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Chapter Text

Angry, biter words resonated inside the Observatory. The Allfather, despite his display of anger, wasn’t expressing the whole extent of his wrath before his sons, but that didn’t make the scene less intimidating. Loki stood aside, looking uneasily at the other two men as they reminded him of all the times on which, as a child, he had to swallow his tears when such fights occurred, lest he would be the next in line for a reprimand for not acting as a warrior should. Later he would always resent Thor for always being the cause of so much discomfort, and yet manage to always being the favorite one.

Now that they were adults that terror had given way to an uncomfortable knot in his stomach. He had learned to deal with Thor’s miscreant behavior and steer him out from trouble, but this time luck didn’t seem to be on Loki’s side, with the fate of two kingdoms at stake.

Father and son’s tempers clashed like two tidal waves, and whoever tried to stop them would risk being washed away. Only Frigga, the Queen, would calm the storm with her mere presence. But Odin’s wife wasn’t there, and thus it had to be Loki the one to take matters on his hands, one way or another.

“While you wait and be patient, the Nine Realms laugh at us!” hollered Thor. “The old ways are done. You'd stand giving speeches while Asgard falls!”

That had definitely gone too far! Loki’s mind raced, thinking of a way to make them stop and not divert their fury towards him. Only one thing occurred to him, a simple spell he had practiced back on Midgard, but that he had never dared to cast on Thor.

“You're a vain, greedy, cruel boy!” Odin accused.

That was now or never! With a flick of his wrist, he conjured the silent spell and watched Thor’s lips sealing mid-sentence.

“And you ar-” Thor’s retort was cut short as his lips sealed together, rendering him mute.

“LOKI!” the Allfather bellowed.

“Father-”

“How dare you interrupt a discussion between your elders?” Odin’s right hand trembled slightly from sheer rage.

“This needs to end,” Loki said, trying his best to keep his calm now that the fury was, as he feared, directed at him. “I couldn’t stop him from going to Jotunheim, yet I couldn’t let him go unguarded.”

Odin glared at him. Since he could remember, the Allfather had been an intimidating force, capable, with a single glance, of choking the words in his throat. Loki didn’t know what force had possessed him that time to be able to speak, but part of him was starting to regret his decision.

“You couldn’t stop him,” Odin repeated, slowly, in a disdainful tone. “You? The one who could persuade a Frost Giant to light a fire and sit on it?”

Loki swallowed hard. He was at a loss for words. It was true that he had arranged for the failed coronation, that he had knowingly struck the right chords on Thor’s mind afterwards so he would do something reckless that would push back his official investiture; but he had never foreseen that one of those brutes would insult Thor. The rest was all too predictable. Thor’s pride was as tender as thick and hard was his skull and a simple name calling was enough to awaken his ire.

“You wanted this to happen, didn’t you?” Odin asked, far too knowingly. The iciness in his voice pierced him deeper than any weapon as the Allfather slowly stepped towards him. “You stood idle while your brother plunged head first into a dangerous situation and only sent Heimdall for me when the damage was already done, when you could have gone to me first and foremost before treading through the ice of Jotunheim.

“You disappoint me, Loki” he continued, stopping at an arm’s reach from his son. Despite his calm tone, the Allfather gripped Gungnir so hard his knuckles grew white. “I always thought you too wise to fall prey to envy. You wanted to appear as the sensible one, the all too responsible brother who couldn’t help being swept along and only acted out of the uttermost loyalty.”

Loki swallowed hard. It was seldom him the one who got into trouble with Odin. His yearning to be the perfect son would push him to never make a mistake, so his father would see some day that he was fit for the throne as much as Thor, if not more. However, he saw all his hopes vanishing in an instant.

Silently, Odin walked back to the center of the Observatory and, plunging Gungnir into the control panel, turned it to life. The turret above their heads groaned as it turned, and the ground shook as the Bifrost energy built up around them.

“Loki Odinson,” the Allfather’s clear voice thundered over the cacophony of the transportation device. “You have permitted disobeying the express command of your King,” the Bifrost’s energy built up until it almost peaked. Now the energy made their garments billow around them. “Through your treacherous and egoistical behavior you have put in danger your own kin that you sworn to defend with your life, and have helped exposing these peaceful Realms and their innocent people to the horrors and desolation of war.”

The three last words were almost shouted by the Allfather. Loki could hear the portal opening with a loud roar behind him, but he could neither move nor react. His eyes were fixed on his father’s face, his silent fury badly restrained.

“I hereby,” the Allfather extended his hand. “Take from you your powers.”

Wind swirled around Loki as his father spoke and he doubled in pain. Out of the corner of his eye, he had seen Thor struggling to run towards him, but he had barely any time to register it. Then he heard his brother’s voice, and knew his powers were sealed. He wanted to scream, but forced himself to not let a single groan escape his lips.

“In the name of my father,” Loki felt his armor disappearing in the whirlwind. “And of his father before, I cast you out!”

The wind tore him away from the Observatory into the open vortex. The last thing he saw was his brother, running towards him with his hands outstretched.

xxxxXX-0-XXxxxx

He landed on a ground of sand and dirt. It hadn’t been a smooth traveling, swerving without control and with no idea of what his destiny would be. For all he knew, the Allfather could have sent him to Muspelheim without so much of a second thought but, as events unfolded during the following seconds, Loki didn’t have much time to fully assess the situation as he would have liked.

He tried standing on his feet, despite the dizziness and the dirt making him cough. It was pitch black, except for a set of lights approaching him at great speed. He made to dodge whatever it was about to run him over, but the vehicle swerved and hit him with its side.

“Motorcards… rudimentary… Midgard,” were the loose thought he could conjure in the split second before he was hit and darkness enveloped him again.

He heard hurried steps approaching him.

“I think it was legally your fault!” a woman’s voice said behind him. They spoke English, a Midgardian language.

“Shut up and get the first aid kit!” a second woman replied angrily.

Small hands turned him on his back and cupped his face.

“Please,” the second woman’s voice said above him. “Do me a favor and don’t be dead!”

He opened his eyes with a groan. The vehicle’s lights illuminated the young female human crouching at his side. It would take more than being run over by a vehicle to actually hurt him, and the fact that he had almost lost consciousness was more due to him having his powers sealed and his travel through the Bifrost, or so he wanted to believe. He wished to calm that young lady with such information, but the word started spinning around him.

“Wow,” the first woman said. Loki couldn’t see her. “Does he need CPR? ‘cause I totally know CPR.”

He groaned, closing his eyes again. Theatricals had always been his forte, but his current headache didn’t need any rehearsal.

“Where did he come from?” the woman next to him asked to a man standing behind her. Then she took Loki’s arm to help him to his feet, but out of the blue she darted away. “Oh my god, Erik… look at this!”

The man named Erik quickly grabbed Loki by the shoulders to support him and asked if he was all right.

“So much for helping the injured,” Loki thought.

What had distracted the young woman was nothing but the mark the Bifrost always left each time it was used. It served as a visual beacon to help pinpoint the Rainbow Bridge for the following connection. Of course, on Realms where the weather was less than welcoming the mark always got covered or erased before it was time to return to Asgard. Loki had suggested at some point that it would be better to leave a luminous sign only visible to Asgardian eyes, but he was always rebutter on the basis that magic was too risky; furthermore, a geometrical pattern on the ground looked more natural, as if someone had drawn it for their own amusement. Loki doubted very much that anyone would consider “natural” that one of their fellow citizens had such fanciful distractions but, seeing how proud Heimdall was of the patterns he had designed, he didn’t voice his opinion on the matter.

“We’ve got to move fast before anything changes!” the young woman exclaimed as she took out a small contraption from her bag and pointed it towards the ground.

Loki, sensing his dizziness disappearing, disengaged from Erik and staggered back some steps. Seeing that these people used something akin to electrical torches instead of oil lamps, and combustion vehicles instead of horse-drawn carriages gave him some ideas.

“Shouldn’t we bring him to a hospital?” the man asked the woman with the contraption, his eyes never leaving Loki. He spoke English too, but he had an accent Loki couldn’t quite locate yet. He had spent too many years away from Midgard.

“It’ll take too long,” she said, still busy with her gizmos. “We need soil samples before it gets blown away and-”

“Who are you?” Loki asked in a panicked voice.

“Are you all right, son?” Erik put his hands up and didn’t try to approach him. “My name is Erik Selvig, this here,” he pointed to the woman analyzing the soil. “Is Jane and the one with the first aid kit is Darcy.”

Erik then took a step towards him, but Loki stepped back.

“Take it easy, son, we are friends,” Selvig assured. “Tell us what happened to you.”

During those brief instants Loki could observe the man and the two women. Jane was now looking at them, as was Darcy, who held a small white metallic box close to her chest.

“I…” he lowered his eyes and grimaced, then he clutched his head. “I… can’t… I…”

“Oh, God, amnesia,” Darcy murmured.

“Jane!” Selvig put one of his arms around Loki’s shoulders for support again. “He needs medical attention now! Leave that and help us!”

He closed his eyes, and left his “rescuers” do. Erik helped him into the vehicle, while Darcy started the engine. Jane hopped in just as they started moving.

Hospitals were a more or less safe place, and Loki knew it. They were ideal to spend a night and collect your thoughts or just seek a safe haven for a few hours. It was also quite convenient that he had found out good-willed people, since he couldn’t use his powers to shield himself from hostile eyes. But what Odin couldn’t seal was his brain. That was the main difference between the two brothers: If you stripped Thor off his strength and Mjolnir or the weapons he had been using before he inherited it, what remained? Only his charm when dealing with maidens (which, in some cases, was debatable), and his bravado. Loki, however, had his wits and his way with words.

He feigned losing consciousness as soon as he sat inside the vehicle, so he could have enough time to observe the various attempt at advanced technology, but which looked more like the electronic experiments Thor and him made under the surveillance of their tutors when they are infants.

His rescuers’ conversation was hushed and scarce at first, mostly dealing with Darcy’s driving skills and how the girl had run him over, to what Darcy rebutted that it had been Jane’s fault in the first place for plunging them into the base of a supernatural lightning tornado at fool speed, and then swerving the wheel like she did. The argument ended when Selvig claimed the girls were giving him a headache.

Under the right circumstances, Loki would have enjoyed himself playing a prank of them to get even but, without his powers and with no way back home, he had to rely on what little help these strangers could give him. What distressed him the most was knowing that Thor was alone. Just when he needed to be restrained the most, Odin separated them. Loki could only imagine the havoc his brother’s temper could be causing at that moment in Asgard, or the things he could be yelling at the Allfather while drunk with rage.

Brother…

Where they brothers after all?

The moment that Frost Giant grabbed his arm kept playing in his mind. His skin should have been burnt from the extreme cold which disintegrated his armor, but he didn’t feel any pain. Instead, his skin turned blue, and swirling patterns appeared along his arm, like those of the Frost Giants. It had slowly disappeared as soon as the contact broke, but that Giant had seen it, and the both stopped their fight for a fraction of a second and locked their eyes. There was a silent question in the fierce Giant’s face, one that Loki silenced with a dagger through the heart.

But that question kept repeating inside his mind.

What if…

Chapter Text

He sensed the vehicle jerking to a stop; he then heard Selvig opening a door and calling out for help. Soon, Loki felt himself being carefully moved to a stretcher and rolled into the hospital.

Once inside he feigned regaining consciousness, if only to have some control of what tests they might want to run on him.

Hospitals had changed a great deal since the last time he had been in Midgard, and so did doctors and their procedures. A surge of panic almost made him lose his composure at some point when the doctors mentioned a head scan to rule out any internal damage he might have. However, he willingly subjected, knowing that it would be better than being sedated and tied up to a bed.

Thankfully, the scan came out clear and there were no uncomfortable questions asked about his origins. Once doctors were satisfied with the immediate tests, and while they waited for the results on the other ones, like blood and urine, they left him alone in a room.

His headache had almost disappeared when a nurse came into the room with a tray of food. Loki tried to start a conversation, as the young man left his supper for him to eat, but the nurse said he was too busy. However, he promised to stay a bit with him after his shift if he needed it.

Loki wasn’t a fool. He had heard conversations while they tried to get him into ER about his lack of identity. They had given him a wrist tag with the name John Doe and a series of numbers. Of course a nurse would stay with him and chat him up. Amnesia and no identity often spelled trouble. Back when Queen Victoria reigned in England is was far easier to pull this stunt, but apparently now humanity had developed electronic files, and Loki knew all too well how efficient they could be.

He needed to get out before they called the authorities; but not before he could learn something about Midgard and on which country he had landed in.

The nurse’s name was Marco. He was polite and quite helpful, and probably exceeded on his career, but he was no adept interrogator. Loki used his amnesia with prudence, and played the young nurse like a fiddle to learn almost everything he needed, like the current year (almost a century since his last visit), the state of the world and the two World Wars plus the nuclear crisis that almost erased any trace of life in that planet and, last but not least, the existence of augmented humans who had risen as heroes.

But aside from that, Loki also learned about the staff’s shifts and, when his curiosity was finally sated, he feigned feeling drowsy. The nurse then let him alone and closed the door behind him.

The perks of being able to talk before throwing any punch was, among other things, that people didn’t think of you as threatening, in the worst of cases. They hadn’t called for the Sheriff yet, thinking of him as just a harmless, homeless man.

As he waited, that musing took root in his mind. How ironic that he could ask himself the same question: Who am I?

Odin knew it had been Thor’s temper what had caused this situation. Perhaps he had sensed someone traveling to Jotunheim in the prior days and suspected him for that?

Then his arm turning blue flashed in his mind, and a doubt spread in his heart. He had always suspected himself different from his brother. Frigga, their mother, always quenched that doubts telling him that each person has different gifts, and that Loki’s was one of power beyond imagination.

All his life he had been taught that his father had defeated the Frost Giants when they had tried to conquer Midgard. The Asgardians had taken Earth under their protection and pushed the Giants back to Jotunheim, where they were finally defeated and stripped from their greater source of power: The Cask of Ancient Winters.

Was it the only thing they took?

Suddenly, realization pierced him like a knife to the chest. What if Odin suspected Loki had learned the truth and exiled him because of that? Jotunheim was forbidden for a reason other than to keep the peace treaty, the Realm was banned especially to him. Not that it had been the first time he had visited that place, but he had always kept his distance from its inhabitants.

Why taking and then discarding him as if he wasn’t worthy anymore? Why fostering and having him growing up with Odin’s true son to then sending him away once the Allfather suspected that Loki could have uncovered the truth?

All those questions plagued him endlessly, as he waited for the hall outside his room to be empty. It was well into the night when he finally sensed enough silence outside to attempt going away. Hopping off his bed, Loki put back his old, tattered clothes and walked quietly through the corridors, searching for an exit. He could swear he heard the voices of the people who had found him echoing through the hallways, but dismissed it as an aftereffect of tiredness and agitation.

Once outside he realized he wasn’t done: He had no vehicle, and distances seemed very long in that place. He stayed long enough to see the first prototypes of combustion cars, but he had never attempted to drive one, and he feared the current ones were far too primitive for him to feign owning one. He entertained the idea of stealing one, but discarded it when he saw a sentry box at the hospital’s entrance, and the black semi-spheres installed at intervals, which were surely surveillance cameras.

He strutted casually among the cars, feeling exposed, and at the same time searching for a way to escape far and fast. So distracted he was he neither heard, nor saw the van reversing just when he was about to cross through an intersection. He felt the spare wheel hitting him on his side, knocking the wind out of him and making him fall unconscious a second time.

xxxxXX-0-XXxxxx

When he opened his eyes, he was laying on the backseat of a familiar vehicle. Still, he didn’t fully open his eyes yet.

“Sure he doesn’t need CPR?”

“Darcy, will you knock it out?” Jane’s voice snapped.

“Fine, but you are angry because I’m voicing your thoughts,” he could picture Darcy smiling as she said that. He hoped that women, in the last century, had become loser at expressing themselves, and that those taunts were commonplace among normal people. Mingling with lowlifes would make it harder for him to carry out his plans.

He groaned loud enough so that his hosts noticed he was listening and sat up, rubbing the arm the van had hit.

“How are you feeling, son?” asked Selvig. Somehow, his tone was a bit less than amiable.

“Dizzy… weren’t you taking me to a hospital?” he was sure that, even with his powers sealed, he was bound to be more resilient than the average human, but if such rough treatment continued he might suffer some consequences.

“Actually,” said Darcy. “We are taking you from the hospital.”

“You were wandering in the street anyway,” Jane pointed out.

“Yes, I was trying to get away and then…” he feigned a confused frown. “What happened then?”

“You tripped,” Darcy hastily.

“Yeah, you tripped,” echoed Jane, her cheeks bright red. “And then we had to…”

“We supposed you were out from the hospital and didn’t want go back so, since it was only a little bump, we decided to take you with us,” ended Darcy.

Under normal circumstances, he would have played a prank to get even, a very good one. But said normal circumstances involved being still a prince in Asgard, and that the ones responsible for his discomfort had intentionally harmed him. There was also the fact that he depended upon these people to get somewhere; it was true they hadn’t been the best of hosts so far, but at least they seemed honest and clueless enough to serve his plans.

“Still can’t remember your name?” asked Jane, wanting to change the subject.

“What if we name him?” Darcy said before Loki could say anything.

“Darcy…” Selvig warned.

“But he needs a name,” she protested. “We can’t call him ‘hey dude’ all the time! And John Doe sounds like a hitman movie name.”

“Robert will suffice,” Loki said, bringing the discussion to a halt.

“Robert it is, then,” Jane nodded. “So, tell us, Robert, how did you arrive here?”

“You can’t expect me to remember how I got here if I can barely recall my own name,” he chuckled.

“Yeah, you’re right,” she corrected herself. “But we have some photos that might refresh your mind.”

“Photography has gotten that far?” he wondered, but he said aloud: “I’d rather have a shower first, please.”

xxxxXX-0-XXxxxx

He turned the water as cold as he could and stepped inside, but quickly jumped out, cursing and shivering, and turned the tap to hot. Nothing had happened to his skin except for the appearance of goose bumps. Either he needed a much lower temperature or his Jotun nature had been sealed away along with his magic.

As soon as the water was warm enough he stepped into the shower, letting it trickle down his neck and back as he tried relaxing his aching muscles.

If the Allfather had not only sealed his powers, but also changed his body to make him a Midgardian, that would explain all that had happened in the last hours, especially the fact that the doctors hadn’t found anything “wrong” with him when looking at the head scans. He would age, wither and die like any other mortal, but he wouldn’t curl up in a corner, alone and forgotten. He had left the means during his last stay on Earth in case he needed a haven. He only had to contact the right people, something he had been planning on doing anyway after the coronation, just to renew the data and have another century planned ahead, just in case.

The clothes Jane had provided him to substitute his burnt and tattered ones were a bit saggy, especially the shirt, but he wasn’t about to complain. There would be time to buy new ones.

It had been a relief when they had given him their names and what they did for a living. They were scientists, occupied with the study of the Universe (or the small part they were aware of). Jane exceeded on her field but, as her father before her, and as many others before them, the scientific community overlooked their findings, labeling them as “eccentric” in the best of cases. He shook his head as he dressed up, thinking about how little Humanity had changed.

The sound of Jane’s excited conversation with Selvig reached him, a conversation which didn’t stop even when he came out of the bathroom.

“I feel your friend might feel offended if you lend me his clothes,” Loki told her, stopping her enthusiastic dissertation.

“Friend?” Jane made a face, then she blushed when he presented the nametag with ‘Donald Blake, M.D.’ scribbled on it. “Oh, yeah,” she exclaimed, yanking the nametag from his hand and tearing it to pieces while giggling nervously. “That was my ex. Good with patients and very bad with relationships.”

“I’m sorry to bring this up-”

“Oh, nonono!” she opened the small book she carried as if searching for something, just a ruse to conceal her nervousness. “Sure you don’t remember anything?”

He stared pensively at the board with photographs, charts and all sort of diagrams. In one of the pictures one could see the image of the Bifrost’s core with a humanoid shape in the center: his body as he was about to land on Midgard.

All the equipment displayed across the room was quite impressive, according to what Loki had seen a century ago, but he refused to comment on it, not knowing what the normal technology would be during those years. It was still a fact that, any piece of equipment he had seen during his short stay was still a child’s toy to Asgardian standards.

Jane kept chatting and pacing to and fro, displaying energy levels her companions lacked. Selvig sat near the board, while Darcy nursed a cup of a steaming coffee at one of the computers (Loki deduced the beverage was such a thing, but he wasn’t that sure). Loki casually walked near the girl and sat beside her, still looking at the board.

“Does she always act like that?” he whispered to Darcy.

“Only when she thinks she has found something,” the girl muttered, stifling a yawn. “She’s also high with caffeine. Don’t know how she can pull two all-nighters and still be that fresh. Selvig sometimes thinks she’s gonna pass out at any moment.”

Loki looked around them: They were in a spacious room where, instead of solid walls, huge windows let them see the village around them from all sides except the wall where there was the bathroom and the stairs to the upper floor. The sun was rising, bathing the whole space in a golden light. Outside, the villagers were slowly waking up and returning to their daily routine. Jane kept recounting her findings and her calculations, while Erik and Darcy waited in respectful silence, seemingly used to such displays.

Speaking to mortals about the Bifrost or the secrets from Asgard was strictly forbidden. Midgardians had always been considered a technologically inferior race and, as such, better left on superstitious beliefs rather than disclosing a truth they weren’t prepared for yet.

But this mortal girl, this Jane Foster, not only knew about the Bifrost: she could actually predict the disturbances that its usage and its routine recalibration caused in their atmosphere, and actively sought them out. Now she had discovered it and she seemed to know it was a portal to another place. She gave it another name, an Einstein-Rosen Bridge, but she knew the truth. And she had that unwavering determination he knew oh so well.

“So you think I’m that dark shadow?” he asked, pointing at the photo.

“What else?” she said excitedly. “There was no one else with you, and we had been there all night long without seeing or hearing another car.”

That a human could understand the way Asgardians travelled between Realms opened many possibilities. However, he still chose to be cautious; that they had seen the Bifrost didn’t grant they would believe that Asgard existed.

“Which reminds me,” said Darcy, seemingly coming to life and typing something. “That you need an identity.”

“What?”

“They asked us for your ID at the hospital but we said we didn’t know you. You are lucky to have gotten out of that place. Without an ID they would have kept you there and called the police.”

“Where do you come from?” Erik asked. It had been the first time he had spoken to him that morning, and even when his tone was soft, his gesture was far from friendly.

“I mean,” Darcy kept talking. “In case you are an alien, of course. You need papers to go around here.”

“Darcy,” Jane laughed. “Next you’ll tell him to get a mortgage too.”

“I’m afraid my former identity cannot be used anymore,” said Loki, which was the whole truth.

“Cool, I can get you a new one!”

Jane rushed to Darcy’s side and stopped her typing.

