t going to give up. Couldn’t give up, not yet.

“Take me over there,” he said to Ullr. “We’ll bottleneck ‘em, slow ‘em down.” Ullr grinned darkly and pointed the glider at the entrance. Clint reached for another arrow, nocking it and sighting down the shaft. Maybe they’d die here – almost certainly die here, without a miracle or three – but by God he was taking as many Chitauri down with him as he could.

* * *

Hogun took the lead in the servants’ hallway, a silent ghost in black armor. Natasha followed, Sif beside her, Fandral and Volstagg at their heels. Somehow, she’d been expecting Thor’s friends to be more like him: boisterous, flashy, dramatic, like the New Mexico report had described them. But none of them spoke, and Natasha remembered how quiet Clint had been, under Loki’s control. And she wondered what would happen when this was all over, and Thor found out what his brother had done to his friends.

She had to remind herself, more than once, that there was nothing they could do about it. If Frigga, the Queen of Asgard and a powerful goddess in her own right, couldn’t break the enchantment, then a mortal ex-Russian spy wasn’t going to have any better luck. Sif and the Three were at least helping them, and Natasha had to admire just how far-reaching Loki’s plan had been.

“Here,” Hogun said softly, interrupting her thoughts; Natasha looked up to see that they’d come up on an innocuous door. Hogun stepped to the side, pointing at a tiny peephole in the wall, and Natasha moved closer to take a look.

The servants’ door opened into a broad hallway, with an open guard room at one end and, barely visible from the tiny peephole, cell doors down the other. Half a dozen Chitauri stood guard, muttering to each other restlessly. She wasn’t sure how intelligent the creatures were, but she got the impression this group was annoyed at being stuck here guarding prisoners instead of joining the battle in the throne room.

Well, if they wanted to fight…

Natasha whispered her findings to Sif and the Three; they nodded, readying their weapons, and Natasha made sure her own guns were fully loaded. She stood by the door, ready to slide it open, and held up a hand, fingers counting down. On zero, she slid aside the panel and the Aesir charged through, howling war cries.

The Chitauri didn’t stand a chance – Natasha, last out the door, didn’t even have to fire a shot. She lowered her weapons and glanced up and down the hallway. Barred cell doors lined the far end, and she could see faces pressing against the narrow openings, trying to see what was going on. She motioned to Sif, who strode down the hall. “Soldiers of Asgard!” Sif shouted. “Your freedom is at hand! War rages above for our realm, and your prince fights for you!”

A cheer went up from the cells, loud enough to rattle the bars. Leaving Sif to pump up the soldiers, Natasha turned to Fandral and Volstagg. “Find weapons,” she ordered. “Armor. Whatever they’ll need and can pick up in a hurry.”

“My lady,” they answered in unison, and snapped off quick bows before trotting off through the guard room and out a door on the far side. To Hogun, Natasha said, “Is there a way to open all the cells at once?”

Hogun nodded and led her into the guard room, where he pointed at a lever set into one of the side walls. A matching lever was set into the opposite wall, far enough apart that two people would be required to open all the cells – a sensible precaution. Also sensible, but more problematic, were the locks embedded in the wall beneath each lever.

She suspected she already knew the answer, but, “Where are the keys?” she asked Hogun.

He shook his head. “The guard captain would have had them. I don’t know where they would be now.”

“Fine.” Natasha dug into one of the pouches at her belt. Hopefully her lockpicks – meant for much more delicate work than the heavy Asgardian locks – would be up to the job.

Volstagg and Fandral returned while she worked; she listened with half an ear as they told Hogun about piles of weapons and armor in the hall beyond the prison, probably abandoned there after they’d been stripped from the Aesir soldiers. Careful not to drop the tumblers she’d already caught, Natasha said over her shoulder, “Tell Sif to get them ready. We don’t have much time.” Hogun nodded and started back into the cell blocks.

The last tumbler caught and the lock clicked, the lever shifting slightly as it was released. Natasha pulled her tools free and headed to the other side of the room. Now that she knew how the locks worked, the second went more quickly, and soon she had it open too. She grabbed the lever and Fandral grabbed the other, and she said, “Now.”

The lever was hard to move, and for a bad second she almost thought she wouldn’t be able to pull it, that it hadn’t been made for mortals – but she threw her whole weight on it and it groaned into motion. Another cheer, even louder than the first, interrupted Sif’s speech and nearly drowned out the rattling and clanking of the cells crashing open. Natasha stepped back against the wall as hundreds of Asgardians came running past her, Sif in the lead. The soldiers were haggard, unshaven and filthy – but they were also furious. Natasha just needed to turn that fury on the Chitauri in the throne room.

And pray they got there in time.

* * *

A Chitauri lance slipped past Thor’s defenses and sliced a bloody gash along his arm. He roared, Mjölnir coming around to smash the creature’s skull – but its companions seemed drawn to the line of blood, unnatural maws howling with glee. Thor lashed out, but there were too many of them, he was surrounded—

—tried to call lightning, but another Chitauri leaped on his arm, dragging it down, and he fell to one knee under its weight—

—silver knives like stars blossomed in its eyes, its throat, and then Loki was there, hauling Thor up by the arm, his other hand holding out his scepter, and he fired a blast of energy into the middle of the Chitauri.

“Thanks,” Thor panted.

“You’re—” and Loki threw himself to the side, rolling to avoid the Chitauri’s return fire, and suddenly there were half a dozen of him, all swinging their scepters at the beasts, and they finished in unison, “—welcome.”

Captain Rogers slammed into Thor’s back, shield raised to catch a slashing lance, and gasped out, “They’ve got the Hulk pinned down, we need to get him—”

“I got him,” Tony’s voice came over Thor’s earpiece. “Watch your nine.”

Back to back, Thor and Rogers looked in opposite directions – but it didn’t really matter; there were Chitauri on both sides. Most of Loki’s illusions were gone, and Loki himself appeared suddenly, staggering, when a lance blast exploded at his feet. Thor caught him, steadied him, but the Chitauri were already pressing at them again, and another lance scored a line along Loki’s cheek.

Thor had no idea where the rest of the Aesir force was; if they’d fallen, or had merely disappeared into the flood of Chitauri, but either way, he and Rogers and Loki were alone. Thor could escape with Mjölnir, but he couldn't carry both of them, and even as he thought it Rogers shouted at him, “Thor! Go! Get out of here!”

“Never!” Thor shouted back.

“Damn it, Thor!” Loki snapped. “Leave now or so help me I will—”

A crash echoed through the room.

Thor’s heart sank even as he spun to see. The lesser doors on the other side of the chamber, twins to those at their backs, had flown open, and more Chitauri ran into the throne room, screeching—

No, he thought in horror. We can’t, there’s too many already—

—and then he realized the Chitauri weren’t charging, they were fleeing, and their shouts weren’t battle cries, but screams of terror.

From behind them came a chant, an Aesir war song, warriors’ deep voices echoing through the throne room, sunlight flashing on gold armor and silver swords.

The Aesir army had arrived.

Chapter Text

Thor whooped with joy as the Aesir soldiers charged into the throne room, driving the Chitauri before them like frightened sheep. The surviving warriors from the baldachin cheered too, and the press of bodies in the throne room roiled suddenly as the warriors pushed to trap the Chitauri between the two lines of Aesir. Then over the howls and the clashing of metal Thor heard a familiar voice shouting commands, and his heart skipped a beat. He grabbed Loki’s shoulder for balance and stood on his toes, looking over the melee—

Sif.

An enormous weight lifted from his heart and he almost felt he was floating, so great was his relief. She wasn’t dead. She wasn’t dead, and near her he could see Volstagg, Hogun, Fandral – all alive, all safe. Never had he been so relieved to discover his brother had lied to him. He thumped Loki on the back, ignoring his startled yelp, then pushed him far enough away to call a bolt of lightning into the Chitauri between him and his friends. The blast opened enough of a path for him to charge to Sif’s side, joining her in wreaking havoc on a group of Chitauri lancers.

“Sif!” he shouted. “My friends! It is so good to see you!”

But Fandral and Volstagg didn’t even look at him. Hogun shot him a brief glance, then went back to crushing Chitauri skulls. And Sif said only, “Thor,” and her voice was cold enough to chill.

Thor stopped fighting, Mjölnir falling to his side as he stared at her. “Sif?” he said. “Sif, what—” Then he saw the blue sheen to her eyes, and the bottom fell out from his stomach.

Loki had mind-controlled Sif and the Warriors Three.

Thor had watched Agent Barton enough over the last few days to realize with painful clarity what that meant – what agony his shield companions must be suffering now. He spun around, searching the room for Loki, but though he could see a pair of gold-rimmed doubles harassing a few Chitauri, there was no sign of Loki himself. “Loki!” he yelled. But his brother didn’t answer.

He knew he had to break them out of it; knew, too, that he hadn’t the slightest idea how. He’d never asked how Barton had been freed. And the middle of battle was no place to experiment. No, he would need to find Loki and make him release them—

A Chitauri slashed at Thor with its lance and he snapped back to the fight at hand, swinging Mjölnir hard enough to break the lance in two. Trapped under Loki’s mind control, his friends ignored him, focused on their own battles. Thor reluctantly left them to it, and struck out across the chamber to find his brother.

* * *

With the arrival of the Asgardian soldiers, Clint was able to focus less on saving the Avengers’ asses and more on controlling the field. One shot and he opened a gap in a Chitauri line for the Asgardians to press; another shot and a glider that had been lining up to flank the Hulk went spinning out of control, crashing into a pillar and plummeting to the ground.

“Nice shot, Merida!” Stark said over the comm, and Clint grinned.

“Bring a few more down here,” he said into his mic. “Line ‘em up for me.”

“Yep, gimme a sec,” Stark answered.

Ullr glanced over his shoulder at him. “To whom do you speak?”

Clint pointed up past the open ceiling to where Stark was drawing a truly impressive tail of gliders. “He’s going to reel ‘em in,” he said.

Ullr nodded and banked the glider sharply to the side, curving to meet Stark as he shot through the layers of balconies toward them. Clint aimed and fired, one-two-three-four, then they were looping back and around and three more shots took out the rest of the gliders. Stark flashed them a thumbs-up as he blasted back up out of the throne room, and Ullr raised an arm in a salute.

“A metal man,” he said thoughtfully, and shook his head, that amused smile dancing on his lips. “Midgardians.”

“Guess you haven’t—” Clint drew and released, the arrow lodging in the eye socket of a Chitauri aiming a lance at Captain Rogers’ back— “visited Earth lately, huh?”

“Not in many hundreds of years,” Ullr said.

“You should try it sometime,” Clint said. He nocked another arrow, sighting on the exposed neck of a Chitauri guarding a formation’s flank. “We’ve made a few improvements since the—”

Something hit him with the force of a freight train and the world turned upside down, spinning—

—he lost the arrow but kept a grip on the bow, even as he realized the glider had been hit, glimpsed it spinning wildly above him—

—he was falling, tumbling through the air, and he saw the marble floor rushing up to meet him—

—a sharp impact against his chest and he was flying sideways instead, someone’s arms wrapped around him from behind, and they landed hard on the ground, rolling, the arms falling away—

Clint skidded to a stop and lay still for a moment, gasping to regain the wind that had been knocked out of him, old bruises and new throbbing with pain. But there were still Chitauri around and he couldn’t stay down for long; he pushed himself up to his elbows—

—just in time to see Loki sit up slowly from where he’d landed.

Clint froze, sick horror roiling through him. Before he could turn away Loki looked up and met his gaze, his eerie green eyes inscrutable. Clint tried to break the stare, tried to look away (pinned like a bug and he can’t move, just like the first time they’d met, when Loki took his mind). Then Loki licked his lips and turned his head, his attention caught by an approaching Chitauri, and suddenly Clint could move again. He doubled over, retching; managed to get himself back under control and up to his feet.

Loki was already gone, no more than a green-and-black flicker in the melee, and Clint dragged in a deep breath. Forced back the childish wish that Tasha was there, reached for an arrow and killed an approaching Chitauri. Said into his comm, “Stark. Can you get me back up high?”

“Be right there,” Stark answered.

Clint turned to watch the metal suit approach, and tried not to think that Loki had just saved his life.

Again.

* * *

Thor had seen Agent Barton fall, had been about to leap for him when Loki appeared from nowhere to catch him. He would have words with his brother about Barton later, but at the moment Loki was visible, and Thor shoved through the fight to his side. “Loki—” he began.

“Not now,” Loki said. He ducked a spear, not quite meeting Thor’s eyes.

Thor knocked away the offending Chitauri. “Loki—”

“Later,” Loki snapped.

“They’re our friends, Loki!” Thor shouted. “Would you—”

“Your friends,” Loki interrupted, and the bitter madness was back in his voice, in his eyes, sudden and terrifying. “Not mine.” He slashed a Chitauri’s throat with an ugly viciousness. “Never mine.”

Thor growled in frustration – how could he hope to reason with his brother when Loki was like this? “You still must free them, they’re—”

“There. Isn’t. Time!” Loki snarled.

“He’s right,” a new voice said, and Thor spun to see Captain Rogers come up to them. He had blood on his face from a cut at his temple, and his shield was charred from catching energy blasts. “It took Barton quite a while to recover on the Helicarrier,” he said. “We can’t afford to bench your friends for that long.”

Thor drew breath to protest, but Rogers caught his eyes, steel in his glare; Thor gritted his teeth and swallowed back his words. He knew that look, knew that he would not be able to change the captain’s mind. And with Rogers backing him up, Loki would never give in.

Rogers watched him for a moment longer, making sure his point was understood, then turned to Loki. “Why isn’t Thanos attacking?” he asked. “He was killing our boys like ants earlier.”

Loki looked over at the baldachin, and Thor followed his gaze. Thanos sprawled once more on the golden throne of Asgard, watching the fight with his teeth bared in a delighted grin. The baldachin itself was empty of combatants; Thor remembered seeing Thanos turn to ash any who’d stepped inside, Aesir and Chitauri alike. The Other stood at Thanos’s right hand, silent, patient – and looking directly at Loki.

Loki made a noise low in his throat, his fingers tightening on his scepter. Rogers said sharply, “Loki.”

He shuddered, but said, “He has no reason to fight.”

“No reason?” Thor echoed, incredulous. “His army flees before us!”

“Yes,” Loki said, “and they lead our soldiers out to where still more Chitauri roam the streets of Asgard. Thanos cares not how many Chitauri fall, nor how many Aesir. He would send his entire army to their deaths and then kill those of us who remained when the fighting is over.”

