Not Forgotten

by Wunderlass

Summary:

A girl without a past. A girl whose only memories cannot be real. She's in SHIELD's hands now, but the past will catch up with her soon enough, and the whole world may suffer for it.

Chapter 1: Tabula rasa

Tabula Rasa

Great. Apples again. Asta hated apples.

She didn't know much about herself. She liked the colour turquoise. She didn't like jazz. She always wanted to chase rainbows when they appeared, and the sight of them inexplicably made her want to cry. She wasn't even sure what her real name was, but she knew she hated apples.

She moved the chopped pieces aside and picked at the other food on her tray; toast and a little pot of jam and a bottle of orange juice. The tiny jam jar reminded her of the pots you got in hotels for breakfast, though she couldn't ever remember staying in a hotel. At least now they'd moved her into this room, out of the tiny little cell that had been her home for weeks, and she could see the sky again. The window didn't open and the bars across it reminded her of all that time she'd gone without being able to see the outside world, but when the sun had splashed pink and gold across the horizon at dawn it made it all better. It had washed away the remnants of the dream that chased her out of sleep—the dream where…

No. Best not to think about it.

She didn't know why they were so obsessive about keeping her under lock and key. She had nowhere to go, no way of surviving away from them. She was fairly sure she'd convinced them her state of tabula rasa was no game, no lie, and that was how she'd gained window privileges. She couldn't pose a threat to them, small and untrained as she was. She'd seen the warriors at their disposal, the soldiers in black, twice her width and half her height again. Even now one guarded her door day and night, waiting to see if her status changed. She almost wished it would, one of these days. That would break her free of this stifling routine: four walls, one window, a bed, a desk, and a television.

Asta didn't turn on the television in the mornings. It no longer entertained her, or educated her as it had when she'd first been brought to this room. Instead, she read, books being brought to her alongside her breakfast, small stacks that she devoured after the food, blissful pages that swallowed the hours. Curled on the bed she could escape this room and the small patch of scrubby land outside the glass. She could travel the world, travel other worlds, and live as many lives as the words would allow.

They'd given her a clock and a calendar, institutional in their lack of design—what for, she didn't know. It didn't matter what time it was or what day it was. Since they'd taken her from the hospital, they controlled her life, and all her days were the same. Today it was June the 12th. A Tuesday. Tuesdays were no different from Mondays, or Wednesdays, in her eyes. If she ignored the time slipping past, she could ignore the quiet panic that her life was dripping by, wasting away while she waited in her prison. This was all the life she knew. This couldn't be the only life she ever knew.

---

The snick of the lock turning pulled Asta away from the bathroom mirror. The sight of her own face wasn't something she'd recognised at first, though she was learning it now: thin and pale with big eyes that seemed too large, the blue of the sky at dusk. The few times her mind had unlocked anything that she might rely upon as a real memory had been when she was staring into the glass, trying to burrow her way into the truth behind those eyes, and so sometimes she couldn't resist trying again.

She waited beside the desk for the door to open. This was outside the routine, but it was hard to get excited. Sometimes this happened, little deviations to check she wasn't hatching an escape plan inside the room, or destroying the facilities.

In the doorway was an agent, suited, neat-haired, stood in that trained way with feet together and shoulders back. He was shorter than the soldiers, and a little older too. She'd never seen him before. "Good afternoon, Asta. I'm Agent Coulson."

"Hello." She tried to be polite to the people she met—she never knew when she might gain an ally. Hostility certainly wouldn't get her anywhere.

Agent Coulson gave her a slight smile, a smile she believed. She preferred it to the blankness of the usual soldiers. "I've just arrived at this particular facility and would like to speak with you. Would you mind accompanying me to a meeting room?"

She nodded her acquiescence, as if she really had a choice in the matter. She knew from the television that the rooms she was questioned in were really called interrogation rooms, but they always acted like no one else was watching on the other side of the mirrored walls. She followed Agent Coulson down the windowless corridor, soldiers ahead and soldiers behind, then into an elevator and onto another corridor, as blank as the soldiers' eyes.

As they walked she drew out one of the maybe-true memories. In this one, she was a child, and there were other children, girls who looked like her, their dark hair waist-length and streaming out behind them as the ran around the fenced-in garden. There was nothing out of the ordinary here, no monsters or myths. That was why she thought it was a true memory—but it could have been as invented as any of them. She tried to focus on it, to grasp it and coax out its secrets, but it was oily as a fish and always slipped her grasp.

She knew the routine when they reached the room: she sat on one side of the table and the agent took the other. He sat perfectly straight in the chair, though he rested his hands on the table in front of him, loosely overlapping them. Neat, like the rest of him. She fought the urge to fidget with her hair. It had grown three inches since she'd been here, close to waist-length now. She doubted she'd be granted a haircut if she asked for one, and for some reason her mind urged her not to cut it anyway.

"You've been here a while," Coulson began. "I've heard a lot about you."

"There's not much to hear."

"Perhaps not, but you're a mystery, and everyone likes a mystery." The way he spoke to her was new—he wasn't overtly hostile, and neither did he patronise her. All too often the agents spoke to her like a child, acting like she'd lost years of age instead of merely her past. Coulson seemed aware that she was an adult. There was a kindness to him she trusted in.

"And you've come to try and solve me?"

"While I would like to hope so, I don't believe you're going to be as easy to piece together as a jigsaw puzzle. People are rarely that simple. However, I may have the first clue."

Asta didn't respond, going perfectly still in her chair.

"How do you know Donald?" Coulson asked.

"Donald?" she parroted. The only Donald she could remember was a cartoon duck. Not something she'd seen on the television here, though. Something from before. One of those infuriating cultural memories that seemed to have accumulated in her head, the only remnants of her real memory. "Do I know him?"

"We have evidence that says you came from the same place he did."

"You do?" Excitement fizzed inside her; had they found someone who knew her? Finally? Would this Donald be able to restore her identity, give her a name, fill her up with truth and more than mere fragments?

"We were hoping you could answer that."

The hope deflated. "Can't Donald?"

"Donald is not within our reach right now."

"Oh."

"You know, you sound like Donald. You sound English."

Asta stared at Coulson. She knew where England was, she'd watched a few TV shows set there. The link between the way the characters in those shows spoke and her own accent had never been apparent to her, but now it was pointed out to her, it was obvious. Yet England seemed so very foreign, so other. So very far away.

"I've listened to the tapes," Coulson continued. "You didn't have the accent at first. It's got stronger as you've been with us, but before you had the chance to be influenced by the outside world." Asta frowned. She hadn't even been aware of altering how she spoke. "I must confess, I believe you. Some agents remain convinced you're faking the amnesia, but I don't, and your accent clinches it for me. I mentioned Donald because I hoped to get a reaction—either by giving yourself away if you were faking, or for your memory to be jogged if you weren't. That clearly hasn't happened. Should I try it again with Donald's real name?"

Being believed was a new thing, a reaction for Asta to treasure, but the rest of Coulson's speech made her head spin. "I don't know."

"Apparently his name is Thor."

"Thor?" That wasn't even a real name—that was like a name from a book or a movie. And yet, in her head, little twinges were happening.

Coulson nodded. "I want to help you, Asta. I believe if we can unlock your memory, you'll be able to give us information that will be beneficial to everyone." At the mention of her memory, Asta tasted apples again. "When you have your memory back, we can reunite you with the people who love you. Someone out there must be missing you and want you home."

"I hope so." It was a hope she'd buried away in all these months hidden away, believing anyone she belonged to would have come to claim her by now. Someone had to be missing her, searching for her, and if the people who held her were looking for information about her they'd meet in the middle. Those girls in her memory, the girls with her hair—they couldn't just be reflections her mind had invented to ease the loneliness. Those girls had to be real, sisters or cousins or anything more than fragments of herself.

"And when you can remember who you are, we can find them," Coulson said. "We have new techniques to try—methods that won't hurt you, but we need you to cooperate for them to work. In return, you help us. I promise you we're the good guys. You'll be in my care throughout and if anything we try is uncomfortable and upsetting, we can move on. Do you want to try?"

Despite his impassive face, there was so much kindness in him. When he told her they were the good guys, she was inclined to believe him. After all, they'd kept her fed, kept her alive, hadn't laid a finger on her even when they were convinced she was lying to them. And the promise of being able to remember who she was again. No more blank slate.

Ugh. Apples again.

"Yes. Yes, I want to try."

Notes:

A/N: I'm writing about a chapter a day of this and have a stockpile so I hope to update twice a week...it's not going to be War and Peace, either. I only work on what happened in the films (or Wiki research) as I've never read the comics. It's going to be AU for the Avenger's movie timeline, so not everything is going to be as it happened on screen.

Thanks to TrixieTropical, Le Rameau and Silver Sniper for pre-reading.

I haven't posted this with the name of the Avenger's character it mostly relates to, because it does kind of give some of the story away. However, it is signposted in this chapter, and if it annoys you because you've come to read a particular character and want to filter out stories not relating to them, tell me and I'll amend that.

Chapter 2: Myths and Monsters

Flames dancing on fingertips. "Do it again, do it again!" A low chuckle, and this time sparks followed, miniature fireworks cartwheeling through the air in front of her in a shower of green and gold.

"Again!" Now her voice wasn't a little girl's anymore, the command stripped of childish excitement but still full of awe. The fist unfurled to produce a bloom of white roses, shining in the darkness. "For my Asta," he whispered, and she searched the night for his face.

---

That name. It was all she knew about herself, and it came from one of those memories. One of the ones she'd probably invented for herself. No one could produce roses out of thin air or make firework displays with their fingertips. It meant, when it came down to it, she didn't really know anything about herself.

And yet. It wasn't just that single false memory—the name fit her, like she'd been called it hundreds of times over her life. She hoped she had. If even that was false, then Coulson had no chance of ever finding anyone searching for her.

"Aren't you getting frustrated yet?" she asked him. They were in the suite her sessions were held in. Dr Mabb, the psychologist in charge of her sessions, was off searching for an old set of notes.

"Are you?"

"A little."

"Only a little?"

"Okay…a lot." She nodded to the calendar in the corner. "It's been six months. That's two sessions a week, for twenty-six weeks, and we still don't even know if Asta is my real name." Six months of hypnosis and visualisation and random attempts at experimental therapy techniques, and her past remained as empty as it had ever been. The dreams, though, they came after every single session.

"I'll admit I was expecting more progress. Dr Mabb's symbolism theory didn't lead us anywhere." A month into the sessions, they'd started delving into Asta's dreams. She'd been afraid to bring up the monsters that hunted her at night but she'd been losing sleep and Coulson, ever-vigilant, had noticed. Dr Mabb's theory had been that her nightmares could be interpreted to help them unlock her memories, the monsters symbols of whatever she was repressing, but they'd got nowhere with that. "Do you know what I think? I think you're too fixated on believing what you remember."

Coulson's face was carefully blank. Did he know how she worried about her mind? Hearing monsters, seeing monsters, believing monsters existed, didn't happen to normal people. She understood the words psychosis and delusion. She understood what it meant to experience them, and her mind was all she had. What would happen to her if she didn't even have that? Was he trying to get her to trip up, to admit to him that the dreams were leaking into her waking life, so they could diagnose her and fill her with drugs and strip her of everything?

"Well, nothing I think I remember is believable."

"And maybe that's blocking you from moving forwards. What you talk about under hypnosis is exactly what you describe to us when you discuss your dreams. Yet you seem unwilling to accept that maybe there's a truth to them. Perhaps not the full truth, but if you stop trying to force things and accept what your mind is showing you, we may finally get somewhere."

He looked guileless, as always. Coulson had been so kind to her, had been the only person in this whole organisation who had ever shown anything other than curiosity or hostility towards her. She'd trusted him so far—and did she really have any other choice than to continue trusting him?

"Did you ever find out where Donald was from?"

Another of those inscrutable expressions crossed Coulson's face. "Donald? There's someone we haven't discussed for a long time."

"Well, did you?"

Coulson paused. "Unfortunately, it's not something I have clearance to discuss."

"But you did, didn't you? That's why you're persisting with me, even though nothing seems to be working. It's why you seem to want me to believe…whatever it is you want me to believe."

"Unlikely as this may seem, I do have your best interests at heart. Your link to Donald is intriguing, and it's certainly something we need to pursue, but I've managed to keep certain aspects of your case away from people who would be more ruthless in their quest for information. I have a mission, a mission I believe in, but I'm also aware that you're a young woman who's clearly been through a lot before you ended up with us. I'd like to complete my mission without causing you anymore distress."

Asta was taken aback—it was the most Coulson had ever said at once. He didn't appear anymore earnest than usual, but she unexpectedly found tears pricking at her eyes. Whatever agency she'd found herself in the hands of—and she still had no idea who they were—Coulson was trying to protect her. Her, a shell of a person. She knew, just from the television, what kind of things groups like this could do to a girl like her. She could vanish off the face of the earth, be locked in a cell like the one she'd spent her first months in, for the rest of her life. She'd never see sunlight again. Whatever they had to do to get the information they wanted out of her, they'd do, and she would have no power to stop it, and the worst part was she didn't even have the information. Coulson was keeping her shielded from all of that.

"Thank you," she whispered. He just nodded, one simple down and up of the head.

"What made you think about Donald?" he asked after a few more minutes, when it became clear Dr Mabb wasn't returning any time soon.

"I read something yesterday."

His lips twitched into a half-smile. "You read something everyday, Asta. We're having to dip into emergency funds to buy you books. But I suppose this was something in particular?"

"It was a book about Norse mythology. It reminded me of the name you said Donald gave you."

Coulson's face had now gone extraordinarily empty, his eyes focused on some point on the wall. "How so?"

"You said he called himself Thor. Except, Thor was a Norse god. A myth. There's no way this man could be a god."

"That's certainly a logical conclusion to come to."

"Then why mention it to me? You were looking for a reaction from me when you said that name, like I'd recognise it."

"I was hoping to prove you knew Donald. It was clear to me after we spoke that if you did, you couldn't remember it."

Asta bit her lower lip, worried it till she thought it might bleed, trying to keep the next question inside when she knew she had to voice it. "Was he delusional?"

"No, he was not. And before you ask, we don't believe you are either."

Strangely, that didn't reassure her. "You're saying he gave his name as a god's but you believed he was sane, and I talk about monsters and magic but you think there's nothing wrong with me either?"

"I've learned to keep an open mind with the work I do. I think your fear of being judged as insane, or even your fear of really being insane, has held you back. I'll give you what answers I can, in time, but for now we'll continue what we do here. I'm going to recommend that you learn to meditate, as that should help you open up, but you need to stop self-editing. Let us be the judge of reality."

Despite the reassurance, Asta left the session worried exactly whose hands she was in. If anything, she needed to be clinging to reality tighter than ever. Coulson's words just left her feeling like she hung on the edge of a void, and one wrong step would leave her tripping headfirst into it.

Chapter 3: Fresh air

So dark. An artificial darkness, with no stars above, the taste of the air dry and stale. She's inside, the blackness closing around her like a fist. She knows she has to move, that something is in here with her, but she doesn't know where she is even supposed to go, and how is she going to get there? There are no sounds to follow, she has no sight. All she has is that insistence in her spine, the prickling along her skin, that if she doesn't move, if she doesn't find her way out of here, it will find her and she'll lose everything.

---

"You should have stayed in bed, little girl." The voice came from nowhere and everywhere. Cold amusement dripped from the words as they echoed round the clearing.

She was so small, the trees around her stretching up so far, twisted black columns that reached for the night sky. She couldn't find the owner of the voice among all the shadows they cast.

Until the saw the eyes. Red, gleaming, just a few feet away. Then came the glint of pale starlight on bared teeth, and Asta knew the voice was right.

"I'm not afraid," she lied, balling up her fists. The teeth were at her throat a second later.

---

Coulson wasn't alone at Asta's door when he arrived to take her to the session that morning. Beside him stood a young woman with blood red hair and a sharp gaze, wearing the black uniform all the soldiers wore.

"Asta, this is Agent Romanoff. She's observed some of our previous meetings and believes a change of scenery may help trigger your mind."

Romanoff did not have Coulson's kind demeanour. She was one of the few women Asta had seen in the compound, but she wasn't anticipating girl bonding to be on the agenda. The guns she wore at her hips were not discreet and she seemed far more interested in scanning Asta's room with her perceptive gaze than engaging in greetings.

The presence of the new agent distracted Asta from Coulson's words. "Change of scenery? Are we going to a different room?"

"We're going outside."

She took in his strange choice of clothes: jeans and a plaid shirt, so different from his usual suit. He gestured for Asta to begin walking and she stumbled along, gaping at him. "You mean, for a walk around outside the compound? Fresh air?" Romanoff must've been following them, but Asta couldn't hear her moving.

"No, I mean we're taking a trip into town."

---

Asta didn't speak again until they were on the road in a huge van which had its black paint buffed to a mirror-like sheen. She was flanked by the two agents, though she wasn't in any way restrained. Coulson seemed to be treating it like a regular thing, while Asta knew Romanoff's hand wasn't resting on her thigh out of comfort—she was ready to draw her gun if she needed to. The world rolling past was alien, scrubby desert, something she only recognised from the television. This wasn't her natural habitat; she fancied her world featured a lot more greenery. This wasn't even the kind of desert she'd seen on the TV, with acres of shifting sands and the heat rising from the earth so thick it could be seen. Instead, this was pale, stony land, what plant-life there was as viciously spiny as the spires of rock that sprouted along the route. A merciless landscape, one you could only survive in if you knew it well. Asta wouldn't last a day.

"What exactly are we going to do?" she asked Coulson, pulling herself from her musings about the possibility of freedom.

"We're going to do some everyday activities—visit the diner, go to the grocery store, see what else there is to do. We hope that these things will feel familiar to you and allow other, related memories to come through."

"I suppose if I try to sneak off anywhere, Agent Romanoff's job is to retrieve me?"

Romanoff didn't even blink, and Coulson gave that small smile. "I told you she was intelligent," he said to his colleague.

"Is this trip out a way of testing to see if I do try to escape, then?" Asta continued.

Coulson's smile widened and Romanoff turned her stare towards Asta. "I'll be observing you," Romanoff confirmed. Her fingers twitched on her thigh. Asta doubted she ever missed a target. She seemed the efficient type.

"If this is too overwhelming, let me know and we'll return to the base," Coulson said. Asta nodded and stared back out at the landscape. They turned off the narrow road onto a wider slash of asphalt with two lanes, big green signs giving town names and miles to reach them. "We probably should have blindfolded you so you don't know exactly where the base is, but I'm sure you know not to share that information. It's a matter of great importance to national security that we aren't compromised."

"Understood." It wasn't like Asta wanted to spend the rest of her life in the basement cell, and blabbering was the surest way to end up back there.

Other cars passed by, one white ambulance speeding in the opposite direction. "I was found in this kind of area," she said, more for confirmation than anything. What she could piece together even from the beginning of her memories was scattered, fragments that didn't quite fit together. A circle in the sand, erratic patterns blasted in the soil and the imprint where her own body had lain. The overly bright, pristine white of the hospital, and the endless questions and endless faces. An agent with a hypodermic needle and a pitiless expression. But it had all started on the desert floor, a place she didn't belong.

"Yes, you were. Not in this area precisely, but it would look similar."

She'd been in a dress: she remembered that from the mirror at the hospital. Satin that looked like liquid gold, ankle length, arms bare, torn to rags. Strange how she'd forgotten about the dress until now. She wondered what had happened to it; she wondered where it had come from in the first place. It had to be one of the details that brought her to the agency's attention in the first place.

Today she wore the same thing as she always did, the items they loaned her—black t-shirt, black trousers in some kind of stretchy material, black boots. Add guns of her own and she could fit in beside Romanoff. Still, it was better than an orange jumpsuit.

This was going to be an interesting experiment, whether it helped with her memories or not. She doubted the real life she was about to sample in any way matched what she'd once thought of as real life, but she'd relish this small taste of freedom, her reintroduction to the world, and try not to give Romanoff any reason to stretch her trigger finger.

Chapter 4: Shooting stars

“Shooting stars are angels falling to Earth, sweetheart. If you see one, you should make a wish.” A woman’s voice, a hand pointing to a streak of light across the sky. “But it’s getting late, and you need to sleep.”

Waking up and tiptoeing to the window, like she did every night, hoping to see another angel and make another wish. She wasn’t really sure what a wish was. She thought it was like asking mummy for another sweetie, or to wear her blue dress to nursery, only she didn’t ask mummy. And tonight there it was, shooting across the night, a vein of fire against all the other stars. It kept falling, burning brighter, brighter still, until it fell to Earth in the woods behind the house.

She wasn’t supposed to go out alone. If she wasn’t in the house or the garden, then she had to be holding mummy or daddy’s hand. But this was an angel. Angels were good. Angels granted wishes. If she went and spoke to the angel, and said please and thank you, then surely it would do what she asked.

Creeping across the carpet, she reached for the door handle—

---

“Asta. Asta. You need to wake up.” A gentle voice insisted. The wrong voice. Only one person ever called her Asta and he…

She opened her eyes. The thought fled with the invasive light, and she found Coulson stood at the foot of her bed, fully dressed. For a moment she wondered if she’d overslept, but a glance at the window showed it was still fully dark outside.

“Hmwhat?” she managed, flinching back from the overhead light.

“We have a situation and we need to leave this base. I need you to dress and be ready to leave in the next few minutes.”

By the time she’d regained the ability to control her mouth, Coulson was already on the other side of the door. She was too woozy-headed to even think about what was going on, stumbling into the bathroom and then around the room for her clothes. She knocked when she was ready and the door swung open. The corridor was deserted, but she could hear activity echoing down from other parts of the building. For the first time since she’d met him, Coulson was visibly armed.

If that didn’t wake her up, nothing would.

She followed him without waiting for more information. He didn’t run, exactly, but his pace wasn’t slow, and she was breathless as they took the stairs down, two at a time, to the underground garage. There were dozens of other people around here, in suits like Coulson’s or the soldiers’ black uniforms. Boxes were being hauled into trucks, and she could hear the irrhythmic stomping of boots echoing down all the corridors that led here. This was weird. In all their trips out of the compound, there had always been two of the agents with her—Coulson and Romanoff, or Romanoff and one of the nameless soldiers. The attention had always been on her, but this time it was just Coulson, the other soldiers all to busy, and he seemed more focused on bundling her into a car. The driver was already accelerating out into the desert as she buckled in.

“What’s going on?” she finally whispered. Theirs wasn’t the only car heading out across the scrub—the entire bases’ fleet seemed to be crawling across the desert like overgrown beetles.

“We’ve been compromised,” Coulson replied. He was quietly inputting a message into a tiny device—a phone, Asta guessed—and she waited for him to continue, but he never did.

They were going in the complete opposite direction to the town they went to on their trips out. It’d been a while, actually, because Coulson was only around for a few days each month and Romanoff only checked in occasionally. She hadn’t realised how much she missed the outside world until her excursions into it were curtailed. Without Coulson around, no one else was much interested in an amnesiac. Now she wondered how much of the outside world she could handle, because compromised made it sound like they wouldn’t be going back to the base.

The ground rumbled beneath her and at first she thought it was the car engine, but the sensation grew until she turned around to stare out of the back window. Dust billowed up into the air around the compound, one wave after another, and she realised she was witnessing sections of the buildings being swallowed by the earth.

In one fireball that engulfed the view, the base ceased to exist.

“Oh,” was all she could manage, any profanity or blasphemy she might be tempted by stolen with her breath. Besides her, Coulson went absolutely still.

She was ashamed of her next reaction, the idle thought that her favourite books—the ones she’d never given back—were still piled up beside her bed. And then she realised that she didn’t know if everyone had made it out of there before the explosion, and what if they hadn’t? She didn’t want to look at Coulson; she didn’t want to look in the rearview mirror at the retreating flames. She wouldn’t really miss that book about Norse mythology—it could be replaced. But perhaps she’d miss the compound. It was, after all, the only home she could remember knowing.

Notes:

The story is slightly AU from the Avengers, in some places more than others. That means Coulson had different priorities the night Loki arrived and snatched the Tesseract than he did in the film--namely, getting Asta safely out.

Chapter 5: Mercy

The clearing again, the monster still stalking her. Red eyes in the shadows.

“You should have stayed in bed, little girl.”

From behind her this time, but the red eyes kept watching. Trapped between two of them—the one with all those teeth, and the one whose face was a slash of terror in the moonlight. Cold, pale and cruel.

---

“You should have listened, little girl. This is no world for you.”

Utter darkness, her senses as good as broken, and the same scarlet eyes from years before waiting up ahead. If she turned, the pitiless one would be waiting too.

“I’ll do whatever I have to,” she replied to the shadows, and she almost sounded brave.

The laughter that echoed around her definitely belonged to the merciless man.

---

When Asta woke, the world was a changed place. Or at least, her world was. Instead of the peace of her room, the thrum of engines vibrated up through the floor and the cot she lay on. She had no window, though the walls were the same industrial-white, and she’d lost space, reduced to just the cot and room to pace. It wasn’t a cell, or so Coulson promised, but she doubted she had any more control over her circumstances than she did before.

Sleep had taken a long time to come. When they seemed to be reaching the edge of the desert Coulson had offered her a choice: a blindfold or a needle full of something that would knock her out for hours. She’d picked the blindfold, but it wasn’t the kind you could peek out the bottom of—the world had been utter black from the moment it was on until she was deposited on this cot. She couldn’t know, even after all these months, where they were taking her. Coulson believed her, Romanoff believed her, hard as that was to swallow, but the wider organisation had yet to be convinced.

All she knew was they were on some kind of ship, and they’d got here by helicopter. Whether the ship was aerial or nautical, she wasn’t sure—sometimes she could feel the Earth rocking below her, the telltale motion of waves, and then sometimes she felt the pressure building in her skull as if she were on an airplane during take-off. She wasn’t going to get answers, even if she asked. Even if there were anyone around to ask. She had a teeny-tiny en suite to take care of business, and meals came through a hatch in the wall. Books did not come with breakfast around here.

She missed the clock and the calendar she used to have, keeping her anchored to the here and now. The calendar had been replaced with the change in year—a Christmas gift—and Coulson had permitted her a personalised option. She’d plumped for fireworks. This month featured Catherine wheels pinwheeling above a harbour, marking a celebration of some kind.

Those images of exploding gunpowder were now ashes in the base they’d left behind. Without Coulson to ask, she had no idea if everyone had made it alive. Maybe this was better. Did she really want to know if anyone hadn’t?

She did jumping jacks and jogged on the spot when pacing became too monotonous, just to keep herself moving. When it was time for the tray swap at midday, she yelled through the hatch. “Could I get a magazine or something?”

She didn’t really expect her request to be fulfilled, but when dinner came, it came with a batch of reading material.

---

And so the hours passed, marked this time around only by the change in magazines. They were obviously whatever was left lying around on this ship they were on, the choice of the people who worked on it rather than handpicked for her. Still, she couldn’t complain. Something was better than nothing, and it amused her that the same people who’d kept her under such close guard for over a year now handed her back issues of Ammunitions Monthly without blinking. Reading was better than sleeping, because the dreams just twisted round each other now, a snarled mess of black and blacker. That face, the one she couldn’t even picture when she woke, lurked in every dark corner.

On the third day, the world went to hell again.

At first she thought it was a storm or insane turbulence, and she sat down on the cot and closed her eyes to calm her stomach. The wild rocking of the ship made it hard to stay on her feet anyway, and only when the cot began to slide across the floor did she panic, throwing herself into the bathroom and slamming the door shut. Everything in here was nailed down. It’d be safe until things calmed.

Except it didn’t seem like anything would be calming soon. She could hear explosions in the background, gunfire and a banging that reverberated up through the floor and into her skull. Whatever she was trapped in the middle of wasn’t just a little trouble with the weather. It felt a lot like war.

Above all that noise, the approaching footsteps were louder. She peered out of the bathroom, making sure nothing was going to crush her, and crouched by the hatch. She hoped it was Coulson, come to initiate yet another evacuation, and she was about to move to somewhere with a window. If this was a battle, there was every chance it wasn’t even her side coming to fetch her, but there was no point panicking. She had nowhere to retreat to, no weapons, only a wish and a prayer to rely on.

The door swung open, and it was Coulson alright. He looked as grim as she’d ever seen him, but rose from the crouch, ready to follow him wherever they were going. When his companion stepped into the room, she faltered, skittering back until her back hit the far wall, as far away as she could go.

He took up the full doorway, a grotesque shroud of leather body armour adding girth, though the height was all his own. His gaunt face was pale, choppy black hair slicked back, eyes fever bright, expression tight. She’d never been able to grasp the memory of his face outside her dreams, and now she remembered why she should never have tried. He wore cruelty so casually, and it twisted what should have been handsome features into something altogether more repellent.

He held a staff in his hand, the sharp tip aimed at Coulson, and Coulson turned apologetic eyes towards Asta. In turn, she could only open her mouth to scream. All her nightmares had found her.

Notes:

I made a YouTube playlist (queen of procrastination here!), and a Tumblr post with a few details about it, which I've linked to on my profile page.

Chapter 6: Blood loss

She silenced her own scream, swallowing the sound back down. Help wouldn’t come, couldn’t come, so why waste her breath? She couldn’t peel herself away from the wall, pushing back against it in a desperate attempt to be swallowed by it, molecule by molecule, and be away from here.

“Your assistance has been of great value,” the merciless man said, addressing Coulson. There was no sarcasm to his voice, or even much politeness, but there was a finality Asta didn’t like. She knew what was about to happen before he even moved, and that had her shoving away from the wall, instinct putting herself between Coulson and the staff. Its sharp edge scythed through her arm as they landed on the floor, but the burn of pain was worth it—it’d been aimed for Coulson’s belly.

“What have you done?” the man asked. She ignored him, focusing on the flow of hot blood spilling out over the white floor. More than she’d expected. Coulson was staring at the wound with open horror, but she dared not look. Gore always made her queasy. Coulson pushed her up, already removing his jacket to stem the flow.

Instead, he was tossed aside, and she was spun onto her back. He crouched above her, the staff still in hand, its bloodied tip resting on the floor next to her face. Strangely, some of the raw evil had leached from his face, and Asta would’ve sworn concern tugged at his mask. Blood loss could do strange things to perception.

“Silly girl,” he admonished, but his anger didn’t seem real. One hand wrapped around her wound, his skin a sweet chill against her own, and then she was consumed by whatever the hell was creeping through her flesh. Magic, her mind insisted, but that couldn’t be true. She hung onto that fact of reality even as she turned her eyes to the wound and watched the ragged edges of her skin knit themselves back together.

She stared up at him as some of the whiteness faded from the edges of her vision, and he stared back, his fingers tightening on her arm. His eyes didn’t seem so cruel this close. How could eyes with such a soft colour—the blue-green of the calmest lake—ever be anything but beautiful? His face lost its hard edge, his mouth softening from its harsh scowl, and she thought tenderness settled behind his stare, knocking the breath out of her with just how good he looked without the anger. Her fear dissolved, though her heart continued to pound, and she wondered just what her relationship with this man really was. The way her body recognised him, so differently to the way her mind did, set everything she could remember from the nightmares on its head.

It only lasted a moment, and Coulson broke the spell. He staggered up in her peripheral vision, and the man hauled Asta to her feet. She saw his arm twitch in preparation for another strike with the staff, and this time she caught it, twisting around so once again she was between them.

“Out of my way,” the merciless man snarled, his hand on her arm again, and this time she felt all the power coiled in there. He could throw her across the room with the flick of a wrist—yet he didn’t.

He did try to shake her off, but she refused to be moved.

“Asta…” Coulson said, “don’t get yourself hurt for me.”

The man snarled, and Asta resorted to begging. “Please, please, leave him alone!”

“Very well.” He caught her by the wrist, dragging her backwards, though the staff remained extended in Coulson’s direction. “Don’t try to follow us,” he instructed, and slammed the door shut. Coulson yelled from behind the door, but a blast of blue light from the staff buckled the metal shut, keeping him trapped.

She struggled to keep up with the man’s strides down the corridor, and he obviously had no intention of slowing for her. He didn’t even glance back at her. Twice a black-clad agent popped out of some hidey-hole and he blasted them with the staff, a jet of cyan blue sending them spinning away. She cried out and he didn’t flinch; all she could do was pray they were merely stunned.

When they took the last corner she thought they’d turn and head back down another corridor, because this couldn’t be where they were meant to be going. Up ahead, a gaping hole appeared in the exterior of the ship, the edges of the metal carcass fractured and torn. Beyond that, the sky.

Only he didn’t turn around, didn’t even slow, just kept pulling her towards that portal to nothingness, and even digging her heels into the floor made no difference to his pace. He carried her along like she were no more than a piece of ribbon tied around his arm, floating along behind him.

At the edge of the hole, a jet waited, the back doors propped open, but all she could focus on were the thousands of feet of air between her and the ground. Digging her heels in wasn’t an option anymore since her knees, and the rest of her legs, had apparently been relieved of their bones. She grasped a random fragment of the ship’s frame to steady herself, but her captor had no interest in her fear.

“Jump,” he commanded.

“I can’t,” she tried to say, the words stolen away by terror. Add this to the things she knew about herself: she did not like heights.

His nostrils flared, eyes narrowing, the pitiless expression from her dreams returning. She expected the command to come again, or for him to peel her fingers away from the ship and push. Instead, he stepped behind her, his frame dwarfing hers, and wrapped an arm around her waist, trapping her against him. Then he jumped, taking her with him.

Chapter 7: Black and blue

Asta didn’t open her eyes again until solid ground was beneath her and the rear door clanged shut behind them. The man released her waist and she staggered away, though there wasn’t really anywhere for her to go. This seemed to be a small cargo area, with a row of seats against one wall and a handful of black-clad soldiers braced against the other. When the jet jerked, she decided taking one of the seats was her safest bet.

“Have you heard from Selvig?” the man asked one of the soldiers, seeming to ignore Asta and apparently impervious to the motion of the jet.

The soldier’s eyes were the brightest shade of blue Asta could remember seeing. “He’s en route, ready to deploy.”

Glancing to her right, she caught sight of the ship they were leaving behind as the jet banked. It shimmered in the air, almost as if it wasn’t really there, and seemed to stretch on for miles, long and flat. She couldn’t figure out how it managed to stay in the air; it certainly didn’t match any plane she’d ever seen. “What is that?” she asked no one in particular.

The soldier closest to her glanced her way. “SHIELD’s helicarrier.” With a start, she noticed his eyes were the exact same shade as his comrade’s, and a quick survey of the other soldiers proved they all had that same eerie blue glow.

The man in black gave her a sharp look. “All this time you’ve been in their captivity, and you don’t know who they are?”

The longer he looked at her, the more familiar he seemed, the stronger the taste of apples on her tongue grew. “They didn’t answer many questions.”

“And yet, you feel allegiance for that agent. You’d give your life for his.”

“He’s been kind to me.”

With a few strides he was in front of her, hands either side of her face against the wall, so close the dark rims under eyes became vivid against his pallid skin. “Don’t you ever do that again, do you understand?” She nodded automatically, all her earlier fear flooding back. She was aware of his scent, leather and metal and unclean male, and it just increased her urge to get away from him, but she had nowhere to escape to. His proximity, the uncanny stares of the soldiers, the sceptre resting on the floor with her blood still smeared across the blade—it all had her skin crawling, the urge to scream and run away stronger in just a few minutes than it had been in nearly eighteen months with SHIELD.

Her terror seemed to appease the man. He rose to his full height and took a stand against the wall opposite her.

“Kindness is a weakness, and any apparent benevolence displayed to you by SHIELD was to manipulate you. They’re a tool of this government, hidden from the public and with the freedom to do anything they wish. They aren’t in the business of kindness.”

Asta resisted the urge to fold in on herself, away from his bold stare and harsh words. She shifted, pulling her knees up to her chest, and felt something digging into her hip.

“You screamed when you first saw me,” he continued, distracting her from whatever was tucked into the waistband of her pants. “Did you recognise me?” She weighed up how to explain to him that she did, and she didn’t. He interpreted the pause how he wanted. “Did they tell you all about the monster they’d caught? Is that why you were so afraid?” On the service his question was veiled in amusement, but she didn’t think the humour ran very deep. If anything, she caught a bitter bite to his tone.

“They didn’t tell me anything,” she said. “I didn’t recognise you, exactly, but I do a little. I don’t have many memories but I think you’re in some of them.” The words spilled out, the desperation for answers overriding any fear she felt.

All the humour leached from his expression. “You shouldn’t be able to remember me at all.”

Finally, a little confirmation that she had known him before she lost her memories. “Did you have something to do with why I can’t remember anything?”

Confusion furrowed his brow. “You can’t remember anything?” She shook her head. The terrifying mask of anger came back. “Your family, your childhood, all lost too? I was clearly too deeply entangled…not that it would matter to him.”

“I…I don’t understand.”

“No, I suppose you wouldn’t.” Such bitterness again. He was a mercurial creature, and that just left Asta even more on edge, waiting to see which way the wind would blow next.

He turned from her to begin a discussion with the pilot, and she shifted again, so she no longer had the corner of something cutting into her skin. She wanted to see what it was, since it wasn’t something she’d put there herself—she hadn’t even realised these pants had pockets—but doing so would only alert him or the soldiers, and she doubted that was a good idea.

“Not long now,” he said, and the amusement returned. “I’ve waited for this day for a very long time, you know.” She didn’t reply, staring down at her hands. “I noticed on the ship that the agent called you Asta. Is that what they know you as?”

“Is that not my name?”

“You don’t know even that?”

She shrugged. “It’s all I could remember.”

Something like triumph hovered at the edges of his smile. “It’s not your birth name, Alexandra, but it’s a name commonly bestowed on you.”

Alexandra. It meant nothing to her, not when she’d spent so long living with another name, but to have that small piece of her identity at last was so sweet. In light of it, her attachment to Asta didn’t make sense. “A nickname?”

“If you like. Or a title.”

That made her want to stop asking questions. Titles implies power. Having a title meant the chances of her being a simple girl with a brain injury caught up in circumstances beyond her control went from slim to none.

He noticed her reticence. “No more questions? We’re just getting to know each other again.”

The words ‘I don’t know you at all’ almost spilled out, but given his mood shifts it was unlikely to be a wise idea. “I don’t know who you are.”

“I am Loki,” he said, spreading his palms as if it should explain everything. And in a way, it did. Loki, brother of Thor in Norse mythology. God of lies and mischief. Gods and myths and monsters didn’t exist, but this man had been invading her dreams even after everything she knew about herself was stripped away. He might not be a god. Or he might be. Was this what Coulson had been trying to tell her all along?

“But how do I know you? Where do I fit into all of this?”

“Ah. Now there’s a story. Once upon a time, I was your imaginary friend.”

 

Chapter 8: Imaginary

“You seem incredulous,” Loki said, all amusement again. That was probably the best way to describe it. What child had a leather-clad sorcerer as their imaginary friend?

“Well, it doesn’t make sense. You can’t be imaginary if you’re real.” It was as if everything she’d believed until a few hours ago had been flipped around: imaginary things can’t be real, real things can’t be imaginary.

“Oh, I was never a figment of your imagination, but it was what the adults in your life deluded themselves with. It’s so easy to dismiss the stories of a child as nonsense.”

She should be doing the same thing, right down to the fact that this man was a god, but instead she felt the truth in his words. She’d held all this to be true once. Given all she’d seen, all the missing pieces in her story, she’d have to accept it as the truth again. She opened her mouth to speak, but the sceptre’s gleam from the corner of her eye made her think better of it.

“You were going to speak?” he prompted. She shook her head mutely. “You may as well go on. We have a little time to become reacquainted.” He seemed genuine—she would just need to watch her tongue.

“Why did I even have stories to tell?” she asked.

He flashed a smile, a wolf’s grin, and retrieved the sceptre, idly toying with it. “Why, indeed? You were always such a curious girl—and that is exactly what led you to me. You came hunting for a shooting star you’d seen, sneaking out of your parents’ house in the middle of the night like the wicked little thing you were, except there was no star. There was instead a drake that had stolen its way onto the Bifrost and found its way to this realm. You know what the Bifrost is?”

She nodded—the rainbow bridge between the different worlds. She had a brief vision of it, a wide path of colour streams that shone like glass across the night. She’d walked that bridge once. “I remember the shooting star,” she told Loki. “I thought it was a dream.”

“That was no dream. You were lucky I arrived when I did. I’d chased the drake all the way here and slew it before it did you any harm.”

“Was that benevolence, or were you going to kill it anyway?”

He chuckled. “It was as good as dead before it reached the Bifrost, but you did take some of the sport out of hunting it. Not that you seemed impressed by my heroics. You were a belligerent child, if more courageous than average. You refused to cower from the drake, and then you had the temerity not to bow to me either.” There was a complete lack of annoyance in his voice at this assessment, and though he tried to school his features to sternness, Asta detected an amused fondness in how he spoke.

“I remember your voice,” she said. “You told me I shouldn’t have been there.”

“Sound advice. Of course, you rarely took my advice.”

“Then you did magic.” They weren’t imaginary at all, the visions of sparks in midair. The miniature fireworks had really happened.

“Simple tricks that impressed you far more than any fight. You thought I was an angel—you were too young to grasp any concept of good or bad and placed your trust in me far too easily.” The fondness was evident now in the smile he wore, though it was tempered by a wicked delight.

“I must have pleased you somehow. If you were my imaginary friend, that means I saw you again.”

The smile vanished, replaced by a flicker of uncertainty that was swallowed by a sneer. “You were a distraction from the banalities of court, an excuse to return to this realm and be away from those who would watch my every action. Enough questions—why bother revisiting a past if you are unable to remember it?”

Despite his sharp words, she felt like she was the one who’d inflicted a wound, the way he was pouting now. She wrapped her arms around her knees and stared at a patch of floor, away from the scary god in his scary armour with his scary sceptre, or the freaky soldiers with their weird eyes. If there were somewhere to hide from his intense stare she’d have found it, but she was pinned where she was, and his attention never wavered. She could feel him watching her even as she stared at her legs, wishing for sleep or a distraction.

The crackle of static over an intercom endless minutes later shocked her out of her stupor, but didn’t relieve the tension in the cabin.

“Destination approaching, Sir. Landing procedures should commence.”

She glanced up, and Loki had risen back to his feet. “You need to fasten yourself in,” he instructed her, and she glanced around at the web of straps and buckles on the wall behind the seat. She fumbled until eventually one of the soldiers, busy fixing crates of cargo down, stepped over to assist her.

“Away,” Loki growled at the soldier, and Asta relinquished the straps so she didn’t accidentally touch Loki’s hands while he briskly fastened her in place. He didn’t look at her while he worked, and she held her breath until he’d finished, confused about how his scent affected her. It wasn’t exactly pleasant—it spoke of war and danger and terror—but at the same time, it was familiar to her. It evoked comfort and happiness and yes, even danger, but danger with a thrill to it. It didn’t match the man she’d met this afternoon.

He stepped away to take a seat of his own, issuing orders to the soldiers, who clustered around the rear doors. Asta gripped her seat as her stomach plummeted with the descent of the jet, an echo of things she’d experienced before. She gripped harder still at the jerk of the plane hitting the ground, only letting go when they taxied to a stop.

“You four, around her,” Loki ordered. “She must not be harmed.” Whatever her purpose here, he placed importance in her. He wasn’t on Earth randomly; he had a plan, and she must play some part in it, with how much care he was taking to make sure she remained safe. His expression when she lay bleeding on the floor—those wide eyes—hinted at motivations she squirmed away from.

The soldiers he’d spoken to surrounded her seat, forming a wall she couldn’t see through. She heard the drawing and cocking of weapons, a 1,2,3 count and the door being opened, while she held her breath and waited for gunfire.

“Coast’s clear,” someone announced.

Loki appeared to unbuckle her. “I need you to do what I want while we travel on to our destination. If you try to escape, or communicate with anyone outside our group, I’ll kill someone to make you behave. Do you understand?” He asked her this as if it was the most reasonable thing in the world. All her confusion about how he’d acted towards her, how her scant memories made her feel about him, dissipated in the face of his coldness. She nodded and waited for him to stride away before standing, to be swallowed again by the knot of soldiers.

The journey may as well have been shrouded in fog for her, she took so little of it in, and most of it was blocked by the men surrounding her. The jet had landed at a small airfield, then they’d all climbed into a waiting car with blacked out windows. They passed through tunnels and snarls of concrete highways, and beyond that she was sure they entered a city, tall buildings shadowing the streets they passed through. The journey ended, as it always had when they’d returned to SHIELD’s base after an outing, into an underground garage.

“Sweep the building, neutralise anyone you find,” Loki said to the soldiers, and they stomped off. “It’ll be just the two of us from here,” Loki told her as he led her, his hand around her elbow, to an elevator at the far side of the garage. It didn’t seem to want to cooperate at first, but Loki held his hand over the access pad until the doors slid open. She hadn’t seen anything—no sparks, no pretty light—but she knew he’d used magic to override the electronics. In they went, the doors sliding shut, Loki’s hand keeping her trapped in the centre at his side.

The ride took minutes and his posture stayed perfectly upright, his free hand gripping the staff like a king’s sceptre. She was reminded, with him in all his terrible, armoured glory, that he was, if not a god, then closer to one than she was comfortable with. Whatever she was in the middle of, despite the flashes of something akin to tenderness he’d shown to her, she couldn’t rely on his mercy. He wasn’t a benevolent god, and if his mercy was the only thing that would keep her safe in the cogs of his schemes, there was no safety to be had.

Chapter 9: Cogs in the machine

Asta wasn’t sure what she expected when the elevator doors parted, but it wasn’t a panoramic view of Manhattan.

She only recognised it because it had appeared in so many of the shows and movies she’d seen on that little television set at the base, and then in the books she’d devoured about the world beyond her quarters. Over there, the Art Deco spire of the Chrysler building. Below, the white stone edifice of Grand Central station. Further away, the soaring height of the Empire State building. And the scary part—whatever building she was in towered over much of the landscape around them.

Rather than leading her across the wide room they’d entered, towards the wall of windows providing the view, Loki turned and took them through a door beside the elevator, which opened onto a stairwell. She struggled to match his brisk steps up the stairs, and was out of breath by the time he’d thrown aside the door at the top. The area beyond was small and gravelled, but completely exposed, she supposed at the very top of the building. A contraption dominated the space, looking like nothing she’d ever seen before—rings of metal, like layers of a cake, stood higher than her, cogs and components making it clear that is wasn’t there for decoration. It all glowed from the centre out, a familiar cyan, the same light as the sceptre emitted.

