Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

7/23/21 Addition: If you prefer listening to reading, check out my attempt at recording this chapter in podfic form here. I'm reasonably confident it doesn't sound terrible. I can mimic the accents okay but not so much the deep voices of all these dudes. If anyone knows how to properly embed an audio player or a good free audio file hosting site besides google drive, please let me know so I can make this as convenient as possible for you guys to access. Also let me know if it sucks so that I can stop recording more chapters.

4/21/25 Update: I never made it farther than chapter 7 with recording this as a podfic and for that I apologize, but the plan for this summer is that my husband, who is a professional audiobook narrator, will be recording an audiobook version of all the chapters I've posted so far. He has quite a deep voice without even trying and his natural accent is going to be perfect for many of the Asgardian characters. It's going to be very high quality and he'll be able to record as I go once he catches up to the existing chapters. I'm very excited about this. I'll probably upload the chapters to a YouTube playlist unless a better alternative presents itself.

Thor hurled Stormbreaker towards Thanos. It cut through the power of all the Stones and struck home deep in the left shoulder. He landed behind it and bared his teeth in a mirthless grin. This was not a joyous victory, but damn if it was not a satisfying one. The arm hung useless and Thanos’s eyes were wide with pain and disbelief. Staring into those eyes without pity, Thor pushed the axe even deeper until it severed the arm completely.

“What have you done?” Thanos gasped. “You’ve doomed us all! I would have saved the universe.”

“You call it salvation, slaughtering half of my people when they were already but a fraction of Asgard’s numbers from mere weeks ago? Wiping out the dwarves and leaving only their king behind to suffer? You think yourself a just god, capable of making the hard choices. There is nothing in you but cruelty. My brother was right: you will never be a god.”

Thanos tried to attack with his remaining hand, but with a mighty roar, Thor swung Stormbreaker again, this time for the neck. There was another spray of violet blood, followed by two more thumps. The Titan had fallen. “I told you you would die for that.”

All around Thor, the battle was coming to an end. The gauntlet lay on the grass at his feet, still on Thanos’s severed arm. The green gem in the thumb setting faced upward. Time.

How little time it had taken for Thor to lose everything. His world. His friends. All but a pitiful remnant of his people. His entire family. It seemed incredible that he had cared so much about losing his hair and his hammer so recently. Neither mattered to him at all now, and what was losing an eye compared to nearly everyone he had ever loved?

He had stopped Thanos. He had gotten his revenge. What was left for him now but to go back to the refugees who’d fled with the Valkyrie? Surely there was nothing else he could do. And yet...

Thor wasn’t really thinking. Someone was calling his name—Rogers, perhaps. People were realizing Thanos had fallen. Thor barely heard them. He used the point of Stormbreaker’s purple-stained blade to pry the Time Stone free of the gauntlet, then bent down and picked it up.

“Thor, what are you doing?” It was the rabbit. “You shouldn’t be holding one of those things in your bare hand.”

Thor ignored him. He clenched his fist around Time hard enough to drive it into his flesh. Burning green light erupted from between his fingers, growing steadily brighter. He could suddenly see his entire life stretching out behind him. All those centuries of taking everything he had for granted. He saw the future stretching out ahead of him too, in all its possibilities. Many of them showed cause for hope. None showed the faces he longed to see again.

Dimly, he could hear voices shouting at him to let the Stone go, but he would not. He clung to it even tighter, though the pain was building. He turned his gaze to the past and yelled as he felt himself unraveling.

X

Thor felt a sensation not unlike missing a step when going down stairs. He was no longer on the battlefield on Earth, being consumed by green fire; instead, he found he was sitting on the steps in one of the feast halls in the palace. There was an overturned table, with food, plates, and cutlery strewn all across the floor. “What?” he breathed.

Soft footsteps came from behind. He turned to see whose they were and felt like he’d been struck in the chest. Loki. Very much alive, though his hair was rather shorter than Thor was accustomed to of late. “Brother?” he said, getting to his feet. “Is this Valhalla?”

Loki stared at him in confusion. “Valhalla? We are on Asgard. Why would you—”

He didn’t get the chance to finish his question, because Thor had lifted him off his feet in a crushing hug. “Thor! What are you doing?” Thor only hugged him tighter. His little brother was really here, solid and warm and breathing—well, perhaps he was holding on too tight for that last one, but he was alive.

And that wasn’t all. “What’s this?!” Four people walked into the room, three of whom Thor had thought he would never see again. The tears that had begun building up the moment he saw Loki now flowed freely from his eyes—both of which he now realized felt like his own.

He was dimly aware of Loki managing to push him off. “If not Valhalla, then surely this is a dream,” he said.

“Brother, what is wrong with you? I thought you would be cross about your coronation, not—”

“My coronation?” Thor repeated, and then he realized. He remembered flipping that table in his wrath. He remembered Loki coming around the pillar to sit with him, and then Sif and the Warriors Three entering. Right before they went to Jotunheim.

Right before it all went wrong.

Time. The Time Stone had sent him back. None of it had happened yet. And now, none of it had to.

An incredulous laugh burst its way out of him, and he dashed over to his friends, unable to contain his happiness at seeing them again. He hugged Fandral, Hogun, and Volstagg (causing the latter to drop his plate), and even Sif, for though she was not dead in his time, it had been years since he’d last seen her. She was the only one whose startlement didn’t prevent her from hugging him back.

“Well,” said Fandral. “You’re certainly taking this setback better than we anticipated.”

“Yes,” said Volstagg, determinedly putting together another platter of food. “It hardly seems the moment for such an outpouring of affection, not that I’m complaining.”

Thor paid no attention. He rounded on Loki. “Where are Mother and Father? I must see them.” He ran a hand through his hair—which was no longer short. “And Heimdall will be in Himinbjorg.” On impulse, he stuck out his right hand. He could already feel the familiar response. Seconds later, Mjolnir flew into his hand. He laughed again through his tears, tossing the hammer up and catching it. It felt oddly small now, but so wonderfully familiar. “It’s all still here!”

“Thor,” said Sif, touching his arm. “Why do you speak as though...I don’t know...as though you’ve been gone for years?”

“Because I have,” said Thor. “The Norns have given me a second chance, and I intend to make the most of it.”

“What are you talking about?” said Loki. He had come around to stand beside the others. All five of them stood before Thor, exchanging bewildered and concerned looks.

“I don’t know that you’d believe me if I told you.” He couldn’t help staring around at absolutely everything. How had he never noticed how beautiful it all was? Home. “I’m still not sure I believe it myself.”

“That is for us to decide,” said Hogun.

The smile slid from Thor’s face as the weight of everything he’d lived through returned to the forefront of his mind. “My friends,” he said, voice full of emotion, one hand on Loki’s neck, the other on Fandral’s shoulder. “I am not the callow fool who thought to sit upon Hlidskjalf today. I am the Thor of a most terrible future. In a mere handful of years since I first lived through this day, I have watched nearly all that I hold dear taken from me while I was unable to stop it.” His grips on them tightened. “I have seen Ragnarok, and worse.” Their alarm greatly increased at this; Ragnarok was the worst fear of every Asgardian. “But on my life, I will not let it happen this time.”

X

After that extraordinary pronouncement, Thor strode from the hall, leaving all of them dumbstruck in his wake.

“Can it be true?” said Sif faintly.

“You think he was lying?” said Fandral.

“Thor hasn’t a single dishonest bone in his body,” said Volstagg thickly around a bite of cheese. “As incredible as his claims were, he sounded perfectly sincere. I shudder to think what he has experienced. Worse than Ragnarok?”

“I don’t think he was lying,” said Sif. “But how can such a thing be possible?”

“You know more of magic than any other on Asgard, Loki,” said Hogun. “What say you?”

“While I have never heard of magic that can alter time, that does not mean it doesn’t exist,” said Loki. “However, it is far more likely this is simply an imposter. What better way to engineer Ragnarok than by replacing or taking control of the Crown Prince?”

That possibility had plainly occurred to none of them, and they all looked horrified. “Then how can we be certain he is truly Thor and under no fell influence?” said Sif.

“Leave that to me,” said Loki, and he left to follow Thor—or whoever he was. This evening was not going at all how he had thought it would. His little scheme with the Frost Giants had successfully delayed the coronation, and right now he should be guiding Thor towards something incredibly reckless that would finally prove to Father how foolish it would be to give him a throne. After Thor flipped the table over in his rage, it should have been but the work of a moment to do just that. Instead, in the blink of an eye, Thor had become a completely different man, one who described the Thor Loki knew as a callow fool and acted as though everything around him was wondrous, no longer remotely bothered by the botched coronation.

He caught up to Thor two corridors later, halfway to the throne room. “Good,” said Thor on spotting him, slowing his pace until Loki was at his side. “There is much for both of us to discuss with Father.”

Loki stared intently at Thor. He probed with his seidr for any signs of foreign magics about him, but could detect naught but the familiar crackling elemental energy that always resided beneath Thor’s skin. And yet he was still acting nothing like Thor, even in the simple movements of walking. His stride wasn’t a cocky strut; rather, there was a quiet self-assurance to his step. He carried himself with genuine regality even as he kept looking at everything around them like he found it both painful and beautiful. Loki had planned to test the waters carefully, but instead he opted for a more direct approach, asking, “How can I be certain you are not some imposter in my brother’s form?” 

Thor smiled, though it looked pained. “How would you have me convince you? Shall I recount a story from our childhood or one of our adventures together?” He suggested it without a trace of uneasiness. 

“That would be a start,” said Loki.

“Well, there was the time when we were children when I thought I had found the most magnificent snake, but then it turned into you and you stabbed me.”

Loki had to bite back a laugh. Thor saw his reaction and chuckled. “You had the same response when I told that story recently. Why did you do that? I know it was only the first of many oh-so-humorous stabbings, but I never knew what prompted it.”

“I hardly remember,” said Loki. “I think we had been learning about some war where the victors won through subterfuge, and you declared that you would never fall for such tactics.”

“Ah, so you felt the need to prove me wrong,” said Thor.

“Naturally.”

“Was that satisfactory, then? Do you believe I am who I say?”

“It seems increasingly likely,” Loki admitted.

“Then there is something we must discuss before we see Father.” Thor’s tone had become rather stern all of a sudden, and he had stopped walking. The Thor Loki was used to never had the patience for something like sternness; when he disapproved of anything, he would either toss out an insult and then forget about it or else flash straight to anger. Even if this truly was Thor, merely older and wiser, Loki did not like being unable to predict his moods and actions.

“What would that be?” he asked, trying not to sound wary.

Thor glanced around before saying in a low voice, “I know it was you who let the Frost Giants into the vault.”

Loki only barely succeeded in not reacting. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said.

Thor laughed. “If you’re going to lie, at least put your usual skill into it.” Loki glared at him, now seriously weighing the merits of stabbing him. If he was really Thor, it would be excellent revenge for that remark. If not, he would have stabbed an enemy of Asgard. “Don’t worry,” Thor went on. “I won’t tell Father. I know your intentions weren’t treasonous; you only wanted to delay my becoming king, and you were right. The Thor you know would have made a very poor king indeed.”

“You have a strange way of attempting to convince me you are Thor. He would sooner cut off his own hand than admit I am right about anything.”

“Experience has been a ruthless teacher. One of its lessons was that I would have done better to listen to my brother’s counsel more.”

Loki searched Thor’s features for sincerity. He’d stopped hoping he would hear words like that from Thor a long time ago. If this was an imposter, he was either extremely stupid or extremely clever.

“The first time I lived this day, by the end of it, I had started a war with Jotunheim and Father banished me to Midgard as a mortal in punishment. It was a punishment I sorely needed, but it meant that I was not here for you when you needed me most.” There was something beyond regret in his voice. Grief.

Loki felt a great sense of foreboding. When he needed Thor most? He recalled the first odd thing Thor had said and the foreboding increased tenfold. What had happened? Was it the war with Jotunheim? Had he fallen in battle? “Why did you think you were in Valhalla when you saw me?” he said.

“Because…” Thor swallowed hard. Thunder rumbled outside. “Less than two days ago for me, you were murdered before my eyes, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.”

Loki wasn’t conscious of accepting that this was really Thor, but his hand found its way to his shoulder. Part of him had always believed his elder brother was indestructible and untouchable, the golden prince of Asgard renowned across Yggdrasil for his strength and valor, and the best Loki could ever hope for was to be the shadow trailing in his wake. He had never seen Thor hurting like this, and for all that he had schemed lately to keep him off the throne, the sight of him hunching inward as though he was nursing a gaping chest wound was painful—more so than the abstract idea of his own death. “I’m here, Brother,” he said. Somewhat awkwardly, as he hadn’t been the one to initiate this in a long time, he pulled Thor into a hug. “You have stopped it, don’t you see?”

Thor let out an incoherent, guttural sound and returned the hug, his shoulders shaking. “I swear to you, I will not fail you again.”

Chapter Text

7/24/21: Here's the podfic version of this chapter. The full recording went from 25 minutes to 12 after I removed all the bad takes. Some of these sentences are super hard to say smoothly in an English accent. I dread having to pronounce the name "Eir."

Thor eventually mastered himself enough to release his hold on Loki. It was something of a surprise that his brother had allowed the embrace to go on so long, let alone initiated it, but it had gone a long way towards removing any doubts he still had that he was truly back in his own past with a chance to prevent the many calamities he’d lived through. It also gave him hope that things were not so broken between them already that they could not be mended.

Loki was watching him with his brows furrowed slightly in concern. It was hard to believe how much younger he looked. Had it really only been seven years since this moment? He shifted under Thor’s gaze, fidgeting with his hands as he often did when anxious about something. “Well, shall we go to Father, then, or are you going to stand there all night?”

Thor frowned. “On second thought,” he said slowly, “it might be best to wait until after the Odinsleep. As I have no intention of starting a war today, there is no immediate threat.”

“You? Second thoughts?” said Loki with a raised eyebrow and a smirk. “You’ll have me doubting your identity again if you keep this up.”

Thor gave a rueful chuckle. “I’m sorry I cannot put you at ease by blundering my way forward like I always have. There is far too much at stake.” Including his relationship with his brother. He would not settle for merely preventing his death, and he would not make the same mistake he had apparently made all his life—that of assuming that everything was fine just because Loki voiced no discontentment. It had taken him quite a while after the destruction of the Bifrost to understand that his little brother had not simply gone mad over the course of three days. Happy people did not try to destroy entire planets just because they found out they were adopted.

“You don’t even want to show off your sudden maturity to Father so that he will change his mind about cancelling your coronation?”

“No, Mother can be regent as usual. One more time will make little difference. Though perhaps I should recommend you for the throne instead.”

Loki’s mouth fell open in a rather comical fashion, but he quickly snapped it shut again, his face reddening and his fists clenching. “If that was a jest, it was not an amusing one.”

“It wasn’t a jest!” said Thor, hastily stepping out of stabbing range, just in case. “You are far more skilled than I in every area of statecraft. Politics, diplomacy, economics, strategy, negotiation.”

“That is not the point. Even if I wanted the throne, Asgard wouldn’t have me!”

“Why not? You’re as much a prince as I am.”

Loki gave him a look that was equal parts incredulous and withering. “Perhaps you haven’t gained any wisdom from your dark future after all, if you think the people would be just as content with the silver-tongued trickster ruling over them as their golden warrior prince, especially right after they turned out over a hundred thousand strong just to see you begin your first turn as regent. They would think I had used my ‘cowardly sorcery’ to usurp your place.”

Thor suppressed a wince. Loki’s tone was one of haughty indifference, but now that he knew to listen for it, he could hear the hurt it masked—the longing for recognition and approval he kept buried deep. Words full of bitterness, rage, and despair echoed through Thor’s mind from another time. “I never wanted the throne! I only ever wanted to be your equal.” Well, he’d just have to show him that he was.

He laid his hand on Loki’s shoulder. He hoped he wasn’t making him uncomfortable with the overflow of affection, but after what he’d been through, he wasn’t likely to be able to contain himself any time soon. “Brother, any who fails to see your worth is a fool, and I am ashamed that there were times when I was such a fool, even though it’s been your sorcery saving my and our friends’ lives every other adventure we’ve ever gone on. I might be the king our people think they want, but you are much closer to being the sort of king they need.”

Loki scowled and shrugged Thor’s hand away, but the blush on his pale cheeks told him that he had taken his words to heart, no matter how begrudgingly. “Pretty words, particularly coming from you, but you’re still the firstborn, so don’t think you can simply dump your responsibilities onto me just because you’re finally aware of how unprepared you are to shoulder them.”

They began walking in the direction of the family wing of the palace. The first few minutes passed in comfortable silence. Thor continued to drink in every detail of their surroundings, torn between utter joy that it was still here and anguish over his memories of its destruction.

“Do you truly no longer desire the throne?” Loki asked eventually. Thor looked at him, and Loki raised his hands. “What? All our lives, it’s been ‘when I’m king’ this and ‘when I’m king’ that, and now you’re not even bothered that I brought Frost Giants to Asgard to sabotage your first regency, and you’d rather Mother or I sit on Hlidskjalf in your stead. Forgive me if I’m having trouble wrapping my head around that.”

Thor ran a hand through his hair, still not used to having it at this length again. “I’ll take it if I must, and I’ll do my best to rule our people well and protect them, but the thought gives me little joy.” He smiled, thinking back to his memories of this day. “I remember you asking me if I was nervous before the coronation.”

“Yes, and you laughed me off.”

“I did,” he agreed, “but I should have told you why. Part of it was arrogance and my lack of a true understanding of what it means to rule, but the small part of me wise enough to be nervous was still at ease because I knew I’d have you by my side to make up for the ways in which I might fall short. I may have done a poor job of showing it, but I have always been proud to have you as my brother and my friend.”

“Dear Brother, what has happened to turn you so soft?” Loki said it in a tone of mock disgust, and the pleased blush was back, but Thor felt a pang, remembering when he had hurled almost identical words at him in scathing disdain and rage.

“All those times I spoke of what I’d do as king, I pictured you there as my closest advisor, but I don’t think I’ve ever asked you if that’s what you wanted.”

Loki grimaced and shrugged. “What would be the point? How much freedom does either of us really have to determine what roles we’ll play? You’re for the throne and I’m for whatever advantageous political marriage Mother and Father can arrange.”

“I suppose,” said Thor. “But I can at least see to it you aren’t shipped off to Alfheim or Vanaheim or whatever realm it is to live with your in-laws forever, if you’d rather stay on Asgard.”

Loki frowned at him in a way that reminded him of the elevator on Sakaar, which he took as a good sign. “Are you suggesting that whether or not you lobby to keep me here as your advisor would be up to me?”

“Of course,” said Thor. “I’d love to have you here always, but I wouldn’t force you to stay if it wasn’t what you wanted.”

Loki appeared too stunned by this to form a reply. So instead of waiting until the silence could get awkward, Thor changed the subject. “Hey, what do you say we go to Midgard in the morning?”

Loki’s brow furrowed in confusion and perhaps distaste. “Midgard? Why would you want to go there? Isn’t that where you said Father banished you the first time around? I’d have thought you’d never want to go back after that.”

“Of course I want to go back. I made many excellent friends there and we’ll be needing their help, and they ours, if we are to thwart many of the dangers the next few years will hold.”

Loki gave him a rather condescending stare. “The mortals are barely capable of making it to their own moon. What possible help could they be at thwarting dangers like Ragnarok?”

Thor grinned. “I suppose you’ll just have to find out when we get to Midgard, won’t you?”

Loki glared at him. Thor continued to smile brightly, and after a few seconds, Loki rolled his eyes and gave a protracted groan. “Oh, very well, I’ll go with you.”

“Wonderful!” said Thor, thumping Loki on the back hard enough to make him stagger. The prospect of introducing Loki to the Avengers as an ally had him feeling positively giddy. He was sure that Loki and Stark would get on famously, and Loki would be much more use to Jane and Erik in their work than he’d ever been.

The thought of Jane dampened his excitement somewhat as he entered his chambers. He wasn’t sure what he should do where she was concerned. Should he try to court her again? Avoiding the same pitfalls that drove them apart the first time around would not be the same as getting the jump on enemies he knew were coming. None of those factors had changed. His responsibilities to the nine realms would still keep him away from Earth more often than not. The periods of separation that had felt quite brief to him had been much harder for her. He simply hadn’t been free to prioritize her the way she deserved, and though he gladly would have brought her with him to any realm where she would be reasonably safe, she couldn’t leave the groundbreaking work she was doing behind. He hadn’t realized how difficult it was becoming for her until he returned to find her letter of farewell. He’d left for Muspelheim not long after. 

Thor did not think it would be right to start something with Jane that would most likely have to end, but he also thought it was unfair that only he held the memories of their time together. Perhaps it would be easier to decide when he saw her.

X

Thor’s musings on everything he needed to do to make sure things turned out right this time were cut short by a soft knock on his door. “Thor? May I enter?”

His heart seemed to freeze in his chest, and he abruptly ceased his endless pacing. “Yes, Mother.”

The door opened, and Frigga walked in. The mere sight of her alive and whole made him feel like a mortal again, or perhaps like a child. He was powerless to do anything but stare. She was so beautiful.

“I’m so sorry the coronation didn’t go as you hoped, ástin mín.” She walked gracefully up to him and lifted a hand to his cheek. “Are you terribly disappointed?”

“No, I am well, Mother,” he said hoarsely, covering her hand with his own. He wanted to hold on and never let go. “I know that under the circumstances, it is best if you act as regent as you have always done before. The Jotnar are less likely to attempt another assault if an experienced ruler sits on Hlidskjalf.”

Her brows drew together and concern filled her eyes. “What is this pain and sorrow I see in you?” she asked.

“It is nothing,” he said. He would destroy Malekith and his Kursed beast before they could so much as lay eyes on her this time.

“It is not,” she replied firmly.

“It is nothing you need worry over,” he amended, catching her other hand too and giving both of them a reassuring squeeze. “I swear it. There is much I need to discuss with you and Father, but it would be better to wait until he wakes. I beg you not to trouble yourself.”

She did not look entirely satisfied by that, but she nodded and squeezed his hands back. “Very well. But what will you be doing while your father sleeps? I want to be sure you don’t harbor any wild notions of retribution against the Jotnar or something equally reckless.”

Thor smiled, but it was a little bitter. She certainly knew him well. “Nothing like that. I was actually thinking of going to Midgard tomorrow. Loki too.”

“Midgard?” she said, looking intrigued. “It’s certainly been a while since you last went there.”

He seized upon that for his excuse. “Exactly. Heimdall has said that the mortals have made great advancements since my last visit. I would like to see them for myself. Perhaps they are close to a point where we could start engaging them in trade and building an alliance. It would be good to begin laying the foundations for that, would it not?”

“You needn’t worry that I will object,” said Frigga, laughing. “It does seem an excellent idea. Perhaps you will still get something valuable out of this regency even if you aren’t on the throne yourself.”

He beamed at her, relieved. “Thank you, Mother.”

“Well then, I will leave you to get your rest before you go.” She stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek, and he pulled her to him in a tight hug. Some of the worry returned to her face when they drew apart, but she didn’t press it this time, and left the room.

X

Loki occupied himself with a book until he was sure Thor was asleep (the thunderous snores took far longer to start up than they usually did, but they were rather difficult to miss), then crept down the corridor and into his chambers. For the second time today, he was about to do something he probably shouldn’t, but his curiosity was too strong to ignore. He simply had to know more about this future Thor had lived and which had wrought such profound changes in him.

Thor was sprawled diagonally across his bed on his stomach, arms stuck out to either side, the covers all askew. Loki snorted. He was just as much of a bed-hog now as he had been when they were children sneaking into each other’s rooms because they weren’t used to being out of their shared nursery yet. Loki had woken up on the floor on more than one occasion after going to his big brother’s room for protection from the monsters in his nightmares.

He hesitated for a moment. Breaking into someone else’s mind was one of the darker applications of seidr. It was supposed to be reserved for use against enemies, to expose their weaknesses or gain valuable information. To do it to one’s sleeping brother without his knowledge was a serious breach of trust. But surely the circumstances justified it? If everything truly had gone to Hel in the future Thor had come back from, then he was going to need all the help he could get to save it, and how could Loki help him if he didn’t know any details?

Resolve firming, he crouched beside the bed and pressed the heel of his hand to Thor’s forehead.

Chapter Text

7/25/21 Addition: Recorded the podfic version of this chapter! Let's see how long I can keep up this pace of one chapter a day...

There were advantages and disadvantages to using this spell on an unconscious person. The subject didn’t know it was happening—provided he didn’t wake up in the middle of it. Advantage. The subject’s obliviousness meant the intruder was more able to direct what he saw. Advantage. Dreams and fantasy wove together with the true memories, sometimes to the point where it became impossible to tell where fantasy ended and reality began. Disadvantage. The intruder’s own stray thoughts could veer things wildly off course. Disadvantage.

Whether the subject was asleep or awake, entering someone else’s mind was different every time, and it was not something determined by the intruder. Sometimes you became a bodiless observer. Sometimes you watched their memories like a play. Sometimes you could walk freely through the constructs of their psyche as though a visitor in their home, with different memories contained in the different rooms. Sometimes you watched their memories as if through their own eyes.

This time, it seemed to be closest to the third option. Loki found himself standing on the rainbow bridge not far from where Himinbjorg should have been, except that the great golden sphere of the Observatory was gone. The bridge came to a jagged end, and Father stood at the very edge, holding onto a large, booted foot. Loki peered over and saw that the foot belonged to Thor, who was clutching Gungnir. The Loki of Thor’s memory was holding onto the lower half of Gungnir by one hand. Loki watched himself cry out to Odin, but he couldn’t make out the words. Perhaps Thor had not properly heard them and so could not include them in his memories. The hand slipped farther towards the end of Gungnir’s shaft.

“No, Loki,” said Odin in quiet rebuke. Loki had no idea what this was about, but he watched a light go out in the eyes of the memory version of himself.

“Loki, no!” said Thor, his voice full of dread and pleading. It made no difference, and Loki watched himself deliberately release the end of Gungnir and fall into a swirling vortex below while Thor screamed.

Loki didn’t understand. Thor had said he was murdered, but this… Before he could attempt to make further sense of it, everything blurred and shifted, and now he was standing on a ridge of ash-black soil. The place felt lifeless, and it was lit by what looked like a black hole. Svartalfheim? What the Hel were they doing here? He spun around, wanting to get his bearings as quickly as possible. Thor and another version of Loki—both with rather longer hair than they currently had—were battling...no, it couldn’t be. Dark Elves? But they were supposed to be extinct! A woman was standing near where the long-haired Loki was fighting four elves with daggers. She wore Asgardian garb but was rather more petite than most Aesir women and he didn’t recognize her at all. What was more, even if most of them weren’t fully-fledged warriors like Sif, no Aes maiden who had seen more than six centuries would stand to the side, weaponless, while her princes did battle. Was she a mortal, then?

The long-haired Loki finished off the last of the four Dark Elves, then glanced over to where Thor, whose opponent looked more like a beast than an elf, was being pummelled into the black dirt. Loki watched his counterpart seize something off one of the elf corpses’ belts, along with one of their split-bladed swords, and sprint over to them. He plunged the sword through the beast’s back. This only seemed to anger it, for it turned and impaled Loki onto the portion of the blade that protruded from its chest. Thor screamed again while Loki gasped, though he also slipped the object he’d grabbed onto the beast’s belt. It hurled him into the sand, where he convulsed around his wound. He mustered enough strength to sneer at the beast. “See you in Hel, monster.”

It realized what he had done and scrabbled madly at its belt, but the device exploded, and the creature was sucked, rather gruesomely, into what appeared to be some kind of weaponized spatial anomaly, like a miniature black hole. Thor heaved himself to his feet and ran to Loki, pulling him into his arms.

The present-day Loki watched this, just as confused as he was by the first scene. Thor wasn’t the most eloquent with his words, but even he wouldn’t have described this as murder, surely. This was an honorable death in battle. The kind most Aesir aspired to—though Loki would have preferred his own to come a few millennia later. Soon, the Loki in Thor’s arms ceased to speak, and his eyes fell closed as an ashy texture spread over his skin. Thor roared in grief. The skies darkened in this dead realm’s equivalent of an oncoming storm, the loose black dirt swirling up everywhere. Within moments, it had obscured everything, and then the scene shifted again.

Now Loki was standing in the wreckage of a spaceship he had never seen before, the floor of which was littered with dead Aesir, as well as a few aliens of various species. An anguished cry that was already becoming far too familiar caused him to spin around, and he saw a large purple alien—a Titan?—pulling a lance out of Heimdall’s chest. What was Heimdall doing on a ship instead of standing at his post? Where had his armor gone, and when had his hair ever been that long?

“You’re going to die for that!” said Thor. Loki was even more startled by his appearance than Heimdall’s. His hair was shorn down to scarcely longer than an inch, there was a patch over his right eye, and the little he could see of him that wasn’t bound in strips of metal looked bruised and dirty. Another strip of metal flew to cover his mouth.

Loki had an extremely bad feeling about all of this. Only one Titan had ever been spoken of on Asgard. The Mad Titan. Father had waged war against him long ago, before the fall of the Valkyrior. But even with their help, it had been a long and bloody war, and Asgard’s victory had not been absolute. Thanos had been driven from Yggdrasil and sealed outside its borders, and the Tesseract, the prize he had failed to claim from Odin, had been hidden away on Midgard. But now, Loki watched as the Titan crushed the Tesseract in his hand and dropped the Space Stone into one of the settings of the golden gauntlet he wore, which looked to be of dwarven make. It already contained a purple stone, and there were four settings remaining.

Loki barely had time to process the horror of what this meant—worse than Ragnarok, indeed—when a version of himself strode into view, past the Titan’s henchmen. He wore leather armor unlike any from Asgard, though still in his usual colors of black and green. He made rather a business of pledging his loyalty to the Titan, but from where the present day Loki stood, he could see the dagger his counterpart conjured behind his back. So could Thor. Were they truly so pressed for options that one dagger was the best he could do? Apparently so, and it was woefully insufficient. The Titan caught Loki’s attack in a field of blue energy, then seized him by the throat with his gauntleted hand. He made eye contact with Thor, who strained at his bonds to no avail, and choked the life out of him.

The present day Loki sank to his knees, feeling like he might be sick. Murder. Yes. At last, the term applied. How much of this was accurate to the real events? How much was Thor’s subconscious making alterations?

Shift. They were back on the shattered Rainbow Bridge, but this time it was the one-eyed, short-haired Thor dangling over the edge. Instead of hanging there, holding onto Gungnir, he made a wild grab with his free hand and caught onto Loki before he could let go. “I have you, Brother!” he declared. “It will not be as it was before!”

A cold laugh made Loki jump and Thor awkwardly crane his neck around. A woman with a great horned headdress was standing behind Odin on the bridge. “No,” Odin whispered, but before he could do anything else, she had conjured a wicked-looking black blade in one hand and run him through. Thor and the present-day Loki both yelled, and Odin’s grip slackened. Thor and the dream Loki both fell into the vortex. The woman picked up Mjolnir, which was lying on the bridge, and the scene remained intact long enough for Loki to see the shadow of the her headdress grow until it cast all of Asgard into darkness.

Shift. Loki found himself running in Thor’s wake through the halls of the palace, running as fast as they could go. “Faster, faster! I can change it!” Thor was growling to himself. The hallway appeared to be lengthening before them. “No!” said Thor, and he pressed even faster. Loki was sure he was only keeping up because none of this was real. At last, Thor burst into the room at the end of the corridor—Mother’s private weaving room. He screamed. Loki ran around him and saw that the creature that had run him through on Svartalfheim had just done the same thing to the Queen of Asgard.

Shift. Svartalfheim again, but now it was the Titan Thor fought. “Dread it,” he said, “run from it...destiny still arrives.”

“NO!” Thor bellowed. Instead of Mjolnir, he fought with an axe wreathed in blue flame. “I’m going to change it! This time I’m going to kill you before you can ever lay a hand on him or anyone else!”

The Titan landed a punch to Thor’s chest, sending him flying back. At the same time, his other hand shot out behind him and closed around the throat of the Loki who had been creeping up on him with a dagger. “It will always end this way,” he said, crushing Loki’s throat while Thor watched. “We stand here on a planet your grandfather killed five thousand years ago, and you think you can prevent the consequences by going back a handful of years? Destiny is coming for you, grandson of Bor, son of Odin, brother of Hela. You and all that you love.”

Thor screamed. His one eye blazed white and lightning sparked off him in every direction, and he sent the axe spinning at the Titan. It thudded home in his chest, and he fell, but there was a Dark Elf waiting behind him, and the woman with the horned headdress was behind him, sitting astride a massive black wolf, her head thrown back in laughter. Behind her, a fire giant, who grew and grew until he obscured everything else. Thor looked around, and the barren ground was suddenly strewn with bodies besides Loki’s. Frigga. Odin. Heimdall. The Warriors Three. Sif. A dark-skinned Aes woman in the armor of a Valkyrie. A man in a red and gold suit with a glowing light in the chest. A man in a red, white, and blue suit. A smaller man in nothing but tattered trousers, a greenish tinge fading from his skin. All three appeared to be mortals, and there were several other Midgardians mingled in with the dead Aesir as well.

Loki couldn’t bear any more of this, and Thor’s subconscious was plainly becoming less coherent anyway. He removed his hand from Thor’s forehead in reality, which abruptly severed the connection, flinging him back into his own head.

X

Thor woke very suddenly from a terrible nightmare of death and failure, and he found Loki standing over him, his face white as a sheet. But he barely had time to register his brother’s presence before Loki vanished from sight. A second later, the door flew open and slammed shut again.

It wasn’t hard to work out what had happened. Loki, presented with a mystery as intriguing as what the next seven years might hold that Thor wanted to prevent, had decided that he would take a look inside Thor’s mind rather than wait to be told. As a younger man, Thor would probably have been furious with his brother for that—assuming he had paid close enough attention to put the pieces together in the first place. But now, Thor’s only priority was Loki’s well-being, so he leapt out of bed and went in search of him.

Finding the God of Mischief when he didn’t want to be found was no easy task. Loki had already cloaked himself, and no matter how hard Frigga had tried to teach him, Thor had never quite gotten the hang of sensing illusion magic, let alone seeing through it. The day after her funeral had been a rare exception, due more to Loki’s misery than Thor’s perceptiveness. So to find him now, he went from one to the next of all the places Loki could usually be found, calling out for him. He got no response in Loki’s chambers, the library, or any of the little nooks around the palace where he’d once come across Loki reading. By the time he trudged out to Frigga’s garden, he was losing hope of finding him before morning.

“Loki!” he said loudly, for the hundredth time. “Come out! I’m not angry with you, I only want to talk.” He walked between beds of beautifully cultivated flowers and other plants from all across the nine realms and beyond. “Much of what you saw is what I have lived, and it isn’t even the half of it, but none of it is set in stone. I know we can change it!”

“Do you?” came a voice to his right. He turned and saw Loki materialize beside a tree from Alfheim as he dropped the cloaking spell. “Do you really know that? What if it can’t be changed? You can’t deny that you fear it.”

“I do fear it,” said Thor. “More than anything, I fear having to watch those I love suffer and die all over again. But I won’t let that stop me from trying. I have the advantage over our enemies this time. I know more than they do, and I know what they want and where they must go to obtain it. If I have my way, Mother will never so much as lay eyes on a Dark Elf, Hela will never harm another soul, and you will never be within Thanos’s clutches.”

“Then Hela does exist?” said Loki.

Thor could understand why that particular point would be of greater interest to him than Dark Elves or the Mad Titan. “Yes. It turns out I’m not the firstborn after all. We have a sister. She’s been imprisoned on Niflheim for her crimes longer than we’ve been alive. Father wiped all knowledge of her from Asgard, but she’s the one who slaughtered the Valkyrior when we were still in the nursery. When she got free, she massacred most of our people. All the Einherjar. Fandral, Volstagg, and Hogun. In the end, the only way we could stop her was by bringing about Ragnarok.”

A long silence followed this explanation.

“And here I was worried about you on the throne,” said Loki eventually, clearly attempting to lighten his own misgivings with humor, though judging from his grimace, it hadn’t worked very well. “Is she what you want to talk to Father about when he wakes?”

“Not the only thing, but yes.”

There was a pause in which Loki looked around at Frigga’s many carefully tended plants. “The Dark Elves.”

“Not as extinct as we have always believed,” said Thor.

“What happened?”

“We had stumbled upon the Aether by mistake. Malekith and his army came for it, hoping to remake Yggdrasil in the form they chose, at the cost of all other life in its branches. Mother died defending it. That broke Father, I think, and then you were gravely wounded avenging her the very next day. Mortally wounded, it appeared at the time.”

It was difficult to force the words out, and when he looked at Loki, he saw that his eyes were shining and his fists were clenched. “But you stopped Malekith.”

“I did. And this time we will do it before any of that can happen.”

Loki paused again, and Thor saw him picking at the skin of his palm with his fingernails. “Brother,” he said, far more hesitant than he usually sounded. “Did I really attempt to end my own life, or was that mere nightmare?”

Thor closed his eyes, resisting the urge to grab Loki in another hug. “That was real.”

“It looked like it was to happen not long from now.”

“Not long at all. Just three days.”

“Why?” Loki’s tone was one of incredulity mixed with hints of apprehension and contempt.

Thor looked at him. “I could tell you everything I know about that right now,” he said, “but I beg you not to ask it of me.”

Loki’s brow furrowed. “Is it truly so terrible?”

“It was to you, though I have never fully understood why.”

“And you think you can keep me safe by keeping me ignorant of it?” said Loki heatedly.

If Loki thought he could provoke Thor into speaking, he was mistaken. “No,” he said. “I think it all could have been avoided if you had been told long ago, but I am not the right person to tell you. You deserve to hear it from Father.” Loki looked away, not quite managing to conceal an air of sulkiness. “Can you wait until he wakes?” Thor pressed on. “I will speak to him when he does and ensure that you don’t have to wait a moment longer than that.”

Loki took a while to consider. He looked troubled, but after a few seconds, his expression smoothed into something lighter. “The curiosity may drive me mad,” he said with an exaggerated sigh of longsuffering, “so it’ll be up to you to keep me too busy to fret over it.”

“Then you still want to come with me to Midgard?”

He rolled his eyes. “I don’t know that I’ll ever want to go to Midgard, but I’m not letting you make a mess of this by trying to do it all by yourself.”

Thor smiled. “And I don’t have to worry about you using that spell on me again if I go back to sleep?”

At this, Loki looked slightly chagrined. “I shouldn’t have done that,” he said. “It was wrong of me.”

Thor’s smile became a grin. “It’s alright.” He slapped Loki on the back. “You’re still easily my favorite sibling.”

Loki scowled, and Thor hastily dodged an oncoming dagger, laughing.

Chapter Text

7/27/21 addition: Here's the podfic version! Starting to get a wider array of accents in there, by which I mean Erik's, which is hard. The Americans are a nice break.

The next morning, Thor and Loki broke their fast with Frigga, who informed them that Odin had slipped into the Odinsleep during the night. She watched Thor more closely than usual throughout the meal, but kissed them each on the cheek and wished them well on Midgard at the end of it. Loki noticed that Thor hugged her rather longer than he normally would, and couldn’t help imitating him at the thought of what the Dark Elves had done to her in Thor’s memories.

Halfway to the stables, they were intercepted by Sif, Fandral, Volstagg, and Hogun. “Well, Loki, what have you discovered?” said Fandral, while they all shot furtive glances at Thor.

“He is who he says he is,” said Loki. “And everything he said is true.”

“Then why have you not taken the throne?” said Sif to Thor. “We heard that the Allmother is regent once more.”

“There is much I must do, and I cannot do it from Hlidskjalf,” said Thor. “Asgard will be in the most capable hands possible, and I am trusting the four of you to ensure that Mother’s regency goes smoothly.”

“What do you mean?” said Volstagg. “Are you leaving? But you aren’t even wearing your armor!” He gestured at Thor’s leathers and Loki’s black and gold surcoat.

“Loki and I will have little need of armor. We are bound for Midgard. If we are to succeed in creating a better future, we must first reforge the alliances I built there the first time I lived these years.”

“Then surely your need is greater than Queen Frigga’s,” said Hogun.

“Yes,” said Sif. “We will come with you.” Her eagerness was reflected on Fandral’s and Volstagg’s faces as well.

“In time, I do hope to introduce you to my mortal friends,” said Thor, “but for now, I want you here to support Mother. We will return when Father wakes, so you will hardly have time to miss us.” He clapped an arm around Loki’s shoulders as he said it.

Loki, who had been bracing himself for the prospect of visiting the dullest of the nine realms with those four making fools of themselves the whole time, was surprised to hear Thor rebuff them. He couldn’t remember the last time he had declined an opportunity to have them about. The princes had been sent on occasional errands together by Odin or Frigga, of course, but it was a rare thing indeed for Thor to choose to leave Asgard with only his younger brother for company. Loki’s spirits lifted, and he berated himself silently for it. It would be foolish to become too used to this kind of treatment from Thor. Surely once they had dealt with the Dark Elves, Ragnarok, their wayward sister, and Thanos, this unusual surge of affection brought on by his grief from the aborted timeline would settle back to where it had been for the last few centuries.

Sif and the Warriors Three looked just as surprised as Loki felt. “Will we be waiting until you return to do something about the Jotnar who got into the Vault?” said Hogun.

“The Jotnar are not one of the dangers we need to worry about,” said Thor. “I would sooner have them for allies than seek a fight with them now. The more help we have against what’s coming, the better.”

That might just have been the most shocking thing Thor had said since his initial declaration that he had traveled back in time. All five of them gaped at him. Loki was the first to find his voice. “You would trust those monsters to fight alongside us in battle?” he said. Nothing he had seen in Thor’s mind had indicated this particular change of heart, and he found it difficult to credit. “What of your ambition to hunt them down and slay them all?”

“You should not speak of them so,” said Thor. “I was a fool to do so.” He actually sounded pained, though Loki could not imagine why. “Asgard was the victor in a just war, but we are little better than bullies if we cannot treat a defeated foe with respect. The Jotnar should not be under our heel if they can be at our side.”

“Are you quite certain you’ve only come back a handful of years?” said Volstagg.

“You wouldn’t believe how much can change in a short amount of time,” said Thor. “Now, when you report to the throne room, do not speak of any of this to Mother. She does not know that I am from another time. I will tell her, but only after Father wakes.”

“Of course, Thor,” said Fandral. “We will follow your lead.”

“Thank you. Dearer friends I could not ask for.” He embraced each of them again, and then he and Loki continued on to the stables. Gladr and Lettfeti awaited them just inside, already saddled. They mounted and rode for the Rainbow Bridge.

“Have you thought about how you will approach your former friends?” said Loki once they had ridden out past the heart of the city.

“What do you mean?” said Thor. “I will tell them who I am and enlist their help, of course.” He sounded utterly unconcerned about it, which either meant the mortals in question were complete simpletons or that Thor had given the matter very little thought.

Loki resisted the impulse to run a hand over his face. “Then you intend to tell them, as an introduction, that not only are you a prince from another world, but also a time traveler with detailed knowledge of upcoming threats to their own? Has it occurred to you that it might be difficult to persuade them of your truthfulness? Unlike me, Sif, and the Warriors Three, these mortals haven’t met you yet to know you are worthy of trust, and they likely have no concept of magic, other worlds, or time travel. At best, they will think you mad. At worst, dangerous.”

Judging from Thor’s expression, this had not occurred to him at all. But he did not wave off Loki’s concerns as if they were unworthy of consideration. “Then what should I do?” he asked, frowning.

Loki wasn’t used to being given an opportunity to elaborate, but he recovered quickly. “Perhaps you would do better to treat this as a diplomatic mission rather than some kind of reunion,” he suggested. “As princes of Asgard, we could approach them with the goal of forging ties between our two realms and giving them advance warning of coming threats, which we are naturally in a better position to know about than they are with their primitive technology. That would be a far easier story to sell, and it would achieve the same goal.”

“You are probably right, but that all sounds so formal,” Thor groaned, throwing his head back and looking petulant. “These were my friends!”

“Are you saying that befriending a group of mortals for the second time is too difficult a task for you? You?”

“The problem is that the Avengers aren’t a group at all yet. Before Thanos sent his Chitauri army to invade, they didn’t have a reason to come together as a team. I don’t know that any of them have even met each other, apart from Romanoff and Barton. And the only reason Thanos took the risk of sending the Chitauri in the first place was that the Bifrost was destroyed and Asgard was unable to provide an army for Midgard’s defense. And a few of the Avengers will never even exist if that invasion doesn’t happen, because with it came the Mind Stone.”

Thor had slumped a little in his saddle and his brow had furrowed by the time he fell silent, as though the full weight of every factor he needed to account for as he sought to change time for the better had only just settled over him. Loki nudged his chestnut steed closer to her pure white cousin so that he could reach out to grip Thor’s shoulder. “Patience, Brother. You’ve said yourself that we have time. Just as Great-Grandfather Buri did not build Asgard in a day, we do not need to save Yggdrasil in a day either.”

Thor’s expression softened into a fond, faraway smile. “You cannot know how I have missed this. You and me, off on an adventure. In some ways, I have returned to a simpler time. It gives me hope.”

“Yes, and you’ve returned an enormous sap,” said Loki, cuffing Thor over the head.

Thor laughed and retaliated in kind, putting Loki in a brief headlock that left them both in danger of falling off their horses.

They reached Himinbjorg moments later. A broad smile stole over Thor’s face as he strode inside to greet the Gatekeeper. “Heimdall! I cannot tell you how good it is to see you.” 

“Can you not?” said Heimdall, sparing one hand from Hofund’s hilt to return Thor’s hug. “My eyes have not deceived me, have they?”

“No,” said Thor. His smile faltered a little. If he’d remained in his original time, he would have had to face Groa and Astrid by now, assuming they had even made it onto the escape pods with the Valkyrie. Neither Volstaggsborn nor Heimdallson would have to grow up without their fathers if he could do anything about it, and Hildegund and Groa would not be widows.

“Then where on Midgard shall I send you?”

“Really?” said Loki. “No other questions for my time-traveling brother?”

“I have many questions, but questions have a way of answering themselves if I only wait and observe.”

“There are things beyond your sight that we must find,” said Thor.

“The Dark Elves,” said Heimdall.

“And Thanos.” At this, Heimdall’s impenetrable mask of calm actually flickered. “You could not see them before, but perhaps that is only because you didn’t know they were there to be seen.”

“I will look, my prince.”

“May the Allfathers guide your gaze.”

X

They landed on the desert sand in a whirl of dust. It was roughly the same time of day on this part of Midgard as on Asgard, which meant it was about mid-morning.

“Now, where are these friends of—,” Loki began, but Thor cut him off with a hand to his chest. The dust still made it impossible to see, and Thor was listening hard. This wouldn’t necessarily happen the same way as before, but just in case… He heard a screech of metal and rubber, and he seized Loki by his surcoat and pulled him out of the way, just in time for a large vehicle to come swerving right across where they had been standing. It couldn’t have done much damage to either of them, but the truck would not have been so fortunate, and Thor had learned that such contraptions could be very costly to repair.

“What the Hel?!” said Loki indignantly. “Did they just try to attack us?”

“Not quite,” said Thor, unable to suppress his grin. At last, the dust began to settle, revealing the truck and its three very familiar occupants, all of whom were gaping at them through the windshield. He lifted a hand and waved at them, his grin widening.

“That woman,” said Loki sharply. “She was on Svartalfheim.”

“Indeed she was,” said Thor, his grin slipping a little as his stomach lurched.

Jane, Darcy, and Erik all climbed cautiously out of the truck.

“Sorry we almost hit you,” said Jane. Her eyes roved over them, taking in their distinctly non-Midgardian clothing. “We couldn’t see anything in that dust.”

“Uh…is there a LARP convention around here that we didn’t know about?” said Darcy. “Also, if hunks like this are LARPing these days, I’m gonna go trade my iPod for an elven princess costume right now.”

“Darcy, shut up!” Jane hissed. She ran a hand through her hair and flashed Thor and Loki an awkward smile. “Ignore her. Do you guys need a ride some...where?” She frowned. Like Erik, she seemed to have just noticed that there was no other vehicle in the vicinity, and she had also noticed the burn patterns on the ground between them. Her eyes went very wide and her mouth dropped open.

“If you’re wondering how we arrived here, perhaps you noticed the dramatic pillar of rainbow light that touched down on this spot a moment ago?” said Loki politely, though there was an undercurrent of glee in his voice. For all his moaning about how dull Midgard was, he had always enjoyed showing off in front of mortals.

“A-are you saying you were inside that event?” said Jane.

“Yes,” said Thor. “I am Thor Odinson, this is my brother Loki. We are the princes of Asgard, and we have come by Bifrost to forge an alliance with your realm.”

“That’s not possible,” said Erik faintly. Thor could tell that he wanted to be skeptical, but the compelling evidence of the Bifrost and the marks it had left on the ground were making that difficult for him.

“Wow, you guys don’t break character for anything,” said Darcy. “I can respect that.”

“I understand if you require proof,” said Thor. He turned to Loki. “Should you do the honors, or should I?”

“Allow me,” said Loki. “If you do it, you might break something.” And with a flourish of his hand, there were suddenly several simulacra of Loki standing shoulder-to-shoulder next to him. Darcy let out a yelp and two sparking coils of metal shot from the device in her hand and passed harmlessly through one of them.

“I believe that was sufficient,” Thor muttered, and Loki made the simulacra vanish. “Though if you require further demonstrations, we would be happy to oblige.”

Chapter Text

8/2/21 Addition: Here's the podfic version! Prepare yourselves for my Samuel L. Jackson and Stellan Skarsgård impressions. Also I figured out how to make the phone and comms conversations sound like they're happening over phone and comms! I do not plan to include sound effects like thunder, but there might be music in chapters that specifically have music.

“So if you guys are really from another planet, why did you show up in the middle of nowhere and not, like, Washington or New York or something?” said the one called Darcy, elbow hanging over the top of the front seat as she gaped at Loki and his brother, who were folded somewhat uncomfortably into the back. The vehicle seemed to be of rather flimsy construction—sturdy enough to suffice for mortals, but Loki was sure he could easily bend the metal with his fingers if he cared to try, and there had been several ominous sounds when they climbed in.

“The Bifrost connects with other realms at fixed locations,” said Thor. “Our options were limited. But now that we’re here, travel will not be difficult.”

“Are you sure you can’t stay a while?” said Jane, the woman Loki had seen in Thor’s memory of Svartalfheim, glancing at them through the little mirror above the vehicle’s front window. “You’re from another planet! There’s so much I’d like to ask you.”

“Artificial planetoid, technically,” said Loki.

“Artificial?” said Jane.

“Yes,” said Thor. “Our great-grandfather built it some twelve thousand years ago.”

“It isn’t spherical,” said Loki, “but it does have gravity, an atmosphere, and arable land sufficient to support the population.”

“Jane, the road!” said Erik, and Jane tore her astonished eyes away from them back to the meager dirt track, from which they had been veering substantially to the left. With a small yelp, she jerked the steering device clockwise and they were all tossed about a bit as they swerved back onto the path.

“If your great-grandfather was around twelve thousand years ago, how old does that make you two?” said Darcy, who seemed wholly unperturbed by Jane’s dubious ability to pilot the vehicle.

“Just a few years past a thousand,” said Thor. “We only came of age two centuries ago.”

The girl gave a low whistle.

“Wait, but how does that work?” said Jane. “Norse Mythology is way older than that, and you guys are kind of the central figures of it, but you’re saying you only reached adulthood in the last two hundred years?”

“Most of the Midgardian tales we appear in are a mixture of prophecy and fancy,” said Loki. “Very drunken fancy, I expect. For one thing, Sleipnir is older than I am.”

Thor snickered. Loki summoned a dagger and held it up threateningly. Thor raised his hands with an innocent grin. Deciding it might be a poor show of gratitude for the Midgardians’ hospitality if he got his brother’s blood all over their vehicle, Loki reluctantly let the dagger fall back into his dimensional pocket. For the time being.

“Why did you choose now to come to Earth?” said Erik. He had easily been the quietest of the group thus far, and had spent most of the time since Loki’s demonstration of seidr casting him and Thor (but mostly him) suspicious looks.

“Because this realm is under Asgard’s protection,” said Thor. “And there are dangers approaching that we must all be ready for.”

“Dangers?” said Jane. “What do you mean?”

“Warlords from other worlds with armies that would destroy all life as we know it. They are enemies we once thought defeated, but we will not make that mistake again.” With a jolt, Loki realized that this was true, and not just for Thor, who was living this time over again. The Dark Elves, Surtur, Thanos, and presumably Hela had all fought Asgard before and lost, but they had not been defeated soundly enough. Had that been arrogance or misplaced mercy?

“And we’re supposed to take your word for it?” said Erik. “You show up here like figures from legend and tell us we need to work with you to defeat extraterrestrial enemies we’ve never heard of. How do we know you’re not the enemies and this isn’t some trick to take advantage of our planet?”

Loki expected Thor to take offense at the challenge to his honor, but it seemed he still hadn’t gotten used to this wiser, more world-weary version of his brother. He inclined his head at Erik. “We cannot expect you to give us your trust so easily, especially not when it concerns the fate of your world. There will be time before the threats grow imminent, and we intend to prove ourselves to you before then.”

X

Phil Coulson was taking a well-deserved break from his babysitting assignment, enjoying a cup of coffee and a plate of eggs, bacon, and hashbrowns. He’d get an alert if Stark broke house arrest, and the guy hadn’t left his basement workshop in over a day. He was just thinking of giving Audrey a call when his phone rang. He flipped it open and put it to his ear.

“Coulson.”

“I’ve got a new assignment for you.”  It was Director Fury.

Well, Coulson certainly wasn’t going to complain. “What’s that?” he said, smiling at the waitress who had come over to refill his coffee.

“Civilian tip line just got a very strange call from Puente Antiguo, New Mexico.”

“Strange how? An 084?”

“Not exactly. A couple astrophysicists who’ve been working out there for a while were out in the desert studying some kind of weather anomaly when two young men claiming to be the mythological Thor and Loki appeared, seemingly beamed down to Earth in a pillar of rainbow light.”

“Well that’s...different. I’m guessing you have a good reason to think it’s not a hoax.”

“The call came after we got reports of the weather anomaly, and so far at least two other witnesses can confirm the rainbow pillar thing. See what that’s about, would you? I’ll send you Barton and Sitwell. Might still be a hoax, but I’d like to be sure. Between Stark’s ego and the big green dude tearing up that university in West Virginia, I’d rather not have any more surprises this week.”

“What do you want to do about Stark?”

“Looks like he’s spent the morning buying everything he needs to make a particle accelerator and having it all shipped to his house. I’ve got a feeling that should keep him busy for a while.”

X

They had been on Midgard for a few hours now. The mortals had brought them to a strange, round, metal structure at the end of a street in a small settlement. Erik and Darcy had been attempting, with uncertain success, to contact government authorities, but Loki’s attention was increasingly drawn away from these efforts, for Jane had embarked on an endless series of questions about Asgard and life on other worlds that Thor was eagerly answering. However, Loki noticed that whenever Jane’s eyes weren’t on him, Thor’s expression would tighten as though he had a dagger between his ribs. After Jane asked five questions in a row about the Bifrost and how it worked, Thor produced a book from the small satchel he’d packed on Asgard and pressed it into her hands. “The complexities of the Bifrost are beyond my understanding, I’m afraid, but this book may provide some answers for you.”

Loki decided it was time to intervene. “A word, Brother?”

Thor looked around at him in mild surprise while Jane stared at the book as though it was a priceless treasure. “Of course,” he said, and he followed Loki to a dusty patch of ground behind the building. “What is it?”

Loki rounded on Thor, arms folded and eyes narrowed. “Why did you instruct Heimdall to set us down here? It will take hours for the mortals to summon authority figures, and even then we will not have a clear path to any of your Avenger friends. Are we only here so you can court Jane Foster again?”

Thor closed his eyes, his shoulders slumping. “Are my feelings that obvious?”

“Are they ever not?” 

Thor chuckled, but it was a hollow sound. “I have not come here to court Jane, but I would ask your advice about her.”

“You would?” 

“Yes, and I beg you not to mock me for it,” said Thor. Loki thought that might prove a difficult temptation to resist, because Thor rarely became embarrassed, and yet he was getting surly and his cheeks had turned pink.

“I won’t promise anything, but I’ll at least make an effort.”

“How considerate,” said Thor. He swallowed, gazing out at the featureless desert. “When Father banished me, Jane and her friends were the ones who gave me food and shelter until I regained my powers.”

“Oh?” said Loki slyly. “And how did you repay her?”

Thor shot him an indignant look. “You call this making an effort? Come on, Loki, I’m trying to confide in you!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” said Loki, holding up his hands and smoothing his expression to neutrality. “Please continue.”

“After the Bifrost was rebuilt and the Dark Elves defeated, I courted Jane for a few years. We cared for each other very deeply, but we both had responsibilities that intruded, and in time it became clear that we were on separate paths. Clearer to her than to me, I think.”

Loki was not in the least surprised to hear that such a courtship had ultimately failed. Mortal lives were so fleeting that it would be foolish to even entertain the idea in the first place, and their respective positions certainly did not help matters. “So what is it that you need my advice about?”

“I thought to hide what I felt, but if you could find me out so quickly, then perhaps others—perhaps Jane will as well. I don’t want to hurt her, but her work could be essential to our success in thwarting Malekith, and perhaps even Thanos. And learning of Asgard and the Bifrost enabled her to advance her people’s understanding of astrophysics much farther than she could have done otherwise. I wouldn’t deprive her of that knowledge just for my own comfort.”

“Which is why you brought a book about the Bifrost to give her.”

“It was her favorite book from Asgard.”

“But you don’t mean to court her again?”

Thor sighed. “The obstacles that drove us apart haven’t changed. If anything, my duties to Asgard and the other realms are even more pressing now than they were the first time. I do not know how long it will be until I am free to show her the devotion she deserves. Likely I never will be.” He looked rather miserable about it. Despite how ridiculous the situation was, Loki couldn’t help feeling a bit sorry for him.

“I think you have the right of it,” he said. “If you don’t see a way forward, then you shouldn’t court her.”

“It would be so much better if we could at least be on even footing,” said Thor. He ran a hand through his hair. “I wondered whether...whether you could share my memories of our time together with her.”

Loki recoiled, revolted. “I will do no such thing!” he exclaimed, making Thor wince. “The only way to transfer memories from your mind to hers would be by using myself as a conduit, and I have no interest in having images of my own brother’s fumbling attempts at courtship and love-making stuck in my head for the rest of my life. Besides, I’m sure she’s better off without memories of you ruining her for mortal men.”

“Then what am I to do?” said Thor, throwing up his hands in frustration. “We’ve already established that I’m hopeless at concealing my heart.”

“If you can’t keep your composure around her, then perhaps you should tell her everything and let her decide what to do with it.”

Thor grimaced.

Loki’s brow furrowed as he watched his brother. “I do not envy you the position into which you’ve been placed,” he said. “Are you terribly heartbroken over her?”

Thor gave another painfully forced chuckle and plastered a smile on his face. “Just enough to make this uncomfortable. Perhaps I should simply leave the rest of the talking to you.”

Loki patted Thor on the shoulder, at which the smile became more genuine.

“You did the same thing when you found out it was over between me and Jane in the other timeline too.”

Loki smirked. “Some things never change.”

X

By mid-afternoon, Coulson was pulling up to a dusty building that had once been a used car dealership. Sitwell had briefed him on everything they knew about the situation on the drive from the airstrip. It was enough to be reasonably sure that Drs. Selvig and Foster, at least, believed Thor and Loki really were who they said they were, which was why Fury had sent two high-ranking agents to deal with this instead of a pair of trainees, and why Barton was now getting set up on a nearby roof.

A tall, middle-aged man emerged from the building as they climbed out of the car.

“Dr. Selvig?”

“I wasn’t sure anyone was going to come,” he said.

“You and your colleague didn’t strike us as the type to make up a story like this,” said Sitwell.

“Who are you?” said Selvig.

“Agents Coulson and Sitwell, from the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division,” said Coulson. He and Sitwell held up their badges.

Selvig nodded. “They’re in here.”

They followed Selvig inside, where two young women (Dr. Foster and her intern Darcy Lewis, according to Sitwell’s information) were sitting across a table from two young men who looked like they’d come straight from a Renaissance festival, one wearing polished leather armor and the other some kind of fancy cross between a full-length duster and a tunic. Not quite as Viking as he'd been expecting them to look. His skepticism increased. Dr. Foster was having an animated discussion with the one who matched the description of “Loki” over a book that lay open on the table between them, but aside from the fact that “Thor” had biceps the size of his head, there didn’t seem to be anything unusual about either man.

The sound of the door closing made the four of them look around. On spotting Coulson, Thor first looked like he’d been kicked in the stomach and then like Christmas had come early. He leapt to his feet and opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, Loki elbowed him hard in the ribs and stepped in front of him. “Well met. Are you the government officials?” he said smoothly. He sounded English.

“This is Agent Coulson and Agent Sitwell,” said Selvig. “They’re from the Strategic Homeland…” He faltered, shooting a glance at Coulson.

“SHIELD,” said Coulson. “We’re here to investigate a very unusual report about a couple of Norse gods showing up in the desert. Thor and Loki, I presume?”

“That is correct,” said Loki.

“Well met, Son of Coul,” said Thor, stepping forward extending a hand towards Coulson. Slightly bemused, Coulson reached out to shake hands, but Thor clasped his whole forearm and clapped him on the shoulder, his gaze intent.

“Uh, thanks?” said Coulson. It took a second or two before Thor let go. Coulson shared a mystified glance with Sitwell, who did not receive the same reception. Since this guy was either fully committed to his act or the real deal, Coulson decided to play along. “Why don’t we talk about your goals for your visit to our planet? I’ve been told you’re interested in an alliance, which is always nice to hear.”

“Indeed we are,” said Thor.

“Earth’s technology and science have advanced to the point where diplomatic relations with Asgard could be mutually beneficial in the long term,” said Loki.

“Okay,” said Sitwell. “What about the short term?”

“There are powerful beings who seek to do harm to your world as well as ours,” said Thor. “If we are to defeat them, then the mightiest heroes of Earth and of Asgard will need to work together, and the sooner we begin, the better our advantage.”

Coulson raised his eyebrows. If this was some elaborate attempt to get an introduction to Iron Man, he had to give them points for creativity, but they could’ve just gone to the Stark Expo instead of wasting taxpayer money with the charade. “That all sounds great, but unless you fellas can back up your claims, I think we’re done here.”

Loki smirked at Thor. “Well, then. I believe it’s your turn, Brother.”

Thor grinned. “In that case,” he said, tossing an enormous hammer into the air and catching it again, “we should go outside.”

“Facebook is gonna love this,” said Darcy.

“Miss, be advised that if we do see anything worth recording, we’re going to have to confiscate your phone,” said Sitwell.

She slipped the device back into her pocket with a sullen expression, and they all followed Thor out the back.

“Barton?” Coulson muttered.

“Going on a fieldtrip, huh?” he said over the comms.

“Something like that.”

When Coulson and Sitwell made to keep up with Thor once they were all about twenty yards from the building, Loki caught them both across the chest. “I’d stand back if I were you.”

“Why?” said Sitwell. “What’s he going to do that he doesn’t want us seeing up close?”

Loki shrugged. “Do as you please, but remember that I warned you.”

Coulson noticed that Selvig, Foster, and Darcy all seemed very content to stay where they were. He decided to follow their example, and, reluctantly, Sitwell did the same. All eyes turned to Thor as he continued to move away from them. Coulson was about to ask Loki what they were supposed to be waiting for when the first rumble of thunder sounded. He stared up at the sky, and his mouth fell open. It was like watching a timelapse nature film, but in real life. Where there had been nothing but cloudless blue a few seconds ago, heavy storm clouds were now gathering, casting the whole desert into shadow.

He looked back at Thor, who had turned to face them all with his enormous grin, scarlet cape blowing behind him in the rising wind. Coulson had to admit that it was an impressive sight. He barely had time to wonder if this was the whole demonstration when Thor raised the hammer high over his head. Lightning struck. Everyone but Loki belatedly threw their hands up either to cover their ears from the deafening thunderclap or to shield their eyes from the blinding flash.

“Hey Coulson?” said Barton. A high-pitched ringing sound made him a little hard to hear.

“Yeah?” said Coulson faintly.

“I think I’m a believer.”

“Yeah.”

Chapter Text

10/6/21 Addition: Another podfic chapter for you! This one has some special effects. :D

Within hours of Thor’s thunderstorm demonstration, he and Loki had bid Jane, Darcy, and Erik farewell so they could be escorted across the country to SHIELD’s headquarters. It was a strange journey, to be confined in a Quinjet with his brother, a man his brother had murdered right in front of him, a man his brother had puppeteered, and one of the Hydra villains yet to be unmasked.

Loki would remain innocent and ignorant of those and all his other crimes in this timeline if Thor had anything to say about it, which meant that Agent Sitwell’s allegiance was the only real problem here. Thor had known merely a fraction of the treacherous SHIELD agents’ names, and he remembered even fewer, but he could not forget Sitwell, the lone Hydra operative he had met before Rogers exposed them and recruited the Avengers to take them down.

Barton was piloting the Quinjet and Coulson was alternating between making light conversation with Thor and Loki and with his colleagues. Sitwell didn’t often look at the princes, but he was clearly wary of them. Thor waited for a lull where Coulson was talking to Sitwell before leaning closer to Loki. “I must ask your advice again, Brother.”

All children of Asgard were taught two languages. The first was the common tongue, a High Vanir dialect from when Buri first founded Asgard as a military outpost of Vanaheim. The second, which took on average a century to master—and the written form even longer—was Allspeak.

There was also a third language, developed alongside Allspeak but for the opposite purpose. It had no name and was taught only to royalty and high-ranking military officials. Where Allspeak used continuous spellwork to remove language barriers, the nameless tongue used spellwork to render the speaker’s words incomprehensible to any but the intended audience. Even a master of linguistics or someone fluent in Allspeak could spend the rest of their lives attempting to translate what they heard and get nowhere. It was as valuable a resource for maintaining the security of the realm as Allspeak was for diplomatic relations with others. Thor hadn’t often had occasion to use it before now.

Loki met his gaze with a raised eyebrow. “Why the secrecy? Do you not trust these men?”

“I would trust Coulson and Barton with my life.”

“Ah, then we do this for Sitwell’s benefit.”

“As well as any recording devices,” said Thor. “The SHIELD has been infested to its core with another organization called Hydra. They seek to sow enough fear and chaos across Midgard that good people will believe they must turn to them for protection. Much of the work I did as an Avenger was helping my Midgardian companions put Hydra’s operations to an end, but if those events follow their original course, they will not be discovered within SHIELD for at least two years.”

“So you’re wondering if you should move against them sooner.”

Thor nodded.

“As a rule, spies are a suspicious lot,” said Loki. As though to illustrate his point, Coulson’s and Sitwell’s spines had grown noticeably stiffer since they began speaking this way, though they had not paused their own conversation. “Why should the ones you trust believe you that the colleagues they have worked with for years are untrustworthy? If you succeeded in defeating Hydra before, altering your approach could jeopardize that victory.”

Thor frowned. How many people would Hydra kill and how many deadly devices would they acquire in all that intervening time? He misliked the idea. Loki could obviously tell, for he offered, “However, if the changes we’re already making lead to trouble with these Hydra operatives, perhaps we could have Heimdall watch them and make a list of their names so that we can take action if we need to.”

“That is wise,” said Thor.

Loki smirked. “That’s what I’m here for.”

This got a laugh out of Thor, and he clapped Loki on the back. “Thank you for coming with me.”

“Enough of that,” said Loki, giving Thor a shove, which only widened Thor’s grin. He returned his attention back to the SHIELD agents, whose postures had lost much of their tension at the sight of these brotherly antics.

Thor and Loki received many a perplexed stare when they reached the Triskelion. The sight amused him, and he thought Loki was enjoying it too, by the dancing glint in his eye. They were taken to a large conference room where Director Fury was waiting, Maria Hill at his side, along with a shorter man whom Thor had a dim memory of briefly meeting in New York. He couldn’t recall his name. Thor was getting better at resisting the urge to shout a greeting whenever he saw someone he had known before, but he doubted he would ever become accustomed to being looked at with such wariness by former friends and allies. He was quickly gaining a new appreciation for what a valuable commodity trust was.

Barton, Coulson, and Sitwell all took seats at Fury’s end of the table, leaving the other end to Thor and Loki.

“So, the God of Thunder and the God of Mischief,” said Fury. “And here we all thought you were myths.”

“Looks like we were mythtaken,” said Coulson. Hill and Sitwell rolled their eyes, the shorter man's jaw tightened, and Fury’s expression went even flatter, but Barton quietly fist-bumped Coulson under the table. Thor snorted and Loki allowed himself another smirk.

“Your myths are are woefully inaccurate,” said Loki as he and Thor sat down, “but yes, we are real.”

“Allow us to formally welcome you to Earth,” said the man sitting next to Fury. “I’m Alexander Pierce, Secretary to the World Security Council, and this is Director Fury of SHIELD and Deputy Director Hill.” Thor kept his expression neutral with difficulty. He certainly remembered Pierce’s name. Rogers had had much to say about the leader of Hydra. If he was here now, it boded ill for their negotiations.

Sure enough, the next half hour was very trying. While Fury took charge of the discussion, Hydra’s influence was clear. Thor could understand their desire to ensure that the two powerful alien princes and the world they came from were not a threat, but what Fury and Pierce proposed went far beyond reasonable caution. Did Fury realize that he was outlining a plan in which Thor and Loki could only prove their intentions were good by subjecting themselves to what bordered on experimentation by and servitude to SHIELD? Flickers of confusion and doubt from Barton, Coulson, and Hill at various points only proved that something was wrong.

“Will you agree to these terms?” Fury concluded.

Thor was trying to think of a diplomatic way to refuse when Loki leaned forward over the table, his eyes narrowed and his lip curled in a sneer. “We have come to warn you of enemies heading your way, and we have offered to help you prepare for them and defeat them. I fail to see how subjecting my brother and me to a battery of tests of our capabilities, running numerous scans on our persons, or collecting samples of our blood should be at all warranted. We are the Sons of Odin, Allfather of Asgard, Protector of the Nine Realms. Do not trifle with us. We are not oddities for you to study and we are not dogs you can put on a leash. You need the help we offer freely if you are to survive.”

Fury raised an eyebrow. “Is that a threat?”

“It’s a fact,” said Thor. “Would that our realms could treat together under better circumstances, but that will have to wait until we have weathered the coming storms.”

“Why’s an advanced civilization like Asgard interested in what happens to a little backwater planet like ours?” said Barton.

“Your world sits at the heart of the nine realms of Yggdrasil,” said Loki. “A kind of cosmic crossroads. It is true that your technology is rather primitive and there is currently little of value you could offer us in terms of trade, but we cannot allow Midgard to fall into the wrong hands.”

“Several conquering armies have coveted it in the past for its strategic position,” said Thor. “The Shi’ar, the Jotnar, the Kree.” At this last one, he was surprised to see Fury, Pierce, and Coulson exchange a brief, alarmed glance, but he went on as though he’d noticed nothing, “Asgard has fought all of them back.”

“If you’re so good at protecting us from afar, then why make contact at all?” said Hill.

“Not so long ago, you succeeded in taking your first steps beyond the boundary of this planet,” said Loki. “It may only be decades before you are capable of entering a field of play you have never dreamed of. Surely you would prefer not to stumble onto it blind?”

“Maybe not, but in my experience, the guys with the most power aren’t generally interested in helping the people at the bottom get power of their own,” said Fury. “They’re only interested in making sure the pecking order never changes.”

“You don’t understand,” said Thor. He had grown so frustrated that it came out more like a growl, and he had to press his hands flat to the table to stop himself clenching them into fists. The level of static electricity in the room was also rising, and he had to keep that under control too. Causing a thunderstorm just now would not be helpful. “Our fates are bound together. A slumbering army of Dokkalfar lurks in unknown space, awaiting their chance to tear down our universe and replace it with darkness. They do not have the weapon they need to accomplish this, but if they obtain it, Asgard will fall as surely as Earth. And the Dokkalfar are nothing to the Mad Titan, who, with his world-destroying legions, is after that same weapon as part of a set of six—one of which he already possesses—and if he unites them all, he will wipe out half of all sentient life with a single snap of his fingers. Earth cannot hope to defeat these enemies alone, and even Asgard may not prevail against them, for they are not our only concerns. It is not just that you need us to survive; we need each other.”

Perhaps he was only seeing what he wanted to see, but Thor thought Coulson and Hill, at least, looked somewhat convinced.

“Alright, how would you propose to prove Earth can count you as allies?” said Fury.

“Give us a mission,” said Thor. “Something real. We each have centuries of experience in battle, so find us a battle where you would not risk your own warriors.”

“To be clear,” said Loki before any of the humans could answer, “Whatever this mission is, Asgard is not interested in becoming embroiled in squabbles between individual nations of Midgard. We will gladly do battle with any threat to civilians, but we will not be artillery for one government to brandish at another.”

There was a pause, and then Fury nodded. “We might be able to come up with a job for you.”

Pierce looked at him sharply. “Could we have the room for a few minutes?” he asked. Coulson, Barton, Hill, and Sitwell all stood up and headed for the door. Thor and Loki followed, though Thor thought he saw the briefest flash of gold out of the corner of his eye. None of the humans had noticed.

X

“You’re still in the room, aren’t you?” said Thor in the nameless tongue once they were all waiting outside in the corridor.

“Obviously,” said the projection Loki had sent with the others, while his real body remained cloaked from view inside the conference room.

“Well don’t get caught.”

“What do you take me for?”

Thor scowled. Loki grinned. What did Thor expect? That he was going to wait patiently outside while a pair of mortals discussed what to do with them? Particularly after the way Thor had reacted when the shorter one introduced himself, and after what they’d already said straight to their faces?

Within the room, Alexander Pierce seemed to be forcing himself to remain calm. It was a moment before he spoke. “What are you doing, Nick?” he said. “Are you really just going to capitulate to the demands of a couple of aliens we know nothing about?”

“I’m not sure I’d call them ‘demands.’ It seems like a pretty reasonable request that we don’t treat royalty from a powerful world that might be friendly like lab rats.”

Pierce narrowed his eyes. “You were never going to insist on the tests in the first place, were you?”

“No. I just wanted to see how they’d react to something that outrageous. You saw how desperate Thor was. That was a man who’s afraid he might lose everything he loves, and he thinks working with Earth is his best shot. I don’t think they’re lying about what’s coming.” Loki raised invisible eyebrows, impressed. Fury was a perceptive man.

“And what if they turn out to be the threat?” said Pierce. “Or if they do help Earth defeat these alien warlords, only to turn around and conquer it as a prize? How are we supposed to fight back if we don’t even know what they are or what they’re capable of?”

“If we treat them like enemies when they’re offering an alliance, then we won’t be giving them any choice but to be our enemies.”

“So you want to just throw a couple of powerful unknowns into an already volatile situation and trust that their goals will align with ours?”

“Not really, but thanks to General Ross, I’ve got at least one powder keg about to go off, and the Council tied my hands. I don’t have the funding to send in any kind of response team if Ross pokes that large, green bear again, but now there might be another option.”

“You think Thor and Loki could bring Banner in?”

“Something like that. They want a job defending civilians against a situation we wouldn’t risk our own men on? It seems like the perfect fit.”

Pierce exhaled through his nose. “If this goes sideways…”

“Then I will take full responsibility.”

Chapter Text

10/8/21 Addition: Podfic version here! 

After Fury and Pierce’s (as far as they knew) private meeting, Thor and Loki were supplied with SHIELD level 3 security lanyards to wear around their necks, which gave them access to the mess hall, briefing rooms, and lodgings. Coulson was assigned to be their attaché for the duration of their visit to Earth, meaning that it was his job to explain their assignment to them and accompany them wherever they went.

They ate a fairly tasteless meal with him in the mess hall—Thor thinking wistfully of drinking with Erik Selvig and helping Jane cook breakfast as he ate an assortment of limp steamed vegetables, noodles in cheese sauce, and some kind of breaded meat that seemed unlikely to have come from an actual animal—before he showed them to their quarters. From ceiling to floor, everything in their adjoining rooms was a sterile white, but they were serviceable enough. Royalty Thor and Loki might be, but in their adventures they had spent many a night sleeping on nothing but bare ground (and it had only been days for Thor since he’d been crammed in a psychedelic party ship with a few thousand Aesir for several weeks); they were used to less than ideal sleeping arrangements.

In the morning, after a breakfast only slightly less bland than supper had been, Coulson gave them a limited tour of the Triskelion, introduced them to a few more SHIELD agents, and brought them to the briefing room. Thor had forgotten how rudimentary Midgardian technology was at this point. None of the screens could be manipulated by touch and all of the images were two-dimensional. Stark would be changing that soon.

“General Ross has been hunting this man for years based on the claim that he stole military secrets,” said Coulson. Pictures of Banner and Ross occupied the whole of the main screen.

“Did he?” said Loki, his expression shrewd.

“Not in the traditional sense,” said Coulson. “We’re not talking about files or prototype defensive or offensive technology. These ‘military secrets’ are locked in Dr. Banner’s own physiology. He was working with Ross on military-sponsored medical research. Ross wasn’t honest about his goals, though, and if Dr. Banner had been fully informed, he probably wouldn’t have participated, let alone volunteered himself as the first human test subject.”

“What happened to him?” said Loki.

Coulson hesitated. “I’m guessing Norse culture borrowed a lot from you guys.”

The brothers frowned and exchanged a glance. “Yes,” said Thor. “Why?”

“Do you have berserkers?”

“We do,” said Thor. Without seidr, he wasn’t sure how Midgard could truly have berserkers, but he didn’t challenge Coulson’s use of the word. Perhaps the concept had merely come from their garbled myths.

“Good,” said Coulson. “Then what I’m about to show you might not be that unfamiliar.” He touched a button on his device, and the screen began to play somewhat poor quality, silent footage of an average-sized man transforming into a green, muscular monstrosity and wrecking a laboratory.

“By the old man’s beard,” said Loki. He sounded at least slightly impressed. “He survived that transformation?”

“He did,” said Coulson. “And fortunately it wasn’t permanent. Unfortunately, it wasn’t the only time it happened. Dr. Banner realized that the military was more interested in duplicating this result for use in warfare than they were in curing him, and he’s been on the run ever since. He’s had a number of other incidents.” Coulson touched another button, which brought up a map scattered with a handful of red dots, each paired with numbers of casualties, wounded, and the amount of property damage done in those locations. “But all our information is that he’s done everything he can to prevent and minimize them. There’s no denying that he’s dangerous, but what Ross wants violates just about every ethical and human rights consideration there is.”

“And what does SHIELD want?” said Thor.

“To get Dr. Banner the help he needs, whether that means treatment or space. Either way, that starts with keeping him away from Ross.”

“I take it previous attempts to contain him have failed,” said Loki.

“Every one,” said Coulson. “And those tended to be where the most collateral damage happened. We’re hoping you guys can do better.”

“So our objectives would be to retrieve him in defiance of this general with minimal impact on people and property,” said Thor.

“And the less Ross is able to learn about SHIELD’s involvement, the better. The agency isn’t on the best of terms with him.”

The briefing continued for the remainder of the day, and even so, Thor could tell that SHIELD was keeping back a lot of information. Explanations of Banner’s situation, while thorough in covering his recent movements and what he was capable of, carefully omitted the details of how he’d gotten into it, with only vague references to the botched experiment. Files on General Ross and his soldiers were even thinner—they were essentially only given their names, ranks, and photographs, so they would be able to recognize them and avoid drawing their attention.

Thor was perfectly confident that he and Loki could accomplish this mission, regardless of what SHIELD chose to keep from them, but he wished his own memories would be more useful. He and Banner had never really discussed events from before they met. For the most part, Banner had seemed content to listen to the rest of the Avengers’ tales rather than contributing his own, and he had done the same as a Revenger. Thor felt another pang at the thought of starting their friendship over again after everything he’d been through with the Banner of his time.

X

The initial plan was that they would be sent out “in the field,” as Coulson put it, the following day, by which point SHIELD expected to have locked down Banner’s location. However, they had just eaten another uninspiring meal in the mess hall when Coulson received a call on the odd communications device he used. Within the first few seconds of it, his spine stiffened and some of the mildness in his expression hardened. When he closed the device a moment later, Loki was watching him expectantly, and Thor said “What news?”

“We just got a bead on Banner’s location, but it’s a bead Ross got over an hour ago.”

“Then speed must be of the essence,” said Loki.

“That it is. We’ll be leaving from the hangar in fifteen minutes.”

Precisely a quarter of an hour later, they were boarding the same aircraft from the previous day. Barton and Sitwell were there again, but the pilot was someone new. The mortals strapped in. Loki and Thor didn’t bother to follow suit.

“What can you tell us?” said Coulson as the pilot maneuvered the craft out of the hangar. He had to speak very loudly over the noise of its propulsion systems.

“We’ve piggybacked onto Ross’s comms,” said Barton. “They just raided the office of Dr. Samuel Sterns, alias Mr. Blue, and carried Banner out on a stretcher. We can’t be sure what happened yet, but Sterns’s lab is full of data and materials they want to requisition. The ranking officer on the scene is Major Kathleen Sparr, with Captain Emil Blonsky, UK Special Ops as her support.”

“I thought Blonsky was in critical condition,” said Coulson sharply.

“Apparently not,” said Sitwell.

“Isn’t Blonsky the one we watched Banner hurl into a tree in the video one of the young scholars recorded?” said Thor.

“Yep.”

“And he’s back at work?”

“Sounds like it.”

Loki glanced at Thor, but Thor only looked bewildered. Clearly he had no knowledge of this Blonsky beyond what Coulson had told them in the briefing room, and no idea why he should prove so much less breakable than the average mortal man. However, that wasn’t the most pressing piece of information at the moment. “If Ross already has Banner, then what can be done?” he asked. “Not that he would be much of an obstacle for us, but I’m assuming you don’t want us incapacitating him and his soldiers.”

“That would be a little less covert than we’d like this to go,” said Coulson. “Right now, the plan is to get close and wait for an opening. But we now have the secondary objective of destroying the contents of that lab.”

“We can’t be sure Ross hasn’t already taken some of it,” said Sitwell. “Until we are, a few things will need to go back to HQ with us. Fitzsimmons can get working on countermeasures to whatever Ross’s people do with it.”

“Right,” said Coulson. “We’ll see what’s there before we decide how much to send back to the lab.”

As Coulson handed out small devices meant to be placed in the ear for the purposes of communicating as a team, Loki had to admire the insidiousness of this Hydra organization. Sitwell had just gained access to dangerous materials but proposed it in such a way that he kept Ross as the villain and SHIELD on the defensive, and Coulson and Barton hadn’t so much as raised an eyebrow. Perhaps he and Thor could ensure that none of the contents of Sterns’s laboratory survived. Working with SHIELD and against Hydra without appearing to do so and while the former remained ignorant of the latter’s existence could prove very entertaining.

He turned to Thor and, using the nameless tongue, asked, “What more can you tell me of Banner before they drop us into this situation?”

“What do you mean? Coulson has told us more than I ever knew about him,” said Thor, frowning.

Loki shot him an impatient look. “He gave us dry data, which is useful for tracking and fighting him but not for winning his loyalty. You were his friend.”

The furrow between Thor’s eyebrows deepened. “Above anything, Banner mislikes being used,” he said slowly. “He appreciates those who respect him for his mind and don’t fear him for something he can’t help. The damage the Hulk has done weighs heavily upon him, so I do not recommend speaking of that in positive terms, no matter how impressive a warrior he may be. He’s one of the most brilliant mortals I’ve ever known, but only as Banner. As the Hulk, his intelligence is akin to that of a beast—barely capable of speech and consumed by rage. We will have to make it extremely plain that we are fighting with him, not against.”

“Even though if he makes an appearance, we will most likely be fighting him. How does that work?”

“We focus on protecting everything he might attack rather than directly attacking him. If we can get him somewhere clear of mortals, that can change. Gaining Banner’s trust is how we will eventually gain the Hulk’s.”

Loki nodded. “Alright. But what about the fight? He can’t be much of a challenge for us, can he?”

Thor grimaced.

“You cannot be serious,” said Loki incredulously.

“He has come...close to besting me in battle,” said Thor. “Do not underestimate his strength. Or his speed.”

“Alright,” said Loki. Thor’s insistence that the Midgardians would be useful in upcoming conflicts was beginning to make sense. He was about to ask Thor about the Hulk’s fighting techniques when there was a burst of sound from the speakers that were patched into Ross’s operation, followed by a panicked voice.

“The Hulk is in the street! I repeat, the Hulk is in the street!”

All five of them sat up straighter and glanced at each other in alarm.

“That’s impossible,” said Ross’s voice. “You get a hold of yourself, young man, you get it together!”

“121st Street, heading north on Broadway!” the soldier yelled.

“Damn it, give me eyes down there!”

“Yes sir!”

A video feed opened up on the screen behind the pilot, showing an enormous beige creature with grotesque muscles and a ridged spine wreaking havoc in a crowded street.

“What the Hel is that?” said Thor.

Loki stared at him. He didn’t know?

“Travis, what’s our ETA?” said Coulson, eyes fixed on the screen.

“Another seventeen minutes, sir!” said the pilot.

Coulson swore, and they watched the footage cut off midway through the bloodcurdling scream of the man recording the scene. “Okay, new objective. Whatever that thing is, if it’s still standing when we get there, we’ve got to take it down or get it clear of the city. We’ll have to worry about Banner and the lab later.”

However, it wasn’t long before matters became even more complicated. Moments later, Sitwell held his hand to his ear and looked at Coulson. “We’ve got another situation.”

“What is it?”

“A report from Agent Romanoff.” Thor reacted to this name the same as he had to Coulson, Fury, Barton, and Hill. Another former friend, then. “It looks like Ivan Vanko’s alive. The prototype Hammer Industries drones just went rogue in the middle of the Stark Expo, and so did Rhodes’s suit. Their main target is Iron Man, but there are thousands of civilians in that park. Romanoff’s going after Vanko. She’s requesting backup.”

“And I will provide it,” said Thor, getting to his feet. “Where is this Stark Expo?” Everyone stared at him. “What?” he said. “You wanted to see what my brother and I can do? Watch closely.” He summoned Mjolnir to his hand. “Tell me the way to the Expo, and open the back of this craft.”

“The Expo’s in Queens,” said Barton while Coulson and Sitwell continued to gape. “Northeast of here. I’m guessing it’s pretty hard to miss right now.”

“Thor, wait!” said Loki, grabbing him by the arm. He used the nameless tongue. “You’re going to leave me to face that creature you know nothing about alone?”

“Yes,” he said. “You will be more than a match for it.”

“How do you know that?” said Loki, irritated and feeling the first stirrings of panic. “This didn’t happen the first time!”

“It doesn’t matter,” said Thor, grinning and clapping a hand to Loki’s neck. “I have faith in you, Brother.”

“Sap!” said Loki, shoving Thor away. He was still annoyed, but the panic had been replaced by a fiery determination. “Go, then!”

“I’m coming with you,” said Barton, unfastening his restraints as the tail end of the craft opened and wind howled around them.

Coulson looked like he was about to object, but he didn’t get the chance. “Alright,” said Thor.

“I’m not sure I’d recommend that,” said Loki.

Barton shrugged and snapped a pair of goggles in place over his eyes. “What’s Nat’s channel?”

“Six,” said Sitwell.

Barton tweaked something on his earpiece and Thor’s, handed Thor’s back to him, and set to work rigging up some kind of cable harness so that he didn’t have to rely solely on the strength of his arms to hold onto Thor.

“Give Romanoff my best,” said Coulson, having recovered his mild affect.

“Yes, sir,” said Barton with a grin, and then he and Thor had jumped into open air. Barton gave a whoop and Thor began to spin Mjolnir until it blurred. Within seconds, they had flown out of sight.

In the relative quiet that settled in after the doors closed, Loki found himself the object of three stares, including the pilot’s, who had turned around in his seat.

“So,” said Coulson. “Can you fly too?”

Chapter Text

10/10/21 Addition: Here's the podfic version! Easily the most special effects-heavy recording so far, between the voice filters for Iron Man and Abomination.

Harlem

In the time it took for the Quinjet to reach the location the soldier provided before his death, the conflict seemed to have come to an end. As they flew, they had watched disjointed footage and listened to scattered audio of the battle that had taken place between the large beige creature—who was apparently Captain Blonsky—and the Hulk not long after Thor and Barton’s departure.

Loki’s first glimpse of the scene was of Blonsky chained atop the cracked pavement in what appeared to be the ruins of a building and the Hulk bounding away, pursued by another flying craft.

“I guess we missed the action,” said Coulson.

“Not necessarily,” said Loki, eyes narrowed as he surveyed the circle of men closing in on the trussed-up monster.

“What do you have in mind?” said Sitwell.

“Well, whether or not Banner escapes, it appears that Ross has a new specimen within easy grasp.” One Thor had no knowledge of, which meant he was not destined to become a friend of the Avengers.

“You think you can do something about that when they’re surrounding him?” said Coulson.

“Let me down and I’ll show you.”

Coulson signaled to Travis, who flew them low over an adjacent rooftop. Loki didn’t wait for him to land, but slammed the button Barton had used to open the back and leapt out while it was still a good thirty feet up. The density of his own body compared to the materials of mortal structures could do considerable damage after a fall from that height, but a simple spell created a temporary cushion under the balls of his feet, and he landed without a sound. The next spell cloaked him from sight, and he vaulted over the side of the roof and darted down several flights of metal steps to reach the ground. When he dropped the cloak, he emerged looking indistinguishable from Ross’s men, and he infiltrated their ranks without any of them noticing.

“Not bad,” said Coulson in his earpiece. “Is it the second prince’s job to be in charge of espionage?”

Loki couldn’t reply without the soldiers around him hearing, but he smirked. It was, of course, never difficult to impress mortals, but Coulson had observed him at work for all of a minute and already naïvely assumed his skills must give him great prestige on Asgard. He might be surprised to learn that they did rather the opposite, but still, Loki decided he liked the man. His humility and sincerity were rare for one of his profession. Perhaps that was why Fury had chosen him to be attaché.

“I’ve got an armored truck en route,” said Ross. “We’ll load Blonsky up and get him into containment.”

“You think we can keep this thing locked up, sir?” said one of the soldiers.

“No, soldier, I think we can rehabilitate him. And even if we can’t, he’s still a valuable resource.”

“I can’t believe you!” said the dark-haired woman standing near him, her lovely features contorted in anger. Loki recognized her from the briefing materials. The daughter of Ross. “After what he just did to this city and all those innocent people, you still want to do this to more soldiers? What’s it going to take for you to let this insanity go?”

“You think I sanctioned this?” Ross retorted, gesturing at the creature. “Blonsky was reckless. He didn’t follow protocol or wait until there was a safe way to do it. He did this to himself.”

“Blonsky was a cautionary tale! So was Bruce! Why aren’t you listening? You can’t keep doing this. It’ll end the same way every time, but there isn’t always going to be someone there to save you from yourself.”

“Someone escort Dr. Ross to a hospital,” said the general curtly. She glowered at him but allowed herself to be led away.

“I’ve heard enough,” said Coulson. “If you can get Blonsky out of the general’s clutches without anyone getting killed, do it.”

The creature appeared to be effectively restrained by the enormous chains, but he—no, one glance was enough to reveal that Blonsky was most certainly now an it—was not unconscious. Its eyes roved around the men aiming their weapons at it, looking less like it had been beaten than that it was biding its time. So despite its grotesque form, it still had some measure of intelligence. The idea that Ross could rehabilitate it was laughable.

Loki considered for a moment. He couldn’t simply kill it while it lay restrained. That would be too difficult to explain, and he suspected that even Coulson would not approve. But if it were to escape its restraints first…

He performed a combination of spells similar to the day before when Pierce asked everyone to give him and Fury a moment alone: he created a simulacrum to take his place while cloaking himself, and he slipped between the soldiers towards the creature and moved around to get a better look at the chains. Large they were, but they were only made of Midgardian steel. Loki summoned a dagger to his hand, and with a single motion, severed one of the links. The enormous hands immediately shifted under the chain. It could sense that they had weakened. Job done, Loki resumed his place, dispelled the simulacrum, and waited.

X

Queens

Barton had been right: with all the drones flying around it, the Stark Expo would have been difficult to miss. There was still a mile or so to go before they reached it, and the drones appeared to be swarming after two airborne figures. “Where shall I let you down?” Thor called over his shoulder.

“High rooftop, central location,” said Barton. “Once I’m in position, feel free to do your thing. Hey, Nat, I’m coming in with that backup for you.”

“Great,” said Romanoff’s voice. “Focus on the drones and clearing the park.”

“Who’s backup?” said Stark. “Are we talking more SHIELD agents or is this about that Avengers Initiative thing? Do we get the Hulk? Please tell me we get the Hulk.”

“Tony, focus!” said Rhodes.

“You still locked on?”

“Yeah.”

“Drop your socks and grab your Crocs; we’re about to get wet on this ride.”

“Wait, wait, wait!”

Thor watched as Iron Man and War Machine flew narrowly through a large hollow globe structure, against which six of the clumsier pursuing drones exploded. He pushed Mjolnir to go faster. Of his Earth friends, it had been the longest since he’d seen Stark—not that he’d had much time to interact with any of the others during the battle—and that was the first time someone other than him had mentioned Avengers. Perhaps by the end of the night, five of the original six would be back together, with Loki on the right side this time. How much longer would it take before they found Rogers?

“This is a good spot,” said Barton. Thor dropped them down carefully onto the indicated rooftop, where Barton unclipped the harness. Then he took flight again and slammed directly into a drone, knocking it out of the sky. It plowed into the pavement, narrowly missing several civilians. “Have you got a less messy strategy? I don’t think you’ll get that lucky twice.”

“Apologies,” said Thor. He spotted Iron Man just as War Machine collided with him in midair and they both fell through a glass dome not far from where he’d set Barton down. None of the drones were following yet, so Thor seized his chance. Perhaps they could draw all of them to that single location, as they had done with the Ultron bots. As he flew, he could hear a jumble of voices arguing over the comms. Something about Stark no longer being close to death, an omelette, and a ‘Hammeroid attack,’ which Thor had to assume was Allspeak having its usual difficulty with Stark’s creative turns of phrase.

Thor landed inside the dome not far from where Iron Man was pulling War Machine to his feet. They both faced him, their masks open. “Well met, Stark, Rhodes. I am Thor Odinson, and I am here on behalf of SHIELD to join your battle.”

“Uh…,” said Rhodes.

“Hey Romanoff, what’s the idea?” said Stark. “We don’t have time for Shakespeare in the Park.”

“What are you talking about?” said Romanoff.

“What’s going on?” said a voice Thor thought might be the lady Pepper. “Who’s there?”

“Some huge blond dude with a cape and a big-ass hammer,” said Rhodes.

“Trust me, he’s someone you want fighting on your team,” said Barton.

“Okay, and who are you now?” said Stark.

“That’s Agent Barton,” said Romanoff.

“Oh, a coworker of yours? He hasn’t already been working at Stark Industries for the last couple of weeks too, has he?”

“It might surprise you to know that SHIELD doesn’t entirely revolve around you,” said Romanoff.

“Uh, guys, this is fun, but you’re about to get dogpiled,” said Barton.

“We must make ready,” said Thor.

“Too late,” said Rhodes. The first of the drones landed inside the dome and was quickly joined by the rest. The masks on the suits closed over Stark’s and Rhodes’s faces.

“These are fun odds,” said Stark.

“I know a way to improve them,” said Thor. He raised Mjolnir high in the air, calling lightning to him, and directed it straight at Iron Man and War Machine. However, instead of humming with increased power, both suits toppled motionless onto the ground, while all around them, the drones began firing.

X

Harlem

About five seconds passed, and then the creature let out a roar and burst free of its chains. All of the actual soldiers yelled and fired their weapons at it. It merely laughed and got slowly to its feet. They all retreated a few paces as their weapons began to make hollow clicking noises, leaving Loki the only one standing within a ten-foot radius of it. This did not escape its attention. It laughed again. “Brave little soldier. You think you stand a chance? The Hulk ran away. There’s no one to save you now.” Its eyes flicked to Ross and it bared its teeth.

“The general is right, isn’t he?” said Loki loudly. He needed to make the creature more interested in attacking him than Ross and his men. Fortunately, that was something Loki was very practiced at. “You did this to yourself.”

“Get back, soldier!” said Ross. Loki and the creature both ignored him.

“I did,” said the creature, lumbering closer with a menacing grin. “And it is magnificent.”

“Oh,” said Loki. “I see. Then becoming a sexless golem was intentional. To each his own, but I’m not sure gaining bony spikes on one’s spine is a fair trade for the loss of genitalia. Or was there never anything between your legs to begin with?”

With a furious roar, it lunged for Loki, who leapt up, planted his boot on its head, and pushed off at an angle so that he would land facing its back. Before it could react, he plunged two Nidavellir daggers to the hilt in its lower spine. They slid in easily enough (unlike the noisy but completely ineffective weapons the mortals had used), and the roar became one of pain, but the creature did not immediately collapse, as anything whose spinal column had just been severed should. Apparently, he hadn’t cut deeply enough. It turned around and fixed him with its bloodshot glare.

“Oh, shit,” he said. He wasn’t fast enough to avoid being seized in one large hand, and then he was flying through the air. He went crashing through the stone column several yards away and came to a rolling stop somewhere amid the rubble.

“Loki!” said Coulson in his ear, sounding horrified. “Are you alright?”

“Not to worry,” he grumbled, getting to his feet and dusting off his clothing. The impact had dispelled his disguise. He noted irritably that he had acquired a few scrapes here and there. He had so wanted to still be in pristine condition when he met back up with his brother. “I did more damage to the column than it did to me.” If knives and a beating from the Hulk weren’t enough to finish this monster off, then he was going to need to try a different approach.

The creature was now bearing down on the mortals, so Loki reformed his disguise, seized the largest intact chunk of brick within reach, and lobbed it at its head. It struck its mark, and the creature halted and turned. Cupping his hands around his mouth, Loki did something he was glad Thor was not there to see. “IS THAT THE BEST YOU CAN DO?!” he shouted. He waited a few seconds to be sure it was angry enough to pursue him before turning tail and sprinting for the building he had dropped down onto moments before. “Heimdall?” he called as he scaled the metal steps back up to the roof.

“Heim-what?” said Coulson.

“Yes, my prince?” the familiar calm, deep voice replied in his head.

“You will have my eternal gratitude if you show me the precise location of the nearest Bifrost site.”

“What? Who are you talking to?”

“That’s quite the enemy you’ve found,” said Heimdall. “Looking for a quick escape?”

He glanced over his shoulder and saw that the creature was crouching in preparation for a leap that looked like it would carry it all the way up to the roof. It was certainly inconveniently quick on its feet. “Something like that.”

“The place is called Kingsbridge.”  

“How appropriate.” As he gained the rooftop and began sprinting across it, Loki’s immediate surroundings vanished, his vision taken over by Heimdall to show him the way across the city to a small park. A patch of ground at the center of a clearing glowed gold with the Bifrost’s designs. The effect ended just in time for Loki to leap to the next rooftop, and when he looked around, the creature was airborne right behind him. Somehow, he had to reach a point some six miles to the northeast before it could catch him, all without letting it kill any mortals. He hoped Thor was having much less fun, whatever he was doing. This was entirely his fault.

X

Queens

“What the hell was that, Thor?” said Barton’s voice in his ear. “Those are the guys you’re supposed to be helping!”

“What? But...but I thought I was helping!” Thor spluttered as he slammed his hammer into drone after drone, their primitive projectiles bouncing off his skin and armor like hail. These were far less impressive robotic foes than Ultron had been. “Stark! Rhodes! Are you well?”

“How could you possibly think hitting them with lightning would be helpful?” said Barton.

“I only thought to increase their power!” said Thor, flinging Mjolnir in a line so that it crashed through several more drones before returning to his hand. “The suits are powered by electrical energy, are they not?”

“Yeah,” Stark grunted. He was still lying facedown on the ground, so his voice was muffled, but he was plainly alive and unhurt. “Doesn’t mean lightning is healthy for ‘em.”

Thor felt completely wrongfooted. He’d supercharged various Iron Man suits numerous times since the skirmish over Loki that had been his and Stark’s first meeting. It had always worked!

“Maybe that was something you should’ve thought about before all these guys who fight using electricity showed up,” Rhodes muttered. He, too, sounded unharmed.

“Yeah, thanks,” said Stark. “It was already on the upgrade list, but I’ve been a little busy synthesizing a new element and not realizing Hammer Time here existed or that Vanko was still alive.”

Thor groaned before headbutting an approaching drone, sending it crashing into the far wall of the enclosure. He could have kicked himself for his folly. He had been so accustomed to the capabilities of Stark’s suits that it had never occurred to him his lightning might damage an earlier model, but he should have known better. Stark in the time Thor had known him had constantly been thinking of upgrades for his technology. It had been foolish to assume that the ability to convert electrical attacks into energy for the suit had always been part of the design.

“You have my deepest apologies,” he grunted while tearing the arms off another drone after hurling Mjolnir at two that had been aiming for Iron Man. “Are the suits damaged beyond repair?”

“Nope, I think it—yeah, booting up now. Welcome back, JARVIS.” Thor looked around and saw that crushed or dismembered drones littered their surroundings. Some still sparked or twitched, but none was intact enough to continue attacking. He helped Iron Man and War Machine to their feet.

“You took all those things down by yourself?” said Rhodes.

“Of course,” said Thor. “I want to help however I can.”

“Then you better get back out here,” said Barton. “I could use some eyes in the sky in case any of these drones gets up while we’re clearing out the civilians.”

“Hold up,” said Romanoff, “You got one more drone incoming. This one looks different. The repulsor signature is significantly higher.”

“Yeah, I see it. Not sure that’s a drone,” said Barton.

“Get going, Thunderstruck,” said Stark. “We got this.”

Thor nodded and whirled Mjolnir overhead.

X

The Bronx

To the creature’s obvious and very entertaining frustration, it was unable to lay hands on Loki again despite its superior speed. Whenever it drew too close for comfort, Loki simply ducked to the side and left a simulacrum running in his place. When the creature seemed to catch on to this strategy, he complicated it even further by using multiple copies. In this way, Loki was able to lead it mostly along rooftops or through deserted alleys towards Kingsbridge. But with all his tricks, he still only managed to gain about ten seconds on his enemy by the time he reached the spot Heimdall had shown him. He did not waste them. He reached into his dimensional pocket and withdrew six small throwing knives and flung them into the dirt in a circle, marking the edges of the Bifrost site. “Make ready, Heimdall,” he said.

“Yes, my prince.”

No sooner had Heimdall replied than the creature came crashing into the park. The few mortals in the vicinity screamed and fled, leaving them with no audience. There was also no sign of SHIELD’s flying craft, which was good. Loki didn’t want it anywhere near the area just now. He stepped forward out of the circle of knives.

“What are you?” said the creature. “Where did you get this power? What else has Ross been hiding from me?” There was as much greed in its eyes as there was anger.

“Oh, this didn’t come from Ross.” Loki grinned and shed his mortal disguise. Then, deciding to do the thing properly, he added his full ceremonial regalia. “I am Loki Odinson, God of Mischief, second prince of Asgard.” He raised his helmeted head high, the grin fading into a scornful sneer. “This power is my birthright. You could travel to the ends of the universe and never gain what I already possessed as an infant.”

The creature snarled and lunged—only to pass right through yet another simulacrum, which vanished, and go sprawling, its head, shoulders, and right arm landing inside the circle Loki had marked. A split second later, the brilliant column of energy came roaring down. The creature’s legs and left arm flailed briefly before going limp and beginning to shrink. The Bifrost ended, leaving its mark burned into the ground and three-quarters of a naked human corpse lying beside it.

Chapter Text

Triskelion

Pierce tossed onto the table a transparent bag containing two bloody Dwarf-forged daggers and a folder, from which numerous images spilled out. Most were of the Bifrost’s mark beside Blonsky’s corpse, but there were a few that showed the Bifrost itself, lightning striking the Stark Expo, and a laboratory containing nothing but a man whose head appeared to have exploded. “Well I can’t say I’m not impressed, but is this really your idea of building an alliance?”

“We completed our mission,” said Loki placidly. “I trust our work was satisfactory.”

“Satisfactory?” said Fury, who was standing beside Pierce with his arms crossed. “Tony Stark and James Rhodes are lucky to be alive. Dr. Banner is still in the wind, Coulson found Samuel Sterns dead in his empty lab, and the whole internet is buzzing about that pillar of light in Kingsbridge and the monster that chased a guy all across Manhattan.”

“In fairness to my brother,” said Loki, “he was not briefed on the capabilities of these ‘Iron Man’ suits, as our original assignment focused on Dr. Banner. He knew only what Agent Barton was able to tell him en route to the Stark Expo.”

X

Queens

Thor would have preferred remaining in the enclosure to assist Stark and Rhodes with the enemy he’d passed on the way out, but he could understand if they wanted him elsewhere for the moment. His blunder may not have harmed them physically, but their pride was another matter. They did at least seem to appreciate that he had taken apart the drones unassisted, so perhaps he had not lost too much ground with them.

He flew thrice around the park. Without the attacking drones and with the guidance of Barton’s colleagues and local authorities, the evacuation appeared to be going smoothly. However, Thor’s attention was caught by a small boy sitting on the steps of a pavillion. He wore a mask that resembled Stark’s, but had it pulled up away from his face, and he was rubbing tears away from his eyes with his fists. Thor landed and set Mjolnir down before approaching the child. He squatted down in front of him. “Are you alright?”

The lad looked up at him, his face the very picture of misery. “Wh-ho are you?” he asked, hiccupping.

“I am Thor Odinson. And you?”

“Pe-eter. Peter Parker.”

“Why do you weep? Are you hurt?”

“No,” he said. “I he-elped Iron Man fight those robots, but now I don’t know where my aunt and uncle are.”

“Well we must find them so you may tell them of your heroic acts!” said Thor. This earned him a shaky smile from Peter, which revealed at least three adult teeth that were only partially grown in. He reminded Thor of Leif Volstaggson, who was about two hundred—roughly the equivalent of this boy’s age for an Aes. “Here, climb up on my shoulders. Perhaps you only need more height to be able to see them, and I have plenty to spare.”

“Were you fighting too? Against the robots?”

“I was.”

“Then you’re on Iron Man’s side?”

“I am.”

“Okay,” said Peter. “I’m not supposed to talk to strangers, but if you fight on Iron Man’s side, then I think I can trust you.”

“You honor me, young warrior. I will not betray your trust.”

Peter giggled. Thor turned around and crouched down, and the boy clambered up his cape and sat on his shoulders.

They walked thus for a few minutes, Peter chattering all the time about how cool Iron Man was and how he’d known he would stop the evil robots from the start. Evidently this had been some kind of festival celebrating science and technology before all the chaos erupted, and Peter had begged his aunt and uncle for weeks to bring him until they finally agreed. Suddenly, there was a cry of “Peter!” from behind them.

Thor turned around, and Peter exclaimed in delight. “Aunt May! Uncle Ben!” A man and woman were running towards them. They looked about Stark’s age. The man’s wavy brown hair was graying at the temples and he wore a pair of spectacles, and the woman had tied her hair in a knot at the top of her head. Both appeared unharmed. Thor leaned forward and Peter leaped directly from his shoulders into their arms.

“Oh thank God!” said the woman between showering her nephew in kisses.

“We were so worried!” said the man, hugging them both. He looked up at Thor, at which point his mouth fell open.

“Aunt May, Uncle Ben, this is Mr. Odinson. He was fighting the robots with Iron Man, and then he helped me find you.”

“We can’t thank you enough,” said May. “We were getting hotdogs when those things attacked, and when I turned around, Peter was gone.” She looked at her nephew. “The next time there’s danger, you stay close, okay?”

“Okay, Aunt May,” he said, head drooping.

“Come on, we should’ve been out of here ten minutes ago,” said Ben.

“Yes, and I should report back to Barton,” said Thor. “Perhaps we will meet again one day.” He stepped back a few paces, summoned Mjolnir to his hand, and suppressed a grin at their astonished faces as he whirled it and threw himself into the air. No sooner had he done so than there was an explosion from the dome where he’d left Stark and Rhodes. He spun around in time to see glass and metal flying.

He hastily pressed his earpiece. “Stark! What happened?”

“Vanko’s down,” said Stark, but another voice in the background gave a feeble laugh and said, “You lose.” Suddenly, the chest pieces of the wrecked drones on the ground began flashing red and beeping.

“All these drones are rigged to blow,” said Rhodes. “We gotta get out of here, man.”

“This might be a good time for some of that lightning,” said Barton.

“Agreed,” said Thor. From here, he could see three of the drones. As the beeps and flashes increased in frequency, full-strength bolts of lightning struck, leaving blackened, inert husks behind. He moved on to find another pair of them and did the same. It was as far as he could get before the rest exploded, but only a few remained outside the dome. The worst damage was to the dome itself, which had already been empty.

“I was only able to deactivate five before they could explode,” said Thor.

“You did good,” said Barton. “From what I can see, no one was near the others. Ready to head back?”

“I would speak with Stark first.”

“Uh, now might not be the best time for that.”

Thor opened his mouth to ask why, but he had his answer as soon as he saw Stark. He was standing in most of his suit on a rooftop not far from the one Barton was positioned on, and he and the lady Pepper were enjoying a tender embrace. Thor let out a chuckle that turned to a full laugh when he spotted Rhodes standing nearby on the same roof, looking nonplussed. To give them a moment, he did one more flyover of the park, which was now empty of civilians, before circling back to Stark’s roof.

“You don’t have to do that. I heard the whole thing,” Rhodes was saying.

“You should get lost,” said Stark.

“I was here first!” said Rhodes. “Get a roof!”

Thor touched down a bit to the side of them, trying to be unobtrusive, but he immediately drew all three pairs of eyes onto himself. He grinned and gave a sheepish wave. “Hello. We did not have the opportunity to properly meet in the midst of the battle.”

“Yeah,” said Stark. He stared at Thor. “You two definitely see him?”

“Yep,” said Rhodes.

“Uh-huh,” said Pepper, whose arms were still around Stark’s shoulders.

“So what’s your deal?” said Stark. “Get struck by lightning at a Renaissance festival, ended up with superpowers?”

Thor laughed again. “No, and I think you will find the truth far stranger. I am Thor, son of Odin, Crown Prince of Asgard and God of Thunder, and I have come to Earth with my brother Loki to make allies of those who protect this world.”

“Hammer. Lightning. Ridiculous strength and durability. Flight,” said Stark. “Checks out.”

“Wait, you’re an alien?” said Rhodes. “The Norse Gods are real, and they’re aliens.”

“What?” said Pepper. “Aliens are real now too?” She looked like she’d had just about all she could take in the last few days.

“Indeed, my good lady,” said Thor, offering her a courteous bow. “We always have been.”

She let out a hysterical-sounding laugh and leaned against Stark.

“I thought aliens were supposed to be little and green,” said Rhodes.

“There are certainly many species with green skin,” said Thor. “The Cotati, the A’askavarii, the Zehoberei, the Makulans, the Skrulls—” He broke off when he noticed how wide Pepper’s and Rhodes’s eyes had gone. “However, we Aesir have the same range of skin and hair colors as the people of Earth.”

“Represent,” said Rhodes.

“Huh,” said Stark. “How come you speak English but it’s all formal and archaic? Did you miss the last few patches for your galactic translator?”

“I am not speaking English. I am using Allspeak, which is why I seem to you to be speaking your own tongue. I have been told by speakers of many languages across different worlds that the result sounds archaic. My brother understands the mechanics better. He could perhaps explain why that is.”

There was a long pause, one of the more uncomfortable ones Thor had experienced on Earth—that didn’t involve Darcy, anyway—and then Stark seemed to come to an abrupt decision. “Can’t say I don’t want to learn more about friendly space Vikings,” he said. “How about you drop by sometime. I’ve been thinking about schematics for that auto-charge upgrade. Should be able to whip it up in a couple days. You could help me give it a test run.”

“Yeah, and you totally came up with that before tonight,” Rhodes muttered.

“Hey, you stole my suit,” said Stark. “You don’t get to complain.”

“About that. My car got taken out in the explosion, so I’m gonna have to hang onto the suit for a minute, okay?”

X

Triskelion

“Stark and Rhodes are both unharmed,” said Thor, “and Stark has even invited us to visit his home.”

“Romanoff’s final report does indicate that the casualties would’ve been higher without your help,” Fury admitted.

“But your actual assignment—,” began Pierce.  

“—Has been completed,” Loki interrupted. “Our objectives were to keep Dr. Banner and the contents of the laboratory out of General Ross’s hands and, as a last-minute addition for which we were given no preparation, to prevent the transformed Captain Blonsky from killing any more civilians. All of this, we have done.”

“You needn’t be so modest, Brother,” said Thor, clapping Loki on the back. “Your success this night was far greater than mine.”

“The walls of that lab are coated in Sterns’s brains!” said Pierce.

“Not by my hand,” said Loki. “I noticed a recording device in the laboratory, similar to the ones here. Have you examined it?”

X

Harlem

“Clever plan, my prince.”

“I thought so,” said Loki.

“I would appreciate a warning the next time you intend to splatter my Observatory with blood and severed body parts.”

“Duly noted.” He felt very smug. It wasn’t merely that he had succeeded in leading the monstrous Blonsky to his death; the chase itself had also provided an excellent distraction. He’d only truly run the first mile of it, leaving a projection and simulacra to do the rest while he cloaked his real body and located the laboratory of Samuel Sterns. Major Sparr would soon regain consciousness in a completely empty facility, and neither Hydra nor Ross would have an opportunity to lay hands on any of these materials, as they would all remain safely tucked away in Loki’s dimensional pocket until he could find time to dispose of them.

“Now,” he said, “if you could direct me to Dr. Banner?”

“You haven’t quite finished where you are.”

This cryptic remark and a quiet sound behind him were all the warning he got. His hand shot out and closed around a wrist, and there was a yelp of surprise. Loki turned and saw that his would-be attacker was a short man who would have been thoroughly unremarkable had it not been for his grotesquely distended skull. He was holding some kind of needle in the hand Loki had caught, and had clearly been trying to stab it into his neck. “Drop it or I crush the wrist,” he said.

The fingers immediately opened and the needle clattered to the floor.

“Dr. Sterns, I presume,” said Loki. “If you wanted me to return your materials, you chose the wrong approach.”

Sterns’s eyes were suddenly alight with a maniacal gleam. Loki had the distinct impression that he was imagining cutting him open to see what his non-human innards were like. If he were not so utterly unthreatening, Loki might have found that unsettling. As it was, he merely felt disdain. And perhaps revulsion. “You—you’re not human,” said Sterns.

“Indeed not. But while I have never been, it would appear that you have only recently abandoned the designation.” The man’s head visibly pulsated, and he cringed and pressed his hands to it. “What have you done to yourself?”

“I’ve expanded my mind,” said Sterns, recovering from whatever pain he’d just experienced and cackling at his own dreadful wit. “I understand so much more than I did. I was like a child before.”

Loki watched him, his expression flat. A vein over Sterns’s enlarged forehead was throbbing in a rather diseased fashion. “It doesn’t look terribly stable.”

“This was the result of accidental contamination. I need—” He winced again. “—my materials to finish it. I know how to make it work now.”

“How unfortunate,” said Loki, folding his arms. “Because I will certainly not be giving any of those back to the one who tried to attack me and turned Blonsky into what he became.”

“Blonsky.” Sterns’s face split in a grin. “He’s spectacular, isn’t he?”

“How would you define spectacular? A rampaging beast who slaughters any innocents in its path?”

“They don’t matter,” said Sterns. “He’s above them now, just like we are. Just like Dr. Banner could be if he would just accept—” He broke off with a groan and fell to his knees, the pain in his head plainly becoming too much to bear.

“Superiority without compassion begets tyranny,” said Loki. It was something Odin had told his sons many times in their youth. “And in any case, Blonsky is dead.”

“What? How?” he panted. “What...did you do?”

“I used a carefully controlled spatial rift to cut him in two.” He walked towards the exit, unconcerned by the moans of pain and dismay behind him. “Enjoy the fruits of your hubris, Dr. Sterns. Perhaps, in your final moments, your enhanced intellect will enable you to discern precisely how you brought this upon yourself.”

X

Triskelion

“How can we trust what that footage shows when we now know you can make yourself invisible and send copies of yourself anywhere you want?” said Pierce.

“Examine the remains,” said Loki. “They will tell the same tale I have. If I am guilty of anything, it is allowing the man’s own actions to take their course. I chose not to restore his equipment to him. After cleaning up the consequences of his other experiment, I did not trust him to use it merely to save his own life.”

“Alright, but what about Banner?” said Fury. “According to Barton, there wasn’t a hint of green on him in the end, but you let him slip through your fingers.”

Thor and Loki glanced at each other, silently debating what they should say. Predictably, it was Thor who ultimately decided on the truth.