“Why?” Rogers demanded. “What does he want?”

Loki’s eyes slid to Rogers and he smiled, all bright teeth and cold madness. “What does he want?” he repeated softly. “He wants Death, my good captain.”

“If he wants death,” Thor growled, and hefted Mjölnir, “then I will give him what he seeks.”

“No,” Loki said, and laughed, the edge of madness twisting the sound into something terrible. “He wants to woo Death. Every Aesir, every Chitauri who dies here is a part of his bride-price for her.”

Rogers blinked. “That’s… frightening,” he said. “So how do we stop him? If wiping out his army won’t do it—”

Loki shifted his grip on his scepter, and beneath the awful madness his eyes took on the mischievous glint Thor knew all too well. “Don’t worry,” he said softly. “I’ll take care of him.”

Thor grabbed Loki by the arm. “Brother, wait—”

Green eyes met his, brittle and bright and cold as the void. “This is my fight,” Loki hissed. “I’ve earned it, Thor, I paid for it with my blood. Would you take this from me, too?”

The words he’d been about to say locked in Thor’s throat, and his hand fell from Loki’s sleeve. You destroy everything I desire; and he remembered the terrible pain in Loki’s eyes when Jahanna had fallen. “No,” he whispered. “My brother.”

For a moment it seemed as if Loki would speak, would release the madness and once again be Thor’s younger brother—but then he stepped back, and the chasm between them yawned wide once more. His shoulders straightened and he raised his head high, and he flashed them a too-sharp smile. “Wish me luck.”

And he strode away to face the Mad Titan.

Chapter Text

Thor watched Loki stride across the throne room, lazy and long-legged as if he owned the place. He was confident, regal, kingly in a way Thor had always envied; Thor himself had never been able to pull off such a walk without strutting. But Loki looked like he’d been born to it.

Had been born to it, if by a Jotun rather than an Aesir.

The Other met him at the top of the steps, a staff like a more ornate Chitauri lance in his hand. Loki’s scepter flared with power as they crossed weapons, and the Other’s mouth split into a cruel grin.

Thor clenched his fists. He wanted nothing more than to throw himself between them, to shield Loki from the twisted creature who had so badly broken him. But Loki was right: this was his fight, not Thor’s; if Thor interfered it would forever mar Loki’s victory.

The talking device in Thor’s ear crackled, making him jump, and Tony’s voice came over the static: “Hold on, wait a sec. Guys. Did you just let the traumatized torture survivor go after the necrophile titan all by himself?”

“Yes,” Thor said, and his grip creaked on Mjölnir. Tony’s words were almost enough to send Thor charging across the throne room; only the broken pain of Loki’s I’ve earned it was enough to stop him. He said into the comm, “This is Loki’s fight. Do not interfere.”

“Look, I get that this is some weird Norse god honor thing,” Tony said, “but seriously. Shouldn’t we hit Thanos with everything we’ve got?”

“Do not interfere,” Thor growled, and glared up at Tony where he hovered near the center of the throne room, his metal mask turned toward the baldachin.

“Let it go, Stark,” Rogers said. “But Thor, if it looks like Loki’s about to go down, we’re jumping in. Honor is important, but not if it costs us the war.”

Thor growled again, but nodded. It wouldn’t matter, because Loki wouldn’t fall. Thor trusted him, trusted that mischievous grin, and had no doubt that Thanos would not survive the fight.

Rogers turned toward the main entrance to the throne room, where the Aesir soldiers were forcing the last of the Chitauri army out into the palace grounds. “Loki said there were more Chitauri in the city,” he said. “We need to get out there, see what the situation is. Stark, can you give me a lift?”

“What am I, a taxi?” Stark grumbled, but flew down to grasp the Captain’s upraised arm. Thor shot one last look to where Loki and the Other were locked in combat, but Loki had a terrible mad grin on his face, and Thor’s new friends needed him more. He spun Mjölnir on its strap and launched himself up through the open ceiling on Tony and Rogers’ heels.

“If the Chitauri have reinforcements,” he said into his talking device as he rose, “why have they not yet arrived? We had no soldiers guarding the gates. They have a clear path—”

—and then he rose above the last of the high walls, enough to see what was happening on the palace grounds.

They did have someone guarding the gates.

The dragon Tikalukatal, in the shape of a red-skinned man gliding on broad leathery wings, darted like a hunting hawk around the golden gates. Even as Thor watched, Tikalukatal pulled up to a sudden stop, head drawing back and chest swelling as he drew in breath. The Chitauri on the promenade, trapped by the gates to either side and their companions behind, howled in fear, lances firing wildly at him—but the blasts splashed harmlessly against a shield of blue power that surrounded him. Tikalukatal breathed out, and if the column of flame was smaller than it had been when he was in his dragon form, it was no less powerful, incinerating the Chitauri in its path and charring those at its edges.

More lance-blasts arced toward him and he gestured, the blue shield shimmering once more into existence; then he held out both hands, palms up. Enormous balls of flame roared to life over his palms and he flung them into the press of Chitauri. Then he folded his wings and dove, straight down into the mob, grabbing a Chitauri in each hand and using them as clubs to smash a path through the mob and back into the air.

“Whoa,” Captain Rogers said over the comm.

“Aren’t we glad he’s on our side this time?” Tony said.

“Aye,” Thor agreed. But he could see new waves of Chitauri, one coming up from the city behind those already at the gates, the other made up of those chased from the palace by the Aesir, who were turning their retreat into a charge against the dragon. He said, “Shall we join him, my friends? We can’t let him have all the fun!”

“You have a weird idea of fun,” Agent Barton’s voice came through the comm. “And there’s a bunch more of those flying whales coming in from your twelve.”

Thor lifted his head to look. Barton was right: more than a dozen warbeasts glided with deceptive languor through the air, coming toward the palace from the direction of the starfall beyond the Bifrost.

“What the hell?” Tony said. “Where’d they come from?”

“Good question,” Captain Rogers said. “Barton, any—”

Something glittered at the edge of the starfall, something huge and dark and sharp-spined that rose up above the edge of the realm like a leviathan, its shadow sending a chill over the palace grounds.

“Fuck,” Tony breathed.

“What is it?” Rogers demanded. “What the hell is that thing?!”

Thor’s breath locked in his chest. “It’s a warship,” he whispered. “A Chitauri warship.”

* * *

Natasha leaned around a pillar, trying for a better angle on the baldachin and cursing Asgardian architecture under her breath. She’d stayed behind after the rush out onto the palace grounds to keep an eye on Thanos, the Other, and Loki. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust Loki – not that she did trust him – but she was far more worried about what Thanos might do, now that he was mostly alone and unwatched.

She could see Loki and the Other at the top of the stairs leading down into the baldachin, a whirling riot of cloaks and staves and magic. Loki fought like a wild animal, with little of the grace she remembered from watching him on Midgard. He was cackling, desperate mad fury in his laughter; and beneath it she could hear the too-sibilant hiss of the Other’s voice, though she couldn’t make out what he was saying. Whatever it was, it was enough: Loki froze, his eyes widening in sudden panic; the Other’s staff lashed out and cracked him hard across the chin, and Loki went flying with a cry of pain.

* * *

The Chitauri ship rose into the sky, and as it did vast doors opened in the bottom of each of its four arms, spewing out warbeasts like maggots. Even at this distance Thor could see the restless motion of Chitauri soldiers along the warbeasts’ flanks, and still more gliders swarmed around them like noxious flies. Mjölnir faltered as he stared in horror; he caught himself and set the hammer to spinning again, but he could not so easily shake the dread in his soul. Thanos had played them beautifully. The whole thing had been a trap, a setup to lure the Aesir and their allies into all-out war before they could realize the overwhelming odds against them.

If every life lost was a coin in the bride-price of Death, she would be well-paid indeed.

“Oh boy,” Tony muttered.

“We need to take it down,” Rogers said.

“No shit,” Tony said. “But we’re gonna need some help. Someone wanna tell the dragon?”

A voice in Thor’s mind, bypassing the talking device and his ears alike: “There is no need. Tikalukatal is aware of the hiveship, and of its companions.”

“You are?” Tony demanded, but Captain Rogers overrode him: “Its companions?!”

The dragon soared up through the air to join them where they hovered high over the palace. The Aesir army had chased the last of the retreating Chitauri to the gates; he was no longer needed there. His gaze fixed on the distant ship, he said, “There are four in total. Tikalukatal suspects the rest will appear shortly.”

As if summoned by his words, three more of the hiveships rose into view, their spined arms an ominous black forest, vast and monstrous and stretching across the horizon from end to end.

“Four,” Tony said in disbelief. “There’s four of them.”

“Then we will destroy four,” Thor said, and made his voice firm, strong. He was Aesir, a prince, a son of Odin. He would not falter, even in the face of such terrible odds.

Tikalukatal glanced at him, his glowing blue eyes unreadable. Thor met his stare for a moment, then pointedly looked at Rogers. “Captain,” he prompted.

“Right,” Rogers said, and his jaw set. He nodded once to Thor – appreciation, that Thor would step aside in his own realm to allow him to take the lead – then said to Tony, “Drop me down there. I’ll keep the ground forces organized. Then find Barton and run control on those gliders. Thor, see what you can do about that ship.” He turned to the dragon next, his tone shifting from commanding to respectful. “If you’d help Thor, I’d appreciate it.”

Tikalukatal nodded; his broad red-and-black wings beat hard, launching him toward the hiveship. Thor flung Mjölnir to follow him, summoning stormclouds as he flew. He could see motion in the streets below, fighting, and for a moment he was baffled – the freed Aesir soldiers had not made it this far into the city yet. Then he looked more closely, and realized that it was not soldiers, but Asgardian common folk: merchants, farmers, artists, their wives and their daughters, rising up from where they must have hidden in the ruins of their homes to attack their oppressors from behind.

Even as he saw them, his people saw him, fingers lifting to point to the sky, and a cheer rose from the streets. Thor roared an answer, calling lightning to dance along the clouds and sending a burst of thunder to rattle the buildings. “Asgard!” he shouted. “Your liberation is at hand! Today we fight!”

Another cheer, and the people turned back to slaughtering Chitauri with a new vigor. Thor grinned and turned back toward the Bifrost and the Chitauri ships hovering beyond it. The air was heavy and power danced along his skin, and despite everything, he took a moment to revel in it.

He would show Thanos and the Chitauri what it meant to attack his realm.

* * *

Natasha’s hands twitched on her guns but before she could move, Loki flipped in midair, righting himself and lunging back toward the Other, animal fear in his eyes and rage in his body. Natasha breathed a sigh of relief. She might not trust Loki, not yet, but as long as he was on their side she’d root for him. Then she looked past them, to where Thanos lounged on Asgard’s throne, and the sigh caught in her throat.

Thanos’s gaze was fixed not on the battle in front of him, but on the distance beyond the throne room doors, and his blunt teeth were bared in a hungry smile.

* * *

The dragon had had a head start on Thor and so the gliders reached him first, with the warbeasts close on their tails. He met them with a gout of flame, and blue power flared to intercept their return fire. Thor had thought to leave him to take care of the gliders and the warbeasts, but his talking device crackled to life and he heard Agent Romanoff’s voice: “Guys, heads up, Thanos looks like he’s planning something.”

Even as she spoke, two of the warbeasts changed course abruptly, angling in toward the dragon, the Chitauri lining their flanks howling with bloodlust. Thor shouted a warning but Tikalukatal was already moving, diving—

—a cluster of gliders cut him off, forcing him to change direction—

—more gliders met him, slamming him with energy bolts—

—Thor called lightning, blasting a hole in their formation, and Tikalukatal dove through—

—only to run into another warbeast that had come up from below, and the dragon roared his fury even as the gliders behind him hit him with still more bolts, so many that Thor had to squint and look away from their light. The other two warbeasts piled into the chaos, nosediving into their allies’ fire to clamp jagged teeth on the dragon’s arms and legs, plunging down toward a tall building, dragging Tikalukatal with them, his black-and-red wings flaring as he struggled to free himself—

—and they crashed into the building, three warbeasts and thousands of tons of metal and stone crumbling down and burying the dragon under a mountain of rubble. Thor spun Mjölnir, preparing to fly down to help, and then he felt it: a wrenching twist in the air, charged atmosphere displaced and drawn into a hungry whirlpool. He stopped once more, hovering in place, searching for the source of the disturbance—

—then a terrible sharp tug and the Bifrost wailed, and a vast gaping portal spun open at the base of the rainbow bridge. Just like the one that had brought the Chitauri to Midgard, save that its edges were shot through with lines of purple and red magic; and its power roiled the atmosphere around Thor, drawing in the built-up energy of the storm. Far below, the Asgardians in the streets reacted with horror, screams of fear and dread echoing over the rumble of thunder and the wail of the Bifrost.

“Thor!” Rogers shouted over the comm. “What the hell’s going on over there?”

“Another portal,” Thor answered grimly; his attention was on the storm, and wrenching its power back under his control. “Thanos brings more allies.”

“All right, keep it bottlenecked,” Rogers ordered.

“Aye,” Thor said. Lightning danced along his arms, up his hands, around Mjölnir’s handle, power arcing up into the clouds overhead; and he aimed it toward the portal. “Asgard!” he shouted, and the cries below subsided, his people listening for his word. “Ready yourselves!” Thunder boomed around him, carrying his voice across the city, and golden heads and silver swords turned toward the portal. Whatever was about to come through, whatever twisted creatures Thanos had dredged up from the depths of the void—

The warriors of Asgard would destroy them.

Chapter Text

The portal spun, a hungry purple and red whirlpool standing at the foot of the Bifrost, and any moment now it would begin to spit out more enemies, more Chitauri or warbeasts or other monsters bent on the destruction of Asgard. Thor hovered above it, Mjölnir thrumming in his hand, the power of the storm ready to be unleashed on Thanos’s allies the moment they set foot on Asgardian soil. Below, those commoners not fighting the Chitauri had turned as well, weapons raised. The portal roiled, and the tips of long spears emerged—

—Thor opened his mouth to call for an attack—

—horns blared, an unexpectedly familiar fanfare, and the spear-bearers came through the portal fully, flags flying, flags that Thor knew—

Elves.

The elves of Alfheim, marching in perfect order, flanked on either side by cavalry and above by warriors mounted on Vanir flying horses. Their standards snapped sharply in the wind and their horns blared again, trumpeting the houses of the elf lords and their army. The Eliatrope Jahanna walked near the head of the column, between the horses of Alfheim’s land and air marshals, and their color guard lifted their standards in a salute to Thor and the warriors of Asgard.