A grey-haired, middle-aged man in a plaid shirt stood beside the machine. “Welcome to Stark Tower!” He was blue-eyed, of course, just like the soldiers, but he didn’t have their detachment. He was smiling, likable.

“Will it work?” Loki asked.

“Of course! She’s been a dream to work on.” The man patted the contraption and Loki smiled back at him, with genuine warmth and pride.

“I don’t doubt we’ll be receiving visitors soon, Mr Selvig. I made quite a mess of SHIELD’s ship.”

“But it was worth it.” Selvig nodded to Asta. “You got what you were after.”

“We lost Barton in the process. He is, unfortunately, no longer under my control.”

Loki’s grip on the sceptre tightened and Asta finally put the pieces together. Whatever power the staff wielded, it allowed Loki to control those around him. The soldiers, Selvig, whoever Barton had been, they were all under a spell. No wonder the smiling man seemed so happy to be here.

“We already have everything we need,” Selvig said. “I just need to recalibrate a few elements and she’s ready to deploy.”

“Glad to hear it. Work quickly, there’s a storm brewing.” Loki glanced at Asta. “Let’s get you inside.” Back down the staircase they went, through the vast room and then down a hallway. Her surroundings had changed, becoming more opulent, but she may as well have never left the compound in the desert. She was still being led around, no choice to her destination, no say in her own life. At least the room he took her into had windows—floor to ceiling glass. The bed was a double, the space enormous compared to everywhere she’d been since her capture by SHIELD, though every surface was empty.

“The room’s been swept, so I can promise you there’s nothing you can use to get yourself free,” he said. “I’m sure you can make yourself comfortable, though. Our host has a measure of taste that extends to no small amount of luxury.” His hand stayed on her arm and his gaze swept to the bed, expression inscrutable.

“You’re going to lock me in.” She didn’t make it a question; it was an inevitability at this point.

“I can’t have you wandering away after all the trouble it took to retrieve you.”

“So I stay here until…what? What part do I play?” she asked.

“I don’t follow.”

“You brought me here for a reason—you got captured just to snatch me away from SHIELD. I must have some role in your grand plan.”

“My dear, I didn’t steal you from them to use you as a pawn in this little game of war. I rescued you from them. I was your prince in shining armour, like the ones in the tales you were always so fond of, come to save you from those who would keep you captive.”

Now that, she hadn’t expected. She wasn’t even sure she believed it. He must have read her doubt clearly, because the mask of cruel indifference fell into place again.

“You’ll see,” he said. “Now, I must take my leave. Our host returns.”

He took a few steps out of the room, slamming the door behind him, and she heard the click of the lock before he retreated. She tested the handle, to be sure, but it was a futile gesture. It didn’t budge, and she was a prisoner once again. The cell had increased in size, but it was still a cell.

At least she was free of prying eyes now. She reached into the pocket she hadn’t even realised she had and pulled out what had been annoying her since she discovered it on the jet.

It turned out to be a piece of plastic, credit card sized but slightly thicker. One of the shorter edges was ridged, and a quick examination showed her it was a hinge. The device opened up like a clamshell, and suddenly had a screen and a number pad.

She glanced around for cameras, realising it was too late if there were any and Loki was using them to watch her still. Just to be safe, she headed for the door across the room, which as she’d hoped turned out to be a bathroom. It was as big as her old rooms at the compound, all sleek lines and polished marble. If there were surveillance devices in here, they’d be hard to hide.

Guessing the green button was the on switch, she pressed it and the screen lit up. Within seconds, it pulsed between her fingers, the display reading Incoming. She pressed the green button again and held the device to her ear.

“Hello?” she whispered.

“Asta, this is Coulson. Are you harmed?”

“No, I’m fine. I’m locked up but I’m okay. How do I have this?”

“It’s mine. I slipped it into your pocket when we were on the ground earlier. We’ve been monitoring it for activity. Do you know where you are?”

“Stark Tower. New York. There was a guy here, Selvig, and he’s got this big contraption on the roof.”

“Thank you, Asta, that’s very helpful. Where is Loki now?”

“He said our host was coming. That was about five minutes ago—he locked me in a room and left.”

She heard muttering in the background as Coulson relayed this information. “We’ll try to rescue you as soon as we can, but you may be there some time.”

“Loki mentioned a war. This is serious, isn’t it?”

“As serious as it gets. We’re trying to prevent that war starting, and anything that can stop Loki will help that. If you remember anything, call this number back.”

“I will.”

“I have to go, Asta. Stay safe.”

When he rang off, she returned to the bedroom, but she didn’t sit down. She slid the phone back into her pocket and instead paced around the space, checking over and under every surface in the room for anything to get herself out. Her patience was through. She couldn’t wait around to be rescued by SHIELD, not when that meant she’d just end up back in their custody. She couldn’t stay to see what Loki had planned for her. She needed to get out while everyone was focused on fighting each other; if that meant walking through a war-zone, she was happy to take her chances. All the better for her to slip quietly into the day.

Her search—opening drawers, peering under the bed, rifling through the empty closet—got her nowhere, and she paused to sink onto the bed, facing the window. It would be so easy to give up and wait for other people to decide her fate for her, but she’d curse herself for accepting that defeat forever. She needed to be resourceful.

Light flared beyond the glass, and she rose, tiptoeing across the carpet to stare out over the city. Grey figures streamed from the sky, streaking past and down among the buildings below. The flare she’d noticed was now a fire burning—a jet, smashed into the concrete several blocks away. Figures ran, tiny ants swarming across the city streets, away from the grey invaders. Other fires burned, other buildings had shattered windows and cars lay crushed and strewn across the roads. The windows kept the sounds muted, but it wasn’t hard to imagine the screams as people tried to escape the chaos around them. Whatever Selvig had needed to do on the roof, this had to be the result of it.

The war had begun.

 

 

Chapter 10: Temptation

She didn’t know how long she stared at the destruction below. Too long, probably. Giant monsters snaked from the sky and joined the grey figures. It was hard to tell if anyone was fighting back, but it didn’t look like it. Until an army arrived, the invaders would keep winning.

This was Loki’s plan. Wherever the grey soldiers—aliens, she guessed—were coming from, he’d brought them here. He controlled them. It wasn’t hard to extrapolate his goal from that: seize power. Not just in New York, for it was too small a territory. The United States were too small a territory. He was god; he wouldn’t settle for less than the world.

Somewhere out in that world, she had a family. She’d forgotten to tell Coulson what she’d learned from Loki, but maybe even a first name wouldn’t help. Besides, who was to say SHIELD hadn’t known all along who she was, but kept her hidden because of her connection to men who called themselves gods? SHIELD had clearly encountered Thor last year, not long before Coulson first came to meet her. Loki wasn’t the only god that walked this world, and a god of thunder was as capable of wreaking this kind of damage as a god of chaos. No wonder SHIELD wanted to hang onto her, even if she still had no idea what her true connection to them was, or how she’d ended up abandoned in the desert with her mind stripped clean.

She had a name—Alexandra—and she had a destination—England—and now, she had opportunity. One chance to escape those who would use her until she was of no more use, then cast her aside. One chance to find a family: the woman who’d spoken to her of shooting stars, the dancing girls in the garden. There were people out there who cared about her, and she would find them. She’d shed the identity, thin as it was, of Asta, and rediscover Alexandra.

She had to find a way out of here. No more relying on others. She could only rely on herself from now on.

Her search of the room had determined there were no other exits than the door. Even the back of the closet seemed real enough—no passage to Narnia through there, just solid plasterboard. She had to get the door open, one way or another. It was solid wood, but people kicked doors down on T.V. all the time. She did have a sturdy pair of SHIELD-issued boots on her feet. Kicking the handle would probably result in broken toes, but kicking next to it might work.

Her first attempt felt like she’d earned the broken toes anyway, and she limped away to the bed before trying again, taking a run up to try and put all her body weight behind it. The door didn’t so much as creak.

Okay, so brute force wasn’t working. She could always put off bodily injury until she’d tried other things. The popular culture she’d been exposed to had people using two things to open lock doors: credit cards and hair pins. She lacked a hair pin, but she had something close to a credit card in her pocket. She knelt, taking the phone out, but it was too thick for the crack between the door and the frame. Brute force was beginning to look like the only option. There weren’t even coat hangers in the closet that she could use in place of a hair pin.

Well, it taken her a while to realise she had the phone. Maybe there was something else in her ensemble that would help. She pulled the boots off to examine them—leather and rubber, solid soles, and though the zip was metal, it wasn’t going to be useful. Her pants, it turned out, had three pockets, but turning all of them inside out didn’t yield any joy. Her t-shirt was just cloth and thread, leaving her standing in her bra while she checked it for secret linings.

Her bra. Her underwire.

The bra was disturbingly easy to destroy, and when she held the wire between her fingers she expected to need to fumble around with the lock, relying on luck for this to work. Instead, this felt familiar. She slid it in at this angle, and wiggled the wire that way, and waited for the click. She’d done this before. Hanging around with a god of mischief had probably taught her a few skills.

The handle bowed beneath her fingers, the door pulling toward her, but she paused. Down the corridor a fight was occurring—crashing, growling, the splintering of stone. She couldn’t see it but she could hear it. Here was safety. If she ventured out, she didn’t know what she’d find.

Or the fight could mask her escape. If it was Loki out there he’d be watching for her, but if he was too busy saving his own skin she could reach the stairs and be away. And she’d have to take the stairs, all the way down—the elevator wasn’t going to be an option.

Now or never. She didn’t want it to be never.

She eased the door open and stepped out. The noise had stopped, and she kept to the wall as she crept along the corridor. The doorway to the stairs was level with the end. She’d need to be very sure the room was empty, or that all occupants were looking another way, before she went for it.

Mere feet away, she heard footsteps ahead, and she pressed herself into the closest doorframe. The stairwell door swung open and a black-clad figure swept out, gun in hand. Asta couldn’t see her face, but the red hair was too distinctive. Agent Romanoff. She didn’t glance in Asta’s direction. Instead, she looked across the room, smirked at something, and crossed to a set of doors that led outside.

If Romanoff hadn’t been apprehended, Asta guessed this was as good a time as any to run for it. She bolted for the door, slipping through without looking behind, but before she could head down, she felt a gust of air as the door opened again.

“Asta!” She paused and turned. Romanoff stood holding Loki’s sceptre. “Coulson told me you were here somewhere, that Loki had you locked up.”

Asta gestured to the wire she still held in her fingers. “I escaped.”

Romanoff took the wire from her and raised an eyebrow. “I’m impressed.” Whatever she was feeling was probably closer to suspicion. “Come on, we need to go up.”

Whatever Romanoff did or didn’t suspect, she didn’t show it. She just waited for Asta to head up the stairs ahead of her, back to the rooftop.

The noise hit her first—the din echoing around the building: thunder, gunfire, collapsing buildings. They were, for the most part, far above it, but it was still overwhelming. Far below, Grand Central was in ruins, its stone facade spilled across the surrounding roads. Chunks had been taken out of other buildings, leaving steelwork and interiors exposed, and there was so much glass strewn over the asphalt that the streets seemed to glitter in the light of the many fires.

The contraption Selvig had been working on soon drew her attention away from the ruins of Manhattan. Now it whirled, separate sections spinning in opposite directions, and a beam of light shot out of the top, pulsing its way into the sky. At the end of the light-stream, the clouds had been pierced, another sky appearing in the hole it created. The invaders spilled from the gash, ever more of them falling through and heading to join the battle below.

Romanoff followed Asta’s gaze. “It’s a wormhole, to another part of space.”

“So they really are aliens.”

“They’re called the Chitauri. Loki made a deal with them so he could rule Earth.”

“I figured that’s what he wanted.”

Selvig himself stood next to the device, but the blue was gone from his eyes. Romanoff had found a way to release him from Loki’s spell. “We can stop it, with the sceptre.”

Romanoff gripped it grimly. “Stand back,” she ordered, and Asta crossed back to the stairwell, ready to flee if the opportunity presented itself. Romanoff pushed forward with the sceptre, and a barrier threw itself up around the contraption, a bubble of cyan light. The sceptre pierced it and Romanoff manoeuvred the sharp tip to graze the glowing cube at its centre.

“It’s the cube, isn’t it,” Asta murmured to Selvig. “That’s what’s powering this.”

He nodded. “It’s called the Tesseract. It’s frighteningly powerful—and clever. I never thought I’d meet an inanimate object with so much intelligence. It knows what you wants and shows you how to get it.”

Romanoff released the staff with a yelp, falling backwards, as the barrier around the machine blazed crimson. The staff stayed poised in mid-air, as if held in place by the energy around it. “What the hell?” She jumped back to her feet, but maintained a wary distance. “Selvig, this isn’t working.”

“I don’t understand,” he said. “What’s it doing?”

Asta stared at the centre of the machine, where the blade met the cube.

“It’s my blood,” she said. “Look at the colour—that’s because my blood was still on the tip.”

Romanoff and Selvig gave her curious looks. Of course, only three people had been present for that incident.

“Loki cut me with it, by accident. He healed me, but I don’t think he cleaned it afterwards.”

“But blood is nothing special,” said Selvig. “Not in this kind of science. It’s just water and iron and a few other compounds—nothing that would cause a reaction like this.”

“I don’t think we’re just dealing with science,” Romanoff said. “Not science we know, at least.”

“Magic,” Asta whispered.

“Perhaps. That doesn’t help us understand what we need to do to shut it down. There’s a nuke about to blow on the other side of that wormhole, and if we don’t close it, the fallout will leak over Manhattan.”

“More blood,” said Asta.

“What?” Asta was already pulling the staff free of the bubble, and despite her obvious doubt, Romanoff didn’t stop her. Asta held the sharp edge back to her palm and slashed across, letting the blood drip over it. Oh god, it stung, heat blooming around the wound while she bit her lip to suppress any whimpers. Selvig was protesting beside her, but she tuned him out. This had to work. If blood was the problem, then blood had to be the solution.

She pushed the sceptre forward and the red in the barrier deepened, but the blade was allowed to pass. It clinked as it connected with the cube, and suddenly she was connected too. She could feel the stream of energy above, burning skyward, and she could feel the pull of the cube, its need for more.

Her hand, blood still dripping, was inside the barrier before either Romanoff or Selvig could act, and with stiff fingers she touched the Tesseract, lifting it from its cradle. The barrier dropped and the energy stream abruptly cut out. The world paused, suspended in the cube’s thirst for her blood.

“Asta, you shouldn’t touch that bare-handed—”

That was Selvig. She could barely hear him over the noises in her head. From Romanoff, she could just make out the clink of metal—a gun, probably, or a blade, ready to persuade her to drop the Tesseract. Asta knew she’d have to do that anyway, but it had no intention of letting her go, not as it drew all that power back to to itself, the rushing of the closing wormhole like the roar of the ocean in her head. It was more than a sound, a pressure pushing against her, all that energy pouring back home, and she was in its way. She couldn’t move. The cube liked being connected to life in this way. It wouldn’t be greedy—it would fill her up, just as it was going to be filled, the power of the wormhole flooding through the both of them. So what if her body wouldn’t be able to contain such a thing? It whispered to her, promised her the universe, if she just opened herself up. It could give her everything, make her everything, and she’d never be a broken, hollow thing again. All her memories, all the knowledge under the stars, delivered to her in exchange for the sweetness of her blood.

She stared at the sky, trapped in this split-second before the wave reached her, and despite all her awe and fear, she refused. It could kill her, but she didn’t want any of that power for herself. Power was corruption. It had offered the same thing to so many before her, and they’d all paid for it in the end. She only wanted freedom.

With strength she didn’t know she had, she released the Tesseract, letting it fall from her fingers, but pain blazed in her head anyway. She dropped as inelegantly as the cube, down into oblivion.

Chapter 11: Sleep like the dead

“How did I do?” Asta asked, but the one-eyed man didn’t respond. He stared down at his hands. In each, he held an apple—one golden, one red. “Did I pass?” He’d barely ever said a word to her, but she supposed unless she passed he saw her as beneath him. His fingers clenched around the apples, and this time he did look up, and she almost buckled under the sorrow in his eyes.

He held out the red apple, moving the hand with the golden one behind his back. “I’m sorry, my child.”

She swallowed down a gasp, bit back her tears. “I won’t die, though. You promised I wouldn’t die.”

“You won’t die, I swear it.” He was so old, hair and beard pure white, and all those years bore down on him, exhaustion radiating from the lines on his face.

She took the apple. “Tell him I’m sorry. Tell him I love him, and I’m sorry I failed.” She bit down.

---

If she could hear, she wasn’t dead.

If she could feel the pounding in her skull, she really wasn’t dead. That was a good thing. Theoretically.

Despite stumbling back into consciousness, even lifting her eyelids was beyond her capability. She was 99% sure she was no longer on the roof, unless gravel normally felt this soft, and the cacophony of the battle had been replaced with the soft hum of air conditioning. In all likelihood, she was in a bed, but how she’d got here and how long she’d been in it was beyond her. She was too exhausted to care.

She wasn’t alone, given the murmurs across the room. She recognised one voice—Romanoff—but not the other, a man. If Romanoff was here that meant Asta was in SHIELD’s custody rather than Loki’s. Small mercies.

“Do you think we can expect Coulson to swing by?” asked the man.

“He did seem concerned with her status, but given all that’s going on with the Security Council, he may not get chance. Maybe when she wakes up.”

“If she wakes up.”

“Thanks for the optimism, Barton.” So he was the infamous Barton, the one who’d been under Loki’s control until Loki stole Asta off the helicarrier. He and Romanoff sounded relaxed with each other.

“How’d she end up on the roof in the first place?”

“I found her on the stairwell. She’d been very resourceful to escape wherever she’d been stashed. I think she was trying to run away.”

“From Loki?”

“From Loki, from us, from all of this.”

“Smart girl.”

“What good it did her. You should’ve seen her on that roof, Clint, when she held the Tesseract. She had those eyes, like Selvig and…you. She was staring at the sky and she was struggling with something. I knew if she didn’t let go it’d kill her.”

“So you did what you had to. Cognitive recalibration.”

“Yeah, but she let go of the cube a second before.”

“You can’t blame yourself for this. This is probably some damage the cube did to her, rather than you cracking her over the head.”

“Thanks.” The word was loaded with sarcasm.

“I’m serious. They did all those scans and didn’t find any bruising or swelling. She just needs to rest and heal.”

“I hope so. I’m just worried that her amnesia means she’d already had one serious brain injury, and I made it worse.”

“I don’t think the amnesia had a medical cause. If the Prince of Darkness had anything to do with it, it’s probably one of his experiments gone wrong.”

“Oh, he definitely had something to do with it, but I don’t think he ever experimented on her. You should’ve seen him when we brought her down. He could barely crawl out of the crater the Hulk left him in, but we carried her past drenched in blood, and he was on his feet, trying to heal her. I think he did himself more damage than he helped, but we couldn’t tear him away.”

Footsteps approached and another person joined the conversation. “Do you remember his words?” Selvig asked. “‘If you try to keep me from her, this battle will seem like a childhood frolic.’”

“I believed him,” said Romanoff.

“You think he’s soft on her?” Barton asked. “Creepy.”

“I don’t get it. I just don’t get it,” said Selvig. “And Thor can’t explain—he says he’s never met her, never even heard of her. He has no idea how she could be connected to Loki.”

“I tried to get some intel outta Coulson,” said Barton, “but he’s being tight as a nun’s cooch about the whole thing. Keeps saying it’s classified. Stark’s too busy to hack into SHIELD’s files.”

“That isn’t something we should be encouraging. Look where it led the last time.”

“But we saved the world and everyone lived happily ever after.”

“Apart from the people who died,” Romanoff pointed out. “And the destruction done to Manhattan. And the psychological damage to the civilians caught in the battle, and the soldiers forced to act against their will—”

“I know, Tash. I know. I know better than almost anyone on that score, okay? I’m just saying, it could’ve gone a lot worse. Loki’s in custody, the Chitauri are dead or on the other side of the universe, and Manhattan isn’t a nuclear wasteground. Plus, I’ve finally stopped tasting shawarma every time I belch.”

“Nice. Well, I have somewhere to be,” said Romanoff. “Is anyone going to be on watch?”

“I’ll do it,” said Selvig. “It’s no problem, I’ve got something to read. She looks peaceful, and a lot healthier, which is better than remembering what she looked like yesterday. Besides, I don’t think anyone will get past him anyway, chained up or not.”

“Okay, Stark and Rogers are around somewhere so yell if you need anything.” More footsteps, this time fading, and Asta’s world narrowed to the soft scratching of turning pages.

---

She was woken the next time by more voices—loud, angry voices.

“I will not stay out here any longer!” She flinched at Loki’s demanding tone.

“I’m afraid you don’t get a say in this,” came Coulson’s quieter, reasoned response.

“Oh, I very much do. You may think me bested but it’s only my cooperation that allows such an assumption. I’m here of my own free will and if you don’t grant me this—”

“Loki, be reasonable!” Asta didn’t recognise the other voice—deep, male, the same accent as Loki.

“I am being reasonable,” Loki spat. “I will acquiesce to remaining chained thus, but only in her presence. Otherwise I’ll be taking my leave, and you’ll all regret—”

“Will he harm her?” Coulson cut in.

“I don’t believe so,” Romanoff said.

“I’m right here!”

“Yes, we’re aware of that Mr Odinson,” Coulson replied calmly. “In light of your petition, I’m willing to allow a change in location, if your brother agrees to stay.”

“I do.” The new man had to be Thor.

“Agent Romanoff, can you oversee the move?”

Everything quietened, apart from the clink of metal further away, but she welcomed the peace and fell back to sleep.

---

She slipped in and out of wakefulness often, slipping out of dreams before they delved too deep. Sometimes she heard the rattle of metal or the shift of cloth nearby and was sure someone was in the room with her, but it was easier to continue ignoring the world if she kept her eyes shut.

She’d been awake some time, aware of breathing off to her side, knowing she wasn’t alone, but no one spoke. She was curled on her side, facing away from the presence of her visitor. The heavy thud of boots reverberated, coming closer, and she heard the scrape of a chair being pulled across the floor.

“Has she woken at all?” It was the man’s voice from before—Thor. His voice suited how Asta pictured him in her head, carrying through the space even when low in volume. Appropriate for a god of thunder. Silence greeted his question, and he spoke again after an uncomfortable pause. “You can’t ignore me forever.”

“Now there’s a statement I’d like to test,” Loki replied, and though his voice hummed with menace, there was a definite scrape to the words. He sounded exhausted. Asta wondered how long he’d been there. Since the shouting match earlier, probably, although how long ago that had been was another mystery.

“Is this how you intend to spend your days now? Brooding and sulking by this girl’s bedside?”

“It’s as good a past-time as any.”

“And when they come to drag you away to face punishment? What then?”

Loki snarled. “That won’t be happening. She was taken from me once, and I will not permit it to occur again. Chain me up, torture me, do whatever you see fit, but I won’t be kept from her.”

“Who is she, Loki?” Thor’s voice slipped into frustration.

“Have SHIELD not briefed you yet? Her name is Alexandra.”

“Who is she?” The frustration twisted into anger. “They all believe she’s known as Asta. That’s not a Midgardian name, but she’s clearly not of Asgard. What is she to you?”

A sharp, humourless laugh burst from Loki. “Oh, brother. If only you knew.” Chains rattled behind her, and then she felt a hand in her hair, teasing the tangles out. “She was going to be my wife.”

Chapter 12: Preposterous

“A wife?” Thor was obviously having as much trouble with the statement as Asta was. She couldn’t imagine even striking up a friendship with the terrible man at her bedside. Besides which, he was a prince. From a different world. “That’s preposterous.” Asta was inclined to agree.

The hand in her hair had frozen into a fist. “I’m flattered by your endorsement.”

“That is not what I mean, Loki. In centuries, you never so much as attempted to seriously court a woman. You pushed aside those who pursued you, you never looked twice at a woman once you’d bedded her.”

“Those scheming harlots wanted titles and privilege, nothing more. Why would I give them the attention they craved?”

“And yet here I find you fighting tooth and claw to stay beside this Midgardian girl, one who seems to have appeared from the ether. Where did she come from? How did she manage the impossible and win your love?”

“I never spoke of love,” Loki spat.

“You don’t need to, brother. Your actions speak for you.”

The hand withdrew from her hair and Loki’s frustration crackled through the air.

“You call her beauty,” Thor continued.

“How observant of you.”

“They all think it her birth name, not a pet name. It’s obvious you gifted it to her.”

“That’s a bold statement for one so usually oblivious.”

Thor’s sigh filled the room. “I am sorry. I’m sorry I failed to notice something so momentous was happening in your life. You wear a hardened shell, but I must have been blind to never see a change in you. The way you are with her…”

“I’m the god of lies. No one is a better actor than I. You saw what I wanted you to see.”

“Even still. There is much more to this story, isn’t there? They tell me she has no memory.”

“No. The Allfather saw to that.”

“She was tested?” Thor asked, astonished.

“Oh yes,” Loki replied. “She was placed in an underground labyrinth with the incarnation of fear itself.”

“But no mortal could pass that test—not without assistance! Not without our enhanced endurance and senses.”

Loki gave a bitter laugh. “And I’m sure that’s why the Allfather chose it. She failed, of course, and was thrown back to Midgard like a used rag, her memories stripped clean of any knowledge of me. Unfortunately for her, I was too deeply embedded in her life, and that meant she lost everything she’d ever known.”

“All her memories? That’s—just how long had you known her?”

“Since she was a very small child. When they removed me, they left her an empty shell, easy pickings for the vultures at SHIELD.”

“Did the Allfather know you’d been here? And so often? Does Heimdall? Are your powers really that great that you can shield yourself from their gaze and keep us all in the dark?”

“When no one expects much of you, it is easy to exceed those expectations.” Loki sounded beyond weary. The stroking fingers returned to her hair, sending goosebumps marching across her skin.

“This is why you came to Midgard. Not merely in revenge against me, but to harm those who held her prisoner.”

“Wouldn’t you?” Loki said, so quietly Asta could barely hear him. “I tried to let her go, when she failed. I truly did. I didn’t even search for her, because I knew she would have no recollection of me. I assumed she would return to what life she had, but the Chitauri showed me what had befallen her. Would you have left her where she was, caged like an animal? Locked up to be examined and tested until she broke to their will? This is what your precious human race are capable of.” The softness of his voice had given to way to something filled with menace.

“They didn’t harm her,” said Thor. “What would you have preferred, that she was left to wander this realm without resources or any hope of finding her family?”

Conversation lulled again, while Asta sifted through what she’d understood of their conversation. She was fairly certain that at least part of this was the result of a serious head injury, because it seemed the brothers were talking about Loki being in love with Asta, and her having travelled to Asgard at some point in the past. As Thor had said, it was all preposterous. Unless they were talking about another girl, which was a more reasonable explanation.

A path of glass beneath her feet, all the colours of the rainbow.

Utter darkness, her senses as good as broken, and the same scarlet eyes from years before waiting up ahead.

An ancient man telling her she’d failed, offering her a red apple.

She stifled the disquiet inside herself at those fragments of memory.

“When did you bring her to Asgard?” Thor asked quietly.

“What does it matter?” Loki replied, in apparent boredom.

“I’m trying to piece events together, because for the life of me I cannot determine when this occurred.”

“Don’t strain yourself so, I know intellectual exercises tire you. I brought her mere months before your failed coronation—it was the announcement of your big day that prompted me. If you were going to get everything you wanted, then I at least wouldn’t be left with nothing—I would have a wife, but of course Odin denied me even that.”

“And that is why you betrayed us all.”

“It wasn’t betrayal. It was a plan, something far grander than you would ever be able to concoct, to prove once and for all that I could do what was best for Asgard. I might not have your brute strength or be able to command the forces of the realms with a smile, but I could do what even the Allfather could not and finally bring about the end of the frost giants. Maybe then he’d trust my judgement.”

“You hoped he would relent and bring her back.”

“I hoped he would see I was doing the right thing when I brought her back myself. It was only in the void I realised he didn’t disapprove because she were mortal. No, his disapproval stemmed from what I was. He already had schemes of his own to marry me off to a Jotun whore, and put me on their throne. She stood in the way of all that. What I wanted never featured in the decisions he made.”

“Why did you never tell me about her? Why keep her a secret?” Asta found herself pitying Thor, his desperate questions seeping through the fog of exhaustion. He was trying to understand Loki, despite all he’d done, without reproach. Thor was invested in his brother even still, and sounded hurt that he’d been cut out of something so monumental in his life.

“Odin bade me hide her existence until after she was tested.”

“I don’t just mean when you brought her to Asgard. You knew her years; you chose to keep this secret. I don’t understand, brother—I only ever wanted your happiness.”

“And what chance did my happiness have once she’d been introduced to the rest of the court, especially you and your kind with your incessant peacocking? Everything I have ever had, I have had to share with you. Even those who called me friend preferred you. For once, I wanted something that was mine alone.”

“Did you have so little faith in her feelings for you? Is that the problem—could you not share your happiness because your jealousy tainted it?”

“You seek to diminish my every emotion, so forgive me for not being willing to trust you with this.”

“I am sorry. It was never my intention to make you feel that way. I’ve grown, brother, and I will do whatever it takes to make amends with—”

“Save it,” Loki cut in. “I have no need for your pathetic apologies.”

The silence stretched on this time, the air thick with the tension between the brothers. Eventually, the chair scraped across the floor again, and Thor retreated.

---

When she finally gained the strength to open her eyes, she didn’t recognise the man standing at the end of the bed, but knew immediately it wasn’t Thor. Though he was well-muscled and had the stance of a soldier, he wasn’t large enough to carry the voice she’d heard before. He looked all too human.

She hesitated to glance to the side, where the black hulk of Loki slumped against the bed, his head resting on his arm. He looked far from peaceful in sleep. Cuts graced his skin, bruises welling beneath his eyes, and his hands were similarly battered. Thick chains stretched from his wrists and neck, disappearing from her eye line.

“You’re awake,” the guard said. She nodded. “Do you need anything?”

She gestured, trying to indicate water. He crossed to the nightstand where a pitcher and cup waited. Her eyes adjusted to the room, which looked all too similar to the one Loki had locked her in during the invasion, though it was definitely a different one. The windows only took up half the exterior wall and were covered in slatted blinds, keeping the sunlight out. They were still in Stark Tower.

“I’m Agent Barton,” said the man, offering her the cup. Her hands shook as she gripped it, but she managed. “With SHIELD.”

The water was a cool blessing, and she eagerly downed it all. “What happened to him,” she croaked, pointing at Loki.

“He got hulk smashed.”

“He what?”

“He picked a fight with something a lot bigger than him, and he lost. Thor says he’d normally heal much quicker, but he’s been using all his energy to help you.”

“Well, he can stop. He looks like hell.”

Barton shrugged. “Doesn’t bother me either way.”

“How long was I asleep?”

“A day and a half. Did you know you snore?”

She ignored him and shifted her legs experimentally, aiming for the edge of the bed, on the opposite side to Loki’s prone form.

“Is there a bathroom?”

“You sure you can stand?”

“I guess I’ll find out.”

Asta made it under her own steam, and winced when she saw her reflection. Her hair was in a worse state than Loki’s rat’s nest, and she still seemed to be covered in the grime of the day before she blacked out. They hadn’t even stripped her out of the SHIELD clothes.

She opened the door and peered out at Barton. “Can I shower?”

“Be my guest. Towels should be on the rail. I’ll ask for clean clothes—knock when you need them.”

She took longer than she needed under the hot spray, but it felt like she was shedding more than just dirt. She was healed of any injury she suffered—not an ache graced her muscles—but she couldn’t shake the exhaustion. Flashes of her dreams came whenever she closed her eyes, and when she curled her right hand she could still feel the burn where she’d held the Tesseract. There should be a cut across her palm, one that couldn’t have healed in the time elapsed, but her skin was whole and unscarred.

So, apparently a god was in love with her. That was something to box neatly away and ignore until she had the strength to deal with it. That time might never come, but it definitely wasn’t something she could cope with today. There was also the issue of her plan to escape his grasp and SHIELD’s, but if the war was over, she wouldn’t be able to hide long from either of them. She was back to being a pawn. There wasn’t enough caffeine in the world to combat how tired that made her feel.

The clothes Barton handed her were another set of SHIELD issued garments, and someone had also taken the time to include a comb and a hairdryer. That gave her more time to hide away behind a locked door, avoiding her own thoughts and whatever the world was going to start demanding of her once she left this bathroom.

Only when there was nothing else to do did she release the lock, tiptoeing back out in the bedroom. Barton was waiting by the window, the blinds now open, with his back to her. She glanced at the bed and found a slitted pair of eyes staring back at her. The time of avoidance was at an end. Loki was awake.

Chapter 13: A bargaining tool

“You should be resting,” Loki said.

“I think of the two of us, you need it more.”

“Don’t argue with me.”

“I think I’m gonna ask Thor for that muzzle,” said Barton, but he hesitated as he stepped towards the door. Loki stared at him, one eyebrow cocked.

“Go on, errand boy. Go running to my brother.”

Barton glared. “I’m under orders not to leave you alone with him,” he said to Asta.

Loki’s smirk had Asta itching to smack it off his face. “I’m surprised they trust you, not when I scrambled your brains so thoroughly.”

A muscle in Barton’s jaw twitched, and he raised his wrist to his mouth. “The Squire of Dimness is awake again. Permission to have him muzzled?”

“No deal. If that thing comes near me, I’ll burn this tower to the ground.”

The ground shook as someone approached, and the door slammed aside for the god of thunder to stomp through. Asta was very sure that was who he was: he took up half the room, with arms roughly the same thickness as Asta’s torso, and his blonde hair and armour made him look extremely…Norse.

“Loki!” he warned, and Loki’s smirk vanished, replaced with a scowl. Romanoff slipped into the room behind Thor and into the corner, her stare on Asta.

“Agent Barton is uncomfortable in my presence,” Loki said, palms spread in innocence. “Perhaps he should be removed, for his own benefit. And someone needs to escort the girl back to the bed, so she may rest.”

Barton made an obscene gesture in Loki’s direction and stalked away. Thor whirled and spotted Asta behind him, then dropped to one knee, head bowed.

“Lady Alexandra, it’s a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance.”

“No—I’m not a lady, I’m really not!” she protested. Loki’s scowl had deepened, and Romanoff had the beginnings of a smile. Whether it was at her own discomfort or Loki’s annoyance, Asta wasn’t sure.

“But you will be,” Thor said, rising to his feet and taking his hands between hers. “Now you’ve been reunited with my brother, you’ll be more than that.”

Asta snatched her hands away and stepped backwards, all too aware of the way the two brothers were watching her. Thor’s smile was genuine—she could almost see the confetti being thrown in his head. Loki’s inscrutable mask had returned, but there was a wariness in his eyes.

“Thor,” Romanoff warned, stepping forwards. “She doesn’t remember him, she doesn’t know who he is, you can’t just assume she’s going to agree to a happily ever after!”

“Then we’ll find a way to help her remember,” Thor replied.

“After all he’s done, you’d just hand her over to him? He killed people. He almost destroyed this city, and she witnessed it. She needs protecting from whatever twisted idea of love he has. She should stay in our care.”

“She’s not a child,” Loki hissed. “And she doesn’t need protecting from me.”

“Clearly she does, if her blood was on that sceptre.”

Thor and Romanoff were facing each other, arms crossed, their backs to Asta. Thor’s bulk blocked her from Loki’s sight too. She backed up and her shoulder blade hit the door frame, the door still wide open from Thor’s entrance.

“Everything Loki has done, he has done because she was denied to him,” Thor reasoned.

“So you mean to use her as a bargaining tool?” Loki said. “Here I thought you only wished to see me happy.”

“He needs punishment, not reward,” Romanoff replied. “And you can’t lay the blame for this on her. He knew what he was doing. He enjoyed what he was doing.”

“That is not what I mean, either of you,” said Thor.

Asta wore only socks on her feet, and they made no sound on the floor tiles, especially not under the escalating volume of the discussion. She had no intention of trying to escape again—she wouldn’t get very far, not when the building was crawling with SHIELD agents. She just needed to be away from the arguments, away from Loki’s presence, and have a few minutes of self-determination. Instinct told her they’d be hard to come by in the near future.

The corridor beyond the door branched off in two directions, and she picked the longer side, which turned a corner rather than ending another door. She didn’t make it as far as the turn, because Loki was there before her, free of the chains. He stood with his feet apart, arms held open like he expected her to go running into them. A wicked smile graced his face.

“Now, now,” he whispered, “we can’t have this.”

He reached out for her and she stepped back, but there was another Loki at her side, and when she spun around he was there as well—a dozen of them circled her, closing in. How on earth was he doing this? She backed away, accidentally stumbling through his outstretched arm, which was as solid as smoke. Realisation hit—it was just an image. Were they all mirages? Romanoff and Thor continued to bicker in the background—they’d have noticed if the real Loki was out of his chains. This was a trick. She could walk through all these Lokis and there was nothing he could do to stop her.

She threw herself forward, but instead of falling through the vision in front of her, she landed against something very solid. One glance up confirmed it was indeed the real Loki, and his hand was over her mouth before she could make a sound, his other arm snaking around her waist to pull her in closer.

“Shhh….shhh,” he crooned, pulling her along with him, delight alive in his eyes. “Don’t worry, their cameras will see nothing. Come, let us escape these fools.” The turn in the corridor led to an elevator and stairwell. From the room they’d left, she could hear Loki’s voice still offering dry commentary on Thor’s vision for the future. He was better at tricks and deception than she’d realised, better than even her memories hinted at. They’d be out of Stark Tower, probably out of Manhattan, before anyone realised they were gone.

The way Loki stroked at her back where he held her did nothing to calm her fear. She remembered his strength from earlier, felt it in the taut body pressed against her. She remembered his casual threats to harm others if she disobeyed him. He might not plan to hurt her—not maim or kill her—but everything she’d overheard suggested he wanted so much more from her than she could contemplate giving. What would happen if she refused him? Would he take what he wanted anyway? Or would he destroy her for daring to reject him?

They were level with the elevator when it pinged, the light flashing above to announce someone was about to disembark. Loki tensed, and he lifted Asta off her feet entirely, cradling her against him with one arm like she were weightless, and launched himself at the stairwell door.

He might have made it, were it not for Barton coming up the stairs, pinning them in place. Loki whirled, setting Asta on her feet but keeping her very much tight against his body. Coulson stepped out of the elevator, his gun aimed at Loki’s head, but his companion laid a hand on his arm.

“You won’t need that,” the woman said, gliding into the corridor. She was tall, though her slight frame probably made her seem even taller, and wore robes of vivid purple, stitched with gold runes. Her hair was nearly the same shade of gold, pinned atop her head in an elaborate twist, and her age was hard to determine—though her skin was smooth, everything about her said she was ancient. “Not with what I bring.”

“You,” Loki snarled, “haven’t you done enough? You seem very confident I won’t kill you all where you stand.”

The woman reached into her robe. “That, my prince, is because I have something you’ll very much want.” Removing her hand from the robe, she held out a golden apple.

Chapter 14: The golden apple

For once, Loki seemed lost for words, though he didn’t release Asta.

“Greetings, Lady Alexandra,” the woman said, still holding the apple out. “I am Idun.”

The name meant something to Asta, though she couldn’t quite remember why. Idun was obviously from Asgard, judging by her clothing, and Loki knew her. Loki did not like her—whether that made her friend or foe remained to be seen.

The apple, though. The apple meant something else entirely.

“He gave me a red apple…before,” she said.

“When you lost, yes,” Idun confirmed. “The magic inside it took your memories. You’ve passed your test, Alexandra. This will return to you what was taken.”

“But she failed her test,” said Loki in confusion.

“She failed the original, but passed another, one I am satisfied means she has earned this right.”

“I don’t think the Allfather will be happy with you making these kind of decisions,” Loki said, his voice suddenly dripping with delight that someone else would be in trouble for a change.

Idun scowled. “I set the tests and I keep the apples. I’ve already taken issue with the Allfather on this before, and I will again if he disagrees.”

“Does he even know you’re here?”

“I am sure Heimdall has informed him, but it will be some time before he could follow, and he knows he has no right to interfere in this.”

Thor and Romanoff came pounding it sight, and Thor dropped to his knees before Idun. “Is that..?” he said, when he raised his head from a bow.

Idun nodded. “She is worthy.”

Loki’s hand had slid from Asta’s mouth down to curl in her hair, so she could speak. “I don’t understand. Why do people keep talking about a test? What test?”

Thor rose to his full height, but when he tried to approach, Loki tightened his grip, pulling them backwards another inch. Thor paused, throwing Loki an exasperated stare. “I know you remember very little, my lady, but you have something of a history with my—”

“She overheard us,” Loki interrupted. “She only pretended to slumber while we spoke earlier.”

“What?” Asta and Thor said in unison.

“A pretence is just another kind of lie, and I always know when someone is lying, my sweet,” Loki replied. “And why else did you think my tongue was so loose with you, brother?”

“Then she knows she was already tested.”

“But why?” Asta asked.

It was Idun who answered. “To be permitted life on Asgard with your suitor, you first had to prove your worth. You, especially so, since it was a prince of the realm who sought your hand. The first time, I told Odin you must face fear in the labyrinth. However, the test was meant to be adjusted to give you some hope of passing, and I only discovered later that Odin left it unfit for a mortal. Inevitably, you failed.”

“Father did that?” Thor asked, staring at Loki with open sorrow.

“What, no denial that he would do such a thing?” Loki mocked. “You know he’s capable of it.”

“I do. But I also know everything he does has a purpose to it.”

“I’m aware of that, just as I’m aware that purpose benefited me in no way.”

That reminded Asta of his words from when she pretended to sleep. His disapproval stemmed from what I was. Had Odin seen the darkness that lay within Loki even then, and taken steps to protect her from him?

“Your memories were only hidden from you,” Idun continued. “I created the magic in the apples and after the Allfather went against the rules I’d set, I changed the normal spell. Everything you knew about Loki and Asgard should have been destroyed, rendered irretrievable, as they would be for anyone else who had failed the test. Instead, this apple will reverse that spell, returning them to you.”

“And I don’t have to do anything else?”

“No, my lady. Just eat.”

Loki finally loosened his grip, though he didn’t let go completely, his fingers twined in Asta’s hair. “You’ll be rewarded for this, one day,” he said to Idun. “My gratitude will be boundless.”

“I didn’t do this for you, my prince. I did this for Lady Alexandra.” She spoke to Asta. “Please, will you take the apple?”

“Take it,” Loki murmured, bending so his breath ghosted along her jaw and neck as he spoke. She shivered at the feeling, stepping as far away as he would allow.

“But you said I was tested again and passed—how? When?”

“When you held the Tesseract,” Idun explained. “It offered you everything you wanted and you resisted. Few would have the strength to do that.”

“So the apple undoes the spell and proves me worthy?”

“Worthy to be my wife,” said Loki. Idun cast him a look that would have made a lesser man crumble, but Asta was sure nothing could ever dent Loki’s ego.

“This means no such thing, Odinson.”

“I am no Odinson, as well you know—” Asta stilled at the words, which made no sense, but Idun hit back at Loki.

“It is you who needs to prove your worth to your intended, not the other way round. Her accepting this is no agreement to bind herself to you.”

“Listen, wench—”

“Loki!” Thor warned, stepping between them.

Coulson had been silent throughout the whole discussion, and Asta looked at him for the first time since Loki had snatched her on the helicarrier. He met her eyes and gave a small nod of greeting. She couldn’t imagine he was understanding much of what was happening, but he was as unruffled as ever, his gun at his side but still gripped in his hand, ready to use if he needed to. To defend her. For months, he’d been the only person who gave a damn about her. Right now, his gaze said do what you need to.

“I want the apple,” Asta said, stepping away from Loki. He let her go, and she paused when she was almost level with Idun to look back at him. “But this is for me. I don’t want to be your wife.”

Hurt flickered across Loki’s face, barely noticeable, before smug confidence replaced it. “By all means, do this for yourself. When you are fully able to remember what we were, you’ll come to me.”

The apple was cool to her touch, its flesh promising knowledge, and the symbolism of that wasn’t lost on her. Odin—God-in-chief—had once given her Snow White’s poisoned apple and she’d lost everything because of it. No wonder she didn’t like apples.

She was too aware of everyone staring at her. “I don’t want an audience.”

“The bedroom’s still vacant,” said Romanoff, and Asta nodded, slipping past the group.

“I’ll wait awhile, my lady,” Idun said as she passed. “This isn’t something that’s ever happened before, and I will remain here in case you need my assistance.”

“Thank you,” Asta replied. “For everything.”

The cocking of several guns behind her and Thor’s “Stay where you are, brother,” informed her Loki wouldn’t be following her, and when she reached the room she shut the door and leaned against it, giving Loki chance to turn up if he was going to glamour the group she’d left behind. When it was clear he’d had the good sense to give her space, she crossed to the chair beside the bed and slumped into it, staring at her reflection in the polished skin of the apple. It wasn’t golden really, just a very light yellow, and if it weren’t for the perfect symmetry of its shape she’d have never known there was something out of the ordinary about it. It seemed a shame to ruin it by eating it, but it sounded like Idun had more. She was also fully aware that her ruminating was a diversion, a delay in the inevitable. If she was going to do it—and she’d decided she would—then she needed to get on with it.

She took a bite.

 

 

Notes:

At last, the big reveal (or a proper explanation of what's been dropped in over the last few chapters). The concept of people being tested by Odun and having their memories wiped comes from the Marvel comics, though since I don't read them it was something I kept seeing mentioned in other fics. In fact, the idea for this story came from wondering what would happen if you did lose and got sent back to Earth with a big hole in your life...hence, Asta's story was born. The use of Idun's apples is something I think fits, considering her place in mythology (she kept the apples that kept the Norse gods young).

There are, of course, still missing pieces to discover, and we're probably not even at the halfway mark of the story yet.

Also, thank you to a) my pre-readers for encouraging what was supposed to a 5 chapter, 10000 word thing to balloon into whatever size this reaches in the end and b) the not-quite-handful of regular readers and reviewers. Your feedback is much appreciated!

