Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

In his rather long life, Loki had had many experiences. Death was, obviously, not one of them. Or, as he would have to say now, had not been. Because apparently, he was dead now. The experience was not half as impressive as he had imagined it to be, it had merely been... unpleasant. Painful, yes, definitely. But he had not felt anything that he would have expected, like a soul being pulled out of his body or any astral form experience or anything like that. No, actually Loki didn't feel really dead at all.

He looked around in the dark hall he stood in. No, dark was not quite the right word – there were torches on the wall, but rather than spending light, they made the shadows of the room come alive in writhing, dancing movements. This certainly didn't look like he had imagined Valhalla (where he ought to be now since he had died in a fight, hadn't he?), so perhaps – Hel? Which would mean...

Soft footsteps echoed through the hall and Loki turned around. Behind him, there was a wide staircase that parted into two smaller ones which led to the left and the right. From the left side, a girl clad in a plain dark dress descended the stairs, her bare feet causing quiet tapping sounds on the black marble. Long, black hair framed her pale and the and that slid down the railing beside her had long, almost ghostly white fingers.

Loki watched her for what felt like an eternity until she came to a halt on the last step. This way, she was eye to eye with the god who regarded her, let his gaze wander up and down her body until it locked on her eyes again which were the exact same colour as his.

For once, the Silver Tongue was at a loss for words.

Silently, he extended a hand towards the girl. She looked at it for a second before she finally stepped down onto the floor, making herself about a foot smaller than the god, and determinedly wrapped her arms around his torso in a tight embrace. Loki returned it immediately, holding her as close as tightly as he dared to, and exhaled the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.

“Hel”, he whispered and rested his chin on top of her head. An unbelievable amount of relief flooded him when her gesture answered so many questions at once. She recognized him. She welcomed him into her realm. She was (or seemed, at the very least) well.

And most important of all, she did not hate him for abandoning her.

After a few moments, she stepped back and Loki let go of her reluctantly.

“Welcome, father”, she greeted, a small smile gracing her lips. “I didn't expect you this soon, to be honest.”

He chuckled. “Me neither. I had expected a few more years –“ with Anthony, his mind finished, but he cut himself off before he could speak that out loud. He couldn't even really say it was true, actually; up until his last moments he had not even believed his feelings to be mutual.

Because I love you , the mortal's voice echoed through his mind. Oh, come on, don't act like you didn't know.

Hel noticed his sudden silence and decided to act against it with saying: “Oh, I apologize for taking you before you could go to Valhalla. You died in the aftermath of a battle, you should be there now – I acted before anyone else had a chance to.” She hesitated. “Of course, I will return you if you want to –“

“No”, Loki interrupted. “I do not believe I really wish to spend eternity in Valhalla, together with a bunch of drunk fools who spend their eternity by repeating the same stories over and over again. No way in he– um.” He cleared his throat. “You know what I mean.”

Hel laughed, baring perfectly white teeth. “Your mortal did have quite an influence on you, didn't he.”

“My mortal?”, the god repeated. “I have no idea what that is supposed to mean.”

“Oh, come on”, his daughter said, grinning. “We have better things to do than denying the obvious, don't we?”

Loki huffed, but didn't speak up again as he followed the goddess back upstairs. They led into a hallway with no torches or windows, but still there was a strange kind of light illuminating the scenery. Hel opened one of the doors and her father noticed with mild surprise that the room behind it looked like a guest chamber. It contained a large bed and several armchairs, also some empty bookshelves and a wardrobe. The furniture looked dark, but comfortable nonetheless, and there was a door on the left wall which he assumed led to a bathroom.

He was proven right when his daughter opened the door and stepped inside. The room was large, with a pool embedded in the marble tiles and when the god looked to his right, he spotted his own reflection in a mirror (no, not quite a mirror, but a wall polished so blankly it allowed him to see himself. His face was still smeared with blood and his armour showed traces of the battle.

“Should my body not be... you know, sort of reset?”, he asked.

Hel smiled while handing him a bowl of warm water, together with a cloth. “Usually, it would be, but I interfered with the natural way of things in order to have you here with me”, she explained. “When he banished me here, Odin gave me more might than he probably likes.” Loki nodded, for the moment satisfied with the answer, and dunked the towel in the bowl to wipe the blood off his face. A thought occurred to him and he reached out for the branches of Yggdrasil, finding out with a pleased smile that he could access his magic even in this realm. While he wetted the towel again to clean himself properly, he kept glancing up at his daughter. There was something about her that bothered him, and apparently he was very obvious as she said: “Go on, ask.”