Chapter Text

Harlem

Loki quickly departed the bare laboratory and stepped out into the street, not particularly keen to be present for the moment when Sterns met his fate. By his guess, it would be rather messy. He didn’t bother to disguise himself; all the mortals in the vicinity were too preoccupied with the wreckage the creature had left in its wake to notice anything as inconsequential as unusual clothing.

“Loki?” said Coulson. “Did we lose you?”

“I’ve been to Dr. Sterns’s laboratory,” said Loki. “Do try to keep up.”

“We found what’s left of Blonsky. Effective, yet gross. Are you leaving the lab now? We still need to get his materials before Ross has a chance to requisition them.”

“Already taken care of,” said Loki. Some of the people he passed were in military garb, but they paid him no more mind than the civilians.

“What do you mean, ‘taken care of’?” said Coulson, the slightest hint of apprehension in his tone. Loki wondered what it would take to actually crack the man’s mild façade.

“There is nothing left for Ross to use. I have emptied the lab.”

“Emptied it how? It’s only been fifteen minutes. What, did you throw everything in a bag of holding?”

“Bag of—no, it’s in a dimensional pocket,” said Loki, puzzled by the term.

“Oh,” said Coulson. “Sounds handy. Can you fit anything in there?”

“The limits are set by how much energy one is willing to invest. Something I underestimated once as a boy.”

“What happened?”

“My mother found me unconscious and bleeding from the nose and ears beneath half the contents of the palace larder, which put paid to Thor’s and my plans to sneak off on a grand adventure that week.”

“I’m guessing you two were kind of a handful.”

“She certainly didn’t earn the title Goddess of Motherhood for nothing.”

“Well, ready to rendez-vous?”

“I still have an objective to complete. And you might want to drop by the lab in the meantime.”

“Why’s that? I thought it was empty.”

“Sterns is there. Blonsky isn’t the only one he experimented on, though he did say this was an accident.”

“Wait, what?” said Coulson, but Loki had removed his earpiece and dropped it into the dimensional pocket too.

“Heimdall?”

“Banner is traveling northwest,” said the Gatekeeper promptly. “You won’t be able to catch him on foot.”

“I never expected to. Have Thor meet me there, if he can.” With that, still in the middle of the street, Loki performed a spell that would have given any other mage from Asgard, Vanaheim, or even Alfheim great difficulty, but which he had been able to do as easily as breathing for as long as he could remember: he shifted his form, trading it for that of an Asgardian horned owl, and flew up over the buildings and into the open air.

X

Queens

Thor flew back to the rooftop where he’d left Barton, who grinned when he saw him. “That was a little shaky at first, but I think you stuck the landing okay.”

“Then you know it was not my intent to harm Stark or Rhodes?”

“Nah, you tore those drones apart like they were tin foil. I’m pretty sure you could kick all of our asses without breaking a sweat if you wanted to, but you didn’t.”

“Nor will I,” said Thor. “I would have all of you for friends, not merely allies.”

“I think I actually believe that,” said Barton.

Thor’s mouth fell open, then lifted in a delighted smile. “You do me a great honor, Agent Barton!” He moved forward and pulled Barton into a hug before the man could do more than grunt in protest.

“Yeah, yeah, put me down.”

Thor let go of him and stepped back. As he did, Heimdall’s voice sounded in his mind. “My prince, your brother requests that I relay a message to you.”

“Tell me the message,” said Thor. Barton frowned at him.

“He has defeated Blonsky and emptied the laboratory of Samuel Sterns, and he is now in pursuit of Dr. Banner.”

“I will help him,” said Thor. “Where is Banner?”

“Did your earpiece switch chan—holy shit,” said Barton. Thor barely noticed, for Heimdall had taken over his sight and was showing him the way to Banner. He was beyond the city and barreling through the forest to the northwest, still in Hulk form, with a helicopter hot on his heels. The vision vanished and his present surroundings reappeared, including a very alarmed-looking Barton.

“What was that?”

“My brother is closing in on the Hulk. I must go to him.”

Barton tapped his earpiece. “Nat, you got this? Thor and I have to get back to the other situation.”

X

Though the Hulk had covered at least another mile of forest by the time Thor flew with Barton to the place Heimdall had shown him, it was not difficult to track him farther, as he was leaving a wide trail of broken branches and overturned earth that was clearly visible from the air.

They weren’t near enough to see exactly what happened, but the helicopter must have become too vexing for Hulk to ignore, for the craft in the air ahead of them suddenly listed dramatically to the left. A second later, something large struck it, and it began spinning out of control and losing altitude. In another few seconds, they saw that it no longer had a tail, and the Hulk was on the ground, bellowing and brandishing an uprooted tree as though ready to hurl it at anything else that came after him.

Thor landed not far from the helicopter. “Help them!” he told Barton, jerking his harness free. The Hulk was stomping closer to the downed craft, and though Thor had hoped to make a friendlier first impression, there was nothing for it if those humans were to survive. Hoping to draw Hulk to the side, he threw Mjolnir so that it would clip him on the shoulder. It hit its mark, and Hulk’s gaze moved from the helicopter to Thor. He bared his teeth in a dully puzzled sort of grimace, but then Mjolnir struck him again on its way back to Thor’s hand. He roared and threw the tree in his hands. Thor didn’t move quickly enough, and the trunk caught him right in his middle, sending him tumbling over and over around it for about a hundred feet.

He tossed the tree aside and bounded to his feet, a grin on his face. He probably shouldn’t be enjoying this as much as he was, but he couldn’t help it. Now that he had Hulk’s attention, he wouldn’t be using Mjolnir, which surely made him look too much like a threat. There was no lullaby to calm Hulk at this point in time, but maybe an open offer of peace would still have some effect. And if not, perhaps this was an opportunity to prove that he would’ve won that tournament battle if it hadn’t been for the stupid obedience disk.

“Hulk!” he called. “I’m not here to hurt you! I only want to help you get away from Ross!”

The chance of words having any impact on Hulk was always a long shot, but the men in the helicopter chose that moment to prove they had survived by firing a round of bullets at him. He roared again and started towards them.

“No, you fools!” Thor yelled. “Barton, make them stop!” He ran as hard as he could. Hulk was mere yards from Barton and four battered, terrified soldiers clutching their weapons when Thor tackled him from the side.

X

Loki alighted on a large tree branch on the perimeter of the brand new forest clearing his brother and the green beast had created. He shifted back into his usual form and regarded the brawl with raised eyebrows. “Well I’m not getting in the middle of that,” he muttered. After a few moments, he noticed that Thor wasn’t using Mjolnir. It sat waiting at the center of the field while Thor mainly relied on his fists, and it swiftly became apparent that he did not have the upper hand without his hammer.

Resigned, Loki hopped down from the tree. Whether Thor was trying to prove that he could win against his former friend with strength alone or he was simply reluctant to harm him, this had gone on long enough.

X

Once more, Thor found himself on the ground, Hulk’s fists raining down on his head and torso. He was done holding back. Through the pain, he attempted to summon his lightning as he had done on Sakaar and again in the final battle against Hela. It wouldn’t come. He could feel it pulsing and crackling just beyond his reach, but try as he might, he could not touch it, and blow after blow continued to fall. The list of things he needed to discuss with Father was growing, but right now, there was nothing for it. He would have to summon Mjolnir.

“STOP!” cried a voice from somewhere off to the side, and Hulk actually stopped. He turned to face the voice. Thor rolled to the side and spat out some blood before looking up. A fair woman with dark hair and almost elfin features stood nearby—the woman Coulson had described in the briefing. Betty Ross.

Thor couldn’t help feeling a little petulant. “I was about to win, you know.”

“I’m sure you were,” Betty muttered, not taking her eyes off Hulk, who snarled and glared at Thor again. “Bruce, please! He’s not like the men who came after you. He’s a friend.”

Hulk glowered down at Thor, who managed a smile around his stinging split lip and held up his hands. Hulk turned to Betty. She walked closer and reached up to touch his face. “It’s okay,” she said. “They won’t chase you anymore.” She wrapped her arms around his enormous neck as best she could. To Thor’s amazement, Hulk began to shrink, the green receding from his skin.

X

When Bruce came to himself, his nose was full of the smell of Betty’s shampoo, and his arms were full of Betty. He stared over her shoulder in bewilderment at the wreckage of a forest around them. How did they get out of the city? Where were the general and his men?

“I’m sorry,” said Betty, gently disengaging from the embrace.

“For what?” said Bruce, hastily grabbing the waistband of his ruined pants so they wouldn’t fall to the ground.

She walked over to an enormous, long-haired blond man in leather armor and a cape, and pulled him easily to his feet with one hand. He brushed bits of grass and dirt off himself and offered Bruce a wincing, slightly bloody grin. Before Bruce could ask Betty who the hell this guy was, a green-gold shimmer passed over her. The next second, a 6’2” man with nearly the same coloring as Betty stood in her place, wearing...he didn’t even know how to describe it, except that it looked simultaneously more expensive and more anachronistic than any medieval costume he’d ever seen. “Forgive my deception,” said the man, “but it didn’t look like your fight with my brother was going to end anytime soon, and your alter-ego seems to respond well to Dr. Ross.”

“Where’s Betty?” said Bruce. “What did you do with her?”

“Nothing at all, I assure you,” said the man. “Her father had her escorted to a hospital because he didn’t want to listen to the excellent argument she was making. She’s perfectly safe.”

“Oh.” Much of his renewed feelings of hostility left him, replaced by confusion. “Then...how did you change your appearance and voice like that?”

“It was hardly as dramatic a change as yours,” said the man.

Annoyance joined confusion, but he was distracted when the blond man stuck his right hand out to the side and a ridiculously huge hammer flew into it, which he casually dropped onto a hook on his belt. “Who are you guys?”

“Thor and Loki Odinson,” said the blond man, wiping his mouth. “It’s an honor to meet you, Dr. Banner.”

Bruce stared around at all the splintered and uprooted trees in every direction. “Am I drugged in a lab somewhere and hallucinating? I thought I was fighting one of Ross’s guys in the city.”

“You were,” said Loki. “But you left him alive and conscious in the heart of the city, bound only by chains. Hardly a permanent solution. Is it common practice among Earth warriors to leave extremely dangerous and unreasonable enemies alive even when you lack suitable containment?”

“Uh...it’s not exactly a situation most people encounter,” said Bruce. “Or want on their conscience.”

“Terribly sloppy. You’ll be happy to know I rectified the situation.”

“I told you you’d be more than a match for that beast,” said Thor, grinning and punching Loki on the shoulder.

“Yes, whereas you ended up taking quite the beating.”

“I would’ve won!”

“Clearly debatable. And how about the Stark Expo?”

Thor looked sheepish. “I might’ve...nearly electrocuted Stark and Rhodes, but I did destroy many robots and helped a young boy find his family.”

“Well done,” said Loki sarcastically.

Something Loki had said finally penetrated Bruce’s confusion. “Wait a second, did you say ‘Earth warriors’? What does that make you?”

“We are not of this world,” said Thor. “We are the princes of Asgard. We’ve come to Earth to forge an alliance.”

“So I’m supposed to believe that two random guys with British accents and weird medieval fantasy outfits are really some kind of...of alien princes? Was the transformation thing some kind of trick?”

“There are many who say that everything I do is a trick,” said Loki. “Why do you think I am known as the God of Mischief? But surely this field of battle is proof enough of Thor’s identity.”

“Right,” said Bruce, adjusting his grip on his waistband. “Well, I’m kind of a fugitive from the military, so if you’ll excuse me…”

“To go where?” said Loki.

Banner stopped looking for the easiest path out of the destroyed forest and stared at him.

“The good people at SHIELD have told us about you, Robert Bruce Banner. You had purpose, respect, position. The love of a good woman. And all of that ended after one experiment gone wrong. All you have left is this power you do not want. You run from it as much as from those who covet it.”

As he spoke, Bruce’s irritation gradually gave way to a weary kind of tension. “What do you want?” he said.

“We want to help you,” said Thor.

“Help me?” Bruce repeated.

“We cannot restore what you have lost, nor can we free you from the curse your science placed upon you,” said Loki. “However, in a few days, Thor and I will return to Asgard. If you come with us, you will be far beyond the reach of your pursuers.”

Thor looked at Loki in surprise. “You want to take him home with us?”

“Why not? Coulson said SHIELD wanted to give Banner space. I see no reason why we shouldn’t take that literally.”

Bruce couldn’t help it. He burst out laughing. “Okay, this is all too crazy to be a lie any sane person would tell, so let’s pretend for a second I believe you guys. My own government has been chasing me for years. They want to do... this,” he gestured at himself, “to other people. Weaponize it. I’m betting they still do, even after what happened in the city.”

“You know Ross well,” said Loki. “But he may find he lacks the materials to achieve that ambition after tonight.”

“All the more reason for you to go where he cannot follow,” said Thor.

“You’re working with SHIELD? Why should I believe that a secret intelligence agency is trying to protect me from the military? Why should I believe that a couple of aliens are trying to protect me from the military?”

“Because, my dear doctor,” said Loki, “Asgard already has more than enough berserker warriors. Our science and technology are aeons ahead of yours. There is nothing new you can show us. I cannot vouch for SHIELD, but you would not have to answer to them on Asgard either.”

“As a royal guest,” said Thor, “you would be as free to roam as any citizen, you would have access to the kind of knowledge your world’s scholars will take millennia to amass, and you will have the peace of knowing that your surroundings are durable enough to withstand an unexpected rampage.”

“What is more,” said Loki. “You would have full control over your Mr. Blue’s illicit equipment and materials.” He flicked his hand, and something appeared in it, which he tossed to Bruce, who managed to catch it despite his surprise. It was one of the bags of blood from Sterns’s lab. “It will be yours to use or destroy as you see fit.” He waved his hand again and the blood bag vanished in a flash of greenish-gold light.

Bruce stared at the two of them. He was still struggling to believe that this was real, despite the evidence. If there had just been two alien princes who wanted to use him like everyone else did, that would have been easy enough to swallow, but the possibility of freedom and no longer being a danger to everyone around him? His situation had been enough to make him eat a bullet. Or try to. His throat felt tight and his chest ached. Did he dare let himself hope?

“Wouldn’t you like to be able to stop running,” said Loki, “at least for a little while?”

Bruce didn’t answer. He was torn. It would be completely insane to trust them, but he had never wanted anything as badly as what they offered.

“You don’t have to decide right now,” said Thor. “We will find you when we are ready to return home, and you can give us your answer then.”

“Perhaps I could make it a bit easier for you to evade the general’s clutches in the meantime?” said Loki.

“What do you mean?” said Bruce warily.

“Nothing too dramatic,” said Loki. “You’d still look like a mortal man, and it wouldn’t be permanent.”

X

Triskelion

“I still fail to see the problem,” said Loki, once Thor finished his account. “Agent Coulson told us that SHIELD wanted to keep Banner and the materials and research of Samuel Sterns out of General Ross’s hands. All of this, we have done. If you had different plans, how were we to know?” He met Alexander Pierce’s gaze with a perfectly bland expression. He could almost hear the man’s blood pressure rising.

“You can’t deny that offering to take Dr. Banner and all that research off-world is a pretty damn unorthodox way of fulfilling your objective,” said Fury.

“And you can’t deny that it is an effective one,” Loki retorted.

Fury glared at him for a second or two, then let out a chuckle.

“Nick,” said Pierce. His tone carried restraint and warning.

“What, Pierce? We wanted them to prove they were our allies, not our tools. I’d say that’s exactly what they did. From where I’m sitting, they’re already more reliable than Stark, and Coulson and Barton both vouched for them. If Banner wants to go to Asgard, that’s his choice, and I like that idea much better than having to keep doing damage control whenever Ross gets too close to him.”

“How is Banner supposed to protect Earth against its enemies if he isn’t on it?” said Pierce.

“How can any of us ask for Banner’s aid in the coming battles if we have done nothing for him?” Thor shot back. “My brother and I have offered him a place to learn control without fear of pursuit or of doing further harm. He can return whenever he likes, and he will be free to bring with him any knowledge he gains from Asgard when he does.”

This seemed to give Pierce pause—though Loki suspected it was more because he couldn’t think of an argument against it than that he actually agreed. “And what about Sitwell’s report?” he said.

“What about it?” said Fury. “It didn’t contradict anything in Coulson’s or Barton’s.”

“No,” said Pierce, “but he had concerns about their habit of speaking a language we can’t understand when they talk to each other.”

It was a weak argument, and even Pierce seemed aware of it. Of course, if he knew that Thor and Loki hadn’t merely been speaking their native tongue, but were deliberately communicating in a way no one else would understand so that they could discuss how to handle him and the other Hydra operatives, he might have been more confident in his objection.

“I’d like to move forward with this,” said Fury.

Pierce kept his reaction down to a grimace as he got to his feet. “Fine. It looks like I need to brief the World Security Council on our new alliance.” He shot Thor and Loki a tight smile and left the room.

“It will be our honor to fight alongside the warriors of Earth, Director Fury,” said Thor. “We will be sure to inform you when we know more about the movements of the Dokkalfar army or the Mad Titan.”

“Yeah, about that,” said Fury. “Now that I’ve got a pretty good idea of what you guys can do, I’d like to talk to you about the Avengers Initiative.”

Loki fully expected that Thor would be so excited to hear Fury utter those words that he would have to throw up an illusion to keep him from ruining all semblance of pretense, but he was wrong. “Before you do,” said Thor, who looked as serious as Loki had ever seen him, “I must request something of you that you will not like, but please believe that it is only a request, not a threat, and I make it in the hope of sparing the Earth from great destruction and suffering in the coming years.”

“What’s that?” said Fury, arching an eyebrow.

“Our father battled the Mad Titan long before we were born,” said Thor, and Loki suddenly knew where Thor was going with this. He was not at all sure it was wise, but there was nothing he could do about that now. “It was a long, bloody war, and it ended with Thanos in retreat. The reason they fought was that Thanos coveted one of Asgard’s treasures. The Tesseract. One of the six Infinity Stones he seeks.”

“Those things you said he would use to destroy half the universe?” said Fury.

“Yes,” said Thor. “After the war, Father hid the Tesseract away on Earth, among primitive mortals who could not use it, where Thanos would never think to seek it. I fear it is no longer safe here, but more importantly, Earth is not safe as long as it remains. It has been disturbed by humans, and it will call Thanos to it like a beacon. He has been marshalling his forces and planning for another attempt on it since his defeat at Odin’s hands, and soon he will come for it with his armies.”

“So where does this big request of yours come in?” said Fury.

“Allow us to return the Tesseract to Asgard. With it gone, Thanos will have no reason to attack Earth, and our defenses will be strong enough to deter him until we can find a safer hiding place for it.”

Loki kept his eyes on Fury with difficulty. Thor was lying. Loki was astonished—not least because he was actually doing a passably good job of it. But where was the deception? It was true that Thanos would be less interested in a world that held no Infinity Stone...unless the Tesseract wasn’t the only one on Midgard?

Fury looked thoughtful. “I could pretend I don’t know what or where this Tesseract of yours is, but I think that would be a waste of all of our time. Shiny blue cube, about yea big?” He held his hands a few inches apart.

Thor nodded.

“You know, a very dangerous man got a hold of that thing a few decades ago and wreaked a lot of havoc with it,” said Fury. “Why wasn’t Asgard interested in getting it back then?”

“I assume you’re referring to Johann Schmidt,” said Loki. “He came up in a few of our council meetings. Asgard was prepared to act, but our aid proved to be unnecessary after Schmidt was thwarted by some of your own soldiers.”

“I’m sure you and your people have far purer intentions than he did,” said Thor, “but that is immaterial. If you are using it, Thanos can find it.”

“It wasn’t just Schmidt,” said Fury, his eye narrowing. “You mentioned the Kree the other day, but I didn’t see any Asgardians sixteen years ago when the Kree came looking for the Tesseract and fired missiles at this planet.”

“You know of that?” said Thor, surprised.

“I was just a supervising officer back then, but I was there,” said Fury, folding his arms and leaning back in his chair.

“Ronan the Accuser committed a gross violation of intergalactic rules of engagement that day,” said Loki. “Asgard was mobilizing to Midgard’s defense the moment his ships arrived, but shortly after raising the alarm, our Gatekeeper reported that the threat was gone.”

“Successful or not, that attack was an act of war, and war was what we were ready to give the Kree,” said Thor. He had been nearly as furious and impatient for battle then as when his coronation had been disrupted. It hadn’t been the first time the Kree Accusers tested Asgard’s restraint. 

“Yes,” said Loki. “But for the Kree, war with Asgard would have meant war with the Nova Empire as well—neighbors of theirs with whom they were hostile and we have long had a cordial relationship. They proposed to sever all ties with the one responsible for the attack, submit to trade restrictions, and cease their harassment of several Nova holdings in exchange for clemency. Our father accepted, and afterward, we set up protections around the jump points near Earth to dissuade others from attempting a similar attack.”

Fury watched them silently for a long moment. Then he sighed. “Even if you’re telling the truth, I can’t just hand the Tesseract over to a couple guys who showed up two days ago.”

“We are happy to give you as much time to consider as you require,” said Loki. “But bear in mind that Thanos will not be so generous.”

Chapter Text

When Stark had first tossed out his offhand invitation, Thor had imagined there would be revelry like at Avengers Tower before Ultron’s initial attack, with many future Avengers and prominent SHIELD agents present. However, with Barton and Romanoff on assignment, Banner on the run, and Rogers under the ice, it was only Thor, Loki, and Coulson who set out for Stark’s clifftop mansion the day after the debriefing, and they found the place mostly silent.

Thor had never been to his friend’s home in the original timeline, as it had already been destroyed by the time he was spending more than a few days at a stretch on Midgard. As strange as mortal dwellings usually were, this round, precariously perched cement structure was in a class all of its own—which meant that it suited Stark rather well.

As they crossed the odd front garden, beams of blue light flashed briefly over their faces and they were greeted by a familiar voice. “Good afternoon, gentlemen. I am JARVIS, Mr. Stark’s user interface computer system." Thor’s excitement at hearing Vision’s voice died a swift death. He should have realized. It was only Stark’s artificial manservant. It might not even be possible to create Vision in this timeline, as long as Thanos was in possession of the Mind Stone. But that also meant Ultron would not be created and Sokovia would remain intact. “Please, come in. Mr. Stark is just putting the finishing touches on the latest series of upgrades.”

The glass door opened on its own and they walked inside. Thor assumed that this must normally be quite a nice place for Stark to live, but at the moment it was almost more rubble than house. A robot was wheeling around the area overlooking the sea, picking up pieces of broken wall and floor and placing them in a large container. It froze upon their approach, the fingers of its single appendage opening and closing in their direction. From this angle, Thor could read the word “dunce” on the conical hat it wore. He guffawed, and the robot’s arm wilted a bit and it buzzed in a despondent sort of way.

“Was this house recently attacked?” said Loki.

“Mr. Stark and Colonel Rhodes had a minor disagreement after Mr. Stark’s birthday festivities,” said JARVIS. “Also, Mr. Stark preferred to construct his own particle accelerator on the premises rather than seeking more suitable facilities.”

“Maybe that was because SHIELD put him on house-arrest,” said Coulson.

“Considering that he broke your perimeter more than once before completing his work, I would not be so certain,” said JARVIS.

Coulson seemed mildly annoyed by this, but didn’t comment. Loki might have, except that a pair of voices were now drifting towards them from deeper in the house.

“—Still can’t believe you let Justin Hammer put his dainty, callus-free charlatan hands on my suit.”

“You could’ve just told me you wanted me to have it instead of pushing me and everyone else away.”

“That’s true. Not my best moment. I’ll try to be less immature the next time I’m dying. But come on, did you really think you could have just climbed into the Mark II if it wasn’t already calibrated for you to use? I practically gift-wrapped it for you, and—”

“Well who am I supposed to have weaponize the suit for military use when you’re no longer our weapons contractor?”

“It didn’t need to be weaponized!” Stark and Rhodes came into view, still bickering.

“Oh really? I thought it was a ‘high-tech prosthesis’, not a weapon,” said Rhodes.

Stark opened his mouth, then hesitated, catching sight of his guests. “...Legally, I can’t contradict that.” He clapped his hands together. “Agent Coulson. Thought you got reassigned. Couldn’t stay away?”

“I’m here with them,” said Coulson. “I’m the Asgardian attaché now.”

Stark’s nose twitched. “Sounds official. Thunderstruck, good to see you again.”

“And you as well,” said Thor, beaming. He hoped very much that Stark would stick with this particular nickname. He knew its origins from the original timeline, and he vastly preferred it to Point Break.

“Is leather armor as casual as you get, or is this an eternal vigilance thing?” said Stark.

“Asgardian leathers are quite comfortable, I assure you,” said Thor. “I do prefer them to cloth most of the time, though are we not to spar later?”

“I guess so,” said Stark, giving Thor a look like he couldn’t quite figure him out. Then his gaze shifted to Loki, and Thor immediately stepped closer to him, his smile widening.

“Allow me to introduce my brother, Loki Odinson, Prince of Asgard and God of Mischief.”

It was a bit more introduction than he usually offered, and based on the funny look Loki shot him, that hadn’t gone unnoticed, but he stuck out his hand to clasp forearms with Stark and Rhodes nonetheless. “Well met, Mr. Stark, Colonel Rhodes. Thor has spoken highly of you both.”

“Thanks, man,” said Rhodes.

“Heard about what went down in Harlem while your big bro was busy electrocuting us in Queens,” said Stark. Thor had to suppress a squawk of protest, knowing very well how Stark liked to goad people and that he rarely did so with any real rancor. “I’m guessing it was you who chopped that roid rage monster in half with a wormhole.”

“It seemed the expedient solution when stabbing it proved less fatal than I’d hoped,” said Loki. Thor could tell he was pleased—it must have taken Stark some effort to acquire that much information about those events. He could have jumped up and down on the spot like a child, he was so excited. His plans were working! Loki was going to be an Avenger, and the other Avengers were going to welcome him!

“Kinda flashy,” said Rhodes, “but zero casualties over that kind of distance against such a destructive opponent? That’s some impressive work.”

“I would have been satisfied with nothing less,” said Loki, with a slight nod to Rhodes.

“So can I get you guys anything?” said Stark, turning and beginning to lead the way back in the direction from which he and Rhodes had come. The rest of them followed. “Roast boar? Barrel of mead?”

“You have those?” said Loki, whom Thor knew was as tired of the Triskelion’s mess hall as he was.

“No,” said Stark, “but I’m a billionaire. I can get whatever food I want. JARVIS?”

“I’ve contacted a catering company, sir. They will be here in an hour.”

“Great. Should give us enough time to run the tests.”

X

The time between their arrival at the mansion and the arrival of the first decent food they’d eaten on Midgard was spent alternating between Stark’s workshop and the courtyard. Thor would strike a suit of Stark’s armor with lightning, and Stark would then assess the effects and return to the workshop for further tinkering and calibration. Within the first two tests, the suits were absorbing the electricity effectively, but Stark would clearly be satisfied with nothing less than perfection.

The technology was barely noteworthy to Loki. It might be merely centuries behind Asgard’s, rather than millennia behind like nearly everything else on this realm, but it was still obsolete and limited to what could be done without seidr. No, he was far more interested in watching Stark’s mind at work than he was in the technology itself. Stark was a man who could have sat back and lived at the height of his world’s comfort and luxury without ever lifting a finger, and yet he seemed positively hungry to dive in and perform the manual labor with his own two hands, and he was obviously a courageous warrior as well. Failure was merely an interesting problem to be solved, rather than a source of discouragement, and he was not so set in his ways as to be incapable of adapting.

Loki compared what he observed of this man with Bruce Banner, who had gained a terrible power by mistake but had no interest in using it for his own benefit. He sought instead to keep it out of the hands of those who would abuse it, and he sacrificed his own hopes and happiness to protect others from the damage he could wreak.

It was easy to understand why a more humble Thor valued Stark’s and Banner’s companionship so highly, even outside of their worth on the battlefield. This realization might have given rise to envy, except for the way Thor was so transparently keen for Loki and Stark to befriend each other. It was actually starting to be annoying, but just as the urge to stab was rising, Rhodes unwittingly intervened. “How fast can you fly using that hammer?” he asked.

“I’ve never really measured it,” said Thor, running a hand through his hair. “The only thing faster on Asgard is our father’s eight-legged stallion, Sleipnir.”

“You must be proud,” said Stark with a wry glance at Loki.

Loki’s expression flattened. This was one of the reasons Midgard was among his least favorite realms to visit. “Why, because I supposedly gave birth to him?”

Rhodes, who had just raised a glass of mead to his lips, spat a mouthful of it all over the War Machine suit. Coulson merely gave a light cough and lifted his eyebrows.

“I would not set much store by what your tales say of us, Stark,” said Thor, slapping him on the back. He managed to do it delicately enough not to knock the man on his face, but he still winced. “Our uncles presented Sleipnir to Odin when he came of age, long before he even met our mother.”

“Uh, great,” said Rhodes, having hastily wiped the mead off his suit. “So, wanna have a race?”

“Of course!” said Thor brightly.

“I’ll referee,” said Coulson, and before Loki knew it, he was alone in the workshop with Stark.

“Anything else you think you already know about me?” he asked testily. If Stark uttered so much as a word about a game of tug-of-war or a goat, he was definitely going to stab him, frail mortal or not.

“Nah, never really got into Norse mythology, but that part sticks out.” He had served himself a plate of roast boar and an assortment of greens, but was too busy tinkering with the boot of one of his suits to pay it any attention. “What does it mean to be the God of Mischief?”

Loki relaxed slightly. “Mostly it means thinking of unconventional solutions, going places and learning things I shouldn’t, and making fools of those who think too highly of themselves.”

“Sounds like a good time,” said Stark. “Hand me that ratchet?” He pointed at one of the numerous tools lying on a table closer to where Loki was standing. Loki flicked a finger and the thing shot into Stark’s hand. Stark was so focused on his task that it took a few seconds for him to realize what had just happened. Then he froze, staring at the ratchet. “Did you just—?”

“What?” said Loki innocently.

“You can move stuff with your mind?”

“When I’d rather not use my hands.”

“How? Some kind of implant or cognitive interface?”

Loki frowned at him. That sounded barbaric. “No, with magic.”

“Magic as in technology so advanced I wouldn’t understand it?” said Stark. “Don’t patronize me, man. I synthesized a new element this week.”

“Magic as in seidr,” said Loki. “True aptitude and mastery are rare, but it is an inborn ability the Aesir and many other long-lived races possess in some form, which allows us to exert our will on reality. Thor has the most powerful raw elemental seidr I’ve ever seen, but he never had the patience to learn to shape it into anything else, or perhaps it’s simply too unwieldy for it.”

“Yeah, yeah, that’s great, but how does it work? You can’t just say something’s magic and that you’re born with it or you’re not. That doesn’t explain anything. What are the principles behind it? Do the laws of conservation of energy and mass apply, or are those not even universal laws at all? Is it biological, mechanical, psychosomatic? Does it have something to do with string theory? Please don’t tell me it involves midichlorians.”

Loki gaped at him. This was not the reaction he had expected. Generally, when he did magic in front of mortals, they were bewildered, impressed, and sometimes frightened. The results tended to be quite amusing. The more inquisitive, like Coulson, might be interested in seeing what else he could do. But not only had no mortal ever asked how it worked, he had never even so much as considered it in all his centuries of study, nor was he aware of anyone else who had. To the Aesir, seidr simply was. Loki knew exactly how much power he had at his disposal, how to ration it out for what he wanted to accomplish in any given situation, and how long it would take him to recover. He had learned thousands of spells and devised hundreds of his own. Seidr was as integral a part of him as his own heartbeat. And yet he had not the faintest notion of what made this wondrous power work. As far as he knew, no one in the nine realms did.

He became dimly aware that Stark was still spouting questions. Unable to answer them and unable to think through his bafflement with the noise, Loki waved his hand and focused briefly on his intended spell. His seidr responded as it always did, regardless of this intellectual upheaval, and Stark yelped as a green-gold glow enveloped him.

X

The earliest Pepper was able to get away from Stark Industries was mid-afternoon, but to be fair, she rarely tried to get away early. Her life had gotten so crazy lately that she might as well be at Tony’s house while he entertained a guest from another planet. Work, even in the role of CEO, was the only semi-normal thing she could hang onto.

She half-expected Tony to have thrown another party, so it came as a relief when the only extra car parked outside was one of those sleek, sturdy black SUVs with tinted windows that the SHIELD guys all seemed to love. She saw Agent Coulson standing near the edge of the cliff. She squinted. What was he doing? She hoped he hadn’t been out here for long. Tony might’ve decided to lock him out in retaliation for the house-arrest.

“I’m gonna head inside,” she said. “Can you talk to Agent Coulson and see if he needs anything?”

“Sure thing, boss,” said Happy, eyes twinkling at her in the rearview mirror. She smiled back. He still wasn’t over her being CEO, and he made a point of proudly calling her “boss” at every opportunity.

Inside, DUM-E was still picking up pieces of rubble. Pepper wondered what it had done this time to earn the dunce cap. She made her way downstairs, intrigued by the delicious smells. What kind of food had Tony ordered? She walked into the workshop and froze. Instead of Tony, Thor, and probably James, she found only one unfamiliar black-haired man in strange green and black clothes with gold trim, standing next to a table piled with food.

“Uh...JARVIS?” said Pepper nervously. Immediately, there was a loud squeaking sound, and she looked around in time to see a small animal pelting towards her. She shrieked and jumped back. It stopped in its tracks, and maybe she was losing it, but she could have sworn it looked hurt by her reaction.

“Good afternoon, Ms. Potts,” said JARVIS.

“What the hell is going on?” said Pepper.

“Mr. Odinson seems to have turned Mr. Stark into a flying squirrel.”

Chapter Text

Pepper stared at the squirrel, her mouth falling open. She should probably be freaking out, but she found that after the madness of the last two weeks, she simply didn’t have the energy for it. She looked warily at the man standing across the room, who still hadn’t so much as glanced at her. “Are you Loki Odinson?” Tony had found out some information about Thor and his brother since the showdown at the Expo, and this man certainly wasn’t the Mr. Odinson she had already met.

He finally looked around. “What? Oh, yes.” He seemed very distracted. “And your name, good lady?”

This chivalry in the face of the squirrel sitting on the floor in front of her, tail and whiskers quivering, made everything even more surreal. “Uh. Pepper Potts. I’m the CEO of Stark Industries.” Considering that she had no idea why Tony was now a squirrel, she decided against mentioning her personal involvement with him.

“My brother mentioned you when he told me of the battle at the Stark Expo. It is a pleasure to meet you.”

“You too,” said Pepper, closing her eyes in the hopes that maybe when she opened them again, everything would make sense. It did not. “You—you turned Tony into a flying squirrel?”

“I did.”

“And...uh...why did...you do that?”

“He was talking.”

Tony the squirrel gave an indignant squeak.

“Don’t worry; the spell is harmless,” said Loki. “I’ve already explained that to him, which is why he’s no longer chattering incessantly and gnawing on my boot.”

Pepper sighed and walked forward. “You know,” she said, bending down and carefully scooping Tony up, “there are a lot of people who probably wish they could turn him into a small animal, including a few generals and at least one senator. This is just the first time he’s met someone who could actually do it.”

Pepper scratched Tony lightly behind his ears. He seemed to enjoy it, but as soon as she was close to the food table, he jumped out of her hands and landed beside the salad, from which he snatched a crouton and began munching on it. He had soon filled his cheeks with pieces of crouton, and once his paws were free, he jumped and glided over to his disassembled suit. Pepper stood next to Loki and watched Tony struggle to maneuver a small screwdriver (which was almost the full length of his body) towards something on the gauntlet of his suit.

X

Even after spending the last few days with the Odinsons, Coulson would have bet on Colonel Rhodes to win the race. It was still difficult to imagine a man flying by hammer at all even though he had witnessed it, but breaking the sound barrier was something else entirely. And yet, after about ten minutes of soaring out over the ocean, Thor beat Rhodes back to the clifftop by a full ten seconds, a huge grin on his face.

“Damn,” said Rhodes, opening his mask. “Even with the lightning boost, I still couldn’t catch you. How do you do that?”

Thor laughed. “It was a worthy contest, Rhodes, but I’ve been flying far longer than you.”

“So this is Thor?” said Mr. Hogan, who had stood beside Coulson with his hands cupped around his eyes to block out the sun as he tried to watch the race. Coulson watched Thor go through another jovial introduction that soon had Mr. Hogan looking less grumpy than the SHIELD agent had ever seen him. Thor was really a ridiculously easy guy to like. Coulson was glad he’d beaten Sitwell to the attaché assignment, and not just because he no longer had to babysit a billionaire pain in the ass as a result.

The four of them made their way inside the house and down to the workshop, where Coulson frowned at the sight of Miss Potts standing next to Loki. They both had their arms folded and their heads tilted to the side, staring intently at the suit Stark had been working on when everyone else left for the race.

“Hey, Pepper. What’s going on? Where’s Tony?” said Rhodes, while Mr. Hogan made straight for the food table.

Neither Miss Potts nor Loki answered, and Thor, Rhodes, Hogan, and Coulson all followed their gazes to...a squirrel that appeared to be attaching wires to a circuit board beneath the outer armor layer of a piece of the Iron Man suit. Coulson didn’t know a whole lot about rodents, but he was pretty sure they were usually more interested in chewing through wires than clipping them into place.

“What the hell?” said Hogan.

“Loki…,” said Thor. He sounded both stern and apprehensive.

“What?” said Loki. He sounded both defiant and amused.

It all clicked together, and Coulson let out a peal of laughter that made Hogan, Rhodes, and Miss Potts all jump, but he couldn’t stop. He didn’t think he’d ever laughed harder in his life. Tears streamed down his face and his ribs ached. Tony Stark was a flying squirrel. This was the best day of his life.

“I don’t get it,” said Hogan. “What’s so funny?”

“Change him back,” said Thor.

“Why?” said Loki. “I think he’s making better progress with those little paws than he would otherwise at the moment. I would hate to impede his work.”

“Wait…,” said Rhodes. “Are you saying that’s Tony?”

With a long-suffering sigh, Loki waved a hand in the squirrel’s direction. Green-gold light shone around his fingers before engulfing the small creature and growing rapidly into the shape of an adult man, and then Tony Stark was standing there amid pieces of his suit, looking exactly as he had when Coulson had left with Thor and Rhodes.

Rhodes and Hogan yelled and jumped back. Coulson, who had nearly regained his composure by that point, fell victim to a second wave of hysterical laughter. Miss Potts looked like she was trying not to do the same.

Stark himself was glowering at Loki. “Not cool, dude. Couldn’t you see I was in the middle of something?”

“I told you,” said Loki to Thor, who rolled his eyes.

“And you’re okay?” said Miss Potts, closing the short distance between them and running her hands over his shoulders and upper arms.

“I’m fine.” He blinked hard and looked around. “Squirrel vision kinda sucks. Not gonna miss that.”

X

To Thor’s surprise and relief, Stark took Loki’s prank fairly well. Far better, in fact, than had Thor himself or any of their friends on Asgard, each of whom had fallen victim to a similar spell at various times over the centuries. Unlike them, Stark apparently found the experience too interesting to be humiliated by it, no matter how hard the son of Coul had laughed at him.

They stayed a while longer, until everyone had eaten their fill of the excellent food and drink, and when it came time to part company, they did so in good spirits.

“Don’t get too cocky about that race,” said Rhodes. “I expect a rematch the next time you’re on Earth.”

“Of course,” said Thor, grinning. “I will be happy to win again.”

“Oh, I see how it is,” said Rhodes, chuckling. “Tony, you better make me a faster suit so I can teach this guy a lesson.”

“I let you borrow a hand-me-down one time and now you expect me to make you a suit? I’ve created a monster,” said Stark. He turned to Loki. “You find out those answers about how magic works, you better come tell me.”

“I will,” said Loki. “I am glad to have met you, Anthony Stark.”

“Thanks,” said Stark. “Never thought I’d hear that from a guy who turned me into a squirrel. You gotta work on your friendly overtures.”

Loki laughed—a sound Thor had heard far too rarely of late. “You are not the first to tell me so.”

X

“You can’t be serious, Nick” said Pierce.

“Oh, I am very serious,” said Fury.

“Not only are you going to let these guys take Bruce Banner with them, you’re going to hand over one of the only other things we’ve got that we could use against hostile aliens?”

“They’ve already proven that they can wipe the floor with the best fighters Earth has, and that’s only two of them. The cube wouldn’t be enough, and they know more about it than we do. We can either give it to them and hope they make good on their promises to protect this planet, or we can hold onto it and hope that Thor was lying about it being a magnet for world-destroying alien warlords. Except that we can’t really hope he was lying, because that would mean he and Loki are the world-destroying alien warlords. It’s our only way forward, Pierce.”

“You’re taking an awful lot on faith.”

Fury gave a grim chuckle. “What else can we do when we’re dealing with gods?”

“And what does Earth get out of this except protection from a vague future threat?”

“I’m not sure we can really call it ‘vague’ after all the intel they gave us on Thanos and Malekith and their armies, and I’d think protection from very real future threats we can’t hope to defend against on our own would be worth quite a lot.”

“We still have no actual proof they didn’t just make these threats up to manipulate us. They hold all the cards.”

“For now,” said Fury. “I have something in mind that might put a few cards in our hand. How they react to it should tell us a lot.”

X

The morning brought with it a message for Thor and Loki from Heimdall that the Queen expected Odin to awaken by that evening. Coulson was visibly crestfallen when they told him this might be their last day on Earth for a while. He brought them to the same briefing room as before, where they found Fury waiting for them again. There was a large silver briefcase on the table in front of him.

“I’ve decided to grant your request,” said Fury. He opened the briefcase, the contents of which bathed his face with blue light. He turned it to face them, revealing the Tesseract. Even though this was the outcome Thor had hoped for, he had to fight a sudden impulse to take the thing and hurl it into the nearest star. Was he mad to want the Tesseract on Asgard, to serve as bait for Thanos like the Aether had been for Malekith? Perhaps. But mad or not, it was the right thing to do. It should be Asgard’s fight, not Earth’s.

“Thank you,” he said. “We will do everything in our power to live up to the trust you have placed in us.”

“That’s good!” said Fury with a trace of sardonic humor. “I thought you might start today.”

“How so?” said Loki.

“I want to send a few extra people with you. A delegation from Earth so that we can begin broadening our understanding of the universe.”

“Of course,” said Thor, smiling. “We will welcome them gladly.” He hoped Fury wouldn’t inadvertently send any Hydra agents, but they would be so outmatched by even Aesir children that they would hardly pose a threat anyway.

“How many will you send?” said Loki—if not enthusiastically, at least politely.

“On a more long-term basis, just three, but if you’ll agree to it, I’d like two SHIELD agents to be able to come and go as needed.”

“That sounds reasonable enough,” said Thor.

Fury touched a button on the table. “You can come in now.”

The conference room door opened, and Thor froze at the sight of the three people walking into the room.

“See, Darcy?” Jane hissed. “I told you they didn’t fly us all the way over here just to shoot us.”

“There’s still time,” said Darcy. “Hey Thor, Loki.”

They both nodded at her. Erik stood behind the two women, looking like he couldn’t decide whether to be eager or wary.

A heavy sort of numbness swept over Thor. This Jane, who neither knew him nor cared for him, was going to be coming to Asgard to stay for the mortal equivalent of a long-term basis?

“I spoke with Dr. Foster on the phone last night,” said Fury. “Asked if she’d like an opportunity to take her studies to a place where the subject matter is a little less theoretical.”

“I don’t want to be a burden,” said Jane, turning to Thor and Loki, “but this would be such an incredible opportunity. I mean, I never even imagined—”

“You could never be a burden,” said Thor hoarsely. He forced a smile, though he felt like he’d been stabbed in the heart. “Any of you,” he added, smiling at Darcy and Erik too.

“Good, ‘cause this is gonna be worth so much more than six credits,” said Darcy. “Lauren Harwood in my Intercultural Comms class can take that U.N. internship and shove it up—”

Erik cut her off with a nervous cough, his eyes on Fury, who only seemed amused.

“What do I need to do to send my agents to you in a couple weeks or so?”

“Call for Heimdall,” said Loki. “He will let us know, and then we or someone else will come to escort them to a Bifrost site.”

“Can’t they just stand in one of the sites we’ve already seen you use?”

“I suppose they could,” said Thor.

“It may still be easier for them if an Aes guide accompanies them, at least the first time,” said Loki. “It is not an especially tranquil mode of travel, and as you have seen, they will need to stand in precisely the right place in order to arrive in one piece.”

The apprehension on Erik’s face was intensifying, but Jane was practically bouncing up and down with excitement.

“We’ll take the guide,” said Fury.

“If that’s all,” said Loki, “I should find Banner and see if he’s made his decision.”

X

Every time Bruce felt tempted to believe he’d only imagined meeting the actual Thor and Loki, all he had to do was look in the mirror at his unfamiliar blue-eyed, angular-featured face. It must be a face people could trust, because it hadn’t been too hard for him to land a dishwashing job at a shabby diner, even though he’d been wearing slightly ill-fitting clothing he’d stolen from an unattended hamper at a laundromat when he applied. It was also bizarre how much of a difference four inches of additional height could make to his vantage point, considering that he regularly grew several feet.

Washing dishes for hours on end gave him plenty of time to think. Wouldn’t you like to be able to stop running, at least for a little while? Stop running. Stop working shit jobs just to stay fed. Stop wondering when something would set him off. It was a mark of how bad the last few years had been that choosing between going on the way he had ever since the accident and letting himself be abducted by aliens didn’t really feel like much of a choice at all.

His shift ended and he went back to his water-damaged, possibly bedbug-infested motel room. It was in exactly the same condition as when he’d left that morning, which confirmed his suspicions that the custodial staff was nonexistent. He turned to hook the chain in place and turn the deadbolt. When he faced the room again, he nearly jumped out of his skin.

“Good evening, Dr. Banner,” said Loki.

“God!” Bruce yelped. “Was that necessary?”

“Probably not,” said Loki. “But it was fun. Have you decided? Will you be coming with us to Asgard or remaining...” He looked around, taking in the flickering light, the scuffed furniture, and the blotches in the wallpaper. “...here?”

Bruce couldn’t even feel offended by Loki turning his nose up at his accommodations. They were pretty bad. He laughed. “I can’t believe I’m doing this, but what the hell. I don’t really have anything else to lose. I might as well become the first human to see another world.”

“You won’t be,” said Loki, “but that’s the spirit!”

“What?” said Bruce.

“Come along,” said Loki, brushing past him and undoing the lock and chain. “The Bifrost site isn’t far.”

Bruce opened his mouth to protest that he needed to collect his stuff, but then he remembered that the only things he had to his name were a toothbrush and a disposable razor, so he shrugged, tossed the room key on the nightstand, and followed the alien prince out into the crumbling parking lot.

Chapter Text

“So how does this, uh, Bifrost thing work?” said Banner. He looked like himself again, and he was wringing his hands together and casting glances all around. As accustomed to the Bifrost as Loki was, it was hard to imagine anyone being nervous about traveling by it. What did Banner have to fear? He wasn’t the one about to have a conversation with his parents that had resulted in his attempted suicide in another timeline. Loki had done his best to keep his thoughts on Midgard these past few days, and he had largely succeeded, but the reprieve was over. He had not the faintest idea what this terrible secret could be, and dread was pooling sickeningly in his stomach. This would be so much easier if he was the sort of man who could tolerate being aware a secret existed without knowing the secret itself.

“It’s quite simple. We stand in a certain spot, and then Heimdall will open the Bifrost to pull us to Asgard. The entire journey will take but moments.” This time, the Bifrost site was located on a patch of grass to the side of the road, about a mile from the shabby inn where Banner had been staying.

“Huh, so it’s kind of a ‘Beam me up, Scotty’ type thing?”

Loki frowned at him.

“Oh, sorry, I guess you don’t get a lot of Earth entertainment.”

“Our visits in the past were somewhat infrequent,” said Loki. “Though in my adolescence, I did rather enjoy a few of your plays.”

“What does it feel like?”

“What?” said Loki, who had been reminiscing about performing before a crowd of excitable mortals. Such a shame their lives were so short. Only a few decades in which to create before death claimed them. Loki doubted anyone on this planet remembered the brilliant playwright or any of his delightful works four centuries later.

“The Bifrost,” said Banner.

Loki could have told him plainly that the Bifrost felt exactly as it looked: an exhilarating rush across the stars. However, his own mounting anxiety was such that he did not feel particularly inclined to relieve Banner’s. In fact, he rather preferred to do the opposite. “It’s not remotely painful, at least for an Aes. I couldn’t say what it’s like for a mortal.”

Alarm flashed over Banner’s face. Loki pretended not to notice.

X

Jane, Darcy, and Erik all staggered into Himinbjorg with Thor. Jane had seized Thor’s arm to steady herself, and he tried not to react to the thrill of electricity set off by her touch. As soon as she had regained her balance, he moved a step away from her. She appeared oblivious, as she, like her companions, was already too busy staring open-mouthed at her surroundings.

“Welcome to Asgard,” said Heimdall. His smile was more sincere than when Thor had brought Jane home with him the day before Malekith’s attack, which boded well. “Lady Sif and the Warriors Three are coming to greet you, and they’re bringing horses enough for all of you to ride. The Queen will be coming as well.”

“You ride horses?” said Darcy.

“Of course,” said Thor. “Asgardian steeds are highly intelligent and superior to any mechanical land vehicle. We have our longships and skiffs for when we must travel by sea or air.”

Erik let out an incredulous laugh, and Thor smiled. How strange it must be to find that all the stories one grew up with as a child turned out to be true in some fashion. He turned to Heimdall. “Loki and Banner?” Erik perked up at this. In the hours since Fury unveiled his plan to send the three humans to Asgard in a formal diplomatic capacity, Thor had learned that Erik was already acquainted with Banner from before. Possibly a connection from one of those PhDs. Thor hoped it would make Asgard feel a little more familiar for both of them.

“They’ve reached their Bifrost site,” said Heimdall. He turned Hofund very slightly in the plinth, and the gears of the Observatory shifted around them. Jane watched the movements, eyes alight with eager curiosity.

X

“This is the spot,” said Loki.

Sweat glistened on Banner’s forehead and he was fidgeting worse than ever. His only response was a nod.

“Would you like me to hold your hand?”

“What? No.”

“I could assume the form of Dr. Ross again.”

“I’m fine!”

“As long as you’re certain.”

“Stop trying to annoy me into forgetting that I’m about to travel to another planet inside a beam of energy powerful enough to cut me in half,” Banner snapped. “It’s not helping.”

X

Heimdall activated the Bifrost with a downward push, and the brilliant beams of energy roared out into space. “All of you, move to the side, quickly,” he said.

Thor frowned. They were hardly standing directly in the way as it was, but Heimdall was not to be gainsaid, so he ushered the three mortals as far as they could get from the Bifrost without moving towards the exit. No sooner had they done so than Loki hit Himinbjorg at a dead sprint as though the tails of his coat were on fire. “Help!”

The answer to Thor’s question arrived before he could ask it: the Hulk barrelled out of the Bifrost, his enraged eyes fixed on Loki. Heimdall stepped deftly to the side, allowing the green beast to pass him.

“Loki, what happened?” Thor yelled as he ran after his brother and the Hulk.

“I might’ve deliberately stoked Banner’s anxieties about the Bifrost,” Loki yelled back. “Just a bit. He started transforming as soon as we were caught up in it.”

“You know, Brother,” said Thor, “for someone so clever, you can be kind of an idiot sometimes.” He took advantage of Hulk’s hesitation as he realized how foreign his surroundings were to leap up on his back and get him in a choke hold using Mjolnir.

“How else would I know I’m related to you?” Loki retorted, having now gained enough distance from the Hulk (who was roaring his displeasure and grabbing at Thor, trying to rip him off his back) to wheel around and prepare to enter the fray on his own terms. Sif, Fandral, Hogun, and Volstagg were only a hundred yards or so ahead of them on the bridge, and they had left the horses behind to come and help.

X

The Queen of Asgard was eager to see her sons again. She had periodically watched over them from Hlidskjalf in between attending to her many duties as regent, but such distant glimpses were not enough, intriguing as they were.

Having spent the better part of a millennium making sure her two incredibly gifted boys didn’t get themselves killed doing something foolish (easily as difficult an endeavor as ruling a kingdom), it was not entirely a surprise when the first she saw of them on the Rainbow Bridge was a large green creature tossing them, Sif, and the Warriors Three about like dolls. As she watched, Hogun and Volstagg tumbled off the bridge into the sea below. Her Einherjar guard tightened their grips on their weapons, but she merely sighed and shook her head. “Send for a skiff to fish our brave warriors out of the water,” she said.

She continued to watch the scuffle. She knew from what she had observed from Hlidskjalf that the green creature was an ally, but she had never seen such an undisciplined fighting style. The longer she watched, the more he looked like...like a child. A rather large child who didn’t know his strength, who lacked the words words to convey his distress and was left to attempt to do so through destruction instead. She dismounted lightly from Gyllir and began walking, weaving her seidr into the groundwork for a spell she hadn’t used in about nine centuries. “Hold,” she said when the Einherjar made to follow her.

X

“Are you quite sure this brute is your friend?” grunted Fandral as he ducked one of Hulk’s fists. “He doesn’t seem to like you very much.”

“If we can just get him to calm down, he’ll return to his mortal form and I can introduce you properly,” said Thor, using Mjolnir to block a large green elbow.

“And I suppose doing battle with him is how we calm him down?” said Sif sarcastically. She was the only one Hulk had failed to strike thus far, but it was not for his lack of trying.

Thor caught sight of Darcy standing with her phone pointed at them from the threshold of Himinbjorg. Jane and Erik stood on either side of her, both looking horrified. In the second he had taken to look, Hulk, having swatted through simulacrum after simulacrum, finally caught the real Loki around the middle and hurled him off the bridge the same as he had done to Hogun and Volstagg.

The sight of Loki falling from the Rainbow Bridge had Thor reacting without thinking. Some part of his brain knew that he would land safely in the water like their friends, where he would be in even less danger than they thanks to his shapeshifting abilities, but that part barely registered. He abandoned the fight without a backward glance, spinning Mjolnir and leaping after his brother. He caught him before he hit the water and flew back up to the bridge.

Loki, who had been in the middle of protesting at Thor’s manner of carrying him about, froze, eyes wide. When Thor saw what he was looking at, he did the same. Their mother was walking, completely unarmed, along the gleaming crystal towards the Hulk, who noticed this at roughly the same moment they did. After knocking Sif and Fandral off their feet, he let out an inarticulate roar and began lumbering her way. Frigga’s only reaction was to continue walking closer, her expression utterly serene. A moment later, she began to sing. Thor’s brow furrowed. It was a song he recognized dimly from his early childhood.

Far more bewildering than the sound of the familiar lullaby was Hulk’s reaction. His gait faltered and slowed, his arms lowered, and his fists unclenched, leaving him standing before the Queen of Asgard, almost docile. She smiled up at him and laid a hand over his heart. “You needn’t be frightened, little one,” she said. “You are safe here.”

Thor exchanged a disgruntled glance with Loki, who also seemed taken aback at the sight of their mother treating the one who’d been flinging her own sons about seconds before like he was a small child in need of comfort, never mind that it was actually working.

X

This time, when Bruce came to himself, it was to find a smiling middle-aged woman with golden curls cascading over one shoulder and a richly embroidered dress that fell to the tops of her shoes standing in front of him, pressing something into his hands.

“M-ma’am?” he said. He looked around and had to do a double-take at just about everything. The bridge of multicolored crystal, the golden city in the distance, the breathtaking evening sky that was already more full of stars than even the clearest night on Earth. This must be Asgard. Panic seized him. The entire purpose of coming here was so that he wouldn’t have to be a danger to anyone anymore, but the Other Guy had just ruined his first impression.

“You have nothing to fear, good man,” said the woman as if she had read his mind. (Had she?) “You may have wounded the pride of a few of Asgard’s finest warriors just now, my sons included, but I’m sure they they will recover.” She had turned her smile to something over his shoulder, and he spun around. Thor and Loki were there, looking kinda rumpled, as well as a man and a woman in armor and two more men who were sopping wet and climbing out of a flying boat onto the glittering bridge. A little ways behind them, he saw a few more people, and he had to do yet another double-take. Erik Selvig? He hadn’t seen his colleague since before the botched experiment. What the hell was he doing here? Suddenly very conscious of the number of eyes on him as he stood there in nothing but another pair of tattered pants, he fumbled with the fabric he was holding. It was some kind of cream-colored tunic with golden embroidery like Celtic knots along the hems. He pulled it on.

“Thor, Loki?” said the woman. “Will you introduce me to your guests?”

X

While Hogun and Volstagg left to change into dry armor and Frigga returned to Odin’s bedside, Thor, Loki, Sif, and Fandral showed the four humans to their guest chambers in the palace, a cluster of four rooms in a corridor near the library. It took approximately five seconds for Fandral to start flirting with Darcy, who plainly had no objections whatsoever. Jane was so excited to get to the library that Erik had to remind her that they needed to eat first.

The eight of them, soon joined by Hogun and Volstagg, dined in one of the smaller banquet halls. Seeing so many of his friends together in one place lifted Thor’s spirits greatly. As they ate, he regaled them all with the tales of his and Loki’s adventures on Earth. He was careful to give Loki plenty of room to tell his side of things as well and to give him credit for what he had done. However, he couldn’t help noticing that even as Loki spoke animatedly and smiled at everyone, he barely touched his food. After their account caught back up to the present, Volstagg took over as storyteller, entertaining the humans by describing his favorite acts of heroism from centuries past. About five minutes into this, Loki slipped away from the table. Thor set down his goblet and followed.

When Thor caught up to Loki at a balcony overlooking Mother’s garden, surprise flashed briefly over the latter’s face before he could mask it, and Thor felt a pang of regret for all the times he had not gone after his brother when he went off alone from a social setting. “I made you a promise,” he said. “I mean to keep it. As soon as Father wakes, we will speak to him.”

“I never doubted you,” said Loki, picking absently at his hands. “It was a good distraction, Midgard. I didn’t have to think about what was coming. But now we’re home, and I am at once desperately curious and terribly afraid to know the secret that, in another life, was my undoing.”

“It was not only the secret,” said Thor, trying to convince himself as much as Loki. “It was everything surrounding it. Father was in the Odinsleep, Mother was tending to him, and I was banished. You were left alone, unexpectedly on the throne and unjustly suspected of placing yourself there for lust of power, with the war I started against Jotunheim to deal with. This time, none of that has happened, and you will not be alone.”

“But how could I seek my own destruction under any circumstances? Am I so weak that—”

“You are not weak,” Thor interrupted. “Or if you are, it is a weakness I share.”

“What are you talking about?” said Loki irritably, as though the very idea of Thor being weak in any way were ludicrous.

“It was not merely Thanos’s destruction I sought after he murdered you in front of me, Brother,” said Thor. “You were all I had left, and we had finally begun to repair what was broken between us, and then I was suddenly facing four thousand years alone, my family and most of my friends dead, king of a refugee people on the brink of extinction. Thrice in those two days, I stared death in the face and would have welcomed it. I clung to your body instead of seeking escape when Thanos blasted our ship to pieces around me. I took on all the power of Nidavellir to forge the weapon to kill him. After I cleaved his head from his shoulders with it, I held the Time Stone in my fist until it tore me apart. It is not by my own doing that I still live.”

Loki stared at him, looking stricken. Thor smiled. “I cannot say for certain what went through your mind in the other timeline. We never discussed it. But I think in that moment you believed there was no other way to escape what you had learned and what you thought it meant. Perhaps it was only that you were already dangling over an abyss that allowed such an idea to take hold of you. Perhaps you would have dismissed it easily standing on firm ground. I like to think so.”

A low, croaky call sounded from somewhere above them, and they looked up to see two winged silhouettes against the star-filled sky, flapping their way closer. “Father’s summons,” said Loki.

Thor reached up to grip the back of Loki’s neck. The two ravens alighted on the balustrade and looked at the princes expectantly. “Tell him we will be right there,” said Thor. Hugin bobbed his head and Munin gave another croak, and they both took flight.

Chapter Text

Thor and Loki made their way up to the royal apartments near the top of the palace. They didn’t exactly drag their feet, but neither did they make anything resembling haste. Every Odinsleep Thor could remember except one had ended in the same manner: with the whole family gathering together in the king’s study to prepare for the following day, when Odin would resume the throne. The study was a far less formal setting than the throne room or the council chambers. It was large and circular. Braziers alternated with bookcases all along the walls, and endless knotwork intertwined across nearly every gilded surface. Opposite the door was a wide balcony that overlooked everything from the palace steps to Himinbjorg, and on either side of the room were two spacious raised alcoves. The one on the left housed a hnefatafl table and a loom; the right, a massive desk heaped with books and loose parchment, where Odin did most of his work when he wasn’t sitting on Hlidskjalf. At the center of the room was a sunken fire pit surrounded by a carpet of furs and four heavy, lavish sofas.

At the princes’ entrance, Geri and Freki leapt up from where they had been curled on the furs and dashed over to greet them, ears perked up, tails wagging madly, and tongues lolling out. Even though Thor was now facing the most important conversation he would ever force his family to have, he couldn’t help smiling at the wolves and scratching their ears, though they soon abandoned him for Loki, who had produced out of thin air several large pieces of meat still warm from the banquet hall.

Odin and Frigga stood on the balcony, and they turned as Thor and Loki approached and stopped a couple of the wide steps below them. “Your mother tells me much has happened while I slept,” said Odin. “It must be true, for how else would the palace have acquired four mortals as guests?”

As with Heimdall, this was a better reaction than when Thor had brought Jane alone, though Odin did not sound exactly pleased—more that he was waiting to hear a very good explanation before he decided whether or not to be displeased. Perhaps mortals were only unwelcome when the Crown Prince was courting one.

“It is time for Asgard to expand its alliances,” said Thor.

“Alliances?” said Odin. “Asgard has protected Midgard for millennia. What would be the value in any closer an alliance than that when there is nothing the humans can offer us?”

“I think they may surprise us, Father,” said Loki. “One of the four we brought can match Thor in battle.”

Odin raised his eyebrows.

“I would’ve won,” Thor grumbled.

“Of course you would,” said Loki.

“I was going easy on him!”

“Boys,” said Frigga, looking amused.

“And what prompted this sudden desire for an alliance?” said Odin. “When last we spoke, Thor, you could do little but rage and storm about repaying the Jotnar for their supposed act of war.”

“I have no quarrel with the Jotnar. I would have them for allies as well.”

Both of his parents stared at him in blank shock, and he could feel the same reaction from his brother, even though this wasn’t the first time Loki had heard him voice the idea.

“Can this be my son who speaks?” said Odin. His brow furrowed and his gaze grew more intent. “What has happened to you? You are not as you were.”

“No, I am not,” Thor agreed. “But before I tell you all, I would have you know that what I say is for the good of Asgard, the nine realms, and this family.” He lifted Mjolnir off the hook at his side and held it out to his father, handle first. “There is a spell to prevent any from wielding Mjolnir who are not worthy of it. I want you to cast it.”

“Thor,” said Frigga. She stepped forward and clasped his arm. “You do not need to prove yourself to us.”

“Thank you, Mother,” said Thor, covering her fingers with his free hand, “but I would leave no room for doubt. What I have to say will not be easy to hear.”

“Very well,” said Odin. Frigga moved to stand by Loki’s other side. Odin lifted a hand, and Mjolnir flew into his grasp. Without taking his eye from Thor, he held the hammer to his lips, and the swell of power emanating from him made all the fires in the study dim. “Whosoever holds this hammer, if he be worthy, shall possess the power of Thor.”

He let Mjolnir fall onto the step between them with an echoing clang, a gleaming triquetra now emblazoned on its head.

As Thor bent down and reached for the handle, he had a moment to wonder if he had just doomed himself. Since he last wielded a Mjolnir enchanted with the worthiness spell, he had helped destroy Asgard and his sister and he had failed to save his brother, Heimdall, and half of his surviving people from Thanos. He closed his hand around it and lifted. When Mjolnir came up off the floor as easily as usual, he felt a surprising tightening in his throat. His eyes fell briefly closed. He was still worthy. He hooked the hammer back on his belt and resumed his place beside Loki.

“You could not have done that five days ago,” said Odin.

“If you knew that, then why did you want to make me regent?” said Thor.

“I didn’t,” said Odin. “My misgivings were such that I put off the Odinsleep as long as I could. However, I came to hope the experience might do you more good than it would do Asgard harm, and I was reassured to know you would have had your mother and brother to intervene if you attempted anything truly foolish.”

Thor felt Loki shift next to him. He suspected that Loki had thought Odin blind to his eldest son’s faults, which was why he had resorted to such elaborate schemes to disrupt the coronation.

“Will you tell us now what has happened to you?” said Frigga.

“I will,” said Thor. “Five days ago, I held the Time Stone in my hand, and it sent me seven years into the past, to the night of my coronation.”

Frigga’s hand flew to her mouth.

“Why would you do such a thing?” said Odin. He looked astonished. “Time is not to be meddled with lightly.”

Thor shrugged. “I wasn’t trying to come back, but I had nothing left to lose. I had already watched all three of you die and Asgard blasted into rubble.” At this, Frigga clutched at Loki, who put an arm around her and murmured something reassuring in her ear. “There were perhaps two thousand Aesir left alive when I picked up the Stone.”

“Then Ragnarok is upon us,” breathed Odin. “How?”

“Ragnarok was not the problem,” said Thor. “Loki and I had no choice but to unleash Surtur in order to defeat Hela.”

“Hela?” said Frigga. She looked sharply at her husband. “When you came back from Niflheim, you told me she was dead. You promised me she would never escape to harm our sons!”

If Odin had not been fresh from the Odinsleep, Thor thought he might have collapsed where he stood. As it was, he still swayed a little and seemed to age visibly before Thor’s eyes. “It was my intent to slay her. I could not do it. For all her crimes, she is still my daughter, Frigga, and I made her what she is.”

“Then even Mother didn’t know?” said Thor. “Why did you never tell us about her? She is so strong, and we had no time to prepare.” Anger burned sudden and hot in his veins. The intensity of it surprised him. Dark clouds were even gathering outside, obscuring the stars. “Was she meant to remain locked up and forgotten forever, or have you always known that your death would release her, and didn’t care because she would no longer be your problem?”

“You know not of what you speak,” said Odin, bristling. “You haven’t seen what I have. You don’t—”

“I see with perfect clarity,” Thor interrupted, his voice near shouting now, punctuated by a flash of lightning and a crack of thunder. “What makes that easier is that my sister hasn’t yet had the chance to slash out one of my eyes!” This startled Odin enough that some of the anger left his face. “How were we supposed to stop her when you’ve pretended she doesn’t exist for our entire lives?”

“I have pretended nothing.”

“No? Then if I take Mjolnir to the throne room now and hurl it at the ceiling, I would not reveal images of an older, bloodier age beneath the paintings of a peaceful, benevolent Realm Eternal?”

“Asgard is not the same as it was then.”

“You can’t just paint over something you’re ashamed of and pretend it never happened!” said Thor, flinging out his hands.

“And I have not. The new images are as true as the old, and they show what Asgard has become. For the better part of two millennia, Asgard has rebuilt many of the civilizations it destroyed during my father’s reign and the first part of mine. We have only interfered where we were needed. We have built strong ties with former enemies—the Ljosalfar, the Dvergar, the Vanir. And we even have alliances that extend beyond Yggdrasil, where once we thought to lead our conquering armies.”

“That is all very well,” said Thor, “but how did you expect us to rule justly and well if we only knew half of our own history?”

“Can you tell me honestly that I had no reason to fear that learning the truth of Asgard’s conquest of the nine realms might have inspired more pride and battle-lust in you than humility and compassion?”

Thor had no response to this. Shame pooled within him at the memories of his thoughtless, warmongering youth. He could not say with confidence that growing up with Hela as a cautionary tale would have done him much good.

Odin turned to face the balcony and rested his hands on it. “After Hela slaughtered the Valkyrior,” he said, “I went to Niflheim to end it once and for all, but I could not raise Gungnir against my own child. Instead, to curtail her power, I erased her from my people’s memory. There were many on Asgard who recalled the age of conquest too fondly and awaited the day when I would restore their crown princess. Without their support, she has never been able to attempt escape again.” He paused. “Perhaps it was fear, not wisdom, that led me to hide her even from you, but I hoped that if I raised you and your brother as differently as I could from how I raised Hela, it would be enough to keep you from becoming like her.”

“Is that also why you’ve never given me full access to my power?”

“Yes,” said Odin. The bald admission took Thor aback. “Power is a seductive thing, and you have more of it than most. My father raised me to believe that whoever had the most power deserved to rule over weaker creatures. It is difficult to see the evils of that reasoning when you have always always been the strongest. That is why I took steps to limit your abilities from an early age.”

“What made you see?” said Loki. All three of them looked at him. He had listened silently for several minutes, and Thor’s focus on Odin had blinded him to his brother’s reactions to everything they said. He still had his arm around Frigga, and he looked paler than usual, but it was impossible to tell what he was thinking. “Why stop conquering?”

“It was the Aesir-Vanir war,” said Frigga, glancing at Odin, who sighed heavily. “It is one thing to conquer alien realms, but it is another to turn around and conquer the very realm you came from a mere three generations ago.”

“In the beginning,” said Odin, “I believed it would be for the good of Vanaheim to come under Asgard’s rule. We were bringing our cousins into our prosperity, and they would thank us for it.” He laughed bitterly. “The Vanir disagreed, but it wasn’t until I saw Hela using the same brutal tactics against them that she had against less ambiguous enemies that my confidence in the justice of our campaign began to waver. That was also when I met Frigga.”

He smiled at her, and there was such adoration in his eye that Thor felt slightly embarrassed.

“King Fjorgynn sent her to negotiate with me, and her passionate arguments for her people built on my growing doubts until I could not pretend even to myself that Asgard was in the right. The war ended with our marriage, but Hela refused to accept it. When she realized that not only would we not be subjugating the Vanir, but we would not be moving forward with any more conquests for the foreseeable future, she tried to usurp me. She killed everyone in the palace that day. When she went for Frigga, I opened a gateway to Niflheim. There she has remained ever since. And yes, I did intend her to remain there after my death.”

Thor’s mind was reeling. All the pieces fit together, but they differed so much from what he had been taught since childhood. Common understanding of the Aesir-Vanir war was that it had been motivated mainly by disagreements over trade. Asgard had never been portrayed as blameless in his lessons, but their role had certainly been downplayed. He would need time to think about everything he had learned.

“You said you watched all three of us die,” said Frigga, her eyes on Loki. “If Odin’s death released Hela, then was it she who—”

“No,” said Thor. Whatever remained of his anger drained away, replaced by old grief. “You were killed by a Dark Elf four years before Hela’s return.” At a noise of horrified outrage from Odin, he quickly elaborated. “I do not know whether Grandfather lied about their defeat or Malekith fooled him, but they have been lying in wait in their cloaked ship these five thousand years. They attacked when the Aether resurfaced. Loki nearly died avenging Mother, but it was the Mad Titan who killed him, mere weeks after we defeated Hela.”

Odin walked to one of the sofas around the fire and sank onto it, running his hands over his face. Geri and Freki shuffled close to his feet, making soft whimpering sounds, but he ignored them. “Is this the legacy of Buri?” he asked. “Bor’s greatest enemy still lives, the demon that slew Vili and Vé still lives, Hela’s prison will fail, and Thanos returns.” He looked up at Thor. “The Norns must have sent you back to punish me for my failures.”

Thor held Odin’s gaze. He did not want to offer his father any comfort. These were indeed grievous failings, and he had already lived through their consequences. Perhaps he was a fool, but he hated to see the man he had looked up to all his life so defeated. “Or they sent me back to a time before it was too late to stop them from destroying everything,” he said. “That is why Loki and I went to Midgard, and it is why I want to ally with the Jotnar. With the right help, we can stop these things from happening. But before we can begin any of that, there is still the other secret you kept from us.”

Odin’s eye widened. Thor looked at Loki, who was now white as a sheet. “You owe Loki the truth. If you will not tell him, I will.”

Chapter Text

Loki thought he had already accepted and processed the revelation that he and Thor had a psychotic sister whom they would have to deal with in the near future, but it turned out that she was only the initial loose thread that would unravel the tapestry of everything he had understood about Asgard and the line of Buri. And yet all that buried history still was not the secret his parents had kept from him. What could it possibly be?

“You go too far!” said Odin. His voice seemed to come from a great distance.

“Odin,” said Frigga, “He’s right. We should never have kept the truth from Loki in the first place.”

“We have done that to protect him!”

“Perhaps that made sense when he was a boy, but it has long been nothing but an excuse,” said Frigga. “He deserves to know.” She locked gazes with Odin. Eventually, he was the one who looked away.

“Thor, leave us,” he said.

This dragged Loki out of his disoriented shock, and he stared at Thor. His brother looked extremely reluctant, but was obviously going to obey. “No,” said Loki. The plea came out faint and hoarse.

Thor closed the space between them and put his hands on Loki’s shoulders. “It will be alright, Brother, but you must swear to come find me afterward.”

“I…,” said Loki, leaning back and looking anywhere but at Thor.

“Swear it!” said Thor, shaking Loki a little. “Your own thoughts will be your worst enemies, and you should not be alone with them.”

Loki swallowed. “I swear.”

Thor gave him a grim smile and nodded. He glanced once at Frigga, then at Odin, and strode from the study.

“Come here, darling,” said Frigga, and she gently pulled Loki towards a sofa at a right angle to the one Odin had taken. They sat down so that she was on his left and Odin was to his right, more or less facing him.

“What did your brother tell you of this?” said Odin.

“Only that there is some terrible secret you have kept from me.”

“Is ‘terrible’ the word he used?” said Frigga, covering his hand with hers.

“No,” Loki admitted. Hoping to deflect further questions, he threw out one of his own. “Do I have some kind of dreadful illness that even Eir cannot cure?” He did not think this particularly likely. He had been ill more often as a child than Thor or any of their friends, but it had never been serious.

“What?” said Odin. “No, of course not.”

“Have you limited my power like you have Thor’s?”

“Not in the same way,” said Frigga.

“In your case, it was merely a consequence of your not knowing,” said Odin.

“Then what is it?”

Odin and Frigga exchanged a long glance. Loki had always suspected that his parents did not even need the nameless tongue to communicate privately, and it seemed especially probable now. After several seconds, Frigga squeezed his hand, but it was Odin who spoke.

“As you know, you were born at the end of the war against Jotunheim.”

“Am I about to learn that Asgard waged that war unjustly too?” said Loki, only half-joking.

“No,” said Odin. “The era of conquest disrupted many of Jotunheim’s relations with other realms and certainly contributed to the feelings of hostility between the Aesir and the Jotnar, but war only became inevitable when Laufey set his sights on Midgard.”

“What has Jotunheim or the war to do with this?” said Loki, frowning.

“Everything,” said Odin. Loki stared at his father, a horrible ominous feeling creeping over him.

“From the time we were married,” said Frigga, “we always wanted more than one child, and not just as a redundancy for the line of succession. Both of us grew up with siblings we were very close to, and we wanted the same in our household.”

“I have sometimes wondered whether Hela would have been better off with a brother or sister to love and look after from an early age,” said Odin, “but it is obviously far too late for that.”

“We had Thor halfway through the war,” said Frigga. “We never thought a younger sibling would follow so soon, but less than twenty years later, I was with child again. It seemed like a bright light that would carry Asgard into times of peace.” Even though she smiled, there was pain in her eyes as she said it. Loki could not understand it, but it made the ominous feeling intensify.

“I already know all of this,” he said slowly.

“Yes,” said Frigga, “but there is more. Much more.”

“On Jotunheim, Hugin and Munin brought me word of the child,” said Odin. “The news lifted the spirits of Asgard’s warriors, and we pressed on, gaining more and more ground with every battle. We forced the Jotnar back all the way to Utgard. As we laid siege to their capital, our spies learned of the death of Farbauti, along with her unborn child. I was willing to postpone the battle to give the Jotnar time to mourn and honor their queen and royal child, but Laufey wanted none of Asgard’s pity.”

“How did Farbauti die?” said Loki. Even among the long-lived races of Yggdrasil, childbearing was not without risks, but it struck him as suspicious for a queen and her baby to die on the eve of the final battle of the war. Loki was bracing himself to learn that it had been the work of an Aes assassin acting on Odin’s orders to demoralize the Jotnar, so Odin’s answer caught him by surprise.

“According to what my spies overheard, she suffered a miscarriage and subsequently killed herself from grief.”

Now that was interesting. Not an Aes assassin, then. “You didn’t believe it,” said Loki.

“I had my doubts. Heimdall later confirmed them. There is a curious condition among the Jotnar in which one infant in every several thousand is born months early, already fully developed and capable of surviving outside the womb. These children only ever grow to be the size of Aesir, but they are blessed with seidr far beyond that of their larger kin.”

“Small giants?” said Loki incredulously. “I have never heard of such a thing.”

“That is because Laufey has done all in his power to eradicate them since he became king,” said Frigga. As she spoke, Odin got to his feet and began to walk along the edge of the crackling fire pit, his hands clasped behind his back and his brow deeply furrowed. “Perhaps he fears they would ally themselves with beings more their size, given the chance, or that they would use their seidr to overthrow him.”

“So what does he do, have them dropped off cliffs?” said Loki.

“Oh no, he is far too cunning for that,” said Odin, turning and pacing the other direction. “He began simply, by terming these small Jotnar ‘skamrborn’.”

Loki grimaced. The term could be interpreted as simply “short children,” but skamr also meant “deformed” or “mutilated.”

“From there, he spent over a century sowing suspicion and mistrust. By the time Jotunheim’s religious leaders proclaimed that their gods had called for all skamrborn to be returned to them, lest Jotunheim be struck with a curse, the people most loyal to Laufey were ready to hear it. A few of the small Jotnar succeeded in fleeing Jotunheim before they could be dragged to the temple altars. Brave Jotun mothers and fathers risked everything to send their little ones to Alfheim where they would be safe, but many were captured, accused of heresy, and executed.”

Having grown up with endless feast hall tales of the savagery and brutality of the Jotun armies, Loki was not at all surprised to learn that their king would be so vicious to the most vulnerable of his people, nor that their religious leaders would help him do it, but it was strange to think of Jotnar as capable of feeling the kind of affection for their children that would drive them to risk their own lives to protect them. “So that’s what happened to Farbauti,” said Loki contemptuously. “Her child was skamrbarn, and she killed it and herself for shame.” Had Laufey cursed Odin’s wife and child so that his enemy would suffer as he did? Was that the secret?

“No,” said Frigga, and Loki was startled to see that her eyes were full of tears. “Farbauti was a good queen and a good mother. She loved all three of her sons. She gave birth and tried to smuggle the babe out of Utgard, but she was betrayed and discovered by Laufey almost at once.”

“Laufey’s own policies had made his worst fears come true,” said Odin. “His position was already precarious because of the war he was about to lose. Had his people learned that he had produced a skamrbarn while leading them to defeat, then the very same religious doctrines he helped to write would have given them just cause to depose him.”

“Could he not simply denounce the child as a bastard and let Farbauti take the blame?”

“Such a claim would have been too easily disproven,” said Frigga. “The markings on a Jotun’s skin are hereditary. The ones on the face and body come from the mother, but the ones on the arms and legs come from the father.” Her thumb traced chevrons on the back of Loki’s hand as she spoke. “Laufey was the only surviving male of Ymir’s line old enough to father children. The newborn prince’s legitimacy would have been obvious to any Jotun who saw him.”

This information was surprising. Loki’s schooling had not included much about the Jotnar, but he had always assumed the odd lines decorating their bodies were the result of scarification, not genetics.

“He gave the baby to the servant who had betrayed Farbauti, with orders to take him to the closest temple to Asgard’s camp and dispose of him there,” said Odin, who in contrast to Frigga’s sorrow seemed to be growing quietly furious. He had stopped pacing and now gripped the edge of the fire pit tightly enough to leach the color from his fingers, and he spoke through gritted teeth. It must disgust him, as a man who could not bring himself to kill his daughter even after she committed heinous crimes, that another king could discard his infant child without a second thought. “Farbauti tried to fight him, but childbirth had weakened her, and he slew her quickly.”

“Why are we talking of Laufey and Farbauti?” said Loki. This was all very fascinating, but what was the point of it?

“Because it is important context,” said Frigga. “You will understand soon enough.”

“The battle commenced,” said Odin. He returned to the sofa and sat on the side nearest Loki and Frigga. “In my impatience to return home in time for the birth of my child, perhaps I fought more recklessly than I might have otherwise, for Laufey took my eye mere hours before I gained his surrender. But at last, the war was won. I sent the Einherjar to take the Casket of Ancient Winters so that Laufey would never be able to attack another realm, and I secured his, Helblindi’s, and Byleistr’s seals on the truce.”

He closed his eye. “I was weary. It had been a long war, and the Odinsleep was nearly upon me. I wanted a moment of peace and solitude before the return journey to Asgard and the days of feasting and celebration that would follow, so I climbed the steps of the nearest building and went inside.” He chuckled, which in itself was more baffling than anything he had said so far. “I found neither peace nor solitude. It was the temple where Laufey had sent his infant son to die, but the prince was a contrary fellow, and not inclined to obey his father’s wishes. He lay on the stone altar, little fists clenched, cries echoing in the empty hall.”

The sense of foreboding, temporarily forgotten amid the strange history lesson, was back in full force.

“I had learned of skamrborn by then. Early in the war, I thought to employ some of the surviving adults living on Alfheim in my army, but they would not return to Jotunheim, lest they endanger their families. I knew the child had been left to die, but differences in Jotun markings are subtle, and I was not proficient at recognizing their patterns. I did not yet know who he was, or I may have broken the truce before the ink on it was dry. He was the same size as the son I would soon be holding for the first time.” There was a crack in his voice, and a soft sound from Loki’s left had him looking around to see that his mother was weeping. Geri and Freki whined and put their heads on Odin’s lap.

“When I picked the child up, I did so thinking to deliver him to Alfheim to be raised with the other small Jotnar, but then he did something remarkable. He smiled at me, and he shifted his form from Jotun to Aes like it was as simple as drawing breath. I could hardly believe it. He was only an infant, starving, helpless, and abandoned, and instead of crying for food and comfort, he performed the kind of magic that takes most seidmenn and seidkonur centuries to master. It was as if he was seeking to impress me. As if he already trusted me to take care of him.”

As he spoke, Loki was finding the task of drawing breath progressively less simple. It was the same rare ability he prided himself on. Large as the study was, he felt as though the walls were closing in on him.

“I thought no more of Alfheim after that,” Odin went on. “I bundled him in my cloak and returned home with my armies. I have never been skilled at illusion magic, but I was able to do enough to hide him until I reached the palace. I told myself it would be very simple. The timing was perfect, after all. I would introduce the child to Frigga, and she would agree that we would raise him as our own...” His eye met Loki’s. “...as the twin to our second-born.”

Chapter Text

The grief coming off both Odin and Frigga was palpable. It made Loki feel alienated from them—but no, grief wasn’t to blame for that, was it? He simply was alien. He tore his gaze away from Odin’s and tried to pull his hand from Frigga’s, but she held fast. Would she still if he transformed? Would she keep clutching him even as her skin blackened with frostbite?

“It was not to be,” said Odin. His voice was rather hoarse. “Heimdall told me who the Jotun child was and why he was in that temple, but he had scarcely finished his account before he turned his eyes to the palace. I knew something was wrong. When I arrived in the royal apartments, Frigga was in labor.”

“It was so different from Thor’s birth,” said Frigga. Her voice was surprisingly steady, though tears continued to fall. “I could hardly feel the baby moving, and the pain was far greater. After hours and hours, it was finally over. Eir did all she could, but though the child was born alive, he was still slipping away from us. He wouldn’t cry or eat or open his eyes. We held him and named him, and he was gone within the hour. Then I heard a sound that tore my heart. A baby crying in the room.”

“I dispelled the illusion and explained my plan,” said Odin, “though by then I had little hope that Frigga would accept it. I was preparing myself to part with a second child in a single day, and I did not know how I would bear it. That was foolish of me. I should have learned better than to underestimate my queen.”

There was a long pause. Loki thought he might be sick. His insides roiled—but they weren’t truly his insides. This wasn’t his true form. He’d put on a mask when he was an infant and didn’t know better. His whole life had been that mask. Little wonder he had failed to guess the secret. How could he have imagined that they would allow a Frost Giant to parade about, thinking he was a prince of Asgard? It was so ludicrous that he felt a mad desire to laugh.

“Then I am the changeling child who slept in your true son’s crib and stole his life and name,” he said.

“You stole nothing,” said Odin.

“Should we have preferred an empty crib to one with you in it, just because it was meant for another?” said Frigga. “Should I not have nursed you at my breast?”

Loki had no answer to that, but it still made no sense.

“We wanted both of you,” said Odin. “When I watched you and Thor playing or training together, I often imagined the third boy who could have been there. I did not picture him in your place, nor resent you for being the survivor.”

“Baldur,” said Frigga. “That was the name of the child we lost. Your name has always been your own.”

“Why does Asgard not know of him?” said Loki.

“To be a monarch is to have one’s life constantly on display,” she said. “I could not bear the thought of thousands of people coming to see me to give their condolences. Because of you, we had a chance to keep Baldur and our grief private, and so we did.”

“And you didn’t tell Thor?”

“How does one explain to a toddler that the younger sibling he was so eager to meet is gone, and that his new brother is someone else altogether?” said Odin. “He had no concept of death or that not all children are raised by those who bore them. When we introduced you to him, he was delighted. We chose not to jeopardize the bond the two of you formed.”

“A wonder that you trusted me to be near him at all,” said Loki.

“Oh? Should we have feared that you might murder him in his sleep?” Odin’s tone had grown very dry. “Is this an ambition you have secretly harbored all your life?”

“We were born enemies!” said Loki, incensed. “Why would you take that risk?”

“If birth was enough to determine that much, then Hela would long have been queen of nine miserable realms, and likely many more besides.”

“And as the man who taught her how to conquer worlds,” said Loki, “do you really expect me to believe that naught but compassion and generosity motivated you when you saw an infant Frost Giant with powerful seidr and decided to bring him here and name him Odinson?”

“Did I say those were my only motives?” said Odin. “Of course I thought about the implications of bringing you here, particularly once I knew who you were. Of course I considered the political benefits of keeping you. Of course I considered the uses to which I could put you. You were never going to be just a son, any more than Thor, or Baldur if he had lived. You have always known this.”

“But why?” cried Loki. He was suddenly on his feet, facing them. “You speak as though my being Jotun made no difference to you, but you had just fought a war against them!”

“We did not fight them for being Jotnar,” said Odin.

“There are many on Asgard who would,” Loki countered. “Thor most of all, before his time travel adventure.”

“And that is a fault of Asgard and myself, not a condemnation of the Jotnar. I am glad that Thor is wiser now.”

He was so calm. He had shouted at Thor, had wilted under the weight of the past he had kept hidden. He had wept for Baldur and snarled over Laufey, but now he was as stoic as when he sat on the throne. Loki wanted to scream at Odin and make him scream back. Instead, he forced himself to be just as calm. “Why would you take the unwanted wretch of your enemy into your own home?” He rounded on Frigga. “Why would you agree to such a mad scheme? Your kindness is lauded across Yggdrasil, but surely there is a limit.”

Frigga stood and cupped Loki’s face in her hands. He met her eyes unwillingly. “Laufey may not have wanted you, Loki, but you have never been unwanted. You were a child without a mother, and I was a mother who had lost her child. You rescued me from my despair. There was nothing I could do to save the child I bore. In all my life, I have never felt so powerless. But you were dying too, and I could save you.” She smiled through her tears. “My sweet boy. How could I do anything else?”

Her image blurred, and Loki realized that he was crying as well. She wrapped her arms around him. He hadn’t been aware of how rigidly he’d been carrying himself, but now he sagged against her.

“Do you think the love of a parent is something one must earn?” said Odin. The emotion in the question made Loki look around at him. He sounded afraid, and he looked like he’d been struck in the face. “Have I failed all of my children?”

These questions fell on Loki’s ears like words from the nameless tongue when he was not the audience. All his life, he’d wanted nothing as badly as to make his father proud—a desire he had apparently had since infancy. If he was not Odin’s son, not even Aes, then that goal had never been within reach at all, and his efforts had been for nothing. So how could Odin be acting like he was the disappointment, not Loki?

Frigga guided him back to the sofa. He didn’t really want to be in the study anymore, but he didn’t fight her.

“Were you ever going to tell me if Thor hadn’t forced your hand?” he asked. He felt hollowed out and numb.

“We agreed we would tell you before we began considering betrothals or you entered into a serious courtship,” said Frigga. “I wanted to tell you centuries ago.”

“Why did you wait so long?”

“I could name you one of my heirs,” said Odin, “but I could not make my people forget thousands of years of ill feeling towards the Jotnar. You were an innocent child, not one of the soldiers who slew their fathers or brothers, but that is not what they would have seen. We wanted to shield you from their prejudice.”

That might have been comforting if he hadn’t already been an object of suspicion and distrust for his talents with seidrcraft and his determination to pursue them above any other subject. It had been easy enough for him to make friends among fellow students of magic on Alfheim and Vanaheim, but his friends on Asgard were Thor’s friends first, and if they wanted to be near Thor, they had no choice but to be near Thor’s brother.

“You were also in terrible danger,” Odin continued. “Your survival is the greatest threat to Laufey’s rule, because you are the proof of his crimes against his own people.”

“Then why not use me to finish him? If he is such a villain, why settle for a mere truce and leave him on the throne of Jotunheim?”

Odin was staring at him with the same sadness from a moment ago. “Perhaps that would have been the prudent course to take. It may even have been just. But it would have made you the target of Laufey and all who were loyal to him, and that I could not do.”

X

It was a rare thing for Thor to desire solitude, but he was only just managing to keep his emotions from spilling out into the weather, and his friends, mortal and Aesir alike, were better off without his brooding presence.

He went back to the balcony where he had stood with Loki before Hugin and Munin’s arrival. More than any other place on Asgard, Thor was glad that his mother’s garden had a second chance to escape Ragnarok. Most of his earliest memories involved playing there with Loki under Frigga’s watchful gaze. She had showed them how she cared for each species of plant and told them stories about where they came from. As they grew up, Loki spent more time there than Thor did. Thor wondered whether Loki, while pretending to be Odin, had maintained the garden. He hadn’t taken the time to look at it before going to confront him. He supposed he would never know.

“You do not laugh as often as the Thor I remember.”

Thor smiled and looked around at Sif. “I wish I could.”

She joined him before the balustrade. “I heard the storm earlier.”

The smile faded. “I was...more upset with my father than I realized.”

“With your father?” she said. She frowned. “Did the things you lived through happen because of him?” She sounded as though she was afraid to hear the answer.

“Not entirely, and not by design.” He grimaced. “Perhaps it would be better if they had been. He hid things from me and from Loki. I think he was trying so hard to protect his sons that he forgot to trust us.”

Something flickered in her expression that Thor doubted he would have noticed before. “You don’t think Loki would deserve that trust,” he said quietly.

Her eyes widened in surprise, but she held his gaze with a mixture of shame and defiance. “If I don’t, it is not without reason.”

It was true that Sif and Loki had a long history of getting on each other’s nerves. Thor hoped he had not merely imagined that there was also genuine affection there, somewhere. “Has he ever failed you or me or our friends when we needed him? I know he plays his tricks and calls us all fools, but we were never innocent victims, and he’s saved our lives at least as often as any of us have saved his.”

“You are probably right,” she said grudgingly, “but I can never tell what he is thinking! He’s always up to something. I don’t know how it doesn’t drive you mad.”

Thor grinned. “Perhaps I simply enjoy surprises better than you. Or...have a better sense of humor?”

She punched him on the arm, looking amused against her will. “You must have. Your eyebrows are still translucent.”

Thor felt them, chuckling. He remembered how annoyed Loki had been when he had only laughed after seeing himself in the mirror instead of getting angry. Sif fixed Thor with such a serious look that he ceased all fidgeting at once. “You trust him, though?” she asked.

“Of course I do,” he said. “He’s my brother.”

She nodded. The skepticism from before seemed to be gone, but only time would tell whether that meant he had persuaded her to abandon it or she was simply being more guarded. Putting the Avengers together from scratch might prove far easier than what he had to do at home. “Will you need us tomorrow? We are still ready to do whatever we can to help you prevent Ragnarok.”

Thor smiled his gratitude. “There is still much planning to be done, but I will send for you when we are ready to act.”

She touched his arm below where she had punched him, then turned and left the balcony. Thor watched her go until the hair on the back of his neck suddenly stood up. He chuckled and faced the gardens again. “How long have you been there, Loki?”

Loki materialized to his right. “Longer than Sif would like.” He flicked his hand in the direction of Thor’s face, and Thor felt a tingle in his eyebrows. “Though she’ll be sorry she didn’t stay to see me lift that spell.”

Thor could just see by looking upward as hard as he could with his brows furrowed that they’d gone back to their usual brown, which he thought boded rather well for his brother’s state of mind. “They told you, then?” he asked.

“They told me.”

“And...you are well?”

“I’m not going to hurl myself into space, at any rate.” He looked sideways at Thor. “You’ve been trying to soften the blow all week, haven’t you? With your talk of fighting alongside the Jotnar.”

“I also meant it. If a Jotun can grow up on Asgard without him or anyone else ever noticing he isn’t Aes, then how different can we really be?”

“I was still never like the rest of you, as Sif so kindly illustrated.”

“Are all Jotnar bookish, sarcastic types who turn people into animals when they’re bored?” said Thor. Loki only glared at him. He grinned back. “I’m surprised you want to be like the rest of us. Wouldn’t that have been dull?”

“You’re the best of everything Asgard prizes, and it always came naturally to you. Nobody ever seems to find you dull.”

“And it went straight to my head and made me an arrogant fool who would start a war over a single insult,” said Thor. “I can’t even imagine what a horror I would have become without you to humble me every once in a while. I probably would have been Hela all over again.”

“Yes, as humble as you are now, you’ll soon have no more need of me.”

He said it lightly, but it cut into Thor like a dagger. “I don’t know.” Thor tried to match Loki’s tone. “I think I have enough of an ego to last another four millennia easily.”

The corner of Loki’s mouth twitched. He stared at Thor for a long moment. “It really doesn’t change anything for you, does it?”

Thor clasped the back of Loki’s neck. He couldn’t even remember the first time he’d done that. “It never did.”

Blinking rather rapidly, Loki puffed out his cheeks and let out a breath. “I haven’t just been knocked on the head and hallucinated all of this, have I?” he complained. “I mean, I’m adopted and have four siblings I never knew about. It seems rather excessive.”

Thor started to laugh, before frowning. “Wait, four? I thought Laufey only had two other sons.”

Loki shot him a confused look. “He...does.” His eyes went very wide. “Oh.” He gave a sympathetic grimace. “They didn’t tell you about Baldur.”

Chapter Text

Thor felt numb as he listened to Loki’s explanation about their brother. It was different than any of the other losses he’d experienced. Each time he believed Loki had died had been a devastating blow. Arriving too late to save Frigga from the Kursed had made him feel more powerless than a mortal. Finding Odin on Earth only to lose him moments later had left him disoriented and angry. Hela had just been another foe. He regretted the position she’d forced him into, but the loss of Asgard hit him far harder than the loss of the sister who’d killed so many of his people and his friends.

He didn’t know what to feel about Baldur. Anger that he had never known about him? Shame that he had never sensed the absence? Grief for the life Baldur had never lived? Despair that he represented one more way their family would never be whole, no matter what Thor changed? He tried to reconcile this new knowledge with his memories of childhood. Had Frigga ever hidden a tear as she watched two boys playing instead of three? Had Odin? Had Thor ever noticed and asked about it, only to be told a comforting lie that he never questioned? He couldn’t remember.

“I should go to Mother,” he said after Loki fell silent. Whatever he felt, she had been grieving for over a thousand years, and he had never shared that with her. That, at least, he could fix. But he hesitated, looking at Loki.

“Go,” said Loki with a wan smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “I’ll still be here in the morning.”

Thor gritted his teeth and pulled Loki into as fierce a hug as he’d ever given him. One thing he knew already: this was the brother he could save, and no power in the universe would stop him. It took a moment for Loki to return the hug, but it nearly matched Thor’s for strength.

X

Frigga was in her weaving room. When Thor entered, she turned to smile at him from her loom, and he saw the telltale signs of recent weeping on her face. The sight was enough to burst a dam within him that he never knew he’d built. His throat constricted and his vision blurred. Neither of them said a word, but seconds later, they were in each other’s arms, and he was sobbing unrestrainedly into her hair.

X

After Thor’s departure, Loki went to his chambers in the royal apartments, but with his mind so full of everything he had learned, he didn’t even try to sleep. Instead, he sat on his windowsill, idly tossing and catching a dagger as he looked out over Asgard, not really seeing it—though that would have been difficult through the heavy sheets of rain coming down. A pressure was building in the back of his thoughts like an itch, and he would have to scratch it soon, but it couldn’t quite drive everything else aside yet. Hela. Baldur. Farbauti. Laufey.

He thought about them, and he thought about less tangible things. Everything he had ever assumed he was entitled to because of his birth was only his as the result of a heinous crime, a staggering coincidence, and a charitable impulse. It had already happened, so why did knowing about it make him feel as though he was dangling from the edge of the world? So many aspects of his life had been defined by being a son of Odin and Frigga. How much of him was real if that wasn’t true? But then, how untrue was it if the lack of shared blood meant nothing to Odin, Frigga, and Thor? Did it mean nothing? What made the bonds of family if not blood? He could answer these questions no better than he could tell Tony Stark what made magic work.

Loki fought his curiosity as long as he could, but it was barely an hour before he was standing in front of his washroom mirror, attempting to brace himself for when the pale blue eyes looking back at him turned vivid red. This was the final lie to strip away.

Undoing the first bit of magic he ever performed should have been as simple as getting undressed, but the harder he tried, the more he felt a force pushing back. His shapeshifting abilities had never failed him, and he had never experienced anything like this. Something was blocking him from returning to his true form. He had a strong suspicion as to what it was, but the idea of confronting Odin about it was not inviting. So he thought of how he might get around the block without him.

The answer was obvious.

X

So much had happened that it was hard for Thor to believe that it hadn’t even been twelve hours since Director Fury entrusted him and Loki with the Tesseract. He felt much calmer after visiting his mother, but he still doubted he would be able to sleep if he tried, and he didn’t want to crowd Loki too much, so instead he went to see how his friends fared.

A servant informed him that Lady Sif and the Warriors Three had left the palace and Darcy had already retired to her rooms. Unsurprisingly, the scientists were all in the library. He passed Banner and Erik having an animated discussion at one of the tables, but Jane was standing beneath the slowly revolving miniature Yggdrasil with her mouth slightly open, a stack of books clutched in her arms.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” he said. “This was always my favorite part of the library. When we were boys, Loki often teased me for staring at it and fantasizing about the adventures I would have on other worlds instead of studying the words of the books in front of me.”

“It’s incredible,” said Jane. “This whole place is incredible. I must’ve pinched myself a hundred times, and I’m still not convinced it isn’t a dream. I don’t even know where to begin with my research here.”

“You will have as much time as you like to decide,” said Thor, smiling.

Her own smile faltered as she looked at him. “Hey, um. Is there a reason you always seem sad when you’re around me?”

He laughed and grimaced. “I’m sorry to have troubled you.” He teetered briefly on the verge of telling her everything, but pulled back. It was his problem, not hers, and she was so happy here. “It isn’t you. It’s been a rather complicated week for my family. Not long ago, I learned about my father’s daughter from a previous marriage whom he imprisoned because she wants to conquer the universe, Loki’s adopted and didn’t know about it until tonight, and we just found out we had another brother who died the day he was born.”

“God, I’m sorry,” said Jane. They started walking in the direction of Banner and Erik’s table. “I found out in fifth grade when we did Punnett squares and blood types in science class that my dad wasn’t my biological father, and my mom didn’t even know the name of the guy who got her pregnant. That was definitely a complicated week, but yours sounds worse.”

“I think it will be alright. All the secrets are out now, so we’re on even footing.” Unlike himself and Jane.

“That’s good,” said Jane. “You know, in such a big universe, it’s a statistical impossibility that Earth is the only planet with living organisms, which is why I’ve always believed aliens existed. But I never really thought it through far enough to imagine aliens with family drama. Is it mean to say that’s reassuring?”

Thor laughed again, this time without the grimace. “I don’t think so. We have more in common than we think, no matter what worlds we come from. It’s something I wish I had realized earlier.”

X

Loki had been moving about the palace undetected (and many places far more distant) for centuries, so making his way to the lowest level was quite simple. Barely a quarter of an hour after leaving his chambers, he was slipping through the golden doors of the Vault. He eased them shut and dropped his cloaking spell.

“You have come sooner than I expected.”

It took him every ounce of self-control not to jump out of his skin. He was such a fool. He should have realized the absence of guards at the door had been no accident. He turned reluctantly to face Odin, who was standing beside the plinth that held the Casket of Ancient Winters. “You knew I would come.” He was tense, ready to flee back through the doors, but Odin seemed relaxed, if in a heavy, burdened sort of way.

“It must have frustrated you when you could not transform, and only two solutions would have presented themselves. I can see why the Casket would hold greater appeal than speaking with me after tonight.”

Loki did not at all like being predictable, but it was better than being suspected of having some nefarious motive. He was a Frost Giant sneaking into the Allfather’s Vault, after all. He would not have been surprised if the Destroyer had attacked the second he set foot inside. He walked slowly down the stairs and past the other relics until he was nearly level with Odin.

“You blocked me from changing back.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“One night during your first winter on Asgard, Frigga found that you had reverted to your true form in your sleep. A reaction to the cold, I suppose. Remarkable, how instinctive you have always been with your seidr. You turned Aes again when she picked you up. We couldn’t risk it happening around anyone we didn’t trust, so I cast a spell to block that particular transformation.” He looked over at Loki for the first time. “Now that you know the truth, it has outlived its purpose. I will lift it, if you ask it of me.”

Loki wanted to ask it, and yet he didn’t. He had wanted to get the whole thing over with in secret, and while he wasn’t happy to have his powers restricted by a spell, he also wasn’t sure he liked the idea that he might revert to Jotun form inadvertently without that spell in place. “You wouldn’t think me disloyal?” he said.

“Is it disloyal to be curious about your origins, your natural appearance, how it feels?” said Odin.

Loki closed his eyes. “Perhaps not.”

Odin moved a step closer, frowning. “Why do you brace as if for a blow every time I speak? What is it you expect to hear?”

The rebuke “No, Loki.” from Thor’s memories echoed across Loki’s mind, and he saw his own hand releasing Gungnir. “I don’t know,” he said. It was true. He didn’t know any of the details surrounding that moment, and it had already been thwarted. Here he stood two full days past when that ought to have happened, still on firm ground. And yet it needled at him. How could he be sure he would not earn that rebuke again? What if that was the one thing that Thor couldn’t change?

“I do want you to lift the spell.” He said it more to break the silence than anything.

Odin nodded and clasped the back of his neck as Thor often did, then laid his right hand over Loki’s heart. Loki felt something hot beneath his skin. Odin pulled his palm back, drawing his fingers close together. The hot sensation gathered to a point before a string of golden runes emerged from the front of his surcoat where Odin had touched him. They floated out a few inches, shattered into sparks, and disappeared.

“It is done,” said Odin, releasing Loki and stepping back.

Loki waited to feel different, for his flesh to crawl as it recognized its own wrongness. Nothing happened, so he probed inside himself with his seidr. After a moment or two, he found something like a knot of magic. He had never noticed that before. It must be his spell. He gave it a tug, just to test it, but it unraveled. At once, the cool air became sweltering against his skin. He hadn’t meant to do it right here in front of Odin, and his eyes flew open in panic. He immediately had to squint against what had previously been dim light. He looked down at his hands. They were blue, with dark nails and lines that decorated the flesh and disappeared beneath his cuffs. His breaths came faster and his heart pounded. “Father?” The word escaped him without his permission, and he hated how much he sounded like a frightened child.

“I’m right here.” Two crimson eyes met one blue. Concern creased Odin’s brow. “So much fear. You don’t need it. Whatever form you take, you will always be Loki Odinson.”

The words were like a lifeline, and Loki clenched his jaw in an effort to keep his composure.

“I have learned far more about being a father by raising you than I ever did from Hela or Thor,” said Odin. “However, it seems I was still an inattentive pupil. I would like to do better. That is the other reason I came here to head you off.”

“What?” said Loki.

“The Casket,” said Odin, gesturing to the relic beside him.

Loki looked at it, intending only a brief glance, but with his new eyes, he suddenly saw so much more than a glowing blue box. It was as if it held every winter storm that had ever blown inside it. The colors were vivid and distinct, and there was sound as well, ranging from the tinkling of ice crystals to the groans of massive glaciers. Everything he had ever heard about the Jotnar, their assault on Midgard, and the war had led him to expect that there could be nothing good or even neutral about their powers over ice. When Odin had brought him and Thor to the vault as boys, he had thought the swirling lights in the Casket seemed angry and trapped. But now he could feel that power washing over him. He felt it in the markings in his skin, like tingling lines of ice. It was not savage or violent, but invigorating and peaceful. It was like encountering some unfathomably vast creature and finding that, instead of seeking to crush him between two fingers, it only wanted to hold him in its palm and keep him safe from destructive heat.

“It’s yours.”

Loki tore his gaze from the Casket to gape at Odin. “Mine?”

“It has sat in this vault for a thousand years, harming no more of Laufey’s would-be victims, but doing no good either. I think it is time that changed, particularly if there is to be a true alliance with Jotunheim.”

He patted Loki’s shoulder and began to walk back towards the exit. Loki remained rooted to the spot, completely overwhelmed.

“One more thing,” said Odin from somewhere close to the door. “Your mother made an excellent suggestion after you left the study. In the morning, if you are agreeable, I would like to send a messenger to Lord Freyr and Lady Gerd on Vanaheim to invite them to Asgard.”

Loki’s brow furrowed in confusion, and he turned to stare at him. “Why?” He had met Lord Freyr before, of course. He was Frigga’s second cousin and one of the more powerful Vanir nobles, but Lady Gerd, his Ljosalfr bride (whose beauty he never ceased to speak of), had always been something of a mystery.

“Because Lady Gerd is not from Alfheim originally. Like you, she is Jotun. I’m sure you have many questions, or you will soon. The palace library is somewhat deficient in the subject of the Jotnar, and while your mother and I and Lady Eir have learned as much about them as we could for your sake, I fear we are poor substitutes for one with first-hand experience.”

Loki was once again at a loss. When Odin had described the refugee skamrborn living on Alfheim, he had pictured them as objects of pity, tolerated but not welcomed. But at least one of them had been raised to a high enough position on Alfheim to catch the eye of a Vanr lord.

It seemed he had much to learn. “Thank you,” he said. “I would like to meet her.”

Chapter Text

The next day was a busy one. Whatever awkwardness might have lain over the House of Odin under the circumstances could not hold against the sense of purpose and determination that united them. They had work to do.

In the council chambers, the four of them stood like the points of a compass around the console that projected a miniature Yggdrasil into the air. Unlike the one in the library, this wasn’t merely decorative, but could be manipulated and magnified. It was most often used to plan battle strategy or new trade routes. Thor relied on it extensively to illustrate as he recounted everything he knew about Malekith and Thanos. His father, mother, and brother listened intently, interrupting him only to ask for clarification at certain points. Later, there would be meetings with Odin’s council, but only after they settled on a narrative that wouldn’t cause undue alarm.

After a while, Thor noticed that his father seemed particularly focused on those two villains. He had, in fact, been the one to open the discussions on them. However, he had yet to mention their other problem. So Thor decided he would do it for him. “What are we going to do about Hela?” he asked.

All eyes turned to Odin. He didn’t return their gazes, but silently stared at a spot in Yggdrasil’s roots. Thor reached for that spot and expanded it until they could see a bleak asteroid belt that revolved around a particularly remote star.

Niflheim.

“It may be possible to strengthen her prison,” said Odin.

“And if it isn’t?” said Thor. “We wouldn’t know for certain until after your death, and if she still managed to escape, Ragnarok would be unavoidable.”

Odin closed his eye. “You’re telling me I must choose between allowing the destruction of my kingdom and murdering my only daughter.”

Thor held up his hands. “Give me a third option.”

Odin had no answer. He knew Thor was right. Thor glanced at Loki. He was looking covertly at Odin, but Thor was caught by his expression. It was the sort of look that made it hard to blame Sif for thinking that he was always up to something. He wasn’t sure that boded well.

“Let us not speak of Hela for now,” said Frigga gently. “There is time.”

“Very well,” said Thor, suddenly glad for the excuse to change the subject. “When it comes to Thanos, our first priority should be to fortify Nidavellir.” He flung up a hand to make the miniature Yggdrasil back away from Niflheim so that he could find the speck of light he wanted and expand it instead. “If he cannot press Eitri into making that thrice-damned Gauntlet, he’ll not be able to use the Stones together even if he acquires them.”

“Agreed,” said Odin.

“Would he not simply seek an alternative?” said Loki.

“He will not wish to settle for an inferior weapon,” said Odin. His expression was grimly satisfied. “Not when his prototype Gauntlet has sat in my Vault since we last met.”

“With the Bifrost intact, will he risk an assault on Yggdrasil at all?” said Frigga.

“He has the Mind Stone already,” said Thor. “If he succeeds in finding Power and Soul, or even just one of them, he may feel confident enough to do more than wait in the shadows, even against an Asgard at full strength.”

They spent the next half hour or so discussing how they could increase the protections around Nidavellir. Then they turned to the subject of the Dokkalfar. Odin placed a hand on the console, and golden sparks swarmed up out of it to form a miniature Heimdall. He put fist to heart and bowed his helmeted head to Odin. “Heimdall,” said Odin. “Have you any news of Malekith’s ship?”

“No, my king,” he said. “I have looked all along the route from Asgard to Svartalfheim and elsewhere. There is no sign of it.”

“It was always unlikely we would find them so easily,” said Thor, trying not to feel too disappointed. “They couldn’t have remained hidden for an entire lifetime if it was as simple as looking.”

“What cloaking spell could remain so strong for five thousand years?” said Odin.

Frowning, Loki touched the console. In addition to the interactive map of Yggdrasil and communications, it was also linked to all of Asgard’s archives, dating back to the reign of Buri. Above the image of Heimdall, Loki conjured scenes from the Aesir–Dokkalfar war. It only took a moment for him to isolate Malekith’s flagship. The battle around it vanished, leaving the intangible craft revolving slowly above them, a sinister black cross with gleaming red lights.

“Of course,” said Frigga.

“What?” said Thor and Odin together.

“The Aether was in Malekith’s possession long before Bor took it. Malekith may not have achieved his final objective, but he had time to study it and use it to build a fleet of perfect stealth ships.”

“Is there no way to penetrate the illusion?” said Thor.

“Perhaps if we had the Aether,” said Heimdall.

Thor shook his head. “Even if we could find it, disturbing it would only wake the Dokkalfar and ruin our advantage.”

“What about another Infinity Stone?” said Loki. He held up a hand, and the Tesseract appeared in it, casting its vivid blue glow over them. The movements were so similar to when he’d traded it for Thor’s life on the Statesman that Thor flinched.

“If one Infinity Stone could be used to find its fellows, then Thanos would already have them all,” said Odin.

“That may not be true,” said Thor slowly. A grin was spreading over his face as an idea sparked in his mind. There was one man who could trace an Infinity Stone using another, and it wasn’t Thanos. “Perhaps he simply lacks the right PhDs.”

X

Thor and Loki found Banner in his new laboratory (a spacious room one level down from his sleeping quarters, which Loki had filled with everything he’d taken from Dr. Sterns). He was trailing behind Birgir Halvarson, one of the servants who oversaw guest accommodations, as the lad explained how to use the Asgardian technology. Birgir noticed the princes first, and he sprang to attention, smacking fist to heart so quickly that they could hear the thunk all the way from the door.

“Excuse us, Birgir,” said Loki. “We need to borrow your charge for a moment.”

“Yes, my prince,” he said, and he bowed to each of them and left the room.

“Nice kid,” said Banner.

“He’s seven hundred years older than you,” said Loki, amused.

Banner grimaced. “Did...uh...you guys need something?” He said it politely, but he seemed a bit nervous and reluctant.

“Yes,” said Thor, happy to be able to offer Banner a chance to prove himself powerful and useful without the Hulk. “We need your expertise.”

“My expertise?” said Banner, reluctance replaced with confusion. “I barely know how to operate your refrigeration systems.”

“Asgard’s technology is far more advanced than what you are accustomed to, yes,” said Loki, “but it relies rather heavily upon magic. In this particular case, that may be a hindrance. Birgir and others will help familiarize you with everything, and when you are comfortable—” He paused and produced the Tesseract again, then placed it into one of the gold containment fields positioned around the laboratory. “—we hope you will be able to devise a means of tracing the energy signature of an Infinity Stone for us.”

“One of the most dangerous threats against both our worlds once had access to a similar power source,” said Thor. “While they had it, they used it to build a fleet of ships that cannot be detected by any Asgardian means. We need to find the last ship before the warriors on board awaken from their stasis and attack.”

“Yeah, sure, I’ll see what I can do,” said Banner.

“We will supply whatever materials and equipment you need,” said Loki. “If you think it will be easier to use some Earth technology, perhaps Director Fury can be persuaded to supply it. And you can of course work with Drs. Selvig and Foster.”

X

Lord Freyr and Lady Gerd responded to Odin’s invitation at once. They had not been expecting it, but they were family, if of a distant sort, and they were undoubtedly curious.

In the evening, Loki rode out with Thor to Himinbjorg to greet their guests, as they usually did for visiting nobility. Thor had been just as surprised to learn that Lady Gerd was Jotun as Loki had been, but he had recovered quickly and declared his eagerness to finally meet his cousin’s wife. He spent much of the ride, once they were clear of the city and any curious ears, musing about what advice Lady Gerd would have about improving relations with Jotunheim and how quickly Loki would learn how to use his latent Jotun abilities. Then he strayed off-topic as he imagined aloud how the two of them could combine their abilities to summon a thundersnow storm of epic proportions.

Loki let Thor prattle on, feigning irritation even though he was secretly amused. He hadn’t had much time to think about Lady Gerd since Odin voiced his intent to invite her to Asgard, but he couldn’t deny that he was nervous. The only Jotnar he had ever met were the three he had lured to the Vault to disrupt the coronation, and he hadn’t exactly enjoyed any pleasant chats with them. Towering over him in that dark, frozen place, barely clothed and hairless, their scarlet eyes alight with greed when he told them how to reach the Casket, they had seemed to match every tale he had heard as a child of dull-witted, monstrous brutes. How much of that had been him seeing what he expected to see and how much was reality? To know for sure, he would need to meet more Jotnar raised on Jotunheim, but Gerd was certainly a start.

The Bifrost activated just as they neared Himinbjorg, but they were still yards from the entrance and hadn’t dismounted yet when a magnificent palomino came charging out, its very young rider laughing and whooping. The boy couldn’t be more than two centuries old. The pointed tips of his ears poked out from between wild, white-blond curls. He wore a very fine tunic and coat, and a large silver pendant bounced off his chest with each stride of his horse, which ran past Heimdall and burst out onto the bridge, nearly spooking Gladr and Lettfeti.

Two more horses followed before Thor and Loki could so much as exchange bewildered glances. They veered around Heimdall and chased after the first horse.

“Fjolnir, get back here this instant!” shouted the rider in front. She greatly resembled the boy, though her pointed ears were rather longer, as was the elaborately braided hair flying behind her, and her face was flushed with mortification rather than excitement. She, too, wore a heavy silver pendant. “This is not how we greet our hosts!”

“But it’s Asgard, Mama,” said the boy, pouting as he reined in his horse. “I’ve wanted to come here for ages.”

“That’s no excuse to forget your manners,” she said sternly. The impact of the chastisement was somewhat ruined by the fact that both Thor and her husband, a broadshouldered man with curly red hair and beard, were doubled over laughing. Even Heimdall was chuckling behind them in the Observatory.

Loki forced himself to recover from his shock at how normal she seemed—and with a child!—so that he could address her. “Lady Gerd, as you can see, we take no offense,” he said. “We well remember what it was to be young boys on an adventure.”

“Yes, it is an honor to meet you both, and to see you again, Cousin,” said Thor.

Lord Freyr grinned. “You as well,” he said. “Prince Thor, Prince Loki, allow me to introduce my beloved Gerd and our son Fjolnir, who is very keen to be on a realm other than Vanaheim or Alfheim for the first time in his life.”

“You are the princes?” said Fjolnir, his eyes very round.

“We are,” said Thor. “And if this is your first time on Asgard, I think that calls for something special. How would you like to get a better view?”

“A better view?” he said, cocking his head.

“Yes,” said Thor. “Instead of riding all the way to Gladsheim on your horse, I could fly you there with Mjolnir.” At an apprehensive sound from Lady Gerd, he hesitated. “If your mother agrees, that is.”

Fjolnir bounced in his saddle. “Can I, Mama, please?” He stuck out his bottom lip and looked at her beseechingly with his large, innocent eyes.