Chapter 15: Walls torn down

The apple flesh was crisp and tart, and delicious as it was, there was nothing about it that spoke to Asta of magic.The sticky juice ran down her fingers as she waited for the spell to work. She’d expected it to be like filling a vessel with water, a slow stream of memories trickling in as she ate. Instead, somewhere between the seventh and eighth bites, she had a head full of memories, like a wall hiding them from her had been torn down. The apple slipped from her fingers to roll across the floor as she crossed the breach.

---

“Ring-a-ring-a-roses, a pocket full of posies,

A-tissue, a-tissue, we all fall down.”

She fell to her knees in the grass beside her sisters, too young to even know how old she was. Five of them in total, all with the same long hair, fine and straight and the colour of walnut wood. It was their eyes that set them apart from each other, and the different way their noses slanted, but they were all easily marked as one of the Kirkwood girls. Alex was the baby of the group, her hands still pudgy as she grasped at the earth.

“Fishes in the water, fishes in the sea,

We all jump up with a one, two, three.”

---

They sat in a forest in an unnamed realm, Alex crouched by Loki’s side in shrubbery. She was sixteen, still in her school uniform—he’d whisked her away when she was meant to be doing homework at a friend’s house.

“What are we hunting?” she whispered as a butterfly with vibrant wings settled on a twig nearby.

“A bicorn. It’s not as rare as a unicorn, but its horns are particularly useful to me.”

She squinted out between the trees but couldn’t see anything amongst all the greenery. Loki’s eyesight was much keener.

“So I kissed this boy.” She watched him for any hint of reaction, but he kept peering out through the foliage.

“And what was that like?” He didn’t sound particularly interested.

“Kinda wet. Not slimy, exactly, but pretty wet. I don’t see the fuss.”

Loki laughed. “You will, with enough practice and a skilled enough partner.”

“See, I was thinking about that…”

He ignored her and she watched his lips peel back from his teeth in what had to be his most unnerving smile. “There you are.” The beast stalking had appeared ahead. He covered her mouth with a hand, a warning to keep quiet, then was gone, not even the foliage stirring around her. She saw only a blur of black between the leaves, the flash of his knives, and the bicorn fell.

Why couldn’t she find the words to tell him how watching him do this kind of thing made her feel now? To watch him stalk, quiet, powerful, efficient and lethal, the way her body reacted to it? It went beyond mere awe. It left her blushing, stammering when he returned, her legs quaking. She’d held off on kissing for years behind her peers, but she hadn’t wanted to leave school without trying it, and she knew the resulting disappointment was because she only wanted to do it with him. He’d be skilled.

Only when he looked at her, it was the same way he’d looked at her since she’d known him. The heat wasn’t returned in his stare. Though she rolled her skirt up and unbuttoned her blouse as low as she could without showing bra, his eyes never lingered, skipping straight past her body to focus on whatever adventure he’d brought her on.

She was invisible to him.

---

“Alex, where were you?”

She was four years old, running into the house with muddy feet and tangled hair.

“I was with Loki, mummy.”

An exasperated sigh. “Sweetheart, we’ve spoken about this before. Loki isn’t real and you have to tell mummy the truth when I ask you things.”

Alex felt her bottom lip waver. “But, mummy, I’m not lying. I was in the garden and then Loki showed me this door in the wall and we went through it and there was a jungle with flowers as big as me!”

“Beth, you were supposed to be looking after your sister…”

“I was! She was in the garden then whole time! She was just hiding in the bushes. I’m not a bloody babysitter—”

---

She was coming home from school with her uniform carrying the distinct smell of smoke. Not cigarette smoke; bonfire smoke. Loki’s doing. It was hours after school had finished, the sky inky blue, but no car waited in the driveway.

“Mum? Dad?” she yelled, but she could tell the house was empty. Fourth straight night in a row. Money was tight lately. It wasn’t like she could complain about them being gone—it meant she didn’t have to make excuses about where she’d been when Loki stole her away. Normally she wouldn’t complain.

A note was pinned to the fridge with a magnet.

“Girls—we’re both working late tonight. There’s lasagna in the fridge to heat up. Alex, there’s cake too, and candles.”

Working late meant they wouldn’t be home until midnight, probably. Her sisters had obviously taken the opportunity to go out with friends and boyfriends. It wasn’t like it was her birthday or anything.

The card she’d opened this morning, pink glitter fourteens plastered on the front, were in a pile next to the red-texted letters her parents had received. No one had even bothered to put them out on the mantelpiece. Plus, when she rummaged in the fridge, the lasagna was all eaten, and there was one piece of cake left, the letters ap rth iced on the top. She dumped it onto a plate and stormed through the quiet house, wishing—not for the first time—that she was an only child. Then money wouldn’t be as tight, and when she did well at school it wouldn’t be dismissed as something her sisters had already achieved, and she wouldn’t be eating stale cake for her birthday tea because everyone else ate all the food. Sometimes it felt like no one would even miss her if she was gone. Not when there four other perfect daughters who’d already done everything she would.

From her bag she retrieved a locket, pure gold and engraved with a serpent. At least someone cared about her birthday.

---

“What’s wrong, pet?”

“Mummy says you’re not real. And daddy, and Beth.”

“Adults don’t understand. They don’t always see the things they don’t want to.”

“Why can’t you just let them see you? Then you could come play whenever you wanted, even if I was at school.”

“That’s sweet to think so, but it wouldn’t work that way. They’d call me dangerous and stop me from seeing you.”

“Oh.” Alex bit her lip to stop the tears from falling. Loki didn’t like it when she cried—he preferred her happy and giggling. “Then I guess I’ll stop telling them about you.”

“It’s probably for the best,” he agreed. “Do you hear that sound? That’s the genie coming towards us. He’s free, but I’m going to capture him so he has to do as I say.” He handed her a golden vessel, shaped like her mother’s best gravy boat but with a lid. “Whatever you do, do not let go of this.”

---

“Why are you telling me this?” She and Loki sat side by side on a tropical atoll, feet dangled in the bluest waters, after she’d begged for a little sunshine as respite from the miserable English winter. He’d taken some of the leather off, but only some, and he had to be sweltering in what remained. She’d stripped down to a bikini.

“Because it’s a pretty big thing, and I don’t really have anyone else to tell. I know you’ve been having sex for centuries, but this will be my first time.”

Loki paused and gave her a curious look. “You’re still a maiden?”

“What? Nineteen’s hardly ancient. I didn’t want to give it away to someone clueless idiot, and John is a lot older than me. He’ll know what he’s doing.”

She watched the muscles in his jaw tighten as he took in her words. “He only wants you because you are young. You should wait for someone who wishes to be with you because of who you are. Someone you care for.”

She huffed. “The only man that fits that description has made it pretty clear the feeling isn’t mutual.”

“Alexandra—”

“No, I get it. You don’t want to sully yourself with a mere mortal—”

“It is your age that concerns me, nothing more. How can you know what you want when you’ve lived less than a score of years?”

“And I’ve seen more in those years than most people do in decades! You’ve shown me that. I’m not a child anymore, Loki.”

“I’m well aware of that. Your eager recounting of various escapades have made it clear.”

She rose. “Take me back. I’ve got a date to prepare for.”

“Call it off,” he demanded. He took her by the hand, and in the next breath they were in the woods, fully clothed again.

“No!”

He loomed over her, eyes narrowing at her refusal. “You ask things of me you’re not prepared to deal with. It would be no mere dalliance, Alex. I will either have your friendship, or I will have all of you.” Her breath caught in her throat as she saw, for the first time, heat flare in his eyes, like he’d dropped the mask that had kept it hidden. He gripped her shoulders, pulling her onto tiptoe so they were mere inches apart. “It is your choice, but once made you cannot turn back.”

She cupped his face in her hands. “I know. I chose years ago.” And she kissed him.

She’d never expected to lose her virginity on the forest floor, underneath him on the green cloak, but that was how it happened. He wasn’t exactly gentle, but he knew how to play her. Despite all his skill, there were three things she carried with her afterwards, tucked away in her heart: the way he captured her hand and entwined their fingers; the split-second where he held her eyes and let his walls fall down, a boy terrified of rejection staring out at her; and the way he whispered Asta in her ear, the word brimming with reverence. It would be months before he admitted what it meant.

---

“Honestly sweetie, you have to try and focus at school. You can’t just wander away when the teacher’s talking— ”

“—never had this kind of trouble from your sisters…”

---

A weeks-old photograph of her in a graduation cap and gown stood on her parents’ mantelpiece. The house was quiet, and Loki held her to him, tipping her face back so she was meeting his gaze.

“Come with me to Asgard, Asta.” She shivered as his mouth trailed across her jaw. She knew what his pet name for her meant now. Beauty. Though she doubted the accuracy of the name, she knew he meant it wholeheartedly. “My brother will be king soon. I want you there with me for his coronation. I want you there with me always, then we’ll never have to keep this a secret again.”

“But what will I do there?”

“Silly girl, you’ll be my wife.” She gasped, and his fingers found the hem of the skirt she was wearing, brushing against the bare skin of her thighs. “I’ll give you all the pretty dresses and jewellery you want. We’ll have servants to do everything for us, and attend banquets with food the likes of which you’ve never seen. We’ll spend days locked in our chambers, entwined together. Father will gift you immortality, and you’ll be a princess, beside me forever.”

She had to cling to him as her heart swelled at the promises he made. “Do you mean that?” she whispered.

“Of course. And it’s only an offer I’ve made once. One I will only ever make once, to you. Do you accept?”

She stared around the room, quiet and dark as it usually was. The house was so empty now they’d all grown and moved on, but even when she returned to visit, her parents were out, enjoying their empty nest. Would they even notice if she stopped returning their infrequent calls? How long before her mother tallied up the daughters at Christmas meal and realised she was one short—especially now there were grandchildren to dote on?

“I just need to write a note,” she told Loki.

Going travelling. I’ll be in touch when I can - Alex. She stuck it to the fridge and walked back to Loki’s outstretched hand.

Notes:

On a previous chapter I gave a teaser to a few people who'd guessed about Idun...so, I decided to offer teasers of the next chapter to anyone who reviews or leaves a kudos. Sadly, there's no PM feature on here at the moment, so the only thing I can suggest is to contact me via Tumblr, Twitter or FFnet (my username's the same on all 3). It'll be a 200 word snippet from chapter 16 :).

Chapter 16: Lovefool

When it became too painful to examine the past, she curled up in the chair and cried. She hadn’t just seen snippets of her time with Loki, but years of life with her sisters and parents—and family beyond that: aunts and uncles, cousins, grandparents, the people who got called Auntie and Uncle but were really her parents’ oldest friends, or lived on the street she’d grown up on. She remembered Christmases and birthdays; chaotic summers with the girls running loose through the neighbourhood; fights and parties; hugs and trips to seaside towns and disappointed faces when school reports came home.

She’d believed when she was a teenager that her parents had little time for her, not when the sisters who’d come before her had already done everything—top of the class in school, university, careers, marriage, babies. She had nothing new to offer, and she was their last attempt at a boy, so she’d always carried an assumption that she was surplus to requirements.But hindsight was painting everything in new tones, showing her it was her own doing—her and Loki’s. Sometimes her parents had been fighting to keep a roof over their heads but they’d always made the time to tuck her in at night, read her stories, play the games her sisters refused to. If her mother couldn’t share in her hobbies, it wasn’t because she didn’t take an interest, but because Alex had no hobbies to share. Just like the distance she’d kept with her sisters, since the day she’d vowed to stop talking about Loki. There couldn’t be hushed conversations about first loves and first times because everything always came down to the man she kept a secret, and the distance that secret created never bothered him. Hell, he encouraged it.

Who was she? Her soul lay in two fractured halves, and the parts seemed so irreconcilable to her. Alex was a naive girl, completely in Loki’s thrall. She’d abandoned her family, given up her whole future, for a man who’d never even told her he loved her. Asta was little more than a shell, but everything she’d done had been fleshing out her bones, and without her captivity no doubt that process would be much further on. She was braver, kinder, less self-centred. She saw Loki for the monster he could be. And yet, she was as much Loki’s creation as her own, right down to her name. Even if she could get the two halves to fit together, she had no real identity, not when she subtracted his influence.

If she had sense, she’d walk away from Loki and never look back. The Asta half wanted to do exactly that. The sad part was that even with all that hindsight, Alex still yearned for him. She wept tears for the man he’d become, but she couldn’t turn her back. Besides, she knew him well enough that it was never going to be as simple as convincing him to let her go.

When she’d exhausted herself, she climbed onto the bed and let sleep claim her, though her memories invaded even here, tangled up in dreams of a blood-red Tesseract. Her growling stomach woke her eventually, and she opened her eyes with trepidation, expecting a familiar figure at her bedside. Thankfully Loki was nowhere to be seen. The sun had set outside, but she could hear signs of life echoing up from the building around her. Fresh clothes were piled onto the chair, and the remains of the apple were gone.

It was Thor she found waiting outside her door when she opened it, dwarfing the stool he perched on. She fought the urge to drop to her knees when he turned to look at her. Even in jeans and a hoodie, he looked like a prince—though the smile he bestowed in her direction definitely put him in the realm of a Disney prince.

“Lady Alexandra, you are awake!”

“Yeah. I’m famished. Do you know where I can get something to eat?”

“Do not worry, I shall ensure nourishment is brought up directly. You should rest some more.”

She expected him to scuttle off but instead he clapped a hand to a wristband and bellowed into it while she bit down a giggle—he yelled so loud he didn’t really need the microphone in the device for anyone else in the tower to hear him.

She leaned against the wall by his stool. “Where is he?” she asked, focusing on scuffing up the carpet with her feet.

“Do you wish to see him? I can arrange for him to be brought here—”

“No, no, I’m good. I’m just surprised he’s not around, what with all the fuss he made about staying near me.”

“Ah. Yes.” Thor frowned and picked at a thread on his jeans. “We had to restrain him.”

“I thought he couldn’t be restrained?”

“He was weakened enough after his escape attempt with you to attach the muzzle.” At Asta’s curious glance, he elaborated. “It restricts his magic. My father—Odin, the Allfather—created it.”

“Yeah, I met him.”

It was Thor’s turn to be curious. “When you were tested?”

“Uh-huh. He was near enough the only Asgardian I ever met apart from your brother. The king of gods himself.”

“Was he at least pleasant to you? I know sometimes he can be fiercer than he should.”

“Oh, he was scary. But not evil scary. I just knew that he would do whatever was needed. Ruthless, I suppose. He seemed almost apologetic, when I lost.”

“My father has a reason for everything he does. I know Idun has stated he ensured you could never pass the test, but whatever Loki’s beliefs on the matter, I do not believe it was done to hurt you. Whether it was for your own good, or for the benefit of the realm, I cannot guess, but it was not done through ill intent towards you or my brother.”

“Well, I don’t think you’ll convince him of that.” She thought back on Odin’s apologetic words when she lost. “Though I believe it.”

The clatter of cutlery sounded from further up the hallway, and Thor rose to retrieve the tray of food when it arrived. He carried it into the room and Asta curled up at the foot of the bed. “You can bring your stool in, if you want,” she said, and Thor beamed at the invitation.

The plate was covered in one of those gourmet lids, and though the food underneath it was an unfancy burger and fries, it earned the silver dome in the taste test. Thor seemed happy to watch her eat, his content smile never wavering.

“You’re not what I thought you would be like,” she said, wiping the grease from her mouth with a cloth napkin. The service in Stark Tower really was five star.

“Is that a good thing?” he asked with trepidation.

“Yeah, it is. For years, he didn’t speak about you—any of you. I knew he was a prince but I didn’t know what family he had, if any. It was only when we…grew closer…that he began to talk about you. The way he made it sound, you weren’t much of a brother, and Odin wasn’t much of a father. He always talked about how he was constantly overlooked in favour of you, no matter what he did. He made you out to be this big, dumb brute who never thought things through.”

Thor winced. “He may have been right, in part. But I have grown, and I am learning to be a better man. We have not had an easy relationship of late, but it took me a long time to realise how undervalued he felt. Loki is too used to hiding his emotions even when it would aid him not to.”

“I’m not sure even Loki knows how Loki really feels, deep down.”

“Perhaps not. But there may have been a ray of truth to his resentment. After all, you can’t lie to the god of lies, not even if you are the Allfather.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Did he ever explain to you what a Jotun was?”

“Sure. He even took me to Jotunheim a few times, not long before we came to Asgard. It wasn’t exactly an inviting place.” Loki’s stories of the frost giants had been of huge, cruel monsters with skin of ice, long enemies of the Asgardians. Given the frozen wasteland Jotunheim had been, it was easy to see why creatures like that would be the only things to survive there.

“He took you to Jotunheim?” Thor’s expression twisted with horror. “He must have been very confident in his ability to protect you.”

“Well, we only stayed for a few minutes, and we never actually saw any frost giants.I don’t think he intended to be seen. I think he was trying a new spell—who knows what. He was always up to some scheme, even when I was very little.”

“It’s likely he was testing ways in and out of the realm without being detected. On the day of my coronation, we were invaded by a small group of Jotuns. They had managed to sneak into Asgard undetected.” Asta had a horrible feeling she knew where this was going. “They were killed and their plans foiled, but in my arrogance I led a small party to Jotunheim, Loki among them. In truth, I’m not sure what I hoped to accomplish, but all it caused was the fragmentation of a centuries old truce. Only the arrival of my father saved our lives, but I was banished here to Midgard for defying him.”

“So that’s how Coulson knew you.”

“Indeed. While I was exiled, Loki discovered the truth of his birth. He isn’t an Asgardian, not in blood. He’s Jotun.”

“He’s…that can’t be right. They’re supposed to be ten foot tall. And have blue skin.”

“He was an abandoned runt, the Jotun king’s own son, considered too small to be a worthy heir. Odin found him as a baby in the aftermath of a battle on Jotunheim, and brought him home to raise as my brother, as I always believed him to be. As for his appearance, the way you see him is an illusion, magic woven so deeply he doesn’t even realise he’s doing it.”

She supposed she should have a reaction to the knowledge that her once-betrothed was actually the kind of monster he’d spent hours regaling her with stories of. Disgust, probably. But it was hard to look at Loki as any more of a monster when she’d seen what he was capable of, how easily cruelty and murder came to him. Instead, the bone deep weariness just settled a little deeper.

“Is that what this,” she gestured towards the window, out at Manhattan, “is all about?”

“In part. After he was informed I was due to be crowned, he put in place elaborate plans to prove to our father once and for all that he was as worthy as I was of the throne. That included showing the Jotuns how to enter Asgard. When I was gone, he led the Jotun king himself into our home, then slew him, and finally attempted to destroy all of Jotunheim using the power of the Bifrost. When this failed, he cast himself out, letting himself fall into an abyss rather than face father’s censure. “

Asta pushed the tray away and swung her legs up so she could sit cross-legged. “I wish he’d let me meet you. I can’t help wondering how different things would’ve been if he’d just been more open.”

“Doctor Selvig taught me Midgardian proverb which I feel is apt: ‘if wishes were horses, we’d all ride’. Loki is who he is. If he ever does learn to become more open, it will be a long process.”

“I know. I doubt anything is going to dampen his jealousy. But I think we’d have been friends.”

Thor’s answering smile was bright enough to power Manhattan for a few weeks. “I would have liked that. I think we could still try to be, if you’d like that.”

“I would. Very much. I don’t really have many friends.” If any.

Thor really wasn’t the brute Loki had always painted him to be. It was painfully clear to her that despite Loki’s sour disposition towards his family, despite the schemes that cost Thor so much, Thor loved Loki still. The Alex side of her knew what that was like all too well. And while he didn’t have Loki’s fierce intelligence, he wasn’t an idiot—he was articulate and wise, in his own way. If he was straightforward—shallow, even—it was only a refreshing contrast to Loki’s often murky depths.

“I have many friends to share with you. When we return to Asgard, I’ll introduce you.”

“It’s kind of you to offer, but I don’t think I’ll be going.”

“Surely you are! The Bifrost is still in need of repair, so you would not be able to travel between the worlds with ease. Loki believes you have made your choice, and he’s made the way he feels about you abundantly clear.”

“Hmm.”

“You can’t be as hesitant in your feelings as you appear, not if you chose immortality for him.”

“I was naive when I made that decision, and he hadn’t tried to take over the planet I live on.”

“But what of the choice you made just today? If you didn’t want to be with him for eternity, you would have refused that apple, surely.”

“What does the apple have to do with anything?”

A bell rung in the back of her head, calling memories forward: Odin explaining the rules of the test to her—the red apple meant she lost her memories of Loki, the golden apple meant forever. Panic was already bubbling up inside her as Thor responded.

“The apple Idun brought granted you immortality.”

Chapter 17: Choices

“Why didn’t you tell me?” She rose from the bed to pace.

“Lady Alex, I thought you understood!”

“How could I? No one—not you, not Loki, not Idun—told me what the apple really did. She just said it would give me my memories back!”

“But you could remember being tested before. I thought with that came knowledge of what the golden apples provided.”

“Well, it didn’t.” She stopped in front of the door, resting her head against the wood. “I’m sorry. This isn’t your doing. Of anyone, Idun should have told me, and Loki kept pissing her off.”

“It is not Lady Idun’s way to mislead anyone.”

“But it is Loki’s.” He knew exactly how much she did and didn’t remember, but he’d made sure the conversation never strayed to immortality before she accepted the apple. “Is Idun still here?”

“She is—she needs to rest to gather her strength before she can return to Asgard. She’s using her own magic for the journeys.”

“Can you take me to her?”

Thor stifled a sigh. “I can.”

She pulled on her boots and followed Thor out of the room, back down to the elevator Idun had arrived in. From there he bore right, down a parallel hallway, until they reached a set of double doors. No guards waited outside—she supposed Idun was a guest here, whereas Asta was still a prisoner of sorts. “Mr Stark was kind enough to relinquish his rooms to Lady Idun until she has is able to depart. Well, in truth, it was Ms Potts who informed him he’d be doing so.”

“Okay.” She had no idea who those people were, but no doubt Mr Stark was something to do with Stark Tower.

Thor rapped on the wood. “Lady Idun?”

After a moment the door cracked open. “Your highness,” she greeted Thor. “Lady Alexandra.” Her gown was less elaborate than before, her hair loose, and Asta guessed she’d been in bed, if not sleeping. “How may I serve you?”

“Lady Alexandra wishes to speak with you.”

“Okay, first of all, you don’t need to keep referring to me as Lady anything. I don’t have rights to any title.”

Idun’s mouth quirked at Thor’s discomfort. “Do come in. You must understand, the prince has been brought up with courtly manners. His mother would be very disappointed to learn he was not abiding by them, but if it makes you uncomfortable, we should of course desist. What should we call you instead? Alexandra?”

Asta stepped instead the room, which was about five times the size of where Asta had come from and decorated in neutral silks. “That’s a bit of a mouthful even on its own.” She had a choice here. Was she Alex or Asta? She was still getting used to the Alex side of her being there, but it did fit like an old skin, one she’d used for over twenty years. It had been the name her parents gave to her. Asta wasn’t even a real name. It was Loki’s invention, used for only a few years. If she kept using it, she was giving Loki continued control over her. That, and when she remembered how he’d first used it, her body flushed in embarrassment and…well, she wasn’t going there in public. “It’s just Alex.”

“Very well. What was it you wished to discuss?”

Thor rested against the door, trying to be as inconspicuous as a man that size could be. He clearly didn’t want any part of the upcoming conversation.

“The immortality thing.”

“Is there a problem?” Idun settled herself on a love seat and Alex took the chaise longue opposite.

“Yes. I don’t want it. I didn’t even realise that’s what the apple did.”

Idun’s eyebrows crinkled together. “You realise it in no way binds you to Loki. I know that’s what he implied, but the gift has no conditions to it. You passed a test and you are entitled to the life you earned.”

“A life that would force me to Asgard if I accept it. How could I stay here when I know everyone around me is going to grow old and die, over and over again? I’ve watched enough vampire movies to know that immortality is only a good thing if everyone around you is immortal as well. Otherwise it’s just a curse.”

“I see.”

“Is there any way to take it back?”

Idun stared over Alex’s head, towards Thor. “There is, but I wish for you to consider your decision before you commit to it. Besides, I don’t have the strength to wield the magic required for that at this point.”

“But you can do it?”

“I will be here for half a lunar cycle.” Alex translated that in her head—two weeks. “If you still wish to have your mortality returned before I depart, I can do that.”

“Thank you.”

She felt like she ought to offer something in payment, but she had nothing to offer. At least the goddess wasn’t offended by Alex’s request.

Idun addressed Thor next. “You look wary, my prince.”

“I am considering what my brother may try to do if Lady Alex were to refuse immortality.”

“I suggest you keep him muzzled and chained. If he hears of this, he will make sure she has no choice in the matter.”

“Anything he does will only be because he cares for her. He hides just how vulnerable he really is.”

“That doesn’t make him any less selfish. Alex, if you do decide to keep the gift, you needn’t condemn yourself to misery in this realm.”

“I can choose misery in another realm?”

Idun laughed. “I’d prefer you shunned misery entirely. There are places on Asgard that would welcome you, far from the royal court. Some of them—like the shield maidens’ home—are forbidden to men. You would never need see Loki again.”

“Forgive me, my lady,” said Thor, “but Loki has changed his form into that of a woman before.”

“Then your father will need to find some way of controlling him, if she wishes to be free of him.”

Alex scrubbed her face with her hands. “I’ll think about it. I suppose there are other things I can do while you rest.”

“You look like you could use the rest too, child.”

Alex gave a hollow laugh. “I’ve rested all I can for now. I have new fodder for nightmares now I can remember everything that happened.”

“I can remove some, if you wish. If it would make it easier.”

“No. I think I need them all, good or bad. I lived through them, and if I am still missing parts of my past, then I’ll never really be whole.”

“You have a wise streak in you. It bodes well.” Alex rose from the chair and wondered whether she needed to curtsy, before offering Idun an awkward wave. Thank you, again. I hope you get the rest you need.”

“And you.”

Thor followed her out, and Alex paused in the corridor, where it split. “I don’t think I want to go back to my room just yet.”

“You wish to see him,” Thor said quietly.

“Yeah.” She sighed. She felt pathetic for giving into the urge—for even having the urge—but even with her new perspective, she wanted to be around him. They’d been together so long, with her an almost constant presence at his side when they became a couple, that the absence of him for nearly two years gnawed at her. There was a space where he’d been missing from her life, and she wanted to fill it. Even if she started weaning herself off him, she’d probably forever feel that absence. Besides which, she wondered what seeing him with the fresh perspective she’d gained would be like.

They returned to the elevator and Thor punched for two floors below. It was easy to spot where Loki was being held; there were six SHIELD soldiers outside the single steel door. The one directly in front of it stepped aside at Thor’s approach, and Thor swiped an electronic pass that blipped, allowing him to push inside.

“Brother”. Alex couldn’t see Loki around Thor’s bulk, not until he swept aside to retrieve something from the corner. She caught sight of the massive hammer he swung up, focusing on his movement rather than the glowering figure on the other side of the room, chained to a hefty armchair. Sadly, watching Thor only led to her staring at Loki anyway, when he crossed to drop the hammer down into Loki’s lap. Loki hissed behind the silver gag he was wearing, but when Alex stepped forward he turned his attention away from Thor. She couldn’t see his mouth, the bottom half of his face completely obscured, but even his eyes alone managed to convey his smirk.

“He won’t be able to move when he’s pinned by Mjolnir,” Thor explained as he reached around to unclip the muzzle.

“That’s much appreciated,” Loki said when his mouth was free, though his gaze never left Alex. The anticipation there left goosebumps crawling across her skin. “It’ll be even more appreciated if you destroy it.”

“This is just so you may talk, brother. I’ll be returning.” Thor backed into the hallway and swung the door shut behind him. The locks snicked, trapping her in.

“Asta.”

“It’s Alex.”

“But you always did prefer it when I called you Asta.”

“My name is Alex.”

He shrugged. “It’s a shame. I did get a kick out of everyone calling you by my endearment for you. It reinforced just how much you are mine.”

She ignored the possessive heat in his gaze. “You need a shower. And a haircut.”

“I assure you, that is not what I need most.”

“From where I’m standing it is.”

“Come closer, I can change your mind. Or perhaps you’d like to bathe with me.”

“No. No sweet talk. You haven’t earned the right. And definitely no innuendo with that hair.”

His stare turned cold. This wasn’t the reaction he’d expected from her; she wasn’t falling into his arms and promising eternal devotion. All that arrogance from before was washed away.

“I’m sorry to disappoint you,” she said, her tone making it clear she wasn’t sorry at all. “I know this isn’t what you expected.”

“They must have tampered with your memories.”

“No. My memories are fine. Only I didn’t just get my past back, I gained some clarity with it. I saw how we truly were.”

“And that displeases you somehow?” His mouth twisted into a snarl. “You loved me, then. You love me still. I was the only man you ever wanted, and in return I gave you fidelity and the promise of marriage. I didn’t make those promises lightly. You tasted pleasure most women only read about in stories.”

It was easier to ignore the memories she had of that pleasure when he looked as he did right now, the evil he committed clinging to his skin as much as the grime.

“You gave me enough to keep me a placid pet. I don’t delude myself that I was ever more than that.”

He stiffened, his legs straining against the chains, but the hammer held him fast. “You think I would go to all this effort to retrieve someone I considered no more than a pet?”

“What else am I supposed to think? I had to beg you for affection, and often it felt like you barely tolerated it. That pleasure you spoke about? That was as much for your benefit as for mine—at first I was convenient, and then I was a way of winding your father up. You never once told me you loved me!”

“You think I would ask you to be my wife if I didn’t?”

“I think you knew taking a Midgardian girl home was going to annoy Odin, and you just couldn’t resist the urge to needle him. Not when he’d already chosen Thor over you for the throne.”

“You are wrong.” His tone carried the chill of menace. “I wanted you, just as I told you, and when you were torn from me I stopped playing their games.”

“That’s why you tried to destroy Jotunheim? You want to blame me for that?”

“I see Thor has told you his side of the story,” he said, with no small amount of bitterness.

“What other side is there? There’s no other way of explaining how you almost destroyed an entire realm, or tried to take over the planet I live on.”

“I did it all for you! Without you, what incentive did I have to abide by their rules?”

“That’s not an excuse! People lose the ones they love all the time. They grieve, they mourn—they don’t attempt genocide.”

“You are impossible to please.”

“You’re impossible to make happy. Don’t kid yourself, you didn’t do this for me. It was for you. God, you invaded every part of my life. Even when I wasn’t with you I was thinking about you. You didn’t care that I didn’t have any real friends, or that all that time with you distanced me from my family. So long as I was cooing and fawning over you, you were happy. I never had a chance at normality. I’m just a toy taken away from you, so you’re throwing a tantrum. It’s always been about you, and unless you face up to your own self-loathing, you’ll never find any peace.”

“Perhaps I have no interest in peace.”

“Well, I do.”

He scoffed. “Not after the life I’ve shown you. You’ll never be content, not without me. You’ll never feel this way about anyone else. I’m in your blood.”

“Maybe I don’t need to. I could find a nice man, a kind man, and that would satisfy me. It’d be a refreshing change, not having to constantly guess how he really felt, waiting for any scrap of affection he could throw my way. Not dancing around on tiptoe waiting for another emotional outburst that results in a levelled city. I could find happiness in that.”

He snarled, and Alex backed up to the door, afraid the hammer and chains weren’t going to contain him, but despite his struggles he was trapped. “Do not think I will ever allow another man to even look at you in that way. I told you once that I would have all of you, and you willingly chose that. Even if you are at the other end of the universe, you will always be mine. Always.”

Despite her fear, she met his eyes. “No one gets to make decisions for me anymore. Not you, not your father, not SHIELD.” She rapped on the door, waiting for the locks to open before she delivered her final words. “And right now, I don’t choose you.”

 

Chapter 18: Battle scars

She was back in the elevator before Loki’s yells faded from her hearing. Thor had scrambled into the room wielding the muzzle in her wake, but it sounded like Loki was putting up a fight against it being reattached. So long as he didn’t suddenly appear in her room, she didn’t care. Weariness had settled in again, her body crashing after the adrenaline of the day ebbed away. All she wanted to do was curl up in the bed with a book, but in the absence of any books, she’d settle for sleep.

---

Her first resolution the next morning was that it would be the last day she’d spend wearing SHIELD-issued clothing. She was through with her life being controlled by other people, and it was hard to take that seriously when all her clothes came from the agency watching over her. There were three obstacles to this she could see: she had no money, it was extremely unlikely she’d be allowed out of the building, and since midtown Manhattan had been flattened two days ago, there was an even smaller chance anywhere would be open for her to shop.

Her saviour came in the form of the Ms Potts Thor had mentioned, who turned out to be a no-nonsense woman called Pepper. She seemed to be in charge of Stark Tower, despite SHIELD’s invasion of the place.

“Don’t worry about it,” she told Alex, reaching into a black leather purse the size of a small suitcase and retrieving a credit card. “You can use this, Tony won’t even notice.” Tony, as in Tony Stark, CEO of Stark Industries, which put him on a par with Bill Gates when it came to money and influence. “And I’ll speak to Phil for you, he’ll be fine with it”

“Who’s Phil?”

“Agent Coulson.”

A dark-haired man with a neat goatee, an AC-DC t-shirt and some facial injuries to rival Loki’s swept up behind Pepper. “See, I’m not the only one who thought his first name was Agent.” Alex didn’t need three guesses to figure out who he was.

Pepper rolled her eyes, but it was easy to see the affection behind the feigned annoyance. “Anyway, I’m sure I can convince him to let you out. It is an emergency. Also, don’t worry about the stores not being open. They are. This is Manhattan—if it wasn’t physically flattened, it’s open for business.”

After breakfast in her room, Alex found Romanoff at her door, her red hair covered with a brown wig and a tan leather jacket over her black catsuit. “I’m incognito,” she explained. “Coulson’s asked me to accompany you, but my hair’s too recognisable since the battle’s been all over TV.”

“So I can go, but not go alone?”

“Coulson would’ve come himself but he had a sudden case of really not wanting to go shopping. Barton ran like the wind when the conversation started, and I have to follow orders.”

“They didn’t have anyone else to send? I don’t want to put you out—”

“Much as I would love to see Thor schlep for three hours around Barney’s, there’s no way to disguise him. Plus I think Coulson decided this needed a woman’s touch.” They stepped into the elevator and Romanoff pressed for the ground floor. “I’m not adverse to shopping, myself. Not if we can stop by the shoe departments. SHIELD expenses don’t usually stretch to my tastes, but we’ve got Tony Stark’s platinum card, so I figure I’m owed a little something.”

“A little something with red soles?”

“You know your shoes. Suddenly my day is looking brighter. Where do you want to head first?”

“Well, I always wanted to visit Macy’s.”

---

Despite its reputation (and size), Macy’s just reminded Alex of every other large department store she’d ever been in. She relied on Romanoff’s knowledge of the city to find the best boutiques, although she shied away from designer labels and four-figure price tags. She was spending someone else’s money, and she needed a wardrobe of basics, not cocktail gowns—she left the Louboutins to Romanoff. It was an exercise in learning her own tastes, without Loki’s influence. He always preferred her in gold, in silk, in green, in the closest Earth had to offer to Asgardian gowns. She liked brighter colours and simpler cuts, her favourite find being a turquoise t-shirt.

Coulson met them at the elevator, helping them carry all the bags back to Alex’s room.She didn’t miss the meaningful looks exchanged between him and Romanoff, which she guessed meant ‘Did she behave herself?’; ‘Yes she did.’

She really didn’t know what to say to Coulson. Romanoff wasn’t one for idle chatter so the topic of Loki never came up. How much they knew about her relationship was a mystery, though given the conversations she’d overheard and Loki’s behaviour, they’d probably guessed enough. Did Coulson judge her for that connection? They’d only ever met Loki in murderous psychopath mode—they didn’t know this wasn’t his normal state of being. Helping shut down the Tesseract probably earned her brownie points and convinced them once and for she’d never been in league with Loki, but being in his bed might be bad enough.

“Did you get everything you wanted?” Coulson asked with his usual politeness, and Alex just couldn’t find any hint of change in the way he looked at her. If he thought ill of her, he hid it well.

“I do have another request,” she said, seizing the chance to bring up the next stage in reestablishing her identity.

“Walk with me,” he replied, and Romanoff strode away ahead.

“I was hoping I could return to England. I want to see my family,” Alex ventured.

“I’m sure we can arrange something,” he replied, and there was no way to tell if he meant that or he was trying to put off telling her no. His next words gave her more hope. “I still haven’t thanked you for saving my life.”

“Oh!” What did you say in circumstances like this? ‘You’re welcome?’ That was just rude. “It was instinctual, I suppose. I saw him moving and knew he was going to hurt you.”

“Not many people would throw themselves in front of someone else the way you did.”

“I kind of…didn’t exactly mean to do it that way. It worked out okay, anyway. I’m glad you’re alive.”

He laughed. “Me too.”

The hallway opened out into the vast room Alex had seen when Loki first dragged her up the tower. One window was covered with a space-age tarpaulin, and the floor was littered with crevices. Any rubble had been cleared away but people had to pick their way around the craters, and the floor would probably need replacing. The battle had extended even to here.

Pepper came running across the floor. “Alex! Did you have fun? Did you get everything you need?”

“I did. Here,” she handed the card back. “Don’t worry, I didn’t go crazy.”

“It’s fine! Did I hear you saying you wanted to take a trip to England?”

From the corner of her eye, Alex saw Romanoff stalk over to a man she didn’t recognise; from the back all she could really see was a black leather trenchcoat . They were watching projections that seemed to float in midair, while still working as touchscreens—something she’d never seen before. Somehow she was in the middle of a spy, a fantasy, and a science fiction story.

“I’d like to visit my family. I haven’t seen them in two years.”

“You poor thing. Of course she can, Phil, right? She can take our private jet.”

“Well, if Tony doesn’t object…”

“He won’t.”

“Maybe it’s for the best. We’re having a few issues getting the Tesseract to properly settle down, and given your history with it, distance can only be a good thing.” Alex’s body flashed cold at the mention of the cube. Two nights of dreams about it, drenched in her blood, and when she woke up from the nightmares she’d have sworn, fleetingly, that it was still there at the edge of her mind. “Come on, let’s check with Natasha.”

“Who?”

Given the way he steered her towards Romanoff, she guessed that was Natasha.

“Director Fury, this is Alex.”

The mystery man turned to face her. “So you’re the girl that’s caused so much trouble.” Fury was an imposing man in all that black leather, his one eye staring at her with an intensity that would’ve made a lesser woman quail. She’d stared down gods, though.

“I’ve already met one man with an eyepatch, and he was the king of the gods, so forgive me if you don’t intimidate me as much as you probably should.”

Fury didn’t blink, and for a second she worried that she’d misjudged and he would actually kill her. Instead, his face split into a grin. “King of the gods. How about that.”

Coulson cut in. “Alex has requested a visit home to England. How would you feel about accompanying her, Agent Romanoff?”

She shrugged. “It’s been a while since I’ve been to England.”

Alex was about to respond when she saw the video being played on the screen in front of her, a familiar figure stalking towards a crowd in ballgowns and designer suits. “What’s he doing?” she asked.

“This was in Stuttgart,” Fury explained. “We’re compiling CCTV footage of the last few days.” Romanoff stood with arms crossed, eyes staring unblinking at the screen. Alex didn’t want to look away either, but she doubted it was for the same reason. Loki made a compelling figure in a suit—something she’d never seen him wear—and he was strutting down a wide staircase with the air of someone who knew exactly what kind of impression he made.

Then he cracked someone in the face with the sceptre.

She covered her mouth to stifle the gasp, and Romanoff’s frown deepened. Loki’s next move was to grab another man and sling him so he landed on his back on a marble bench. The camera closed in on his face as the crowd dispersed around him, running frantic for the exits. Loki smirked, drinking in the chaos, his breathing shallow and quick, and though the quality wasn’t good enough to properly see his eyes, she knew the pupils would be blown. He was, for want of a better expression, turned on. She’d seen him like this all too often.

The smirk, the arousal, didn’t fade as he ripped the man’s eyeball out, though Alex didn’t catch it all. She was too busy throwing up on Fury’s shoes.

---

Thor was waiting for her when she returned to her room. “He wishes to see you again.”

Alex shook her head. “Not today. Not after what I saw.”

“He’s promised he’ll remain calm. Please, he’s refusing to take food unless you visit him.”

“How long can he survive without it?”

Thor took a full minute to answer. “He won’t starve.”

“Then I’ll see him when I’m ready. And no, I don’t know when that will be.” She should feel guilty for leaving him to harm himself, but if she tried to look at him now, she’d probably try to harm him too, and that wouldn’t end well. Better to keep her distance until she no longer wanted to claw his eye out and ask how he enjoyed it.

Thor didn’t leave, standing uneasily in the doorway. “They should not have shown you that electronic memory.”

She gave a hollow laugh. “Trust me, I’d rather not have seen it either.”

“They seek to manipulate you. They wish to keep you and Loki apart.”

“I doubt what they showed me was the worst thing Loki’s ever done.”

“I’m not sure. He’s never been this…” He sighed. “He’s always lied, and played games, but most of the time it was out of boredom. He killed in battle but casual violence never interested him. I’ve never seen him take such relish in destruction until this recent folly.”

She slumped down on the end of the bed. “It’s nice to hear it is a change, and he wasn’t always such a cruel bastard. Realising your ex-fiance is a sociopathic tyrant makes you doubt how well you really knew him.”

“He was a good man. Flawed, but not evil.”

“Do you think he can come back from that?”

“I think he needs a reason to want to. Otherwise, I’m not sure.”

“I’m not sure I can be that reason. Not with so little of the man I loved there anymore.”

“Perhaps I’ll tell him that. Let him think on that for a while while he broods in that cell—because truthfully, Lady Alex, I don’t know if I could allow you to let yourself be that reason for the man he’s become.”

---

She stuck to her guns and avoided Loki while Coulson finalised the details of her trip home. SHIELD moved quickly. Little details like the fact she didn’t have a passport made no difference to them. A flight was arranged to the nearest private airstrip to her childhood home, and she only had to endure one more night of blood-soaked dreams in Stark Tower.

Coulson accompanied her and Romanoff to the airport. They didn’t take the limousine Pepper had offered, but one of SHIELD’s familiar jeeps.

“There is something we need to make you aware of,” Coulson told her as they buckled in. “A security issue that’s arisen.”

“You didn’t take the muzzle off Loki, right?”

“No—and under Thor’s guidance we haven’t told him you’re leaving the country. This is more directly related to you.”

“Me? How?”

“Some of the soldiers who were under Loki’s control have spoken to the media about your existence.”

“I’m sure the media has more interesting topics to rake over.”

“For the most part, yes. But you do present a mystery, an interesting sidebar for the gutter press to build up as a diversion from the main headlines. The general line they’re taking is you were his mistress.”

“Oh god.”

“Whatever the truth, people believe what they read. If anyone finds out who you are, you may be vulnerable. People who were hurt by Loki, or lost loved ones, can’t get to him, but if they think they’ll get to you as a means of revenge, they’ll try it.”

“Even in England? Nobody was hurt there.”

“You should be safe, but Romanoff is around to protect you, not to guard you.”

Alex turned to Romanoff, who was staring out at the landscape, only half-paying attention to their conversation. “I’m sorry. You’re an assassin, not a babysitter.”

Romanoff gave a half-smile. “I’m always happy to take on work that doesn’t involve killing people. An all-expenses paid trip to Europe babysitting you is the closest I’ll ever come to a real vacation.”

She knew anyone who came at her with Romanoff around wasn’t destined to breathe for very long, but she was still on edge during the walk to the jet. She recognised this airstrip; it was the same one the plane with Loki had landed at. Watching the people milling around, remembering Loki’s casual threat to kill any innocent observers if she didn’t obey him, made her feel unclean. She needed this trip, desperately needed the space between them, if only to start slaking away the guilt she carried for his actions.

Of course, she had actions of her own to feel guilty for, choices she’d made that she couldn’t blame him for entirely. He’d blinded her with lust and love but she’d been an adult: a rational, sane adult who’d let her heart overrule her head and made some selfish choices. She had amends to make, decisions to atone for, and she was returning to the people she needed to begin that process with.

Chapter 19: Home

These streets were so familiar, so unchanged. The car passed Alex’s old school, which needed a lick of paint but otherwise hadn’t altered. A tree had been cut down from in front of her cousin’s house, and Mrs Bramley’s house had a new front door. Some fields on the opposite side of the estate had been built upon, but once they turned in the direction of her parents’ house, all was as it had been.

Like she’d never left, or only been gone a few months.

To a casual observer, the house she grew up seemed to have barely changed. It, too, needed fresh paint on the outside, and the old shed at the side of the driveway was still falling to pieces. The car on the drive was new, and the old net curtains were gone from the windows, replaced with slatted blinds. Even the ornaments on the windowsill overlooking the drive were new. Life had gone on without her. The lack of nets didn’t stop her mother peering out between the slats at who’d pulled up on her drive.

The woman who came running out had aged more than she should have in the few years Alex had been gone. Lines etched her face and grey streaked her hair, and when she drew close Alex could see the wealth of worry she carried in her eyes.

She tried to apologise for all that worry when she held her mother tight, guilt knotting inside at the keening sound escaping her mouth.

“My baby, my baby—you’re home.”

She was swept inside, Romanoff’s location a mystery, to the waiting arms of her father.

“They’ve been saying it was him,” he whispered when he let her go, and they settled on the couch, her parents unwilling to lose real contact with her. “The man who destroyed New York, he was called Loki. The Loki you always talked about when you were little. Was he…were you..?”

“Yes,” she admitted.

Her mother covered her mouth with a trembling hand. “I found the locket,” she said. “The ones with snakes on it, and the man at the jeweller’s said it was pure gold. We couldn’t figure out where you’d got it from—”

“We found so many things in your room,” her father said, “after you disappeared, strange things we couldn’t explain. Your sisters all remembered when you were sure you had a friend called Loki.”