Loki sighed. It was definitely not good that she was able to read him this easily and he asked: “Am I really this obvious?” To that, she just nodded and he huffed before continuing slowly: “I was just wondering...” He hesitated. This was something that was nagging at his mind, yes, but still it was difficult to address. “How is it that you are not... I mean, I remembered you more...” He stopped again and exhaled.

“Your memory is not fooling you”, Hel said, putting an end to his stuttering (and the disgrace for his name as Silver Tongue). She raised her left hand, slender, almost fragile, and perfectly pale. And suddenly – just for a split second – Loki could see rotten flesh, partly exposing impossibly white bones, before the illusion was back in place. Hel had never stopped smiling and now explained: “My father is the man they call the god of trickery. It would be ridiculous if I couldn't cast a little glamour myself, wouldn't it? It is enough to fool even skilled magicians”, she grinned at Loki briefly before her expression faltered and her eyes dropped to the blood-stained water in the bowl as she continued very quietly, “although it was never enough to trick myself.”

“I am sorry”, Loki whispered, but the goddess immediately replied: “Don't be.” She hesitated. “The dead might be boring sometimes, but I am ruling a whole realm, that's more than some other people in this room.” The god coughed into the washcloth and stared at her.

“What was that just now?”, he asked incredulously and Hel grinned widely.

“I said, unlike than certain people in this room, I am ruling a realm.” Her father just huffed sullenly in response and heard her snicker, a sound so sincere that it made up for any joke she could possibly make. (And thinking about that, she probably had the sharp tongue from him, anyway.) In lack of a response, he finished cleaning his face to avoid looking at her when he felt an itching on his chest. Right, his body was in the condition it had been in when he had died, which meant...

“If you don't mind.” In a golden glow the upper part of his armour disappeared, leaving him only in tight leather pants and boots. He started wiping off the blood and poison that had been oozing from the sword cut there, revealing perfectly white skin underneath. Interesting. So his inner injuries and poisoning were gone, but his appearance had not changed the least bit. He really needed to know how that had worked. “So... there is something else on my mind”, he told her.

“Go ahead”, she said invitingly.

“There is somebody who should have arrived here a few minutes before I did... A little bigger than me, grape coloured...”

“Ah, you mean him”, Hel said cheerfully. “Don't worry, Thanos is a bit... purple for my taste. I condemned his soul and I am very sure we shall never hear from him again. Although you ruined my game.” Loki cocked an eyebrow in a silent question. “He was chasing after me”, his daughter elaborated, “and I denied death, denied myself to him. But the way you, Thor and Anthony dealt with him, I had no real choice but to finally take his soul. Anyway, father, there is no need to worry about my romantic choices to that extent.” She grinned.

“I am so sorry for ruining your game”, Loki drawled sarcastically and then, Hel's last sentence echoed in his head again. “Wait, are you –”, he searched for the most neutral term he could think of, “are you... in a relationship?”

She laughed again, shaking her head, and replied: “No, I am not... yet. But I'll be sure to ask you for advice, seeing how well you handled your love-life so far. And now clean all that blood up, I want to show you something.”

~*~

The realm of Death was not half as unpleasant as the name led to believe. Hel showed Loki her enormous library and although the mansion was held in an overall dark style, all the furniture and rooms were comfortable. Even the food (of which he never knew where it was coming from) was great. No, death was really not all that unpleasant. At least, not for him.

“Father!”, he heard Hel scream and leaned back in the armchair he sat in, trying to suppress a grin. “You dare, you damn...” The door of the library hall was flung open and Loki flipped a page of his book just for show before looking up to his daughter. Her cheeks were flushed red with anger.

“What's the matter, my dear?”, he asked innocently.

“You”, she gritted out, “are the matter. You damn child! You can play your games with your mortal friends, but not with me!”

“Why is that? I thought a change of style would be in order”, he explained, desperately holding back his laughter. “I merely assisted you.”

“You. Dyed. My. Hair. Pink.” Her voice was straining from the effort not to yell at him. “For the second time now and you are here for just three days so far.”

“I think it suits you”, he commented, now outright grinning.

“I cannot be seen like this! I am judging souls and bringing them to the Netherworld, and you go and do... this!”

“It makes you look very –“

“Father!”