“Alfheim!” Thor shouted, disbelieving, and below him, his people roared in surprise and delight. The Chitauri screeched in sudden fear, and before the relentless march of the elven army, their overwhelming numbers no longer seemed so terrible. Thor released the power he’d held in a clap of thunder that shook the ground, relief too profound for words flooding through him; and he shouted again: “Alfheim comes to Asgard’s aid!”

* * *

Tony rocketed toward the rainbow bridge at full speed. He’d dropped the captain off back at the palace, and while it hadn’t taken long it had been long enough for the dragon to go down and a portal to open. He could hear Thor over the comm, heard the relief in his voice when he shouted Alfheim, and something in Tony’s chest eased. They could use a few allies right now.

Even as he thought it a Chitauri glider swooped in from his flank, plasma blasts zeroing in on him; he dove, rolling in the air, and came up beneath the glider. Two well-aimed blasts of his own took out the pilot and sent the thing spiraling out of control toward a tall gold tower. But four more had already locked on to him, and Tony dodged to one side, then the other—

—a blast clipped his shoulder, sent him tumbling head over heels before he caught his balance, and by then he was surrounded, the rest of the warbeasts and the gliders that had gone for the dragon now gunning for him, and that just wasn’t fair—but he was right over where the dragon had fallen, dragged down beneath the bodies of two warbeasts and the ruins of a tower that made Tony’s own look like a Tinkertoys construct, and Thor was way over by the Bifrost, too far to help—

—the gliders pressed tighter, a wall of alien chitin and metal and purple glowing blood, and Tony had to dodge again, up-down-side-back, thrusters screaming as he stressed them too fast, too hard. He released the mini-Jericho missiles built into the suit’s shoulders, trying to clear himself a moment of breathing space, but there were so many gliders, so close, that the explosions hit him too, and he lost his balance, one of the thrusters sputtering—

—he tumbled, arms and legs flailing frantically, but more blasts slammed into him, gliders everywhere he looked, packed too close and he couldn’t tell which way was up, Chitauri in all directions and bright brilliant lasers blinding him—

—he was falling—

Darkness.

* * *

Thor heard Tony cry out and spun in midair, just in time to see the bright red and silver armor disappear behind a mass of Chitauri gliders and warbeasts. Thor called lightning, sending the bolt blasting into the middle of the group, but there were too many: even as those struck fell away, more gliders swooped in to take their place. He spun Mjölnir—he would get there in time, he had to—but then a wave of

powerangerpainragePOWER

rocked him and he hesitated—

—an explosion, stone and metal and chitin flying everywhere and he flung the hammer straight up to dodge, but the explosion was faster and he had only a second to see a surge of red and black and heat and fury erupt like a volcano from beneath the rubble, before a piece of stone the size of a horse slammed into him and he went tumbling away over the city.

* * *

Natasha watched with her heart in her throat as Loki leaped over a slash of the Other’s lance, landed and rolled barely in time to avoid a second. He returned with a swing of his own, but she could tell the Other was winning: Loki’s movements were growing wilder, more frantic, and the Other was clearly toying with him, snarling threats and insults with viciously precise timing. If there had been any doubt left that Thanos and the Other had tortured Loki into doing their bidding, his terrified, animalistic reactions to the Other’s taunts showed the truth of it.

Still, she didn’t interfere. Thor’s admonition aside, Natasha honestly wasn’t sure there was much she could do in a fight like this, not when both combatants were effectively bulletproof, and Thanos watched from the depths of the baldachin. If she got close, she’d only get in Loki’s way, or get zapped to ash.

But knowing she couldn’t help didn’t make it any easier to do nothing.

* * *

It took a couple of seconds for Tony to realize that he wasn’t dead. Or falling. Or being pummeled by Chitauri lasers. Instead, he was somewhere dark and damp and… soft?

He frowned as he switched to the darkvision cameras—and froze. A few inches from his face was a row of razor-sharp teeth, each longer than his arm. The surface below him shifted, confirming it: he was inside something’s mouth. Not a Chitauri warbeast; he’d been in one of those and the teeth were all wrong. Which left…

“Uh, hey, Mushu, that you?”

An amused rumble vibrated Tony’s entire body, and a voice rang in his mind: “Yes, it is Tikalukatal.”

“Uh.” Tony hesitated. “If you’re hungry, I’d really recommend one of the Chitauri over the skinny guy in a metal suit, they’ve got more meat—”

“Tikalukatal is not going to eat you,” the dragon answered.

“Oh,” Tony said. “Good.”

“You showed sympathy to Tikalukatal’s brother when too few others did,” the dragon continued. “Tikalukatal was simply in a hurry.”

“Your broth—You mean Loki?”

“Yes.”

“Well, thanks for the save,” Tony said. He worked his arms carefully, mindful of the teeth in front of him; checked the suit’s HUD but nothing seemed badly damaged, just strained. “So, think you can let me out near one of those warbeasts? We need to take them down.”

“Tikalukatal is trying,” he said, “but they are resistant to his fire breath, and tearing them apart by claw takes too long.”

“Yeah, they’re a pain in the—wait.” Tony grinned. “Wait, I have an idea. They’re resistant to your fire breath, but what if you added a superheated bullet?”

“Sir,” Jarvis interrupted, “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Of course it is,” Tony answered, and he heard the dragon chuckle.

“You have a brave heart,” Tikalukatal said.

“Sir,” Jarvis said sharply. Tony ignored him, shifting to curl into as tight a ball as he could, his legs drawn up and his arms wrapped over his head. “Sir, this is extremely—”

“Dangerous, yeah, yeah,” Tony said. “We needed to test the new heat shielding, anyway. Lock the suit in place, flailing would be a really bad idea.”

Jarvis sighed, and when the hell had Jarvis learned to sigh? “As you wish,” he said.

Servos whirred and clicked into place, and Tony checked the exterior cameras, since his visor currently had a spectacularly close-up view of his kneecaps. To the front, the huge teeth had shifted slightly, and Tony could hear Tikalukatal inhale. Behind him, a molten red glow flared to life deep in the dragon’s gullet, and Tony suddenly wondered if maybe Jarvis was right, this was a really bad idea…

“Brace yourself,” Tikalukatal warned, and Tony closed his eyes and prayed.

* * *

Thor hit a building and plowed through two walls before a third, stronger than the others, stopped him. He lay dazed for a moment, his head spinning, then remembered Tony was in trouble and forced himself to focus. He struggled to his feet and climbed back through the broken walls – wincing a little when he spotted a child’s cradle, thankfully empty, and a well-kept drawing room now broken and littered with debris – until he reached the front of the building. He was on a broad balcony overlooking what had been a market square; turned now into a field hospital of sorts, where women and children tended to injured warriors.

One of the healers spotted him and shouted something, drawing the attention of the rest, though Thor could not make out the words over the cries of the wounded and the dying. Thor raised Mjölnir in a brief salute, then spun the hammer and flung himself back into the sky. He knew he should stay, even for a moment, and offer words of comfort or encouragement – knew that Loki would have done it, if he were there – but while Thor could rouse an army to battle, he had never been comfortable around the fallen.

Then he was in the air again, and the guilt vanished beneath a renewed focus on the fight. Below, the elven forces had engaged the Chitauri army, providing support for the beleaguered Asgardian commoners and cutting a broad swath through the press of battle. Nearby, the dragon Tikalukatal soared through the sky, eyes glowing with blue fire, banking toward a group of warbeasts flying in the direction of the palace. The warbeasts and the gliders that had surrounded Tony were gone, scattered across the city or in pieces spattered on the ground.

And he couldn’t see Tony anywhere.

He flew forward, toward the spot where Tony had been cornered; called into the comm, “Tony? Tony, where—”

“Tony’s busy right now,” Tony said over the comm. “Leave a message at the whoooaaaaa!!”

Thor winced as Tony’s voice rose to a wild shout; at the same moment, Tikalukatal released a blast of fire that shot like a spear through the warbeasts in front of him, and at the very front of the flames Thor could just make out a red-and-silver blur.

* * *

Everything was heat and impacts and the screaming of tortured metal, and Tony kept his eyes squeezed closed, forcing himself to breathe as steadily as he could manage. He was not going to have a flashback to the desert, to the Mark I and flying and falling and the terrible dry heat, to death and pain and loss and no, no flashbacks—

—and then he was falling, the heat fading and the last of the impacts somewhere behind him, Jarvis suggesting with a hint of panic in his mechanical voice that perhaps now would be a good time to activate the thrusters—

—another impact, then rolling, then blessed stillness. And… a familiar grunt.

Tony forced his eyes open and lifted his faceplate. He was lying on one of the broad balconies that were everywhere in Asgard, smoke and heat waves rising from the metal of his suit. The Hulk stood over him, shaking one hand out; more smoke rose from black char marks on his green skin.

“Oh,” Tony said. “Hey there, big guy. Thanks for the save. Again.”

The Hulk grunted, blunt teeth flashing in a satisfied grin. “Smash good,” he said, and pointed. Tony followed his finger to where three warbeasts plunged like deflated balloons from the sky.

“Whoa,” he said, impressed. “Mushu’s got good aim.” He pushed himself up to his knees, was about to stagger to his feet when the Hulk wrapped a massive hand around his arm and set him upright. “Seen Jahanna around?” Tony asked. The one good thing about the many bad memories was that they’d given him another idea.

The Hulk pointed back toward the Bifrost. “Portal,” he said, and Tony nodded; before he could say anything else the Hulk grunted what was probably a goodbye and leaped off the building, plummeting down to land on the head of a passing warbeast. Tony let his faceplate slip back into place and blasted off toward the portal.

It was easier than he’d expected to find Jahanna: a streak of bright blue light darted around the battlefield near the foot of the rainbow bridge, and more flashes of blue took out gliders and footsoldiers alike. Tony put the suit’s speakers on full volume and shouted her name as he approached; the blue streak came to an abrupt stop on the side of a tower and Jahanna herself was suddenly visible, balanced precariously in a windowsill. Tony pulled up beside her and raised his faceplate again. “That big portal,” he said. “Can you make another one?”

“Yes,” she said warily.

“Good,” Tony said. “I need you to go to New York – Stark Tower – my tower, find Rhodey – uh, Lieutenant Colonel James Rhodes. Tell him to get his army up here, and to bring every EMP and missile he has.”

Jahanna gave him a sharp look, odd with her eyes still whited out by the Tesseract’s power. “I am a criminal on Midgard,” she said. “Why would he listen to me?”

“Tell him I said that if he doesn’t get his ass up here now,” Tony answered, “I will personally tell his commanding officer and his entire battalion about that time in Las Vegas with the aerialist and the pool noodle.”

Jahanna blinked. “The…”

“Las Vegas, aerialist, pool noodle,” Tony repeated. “Got it?” She nodded, another, smaller portal already spinning open below her. Tony waved as she leaped into it, and was just turning to look for Thor when his comm crackled to life with Natasha’s voice:

“Loki is down,” she said. “Does anyone copy? Loki just went down.”

Chapter Text

Loki just went down.

The whole world stopped.

Thor couldn’t breathe.

The Chitauri gliders around him ceased to exist; he barely noticed the blasts that slammed into his armor. Their insectile chittering might as well have been the wind, for all he heard it.

Loki had fallen.

Mjölnir spun and launched and Thor was flying, racing full-speed back to the palace, heedless of the Chitauri in his path. It had to be a mistake, a trick, Agent Romanoff had fallen for one of Loki’s ploys—but the words never came, no never mind, he’s all right, no it was faked, he’s fine—

Then he was at the palace, and he dove down into the throne room.

* * *

Loki had hit the ground hard, an ugly crack when his skull met the marble floor, and though the Other – and Natasha – had waited several agonizing seconds, he hadn’t moved. Now, even as Natasha whispered frantically into her comm, hoping the Avengers would hear, the Other strode forward. He stopped with his boots only inches from Loki’s limp arm; with a contemptuous snort he kicked the scepter from Loki’s grasp, then stomped hard on Loki’s fingers. Natasha heard the crunch of bone.

Loki twitched, a low keen of pain tearing its way from his throat.

She couldn’t wait any longer. There were more Chitauri creeping in from the edges of the room, likely coming from deeper in the palace, and if she waited until the Avengers got there Loki would be dead. Even if she couldn’t stop the Other and Thanos herself, hopefully she’d be able to buy Loki some time. She stepped out from behind her pillar, guns raised and aimed at the Other. “Step away,” she ordered levelly.

The Other, one foot half-lifted for a kick, paused and looked over his shoulder at her. “You would give your life for him?” he hissed, incredulous. “He who attacked your realm, who enslaved one companion and killed another?”

Natasha set her jaw. “I’m not one to blame people for the orders they were given.”

She had barely a flicker of warning, her senses screaming at her and she dove to the side, rolling, and Thanos’s ray of power lanced through the air where she’d been standing.

You’re brave, little mortal, but you have no place here among gods and titans.

She huddled down behind a pile of bodies, Chitauri and Aesir alike, resisting the urge to drop her guns and press her hands to her ears. Thanos’s voice wasn’t quite as bad as the shrieking trick the dragon had pulled back in New Mexico, but it was close. A crackle like static along her skin and the body on the top of the stack shielding her turned to ash, and she ducked, gauged the distance to the closest pillar but it was too far, Thanos would kill her before she got halfway—

—a clap of thunder that shook the walls and rattled her teeth, and Thor landed in the middle of the room. Lightning crackled along his arms and sparked at the tips of his hair, and his voice was low and furious as he growled, “Get away from my brother.”

The Other laughed, sibilant and mocking, and instead of backing away he stepped closer, straddling Loki’s body, crouching to run corpse fingers along Loki’s face. “He is mine,” the Other sneered. “I have made him—”

Thor lunged forward, Mjölnir lifted. “I SAID GET—”

Loki’s eyes snapped open and his hand moved, silver flashing along the Other’s body from groin to chin. The Other had time for a startled noise, gurgling, choking, then another flash and Loki’s knife took his head.

“My fight,” Loki rasped, and if his voice was torn and broken it was also fierce. He shoved the Other’s body aside and lurched to his feet, rage and madness and a terrible black joy in his eyes. “Mine.”

Thor came to a stop and his whole body sagged with relief, the lightning fading. “Loki…” he said, but Loki snarled, sharp and bestial, and Thor flinched. Natasha flinched, too; there was nothing human in that sound, nothing sane.