Her mother’s hand was in her hair, smoothing it down. Her own hair, once the same deep walnut shade, was now streaked with grey. “There were all kinds of rumours last year, stories that no one would confirm, about a hammer in the desert in America. We hired detectives and they could only embellish the rumours.”

“You shouldn’t have spent any money on that!”

Her father cut her off. “Shut up, you silly girl—of course we spent money looking for you!” His words were more affectionate than they were sharp. “We wanted you safe and home.”

“But I told you I was going travelling…”

“And you expected us to just brush it away? We missed you, and when more than a month went by without hearing anything, we knew something was wrong.

“All those years,” her mother whispered, “and I never even guessed.” She took a sharp breath, trying to quell more tears. “Alex, sweetheart. What did he do?” But Alex knew even if Loki had hurt her, the way her mother was imagining he had, she wouldn’t be able to cope with the knowledge of it. She needed comforting; she didn’t need to know that Alex had been locked away in a cell for a year and a half. She didn’t need to know about much of anything, not when it was going to upset her. She needed reassuring that the worst of her imaginings were far from true.

Alex gripped her hand. “Sshhh…it’s okay. I left to be with him—I chose to—but ended up in America. He’s never hurt me. I didn’t even see him again until last week, and I was safe.”

Apparently even that was bad enough, because she spent the next hour rocking her mother until the tears dried up. Then came the recriminations and her own tears; then finally, in the quiet stillness of midnight, a kind of understanding. She was home, she was healthy and that was enough to make her parents happy for now.

---

The days that followed were devoted to catching up with everyone she’d left behind. There were hugs and tears and kisses; she was passed from the arms of one relative to another, and more were always coming through the door, alerted by each other to her return. Her baby niece was walking and talking and going to school, and now she had another niece, as well as a nephew. She’d missed a wedding, she’d missed Mrs Bramley’s funeral, she’d missed her sister gaining a PhD. She’d missed an overwhelming number of events, major and minor.

She moved between sisters, cousins and neighbours, with Romanoff a ghost at her heels, avoiding their curious questions about Loki and the battle of Manhattan.

“I really can’t tell you,” she said to her sister Lily, while her tiny niece Abby cooed in her lap. “Romanoff would have to kill me.”

Lily shot a nervous glance in the agent’s direction. She didn’t even appear to be armed, but Alex doubted it would stop her. “That’s not funny. You owe me something—I had to ask cousin Collette to take your place as bridesmaid and all she did was whine about the dress.”

Her sister was joking, trying to guilt her into talking, but it didn’t make her the guilt any less twisty in her stomach. Avoiding eye contact, she fussed with Abby. “I can’t remember too much anyway. It’s coming back slowly, but there are big holes. SHIELD rescued me when I lost my memory and I wasn’t around for any of the scary parts.”

She had no friends to contact. Those she’d made in school, she’d lost contact with when she went to university, and the people she’d met there had been mere acquaintances, pushed aside as her relationship with Loki deepened. Her sisters were the closest thing she had.

She did have a chance, in the evenings when her mother was loathe to let her leave the house, to rediscover herself as she’d been before she left. While her tastes had evolved from her teenage fashion sense, she did find a few items she still liked. Everything else was bagged up for charity shops. She had a CD collection and that all got burned onto an iPod so she could carry the music around with her, remembering how pop-punk bands and singer songwriters from five years ago had shaped her world, a tiny bit. She had new stuff to add to it, but there was nothing she would get rid of. There were favourite books and DVDs, and concert tickets, and jewellery (some family heirlooms, but mostly trinkets from high street shops). From her childhood bed she took a stuffed Smurf, something she'd once slept with every night. Something that predated Loki's involvement in her life.

She packaged it all up and her mother watched the process with wary eyes. She’d seen all her daughters move out before. This time around she was especially reluctant, for obvious reasons.

“I only just got you back! You don’t have to go—you can stay right here. After everything you’ve been through…”

“I have to, mum. Things have changed, and it’s not just ‘cause of Loki.” Speak of the devil, she found that bloody locket he’d got her when she was fourteen. She shoved it inside the duffel bag she was packing before her mother caught sight. “You’ve seen Romanoff. I’m caught in the middle of things bigger than all of us. I don’t want to go, but for now I need to.” Idun was waiting with a new apple, one that would make her mortal again, but they needed to be back in New York before she left. Fury had made it clear, via Romanoff, that until Loki was off the planet he wanted Alex where he could see her. She wasn’t going to be left alone until she was free of Loki and every gift he’d given her.

---

On the last day, she found herself in the garden, the trees beyond the fence beckoning to her, her last chance to return to where it began.

Giving Romanoff the slip was easier than she expected, but then she suspected SHIELD probably had some way of tracking her down if she did escape their clutches. The path out to the woods didn’t seem nearly so wild as it did when she was younger, the woods themselves barely more than a copse. That said, the garden was soon out of sight, the sounds of modern life being blanketed in peace, and it was easy to imagine herself a million miles from anywhere.

She followed the light from the shooting star all the way down the garden, through the gate and out into the woods. It was Lily who’d shown her how to unlock the back door, in case there was a fire, and Beth who walked her in the woods when she tired of the garden. Mummy would be annoyed if she knew Alex was doing this, but if she brought back proof of the angel then it’d be okay.

The path swelled into a small clearing, and she came to a halt at its edge. It was so different in daylight, so many years later, without the shroud of night twisting the shadows into demons. The path through the woods was harder to keep to without daylight, and as she got closer to the star’s light she realised it was fire. That made her pause—fire scared her—but then she told herself to stop being a baby. She needed to be brave if she wanted to meet an angel.

Autumn had cast its first touch on the branches and a light carpet of fire-tipped leaves lay under them. Hard to believe this was the same place.

Abruptly the light from the star disappeared, and she was left in pure darkness. She stopped again, listening to the night around her. Was she too late? Then she saw the red eyes in front of her.

Red eyes like a wolf.

The eyes she remembered even when she could remember nothing else. Even with her perception so changed his voice still rang clearly in her head.

“You should have stayed in bed, little girl,” said someone behind her, a man with the prettiest voice she’d ever heard. She turned to find him but then she saw the teeth beneath the red eyes. The monster—and she knew it was a monster—had inched forward, and it kept moving.

She didn’t scream, though she wanted to. Instead, she braced like Beth had shown her, ready to punch the monster if it came any closer.

It leapt for her, and then she did whimper a little, but its huge, scaly body never landed. Instead, a black-clad figure collided with it, sending them both rolling off into the trees. Her angel had saved her. She couldn’t see much the fight, so she shuffled closer, and gasped as she saw the angel dive out of the way of one of the monsters massive claws, before blasting the monster backwards with light. It roared, but the angel had already produced a spear from thin air and rammed it into the beast’s belly. Alex winced and covered her face with her hands, peering through her fingers when the sound of thrashing stopped. The angel waved a hand and the monster disappeared, disintegrating into nothing. Then he turned and strode across to her.

“What are you doing here, girl?”

“I saw the shooting star. Are you an angel?” she asked, staring up at him with unabashed awe.

He laughed. “Far from it, child.”

“Then how did you do that?”

“Magic.” She considered this for a moment. He was wearing weird clothes, all in black, and she knew she shouldn’t talk to strange men. But he had just saved her from a monster, and she could run home if she needed to.

“Can I see more?”

And he had shown her more, so much more—at first, simple tricks to delight her, then worlds she thought only existed in storybooks.

The trees blurred into a dappled canopy and she reached up to brush the tears from her cheeks. How could the man who’d so casually saved her life when she meant nothing to him, the same man who’d taken such delight in the adventures they shared, be the one who saw her entire race as something to crush beneath his heel? Who could kill without blinking and got aroused at the terror he inspired in others? Loki had always taken pleasure in mischief but nothing so craven.

She could no longer push away examining how she felt about him, and how she thought he felt about her. There was no other day to wait for—they were returning tomorrow and she would have to see him soon enough. But how did she decipher what he felt when he was the best liar in the universe? She couldn’t trust him.

On one hand, he’d come to find her, put himself at risk to take her from the helicarrier when she really hadn’t had a part to play in his plan to take over Earth—unless he’d been foiled before they got to the bit where she was needed. He’d told her he was just there to rescue her—a prince in shining armour—and he’d been protective of her the whole time. He’d even been tender, perhaps terrified, when she was hurt: the first time at his hands, the second time to stop the Tesseract. She hadn’t even been conscious for the second event but all the witnesses, Romanoff included, seemed convinced. He’d been so bitter that she thought he was a monster, but he’d still risked his own life to save hers. She’d heard his refusal to be separated for her, and it was all too clear after the escape attempt before Idun’s arrival that he could have left anytime he wanted. Thor and Idun were convinced at his feelings for her, and was there anyone in the universe who knew Loki better than Thor?

Then again, he’d known she was awake when he spoke to Thor, so his every word there had been designed to convince her as much as his brother. It always came down to the same thing: he lied, and he lied, and he lied.

He was arrogant, and he threw tantrums like the worlds most dangerous toddler, and he’d never once told her he loved her. But when she looked at all the pieces, there was no other reason for him to be this fixated on her. He thought her beautiful, had given her the nickname long before she knew what it meant, but she knew there were women on Asgard she could never compete with. She and Loki had a bond, built on friendship, something he’d never found elsewhere. He wouldn’t admit anything to her, not now, because he’d already suffered one defeat, and to have to reveal himself like that, even to her, would be another humiliation. He couldn’t afford to be vulnerable. It didn’t matter. His every action revealed the way he felt.

The knowledge, bone deep, that he really did love her was the scariest thing she’d ever experienced.

It was easy to admit to herself, in the soft twilight, that she still loved Loki—the Loki she knew before she lost the first test. He had never been an easy man to deal with but despite his flaws, despite the way he believed the universe to revolve around him, he’d always made up for it. He built his walls so high it took her years to convince him to open the gate, but for those scant moments when he did let her in she’d found something worth holding onto.

A tiny part of her wanted to make bargains with the universe, that she would do anything to bring that Loki back. The rest of her was ready to tear that part out and bury it here, among the dying leaves, because a bargain like that would only come back to haunt her. She’d gambled enough in her life for him. There might not be a way of bringing him back anyway; better to believe him dead, mourn him and move on with her life.

The danger in that lay in how willing Loki was to let her move on. Given chance, he would chase her, if only for the thrill of the hunt, to steal back what he believed belonged to him. Other people could—would—get hurt. He had her painted into a corner. But she wouldn’t be bullied by him, not anymore. Her choices were her own, and for every threat he made to manipulate her, she would make it known that he pushed her further away. Either he climbed his way out of the pit he’d fallen into or she would find some place in the universe to be free of him.

She stayed until the sun dipped level with the treetops, lighting up the clearing so it appeared the fallen leaves were aflame. She had to cross that barrier to return home, like walking through purifying fire, the tears burnt from her face.

Notes:

Since this is probably going to be the last chapter before Christmas...Merry Christmas/happy holidays etc etc (unless you're reading this story months down the line, in which case ignore this bit, or you don't do Christmas). I do intend to keep posting on my usual three/four day schedule, but I'm at home at my parents' house for the next few days, on my old laptop, which is a PITA. I hope to get some writing done so fingers crossed I don't get sucked into watching All The Television.

(I did bring my Thor and Avengers DVDs home to inflict them on my family, though).

See you post food/telly marathon!

Chapter 20: Folly

On a private jet bound for New York, Alex clutched the smurf to her chest. It still smelled like her childhood home.

She’d barely spoken to Romanoff for the ten days of the trip, though she knew the woman had been lurking around, ever watchful. Too watchful, perhaps.

“You’ve made a decision,” the agent said. She didn’t even look up from the magazine in her lap.

“How can you tell?”

“I can always tell.”

“Then, yeah, I’ve made a decision. Not that I think it’ll be easy to implement. I know how he’ll react, and I’m still not convinced I can stay strong enough to keep my distance. Despite everything, I do still feel…something for him.”

“Maybe that’s his doing. With time,it will fade and you’ll be able to disconnect from him. He’s been there your whole life, manipulating you into being what he wanted you to be. That has to come right down to how you feel about him.”

“I don’t think so. Don’t give me that look—it was never anything sinister. He didn’t come looking for a child bride. It was just circumstance that we met, and I think for a while I was the only pure thing in his life. I was in awe of him, and he didn’t get that anywhere else. I was the perfect audience—I never judged him, I never tried to outdo him, I always praised him. I think he always believed we’d have that dynamic.”

“But you’ve decided to walk away from him.”

“Yes.”

“For what it’s worth, I think it’s the right choice. No one should be tying themselves to someone like that. You’ll only end up hurt, whether the damage is emotional or physical.”

“I know. It’s not just about Loki, it’s about this whole immortality deal. I don’t want it. Just a few days ago I held my niece in my arms—someone twenty years younger than me, whose life has only just begun, but as of now, I’m going to stay frozen like this. She’ll grow up so quickly, and then she’ll pass me by, until not only is she older than me, she’s old. One day I’ll be burying her. That’s not how it’s meant to go—and that will happen to every single member of my family. I can’t live through that.”

“I understand. I wouldn’t choose immortality either. So what are you going to do?”

“When I’ve spoken to Idun, I want to go home. For good.”

Natasha made a noncommittal noise. “I’ll speak to Director Fury.” Alex knew that meant the issue had already been discussed and finalised without her input. They wouldn’t be letting her return to England. Not anytime soon. That was going to be a difficult thing to work around, but she’d been schooled by Loki. If anyone knew how to manipulate a situation to his advantage, he did. She had to have learned enough from him that she could convince them to let her go.

She cuddled the smurf tighter and stared through the window as England disappeared underneath the clouds.

---

The atmosphere in Stark Tower was thick enough to burst with a pin. That was the first thing Alex noticed when the elevator doors opened onto the room SHIELD had commandeered as their HQ. The floor in here had been relaid, but Manhattan beyond the window looked as smashed up as it had two weeks ago. The only difference now where the numerous cranes sprouting up across the skyline.

Thor was pacing in front of the window, and he hurried over to Alex before she’d been able to take three steps. Romanoff, who’d been behind her, was suddenly absent.

“I’ve been entrusted with delivering this to you,” he said, pressing something into her hand. She glanced down to find a pink-hued apple in her palm, barely bigger than a plum. “Lady Idun departed for Asgard this morning. She will inform my father that we will soon follow; Loki and I travel this eve.”

“Oh.” She rolled the apple between her fingers.

“She stated there is enough magic in only a few bites to undo the previous spell.”

“But it won’t affect my memories?”

“No. This is just to return your mortality.”

It didn’t feel like much of anything, this tiny little thing, but right now it was as precious to her as that smurf.

“Lady Alex…” Thor paused. “I understand you have made your decision. I would just ask that you bid goodbye to my brother before we depart. He likely faces imprisonment in Asgard, and with you a mortal again, I don’t believe he would be able to return to Midgard in your lifetime.”

“So when you leave tonight, it’ll be the last time I ever see him.”

“Yes.”

That was simpler than she expected. With him in prison on another planet, billions of miles away, the decision would be made for her. And she knew she needed to have that goodbye, to attempt to make peace with her oldest friend.

“Is he still locked in that room?”

Thor’s brow furrowed, his gaze avoiding hers. “I have had to leave him pinned under Mjolnir in your absence. He has become convinced that you had left this place and would not be returning—he hasn’t eaten, I don’t believe he’s slept…and though his magic is supposed to be frozen by the muzzle, at his most frenzied it has leaked. It’s affecting the electricity in this place, which is frustrating the man of iron and the man of fury no end. It’s preventing their recording devices from working, but I believe Loki is too far gone to have much control anymore.”

A spark of an idea flickered into being when he mentioned the recording devices being affected. That meant, right now, SHIELD couldn’t monitor their conversation. “Okay, I’ll see him. I have one thing to ask in return.” She doubted he’d be capable of helping her, not if he were leaving tonight, but it was worth a try.

“Anything, my lady.”

She dropped her voice to a whisper, avoiding the urge to stand on tiptoe to make it look too obviously like they were discussing a secret. “Can you persuade SHIELD to let me go? I mean for good. I want to go home, but I know they have no intention of letting me leave all this behind.”

“I will do what I can, but I fear my brother may have poisoned what favours I could have called on. The agents were also unhappy that I allowed Idun to take the sceptre with her, but I couldn’t allow it to remain on Midgard knowing the power it possesses. Nevertheless, I will speak with the man of fury on your behalf. Perhaps when Loki is away from this planet he will be more forgiving of those with links to him.”

That gave her plenty to worry about on the ride down to that floor. She tucked the apple away in her pocket, and noted the number of guards around the door had doubled.

“I will wait outside the door,” Thor said. “But I cannot leave it unlocked while you are in there.”

“I get it. Especially not with the magic leakage.” The thought that even Odin’s magic couldn’t fully bind Loki was more than a little concerning, but soon he’d be on the other side of the universe, and it would be up to the Allfather to deal with him.

The room was dark when she entered, the smell of sweaty leather and unwashed Loki so thick she gagged. When her eyes adjusted to the dark, she could see him slumped in that same chair she’d left him, and it appeared he was asleep. She took a few steps forward, then one back as the scent got even worse, and his eyes cracked open at the sound. Above, the strip light flickered back on with a sound like a mosquito getting zapped against a neon trap. He really was frying the electrics.

“You came back.” The crappy lighting didn’t help, but he looked like roadkill. His wounds had barely healed, his always sharp cheekbones now like knife blades and his skin an ashen grey. His hair was on the way to forming dreadlocks, and his eyes were crimson from all the broken blood vessels. “I thought you were gone for good.”

“No. But you will be soon.”

He managed half a smile, which carried absolutely no humour. “I’m not leaving you here.”

“It’s not your decision. Thor’s taking you home, and then I’m going home myself. For good.”

He forced himself upright, gaunt fingers clutching at the armrests on the chair. “Your home is with me. You once promised me that.”

“I made that promise to a different man.”

His wheezy laugh made the hairs stand up on end all down her spine. “It was me. Whether you want to admit that or not, you promised yourself to me.”

To steady herself, she slipped a hand into the pocket with the apple, fingers curling around it. She’d eat it as soon as she left this room, a ceremonial cutting of all ties with him. His gaze tracked the movement, eyebrows folding together as he worked it out.

She tensed, realising too late she’d given the game away. She expected fireworks—probably literally—but instead he collapsed in on himself, head lolling back and arms falling to his sides. His face contorted, grief welding itself to his features.

“I could feel her magic, you know,” he muttered, “all this time I could feel what she was doing, but I didn’t know what she was creating, but of course, of course, you asked her to take it back, and she’s given you what you need, and you’re really leaving me—”

Tears glistened on his cheeks, and in her shock she took another few steps forward before clamping down on the urge to brush them away.

“Please,” he said, the word barely a ghost on his breath, “please…” She expected him to beg her not to eat it. She knew what would come know: emotional blackmail, the threat to harm himself if she rejected him, the probable threat to harm everyone else too. “Please share it with me.”

“What?”

“If you must take it, if you really don’t want eternity, then let me share it too. Just one mortal life. I can’t make you so unhappy in that, can I?”

“You don’t mean that.”

“I do.”

“No.” He had to have an ulterior motive. He always did. “You just want to avoid going back to Asgard. You know you’re going to be punished, and this is the only way you can see to escape it.”

“There was a time you never once looked at me with judgement, or shame, or fear. Having that change is punishment enough.”

“You’re lying.” But even as she made the accusation, she didn’t believe it. She’d never seen him wear such raw emotion—she’d certainly never seen him cry. She wanted to escape it, like someone had cut him open and turned him inside out, and was making her stare at the result. “You couldn’t give up your immortality. Not your strength or your magic.”

“I could. They can take me to Asgard. They can lock me into the darkest dungeon for centuries, but I could survive that if I knew you were still out there, alive. Yet to know that you had such a brief life, and you would be dust before my sentence even really began…I would destroy everything. Asgard, Midgard, the very fabric of existence itself. I will not be without you.”

Giving humanity to Loki would not automatically make him the perfect man. Even without the ability to wage war, he could be cruel, and he’d carry a thousand years of issues within him that therapy would never be able to cure. Besides which, SHIELD would immediately lock him away for the rest of his life. But that Loki, the Loki who could learn, who could have his arrogance torn away when the reasons for it were removed, a Loki with no more power than she held—she could accept that. It was a compromise between the two warring factions inside her.

She retrieved the apple and took a bite, stepping close enough to Loki that she could hold it up to his lips. She met his bloodshot eyes, still holding tears waiting to fall.

Pain lanced through her jaw, and it took a moment to process why. Pressure, sliding down to her throat, and she was gasping for air, Loki’s hand gripping tight. The apple tumbled from her grasp into his lap. While her mouth gaped open and she struggled to scream, his fingers slid into her mouth. Out came the pieces of apple she’d bitten off, and only then he let go. She staggered to her knees and choked, retching up the apple he’d missed, while he tossed the rest into the air and burned it up into flame with a flick of his wrist.

“That’s quite enough of that folly.”

 

Notes:

I didn't want to post this chapter on Christmas Day since it's pretty un-Christmassy...but it's Boxing Day here so here you go!

Chapter 21: Square One

Loki reached for her again and she wasn’t quick enough to flinch away, even as she felt arms hauling her up. His fingers only grazed her skin, coolness bursting over the bruises he’d caused. Something crunched behind her, then she was out in the corridor, Thor slamming the door shut. Just before it closed she caught sight of Loki’s nose gushing blood. So that’d been the crunching.

“Lady Alex,” Thor said, frenzied, “I am sorry—I didn’t know—never thought—let me see to your wounds—”

He tipped her face up but any pain or soreness had vanished. “It’s okay. He healed me,” she mumbled, though it didn’t ease his frown.

“I’d have never permitted you to enter that room if I’d had an inkling he would assault you.”

“For what it’s worth, he didn’t hurt me for hurting’s sake.” She shot a nervous glance at the door. The room seemed silent but this close, she had the unnerving feeling he could still hear and see everything she was doing. “Can we..?” She nodded at the elevator, and Thor followed her inside.

“The apple’s destroyed,” he said.

“Yeah.” It was barely more than a gasp. She didn’t have the energy for more. All she was truly capable of was controlling the trembling of her body enough that she could keep moving.  “I was an idiot to take it in there with me.”

“Even in this state, my brother possesses eldritch intelligence. You couldn’t have known he would divine what you intended.”

“And now I’m back to square one.”

Despite the healing magic Loki followed the assault with, she could still feel an echo of his touch on her skin, pins and needles spreading throughout her. How could he do what he’d just done? Destroying the apple was a given, if he had the chance, but the way he’d gone about it... Even after everything she’d witnessed him do, she’d truly never expected to feel pain at his hands.

He’d crossed a line, broken an unspoken covenant between them. This was worse than if she’d found him with another woman. Not only could she not trust him, but now she feared him, where she never had before. It was a shattering feeling, and it was only going to get worse when her subconscious revisited the incident in her dreams.

They reached the room she now considered hers, which was depressing considering how bland and empty it was. Her bags had been brought up and the smurf was nestled against the pillow, but even that didn’t make it feel more homely. She couldn’t face endless months as a glorified prisoner here, no matter how generous Pepper was or how sumptuous the surroundings were. All the Louboutins in the world couldn’t gild this cage enough. “Could you ask Idun to come back?”

Thor sank onto the stool he’d once used while he guarded her door. “It is unlikely. While technically Lady Idun is free to travel as she pleases—as we all are—in truth, she was permitted to journey last time only because my father didn’t know she intended to do it. Now, he would likely thwart any attempt of hers to leave Asgard. She has duties, including tending the orchards where she grows the apples we rely on, and her visiting a realm that could be hostile would put us all at risk.”

“Then take me with you to Asgard.”

The words were out of her mouth before she’d really thought them through, but she didn’t regret them. It would solve two problems—she could ask Idun for another spell, hopefully outside of Loki’s destructive reach this time, and she’d be beyond even SHIELD’s reach.

“My lady, I would ask that you don’t acquiesce to my brother’s will so easily—”

“Not forever. I just want to see Idun. Then when I’m mortal again, you can send me home.”

Thor gave an unwary shake of his head. “If you travel with us, Loki will assume you intend to marry him.”

“Let him. Idun went ahead so they could prepare for your arrival, which I assume means Loki will be in lock down before he knows what’s happening. You don’t even have to help me when I’m there—I’ll get myself to Idun, and I’ll find you when I’m ready to go home. She already kind of offered me an invitation.”

“She did. And I wouldn’t abandon you to travel alone—you would be treated as a guest of the royal court.”

“And you can get me home, right?” she pushed on.

“Not by my own powers, but I’m sure it can be done.” Sure wasn’t a definite yes, but it was as close as she was going to get. “Although the agents will be unwilling to let you travel with us.”

“I’ve got a plan for that.”

Thor stared at her so hard she thought he was trying some kind of Jedi mind trick, before he finally gave a nod of assent. “Very well. I’m sure my brother will be far more cooperative when I tell him you are coming with us. We leave in only a few hours, and if you intend to fool the agents, you will be able to take very little with you.”

Alex glanced at the bag beside the bed. “Whatever I need, I can wear.”

---

The sun was a streak of mandarin on the skyline when they converged on the platform. Alex waited beside Pepper, glad that the slight chill gave her an excuse to wear her jacket. She’d been able to conceal more things that way, in the inside pockets.

“Oh, you’re trembling,” Pepper said, her hand covering Alex’s. “I can’t imagine how you feel. I don’t have much reason to like Loki, but it can’t be easy knowing this is the last time you’ll see him.” Alex gave a short nod, glad that was how her nervousness was being interpreted. So long as she didn’t throw up on Fury’s shoes again, she was golden. Romanoff stood on the opposite side of the platform, her arms folded, and her gaze did not leave Alex.

Out in the dusk, Tony Stark soared in his metal contraption, ready to contain Loki if he tried to invoke any more mischief. Coulson stood beside Alex, not a twitch betraying an emotion. “You don’t have to be here, you know,” he said. “It might be safer if you aren’t.”

“He won’t go without me,” she said. “You know that. We have to convince him that I’m going with them.”

“You sure you can fool him?” Pepper asked.

“It’s what he wants to hear, so he’ll believe it.”

Coulson gave her a level stare. “Are you sure you don’t want to go with him?”

She met the stare. “I have no intention of spending the rest of my life on Asgard.” The best lies weren’t lies at all. It was how Thor had convinced Loki that she was going with them: told him what he needed to know and no more.

The small crowd heard the gods before they saw them. Coulson hoisted his weapon to waist level, its barrel pointed at the door they would emerge through. The weapon looked suspiciously like a rocket launcher. The other agents had their own weapons, of varying sizes, including tasers that she was pretty sure gave a heftier punch than the ones you’d find elsewhere. If this went wrong, she hoped she wasn’t in the way, because no one was prepared to let Loki escape. She was immortal (for now), but only if she stayed clear of firepower intended to level gods.

Thor exited the doorway, hauling Loki in one hand and Mjolnir in the other. Loki’s gaze swept the platform and when it found her locked on, blue fire that she could feel even when she looked away. Even behind the muzzle she could see his triumph. Thor dragged him to the cleared centre of the platform, and two agents stepped forward with a suitcase, kneeling to click it open. The sound of cocking guns and loading tasers echoed around the space, but Loki only responded with an unconcerned shrug.

The Tesseract was lifted out of the case, its eerie brilliance now encased in an intricate handheld device, with two handles. Thor took the end proffered to him and gestured Alex forward.

She wanted to turn and hug Coulson. If, when, she returned to Earth, she’d probably be hunted by SHIELD and seeing him would be an undesirable circumstance. He’d done so much for her, but she couldn’t betray to him that this was likely goodbye. The same was said for Pepper, who’d been kind on the few occasions they’d met—even Romanoff was someone she’d maybe consider a friend, if circumstances were different. But they weren’t, and she couldn’t tip any of them off, especially not the already suspicious Romanoff.

So without a backwards glance at the people who’d done so much to keep her safe, she stepped up to Thor, taking his hand.

It was like a punch to the gut. The Tesseract had been waiting for her to return, and even though she didn’t have direct contact with it, even through the transportation device and Thor’s entire body, it was there, like tentacles trying to worm inside her. She leaned against Thor to steady herself, taking a deep breath before the journey to come. Loki grasped the other handle, and Thor straightened. Alex slipped an arm around his waist, as firm a grip as she could manage, while he twisted the handle. Across the platform Romanoff was in motion, somersaulting over to pull her away, but it was too late. In a blur of cyan light, they were gone from the Earth.

 

Notes:

And welcome to the final story arc of Not Forgotten, wherein we find our heroine on Asgard. When I started writing this story, I never saw that coming! I do, finally, have a solid conclusion planned for the story (there was always an ending in mind but it was pretty vague). Not that we'll be getting there any time soon ;).

Hope everyone had a lovely Christmas. If you'll excuse me I've got some more scheming to do.

Chapter 22: Gold

It was perhaps one of Alex’s proudest moments when they came to rest on the splintered end of the Bifrost and she didn’t empty her stomach contents over the Allfather’s boots.

The universe was still spinning around her in a whirl of colour, like a strobe light in her peripheral vision, but she forced herself to stay upright and meet the king of the gods’ eye. She thought he gave a fraction of a nod, before everyone around her starting moving like they hadn’t just stepped out of an acid-tinged version of a teacup ride, even Thor.

His apparent ease with the journey made more sense when he handed the Tesseract over to his father. Odin barely glanced at the cube, and with a tiny gesture it vanished into thin air.

Her tenuous connection with it cut off. The nest of vipers resident in her stomach abruptly departed, the pressure in her head and across her chest lifting, though her knees still protested their use. Thor increased his grip on her, concern lacing his features as he stared down.

“Did the Tesseract affect you?” he asked, and she nodded her head mutely. Beyond him, Loki’s gloating expression had turned altogether more pensive, and he couldn’t seem to decide whether to focus on her or Odin.

“It can have a lasting affect on those it has touched,” Odin said. “But it is locked away again where it will not be able to reach out to anyone. You’ll not feel that way again.”

A clink of metal caught her attention and she turned back to Loki. She’d thought it strange no soldiers had rushed forward to restrain him when they arrived, but now saw Odin had been weaving his own kind of magic, more effective than any soldiers would be against Loki. The irons that had bound him at wrist and ankle had changed, flowing to encase his entire body like armour, only there were no concessions made for joints or movement. He was trapped in the metal, which rose as far as his collarbones, and the muzzle still encased the lower half of his face. Any fury, any fear, he wanted to express were as locked in as the rest of him.

Alex’s stuttered gasp was lost behind Thor’s own bellow. “Father, this isn’t right! He should remain chained, but this--this is--”

“Necessary,” the Allfather interrupted. “It is only temporary, until his true punishment has been conveyed by the court. Until then, this is the only way I can be sure he has no means of escape.”

His tone allowed for no argument, and Thor glared but didn’t protest further. He gave his brother a sorrowful look, one met with cold hatred.

“It will not be for long,” Odin continued. “Before the day is out, he will know his fate.”

“Then you do not intend to try him. You move straight to sentencing.”

“He confessed his actions against this realm before he fell from the Bifrost. While they were misguided--I cannot call them well-intentioned--they were still treasonous. Besides which, his deeds on Midgard were well recorded by Heimdall. We know his guilt, so what use is there for a trial?”

Odin gestured for the soldiers around their group and a handful moved forward carrying a stretcher, though she supposed a litter was a more appropriate term. They tipped Loki backwards onto it, none too delicately, so he could be carried.

It was surreal to be surrounded by men in such outlandish attire, even if she’d grown used to Loki’s sense of fashion and the way Thor had dressed around Stark Tower. One man in metal, leather and a cape was very different to a dozen of them, especially with the helmets they wore. Though it hardly seemed practical, combined the stern set of their faces and their immense size it was an intimidating uniform. Even with all the gold.

They weren’t the only eye catching thing in gold. Beyond them, the palace of Asgard waited at the far end of the Bifrost, spires piercing the sky. She’d seen it once before, when Loki brought her here to be tested, but it was possible you could never get used to that sight. Even the towers of Manhattan paled in comparison.

“Have you ever ridden?” Thor asked, nodding towards three horses being held several paces away.

“Yes. Your brother made sure I knew how to ride.” They approached the horses with Loki carried behind them, and Thor helped her up into the saddle of a chestnut mare.

“I’m afraid Lady Idun has already departed for the orchards,” Odin told her. “We will provide you with an escort in the morning to follow her. As it is, it’s too late in the day to begin such a journey, and you should rest first. Thor can accompany you back to the palace while I ensure my youngest arrives safely.”

This time, even through the muzzle, Loki managed to howl, his attention on her furious.

“That’s right,” she said. “I didn’t come here because I gave in to you. I’m here to see Idun. Then I’m going home.”

She nudged the horse in the direction of the palace, and with a yell to Thor, set off in a trot, leaving Loki and all his anger behind for the time being.

---

Alex let Thor take the lead as they approached the palace, hoping to fade into his shadow among the waiting crowd. They cheered his return and she passed mostly unnoticed, earning a few curious glances but nothing more. Her clothes probably didn’t help, since everyone here was in the same Middle-Ages-goes-metallic gear the soldiers wore.

The Bifrost became a boulevard that led straight to the palace gates, beyond which a tree-lined bridleway took them to the vast entrance doors. Thor helped her dismount and servants rushed up to stable the horses, while he took her into a hall that was clad in a continent’s worth of marble.

Corridors branched away and she followed Thor through them, praying that she never had to find her own way out of the palace. He gave an occasional greeting to the people they passed, but the heavy set of his brow deterred people from trying to engage him in pleasantries. The decor didn’t get any less eye-catching and they soon reached another troupe of guards at the end of another hallway.

“My lord,” the one closest said, standing aside. Thor swept past without a response and Alex scuttled after him.

“These are our private quarters. Father will have arranged for your a set of chambers to be prepared for you for the night.” He still seemed unhappy about what had been done to Loki on the bridge.

Ahead, a figure stepped out before them, the gold of her dress fading into the matching colour of the walls. Alex knew even by her stance that this was someone important, before Thor swept on ahead to greet her.

“Mother,” he said, pulling her into a hug, and Alex hung back to let them have a moment. That the woman was a queen was evident up close, even without a crown, since she outdressed Idun. It was in the way she held herself, the way she schooled her features, the way she moved--royalty shone from her pores, like it often did with her sons.

She had a moment of not knowing whether she should bow or curtsy, but the queen solved that for her by taking her by the hand and kissing it. “I am Frigga,” she said by way of introduction, “and you are the mortal girl who my son loves.”

When she’d met Odin the first time around, there had been a hint of accusation in the way he spoke to her, like she’d set out to trap herself a god. With Frigga, there was no judgement, just warmth and an undercurrent of sorrow. She didn’t release Alex’s hand, clasping it between her own.

“I am,” she replied, floundering around for something else to say. “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

“I wish the circumstances were not as they are.”

“Me too.”

Frigga looked to her eldest, finally letting Alex’s hand go. “How is he?”

“Tired. He hasn’t eaten or bathed in weeks. Father says he is to be sentenced immediately.”

“Not immediately. This evening.” Though it had been dusk on Earth, here on Asgard it was still afternoon, judging by the blue of the skies they’d ridden under. “I’ll ensure he is fed before then.”

Thor opened his mouth to speak again, and Alex thought he was going to mention the way Loki was imprisoned in the metal suit, but he paused, changing his mind. “Mother, Lady Alex has travelled long this day and faces another long journey tomorrow. She needs rest and nourishment of her own.”

“Her rooms are ready. I’ll escort her, you should arrange for the kitchens to prepare a meal for the both of them.”

Alex shot a wide-eyed glance in Thor’s direction, but he was already obeying his mother’s command. Frigga took her arm, which made Alex feel tiny and grubby in comparison. She hadn’t showered since leaving England and her jeans hadn’t been fresh on that morning.

“I wish we could have met the first time you came to Asgard,” Frigga began, leading Alex further down the corridor. “While it was not within my power to stop you from being tested, I’m often a better judge of character than my husband. He’s too suspicious of everyone. I know, from speaking to Lady Idun, that he did not follow her instructions, and that decision cost us all dearly. Perhaps I could have ensured he gave you a chance to pass the test.”

Alex weighed up her next words, given she was speaking to Loki’s mother and a goddess to boot. “Despite everything that’s happened since then, I’m glad now that I never had the chance to pass. I made decisions without being able to appreciate what they meant.”

“You believe you’d be unhappy with Loki, if you’d become his wife at that time?”

“I think I was blind to his faults, so while I would have been happy, it wouldn’t have stopped any of this from happening.”

“You think so? I have often wondered if I had known when he lost you, that any comfort I could have provided would have swayed him from the path he set himself on.”

“Honestly...I doubt it. More and more I’m coming to think that even with me on Asgard, he was too jealous of Thor to let him gain the throne without trying to prove himself the better option to their father. His bitterness at being second-best is too ingrained, and I don’t think having a wife would have changed that. I’d have been too clueless to know what to do to dissuade him. Worst case scenario, I’d have found myself trapped here, thinking I was a widow and probably on treason charges myself.”

They passed a set of doors with a walled garden beyond it, fountains glinting in the sunlight. Frigga was quiet as she processed what Alex had said.

“You may be right. I am a believer in fate, so whatever led us to this point was meant to be. I am, however, sorry for all the hurt my son has inflicted on you, whether he intended to cause you pain or not. For what it’s worth, I know he would never willingly harm you and you mean more to him than any of us. That’s not an easy thing for a mother to admit.”

She didn’t know about what had happened that day. She couldn’t, not the way she was speaking about Loki. Despite everything else she knew, Loki’s attack on Alex--whatever his desire to hurt her--hadn’t been relayed to her. Or perhaps the news hadn’t travelled that quickly.

And Alex couldn’t tell her. Not when the woman was so clearly heartbroken over everything that had happened with Loki.

“It doesn’t matter,” Alex said. “He’s going to be punished for everything he’s done, and I’m going home.”

“In that regard, I do have a small favour to ask. Would you accompany Thor and myself to the sentencing? You will be the only representative from Midgard, though you won’t be asked to speak, and I need someone with me who at least feels some sympathy for my son. His father will be acting as king, so I am unable to rely on him for support. Thor must stand beside his father. Few in this realm would feel any sorrow for Loki. You, I fear, may be my only kindred spirit.”

They’d turned down a short hallway that ended in a wide, elaborately carved door. Outside the door Frigga paused, waiting for Alex’s answer. Alex, in turn, had to brace herself against the wall at a sudden realisation.

“People keep talking about a sentence, but no one’s told me what the outcome could be. Will they..?”

“No, my child,” Frigga replied softly. “He won’t be executed.”

Alex released her breath. Despite the almost claustrophobic urge to get away from him, she never wanted that. “Good.”

“Trust me, if that was a risk, I wouldn’t ask you to be present. I wouldn’t attend myself. Although treason is one of the charges against him, the king has already explained that Loki’s actions were never intended to gain the throne for himself--at least not without my husband’s approval--and he only planned to kill King Laufey. Given the history between our races, few mourn Laufey, or even disapprove of Loki’s attempt to destroy Jotunheim. Beyond that, his invasion of Midgard was not a crime against us, so we cannot punish him for it. Therefore I am confident he will live. Nor will he be exiled, as the king wants to know where he is to ensure he doesn’t repeat this folly.”

“So what will happen?”

“Most likely, he will be imprisoned.” A frown briefly marred Frigga’s forehead, and it dissuaded Alex from pressing for further information. There seemed to be other options still available, and she knew Odin could be ruthless. Loki might not be killed, but horribly maimed didn’t seem to be off the table either.

That wasn’t something she wanted to hear, but it would be cowardice to avoid knowing about Loki’s fate. If she didn’t know precisely what had happened to him, she’d spend the rest of her life looking over her shoulder, waiting for him to be free. Hearing Odin proclaim his punishment would alleviate that. She’d also gain an ally in Frigga, who might know of a way to get her home, instead of Alex having to rely on Odin’s mercy.

“I’ll come,” she told Frigga. “I need to know what happens.”

“Thank you,” the queen replied, her smile weary. “I will arrange for an escort to come for you at the time. In the meantime, food is on its way.” She pushed the door open, to show Alex a room roughly the size of her parents’ house. “You may rest and bathe and take full advantage of our hospitality. For now, I need to give my son all the care I am permitted to.”

Alex remembered to call out “Thank you,” as Frigga walked away, before shutting the door behind her.

---

The food was amazing. The room was huge. The bath was incredible. The view from the balcony was breathtaking. The bed was the softest she’d ever slept in. Alex wished she was in the mood to enjoy any of it.

She ate, she napped, she washed, she changed into the simplest dress she could find in the closet. Then she paced, watching the sun sink closer to the horizon. No time had been given for the sentencing to take place, and she had no way of telling the time here anyway. This, this was going to be the last time she saw Loki, and she had no right to complain about anything they wanted to do to him in punishment. Not after what he’d done to Earth. His mother could fight for leniency; she was just a witness.

When stars finally lit the sky, an unfamiliar map in the heavens, a knock came at the door.

Thor waited for her in full ceremonial costume, which involved a flowing red cape and a feathered helmet. She was once again struck by how comical the sight should have been, and how intimidating it was instead, especially with the set of his jaw and the way his fists were balled at his sides.

“Lady Alex,” he said with a bow of his head. “I am glad you agreed to accompany my mother this evening. You have a good heart, despite everything. It still grieves me that you will not be becoming a member of this family, given how worthy you would be of your place.”

She didn’t respond, mainly because she had no response to give. She liked Thor and she’d warmed to Frigga in the space of a ten minute conversation, but they were perhaps the most dysfunctional family in the universe. And royalty. Her five year old inner self thrilled at the idea of being a princess, but her adult self knew she wasn’t built to rule.

She didn’t even try to remember the path Thor took her on back through the labyrinthine halls of the palace. It ended in a room completely clad in gold, with a dais topped in a throne. Odin himself sat in the throne, a vision of a white-haired old wizard from here. He clutched a golden sceptre and wore an elaborate horned helm instead of a crown. Other grand chairs had been set round the base of the throne, and black-cloaked figures occupied them. Thor led her round the back of the hall, to where Frigga waited at the front of the small crowd facing the dais.

Frigga gripped her hand and Thor gave another bow before heading to take one of the chairs for himself. The crowd behind them were all dressed in finery, even the outfits that incorporated decorative armour, and when Alex glanced across at the nearest cluster she found a dark-haired woman glaring at her. Only a raised eyebrow from Frigga made her look away, abashed.

“Don’t worry,” Frigga whispered. “Sif means well. She is judging you for your connection to Loki, despite the fact that she called him friend for hundreds of years. When she is made aware of the full story, she will repent.”

“It’s fine,” Alex said, deliberately keeping her gaze averted from where Sif stood. “I suppose people are going to make judgements when they don’t know everything.”

Without meaning to, she sought out Loki, who was propped up in the middle of a knot of soldiers, directly in front of the the dais. She was off to the side and the suit didn’t allow him to turn his head, which she appreciated. He looked better than he had earlier, his hair no longer matted and his cheeks fuller. He’d obviously accepted the care his mother had offered. The muzzle had also been removed, though the bruises it had caused lingered on his skin, his lips still cracked. Among the gleaming citizens of Asgard he couldn’t have looked less regal, but he held his head high, a smirk threatening to spread even now.

A trickle of people entered the hall, before one of the guards closed the door, allowing the clang to echo round the chamber. The undercurrent of hushed whispers died.

Odin stood.

“We are here tonight to deliver sentence on Prince Loki, for his crimes against this throne. The highest court of this realm has already convened in his absence to deliberate on what would be a just and fair punishment for these crimes, and now he has returned this punishment shall commence immediately.”

There was a pause, but a new voice rang out over the crowd. A voice Alex knew all too well.

“Am I to be denied the right to speak in my defense? I believe you’ll be very interested in what I have to say.”

And there was the smirk.

Notes:

Longest chapter yet! Posted in celebration of the New Year, since I am uber cool and having nothing better to do. Happy 2013!

Chapter 23: The bargain

Odin stared at Loki without expression for so long Alex began to wonder if time had stood still. The rest of the hall held their tongues, just as she did, waiting for a reaction.

They were probably curious about what Loki wanted to say, and she couldn't deny she was too, but the knots in her stomach and the fresh memory of his hand on her throat reminded her no good could come from him speaking. He was up to mischief, at best, and spinning some plot that would end in more violence, at worst. Thor obviously felt the same way; he was glaring at his brother with no small amount of suspicion.

When Odin spoke, there was still a lack of emotion to his words. "You may answer any question I ask of you, and no more." His proclamation was quiet but the words carried in the quiet of the hall.

Loki opened his mouth to speak again and frowned when he could go no further, his eyes narrowing to slits as he met the king's gaze. So Odin's statement wasn't just empty words—Loki really couldn't speak unless he was asked to. Odin knew his son too well.

"What information do you have for the court that you believe will have bearing on your sentence?" he asked.

"The Chitauri track the Tesseract still," Loki replied, expression poisonous. "It will lead them to Asgard."

That shocked the quiet out of the room. People didn't even bother to whisper their alarm, breaking into conversation with those around them, making it too easy to pick out the words they used: invasion, war, traitor. Even the black-cloaked figures were leaning across to each other to talk.

Loki's eyes closed as he basked in the small amount of chaos he'd been able to cause.

"I see," Odin continued, his focus entirely on Loki. "How does this affect our ruling on you?"

"I have knowledge that will help defeat them—but I will only discuss this matter in private. Not on open display like a common criminal."

The king's angry growl was enough to make Alex flinch, but Loki just raised his eyebrows in challenge. "Very well," he snapped. "You are all dismissed. The court will reconvene when I call it."

Some of the crowd hesitated, some were quick to flee, and Alex glanced around wondering where she should go. Thor was one of the only seated figures not moving and Odin had made no move to chastise him, so she figured this was going to be royal business. She didn't know anyone here but royalty. Maybe she could corner a guard and ask them to show her the way back to her chambers.

"Is there something else?" Odin asked, and she realised Loki had been shaking his head.

"Not her. She needs to stay."

She should have escaped while she had the chance. Frigga caught her arm and Odin fixed his beady eye on her from across the room. Curious gazes found her, including that of the furious Sif.

"OUT! All of you," Odin repeated. The crowd scarpered, leaving only the royal family of Asgard, Alex and a handful of guards in the vast hall. Frigga urged her forward until they were clustered round the dais, the chairs now gone, Odin regally positioned on the throne. Alex placed herself between Thor and his mother so she couldn't see Loki unless she had to, Thor forming an effective wall between them.