“It’s okay!” Darcy protested. “No one’ll notice it, especially if they aren’t looking for… whoever he really is.”

Loki scratched his head and smiled wryly.

“Maybe the alien story would be easier to believe,” he said.

“Try us,” Erik crossed his arms over his chest.

Letting go of a deep sigh, he started his story with a question:

“Have you ever heard of Presbury&Norwood?”

Darcy shook her head, but Erik nodded.

“What has a lawyers’ firm to do with this?”

“My real name is Robert Conrad Norwood, I am the great-grandson of Albert Bertram Norwood.”

A spark of recognition softened Erik’s countenance. The man uncrossed his arms and opened his mouth to speak, but only held Loki’s gaze. Darcy typed furiously at her computer and let out a gasp.

“They are like copies!” she said, her eyes going from the screen to Loki’s face.

Erik sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

“I knew you looked familiar,” he sighed.

“Do you know him?” said Jane, who still held her notebook to her chest as if it was the most precious thing in the world.

“I spent some time in England when I was younger,” said the man, taking a seat again and looking somewhat defeated. “Everyone named Norwood was taunted about being the ‘lost heir’ and some of them joked about claiming the will.”

“It says that whoever inherits it will be almost as rich as Tony Stark,” Darcy, whose eyes seemed glued to the screen, exclaimed. “Not bad, Jane. You wanted to catch an alien and caught a rich dude instead.”

“That is, if he can prove he’s old Albert’s flesh and blood,” said Erik.

“So that’s why you have been living with a false identity?” Darcy asked.

Loki nodded.

“Some people have been after us ever since I can remember. I was only told everything I needed to know very recently and I’ve been on the run ever since. When you found me, I was running from some people who… let us say, double-crossed me. I escaped and got lost in the desert, and you know the rest.”

“Will they come for us?” Jane asked.

“I don’t think so,” Loki laughed. Perhaps his story had been too extreme. It worked better in medieval times. “They probably think me dead.”

“Well, we can fix that,” said Darcy, while rummaging on a bag. “I can’t give you physical documents, but I can arrange your record.”

“She’s a hacker,” Jane said as explanation.

Loki nodded, having no idea of what it meant, but a hunch told him it could be the equivalent to the forgers he had met in London’s underworld.

Darcy took out a black, hand-sized device from her bag and told him to stand with his back against the only wall in the room. His picture taken, Darcy sauntered back to another computer, plugged the black device in and began working.

Loki edged towards the screen with information about the Norwood family. There was Arthur, standing alongside his partner James Presbury at their office’s door; he would inquire later what had become of James. He had been an intelligent young man, but one whose talented mind never gave way to vanity. Wisdom was a quality Loki valued over anything else, if only because it was so seldom found in any Realm.

The text said the brand disappeared during the early nineties of the 21^st Century, but Loki had been prepared in case such a thing happened, and all his personal wealth and financial actives were separate from the firm.

The three humans seemed to have believed him or, at least, Erik didn’t have any argument against his story, which was better than nothing. Darcy asked him several questions to create an identity for him, starting with the birth certificate. It was good luck that New York still existed, as well as its university, and that degrees in law were still in vogue. With such short lifespan, one never knew what could happen the next hundred years.

Once the data was complete, Darcy announced happily that he was Robert Conrad Norwood again, and that he only had to apply for new physical documents since he had “lost” the original ones.

His identity solved, Darcy proposed to treat Robert for some breakfast, since she was sure he must have been starving. Erik said nothing beyond a noncommittal grunt as he was on his feet, while Jane simply took his jacket and headed for the door before anyone did.

Breakfast was anything but silent, except for Jane; even Selvig engaged in conversation, as table manners demanded. The man seemed to have left aside his prejudices, or maybe he wanted to adopt a more subtle tactic and get to know him through conversation.

Loki couldn’t help stealing some glances at Jane. She had only ordered a coffee which sat, untouched, still steaming on the table. He couldn’t help feeling sorry for the girl (an adult woman by human standards, but to him she was just beginning to live): being on the brink of a History changing discovery, to see that it was nothing but a case of list inheritances that newspapers liked so much. “Robert” wished he could tell her she was right, but it wouldn’t do.

At least not for the moment.

But fate had it that trouble would keep following him wherever he went. Several townspeople, regular clients judging how they greeted the owner, entered the café. One of them, a burly middle aged man, approached the table, and told Jane some men in black suits were dismantling her laboratory and loading everything in trucks. The young scientist sprung to her feet and dashed out of the café; Darcy and Erik interchanged a brief glance before hurrying after Jane, and Loki had no other option except chasing after them.

True to what the men at the café had said, men in black suits and sunglasses were busy loading Jane’s equipment in several trucks. They moved with the precision of an army, and Loki observed that each and every one of them were trained for combat. He also observed that were women among them, but their identical clothes and their grooming made them almost identical too their male colleagues.

When he arrived, Jane had already stormed inside the building and was voicing quite loudly her displeasure at who appeared to be the leader.

The man was of average build. In fact, everything about him looked average to the untrained eye: Just another bureaucrat  doing as he was told. He stood with his hands neatly folded before him, showing a polite smile, rehearsed to perfection, completely undaunted by the small woman’s display of fury. That man couldn’t fool Loki, or any other who knew their way around combat or politics: That man was dangerous.

“Miss Foster,” he said with a soft voice. “I’m Agent Coulson, with SHIELD.”

Loki didn’t know anything about modern intelligence agencies, but something in that name made Selvig jump to Jane and pull her aside to whisper something in her hear.

“I don’t care who they are,” she said aloud, stubbornly shaking away from Selvig’s grasp. “This is my life’s work! You can’t do this!”

Coulson had made a sign when Selvig pulled Jane aside, and two men stood right behind Loki and Darcy. He felt his muscles tense. This was neither the place nor the moment for a fight.

“We’re investigating a security threat,” Coulson continued before Jane could keep with her protests. “We need to appropiate your equipment and all your atmospheric data.”

“By appropriate you mean steal?”

Coulson produced a blank check and gave it to Jane, but that didn’t seem to placate her.

“This should more than compensate you for your trouble,” he said.

“I can’t buy replacements!” she roared. “I made most of the equipment myself!”

“Then you can build them again,” Coulson retorted calmly. Despite being talking to Jane, his eyes never left Loki, who noticed how the two men at his back edged closer.

“You don’t get it!” she yelled, flailing her arms in frustration. “We are on the verge of understanding something extraordinary! Everything I know about this phenomenon is in this lab and in this book,” she said, almost shoving sais book in Selvig’s face. “No one has the right to take it from me.”

As if to add insult to injury, Coulson made a sign with his hand to passing agent, who snatched the notebook from Jane’s hand in one fluid movement. Jane made to lunge at the man, but Selvig grabbed her shoulders.

“As for you, Mister John Doe,” Coulson said with polite coldness. “You must accompany us.”

“Why?” Jane roared.

“He might be involved in the security threat I mentioned before, Doctor Foster, as you and your team already suspected,” he said locking an icy glare on her.

“Actually-”

Darcy’s voice was cut by Selvig. Loki smiled wryly at Coulson, but his gesture was due to Erik’s impatience at getting rid of him.

He stepped forward and, when he was at Jane’s side, he whispered: “Search for the ancient legends of Asgard and the Bifrost for the time being. Sometimes science mingles with myth.”

“Mister Coulson,” he turned to the agent, mustering his most civil voice. “I’m glad that you, of all people take interest in my situation, and I hope we can help each other.”

The agent’s smile faltered but an instant. Soon he composed himself and ushered him to a black vehicle, where he would be escorted to their encampment. His heart dropped a bit when he saw Jane covering her face and Selvig trying to comfort her. Loki had done what was in his power to help her, and wondered if their paths would cross again.

Chapter Text

The SHIELD encampment sat surrounding the arrival area. The site of the landing had been covered with a gigantic white tent and, though security was tight, he could spy people coming in and out of that tent, dressed in insulating suits, and all around were armed soldiers with their weapons at the ready. Coulson assigned one such soldier to guard Loki: a tall, hard-eyed woman who spoke no words and showed exceptional commitment to his job, not leaving the visitor’s side one second.

They held him for questioning for a long time. Agent Coulson would come into the room and ask some questions, then go away for several hours at a time and then return to ask the same questions but with different words and in different order. Loki didn’t mind them following him around, or spying on his records. He took pleasure on following Coulson’s games, as one adult might do with a child trying to teach him a well-known game.

Finally, Coulson’s patience ran thin, and the man openly confronted Loki about his supposed heritage and his past.

“You know,” he said, opening a folder with a printed file of Tyler Ellis, Loki’s fake identity until he assumed that of Robert C. Norwood. “One would think that a wealthy man like your great-grandfather would have left his fortune to his offspring, not to some descendant in the distant future.”

“The old man was very strange,” Loki shrugged. “Even so, he didn’t leave his family unprepared. We never wanted for anything.”

“Y’know? Something that surprises me is your accent. The registry says you were born in New York, but you sound pretty British to me.”

Loki shrugged.

“My family was peculiar.”

“You must have had a lot of trouble at school for that.”

“You don’t want to know.”

“Returning to our questions, wouldn’t your grandfather want to reclaim the inheritance? Why skip to the fourth generation?”

“I asked myself the same. I confronted my father while he lay on his dead bed, but he gave no reply and he took the secret to his tomb. I’m afraid I cannot answer you this time, only that I need to contact the notary at London and prove that I’m Norwood’s descendant.”

Coulson seemed to ponder his words for a moment.

“It seems like it’s dangerous for you to be out there,” he wanted to call Loki’s bluff. “What would you say if we could bring someone from that notary over here to question you?” his smile vanished before Loki’s enthusiastic response.

“Could you do that?” Loki sprung off his chair. “Oh, this is wonderful! At last my luck changes! Thank you so much, Mr. Coulson!” he exclaimed, shaking the agent’s hand earnestly.

“Ok, ok,” the other extricated himself from Loki’s handshake. “But I can’t promise you anything.”

“But it would take some time, wouldn’t it?” Loki continued, not letting the other say a word. “Will you retain me here until then?”

“You said that someone attacked you.”

“That’s what I supposed,” he shrugged. He had told Coulson a very different version of his back story, leaving forgeries and identity thefts out of it. “I already told you that I have no other justification to what happened to me. I don’t know, maybe they got what they thought they needed and left me alone, that’s the only explanation as to why they didn’t kill me already.”

“So, your fortune is gone, then?”

“No,” he laughed. “No one except me can reclaim it. My great-grandfather was very thorough, I assure you.”

Coulson didn’t seem too pleased with how things had transpired and, despite his professional façade, Loki noticed the man’s frustration. Those agents and soldiers were probably seeking any anomaly left by the Bifrost, but they would find none, except that the soil had been burnt.

Probably wishing to get rid of their visitor, now that they had found out that he had nothing to do with any anomaly, Coulson phoned Selvig so he could pick him up and take him away. Judging by the agent’s words, Selvig didn’t seem too happy either.

They escorted him out of the interrogation room, and inside another tent near the encampment’s site. There, other agents were busy working of their computers, and the atmosphere was tenser than he would have expected. So much for a wild-goose chase.

His escort didn’t leave his side, however. The silent woman stood at an arm’s reach while Loki waited patiently for Selvig to arrive in the only corner they allowed him to stay, well away from the computer’s screens. He leant against a table with several items sprawled over its surface and two cardboard boxes full of files and other miscellanea. A quick glance while he feigned a bored sigh let him see that such items had been taken from Jane’s laboratory, and that her diary sat close by.

After a while they were told that Selvig had finally arrived. Not wishing to be rude, Loki offered his hand to his guardian, with his thanks and congratulating her on a job well done. The steely eyed soldier answered almost mechanically to his handshake, but she was so befuddled by that strange man that even her stoic demeanor faltered for a second. She nodded stiffly then and walked away from him.

Loki waved her goodbye, Jane’s notebook securely tucked inside his jacket.

xxxxXX-0-XXxxxx

Instead of driving straight to the dismantled laboratory, Selvig insisted on stopping for a drink at a nearby bar. Aside from that suggestion, he was mostly silent until they were inside the place and with a beer jar on their hands. Then he broke the silence with a grunt after the first sip from his beverage.

“Thank you for taking me out of there,” Loki said.

“Don’t thank me,” Selvig answered curtly. “I did this for Jane.”

“Did she investigate what I told her?”

Selvig threw him an unfriendly glance.

“Look, boy, I don’t know if you are really a soon-to-be rich guy, someone who arrived via that Wormhole, a madman, or just a conman who takes advantage of everyone that crossed his path, but I don’t care one bit. Only Jane concerns me.”

“I don’t mean to harm her,” Loki said, knowing the path the conversation was taking. Many father figures had said similar words to him before. “I promise you.”

“Good,” Selvig said, finishing his beer in one gulp and signaling the barkeeper to serve him another.  “Drink yours, and then you go out from this city, got it?”

Loki sighed, a wry smile on his lips. That was why he had brought him there.

“So,” he said, playing with his half-emptied glass. “After growing up with stories about the Rainbow Bridge you don’t seem to believe it when you get to behold them.”

“See, Robert? That was what I was talking about! You told Jane about some old legends from my homeland and now she’s all worked up about having discovered another dimension.”

Loki’s answer was cut by a heavy hand on his shoulder. A tall, bulky and very drunken patron stood behind him.

“I know ye,” he reeked of alcohol and stale sweat. “Ye’re that guy who was with those lab girls. T’say you’re an alien.”

Loki smiled and raised his hands.

“I assure you I’m not-”

“We dun like aliens ove’ ‘ere.”

“I’m not looking for a fight.”

“No fights at my bar! You hear that, John?” yelled the barkeeper behind Loki and Erik.

The big man stood blinking, as if he didn’t understand it. Then Loki had an idea.

“What if this alien challenged you to a contest?” the patron’s tiny eyes squinted for a few seconds more, then he smiled. That seemed to make him react.

“Contest?”

“I don’t know,” Loki mused aloud, one slender finger tapping on his chin. Then he snapped his finger. “What about a speed eating contest? I’m sure a man of your size can beat someone as scrawny as myself.”

Judging by the attitude of that patron and that of those accompanying him, it was clear that he not only was a regular, but that he had caused trouble more than once. John’s companions had been listening to the conversation, surely expecting his friend to offer a bloody spectacle that night. However, a speed eating contest seemed a good enough substitute, because they roared in joy after their friend accepted. among the confusion, Loki took Selvig aside.

“How much money can you spare?”

“What!?”

“Do you wish me to leave or not?” Loki asked, nearly losing his patience. “I’ll earn enough to repay you and pay my passage to London. Would that be far enough for you?”

Selvig sighed loudly, putting fifty dollars in Loki’s hand.

“You won’t regret this,” Loki promised.

“I’m doing it already,” the scientist replied. “Sure you can do it?”

“I did it already at Skymir’s home.”

“Sky-” Selvig sputtered. “Utgard-Loki?”

“Yes, long story,” Loki said nonchalantly and he smoothed out the dollar bills on his hands. “You heard of the story by mouth of Volstagg, so obviously he got all the places and names wrong,” he tested the elasticity of his trousers’ waist. Fortunately for him they were somewhat big for him. “Long story short, I won a bet and a handsome sum of gold that night.”

With a flash of a smile he disappeared into the roaring crowd. Of course, he omitted that, aside from the gold, that night he went home with severe heartburn and had to spend a whole week reclined in bed, only able to drink apple cider vinegar in very small sips and being very careful not to move too much. But Loki wasn’t a man who let small details as those getting in the way of a good story.

“Very well, gentlemen!” he announced over the patrons’ voices as if he was the host of a competition. “It’s a speed eating contest! Each round the bet doubles and the loser gets to pay for all the food!”

Chapter Text

Jane’s laboratory wasn’t far away, but having to drag a drunken Selvig slowed him down more than he would have liked. It was a good exercise, though, one that allowed him to process all the food he had eaten that night. Loki had managed to overeat, not only the patron who had challenged him, but also two other men. A fourth contestant tried to approach and take the challenge, but the bar owner had stepped in and stopped the contest, saying that they had almost depleted his supplies. Selvig’s drunkenness (partly encouraged by Loki himself) helped blur those memories so that the scientist couldn’t recount any accurate detail of that night. Being a fast eater was one of Loki’s most prominent abilities, but also one he never told too many people about, for it could ruin many bets.

He knocked on the trailer’s door, presuming Jane to be awake, judging by the light inside. The girl opened in a hurry, and whatever she was about to say was replaced by a horrified gasp when she saw Selvig.

“Erik!” she exclaimed. “What happened?”

“He’s only drunk,” Loki chuckled. “Seems like he had his share of celebration. Where does he sleep?”

Jane hurried them inside where Loki dropped Selvig on her bed. The older man woozily opened his eyes and smiled at the girl.

“Hey Jane!” he saluted her, to then look at Loki. “I shtill can’t believe you are Loki, but you shure have a shilver tongue and a quick jaw.”

Thankfully he drifted back to sleep before he could say anything more, and Jane seemed not to have heard it.

It was only then that Loki became aware of the disarray inside the trailer, and how self-conscious Jane was al of a sudden. She tried her best to hide the mountain of dirty dishes in the sink, but throwing a rag over them nearly sent them crashing to the floor. Her agitation distracted her from seeing the stains of grease on Loki’s clothes.

To avoid her further mortification, and to let Selvig snore in peace, Loki accepted her invitation to go to the lab’s roof. Around a brazier, two beach hammocks were neatly arranged; there was a telescope nearby, and next to it was a small, folding stool served as seating. Such meager furniture was the only things that Coulson’s men had left untouched.

“I come here when I can’t sleep,” she explained as she gave him one of the blankets she had taken from the trailer. “Or when I have to reconcile particle data, or when Darcy is driving me up the wall,” she chuckled, lighting up the brazier. “Now that I think of it, I come here a lot.”

“Every brilliant mind needs a retreat,” Loki said as they sat together.

She smiled but, at the same time, she looked at him quizzically, as if trying to make out anything about him.

“I’m glad you are ok,” she said.

“Thank you,” he took something out from his jacket. “I couldn’t take anything more with me, I’m sorry.”

She looked at the small book in bewilderment.

“It’s… I…” she stammered. “It’s fantastic! Now I won’t have to start from scratch! Thank you so much!”

He handed her the book, amused by her childish enthusiasm. But her expression darkened very soon.

“What’s wrong?”

“SHIELD,” she said. “Whatever they are, they won’t let this investigation come out to the light.”

“Maybe,” he ventured. “But you are not going to let them strip you off from your life’s work, are you?”

“It’s not only mine,” she leafed absentmindedly through the book. “It’s also my father’s.”

“All the more reason to do it,” he said. “Besides, you were this close to find out the truth.”

“How do you know? You said you had nothing to do with anything of it.”

“Jane,” he hesitated. “What if I wasn’t what I told you?”

“Like a conman who only plays along with what I say?” she said, her eyes on the book, but without actually reading anything. “I heard what Erik told you on the caravan, about the quick jaw. “And now the inheritance thing. Who are you?”

“I…” he sighed. “My real name is Loki.”

“Like the norse god? The god of lies?”

“I’ve been visiting your world more than once, and that gives one time to grow certain fame. I was called the god of lies because I could conjure illusions, things that were not there. But now my magic is sealed.”

“And that’s why you look like your ancestor,” she mused. “Because it’s you.”

“The inheritance is money that I left for myself in case I wanted to spend some time here, or things went awry,” he smiled humorlessly. “It has been the latter.”

“So, Loki, then,” she extended her hand. “Please to finally meet you.”

He laughed openly.

“You never trusted a world that I said.”

“The data never lies.”

“But, even if you witnessed the Bifrost I couldn’t trust that you believed me.”

He took the book from her hands and searched for a page in particular.

“I hadn’t realized at first,” he said. “But you already have all the pieces, except one.”

“Which is…”

“Destination,” he smiled, taking the pen attached to the book. “Ever wondered where does that path would lead you?”

“Well…” she frowned, trying to remember. “The photos showed that the stars didn’t correspond to ours, so the only logical conclusion is that it leads to another place in the Universe.”

“Good enough. Now, have you read anything about what I told you?”

“Yes, I mean, what does that have to do with this? Erik was like mad, saying that those were just fairytales.”

“Maybe he won’t be saying such things in the near future,” Loki ventured, still feeling an uncomfortable pressure on his waist. “What if I told you that your Einstein-Rosen Bridge was actually the Bifrost? What if Asgard wasn’t a legend, but an advanced civilization which protected your people when they were still living in wooden cottages and hunting for a living?”

Jane looked at him wide eyed, but said nothing.

Loki chose a blank page and started writing down equations.

He spoke to her about her theory, but then he completed it with the pieces the Asgardians had uncovered millennia ago to build the Bifrost. It would have taken her an additional lifetime to reach the theory for an unstable prototype, brilliant as she was. Then he drew Iggdrassil, and the Nine Realms and spoke to her about their worlds and how Asgard had been guarding them.

Then he described Asgard: The Palace’s glorious golden spires reaching for the clear sky; the sinuous cobbled streets of the city below, which paths were broken at intervals by squares where fountains of mother-of-pearl and gold murmured their incessant, crystalline song; gardens on perennial spring, home to sweet-voiced birds from other Realms; the lakes, waterfalls, the endless green meadows outside the city; the dark and ancient forests which still held long-forgotten secrets; the intricate structures which would be impossible to recreate in any other realm, for they were supported by a magic which was ancient as Asgard itself and, as he spoke, the memories and the thoughts he had been pushing away during that day came back to him.

Without realizing it, he was describing the feeling of the breeze against his skin before the day broke and he stood on the tallest spire to behold the dawn; the play of colors on the sky and the sea as the day died and the stars appeared one by one; the crashing of emerald, aquamarine and sapphire waves on deserted beaches of white sand; the rumor of the wind when it caressed the golden and silver leaves of sacred trees, and the fruits they bore, not to be touched by mortal lips; the noisy evenings at the feasting halls, filled with the sweet aroma of mead and roasting meat, and with the sound of crackling fires, of laugher, music and songs about heroic deeds, and how sometimes it was best to get out into the chilly air to clear one’s head from the liquor’s influence, to then linger into the night’s serene embrace until it was time to reenter into the suffocating atmosphere and start over again, or wander far away, to where silence would allow either some peaceful recollection or aimless drifting of the mind.

It all came to him, all those cherished days of careless youth, when the Universe itself seemed to bow to them: the two princes of Asgard, Mjolnir and Sorcery, power and cunning combined in an unstoppable force, or so they had believed in their conceit. Everything was now lost to him, all that he had known and loved dearly, for Odin had forsaken him without any hope of redemption.

“Loki,” Jane whispered, startling him. Her hand was on his arm.

He felt as if someone had awoken him in the middle of the night. The fire on the brazier had nearly died out and now she was throwing some pieces of wood into it.