Then movement from within the baldachin caught her eye and she looked over to see Thanos rising from the golden throne. He lifted his hands and clapped once, twice, lazy and mocking.

Well done. You have killed my servant.

Loki spun back to face him, anger still twisting his features. He lifted his scepter, but before he could attack Thanos spoke again:

Perhaps I should give his place to you.

"Never," Loki spat. "I won’t do it."

Thanos smiled, a faint curling of his mouth.

Won't you?

"You can't threaten me any more," Loki snarled. "There's nothing left. You've taken my pain, my fear, my despair. You’ve taken my pride and my mind, you’ve taken my lo—my Eliatrope. There's nothing left you can take from me to make me do your bidding."

The titan's smile widened, just a little. Natasha spotted something overhead, an insectile skitter of motion along the pillars, but even as she opened her mouth to shout a warning, nearly a dozen Chitauri dropped from where they'd been climbing along the ceiling and landed on Thor.

* * *

Thor saw the danger in Thanos's smirk, tried to dodge, to get out of the way, but the Chitauri crashed into him, taking him to the floor with the weight of their bodies and the force of the impact. He roared a challenge, drawing Mjölnir back to swing, but one of the beasts grabbed his arm, slowing his strike; another of them wrapped itself around his shoulder, and the rest latched on to his legs and his other arm, weighing him down, trapping him in place.

He could see Loki, bright green eyes flicking between Thor and Thanos with the desperation of a caged animal, trying to figure out what to do, whether to dodge or run or attack. He could hear the familiar whine of Tony's thrusters, glanced up to see the red and silver suit fly down from the open ceiling to land near Loki, the weapons in his arms raised and pointed at Thanos. He could see Agent Romanoff, a little ways away, still crouched half behind the pile of bodies that had sheltered her, her guns held ready.

Thor shifted his grip on Mjölnir, difficult with the Chitauri hanging off his arms but not impossible, and sneered at Thanos. "You think to trap me?" he demanded. "I am Thor Odinson, and the power of the storm is mine to command. Your petty creatures cannot hold me for long."

They don't have to hold you forever.

Loki's head came up, eyes snapping to Thanos.

Just long enough.

Thanos lifted a hand, his finger pointing at Thor, but it was to Loki he spoke.

I have not yet begun to exhaust the ways I can hurt you.

"No!" Loki shouted, and then Thor realized what Thanos intended to do. The titan's finger began to glow, vicious purple power gathering to lance out at him—

—Thor wrenched at the Chitauri holding him, dragging them, but they held on with a terrible tenacity and he couldn't move, not nearly fast enough to dodge—

—Tony screamed something, the metal suit lunging for Thor but he was too far away—

—a flash of green and gold and then Loki was in front of Thor, his arms stretched wide, protective. His head turned, just enough for Thor to see the slight quirk of his mouth, apologetic and a little sad. The animal madness was gone from his eyes, and in its place was the same terrible peace as a year ago, just before he’d let go.

Thanos's ray hit him full in the chest.

Time came to a stop.

Ash in front of Thor, drifting lightly through the air. Ash on his vambraces, the silver of his armor, the red of his cloak; ash brushing the exposed skin of his hands and face.

Loki was gone.

"No," Thor whispered.

He looked down at his hands, at the fine coating of ash, heedless of the Chitauri still holding him; looked up, scanning the room desperately, looking for any sign of a veil, a flicker of Loki's magic. It had to be a trick, had to be, Loki was the master of tricks, of illusions, of deception and misdirection and it had to be that and no more, Loki couldn't be gone—

"No," he said again, and then his eyes landed on Tony's suit - the suit that allowed him to see through illusions, and he shouted, "Tony! Tony!"

But the suit's glowing eyes were fixed on the spot where Loki had been, the spot where now only a pile of ash settled slowly to the marble floor. Tony's faceplate slid up and his dark eyes met Thor's; and Thor saw his own horror mirrored there. "I don’t—" Tony said, and stopped, tried again. "Thor, that was—he’s—"

Somewhere in the skies of Asgard, a dragon wailed a mournful cry.

Ice in Thor's chest, his soul freezing over, hollowed out and blowing away with the ashes in the wind.

Loki was gone.

Thanos began to laugh.

“For you.”

—Thor

Chapter Text

Sick dread sat in Tony’s stomach, choked his throat closed. The expression on Thor’s face was terrible: grief and horror and desperation and rage and a dozen other things not so easily identified. He stood frozen in the grip of the Chitauri, still staring at the ash on his hands – the ash that was all that was left of his brother.

Tony flipped his faceplate back down and did one more scan of the room, just in case – but he’d been looking right at them when Loki had… when it had happened. There were no illusions, no sign of the faint golden glitter that was all he saw of Loki’s magic through the suit’s lenses, no Loki himself standing nearby and looking smug. Loki was dead, vaporized to save Thor’s life, and Tony couldn’t help but see Yinsen, and that was a line of thought he really didn’t want to go down, not now, not in the middle of a war.

He breathed in, out, gritted his teeth and shoved the memories down. Loki had given his life to save Thor; the least the rest of them could do was kill the titan who’d killed him. Tony turned back to Thor, opened his mouth to speak—

—realized that Thor’s hair was standing on end, lightning crackling along his arms, the Chitauri holding him rigid not from the effort of keeping him pinned but from the electricity coursing through their bodies. The suit’s ambient atmosphere sensors were going haywire, power in the air and clouds like bruises gathering overhead, the wind in the great throne room picking up ominously. “Sir,” Jarvis said nervously, “perhaps we should take our leave—”

A flash of light that blinded Tony despite the suit’s flare protection, and at the same time a clap of thunder that left his ears ringing, and he blinked his eyes clear in time to see a second bolt of lighting crackle down from the open ceiling to strike Thor, sending the Chitauri holding him flying. Thanos had stopped laughing, his eyes narrowing as he looked at Thor, purple power gathering around his open hands.

Tony spun around, blasting off toward Natasha; caught her around the waist even as another bolt struck the pillar next to her. “Time to go!” he said. She held on tight, wrapping her legs around his for balance, and they shot through the main doors of the throne room a bare instant before the entire room exploded with lightning and thunder and a grief-filled roar.

* * *

Thor swung Mjölnir, struck a purple-skinned arm, heard the titan’s growl and wound up to strike again, the hammer’s weight no longer comforting but a reminder of his failure, and he drove it into Thanos’s stomach.

not Loki

Magic like a lance, and he barely bothered to dodge, feeling the power slither past his cheek, not quite touching, and he aimed another blow at Thanos’s outstretched arm, knocked it aside and slammed Mjölnir back into the titan’s shoulder, hearing bone crack and crunch.

not my brother

He reached for the clouds, for the power swirling and sparking through them, and lightning answering his call, a lance of his own, a million times brighter and it hit Thanos square in the chest, knocking him back, and Thor chased him, Mjölnir swinging, roaring his fury.

not again

* * *

“Thunder god,” Tony gasped past the ringing in his ears, the booming of thunder and the snap-crack of lighting. “So that’s what it means.”

“Stark!” Steve shouted over the earpiece. “What the hell’s going on?”

Tony scanned the courtyard of the palace, spotted the captain standing on top of the defensive wall above the gate. He dove in, deposited Natasha next to Steve. “Loki pulled an Obi-Wan,” Tony said grimly. “Thor’s taking it about how you’d expect.”

Steve frowned, and Tony remembered that the reference was probably too recent for him; had his mouth open to explain but Steve looked away, his expression turning dark. “Damn,” he said. “If Loki can’t – couldn’t – take Thanos, we’re in trouble.”

Natasha shook her head suddenly. “No,” she said, and hesitated, then covered her comm. “This was Loki’s plan all along.”

“What?” Tony demanded. “I don’t see how dying is a plan—”

“That,” Natasha said sharply, and gestured back to the palace, to where lightning snaked out from the open ceiling, golden arches cracked beneath the thunder’s assault, plummeting down in the face of Thor’s wrath. To where the clouds above the throne room had begun to spin, and a funnel stretched down hungrily. “Loki set Thor up. He let the Other take him down to get Thor to come back, he said the one thing guaranteed to make Thanos attack Thor.”

The bottom dropped out of Tony’s stomach and he looked over at Steve – but the captain looked as horrified as Tony felt. Tony whispered, “No way.”

“It was his only way out,” Natasha said tiredly. “Last week, on the ‘Carrier… he said it. He didn’t believe anything could wipe out that much red. Even killing Thanos himself. But dying to save Thor, dying to give Thor the strength to kill Thanos…”

Tony closed his eyes. “He dies a hero instead of a traitor, no matter what happens.”

* * *

he’s my brother

A blow to the gut but this time Thanos barely twitched, red armored gauntlet lashing out, hitting Thor across the face, and before he could recover another blow smashed his arm, his side, the world spinning and falling away.

my little brother

Flying through the air and his arm was numb, not responding, and he landed on his feet and his good hand, skidding on the marble, wind roaring around him, lashing out, tearing at the titan’s cloak, blasting debris into his face, forcing him to brace himself.

you took him from me

Thor charged, lunged, Mjölnir lashing out, up, taking Thanos under the chin and the titan staggered, turning his head to spit out a bloody tooth and Thor hit him again and again, lightning and thunder shattering the air, spiking through them both, harmless to Thor but Thanos roared with pain.

give him back

* * *

“Damn it,” Steve said, and spun abruptly to drive a fist into the stone wall beside him. “Damn it!”

Natasha’s jaw was set; she traded glances with Tony and he knew she had hoped, too, that they might be able to save Loki. He took a deep breath, turned back to Steve. “So what do we do now?” he asked. “None of us can get close enough to help Thor—”

“Stark?”

Tony jumped, even as he recognized the new voice over his comm. “Rhodey?”

“Stark, what the hell is going on here, what did you bring us into?”

“A clusterfuck,” Tony said grimly. “Where are you, I’m on my way.”

“Some kind of glowy magic bridge, at the edge of the city.”

“The Bifrost,” Tony said, and glanced at Steve. Steve nodded to him and Tony took off. If Rhodey was there it meant Jahanna would also be back; Tony had no idea what was going on between Jahanna and Loki, but he’d been listening over Natasha’s comm and Loki had stopped himself just short of calling Jahanna his lover. If she felt anything for him in return, they were about to have one extremely unhappy, Tesseract-amped Eliatrope on their hands—

—and even as he thought it he saw a streak of blue flying through the air toward him, and he veered to intercept it. “Jahanna!” he shouted, and she came to a stop, floating in midair, whited-out eyes fixing on him.

“Where’s Loki?” she demanded. “I can’t feel his wakfu. Where is he?!”

Shit, Tony thought, and he flipped up his faceplate, looked her in the eye. “Loki’s dead,” he said. “He took a spell meant for Thor.”

The magic vanished from her eyes and she stared at him in disbelief. “No,” she whispered. “No, he wouldn’t—he was going to—” Then disbelief turned to understanding turned to sudden white-hot fury, Tesseract-blue flaring from her eyes and the lines etched on her skin, and her mouth opened in a cry—

—Tony grabbed her wrist, ignoring the sparks her power sent through his suit. “Jahanna!” he shouted. “You want to avenge him, you want to hurt Thanos—” and he pointed above and behind him, to where the hiveships still floated inexorably forward, close enough now that their shadows covered the outermost shores of the city— “then take those down, take down his reinforcements, stop him from winning. Loki gave his life to protect Asgard and you can make his sacrifice worth it.”

She screamed, a wordless cry of anguish and pain, then Tony’s hand was empty and a blue streak shot through the sky toward the nearest hiveship. Tony felt sick, using her grief like that, but he didn’t have a choice. Even if putting two raging god-powered beings in the same room didn’t sound like a spectacularly bad idea, they needed the hiveships taken out more than Thor probably needed help with Thanos. At least Jahanna had listened to him—

“Stark!” Rhodey shouted over the comm. “Where the hell are you? There’s Chitauri and goddamn Tolkien elves everywhere!”

“Right, sorry,” Tony said. He could see the Bifrost now, and the battalion of armed and armored US soldiers at the end of it, resolutely defending their space. Rhodey himself, in a red-white-and-blue Iron Man suit, stood at the head of the formation, snapping orders. Tony landed beside him and flipped up his faceplate again. “What, is the Capsicle more popular than me now?” he said, and if his heart wasn’t in the joke, Rhodey didn’t seem to notice.

“Wasn’t my choice,” Rhodey said. His faceplate opened too, the sight of his familiar features a bigger relief than Tony expected. “The higher-ups wanted the patriotic look. I was trying for matte black, for night work.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder, to where a group of soldiers guarded crates all too familiar to Tony from his time in the arms trade. “You asked for EMPs, I got five of ‘em, plus two of your old Jerichoes the army still had hanging around. Where do you want me to aim ‘em?”

Tony pointed up at the hiveships, and Rhodey whistled softly. “Goddamn,” he muttered. “Glad we didn’t see those over New York last week.”

“We did,” Tony said. “Where do you think I put that nuke?” Rhodey shook his head, awe on his face, and Tony continued, “We’ll need to get close, those EMPs won’t have much range. You and I are the only fliers we have—”

“Not the only fliers,” a new voice interrupted, and Tony looked up to see a pair of Chitauri gliders swoop down, a tall Aesir steering one with Barton behind him, and Natasha directing the other. Natasha said, “The captain sent us. We heard your plan. We can carry a couple.”

“Good,” Tony said, and turned to Rhodey. “Tell your people to get moving. It’s time to end this.”

* * *

give him back

Thor lifted Mjölnir for another strike but this time Thanos lashed out first, his fist catching Thor in the chest and Thor felt bone break, felt the sharp stabbing pain when he drew breath that meant broken ribs, and it stunned him for a moment, just a moment but long enough for Thanos to pull free.

give me back my brother

A crackle of purple power and Thanos gestured, a battering ram of magic slamming into Thor from behind, from the side, knocking him staggering, and he tried to catch his balance but Thanos waded back in, fists swinging, blunt teeth bared in a fierce grin.

Pain on all sides, from all directions, as Thanos hit him over and over, fists and magic pounding him and he couldn’t escape, tried to block with Mjölnir but another blow knocked the hammer from his hand, sent it flying and Thor tried to reach for it but Thanos hit him in the gut and he folded, gasping for breath, falling to his knees before the titan.

Loki I’m sorry

Thanos’s hand tangled in his hair, yanking his head up, making Thor look at him, and the delighted malice in his eyes sent dread through Thor’s soul, set him struggling again but only one arm even moved, pain spiking through him from broken bones and abused flesh, and Thanos’s mouth split into a broad bloody smile as purple power gathered around his fist like a knife, aimed for Thor’s throat.