"You have your privacy and your tongue has been loosened," Odin told Loki.

"And I appreciate it, my liege." Odin did not appear impressed at the title. "You know already that the Chitauri seek the Tesseract, which is why you bade Thor bring it back to Asgard, to dissuade them from invading Midgard. You hope to conceal it from them, but their leader knows if I have been captured it will be in your hands again."

"I would look less happy about that situation, if I were you," Odin warned. "You've brought war to Asgard after centuries of peace. You, who once mocked your brother's impetuous nature and his eagerness for war. You held contempt for his actions against Jotunheim, yet you find yourself repeating his errors. He learned and grew in his exile, but it is clear you have not."

She couldn't resist peeking at Loki's face then, just to watch the smirk falter and fade into a stony mask.

"War was never my intention."

"What was your intention?"

"Claiming the birth right you raised me to believe I was owed. A throne."

It was Odin's turn to frown, though he didn't respond. Frigga stepped forward as if she had something to say, but he waved her back, and she turned an unhappy glance his way.

"However, as circumstances stand I'm willing to bargain," Loki continued. "You believe you can hold fast and defeat an invading army, as you always have, but you don't know the power their leader wields. He is not Chitauri and he can bend the universe as well as you or I."

"What do you mean?" Thor asked. "Who is he?"

"I know only his name—Thanos—not his origin, nor how he came to lead the Chitauri. It was he who found me in the void the Bifrost created, and him I made my bargain with. It may take the Chitauri some time to reach Asgard without the Tesseract to speed their journey but he will find ways to hasten it nevertheless. And when they do arrive, even if he brings only the scantest of forces, I am not confident he will be kept out of the realm by even the impressive defences we have. He has manipulated the cube from across time and space before and could do so again."

Alex was on the wrong planet entirely, it seemed, about to be smack bang in the middle of another war.

"You have a proposition, then, to earn your freedom?"

"Of course, Allfather." He put a little too much emphasis on the title, and Alex saw Frigga's expression fall. Their family drama was going to take years to resolve, if it ever could be. Alex's presence was definitely not going to help with that.

"So let us hear it."

"I take the Tesseract to Thanos."

"Brother!" Thor warned. "This is no time for jesting."

Frigga huffed an exasperated sigh. "Loki, be serious."

"Are you out of your mind?" Alex said.

Once more, Loki was delighting in the reactions he caused. "I am perfectly serious. Even Thanos, with all the skill he has, is woefully equipped to detect illusion."

"You intend to take him a replica of the Tesseract," Odin guessed.

"One even he will not be able to distinguish from the original, one imbibed with a fraction of its power to sate him for a time. I will tell him I escaped from Asgard with it and brought it to him. He has already warned me that if I failed to deliver it I would suffer, so I have motive to do so—I also have reason to want to escape this realm. I will take my leave before he has chance to discover the lie and return for whatever punishment you feel I am still owed. In the meantime, we will have chance to prepare Asgard. It will, if nothing else, buy the realm time."

It sounded a dubious plan to Alex's ears, with it all hinging on Thanos and the Chitauri believing the fake cube to be the real thing. Then again, if anyone was going to be able to pull of that lie, it was Loki.

"You will need to siphon some of the Tesseract's power into the duplicate," said Odin.

"Enough to travel there and back, and for Thanos to perform a few simple tests to be convinced. No more."

Odin gave a grudging nod. "I will consider this idea. However, I fail to see what guarantee we have that you will return to us, rather than take the chance to join our enemies. This seems an opportune way for you to escape what punishment awaits you."

"Why, my king, you have the perfect hostage for my good behaviour already in your palm."

"No." She couldn't look at either of them, Loki or Odin. How could he? How could he? She'd been here mere hours and Loki was already entangling her in the very machinations she'd wanted to avoid.

"You would use her to bargain?" Odin asked, and Alex stared up the dais, shaking her head.

Loki inclined his head. "You know I will return to Asgard when I have completed my part of the plan. If—and only if—she remains on Asgard. Immortal."

"You can't!" she yelled, still facing Odin. "You have no right!" Hands gripped her arms, though she'd made no attempt to move, and she was aware of vague, soothing murmurs from Thor and Frigga even as she ignored them. "I belong on Earth. I failed your test, you should make me mortal again and send me home."

"Would you really do that?" Loki continued. "Would you send her back to Midgard, defenceless, to be locked away by their soldiers until that monster arrives to butcher her? He knows of our connection and he will target her for it."

"Don't you dare, not after what you did today—"

"For your own good."

"Does your father know? Your mother? Do they know how you grabbed me by the throat just so you could get your own way?"

Odin remained passive, though Frigga gasped beside her. Alex turned to the other prince. "Thor, you promised. Tell them I have to go home."

"Lady Alex—"

"I'm sorry, child," Odin cut in, addressing her directly. "I've made my decision. This is both for your own protection, and for the protection of the innocent souls of this realm. Once the danger has passed, things may change."

"NO!" She was on the second step of the dais before Thor caught her, dragging her away and across the hall. She caught sight of Loki's face and for once he wasn't gloating that his plan had worked. He had control again. He would always be in control of her life. When he returned from his fun with the Chitauri, he'd find another way of keeping her here. He'd never let her go. "I will never forgive you for this," she spat, still struggling against Thor's grip.

"Perhaps not. But better you alive and hating me than dead, my love," he responded, and for once there was something like real sorrow in his voice.

The door to the hall shut in her face, sealing her off from Odin and any chance of going home. Her angry curses bounced off the walls all the way back to her chambers.

Chapter 24: Fear

Thor locked the door behind him when he left, and she knew there was no escaping these rooms for now. The vague urge to smash and rip the finery around her was there, but it wouldn’t change a thing, and some poor servant would just have to fix it all.

Though her mind was screaming, her body was exhausted after such a long day—she’d spent a morning in England, an afternoon in Manhattan, then a repeat of the afternoon and an evening here. She yanked the dress over her head and let it fall to the floor, then threw herself onto the bed—another sumptuous bed, symbol of yet another captivity. Her mind refused to quiet.

She’d been such an idiot to make the decision to come with them to Asgard; she’d put no thought into it at all. She could have asked Thor to speak to Idun on her behalf, and he could have found a way to send an apple back to her. She knew he intended to return to Earth in the future. If she’d been patient, even if she’d had to wait years, she could have held out until then. Time she had in abundance, so it wouldn’t have made a difference.

But no, she’d made a rash choice, and of course Loki had known she’d do this in her desperation. She’d been stupid enough to allow him to destroy the apple and then even more pathetic to allow him to pull all the strings. Once more, her life was out of her own hands. She was outmatched when it came to the people she was surrounded by—going from being Loki’s pet, to SHIELD’s captive, to Odin’s hostage. Another round as Loki’s pet was inevitably in her future.

At some point, while her thoughts ran in circles, sleep snuck in.

---

“You mustn’t scream. If you scream, you lose.”

She wants to scream, has to bite her lip to keep her mouth closed, because if she opens it she will start and never stop. The interior of the labyrinth is utterly black, the air heavy to breathe, and the only thing that convinces her she hasn’t been tossed into the vacuum of space is the rock beneath her feet. Beyond that she has no way of finding her way to her goal, just the two instructions: find Loki; don’t scream.

They’ve shut her in here with Fear. She’s not sure how that works, apart from the insistent goosebumps on her skin and the sense that something is out there waiting for her. She doesn’t know what Fear can do—is it allowed to hurt her? Can it even do that? All they gave her was a name, a suggestion, and that’s completely unfair because suggestion is what Fear thrives on anyway.

Reaching out, one arm to the front and one to the side, she begins to shuffle forward, feeling her way with her feet so she doesn’t accidentally drop into a bottomless pit. If she keeps moving forward, steadily, then eventually she’ll find a wall or something to follow. If it’s a labyrinth, there must be passageways, and if there are passageways there must be walls. She shuffles on, stopping every so often to listen, but the only sound is her own breathing. There are no echoes, no sounds to assist her.

She could be in here for days. She realises, then, that they forgot to tell her if there was a time limit. Would they pull her out after a while, if she begins to starve and wither? She knows all she has to do is ask and they will retrieve her, but what if she doesn’t ask and she doesn’t scream? What then? She supposes dying would be seen as another way of losing. She can’t lose. Not when Loki is waiting for her at the centre of the labyrinth.

Her hand abruptly brushes cold stone, and she steps back with a muffled yip. When the shock has passed she sets both hands on it, grateful for the presence of something so solid in this empty corner of the universe. Keeping her left hand on it, she begins to follow its trail, keeping to the awkward shuffling rhythm. It’s slow going.

She thinks she sees a flash of red in front of her, but it’s gone before she can blink.She stares at the place she believed it had been. There’s nothing, just more solid blackness. It’s merely her eyes playing tricks, trying to compensate for the lack of stimulation. But then, there it is again—a flicker of scarlet in her peripheral vision.

She pauses. Two dots of scarlet. Not dots. Eyes.

“You should have listened, little girl. This is no world for you.”

It’s not a voice she recognises, though the eyes are familiar.

“I’ll do whatever I have to,” she says. The monster laughs, so cold there should be ice crystals forming on the wall beside her.

“You aren’t worthy, mortal girl. I should have killed you while you were still toddling.”

“You’re not the drake. He killed the drake. The eyes are an illusion.”

Fear is unimpressed with her deduction. “You think there is but one drake in this universe?”

“I think you know what scares me and you’re going to try and play on that.”

“Very well.” And it did.

When the visions have stopped—the worst of her nightmares, played out on a canvas of the shadows—and she has refused to scream, Fear changes tack. His voice changes, becoming altogether more familiar and intimate, though with a chill to it she’d never heard before.

“You think I want you?” Loki says. “You, the pathetic creature I once had the misfortune of rescuing and who’s dogged my steps ever since? The mewling girl who threw herself at me and thought I’d find her feeble body desirable? I brought you here to shake you free once and for all, you miserable barnacle, and here you shall rot.”

“You’re not Loki.”

“Of course I am. You know my voice. You know, deep down, there is no part of you worthy of me.”

“Loki loves me. You’re lying.”

“Ah, my dear, I am the god of lies, and I have spun you the cruelest of untruths just to appease you these last few years. I can fool anyone, least of all a Midgardian child.”

“He doesn’t lie to me. It’s not his words, it’s the way he acts that let me know—it’s you who’s lying.”

On and on, Fear picking at the scab inside her, but she doesn’t bend. She remembers their first kiss, the way he asked her to come to Asgard and be his wife. She is worthy, if he thinks so.

In the end, Fear capitulates.

“You’ve impressed me, mortal. Not one scream. You may succeed in this yet.”

“I intend to.”

“I can help, you know.”

“You can?”

“Of course. I see all. If I know what scares you, why wouldn’t I know where you should go?”

“Why would I trust you? You’re evil.”

“Oh, child. I’m not evil. I am Fear. Fear is neither good or evil; it just is. And I will help you because you along the way, I will get to have some fun.”

“You will hurt me?”

“No. But I promise I will try to make you scream.”

And Fear does as it promises, lighting the passages with a glow she can’t find the source for, just bright enough there are still shadows for it to throw scares at her from. She is resolute, and it continues to fail.

“Here. Through the door,” it finally whispers, and she can see the door it means ahead, shining gold against the rough-hewn rock. She is cautious as she approaches, waiting for the final trap to spring, but when she grips the handle all is still. This is it. She will be Loki’s wife.

She twists and pulls, and the light on the other side is so bright she has to screw her eyes shut, opening them gradually to allow them to adjust after all that darkness. When she can focus, she realises the man she is staring at is not her beloved. It’s Odin, with the most sorrowful expression she’s ever seen another person wear.

She screams, and Fear finally collects its reward.

---

She woke herself up repeating the scream, though she swallowed it down when she realised it was just a dream, an echo of the last time she’d been in this realm. The sight of the room around her and the realisation she was back in the place those events had happened in didn’t help calm her much. She reached for the pitcher of water on the table beside the bed, chugging down a glass while she tried to force her mind to remain blank. The light creeping around the heavy drapes was a faint blue, so it was only just dawn.

Trying not to think rarely worked, but she had nothing pleasant to force her thoughts towards. It was either the memory of her test, and how Fear had tricked her into failing, or going over what had happened yesterday again. Her mind chose for her, and even after everything that’d happened since, she still had to fight back tears as she relived the moment she’d realised she’d lost Loki.

God, she’d been so convinced about the way he felt about her at the time. It’d been her talisman against Fear’s tricks, and ultimately her downfall. She’d been too confident; all that time with Loki had made her believe no one could trick her, not when she’d spent years with the ultimate trickster. In the short term Fear had done her a favour, but here she was once again, locked up with no way out.

She’d never felt so small. Here she was among kings and gods, batted about by the winds of fate while those more powerful—or more cunning—blew her in the direction they desired.

In England, she’d promised her mother she’d be back. She’d promised her niece she’d be home again. Now it looked like she’d be unable to fulfil that promise. She hoped Loki really was prepared for her to hate him, because if she never saw her family again, she would hold it against him forever.

Notes:

Home from work with the flu, so have an update.

Chapter 25: A very gilded cage

As the sun rose, she searched the chambers for any secret escape route that might have been forgotten about when they gave her this room. The balcony was out of the question—it was a sheer drop down a cliff-side and even if she knotted the drapes and sheets together to use as a rope, they wouldn't be long enough. Besides which, a raven was perched on the handrail, seemingly ignoring her while it groomed itself, but she knew better. Loki had told her plenty of tales about Odin's avian spies.

The chambers themselves formed an L-shape, with the main door leading into a living room of sorts, opening onto the balcony through whatever the Asgardians called French doors. The bedroom was around the corner, and the bathroom beyond that. Sumptuous as it all was, the smooth walls gave no hint of doorways to secret passageways. The floors were tiled in marble with the occasional ornate rug added for warmth, but there were no hidden trapdoors under any of them. There was one door in, one way out, and she was pinned down here until someone came to get her. No well-aimed kick or jiggle of bra underwire was getting her through that door.

Nevertheless, she dressed—in her own clothes, rather than the pretty but impractical gowns on offer—and kept searching.

On her third circuit there was knock at the door, and the distinct sound of a key unlocking it. She froze, letting the section of rug she held fall back to the floor.

"Her majesty the Queen," came a muffled announcement in a male voice.

Fantastic. The one person she had no right to be angry with. The one person she really ought to be civil with.

"You can come in," she replied, uncertain if that was formal enough. Nobody had gone through the proper protocols with her.

The door swung in, revealing Frigga in what probably passed for casual morning attire in the palace: a simple ivory gown with full, loose sleeves, and her hair pulled back and caught in a twist that let it flow down her back. Behind Frigga a servant trotted obediently with a tray of food. Even she was better groomed than Alex, who wondered if she was lowering the standards of the entire realm.

In the corridor, three guards stood to attention, their positions against the walls making it clear they weren't accompanying the queen. They'd probably been out there all night.

"Good morning," Alex offered, unsure how she was supposed to address the queen. The servant left the tray on a little table by the door and departed, shutting the door behind her.

"Your countenance suggests you do not believe your own words." Frigga crossed to stand before Alex, gently placing a thumb below her eye, where she'd seen dark circles in the mirror when she woke. Up close, Alex could see the unhappy set to her mouth and the circles beneath her own eyes. The queen hadn't slept well, either.

"Bad dreams," Alex said by way of explanation.

"Not about whatever it was Loki did to you yesterday, I hope." She met Alex's eyes with a questioning stare. Alex realised she'd made a lot of noise in the throne room about Loki hurting her, and Frigga was obviously seeking an explanation.

"I dreamt about losing my original test, actually."

Frigga nodded. "The king told me what happened when you first came to Asgard. Come, you should eat. You and I have much to talk about."

To Alex's astonishment, she carried the tray over to a patch of sunlight just shy of the balcony, where a cafe-style table basked in the early morning warmth. She gestured for Alex to sit, so she did, helping herself to a selection from the tray. Food on Asgard, even in the palace, seemed to tend towards simple but good quality. Here, she had the option of fresh baked rolls, some kind of flaky pastry, fruits, and the sweetest jam made from berries she'd never seen on Earth, with a drink like a spicier version of tea that came in hot or cold forms.

She slathered the jam onto one of the rolls and waited for Frigga, who took no notice of the food, to say whatever was on her mind. Alex had a feeling she knew where this was going anyway.

"You should know," Frigga began, "that while Loki remains on Asgard, he is forbidden to come near you. I have made it clear that if he breaks that condition, I'll take you back to Midgard myself."

"When does he leave?" Alex asked quietly.

"He is working with the king to create a replicate of the Tesseract. Odin predicts it will be a few days work, and neither seem inclined to rest until it's complete. The king has also agreed that Loki may earn his way out of imprisonment entirely when he returns by helping the realm prepare for the war. Odin has made it very clear that you are only forced to remain immortal and on Asgard until Loki returns—then you shall be free to make your own decisions."

"But not now."

"No. Word has been sent to Idun, forbidding her from assisting you in any way. That term has been made especially clear to Thor, who has protested vociferously on your behalf."

What there was of Alex's appetite evaporated, and she dropped the rest of the bread to her plate. "And I'll be under guard if I leave these rooms?"

"For now, while Loki is still in the realm. That's for your benefit as much as his. When he leaves, you will be granted more freedom."

Alex stared out across the section of the realm she could—bright, gleaming buildings set on jagged pinnacles of rock, an ocean just visible beyond. It was beautiful, breathtaking even, but the view would lose its edge if it was all she could see.

"Despite your interactions with him, my husband is not a harsh man. He understands, as much as he can, why you are upset with his decision to keep you here. Above all, he is king, responsible for the lives of all his subjects. Often he has to put the safety of many above the wellbeing of a few. This is one of those times. Everything he does, there is a reason for, even if we can't always see it."

"I get it. I'm not happy about it, but I understand it. I blame Loki more than anything—he's the one who put the suggestion forward."

"There is one thing I wished to ask you," Frigga continued, and Alex steeled herself. "Yesterday you said that Loki had—had grabbed you by the throat. Is it true?" Alex glanced at the queen and away again, unable to meet her hopeful gaze. "No."

"He did it to stop me swallowing some of Idun's apple. And he healed me afterwards." She found herself trying to explain, trying to lessen what he'd done. Not for his sake, but for Frigga's.

"Don't. Don't make excuses for him." Frigga slid her hand across the table to grasp Alex's. "He was raised to know better. I'm his mother, but I'm not a fool. No facet of his behaviour should be kept secret from me. Has he ever laid a hand on you before?"

"No. I swear."

"Then I shall add it to the list of conditions on the bargain. If he ever hurts you again, whatever his purpose, any deal will be immediately revoked and the terms of his imprisonment reinstated."

"Thank you. I don't think you need to worry about it, but thank you."

Frigga rose to leave, planting a gentle kiss on Alex's forehead as she brushed by. "I'm needed elsewhere. The realm carries on, even as the king locks himself away. If you need anything, inform one of the guards in the passageway and they will relay a message directly to me. I will visit you when I have time."

In a sweep of fine linen, the queen was gone, leaving Alex with the best view in Asgard, locked in the finest prison cell in the nine realms.

---

She spent two days with that view taunting her. They ebbed slowly, as time often does without a distraction. She avoided sleep as it just led to more dances with Fear, or took her back to that claustrophobic room in Stark Tower, with Loki choking the apple out of her. Sometimes he didn't stop even after she'd spat the apple out.

She bathed in the Olympic swimming pool sized tub, forced into wearing the gowns in the closet since her own clothes definitely needed laundering. Frigga didn't return and the only person she ever saw was the servant girl who brought her meals. She was thankful Loki had taught her to read his native tongue as a child, since the only books here were written in it—she'd been left the Asgardian equivalent of fairy stories, which were packed with the deeds of brave warriors against the tricky, evil frost giants, or shadowy dark elves.

It didn't help that she was waiting for Loki to slip his captors and sneak into her rooms. No matter the potential cost, if someone had forbidden him to do something, they might as well have egged him on. She wasn't sure, if he did turn up, whether she'd cower or whether she'd try to throw him off the balcony.

When the lock clicked open on the third day and she wasn't due a meal, she stepped off the balcony, expecting Frigga to have made good on her promise to come visit. Instead, when the door opened, Thor stepped through.

"It is done," he said. "He's gone."

Chapter 26: The declaration

Strangely, Alex didn’t feel much relief at the news of Loki’s departure. Oh, there was a little, but she knew it was only temporary. He’d be back and when he returned he’d be wreaking havoc again, doing whatever was necessary to keep her away from Earth and away from Idun.

Whatever Thor read on her face, he didn’t press it. “He did ask me to pass this onto you.” He held a scroll out to her.

“You can leave it on the table,” she said. She didn’t need to read Loki’s words right now. She needed air. “Does this mean I can leave these rooms?”

“Of course. Mother asked me to apologise on her behalf for her absence, but she has been most busy. She requested I accompany you on a tour of the palace and grounds.”

“You don’t need to—you must be busy—”

“They can manage without my tact and attention to fine detail for one day.”

The description didn’t match how Loki had ever depicted his brother, or what she’d seen of Thor. She snorted, then clapped a hand over her mouth. “I’m sorry, that was rude…”

“It was intended to make you smile,” the prince replied, mischief replacing his own sombre expression. “And it is good to see you smile. You have nothing to apologise for. Truthfully, this initial stage of preparation for war involves a great deal of detail—we have to focus on ensuring our people have enough food and other necessary supplies. Defence comes after, battle stratagems last of all. While I need to learn more about administration, I’m not strictly needed. For today, I am yours.”

“Okay. Just let me change into…something…hmm.”

“Is there a problem?”

“I should wear my boots if we’re going to be doing a lot of walking, but they don’t really go with any of the dresses in the closet.”

Thor looked alarmed at the sartorial dilemma. He probably didn’t get involved in making decisions about clothes very often. “I’ll seek advice and return forthwith, Lady Alex.”

In his absence she took herself onto the balcony, her back to the scroll beside the door. What could Loki have written to her? Did he hope to change her mind in a letter, after everything he’d done? He had a way with words, but he was at his best in speech, not in writing. Then he could put the famous Silvertongue to full effect. As it was, even face to face there was nothing he could say to her that would make her feel any better about the situation. Not even if he apologised—and Loki didn’t make apologies. Maybe he was going to tell her he’d pulled off the ultimate trick—he’d secured her use as hostage but never intended to return. But, no, she didn’t believe that. He’d be back.

A knock at the door interrupted her fuming—it was a servant with a pile of folded clothes and a note pinned to them.

Sif assures me riding trousers and a tunic will be more comfortable.

Alex winced at the mention of the woman from the other night. It probably meant they were going to have a formal meeting today, which if the death glare from Loki’s sentencing was any indication, would be anything but friendly. She sighed and retreated to the bathroom to change.

---

The view from the balcony hadn’t lied; Asgard was very impressive. Nobody had ever mentioned the floating buildings to her. She spent several minutes in front of the first one they passed, staring up in awe.

Loki had never shown her around the realm when he first brought her here. At the time, he’d been too eager to complete her test, though now she wondered on it more. Had he decided there was no point doing it until she passed? Had his faith in her perhaps not been as strong as he’d always implied? She couldn’t really blame him if he had had any sliver of doubt—it’d been a legitimate doubt, after all. But something still twinged inside her to think he hadn’t had complete belief in her, like she’d had in him.

Now, she remained detached, soaking in the sights like a tourist. There was no point getting too attached to all the shining splendour, no matter how much a floating temple left her gaping. She wouldn’t be here long.

Sensing her need for air, Thor had led her straight out of the palace to the stables, where the horse she’d ridden up the Bifrost waited for her. Thor told her the mare’s name but it was very…Norse. She’d forgotten it before they’d left the stables behind.

The warriors three—who also had very Nordic names that it took her some time to memorise—and Sif joined them. Despite her earlier wariness, Sif was perfectly pleasant. Alex detected sympathy behind her cool exterior, which meant Thor or Frigga had brought her up to speed on the situation. In fact, it seemed like the whole realm was aware of the bargain Loki had made with Odin, which shouldn’t have surprised her considering it affected everyone here. They knew war was coming and they knew why. It meant some of the stares she encountered as they moved through the city were far from friendly, though Thor’s presence meant everyone was cordial towards her.

After the tour they returned to the palace, to a walled garden where the queen waited. A table, positioned to capture the last of the afternoon sun, sat laden with twice the amount of food it should have been capable of holding. Volstagg tucked in happily, and Alex found even her appetite was better than it had been in days. She ended up seated between Frigga and Sif.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been able to see you as much as I would like,” Frigga said.

“I understand,” Alex replied. “You’re the queen. You have responsibilities.”

“You should get measured for more comfortable clothing,” said Sif. “You don’t have to wear gowns all the time if you don’t want to, no matter what the fashion is.”

“I’ll send my dressmaker along tomorrow,” Frigga offered.

Sif reminded Alex of Romanoff, in a way, though they looked nothing alike—both were fighters, even if Sif was more outspoken and made no secret of her worth as a warrior. They were equally no-nonsense and were used to confused men underestimating their intelligence and strength. Alex had seen it plenty of times with Romanoff, out in the New Mexico town when they used to take trips outside the complex, and even among the male SHIELD staff. Out of the warriors three, only Fandral seemed to doubt Sif’s place as a warrior, but even after a few hours it was clear the men of the realm were confused about how to deal with her.

Alex suspected Sif and Romanoff would have been great friends if properly introduced, if only so they could bitch about the men they met on a daily basis dismissing them, before scamming the same men out of drinks and money at pool and poker. At one point Alex had begun to feel more comfortable around Romanoff, but she’d burned any bridges with her flight to Asgard. Now Sif seemed more accepting she could see them being friends of a kind too, but they had so little in common it would never run very deep. Alex wasn’t a fighter, and if anything people tended to overestimate her because of her ties to Loki.

Despite the jovial atmosphere, her mood plummeted. She was still a prisoner here and worse, she was friendless, isolated. She couldn’t rely on Frigga or Thor for company, because they had duties to fulfil. They were important players in the upcoming war. She was a mere pawn.

When the table was cleared, Thor walked her back to her rooms. The guards had retreated from the corridor, though she expected they’d be back as soon as Thor departed. Thor stopped outside the door.

“I’m sorry, Lady Alex. If I could have done more, I would.” She didn’t need to ask what he was talking about.

“I know. It’s not your fault.”

“Though Loki does speak the truth when he says you are safer on Asgard until our enemy is defeated. I would not like to think of you on Midgard, relying on SHIELD to protect you. With you here, you will be out of harm’s way until we have vanquished Thanos and his army.”

Oh, Thor. So optimistic. But then she realised she’d never stopped to consider what would happen if Asgard lost. She’d assumed that whatever else happened, Loki would win. Loki always won. He wouldn’t allow this Thanos to defeat him, because that would be a colossal blow to his pride. And if he did intend to protect her, then it didn’t matter who won or lost. If Loki had breath in his body, he’d make sure Thanos couldn’t hurt her.

For the first time since she’d regained her memories, she felt grateful for the way Loki felt about her, even if it made her feel selfish and rotten for doing so.

“Thank you for today,” she said. “You don’t have to come tomorrow, you know. Just assign someone to accompany me around if I feel like going anywhere.”

“As you wish. Though I would exercise caution, if you intend to venture beyond the palace walls—”

“I know. I saw how people looked at me today. I’ll stay on palace grounds.” Just another reminder that her involvement with Loki was a poisoned chalice, whichever realm she was in. “Good luck with the war council.”

Thor grimaced. “Next time I return to Midgard I intend to secure a supply of coffee. I fear it’s the only thing that would sustain me through such tedium.”

He said goodnight and took his leave, and she leaned against the door, waiting for the familiar turn of the key. When the click came, she took a few steps away, intending to go straight to bed, but she couldn’t do it. She couldn’t delay reading the scroll anymore.

She lifted it from where it had been abandoned all day and took it out onto the balcony, where the moonlight was bright enough to read by. She’d never received a scroll before, and this one was tied with green ribbon, sealed with wax, just like she’d seen in old movies. When she broke the seal and unravelled the paper, the ink was green too, though the letters were not the runic ones she’d expected. This was written in English, in an elegant cursive.

My dear Asta,

This will reach you after my departure for the other end of the cosmos. My intention is you will have chance to read and absorb my words long before my return.

Allow me to begin by expressing regret at the rift that has grown between us. If I had my way there would be no distance between us at all, but fate does not appear to have much concern for my wants.

I have failed, of late, in showing you how deeply I do feel for you. Partly that is down to long held habit, one you always used to tolerate. To show emotion is to show weakness, and I have never tolerated weakness in myself. Part of it is due to us being constantly surrounded by those who would seek to manipulate me through you. Thanos made it clear he would hurt you if he had to when I was last in his presence. The Allfather has shown how willing he is to use you to bargain with. SHIELD, too, would have done the same. This was only possible because I didn’t guard my emotions strongly enough.

But perhaps I have guarded them from the one person I should have shared them with, and as a result pushed you away. In my desperation to keep you close—and keep you safe—I have done foolish things. They have cost me your trust, your happiness, and though I hardly dare admit it to myself, your love. Never did I see that occurring. My mother and Thor have schooled me in the many, many errors I have made, but they tell me nothing I do not already know. All my schemes may have lost me the one thing I now realise is most important to me in all the realms.

Know this. I go to Thanos only to save your life, to prevent any harm from befalling you. I would rot in the palace dungeons for eternity if it would deliver the same result. The other Asgardians despise me and I couldn’t make any sacrifice for them. Only for you.

Despite any evidence to the contrary, despite my never confiding it to you—my gravest error, no doubt—I love you.

I am a selfish creature, which is why I cannot simply give you up. I meant it when I said I would rather you were alive than happy, because I could not survive in a universe without you in it. That doesn’t mean I don’t wish to see you happy. Your happiness is more important to me than my own.

When I return to Asgard, when the trick on Thanos has been played, I will court you. Properly, as I failed to before. You may still be unhappy about being on Asgard, but I’ll do everything in my power to ease that unhappiness. When the war is over, you will have the choice then, to stay or go. If you choose to leave me behind, I will not stop you. I warn you, though, that I know you very well, Asta, and I will use all that knowledge to my advantage.

I shall make no pretence about who I am. You have always accepted me as I was before, and I know if I intend to build any kind of future with you, it must be without any lies or masquerades. This letter is my vow to you that I will never lie to you again. My signature makes this a binding contract, and if I break this vow, you will be able to return to Midgard, your mortality restored, and you will never hear from me again. My words are sealed with a spell and the Allfather can control the magic within, which I am unable to counteract.

I am a liar. I am cruel. I lack mercy. I lack many attributes that a woman would see as necessary qualities in a lover. I can only be who I am. But for you, I can and will be anything. You are the crack in my cold black heart, the sliver of light in my soul, the one good part of me. Can you truly blame me for trying to keep that light alive when all around as turned black as pitch?

In anticipation of being reunited with you,

Loki.

Notes:

Happy birthday to me XD. 21 again *ahem*.

Thanks go to my brilliant pre-reader/beta team Lindsey, Rhi and Twiggy, especially for their guidance on where Loki's voice needed tweaking just so in the letter. Kudos to Twiggy for the 'crack in my cold, black heart' line.

Chapter 27: Pandora's Box

lex read Loki’s letter until she had the words memorised, trying to wade through the churn of emotions inside her. It was a grand promise, but he’d made grand promises before and failed to keep them. She hated the idea of being forced to stay on Asgard until Thanos was defeated, but what choice did she have? If she could hold Loki to the promise he’d made, she might have a shot at going home eventually. A shot where he could no longer thwart her every move.

She rerolled the scroll and replaced it before climbing into bed, though she just found herself staring at the ceiling as the night ticked by.

Anger was the most prominent feeling: anger that he really couldn’t bring himself to apologise to her. Anger that he was still being a selfish prick. Anger that he was trying to—no, succeeding at manipulating her. Anger that the first time he ever admitted how he felt, he did it in writing, from halfway across the universe. After everything he was too much of a coward to say it to her face. That saddened her too, the knowledge that no matter what, he’d always struggle to be open with her about how he felt. How could she ever trust him if he never truly allowed her to know what was going on inside him?

The sadness gave way to pity, that he was that way—that he’d become even worse than he’d ever been. Loki could have been a great man, and that the scared little boy she’d sometimes glimpsed had become the twisted person he was today was a tragedy. Loki didn’t like himself much, she knew now, so happiness would always be beyond his reach.

Like Pandora’s Box, hope was squashed under everything else, barely able to flutter her wings against the combined weight of Alex’s other emotions. That didn’t mean she didn’t make her presence known, a gentle stirring in Alex’s chest. If he meant what he’d written—and she had little reason to trust him—then she could persuade him to let her go, when the time was right. She just needed to stand firm against all the tricks he was going to throw her way when he returned. It didn’t matter if she still loved him. It wouldn’t matter if he finally, finally became the man she’d always convinced herself he was. She was going to make it home.

This time, in sleep, neither Fear or Loki came to visit her. Instead, she dwelled in Pandora’s Box herself, buffeted by emotions and chased by sharp words in green ink.

---

In the absence of company, she returned to the Asgardian fairytales, taking them out to the closest garden to read during the day while a guard trailed after her. She passed two days trying to improve her slow reading of their tongue, realising she was running out of reading material, and getting bored of the repetitive stories. Thor found her on the second afternoon, bringing her a picnic hamper.

“Admit it, you’re using me to escape the war council,” she said as he sat down.

“It would be foolish to deny it.” He didn’t look like he was getting much sleep either. “There are so many issues to discuss, so many factors to weigh before making a decision. In truth, I know I’m not ready to be king yet, not when I still grow impatient with such detail.” He handed her a goblet of a fizzy, fruity drink that was a definite improvement on the weird tea concoction.

“I think the trick is to pretend you find it interesting, and make sure you’ve got people around you who you can delegate the decision to.”

“The responsibility always lies with the king. If they make a poor decision, it is still my fault.”

“Then you need to choose who you rely on carefully. You seem to read people well enough.”

“Apart from my brother.”

“He’s family. It’s different.” She picked at a handful of purple berries. “Can I ask you to do something?” She couldn’t blame Thor for the wary look her cast her. “It’s not what you think, I promise.”

“Then if it’s within my power, I will.”

“Could you take this to Odin?” She pulled the scroll out of the inside pocket of her hoodie. “Ask him if what Loki promises is true.”

Thor gingerly took the letter from her. “Very well. I’ll pass it on to my father.”

Alex had briefly considered seeking Odin out herself to ask him about the spell Loki referenced, but she doubted she’d get access to him if he was locked up in war councils. Besides which, she didn’t know what she would say to the king if she did see him. He’d probably expect an apology for her outburst before assisting her, and she couldn’t give him one—not a sincere one. Hell, she’d probably end up repeating her tantrum. Thor as middle man would shield her from that awkwardness a while longer, and she trusted him not to read the letter.

“Thank you.” She stretched out on the grass beside him, staring up at the perfectly blue sky. “Do you know if there’s a library I can visit? I’m running out of reading material.”

He leaned over and picked up the book she’d discarded. “You can read our tongue?”

“Loki taught me when I was little. It takes me longer to read than English, because it’s so different and I’m rusty at it, but I can get by.”

“I should have guessed. He gave you the gift of tongues too.”

“Yeah.” Loki had performed that spell soon after they’d first started going on adventures. It meant she could understand and speak any spoken language they encountered. It didn’t even register to her when she was speaking in a different language. “He didn’t want to take me to a realm, risk me wandering off and not being able to speak to anyone to find my way back to him.”

Thor gave an amused shake of his head. “That’s a rare gift, usually bestowed only on royalty or those we rely on to cultivate our knowledge of other cultures. People have to pass complicated assessments to earn it.”

“Um, sorry? He never mentioned that.”

“Never mind. My brother has always done what he wants.”

He fell silent, his expression turning wistful. The garden they were in sat in one of the higher parts of the palace, giving it a view over most of the city. She followed his gaze to where the kaleidoscopic Bifrost cut across the water.

“Until this war is over, I’m unable to return to Midgard either,” he said.

“I reckon SHIELD would be as happy with you as they are with me.”

“They owe me a debt for the assistance I’ve provided in the past. If you decide to return, I shall travel with you, and plead your case.”

“Why are you so anxious to return? Is there something you left behind?” She watched his gaze soften. “Someone. I get it.” He nodded.

“I can but hope the war doesn’t stretch too long. Mortal lives pass so quickly.”

---

Thor was able to pass her a key to the royal library and archives that evening, so from then on that’s where she took herself on a daily basis. The queen’s dressmaker came to visit her and quickly made her several outfits consisting of tunics and legging-like breaches, which were comfier to laze around and read in. Alex even persuaded her to replicate her bra, since she refused to wear even one of the looser corsets the Asgardian women wore under their gowns.

She saw the prince, Frigga, Sif and the warriors three often for the evening meal. Sometimes they’d go for rides, just so they’d all get a change of scenery from their daily activities. Sif even commandeered her some evenings, after deciding Alex needed to learn to protect herself.

“You might not ever face an enemy in battle, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be able to defend yourself against one.”

“I appreciate the offer, but everyone on Asgard is much bigger and stronger than me. I don’t doubt the same goes for Thanos and his army.”

“Size and strength aren’t everything. Neither are weapons.”

So slowly she learned ways to turn someone’s strength against them, with the goal of crippling them long enough to escape if she ever needed to. Sif even showed her how to inflict injuries with the most innocuous of objects, like twigs, glass cups, and her own nails.

“Your biggest advantage is who you are,” Sif told her. “Men will look at you and decide you pose no threat, because you are a woman, and a small woman at that. Let them think that, and you will always be able to use their assumptions against them.”

Alex was sure as the lessons progressed that Sif wasn’t preparing her to protect herself against a nameless, faceless enemy—she was trying to ensure Alex would never be defenceless against Loki again. That point was brought home when Sif taught her how to escape a choking grip. It felt churlish to point out that Loki’s best weapon was not his body, but his mind and his magic.

The library, and especially the archives, was a delight. It contained volumes from many realms, some in alphabets she couldn’t decipher. There were histories, which gave more realistic accounts of the past encounters with Earth and Jotunheim, and long novels about heroic warriors going on quests in faraway lands. She discovered the truths behind the myths she’d known on Earth, as well as biographies of the notable inhabitants of Asgard, past and present. She even found, to her amusement, excruciatingly detailed erotica, including the Asgardian version of the Kama Sutra. The rooms enclosed a courtyard with benches, where she would take the treasures she found out to bask in the sunlight.

There was more here than she could have read in a mortal lifespan, but she was damned if she wasn’t going to give it a go.

---

On one of the rare days of rain, she found herself at a secluded table among the stacks, drinking in the old-book smell and reading about the Jotun invasion of Earth. She didn’t hear anyone approach the table; it was only the scrape of chair legs across the floor that alerted her someone was sitting down. She dropped the book to find herself face to face with the Allfather.

All her faculties fled for safer ground, leaving her motionless and speechless, waiting for him to begin.

“My son informed me I would find you here.” She merely nodded her head in response. “I’ve come to return this.” He dropped the scroll onto the table.

She gripped the scroll, staying mute. She wasn’t angry. Yet. That was a good thing. She needed to stay calm.

“In answer to your enquiry, as far as I can determine, Loki tells the truth. His signature forms a binding contract to both parts of his vow. I am unable to find any weakness in the construction of the magic that would allow him to break the spell. That is not to say there may not be loopholes or clauses I cannot see. Loki made this spell, so he holds the advantage. What it comes down to is, do you trust him?”

It didn’t take her long to decide. “No.”

“Very well. I can arrange, when he returns, for a contract of my own creation to be drawn up with the same terms. That will ensure the terms are ironclad, even for him. Do you agree with them?”

“I think so.”

He was so difficult to read. It was hard to remember, when he was sat here without his finery, speaking to her so quietly, that he wasn’t just an old man in a library. It was only that one eye, sharp and shrewd, that reminded her who she was dealing with. He was staring not at her, but through her, weighing up the pieces of her to determine her worth. He’d done it before and the outcome hadn’t been in her favour.

“You realise,” he said, “the reason you failed your test was not because you were at an unfair disadvantage.” She shrank back, worried at how easily he’d discerned her thoughts. “You proved yourself capable of overcoming your limitations; it was because you were too trusting. It’s a harsh lesson to learn, but while you afforded Loki the blind faith you did, you would never have survived his world. It’s true that I intended to use Loki to mend the rift behind Asgard and Jotunheim, but it wasn’t solely for my benefit that I ensured you failed that test. Your marriage to Loki would have ended in disaster, and you’d have been the one to suffer most of all. He held all the power and relationships built on such imbalances do not stand the test of time.”

She let the explanation sink in. It was a conclusion she’d come to herself—she’d said as much to Frigga when they first met—and it helped to know that Odin hadn’t just decided she wasn’t fit for his son.

“The same can be said about my decision to keep you here in line with Loki’s demands. It’s not just for Asgard’s benefit. It’s not even just for your safety. It’s because I know my son well enough that he would follow you back to Midgard the first chance he had. He’d be doomed to repeat mistakes he’s already made and then make fresh ones, and the person who would suffer for that would be you again. If my son is to grow—if he is to find love, should that be his fate—he needs to be prevented from pushing you away for good.”

“Frigga once told me there was a reason for everything you did.”

“No one does things without a reason. I merely have more foresight than most, and the benefit of centuries of experience to assist me in making my choices. I’m not infallible. Even your Midgardian myths say so.”

“I do have a question…” He inclined his head to tell her to continue. “How was he? When I lost the test?”

She expected Odin to say Loki had remained his stoic self, given how Thor and Frigga hadn’t seen any change in him after she was sent back to Earth. “He wept.”

“He what?” she asked, the words carried on a gasp.

“He wept, like I haven’t seen him do since he was a boy. He hid it well, but it wasn’t something he was able to hide from me. He didn’t try to beg or bargain for your return, as I expected him to. Instead, he shed tears, and when those dried up, he became a colder man entirely.”

They sat in quiet for a few moments, while she contemplated his answer. She’d never seen Loki cry; she couldn’t even build a convincing mental image of him doing so. He’d had nothing to gain from it, either—he’d let her go and hadn’t used his sorrow to try to change Odin’s mind.

She tucked the scroll into the pocket that had been sewn into her tunic. “Surely you didn’t just come to give me this. Thor seems happy to play messenger.”

“No, I do have another purpose. Do you know who Heimdall is?”

“The gatekeeper? Yes.”

“He has been searching for Loki and Thanos, but they are both shrouded in darkness.”

“Isn’t he supposed to be able to see everyone?”

“Yes. However, Loki did learn to shield himself from Heimdall when he was planning schemes with the Jotuns. I am wary of not being able to see him. There is something I need to do to ease my worries, and your presence is required.”

“Mine—really?”

He didn’t answer but rose and walked away, gesturing for her to follow. He led her from the library, across the palace and down, down endless staircases until the only light came from torches on the walls. “The queen and prince will meet us there.”

She didn’t ask where. She was worried, the deeper they went, that the answer would be the dungeons. Had Odin decided to lock her up properly? She’d have turned to run, except wherever she hid they’d find her. Besides, if he was going to throw her in the dungeons he wouldn’t do it himself—he’d get the palace guards to drag her away.

When she didn’t respond, Odin kept talking. “You’ve made quite an impression on my family in your short time here. I know the queen will be sad to see you leave, if that is your decision in the end. Thor too.”

“I’ll miss them too.” What else was there to say? She expected Frigga’s enthusiasm for her stemmed from the same place Thor’s did—the desire to see Loki happy.

The final staircase led onto a corridor carved from black marble, and as Odin had said, Frigga and Thor waited for them outside a set of huge iron doors, the first Alex had seen in the palace that looked more functional than decorative. Odin held his hand out before him and they swung inward, revealing a room bathed in light. He stepped inside, gesturing them to follow.

“Where are we?” Alex whispered to Thor.

“The weapons vault.”

It still made no sense to her. The room wasn’t evenly shaped, with alcoves cut into the walls and narrow passageways leading away. The central hall they’d arrived in featured a walkway beside a pool, leading to a podium. A blue box sat on the podium, casting shifting cobalt shadows on the walls. Odin led them away, perpendicular to the strange object.

The goosebumps should have warned her. They rounded a bend in the walkway and she was on her knees, retching as the oily presence of the Tesseract crawled inside her. It was everywhere—on her skin, in her veins, in her belly, and worst of all, serpents in her head, trying to wind their way even further inside.

She was dragged backwards by strong hands, blessfully away from its presence. She opened her eyes to glimpse it, locked in a glass cage against one wall, the sceptre on a stand below, before they turned the corner back into the main hall.

“What was that?” Thor yelled in Odin’s direction, while Frigga knelt and fussed beside Alex.

“We needed to know we still had the real Tesseract,” Odin replied calmly.

“And there was no other way?”

“None as simple. She reacted to the cube, which proves Loki has truly only taken the copy we made. There are no lasting effects to the girl and we have our answer.”

Odin left without another word, leaving Thor to help her up the many, many stairs back to the main level of the palace.

---

Thor stayed with her the rest of the day, accompanying her on horseback out of the palace. She had the need to put as much distance between herself and the Tesseract as she could.

“I thought it would be fade,” she said. “But it’s getting worse. I didn’t have any contact with it at all this time.”

Thor’s worried expression didn’t help. “My father had no right to use you in such a way. At the least, you should have no cause to visit the weapons vault again.”

“You’d have to knock me out first. I’m not going down there willingly again.”

They’d ventured in the direction of the Bifrost, the closest they’d come to it since the day Alex arrived. Thor was staring wistfully out at it again.

“Are they ever going to try and rebuild the bridge?” she asked.

“There were plans to, but they’ve been put on hold while the war looms. Our best engineers’ skills are required elsewhere for the time being.”

“I suppose it makes an invasion that much harder.”

“That it does.”

Somewhere near the end of the bridge, there came a flash of gold. Thor straightened in the saddle, peering in that direction. Thor’s eyesight was obviously keener than hers, because all she could see was tiny ants; he turned his horse around. “Come,” he said, alarmed. “That was Heimdall’s signal.” With a kick of his heels his horse was galloping away; she had no choice except to follow him.