“You zoned out,”

“Sorry,” he rubbed his brow. “I was supposed to teach you many things and got derailed instead.”

“You told me enough,” she said, putting her hand on his arm again, this time with a reassuring squeeze, though she withdrew as soon as he raised his eyes to meet hers.

“I think we should go to sleep,” she said, going to the other hammock and arranging her blanket.

He smiled tiredly while observing her, noticing her colored cheeks. Soon he also made himself comfortable and prepared to spend the night there. His arms and legs ached and seemed to weight trice than normal, but he knew he would have a hard time sleeping.

The stars were familiar to him, if only because he had been visiting Midgard so often. As he gazed at them, he felt something more powerful than nostalgia. He felt betrayed. He had been brought up believing a lie, that he had a family, that he belonged to a race of proud warriors and savants, of protectors, to then discover that he was one of those “monsters” Asgardians hated so much.

The moment Laufey heard the name of Odin, a fire of rage and hatred shone in his eyes, and he wouldn’t stop calling him a thief and a murderer. Maybe Odin took him, Loki, as another prize, or as a prisoner of war to ensure the treaty was kept. Then, why having him believe himself as part of the royal family? He couldn’t take that question out of his mind, or the events that led to his current predicament.

“I was banished from Asgard,” he said aloud, still looking at the stars.

There was movement on the other chair.

“My-” he stopped. Suddenly the word father was impossible to say aloud. “The king of Asgard tasked me with guarding his son. Babysitting, more like. He’s a powerful warrior, but too reckless and too stupid at times. Drunk in power and fame, and also appointed to succeed his father.

“He’s not ready yet, and won’t be for a long time. I tried warning his father, the King, but my words fell on deaf ears. I had to act. I provoked his rage so he would do something forbidden, visiting a word that was off limits to us. It all went well but,” he chuckled mirthlessly. “The King is anything but stupid and he discovered the ruse. He sealed my magic and my longevity, and stranded me here until I die.”

Jane said nothing, and Loki supposed she had fallen asleep. He cursed himself for being so open with someone he barely knew, especially in a world where people were so ignorant about life in the universe.

“Why would you help me, then?” she asked.

“What?” he turned his head towards her.

“If you are helping me with my investigation,” Jane’s eyes were fixed on the starry sky. “Isn’t it to return to your home?”

There was a long pause then. She was right, what would he do then? He was no longer an Asgardian citizen, if Odin had punished him as severely as he thought. Heimdall would turn him away if not worse, and using brute force was out of the question, for it would imply gathering an army and starting a war with Asgard which would be doomed from the beginning.

“I have no home. Not anymore,” he said at last. “Helping Midgardians is one way to earn a place here.”

But on his mind he began to understand why Thor was the heir to the throne. It wasn’t because he was the firstborn, it was because Thor had been an only child all along; and Loki had been kept away from any secrets not because they were restricted to the heir. It had to be it, that Odin was conscious all the time about Loki being a Frost Giant: a monster, thus subjected to its own brutal instinct.

Once a monster, always a monster.

If only it was something he could discard, but he couldn’t tear his flesh open and rip whatever it was that made him different away. It was something he felt ashamed of, but he couldn’t do anything to remedy it either.

The bitterness of it welled up on his throat, nearly chocking him: All his efforts to please, to be the good son, the one who, not only caused the smallest amount of trouble for his parents, but was also the one who so often fixed what Thor ruined… all had been doomed from the beginning. He hadn’t been wanted, only kept alive and under surveillance for who knew which reasons, and then discarded when the treaty had been voided.

There was no reason for him to go back to Asgard, not now that he was but a mere mortal, destined to fade and disappear in a few years. He had neither the means nor the power to go back to his old home and face Odin.

But he could be king elsewhere. Heimdall was always watching over the Realms, after all. If he, Loki, could govern Midgard, or at least a great part of it, and keep peace in the same way that Odin did in the Nine Realms, he might prove that he wasn’t a monster. He would die anyway, but he would do so laughing at Odin’s face with his last breath, as the Frost Giant who ruled over Midgard, and the one who showed the path to Asgard and the rest of Yggdrasil to Humankind.

Loki raised his hands before his eyes. The hands which had woven so many spells, which had felled so many enemies, now stood impotent and weak as any mortal’s. But, unlike mortals, he still had the knowledge and wisdom of many generations of them.

He could raise an Empire out of nothing, and write his name on History in such a way that future generations would remember him as a legend.

Yes, he could do that.

Chapter Text

The next day brought nothing new. Selvig had a monumental hangover and didn’t seem to remember anything from the previous evening, Darcy was thrilled that they really bumped into an alien and Jane kept listening to Loki’s stories about Asgard, asking a myriad of questions about the technology they used and how everything worked. Loki, from his part, also spent the day trying to get more familiar with what passed as “modern technology” in Midgard.

The second day, however, brought a surprise.

Some men from SHIELD came to the laboratory. Apparently they had arranged that a notary came all the way from England with the necessary documents. Loki greeted them warmly, knowing that Coulson was calling his bluff.

As Loki was brought into the same tent they had used for interrogation, where Coulson was waiting for him. As they shook hands, Loki noticed a glint on the Midgardian’s eye.

They sat around the same table and spend some time with polite small talk until the notary, a tall, thin man, was escorted inside the room. They shook hands politely and the newcomer took a seat besides Coulson.

“Mr. Norwood,” the man, opening his briefcase and putting an envelope on the table. “I have to say it’s a pleasure to finally meet you, We have been wondering for year when-”

“This is not the will.”

“Excuse me?”

“This is not the will,” Loki insisted, pushing back the envelope. “I don’t know if this is some king of practical joke,” he said to Coulson. “But I’m quite tired of these spy games of yours. Either let me go back to England or help me solve my problem but, please, do not play with me any further.”

“But you barely took a glance,” said the agent. His smile had turned cold.

There were so many inconsistencies and errors Loki pondered if it was worth the time to tell them. He took the envelope without breaking eye contact with the agent and held it in his hand.

“Let us start with the seal. It’s supposed to be a century old one, yet the wax is not the same quality as the one my great-grandfather used. Plus the crest is but a poor imitation of the one used by my family. You did well observing that the seal had a small indentation which deformed it, but you botched the forgery, as my great-grandfather intended and got the defect all wrong. The paper is new but artificially aged: It still reeks of whatever product you used. I will not talk about the scribble you tried to pass as my great-grandfather’s handwriting. And you,” he spoke, throwing a piercing glance towards the notary. “I admire your effort at speaking with a Welsh accent, but it still slips and, among other things, I noticed the callosities on your hands that only develop when wielding a weapon, a custom I wouldn’t expect a notary to develop,” he turned back to Coulson. “When they told me SHIELD was a secret government agency, the last thing I expected was to face such substandard, poor excuse of a job, hastily put together and much worse delivered. Next time, Mr. Coulson, please don’t choose a field agent to play the part of a sedentary office worker, and do tell your specialists to have more care with their unsteady hands.

“What was your intention?” he threw the envelope across the table. “If you wanted my fingerprints you could have asked!”

Despite his words and the displeasure he didn’t have to feign, part of him felt at ease. That they had put some effort demonstrated that they had believed him to some extent. They thought him a Midgardian citizen; of uncertain identity, yes, but Midgardian nonetheless. To be fair, the forgery was nearly perfect and no one would have told otherwise with just a glance, as he had done, but Loki could recognize what little clues he had left and they had failed to reproduce, along with the absence of the subtle enchantment he had cast on the envelope. Though that last part still worried him. If Odin had sealed his magic, wouldn’t that mean that he would be incapable of sensing any magic power?

Coulson’s tone was appeasing, although he could barely hide his disappointment.

“You win, Mr. Norwood,” he said, signaling to his agent to stand up and leave them alone. “It seems you have a keen eye, but if it had been our men the ones to forge it I guarantee you wouldn’t have been able to tell the difference. We agreed to perform this little test on you at our guest’s request; they were the ones who provided everything and we just played along because your story didn’t add up. You can’t deny that there are too many coincidences in this affair.”

The door opened and another person was escorted into the room. It was a woman in her forties that Coulson presented as Mrs. Baxter, and who didn’t seem to enjoy having been taken away from her comfortable office for a transatlantic trip. However, her eyes lit up with a sparkle of recognition when seeing Loki’s face.

“My, but he does look like old Arthur!” she exclaimed, her features lightning up. “You will have to pardon us, Mr. Norwood, but we have grown so weary of false heirs that we devised a little trick to stall them while we checked their background and called the police. I really shouldn’t be here but these… gentlemen were quite persuasive.”

“Meaning that they abducted you?”

“We just made a call to the Notaries Society,” Coulson pointed out. “And I personally wanted to see what you would do when we gave you the fake one.”

Mrs. Baxter pursed her lips and sat down at the table, motioning Loki to do the same and politely ignoring Coulson from that moment on. Then she took an envelope from her briefcase and slid it towards Loki.

His hand hovered for a split second over it, and he sighed with relief: He could feel the magic.

Odin had sealed away his powers and longevity, but he could still feel it. It was like being a devoted swimmer and suddenly being barred from stepping into the water. If one approached a lake then, even with their eyes closed, they could feel its presence. That was the closest simile he could find, for magic wasn’t something one couldn’t detect with the five senses.

Feeling at long last at ease, he opened the envelope and took out two smaller ones, one marked for the heir and the other for he notary. Mrs. Baxter took both and acknowledged that everything was in order.

“Now turn around, please, as per your great-grandfather’s instructions,” she commanded, although she couldn’t stop smiling. One could say she was almost giddy with anticipation.

Loki opened the envelope and took out the piece of parchment, full of what would look like gibberish to any human eye. The symbols he had used were the arcane language used to encoding spells, so only a sorcerer might read them.

He turned around and started reading aloud in English. What Mrs. Baxter held on her hands was a translation, which the notary followed eagerly, almost hanging on each word.

Coulson witnessed the scene and, as “Robert” kept reading and listing all the possessions he would inherit and the exact amount of pounds, shilling and pennies Mr. Arthur had left him, the agent’s mind made the numbers with the interest rate and the conversion to the decimal system and he felt a faint vertigo.

“Your great-grandfather was a bit eccentric,” he commented once both notary and heir had finished. “I had never seen that language before. He even had your name foretold.”

“Planned ahead,” Loki corrected him. “He was a precise man. Every piece on its place.”

“There are still some procedures and paperwork we have to go over,” Baxter said, still smiling. “You will have to accompany me to London. I hope that doesn’t inconvenience you too much, Mr. Norwood.”

And so they agreed on that Robert Conrad Norwood was to accompany Mrs. Baxter to London as soon as possible to finish the procedures. Once the arrangements were made, however, Loki requested to speak in private with Coulson about Jane.

“You can’t expect to order me around about how to run this investigation, can you?” Coulson told him. “I have my orders.”

“I know but, you must speak to your superiors about it. Tell me, to your knowledge, how close was Miss Foster to discovering that something she keeps talking about?”

“That information is classified.”

“Think of the time your scientists will spend trying to decipher her theories, her calculations, everything. Wouldn’t it be better if you had her working for you?”

Coulson raised an eyebrow, all his fake affability vanished.

“Our scientists are more than capable, Mr. Norwood.”

“You suggested to her that she could build her instruments a second time,” Loki continued. “Are you going to have her under surveillance until she is again on the brink of discovery, to then steal everything from her? I assure you, she will do it a second, a third and even a fourth time, as if she were the next Sisyphus. I ask you: Is it worth the hassle?”

The agent held his gaze during some seconds, then he smiled.

“Smitten by the young scientists? Didn’t take you for that kind of man.”

“Call it whatever you want. I have a debt towards her that I intend to repay. It’s either you returning her equipment or me financing her research. She did all that with barely any money and from scraps pieces. Imagine if some fortune happened to back her up.”

“Not another rich nerd…” the agent murmured, massaging his temples.

“But in all seriousness,” Loki continued as if Coulson had said nothing. He would investigate later what nerd meant. “Your organization’s name means that you foresee a threat looming in the future. While I can’t imagine Miss Foster a mercenary, it still would be dangerous to have her running free. God knows what kind of people might take notice.”

“You seem to know an awful lot about her,” Coulson eyed him suspiciously. “Are you sure she found you in the desert two days ago?”

“I’m just good at reading people,” Loki laughed. “As if you didn’t gauge her character when you seized her property.”

Coulson was silent for a moment, enough for Loki to know that his words were sinking in.

“The decision is not mine, Mr. Norwood,” Coulson said, but Loki could see in his eyes that things were going according to plan. However, if it also worked with his superiors he couldn’t know. “I can’t promise anything.”

Chapter Text

The mansion he had left behind was in such a deplorable state he was advised not to step in the building, lest he would suffer an accident. While the much needed reparations were underway, he would move to the city, which made easier for him to get in contact with the human world.

Under different circumstances, Loki would have spent his days carousing in London, remembering the time he spent there when Queen Victoria still reigned. Not now.

Having a limited amount of time was something that would always make a mind focus, and that Loki knew well. He was a hedonist by nature (and Asgardian customs strengthened those tendencies), but he knew he had a limited set of years to accomplish what he wanted. He was still in his prime, but in a few decades his health would decline, and in a few decades more even his mind would start to drift away. He had much to do and partying could wait, if only a little.

But some things never changed.

Like the fact that money and polite words opened you most doors. It also made you famous, especially if you had claimed a legendary inheritance. It was the perfect method to create a positive image for himself which would also serve as a protection in case SHIELD tried making any move against him. As soon as journalists caught wind of the famous Norwood heir, they bombarded him with offers to give interviews. He was tempted to be swept along, but he took care that his public appearances were scarce enough to create a halo of mystery while maintaining the interest.

And in that privacy he researched about the appearance of what they called “metahumans”. Modified human beings, as a result of experiments or by an accident of nature, which could harness powers otherwise barred to such a weak race.

The truth was that such humans had always existed, only they hid among their lesser brethren, something Loki always knew from his visits to Midgard. He remembered that there was a group of mystics who could harness magic, and wondered if they would help him regain his powers. Or if he could find them.

Someone who didn’t hide their presence was a man named: Tony Stark. Ingenious and wealthy, he had fashioned a flying armor which allowed him to achieve super human feats. He alone had brought most conflicts on Midgard to a grinding halt. But he didn’t hide his identity, like most masked “heroes” roaming the planet, but wore his Iron Man moniker with pride, relishing in the fame like Thor always did. Big egos could be found even in petty worlds like this one.

Stark was also a multimillionaire and the owner of Stark Industries, formerly the biggest weapon manufacturer, and now the most important business in the clean energy sector. Though lately Mr. Stark had been engaged in all short of scandals and erratic behavior, the Company’s reins were in the capable hands of Miss Virginia Potts, who acted as the CEO. Just like when Norse women stayed at home managing the gold and household, while their husbands were out plundering and pillaging, so did this woman who ran an entire Corporation while her man fooled around with a tin armor.

Though at first Loki had entertained the thought of creating his own company, he knew Stark industries hadn’t reached the level of power Loki needed until the second generation stepped in. It would take far too much money and time, and the market was already full as it was. Instead of creating his own empire and waging a time-consuming war upon the rest, he would slowly take control of each one of them, keeping the visible heads so subordinates didn’t resent the new lord.

Loki had seen Miss Potts on television and read about her. She seemed calm, intelligent and skillful, someone worth dealing with. And he looked forward to do so, but not until at least he could sort out his other projects, like getting in control of Hammer Industries.

The former owner, Justin Hammer, had been involved in a shady business which included, among other things, smuggling a criminal out of jail and the creation of a small army of autonomous armors in the line of the original Iron Man, which nearly killed thousands of bystanders during the public unveiling, just because of an inferiority complex towards Stark. Loki could but shake his head at Hammer’s antics and second-rate way of handling things, not being in the least surprised that he ended up in jail after his sloppy attempt of putting himself ahead of Stark who, truth be told, had showed to be far more brilliant despite his eccentricities. However, it benefited Loki, for Hammer’s Stock Prize had slumped, making it very easy to take control of the ruined industry and giving it a facelift.

But trouble would have to find him again, and it was trouble with a capital T.

His cell rang one night, waking him up with a jolt. He fumbled sleepily with the lamp until he could switch it on and could pick up his phone; he then had to blink until he could read the caller’s name. It was Jane.

“Yes?” he answered in a raspy voice. They had kept the contact for the past months, be it by phone or videoconference, almost on a daily basis since he moved to London, but it was the first time she woke him up in the middle of the night. He felt his heart racing, feeling that something serious had happened.

“Robert?” Jane’s voice sounded a bit hesitant. They had agreed on using his Midgardian name in case SHIELD was listening. “Sorry I woke you up.”

A deep voice boomed in the background from her end of the line, making Loki’s stomach sink, as well as waking him up completely.

“What happened?” he asked, hoping that it was only a TV show Darcy would be watching.

“Well… uh, we caught another disturbance last night and-could you please leave that alone?” she said to another person.

Loki rubbed his brow. He had a very bad feeling about that call.

“Let me guess,” he said tiredly. “Someone paid a visit.”

“Yes, how did you know? Never mind. He says he’s your brother and believes we have imprisoned you somewhere. Could you-?”

“Pass him on to me,” he sighed, already sitting cross-legged on his bed, his chin resting on his free hand.

After a fumbling noise and Jane’s hushed voice indicating how to use her cell, a deafening shout from her end made Loki take the phone away from his ear.

“BROTHER!” Thor’s voice roared in joy. “WHERE ARE YOU?”

“Could you, please, keep it down?” Loki hissed, already feeling the beginning of a thumping headache.

“Oh, sorry,” Thor apologized. “I came to take you home. Tell me where you are and I’ll come to pick you up!”

Panic began to well up inside him. He had been exiled, it was forbidden to bring back anyone banned by the King himself! What was this oaf trying to do? What if other mortals saw him?

“No! Go back before anyone notices!”

“No one will take heed,” Thor bragged. “I assure you. Tell me where you are!”

“No, I will go instead. Do not move from where you are right now,” Loki ordered. “Look, this place has changed a lot. Listen to me just once, please. Stay where you are.”

“But, why? Midgard has always been safe for us.”

Loki grinded his teeth in frustration; he had to speak very slowly so his voice didn’t tremble.

“You not listening to me saying that you had to stay home is what got me stranded here in the first place.”

There was a long silence from the other end.

“I’m sorry, brother,” Thor’s voice was barely audible.

This surprised him. It was the first time he had heard Thor so contrite.

“Wait for me where you are, please. I’ll be there in a day. And do try to behave. Darcy and Jane are good girls and I don’t want them to get into trouble. Oh, and tell Jane to lend you some clothes to hide your armor. Understood?”

“Understood.”

He hung up without giving Thor a chance to say anything more. Something had changed in Asgard during his absence, he felt it on his brother’s voice, and it was bound to be something unpleasant if it had taken Thor’s hubris down a notch.

The next thing he did was calling his secretary to tell her that he had to travel to the States a day before scheduled. He instructed her to cancel all his appointments and meetings in England for the following week, but confirm the one with Miss Potts.

His trip back to the States went smoothly, but it could have been better if only he had his own private jet already and didn’t have to take a commercial flight. Why Thor couldn’t wait a bit longer to pay him a visit?

Jane’s laboratory still sat on that former repair shop, and was still full of gizmos that only she knew what they were for. Loki left the rented car beside Jane’s caravan and hurried inside the building.

Thor was there, thankfully dressed as a Midgardian. Far from what Loki expected, the prince was behaving fairly well, sitting still and listening to whatever Jane was explaining to him.

Upon Loki entering, however, he got up and greeted him with a wide smile.

“BROTHER!” he bellowed, springing up from his seat. “We have been so worried about you!”

“Could you wait for me outside?” Loki said curtly, stepping back when Thor attempted to grab his shoulder.

Thor was taken aback by his terse tone, but said nothing and did as instructed while the girls watched in silence.

Loki sighed deeply once the door closed behind the warrior.

“He said he wanted you to go back home,” Jane said softly.

He smiled wryly and shook his head.

“Thor is very impulsive,” he told them. “But he’s incapable of actual malice. I hope he didn’t cause any trouble.”

“Well…” Jane starter, hesitant.

“He ate all our poptarts,” Darcy interrupted. “And then he nearly caused a traffic accident because he didn’t want to look both sides of the road before-”

“Darcy, please!”

“What? I was going to say that besides that he did nothing more!”

“Nothing that I didn’t expect, at least,” Loki said as he turned for the door. “Thank you for your help.”

“Wait!” Jane went after him. “Are you going to go with him?”

Loki shook his head, more to reassure himself than her. On his current state, Thor could drag him all the way to Asgard without a chance for a fight.

“Not if I can avoid it,” he said instead.

Thor waited for him under the sunlight. It was nearly midday, but it wasn’t enough to warm Loki’s mood.

“It has taken you quite some time to come visit me,” Loki remarked icily. “Three whole months. For all you knew, I could be sitting at a road’s edge, starving to death. Why have you come?”

“We need you back at home,” Thor said. “The Frost Giants have declared war on us.”

“What use would you have for me? I only cast illusions,” he said acidly. “I never actually fought, remember?  You and your precious Warriors Three and Sif should be more than enough.”

Thor’s expression had changed; his distress was evident, and Loki had to fight very hard to hide his surprise. For the first time during their long lives he saw anxiety in his blue eyes. Not even when they had been outnumbered during battle did he see on Thor a trace of any other thing that wasn’t a mixture of bravado and excitement. There was unease and… fear?

“Brother, you don’t understand, our father-”

“Your father,” he corrected. “And don’t call me brother.”

“What are you talking about?” Thor said, making a face. “Stop saying such nonsense! You have to come with me, it’s very urgent! Father has fallen into the Odinsleep!”

“I can’t. The Allfather sealed my magic and my immortality. Now I’m just a mortal man.”

“There must be a way to-”

“There isn’t,” Loki interrupted him. “What happens to Asgard is no more my concern, nor is in my power to avoid it.”

“How can you say such a thing?” Thor hollered. “You grew up there! Your family lives there! As the King I order you to-”

“I am not an Asgardian,” Loki interrupted him, pausing a moment before speaking again, knowing that he was severing the last ties that connected him to Asgard. “A Frost Giant grabbed my arm during our incursion. I am immune to their touch. You surely know what that means.”

Thor gaped at him, visibly struggling with this revelation for a moment.

“But, maybe your magic protected you,” he ventured.

Loki shook his head.

“Only having their blood can serve as protection. Father must have taken me when he last visited Jotunheim. You might recall something amiss when you were younger, like never seeing Mother pregnant.”

Thor’s expression remained adamant, but Loki could see in his eyes that he was pondering his question, trying to remember any detail of their mother being pregnant. He had been old enough to register those kind of memories.

“Odin fought the Frost Giants who tried to enslave Midgard,” Loki continued, finding a perverse pleasure in seeing Thor’s expression. “And now he sent another who can build an empire for himself. Isn’t it ironic?”