I’m not strong enough

Thanos struck.

I’m sorry.

Chapter Text

A true warrior faces death with dignity, with his eyes open and full knowledge of what is coming. It would be cowardly to close his eyes (and Loki had faced death with his eyes open, hadn’t he?), so Thor looked up at Thanos, met his cruel stare as the titan’s magic blade sliced toward his throat—

—saw the lance of brilliant gold power that slammed into Thanos, sending him flying across the room.

Thor knelt frozen for a moment, too shocked to move, too shocked to believe that death had not yet come for him (when it should have, when he’d failed his brother, he’d failed his friends). Then he turned in the direction from which the spear had come—

Odin.

Thor remember Loki, lying on the roof of Stark Tower, laughing mad and broken.

Odin Borson, the Allfather, in full battle regalia and with his crown upon his brow, strode up the steps from the baldachin, his expression grim. He lifted a hand, calling Gungnir back from where it had struck Thanos, and once again flung it at the titan, knocking him against a pillar hard enough to crack it.

He’d never save me.

Thor forced himself to move, forced himself to his feet. Odin came toward him, the anger on his face fading to worry, one hand half-outstretched as if to help him rise.

He was glad to be rid of the Jotun pretender in the house of Odin.

Thor punched him in the jaw with all the strength left to him.

Odin staggered, his free hand coming up to touch his jaw, his expression more shocked than Thor had ever seen. “Have you gone mad?” he demanded.

“No,” Thor growled. “But you have.” Odin stared at him, uncomprehending; Thor snarled, “You waited, you couldn’t be bothered to come until it was me in danger, Loki was right, Loki was right all along, you don’t care about him, you would never have saved him, how could you—”

He’d expected a rebuke, a roar of Silence!, even a blow in return – but it was the look of sick grief on Odin’s face that stopped him. Odin’s one eye closed, and in that moment it was as if he emptied, his regal posture sagging, the power and confidence vanishing; he looked ancient, tired, broken. Thor’s gut twisted and he finished in a whisper, “How could you save me but not him?”

Odin’s eye opened again, met Thor’s. “Because I couldn’t lose y—”

He broke off, his whole body jerking, surprise and pain crossing his face.

Then he crumpled to the floor at Thor’s feet, Gungnir jutting from his back, leaving Thor staring across the throne room to where Thanos stood, a manic grin on his face and his arm still outstretched from the throw.

Thor fell to his knees beside his father's limp body (no, no not him too, not both of them—!). Odin shuddered, and Thor caught him by the shoulder, steadied him. “Don't,” he said. “Don't move, Father, hold still—”

A hand grabbed his hair and flung him aside, hard; he hit the marble floor awkwardly on his injured arm and pain spiked red through his vision. Thanos stepped past him to kneel beside Odin, his mouth twisted in a cruel leer. He yanked Gungnir out of Odin’s back, laughing at his moan of pain; threw the spear aside and rolled Odin over roughly.

You're old, Borson. Old and weak and foolish.

Thor struggled to his knees and held out a hand for Mjölnir, but when the hammer's handle smacked into his palm his fingers didn't respond fast enough, and it tumbled back to the ground. Thanos grabbed the front of Odin's armor, lifted him up a little, and smirked once again when Odin's breath left him in a gasp.

You cling to the illusion of power. You shout and you bluster.

This time when Thor called Mjölnir he managed to hang on. Got one leg beneath him, then the other.

You resort to flashes and flares, tricks and deception. You use your own children as your cat's-paws, you send them to die in your place.

Thor lunged, hammer swinging - but Thanos backhanded him away as if he was of no concern at all (and why would he be, he'd failed, failed to protect Loki, failed to protect Odin, he was nothing). This time when Thor hit the ground he stayed there, sick and dizzy, pain screaming through his body and despair weighting his limbs. Thanos watched him for a moment, then with a contemptuous snort turned back to Odin.

It's time for you to die, Odin Borson.

Thor drew a breath—to shout, to protest, to something, but there was nothing he could do, he could barely move, couldn’t even hold Mjölnir, Odin was going to die in front of him just like Loki and then Thanos would kill Thor, kill his friends, destroy Asgard and the universe with it—

Loki appeared from nowhere behind Thanos, the Eliacube floating at his back, bright blue power flowing from it into his shoulders, down his arms to where he held his hands to either side of Thanos's head. Thor's breath caught in his chest, his heart stopping for a moment—Loki! Loki, alive, whole, still bloody and battered but alive, Thor hadn’t lost him!—then Thanos dropped Odin and started to rise, started to reach back to attack Loki, and Thor forced his aching body into motion one last time.

He caught the titan's arm, hung tight, his broken arm screaming but he didn't care. Thanos frowned at him as if he was a recalcitrant child—

—Thor called Mjölnir—

—the hammer slapped against his hand and it didn't matter that he didn't have the strength to hold it, because he let it fall onto Thanos's foot.

Already halfway into his turn, Thanos couldn't stop himself in time; he tripped, hard, going to one knee, and Thor redoubled his grip on his arm, wrapping his own arms as tight as he could. Slowing him down, holding him back. Screamed into his comm, “My friends! I need you!”

And behind Thanos, Loki began to chant.

It was the ancient language of magic, strange and beautiful and almost a song, and the power raised the hair on Thor's arms, sent shivers down his spine. Thanos snarled, furious, his free arm lifting to strike at Thor—

—a bestial roar and the Hulk came leaping across the room, grabbed his other arm, stopping the blow, pinning Thanos down. Thanos snarled at them.

You cannot think to hold me!

Thor looked up, met his eyes. “Long enough,” he panted. “Just long enough.”

And he saw the understanding in the titan's eyes, the sudden fear, the first time he'd seen fear on Thanos's face. Loki kept chanting, blue Tesseract power shining from his palms where they framed the titan’s head; Thor could see the strain it put on him, his muscles rigid with effort, and even as he realized it Loki's flesh began to darken, turn blue, Jotun blue—

(that’s right, he was Jotun and Thor had almost forgotten, after everything)

—color bleeding along his pale skin, ceremonial scars appearing on his face, his arms, his eyes turning deep blood-red, fixed inward on the unknowable distance of his spell. Thanos howled in rage, shaking his arm hard, trying to knock Thor free but the Hulk roared back, twisting his other arm and Thor braced himself, braced his legs on the marble floor, gritted his teeth against the grinding screaming pain in his arm and chest and held on—

—Thanos shifted, leaning his weight on the Hulk, the leg not pinned by Mjölnir drawing back to kick Thor—

Red and black and a hunting hound's relentless jaws closed on Thanos's foot, Tikalukatal growling a low angry rumble more suited to his draconic form—

—and over his comm Thor could hear the others, breathless, clipped:

“Rhodey, watch it!”

“I'm fine, watch yourself!”

“We're in place, Stark! Where are you?”

Thanos screamed his frustration, drowning out their voices, and a chittering howl rose up around the throne room: Chitauri, those who had survived the combined Aesir, Alfheim, and Midgardian assault, surrounding them, weapons raised, bright purple blasts flying through the air toward Loki—

—a flash of red and blue and silver cut them off and Captain Rogers caught his shield and sent it spinning through the air once again, blocking the next wave of shots—

Loki's voice rose to a shout and the Tesseract's power surged, bright and hot and Thor looked up in time to see the blue-white power flare through him, down his arms, tracing the lines of his scars in brilliant white and his red eyes blanked out, filled to glowing with power—

“’Tasha!”

“Go, I've got it!”

“Stark, now or never!”

“Go go go, light 'em, do it!”

—Thanos wrenched against their grip, purple power flaring around his body, a protective aura, trying to shield himself—

—the Chitauri around them fell limp, puppets without strings, the glow in their eyes and their blood fading to darkness—

—the Tesseract surged again and a pair of brilliant blue-white dragon wings erupted from it, tattered and full of holes, and Thor's breath caught in his throat. Never had he seen Loki so magnificent, blue skin and blue-white power tracing his scars, the Tesseract-wings behind him stretching strong and majestic from his shoulders as if they were his own; never had he seen him so powerful—

—Thanos screamed, one last time, and Loki screamed too, the last words of the spell, power lighting up the room in a blinding white flash—

—then the arm in Thor's grip vanished, and he opened his eyes to see that Thanos was gone, dissipated, nothing left save faint motes of purple power dissolving into the wind.

Chapter Text

Loki crumpled.

The white lines of power faded from his body, blue skin fading to flesh-pale, the brilliant wings vanishing back into the Eliacube in a shower of sparks and the Tesseract clattering to the marble floor.

Thor lunged, caught Loki before he hit the ground, pulled him into a fierce embrace. He could feel Loki’s heart pounding, feel him shuddering with the aftereffects of the spell, injured and battered but whole, real, not an illusion. “You’re alive,” he whispered. “You’re alive.”

“I won’t be if you don’t let me breathe,” Loki said peevishly, his voice muffled from being pressed against Thor’s shoulder. Thor reluctantly took the hint and eased his grip; Loki squirmed free and backed away, still tense, wary, and Thor fought back a pang of hurt.

Before he could say anything, could try again to bridge the gap between them, a wordless cry sounded through the chamber and he turned to see Frigga running up the steps from the baldachin, skirts bunched in one hand and eyes fixed on Odin’s still form. Heimdall followed more slowly, his gaze distant, likely monitoring the state of affairs in the city proper. Frigga dropped to her knees beside Odin; with a glance at Loki – who watched them with that terrible dark madness in his eyes – Thor joined her. Odin’s breath came rough and labored but his eye was open, and together they helped him sit up. The wound on his back was ugly, but his armor had taken the worst of it, protecting his spine and vital organs. He would live, and Thor breathed a sigh of relief as he sat back to let Frigga tend the wound.

Across the room he could see Captain Rogers, moving among the wounded and dying Aesir scattered like broken dolls along the floor, offering aid and comfort where he could. The Hulk moved with him, heaving aside debris and Chitauri bodies, freeing those trapped beneath. Closer, the dragon Tikalukatal had shifted from the form of a hound to that of a man, tall and muscular, the Tesseract floating above one clawed hand, observing them with the same air of detachment Heimdall often wore. Still, Thor doubted it was an accident that he stood in the spot at Loki’s shoulder which Thor was used to occupying, and once again he felt a pang that Loki now turned to another for support.

A clatter of footsteps from the far end of the room heralded the arrival of Sif and the Warriors Three, their eyes still blue-sheened, their armor covered in Chitauri blood – with some Aesir red mixed in, but to Thor’s relief little of it appeared to be theirs. He forced himself to his feet once more as they approached, fought back the anger when they ignored him in favor of bowing deeply to Loki.

“The city is secure,” Sif reported. “Alfheim and Midgard’s warleaders have taken charge of organizing the cleanup.”

“Good,” Loki said, and his voice was lazy, uninterested. “Dismissed.”

“Loki!” Thor protested, even as his friends turned to leave. “The battle is over and there is no further danger. Free them.”

Loki gave him a sharp look, almost a snarl, then his face smoothed over in that disconcertingly sudden way, as if he pulled on a mask. “As you command,” he said, and if his expression was civil his voice dripped bitter sarcasm. He reached back to hold one hand over the Tesseract in the dragon’s grip and gestured with the other at Sif and the Three; there was the sound of shattered glass and all four of them staggered, hands going to their heads, breath coming in sudden gasps. Thor started toward them, intending to offer comfort, support—

—Sif lifted her head and charged at Loki with her spear outstretched. “You argr coward!” she screamed—

—Thor froze, shocked and appalled that she would dare use such an insult (remembered Loki’s words, your friends, not mine, never mine)—

—Fandral caught her around the waist, bringing her to a sudden halt; Volstagg wrested her spear from her hands before she could hurt anyone. She rounded on them, snarling. “Why do you stop me? After what he’s done—!”

Fandral looked over at Loki, his eyes hard, his mouth set straight and grim. Loki looked back, his chin lifting slightly, a smile on his lips like the void, like broken edges and jagged glass. Fandral broke the stare first, turning back at Sif. “Did you not hear Heimdall?” he said, quiet, angry. “Whatever else he did, Loki saved our lives.”

“I don’t care—” Sif started, but Hogun rested a hand on her arm, met her eyes, and she subsided.

Hogun looked past her to Loki. “We will not take vengeance,” he said flatly. “But we won’t forget, and we won’t forgive.”

Loki’s smile widened, enough to show teeth. “Good,” he said again softly, viciously.

Sif’s upper lip curled in a sneer, but she allowed the Three to pull her away. Thor watched them go, sick at heart, still reeling from Sif’s words (and Loki had not reacted at all, had almost seemed to expect it, and Thor remembered again the bitterness in his voice when he’d said never mine).

A groan caught his attention and he turned to see Odin getting stiffly to his feet with the assistance of Heimdall and Frigga. He was obviously still in pain, but his eye was clear and aware as he looked up at Loki. “I thought you dead,” he said quietly.

Frigga let go of Odin and moved toward Loki, arms outstretched to embrace him. “When Heimdall said—” she began, but Loki backed up, out of her reach, and she stopped, confusion and hurt plain on her face.

“Why are you so surprised that I live?” Loki asked, and that terrible madness was back in his voice, the bitter, broken edge that made his words as knives, sharp and deadly. “I’m a liar after all, Loki Liesmith—”

“Loki,” Frigga said, her tone gently reproachful, as if Loki was simply wreaking his usual mischief and needed but a mild reprimand to come back in line.

But Thor was beginning to recognize the shades of his brother’s madness, and the smile Loki wore now meant that he had no intention of behaving himself. Hoping to head him off, Thor said quickly, “How did you do it?” He gestured at the baldachin, at the spot where Loki had vanished. “It was no mere illusion – Tony would have seen—”

“Ah, yes, the metal man,” Loki said, and the biting sarcasm was back but the deadly edge gone; and Thor allowed himself to feel a flash of relief. Loki continued, “He only sees because of his mechanical eyes, so I placed the illusion between those eyes and his own.”

“But an illusion would not have stopped Thanos’s attack,” Thor said.

Loki laughed, bright and sharp, and gestured at the bodies scattered on the floor around them. “I had plenty of fodder.”

“Yet you hid even from my Sight,” Odin said. “I thought—”

Loki’s eyes slid over to Odin, his head and then his body turning a moment later, slow and lithe and predatory, and the relief Thor had felt a moment ago vanished. “Yes,” Loki hissed. “Tell us what you thought, Allfather.”