“Oh, very well,” she sighed, but her hand shot out to grab Thor’s arm, and she fixed him with such a glare that he gave an audible gulp. “If he comes to any harm, Odinson, I will make you rue the day you were born.” Behind her, Freyr was grinning—at least until she glanced over at him, at which point he hastily adopted the demeanor of a funeral attendee.

“Not to worry,” said Loki, who was more successful at keeping a straight face. “Thor has been known to carry mortals around when he flies, and even they have lived to tell the tale.”

“I’m not sure that’s helpful, Brother,” Thor muttered.

“Go before I change my mind,” said Gerd.

Fjolnir cheered and jumped down from his horse. Thor dismounted Gladr and scooped the boy up with his left arm, instructed him to hold on, then spun Mjolnir and flew off. He went at a considerably slower speed than what the hammer was capable of, but Fjolnir shrieked with laughter, and Loki, Gerd, and Freyr all watched until they were just a speck in the distance.

Chapter Text

As Freyr and Gerd’s servants and belongings had arrived earlier, Thor’s departure with Fjolnir left Loki alone with them and the two riderless horses. Loki very much doubted that Thor had done this deliberately, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t take advantage of the situation. “You responded very quickly to my father’s invitation,” he observed as they rode towards the city. “I would love to know what he said to inspire such haste.”

“Simply that it was high time our families met properly,” said Freyr, “and that he feels we are uniquely positioned to advise him on strengthening the bonds between our realms.” It was the answer Loki had expected. Odin would hardly have sent a messenger to directly ask for a Jotun sorceress to come answer his adopted Jotun son’s questions about their species.

“Yes,” said Loki, “I daresay at least three realms could benefit from your visit.” He glanced casually at Gerd.

She met his gaze unflinchingly. “As such, it is long overdue, wouldn’t you agree?”

“You think it worth pursuing, then?”

“What could be more worth pursuing, Prince Loki?”

“What indeed.” He glanced at the silver pendant she wore and noticed the delicate Ljosalfar script etched into it. “That is a fine necklace. I noticed Fjolnir wears a similar one.”

“Yes,” she said, touching her fingers to it, “They contain locks of my parents’ hair. We aren’t able to see them as often as we’d like, but this way we are able to keep them with us.”

Ah, so that was how Gerd and Fjolnir achieved their Ljosalfr and half-Ljosalfr appearance. Many who lacked Loki’s talent for shapeshifting relied on bespelled objects rather than investing the time it would take to master the difficult spells on their own. A lock of hair was an essential ingredient for imitating a person’s likeness. How clever to use hair from two people. Instead of assuming the identity of an individual existing Ljosalfr, Gerd actually looked like the offspring of the couple who had adopted her, and her son shared the same visible traits, mixed with those he had gotten from Freyr. The Ljosalfar had always had a knack for such innovations. Did all the other skamrborn wear similar trinkets, or were they only made for the ones who left Alfheim?

X

That evening, thousands of Aesir who lived in the city feasted at the palace, celebrating the end of another Odinsleep and honoring Asgard’s guests. Fjolnir ran between the long tables of adults with a pack of giggling boys that included Leif Volstaggson while his parents conversed politely with several nobles and council members. At the other end of the high table, the four mortals drew quite a crowd of curious people, mostly not of the nobility—with the exception of Fandral, who was again flirting with Darcy.

Feasting inevitably gave way to dancing, which lasted for hours and grew predictably raucous as the mead continued to flow. Thor remained at the high table, watching with an ache in his chest as his people and his friends enjoyed themselves, his own lighthearted mood from earlier in the day completely gone. This night could not have been more different than the way it had played out in the original timeline, where it had been the night of Loki’s premature funeral. Whispers had flown in every direction about what had led to his death and why there was no body in the boat, and most of the so-called mourners seemed more concerned about the destroyed Bifrost than by the loss of their prince. One man had been fool enough to suggest within Thor’s hearing that he had slain his own brother when he refused to surrender the throne. Thor had broken his jaw. He’d wanted to do far worse. He couldn’t even remember what that man looked like now, but he was likely somewhere among the dancers.

He was shaken out of these unpleasant recollections by the sight of Loki, Sif, and Volstagg approaching from the crowd.

“Come, Brother,” said Loki, “even Mother and Father are dancing. The longer you sit here like this, the more people will think you are sulking over missing out on the regency.”

“He’s right,” said Volstagg, whose second and third-youngest children were dangling off him. “You should be merry! It is a fine night, and all is well on Asgard!”

Sif cut straight to the chase by seizing Thor about the wrists and hauling him out of his seat and towards the dance floor. He let her do it, and a moment later, they were all dancing in the circle that included Volstagg’s wife, one or two of Lady Eir’s apprentice healers, and a tipsy, grinning Erik. Thor’s spirits were soon buoyed up as he clapped and followed the steps. Why should he sorrow over things that hadn’t and wouldn’t come to pass? There was so much still to do, but perhaps, one day, those seven years would feel like little more than a bad dream.

X

Freyr, Gerd, and Fjolnir joined the royal family for breakfast the next morning. Fjolnir insisted on sitting between Thor and Loki, who were happy to oblige him, with Odin and Frigga on either side of them across the circular table from each other, and Freyr and Gerd opposite their son.

While the adults ate, Fjolnir bombarded Thor with questions about what his hammer could do. The moment he had realized that it shared all but one letter with his own name, it had become his favorite topic of conversation. Thor indulged him, entertaining him with a few stories of enemies he had faced with Mjolnir. Loki only half listened, shooting glances at his father every few minutes. They had discussed what would happen at this meal, and the urge to leave a projection in his place and flee was strong.

“Ask him about the time he rescued your Aunt Freya from an unwanted suitor,” said Freyr.

Thor cracked a grin. “Have you never told him that tale? You were there too.”

“I thought I would save it,” said Freyr. He looked at his son. “A century or so before you were born, Freya and I went on a long hunt in the wilds south of Honir. We passed a little too near the territory of a tribe of hill ogres, and Thrym, their chieftain, caught sight of her. He decided she would make him a fine wife and sent his soldiers to capture her.”

“Fortunately,” said Thor, “Loki and I were on Vanaheim to visit our cousins at the time, and we fought Thrym’s minions back easily. Unfortunately, we celebrated a little too much afterward, and Thrym succeeded in stealing my hammer.”

“The hammer you had been given less than a year prior,” Frigga muttered.

“Yes, so I could hardly go back to Asgard without it,” said Thor, “especially with Thrym using it to make even more trouble for Honir. He demanded Freya as his bride or he would destroy the entire city.”

“What did you do?” said Fjolnir, hanging on every word.

Thor glanced at Loki, who returned his grin despite his mounting nerves. “Well, you see, after our first skirmish, Thrym became very cautious, striking the city at unexpected times, never giving us much of an opportunity to attack, and carefully concealing the locations of his camps. Loki came up with a rather devious plan to draw him out.”

“You did?” said Fjolnir.

“Well, Thrym wanted Freya, so I suggested we give her to him. Or allow him to think so. What he got instead was Thor in her wedding gown.”

Gerd choked on her drink while Thor and Freyr laughed. Frigga and Odin both looked simultaneously amused and exasperated. Fjolnir only frowned at Thor. “But you don’t look like Aunt Freya at all.”

“Does he not?” said Loki. Fjolnir turned his frown at Loki before looking back at Thor and giving a start, because in his place sat Lady Freya in a rather lovely wedding gown.

“I think that will do, Brother.” Thor’s normal voice issued from the illusion as “Freya” rolled her eyes, and Fjolnir dissolved into a fit of giggles, his parents both laughing heartily. Loki snickered into his goblet and lifted the spell.

“We prepared a magnificent wedding feast,” said Freyr. “Thrym brought most of his men along, all heavily armed, so perhaps he suspected something.”

“The wedding proceeded to the point of the exchange of weapons,” said Thor, “which put Mjolnir back in my hand. Loki dropped the illusions and I challenged Thrym to battle. If he won, he could keep Mjolnir and try his luck with Freya. He was so furious that we tricked him that I don’t know if he heard me, but he and his men attacked. We fought, and we won. I had my hammer back, Freya remained happily unmarried, and Honir was safe at last.” Thor clunked his goblet against Loki’s and drained it.

“You’re so lucky you have a brother,” said Fjolnir, looking back and forth from Thor to Loki with an envious pout.

“I certainly think so,” said Thor. Loki rolled his eyes.

“My friend Jarl back home has two brothers,” said Fjolnir, “and I met a boy yesterday with four brothers and three sisters!” That would be Leif. There were few families on Asgard as large as Volstagg and Hildegund’s. “Mama, Papa, you should have another baby so I can have a brother.”

“We’ll work on that right away,” said Freyr with a saucy smirk at his wife.

“And what if the Norns decide you should have a sister instead?” said Gerd.

Fjolnir wrinkled his nose. “Could I still play with her?”

“Of course you could,” said Freyr.

“And when she grew big enough,” said Gerd, “you could teach her to ride her horse and help her practice her spells.”

“That wouldn’t be so bad,” said Fjolnir, as though this was a great concession on his part. “But I would rather have a brother.” With that, he dug into his breakfast.

Odin and Frigga chuckled along with the boy’s parents, before Odin gestured to the servants standing around the edges of the room to leave them. Loki’s heart began to pound. The moment was nearly upon him. Freyr raised his eyebrows. “Are we discussing matters of state already?”

“Perhaps those boys from last night are nearby,” said Gerd, starting to stand. “I’m sure Fjolnir would much rather play with them than listen to such dull adult conversation.”

“He should stay,” said Loki. His mouth was very dry. He clenched his hands beneath the table to keep them from trembling. “This concerns him too, somewhat.” He looked directly at Gerd. “How old were you when you left Jotunheim?”

Her eyes went wide, and Freyr leapt to his feet so quickly that he sent his chair flying, moving to stand in front of her, eyes darting to each of them before settling fearfully on Fjolnir, who still sat between Thor and Loki.

Loki continued as if there had been no disturbance. “I learned recently that I left when I was but two days old.” Their guests froze. He could feel Fjolnir’s confused eyes on him.

“Freyr, your family is in no danger here,” said Frigga. “Please sit.”

Gerd laid a hand on her husband’s arm, and he reluctantly righted his seat and reclaimed it. “What do you mean?” she asked, looking at Loki.

Loki glanced at Odin, who nodded and raised the fingers of his right hand an inch or so, causing curtains to drop over the windows and the fires to dim, leaving the room in semi-darkness.

He reached for that knot of seidr again and tugged. The room was suddenly warm and appeared brightly lit. “Some of us don’t require the use of an enchanted pendant to hide it.”

Gerd gaped at him in utter shock, and he could feel the stares of everyone else on him too. He couldn’t help seeking Frigga’s gaze. She was beaming at him, and she reached for his hand. He didn’t have time to whip it away, but though there was a pronounced temperature difference, her skin did not burn when she touched him. Fighting back tears of relief and grateful that he was already sitting down, Loki turned to look at Thor, whose eyes traced the lines in his flesh with fascination but not the slightest hint of hostility. Had he never seen him like this in the other timeline?

“You’re like me?” said Fjolnir. The boy wore the same look of pure wonder he’d given Thor a few times. Loki nodded, unable to speak around the lump in his throat.

Fjolnir shot an imploring look at his mother. Loki looked at her too.

“You can take it off, darling,” said Gerd. She reached for the fastener to the silver chain around her neck and released it, then set the pendant on the table before her. The moment it parted company with her skin, deep, icy blue blossomed across her. Her long, pointed ears shrank until they were hidden by her hair, which turned from white-blonde to fully white, and her leaf-green eyes became scarlet. Freyr took her hand and twined his fingers through hers. His skin didn’t burn either. The flowing dress she wore left her arms bare, so Loki could see the coiling patterns in her skin—very different from the sharp angles of his own. The marks on her face were more similar, but not quite the same.

Beside Loki, Fjolnir had also removed his pendant and set it on the table. Being half-Vanr, his transformation wasn’t quite so dramatic. His curly hair also became white and his ears lost their pointed tips, but his skin was a much paler blue and only his irises turned red. The markings on his face were identical to Gerd’s, but what little was visible of his arms and hands past the ends of his bunched-up sleeves was smooth.

“To answer your question,” said Gerd, “I was born in a remote part of Jotunheim, and my birth parents were able to hide me for several years. I have a few vague memories of them. Happy ones.”

“But it didn’t last,” said Loki.

“It couldn’t,” she said. “Eventually, the danger of keeping me with them became greater than the risk of smuggling me to Alfheim. I do not know if they still live, or if I have siblings. If I do and they were skamrborn too, they never reached Alfheim.”

“Perhaps you will soon be in a position to find out,” said Thor.

“This is the true reason we invited you to Asgard,” said Odin. “It is not Vanaheim or Alfheim we wish to discuss, but Jotunheim.”

Chapter Text

“Alright,” said Gerd. “Show me what you know of frjosleikr.”

Loki didn’t ask what frjosleikr was. He could guess based on its similarities to words for magic and freezing that it was the Jotnar’s name for their cryokinetic abilities. He fidgeted with his hands, distracted by the texture of the lines etched into his skin. “I’ve never actually used frjosleikr before,” he said.

“Never?” said Fjolnir, shocked.

The three of them were standing in the middle of the largest bath chamber in the palace. Round pools of varying temperatures were sunk into the floor in a circle and one smaller raised basin of cool water stood at the center. Heavy curtains had been drawn over the windows so that the only light came from braziers. To an Aes or Vanr, the room was dimly lit and comfortably warm, if extremely humid. To the two and a half Jotnar, it was bright and almost suffocatingly hot. Thor and Freyr stood near the door, backs to the wall, chatting and laughing together, Freyr idly twirling Gerd’s and Fjolnir’s pendants around a finger. Frigga had promised they would not be disturbed until she personally came to fetch them for a meal.

“Unlike you, I only just found out I’m Jotun, so I haven’t had much opportunity to practice.”

“All the same, I’d like to see what you can work out on your own before we show you anything,” said Gerd. “Instinct plays a large role in frjosleikr.”

Perhaps it wasn’t so different from seidr, then. Loki looked down at the water basin between them and imagined the contents freezing solid, then laid a hand flat over the surface and willed it to become ice.

Nothing happened. Loki frowned. He’d heard countless stories from the older Einherjar that a Frost Giant could freeze anything with a single touch, and he’d seen plenty of the frostbite scars that proved it. He’d been relieved beyond words to find that such an effect wasn’t automatic enough to make physical contact dangerous to the people he loved, but now he was getting annoyed.

“No, like this,” said Fjolnir after about a minute of nothing. He touched one finger to the surface of the water, and ice crystals spiked and swirled across it almost instantly.

“Fjolnir, let Prince Loki try,” said Gerd, laying her hands on his shoulders.

“Sorry, Prince Loki,” said Fjolnir. He withdrew his hand but bounced slightly where he stood, clearly bursting to get to the fun part.

Some of the water at the top of the basin was still liquid, so Loki tried again with that. He didn’t know what Fjolnir had done that was different, but he thought he’d seen him inhale as he touched the water. Loki did the same, breathing in slowly while trying to imagine the molecules slowing and locking into crystalline form as the heat left them. His eyes flew open. The water around his fingers had not frozen, but he was sure he’d felt it drop in temperature by at least a few degrees.

“A start,” said Gerd. “Describe your thought process.”

“I willed the heat to leave the water,” said Loki.

“And go where?” said Gerd.

Loki blinked.

“What do you know of our biology?”

Loki was surprised to feel his cheeks warm. “Very little,” he admitted. “There are some books on the subject,” which he knew because said books were currently stacked on the desk in his chambers, awaiting his perusal, “but I focused my studies elsewhere.” What he was less willing to admit was that he had never thought the Jotnar worth his time. All he’d believed he needed to know was how to defeat them if he ever met them in battle.

If Gerd was offended by his unnecessary ignorance, she hid it well. “You know Aesir biology, though?”

“Of course,” said Loki.

“Your knowledge is not entirely lacking, then,” she said with a faint smirk. “Fjolnir could not exist if we were not more similar to the other races of Yggdrasil than we are different, after all. There are, however, a number of ways in which Jotnar are unique. The most important is the source of our frjosleikr. Fjolnir could have been born without it, but he was lucky.”

She ruffled her son’s hair, a twinkle in her scarlet eyes, and he looked rather pleased with himself as he grinned up at Loki. What a marvel was the House of Freyr. Partly to spite the other timeline, Loki was striving to believe that being Jotun did not make him inherently lesser, but he doubted he would ever be able to consider himself lucky to have been born what he was.

“Heat is far too scarce to waste on Jotunheim, and life forms native to the realm have a number of adaptations in order to function at extremely low temperatures. For us, these include glands that secrete a substance to lower the freezing point of our blood, which is where we get our coloring. Other races leak their heat like sieves, but our skin traps nearly all of it inside, which is why we are so cold to the touch.”

“Then how are we not already dead of heat stroke just by standing in this room?” said Loki. If they retained all of their own body heat, it shouldn’t be possible to introduce additional heat without significant problems.

“Because of the bruni-magi,” said Gerd. Loki nearly jumped when she reached across the basin and jabbed his midriff at a point about halfway between his navel and his ribcage. “It is an organ that collects excess heat and converts it into usable energy, located between the stomach and the liver.”

“Ah,” said Loki, “then I should have been trying to draw the heat from the water inward.”

Gerd smiled. “You are clever. Yes.” She reached for the water, and did a slower, more exaggerated movement than Fjolnir had as she touched it, and Loki could see that she while she was inhaling, she was also contracting all of her abdominal muscles. More of the water froze.

Loki reached down and imitated her movements, and this time he closed his eyes and imagined drawing the heat to him with the motion. “There it is,” said Gerd. “Pull the heat in. You will be able to feel it the more you do it. Like a fire inside you.” There was a sensation not unlike drinking hot cider, except that it trickled up his arm rather than down his throat, before pooling at a spot near where Gerd had poked him.

“You did it!” cried Fjolnir excitedly. Loki opened his eyes and saw that there was indeed a thin patch of ice beneath each of his fingertips. Fjolnir leaned to the side so he could see Freyr around Loki. “Papa, Prince Loki made ice!”

“Well done,” said Freyr. “What excellent teachers my wife and son are!”

“Loki was always the better student of the two of us,” said Thor.

“You say that as though you were ever much competition,” said Loki, torn between embarrassment at being praised for so small an accomplishment and satisfaction that he had at least worked out how to do it.

“Now,” said Gerd, “we can only draw heat in up until a certain point. After that, you must release it or risk a frjosleikr fever, which can be deadly. You will know when you are close to danger.”

“How do I release it?” said Loki.

She smiled again and drew her hand up above the partially frozen water. The ice followed her motion and reshaped itself into the figure of a horse. Fjolnir had started bouncing again. Gerd splayed out her fingers and the figure disintegrated into glittering frost powder.

“So...we can digest heat and turn it into energy for magic?” That was...remarkably efficient.

Gerd nodded. “What does it feel like now?”

Loki frowned. He hadn’t realized it until she drew his attention to it, but the hot cider sensation wasn’t quite the same now. “It’s like...a coiled spring,” he said slowly. Completely different from the way seidr felt. He also noticed that he was more aware of the ice they had made, even what was left of the frost. He could see the patterns in it, and he had the sense that there was something more just out of his reach. With seidr, he could have moved the ice anywhere he wanted it to go, but he wasn’t sure what to do with the new source of energy.

“That’s frjosleikr. Most Jotnar’s bodies are able to use the energy from heat for normal biological functions, and only the excess is available for frjosleikr, but there are mutations that block the production of the enzymes that facilitate the energy conversions. The result is—”

“Skamrborn,” Loki realized. “We only have the enzymes for frjosleikr, which accounts for our height.”

“Precisely.”

“Does the reverse ever happen?”

“It does,” said Gerd. “They are called mikillborn.” The term connoted power and strength, not just great height, so Loki could already guess how such Jotnar were perceived. However, Gerd’s brow creased with sympathy as she spoke of them. “They are even more rare than we are, at least as adults.” She touched the water again, and as it hardened, three little ice figures rose up out of it. One was barely an inch tall, the next was about two inches, and the third was at least three inches. “Their size considerably shortens their lifespan, and they cannot leave Jotunheim at all or they would fatally overheat within hours.” The largest ice figure crumbled. “Normal Jotnar can tolerate higher temperatures for perhaps a few days before succumbing to deadly fevers.” The second figure followed the first, leaving the smallest standing alone on a thin plane of ice. “We skamrborn can survive away from Jotunheim indefinitely as long as we don’t overexert ourselves.”

Perhaps that was why the refugee skamrborn were safe on Alfheim—not just because they could survive in its climate, but because larger Jotnar could not safely pursue them. It also explained why Laufey had never been able to make another assault on Midgard. Without the Casket, his armies would wither and die there.

“What happens when we do?” he asked. “Is it like seidr exhaustion?”

Gerd shook her head, her eyes wide. “If only it were. I would rather have seidr exhaustion for a month than a frjosleikr fever. It is absolutely miserable. Be very careful how hard you push yourself.”

Loki nodded. He wondered what Stark would make of this. In ten minutes, he’d gained more technical knowledge about how Jotun magic worked than he’d learned about seidr in his entire life. He was going to have to rectify that. The work of a scholar was never done.

“Well,” said Gerd, suddenly very businesslike. “You understand the basics now. I think another test is in order.”

Loki concealed his alarm. “What sort of test?”

“As I said, frjosleikr is largely instinctive. What better way to test one’s instincts than to be thrown into a situation where they are needed? There will be time to teach you the eighteen crystalline structures of ice, how to control lattice size and texture, and how to discover the ideal shape of your fetils svell. For now, your task is to land one snowball strike against Fjolnir.”

“I beg your pardon?” said Loki, but his words were drowned by a jubilant war-cry from Fjolnir. The boy plunged his hand into the basin, then pulled it out a second later clutching a perfect sphere of snow, which he pelted straight at Loki’s face.

Loki didn’t even have time for an indignant reaction. Fjolnir was giving no quarter, and Loki took another two snowballs to the ear and shoulder before he could so much as duck behind the basin. It was so ridiculous that he couldn’t be angry, even though Thor and Freyr were now laughing so hard they had to hold onto each other to stay on their feet. “You treacherous little fiend,” said Loki, his tone more complimentary than accusatory, “you knew this was going to happen, didn’t you?”

“Yep!” said Fjolnir without the faintest hint of remorse, popping up around the side of the basin and letting fly snowballs four and five. Loki threw up a cloaking spell without thinking and sent two simulacra in different directions to cover his retreat.

“Hey!” shouted the boy. “No seidr! We’re practicing frjosleikr only!”

Gritting his teeth, Loki uncloaked, but he didn’t need to dispell the simulacra, as Fjolnir had already done so with more snowballs. He succeeded in dodging the next one to come his way, but his failure to retaliate was giving his foe time to stockpile ammunition and take careful aim.

Loki threw himself to the ground in a roll past the next snowball and stuck his hand into the nearest bath. It was far hotter than the water in the basin, and the heat shot through him with such intensity that it left him gasping until it settled in his stomach—or his bruni-magi, he supposed. It definitely felt like a fire now, which quickly became a buzzing tension, less reminiscent of a coiled spring than of a hive of swarming bees. It all happened in mere seconds (during which he was struck with at least three more snowballs). He tried to send the writhing energy back into the ice to make one of his own. The ice did change shape, but only into an irregular lump, still made of solid ice. He scowled. How in the Nine was he supposed to do this while under constant assault? It wasn’t that the snowballs hurt—they didn’t even feel colder than his skin—but he couldn’t concentrate at all with them constantly raining down.

X

When Frigga opened the door of the bath chamber to invite her sons and cousins to the midday meal, the sudden chill stole her breath away.

“Ahahaha, I am the Snow King!” a young voice roared. “All princes of Asgard and lords of Vanaheim shall tremble before me!”

It took a few seconds for Frigga’s eyes to adjust, and when they did, it was difficult not to burst out laughing. There was very little liquid water left in any of the baths, and it looked like the room had been hit by a blizzard. Fjolnir stood atop a battlement of snow on the far side of the chamber, tall pyramids of snowballs stacked on either side of him. Thor and Freyr crouched behind a much less impressive wall of snow not far from the door. They were both completely soaked, and when they turned to look at her, their grinning faces were bright pink from the cold. Gerd sat primly on a chair made of ice, completely untouched by the fearsome battle.

Frigga took a few more steps forward, and Loki came into view where he was lying sprawled out at the bottom of the nearest bath, breathing hard, caked in snow and partially buried in pieces of ice in various lumpy shapes. He looked sullenly up at her. He had been struck by so many snowballs that they had freed his hair from its usual slick confines, leaving it sticking out in the kind of untamed curls he had not allowed since he was old enough to dress himself. Now was probably not the time for another attempt to persuade him that they were very handsome curls.

“How go the lessons?” she asked.

“Poorly.”

Chapter Text

One of the first things Thor had done after learning to fly with Mjolnir was to satisfy his own curiosity about what was on the underside of Asgard. He had been shown many images of it by his tutors as he sat through lesson after lesson on how King Buri had built the realm and how it differed from natural planets, but he still wanted to see it for himself. He had flown out to the edge and past it, then down and back through the curtains of falling water to the great mountains of crystal that rose many times higher than Gladsheim. Gravity was much weaker on that side, but it was strong enough for several more tenacious plant species to cling to the crevices between rocks, and he saw a few birds making their nests amid the coiled roots and branches.

While Banner, Jane, and Erik studied the Tesseract in hopes of making a device that could locate the Dokkalfar army and Loki continued his frjosleikr lessons with Gerd and Fjolnir, Thor made the trip to the underside of the world again, this time for a different reason. Instead of gazing mesmerized at the dazzling crystal formations, he looked down past Asgard into the star-speckled blackness of space.

No matter how carefully he looked, however, he could not find what he sought. The maelstrom of a portal that had brought him, Banner, and the Valkyrie to Asgard should have been easily visible from here, and yet it did not seem to be there. How could that be?

Disgruntled, he flew back topside and made for Himinbjorg.

“Did you enjoy the view?” said Heimdall as he stepped inside.

“Not as much as I would have if I’d found what I was looking for.”

Heimdall raised an eyebrow.

“You haven’t noticed a portal leading to Sakaar from Asgard, have you?” Thor asked.

“No.”

“It’s massive. You can’t miss it if it’s there.”

“Then it is not.”

Thor deflated.

“What business would take you to a world so far beyond Yggdrasil’s branches?”

“Nothing urgent,” said Thor. “Just a friend I was hoping to meet a little sooner this time around.”

Heimdall inclined his head. “If a portal appears, I will be sure to inform you, but such things do not generally form on their own.”

“Thank you, Heimdall.” Thor left for the palace, disappointed. With his brother and many of his friends so occupied with important tasks to which he could offer no help, he had been entertaining a half-formed notion of flying through that portal, finding the Valkyrie and perhaps Korg and the other pit fighters who had so nobly died defending the Statesman during Thanos’s raid, and bringing them back to Asgard. With Mjolnir in hand and knowledge of Sakaar’s portals, he had imagined such a trip might take him no longer than a day or two. But if the portal he wanted to use wasn’t even there… Sakaar was about as far away from Asgard as any known system—well beyond the limits of the Bifrost’s reach. Traveling that far with the Tesseract would be a simple thing, but he didn’t want to remove it from Asgard now that it was here.

It would be difficult to justify a trip to Sakaar if there wasn’t an easy way to get there, but he supposed he would have to resign himself to waiting. The Valkyrie wasn’t going to drink herself to death within the next seven years, but he hated the idea of leaving her in that miserable drunken stupor any longer than he had to.

When he reached the suite of chambers that had become the laboratory of the human scientists, he found the three of them explaining what looked like a schematic to Vidar, one of Asgard’s foremost engineers. He had initially been skeptical about working with mortals, but he would do whatever the security of the realm required without complaint. It likely also helped that the humans no longer looked so out of place, as they all wore Asgardian clothing and had grown less awkward in their new surroundings over the last few days.

Vidar straightened and put fist to heart at the sight of Thor, and Banner, Jane, and Erik all smiled at him. “Hey, how’s it going?” said Banner.

“Very well,” said Thor. “And for you?”

“I’m still not used to being free to make whatever I can think of without having to write pages of grant proposals before I can start working!” said Erik.

“Or not having to make do with a limited budget when one finally gets accepted,” said Banner.

“We’ve drawn up some designs we can start working on,” said Jane. Here, she nodded at Vidar. “But...we might have a problem.”

“What’s that?” said Thor.

“You want us to track down something that was made with an Infinity Stone over five thousand years ago, but the only thing we have to give us an idea of the type of energy signature we’re looking for is a different Infinity Stone that we’ve never studied,” said Banner.

“We can look for anything with a matching signature,” said Erik, “and Asgardian technology will make it simple to extend our search by light-years more than what we could do with Earth technology, but if the Stones are different, it won’t be much better than flying into space at random and hoping we happen to bump into the ship.”

Thor frowned. “Is there nothing Asgard can provide to solve this problem?”

Vidar shook his head. “I can help them build whatever they design, my prince, but finding the Dokkalfar ship is already beyond our capabilities.”

“We get that it’s too dangerous to do anything with the Aether until after you deal with these Dark Elf guys,” said Jane, “but maybe if we had something that was made using it?”

“If the Aether itself has been missing for five millennia, that might be pretty hard to find,” said Banner.

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” said Thor. “Would an entire battlefield of downed Dokkalfar ships suffice?” They all stared at him, so he elaborated. “Svartalfheim is a dead world; the ships that fell haven’t been touched since the war, and they’re exactly like the one we’re looking for, only smaller.”

A grin broke out over Jane’s face. “That—yeah, I think that would do it,” she said.

“More than that, studying those ships would help us know their layouts and weaknesses,” said Vidar. “Though there may already be a great deal on that in the war archives.”

“Yes,” said Thor. “Malekith is ruthless and cunning. We should learn everything we can so he won’t have a chance to slip past us. Is there anything else you require?”

“If we could see how an Infinity Stone interacts with a device made using its power,” said Erik, “that might also help us refine our search.”

“I don’t see why you can’t have both. The Tesseract can be used to travel anywhere in the universe. Surely you can use it to create such a device. Perhaps one we might use to travel beyond the reach of the Bifrost.”

“So...you want us to design a transporter with unlimited range just to use as a control group for playing intergalactic hide-and-seek?” said Banner.

“Why, is that unreasonable?” said Thor blandly. It was moments like this that he best understood Loki’s love of mischief. The play of indignation, bewilderment, and defiance on all three scientists’ faces was quite amusing to watch.

X

The following day, Thor, Sif, the Warriors Three, and a small company of Einherjar accompanied Jane, Erik, and Banner to Svartalfheim. Only one of the humans really needed to come and help identify the materials they needed, but they all jumped at the chance to visit another world, so Thor couldn’t deny them. Thor had of course invited Loki too, but he preferred to continue his training with Gerd and Fjolnir over fetching scraps of Dokkalfar technology and taking stock of the layout and defenses of their ships. As Loki had spurned many an invitation over the centuries and then seemed distant and resentful when Thor accepted it and left without him, Thor asked a few more times to make sure he really meant it until Loki lost all patience and slammed his chamber door in Thor’s face.

Thor did not particularly like having to go back to Svartalfheim, but he concealed this as best he could—a feat made easier by the knowledge that his mother and brother were both safe and well on Asgard. They flew into the Bifrost on two skiffs and emerged in the barren black wastes of the Dokkalfar’s realm.

“This place used to be habitable?” said Banner, staring at the landscape.

“It was before my grandfather finished with it,” said Thor grimly.

“You mean the war ruined the whole planet?”

“No more than the Dokkalfar deserved.”

Banner raised his eyebrows. “They’re that bad, huh? And you’re looking to find what’s left of them and kill them too?”

Thor noticed his tone and scowled at him. “How else would you deal with a people that wants to extinguish all life in the cosmos but themselves?” The very idea of offering mercy to those who had killed his mother, nearly killed Loki, and brought so much destruction upon Asgard made him bristle. They would do it all again if they had the chance, and he would not allow it.

Banner lifted his hands. “Hey, I’m sure you know more about it than I do, and if that’s their goal, then maybe you don’t have a choice. It’s just that when I left Earth, I didn’t think I was going to be helping you commit genocide.”

Thor’s own words rang in his ears. You can’t kill an entire race! But the comparison was absurd. It wasn’t the same as turning the Bifrost on Jotunheim. The Dokkalfar would carry out Malekith’s plans. Thor had already lived through it. They were guilty. If Banner’s words inspired some slight squirming sensation in his stomach, he ignored it.

Moments later, they crested a hill and were suddenly overlooking the largest battlefield Thor had ever seen. The ground was littered with Dokkalfar skeletons still clad in their armor and eerie white masks, and the shattered remnants of at least a dozen ships just like Malekith’s rose across the land like small, jagged mountains. There were traces here and there of Bor’s army—golden weapons and pieces of broken armor scattered amongst the bodies—but Bor would have seen to it that none of Asgard’s fallen remained. They had surely all been given warrior’s funerals back home.

Thor saw Jane shiver slightly on the other skiff at the sight. His fellow Aesir and Hogun all regarded the battlefield with fierce eyes and clenched jaws. Undoubtedly they were imagining the battle itself, and remembering the stories of this war and how Malekith had smashed his own ships atop the fighters in his final attempt to crush Bor’s forces.

The party flew to the nearest of the downed ships. The hull had been shredded when it collided with the planet’s surface, so it was easy for them to make their way inside. The Aesir helped the mortals navigate the treacherous terrain, and they in turn pointed out items and bits of ruined machinery they thought could prove useful. Volstagg and Fandral led a few of the Einherjar deeper into the ships to take a more thorough stock of them. 

After several hours, they had all completed their tasks. No one objected to heading back to Asgard. Though purposeful, it had not been a very enjoyable trip.

X

For an entire fortnight now, Loki had continued to lose snowball fights against Fjolnir every morning. The only progress he was making in frjosleikr (as Gerd refused to volunteer any further instruction until he cleared this absurd hurdle, and he wasn’t going to ask) was that he was now much better at controlling the shape of the pieces of ice he made. Nothing he had tried so far made the slightest impact on its actual consistency, though, and he would never land a snowball strike on the boy if he couldn’t make snow in the first place. However, each defeat only made him more single-minded. He was sure there was plenty going on with the mortals’ efforts to locate Malekith’s army and other preparations based on Thor’s information, but his focus was entirely on mastering these abilities.

“Fjolnir won again?” said Thor as Loki stalked past him in the corridor on the way back to his chambers.

Loki glared at him, which didn’t stop him from falling into step at his side. “Choose your words with care, Brother. You missed out on being the target of a thousand years of ice-themed tricks, and I am perfectly willing to make up for them all in one go.”

Thor grinned. “I’m sure you would, but don’t you need to work out how to do it first?”

Loki raised an eyebrow. “I know enough already to freeze you in your bathwater, put ice beneath your foot on the training grounds, or turn your ale solid.” Being able to do those things when they were children would have been perfectly just repayment for the many times Thor’s uncontrolled static discharge had left Loki’s hair a frizzy mess.

Thor raised his hands in surrender, though he was still grinning.

They walked in silence for a few seconds, before Loki burst out, “I can’t work out what I’m doing wrong! I’ve tried everything I can think of, and I’ve read all the books Asgard has about the Jotnar, but none of them has anything useful to say about frjosleikr. The closest was a series of diagrams of different fetils svell and discussions on which were most effective in different combat styles, but nothing at all about making snow.” He’d attempted it numerous times in the privacy of his chambers, hoping to take advantage of the absence of snowballs flying at him every other second, but to no effect.

“Perhaps you’re overthinking it,” said Thor with a shrug.

“You would say that,” said Loki with an exaggerated roll of his eyes. “Overthinking things and seidr are what I do best. They tend to go together, which is precisely why you never made much headway studying it.”

“This isn’t seidr, though,” said Thor, not doing Loki the courtesy of rising to his insults. “Maybe being so good at that is making this harder, because you automatically approach it like a fully trained seidmadr.”

Loki grimaced. The last two weeks had been humiliating enough; he didn’t want Thor to be right on top of that. But if he was being fair, Loki had to admit that Thor’s elemental abilities were certainly closer to being like frjosleikr than the subtle ways he used his own seidr. He might have a point. “How do you control storms?”

“I don’t always,” said Thor. “Sometimes they just react to me. Strong emotions feed them. Mjolnir acts as a focus.”

Before Loki could reply, Munin came flapping towards them with a low croak.

“A summons?” said Thor. “Now?”

“Something must have happened,” said Loki. They exchanged a tense glance and jogged after the raven, who led them to the council chambers. Odin was there, conversing with the golden image of Heimdall. Odin spared them a glance and gestured them closer.

“Repeat your news, Gatekeeper,” he said.

“I have found the Mad Titan,” said Heimdall. Thor went rigid at Loki’s side, and he could feel the electricity crackling within him. “He lurks near the very edge of my sight. I have been watching him for the last few days. All is as Thor described. He has the Mind Stone, a number of powerful lieutenants, and vast armies at his command. An hour ago, he dispatched two of those lieutenants with one of his largest ships.”

“What is their destination?” said Odin. “Asgard?”

“Nidavellir?” said Loki.

“Midgard?” said Thor.

“No. Yggdrasil’s defenses must still be enough to deter them, for they pursue other goals. The ship can hold an army, but it is empty.”

“Then they are not bound for war?” said Odin.

“For the moment, they only seek to prepare for it,” said Heimdall. “They mean to return with yet another army for their master, and they have set their course for Sakaar.”

Chapter Text

Two weeks and two days from when Thor had disappeared with Dr. Foster, Dr. Selvig, and an undergrad poli-sci student in a pillar of rainbow light about two miles outside of D.C., the second pillar of light appeared on the same patch of grass, burning away what had regrown and sending up alerts all through the Triskelion. The light soon faded and out stepped a lone man with a sword on his belt, dressed in leather armor similar to Thor’s, though he wasn’t nearly as huge as Thor and had auburn hair.

The pair of agents stationed at the Bifrost site stood ramrod straight to greet him, the picture of professionalism (the surveillance footage would show that, up until thirty seconds ago, they had been slouching in their chairs, sipping coffees and listening to a football game on the radio).

The man from Asgard turned to face them and inclined his head. “I am Geir Gunnarson, Huskarl of the third company of the Einherjar,” he announced, “here on behalf of Prince Thor and Prince Loki to escort two agents of the SHIELD of Midgard to Asgard, as requested by Director Fury. Are you the agents in question?”

“No,” said one of them, “but we’ll let HQ know you’re here.”

“Very good.”

X

“This is an opportunity we cannot waste,” said Thor. “Please? Perhaps a few days away from Asgard and a decent fight will help you come back to your frjosleikr lessons with a new approach.”

“There’s no need to beg,” said Loki. “I’m aware that we can hardly waste a chance to deprive Thanos of an army and two of his most powerful minions, and I can hardly stay here to be pelted by snowballs while you muck it all up on your own.”

“Excellent!” said Thor. “Then you will come with me after I meet with the SHIELD agents Fury is sending?”

“You mean today? Then the transporters are ready to use?” said Loki, surprised.

“That’s what Banner said at breakfast,” said Thor.

Loki gave an aggrieved sigh. “The mortals have worked out how to do instantaneous intergalactic travel and I still can’t make so much as a bloody snowflake.”

X

This being potentially the most important reconnaissance mission in the history of the planet and them being the top two field operatives of SHIELD, Natasha and Clint were the obvious choices to liaise with Asgard. Within an hour of Geir’s arrival, they were accompanying him back to the Bifrost site, dressed casually and carrying no visible weapons.

“So how does this work?” said Clint as they stepped into the pattern of charred grass.

“We simply stand here and the Bifrost will do the rest,” said Geir. A smile cracked through his stoic warrior’s facade, making him look much less like a space Viking and much more like the kind of guy you’d find at a neighborhood barbecue. “I think you will enjoy it. It is quite a memorable experience. Are you ready?”

“As we’ll ever be,” said Natasha. Clint wrapped an arm around her shoulders. She allowed it and clung to him in a way that suggested she was more nervous than she was. The idea was to be underestimated, but they were going to another planet. Maybe she really was this nervous.

Geir looked skyward. “Heimdall,” he called.

The clouds overhead began to swirl, and then that column of light came blasting down. Clint’s grip on Natasha tightened as they were pulled off the ground. The earth fell away, and before she knew what was happening, she was rushing past stars, planets, asteroid fields, and nebulae almost faster than she could process what she was seeing.

“I wish Laura and the kids could see this,” Clint breathed.

“You’ll have quite the story for them,” said Natasha.

Seconds later, they stumbled after Geir into a circular chamber, at the center of which stood easily the most majestic man Natasha had ever seen, his hands on the hilt of a sword set into some kind of console. His elaborate golden armor and helmet should have seemed silly, but they didn’t, and it was a little too easy to play the part of swooning girl trying to hide her reaction to a man. She swallowed hard.

“Agents Barton and Romanoff of SHIELD, welcome to Asgard,” he said, fixing them with gleaming eyes as golden as his armor.

“Thanks,” said Clint, shooting Natasha a teasing glance and giving her a slight nudge.

She broke eye contact with the man, presumably Heimdall, and nodded.

“Come with me,” said Geir. “I’ll take you to the palace. That is where your scientists are staying.”

In the end, it was impossible to do anything but play the part of gawking tourist. Asgard was stunning, and there was so much to look at. How long had this place been here, and Earth had only had a vague idea of it in one culture’s mythology?

They rode some kind of sleek flying boat from the Bifrost Observatory into the city. As fascinating as the architecture was, Natasha was most interested in watching the people they passed, who increased in number the farther they went into the city. Asgard seemed to be a cheerful place with a lot of energy. Craftsmen called out their wares and prices, children wound their way between adults, horses, and vendor stalls, giggling and waving practice weapons or playing games, and she heard multiple bursts of full-bellied laughter from groups of shoppers. Once, the sound of shattering ceramics had her whip around to face a building that seemed to be some kind of restaurant, but it was only followed by more laughter. Most of the open squares either had musicians and dancers or what looked like casual sword fighting tournaments, surrounded by rings of delighted onlookers. No one looked sick, underfed, or dirty, but they also didn’t look snobbish or arrogant, and the city itself was in pristine condition. It appeared that whatever Thor and Loki’s family did to run this place, they were doing a good job.

The whole trip from the Observatory to the towering golden palace took about an hour (she estimated that the entire planetoid was at most a thousand kilometers across), and then they were disembarking and Geir was leading them through the biggest doors Natasha had ever seen. They had barely stepped inside when there was a delighted shout.

“I didn’t know you would be the ones Director Fury would send!” It was Thor, and despite the fact that he and Natasha had only met briefly at the Triskelion when he tried to invite her to Stark’s mansion for some reason, he reached for her as well as Clint and pulled them into a hug.

“Damn, is he always like this?” Natasha gasped.

“Yep,” wheezed Clint.

Thor set them back down and beamed at them, his hands still on their shoulders. “It is so good to have you on Asgard. How do you like it so far?”

Natasha smiled back automatically. She was having a hard time with the idea that someone with as much power as Thor could be this genuine. For all she knew, it was a species thing, and what she’d seen on the way over certainly supported that idea. It shouldn’t take too long to be sure. “It’s beautiful, and your people seem pretty happy.”

“Yeah,” said Clint. “We had to wrestle Coulson to get the assignment.”

“The Son of Coul is welcome on Asgard whenever he would like to come,” said Thor. “He was a great help to my brother and me during our visit to Earth, and we would gladly return the favor.” He looked over at Geir, who clapped his right fist over his heart and gave a partial bow. Thor nodded back. “Thank you, Geir. Was that your first time on Midgard?”

“It was, my prince. Will you need me to escort more mortals in future?”

“Very likely, when I can’t do it myself. I will send for you when it is time for Barton and Romanoff to return.”

“Yes, my prince.”

He bowed again and withdrew, and Thor turned back to Natasha and Clint. “You’ve come just in time. Jane, Erik, and Dr. Banner have made great progress on their work. The short-range tests of their transporters have been successful, and they want to move on to long-range tests to see how much farther they have to go on the tracker to locate the Dokkalfar flagship.”

“What about the other one,” said Clint. “Thanos?”

Thor’s eager smile hardened into something more like a snarl. “He lacks the Dokkalfar’s cloaking technology, and we’ve already located him. His base of operations is too well fortified to attack directly, but he’s just sent two of his minions to a remote world with little support. We believe their mission is to deliver him another amy, and we mean to thwart them in it.”

Natasha frowned slightly as she and Clint followed Thor to a staircase and up a few levels, while Thor described Sakaar and what he intended to do there. If Thanos was an old enemy of his father’s from before he was born, then why was he acting like this was so personal for him? She’d read everything Thor and Loki had given Fury on Thanos and the Dokkalfar. Thanos’s habit of invading planets and slaughtering half of their occupants because of some extremely backwards ideas about cosmic balance and resource availability was horrifying. It was definitely worth fighting a war, but to really hate someone, you had to know them better than having a general understanding of their military strategy and ideology. Was Thor just that gung-ho about war, or was there something else going on here?

X

It took Jane Foster about half an hour to explain the devices she, Selvig, Banner, and an Asgardian engineer had made. The transporters, of which there were two, looked like something out of an H.G. Wells book, if Wells had possessed an intense interest in Norse iconography. Perched atop five spindly legs was a sleek golden cylinder about four feet tall. A third of its height was taken up by a clear chamber full of a swirling, gleaming blue substance. Numerous handles protruded from the sides and there was a dial on the top with four concentric rings and a holographic projection display.

The other device was much less impressive in appearance. It looked like a fancy, oversized geiger counter with a long golden antenna sticking out of the top. It, too, had dials and a holographic display.

Natasha was not a stupid woman, but she felt like one beside Dr. Foster, listening to her explanation of how the devices were meant to work. The only other people who didn’t seem to be following much of what she said were Clint and the poli-sci intern. Even Thor and his band of warrior friends looked more impressed than confused, but Loki was the only one actively asking questions and pointing out potential problems.

The gist, Natasha thought, was that if you wanted to teleport somewhere in the universe, you twisted the rings around the top to set your destination, then grabbed onto one of the handles and held on for dear life. The tracker thing was presumably capable of tracing energy signatures across space, which was the main point of having two transporters. The computing power that must be packed into these small devices to be able to calculate such precise locations across such vast distances had to be insane.

“The transporters are fuelled by the Tesseract,” said Dr. Banner. “A little of that will get you pretty far, but it won’t last forever. If we’re talking different galaxies, I don’t think you’ll get more than two uses out of it a pop.”

“How do you know it’ll work?” said Clint.

“We’ve already tested it on Asgard,” said Dr. Selvig. “We sent it from one end of the palace to the other, first by itself, then with a small passenger one of the guards found digging up a flowerbed in the garden.” He indicated a cage on the table across the room, which contained a creature that resembled an oversized raccoon, except that it had longer ears. “We’ve had him under observation since yesterday, and there don’t seem to be any ill effects, so Bruce and Vidar tried it about an hour ago.”

“Then it’s safe for both mortals and Aesir to use,” said Thor. “Marvelous. Why don’t we try a destination a little farther afield?”

“Right now?” said Loki. “You want to go right now?”

“Why not?” said Thor. He looked at the scientists. “Loki and I can take the first one, and then you can use the tracker and send Sif, Fandral, Hogun, and Volstagg after us.”

The three Asgardians and one Vanr in question stood up straighter and touched their weapons.

“When we all come back, you’ll know it all works, and we can see to the Dokkalfar,” Thor went on. He looked at Natasha and Clint, his grin returning. “Want to come?”

“What, use a prototype device to travel to a remote planet run by a crazy guy to help you take down two of this genocidal warlord’s lieutenants?” said Clint.

“Yes, I think having a couple of expert spies along will be a significant advantage,” said Thor. Natasha noticed that while Loki seemed satisfied by this, the other warriors looked a little incredulous.

“Sounds like fun,” said Clint.

Natasha gave both of them a flat look. She hadn’t decided yet whether this was better or worse than working undercover at Stark Industries, but Thor looked so damn happy about the idea of the two of them coming along. “Our assignment specifically said to gather any intel we can on our big upcoming threats,” she said reluctantly. “It shouldn’t be too hard to justify making it home a little later than planned.”

“If you’re sure about this,” said Selvig.

Natasha, Clint, Thor, and Loki each stepped up to one of the handles on the first transporter. Thor twisted the dials on top, bringing up a hologram of a small planet, then poked a spot near what looked like a massive city of skyscrapers. “Ready?” he asked. It was as ridiculous a question now as when Geir had asked it, but Natasha and Clint both nodded.

All together, they twisted the handles ninety degrees counter-clockwise. Webs of golden light shot out of the center console and enveloped them, and then there was a blast of blue energy, a sensation like they were spinning very fast, and the laboratory disappeared from view.

X

Sif watched the princes and the mortal spies vanish using the transporter, and she had to admit that she had underestimated the scientists.

“Can the tracker see where they’ve gone?” said Volstagg.

“Let’s find out,” said Jane Foster, touching the dials on the device in question. “It’s picking up a few different signals. It looks like there’s some back on Earth, which makes sense. Oh, here we go, this is the strongest one besides the Tesseract, and it’s well outside Yggdrasil.” She walked up to the second transporter and entered the coordinates into it. “Okay, you’re all set.”

Sif and the Warriors Three did the same as the others had. Traveling this way felt very different than traveling by Bifrost, and Sif already knew which one she preferred, but the unpleasant spinning sensation was over quickly, and they found themselves standing amid long grass under a clear blue sky. The landscape was strange, very hilly, with vast, grassy arches spanning several of the valleys they could see. Under the nearest of these arches was a cluster of buildings decorated in vibrant colors, and a few children with green skin and pointed ears chased each other around until an adult voice within called out to them, and they walked, slump-shouldered, back inside. It was a pleasant sight, but Thor and Loki were conspicuously absent.

“Er, have we come to the right place?” said Fandral.

Sif frowned and looked back at the transporter’s console. She prodded one of the dials, and it brought up the destination Jane Foster had entered. It wasn’t a planet she was familiar with, so she couldn’t say.

“Sif, Fandral,” said Hogun, his tone sharp and his hand on Hridgandr. Beside him, Volstagg was drawing his axe. They spun around, reaching for their swords. Something was flying towards them at great speed. Something that was giving off nearly blinding golden light.

Chapter Text

Sif and the Warriors Three scarcely had time to arrange themselves in an arc in front of the transporter, weapons raised, before the blaze of white-gold light resolved itself into a blonde woman a couple inches shorter than Sif. Sif would’ve thought her a mortal if not for the incredible aura of power around her. And the fact that she was floating about a foot off the ground. Her suit looked vaguely Kree, but no Kree would ever wear those colors. She touched down a few yards in front of them, expression fierce. “Who are you and why are you on Tarnax?”

“We are Lady Sif and the Warriors Three of Asgard,” said Sif. “We’re here to provide reinforcements to our princes, who should have arrived just moments ago.”

“Princes?” said the woman. “There aren’t any princes here.”

“But this is where the signal led us!” Hogun protested.

“What signal?”

“That is privileged information, good lady,” said Volstagg. “We do not have leave from the throne of Asgard to divulge it.”

“Yeah, well you showed up armed on a planet under my protection, so I kinda need to know why or we’re gonna have a problem.” She raised a fist, which ignited into a whirl of white-gold light.

“Eheh, no, we mean no harm,” said Fandral, lowering his sword and pushing Sif’s down a few inches. “You are quite sure, though, that no princes went past here recently? Both tall, one huge and blond and carrying a large war hammer, the other dark and more wiry, quite skilled with magic? They would be dressed in armor similar to our own.”

“Nope,” she said, folding her arms. “Haven’t seen anyone like that. The only royalty here is Emperor Dro’ge.”

The four of them wilted a bit and exchanged confused and disappointed looks. “Where could they be, then?” said Sif.

“Did the signal take us to the wrong place?” said Hogun.

“It certainly doesn’t appear to be covered in refuse, as Thor described,” said Sif.

Fandral frowned. “Hold on, did you call this planet ‘Tarnax’ a moment ago?”

“Yes. Tarnax IV. And you still haven’t told me what this signal is,” said the woman.

Sif shot her a calculating look. “You are a defender of the weak?”

“I do what I can.” She had a bit of a satisfied smirk on her lips. It spoke of understatement, not deception.

“Perhaps we could…,” said Volstagg. They all exchanged another glance, then nodded and put away their weapons.

“The Midgardian scientists Bruce Banner, Erik Selvig, and Jane Foster used the Tesseract and materials provided by Asgard to create transporters that could take us across the universe,” said Sif. “Prince Thor and Prince Loki used the first one, along with Agents Barton and Romanoff of SHIELD, and we tried to pinpoint the energy signature of their device so we could follow, to test whether such a tracking endeavor would be successful.”

“Yes, and it would appear to be an extraordinary failure,” said Fandral. “We aren’t even in the right galaxy!”

The woman was staring at them, confusion replacing hostility. “The Tesseract? You guys had access to the Tesseract? And you’re working with Earth scientists and SHIELD agents. Does Fury know about this?”

“Fury?” said Hogun.

“Wasn’t that the name of the leader of SHIELD?” said Sif.

“I do believe it was,” said Volstagg. “Yes, the princes spoke of working with him while they were on Midgard.”

For the first time since they encountered her, the hostility vanished from her expression. “Okay, I think I know how you ended up here,” she said, her posture loosening.

“Really?” said Fandral.

“Yeah, if you’re tracking stuff made with the Tesseract.”

“There’s something like that here?” said Sif.

“Me.” She smirked, and more of that white-gold light rippled over her, threaded with flecks of red and blue. “Carol Danvers. Pleased to meet you.”

They all (except Hogun) smiled back at her. “Well met, indeed,” said Volstagg with a gallant bow. “I am Volstagg. My companions are Fandral and Hogun, and the Lady Sif has already introduced herself.”

“The mortal scientists will be pleased to know their tracker works,” said Sif. “But we must return. The princes are expecting us to be right behind them, and Thor said Sakaar could be a very dangerous world.”

“I hope we will have the honor of your company again one day,” said Fandral. He swept a bow before Carol Danvers and took her hand. When he tried to drop a kiss on the back, there was a slight surge of energy and a zapping sound, and he drew back quickly with a laugh, his goatee smoking a little.

“Maybe you will,” she said.

“Fare thee well until then,” said Volstagg, “and may the good people under your protection remain happy and prosperous!”

They caught a glimpse of her grin before the light engulfed her again and she took to the sky.

After watching her go for a few seconds, they gathered back around the transporter and Hogun entered in Asgard’s coordinates. Sif noticed that the fuel chamber was now barely more than half full. Bruce Banner hadn’t been wrong about how long it would last. They twisted the handles, and their surroundings spun away from them.

X

Asgard

About ten minutes after the second transporter vanished, the laboratory was flooded with blue light again and then Sif and the Warriors Three were back.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, what happened?” said Bruce, trying not to let his alarm get the better of him. “It didn’t work?”

“Oh, it worked,” said Fandral.

“We followed the wrong signal,” said Sif. “It took us to a planet called Tarnax, which is not at all the one Thor, Loki, and the SHIELD agents went to.”

“How did that happen?” said Jane with a deep frown. She fiddled with the tracker. “The destination definitely matched that signal.”

“Well, the coordinates you entered did lead to something made with the Tesseract, but that something was a young woman with powerful abilities, not the first transporter,” said Volstagg.

“She seemed pleasant enough,” said Fandral.

“Hey!” said Darcy.

“Not that pleasant,” he added quickly.

Darcy gave a haughty nod.

“Oh,” said Jane. “Okay, well we’ll just try a different signal this time. There’s only one more that’s showing up on the tracker, so it should be the right one.”

“First we’ll have to refuel,” said Erik, already at work preparing to extract more energy from the Tesseract. “It’ll be about an hour before the transporter will be ready again.”

“Excellent,” said Volstagg. “That leaves time for lunch.” And he strode from the lab in search of food.

“I could go for some lunch, too,” said Darcy with a pointed glance at Fandral.

“Allow me to accompany you,” he said, offering his arm. They exited at a slightly faster pace than Volstagg had.

“I think I should come with you guys,” said Bruce. “In case something goes wrong with the transporter.”

“Are you certain?” said Hogun.

“Sakaar isn’t likely to be a relaxing experience,” said Sif.

Bruce shrugged. “In that case, you might need me even more.”

X

Sakaar

Sakaar looked much the same as Thor remembered it. Perhaps the trash heaps were slightly smaller. He turned and searched the horizon for the Devil’s Anus, but its absence was even more obvious on this end than Asgard’s.  

“Okay, of the two planets I’ve seen today, I already know which one is my favorite,” said Barton, watching a few of the ships flying in the distance.

“Yeah,” said Romanoff, coughing and covering her nose. “Is this entire place made of garbage?”

“Very possibly,” said Thor.

“Lovely,” said Loki. He waved his hands over the transporter, which vanished.

“Whoa, what was that?” said Barton.

“We can hardly leave a piece of prototype technology like that lying about,” said Loki. “It’ll be safe in my dimensional pocket until we need it for the return trip.”

“That’s handy,” said Romanoff.

“Coulson said the same,” said Loki, looking pleased.

Barton stared around, frowning. “Uh...weren’t your friends supposed to be coming right after us?”

“Yes,” said Loki. “Even if the tracker doesn’t work, which I must admit I doubt after the success of the transporter, Heimdall could direct them to us. It shouldn’t be much longer.”

Thor turned on the spot, an awful sinking feeling in his stomach. “I’m such a fool.”

“True,” said Loki, “but why, specifically?”

“Time moves differently on Sakaar. I forgot. I don’t think we should wait here for them.”

“What do you mean time moves differently?” said Barton sharply.

Thor looked at him, knowing precisely why he would be so alarmed by this news, but not free to acknowledge it. “Weeks on Sakaar are mere moments on other worlds, and yet you could stay here for thousands of years and never age a day.”

“So...even if they left right after we did, it’s going to be a while before they show up here?”

“Most likely,” said Thor. “I don’t think the ratio of Sakaaran time to outside time is constant.” Which was how Hela had been able to reduce Asgard’s entire population to what would fit on the Statesman in a period that had felt like two days for him and not quite a month for Loki.

“Then we should head for the city now,” said Loki.

“Yes,” said Thor, still kicking himself. It wasn’t especially reassuring to think that however much time they might lose to Sakaar, it couldn’t be more than a couple years. For a mortal who was a husband and father, even a single year was already far too long to be away from home, and Thor might have just cost his friend that because of his thoughtless haste to spend time together. The alternative, that time would move faster here than elsewhere, wasn’t necessarily better, as it meant that they wouldn’t have any backup against Thanos’s lieutenants and whatever the Grandmaster felt like doing. At least...not any backup that wasn’t local. “Just, whatever you do, don’t let anyone stick a little metal disk on you.”

They got about a hundred paces closer to the city when a rickety ship landed directly in their path. “Here we go,” said Thor irritably. He’d expected this kind of interruption.

“Who are these guys?” said Romanoff.

“Scavengers,” said Thor.

“What do they want?” said Barton.

“To eat us.”

“Oh.” He could hear them drawing their weapons and getting into fighting stances, and Loki was doing the same.

Masked aliens piled out of the ship, well over a dozen of them in a variety of species.

Thor raised Mjolnir. “Let us pass, and we will have no quarrel with you,” he said.

“Let us pass and we will have no quarrel with you,” one of them repeated in a singsong voice. The rest of them laughed.

“You’re not going anywhere, food,” said the one in the middle, whose mask was red with odd tufts coming off the side. “That’s a nice hammer. I think I’ll keep it.” He raised what Thor recognized as an electric net launcher. He had no intention of letting him use it.

“You want the hammer?” he said with a smile. “Here!” He threw it at the creature. It shattered the net launcher on impact and drove its wielder back with enough force to bowl over several of his comrades. The rest roared battle cries and attacked.

X

The Grandmaster was having quite an enjoyable morning in his palace. He had his favorite drink next to him, his new keyboard before him, a fresh coat of paint on his nails, he was having an exceptionally good hair day, and even though yesterday’s arena event had been a little lackluster, the party that followed had mostly made up for it.

A couple hundred people milled about in the grand hall, all dancing enthusiastically to his musical stylings (or else), including a few dozen of the prisoners with jobs, as a nice treat for them. He was halfway through a particularly good solo when the crowd parted to reveal his important guests. He grimaced. He hadn’t expected them to be so ugly. One was super skinny and had sickly, wrinkly skin, no nose, and terrible hair, and the other was some kind of massive, scaly lizard thing.

Wrinkles spoke first. “The Great Titan s—”

The Grandmaster held up a finger and played his next chord. Wrinkles’s eyes flashed and Scales let out a growl. The Grandmaster continued to play his solo, amused by their impatience. They clearly needed this reminder that he didn’t answer to their big purple overlord, he was just interested in the guy’s units. He added a few flourishes just to annoy them more. By the time he played the final glissando, a full ten minutes had elapsed since their arrival.

“As I was saying,” said Wrinkles, his lip curling, “the Great Titan sends his respects to the Grandmaster of Sakaar.”

“Ooh, I like respects,” said the Grandmaster. “Can’t spend them, though, and I’m hoping to add another tower to my palace.”

“Ten thousand units per soldier, as per the agreement.”

“I don’t know. Fifteen thousand would be a lot more respectful. And, uh, I’d like your friend here to do a few rounds in my arena.” He looked at the towering lizard thing. “How about it, Scales? You’d give us quite a show.”

“We are not here for your entertain—” Wrinkles began in cold outrage, but Topaz came striding past him without giving him so much as a glance and interrupted.

“Boss, there’s been a disturbance in the trash fields to the east of the city.”

“A disturbance?”

“Yes, this was just a few minutes ago.” She pulled out a security pad and tapped the screen. It cast a silent hologram into the space between them and their guests. At first, it was just an image of garbage heaps, but then there was a brilliant flash of blue light, which faded to reveal four people standing around a weird-looking device. The black-haired one waved his hands and made the device disappear. Topaz slid her fingers along the screen, so the scene sped along at quadruple speed for a bit. She let it play normally again, and a gang of scavengers landed their ship and accosted the newcomers. The Grandmaster watched, intrigued, as the four of them took down their numerous opponents. The muscular blond used a big hammer and blasts of lightning to fight, and the pretty black-haired one kept vanishing and conjuring duplicates. The shorter blond and the redhead defeated at least two scavengers apiece, but they didn’t appear to be anything special.

“If these trespassers are going to be a problem for you,” said Wrinkles, his tone silky smooth, “we will gladly take them off your hands. Would you like us to transfer you the fifteen thousand units per head right now? And how many times would you like Cull Obsidian to battle in your arena?”

There was obvious greed and eagerness in Wrinkles’s eyes, and Scales showed no sign of objecting. The Grandmaster knew when he was being scammed out of a good deal. He and his brother had that in common. “So generous all of a sudden,” he said. “But there’s no need for you to go to so much trouble. You’ll get your army, and I’ll have my guys take care of the trespassers. They look like they might be even better in my arena than Scales, so you’re off the hook for that.”

“Perhaps we can come to a compromise,” said Wrinkles, spreading his bony hands.

“I’m listening,” said the Grandmaster slowly.

“We will assist you in capturing them. You keep the large blond and the two smaller ones, and we’ll take the mage. Cull will fight for you three times, and we’ll add another thousand units per head.”

The Grandmaster took a sip of his drink and stroked his chin. “I think we’re in business.”

Chapter Text

Natasha pulled a pair of handguns from her hidden underarm holsters and took aim. She wouldn’t normally be in favor of fighting over a dozen opponents out in the open with only three allies, but Thor and Loki weren’t fazed and Clint seemed confident enough in them that she went along with it too.

By about the five second mark after the fighting began, Natasha wholeheartedly agreed with Clint. Both Asgardians hit like semi trucks, and that was before you counted what Thor could do with the hammer and lightning and what Loki could do with daggers and deception, or how flawlessly they worked together. This left SHIELD’s top field agents just a few strays to clean up on the flanks, which felt more like a courtesy than a necessity. The fight was made even easier when several of the scavengers screamed something incomprehensible and bolted away between trash heaps as soon as it became clear that the tide was not going to turn in their favor.

It was over in under a minute, with zero injuries to their team. Natasha picked up and examined a blaster gun thing that had narrowly missed blowing a hole through her shoulder before she shot its wielder between the eyes. It was surprisingly light for something so bulky and powerful. Clint, having already retrieved two of his arrows, was now doing the same with a similar weapon. She watched in amusement as the struggle between his longtime preference for bows and a boyish excitement over real-life science fiction weaponry played out across his brows and jaw. In the end, he unclipped a holster from the dead scavenger, strapped it on, and stuck the blaster in it, then shot her a defensive look before she could make a comment. She laughed.

“How thoughtful,” said Thor, dropping his hammer back onto his belt. (Neither he nor Loki seemed the least bit interested in the scavengers’ weapons, and Loki’s daggers were suddenly nowhere in sight.) “They left us their ride.” He led the way to the small, bright orange ship their attackers had flown in on. It looked like it had once been a large dumpster, and the inside did nothing to change that impression. Thor kicked aside a few bits of trash on the way to the controls, and Natasha looked for the least contaminated piece of railing to hold onto.

“What language were those guys speaking?” said Clint.

“I believe I heard at least three or four between them,” said Loki. He tapped a panel beside the door, which made it shut behind them, while Thor found the right buttons and levers to power up the ship and get it into the air. Then Loki frowned at Clint and Natasha and groaned. “Oh, damn.”

“What?” said Natasha.

Loki shot a flat glare at his brother, who looked over his shoulder with a sheepish smile.

“They don’t know Allspeak and they don’t have translators,” said Loki, arms folded. “They fight well for mortals, but exactly how are they supposed to offer their services as expert spies if they can’t understand any of the written or spoken languages they’ll encounter?”

Clint raised his eyebrows at her at the remark about their mortal fighting prowess, but this definitely sounded like a problem. “Translators?” she said. “Are those something we can pick up around here?”

“Why yes, what an excellent idea,” said Loki, eyes still on Thor. “Did you happen to bring any local currency so that we can buy a couple of translator implants?”

Thor grimaced. That was a no, then. Loki briefly pressed thumb and forefinger to his temples. “Did you, in fact, make any preparations for coming here at all?”

“Well there wasn’t exactly time,” Thor protested, waving an arm at the approaching city. “We only have the one shot to stop Thanos getting an army from Sakaar, and we had to take it.”

“And we’re off to a marvelous start,” said Loki.

“Wait, these translators are implants?” said Clint nervously. Natasha didn’t particularly like the sound of that either.

“They’re nothing to worry about,” said Thor, turning from the controls to give them a reassuring smile. “Nearly everyone who travels between planets has them. They’re not as good as Allspeak, but most species aren’t capable of learning it anyway.”

Natasha was not reassured. “We should’ve let Coulson have the assignment,” she muttered.

“Okay, so we get these translators, and then what’s the plan?” said Clint. “Stopping a world-destroying warlord from getting an army is a few orders of magnitude above the kind of missions we’re used to.”

“Oh, of course,” said Thor. “First, we find out where Thanos’s minions landed their ship.”

“Yeah,” said Clint.

“Then we learn whatever details we can about their intentions for the army.”

“Yeah…”

“And then we destroy them and their ship, and possibly the army.” He beamed at them. They did not reciprocate.

“That’s not a plan,” said Natasha. “That’s a list of objectives.”

“We were kinda hoping for more details,” said Clint. “The kind of enemies we’re dealing with, rendezvous points if we lose contact, maps, schematics, exit strategies…?”

“We can work those out as we go,” said Thor. “Where’s your sense of adventure?” Loki wasn’t the only one glaring at him now.

Over the next few minutes, more and more buildings popped up amid the fields of piled garbage they passed, their size and quality gradually improving, even if the smell never changed. Not long after they reached the city proper, Thor looked over his shoulder at Loki. “So, did you have a solution to the currency problem,” he said, “or did you only bring it up to point out my short-sightedness?”

Loki rolled his eyes and waved his hand. Even though it wasn’t the most impressive display she’d seen of his magic, Natasha couldn’t help staring when something small, like a thick, clear credit card, appeared in his palm. He tossed it to Thor.

“What’s that?” said Clint.

“An access pad to the House of Odin’s account in the banking system of the Nova Empire, with whom Asgard is friendly,” said Loki. “We aren’t, strictly speaking, in the Nova Empire at the moment, but in what little time Thor gave me to research our destination, I found that a large number of Sakaar’s portals lead to Nova systems, so there’s a fair chance they’ll accept their money.”

“Good thinking,” said Thor.

“I hope you know that if it wasn’t for me, you’d have starved to death on some uninhabitable rock thousands of lightyears from home before you reached your fifth century,” said Loki.

Thor grinned and threw an arm around his shoulders. “Yes, and if it wasn’t for me, you’d have barricaded yourself in the library and been crushed by a pile of books.”

“Shut up,” said Loki, shrugging him off. “That wasn’t a guarantee that it’ll work. I say we try it out in a mead hall before you look for translators. Perhaps we’ll learn where that ship is while we’re at it.”

Through the viewscreen, Natasha could see a few different places that looked like they might be alien bars, but Thor took them past each of them, looking dissatisfied.

“What, did you have a specific bar in mind?” said Clint. “I wouldn’t hold out for anything nicer around here.”

Thor’s eyes suddenly lit up. “Not something nicer, no,” he said. Natasha tried to pick out what had caught Thor’s interest as he dropped them towards a relatively secluded alley, but the only thing that way besides an even shabbier establishment was some kind of spaceship parked outside it that looked like a cross between a tank and a podracer, covered in circular red, black, and white designs.

The four of them disembarked into a rundown but busy market square. Natasha was really looking forward to going noseblind soon, but it definitely hadn’t happened yet. The bar was at the other end of the square. She kept her eyes on their destination with only a few glances around at the crowd of aliens gathered around vendors and shuffling past them. This seedy market couldn’t have been more different from the cheerful bustle she’d seen on Asgard. Its sheer variety was making her realize just how big the universe was, and how small her life seemed in comparison.

The bar, like the street, contained a variety of alien species. It was illuminated with neon-looking tubes, and every surface was encrusted in dark grime. Natasha noticed Thor scrutinizing the faces of all the patrons. After a few seconds, a delighted smile lit up his features, and he began swatting in the general direction of Loki’s shoulder. “It’s her! She’s here! I can’t believe we found her so soon!”

“What?” said Loki, batting the hand away. “Who?” He, Clint, and Natasha all frowned in the direction Thor was pointing. A dark-skinned woman in black leather armor and a blue cape was leaning against the bar, accepting a large bottle of amber liquid from the alien behind it (who was bright green and had tentacles instead of arms).

“Who is sh—” Loki began, but he cut off mid-word. The woman had turned around to take her drink back to her table, giving them a clear view of her. Natasha glanced up at Loki and saw that he was frozen in place, staring at her with wide eyes. She looked back at the woman. She had a pretty face, a good figure, and a lot of lean muscle, but her entire demeanor screamed “Do Not Approach.” In the few seconds Natasha watched, three people in the crowded bar nearly walked across her path, saw her, and immediately backpedaled and crammed themselves out of the way. When Natasha looked at Loki again, he was still staring at her with a dazed expression like he’d been clubbed over the head, a tinge of pink now flaring across his pale cheeks.

All the SHIELD agent could do was stifle a snort and hope that an unexpected crush wouldn’t be enough to rob the God of Mischief of his tactical prowess.

Thor looked first surprised, then amused when he noticed Loki’s reaction to the woman, but he said nothing about it. Instead, he strode over to the bar, where Natasha could hear him saying something that included “your finest ales” to the tentacled bartender, whose reply consisted of incomprehensible grunts and shrieks. Thor swiped the Nova access pad against something she couldn’t quite see, then returned with two bottles of electric blue drink. He pressed them both into Loki’s hands, which snapped him out of his distracted daze.

“They do take Nova units,” said Thor. “I paid the A’askavarian enough to keep the drinks coming for a couple hours. Hopefully that’ll be enough. Go see if you can convince her to join our team while I get Barton and Romanoff’s translators.”

“What?” said Loki, clearly horrified. “But—”

“Don’t worry, Brother!” said Thor, clapping him on the back. “You’ll do fine. Oh, and if you spot a big Kronan named Korg around here somewhere, recruit him too.” And he led Clint and Natasha from the bar before Loki could object.

X

Mortified and bewildered, Loki struggled to compose himself. The woman sitting across the room was beautiful, yes, but she was far from the most beautiful he’d ever seen, so how could the mere sight of her have such an effect on him that even the mortals had noticed?

Now that he’d had a moment, he was able to place where he’d seen her before. She had been one of the dead bodies in Thor’s nightmare when Loki broke into his mind before the visit to Midgard. But she hadn’t been wearing these plain black leathers then. No, she’d been dressed in the armor of a Valkyrie. Perhaps that was why he’d reacted to her like a simpleton. Like all children raised on Asgard, he had hero-worshipped the Valkyrior, but they had all fallen in battle when he was a baby, so he never expected to actually meet one. He was going to stab Thor right in the ribs when they met back up. How could he do this to him?

Without warning, she looked straight at him. Her gaze traveled down his body and back up, and she raised an eyebrow. It was hard to tell if that look was appreciative or disdainful, but either way, his insides gave a lurch and his face burned. He would likely be better off turning tail and following Thor, but his feet had other ideas and moved him towards her table. When he got within arm’s reach, she tugged one of the bottles from him and popped the cork with her thumb. “I wasn’t sure you’d ever actually come over here,” she said, clinking the bottle against the one he still held and putting it to her lips.

“I wasn’t sure you’d tolerate the company,” said Loki, far more stiffly than he would have liked.

Her bottle was already half-empty. “I can tolerate a lot if it means free drinks,” she said, then pinned him with a surprisingly sharp gaze. “Even being chatted up by a son of Odin.”

Whatever thin veneer of cool charm Loki had been attempting to pull together vanished. He took a swig from his drink in an effort to regain it, but the stuff was so vile that he nearly choked instead. His surroundings weren’t helping either, as everything around him was filthy. “What gave it away?” he said through a slight cough.

She gave him a look like he was being obtuse—not the sort of look he often found himself on the receiving end of, but he supposed he and Thor hadn’t exactly done anything to obscure their identities. They were both wearing armor that incorporated metal discs to represent Bor and Buri, an honor granted to precious few outside the royal family.

She finished her bottle and called for another, which arrived shortly, while Loki sat there in increasingly excruciating silence. Occasional sips from his drink didn’t help, as it continued to taste revolting. That she had recognized him as a son of Odin right away should have made this easier, not harder. It should have been a relief that his position was so obvious to someone who had fought in the Aesir-Jotnar war—particularly someone who hadn’t already spent centuries calling him Prince. But could he really flirt with a Valkyrie when she didn’t know what he was?

Maybe he could have if he wasn’t actually attracted to her.

X

It took about half an hour to locate the upgrades shop the barman had recommended. Barton and Romanoff stuck close behind Thor as they climbed out of the scavengers’ ship again and headed towards it. This part of the city was cleaner (though no one would call it clean) and the people walking through the street wore higher quality clothing. Most of them were headed in the same direction. The shop Thor was after was in between a food vendor selling a number of items that were still wriggling and a shop that appeared to be full of arena souvenirs, with everything from banners to masks to toy versions of various warriors. The upgrade shop had a flashing sign above the open doorway that advertised prosthetic limbs compatible with over two hundred species, cybernetic enhancements, and more.

The inside put Thor in mind of a dragon’s hoard. Gadgets and circuitry were piled wherever they would fit, leaving only narrow paths to walk through. The three of them squeezed their way along one of these until they reached a counter at the back, but there were no signs of life. “Hello?” Thor called. “Is Urizen Ul’var here? We’d like to purchase a pair of translators.”

The door behind the counter opened and an alien stepped out. He was humanoid except for very avian features and a thick mane of beetle-green feathers where a human would have had hair. Thor was pretty sure he was Shi’ar, but he’d never actually seen one up close before. “I am Urizen,” he said. “I wasn’t expecting customers today. I thought everyone would be on their way to the arena. Two translators, eh?” He touched the side of his head and a pair of goggles came down over his eyes, magnifying them and giving him an even more bird-like appearance. He scrutinized Barton and Romanoff, who were staring blankly at him. Romanoff offered a feeble smile. “Hmm. Were their old translators damaged?”

“They’ve never had them,” said Thor. “They’re from Earth. This is their first day off-world.”

“Never had translators?” said Ul’var incredulously.

“Is that going to be a problem?” said Thor.

“Not...exactly,” said Ul’var.

“Perhaps we should find someone else to help us,” said Thor.

Ul’var raised his feathery eyebrows. “It wouldn’t make a difference. They’re adults. Their brains are fully developed. I’m not saying the translators won’t work, but the adjustment period isn’t going to be pleasant for them. I just want to make that clear, because all sales are final.”

“What’s he saying?” said Romanoff.

Thor smiled at her and Barton. “Oh, just that the translators might take some getting used to,” he said. His voice came out a little higher pitched than usual. “But it’s like I said before. There’s nothing to worry about!”

Barton and Romanoff exchanged nervous looks.

X

Topaz was in a bad mood. Being in a bad mood was more or less her default, but today especially. She was a creature of structure and routine. Both were already incredibly scarce commodities on Sakaar, but the boss’s pompous guests had disrupted what little she had managed to keep in place. Now, she had to oversee the promotion of the big stupid frog guy’s arena fights and alert all the scrappers about the trespassers, since the trash field security feed lost them once they entered the city. She’d offloaded the former task as quickly as she could (marketing was not her forte), but the latter was proving annoying enough on its own.

The scrappers tended to demand regular payment if you treated them like proper staff, even when they went weeks without bringing in any new slaves or tech, so the Grandmaster kept them on a looser leash than he did the guards and his enforcers. The only trouble with that was it made wrangling them for a particular task complicated. Only a quarter of them responded to her message within the first hour, but most of those were scattered across territory well outside the city. There were only a couple nearby, and they were useless. She scanned through the list, looking for someone good who was close enough to start tracking the trespassers down today. When she saw the number of the one who was, she ground her teeth.

Scrapper 142.

Topaz hated Scrapper 142. She spent nearly all of her time drowning herself in booze (which, surprise surprise, was exactly what she was doing now, based on her location) and sleeping it off, but the tiny sliver in which she actually bothered to do her job was somehow enough that the Grandmaster was always happy to see her. Nobody got special treatment like that, and she wasn’t even grateful! Well, at least Topaz had an excuse to insult her to her face, since she hadn’t bothered to accept her assignment.

Topaz scowled as she entered the bar. Being the Grandmaster’s second-in-command usually meant she didn’t have to come to places this dirty. She spotted Scrapper 142 across the room. Then her mouth fell open in disbelief. The man sitting at the table with her was none other than the mage they were looking for! The big blond warrior and the two less impressive fighters were nowhere in sight, but that was definitely him, and instead of bringing him in, Scrapper 142 was fraternizing with him.

Behavior like this was completely unacceptable. But as she watched them sitting there, her outrage drained away. What she had on her hands was an opportunity, and she wasn’t going to waste it. She walked up to the bar with a broad smirk on her face. “You!” she barked at the bartender. When he turned and saw who she was, his eyes widened in alarm, and then he immediately abandoned the customer he was helping and hurried over to her. Yeah, that’s right, she thought, sneering.

“What can I do for you?” he asked.

“You can add something special to the drinks you’re sending to Scrapper 142’s table.” She passed him a container of purple capsules. “Maximum dose.”

“Of course,” he said. “Right away.”

“Have you seen the three people that guy was with? They all look like they might be Xandarian. Two blonds and a redhead. Really weird clothes.”

“One of the blonds asked me where to get translators for the other two, and I told him to try Urizen Ul’var’s upgrade shop.”

It looked like Topaz wouldn’t need the scrappers after all. Her mood was rapidly improving. She nodded curtly at him and left the bar. Once she was outside, she pulled up the contact for the boss’s guests on her wrist display. After a few seconds, a small hologram of the scodey one with no nose popped up. “Hey, Eggsy Mop,” she said.

He scowled at her. “My name is Ebony Maw, you insolent—”

“Yeah, whatever,” said Topaz. “I’ve got your special cargo.” His haughty indignation changed instantly to surprise and eagerness—not that it was easy to tell with a face like his. “Should be ready to pick up in a few minutes. Take the woman too, or she might make trouble later.” She sent him the bar’s coordinates and closed the message before he could start spewing more hot air about how great his leader was.

Chapter Text

Clint didn’t like the look of the instrument in the alien shop owner’s hands at all. It was a lot like a gun, but more high tech—same as everything was around here—and with a very pointy end. The lunch he’d eaten two planets ago churned in his stomach as he watched Ul’var load the instrument with a small object that resembled an Earth computer chip, except that Earth computer chips weren’t normally covered in tiny, wiggling tentacles.

He’d volunteered to go first. He wasn’t going to take that back, but he wasn’t thrilled about it either. He tried to think positive by imagining all the kung fu movies he wouldn’t need subtitles for anymore, and that Nat would never be able to mess with him by deliberately mistranslating Russian for him again. It didn’t really help.

Ul’var patted a spot on the back of his own neck near the base of his skull, raised the instrument, and gestured for Clint to turn around. Clint looked at Thor, who nodded, that obviously fake smile still on his face. Thor might just be the worst liar Clint had ever met, but he complied anyway. Even if Thor was lying about how pleasant this experience was going to be, Clint’s gut was still telling him that Thor was a good guy. Maybe it was stupid to trust his gut about a Viking prince from space just because it had been right about a redheaded Russian assassin, but if it was wrong this time, they were all screwed anyway, so it didn’t really matter.

He turned to face the front of the shop, meeting Nat’s eyes. She had her arms folded and her anxiety on his behalf was showing through. He gave her a cocky half-smile, and she scowled. He forced himself not to tense up when he felt the alien’s talon-like fingertips prodding beneath his hairline, followed by the chilly nose of the metal instrument.

“Ready?” said Thor.

“I guess,” said Clint.

There was a click, a hiss, and a sharp sting—not much worse than a tetanus booster. He realized that he had shut his eyes and clenched his fists at the last second, and he relaxed, blinking at Thor and at Nat. “Hey, that wasn’t so bad.” Nat let out a surprised laugh. He lifted a hand to touch the spot where the translator had been injected, but before his fingers could reach it, hot tendrils of pain spread outward from that spot and then abruptly exploded through his skull, whiting out his vision and making his ears ring so loudly that he couldn’t hear anything else. He staggered and fell to his knees, a scream tearing its way from his throat.

Thor and Nat were there on either side of him in an instant. He was barely aware of them. He’d had migraines before, but this was worse. He clutched at his head and groaned. It was like there was something crawling around inside it. The pain combined with Sakaar’s overpowering smell of garbage was too much. His insides heaved. He only noticed that Ul’var had come around the counter and pressed an empty container close to his face when everything he’d eaten that day came back up and landed in it instead of all over the floor.

The pain continued to crash over him in waves, but after the first few, he realized that each one was slightly less intense than the last. The white-out had receded and the ringing had lessened, but he couldn’t have said how long it took. He remained huddled on the floor, hands on his head, dimly conscious of Thor speaking loudly to the shop owner, whose replies seemed irritated. Natasha was still next to him, her hands on his arm, shaking him. Her words eventually penetrated the haze of pain.

“Clint! Clint! Are you okay?” He couldn’t remember her ever sounding this unnerved.

“Getting there, I think,” he panted. He screwed up his eyes again. “Ugh, this thing packs a wallop.”

“Работает?” she said. Clint frowned at her, and she looked even more worried. “You couldn’t understand that? It doesn’t work?”

Clint squinted at Thor and the shopkeeper, whose argument hadn’t ended. On the contrary, Thor looked like he was about to toss the guy through one of the piles of gadgets. When Clint tried to focus on the indignant trilling noises coming out of Ul’var’s beak-like mouth, the pain spiked sharply. He recoiled, clapping his hands to his head again. “Not yet, if it’s gonna.”

“Hey!” Nat said loudly. Thor and the shopkeeper fell silent and looked around. “How long until we know if this thing even works?”

Clint’s head was still splitting, but the next stream of trilling sounds Ul’var made in reply suddenly changed to perfectly clear English. “—tried to explain to your large, rude friend, it takes a little while for the programming to sync up with the language centers of the brain,” he said.

It was bizarre. The words Clint heard didn’t match up with the alien’s mouth movements at all, but the voice was the same. Like his brain had switched audio tracks and he was watching a high-quality dub of real life. He let out an incredulous laugh.

“What?” said Nat.

“I understood him!” He couldn’t keep being too thrilled about it, though, because fresh waves of agony were still coming in time with his pulse. He thought he could feel those tentacle things on the implant squirming at the base of his skull and it nearly sent him heaving again.

“How about this?” said Nat. Her mouth movements didn’t match up either, but what he heard was English. Maybe it was because she was speaking Russian instead of whatever Ul’var spoke, but it sent up another flare of pain.

“Yeah, got that too,” said Clint.

“What about this?” said Thor. “Can you understand what I’m saying too?” He was doing that thing people sometimes did when trying to communicate with a foreign speaker, where they spoke extra loud and slow, with wide eyes and exaggerated hand gestures, somehow thinking it would help. The dubbing effect made it extra weird.

“Okay, yeah, it works!” said Clint. “Now stop testing languages on me.”

Thor laughed in delight and pounded the shopkeeper on the shoulder, which knocked him into that pile of gadgets anyway.

“How much longer am I gonna have this migraine?”

“I couldn’t say,” said Ul’var, picking himself up again with a glare at Thor and an anxious glance at his merchandise. “I can give you a discount on something you can take for it, though. It might not do anything about the pain, but it’ll definitely take your mind off it for a few hours.”

“No, no,” said Thor quickly. “We don’t need any mind-altering substances. Just being on this planet is bad enough already.”

“You still wanna do this, Nat?” said Clint.

“Yeah, it’ll be fine,” she said, a hint of shrillness in her voice. “Maybe Thor can just hit me on the head with his hammer first, and then I can skip this part.”

Clint gave a groaning laugh. “Why didn’t I think of that?”

X

“You need to drink more,” said the Valkyrie. “Are you always this stiff?”

Loki took another swig of the vile drink. “Would you believe that they call me Silvertongue back home?”

“At this point, no.” She was about halfway through the second bottle now.

After another moment in which she continued drinking while Loki tried not to look directly at her, he forced himself to speak again. “May I have the honor of your name?” He suppressed a grimace. What was he doing, addressing her like a courtier when she was a seasoned, elite warrior? She didn’t appear to notice, however.

“Scrapper 142,” she said flatly.

“That’s a name?” he asked. Wonderful. First he addresses her as the wrong station, now he insults her. Silvertongue, indeed.

“Does the job well enough,” she said. She showed no hint of curiosity to learn his own name, but then, she probably already knew that too. Unless she was a deserter from the Aesir-Jotnar war, she’d likely been part of the honor guard at the palace when Prince Loki was first presented to Asgard as an infant.

The very thought made him want to shrivel up and sink through the floor. He must look like such a child to her. This realization did nothing to help with his hormones.

“So,” she said, clearly losing patience with his abysmal display of conversational skills. “I know what I’m doing in the armpit of the universe, but what brings a couple of princes out here?”

With a quick glance around, Loki opted to switch to the nameless tongue. A couple of the patrons at the table nearest theirs winced and touched the backs of their skulls, where their translators would be located. “We heard the Mad Titan was buying an army from the ruler of Sakaar. We’d prefer it if that transaction failed.”

Her eyes widened before she smoothed her expression back to prickly indifference. “I thought Asgard couldn’t be bothered to deal with Thanos again as long as he keeps well clear of the nine realms.” She used the nameless tongue as well, which surprised him a little. She would’ve needed to be highly ranked in the Valkyrior to earn that kind of clearance. Very highly ranked.

“Asgard’s past leniency was obviously unwise, as powerful as he has grown. We mean to correct that oversight.”

“Thanos has torn through dozens of worlds with the armies he already has, and the ones that put up a fight barely slowed him down. You have two pampered royals and a couple of—what, Xandarians?—to succeed where they failed? Bit overconfident, aren’t you?”

“They’re Midgardians, actually,” said Loki, choosing not to dignify the “pampered royals” remark with a response.

She snorted into her second bottle. “Well, in that case, I’m sure Thanos will be quaking in his indestructible boots.”

“It’s not him we’re after just yet. For now, we’re only dealing with the lieutenants he sent here.”

“Good luck with that.” Bottle number three wasn’t coming quickly enough, so she grabbed his instead.

“Our luck would be better if we had the help of a Valkyrie.”

She set his now-empty bottle down rather hard, her gaze becoming colder than a Jotunheim winter. “It looks like your luck is gonna stay shit, then.”

Indignation did far more to loosen his tongue than the alcohol had so far. “Thirty seconds ago, you scorned Asgard for not bothering to do anything about Thanos, and now you would spurn an opportunity to be part of the effort to oppose him?”

Two new bottles were set in front of them. They both ripped the tops off and took swigs without breaking eye contact.

“I haven’t fought for Asgard in over a thousand years, and I’m not looking for a reason to start back up again,” she said. “We’re not in Yggdrasil, and on Sakaar, I’m a scrapper, not a Valkyrie.”

“I wasn’t aware that oaths of loyalty to the throne of Asgard were conditional upon the swearer’s proximity to it.”  

“Looks like there are a lot of things you’re not aware of, your highness.”

“So you’re a deserter,” said Loki, his lip curling. “When did your honor fail you? Was it before or after the rest of the Valkyrior fell on Niflheim?”

She was on her feet in an instant, and he only just managed to catch the blade of her dagger against one of his before she could press it to his throat. “If having honor means remaining loyal to the throne of Asgard even after everyone I ever cared about was slaughtered in a battle the Allfather knew we had no chance of winning, then I have no use for it,” she snarled. “Odin’s never given a shit about me being alive out here before now, so I don’t need his boys suddenly showing up and demanding—” She broke off and staggered a little on her feet. As she did so, Loki felt a wave of numbness sweeping over him. Both their gazes snapped to the bottles sitting on the table.

“Oh, damn,” she said.

The hairs on the back of Loki’s neck stood up. Even with his senses dulled, he could feel the surge of nearby magic, and then the entire outer wall of the dingy building was abruptly torn free with an ear-splitting shriek of metal. Many of the other patrons screamed and began running in every direction, while a flat-faced gray alien Loki recognized from Thor’s memories stepped into the gaping hole.

X

To Thor and Barton’s relief, Romanoff didn’t have nearly as much difficulty adjusting to the translator implant. Ul’var suggested that it had something to do with her being younger and bilingual, so the language center of her brain was much more flexible. As Thor was paying for the two implants, they heard a distant swell of noise.

“Hmm. Battle must be over,” said Ul’var. “You three’ll want to hurry off to wherever you’re headed if you don’t want to get caught in the rush.”

“Of course,” said Thor. They turned and carefully wended their way back towards the exit.

“What battle?” said Romanoff, wincing and rubbing her ear.

“The Grandmaster keeps the people here entertained by forcing slaves to fight to the death in his arena,” said Thor.

“What, like gladiators?” said Barton.

“Yeah,” said Thor.

“Whoa, this is so weird,” said Romanoff, looking around at the shop signs as they reached the street.

Barton followed her gaze and blinked rapidly.

“What?” said Thor.

“It all still looks like alien symbols, but I know what it says in English,” said Barton. He turned to Romanoff. “Is it Russian for you?”

“No...wait,” she said, frowning. “I think it depends which language I’m thinking in. It’s English right now, and…” She blinked and shook her head. “Now it’s Russian.”

Thor grinned, delighted that they’d found such an excellent solution for this problem. “Very good,” he said. “We should head back to the mead hall.” The sound of people departing the arena was getting louder, and the overhead traffic of flying crafts was growing thicker, most of it moving outward from the heart of the city.

Thor expected it to be difficult to get any information about the arrangement between the Grandmaster and Thanos’s minions, but clearly he had underestimated the former’s vanity. They were barely halfway across the street when a massive hologram of the Grandmaster popped up, towering over all but the tallest buildings, and his voice began to issue from what sounded like every direction.

“People of Sakaar, let’s give it up for our guests, Ebony Maw and Cull Obsidian. I like to call them Wrinkles and Scales.” He started clapping, and the hologram panned over to one familiar and very irritated-looking alien Thor recognized from the battle on the Statesman. The Grandmaster’s voice protested, just as loud as before. “No, why are you showing him? Look at his face! Do you want to start a riot?” It blurred back to focus on the Grandmaster himself, who adjusted his collar and gave a big smile. “Well, that was Scales, anyway. Not sure where Wrinkles went, but they’ll be sponsoring the new tower for my palace. I know you all couldn’t be happier about this project, and I want to help you feel like a part of it, even if you aren’t part of the army I’m selling to them. I’ve drawn up a few different options for tower designs, and I’m taking a poll! Whichever one you like best has a good chance of being the version you’ll soon be building for me. So make sure to stop by a directory console to cast your vote, and look out for Scales as the main event in this week’s tournament! You’ve already gotten a taste of what he can do this evening, so come back to the arena for the next battle ready for more.”

The hologram winked out, leaving the city much dimmer than it had been and a stunned silence in its wake.

“Is that clown for real?” said Barton. Hearing alien tongues didn’t seem to be paining him as much as at first. A good sign.

“Unfortunately,” said Thor.

“And the big guy it showed is one of the guys we’re looking for,” said Romanoff.

“He is,” he confirmed.

“Looks like the arena might be a good place to get some of the intel we need to take them down,” said Barton.

“You may be right.”

It wasn’t until they had gotten within yards of their stolen ship that Thor realized what was odd about the sounds of the approaching crowd. Namely, that they had started to sound less like the unorganized movements of thousands of people going to separate destinations and a lot more like marching. The street was too winding and full of archways and protruding shopfronts to see very far in any direction. However, when he looked up, he saw a familiar ship—one he had briefly believed to be responsible for shooting the Valkyrie out of the sky during the escape to Asgard. It was flying straight towards them, and its guns were swiveling around.

“Get down!” he shouted, tackling Barton and Romanoff before they could reach the ship, which exploded when the enemy ship fired on it seconds later.

Chapter Text

Loki and the Valkyrie stood their ground as the alien approached, his narrowed eyes fixed on them, a satisfied sneer on his lips. Loki gritted his teeth and tried to shrug off the disorienting, slowing effects of the drug. He suspected that the substance had been intended for less hardy beings than Aesir and Jotnar, but even so, facing an enemy sorcerer with dulled wits was not unlike fighting an expert swordsman with only a blunted practice sword. 

“Who the Hel are you?” said the Valkyrie. Being half-drunk and drugged only seemed to have made her angrier. Loki was grateful that she now had a target for it other than him. The alien’s eyes focused on her, and Loki didn’t waste the divide in his attention. It took a lot more effort than usual, but he left a projection in his place and cloaked himself, then began picking his way around the rubble and overturned tables and chairs.

“I am Ebony Maw, the right hand of the Great Titan Thanos,” the alien replied. He had a reedy voice and enunciated his words precisely, and he carried himself with the smug confidence you’d expect to see from a man who had just torn the outer wall off a building with the flick of a finger. All of this would have been enough to make Loki loathe him even if he hadn’t already known who he was and who he worked for. “I will give you a choice, mage.” He fixed his gaze on Loki’s projection. “You have an opportunity seldom granted.”

“Just what opportunity would that be?” the projection asked.

“You have access to something the Great Titan desires. You will help him acquire it.”

“Will I? I thought you said you were giving me a choice. You see, I don’t feel particularly obliged to do favors for someone who so rudely interrupted my drink with the lady. It was going so well.” Loki saw the Valkyrie shoot the projection an annoyed glare, and he smirked.

“Your petty affections are meaningless in the face of my master’s glorious design for this universe,” said Maw. Beneath his cloaking spell, Loki raised his daggers. He was nearly behind Maw now, and closing in. “You can either become a part of it willingly or be crushed beneath it. That is your choice. One way or the other, you will serve his purpose.”

“I decline,” said Loki, dispersing the projection and lunging forward to cut right through Maw’s spine. 

The heavy cables dangling from what was left of the wall flew up and wrapped themselves around Loki’s wrist, halting his motion a mere inch before the tip of his dagger reached the back of Maw’s tunic. Maw rounded on him. “You insult me with your paltry tricks,” he said, leaving one hand pointed towards the Valkyrie. He lifted his fingers, and the ground at her feet began ripping itself apart. 

Loki forced the cables off him with a surge of seidr and fell back. He split two simulacra off him and went left while they went center and right, but before he could feint an attack or make another real one, Maw’s head jerked to the side and a line of blood appeared on his cheek, and a dagger went flying past. He turned to snarl at the Valkyrie, who had deftly sidestepped the crumbling flooring beneath her. Loki shot her a roguish grin, but then he had to duck when the second dagger she threw came straight at him. 

“Really?!” he said, so deeply affronted that he sacrificed some of his attention for dodging and stopping Maw’s next salvo to gape at her.

“What?” she retorted, vaulting over a wall of pavement that hurtled her way and unsheathing a sword he recognized as a Dragonfang. “Just because I’m fighting this pompous, craggy asshole now doesn’t mean I forgot where we left off.”

X

This wasn’t good. Thor had no doubt that he could have handled the attacking ship and the approaching soldiers on his own, but Romanoff and Barton were still adjusting to the translator implants and in poor condition for battle. He kicked a large chunk of their destroyed ship into the air and clubbed it towards Topaz’s craft with Mjolnir. It collided with it slightly off-center, sending her careening behind a building, but that would give them only a moment’s reprieve. “Are you well enough to defend yourselves from the ground forces?” he called over the sounds of marching soldiers.

“Depends how much better they are than those scavenger guys,” said Barton, taking cover and aiming his blaster towards where the soldiers were likely to appear first. 

Romanoff took up a position beside him, aiming her own blaster the other way, which left Thor to defend the area in front and above. “Why are these guys attacking us?” she said.

“Yeah, you don’t have a bounty on your head on this planet that you forgot to mention, do you?” said Barton.

“Or maybe the scavengers were some important guy’s buddies?” suggested Romanoff.

“Not that I know of,” said Thor. “But the ship belongs to the Grandmaster’s second-in-command.”

“Then this isn’t an accident,” said Barton.

He was right. Somehow, the Grandmaster had gotten wind of them, and he’d sent his underlings after them. For Thor, this realization was followed swiftly by a second, which sparked off equal measures of anger and fear inside him: if the Grandmaster was coming after the three of them, then he must also be targeting Loki, and Ebony Maw’s absence from that projection moments ago was suddenly much more worrying. “We have to get back to the mead hall.”

The soldiers came into view at both ends of the street and began firing their weapons. 

X

Ebony Maw was using telekinesis on a level that Loki had never seen. He continued to deflect his and the Valkyrie’s attacks with apparent ease using the materials around him. He made solid masonry and metal support beams come apart with the effort it took most people to flick lint off their clothing, reshaped pieces of it into pointed missiles, and sent it whistling through the air straight for them. It hardly mattered how many simulacra Loki created, because Maw had more than enough projectiles to spare for each. 

Loki’s current strategy was to keep his real body cloaked continuously while making a projection into a likely-seeming target—speaking through it, using seidr shields to defend it from attacks, and throwing conjured daggers from it, while simulacra continued to peel off it. So far, it seemed to be working. Maw didn’t target the spot where Loki was really standing, even as he continued to lob rubble at the Valkyrie and all the copies. However, he also hadn’t taken another hit since the Valkyrie cut his cheek. At this rate, the two of them would need to be extraordinarily lucky to defeat him, but Loki’s body felt heavier with every passing moment, and by the looks of the Valkyrie’s dodges and sword slashes, she was in the same boat. It wouldn’t be long before the drug rendered them completely incapable of fighting.

The smart thing to do now would be to leave his distraction in place and flee to somewhere he could focus his seidr on burning the drug out of his system. But that would mean leaving the Valkyrie to Maw. Maybe he should. Pretty or not, she’d made her opinion of him fairly clear when she threw that knife at him. He owed her nothing. He took a few steps towards the street. He could slip down there and make his way towards Thor and the mortals. Perhaps they could come back for her together. He could even insist on it so that Thor wouldn’t be angry with him for abandoning her, and if he collected one of her daggers on the way out, he might be able to use it for a tracking spell to help locate her—and, by extension, Maw’s ship, which they needed to find anyway. 

He looked back. The Valkyrie’s skin shone with sweat from the effort of fighting the drug as well as Maw, and she was jumping from one hurtling boulder to the next, trying to reach him. She made a mighty leap, Dragonfang driving towards Maw’s throat, but she failed to notice the coil of metal cord rising up towards one of her feet. It caught her and yanked her out of the air so violently that the sword flew out of her hand, and she was left dangling in front of Maw by the ankle, hair and cape hanging down.

Loki could feel his control of his seidr slipping. His projection was too weak to front any attacks to help her now, and the simulacra had all been dispelled by Maw. His distraction was nearly spent, and he was still far too close to the scene. If he didn’t run now, he would lose his chance.

“You fight well,” Maw told the Valkyrie, who was still struggling to get free. “A warrior such as you would be a fine addition to my master’s ranks. He does prefer to start them off when they are young and malleable, but he has made exceptions when it suited him.”

“If you take me to that purple shithead, I’ll stick my sword through his eye,” she said, and spat in his face.

“In that case,” said Maw coolly, wiping the spit off with a disdainful grimace, “you should rejoice to know that you will become a child of Thanos in death.” He curled his fingers and the Dragonfang floated up off the ground where it had fallen. When he angled his hand, it sped towards her chest like an arrow. 

“No!” Loki snarled, gathering up every last bit of seidr he could muster even as the edges of his vision began to fog, then forcing it out towards the airborne sword. The deadly weapon spun off-course and embedded itself six inches deep into the wall of the ruined establishment behind her. 

The Valkyrie stared at him with wide eyes. He met them briefly before focusing on Maw, who turned around at a leisurely pace, a smile stretching his fleshy, gray lips. “There you are, mage.” He raised his bony hands again. Loki fought to remain upright and lifted his daggers in front of him once more. 

X

The Sakaaran soldiers were indeed superior fighters to the scavengers, though not by much. Topaz in her ship was by far their greatest concern, wreaking havoc on the vendor stalls they’d been using for cover with every pass. She’d learned not to linger, though, after what Thor had done to the vessel the first time. Thor very much wanted to launch himself into the sky to bring her down for good, but he couldn’t leave Barton and Romanoff alone for that long. They were succeeding in keeping the soldiers from advancing on either side for now with just their two blasters, and Thor had taken down several that came in from the front. It wouldn’t last. More were coming by the minute. 

“How about some lightning?” said Barton over the sounds of blaster fire.

“I’m just waiting for them to line up for me,” said Thor, watching Topaz’s ship coming back around. Dark clouds were gathering overhead, responding to the energy building within him and in Mjolnir. The score or so of soldiers coming from the front were right beneath her flight path. He stepped out to make himself a better target. “Come on, you bastards,” he growled. Topaz swooped down, the soldiers charged, and Thor smirked. With a roar, he pointed Mjolnir skyward, and a blinding flash of lightning blasted from him to the clouds, then arced back down, lighting up the ship on the way and flinging the cluster of soldiers off their feet.

This time, the ship burst into flames and crashed into the neighboring building. Even if Topaz survived that, her ship was certainly no longer a problem. He hurled Mjolnir at one of the two soldiers still standing in front of him, who was taking aim. It crushed the chest plate of the creature’s armor, then curved around and hit his fellow on the way back to Thor’s hand. There didn’t appear to be any more on this group’s tail. “Come on!” Thor shouted at Barton and Romanoff. They laid down a suppressive volley to keep the two groups on the sides from giving immediate chase (though after the lightning, they didn’t seem particularly keen to try it) and followed Thor into the new path he’d opened up. 

Thor maintained the storm overhead and gave it enough of a push that the sky opened. Rain came pouring down so hard that they were soaked in seconds. They couldn’t see more than a few yards in any direction, but the soldiers would have a hard time following them now. 

They ran for a few streets, then ducked under an awning.

“Are they chasing us?” Romanoff panted.

“I don’t see them,” said Barton.

“Heimdall!” Thor called, desperate for news of his brother.

There was no answering voice.

“Heimdall, can you hear me?” he tried again, louder this time. Still no response. “Why doesn’t he answer?”

“If time moves differently here than on Asgard, maybe we’re going too slow or fast right now for him to be able to communicate,” said Romanoff over the pounding rain. 

“Yeah, and if your friends still aren’t here, that probably means we’re the ones going faster,” said Barton.

Thor’s fear ratcheted up several notches. They were likely right. He must’ve caught Heimdall during a stable window in which the two timestreams lined up when he communicated with him from Sakaar before. He shot one frustrated glance skyward before turning to face the street they needed to take next. “We should keep moving.”

Nothing accosted them as they made their way through the city back the way they’d come. Before long, they were able to merge into the crowd of people returning from the arena, none of whom took any particular notice of them as they hurried to get out of the rain. They gradually grew more confident that they had succeeded in losing their pursuers. It took a frustratingly long time traveling on foot, but flying would surely get them spotted, and another fight could delay them even more. 

Nearly an hour later, they were finally approaching the right part of the city, and Thor tried not to think too hard about the way the civilian traffic was considerably lighter than before and the people coming from the direction they were headed looked nervous and frightened. They rounded a corner onto the shabby market square, and Thor’s stomach plummeted. The entire area was almost completely deserted and the street and building were both piled with rubble. The Valkyrie’s ship looked like it had been pulled apart piece by piece, and the place where the outer wall of the mead hall had stood was now a gaping, ragged hole. 

There was no sign of Loki.

Chapter Text

“Loki!” Thor roared, sprinting towards the last place he’d seen his brother. The interior of the mead hall was completely in ruins, sparks and water dripping down from where the wall had been torn away, with no signs of life inside. But maybe Loki was still here somewhere beneath a cloaking spell. Or maybe he’d ended up underneath the piles of rubble. Thor began frantically throwing aside chunks of metal and concrete twice his size, still shouting his brother’s name. He found nothing underneath the first pile. Or the second. Or the third.

“Hey, Thor!” Thor spun around to face Barton, his hope rising. However, it plummeted again when he saw that Barton was only pointing at one of the walls that remained standing. There was a blue-bladed sword sticking out of it. “Wasn’t that the sword that warrior lady was carrying?” 

It was, without question, the Valkyrie’s Dragonfang. She wouldn’t have left that behind if she’d had a choice. 

“And what about this?” said Romanoff. She picked up a dwarf-forged dagger with a gold and black hilt from the ground. 

“Loki’s,” said Thor. Part of his mind was still scrabbling for a positive explanation to all this, and the only one it could come up with was that Loki had been wildly successful in his wooing of the Valkyrie, and things had gotten very out of hand. But knowing Loki as well as he did and having spent a few weeks in the Valkyrie’s company, that possibility seemed extremely remote. More likely, they would’ve ended up at each other’s throats, and even then, this destruction would not have been their doing.

A groaning sound came from behind the bar. All three of them rushed over, and Barton and Romanoff helped Thor clear away smaller pieces of debris that had half-buried the A’askavarian barman. “Are you alright?” said Thor. Thick yellow liquid oozed from several scrapes in his skin, his clothing was torn, and the tentacles that took the place of a right arm were a vibrantly bruised riot of different shades of green.

“M-my bar!” he whimpered, staring around at the destruction. Not so badly wounded that he couldn’t care about that, then. 

“What happened here?” said Barton.

“Some kind of wizard attacked the place,” he said. “Everyone ran, but I got trapped back here when he started throwing pieces of the building around.”

“What did the wizard look like?” said Romanoff.

“I don’t—tall, gray skin, lots of wrinkles, no nose, wearing some kind of tunic?”

“Ebony Maw,” said Thor, his lip curling. “What of the man who came in here with us? And the woman I opened the drink tab for?”

“I didn’t see,” he said. He squirmed, avoiding Thor’s gaze.

“Want to try that again?” said Romanoff.

“What do you want from me?” he whined. “I’ve lost everything!”

Thor seized him by the throat, lifted him up from the ground, and slammed him against the back wall. “What. Happened. To. My. Brother?” he growled. Thunder rumbled overhead.

The A’askavarian whimpered and squirmed fruitlessly against Thor’s grip. “Ow! I didn’t have a choice, okay? When Topaz gives you an order, you follow it if you want to keep your freedom. Let me go!”

“What did she want?” said Barton.

“She asked if I knew where you three had gone, and then she gave me something to put in your brother and Scrapper 142’s drinks and left.”

Thor’s grip tightened. The alien’s face was steadily turning a deeper green. “Why?” he barked. “How did she even know about us?” 

“How the hell should I know?” he rasped. 

“What happened to Loki and the woman?” said Romanoff.

“They fought the wrinkly wizard guy,” he said. Thor felt his slimy throat contract in a gulp beneath his hand. “They lost, and he took them away. But I’m pretty sure they’re still alive.” Blue-white threads of electricity burst out of Thor’s skin. He dropped the A’askavarian before his hold could either crush or electrocute him, and he staggered back. He tried to draw slow, deep breaths, but his control was gone and the energy of his wild seidr would not be restrained. The storm outside broke loose. The sky itself seemed to crack apart with lightning every other second, rain became hail, and the wind picked up until it howled through the city, sweeping away small to medium pieces of trash and rubble.

Ebony Maw had Loki. He had Loki and he was going to take him to Thanos, and then every horror Thor had sworn to spare his little brother from this time would happen anyway. 

X

The Grandmaster was less pleased with how today was shaping up than he’d been with the way it had begun. Scales was one of the best fighters he’d had in his arena, sure, but he had zero sense of showmanship. He was so quick about bashing in the heads of his opponents that most of the audience had barely had time to see what had happened before it was over. The death of the previous reigning champion, which should have sent the stadium up in screams of outrage and delight, was instead met with nothing but hesitant, confused applause that died away quickly. Scales hadn’t even gotten any blood on him! Meanwhile, Topaz had gotten her ship destroyed and a platoon of guards killed trying to capture the big blond guy, and she had nothing to show for it except a broken leg and a burned arm. To cap things off, he couldn’t remember having such horrible weather on Sakaar in the entire time he’d been here.

If Wrinkles wasn’t striding towards his throne right now, looking like his day had been much better, the Grandmaster would’ve been trying to salvage the evening with an impromptu party in his ship. He shooed away a couple of attendants and frowned at him, savoring another sip of his drink, not adjusting his relaxed position in his throne.

“Grandmaster,” said Wrinkles, inclining his head, “thanks to the information of your subordinate, I have succeeded in capturing my quarry. I attempted to inform the Great Titan, but Sakaar’s temporal flux is making communications off-world impossible, so I would like to return to him at once.”

“Uh-huh,” said the Grandmaster. “That wasn’t our deal.”

“The units for the soldiers have been transferred to your accounts, and Cull can remain behind to complete his battles in your arena,” said Wrinkles calmly, but there was a vein twitching in that ugly gray forehead. He obviously wanted to use his normal methods of persuasion against him. The Grandmaster hoped he would. It would be funny, and it might improve his evening. “I will return for him and the army after I have delivered the mage to Thanos.”

The Grandmaster went to sip more of his drink, but it was empty. He raised the glass in the direction of the nearest attendant, who took it and scurried to get him another. “I thought you guys were supposed to be all about balance,” he said. “You offered to help my guards capture the other intruders, and, uh, now you want to skedaddle with yours while the other three are still running around? If you want the army, you’re going to stay here until it’s all finished. I’m not offering an installment plan here.”

Maw’s eyes narrowed, and for a tantalizing moment, the Grandmaster thought he might really cut loose against him, but in the end he only inclined his head with a movement so stiff it was a wonder it didn’t snap his spine. “You have a reputation for always getting what you want, Grandmaster. It is not undeserved.” He withdrew, flexing his long-fingered hands.

The Grandmaster sighed, accepting his new drink from the returning attendant. Maybe there was still time for a party.

X

“Thor,” said Romanoff. He faced her. She looked rather pale with fright, but her brow was furrowed in determination and her voice was gentle. “If the Grandmaster’s people are after us, they’ll probably be back soon. We need to get somewhere under the radar so we can plan our next move.”

“Our next move?” he repeated with a mirthless laugh. “Loki could be halfway to Thanos by now.” He kicked one of the chunks of rubble, sending it tumbling into the street. Romanoff jumped, and he struggled to rein in his temper. Frightening his human friends wouldn’t accomplish anything, and they deserved better after everything he’d already put them through today. 

“According to the Grandmaster’s hologram announcement thing, Cull Obsidian is gonna fight in the arena two more times,” said Barton, walking up next to Romanoff. “That means they aren’t leaving Sakaar for at least another two days, right?”

“Heimdall told you they came on one big ship,” Romanoff added, “and I bet their communications off-world are getting as screwed up by the time difference as yours, so it’s not like they can call another ride.”

The knot of fear and despair in Thor’s chest loosened a little, and it became easier to temper the storm. “Come on,” he said. “I know a place we can go.” 

X

Loki came to and immediately regretted it. His skull was splitting from the blow Maw had knocked him out with and the fading effects of the drug, and his stomach felt like it was trying to crawl up his throat and escape out his mouth. He blinked his eyes open and found that he was in an irregularly shaped room, chained by his wrists to the ceiling a few feet above with barely enough slack for his toes to touch the floor. He saw the Valkyrie chained nearby, also coming out of her drugged sleep. She looked pale under her dark skin and one side of her face was caked with dried blood. He doubted he looked any better. 

“Oh, you’re still alive,” he observed. He used the nameless tongue, in case anyone else was listening. “I’m glad my intervention wasn’t for nothing.”

She scowled at him. “You’re the reason I’m in this mess in the first place,” she said, using the nameless tongue too. “He was after you, not me. If we get out of this, you owe me a ship.”

Loki returned the scowl. “How was I supposed to know Ebony Maw would show up and attack two hours after I set foot on Sakaar? It isn’t as though my brother and I broadcast our plans. I don’t even know why he was after me!” At this point in time, Thanos and his minions shouldn’t even know Loki existed, let alone that he would be on a world so far outside Yggdrasil.

“The Grandmaster has surveillance everywhere so that he can get first access to anything interesting that turns up out of the portals,” she said. “One of his cameras must’ve spotted you coming in.”

And they had arrived out of thin air in a flash of Tesseract-blue light, just when the Grandmaster was negotiating with Maw. Loki groaned. Was there anything left that could go wrong with the mission at this point? He looked around their cell. Heimdall had only described the size and weaponry of the vessel bearing Thanos’s lieutenants to Sakaar, but that information wasn’t particularly useful now that Loki was inside it. Every surface was formed of the same glistening black material that pulsed with blue and orange lights. Wherever a light appeared in the walls, floor, or ceiling, it illuminated odd structures beneath the surface. They ran with fluids of various colors, and they resembled branching veins more than pipes. It was almost as if the ship was organic. Loki noticed that fresh waves of nausea rolled through him with each pulse of those eerie lights. The sickly energy it was giving off exactly matched the tenor of Maw’s telekinetic powers, and his magic and Loki’s seidr apparently did not mix well. 

Loki gritted his teeth and wrenched at his chains. They creaked but didn’t break. He hadn’t really expected them to, but typically the best way to get out of shackles was to become something that didn’t have hands. However, the instant he began calling on his seidr to transform into a serpent, his insides rebelled violently and his focus evaporated. He fell limp against the chains for a few moments, panting and fighting back the urge to throw up. 

Right. No magic, unless he wanted to tear himself apart. Fantastic. Back to brute force, then. He heaved against the shackles again—not to break them this time, but instead to flip himself upside down like a trapeze artist. He caught one of the chains between his feet and pulled into a crouching position to give himself additional slack. From there, he was able to pit his full strength against the metal cuffs, and thereby made short work of them. Once the second one gave way, he flipped back down, landing cat-like on the floor. The impact sent out a ripple of that sickly light and another corresponding wave of nausea. 

He would've liked to have curled up in a ball until the sensation passed, but he stood upright and turned to help the Valkyrie out of her chains too. However, two loud metallic snaps sounded out, and he found her free, massaging her wrists and looking bored. Of course. 

“Heimdall?” he called. “Can you hear me?” 

There was no reply. Well, it had been worth a try. At least that meant the ship was likely still on the planet. Did Thor know what had happened yet? Was he still trying to secure translators for the mortals, or were they all on the ship too, trapped in more of these doorless cells?

“He’s still the Gatekeeper?” 

Loki faced the Valkyrie again. She was watching him with her arms folded.

“He is,” he said, brushing past her on the way to the nearest wall. He ran his hands over the strange material, face twisting in a grimace. It was unpleasantly warm and moist, which would’ve made it feel like flesh if it wasn’t far too hard. “Are you just going to stand there, or are you going to help me look for a way out?”

“You really think Maw would’ve left us alone in here if it was that easy to escape?”

“Judging from those chains, he already underestimated our strength once.”

“Yeah, and that’s why you’re freely using your magic tricks to get us out of here.”

Loki scowled at her again. “Maybe if you’d actually helped me against him instead of trying to fight both of us, he never would’ve been able to get us on his ship in the first place!” 

“I don’t help anyone,” she said, as though he’d been an idiot for expecting any kind of cooperation against an obviously stronger foe.

“Ah, yes, how could I forget that I’m speaking with someone who knows no loyalty to king or realm?”

“I don’t owe Asgard a bloody thing.”