“An empire? Why would you do that? It was decided that Midgardians would be free from our influence many centuries ago.”

“Have you the slightest idea of what they have done with their precious freedom?” Loki leered. “They have been massacring each other for so long they can’t remember any other way of living, and in the last hundred years they have been several times on the brink of total annihilation. They need guidance, and I’m more than willing to provide it.”

“Being a tyrant? You have gone mad!”

“Mad?” Loki nearly shouted. “You can claim Asgard’s throne only because it’s your birthright, because the ones who wrote the laws accounted for neither wisdom nor responsibility as obligatory to govern the Realm. That is going mad. Look at yourself! So anxious of sitting there but now you can’t even administer a war situation.”

“Is this because of it? Because you wanted to be the king instead?”

“Hang the throne! I never wanted it! The only thing I’ve ever wanted was for someone to recognize my loyalty and my efforts at protecting it! But I tell you this: that now that I know myself not from Asgard I see Odin’s punishment as a blessing instead, for I will be hereafter free from you and your friends’ foolishness until the day I die. My only grief is that I won’t have many years to savor it before Death takes me.”

“LOKI!” Thor bellowed, grabbing his brother’s shoulders in desperation. “Stop this at once! I will return your powers, I promise! But you have to come back home! I am the King, and I can annul your punishment!”

“I told you I don’t have a home anymore,” Loki said coldly, shaking his brother’s hands off and taing a step back. He knew that, more than hostile gestures, it was the lack of reaction what hurt Thor the most, as he could see when the warrior released him. “What would your people think if you contradicted your father’s last command? They need a sense of continuity in these hard times. Every good governor knows it.”

“Why do you turn on us?” Thor asked, his fists clenched in frustration.

“You turned on me from the very first day. Odin knew what I was from the beginning, yet he raised me to despise and scorn my own blood. All was well and good while I followed you like a shadow, protecting you from your reckless actions so you could reach your coronation day unscathed, but when he suspected that I wasn’t fit anymore for that task he casted me away. Tell me, who is the liar now?”

“You will come with me,” Thor insisted.

“What are you going to do?” Loki teased. “Abduct me? Do you know how obsessed Midgardians have become over the last years with what might be beyond their atmosphere? They would be scared to death if someone from another world came to kidnap one of them! And no doubt they will brand Asgard an enemy world, like they would do with Jotunheim if they knew of its existence.”

Thor took a step towards him.

“I’ll have you know that I am rather famous in Midgard,” Loki continued without flinching. “My disappearance will be noticed and talked about, unless you want to take those two adorable ladies with us. Against their will, of course.”

Thor’s gaze turned to the laboratory’s windows, from where Jane and Darcy stood looking at them with worried expressions. They couldn’t have heard a word they had said, but the body language said everything they needed to know.

“Or maybe kill them,” he kept teasing Thor. “We all know that humans are not allowed in Asgard, and it would be very bad for a King’s reputation to break the rules.”

For a few seconds, Loki was already picturing the stronger man hauling him like a newborn cub and dragging him back to Asgard. But his words worked the desired effect, for Thor lowered his gaze in defeat for a moment.

“You are not coming back, then?”

“No.”

“Very well,” Thor said with badly restrained rage. “If you are not coming with me you are never to step on Asgard again. That is my command.”

Loki could barely keep himself from smiling. So gullible, as always.

The new King of Asgard turned away without another word and walked towards the desert, where Heimdall would take him back home. Loki was about to advise him against doing it in broad daylight, but remembered he was no longer in charge of Thor’s behavior. He was now the King, let him decide what to do and when and see how well that would go.

“It looks like you are going to have another disturbance,” he told Jane when he came back into the laboratory.

“Are you ok?” she asked anxiously.

“He looked as if he was about to rip you apart,” Darcy pointed out.

“He might look fierce, but he wouldn’t harm me,” Loki laughed. “You might not have another opportunity to study the Bifrost, Jane, you might want to go with him.”

“What!? NO!” she yelled, but quickly checked herself. “I… I mean, look at how angry he was! What if he takes it on us?”

“Us?” Darcy echoed with incredulity. “Jane, he’s a frigging GOD!”

“If we are going somewhere, we are going together,” Jane ordered.

“Thor has many weaknesses,” Loki tried to calm them. “But he would never harm two ladies like you.”

“Well,” Darcy retorted. “He sure was bossy.”

“He’s a king on his land,” Loki told them. “He’s entitled to act as such, even when he’s not there. Take comfort in the fact that it’s very unlikely that you would cross paths ever again.”

“Will you follow us at least?” Jane pleaded.

“Very well,” he sighed.

Loki got into his car, while the girls drove the van. Slowing down when they reached Thor, they convinced him to hop in, and they all made their way towards the desert.

Finally reaching their destination, he leaned on the side of his vehicle, parked by the van, both at a good distance from the landing site. The girls were busy with their reading apparatus, Jane running to and fro like a squirrel on a tree, no doubt as a result of Loki telling her that this would be the last time that the Bifrost would be activated from Asgard in a very long time.

Thor, however, was oblivious to either the girls or Loki as he strode to the center of the pattern, his brow deeply creased on that frown that settled each time he didn’t get his way.

Loki had expected feeling some sort of closure with sending Thor on his way home. It was true that he had found some relish in his dumbfounded expression, but beyond that it was as if he was watching everything happen to another person. He felt void.

Thor shouted a command for Heimdall to open the Bifrost, though before he finished the sky had already darkened with swirling clouds.

“That’s too soon,” Loki muttered.

The explosion from the Bifrost’s energy made him loose his balance. He heard the girls screaming inside the van, but the vehicle withstood the blast easily. Something was very wrong.

When the cloud of dust cleared, Loki saw five figures on the landing site; the four new visitors looked bloodstained and battered, and one seemed to have passed out while two others carried him. Thor was already addressing them, asking frantically what had happened. This time Loki felt his blood run cold. He had never seen Sif and the Warriors Three so covered in blood.

Chapter Text

“Why did you leave the Palace unprotected?” Loki yelled.

No one said a word. Volstagg sat in silence, eyes downcast; Sif had finished bandaging her head to cover a gash on her brow and sat leaning her elbows on a table, while Hogun lay on a makeshift bed, conscious but unable to move, as Fandral and Darcy tended to his wounded chest.

“What about the King and the Queen?” Loki asked, even when he was afraid of the answer.

“We don’t know,” said Sif, staring into the void. “The Queen had a vision of the attack just as Thor crossed the Bifrost, but didn’t want to interfere on his mission, so she called for her Vanir kin for help. She also ordered all those unable to fight to take refuge inside the Palace. Heimdall tried to activate the shield from the Observatory as soon as everyone was inside, but his outpost was the first place they attacked. Then the Queen and her kin casted a protective spell to substitute the original one, although we don’t know how much longer it will last, or for how long our troops will resist, even though Commander Tyr was at the front. The army…”

She choked with the emotion. Thor put a reassuring hand on her shoulder, but her hands clenched in silent fury. They were had gathered inside Jane’s laboratory at Loki’s request: it would do no good having so many outsiders in a small town at the same time, especially when many townspeople were excitedly discussing that strange phenomenon they had witnessed in the distance.

“Heimdall called for us,” said Volstagg. “We thought it was because he needed help, but he was alone at the Observatory. They had damaged it but it could stand for a last travel, and he tasked us with finding Thor. He threw us through the portal as the Frost Giants gathered at the doors, spawned from who knows where, and he alone stood to fight them.”

He hid his face behind his hand in weariness. Dying in battle was an honor for an Asgardian, while leaving a comrade to face a certain death was deemed as a sign of cowardice.

According to Thor and his friends, not too long after Laufey had declared war on Asgard, Odin had given orders to Heimdall not to let anyone use the Bifrost; Thor had confronted the King about Loki’s fate and demanded to bring him back. Thor didn’t give many details, but Loki knew that it hadn’t been gentle. As a result of the strain and him having postponed his rest for too long, Odin fell into the Odinsleep, leaving Thor as temporary regent.

Thor tried carrying out diplomatic conversations in an attempt to keep war at bay, but Laufey’s people had murdered each messenger they sent, the last one returning home barely alive, with just enough breath to tell Thor that Laufey would crush every Asgardian and that he would take what was his.

After that, the sighting of Frost Giants inside Asgard was more and more frequent. They appeared seemingly from nowhere and attacked people on their very homes, butchering most of the household and their animals, to then vanish without a trace. Worry began to spread among the people, who felt defenseless before an enemy who attacked them so cowardly.

That was why Thor wanted Loki to be back at their home; the Queen had a deep knowledge about magic but it was Loki the one who experimented the most with arcane powers, and Thor thought that he could be the one to help protecting Asgard.

But a day after Thor had left his home there had been a massive attack: An unknown force had appeared on the sky and started bombarding the city while the Frost Giants, with Laufey at the head, had entered into the city to raze it.

Loki listened to the story with a somber expression. Asgard wasn’t his home anymore and he was sure that, if they knew that they had a Frost Giant among them, they wouldn’t doubt about killing him on the spot. But still, listening to what had happened put a weight on his chest very difficult to bear.

Ragnarok was a reality that every Asgardian lived with. Some day everything would return to chaos to start the Universe anew, but Loki never agreed with the philosophy of staying idle while everything came down crashing around you.

Jane was busy analyzing the data she had gathered that last time, which she said had been exactly what she needed for her investigation. She was so absorbed that she didn’t notice Loki standing behind her until he put a hand on her shoulder.

“Could we build an Einstein-Rosen bridge?” he whispered to her.

“Ah, well,” she stammered, startled by him. “In theory, yes, but we need a gigantic power source to open a portal. I don’t know where we could find such a thing.”

Loki pondered his options. He had planned to instigate Midgardians to “discover” a viable source of energy for an artificial wormhole, developing Stark’s arc reactors’ technology even further; said process would have taken some years, which wouldn’t have supposed a direct interference with their development. Now things had changed: If Asgard fell, the Nine Realms would go down with it. Though Stark’s technology would still be useful, they needed a more potent source, and Loki remembered having read about such a thing.

But first he needed to secure the technology.

“If I could get your power source and the instruments,” he said aloud. “Could you construct a portal?”

Thor and the others looked at him suddenly.

“Um…” Jane’s cheeks reddened at the unexpected attention. “I suppose I could, but I would need help, not to talk about what SHIELD would say about it.”

“Don’t worry about them for now,” he waved his hand dismissively.

“Easy for you to say,” she replied. “It was you who put me under their command.”

“It was this or losing your investigation for good,” Loki said as he went for his coat. “And don’t think they didn’t try to put a leash on me too.”

“Where are you going?” she asked.

“Tomorrow morning I have a reunion with Stark’s CEO. It’s in California, so I’d better be going.”

“I can take you there,” said Thor. “It will be faster than any transportation. Tell me how many miles and which direction.”

“No one should see you,” Loki argued. “In fact, no one should see ANY of you, or panic would spread and you might put these two lovely ladies in danger.”

“No one will see me,” Thor insisted. “Time is on the essence, brother!”

“You listened to me before,” Loki said calmly. “Now listen to me again. Mother is strong and she has her kin with her. You are all battered and weary, and resting will do you good now that we don’t have any healing stone.”

But as he went to the car, Thor’s hand on his shoulder stopped him.

“Brother, what have you planned?”

“Why? Do you suspect me?”

“No, I…” Thor seemed at a loss for words. “You not always confided in me with your strategies, but-”

“I did, Thor. Every single time before entering battle. But you hardly ever paid any attention.”

“I know,” he shook his head. “Now I wish to know what you will do.”

“Not this time,” Loki said, turning away.

But Thor grabbed him again by the shoulders and forced Loki to look at him in the eye.

“You said you wanted to rule Midgard,” he said. “You were always prone to mischief, but not this. This is not you, brother.”

“My current concern,” Loki said curtly, removing Thor’s hands from his coat’s lapels. “Is getting all of you off to any allied Realm. Beyond that I have no further interest on what happens with you or with Asgard, and you would do well not meddling in Midgardian affairs.”

Thor’s glance hardened at those words. Loki could see how he clenched his jaw and his fists, but neither man said anything more.

He drove without a single glance to the rearview until Puente Antiguo was a dot on the horizon.

Chapter Text

The hall of the Stark Industries’ building was as spacious as a palace. It wasn’t only a show of economic prowess, for the ample space and the luminosity helped create a place which could improve workers’ performance. Sharply dressed employees went to and fro, while small groups of visitors were herded around by their guides, so that the building, despite the apparent coldness of its modern design of crystal and steel, felt like a busy hub where people gathered to learn and improve. Or so the mottos in the multitude of screens along the walls said.

Loki was oblivious to the bustling atmosphere around him as one of the security guards guided him to a waiting room outside Miss Potts’ office. He tried keeping himself focused on the matter at hand, but the descriptions Thor and his friends had given him about the invaders filed him with unease. Living beings made of flesh and metal, flying behemoths, which could swallow a whole building… The only silver lining was the fact that, with the Frost Giants spawning after he had been banished, all suspicions about him being involved in the coronation day’s incidents would disappear.

“Mr. Norwood?” the voice of Miss Potts’ secretary took him out from his reverie.

“Miss Potts will receive you in a moment, please follow me.”

He got up from the armchair and let the young woman guide him inside the office. Miss Potts’ was already waiting for him beside her desk.

“Mr. Norwood,” she said, extending her hand with a warm smile. “Pleased to meet you. Please, sit down.”

Virginia Potts was exactly how he had expected; she was both intelligent and wise which, though instilled his admiration, wasn’t very favorable to his designs. However, once he tested the waters, the conversation steered to his side, with him proposing Stark’s expansion to Europe now that they had a project for a clean energy source. Even though she was a guarded woman, his speech seemed to convince her of how profitable such venture could be for both them and all those citizens who could benefit from it.

However, when he was sure of having gained her trust, the door flew open, startling both of them.

“Pepper, darling!” a dark haired man in casual clothes strolled into the room with a wide smile. Tony Stark, in the flesh. “I have the plans you asked for, shall we go over them now or- oh, you have visit?”

Loki had stood up as soon as he had seen him, as well as Miss Potts (why Stark gave her such a nickname was beyond his understanding). All the friendliness had vanished from her countenance, replaced by a coldness that gave her thin features the appearance of an ice statue. Without a word she took Stark by an arm and dragged him to the door. Loki made a mental note to investigate if she had Norse ascendants.

“What are you doing?” he heard her murmuring. “I’m in the middle of a very important reunion.”

“Yeah, saw that, with the handsome Brit. I heard the female staff gossiping. Look-”

“Tony, no.”

“But it’s very important! We agreed to look over the plans for the Tower-”

“You KNEW I had an appointment!” she hissed. “Tony, you can’t-”

“Watch me,” Stark said, strutting towards Loki. “Robert Norwood, isn’t it?”

Since he didn’t offer his hand, Loki made no movement, though he answered in the same cordial tone.

“Tony Stark, I suppose,” he said.

“Mr. Norwood is a potential investor,” Potts spoke up, maybe to avoid anything uncalled-for from Stark.

“Yeah,” Stark eyed him dubiously. It was clear that he didn’t trust him, and money had nothing to do with it. “Well, Norwood, ‘twas nice meeting you, we’ll call you later,” he said, accompanying him to the door.

“Our legal department will contact you,” Potts assured. “As soon as we can sort this out.”

And the door closed behind him.

Anthony Stark was also what he expected: arrogant and crass. He would find a way to deal with him once he could get his hands on his company. Getting rid of him wouldn’t do, since he was the main intellect behind Stark Industries and akin to a husband to Miss Potts. There had to be a way to keep him busy and contented, it was only a matter of time until he could discover it.

He stepped outside the building, into the Californian sun.

Looking at his cell, he saw he had many lost calls from Jane in the last half an hour, and that she was calling again.

“Yes?” he answered.

“Robert!” she was hardly keeping her voice from trembling. “Robert, you have to come here, quick!”

“Calm down,” he said, exiting the building. “What is happening?”

“It’s SHIELD. They were also studying the Bifrost. They know Thor and the others are here and want to take them away!”

“What?”

“I tried to reason with them, but they wouldn’t listen! They said they had to question them but we all know what they will do to them!”

“Jane, Jane!” he tried to calm her. “Did any of them do anything?”

“They have surrounded the building and evacuated the town.”

“No, not SHIELD! Thor and the others!”

“Nothing,” her words made him sigh deeply. “They haven’t stepped outside since you went away.”

“Is Coulson out there?”

“Well, I think he is, but- ”

The cell’s battery decided to die at that moment.

Desperation welled up inside him. It would take him too many hours to get to New Mexico for the situation to be solved in time. He cursed himself for having silenced Thor when he did. Had he stood idle nothing like this would have happened and he would still have powers to defend Asgard.

“You should have charged your cell last night,” a voice said behind him.

It was Stark again, with a smug smile on his face. Loki should have noticed his armor standing by the garden.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Stark,” Loki said coldly. “But I have pressing matters to attend to. If you, please- ”

“With SHIELD, perhaps?”

Loki narrowed his eyes ever so slightly.

“Were you eavesdropping?”

“No. Well, I wasn’t exactly doing that, but I heard SHIELD and the name of an agent I happen to know.”

“Are you involved with them?”

Stark snorted.

“SHIELD sticks its nose in everything, which is not the same thing. By the way,” he took out from his pocket a small device with looked as a framed crystal. It was his personal cell phone and computer, as Loki deduced when Stark started typing and reading what appeared on the screen. “It wasn’t your battery! You cell has been hacked. Typical from them. Lemme just…”

He tapped some commands and then smiled.

“Done,” he beamed. “You are free from them.”

“Why have you done this?”

“I hate people spying on me,” he shrugged. “Could you believe they planted a mole in my company to keep tabs on me?”

“They tried to assign me a secretary,” Loki confessed, remembering a certain Miss Robinson which he would rather forget. “But I saw through her disguise.”

“Mm, that’s something,” Stark conceded, his dark eyes glinting calculatingly. “Say, it’s common knowledge why I interest SHIELD but, what about you?”

“It’s anyone’s guessing, Mr. Stark, but I ought to reach New Mexico as soon as possible, if you woul-”

“I could take you there.”

“But?”

“What?”

“There must be a condition,” he stole a glance towards the Stark building, and towards Miss Potts’s window. “Or maybe the prospect of having me far from here is more urgent than any matter you might have to attend to.”

Stark clapped his hands once.

“You are a brilliant one, kid,” he laughed, his voice dripping sarcasm. “Yeah, there is a small restriction: I get to choose the route and the transport.”

“Fair enough,” even though he didn’t like the glint on Stark’s eyes, he had no other choice. “How much will it take for us to get there?”

“Oh well,” Stark brought his hand to his ear. He seemed to be speaking with someone else. “JARVIS, bring the experimental autopilot and suppress the codifying.”

“Wait, what!?”

“Only a fighter plane could fly as fast,” Stark said. “But, fortunately, we have something better.”

It was a matter of seconds before Loki could see in the sky something approaching at a very high speed: A second suit of armor similar to the one Stark wore. The experimental part was what unnerved him.

The armor flew lower and lower, straight to where they stood but, instead of slowing down and landing as Loki had seen Iron Man doing in the news, it crashed loudly on the ground and stumbled until it smashed against a wall, leaving a big hole in it and ruining a small bed of flowers in the process.

“Ah, those where Pepper’s favorites,” Stark murmured, oblivious to Loki’s horrified expression. “JARVIS, next time correct the entry angle three degrees and lower the thrust capacity to one percent.”

However, the armor rose and dusted itself as if nothing had happened, to then walk confidently until it stood in front of Loki.

“All yours,” Stark invited.

“Um- ”

“C’mon! Don’t tell me you are scared!”

“I’m not too fond of being tossed around like a ragdoll,” Loki said.

“Oh you won’t, and the armor is quite durable,” he then snorted. “The beatings I went through thanks to these babies!”

Loki still made no movement.

“You want to invest on our company but refuse to try our products? Tsk, tsk, tsk.”

“This is not one of your products!”

“This is one of the few genuine Stark products ‘cause I made it with my own hands. You are lucky that I let you play with my toys, kid.”

Had Loki never seen footage of Iron Man in action he would have never gotten into that armor, but Stark had a valid point.

As soon as the metal closed at his back, he was faced with a luminous display of numbers and diagrams.

“Good evening, sir,” an electronic voice welcomed him.

Another voice, this one more familiar, joined in, as a small frame appeared on the display with Stark’s face on it. He instructed Loki to remain as relaxed as he could to reduce the chance of injuries, since the armor would move on its own accord. The coordinates were given and they took off immediately.

Flying in that armor wasn’t as uncomfortable as he had expected for such a primitive device. In spite of it, he preferred flying with his own wings, like when he sneaked into Freyja’s chambers and borrowed her feather cape.

During the trip Stark insisted on Loki trying several of the armor’s features, like trying to call Jane, which he couldn’t, most likely due to her cell having undergone the same procedure as Loki’s. But instead of hacking her cell, JARVIS secured a videoconference at Stark’s insistence.

The first thing he saw on the display was Darcy’s face, who quickly called for Jane. Thor hovered behind her, but was pulled aside by Darcy.

“Are those your friends?” Stark asked.

“Jane, are you all right?” Loki said, ignoring him.

“They think Darcy and I are hostages,” Jane sighed in exasperation. “And we can’t convince them of anything else.”

“Typical of them,” Stark meddled. “They aren’t bad guys, though.”

“Who’s that?” Jane asked.

“Mm, it’s the first time such a pretty girl has asked me who I am,” his smug voice was starting to get into Loki’s nerves more than ever. “I’m Tony Stark, my dear, Iron Man for the press. We could get to know each other better when we arrive there.”

Jane frowned at those words, to Loki’s delight, but he decided to cut her retort.

“It will take roughly an hour to get there,” he told her. “Will you hold up until then?”

“I think so but-”

“I could call Coulson,” Stark interrupted again.

“What?” Loki and Jane said.

“Couldn’t you have done that before taking off?” Loki protested.

“Yeah but I didn’t know if he would pay any attention to me. You know, agents tend to ignore you until you throw a party at your home and cause some havoc. Oh, by the way, I’ll have to cut the videoconference.”

“Very well,” Loki sighed. “Take care, Jane.”

“Yeah,” her voice sounded calm, but Loki could see that she was trying her earnest not to look as worried as she surely felt. “You too, okay?”

Her face vanished from the display.

“Cute girlfriend you have there,” Stark commented. “JARVIS, call Coulson.”

“She’s not my girlfriend.”

“More like an affair, then?”

“Mr. Stark, I’m not a rich playboy, I have better-”

“She jilted you, uh?”

“This man is hopeless,” he thought in frustration, grinding his teeth. “If it wasn’t for his brains…”

Thankfully, Coulson picked up the phone. The agent was as bewildered as Jane had been.