“I thought you died,” Odin whispered. “I couldn’t See you any more no matter how I looked—”

“I used the Eliacube to hide in the Blank Dimension,” Loki snapped, and gestured to Tikalukatal still standing silent and impassive beside him. “We set up an anchor so I could find my way back. And I did, but first I wanted to see what you would do. Whether you could be bothered to move your old bones for my sake. And you couldn’t.”

He took a step closer, looming, grim. Frigga sucked in a breath, gaze flicking between her husband and her son as if debating whether to interject – but Thor caught her eyes. He wanted to hear this, too, wanted to know the truth.

Loki kept talking, the knives back in his voice, cutting and vicious. “But for Thor… Oh, for Thor, the golden prince, your favored son. For him you’d wake, for him you’d face a titan—”

“You moved so fast, I had no time!” Odin interrupted, and his voice, too, sharpened for a moment before falling, fading. “And then I couldn’t See you any more…”

“Seeing,” Loki echoed bitterly. “If you were using the Sight, why didn’t you See the rest? Why didn’t you See how it would end? Why didn’t you See how it began?” —the void in his voice, broken glass and jagged edges, and Odin actually flinched. “Oh, but you did, didn’t you?” Loki continued, pacing closer, not letting up, madness in his eyes and his smile. “You did look with your precious Sight, you did See. You Saw this whole time, didn’t you?”

—and Thor’s breath stopped in his chest, his heart freezing—

“You Saw,” Loki said, low and vicious, “and you did nothing.”

Odin’s shoulders straightened, his mouth setting in a firm line. “What are you talking about?” he demanded, and it should have been regal, should have been the voice of a king, but Thor heard the waver in it.

(Loki writhing in the Other’s grip, screaming for Thor, for their father)

Loki went still, the hunting cat in the moment before pouncing. “Tell me,” he purred. “When did you See where I’d landed?”

(He doesn’t think you or your dad would’ve come to get him)

“I didn’t—” Odin began.

“DON’T LIE TO ME!” Loki roared, calm igniting to rage in an instant, and he was nose to nose with Odin and Thor should have pulled them apart but he was frozen, shock and dread in his heart. “I looked,” Loki spat. “I looked and I know how this conversation ends, I know exactly how many lies you’ll tell before you’ll admit the truth, so I ask you not whether you knew but when.”

—and for just a moment Thor thought Odin would deny it, prayed that Odin would deny it, because the alternative was too horrible to bear—

—then Odin sagged, the fight leaving him, his bearing gone, his shoulders slumped under some unfathomable weight.

The floor dropped out from beneath Thor’s feet, his entire world shattering.

Odin’s voice was little more than a whisper when he spoke. “More than a millennium ago, I traded one eye for the ability to See. Perhaps had I traded both, I would have Seen a better way.”

Frigga stared at Odin, one hand rising to cover her mouth. “You knew?” she whispered.

But it was Loki whose gaze Odin met. “When the sleep claimed me, in the treasury,” he said, “I Saw many things. Thanos. His army. What he planned to do. And I Saw many terrible endings, the universe destroyed in so many different ways.” He paused, eye closing, shuddering as he remembered. When he spoke again, his voice was weary. “There were a few bright spots. A few paths which could lead to victory. But in all of them… in every one of those few bright futures, one thing was the same. In all of them, I did what every fiber of my being cried out not to do.” His eye opened, found Loki’s. “I sent you to the void.”

“Father…” Thor said, and he barely recognized his own voice. He couldn’t believe it, he couldn’t understand how Odin could have known how Loki would suffer and condemn him anyway.

“I did what I had to do,” Odin whispered. “No matter what my heart might tell me, the existence of all creation had to come before the suffering of one man, even if that man was my son.”

The expression on Loki’s face as he drew away from Odin, stepped back once again into arm’s reach of the dragon, was awful in its utter calmness. Where should have been grief and pain and betrayal and a thousand other things was only a dark emptiness. He said flatly, “I understand.”

And the void in his voice, the lack of anger or condemnation or hurt, was all the more terrible because Thor knew that Loki did understand, in a way Thor never could; the same understanding that had driven him to disrupt Thor’s coronation, to lie to Thor in the SHIELD cell on Midgard, to allow the entire Nine Realms to believe him a villain. It was why he would have been a king worthy of the throne of Asgard, as Thor would never be. Because he knew what it was to sacrifice one to save many.

But while Loki might be able to accept it, to bear that answer, that understanding—Thor could not. Anger welled up inside him, hot and fierce and sparking, the clouds overhead roiling in response; and he shouted at Odin, “How could you?! He’s your son, he’s my brother, he’s family, how could you just—”

“I DID WHAT I HAD TO DO,” Odin roared, fire returning to his voice, his eye blazing as he rounded on Thor. “I saved the universe—”

“No,” Loki said, and his soft snarl was enough to silence them both, black emptiness that swallowed their fury. “No,” he repeated. “I did. I saved the universe. I, Loki Laufeyson.”

Thor froze. Frigga gasped, and Odin… Odin reeled as if Loki had struck him a physical blow, and if Heimdall had not caught him he would have fallen. The moment of fire and fury was over as quickly as it had come, and Thor was struck by how old Odin seemed, how worn down and beaten and drained. Loki breathed hard, his eyes wild and fierce, his hands twitching at his sides as though longing for his knives; Thor took a half-step forward, not sure what he intended to do, not sure whether Loki would let him do anything—

(remembered Loki leaning into his embrace in the baldachin, Loki pulling away only a minute ago, and which of those was the lie?)

—then a cry of Loki! from somewhere overhead, and a blue streak shot through the air toward them. It resolved into the Eliatrope Jahanna, the Tesseract-lines faded from her skin, a bare instant before she collided with Loki, hard enough that he staggered and Tikalukatal put out a hand to steady them. Thor stopped once more, feeling useless, feeling like an intruder, watching as Jahanna hugged Loki fiercely, as Loki lifted his arms to embrace her in return, first hesitantly, then as a drowning man clinging to a rescuer. Loki buried his face in her hair but still Thor could hear him saying, over and over, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” and Jahanna’s “Shh, it’s all right, it’s all right,” in return.

He made himself look away, but that meant looking back at Odin, at Frigga standing beside him, and then he saw the way her fists clenched at her sides, the hardness of her mouth and eyes belying the calmness of her expression. She met Thor’s eyes and he saw his own anguish there, and somehow he wasn’t sure if it was better or worse that she had also not known of Odin’s betrayal.

Then Loki set Jahanna on her feet, and together they turned back to Odin and Frigga and Thor. For the first time Thor realized that while Tikalukatal still held the Tesseract Loki had used to destroy Thanos, a second Tesseract, in the shape of a butterfly, perched on one of of Jahanna’s fox ears. Two Tesseracts, and he saw his parents notice, saw Heimdall’s eyes widen slightly – but before any of them could comment, Loki stepped forward. He sketched a bow, all the more vicious for having not a hint of mockery in it, and said coolly, “We’ll take our leave now, if it please your Majesties.”

“No,” Frigga said sharply, then, more softly, “no, wait. Stay a while. We’ll have the healers see to your wounds—”

“Keep your wretched healers,” Loki snapped; then the mask slipped back into place as abruptly as it had cracked, and he added with only a hint of bitterness, “They’re as like to kill a Jotun as heal one.”

Frigga winced, and Thor bit back a rebuke—it would only make things worse—but the queen recovered with the grace of millennia. “At least stay and feast with us,” she said. “You just saved us all, Loki. Allow us to celebrate that.”

Loki had his mouth open to speak but Jahanna beat him to it. “We accept, with gratitude,” she said politely, and gave a bow of her own; Loki looked sharply at her but she ignored him.

Frigga nodded once, outwardly calm, but Thor was close enough to see how she hid the trembling of her hands behind her skirts. To Loki, she said, “Your rooms are… as they were. If you’d like to get cleaned up…”

Loki inclined his head slightly. “Your Majesty is most gracious,” he said, then turned on his heel and swept out of the throne room, Jahanna and Tikalukatal beside him.

Chapter Text

After Loki left, things began to happen too quickly for Thor to follow. He remembered Frigga taking charge, ordering Heimdall to take Odin back to their chambers, and rounding up servants and surviving soldiers alike to see to the wounded. If there was a waver to her voice there was steel in her spine, and no one tried to gainsay her. Thor had ended up sitting on the floor at some point, exhaustion and the pain from his broken bones taking their toll; next thing he knew, Frigga had crouched in front of him and taken his face in her hands as she used to do when he was small. “It will all be well in the end,” she whispered, before turning him over to a healer.

Thor didn’t quite have the courage to ask her if she spoke prophecy, or was only hoping.

He remembered, after the healer had finished her ministrations and the only wounds left on him were those in his heart, his friends gathering around him: Tony flying down from the open ceiling in his battered and sparking metal suit; Captain Rogers supporting a half-conscious Banner across the marble floor; Agent Romanoff helping a limping Agent Barton off a winged horse. Tony regarded them for a moment, then shook his head and said to Thor, “Does Asgard have a shawarma joint? Because I’m thinking we need to start a tradition. Save a world, eat shawarma. We deserve shawarma for this, right?”

Thor stared at him blankly. The idea of joking seemed suddenly alien to him, that humor could exist in a world where fathers sent their sons to be tortured and broken. Yet he saw the way a corner of Agent Romanoff’s mouth curled up, just a little; heard Captain Rogers snort a faint laugh. They needed it, even if Thor could not fathom such a thing. He tried to think of something to say and couldn’t; then Frigga appeared at his shoulder, rescuing him. She said, “My son, your friends must be tired. Show them to the guest hall.” To the Avengers she added, “The servants will provide hot water and fresh clothes. And Asgard would be honored if you joined us for a celebratory feast tonight.”

“We’d be honored to attend, ma’am,” Captain Rogers said, and ducked his head in what was probably supposed to be a Midgardian bow. Frigga smiled at them, and though Thor could see the weariness in it, he doubted his friends could. She nodded back and bustled off, already focused on a soldier who’d rushed up to her, dripping blood but determined to make his report.

Tony stepped in front of Thor, one hand extended; Thor stared at it for a moment before realizing what it meant. Finally he took it and Tony hauled him to his feet. Framed by his metal mask, Tony’s face was worried, and Thor forced himself to smile. “Come, my friends,” he said. “I cannot promise shawarma, but the palace kitchens are known for their delicacies. I’m sure we can find something equally suitable.”

Tony still looked concerned, but Thor ignored him and strode out of the throne room, leading his companions through the palace to the guest hall. This wing had been little touched by the Chitauri invasion, used as it was mostly for visiting dignitaries; it had been empty when Thor had left for Midgard several days ago. Still, servants bustled busily through the halls, and one of them indicated, with much bowing, that a suite had been prepared for the Midgardians.

Thor had intended to stay only long enough to ensure his friends were situated, then retreat to the comfort of his own rooms – however dubious such comfort would be, now that he knew the truth of his father’s cruelty – but when he made to leave, Captain Rogers called, “Thor, wait. We need to talk.”

Thor grimaced. He did not want to have this conversation now – or ever – but if Loki could handle living it, then Thor ought to be able to handle the retelling of it. He stepped back into the suite’s main room, closing the door pointedly on the servants lingering a little too close in the hall. Squared his shoulders and faced his friends, arrayed in a semicircle and all watching him. Tried not to see accusation in their faces, nor pity. “What do you want me to say?” he asked, and he could hear the ache in his own voice.

“I think we have a right to know what happened with Loki and your father,” Rogers said. “And whether Earth is still in danger.”

He didn’t say from Loki, but Thor could still hear it, and he remembered the terrible emptiness of Loki’s expression when Odin had admitted abandoning him. He said, “My father has taken responsibility for the damage inflicted by the Chitauri on Midgard and its people.” (And if Odin hadn’t exactly, not in so many words, Thor would make him, before the humans returned to Earth with the tale). “Loki was his unwitting cats-paw, and bears none of the blame.”

Agent Barton scowled; Agent Romanoff, beside him, bumped his elbow lightly and he didn’t speak. Tony frowned, more in thought than disapproval, and Captain Rogers just nodded as if the news was little surprise. Rogers said carefully, “So what happens to Loki now?”

Thor shook his head. “I’m not sure. He will be the guest of honor at the feast tonight, of course, and after…” He glanced away. “After, perhaps things can return to normal.”

Despite looking away he was aware of the glances they traded among themselves; even the half-asleep Doctor Banner roused enough to meet Tony’s eyes for a long moment. He told himself firmly that they were mortals, and that they did not understand how the Aesir thought, how they acted. (Never mind that Loki wasn’t Aesir, not really, because he’d been raised Aesir, was a prince of Asgard, and that’s what mattered.) He took a deep breath and said softly, “Is that all?”

He heard Rogers sigh. “…Yeah,” the captain said, just as softly. “Yeah, that’s all.”

Thor nodded and left, not quite able to bring himself to look at his friends.

* * *

“You could have told me you knew I was sending you to Thanos,” Loki said, and if the question came out of nowhere, Jahanna didn’t seem all that surprised. He’d realized she had known when she’d showed no anger with him for the betrayal, remembering with the perfect clarity of hindsight how she’d looked at him from beneath Thanos’s hand, how Tikalukatal hadn’t killed him when by all rights he should have, how she’d said We’ll be fine.

Jahanna turned to look at him from her seat in front of his vanity, where she was brushing out her hair. “I could have,” she agreed. “In all that time we had, which you also used to tell me what you were doing.”

“I had rather more to explain,” he protested, but she had a point, and he conceded grudgingly, “At least some sort of signal would have been nice.”

“I’ll keep that in mind next time.” She grinned impishly; he came closer to put his hands on her shoulders, and she leaned back a little against him. He could see Tikalukatal, in his favorite ferret shape, curled on her lap; the dragon opened one eye briefly to look at him, then went back to dozing. Loki stroked his thumbs over the soft skin of Jahanna’s neck, still not quite able to believe she was there, that she hadn’t condemned him, that she didn’t hate him.

Still not quite able to believe that she could so easily forgive him, when he didn’t think he’d ever be able to forgive Odin.

As Frigga had promised, his rooms were largely untouched, although the lack of dust meant the servants had at least been keeping it clean. It was strange to be back here, among furniture and clothes and possessions that no longer quite felt like his. He remembered collecting the books stacked in haphazard rows and piles along the shelves, delving deep into the Realms’ oldest libraries for forgotten bits of lore. And forgotten they were again; he could no longer see what had caught his interest in their dusty pages. He remembered when he’d been given the bed that dominated the sleeping chamber, how proud he’d been that he was finally tall enough for a proper man’s bed. Now it seemed like a stranger’s bed, and when he’d sat on it and smoothed his hands over the furs, he’d felt nothing but a vague sense of sorrow.