By the time they reached the spot where she’d first arrived, a group of guards were clustered around something on the ground. Thor had jumped down from his stallion but Alex stayed put, waiting for a gap in the scrum to see what was happening.

At first she only glimpsed blue and red; it became easier to see when Thor pushed the guards aside and lifted the figure into his arms. Blue skin, the tattered remains of black clothing, and blood dripping from ferocious wounds onto the surface of the bridge.

Loki had returned to Asgard.

Notes:

I think this takes us over the 50,000 word count--not bad for a story that was meant to be 10k at most *facepalm*.

Chapter 28: Wounds

It seemed to take forever for the healers to arrive. As Alex dismounted her mare, one of Odin’s ravens whipped overhead in the direction of the palace, taking news of Loki’s return. Thor wrapped him in his scarlet cloak and cradled him, murmuring reassurances while Alex dithered on the sidelines, taking a few steps closer then backing away again.

She heard one of the guards muttering about Loki’s skin, and Thor cast him a cold glare. “He must be wounded grievously to have reverted to his Jotun form.” The words seemed to be aimed at Alex. She came closer, close enough she could feel the chill radiating from Loki.

“Be careful,” she warned. Where Thor’s bare arm touched Loki’s the skin was slowly turning black.

“It’ll heal,” Thor responded, anxiously watching Loki’s face for any signs of life. “I’ve never seen him in this form.”

“I have,” she said quietly. “Only a few times. I thought it was a disguise he’d deliberately put on to scare someone away. Now, I suppose he didn’t even realise he was doing it, and I didn’t know this was what a frost giant was supposed to look like.” His skin was a real, deep blue, not the tinge a human would bear in prolonged cold, though it was scattered with patches so dark they were almost black. Bruises, she supposed. There were ridges across his body, deep patterns over his face, torso and limbs, even if they were bisected by cuts and rips in his flesh. Some of the wounds were already healed, thin white lines that subverted the symmetry of his natural markings. This had been a prolonged attack.

Thor was examining the wounds as well. She could only imagine how bad it was under the cloak. “In centuries, I’ve never seen him appear like this in battle.”

“It was only when we were in serious danger. Mortal danger.”

“When you were in danger,” Thor surmised.

Loki shuddered in his arms, taking a shaky breath. Then he cracked his eyes open, just barely, just enough that she could see the red that covered them. It wasn’t blood—there was an unearthly glow to them.

“Asta,” he whispered.

“I’m here.” She reached for him, despite his temperature, to lay her hand over his. Even after everything, she was compelled to offer him comfort in the pathetic state he was in. It couldn’t last—she had to jerk away after a few seconds, the cold too biting.

“Stupid girl,” Loki hissed. “Can’t touch me…like this…”

She settled instead for brushing the hair out of his face, cringing at the way it was matted with his own blood and how her hand came away slick with fresh, wet blood. Behind them she could hear the urgent thunder of horse hooves, gradually getting closer.

“Who did this?” Thor demanded.

“Thanos."

“You knew. You knew he would do this to you.”

“It doesn’t matter.” His eyes slid shut again, hiding the crimson glow.

Odin and a dozen healers surrounded them, and Thor was persuaded to lay Loki back on the bridge. They were pushed aside so the healers could have full access to him, stripping the cloak away to apply poultices and bandages. Alex had to turn away when she saw the extent of the wounds on his torso, the world spinning around her—a human would have been killed by even one of those injuries.

When the blood flow had been stemmed, Loki was hoisted onto a stretcher between two horses, and they set off as a procession back towards the palace. The quickly swelling crowds were kept back from the Bifrost, with more guards arriving to manage the curious people. She kept to Thor’s side, glad that Loki’s body had been covered up again and what was visible of him was fading back to pink. He would have to work miracles to get the people of Asgard to accept him and trust him again, but that task would be impossible if they saw him in his Jotun form. All she’d read in the archives proved how deeply the frost giants were feared and hated.

Frigga met them at the palace gates and Alex found herself swept along in the entourage accompanying Loki to the infirmary, Frigga gripping one hand and Thor holding her other arm. Odin murmured something to Frigga and strode away, leaving them in a softly lit room while Loki was hauled in for whatever passed for surgery here.

“He’ll recover,” the queen said, as if she were trying to comfort Alex. “He’s survived this far.”

“Oh, I know. It’d take more than this to defeat Loki.”

One of the healers came out to check Thor’s frostbitten arm and her palm—Thor was hauled away for treatment but she escaped with only a foul-smelling salve applied to her skin. Frigga made plenty of enquiries of the healers that came and went, but even with the queen they were terse, giving minimal information. Hours passed, Thor returning with his arm bandaged, before they trooped out and left. One stern-faced woman made a beeline for Frigga.

“Eir, what news have you?” the queen asked.

“He is resting. We have done everything we are able, it is his own body that must do the rest of the work from here. He is lucky that Jotun physiology is so similar to ours, or we’d have been at a loss to assist.”

“Can we see him?”

Eir’s mouth flattened into a disapproving line but she obviously decided it would be imprudent to say no to the queen. “Of course, if he is given peace.”

They followed the healer into the room beyond, which was completely different to any hospital ward Alex had ever seen. It was clad in the same marble as the rest of the palace and lit by torches and the sunshine diffused through high, narrow windows. It lacked beeping machinery, fluorescent strip lights or industrial white walls, and was altogether more welcoming for it. Loki lay in the centre on a wide bed, sheets only covering him to the waist. It still didn’t leave much visible flesh, with the vast amount of bindings on his wounds. He was pale again, but the white of his skin just emphasised how much blood he’d lost. Violent purple bruises marred what the bandages didn’t cover, and his eyes were so sunken the circles underneath them matched.

Frigga took one side of the bed, gripping Loki’s hand firmly in hers, and Thor sat beside her, covering clutching both their hands in his massive paw. That left Alex to sit on the other side of the bed. She couldn’t have held Loki’s other hand even if she wanted to; it was swathed in blood-darkened linen. Instead, she clasped hers together and rested them on the sheet, choosing to watch the wall rather than his face.

He shifted in his sleep, tilting his head and chest towards his mother. She couldn’t hear the words he murmured, but Frigga leaned closer. “She’s here,” she whispered in reply. Both the queen and Thor lifted their gaze to Alex, a weight of expectation in them, the same expectation Thor had displayed when he first discovered who Loki was. No matter what Loki had done, or who he’d done it to, while he was in this state it no longer mattered to them. He was calling out for her at his weakest, and for them, that wiped the slate clean. Loki had done his penance and earned, in their eyes, the right to forgiveness.

She couldn’t help colouring under such hopes, pretending to find her fingernails endlessly fascinating. For her, it could never be so simple.

Time dragged. Eir came by to check on the patient every so often, but the set of her mouth convinced Alex she was checking they weren’t throwing a rowdy party at Loki’s bedside. She peeled back bandages and applied ointments, tutting or nodding approvingly at whatever she found. Alex rummaged through her memory for references to Eir in all the reading she’d done and discovered she was the Norse Goddess of Healing; that probably meant she was chief healer or something similar. She certainly acted like it, and it would make sense that she was the one treating Loki. Only the best for a prince of the realm.

Whenever she trotted away, it would take time for Loki to settle back down, though he never fully awoke. Every time he uttered his fevered murmurings, all too quiet for her to hear, except when he was crying out for Asta.

---

The first time Loki woke up long enough to open his eyes, Eir forced a potion down his throat that knocked him out cold again. The second time, she sent for Odin.

While they waited for the Allfather, Frigga bent low over Loki, whispering to him, peppering kisses on his face between phrases. Alex scooted back to provide them even more privacy. Thor tracked her movement but said nothing, keeping his arm around his mother while she comforted Loki.

Odin arrived with little fanfare, appearing wearier than Alex had ever seen him. He strode to the space she’d vacated and Frigga moved back to her chair so Loki had a clear view of the king.

“Did he believe it?” he asked.

“Yes,” Loki croaked. “It worked.”

“Very well. We can discuss the details in more depth when Eir permits.” So even the Allfather was subject to Eir’s orders. He didn’t congratulate Loki or comment on the damaged state he’d returned in. Frigga’s seemed to notice too, as the look she gave her husband was not impressed. He reached inside his robe and retrieved a scroll. “I have one more matter to deal with. You made an offer to the girl?”

“She has a name,” Loki whispered.

“She was concerned at the validity of the magic you used to bind the contract, so I have drawn up another. All you need to do is provide your seal.”

Loki exhaled, a long, rattling breath, then gave an exhausted smile. “Of course.” He didn’t even look at her, but gestured for the scroll with his one good hand. Odin handed him a small wooden object which he pressed to the paper, before Odin pulled it away and handed the scroll to Alex. She saw up close that a disk of green wax with a horn insignia sat at the bottom of the page. Loki’s seal; his agreement to be bound by the magic Odin had invoked.

“Thor, you are required in the council,” Odin said, turning to leave the room. Thor kissed his mother goodbye and bowed to Alex before following, the weariness his father wore echoed on his own face and posture.

Silence fell and Alex was all too aware of the shift in the atmosphere. “I didn’t mean…” she said, staring down at the words she held in her hand, the promises Loki had made to her. “I didn’t know he’d do it like this.”

“It matters not,” Loki said. He seemed to struggle to find the energy to get the words out. “We are equally bound by it now.”

And she was. She had a sudden moment of feeling like she’d made a misstep; as if she’d been making her way down a staircase and miscounted the number of steps, tumbling into thin air as the ground she expected to meet her wasn’t there. She was on Asgard until the war was over, however long that would take, and there was nothing to keep Loki away from her.

If Frigga was curious about the promises her son had made, she kept it quiet, smoothing his hair away from his face.

Eir returned, shooing Alex away from the spot she was in, which was blocking access to vital medical supplies. She found herself back by his bedside while Eir removed more bandages and cleaned his skin where the wounds had healed over. It left both of his hands free and when the healer left, just before he drifted off to sleep, he found hers. His grip wasn’t tight enough to be painful but even when unconscious he was too strong to pull away from. He lifted their entwined hands together to rest on his chest and she could feel his heartbeat thudding through his skin. Just like all the times she’d slept with her head resting there, warm skin to warm skin, listening to the rhythm of his pulse.

---

Alex didn’t want to wake up. She was tired as she’d ever been, her neck throbbing, and all she wanted to do was roll over and burrow herself into Loki’s side. The only really warm part of her was where he held her hand to his bare skin—she could sense him close, smell him, hear him breathe, but must have rolled away in the night, because that was the only place they touched.

As her brain did a better assessment of her surroundings, moving beyond Loki, she realised she wasn’t in bed at all. She was just leaning against it, the downy cloud of a pillow beneath her cheek, but she sat in a chair. The awkward angle was why her neck hurt.

Summoning all her willpower, she cracked her eyes open, finding Loki only a handspan away, sharing the pillow. Except his hair was longer than she’d ever seen it, touching his shoulders, and his face was littered with cuts and bruises and—

The last of sleep disappeared and she sat up straight, ignoring her neck’s protests. There was no sign of Frigga or Thor, though she could hear someone moving around beyond the room. Loki’s amused gaze tracked her movements.

“So you do care after all,” he said. The last remnants of sleep still haunted his voice, making it low and raspy. He lifted their clasped hands and brushed his lips over fingers, his eyes glittering with promises.

She tugged them away and he allowed it. She could lie to him, tell him that she didn’t care about him at all, that she’d just been remembering a man long gone. Trouble was, it would be truly cruel to do him the state he was in, and cruelty wasn’t her style. It would be a cheap blow he’d probably see through anyway. “I never said I didn’t.”

He might not be capable of a full smirk, but he couldn’t keep the victory out of his eyes. Even so, it was a wistful victory, one he wasn’t sure of. “And that, Asta, makes all this worthwhile.” He made a vague sweeping gesture of his injuries.

“So you knew he was going to do this to you.”

“Of course.”

“And you have the nerve to call me stupid.”

The old mask was back in place, shielding whatever he really felt from her. “I had hoped you would believe it to be recklessly brave. That’s usually why I feel the need to insult your intelligence.”

“I’ve never deliberately headed off to get tortured.”

Loki managed a shrug. “I escaped, as was the plan. Thanos is an amateur at torture. He could have cut the tendons that enabled me to walk but focused all his attention on my upper body. All I had to do was wait for the perfect moment.”

“Which was?”

“When he announced he was about to render me incapable of fathering children.” He gave a sharp laugh which turned into a rattling cough, while she buried her face in her hands.

“That’s not funny.”

“Less so if I’d failed in my attempt to flee. He did give me the added incentive of bringing your name into it.”

“Don’t.”

“Don’t what? If there’s one part of our relationship where I would always be able to keep you satisfied, despite my other inadequacies, it’s that. He never intended to kill me. He wanted to make sure I was so broken I didn’t see the point in ever trying to escape.”

“I’m not going to throw myself into your arms and then fall into bed with you, whatever you think.”

“And here I thought I could persuade you to kiss me all better.”

She gave a dramatic sigh. “Whatever medication they have you on must be messing with your brain.”

“I know what I want, Asta.” She didn’t bother correcting the name. He probably thought he was being sweet in using it.

Exhaustion suddenly came crashing down, threatening to suffocate her. “I need to sleep.” He patted the empty mattress beside him and she shook her head, standing up. “In my own bed.”

“Come visit me?” he called out as she reached the door. She paused. It was only a matter of time before Frigga implored her to anyway.

“It’s not like I have anything better to do,” she replied without looking back. She didn’t need to. Loki wouldn’t take her words as an insult—he’d only see the victory in them.

Chapter 29: Adventures in further realms

The elves usually wield scythe-like blades, though much smaller than the agricultural tool. No one is sure why their weapons take this shape, since they have no agriculture of their own, but the most popular theory is that the blades allow for a clean motion during decapitation of either prey or an enemy. They also carry axes, which serve a more functional purpose.

Alex was deep into a history of Dokkalfarheim on the chair beside Loki’s bed. He was mostly asleep whenever she returned to visit him, so she planned ahead and brought some reading material from the library. There wasn’t any official process for checking the books out, and a complete lack of a librarian, but that didn’t make her feel any less guilty for just waltzing away with them. She tried to convince herself that so long as she took good care of them, she was sound, yet still ended up stowing them away surreptitiously in her deep pockets.

Dokkalfarheim had never been catalogued in Norse mythology despite the Asgardians knowing it well. It was the home of the dark elves, full of volcanic mountain ranges, forests of ash-blasted trees and deep, black lakes. The elves lived in caves formed by tubes of cooled lava and rarely came out of them. They didn’t sound like the friendliest of races.

Cool fingers wrapped around her wrist and she froze, glancing over the top of the book. Loki was watching her.

“I was wondering when you would realise I was awake,” he said, letting her pull her arm away. “Then I grew bored of waiting.”

She managed an uneasy smile and set the book down on the edge of the bed. “Sorry—it’s interesting.”

Even just a few days of Eir’s care had done him the world of good. The sheets now covered him to the chest, with the bandages completely removed from his upper torso and arms. Only scars remained, some an aged silver and some a raw pink, fading with every hour. Frigga had cut his hair to make it easier to care for him, and it was now the length it had been when Alex lost her memories. Chin-length, silky, yet not slicked back. She’d always preferred his hair a little messy. The circles beneath his eyes had vanished, the lines on his forehead smoothed out, so he looked years younger.

He picked up the book and frowned at the cover. “’A chronicle of the further realms’?”

“I got fed up of reading about heroic Asgardians smiting their enemies.”

“Aesir.”

“Excuse you?”

“Aesir, not Asgardian. Did I never teach you that? I suppose not.” He held the book back out to her. “Read to me?”

She reached for the book gingerly, and he tilted it at the last moment so their fingers grazed against each other. His eyes held no guile, and the contact seemed to give him a small amount of satisfaction. She shot him a warning look. “Why?”

“Knowledge nourishes my soul. It’s tiresome being confined to this bed, yet I wouldn’t be able to hold the book for long.”

“If that’s what you want.” She flipped back to the beginning of the book and began again.

She doubted anything in the book was new to him, and whenever she glanced in his direction he didn’t seem to be paying much attention to the words. Instead, his eyes would be half-closed while he stared at the scars on the back of his hand, or his unfocused gaze would be resting on her lips. Sometimes she’d find his fingers had crept closer to the free hand she left curled on the bed, keeping them only a hair’s-breadth apart. She didn’t bother shifting away. It seemed childish to keep moving away from him.

Only when the sun set did Alex leave, placing the book on the table beside Loki’s bed without waiting to be asked to return.

---

It took her three days to get back to the part of the book she’d been interrupted at.

“‘Dokkalfarheim has been seldom visited by outsiders, hostile as the dark elves are, as hostile as the landscape they dwell in.’” A black and white render filled the page opposite the text, of spindly cloaked figures grouped around a campfire. “‘Precious few have returned to document what they found.’”

She paused to take a gulp of water from the carafe. Loki tracked her movements, as he always did.

“Do you not feel honoured that you are one of those precious few?” he asked.

“Hmm?”

“We have been to Dokkalfarheim. More than once, in fact.”

“Really? I don’t remember.”

His lips slipped into the smallest of pouts. “I doubt the dark elves would be pleased to hear you say that, not when I took you to the jewel of their home, the Bjort Plateau.”

“Was it as dark and gloomy as the book is making out?”

“Not at all. It’s a beautiful place with a view of the surrounding fire-mounts; it receives the most sunlight and therefore has an abundance of plantlife. It was lush with greenery every time we went, not that the flora was the reason for our visit.”

“So why were we there?”

“To collect rock from beneath the plateau’s surface. It contained a kind of crystal formed from magma which could only be found in that place.”

“Wait…I think I do remember. You found some chunks of the rock that wasn’t good enough for what you needed, but I didn’t want to leave it because it twinkled. You turned it into glitter for me.”

She couldn’t have been older than five at the time; they’d stood high above the world with warm sunlight on her face. The land below was carpeted in a forest the colour of bone and lichen, and the ground she’d stood on was slick black rock. Her feet were bare, buried in a pile of sand-like glitter, and she’d happily decorated the plateau with it, pushing piles around to make crude shapes while Loki searched for whatever he was after. When he returned, smiling with success, he’d whipped up a mini storm so the glitter whirled around her, rising above her head until it fell in gusts from his fingertips. All the while, she’d shrieked with delight, and begged him to do it again for days afterwards.

“The second time did not end so well.” He pointed to where the book rested on the bed, at the open page and a new rendering. The faces of the spindly creatures were clearer in this one, sharp white features and bead-like eyes over needlepoint teeth.

“Christ, that was terrifying,” she said, the memory surfacing at the sight. “Was this on the plateau as well?”

“At the far end, in the shadow of the mountain. It gave them cover to approach us without alerting me—”

“—and by the time you realised, they had us pinned against the mountainside.” Loki had fought tooth and dagger but the elves circled around them, waiting for him to run out of blades.

“They weren’t happy I was attempting to take some of their natural resources. I must admit I feared us doomed, but even the simplest magic made them pause.”

“It wasn’t the magic.” She’d had an axe held to her throat and Loki had spun up the dust around them, shining like thousands of tiny blades. That wasn’t what had made the elves back away: it was the way Loki’s skin had coloured blue and his eyes blazed red. “It was the first time I saw you in your Jotun form.”

After she said the words, she looked away so he had the privacy to experience whatever emotions he wanted to at that revelation. She expected anger—probably propped up by self-loathing—but instead his first words were speculative.

“I heard Thor’s theory when you spoke of this on the Bifrost: that desperation at your danger made me revert to my true state.”

“It’s as good a theory as any.”

“It didn’t scare you, when you saw me like that?”

“Why would I? You were protecting me.”

“And you still don’t fear it, even when you know what it means?”

“No more than you scare me anyway.”

The words were out before she could think them through, and she cringed away from the savage look on his face. She’d cut him and even he hadn’t been quick enough to mask it. She opened her mouth to apologise, but her tongue refused to let her say the words.

“Don’t,” he said. “If I am to be honest, then I demand no less from you.”

“It’s not your frost giant side,” she rushed to explain. Heavens knew his self-loathing ran deep, under the arrogant exterior. Loki would turn it on the parts of himself that couldn’t be helped, rather than the things that actually needed to change, could be changed. Someday that self-hatred would burst out in a random act of cruelty...or another war.

“It’s my murderous side?” he guessed.

“It’s the part of you that acts with complete selfishness, no matter the consequences for other people,” she clarified. “Me included.”

He pursed his lips, considering her words. “There is truth to what you say; I can’t deny it. Perhaps now you’ve met the Allfather you understand why I am the way I am.”

“You can’t blame everything on him. There are plenty of people with shitty fathers who grow up to do wonderful things.”

He gave a derisive titter. Returning her focus to the book, she began reading again, for want of anything better to do.

“‘There are some who find beauty in that bleak landscape. They praise the blasted heights of the mountain plateaus, the shade of the dying forest, or the still waters of the Black Lake. It is not truly black; it’s depths are instead a luminous inky blue, like the heart of dark sapphire.’”

“And that lake?” he asked when she paused, the description stirring her memory. “Do you not remember that?”

She did.

The last time he took her to Dokkalfarheim was just before she’d graduated from university, when she’d been knee-deep in coursework and worrying how she’d get it all done. He’d promised her a weekend away from the worries, taking her to a cabin on the shores of that lake, but the view had been the farthest thing from either of their minds. He’d left her sore and aching, boneless and sated, begging him once again for more.

Alex couldn’t contain the flush of her skin at the memory, the way heat pooled in her cheeks and spread from her chest down. She shut the book with a thump and sat up straight in the chair. Loki reached up to trace the edges of her blush, the pad of his thumb so light against her cheek she could might not have felt it if she’d closed her eyes.

“You can fear me, so long as you desire me still,” he murmured, his pupils blown wide open, his irises swallowed by black. “After all, fear feeds desire, and given chance, I can erase the first altogether.”

She stood, keeping the book clutched tight to her chest, unconvinced for a second that her knees would cooperate. “It’s time for me to go.”

“Think of me when you’re away,” he said as she walked away. “Think of Dokkalfarheim and all the realms like it. In return, I shall think of you.”

The burn of his touch on her cheek stayed with her all the way to her chambers.

Notes:

A/N: Sorry for the delay in updating...although it has only been a week. I spoil you :P. It was due to a combination of writer's block and computer issues. For the first time I'd run out of stockpiled chapters. However, chapter 30 is already written and waiting for beta comments, and I'm working on more chapters over the next couple of days.

Chapter 30: Centre of the universe

When he was able to walk unaided, Eir agreed Loki was well enough to attend the war councils. They needed his knowledge of Thanos’ army and his strengths and weaknesses. Thor came to tell them they could go no further without it. He’d been sent by Odin, and Frigga’s disapproving glare told Alex that using him as a messenger was deliberate, because it meant the queen had no way of reproaching Odin for rushing Loki’s recovery.

For several days Alex saw little of Loki; she waited for him one evening in the library, as he’d asked her to, but when he arrived he looked fit only for sleep. She sent him on his way, retiring to her chambers in relief. Then she ensured she was in the safety of her rooms long before Loki would be free from the meetings. Instead, she resumed her perusal of the archives during the day. Some of the documents hadn’t been looked at in years, leaving her hands and clothes streaked in dust when she left each evening. She trained with Sif and dined with Thor and the Warriors Three, though she barely saw Frigga, who tended to Loki when he rested. He’d been moved from the healing ward to his own chambers, and she had no intention of venturing there.

If she hadn’t seen for herself how much he lacked energy, she’d have believed he was sending the dreams that plagued her through some brand of magic he’d never revealed to her before. As it was, she could only assume being reminded of their tryst on Dokkalfarheim was why she woke every morning, tangled in the sheets and coated in sweat, evidence of how restless she’d been in sleep.

She distracted herself with the archives. Seeing Loki in Jotun form had interested her in the frost giants. She wondered how they differed from humans or Aesir, beyond the obvious physical differences. Did Loki’s proficiency with magic come from them? So far everything she’d found painted them to be savages, but the material was strongly biased, written by chroniclers who were all too aware of Asgard’s superior might and technology. She didn’t have much luck in finding unbiased works about the Jotun, apart from a strange spelling of their name in a much older dialect of the Aesir tongue, one she couldn’t read.

After a week of this fragile respite, she returned to her chambers one afternoon, looking forward to filling the enormous bathtub and soaking until she her skin wrinkled. Instead, she found Loki waiting at her door.

“I hoped you’d return sooner rather than later,” he said as she approached. “I finally have some free time.”

She stopped a few feet away. “You look better than you did.” His face was completely healed and scarless, and a hint of a flush graced his pale cheeks. The way he’d shed the many layers of armour for a simple tunic and breeches helped, complimenting the more boyish appearance.

“Thank you.” He seemed pleased that she noticed. “I know you have no intention of allowing me into your chambers, so I would ask you to walk with me.”

“What do you want, Loki?” Her voice sounded tired and tight to her own ears. Well, damn him for invading her sleep. Even if he didn’t control her dreams it was exactly what he wanted.

“Time. Just your time and your company.”

Experience told her she wasn’t getting through the door if he didn’t get his way. “We can go to the gardens,” she offered, and he beamed.

“I’m sure Eir would approve of the fresh air after I have spent so many days locked in stifling chambers.”

As they walked she noticed a stiffness to his movements, not quite a limp but not his usual confident stride either. So he wasn’t completely healed. Given how quickly the Asgardians—Aesir—usually healed, it framed just how severe his injuries had been. That, or he was diverting his energies elsewhere, as he had been when he sustained her on life in Manhattan. That had slowed his healing. She didn’t even want to examine that possibility yet.

The gardens were quiet at this time of day, and he led her to a bench that gave them a view over the golden rooftops of the city.

“I have been completely pardoned,” he began. “The council agreed it this morning, when I finished giving them all the information I had. Eir and Thor detailed my wounds and it appears they suffice as punishment.”

She wasn’t sure what to say. She’d been expecting this all along: Loki was far more valuable to the war effort if he was kept on their side willingly, rather than being locked away to have secrets teased out of him. Odin would have argued this value to the rest of the council, and Loki doubtless knew it before he left to play his trick on Thanos.

“You don’t seem particularly happy about this, Asta.”

She stifled a sigh and closed her eyes. “I’m happy you won’t be locked away: you needed to be punished for what you did on Earth, but what Thanos did to you was enough. So I agree with them.”

He was silent for a moment, and when he spoke again his voice was filled with cold frustration. “You are determined to give me no quarter, to give me no real chance to win your affections again.”

“Loki—” She opened her eyes but kept her gaze out to the ocean.

“How fair is a bargain if it is entirely one-sided?”

“I didn’t even realise we had a bargain. You made a vow; it’s a completely different thing.”

“And part of that vow is I would court you again. You knew what that would involve. Instead, you hide away from me, seeking out the company of those who would happily see me dead. You think I haven’t noticed the bond my brother has forged with you?”

“Please tell me you’re not doing this.” She resisted the urge to bury her head in her hands, instead twisting her fingers together in her lap.

“Doing what, exactly?”

“Getting jealous of your brother. I can have friends, you know. If that pisses you off, we definitely have no future.”

“No, of course you would seek Thor out,” he spat. “As if I haven’t spent my life in his shadow, watching people pass me by so they could bask in his presence. This is why I kept you from Asgard for so long—so I wouldn’t lose you to him.”

“For pity’s sake! I don’t have any interest in Thor in the way you’re thinking. He’s friendly and uncomplicated, and that’s what I need in a friend right now.”

“Why would you ever need another friend? For years I was—”

“The centre of my universe? That’s not normal, to have so much focused on one person.”

“Why? You were the only friend I needed—the only friend I ever really had.” He leaned in close, staying just outside her comfort zone, green eyes filled with hurt and anger.

“You’re wrong. Thor wants to be your friend. He’s not trying to poison me against you; he wants me to love you as much as he does.”

“How can you? How can I compete?”

“I’m not asking you to compete with anyone! I’m not choosing between you and any other man—I’m deciding whether I become a footnote in your story, or to choose my own. Because that’s what a life with you would reduce me to.”

His fierce stare softened. “No. I wouldn’t allow that. You tell me what life you want to live, and I will bend the universe to create it.”

“I want my family.” Her voice sounded so small to her own ears: such a small request, seeming so petty against the backdrop of the world around her.

“Who I would never prevent you from seeing. Besides, you can have family here. My mother and Thor already accept you, and the king hardly matters since he never has time for any of us. You know I don’t really belong here myself; with you I would no longer be a cuckoo in the nest. You would be my family.”

During his last words he’d taken her hands, the familiar callouses against her fingers making her heart stutter. The knot in her stomach uncoiled, becoming altogether more pliant and unsettling at the loneliness in his face. It was something she’d known for years, from the times he’d spoken with such bitterness about Thor and how he was overlooked on Asgard. He’d always believed it was down to who he was, then to find out it was because of what he was…

But to be that for him was a daunting concept, especially outmatched as she was. Could she really bear the weight of all his emotions, even the darkest? It seemed a horrible burden, one she didn’t want, yet she was frightened of the consequences of leaving him to his loneliness too.

She shied away from him, wrapping her arms around herself and returning to the grand view of the landscape.

“I know I’ve held the place you had in my childhood against you,” she said. “Maybe that’s made it seem like I regret you ever being part of my life, and that’s not true. You gave me a childhood most people would kill to experience. What I regret is how you saw me as a pet.”

“Not a pet,” he protested. “At least, not for very long. It didn’t matter to me how young you were, not when you made me feel like I ruled the universe. Even now, you see me as a truly am—in that monstrous form—and you don’t flee.”

“It’s just skin.”

“Few people in this realm believe that.”

“See, you’re still blind to how good Thor is to you. He didn’t care either.”

“After all this, you try to heal the wounds between me and my brother.” He was half-frustrated, half-touched by this.

“He’s a good man. He cares about you more than you’re willing to admit,” she insisted. “There are people like him, that if you just let them in—”

“No. However much Thor cares for me, he still judges me. He wants me to change, to become more like him. You never asked that of me. I would happily sell a limb to get that back.”

“One of your own limbs?”

“Probably not.”

She laughed, and he turned to her with wistful eyes. “I miss that, too. I haven’t seen you laugh in so long.”

“I have very little to laugh about these days.”

“It seemed at one time you never stopped laughing.”

“You made me laugh. You made me happy.” It was so easy to confess these things with the surreal vista of Asgard below them, when she wasn’t looking at his face.

“And now?”

“Now, I never know what you’re going to do next. I never have, but I also never expected you to be capable of the things I’ve witnessed you do lately. It’s not an adventure anymore.”

She chanced a glance at him, and his lips had formed a thin line. “You are uncertain of me.”

“Always.”

Loki fell silent, staring out over the gardens. “You thought I didn’t notice you,” he said eventually. “When you tried to woo me.”

“Come on, Loki. You didn’t notice me at all. You thought I had a schoolgirl crush.”

“Not then—later. When you left your parents’ home. You had less time for me and I tried to give you space: to study, to spend time with your new friends, to dance and carouse. You became a woman. I saw you, then.” He caught her chin gently with two fingers and turned her to face him again. “I saw who you’d become and I wanted you. I watched you tempt other men then push them away, seeking out my company instead. I already knew what a wretch I was to even contemplate binding you to me. Worse, I risked losing the only friendship I had ever known that wasn’t tainted by politics and the Allfather’s machinations. In the end, you came willingly—you forced my hand—but I lost you anyway. The universe was a cold and lonely place when I realised you would no longer be by my side.”

She realised only when he stopped talking that she’d leaned in closer as he spoke, entranced by the movement of his lips, the way they formed the words she wanted to hear. That was the terrifying thing: she liked what he was saying. It was a much more satisfying idea than merely being his pet—it gave her life and all the memories tied up in that time period some meaning beyond being a pathetic lovesick girl.

There was one way to test him. “Do you truly mean everything you just said?” If she trusted Odin’s magic, his response could not be a lie.

“Yes. To remove all lingering doubt: I meant every word. I felt as strongly about you as you did about me.” His breath brushed her lips as he spoke, they were so close, his words pulling her in with a hypnotic tug. The dizzying spell of his eyes had a similar effect, but she couldn’t look away. “There’s the truth of it. I love you.”

He tipped his head and found herself doing the same thing, following a familiar routine for them. Her skin was alight with electricity, her mind still and quiet. She knew she should move, that she shouldn’t allow this to happen, but it was if he were a magnet and she was caught in his field, unable and unwilling to break free.

A shout from outside the garden yanked her out of the moment. She heard the scuttle of feet and playful taunts pass by, the sounds of children at play, and she pushed herself back to the other side of the bench. Loki watched her move, frustration lacing his features, but he didn’t pursue her.

“Thank you for your honesty,” he said, in that same hypnotic voice. “I hope I have left you feeling less uncertain of me.”

She dipped her head in a sharp nod, avoiding the avid affection in his stare.

“And you will uphold your end of the bargain?”

“Loki—”

“Please.”

The single word—one she didn’t think she’d ever heard him say before—made her pause. “Okay.”

“May I accompany you back to your chambers?”

She didn’t trust her voice, and as they walked back, he took her arm, resting his hand in the crook of her elbow. Despite the cloth between them she could feel the heat of his palm. When he took his leave the sense memory remained, bringing with it the unbidden recollections of body heat from dreams and the past she was running from.

She needed to be stronger than this. She’d known he would make promises and use pretty words to bespell her. She’d expected him to make the confessions he did. Yet, expecting something and it happening were very different things. His confessions—words and emotions—tugged at something inside her, appealing to the part of her she thought she’d cast aside. She owed him nothing, no measure of fairness after all the tricks he’d played, but the lonely boy under the many masks he wore was real. That Loki was the one cracking the ice around her heart. If she wasn’t careful, he’d work his way back inside her.

The problem lay in those moments where she wasn’t so sure that was such a bad thing anymore.

Chapter 31: The ride

Meet me at the stables after breakfast, the note said. We're going on an adventure. Wear riding breeches.

There was no signature but Alex recognised the handwriting and the green ink. She tried to get offended by the assumptive nature of the note—the way he'd casually commanded her to meet him there—but she couldn't. Not with the promise of an adventure. If they were going on horseback, then there was the likelihood they'd be going pretty far.

She hadn't left the palace grounds since Loki's return and had barely seen the city around the palace before that. Loki wouldn't want to stick to the bounds of the city, so finally they'd be venturing further afield. She couldn't remember spending so much time in one place, so the boundaries she'd been restricted to had begun to feel stifling. This was perfect timing.

She didn't need a guard to show her where the stables were anymore—she finally knew her way to the important parts of the palace complex. She emerged into bright sunshine, the blooms from a nearby tree perfuming the breeze. Loki waited by the stable entrance with the reins to a chestnut mare in his grip. He smiled in greeting—a rare unguarded smile, with no hidden agenda behind it.

"I've been informed you favour this mount," he said, stroking the chestnut's muzzle. She was all saddled and ready to go. In the stall behind him, a white stallion huffed and nudged at the wooden posts.

"And he's yours," she replied.

"Yes, he's eager to get out. It's been a long time since I rode him—the stable hands have kept him exercised but it's not what a creature like this needs."

Loki's limp was a thing of the past, and he'd been striding around the palace like the injuries had never happened. In fact, he almost seemed to be pretending the last few years had never happened, until he'd overhear the whispered remarks of someone in the palace staff or catch an askance stare, and then the glint of malice would return to his eye. Even here, the stable hands worked diligently, acting as if he weren't present. The talking would start after they'd left.

"He's only got four legs," she commented.

He frowned, the reference taking a few seconds to sink in. "Sleipnir is my father's mount. And no, I didn't birth him. He was merely the result of an…experiment."

"Hmm. If you say so. All the books I read in SHIELD's library say otherwise. I'd hate to find out you'd been concealing children from me for years."

His eyes narrowed. "Those stories were horribly mangled by that Sturluson being."

"But how'd he hear about them in the first place? There's supposed to be a grain of truth at the heart of every myth."

"I can promise you I have fathered no one and nothing. Those rumours were started by Angrboda. She did not take rejection well."

"Doth the maiden protest too much?" She tried to bite back the smile threatening to erupt at the look at on his face.

Strong hands grabbed her by the waist and hauled her onto the mare's back while she shrieked in surprise. When she was seated, giggling, a husky voice whispered in her ear. "Perhaps one day our offspring will be the kernel of truth at the centre of a story."

She abruptly stopped laughing, staring at his retreating form as he went to untether the stallion. Loki's children. Now there was a terrifying thought.

Staring at the back side of him gave her an excellent view of his backside as he fluidly climbed into the saddle. She'd forgotten how unsettling being around Loki could be: she'd switched emotions three times in the space of half a minute, from giddiness to confusion to lust.

"Now you have it. A prince on a white horse," he proclaimed as he trotted alongside her. You couldn't ever call Loki goofy, but the smile on his face at this ridiculous statement led him dangerously close. He definitely had the makings of a Disney prince at this moment. Shame he better fit the part of the villain too often.

And she was right back to confusion.

She cleared her throat. "So where are we going?"

"To the wildflower meadows; they're about an hours ride from here. I cannot take you on a proper adventure to another realm, but I can take you somewhere pleasant within this. We'll have peace there."

"We're going alone?" Meadows sounded isolated. Extended alone time with Loki sounded like a bad idea.

"Of course." He glanced sideways at her and took in her tense posture. "Don't worry, I have no intention of pressing my suit in that direction. If it satisfies you, Odin's ravens will be keeping a close eye on my movements so far from the palace."

"I didn't—"

"I'm not a fool, Asta. I realise even if you were to come to my bed willingly at this time, it would do me no favours. Nor would it be a renewal of our commitment. You would balk afterwards and I would lose even more ground. I'm able to ignore the short term demands of my body if it will secure what I want in the long term." Without looking back, he nudged the stallion into a canter, out of the gates to the road beyond.

The mare seemed glad for the exercise too, as Alex urged her to keep up. The path Loki took led them through the city walls and into the countryside that fringed it, the shining houses giving way to a perfectly paved road and rolling fields on either side. It reminded her so much of England, but with the saturation on the colours turned up high, and without electricity pylons or juggernauts spoiling the view. They passed other riders and wagons, spilling off the roadway and onto the softer earth on either side so they didn't need to slow down.

The breeze caught Alex's hair, billowing it out behind her. She'd forgotten how much fun this was, even without going at a full gallop: the closest she'd ever come to flying. That was a good thing—the moment she'd spent at the edge of the helicarrier with nothing but air between her and the ground had proven the ability to fly would do nothing but petrify her. This, she could handle. It was tons better than travelling by car, too, at least when the sky was such a perfect, open blue and there wasn't a raincloud to be seen. There was no glass fogging the view or metal keeping her locked away from the elements.

As mile followed mile, the flowers lining the road multiplied. Fluffy white blooms nestled next to tangerine-bright trumpets. The domestication of the fields gave way to untamed nature, with grasses that would have risen to her waist if she'd walked among them. Most of the plants looked like close cousins of ones she recognised from Earth, though she'd never been able to name many of those. If these weren't the wildflower meadows, they had to be close.

Loki slowed his mount to a trot and she followed suit, falling in alongside him. The wind had ruffled his hair too, leaving strands loose around his face.

"You're smiling again," he said.

"Don't look so smug. It's the horses doing, not yours."

He was never one to do what he was told, the glint in his eye failing to diminish. "Care to race?"

"No chance. It'd be completely unfair—your horse is bigger than mine and you've ridden more than me. Even with a head start—"

With a jab of her heels and tug of the reins, the mare was off, pulling away while Loki waited for her to finish her sentence. She heard his enraged shout a second later, then the answering drumbeat of his stallion's hooves as he urged it into a gallop.

She'd been right, of course. Despite her cheating, he overtook her easily—so easily, he got to choose the finish line, a stand of saplings growing at the edge of a stream. She dropped down the from the mare, leading her over for a drink.

One advantage cars had over horses: they were far gentler on the behind.

"I'd say this is a perfect place to take a meal," said Loki, reaching for a saddlebag as the stallion quenched its thirst too.

"Are you seriously suggesting a picnic?"

He cocked an eyebrow at her. "I fail to the see the problem in that."

She couldn't help teasing him. The sunshine, adrenaline and relative freedom had put her in the best mood she'd experienced in a long time. "Oh no, no problem. Just, you know, big bad god of mischief, on a pretty blanket in a meadow. People might get the wrong idea."

"If anyone were to question my titles, I could soon correct them. As it is, there is no one around here to see. Or to interrupt." With a flick of his wrist, a vivid green blanket appeared on the ground at their feet.

Alex gave one quick hand clap. "And for your next trick, you're going to magic up a wicker basket? That saddlebag looks awfully small." She should have realised he was perfectly capable of copying Mary Poppins' gimmick. Out came plate after plate of steaming delicacies, fluffy desserts and ice cold drinks. She decided the best way to show her appreciation was to eat as much as she could. The problem with that was when the food was all gone, she had no inclination to get back on the horse until the it had settled.

"We definitely need to wait a while," she groaned, forcing herself off the blanket and to her feet. Loki didn't seem at all perturbed. She was giving him what he craved: more time.

They decided to stroll, following the path of the stream while leading the horses by the reins. At first, conversation stuttered and stalled, Loki struggling to find a topic that she could offer more than pleasantries in response to. They'd already exhausted the weather and the ride over the picnic. Alex ended up paying more attention to the mare's exploration of the tender grasses, until Loki turned his tongue to a remembrance of the places they'd ridden in the past, and some of the calamities that had occurred while he was teaching her to ride.

"That pony—by the Norns, if I found that pony again, I'd have it turned into stew and fed to its shrew of an owner," Loki grumbled. She was giggling too hard to answer, remembering Loki tumbling into a muddy puddle after the pony butted him away. He'd rented it for the day from a widow with a soft spot for Alex; the pony was about the only thing small enough for her to ride. It had liked Alex as well as its owner, and distrusted Loki just as much.

They'd drifted under the cover of a copse, seeking a little shade after several hours of cloudless sky. When her giggles lapsed into silence, Alex realised the sound she'd assumed was the breeze in the branches was actually a melody from pipes of some kind.

"Someone lives here?" she asked, pulling the mare in the direction of the music.

"I suppose so," Loki answered. He followed her, though warily.

"It must be lovely. So peaceful." He muttered something nondescript in response. Peaceful was never going to impress him.

When the trees thinned they discovered a cottage, exactly how she'd always imagined witch's cottages looked in fairy tales: ramshackle and weather-worn, with extraordinary objects dangling from hooks outside to dry in the sun. The stream burbled happily past and rings of flowers spiralled out, carpeting the ground in shocks of blue and yellow. She was envious of anyone who got to spend their life here.

On the steps leading up to the front door, a young man sat with a wooden pipe between his teeth. He was the source of the lovely tune, though he'd stopped playing at their approach, a high-pitched blast sounding instead. Loki tensed and Alex stopped walking. The man rose, coming to stand on the bottom step.

"I know you," he called. Loki's hands balled into fists by his side. Alex decided friendliness would go down better than whatever hostility Loki was about to mete out, and set off towards the cottage again.

"We didn't mean to disturb you," she said. "We're just passing through."

The man turned his gaze to her, and she flinched at the insult it contained. "Of course you are. The traitor prince and a foreign whore aren't welcome here."

Alex's hand was over Loki's before he could do anything rash. She was aware of him, pressed right up behind her, a tower of rage.

"Your mother should have raised you with better manners," Loki spat. "There are some things one never says to a lady."

"And your mother ought to have made sure you were dead when she left you in the snow to die."

"Loki…" she warned as he gathered his magic. "It's just words." She wondered how the man could dare to speak to Loki like he did—he was still a prince of the realm, and one proficient in magic at that, not to mention how well he handled daggers. The answer came in the figures around them—a knot of people emerging from the trees, called by the warning blast on the pipe. "We really don't mean you any harm," she said to the man. "Let us pass and nothing more needs to come of this."

"Except the war," a voice from her left replied. "The war he's brought upon us."

"We'll all suffer," said another. "All except him. Already the men of our village have been visited by the recruiters." The village had to be nearby: near enough for them to hear the pipe and come running.

"You're not really our prince. You're a monster."

"It is treason to attack me," Loki growled. "Do so and nothing will be left of your village at all."

From the corner of her eye, she saw the glint of a blade. Sadly, not Loki's blade. "Treason to attack you, aye. But what about her?"

The man was already moving before he'd finished speaking, and only Loki's quick reflexes pulled her out harm's way. Instead, the man stumbled into her mare, his blade slashing down her leg. She reared back; Alex screamed; the man dodged away from the trampling hooves just in time.

That left him in arm's reach of Loki's daggers, and Loki wasted no time in rounding on him, aiming straight for his throat. Alex grabbed Loki's wrist, yanking him away, the sense memory of his failed attempt to skewer Coulson rising inside her. "Stop it!" she yelled. "Don't do this, not now." Loki turned his murderous stare on her, a flicker of crimson lighting his eyes.

"He tried to kill you."

"But he failed."

"He should pay."

"Not with his life!"

Loki turned back to the man, his blades melting into nothingness, and casually backhanded him so hard he landed at the foot of of the other villagers. They were gathered on the other side of the clearing, staring in stunned horror.

"Take him and leave." When no one so much as twitched, he tried again. "Go!" he roared. They scattered, while Loki grabbed the reins of the panicking mare and soothed her with a simple piece of magic. Alex rested against the stallion instead, stroking his flank to calm herself as much as to calm him. It was all too easy to pretend Loki's temper was something she'd elaborated in her memory, until she was faced with it again.

"The mare will need to be tended to," he told her, the anger already melted from his voice. He rose from checking the horse's injury, and the stiffness of his back showed her how much he was struggling to keep himself under control. "She won't be able to ride back to the palace until she's healed."

"How..?" He interrupted her with a click of his tongue, and a raven swooped down to perch on a bough above their heads. It took one glance at the scene and erupted skyward.

"He will fetch a healer for her and the sheriff to deal with that fool." His control was already cracking. She stepped towards him and laid her hand on his forearm, hoping it would redirect his attention.

"Thank you," she said. "For protecting me, and for listening to me when I asked you not to kill him."

For a second he just stared at her. Then he crumpled in on himself. Oh, he stayed standing, but his face reverted to a boyish confusion she'd never seen on him before: pain and wonder and a thousand things she couldn't identify. While she struggled to remember to breathe, he caught her, pulling her in even closer until he could lower his lips to her forehead. What she thought was a simple kiss turned out to be a mantra he whispered against her skin: thankyou, thankyou, thankyou.