“Coulson, buddy!” Stark greeted him cheerfully. “How’s that going?”

“Mr. Stark! This is a secured line!”

“Yeah, well, I was flying over the neighborhood and thought about dropping by.”

“Mr. Stark, please keep out from here. We are trying to solve a very dangerous situation.”

“Good, then you’ll need reinforcements! Promise me you won’t start the party without us, okay? Stark out!”

“Do you think he will listen to you?”

“Let’s hope so, but pray that your friends do nothing. Hey, wanna check out the sound system?”

“I don’t think so. Test that feature when there’s no one inside, please.”

Stark insisted, giving some suggestion for music tracks, but Loki, who would have preferred knocking him out, declined as politely as he could.

The rest of the flight went without any incident worth mentioning, except for some taunts from Tony that Loki returned, mentioning Miss Potts’ availability in case he wanted to invite her to diner, which made Stark shut up at once.

As they were approaching the small village, Loki closed his eyes, remembering the armor’s disastrous lading an hour before. Fortunately, JARVIS had calibrated correctly the parameters and they took land on the building’s roof without any incident. As soon as the metal plates opened he darted to the stairs, leaving Stark behind.

Jane and the others had taken refuge with the wounded Hogun behind some overturned desks. The two mortal girls were visibly worried, despite making their best effort at keeping a brave face. The rest fumed silently.

“Loki!” Jane got up as soon as he entered and ran to him, a reckless gesture that she quickly corrected crouching and dragging Loki with her. “You have to talk to them!”

“It seems someone got ahead of me,” he commented, watching through the windows how Stark had gotten down from the roof and was now chatting with Coulson.

“They brought an armored warrior!” Sif hissed, clutching her sword, ready to spring.

“He brought me here,” Loki clarified. “Mr. Stark is a very influential man here on Midgard and he is on our side, or at least not on SHIELD’s side.”

“You brought Iron Man?” Darcy exclaimed in amazement, for she hadn’t taken a glance over the table yet. “That’s crazy!”

By that time they were all peering out from their hideout.

“What might be so special about that warrior?” Fandral murmured to Volstagg, seemingly annoyed by Darcy’s reaction.

“I wish I knew,” the larger man answered, pulling his beard pensively. “Maybe he’s a legendary one, though with that helmet it must be hard to breathe.”

“Do you think he’s as fit as he looks? And, where is his weapon?” Fandral continued. Loki chose to ignore the rest of their conversation.

“I wanted to secure the technology from Stark Industries so we could build a Bifrost from here,” Loki explained to the rest.

“You can’t bend the laws of the Universe,” Hogun said from her bed.

“We won’t be defying any laws,” Loki said. “Miss Foster has been studying how the Bifrost can be reproduced with Midgardian technology. We only need to put that knowledge to work.”

“What’s that?” Fandral’s voice interrupted them.

Outside the building, the agents weren’t aiming with their firearms to them anymore; their gazes were fixed upon the storm clouds gathering just outside the village and the whirlwind which was already forming from them.

“That’s the Bifrost!” Thor bellowed. “Heimdall must be sending someone for us!”

But Loki had an ominous feeling in the fraction of a second which took the Bifrost to leave the travelers on Midgard. They were close enough to distinguish their shapes, and Loki knew that they were far bigger than any Asgardian.

“Frost Giants,” he said, his voice devoid of any emotion.

He was conscious of the movement around him, but his mind went numb for some moments. While Thor and the others rushed outside, a white-blue glare made everyone shield their eyes as the Giants froze the very ground they treaded on and marched towards the village. The clouds, far from dispersing after the Bifrost being gone, covered the sky to where the eye could see; they were so thick that no daylight reached the ground, and only the street lighting saved them from being enshrouded in total darkness.

Coulson ordered his men to disperse and take positions behind and over the buildings. Iron Man flew towards the Giants but seemed to limit himself to survey them until Thor and his friends plunged into the battlefield, their voices carrying a single war cry, their hands intend on bringing death upon any enemy who dared to oppose them. Stark joined the battle from the air, and it was then when a beam of blizzard came from the very center of the Frost Giants’ group, nearly hitting Iron Man, who kept flying in a chaotic, disconcerting pattern to attract the attention of whoever was wielding that power.

A cold sweat broke all over Loki’s body when he realized that it was Laufey the one leading the march, and that they had broken into the Vault to retrieve the Casket of Ancient Winters. But, for some reason, Laufey couldn’t summon its powers to their full potential; and that was a good thing, for the Casket was said to freeze entire countries with one blast.

That was, at least, what Odin used to tell them as children.

They were reaching the village’s borders and Coulson, who didn’t stop giving instructions to his men, ordered them to separate and flank the enemy.

Loki saw that as a signal and hurried outside, but someone held his arm.

“Where are you going?” Jane yelled over the riot the windows made as the wind and the snow hit them. “They are going to kill you!”

“You are not safe here!” he told her. “Take Hogun with you and drive as far and fast as you can!”

“What about you?” Darcy shouted.

She was helping Hogun to his feet; the Vanir was deadly pale and could barely walk on his own, but no complain would ever escape from his lips. Their eyes met and Loki, for a brief moment, thought he saw something different in the warrior’s eyes when he looked at him.

What Loki had in mind was a suicide, no matter the result, but they would be all dead if he didn’t do something and fast. Laufey had come with a good number of his soldiers, even when the thick of his army would probably be busy plundering Asgard. Nonetheless, he would be confident on the Casket’s power, and the key to his success would also be his downfall.

“We are not leaving you!” Jane protested.

“Jane, listen to me,” he said hurriedly, taking both her shaking hands on his own. “I’ll buy you enough time to escape, but you have to make haste. I will be fine but you must not look back, do you understand?”

She nodded, biting her lip. As soon as he released her she threw her arms around his neck and squeezed hard for a brief moment, to then dart away and help Darcy and Hogun.

The battle wasn’t going well: Even though the Asgardians kept their ground, the Frost Giants had surrounded them, and more and more of the creatures joined in. He heard Thor shouting his summoning several times, but no lightning from those accursed clouds came to his aid.

Something fell from the sky: Stark had been hit by the blizzard, and his armor made a sickening sound when it hit the ground. Loki could see how Thor, with a last effort, could summon a shockwave which shook the ground and knocked over the Giants around him.

Loki lost no time and started running towards the Giants. Someone shouted from his side and an agent tried to catch him, but Loki outran the man with ease.

Free from Stark’s interference, at last Laufey could concentrate on the warriors in front of him. Loki saw how a blast of blizzard caught Volstagg and Fandral first, then Sif’s enraged shout was cut short when she, too, was encased in ice as Laufey swept her. And the last one was Thor, who had launched Mjolnir towards the king, but the hammer never reached its destination.

Laufey’s thin lips curled into a smile. One of his warriors prepared to crush the iced figures, but a voice interrupted him.

“STOP!” Loki yelled.

He was well aware that he didn’t make a very intimidating impression of himself: He was sweating, flustered, out of breath, his teeth chattering due to the coldness that was already numbing his nose and fingers, and dressed in flimsy Midgardian clothes.

The Giants looked at him derisively and, for a moment, Loki feared that Laufey would order them to squash him right on the spot, like he was seemingly about to do with Stark, who already was under his foot.

“Odin’s second son,” Laufey said with slow mockery. Apparently he had committed to mind the faces of the entire group during their brief visit to Jotunheim. “We didn’t see you in Asgard when we took advantage of your brother’s absence. Where you hiding here like the graceful damsel you seem to be?”

They all roared with laughter, which was harsh and cold as their homeland, all except Laufey, whose temperament matched that of his Realm; but Loki didn’t move a muscle, praying that the girls could run away in time.

“They said you had a silver tongue,” Laufey continued. “You once nearly convinced your brother of not shedding blood at our Realm. Why won’t you speak now?”

“Midgardians have evolved in a thousand years,” he said at last, when he had stilled his breath. “They are no longer the cowering peasants you once tried to conquer.”

“Do you think that will deter me?” Laufey chuckled.

“I’m just offering you an advice,” the other advised with a friendly smile. “They have mastered the use of fire. You won’t last very long in this Realm, not even with the Casket’s powers.”

Laufey scowled, the Casket glowed, and a strong blizzard hit Loki with full force.

Acting on instinct, he crossed his arms protectively before his face. The sudden coldness took all the air out of his lungs, and a deep pain pierced his being until his whole body felt numb. For a moment which felt like an eternity he felt nothing, not even fear. He should be dead, he knew it, but something was keeping him alive. His senses had been dimmed and there was only darkness around him, but inside that darkness he felt warmth, faint at first, then growing stronger with each heartbeat and extending from his chest to his limbs.

He felt his chest swelling ever so slightly on his ice cage. He could breathe. He tried moving his arms, his fingers and with each movement the space inside the ice expanded.

Then it touched him: It wasn’t a gentle tingling on his fingertips, but jolts of energy running along his body: his magic had returned. Shouting in triumph, he expanded his arms, cracking the ice encasing him and, with a gasp for air, he relished on the feeling of his leather armor protecting him again.

The Frost Giants laughed no longer.

“Ah, the bastard son,” Laufey said in disgust after a moment of shock. “I see that Odin bore no distinction about what he took with him.”

“Perhaps you shouldn’t have discarded me,” Loki ventured. Even if it had taken all his power to keep a straight face at Laufey’s reaction, he would try to lure him into a trap.

“I should have slit your throat like I did to your mother as soon as she farrowed,” Laufey spat. “But you didn’t deserve to die by the blade, as a warrior would; thus I left you to starve as the mongrel that you are. Look at yourself, pathetic creature! Neither a Jotun nor an Asgardian. Tell me, what place is there in the Universe for a monster like you?”

“Whichever I carve for myself,” Loki answered, feeling such coldness inside his hear it could have frozen Jotunheim itself.

A gunshot thundered in the distance and one Giant fell to the ground; instantly, without their king having to order it, a small group summoned their ice armors and dashed towards the buildings where the agents had taken cover. However, it was a cracking sound under his feet which startled Laufey, who saw with surprise how Stark had freed himself and was flying out of his reach. The split second the king took his eyes from him, Loki moved his hands and a dense mist rolled out from his feet, engulfing everything in a moment like a tidal wave.

Confusion reigned between the Frost Giants, but they didn’t dare to move from where they stood. Loki could hear the echoes of the agents firing rounds inside the village, and Stark’s armor plummeting to the ground, to then ascend more slowly, probably as he was lifting the huge ice blocks that were the Asgardians. More room for him to move.

The heavy breathing of the Frost Giants gave away their every position and movement to him. Conjuring illusions to split them into small groups was an easy task, knowing that it was only him on the battlefield to deal with them.

During all his life he had been trained to harness a power that seldom anyone possessed, let alone understand, at least in Asgard. He was also versed on hand-to-hand combat, but he would always choose magic to kill his enemies. He took a special pride on being able to wield sword and shield, or even fighting barehanded should he chose to, and also exploiting a force that only he could use.

But at that moment he felt neither a warrior nor a sorcerer, but a hunter.

It was a matter of time before the Giants panicked and started slashing blindly at the air in front of them. Many of them were killed by their own companions, and the survivors suffered a similar fate at the hands of Loki, who knocked them down shooting daggers to their ankles or knees, to then stab them and slash their throats. There was a time when he would not feel anything during battles, save for the relief of having one enemy less to worry about. But while killing Frost Giants he savored each death, making sure each Giant saw him as he delivered the final blow, and relishing on the fear and rage of their ruby eyes as life escaped from their bodies.

Laufey had surrounded himself with a handful of soldiers which formed a tight circle around their king. One by one Loki shot at their throats; the fortunate ones, for their deaths were the only swift ones.

The king himself cursed Loki aloud, calling him a coward and a trickster who didn’t dare to show his face. He released the Casket’s powers time and time again, in a desperate attempt to trap him in ice a second time. Loki felt a wicked delight as he dodged the Casket’s blizzards and Laufey’s panic peaked.

“It seems like I am no longer as weak as you thought me to be,” he taunted the Giant from his vantage point.

At a gesture of his hand the fog turned into a mist thin enough for Laufey to see his surroundings, but not where Loki was hidden. The Giant’s face fell at seeing his butchered soldiers around him.

“SHOW YOURSELF!” he roared, but only got a chuckle as a response.

He roared a second time, this time in pain and rage as the Casket fell and rolled away from him; a dagger had pierced his right hand.

Loki swiftly took the Casket and hid it, spreading another wave of fog to conceal himself. Then he cleared it enough for Laufey to see above his knees, and the Giant frantically tried to grope his way to his priced artifact, only to find the corpses of his soldiers. He screamed and got up to keep his wound away from the fog, for he didn’t see recently killed bodies, but carcasses made only of skin and bone.

“The walking leech from Svartalfheim,” Loki said mockingly, seeing how Laufey stomped on the ground, trying to kill the parasites that soon would be about to attack him. “They are known for their swiftness at devouring dead bodies, as well as for entering into living creatures through open wounds and eating them alive if hungry enough. Capturing them was tedious, but not as much as keeping them starving until they lost what little mind they had.”

Laufey jumped and howled when he felt the vermin crawling up his calfs, all while keeping his right hand above his head and bating at his legs, in a sort of macabre dance that lasted until the Giant had barely any strength to stay on his feet.

With a single gesture from Loki’s hand, the fog lifted, the empty carcasses turned back into fresh corpses and nothing crawled up Laufey’s legs, who fell on all fours. But Loki was at his side and kicked him hard across the face, forcing him to the ground, to then step between his shoulder blades.

The game was over. Loki clasped the dagger which threatened to slip from his blood-dripping fingers, feeling the delight of having the King of the Frost Giants under his boot, the enemy which Odin had spared and Thor and his all-powerful friends couldn’t stand against.

He kneeled over Laufey’s back, pinning his head firmly to the ground, and lowered himself so his words could reach him.

“Know that your death came with the son of Odin,” he whispered, and Laufey’s snarl stilled in his throat when Loki sunk the blade to the hilt below his ear.

Chapter Text

He saw demonic faces before him, nightmarish creatures which clawed at his body, cutting deep into his armor and his flesh. He tried to defend himself, to fight back, but he had been wounded and his mind couldn’t focus. He saw an opening and flew away as fast as his crippled body would carry him. His torturers didn’t follow him immediately, probably wishing to prolong the sport he was offering them.

He found a place he thought would be safe in the darkness. His pursuers were edging near, their gnarled feet thumping on the cold rocks, their harsh voices murmuring, always closer and closer.

A cry pierced the silence on that dead planet, for another entity was in the vicinity now and the creatures fled before it. Then dread drenched Loki’s whole being like iced water, a primal fear which went beyond any understanding or rationalizing and which threatened to shatter his sanity.

There exist some creatures which precede any other in the Universe, which reigned in an era of chaos and darkness and whose mere presence defies the known laws of Nature. The formerly undisputed rule of such abominations, however, was interrupted billions of years ago, but they still survive as cultures which have forgotten all that made them great but their hubris, and from the dark recesses of the Universe where they persist on existing, they venture sometimes to prey on the inferior beings which serve them as sustenance.

Something got a hold of him. He hadn’t heard it approaching, nor could he defend himself, paralyzed as he was with terror.

He was suffocating.

That something constricted his body but, instead of crushing him, it left him breath just enough to keep him living, and what little air he could take had the stench of rotten flesh on it. He couldn’t move nor scream, only feel that creature he couldn’t see in the darkness prodding into his mind, whispering to him in a language he had never heard, but whose words slowly pierced him to the very core of his soul.

Harsh, white light almost burnt his eyes when he opened them with a scream. It took him several moments of taking long, painful gulps of air to realize that the smell which assaulted his nostrils was that undefined mixture of antiseptics and cleansers. He was in a hospital room.

His head fell back on the pillow and he exhaled deeply. Grimacing, he tried touching his his left cheek, which felt tender, but then he discovered he had been bound to the bed. He tried wrestling his way out of it, as panic mounted, and shouted for someone to help him. A few moments later he saw the door flying open and Thor stepped into the room.

“Brother!” the warrior put a hand on Loki’s chest, pushing him back into the bed. “Is it you, Loki?”

“Of course it is I!” Loki protested. “Unbind me at once!”

But Thor frowned, and Loki feared he would be brought back to Asgard as a prisoner loaded in chains.

“Do you know who I am?” Thor asked cautiously.

Then it dawned on him: his fear had been so intense it had made him forget a very important lesson about the arcane: “The inrush of energy back to a previously sealed body could cause transitory dementia which could be permanent if the restitution was done without supervision”. Or, as Thor put it: Magic can melt your brain.

The few things he could remember when he got his powers back was feeling as if he was drunk. And now he felt as if he was suffering from a hangover.

“Your name is Thor, and you are an oaf.”

The warrior laughed in relief.

“You were so covered in their blood it was almost impossible to see your clothes,” he said, as he undid the restrains. “Sorry about the punch. Mother warned me about you losing your mind and that I had to knock you out if needed.”

 “And that is what explains why my face hurts,” Loki murmured, nursing his left cheek and grimacing.

“I had no choice!” Thor defended himself. “The Midgardians were ready to attack you!”

“Where are the girls?”

“They are safe. Your Lady Jane wanted to be here, but I told her it would be dangerous if you woke up and you weren’t yourself anymore.”

“She didn’t pay any heed to what you said,” Loki said with a knowing smile.

“How did you know?”

“Her scarf is over that chair,” Loki pointed out. “Also, I know her and I have experience with stubborn individuals.”

Thor made a face, averting his eyes.

“We tried to find the Casket,” he said, changing the subject. “Do you know where it might be?”

“I hid it.”

“Where?”

“In a safe place where no mortal will find it. They are too curious for their own good.”

“I still need to know where is that place.”

Loki turned his head and saw that Thor’s eyes were cold and hard. Sighing, he sat up laboriously and closed his eyes to muster his strength. He gestured with both hands and the Casket appeared for him to grab its handles. As he did so, the blue hue spread slowly but relentlessly over his fingers, his arms and the rest of his body under the hospital garbs.

He didn’t look at Thor, convinced that the man had his eyes fixed on his now blue face. Did he have ruby eyes like the other Giants? He couldn’t be sure. Another gesture and he sent the Casket back to the dimensional pocket it had been stored in all that time, and with that his skin came back to normal as slowly as it had changed.

Loki leant back on the pillow, strangely tired from the effort, his eyes fixed on the ceiling again.

“You knew it since our visit to Jotunheim.”

“Why is it that no one listens to me when I say the truth?” Loki sighed. “Yet when I speak in jest everyone turns into the most attentive audience.”

He heard Thor sighing heavily.

“We have more pressing matters,” the god of thunder said, his voice hoarse. “If they could take the Casket, that means…”

“Nothing at all.”

“What?”

“A protective shield can be augmented or diminished, depending on the needs of the caster,” Loki recited. “That the Vault has been left unprotected doesn’t mean that the Palace has fallen entirely, only that the casters needed to reduce the radius since they couldn’t activate the shield’s generator. You still have time to reach them, although what will you do next it’s anyone’s guessing. Remember that the Casket wasn’t the only weapon stored inside the Vault.”

“Won’t you come with us? Mother sent me for you.”

“I have been exiled,” Loki reminded him. “Now that you know what I am, I doubt I would have a place among your warriors, and I doubt even more that Odin would stand the sight of me, even if he knew what I was from the beginning.”

“Father and I argued before he fell into the Odinsleep,” Thor murmured, then shook his head. “No, it was because I argued with him that he spent what little energy he had left and fell asleep. I told him that he was wrong, that you could never try to do such a thing, but-”

“Actually,” Loki interrupted him. “I did.”

“What?” Thor’s head snapped up, but Loki kept glancing at the ceiling.

“I had to show Odin how ill prepared you were to be a king,” he explained calmly. “If it wasn’t so easy to instill your rage, nothing like this would have happened. Father would have gone to sleep in peace, you would be the regent and the Frost Giants would be still rooting in that dead planet of theirs.”

“And I would be blissfully ignorant of my identity,” he added to himself.

“You started a war!” Thor roared.

“You,” Loki hissed, glaring at him. “You delivered the first blow at a simple name-calling when I, as always, nearly saved us all yet again by means of words and wits. But they would have been regarded as mere tricks had we returned unscathed from your little adventure, wouldn’t they?” he sneered, never raising his voice. “You would have swept an entire race had they given you the power, only because you thought it would be a good sport. You, the Golden Child, Asgard’s dream warrior. You know nothing about defeat, about being trampled on and then having to rise from the mud, with your wounds as your own companions and later the scars as reminders that you aren’t invincible. Tell me, brother, how can you love something if you never harbor the fear of losing it? How can you be Asgard’s king if you take for granted that she will be always yours? Odin knew this, though never admitted it because he knew in his heart he couldn’t, because you were his only child and he had no other to turn to.”

Thor’s labored breathing was the only sound on the room when Loki fell silent.

“I shouldn’t have acted when I did,” Loki continued, his eyes fixed on the ceiling. “Father might have forgiven you, as he always did in the past.”

Thor, without looking at him, stood up and slowly paced to the window, clenching his fists all the while.

“Father told me he should have exiled me instead of you,” he said after a long silence, his voice heavy with restrained rage. “Isn’t that enough for you?”

He stood blocking the sunlight, so that his silhouette seemed to glow with an inner light. The Golden Child, even in exile, thought Loki, not without faint resentment.

“Odin and you are very alike,” Loki said, rubbing his forehead to ease the lingering dizziness. “You both have very loose tongues when you are enraged. I suppose he will be disappointed that it wasn’t his son the one to thwart Laufey’s invasion.”

“You knew who you were when you killed them.”

“I am as much a Frost Giant as I am an Aesir,” Loki said, his voice devoid of any emotion. “From neither place but despised in both. From Asgard I always suspected it; from Jotunheim, Laufey left no room for doubt, and that certainty gave strength to my arm.”

“You were Laufey’s son?”

“Bastard son,” Loki corrected. “He recognized me when he saw my blue skin and how small I am. He also confessed to have murdered my mother as soon as he saw that I was not his child. At least he was sincere on his opinion of me.”

Thor said nothing, and Loki didn’t know which expression he had at that moment, for he had closed his eyes, partly to ignore the prince, partly to ease his dizziness and nausea. He heard heavy footsteps, the door opening and closing with a slam. Thor was gone.

Loki passed a hand over his face. He felt exhausted, in body and soul. To the inrush of arcane power back into his body there was the added stress of family arguments.

He rubbed his eyes, trying to dispel the lightheadedness that plagued him, when he remembered he hadn’t eaten since that morning. Had it been that morning? Arcane power restoration could leave the individual unresponsive for many days. No wonder he felt so weak.

Suddenly a cold sweat broke over him and, for a moment, an image of his nightmare flashed before his eyes. He shook his head, trying to calm himself. Dreams were just the manifestation of our inner fears, nothing more, and maybe having his powers returning might have played a part on that.