He didn’t belong here, had never truly belonged here, but it had taken a year in the void to drive home the truth of it. Even his clothes, once carefully cut and fitted to his body by the best tailors in the Realms, no longer fit quite right, now that he’d been broken mind and body and put back together at the Other’s whim.

Jahanna touched his fingers gently and he realized with a start that his grip had gone white-knuckled on her shoulders. He shuddered, made himself relax. Pushed the memories to the back of his mind, buried deep beneath the shards of his soul. “So,” he said, trying to match her teasing tone, “this is your revenge, then? Making me sit through the study in torture-by-boredom that is an Asgardian feast?”

“No,” she said, and swatted his hand lightly with the hairbrush. “I thought that once you’d calmed a little, you’d remember that you shouldn’t let Odin control the tales that will come of this.”

Loki scowled, hands tightening again for a moment before he caught himself. Control. “He will anyway,” he said. “It’s not in him to allow anyone else to be the focus of the story.”

“So don’t let him,” she said, as if it were truly that easy. She set the hairbrush on the vanity and met his eyes in the mirror, suddenly serious. “Show him and all of Asgard that you’re not his creature.”

The realization of what she meant was like a shock of ice through him and he stared at her in the mirror. “I can’t—Not here, not—”

“Why not?” she asked. On her lap, Tikal had opened his eyes and watched them silently. “Not only did you just defeat a titan, you dissolved his wakfu so that he will never get the death he seeks. This is not nearly so difficult.”

He sighed. Reached inside himself, and the cold and the blue washed over him like a wave, a flood. Jahanna shivered (of course, he was a monster, who would want to be touched by a monster?), but when he started to release her shoulders she caught his hands and held them in place. “Your skin turns freezing when you do that,” she said, her smile gentle, and he could almost allow himself to believe her.

His reflection looked back at him from the mirror over the vanity, the first time he’d seen himself like this: scarred blue skin and solid red eyes. Strange, to look at himself and see someone so alien. No, not alien, he realized suddenly. He looked like Laufey – the same pointed chin, the same cheekbones, the same high brow (and it was no wonder Odin hated him so, if he looked so much like the Aesir’s oldest enemy, no wonder Odin had chosen him to cast into the void), but Jahanna reached up and back and laid a too-warm hand against his jaw. “You’re beautiful,” she said softly.

Loki snorted. “I wouldn’t say that,” and it was unnerving to watch the stranger in the mirror move and speak with him. “And I seem to recall you making a promise,” he added before she could object. Change the subject, don’t think too hard about it, or he’d lose his nerve. “About what’s beneath an Eliatrope’s hat.”

It was a better distraction than he’d expected: Jahanna blushed and ducked her head, not quite looking at him in the mirror. “I, ah,” she said. “I was hoping you’d forgotten about that.”

He raised an eyebrow at her. “Surely it can’t be worse than being a Jotun in Asgard,” he said.

She bit her lip, still not looking at him, but when he slid his fingers into her hair at the base of her hat she didn’t pull away. He found the pins and clips holding the hat in place and released them; carefully lifted the hat free—

—froze for an instant, sucking in a breath of awe before setting the hat on the vanity and reaching up once more to where a pair of dragon wings, a little bigger than his handspan and made of pure, glowing blue wakfu, stretched out from her hair. The power in them was incredible, stronger even than the pulse of the Eliacube, and it was no wonder Eliatropes wove magic-dampening spells into their hats: if one Eliatrope held this much raw power, he couldn’t imagine what it would be like to stand among a crowd of them. He didn’t quite dare touch the wings, but held his hands over them as if they were candles, drinking in the warmth of their magic.

In the mirror, Jahanna’s blush had deepened, and she was worrying her lip between her fangs. Loki asked, “Why do you think they’re so terrible?”

“They’re strange,” she blurted. “No one else has them, you don’t, the Aesir don’t, the mortals—”

“I’m blue,” he interrupted, amused, and put a finger beneath her chin to turn her toward him. She looked scared, and he wondered suddenly if this was how he’d looked to her, the first time he’d shown her his true form. Wondered if this was how she felt about him, when she called him beautiful. He said, “We can be strange together. Yes?”

She searched his face for a moment, dark eyes meeting his own (red, not green, and he wasn’t sure if he could ever get used to that). Whatever she saw there was enough to make her smile, first hesitantly, then with a heat that awoke an answering warmth within him. He leaned in close to kiss her, one hand tangling in the fall of her hair over her shoulders, her arms coming up to twine around his neck.

Tikalukatal rolled his eyes at them and disappeared in a puff of smoke.

Chapter Text

Thor took a swallow of ale, letting the racket of the hundreds of people in the feast hall wash over him. Beside him, Tony nursed a mug of his own and watched the growing crowd with poorly-disguised awe, and the rest of the Avengers stretched down the length of the table. They sat at the front of the room, at the head table with Frigga and a fully-healed Odin, the Avengers at the end of the table to Odin’s right and the generals of Asgard and Alfheim, as well as Tony’s mortal warleader friend, to his left. A great honor indeed, and Thor wondered if his companions knew that they were the first mortals to sit at the Allfather’s table in all history. Still, he couldn’t help his unease: the seats of honor to Odin’s immediate right, reserved for Loki and his companions, remained empty.

After leaving the Avengers in their suite, Thor had returned to his own rooms. He’d planned to clean up, perhaps dig through the mess of his writing desk or his wardrobe to see if he had any healing stones he could give his friends – but the next thing he knew, he was sprawled sideways across his bed and a harried-looking servant was shaking him awake. Frigga, true to her word, had arranged a feast to celebrate the victory (and, Thor suspected, to ensure that the various factions involved in the fight would all make themselves available for disposition), and Thor had less than an hour to wash and dress.

He’d made it only just in time, stopping by the Avengers’ suite to collect his companions and finding that Frigga had been generous: an elegant gown and jewelry for Agent Romanoff, and fine silks and leathers for the men. Someone had dropped off a few jars of healing salve, which had done little for Agent Barton’s ankle but had otherwise mended the mortals’ superficial injuries. It had also, according to a bemused Captain Rogers, sent Tony and Doctor Banner into a frenzy of analysis and speculation over the nature of the salve and the means by which it worked. Thor had had to field their questions – unsuccessfully, much to their disappointment – the entire way to the dining hall.

The Chitauri invasion had left the hall mostly untouched, or, more likely, Frigga had put to work those soldiers who had survived the fight unscathed. Trestle tables, surprisingly well-laid given the circumstances, stretched the length of the hall; servants bustled among the guests; and the King and Queen presided over the feast from the head table. The herald had announced Thor and his companions and they’d taken their seats beside Odin, which was when Thor had noticed the conspicuous absence of the guest of honor.

He tried not to worry, tried to tell himself that Loki had probably simply fallen asleep as Thor had, or was taking his time getting ready. It was not often Loki was honored in the Allfather’s hall, and those few times he had been (too few, now that Thor thought about it, when compared against Thor’s own celebrations), he’d spent hours making sure he was presentable. Yet Thor couldn’t help but remember how Loki had intended to leave – to go where, Thor wasn’t sure, but he hadn’t wanted to stay, and Thor feared that Loki’s anger had got the better of him and he’d left despite Jahanna’s promise.

Finally, just before the lateness would have become rude, the hall’s great doors swung open once more and the herald stepped through. Even at this distance Thor thought the man looked uneasy, and worry knotted in his stomach once more. He set down his mug, trying to peer through the doors to where Loki surely waited beyond. The herald raised his voice and spoke over the hubbub of the hall.

“The dragon Tikalukatal. His sister, Jahanna the Eliatrope,” he announced, then hesitated, glancing back over his shoulder; a sudden dread washed over Thor. The herald swallowed visibly and continued, “Her consort, honored guest of Odin Allfather, slayer of Thanos the Mad Titan and savior of the Nine Realms, Loki Laufeyson.”

Shocked silence fell over the hall as the herald spoke, as three figures stepped past him through the doorway. Jahanna and a man-shaped Tikalukatal, and Loki – except Loki was blue, Jotun blue, with his head high and his red eyes surveying the stunned guests with lazy indifference.

As if from a long distance, Thor heard Doctor Banner whisper to Tony, “What’s going on?”; heard Tony whisper back, shock clear in his voice, “Loki just delivered a royal fuck-you to Odin.”

Thor felt sick. Loki had delivered nothing so simple as an insult; it was worse than that. By having himself introduced as Laufey’s son, he had twisted the Nine Realms’ highest tribute to honor its most hated enemy. And by having himself introduced as Jahanna’s consort in lieu of all the other titles accorded him, he had renounced his status as prince of Asgard and second in line to the throne.

And he’d done it in front of nobility from three realms.

With Jahanna on his arm and Tikalukatal beside him, Loki strolled through the hall toward the head table. Instead of his usual green and gold covering him from head to toe, he wore all black, his tunic open-necked and sleeveless to expose his scarred blue arms. A few tasteful emeralds flashed in the light, and Thor could see that they were arranged so as to evoke the green ice that had studded Laufey’s flesh. On one finger Loki wore a ruby ring, Jahanna and Tikalukatal’s signature blood-red; and Jahanna likewise wore an emerald ring, a touch of Loki’s green against the red and black of her gown and fox-eared hat. Loki moved with the lazy, regal grace Thor had always envied, red eyes glinting with mischief, a roguish smile playing on his lips. The void lurked at the edges of that smile, just a few too many teeth, just a little bit of cruelty, but Thor could only see it because he knew his brother. To everyone else, he would look simply pleased with himself, smug and proud and confident.

They reached the head table and sat. Frigga had arranged things so that Loki could have allowed his companions to sit between him and Odin, but Loki rather pointedly took the seat he deserved at Odin’s right hand. He went through the motions of pleasantry, smiling graciously as Odin, sounding uncharacteristically shaken, delivered a brief speech about Loki’s heroism. If Odin stumbled a bit changing Odinson to Laufeyson, my son to our savior, Loki gave no sign of noticing. But the speech was shorter than it should have been, with no mention of the rewards normally showered on the guest of honor, and that wasn’t right, always before Odin had given his sons something when they’d made him proud, something worthy of the deeds they’d done—

—and then it hit Thor, with all the weight of Mjölnir, what Odin had planned to give Loki. He should have known sooner, had guessed without realizing back in the throne room when Loki had said I understand. A year ago he would have been nothing but furious to have the throne taken from him (except it wouldn’t have been, not really; everyone assumed he was crown prince but now he knew why Odin had never quite got around to completing the ceremony after Jotunheim). Yet all he could think was whether Loki had known what he was giving up, when he’d told the herald how to announce him. But Thor couldn’t read anything in Loki’s half-lidded eyes, his lazy, self-satisfied smile, harder than ever to decipher now that they were covered with a veneer of Jotun.

Finally Odin sat down and the feast continued, the room exploding in frantic babble as the nobility tried to process what they were seeing. Loki seemed not to notice at all, conversing lightly with Jahanna and Tikalukatal, responding politely but shortly when spoken to by Frigga. He made no attempt to talk to Odin, and the Allfather returned the favor.

And no matter how hard Thor tried, he couldn’t get Loki to look at him at all.

* * *

Clint knew full well he should eat, knew it wasn’t by accident that Natasha kept setting beautiful steaming dishes where he’d be able to smell them. But Loki sat just a few yards away, further up the table, smug as a cat. Openly flirting with his Eliatrope girlfriend, completely unperturbed by the damage he’d wrought. Exonerated of all crimes by the fucking god-king of the Nine Realms.

Clint wanted to puke.

He managed to choke down a few pieces of bread and half a slice of ham, to appease Natasha and get her to stop hovering. Eventually she allowed herself to be drawn into a conversation with Stark and Rogers, studying the people in the hall and working out who the main players were and which of them the Avengers needed to make nice to. Clint gave her a few minutes to get as distracted as she ever got, then slipped out of his chair and up the table to where Loki sat.

He was doing some kind of magic trick with the wine jug, the wine climbing out of the jug in an amorphous, slithering blob that hovered over the table. Jahanna was grinning, the nearby servants were trying and failing to not look creeped out, and the queen looked like she was debating whether to intervene. But Loki let the wine splash back into the jug as Clint approached, then turned in his chair to face him, draping one arm over the back languidly. “Ah,” he said. “My little hawkling. How are you enjoying my victory feast?”

It took everything Clint had not to punch him in the too-pointy teeth; he clenched and unclenched his hands at his sides, wishing for his bow. Or his knife. Anything. He hated that Loki was blue, hated that he looked so completely different, so unlike the man who’d tortured him and taken his mind. But there was enough familiarity in the quirk of an eyebrow, the lazy sharp curve of a smile, to set Clint’s teeth on edge, set the anger aflame just beneath his skin. He said, “I want to know why you did it.”

Loki blinked, all wide-eyed innocence. “I’ve done a great many things,” he said. “You’ll have to be more specific.”

Clint would have punched him then and to hell with protocol and social niceties – except he saw the way Jahanna touched Loki’s hand, the way the vicious edges of Loki’s smile eased just a little, and it was so much like the way Clint would touch Natasha’s arm to calm her that it froze him, stopped the breath in his throat, dampened the rage (and that wasn’t fair, Loki was supposed to be a monster, not someone who’d been broken and put back together and now had sharp edges like Natasha). When he managed to find his voice again it was quieter, the pain showing through the rage despite his best efforts. “Why didn’t you kill me?”

Loki went still, his smile fading, amusement vanishing from his face. Blood-red eyes, inhuman and ancient, met Clint’s; in them Clint could see a terrible pain, too raw to be anything but honest. He’d half-expected Loki to stand, to try to use his height to intimidate him, to get the upper hand – but Loki remained seated, looking up at him in silence for a long moment. Finally Loki spoke, his voice soft, almost gentle: “Because in the desert in the rain, you showed mercy to a man who’d lost everything.”

It took Clint a few seconds to realize what he meant.

You have heart.

It took the rest of his strength to walk out of the hall as if nothing was wrong, when everything was.

* * *

By the time Natasha found Clint in the bathroom of their suite, he’d long since thrown up what little he’d eaten. He hunched miserably over the toilet, and Natasha pushed aside the anger that coiled beneath her skin to kneel beside him, pressing a damp cloth to his forehead. When he ran out of energy even to dry-heave, he sagged against her, taking the cloth to wipe his face. She wrapped her arms around him, holding him close.