Loki sighed and mumbled: “My, my, what a shame. Such beautiful colour.” With a flick of his wrist he annulled the spell and watched the bright pink of his daughters hair fade into black again, making her relax visibly.

“You are insufferable”, she stated and slumped down into an armchair. “At least try to act your age.”

The god of mischief (come on now, he was only living up his title) grinned, refusing to be offended at being scolded by his own daughter, and asked: “What's the point in being a grown up if you cannot be a little childish sometimes?” Hel huffed and for a few minutes, they were both silent before Loki broke the silence by asking curiously: “How can you see into the mortals' realm?”

“It is actually quite easy”, the goddess replied. “It works like any other vision spell, preferable with a mirror or water, but it uses Yggdrasil's energy and the connection of the branches to reach farther than any other spell could. Sometimes, I am even able to see past the great tree's leaves.” Suddenly, her jaw was tight and Loki saw her clenching her fists at her sides. “While you were... with The Other and Thanos, I sometimes saw what they were doing to you. I have never wished to break the rules and kill somebody this much.” She breathed in deeply and shook her head. “But that's over now, and both of them have gotten a punishment I saw as more than fitting.”

Her father nodded slowly and after a few seconds of silence, he decided to steer the conversation back to the spell. Hel went with it easily and for almost an hour, they talked about the finesses of magic and uses for Yggdrasil's far reach before Loki eventually asked, quietly and full of reluctance: “Can I... can I see him?”

“I wondered when you would ask”, Hel replied with a smile. She rose from her seat and motioned for him to follow her. They entered a part of the house Loki had never seen before; the atmosphere was somehow tenser, colder than everywhere else. There was something nudging the back of his mind, but he couldn't get a hold of it, its presence fleeting whenever he got close. It was unsettling, really, but he tried not to pay too much attention to the strange sensations. If his daughter could stand it, then he would be able, too. “Here, have a look”, she said after they had entered a large, dark room that looked like a black copy of Asgard's throne hall. She gestured towards a black bowl sitting on a dark marble throne, dark runes engraved in its sides and the water inside seeming dark, nearly black. As she waved a hand over it, he saw pictures forming slowly.

He crouched down over it and felt a painful pang of guilt stinging his chest when he saw the images, each of them slowly blurring into another. First, he saw one that must be from shortly after he and Thor had left. The team was standing on the roof where Heimdall had taken the brothers from. After a moment of silence, the humans started to chatter (it looked like that, although he couldn't actually hear anything) and slowly retreated. Anthony stayed, standing there and staring at the spot where Loki had been before with an utterly lost expression. At that time, he and doctor Banner had been the only ones to know about what was going to happen. When Bruce laid a hand onto his shoulder, he startled and spun around, then smiled as he regained his composure and followed the other scientist inside.

The next scene showed him in his workshop, hunched over a desk with his head in his hands, just when the elevator opened to reveal Barton. Anthony looked up at him and glanced down again, probably feeling caught while he was... grieving? Mourning Loki's loss that nobody knew about yet? Was that what he was doing? The image faded as Clint stepped towards the other mortal.

Then, there was a scene that looked much clearer than the ones before, notas out of focus as the others. It showed Anthony in the penthouse, dark shadows under his eyes, talking to Captain Rogers. He looked incredibly tired and when Steve opened his arms slightly, he willingly slumped forward and buried his face in the fabric of the other man's shirt. The tension he carried didn't seem to leave his body though, even when the soldier held him close, trying to be as consoling as he could. The picture twisted something inside of Loki and expected it to waver and blur out again, but it didn't; it stayed there and if not for the small movements that indicated Steve's and Tony's breathing, the latter slightly irregular, it would have looked like it was frozen. It caused Loki a small, absolutely unnecessary sting of jealousy.

“When was that?”, he asked his daughter, gesturing towards the bowl.

“It is happening right now”, she replied. “The moment we are talking.”

Loki watched with a lump in his throat as Tony pulled back from the Captain and said something, looking almost apologetic. He was probably ashamed for showing that much emotion in front of another, but Loki knew Steve would not allow him to feel bad about it. Due to his experiences in wars and battles, he must have learnt how to comfort those who had lost comrades and maybe even lovers. Perhaps he was exactly what Anthony needed right now.

In the small moment of the god's mental absence, the engineer had left the penthouse. The spell had followed him and showed him standing in the elevator, which was carrying him... upwards? But the penthouse was the highest floor of Stark Tower, the only thing above was...