Loki was still sitting, his face buried on his hands, when he heard the door opening again.

“You are awake!” he heard Jane’s voice beaming as she closed the door behind her. Her smile faltered when he raised his eyes to meet hers. “How are you feeling?”

“Far worse than when you run me over with your van,” he joked.

“That’s not funny,” she told him sternly as she set a tray on the nightstand. “You look pale.”

But she was also showing signs of weariness; despite her smile her cheeks were almost devoid of color, and dark circles had appeared under her eyes.

“How much time have I been sleeping?” he asked.

“What was left of yesterday and the whole night,” she said. “It’s nine in the morning.”

Loki looked at the nightstand. The tray Jane had brought had two paper cups of coffee and a cardboard box. He stretched his arm to take one of the cups but he saw his hand trembling and withdrew it.

“Thor told me that would happen,” she said softly, taking the coffee and putting it on Loki’s hands.

He drank eagerly, feeling the warm liquid warming his body. He was partly Frost Giant, why he felt so cold?

“Your brother told me about your powers returning,” she said, opening the box to reveal several glazed doughnuts. “He said you had to eat. This is not very healthy, but I thought you’d like a treat.”

His stomach grumbled, despite the nausea, and he devoured one in seconds.

“When will they let me go?” he asked, going for a third pastry.

“As soon as we talk to the doctors,” she bit her lip. “Only… we aren’t in a normal hospital.”

He stopped eating and looked at her.

“It’s a SHIELD hospital. Hogun needed surgery and they couldn’t bring all of you to the county ER.”

“Marvelous…” he said, taking a bite from his sixth doughnut.

“They wanted to run tests on you, but your brother sat down at your beside and said he would eviscerate anyone who dared to touch you.”

Loki swallowed and made a face.

“Your skin changed color and everything.”

“What?”

“You skin was blue. Has been like that until… a couple hours before you woke up, maybe. I was worried it was some side effect of what Thor told me about the magic.”

“I was… blue?”

“Yeah, I asked Thor last night if that was normal among Asgardians, but he only said that you were his brother, and that was the only thing that mattered to him.”

“Didn’t he tell you that I could kill you?”

“Look, I don’t know what’s happening in your family,” her face and her voice grew very serious. “I only grew up with my father and have no siblings, so I don’t know how to deal with any of that. I can only tell you that he has been very worried about you, and wouldn’t stop telling me about when you were kids while he watched over you. Even grabbed your hand sometimes and called for you when you looked as if you were having a nightmare. Whatever has happened, give him a chance.”

“Why are you advocating for him?”

“Because we sometimes say things that we regret later, and when we want to amend things it might be too late,” she sighed. “I’ve seen you and I’ve seen him. Give him a chance, all right?”

He chuckled mirthlessly, shaking his head, but agreed to follow her advice, if only to stop speaking about it.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were a prince, of all things?”

“It was a miracle that you believed that I wasn’t from your world. I wasn’t about splitting hairs.”

“Soon you will be all right,” she said, her smile returning. “And on your way home. Say, will you visit from time to time?”

“We will see, first things first.”

The doctors let him go soon after. Thor had been talking to them, and apparently he had convinced them that keeping his brother “to better understand his physiognomy” would be quite detrimental for the safety of everyone in SHIELD. Loki behaved and played along, and the five Asgardians remained inside the compound, unable to leave, but free to do as they pleased.

Loki’s armor was, as Thor had said, so drenched in blood and gore the original colors had been dulled into a dark grey. He left them inside the closet at the private room he had been given, and asked instead for some Midgardian clothes he could wear. Conjuring the Casket had been tiring enough that morning and he didn’t feel like cleaning his clothes.

Magic wasn’t a force which could be defined in a given place and time. It was a continuum which occupied the whole Universe. When he was young he snuck into the library, searching for the books that only his mother could read; there he learned that there were times when the magic wielder could mingle with that same force and see other realities. Magic inrush after a prolonged sealing could cause that effect, so it stands that the nightmare wasn’t just a dream, but something that was happening in another reality.

Looking through the window, he could see that it was a clear afternoon outside. it was impossible to believe that there could be another Loki, in a different reality, who was lost and alone in one of the forbidden, dark corners of the Universe, at the mercy of creatures which had been shunned and forgotten for eons.

He shuddered, the nausea still tugging at his stomach.

Loki straightened his back. He couldn’t let anyone see him like that. Shaking his head, he discarded those thoughts: it was another reality, not him, and even then, he was sure that his other self would find a way to escape and return to Asgard, or whichever place he wanted. He was resourceful and strong, though he feared the price his other self would have to pay in terms of sanity after such brutal ordeal.

The dizziness still clung to him and he fought it back with dogged determination, telling himself that it wasn’t worse than that occasion when he and Thor, still young rascals, drank a whole cask each of that special mead Odin kept aside for great occasions. It hit them so hard the Allfather deemed their fortnight-long hangover a suitable punishment on itself.

He won, at last, and could walk in a straight line to where Jane was waiting for him to go to the cafeteria, but the memory of that vision would still haunt him.

Chapter Text

Chapter 10.

If he knew something about his hosts, he was sure that the rooms he and his companions had been so graciously given were bugged. Strangely enough, that was something he didn’t mind. Let them watch and listen; he didn’t mind them knowing he was a powerful sorcerer.

After waking up, he had spent that day idling, like his companions, but in the evening he tried, in the solitude of his room, to cast a spell which would let him travel back to Asgard. There were many backdoors to each Realm and Loki had discovered them a long time ago, being able to use them whenever he needed them.

But that night he couldn’t find a way to establish that connection. It was as if Asgard had been sealed away.

It was that, or…

No. He refused to even entertain that thought. The destruction of Asgard could only be brought by Ragnarok, and such event would send ripples through the Nine Realms. But the tightness in his chest wouldn’t go and he had to climb to the building’s terrace roof to breathe some fresh air. For the first time in his life he wished the problem was his momentary lack of magic power.

He had spent three long months ruminating about every aspect of his former life, now returned to him. He had come to hate what he knew he would never have again: Asgard was as banished to his heart as he had been from it.

During that time he had to face the likelihood of having to wander Midgard as a human till he died; but a human who had known a greater, more meaningful life. He had laughed often, in the privacy of his home at London, about how many humans would kill (and killed) to live in the sumptuousness he had gathered around himself, while he regarded every commodity and article of luxury as if they were mere trinkets made with primitive materials. He had brooded, too, over how he had craved for any sense of belonging while on Asgard, where he was looked down on for having the gift of magic, an art customarily reserved for women; but when he was a mortal man among other mortal men, he was still different and still stood out.

People who had talked or written about Robert Norwood had depicted him as a good-looking, charming and polite young man, and many had emphasized his sensibleness when spending his wealth despite coming upon a big fortune at such young age. No one had ever seen past that description; no one had ever noticed how he gazed into the distance when he was left alone with his thoughts, when he had to confront a truth no one else knew: he was alone, had always been and would always be.

There were times, however, when an amiable voice asked him why his eyes seemed so hollow. He would always smile at her, and say that it was weariness from the day’s activities. Jane would frown slightly at first, like each time she encountered an error on her calculations, to then smile and ask him to take better care of himself; and sometimes she would joke about him taking some vacations and visiting her at Puente Antiguo. Once he returned the teasing, saying that she was welcome to take her own vacations and fly to England once his home was restored. She had laughed, not without blushing, and had agreed to it, but Loki believed it was simply because she hadn’t taken his words seriously.

Jane puzzled him, above everyone else. She never asked for anything, yet she was always there to lend a listening ear. He once questioned her about it, leaving all caution and tact aside. Far from feeling insulted, she laughed and said: “What are friends for?”

He knew that practicality had to rule his mortal life, even more than his life at Asgard; that emotions could only lead him to ruin, destroying his only hope for triumph. However, the day would come, and he knew it, when he had to leave someone behind him to inherit his name, someone from his own blood. But he was still young: there would be time enough for those matters.

He had thought about the possibility of Jane being the woman who would give him an heir, if she agreed to it. Becoming involved with a mortal was something he didn’t want to do that time but he knew it would be less tiresome if that mortal was her.

But now those plans weren’t relevant anymore. He was Loki again. Long lived. Powerful. Free to do his bidding, and with a victory plucked out from Thor’s very hands. Even when his plans for a quiet and subtle conquest of Midgard had been forfeited the moment it had been revealed that he wasn’t human, he still was free to do what he pleased once they were able to secure Asgard.

Thor, for his part, hadn’t spoken to him again that day. Loki thought he had gone back to his friends, the ones who never questioned whatever he did or said, but when he went to visit Hogun that morning to see how he fared, he didn’t see the prince. The Vanir’s wound was nearly closed, and the warrior gave him a quick nod, while the shadow of a smile played in his lips. Sif offered Loki a forced, thin smile, due probably to being upset that it had been a sorcerer the one to save her life. Fandral, who sat next to a mesmerized Darcy, smiled widely at him and saluted him with one of his flourished bows. It was then when Loki missed someone.

“Where is Volstagg?” he had asked.

The brief glance between Sif and Fandral augured trouble but, as they explained later, Volstagg and Thor, unable to sit idle inside those alien quarters, had gone to the training grounds outside. It was understandable, since Thor had a lot of pent up frustration to release, and the fate of Volstagg’s family was anyone’s guess.

They had held council on Hogun’s room and talked again about building another bridge from Midgard which could be used to return home. Loki advised them about going first to an ally world to gather as many forces as they could. However, nothing could be done as long as they were being kept captives. As much as they were assured that it was a mere security measure, the Asgardians knew better. Still, they couldn’t make any attempt at escaping without fighting and probably killing some Midgardian soldiers, something that wouldn’t help on their relationships with their authorities.

Fortunately for them, Thor had chosen to make a display of his lighting control to relief his frustration, aside from expressing his displeasure at being held captive when his home was under siege. Which is to say, that Thor had conjured a giant thunderstorm over the complex and had sworn he would fry the generators if they didn’t let him speak to their leader.

Far from rushing to his side to ease his wrath, Loki let him do. Sometimes Thor’s temper was useful, and SHIELD needed to know that they remained there because they had chosen to do so.

That evening they were informed that SHIELD’S Director would meet Thor the following morning, and asked the prince to please stop taking aim at the generators or the repairs would be billed directly to Asgard.

It was a victory, though a small one.

Thor seemed more at ease that evening, when he took Loki aside and asked him to go with him to the meeting: “For your tongue will be more useful than Mjolnir,” he only said.

But Loki knew that it wasn’t going to be so easy, and that was why he had tried traveling back to Asgard on his own after that conversation. Then he had tried going to other Realms too, but his powers weren’t strong enough at that moment.

And so he found himself sitting under the starry night, sleep eluding him, mind and heart in turmoil.

The sound of footsteps made him turn his head.

“I didn’t know you were here,” Jane apologized. She was carrying a bundle in her arms. “Did you want to be alone?”

He shook his head and offered her to sit by his side.

“I couldn’t sleep,” she shrugged, throwing the blanket over herself. “Too many things in my mind.”

Loki still said nothing. She offered to share the blanket, and he accepted. He had surprised himself rubbing his hands because they felt chilly. He wanted to believe that his body was still adjusting to the magic, for he was supposed to be resistant to cold, yet he felt his muscles relaxing under the blanket’s warmth.

It wasn’t until that moment that he realized how much so trivial an act of kindness could hurt him.

He stole a glance towards Jane, but her honey eyes were fixed on the starry sky.

“Why are you doing this?” he asked.

She looked at him with a puzzled expression.

“For three months you have been there,” he said, averting his eyes. “Yet you never asked for anything.”

“I already had what I wanted. My research is my life, and you returned it to me. I’m grateful for that.”

“That’s why you keep me company?”

Jane laughed, lightly squeezing his arm.

“No, it’s because that’s what friends do! Already told you many times!” she chuckled, then she smiled sadly. “I know what is to be alone, and that we need someone who believes in us. You know? I thought you’d keep your distance once you were famous and rich. I’m glad you didn’t.”

He bit his lip. The tightness in his chest was almost suffocating.

Centuries ago he would visit Midgard with Thor and his friends. While the others had fun inspiring admiration form the simple people, Loki liked to disguise as a Midgardian to see how their lives were. Once Thor grew weary of the lack of proper battlefields, and Odin forbade any direct intrusion in foreign worlds, Loki still kept visiting, fascinated by how persevering its inhabitants were, despite their short lifespan and their fragility, and how easy was pretending to grow old and feign his death. More than once Loki would spend a few years with a lover, or even a spouse, and once he fathered several children with the same wife. Now that thought had come back to plague him, thinking that, although many generations have passed, there was Jotun blood coursing through the veins of mortal humans.

“Erik told me that your father died. Is that why you say you were alone?”

“I was still in college,” she explained. “My father had been discredited by the scientific community because of his studies. It didn’t bother him, or so he said, and he kept going on. Erik helped us a lot back then, and when dad died, he helped me too. There was also Donald, if only for a bit.”

“The name in the tag?” Loki ventured. He remembered that name, but he wasn’t very sure.

“Yes, Donald. He was a doctor, and a good one. He was great with patients but…” she chuckled. “He was terrible with relationships. Well, he was actually a medicine student at the hospital my dad was admitted in before dying. I guess I clung to whatever I had at hand. Anyway, he came to the funeral and offered to talk about it if I needed to, and we started seeing each other, first as friends, and then dating. Everything was wonderful at first: I had someone at my side who was confident, who would give everything for his patients, and I was a mess by that time, so I guess I needed to feel safe, but with time it got sour.

“When I finished my studies he was already a doctor, but he wouldn’t hear about me going to investigate my father’s theory,” she mimicked a deep, manly voice: “What’s with looking so much at space? With so many people in need here on Earth you go chasing after little green men?” she shook her head. “That was our first real argument. I could get him to accompany me to New Mexico, but not before I had to cry my eyes out to convince him of how important that theory was for me,” she scoffed. “And after two months there he just packed his things and told me he had gotten a job in… I don’t know which prestigious hospital. Can’t even remember the name. And that’s the last I knew from Donald Blake. I’m still trying to understand why he did it. I mean, it was always me the one who had to give up on things, was it that hard to do something for me for a change?”

“That certainly rings a bell,” he chuckled. “He wanted to save your world, so he didn’t have time for anything else. Helping ill people is wonderful, but I don’t think your Donald did it for the altruistic reasons everyone might think.”

“No?”

He shook his head, a mischievous glint on his eyes.

“Patients were his way to enlarge his ego, and you were a patient, until you weren’t anymore. Then he lost interest and went away.”

“I… hadn’t thought of it that way,” she murmured, frowning.

“When you live such a long life, you learn a thing or two,” he chuckled. “Heroes often try to encompass so much they forget what they have next to them,” he took her hand and held it up between them. “Let him try to save the world, one patient at a time,” he said. “You have a whole universe to discover.”

“This is starting to sound like mutual therapy.”

They laughed, and he loosened his grip, but she didn’t let him go. Instead, she leaned on his shoulder as she returned to stargazing.

He felt his mouth running dry and his whole body stiffening. What bothered him was the feeling of heat rising from his chest to his face. But it felt nice having her near. She was so trusting and so open… he wondered how she had survived for so long.

Would she trust him to the end?

“Jane,” he paused, leaning his cheek on her hair so she didn’t have to look at him in the eye. “The invaders I killed… I’m one of them.”

“I know,” she said, not making any movement.

“What?” he sat upright with a jolt.

“Same blue skin and same tattoos as the Giants, also same red eyes. Thor covered you with his cape after he knocked you out and forbade anyone to get near you. And the way he told your friends that it was just magic, it was more an order than an excuse: Believe it or else. And then you constantly asking me if I was afraid of you.”

He stammered the start of an excuse.

“Are you a deterministic?” she asked.

“What?”

“That you believe that our life is-”

“I know what that means, but-”

“Stop moping.”

“I don’t-”

“You have been brooding since you woke up. You really think your DNA changed the moment you learned about your real dad and that you are now a murderer? That’s not how it works. What’s the story between Asgard and the Frost Giants, anyway?”

Loki tried reordering his thoughts as fast as he could. Jane made him feel dizzy sometimes with how quickly she fired questions at him.

He recounted a summary of the story of the Jotun, how they used the Casket of Ancient Winters to bring an Ice Age to Midgard, and how Odin fought them and sent them back to Jotunheim.

“That’s how he took the Casket and took me. And Laufrey was furious about the relic, but didn’t care about me because I was supposed to die, as he kindly told me before I murdered him.”

A long silence followed his words. In the distance they could see the soldiers changing guard for the night shift.

“Okay,” she murmured after a while. “That’s a lot.”

Then she raised her head and looked straight at him.

“So you are supposedly an enemy of Asgard because of your race,” she mused. “But you have been living there without a problem, wouldn’t that count?”

“Is not that easy…”

“How so? Your brother is Asgardian, right? C’mon, they can’t hold that against you!”

Even if Thor hadn’t forsaken him, he still felt there was nothing for him in Asgard. But she had a point.

“If Asgard falls,” he said, more to himself than to her. “All the other Realms will either be plunged into chaos or destroyed. Even Midgard will fall.”

“And you will help protecting it,” she insisted. “They won’t reject you that way!”

Yes, protecting! A monster protected nothing, created nothing, died for nothing. A king protects what it’s rightfully his own, a king builds and makes his domains thrive into prosperity and peace. Asgard would know peace after this war; Midgard too, after centuries of mortals blindly trying to discern which way should they take.

He knew that Thor would prove some day that he was not worthy of the throne, and so Loki prepared himself accordingly. Everything changed when his heritage was uncovered, but now it wouldn’t matter anymore. He would rise as a protector.

He had nothing if not time.

Chapter Text

He felt a rush of vertigo as he drifted in dark, suffocating darkness. It stopped abruptly as his feet seemed to land on a hard surface; little by little, motes of light swirled around him and the darkness dissolved into a dimly lit room. The architecture was Midgardian, reminiscent of what he had seen in monasteries in the region known as Asia. He saw through the windows that it was night time outside; the trees surrounding the monastery rustled with a sudden gust of wind and a night bird cried in the distance. The scent of incense created an atmosphere which invited to meditation, but Loki knew better than that.

As soon as he became aware of the illusion, a figure appeared in front of him: A woman, her head shaved and dressed in the robes of a high-rank monk; her slender hands played with a wooden fan, probably a magic focus, Loki thought.

“Who are you?” he asked.

“I’m pleased to see you have found your way here,” she said with an amiable smile that didn’t quite reach her green eyes. “Please excuse the illusions, but I wanted to assess your abilities.”

“What for? What is this place?”

“Tell me, Loki of Asgard, how is your magic recovery going?”

He tensed, suddenly sensing her magic power, far stronger than it would be natural for a Midgardian. Her features warmed, and her smile became sincere.

“Surprised? I am the Sorcerer Supreme. My life had been longer than any human’s and that has given me time to train in the arcane arts. I’ll get to the point: My order is tasked with guarding this world against any menace from other dimensions, real or potential.”

“Look, madam, I-”

“The magic of the Allfather is among the most powerful in this universe,” the woman continued, ignoring Loki’s interruption. “Not seeking to break the seal on your own was a wise decision, but some things cannot be helped. The uncontrolled magic inrush could have destroyed your mind, but instead it let you access the Astral Plane, albeit without control. That’s where I should intervene.”

Loki chuckled.

“What are you talking about?” he asked.

“The vision you had wasn’t you accessing another reality, but another reality trying to latch onto you.”

He kept his body language neutral, but he felt a shiver down his back. Try as he might, he couldn’t erase that memory.

“You still feel it,” she observed, taking a step towards him.

He stepped back on instinct.

“Who are you?” he repeated, his hands subtly preparing a spell.

“Someone who can help you,” she said. “So, please, don’t try to cast anything in this room. This space has been protected, so only I can weave spells. You risk becoming an anchor for something that is more ancient than the Allfather’s forefathers, and so terrible that a single glance can destroy a mortal’s mind. And before that power, all your plans for my world would seem like child’s play.”

“I don’t-”

“You intended to conquer us,” she continued. “To govern us to sate your slighted ego. But tell me: Is it worth imitating those who scorned you because of your magic powers? When you had Laufrey at your mercy, you said you would carve your own path. Was it just an empty boast?”

It took a few seconds for Loki to process that information. Not just the questions, but the fact that this mortal could know so much about him. Of course he wanted to reign! Wasn’t that his birthright? Bastard or not, he was a prince, and he had a calling to fulfill.

“What if I told you that there are more rewarding goals than the one you obsess over?”

“Like what?” he spat, finally reacting. “Making a vow of silence and sitting atop a mountain until I wither and die?”

“Sarcasm is a good defense, but not very effective against me,” she retorted. “How about protecting what you hold dear?”

He lowered his gaze. What did he hold dear anymore?

Then his thoughts drifted towards Asgard. He had convinced himself that it was closed to his heart, but the mere thought of the golden palace under siege made him sick. Then he thought of his mother, Frigga, who hadn’t birthed him, yet had raised him with all the love a real mother could spare, and he despaired because he didn’t know her fate. And then he thought of Jane, as strong of mind as a human could be, but fragile and short lived.

The woman gently tapped the fan over her hand, the sound bringing Loki’s attention back to her.

“I’ve seen many apprentices coming to my doorstep seeking guidance and teaching,” she said, as she slowly paced along the room. “Desperate and broken. Most would find what they sought, but others became prisoners of their own plight, and what was once a virtuous wish turned into a dark obsession, destroying them.”

She turned to him, her face a cold mask.

“Were you a human, I would offer to train you, if only to help you control your power; but you have already acquired most of the knowledge I’d be willing to teach. I can, however, cast a ward over you, so you can regain your strength without any danger.”

“What’s the catch?”

“There is no catch. I’m not doing this out of the kindness of my heart, mind you, but thinking first and foremost about the safety of my world. You are a potentially dangerous being, Loki of Asgard, not only because of your power, but because of the many possibilities that lie before you.”

“Aren’t we all?”

She chuckled, a brief, restrained sound that had no mirth in it, and disappeared as suddenly as it had appeared; then she threw him a poignant glance.

“I do not possess the power to see into other people’s futures, but I know you have spent all your life believing there would be only one single purpose worth attaining for you. You are a skilled sorcerer, yet you insist on using physical weapons like your brother and you father.”

“He’s not my father,” Loki hissed.

“And yet you seek his approval,” she said scathingly. “You desperately want his acknowledgment, but in seeking it so frantically you might never attain it. Such is the paradox that has blinded you. You have the potential to either sow death and suffering, or rise as a savior. I am not here to discuss philosophy with you, nor am I to guide you down any path, but I want you to be aware that there are many choices still before you.”

Loki smiled wryly.

“And you pretend that I turn into a sanctimonious, righteous hero, just by talking me into it?”