Finally Clint said, “He was thanking me.” He looked up at her, his eyes empty. “For not shooting Thor last year in New Mexico. That’s what it was.” He laughed, shattered, lost. “He was repaying a fucking favor.”

Natasha didn’t react because she’d been trained not to, but the fury roiled inside her, dark and hungry. She remembered what she’d said to Heimdall during the fight, there are worse things than death, and realized now that it had been pity in Heimdall’s eyes when he’d said yes. Pity not for what had already been done, but for the knowledge that would come.

Because Clint couldn’t take vengeance, not any more. Not when Loki had been trying, in his own twisted way, to thank him for saving his brother’s life.

Clint shuddered and buried his face against her shoulder. Natasha pulled him closer, wishing there was something she could do, wishing she could help him.

But all she could do was hold him while he broke.

* * *

Loki and his companions didn’t stay long, standing to leave as soon as they’d finished their desserts. The feast would go on long into the night, perhaps even until dawn; certainly Thor had been part of enough such celebrations over the centuries. But Loki had never stayed with him, had always disappeared when the ale began to go to people’s heads, and it didn’t surprise Thor that Loki would leave now.

He waited until they were halfway to the door before excusing himself from his mortal companions. Tony met his eyes for a long moment, but if he’d planned to say something he let it go, and just clapped Thor on the shoulder instead. Thor nodded back, more grateful for the support than he was willing to admit, then followed his brother into the hallway.

Loki had always walked fast and apparently Jahanna could keep up, even in a gown; Thor had to run down the first hall and most of the second before he got close enough to call his brother’s name. Loki stopped but didn’t turn, instead trading a glance with Jahanna and Tikalukatal. Thor saw Jahanna squeeze Loki’s hand, then she and the dragon rounded the corner and vanished.

Leaving Thor alone with Loki.

Loki turned slowly to face him, eyes half-lidded and bored. “Thor,” he said, and Thor could read nothing in his voice.

He came to a halt, suddenly unsure of himself, feeling strange and awkward and more aware than ever of the chasm that gaped between them. He said, “Loki—Brother—” Stopped himself, chewing his lip for a moment before trying again. Swallowed his pride and said in a rush, “I am sorry.”

Loki’s expression didn’t change, but there was something dark and dangerous in his voice when he said, “For what?”

Thor gestured helplessly. “I’ve wronged you,” he said, tripping over the words, wishing he’d half Loki’s gift with speech. “I don’t—I never meant—”

“Oh,” Loki said softly, the void in his voice. “I thought I imagined those slights.”

It took him a moment to remember: standing on a mountain on Midgard, staring at a Loki mad beyond his understanding, saying you take this world I love as recompense for your imagined slights. He said, “I’m sorry, brother, I shouldn’t have said that—”

“No,” Loki whispered, broken glass and jagged edges and the void yawning between them. “You shouldn’t have.”

Thor didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how he could bridge that terrible abyss to reach his brother. Remembered Agent Romanoff’s words, ask him, and then listen when he tells you. Didn’t try to hide the pleading in his voice when he said, “Is there anything I can do?”

Red eyes met his and Thor could see tears in them, freezing where they touched Loki’s cheeks. Loki flashed a smile, bright and mad and broken. “You can leave me alone.”

Thor bit his tongue, forced back everything he wanted to say. Listen when he tells you. Just for tonight, he told himself. Tomorrow, after they’d all had a chance for some real sleep. After they’d had time to recover from the war and its aftermath. Then he’d try again, then he’d be able to reach Loki. He made himself say, “If that’s what you wish, brother.”

“It is,” Loki said, and turned to leave.

The sudden sick feeling of a door slamming closed, the last frail thread of a bridge he hadn’t even known was there breaking, falling away into the darkness and Thor called, “Loki—!”

Loki paused, turned back slightly. Said pointedly, “Goodbye, Thor.”

Then he was gone, around the corner and out of sight, and it was several long seconds before Thor trusted his voice enough to whisper back, “Goodnight, Loki.”

Chapter Text

Tony set his binoculars on the balcony railing and leaned back on the chaise lounge, bathing in the dawn light. Asgardians apparently didn’t have coffee, but they did have some kind of rich tea and Tony had decided he didn’t much care about the name so long as it had caffeine in it. He’d managed to avoid a hangover by virtue of not wanting to get even close to drunk at the party last night, in case he missed something about his experience on another planet, and how awesome was it that he was here, eating breakfast on a balcony on the side of a golden castle, watching a sun that wasn’t Sol peek over a horizon that he was pretty sure was, in fact, not a horizon but the edge of the world. He’d tried to wake up Bruce to watch the sunrise with him, but when shaking the lump under the covers in Bruce’s room had produced nothing but a distinctly Hulkish growl, he’d decided to let sleeping green rage monsters lie. It just meant they’d have to convince Thor to let them stay another day, so that Bruce could—

Footsteps behind him interrupted his train of thought and he turned, hoping Bruce had woken up – but it was Steve, yawning and rubbing one eye. “You know,” Tony said, “we saved the universe. The war’s over. You’re allowed to sleep in.”

Steve smirked. “Says the man who’s apparently been up since… how long have you been up?”

“Come on,” Tony said, and waved an arm toward the rising sun. “You think I’m going to sleep through this?”

Steve snorted, but did stop at Tony’s shoulder to look out over the city. “It’s beautiful,” he admitted, then added wistfully, “Never thought a kid from Brooklyn would get to see something like this.”

Tony glanced up at him, but Steve’s eyes were still on the sunrise, and there was a wonder on his face that made him look younger, as young as he really was. After a long moment, the captain shook himself and looked away, moving abruptly to grab another chair and drag it over beside Tony’s. When he was settled, Steve asked, “How’s Barton?”

“What makes you think I have any idea?” Tony asked.

Steve just raised an eyebrow at him. “Do you?”

Tony glared, but since he did know – had checked with Natasha last night – he didn’t exactly have room to complain. “He’ll live,” he said. “And I know a good therapist, once we’re back on Earth.”

Steve nodded slowly; he looked as frustrated as Tony felt that there was nothing any of them could do about it, but this was something Barton would have to work through on his own. Finally Steve leaned forward to snag the binoculars, looking out over the city as Tony had. The destruction was even worse than New York, but already industrious Asgardians had begun to clear away debris. Sometimes a wail of grief would rise up through the air, and every time the sound tore at Tony’s heart – but there were also scattered cries of joy, when a lost loved one was found alive. He told himself that they’d done the best they could, they’d stopped the Chitauri and killed Thanos and saved the universe, and, just as when he stood on top of Stark Tower and surveyed his own destroyed city, it was almost enough.

Then Steve made a startled noise and sat up, pressing the binoculars closer to his eyes as he peered at something near the horizon. “Is that—” he started.

Tony followed his gaze. “Yup,” he agreed.

Steve lowered the binoculars to give Tony a sharp look. “Does that mean they’re—”

“Yup.”

“Thor’s not going to be happy.”

“Nope.” Tony looked again at the shape silhouetted against the horizon, then leaned back on the chaise, lacing his fingers behind his head and allowing a smile to touch his lips. “But I think Loki might finally be.”

* * *

Thor woke earlier than he was accustomed to, the sun slanting bright and obnoxious through the broken shutters over his window. His living quarters had not been too badly damaged, but a stray blast from a glider had taken out a chunk of shutter and window frame, and he hadn’t thought to cover it before falling asleep. He’d drunk more ale than had perhaps been wise last night, and his head ached dully in the sunlight. Still, he was home, in his own bed, and Loki was home as well, safe and alive and maybe still angry at Thor, but now that they were together again Thor could do something about it.

With that thought to prod him, he decided there was no sense in going back to sleep, and rolled out of bed. He washed and dressed with lazy indulgence; Midgard’s utilitarian showers were tolerable, but it was good to be back here, with proper baths and servants and fresh clothes. The bath took care of the hangover, hot water and scented herbs a familiar balm against the throbbing headache, and he lounged for a while, reveling in it. When he was finally presentable he sent a servant to prepare breakfast, then ambled down the hall to knock on the door to Loki’s rooms.

That he didn’t get an answer on the first knock did not surprise him. Loki had worked incredible feats of both magic and stamina yesterday, and Thor would not blame him for sleeping so heavily. But the second knock also failed to produce a response, and the third, and finally Thor leaned against the door and called, “Loki?”

No answer.

Thor frowned. Loki had never been one for early rising – if he was ever awake early in the morning it was because he hadn’t yet gone to sleep – and Thor couldn’t think of a reason why his brother would be out and about already. He thumped hard on the door with his fist one last time, then said loudly, “Loki, I’m coming in.” Still no answer, and as the first flickers of unease twisted his stomach, Thor turned the handle and pushed open the door.

For all that Loki was fastidiously neat with his person, he was notoriously untidy with his belongings (many an argument between them had stemmed from Thor calling Loki messy and Loki pointing out that he knew exactly where everything was, thank you very much). But his rooms, as Thor paced through them, had been carefully straightened from the disorganized jumble they’d been in since Loki had (not died, he was alive and Thor would never again have to mourn his brother) fallen. Frigga, in her grief, had prevented the servants from doing anything more than dusting around the chaos – yet the books that had lain in haphazard piles now stood in neat rows on the bookshelves, the clothes dropped on the floor had been picked up and put away, and the clutter of magical tools and trappings that had threatened to spill off every flat surface had been straightened. Even the bed had been carefully made – or rather, since Loki never made his bed, had not been slept in.

Thor’s unease swelled into full-blown fear. The unnatural neatness gave Loki’s rooms the feeling of a museum, a precisely arranged and preserved display not meant to be lived in. Loki himself was not there, nor was there any sign of his two companions. And once Thor started looking, he realized that a few of Loki’s more valuable possessions were missing: a set of tiny silver measuring scales, made to exact specifications for use in magical rituals; a few jars and bags of the rarest spell components Loki had spent months or years pursuing; some of the journals where he’d kept notes and records of his research.

Thor spun toward the door to the hall, intending to chase down the nearest servant and demand to know where his brother had gone—and froze.

Sitting on a table beside the door, clearly arranged to be noticed only when an intruder had turned to leave, was Loki’s golden helm. Beneath it sat a heavy ornate ring – the seal of the throne of Asgard, which Odin had thought lost when Loki fell. Thor’s heart froze in his chest, his throat closing on his next breath.

Loki hadn’t said goodnight.

He’d said goodbye.

Thor dashed out of the room. There were windows along the hall, and a few holes where the Chitauri attack had broken through the great walls. He spun Mjölnir on its strap and flung himself out into the air, across the city toward the Bifrost. Heimdall would know where to find Loki, Heimdall would tell him—

—and then Thor saw what stood at the end of the Bifrost.

An elegant round archway, tall enough for a mounted knight – or a giant – to step through unhindered, wrought of gold and carved with draconic runes. A faint blue shimmer rippled in the space beneath the arch, the only hint of its true nature. Thor could see Loki’s understated elegance in the curve of the metal, could see his precise calligraphy in the runes. Heimdall stood in front of the arch as he had stood in front of his observatory, hands gripping his sword, golden eyes fixed on a distance only he could see.

Thor landed hard on the rainbow bridge and strode the last few steps to Heimdall. “Where is he?” Thor demanded, and could not stop his voice from breaking. “Where’s my brother?!”

“Gone,” Heimdall said calmly.

“Where?!” Thor demanded, and only just stopped himself from grabbing the man and shaking him.

Heimdall did not answer.

Thor did grab him then, but when the Steward of Asgard chose not to move, no force in the Nine Realms could shift him. A sob choked Thor and he let go, falling to his knees at Heimdall’s feet. “Please,” he whispered, and could not care that he was begging. “Please, tell me where he is.”

It seemed to take an age for Heimdall’s focus to settle on him, the full weight of his gaze coming to bear on Thor, on his soul, steady and ancient as the world tree. “No.”

Grief and loss and pain and a heart shattered, and Thor howled his anguish to the uncaring stars.

* * *

The view from Emrub’s toroid was spectacular: lush green trees and shining rivers under a broad blue sky dotted with fluffy clouds. In the center of the view an adolescent Eliatrope boy, towheaded and wearing a bright blue fox-eared hat, leaped from portal to portal through the air. His brother, a white dragon not yet grown bigger than he, flew alongside, laughing with him over some shared joke. Above them soared another dragon, green and ancient and venerable, who watched the youngsters with fond amusement.

Loki turned back to where Baltazar sat on the surface of the planetoid below; Jahanna and Tikalukatal turned a moment later. Baltazar held the Infinity Gems in one crabbed forefoot, and his Eliacube hovered beside him. He said solemnly, “Yugo is still very young. He has done much and suffered much, but also has much left to learn.” The dragon’s wakfu-blue pupils fixed on Jahanna. “Teach him what it means to be an Eliatrope.” Then he met Loki’s eyes. “And teach him what it means to be a king.”

Loki bowed, deep and respectful, and Jahanna bowed with him. It was a great responsibility indeed, and Loki was well aware of the honor it represented. He would not let the dragon down.

Baltazar smiled, and with his free hand called on the Eliacube beside him. The air shimmered and a portal spun into existence in the center of the toroid, overlaying the view of Yugo and the dragons. Jahanna caught Loki’s hand in hers, flashing him an excited smile. “Ready?” she asked.

Loki nodded. Someday, perhaps, he would return to the Nine Realms, to Asgard. When he could stand in the golden city, among the golden people, without feeling like an impostor. When he could look upon Odin and remember more than the Other’s dead slithering fingers on his neck, more than the agony of his soul ripped to shreds over and over while Chitauri laughed. When he could look at Frigga and believe that she had ever felt aught but disgust to see him, the monster she’d been forced to raise alongside her true son.

When he could look at Thor and decide whether he wanted him to suffer as Loki had suffered, a lifetime of loneliness and inadequacy, of neglect and pain and torment; or whether he wanted to sit shoulder to shoulder with him as they had when they were young, feet dangling off a high balcony, passing a jug of wine back and forth and talking about nothing and everything until the sun rose over the starry horizon.

Someday, when he had healed.

Tikalukatal rested a hand on his shoulder, and Loki met the dragon’s gaze. Whatever Tikalukatal saw in his soul must have been enough, because his grip tightened for a moment. Loki gripped the dragon’s shoulder in return, then squeezed Jahanna’s hand.

Someday he’d return to the Nine Realms.

But for now, he had the entire universe to explore.

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