“Except your life, just now.” He’d gone about halfway around the cell. The wall was completely seamless even as it curved and bent, and there were no gaps in the vein-like structures beneath it. 

“Considering you’re the reason I’m in this mess in the first place,” she said, “that’s already a wash, and besides, I didn’t ask you to save me.”

“You may have abandoned your oaths,” said Loki, “but I haven’t.” It was the duty of the Allfather, and the royal family by extension, to protect the people of Asgard, and she was still one of them whether she liked it or not.

“Oaths,” she scoffed. “That wasn’t about oaths, it was about you wanting to get in my pants.”

Loki's scowl became a smirk, even though by now he’d been all the way around the room and still failed to discover an exit. Perhaps a door simply grew into place when Maw needed one, and if that was the case, it likely only responded to his own commands. “Must the two be mutually exclusive?”

She laughed. It sounded more incredulous than mirthful. “Is this approach one that normally works for you?”

Given that he could count on one hand the number of times he’d been inclined to have an approach at all, he didn’t really want to answer that. To make matters worse, her proving to be one of the most aggravating people he’d ever met had done nothing so far to diminish her appeal. All he could think of doing was to be equally aggravating. Pulling his best imitation of Fandral’s most rakish smile, he said, “I’m a prince. If I didn’t actively work to thin the crowd, I’d never get anything done.”

Her eyebrows drew together and upward, and she turned her back to him. 

Chapter Text

Ebony Maw swept through the lavish but absurdly designed corridors of the Grandmaster’s palace towards the hangar where his ship sat. Not being able to bring his discovery to his master at once grated at him. He had laid waste to countless misguided fools who thought to oppose Thanos, he had found exceptional tools to be shaped for his glorious purposes—Corvus, Proxima, and Cull, for instance—and he had brokered deals with powers such as the Grandmaster that could not be directly opposed (for the time being). Every task Thanos had ever set him, he had completed to perfection. For his devotion and his success, he had been granted power and privilege none of the Great Titan’s other servants or children enjoyed. 

And now he was delayed.

Granted, Thanos had only sent him and Cull to Sakaar for the army, which would still arrive on schedule, assuming their calculations of the temporal flux had been accurate. He could not be disappointed over something he was ignorant of. And if Ebony Maw couldn’t deliver the mage to Thanos yet, he could at least prepare him for that moment. He would need to be broken of his defiance before he could be made useful.

He stepped onto the ship and opened his mouth to draw in a deep breath. Not even the palace was entirely free of this planet’s stench, but the ship had its own air supply and had remained untainted. Better than the air was the sense of the ship itself. The energy it carried within its walls was as invigorating as a good meal. He would forever be grateful to Thanos for letting him build it.

Maw collected his tools and strode to the prison corridor. Before he entered it, he pulled up the security logs and played back some of the footage from inside the cell. The mage and the warrior were awake and free of their chains. He had expected as much. He tried to listen to their conversation, but all he heard was strings of nonsense syllables, and his translator let out a burst of shrill feedback as it failed to make any of it coherent. He quickly muted the recording. Very well; let them enjoy their coded language. He would simply get the information he wanted directly.

He touched his hand to the wall, which pulsed brighter and thinned like a parting membrane to create a doorway. Both of the prisoners within shifted instantly into a combat stance. Ebony Maw lifted a finger, and a dozen surgical needles shot towards them, along with the empty chains dangling from the ceiling.

X

It didn’t take long for Natasha’s prediction about their pursuers to come true. She had to pull Thor and Clint into an alley about ten minutes after they left the destroyed bar, when a pair of soldiers matching the ones who’d tried to pen them in outside the upgrade shop appeared a little way up their street. What was more, they kept stopping people in the crowd and showing them high-resolution holograms that looked like footage from their earlier fight. 

They were going to get made in about two seconds looking the way they did. She pointed this problem out to the guys. Luckily, they were in the middle of a market, so it wasn’t hard to disappear. Within minutes, she and Clint had found enough chalky body paint and brightly colored cloth to thoroughly alter their appearances. As finishing touches, Natasha pinned her loose curls up to match one of the bizarre hairstyles she’d seen multiple times in the street, and Thor wrapped his hammer so that it looked like an innocent parcel tied to his belt.

Disguises in place, Natasha walked with Clint a short distance behind Thor, allowing plenty of room for other people to get between them. Sticking too closely together as a trio could be as much of a giveaway as anything else, but the crown prince of Asgard was so tall that his shoulder-length blond hair was easy to follow through the crowd even when he was wearing the same crazy colors as the locals. The next time they saw guards, they were able to walk right past them without drawing so much as a glance. 

Thor didn’t say where he was leading them, but his clear familiarity with parts of the city crystallized the doubts that had begun nagging at her from his initial bear hug at the palace on Asgard. Judging from the silent glances Clint kept shooting her as they followed him, he was thinking the same thing. 

They walked for over an hour (passing two more pairs of guards en route) before Thor turned to face them and jerked his head at one of the taller nearby buildings. He went inside, and after a few moments, they casually followed.

Futuristic garbage planet aesthetic aside, the skyscraper they entered looked a lot like a high-rise apartment complex. “Right,” said Thor when they caught up to him in the empty, litter-smattered hallway beyond the doors, “I think it’s on the 137th floor.” They got on an elevator, and even though it wasn’t much different from the ones at the Triskelion, Natasha felt very exposed going up the side of a building in a glass box on a planet where the crazy tyrannical overlord was already sending his goons after them. 

They reached the target floor, where there were only a few pieces of trash lying around beneath walls that zigzagged with green and white shapes. Thor confidently led the way down corridors and around corners until they came up to a window overlooking the city and trash fields beyond. He didn’t so much as glance out of it, but began fiddling with a panel by the door next to it instead. It flashed red with a very negative-sounding beep. He poked at it some more, and it did it again. He grunted in frustration, and electricity zapped from his hand into the panel. It made a much less healthy series of beeps this time and a thin trail of white smoke leaked out of the top. Apparently it did the trick, though, because the door shot open. Thor laughed and looked inside, then nodded in satisfaction and walked in. 

“What is this, a safe house?” said Clint, looking around the room. Natasha had been right: it was an apartment, sparsely furnished and not particularly tidy. There were a lot of empty bottles lying around, some piled up magazines or books, dirty clothes here and there, and a distinct lack of personal touches. At least it had a view, or what passed for one on Sakaar. 

“It should be safe enough,” said Thor. “These are the living quarters of the woman from the mead hall.”

“And you know her,” said Natasha.

“She’s the last Valkyrie of Asgard, yes,” he said. He shed the cloth portions of his disguise and walked over to what looked like a kitchen, where he started rummaging through cupboards.

“Has she been stationed here?” said Clint.

“No, I think she fell through a portal or something a few hundred years ago after a battle,” said Thor.

Clint glanced at Natasha again. She nodded and stepped forward. “Thor, we need to have a conversation.”

“Yes, of course,” said Thor with forced cheerfulness. “We’ll have some food and then we’ll discuss how we’re going to rescue my brother and the Valkyrie!” He brandished containers of something that was probably edible.

“Not that,” she said. He frowned at her, looking far more like an oversized puppy than he had any right to after what she’d seen him do. In some ways, this conversation would probably have been easier to have with Loki. Someone as shrewd as him would be less likely to get his feelings hurt from what was going to start out sounding like an accusation. “Look, we believe you that your interests are aligned with Earth’s—you’ve proven that. And we believe that you value our well-being,” she gestured at herself and Clint, “but it’s pretty clear there’s a lot you aren’t telling us.”

“Yeah, and that needs to change,” said Clint. “We wouldn’t have come here if we weren’t willing to help you, but you’re dragging us into some insane shit here. We’ve been to two different planets today, been attacked twice, and let an alien bird man shoot tentacle chips into our necks. We can’t keep doing this on faith for someone we just met.” 

Thor’s face fell, and it was suddenly easy to believe that he was really over a thousand years old. He gave a weary, rueful chuckle and set down the food containers in favor of a bottle of deep amber liquid. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised that you worked it out. Stark and Banner were often lauded as the geniuses of the team, but there was little that ever escaped your notice.”

Natasha and Clint frowned. “Stark and Banner?” said Clint.

“Neither of them is exactly a team player,” said Natasha slowly, but she was more interested in Thor’s use of the past tense, and the wistful familiarity in his voice. As far as she knew, Tony Stark and Bruce Banner might have both met Thor, but they’d never met each other, let alone worked together.

“Stark, Banner, the two of you, Captain Rogers, and I,” said Thor. “We made up the original six Avengers. Earth’s mightiest heroes. We fought side by side against many threats to your world, and you grew as dear to me as my shield-sister and brothers on Asgard.”

“Okay...are we forgetting something?” said Clint.

“Not exactly,” said Thor. He pulled the top off the bottle and drank a few mouthfuls. “I’ve just gone back into the past to before the Avengers existed, and now I’m the only one who remembers.”

Clint’s mouth fell open and Natasha sank unsteadily onto the low sofa. She felt like her brain had jammed. It was impossible, wasn’t it? Even though her definition of the word “impossible” had undergone a radical adjustment over the last few weeks. And yet it perfectly explained Thor’s knowledge of Sakaar, his behavior around them, and his intense hatred of seemingly remote villains like Thanos and his followers. 

She struggled for a detail to latch onto to begin making sense of it. “Captain Rogers?” she settled on after a few seconds. “As in Steven Grant Rogers, popularly styled Captain America, the sole subject of Project Rebirth, who went down in a plane somewhere in the Arctic after taking down a rogue Nazi research division known as Hydra in 1945 and was never recovered?” 

“He’s still alive,” said Thor, his eyes crinkling fondly. “If things happen the same way, SHIELD should find him in the ice sometime in the next few months, and if not, I’m sure Heimdall can help us locate him.” His expression turned grave. “As to Hydra, I’m afraid it is far from defeated.”

X

Loki couldn’t move. The chains from the ceiling were coiled so tightly around him that he was losing feeling in his arms, and crystalline needles the size of swords hovered a hair’s breadth from his skin at the points of several major arteries, trapping him against the back wall of the cell. The Valkyrie had taken one through the forearm when she tried to beat them away, before the chains reached her. Even pinned to the wall’s uneven surface like an insect, with several more of the needles poised to inflict additional wounds, she glowered at Ebony Maw with no sign of pain or fear. Maw, however, had not acknowledged her for a second.

“You can make this much easier for yourself if you cooperate, mage,” he said. “My master will learn everything you know about the Space Stone one way or the other. He always rewards those who serve him, and he never fails to punish those who don’t.”

“I’m terribly sorry for the inconvenience,” said Loki in his most polite diplomat voice, “but again I must decline.”

Maw’s eyes narrowed. Several of the needles rotated in the air without moving closer. “The only one who will be harmed by your obstinacy is you.”

“I’m well aware of that,” said Loki with a courteous nod. The needles didn’t prevent it. “You see, I simply couldn’t bear the humiliation of voluntarily working for a man so willfully stupid as to believe that ending half of all sentient life would be beneficial. If he were doing it for something sensible such as revenge or spite, we might be able to have a conversation. As it is…”

Maw seemed unperturbed. No doubt he’d heard every argument against Thanos’s asinine plan and was thoroughly immune to them all. “Few are capable of comprehending the Great Titan’s brilliance,” he said. “They do not understand that great progress requires great sacrifice.”

“Do your noble platitudes give you comfort when reality and logic fail to support your position?” said Loki. “Did they make it easier for you to watch him slaughter half of your people?”

Maw’s smile sent a chill down Loki’s spine. “The only day more glorious than when he came to my planet will be the day he fulfills his final destiny,” he said. “Most of Thanos’s followers require a great deal of persuasion to see the truth, but I am one of the few who sought him out. I begged him to bring his salvation to my world. He is generous and merciful, and he did as I asked, with my eager help.” He gestured at the ship around them. “My kin live on in a far more useful form now. No other population has been granted such an honor.”

“You used them as raw materials to build this ship,” Loki realized, unable to conceal his horror. 

“What the Hel?” said the Valkyrie from his right, glancing around at the pulsing lights in the walls with a sickened expression. 

“An experimental design,” said Maw. “One we will likely not use again. Few species are suited for it, and even those who are have limited application.”

“You’re insane,” said Loki. He dispensed with the politeness, putting as much contempt into his voice as he could. “The whole lot of you are insane.”

“On the contrary,” said Maw. “We are the only sane ones in a mad universe. In time, you will see.” All at once, the needles drove into Loki’s flesh. He screamed, and somewhere beneath the blinding explosion of agony, it occurred to him that they had been aiming not for arteries but for the major nerve clusters that ran alongside them. None of them missed their targets. 

X

“How can we be sure what you’re telling us is real?” said Natasha. Night had fallen outside, and the lamp and kitchen lights cast a fluorescent glow over the room. Thor was sitting on the small chair opposite her, now holding an empty bottle, and Clint was pacing in front of the window that took up the entire front wall of the apartment. 

Natasha didn’t doubt Thor’s story, not really, but things would be a lot less complicated if it wasn’t true. Half of SHIELD’s operatives were really Hydra double-agents? And they’d been working for decades without detection, twisting world events to generate widespread fear and increase their control? It shook the foundation of everything good she’d believed she managed to build for herself after Clint brought her over to their side. Hell, a lot of the information she and Clint were gathering on this mission now could do serious damage if Hydra got a hold of it. They were supposed to debrief with Sitwell when they got back. She wished she could be sure that the drinks on this planet wouldn’t kill her.

“If I wanted to do you harm, I would hardly need to lie to you first,” said Thor gently. Natasha could easily give him that one. “But I’m happy to give you whatever proof you need.” He considered a moment, then looked at Clint. “There was a time when we all needed shelter from our enemies, somewhere ‘off the grid,’ as your people say. You brought us to your family’s farm.” Clint froze in his tracks, his entire body rigid. “You introduced us to the lady Laura and your children.” Thor ran his fingers through his hair, looking sheepish. “I stepped on a toy house. I tried to nudge the pieces out of sight, but Rogers caught me.”

Natasha couldn’t help a brief chuckle at the image, and Thor smiled at her.

“The only way I’d tell you about them is if I trusted you completely,” said Clint.

“You did,” said Thor. He looked like the absence of that trust was causing him physical pain, and his expression became even more earnest, somehow. “Barton, if this quest takes you away from your family for any great length of time, I swear to you now that I will do whatever you ask of me to make it up to you and to them. I was foolish to invite you both to Sakaar. I should have remembered how time moves here, but I was so eager to rebuild the bonds we formed as the Avengers that I wasn’t thinking.”

“Why time travel at all if the Avengers defeated all of those threats?” said Clint. “Why would you want to do it all again and risk making it worse?”

“Coming back in time was more accident than plan,” said Thor. “I’m probably lucky to have survived it. I thought it was my second chance, because Earth might have done well in those years with us to protect it, but the same was not true of Asgard. By the time I beheaded Thanos, I had already lost my world, every member of my family, most of my friends, and all but a handful of my people. I was an arrogant boy who had everything, and I took it all for granted.” His eyes glistened with unshed tears. 

“That’s why you’re so afraid of Thanos getting his hands on Loki, isn’t it?” said Natasha. “It happened before.”

“My brother never spoke of it much, but Thanos unmade him. He took him when he was hurt and vulnerable and twisted him into someone I barely recognized. Just when he was getting back to himself and we had truly become brothers again, Thanos killed him in front of me. When I realized I had come back to before any of it happened, I swore I would spare him that future, but if my recklessness lands him in Thanos’s clutches again, and the Valkyrie along with him….” His voice broke and the tears came spilling down his cheeks. He looked at them pleadingly. “Protecting my little brother was the first responsibility I was ever given.” 

Images flashed in Natasha's mind. Angry men trying to take her little sister away. The rage she had felt, the terror. The weight of the handgun she'd brandished in their faces. The emptiness when she woke up in the Red Room and Yelena was gone. It was all staring back at her from Thor’s eyes. She looked at Clint. 

“We’ll get your brother back,” he said. 

Natasha nodded. “Tell us everything you can remember about Sakaar,” she said. “The smallest details might be something we can use to our advantage.”

Thor stared at them, and then an enormous, grateful smile split his face.

Chapter Text

Ebony Maw barely spared a glance for Scrapper 142 in the hours he spent in the cell. She might’ve called the prince a “pampered royal,” but she knew that his martial education would have been second to none, and that it would have included training on resisting torture. It would take more than one session to break him. Still, maintaining her apathy towards the idiot prince who had saved her life when he should have run got harder the longer Maw used those crystal needles on him. 

Today wasn’t the first day she’d seen Prince Loki Odinson. That had been over a thousand years ago, the day the Allfather and Allmother had presented him to Asgard. The entire corps of Valkyrior and Einherjar had taken turns swearing their lives and swords to the second prince. The accompanying celebration lasted for weeks, mingling with revelry over a war finally won. 

She’d been so proud to be a Valkyrie of Asgard back then. It had been her dream since she was old enough to understand what it meant, and even when it took her mother to Valhalla, her determination only grew. Not only did she succeed, but she became the youngest commander in the history of the Valkyrior. She proved she deserved it by leading a charge against a Kree incursion in her first decade at her post. Her victory inspired many songs, and an entire gyle of particularly strong ale was brewed in barrels made from the materials salvaged from the wrecked Asgardian ships. She distinguished herself even more in the Aesir-Jotnar war, instrumental both in driving the Frost Giants from Midgard and in capturing Utgard.

Because of her rank, she had been one of the first in the procession to come before Hlidskjalf, where Odin sat, a new golden patch over the eye Laufey had taken and a squirming blond toddler on his knee. Queen Frigga had stood at his side, holding a gold-wrapped bundle with a curly tuft of black hair peeking out. The commander of the Second Wing of the Valkyrior had knelt before that bundle and put fist to heart, and she’d grinned at the awestruck expression on the older prince’s round face. “She’s a Valkyrie, Pabbi,” he’d stage-whispered into Odin’s ear, his pronunciation still clumsy. Odin had solemnly agreed, Frigga had laughed, and the bundle had made happy gurgling sounds. Asgard’s future had never seemed brighter.

That day felt like a memory from someone else’s life now. It had been one of the last before it all went wrong. Unbeknownst to her or any of them in that moment, those two little princes had already become the catalysts for a rebellion that would cost her everything before it was crushed. Apparently one prince wasn’t enough of a threat for the Hela loyalists to act on, but when the second came along, it put to rest any lingering hopes that Odin might one day restore the bloodthirsty crown princess. The victorious festivities had been the perfect cover for a plot to assassinate the tiny usurpers in their cribs and open a shadow gate to Niflheim. 

And now that they were grown, those princes showed up on Sakaar and turned her life upside down again. She shouldn’t want anything to do with Loki or his brother, but part of her was curious to see exactly what her shield-sisters had died to protect. 

Maw’s needles didn’t do anything to Loki’s armor or even his skin; they seemed to simply have skipped past them and gone straight for the deep tissues. As torture methods went, this one was certainly tidy. At a few of the especially terrible moments, Scrapper 142 made an involuntary move in Loki’s direction, only for the needles hovering sentry around her to force her back and her chains to tighten. By the time Maw left them there, visibly irritated at Loki’s lack of cooperation, Loki was slumped on the floor, twitching and trembling all over. 

The needles departed with Maw, and when the wall sealed behind him, the chains fell into coils on the floor. Scrapper 142 went to Loki’s side and crouched down. He gave her a pained shadow of his earlier smirk. She raised an eyebrow. “Is this your new bid for my affections, your highness?” she asked.

“Of course,” he said. It came out half a groan. He struggled to push himself into a sitting position, and it looked like it cost him the rest of his strength to manage it. “You should be ready to swoon by now, after watching me scream and writhe on Maw’s skewers.”

“Oh, very nearly,” she said, grimacing. “But I think I liked it better when you were insulting me.”

“Well, in that case, you’re a dreadful oathbreaker and you’ll come to a bad end.”

She laughed. “Shut up and hold still.” She ran her thumbs to spots along the nerves Maw had targeted in Loki’s arms. Like the vast majority of the Aesir, she’d never learned to use her seidr for much besides standard combat enhancement, so healing magic had always been beyond her abilities, but she’d learned a number of effective mundane techniques for reducing pain. Granted, she hadn’t employed those techniques since the Aesir-Jotnar war, and trying them when she was this rusty could easily do him more harm than good. 

He let out a surprised breath and the trembling in his fingers eased. She moved systematically through the rest of the major nerves. 

“Behold my unparalleled powers of seduction,” he said dryly. “You can’t keep your hands off me.” 

She applied slightly more force to the femoral nerve than was necessary. He let out a yelp. Just because he was pretty and had a voice that could melt butter didn’t mean he could get away with comments like that. 

X

Clint, Nat, and Thor left the Valkyrie’s apartment early the next morning. Their first order of business was gearing up for the tasks ahead of them. It turned out that futuristic alien appliance shops were an absolute goldmine for espionage and surveillance, so that part was easy. Soon, they all wore interface bracers on their wrists—pretty much the Sakaaran equivalent of smartphones, by the looks of many of the other people walking around. 

Thanks to the Grandmaster’s plan to add another tower to his palace, the blueprints of the entire building were currently available to the public. They downloaded them onto their bracers, then spent some time studying them in the form of a scale holographic model, with Thor pointing out the areas he had been to, before they split up.

Clint pulled up his map, which showed three glowing yellow pinpricks moving along a network of blue lines. The central one was his own position, and the other two marked the locations of Nat’s and Thor’s bracers. They could use them to call each other up (which involved tiny, live holographic projections instead of just voices) if they needed to share information before the rendez-vous. 

The flow of foot traffic in and out of the palace was steady, just as Thor had said. The Grandmaster’s life was one never-ending party, so guests were constantly coming and going, and even though there were at least a dozen fully armored guards standing amid the crowd, there didn’t seem to be much in the way of security checkpoints to make sure the guests were who they said they were. So either the Grandmaster was the least paranoid tyrant Clint had ever heard of, or he was so powerful that no amount of public access to his home bothered him.

Finding the army bound for Thanos was simple once he was inside the palace. The main building overlooked a vast paved square with the least amount of trash he’d seen anywhere outside so far. At least ten thousand humanoid creatures stood in ordered rows, all wearing strange armor that looked like it was made of porous stone. Clint quickly found a good position to observe them that kept him out of sight of the guards. Some of the soldiers had their masks off, and he instantly regretted trying out his space binoculars on them. Their faces were gaping, oily crevices with bone jutting out along the jaws and cheeks, and four-part mandibles that moved in very unsettling ways when they talked. 

 The massive, solid figure of Cull Obsidian stomped between the rows of soldiers, evidently checking the quality of his boss’s merchandise. He was even bigger than the Hulk and it looked like his temper was nearly as bad. Most of the soldiers passed muster, but one of them must’ve looked at him the wrong way, because he lifted him off his feet by the throat and tossed him against a wall thirty yards away. He struck with enough force that he left a large, tar-black spatter on it when he fell to the ground. 

Luckier soldiers than that one were filing out of the square in a line. Clint marked the spot on his map and looked for all the routes to it. Navigating started to get trickier as he left the lavish party areas behind, but he’d been doing this kind of thing for his entire adult life. Doing it on another planet wasn’t as different as he might have thought. 

All of this was gonna make a hell of a bedtime story for Cooper and Lila.

X

Natasha was very proud of the cover identity she’d crafted for herself with the seemingly infinite funds of the House of Odin’s Nova account. Her hair was up in a looping, gravity-defying twist, she’d brushed gold paint in a crescent shape over her eyes and nose, and she wore a dress in eye-watering shades of purple and bronze. It was an ensemble that made her feel like she should be stepping onto a catwalk at a particularly eccentric fashion show, but here at the Grandmaster’s palace, it struck the perfect balance of being weird enough to fit in but not so weird that she drew much attention, positive or negative. 

Affecting an air of upper-class ennui, she picked up a drink off a table and held it as she wended her way between other psychedelic outfits towards the throne room, nodding her head slightly to the synth-heavy music. 

There seemed to be three categories of people present: wealthy partiers, slaves (well-dressed but grim-faced people with those metal disks on their necks), and guards armored head to toe in turquoise plate. The conversations she overheard in passing all sounded about as shallow as you’d expect. A lot of “You have to tell me where you bought your suit” and “Oh, that necklace is stunning!” and “Where did you go to get that bioluminescent hair?”

X

The soldiers led Clint right to Maw and Cull’s ship in the massive hangar bay. The ship was bigger than anything he’d ever seen on Earth, including SHIELD’s new helicarrier. It was also stranger than any Earth vessel. Its vast, bulbous nose and long, thin fins made it resemble a giant, metallic sea monster. 

From his perch at the juncture of two support beams for a bridge, he had a clear view of everything happening around the ship. Based on the number of soldiers he’d seen in the square, it would take more than a day to load them all, which fit the schedule he, Nat, and Thor had estimated. A tall, slender alien emerged from the ship, and Cull Obsidian left the soldiers and walked over to him. Clint pressed a couple of buttons on his space binoculars, and the translated voices of Thanos’s lieutenants sounded in his earpiece, as clearly as if they were standing beside him. 

“All in order with the troops?” said Ebony Maw.

“Most of them,” growled Cull Obsidian. “The prisoners?”

“Uncooperative. But that can be remedied, even if it takes the Mind Stone to do it.”

X

The throne room would have been unmistakable even without the map in her bracer to guide Natasha to it. The architecture might be unlike anything she’d ever seen, but it all leaned towards a single focal point. She kept moving closer until she could see the man from the giant hologram announcement the previous day. He was conferring with a stocky, grumpy-looking woman whose movements were stiff and pained. He looked very indignant about something. Natasha glided past them and loosely attached herself to a cluster of tittering ladies nearby.

“You told Wrinkles he could take Scrapper 142?” said the Grandmaster. “What is this, an abduct two for one special? Why would you do that, Topaz? You know she’s my favorite!”

“She was fraternizing with the mage when she should’ve been doing her job and capturing him,” said the woman mulishly. Natasha wondered what it was about her that made the implant give her English dub a Maori accent. 

“Well of course she was. Who wouldn’t? Lean, tall, and those cheekbones. That’s no reason to hand her over. Now I can’t get her back unless I make him a concession, and then he’ll get all smug.”

“Sorry, boss. It won’t happen again.”

“Well that’s obvious! I only had one Scrapper 142. You’ll just have to be the one to explain that to my brother the next time he visits.”

X

Thor spent the morning walking around various markets near the center of the city. He checked Barton’s and Romanoff’s indicators on his bracer every few minutes, hoping that they were having better success than he was. None of the first hundred or so people he approached had been able to help him.

As that number ticked closer to two hundred, he started to wonder if this part of the plan was too much of a stretch. It relied on variables he had no way to be sure of. 

He kept walking with no particular destination in mind. The moment he stepped into the shadow of the arena, a familiar voice reached his ears. He grinned and quickened his pace. Finally.

Korg the Kronan was standing in the middle of the street, gesticulating with a rocky hand that contained a crumpled pamphlet. “The Grandmaster is oppressing us! These battles in the arena are just a distraction. They’re obedience disks for our minds! The time for us to rise up is now!” 

A few of the people going past him paused in mild interest, but most were giving him a wide berth. “Can I have one of those pamphlets?” said a pink-skinned Krylorian.

“Oh, yes,” said Korg brightly. “Only I don’t have very many of them, so could you give it back when you’re done?” 

The girl made a face and walked away. Korg’s shoulders slumped a little.

“Hello,” said Thor.

“Hey, man,” said Korg, turning to face him. “My name is Korg.” 

“It’s an honor to meet you, Korg,” said Thor, reaching out to clasp forearms with him. “I’m Thor, son of Odin.”

“I don’t know an Odin,” said Korg, politely apologetic, “but would you be interested in learning about the ways your personal rights and dignity are being crushed in the Grandmaster’s fist?”

“You aren’t worried you’ll be arrested for talking about this right in the open?” said Thor, glancing around the street. There were at least two guards within view of Korg, but they weren’t facing his way.

Korg shrugged. “They haven’t stopped me so far, but that’s their first mistake.” He glanced at one of the guards and raised his voice for the second part. The guard didn’t turn around, and after a few hopeful seconds, he slumped again.  

“How many of those pamphlets do you have?” said Thor.

“Oh, I think I have five or six le—” He turned to the small table next to him, which was empty. “No, wait, just this one now.” He tried to smooth out the one he’d been holding. “Funds are a little tight, you know?”

Thor held up the Nova access pad. “I could help with that if you like.”

Chapter Text

Topaz scowled as she limped through the streets surrounding the arena. The big lizard’s second battle would take place in an hour, and people were flooding to the center of the city for it. She checked her bracer for updates from her subordinates, but there had still been no sign of her three targets. After how easy it had been to capture the mage, this should have been over by now. 

She tried to scan the faces of the crowd, but that task was soon made more difficult by folded pieces of paper raining down everywhere from passing drones. She picked one of them up with her uninjured hand. The thing was brightly colored, its brief message written in large lettering: 

SAKAAR IS ABOUT TO CHANGE 

Do whatever you have to do to be at the arena tomorrow. 

Even if you normally stay home in protest of our barbaric farce of a culture, you don’t want to miss this one.

Beyond those sentences, there wasn’t anything else to it. Her scowl deepened. What was this nonsense? The Grandmaster hadn’t ordered these, and there wasn’t anything special going on the next day in the arena that she knew of, except that the big lizard and Eggsy Mop would finally be leaving after the third battle. She looked around and saw that nearly everyone in sight was reading a pamphlet. They seemed not so much confused and annoyed by them, but intrigued and excited. 

Whatever this was about, it couldn’t be good. She barked orders at two of the nearest guards, then headed back to the palace to talk to the boss.

X

Maw’s second visit to the cell was much the same as the first. Loki found a perverse satisfaction in denying him the information he so desperately wanted, even as his entire body screamed in pain. With every searing slice from a crystal needle, he imagined a new form of hideous revenge he could inflict upon Maw. The different scenarios were well into the triple digits now. 

It was a hollow comfort. As long as they were on this ship, he was powerless. He’d tried twice more in Maw’s absence to use his seidr. It would require only a tiny amount to conjure the transporter from his dimensional pocket, and then he and the Valkyrie could vanish a thousand lightyears away. But it was no good. The mere attempt had nearly made him black out. The Valkyrie’s efforts to punch through the wall where Maw’s door appeared had also failed. Their best hope was that Thor would manage to rescue them, but for all they knew, he and the mortals had been captured too. 

“If you insist on remaining uncooperative,” said Maw, “perhaps I will bring Cull Obsidian in to crush your limbs.”

“Giving up already, are you?” Loki taunted. “And it only took two days. Mortal beings are so impatient.”

“It’s pretty pathetic,” snickered the Valkyrie. 

“Your resistance is pointless,” said Maw through gritted teeth. He twisted one of his hands and the needles stabbing into Loki rotated excruciatingly. “Tomorrow we leave for Sanctuary, and if you do not answer to me, you will answer to Thanos.”

“Then there’s really nothing more to say here, is there?” said Loki. 

“Perhaps not, but your pain is an end in itself.” 

X

Thor made his way along the stands in the arena to where Barton’s and Romanoff’s indicators were blinking on his bracer. The place was filling up quickly as the battle approached, and nobody paid him much attention. He was taller and broader than the vast majority of the people he passed (if they weren’t from a larger species), but his familiarity with the place combined with the rough fabric draped over his armor and the paint on his face (lines of blue which he had deliberately drawn to imitate Loki’s Jotun markings) made him look like an innocuous local. 

He almost didn’t recognize Barton and Romanoff. Barton was wearing the turquoise plate of the Grandmaster’s guards and Romanoff looked like one of the fluttery waifs decorating his parties. If Thor didn’t know them well, he never would have guessed they were Midgardians. He felt a swell of pride in his friends’ abilities, as well as gratitude for their willingness to help him. He was asking so much of them. 

He took the empty seat on their right. A preliminary bout was already underway on the arena floor. Two teams of seven, mostly comprised of species he’d never seen before, were fighting. They all looked terrified. One actually tried to run back to the entrance to the pits, but he fell to the ground in spasms as someone activated his obedience disk. The crowd howled and jeered as he was trampled.

“What have you found out?” said Thor, keeping his eyes on the grim scene before him. 

“The Grandmaster’s after us because he wants us—or you, at least—in the arena,” said Romanoff. “There must’ve been surveillance on the spot where we arrived. Topaz got lucky and found Loki right away, but the Grandmaster’s pretty pissed that Maw took the Valkyrie along with him.”

“Will he try to get her back?” said Thor.

“He doesn’t want to give Maw any leverage.”

“Then they’re only allies of convenience. Good.”

“I got the access codes,” said Barton. “There are four pairs of guards posted along our route. Everything’s pretty spread out, so if they call for backup, it’ll take a few minutes for more to show up.”

“What about Maw’s ship?”

“Thing’s huge, but it doesn’t look like it’s designed to deploy foot soldiers quickly. They’re marching them onto it two-by-two.” 

“Is the distraction going to be big enough to draw them all out?” said Romanoff.

“By morning, everyone in the city will know to come to the arena tomorrow night,” said Thor. “The guards alone won’t be enough to quell any unrest breaking out in that kind of crowd. They’ll have to call in the army.”

“Is there any way this doesn’t turn into a bloodbath?” said Barton. 

“Likely not,” said Thor. “But a smaller one than if the army is able to be used for its intended purpose.”

“Maw also mentioned uncooperative prisoners,” said Barton. “He said they might have to use the Mind Stone to change that.” 

Thor barely succeeded at tamping down his rage at the thought. It wouldn’t do to start another storm right now. “Then Thanos does already have it.” That confirmed some of what he had suspected about Loki’s time in the Titan’s clutches. He had a window one day wide to make sure it didn’t happen again.

“Are we sure the army will come?” said Romanoff. “What’s to stop Maw from cutting and running?”

“Thanos is willing to treat fairly with the Grandmaster rather than destroy him and take what he wants by force,” said Thor. “That could only be because he knows he can’t destroy him—or that it would cost him too much to do it.”

“So Maw can’t leave early without making a dangerous enemy for his boss,” said Barton.

“He’s also arrogant and fanatically devoted,” said Thor, his lip curling. “He won’t run after the insult I’m going to give him.”

Down in the arena, only one wounded alien was left standing. He put on a half-hearted show of triumph. The crowd roared, and he hobbled back to the pit. 

The Grandmaster’s voice blared out over the stands. “Let’s hear it for our brave victor!” Cheers and applause surged for another minute or so before he spoke again. “And now it’s time for tonight’s main event. You saw what he can do last night. How long are his new challengers going to last? Give it up for our guest, Scales himself, Cull Obsidian!” 

By his forced tone, it didn’t sound like the Grandmaster really believed this was going to be a spectacle worthy of being a main event, but the crowd cheered loudly anyway.

Cull Obsidian came lumbering into view. He looked exactly as Thor remembered from the Statesman. Huge, strong, mean, and stupid. He wore the same studded leather armor and carried the same massive chain-hammer. Many of the Aesir who died on the ship had fallen to that weapon—most of them women and children.

“In the opposite corner tonight, we have the Broodling Brothers!” Five creatures that looked more like enormous wasps than anything emerged onto the arena floor. Only two of them had wings, but all of their movements were exactly in sync with each other. Cull bared his teeth and ran a hand along his weapon’s blade. “They might not be pretty, but their telepathic link allows them to work together more effectively than any other team we see in the arena. What do you think—does Scales have enough raw strength to exterminate the bug squad?”

As it turned out, he did. The Broodlings’ psychic link didn’t just enable them to coordinate their attacks; it clearly also had the significant disadvantage of sharing the pain of their wounds. On their first charge, Cull dodged two and sliced cleanly through the wings of the third. They all shrieked in unison and the other winged Broodling dropped out of the air. Before any of them could recover, Cull used his weapon to crush the skull of the nearest one. It only took him a few more seconds to do the same to the other four.

The crowd’s reaction to the rapid victory was mixed. Most were startled that it was over so quickly, and a few people were already getting up to leave. The Grandmaster’s voice sounded out again, now clearly frustrated. “Well, it looks like Scales was a lot more than the Broodling Brothers could handle. But don’t head for the exits just yet. We’re going to give him a little more to do.” 

The door through which the Broodlings had entered the arena opened again, and a group of guards led out a couple dozen people whose hands were bound with shackles. “Each of the people in chains has been sentenced to death for grave crimes against me and against Sakaar. Normally my guards would take care of them, but as an extra treat for all of you, we’re going to have a little public execution elimination round. The last one standing might just earn a pardon.”

This tactic was enough to recapture the interest of most of the crowd. Beside Thor, Romanoff looked like she might be sick. 

“Are you still sure about this plan?” said Barton, eyes on the remains of the Broodling Brothers.

“I’m sure,” said Thor, watching Cull run down the first pair of prisoners. “You have everything you need to do your part?”

Though they both clearly had misgivings, they nodded.

X

Loki emerged from a haze of pain to find the Valkyrie working on his pressure points again. Maw and his needles were gone, and her callused fingers felt marvelous. “Why are you helping me?” he mumbled.

She shrugged. “Nothing else to do in here.”

“You should hate me.”

“What makes you think I don’t? I hate everyone.”

“I don’t think that’s true.”

She raised her eyebrows at him. He made an effort and caught one of her hands in his. She went very still but didn’t pull away. 

“If hatred was all there was inside you, why would you do such a kindness for the fool who got you into this situation?” She wouldn’t meet his eyes. He continued. “I think the only person you hate is yourself, and you hold yourself away from everyone else because you don’t think you deserve anything good.” 

“Norns, I’m too sober for this.” 

“Am I wrong?”

She closed her eyes. “If you’re so sure I’m more than just a bitter asshole, then why do you think I should hate you?”

“You don’t know what I am.”

“A smartass prince who can’t help mouthing off even when he’s being tortured?”

He laughed, then instantly regretted it when it agitated about thirty separate wounds. He should tell her. Letting her touch him to ease his pain when she thought he was Aes was a serious betrayal. How many Jotnar had she slain in the war? How glad had she been to do it? What would she think of someone like Freyr, who married a Jotun and had a halfbreed child with her? There couldn’t be many Aesir who wouldn’t think it an abomination. 

“Brunnhilde,” she said.

“What?” said Loki, pulling himself out of his grim thoughts.

“You asked my name. When I was on Asgard, I was Brunnhilde Sigursdottir.”

“Brunnhilde,” he repeated, smiling. “I suppose I don’t need to tell you mine.”

She smirked. “That won’t be necessary, Prince Loki.” 

He cringed. Then he’d been right; she’d seen him as a baby. How mortifying.

“What did you end up being the god of?” she asked. 

“I thought that would be obvious by now,” he said. If he were stronger, he would’ve struck a dramatic pose with his hands spread wide, but he settled for a dramatic pause instead. “Be awed, for you are in the presence of none other than the God of Mischief.”

She laughed. It sounded much lighter than it had before, though still not entirely without wryness. “It suits you.”

X

Thor marched confidently from the arena to the palace. Except for the face paint, he had dispensed with his disguise. Mjolnir swung openly at his hip, and he smiled broadly at anyone who looked at him. By the time he reached the large doors, he had attracted at least five pairs of guards and a gaggle of curious civilians. His boldness seemed to confuse the guards, because they trailed awkwardly in his wake rather than trying to stop him. 

“Hello,” he said to the guards at the door. “I come seeking an audience with the Grandmaster of Sakaar. I hear he’s been looking for me.”

They stared at him in bewildered silence. One of them eventually snapped out of it and tapped his bracer. “Uh, boss, that big blond guy just showed up. He wants to talk to you. Should we throw him in the holding cells or just shoot him?”

“No, no, this is the most exciting thing to happen all day!” said the Grandmaster’s voice. “Bring him to the throne room.”

He and the rest of the guards did, though they kept their weapons loosely pointed at him the entire way. The throne room was just how Thor remembered it, except that he wasn’t strapped to a chair. The Grandmaster came into view, sitting on his throne in a relaxed posture, sipping at a drink. Topaz stood behind him, and she was glaring over his shoulder at Thor, clenching her jaw so hard that her teeth were in danger of shattering. 

“Well my face is red,” said the Grandmaster. “I’ve had my guards running around trying to arrest you, but you were just trying to come to me!” He looked Thor up and down like a collector at an auction. “I love it.” He waved his hand in a circular motion. “The hair, the cape, the hammer. Whole thing. So tell me a little about yourself. What brings you to our neck of the universe?” 

“I am Thor, Son of Odin, God of Thunder, and Crown Prince of Asgard. My home is a realm of warriors, and over the centuries, my brother and I have traveled across galaxies in search of good battles. There seemed no better place to test our mettle next than in your arena, but we were accosted by a band of savages before we could present ourselves to you, and then my brother was taken.”

“Wow,” said the Grandmaster. “I’m not used to my fighters being volunteers. This is interesting territory. How attached are you to this brother? Would you still want to battle if someone happened to have recently traded him away?”

“If he is a prisoner, then Asgard will have to go to war with his captors,” said Thor, trying his best to imitate Loki’s negotiating style instead of getting angry. “There will be no time for mock battles in an arena.”

“Hmm,” said the Grandmaster. “To tell you the truth, I feel like I didn’t get a very good deal when I traded your brother for three nights of Scales in my arena. He’s all business in there, and he’s putting the spectators to sleep. And he and Wrinkles were no help at all when it came to tracking you down, and they took my favorite scrapper in a terrible mix-up.” Topaz snorted. The Grandmaster pointedly ignored her. 

“Perhaps you dealt with the wrong people,” Thor suggested.

“Making you the right people?” The Grandmaster stroked his chin. “I like your moxie, Lord of Thunder. How about this? I need a final challenger to go up against Scales. He’ll tear apart any pit fighter I throw at him, and there’s only so much value in watching him execute prisoners. But you might last a little longer.”

“What’s your proposal?” said Thor. 

“If he beats you, then he and Wrinkles are square with me. If you somehow manage to win and give us all a good enough show, you get your brother back as the prize.”

“You can guarantee that even though you don’t have him?” said Thor.

“No ship leaves Sakaar unless I let it,” said the Grandmaster. 

“Very well,” said Thor. “Agreed.” He stuck out his hand, and the Grandmaster shook it. “I’ll give you a fight Sakaar will never forget.”

A smile spread over the Grandmaster’s face. “Yeah?” He laughed and clapped his hands, glancing over at Topaz. “That’s what I like to hear! I should get volunteer fighters more often. This is gonna be good.” 

“It’s a trick,” said Topaz. Her face had gone a deep reddish-purple, which made sense; the guy who’d set her ship on fire yesterday was now buddying up with her boss right in front of her. “This has something to do with all those papers that rained down earlier.”

Thor smiled blandly when the Grandmaster turned a questioning look on him. “I thought I’d do a little advertising. If I’m battling for sport, I want the biggest crowd possible.”

Chapter Text

Thor waited for the arena doors to open. His hair was long, his armor was all of Asgardian make and untainted by paint, Mjolnir hung whole at his hip, no obedience disk itched into his neck, and he was here as the Grandmaster’s “guest” rather than his captive, but somehow it all felt much the same as when he had waited to fight the mystery champion. 

He was perfectly confident that he would defeat Cull Obsidian. He was going to enjoy that part. It was the other part of the plan that had him a little nervous, because it relied on his ability to successfully do something he had never attempted before. Oh, he had tested it with Barton, Romanoff, and Korg to be sure that it was even possible, and it had worked with them, but there was a very wide gulf between that and addressing a massive crowd of strangers comprised of innumerable species. 

Loki could have done it effortlessly. He always found the best words to say, and with his illusions and projections, no one would realize what he was up to until it was too late. Pity the lines of blue paint didn’t actually make Thor more like his brother.

If he failed, then no matter how his battle with Cull went, things were about to get incredibly difficult for him and his friends, not to mention everything they had set out to accomplish on Sakaar.

X

Natasha strode into the palace at a brisk pace. She’d memorized the route so that she could walk it like someone who’d done so a thousand times. By lucky coincidence, she was about the same size as the Valkyrie, so she’d borrowed some of her clothes (surprisingly, the leather and metal armor was about as comfortable as her SHIELD tactical gear, if less form-fitting, and it had a staggering number of convenient places to stash a small weapon) and done her hair, makeup, and face paint to match. No one at the party the day before would connect the giggling debutante to the surly scrapper she had become, and neither persona resembled the holograms of the woman the Grandmaster wanted captured. 

Clint stumbled behind her, hands stuck out in front of him in high-tech magnetic cuffs synced to her bracer, a gag over his mouth, and a metal disk on his neck. His reconaissance gadgets were all in a satchel over Natasha’s shoulder, along with their newest acquisition from Urizen Ul’var’s shop, none of which would seem strange for a scrapper to have on her. Clint’s clothing consisted of a white shirt, open black vest, sturdy navy blue trousers, boots, and a belt with an empty holster. Natasha was pointedly not commenting on his choice of wardrobe. For now. But she’d worked out how to record video on her bracer and would absolutely be sharing it with Laura when they got back to Earth.

Apparently scrappers bringing in new slaves were extremely commonplace, because the guards barely looked up from their bracers (which seemed to be displaying what was going on in the arena) as Natasha led Clint past them. If that display was live, then Thor’s fight hadn’t started yet. That was good. They didn’t have a very wide window to operate in.

X

Ebony Maw took his seat in the Grandmaster’s box. He had no more interest in this than Cull Obsidian’s first two arena battles, but he wanted to be present so that they could leave this planet the instant the fight concluded and their obligations were ended. He watched the Grandmaster with narrowed eyes. The man seemed irritatingly gleeful about something. It was difficult to be sure because he was always irritating, but he kept shooting glances at Maw as though looking forward to his reaction. 

The stadium, Maw noticed, was packed to the brim with aliens of every description. The sight made his lip curl. Such a glut of life. It infested even a remote, undesirable world like Sakaar with its disease. This planet’s very existence was proof that his master’s solution was sorely needed. Maw would soon bring him one step closer to that solution. He shivered in anticipation. It didn’t matter how stubborn the mage insisted on being now. 

The Grandmaster stood up and waved at one of the attendants, who pressed a few things on his bracer. The arena was suddenly illuminated by a hologram that stood twice as tall as the highest row of seats. “Wow! Look at this crowd. I should probably have them stop letting more people in, but I’m kinda curious how much weight these stands can take. Now, who’s excited about tonight? Let’s get a round of applause for the warm-up act.” 

He led the clapping as a few battered fighters hobbled out of the arena while the corpses were dragged out by soldiers. “They sure tried their best.” At this point, he became considerably more animated. “Next up, for our main event, we have Scales back for his last ever battle in this arena.” More applause. He let it go on only a few seconds before cutting it off with his next words. “But what’s this? A surprise volunteer in the opposite corner?”

A rumble of interest ran through the audience. Ebony Maw frowned and peered out at the arena. Cull was waiting near the center for his opponent to emerge, his weapon braced against his shoulder. The only one who had ever defeated Cull in battle was Thanos himself. The idea of anyone lesser challenging him voluntarily was ludicrous, particularly if they’d already seen him fight. 

“Ladies, gentlemen, reptiloids, fishoids, walking treeoids, and superintelligent shades of the color blue, I give you...the Lord of Thunder.”

And into the far end of the arena walked none other than the blond warrior who had arrived on Sakaar alongside the troublesome mage. The crowd cheered. Ebony Maw stared, then rounded on the Grandmaster, who ignored him. “He tells me that not only is he royalty, but a warrior with centuries of battle experience,” he continued, “and as you all know, he’s gonna need it. Before we start, he’s requested a chance to introduce himself. So, uh, Lord of Thunder, these are probably your last words; you’d better make ‘em count.”

The hologram vanished, and the warrior walked forward. Cull shifted his weight, impatient over the delay, but he had enough restraint to follow the procedure the Grandmaster had laid out. 

“People of Sakaar!” the warrior boomed. The arena’s acoustics were such that everyone in the stands would be able to hear him easily. “I am Thor, the God of Thunder, Crown Prince of Asgard, Son of Odin—”

“What? ” Maw hissed. He was one of the few in Thanos’s inner circle who knew of the war against Asgard. Thanos, in his wisdom and humility, readily admitted that he had used the wrong strategy against Odin. He had underestimated the power of filial loyalty, a weapon he had taken care to add to his own arsenal many times over in the two millennia or so since. 

“—and I am here to reclaim my brother from this creature and his comrade.” 

“WHAT?! ” 

“Oh,” said the Grandmaster, as though he had only just realized Maw was there. “I might’ve forgotten to fill you in on this part. Yeah, you came up short on your end of our bargain, so if he wins, I’ll need you to return Scrapper 142 and the pretty mage.”

The edges of Maw’s vision began to pulse with rage. He prided himself on being calm and collected in even the most taxing circumstances, but he was discovering that even his patience had its limits. After spending all his waking time over the last two and a half days split between playing at cordiality with this absurd man and failing to wrest any useful information out of the mage, he was a hair’s breadth from snapping.

“He will not win,” Maw ground out.

“Then you agree to the new terms,” said the Grandmaster, beaming. “Wonderful.” 

The pulsing intensified. It would be so very easy to send every sharp object in this room flying at and through the Grandmaster. But he must control himself. Cull would fell Thor as easily as he had felled the others, and then they could leave this insufferable planet with their diplomatic ties intact. Yes, perhaps this was a positive development. In addition to the army, he could return with the head of one child of Odin and another captured and in possession of knowledge of the Space Stone. It would be their most triumphant return yet. 

Maw had been so distracted by the warrior’s identity and the Grandmaster’s double-dealing that he only now noticed the behavior of the audience. Thor had continued speaking, and one in seven or eight people—with a much heavier concentration among the guards and people in finer clothing—was wincing at every syllable and grumbling in confusion, while the rest sat in wide-eyed silence. Maw focused on Thor with a frown. The sounds he was making were utterly incomprehensible, and his translator gave an unpleasant jolt under his skull. It was just like when he had tried to listen to his prisoners’ conversation with each other. 

Beside him, the Grandmaster’s smile had fallen a little. He didn’t appear to be in any pain from a translator malfunction, but his eyes roved around the crowd too. The two of them only had a few seconds to be puzzled and troubled by this before Thor faced the box again. “I thank you for your accommodation, Grandmaster.”

“Yeah, you’re welcome,” said the Grandmaster. No hologram this time, but his voice blared out across the arena. “Now let’s see a fight!”

The crowd was slow to react, but the cheer that built up as Thor and Cull faced each other was easily the loudest one yet. A foreign sensation settled over Maw’s mind. It took him a moment to realize what it was: uncertainty. 

X

Natasha and Clint worked their way to the heart of the palace’s lower floor. After several long corridors and a few guard posts, their destination finally lay in sight ahead of them. Another pair of guards stood in front of an open doorway, behind which they could see glimpses of an elaborate network of electronics.

They made it half a step past the guards before two spears swung down to block them from entering the mainframe chamber. “Where do you think you’re going?” said the one on the left.

Natasha rolled her eyes and pulled out an obedience disk remote she’d taken from the Valkyrie’s apartment. “My remote stopped working.” She clicked it, pointing at the disk on Clint’s neck. He scowled through his gag, but nothing else happened. “They sent me here for the repairs.”

The guards withdrew their spears. “Olivox, company!” said the one on the right. Natasha gave her bracer a jerk, snapping the cuffs forward and nearly making Clint faceplant before following her inside. The guards snickered. 

A very lizard-looking alien, presumably Olivox, came into view around one of the glowing towers she assumed was a server. It was a little taller than Clint and had yellow, slit-pupiled eyes that flicked back and forth between them. “Mammals,” it said with disdain, a forked tongue flashing. Natasha had no idea what its native language sounded like, but the translator added an extra hiss to the “s.” “Try not to get hair or skin on anything. There’s a lot of delicate circuitry in here.”

X

Thor still wasn’t sure how effective his speech had been. It was obvious, at least, that none of the Grandmaster’s henchmen had understood a word, because they hadn’t made a move to shut him up, capture, or kill him. The rest of the crowd had been quiet, but that could be for all sorts of reasons. He put the matter aside, his eyes on Cull Obsidian. If they hadn’t made up their minds already, the fight would have to persuade them.   

Cull was practically foaming at the mouth with anticipation and bloodlust by the time the Grandmaster finally signaled for the fight to begin. He surged forward, weapon raised. He brought it crashing down towards Thor, but Thor was ready for it. He threw Mjolnir straight up at the last moment, propelling himself clear and landing behind Cull. The crowd, which had been halfway into a groan, expecting another quick victory for Cull, sputtered out a gasp of shock. Before Cull could adjust to his opponent’s unexpected flight, Thor threw the hammer. It was deliberately only a glancing blow, and it chipped one of the horn ridges on top of Cull’s head before flying back to Thor’s hand. 

Cull felt the damage with his free hand and rounded on Thor with a furious snarl. 

Thor gave him a cheeky grin. “Sorry about that,” he said. “I could even things up if you like.” This got a ripple of surprised laughter from the crowd.

Cull charged him again. This time his initial attack was a feint. He started in the same way he had the first time, but then curved his weapon around to swing upward, the head coming loose from the handle on a long chain. Thor should probably feel insulted that Cull thought he was stupid enough to use the exact same dodge as the first time. He leapt and rolled to the side instead and hurled Mjolnir again. It hit the opposite horn, chipping off a slightly bigger piece. 

“Whoops!” said Thor. “I think I just made it worse. Do you want me to fix it, or were you planning to actually start the fight?”

The laughter was getting louder, and the Grandmaster had joined in. “I’ll crush you like the insects they sent yesterday, little man,” Cull growled.

“He speaks!” Thor crowed. “I was starting to think you nothing but Thanos’s dumb beast. It was a shame; banter is never as fun when it’s one-sided.”

Thor wasn’t normally one for this much banter himself—particularly in a battle as personal as this. True, Cull’s victims on the Statesman were all alive and well in this timeline, but that didn’t change what Thor had watched him do to them, and it certainly didn’t change that he was one of Loki’s captors now. But the Grandmaster wanted a show, and Barton and Romanoff needed as much time as he could give them.

X

Natasha tossed Olivox the obedience remote. “Piece of shit remote couldn’t handle my last job. Had to drag the merchandise all the way here without it.” She jerked her thumb at Clint. “If that happens again, we’re gonna have a problem.”

The lizard creature looked deeply offended but not surprised. It raised the remote to its eyes and frowned, then walked with a sinuous, bobbing gait over to a flat surface and pulled out a handful of tools. In five seconds, it had the remote open, revealing its blackened, electricity-scarred inner workings. It gave her a disgusted look. “What did you do, throw it into your ship’s reactor?” 

No, just let a God of Thunder play with it for a few seconds. “Can you fix it?” she said.

“There’s nothing left to fix. It’s completely fried.”

“So get me a new one.”

Olivox glared some more, its pupils even narrower than before. “You scrappers are all a bunch of assholes, you know that?” It bustled off out of sight. Natasha glanced back at the guards. They were facing the corridor. She pulled Ul’var’s merchandise out of her satchel and stuck it to the underside of the workbench, then returned to her previous position in time for the lizard to reappear, holding a shiny new obedience remote. 

“Ruin another one and I’m reporting you to Topaz.”

“Thanks,” said Natasha, slipping the new remote into its slot in her armor. She turned to go, giving Clint’s cuffs another tug.

“What, you’re not even going to test it?” said Olivox.

Natasha gave him a scornful look. “Here? We’re five minutes from the pens. Why incapacitate him now when he can just walk himself there? I’ll test it once he’s inside.”

Olivox looked annoyed but didn’t protest, and the two of them walked back out between the guards, down the corridor, and around the corner.

X

“I love a game of cat and mouse as much as the next all-powerful planetary overlord, but I think it’s time for some action,” said the Grandmaster. The crowd roared its agreement. Thor’s battle with Cull so far had mostly consisted of dodging Cull’s attacks and provoking him as much as possible with irritating taps from Mjolnir. The crowd had enjoyed watching Cull’s humiliating inability to keep up with him despite his size advantage and his versatile weapon, and the strategy had been highly instructive as to Cull’s fighting style, but Thor had known it would only work for so long, and it was clearly time to change things up.

Cull, now nearly out of his mind with rage, came barrelling at him again. This time, Thor met him head on. A spray of sparks flew at the clash of steel against uru, and Cull’s momentum drove Thor back several yards. Cull twisted something on the handle of the enormous chain-hammer, and a claw attachment shot out and seized Thor by the right leg. With a triumphant roar, Cull spun and swung with all his might, sending Thor tumbling through the air. He smashed into the far wall of the arena hard enough to leave a dent in it. The crowd made a sound of disappointment that quickly turned to relief when Thor got back to his feet. The Hulk could throw harder than that.

Cull pressed his advantage, running for Thor at a full sprint. Halfway to him, he twisted his weapon’s handle again, switching it back into its long, bladed form. He threw it like a spear. Thor moved to the side just before it slammed into the Thor-shaped dent. Pain lanced through him. He took a second to look down. The blade had sheared right through the dwarf-forged scales on his arm and sliced a full two inches through skin and muscle. That one second was enough for Cull to close the remaining distance, and he came down on top of Thor with both fists swinging. 

Barton and Romanoff needed to hurry.

Chapter Text

Natasha forced Clint around the corner, down two more corridors, and into an elevator that took them to the sub-levels. Even without the map, it would’ve been easy to tell they were near the slave pens. The closer they got, the stronger the smells of sweat and blood (and probably several different alien versions of the same) became, all layered on top of the ever-present garbage smell. 

Only when they were almost to the place where the fighters were kept did she drop the act. She tapped the screen of her bracer and Clint’s cuffs popped open. With a wince, he scratched around the disk on his neck and tugged his gag free. “You had way too much fun doing that,” he complained, massaging his jaw.

“I’m not the one using a Star Wars character as my cover identity,” said Natasha, passing him his blaster and gadgets from her satchel.

“You can’t expect me to pass up an opportunity like this,” he said defensively, holstering the blaster and strapping on his bracer. “Cooper would never forgive me.”

That was probably true. Clint’s boy had gotten a toy lightsaber for his ninth birthday two months ago and still never went anywhere without it. 

“Okay, time to see if Urizen is as good at sabotage equipment as he is at translators,” said Natasha. She pulled up the activation screen and shot Clint a slightly nervous look.

“He sounded pretty confident that it would do the job.”

“Yeah, but it seems like the kind of thing that he should get in a lot of trouble for selling if it actually does what it’s supposed to.”

“That’s why we didn’t tell him what we’re using it for, and probably why he didn’t ask.”

Natasha smirked and nodded. She took a deep breath, then punched the activation button.

There was a rumble from overhead and the floor shook.

X

As Cull’s fists pummelled him into the ground, Thor reflected that it had been, perhaps, unwise to goad him into such a rage. There were other ways to make a fight last. 

He used his position on the ground to kick out at the nearer of Cull’s legs, which buckled out from under him. Ears ringing, body aching, and left arm covered in blood, Thor jumped somewhat ungracefully back to his feet and stuck his hand out for Mjolnir. Cull, too, reached for his weapon, which was still embedded in the arena wall. At the last moment, Thor jerked his hand out of the way so that Mjolnir caught Cull full in the stomach. He folded around it, the breath whooshing out of him and his weapon falling out of his fingers. 

Thor summoned the hammer again and closed in, but Cull made a great swipe at the ground, flinging dust and dirt into Thor’s eyes. Thor recoiled and Cull was able to seize his weapon. They fought in close quarters for a few moments, kicking up even more dust. Thor could scarcely hear the crowd over the blood pounding in his ears. He jumped to avoid the low sweep of Cull’s hammer, bringing him high enough to clock Cull across the jaw. Cull went sprawling into the dirt, and Thor decided it was time to take ranged attacks out of his opponent’s arsenal. 

He spun Mjolnir and hurled himself skyward. As he had hoped, Cull gave his weapon’s handle a twist and unleashed the chain grapple feature again. Thor waited until it was inches from him, then swung his hammer and smacked the claw end out of his path. Before Cull could retract it, Thor unsheathed the Dragonfang strapped to his back and brought it down in a great arc. It cut through the chain as if it was made of butter, and Thor let out a laugh on the way back to the ground, the severed claw attachment thudding down behind him. He hoped the Valkyrie would forgive him for borrowing her sword. He’d always wanted to try one in a battle.

X

The Grandmaster was on the edge of his seat. This was some of the best entertainment he’d had in his arena since its debut. It was good that the Lord of Thunder seemed to be enjoying himself, because this would not be his last battle. Things were really looking up. He had his fat payout from the big purple guy, a new champion, and soon he would have Scrapper 142 back, along with an intriguing new plaything. After all, he’d only promised to retrieve the Lord of Thunder’s brother from Wrinkles for him, not to let either of them go. Letting them stay together in his service was better than anyone else got. Who could ask for more?

“Hey, boss,” came Topaz’s voice from the console beside him.

“Not now!” said the Grandmaster impatiently, watching the Lord of Thunder walk off yet another full strength punch from Scales and retaliate with that magic hammer.

“There’s been an explosion in the control room. We’ve lost our surveillance and I’m getting reports from guards all over the city that the obedience disks have failed.”

“What?” said the Grandmaster, very unhappy to have to pay attention to what she was saying. “Well do something about it! Get the prisoners with jobs rounded up until we can fix it!”

“Right away.”  

He was going to have to have words with her about her testy attitude lately. But later. After the fight.

X

“Shit, I thought that thing was an EMP!” said Clint. He had to shout to be heard over the alarms blaring through the halls, but as apprehensive as he was about how the Grandmaster’s legion of guards were going to react to this, they did at least know it had worked. Two seconds after the explosion, the obedience disk had detached from his neck and clinked to the floor. He hadn’t bothered to pick it up. That thing was freaking creepy.

“All Urizen said was that it would take out any tech in a twenty-foot radius,” Nat yelled back. “He didn’t say how.” 

They held their blasters at the ready and ran for the entrance to the pens. The guards at the doors were too busy shouting for the slaves inside to pipe down to see them coming. 

X

The small portion of the screen on Thor’s bracer that was still intact flared green. A grin spread over his face. He was probably going to need to spend some time in Eir’s healing room when they made it back to Asgard, but Barton and Romanoff had completed Phase 1, which meant this battle was about to end.

Cull was charging for him again. He closed his eyes.

X

Gladsheim, Three Mornings Ago

“I think we should act on this as quickly as possible, Father,” said Thor. “These lieutenants will not long be separated from their master, and we cannot allow Thanos to gain the strength of another army.”

“Agreed,” said Odin.

“I spent time on Sakaar in the other timeline,” Thor argued. “We will have the advan—” He broke off, blinking, Odin’s reply registering belatedly. Loki raised his eyebrows at Thor and smirked from across the glimmering projection of Yggdrasil. “Wait, you agree?” 

“Of course. This intelligence will not hold its value for long. We should not let the opportunity go to waste.” Odin eyed Thor, the corner of his mouth twitching. “Did you think I would object?”

“I—well,” Thor spluttered, “it is only that Asgard hasn’t moved against Thanos since you expelled him from Yggdrasil’s borders.”

“Yes, and for all this time, it seemed an effective strategy. Three of the six prizes he seeks are inside those borders and beyond his reach. In light of your experiences, I regret not taking a more offensive position against him sooner.” He raised his hands to both princes’ shoulders and gripped tightly, and his voice became low and dangerous. “I will not allow him another opportunity to take one of my children from me.”

“Another?” said Loki sharply. 

Odin’s jaw clenched. “Hela,” he said. “He tried to win her to his side. What better partner for his foul schemes than the Goddess of Death?”

“Tried?” said Thor, more surprised than ever. “Then she refused him?” 

“Hela was and is every inch the ruthless conquerer I was in my youth,” said Odin, walking around to the other side of the glowing console, hands clasped behind his back. “While she cared little for the suffering of other peoples when it was to Asgard’s benefit, this realm has never had as fierce a defender as its Crown Princess before the Aesir-Vanir war. Where Thanos erred was in expecting her to help him enact his plan against Asgard itself.”

“Hela killed well over half of Asgard’s people by her own hand!” said Thor, almost shouting. “Why should she care if Thanos wants to do the same?” The very idea of his genocidal sister actually living up to her responsibilities as royalty in the past rankled. Why then and not now?

“Asgard loved and respected her then,” said Loki, eyes on their father, watching his reactions. “When she returned, it was to a people who had forgotten her and stood between her and her goals. She would have considered it treason.”

“Yes,” said Odin. For a moment, he looked incredibly ancient and full of regret. He had shown his sorrow over Hela before, but this was the first time Thor recognized in him a father who missed his little girl. “Thanos stood no chance against Asgard with Hela leading our armies at my side.”

That calculating look was back on Loki’s face. Thor made an effort to control his anger before it could start affecting the weather. His father and brother had not witnessed the slaughter wrought by Hela, as he had. They had not lived for weeks on a ship filled with the grieving survivors of her wrath. What did it matter if Hela had fought Thanos in the past when she had practically handed Asgard over to him two thousand years later? Why could Father still not admit that the only way to protect their people was to destroy her, and why did Loki keep acting as though he wanted to find a different solution? 

Thor breathed slowly through his nose. Losing his temper now would accomplish nothing, and he still had a request to make of Father that he would surely deny if he failed to prove that he was capable of mastering himself.

“Then as with the Crown Princess before,” said Loki, “if we begin with strong, swift action led by the Crown Prince, half the work of persuading the people that this is a worthy war will already be done.”

“True,” said Odin. “It may also smooth our path to an alliance with Jotunheim.”

“Common enemies are quite useful that way,” said Loki.

With that, the discussion returned to the topic of Thanos’s lieutenants, and Thor repeated the information he had given them before. Based on Heimdall’s descriptions, they would be dealing with Ebony Maw and Cull Obsidian if they went to Sakaar. Away from Thanos’s side, they shouldn’t be too difficult to defeat, but Thor would be a fool to go after them as he was now.

They concluded their business with the intent to discover how quickly they could reach Sakaar and whether it would require Odin to draw upon his stores of dark energy. Remembering what a toll that took on Odin to transport only Thor as short a distance as from Asgard to Midgard, Thor would see if the transporters Jane, Erik, and Banner were building could serve instead. 

At a significant look from him, Loki departed the council chambers, leaving him alone with Odin.

“The evening we spoke to Loki about his heritage, he asked me to remove the enchantment I placed on him as a baby to prevent him returning to his native form under his own power. Am I right in thinking you wish to make a similar request of me now?”

Thor swallowed. “Yes, Father. I hope you will believe that I do not seek greater power for my own glory.”

“You lifted the hammer, did you not?” said Odin with a bit of a smile. “What reason have I to doubt?” 

Thor’s throat tightened. Mjolnir or not, he wasn’t sure he deserved such praise. 

Odin laid a wizened but still strong hand over Thor’s heart, and tendrils of golden seidr began to swirl around his fingers. “You carry a heavy burden, my son. I fear I am only adding to it now, but you give me cause to hope that for all the sins of my line, Asgard’s doom is not assured.”

X

Thor’s eyes flew open. His vision flashed blue-white and lightning surged up unrestrained from within him. He drew back his fist and slammed it forward with all his strength. Cull had built up too much momentum to change course, but the blaze of light forced him to turn his head to shield his eyes. His blade missed Thor by a full two feet, and Thor’s fist landed directly in the center of his chest. There was a clap of thunder and Cull tumbled backwards head over heels, landing in a twitching heap halfway across the arena, a faint line of smoke trailing from him. 

X

The Grandmaster let out a delighted laugh while Ebony Maw watched in horror as Cull steadily lost ground to the man who had inexplicably transformed from an irritatingly skilled opponent into lightning incarnate. Bolts of the stuff arced off his skin and spilled from his eyes as he bore down on Thanos’s strongest enforcer. The wild roaring of the crowd, loud as it had become, was lost to the rolling peals of thunder from a storm that had not been there moments ago. 

Maw had been arrogant. Thanos himself had not triumphed over Odin and his daughter. Why had he been so quick to assume that a single servant of Thanos could best another of the pretender god’s children unassisted? Even Maw might have had difficulty with the brother if he hadn’t been drugged for easy retrieval. 

He would have to warn Thanos of this resurgent threat, and he would have to personally answer for the loss of Cull Obsidian. Whatever his master deemed a just punishment for this failure, he would submit to without complaint. 

“Hey Wrinkles,” said the Grandmaster with undisguised glee. “Looks like it’s about time for you to pay up. It would be rude to keep my new champion waiting for his prize.” 

Maw snapped. The spears of all the guards in their box freed themselves from their owners’ grips and flew straight at the Grandmaster, piercing him from four different angles. 

For a moment, time seemed to freeze. Horror and regret over his loss of control warred with satisfaction and spite in Maw’s breast. 

“Wow, someone’s a sore loser,” said the Grandmaster. He looked down at his wounds and pouted. “And I had this outfit made special for tonight.” He gave Maw a reproachful look and started pulling the spears free of his body one by one and tossing them back to their owners. There wasn’t a drop of blood on any of them, and nothing but smooth skin was visible through the fresh holes in his clothing. What was more, the guards made no move against Maw, only watched him with narrowed eyes, waiting for orders. They recognized an enemy, but not a threat. 

Maw hadn’t questioned why Thanos was willing to meet the Grandmaster’s terms to acquire the Sakaaran army rather than simply making Sakaar his next target and taking it by force, but perhaps he should have. He had made another terrible error. He fell to his knees. “Forgive me. You are right, of course. We did not capture the warrior or his companions as we agreed, and we are in your debt. You must collect it as you see fit.” 

“Ooh, that’s nice,” said the Grandmaster, looking amused. Maw’s entire being seethed with loathing. How could a creature so petty and so ruled by whims of the moment be this powerful? It was wrong. “I’m not really into forgiveness, though. You owe me a new fancy outfit.”

“Of course,” said Maw, his brain working frantically. “I will bring you the mage and the Scrapper at once.” A desperate plan began to form, but it could work. It had to. “With your leave, I will deliver them directly to the arena from my ship.”

Chapter Text

Natasha and Clint stepped over the bodies of the guards they’d just taken out with their blasters and opened the doors to the first pen. Inside, they found a large room that curved out of view in both directions around a wide circular center wall. Several aliens—none the same species—stood clustered just through the doorway. Their eyes traveled from the two humans to the fallen guards and back. 

“We’re here to free you,” said Clint. 

“But...you’re a scrapper.” The speaker was about twice as tall as them and had three heads.

“It’s just a disguise,” said Natasha. “We’re the ones who took care of your obedience disks.”

Clint pointed at the spot on his neck where he could still feel the welt left by his own obedience disk. “Come on,” he said. “More guards are probably on their way.”

They raised no further objections, and the three-headed guy and the next-largest alien picked up the fallen guards’ blasters before following them. They went from door to door as quickly as they could. Soon, they were at the head of a crowd of over two hundred pit fighters. Six more guards had shown up, but the two armed aliens took them down with cool efficiency, and then there were eight armed aliens. The first two joined Natasha and Clint at the front while the other six guarded the rear. 

Whether it was gratitude, lack of any other ideas, or being accustomed to following orders to stay alive, the whole crowd stuck close to them. Each encounter with palace guards put more weapons in their hands. Natasha and Clint led the way to the hangar. They needed to find Maw’s ship and cripple it so it couldn’t leave the planet.

X

Brunnhilde had been pacing the cell for what seemed like hours. Loki would probably be doing the same if he were capable of standing for any length of time. The nauseating aura of the ship was so overpowering that he couldn’t so much as use his seidr passively to speed up his healing process, so his wounds from both torture sessions still stabbed at him with every movement. All that was already bad enough, but he was also exhausted, hungry, and dirty.  

Without warning, the ship lurched around them. Loki’s heart leapt. Had Thor and the mortals worked out a rescue plan after all? Were they coming for them? He hadn’t doubted that they would try, but succeeding was another matter. 

“I think we’ve lifted off,” said Brunnhilde, staring around at the walls. Loki had been trying not to look at that sickly pulsing light too much, as it did nothing to help settle his stomach, but he immediately saw what had caught her attention. The lights pulsed brighter and faster now, the liquid rushed more rapidly through those vein-like structures, and the floor vibrated beneath him. 

The brief surge of hope died. She was right. Even if Thor was trying to get to them, it wouldn’t matter. They’d be far beyond his reach in moments. He looked at her and narrowed his eyes. She had stopped pacing, and her posture was much more relaxed. “You seem calm for someone about to be delivered to the most dangerous madman in the universe,” he observed.

She shrugged, not looking at him. “It’ll be a change of scenery.”

He held his gaze on her. “You never did say what you’re doing on Sakaar.”

“No,” she said, shooting him an icy glare. “I didn’t.” 

He didn’t push further, but the mystery she presented served as a helpful distraction from his condition...and the thought of what awaited them at their destination. 

X

Clint and Nat reached the hangar with their small army of increasingly armed freed slaves, but when they got there, the massive, sea monster-looking ship was gone. Clint’s stomach dropped. Had he just failed to keep his promise to Thor that they would get his brother back? 

Another group of guards came running their way—this time about a dozen. Clint led the charge on them. It lasted less than half a minute. The slaves didn’t hesitate to loot the bodies. While they did, Clint pulled Nat to the side and tapped a few things on his bracer. A small hologram of Korg flickered into existence above his wrist. One helpful thing about these bracers was that they were very good at eliminating ambient noise. Only a hint of the raucous shouting around Korg came through when he spoke. Also, judging from the brilliant light illuminating his face every other second, Thor’s battle was going well. 

“Hey, man. It’s too bad you couldn’t be out here for Thor’s speech. I haven’t cried that hard since Mum introduced me to her boyfriend. And now he’s actually winning against the big lizard guy! How’s it going on your side of things?”

“We took out the mainframe and freed all the fighters,” said Clint.

“Oh, wow!” said Korg, looking delighted. “When I let you guys take the lead on my revolution campaign, I mostly expected this would all be a symbolic gesture that would inspire future rebels to take action while we perished in the Grandmaster’s cells or the arena, but you’re actually a lot better at this than I thought!”

“Thanks,” said Nat flatly.

“Yeah, well don’t get too excited just yet,” said Clint. “Phase 1 went off without a hitch, but we’re here in the hangar now and Ebony Maw’s ship is gone.”

Korg’s rocky eyebrows curved briefly into surprise and dismay, but then he seemed to get distracted by something above the arena. “Er...what does the ship look like?”

Clint tapped a couple more things and sent Korg one of the images he’d taken of it when he was here doing recon. 

“It’s out here,” said Korg. “It’s nearly over the arena.”

“We’ll get there as soon as we can,” said Nat.

X

Topaz wasn’t often unhappy to be proven right, but this was one of those times. She knew it was a bad idea to let that thunder guy have a go in the arena, especially when they still hadn’t tracked down the man and woman he had with him. This chaos was their fault, somehow, and the boss had just let it happen. She’d better get a pay rise for cleaning up this mess.

Based on the locations of the posts where guards no longer responded, the slaves had moved from the pens to the hangar. If they’d been hoping to commandeer a ride off-world there, though, they’d been foiled, because now they appeared to be heading for the arena. She sent out a blanket order to all remaining guards in the palace to get to the south corridor immediately. 

X

“So, uh, Lord of Thunder,” said the enormous hologram of the Grandmaster, “these are probably your last words; you’d better make ‘em count.” 

With that, the hologram disappeared, and Thor felt the weight of tens of thousands of eyes settle on him. He spotted Korg in one of the lower rows (the people behind him were crossly standing up and leaning to the side in an attempt to see around him). The Kronan gave him a wave and a double thumbs up. Had less been riding on his performance, Thor would gladly have returned the gesture.

“People of Sakaar!” he boomed. “I am Thor, the God of Thunder, Crown Prince of Asgard, Son of Odin.” He pointed at Cull Obsidian with Mjolnir. “And I am here to reclaim my brother from this creature and his comrade.” 

He took a deep breath, focused on the way he wanted to narrow his audience, said a brief prayer to the Allfathers that this would work, switched to the nameless tongue, and spoke from the heart.

“Now, this part is for everyone here who isn’t happy to be under the Grandmaster’s rule.”

X

Cull still fought, even though the battle was clearly Thor’s. The crowd’s steady chant of “THUNDER! THUNDER!” rang through the arena, while the real thing continued to rumble overhead. 

Cull swung what was left of the bladed version of his chain-hammer. Thor batted it aside with a hand engulfed in lightning, pressing steadily forward. He threw Mjolnir at Cull’s right knee, and he could just hear the sound of shattering bone through the shouts and the storm. Cull let out a bellow of pain, his leg crumpling out from under him, and he went down hard. He tried to swing his sword again, but this time, Thor struck his wrist instead of the weapon itself. More bone shattered, and the chain-hammer fell to the ground.

X

Thor could see that the vast majority of the crowd was still watching him raptly as he spoke, while the remainder seemed to be fighting sudden headaches. He could have laughed in relief. It was working.  

“If you can understand my words now, then you know this isn’t what you want. You struggle to survive, to keep your families safe, to avoid the notice of the Grandmaster and his guards. You live in fear that someone will slap an obedience disk on you and make you a slave, or that the Grandmaster will decide your existence offends him. It may have happened already to someone you love. My brother and I had barely been on Sakaar two hours when he was taken, though he had committed no crime.”

X

Thor seized Cull around the neck, dragging his face up so that he could look into his eyes. The trails of lightning still coming off him left burns wherever they connected with Cull’s scaly hide, though there wasn’t much left at this point that wasn’t already burned.

“Your victory here...is meaningless,” Cull rasped. “You cannot stop Thanos. He will correct the universe, and...your brother will help him do it.”

Thor swung Mjolnir a final time, bringing it down on Cull’s head. Cull’s huge limbs flailed for a second, then went limp. Thor glowered down at the corpse of his foe. “I’ve already stopped Thanos once,” he told it. “I’ll do it again.” 

He stepped back and looked up at the crowd, which had gone so silent that it seemed to be holding its collective breath. 

X

“Look around you. You think they have more power than you, but you’re wrong. Look how many of you there are. Look how few of them. They can be fought, and I’m going to prove it to you.” 

He pointed Mjolnir at the increasingly restless Cull Obsidian. “This creature, the Grandmaster’s honored guest, works for the Mad Titan, Thanos. I know some of you here are from worlds he has already left in ruin. That devastation is only the beginning. He wants to wipe out half of the population of the universe, and yet the Grandmaster is happy to sell him an army and bring him closer to that goal. I didn’t come to this arena to fight for a tyrant’s amusement. I came to fight for life, freedom, and all we hold dear. Today, I offer you a choice. Will you let this continue, or will you fight?”

X

“I ask again,” said Thor, raising Mjolnir high and turning to look at every section of the stands. “People of Sakaar. WILL. YOU. FIGHT?”

X

The Grandmaster slowly got to his feet, frowning down at his new champion, who had briefly spouted gibberish again after dealing the killing blow. His eyes darted to the crowd. At first, it just looked like they were cheering, but as he watched, three of his patrolling guards were suddenly swept under a tide of civilians. The longer he looked, the clearer it was. His eyes widened. They were rebelling. It started with a brave few but quickly spread as the hesitant grew emboldened.

“Hey Wrinkles,” he said, looking up at the ship looming into view above the arena. “I, uh, have an idea how you can make it up to me for that embarrassing assassination attempt just now.”

“Of course, Grandmaster.”

X

Guards poured into the south corridor, which was the only route the slaves could possibly take to get from the palace to the arena. Topaz had counted over a hundred of them, all armed with spears or blasters. She spread them out as much as she could and set them to cover every access point in groups of no fewer than four. 

“Remember that you’re aiming to incapacitate, not kill,” she called as she marched past them. “The Grandmaster doesn’t want his valuable merchandise damaged. Anyone who puts a slave permanently out of commission may find himself replacing him in the arena. Understood?” 

X

Movement at the edges of Thor’s vision made him look skyward. Ebony Maw’s ship was there, flying low over the arena. It was large and close enough to obscure much of the storm from view.

“Loki,” said Thor. He spun Mjolnir, preparing to take flight. He would smash through that entire ship until he found his brother. However, before he could throw himself into the air, beams of light shot from the ship onto every part of the stands and the arena floor. From those beams, armed Sakaaran soldiers came stalking out. 

The hologram of the Grandmaster filled the open space in the middle of the arena again. “One last little assignment for you soldiers before Wrinkles takes you home with him: remind my lovely citizens who’s in charge here. And bring me the Lord of Thunder.”

More soldiers spilled from the deployment beams every second. All those people Thor had riled up to rebellion wouldn’t stand a chance. He could already hear screams coming from multiple places in the stands. Instead of taking flight, he slammed Mjolnir down, creating a rippling shockwave of earth that threw dozens of the nearest soldiers off their feet. That bought him enough time to target the ship itself with his lightning, aiming at the sources of the deployment beams. He was able to hit eight or nine of them before more soldiers closed in around him, but dozens remained.

Chapter Text

It was hard to be certain on this miserable ship, but Loki didn’t think they’d left the planet yet. There was no explanation for such a delay if everything was going according to Maw’s plans. Being stuck here with no information was almost as bad as the pain and the inability to use seidr. He felt the restless need to do something. Anything. 

All that liquid running through the walls intrigued him. It couldn’t just be there for decoration—not if it was even in the brig. Should something disrupt the flow—a significant quantity of the liquid freezing solid, for instance—perhaps the ship wouldn’t be able to leave Sakaar. At least, not as quickly. Very carefully, not wanting to trigger another bout of dry heaving, he prodded inside himself for that simple knot of seidr that held together his Aes form. He’d had the thought a few times since waking up in this cell that pulling that knot loose would not actually use any seidr. He would be undoing a spell, not casting one.

The idea became more tempting every time, but still, he hesitated, glancing at Brunnhilde. What good would it really do to freeze the contents of the ship’s veins? It wouldn’t change the fact that he was shut up in a doorless room with a Valkyrie who might well try to kill him herself. Even if she didn’t, she would surely be horrified that she’d wasted her kindness on a monster. Why should that bother him so much at a time like this? She would hardly be the first person to mistrust and dislike him. 

Brunnhilde frowned, looking up at the ceiling. “There it is again,” she said. “Is that...?”

He shook himself out of his gloomy thoughts and listened too. A grin stole over his face. “Thunder.” 

Perhaps there was no need for him to reveal his true form after all.

X

The arena had descended into complete chaos, which the Grandmaster had purposely exacerbated by raising the battle floor itself back up until it was level with the lowest row of stands. He was watching the proceedings like it was all a great show, but Maw was waiting for the right moment. He’d sent very specific orders to one of the battalions of Sakaaran soldiers when he called for the ship to come to the arena.  

A volley of blaster fire swept across the glass front of the Grandmaster’s box. Alone, it wouldn’t have been enough to shatter it, but Maw discreetly twisted his fingers, pushing at the points that were struck hard enough to finish the job. Glass flew in every direction. The guards in the box recoiled and shielded their faces, but Maw moved forward. Without the glass to impede it, a beam from the ship fell directly on him. He heard the Grandmaster’s cry of indignation and orders to the guards, but they came too late. He was on his way back to the ship.

X

Thor was doing all he could to keep the worst of the battle from falling on the Sakaaran people. He had already lost count of all the soldiers he had felled, but it was well into triple digits. It wasn’t enough, even when he kept pausing to aim for the deployment beams. 

A new beam appeared, aiming directly for the Grandmaster’s box, and he saw Ebony Maw floating up inside it, his eyes on the ship. He wasn’t even going to fight along side his bought soldiers? Such a display of rank cowardice filled Thor with rage. He bellowed a war cry and changed the target of his lightning. A blinding blue bolt seared through the beam. He had hit his mark, though not directly. Ebony Maw snarled down at him, burns running all down his left side. He made no move to come after Thor, however, and within a few more seconds he had vanished inside the ship. 

Thor wanted nothing but to throw himself into the air after Maw, but he couldn’t abandon the people in the arena to a battle he had brought down on them. The nearest three dozen or so soldiers were the first to feel his frustration when another massive pillar of lightning burst from him.

X

Loki listened to the rolls and peals of the distant thunder harder than he had ever listened to anything in his life. A few tremors had gone through the ship, and he knew he hadn’t imagined those. Lightning strikes. Not enough to bring down such a large craft, but perhaps Thor was aiming for its weapons? At one point, there was a particularly loud thunderclap that must have come from right outside. Whatever Thor was doing out there, as long as it continued, they had a real chance of getting out of this.

Without warning, the cell door melted into existence, revealing Ebony Maw, flanked by six armed and armored soldiers with ash-gray skin and gaping, four-part mandibles in place of mouths. Maw looked livid, and a good portion of his left side was covered in fresh burns that still sizzled and smoked.

“I see the God of Thunder sends his regards,” Loki sneered, delighted.

It wasn’t clear whether Maw had even registered the taunt. “If your own suffering isn’t enough to loosen your tongue,” he said, “then perhaps something else will.” He sounded utterly wild with hatred, no trace of his old calm smugness in his tone. The change was a chilling one and did not bode well. Maw raised his right hand—only his right hand—and chains shot forward, wrapped painfully tightly about Loki’s and Brunnhilde’s hands, and dragged them out of the cell with such force that they fell into the waiting soldiers, four of whom promptly seized them by the upper arms. 

The soldiers themselves weren’t especially intimidating, but Loki wasn’t about to try his luck against the blaster pointed at his face. Brunnhilde offered no resistance either, even though she was in far better condition to fight. 

Loki barely managed to keep his feet under him at the pace they were going, but he was more interested in observing his surroundings. As he’d suspected, the veins in the walls, ceiling, and floor weren’t limited to the cell. They continued everywhere he looked, and they appeared to increase in size as they neared the far end of the corridor, which was more round than square. He couldn’t imagine how this ship had been created or how many corpses of Maw’s kinsmen had gone into it. It was almost like they had been merged together to create a new organism, complete with circulatory system. 

The farther they went, the more it felt like being inside an ancient behemoth, no longer truly alive but perversely forced to continue imitating life through machinery and Maw’s twisted brand of magic. The corridor they were in abruptly opened wide onto a cavernous chamber. They entered it near the top, at a network of catwalks that imitated a spinal column, with wide, sweeping arches stretching around the belly and down to the distant floor. The whole thing was swarming with armed soldiers who jostled amongst each other for access to deployment platforms. Loki noticed that several platforms were dark. Destroyed by Thor’s assault, he hoped. 

Maw led the way to a small outcrop on the nearest catwalk and onto a lift shaped like an oversized chariot, and then they were hurtling across the vast hold at break-neck speeds along the spinal column. The sight of that writhing army below was horrifying. 

The pulsing lights became more intense with every step, until they strained the eyes and washed everything out in alternating blue and orange. Loki’s nausea worsened proportionately with it and a headache throbbed in time with it. Even Brunnhilde was growing pale and sweaty and beginning to sag a little in her captors’ grip. She probably didn’t have much aptitude for using seidr, but regardless of aptitude, seidr was a part of every member of the major races of Yggdrasil, mortals excluded. It wasn’t especially comforting to know that the ship affected them both this way. What would it do to Thor if he came aboard? 

By the time the lift reached the far platform, Loki was straining involuntarily against the soldiers holding him, desperate to get farther away from the source of that grotesque energy. His struggle accomplished nothing except to earn him a few blows to the head from the butts of their blasters. 

X

Topaz’s strategy for subduing and recapturing the escaped fighters was a good one. Or, it would have been, had she not been operating under faulty assumptions. She had assumed that their detour to the hangar had been so they could board a ship and get off-world before anyone could stop them. She had assumed that the revolution was the primary goal of the day. She had no idea that the instigators were much more interested in Ebony Maw, Cull Obsidian, and the army they had purchased than the political situation of Sakaar—or that they had bought a few illicit items with the explosive capability to ground a large ship.

She had also assumed they would only be armed with spears and blasters.

The disorganized mob of sparsely armed fighters she was expecting never came. Just at the point when she was considering sending out a couple teams to scout for the fighters and make sure they were still heading the way she expected, an arrow came flying from somewhere high above any of the entry points she had prepared for and struck one of the guards at the front directly in the eye. Before he could even hit the ground, another arrow found its mark in another eye socket. 

All the guards who saw went into a panic, trying to find the source of the projectiles. Arrows three and four didn’t hit anyone, but they weren’t meant to. They flashed with red lights where they landed, then burst in clouds of thick gray smoke that blocked their view of nearly the entire south corridor, making it impossible to search for the archer. 

Topaz coughed and shouted for order. She never regained it. The next objects to fall on the floor amid more than a hundred guards were small and round. She had a split second to realize what they were, and then they exploded.

X 

The bridge of Maw’s ship was like the interior of an enormous brain. The entire floor pulsed with the brightest light yet, and growing out of it, in place of any of the usual types of control banks or consoles Loki had seen, there were only towering, irregular structures with spindly nodes spreading from them like branches. They interlocked with each other overhead and merged seamlessly into the ceiling and walls. The glowing veins ran through them as well. 

All but one of these neuron-like structures was presently being manned by other members of Ebony Maw’s species. They had each sunk their arms to the elbows into the two lowest nodes of their respective stations. At Maw’s arrival with his two prisoners, they glanced away from their screens and looked around. Loki noticed that their eyes gleamed with what appeared to be starry blue cataracts. They returned to their work with mechanical efficiency, no trace of Maw’s passion to further his master’s will in their movements.

“Why have you brought us here?” said Brunnhilde, lightly shoving the soldier on her right. The one with a blaster trained on her tightened his grip on it. “Aren’t you going to tell us the point of dragging us all the way across the ship?”

Maw’s eyes flashed in their direction. “I would have thought that was clear.” He sunk his undamaged right arm into a node of the unoccupied station. An enormous viewscreen appeared in the open space behind it. It displayed a chaotic battle taking place inside an arena. Loki spotted Thor at once. It looked like he was the only competent warrior on his side of the fighting, though a young Kronan near him certainly seemed to be doing his best. 

“Your father may have defeated my master millennia ago, mage, but the position has changed. You will now bear witness to what happens to those who oppose Thanos.”

X

Thor was now fighting back-to-back with Korg. This younger version of his Kronan friend, while as enthusiastic about revolution as his older self, had clearly seen very few battles before now and was only having so much success against the soldiers because their weapons could do little more than leave scorch marks on solid stone. Thor was still grateful for his help. With Korg at his back, he didn’t need to worry about guarding it, but they were still only two fighters in a sea of soldiers that continued to grow. His left arm was starting to feel stiff from the deep cut Cull had given him and he doubted his lightning would last against the rest of the soldiers who still hadn’t reached the arena.

He was seriously considering flying to the ship—his absence, however brief, would be devastating to the people on the ground, but maybe he could stop the flood of soldiers raining down on them and it would be better in the long run. He hadn’t fully made up his mind when two things happened at almost the same time.

The gates where fighters normally entered the arena exploded outward, and a flood of armored aliens of every description poured out, Barton and Romanoff leading the charge and yelling at the top of their lungs. Across the arena, directly beneath the hovering ship, there was a sudden burst of fiery blue light that stretched across several yards. When it faded, Sif, Fandral, Hogun, and Volstagg were there, standing around the second transporter along with Bruce Banner. 

It took the first four about a second to take in the madness into which they’d arrived and identify the enemy force. They drew their weapons and plunged into the fray, only Hogun remaining to guard the device that brought them there. Banner stood frozen in bewilderment beside him for about two seconds more, until blaster fire struck him on the shoulder. The soldier responsible was crushed by enormous green fists before he could do so much as get off another shot.

With the arrival of such excellent reinforcements on both sides of the field, Thor redoubled his own attacks. He could feel the joy of battle that always came from fighting alongside his friends. Together, they were more than a match for one army of Sakaarans. 

“We expected a battle, but we never thought you’d find us one so quickly!” Volstagg cried merrily, cutting down soldiers left and right with the great battle axe Brandrheid Undrsigr. “Well done, my friend!” 

“Tonight we feast in Asgard or in Valhalla!” Sif shouted, her face full of the same fierce joy now coursing through Thor. 

“Oh, surely Asgard,” said Fandral. “It is a fine battle indeed, but you give our foes too much credit.”

“I see your mortals there,” said Volstagg, nodding towards Barton and Romanoff,  “but where is Loki? Working on some clever scheme somewhere out of sight, is he?” He spoke with perfect confidence, not at all worried; as good as Loki was at getting himself into trouble, he was usually even better at getting back out of it. 

“If only he were,” said Thor. He jerked his head up at the ship. “He has been a prisoner on Maw’s ship for the better part of three days.” Their faces all twisted in alarm. “Now that you’re here, I finally have a path to reach him.”

“Of course!” said Sif. “We will clear your way.”

“Certainly!” said Volstagg. Then, confused, he added, “Three days?”

X

A blinking red circle closed around Prince Thor on the viewscreen and symbols raced across the bottom with readouts of the (short) time the ship’s weapons would take before they could fire. The target could only be Thor; even if Brunnhilde didn’t vaguely remember what he looked like as an adult from her brief glimpse at the bar, no one else would be fighting with that hammer and in that armor. 

Her heart dropped. She had watched Loki stupidly fight against the effects of a drug to protect her, she’d watched him withstand torture twice without losing his sense of humor, and she’d watched him go from fastidiously put together to bedraggled and wan while he tried to wait patiently for his brother to come for him. 

She did not want to watch him watch his brother die, yet she couldn’t see how it would be avoided. They were well and truly trapped, bound by Maw’s telekinetically controlled chains, surrounded by armed soldiers, and aboard a ship that made them sicker the longer they were on it. Why did she have to be sober for this? Being drunk wouldn’t make their situation better, but it would be easier not to care.

It wasn’t until she saw her breath come out in a puff of sparkling condensation that she realized the temperature on the bridge was dropping.

Chapter Text

Brunnhilde glanced around for the source of the sudden chill, and a flash of color in the corner of her eye drew her gaze back to the prince. He glared at Ebony Maw with fists and teeth clenched and murder in his eyes—which had turned blood-red. Then, like ice forming over the surface of a lake, lines appeared, intersected, and deepened in his skin, and royal blue bloomed from them and spread until there wasn’t a trace of fair porcelain left. 

The Sakaaran soldiers didn’t immediately react. Their species was colorblind, so the changes to Loki’s appearance would barely be noticeable to them, but Brunnhilde was gaping at him in utter disbelief. A prince of Asgard...was a Frost Giant? How could that be? 

She watched a layer of ice form and thicken around his hands. Icicles spiked outward from it, driving through the links of the chain binding him. At the same moment the metal shattered, the two soldiers holding his arms let out twin screeches of pain and recoiled. She didn’t need to see their hands to know how badly frostbitten they had become. Ebony Maw and the other four guards all looked around at their yells. 

Maw did a double-take at Loki’s transformation before snapping at the soldiers, “Control him, you worthless fools!” It seemed he needed his hands for his telekinesis, but the left was so badly damaged that he couldn’t even use it to interface with the ship and the right was still elbow-deep in the node of the weapons system. He could either subdue Loki himself or continue locking in his attack against Thor, but not both. 

Loki didn’t fight like any Frost Giant Brunnhilde had ever seen or battled. Frankly, he looked like someone who’d never used ice as a weapon before. The Jotnar she’d fought would be embarrassed if they could see him. He flailed his ice-encrusted hands at the two frostbitten soldiers like clubs, then held them up to shield himself from blaster fire. It sort of worked, but the plasma quickly disintegrated the ice.

She could have stood by and done nothing while one of her princes (or maybe an imposter) fought against time and at least seven-to-one odds to save the other. Whether she was on Sakaar or being carted off to Thanos didn’t particularly matter to her. She was a prisoner either way, and at least with Thanos she had a chance of picking a fight that would put her out of her misery. 

But when the soldier who’d been aiming a blaster at her since they were taken from the cell turned to Loki, she moved without thinking. She wrenched her arms free of the other two soldiers’ grips and raised her shackled hands into the path of the first soldier’s blaster. Instead of hitting Loki, the plasma broke open her chains. Hands free, she rolled backwards to avoid the continuing stream of blaster fire and popped up a half-step behind the guards who’d been holding her, grabbed them around their heads, and smashed their skulls together. Finally, she vaulted their collapsing bodies and kicked the third soldier in the face, catching his blaster on the way to the ground.

Heedless of whether or not any soldiers remained (and two of his three did), Loki had turned his complete focus on Maw. Brunnhilde dealt with the soldiers herself (honestly, what did Maw take them for if he thought six would be enough?), then turned the stolen blaster on the other members of Maw’s species. They all watched the fight with those eerie blue eyes, making no move to interfere. 

“You think altering your form will help you, mage?” Maw hissed, but he was looking awfully sweaty for how cold the room was getting. The counter on the viewscreen showed that it would take the weapons another twenty seconds to fire. 

Frost crackled over the floor with every step Loki took towards Maw. “Yes,” he said simply. He appeared to take an exaggerated breath, and the temperature dropped even more, enough to raise gooseflesh on Brunnhilde’s arms.

“You fool!” said Maw, “This is no victory. You only doom yourself by fighting Thanos! To fight against the Titan is to fight on the side of chaos and desolation!”

Brunnhilde looked back to Loki. He was not impressed by Maw’s words. “A pity your people didn’t see you for the threat you were before it was too late,” he said, baring his teeth. “That was their mistake. Yours was threatening my brother.”

He lunged for Maw’s throat with both hands. Maw’s back arched and a strangled scream came fought its way free. Brunnhilde didn’t understand what was happening at first. She couldn’t see frostbite spreading from the place Loki touched, and he wasn’t freezing solid either. But then, slowly, Maw’s long tunic began bulging out in numerous places. In another second, spikes of glistening, maroonish ice tore through the material—the same color as what had leaked out from the single cut she had managed to give him before he captured them. She noticed that their locations were very deliberate: each blood icicle protruded from a spot where he had used a crystal needle on Loki. 

It didn’t stop there. Loki screamed with rage or pain (or likely both) as icicles burst out of the veins running through Maw’s console. The targeting screen flickered, distorted, and vanished. He didn’t move, and the chill swept along the upper branches and across to where they tangled with those of the other consoles. Strange, resonant cracking sounds filled the air, and icicles punched through their surfaces too. Every viewscreen went dark. The other pilots shouted in surprise and pulled their arms free to escape the encroaching chill. 

Even though Maw had gone as limp as he could while propped up by the console and so much of his own frozen blood and was clearly dead, the frost continued to spread, now sweeping across the ceiling and floor. Loki was still screaming, and his skin had become strangely luminous, his hair floating up as though caught in a wind. Brunnhilde had never seen that happen to a Jotun before, but she was willing to bet it wasn’t a good thing. “Loki!” she shouted. “It’s over! You have to stop!” She moved towards him, casting half a glance at Maw’s kinsmen in case they harbored their own thoughts of revenge. Most were clutching their heads and groaning, but two were hugging each other tightly and weeping. They were not a threat. Loki, however, didn’t seem to have heard her at all.

She was trying to decide whether it was worth the risk of frostbite to attempt to shake him out of it when there was a loud grinding sound and the floor lurched beneath their feet. 

X

All at once, the dozens of remaining deployment beams winked out. A hundred or more soldiers who had been en route to the ground were left to plummet towards it in a deadly free fall. Thor looked up at the ship and saw that it was no longer hovering stationary over the arena. It had begun to fall, the nose tipping down, giving it a slight northward trajectory. The arena floor wasn’t the best place from which to judge its path, but it was high enough up that he didn’t think the rebelling civilians were in danger. The fates of the people aboard, on the other hand, were less certain. 

Trusting in his friends to manage the battle without him, Thor spun Mjolnir and took to the air, flying as fast as he could to reach the ship. He didn’t want to waste any time scouring it for Loki, so, based on the arrivals of his friends from Asgard, he tested a hunch. “Heimdall?” he called, the turbulent air whistling past him. “Can you hear me?”

“Your days have appeared to me as moments, my prince, but I hear you,” came the Gatekeeper’s voice.

“Thank the Norns,” Thor laughed. “Do you see my brother?” 

“It is difficult to be certain that what little I can see of Sakaar is the present moment, but Maw has him on the bridge. It is located at the fore of the uppermost level, above the power core.”

“He won’t have him for long,” Thor growled.

“Be cautious. Prince Loki has not fared well aboard that ship. It is not a hospitable place for any Aes or Jotun to be. I regret that I did not perceive this before you set out on your quest.”

“Your information was invaluable, Heimdall. We could not have known Thanos would buy this army otherwise.”

“Still, I have no desire to inform my king that one of his sons was captured following a path I laid, let alone both.”

“Tell Loki I’m coming for him.”

Landing on the hull was difficult with the ship gathering speed in its descent, but Thor caught hold of one of the fins and swung Mjolnir. The hammer crunched against the black outer material. The texture was unpleasantly reminiscent of a beetle’s carapace. It took three more blows to punch through. A yellowish substance oozed around the hole as Thor worked at widening it. Finally, it was large enough for him to leap inside.

X

Sif watched the ship crash through a box at the top level of the stands with a grinding screech even louder than the thunder of the storm. Rubble rained down on the rows below, but it could have been far worse.

Fandral had paused too, and she knew he shared her concern. Whether or not Loki was an easy person to be friends with, he was their prince and an important part of their lives, and they, like all warriors of Asgard, had sworn to defend him. They could not leave Thor to do it alone. Who knew how many soldiers remained on that ship?

“Go!” cried Volstagg from her left. “Hogun and I and our fine green friend should have no trouble cleaning this up without you.” 

An instant’s survey of the battlefield showed that he was correct. Hogun stood with Hridgandr in the midst of a circle of corpses around the transporter, and Volstagg had cut a swath through a large cluster that tried to gang up on him. Banner had done easily the most damage to the enemy army, clearing half of the arena on his own, undaunted no matter how many blasters fired in his direction. Meanwhile, the rabble of all sorts of aliens led by the mortal spies had largely moved up into the stands to flush more soldiers away from the vulnerable civilians and towards the arena floor. She would not have thought that they would be so eager to join an honest battle, but they were doing a great credit to their realm. Thor’s high opinion of them was plainly well deserved. 

“What’s the quickest way we can get there?” she asked Fandral.

“Perhaps with some assistance,” he said. “Banner!” he shouted jovially, turning to face the rampaging green creature. “Be a good chap and help us up to the ship, won’t you?” He pointed up at it with Fimbuldraugr. 

Sif wasn’t at all sure this was wise. For all that Banner had contributed to the battle, it was difficult to tell whether he recognized friend from foe. There was no time to debate the point, however. Banner changed direction and barrelled towards them, roaring unintelligibly. She resisted the urge to raise her sword and buckler with difficulty and braced herself. Enormous green hands shot out and seized her and Fandral about their waists, and then they were hurtling through the air towards the ship. 

They crested their arc a good fifty feet above it and came down with somewhat jarring force. She was going to give Fandral a great number of bruises in their next bout at the training yard, but it certainly had been faster than climbing to the top of the stadium on foot. 

The ship had done far more damage to the building behind the arena than to the arena itself, and it angled downward into the wreckage. What they could see of it appeared mostly intact, though the bottom half may have been less fortunate. There was no sign of Thor on the outside, so they would just have to make their own way to the princes.

X

Loki couldn’t remember deciding to freeze the entire bridge instead of stopping once the weapons system had shut down. All the heat rushing into him was like an inferno that only fed his rage until he seemed to be made of nothing else. Even when it went from invigorating to agonizing, it didn’t occur to him to stop. 

When he came to his senses, his body was mostly numb, which was an improvement. The glow from the floor was dull enough to be almost tolerable to his Jotun eyes, and it slanted strangely. He lifted his head a little. The entire bridge was askew. How odd. Maw’s lightning-burned, skewered, and frozen corpse was in front of him. It looked like it would’ve toppled over if it hadn’t still been attached to to the weapons console.

“My prince, can you hear me?”

“Heimdall?” Loki mumbled. “I tried...to reach you before.”

“My apologies. The flow of time can be treacherous. Prince Thor wished me to tell you that he’s coming for you.”

Loki giggled feebly, and he could feel tears on his face. “It worked, then.”

“Norns, I thought you were dead.”

Loki turned towards the voice and found Brunnhilde approaching him, a blaster in hand. She wasn’t pointing it at him, though. Behind her, Maw’s kinsmen sat in a huddle on the slanted floor near one of the consoles. The blue was gone from their eyes, which followed Brunnhilde anxiously. They all had long, thin limbs, but one had proportions so gawky that Loki thought he must be an adolescent. Scattered nearby were the corpses of the six soldiers. She must have been the one who killed them. 

“Apparently not,” he said. He watched her warily. “You don’t seem keen to change that.”

“Why would I?” she said, crouching down beside him.

He stared at her. Was she mad? “I’ve deceived you,” he said. Surely that was obvious. “I let you think I was Aes.”

She snorted. “Yeah, and if we’d already shagged, I’d have kicked your ass over it. What’s your point?” 

His cheeks burned at the implications of “already.” “So there are advantages to being rubbish at flirting. Who could have known?”

Her expression was very odd, like she was torn between her curiosity and her desire to maintain a cool veneer of unruffled apathy. Curiosity won. “Does Odin know?” 

“Of course he does,” said Loki. The heat wasn’t leaving his face. On the contrary, it felt like it was spreading and getting worse, and he was starting to think it had nothing to do with embarrassment. “I’m the one who didn’t, until about a fortnight ago.”

She rolled her eyes. “That sounds about right. Can you stand? I’d give you a hand up, but I’d rather keep the skin on it.”

By the Nine, but she was wonderful, even if she was mad to still be here at his side. “I won’t burn you, Brunnhilde.” 

Her brow furrowed. “But…”

He smirked. “Haven’t met many Jotnar outside of a battle, have you?” It was really getting quite bad now. The numbness was being swept aside by that burning heat. It wasn’t the temperature of the ship—the bridge itself was still covered in ice. It was him. He’d forgotten Gerd’s warnings not to push himself too hard. 

Brunnhilde reached for his hand. She was tentative at first, just one fingertip brushing against the side of his thumb. When there proved to be no danger, she slid her fingers through his and held them. Her eyes locked with his. If he was about to experience his first frjosleikr fever, which he strongly suspected he was and which might well kill him, then he wanted to do something very stupid first. Miraculously, he was fairly certain she would let him. He mustered his strength to sit up and close the distance between them.

“Loki! Loki, where are you?”

She jumped and looked around, dropping his hand. Loki swore in a resigned sort of way and fell back to the floor. He loved his brother dearly and in no way regretted what saving his life could cost him (not even a little bit), but sometimes the oaf had the worst timing.

Chapter Text

Unlike Asgardian vessels, Maw’s ship was completely enclosed and had no exterior light. The corridors felt more like underground tunnels than anything, winding and irregular, and the whole place had an oppressive, sickly air to it. Thor felt the effects of battle much more strongly here than he had outside. This must be what Heimdall had meant about it not being a good place for Aesir or Jotnar to be. He was sure he was headed in the right general direction, at least, because he had punched his way through to the topmost level and was moving downhill towards the front of the ship.

“Thor!”

He turned to see Sif and Fandral jogging towards him. Good. The more they had against Maw and his soldiers, the better. They fell into step at either side of him. “Heimdall said Ebony Maw has Loki on the bridge. I think it’s this way, but this ship is so strange.”

“It feels as though there’s a curse upon it,” said Fandral.

“Have you met with any soldiers yet?” said Sif.

“No,” said Thor. “They would have been awaiting deployment in the lower levels, though, so perhaps they didn’t survive the crash.”

“Does the tunnel seem to be getting larger to you?” said Fandral, frowning at the walls. 

Thor looked at them. “No, but those veins in it are.” They let off a dull, steady glow, which was the only lighting Thor had seen in the ship so far. But perhaps they were what carried power through the ship. Which meant the bigger they got, the closer they were getting to the bridge. He picked up the pace. 

X

“You said Loki has been here nearly three days?” said Fandral. In terms of sheer ambiance, he couldn’t remember a place he’d enjoyed being less.

“Yes, Ebony Maw captured him shortly after we arrived, before we even knew we were a target. Heimdall couldn’t see clearly enough to say what he has suffered on this ship, but Maw is one of Thanos’s top experts in torture.” 

Fandral exchanged an outraged look with Sif. Thor had explained something of the threat Thanos posed to them on Asgard, and all Aesir youth were taught of the war in which Odin had forced the Titan to permanently retreat beyond Yggdrasil’s borders, but a prince they had spent their entire lives with being captured and tortured by Thanos’s man made it far more personal. 

Sif’s glower turned to a puzzled frown. “Is it...getting colder?”

Thor immediately straightened like a hound catching a scent and broke into a run. “Loki! Loki, where are you?” he called.

Fandral and Sif ran after him. Fandral didn’t know why colder air would make Thor so sure they were getting close, and he also didn’t know that it was wise to announce their location in this way, but he would fight whatever foes they found regardless. 

The temperature continued to drop until they could see their breath on the air. They rounded a corner and all nearly slipped on the slanted, frozen floor as they came upon a vast room like none Fandral had ever seen. Dull light from below illuminated a network of tree-like structures that were ruptured in numerous places by large, multicolored icicles. 

Thor ignored the bizarre sight entirely, giving a shout and dashing forward. Fandral looked where he was running and saw something that made no sense. At the center of the room were three people. One was a gray-skinned alien who appeared to have been fatally impaled from the inside by over a dozen maroon daggers. One was a dark-skinned woman a few inches shorter than Sif, dressed in plain black leathers. The third, whom she was helping to his feet, was a Frost Giant. How had he gotten here, so far away from Jotunheim, and what was he doing wearing Loki’s armor? ...Or with loose-curling black hair that came to his chin, like Loki had?

Fandral’s hand went to Fimbuldraugr’s hilt. Thor was unlikely to need help in this fight, but if one Jotun could freeze this entire chamber alone, he could be more dangerous than he looked. And yet, when Thor reached him, he made no move to call Mjolnir to his hand. Instead, he threw his arms around the Frost Giant in what was unmistakably one of his bear-like hugs, momentarily lifting him off his feet. Fandral stared in astonishment. It was one thing to talk of an alliance with Jotunheim, surely, and another thing to embrace one of those creatures like a dear friend. 

The Frost Giant protested the hug even as he returned the gesture, and he did so in a very familiar voice. Fandral’s stomach began to sink.

“Two days of torture, and now you subject me to this?”  

“I was so afraid you would be in Thanos’s clutches before I could stop it,” said Thor, squeezing tighter. “But now I have slain Cull Obsidian and you Ebony Maw. Well done, Brother.”

“Brother,” Fandral repeated.

“Wha—Loki?!” said Sif, astonished. 

“Oh, right,” said Thor. Seemingly unwilling to let go of Loki, he kept one hand at the back of his neck and the other at his shoulder as he turned to face them. “Loki’s adopted.”

X

Loki was having a hard time focusing on his surroundings now. It was like peering through a heat haze. The heat flooding through the rest of him was getting particularly nasty at all the spots where Maw had used his needles, and an odd pressure was building beneath his skin. Under any other circumstances, he would have cared a lot more that his two oldest friends on Asgard had just found out about his true heritage by accident, but it was hard enough work staying coherent and bearing his ailments with dignity, and he simply didn’t have the energy to spare. 

“What did Maw do to you?” said Thor, holding Loki at arm’s length. He sounded relieved, proud, and worried all at once. “You look terrible.”

Thor’s face swam before him, but Loki could make out the blue lines painted on it. While they were smeared here and there and marred with blood on one cheek, the intended pattern was clear. “You’re one to talk,” he muttered. Was it the fever making his voice sound so hoarse all of a sudden or was it something else?  “What’ve you done to your face?”

“What’s wrong with my face?”

Loki raised his eyebrows and dragged his gaze pointedly around the blue lines. Sif and Fandral had drifted closer. They looked confused and uncomfortable. He ignored them.

“Oh, this?” said Thor, wiping his temple. Some of the paint came off onto his fingertips. “I needed a disguise, and this was the first thing I thought of.”

Thor noticed Brunnhilde standing near him, and he beamed at her. “Hello,” he said. He let go of Loki, who barely managed not to topple over, and reached for the buckle of a bandolier. “I borrowed this during the battle.” He slid it free and held it out to her. On it was the sword Loki had barely stopped Maw from killing her with. She took it, frowning. 

“Also my friends and I have been using your quarters as our hideout ever since you were captured,” Thor added.

“You what?” 

“Is that a Dragonfang?!” said Sif, staring at the sword. Then she looked at the Valkyrie. The shock of Loki’s heritage was clearly nothing to what she had just realized. Loki was a little worried Sif might actually burst from excitement. If he and Thor had grown up hero-worshipping the Valkyrior, they’d been nothing compared to Sif. She had carried around a toy winged horse everywhere as a little girl, dressed up her dolls in armor and used them to play out imaginary battles, hung the walls of her chambers with tapestries depicting all the Valkyrior’s greatest victories, had often been caught concealing books about them inside the books they’d been assigned by their tutors, visited their memorialized Eyries roughly once a year, lamented with tiresome frequency that the corps hadn’t been reformed, and taught herself as much as she could of their fighting style from archived battle records. “By the Norns, you’re...you’re Commander Brunnhilde Sigursdottir of the Second Wing!”

“Wait, you’re that Valkyrie?” Thor blurted. His total shock amused Loki. Apparently however much time he’d spent with her the first time around hadn’t been enough for him to learn that she was one of the most legendary leaders of the already legendary force. 

Their surprise was enough to catch Fandral’s attention too. He gave Brunnhilde the sort of look that had marked the beginning of the end of more than one of Loki’s rare infatuations.

“I’m not the commander of anything anymore,” said Brunnhilde, looking at the three of them like they were irritating children. (Well, considering their comparative ages, that was fairly accurate.)

X

While Sif struggled to maintain her dignity in the presence of one of her greatest lifelong sources of inspiration and said source of inspiration scowled and muttered that she needed a drink, Thor’s attention turned to the huddle of aliens by one of the consoles. “Who are they?”

“The other pilots,” said Loki. “I don’t believe they were helping Maw willingly.”

“Of course we weren’t!” said the youngest-looking of them. One of the older ones put a hand on his shoulder, clearly unsure they should be drawing attention to themselves.

“Maw brought Thanos to their planet,” said Loki. “He sought him out.”

“What?!” said Thor, outraged. He thought of the destruction of the refugee ship. He couldn’t even imagine deliberately bringing that down upon his own people. He turned to face the bedraggled little group. “Any enemy of Thanos is a friend of Asgard. You are welcome to come with us if you have nowhere else to go.”

“You think you can fight Thanos?” said one of them in a hushed voice. “Are you insane?”

“I just defeated Cull Obsidian in single combat, and my brother defeated Ebony Maw even after days of torture and privation. I think we can end Thanos,” said Thor. “And the more people who stand with us against him, the easier it will be.”

The adolescent shot to his feet. One by one, the rest joined him. They still looked afraid, but their jaws were set. The eldest of them stepped forward. “I am Neris,” he said. He pointed around at the others. “These are Tidra, Osri, Salke, Rijal, and Halu. I do not know if you can do what you say, but I will help if I can.”

Thor gave him a grave, approving nod. “Let’s go, then.”

They had barely gone five paces when Loki swayed on his feet. Thor rushed back to his side. The Valkyrie—Brunnhilde—did the same on his other side, and they caught him before he could hit the floor. Loki sagged against their supporting arms, his head down and his chest heaving. 

“Loki!” said Thor. “What’s wrong?”

“Frjosleikr fever,” Loki grunted. “I was reckless.”

A wave of dread crashed over Thor. “But Gerd said those—!”

“Yes, and now I know why,” said Loki. His voice was getting shriller. He groaned and convulsed. Thor looked at his brother’s face and saw that something odd was happening to the ancestral lines in it. They had taken on a silvery texture. After staring at them in confusion for a moment, he realized that the silver substance was thin trails of steam drifting up from under Loki’s skin. He wasn’t the only one who noticed.

“Loki...why is your face boiling?” said Brunnhilde.

“It’s not just my face,” said Loki, gritting his teeth. “Allfathers,” he whimpered, “I think I’m dying.” Loki was not the sort to exaggerate his condition—in fact, growing up, he’d had a bad habit of using illusions to make himself look perfectly healthy until, like now, he was at the point of physical collapse.

“The Hel you are!” said Thor. “Come on!” They tripled their pace. Thor remained on watch for any sign of Sakaaran soldiers, as did Sif and Fandral, but they met no one all the way back to the hole he’d made in the hull. 

X

Korg looked over the arena, very pleased with the revolution’s beginning. His strange new friends had gotten the people on board, overwhelmed the army of soldiers until they surrendered, and even dropped a giant spaceship on the Grandmaster’s box and palace. Now the fighters were rounding up the surviving soldiers and grouping them together, anyone with medical knowledge was roving around tending to wounds, and the overall atmosphere was one of nervous excitement and possibility. They’d been a little worried about the big green angry guy at first, but a minute or so after the soldiers surrendered, he’d turned into a much smaller pink guy who just looked really harmless and confused. That made sense, considering that he couldn’t understand anything anyone but Thor’s friends said to him. 

Thor reappeared at the top of the arena at the tail end of the crashed ship after about a half an hour. One or two at a time, he used his magic flying hammer to bring the people with him—several raggedy people who looked like that Wrinkles guy and a black-haired man who looked like a blue popsicle that had been dropped on hot pavement—back down to the arena floor. A particularly notorious scrapper who was somehow also in the group and Thor’s two armored friends simply jumped down on their own.

Korg waved and went to join Thor, since it would be rude to make him carry the blue popsicle man across the arena to him. (For some reason, the two guys in armor who had stayed in the arena seemed very surprised and upset by the sight of the blue popsicle man.) “Hey, Thor,” said Korg. “Thanks for all the help.”