“No,” her green eyes danced with amusement. “There’s another human besides me, who is younger and closer to your heart, who surely has an opinion on that matter. That conversation is not for me to listen, but I suspect she won’t look kindly on your intentions towards our world. Tell me, have you stopped to think what would Jane Foster say about it?”

“Leave her out of this,” he growled.

“No, because she will suffer the same fate as us. Or were you thinking of keeping her in a safe, privileged place while the rest of us are in chains? She might be a woman of logic and science, but her sense of justice is just as strong. The choice is yours, but rest assured that she can tell right from wrong far better than you.”

Her hands moved as she talked, tracing a patter in the air which shone with golden sparks. The woman clapped her hands once and closed her eyes, murmuring an incantation: A magic ward. The pattern dissolved, and the golden lights flew around Loki, enveloping him and vanishing into his body.

“You will be protected until your own natural wards are strong enough,” the woman said. “No go, and remember the crossroads ahead of you.”

The woman disappeared before Loki could say anything, as well as the temple and the trees outside. Darkness enveloped him once more as he felt again falling into nothingness.

He woke up in the middle of the night, his mind still confused by the strange dream. The chills he had been suffering since he woke up after breaking the seal were no more, and magic felt again as the warm and comforting force he had always known.

Chapter Text

The next morning an assistant accompanied Thor, Loki and Jane to the meeting room. The space was as cold and unwelcoming as the rest of the complex, and the lack of windows made the atmosphere almost unbearable.

Loki was surprised to see that Stark had been invited to the meeting. Far from standing up to greet them, the man lounged on his chair while browsing on his phone, only waving his hand towards the door as soon as it opened. At Tony’s left and at some distance, a tall, dark skinned man stood with his hands behind his back, looking less than pleased to be there. Judging by his physique, his scars and the patch covering his missing left eye, he was a seasoned warrior, and his countenance betrayed a barely restrained fierceness: Director Fury, in the flesh. There was something deeply unpleasant about that man who, instead of offering his hand as was the custom in that country, just nodded and sat down, but still kept assessing Thor and Loki with a calculating eye.

There was a female agent standing at Fury’s left: Maria Hill. She was tall, dark-haired and blue-eyed and, while she displayed the same trained, neutral mien as his coworker Coulson, there was something lacking in terms of warmth; although, when she saw Thor, her face softened into the same expression of admiration Loki had seen on many a female who gazed upon the thunder god’s physique.

“Very well,” Director Fury said once they were all seated. “You wanted to see me. Here I am.”

“We are tired of waiting,” Thor spoke. “My Realm is enduring a siege. We must return home, my warriors, my brother and myself, and we need your help.”

“You see, that’s the problem,” Fury retorted, leaning over the table. “We build you a gate, an Einstein-Rosen Bridge. Then what?”

“We leave Midgard and we go defend our home.”

“Yeah, sure,” Fury chuckled. “And what guarantees us that no other crazy alien will come over here? You think that what happened at Puente Antiguo won’t repeat in other parts of the World?”

“That’s very unlikely,” Loki interrupted when he saw Thor’s eyes flashing. “Laufey’s troops must have noticed their king’s absence by now, but the fact that they haven’t sent reinforcements yet suggests that our Guardian could damage the Bifrost’s controls, rendering it useless. But that will be only a momentary delay, and in the end other Realms will fall if Asgard is conquered.”

“You don’t seem to understand,” agent Hill said. “We don’t want to open the possibility of an outer invasion. We thank you for killing the Frost Giants, but we don’t want to bring any more attention over us.”

“What we want to do,” Fury continued. “And what we have been doing during these months is studying what you call the Bifrost and designing a successful method of protecting Earth from yours, or any method of transportation.”

“You can’t be serious!” Jane exclaimed.

“I’m always serious, Miss Foster,” Fury chided her. “We would be more than pleased to go for a walk, visit other worlds and sing peace in the universe with other civilizations, but it turns out that there are people out there who wish to conquer our planet and I’m not having it.”

Loki chuckled, attracting Fury’s attention.

“To what extent does your pride go?” he asked Fury, still smiling. “If you have been able to evolve from your hide tents and wooden cottages to your crystal skyscrapers, it was because Asgard has been keeping the peace between the Nine Realms during all this time. Had you studied the Bifrost, as you claim, you would know that you will never be able to shield yourself from it with your current technology and, even if you could, you would have to tap into powers which would vaporize your planet at a single miscalculation.”

“Is that true?” Fury directed his eye towards Jane.

“If you had consulted me you would know,” she answered. She was pale with anger. “I’m trying to understand it, not work against it.”

“Okay then, for the sake of argument,” Fury continued. “So, let’s pretend that we build it. I’ve read the reports and we all know here that we would need so much energy the entire country would suffer a blackout.”

“Actually,” Stark raised his hand, still looking at his cell. “The arc reactor’s technology could do that,” he raised his eyes to the others. “In a few decades, of course.”

“There is a source,” Loki interrupted. “An ancient treasure from Asgard, hidden here by the Allfather.”

“You don’t mean…” Thor’s voice trailed away.

“The Tesseract? Yes,” Loki said. “And I happen to know where it was hidden.”

Stark looked up from his cell, recognition on his shrewd eyes, but said nothing.

“Well,” Fury sneered. “Someone got his hands on it some decades ago, but it was lost and now we don’t know where to find it.”

“Lost?” Thor’s voice was low and steady, but he clenched his fists over the table. “How could you misplace it?”

“Look, protectors,” Fury glared at him. “While you were playing high and mighty up there we have been dealing with some serious shit down here, like two worldwide wars, the last one involving a crazy asshole who wanted to enslave or wipe out almost the entire world population, and-”

“OUR TASK WAS TO PROTECT YOU FROM OUTER DANGERS, NOT FROM YOURSELVES!” Thor bellowed.

“And now we wish to protect you from an external menace, now that you have learned how to live more or less in peace,” Loki added.

“And save your asses, while you are at it,” Fury’s constant derision was getting on their nerves.

“Saving our home is crucial, yes,” Loki answered, more and more convinced that Fury didn’t even want to consider their demands. “We have already explained our motivations.”

“And I have already explained ours,” Fury concluded. “This decision is a very delicate one, and we will need time to reach a consensus.”

“That is well and good,” Loki intervened. “But, what about our freedom? I hope you are aware that we remain under your agents’ surveillance because we happen to agree with your formalities… for now. And think about the maintenance costs: Our friend Volstagg would eat like five of your heftier men, but now that he’s under a great stress he eats like ten; and Thor…”

“I could take them in,” Stark interrupted with his casual attitude.

“How’s that so?” Fury asked.

“You wanted me as an advisor, right?” Stark addressed the Director with a trace of venom in his voice. Whatever their relationship was, it seemed tense at the best of times. “Now that I can’t join your boy band because I’m not suitable, I’d like to do other things, like keeping these people under surveillance. Unlike you, I happen to like them.”

“I’m sorry, Stark, but that’ not possible,” Fury turned to them. “You will remain here until further notice.”

“Director,” Loki spoke very quickly, for Thor was about to lose his temper again. “There must be another way to solve this situation. As I said, we remain here on our own volition but, even when we do not wish to bring any harm upon you, our patience is limited.”

“C’mon, Fury,” Stark prodded. “I have the safest of homes! JARVIS will take care of them.”

“Director,” Hill said quietly. “Mr. Stark is right. Our guests’ demands are more than our superiors would allow us to keep.”

Fury seemed to ponder the offer for some seconds, until at last, to Loki’s relief, he agreed to have Stark taking them to one of his homes.

However, Thor seethed as they exited the room, but Loki’s hand on his shoulder and a signal that they would speak in another place held his tongue.

Even so, Loki was very tempted to leave the thunder god trying to beat some sense into that man’s head.

xxxxXX-0-XXxxxx

“What? We are trapped here?” Volstagg’s voice had a ring very akin to panic.

“Mr. Stark has offered us his own dependencies,” Loki said. “I’m sure he will provide for us for the moment.”

“That’s not enough!” Volstagg yelled, but Thor grabbed his arm and seemed to whisper something that silenced him, although he didn’t look very convinced.

“Can we go home?” Darcy said.

“Unfortunately, no,” Loki answered, but added quickly: “At least for the moment. They will inform us when we will be free to move around.”

“Why are you suddenly taking charge of things?” Sif asked. She had barely uttered a word since the previous day. “Who’s to say that you are not in league with them?”

“SIF!”

Thor’s roar startled the human girls.

“My brother is the only one who knows how this new Midgard works,” he continued with a softer voice. “He is to be our guide in this situation. I trust him with my life, as you should.”

No one said a word. Sif nodded stiffly and exited the room, but Loki knew she was on the verge of tears. Any wound she would endure, except the ones delivered by Thor, but her hurt pride couldn’t be compared to Loki’s surprise at Thor’s words.

“Shouldn’t we…” Jane started, motioning for the door.

“It’s no use,” Fandral, shook his head. “She’s better left alone when she’s this upset. Tomorrow she will be fine.”

That very afternoon they were all formally introduced to Tony Stark, who had brought his private jet to take them home. It had been agreed that they would travel to Stark’s private island in the south, where there would be no risk of contact with civilians. They had been reticent at first, but their options were limited.

As they boarded the jet, Loki observed that Stark threw a murderous glance towards the SHIELD compound, specifically, where Fury’s office would be. It had been a fleeting gesture, but it had been there.

xxxxXX-0-XXxxxx

The muffled rumbling of the jet’s motors offered a comfortable background noise. Loki observed the interior, partly admiring it and partly committing every detail to memory for his future purchase.

Stark emerged from the pilot’s cabin with a half-smile and clapped his hands to attract everyone’s attention.

“All right, ladies and gentlemen,” he said. “I know Fury told us to go to one of my islands and I really, REALLY wanted to do that, but you see,” he started counting with his fingers. “One house is still having its roof repaired after a hurricane hit it, in another the kitchen exploded due to a gas leak, other was hit by a tsunami, okay, you get the picture. We are going to my ranch in Nevada. Sure, that one eyed conniving bastard will know in time, but it will give us a few hours. Now we talk, shall we?”

He sat down, not before opening a small fridge and offering everyone a drink.

“All right, the Tesseract,” he said at last. “What if I told you that I know Fury might have it?”

Thor nearly choked on his beer.

“Why didn’t you speak in the meeting?” he raised his voice.

“Because saying so might tip him off and put him on high alert,” Stark took a sip from his glass, which could have been filled with vinegar, seeing the grimace he made. “My father studied the Tesseract. It’s a long story, and it has to do with him helping found SHIELD, something I didn’t know until recently. Okay, the thing is, that his personal notes mentioned it and the energy that it could produce. When I first read that notebook it I had no idea what it was all about, but I remembered the name the moment you said it,” he pointed at Loki. “And I know Fury would never get his hands off something like that.”

“Where is the Tesseract?” Thor asked.

“We still have to guess that,” Stark raised his voice and seemed to speak to someone above him. “JARVIS?”

The same disembodied voice that Loki had heard inside Stark’s experimental suit filled the plane.

“Sir?”

“I want you to search for my father’s papers in the archives. Go to the last annotations from the last notebook and display them here.”

In a few seconds they saw a projected image of a drawing of the Tesseract.

“Is this what you are looking for?”

“Yes,” said Loki. The drawing from Tony’s father was almost the same as the ones in Asgard’s books.

“Right,” Stark smiled. “When we land we will start working. In the meanwhile JARVIS can look for it in the SHIELD archives.”

Those news seemed to lighten the mood, and from that moment on they started chatting more animatedly about what they could do once they landed. They seemed to see the proverbial light at the end of the tunnel.

Chapter Text

Stark’s ranch in Nevada was furnished with all the luxuries one could expect from someone as wealthy as him, but the feature that the millionaire valued most was that it was far, far away from any town or village, which allowed him to perform the most dangerous experiments without risking being sued for loud explosions and fire. Not that he minded being fined, but he sometimes wanted to tinker in peace, and if a missile went off course, there was no danger of destroying anyone’s home.

The warehouse he had built after he had purchased the property had enough space to store a medium sized plane, and the ceiling had been modified so Stark could open it. It had been intended for Stark’s personal projects but, since he found out that Malibu had better weather and even better parties, he practically abandoned the house. Consequently, his past plans for a second warehouse had been abandoned, thus making the first task of the newcomers to clear the building from metal girders (specially reinforced, per Mr. Stark’s design) and other construction materials which wouldn’t be used.

Tony’s idea of synthesizing that new element in a bigger quantity was, in theory, an easy feat.

In theory.

What Stark never accounted for was the fact that he had been extremely lucky the time he “produced” the tiny triangle that now powered his portable reactor. After the first attempt inside the warehouse at the ranch resulted in an explosion and a small fire, JARVIS calmly reported the one in a billion chance of success in the first try, with that small quantity, and how such odds diminished exponentially with each additional milligram of metal to be transformed into the new element.

“We have to find the Tesseract,” Thor said, leaving the fire extinguished he had used on a table. “We cannot tarry here any longer.”

“JARVIS has yet to find anything,” Stark mused, drumming pensively his fingers on a table.

“Can’t we negotiate?” Loki asked.

“There’s no talking with that guy, trust me,” Tony said as he paced towards the desk where Jane hunched over a screen, her dark-circled eyes fixed on the information displayed there. Neither she nor Darcy had gotten much sleep the previous night with the construction of the reactor and the portal. “And getting on his bad side is not something you wanna do, unless you don’t mind being painted as the villain of the story,” then he pointed at something in the screen as he spoke to Jane. “Don’t rack your brains over it,” he told her. “Your numbers are correct. There’s not enough energy.”

“Is not that,” she said. “While you were talking I asked JARVIS to make a search for Erik and-”

“Make a what?” he exclaimed in disbelief, then he told the computer. “JARVIS, since when are you working for others?”

“She asked me to do it, sir,” the synthetic voice answered. “She argued, quite correctly, that Dr. Selvig would be a priceless addition to our project.”

Loki had to suppress a smile when he saw Stark frowning.

“Ok, so, have you found anything?” the millionaire asked Jane.

“That’s the thing, he seems to have vanished!” she exclaimed in frustration. “He resigned from his job two weeks ago and hasn’t been seen anywhere since then.”

“Two weeks, uh?”

“Erik told me once that he knew a man who was an expert on gamma radiation,” said Jane. “But he ran into trouble with SHIELD and no one has ever seen him again.”

“The guys at SHIELD aren’t assassins, at least not with people like Dr. Selvig,” Tony waved his hand. “You sure your friend didn’t go on a vacation trip? I disappeared like that a couple of times.”

“Why don’t we search SHIELD for him?” Darcy said, her fingers flying over the keyboard of the laptop she was sitting at.

All eyes were on her, and Jane was the only one who showed a knowing smile. Stark shook his head.

“Well,” he said. “I s’pose I could enter their system and…”

“JARVIS,” Darcy ordered the computer. “Try to input these commands.”

Stark edged behind Darcy with a frown at first, then he stared at the computer, and he seemed fairly pleased to see whatever the screen was displaying.

“What are they doing?” Thor murmured to Loki.

“Extracting information,” he said in the same low tone. “I sometimes marvel how they can even do anything with such primitive devices.”

Thor nodded, and added that he felt as if he was inside the museum they had at home.

“I found it!” Darcy called them. “We are in! But that’s all I can do. We would need a higher clearance to read more. It’s easy to enter, but I can’t go up from here.”

“And this is where daddy takes the reins,” Stark said, sitting beside Darcy and dragging the laptop towards him. “That wasn’t so bad, you know. I think there was a free post at our Cyber Security department if you are ever interested.”

Lines of commands ran up the screen as Stark typed. It took him some moments until the computer showed again any information that Loki could understand.

Stark stood up as he ordered JARVIS to project the information.

“Yes, sir,” the computer answered. Immediately, pictures and paragraphs filled the space in front of them. One title caught Loki’s attention: Joint Dark Energy Mission.

“The NASA appears to be also involved with SHIELD,” JARVIS commented.

“But that alone doesn’t mean anything at all,” Stark said, still analyzing the data.

“Dark energy,” Thor read aloud. “Father told me that it was used to replace the Bifrost in case it failed.”

“That would explain why they hired an expert like Selvig to work for them,” Stark said. He clicked his tongue. “They are trying to build their own portal, it seems.”

“Can we assume that’s where the Tesseract is?” Thor asked.

“Probably,” Stark said. “99.9 percent sure.”

“It’s worse than that,” Loki said somberly. “If they open a portal without the correct coordinates they could summon the very thing they want to avoid.”

“Why?” Jane asked. They were all around Stark now, who had made the projections disappear.

“The Tesseract is more than an infinite energy source,” Loki explained. “It can also be used as a door by itself, a two-way portal which can open to any place in our universe or any other dimension. When you open a door, you can cross it, but other things can enter too.”

“How do you know that?” Thor asked him.

“Because I spent whole afternoons studying at the Academy’s library,” he said sharply. “While you were busy waving your wooden sword around with your friends.”

“Wow,” Stark chuckled. “It’s also like that up there! All right, I might pull some strings, but you will have to wait,” the he added to Thor, seeing that he was clenching his fists. “As much as I’d like to storm that place and teach Fury a lesson, these people have ties with the government and their agents mean business. One sign of aggression and they switch over to kill mode. There’s another option: We keep working on our little project while we wait until Fury decides what to do with you. Worst case scenario, he summons some critter he can’t fight and he has to ask you for help.”

They kept discussing what would they do, but they always bumped into the same problem: Not starting a conflict with Midgardian forces.

Tired and disillusioned, they decided to continue the following day.

The Warriors Three and Sif insisted on staying up and patrolling the surrounding area, but Stark assured them that no one would set foot on several miles around without JARVIS warning them. Their more than apparent disappointment was balanced by Thor’s words of gratitude for Stark’s hospitality.

Loki, for his part, remained in the living room with Jane, who was too worried about Erik and everything that had transpired in the last days to sleep. She kept going through her formulas and numbers together with Loki, who humored her despite knowing that everything was correct.

The words from that strange woman kept playing in his mind, despite his best efforts to shut her voice down. What irked Loki wasn’t that she had seen through him, but the fact that there might be a miscalculation in his plans.

It was true that he had devised a plan to keep Jane at his side, though he knew it had to be her choice. That was, of course, when he was human. Once he had his powers back he didn’t have much time to rethink his long term plans, but it was true that he had pondered, if only for a moment, infiltrating Asgard and take a few of Idunn’s apples for Jane. He had always thought she would be amenable to the idea of a long life; after all, most humans he had encountered wished for eternal life, and for power.

“What would you think of eternal life?” he asked, absentmindedly browsing through the reports on a tablet.

“What?” she raised her eyes from her notebook for the first time in an hour.

“Long life,” he said, still pretending he read the long list of coordinates. “What would you think about living for thousands of years.”

Jane pondered the question for a moment, but for Loki it felt like a very long time.

“That wouldn’t be natural,” she said a last. “Humans are made to live a century, more or less.”

“But, what if you could override that condition?” he insisted, finally looking at her and offering an apologetic smile. “Humor me, please.”

She frowned, looking at some point beyond the coffee table in front of them.

“It would be fine at first, I guess,” she said. “Lots of time to study and develop your theories, or get better at a hobby. No one would have to leave a lifetime investigation for the next generation and pray that they do it right. But it would be nice only if everyone around you had the same life expectancy. Surviving everyone is not something I’d like to see.”

“You would be the first human to reject eternal life,” Loki laughed, while he felt quite the opposite inside.

She smiled briefly, but then she seemed to search for the correct words.

“You know? When I was still mourning my father I talked to someone, to help me overcome it, and I said something about that. She told me that we don’t actually want eternal life, but to preserve a moment in time: Maybe our childhood, a really good summer, the first years of a marriage or the first time you met someone, that sort of thing. She told me that life changes, whether we want it or not, and that living longer would only mean having to put up with even more changes.”

“So death is the solution?”

“No!” she laughed. “Just… adapt, and live with whatever life throws at you until you are done,” then her smile vanished, and the look she gave him made his heart stop. “Is it because you will live longer than me?”

“I… yes, in a way,” he said, mastering his voice not to stammer. “There could be a way to prolong your life, if you wanted.”

Jane fell silent, and Loki could have sworn he could hear his own heart thundering inside his chest.

“I don’t want eternal life,” she said without looking at him. “I wish I could…”

Loki realized his mistake too late. She had told him what had happened with Donald Blake and how he pressured her to follow his every step, forfeiting whatever project she might have for herself. And there he was, asking her almost the same thing.

Jane chuckled, still not looking at him.

“Sorry,” she said, rubbing her eyes. “It’s not like me to get so emotional.”

“We just had too many long days,” he said, a bit befuddled of what she considered being emotional. “And you pulled two all-nighters in a row.”

She nodded, but then she passed a hand over her face.

“I’m just so worried about Erik,” she confessed. “And I want to help you, and-”

“You have done far more than I would have expected of anyone,” Loki tried comforting her, though his words felt clumsy and out of place. “We have faced worse odds and come out victorious. Have faith in us.”

A pious lie. They had never confronted such a threat, and Loki had no idea of how they could come out on top.

She claimed the emotional outburst had left her exhausted, and said she wanted to turn in. Loki accompanied her to her room, to ensure that she actually went inside instead of sneaking into the warehouse to keep working. But before saying goodnight, he had a question burning inside him: What would have she done, had he remained a human?

Her answer didn’t come easy: she blushed and looked the other way, the hint of a smile playing on her lips.

“I wanted it to be a surprise,” he confessed. “But, what would you say if I purchased some land here in the States, somewhere quiet where the sky is clear, where you could install your laboratory and work in peace? Would you have accepted my invitation?”

Jane looked at him wide eyed.

“I…” he forced himself to stop talking when he sensed he could stammer. Instead he used that beat for effect. “I wanted to offer something to you as a sign of appreciation, and that was all I could do as Robert Norwood.”

She seemed taken aback and he couldn’t read or understand her gesture: she covered her face with both hands and, after some seconds which felt like centuries, she slid her hands until her palms were together, as in praying, as tears rolled down her cheeks. A ragged sigh was the only sound that came out of her at first, then she took a deep gulp of air, as if building up the courage to speak. She croaked the start of a word, cleared her throat while wiping her tears, and said:

“You kept asking me why I never gave up on you. I just wanted to study you. I was…” she swallowed hard. “I wanted to make a discovery, to prove my father’s theory through you. At least at first. Then you pulled off the lost heir trick and suddenly you were thousands of miles away from me, but never wanted to break contact, despite you being all rich and famous. And then it turns out that you are an ancient god from the myths, with powers and everything, and you have to go to war to save your home that is in another planet.”

She stopped, biting her lips.

“Your family needs you, and here I was wishing you hadn’t recovered your powers, and then you come and drop that bomb offering me my own land and I don’t want to burden you with my own worries and…”

He almost burst out laughing, not because he found her comical, but out of pure relief.

Relief at seeing how much alike they were and had been from the start, and because he had suspected of her intentions from the very first moment.