He gathered her tight to him, tucked under his chin, one arm around her waist and the other hand pressing lightly to her neck. Gradually, the rhythms of his body—pulse and breath—bid her to relax, resting her head against his chest and closing her eyes, enjoying his body heat and the planes of his torso. His scent was so much more pleasant than the last time she'd been this close to him: ever-present leather, the perfumed soap from the palace, a light hint of sweat from the day's activities, and the cool bite of Loki underneath it all. Heavens knew why this had affected him so much, but she'd let him take the comfort he sought. Part of Loki's problem was he'd never been given the comfort when he needed it.

Their reverie was interrupted by the raven's return. Loki pulled away, keeping his arm around her waist, to converse with it in undertones. He moved away from her to tether the mare to one of the trees beside the stream. "A healer is on the way," he said, "but we'll both need to ride on my mount to return to the palace." She nodded, allowing him to help her into the stallion's saddle. She feared to say anything in case it somehow broke the mood between them, instead leaning back into him when he climbed up behind her.

The ride back was slower, since even the stallion couldn't canter with both of them on his back. The joy of the morning had evaporated, but even with the turn of events in the copse, she carried some of the peace she'd felt with her all the way back to the palace. Despite the display of his fierce anger, his quickness to lash out, she was feeling something she hadn't in a long time: safe in Loki's arms.

Notes:

I managed to get this written and pre-read before leaving for the family trip, so ta-da! It's more likely that chapter 32 will be delayed, however, since it does not yet exist.

If you haven't seen the Disney Prince Loki gifs, you really ought to. Just Google them. They're from Thor deleted scenes.

Chapter 32: Thrown Down

Dinner in the palace was a quiet affair that evening. Alex didn’t have much appetite after the picnic and the events of the day, so rather than joining Frigga’s table, she retired to her chambers to read in peace on her balcony. Loki had been called away immediately upon their return to provide testimony of the events, while Sif had come running to check she was unharmed. Then Alex was called into another room to give her own version of the afternoon, to a sheriff’s scribe.

“You could not name your assailant?”

“No,” she said. “I couldn’t even really describe him.”

“But the ravens could,” Sif interrupted. “They saw it all.”

“We’re arranging for their testimony to be collected as well,” the scribe answered. “I’m curious as to how the man escaped uninjured when the prince was present.”

“I don’t know if you could say he was completely uninjured—Loki gave him quite a whack.”

“That’s all?” Sif asked incredulously.

“Don’t get me wrong, he was going to kill him, but I asked him not to.”

“And he listened to you?” The scribe’s tone was neutral, though he looked just as surprised as Sif. He took her nod as confirmation.

“What will happen to that man?”

“Don’t worry,” said Sif. “He’ll be punished.”

“Punished how? He was upset—they all were—and I can understand why.”

“He attacked you with a blade, my lady,” said the Scribe. “He’ll likely be flogged, at least.”

She winced. The Asgardian justice system was unknown to her but she suspected if flogging was an option, capital punishment was still in use too. “Can you make it known that I don’t want that? Make him pay a fine or something. I didn’t want Loki to harm him, and I don’t want anyone else doing it either, even if it’s part of an official process.”

“My lady, this man must be seen to be punished—”

“You could make him pay for the care of the horse,” Sif suggested.

“Yes, that would be perfect!”

The scribe nodded and noted the suggestion down. “Very well. Thank you for your time, my ladies. I must go find the ravens now.”

She’d been assured the mare was doing well, with the blade only cutting her skin and not injuring the muscles or tendons beneath. Knowing that, she really didn’t want the man to suffer too harsh a punishment. The villagers were justified in holding a grudge against Loki, at least, if they were expected to fight in the war. After seeing what the Chitauri had done to Manhattan, their homes didn’t stand a chance if the invasion was successful, and they could all lose their lives or loved ones. Alex had to take a little responsibility for that, but Loki’s lapsed pact with Thanos could bring all of Asgard to ruin. She’d already known how people felt about Loki, but either he didn’t, or he’d thought himself safe from attack, and her by extension in his presence.

Her head hurt. She was beginning to enjoy herself in Loki’s company again, but there would always be reminders of his reprehensible behaviour. She’d had more fun this morning than she’d had in…years. Since before she lost the test. Then, this afternoon, he’d been vulnerable, a state she’d never expected to witness him in. Parts of her best friend were beginning to re-emerge, but she still didn’t know if it was enough to fix the way things were between them.

But he’d listened when she asked him to stop. That had to count for something.

The freedom of the morning had lit something inside her, rekindling her spirit. She was tired of emptiness and misery. She wanted to live, really live, again. She couldn't keep treating her time here as a limbo and letting it waste away, not when she was fighting so hard to get her mortality back and therefore limiting the time she did have.

Yes, she wanted to go home and see her family again. They would always be her anchor and she owed them so much time. But she'd feel too stifled if she were there for the rest of her life.

Loki had ruined normality for her, but she could no longer blame him for it. He hadn't done it deliberately. The question was, was it Loki himself she needed to feel this alive, or could she keep this spark burning without him?

---

Loki’s day of freedom meant he was required to work twice as hard over the following days, and Alex didn’t see him at all. Breakfast with Frigga was the closest she could get to anyone she knew, since they were all so busy.

“The way the servants are around me has changed again,” she said on the second morning, while they were alone at the table. She still wasn’t used to being waited on constantly, but Thor had proven to her that the palace staff were well paid and well treated. At first, they’d been polite but distant, then with Loki’s return they’d become overly polite and cautious around her. Now, some of them had shown signs of being less frosty, but curious as well.

“Are you surprised?”

“What do you mean?”

“Word has spread wide about how you stayed Loki’s hand, in the palace and beyond. It is my understanding people are astonished that my son will listen to you, even in a fit of rage.”

Alex squirmed in her seat. “He doesn’t always.”

“As far as the people have seen, he listens to what you say. Loki was within his rights to hurt or kill the man who attacked you, and you were within your rights to ask it of him, and yet you chose leniency instead. Everyone knows it was you who asked for the man to be fined rather than flogged. We listened to your suggestion, despite the king’s reticence. He’s always believed a firm hand acts as a good deterrent. Instead, people are wondering if you are a moderating influence on Loki.”

“I’m good PR?”

Frigga frowned at the unfamiliar term. “Your name in this realm has been associated with Loki’s, and not in favourable terms. Now, your true character is becoming known and people are re-evaluating you. If you depart after the war, the fact you spared a life will be your legacy.”

“Even if other people die because of me?”

“There is no blood on your hands here. This is of Thanos’ making: we would have to keep him from taking the Tesseract wherever it was. Better Asgard than Midgard. While some people will still seek to lay blame at your door, if only because of your association with Loki, others will begin to think deeper. The mare is due to be returned to us tomorrow, entirely healed. No real harm has befallen anyone involved—I would say things have worked out well, wouldn’t you?”

---

Alex didn’t understand how they were tracking Thanos and his army, but somehow Loki and Heimdall had devised a way to lift the shield covering the invasion force. It only lasted for short periods of time and left Loki exhausted, yet Thor was quick to praise Loki for the assistance he was providing. No one kept her updated on the progress, but she knew the army was getting closer all the time. It was clear by the way the preparations moved even quicker. Rations were put in place, buildings reinforced, populations moved about to ensure no one was left undefended. It could be days, weeks or months, but Thanos was on his way.

Piercing his shield wasn’t the only way Loki assisted, though he was rarely inclined to discuss the preparations with Alex.

“It’s grim business. If my time with you is to be limited by such things, I do not wish to dwell on them when I can be with you.”

She was used to eating dinner with Frigga’s small entourage, unsure where Loki disappeared at mealtimes. He’d never been a big eater anyway. So when he flopped down at her side between soup and the entree one evening, it came as something of a surprise.

Flopped was exactly the word to describe the way he slumped into the chair. His gradual exhaustion had given way to pure weariness, and he didn’t utter a word as Frigga motioned for soup to be brought over for him. The queen could clearly see how tired he was too—it was like he’d regressed back to his days in the hospital bed. Another servant was summoned over, and Frigga asked for Eir in hushed tones.

“Don’t,” Loki said, staring down at his bowl. “I’m not sick, merely in need of replenishment.”

The set of Frigga’s lips told Alex she disagreed but the servant was dismissed without further instruction. Loki didn’t say another word, just ate as much as Alex had ever seen him consume in one sitting. He seemed oblivious to the conversation around him, with even Thor wise enough to leave him in peace. Luckily he acted as a buffer between his brother and Sif, who seemed to take offense at every noise Loki made. Alex did her best to distract Sif, hoping Loki wouldn’t notice, or at least ignore, the glares being directed his way.

When all the plates were cleared and people only remained for conversation, he leaned over to Alex. “Will you accompany me? I’m afraid I may not be much company, but I would like yours all the same.”

She fought the urge to flinch at the way everyone’s heads swivelled towards them, drinking in how close he was to her. Ultimately, it was none of their business—no matter how much Sif sulked or Frigga smiled encouragingly.

“Of course,” she whispered back, standing up and offering her arm so he could lean on her. He frowned at the need to, stubbornly keeping himself upright, but he couldn’t resist curling his fingers around her elbow. She ignored the whispers that erupted as they left the dining hall.

When there was no one around to see, he did let her take some of his weight, though he was so much taller than her anything more would have been awkward. “Are we going anywhere in particular?”

“Just to my chambers,” he replied.

“Normally I’d be worried you were luring me there under false pretences, but today I don’t think I need to worry. Have you been tracking Thanos?”

“No. I’ve been in the weapons vault, adding additional protection to the cube. Being so close to it was draining.”

“Tell me about it,” she muttered, before biting down on her lip. Too late; he’d noticed her reaction.

“I do not follow.”

“It doesn’t matter. Are we nearly there? You seem to be getting heavier.”

He stopped walking. “I hardly think it’s fair that you can avoid speaking the truth to me when I am going against my very nature to be constantly honest with you. When have you been in the weapons vault?”

Even this momentary blast of anger failed to carry it’s usual bite, his exhaustion was so extreme. Nevertheless, she knew he wouldn’t go any further until she answered him properly—and he did have a point about honesty. “When you were gone, Odin took me down there to check the Tesseract was real.”

“He wished to ensure I hadn’t double-crossed you all?” She nodded. His expression said Odin’s actions were understandable. “But you had a reaction to the cube, like you did when we used it to return here from Midgard.”

“Worse.”

He cursed, harsh Asgardian words she’d never heard him use before. “How dare he. He knew what it would it do to you. Time and again he shows himself to be crueler than those of us he condemns as wicked.” He turned in the opposite direction, and she stopped him before he’d managed two steps.

“Where are you going?”

“Where do you think?”

“Not like this, you’re not. You won’t make it to the end of hallway before you collapse.”

“What do you expect me to do? You are determined to flee from the harm you believe I may inflict on you, yet stop me at every turn when others seek to hurt you. The man who attacked you, the Allfather—their mistreatment you take without complaint! Why will you not allow me to protect you?”

“I don’t need protecting!”

“I wish it were so, but it is not. If people know that to harm you will bring my wrath, they will think twice on it.”

“I’m sure people already know that. Your father doesn’t fear you, and he does what he has to. You going to yell at him and collapse in a stupor at his feet won’t help anyone.”

He shut his mouth so hard she heard his teeth clack together. “As you wish.”

“Come on. Let’s get you to bed.” His only reaction was to mooch moodily in her wake. “See, that’s how bad it is. I gave you the perfect opening and you missed it.”

“Innuendo merely reminds me of what I am missing.”

She sighed at his sour state and held out her arm so he could resume leaning against her. “Do you need to go back down there tomorrow?”

“No.”

That was a relief. There was more to Loki’s mood than just tiredness. He hadn’t been this grouchy since they’d been on Earth. It was as if the cube affected his mood, but as far as she knew he’d never held it himself.

One idea occurred to her. “Where did the sceptre come from?” she asked. It’d been in his presence from the moment he came to take her from the helicarrier, giving off the same light as the Tesseract itself.

It took him a few moments to answer, all his energy seemingly focused on staying upright. “Down here,” he murmured, pointing at an alcove in the wall. He staggered into it and the world shimmered as they passed through an illusion into another corridor on the other side. She was still gaping behind them as he spoke. “Thanos provided it. It was fashioned when he had contact with the cube in the past, built from its power and linked, which helped propel me to Midgard.”

“Can you feel its presence when you’re close by?”

“Yes.” He stopped in front of a blank patch of wall, but she was less impressed this time when he grasped a handle that wasn’t there a second before and swung the now-visible door inwards. “I doubt SHIELD knew enough to give you a history of the cube while you recuperated. However, we’ve had centuries of experience with it. We know not just its benefits, but the dangers it poses too.”

“Dangers like it burrows into your head.”

He stepped inside and ushered her in. She blinked in the gloom, before torches flickered to life along the walls. “Precisely. It offers you what you want, your strongest desires, but once that connection is forged it cannot be broken. Weakened by distance, yes, but the cube does not let go. I foolishly thought that the sceptre would not affect me in the same way, but I still feel an echo of its touch when I am close by.”

Alex was only half paying attention to Loki’s words, distracted by her surroundings. She’d never seen his chambers before, and the size of the room they stood in was astonishing. In the candlelight she couldn’t even see all of it, the corners shrouded, but every inch she could see was covered in books. Wall to wall bookshelves, scarred desks piled high with old scrolls and leather-bound tomes, more piles on the floor—there might be more here than even in the archives. It even smelled like the archives, that delightful old parchment scent.

She wanted to explore, but he was swaying on his feet, eyes blinking rapidly as he tried to stay awake. “Through there?” she checked, indicating a door to their right. His mumbled confirmation had her tugging him along, through the threshold into his bedchamber.

The books had found their way in here too, though the bed was free of them. She was pretty sure beds only came that large on Earth if they were custom made. The sheets were still rumpled, so she didn’t have to attempt pulling all that fur and silk back to get him in—she just let him fall to the edge where he half-sat, half-slumped against the pillows. She was surprised by the lack of his favourite colour scheme in the room. No green, no black, but gold and ivory instead. It was more welcoming than she’d expected.

She unbuckled his boots and set them aside. “I’m not undressing you, okay? You can do it yourself or sleep in your clothes.”

He mumbled again, then stripped his tunic awake, tossing it to the floor. When his hands went to the laces on his breeches, she backed away.

“Going now. With my eyes closed.”

“No, wait.” He gathered the last of his effort and reached for a box on the cabinet beside the bed. It was much too big to be for jewellery, so she didn’t feel the immediate need to run; she needed both hands to hold it, though it was light. It was carved from polished black wood, the hinges and clasp solid gold. “Look inside.”

She cradled it on one arm and flipped the lid open, letting a squeal slip out when she saw its contents. “The glitter? When did you get this?”

“Always had it.” He slid further back on the bed, burrowing his way under the covers, breeches forgotten about. “You were my friend. I kept things to remind me…even if you grew up to forget about me…I’d have them to help me remember someone…was my friend once.”

He gave up fighting to stay awake then, and she was glad for it. He couldn’t see her cry if he was asleep.

Notes:

You may have noticed this chapter does not include any actual throwing, as the title may imply. It's named after a Fleetwood Mac song which I realised as I was writing it fits this story quite well, lyrically, especially the chorus. Even if you don't want to listen to the song, it's worth looking the words up.

There won't be as long a wait for the next chapter, which is already written. And a biggie.

Chapter 33: Sirens

What do I want to do with my life?

The words glared at her from the top of the page, the dot on the question mark a smudged blob because she’d used too much ink. Quills and parchment were still a novelty to her.

Alex hadn’t been able to sleep after Loki’s confession, returning to her own chambers to bathe and rest, but even before her head hit the pillow she’d known it was no good. She kept thinking about the box full of glitter and the other keepsakes she’d noticed cluttering his rooms on her way out—preserved flowers, pieces of coral, a bandanna she’d once used to protect her head from the sun. She’d left the glitter behind. It was his memento, not hers.

Her thoughts had led her to a desk in the main room, bathed in bright moonlight, space cleared to write. If she didn’t want to waste any more of her life, she needed to figure out what she wanted to do with it. Maybe writing it down would give some clarity.

I want to be happy.

So simple an idea, and yet so complex. She’d never nailed it down more than that when she was younger: people had asked her what kind of career she wanted, and she’d given different answers every time, none of them that appealing after she properly considered them. Teacher, journalist, midwife, social worker, chef, flight attendant… She hadn’t even had a favourite subject at school, and her degree had been in English Literature, purely because she liked to read. Even at the time her parents had asked her what she was going to do with it.

What makes me happy?

She enjoyed learning. She enjoyed travelling, but apart from travel writer, she’d never found a job that would pay her for wandering the universe.

Really, they were two parts of the same process. If she couldn’t go somewhere and see something with her own eyes, she’d read about it instead. That was why she’d found solace in the books SHIELD gave her, and the archives here.

The other option, offered by her mother at an early age, was to find a nice boy and settle down. Loki definitely didn’t qualify as a nice boy, but despite the threat she’d once made to him, a nice boy probably wouldn’t make her happy. Not the kind her mother had always envisioned Alex marrying, with a stable career and a home for her to look after. She needed adventure and change. Settling down was the opposite of what she wanted. She was going to be pursued by SHIELD anyway; settling would just help them find her quicker.

I want to learn. I want to travel.

She didn’t want to stay in Asgard, at least not in the palace. There was too much pressure here, too much expectation. Frigga was already starting the process of making her Loki’s keeper, of spinning her into Loki’s redemption in the eyes of the people. The queen meant well, but underneath it all she had as much guile as her husband.

Loki’s comments about family—and that crack about children the day they visited the meadows—had made her give serious thought to the subject. She had no idea if he’d meant it, but that was an easy decision to make. Loki, as it stood, was not in the right place to be a father. Actually, it had the potential to be disastrous. He needed to come to terms with his heritage and his own place in the universe before he started taking on new identities. So did she. She should probably speak to Sif about birth control. If Alex did have a moment of weakness around Loki, pregnancy wasn’t an option. She’d always relied on Loki to prevent it in the past, but now she suspected he’d let nature takes it course. After all, if she had his child, she was definitely tied to him.

I don’t want to be royalty. Or a mother (for a long, long time).

That answered some questions, if not what she’d do for money. The biggest one remained unanswered, but Loki still had time to persuade her one way or the other. The more open he was with her, the more he swayed her, but heavens only knew what he could do when faced with Thanos again. He’d been defeated twice; desperation to avoid it a third time could lead him to do things she couldn’t accept. And beyond that was the more worrying question of what he wanted. If the Tesseract showed you what your heart desired and he’d wanted to be a king, how long would it be before he switched sides again?

I want to know how badly Loki wants a throne.

---

Alex knew the only way to get an answer to that question was to ask him directly. After all, he couldn’t lie to her, so she’d be guaranteed an honest answer. Cowardice stayed her hand. She let him go about his work, but instead of skulking about in the library during the day, she asked Frigga if she could take a few guards and explore the realm on horseback. She couldn’t go out alone—not when many people still distrusted her—and she couldn’t go out with Loki so they didn’t stumble into a repeat of the last time.

“That’s a wonderful idea, my dear,” the queen said. “Perhaps on days when we are available, you could ride with myself, or Sif and the Warriors Three?”

It was easy to see what Frigga was doing: she wanted to show people that Alex was close with them all. However, exploring would be more fun with company, so she agreed to it.

Her time with Loki was confined to the palace, so instead he took her on a different kind of exploration. They crept down passages long forgotten until he’d discovered them as a boy, unpeeled illusions left by centuries dead mages, and climbed every tower for the views they afforded over the realm. She still shied away from the questions she needed to ask him, and they’d reached a stalemate. They talked and talked but he’d bared as much as he could. The only parts left were the wounds Eir couldn’t heal, the wounds Alex was too afraid to go near for fear of the reactions it would cause. Odin had taken no steps towards reconciliation for the lies he’d told and until that relationship was on the way to reparation, prodding at those scars would unleash havoc she couldn’t control.

Though days were of an equal length to Earth, Asgard’s different sun and moons meant time was measured differently. It made it difficult to keep track of the date, especially since her monthly cycle was all over the place. As best as she could tell, she’d been on Asgard for six months, with winter finally approaching. It would probably confine her to the palace for a time if travelling would become difficult.

She and Loki had convened on their bench in the gardens for the evening, and he’d draped his cape over her shoulders for extra warmth.

“The Allfather has asked me to assist in rebuilding the Bifrost after the war is over,” he said, producing a cup of spiced tea from thin air. She took it gratefully, wrapping her fingers around it.

“Why wait? If you’ve built all the defences you can, why not start rebuilding it now?”

“It would be like building a road for Thanos to march his army in on. For now, my ideas will remain theoretical.”

“And what then?” she asked quietly. “When the bridge is finished?”

“Then I go to Jotunheim.”

“Is that Odin’s idea too?”

“Yes. If we are to have peace between our two realms then I must repair the damage I wrought on them. I believe he wants me to take the throne in the process; then the realms will be aligned. It will also solve the problem of what to do with me. I’ll no longer be the spare heir.”

“Do you want that?” She set the tea aside, her stomach too unsettled to drink anything, huddling closer into the cloak. It seemed the universe wanted her to untangle Loki’s motives, even if she wasn’t quite ready.

“Do I want the throne?” He twisted to face her, tipping her head towards him so she couldn’t avoid his gaze. “No. I don’t want any throne.”

She released the breath she’d been holding. “That’s a big change of heart.”

“Perhaps. But my motivations have never really been to rule, not in that sense. It’s too much time in councils and ceremonies, too much responsibility. I never sought the throne here, despite being told my entire life I would be a king, whatever desires the Tesseract twisted from me. Being away from the cube’s manipulations has given me clarity again. Jotunheim is a poor consolation prize, and it is not my home. I can rebuild it and leave it in the hands of whichever ruler they choose in my place.”

“It will still be in your blood,” she said gently.

“Oh, I’m well aware. I hope time there will allow me to accept that part of myself—I suspect my mother hopes the same thing. I’m not convinced it will work, not when it’s the attitudes of the Aesir which need to amend, but I have no control over those.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologise for matters beyond your doing and your control, Asta. This is the king’s fault. You know, I wonder sometimes how my life might have been if I knew all along. If I had known the throne was truly beyond me from the beginning, events would have been very different. I needn’t have considered protocol when it came to you; I would have had a certain freedom.”

“How so?”

“For one, I wouldn’t have needed to bring you to be tested. I’d have just stolen an apple from the orchards, then whisked you away for good. We’d have spent our lives going from one adventure to the next, exploring the realms properly without care for duty or propriety.”

“I’d have liked that.” And she would. What she didn’t voice was the belief that he wouldn’t—not for any length of time. Loki had spent centuries being primed for the throne: it would never have been as simple as walking away from that. Loki enjoyed their jaunts to other realms but he wasn’t free-spirited enough to travel endlessly. He needed a goal, and he needed a base to weave his schemes from. He thrived on the machinations of court and his place in them, like a spider on a web tugging at the right strands to ensnare the juiciest fly. A simple life would neither have suited or satisfied him. Maybe he didn’t want the throne for his own, but he wouldn’t object to being the power behind it. Thor had always believed that was what Loki would become: his closest, wisest adviser. “What would you do if I weren’t here?”

He stiffened, and she reached out to cover his hands, to silence him before he took her words the wrong way.

“I don’t mean it like that,” she said. “I just mean…if we’d never met.”

“If we’d never met, I wouldn’t be here,” he said. “I would have fled to Thanos’ side to take revenge for Asgard’s slights against me. Or I’d be working to make sure Thanos lost, but so did the Allfather.”

“But if there was no war? If you’d been told who you were, and that Thor was the only real heir, but you’d never ended up in the void?”

“Then, I suppose, I’d be able to devote all my time to studying magic, without the burdens of being a prince. I wouldn’t have walked far from Thor, though—he may have learned, but he’s still too brash, too quick to act. Someone would need to watch him closely, to steer him away from dangerous courses.”

As she’d thought. “I know you think he wouldn’t listen to you, but I actually think he values your advice. At least when it’s to his benefit and not going to land him in exile.”

Loki laughed sharply. “Yes, that got out of hand. If he were king then I would ensure he was doing what’s best for this realm. I may not be fond of its people anymore, or they fond of me, but it’s still my home.”

He laced their fingers together, and she was reminded so much of the first time he’d brought her out here: his confession of love and the near-kiss. They’d come so far since then, but in some ways, they hadn’t moved at all.

“I’ve been doing a lot of thinking,” she said hesitantly, and his fingers stilled. “And I’ve made some decisions.” He didn’t move a muscle, holding his breath while he waited for her to speak. The green of his irises had shrunk to a thin ring, leaving her staring into blown pupils. “I don’t want to stay immortal.”

He pulled away, a mask of stone falling over his features, but she caught his face between her palms.

“I said I didn’t want immortality. It’s a separate decision to whether I want you or not, and you know why I don’t want to live so long. I want one life, one short mortal life that I can fill with fun and happiness. Not endless years of court, diplomacy and power struggles.”

“And what about me?” he asked, his voice cracking. “What about when that short life is over?”

“You do what you told you would do without me—you work with Thor. You make the best of the time we have together and then you make sure Asgard is governed well.”

“Then there will be time together,” he whispered, caught somewhere between anguish and hope.

“Maybe. If we can agree a compromise.”

“I’m not very good at compromising. But I can try. What do you propose?”

“I get my mortality back. You promise not to revert back to the path you’ve been on the past few years if we’re separated again—through my walking away, or reaching the end of that mortality. In return, I’ll spend that life with you. Not here, not all the time, but exploring the universe again.”

“Trying to keep me out of trouble?” His eyes had drifted closed, a kind of peace settling over him.

“Perhaps.”

“You know I will spend your life trying to convince you to eat of Idun’s orchards again.”

“Yeah, I know. But you’ll accept the choice I’ve made now.”

“Yes,” he said, eyes opening again to show his pupils were still blown wide open, though the emotion behind them had changed. “For now, it’s a compromise. In time, I will still get my way.”

“Hmm.” She was too caught in his delicious smirk to formulate a real response. The setting sun had drenched his skin in a vibrant aura of colour, his lips pinker than she remembered them being. Her hands rested against his throat and he reached up to thread his fingers into her hair, an old habit he’d been resisting for months.

There was no reason to hold back. No reason to feel this nervous, either—they’d done this so many times. Yet Loki moved slowly, giving her time to change her mind, letting his nose just brush against hers. Whatever he saw in her made him exhale—a short burst of air, part sigh, part laugh, all joy. Then finally, finally, he kissed her.

The soft press of lips to lips should not have had this kind of effect on her. She melted into him, against him, felt him smiling as he tilted her head back fractionally. Though he knew her so well, he explored her like a new lover: barely-there touches, her lips caught between his, the slow glide of his tongue. Making up for the times they could have kissed and didn’t. He was apologising, sealing their agreement and claiming her again, all at the same time.

She broke away to gasp, lips tingling with the memory of sensation, and he moved to nuzzle her jaw. They needed to go inside before this progressed—even in the darkness of the gardens someone could discover them.

“Loki,” she whispered, and he moaned, covering her mouth with his fingers.

“No words,” he said. “Please, no words.” The brief flare of panic on his face told her he thought she was regretting it. She kissed the pads of his fingers instead.

“Not out here.”

“Why not?” His teeth scraped gently against the pulsepoint in her neck, and she forgot what she’d been trying to say.

“I—” She stopped, distracted by a beam of light near the splintered end of the Bifrost. “What’s that?”

He followed her gaze, fingers tightening in her hair. It took him a moment to focus, then he cursed, pulling away. In the harsh glow from the light, he looked paler than ever, and worse, afraid.

“It is Heimdall’s warning signal—he can see Thanos clearly despite the cloak. He’s close.” Even his voice was tight with fear. He scrambled up from the bench, tugging her along behind him, back into the shelter of the palace walls. “It means the army has reached Asgard.”

Notes:

Happy Valentine's Day :). Timing completely coincidental.

Chapter 34: New tricks

“Where are we going?”

Loki bypassed her chambers, leading her down an unfamiliar passageway to a set of descending stairs. She was almost jogging to keep up with his long, rapid strides. The palace had wound down for the evening but now she could hear it springing to life again: voices and footsteps echoing from unseen corridors, panic and adrenaline already buzzing through the atmosphere. Her skin prickled, legs unsteady from the abrupt change of emotions she’d gone through in the past few minutes.

“Down. There are safe places in the vaults, protected by magic and furnished to last as long as needed until the battle is over.”

“And we just wait it out?” At the bottom of the first staircase, the corridor twisted, revealing another leading even deeper down. The only light came from flickering crystals set into the stone walls.

“You do.”

She faltered as they reached another landing, another bend in the passage. “I do? What do you mean, I do?”

He paused, turning to her with wide, skittish eyes. “I cannot be with you. My place is facing Thanos—my skills are required. You must remain safe.” He cupped her face in his hands. “You’ll be with the queen and her guard. If the worst should happen, the throne will pass to her. She will be glad of your presence.”

Alex felt ridiculous for the panic welling in her. It made complete sense that he’d be fighting on the front lines against Thanos: he was the only one who’d faced him before, who knew what he was like. And yet, the outcome of his encounters had been disastrous. She remembered Loki’s mutilated form, bleeding out onto the Bifrost, and shivered against him. “You better not get yourself killed.”

He squeezed his eyes shut, suddenly pulling her tight against him. “I promise to return to you unscathed,” he whispered into her hair. She inhaled him: warm leather and clean linen, a scent laced through nearly every memory she had. All the months she’d spent pushing him away seemed foolish now, though if they both survived this she’d probably chide herself for overreacting. “And to ensure Thanos does not harm a hair on your head.”

The embrace could only last a moment, interrupted by the rumble of thunder overhead. “Is that..?”

“That is my brother, warming up.” He released her, reining his emotions in, his familiar stoic mask settling in place. They took to the stairs again. “There is a forcefield over Asgard which will hold for a long time, unless Thanos has new tricks to play.”

“You think he might.”

“I’ve learned never to underestimate an opponent.”

“You’re not in this alone, you know. You have Thor. And your father. I reckon he can handle himself in a fight.”

“Thor’s place is not here. He has to protect Idun’s orchards—though if it gets to that point, we are likely doomed anyway. But yes, I will fight by the Allfather’s side. I dare say between us we’re a formidable force.”

“You’re confident,” she said, realising it for the first time. Loki’s fear was not for himself. “You think we’ll win.”

“We are gods, Asta, and Thanos a mere abomination.” The chill of his smile almost made her fear for Thanos. Loki didn’t just want victory. He wanted revenge too, and given the chance he’d probably take it out of Thanos’ hide in like payment for what had been done to him.

She was breathless by the time they reached the end of the stairs, the ground beneath her feet mercifully flat but the passageways still gloomy and narrow. Loki seemed to know where he was going, never faltering when they reached a turning or a fork, but the claustrophobia began to weigh on Alex. The last time she’d been anywhere like this…well. She’d been accompanied by Fear itself. Only Loki’s hand in hers kept her anchored in the present. She wasn’t back in the labyrinth, no matter how much her mind wanted to convince her it was so.

Wouldn’t that have been something? If this was all a delirium she’d been suffering, lost in the remains of the place she lost her test, while Fear gorged on her.

Before she lost her grip on reality, the corridor widened and lightened as they turned onto a passage she knew.

“That’s the weapons vault,” she said, recognising the massive iron doors.

“Don’t worry,” he replied, his stride not slowing. “We go beyond it.” But then he frowned, head turning towards the doors, and she stumbled into the back of him when he halted.

“What is—” Loki’s hand covered her mouth, cutting her off.

“Shhh.” She was pressed against him, his chest to her back, and she caught a flicker of light from her peripheral vision. It flashed down the hallway and around the corner, while Loki kept them perfectly still. “Something is not right,” he whispered, breath fanning over the shell of her ear, and she shivered despite the circumstances. “I must investigate.”

Yet he didn’t move, not until she heard the echo of running footsteps. He tensed, arm tight around her waist, until a handful of guards rounded the corner. Not far behind them was the queen, backed up by another small troop, her pale dress shining against the gloom.

“Loki?” she questioned, “why have you summoned us?”

“Forgive me, mother. I would not call you from your haven if it was not urgent.” He nodded towards the doors. “I can sense something is amiss within, but even I would not be so foolhardy as to enter alone.”

The queen’s hands flew to her throat. “You think he has breached our defences so quickly?”

“I do not see how he could, and yet…I cannot shake this unease.”

One of the guards spoke. “Could it be an ambush?”

“All is quiet within,” Loki replied. “It is unlikely. If he’d penetrated our walls, he would use his advantage to attack the palace from the inside.”

“Very well,” Frigga said. “Ovarr, choose your best men to accompany the prince inside the vault. The rest will wait out here in case this is an invasion tactic.”

“You should retreat,” Loki said. “Back to the haven.”

“I can shield us all well enough,” the queen reprimanded him. “We need to be able to raise the alarm if we have intruders.”

Loki clamped his teeth together and nodded tersely, releasing Alex. She found herself with Frigga in a knot of the guards, while the rest swarmed forwards with Loki.

“Sometimes he forgets he is not the only member of this family capable of magic,” the queen murmured to Alex. Alex glanced at her in surprise: plenty of myths mentioned Frigga had some magical ability, but she’d never heard it mentioned or witnessed it here. Frigga didn’t speak again, focusing on the towering doors as Loki stalked towards them.

With every step he took, he shifted, his silhouette billowing out and darkening. It took Alex a moment to catch on to what was happening. His simple—for Asgard—clothing was being replaced, swapped for elaborate leather, padding and straps. Metal overlaid his forearms and shoulders, a green cape spilling down his back. She’d seen him like this before, in New York, but his armour had been tattered and tarnished then. Now it gleamed, the golden helm resting on his head most of all. In any other situation, on anyone other than Loki, it might have looked faintly ridiculous. He looked glorious, every inch the god, but not a merciful god. Heaven help anyone facing him like this.

Alex felt a pressure change in the air around her in the moment before the doors opened. The immense concentration on Frigga’s face told her this was the shield the queen had spoken of. It kept her from grabbing the queen’s hand for comfort.

Loki didn’t turn the handle manually, instead pressing his palm against the air so the door swung inward. She tensed—they all did—waiting for all hell to break loose, but only silence rolled out from the vault. Then a horrendous smell, like charred meat, that made her stomach heave.

She heard Loki curse and step over something inside the entrance to the vault, while the guards around him paused. The others craned their necks to peer around their colleagues, and Alex was suddenly very glad she was short enough they all blocked her view. Every one of these men seemed battle-hardened, yet more than one paled.

Beside her, Frigga swore fluently.

Loki was only gone from her sight for a minute, striding out of the vault, and even from this distance she could see the white of his lips, the wide set of his eyes. Frigga dropped the shield and rushed over to him, Alex following.

“The guards?” Frigga asked.

“All the men we set to guard the cube are dead,” he said. Alex had guessed as much from the awful stench. “Killed by an outburst of energy, though no living thing has entered the vault since we sealed it.”

“Then how..?”

He smiled, a slow unfurling of teeth that unnerved her. “By turning my own trick against me. In the same way he was able to use the sceptre to create a link to the cube from across the universe, he used the fake Tesseract I provided to create a path to the real thing. After all, both were created from its energy and remained part of it. He didn’t even need to set foot in the vault himself to make it work.”

The pieces clicked together in Alex’s mind. Here she stood, with only a few walls between her and the Tesseract, but she couldn’t feel it. No creeping skin, churning stomach or crippling headache; the effect of the bodies had masked it, but now she recognised the emptiness where the cube should be.

“It’s gone,” she said, finishing Loki’s report for him. “Thanos has the Tesseract.”

Chapter 35: The heat of battle

Notes:

I would recommend having 'I Have To Let You Go' by Nightwish playing while you read this chapter. It's part of a film score: epic and a little bit spooky, intense and atmospheric, and what I was listening to while I wrote. Just look it up on You Tube :).

The thunder continued to roll far overhead, but silence fell among those gathered outside the weapons vault as they considered the implications of what had just happened. All the planning, all the preparation, and Thanos had thwarted them without effort. If he could take the Tesseract so easily, what could he reduce Asgard to? Alex knew it was too much to hope he would take his army and leave now he had what he wanted; but Loki had failed him, betrayed him and escaped him. Loki would pay for that, and so would his home.

“How long do we have?” Frigga asked quietly, breaking the tense shroud of stillness.

“I cannot tell,” Loki answered, his voice and expression grim. “Hours—minutes, perhaps. He will have to construct a device to channel the Tesseract’s energy before he can pierce the shield. I must go.”

“Yes. Warn your father.”

“Wait in the vault,” he instructed. Alex opened her mouth to protest, but he silenced her with a glance, an unvoiced plea on his face. “The fallen guards have been removed and the cube itself is gone. It’s the safest place in the realm—the protections I built with the Allfather remain. If Thanos or any of his army try to enter, they will be annihilated. Please.”

“Just remember what you promised.”

“I will.” He caught her hand, pressing a kiss to the back of it. “Even with the Tesseract, Thanos will lose. I will not allow it any other way.”

“Be careful, my son,” Frigga murmured. She stepped forward to gather Loki in a quick embrace, and Loki’s eyes fluttered closed. Alex thought she saw the glitter of unshed tears as he pulled away.

“Inside,” he commanded, and they crossed to the iron doors, through the threshold into the central chamber of the vault. Alex felt nothing, no hint of the power protecting them, but then she didn’t have any magical abilities herself. As he’d said, the bodies were gone, and the remaining guards looked as thankful for it as she was. Loki waited beyond the doors, blocking the exit.

I love you. His mouth didn’t move—she heard the words only as an echo inside her head. With a final, lingering stare, he vanished.

---

Alex found waiting unbearable. Everything was so still and quiet down here, though occasionally a muffled blast of noise would filter down through all the rock above them, making her wince. They had no idea what was happening. Were the noises proof the battle had kicked off in earnest, or just more preparation?

She paced, until even Frigga’s tolerance grew thin—not that any of them had much patience tonight. The guards stiffly held their stations but they were all restless, some downcast. They’d lost comrades tonight. To keep from shredding anyone’s nerves, she explored the vault, desperately searching for something that would change their fortunes. It was a hopeless task, for two reasons. First, she doubted she’d recognise it even if she saw it. Nothing was labelled, and the oddly glittering blade on that pedestal looked deadly but might have been useless compared to the uninspiring, misshapen lump of rock one alcove over. Second, if there was anything of any use, Loki would have taken it with him.

In the end, she found herself in front of the Tesseract’s empty cradle. She thought, at first, that the prickle on her skin was a faint remainder of its power, a reminder it had been here not long before. But then she saw the sceptre below, the cyan glow at its core refusing to go out.

She ran back to the queen.

“We still have the sceptre,” she said, breathless. Frigga titled her head in curiosity, waiting for Alex to continue. “It’s linked to, and made from the Tesseract. Whoever has the sceptre can use it to get to the Tesseract, maybe even manipulate it from a distance. Just like Thanos did.”

“You believe Loki can do that?” the queen asked, rising from her seat.

“He’s used the sceptre before.”

“Then we must find him.”

One of the guards—the one Frigga had addressed as Ovarr—cleared his throat. “Your Majesty, my orders are to keep you safe.”

“Lurking down in these shadows will only keep us safe for so long. If Asgard loses, we will all perish, no matter how well we hide. It follows we must do everything we can to prevent that loss. Alexandra, please fetch the sceptre.”

They were still disagreeing when she returned. The metal of the staff was cold to the touch, and though there wasn’t the immediate nauseating buzz the Tesseract brought with it, it still thrummed in her hand. It amplified the rattle of panic inside her and the worried voices in her head, whispering about how badly this was going to end, but she could ignore that if she focused on her purpose. Time would tell if it got any worse than that.

“One of us could take the sceptre to the Allfather,” Ovarr offered.

“Which would leave you tainted by the cube’s touch. It’s something we cannot risk, not in a battle of this magnitude. Besides, this must be delivered to Loki’s hands, and I know many of you still distrust the prince. Any delay could cost us everything.”

“I understand, Your Majesty, but—”

“You will, of course, accompany us.” She held her hand out to Alex, lifting her skirts with the other. “We must take the quickest route to the Bifrost, and I expect there to be great danger along the way.”

She said it so casually, as if she faced danger on every walk she took. She was unarmed, as far as Alex could tell, but she held her chin high, offering no more room for argument. Ovarr bit his tongue, bowed low, and opened the vault doors for them to exit through.

The return journey to the surface was as claustrophobic as the one down, even though they took a different route. It was made worse by the way the guards clustered around Alex and the queen, making it feel like there was even less space than before, and without Loki there was no one to grip, to keep her anchored. The eerie blue glow from the sceptre leeched all warmth from her surroundings. She wished she had a glove to wear, or someone to deliver it in her place. Frigga had been right, though—if even the tenuous link the sceptre could create had twisted Loki’s mind so badly, what would that link do a terrified man in the middle of a battle? At least she had the mild immunity of her past connection to the—much stronger—original source.

The higher they climbed, the louder the cacophony grew. The rumbling around them wasn’t thunder. It shook the stones of the passageway, and was occasionally punctuated by the screech of twisting metal or the roar of an explosion. A battle was definitely underway. Any bravery Alex might have felt down below, any eagerness to get above ground again, ebbed away. She wasn’t a warrior; she was barely a competent adult. Hiding away below the palace until Loki could come rescue her seemed like a brilliant idea.

The queen had a brief, whispered conversation with Ovarr when they reached a fork in the passageway. Instead of climbing any more stairs, they turned left, staying on one level though the floor of the passage sloped up. She’d walked so much already she was succumbing to exhaustion, stumbling a few times to be righted by a guard. How long had passed since she’d sat with Loki in the gardens? Long enough that it was probably past the time she usually went to bed at. She couldn’t rest, though, not until Loki had the sceptre.

Eventually they halted, the passage ended in a crude, rusting iron door. Alex didn’t want to find out what lay on the other side of it. Screams and yelling filtered through, the clash of metal. Sword on sword, or sword on plate armour, like the soundtrack to every frenzied movie battle she’d ever witnessed. Frigga gathered Alex to her, the guards clustering around them again, only Ovarr left outside the group. He drew his sword with one hand, and lifted a key from his belt with the other.

“May the Norns guide you right,” Frigga said to him, and Alex felt the air pressure change again, the shield rising around them.

Ovarr gave her a solemn bow, then unlocked the door, pulling back the bolts holding it in place. They weren’t rusted at all, but recently oiled. Alex held her breath as he inched the door open, an explosion of noise invading from the world outside.

There was little to see, at first, in the gloom of the night. It was misty, too—but then she realised that it wasn’t mist. Smoke. Fire raged somewhere, the flickering light indicating it could be several fires. The door opened not inside the palace, but at the very end of the boulevard leading to it, with the Bifrost unfurling before them. Usually on a night like this, its kaleidoscopic colours would shimmer, strobing brightly. Instead, it too was shrouded in smoke, and in that smoke danced countless figures: some in shining armour, others with grey, scaly skin. Some lay still on the surface of the bridge.

A shadow passed through the sky, turning her attention upwards. It was one of the worm-like leviathans she’d seen in New York. There were at least three visible from even this slim viewpoint. Beyond that, the sky glittered. It took a moment for her eyes to focus—a web of light criss-crossed the sky, tiny points of pulsing cyan like someone had taken a fisherman’s net from the ocean and tossed it amongst the stars. It had to be the forcefield. Behind it, ships waited, dark hulking shapes blotting out the universe beyond.

The net wasn’t intact; she could see small tears in it. These were the places the leviathans had made their way through. Even now, a beam of cerulean energy was fixed on one point of the web. Thanos was using the Tesseract to burn holes in the forcefield, which was why it was lit up as it was. Eventually he’d make enough damage to rip it apart completely.

Frigga grabbed her hand, squeezing tightly. Alex glanced at her. The queen stared upwards too, enraptured, raw dismay anointing her features. Then movement from the corner of her eye redirected Alex’s attention. A winged shape crossed the sky—much smaller than the leviathans, and quicker too. Another joined it, darting through the air, restlessly scouring the battle below. When one flew into a smoke-free patch of air, she caught sight of a slim figure and long hair. A woman.

“What are they?” she asked.

Frigga followed her gaze. “They are the Valkyries. They do not usually fight directly—instead they seek out the wounded enemy and deliver them into death.” To demonstrate Frigga’s ambiguous words, one of the women swooped down on the twitching figure of one of the Chitauri, prone on the ground. Her blade scythed through the air and cut its head clean off. “Ovarr, now is the time.”

He nodded and stepped out, no hint of fear to be found in him. The door swung shut behind him, cutting off her view, and the other guards hurried to re-bolt it.

“Where has he gone?”

“He’s enlisting the assistance of the Valkyries to find Loki. It would be preferable for Loki to come to us, rather than for us to try and seek him in the chaos out there.”

“I suppose it’s easier to search from the air,” Alex replied.

“Indeed.”

Minutes ticked by, and Alex couldn’t decide if she wanted to be able to see what was happening or not. What was outside was terrible to witness, but the next time the door opened, Thanos could have tipped the battle entirely in his favour. Was not knowing worse? Finding out this was a Fear-induced hallucination would be preferable to all this being real. Frigga hadn’t let go of her hand, and she was thankful for it.

The air pressure changed and the guards tensed, drawing swords. The shadows around them shifted, and Alex caught a glimpse of feathers.

“My queen,” came a woman’s voice.

“At ease,” Frigga commanded, and the guards stepped away, allowing Frigga to the front. Kneeling before the door were three of the winged women, heads bowed to the queen.

All three had dark hair, caught back in braids that were twined with thorns. Their skin was deathly pale and they wore no armour over their tattered clothing, their wings pools of blackness in the already dark passageway. When one of the Valkyries glanced up, Alex saw a sweet, young face, though her fierce eyes made it clear she was not as she appeared.

“Where is Ovarr?” Frigga asked. “Where is the prince?”

“Ovarr has fallen,” said the central Valkyrie. Frigga let out a soft gasp, taking Alex’s hand again. “And we cannot find the prince, or the Allfather. We fear they are on the other side of the forcefield.”