“I’m glad we could rid Sakaar of its tyrant, but my brother is ill and we must return to Asgard immediately,” said Thor. “Will you be alright here? Our transporters don’t have room to bring everyone, but perhaps you could come by ship or we could come back for you.”

“You’re very generous,” said Korg apologetically, “but from what you’ve said, it sounds like this Asgard place is a hereditary monarchy, and becoming royal subjects who probably have fewer rights than native citizens would be more of a lateral move than a positive one. Sure, things might be tough on Sakaar for a while. There’ll be a power vacuum without the Grandmaster in charge, but with quick enough action, we can get a working anarcho-syndicalist commune together, grounded in the shared experience of our past oppression and our victory here. It might need a few tweaks as we get settled in, but I’m confident we can give it a good go, at least.”

“As long as you’re sure,” said Thor. It could be hard to read the expressions of fleshy people sometimes, but Korg suspected he was trying not to laugh at him. He didn’t mind. It’d be a waste of breath to try and explain the problems with monarchies to a prince, anyway. Hopefully all of Thor’s descendents would defy probability and be lovely, competent people, and their citizens would never have to live under an imperialist despot.

X

It looked like Brunnhilde was going to remain stuck on Sakaar. Thor was acting like it was a given that she would leave with them. She hadn’t bothered to correct him. Any deliberate attempt she made to leave this planet would have consequences. Whether the Grandmaster was in power or not, it didn’t matter. A little thing like a ship falling on top of him would only be a brief inconvenience. He’d get out eventually, and he’d look for her. 

But she could at least make sure Loki made it onto their transport alright. She ought to give Thor a good hard smack around the head with the pommel of her sword for showing up ten seconds too early, not to mention making himself at home at her flat. 

Where was their transport, anyway?

X

Natasha had never been in a full-blown battle before, but this one seemed to have gone pretty well. They had achieved their original objectives of taking out Thanos’s lieutenants and their army, and they’d also pulled off a one-day revolution to unseat a global dictator, rescued Loki (who was apparently an entirely different species from Thor, a fact that seemed to be making Thor’s other friends very uncomfortable), and acquired several valuable intelligence assets for future campaigns against Thanos. And she and Clint would bring back quite a haul of alien technology for Fitzsimmons to play with over in R&D, assuming they could keep it out of Hydra’s hands. Not bad for three days’ work.

“Right, Korg says Sakaar will be fine,” said Thor. “We shouldn’t waste any more time. Loki?”

Loki gritted his teeth and flailed one blue, lined hand. There was a green-gold glimmer and the transporter materialized. Between the two of them, they had enough handles to take fourteen back to Asgard. Thor, Hogun, Volstagg, and four of the aliens like Maw gathered around one, while Natasha, Clint, Dr. Banner, Fandral, Sif, Loki, and the Valkyrie surrounded the other. The two remaining aliens had volunteered to stay on Sakaar. They wanted to take Maw’s ship apart and properly honor those whose bodies had been used to make it.

Sif took it upon herself to set the dials to bring them back to the palace on Asgard. The Valkyrie paid her and the device no attention. She was still holding Loki on his feet, but her eyes had found Natasha. “You’re one of the mortals running around with the princes,” she said, looking Natasha over with a distinctly appreciative eye. “Staying at my place and wearing my armor? I don’t usually let a girl get away with either of those things before she’s at least bought me a few drinks, let alone both.”

Natasha heard Clint cough next to her. She smirked without acknowledging him. It looked like Loki’s competitive field might be a little broader than she’d thought. “Yeah, sorry...crashing at your place was Thor’s idea.”

“How did he know where it was?”

“That’s a long story.”

“And the armor?”

“I used it to get into the palace to blow up the mainframe.”

“Not bad.”

“Alright, is everyone ready?” Thor called from his group around the other transporter. 

“We’re ready,” said Clint.

“Ready for what?” said the Valkyrie. 

Natasha’s gaze was caught by a movement on the other side of the transporter. She thought she’d seen Fandral move his hand towards the rings that set the destination, but by the time she was looking properly, he was merely clutching the handle. 

Loki heaved and slapped the Valkyrie’s hand onto a handle before seizing one himself. 

“Now!” Thor shouted. They all turned their handles, a gold field shot out to blanket them, and Sakaar spun out from under their feet. 

When new surroundings materialized a moment later (complete with blessedly clean-smelling air), there was no sign of the other transporter and they were not inside the palace. It was definitely still Asgard, but they were standing in the middle of a bustling square.

Several people shouted in alarm and a horse about to walk where they had appeared gave a shrill whinny and reared onto its hind legs.

The Valkyrie dropped the handle like it had burned her and stared around in horror. “No, no, no,” she said. “What did you do?” But her reaction was soon drowned by screams and cries of alarm from the Asgardian people.

“Frost Giant!”

“How did it get here?”

“There’s a Frost Giant on Asgard!”

Chapter Text

Barely an hour after Sif, the Warriors Three, and Dr. Banner vanished from the lab, there was another, larger blaze of blue light, and Thor, Hogun, Volstagg, and four gray-skinned, noseless aliens in ragged clothing materialized around one of the transporters. Jane and Erik, who’d been intently studying the tracking device, jumped and almost fell over.

“Hey guys,” said Darcy, looking up from an illuminated book on the history of the nine realms. There wasn’t a lot she could do as Jane’s intern in a place like this, so she’d been spending most of her time (particularly when Fandral wasn’t available to show her around Asgard and make out with her behind pillars) reading about alien history and politics. She was pretty confident she’d be able to persuade her advisor that she deserved a lot more than six credits for this gig. Her professors would kill to get their hands on these books. 

“That was fast,” said Jane, before wrinkling her nose. “Why do you smell like dumpster?”

“Sakaar is covered in garbage,” said Thor. 

“Aye, I should go wash or I won’t be able to stomach my supper,” said Volstagg, looking down at himself. “Assuming Hildegund even lets me back in the house.” With that, he left the room.

“So everything worked?” said Erik.

“It did,” said Thor. He looked around, frowning. “Where’s the other transporter? We activated them at the same time.”

“Both of the signals left Sakaar,” said Jane. She twisted one of the knobs on the tracker, and a small hologram of Asgard shimmered into view above it. One blue light blinked inside the eastern wing of Gladsheim, where they were, but the other was a few miles to the south, in the middle of a major market square Darcy recognized from one of Fandral’s tours. 

“How did they end up all the way over there?” said Erik.

Thor didn’t seem interested in the answer to that question. He growled something in a language Darcy didn’t recognize and said, “Hogun, go alert Lady Eir that Loki needs her. And get my parents if you can, and Lady Gerd.” 

“Of course,” said Hogun, but Thor was already dashing for the open balcony and throwing himself over the edge, Myuh-myuh raised high. Hogun ran out the other direction, leaving Darcy, Jane, and Erik alone with the four aliens.

The two groups stared at each other for a few seconds.

“’Sup?” said Darcy.

X

The two weeks Bruce had spent on Asgard had been some of the most relaxing and interesting of his life. Everything around him was a stunning feat of architecture or craftsmanship, incorporating technology he had never imagined and magic he had never believed possible. The resources at his fingertips here were incredible, and he didn’t have to work alone or hide himself away. So far, he’d gotten to know just about everyone who worked in the palace library, the team of royal tailors and armorers (all of whom had been very excited by the opportunity to design clothing for someone who could change size so dramatically, and who would be happy to know that their efforts were not wasted), and several of the palace servants. 

His only complaint was a minor one: the Asgardians were so unafraid and unwary of the Other Guy that he actually had to fend off multiple enthusiastic invitations to spar at the training grounds on a daily basis. He understood that they were game for a challenge, and he was intrigued by the idea of the Hulk in a friendly sparring match, but he’d rather they let him come to them when he was ready to risk it. His overall impression of these people was that they were cheerful, helpful, and welcoming. He didn’t know if they were that way with everyone or if guests of the royal family were given special treatment, but they were so earnest that he suspected it was the former. 

The way they reacted to the sight of Loki, therefore, came as a surprise. After a few initial screams and shouts and a scramble to get farther away, a hush fell over the square, and everyone was staring at the prince. Maybe the outright panic had stopped because of how visibly sick and injured he was. He obviously wasn’t going to lunge at anyone and attack. Bruce wouldn’t pretend he hadn’t been shocked when he first saw Loki’s blue skin and ruby-red eyes on Sakaar, but in that coliseum full of so many different species, he was hardly the strangest sight there. Apparently that wasn’t the case on Asgard.

Bruce exchanged worried looks with the two SHIELD agents, the only other humans in the square. He looked at Thor’s friends. Fandral was avoiding meeting anyone’s gaze, and Sif was the opposite, looking from Loki to various members of the crowd and back. She looked like she was undergoing an intense inner struggle. The final member of their party, the black woman in leather armor, was still the only thing keeping Loki from collapsing to the ground, but that seemed more automatic than anything, because her eyes were unfocused and she was extremely tense. Bruce wasn’t sure she’d even noticed what was happening with the people around them. 

X

Whispers began to rustle through the square, and they quickly grew loud enough for Sif to hear.

“Was there a battle?”

“Is this about what happened at the coronation?”

“Did they try another attack?”

“They may be monsters, but surely they aren’t that foolish.”

One young woman who stood partially concealed by her father’s broad torso piped up, “Lady Sif, is the Frost Giant your prisoner?”

Sif could feel the weight of every eye in the square upon her as she stared at the girl, then at Loki. The sight of him was so familiar, yet so terribly strange. She thought of the stories she’d grown up on. The stories of the war, of what the Jotnar had done to the defenseless mortals, of their dark, inhospitable world, of their fearsome scarlet eyes, frozen skin, and towering height. To think that she’d been training and fighting alongside one of them since childhood—that she’d trusted him with her and her friends’ lives. With Thor’s life.

...But Thor knew. Thor knew that Loki was one of them, and he counted him no less his brother for it. He had run to embrace him despite his Jotun form. He had praised him for using his powers over ice to destroy one of their enemies. He had eagerly brought Loki with him to Midgard and Sakaar, treasuring his counsel and help over anyone else’s, and Loki had gone to such extremes in proving Thor right in doing so as to put his own life in danger. 

Thor loved Loki, Jotun or not.

Well. That made things very simple.

Sif moved to Loki’s side. The commander still supported him on his left, so Sif drew his limp right arm over her shoulders, suppressing an instinctive flinch when she initially made contact with his skin. “He is no prisoner,” she said loudly. “He is our prince. He and his brother have just returned victorious from a dangerous mission for Asgard and he is unwell. We must get him to Lady Eir’s healing room.”

The crowd reacted with more murmurs, shock, and confusion. Maybe even a little anger. However, Sif’s words (and the additional support for Loki’s weight) seemed to pierce through the commander’s preoccupation. “Oy!” she barked. “You heard her. Clear out of the way and someone send for a skiff!”

It was the first time the people in the crowd had a reason to pay attention to her in particular, and within seconds, Sif could hear at least three voices hissing, “Is that a Dragonfang? Is she a Valkyrie?” This new, exciting possibility helped to break the tension. The people made way for Sif and the commander to carry Loki in the direction of the palace, though they pressed close and craned their necks for a good view of both the Frost Giant and the possible Valkyrie. Fandral picked up the transporter and followed, and the three mortals brought up the rear. 

At such close quarters, Loki’s suffering was plain. He winced or groaned feebly at every movement that jarred him and seemed blind and deaf to all that went on around him. His feet trailed on the ground, with him only able to make the most cursory of gestures towards taking his own steps. And all the while, those trails of steam continued to trickle from the markings in his skin—skin that was warm enough to the touch to be worrying for one of the Aesir, let alone a Jotun. 

Witnessing him in this state was more distressing than Sif would have expected. Loki should be supplying witty, biting commentary to everything being said or talking circles around them all or finding someone to play one of his tricks on whether they deserved it or not. For him to be rendered so silent and helpless was like the sun suddenly changing its course and moving backwards across the sky. But Eir would sort him out. Yes. He’d be back to his usual infuriating self in no time.

Loki didn’t have to wait for a skiff. They had just gained the upper street when a moving shape appeared above the rooftops in the distance. A few seconds later, Thor dropped down on the cobblestones in front of them. “What went wrong?” he asked, while reaching for his brother. “Our transporter took us straight to the palace. Why did yours bring you here?”

“I don’t know,” said Sif. “I set the destination to Gladsheim.”

“I can take a look at it,” said Banner. “It might just need to be recalibrated after each long trip.”

“Thank you,” said Thor, and he flew off with Loki at top speed.

The skiff arrived shortly thereafter, and they all climbed in. “To the palace, with haste,” Sif told the youthful helmsman. 

“Aye, my lady,” he said.

“Do you think Loki’s going to be okay?” said Barton, taking a seat between Romanoff and Banner. “He looked pretty bad.”

“Eir is the finest healer in Yggdrasil,” said Fandral. “If anyone can help him, she can.”

Sif turned to the Valkyrie. “Commander, you were with him on that ship, weren’t you? You know what they did to him.”

“I already told you, I’m no commander,” she said, scowling. She turned her back firmly to them, facing the approaching palace with arms folded. “Look, if what I know will help, I’ll talk to the healers. But I’m not some long lost heroine of Asgard, so don’t treat me like one.”

Sif wanted to protest. Brunnhilde Sigursdottir was absolutely a heroine of Asgard! A Valkyrie returned to them after a thousand years? It was cause for celebration on a grand scale! Sif had so many questions for her, and she was desperate to see her in battle. Her imagination ran wild. She could picture herself training under Brunnhilde and, if she could prove herself worthy of it, becoming the first in a new generation of Valkyrior. It was what she’d wished for as long as she could remember, only now there was an actual, living Valkyrie standing before her. What had once been nothing but wistful fancy was now possible, and she would give anything she owned to make it reality. 

“What kept you hidden away on a place like Sakaar, my lady?” said Fandral.

“That’s my business,” she said, and Sif had never heard a woman (besides maybe herself) be so curt with Fandral the Dashing. “And I’m even less a lady than a commander. Find a different tree to bark up.”

Romanoff erupted in a brief coughing fit, and Sif had to hide a smile of her own at Fandral’s flabbergasted expression.

X

Thor flew into the healing room directly through one of its high, vaulted windows. Hogun had been good to his word, as always. Eir, Frigga, and Gerd, as well as several of Eir’s apprentice healers, were rushing about in preparation for the patient’s arrival. 

Frigga was the first to spot them. “Oh, Loki!” she cried, dropping an armful of linens onto a table and running to them. She lifted Loki’s face in her hands. “What happened to him? Hogun could not give us details, and neither could Heimdall.”

“They saw us coming,” said Thor, guilt and shame gnawing at him. “I rushed us in without a real plan and gave Ebony Maw the perfect window to capture him.” They followed Eir’s gestures towards a large copper basin full of ice water, besides which Gerd stood in her Ljosalfr disguise. “I did all I could to get him back safely, but Maw had him for days, and he tortured him. Loki was able to fight back in the end. He thinks that’s what caused this fever.”

Eir waved a hand over Loki, vanishing his armor in a flash of red-gold seidr and leaving him in nothing but his smallclothes. His body was covered in evenly spaced circular bruises that turned his blue skin a much darker, more purplish color. The markings on his face and hands continued all the way up his arms, across his torso, and down his legs, and the steam was coming out there too. 

“Into the basin with him, quickly,” said Gerd. Thor helped his mother lower Loki into the water. Loki’s eyes shot open when he hit the surface and he let out a gasp. Thor and Frigga both called out his name automatically, but he didn’t respond. He went limp again as he sank up to his chin in the water, and his eyes rolled back.  

“Where is Father?” said Thor, still watching Loki.

“He was in the middle of a Council meeting,” said Frigga. “I don’t know when he’ll be able to get away.”

“Why is all that steam coming out of him?”

“He overloaded his system with heat,” said Gerd. “His body is designed to draw it in, hold it, and use it—not let it back out. It’s trying to do that now, but he’s essentially being cooked from the inside.” 

Frigga made a sound like a sob, covering her mouth with one hand and running the fingers of the other through Loki’s disheveled hair. 

“We need to get his temperature back down as quickly as possible, and then we can assess how much healing he’ll have to do,” Gerd went on. “The saltwater ice bath will help, and he should only eat frozen things and rehydrate with solid ice until he’s out of danger. Did you see what he was using his frjosleikr on?”

“The bridge of a large spaceship, it looked like,” said Thor. “He brought the whole thing out of the sky.”

Gerd’s mouth fell open.

“How much danger is he in?” said Frigga, tears now shining in her eyes.

“I-it’s hard to say, your majesty.” Gerd looked pale, even by Alfar standards. “I’ve seen it go either way from this stage, and permanent damage is a possibility.”

The door to the healing room flew open. They all looked around. Odin stood framed in the doorway, and he was holding the Casket of Ancient Winters in his hands. “Will this help?”

Chapter Text

The past fortnight had brought many surprises and given Gerd much to consider. In the decades that followed the Aesir-Jotnar war, the people of Alfheim had waited nervously, wondering if the thousands of refugee skamrborn they had helped escape persecution on Jotunheim and welcomed into their homes and families would make them a target of Asgard’s desire for vengeance. The towering, faceless Jotun soldiers who dragged Gerd from her adoptive parents’ home in her childhood nightmares were replaced in her early adolescence by gold-armored Einherjar. 

When nothing ever happened and Asgard had remained Alfheim’s ally, the terrifying visions gradually faded, but their specter had continued to hover over her. They had made her and Freyr’s courtship somewhat difficult in the beginning, for even though he was one of the Vanir, he was in the extended family of Asgard’s queen. Gerd had humored him for the first year or so, but his sweet charm and sunny demeanor were increasingly difficult to resist. She knew she was in very great danger of falling in love with him, so she tried to frighten him away with the truth of her species. 

She’d told him what she was, and he had defied all her expectations by claiming not to care and trying to kiss her. Unable to accept it, she flung her shapeshifting pendant in his face, giving him a good look at the real Gerd, then jumped on her horse and fled. 

She hadn’t gotten as far as the edge of her parents’ land before he caught up to her. With a gentleness she would never forget, he wiped away her tears and made her a promise.

“My lady, whether you be Gerd of Alfheim or of Jotunheim, my heart is yours now and forever. If Yggdrasil is truly not safe for us, I will forsake my lands and title and take you somewhere you can wear your own skin freely.” Then he tilted his head and smiled that big, earnest smile that made his nose scrunch up like a schoolboy’s. “I hear good things about the Nova Empire.”

She still couldn’t fathom what she had done to deserve such a good man, but she had known right then that she would never let him go. They were wed before the end of the month, and he hadn’t given her the smallest reason to doubt him in centuries of marriage. 

They had not needed to flee Yggdrasil. Vanaheim proved surprisingly tolerant. She wore her pendant whenever she wasn’t at home as a precaution, but the people living under Freyr’s charge had welcomed her and the improved trade access with Alfheim that she brought them. Freyr made sure she was able to visit her parents regularly, and they had gone on multiple trips to faraway realms where nobody knew or cared about the reputation of Jotunheim. 

As happy as she was with Freyr, Gerd had worried about what life would be like for any children they had. Marriages between Ljosalfar and Jotnar were common enough that their offspring cheekily styled themselves the Frjosalfar or ice elves, but as far as she knew, mixing Vanr and Jotun blood had never been done before. Miraculously, Fjolnir’s childhood had been blissfully free of worries about prejudice and the whims of more powerful realms. Some of that was, no doubt, a consequence of his having inherited Freyr’s irresistibly cheerful disposition. He had his Vanir friends on Vanaheim and Ljosalfar, Jotnar, and Frjosalfar friends on Alfheim. He saw the whole thing as a great game, wearing his pendant outside their manor, having a secret that only his family knew. She dreaded the day it stopped being fun for him.

When Odin’s invitation came and included Gerd and Fjolnir, Freyr had been reluctant. Asgard was one place he had never taken her, and certainly not their son. However, Gerd had thought it best to obey quickly so that they could leave quickly. Between Asgard’s Gatekeeper and the throne Hlidskjalf, Odin was able to see much more than the other realms liked, but there had been no indication so far that he was aware of her origins. 

That first morning in the royal breakfast room, when Loki asked her about Jotunheim, she’d thought all her old nightmares were about to come true, and that she and Fjolnir would soon be locked in the dungeons, perhaps to be used as symbols for a campaign against Alfheim. Instead, she was let into a bewildering secret: of all people, Odin Borson had adopted a skamrbarn child, just like her parents had. Not only were she and Fjolnir safe on Asgard, they had the privilege of giving the second prince instruction on his Jotun nature and abilities. It was extraordinary, and it hadn’t occurred to her for a second to refuse (even if there may have been a certain amount of bitterness in the way she had designed her instruction). 

The time she’d spent with Loki and his family had left her with a far pleasanter view of the four most powerful people in the realms, yet even after weeks of this, she still would never have imagined that she would witness the Allfather bringing out his terrible weregild from the war to treat a frjosleikr fever. Loki was too far gone to recognize any of them or move on his own, so to keep his hands wrapped around the handles of the Casket, Odin and Frigga had to crouch on either side of the copper basin hold his fingers in place. 

The power of the Casket was palpable even before it made contact with his skin. Its icy blue light radiated a sense of rightness, of home so strong that Gerd wanted to weep. Images of her birth parents swirled in her mind’s eye, their large, kind faces coming into far sharper focus than she’d been able to picture for a long time. The room grew refreshingly cold, and she felt the magic holding her Ljosalfr form together weakening. She fought the impulse to throw her pendant aside and soak it in. There were too many unfamiliar Aesir eyes here.

X

The day the most powerful military force in the galaxy discovered one of its princes had secretly been adopted from an enemy world was an exciting day for Earth to send two of its best spies to the interplanetary stage. Between Sakaar and the politics of Asgard, Natasha’s report for this mission was going to be her longest by far. 

Their flying boat took a few minutes to reach the palace. The young man steering it brought it up next to the final set of steps leading to the high golden doors. Fandral gallantly offered a hand to Natasha to help her disembark. She accepted with a smile. She knew exactly who her target would be if she ever needed more information than Asgard was willing to share openly. Based on his come-on to the Valkyrie and the way he interacted with Dr. Foster’s intern, he would be an almost insultingly easy mark. Thor’s attitude and his heartfelt trust in herself and Clint might mean she’d never have to go there, but it was a good redundancy.

 Sif led the way inside, the Valkyrie following with obvious reluctance.

“Shall we go to the laboratory?” said Fandral, addressing Dr. Banner and tapping the transporter with a finger.

“That can wait, can’t it?” said Dr. Banner a little uncertainly. “Shouldn’t we go see how Loki’s doing first?”

“Yes, of course,” said Sif. “Don’t you want to come and wish Loki well?”

“You know what Eir is like,” said Fandral. His tone was casual but his posture was stiff. “If we bring too much extra traffic into her healing hall, she’ll toss us out on our ears hard enough that we’ll have to go right back in for treatment.” 

“Then we will simply do our best not to be underfoot,” said Sif. “Eir should hear the comm—er, Brunnhilde’s account of what happened to him as soon as possible, in any case.” She was clearly uncomfortable addressing the other woman by anything less than her military title. 

They didn’t go up the sweeping staircases that curved high into a double helix above them, but instead stepped onto a circular platform that sat between the bottom stairs. It was about fifteen meters across and had a thin, raised pedestal in the center. Sif poked at something on this pedestal, and a golden net made of the same patterns in the burn marks left by the Bifrost and the protective barrier that enclosed them when they used the transporters shot up around the edges of the platform, fading out at a point about three times their height. The platform began to move upward. So Asgard did have elevators. That was a relief, considering the size of the palace.

Clint stretched out a hand and carefully touched one finger to the golden barrier. It flared a little brighter and remained inflexible, but did nothing to him.

“Okay so what’s the deal with Loki?” said Dr. Banner, who must already be used to this kind of technology after the time he’d spent here. “Why were all those people out there freaking out about him? What’s a Frost Giant? Aren’t you guys used to seeing all kinds of aliens?”

Fandral looked at him in surprise. “Do your people not remember?” he said. “It was barely over a thousand years ago that the Jotnar invaded your realm.”

“Whoa, what?” said Clint, tearing his gaze away from the landings they were passing and the glimpses they were getting of the different levels. “Earth was invaded by an alien species?”

“Yes, the Frost Giants opened portals to your subarctic region.” said Sif. “Their bid to conquer the realm was brief and ill-fated. This all happened before Fandral or I were born, but you should hear the veterans of the war talk about what the Jotnar did to the mortals in their path before Asgard could intervene.” 

She shot a glance at Brunnhilde, as though hopeful she would launch into one of her own war stories. Brunnhilde, however, showed no interest in the conversation at all. She was watching floor after floor of fabulous architecture pass them by as though the sight of it all made her ill. Natasha got the feeling that Thor and Loki maybe should have asked her if she wanted to come back to Asgard before bringing her along.

“Odin led the charge of the Einherjar and Valkyrior,” Sif continued. The platform slowed after about the seventh level and came to a halt at another landing. The golden field parted in front of it, and they stepped off into a long, vaulted corridor with more pillars and intricate gold knotwork in the smooth black floor. “They forced the Jotnar back to Jotunheim within the first two years, but once the battle was on the Jotnar’s frozen turf it became much more treacherous, and the war continued another thirty-nine years before we had Laufey’s surrender.”

“Yet barely a year after the truce was signed, a ‘rogue’ faction of Jotnar launched an attack upon Asgard itself,” said Fandral. His tone suggested he had strong doubts that there had been anything rogue about them. “That one attack cost us more dearly than the entire war. Einherjar who were just settling in to enjoy the peace they fought for were slaughtered at their homes. Noble houses were destroyed. Even members of the Allfather’s Council were slain, my uncle included. The only reason the invasion couldn’t do even worse damage was the sacrifice of the Valkyrior. They gave their lives to end the invasion before it could get even worse. Well, all but one, it seems.”

“Damn, that’s got to be rough,” said Clint, looking at Brunnhilde with grim sympathy. 

X

Brunnhilde realized that everyone else was looking at her and tried to piece together what they’d been saying. It was no good. Her mind had been too focused on the fact that she could encounter the Allfather at any moment, and she didn’t know what she would do when that happened. Scream at him, lunge at him with her Dragonfang, or simply wait for him to order her executed...they all had their merits. She frowned irritably. “What did you just say?” 

“We were telling the mortals of the war with Jotunheim,” said the blond dandy. He looked very somber and respectful. “And...how the Valkyrior fell defending Asgard from an attempted Jotun invasion after the truce was signed.”

“What?” said Brunnhilde, freezing in her tracks. She barely felt it when the dark-haired mortal walked right into her. “We didn’t fall to any bloody Frost Giants. What the Hel are you talking about?”

The two young warriors looked stunned. “But...everyone older than us saw it happen,” said the black-haired woman. “There’s even a memorial statue at the Eyries of a Valkyrie and a Jotun trading mortal wounds.”

Brunnhilde stared at her. For a few bewildering seconds, she thought the whole realm must’ve gone mad, but then reality sank in. Her hands balled into fists so tight that her nails cut into her palms. Odin. He couldn’t just take the shame of his people knowing that their beloved Valkyrior had fallen in battle against his own daughter, or that he had failed to prevent it. No, it was much more convenient to blame the nearest enemy instead. Had Hela’s loyalists even been punished, or had they, like everyone else, simply had their minds altered to suit this narrative? She didn’t know how a child adopted from Jotunheim factored into all this. Maybe Odin didn’t really consider him an heir, and he was simply a hostage to keep Laufey quiet about the slander. 

She said nothing else to the others for the rest of the walk to the healing hall, unconcerned that her glower had cast an awkward pall over the group. Everything was just the same as the last time she’d been here. She’d expected it to be different. How could it not be, after what had happened? But of course it hadn’t changed. Odin hadn’t allowed it to. 

If she were one of the Einherjar’s berserkers, she might’ve gone on a rampage right then and there, but the Valkyrior had prided themselves on their control. It wasn’t self-preservation that stopped her. She hadn’t cared about that since that day on Niflheim. Whether leaving Sakaar caught up to her or she met her fate here on Asgard, she was going to give that old bastard a taste of what justice was like when not defined by him first.

X

Thor watched Loki anxiously. He didn’t know anything about how Jotun illnesses or the Casket of Ancient Winters worked, but surely this couldn’t hurt, at least. A few seconds after his parents clasped Loki’s hands to its handles, they both winced. If the healing room was getting this cold so quickly, then maybe direct contact with Loki’s skin was dangerous right now. They didn’t let go. Gold light began to shine from their fingers, and their expressions smoothed back to steely determination. The steam drifting from Loki’s markings thinned, then stopped entirely. The water in the basin began to rise higher, which seemed strange at first, until Thor realized that it was merely expanding in a kind of reverse avalanche as it froze into slush.

At the point when it began to spill over the rim, Loki groaned and opened his eyes. “Mother? Father?” he said. His words were slurred and sluggish. “Where’m I? Whass going on?”

“You’re home, darling,” said Frigga, squeezing his hand. “You’re home and you’re safe.”

“Try to rest,” said Odin. “It seems you’ve squeezed quite an exhausting few days out of the hour since I last saw you.”

Loki gave a faint nod. His eyes fell closed again, but this time it was in a peaceful sort of way. Thor let out a slow breath. His brother was going to be alright. 

“Prince Thor!” 

Thor jumped and looked around at Eir, whose attention was no longer exclusively for Loki. “What?” he said. He felt vaguely like he was a little boy again, being scolded for doing something dangerous. 

“What have you done to your arm?” she demanded. 

He looked down at it. It was covered in dried, crusted blood and still bleeding from the deep gash in it. “Oh,” he said. “Got cut. I won, though.” 

Eir waved one her apprentices closer and together they marched him over to a cot and forced him to sit so they could get better access to his wound. Within moments, they had vanished the scale mail all the way from pauldron to bracer, cleaned his arm, smeared a stinging purple cream over the cut, sealed it shut with strands of seidr, and bandaged it. All the while, Eir muttered a familiar tirade about what Asgard would come to with princes who had such little regard for their own safety. He could see his mother fighting back laughter, and even Odin raised an eyebrow at him as if to say that the healer had a point.

The door opened, and Sif, Fandral, Brunnhilde, Romanoff, Barton, and Banner all filed inside. The humans recoiled a bit from the unexpected cold, while Sif and Fandral immediately put fist to heart (Fandral a little awkwardly, as he was still carrying the transporter), bowed their heads, and murmured, “Your majesties.”

Frigga gave them a nod to dispel the formalities, and they straightened. Brunnhilde, though, didn’t move a muscle to acknowledge the presence of her king and queen. Thor hoped no one else had noticed.

“How fares the prince?” said Sif. She made a funny face when she saw Loki, who now looked like he’d fallen asleep in the middle of a snowdrift, only his hands and head poking out of it. Thor had to admit it was an amusing sight.

“Thanks to our king’s quick thinking, he may already be out of danger,” said Eir. She shot a questioning glance at Gerd, who nodded. 

Sif looked relieved. She smiled at Thor, who smiled back. He hadn’t expected such a show of solidarity from her after their last conversation about Loki, but he was very glad of it.

“Lady Eir, I was captured by Thanos’s man alongside Prince Loki, and we were held in the same cell.” said Brunnhilde. “I can tell you what I know of his condition.”

Odin went very still at the sound of her voice and turned slowly to meet her gaze. The atmosphere in the room shifted. Even the humans seemed to feel it, for they all made uncomfortable movements and looked at each other. It was impossible for Thor to tell what his father was thinking, but Brunnhilde looked both sober and quietly furious. From his experience, that was not a good combination.

“Y-yes,” said Eir with a nervous glance at Odin. “The more information we have about what happened to him, the easier our job will be.”

Odin stood, leaving the Casket to rest atop the newly formed mound of slush, with Frigga still supporting Loki’s hand on the other handle. “Thor, come,” he said. “I would hear your part of what happened on Sakaar. Loki can tell me the rest when he is well. Lady Sif, Fandral, escort the mortals to the laboratory.”

“Yes, Allfather,” they said in unison, putting fist to heart and bowing again. Romanoff, Barton, and Banner went with them, casting questioning glances back at Thor. He tried to look reassuring.

“Commander,” said Odin when they were gone. 

“Allfather.”

There was a pause in which nobody in the room breathed. 

“Come to the throne room in an hour,” said Odin. “I believe there is much for us to discuss.”

Brunnhilde gave a jerky nod. 

As Thor accompanied his father from the healing hall, he wondered if maybe bringing the last Valkyrie home to an Asgard still under Odin’s rule had been a bad idea.

Chapter Text

“And he did this for hours at a time, twice?” said Eir, appalled. 

“Yes,” said Brunnhilde. Brief glances in the direction of the queen indicated that the other woman would have gladly torn Ebony Maw limb from limb had he still lived. “There was no blood, but Prince Loki had no strength afterward and could barely move, and the ship…” She trailed off with an involuntary shudder. “It felt wrong. I don’t have any talent for active seidr manipulation myself and being on board was bad enough for me. He was trying not to show it, but I think it was much worse for him, particularly when he tried to do magic. We were also never fed the entire time we were Maw’s prisoners.”

“When did the prince use his frjosleikr?” said the blonde elf. “His ice powers, that is,” she elaborated.

“Maw dragged us out of the brig so that he could force Loki to watch him use the ship’s weapons against Thor down on the ground. Loki must’ve thought there was a chance that the ship wouldn’t affect his Jotun abilities the way it did his seidr. He transformed and attacked. His form was awkward, but it got the job done. Maw didn’t have a chance to fire off so much as a single shot, and the ice crippled the ship’s power source.”

Frigga bent and kissed Loki’s forehead and continued stroking his hair, her eyes shining with pride. Brunnhilde had to concede that the queen, at least, was sincere in considering him her child, but maybe that was a given for the Goddess of Motherhood. She was less willing to grant the same to Odin, despite the affecting scene she’d witnessed upon arriving at the healing room. Frigga caught her gaze before she could look away. “Were you only an observer in all this, my dear?” she said.

Brunnhilde shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “I took out the Sakaaran soldiers Maw had with him on the bridge. Their attention was on Loki, but they never had the chance to attack.”

There was a knowing look in Frigga’s eye that made Brunnhilde’s stomach squirm. The way she felt about Loki—if she felt anything about Loki, which she was trying not to dwell on—was private, and there was no point examining it further in light of the confrontation about to take place in the throne room. 

“Thank you,” said Frigga, inclining her head. “You have Asgard’s gratitude for the life of its prince, and you have a mother’s gratitude for having her son safely returned to her.”

A rustle from the windowsill closest to Loki drew Brunnhilde’s gaze, and she caught a glimpse of black tail feathers before the bird could fly completely out of sight. “Yeah, well,” she said, the squirming feeling intensifying. “He saved my life first.” 

After she had answered Eir, Frigga, and the elf lady’s questions to their satisfaction, she turned to go. One of the apprentice healers took the opportunity to hurry up to her and politely but firmly hint that she should take the remainder of the time given her by the king to wash up and make herself presentable. A palace servant joined in and suggested she check the palace armory to see if they had something more suitable for her to wear for an audience with the Allfather. 

She brushed them both off, but as soon as she was sure she was out of their line of sight, she did head for the armory. 

Her first instinct had been to force Scrapper 142 upon Asgard, complete with the powerful aroma of Sakaar (not that she’d been able to smell it for several centuries), and watch them all squirm to see how far one of their own could fall. She’d changed her mind. If Odin wanted to put her on trial, perhaps for desertion as Loki had suggested, then he would have to pronounce his sentence upon Commander Brunnhilde Sigursdottir of the Second Wing. 

X

“So quick to praise your friends,” said Odin when Thor paused for breath after a thorough explanation of the crucial reconnaissance Barton and Romanoff had done to make their final operation on Sakaar possible. “The Thor of a month ago would have done little but boast of his own achievements. Are you so changed, or were you merely a bystander to the mortals’ endeavors?”

Thor grimaced, both at the memory of his arrogant younger self and at the several ways he had proven more of a hindrance than a help on Sakaar. “I was a fool,” he said. “If it hadn’t been for Loki and my friends—and the second transporter catching up to us when we needed reinforcements most—I doubt I could have salvaged our quest from my own mistakes. I placed too much value in my previous experiences on Sakaar. I gave no thought to the resources we might need or how we would acquire them, it didn’t occur to me that the strange flow of time on Sakaar could impact our plans, and I forgot that the people of Earth have no magic or technology that permits easy communication with speakers of foreign tongues.”

“Your humility and recognition of your own errors do you great credit, my boy,” said Odin, laying a hand on Thor’s shoulder. “These are qualities a wise king needs, but that does not mean your triumphs should count for nothing. Come, you already told us in the healing room that you won the battle that gave you that wound. Tell me more.”

Thor described the plans they’d made with Korg, the rousing speech he made to the people using the nameless tongue, and the way he took as long as he could in the battle to give Barton and Romanoff enough time to free the slaves. Then he spoke about the full-blown battle, Maw’s ship falling from the sky, and retrieving Loki, the Valkyrie, and Maw’s kinsmen from it.

“I’ll arrange for quarters for our new guests,” said Odin. “It seems Maw forced them into quite the harrowing ordeal. We’ll let them settle in before questioning them about Thanos.”

“Agreed,” said Thor. He teetered on the verge of keeping his thoughts to himself, but he had to ask the question that had been eating at him since this discussion began. “Why did you call Brunnhilde to the throne room?”

“How else am I to proceed when one of my top military officers returns after being presumed dead for a millennium?” said Odin. He then firmly changed the subject before Thor could ask anything else. “Now, this victory should be marked with a feast. We’ll open the palace to the public, of course. I still need to discuss Thanos with the Council before bringing the matter to the people, but I do think this will be the perfect occasion to formalize our closer ties to Midgard.”

“Wha—really?” said Thor. 

“I was skeptical before, but Agents Barton and Romanoff have displayed remarkable resourcefulness, intelligence, and adaptability that more than offset their mortal limitations, just as the band of scientists have brought fresh perspective and ingenuity in their work with our smiths and engineers. With minds and talents like these at its disposal, it will not be long before Midgard finds its own way out of isolation. Asgard should not miss this opportunity to be the hand that guides it there.”

It was possible that his father was imagining that hand to be less friendly and more controlling, but Thor still considered it an improvement over his dismissive attitude during the Convergence. 

“Now go clean yourself up,” said Odin, giving Thor’s shoulder a slap. “You smell worse than a bilgesnipe den at high summer.”

X

Brunnhilde walked into the throne room in full Valkyrie armor, her hair braided in Valkyrie battle style, her Dragonfang sheathed on her back. It was almost like the last thousand years had been a dream, and she was merely off to the Council chambers to discuss strategy for defending Vanaheim from raiders.

She expected to find guards waiting at the door and standing by every column when she reached the throne room. She expected to be made to hand over her weapons. However, no one greeted her at the high doors, and when she stepped inside, her footsteps echoed across a deserted hall. 

At first, she thought nothing had changed here either, but that wasn’t entirely true.  

When she glanced up at the ceiling, she saw that the painting of Odin and Frigga’s wedding was now a family portrait that included their adult sons. The figures in the celebration scenes had also changed to include the four who’d been on Sakaar for the battle. The only ones that were the same were Gladsheim and the Bifrost, Odin with his arms encompassing nine spheres that represented the nine realms, and the one that had only been freshly painted the last time she was here: Odin and Laufey signing the truce to end the Aesir-Jotnar war.

She walked to the bottom of the golden stairs leading to Hlidskjalf, where Odin sat, Gungnir in hand. His attention was on the raven perched on the left armrest, whose feathers he was affectionately stroking. It croaked and took flight when she came to a halt. Odin followed its progress for a moment before finally looking at her.

She didn’t bow. It was the third time she had failed to do so, but still he made no comment about it.

“What, no audience for my trial?” she said.

“You think this is a trial?”

She shrugged. “Aren’t I a deserter? An oathbreaker?”

“At first glance, perhaps, though I have it on good authority that you saved my son’s life on Sakaar.” 

Damn nosy birds. “That wasn’t about an oath,” she muttered gruffly. She didn’t need him starting up with that too. This was exactly why she always tried not to meet the parents of anyone she fancied.

“Even so, if I had let you and your shield-sisters do the same a thousand years ago, they would likely still be here.”

Brunnhilde stared at him, incredulous. He was admitting it?

He offered a thin, wry smile. “No, your ears do not deceive you, Brunnhilde Sigursdottir. You see, it is not you who has much to answer for this day. Speak your mind.”

“You would not like what’s in my mind.”

“A king who can only hear that which pleases him is a fool.”

Brunnhilde’s eyes flared. He could spout a proverb like that with a straight face when he was the reason his own people had pleasant lies for memories?

She wanted to lunge at him where he sat, press her Dragonfang into his throat, and scream at him. “And what if speaking wouldn’t be enough?” she said.

“Perhaps that is what I deserve,” said Odin.

The armor and the hair felt like such a lie all of a sudden. She might look the part of a respected commander of the Valkyrior again, but she wasn’t. That woman could have come down upon Odin in righteous fury, but her fallen sisters couldn’t have had a worse representative in the person she’d become—a person who would sell weaker, innocent beings into slavery just to keep the liquor flowing. To keep the Grandmaster happy enough that he didn’t decide to trade his brother’s “gift” for a different one. 

She never would have become that person if it hadn’t been for Odin, but it didn’t change the fact that she had.

“Why did you send us there?” she asked. 

The years might not have touched her on Sakaar, but they had taken more than their usual toll on the Allfather. He seemed to crumple in on himself. “That order,” he said, “was the gravest tactical error of my entire reign.” 

“If you know that, then why did you give it?” The question had tormented her in the early years, before she had drowned it in alcohol. Now she found that it was still there, and surprisingly strong. Images from that battle, which she had kept buried for so long, were trying to creep up on her now. They’d thought they were prepared. They’d known what Hela could do, but she was alone and limited to battling on foot. They, unlike her, could use their horses to come and go from Niflheim without a shadow gate. They could surround her by air as well as on the ground. Brunnhilde forced the memories back down. She didn’t want to watch them die again. “We didn’t stand a chance against Hela, so why did you send us to fight her? Clearly you were capable of defeating her, if you’re still here and she’s not. Why didn’t you fight with us?”

Her chest heaved and angry tears blurred her view of Odin. She brushed them impatiently aside. She wanted to see his face. 

“I stayed on Asgard,” said Odin, “because Hela’s supporters had already killed one of my sons, and they weren’t going to stop there.” 

Brunnhilde’s next accusing question died on her lips. 

Odin swallowed. He looked like he was in terrible pain, and she was too shocked to be glad over it. “They infiltrated the ranks of our trusted servants during the war with Jotunheim. They poisoned him gradually while Frigga was still pregnant.”

“Then…,” she began slowly. “Then there was another child.” She had wondered how Thor seemed to only have one younger sibling when all of Asgard had known of Frigga’s second pregnancy and celebrated the prospect of the coming prince or princess as the war drew to a close. Loki was obviously a full-blooded Jotun, so, she reasoned, either the entire pregnancy had been a ruse, or...

Odin’s features creased with an old grief. “It was cleverly done,” he said. “They used the extract of a rare strain of mistletoe. Barely an inconvenience to an adult, untraceable if administered in small enough doses. Frigga never realized anything was amiss until the birth. Even Eir believed our little Baldur died of natural causes.”

“You didn’t tell anyone,” Brunnhilde realized. “You just pretended that baby was Loki all along, which would have made the conspirators think their plan had failed.” 

He nodded. “They were much more reckless on their second attempt. They might have succeeded had Frigga not gone to the nursery in the middle of the night and found the traitorous servant there, holding a dagger.”

“You didn’t know who else might be an operative for Hela,” said Brunnhilde hollowly. “You stayed behind to protect your sons.” She’d known about the assassination attempt on the princes, of course. Everyone had. But they’d assumed that was the first and only attempt. When the Hela loyalists moved into the open, it all happened so fast that she had never known where it started.

“Yes,” said Odin. “There were palace guards involved as well, and high-ranking Einherjar who once fought under Hela’s command. They attacked the royal quarters with as much force as they guarded the sorcerers opening the shadow gate.” 

“You could have set us to protect your family,” said Brunnhilde, her anger flaring up again. “We would have fought to the death to keep them safe, and it actually would have meant something!”

“I know,” said Odin. He looked older than ever. “The Valkyrior opposed Hela’s vision for Asgard before I did, when speaking out against her was dangerous. It was never a question of your loyalty—or your capabilities. I simply miscalculated. I thought I severed Hela from the power of my line when I exiled her to Niflheim, but I underestimated how much of that power comes from the support of the people, not merely Asgard as a physical place. With those people in open rebellion, her power was at its peak.”

Then Odin had not coldly and knowingly sent them to their deaths. A piece of the betrayal and resentment she had carried with her all this time splintered off and fell away, but there was still the lie he had told to smooth all of this over. And she realized something else, too. “She’s still alive, isn’t she? After all that, you still didn’t kill her.” 

“I meant to. If she’d had any part in Baldur’s death or the assassination attempt on Thor and Loki, I may have gone through with it.”

“So instead you made everyone forget about her.” 

“In one move, I broke her power and wiped away the unrest on Asgard. All for the price of setting up her supporters as martyrs alongside your sisters and vilifying my new son’s already defeated kin.”

There was a bitter taste in Brunnhilde’s mouth. “Was it worth it?”

“To avoid civil war and prevent Hela’s escape?” said Odin. “Yes.”

Chapter Text

Asgard had more than satisfied Fjolnir’s expectations. He didn’t know why his mother had been so anxious about coming; everything had been great so far. Their accommodations in the palace were amazing, he’d made friends right away, and there was so much to explore. 

The best part, though, was Asgard’s princes. He’d thought for sure that two adult brothers as powerful and important as them would be too busy with serious things to spend any time with a boy from another realm, even if he was their third cousin. He’d been wrong. They weren’t like lots of the grown-ups on Vanaheim. They were fun.  

Loki was Fjolnir’s favorite (despite being just dreadful at snowball fighting). That was good, because it meant that he and Leif didn’t argue over which prince they would each pretend to be as they battled imaginary foes in the front garden of the Aes boy’s manor on the outskirts of the city. They had crafted crude approximations of winged and horned helmets out of parchment and glue, and Fjolnir had used a transmutation spell he’d been studying in recent months to get them a little closer to accurate. He couldn’t quite change the substance of anything yet, but he could at least make them shiny and metallic for the duration of the game.

At the moment, they were battling ogres (two of Leif’s brothers) to protect a peaceful town of elves (the twins—a brother and sister who weren’t quite toddlers anymore—and the baby brother). They couldn’t be as loud as they liked unless they wanted one of the older sisters to storm outside and yell at them for disrupting their lessons, but it was still a good game. 

Halfway through a dramatic death scene after being slain by “Thor,” Rolfe shot to his feet with a shout of, “Father’s home!” and went sprinting off towards the gate. All three elf civilians squealed in delight and ran after him, and Fjolnir brought up the rear with Leif and Alaric.

The little ones intercepted Lord Volstagg halfway across the garden. He laughed and leapt down from his horse so that they could tackle him. Alaric happily joined in. “Ah, I see we have a guest,” said Volstagg from under the pile of giggling children. “Welcome, young son of Freyr! I hope you’ve all been good hosts.”

“Oh, yes, Pabbi,” said Jargsa. “I shared some of my favorite tarts!”

“What a good girl you are,” said Volstagg, making her shriek in protest when he rubbed his beard against her cheek. 

“Look at what Fjolnir did with our helmets!” said Leif, pulling off the silver wings and holding them out for his father to examine. Fjolnir removed his golden horns and held them out too. 

“Ah, I see you’ve been playing the roles of the princes,” said Volstagg. Fjolnir thought he made kind of a funny face when he looked at the horns. Were they the wrong shape?

“If you’re home already, Lord Volstagg, does that mean they are too?” said Fjolnir. “Mama said they might be gone for days or even longer.”

“Yes, they’ve returned,” said Volstagg. “It was a successful quest, all told!” 

“Brilliant!” said Fjolnir, while the Volstaggsborn all clamored to hear the story of their father’s adventure with the princes. “I should head back to the palace, then.”

“Er—I’m not sure that’s a good idea at the moment,” said Volstagg. He still had the funny face.

“Why not?” said Fjolnir.

“Prince Loki is...ill,” said Volstagg. “I don’t think now would be the best time to visit.”

“If he’s ill then he needs visitors even more!” said Fjolnir. Surely the illness couldn’t be too terrible if he’d been fine at breakfast that morning. What could’ve happened? He started running towards the stables to fetch Hvitfaxi. “I’ll see you later, Leif!” he yelled over his shoulder.

“Bye, Fjolnir!” Leif yelled back.

X

Nobody else in the lab was paying Natasha or Clint much attention, now that the intern had already commented on their cyberpunk warrior and space cowboy outfits, respectively. The scientists were testing how well their transporters had done on the mission while Sif and Fandral explained the situation of the four gray aliens to a pair of palace servants.

“So how do you want to play this when we get to HQ?” said Clint.

“Think we should do the debrief like everything’s normal?” said Natasha.

“It’d buy us some time. We just hold back on handing over any alien tech or dangerous intel until we talk to Fury.”

“And if Sitwell notices the injection site from your translator?” She leaned over and poked at the hairline on the back of Clint’s neck. Hers stung a little when she touched it, but at least she could hide it with her hair. Clint’s was fully visible and still red and swollen. It didn’t really look like a bug bite. 

Clint frowned. “Would he buy it if we said we had to get some kind of basic shot to protect against alien diseases?”

“Maybe. But if we put that idea in his head, we might just end up in quarantine for a month.”

“There’s a good chance Fitzsimmons will want us there anyway.” 

Natasha sighed. “It’s not like they wouldn’t have a point.”

The door opened and Thor strode in. He made straight for them.

“How’s Loki?” said Natasha.

“He’s going to be fine,” said Thor, beaming. “Thank you for everything you’ve done for us.”

“Glad we could help,” said Clint. “Did you want to escort us back to the Bifrost yourself?”

“What?” said Thor. “No, no, I came to tell you that you’re to be honored tomorrow at the banquet.” He clapped them on their shoulders (Natasha barely managed to keep her footing). “We’ll be celebrating our closer ties with Earth!”

Receiving public honors wasn’t something spies typically did, but if it made the alien warrior race happy, who was she to say no? “That sounds great,” she said. 

“If you want to return home in the meantime, you can, or you can stay in guest quarters here in Gladsheim. There will be fresh clothing laid out for you in the style of what you wore when you arrived—or our seamstresses’ best guess at it, anyway. Coulson would be welcome at the banquet too for his assistance when Loki and I were on Earth, and...” He glanced over at the other people in the room, and when he spoke again, there was something different about the way the words sounded. He must be using that encrypted language he’d explained on Sakaar before they carried out their plan. “Barton, your family would also be welcome, if you’d like to bring them—it’s the least I can do after the risk of how long Sakaar might’ve kept you from them had we been less lucky.”

Clint’s eyes lit up, but he looked torn. “Thanks,” he said. He reached out and clasped Thor’s arm the way Thor was always doing instead of Earth-style handshakes. “I know they’d love to see this place. I’ll think about it.”

X

Loki knew he was home as soon as he woke up. The air carried a faint smell of apple blossoms and sunshine, and even though his body still ached, he felt better than he had since his and Brunnhilde’s initial battle with Maw. 

He opened his eyes and was surprised to realize that he was still in Jotun form. Usually the temperature in the palace was oppressively hot and the lighting far too bright, but Eir, or perhaps Gerd or his mother, had ensured that his room in the healing hall would be tailored to his comfort in this form. Heavy curtains had been hung over the normally bare window to keep out most of the light. A soft blue glow to his left drew his gaze. Atop the spindly table beside his cot, alongside a stack of clean linens and a pitcher of water, sat the Casket of Ancient Winters. That must be the reason for the room’s temperature. It felt wonderful. He looked down at himself and saw that someone had swapped out the armor he’d worn to Sakaar with a soft green tunic. 

A quiet scratching sound from his right made him look around. The corners of his mouth twitched up. Fjolnir Freyrson was sitting cross-legged on a chair a few yards away, head bent over a sheet of parchment he was furiously scribbling on with a stick of colored charcoal. He’d taken his pendant off and hung it from the arm of the chair—it would’ve been difficult to see to draw in here with half-Ljosalfr eyes rather than half-Jotun. In the few seconds Loki watched, Fjolnir dropped the charcoal he was using into his dimensional pocket and summoned a new one of a different color with barely a pause in his work. 

An idea struck Loki that made him grin. Careful not to make a sound, he reached for the pitcher of water. The motion made him wince, but it wasn’t too bad. What he had done on Maw’s ship seemed to have broken through some of his blocks about frjosleikr. It was about feeling the ice, not sending it mental commands. He dipped his hand into the pitcher and drew out the heat. It was only a few degrees above freezing already, so there wasn’t much for him to do. 

X

Once he’d delivered his message to Barton and Romanoff and satisfied himself with the lodgings for their new guests, Thor went straight to his chambers to wash up and change into clean armor as Odin had suggested. He wasn’t sure Eir would let him in to see Loki if he came back still covered in the smell and grime of battle and Sakaar. He hadn’t thought it was so bad, but more than a few of the servants and guards he’d passed had wrinkled their noses or coughed while performing their usual salutes. 

He had barely opened his mouth to ask the first apprentice healer where he could find Loki when she pointed wordlessly to one of the doors without pausing in her work. He thanked her and proceeded to the door. He opened it slowly, careful not to make too much noise in case Loki was still asleep. The chill wasn’t too bad, but he had to squint to see in the dim light. First, he saw Fjolnir looking around at him from a chair, and then he saw Loki on the cot, sleeping peacefully. The next second, a white sphere collided squarely with Fjolnir’s ear and splattered all over him. He shouted and sent his parchment flying. Loki dropped the illusion, revealing that he was actually sitting up in bed and very much awake, enjoying a hearty laugh.

Thor held in his own laugher, watching for Fjolnir’s reaction. After a moment of frantically digging snow out of his ear, he froze and stared at Loki. “You—you hit me with a snowball!” he said. 

“Did I?” said Loki.

“I have to go tell Mama!” said Fjolnir, bouncing on his chair. “She’ll be so excited to start the next part of your lessons.” He snatched up his pendant, then shivered and swatted more of the snow away when he transformed back to his half-Ljosalfr form. “Oh!” he retrieved the parchment from where it had fallen and bounded over to Loki’s cot. “I made this for you.” 

“Thank you,” said Loki. He looked at whatever was on it and chuckled. “This is very good. I shall treasure it.” 

Fjolnir beamed and scampered for the door. “Hi, Thor!” he said on his way past. 

“Hello, Fjolnir,” said Thor, amused. He picked up Fjolnir’s vacated chair and moved it to Loki’s bedside. He tilted his head so he could see Fjolnir’s drawing, which Loki made no attempt to hide. It was a picture of Loki and Fjolnir, both blue-skinned, riding their horses through what looked like a field in the middle of a snowy winter. 

“He’s not a bad artist for his age,” said Thor. He looked at Loki. He really needed to learn more about Jotnar. He had no idea if this shade of blue was a healthy one, and he didn’t think Loki would appreciate it if he was always asking. “Should I take it as a good sign that you’re already well enough to pull a minor prank on our young cousin?”

“I hope that’s the last frjosleikr fever I ever have, but yes.” 

“Maybe you’ll even be able to attend the banquet tomorrow,” said Thor hopefully.

Loki’s jaw tightened and his brow furrowed a little. “I’m not sure that would be wise.”

“Why not?” 

Loki was silent for a moment. Thor waited. “Am I remembering right that I reappeared on Asgard in the middle of a crowded market square?” 

Thor grimaced. “Yes. Banner said he’d take a look at the transporter to find out why it didn’t bring your group straight to the palace. Sif was sure she set the right destination.”

Another pause. “Did the people know what I am in your other timeline?”

“Word got out about it in the year after you fell from the Bifrost,” said Thor. “Next to everything else going on, I’m not sure they gave it much thought.” He fought a grin, at which Loki narrowed his eyes. “By the time Ragnarok was approaching, you’d written a play about your life. I distinctly recall the actor portraying Father describing the day he found you on Jotunheim.” Here, Thor stood, held one hand over his heart and the other out in front of him, and tried his best to replicate the performance. “You were merely a little blue baby icicle that melted this old fool’s heart.” 

He yelped when a snowball smashed against his collar. It was made of particularly wet snow, and most of it slid straight down his back on impact. He danced on the spot, trying to shake it out, while Loki laughed. “So cruel,” Thor complained, resuming his seat. “The people cheered, you know. It was a very touching production.”

“Shut up,” said Loki, rolling his eyes. “Do you think it’ll be so easy this time? They don’t have the shattered Bifrost or my apparent death to distract them. This could complicate any efforts we make towards an alliance with Jotunheim.”

“I hope it will be easy,” said Thor, “but even if it’s not, you’ll have me and Mother and Father through all of it.”

“I know, Brother,” said Loki. He gave Thor a smile that was a bit embarrassed and uncertain. Paired with his simple tunic and the curls he hadn’t slicked back, it made him look very young. 

Thor felt light and warm despite the chill of the room. Loki was sitting here in Jotun form, smiling. He hadn’t even been back in the past a whole month yet, and they’d already come so far. But he wasn’t able to enjoy it for long. As had so often been the case when he tried to hold onto his happiness, storm clouds seemed to creep over his heart. His face fell and his shoulders slumped. “I should’ve planned better on Sakaar. My thoughtlessness got you captured and tortured.”

Loki groaned. “Must you force me to be the optimist? You were right when you said there wasn’t much time for planning, and I should’ve been paying attention to what I was drinking in that mead hall. It was also my choice not to retreat and give Maw the slip when I had the chance. Regardless, we all emerged victorious and whole in the end, and Thanos will not learn anything about the Space Stone from me.”

That brought Thor’s smile back, though it was fiercer this time. He nodded. “Can I get anything for you?”

Loki stretched and shifted his position with only a small wince to betray any lingering discomfort. “I’m sure I can persuade Eir to release me soon, but you could send for some food. I haven’t eaten anything since before we went to Sakaar, unless you count the spiked drinks.”

Chapter Text

The aliens Neris, Tidra, Halu, and Rijal were subdued throughout their tour of the accommodations offered by Odin, but they did express their gratitude. Neris, who seemed to be the spokesman of the group, told Sif and Fandral that he was sure they would be very comfortable. 

Sif wished there was more Asgard could do for such victims of the Mad Titan than to avenge the fallen and ensure that no one else would suffer at his hand as they had. Since Thor had raised his concerns about Thanos, she’d done some reading about Asgard’s previous war against him, trying to understand why the Allfather had settled for a temporary victory instead of pushing on and destroying him. 

According to the war archives, Thanos had first approached Asgard with the goal of partnering with them for their military strength. When Odin learned what Thanos meant to use them for, he threw him out. Furious at Odin’s slight, Thanos soon returned with his armies. They proved insufficient. When Thanos realized he would not prevail, he fled, using a large portion of the remaining zealots who fought for him as decoys to ensure his personal escape. Sif had been disgusted by Thanos’s cowardice and disregard for the lives of those loyal to him. In spite of it, his escape might have failed, but the losses Asgard had sustained made it risky to mount a full pursuit without leaving the realm vulnerable to other enemies in an opportunistic mood. 

The explanation didn’t sit very well with Sif. Perhaps that had been a good reason not to pursue the Titan at the time, but why had they allowed him two millennia to rebuild and regroup? Maybe the Allfather had believed he’d learned his lesson or that his power had been irrevocably broken, but it had been over a century since he had begun his culling on individual planets, and his momentum only appeared to be growing. True, none of these planets was within Yggdrasil, but that didn’t seem a good enough reason for inaction. Thor was right, both about Asgard’s obligation to stand against Thanos and the need to bring as many allies along as they could muster. 

“Where are you going?” said Fandral. 

Sif looked around at him. They’d left the aliens’ quarters a moment ago, and she had just put a foot on the first step leading to the upper levels on the great staircase. “To the healing hall, of course,” she said. “Don’t you want to check on Loki one more time before leaving Gladsheim for the evening?”

“Eir already said he was out of danger,” said Fandral, who was standing back where the steps spiraled down from the fifth floor landing. 

“She only said he may be out of danger,” Sif corrected him.

“Healers always talk like that,” he countered with a wave of a hand. “She was just being cautious. If he were really still in danger, she’d have said so.” And he began walking down the stairs before Sif could argue. She frowned after him but continued on up. 

She wasn’t quite to the door of the healing hall when Thor came striding out. He saw her and smiled, which made her stomach do a flip. He’d gotten cleaned up since coming to the mortals’ laboratory. She wished she’d had time to do the same.

“How is he?” she said.

“Nearly recovered,” said Thor. 

“That’s wonderful.” Now that she was sure of Loki’s condition, she suddenly felt awkward about the prospect of actually seeing him.  

Oblivious to her dilemma, Thor moved closer to her and asked, expression serious, “How many people do you think were in that square where you appeared?”

“A few dozen, at least,” she said.

“Then it’ll be all over Asgard by nightfall.” Thor blew out a breath and ran a hand through his hair. “What did they do when they saw Loki?”

“They were confused and alarmed.” She winced. “One girl asked me if the Frost Giant was my prisoner. She didn’t realize she was speaking of her prince. I set her straight.”

Thor’s expression was troubled and he seemed to be looking at something far away.

“You said your father kept things from you and Loki,” said Sif. “This is what you meant, isn’t it? Neither of you knew he wasn’t Aes.” 

Thor shook his head.

She watched him closely. She saw the way his brows furrowed and his lips tightened. It was rare to see such a brooding look on Thor’s face. And he’d been so protective of Loki ever since he came back in time. He tended to get that way to some degree whenever Loki got hurt, but never this much. An awful suspicion struck her. “The first time you lived through this, it didn’t end well for him,” she said.

Thor closed his eyes. “He learned the truth in the worst way possible.” 

“What happened?” she said. She almost didn’t ask it; she could see that it was a painful memory for Thor, but perhaps speaking of it would help, like drawing poison out of a wound.

“I started a war with Jotunheim,” said Thor. He started to walk. 

Sif was quick to follow. “Because of their attempt to steal the Casket?” she said.

“Because of my arrogance and temper,” Thor corrected her. His tone was sharp enough to be rude, but it was directed inward. “I’ve never seen Father more furious or disappointed. He turned me mortal and banished me to Midgard so I would learn humility.” He looked at Sif. “Do you want to know one of the last things Loki heard me say before Father hurled me into the Bifrost?” 

“What?” 

“I said that the Jotnar must learn to fear me,” he spat. Sif had never seen Thor so shamefaced. “What must he have made of that, to hear it the same day he discovered the truth about himself?”

“But you didn’t mean it that way!” she protested.

“Of course I didn’t, but how was Loki to know that? All my life, I spoke of a day when I would meet the Frost Giants in battle like Father. I dreamed of inspiring epic songs about Thor Giant-Slayer. I never considered them anything but monsters. How could Loki trust that I wouldn’t treat him with the same contempt and violence I did the other Jotnar if I learned he was one of them? What had I done in the decades—the centuries, perhaps—leading up to that day to assure him that our bond would mean more to me than his origins? I unwittingly did everything I could to make my little brother afraid of me.”

“Thor,” said Sif, reaching for his arm. “No one who grew up alongside the two of you could doubt that you love your brother.” While he and Loki squabbled and fought like any pair of siblings so close in age, Thor had ever been the first to defend Loki against criticism. He always had Loki along on adventures when he could, and when he couldn’t, it was like the sun went behind a cloud and it probably would’ve been better if Thor hadn’t gone either. When Loki caused trouble, Thor would forgive him easily. In Sif’s pettier moments, she’d resented Loki for the place he held in Thor’s heart. He hadn’t seemed to appreciate it enough.

“They may not doubt that I love him,” said Thor, “but that I value him? The older we got, the less I listened to his advice, the more I ignored his contributions to our adventures, and the more I dismissed the rare talents and skills he has so painstakingly honed as being inferior and less honorable than combat based on physical strength. He’s the best seidmadr on Asgard and the cleverest person I know, and I acted like that was something to be embarrassed about!”

Sif swallowed. Thor’s words could have been hers, all the times she’d scoffed about Loki relying on magic in combat to make up for what he lacked as a warrior, even though he was at least as good as Fandral when he didn’t use any seidr. All the times she’d sided with Thor when Loki advised a more careful approach to some problem, even though what he warned against nearly always came true. When Loki was proved to have been right and tried to point it out, she’d thought him insufferable.

She felt very uncomfortable. She knew too well what it was to be pushed to the side and treated like nothing she had to contribute was worth anything to the people around her—like who she was was wrong. It was hard enough to be a female warrior on Asgard in the generation after the fall of the Valkyrior. Even her parents had fought her on that at every turn, and she’d endured quite a lot of teasing from other girls her age. Thor had been the first one to offer her any sincere encouragement, and she had loved him for it. 

Suddenly, Loki’s experience didn’t seem so different from her own, except that, as a prince, the expectations and pressure he faced would be far more intense. No wonder he had seemed to grow increasingly sour and cynical over the centuries. No wonder he was constantly playing humiliating and sometimes dangerous tricks on people. What had seemed to her a cruel sense of humor now looked a lot more like bursts of frustration when it became too much to bear. Sif was absolutely certain that Thor had never meant any harm by the way he treated Loki, but harm had clearly been done.

They came to a halt at a balcony that offered a stunning view of the queen’s garden. “What happened then?” she said. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answer, but she did know she wanted them to move on from this point, if only so that she could avoid thinking about what it all meant for a little while longer.

“While I was on Midgard, Father fell into the Odinsleep. Mother was afraid he would never wake from it, so she stayed close by his side. She made her support for Loki plain by giving him the regency, but she underestimated the turmoil he was in, as well as how it might appear for Loki to sit on Hlidskjalf and wield Gungnir a day after my coronation fell apart. He faced mistrust and insubordination from every quarter over a throne he didn’t even want.”

“A throne he didn’t want?” she repeated, bewildered. “What do you mean?”

“Loki understands too well what a burden it is to want it. It’s something I had to learn the hard way.”

Sif swallowed. Where did this end? She knew exactly what she would have thought of Loki suddenly on the throne so soon after they all expected to see Thor on it, even though it sounded like it had mostly been a horrible coincidence.

“By the time I was worthy to come home,” Thor went on, “he had gotten it into his head that the only way to prove himself a true son of Odin was to wipe the Frost Giants out. I didn’t understand any of what was happening until later. I had to shatter the Bifrost to stop him. After that, the only Jotun life within his reach was his own.”

A chill ran through Sif. “He tried to…” She couldn’t even make herself say the words. She never could have imagined this. Any protests she might have offered up to this interpretation of events withered away in her throat, leaving only a bitter taste behind.

“For a year, we thought he succeeded,” said Thor. He forced a smile, but the light of the late afternoon sun glimmered in the unshed tears in his eyes and his voice had grown much thicker. “But it’s alright, you see? I don’t have to wonder anymore if I could have made a difference if I’d only been on Asgard when he learned the truth, because this time I was, and look how it has turned out!” He gestured towards the healing hall they’d left behind. “Loki knows he belongs in our family and that we love him no less for how he came to be in it. I’ve done my best to be deserving of his trust and to show him that I recognize his worth.”

Sif reached for Thor’s hand and squeezed it. “You are a good brother, Thor,” she said. “Loki is lucky.” She was relieved when the words didn’t feel empty. She meant them. 

“I hope you are right,” said Thor. 

Her brow furrowed. “What was my part in—in what happened before?” she asked. She was afraid of what Thor might say, but she would not let fear stop her. “You needn’t spare my feelings by avoiding the details. I want to know.”

Thor looked at her, then down at their hands. “Does it matter?” he said, squeezing her fingers. The forced smile made a return. “It’s only in my past, not your future.”

“Tell me,” she said. “This isn’t just a second chance for you, it’s a second chance for all of us.”

Thor sighed. “You didn’t find out Loki was Jotun until later, but you thought he had schemed to put himself on the throne. You defied his orders as the rightful king and tried to get me back to Asgard, despite my having more than earned my banishment. It was the same with the Warriors Three and even Heimdall.”

“Then,” she said, “he had no one left.” 

Thor shook his head. 

It should have been comforting to know that this series of events had been thwarted, that she would not have to live through a scenario where her devotion to one prince came at the expense of the other and she played some role in building up his despair and isolation to a level he could no longer endure.

It wasn’t. 

“I never realized,” she said. 

“Neither did I, until it was too late,” said Thor. He leaned his forearms against the balustrade. “I hope that I’m a wiser man than I was, but I make mistakes like anyone else, and my position means the consequences fall on more people. I was too thoughtless to see that before, but Loki never was. He has always been quickest to call me out on my foolishness. Perhaps his approach left something to be desired at times, but I needed that. I still do. I need the people around me to challenge me and not make excuses for me.”

The ache of Sif’s unrequited love seemed to bore even deeper into her heart as she listened to him. As long as she could remember, Thor Odinson had been the standard against which she judged all other men, against which they all fell short—even when he was still a boy without a single whisker on his chin. He was handsome enough that the mere sight of him could steal her breath away if she wasn’t ready for it, but more importantly, he was strong, brave, and he had the remarkable ability to lift the spirits of all around him just by being in the same room. 

When he first announced to them that he was the Thor of a terrible future, she’d been apprehensive about the changes time had wrought upon him. If she was honest with herself, she had not missed the brashness or arrogance even for a moment, but he seemed so much more serious—somber, even, at times, and she’d taken it as an ill omen. 

The contrast between this Thor and the one she was used to had never been greater than it was right now, but suddenly she was no longer worried. On the contrary, she wanted to throw her arms around him and kiss him soundly on the mouth. It was an urge she struggled against on at least a weekly basis. She wasn’t quite sure how she managed to defeat it this time, but she did. She hoisted herself up to sit on the balustrade so that she was facing him. “This may be the last thing you want to hear after a speech like that, but...you sound like a king.”

Chapter Text

When she entered the throne room, Brunnhilde had expected to leave it in chains, if she left it with her life. She had not at all planned for a scenario in which she walked out under her own power. The surprises continued, for she was met immediately outside it by a stern-featured woman with a miniature Gungnir pinned to her dress beneath her collarbone. The royal secretary. “Brunnhilde Sigursdottir?”

“Yes?” she said apprehensively, eyeing the scroll in the woman’s hands. She might go back in to ask Odin for chains if she was expected to do paperwork now. 

“The Allfather has charged me with apprising you of several items of business regarding your return to Asgard,” said the woman, unfurling the scroll. 

So Odin had planned for their meeting to end this way all along. Crafty old git.

“Let’s hear it, then,” said Brunnhilde, resigned. 

“First, there is the matter of your position. Second, your living situation and finances. Third, and most importantly, the legacy of the Valkyrior.”

Brunnhilde’s stomach turned over. She desperately needed a drink. Food would be a good idea too, but mainly the drink.

“Should you choose to remain on Asgard, you are to retain your title. The Allfather leaves it to you to decide whether to take up your sword again in active service to the throne or retire it with the full honors due one of your rank.” 

She paused to look up at Brunnhilde for her reaction. Brunnhilde nodded, swallowing. Satisfied, she continued to read.

“You will have access to the vault of the House of Sigurd.” Here, Brunnhilde nearly snorted. Saying it that way made it sound like her family had been swimming in gold, not merely comfortably well off between her father’s wages from the smithy and the stipend granted to any family of a Valkyrie who died in battle. 

“I have researched a number of appropriate accommodations currently vacant, some in the city, some in the countryside—though, if you prefer, you may return to the Eyries instead.” 

Brunnhilde could not imagine anything less appealing. The last time she was on Asgard, the village of the Valkyrior had been bursting with life, from the song and laughter and the smell of good food in the main hall to the shouts of children running around in the family quarters to the clash of weapons in the training grounds to the whinnies and beating of wings in the stables. 

A vivid memory accosted her, of walking with Solveig to the stables, carrying apples and bags of oats for Svinnavoengr and Gisl. She could picture the exact way the sunlight had danced in Solveig’s golden hair. The next instant, she was watching Solveig jump in front of a black blade. She forced the image away.

 If she did stay on Asgard (a terrible idea, and one she was not remotely settled on), she was going to have to visit the place at least once, but she didn’t think she could ever live there again. 

“You may look through the list at your leisure, and be sure to inform me when you’ve made a decision,” said the royal secretary, seemingly oblivious to the painful emotions her brisk words had evoked. “Now, for the third matter. The Allfather has given you authority over the dispensation of the assets owned by the rest of the Valkyrior, absent surviving family or other heirs.” 

She flipped the scroll around and ran her finger down a column of runes that detailed the aforementioned assets. Brunnhilde was stunned. She and her shield-sisters had, for the most part, lived modestly, but the collective sum was considerable. She couldn’t imagine what had kept all of it from reverting back to the throne in all this time, unless it was down to sheer gulit on Odin’s part.

“If you accept this responsibility,” the secretary continued, “your options will be as follows.” She numbered them off on her fingers. “You may convert the monies into a scholarship for youths who lack the funds to attend Asgard’s more prestigious universities. You may use them to sponsor the careers of the children of other Valkyrior.” Many of them would be young adults now, and most were nowhere near the noble class. The secretary held up a third finger. “Finally, you may use them to fund the reestablishing of the Valkyrior.”

Any doubt Brunnhilde might’ve had about which course Odin preferred was firmly erased when the woman added that if she chose the third, the resources she put forward would be met with equal support from the throne. Perhaps greater, depending on what the Council thought of the idea. 

Not wanting to deal with any of this until she absolutely had to, she muttered a gruff thanks, took the scroll, and headed straight back to the armory. Remaining in the blue and whites was going to give her a higher profile than she wanted. However, her black leathers were not where she’d left them. Frowning, she turned to the Master of Arms. “Oi, what’d you do with my armor?”

“Those foul scraps?” he scoffed. “I burned them.” He didn’t seem the least bit sorry. “Will you be needing anything else?”

She groaned and walked right back out. So much for avoiding the attention of every single person she met. 

She could have left the palace then, but something made her want to delay that moment. It would add a sense of finality to being on Asgard again, and she wasn’t ready to face it. Her feet soon carried her back to the healing hall. 

X

“It’s so strange,” said Sif after a moment of amicable silence. “Asgard hasn’t had any interactions with Jotunheim in centuries, and now, mere weeks after they try to infiltrate Gladsheim, we learn that Loki is Jotun.”

Though she clearly meant it as a lighthearted observation, Thor’s stomach dropped. 

It must’ve shown on his face, because Sif noticed. “What?” she said.

He hesitated, but it occurred to him that while Sif hadn’t registered it as more than an odd coincidence, others would likely be more shrewd and draw the correct conclusions for very wrong reasons. He should have recognized how damning the timing looked, but these events were seven years old to him and fairly trivial compared to everything else that had happened, so it had slipped his mind. Deliberately hiding it now wasn’t going to do any good. “Loki was the one who showed the Jotnar the way to the Vault,” he said.

“What?” said Sif, horrified. “But that...that’s treason!”

“It would be,” said Thor, “if he’d done it on Jotunheim’s behalf, against the best interests of Asgard.” 

Sif frowned. “What other reason could anyone have for helping Frost Giants reach the Allfather’s Vault?”

“He didn’t think I was fit to be king, so he worked out a way to disrupt my coronation and expose my shortcomings. His motivations were entirely just, if not his methods. His loyalty was always to Asgard.” Even when that loyalty seemed to go in one direction, it never completely failed him.

“But you were only going to be regent,” said Sif. “Did he truly have that little faith in you, that he couldn’t let you sit on the throne for even the space of an Odinsleep?” 

“He knew my idea of what it was to be king better than anyone. Despite all Father had ever taught us, I wasn’t thinking of tending to the everyday needs of the people, of negotiating with existing allies or seeking new ones. I only imagined myself at the head of Asgard’s armies, leading the charge in glorious battle. Not that I would have been fit even for that much authority. I nearly got you, the Warriors Three, and Loki all killed when I led us to Jotunheim and picked a fight in the middle of Laufey’s court.”

Sif bit her lip. “You don’t think he was simply jealous? If he thought you so ill-suited to the throne, perhaps he believed he could do better.”

“I asked him if I should suggest as much to Father after I came back in time. He said that just because I finally understood how heavy my responsibilities are, it didn’t mean I could shove them onto him. He doesn’t want it, Sif.”

She nodded slowly. “You’ve given me so much to think on.”

Thor smiled. “Not the usual outcome of a conversation with me, is it?”

She rolled her eyes, but returned the smile and hopped down off the balustrade. “Will you join me? I’m going to meet with the Warriors Three for a little food and drink to celebrate our victory on Sakaar before the official festivities.”

“I would, and I thank you,” said Thor with regret, standing up straight. It sounded wonderful. “But there are too many plans to make and guests to attend to.” 

X

Loki’s efforts to persuade Eir to release him this evening had failed. He knew better than to attempt to slip out and leave a projection in his place, so he tried to content himself with the food that had been sent up from the kitchens on Thor’s request and one of the books he kept within easy reach in his dimensional pocket. He’d drawn back the heavy curtains now that night had fallen. The light from the stars was bright enough that he could have read by it with Aes eyes, but he hadn’t changed back yet. Eir thought it best to completely finish healing before doing any shapeshifting.

“You’re lucky.”

Loki raised an eyebrow at his guest and vanished the book. The old Valkyrie livery didn’t quite match modern armor styles, but Brunnhilde was striking in it all the same. If she hadn’t already seen him at his very worst, he’d feel more uncomfortable about his current state of dress and his unruly hair. “Why is that?”

“I have enough self-restraint not to break a man’s jaw while he’s lying in a sickbed.” She walked closer and stole the remaining roll off the platter beside his cot.

“Have I done something to offend you?”

She gave him a flat look while she began tearing pieces off the roll, dipping them in the small jar of honey, and eating them.

He gave up the pretense of not knowing what she meant. “You didn’t seem too bothered by the prospect of being hauled off to Thanos. Is Asgard so much worse than that?”

“If Maw had left Sakaar with us, that wouldn’t have been me leaving under my own power.”

“Then I fail to see the problem,” said Loki. “You didn’t leave under your own power. I kidnapped you.”

“Yes, a dying man who needed me to hold him on his feet kidnapped me back to my home world. Very convincing.” She stuffed the rest of the roll into her mouth and reached for his flagon of cider to wash it down. Her table manners were about as good as Volstagg’s.

“Who must you convince?” said Loki, narrowing his eyes. He was getting closer to what she was hiding now. He could feel it. “I can be very persuasive if you need me to be.” Heat rose in his cheeks and he immediately wished he hadn’t been so candid, but her eyes softened.

“Still trying to save me, your highness?”

“One of us should.” 

She set the flagon down and turned away, facing the window and the stunning view of the city it offered. There was a long silence. He waited, watching her. He noticed the scroll tied at her hip. So she’d already met with Father, and it must have gone well. 

“I never thought I’d see this place again.”

At the risk of forfeiting his sickbed immunity from violence on her part, Loki ignored the soreness in his limbs and what remained of his wounds and pushed himself up off the cot to join her by the window. 

“Did you miss it?”

She snorted. “Miss it? I tried to forget it,” she said. “But sometimes…”

“What?”

“Sometimes I dreamed of racing above the tops of the buildings with Svinnavoengr.”

There was pain in her voice. Loki had read of the bonds the Valkyrior shared with their winged mounts. It wasn’t merely skill in battle that had made them the most elite force in Asgard’s armies. 

“Tell me who you need saving from, Brunnhilde,” he said, catching her hands in his. “Please.”

“Your words can’t help me, Silvertongue,” she said. “Nothing can. If I had any sense, I’d go straight back to Sakaar. The way time flows there, it might be like I never left.”

“Why don’t you, then?” said Loki. 

She looked up into his eyes, before her gaze flitted to his lips. Everything stretched out, like the moment of suspended animation that comes between the leap and the fall. He leaned down and kissed her.

X

Sif could’ve gone straight to the feast hall to meet Fandral, Hogun, and Volstagg, but she had set out to wish Loki well and dammit, she was going to follow through on that. She hoped that seeing him in person would help everything she and Thor had discussed settle into place. She also hoped that Loki wouldn’t make her regret it. He had a tendency to mistrust well-wishes, always looking for ulterior motives. 

One of the apprentice healers pointed her to Loki’s room, and she marched right to the door. She opened it quietly in case Loki was asleep and slipped inside, then froze. Silhouetted against a breathtaking view of the evening sky were Loki, still in Jotun form, and none other than Commander Brunnhilde Sigursdottir, dressed in full Valkyrie armor, hair done in battle braids. They were kissing passionately, Brunnhilde’s fingers buried in Loki’s black curls, his arms tight around her waist.

Sif let out a squeak of utter bewilderment, and the second prince and the last Valkyrie jumped apart.

“What the Hel!” said Brunnhilde. “Don’t you knock? What are you doing here?”

“I, er, just came to wish Loki well,” said Sif, staring from one of them to the other. She wanted to sink into the floor. When had this happened? She’d stumbled across Fandral in such a compromising position more times than she could count, including once just last week with the mortal maiden, but never Loki. And now she’d made a nuisance of herself to the woman she idolized. 

“Thank you, Sif, I am very well,” said Loki loudly, “and your timing is only marginally less dreadful than my brother’s.”

“I’m so sorry,” said Sif. “I’ll go.”

“Why bother?” said Brunnhilde. “We aren’t getting that moment back, and I’m starving.” 

Loki ran a hand over his face. 

“Oh, w-well I was just about to head to the feast hall anyway,” said Sif.

“Can I get drunk there?” said Brunnhilde.

“Of—course?”

“Good. I’ll go with you.”

Chapter Text

Asgardians, as a rule, were not the most discreet of conversationalists. If something was worth discussing, it was worth discussing in a carrying voice over a tankard of ale (which invariably ended up shattered on the floor, if the feast hall was doing its job right). As such, there was a lot for Fandral to overhear as he made his way through The King’s Spear to the more secluded table that was always set aside for the Crown Prince and his friends. 

“He’s not nearly large enough to be all Frost Giant, so whose bastard do you reckon he is? His or hers?”

“Got to be hers, right? She was with child at the end of the war, everyone knows that.”

“Naw, Odin’s no fool. He wouldn’t make him a prince if he wasn’t his son.”

“Well they already had a proper son, so maybe he saw no harm in legitimizing a bastard who would never rule anyway.”

“You shouldn’t impugn the honor of our queen so!”

“Who said anything about her honor? She wouldn’t have had to be willing.”

That brought an uneasy silence for a moment, before someone else interjected.

“The lot of you are talking nonsense. We know how much Loki loves his tricks. That’s all this is. He can’t really be a Frost Giant, all or part.”

“But where’s the joke this time? He does have a queer sense of humor, that one, but what’s funny about sending the whole realm into an uproar of speculation when it only looks bad for him?” 

“I figure it’s all part of a plot. Think of it. The Frost Giants took the real second prince and put one of their own in his place. They probably did it recently. Loki’s always going off where he shouldn’t. My cousin worked in the palace when the princes were lads and he told me. He’d have been easy to capture. How else do you explain what happened at Prince Thor’s coronation?”

“Don’t be an idiot. You think the king and queen wouldn’t have noticed a Frost Giant changeling in place of their son?”

“Aye, and those brutes couldn’t have pulled that one over on all of us when we have the Gatekeeper and Hlidskjalf.”

“You shouldn’t underestimate them; they gave us a war that lasted decades, after all. Who knows what strange magics they have at their disposal?”

Fandral took his usual seat, which faced away from the rest of the hall. One of the maids was quick to supply him with food and drink, an eager gleam in her eye. He thanked her and picked up his knife and fork, at which her face fell into a pout and she left to attend to other patrons with a swish of skirts. 

This was what he’d wanted, wasn’t it? For Asgard to know the truth about its second prince? That was why he’d tweaked the transporter’s destination by a few miles. If enough people saw, then rumors would spread, and the Allfather would have no choice but to give his people an explanation that was long overdue. 

Hogun was next to reach The King’s Spear. It was always hard to tell with him, but he looked troubled as he slid into his usual seat. He glanced at Fandral, then over his shoulder at the nearest occupied table, where a debate like the one Fandral had passed by was still going strong. The maid returned with Hogun’s meal, her back firmly to Fandral. He grimaced, but didn’t feel like smoothing things over with her at the moment.

Not one but three maids accompanied Volstagg when he arrived, each carrying a platter of steaming food. He was every establishment’s favorite customer. He was personal friends with all of the cooks, gave them advance notice of his arrival, and complimented them well when he left. They were always ready for him. He thanked the girls heartily when they laid it all out on the table, but still didn’t seem quite his usual cheery self. 

After the maids had departed, he speared a sausage on his fork and leaned closer. “Are they all talking about what I think they’re talking about?” 

“The origins of our dear prince?” said Fandral. He took a swig from his tankard. “That they are.”

“How did they find out?”

“The second transporter landed in a crowded square,” said Hogun.

The corners of Volstagg’s mustache drooped. “By the Norns,” he said. “That’s not good.”

A commotion broke out near the entrance then, and the talk grew louder and more excited.

“That armor—is she...?”

“Did other Valkyrior survive, or is it just her?”

Fandral turned around in his seat. The dark-skinned warrior from the horrid ship on Sakaar had just walked in beside Sif. She’d already looked beautiful before, but she was absolutely stunning in Valkyrie blue and white. Sif was glaring at some of the chattering patrons, but the Valkyrie had the same expression of bored irritation she’d worn during the ride to the palace.

“This can’t be a coincidence,” one man was saying. “She reappears the same day we learn of the Frost Giant posing as our prince?” 

“You’re right!” said a woman sitting near him. “She was even in the square with him!”

“Are you here to foil Jotunheim’s plot?” someone called at the Valkyrie.

She scowled. “What I’m here for is a bloody drink. Do they have any of those in this place, or do they only serve bullshit gossip?” She moved towards the polished bar.

“Wait, don’t you want to sit with us?” said Sif.

“I came to drink, not get chummy,” said the Valkyrie without looking back at her.

Sif deflated a little but headed for the table anyway.

“So,” said Fandral. “The lovely Valkyrie. Brunnhilde, did you call her? What do you reckon my chances are?”

“Of getting a hand or something else lopped off?” said Sif. “Very high, I would say.”

Fandral put a hand to his chest as though deeply wounded. “Why, Sif,” he said in mock reproach, “I would’ve thought I could count on a little support from my dear friend!”

She rolled her eyes. “When have I ever helped you seduce anyone? And even if I did, it is exactly because I’m your dear friend that I’m telling you true. You’re not her type.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he laughed. “I’m everyone’s type.” He frowned, his tankard pausing halfway to his face. “Wait, how would you know what her type is when we both only met her a few hours ago?”

Sif’s cheeks went pink and she sank an inch or so in her seat. “Because I forgot to knock,” she ground out. Volstagg chortled around a leg of lamb, and she shot him and Fandral each a stern look. “But it’s none of my affair, let alone yours. Leave off.”

A maid brought her food, and she thanked her and began to eat. Every other bite or so, she’d have a glare for someone else at a nearby table, but it took about five or six before she finally gave voice to her irritation. “Can you believe what they’re saying? To suggest such things about our king and queen!” 

Perhaps if our king and queen didn’t want such things suggested about them, they might’ve told their people the truth, Fandral thought. 

“They could be more polite,” said Volstagg with a distasteful glance towards the recipients of Sif’s glares. “But you must admit, it is a strange circumstance, and not one any of us expected.”

“You could say that,” said Fandral.

“What happened when your transporter reached Asgard?” said Hogun, looking from Sif to Fandral and back.

“The people in the square were shocked and confused,” said Sif. “Loki could barely stand, and Brunnhilde and I helped him—” 

“Did his skin not burn you when you touched it?” Volstagg interrupted. “Or were you careful to avoid it?”

“It didn’t burn,” said Sif. “Maybe it...but no.” She trailed off, glancing over at Brunnhilde with a frown and a bit of a wrinkled nose. “I suppose it only burns when they want it to.” She waved a hand. “Thor caught up to us and flew off with him to the palace.” Her expression grew very cross. “I would think that the people would have remembered that part before they started spreading all these rumors about how he must be some Jotun spy.”

“Can we be certain he’s not?” said Fandral from behind his tankard. The other three stared at him. 

“Fandral, don’t be absurd,” said Sif. “You heard Thor on Sakaar. Loki’s adopted, that’s all.”

“And that’s not absurd?” said Fandral. “Why would the Allfather want to raise one of them as his son after what they did to Asgard?”

“Loki didn’t do any of that,” said Volstagg. “He was a baby!”

“Yes, and now he’s an adult Frost Giant, much like the ones who sneaked into Gladsheim and nearly made off with the Casket of Ancient Winters.”

“It is difficult to imagine them making it so far without help,” said Hogun slowly. “I’m not Asgardian, and my allegiance is to my realm first. Perhaps it is the same for Loki, except that where Vanaheim and Asgard are the closest of allies, Asgard and Jotunheim would need little prodding to resume hostilities.”

Sif shook her head. “I spoke with Thor at the palace before I came here. He said the first time he lived through this, it nearly destroyed Loki to learn the truth of his heritage. One of Thor’s greatest concerns in altering the course of time was to see that Loki felt the support of his family when it came out so that he could make peace with it. His loyalty is still to Asgard, no matter where he comes from.”

“Thor said Loki was adopted, did he?” said Volstagg. “I wonder what happened to the other baby.”

“What other baby?” said Hogun.

“Sometimes I forget how many centuries I have on you lot,” said Volstagg. “The Aesir-Jotnar war happened when I was a lad. I remember well the final year year of it, when Asgard was anticipating the arrival of the second royal child. There were betting pools at every mead hall whether we would have a prince or a princess. I even saw Queen Frigga in the grand banquet hall at the palace a few times. She was radiantly happy and definitely pregnant, and little Thor kept toddling around faster than his nursemaids could catch him, telling everyone that he was going to be a big brother.” He smiled fondly at the thought, but it quickly slipped and his brow furrowed. “I’d almost prefer to believe this nonsense they’re all spouting about him being a bastard, because if he isn’t, then what happened to the baby Asgard was waiting for?”

Volstagg being the only member of their group with children of his own, Fandral wasn’t surprised his thoughts would tend in that direction, and it was a chilling question. Hogun must’ve been thinking the same thing, for he said, gravely, “A royal infant doesn’t just disappear.”

None of this was what Fandral wanted to discuss. “Is none of you concerned about what all of this could mean?”

“All of what?” said Volstagg, now slathering a thick slice of bread with preserves.

Fandral raised his thumb. “Frost Giants successfully infiltrate the Vault.” He put up his index finger. “Loki is revealed to be a Frost Giant.” Middle finger. “Thor, contrary to everything he has ever said, doesn’t care about his ruined coronation and begins to speak of making an ally of Jotunheim.” Ring finger. “And the person who assured us all that Thor is still himself, despite being so changed? Loki.”

“He said it himself,” said Hogun, voice low. “‘What better way to engineer Ragnarok than by replacing or taking control of the Crown Prince?’” 

“Exactly!” said Fandral, slapping the table. “Who else do we know with the skills to do such a thing?”

“Come now, you two can’t really think Loki wants to bring about Ragnarok!” said Volstagg. “Why would he have gone with Thor on missions to gain allies and thwart the plans of our enemies if that was what he wanted?”

Hogun frowned.

“Loki hasn’t fiddled with Thor’s mind,” said Sif. Where Volstagg spoke with a slight hesitancy, as though he wasn’t fully convinced of what he was saying, Sif’s tone was entirely flat. “Are you suggesting that Thor’s entire account of living through the coming years and returning to the present is a fiction of Loki’s making? How do you explain his detailed knowledge of so many mortals, which has proven to be true? Or of Sakaar, to which none of us had ever traveled? Of the Dark Elves still alive and awaiting the right advantage to attack? Surely there are simpler lies to tell than this.”

“I’m only suggesting it,” said Fandral. “I can’t be sure of anything, but don’t you think it’s possible? At least as possible as, oh, time travel?”

“No,” said Sif, folding her arms. “Thor trusts Loki, and I trust Thor. Besides, you saw the same thing I did in the healing room. Whether he shares blood with them or not, our king and queen see him as their own, and by law the king is free to choose his heirs.”

“But they lied to us!” said Fandral, starting to lose patience. “They lied to all of Asgard. Don’t you think we deserve to know to whom we swear our oaths? To what we swear them? I doubt many would have been so eager to do it had they known that not only was he not Odin’s blood, but a Frost Giant.”

“Now, Fandral, can you blame them?” said Volstagg in the voice of a disappointed father delivering a gentle but well-deserved scolding, which Fandral did not appreciate. “If I thought one of my children was to have a reception like this for something he couldn’t help, perhaps I would have kept it secret too.”

“We swore our oaths to a prince of Asgard,” said Sif. “To the boy we grew up with. Our friend.”

“Yes,” said Fandral, “the boy who takes great delight in turning us into animals to humiliate us, and who cut off your hair out of spite. A faithful friend indeed.”

“Trivial things,” said Sif, and Fandral almost thought he’d misheard. He well remembered Sif’s feelings of betrayal and devastation when she discovered her missing hair. She had not thought it trivial then. The thrashing she’d given Loki on the training grounds in retribution had certainly not been trivial either—in fact, it had been what finally persuaded the swordmaster to take her on as a proper student. “He’s also risked his life to save ours. He just did it again to save Thor’s, and he endured torture to protect Asgard!” 

“She’s right,” said Volstagg, “I think the prince has earned better than to be the subject of backbiting from people so close to him. These wild rumors are bad enough. I hope the Allfather will put them to rest at the banquet tomorrow.”

Fandral gritted his teeth. He looked to Hogun for support. The Vanr shook his head. Doubt niggled at the back of Fandral’s mind, but he was too frustrated with the situation to pay it much heed. How were they not more disturbed by what had been hidden from them? He stood up from his seat, heedless of what remained of his meal, and forced a smile. “Well then, if you’ll all excuse me, there’s a certain mortal who I’m sure would love to hear of my feats of bravery and swordsmanship on Sakaar.”

He left before they could say anything else. On the way out, he spotted Brunnhilde at the bar, downing an entire bottle of the establishment’s signature voda. He briefly considered ignoring Sif’s advice about her, but then he saw that the Dragonfang was out of its sheath, buried point down in the surface of the bar. Everyone but the barman was giving her a wide berth and the tables nearest to her seemed strangely quiet. Fandral decided to cut his losses.

Chapter Text

Loki didn’t normally sleep late. Or wake up early, for that matter. Either he went to bed and woke at reasonable hours or he read through the entire night. The latter, to the chagrin of his mother, was not uncommon. He was somewhat surprised, therefore, to find that it was close to midday when he woke in his private room in the healing hall dormitories. The remaining aches and soreness were gone, and he felt as hale as he had before Sakaar. Better, even. It shouldn’t be possible for his mood to be this good when he knew what people all across the realm would be talking about right now. 

A smile played about his lips, and the kiss replayed in his mind. He wondered where Brunnhilde had spent the night. Perhaps he would make Sif tell him the last place she saw her, just to watch her squirm. Really the interruption had almost been worth it to see her so mortified.

He reached out a hand for the Casket of Ancient Winters and scooped it into his dimensional pocket, then shifted back into his Aes form. The curtains fell away from the window at a wave of his hand. Almost immediately afterward, a raven swooped down and perched on the sill, where he tilted his head to the side and croaked.

“Yes, Munin, I’m feeling much better,” said Loki. 

Munin bobbed his head and let out a series of shorter croaks. 

“If Eir will release me, I’ll be right there.”

The bird stayed put long enough for Loki to scratch lightly at the beard of feathers under his beak. He gave Loki’s finger an affectionate nip and took flight again, arcing upward through the air to reach the king’s study.

X

Natasha and Clint stepped out of the flying boat before Thor and walked into the Bifrost Observatory. 

“Good morning, Heimdall!” said Thor, beaming.

“Good morning my prince, Agent Barton, Agent Romanoff.”

“We have need of your services,” said Thor. 

“This isn’t protocol at all,” Clint muttered. Then, in a normal voice, he said, “How close can you get me to my farm in Missouri?”

“Within one mile,” said Heimdall.

Clint winced. “And you already know where it is. Alright, let’s do this. Wait—is this thing safe for human kids to go in?”

“Far safer than mortal conveyances,” said Heimdall. “You have nothing to fear.”

Heimdall turned the huge sword in the plinth and the entire Observatory began to spin around them on massive gears. There was a split second when all the air seemed to be sucked out of it, and then the beam of light burst out.

Natasha smirked at Clint. “See you in a bit.”

“Don’t pretend you’re already used to this, Romanoff,” he said, and walked into the light. 

Heimdall held the sword for a moment, then pulled it up. The light ceased and the Observatory spun back to its neutral position. 

“And you?” he said.

“Can you see Agent Phil Coulson?” said Natasha. “He was one of the—”

“He was sent north this morning,” said Heimdall. “A group of researchers stumbled across something unexpected in the lower arctic and SHIELD is sending a team to respond.”

Natasha looked around at Thor, who was doing his spastic puppy impression again. “Is it Captain Rogers? Have they found him?”

“I believe so,” said Heimdall.

If Natasha had any remaining doubts that everything Thor had told them about traveling through time was true, this eliminated them. “Doesn’t seem like a great time to invite Coulson to a fancy party,” she said. 

Thor’s excitement faltered. “No, perhaps not,” he said. “Another time, then. Would you still like to return to Earth?” 

X

Loki walked into the study, where he found Odin waiting for him in the alcove with the hnefatafl table and a platter of bread, fruit, and cheese. 

“Attack or defend?” said Odin.

“Defend,” said Loki, taking his seat opposite his father. It was a very familiar feeling despite how long it had been (over a century?) since they last played the game. They began setting out the pieces, with Odin’s attackers around the perimeter of the board and Loki’s defenders grouped in the center around the king. Once in place, Loki’s pieces flashed green and gold, Odin’s gold and bronze.

A vivid memory caught him, of Frigga working on the loom and an adolescent Thor wrestling with the wolves down by the fire while Loki and Odin played a game. Frigga had helped Loki distract Odin so he could swap out some of the pieces on the board when he wasn’t looking, and they had all laughed. The ruse hadn’t really been necessary; Loki won at least one in three of the games they played fair and square, but that one had been the most fun. 

“You are well, truly?” said Odin. He flicked a finger, and one of the attackers shot forward two squares.

“Yes,” said Loki. He began setting up a feint towards the corner by his left hand, sending one piece to venture out from the center. “Between the Casket and Eir’s tyrannical care, I am fully mended.”

Odin chuckled. “You never did like being fussed over.” Another of the attackers moved closer to Loki’s small huddle of pieces. “I’ve had Thor’s account of Sakaar. I’d like to hear yours.”

Pieces flew across the board as Loki talked. He managed to capture a few of the attackers Odin let creep too close, only losing one of his defenders so far.

“It seems I owe the lives of both my sons to Lady Gerd’s frjosleikr lessons,” said Odin when Loki finished. “You did very well.”

Loki captured another piece and smirked. “Thank you.” All was nearly in place for him to begin moving his king towards escape at the corner.

“I’m sure you’re aware of the rumors by now,” said Odin.

“Hardly a surprise,” said Loki.

“Hugin has been bringing them to me like shiny baubles from a riverbed. I think my favorite is the one where Frost Giants murdered my real son in his crib and left you in his place. What a low opinion they must have of Frigga’s and my powers of perception to think we have failed to notice for so long, and what a high opinion of the cunning of the Jotnar, to think them capable of such deceit and schemes from infancy.”

He said it with amusement, but Loki scowled.

“Or perhaps I prefer the one where Frigga had a torrid affair with a Jotun soldier behind my back and crafted a disguise for the resulting child so all would believe he was mine.” 

If Loki found whoever had started that one, it would not be pleasant for him. 

“Yes, there is a growing expectation that I intend to have the pair of you carted off to the dungeons or the headsman during the feast.”

“I had better get my affairs in order, then,” said Loki dryly.

“It will only grow worse from here, I’m afraid,” said Odin. He was tightening the formation around Loki’s forces. “We will need to put an end to them tonight.”

“What will you do, have the offenders publicly flogged?” Or perhaps just make them forget, like he had with Hela.

“Certainly not,” said Odin. “I will tell them the truth.”

The piece Loki was moving flew off the board entirely, knocking two others over on the way. He hastily righted them and replaced his own piece. He resisted the impulse to note aloud that this was unfamiliar territory for Odin. “How will that help?” he asked instead.

“It helped you,” said Odin. He moved a piece, flanking one of Loki’s and capturing it. “This should have been your decision to make, but we no longer have that luxury. The explanation must come from me. The people will see the entire House of Odin united, and they will accept it.” 

Loki had his doubts about that, even after what Thor had said, which was why he had been hoping to avoid the whole feast. Evidently that would not be possible. He took his turn, trying not to seem petulant. He should feel more gratified that Odin was so determined to get the people’s support for him, but all he could do was dread the moment he had to sit in front of all of them and feel their eyes on him like he was some exotic oddity at best, dangerous threat at worst. 

“Commander Brunnhilde should be there too. At the high table,” said Odin. He captured another of Loki’s pieces, but it opened up room for Loki to move his king towards a different corner. “Her involvement on Sakaar will help to solidify your position.”

Because the last person anyone would expect to side with the adopted Frost Giant would be a Valkyrie. “Assuming she attends.”

“See to it that she does. I believe you and she already have something of a rapport?” Odin gave nothing away with his tone, but Loki cast an illusion to stop the old man seeing the pink tinge warming his cheeks just to be safe. “You’ll find her at The King’s Spear. She took a room there for the night and hasn’t left yet.”

Loki was rarely bothered by Odin’s ability to collect specific information on just about anyone or anything within Yggdrasil—at least when it wasn’t directed at him. This, however, made him uncomfortable. “She’s not a piece on this board for you to maneuver, Father.”

“I will not relinquish any advantage that will protect my family,” he said firmly. “I do not expect her to make a speech, only to be present. It will be to her benefit as well as yours.” An attacker closed on Loki’s king. “Now, you will not be the only topic of discussion at the feast, nor the most pressing. I have spoken to the Council, and it is time for us to move forward on several other matters.”

X

Missouri

“Cooper, Lila, come down!” Laura called. “It’s time for lunch!” She’d spent most of the morning weeding the garden while the kids played in the treehouse. On the days Cooper didn’t insist on playing Jedis, they usually pretended to be secret agents. She wasn’t sure which one it was today until she saw them from the kitchen window. They kept ducking behind things and giggling as they made their way closer to the house, and there was no lightsaber in sight. 

They reached the back door, took off their shoes, and stepped inside. 

“Agent Cooper Barton, ready to debrief!” 

“Princess Fairy Wings, ready to debeef!”

“No, Lila, we’re secret agents. You can’t be a fairy princess and a secret agent.”

“But I wanna be a fairy princess,” said Lila. 

“What was your secret mission today?” said Laura, fighting to maintain a straight face.

Cooper squinted so much his eyes were almost completely shut and jutted out his chin. “What’s your clearance level, Agent Mommy?”

“...Six?” said Laura, sliding golden-brown grilled cheese sandwiches onto their plates.

Cooper shook his head. “Too low. It’s classified.” He headed for his chair, but Laura held up a finger.

“What did you forget?”

“Mooom, secret agents don’t need to wash their hands.”

“I don’t know,” she said, “seems like leaving dirty handprints everywhere would be a great way to blow your cover.”

Cooper frowned, plainly struggling to think of a way around that one. When he didn’t manage to, she ruffled his hair. “Go wash up before your grilled cheese gets cold.”

Both kids ran off to the bathroom in the hallway. The back door creaked again, and Laura looked around. Her heart leapt. “Clint! You’re back already!”

He didn’t say anything, but walked straight to her, wrapped his arms around her, and kissed her hard. She reciprocated gladly, but a warning bell went off in the part of her brain that was still capable of coherent thought. This was how Clint acted when he came home from long, dangerous missions, but he’d only been gone a couple of days this time.

“Is everything okay?” she asked when he broke off the kiss and buried his face in her neck, still holding on tight.

“Yeah,” he said. “I missed you.”

She felt a slight bump on the back of his neck. When she prodded at it, he winced. 

“Careful there. It’s still sore.”

“What is it?”

“Part of a long story.” He pulled back, his hands sliding down to cup her forearms near the elbows. “Short version?” A silly, boyish grin broke out over his face. “I’ve been to two different planets. I mean, kind of. The nicer one isn’t a whole planet.”

She scrutinized him for any hint that he was messing with her. There was none. Her mouth fell open. “Wh—is this about Thor and Loki?”

“Yep. Fury sent me and Nat to Asgard. We were just supposed to check in with Foster, Selvig, and Banner and do some recon about the Asgardians to see if their stories hold up, but Thor pulled us into a mission to this other planet where we took out a warlord’s army and freed a bunch of slaves, and tonight we’re getting honored at a big banquet at the palace. They made us fancy outfits for it and everything, and they said I could invite my family. So whaddaya say pretty lady, wanna come to space with me?” He kissed her again and twirled her out and back to his chest.

“Come...to space?”

“It’s beautiful, Laura. You and the kids would love it. It’s like something out of a fairytale, and the food’s really good.”

Laura was struggling to process all this. It was rare for Clint to get so excited about something that he acted like a little kid. She’d been off SHIELD active duty for years now, but the longer he stayed in, the more grim cynicism seemed to creep over his heart. It was so gradual that it had taken a couple years before she noticed, and he loved what he did and believed in it, but she worried about that almost as much as she worried about him coming home in one piece. Consequently, she didn’t think she could deny him any source of happiness, even one as crazy as this. “Is it safe?”

“Yeah,” he said. “And it’s just for the evening.”

“Daddy!” Two small bodies came pelting across the kitchen and collided with them, and Clint turned to catch Cooper and Lila in his arms and lift them into the air. 

“Hey babies,” he said, kissing them each on the cheek. “You been good for your mama?” 

“We’re playing secret agents,” said Cooper. 

“What’s your clearance level?” said Lila, making a fierce face that looked more like a pout.

Laura watched them, still trying to comprehend what Clint had told her. Eventually, the kids remembered that lunch was sitting on the table, and they sat down to eat their mostly cold sandwiches. Laura gave hers to Clint and turned back to the stove to make a new one and a set of seconds, working on autopilot. 

She looked up at the sky through the window. She hadn’t thought much about other planets, let alone visiting them, since she was a little girl playing in the “rocket ship” she and her brothers had made out of the big cardboard box the washing machine came in. She brought the fresh sandwiches to the table and sat down. “So how would this work? Do we need to pack anything?”

Clint sat up straighter in his chair, his eyes lighting up again. “No, we just have to go on a little hike. They’ll have everything we need up there.”

She nodded. She looked at the kids. Lila was taking excruciatingly tiny nibbles of her sandwich (a habit she’d developed out of nowhere recently and which Laura hoped to cure her of soon) and Cooper was slurping the juice out of his bowl of sliced pears. “What do you guys think, wanna go on a trip?” 

X

Asgard

Brunnhilde had forgotten how good the drinks were on Asgard. The swill you could get on Sakaar might be able to get you drunk faster, but Asgardians had elevated the distilling, brewing, and fermenting processes to art forms several millennia ago. The drinks they so lovingly crafted were the sort you drank while laughing with friends. The sort that gave you a nice, warm feeling inside. So for Brunnhilde, it was very strange to down pint after pint for the express purpose of wallowing, indulging in self-loathing, and trying to forget that at least one capricious immortal likely already knew she wasn’t where she was supposed to be. 

A few drinks after she lost count (and the ability to count), when the place had mostly cleared out, the freckly, plump matron had come to firmly steer her to one of the rooms they had on the second level. She hadn’t objected, but flopped right on the bed and slept like a rock. 

A blinding beam of sunlight woke her up in the morning. She felt vaguely numb all over and her head was fuzzy. It took a moment or two to remember where she was and why. When she did, she wanted another drink. She made a cursory effort to tidy herself up before heading back down to the hall. She barely had time to take a seat when a platter of food and a tankard were being set before her. It was the matron again. 

“Thanks,” she muttered.

“I’ve seen that look in a warrior before,” said the woman with a gentle tsk. She had a very motherly way about her, and she spoke in Asgardian, not Allspeak. “I hope you’re taking care of yourself, now.” She patted Brunnhilde’s shoulder and bustled off behind the bar. For some reason, Brunnhilde felt her throat closing up. Why was everyone on this realm, from the king to a random bar matron, trying so hard to tell her she still belonged here? Worse, why did she want it to be true?

“Good morning.” 

She turned and saw an unfamiliar man approaching. She narrowed her eyes, but a line of green-gold light spread over him and then it was Loki standing there. “Hey,” she said, turning to the platter of food and loading up her fork with sausage and potato. He sat down across from her and stole one of her tomatoes, then gave her a look that dared her to complain. The lump in her throat loosened, and she found herself smirking.

“You got rid of the curls,” she observed. 

“Yes, I wanted to be more presentable.”

“That’s too bad.”

He blushed, and her smirk widened. 

“This is going better than the last time we were in a bar together.” 

He grimaced. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. My father sent me to find you.”

A dull feeling of resignation washed over her. “What does he want?” 

“For me to persuade you to come to the feast tonight and sit at the high table with us and the House of Freyr.” 

“Norns,” she muttered, reaching for the tankard. Loki’s hand caught hers before it could get there. 

“He doesn’t have to get what he wants,” he said. “Don’t go.”

Brunnhilde looked at him. “He’s going to use me to help legitimize you to the people, isn’t he? I heard what everyone else was talking about last night. That’s it, isn’t it?”

“That’s not the point. If he needs a prop or a symbol, he can find another one.”

“A better one?” 

He said nothing. 

She grabbed the tankard with her other hand and set about draining it. Judging by some of the things people had felt free to say last night, Loki’s position on Asgard was more precarious than her own. Part of that was Odin’s doing, with his fiction about a Frost Giant invasion that the Valkyrior died to stop. But that wasn’t Loki’s fault. 

She felt resolve hardening in her gut, the way it used to before a battle. She threw the empty tankard to the floor, where it shattered excellently, then shot him a hard look. “Save me a seat.”

Chapter Text

Fjolnir hadn’t been able to stay still all day. He was too excited about the banquet, and it was finally about to start. He was all dressed up in his nicest clothes and ready to go, but Freyr caught him before he could dash out of the door of their guest quarters. “Whoa there, little man. There’s something we need to talk about before we go down to the banquet hall.” He led Fjolnir over to sit on the edge of the bed.

Gerd turned away from the mirror and smilingly dismissed the maids who’d helped her with her braids, leaving the family alone in the room. She joined Freyr, and they both looked very serious. It made Fjolnir worry that he’d done something naughty, and he tried to remember what it might be.

“I know you’ve been looking forward to tonight,” said Gerd, smoothing the fabric of Fjolnir’s tunic (even though it was already smooth). “But it isn’t going to be quite the same as the welcome feast when we arrived. We want you to be ready for what you may see and hear.”

“Why?” said Fjolnir, confused. He’d thought he would just play with Leif some more, eat good food, and practice the Asgardian round dances he’d been trying to learn. “What’s going to happen?”

“The Allfather is going to explain to Asgard that he adopted Loki from Jotunheim,” said Freyr, crouching down so that he was at Fjolnir’s eye level. “We don’t know how the people are going to react.”

“However much you’ve enjoyed our time here, it’s important to understand that Asgard isn’t like Alfheim or even Vanaheim,” said Gerd. “The Vanir sometimes trade with Jotunheim, and the Ljosalfar have been helping skamrborn for thousands of years and they’re very protective of us, but the Aesir-Jotnar war was barely a generation ago. The people have very strong feelings about Jotunheim still.”

Fjolnir frowned. “But Prince Loki grew up here. He’s Asgardian even if he isn’t Aes, so why should it matter?”

“It shouldn’t,” said Freyr. “And if everyone possessed the good sense of a child, then I doubt it would.” He ruffled Fjolnir’s hair a little. “Alas, many grown men are fools.” 

“Even if they react poorly to what the Allfather says,” said Gerd, “try not to let it upset you. Always remember that hearts can be changed, and that is what the House of Odin wants our family’s help with.”

“I thought we were here to give Loki his frjosleikr lessons,” said Fjolnir.

“We are, but that is only the smaller of our tasks here,” she said. “This one is far more important.”

Fjolnir wasn’t sure he understood that, but he nodded.

X

Laura was going to get a crick in her neck soon from craning around to stare at everything. After the journey across the stars inside a pillar of light and the gentle flight through a golden city to the palace, she and the kids spent about an hour being fitted for fantasy clothing that was made of nicer material than anything she’d ever so much as touched before. Next, she and Lila sat to have their hair braided in ways she would never be able to reproduce at home. She suspected magic was involved. Once the nice servant woman declared Lila’s hair done and dress (magenta and gold, no armor pieces) finished, she danced around in her best imitation of some of the ballet forms Natasha had briefly taught her, giggling and telling Cooper smugly that she really was a fairy princess now. 

Cooper was slightly less pleased to be wearing a tunic, which seemed too close to a dress for him, but he livened up as soon as Clint told him he looked like a medieval knight. Clint certainly looked like one. The crisscrossing strips of material in his tunic also accentuated his muscles in very appealing ways. She was going to have to figure out how the thing came off.

Natasha joined them about then, also with braided hair and dressed in yards and yards of armor-accented crimson and dark gray fabric. She, like Clint, was in a very excitable mood, which was even rarer for her than it was for him. She couldn’t stop grinning, especially when she saw Cooper and Lila, and when Lila asked if her pretty dress would make it harder to fight, Natasha showed off the way her dress flowed around her when she did her acrobatic combat moves, somehow never tripping her up even though it was long enough to trail on the floor. It wasn’t the first time Laura was reminded with a pang that her friend had never really had the chance to be a little girl; she had often had the thought when she watched her throw herself into playing with the kids during her visits to the farm. 

X

The atmosphere in the grand banquet hall was different than it had been at any other feast Loki could remember. In place of the usual laughter and happy chatter and bustle, there were mutters and whispers as tens of thousands of people took their seats around the tables. A sense of restlessness pervaded the place, quite separate from his own nerves. He could feel countless pairs of eyes on him, and he tried to give no sign that he had noticed.

He couldn’t deny, though, that if there was an ideal setting in which to confront the kinds of rumors that had been flying across the realm for the last day and a half, it was probably this one. Any armor and weaponry that wasn’t mostly decorative had been left behind, people were dressed in their most comfortable finery, and everyone was looking forward to a lot of good food and fun. 

Loki stood with Thor and the mortals, who now included the awestruck wife and children of Agent Barton. Thor had the little girl on his shoulders and was pointing out features of the hall to them. 

Loki felt a tugging at his surcoat and looked down. Barton’s boy was staring up at him. “Can you really do magic?” he said. “Dad said you could.”

“Did he?” said Loki. He conjured a simulacrum, cloaked himself, and peeled off from it, then crept around to stand behind the child. 

“Can you show me?” he unwittingly asked the simulacrum.

“What did you have in mind?” said the real Loki as the copy dissolved and he dropped his cloak.

The boy jumped and spun around, a huge grin on his face. “Wow! That’s so cool! Can everyone here do that?”

“Very few have the skills or the patience to learn it.” He leaned in and held a hand up to block his words from Thor. “All my brother can do is make bad weather.”

“I heard that,” Thor grumbled.

“Because he’s the God of Thunder?” said the boy. “I read that in a library book.”

The sound of running feet made them turn. It was Fjolnir. Barton’s boy looked slightly relieved at the sight of another child. “Hullo,” said Fjolnir. “Thor said there would be more guests coming from Midgard. Is that where you’re from?”

“Uh, I’m from Missouri,” said the boy. “I’m Cooper.” He jerked his thumb up at his sister, then at his mother standing behind him. “That’s Lila, and that’s our mom.”

“I’m Fjolnir. I’m a guest at the palace too.”

“Are you an elf?” said Cooper. “You have pointy ears.”

“Sort of,” said Fjolnir. “Mama’s parents are Ljosalfar.” A clever way of misleading with the truth, Loki thought. He didn’t really wonder where humans had gotten the idea that elves had pointy ears. There were numerous hidden pathways between Alfheim and certain parts of Midgard, and he’d heard of at least one mortal stumbling his way across in the last century or so. Word would’ve gotten around. “I heard mortals grow up very quickly. Is it true?”

“It doesn’t feel very quick,” said Cooper, frowning. “It felt like a really long time to turn nine.”

Fjolnir gaped at him. “You’re nine?!”

“Yeah,” said Cooper. “Why, how old are you?”

“Nearly two hundred.”

“No way!"

“Yep,” said Fjolnir, grinning. “I’m gonna go find my friend Leif,” said Fjolnir. “Wanna come?”

“I don’t know,” said Lady Barton, putting a hand on Cooper’s shoulder with an apprehensive glance around the hall. “There are so many people here. I don’t want to lose track of you.”

“It will be my honor to see your son safely back to you, my lady,” said Fjolnir with a bow. 

“How gallant,” said Lady Barton, smiling. 

Fjolnir ducked his head bashfully. “I’ve learned my way around the palace pretty well, and we’ll be able to see you if you’re up at the high table.”  

“Leif is the son of our dear friend,” said Thor. “Volstagg and his wife are very good at looking after little ones, seeing as they have eight of their own. Cooper will be perfectly safe.”

“Okay,” said Lady Barton. “But be careful.”