“The roof!”, he blurted out. “He's heading for the roof!” The moment the realization dawned on him, he felt his pulse quicken and looked up at Hel. “He – this already happened once before, he is... you need to allow me to travel to him.” His eyes were wide and pleading and he glanced down at the bowl to see Anthony walk towards the roof's edge slowly, fighting against the wind. “If he – I need to be there!”

“You know I can't do that”, his daughter replied, her tone almost regretful.

“Please, if he's... I cannot sit by and watch this!”, Loki pleaded. “I will give you anything you want, but...”

“Anything?”, Hel repeated. “Father, you should know better than to propose that kind of bargain.”

“I mean it”, the god insisted. “Believe me, he is worth every price I could pay.”

“What if I ask for his soul?”

Loki fell silent as the words sunk in. That was a call he couldn't make and the goddess knew it. Slowly, he answered: “That is not my decision to make. But I can offer you something else.” He took a deep breath and proposed: “I offer you my immortality.”

Hel's eyes widened as she repeated: “Your immortality.” He just nodded and she seized one of his hands with both of hers. “Are you sure you are willing to give it up for him? The mortals are unsteady creatures. You can't be certain if he won't betray you or decide he found someone better. On top of that, you will live another fifty or sixty years at most.”

“Yes, and then will return to you”, he replied, smiling softly. “And that is a promise I want you to give me: No matter how I die, I wish for you to take me back into your realm. Sixty years are not that much time to wait.”

She smiled back. “Well then, I shall break the rules of my own regime – for the sake of my hair never being pink again.” She glared, but grinned shortly after. “It is your soul and immortality for Anthony Stark's life and love.” With the last word, she winked at him and then leaned forward, breathing a kiss on her father's forehead. “Until next time, father”, she whispered and before he had time to respond, Loki felt a pull tugging on his mind and body, and then he was yanked backwards (and forwards - and to the sides) and was surrounded by black (and white - and red - and green), feeling nothing (and too much) and smelling nothing (and mint - and blood - and leather - and oil).

Within seconds (or an eternity) the distant noise of New York's night traffic flooded his senses, accompanied by the smell of too many cars and humans stuck in one place. He stood on the roof of Stark Tower, the wind pulling on his clothing, and then he spotted Anthony, standing on the very edge of the building.

“Anthony, you fool, step back this instant!”, he yelled and saw the mortal whirl around, wide-eyed and startled, and for a second he was balancing on the edge of the concrete before he fell backwards, his arms outstretched and a surprised cry on his lips. For a split-second, he seemed to hover in the air before he vanished, falling down towards the city.

The irony of it was painful – Loki had come back to rescue him and should be the cause of his death now? Oh no, he was not going to let fate betray him like that. With a spell he knew how to use for ages, he bent the fabric of space itself, slipped into its shadows and stepped out of them just a second later, his stomach turning because of the sudden sensation of being tossed into free fall. Despite the wind pulling and ripping on him and the leather coat, the god opened his arms and spotted Anthony directly above him, limbs flailing and scrambling for purchase uselessly.

Loki extended his arms and caught a hold of the mortal, pulling him close (and ignoring the elbow hitting his face) so he could open a crack in reality for them to slip through (or, to be precise, fall.) It opened in the penthouse, the first location Loki had thought of, and they crashed onto the marble floor. Unfortunately, the teleportation had taken nothing away from their momentum so the impact pushed the air out of the god's lungs, especially with Anthony on top of him. Gasping for air, he let his arms fall to his sides so he was splayed out on the cool floor and tried to silence the blood pounding in his ears.

“Lo-loki?!”, he heard the mortal stutter. “What the – I thought you were... your body...”

“Anthony”, he interrupted and pushed himself up on his elbows, ignoring the protest of his spine, “should you do something like that ever again, I will personally follow you to Helheim to kill you again as slowly and painfully as possible.” Which was technically not possible, but he didn't need to know that. “Which is very slow and painful. Do you understand?”

“I – yes”, Anthony answered hastily. “I didn't actually want that, it's just that you startled me and... well, I thought, I mean...”

“Didn't you die or something?”, Clint (who was hanging upside down from the ceiling) posed the question that the engineer had probably had in mind. “Or am I the only one who thinks it's weird when dead demigods spawn in your house outta nowhere?”

Loki smiled. After all, he had all the time in the world to explain.