Frigga was silent for a moment, and Alex thought she was crying, but when she spoke again, her voice was empty of even the slightest quaver. “It would make sense they’d move to secure the Tesseract again. How many of you have come to our aid?”

“All of us.” The woman who’d spoken looked as young as her companion. They were similar enough that they could have been sisters; all that time in the library, and Alex had completely skimmed over the information about the Valkyries.

“All of you? I am touched, and thankful, as all of Asgard will be.”

“It is our honour.”

“Then I have three tasks for you. First, retrieve Ovarr’s body and take him somewhere he cannot be dishonoured.”

“We have arranged for it to be so, Your Majesty.”

“Second, someone must go bring the prince and the Allfather back to this side of the forcefield. We may have a way of reinforcing it, and it would be no good for them to be trapped on the other side. We have great need of Loki. Finally, you must take Alex to the end of the Bifrost to wait for the prince to return, and protect her until he does.”

It was only through tremendous force of will that Alex didn’t allow her knees to give way beneath her. These fierce girls might be happy out there in the chaos—and they really did have a joyful glow about them—but she wouldn’t thrive on it.

“It shall be done,” the Valkyrie replied, and they all rose, the tops of their wings brushing the ceiling.

“I warn you, Brunhilda,” said Frigga, “she is Loki’s intended. Any harm that comes to her will be returned upon your flesh—and mine.”

Brunhilda unleashed an unsettling smile that rivalled any of Loki’s. It seemed to say challenge accepted, but in reality her words were far more deferent. “We would protect her from the Allfather himself.”

Another of the Valkyries opened the door, letting a little of that chaos spill back inside. Alex felt herself being guided out of the sanctuary into the veil of smoke outside, only the cold weight of the sceptre in her hand keeping her tethered to reality. Frigga gave her one last solemn nod before the door closed between them, and strong arms wrapped around Alex’s waist.

“It’d be best if you closed your eyes,” said Brunhilda in her ear. “It’ll be easier on your belly that way.”

Alex wanted to ask what she meant, but the Valkyrie pushed away from the ground. Before Alex’s brain had caught up with her vision, they were six feet in the air and climbing. She did as she was told and shut her eyes.

She’d been right when she decided that riding a horse should be as close as she got to flying. Even when she couldn’t see what was happening, the knowledge that Brunhilda’s grip was all that kept her from becoming a broken smudge upon the ground made the contents of her stomach desperate to escape. It didn’t matter how strong Brunhilda felt, there were leviathans in the sky and Chitauri on those glider things, so even the air wasn’t safe, not really. She could hear the beating of wings out of rhythm with Brunhilda’s, happy whooping, and knew more Valkyries were nearby. But what good would a handful of these women be against the plate-metal skin and enormous jaws of a leviathan?

The whole thing was over blissfully soon, though she didn’t want to open her eyes when she was set down on her feet. Things seemed quieter here, and when she did look, she could see the fighting was taking place much further down the bridge. Winged figures corralled the battle, keeping it from spreading any closer. Here, at the end, there was only her, the three Valkyries she’d already met, and an imposing man in head-to-toe gold. Even the sword he gripped in front of him was pure gold.

“Heimdall,” Brunhilda greeted. “How fare you?”

“Well,” he replied, without emotion. Alex couldn’t tell if he was being sarcastic or genuine.

Behind them, the jagged edges of the bridge gave way to a dizzying void, covered in the same net Alex had seen in the sky. She glanced up to where Thanos’ ships still lurked, and saw even more rips had been created. The beam of cerulean light burned even brighter, and the net had faded, weakening at the central point Thanos was attacking.

“It’s not going to hold long,” she said. “Can you see Loki?”

“He is this side of the forcefield,” Heimdall replied. “As is the Allfather. Beyond that, I cannot see.” If the Valkyries had only just brought them across, they would be too far away for anyone to see in all this darkness and smoke.

The net flickered, the lights going out completely for a second. All the Valkyries cursed, even as it stuttered back to life, and Alex heart stuttered along with it.

“We cannot wait for the prince,” said Heimdall.

“What would you have us do, guardian?” Brunhilda yelled. “We have no magic.”

But Alex didn’t need telling twice. If Loki wasn’t here to use the sceptre to manipulate the Tesseract, then the only other person who had that connection needed to. Never mind that she’d never used magic before. If it had never really broken the link with her mind, she just needed to find the pathway it travelled on, and the sceptre would help her do that.

Hot pain lanced across her hand as she drew the blade over her palm, the Valkyries crying out as they saw the blood welling from the cut. “It’s okay,” she told them. “It needs blood to work.” She thought so, anyway; it had last time.

She slid her wounded palm down to the central section of the staff, where the ball of energy pulsed, and wrapped her fingers around it. The sudden coil of pain through her mind and down her spine took her to her knees, but she refused to let go. Needles of the cube’s power sunk into her, stitching itself into her skin, and she expected blood to well from the punctures, but her free hand was unmarred. The connection was there again, the cube an oily presence inside her, and it was as eager as she was for this to work.

She focused on the beam of light that pointed at the forcefield, tracking it backwards until she could feel the cube, wrapped in a device that directed its power. She let the power flare, melting the cradle. The beam cut out.

The Valkyries cheered around her, but it wasn’t enough. The forcefield was so weak Thanos could march his army through anyway, yet she’d used all her effort in that one act. She needed a better connection.

In her hand she crushed the glass casing, shards slicing into her fingers as the Tesseract’s essence burned its way inside. And heavens, how it burned. Her skin was one raw wound, and the longer she held on the further the cube wormed inside her, blistering everything within. She must look like a candle, alight on the edge of the Bifrost. Not that she could see anymore. Behind her eyes, only blue. Sounds came as if from deep underwater, even her own screams.

She would not succumb. Not until she’d done what she needed to.

She gripped the link, digging into the heart of the Tesseract and pulling all that energy out towards the net. She let the cube guide her work, fixing rips and tears, strengthening the rest of it. The Tesseract kept coming, all the power trapped inside it pouring out along the link, and when the forcefield was as good as it was going to get, she pulled the power back into a tight knot, focused on Thanos’ mothership.

With a gust of breath, she pushed it outwards.

She knew the armada exploded because she felt the Tesseract caught in the centre of it. Everything on this side of the forcefield was shielded, everything on the other side had been blasted apart and reduced to ashes. Even the cube itself succumbed to her will, melting into nothing, but the link would not sever. Still the energy kept cascading down, just as it had when she held it in her hands the first time. It refused to perish, seeking her like she was the Tesseract itself and it was returning home.

There was so much more of it than she’d needed to cause that explosion. Desperately, she reached out to use it up, blind eyes not seeing but the cube’s own unearthly senses doing the work. She incinerated what the explosion hadn’t already destroyed, then pulled back behind the forcefield to focus on Asgard itself.

She quenched the fires burning in the city and ripped apart the leviathans until they were little more than atoms. Then there was nowhere else for the energy to go but here, on the torn edge of the Bifrost, following the path the bridge had formed for millenia, repairing its fractured form.

Just as she’d known when she held the cube in her hand on the top of Stark Tower, all this power would kill her. But this time, there was nothing to let go of, no cube to return the power to. She’d flung what she could at where it was needed, but the energy needed a vessel, and by dint of the connection, she was going to be it. Her heart thundered in her ears, masking the panicked screams of the Valkyries, and her body blazed. All she could do was wait to burn.

Notes:

*runs and hides*

Chapter 36: Life

“Alexandra?” The voice came from miles away. “Can you hear me?” It echoed inside her head, oddly metallic and flat. She recognised it, but through the pain, she couldn’t place it.

Yes, she thought, all control over her own voice long since burned away.

“Then you must focus, and you must listen.” A man’s voice; imperious. That meant something, but she didn’t know what. “I can help you, but it is your choice to make.” She knew the voice now. Odin. It was stronger, even if it still sounded like it was coming through a badly tuned radio. Behind his voice lurked another. She couldn’t hear the words it said, just feel the fear and panic leaking through.

What choice?

“Life or death. You can let go, and the end will be painless.”

The other voice came through clearer. “No! She cannot—”

“Or you can choose life. It will not be a mortal life. That way will be closed to you forever.”

Death without ever having truly lived seemed no choice at all.

Life.

“As you wish.”

The burning altered, cooling down, though the cold hurt as much as the heat. The Tesseract’s energy didn’t lift, but instead burrowed deeper, a knot of frozen fire in the pit of her belly. She took it, and took it, and took it, drinking it down, wondering if she was going to die after all. The power spread to every cell, a cold blue light she was going to drown in.

“Changing. Not dying,” Odin said, but it didn’t make the agony any easier to bear. She wanted to keep hiding inside herself, sheltering in her head away from the torment wracking her body. Things had been better when her senses were broken, but now they were repairing themselves, turning the volume back up on the pain. She could hear herself screaming again, and others screaming around her, the protesting voice yelling, “No, no, no!” It was hard to focus on who and what, though, when it seemed as if every nerve had been skewered with a needle.

The power changed again, warming, and she became aware of her heartbeat thundering in her ears. The knot of power pulsed in time with it, and there didn’t seem to be any more flowing into it. When she reached out, instinctively, for the link she found only empty air. Her nerves numbed, her lungs painfully full as she began to breath again. Her heart refused to slow, blocking out all sound except the booming thud thud thud of her pulse. The blue behind her eyes faded to splotchy grey.

Then, mercifully, all became black.

---

Someone was sobbing, and Alex was fairly certain it wasn’t her.

She was lying on her back on a hard, glassy surface, and she’d have moved to get more comfortable if every single fibre of her being didn’t ache so badly. All she could manage was a flutter of her eyelids.

Black sky above. Fingers curled around her own. Odin’s grave face. She was sure he was not the one holding her hand.

“Asta…” came a whisper, choked by tears. She should recognise that voice, she really should. It was the one who’d been so adamant against her choosing death. It took a second attempt at opening her eyes before she could put a name to the voice, and to the other crying figure. Loki and Frigga. They and Odin knelt by her side, while Thor watched over from a short distance away. They were all ringed by the Valkyries—dozens of them now—kneeling with their heads bowed in her direction.

She lay on the Bifrost, dimly aware of how empty the sky was compared to when she’d taken control of the Tesseract. How quiet it all was—the frenzy of the battle had been replaced with a smoky hush. She wished to sit up, to explore how else the world had changed, but that was beyond her capabilities for now.

“You have done a great thing,” Odin said. “You have saved us all.”

“She did a stupid thing,” Loki spat. “A foolish thing, and you should never have allowed her to.” He leaned over, his face filling her vision. “I told you to never put yourself in harm’s way, and what did you do?” She flinched away from his anger. Hands found his shoulders, trying to pull him back back, but he wouldn’t be moved. “Were you still so eager to escape me that you’d risk your life?”

“No.” The word took all her concentration to say, and her throat protested, still raw. “Chose life.”

His anger folded in on itself, just like it had that day in the meadows, and she could taste the salt of his tears where they dripped onto her skin.

“She needs to rest, Loki,” Frigga murmured, covering their entwined hands with her own. He made no indication he was going to move until Thor came over to crouch beside Alex, readying to lift her.

“I’ll do it,” he snarled, sliding his arms beneath her, cradling her against his body. He lifted her and the Valkyries rose too, the sentries of death following as an honour guard.

She let her eyes drift shut and her head rest against his chest, her skin oversensitive but thankful for the warmth he offered. She faded out again before he’d taken two steps.

Notes:

Short but swe...um, yeah.

Chapter 37: Soft

“You! Get out of there!”

Soft. That was the first thing she registered. The world was soft and warm, and the shrill woman was ruining it.

“I am a prince of Asgard and I will not be spoken to with such insolence.” Loki. He was part of that warmth, even his sleepy, sulky words curling into her ear as hot breath blew over her neck.

“Really. Perhaps the Allfather will command you in the tone you prefer.”

“By all means, send for him.”

“She is under my care and needs to be given peace to recuperate—”

“No one will ensure she receives more care than me. Go, woman. Fetch the Allfather if you must. I care not, I will not be moved.”

The fast click of heels on stone announced the woman’s retreat and Loki’s grip on her tightened. She could feel him now, the line of his body pressed against her side where he lay beside her, one arm draped over her waist. “I know you’re awake,” he whispered, and once again his words fanned over her skin. “But if you need more rest, you shall have it.”

She forced her eyes open, greeted at first only with a blank ceiling, but he was there in her peripheral vision, his head beside hers on the pillow. She recognised the room from what she could see of it: the same room where Loki had been taken when he needed healing. So the woman had been Eir. “I’m not tired.” And it was the truth. Nor did she ache anywhere, which was suspicious considering she’d been roasted from the inside the last time she was conscious. “How long have I been out?”

“A day.” She turned her head to look at him properly. He lacked any injuries that she could see, beyond circles under his eyes. Peace radiated from his face, an expression she hadn’t expected and couldn’t ever remember him wearing. So different from the frenzied grief he’d worn on the Bifrost.

“And you’re in here with me because? You wanted to wind Eir up?”

His lips twitched. “No. I wanted to be close to make sure you healed. The chair seemed so far away…” A haunted shadow passed behind his eyes, despite the teasing nature of his words. She knew what he wasn’t saying: he hadn’t wanted to be separated from her, not after everything that had happened.

“What have I missed?”

He took her hand, his thumb making soft circles on her palm. “I only know what Thor and my mother have come to tell me. There has been much feasting, in celebration of our victory and remembrance of the dead. Your name is being sung in praise.” He looked proud but the haunted sorrow still underpinned it, while she blushed.

“Are there many dead?” she asked.

“There are enough, though they are mainly willing warriors, rather than civilians.”

“Warriors or not, they’re still dead,” she chided.

“But more are not, thanks to your heroism.” He stroked her hair, his forehead creasing into a slight frown.

“I wasn’t doing it to be a hero. I did it because I had to—you were nowhere to be found and no one else could help.”

“I know. I understand. I don’t like it, but I understand. Though you should be aware that had you died in the attempt, even the veil of death could not have saved Thanos from my wrath.”

“I thought we had this conversation. If anything were to happen to me, you stayed on the straight and narrow, remember?”

“My apologies. I was too distracted by what happened at the end of the conversation to remember the words we exchanged.”

“The sirens?”

“No. The kiss.” His irises had contracted to a thin band of darkened jade, his voice a low rasp.

“Oh.” It was so long since she’d woken in his arms like this. She had a sense memory of his lips upon hers from the night before the sirens sounded, and heat flared in her blood. She glanced away.

He gave her a wicked grin. “Don’t fret, even I would not push Eir so far as to try and slake my lust here.” That didn’t stop him placing a chaste but lingering kiss on her jaw, just above her traitorous, thundering pulse.

“I am glad to hear it,” said Eir from the doorway. Loki made an annoyed noise in his throat at her interruption and glanced over his shoulder, freezing when he saw who was with her.

Odin looked as weary as Alex had ever seen him, though he seemed more relaxed as well. No doubt the fact the realm wasn’t under threat of invasion anymore helped with that, even if he still had to rebuild whatever had been destroyed. He nodded in greeting and crossed to the empty chair by her bedside.

“Allfather,” Loki greeted stiffly. He appeared astonished that Odin had come at all, though the king didn’t move to admonish him for his position. Nevertheless, he slipped out of the bed, ignoring Eir’s narrow stare. He stood beside the seat Odin had taken. Alex tried to sit upright, wondering just how knotted her hair was.

“I am pleased you have awoken, Alexandra. It was difficult to gauge how much time you would require to recuperate.”

“I feel fine.” She stopped, gauging the state of her body again. “Better than fine, actually.” Now the fog of sleep had completely dissipated, she thrummed with energy, like she’d already drunk a day’s worth of coffee, without the jittery side effects.

“In this one thing, we can thank the Tesseract. It’s destructive powers also healed you.” He turned to Loki. “I would ask that you allow me some time to talk to Alexandra.”

“No,” Loki said without pause for consideration.

“Some things are for her ears alone. If she chooses to share them, that is her decision, but you have no right to this knowledge, Loki.”

The clench of his jaw said Loki believed otherwise. “Please,” said Alex, “you don’t have to go far.” She reached out to take his hand.

“Very well,” he said, staring down at their hands, pressing a quick kiss to hers before letting go.

When they were alone, Odin seemed to weigh his words before speaking. “What do you remember?” he eventually asked.

“All of it. Sadly.” If she shut her eyes, the memories of being caught in the burning flow of energy intense enough for her toes to curl in anticipation of the pain.

“Then you remember the choice you were offered.”

“I do.”

“You are immortal—it is an irreversible side effect of the Tesseract’s bond with you. You will not rely on the apples to prevent aging as we all do. You will not change at all.”

“I’m going to save a lot of money on face cream,” she said, though she didn’t really feel the humour. Immortality. There was no going back now, no matter how she felt about it.

“You can still sleep and eat, though you will need neither rest or nourishment. You are immune to disease, and while you could theoretically be killed by dismemberment, your ability to heal yourself means it is unlikely anyone would be able to complete such an act.” She winced. The universe had better hope eternity didn’t send her loopy. “Both the Tesseract and sceptre have been destroyed, but the power they contain live on in you. It sustains your life, accessible to no one else. In time you may learn to manipulate it, if you wish.”

“I don’t wish.”

“A wise choice.”

His features softened. “The realm has much to owe you. You saved many lives, as well as repairing the Bifrost. That, at least, means you will be free to travel between the realms as often as you wish. You’ve also made quite an impression on the Valkyries. It’s been a long time since they’ve witnessed anyone commit an act of such brave self-sacrifice. The fact that you are neither a warrior or a sorcerer has them calling for you to be given a formal goddess title.”

She almost winced again. “I appreciate it, but I’d rather not. I don’t want to attract trouble and calling myself a goddess is probably the wrong way to go about it.”

He smiled. “Loki is lucky to have you. We all are.” And he seemed to mean it. Then he turned solemn again. “There is one more issue to discuss, a fundamental change wrought by the Tesseract. It relates to your unchanging status, and procreation.”

“No,” she interrupted. “Please don’t say it.” He opened his mouth to protest. “I can guess where you’re going, and it’s easier if I don’t hear it. Ignorance is bliss.” She had enough to wrap her head around, without taking on board painful issues like that as well. She had forever to face up to and deal with it later.

“As you wish.” Odin rose. “I expect my son will be eager to return to your side.”

“I do have one more question. The agreement we had, where he couldn’t lie to me anymore. Does that still stand?”

“No. The terms of the bargain have been completed. The war is over, and I believe it is very clear you have made your decision. Therefore Loki is released from his side of the contract.”

“Hmm.” But Loki was back before she could muse on the implications of that.

---

Though Odin proclaimed she needed no more rest, Eir was unwilling to let her patient go, so Alex’s stay on the healing ward was prolonged for a few more days.

Loki refused to be budged from her side, leaving only when she insisted he did so she could bathe. He even curled himself around her in sleep, despite Eir’s continued annoyance. He was called away a few times to meet with Odin but returned as soon as he could, traces of his petulant side creeping out every time. All he would tell her was it was court business and not worth time away from her.

He returned the favour she’d once bestowed upon him, fetching books from the library to read to her, which was pleasant even though it made her feel like an invalid. They bickered constantly about her being out of bed, and he insisted on helping her walk everywhere even though she was perfectly capable of moving around on her own. She felt better than she had in months. He, on the other hand, was not as relaxed as he seemed. When she joked he was using the opportunity to cop a feel as he escorted her to the window, hand on her hip, he scowled rather than pouncing on the chance to flirt. He was not taking her near-death experience lightly.

Alex’s visitors were astonished by the way Loki reacted around her. He was being affectionate in a way she’d never experienced before—constant kisses on her cheek or forehead, his hands forever seeking to smooth her hair or twine with her own hands. Nor did he reign in the affection when there were witnesses, leaving Thor and Frigga openly gobsmacked. Even Sif felt the need to comment on it, when Loki had left after another summoning from Odin.

“I never expected such tenderness from one with such a black heart.”

“Hey! That’s my…” Alex groped for the right word. Boyfriend? Fiance? Partner? None seemed to quite fit, especially given how undefined their current status was. “…my man you’re talking about.”

“And on behalf of all unwed women, I thank you for claiming him.” But Sif was teasing, a rare thing, particularly when it came to Loki.

She was the first to really describe what happened during the battle, when Alex had parted ways with reality.

“I was there when the Allfather realised Thanos had the Tesseract—the sky was suddenly lit with false stars, and I was convinced from Loki’s expression it meant we were all doomed. He dispatched one of the Valkyries to bring Thor back to our position, and we were tasked with bringing down the leviathans however we could. I took one of them out myself, with some elevation from Rota.” Sif smiled in pride. From other conversations, Alex had figured out Rota was one of the Valkyries. Sif seemed to be friendly with a few of them.

“What did Loki do?”

“The Allfather asked him to stay and fight with us on the Bifrost, but Loki insisted he’d be the best one to track the Tesseract’s location. They went to confront Thanos together. One of the Valkyries called them back to our side of the forcefield before they could reach him, and not a moment too soon, because you burned Thanos’ armada out of the sky as soon as they crossed it. The Chitauri collapsed around us, and even the leviathans crumbled into nothing. It took us a little time to understand what was happening, until the Valkyries called our attention to the end of the bridge.” She paused, her gaze falling into the a far-off memory. “It was a terrible thing,” she said. “You looked like the blue heart of a flame. Loki ran straight to your side but we had to keep him away or he’d perish too. If I ever doubted how deeply he cares for you, I was proved wrong.”

“So he finally has your approval?”

Sif made a noncommittal noise. “Love does not make men virtuous, no matter the strength of their affection. It is unlikely that Loki will turn his back on his trickery forever.”

“I know. The best I can ask of him is to not actively kill people or try to enslave an entire realm. The rest, I will deal with.”

“But you don’t have to deal with it alone. I am here, as is Thor. We would not see you carry that burden alone. For what you did for Asgard, you have my eternal allegiance.”

Alex found herself looking towards the window to hide the sudden tears in her eyes. She was touched by Sif’s sentiment, not least because she knew the ‘eternal’ part wasn’t hyperbole. “Thank you.”

“And here he comes now,” Sif said with a roll of her eyes. Footsteps carried along the corridor outside the room. “Unable to leave you in peace for very long. I shall take my leave, but if you ever need that peace, do not hesitate to seek me out.”

She rose just as Loki entered the room, scowling at her. He crossed wordlessly to Alex’s side again and Sif gave him a stern but not entirely unfriendly look on her way out. Perhaps there were bridges to be built there.

---

Alex’s next visitor was Brunhilda, who was no less unnerving with her wings folded behind her body and the blood of battle washed away. She, like Sif, offered Alex allegiance, but this time it was on behalf of all the Valkyries. Since Alex didn’t have the same relationship with them as she’d built with Sif, she hastily thanked Brunhilda, but repeated what she’d said to Odin about not being a hero. Brunhilda seemed to take this as further evidence of Alex’s heroic status, and offered her the sanctuary of the Valkyries’ hall if she ever needed it. Sif wasn’t the only one who remained uneasy about Loki.

The Valkyrie, as it turned out, wasn’t as scary as she first appeared, and repeated some aspects of the battle she’d seen from the air with a surprising amount of sharp humour. She had Alex laughing so hard Eir came in to chide them both. Alex wasn’t the only person on the healing ward in the wake of all that had happened, even if she’d sustained the most dramatic injuries.

In Brunhilda’s wake, Alex finally got a few moments of peace, and the chance to think. It was amazing, after feeling so lonely for so long, how she now felt surrounded by people who cared. A few months ago and she couldn’t have named a single friend, but now there were people around her she could call by that title. Sif, definitely. Despite her warrior woman reputation, she was as well versed in literature as any of the royal household, and fascinated with Earth. Thor too, for the way he’d taken care of her when they arrived on Asgard, despite the pressing needs of the realm. Brunhilda had potential—she was hard to dislike. And Frigga had never been less than welcoming.

All in all, if things ever went sour with Loki—and there was a real possibility with the stretch of time ahead of them that there would be periods where she wouldn’t want to be around him—she had people to turn to.

Having so many people awestruck at what she’d done, and her happy bubble at realising how many people cared about her, were probably to blame for how things went the next time she saw Odin.

When Loki’s back was turned, and Eir was equally distracted, she’d made a jail break for the quiet of the library. If she had such a long future ahead of her, she needed to know where to begin filling it, and this was helping her flesh out the beginnings of an idea. That was where Odin found her; she was sat at the same table she’d been at the last time he came looking for her.

“Loki is refusing to travel to Jotunheim,” he said, without greeting or preamble.

Alex vaguely remembered Loki telling her that Odin wanted him to do that when the war was over. “Did he say why?”

“He will not leave you and he is certain you won’t go with him.”

“And you want me to talk to him.”

Odin nodded and stepped away, as if he considered the matter completed. He had a problem with Loki, and he’d transferred the responsibility for that problem to her. She saw then exactly how he intended for things to work in the future: any issue he had with Loki would become hers to solve.

“I can’t control him, you know. And more importantly, I won’t.”

“I see.”

Something about his expression reminded her of the day he’d sat opposite her in here, before leading her down to the weapons vault. She stared at him, wondering if he’d planned it all along. How else had he known how to keep her tethered to life? She’d fleetingly considered it before, in her quiet moments on the healing ward, ever since Sif mentioned Odin wanting Loki to stay on the Bifrost rather than face Thanos. In the very place she would search for him to hand over the sceptre. And if he wasn’t there…well, if she knew about the link between them all, she’d be a suitable substitute.

“You made sure I knew about the connection between the sceptre and the Tesseract,” she said. “And you tested my link to the Tesseract.”

Sadly for her, Odin had the best poker face in the universe. Not even the abrupt change of topic threw him. “You needed to know. Thanos did, and he would have sought to manipulate you.”

“You knew he’d get hold of the Tesseract and we’d have to stop him with the sceptre.”

“It is wise never to underestimate an enemy, and to ensure every eventuality is considered.” She knew that was as close to confirmation as she was ever going to get.

“If Loki ever find out you manipulated me into putting myself at risk, he’d burn Asgard himself.”

Odin’s expression became wary but he didn’t respond.

“But I didn’t go through hell to protect Asgard just for him to undo it in a temper tantrum. For the record, I won’t be spending eternity acting as Loki’s keeper, if that was your intention. I owe you no debt. You’re his father, and every misguided action he takes is your responsibility.” It was strange how knowing she couldn’t die made her so much less afraid of the king. He needed to hear this truth. She’d made the choice she’d spent so long fighting against, but she’d be damned if Odin tried to make her bear the burden of Loki’s faults.

“I am aware decisions I have made in the past have had repercussions for us all. I intend to rectify that now we have the luxury of time to do so.”

“Good. Without me, you wouldn’t have that chance at all.” If she was going to be part of the family for the long haul, she should at least try to repair the more dysfunctional parts of their relationships. “I will help you where I can, but you need to earn his trust again or things will never be right.”

For a moment she wondered if she’d gone too far. His nostrils flared and his one eye narrowed while she tried not to shrink into her seat, out of force of habit more than anything. He might not be able to kill her but banishment was a definite option.

“Contrary to what many believe, Loki included, I love my son,” Odin said. “But I do not always understand him. He needs to repair the damage he has wrought on two realms—only then will he begin to learn the consequences of his actions.”

“If the two realms are Earth and Jotunheim, then allow him to start with Earth. Give me that, and I’ll do what I can to talk him into Jotunheim. It’s not just another realm to him, it’s a seriously messed up part of his identity. You can’t just expect him to stare that in the face with no preparation.”

Odin considered her words for a long, tense minute. “Very well. I will contemplate the benefits of sending him to Midgard first.” He turned to walk away again. “I appreciate your candour, Alexandra. Few have been so honest with me in an age. I know you have been burdened with a life you did not want and a partner who will not make that life easy, but I have faith you will save us all in more ways than you already have.”

She was thankful for his parting words, because otherwise she’d have been convinced she’d made an enemy of the most powerful man in the universe.

---

When Eir finally agreed to her release, there was a startled moment where Alex realised she no longer had a buffer against Loki. Who, for his part, had made the assumption she was moving into his chambers, rather than returning to her own.

Not that she had any reason to return to them. Her panic came from Loki’s belief they were back to the status they’d had before she came to Asgard to be tested: engaged. There was still too much to sort out before she even considered marriage, but even in his current affectionate state there didn’t seem to be a way to let him down gently.

He had already prised most of the details about her transformation out of her, and guessed what she wouldn’t share. Even the implication that they wouldn’t be having children—and he’d always hinted he wanted a family—didn’t surprise him, but neither did he seem to think it an insurmountable obstacle. She’d discovered the hard way that what Loki wanted, Loki got, and one day maybe he’d find a way to make that happen too.

He was still helping her walk when she left the ward, despite her not needing the assistance, but she knew by now he just wanted the excuse to hold her. Refreshingly, his actions were motivated by more than lust. Meanwhile, she scrabbled for something to talk about that wasn’t the potential disaster trigger of her telling him not to let Frigga start planning a wedding.

The future. If they were going to talk about anything, it should be the future.

“Is there any reason why a digital camera wouldn’t work here?” she asked.

“Why would there be?”

“I’m just wondering if magic would interfere. Sorry, I’m thinking of a book I once read where electronics wouldn’t work around magic. But if that’s not the case, I could bring a camera here.”

“You could. You wish to show the wonders of Asgard to the people of Midgard?”

“Not quite. We talked about travelling the universe, before, remember?”

“I do. Do you still wish to do so?”

“Yes. And I realised the library here only has drawings of other realms. You’re a bit behind on our technology when it comes to that. I could take photos of the places we visit and add them to the archive.”

He seemed to glow at the suggestion. “I have work to do to atone for my actions, but nothing would please me more than resuming our exploration of the realms. It will be especially easy now the Bifrost is repaired.”

“You’re welcome. And while you’re atoning, I can go home and spend time with my family.”

“Will you capture electronic memories of them too?” he asked quietly.

“Probably. I need to make the most of the time I will have with them, but one day all I will have are memories, and it would nice to have something more concrete than images in my head.”

Another thought struck her, of walks to and from the healing ward when Loki was the patient.

“Answer me honestly. Why did you take such a long time to heal when you returned to Asgard? I know your injuries were bad, but they lingered for weeks.”

“You’re worried I was using my energy for something else.” He didn’t seem offended—in fact, his mouth twisted up in amusement. “Some nefarious scheme, as is my habit?”

“Yes.”

“I’m pleased to respond that it was nothing of the sort. I was merely deliberately slowing the healing process down to garner sympathy.” At her annoyed glance, he laughed. “Not just yours, my love. I needed the council to believe I had truly suffered so they would release me from the rest of my punishment.”

That wasn’t too bad. Really, it was just Loki being Loki, something she would have to get used to. But it also made her realise that there was no point keeping her own feelings bottled up in order to spare his. She needed to be blunt.

“Consider this fair warning,” she said. “I’m not loyal Sigyn. Do you understand? I’m not a mythological woman with the patience of a saint. I won’t be there to keep the poison from you when you’ve pissed off the next warlord. If you make decisions that hurt other people, I’ll make you pay for it in kind.”

“And thus I have been warned.” His amusement wasn’t fading any.

“You’re on probation right now. Behave yourself, and I’ll consider marriage.”

He frowned. “How far do the sanctions of this probation extend?”

“What do you mean?”

“Marriage is being withheld as a reward for my good behaviour, but what else? Will you refuse to share my bed?” They’d reached the corridor where they would have to choose one direction or another: her chambers or his. He paused, waiting for her response.

“Oh.” He’d switched moods again, diving headlong into an intensity that turned her knees to water. “No.”

His answering smile was wicked. “Then I can live with your terms. Shall we seal the deal?” He held his hand out, turning in the direction of his chambers. She took it without pause, without needing to think, and followed him.

Notes:

So sorry for the extended delay (well...it's been just over a week). I had computer problems, a few killer headaches, and then decided this was best in one piece rather than being split into two. That means it's the longest chapter yet.

The next chapter will be the last. It's already been written and just needs tweaking based on pre-reader feedback so will be up in the next few days. We're nearly at the end! *sob*

Chapter 38: Forever

“You can pout all you want, I’m not putting those on.”

Loki was definitely pouting, holding out the vambraces as if the longer he annoyed her with them, the more likely she was to crumble. “This is a diplomatic journey, Asta. We need to have a certain impact. Adding these to your ensemble will show them you are no longer a mere mortal they can control the fate of.”

Alex took the gold-stitched leather from him and with one last glance at the serpent pattern, tossed them aside. “No, these basically stamp ‘property of Loki’ on me, which is exactly what you want. Considering this is SHIELD we’re talking about, that just ups my chances of getting shot at. I’m not your possession, and neither am I eager to face whatever weapons they’ve cooked up in case you return. It might not kill me but it’ll still bloody hurt.”

Loki had already explained that SHIELD’s equipment would have alerted the agency to the renewed energy of the Bifrost, putting them on high alert. Chances were that when their little diplomatic mission—sanctioned by Odin—set foot on Earth, they’d be facing SHIELD agents straight away. If she were wearing anything that signalled she was on Loki’s side, they’d probably shoot first and ask questions later.

“I will not allow any harm to come to you,” he protested.

“Look, we don’t have time to discuss this anymore. We have to get going. I’m dressing for comfort, not courtly high fashion, and that’s it.”

He sulked all the way to the stables, then got even moodier when Thor was waiting for them, all smiles and easy laughter. He had a lot to be happy about—if everything went as it was meant to, he was going to be reunited with the girl he’d once told Alex about. She had her own reunion with the chestnut mare, whose name she’d finally learned: Hrattríða, happy to see there was no evidence of her injury.

Loki’s mood improved with the reaction of the crowds lining the boulevard to the Bifrost. The sight of so many people made her nervous, given people’s usual reaction to Loki, but for once the crowds were cheering, here to give them a fond send-off. Flowers landed at their feet as they rode by, and to her astonishment most of the chants were of her name, not Thor’s. She glanced to the princes for an explanation, and both were staring at her with open pride. She bit her lip to stifle the tears that threatened—happy tears, especially when she saw the wounded warriors at the front of the crowds.

I’m not a hero, she reminded herself, but I saved a lot of lives.

Where once the Bifrost had cut off, jagged edge giving way to the black of space, it now ended in the gold splendour of a spherical building—the rebuilt Observatory, gateway to the other realms. Heimdall waited on guard outside. He nodded to them but did not move aside. Not just yet. They dismounted and handed the care of the horses to the waiting grooms, while the happy murmur of the crowds behind them grew louder. Alex turned to look back on Asgard, shining under a cloudless sky, as the queen rode down the bridge towards them, gathering flowers from her adoring subjects.

It had been Odin’s suggestion she come with them. She carried a gravitas that Thor often lacked, and had the authority to make agreements on Odin’s behalf that her sons didn’t. Besides which, she’d expressed an interest in visiting Earth again after a long absence. Loki had muttered something about it being more interesting now both her sons’ lovers came from there.

Now the queen had captured their audience’s attention, Loki was relaxed enough to pull Alex into him, tucking her under his chin while they waited. Even the simple act of being close to him in this way made her heart ache; he no longer shied away from showering her in intimacy or affection, even if he was wary of being too open about the way he felt outside those close to them. His scent also reminded her of the chambers they were leaving behind, the rumpled sheets and luxurious bed they’d spent weeks taking advantage of. Thankful though she was that she still had the ability to sleep and dream, the fact she no longer needed to was a bonus on days like this, where Loki had denied her the opportunity to.

When Frigga finally reached them, handing her own mount off the grooms, she took Thor by the hand.

“Guardian,” she said in greeting to Heimdall, and he stepped aside to let them pass. “Shall we?” she said to the rest of them.

Alex barely had time to glance around the Observatory as they entered. Plenty of gold and a huge dais in the centre with a small mechanism at the top of it. She’d rebuilt all this and she had no idea how—she didn’t have a clue how any of it worked. They walked around to the opposite side, where they looked out over the open water, stretching out to the horizon and the stars. She glanced back when she heard Heimdall’s steps. He crossed to the dais, sword aloft, and slid it into the mechanism’s shaft.

Lightning flared upwards and the floor shook beneath her feet. She grabbed onto Loki and shut her eyes as the walls began to spin. She could still feel the Bifrost’s path, the many forks and turns it took as it stretched out across space, and that connection to it crystallised as one particular route formed. She squinted out, seeing the other half of the Bridge forming in front of them, lightstreams in the dark of infinity, and they were all sucked forward into that light.

Travelling the Bifrost the old fashioned way wasn’t any more fun than crossing the universe using the power of the Tesseract. At least she stayed on her feet this time when they landed, even if a stream of colours spun around her head. She groaned, and Loki caught her before she stumbled. Around them a cloud of sand swirled, taking a few minutes to settle before revealing stony desert and shrubby ground.

“I recognise this place,” Thor murmured. “This is where I first fell to Midgard.”

Alex dusted herself off and stepped out of the circle. She recognised it too. “It’s New Mexico. We can’t be far from the old SHIELD compound.”

The clicking of guns announced how close they were to SHIELD.

Loki dragged her behind him and Thor covered Frigga, the brothers sandwiching the women between them so they could face out and fight if needed. Out of the desert dust a circle of black-clad, heavily armed agents surrounded them. To one side, a figure in a trenchcoat watched, Romanoff by his side.

“You have got to be kidding me,” he said.

“Director Fury?” Frigga asked, stepping forward. The circle of agents glanced to Fury, wonder clear on their faces at the regal glamour of the queen. Fury eyeballed her, nodding, though he seemed to be taken aback at her presence too. “I am Frigga, Queen of Asgard and wife of Odin Allfather. I come as his representative to Midgard. May we talk?”

Fury’s suspicion lessened and he gave a sharp nod. “Let’s take this somewhere private.”

---

Private turned out to be a conference room in a warehouse complex close to the landing site. If Alex, had to guess, she’d say this was built recently, in response to the activity they’d picked up from the Bifrost. It had new car smell, the paintwork still fresh. Most of the agents who’d cornered them stayed outside. Instead, Fury was joined only by Romanoff and to Alex’ pleasant surprise, Coulson. He gave her a small nod when he saw her but his face was the same old mask of blankness, giving nothing away. At least Romanoff was being open about her curiosity.

“Forgive me,” Fury began, “if I appear confused. As far as we were concerned, he,” he pointed to Loki, “was being taken back with Thor and was no longer our problem. Yet here he is.”

“Circumstances have changed,” Frigga replied calmly.

“Really.” Fury was working to keep the sarcasm out of his voice, though Frigga would probably have ignored it even if he’d failed.

“Greatly, in fact. In the time since my sons returned to Asgard, we have fought a war and faced the same invaders who wrought such damage on your own realm. Thanos has been destroyed, the Tesseract along with him, and Loki played no small part in his defeat.”

For a moment, Alex was sure Fury was going to smile when heard about Thanos’ death. “I beg your pardon for what I’m about to say, but I find it highly probable Loki’s involvement was to save his own skin.”

Loki smirked at the assessment, but didn’t speak. He and Thor were under orders to hold their tongues and let Frigga deal with everything.

“Indeed,” Frigga said. She could hardly tell Fury he was wrong. “But it can be equally argued that he was only tangled in Thanos’ schemes for this realm to ensure his own survival.”

“I don’t know about that. He seemed pretty keen on the idea of being a king.”

“Perhaps. But you underestimate the effect the Tesseract had on amplifying wishes and desires in those it touched. You have those among your number who can attest to that.”

“Then I guess it’s a good thing it’s gone, though I still don’t understand why he’s here, even if I appreciate the fact you trekked across the universe to let me know.”

“We have a deal to offer you.”

Fury sat back, curiosity finally evident.

“Loki must make amends to the people of Midgard. Meanwhile, Thor has come to view this realm with much fondness. In light of those two facts, they wish to spend some time here, repairing some of the damage caused by the attempted invasion. We also offer Asgard’s allegiance, should Midgard find itself in need of protection in the future. With the repair of the Bifrost we can easily come to your aid.”

Fury’s one eye narrowed. “The first part, I get, but not the second. Why would you do that for us?”

Frigga smiled. “I’m aware you are charged with the protection of the realm from external forces, and you are worried what would happen if a more advanced race came along to attempt what the Chitauri failed at. It’s why you wanted the Tesseract in the first place. We can help you if such on occasion rises.”

“That still doesn’t tell me why.”

Frigga’s shifted her gaze to Alex, and that meant she found herself under Fury’s scrutiny.

“Oh, our little fugitive,” he said.

“Then you understand our terms,” said Frigga. “She will be given free passage to and from this realm to Asgard, just as my sons, without your agency’s pursuit. While she is here on Midgard she is free to do as she wishes, go where she pleases. You will no longer consider her a captive or a fugitive.”

Fury’s expression was inscrutable again, but Alex knew the bargain wasn’t one he could pass up. His job was to protect the Earth, and she was just one person. She was only useful as leverage against Loki, and if he was in on the pact they had no more need for her.

“Where do I sign?”

---

Fury, Frigga and Loki were left alone to iron out the finer details of the agreement, the director becoming much friendlier and deferent to the queen when it was clear they were definitely on the same side.

Thor had a surprise waiting for him when he left the conference room: a quiet brunette lingering in the corridor. From the way his face lit up—and how he ran to meet her—this was his girl. They departed to look for private space, and that left Alex with some time to herself. She exited the building through the nearest door, watched by dozens of pairs of eyes, to stand on the edge of the desert.

Home. Finally.

She didn’t care anymore if the SHIELD agents judged her for going back to Loki. Almost a year had passed since they departed for Asgard and none of them understood what had happened there. Few of them had even known her when she’d been their captive, and fewer still knew Loki. She knew what she was getting into.

Quiet steps in the sand alerted her to someone’s approach, and she turned her head to see Romanoff by her side.

“You’re with him again.” The disapproval was clear in her voice.

“I am.”

“I don’t understand why you chose him. I really don’t.”

“The man you saw, he’s not really like that.”

“I see.” Romanoff peered out across the desert, arms folded. “I’ve heard that from other women before. It never ended well for them.”

“Yeah, I know how it seems. But I’m not the girl you knew, and Loki’s more complex than anyone even knows. He’s not a good guy, but he’s not evil either. Besides, I have Valkyries looking out for me now.”

“Valkyries?” Romanoff raised an eyebrow. “You move in very different circles now. But you know, you also have me.”

“I do?”

“He hurts you and I will happily find a way to end him. He and I still have a score to settle, and I’m letting it slide because I believe he’ll be useful.But if I suspect he’s becoming a threat again, I’ll try to neutralise him. It’s what I do. You’re a good kid and you don’t deserve to be trapped with him, so if you ever need to get away, you just let me know.”

“Thanks, I think. I wish things were so simple, but for what it’s worth, I’m going to do my best to make sure you never have a reason to go after him.”

Romanoff actually smiled. “Good luck with that.”

When Romanoff walked away, Coulson took her place. “I’m glad to see you’re well.”

“You too.” She wasn’t sure what else to say. She owed him so much, but at the same time he’d helped keep her captive for so long.

“I’ll spare you the discussion about your choice of romantic partners. I’m sure Agent Romanoff has already shared her opinion.”

Alex laughed. “That she has.”

“I only want to thank you. You saved my life, once.”

“I remember. The first time I saw Loki again.” Strange to think of all that had happened since then. She’d been an entirely different person, and Loki had been a mystery to her. A terrifying mystery.

“You have your freedom, finally. What are you going to do with it?”

“Go home. Travel. Buy a camera, take lots of photos. Spend some time volunteering—rebuild houses in disaster zones and feed people in refugee camps.” The last was something she’d decided on when Odin agreed they should come to Midgard. If she had infinite time, she should use it wisely, and try to find a way to act as a counterbalance to Loki’s presence in the universe. If he was being sneaky, or manipulative, or just plain cruel, she needed to be a force of good.

“Then I wish you well. I’m sure our paths will cross again.”

“Me too. Goodbye, Coulson.” To his surprise, she caught him around the waist, giving him the hug he deserved.

---

With the terms of the deal struck, Frigga returned to Asgard. SHIELD, for their part, seemed to be honouring their side, offering them accommodation for the night and arranging a flight to England for Alex.

She made the trip alone this time—taking Loki to meet her parents was in no way a good idea. In time, she could warm them up to the idea of him, but for now he was the monster who’d stolen their daughter away from them.

Her return was treated in much the same way as her last: hysterical tears.

“You’re different,” her mother said immediately. “I don’t know how, but you are.”

“It’s not important,” she replied, hugging tightly. “It’s nothing bad. I’m sorry I took so long to come back.”

“Are you home for good now?”

She had to say no. “I won’t always be here, but I will be home more often. And I promise you, wherever I am, I’m happy.”

Her ability to go without sleep was even more important while she was home. When the household had settled down for the night, she snuck downstairs and out of the back door, just as she had when she was a child.

She walked the familiar path with a lighter heart than she had the last time she was here. The night held no fear for her, and her skin tingled with anticipation as she entered the woods. There he waited, a shadow among the shadows, eagerly reaching for her when she approached.

“I have missed you,” he whispered against her mouth. “The nights will not be enough.”

“They will,” she promised.

"Tell me you love me and it will aid me to abide the days you are far away."

"I love you."

"Now show me your love," he demanded, and she rolled her eyes, surrendering to his kiss. When she opened her eyes, their location had changed. They were still surrounded by trees but the light quality was different, deeper and darker. “That’s cheating,” she admonished. “Where are we?”

He unfurled one of those wicked, infuriating smiles and unclipped his cape to lay it on the ground. “Don’t you recognise it?”

The cape was a clue. “It’s where we first…”

“Indeed. Where you first promised yourself to me, Asta.” And he pulled her down onto the cape to fulfil that promise.

 

 

Notes:

This is it. The very end.

Considering I originally thought this was going to be 10000 words at most and around 10 chapters long, it's come a long way. I mean, it's novel length! It already feels very strange not to be writing this story any more and I will miss these characters, even if I go on to write more Loki in the future (which is very likely).

Thanks to my fantabulous pre-readers Twiggy, Rhi and Lindsey, without who(m?) this would be in much poorer shape, and especially for a quick turnaround the times I sprung a chapter on them and wanted feedback NOW.

And of course, thanks to everyone who read and reviewed. I loves you all. There will probably be outtakes coming as and when I get an idea, so if there is something in particular you want to see, even in drabble form, let me know. I can't make any promises but I'm sure I'll be drawn back to Alex/Asta and Loki.

/oscar speech