Cooper and Fjolnir got a few steps away from the adults before the half-Vanr boy skidded to a halt and turned back. “I almost forgot!” He ran up to Loki. When he spoke again, it was in a stage whisper. “Mama and Papa told me what the Allfather’s going to say, and, well...” His brow creased with some combination of concern and frustration. He bit his lip, then threw his arms around Loki’s middle. Loki felt the weight of all the anxiety he was trying not to think about crash into him. He patted Fjolnir on the head. Fjolnir let him go, beamed at him, and dashed off to the second tier of tables with Cooper in tow. 

Thor’s hand came down heavy and reassuring on the back of Loki’s neck. “Fjolnir’s right,” he said.

“He didn’t say anything,” said Loki, throat tight.

“He didn’t have to.” Something caught his notice, and he dropped his hand, grinning. “Look who’s here.”

Loki turned and temporarily forgot how to breathe. Brunnhilde was approaching them in a Valkyrie’s formal banquet attire. The braided hairstyle had more ornamental flair tonight, and the dress consisted of long, billowing white and blue fabric with pale gold armor plating. It wasn’t identical to the old style Loki recalled from books; someone had clearly updated the cut of the cloth and the shape of the plates. The seamstresses and armorers must be just itching for the chance to do the same to the full Valkyrie armor, both battle and ceremonial.

He went to meet her before she could quite reach the group. “You look wonderful,” he murmured. He wanted to take her hand and hold onto it, but not with the whole realm watching, so he settled for raising it to his lips for a brief kiss and releasing it. It was a common enough polite greeting that it wasn’t likely to draw comment.

“Your curls are back,” she said.

“It seemed there were other perspectives on the subject that I hadn’t considered.” 

She laughed and looked at his hair like she wanted to run her fingers through it. He would have liked nothing better, but Odin chose that moment to get to his feet, and the hall began to quiet in a wave from the high table outward. 

The few people still standing made their way to their seats. Loki took his usual place on his mother’s left, and Brunnhilde took the empty seat on his other side. The high table curved at the top of the hall, with the royal family at the center and their guests towards the ends. The House of Freyr, due to their family ties to Frigga, were on Loki’s end, as well as the mortal scientists. The four aliens they’d liberated from Maw’s control were on Thor’s end of the table, but Romanoff, Barton, and Barton’s family were in the seats closest to Thor. He could see the brown and blond hair of Cooper Barton and Fjolnir among the gaggle of red and auburn-headed children between Volstagg and Hildegund at the second tier, where also sat the Council members and their families and other important nobles and friends of the royal family, like Sif, Hogun, and Fandral.

Frigga leaned over to Loki and kissed him on the cheek, then gave a warm smile and a nod to Brunnhilde, who nodded back awkwardly.

Odin spread his arms wide, and his voice boomed out over the vast hall. “My family and I welcome you all to Gladsheim this fine evening,” he said. “Thank you, Thor, for ensuring it was that.” 

Thor raised his tankard with a grin, and there was a rumble of laughter. Loki wondered when they were going to tire of that joke.

“We have much to celebrate,” Odin went on. “After overcoming great perils, my sons have returned from an urgent quest beyond the borders of Yggdrasil, where time itself was among their enemies. They triumphed not only because of their strength, skills, and wits, but thanks to the help of Lady Sif and the Warriors Three.” He gestured towards them, and they raised their tankards and bowed their heads. “And also the mortals Natasha Romanoff and Clint Barton, as well as one whom I have long believed lost to Asgard: Commander Brunnhilde Sigursdottir of the Valkyrior.”

The volume of the whispers that broke out was so loud that the hall seemed caught in a strong wind, and many benches scraped the floor as people stood, trying to get a better look at Brunnhilde. Her face was very blank, and she stared at a point over the heads of the crowd. Loki’s stomach twisted. She needn’t have subjected herself to this. 

He turned back to face his father. The people of Asgard loved a good story almost as much as they loved a fight, and Odin gave them one. “Unbeknownst to them, their enemies found them the moment they arrived. The alien sorcerer laid a trap for Prince Loki and Commander Brunnhilde. Loki sacrificed his only chance to escape it to ensure that it wasn’t fatal when it closed around Brunnhilde. The enemy took them to his ship, an abominable craft where the very seidr in their veins twisted against them.”

Many in the crowd made quiet sounds of horror, fully absorbed in the tale despite whatever they’d been expecting to hear tonight. Odin then briefly described Thor’s side of the story, which was the first Loki had heard of it. He gave special attention to the feats of Barton and Romanoff, but Loki was going to need to talk to his brother later. Thor, giving a revolutionary speech in the nameless tongue and driving a wedge between the two enemy factions? He wouldn’t have expected such subtle tactics from him.  

“The sorcerer turned the ship’s weapons on Thor, who continued to fight on the ground, unaware of the danger.” Thor had clearly still been unaware of it, for he stared at Odin. “Loki could not use his seidr and his strength was nearly gone, but he did have the power given him by his birth. The power all Jotnar have over ice.”

A good deal of muttering broke out at this. Odin allowed five seconds of it before slamming Gungnir into the floor. The sound reverberated through the hall, disproportionate to the amount of force he had used, and silence fell at once. “He is not well practiced in using it, but he was able to break his bonds, slay the evil sorcerer, and save Thor’s life. It may have cost him his own, if not for Brunnhilde defending him against the sorcerer’s guards and Eir’s excellent healing. The debt we owe them cannot be repaid.”

The volume of muttering crept back up. Odin gave it about fifteen seconds this time before he spoke again, his expression far more serious. “This banquet is not how I had planned to reveal my son’s blood lineage to my people. If word reaches Jotunheim that he was born of that realm, he may be in grave danger, for Laufey has wanted him dead from the moment he drew his first breath.” Any ongoing muttering abruptly cut off at this. “He nearly accomplished that terrible goal, but the Norns guided me to the place in Utgard where Loki had been left to die and helped me bring him safe to Gladsheim.” 

It was a good approach, Loki thought. Odin was not going on the defensive by acknowledging the rumors. Instead, he was honing the general ire towards the Jotnar as a species into something more targeted. Laufey was a child-murdering villain, and thus his victims were to be pitied even if they, too, were Jotnar. The fact that Loki was a Frost Giant was thereby reduced from something scandalous to something tragic, and adopting him became an act of mercy rather than madness. Crediting the Norns for his discovery of the abandoned baby was also brilliant. Relying on his own authority to give Loki legitimacy may have been enough, but only an absolute fool would dare question the Allfather when he invoked the weavers of destiny. 

Odin reached for Frigga, who put her hand in his. “Perhaps, in giving us this child, they thought to soothe the pain my queen and I were soon to feel, for the babe she delivered the day our armies returned home did not survive beyond an hour.” 

Shock and dismay dropped like a weight, every face Loki could see falling. Yes, let them think on that after all the foul theories they’d been bandying about.  

“Had our Baldur lived, you would have known Loki as his twin,” said Odin. “If only we could have been so fortunate. Instead of plunging our victorious realm into a time of mourning, we endured our grief in private so that all would believe Loki ours by blood. We were happy and proud to claim him as our own, and doing so was the best protection we could give him against Laufey.”

He glanced at Loki, and the fond look in his eye raised a lump in Loki’s throat. “Jotunheim’s loss in discarding a person so brilliant and talented cannot be overstated,” he went on, voice lower. “Nor can Asgard’s good fortune in gaining him. He is grown now and less in need of a mother and father’s protection, but I trust that all who love Asgard and what it represents would still wish to stand with us between him and one who seeks his blood, should the need arise.” Odin smiled. “However, he may die of mortification if I sing his praises any longer, so let us turn to other subjects.”

Loki raised his tankard to that, his eyes on his plate, and he was surprised when more than just his family, Brunnhilde, and the mortals laughed. It wasn’t the entire hall, to be sure, but it was significant.

“As I said before, Thor and Loki’s mission on Sakaar could not have succeeded without their mortal friends. As a mark of Asgard’s appreciation and as a symbol of the closer ties we hope to build with Midgard, we offer them these gifts.” Two Einherjar approached the high table where Barton and Romanoff sat, each carrying a finely decorated chest. One was long and thin and the other was closer to the size of a jewelry box.

“To Clint Barton, we present a bow and quiver worthy of an archer of his skill.” The long, thin chest opened to display a very fine weapon indeed. It closely resembled those used by the scouts of the Einherjar, though no mortal would be able to draw back the string of such a bow, so this must have been made specifically with Barton in mind. The quiver would likely interest Barton more than the actual bow, for Loki knew that it was imbued with spellwork to make it function like a dimensional pocket. Barton would be able to store as many arrows in it as he wanted without ever feeling their weight, along with the bow itself, and only he would be able to retrieve them. Additionally, no matter how full, the entire quiver could be reduced to the size of a small belt pouch when not in use.

“To Natasha Romanoff, we present an amulet of many faces. May her movements go unnoticed by her enemies as she works for the good of her people and our alliance.” The smaller box opened to reveal a delicate woven silver pendant with a ruby at the center. This was even more rare than the bow and quiver, though most Aesir would not appreciate it as much. It was of Ljosalfar make and enchanted to alter the appearance of the owner (and only the owner) according to her wishes. The changes would only be surface-level glamours and there was a limit to how often it could be used in a day to avoid permanently depleting it, but Loki was sure that a mortal spy with no magic of her own would find endless uses for it. 

A round of applause followed the presentation of the gifts, and the Einherjar set the chests on the table and withdrew.

“You may be wondering what quest could have taken your princes to a planet as remote as Sakaar—what quest would have led them to work alongside mortals for the first time in centuries,” said Odin. “It is a matter Asgard has left unattended for too long. Many among you are old enough to remember the war against the Mad Titan, Thanos.” 

The silence that accompanied mention of this name was different than what had pervaded the hall before now. It was both fiercer and more unified. Whether they were willing to accept Odin’s explanations about Loki or not, whether they agreed that a pair of mortals deserved these honors or not, the people of Asgard knew exactly how to feel about the Mad Titan. It would take very little to persuade them that it was time to assume a more offensive stance towards him.

“Two millennia have done nothing to heal his madness, and his ambition has only grown. He seeks what he has always sought: to destroy half of all life in the universe. There are planets in other galaxies where he has already succeeded.” Odin bared his teeth. “Asgard is the obstacle he must not overcome. By going to Sakaar, my sons have deprived him of a new army and two of his most powerful lieutenants. We have won this victory, but if we are to win the battles to come, we will need more allies, both within Yggdrasil’s branches and without. My people, we must be ready.” His expression and tone became softer, and he spread his arms again. “But tonight, our only task is to celebrate this initial victory. There is good food to be eaten, fine ale to be drunk, and merriment to be had. Get to it!”

Cheers echoed around the hall, feet stomped beneath tables, tankards raised everywhere, and the people gladly obeyed the command of their king. 

X

Fjolnir, Leif, and Cooper ate quickly, then slipped away from the table to go play behind the pillars at the edges of the hall. Fjolnir and Leif had to go slower to accommodate Cooper, and Lord Volstagg had warned them very sternly before they left that they were not to roughhouse with him because it would be too easy to do him a serious injury without meaning to. Fjolnir wasn’t sure what games that left them, but they would work something out. 

“Do you know how to do magic?” said Cooper. 

“Yeah,” said Fjolnir, grinning. “I’m not very good yet, but I’ve been studying for a few decades, and Mama helps me practice.” He noticed that Leif wasn’t standing with them anymore, but peering around a pillar towards the high table. “Oy, Leif!” he said. Leif didn’t seem to hear, so Fjolnir and Cooper went to stand next to him.

“What are you looking at?” said Cooper.

“He’s always looked just like an Aes,” said Leif. 

“Who, Prince Loki?” said Fjolnir. “He’s a shapeshifter. Mama says it’s one of the rarest talents in Yggdrasil. He’s so good at it that he didn’t even know he was doing it.”

“And he’s really a Frost Giant underneath,” said Leif. 

“What’s a Frost Giant?” said Cooper.

“They’re big, towering monsters with blood red eyes and skin made of ice,” said Leif, holding his arms over his head, curling his fingers like claws, and standing on tiptoe to make himself seem taller. “One touch is all it takes to freeze a full-grown warrior where he stands.”

Cooper laughed and dodged a swipe from Leif’s hand.

“That’s not true,” said Fjolnir, folding his arms.

“Of course it is,” said Leif. “It’s what everyone says.” He frowned. “But I suppose you don’t hear stories from the war if you live on Vanaheim.” He looked at Cooper. “I thought maybe you would have, being from Midgard. They tried to conquer it a thousand years ago, but Asgard stopped them.”

“But that’s not what Frost Giants are like!” said Fjolnir. He tried to remember what his parents told him about not getting upset, but it was harder than he’d thought it would be. He didn’t think Leif would be saying these things. “They’re not monsters. They’re people. They have families and they play games and sing and dance like everyone else, and they only freeze things they touch when they want to. They don’t just go around freezing everything they see.”

“How would you know?” Leif scoffed.

Fjolnir hesitated. He could keep arguing, but Leif barely seemed to be listening to what he said. He lifted a hand to the clasp of his pendant, caught it, and held it out. Leif raised his hand, looking confused, and Fjolnir dropped it onto his palm, fingers trembling a little. Heat rushed over his skin and the firelit hall became eye-wateringly bright. Cooper’s mouth dropped open and Leif’s eyes went round as coins. “I know because I’m half-Jotun,” said Fjolnir. 

He reached to take his pendant back, confident that he’d made his point, but Leif recoiled, looking horrified. Fjolnir stared. He felt a sharp pain in his chest like Leif’s reaction had caused him a physical wound. Leif didn’t move, and Fjolnir stumbled back, his eyes filling with tears. He ran around the pillar and back up the hall. He heard cries of surprise around him from people he passed, but he didn’t stop until he had reached the high table and was in his father’s arms.

Chapter Text

Cooper watched Fjolnir run away in tears. He still didn’t really know what was going on or what it meant that Fjolnir had turned blue when he took off his necklace, but he did know that Fjolnir was fun and nice and had made him feel much less nervous about being on a whole other planet. Leif and his brothers and sisters had also helped with that, making room for Cooper at their table and excitedly asking him questions about where he lived and what it was like. 

“That wasn’t very nice,” he said to Leif. “I don’t think Fjolnir was trying to hurt you. Why did you have to make him cry?”

Leif looked confused and his skin was very pale under his freckles. He stared down at the necklace in his hand. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Cooper decided Fjolnir needed his support more than Leif did, so he left him there, running around the pillar and back towards the high table after the other boy. A lot of the grown-ups he passed looked as confused and upset as Leif. 

Up ahead, he saw Fjolnir in the arms of a big man with dark red hair who must be his dad. A pretty blonde lady with longer pointy ears than Fjolnir’s before he turned blue was standing close to them and looking around, and several of the other people at the high table were moving towards them too, including the queen, Thor, and Loki. They all seemed worried. 

Cooper didn’t get much closer before a hand caught his arm. “There you are, sweetie.” It was his mom. “I think you should come sit with us now.”

“But I wanna make sure Fjolnir’s okay!”

“I’m sure he will be. He’s with his parents.” She frowned over at Fjolnir’s family. “What happened?”

“Leif started saying something about Frost Giants and how they’re really scary, and Fjolnir took off his necklace and turned all blue with white hair and red eyes ‘cause he’s half-Frost Giant, and then Leif got scared and jumped away from him, and Fjolnir started crying and ran up here.” 

Laura’s frown got deeper, but she took Cooper’s hand. “Come on. I think Fjolnir’s parents can take things from here.”

Reluctantly, Cooper let her lead him back to where his dad was sitting with Lila. 

X

Gerd’s heart pounded. Her eyes flitted around the people in the nearer end of the second tier of tables, many of whom were standing and drifting closer, trying to get a better look at Fjolnir, who was still crying into Freyr’s shoulder. He hadn’t said a word yet, but they could guess fairly well what had happened. She looked at her husband. 

“What happened? Is Fjolnir alright?” It was Frigga. Thor and Loki were right behind her, looking worried, and she motioned to them so that they would stand on Freyr’s other side and impede the view of the curious onlookers.

“I don’t know,” said Gerd. “His pendant—”

“I could cast a glamour on him until you recover it,” Loki offered.

Gerd nodded but didn’t feel any calmer. This was everything she had feared. Loki waved a hand and Fjolnir shimmered back into his half-Ljosalfr appearance.

“We must return to our chambers,” said Freyr, rubbing Fjolnir’s back.

“Yes, we’ll get our things and go home to Vanaheim tonight,” said Gerd, wringing her hands. “Or perhaps to Alfheim to visit my parents.” She turned to Loki. “I’m sorry we won’t be able to continue your lessons. Truly.” 

“Gerd, surely there is no need for you to leave Asgard,” said Frigga, laying a gentle hand on her arm. 

“No need?” said Gerd, her voice breaking with a slightly hysterical laugh. “Of course we must go.” 

“Very few saw anything,” said Thor, “and I doubt those who did know what they saw, besides a child running back to his parents.”

“At least wait until you have the pendant back,” said Loki. His expression was largely impassive, but there was a hint of a plea in his eyes. It struck Gerd hard that if they left now, he would be the only Jotun on an Asgard that now knew him for what he was. She felt so torn, but she had told Fjolnir that this was the most important thing they could do on Asgard.

“Please, think about it,” said Frigga. “Decide in the morning.”

Gerd squeezed her eyes shut and mustered her resolve. “Very well,” she said.

“Are you certain?” said Freyr.

“Yes,” she said. 

“Wonderful,” said Frigga. “Now, go on up, and I’ll see what I can do to occupy the rest of our guests.”

X

Fandral had spent the majority of the Allfather’s speech ignoring pointed looks from Sif and resisting the temptation to make an early start on repeatedly emptying his tankard. He didn’t know what he’d been hoping to hear. Had there been a part of him that actually wanted to learn that either the king or the queen had been unfaithful and Loki the result? Or that the Jotnar had somehow abducted the real prince and sent them an imposter? He would be a fool to wish for either, but it was difficult to be content with the idea that the king and queen of Asgard had knowingly and happily adopted a Frost Giant child after decades of war. Perhaps if Laufey had truly wanted that baby dead, it was right to help the poor creature, but to make him a prince?

A stubborn voice in Fandral’s head muttered that Odin and Frigga might have been ensnared by the same sorcery as Thor, but that seemed rather weak. If the Frost Giants were powerful enough to hoodwink not only Thor, but two masters of seidrcraft like the Allfather and Allmother, then they never would have lost the war. No, he was going to have to accept that the prince he’d grown up with was and always had been a Jotun, and all of Asgard was to take it in stride. After all, Loki was a hero who had just saved Thor’s life, and if a Valkyrie would give him her loyalty, then how could anyone else object?

Volstagg’s oldest boy came slinking back to the table and took his seat not long after scampering off. He looked upset about something, and the mortal child and the son of Freyr weren’t with him anymore. He shot furtive glances at his parents, but they were occupied with helping the twins and the baby not make a mess of their dinner and didn’t notice him. Fandral caught Leif’s eye and raised an eyebrow. Leif flashed a very false smile that emphasized the gaps where adult teeth hadn’t grown in yet and quickly looked down at his plate, closing his fist tightly around something silver as he did. 

Fandral raised his tankard to his mouth and took a long swig. He noticed that about half of the high table were out of their seats and the people farther along his own table and those neighboring it were on their feet too. Before he could try to investigate the disruption, it seemed to resolve itself, for the sound of drumbeats began echoing from the grand ballroom, and then everyone else was getting up, looking excited. 

“Bit early for the dancing, isn’t it?” Volstagg complained. Fandral’s portly friend was rarely satisfied with the time allotted for eating at these sorts of events, but tonight, he had to agree. Pipes, a horn, and a lyre joined the drums, and people were now flocking in earnest towards the ballroom.

“We should go find the Bartons,” said Sif to Hogun. Earlier, they had offered to teach Agent Barton and his lady how to dance the triquetra. Hogun nodded and stood.

“Yes, and I the lady Darcy,” said Fandral. 

X

Hljodfall-Tivar was among the finest skald troupes in the realm and in very high demand—not only on Asgard, but on Vanaheim and occasionally Alfheim as well. They consisted of nine members. A pair of deceptively petite blondes pounded away on the drums. On the pipes were an olive-skinned man and a ginger half-Ljosalfr with more freckles than all Volstagg’s brood combined. On the horn was a stout, heavily scarred former Einheri with a bald head but an enormous black beard. A willowy, dark-skinned woman played the lyre, which she wore on a harness so that she could play it standing, and a trio of sisters with fiery red hair provided the vocals, all done in Asgardian, not Allspeak. 

In appearance, they were a touch more dramatic than the majority of the banquet-goers. While runic and knotwork tattoos were not uncommon on Asgard, Hljodfall-Tivar had more than most. Their hair and the men’s beards were braided in the usual complex ways, but were also shorn almost completely to the skin in places (revealing the tattoos underneath) in a style that recalled the original Vanir men and women who established Asgard alongside Buri, back when “Aes” was merely an Old Vanir word for “warrior.” As to their instruments, Loki had heard rumors that some of them were made on Nidavellir and all of them had been enchanted on Alfheim. He didn’t know how accurate that was, but it was at least plausible; a significant branch of seidrcraft focused on music and other forms of art. 

There were none better than Hljodfall-Tivar to play the King’s Dance. In honor of Brunnhilde, they were also going to play the Dance of the Valkyrior in its original triumphant form, rather than the funerial variant that had been the norm as long as Loki could remember. 

Loki and Brunnhilde lined up atop the giant triquetra at the center of the hall. Thor stood to her right, grinning like a fool. To Loki’s left was Romanoff, who looked game for a challenge. Beside them were Agent Barton and his wife, paired with Sif and Hogun, then Volstagg and Hildegund. On Loki and Brunnhilde’s other side were his parents, followed by General Tyr and Lady Eir, Selvig and one of the apprentice healers, then the lady Jane and Vidar, then Fandral and the lady Darcy, and the pattern was completed by a few dozen other pairs, all facing their partners across the golden symbol in the floor. Banner had nervously declined to dance, though Loki had seen him asked at least twice. He stood with the Barton children.

Loki smirked at Brunnhilde. “Still remember how to do this?”

She snorted. “If we look bad, it won’t be my fault.” 

In the King’s Dance, your direction was determined by your position in relation to the lead dancers, who were nearly always Odin and Frigga. The couples in which the man stood on the same side of the pattern as Odin would progress in the same direction as them, while the alternating pairs would progress in the opposite direction.

Once everyone was in place (and the surrounding area filled with eager observers and simpler dance formations), the song began with a measure of nothing but drums. The dancers bowed and curtsied on the fifth beat, and when the other instruments joined in on the down beat, they all raised their hands high for a triple clap, then stepped in and put right arms around partners’ waists, revolved around each other, and returned to stomp out the last two counts. (The floor was strongly reinforced, but it was still rare that at least a tile or two didn’t need replacing by the end of a banquet of this size.)

The vocals began, and everyone turned to the left or right depending on which half they were in and faced their neighbors. Frigga smiled broadly at Loki. They linked arms and wove past each other, then continued to weave right, left, and right around the next three people until the eighth count, then faced their partners again, now with different couples to either side of them. 

For the third part, the two men in neighboring pairs stood back-to-back and lifted their partners in a half-circle so they ended up in reverse position, backtracking slightly from all the weaving they just did. (Loki heard laughter from a couple of places somewhere down the line, which must have been where Barton and Selvig had attempted to lift Sif and the apprentice healer but couldn’t quite manage it due to the difference in density of their two species. This dance would go much better for the mortal women than for the men.) For the next four beats, they returned to their previous sides of the design by twirling the ladies out, backtracking past a second couple in the process. 

On the final count of eight before the whole thing repeated, each man turned to the lady at his left and they revolved around each other with arms around waists like in the first stage, then turned to the lady on his right and did the same. All together, the King’s Dance was not an overly complex one, but every time the dancers reached the triple clap that marked the first two counts of a new cycle, Hljodfall-Tivar increased the tempo, and the movements were soon quite lively. 

Loki watched Brunnhilde’s face as often as he could. If she still needed proof that this was where she belonged, she had it now—and perhaps those who had their doubts about him would think the same as they watched him dancing with her. He refused to be distracted by the glances he felt coming his direction, focusing only on Brunnhilde. She actually looked like she was letting herself enjoy this, and he was determined to keep it that way. He’d moved through these steps at countless banquets, opposite countless partners, but never had the movements felt so fluid or the brief moments of contact so charged.  

“We ought to spar sometime,” he said when they were in one of the close parts.

“What, is that a euphemism?”

“Can be.”

“Ooh, you’re better at flirting when you’re dancing.”

“I couldn’t exactly get worse at it, could I?”

She laughed, and he spun her back out, making her gown billow and swirl around her.

The end of the dance came far too soon for his liking. In what felt like no time at all, they had looped the entire triquetra thrice and came to a halt back in their original positions. All the dancers gave merry shouts and applauded. Everyone around Loki was flushed-faced and beaming. He could see sweat glinting on the foreheads of the mortals and several of them seemed a bit winded, but they looked to have enjoyed themselves as much as their hosts. 

“Now we have a little time to get more food and drink,” Thor explained to Romanoff, “although the Dance of the Valkyrior isn’t really one for any who haven’t practiced it.” His brow furrowed and he turned to Brunnhilde. “Are you certain you want—”

“Whether I want it or not, I’m not doing this halfway,” she said, cutting him off. She looked at Loki. “We dance the valknut.” 

“As my lady wishes,” said Loki with a bow.

Thor’s smile returned in force, and he called for Sif. Hardly necessary. Of course she was going to want to be his partner for the valknut, as doing so combined her two favorite things in Yggdrasil: Thor himself and anything Valkyrie-related.

The Dance of the Valkyrior involved three large triangles, each formed by a single line of couples, all interlocking in the shape of the valknut. It was a far greater test of skill than the triquetra, because while both patterns had places that overlapped, the valknut did so much more precariously. Instead of leaving room to simply step past people moving on a perpendicular curve, partners dancing the valknut had to be able to precisely time their movements so as not to collide with the other triangles. 

When Loki and Thor had learned this one as adolescents, they had been amazed at how well the pieces fit together. The dancing masters began by teaching them the steps in a single triangle so that they could smooth out any errors without risk of collision. Dancers entered their triangle at a corner, and the first leg was a lot of stomping and twirling partners about. Then the dancers rounded the second corner. Halfway down this leg, the men spun the ladies low, but it was the third leg that was the trickiest. Not long after the corner was a high lift, after which the men spun about, reached down, and quickly pulled the ladies between their legs. The momentum of that move was critical for the one that immediately followed, which was that the lady used the man as leverage for a leap. Then the dancers went back around into the first leg to briefly recover.

They had practiced this over and over, then again blindfolded, until Loki thought he would die of boredom. Finally it had come time to knot the triangles together. He had dreaded it the first time they tried the full dance with a complete valknut, but to his shock, it had worked. Every time he and his partner went low, the dancers from the intersecting triangle were already going high, and vice versa. Sometimes they missed each other by mere inches but were still able to continue on exactly as they had when dancing with only one triangle. 

Even more than the triquetra dance, the whole thing functioned like a living piece of knotwork—truly a thing to behold, and there were galleries above the dance floor for just such a purpose. Birgir and a couple of the other servants were gathering the royal guests together so they could go up and watch it. 

X

Fandral procured a pair of wine goblets for himself and Darcy and led her to one of the more secluded galleries. He was quite good at the Dance of the Valkyrior, but it was unwise to attempt it without a clear head, and a clear head was not remotely his goal tonight. 

The dance began with the three lines of couples moving in and then veering sharply into their triangles, dancing the second leg with the low spin, turning the next corner, and finally intersecting on the third leg when the valknut symbol was nearly complete. Darcy bobbed her head to the beat and watched them move. Fandral frowned at Loki dancing with Brunnhilde for a bit before glancing over at Odin and Frigga, who weren’t among the dancers this time. Odin had his arm around Frigga’s shoulders, she was clapping in time with the music, and they both watched their sons. 

“Damn, do you do albums on Asgard?” said Darcy. “I wonder how hard it would be to get these guys into a recording studio.” She finished her wine and glanced at Fandral. “Whatcha thinking about?”

“I thought it might be a spell, but not anymore,” he said. It took a little effort to keep the words from slurring, but he managed it. “It’s love.” 

“Love?” said Darcy. For some reason, she sounded alarmed. 

“They adopted him as a baby, and I’m sure even infant Frost Giants seem helpless and innocent.”

“Oh,” said Darcy, relaxing. “Wait, what?” 

“Odin and Frigga are just and compassionate, so of course they would love any child they raised. It was love that blinded them to what he could grow to be.”

“What, a snarky magical prankster who complains a lot and is kind of a menace when he gets bored but still has your back when you need him? ‘Cause that’s what I’ve gotten from all the stories you and Volstagg and Thor always tell.”

“That’s what he seems like,” said Fandral patiently, eyes on the second prince again. “But he’s also a threat with unclear loyalties.”

“Oh wow, you’re serious,” said Darcy. “Huh. You’re not as different from some of the guys at Culver as I thought.”

“In what way?” said Fandral. 

“In the way of being kind of a racist douchebag.” She frowned. “Wait. Species-ist? I guess technically, but those sounds should never go in that order so I’m gonna stick with racist douchebag.”

He scowled at her. Her strange turns of phrase often pushed Allspeak to its limits and her perpetually apathetic tone didn’t help, but he got the gist. “I wouldn’t expect a mortal to understand.”

“Oof,” she said. “Little tip: if you want to convince someone you’re not a racist douchebag, maybe try a less condescending comeback. You think being human with an itty bitty lifespan means I don’t get that growing up hearing war stories from people who fought the Jotnar would predispose you to not like them?”

“It isn’t only old stories!” said Fandral indignantly. 

“Yeah, I’ve been reading your history books and some of the stuff that was published during the war, and it’s kinda messed up how familiar the messaging was. I mean, I actually saw the phrase ‘Frozen Peril’ in there a few times, and I could write a whole term paper just about that.”

“Frost Giants invaded Asgard after their king signed the truce. They used our sense of honor against us and then struck when we thought the war was over. My uncle was one of thousands of casualties. The impact on our realm was massive. Loki might be the only Jotun I’ve heard of who walks around disguised as Aes, but the rest of them wear faces just as false.”

“Read about that invasion too.” She sounded unimpressed. “The faction responsible is pretty well documented as not being affiliated with Jotunheim’s royal family. Laufey and his subjects aren’t responsible for the actions of a rival faction.”

“What would you know about that?” said Fandral.

She rolled her eyes. “The whole thing was a power play by this guy Ovaldi, some lord who thought he could gain widespread support if he did what the line of Ymir couldn’t by striking a major blow against Jotunheim’s enemies. At the same time he launched the invasion, he also sent assassins after Laufey and his sons. I guess he figured they’d be vulnerable because the queen had just died and they were busy trying to rebuild the capital and get stabilized again, but he didn’t factor in Laufey’s paranoia. Laufey wiped out most of the Ovaldi supporters who didn’t die on Asgard and imprisoned the rest, publicly and brutally executed Ovaldi, and stripped his descendants of their rank. The rest of the Jotnar have kept to the truce ever since, even though it sounds like it’s been a pretty sucky deal for them.”

“Until a few weeks ago, perhaps,” said Fandral, somewhat discomposed by how well she’d managed to educate herself in her short time here.

“Right, the thing with the coronation,” said Darcy. “Didn’t the queen make a statement about how that was just a handful of rogue operators and none of them survived?”

“She did.” 

“I’m not saying accept everything heads of state tell you at face value, but she was so not worried about what Jotunheim was up to that she let the entire line of succession go hang out on Earth by themselves for a few days, which is kinda the opposite of what royal families do when there’s a serious security risk.”

Fandral didn’t have a reply. He wanted to blame all the mead and wine for it, but he and his companions had stayed very close at hand to the queen during the princes’ absence, just as Thor had asked, and he had observed nothing to challenge Darcy’s reasoning. Frigga had sent a messenger to Jotunheim along with the bodies of the three slain Jotnar, and when he returned, she had informed the Council that they had acted without Laufey’s leave or knowledge. She and the Council had unanimously agreed with Odin’s initial judgment that Asgard should be on alert but any further action was unnecessary, and the matter was closed. 

“Just tell me this,” said Darcy. “Have you even met any Jotnar besides Loki?”

“Of course not.”

“Uh-huh. And...how much has Asgard interacted with Jotunheim in your lifetime?”

“It hasn’t.”

“Okay then. Are you really going to let this stuff dictate what a guy you grew up with should be like? Does any of it weigh more than the centuries of first-hand knowledge you have about him being kind of an asshole but reliable when it counts? Like are you really that shitty of a friend?”

Fandral stood there, stunned. 

“Looks like the fancy dance is wrapping up,” she said, glancing over the balcony at the dance floor. “It’s been fun, but I think it’s time we both found new makeout buddies, so I’m gonna head back down.” 

Chapter Text

More than anything else Brunnhilde had done on Asgard so far, it was deeply surreal to dance the valknut again. The last time she had done it, every woman in the formation had been one of her shield-sisters, dressed in matching formal attire. In its earliest form, the dance had been devised as a training exercise to hone the Valkyrior’s coordination and teamwork in battle, a precursor to aerial horseback drills. Now it was done by court ladies who’d only ever moved through the steps as a performance. Whatever remained of Commander Brunnhilde Sigursdottir couldn’t help watching them for signs of potential combat ability, but she shook herself out of it. It wasn’t going to be that easy for Odin to get her to slot back into the role he wanted her to play.

While she was far too sober to keep those sorts of ideas (not to mention memories) entirely at bay, her dance partner proved almost as effective of a distraction. Loki’s movements were a touch stiff and overly practiced, but that might just be his nerves at being made into such an object of curiosity in his own home. He never hesitated or missed a step, and he kept his eyes fixed on her. At first, his look had been determinedly impassive, not so much looking at her as away from everyone else, but as the tempo and energy of the dancing increased (the valknut picking up roughly where the triquetra left off), that gradually changed. She could feel the music thrumming in her veins, and it was like she and Loki were the only dancers on the floor. 

X

Being trounced in an argument over the history and politics of his own realm by a mortal who hadn’t known life existed anywhere but her own planet for a full month yet was incredibly galling. First Sif and Volstagg, then Darcy. Was Fandral a fool for holding onto his reservations? 

He finished his wine and went back down the stairs, where he spotted Darcy in the crowd, already chatting with a young man Fandral didn’t know. Well, she wasn’t the only one who could find a new “makeout buddy” with ease. He’d practically invented the art of wooing. He spotted a gaggle of maidens and sauntered their way. Before he reached them, he slowed down to catch some of their conversation, waiting for a good opening to join in while deciding which one to ask to dance. 

“Did you see the way he danced with the Valkyrie?”

“Who could miss it? They looked so striking together.” 

“I think our prince is a bit smitten.”

“Pfft. You’re always trying to guess who the princes are smitten with, and nothing ever comes of it.”

“Oh hush, and let me have my fun.”

“Don’t you think it’s sweet, the king finding an abandoned baby and bringing him home like that?”

“And right when he and the queen lost their own baby. It’s like they filled in the holes in each other’s lives.”

“It’s so lucky Odin found him. It really must’ve been the Norns’ doing, unless they just abandon babies all over the place on Jotunheim, I suppose.”

“I know! It’s a good thing he was able to grow up here.”

Fandral grimaced and swerved to the side of the group. The last thing he wanted just now was to be bombarded with even more talk of Loki. The ballroom suddenly felt unpleasantly hot and close. He tugged at the collar of his surcoat and decided that some time outside away from this crowd would do him good.

X

Though the Dance of the Valkyrior was the last of the official dances, it was too early in the evening to justify disappearing just yet. Loki’s options were either to keep dancing or to make himself available to all manner of curious, slightly inebriated people who wanted to talk to the Jotun prince. He chose dancing. Curious people still followed him into the dance circles, but at least the most they could do there was goggle at him as they passed.

It would’ve been better if he could just keep partnering with Brunnhilde, but that way lay an explosion of gossip he would rather not subject either of them to. He danced with his mother, who had an all too knowing sparkle in her eye, with Romanoff, who was easily the best of the mortals at picking up Asgardian dancing, and with Sif, who was being so pleasant to him that it made her rather dull. 

Brunnhilde didn’t go far, dancing with Thor, Hogun, and then Volstagg in between visits to the drinks table. Loki was very surprised (and not a little relieved) that Fandral never came to try his charms on her, but the blond swordsman was nowhere to be seen, even though Loki had spotted Darcy on the dance floor with a variety of partners. 

X

Clint scooped a droopy-eyed Lila into his arms, where she snuggled right up against his neck. “What do you think, time to get these kiddos back home?” They’d been at the banquet for almost three hours now, and it was showing no signs of winding down. He’d even checked with Thor, who laughed and told him that revelry like this often went all night. 

“Probably a good idea,” said Laura, ruffling Cooper’s hair.

“But I wanna stay!” said Cooper.

“It’s past your bedtime, bud,” said Clint. “Look at your sister. She’s in a real live magical kingdom and she can’t even stay awake.”

“Noooo,” said Cooper. “If we go home now, I won’t see Fjolnir again, maybe ever since we don’t even live on the same planet!”

Laura frowned. “Honey, he and his parents went up to their room. We don’t even know where that is.”

“Maybe we can find out,” said Clint. Laura gave him a look, and he shrugged. “Plus if we go home now, we’ll have to hike back to the house in the dark.” By Laura’s expression, she had to admit that didn’t sound very fun to do with two sleepy kids.

“Can we stay, Mom, please?” said Cooper. 

She sighed but smiled. “Let’s see if someone can tell us where your friend is staying.”

X

Gone were the days when Volstagg and his beautiful bride were free to dance all night at this sort of banquet. Most parents with small children only made it a few hours into the dancing, and they were no exception. It took a bit of effort to track everyone down, but only Gudrun and Gunnhild made any objection to leaving. Volstagg dreaded the day young men would start showing up at his door to ask after them, which might start happening as soon as a century from now for Gudrun. 

A skiff large enough to seat the entire family was waiting for them outside the palace, and they all loaded up. Hildegund had little Sigfod in her arms while Volstagg carried Jargsa and Gunnar, both of whom were snoring softly against his chest. 

The helmsman didn’t need directions and pushed off at a nod from Volstagg. Gudrun and Gunnhild were chattering away about which of their friends they had seen, who had erred in which dances, and which of Hljodfall-Tivar’s songs were best. Rolfe and Alaric had gotten into a wrestling match under their seats (so long as Volstagg only heard laughter from their direction, not yelling, he wasn’t worried). Sigfod was a bit grumpy, as usual when he was up this late, but between the motion of the skiff and the gentle lullaby Hildegund sang to him, he joined his elder twin siblings in sleep soon enough. 

Then there was Leif. He was leaning with his elbows hanging over the side of the skiff, watching the city pass beneath them. That wasn’t very like him. “Are you alright, Leif?” said Volstagg. “Why aren’t you down there with your brothers?”

Leif shrugged without looking around or speaking. 

Volstagg frowned. “What’s wrong? Weren’t you having a good time with Fjolnir and the mortal boy?”

Leif didn’t react. Volstagg’s frown deepened, and he met Hildegund’s concerned look over the heads of the girls.

X

Brunnhilde’s already limited willingness to be at this banquet was reaching its breaking point. She enjoyed it much more than she’d ever enjoyed the Grandmaster’s parties, but the more the Aesir drank, the less they noticed that she did not want to talk about her past battles with the Valkyrior or listen to a random Einheri boast about the ones he’d fought in. She was seriously considering nicking a bottle or two of ale and scarpering when Loki popped up next to her. “There you are,” he said. 

“Here I am,” she agreed. “Have you fulfilled your royal duties by now, do you think?”

“Enough that my father can’t complain, at least,” he said. “Would you like to escape?” He held out a hand. She took it. He waved his other hand and pulled her along in the direction of the nearest pillar-lined wall. The air shimmered around them, and when she looked down, she couldn’t see herself at all. Or Loki. Nobody noticed them slipping past. She glanced back and saw that he’d left illusions of them where they’d been standing, which proceeded to walk off in opposite directions.

Thanks to the spell, they were able to make it all the way from the dance floor to the edge of the hall unimpeded, but Loki didn’t stop when they reached the pillars, instead leading her back to where the ballroom opened onto the queen’s gardens. The cool breeze felt wonderful after the warmth of the crowded hall, and soon the sounds of the music and revelers faded to a low rumble. He finally halted beneath an archway beyond which tall, delicate flowers gleamed in the starlight.

“There,” he said. “I think we’re far enough out that my brother and Sif can’t bother us this time.”

“Shut up,” said Brunnhilde impatiently, pushing him against the archway. He became visible again on impact, and so did she—maybe because she’d surprised him and broken his concentration for the spell. Well, that made her job easier. She went up on tiptoe, slid her fingers into his hair, and pulled him down into a kiss. She’d been wanting to do this since the valknut. Loki wrapped his arms around her and matched her enthusiasm, and it went on until they needed to come up for air.

 “It feels so different when we’re the same temperature,” he said with a bit of a breathless laugh.

“Which way’s better?” said Brunnhilde. Personally, she felt there were plenty of advantages either way. Just as long as the curls stayed.

“I can hardly be expected to answer that after a mere two tests, now, can I?” 

“Cheeky git,” she said, grinning, then leaned in to keep kissing him, but he held back. 

“Have you a preference?” he asked. He was still smiling, but there was something tight around his eyes, like he was bracing himself. The sight sent a jolt through her. Less than a week ago, they’d been nearly on opposite ends of the universe and totally oblivious to each other, and yet she suspected that there weren’t many people outside of his family who had as much power to hurt him as she did now. 

It was a frightening thing to realize, not least because she actually cared if he got hurt. She’d failed everyone else who ever looked at her that way. She should put a stop to this right now, before they got in any deeper. How she had let herself get in this deep at all, and with a prince of all people... She frowned a little and shrugged. “I dunno,” she said. “Might depend on the weather. What were you saying about more tests?”

A startled smile spread over his face, and then he was kissing her again. Maybe she was the most selfish asshole in Yggdrasil, but she didn’t want this to stop. Not yet.

X

Gerd closed the door to Fjolnir’s bedchamber and turned to face Freyr.

“Asleep?” he asked.

She nodded, walking to him. He met her halfway and embraced her with his strong arms, resting his chin on top of her head. 

“Did he say anything?”

“Not really. Perhaps by morning he’ll be ready to talk about it.”

“I’m sure he will. He never manages to be unhappy for long.”

“I don’t know. This could be different.” She looked up at him. “I feel like such a fool, Freyr. I let myself hope that things could change, but—”

“Shh, don’t think like that. We’ve known all along that this was never going to be easy. There is still hope.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead. She tilted her face up for a proper kiss. How was it that she was the one with Jotun eyesight and yet he was so much better than her at finding light in the darkness? 

A soft knock sounded at the door, and they broke apart. “Who could that be?” said Gerd.

“The queen?” said Freyr. He went to the door and opened it. It was not the queen. It was the little Barton boy, standing there looking nervous. Agent Barton and his lady stood a few paces back, the former holding their sleeping daughter.

“Hello,” said Freyr.

“H-hi, sir,” said the boy, picking at a seam on his tunic. “I’m Cooper. Is Fjolnir here?” 

Gerd’s hand went to her pendant, her mind racing. What was this about? Did this boy have anything to do with why her son had just cried himself to sleep, or why his pendant was gone?

“Why do you want to see him?” said Freyr. 

“I just wanted to say bye ‘cause I’m going back to Earth in the morning. None of my friends there can do magic, and, well...I’m gonna miss him.”

Gerd walked forward to stand beside Freyr in the doorway.

“That’s very kind of you, young man,” he said, “but I’m afraid he is already asleep.”

Cooper looked deeply crestfallen at this. Gerd felt a twinge of shame for suspecting any malice on his part. She was so tired of feeling like she had to be wary of everyone’s motives on this realm, and now she was doing it to a good-hearted little boy who wasn’t even from Asgard. 

“We didn’t mean to bother you,” said Lady Barton. “It’s past our kids’ bedtime too.”

“Does that mean I can’t see him?” said Cooper.

Freyr glanced at Gerd. She tucked an arm through the crook of his elbow and smiled at the family of mortals. “Tonight might be our last night on Asgard too, but perhaps we could breakfast together in the morning before we all return home?”

Cooper’s face shone with excitement, and he spun around to his parents. “Can we, Mom, Dad? Please?”

“You’re not already having breakfast with the royal family or something?” said Agent Barton.

“Oh, I doubt they’ll be breakfasting so early if they continue hosting the ball throughout the night,” said Freyr. “It shouldn’t be any problem.”

“That sounds wonderful,” said Lady Barton. 

X

Fandral didn’t remember the last time he’d been in this garden without any maidenly company. He’d known it was one of the most beautiful places on Asgard, of course—hence bringing the maidenly company here—but his attention had been firmly elsewhere on his other visits. Now free to appreciate the breathtaking variety of flora from across Yggdrasil and beyond, as well as the masterful way it was all arranged, he found that the dazzling sights did little to improve his mood. He should’ve at least brought a bottle of wine along. 

He kept walking aimlessly past vine-laden trellises, bubbling fountains, and intricate flowerbeds with no destination in mind. After a few minutes of this, he had nearly decided to go back in for that wine bottle after all when he heard the unmistakable sounds of two people in a passionate embrace. He frowned. He’d brought Darcy out here once or twice. Could that be her now with someone else? Their brief dalliance had been no less shallow than his usual fare, but surely she would need at least a full day after depriving herself of his talents to move on?

He didn’t really know what he would do if it was Darcy with a new admirer, but wounded pride and morbid curiosity had him following the sounds anyway, just in case. They led him a short way down a curving path to a stone archway. He saw a flash of blue and white fabric first. Not Darcy, then. Her dress was black and gold. Another step forward and he recognized Brunnhilde. His curiosity increased as he recalled what Sif had said. Who exactly was her type for Sif to be so certain it didn’t include Fandral?

He took another step, and his mouth fell open. “Loki?!” He didn’t mean to say it out loud at all, let alone at the top of his voice, but this was so far from what he had ever expected to see that his tongue acted of its own accord.

Both the prince and the Valkyrie made sounds of alarm as they broke apart. “Odin’s beard!” Loki shouted, his face going bright red. “Fandral, do you mind?”

“Well it wasn’t your brother or Sif this time,” said Brunnhilde flatly. “Is this going to happen with every bloody person you know?” She shot Fandral an irritable scowl and tugged Loki around the other side of the archway before Fandral could so much as splutter out an apology.

X

With the help of Gudrun and Gunnhild, Volstagg and Hildegund had all the younger children ready for bed in short order, though the twins required a story from their mama before they would go back to sleep. Once everyone was settled, Volstagg went to his oldest son’s room. Leif was sitting atop the bed covers in his nightclothes, face turned towards the window.

“May I join you?” said Volstagg.

Leif shrugged, and Volstagg went to sit on the edge of the bed. The added weight made the mattress dip enough for Leif to nearly roll into him, but it didn’t make him laugh the way it normally did. “What’s troubling you, son? You’ve been so quiet since we left Gladsheim.” He noticed that Leif was clutching something silver in his hand. “What have you got there?”

Leif held the silver object out to him. He took it and looked at it more closely. It was a large pendant with Elvish designs on the casing, and Volstagg quickly recognized it as the one Fjolnir always wore. 

“Did Fjolnir’s pendant fall off? Why haven’t you returned it?” 

“He handed it to me,” said Leif, still not looking at him. “And then...and then he turned blue.”

“Turned blue?” said Volstagg. “What do you mean?”

“He said he’s half-Frost Giant. He had the lines in his skin and the red eyes and everything.”

Volstagg blinked, completely taken aback. That would mean Lady Gerd was... “What happened then?” he asked.

“He reached for me and I jumped back, ‘cause you told us their skin freezes ours and I didn’t want to get frozen. But then he started crying and ran away. Cooper ran after him.”

Volstagg’s heart sank and all the food he’d eaten seemed to turn sour in his stomach. In their home, Frost Giants had been the frightful villains of many a bedtime story and warning about the consequences of untidy chambers, skipped baths, and uneaten greens. It had never really meant anything to Volstagg and Hildegund; the idea of Jotnar actually coming to their home of all places with intent to do harm was ludicrous. But with the revelation that one of Volstagg’s closest companions was a Jotun himself, as well as such charming people as Lady Gerd and her son, all those little stories suddenly didn’t seem so harmless anymore.

“Lady Sif helped bring Prince Loki home to the palace yesterday after he was hurt on our quest,” said Volstagg. “He was in his Frost Giant form, but his skin didn’t freeze Sif at all.”

“Really?” said Leif, his brow furrowing.

“I was as surprised as you are,” said Volstagg. “I’m starting to think there is much we Aesir do not understand about the Jotnar, and perhaps your mother and I have been too quick to speak ill of them.” 

Leif was looking up at him with wide eyes. The idea that his parents might not know everything was clearly a baffling one (and one Volstagg might regret putting into his head so soon). 

“Did Fjolnir seem like he was trying to hurt you?” 

“I don’t know,” Leif mumbled, ducking his head again.

“I haven’t spent nearly as much time in his company as you,” said Volstagg, “but he has struck me these last weeks as a very kind and considerate boy.”

“He said Frost Giants only freeze things when they want to,” said Leif. He hugged his knees. “Did I do something bad? Cooper thought so, and it feels like I did.”

Volstagg put an arm around his son’s shoulders and gave him a squeeze. “It doesn’t sound like you meant to. And the blame is partly—or even mostly—on your mother and me for not being better examples on this subject.” He raised a hand to stroke his beard. “What would you think of Prince Loki and Fjolnir if you had never learned what you did today?”

Leif frowned. “Well...Prince Loki always tells the best stories and he makes us all laugh. And you’ve told us about how he uses his magic to help on your adventures.” 

Volstagg gave him an encouraging nod. 

“...And Fjolnir is really good at playing pretend in our games, and he says he wishes he had brothers and sisters to play with all the time like me.”

“Are any of those things untrue because Prince Loki is Jotun and Fjolnir is half-Jotun?” said Volstagg.

Very slowly, Leif shook his head. Volstagg smiled and held out the pendant. “In that case, I think you know what you need to do first thing tomorrow morning.” 

X

This time Fandral did return to the ballroom in search of more wine. He was going to need a lot of it to scrub what he’d just seen out of his mind. Since when did Loki have a passion for anything but books, magic, and trickery? Indeed, Fandral had wondered if his being a Frost Giant didn’t account for his almost total lack of romantic inclinations throughout their adolescence and early adulthood, for no one on Asgard was his type in a very significant way, even if none of them had known it. But evidently Fandral had been mistaken; it just took the likes of a Valkyrie to catch Loki’s attention. 

But how had he caught hers when she’d fought in the war? When all her shield-sisters had fallen beating back the Frost Giant invasion? Surely the Commander of the Second Wing had been there and watched it happen. Fandral hadn’t given much thought to what she’d said when the invasion came up on the way to the healing hall, but perhaps he should. Not only had she denied that the Valkyrior fell in battle against the Jotnar, she’d seemed outraged by the mere suggestion. None of it made any sense, and it left Fandral with an uneasy feeling.

“Ho there, Fandral!” 

He turned from the drinks table and saw three men lurking about a pillar. He dimly recognized them from the training grounds and was fairly certain they were called Bjarke, Colborn, and Hjalmar. All three were closer to Volstagg’s age than his, and they looked a bit deeper in their cups than he was.

“What, no company tonight?” said Bjarke with a bit of a leer.

Fandral smirked and raised his bottle. “The night is still young.”

“Forget that,” said Colborn, beckoning him over. “The lads and I heard you were there when the second prince landed in the city in his full Jotun glory.”

Fandral brought the bottle with him, taking a long swig. “What if I was?” he said.

“What did he look like?” said Hjalmar. 

“You’ve seen pictures of Frost Giants, haven’t you?” said Fandral. So far, he was not overly impressed with their intelligence. 

“Oh, come on,” said Colborn. “We thought we’d get to see it at supper. We’ve already been disappointed once tonight.”

Fandral rolled his eyes. “He has blue skin with odd lines in it and red eyes, like they all do. Bit shorter, though. What did you expect?”

“Why d’you reckon the Allfather had the Valkyrie sitting by him and dancing with him?” said Bjarke.

“She must be under orders to keep an eye on him in case he tries anything funny,” said Hjalmar.

Fandral grimaced. “She isn’t doing it on Odin’s orders, I can assure you.”

Colborn waved that aside. “Maybe you could help us out?” he said.

“With what?” said Fandral, taking another swig.

“We tried following Loki earlier, but it turned out to be one of his illusions.”

“You want me to help you find him?” said Fandral. The uneasy feeling was getting stronger and did not mix well with all he’d had to drink.

“Well, you’re his friend, aren’t you?” said Bjarke. Much that Fandral did not like was implied by the man’s tone: a challenge of Fandral’s loyalty to Asgard; an expectation that he would do whatever they decided he should in order to prove it unwavering. What was more, Bjarke and Hjalmar had subtly moved to the sides so that the three of them had him nearly surrounded. He recalled a tendency of theirs to gang up on younger fighters at the training grounds. They had not been well liked. “It should be a simple thing for someone who knows him so well to track him down.”

“Why do you need to find him?”

“We just want to see what he really looks like, don’t we?” said Colborn. 

“That’s right,” Hjalmar muttered. “A Frost Giant on Asgard, and Odin expects us to put fist to heart for him?”

Fandral’s stomach squirmed. He had said nearly the same the night before. It sounded rather less reasonable the way Hjalmar said it.

This was his own doing. He hadn’t liked some of the rumors, but he had trusted that they would push Odin into giving his subjects the explanation they deserved, and so he hadn’t complained. He hadn’t thought it through beyond that point because he had not believed the answer could be as simple as adoption, despite what Thor had said. What if the king and queen and Thor and Sif and Volstagg and Darcy and even the Valkyrie were right? What if Fandral had done all this to his friend, who did not deserve it, and his life was to be full of suspicion and mistreatment from the likes of these three from now on? “And after you’ve seen his Jotun form?” he said tightly. “What then?”

Colborn looked at Bjarke and Hjalmar. “Oh, we’ll just give him Asgard’s welcome for a Frost Giant. You don’t have to worry.” He grinned. “It shouldn’t take him more than a few days to recover.”

Before he knew what he was about, Fandral had drawn back his fist and punched Colborn square on the mouth.

Chapter Text

Bruce eventually caved and accepted one invitation to dance, if only to prove to the ladies of Asgard what his peers in high school and college already knew: that he was an uncoordinated disaster with no sense of rhythm. He could bob his head or tap his foot to the music, but even that was pushing it. Luckily, unlike with his former classmates, he couldn’t injure an Asgardian lady’s toes when he stepped on them. His partner took his clumsiness as merely a charming and funny mortal quirk. A little condescending, maybe, but it was better than open mockery. 

She did not, however, ask him to dance again, and nobody else did either. This left him free to retreat from the ballroom without feeling rude. He promptly did so, because he’d thought of a few more things to try with the diagnostics tests on the malfunctioning transporter, and he should be able to get through them before bed.

Bruce, along with Jane and Erik, had gotten fairly comfortable working in an Asgard-style lab, but it was still a pretty steep learning curve, and they generally had a much easier time applying concepts of “seidr-smithing” to their calculations and formulae when Vidar was present. (Darcy had wanted to call it “magitechnology” because it annoyed Jane, and had shot down Bruce’s suggestion of “technomancy” for being “too sci-fi sounding,” which made him question her sanity. Erik had ended the argument by pointing out that they should probably just call it what the Asgardians did, even though he was the only one who could actually pronounce it.) 

Working by himself, running the diagnostics was a slow process. Bruce welcomed the challenge, though, and enjoyed the temporary solitude. One by one, his tests came up negative. It seemed more and more like the transporter’s navigation system was flawless, but that couldn’t be right. 

X

Leif was up and out of the house before first light and on his way to the palace. The conversation with his father had made him feel much better, but as he rode into the mostly quiet city towards Gladsheim with the hard lump of the pendant pressed against his leg, he grew more and more nervous. Would Fjolnir’s parents even let him in? What had Fjolnir told them? Did he hate Leif now?

He reached the palace, left his horse at the royal stables, and went up to the side door. A guard asked him his business.

“I’m here to see Fjolnir Freyrson,” said Leif. The guard nodded and opened the door for him. 

Moments later, Leif was standing in front of the door to the House of Freyr’s chambers, rocking backward and forward on the balls of his feet. They didn’t know he was out here yet. He could just leave the pendant hanging on the door handle and get out of here before he was spotted. That way he’d never have to find out if Fjolnir hated him. 

...But then he’d never find out if Fjolnir didn’t hate him. He had to at least try, no matter what happened, and no matter how uncomfortable he felt. That was what warriors did. Before he could lose his courage, he shut his eyes tight, held his breath, and knocked on the door.

It opened to reveal Uilleag, their Ljosalfr manservant. “Oh, hello, Leif,” he said. “You caught us in the middle of packing up.”

“What?” said Leif, a vague panicky feeling stealing over him. “Packing up?”

“That’s right. We’ll be off back to Vanaheim not long after breakfast.”

“No!” Leif forgot all about being nervous and uncomfortable. He ran past Uilleag into the main chamber, where Lord Freyr, Lady Gerd, and Mallaidh (the lady’s maid and Uilleag’s sister) were all standing amid open trunks with arms full of clothing and other items. “You can’t just leave!”

All four of them stared at him, and the feeling of having done something bad came rushing back. “Good morning, Leif,” said Freyr, stepping forward. “Do your parents know where you are so early?” 

He was doing that voice grown-ups did when they’d already decided they weren’t going to listen to him. Leif got it all the time from his tutors and sometimes from his mother. Gudrun and Gunnhild had started trying to imitate it when they spoke to Leif and their younger siblings, which, seeing as they weren’t grown-ups at all and had no right to boss him around, was just about the most vexing thing in his entire life. Fjolnir’s father didn’t talk that way, though. If he was doing it now, it probably meant that Fjolnir did hate him. 

“Yes,” said Leif. He dug in his pocket for the pendant and held it up. “I’m here to bring this back.” He saw movement out of the corner of his eye and turned to see Fjolnir peeking out from the doorway to his bedchamber. His skin was still blue. 

Lady Gerd noticed too and went over to Fjolnir, closing his chamber door behind her. Leif took one step in that direction, but Freyr moved to block the way, his big arms folded over his chest. Leif wanted to disappear into the floor. The seconds dragged out for what felt like ages, before Lady Gerd reappeared. Freyr stepped aside and Gerd beckoned Leif over.

Leif obeyed at once. 

“Fjolnir will see you,” she said. Leif’s heart leapt, but she held up a hand. “However, there is something I must know first. Do you come of your own accord or under your parents’ orders?”

“O-on my own, Lady Gerd.” He noticed that her pendant looked just like the one in his hand. If Fjolnir was half-Frost Giant, then she must be full Jotun. That would have been a much more alarming thought yesterday, but today she just reminded him of his own mother when someone had upset him or one of his siblings. Definitely still alarming, but only in a normal way. “I don’t just want to give it back. I want to apologize.”

She nodded. “Then you may see him.”

X

It often took Fandral a moment or two upon waking to remember where he was and how he got there. That was the case this morning, though for far less pleasant reasons than usual. Pain radiated from his nose and jaw, his entire stomach seemed a continuous bruise, and his knuckles felt raw. 

He blinked his eyes open and winced against a blaze of flat white light. All around him on the floor were other men sporting minor injuries. Most were still asleep. One of the ones who’d woken was humming a slightly off-key rendition of a Hljodfall-Tivar song to himself. A little beyond him were Bjarke, Colborn, and Hjalmar, who appeared to have been deposited in the cell in a haphazard pile. 

The sight of Colborn’s flattened nose and Hjalmar’s vibrant black eye were some consolation. For a three-on-one fight with no weapons, Fandral thought he’d done rather well before being knocked out. Alas, that didn’t much matter; wine-sodden brawling—particularly within the palace—was an excellent way to get yourself tossed in the ofrolvi-hold for the night. Volstagg had been here once or twice before he began courting Hildegund, but this was a first for Fandral. The cell took up the entire top floor of the dungeon. It reeked of sweat and drunkenness with faint undercurrents of blood, urine, and vomit, but was otherwise remarkably clean considering how long it had been used for this purpose. 

Fandral got up and picked his way carefully around his sprawled-out cellmates to the golden barrier to see if he could catch the attention of a guard. There was one not far away, and Thor was talking to him. He spotted Fandral and grinned. Fandral grinned back only halfheartedly. The guard put fist to heart in reply to whatever Thor had said and went to fiddle with something on the console. The barrier parted to make a gap three feet across, and Fandral stepped out. 

“I heard you got into a fight!” said Thor, clapping Fandral on the shoulder. “Sif and Volstagg will be sorry you didn’t save any for them. What happened?”

Fandral had never felt more uncomfortable in Thor’s company. “A few louts with unpleasant intentions wanted me to help them find Loki.”

Thor’s demeanor changed and his eyes flashed in the direction of the cell. “I was afraid of this,” he said. “Are they going to be a problem?”

There was such ease and confidence in Thor’s manner. While he wasn’t surprised to learn of the other men’s hostility, it plainly hadn’t even crossed his mind that any of his friends might be less than true. The idea only deepened Fandral’s sense of shame. It didn’t matter how noble his intentions had been; he had been wrong, and he may have done great harm to one of the people Thor loved most. “Not an especially competent one,” he said, “but I don’t know how common their sentiments are.” He only knew they were one man fewer than the previous day, for whatever that was worth.

The anger drained out of Thor and he just looked frustrated and sad. It must be difficult to be living this all over again, making some headway towards positive change only to run into new obstacles. If this was a new obstacle. How far away had they gotten from how things had played out before? Fandral nearly asked what he could do to help, but he already knew what he needed to do first.

“I haven’t really talked to Loki since before Sakaar,” he said. “Is he at breakfast?”

“He might be,” said Thor. “Romanoff and the Bartons are going back to Earth soon, though. He could be seeing that everything is in order for them.”

X

Fjolnir watched Leif as the chamber door closed. Leif didn’t seem to want to look at him, but he stuck out his hand, the pendant hanging from it. “Here,” he said. “I’m sorry I kept it.”

Fjolnir reached out for it. Leif flinched, and Fjolnir drew back. “You’re still scared of me,” he said, the same wave of hurt and misery from last night threatening to engulf him again. 

“I’m not!” said Leif, finally looking around, his eyes wide. “Really! I just—” He ducked his head. “I wouldn’t blame you if you felt like freezing me after yesterday.”

“I don’t want to freeze you,” said Fjolnir. 

“Oh.”

“You’re my friend. Aren’t you?”

“If you still want me to be,” said Leif. He held up the pendant. Fjolnir took it. Immediately, the familiar shift rolled over him, leaving him squinting a bit against the semidarkness. He started working the clasp. “Do, er, do you have to put it on right away?”

“You don’t want me to?” said Fjolnir, surprised.

“Well, it’s just, I’ve never played with a half-Frost Giant before.”

Fjolnir raised his eyebrows. “You’ve been playing with me for weeks.”

“You know what I mean,” said Leif.

Fjolnir set the pendant down on his bedside table. 

Leif stared at him, looking fascinated. “What are those lines?”

“They’re ancestry lines,” said Fjolnir. “I get them from Mama. They’re almost exactly like hers. If I were all Jotun, I’d have them on my arms and legs too.”

“Oh,” said Leif. “I’ve seen them in books, but I thought they were just drawn on.”

“Some of the Jotnar on Alfheim get tattoos to emphasize them,” said Fjolnir. “But I don’t think they do that on Jotunheim. Mama says that the oldest sons in important families on Jotunheim shave off all their hair so that everyone can see their lineage, and the drengjar do too.”

“That’s why they don’t have hair?” said Leif.

“What, you thought they don’t grow it at all?” Fjolnir giggled. “No, they only can’t grow beards, but neither can the Ljosalfar. Papa and Mama have a bet whether I’ll be able to grow one or not when I get older. My hair is curly like his, so he thinks I will, but it’s white like hers, so she thinks I won’t.” 

Leif laughed. Fjolnir was starting to feel better. He noticed that the door was ajar and he could see his mother looking in. He smiled at her. She smiled back and withdrew.

“Can you show me some ice magic?” said Leif.

“Yeah, but we should go to the bath chamber down the corridor.”

“What for?” 

“Because I can’t make ice without water,” said Fjolnir, rolling his eyes, “and there’s only a little of it in the air. Let’s go!”

X

Loki was the only one in the royal breakfast room when Thor arrived. He had a half-full plate in front of him but was paying more attention to the book in his hand. 

“Are Mother and Father still abed?” Thor asked, taking an empty plate.

“No, they’ve eaten and gone,” said Loki. He frowned over at Thor. “What about you? You took your time getting here.”

“I was letting Fandral out of the ofrovli-hold,” Thor snickered, loading his plate with fruit, pastries, eggs, and sausage before returning to the table and taking the seat next to Loki. “It’s too bad he didn’t come with me; he wanted to talk to you about something.”

“How did he end up in ofrolvi-hold?” said Loki.

“Defending you, it seems,” said Thor, taking a big bite of sausage and egg. 

“Then not everyone took Father at his word,” said Loki. All the good spirits vanished from the room like light from a snuffed candle.

Thor swallowed his food, kicking himself for having said anything. He cast around for a change of subject. Fortunately, there was a fairly obvious one available that he had not yet discussed with his brother. “You had a good evening, though, didn’t you? I saw the way you danced with Brunnhilde.” Loki glared at him, but he ignored it. “Your meeting with her in that mead hall on Sakaar must’ve gone well for things to play out as they have this time.”

“Hardly,” said Loki. “By the time Maw arrived, she had a dagger to my throat.”

The mental image had Thor letting out a full belly laugh.

“Yes, yes, my courtship skills are highly amusing,” said Loki, swatting Thor up the back of his head with his book.

“No, it’s not that,” said Thor, rubbing his head, eyes streaming with mirth and pain. “You clearly made a better first impression than I did.”

“How is that possible?”

“She slapped an obedience disk on me, which she wasn’t at all shy about activating, and sold me to the Grandmaster.”

“Oh.” Loki hesitated for a moment, during which Thor resumed eating his breakfast. “What happened last time? Between her and me, I mean. Is this very different?”

Thor shrugged. “She didn’t seem overly fond of you, but then, she didn’t seem overly fond of anyone except the Hulk, so I could be wrong. She did beat you up and put you in chains at one point, though.”

Loki choked on a piece of fruit. Thor pounded him on the back, grinning. “If you’ve finished eating, you should check in with Jane, Erik, and Banner about the transporter malfunction. Banner said he was going to work on it more last night.”

“You check in with them if you’re so interested,” said Loki sourly. Thor grimaced, and Loki rolled his eyes. “I’m not going to help you avoid Jane Foster every time, you know.”

“I’m not avoiding her, I just have other things to attend to.”

X

Cooper was awake and dressed in his weird Asgard clothes long before the rest of his family was up. Breakfast was still forever away, and he didn’t want to waste a second of his time off Earth. He scribbled a note to let his parents know where he was going and then tiptoed out of their huge guest rooms. He’d paid very close attention to the way they’d gone to get there from where Fjolnir’s family was staying, and he was pretty sure he could find it on his own. It all looked sort of different in the morning, but that was okay. 

Five minutes later, he was starting to worry that maybe he was lost in the enormous palace when someone called his name. “Hey, Cooper!” 

He turned and saw Fjolnir and Leif running down the hall towards him. Fjolnir had his pendant back and they both looked excited about something. “I was coming to find you,” said Cooper to Fjolnir. 

“Good!” said Fjolnir. “We’re going to the bath chamber so I can use the water to make snow. Want to come?”

Eager to see more magic, Cooper beamed and nodded.

X

Bruce didn’t realize he’d worked through the night until Jane and Vidar arrived at the lab. “You left the banquet to work, Banner?” said Vidar, chuckling and shaking his head. 

“I just had some ideas I wanted to test out,” said Bruce, glancing at the windows. Soft morning light was filtering in. “Didn’t mean to pull an all-nighter.” The soreness in his neck and shoulders suddenly made itself known. He stretched and groaned, wishing that Asgard had coffee.

“And?” said Jane, picking up his notes and looking over them.

“I’ve tried everything I can think of, and I can’t find any evidence that the transporter malfunctioned.”

“Wait, let me just try something,” said Jane. “Vidar, come here.”

“Erik and Darcy?” said Bruce, while the other two poked around at the inner workings of the transporter. 

“He’s hungover and she’s making new friends,” Jane muttered vaguely.

The door opened again. Vidar was the first to look around. He stood up straight and clapped his right fist over his chest. “My prince.”

It was Loki. “Morning, all,” he said. “How goes the work on the transporter?”

“I was up all night running diagnostics on a few different problems it could have been,” said Bruce. “They all came up negative.”

“Dammit,” said Jane, stopping what she was doing and looking up at them. “Yeah, my big idea was a bust too.”

“Perhaps we’ve missed something,” said Vidar.

“Perhaps you haven’t,” said Loki. 

Bruce’s stomach dropped as he realized what Loki was implying. It hadn’t occurred to him before now because he’d been in the second transporter group himself and nothing had seemed suspicious at the time. “That could only be true if the destination change wasn’t caused by a malfunction.”

Jane and Vidar exchanged an alarmed glance.

“Your services are greatly appreciated,” said Loki. His expression was unnervingly calm, and he turned and strode back out without another word. 

“...Should we tell someone about this?” said Jane.

“If the destination was altered deliberately to put a prince of Asgard at risk, then we must!” said Vidar.

“We don’t know enough yet,” said Bruce. “We should talk to some of the other people who were there. Are the SHIELD agents at breakfast by now? I didn’t see anything, but maybe they did.”

X

Clint stifled a snort when he saw the piece of torn notebook paper sitting on the table by the bed, covered in messy third-grader handwriting. 

Mom and Dad,

Don’t worry. I went to find Fyolneer. See you at breakfast. 

Hugs and kisses, 

Cooper

He showed the note to Laura, who wasn’t as amused by it. Given that they were in a massive building on another planet, it probably wasn’t the best time for Cooper to run off by himself, but Clint wasn’t worried. They got dressed quickly and Laura helped Lila get up and back into her pretty banquet outfit, and then they headed for the room where Fjolnir’s family was staying. 

Gerd answered the door this time. “Good morning,” she said, smiling.

Lila stared at her, her eyes round as coins. “Are you a fairy princess?” she asked before either Clint or Laura could reply.

Gerd laughed. “You precious thing,” she said. “I am not a fairy princess, though I am good friends with one.”

“Is Cooper here?” said Laura. “He left us a note that he’d come to find Fjolnir already.”

“No,” said Gerd, “though I have a good idea of where he might be.”

She led the way up the hall and around a corner. They passed a few more doors, but could hear young boys laughing before they reached the fifth one. Gerd opened it and a rush of cold air hit them. Cooper was busy building a snow fort while Fjolnir and Leif pelted snowballs at each other. Clint was a little surprised to see that Fjolnir wasn’t blond and pink-cheeked anymore, but this didn’t seem to bother either Leif or his son at all. 

“There you are, Cooper!” said Laura. “You look like you’re freezing!”

“I’m ok-k-kay,” said Cooper. His face was bright red and he was visibly shivering. “R-r-really!”

“I’m sure you are, buddy,” said Clint, “but what do you boys say to taking a little break so we can eat?”

X

After taking the briefest detour to tend to his injuries and make himself presentable, Fandral headed straight for the breakfast room nearest the mortals’ guest quarters. He grimaced at the thought that Darcy might be there, but wasn’t deterred. However, when he arrived, he found only Agent Romanoff and a bleary-eyed Selvig.

“Can we help you?” said Romanoff. 

“You haven’t seen Prince Loki about, have you? There’s something I need to discuss with him.”

“We danced one song last night, and then he danced with Sif,” she said. “I didn’t see him again after that.”

“Are you by any chance expecting him shortly? Thor said he might want to speak with you and Agent Barton before you return to Midgard.”

“I haven’t heard anything. Have you checked the lab?”

“Splendid idea,” said Fandral. “You have my thanks.” He bowed to her before setting off towards the laboratory. He needed to find Loki before his courage deserted him. Alas, when he arrived, the laboratory was empty.  

X

Loki couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so angry. It shouldn’t come as a surprise; he’d never been betrayed before. Not like this. Not by someone who’d been his friend nearly all his life. Centuries of adventures together, of fighting side-by-side and saving each other’s necks from countless perils, and it came to this? Yes, they’d quarrelled from time to time and Loki had perhaps gone a bit far with his mischief on occasion, yet what kind of excuse was that? The fact that he was Jotun was bound to get out eventually, whether he wanted it to or not, but how could someone he trusted be responsible for stripping any control over that information away from him? To expose him and then to carry on like nothing had happened?

The back doors of the palace flew open before he could reach them, and guards standing at their posts scrambled to get out of his way. He took the steps down to the training grounds two at a time. As expected, even after a long banquet night when any sane person would be fully justified in sleeping late, the target of his ire was up, alert, and practicing sword forms like she did nearly every morning.

Chapter Text

There was no shortage of excellent places to hone and test one’s martial skills on Asgard, but Sif always came to the royal training grounds when she had the choice. She’d probably spent more time there than just about anyone else on Asgard. She had practiced with every weapon, had bested every foe construct again and again, as well as every living opponent. She knew every carved stone, every contour of the natural rock formations they were built around, and she could draw the knotwork etched into the arches from memory. 

Located behind the palace, off the waterfalls that flowed out from the gardens, the place was almost paradoxically beautiful and peaceful, but that wasn’t what she loved about it. This was where she had proven that even after the Valkyrior were gone, a young girl could still become a warrior. She had conquered this territory and made it her own. Where once she had merely been tolerated, she was now expected and welcomed. It was almost a second home to her. 

She particularly liked the training grounds on mornings after great banquets, when she usually had them to herself for an hour or two while everyone else slept late. This was such a morning—at least at first. About halfway through her usual exercises, Loki joined her. She was a little surprised to see him; they didn’t normally encounter each other without Thor around, and she wasn’t sure it had ever happened here since they were both in training themselves. “Good morning, Loki,” she said, not stopping her movements. Perhaps, if he’d forgiven her for walking in on that kiss, he could help her persuade Brunnhilde to come here and spar with her sometime. She was a little wary of making the request herself, but she was itching to find out how well she could hold her own against an actual Valkyrie after all her study of their techniques. 

“Hello, Sif.” Loki’s demeanor was perfectly polite, but centuries at the business end of his pranks had given her an instinct for when something was wrong. Trying not to seem wary, she paused her maneuvers.

“Do you need a sparring partner?” she asked. She couldn’t think why he’d be cross with her in particular—unless he hadn’t forgiven her for walking in on the kiss, but perhaps if she gave him no additional fodder, he’d find a different outlet.

His eyes narrowed. “You’re still doing it,” he said.

“Doing...what?” said Sif, a bit confused now. She set the halberd back on the rack and faced him.

“Did you really expect to fool me? I couldn’t understand why you were being so friendly all of a sudden, but it makes sense now.” He wasn’t troubling to hide his anger anymore, she was definitely the target, and it didn’t seem to have anything to do with her untimely intrusion two nights prior.

“It does?” It certainly wasn’t making sense to her.

“Some tiny part of you must’ve felt guilty for what you did, so you’ve been feigning geniality to ease your conscience.”

Sif let out a noise of exasperation and crossed her arms. “If you’ve something to accuse me of, you might get on with it, because I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t pretend!” he spat. “You changed the coordinates to put the Frost Giant on display for the whole realm!”

She bristled. “How dare you! I didn’t touch those coordinates!”

“Then how do you explain it? I should’ve seen it from the beginning on probability alone. A mere malfunction would be infinitely more likely to land us in empty space than a crowded square.” 

“Well, of course it must have been me if probability says so. However we ended up in that square, I’ve been friendly to you because I’m your friend, and I felt guilty because it occurred to me I haven’t always been a very good one!” 

“Oh, and what brought that dazzling revelation about after eight hundred years?” His face was so twisted with rage that she hardly recognized him. Even in Jotun form, he hadn’t looked so unlike himself. “We both know perfectly well that the only reason you ever tolerated me at all was so you could be close to my brother!” 

“That’s not true!” she said, stung. Just because she loved Thor didn’t mean she considered any time spent in someone else’s company wasted. Loki was part of the group. It simply wouldn’t be the same without him. “But I’m glad to know your opinion of me. I can’t believe I was starting to think that you and I were actually similar.”

He let out a derisive laugh. “That’s good. You’d do better to try it on me sometime when you didn’t just learn we aren’t even the same species!”

“What does that matter?” she said, flinging her arms up. “We’ve known each other our whole lives! Aes or not, you’re the only person I know as stubborn as I am. We both would do absolutely anything for Thor, even when he’s being an utter fool. Neither of us has ever been what Asgard wanted us to be, but we never let that stop us from fighting for what we wanted for ourselves. Need I continue?”

For once, the Silvertongue had no sharp reply. In fact, he looked rather like he’d been slapped, which saved her the trouble of having to actually slap him. She could hear a rushing noise quite separate from the waterfall, and she wouldn’t be surprised if she started seeing red like a berserker soon. She fought to keep her voice under control. It was hard; words had never been her weapon of choice. “I won’t pretend I wasn’t confused and alarmed when we found you on that ship, but I set the coordinates for Gladsheim just the same, and I never would have done otherwise.” 

He opened his mouth, but she stepped closer and jabbed a finger into his chest. “I’m not finished! When that wasn’t where we landed, I reminded the people in the square that you are their prince. Since then, I’ve fended off dozens of gossiping idiots who hoped I would confirm some vile notion they have about you for being Jotun, and I even defended you to Fandral and Hogun when they let some of those nonsense rumors get to them, so you’re bloody welcome!” With that, she shoved him back from her and stormed away towards the stairs.

X

Bruce hadn’t spent a ton of time with the princes since coming to Asgard, but Loki had visited the lab several times to observe the progress on the projects they’d been given and offer some input, and they both usually shared at least one meal in a day with him and the other humans. He liked them. They seemed like good guys, one driven by boundless intellectual curiosity and the other by a heartfelt desire to protect his people (and luckily also the Earth). If someone had betrayed one of them, then Bruce wanted to help. Jane was nervous about getting involved in Asgard’s business, but she obviously felt the same way, and Vidar was so insistent on it that he was reluctant to take the time to verify their suspicions before taking action. 

They found Agent Romanoff finishing breakfast with a very hungover Erik. 

“I was just about to head your way,” she said. She smirked. “Agent Barton and I sort of got interrupted the last time we were asking you about your work here.”

“That can wait,” said Jane. She sat down across from Romanoff. She cast a quick glance around the room, but it was empty except for the five of them. “When you used the transporter to get back to Asgard, did you notice anything unusual?”

“We’ve run every test we can think of, and malfunction is looking pretty unlikely,” Bruce added.

“You’re sure there’s nothing left to try?” said Erik, voice thick and groggy.

“About as sure as we can be,” said Jane.

“So you’re thinking sabotage,” said Romanoff, going from relaxed to serious in an instant. 

“Hopefully not,” said Vidar. “But Prince Loki already believes that’s what happened.”

Romanoff frowned, then shot significant looks at all of them. “I think he’s right.”

X

Having not found Loki in the palace library or in the royal breakfast room either, Fandral reluctantly headed outside and down to the training grounds. Sif was going to be very superior, but he could stomach a little crow if she could point him in the right direction. He was hoping she’d be able to, given that she’d stayed true to the loyalties they’d both sworn.

He had just gone behind the waterfall and rounded a corner when he was nearly bowled over by none other than Sif, who was stomping up the steps as though determined to crack the ancient stone with every footfall. “Sif, wait!” he said, regaining his footing and going after her. She barely noticed him, even when he drew level with her. He was able to get a slightly better look at her face from this angle and was shocked by what he saw. “Are you—crying?”

“No,” she said, with such vehemence that he flinched. She wiped at her eyes with the back of a fist. Were he in better spirits, Fandral would’ve found that answer ripe territory for some friendly mocking. Instead, he waited for her to explain. It didn’t take long. “It’s Loki!” she burst out. “Even if he doesn’t believe my friendship is sincere, how could he think so little of my honor to even suggest that I would betray my oaths by exposing him?!” 

Fandral froze. Oh shit. He’d been too slow. Sif, oblivious to his reaction, carried right on. “He’ll learn soon enough that I don’t feign geniality for anyone, even a prince.” Fandral looked down the long stairs to where they opened onto flat stone, but she chose that moment to round on him with murder in her eyes. “If you even think of lording this over me, Fandral, I’ll break your nose, because you’re still wrong. His being a complete arse has nothing to do with his species.”

“I know…,” said Fandral feebly. 

She finally seemed to actually see him, and she frowned. “Why is your jaw purple?”

He touched the spot, surprised there was still a mark. Nothing hurt anymore except his stomach, which might take a few more hours to finish healing. “Oh, I had a slight misunderstanding with a few chaps at the banquet who were drunk enough to think putting a certain Jotun in the healing room a fine idea.”

“You defended him?” 

“I had to,” he said. 

“Well...good. Now go give him a proper thrashing and tell him he’ll get a second one unless he apologizes.”

She left him there before he could attempt to ask her anything else. He didn’t follow. He was going to have to confess and apologize to her too, but that would have to come second; she might actually kill him if he told her now, and Loki should be the one to get first crack at that.

He couldn’t believe what a mess this had become. It was already bad enough the trouble his actions had created (and would continue to create), but it was a wretched thought that Loki had liked or trusted him well enough not to suspect him before Sif, and he hadn’t been quick enough to prevent an entirely avoidable breach in their friendship. Whatever was coming to him, he had more than earned it.

X

Loki flung dagger after dagger into a foe construct until it shattered into golden sparks, summoned the daggers back, and waited for the next construct to appear and attack. The simulated match didn’t make for a very absorbing distraction, but reading wouldn’t have been violent enough and he didn’t have the focus for complex spells. 

He didn’t like being at the training grounds, and he avoided the place when he could. In his childhood and adolescence, this had been where he’d learned what Asgard truly thought of him. The respect his rank demanded meant that people concealed it most of the time, but it was hard to maintain those rules in a setting like this. Many of the boys near his age had taken great pleasure in knocking him into the dirt every chance they got. He always did very well when allowed to use his seidr, but his training required that he be proficient in hand-to-hand combat as well, and it was in those contests that his opponents made him pay for relying on “dishonorable tricks” to defeat them. 

His mother had assured him the other boys were simply jealous that he could use his seidr in ways they would never be able to. His father had told him that facing such opposition would make him strong. He was sure they meant well, but it hadn’t made it easier to be despised by his peers. It had been the worst whenever Thor had noticed. Every time he fought Loki’s tormentors, it only made him weaker in their eyes. So eventually he stopped telling his family and turned to more creative ways to avenge his wounded pride. 

“Loki.”

His grip on his daggers tightened. “Fandral.” This confrontation might as well happen here. Fandral had been one of the few who hadn’t looked at the skinny apprentice seidmadr with scorn. They’d had similar builds growing up, and so the two of them had been paired in matches more often than anyone else. Unlike the others, Fandral had actually enjoyed the challenge of trying to fight against magic, and when Loki defeated him, he lost with grace. In turn, when Fandral defeated Loki, he wasn’t cruel or gleeful about it. Perhaps for this reason, he had been the second-favorite target of many of the bullies. They’d both developed significant portions of their signature fighting styles in those matches. It had been the foundation for actual friendship, even if Fandral, like everyone, was still closer to Thor.

And now, just like with the others back then, the training grounds revealed what he really thought of the second prince.

Loki could have dismissed the foe construct straight away, but instead he dispatched it with precise daggers to the throat and chest. Only after it vanished did he turn to face Fandral. The other man was entirely devoid of the conceited charm that normally defined him. He also carried no weapon. Well, no sense in dawdling. “It was you, not Sif.”

“Yes,” said Fandral, gaze roughly level with Loki’s boots. 

Loki had worked it out the moment Sif left. He’d been so certain it was her, but he should have known better. Even if she possessed enough spite, she wouldn’t have pretended. There was only one in his and Thor’s group of friends apart from himself who had ever been halfway decent at lying, and it certainly wasn’t Sif. His error had burned up most of his anger and left him with little more than a bitter taste in his mouth and a sick feeling in his stomach. He didn’t know what he was going to say to her later, but that wasn’t the most pressing problem right now. 

“Why?”

“What excuse could I offer? I have none to satisfy myself, let alone you.”

Loki rolled one of the throwing daggers around his fingers. “I still want to know.”

“When we first found you on that ship, I didn’t recognize you. I thought Thor was running to slay the Frost Giant, even after what he’d said about allying with Jotunheim. Then he told us you were adopted. The explanation seemed so impossibly simple that I coul—didn’t accept it.”

“You think it was easy for me to accept?” said Loki, his lip curling, his grip on the dagger tightening. Without planning to, he suddenly found himself shouting. “You try it! You try going your whole life working hard to gain all the skills and knowledge expected of your position, and no matter how much you excel or how much you accomplish, at best you’re only an afterthought beside your brother! Sometimes you catch yourself hating him for it even though you know it isn’t his fault he was born first or that he happens to be exactly what everyone wants in a prince.” 

He stepped closer, voice continuing to rise. Fandral looked horrified, but Loki was far beyond caring what he thought. “You think if you can just be good enough at everything, people will eventually take notice. When they don’t, when you keep seeing resentment and suspicion everywhere, you start to get this nagging feeling that something must be wrong with you—and then you learn one day that you were right, because your own flesh and blood were a lie the whole time and you’re something your entire realm despises. If it wasn’t for my family, I don’t know—” 

He broke off abruptly. He knew exactly what he would’ve done if it hadn’t been for Thor carefully ensuring that he didn’t have to face the truth alone, but this was the first time he’d really understood it for the narrow miss it was. He took a step back as though moving away from a ledge, his breaths coming faster. He thought he might actually be sick. He turned away, fighting to collect himself.

For a long moment, the only sound came from the waterfalls. Fandral was first to speak. “We were standing around the transporter,” he said. “Sif had set the destination. There was a pause when no one else was looking. In that moment, I allowed your heritage to outweigh everything else, and I moved one of the rings just enough to put us in the square.” 

Loki slowly turned back around. 

“I spent the next day and a half trying to justify that action to myself.” Fandral swallowed, then finally met Loki’s eyes. “I failed.” There was something in his face that Loki had never seen there before: self-disgust. Without really thinking about it, he dropped the dagger back into his dimensional pocket.

“What changed your mind?”

“There are more people on your side than I think you realize. At first, I convinced myself that they were naive, extending you the degree of trust they would owe to fellow Aesir, not a Jotun who earned himself the title God of Mischief. Particularly after what happened at Thor’s coronation. I thought it had to be connected.” 

The anger that had been creeping back in as he spoke came to a squelching halt. Loki knew why he’d done what he’d done, and so did Thor, but without context, most Aesir would probably call it treason. 

“In reality, they were being far wiser than I by trusting you based on their own experience,” Fandral went on. “I had a mirror held up to me last night, and I didn’t like what I saw at all. I have been unjust and without honor...and a shitty friend.” Judging from his bitter little smile, Loki thought there must be some private joke in that.

He waited in case there was more, but Fandral only stood there, shamefaced. 

The sounds of marching boots made them both look around. Several Einherjar were coming down the steps. They stopped a few yards in front of them and saluted Loki with fists to hearts. Then the captain spoke. “Fandral Ingvarson, we are here to escort you before the king.”

Chapter Text

The day that followed a grand banquet was traditionally fairly relaxed, but Thor was restless. Though most of the seven years between his interrupted coronation and battling Thanos on Earth remained, he didn’t feel he could justify wasting so much as a moment. He’d already seen how acting differently than before changed things in ways he couldn’t predict, and that would continue to compound until his future knowledge was all but useless. But what to address next? 

Neris and his fellows had requested a few days’ peace after their ordeal at Ebony Maw’s hands before they would be ready to discuss what they knew of Thanos’s operation. Odin had arranged to meet with King Eitri to plan improvements to the defenses around Nidavellir, but that too wouldn’t happen for days yet. Unless Heimdall brought them more unexpected news of the Titan’s movements, it seemed there was little Asgard or its crown prince could do about him in the meantime. 

Thor would very much like to do something about Hela. That, however, would require him to have another argument with his father. He didn’t know how he was going to convince him that merely attempting to strengthen the enchantments keeping her on Niflheim wasn’t good enough. He thought his mother might be his ally in that fight, given that Hela had apparently tried to murder her the last time they interacted. He thought Odin might even listen, given that he had imprisoned Hela in the first place for that very act.

Jane, Erik, and Banner would likely locate Malekith’s ship soon using the tracking device. Thor could make preparations for that. It might be better to deal with the Dokkalfar next in any case; the people would need time to grow accustomed to what they had just learned about Loki before they would be receptive to talk of an alliance with Jotunheim. A victory against an even older, more dangerous enemy than Laufey could be just the thing to garner the kind of public goodwill needed to make that alliance work. It would show that the House of Odin knew the difference between a threat and an opportunity. 

There were also the Avengers. With Rogers newly rescued from his icy slumber, it would be possible for the first time to bring the entire team together. Hopefully it could be achieved with less contention now that Loki was in the role of ally rather than enemy, and having Barton and Romanoff’s help should also make that go smoother. They would of course want to begin rooting Hydra out of SHIELD, a goal that was very much in Asgard’s interest too. The Realm Eternal couldn’t very well establish and maintain closer ties to Earth through such a corrupted organization.

As Crown Prince, the moments when Thor felt pulled in many different directions at once were not rare, and there was one person he often turned to first for counsel, perspective, and a chance to get away from the palace. He set out for Himinbjorg on foot, looking forward to seeing the Gatekeeper. They’d only had brief conversations with others present since he came back in time—the least interaction he’d had with any of the loved ones he’d lost before. 

He had barely left the grounds of Gladsheim for the city when he spotted Sif a little way ahead of him. Surprised to see her anywhere other than the training grounds at this hour, he called after her and broke into a jog to catch up. 

“If you’re here to make your brother’s case for him, Thor, I’m not interested,” she said, not slowing her pace or looking at him. “He can do it himself.”

Thor blinked, caught entirely off-guard by the level of hostility in her tone. “What?”

Sif’s step faltered. “Loki didn’t send you after me?”

“No, I haven’t seen him since breakfast,” said Thor. “Did you two have a fight?” That was disappointing. He’d hoped the two of them were on a path towards understanding each other better after his recent conversations with her, but perhaps that had been asking too much.

“A fight?” said Sif with a derisive laugh. “He accused me of deliberately altering the transporter’s coordinates to expose him! How could he think I would do such a thing?!”

Thor had been prepared to defend Loki and encourage reconciliation, but this brought him up short. “He—I thought it was just a malfunction.” 

It was Sif’s turn to frown. “So did I.”

“When Loki left breakfast, he was going to check in with the scientists to see if they’d made any progress,” said Thor. A horrible realization clunked into place. “If it wasn’t a problem with the transporter...”

“...And if it wasn’t me,” said Sif, her eyes going very wide, clearly following the same line of logic Thor just had and appalled by where it led. They both looked back at the palace.

Thor wasn’t aware of how angry he had become until black clouds began swirling over the sky, accompanied by low growls of thunder. All thought of visiting the Observatory forgotten, Thor’s feet began moving towards the palace. Sif kept pace with him, a hand on the hilt of her sword. 

X

The Einherjar carried shackles, but Fandral went with them willingly, so they did not use them. Loki followed in their wake, climbing back up the long stone stair, crossing the grounds, and entering the palace. Only when they reached the throne room did the soldiers peel off. Odin stood in front of Hlidskjalf, Frigga at his side. At the base of the golden stairs were Vidar, Banner, Jane Foster, and Romanoff. The three mortals looked around at the sound of their entrance. Banner’s eyes widened at the sight of Fandral, Jane’s narrowed, and Romanoff remained impassive, with a brief glance at Loki. 

Loki and Fandral had nearly reached the golden stairs when the doors banged open behind them. Loki turned and saw Thor and Sif marching in, accompanied by a whiff of ozone and a distant rumble of thunder.

Fandral shrank in on himself, but didn’t hesitate to go into a half-kneel, bow his head, and put fist to heart. 

“These four have brought me an interesting theory,” said Odin with a gesture towards Vidar and the humans. He spoke calmly, but the knuckles of his right hand were white as he gripped Gungnir, and Fandral flinched. “I wonder if you already know it.”

“I do, Allfather,” said Fandral. Thor and Sif had moved to where they could see Fandral properly.

“Is it correct?” said Odin.

“Yes. There was no flaw in their craftsmanship. Sif set the correct destination, and it was I who changed it.” 

Sif made a noise like an angry cat, and the thunder increased in volume. Loki would not have been surprised to see threads of electricity arcing over Thor’s skin. Both were looking at Fandral as though they’d never seen him before. Even Frigga wore an expression harder than any Loki had ever seen on her. 

“Thank you for bringing me your evidence,” said Odin. He waved at Vidar and the humans without taking his eye off of Fandral. “You are dismissed.”

Jane looked like she wanted to protest, but Vidar and Banner nudged her toward the exit, and Romanoff followed.

The feeling in the throne room changed the instant the door closed behind them. The fires in the braziers all down the hall dimmed and there was a rumble even lower than the thunder as the air seemed to grow heavier. For someone with as much raw power as he had, Thor was famously dreadful at keeping it from leaking out of him when his emotions were high. Odin was on another level entirely, but his control was so good that he could be mistaken for a harmless old man when it suited him. It plainly did not suit him now. “You will explain why you decided to put my son at risk,” he said, “and why you chose a moment when he was already in dire need of a healer’s attention to do so, no less.”

“Does it matter why I did it?” said Fandral. The naked remorse in his tone didn’t seem to register with anyone but Loki. 

“Does it MATTER?!” Odin repeated in a shout. “We kept this secret for his entire life to protect him! Even if no harm comes of it on Asgard, which I doubt if this is the treatment he has received from one of his oldest friends, Laufey could learn of it any day now because of your presumption! You will give your reasons. Whether you do so willingly or otherwise is your choice.”

“My king, I only meant there is no excuse for what I did,” said Fandral. “But I will give you what passed for one in my mind at the time.” He swallowed. “I remembered all the tales I grew up with about the war and the invasion. I refused to see one of my oldest friends, only a kinsman of the monsters who slew my uncle Hroarr.”

Odin bared his teeth. “If you seek the kinsman of your uncle’s killer, boy, then look to Thor, not Loki.”

Fandral stared up at Odin for the first time, bewildered. “What?” It would have been better if he hadn’t spoken. 

“Hroarr was a traitor!” Odin roared. The sound alone was enough to lay Fandral out flat. Loki could feel it resonating harshly in his bones, and that was only from standing as close as he was to the other man. “He was the reason I have only two sons instead of three. He would have robbed me of Thor and Loki as well when he led his assault on Gladsheim, had he not fallen to my spear. Had I been my father, his entire family would have been executed alongside him and you would never have been born. I see no reason not to correct that oversight now!” 

He raised Gungnir, golden fire shining within his eye. “For your cowardly treason, I hereby sentence you to death.”

Loki had watched it all unfold through a haze of detachment. It was easier that way; he didn’t have to feel the betrayal as much. But he realized all at once that this wasn’t what he wanted. “Father, no!” He stepped between Odin and Fandral and raised his hands. He could feel the surprise of Thor and Sif at his intervention, but he didn’t look at them. 

“Stand aside, Loki!” 

Loki held his ground. “He confessed! Whatever was in his heart when he acted, guilt and reason soon prevailed. He could have attempted to flee, but he came to me and confessed what he had done of his own accord. Must one moment count for so much more than all the years he has fought at my side?” 

He noticed Frigga watching him closely, as though trying to read his thoughts. He gave her the same imploring look he was giving Odin. She reached out and touched Odin’s arm. The pressure in the throne room lightened almost at once, and the fires came back up. Odin was silent for several seconds, eye on Loki. 

“It is you Fandral has hurt, Loki,” he said at last. “I place his life in your hands. You are the only one who can deem it worth sparing. I hope others as foolish as he will learn from the mercy you have shown here.” 

Much of the tension drained from Loki. “Thank you, Father,” he said. He stepped aside and glanced down at Fandral, who was looking up at him in mingled shame, confusion, and gratitude. 

“However,” said Odin. Loki froze, and the little color remaining in Fandral’s face left it. “We do not yet know the full consequences of what you have set in motion. Let them be what determine your fate.” He aimed Gungnir and a golden beam shot from it and engulfed Fandral, who screamed. “Whatever harm befalls Loki from the revelation of his heritage, you shall suffer it twofold.”

The light faded and Fandral was left, shaking, on all fours. He pushed himself unsteadily back to the half-kneeling position and resumed his salute. “It is better than I deserve, my king. How can I repay you?”

“Repay me by keeping the oaths you swore and seeing that others do the same. This is the only reprieve I shall offer you.” He looked away from him with the finality of a dismissal. Fandral was quick to obey it, bowing as he got to his feet and retreating from the throne room without once raising his head. 

Odin turned his gaze to Loki. “You will accompany me to my study.”

“Yes, Father,” said Loki. Odin turned to leave, and Loki hurried to catch up. Frigga seized him for a brief but fierce hug as he passed and kissed him on the cheek, then let him go.

X 

When Thor first entered the throne room, he had wanted to seize Fandral by the throat and demand answers of him. He still could not understand how one who had been so loyal for so long could have faltered in such a way. This was not the original timeline, where suspicious circumstances had abounded and painted Loki in an unfavorable light. Thor had been unhappy his friends were so quick to suspect his brother and attribute to him the worst possible motives, but he had trusted that without those circumstances and with a better understanding, they would remain true this time. With Sif, at least, it appeared he had not been foolish to hope it. 

Yet now, he would not have been sorry to watch his father strike Fandral dead right in front of him. 

Loki’s intervention came as nearly as great a surprise as Fandral’s betrayal, and it was difficult to maintain the same level of anger. Only at that point did he realize that he had just learned something rather startling about the death of the brother he had never known. He looked at his mother. “Baldur was murdered?”

Frigga looked suddenly weary. “Come,” she said, beckoning to both him and Sif. “You may as well learn the rest of it.”

X

Odin stood facing the fire in the study. Geri and Freki huddled atop their bed of furs, tails between their legs as their heads turned from him to Loki and back, a hint of a whine escaping from one of them. 

Loki didn’t dare speak first, and he didn’t have to.

“Why would you spare him?” said Odin. “With one flick of his wrist, he may have put you in more danger than you’ve been in since I found you!”

Loki closed his eyes, bracing for when the same anger from the throne room fell on him. He forced himself to speak. “Because in a way he wasn’t wrong to question my loyalty to Asgard.” His throat was tight and his eyes burned. “I started all this when I showed those Jotnar the way to the Vault.”

Chapter Text

Odin slowly turned around. He said nothing, and his expression said even less. Loki couldn’t bear it, so he kept talking. Now that he had started, it was like floodgates had opened and there was no way to shut them.

“Fandral thought no worse of the Jotnar than I did a month ago. I’m sure he could have thought no worse of me than I thought of myself when you and Mother first explained everything to me, for I knew what I had done and he could only guess.”

Still, Odin didn’t speak, though his brows furrowed and he began walking towards him. Loki managed not to take a step back, but his voice grew slightly higher and his words poured out even faster. “I swear I didn’t want the Jotnar to have the Casket. I knew the Destroyer would stop them. I did it because I thought you and Mother couldn’t see Thor’s hotheadedness and arrogance, and I thought spoiling the coronation would make them obvious to everyone.” The moisture in his eyes was starting to make the image of Odin somewhat blurred. “I was bitter and spiteful, and it seems so ridiculous now that Thor’s discovered his kingly qualities. So I could hardly watch you execute Fandral for a crime I enabled, all while you didn’t know I was guilty of one far worse.” 

By this point, Odin was within an arm’s length of him. His gaze hadn’t wavered once. “No, Loki,” he said. The words lanced through Loki’s heart, and his tears finally spilled over. Was this how it had felt for the other version of himself? Had that Loki deserved it as much as he did? 

But Odin wasn’t done. “I have already said that I had grave misgivings about entrusting Thor with the regency, even for a short time. I confess I was grateful for an excuse to postpone one more Odinsleep. However, I wouldn’t want to make a habit of it, so I am glad we are agreed that further delays are unlikely to be needed.” He walked past Loki to a spindly table near the door, on which sat a tall pitcher of wine and two goblets. 

“But—” Loki spluttered, trying to wrap his mind around this. He felt like he’d just been outmaneuvered at a game of hnefatafl he didn’t even know he was playing. Odin should be furious with him! “But how could you be glad? I consorted with Asgard’s enemies! The guards at the Vault died! The three Jotnar I duped died! I exposed Asgard to ridicule before all of Yggdrasil and made our defenses appear flawed.”

“You mistake me,” said Odin, pouring the wine. “Though I was able to use the outcome to Asgard’s advantage, it is not what I would have chosen. You have always been exceptionally bright, Loki. Perhaps too much so for your own good. Can you not imagine why I might want to downplay an event that some, including a younger version of Thor, would gladly use as a catalyst for war?”

“Of course you don’t want another war—”

Odin waved an impatient hand, nearly sloshing some of the wine out of the goblet he was holding. “It wasn’t about war or peace. There are far more ways to avoid a war than to start one, if avoiding war is your aim.” His gaze fixed on Loki again. “It must have been very distracting for you to watch your brother go from throwing a temper tantrum to weeping with joy at the mere sight of the people around him in the blink of an eye, but did nothing about the earlier events of that day ever strike you as odd?”

Loki frowned while Odin regarded him over the rim of his goblet. He quickly went through the coronation, its disruption, and what followed in his mind. It was odd for an attack on the Vault to be treated simultaneously as an event worth calling off a coronation that was a mere word away from its completion for and as a matter too trivial to merit further investigation. Even odder not to resume the ceremony afterward. 

The answer struck like a blow from Mjolnir. “You knew.”

The corner of Odin’s mouth twitched in a rather grim smile, and he held out the second goblet, which Loki accepted with numb fingers. “I suspected.”

Loki raised the goblet and drained it.

“It was either the work of my clever and frustrated son or someone else who has mastered a cloaking spell powerful enough to hide from Heimdall’s sight,” said Odin. “If the latter, better not to tip my hand too quickly. If the former...”

“Better to act like it was nothing, because your initial response would set the expectations for how the culprit should be punished if caught by anyone other than you.”

“Very good.” Odin sipped more of the wine, apparently savoring it.

Loki felt very frustrated indeed, not to mention irritated at having been described as such. “But how could you be so certain—I could have had any number of terrible motives for bringing Jotnar into the Vault!”

“You could have, yes,” Odin agreed. “None of them seemed especially likely. Don’t forget that I grew up with elder brothers whom I loved and hated in equal measure too.”

Loki grimaced, thinking of what he’d shouted at Fandral earlier. “Not equal.”

“No,” said Odin. He sounded wistful. “Perhaps not. But that is the way of brothers. They can bring out the best in you and the very worst.” He reached up and gripped Loki’s shoulder. “You ask how I could be certain of you? I chose to trust in your better nature, and you have borne that out.” 

“Then what is my punishment to be?”

Odin actually chuckled. “If I tried, I could not craft one more effective than your conscience already has.”

Loki was struck by the incongruity between his father’s response to the two crimes confessed today. It should be a relief that Odin’s anger had only been on his behalf, and that he had gone to great lengths to keep suspicion he had more than earned from falling on him. It would be absurd to want to be punished for what he had done. And yet he couldn’t be satisfied with this outcome. “You were prepared to execute Fandral after less than a minute of deliberation,” he said. “And Thor told me a little of what he lived through the first time. His tantrum was only the beginning. Mere hours later, he had started a war with Jotunheim, and he said that you punished him by stripping his powers and banishing him to Midgard as a mortal.”

Odin’s eyebrows lifted. “You would prefer that I do the same to you now?”

“Why not?” Loki gestured out at the view of Asgard at the other end of the room. “I set the stage for Thor to start a war. Only intervention from an Infinity Stone stopped that from playing out.”

“Was war your goal?”

“Of course not, but—”

“Then why should I punish you for what might have been? Fandral is my subject and he put my son, his companion of many years and one to whom he swore oaths of loyalty, at great risk. Thor held the responsibilities of Crown Prince, was a hair’s breadth from holding the responsibilities of King, and he threw them aside for a chance to soothe his wounded pride. You don’t need some great punishment to understand the gravity of your actions.” His tone became stern. “To craft one for you would be both overindulgent and reckless. How would the people react if, a day after I satisfied their curiosity about your origins and praised you openly to them, I were to declare you unworthy of your title and powers and cast you out of the realm?”

Loki’s insides twisted and he looked down. He knew that would not go well. 

“I will hear no more talk of punishments,” said Odin, patting Loki on the shoulder and turning to face the fire again. “We shall carry on as a united front. If you are burdened by your guilt, I suggest you ponder what you are prepared to do to put things right.”

X

Walking down the Hall of Images, which included several depictions of Asgard’s history as misleading as those on the ceiling of the throne room, it took about half an hour for Frigga to calmly and gently explain what Odin had hidden with a fiction about a Jotnar invasion. Sif asked most of the questions; Thor just walked and absorbed it all. He had made vague assumptions in this direction after learning that Hela existed and had slaughtered the Valkyrior, but there had always been more pressing matters to deal with than learning the details, both before and after he picked up the Time Stone, so it had fallen to the back of his mind. 

He was not pleased with his father’s decision to paint over the whole thing with lies, but even he had to admit that Odin had done it with good reason. If no one remembered Hela, then there would be no unrepentant tyrannical figure for the more bloodthirsty of the people to rally around. Easy way out or not, it had ensured peace within the realm for nearly all of Thor’s life—except for the part where it left Asgard entirely unprepared to face Hela if she ever returned. 

Sif was most horrified to learn that the women she looked up to had been killed by the once Crown Princess while Odin was occupied defending the palace (and specifically his remaining sons) from the onslaught of her supporters. 

When she had finished answering all questions, Frigga clasped Sif’s hands briefly, pulled Thor into a hug (he wasn’t in the mood for it at first but melted within seconds and found himself returning the embrace with all his heart), and left them to attend to her other duties. Thor watched her go. 

Sif touched his arm. “How long have you known about Hela and Baldur?”

“Father told Loki and me about Hela right before he died in my time, and moments later she broke free of Niflheim, destroyed Mjolnir with one hand, and attacked. It was about two weeks for me between then and when I came back, but I think it must have been longer on Asgard. She killed so many of the people, including Hogun, Volstagg, and Fan—” He broke off, clenching his fists. The very thought of Fandral still made him furious, but it was harder to hold onto that feeling when thinking of how he had died. “I only learned of Baldur the day Mother and Father told Loki of his origins, but I didn’t know Hela’s supporters were responsible for his death until today.”

They looked up at a massive painting of the battle in which Odin had taken Utgard. Icy battlements shattered, the gold inlays in Asgard’s forces gleamed, and the wings of the Valkyrior’s mounts beat the air. 

“I would have supported you in any case, but I understand your desire for an alliance with Jotunheim better now,” said Sif.

“Why is that?” said Thor.

“If the Jotnar never invaded Asgard, if the Valkyrior didn’t fall protecting Asgard from them, and if your brother is one of them, then why not try for something more than this truce, especially when we all have common enemies to face?”

“Why indeed,” said Thor. Against all odds, he found himself smiling. “I am glad of your support.” He glanced in the general direction of Odin’s study many floors above. “I wonder if Loki is still speaking with Father.”

Sif’s expression fell into a cross grimace before she could smooth it back to neutrality, and Thor regretted saying it aloud. He appreciated the effort she was making at solidarity even so soon after Loki had wounded her with his accusation, but he wondered if maybe some time and distance would benefit them both. With that in mind, a bright idea occurred to him. He finally knew which of the items on his to-do list he should approach next.

X

Loki had barely left the study when a familiar booming voice hailed him from down the corridor. “Loki! There you are.” Thor came jogging up to him. Loki found it absolutely obscene that his brother could manage to be in such a good mood at a time like this, when he still felt so unsettled after the meeting with Odin. 

“What are you so pleased about?” he said.

“Barton and Romanoff return to Earth soon. I think we should go with them. We can have a break from all that’s going on around here, and you’ll be able to meet Rogers this time.”

Loki’s mouth had opened automatically to protest Thor once again making assumptions about how he would be spending his time, but then he actually thought about it and realized that he welcomed any excuse to get away from Asgard just now. “Agreed,” he said, resigned. “When do we leave?”

Thor beamed and clapped him on the back. “As early as this evening, though it might make more sense to wait until morning. I’ll go find Banner and see if he’ll come. If he does, it’ll be the whole team!”

“I’m inviting Brunnhilde,” said Loki. Thor was always the one with a selection of hangers-on to choose from when heading off on an adventure. Now he could see how he liked it when Loki did it to him.

“Wonderful!” said Thor, his grin getting even wider. “It’ll be the Avengers and the Revengers at the same time!” Loki suppressed a scowl, neither knowing nor caring what the Revengers were. Of course more company wouldn’t bother Thor. But he did still want to ask her. She might be keen to get away from Asgard too. 

X

Brunnhilde had once again stayed the night at The King’s Spear, and the first thing she’d done on waking was to find the nearest seamstress, leatherworks, and armory shop and buy herself some less conspicuous clothing. By this point, so many people on Asgard had seen her face that it might not make a difference, but she felt much more comfortable when she walked back out onto the street wearing sensible leathers anyway. The best part was that it actually smelled like leather, which meant her sense of smell must be nearly recovered. 

She hoped the royal secretary wouldn’t find out about it anytime soon, but next she started looking at some of the places on the list of suitable lodgings. If she chose one in the city proper, it would mean being close to the mead halls, but it would also mean being close to more people, and she hadn’t decided which factor mattered more yet. 

All of them felt more like home already than her flat on Sakaar ever had, which was annoying. She couldn’t afford to get comfortable. At the moment, she was in the middle of exploring the third place, the oldest of the ones she’d seen, made of stone and with a large balcony that had a clear view of the palace gardens. She stopped a moment to savor the view and see if she could spot a certain archway in the middle of all the vibrant colors, when a white-crested raven landed on the balustrade next to her. If it had been all black, she would have given it a wide berth in case it was one of Odin’s, but she approached this one with a hand held out. 

It remained still and let her stroke its feathers, its eyes falling closed. She smiled. Even at her most cynical and asocial, Brunnhilde had always loved animals. The ones on Sakaar decidedly had not loved her back, and she had missed little interactions like this. They reminded her of her childhood. However, after a few seconds, green-gold light began to shine from the bird. She folded her arms and watched its shape grow larger and resolve into the outline of a tall, lean Aes man. 

“Are you ever going to show up as yourself?” 

Loki smirked, the last traces of light vanishing. “Where would be the fun in that?” 

“How long were you flying around looking for me?”

“Not long. I have a proposition for you.”

“Oh yeah?” 

He caught up her hands in his. “How would you like to come to Midgard with me? Thor’s going too, but we can ignore him.”

Brunnhilde snorted at the idea and idly twined their fingers together. “As fun as that sounds, I actually have a few things I need to take care of here.”

“You’re staying on Asgard, then?” he said, apparently so pleased at the thought that it overshadowed any disappointment over her rejection of his invitation. 

“For now.”

He looked at the unoccupied chambers behind her. “Is that why you’re here?” 

She shrugged. “I haven’t decided.”

He made a vague noise in reply. He seemed a little distracted. “What, checking to see if we’re about to be ambushed again?” she asked.

“Hmm? Oh, no.” He leaned back against the stone railing. “It’s been an eventful morning, that’s all.”

She swung her legs up across the top so that she was sitting facing the opposite way from him. “What happened?” 

He still held one of her hands, and he traced his thumb over the back of it. “It wasn’t an accident, our landing in that square. Of the two people who could have done it, I accused the wrong one.”

Brunnhilde hadn’t been paying a lot of attention to the people they were with when Loki tricked her into hitching an instantaneous ride back to Asgard with him—aside from the hot redhead, anyway—but if it wasn’t any of the humans, that left Sif and the blond pretty-boy...Fandral, if she was remembering right. “So, Fandral. Asshole.”

Loki blinked. “How—? Never mind. If you’re staying here while Thor and I go to Midgard, then there’s a favor I’d like to ask of you.”

“Punch Fandral in the face until he’s not so pretty?” she guessed. “Would’ve happened the next time he tried his gallant warrior act on me anyway.”

“No! It’s not about him. It’s about Sif.” 

Brunnhilde wrinkled her nose slightly. “What about her?”

“If you can spare an hour or two in the next few days, do you think you might offer to spar with her? She’s nearly always at the palace training grounds in the morning.”

“You want me to butter her up for you so that your apology will go over better when you get back,” said Brunnhilde, eyebrows raised.

“Obviously,” he said, lifting her hand to his lips so he could kiss the knuckles. “But she doesn’t need to know that.” The humor left his features. “She’s dreamed of being a Valkyrie her whole life. If I’m being fair to her, she’s probably come as close to it as anyone can without the official training. Just one bout against you would mean the world to her.”

A large part of Brunnhilde wanted to refuse anything that further solidified her in the role of Asgard’s long lost Valkyrie, particularly in the eyes of someone who definitely didn’t need further assistance in hero-worshiping her, but unlike many of the people badgering her at the banquet, Sif had actually noticed that she didn’t want the attention and hadn’t crowded her. “I’ll think about it,” she said.

Chapter Text

After everything that happened on Sakaar, learning about Hydra lurking inside SHIELD, and all the royal drama on Asgard, the strangest part of Clint's week was still having a casual family breakfast with aliens who looked like medieval fantasy characters. What made it so strange was how ordinary it felt. His wife and kids could just as easily have been chatting and laughing with their own neighbors.

Lila, who insisted on sitting next to Gerd, barely paid attention to her food because she was more interested in interrogating her about her fairy princess friend. Laura served as referee, but Gerd seemed very charmed by Lila’s enthusiasm and answered all of her questions readily. Cooper and the other boy, Leif, kept asking Fjolnir to freeze individual grapes for them. 

For the first few minutes, Clint felt kinda unsure what to do with himself, but then Freyr asked him about the bow and quiver he’d been given at the banquet, which led to an animated discussion about archery. Before too long, the boys left to resume their snow battle. The conversations between Clint and Freyr and Lila, Gerd, and Laura moved to the comfortable settees around a fancy kind of fire pit. 

Clint didn’t realize how long they’d been chatting until Nat showed up. He thought the other family was just as sorry for their time together to come to an end as his. If Thor and Loki ever offered to invite them back, he definitely wasn’t going to say no.

When Nat and his family got back to their guest rooms, she pulled him aside (Laura obligingly marshalled the kids in getting ready to go). 

“Have you decided?”

“We put everything that happened in the report, but we leave out what Thor told us.”

She nodded. “What about our souvenirs? Turn over the weapons and bracers from Sakaar, but leave out the translators?”

“Yeah, and we tell them about Odin’s gifts,” said Clint. “Fitzsimmons won’t be able to do anything with those anyway, and they only work for us.”

“Okay,” said Nat. “Thor says he and Loki want to come back to Earth, since Steve Rogers is awake.”

“Should be fun.”

X

It was with some apprehension that Loki returned to the palace and went to the rooms where the House of Freyr had been staying. He half-expected them to have already cleared out while the events of the morning unfolded, but he found Gerd and Fjolnir there, halfway through what looked like the boy’s seidr lessons. Fjolnir was the first to spot him, and his face split in a grin. “Hello, Loki!”  

Whatever had happened last night hadn’t done too much damage, then. “Hello, Fjolnir. I was hoping to catch you before you left, if only to say farewell.”

“Actually,” said Gerd, touching Fjolnir’s shoulder. “We’ve decided to stay a while longer.”

A not insignificant portion of the anxiety in Loki’s stomach disappeared at that. “That’s wonderful news,” he said. “Although...it will make this somewhat awkward. I’m going to Midgard with my brother. We shouldn’t be more than a few days.”

Fjolnir looked slightly crestfallen, but Gerd let out a laugh. “Well, perhaps we can pay a short visit to my parents on Alfheim, then. We’d be able to collect a few books for you on the Jotnar, Jotunheim, and frjosleikr.”

“I would be very grateful,” said Loki.

X

“I’m just not sure it’s such a good idea for me to go back,” said Bruce.

“Come on,” wheedled Thor. “Don’t you want to meet Stark and Captain Rogers with us?”

“Under SHIELD’s supervision? Yeah, that’s gonna go great. If something goes wrong—”

“What could go wrong?” said Thor. “If you turn into the Hulk, I can keep you contained.”

Bruce was skeptical. “Both of the last two times that happened, when I came back, you looked like you’d just lost a boxing match, and it wasn’t just you.”

Loki opened his mouth to speak, but Bruce cut him off. “And I don’t want you pretending to be Betty again. That was just weird.”

“That isn’t what I was going to suggest,” said Loki haughtily. “Not that I choose my strategies to accommodate other people’s notions of ‘weird’. If at any point it looks like SHIELD or some other interfering party might try anything, I can simply cloak you and change your appearance again. You can return to the Bifrost site and Heimdall can retrieve you, and there won’t be anything the other mortals can do about it.”

“Oh.” Bruce tried to come up with a good enough objection. When none occurred to him, he sighed. “I guess I kinda owe you guys anyway. When are we going?”

“Tomorrow!” said Thor, beaming.

X

“Sir, you wanted to be informed if I detected any signs of movement between Earth and Asgard.”

Tony rolled out from under the car he was in the middle of dismantling as a break from repairing and fine-tuning the Mark VI and drawing up schematics for its successor. “Missouri again?” he asked, grabbing his water bottle and taking a swig. So nice not to be drinking a daily gallon of chlorophyll anymore. His taste buds had nearly recovered from the super secret, mostly ineffective heavy metal detox diet (not to mention all the palladium itself), and he was looking forward to being able to enjoy the food on the next date night as much as Pepper.

“Yes, the same place as yesterday. Then the spot just outside the capital moments later.”

Tony wilted slightly. Thor and Loki had made it sound like they were going to be making regular visits, but so far he hadn’t heard a peep and the only people Asgard seemed to be interacting with were those SHIELD guys and, for some reason, a farm family in the heartland. One afternoon had not been enough time to pick the brains of the Super Viking Bros. “They don’t call, they don’t write…,” he grumbled petulantly. 

“Surely this counts for something.” 

It was a good thing Tony wasn’t under the Rolls anymore or he would have bashed his head against the undercarriage when he jumped out of his skin. Loki was standing inexplicably in his garage a few yards away, glancing around at his collection of very new and very classic cars like he wasn’t quite sure what the point of them was, which made Tony instantly curious about the vehicles he was used to. Then again, maybe it was just beaming up all over the place, magic flying hammers, and turning into animals.

“Hey, no fair. You turned me into a squirrel last time; the least you can do is give me a chance to get the drop on you when you show up again.” He pointed at him with a screwdriver. “Don’t think I’m not gonna get you back.”

Loki gave him what looked like a sincerely delighted grin. Tony had to wonder if nobody had ever done this guy the courtesy of participating in a prank war with him. A voice in the back of his mind (which sounded a lot like his girlfriend’s) asked if it was really a good idea to get into that kind of thing with the actual God of Mischief, or if he should be tipping said God of Mischief off to it up front. He replied mentally with a childish “he started it.” The voice was much easier to win arguments against than the real Pepper.

“So what’s the deal?” he asked, getting up and walking closer. “JARVIS said your fancy light show just touched down on the other side of the country. Did you teleport over to Malibu to say hi?”

“The Bifrost merely returned Barton and Romanoff home,” said Loki. “I am still on Asgard.”

Tony blinked. “What, so this is like a hologram?” 

“Nothing so crude as that, though I suppose the function is similar.” 

Tony poked the screwdriver at Loki’s chest. It went straight through with a glimmer of that same green-gold light that had been the last thing he saw before the squirrel transformation. “And you can just make one of these appear when you’re not even on the same planet?”

“It is a simple matter to send one anywhere I have been physically. Much more difficult if the location is unfamiliar to me.”

Tony shook his head. “I gotta know how this works. Any progress on that?”

“I haven’t had as much time to research it as I would have liked,” said Loki with a grimace. “Other matters have arisen.”

“Well it’s nice you took time out of your busy schedule to kinda pop down here,” said Tony. He traded his screwdriver for the open pack of freeze-dried pineapple sitting next to the toolbox. It wasn’t his favorite snack, but anything he could tip out of a packet directly into his mouth saved him a trip into the house to wash the grease off his hands.

“My brother and I will be coming back to Earth tomorrow, and bringing Dr. Banner with us. We likely won’t stay long, and we’d prefer not to have to use SHIELD as an intermediary if possible.”

“And you came to me for help working outside the system? I’m flattered.” It wasn’t even sarcasm. This was going to be fun.

“We trust you, and though we also trust certain of SHIELD’s agents, they are an organization of spies.”

Tony folded his arms, munching on pineapple. That was interesting. “So what are you hoping I can do for you?”

“It involves Steven Rogers,” said Loki.

Tony nearly choked. “Uh, what now?” he spluttered. “Steven Rogers, as in Captain America?” 

“Our Gatekeeper watched as SHIELD retrieved him from where he was entombed in ice. He lives. Barton and Romanoff will try to ensure he can meet with us when we come, but in the event that their superiors disagree…”

“You want me to muscle my way through.”

“If you would be so kind.”

The implications of all this were pretty mind boggling. Aside from Loki’s and Thor’s own powers (each brother being at least a match for Beige Knockoff Hulk and a swarm of Hammer drones on his own), Asgard apparently had some pretty intense surveillance capabilities, which they were using to keep tabs on spies and frozen American super-soldiers. “Why the interest in Rogers?”

“He, like you, Banner, my brother, and I, is on the list Director Fury wants for his Avengers Initiative. If we are all to be shield-brothers, we should meet together.”

“Yeah, I dunno if Fury mentioned this to you guys, but I’m not really big on teams,” said Tony. 

“Nor am I,” said Loki. “But there are times when circumstances require them.” His tone became very dry. “Of course, we could always wait until one of our worlds is in peril to learn how to work together. ”

“You and Thor are more powerful than anything my planet’s got. Why do you need help from guys like us?”

“I asked the same question myself, but that was before Barton and Romanoff proved critical to our quest on a planet called Sakaar, well outside Yggdrasil. If not for them, I might even now be in the clutches of an intergalactic warlord.”

Damn, Romanoff really was slumming it with that whole model-turned-corporate schtick, Tony thought. What he said aloud was, “Aw, come on, the spies got to go to another planet? What am I, chopped liver?”

“It was sort of a spur of the moment affair, seeing as the window of opportunity opened in the middle of their official visit.” Loki raised an eyebrow. “Besides, I thought you weren’t big on teams.”

Tony shot him a flat glare. “Touché. Well, I guess I’ll see if I can scare up soldier boy for you.”

“Until tomorrow, then,” said Loki, inclining his head. Then his form flickered and vanished. 

Tony dumped more pineapple into his mouth and stared at the spot where the magic hologram had been. He could count on one hand the number of people his dad had respected more than Steve Rogers, and he’d grown up torn between admiration and resentment of the guy because of it. Failing to recover his friend’s body had been one of Howard Stark’s biggest regrets, and now it turned out he was still alive. This could get weird. But that wasn’t the only thing. “Hey JARVIS, can you send the footage from the garage to my workshop? I wanna see how magic shows up on Earth tech.” 

“Right away, sir.”

X

Alexander Pierce tossed the Barton-Romanoff mission report back down on his desk with a frown. The thing belonged in the science fiction section at Barnes & Noble, even more so than some of the 084 operations he’d overseen in recent years. Barton and Romanoff had been to multiple planets in the last few days (which had totaled about twice as many actual days for them as had elapsed on Earth), gotten a good idea of Asgard’s goals, and brought back some neat trinkets—not that R&D would be able to do much with a couple of those, since they were magic. 

Pierce was frustrated. It hadn’t been possible to add a Hydra agent to the mission. Barton and Romanoff were the best in all of SHIELD; you didn’t bench one of them in favor of someone else or add a third wheel on an assignment this critical to the security and interests of the planet without raising a few eyebrows. That was his own fault. He should have ensured that at least one of his people was just as capable as those two, but none of the current crop was quite there. Garrett was past his peak, Rumlow would only ever be a blunt instrument, Sitwell was too critical to domestic operations to be sent off-world, and Grant Ward was still too green. 

Now, in addition to Coulson’s attaché position, two of Fury’s other most loyal had managed to personally befriend the powerful alien princes, not to mention gain their trust. It would be a real bitch to get any of his people in their ears now. 

He was going to have to settle for getting ears on them, and he was going to have to do it fast.

Chapter Text

Steve’s first thought when he began to notice all the little incongruous details around him—the smell, the old ball game, the girl’s hair and, well, shape—was that he had woken up in some kind of Hydra compound and they were trying to manipulate him. After running out into an almost completely unfamiliar Times Square, there was nothing for him to do but accept that this couldn’t be Hydra’s doing. 

The truth was worse. He had been frozen for sixty-six years. An entire lifetime had passed him by, the world had changed, his country had changed, the war was long over, and nearly everyone he had known and loved was gone. 

Director Fury brought him from New York to D.C. in a helicopter that barely resembled the ones Steve was used to. On the way, he told him about the end of the war and gave him an abbreviated history of SHIELD. It had been founded by Howard Stark, Colonel Phillips, and Peggy Carter. Fury had a very knowing look in his eye when he mentioned those names, especially the third one. It was a pretty transparent way of trying to make Steve feel like he was already connected to the organization, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t effective. How could he not want to be part of what they had built? Where else was he supposed to go anyway? He wasn’t going to make it too easy for Fury, though. He asked to see the files of everyone he’d fought alongside in the war before he made any decisions. Fury agreed.

Steve had pictured some kind of bunker or disguised building for SHIELD’s headquarters, like the way things had been with the SSR, but the Triskelion was huge, obvious, and impressive. After getting him a lanyard to wear with a plastic card that had a large 3 on it, Fury showed him around a little. He concluded the partial tour in a room that looked like it was made entirely out of polished, unpainted steel. He said it was the medical lab, and they were soon joined there by a clipboard-carrying brunette in a white coat who couldn't be much older than twenty. 

“The doctors in New York said there were no signs of lasting damage from the crash or the ice,” said Fury, “but I’d like Dr. Simmons to have a look now that you’re awake.” He turned to the brunette, who Steve guessed was probably a nurse. “You need anything from me?”

“No, thank you, Director,” she said. “I’ve already read everything Coulson sent over.” She was English. Steve wondered if it was time, distance, or education that accounted for the small differences between her accent and Peggy’s. Or maybe there wasn’t really much of a difference, and the sharp contrast of current hair, makeup, and clothing styles to what he was used to just made it seem like there should be one. 

Fury nodded and left. Steve glanced around for any signs of the Dr. Simmons he had mentioned, but it was just him and the Englishwoman. “Well, if you’ll just have a seat over here, Captain Rogers,” she said, gesturing to a cushioned exam table that actually did look similar to ones he’d seen in doctor’s offices before. “I suppose Director Fury thought the usual medical staff might be a little out of their depth on this. I spend most of my time in the R&D lab, not working with patients directly.”

Steve stared at her. “You’re Dr. Simmons?” he blurted. 

She frowned and looked at him with professional concern. “There wasn’t anything in your file about trouble with short-term memory. It could be a concussion. Have you been experiencing any headaches, dizziness, nausea...?”

Steve’s cheeks and ears began heating up. “Oh, no, ma’am, I just…I thought you were the nurse.” The way her face fell made him feel like he was 5’4” again. Wonderful. Now he got to pile decades of cultural change on top of the standard awkwardness he already felt when talking to women. “I’m sorry. I should’a realized.”

There was a brief, uncomfortable pause, but then she offered a smile far kinder than what he felt like he deserved at the moment. “I suppose you have a better excuse than most for making that assumption. Welcome to the 21st century, where a twenty-two-year-old woman can be one of the top scientists in a major intelligence organization.” She finished off with a curtsey that nearly made her stumble. 

Steve felt a little better. “I’d tip my hat, but it seems like nobody wears them anymore.” Her smile widened at that, and he sat down on the exam table. He thought of how hard Peggy had fought to get where she was and decided that maybe some good had come out of those sixty-six years. He just wished he could’ve gotten here the long way. A little of what was going through his head must’ve shown on his face, because her smile faded.

“Are you alright?” she asked. “This must all be such a shock.”

“It doesn’t feel real,” he admitted.

“You must be bursting with questions.”

“Starting with the fifty gadgets in this room that I’ve never seen before? Yeah.”

“I’m sure you’ll have no shortage of people eager to help you acclimate. And there’s no need to rush.”

Dr. Simmons ran a few basic tests on things like his blood pressure, eyesight, and reflexes, drew a small amount of blood, asked him questions about how he felt now compared to before the ice, and wrote a lot of things down on the clipboard. She quickly determined that he appeared to show no side-effects from being frozen so long and was very intrigued by the implications that could have for research into cryogenics. Barring any unexpected results from the tests she was going to run on the blood sample, she was giving him a clean bill of health. He was sorry to part company with her; she was probably the most comforting person he’d interacted with so far.

Next, he was shown to the mess hall, where he was stunned by the variety of food available, and even more by the glum attitudes all the SHIELD agents seemed to view it with. He didn’t even know what some of the food was, but nobody batted an eye when he loaded his tray with portions of as many different things as he could fit. He barely remembered what sugar tasted like after years of war rations, but it didn’t take many bites of chocolate pudding before he decided that people must have gotten overexcited about being able to use it freely again and overdid it. It wasn’t only in the pudding, either. It seemed like it was in almost everything baked or mixed. He made a mental note to stick more to the meats, produce, and dairy next time. None of that had come out of a can and it looked pretty good.

Steve’s (hopefully temporary) accommodations on the dormitory level were extremely off-putting. The walls, floor, ceiling, and all the furniture were flat white and didn’t have a smell, and the window didn’t open. Fury had already made good on his promise, however. The desk was stacked with and surrounded by boxes of files stamped with the SHIELD emblem. He pulled off the lid of the nearest one and dug in.

X

Not counting his second tour in Vietnam, General Thaddeus “Thunderbolt” Ross had never had a worse month in his military career. After five years of searching, he finally had Banner in his grasp, only for him to seemingly vanish off the face of the Earth, along with every scrap of Samuel Sterns’s research and the top third of Emil Blonsky. 

With Banner, Blonsky, and Sterns all dead or missing and his daughter (who was back to not speaking to him) publishing op-eds in several papers about the consequences of military overreach, Ross was the most convenient figure for Congress and the press to blame. He’d been dragged before the Senate Ethics, Armed Forces, Homeland Security, Intelligence, and Judiciary committees over the destruction in Harlem and his handling of the failed Bio-Tech Force Enhancement Project while the media dragged his name and career through the mud. 

He also had reason to believe that SHIELD had interfered in his operations, which was infuriating, because as long as he was standing in this shit pile, he lacked the leverage to do anything about it. He needed a win, the bigger the better. 

So when word reached him that Captain America was alive and well and at SHIELD’s D.C. headquarters, he knew exactly what he had to do.

X

Fury hadn’t skimped on the files. Steve spent the bulk of the afternoon poring over what was in the first couple of boxes—mostly the service records of the Howling Commandos and information about the lives they had lived after the war, all the way up to their obituaries, which were spread out over the last couple of decades, except for Junior, who was killed in action on a mission in ‘46. Among the Commandos’ kids were two Stevens and a Stephanie. Dugan, Pinky, Morita, and Gabe all had grandkids who were now older than they’d been what felt like a couple of days ago to Steve. It made for bittersweet reading material. Steve was happy that so many of his brothers-in-arms had led such fulfilling lives. Really, he was. No one deserved it more. But he hadn’t gotten to see any of it. They, like Bucky, were gone. 

Next was the box of files on Stark. It came as no surprise to learn that it had taken him much longer to settle down and start a family than the others, but it was good to know that he did stop breaking hearts and get around to it eventually. Entire folders contained nothing but partially redacted schematics and patents for some of his inventions. He’d put a lot of his ingenuity towards weapons technology even after the war ended. 

A big chunk of Stark’s research had revolved around that glowing blue cube Steve had knocked out of its setting on the Hydra plane. There was a page of notes in Stark’s writing from the day he found it. It hadn’t been long after Steve’s crash, and Stark sounded torn between excitement at the possibilities the cube offered and frustration that there was no longer a trail he could follow in his search of the downed plane. The small, blotched, “What the hell am I supposed to tell Carter?” at the bottom of the page was like a knife in the heart, but Steve allowed himself to hope that maybe Stark was still alive. After everything he’d missed, maybe he could at least remove this one regret from him. 

But then he came, abruptly, to a full front page of the Washington Times. 

New York, Friday, December 17, 1991.

HOWARD AND MARIA STARK DIE IN CAR ACCIDENT ON LONG ISLAND

He dropped the folder back into the box like it was a venomous snake. 

The top folder in the fourth box had a photograph of Peggy paperclipped to the front. He stood there staring at it as if he had frozen solid again. What was he going to find in there? Was it going to end with another obituary, or a dramatic newspaper article? He didn’t know if he could stand seeing that after everything else. He was starting to wish he hadn’t asked for these files so soon. He owed it to all of them to read every last word, and it seemed wrong to make them wait even longer on him, but...

The muffled sound of rapidly approaching voices in the hall outside his room broke him out of his thoughts. 

“Sir, it’s not agency protocol, you can’t just—”

“You people can play your secret agent games with someone else. He’s Army. If anyone should have the first shot at offering that soldier a future in modern America, it’s us, not SHIELD.”

The door flew open, revealing a man somewhere around his late fifties, taller than Steve but not quite as broad. His slightly disheveled salt-and-pepper hair and mustache were at odds with the crisp, heavily decorated Army greens that identified him as a three-star general. The much shorter, slightly chubby man who had given Steve his lanyard when he first arrived was trailing in the general’s wake, huffing in exasperation. 

Steve had rarely worked with anyone higher up than Colonel Phillips, and he had to make a conscious effort not to immediately snap to attention, though he did stand up straighter and turn to face the general fully. 

“Captain Rogers,” he said, striding into the room. “It’s an honor to meet you.” He stuck out a large, square hand. “I’m General Ross.”

“Sir,” said Steve, shaking it.

“It might not be much of a thank you for everything you’ve done for this country, but I’d like to buy you a drink,” said Ross. He said it in that tone superior officers used whenever they were giving you an order but didn’t want to explicitly phrase it as one. Given that Steve was not one of this man’s soldiers, he wasn’t sure how he felt about that, but he’d take just about any excuse to postpone looking at the rest of those files right now.

“I’d appreciate it.”

“Fine,” said the agent, arms folded and chin jutting out, “but you’ll at least have to sign out!”

X

Ross drove him from the Triskelion a few miles to his favorite bar. Steve found it more reassuring than it probably should have been, considering that he wasn’t going to be able to get drunk anyway, when the bartender knew what he meant when he asked for a Manhattan. Ross ordered straight whiskey and lit a cigar while they waited for their drinks. He asked Steve a little about his service in World War II and told him some of what his father had done as an officer in the Pacific theater, but he spent a lot more time telling stories about his own experience in the Vietnam War (which Steve had a vague idea of after some of the stuff in the files he’d read). 

By about the third whiskey, Ross had developed a habit of calling Steve “son” and slapping him on the shoulder, and he brought the topic around to some of the work he’d done in more recent years. “What Howard Stark and Abraham Erskine pulled off with Project Rebirth was incredible,” he said as Steve finished the last of his second drink. “It’s a damn shame neither of them lived to see that dream fully realized. In seventy years, the US military has never been able to duplicate it. But now that we have you back,” he reached for Steve’s shoulder again, “we can finally change that.”

Erskine had been one of the few people in Steve’s pre-serum life who hadn’t dismissed him after a single glance, and he’d had to watch him die. Stark had worked with him and the Commandos for over a year. But the way Ross said their names, they were just faceless men whose only relevance came from achievements he wanted to outdo. Steve had seen ambition and greed before, and it seemed that time hadn’t changed much about the way they looked in a person’s eye. In Ross’s, they were mixed with bitterness and maybe even a little desperation. There couldn’t be many people who already knew that Captain America was miraculously still alive, let alone where to find him, and yet this general had shown up in person the first day he was awake, and he was already talking about Project Rebirth. 

“You have a lot of experience with attempts to duplicate the super-soldier serum, General?” said Steve, keeping his tone bland. “I get the feeling they didn’t go too well.”

Ross’s grip on his glass tumbler visibly tightened, and he let out a laugh that contained a lot more anger than humor. “You could say that.”

“Worse than a Hydra agent blowing up the place, shooting Erskine, and almost escaping with the last vial of serum?”

Ross had enough tact to dial the anger back at the reminder that he wasn’t the only one this was personal for. “Our best scientist insisted on being the first test subject.”

“Did it kill him?”

“No,” said Ross. “It changed him. He destroyed the lab with his bare hands in seconds, and a lot of good people died. Instead of taking responsibility and turning himself in, he went on the run.” 

He looked like he could go on for quite a while about the fugitive scientist, but that wasn’t what Steve was most interested in. “That wasn't the only experiment, was it?” he said. “Were the others before or after that one? How did those go?”

Ross’s eyes narrowed and he said nothing, which made Steve suspect that the other attempts had come after and gone even worse. Ross obviously hadn’t expected Steve to be this sharp and just as obviously would have preferred it if he wasn’t—or at least that the steady flow of drinks might make up the difference.

 “We’re getting a little far into the weeds,” said Ross coldly. He turned to the bartender. “Get him another Manhattan. I’ll be back in a minute.” Getting up off his stool, he leaned a little closer to Steve. “I hope you’ll realize the good we could do for this country by working together.”

“Yes sir,” said Steve. 

Ross made his way down the bar towards the bathroom, and the bartender slid Steve his Manhattan. 

“Well if it isn’t the American legend in the flesh,” said a voice from his right. Steve turned to face the speaker and had to stop himself from staring. The facial hair was wrong and so was the suit, but it was almost like he was looking at an older Howard Stark. “Got a tip you might be up and about. Fury tell you about the Avengers Initiative yet?”

X

The stealth operative was good at her job, but she didn’t enjoy it. It was true that there weren’t many other professions that would make such effective use of her skills—not respectable ones, at least—, and she couldn’t really imagine doing anything else with herself. And yet, the longer she spied and sabotaged and infiltrated and assassinated for SHIELD, the louder the little voice in the back of her mind grew. 

“They’re only using you,” it whispered. “Just ask about their progress again and it’ll be the same answer as always. Why would they keep a promise that would only make you useless to them?” 

She hadn’t given up hope yet, though there were starting to be days when she came very close to it. 

Instead of getting a briefing packet on her next mission, she received a personal call from Secretary Pierce. That it was from Pierce wasn’t too unusual. She might only be clearance level 5, but her missions never came from anyone lower than level 8. She hated the little thrill of excitement that shot through her, though. If Pierce was personally giving her an assignment, maybe it meant they were making progress. 

He met her at a pizza parlor a few miles from the Triskelion, dressed like he was about to go to a baseball game. The place was busy and loud—just hectic enough that no one would pay them any attention. This was lucky, because when Pierce informed her that a couple of mythological figures who turned out to be thousand-year-old aliens had turned up on Earth a few weeks ago, she nearly choked on her root beer in spite of her spy training. She always had to be very careful when she ate or drank anything, because there were a lot of ways it could go wrong, most of them painful. She barely managed not to make a scene.

“It’s been less than a month since these Asgardians first showed up, and two of our best assets already trust them. That wouldn’t worry me if I could be sure it was mutual. Even the Director isn’t being as cautious as I’d like him to be on this. Before we get in any deeper, we need to learn more.”

And so of course she was the one for the job. She nodded. 

“They’ll be back on Earth in a matter of hours. Your assignment is to shadow them and report back directly to me. The intelligence you collect could determine whether we have a viable interplanetary alliance on our hands or an extraterrestrial enemy we need to prepare for, and our best weapon will be that they don’t know we suspect anything.”

“Understood.”

Chapter Text

All the stories Tony’s dad had told him about working with Captain America in the war had been running through his mind during his flight to the Virginia house, and then throughout the drive to the capital. As a boy, he’d been in awe of those stories, but the older he got, the more they felt like a standard he could never reach, and as an increasingly jaded adult who saw the fakeness and hypocrisy of so many of the people around him, he’d started to look back on them with skepticism. 

Now, actually sitting on a bar stool next to Steve Rogers, Tony wondered what sort of person America’s poster boy really was behind all the image and hype. The impulse to be a snarky asshole just to see how he reacted had died down when he caught the tail end of Rogers’s conversation with General Ross, which intermissioned with the latter stalking off to the bathroom with a scowl ruffling his mustache. 

“Tony Stark,” he said, sticking out his hand. Rogers reached out and shook it.

“Howard’s son,” he said. “You look like him.” 

It was a good thing they were in a bar if Rogers was gonna say shit like that right out of the gate. “You’re much less black-and-white than in your photos,” Tony observed. He turned to the bartender, who had dollar signs in his eyes. Like practically everyone Tony ran into since the first Iron Man presser, the guy obviously knew who he was. “Single-malt Scotch on the rocks.”

“Coming right up, Mr. Stark,” said the bartender, now grinning. 

There was a bit of a pause, and then Rogers coughed and said, “You, uh, live in D.C.?”

“Malibu,” said Tony. Rogers looked blank, and it occurred to Tony that Malibu wouldn’t have been a very happening place in Captain America’s day, at least as far as a guy from New York knew. Weird. “California,” he clarified. “I just flew over.”

Rogers’s eyebrows went up. “So you’re a civilian pilot too?”

“Technically,” said Tony. The bartender was back with the Scotch, which he tried to hand him. Tony shook his head and pointed at the bar. The bartender put it down, and Tony took it. He eyed Rogers over the rim of the glass. “I guess he flew you around a lot.”

“Most of the time he’s—” Rogers stopped, his mouth tightening. “He was back in the lab at SSR headquarters, but yeah. A few missions.” He got a pained look on his face. “Fury gave me a lot of files. I read about what happened to Howard and your mom. I’m sorry.”

Tony drank a very large mouthful of the Scotch. What came out after he swallowed was, “That was nineteen years ago.” 

“Right.” Rogers grimaced and looked down at the drink he was holding. “I don’t know when I’m gonna get used to this. It feels like it was the day before yesterday he was sitting next to me in the strategy room.” 

That set off an entirely unsolicited stab of envy tangled up in old grief. Tony drowned it in the last of the Scotch. He felt bad for the guy, really, but he also wanted to change the subject. He definitely didn’t want to grill Rogers about what his dad had been like in the ‘40s. Not even a little. “Yeah,” he said, “I was held captive by terrorists for three months a couple years ago, and it was hard enough getting back into the world after that. Can’t imagine missing, what, sixty-six years. You should go easy on yourself.”

“I’m not sure I know how to do that,” said Rogers under his breath. 

At that point, General Ross returned from the men’s room. Now that Tony got a better look at him, he was willing to bet he came to this bar already hungover, despite the crisp Army suit. His eyes fell on Tony and narrowed. 

“Mr. Stark,” he said. 

“General,” said Tony. 

“What brings the great Iron Man to D.C.?” Ross glanced from Tony to Rogers and back again. “Planning to make another spectacle at a congressional hearing?”

“Kinda hard to do these days, with you taking up the entire schedule,” said Tony.

Rogers choked on his drink while Ross’s eyes flashed. 

“Don’t pretend you’re here by accident. What exactly does an ex-weapons manufacturer who turned his back on his country have to discuss with one of our greatest war heroes?”

Rogers’s mouth twisted. He clearly didn’t like that label. Tony could have pointed out that switching from carelessly feeding weapons into a jingoistic approach to foreign policy to advocating for accountability and funding all kinds of causes that helped improve the lives and opportunities of Americans was hardly “turning his back” on his country. He also could have mentioned the Distinguished Service Medal the Army had given him after everything that had gone down at the Expo. But why go on the defensive when he could make this douchebag’s blood pressure rise instead? 

“Oh, I’m sorry, did I interrupt you in the process of renewing his captain’s commission and getting him his G.I. Bill benefits?” he said. “It looked like you were just trying to booze him up so he’d help you with your PR problems. My mistake.” He glanced at Rogers, whose expression indicated that he’d already come to a similar conclusion about why Ross had brought him here. “Of course, the general already told you all about how two subjects of his botched taxpayer-funded supersoldier project smashed up half of Harlem last month, didn’t he?”

“I’m sure he was getting to it,” said Rogers, leveling a cold stare at Ross. 

Ross glared for a few seconds, evidently struggling to keep his temper under control. He wasn’t making a lot of headway there. His fists were clenched and his lip was curled. “Howard must be rolling in his grave after what you’ve done to his legacy,” he said finally. 

Lines like that generally worked better when they came from actual old friends of Tony’s dad’s who said them while using a paralyzing device on him. From someone like Ross, they were just funny. “I guess that’s going around,” said Tony. “Your daughter seems real proud of you lately. Loved her op-ed in the Times.”

Ross lunged, and for a split-second, Tony thought he was about to be strangled by a three-star general in a crowded pub, but before he could reach him, Rogers was off his stool and had Ross face-down against the bar with his right arm twisted up painfully against his back. Patrons and staff in the vicinity, a little slow to react, started yelling and scrambling to get farther away, and Ross shouted insults that got lost in the din. 

“Sir, you need to back down right now,” said Rogers. 

“Get the hell off me!”

Rogers let up the pressure on Ross’s arm, and the general righted himself immediately, his face a deep purplish-red. Pointing at Tony, he barked at the bartender, “Get this piece of shit out of my sight!”

“Ooh awkward,” said Tony. “I probably should’ve mentioned that I bought this building ten minutes ago.”

Ross looked like he might actually have a stroke, but instead he turned and stormed across the stunned, silent bar, threw the door open, and disappeared outside. 

“Let’s get a round for everyone on me,” said Tony. There were a few whoops, the bartender nodded and called over his colleagues, and the bar quickly returned to its previous noise levels. 

Rogers looked at Tony. “You always this good at making friends?” 

“Compared to being struck by lightning and turned into a squirrel, I’d call this a pretty good day.”

Rogers frowned. “Turned...into a squirrel?”

“I got better. Anyway, you never answered my question.”

“Which one?” 

“Has Fury told you about the Avengers Initiative yet?”

Rogers settled back onto his stool. “Guess he hasn’t gotten around to it. He mostly filled me in on the end of the war and how SHIELD got started.”

“Makes sense. Too much for one day?”

“Pretty sure I passed that point in the first five minutes. What’s one more thing?”

“Okay. Fury has a harebrained plan to get a bunch of people together with unique skills and abilities as a defense against threats a SHIELD or military taskforce wouldn’t be a match for.”

“What kind of threats? People like Red Skull?”

“I don’t know what he had in mind when he first came to me, but there could be something about an intergalactic warlord or two,” said Tony blithely. Rogers’s eyes went wide. “The whole team’s getting together for the first time tomorrow, if you want to come. A couple guys from another planet and one from Ross’s questionable military research project are gonna be there. Should be fun.” 

“Another planet.” Rogers obviously regretted not waiting to learn about this.

“Yeah,” said Tony. “Big universe out there, apparently. Lightning, squirrel—that was them.” He decided it might freak Rogers out a little too much if he said any more about that (particularly the part where said aliens already knew he was out of the ice and had asked Tony to make contact with him). “They’re cool. You’ll like ‘em.”

X

Thor couldn’t be more excited about the trip to Earth. At last, he would see his mortal shield-sister and brothers all together in one place again, along with his actual brother. It was an occasion that ought to be marked with days of feasting and celebration. 

Beside him, Loki and Banner spent much of the journey from Gladsheim to Himinbjorg discussing the latter’s research with Jane and Erik, but Banner spoke less and less the nearer they drew to their destination. At first, Thor thought it was simply because he wasn’t accustomed to riding a horse, but his gentle mount wasn’t giving him any trouble as she trotted alongside Gladr and Lettfeti. Something else, then.

“Are you well, Banner?” said Thor. “Not anxious about traveling by Bifrost again, I hope?”

“No.” He shot a rueful glance at Loki. “Do I have a reason to be?” 

“I haven’t the slightest idea what you mean,” said Loki. 

Banner grimaced and Thor grinned briefly. “Then is it Earth? All will be well. We have our plan. It’s a good one, and we’ll be among friends.”

“Potential friends,” Loki corrected pointedly, as though Thor needed another reminder that he alone carried all the history of the Avengers and would have to take care not to overwhelm the others before they had the chance to build ties to each other. He was determined not to let that spoil his good mood, not when those were so hard to hold onto these days.

“I know that rationally,” said Banner, “but it’s not easy to shake off the mindset of the last five years of being on the run and a danger to everyone around me.”

“Perhaps your mind would be easier if you’d accepted a few of those offers to spar,” said Thor. Talk had spread quickly after the manner of Banner’s arrival on Asgard (Volstagg and Fandral’s doing, no doubt), and Thor had gotten several requests from eager guards and Einherjar since then to persuade Banner to let them try a few bouts against him. 

“Not everyone finds battle as relaxing as you, Brother,” said Loki. He turned to Banner. “Though he may have a point. Your green beast has only come out in times of great distress thus far, has he not? A chance for some harmless fun could do him good.”

“Assuming harmless fun is something he’s capable of,” said Banner, his doubt evident. Thor thought back to the Hulk’s lighthearted interactions with Brunnhilde on Sakaar and wondered how he could bring something like that about again when they returned. 

They reached the end of the Rainbow Bridge and dismounted. Banner caught his boot in the stirrup and nearly fell on his face, but the mare stepped helpfully to the side to steady him. He gave her an appreciative pat. 

Heimdall stood at his post inside the great sphere, and he inclined his head to them in welcome. 

“How fared Stark with the request I made of him?” said Loki.

“He has succeeded,” said Heimdall. 

“Are they ready for us?” said Thor.

“The son of Coul awaits you at the Bifrost site.”

“Excellent,” said Thor. Heimdall turned Hofund in its plinth and the machinery ground into action. They walked forward into the roaring colors.

One heady rush across the stars later, their feet met Earth’s soil. Agent Coulson stood a little way off, and he drew closer as the Bifrost’s energy faded. “Welcome back,” he said. It was difficult to discern his line of sight behind the sunglasses he wore, but his head turned in Banner’s direction. “Dr. Banner.”

“Uh, hello.”

“I’m Agent Coulson of SHIELD. There are a few things we need to brief you about.” His head tilted down slightly. “I didn’t bring any spare Earth clothing with me, but we can get you some at the Triskelion if you don’t want to draw a lot of attention.”

“That won’t be necessary,” said Loki. He waved a hand. In a flash of seidr, the special tunic and breeches crafted for Banner on Asgard vanished under an illusion of Earth clothing, which consisted of a purple shirt with buttons and a pair of brown trousers. Loki’s surcoat and Thor’s light armor were also obscured by illusions. Loki appeared to be wearing a dark green suit, and when Thor looked down, he saw a casual shirt, jacket, and jeans. Mjolnir appeared as an innocuous umbrella. The sight had him grinning again. He hadn’t told Loki about that.

The corner of Coulson’s mouth twitched up. “It’s good to have you guys back,” he said.

“It’s good to be back!” said Thor. “There’s something we need before we meet with the others, though. I’m not sure how difficult it may be to obtain.” He’d given the matter a lot of thought. Fighting alongside one another was the best way to forge strong bonds of friendship, but failing that, there was something he believed had a good chance of it. 

“What kind of thing are we talking about here?” said Coulson. “I’ll do what I can as attaché, but I don’t have unlimited resources to work with.”

“Have you a way to contact Stark?”

Chapter Text

Stark was very confused by Thor’s request (and that it was Thor who spoke when he was expecting to hear the voice of Coulson from this particular phone), but still intrigued enough to grant it. Within moments, he was able to give Thor an address, which Thor passed along to Coulson when he returned his phone.

“You want me to take you there now?” said Coulson.

“If you would. I want to be sure everything is in order. Would you also ask Barton and Romanoff to meet us there as soon as they are able? And Banner, if you’ve finished your business with him.”

X

Loki watched Thor move restlessly around the private room they had been shown into at their destination, pacing and repeatedly adjusting chairs encircling the round table (which, like most things on Midgard, seemed to be made of very flimsy materials). A young maiden poked her head into the room every other minute to ask if they needed anything, to which Thor kept replying in the negative as he continued to fuss. Loki had no idea what benefit his brother hoped to gain by staging this first meeting in such a place, but their location while they awaited the arrival of the soon-to-be-Avengers was not what interested him most. “You haven’t told me anything of the final member of this band of yours. Rogers, I think you called him.”

“Captain Steven Rogers, yes. He was a great and celebrated warrior of his people in the last Midgardian war we took note of on Asgard.”

Loki frowned. “But that was decades ago. Surely too many for him to be a warrior still, if he is truly a mortal.”

“He is certainly more than an ordinary mortal,” Thor agreed, “but the reason he remains a young man is that he has spent these decades frozen in ice not so far from the early battlefields of the Aesir-Jotnar war.” His expression grew a little somber. “In that time, much has changed about this realm, at least from a mortal perspective.”

Loki’s frown deepened. This Rogers was rather like Brunnhilde, then. Returned to a world that still admired him, but which was not as he remembered it. Perhaps Loki ought to have tried a little harder to persuade her to be here for this meeting. 

“He has strength and wisdom and a valiant heart,” Thor went on. Then, with a brief, furtive glance at the door, he switched to the nameless tongue. “He has already been fighting against the foe we will tell the others of today.”

“The Hydra within SHIELD?” Loki asked, following suit. A soft noise drew his gaze to a corner of the room, but nothing was there. Perhaps it had merely been a groan from the poorly constructed walls.

“Yes,” said Thor. 

Loki looked back at him. “And you are certain it is sensible to deviate from the way you fought this organization before?”

“I think there is more sense in making good use of the time we have than trying to retrace our steps when the terrain is changing under our feet, and it will give the Avengers something to unite against. I only hope it will be enough, in the absence of an invasion.”

“An invasion you have already thwarted by removing the Tesseract to Asgard?” 

“And by not smashing the Bifrost and keeping you free from Thanos’s clutches.”

“Me?” said Loki sharply. “What do you mean?”

Thor’s expression clouded. “It’s not important,” he said, looking away.

“Not important?” said Loki. “How can you say that after I’ve already had one narrow escape in this timeline, let alone the fact that you watched Thanos kill me in the other?”

“It’s not important because it won’t happen again,” Thor growled. 

“Why not?” said Loki, getting to his feet. “Because you will it so? How am I to know to avoid a danger if you won’t tell me of it? Was it mere chance that Ebony Maw learned of me so quickly on Sakaar, or will Thanos be sending more minions after me? Ought I to be constantly on the alert?” 

Thor closed his eyes. Loki glared at him, waiting. After a long moment, Thor finally spoke, seemingly dredging the words up from some deep, painful well inside him. “When you fell from the shattered Bifrost, you landed in his territory. Or at least he found you soon after. I couldn’t guess what black magic he used to keep you hidden from Heimdall and Hlidskjalf and even Mother’s scrying for a full year. Most of us gave up hope that you had survived somehow, but never Mother.” Thor paused and forced his hands open from the fists they had become. “I don’t know what the Titan did to you, but the son of his old enemy with knowledge of the secret paths of Yggdrasil must have been a prize indeed to him. The next time I saw you, you were not yourself.” He met Loki’s eyes. “You had come to Earth to make way for the Chitauri invasion.”

Loki’s legs folded beneath him and his seat made a creaking sound of protest when he landed back on it. And here he’d thought it couldn’t get worse than attempted suicide, nearly dying on the battlefield, and then being helpless to prevent his own murder, all in less than a decade. He laughed. He couldn’t help it, even though he felt ill. 

Thor gave him an upset, quizzical look. “This is funny to you?”

“Why wouldn’t it be? Even Hela refused Thanos, and invading Midgard? It seems I do take after Laufey.” And to think that he’d half-wanted Odin to banish him just for bringing three Jotnar into the Vault.

“That’s not true!” said Thor. “Thanos had the Mind Stone and other terrible servants besides Maw and Cull. They got hold of you when you were already full of despair and convinced that your place on Asgard and in our family was false. You know what Maw was capable of alone, and he only had you for two days. How much worse must that have been?”

Loki swallowed. His flesh crawled at the reminder of Maw’s needles piercing it. He would rather not contemplate what it would be like to have that treatment multiplied across a year, even without adding in the other factors. He looked at his brother and was suddenly on the verge of laughter again, though for quite a different reason this time. “You’ve put all this effort into seeing me become not just an ally but a friend to these mortals even though I could have been their enemy?”

The heavy aura of gloom vanished from around Thor in an instant and he smiled in a way that made him look like a young boy. “Yes, and it has worked, has it not?”

Loki wasn’t certain he would yet classify them as friends. (With the possible exception of Stark, if the man did not come to regret the challenge he’d laid out the previous day.) He supposed he liked them all well enough that he could not say he would be sorry to count them his friends one day. “Working, perhaps,” he conceded. “Oaf.” 

Thor was getting the ominous look of wanting to come around the table and hug the breath out of him, but luckily Barton, Romanoff, and Banner chose that moment to join them. Thor greeted them with his usual exuberance, but Loki was distracted by another faint sound from that corner. 

“The building’s secure,” said Barton. “Stark and Rogers should be here any minute.”

X

“Taste of Lebanon?” said Steve, climbing out of Stark’s bizarre future car, feeling bemused. He was vaguely aware that Lebanon had gained independence from France in ‘43 (Dernier had had some opinions about that), but didn’t know much else about it. He wouldn’t have expected to see a restaurant like this in the capital. 

“Thor said it had to be here,” said Stark, shutting the driver’s side door behind him. “No idea why. I mean, ‘Taste of Norway’ isn’t really a thing, but I thought maybe a Medieval Times...” 

Right, Thor. Steve was apparently about to meet a couple of space princes who’d been around long enough to inspire an entire ancient culture’s mythology. Fury had given him more files after he returned to the Triskelion. Instead of yet more information on everything he’d missed, these were dossiers on the people Fury was angling to have on his Avengers team, Thor and his brother Loki included. Fury hadn’t been too happy to learn that Stark had already filled Steve in on that, but he’d approved this meeting, so it couldn’t have put too big of a dent in his plans.

They went inside and were hit by a strong, warm aroma of cooked meats and exotic spices. The mystery of how a Lebanese restaurant had ended up in Washington D.C. was already solved, as far as Steve was concerned. It wasn’t like anything he had ever smelled before, but he would gladly try it. 

A waitress scurried over to them, clutching a pile of menus tight to her chest, her round eyes on Stark. “Right this way, M-Mr. Stark,” she stammered. “The rest of your party is waiting for you in the private room. What drinks can we bring you while you look at the menu? We have fountain drinks, Turkish coffee, Ayran, mango and guava juice...”

“That last one sounds good,” said Stark, who was obviously used to being treated with ridiculous deference wherever he went, like Howard had been around civilians. Except that unlike Howard, his son didn’t seem to revel in it. “Rogers?”

“Coffee, please, ma’am,” said Steve. 

She dashed off into the kitchen, then reappeared with flaming red cheeks a few seconds later. “Sorry,” she told their shoes. “I should probably take you all the way to the room and give you the menus before I get those.”

“Good plan,” said Stark, not unkindly. She showed them to a room at the back of the dining floor, where five of the seven seats around the circular table were already occupied. Steve quickly looked at each of the people in the room and reminded himself of their names from the dossiers. He might be playing catch-up about most things, but he wasn’t going to add to that pile if he didn’t have to. Clint Barton, Natasha Romanoff, Bruce Banner, and Thor and Loki Odinson. He expected to find the last two in their space royalty armor like in their photographs, but if he hadn’t already been briefed on them, he would’ve thought they were just a couple more maybe-not-quite-average joes from 2011. 

The first one to react to their arrival was Thor, whose face lit up as he jumped to his feet. “Stark, Rogers! At last, there you are!” And then Steve was getting hugged with so much force that it made him nostalgic for asthma. It sure felt like Thor was wearing space royalty armor. 

“Missed you too, Thunderstruck,” Stark gasped. 

By the time Thor let them go and stepped back, the waitress had laid out the menus in front of all their seats and retreated to the doorway. “Come, sit!” said Thor. “We have been assured it will take but moments for them to prepare our feast once we have made our selections.”

“Yeah, that’s how restaurants work,” said Stark. “Do you have those on Asgard?”

“Of course!” said Thor. “But things are often done strangely here; I can never be sure. Rogers, allow me to introduce my brother Loki.”

Steve didn’t know why one guy he’d never met was in a position to introduce another guy he’d never met, but his plan for now was to just roll with everything and endeavor not to look too confused, so he stuck out a hand to Loki and tried not to make a weird face when Loki grabbed his forearm instead of his palm.

“Well met, Captain Rogers,” said Loki. 

“Thanks,” said Steve. “You too.”

Steve took one of the available seats, which put him between Thor and Romanoff. Stark’s put him between Loki and Dr. Banner. The waitress wrote down everyone else’s drink orders and left the room.

“Why do you sound like you’re from England?” said Steve. 

“Allspeak,” said Loki. “In addition to sounding like your language to you, it tends to apply certain connotations to the particular way it sounds.”

“Like imperialism,” said Dr. Banner, who hastily coughed when several pairs of eyes turned his way. Stark gave Loki’s shoulder a sardonic pat. Steve thought he saw something hidden in his hand when he did it, but chose not to point it out.

The waitress returned with the drinks after about thirty more seconds, and they all told her their orders. Steve didn’t recognize the names of any of the items on the menu, but Thor kept giving everyone pointed looks and touting the merits of the shawarma entree. Steve decided to take his word for it.

Once the waitress left again with all the menus, Stark turned to Thor. “So, this place was your idea? Kinda random.”

“Certainly not!” said Thor, frowning. “It would be better if we could eat it after fighting a battle together, but shawarma is quite delicious on its own.”

Loki rolled his eyes. 

“Is the food the only reason we’re not doing this in a SHIELD briefing room?” said Stark. “‘Cause if so, I gotta say, kinda underwhelmed.” There was a pause in which Barton, Romanoff, and Thor all exchanged glances (while Loki for some reason was squinting at the corner). The three of them seemed to come to a silent agreement, and then they looked at Steve and Stark.

“SHIELD is compromised,” said Romanoff.

“What?” said Steve, all his attention now focused on her. “Compromised how?”

“Hydra,” said Barton. “We thought they were gone after you finished off Johann Schmidt. Instead they got subtle, rebuilt inside SHIELD. We don’t know exactly how powerful they are, but there’s a lot of them and it goes all the way up to Secretary Pierce.”

“So this has been going on for decades and you guys didn’t notice?” said Stark.

“Isn’t SHIELD supposed to be an intelligence agency?” said Banner.

Steve was struck with the vivid recollection of his first encounter with a Hydra operative. “Cut off one head, two more shall take its place.” It shouldn’t come as a surprise, really. After all, he’d been fighting Hydra until a few days ago; now he could just pick up where he left off. Anger boiled up in him at the thought that Peggy and Howard’s life’s work had been tainted before he got the chance to do something about it...but maybe he wouldn’t have seen it coming either. 

“Then that’s what we’re here for,” he said. “We’re stopping them.”

“Fury needs time to gather more intel,” said Romanoff, “but that’s the idea.” She looked at Stark. “If you can get in without leaving a trace, we’d be glad to have your help there.”

“Or perhaps we could start right now,” said Loki. And then he simply disappeared in a ripple of greenish-gold light. It seemed the others were already somewhat used to him doing that, because nobody else jumped out of their chairs, and Stark for some reason looked...disappointed? 

The sound of scuffling came from the corner, and then Loki reappeared, accompanied by a blare of loud and very bizarre music. 

“Uh oh, it’s magic!”

Loki actually was in his weird armor now, and appeared to be wrestling with thin air. At this point, everyone else leapt up too. 

“Just a little magic.”

There was a huge grin on Stark’s face now, and he said something like “Ha! I knew it!” but he seemed to be the only one not taking this seriously. Thor was standing close to Dr. Banner with his hands out in a soothing sort of gesture, and Barton and Romanoff were both poised in fighting stances. 

“You know it's true.”

Steve thought he saw a flash of something thrashing in Loki’s grip, but it hurt to look at it. With a snarl, Loki spun towards the table, bringing his arms down in an arc like he was throwing someone.

“I got a hold on you.”

 Something solid but invisible collided with the surface, sending all the drinks crashing to the floor, and then a slender form in a very odd hooded gray tactical suit flickered into view.

Chapter Text

The second time Loki heard a noise coming from that corner, he began to doubt that shoddy mortal building materials were to blame. The third time, he was certain. It wasn’t the sound of creaking wood and plaster, it was the slightest creak of boots against flooring and a gasp that hadn’t been fully stifled. It was a good thing Thor had developed enough prudence to use the nameless tongue when discussing sensitive matters. A pity his human friends couldn’t do the same. They were being watched by an unseen observer.

Well, two could play at that game. 

Loki cloaked himself and left a projection in his seat. Immediately, a strange, synthetic sort of noise blared from right behind him, and he nearly spoiled his ruse by knocking his chair over on the way out of it. “What the Hel?” 

A cloaking spell, done properly, did more than hide the subject from sight; it also prevented them from making any sound that could give them away. It did not, however, silence those sounds entirely; the cloaked individual could still hear themselves perfectly well. Loki didn’t particularly need help keeping his steps silent, but he enjoyed having the freedom to make unheard commentary about what he observed when he felt like it. 

He had never heard the sounds now emitting from him, let alone made them himself. Being invisible even to his own eyes, however, his ability to investigate the source was limited. He felt around as far as he could reach on the back of his shoulder, and his fingers found a small object that certainly wasn’t part of his armor. It was made of metal and vibrated slightly in time to the sound coming from it. Irritation turned to amusement as he realized what had happened. “Well done, Stark,” he muttered. The man must’ve stuck the thing to his clothing when he patted his shoulder. Had the device automatically activated because Loki had cast a spell? Had Stark managed to develop a method of detecting Loki’s seidr using mortal technology, and in so short a time? He had clearly underestimated him.

By the time Loki came up with this hypothesis, the initial strange sounds had become a distinctive beat played on instruments he couldn’t identify, and then a male voice began singing. 

“Summer, it turns me upside down
Summer, summer, summer
It's like a merry-go-round.”

Loki did his best to ignore the song and do what he had actually set out to do by casting the cloaking spell. He could have simply banished the musical device into his dimensional pocket, but it was a worthy prank (considering it had been done by a mortal), and it deserved Loki’s respect. 

The projection remained at the table to participate in the conversation, which had turned towards the matter of Hydra, while Loki himself crept closer to the corner whence came the suspicious noises. Whoever was lurking there was completely invisible. Loki wondered how such a thing could be accomplished without seidr, but that mystery could wait.

“I see you under the midnight
All shackles and bows
The high shoes with the cleats a-clickin'
A temperamental glow.
How could you let me go?”

Loki couldn’t make any sense of the words in this song. Had Stark chosen it for a reason? If so, it was not yet apparent. He shook himself. He had a job to do. He moved closer to the corner, eyes narrowed. For the briefest moment, he saw a flicker—the merest outline of a person, barely visible and with the colors stretched as though seen through a prism. 

He reached for where he’d seen an arm. There was definitely something there, but instead of touching a solid surface, it was like he’d tried to grab a fistful of sand. After a brief moment of resistance, his fingers passed through. Unfortunately, the attempt hadn’t gone unnoticed by the phantom eavesdropper. A much more solid force struck his chest, followed by a faint, feminine grunt of surprise (or perhaps pain). His opponent wasn’t entirely unprepared for an invisible attacker, then. Just unprepared for one made of sterner stuff than mortal bodies. 

He tried to grab her again, only for his fingers to pass through her arm a second time. Perhaps if he could grab just when she was trying to strike him, he’d be able to gain purchase.

“Oh, I got a hold on you
Got a hold on you
I've got a hold on you tonight”

Well that was just ridiculous. Whatever had made Stark choose this song, it was perhaps more fitting than he had imagined. Not only was she invisible and partially incorporeal, she was also quite skilled in combat, and proving exceedingly hard to pin down. 

“Oh, I got a hold on you
I got a hold on you
(Got a hold on you)
That's right”

The music was mocking him. No matter what he tried, he simply couldn’t get a proper grip on the phantom. After yet another failed attempt, he felt a hand on his chest. The fingers pushed through, and the sensation was decidedly unpleasant. Loki suspected this was a strategy she was very familiar with. If she could control how solid she was at any given moment, then that would make killing an opponent a simple matter of reaching into their chest cavity and scrambling things about. Had he been a mortal, she might have already succeeded in killing him with this maneuver, but the density of his flesh seemed to be giving her some trouble. 

Still, he wasn’t keen on letting her continue. She was going to regret trying this on a Jotun. He untied the little knot of seidr and let his true form emerge. He didn’t put any extra effort into stealing the heat out of her hand, but he didn’t really need to, given its position. There was a small yelp as she wrenched her fingers free, and her image flickered again. Resuming his Aes form with a satisfied smirk, Loki dropped low and swept a leg across the space where the woman’s feet were. Though she didn’t fall when his leg passed through hers, she did stumble. 

“Uh oh, it’s magic
When I’m with you!”

Ah. That was why he’d chosen this song, then. Delightful. Loki decided it was time to put his entire focus into this struggle. He let his projection reply to what Romanoff said before dispelling it. A moment later, he dropped the cloaking spell too. His brother and the mortals all reacted dramatically, but he couldn’t enjoy that just yet. 

“Uh oh, it’s magic!
Just a little magic
You know it’s true
I got a hold on you”

As Loki had hoped, the phantom took advantage of his new visibility to attempt to strike him again. The instant the blow connected, he caught her by the wrist. This time, his grip held. Not wasting the advantage, he turned and flung her onto the table, where she finally flickered fully into sight, like three images appearing and blurring into one.

“Oh, twisted
Under, sideways, down”

Her appearance was greeted by much startled shouting from the Avengers—all except for Barton, whose eyes were wide. Before the phantom could recover from the stunning effects of colliding with the table, Loki reached for the odd mask and tore it away, unspooling long brown hair and revealing a face not quite as dark as Brunnhilde’s, with striking features and large blue eyes. She gritted her teeth, and her lower half sank through the surface of the table so that she was standing inside it, her guard up, surrounded by the seven of them. 

“I know you're getting twisted
And you can't calm down.”

Loki decided Stark’s prank had run its course and let the device fall into his dimensional pocket, putting an end to the music.

“Agent Starr?” said Barton. “What are you doing here?” 

That brought the others up short. The phantom woman hesitated as well.

“This woman is one of your shield-sisters?” said Thor, lowering his umbrella an inch or so and relaxing his position in front of Banner somewhat. Not a SHIELD agent he was acquainted with, then. Interesting. Just how large was the organization?

“Yeah, she’s with SHIELD,” said Barton. His eyes narrowed. “Unless she’s with Hydra. I’ve worked with her on a couple of missions.”

“I’m not with bloody Hydra,” she snarled. 

“Did Fury send you to report on us?” said Romanoff.

“Fury isn’t the one who sent me,” she said, her eyes on Barton. “Is it true? What you said before. Is Pierce one of them?”

He nodded. “He’s their leader.”

Her eyes flashed. There was a deep pain there, as well as rage and unmistakable betrayal. It was strange to see in so young a face. Before any of them could move or say another word, she vanished from sight again. A second later, the mask Loki had removed disappeared too. 

“How many agents like that does SHIELD have?” said Rogers, while Loki and Romanoff immediately began searching for a trace of her.

“As far as I know, she’s one of a kind,” said Barton. “Some kind of freak accident when she was a kid.”

Neither Loki nor Romanoff found any sign of Agent Starr in the room. 

“Heimdall, can you see where she went?” said Thor, which earned him quizzical looks from Stark and Rogers. After a moment, he glanced at Loki and shook his head.

“Impressive,” said Loki. 

The young maiden who’d brought the drinks now strewn about the floor appeared in the doorway bearing a large platter laden with plates of steaming food and stopped short, mouth falling open.

“Uh, could we get some towels please?” said Banner. “We had a little accident.”

Extremely confused, she quickly set out their plates and then hurried off to get the towels. 

“So...that was weird,” said Stark lightly. “Should we be worried?”

“Leave her to me,” said Barton.

“You’re not leaving, are you?” said Thor. 

“I doubt she’s on her way to warn Pierce that we know about Hydra, but Fury needs to know Pierce is using assets like her to keep tabs on us,” he said. “Nat can take it from here.”

Thor looked rather upset, but didn’t protest as Barton left the room. “He didn’t even get to try the shawarma,” he said sorrowfully. Loki was torn between amusement and pity. Thor had wanted so much more from this meeting than just a few minutes with all of them together. 

“Why was The Cars playing just now?” said Banner. “That wasn’t coming from the restaurant’s speakers.”

Loki popped the device back out of his dimensional pocket and tossed it to Stark. “Your revenge was quite well executed,” he said. 

“Thanks,” said Stark, clearly downplaying how pleased he was. Loki was going to need to come up with something truly special for his next volley in their contest. 

“Is that what music sounds like now?” said Rogers.

“More like a quarter century ago,” said Stark. “Don’t worry; we’ll get you caught up on all the rock and roll you missed.”

X

Ava could scream. Bill had convinced her that SHIELD deserved her trust, that they were the only ones with the resources to help her. And yet all this time, they were under the control of Hydra. Did Bill know? No, she refused to believe that. He was good and kind, and they’d fooled him like they’d fooled her. 

She thought of all the tests they’d done on her as a girl, all the missions they’d sent her out on starting before she was old enough to legally hold a job. She’d tolerated years of assignments on the idea that at least she was serving some noble purpose while she waited for them to keep their promise. But even that wasn’t true. She’d sold her soul for nothing. She’d just been a cog in a corrupt machine that didn’t care if her cells were ripping themselves apart every day as long it didn’t stop her from getting results. 

By flitting from one empty backseat to another across a number of vehicles, she was able to get a lift back to the Triskelion in minutes. Staying fully invisible, she stalked past unwitting agents and staff, through walls and doors, and up many flights of stairs. At the top floor, she went through one final door and stopped. Alexander Pierce was sitting behind his desk, in the middle of a phone call.

“I’m aware of that, Senator,” he said.

Ava focused on being present in the room, grimacing beneath the mask at the sensation. Pierce froze, eyes on her. “Let me call you back,” he said, and set the handset back in its cradle. “Agent Starr. I wasn’t expecting a report from you until tomorrow.”

“I’ve heard all I need to.” She pulled off the mask and dropped it on his desk.

“How concerned do we need to be about Asgard?”

“Loki made me in about five minutes, but that’s not why I’m here.” She watched him closely for his reaction. Whatever lie he came up with, she wanted to see the truth in his eyes. “It’s been a decade, you know. How much longer do I have to wait for SHIELD to fix this?” She raised a hand, the image of which was spread across three positions a few inches apart. They flickered and came back together. What wasn’t visible was the tearing sensation that accompanied the separation and reintegration. 

If she’d blinked, she would have missed the flash of irritation on his face before he hid it with concern. “With Dr. Pym and Dr. Foster both gone from the agency, it’s not so easy, but we’ve made progress.”

“Then why not bring them on? They worked for SHIELD before. You know Bill’s like a father to me. He’d do it in a heartbeat if he had your resources.”

“When he left SHIELD, he made it very clear he wouldn’t be coming back,” said Pierce. 

More like he was too clever not to notice whatever Hydra was up to the longer he stuck around, she thought. “What about the stacks of research and hypotheses on molecular disequilibrium he’s sent over since then? Has anyone looked at those?”

The veneer over Pierce’s frustration was growing thinner. “What happened to you and your parents in Argentina was a tragedy, Agent Starr,” he said, getting to his feet and starting to walk around the desk. “It’s a miracle you survived, and you’ve been able to do so much good since then. We recognize that, and we’re using every resource we have to ensure that you can live a normal, healthy life.” He laid a hand on her shoulder, slowly and carefully so that he’d be able to make contact. Ava had never hated anyone more. “But this is a one-of-a-kind condition, and curing it is a steep, uphill battle.”

She had heard versions of that speech several times over the last few years. She wasn’t going to smile and nod and run along on her next mission this time. “Maybe it is,” she said. “Or maybe you’re just stalling because you don’t want to cure your only subject before you can safely bottle up what I can do for your Hydra agents.”

Pierce’s eyes went very round. He dove a hand inside his waistcoat pocket, but Ava dove one of hers straight through his chest before he could retrieve whatever he was after. He froze, his whole body tensing up. She found his heart and let her fingers loosely brush it. It was beating incredibly fast.

“I want to see both of your hands,” she said through her teeth. “Slowly.”

“Agent Starr,” he said as he raised them. “Think very carefully about what you want to do here.”

“I’ve already done that, sir,” she said. 

“Hydra can offer you so much more than SHIELD has,” he said. 

“Oh really? Can it make up for ten years?” She dove her left hand through his shoulder and dragged her fingers down through the sinew and bone of his arm. It didn’t feel remotely good for her (though much better than when she’d tried it on Loki), but Pierce cried out in pain and tried to back away. She stayed on him all the way to the wall of windows. “That’s what it’s been like. Every day.” She swiped down his side, and he screamed, barely staying on his feet. “Every hour.” 

The third swipe was to his stomach, at which he crumpled to the floor, gasping for breath, staring up at her in horror. “You missed your chance to make me an offer a long time ago. I hope Tony Stark and Captain America and the bloody Asgardians send all of Hydra to hell. SHIELD can go with it for all I care. But you’ll already be there.” With a yell of rage, she forced her right hand to nearly full solidity and ripped it back out of his chest.

Chapter Text

Clint returned to the Triskelion as quickly as he could in D.C. traffic. Fury needed to know that Pierce was trying to keep his own tabs on the Avengers, and that Agent Starr now knew about Hydra. 

After Clint and Nat’s full debrief with Fury (which had been far more comprehensive than the report they crafted for Pierce), the Director had given them the go-ahead to inform the Avengers of the Hydra problem. He hadn’t been thrilled about it, but they all agreed that it would be better for Stark, Rogers, and Banner to hear it from two SHIELD agents in an official capacity before Thor could get the chance to fumble his timelines and let something slip. 

Fury wasn’t going to be happy to hear that the meeting he’d signed off on might’ve just created bigger problems for them. Agent Starr had looked furious enough to do anything. The only comfort Clint could find in it was that her anger seemed firmly directed towards Hydra, so it was unlikely that she’d be taking what she’d learned back to Pierce.

When he reached the Triskelion, Koenig intercepted him in the lobby and informed him that the building had just gone on lockdown. No one was allowed to leave. 

“That include me now?” Clint asked. It wasn’t hard to play it cool, but this was bad. Was this because of Agent Starr? What could she have done?

“Nope. Post-lockdown arrivals get one of these.” Koenig handed Clint a lanyard that read: 

Agent Barton
Clearance Level: 7
Movement Restrictions: None

Clint put the lanyard around his neck, resisting the urge to ask how Koenig could possibly already have that on hand. Koenig had always had the right lanyards on hand as long as Clint had known him, and it had never been clear where or how he got them.

“What triggered lockdown protocol?”

“All I know is it’s not any kind of health hazard, and no one’s allowed to move between floors. Details are restricted to clearance level eight right now, but the implication was that it’ll move to level seven soon.”

“Level eight?” said Clint. “Shit.” His mind raced. He’d been through a couple of contamination lockdowns before Fitzsimmons had taken over the lab (veteran agents had bets going on how long it would take until they set one off), but the only information restricted in those cases had been scientific mumbo-jumbo about the chemicals involved. If the restrictions were this tight to begin with and it had nothing to do with an experiment gone wrong or a containment problem, the only possibility that seemed to fit was infiltration. Either information had been stolen or there had been a hit inside the building, and they were trying to catch the culprit before they could get away.

No way this was a coincidence. “Where’s the Director?”

X

“So SHIELD HQ just went on lockdown,” said Stark nonchalantly before taking a bite of his food.

Natasha wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of being impressed that he’d already started accessing information from SHIELD. She’d been the one to suggest it, after all. 

“How do you know that?” said Rogers, frowning.

Stark waved the fancy phone he’d probably designed himself. “I’ve got JARVIS poking around the network. Hasn’t gotten in yet, but that protocol came through loud and clear.”

From Rogers’s expression, this explanation raised more questions than it answered. He didn’t ask them. Poor guy. 

“If SHIELD is on lockdown, does that mean Barton didn’t make it in time?” said Banner. “To stop that agent from doing...whatever she had in mind?”

“Maybe,” said Natasha. “But Clint’s worked with her, and if he believes she isn’t Hydra, then I trust his judgment.”

“If Hydra’s flown under the radar for sixty-six years, then how can anyone be sure?” said Rogers. “How did you even find out about them, and why only now?”

“They have us to thank for that,” said Loki. Natasha caught him shooting a sharp glance at Thor, who took a moody bite of shawarma and said nothing. She didn’t think anyone else had seen it. She, Clint, and the Odinsons had discussed how they would handle these kinds of questions. Thor had been a bit unhappy with the idea that they should avoid bringing his status as a time traveler into it if at all possible, but he had agreed. It looked like Loki was going to hold him to that. “We came to Earth weeks ago hoping to establish an alliance between our worlds. We never go into such things blind. Our Gatekeeper observed SHIELD to ensure they were trustworthy, and he saw signs of a conspiracy at work that could become a danger to all the free peoples of this realm. We sought to build good faith by bringing this information to Director Fury.”

“And we will build it further by lending our weapons to the fight against Hydra,” said Thor. 

“How does someone from a different planet decide who the good guys are in an organization of human spies?” said Rogers. Natasha had only been in the man’s company for the duration of this meeting, but he had already impressed her multiple times with his sharp observations. Clearly he hadn’t been picked as the guinea pig for Project Rebirth for his pretty face. 

“It wasn’t a difficult decision to make,” said Loki.

“Even though this puts you on the side that opposes the guys who named their most advanced bomber The Valkyrie and called their radar system FREYA?” said Rogers, a hint of challenge in his expression. 

Loki exchanged a dark look with his brother.

“I would have liked nothing better than to do battle with every last one of them who invoked names from our family and history,” Thor growled. “Odin forbade it, even when they slaughtered and subjugated the descendants of his own mortal allies and took the treasure he had entrusted to them to use for evil purposes. He would not involve Asgard in a human war while other humans still stood to win it.”

“But you’re involved now,” said Rogers. He looked like he couldn’t decide whether to be angry or reassured by this information. Natasha understood. Asgard could’ve ended World War II within hours, but at what cost?

“Like I said,” said Stark over the rim of the new glass the waitress had brought, “intergalactic warlords on the horizon.”

Thor looked very solemnly at Rogers. “Yes. This is why we need to work together, but do not take us for allies of necessity only. I hope we will never again require such dire threats before our realms can come together in friendship.”

Natasha still had to marvel at how sincerely Thor wanted this. It was difficult to imagine this group of people working together as a cohesive unit. In her experience, that was the kind of thing that took serious training, yet they must have been able to pull it off if he missed it this badly. As prone to skepticism as she was, she had to root for Thor getting his wish. 

“I’m not sure how I’m supposed to contribute to any of this,” said Banner with a nervous laugh. “I mean, maybe the Other Guy would be up for punching some intergalactic warlords, but rooting out Hydra agents? That’s not exactly part of either of my skill sets.”

“It might not just be individual agents,” said Natasha. “At some point, they’re going to realize we know they exist, and the time for subtle tactics will be over.”

“Why not just expose them?” said Stark. Rogers nodded.

“For that, we’d need something to expose,” said Natasha. “If we try to make that play too soon, anyone we don’t have specific evidence against will just fade into the background at SHIELD and it’ll be even harder to find them. They didn’t get this far by being reckless, and we won’t beat them that way either. Our only advantage right now is that they don’t know we’re onto them. We can’t waste that.”

“So between JARVIS and Asgard’s Gatekeeper guy, we should have that nut cracked in no time,” said Stark.

“Heimdall has nine realms to watch over,” said Thor. “He may be able to provide a few names, but he cannot turn his gaze from the borders of Yggdrasil for long. Loki and I are at greater liberty to carry out our duties as we see fit, but even we are unlikely to be able to remain here for longer than days at a time.”

“I hate to ask this,” said Rogers, “but can we afford to prioritize Hydra right now? How far off is that horizon?” An uncomfortable frisson went around the table—at least among the humans. The idea of letting Hydra continue with whatever plans they had was not a pleasant one, and not just because they’d be able to benefit from any PR gains of successfully defeating extraterrestrial threats. But someone had to ask it.

“Thanos will know soon if he does not already that the House of Odin is done letting him slaughter his way through planets unchallenged,” said Thor, “but he is a coward and is unlikely to attack when the odds do not favor him. We may have fewer years than we did before our mission to Sakaar, but whatever we have lost in time, we have gained in our improved position. And we intend to improve it further by seeking more allies and increasing Yggdrasil’s defenses.”

“Meanwhile,” said Loki, “the Dokkalfar cannot make their move before the Convergence, which is another three years off. We nearly have the means of discovering their hiding place, so they may never have the opportunity to attack Earth at all.”

Rogers nodded slowly. “Then we take on Hydra first.”

X

Despite Clint’s lack of movement restrictions, the elevator wouldn’t take him to the top floor. He settled for the next one down, and there he found Coulson and Sitwell standing outside a briefing room like a pair of guards. Sitwell was one of the few Thor had already specifically named as Hydra. If he was a typical example, then Clint understood how they had stayed hidden for so long. Lined up along the wall past the two agents were a couple dozen personnel he mostly only knew by sight. 

Coulson spotted him and frowned. “Already back from your meeting with Thor and Loki?”

“Nat’s still with them, but something came up that the Director needs to hear. It can’t wait. Is he in there?”

“He’s upstairs,” said Sitwell. An agent exited the briefing room and the next in line went inside. “Hill’s inside taking statements from everyone who was working up there.”

“Statements about what?” said Clint. 

“Secretary Pierce was found dead in his office ten minutes ago,” said Sitwell. “Something ripped up his chest cavity. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Clint felt like he’d been punched in the face. He stood there gaping at them for a moment. It had to be Agent Starr. This was insane. They’d only just learned about Hydra, and now its leader was dead before they’d made a single move. 

“Fury’s overseeing the forensics team personally,” said Coulson. “I hope your news is good.”

“Depends on Fury, I guess,” said Clint. 

Coulson rapped the door with his knuckles. Deputy Director Hill emerged a few seconds later. To her inquisitive look, Coulson nodded at Clint. “Barton needs to see the Director.”

“Come with me,” she said, and briskly led the way to the stairwell access at the end of the hall. Clint followed her up to the top floor, where she pressed her thumb to a pad. The lock clicked and the door opened. “Does this have anything to do with Pierce?” she asked. 

He could tell from her tone that Fury had filled her in on the Hydra situation. “Yeah,” he said. “But keep doing what you’re doing.” After a long look, she nodded and headed back down.

Fury stood with his arms folded outside the door to Pierce’s office. He turned to face Clint as he approached. He looked like he’d had a very long day. Clint could understand why. Within days, Pierce had gone from being Fury’s decades-long colleague to the head of a traitorous organization to dead. 

“Director,” said Clint. A widening sliver of the office came into view, and he caught a glimpse of blood-spattered carpet and various forensics guys snapping photos and taking samples.

“Barton,” said Fury, “if you aren’t here to tell me something about aliens or what happened to Pierce, you have five seconds to get off this floor.”

“I’m sorry sir,” said Clint, while tapping two fingers against his leg. Fury’s eye flicked down to them and then snapped back to his face. “Can we talk somewhere secure?”

“This better be good,” Fury grumbled, “or I’m gonna have to rethink Hill’s promotion and your clearance level.”

They walked the short distance up the hall to Fury’s office and went inside. Fury touched a button on his desk, and a low electric hum crackled to life. “The Faraday cage is active. We can talk. So what can you tell me about the sudden demise of Alexander Pierce?” 

“There was an eavesdropper at our meeting,” said Clint. “Ava Starr. Loki caught her a few minutes in, but not before we started talking about Hydra and the man in charge of it. Who happens to be the same man who gave her the assignment.”

Fury whistled. “I guess there’s not much point to this lockdown then. At least she was smart enough to change up the M.O. she’s used in the field.”

“How do we respond to this?” said Clint. “Hydra’s going to be on high alert with Pierce dead. We don’t have anything ready.”

Fury looked thoughtful. “No, we can use this. No regime change is ever perfectly seamless. They’ll be forced to communicate with each other more until Pierce’s successor settles in. We’ll be able to spot them easier.”

“What about Ava?” said Clint.

“Make contact with her if you can,” said Fury. “Tell her to lie low. She’ll have a target on her back if Hydra traces this to her.”

“But won’t the labs show that he was attacked by something that could phase through solid matter?”

“Let me worry about that. There’s no other evidence so far. Pierce was as paranoid about surveillance as I am, so there’s no footage or audio from his office, and she wouldn’t have shown up on any of the other cameras in the building on her way here.”

“You think you can spin this so Hydra suspects an inside job?”

“If we can keep Agent Starr off their radar, what other explanation will they have? Everyone else who knows about them has alibis, so even if they did suspect someone had discovered them, there’s no one obvious to blame.” He fixed Clint with his gaze. “How confident are you that the Avengers will play along?”

“Stark is contrary and unpredictable and Thor is one of the worst liars I’ve ever met, but they’re all against Hydra. I’d give it 92%.”

Chapter Text

The King’s Spear, Asgard

Nearly as often as Sif spent her mornings at the training grounds, she also joined the Warriors Three for breakfast—though in Volstagg’s case, it was the “midmorning meal” as he always broke his fast with his family (not that it made much difference to his appetite). It was as solid a tradition as any they had as companions, and perhaps the most significant that didn’t include the princes, who could not reliably get away from their royal duties that early in the day. Sif and Volstagg occasionally found themselves eating without one or both of the other two, as Hogun was sometimes needed on Vanaheim for months at a stretch and Fandral frequently found it difficult to part company with some maiden or other.

The latter had been absent the day before. When Volstagg had begun chortling about it as he usually did to a flat-faced Hogun, Sif had bluntly set him straight and explained what Fandral had done and what it had nearly come to in the throne room. It had put rather a pall over the rest of the meal.

So when Fandral walked inside The King’s Spear on the day after the princes’ departure for Midgard as Sif, Volstagg, and Hogun were finishing their last bites of food, he was met with three stares of varying degrees of hostility. 

“Bold of you to show your face,” said Sif coldly.

“Or foolish,” said Hogun.

Volstagg frowned, perhaps more upset than angry. As much as he enjoyed a battle, he hated a quarrel and usually refused to participate in them except to encourage civility and understanding on all sides. 

“I will not trouble you overlong,” said Fandral, expression and posture overflowing with the same remorse and misery as he had shown in the palace. “If you want nothing more to do with me, I can hardly object. I have broken my oaths to one we all swore to protect and disgraced myself, and I do not deserve such excellent friends as you. However, if there is anything I can do to regain my honor in your eyes, I will do it in an instant.”

He turned to face Sif. “It was not my intention to allow Loki to believe you responsible. I regret that I did not find him to make my confession before he found you, and I hope your friendship will not suffer needlessly on my account.”

Some of Sif’s anger was squelched beneath renewed hurt over what Loki had assumed about her, which was then complicated by indignation that Fandral thought he was in a position to apologize for what Loki had done, as well as a rash of unhappy thoughts that she might well have deserved Loki’s suspicion for the way she had behaved toward him in recent decades. What a mess this all was. 

Fandral bowed low and withdrew before Sif or the other two could make any reply. Sif was determined not to forgive him—certainly not so easily; she would follow Thor’s lead—but with him so transparent about his desire to make amends, she had to work a bit harder than she liked to remain furious with him.

She caught Brunnhilde watching Fandral’s retreat from the bar with narrowed eyes. She’d been there having a mostly liquid breakfast the previous morning too, and hadn’t interacted with their table beyond a cursory nod of acknowledgement. Now, however, she got to her feet and strode in their direction. Sif wanted to salute or show some other sign of deference to the woman’s rank, but Brunnhilde had been quite firm that she wouldn’t tolerate it, so all she could do was sit ramrod straight on her stool and try not to feel like she was being incredibly disrespectful. 

“Brunnhilde,” she said, her voice as natural as she could make it. She sensed the grin forming on Volstagg’s face and restrained herself from kicking him under the table. 

“You headed to the palace training grounds after this?”

“Er, yes,” said Sif, confused. 

“Want to have a fight?”

Sif’s mouth fell open. It took a second or two for the meaning of the question to sink in, and then it was all she could do not to leap to her feet and throw her arms around the other woman. Every frustrating thought about Fandral and Loki was forgotten. She couldn’t believe this was really happening! A real Valkyrie, battle-proven and all, wanted to test her mettle? She could hear snorting and snickering sounds from Volstagg and even Hogun now, but she could not have cared less. “I would, very much,” she said, unable to stop herself from grinning ear to ear. 

X

The Triskelion, Earth

Thor stood with Loki outside the same briefing room where Coulson had led them to meet Fury, Hill, and Alexander Pierce weeks earlier. The humans had said something about checking the room for bugs. (Loki had frowned at that, and Thor had explained that sometimes when mortals said “bugs,” they meant high-tech listening devices, not insects.) They didn’t want the princes inside while they did this in case their “weird alien energy signatures” threw off the scanning equipment.

“Is this the best way to do this?” said Thor, using the nameless tongue. After that phantom woman had surprised them, he had decided it was probably best to simply always use it on Earth when dealing with anything pertaining to SHIELD. 

“Do what?” said Loki.

“Share all I know of Hydra with them.” said Thor, gesturing towards the room. After the shawarma, Romanoff had told them to get ready for a long discussion about that with Fury, and here they were barely a day later. “Would it not be easier if you showed them my memories instead? Then they wouldn’t have to bother with all those code words she told us about, and they would see the faces of many of the Hydra agents I can’t name.”

“You used to be so dismissive of my spells. I’m starting to miss that.”

Thor frowned at him, and he rolled his eyes. “You really have forgotten everything Mother tried to teach you of seidr, haven’t you?” He mimicked Frigga’s voice and graceful way of carrying herself. “‘A proper sorcerer uses his seidr for matters of necessity, not convenience.’”

“Clearly that obnoxious Earth wizard never got that lesson,” Thor grumbled under his breath.

“What?” said Loki.

Thor didn’t repeat himself, for something else had occurred to him. “Do you mean to say that it was necessary to turn Stark into a flying squirrel?!” 

“Of course!” said Loki. “I couldn’t very well have done that without seidr, could I? Now, I’ll admit that I would be more willing to help you share these memories than I would be with anything pertaining to Jane Foster, but I don’t see the need for it. Or the wisdom.”

That caught Thor’s attention. “What could be unwise about giving them better access to what I know? With Pierce dead, surely they need as much as I can give them, as quickly as possible, to begin forming their plans.”

“These aren’t Aesir warriors, they’re mortal spies. Even if you count a handful of them as friends, it doesn’t change the fact that they failed to notice the parasite growing in their midst for an entire lifetime of their kind. You don’t know how much that may have influenced them, whether they meant it to or not.”

“I don’t know that we can hold that against them,” said Thor. He certainly couldn’t, considering his own history. “I wouldn’t want to give them a reason to withdraw any of the trust and goodwill we’ve earned with them. Not when they’ve just learned of so much treachery in the organization they’ve dedicated their lives to.”

“At a certain point, openness begins to have diminishing returns,” Loki countered. “Better to show a little circumspection. Information is currency to these people, and your memories, O Crown Prince of Asgard, contain far more information than what pertains to Hydra. Already they seek to control what you will tell them before they have even asked you their questions, which is why they haven’t invited Stark, Banner, or Rogers to this meeting.”

Thor had noticed that none of them were present, and it bothered him that half of the Avengers would be at a disadvantage when it came to knowledge, but was the solution to start withholding even more of that knowledge himself? 

“Come, Thor,” said Loki, nudging him out of his brooding contemplation with an elbow. “You’ve come this far in less than a month, with very little planning. Don’t start overthinking it now. If it really matters that they be able to match all those faces you saw to names, let them present a solution to the problem before volunteering to use memory magic.”

That, Thor felt he could agree to. He just wished that helping rid Earth of Hydra could be as simple as protecting a Vanir village from bloodthirsty trolls. 

“And,” said Loki, now in a tone of grudging concession, “if you still don’t want them to have to go to the trouble of using codewords, I could offer to cast an illusion to take care of their end of the conversation. Any eavesdroppers they failed to discover will hear nothing but a very dull discussion of Dark Elf battle tactics.”

Thor smiled. “Thank you.”

X

“Alright,” said Fury, hands splayed out atop the glass table. Romanoff and Maria Hill flanked him on either side, facing Thor and Loki, who had taken seats at the opposite end. He glanced at Loki. “That hocus pocus of yours up and running?” 

Romanoff rolled her head around and gave him a look. “Don’t give me that, Natasha. I’ll be as skeptical as I want about using an anti-eavesdropping spell to avoid blowing the only head-start we have on these assholes.” 

“If Loki says they won’t hear anything worth hearing, they won’t,” said Romanoff.

Beside him, Loki wasn’t entirely successful in concealing the pride her words evoked. Thor wanted very much to hug her for that. Perhaps there would be an opportunity later.

Fury shook his head like he thought they were all hopeless, then fixed his eye on Thor. “I’m sure Barton and Romanoff already told you that they briefed me on everything they learned on Sakaar and Asgard.”

Thor nodded. 

“Good. I hope you don’t have any objections about filling in the details for me. I don’t see why you would, considering this problem doesn’t have any impact on your planet but could be incredibly dangerous for mine.”

“On the contrary,” said Loki, possibly jumping in before Thor could have second thoughts about what they had discussed in the corridor. “One might consider it Asgard’s duty to assist in eliminating Hydra. We had ample cause to intervene when Schmidt took the Tesseract from Father’s place of safekeeping, yet we did not. Had we acted then, there would not have been enough of Hydra left to worm its way inside SHIELD in the first place.”

“Yes,” said Thor. “This is partly why I felt honor-bound to help against Hydra when Rogers requested it of me in the original timeline.” He had been determined not to allow Loki’s scepter to be used by the successors of the very same mortal villains who took the Tesseract. “But where is Barton? Should he not be here for this as well?” Surely there was no need to exclude him; unlike Stark, Banner, and Rogers, Barton already knew that Thor was from the future.

“He’s busy chasing a ghost,” said Romanoff with a meaningful quirk of one eyebrow.

“Ah,” said Loki. “She won’t be a liability then?”

“That doesn’t appear to be her intent,” said Hill. “We just need to be sure.”

“Back to the matter at hand,” said Fury. “What can you tell us? Names, resources, hideouts, drop points, tactical maneuvers. I want everything you’ve got.”

“For the most part, I merely followed Rogers’s command,” said Thor. “Once he had us all together, he explained some of what happened when he and Romanoff first discovered them. Something about a computer brain in a military bunker?” They all gave him nonplussed looks. He waved his hand and laughed awkwardly. “I didn’t really understand it. But Hydra does not have the scepter containing the Mind Stone. That will save us a great deal of trouble in dealing with them—though I would rather they had it than Thanos. I’m afraid there are few names I can give you, but the Avengers struck at a number of Hydra’s lairs all across the planet. We made quick work of every last one of them.” 

He smiled to himself as he recalled their missions. “By the second or third, we had devised combat strategies that combined each of our abilities. Romanoff and Barton would ride on Hulk’s back to get in position if Stark or I couldn’t give them a lift, and Stark would ricochet his repulsor blasts off Rogers’s shield to catch them by surprise with the angle of attack. I would use my lightning to boost Stark’s suits—it didn’t work so well when Barton had me try it on an exploding arrow, though. It blew up in my hand. We had a good laugh over it, and Romanoff called us both idiots, which I thought was a bit harsh. Oh, and the best one—Rogers called it the Grand Slam. I tried to convince him that ‘Mighty Slam’ sounded better, but he insisted. Anyway, I would wind up a really good strike with Mjolnir, and then he would throw his shield at me, and—”

Hill cleared her throat loudly. Thor stopped mid-sentence and gave her a questioning look. He realized he had lifted Mjolnir from his side and begun acting out some of the moves he was describing. He also realized that Fury and Hill wore very flat expressions while Romanoff and Loki were both stifling laughter. He set the hammer back down and resumed his seat a little sheepishly, while Hill opened up a large map of Earth’s landmasses and spread firmly it over the table. “Can you show us locations?”

X

Avengers Tower, Summer 2014, Original Timeline

When the Avengers contacted him several months after the Convergence, Thor had been eager to help fight this Hydra enemy they spoke of. Staying with Jane had been wonderful, but even her company could not take his mind off the loss of his mother and brother like a good battle against a hideous monster might.

He was slightly dismayed, therefore, to learn that the word “Hydra” did not refer to a gargantuan beast, but merely an organization of ordinary mortal villains whose bid for control of Midgard had been foiled by Rogers and Romanoff. No matter. He would still help however he could. Following the others’ lead, he assisted them in capturing a fortress manned by many soldiers and containing considerable resources that might have been used for evil purposes.

After the third such mission, Thor noticed that Rogers hadn’t seemed as pleased with their successes as he and the others did. In the short time Thor had known him, he had never been boisterous, even by mortal standards, but he had been particularly reserved since the quest to defeat Hydra began. It was a while before Thor found an opportunity to raise the matter with him, but eventually there came an evening where Stark was immersed in his designs for a machine that could contain the Hulk, Barton was nowhere to be found, and Romanoff was working with Banner on something they called a lullaby, which was meant to help the Hulk calm down and change back into his mortal form. 

“Are you well, Rogers?” Thor asked. “Are you not satisfied with the outcome of the operation?”

Rogers grimaced. “It’s not the operation. We did good.”

Thor grinned. “Indeed, the anvil maneuver worked just as we practiced it.” He clapped Rogers on the shoulder. 

Rogers looked heartened for a moment, no doubt mentally reliving when Thor had struck his shield at just the right angle to send a shockwave directly into the thickest area of the battlefield, but it faded quickly and his expression grew somber. “Thanks for helping with all this, Thor. I know it’s been a rough year for you.”

“It has,” Thor agreed, but he refused to let his spirits fall. “But I know Mother earned her place in Valhalla, and so did Loki.”

“You didn’t tell us much about what happened before London,” said Rogers. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Thor frowned. “Everyone thought I was mad to involve Loki in the plan,” he said. “They were sure he would betray me. I suppose they had good reason. He nearly killed me with the Destroyer, and after we’d thought him dead for a year, he returned only to attempt to conquer Earth. I don’t like to think it took the death of our mother at the hands of a Dark Elf to bring him back to himself, but he...he was the brother I knew again. He stayed true. He protected Jane, he saved my life, and he gave up his own to slay our foe. It was a good death. Better than falling into the void, certainly.” He looked out over the city Loki had attacked. “But still far too early.”

“You’re saying he wasn’t himself when he attacked Earth?” said Rogers.

“No. Someone gave him that scepter, and I believe it came at a high price. I tried to talk to him, persuade him to abandon his schemes and come home to his family, but he wouldn’t hear me. Some of what he said made no sense.” I remember you tossing me into an abyss! Thor grimaced and had to force his hands away from the railing of the balcony before he damaged Stark’s building with his grip.

“When did you realize he was still in there?”

“Not until far too late.” Thor’s throat grew tight. “I was too angry. I didn’t argue with Father’s sentence for him. I never visited him in his cell in the dungeons. I wasn’t even the one to deliver the news of Mother’s death to him. He had to learn of it alone, from someone who didn’t care for her as he did.” 

There was a peculiar intensity about Rogers—beyond his habitual mien. Thor cleared his throat and made an effort to summon back his cheerfulness. “I sought you out to ask after you, and instead….” He gave a very false laugh. “I must be boring you with all my regrets. You only knew my brother as an enemy.”

“No,” said Rogers. He looked rather pained. “Actually a lot of that sounds pretty familiar.”

“What do you mean?” said Thor.

“Growing up, I...I never had a brother,” said Rogers. “But I had someone who was as good as one. He shipped off to the war, and they were never gonna take me until the serum, no matter how hard I tried. By the time I got over there, his unit had been captured. I disobeyed orders to get them out, and then we spent the next year fighting Hydra side-by-side.” A light kindled in his eyes at the memory, but it quickly dimmed. 

Most of the tales of battle Thor was used to were the raucous, joyful sort. He had a little more experience in the other sort now. “What happened?”

“We were fighting our way along a train headed to a Hydra base high up in the mountains. The train car got blasted open over a thousand foot drop to a frozen river, and I didn’t get to him in time. He fell.”

Thor reached automatically for Rogers’s shoulder. Though the image of Loki falling into the void had been replaced behind Thor’s eyelids with alternating memories of Kurse stabbing Frigga in the back and running Loki through, he still remembered exactly how it had felt to watch, powerless, as he disappeared into the collapsing vortex of the Bifrost. That Steven Rogers knew the same pain of impotent loss, and that it had come about in such a similar manner, was truly terrible.

“He’s alive,” said Rogers. 

“Your brother?” said Thor. 

“He was one of the Hydra operatives Natasha and I fought last month. They did something to his mind until there was barely any of him left, but I got through to him in the end. I know I did. He could’a let me drown in the Potomac, but he fished me out instead.”

“But this is wonderful!” Thor cried. “Where is he? I would love to meet him.”

Rogers shook his head. “He disappeared. Natasha got me all the intel she could, and Sam’s been helping me track down leads. Every time we hit another Hydra objective, though, I can’t help wondering if he’ll be inside, fighting on the wrong side again.”

“Then I shall help you find him too!” said Thor. “Tell me what I can do to help.”

Rogers gave him a bittersweet smile. “You’re already helping the best way you can, but thanks. I’ve got this one. I hope.”

Thor felt a twinge of disappointment, but only a small one. He thought he understood, and he nodded. “Then you must tell me when you find him. It will do me good to know that at least one of us succeeded.”

Chapter Text

Brunnhilde hadn’t planned to actually offer Sif a chance to spar. She’d only told Loki that she would think about it, not that she’d do it. And she’d only gone to the King’s Spear because she liked the voda and the matron was good about keeping the other guests from bothering her. That Sif frequented the establishment was entirely a coincidence. Brunnhilde certainly hadn’t been waiting for an opening to talk to her. She didn’t miss the sort of companionship Sif had with the big one with the long beard and the stoic Vanr.

When Fandral arrived, head held low in shame and looking to make his apologies, Brunnhilde had watched covertly from the bar. How quickly would Sif and the other two forgive him for betraying their adopted Jotun prince, especially when Sif had good reason to be cross with Loki? Loki had feared Brunnhilde would kill him on that awful ship if she found out what he was, and that fear must have come from somewhere (well, somewhere besides her having already thrown a dagger at him). If not from his family, then these four were her next guess. 

Fandral left a minute later, as dejected as when he arrived, his friends having not been happy to see him at all. The next thing Brunnhilde knew, she was walking to the training grounds with Sif, the other two trailing in their wake. From the moment she’d made the offer to Sif, it was like she’d shown a wolf pup a stick she was about to throw. Norns.

“Obviously I’ve never sparred against a real Valkyrie before,” said Sif, her words coming faster and at a higher pitch than usual. “I did try visiting the Matriarchs on Vanaheim when I was a girl to see if they would train me, but they wouldn’t do it, so I had to learn what I could from the records.”

A horrible jolt went through Brunnhilde. She hadn’t thought about the Matriarchs in...she didn’t know how long. Her own mother hadn’t survived her time among the Valkyrior, but the majority of those who lived long enough to retire from service went to Vanaheim where the winged horses flew. Just because Brunnhilde’s entire cohort was dead, it didn’t mean every Valkyrie who’d ever served was. A little piece of her shriveled up and died at the thought of any of those women learning how she’d spent her time since her impossible survival on Niflheim. 

“In truth, I don’t often have female opponents at all,” Sif prattled on, oblivious. “I don’t know if I’ve ever fought an opponent shorter than me! Normally I’m sparring with Einherjar or the Warriors Three or the princes. Oh, but are the training grounds the best place? We could go to the Eyries if you’d rath—”

“No,” Brunnhilde cut her off. “The training grounds are fine.”

“Very well. If you haven’t been back there yet, you should know that it’s been taken very good care of. I wish I could’ve seen it when it was full of warriors and their flying steeds.”

Sif might as well be her as a little girl. Brunnhilde gritted her teeth. That little girl had been an idealistic fool.

X

Ava paced her flat restlessly. Bill should be here any minute to help her move her quantum chamber to a safe location. She hadn’t told him why she was leaving SHIELD (the less he knew, the less trouble he’d be able to get in because of her), but he hadn’t asked.

There was a knock on the door. She let herself fade until she wouldn’t be seen, then stuck her face through the door. It wasn’t Bill. It was Agent Barton. She glanced around. He was alone, or appeared to be, and he carried no weapons. She hesitated, then retreated back inside, made herself corporeal again, and opened the door.

“Why are you here?” she asked before he could speak.

“You haven’t had any other visitors, have you?”

“No.” She neglected to mention Bill. One way or the other, Barton would be gone before he showed up. She moved aside so he could come in.

“Is your apartment secure?” he said once the door was closed behind him.

“I checked it as soon as I got back.”

“Good.” He turned to face her. He had a way of looking at her that felt like he was more of a concerned uncle type than a fellow agent. It wasn’t that different from how Bill looked at her. But she knew it was real with Bill; Barton could just be playing a part. “Fury sent me to help you lie low. He wants Hydra to suspect an inside job. Could make it easier to take them down.” 

She stared. She’d murdered the link between SHIELD and the WSC, a man who held equal rank to the Director. And that was just...okay because he was also Hydra? 

Her incredulity must have shown. He took a step closer, that concerned look intensifying. “You still have allies, Ava.”

She stepped back. “I know I have. I’m just not sure you’re one of them.” A wave of tearing pain crashed over her, and she couldn’t stop the groan that escaped her. She really should have spent the whole morning in the quantum chamber, but she’d been too busy preparing to leave.

“Are you okay?” said Barton, though he didn’t try to come nearer this time.

She shot him a sneer. “My body has been ripping itself apart and putting itself back together at the cellular level every day since I was nine, and yesterday I found out the people who promised to fix it have really just been using me. What do you bloody think?”

“But you’re a kid!” he blurted, looking appalled.

She smiled bitterly. “Are you sure you know who you’re working for? Unique assets don’t get to be that.”

Some of the color drained out of his face. That, at least, she doubted he could fake. He swallowed. “I get why you don’t want to trust me. But I’m still gonna do what I can to keep Hydra off your back, and once we get rid of them, I’ll make sure that SHIELD becomes something that wouldn’t take advantage of kids who need our help. In the meantime, I know some pretty smart people—not part of SHIELD—who might be able to help you.”

“What, you mean the Avengers? Stark and Banner?”

“Yeah. Maybe the Asgardians too. Their technology makes ours look like a joke.”

She watched him, looking closely for any sign it was a trick.

He sighed. “Just think about it, okay?” He pulled a small slip of paper out of his pocket. “And contact me if you ever need anything.” He set the paper down on the table in the entryway, then turned and left the flat.

X

Thor walked out of the briefing room feeling very disgruntled. Why were some mortals so opposed to hearing the fun parts of stories? Just because the main purpose of a discussion was gathering important intelligence against an enemy didn’t mean that had to be all there was to it. But perhaps when you weren’t likely to live to see even a full century, you felt a greater urgency about getting to the point. 

He spotted Coulson stepping out of an office farther down the hall and hailed him. Coulson looked around and slowed down so Thor could catch up before he got into the elevator.

“Done with the meeting already?” 

“The meeting’s done with me, more like. Loki’s still in there. They think he’s better suited to covert strategy and such.”

“Exactly how right are they about that?”

“One time I led Loki and our friends to a hostile world, marched directly into the royal court, and started making accusations straight to the king’s face.” 

“Impressive,” said Coulson.

Thor grinned ruefully. “I’m not quite so hopeless as that anymore. Did Barton and Romanoff tell you about Sakaar?”

“I haven’t had a chance to get to the report. Want to tell me yourself over lunch?”

“Certainly!” said Thor, very pleased. Even if Fury and Hill didn’t appreciate his storytelling, the son of Coul might.

X

The boxes of files on the second half of the 20th century and the beginning of the 21st kept coming, and Steve had read through the night and skipped breakfast to pore through them. He spent a disproportionate amount of time on the latter half of the ‘40s. How the Allies had won the war, the subsequent treatment of the defeated Axis powers. The sheer scale of the Holocaust—they’d already known some of it by early ‘45, but these files contained statistics and photographs of mass graves and the “walking skeletons” rescued from camps just weeks after Steve had gone into the ice. 

He read about the long years of the Cold War. Romanoff apparently was a product of it, and much of SHIELD’s work before the ‘90s had been concerned with combatting Soviet infiltration and sabotage attempts. That entire period was discouraging to read about. Before World War II, the general attitude towards the Soviets hadn’t been great, but Steve never would have imagined his country and theirs would spend the next four decades in a tense nuclear standoff full of espionage and proxy wars. The Iron Curtain and the Red Scare were a striking contrast to the strong alliance the US built with post-war Japan. 

And then there were Korea, Vietnam, and the wars in the Middle East. As someone who had lost his father to a war before he was even born and lost friends to its sequel, Steve couldn’t help feeling disheartened by how few of the years he’d missed had been peaceful ones. 

All the while, technology and medicine had advanced beyond recognition, music was different, buildings were different, even the way people talked was different. Steve hadn’t felt so unprepared to fight Hydra since Erskine’s murder. Maybe not even then. They very much had the home-field advantage on him now, and no matter how many files he read, he doubted he’d be able to change that. He might be more of a liability to this mission than a help. 

By midday, his stomach became too insistent to ignore. Having quadruple the metabolism of the average person tended to require a lot of fuel. He headed down to the mess, where he found Thor surrounded by a small crowd of wide-eyed SHIELD agents, including Dr. Simmons, the agent who’d given him his lanyard, and one who’d stammered through describing his collection of vintage Captain America trading cards.

Thor was on his feet, gesturing enthusiastically with a hammer the size of a cinder block, apparently halfway through a story about a battle. “At last, I got the signal from Barton and Romanoff, so I stopped going easy on him,” he said. Then he spotted Steve, and stood up straight from his crouch. “Rogers! Sorry, you’ll all have to wait a moment for the rest.” A collective groan went through his audience, but he paid them no heed and bounded over to Steve. 

“You wanted to talk to me?” 

“Yes, I’ve something important to tell you about Hydra.”

Steve shot an alarmed glance at the agents ahead of him in line for food. What the hell was Thor doing mentioning Hydra out in the open?

“Oh, don’t worry, you’re the only one who can understand me right now,” said Thor. Sure enough, the only other people in earshot were staring at Thor like he was speaking total gibberish. Thor smiled blandly at them and they looked away, bewildered.

“Uh...okay?” said Steve. 

“I—er, Heimdall, that is, the Gatekeeper of Asgard, he was able to spare a moment to look for Hydra activity, and he...recognized one of the men at a facility of theirs.”

Having only met the guy a day ago, Steve couldn’t be quite sure if Thor was just excited or if he was being very strange, but he didn’t question it. “Recognized him? From what?”

“From the war you fought in,” said Thor. His eyes were wide, like he was trying to give Steve an important hint. 

“Like...a veteran?” said Steve. “Yeah, there are still a lot of those around, I’ve been told.” He’d been tossing around the idea of going to an old folks’ home to meet a few of them, maybe get some perspective on his missing decades from his actual peers instead of dry files for a change.

“No, Heimdall said he still looks young. He’s been made to serve Hydra’s purposes, though he was one of the valiant warriors who fought at your side.” Thor’s eyes got wider still. Steve had no idea what he was getting at, but his heart was speeding up. “Heimdall was surprised to see him alive, after his seeming demise decades ago. When he fell from a great height towards a frozen river.”

All the air vanished from the room. Steve’s ears were ringing and the colors of Thor’s armor and the food packaging grew brighter.

Bucky.

Of everything that had happened in the last few days, this made the least sense, particularly considering the source, and yet he wanted it to be true more than he’d ever wanted anything. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” If he wasn’t, they were about to find out how the serum compared to the durability of Asgardian noses.

Thor’s face was full of sincerity and a level of empathy Steve couldn’t account for. “He’s alive, Rogers. Hydra has him, but he’s alive. I thought you should be the first to know.” He clapped a hand to Steve’s shoulder. “Not everything from your time is lost to you.”

X

There were two ways bouts could work in the training grounds. You could battle against the foe constructs—conjured enemies made of light whose behavior was governed by examples from archived conflicts. You could also battle live opponents. A generation or so ago, the latter had resulted in so many wounds that it accounted for most of the patients the healing rooms saw during times of peace, but clever seidr architects had implemented a system that significantly reduced these injuries. When activated, the network of spells prevented any bladed weapon from actually piercing or cutting living flesh. Instead, an effective strike would merely leave a red streak upon the target to indicate a hit (and likely at least a minor bruise underneath).

Within half an hour of sparring with Brunnhilde, Sif had accumulated more red streaks than she had in any bout since her early years of training, while only managing to score a handful of times. If her opponent had been anyone else, it would have been a severe blow to her pride, but she was simply in awe. The Valkyrie commander was nothing short of a genius of martial combat, her movements an efficient blend of grace and brutality. Watching the records couldn’t come close to the experience of actually facing her. The few hits she’d managed to land on her were worth more than a dozen victories each.

“Had enough?” Brunnhilde asked through gritted teeth as Sif barely managed to get her sword up to guard against a downward strike from the Dragonfang. 

“Of course not!” said Sif, panting slightly. She pressed the release that split her sword into two separate weapons and struck at Brunnhilde’s leg, only for her to catch it on a dagger. “I haven’t had this much fun in ages!”

“Certainly not from a bout you were losing, anyway!” Volstagg called from the stone benches. Sif rolled her eyes, a lapse in attention that cost her another strike, this time on the shoulder.

“Is this what training would be like?” Sif asked.

Brunnhilde’s eyes flashed, and Sif’s smile faltered. 

“You think you’re ready to train as a Valkyrie?” said Brunnhilde. 

She did a complex bit of footwork almost reminiscent of the Valknut dance steps, and suddenly Sif’s right foot was being swept out from under her. She landed hard enough on her back for the breath to whoosh out of her. “I’m ready!” she declared. It came out more of a gasp than she wanted, but that couldn’t be helped. 

Brunnhilde continued to advance rather than giving her a moment to get to her feet. “Yeah? Ready for what, exactly?” She struck, and Sif parried from the ground, trying to put more distance between them. “To be the most celebrated sacrificial lamb in the realm? How about to watch everyone you love slaughtered by your king’s butcher of a daughter?”

Sif stared at her in dismay. She took another two strikes before managing to push herself back up. “I—”

“You want to know what being a Valkyrie got me next?” Brunnhilde was shouting now. She shoved Sif hard in the breastplate, sending her flying back with enough force to collide with the low stone wall yards behind her, and still Brunnhilde advanced. “It got me stuck in a box on display for a hundred years!” In two swift moves, she used the Dragonfang and dagger to flick both halves of Sif’s weapon out of her hands. “There was no escape, not even death. None of my training, none of the battles I won helped me. Then I got a choice: stay in the box or put other people in chains. I chose the latter.” 

Sif tried to move around her, but the arm with the dagger clotheslined her across the throat while the blade sliced through the mail atop her shoulder and pinned her to the wall. Brunnhilde raised the Dragonfang to point it directly into Sif’s face. “Does that sound glorious to you? Is that what you want to sign up for?!”

Sif couldn’t speak. She was going to be covered in bruises later, but she didn’t care. She felt tears prickling, partly in humiliation but mostly in horror at what one of her greatest heroines had endured. “I’m sorry,” she said. “Please forgive my presumption.”

Brunnhilde backed away as if Sif’s words had burned her, chest heaving and eyes wide. She turned and saw Volstagg and Hogun staring at her. They’d come up off their seats as if uncertain whether to intervene or not. She looked back at Sif once, then pulled the dagger free and fled the training grounds.

Chapter Text

Brunnhilde ran. Up the waterfall stairs behind the palace, through the city past bewildered people going about their day, and finally out along the gleaming bridge of crystal. She didn’t stop running until she reached Himinbjorg, where a lone figure stood, facing the cosmos. “Send me somewhere else,” she said, clutching the slight stitch in her side. “Anywhere that isn’t Asgard.”

Heimdall turned and looked at her with those golden eyes she used to see every day, but she didn’t want to think about that. She didn’t want to think about the tall, strong, patient, and kind son of a Valkyrie whom she and the other younger children growing up in the Eyries had looked up to like a brother. She didn’t want to think about how besting him in a sparring match had been one of her proudest moments, or how he had smiled at her in congratulations for being the youngest to do it. Now he was just the obstacle between her and getting as far away from Asgard as possible.

“Where would you like to go?” he said, his thoughts impossible to discern from his tone. “Midgard? The prince would be glad of your company, I’m sure. Or perhaps Vanaheim. My mother and her sisters gave up hoping long ago that they would ever see one of their successors alive again.”

“Stop it!” she cried. “Just stop, damn it!”

“Stop what, Brunnhilde?”

“Stop treating me like I deserve to be here. Like I deserve respect or attention from any of you! I’m not the same person who went to Niflheim. You don’t know what I’ve done!”

Heimdall stepped away from Hofund’s plinth and came towards her. She didn’t know what he was doing until his arms were around her. All the frantic momentum that carried her here evaporated and she collapsed into the embrace. A terrible sound tore its way free from her throat and tears poured down her face. “Why did it have to be me who survived, Heimdall?” she sobbed. “It should’ve been Solveig. It should’ve been anyone else.”

He didn’t say anything. He just held onto her.

X

If Steve had found out Bucky was alive while still in ‘45, he would’ve taken off without a real plan or backup to go rescue him (except Peggy and Howard would’ve insisted on helping, just like the first time), but that wasn’t an option. Bucky wasn’t simply a POW being held captive by Hydra. According to Thor, Hydra was somehow forcing him to work for them. Steve needed help. He figured he could handle whatever was going on with Bucky once someone who knew how the 21st century worked got him to wherever he was. For that, his first thought was Tony. (He couldn’t keep calling him Stark in his head without thinking of Howard.) 

The first obstacle was that he wasn’t exactly sure how to find Tony. He thought about it while eating his lunch. Thor had gone back to telling stories to the SHIELD agents, and it was keeping the attention off Steve pretty effectively. By the time he’d cleaned off his tray, Loki arrived in the mess, accompanied by Agent Romanoff. He headed straight for his brother, but she peeled off when she spotted Steve sitting alone.

“Make it through your reading material already?” she asked, an eyebrow raised.

“Just the next batch of it,” said Steve.

“I can have them send in another one,” she said.

“Actually I was hoping to get in touch with Tony.”

She smirked, which made him nervous. “Then you’re in luck. Come with me.” 

That only made him more nervous, but he followed her anyway. She led him to an elevator and hit one of the buttons at the bottom. The doors closed them in, and he couldn’t help being reminded of Private Lorraine tugging him into that corner for a smooch. Based on what he’d seen so far, Romanoff seemed very professional, but he wouldn’t put it past Fury to give her orders to keep an...intimately close eye on him if he thought he needed to. Steve wasn’t sure what he’d do if that happened. He just had to hope no such orders had been given. There was no denying that Romanoff was a real dish, despite modern fashion, but he couldn’t think about how pretty another woman was so soon after missing his dance with Peggy. (“Soon.” What a joke. He still hadn’t been able to bring himself to open her file, but she had to have moved on ages ago.) 

“Did Coulson show you his cards?” she said.

“What?” said Steve. “Oh, yeah. He wants me to sign them.”

She shook her head a little, making her red curls bounce. “He won’t be the last, but he might be the most enthusiastic.”

The elevator dinged and the doors opened on a parking garage that was mostly full of sleek black vehicles, but with a few exceptions that stood out. 

“That’s Lola,” said Romanoff, nodding at a cherry red convertible that looked a little more like the cars he was used to than the rest of them. It actually reminded him of Howard’s short-lived flying car demonstration. “Coulson might let you touch her if you hold your signature on those cards hostage for a few days.” She walked past it towards a row of motorcycles. Most of them looked streamlined and devoid of character, but right there at the end of the row was a Harley that wasn’t too different from the one he’d ridden in the war.

He ran his fingers over the seat and the handlebars. “Is this—?”

“Not quite. It’s a ‘52. Still thought you might like it a little better than the SUVs, though.”

She was right about that, whatever an SUV was, but if they were going to share a ride, he’d rather go in one of those big cars. Before he could figure out a way to suggest that without sounding rude, she climbed onto the bike next to the Harley. “There are still a few of them out there as vintage as you are if you want to find one,” she added with a grin, then turned the key to bring the engine roaring to life and peeled out before he could say a word. 

He let out a startled laugh, hopped on the Harley, and raced after her.

X

Brunnhilde had cried out all of the tears in her, at least for now. She and Heimdall sat side-by-side at the edge of Himinbjorg, looking out at the stars, their feet dangling over open space. He had removed his helmet and left it by the sword. “You got older,” she said, noting the faint hints of gray in his beard.

“And you didn’t,” he replied. 

“Sakaar is weird like that. Is get older all you’ve done?”

“Not quite,” said Heimdall with a soft smile.

Brunnhilde raised an eyebrow. “Yeah? What’s her name?”

“Groa. We have a son. Astrid.”

She made a face. “You named your son Astrid?”

He chuckled. “Perhaps you could’ve helped me persuade Groa to choose another if you returned a few centuries sooner. He doesn’t like it much either lately.”

“Does he have your eyes?” 

“He does. He and Groa live in the city when they aren’t visiting my mother. They’d love to meet you.”

“How often do you get to be with them?”

“Perhaps less often than I would wish, but my sight makes that easier. Especially now that Astrid is learning how to use his.” He glanced at her. “Did you ever try to come home?”

She looked away, drawing her knees up under her chin and wrapping her arms around them. Of course he couldn’t let them just keep talking about him. “Why? Even if I could have, there was nothing left for me here.”

“You know that isn’t true. Your parents and the Valkyrior may have known and loved you best, but they weren’t the only ones who cared for you. The rest of us aren’t fools to do it either. The Norns have given you a chance to start again.”

“They aren’t who I’m worried about.”

“Your captor is more concerned with the loss of his reign than the loss of you.”

“For now.”

“There are many who would help you, if you would but ask. Even the Allfather.”

“I know.”

There was a long silence, and it felt surprisingly peaceful.

“Do you still want me to open the Bifrost for you?”

A smile stole across her face.

X

Tony hadn’t spent much time at the Virginia house since pulling Stark Industries out of all the weapons contracts. It was an exquisitely preserved early Tudor revival mansion with full modernization blended seamlessly into the original structure. It wasn’t really his style, and the workshop was pathetic compared to the Malibu house, but he wasn’t leaving until the Brodinsons were homebound. Pepper was still in California, though, and Tony was hoping to change that. Once he had her fully convinced that he wasn’t here for another Congressional hearing, she’d be out of excuses.

“Okay, JARVIS, how close are we to cracking this thing?”

“I have successfully decrypted a few layers of SHIELD’s security, Mr. Stark. Nothing appears out of the ordinary yet.”

“Yeah, Hydra’s files have to be buried pretty deep. How about any patterns in the language used that only make sense if there is a secret organization of Nazis hiding inside?”

“Excellent idea, sir.”

“You know, if Hydra’s smart—not a common trait among fascists, but never underestimate the enemy—they’ll have all the most important stuff tucked away in a closed system. Less efficient but way more secure. We might need a physical interface.”

“How do you propose to gain that kind of access?”

The buzz of the gate rang out, and the image from the security feed dropped into the air over top of the glowing holograms of SHIELD files. Tony smirked. “I guess we’d need a spy for that.”

“I take it you’d like me to grant Agent Romanoff and Captain Rogers entrance?”

“Send them in.”

X

Loki and Thor had mostly finished eating the bland offerings of SHIELD’s feast hall, and most of the agents around them had gradually left to attend to their duties. Only Coulson remained, and they had been joined by a nervous Banner (who had spent most of the trip to Earth so far inside his SHIELD quarters, trying to attract as little attention as possible). Something from earlier was bothering Loki, but he didn’t really want to discuss it in front of the mortals. Fortunately, Banner seemed to have his own plans.

“Hey, uh, Agent Coulson,” he said. 

“Yes?” said Coulson.

“Can I ask you a favor?” He jerked his head towards the corridor. Coulson glanced at the brothers, who made no objection, then went with the doctor.

Loki looked at what remained on his plate, grimaced, and pushed it away. “What did you mean earlier when you mentioned an ‘Earth wizard’?” he asked.

Thor looked around at him, having watched Coulson and Banner walk off. “Oh, just some stupid hraumi we met right before we learned about Hela in the original timeline. He kept teleporting me all over his headquarters even though it wasn’t that big of a building. Showoff. And he stole a strand of my hair.”

“But mortals don’t have seidr. Are you certain you weren’t merely falling for a magician’s tricks?”

“He made a portal that sent us all the way to the land where the Aesir-Jotnar war began,” said Thor. “It was no trick.” 

“Then where did his power come from? Was he using enchanted items?”

“He had some of those,” said Thor, frowning. “But I don’t think they were responsible for every spell he did.”

Loki’s mind was racing. He felt sure that Asgard would know about it if mortals had their own form of seidr. The common belief was that their lack of it was to blame for their short lifespans. But perhaps the mortal’s power didn’t come from within at all. What if he’d found another source? Loki had to find out. “Where did we meet this wizard?”

“He was in New York. I think the little card said Bleecker Street? I’m sure I can find it again.”

“Good. We’re going right now.”

Thor’s face suddenly went blank, and then his eyes flashed gold. Loki frowned at him. “What, is it a message from Heimdall?”

“What?” said Thor, eyes blue again. “No, why would you ask that? Aren’t we going to New York? Let’s get going already.” And he marched off before Loki could call him on his dreadful lying. 

Nobody barred their path on the way out of the Triskelion, so they were able to set off with ease. Thor spun Mjolnir and hurled himself skyward, while Loki chose a falcon form and followed by wing. Loki had not closely studied the geography of Midgard in some time, during which the layouts of the cities had changed a great deal, but Thor seemed confident in his direction. After about a quarter of an hour, Loki began to recognize some of the buildings from when he had led that repulsive beige creature on a chase across the city. 

...All of the buildings, actually. He beat his wings faster and drew level with Thor to give him an avian approximation of a suspicious glare. Thor pretended not to notice and kept on flying. Loki cuffed him over the head with a wing, and Thor laughed without slowing down. After another moment, they were touching down in the middle of the small Kingsbridge park. Loki couldn’t transform back into his usual body quickly enough. “Thor, what—”

The air hummed, giving him a second’s warning before the column of light slammed down in front of them. Loki stared at Thor, who was beaming triumphantly. What, had Sif, Volstagg, and Hogun decided to surprise them? He looked back at the Bifrost, which faded to reveal not them but a single figure. Brunnhilde! He didn’t have time to so much as splutter her name before she gave him a radiant smile and launched herself at him. He managed to catch her in his arms, but still spun around with the impact, his cheek burning where she kissed it. 

“Is this the new plan?” he asked, trying to feign a cross tone even though his heart was light as air and he probably had a very stupid grin on his face. He couldn’t find it in him to care that a number of mortals of various ages were standing about the park, staring at the three of them and the singed circle of grass in astonishment. “We can’t seem to find any privacy, so now we’ll just make theatrical displays on purpose?”

“Works for me,” said Brunnhilde. 

“Welcome to Midgard!” said Thor, throwing an arm around each of their shoulders. He still looked as pleased as if her arrival had been his idea. “We were just about to go visit some wizards. Want to come?”

X

Security Alert: Unauthorized access of SHIELD Operations files 0093992-0127392

Security Alert: Unauthorized access of SHIELD Personnel files 18:13.5858.86-27:15.7934.12

Execute Program: Trace security breach.

Detect Source:

...Pending…

...Pending…

Detect Source: Error. Signal encrypted.

Execute Program: Run decryption.

...Pending…

...Pending…

...Pending…

Decryption successful.

Signal Source: 

Relay: 46.316584 71.656700

Relay: -4.565474 22.051412

Relay: 60.413852 9.738508

Relay: -18.646245 -65.194304

Relay: -24.478400 129.389422

Signal Source: 38.122809 -77.842153

Query: Access property records for 233 Maple Court Brookings, VA 20123.

...Pending…

Result: Property purchased by Stark, Howard Anthony Walter, 1953. Inherited by Stark, Anthony Edward, 1991.

Identify Enemy Program: 

...Pending…

...Pending…

Identify Enemy Program: Just A Rather Very Intelligent System.

Execute Countermeasures: Deploy malware.

Query: Access Triskelion Security Archive.

Reassess Threat Level for Stark, Anthony Edward.

Reassess Threat Level for SHIELD Operation Codename: Avengers Initiative.

Reassess Threat Level for Fury, Nicholas Joseph.

Chapter Text

“I don’t think I’ve seen you smile like that before,” said Loki. “What brought it on?” He and Brunnhilde were a few paces behind Thor as he marched confidently along the streets of New York City. To minimize the startled stares they were all getting, Loki had reapplied the illusions to his and Thor’s armor and added one to Brunnhilde’s leathers. The Dragonfang he’d disguised as a rebec strung across her back. Her Valkyrie braids he left unchanged, but her boots now looked more like they were from Earth, and she appeared to be wearing one of those leather coats that barely went past the waist and a pair of pale blue trousers covered in rips and worn patches. He’d seen several humans in such articles and had to assume that the purpose of wearing them was to make oneself intimidating by giving off the impression of having recently survived encountering some kind of fearsome, clawed creature. 

“Heimdall, mostly,” said Brunnhilde. “He’s one thing I’m actually glad hasn’t changed.”

“What did he do?” 

“I sort of went to the Bifrost to run away, but we talked. It was good.”

“You were close before?”

“He’s a few centuries older than me, and he was that kid everyone looked up to when I was little. Astrid is lucky to have him for a father.” 

“I think he’s always been wise beyond his years because of his sight,” said Loki, though trying to imagine Heimdall as anything but the adult Gatekeeper was bizarre. He was going to have to thank him for helping her the next time he saw him. The thought of returning to Asgard only to discover that she had fled was not a pleasant one.

“He gets it from his mother. Did you know he’s the son of a Valkyrie?”

“Thor and Sif found out about as soon as they learned to read. They pestered him nonstop for stories about her.”

Brunnhilde shot Loki a look both suspicious and amused. “Only Thor and Sif? Meanwhile, you were aloof and uninterested?”

“I may have listened in. Raptly. But my sense of decorum was always better than theirs.”

“I can believe that,” she snorted.

“Oh dear, did the sparring match go that badly?”

She shrugged and looked away. “Only partly. Sif had as much fun as you thought she would, at least until the end. I was the one who wasn’t ready for it.”

“I’m sorry I asked you to do it.”

“No, I think I needed that.”

“What happened?”

“She said she wanted me to train her to be a Valkyrie and I went a bit mad on her.”

“Is it such a terrible request?”

“It’s not that. She reminds me of me, if anything. But she only looks up to me because I’m a Valkyrie, not because she knows me. If she did, she’d run the other way.”

“I know you a little better than she does, and I’m not running either.”

“It’s different. We started off being assholes to each other, so I know you haven’t just got stars in your eyes.”

“The two needn’t be mutually exclusive,” said Loki. She jabbed an elbow at his ribs, then slipped her arm around his waist beneath his surcoat. He laughed, draped his arm across her shoulders, and bent to kiss her temple. It was nice not having to worry about passersby gossiping about the prince and the Valkyrie. They were just two more people in the crowd.

“How much farther are the wizards?” Brunnhilde called.

“We’re nearly there,” said Thor cheerfully over his shoulder. 

X

“And...Thor is the one who told you about this?” said Stark.

Natasha had listened mostly without contributing as Rogers explained that his childhood best friend, Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes, was apparently alive, not an old man, and being used by Hydra. She had to suppress a groan that the information had come from Thor. She knew he just wanted to help them all get to a better future than the one he came from, but it seemed that no matter how much SHIELD tried to finesse the strategy, he was going to keep approaching everything with the bluntness of his giant hammer. At least he’d managed to convey the information to Rogers without giving away that he was a time traveler.

“Yeah, he said Asgard’s Gatekeeper recognized Bucky from, I guess, glimpses of the war.”

“Okay, still not used to having a bunch of all-seeing aliens in the game,” said Stark.

“You’re working on getting into Hydra’s files through these computer things, right?” said Rogers. “Can you help me find him?”

“Course,” said Stark without hesitation. He began fiddling with his holographic interface. Almost immediately, images and paragraphs began popping up in the air. Barnes’s service records, it looked like.

“Holy mackerel,” said Rogers. He put a hand out experimentally to touch the nearest hologram, which fuzzed and distorted around his fingers.

“Could get tricky, though,” said Stark. “He disappeared, what, beginning of ‘45? If it was Hydra who found him, I’m guessing they didn’t hand over those files when the digital age came along and SHIELD started putting stuff on servers. I don’t think we’ll be able to trace him that way unless we find the physical paper trail. I could always have JARVIS try some facial recognition, see if anything turns up.” 

“Without additional parameters to narrow the search, it will take some time, sir,” said JARVIS. Rogers didn’t quite jump, but he clearly still wasn’t used to the disembodied voice.

“And he’s still young?” said Natasha, moving to stand in front of one of the photographs, scanning the features of the handsome face like Barnes was a mark she needed to memorize for an op. “That would stand out.”

“Hydra sitting on the fountain of youth or something?” said Stark. 

“Not sure we can rule it out,” said Natasha. If the Norse gods were real, what else was possible?

“Although maybe they just cloned him and it’s not the same guy. Would Heimdall be able to tell the difference?”

“What do you mean ‘cloned him’?” said Rogers.

“A genetic duplicate,” said Stark. “He’d look exactly the same as the original but he’d be a completely new person. Think identical twins, just on a serious delay.”

Rogers’s face fell, and Natasha felt a pang of sympathy for him. She wanted this to be real, and she doubted Thor would’ve made such a point of telling him if it wasn’t actually Barnes out there. “But why would they clone an Allied soldier when they could just work with subjects who are already loyal to them?” she said, hoping to steer them away from this theory.

“Maybe because of the experiments Zola did on him and the rest of the Commandos while they were prisoners,” said Rogers, his expression hollow. “Schmidt was using them as lab rats to try to recreate Erskine’s serum. Zola never got that far, but what he did still put them all on a different level from the other soldiers.”

Stark shook his head. “Those kinds of enhancements would need to have changed their DNA to carry over to a clone, and considering that DNA wasn’t discovered until the ‘50s, that seems unlikely.”

Rogers perked up a little. “What if the same thing happened to him as to me? I came out of the ice just like I went in. That river in the Alps was freezing, so maybe…?” He trailed off with a wince as if apologizing for voicing a stupid idea. Stark, on the other hand, frowned.

“Hey super-spy lady,” he said, turning to Natasha. “Is SHIELD sitting on working cryonics? I would’ve called it sci-fi quackery to con gullible rich people until three days ago, but that was before I found out he did it by accident.” He jerked a thumb at Rogers.

“If it is, it’s above my security clearance,” said Natasha. “It would be one way to keep Barnes from aging normally, though.”

“Then it’s one avenue to go down,” said Stark. “Give me a few minutes to figure out what kind of equipment would have to go into a working cryo facility, and then I can limit the facial recognition search to anywhere that qualifies.”

“That should narrow things down considerably,” said JARVIS.

“Thank you,” said Steve with a tight but sincere smile. He turned to study the most recent photograph from the military files.

“Just a few minutes to solve a piece of sci-fi quackery?” Natasha muttered to Stark. 

“You know, I think I’m gonna name my new element Tonium.”

She pulled a face like she was thinking hard. “How many other planets have you been to?”

He actually pouted. “Touché.”

“I’m sure Thor and Loki will bring you for a visit too if you ask nicely.”

“I’m already bleeding out here, Romanoff. You don’t have to twist the knife.”

X

At last, Thor saw the building he was looking for. It was slightly more ornate than its neighbors (very slightly, by Asgardian standards), which made it stand out. He briefly turned to look at Loki to make sure he hadn’t vanished into a portal like last time, and nearly did a double-take at the sight of him and Brunnhilde contentedly following in his wake, arms slung around each other like they were an ordinary sight-seeing couple. It was rare enough for Loki to be in such a good mood, but he didn’t know Brunnhilde was capable of it. He turned back around before they could see him smiling. “We’re here,” he announced, and jogged up the stone steps. He was prepared for them all to be teleported inside mid-knock, but he was able to rap his knuckles on the sturdy wooden door several times without incident. “Hmm, feeling less irritating today, I hope.”

Loki and Brunnhilde joined him on the doorstep. Thor was about to try knocking again when the door opened to reveal a slice of the dark-wooded interior and a man he didn’t recognize. He was about the same height as the wizard he’d met and wore clothing of a similar style, but his hair was longer and grayer, he lacked any beard, and his expression was wary. 

“Hello,” said Thor. “Is the one called Stephen Strange inside?”

The man narrowed his eyes. “You have the wrong house. No one by that name lives here.”

Undeterred, Thor gestured to Loki. “My brother is a talented and learned sorcerer, and he’s interested in meeting some Earth wizards. If Strange isn’t—”

“Someone must have played you for a fool,” the man interrupted coldly, “but you won’t find me as susceptible to nonsense and rumor.”

“Perhaps a demonstration, then,” said Loki. Green light passed over him, Thor, and Brunnhilde, dispelling the glamour that hid their Asgardian garb. 

The man’s eyes went wide. He shifted into a combat stance and made quick maneuvers with his hands. Shining golden glyphs fanned out from them to form disks, which he held in front of him like they were shields. 

“I told you,” said Thor. 

Loki’s face was shining with eagerness. “How are you doing that? This power isn’t seidr at all!”

The man did not relax his pose. “How did you find this place?” he demanded.

“Kaecilius,” said a woman’s voice commandingly from deeper inside the hall. “Let them enter.”

X

Ava slipped inside the Triskelion as easily as she had the day before. She couldn’t just take Agent Barton at his word. It would be stupid to trust anyone from SHIELD so quickly. 

But she wanted him to be telling the truth. Her life would be much easier if he was, and so would Bill’s. Bill was reluctant to delay the trip to California long enough to find out. He had a house in the woods not far from Berkeley with plenty of room to set up her quantum chamber, and they had everything packed into a U-Haul ready to go. No matter how anxious he was to be on the road, however, she couldn’t leave until she knew how much of a problem SHIELD was going to be for them. 

Hoping for a quick lead on where Barton might be, she went to the security office and scanned the many feeds over the shoulders of the guards on duty. After about five minutes, she spotted him heading along the corridor of the top floor. She managed to slip through the elevator doors in time to catch a ride with a few agents most of the way up, then took the stairs for the rest. 

Barton wasn’t in the corridor anymore by the time she reached it, so she walked through the walls of all the offices it connected to instead. If he wasn’t on this side, she’d do the same on the other, but that proved unnecessary. She found him inside the Director’s office, and they didn’t look terribly happy with each other.

“—her back in after this is all over,” Barton was saying, “you’re going to have to find someone else to do it. The only thing I’m going to offer her is help.” 

“She’s a skilled field agent, Barton,” said Fury. “She took out the head of Hydra and got away clean. If there’s a chance she’ll be willing to keep working with us in the future, I’m not just gonna let that bridge burn.”

Ava didn’t have any time for anger to boil up before Barton was firing back. “If you had kids, Director, maybe you wouldn’t be able to be so cold about this. It wasn’t just Hydra that stole Ava’s childhood. SHIELD let it happen because she was useful. It wasn’t right. We’re lucky Pierce is the only one she went after, and more of us will deserve it if we don’t make good on the promises we made to her.” 

Ava stared at Barton in surprise. Was this all an act? They had to at least suspect she might follow him back to spy on his debriefing, but...

There was a knock at the door. “Yeah?” said Fury, clearly frustrated.

The door opened and in walked Deputy Director Hill. “We might have a situation, sir.”

“What kind of situation?”

“This was filmed in the Bronx about fifteen minutes ago.” She flipped the tablet she was holding around so that he could see the screen. Ava moved to get a better look too. It showed a YouTube video of what seemed to be a family enjoying a birthday celebration at a park. Then, something flew into frame in the background and the one holding the camera swore and focused on that instead. It was unmistakably Thor, and in the next second, the large bird next to him transformed into Loki. In another couple seconds, the whole screen went white and crackly while lots of shouting and jostling happened, and then the image resolved into some kind of pillar of light. It faded to reveal a dark-skinned woman standing alone on charred grass, who then leapt at Loki and embraced him. 

“What the—,” said Fury. 

“How did they even get to New York?” said Barton. 

“Where the hell is Coulson?” said Fury.

Hill turned the tablet back around and started tapping on it. “The logs show that he left the Triskelion with Dr. Banner, en route to Culver University.”

“What about Nat?” said Barton.

More tapping. “She took Rogers to go see Stark at his Virginia residence.”

Fury made an exasperated noise. “Like herding a bunch of damn cats.”

Ava wasn’t going to hear anything else about her own situation, and it was becoming increasingly painful to remain invisible. With one last glance at Barton, she left Fury’s office.

X

Kaecilius didn’t think it was very wise to just let an unknown sorcerer and his armed companions into the Sanctum, but the Ancient One must have her reasons. He wasn’t about to leave her to face them alone, though, and he retreated only as far as a spot near the base of the grand staircase in the event that they revealed dangerous intentions. 

“What brings the princes of Asgard and a Valkyrie to our doors?” she asked. Kaecilius stared at them in disbelief. Of course. He should have realized it from the moment the umbrella turned into a hammer. Thor. And that would make the sorcerer Loki. He’d grown up on tales of them. He’d repeated those tales to his boy. His chest tightened at the thought. The grief was never going to leave him, was it? No matter how deeply he studied the mystic arts, the peace and new sense of purpose the Ancient One had promised were going to evade him forever.

“Curiosity,” said Loki. “The study of magic has been my life’s pursuit, and yet I never knew mortals were capable of wielding it. How is this accomplished?”

“The answer is one I am sure you would love to hear,” said the Ancient One. “Alas, it is my curiosity you will have to indulge.”

“Curiosity about what?” said Thor.

She didn’t reply at once, and Kaecilius took his eyes off the Aesir to look at her. Her eyes had fallen closed and she was smiling. “Forgive me,” she said. “It is a vanishingly rare treat to hear my native tongue, even if it is only by an illusion of spellwork. Thank you.” Kaecilius, who had only heard Danish when they spoke, was stunned yet again. 

“Allspeak brings with it considerable diplomatic advantages,” said Loki, inclining his head. Perhaps the Ancient One had been right to let them in. How much could they learn from each other?

“Come, we can have this discussion over tea,” she said.

“We would be honored,” said Loki, while Thor and the Valkyrie both grimaced.

Chapter Text

As the woman amusingly styled “the Ancient One” led them up the stairs and down a number of corridors, Loki kept looking around like his head was on a swivel, trying to take in every fascinating object there was to see inside the wizards’ abode. 

Every form of magic he had encountered had a feel and energy to it. It was informed partly by the character of the wielder, partly by their purpose in wielding it, and partly by its own inherent nature. He’d never met a fouler magic than what Ebony Maw used and which pervaded his abomination of a ship. Seidr, whether being used by Aesir, Vanir, Dvergar, Ljosalfar, or Jotnar, felt the same. It was what bound Yggdrasil together. It was life, it was joy, it was a glimpse of the most brilliant sunrise, the taste of the finest wine, the purest notes of song resonating in the bones. Even those who never learned how to use it for spellwork still put it instinctively into their crafts. There wasn’t a sword or a tankard or a helmet or a flagstone on Asgard that didn’t have some of the magic of its maker in it. 

Midgard didn’t lack for a sense of magic just because its inhabitants had no seidr in them, but it was mostly a gentle, wild something strongest in the places where nature hadn’t been overtaken by artifice. This building, however, sang an unfamiliar but enticing song from the floorboards to the ceiling. The native magic of Midgard was but a single instrument in the orchestra of the place, a single thread in the tapestry, and Loki was fascinated. He had to discover how these mortals had accessed this power. If it could be learned by those with no inborn seidr, what could a seidmadr like himself do with it?

The Ancient One brought them to a room whose decorations vaguely recalled those of the region of Vanaheim whence Hogun hailed. She invited them to sit cross-legged upon cushions laid out around a low table and personally poured them small cups of tea. The wizard who had let them in, Kaecilius, took a position near the door like a surly guard.

“Now then,” said the Ancient One after a sip from her cup. “Not quite a month ago, this relic, which has been kept safe by the Sorcerer Supreme since Agamotto himself, flared so bright that it illuminated Kamartaj and all three Sanctums.” She performed strange gestures with her hands in front of the large, eye-shaped amulet hanging over her chest. The metal bands in the amulet shifted, and an iris opened to reveal a brightly shining green stone. 

Thor jumped to his feet and took a step back, his hand on Mjolnir’s haft. Loki noticed that as he put that small amount of distance between himself and the stone, the light from it dimmed. “I could not discern the cause,” the Ancient One continued calmly. “But you have solved this mystery for me. Thor Odinson, your mind is not native to this time. How far in the future are you from, precisely? You asked for Stephen Strange, so it must be a few years at least.”

“Why do you need to know?” said Thor. “If you mean to send me back, you will have a fight,” His tone was quite enough to convey how strongly he meant the threat, but the thunder rumbling outside removed any remaining doubt.

The Ancient One looked no less serene in the face of a potentially hostile God of Thunder, but Loki’s gaze shifted to Kaecilius, who was again in his combat stance. He prepared to summon a number of daggers to his hand if the man moved even an inch closer to his brother.

“Please sit down,” said the Ancient One. “Kaecilius, I will have to insist that you leave if you cannot be a neutral observer.” Kaecilius only resumed his previous stance with great reluctance, but Thor didn’t move. “I am not going to send you back to your previous time,” she said. Thor frowned. “I do, however, have concerns.” She gestured to the cushion Thor had vacated. Thor glanced at Loki, who nodded from behind his teacup, and he slowly sat back down. 

“I suppose that’s how he knew where my flat was,” Brunnhilde muttered. “And why he’s so weird,” she added.

“He comes by the latter naturally,” said Loki automatically. Thor, alas, did not react. He’d become so much harder to rile up.

“How did you manage to use the Time Stone in this way?” said the Ancient One, ignoring them. “As far as I can tell from the writings of my predecessors and my own study of it, it is unprecedented.”

“It wasn’t deliberate,” said Thor.

“Describe your experience anyway, if you please, with as much detail as you can, including the moments prior to using it. That may be essential. I have my theories, but they may be totally wrong.” 

Thor’s brow furrowed. He did not leap about with Mjolnir for this particular recounting. “The battlefield was chaos when I arrived. The Avengers and their allies were being overwhelmed. I helped to turn the tide. Then thunder rumbled not by my hand, and I knew Thanos had joined the battle at last, but I didn’t know where. There was a massive explosion of yellow light in the forest at the opposite end of the battle. It was the color of the Mind Stone, and I took heart. My mortal friends must have found a way to destroy it, so Thanos’s designs were thwarted. Still, I fought my way nearer with the wrath of a berserker. I wanted to be the one to claim his life after…” He faltered with a glance at Loki. Loki put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. Thor swallowed and continued. “Then the yellow explosion happened again, but in reverse, and there was an incredible surge of power.”

“He undid it,” said the Ancient One with a quiet satisfaction, as if she now understood something that had puzzled her for some time. 

“All he succeeded in doing was pointing me to his exact location,” Thor growled. “I threw my axe. Even with all six Stones, he could not deflect it. It struck his shoulder, incapacitating the arm wearing the Gauntlet. I reached him and finished the job, removing first the arm and then the head. 

“My enemy was dead, but I had already lost nearly all I held dear. The Time Stone caught my eye. I don’t know what possessed me to pick it up. It showed me all the futures I might have. Even the better ones felt hollow. The Stone burned to hold, but I clung fast. I turned my thoughts to the past and the many errors I had made. The burning became all-consuming, and then I was simply back on Asgard, at just the right moment to change it all. That is what I have sought to do ever since.”

X

Thor’s words reached Kaecilius as though from the opposite end of a long tunnel. The Valkyrie began to laugh then. She let out long, helpless peals of mirth, but Kaecilius didn’t think anything had ever been less funny. Fifteen years he’d studied under the Ancient One, and she’d never seen fit to tell him that she possessed a relic capable of sending the wielder back into the past? The faces of his wife and son appeared in his mind’s eye as they often did, though they looked accusing now. 

Why had the Ancient One kept this from him? Why had she told him again and again that he must accept that they were gone? Was she too cowardly to allow this power to be used? Did she not trust him? Was he of greater use to her as a broken, childless widower than as a happy husband and father? His grief threatened to turn into rage, but he allowed none of it to show on his face. All those hours of meditation made it easy. He may yet get answers. If not today, then soon. He would learn everything he possibly could about the Time Stone, and it would not be her decision whether he used it to save his family. 

He felt the Ancient One’s eyes on him and would not meet them.

X

“Brunnhilde, are you well?” said Loki.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” she said, voice still choked with laughter. “I only spent the first five hundred years or so after Niflheim wishing I could go back and change what happened.”

“Is there a reason she can’t?” said Thor. “I don’t see why I am more deserving of a second chance than any other, and she might right wrongs I have no hope of repairing.”

“I don’t doubt it,” said the Ancient One. “But it is not so simple as having noble intentions.” She held her hand over the large amulet she wore (which Thor was almost certain was the very same he had seen around Stephen Strange’s neck), and the Time Stone floated free of its casing. “Look closely.”

He leaned a little nearer, and the glow around the stone brightened. But that wasn’t all. “Is that a crack?” said Loki. “In an Infinity Stone?” He smacked Thor up the back of his head. “You oaf! You broke an Infinity Stone?!”

“He played a part in that,” said the Ancient One, talking over Thor’s indignant noise of protest, “but I do not believe it was his doing alone.” The brilliant green gem continued to revolve slowly above her outstretched hand. “I have studied and protected the Time Stone for many centuries. It is best used for peering forward and backward in time to discern causality and possible courses of action. It is capable of more, but to actually interfere with the material flow of time is unwise. Careful parameters should be set, and even then there are far more ways for it to go wrong than right. Add more Infinity Stones to the equation and the volatility increases by an order of magnitude. By using the Time Stone to undo the destruction of the Mind Stone, Thanos may have inadvertently created a link between them. A link that Thor unwittingly exploited.”

“Then that’s how he came back the way he did,” said Loki. 

“Only his mind, yes. And by doing so, he carried the strain on the Time Stone into this timeline as well. He hasn’t merely come back in time, you see, or there would be two of him, and escorting him back to his native time would in fact be the prudent course. Instead, he has decoupled his consciousness from linear time altogether.”

“What?” said Thor. He wasn’t following this as well as Loki seemed to be, but that definitely didn’t sound good. “What does that mean?”

The corners of her mouth turned down in a blithe sort of way. “On its own, nothing too serious. Most beings are so accustomed to traveling through time at a rate of one second per second that we would do it instinctively even were we able to do otherwise. If you have not already experienced episodes of temporal dissociation, I would not expect you to start having them. The real problem is that you and the Time Stone are clearly still bonded, or it would not react to your proximity as it does.”

“Bonded?” said Loki. 

“Yes,” she said. “Should Thor encounter any insurmountable setback in his quest to save what he loves, he would trigger another reset.”

“That’s a problem?” said Thor. He wasn’t exactly thrilled at the idea that he might end up doing everything for a third time, but it might take some of the pressure off to not make any mistakes.

“I would say so.” She finished the last of the tea in her cup, set it down, and began moving her hands in strange ways again. A golden thread materialized in the air above the table, along with an image of the Time Stone. The two images crossed, and the thread looped back on itself. “If it doesn’t stop at one,” she said, “why would it stop with a second?” The thread crossed the Time Stone and looped back on itself again. And again. And again, until it resembled a coiled spring. It took a few repetitions of the process before Thor realized that the thin, gleaming crack in the Time Stone’s image was growing. 

“If you achieve all you hope to and everyone you love lives out their full lifespan and dies a natural death, do you know how to stop it from resetting then?” The golden thread continued to coil round and round. “This is why manipulating time is such a delicate business that we generally discourage. You are on a trajectory to repeat this cycle endlessly, until—” The thread came around to make another loop, and the Time Stone shattered, severing the thread at each of the points where it connected. 

The image faded. Thor was horrified, but the Ancient One only smiled. “It is good you came here. I will need to consult Agamotto’s writings, but I believe I can help.” 

X

“Look, look! It’s Mr. Odinson on TV!”

“What, Peter?” May Parker pulled her headphones away from one ear and drew back from the window box planter she’d been watering.

“It’s really him!” Peter insisted, practically jumping up and down with excitement. “Look!”

She followed him over to the TV, which was playing the local news channel. There was a slightly blurry picture of a man who did indeed look like the one who’d helped reunite Peter with her and Ben at the Stark Expo before launching himself into the sky with a giant hammer. She’d almost convinced herself it had been some kind of trick that they all fell for because of the stress of the evening, but there he was. It was impossible to mistake him for anyone else, and next to his photo were two more, of a man and a woman in clothing just as weird. She grabbed the remote off Ben’s armchair and turned it up.

“—Multiple visitors to the little park in the Bronx claimed they saw the same thing, and we’ve had other reports flooding in from the surrounding area about the pillar of light that touched down, and, as we see in these videos, vanished seconds later, leaving an unknown woman in strange leather armor standing on the ground. Who this woman and the two men who were there to greet her are, we don’t yet know. Many of these recordings are already going viral online, and theories include everything from a complete hoax to creative advertising for a new theatre show to Russian spies to aliens.” The anchor turned to his co-host and added, “I think my favorite is the creative advertising one, Jan. How about you?”

“I’m gonna have to go with aliens, Larry,” said Jan. “I’d love to know what kind of aliens wear outfits like that.” She turned to the camera. “If any of our viewers can help us get to the bottom of this strange story, call us at 347-555-3960. We’ll be right back after the break with more.”

May looked at Peter and found that he was holding the handset and furiously punching in numbers. “You’re calling in?” she asked, amused. This might just be the most inventive method he’d ever come up with for stalling on helping her with the chores.

“Yeah!” he said with enthusiasm. “What if we’re the only ones who know his name and that he was helping Iron Man fight those drones?”

“Good point,” she conceded. “We’ll have to make sure this place looks its best if the news people want to come interview you about it, though.”

His eyes went round and he nodded.

Chapter Text

The Ancient One made a careful circular motion in the air before her. This caused a pinwheel of amber sparks to form, which widened into a hole roughly the size of a dinner platter, through which a library was visible. A portal?! Loki’s mouth fell open, but neither Brunnhilde nor Thor looked surprised. Thor must’ve seen the wizard he spoke of doing something similar, and Brunnhilde had lived on a planet where portals were as commonplace as clouds in the sky for most of a millennium. 

Loki shot a brief glance at Kaecilius by the door. The man looked irritable but not impressed. Loki felt rather indignant. He had spent decades and decades discovering all the secret pathways across Yggdrasil, yet mortals were just making portals like this whenever they felt like it? The Ancient One reached through it and pulled out a heavy tome, and the portal vanished again at a dismissive gesture from her. She poured herself another cup of tea and began flicking through the pages while she sipped it.

It was going to be extremely difficult not to ask any questions until after she’d finished helping Thor, but Loki would be as observant and patient as he could. It wouldn’t do to burn up her goodwill by pestering her, and he fully expected that the process of discovering how to break the bond between Thor and the Time Stone would take hours—if not days—of research, let alone the time it would take for planning and execution. 

“Ah, yes,” she said, snapping the book shut again. “This shouldn’t be too complicated.” Loki blinked. “Hold out your hand, if you please. The same one you held the Time Stone in.”

Thor stretched out his right hand underneath the hovering Stone. It brightened enough that Loki squinted. The Ancient one did more complicated gestures, and a thin ribbon of green sigils appeared, wrapping around Thor’s wrist and the Stone in the shape of a rounded hourglass. It had no beginning or end, and the sigils rippled along in a slow revolution. 

“The bond,” said Brunnhilde.

“Indeed,” said the Ancient One. She held her left hand level with the Time Stone, her right level with Thor’s outstretched palm, then made slow, careful twisting motions in opposite directions. The spot where the two bulbs of the hourglass shape intersected began to look strained, and with a sound like shattering crystal, it broke into two separate circles, which sealed off seemingly automatically, then continued to revolve on their own. The light of the Time Stone dimmed a little. “Now draw back,” she said. Thor did so, and the glowing sigils around his hand faded, while those around the Time Stone did not.

“Is that all?” said Thor.

“Yes,” said the Ancient One. Her smile was a little too wide to be characterized as serene. She knew exactly how maddening she was being, didn’t she? “I have separated your temporal displacement from its power source, so do not rely on getting additional chances if this one goes poorly for you. And drop by again if you do begin experiencing anything like repeated days, missing time, or the world speeding up or slowing down around you, though I still would not consider it likely at this point.”

“Forgive me, but in order to drop by again, we would have to leave first,” said Loki. “I had hoped to learn something of your way of doing magic before we go.”

“That will have to wait for another time,” said the Ancient One, getting to her feet. “You have more pressing matters to attend to at present, I believe.”

“Wh—” Loki began, but Thor clapped a hand over his arm. He looked around to glare at him and saw that Thor’s eyes had gone golden once more. Heimdall was being awfully communicative today. It only lasted a few seconds.

“She’s right,” he said once his eyes were back to normal, and he stood up too. Brunnhilde copied him and so did Loki, though reluctantly. “We weren’t very subtle when we went to meet Brunnhilde. Heimdall says accounts of it are spreading and will likely be all over Midgard within hours. We shouldn’t leave SHIELD wondering where we are with all that going on.” 

Loki suppressed a groan of frustration. He saw Brunnhilde smirking at him and shot her a scowl, though not one with any heat to it. 

“I don’t suppose you could make one of those portals for us?” Thor asked the Ancient One. “Loki and I can fly, but I’d have to carry Brunnhilde or something to get back to the Triskelion.”

“Yeah that’s not happening,” Brunnhilde snorted.

“Certainly,” said the Ancient One. She made the same circular gesture as before. Loki still couldn’t work out what she was doing. He sensed a pull of power now that he was ready for it, and thought it might have something to do with the large ring she wore, but that was as much as he could get in those few seconds. 

Thor and Brunnhilde stepped through onto the grass of some forested park that presumably wasn’t far from SHIELD’s headquarters, but Loki turned to face the Ancient One. “I hope to return soon, if I am welcome. There is clearly much I could learn here.”

She smiled again and bowed slightly from the waist. 

He copied her and followed Thor and Brunnhilde through the portal. 

X

The first stop Bruce had Agent Coulson make was to Pawn Brothers. In order to get the golden locket back, he’d planned on offering the silver knotwork belt he’d been given on Asgard (part of the clothing designed to accommodate his transformations), but Coulson made that unnecessary. On balance, it was probably better to spend a little of SHIELD’s cash than to leave a magical alien accessory on Earth. Also he hadn’t tried to take off any of the Asgardian clothing while it was disguised as Earth clothing and, for all he knew, it would unravel Loki’s illusion if he did so. 

After that, it was about a half-hour drive to reach Culver. Parts of campus were still roped off, with construction and landscaping crews busy repairing the damage from the skirmish between the Hulk and General Ross’s soldiers. The bridge that connected Biological Sciences to Biotech was covered in scaffolding and couldn’t be used, but both buildings were still accessible individually. 

Bruce tried not to make eye contact with the guard he’d bought off with pizza the last time he was here while Coulson flashed his SHIELD ID to get them in, and they made their way to the fourth floor. The only people they passed were a few frazzled grad students in lab coats.

“Is it SHIELD protocol that you have to come with me for this part?” said Bruce. 

Coulson glanced at the name plate of the office door. He didn’t look surprised by what was on it. “No,” he said. “I’ll wait out here.”

“Thanks,” said Bruce. He was still wary of anyone employed by the government that had pursued him for five years, but Coulson seemed less objectionable than most. 

Fingers of one hand curled around the locket, he raised the other hand to knock on the office door.

“Come in!” 

He turned the handle and stepped inside. “Hi, Betty.”

She looked up from a microscope and gaped at him. “Bruce.” It took another second or so for her to recover from her shock, and then she was running at him. He moved closer so that they met a few steps from the door, and she hugged him as tight as she had that night in the rain. “I wasn’t sure if all those hearings meant you got away or if it was being covered up and you were locked in a reinforced cell somewhere.” She pulled back to look at him, her fingers trailing over the sides of his face like she was checking for signs that he’d just been through a harrowing escape.

“I got away,” he said. 

She wasn’t so easily reassured, however. “You weren’t followed?” She went to the door and looked out. 

“Ma’am,” came Coulson’s respectful voice from out in the hallway. Betty jerked back inside and stared at Bruce.

He felt a little sheepish. “It’s a long story.”

X

Coulson didn’t mind waiting outside Dr. Ross’s office. It gave him time to plan what he would say when he showed Steve Rogers his vintage card collection. He’d caught him off-guard the first time and it got pretty awkward, but Coulson could salvage it. He had to. 

His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he pulled it out and flipped it open. “Coulson.”

“We have a problem.” It was the Deputy Director. “It’s Thor and Loki.”

“What happened?”

“They went to New York and pulled their interplanetary light show in the middle of a park. There were civilians nearby, and it’s all over the internet now.”

Coulson allowed himself a brief sigh. “We were only going to be able to keep a lid on this for so long.”

“Maybe a little longer if you hadn’t gone to Virginia.”

“Fury left it to my discretion how tight to keep the leash. How are the optics?”

“Could be a lot worse. It’s not footage of property damage or a battle near civilians like at the Expo and Harlem last month. Looks like they just went to meet a friend of theirs. A woman in leather armor.”

“Good,” said Coulson, thinking fast. “I think this could be a positive. In a lot of ways.”

“Smokescreen for the other project?” Meaning Hydra, about which Coulson had been briefed that morning.

“Exactly.”

“Well then it can’t look like our work.”

“That shouldn’t be a problem. I just need to give Stark a call.”

X

The portal closed behind them once Loki was through. Thor looked around. He could hear a river rushing nearby, and he spotted the upper floors of the Triskelion through a break in the trees in that direction. He started towards it. Loki and Brunnhilde stayed level with him this time, and he noticed the faraway look in the latter’s eyes.

“I truly am sorry that you won’t be able to use the Time Stone to go back like I did,” he said quietly. He thought about what it might mean if she did go back, and tried to imagine growing up in an Asgard with the Valkyrior still flying through the skies in force. An Asgard with three princes instead of two, perhaps. “I’m sure there are many who would jump at the opportunity.”

“It’s fine,” said Brunnhilde. “It sounds like what you did was a one in a billion chance anyway. Even if I thought I could stop Hela and her supporters, I wouldn’t want to try it only to get caught somewhere in the middle and be stuck on Sakaar again.”

Loki reached for her hand. She let him take it and some of the bitterness in her expression softened. Her words, however, had given Thor an idea. “Hey, what if the wizards could solve our Hela problem?”

“What, you think they could do a better job than Odin of locking her up?” said Brunnhilde.

Thor shrugged. “If they’ve kept an Infinity Stone safe for thousands of years, why not?”

“It’s an option to consider,” said Loki. 

“Did you have a better idea?” said Thor.

“Possibly.” He said it in a mysterious and tantalizing tone. Thor rolled his eyes. He wasn’t going to satisfy him by asking right away, but if Loki thought there was an option besides imprisonment or death for Hela, then he might need a closer look at some of Thor’s memories.

X

“I can’t believe you’ve been to three different planets since the last time I saw you,” said Betty, half-laughing. They’d migrated over to the lumpy old sofa behind her desk, fingers loosely twined together on top of the middle cushion, and her mother’s locket was back around her neck where it belonged. Bruce had told her pretty much everything that had happened since New York. “For me it’s mostly gone back to a normal semester, except that now I watch a lot more C-SPAN and more journalists have shown up to ask about my dad than ever wanted to know about my work.”

Bruce smiled and gave her hand a squeeze. “Any chance you’d be interested in an off-world vacation?”

“You mean come to Asgard with you? I could just do that?”

“You wouldn’t be the only one there from Culver. Dr. Foster, Dr. Selvig, and their intern have been there as long as I have. You could bring your work—or maybe branch out into xenobiology.”

Her eyes were round and bright with the possibilities, but she bit her lip. 

“You don’t have to decide right now. I’ll get in touch again before we head back. Even if you stay here, you don’t have to worry about me like you did for the last five years.”

“You’re going to stay there until you can figure out a cure?”

“A cure, a way to stabilize it...whatever it takes.” He laughed. “Even if I end up disappointing all the Asgardian warriors who want to spar with me.”

She smiled at him with so much affection that it made his chest ache. “You haven’t been this relaxed since before the accident.” 

“I guess not.”

There was a knock on the door, and Coulson poked his head in. “Dr. Banner, we should be getting back to the Triskelion.”

“Okay, I’ll be out in a minute,” said Bruce. Coulson nodded and closed the door again. 

Bruce turned back to Betty. She scooted onto the middle cushion and pulled him close for a kiss. He returned it eagerly, but couldn’t silence the nagging voice at the back of his mind that wondered if this was a goodbye kiss. She drew back first without moving away. “I want to go with you, but it might take some time to get everything sorted out. There’s just a month left in the semester, and I can probably get approval for a research sabbatical.” 

“Are you sure?” He didn’t want her feeling like she was in any way obligated. 

Her expression turned fierce. “I was there with you when this all started, and I want to be there to help you fix it.”

He beamed as wide as Thor and kissed her again before getting up off the couch. Their hands stayed connected until they couldn’t reach anymore. “See you soon,” he said.

Her hand went to her locket, but her eyes stayed on him. “You better.”

X

An unexpected call from Agent Coulson cut the search for Sergeant Barnes short. JARVIS would have to carry on with that on his own for now. Tony let Rogers and Romanoff get almost to the end of his drive on their motorcycles before blasting past them in his suit. He turned to wave at them (JARVIS obligingly capturing a shot of Rogers’s stunned expression, which he would treasure) and then set course for the Triskelion. 

The trip took less than five minutes, and he arrived in time to see Nick Fury standing about a third of the way out on the bridge leading to the main entrance, shouting at Thor, Loki, and the woman who’d shown up with them in all the viral YouTube videos popping up everywhere. JARVIS enhanced the audio so that Tony could hear them before he was fully in range.

“Brunnhilde is the last Valkyrie of Asgard,” Thor was saying. “She fought to defend this realm a thousand years ago, and she deserves your respect.”

“This isn’t about respect!” said Fury. “You let the cat out of the bag on public knowledge of aliens existing just to pick up your brother’s girlfriend?!”

“I’m sorry, was that something we were meant to avoid doing?” said Loki innocently. Tony snorted inside his helmet. 

“I suppose this is what I get for allying with the God of Mischief, huh?” said Fury.

“As much as I would like to take the credit, Director,” said Loki, “I happen to be entirely blameless in this situation.”

“Nobody told us you didn’t want more Asgardians on Earth,” said Thor, who plainly found this less hilarious than Loki did. Tony was suddenly very glad that he’d chosen an entirely harmless prank to pull on Loki the previous day, if Big Bro was this protective of him.

By now, the suit must be audible from where they were, because Brunnhilde looked around at him. She was a knockout, but he got the distinct impression that could be very literal, so it was a good thing he was spoken for. He touched down a few yards away from them on the bridge and opened his helmet. “Hey. Heard you needed a PR guy.”

“Hah!” said Fury. “What, are you gonna set up the same kind of press conference you gave when you introduced the world to Iron Man?”

“Pretty much,” said Tony. “Did you have a better idea?”

Chapter Text

How did you introduce aliens to a planet that mostly thought of the concept in connection to invasion and abduction narratives? It had to be instantly obvious that there wasn’t a threat. And that assessment couldn’t start at the government level—or appear to, at least. It shouldn’t be left entirely to the press either, because they’d probably either sensationalize it and start a panic or dismiss it as a hoax. Plenty of regular people should get a chance to witness it in person, somewhere familiar to them. Especially the handful of civilians who were already witnesses. A positive reaction needed to go from the bottom up; let the President and the U.N. and whoever else official ask for a meeting with the princes of Asgard after the people already liked them. 

And to reach that point, it had to be fun.

Tony had his whole plan figured out within minutes, which gave him the rest of the afternoon to execute it. He started by making calls to Happy, Rhodey, the New York City Event Coordination and Management Office, the Steinbrenners, and Angus Young. He let JARVIS take care of contacting the uploaders of the YouTube videos and the people who had called in with witness accounts to news shows covering the Kingsbridge Park story, as well as arranging for complementary concessions for everyone who showed up. 

Next, he bought up advertising space on NYC buildings and sent an open invitation through all the local news stations. It was the best marketing he could do in the window of a few hours, no matter how much money he threw at it, but between the involvement of Iron Man, strong hints of a satisfying explanation for the viral videos, and the promise of free food, he felt confident plenty of people would show. 

He had just left the Virginia house again to fly to the venue when Pepper’s face appeared in the corner of his HUD. “Answer call,” he said, and the icon opened into a live feed. “Hello, dear.”

She gave an almost imperceptible eye roll while also betraying a little bit of a smile, which made it difficult for Tony not to grin. “Hello,” she said. “Happy says you’ve got him scheduling a big press conference in New York City. What’s this about?”

Tony didn’t know whether he was pleased or disappointed that she hadn’t phrased her question “What’d you do?” He should probably err on the side of pleased; not stressing her out was a good thing. “Thor and Loki made an obvious enough public display of space Viking magic that it’s time to make it official to the rest of the Earthlings that they come in peace,” he said. “For some reason Agent Coulson thought I was the right person to deal with that.”

“He must like you better now that he’s seen you as a flying squirrel.”

“I made a very likable flying squirrel.”

Pepper smiled. “You were adorable. Those little paws.”

“So are you gonna come out east? I can get you a front row seat.”

“I might be able to squeeze it into my schedule.”

X

Brunnhilde leaned on the bar that divided the diamond-shaped field from the lowered area where she and the sons of Odin waited. She liked the music that was playing. It matched the industrialization that made Midgard so different from what it had looked like during the Aesir-Jotnar war. Lots of strong beats and electricity. “What sort of place is this? Some kind of battle arena? It’s very clean.”

“It’s not for battle, it’s for sport,” said Thor. 

Brunnhilde exchanged a confused look with Loki.

“Those are generally two different things on Midgard,” Thor elaborated. “You know, games that don’t involve combat.”

“I understand people playing them,” said Loki, “but enough people enjoy watching them to fill all these seats?” There were certainly people filing into what they could see of the stands from here, and a man in another of those flying suits kept hauling in battered-looking vehicles and setting them on the grass. Closer to where they were was a raised platform with a podium and a few rows of chairs, all currently unoccupied.

Thor shrugged. “This is the first time I’ve been to a place like this.” He pointed Mjolnir at the field like he was measuring the space in his mind. “We should have enough room, though.”

X

Steve pulled the Brooklyn Dodgers cap Romanoff had somehow procured for him a little lower over his forehead. Just because Thor and Loki were making their public debut didn’t mean he was ready to be back in the spotlight. “I can’t believe he picked Yankee Stadium,” he grumbled, moving slowly up the stairs amid the throng of 21st-century New Yorkers. 

“I can,” said Romanoff. “There’s an atmosphere to baseball stadiums that’s wholesome and American in a way that I’m not sure anything else is. Plus there’s plenty of space and it’s not far from Kingsbridge. Don’t tell Stark I said it, but I couldn’t have picked a better location myself.”

“No, I get why a baseball stadium, but the Yankees?” It wasn’t like Ebbets Field was an option anymore, though. Finding out that his favorite team had moved to the opposite end of the country more than fifty years ago really smarted, and the fact that the Yankees had stuck around kinda made it worse. Thankfully only one of the players Steve had followed had been involved when they moved to L.A. If more of ‘em had, he wouldn’t be wearing the cap. 

It took them a few more minutes to reach their seats. Tony had told them he wanted a couple of people in the know sitting with the people who’d been spreading the footage of Thor and Loki on the internet (however that worked). They slid along a row in the section closest to home plate until they came to two empty seats next to a family of three. The trio, a forty-something couple and a boy who couldn’t be much older than nine or ten, were wearing blue and orange caps that said Mets on them, a team name Steve didn’t recognize. The boy had an Iron Man mask pulled up over his. He was also clutching what looked like Thor’s hammer, made out of a paper towel roll and a tissue box covered in tin foil. It was the kind of thing Steve and Bucky made all the time as kids, and it made him smile. 

The woman and the boy were watching what was happening on the field, but the man looked around at Steve and Romanoff as they took the seats next to them, and his eyes immediately found Steve’s cap. “Brooklyn Dodgers, huh?” he said. “Get that hat from your grandpa or something?”

“What else was I gonna wear to Yankee Stadium?” said Steve.

The man grinned and stuck out his hand. “Ben Parker.”

Steve shook it. “Steve Rogers,” he said without thinking. He heard Romanoff groan from his left. Ben Parker wasn’t paying attention to the cap anymore but to Steve’s face, and his expression held the same childish glee as Agent Coulson’s when he first met him. To Steve’s relief, it mellowed quickly. 

“So...not your grandpa’s cap.”

“Not mine either,” said Steve. It didn’t seem like Ben was gonna start shouting that Captain America was sitting next to him, so he relaxed a little. “I can’t believe they moved to L.A. That’s some of the worst news I’ve heard since I woke up.”

“When was that?”

“A few days ago.”

Ben let out a whistle. “That’s rough. Well, us Mets fans would be happy to have you, if you don’t mind a team from Queens.”

The enormous screen at the far end of the stadium lit up and began playing images of Thor flying with his hammer, a large bird turning into Loki, and a woman in armor appearing out of a beam of multicolored light. It didn’t take the crowd long to notice, and the noise level started rising.

“So, uh, did you send in one of those videos?” said Steve.

“No,” said Ben. “We met the big blond guy in person at the Stark Expo last month. My wife and I got separated from our nephew in the chaos when those drones attacked, and he helped us find each other. Then he spun his big hammer and flew off into the sky! We could barely believe it. So when the videos played on the news, Peter wanted to call in. Couple hours later we got personal invitations here from someone who works for Tony Stark.” He shook his head, grinning. “Crazy, right?”

“You could say that,” said Steve. He looked around at Romanoff, who raised a chastising eyebrow. Steve couldn’t feel guilty, though. Chatting with a fellow New Yorker was the most normal thing he’d done in 2011.

X

Reporters and photographers swarmed Tony and Pepper as soon as they got out of the car by one of the stadium’s private entrances. She slipped her arm around his and they waded through. They weren’t dressed black tie or anything, but the cameras still flashed like strobe lights. 

“Mr. Stark, do you have answers for us about this morning’s footage from Kingsbridge Park?”

“Mr. Stark, a caller from Queens said you personally knew the people we saw in the footage, and that one of them was fighting alongside you and Colonel Rhodes at the Stark Expo. Can you confirm that?”

“The unsubstantiated accounts of pillars of light in New Mexico, Missouri, and D.C. seem more believable in the wake of what happened in Kingsbridge. Is Stark Industries responsible for these displays?”

“Mr. Stark, did you come to the East Coast because you and Miss Potts were going through a rough patch?”

“Warm, warmer, ice cold, don’t quit your day job,” said Tony, pointing at each of the reporters in sequence, while Pepper gave the last one a bewildered and offended look. “Follow us, guys. This should be a lot of fun.”

They kept up the barrage of questions, but Tony wasn’t going to give them any more hints. He was about to give them the biggest story of their careers; they could deal with a little suspense in the meantime. 

X

When Stark and his lady arrived on the field, they were surrounded by people carrying notepads and cameras, just as he had said. Thor glanced at Loki and Brunnhilde. He’d never exactly done a press conference before. In the original timeline, word of the events in New Mexico, New York, and London just seemed to get around. By the time he had a chance to be on Earth in moments of peace, he was already widely known and beloved by the humans. 

Thor wasn’t worried, though. God of Mischief or not, Loki was excellent at diplomacy when he wanted to be and Brunnhilde was still in remarkably good spirits despite not having drunk any for at least a few hours. He chuckled to himself at the joke but decided not to jeopardize her good mood or his lack of bruises by voicing it. 

The press people began filling up the seats on the raised platform, Stark tapped his ear and gestured at someone they couldn’t see up in the stands, and Lady Pepper made her way over to where the Asgardians waited. 

“Lady Pepper!” said Thor, inclining his head to her. “We didn’t know you were coming.”

“Tony convinced me,” she said, smiling. 

“You won’t regret it,” said Loki. He held his arm out to Brunnhilde. “May I introduce Brunnhilde Sigursdottir.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” said Pepper. “Pepper Potts.”

“I’m not that nice to meet,” said Brunnhilde, “but thanks.”

Pepper laughed and handed them each an earpiece. “Use these to communicate with Tony if you need to once you’re off the stage. He’ll be your go-between for playing off the crowd.”

They put the earpieces in, and Thor looked over at Stark. He gave a thumbs up to the person in the stands, and suddenly his voice boomed over the stadium, much louder than the music. “Good evening, New York City!” At the same time, the image on the huge screen behind the field showed him standing at the podium. The crowd cheered, and Thor could hear disorganized chants of “Iron Man! Iron Man!” 

“I decided to borrow Yankee Stadium tonight for something special. It could get messy, but don’t worry; I promised Hank and Hal I’d have it good as new in time for the first home game next week.” Some laughed at that and there was more cheering. “I’ll be your MC for the evening. I hope you’re enjoying the catering. I didn’t give these guys much time to pull it all together, so make sure to thank them if you get the chance. You might’ve noticed my good buddy Colonel Rhodes flying in a few props over the last hour or so. We’ll get to those soon enough. We have some pretty out-of-this-world guests here today, and I don’t want to steal their thunder.”

Thor let out a hearty laugh while Loki groaned. 

“Okay that’s your cue,” said Pepper. Thor, Loki, and Brunnhilde followed her out onto the field to the platform. 

“You three are the ones from the videos!” said one of the reporters before they had even climbed the short set of stairs to join Stark behind the podium.

“Indeed we are, good man!” said Thor, pleased that they had realized so quickly. 

“What’s this about?” said another. “Some Stark Industries stunt? Is that why Ms. Potts is here?”

“What was that pillar of light? Is it the same thing that’s been reported across the country since last month?”

“A caller to WCBS earlier today said you were at the Stark Expo fighting the rogue Hammer Industries drones. How do you respond?” 

It quickly became difficult to hear individual voices amid the din, which the crowd was also contributing to. Stark intervened. “Hey, hey, one by one, guys, and maybe wait for them to answer before firing off the next? We’ve got plenty of time to get around to everyone.” He turned to the Asgardians. “Make sure you talk into the mic, okay?” He slapped Thor on the shoulder and stepped aside. 

Thor moved up and bent slightly so that the microphone was closer to his mouth. “Hello.” He gave a wave. “Probably the most important thing to know, in case it doesn’t come up in your questions, is that we’re not from Earth.”

After a few seconds of stunned silence, the crowd erupted into a mixture of skeptical laughter and jeering. That was alright; it wouldn’t last. Eventually one of the reporters found his voice. “You’re saying you’re from another planet.”

“Yes,” said Thor.

Loki edged in closer. “Technically it’s an artificial planetoid.” 

“And we’re supposed to take your word for it?” said another reporter. “You’re dressed like you came here from a Renaissance festival, and you’re speaking English.”

“You’re hearing English,” said Thor. “We’re not speaking it.” 

“Ask anyone here with a different mother tongue, and I think you’ll find they aren’t hearing the same words you are,” said Loki. 

Brunnhilde made the most of her shorter stature to get between them and reach the microphone. “Also, if you’ve never met someone from another planet before, how could you expect to know how we’d look?” 

“Well, not like humans,” said the same reporter. The jeering kept going in some parts of the crowd, but there was also a lot more whispering.

“That’s ridiculous,” Brunnhilde snorted. “You’re the ones who look like us.”

“Some of us,” said Loki. “Perhaps I can provide a more satisfactory example of a being not of this world.”

“Are you sure, Brother?” said Thor, standing up straight so it wouldn’t come through on the microphone and reaching out to grab Loki’s arm. He could hardly believe Loki would want to put his true form on display for mortals, and just to win this rather stupid argument. They’d come to Earth partly because of how some of their own subjects were handling the knowledge of Loki’s species, after all.

“I didn’t get to decide how it got out on Asgard,” said Loki. “This is my choice.” Thor looked for any sign of doubt but found none. He nodded and let go of his arm. 

Loki closed his eyes. Blue spread swiftly over his skin, leaving the grooves of his ancestral lines in its wake. Several of the reporters and many in the crowd gasped. His eyes were ruby red when he opened them again. He pointed to one of the nearest reporters, who scooted farther back in her seat. “Would you be so kind as to toss me that bottle of water?” 

She stared at him, glanced nervously at the people on either side of her, then picked up the item in question from where it sat by the leg of her chair and threw it clumsily in Loki’s direction. He caught it in his left hand, and the water froze solid so quickly that it burst free of the plastic. He then flipped it lightly into the air. At the top of its arc, the chunk of ice transformed into a plume of glittering snowflakes, like a miniature blizzard. He grinned as they drifted down in the space between the podium and the press. “Still think I’m human?”

“It could just be some kind of fancy new Stark tech!” said the first reporter in a more quavery voice. 

“I actually didn’t know he could do any of that,” said Stark. He turned to Loki. “You’ve been holding out on me?”

“I told you other matters had arisen,” said Loki. “Such as discovering I was adopted.”

“From who, Jack Frost?”

Thor leaned over to the mic. “Next question?”

Chapter Text

Happy Hogan had arrived at Yankee Stadium like a whirlwind. The security team and the NYPD were very wrong if they thought this thing was locked down tight enough. Tony Stark and the CEO of Stark Industries were going to be out in the open, and that wasn’t happening without a dozen extra plainclothes officers sitting in the stands, a counter-sniper on the roof, and extra eyes on all the camera feeds. It still didn’t seem like enough. It did help that Romanoff would be in the crowd and Colonel Rhodes would be there in the War Machine suit. He also had the repaired and upgraded briefcase suit in case Tony changed his mind. 

He spent the last hour before Tony and Pepper showed up reviewing chain of command and radio channels with everyone. The stadium’s head of security would be answering to him, and only he would have access to Tony over the comms. To finish up his preparations, he buzzed in with each individual security officer to triple-check that they were in position and their walkies were working. Everything was gonna go perfect.

X

“A couple kids squabbling over seats on the fourth level, but nothing else to report,” said the soldier into a walkie talkie. 

“Check,” said the security head. 

The soldier screwed the suppressor onto the muzzle of the rifle and looked over his shoulder at the field. He’d thrown War Machine a salute when he got to the counter-sniper’s post on the edge of the awning over the highest section of stands behind home plate, and he hadn’t flown his way since. 

The stolen second walkie-talkie crackled. “Rooftop, sound off.”

“All clear up here,” said the soldier, injecting more of a New York accent into it and changing his pitch somewhat. 

“Check,” said the security head again. The soldier snapped the magazine in place.

So far, the mission was going as planned. He’d gotten in with his fake stadium security uniform and ID, and the SWAT counter-sniper was hanging in a utility closet near the soldier’s assigned post on the fourth level without his windbreaker and cap. All there was left to do now was wait for the mark to get up on that stage. 

There was something about this place, though. They’d never sent him to a baseball field before, but so much about it still felt familiar. He could see the whole thing from his perch in the shadows behind the floodlights. He knew the English names of all the positions, he knew the rules of the game, he knew the kinds of food they sold at the concessions stands. He could picture himself swinging a wooden bat, and he could feel the vibration in his hands and the thrill in his stomach when the ball cracked off it. 

He flexed the metal fingers of his left hand. He existed for the mission, and he never failed. He never thought about his childhood. It wasn’t worth thinking about and it wasn’t relevant. It definitely hadn’t included playing an American sport. 

He kept an eye on the War Machine flying in and out of the stadium as he continued to set up his equipment. What he was here to do would only take a fraction of a second, and then he would swap the SWAT disguise for a civilian one and disappear back into the crowd of people as they erupted into panic. But getting to that second would be risky. The War Machine might register that his weapon wasn’t one used by SWAT, even if Colonel Rhodes couldn’t see it unassisted. The soldier had to keep the VSS mostly hidden until it was time to take the shot. 

Finally, the mark arrived on the field, surrounded by reporters and film crew. This would have been easier to do in a less public location, but his mission was very specific. It wasn’t just about eliminating the mark; it was about creating chaos in the American public at a critical moment to prevent them from trusting an extraterrestrial power. 

The War Machine still had a possible line of sight on his position, so he waited. The mark invited the three Asgardians onto the stage. The soldier hadn’t received much information on them, but his instructions were to not engage them at any cost. 

Then they started talking, and the soldier lost all concentration. Somehow, the voices booming over the stadium’s speaker system were simultaneously speaking Russian and English. Preparations forgotten, he listened, bewildered, wincing at an unpleasant pressure building in his temples. 

“You’re dressed like you came here from a Renaissance festival, and you’re speaking English,” said a reporter. 

“You’re hearing English,” said Thor, and again the soldier heard both languages at once. “We’re not speaking it.” 

“Ask anyone here with a different mother tongue,” said Loki, “and I think you’ll find they aren’t hearing the same words you are.” 

That made no sense. The soldier’s mother tongue was Russian. Was he hearing English because he also spoke it? Why not Bulgarian and German too, then? Why only English?

It didn’t matter. The Asgardians weren’t the mission. He had to ignore them. 

X

Rhodey knew Pepper was good for Tony, but damn. If anyone had asked him a month and a half ago whether Tony was the right person to organize First Contact (at least for the public), he’d have sent them in for a psych eval. He would’ve expected the evening to be a disaster in which Tony kept the spotlight on himself and eventually wrecked half the stadium with some ill-advised display. Instead, Tony was simply using his own clout to give the Asgardians a better starting position to win people over. Not bad. 

There were now several junkyard cars (arranged in the shape of a pyramid), a few I-beams, and a couple hundred feet of heavy chains laid out in center field, and that was probably enough toys for Thor, Loki, and Loki’s girlfriend to entertain the crowd with. He reduced the output on his repulsors and made a mostly quiet landing on the topmost car. “Need anything else, Tony?” he asked into their open channel once Tony ceded the podium to Thor.

“Maybe stick around in case they want you to race the big guy or something,” said Tony, looking around at him. 

“You don’t wanna do that yourself?”

“Can’t sell the concept of friendly aliens if I put a layer of armor between me and them.”

“Yeah, yeah. You just don’t want to be the one Thor leaves in the dust.”

X

One of the most important skills that set a Valkyrie apart from the rest of Asgard’s warriors was her battle sense. The Einherjar focused all their seidr into enhancing their strength, but the Valkyrior found better use of it in honing their perception and reflexes. It was harder to master but well worth the effort. Whether on foot or in the air on horseback, a Valkyrie would always be the first on the battlefield to identify incoming threats, locate concealed enemies, and adjust her position to respond. 

Brunnhilde hadn’t made much use of her battle sense in about a thousand years—not since the only time it hadn’t done her or her sisters any good. Most days on Sakaar, she’d been too drunk to use it, though it wasn’t like there was much on Sakaar that was a match for a Valkyrie at the top of her game anyway. But she was sober now. While Thor and Loki argued about the wisdom of Loki showing off his Jotun form to the humans, Brunnhilde’s attention was caught by an odd sound amid all the noises of the crowd. A sort of hiss, then a thump. 

Time stretched out. She turned away from the podium, looking for the source of the noise. In the reddish earth behind the platform, there was a small plume of dust over a little raised mound, like the dirt there had just been disturbed by something striking it at a high speed. From the shape of the mound and the direction the dust was falling, Brunnhilde could picture the object’s trajectory in reverse. It had come from the top of the stadium and it had gone right past Stark’s head.

X

“черт возьми,” the soldier growled under his breath. The pressure in his head was reaching the point of pain. He’d never felt so thrown off, and it had cost him the shot at less than a hundred meters from the target. He was lucky all eyes were on Loki, who had just turned blue. He was using subsonic rounds with a suppressor, so what little noise it made was completely lost in the roar of the crowd, but still he couldn’t afford to miss again. Making the most of the moment when the Asgardians weren’t bombarding him with that double language effect, he got the mark back in his crosshairs and squeezed the trigger. In the third of a second it took for the bullet to travel from the rifle to its destination, something blurred into its path, blocking the soldier’s view of his mark through the scope.

He blinked. The bullet was clenched in the fist of the Asgardian woman. She was looking directly at him, and she was pulling something thin and sharp out of a fold in her leather armor with her other hand.

“Вот дерьмо!” He threw himself flat, left arm forward to cover his head. There was a chink and a burst of sparks. He stared at the small dagger buried between the metal plates. Across the stadium, War Machine was quickly drawing level with his position. Time to go.

X

Steve didn’t need any additional convincing to believe Thor and Loki weren’t from Earth, but watching one of them turn blue made that hit home a little harder. 

“Oh, wow!” shouted Ben Parker’s nephew, which was on the more positive end of the spectrum of reactions.

“Something’s wrong,” said Romanoff, grabbing Steve’s arm. “Look at Brunnhilde.” 

Startled, he tore his eyes from whatever ice magic thing Loki was doing just in time to see Brunnhilde’s left hand snap up to a spot a couple feet in front of Tony’s face and a foot or so higher. Then, at the same moment that a cloud of snowflakes billowed over the stage, making it difficult to see, she made a throwing motion with her other hand. Something silver shot through the air towards the top of the stadium. Steve cricked his neck following the movement, and he could just make out a dark shape diving out of sight under the row of floodlights above their section.

“Come on,” he said, leaping to his feet. Romanoff didn’t need telling twice. There was enough room between these rows that they didn’t have to trample anyone to get out of theirs, and they were sprinting up the aisle before the crowd could fully react to what Loki had done.

“Did you see that, Rhodes?” said Romanoff, one hand on her earpiece. 

Steve had forgotten about those. He tapped his left ear and caught most of the colonel’s reply: “—jumped off the awning onto the roof. I didn’t reach him before he made it back inside, but I’m locked on his heat signature for now. He’s on the fourth level, headed to the stairs on the southeast side of the building. White, about six foot, brown hair just past his chin. Dressed like SWAT. Something tore up his left sleeve, and it looks like he’s got a metal prosthetic arm under it. He left the rifle on the roof, but I wouldn’t count on that being his only weapon.”

Steve and Romanoff skidded into the corridor behind the stands, narrowly avoiding a guy with a crate of iced soda pop bottles strapped to his chest. “You head to the southeast stairs,” she said. “I’ll go this way and try to cut him off.” 

He heard her voice over the comms device as they separated. “Any accomplices?”

“None that I could find,” said Rhodes, “but I’ll do another sweep.”

“Do we need to call for an evacuation?” said Steve.

“Only if we’re sure he’s not working alone,” said Romanoff. “An evacuation now would just flood the exits with civilians and make it easier for him to slip past us.” 

X

“From who, Jack Frost?” said Tony. Loki gave him a nonplussed look before rejoining Thor at the podium. The blue skin wasn’t half as weird as the red eyes, but the overall effect was basically just a Warhol painting come to life. Which was kinda nifty.

“Oy, Stark,” said Brunnhilde. “Are assassins a common problem for you?”

“What?” said Tony.

She tossed something at him, and he caught it without thinking, then immediately hot-potatoed it. After juggling it between his hands a couple times, he realized what it was. It was a little squashed, but it was unmistakably a bullet. His insides went cold. “That thing would’ve hit you in the head. Figured you should know, since it’s your head.”

“Wh—did you catch this in your bare hand?” were the only words that made it out of his mouth. 

“Yeah. I chucked a dagger at the shooter and he ran off. I don’t think he had help.”

Tony was suddenly back in that Humvee in Afghanistan when it started taking fire. It felt like he wasn’t getting any air even when he tried to breathe faster. 

“You alright?” said Brunnhilde, reaching for his arm. 

“Tony?” Pepper was there on his other side. “What happened? Is he okay?” She’d been the first thing he saw when he got back to the U.S., and the sight of her now made it easier to remember how to breathe. The flashing lights were just cameras. The noise was just a crowd.

“I’m okay,” he lied before Brunnhilde could answer. He kissed Pepper on the cheek and dropped the bullet into his jacket pocket. “We can talk about it when the whole world isn’t watching.”

Pepper wasn’t convinced, but Brunnhilde nodded and turned back to the podium.

“What planet—uh, artificial planetoid—are you from?” a reporter asked. Fifty thousand people and a full press pool watching this stage, and Tony’s brush with death seemed to have gone unnoticed by just about all of them. Did that make it better or worse?

“Hey Tony, did Brunnhilde fill you in on what just happened?” said Rhodey in Tony’s earpiece. 

“Yep,” he said. Pepper frowned at him. He shrugged and tried to act nonchalant. “You taking care of it?”

“Rogers and Romanoff are in pursuit. It doesn’t look like the shooter had backup but I’m keeping my eyes peeled.”

“Good to know.”

“You sure you don’t want to call it all off?”

“We’ll never get another shot this good,” said Tony. “The crowd didn’t notice, so I say we keep going, but I can suit up if it’d make you feel better.”

“It very much would. Please do that.”

Tony tapped his earpiece to switch channels. “Happy? Can you bring the briefcase down to the field?”

Chapter Text

Loki’s sensitive Jotun eyes were already watering in the sharp glare of all the artificial light the mortals loved, so he put up a glamour to maintain the outward appearance but changed back to Aes underneath the moment he finished his frjosleikr trick. Merciful relief. 

“What planet—uh, artificial planetoid—are you from?” asked a reporter. His and everyone else’s eyes mostly stayed on Loki, but they didn’t seem especially frightened. Or at least they were less frightened than they were curious. It was strange. Even though he hadn’t transformed during the banquet on Asgard, the looks he got there had carried much more weight, whether they were friendly or hostile, but all aliens must seem roughly equal to mortals who had never seen one before. 

“We are from Asgard,” said Thor.

“Perhaps you already know of it from those mostly inaccurate legends some of your cultures have about us,” Loki added.

“You mean the Asgard of Norse mythology?”

“Yes, that one,” said Thor happily. “I am Thor Odinson, Crown Prince and God of Thunder, this is my brother Loki Odinson, second prince and God of Mischief, and this is Brunnhilde Sigursdottir, a Valkyrie who fought alongside our father to defend Earth from invasion a thousand years ago.” Halfway through the sentence, all their cameras began flashing even more madly than before, and the crowd got louder. The overall tenor still sounded rather skeptical, which would be fun.

“That’s an extraordinary claim,” said another reporter. “Do you have stronger evidence to prove it than those outfits and that one of you can change colors and freeze water?”

“Of course! said Thor. “Why do you think Stark found us such a large place to introduce ourselves?” On cue, more of that industrial-sounding music blared out, and Thor lifted Mjolnir off his belt, grinning.

X

Steve met up with Romanoff again without seeing any sign of the would-be assassin. They had to move around some stragglers still making their way into the stadium as they reached the outer corridor hung with enormous banners of baseball players. 

“There!” Romanoff cried, pointing. Amid all the people coming in, only one man was leaving. He’d ditched the SWAT jacket and cap in favor of some Yankees merchandise and he carried a black backpack, but otherwise he matched Colonel Rhodes’s description. He must’ve heard Romanoff’s yell, because he booked it through the doors. They broke into a run.

“Stay on him!” said Romanoff once they were outside. “I’ll catch up.” She peeled off to the right and Steve ran on at full speed. The assassin was headed towards the southeast corner of the stadium, but Steve wasn’t closing much of the distance between them. At least he wasn’t barefoot like the last time he’d chased a man down in New York. His quarry reached the intersection beneath the train station and dashed across it, barely missing one of the oncoming cars. A large truck drove through and obscured Steve’s view for a second. When it passed, the assassin was vaulting over the red railing around stairs leading under the street. 

“He’s taking the subway!” said Steve. 

“The earpiece probably won’t get a signal down there, but I can follow the route from the street until he surfaces,” said Romanoff. 

Instead of waiting for the lights to change at the intersection, Steve leapt up and bounded across the roofs of passing vehicles, then hurdled the railing and dropped onto the steps leading down to the subway station. 

X

It was a good thing Natasha had parked the motorcycle on the south side of the stadium. She was able to reach it in under a minute. “Colonel Rhodes, can you tell me about the train leaving the subway station next to the stadium?” she said, firing it up.

“Yeah, hold up a second,” he said. “It’s the B line train, and it’s headed west under the Harlem River. Next stop is under the north end of Frederick Douglass Boulevard, then it swings south and stays under St. Nicholas Place and St. Nicholas Avenue for the next two.”

She pulled out of the street parking spot and drove west. “Any sign of accomplices?”

“Haven’t seen anything yet. I’m looking at the rifle he left now. It’s a VSS Vintorez.” 

“A Spetsnaz rifle?” said Natasha.

“Yeah, looks like a Russian hit job.”

“Vanko wasn’t,” she pointed out as she turned south and headed for the bridge. “If the Kremlin wanted Tony Stark dead, they wouldn’t be sloppy enough to leave that kind of weapon behind. More likely this is someone who doesn’t mind us thinking it was a Russian hit job.” Someone like Hydra, maybe. They had to be out for blood after what happened to Pierce. Stark was a good target for several reasons, especially the closer he got to SHIELD, and tonight was the last chance they might get to interfere with the public narrative of First Contact. If Stark hadn’t insisted on throwing this whole thing together in the space of a single afternoon, they would’ve had more time to plan an effective hit and sabotage.

X

Thor took flight to the opening bars of “Immigrant Song” and an explosion of cheers, leaving the press pool sitting dumbfounded on the stage, but Tony couldn’t enjoy what his plans had wrought. Happy was still on the way with the Suitcase Armor and Rhodey was flying over the stadium looking for more assassins. He felt extremely exposed.  

Next to him, Loki muttered something to Brunnhilde, who smirked, and the two of them hopped off the stage and ran out on the field in different directions. Loki sprang up onto the pyramid of junker cars, lifted up the nose of the topmost car like the whole thing was made of styrofoam, slipped under it, and then freaking threw all three thousand pounds of it in the direction of his airborne brother, who was at least fifty yards away. 

Thor intercepted it before it could begin to fall and smacked it with his hammer, sending it hurtling towards where Brunnhilde stood ready. The crowd gasped and yelled, possibly expecting her to be crushed by it. However, the next thing Tony knew, she was crouched in a different spot, a blue sword held out to the side, and the car was lying in two neat halves behind her. He looked up at the big screen, where the guys in the press box were making good use of the stadium’s filming capabilities by showing a slow-motion replay. In one movement, Brunnhilde had done a vertical jump at least four times her height, met the car in midair, and sliced the entire thing in half lengthwise. 

Whoever had caught that on camera was definitely getting a big tip. The crowd was cheering, most of them on their feet. Tony stepped up to the podium. “That was a nice little sample for you. What else do you want to see before we get back to the Q and A?”

X

Like much of New York, the subway was similar to what Steve was used to but with uncanny differences, from the colors to the angles to the smells. He didn’t have time to take any of that in, though. The train was leaving the station. He jumped the turnstile before anyone could protest. 

There was no sign of the assassin among the people on the platform; he must have boarded that train. Steve didn’t let that deter him and simply jumped down off the platform and chased it down the tracks. A few people shouted in alarm and a security officer yelled after him. Steve ignored them, legs pumping. The train was picking up speed in the dark tunnel, but Steve was closing in. Just when it seemed about to outstrip him, he threw himself forward and managed to grab onto the steel bar that ran across the rear door. 

It wasn’t really a caboose and there wasn’t much of a ledge to stand on, so he perched there awkwardly, peering through the window. There was no sign of his target in the rear car. None of the passengers were looking Steve’s way. He took advantage of that and plied his strength against the handle. It gave with a nasty screech, and he slipped inside. 

X

He’d lost War Machine by going underground. That had been the most dangerous obstacle to his escape, but he still had a long way to go to make his rendez-vous. He’d caught the subway train as the doors were closing, so it was unlikely his pursuers had managed to follow him, but they could still be checking each stop on this line, not to mention the surveillance footage. He located the cameras in his car of the train and moved casually to a blindspot, where he dispensed with the Yankees jacket and cap he’d snatched off an unattended display, swapping them out for a leather jacket and a cap with a college logo on it from his bag. 

He slipped the dagger the Asgardian woman had thrown at him into his jacket pocket. He’d never seen anything like it. It had cut right through the outer layer of metal on his arm before getting caught between two of the plates. It was heavier than any blade he’d used despite its size and had been made for smaller hands than his, but it was a thing of beauty. He was going to have to turn it over to his handlers. He would never disobey them, but the prospect still rankled a bit. 

Face hidden behind the sunglasses and a book he wasn’t really reading, he watched from the front car of the train. Like the baseball field, the train felt familiar in a way he couldn’t explain. It was easy—too easy—to imagine the interior as olive green instead of silver, with cartoon advertisements plastered along it, feeling the texture of orange woven wicker seats, swinging his legs because his feet couldn’t reach the floor yet. There was a skinny blond kid sitting next to him in his mental image. They would get papers off grown-up passengers who were done with theirs so they could read the new Buck Rogers strips, and the blond kid would get so excited he’d start wheezing. 

The train was slowing down as it approached the next stop, and the soldier shook his head to clear it. None of that was real. He needed to get debriefed, and soon. He glanced over at the rear window of the train car. About halfway down the next one, a big blond guy was making his way forward, looking carefully at each passenger. It was the guy who’d chased him at the stadium with the redhead. This tail was going to be harder to shake than he’d thought.

X

Just as the train was slowing down to make its next stop, Steve spotted the assassin. His face was hidden behind a book and sunglasses and the Yankees apparel was gone, but he had the same backpack and the brown hair down to his collar. He was also the only one on the train wearing gloves, and a thin strip of silver peeked out between the top of the left one and the bottom of his jacket sleeve. 

The second the doors opened, the assassin bolted out of the train. Steve ran after him, but this station was busier and there were more civilians in the way. He saw him going up the stairs at the exit and made it there a few seconds later. The sidewalk above was just as busy. Steve yelled a series of “sorrys” and “pardon mes” as he ran. He tapped his earpiece. “Romanoff, I’m in pursuit headed south on Frederick Douglass Boulevard! He’s in a leather jacket and an NYU cap now.”

“Way ahead of you.”

There was a screech of wheels and a motorcycle swerved abruptly off the road by the sidewalk and directly into the assassin’s path. He didn’t react in time and slammed right into it, knocking it over and sending himself and Romanoff sprawling. The sunglasses went clattering across the pavement.

X

If Thor had done this sort of thing prior to his banishment, it would have gone straight to his head, but after a month of slowly re-earning a measure of trust and camaraderie from his mortal friends, it was a pleasant change of pace to entertain an entire crowd of humans. Someone in the crowd would get an idea for a feat of strength they wanted to see, and if it was a popular one, it would become a chant that they could hear on the field. 

The first thing they requested was for one of the Asgardians to arm-wrestle War Machine. Brunnhilde did that and won easily, but that only made the humans more creative in their request, for next they wanted to see how much weight they could lift. Loki and Brunnhilde held two of the metal beams between them and Thor stacked the five remaining cars on top. He would’ve looked for something else to add to the pile, but the tires of the bottom car burst from the strain at that point, and it seemed unwise to continue that particular demonstration.

Thor and Loki encountered a slight setback when they tried to oblige the crowd by crushing one of the vehicles between them, in that their hands initially went right through the metal when they applied enough pressure. The metal beams proved useful again, for they could use them as buffers between their hands and the vehicle itself. They compressed the machine into a fifth of its original length within seconds, and the crowd cheered. 

“Let’s get some audience participation!” said Stark. “Who wants to play tug-of-war with the Valkyrie? Make sure you grab a pair of gloves out of the box so the chain doesn’t pinch your hands.”

X

The soldier went into a roll to break his fall after slamming into the motorcycle, and he wasn’t back upright again before the redhead was on him, trying to get her legs locked around his throat. He moved his left arm in the way, but he recognized that maneuver. Acting on his hunch, he reached around and jabbed at a spot on her stomach a few centimeters above her left hip. She yelled and convulsed and the pressure vanished from around his neck. He threw her off of him. The motorcycle she’d cut him off with was within reach and still running. He yanked it upright and got on. 

“Bucky?” 

He looked around. It was the big blond guy who’d chased him off the subway. He was only a few meters away, but he was just standing there, staring at him like he recognized him. The soldier squeezed the accelerator and shot away down the street. Who the hell was Bucky?

X

The blinding pain only lasted a moment, but it was long enough for the assassin to get away, and on Natasha’s bike too. She might be okay with that, though. He’d known exactly where her bullet wound was. Nobody but Clint, the SHIELD medic who’d patched her up, and Fury knew about that bullet wound—except for the one who gave it to her. It looked like Brunnhilde had done for Stark what Natasha had failed to do for that Iranian physicist. Dammit, she’d fought a battle on an alien planet; a human assassin shouldn’t still be able to rattle her this much.

From between a pair of alarmed pedestrians, Rogers appeared next to her and pulled her to her feet. Then he took off running even faster than before after the motorcycle. She tapped her earpiece, not attempting to follow. “Rogers, wait!”

“Can’t do that, Agent Romanoff.”

“Look, I know you’re Captain America, but this guy is one of the most dangerous assassins in the world. We’re lucky we aren’t his targets.”

“He’s Bucky.”

“What?” 

“Thor was right. I’m not gonna let Hydra get him back.”

Natasha’s stomach dropped. Bucky. Sergeant Barnes was the Winter Soldier. “Боже мой.” 

Chapter Text

The longer the Asgardians put on their show, the more on edge Tony felt. A huffing and puffing Happy finally arrived with the Suitcase Armor while Brunnhilde was getting set to play tug-of-war against a few dozen people (mostly men with cocky expressions) from the crowd. 

“What, did you change your mind about letting the Colonel have all the fun?” said Happy.

“Something like that,” said Tony. If he told Happy about the squashed bullet in his pocket, no power on Earth would stop him from going into full red alert mode. Happy turned and headed back off the field, speaking into a walkie-talkie as he went. Tony stuck his foot into the activation slot on the case. It popped open along the edge...and then nothing else happened. A fresh frisson of panic went through him. He pressed his foot down more firmly. Still nothing. 

“We can probably do the ‘grand finale’ soon,” said Loki’s voice in his earpiece. “There’s something I’d like to try. It’s not quite what we discussed but I think all the children here will enjoy it.”

“Yeah, okay,” said Tony, trying the start-up mechanism again. He couldn’t even ask JARVIS to run diagnostics without risking someone noticing.

“Is all well, Stark?” 

Tony jumped, nearly stubbing his toe on the inside of the case. Loki was not still across the field like Tony had thought, but instead had popped over to the stage and was regarding him a little too shrewdly with those red eyes. “Not exactly,” said Tony, keeping his voice down so neither Pepper nor the reporters would hear. “An assassin tried to shoot me.”

“What?” said Loki, scanning the field and the stands, expression fierce. “Who? Where?”

“Cap and Romanoff are chasing him down. Rhodey’s on the lookout for accomplices. I was gonna suit up in case of more bullets, but I seem to be experiencing technical difficulties.”

“Yet you choose to remain?”

“This thing has to work,” said Tony, gesturing around at the stadium. “For both of our worlds, right?”

Loki looked at him intently, then nodded. “Here.” He waved a hand, which glowed green-gold. Then Tony watched a perfect replica of himself take a couple steps forward. When he looked down, he couldn’t see his body at all. He pinched his arm. It hurt, and he still felt solid. It wasn’t as weird as being a flying squirrel, but he definitely hadn’t expected it. “A cloaking spell and a simulacrum,” Loki explained. “It will copy your movements and speak with your voice while you remain safely invisible.”

“Thanks, pal,” said Tony. His heart wasn’t pounding quite so hard now. 

“Of course,” said Loki.

X

All Steve could think running down the streets of Harlem was that this was something he should’ve been able to stop. If he hadn’t gone into the ice, how much sooner could he have found Bucky? How much of what Hydra had done to him could he have saved him from? Could he have gotten to him before they made him forget what he was fighting for? The sound of his own name? The friend who was as good as a brother? God, and what about Bucky’s actual brother and sisters? Were they still alive? Did any of them still live in Brooklyn? Steve had personally written the letter to the Barnes family after Bucky fell, but if there had been a reply, it had come too late for him to see it.

Steve was fast, but the motorcycle was faster, and Bucky wove between and around the slower cars like an expert. He turned a corner onto 145th up ahead, and by the time Steve reached it, he couldn’t see the bike anymore. 

“Rogers,” came Romanoff’s voice. “I activated SHIELD’s tracking system on the bike. I don’t know how long he’s planning on keeping it, but I doubt he’ll ride it all the way to his rendez-vous point. How much of a lead does he have on you?”

“Just lost visual,” said Steve.  

“He’s heading south on Bradhurst Avenue.”

“Got it,” said Steve, sprinting across the street. “Thanks.”

“I still think this is a bad idea, but it’s your call.”

X

Thor gave a hearty laugh at the sight of Brunnhilde pulling the long line of men down with the chain. A few of the humans on the field had come along to test whether the vehicles they’d been tossing about were truly so heavy and solid, then slunk away, looking almost disappointed to learn that it really hadn’t been a trick. Stark had indeed done an excellent job setting all of this up. 

Loki appeared at his side. “Only one thing left to show them, Brother.” 

“You don’t want to demonstrate a few of your spells first?” 

“As gratifying as that might be, I do not think additional displays of sorcery will greatly endear me to the Ancient One, and I will not jeopardize my chance to study mortal magic. Now just do what you always do and I’ll work out the rest.”

“Don’t give yourself another frjosleikr fever.”

“I assure you that is a lesson I only needed to learn once.”

Loki was generally quite good at staying within his limits once he knew them, so Thor wasn’t worried. In any case, he’d been looking forward to trying this since the day Loki learned of his heritage.

Thor returned to the platform and shot a glance at Stark, who nodded. He grinned. The final notes of the current song faded out, and the more strident opening chords of the next began. He leaned over the microphone. “Alright, we’ll get back to answering your questions soon, but first, would you like to see why they call me the God of Thunder?”

X

Out of nowhere, rain started coming down in sheets. Lightning split the sky, casting every building, car, and pedestrian into sharp relief, and thunder crashed almost immediately after. Most of the other people in the street made sounds of dismay and picked up their speed or opened up umbrellas, but Steve just kept running. Based on Romanoff’s directions, Bucky was headed straight down the adjacent street, and there wasn’t anywhere for him to go on it but south for another couple blocks. 

Steve cut through a narrow alley, leaping trash cans and a chain link fence. “It’s gonna be close, but you should come out right on top of him,” said Romanoff. Steve had no idea how she was pinning his location down like this, but she was correct. The motorcycle was nearly level with the mouth of the alley on the other side of the two-lane street when he emerged from between the two buildings. 

Steve didn’t waste his chance. There were no cars in the way, so he sprang towards the opposite side of the road. Another flash of lightning lit up Bucky’s surprised face as he tackled him right off the motorcycle, which tipped without its rider and skidded into a parked car with a shower of sparks. 

X

Stark had chosen the perfect music once again. Loki now understood why he kept calling Thor “Thunderstruck.” Thor timed the first and only bolt of lightning to actually touch down on the field with the beginning of the lyrics, then kept the rest dancing in the clouds so as not to alarm the mortals. 

As for Loki, he would not have attempted his part without the Casket of Ancient Winters. With it, turning the rain Thor called forth into snow on the way down to the stadium was as simple as forming a thought. Gerd and Fjolnir would be very impressed. He felt millions of raindrops crystallizing and clumping together in response to his will, and his very being seemed to sing with the power of it. Loki was sure that Odin had been correct when he claimed that the Casket was not meant to be a weapon. It seemed alive in Loki’s hands, and while it was capable of summoning the deadliest of winter storms if the wielder brought that intent, it eagerly embraced the sheer joy of fresh, untouched snow.

The snow fell so thick that it would soon blanket the field. Loki took care to draw the heat out of the ground to help it stick, which provided plenty of energy to help make the snowflakes extra large. The lightning looked different through snow than it did through rain. Sort of bluish-purple, and the sound of the thunder was a little softer. 

Loki relished the thought of what Laufey might think of this: the Casket returned to the world he once sought to conquer—in the hands of the son he sought to dispose of—for no greater purpose than to delight mortal children. And delighted they were. Hundreds of them poured out of the stands in a chorus of shrieks and giggles. 

X

People on the sidewalk yelled in alarm and a few swore as they scrambled out of the way. Steve tried to get Bucky into a hold but had to fend off the metal arm. Within seconds, he was on the defensive. Bucky was using moves Steve had never encountered before and still showed no sign of recognition. He wanted to try to reason with him but Bucky pulled a knife and he was forced to devote all his attention to not getting stabbed. 

“Bucky, stop! Don’t you know me?”

“What are you talking about?” Bucky snarled.

“Your name is James Buchanan Barnes,” said Steve, deflecting another lunge with the knife and trying to grab the arm to put it in a lock. “You’ve known me your entire life. We grew up just a few miles from here.”

“Shut up!” Drenched in rain and face twisted with rage, Bucky looked almost feral. He threw off the arm lock and dropped the knife into his other hand. Steve barely kept his footing jumping back to avoid the next sweep of the knife, but Bucky followed up with a kick to the gut. The impact sent Steve crashing into a bench. 

Bucky turned and started running again. Steve gave chase, but before he could catch up, Bucky grabbed a woman whose attention had been on the little rectangular device in her hand, sending her umbrella tumbling. He turned to face Steve, metal hand over her mouth, the other pressing the dagger to her throat as he dragged her back into another alley.

“Let her go!” Steve yelled.

“Stop chasing me,” said Bucky.

Steve raised his hands, drawing slowly closer. Nobody else was around; the downpour had sent most people rushing indoors. Steve looked at the whimpering girl who was standing as still as she could, eyes locked pleadingly on his. Lightning briefly illuminated her terrified features. “You don’t have to be Hydra’s weapon, Buck.”

His words had no effect. Bucky’s face was cold and closed off. “Don’t follow me,” he said. Before Steve could do anything else, Bucky plunged the knife into the girl’s stomach and threw her at him, then bolted deeper into the alley.

X

Natasha handed the cab driver his fare and stepped out into the storm. Her SHIELD bike was lying on its side behind a parked car with a freshly dented bumper, but Rogers and Barnes were nowhere in sight. She jogged along the sidewalk until she came to a little alley between a barber shop and a pizzeria. Rogers was there with a girl who looked about college age. His hands were pressed tightly over her stomach, and blood seeped out between his fingers, mingling with the rain. The girl was conscious but very pale. 

“He stabbed her,” said Rogers. “Just to keep me from chasing him.” He looked up at Natasha. “What the hell did they do to him?”

“I don’t know,” she said as she dialed 911. Her instinct (which might be taking most of its cues from her bullet wound) was to treat Barnes as a hostile, but she didn’t think Thor would have given Rogers the tip about his friend if there was nothing left of him to save, so she bit back her skepticism. “Whatever it was, they did a good job, but this isn’t over. We’ll find him.” 

X

After about half an hour, Yankee Stadium was covered in about six inches of perfect packing snow with more still coming down, and the children of New York were making good use of it. Though few of them were dressed for cold weather, they gleefully built snowmen, rolled about in the snow, and waged an epic snowball battle, which all three Asgardians participated in gladly. 

At one point during the fray, Thor introduced Loki to a small boy he had met on their previous visit to Earth, who proudly brandished a toy Mjolnir he appeared to have crafted himself. 

When the snow was all eventually reduced to reddish brown slush and the field was completely unrecognizable, Loki, Thor, and Brunnhilde returned to the stage. Everyone was a bit untidy and covered in patches of snow, but spirits were high. Stark seemed a bit more himself as well, and Loki discreetly dispensed with the protective illusions around him.

“If we have proven our identities to your satisfaction, we are happy to answer more of your questions,” said Thor. The storm clouds were beginning to part and would be entirely gone in moments. Loki had already returned the Casket to his dimensional pocket, but now he fully switched back to his Aes form, which seemed more fitting if he was here representing Asgard.

“Um, well…” said one reporter, seemingly at a loss. Another took advantage of his hesitation to jump in. 

“You’ve come here as the Norse Gods of Thunder and Mischief. How do you expect Earth to take that information?”

“We’re not here to ask anyone to worship us, if that’s what worries you,” said Thor.

Loki could hear, plain as if he was standing there with him, Fandral’s voice quipping, “But who would blame you if you did?” It sent a jolt through him. How were he and the others doing on Asgard? What had Volstagg and Hogun made of Fandral’s betrayal? Was the group of friends already laughing together again? He shook himself and leaned closer to the microphone. “We earned our titles by Asgard’s reckoning, but we have come to Earth to forge ties of friendship and diplomacy. Nothing more.”

“Is this your first time on Earth?” said the first reporter, finally unsticking his tongue.

“Loki’s and my second this month,” said Thor. “Though it had been over a century since we last came to this planet. We are fond of Earth, of course, but it doesn’t often demand as much of our attention as the other realms we defend.”

“So there are other populated planets out there?”

“Oh yeah,” said Brunnhilde. “Loads of them.”

“You mentioned earlier that you defended Earth from an invasion? What did you mean by that?”

X

No one was following him anymore. He should head straight to the rendez-vous point and put the entire failed mission behind him. He decided to take a less direct route just to be safe. That was the only reason. It wasn’t that different buildings and streets he passed tugged at him—and more, the farther south he walked. It wasn’t the image of his pursuer’s face burned into his mind. Another face jumped out of his memories. An older one. One of his past targets. High profile. There had been recognition in that face too, and he’d called him Sergeant Barnes. Too many pieces were fitting together. 

“Soldier.”

He snapped around to face the speaker. It was his handler, standing next to the open passenger door of a black SUV. He didn’t relax.

“Get in. It’s time to debrief.”

He climbed obediently into the vehicle. “Mission failure,” he said. The first time he’d ever said it.

Chapter Text

The reporters fired off more questions for another hour or so. Tony kept it from getting out of hand by giving them broad categories to stick to: Asgardian culture and technology (which just made Tony more jealous of Barton, Romanoff, and Banner), other aliens, the history of Asgard’s interactions with Earth (they got a little bogged down in that one at the revelation that Loki’s teenage theatre nerd phase had included being one of Shakespeare’s original actors), and their plans for the future. 

Thor had enough tact not to go off about the looming threats of alien warlords in front of a crowd of civilians, and left most of the complex answers to Loki. Brunnhilde spoke the least, but Tony caught her scrutinizing various parts of the stadium when the attention wasn’t on her. She was still on the watch for signs of more trouble. That alone was as reassuring as Loki’s illusions had been, and he was almost able to enjoy himself. 

After a quick glance at his watch, he stepped up to the mic. “We’re about ready to wrap this up,” he said. “So I’ll take the last question.” He turned to the Asgardians. “How long are you staying, and when do you think you’ll be back?”

This was one they had discussed beforehand: following the press conference, they would do a quick debrief with SHIELD and then head home. It would keep the narrative nice and simple for the public, and then they could come back at some point in the near future to meet with a bunch of world leaders and do the rest of the boring diplomatic stuff. “We’ll be returning to Asgard shortly,” said Thor. “Perhaps tonight. This isn’t the only realm to which we want to build stronger ties, but we should be back before long.”

“Yes,” said Loki. “Our thanks to this city for the gracious welcome. We hope you’ve enjoyed the evening as much as we have.”

There was a lot of applause and cheering in reply, even if most of the reporters looked grumpy that it wasn’t going longer.

X

Under the stadium near where they had waited for the press conference to begin, Thor, Loki, Brunnhilde, Stark, and the lady Pepper were met by the son of Coul, who was ready to take the Asgardians back to the Triskelion before they called the Bifrost to bring them home. 

“Thank you, Stark,” said Thor, clapping him on the shoulder. “We could not have done this so well without your help.” 

“Sure thing,” said Stark. “I think it went well.”

Loki and Brunnhilde exchanged glances at this, which made both Thor and Pepper frown. It had gone well, had it not? Perhaps things would turn out even better than in the first timeline. No Destroyer, no invasion. There wasn’t any trouble the Asgardians could be accused of causing this time. Calls to develop something like SHIELD’s “Phase 2” operation would have very little to fuel them. 

“I look forward to continuing our contest,” said Loki, grinning. He clasped arms with Stark and kissed Pepper’s hand. Thor tried not to be too enthusiastic when he hugged Stark even though he was very pleased with the day. To his surprise, Stark clasped arms with Brunnhilde, and she actually smiled at him. He was still puzzling over it when they departed with Coulson a moment later. 

X

Tony couldn’t get to the Manhattan penthouse fast enough. The place was outfitted a little better for shopwork than the Virginia house. Still nothing on Malibu, but he wasn’t looking to build anything from scratch. He cracked open the Suitcase Armor, barely pausing to shed his suit jacket before diving in.

“Are you going to tell me what’s going on?” said Pepper. “You’ve been tense since the beginning of the press conference, but you didn’t put on the suit when Happy brought it to you.”

“Check my coat pocket,” said Tony, hooking the suitcase armor up to the computer.

Pepper walked slowly to his jacket and rummaged around in it. “Oh God, is this—?”

“There was an assassin at the stadium. Lucky for me, Asgardians can catch bullets.” The computer’s preliminary readout indicated a simple jammed release mechanism, but for something like that to happen the same night as an assassination attempt? It had worked just fine when he tested it after making the repairs.

“Someone tried to shoot you?” said Pepper. Her voice grew steadily louder. “Someone tried to shoot you?! And you just stayed on that platform for almost two whole hours like nothing was wrong? And you didn’t tell me?”

“Colonel Rhodes and Mr. Hogan have arrived, sir,” said JARVIS before Tony could try to reassure her, and they heard Happy’s voice almost immediately after that.

“—nobody was going to tell the head of security about the assassin until one of my guys found the NYPD counter-sniper strung up in a utility closet? How am I supposed to do my job if I’m not in the loop?” 

Tony didn’t have to look at Pepper to know she was appalled. “You didn’t even tell Happy?!”

Rhodey and Happy strode into the workshop. “Oh good, you didn’t get murdered on the way here,” said Rhodey.

“Come on, you’re not gonna back me up?” said Tony. 

“I spent the whole evening doing that. You didn’t have to be on the field after the shots were fired.”

“Shots, plural?” said Pepper, her voice jumping an entire octave.

X

Bruce had spent the afternoon and evening in a Triskelion briefing room with Agent Barton for company. At first he thought Barton was just there to keep an eye on him in case he got any funny ideas about letting the Other Guy loose in SHIELD’s headquarters, but it turned out he had a very specific purpose not directly related to Bruce himself. He had dug up the personnel and medical files on the sometimes-incorporeal agent who had disrupted their lunch the previous day and had obtained clearance to get Bruce’s professional opinion on them. The story they told, interrupted here and there with redacted sections, was not pleasant.

It was clear that Ava Starr was in a very similar situation to himself. Maybe worse. At least Bruce had already been an adult when he ended up on the wrong side of a doomed experiment. She’d lost her parents and her childhood to one, and she’d been taken advantage of by a government agency ever since, all while suffering worsening chronic pain. 

Despite Agent Barton’s stoicism, it was obvious that he cared very much about making good on SHIELD’s promises to her. Bruce wanted to help, but quantum physics really wasn’t his area of expertise. It was going to take a lot of study and research to understand her condition, let alone come up with any ideas for how to treat it, and in the end he might have to hand it off to someone better qualified. Fortunately, her life wasn’t in immediate danger as long as she stayed off Hydra’s radar, so there was time.  

His initial foray into researching the subject using the additional materials Barton provided was soon interrupted, however, because of what Tony Stark and the Asgardians were up to in New York. Bruce and Agent Barton watched the entire press conference/monster truck rally-style display of alien abilities on the news, then left the TV on for the mix of replays, talking heads, and street interviews with New Yorkers who’d been there that came next. It was certainly an exciting evening for planet Earth. Bruce tried to return his focus to the research materials, but didn’t make much headway.

The door to the briefing room opened and Coulson walked in, followed by Thor, Loki, and Brunnhilde. Thor beamed at the sight of Bruce and Barton, and the tension Bruce had carried in his chest since setting foot in this building loosened a little.

“You guys had an interesting day,” Agent Barton observed.

“We did!” said Thor. “And what about you? You weren’t in New York.”

“Uh…,” said Bruce, glancing at Barton.

“We’ve been working on how we can help our unexpected lunch guest.”

“Then she is an ally?” said Loki.

“Not an enemy, at least,” said Barton. “Pretty skittish, though, and for good reason.”

“Are we really going back to Asgard tonight?” said Bruce.

“Yes, I think so,” said Thor. “Did you have some objection?”

“I kinda...invited someone,” said Bruce, feeling his face heat up. That had probably been a massive presumption on his part. “I thought there’d be a couple more days for her to decide if she wants to come.” 

“Well perhaps we can contact her now,” said Thor, unconcerned. “And if not, we can still send for her when she’s ready.”

X

Tony endured a very uncomfortable half-hour that he probably deserved, even if it didn’t make him regret not pulling the plug on the press conference. Mostly he was sorry he’d made Happy, Rhodey, and Pepper so worried again. He was going to have to reset his counter that marked the days since the last time he did that. Eventually, Happy left to go deal with the NYPD, Rhodey left to go back to his Air Force base, and Pepper went to bed with a headache. 

Tony was now deep into dismantling the Suitcase Armor, with no sign of the flaw the diagnostic report had described, when JARVIS announced the arrival of more guests. “Captain Rogers and Agent Romanoff are requesting access to the penthouse elevator, sir,” he said.

“Send them up,” said Tony. It took another minute for them to reach the workshop. He glanced up at their entrance. They both had wet hair and clothes from Thor’s storm. “You missed the party,” he said, looking back down at the disassembled suit. It was about time to start looking at the software.

“Party?” said Rogers. 

“Yeah, the party where everyone yells at me for being reckless. It’s been the theme of all my social events this year.”

“Uh, no,” said Rogers. “Not here for that.”

“Do you want the good news first or the bad news?” said Romanoff.

“Bad news.”

“He got away,” said Rogers. 

Tony froze. He had to remind himself that all the windows in the penthouse were bulletproof glass to stop the panic from coming back. “And there’s good news?”

“We won’t have to rely on facial recognition to find Sergeant Barnes,” said Romanoff.

“What?” said Tony.

“The assassin is Bucky,” said Rogers. “That’s what Hydra’s using him for.”

“He’s not just any assassin either,” said Romanoff, while Rogers walked over to the window, grim-faced. “He’s the ghost story of the intelligence community. Dozens of confirmed kills across five decades. Including one mark he shot through me.” She moved her left hand over a spot on her side with a wince almost too small to notice. Her words didn’t disturb Tony nearly as much as her demeanor. She was trying to hide it, but for the first time since he’d met her, she was rattled. 

X

Steve looked out over Manhattan through the floor-to-ceiling windows that took the place of most of the walls. This might be the worst he’d felt since he watched Bucky fall from the train. He thought back to what he’d been like when they fought in the street. He didn’t think he’d ever seen him so enraged. And stabbing that girl… Steve and Romanoff had accompanied her to the hospital before coming here. The doctors were confident she’d recover. Had Bucky done that on purpose or did she just get lucky because she wasn’t his real target? 

“You both offered to help me find him,” said Steve, “I’m grateful for that, but I can’t hold you to it.”

“You think you can track him down on your own?” said Romanoff.

He turned to face her and Tony. “I don’t know. I have to believe that my friend’s still in there somewhere, but it doesn’t change that he could’ve killed either one of you. You don’t owe me or Bucky anything.”

Romanoff exchanged a glance with Tony. “Look, Rogers, I’m not going to pretend the Winter Soldier doesn’t scare the hell out of me,” she said, “but I used to be a Russian assassin, and I don’t even know how many of the missions I’ve done for SHIELD were furthering Hydra’s goals. If Barnes isn’t working for them of his own free will, I’d be a hypocrite to run away from this.”

Steve looked into her serious face. It was strange to think that less than twelve hours ago, he’d been nervous that she might try to seduce him on Fury’s orders. Now it was hard to imagine attempting to pull Bucky out of Hydra’s clutches without her. He nodded. 

“Yeah I’m gonna have to agree with Romanoff,” said Tony, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. “Second chances all around. I won’t play nice if he tries to shoot me again, but I’m still in.”

“Thank you,” said Steve. 

Tony shrugged. “Hey, if I’m on Hydra’s hit list, it’s not like I can sit this one out.” 

“I think tonight was more about messing up the press conference than it was about eliminating you in particular, but I wouldn’t drop my guard,” said Romanoff.

X

Thor was very glad he had decided to visit Earth when he had. They’d achieved so much in just a few days. Loki was an Avenger and the original Avengers had all met together, Hydra was known to them so they would be able to start rooting them out of SHIELD, he had a better understanding of how he had traveled through time, and they had laid considerable groundwork for their interplanetary alliance. Somehow it all seemed to bode well for their dealings with Jotunheim, and with all the progress Jane, Erik, and Banner were making on the tracking device, the Dokkalfar wouldn’t be a problem he needed to worry about much longer. That would only leave Hela and Thanos. 

There was a long way to go yet, but Thor’s steadfast determination to succeed had never been paired with quite so much hope. Even the thought of encountering Fandral when they returned couldn’t sour his mood.

He, Loki, Brunnhilde, and Banner were back at the Bifrost site outside the American capital city and saying their farewells to Coulson when one of those yellow vehicles the mortals called cabs came racing up. It screeched to a halt and Betty Ross jumped out of the back. “Wait!” she cried. “I’m here!” 

Bruce’s entire face lit up in a way Thor had never seen, and he dashed over to help her carry her things.

“There’s no need to worry, good lady,” said Thor. “We would not have left without you.”

“Oh, thanks,” she said. She shifted the bags she was holding to one arm so she could wave at them. “I’m Betty Ross. I already know who all of you are from watching the press conference.”

“What changed?” said Bruce, still wearing the broad smile while hoisting two large pieces of luggage. “I thought you needed time to come up with a good justification for a sabbatical.”

“So did I, but my dean saw the press conference too, and he pretty much insisted on sending me right away if it meant Culver would get Earth’s first crack at researching an alien planetoid. I didn’t mention that Foster and Selvig are already there in case it changed his mind.”

Bruce laughed. 

“Delighted to make your acquaintance properly, Dr. Ross,” said Loki as they all moved to stand on the charred knotwork pattern in the grass. 

Betty was clearly a little surprised that an alien prince should be delighted to meet her, but she smiled at him and Thor and Brunnhilde as well. “Thanks. It’s good to meet you too.”

“It’s quite overdue,” Loki added, “considering that I briefly impersonated you last month.” 

“What?” said Betty.

Thor chuckled. “Heimdall, we’re ready!”

Chapter Text

“I looked in on your visit to Midgard,” said Odin about halfway through breakfast while glancing over a sheaf of parchment for the upcoming Council meeting. “That is certainly not how I would have chosen to reintroduce Asgard to the mortals.”

“You’re the one who instructed Heimdall to allow Brunnhilde to leave Asgard if she wished, dear,” said Frigga. “You cannot complain if the results were indiscreet.”

“I do not complain,” Odin protested. “I am merely noting that their methods were unconventional. But effective nonetheless.”

“Thank you, Father,” said Thor, who was tossing scraps from his plate just high enough that the ravens and the wolves had about an equal chance of catching them. 

“The people did quite like our thundersnow,” said Loki.

“Yes, a clever way of combining your natural gifts,” said Odin. “I’m sure you will find many applications for it.”

“I hope so,” said Thor, grinning.

“The Council will expect a report from you. Some of the members aren’t happy, but others have already been pestering me about pursuing trade opportunities.”

“What sort of trade opportunities?” Munin had just swooped in and snatched a piece of bacon right as Freki’s jaws were about to close on it, eliciting an offended growl from her and a jeering croak from Hugin.

“A few of the other realms are likely to want to approach Midgard for trade once Asgard begins, and Volund of the guild of seidrsmiths would like to make the first offer on vibranium, before the Dvergar can get to it.”

“The House of Freyr will be returning within a day or two,” Frigga informed Loki while Thor and Odin continued their trade discussion.

“Excellent,” said Loki, sitting up a little straighter. It wasn’t just that he wanted to tell Fjolnir about the thundersnow; he couldn’t wait to dive into the books Gerd said she would bring him. 

Frigga’s lip curled in a knowing smirk. “How will you be dividing your time between studying frjosleikr and mortal magic? It is quite the dilemma for you. I do not recommend forgoing sleep, no matter how sorely you are tempted.”

Loki gave her a flat look. “Mortals being somewhat temporary, I expect I might need to give them the greater focus, at least until they’re convinced of my earnestness. How is it that Asgard didn’t know of these sorcerers?”

She chewed a bite of pastry thoughtfully. “We did have some notion that there were a few who could wield magic on Midgard. The common assumption has always been that it came from diluted Alfar or Vanir blood or that they’d gotten hold of a few enchanted artifacts. You’re quite sure it isn’t seidr?”

“No, it felt like something entirely different. I have a theory about it.”

“Oh?” 

“Stark gave me the idea, actually. Mortals lack inherent magic, but what if they’ve worked out the mechanics of it?” 

“How curious,” said Frigga. “I suppose those aren’t something we’ve needed to understand in order to make use of our seidr, but they likely have no choice.”

“Precisely.”

“Well, I will be eager to learn what you discover from them.”

“Though on the other hand,” said Loki, “the alliance with Midgard is not at all contingent upon my ability to perform mortal magic, while I doubt I will seem very credible to the Jotnar if I look like a fumbling child when manipulating ice.” 

“You mean to present yourself to them as Jotun, then?” Her tone was guarded but hinted at support for the idea. 

Loki grimaced. “Not initially, I think. I doubt that would go well. Whatever I do, it must be soon, before Laufey learns of me by other means.”

“He has not, thus far,” said Odin, and all attention turned to him. “Lines of communication to Jotunheim are limited. Word has reached Vanaheim and possibly Nidavellir, but no other realm has so fraught a history with Jotunheim as ours, so it will matter to them only insofar as they believe it may be useful politically. I anticipate nothing but support from Alfheim, given their long tradition of offering sanctuary to refugee skamrborn, but if they know, they have shown no sign.”

“This is perhaps the ideal moment for the realms to be distracted by the prospect of closer dealings with Midgard,” said Frigga. “And by revealing yourself to Midgard as you did, you blunted the value of your heritage as a weapon.” She gestured to one of the waiting servants, who swooped in to clear away her plate and goblet. “However, before either of you go courting more alliances across Yggdrasil, boys, I believe there are a few closer to home that need your attention.”

Thor and Loki exchanged glances laden with reluctance and trepidation. 

“Yes, and we should meet later to discuss our strategy against the Dokkalfar,” said Odin. 

“They aren’t the only ones we should discuss, Father,” said Loki. “I have an idea I think you will like.”

“Very well,” said Odin. “Find me when the Council breaks for the midday meal.”

“I will,” said Loki, ignoring the curious look from Frigga and the suspicious one from Thor.

X

Sif was, once again, at the training grounds. She made the briefest pause in her practice forms when she caught sight of Loki, causing him to freeze in place. It was a sensation akin to being spotted by a full-grown bilgesnipe, and he didn’t relax immediately when she kept going.

“You weren’t on Midgard long,” she observed.

“No,” Loki agreed. “Brunnhilde joined us halfway through.”

Sif threw her head back in a groan. “Norns, did you come here to torture me? I can’t believe what an idiot I was. How much does she despise me?”

“She doesn’t despise you. I suspect you may have knocked loose something painful she was holding too tightly to, if only by accident. She was happier yesterday than I’ve seen her yet.”

Sif narrowed her eyes. “You asked her to spar with me, didn’t you?”

“I rather thought it would go better than it did.”

Her mouth twisted. “Well. It was an excellent bout, at least at first.”

He risked a triumphant smirk, and when she didn’t lunge at him with her sword, he kept it. “She said you remind her of herself.” Sif’s eyes lit up, and Loki’s smirk softened into a smile, if a slightly painful one. “I’m sorry I suspected you of treachery, Sif.”

She set her sword down against the weapons rack. “It seems it’s only a matter of timelines that I don’t deserve it.”

Loki considered that. It wasn’t a pleasant thought, but she didn’t appear to like it much either. He stuck out his hand. “How fortunate we are to be in this one, then.” She grabbed his forearm and jerked him into a tight hug instead, muttering something that sounded like a rather foul insult into his shoulder. “Enough of that,” he complained when the hug kept going. “Take up your sword again so we can fight.”

X

It wasn’t difficult to track Fandral down. Thor didn’t even need to get Heimdall’s help. Everyone at The King’s Spear already knew that he was at another mead hall, The Shattered Flagon, out near the edge of the city. He’d become a subject of much mockery, as he had done little but drink and mope about by himself since the mortal maiden had spurned him at the banquet, and even his dearest companions wanted none of his company. Thor counted it fortunate that the gossip included nothing about Loki or that Fandral had narrowly avoided execution.

Just as they’d said, Fandral was nursing a large tankard at the bar of The Shattered Flagon, and no other patron was coming within yards of him. Thor took the stool to his right. Fandral turned a groggy eye upon him and flinched away when he saw who it was. “How can I be of service, your highness?”

“So formal,” said Thor. 

Fandral looked utterly miserable. His hair and beard had been left to their own devices, his clothing was rumpled and stained, and there were dark circles under his eyes. “If you’re here to flatten me with Mjolnir, I beg you to get on with it.”

“Enough,” said Thor. “Loki pleaded for your life. I will not be the one to take it.” He clenched his fists. “You saw me greet him on Maw’s ship. Did you not trust me to know my own brother?”

“I was wrong.”

“Then what do you mean to do about it?”

 “Whatever I can to earn back your friendship and Loki’s.”

Much as Thor did not want to forgive him, it was difficult to stay angry with a person so wretched with remorse, particularly when he’d made greater mistakes than Fandral’s and had lived with the consequences. “We may soon find a use for you,” he said, watching Fandral closely for his reaction. “Someone with your charm would make a fine ambassador to Jotunheim.”

Fandral closed his eyes. He drained his tankard in one, then threw it on the floor. “For Asgard.”

X

“This Dark Elf stuff is nuts,” said Darcy, turning a page of the ancient illuminated history book she’d been immersed in.

“You found a book on the Dokkalfar?” said Vidar. “Why bother? Every child of Asgard knows the tales. Any of us could have told you.”

“Yeah, bedtime stories are nice, but they’re not gonna cut it as a main source if I want it to count towards my independent study credits.” It was super weird how little Asgardians seemed to care about history as a subject to study in depth. Maybe they figured oral tradition was enough thanks to their crazy long lifespans, but it seemed like a pretty big blindspot to Darcy. “I found a couple of Asgardian sources but they were kinda sparse. This one says it’s from Alfheim. Same broad strokes in the narrative but a lot more detail. It goes back before Asgard was founded. A bunch of elves left Alfheim and settled on Svartalfheim, the dwarves’ homeworld. Which was called Dvergverden back then.” 

“What, they colonized it?” said Erik, looking up from the complex equations he was working on.

“That’s what I thought at first, but the dwarves actually invited them,” said Darcy. “They wanted to study the black hole Dvergverden orbits and combine their knowledge.” 

“Then the Ljosalfar and Dokkalfar are the same race?” said Vidar, frowning.

“Yep,” said Darcy. “The different names came from the elves who stayed on Alfheim. They wanted to make it clear to everyone else that the atrocities that happened later didn’t have anything to do with them. But for a couple of your long-ass generations, it looked like it was all going to work out fine.” She flipped forward a few sections in the book. “Until this one guy, Kraw the Uncontrollable, found a weapon that could reshape reality—”

“The Aether,” said Vidar.

“Right. He decided to make Dvergverden into an elves-only kind of place and renamed it Svartalfheim. He slaughtered a bunch of elves who objected, and the dwarves that survived fled to this thing they built around a star—”

“What, like a Dyson sphere?” said Jane. “A working one?!”

“If you’re speaking of Nidavellir, yes,” said Vidar. “Their smithing is unparalleled by anyone else in Yggdrasil.”

“Yeah I wasn’t even going to try to pronounce that,” Darcy muttered. She was getting better at some of these tangly Norse-sounding words, but she’d been mentally editing that one to “Nevada” and not bothering. “Anyway, Alfheim, Vanaheim, and Jotunheim saw all this happening and weren’t super thrilled about it. It says here that the dwarven genocide was a big part of why Vanaheim decided to build Asgard. They were afraid Kraw wouldn’t stop with one world, and they were right. War broke out on a bunch of different planets. Asgard under King Buri was probably the only reason Kraw didn’t take over all of Yggdrasil, but he came pretty close. 

“Enter Malekith the Accursed, one of Kraw’s advisors. (Who picks these names? Seriously.) Malekith didn’t like Kraw’s battle strategy I guess. He assassinated Kraw and took control of the Aether. That was around when Bor became King of Asgard. He went a lot harder than his dad and managed to beat the Dark Elves all the way back to Svartalfheim. They fought so long that it left the whole planet uninhabitable.”

“It sure looked that way when we saw it,” said Jane.

“Malekith still had the Aether, though,” Darcy went on. “He was going to use this big celestial alignment thing to regain all the lost territory in one swoop, but this is the part I don’t really get. It says he changed the Dark Elves so that they would be the only ones who could thrive in the darkness? Changed them how? Did they need better night vision or something?”

“Malekith seeks to wield the Aether to transform the universe into dark matter.” The four of them turned to see Thor striding into the lab. Vidar put fist to heart at once. He relaxed when Thor acknowledged him with a nod. “He must have used it on his own people first, so that they would survive it.”

“Well, Bor managed to get the Aether away from him and wipe out the rest of Malekith’s army,” Darcy concluded. 

“Or so he thought,” said Thor grimly. “How goes your work?”

“We’ve finished the designs,” said Erik. “As to the construction…”

“It will be ready to test before week’s end, my prince,” said Vidar.

“Thank you,” said Thor. He smiled at the humans. “You must be desperate to turn your attention back to your own research. I will never be able to repay you for the Asgardian lives this will save, but I hope you will consider it time well spent.”

“Working on Asgard is going to speed up everything we’ve been doing by lifetimes,” said Jane. “A few weeks is more than a fair trade.”

X

Loki found Odin exiting the Council chambers a little past midday. “Is the meeting going well, Father?”

“Well enough.” They began walking in the direction of Odin’s study. “General Tyr is preparing to bring the Einherjar against Malekith’s ship when we locate it and we’ll be meeting with delegations from Nidavellir, Alfheim, and Vanaheim to discuss Midgard soon. What about you, Loki? No one has given you trouble since your return, I hope?”

“Not as yet. Perhaps they require a little more time to grow their courage.”

“Then they will not like what that courage brings them,” Odin growled. “What was it you wanted to speak with me about?”

Loki slipped into the nameless tongue, though no one else was in earshot. “Had Thor gone to Jotunheim and started a war, you would have stripped his power and banished him to Midgard.”

“Yes…,” said Odin. 

“His experiences there humbled him, and we have seen the results.”

“Of those and the other hardships he faced,” said Odin. He waved a hand. “I have already said I will not be doing the same to you—not even if it would help you impress the mortal sorcerers. Your position is still too precarious.”

“I know,” said Loki quickly. “I do not raise the matter on my own account. Not this time. I only wonder…” He trailed off.

“What?” said Odin. 

“I wonder if it might be a better solution than Niflheim.”

Chapter Text

Odin stopped in his tracks. Anger flared brightly over his aged features at first but soon gave way to pain and sorrow. “Hela.” He closed his eye and started walking again. Loki tentatively kept pace with him, digging at the palm of one hand with the fingers of the other. He didn’t want to be the first to break the silence, but he also didn’t want his father to simply walk out of the conversation. It wasn’t until they were before the grand balcony overlooking the city that Odin spoke again. “Her situation is not the same as Thor’s.”

It wasn’t an outright rejection of Loki’s suggestion. That was encouraging. “I understand that, Father. She may well deserve to spend the rest of her days on Niflheim for her crimes, but if we cannot count on the place to hold her, would it not be preferable for you to alter her sentence on your terms before she finds an opportunity to do it on hers?”

Odin splayed his hands on the balustrade. “I cannot banish her to Midgard. Her power grows with her proximity to Asgard. The limitations I could put on it would not suffice at so short a distance. Not to mention that an angry former Crown Princess of Asgard on the loose would be sure to undo the work you and your brother did to gain the mortals’ trust.”

“A different realm, then,” said Loki, who already considered Midgard a poor choice for the latter reason, though the former seemed more pressing now that Odin voiced it. “One without unpleasant memories of her and far enough away to curb her power. There must be a suitable place to host her probation.”

Odin regarded Loki. “You have never met your sister. Thor has. Why are you not united with him in insisting that her death at my hand is the only way to address the threat she presents? Even your mother agrees with him.”

Loki shrugged. “We’ve already changed so much using Thor’s information. Perhaps I merely want to see the extent of what is possible.”

Odin harrumphed. “Your ambitions may already be leaving that territory behind. I know Hela. I made her what she is. The more she grew into her strength, the more I encouraged her cruelest instincts.” He looked out over the balcony. “Not just encouraged. I shared them.”

“Yet you changed,” Loki pointed out. “So did Thor.” So did I, from what might have been, he thought. “Turning aside from a history of bloodthirsty warmongering is nearly a family tradition at this point.”

That got a chuckle out of Odin. “What a pleasant notion.” He sighed. “I fear your plan can only end in the same place, Loki: with a father who must find the will to slay his daughter to protect his people.” He patted Loki’s shoulder. “You are kind to wish to spare me this outcome when I laid every stone in the road leading to it with my own hands.”

“It may still come to that end,” said Loki. “Yet if she does prove to be beyond all hope of improvement, at least you would know it for certain before confronting her.”

X

First thing after a delicious breakfast, Bruce had taken Betty on a tour of Asgard in a flying boat. It wasn’t hard to stay wide awake, even though she’d barely slept with such a breathtaking night sky to look at from her balcony. Everything about this place was incredible, but the real treat came later, when they went to the queen’s garden. She’d never imagined, let alone seen, such a diverse array of flora before. There was so much to learn and discover here; she hardly knew where to start.

The royal gardeners tending to the different plants were incredibly knowledgeable about them and patiently indulged her avalanche of questions. They even seemed gratified by her interest, like they weren’t used to being asked anything beyond the name of the planet a particular specimen was from. There were flowers that had their own heat-retention systems enabling them to survive at temperatures far below anything on Earth, vines adapted to growing in almost zero gravity, and trees that bore different fruit each year depending on which of their system’s three suns was dominant. 

It wouldn’t even have occurred to Betty to pause to have lunch, but the palace staff brought their food to them. Word must have gotten back to the kitchens how excited she was about the Xandarian fruit trees, because some of the second solar harvest fruit was included in the spread. The flavor was somewhere between pomegranate and pineapple, and it was so juicy that it was impossible to eat politely.

Unlike her greenhouses at Culver, the alien plants were maintained in magical energy fields that replicated their native soil, atmosphere, and light conditions perfectly. In a feat of truly ingenious landscaping, it all somehow blended seamlessly together. 

“Bruce Banner!” They turned to see a tall, armor-clad, broad-shouldered man striding between the magical flowerbeds towards them with a jovial and hopeful expression. 

“Hey, Geir,” said Bruce. His tone was wary for some reason.