He had wanted her near, that was the truth, and his plan involved a mutual material benefit: he would finance her endeavors once SHIELD was a hindrance and would protect her from them, and in turn she could do all the leg work at recreating a Bifrost for him.

There had been nothing altruistic in his offer: he only intended to give her something she would be amenable to and, given how SHIELD acted, she was likely to seek his protection.

Such had been his plan, and she seemed not displeased with it. And so they played along, keeping contact almost every day. The conversations they had proved to be a much needed relief for him some days. After a time, her questioning about Asgard and its technology became non-existent, and instead they talked about many other things that had nothing to do with other worlds. He firmly believed that said conversations were also a simple exchange of information, and so he never let his guard down, carefully curating every piece of information that came out of him.

Her body language made him suspect that her emotions could be turning into something else: centuries might have passed, but human relationships had barely changed, and her excuse to make a discovery might have been true at first, to slowly become a front, for others and for herself.

What troubled him was his own reaction when he finally acknowledged that those feelings could be sincere, once he had his powers back and his identity as a Jotun hybrid had been discovered. He felt confused, and so he decided he would recoil from any affection she might display towards him. He almost did it that night at the rooftop, when she kept holding his hand; but he gave in and let her lean on his shoulder instead. More than her encouraging words, it had been the time they had spent in silence what made him reconsider many of the things he had planned about Midgard and Jane.

Part of him cursed that woman from the temple, that Sorcerer Supreme, for her words and her questioning. He had always had a plan for every contingency he could think of. Now he was lost, and he didn’t know what to do. But another part, the sensible one, knew this possibility could exist, however small it might have been: that all his plans could end in nothing because, for him, other people’s hearts were still a mystery.

He was sure and had been extremely careful not to encourage her in that way, and he didn’t understand what was happening; every time he had procured himself a partner had been after a display of either wealth or power, or both. Wasn’t that what humans were after? Wasn’t that what most sentient creatures were after? Because, what was what they called affection if not a transaction? That was, at least, that was what he had learned through his life: It had to be earned and kept by means of your merits, which always were either a display of force, wealth or loyalty. And if one of those disappeared, it flew away. Or so it seemed to him.

Jane did prove him wrong on his assumptions about her right at that moment, exactly by confessing what she deemed as egoistical impulses. Ironically, that confession made this relationship one of the most sincere of all the ones he ever had with anyone.

That was what nearly made Loki laugh. He wondered how she could have survived for so long with that kind of conscience, and understood why Selvig was so protective of her. True, she was intelligent, she was brave and unyielding as the Shieldmaidens of the stories but, feeling guilty of only wanting something? It was like seeing a child confessing as the most heinous sin that he had wanted to spend the afternoon playing instead of doing his homework, right after finishing said homework.

Had it been the other way around, Loki was sure he would have done everything in his hand to keep the other at his side.

Nevertheless, he felt a growing uneasiness at her words, and he didn’t know why. It was like stepping into a dark room in an unknown place, which made a weight settle in his chest. Quite the opposite for Jane, seemingly; her tears had stopped once she had delivered her confession and now she offered an apologetic smile as she said:

“I just want you to be okay, no matter where or how. So I hope you all survive this in the end.”

He had been leaning against the doorframe of her room, and it had been a good thing. Those words felt like a blow, for it had been the first time someone had ever said that to him with complete sincerity.

That was what mystified him the most about her: that Jane wasn’t a stranger to using duplicity when it was appropriate, but she had always been candid with him. Perhaps not with herself, and that was the origin of her inner turmoil, but she was always forthright with those she held dear. It takes a trickster to know one, and he had always prided himself of being especially good when dealing with Midgardians.

It was that moment when he understood how she really saw him and where he stood in her regards. He also realized that those might be the last days he could spend with her, and fear began to take a hold of him.

How can you love something if you never harbor the fear of losing it?

It had been a rhetorical question for Thor, but now it kept echoing in his mind, and he remembered the early days of summer in London, when the possibility of knowing a mortal’s life at her side felt almost intriguing. Almost.

And against his better judgment, he embraced her. Far from resisting, Jane slid her arms around his waist and buried her face on his chest.

“It’s not egoism, to want to keep…” he paused very briefly, almost imperceptibly. “… those you care about near you. It’s in our nature, no matter where we were born.”

He had been about to say another word, one he had used many times in the past but, for some strange reason, now it carried a weight he wasn’t sure he could bear.

Then he kissed her hair, and silently cast a subtle spell which would help her have a full night’s rest, despite how near dawn was. Then he promised he would do everything in his hand to return to Midgard, a promise he had given far too many times, never to be honored. Not this time. He would return, if he still drew breath.

Chapter Text

The following day brought more repetitions of the same failed experiment. They would have needed at least ten cores like the one Stark wore inside his chest, but they couldn’t finish the first stage of the reaction without the metal exploding. It was Thor the one who asked Stark to stop: he had seen firsthand what had happened with an overheated core in a nuclear reactor and said he didn’t want to crawl his way out of a crater which would take half the continent.

In the afternoon even Tony was pondering the odds of a silent infiltration inside the Joint Dark Energy Mission complex, when JARVIS warned about a surge of gamma radiation in the premises of that complex. The readings were almost residual, but Stark had ordered JARVIS to warn him about possible upcoming surges, no matter how small the quantity was.

“Now what?” said Thor.

“Now we wait,” Stark answered. “I’m bad at that game too, big guy, but sometimes it pays to do it.”

“You are not one to give that advice, sir,” JARVIS retorted.

“Shut up, JARVIS, or I’ll turn you into a talking bathroom scales,” Tony said over his shoulder.

They agreed to wait, much to Thor’s chagrin. Not that Loki was against it, but that behavior seemed odd for someone like Stark. He decided to remain behind when all his companions went either to bed or patrolling the premises, and he and Tony were the only ones sitting at the house’s bar.

“This is not like you,” Loki commented as he sat on a stool.

“What, you know me that well?” Stark chuckled as he eyed his collection of whisky bottles. “Do you have spies like Fury?”

“No. It’s strange that a man who let me fly with an experimental suit so we could reach New Mexico, and seems to have something personal against Fury chooses to wait, of all things.”

Tony was giving his back to Loki still browsing the bottles. He took one and weighted it on his hand, reading the label. Seemingly satisfied with his choice, he opened a cabinet and took two tumblers, without saying a single word the entire time.

He’s stalling for time.

“What’s your story with Fury?” Loki asked directly, taking a sip of whiskey.

The man didn’t look at him directly, but the mere mention of the one-eyed spy made him scowl.

“I just want to prove a point,” he said after a while.

“It being?”

“Why are you so curious?”

“Because it involves us. I don’t like him either, but my reasons are evident. Yours, on the other hand, are not. Haven’t I earned the right to know that much? After all, we are supposed to be partners in our business.”

Stark looked him in the eye, probably assessing him. Then he smiled humorlessly.

“You know that kind of people who bear the end justifies the means as their personal motto?” he said. “That’s Fury. I get that sometimes you have to get down to your enemies’ level and kick them in the nuts, but this man takes it even further. I…” he paused, as if thinking what to say next. “I spent decades hating my father after he died, thinking that he despised me. I know, I know, childish!” he exclaimed, sweeping his hand over the counter in a dismissive gesture. “But it hurts to think that your own blood doesn’t want you,” he took a sip of whiskey and continued. “Thing is, that my father left a recording with the key to discover a new element, and the exact words that I had wanted to hear since I was a little kid. I know it was sincere because my father wasn’t planning to die in that car accident. That one-eyed bastard kept it stored for nineteen years. Nineteen! I spent half my life in a downwards spiral of nihilistic partying because I always thought I was worth nothing,” he tapped his glowing chest. “The element I was using before was slowly poisoning me and he suddenly appeared as a savior, offering me a cure! Bullshit! He did it because I was convenient to his plans. For all he cared I could have kept going down in a self-loathing train crash and he wouldn’t care. Oh but the funny thing is that later he announces he’s creating a group of protectors for Earth, of course, held on a tight leash by politicians.”

“Then why helping him?”

“I’m not helping. I just want to prove a point,” he paused for a moment. “Okay, I’m helping a bit, but not them. It’s not for them. I just use my natural charm to avoid some disasters because some so-and-so general is too trigger-happy for anyone’s well-being. I want to show them how idiotic they are acting and how poor their decision-making really is.”

“And so you act as consultant.”

“Yeah, he had the nerve to send an undercover agent to profile me.”

“What’s profiling?”

“Someone who knows about psychology talks to you and writes a report saying what kind of personality you have. He sent a cute redhead chick and invented a whole resume with her having being a model and knowing God knows how many languages.”

“And you hired her.”

“What was I supposed to do? She was brilliant!”

“Her being cute had nothing to do with it, of course.”

Stark sighed and took out his phone. After browsing through some pictures he held the screen in front of Loki, who chocked on his drink.

As he coughed, he heard Tony chuckling.

“Told you so!” he said.

“I’ve seen that woman before,” Loki rasped, feeling the whisky up his nose.

“What?”

When the cough finally subsided, Loki recounted his brief adventure when searching for a personal assistant. The employment agency sent him just one candidate: a redhead woman with an impressive resume and all the attitude of being the most efficient worker in her field.

“I sent her back,” Loki said. “Had she worn a tshirt reading Honey Trap it wouldn’t have been more evident. Then I called that agency and requested someone a tad less extraordinary.”

“And you settled for…?”

“A middle-aged mother of three growing kids. Competent enough, hard-working and very much in love with her husband, who is a good man and very efficient at his own job. And no contact with SHIELD.”

“You sent her back?” Tony asked in disbelief.

“I’m not here for that! Well, not just for that. My point is that I had more pressing matters than falling for the charms of someone who spelled trouble so manifestly.”

Tony raised his eyebrows.

“All right, all right,” Loki admitted. “I knew the trick because I’ve used it myself.”

“You dressed as a woman?” Tony exclaimed. “With a wig and everything?”

“NO! I made myself look like one,” and before Stark laughed harder, Loki made a gesture and transformed into Pepper Potts.

Tony’s face froze.

“See?” Loki said with Potts’ voice, amused at how the other man looked at him wide-eyed. “It’s not that difficult.”

He ended the spell at that moment, lest Stark might feel irate. But instead of that, the millionaire kept gazing at him, this time with a calculating look in his dark eyes.

“Say, ever pulled a heist? Nothing violent. Come in, come out and no one’s the wiser until much later.”

Loki smiled to himself, remembering how he acquired his wealth back in the Victorian times, and how he feigned solving some of the “cases”, so that he could receive the rewards. A century later, he discovered with delight that said little stint as an investigator, and his friendship with a certain physician with an inclination for writing novels, would create the stories that were considered milestones in the field of crime fiction. And, as the 20^th century advanced and humanity discovered other forms of entertainment, that character’s fame kept growing until it was part of the collective imagination.

He hadn’t been a strange to that phenomenon and, while he didn’t have the time back in the day to read the stories of his doctor friend, in the past three months he had spent more than a rainy afternoon enjoying a cup of tea and reading about the adventures of that detective and his partner. 20^th century media produced adaptations of those books which were sometimes a hit and miss, but he enjoyed the latest British Television adaptation and the added different twists, which were not bad for stories written by Midgardians.

It would be fair to say, that his appropriation of other people’s belongings also inspired real life criminals and would-be, turn-of-the-century Robin Hoods, who would in turn stir other writers’ imagination and create more fictional characters which would be also considered legends during the next century.

“I might have,” he simply said. “Why the change of opinion?”

“Because one thing is storming a fortress, like your brother and his friends would want to do, and another thing is using subtlety. As a last resource, would you be in?”

“Yes.”

Tony set his glass on the counter and clapped once, ordering JARVIS to project a small model of the Dark Energy complex in front of them. From there, and working with the guards’ schedule, both men could trace the outline of a plan.

A tremor made them brace against the bar, as the whiskey rippled inside the glasses. Before it ended, JARVIS was issuing and alert about an explosion at the Joint Dark Energy Mission. The sound of hurried footsteps echoed along the hallways and Darcy and Jane raced inside the living room, still in their pajamas. Thor and his friends quickly entered the house, but they didn’t have to ask what was happening, since there was a clear picture projected in the center of the room for everyone to see.

Jane and Darcy muffled a scream when the situation sank in.

“How many casualties?” Tony asked in an even voice, though his whole body had gone tense.

“No casualties so far, sir, as the facility seems to have been evacuated in time. Several life forms have fled the scene in two vehicles. A helicopter is pursuing them.”

After a brief pause, JARVIS continued with his report.

“Sir. There is an important amount of gamma radiation seeping through the debris.”

“Deploy my suit,” Stark ordered, a slight tone of panic in his voice. “That’s our cue!”

“We are going too!” the Warriors Three and Sif all said, wielding their weapons.

“No,” Thor ordered. “You stay here and guard the house. We don’t know if SHIELD will come for the girls.”

“They have no reason to come after us,” Jane protested.

“Yes, but we don’t have enough room for everyone,” Stark, who had already suited up, reasoned. “Besides, we don’t know what might happen here or there.”

“Lend me the spare suit,” Loki said as he and Thor accompanied Stark outside the house.

“Sorry, but I sent it back home,” Stark said. “Besides, you might go nuts again if you use your magic and I’m not in the mood to repair my armor a second time.”

“I can carry you,” Thor said before Loki could reply. “I forgot to tell you: I have been practicing my landing. I won’t harm you this time.”

Loki pursed his lips. As if the idea of clinging to Thor for dear life wasn’t embarrassing enough, there was also the risk of falling face-first to the ground.

The very first time Thor discovered that Mjolnir allowed him to fly, he tried persuading Loki to accompany him. Of course, Loki had refused and, of course, Thor couldn’t take a “no” as an answer, so the young warrior got a hold on his little brother’s shoulders and launched Mjolnir. The next thing Loki remembered was lying on his bed, with his head bandaged, his nose broken and all his front teeth missing. It took a month and a half of healing stones, Frigga’s magic, pureed meals and great amounts of patience and pain to fix the damage, time during which he confined himself to his room, refusing to see anyone who wasn’t his mother.

His only consolation had been that Thor voluntarily changed his normal meals for the gruel Loki ate during his convalescence. It was no small sacrifice coming from a young man who loved eating as much as fighting, but Loki never allowed Thor to carry him ever again. If only he had kept Freyja’s feather cape and said it got lost instead of returning it!

“Practicing?” he echoed.

“Aye, Sif helped me.”

“You asked her to?” Loki didn’t mask his horror at the thought of what would have happened to her.

“It wasn’t necessary,” Thor beamed. “She offered me her aid. You know how kind-hearted she is, but she’s also a stern teacher. It has taken me whole years to perfection it, and even then I have to keep practicing from time to time with her. Only I had to tell her that you would never embrace me as tightly as she does.”

“Or in any way!” Loki exclaimed, straightening his back with dignity. He didn’t know whether to shudder at the image Thor’s words conjured in his mind, or roll his eyes at his brother’s obliviousness. But he didn’t have the chance to do either, for Stark had already taken off and Thor didn’t want to lose track of the “Metal Man”, as he called the millionaire.

“Come on, brother! No time to waste!” said Thor as he grabbed Loki unceremoniously by his waist and launched Mjolnir.

Chapter Text

It had been fortunate that Thor had been such a diligent student under Sif’s tutelage, but Loki would have preferred traveling alone. At least Stark’s suit protected the wearer from the wind cutting the skin like a knife.

But Loki’s concern about his brother’s landing disappeared as soon as they saw a crashed helicopter, and Stark carrying an unconscious pilot to take him away from the flames. Fury supported a battered Agent Hill, who bled from a wound on her leg, and the two limped away from the burning vehicle.

“It’s gonna explode!” Fury yelled as Thor and Loki landed near them. “Get away.”

But Thor had already taken Agent Hill in his arms and ran away as fast as they could. Loki conjured a magic shield instants before the helicopter exploded to cover the humans. The agents were still recovering while Stark called for medical attention, after making sure the pilot was still alive; then he confronted Fury.

“Very well, Director,” he said. “You had the Tesseract all along and were experimenting with it. What happened?”

“That’s none of your business,” Fury answered, but something in his voice struck an odd note on Loki. “SHIELD will take care of it.”

“And they have done a wonderful job so far,” said Stark. “Why aren’t you a good host and return that thing to their owners?”

Fury pursed his lips and said nothing.

“They took it from you, isn’t it?” Loki asked.

Still SHIELD’s Director said nothing.

“So much for protecting our world,” Stark remarked. “As soon as no one was watching, you start tinkering with the supernatural. The Tesseract would have been your power source for that shield, right?”

“We had no other choice.”

“You knew the risks,” Loki said. “And yet you put your entire planet in danger. You know the Tesseract can open a portal to who knows where. Anything could have slipped through.”

Fury’s gaze was as cold and detached as Odin’s, that much Loki realized at the moment, and understood why he hated this man he barely knew.

“The assailants ran away. North East,” Fury confessed. “They have the Tesseract and several of my best men with them.”

Loki didn’t have to see Stark’s face to know he was scowling under his metal mask. As soon as Fury gave them the direction, Iron Man took off, leaving them alone.

“What got through?” Loki kept asking. He had a gut feeling that he didn’t like.

An anchor for something ancient and terrible.

“Brother,” Thor, still supporting Hill, urged him. “We need to make haste and follow Stark.”

“It’s no use plunging into danger without first knowing what we will find,” said Loki, still holding Fury’s gaze. “Well?”

“Nothing we can’t handle for ourselves, but feel free to get your asses blown up.”

Loki took a step towards Fury. There was a fumbling noise and a grunt: Agent Hill had drawn her gun, forcing Thor to twist her hand so she would drop it.

“Your guns won’t harm us,” Loki said, slowly advancing towards the Director. “No more than a wooden sword would. I’m not used to repeat myself. You awoke the Tesseract and something slipped through. What was it?”

“What are you going to do?” Fury sneered. “Kill us?”

Hill tried wrestling her way out of Thor’s grasp, but it was as good as if she had tried breaking an iron chain with her bare hands.

“No,” Loki said, his lips parting in a wide grin. “Oh, no. You won’t die, and if whatever has come through that portal is what I think it is, I will see that you live long enough to witness your precious Earth burning. I swear the screams of the innocent will echo in your ears so strongly, I’ll have you begging for me to end your wretched existence.”

“Brother, what are you talking about?”

“Remember the stories about the horrors that live in the outskirts of the Universe? About the creatures whose mere existence defies every natural law?” Loki asked Thor still without tearing his eyes from Fury, who seemed unfazed. “The Tesseract has enough power to reach those places.”

Thor cursed under his breath.

“The guys who slipped through didn’t look like cosmic horrors to me, though it was hard to tell with the robes and the masks,” Fury commented. “No one died of madness when looking at them, that or I might have been reading too much Lovecraft. The leader turned one of my most intelligent men into his flying monkey, though.”

“Flying monkey?” asked Thor. “Is that some sort of personal slave?”

“Something like that,” Loki explained. Most of his tension had gone away with Fury’s words. Astray scouts from possible invaders was an acceptable option. “How many people did the intruders take?”

“Six agents and Dr. Selvig,” Fury said. “One of those agents is the best sharpshooter on Earth.”

“Stark is in danger, then!” Thor exclaimed, leaving Hill carefully on the ground; and without another word he took Loki again and launched Mjolnir in the direction Stark had flown away, leaving the other humans behind.

It didn’t take long to find the fugitives. The flashes of light from Iron Man’s weapons and the invaders’ lasers marked the way for them. They landed at some distance, flanking the fugitives from their right.

The first thing they saw was that they were using an overturned pick-up as a parapet. Luckily for the brothers, said vehicle’s lights were pointing to the other side, so they still had the cover of darkness. Another vehicle, a sedan, had been parked nearby and two humans used it as protection while they fired at Stark. Three more agents had dispersed from the overturned truck and tried taking aim at Iron Man, but he was too quick for them and his armor too hard for their bullets. There were five invaders, and they used lasers, thought their leader wielded a scepter tipped with a blue stone. Huddled by said leader, Loki saw a human figure hugging a metal briefcase.

They snuck behind a rock and briefly traced a plan of attack. It wasn’t the first time they saw this situation and the only added difficulty was not killing the humans.

But as soon as they were about to launch their attack, Loki heard Thor grunting. When he looked at his brother, he saw that he was rubbing his forehead where a red spot had appeared, and a strange looking arrow fell to the ground.

The sixth agent.

Loki had to conjure another magic shield as the sharpshooter took aim at them. Thor skin was hardy, but if the shooter hit him in an eye they would be in trouble. Soon he would alert the rest of agents and the surprise factor would disappear.

Before that happened, Loki hastily whispered to Thor a code word for one of their tactics, and his brother waited behind him.

Then Loki dropped the shield while the sharpshooter drew his bow again and conjured several copies of himself and his brother that started running around and towards him.

Thankfully the use of magic wasn’t that common in that world, but that agent lived to his fame, for his reaction span was far shorter than Loki expected. Nevertheless, Thor and several of his copies jumped in the air while Loki ran among the copies to catch him unprotected. The man shot the real Thor point blank, but the Asgardian covered his face with his vambraces before landing with a loud thud at the human’s side. Loki raised his hand and casted a simple telekinetic trick to stop the man’s hand from reaching the knife at his belt, but he had to drop the other spell. He noticed how the man’s eyes glowed with an unnatural blue light, and his expression was vacant.

“Softly,” Loki said to his brother and he slowly approached.

Thor slapped the agent, who fell unconscious on the desert rocky soil.

“Think he will survive?” Thor asked.

“I guess. Humans are very delicate. He was brainwashed, like the rest of them, I suppose.”

“Stark seems to be handling it,” Thor commented as he looked at the battlefield.

Tony had felled most of the aliens, which lain in burnt heaps around the vehicle, but their leader had taken the agents around them and intended to use them as living shields as he deflected Stark’s small missiles with his scepter’s blasts.

“What if you used the same trick as with the Jotun?” Thor asked. “I’ll help Stark distract the enemy. The scepter has a cooling down period. Short, but we might be able to use it.”

Loki nodded and conjured a dense mist which rolled from under his feet until it flooded the entire battlefield. The fog blinded the humans, though the alien leader seemed immune to it, for he could still aim at Stark and Thor; the latter ran away from Loki and yelled at the enemy to attract the alien’s attention.

The fog he created wasn’t an illusion, but actual mist taken out from what little humidity existed in the air. It had taken him far more energy than he expected, but at least he wouldn’t need to hold his concentration to keep the spell up. That allowed him to cast another incantation should he needed, though his energy levels were rapidly depleting: He wasn’t yet at his full power.

He slowly crept his way towards the humans. They all exhibited the same traits as the sharpshooter: blue unnatural eyes and vacant faces. One of them was some steps away from the rest, and Loki touched her arm. The sleep spell didn’t work, and he had to backhand her to render the agent unconscious, lest she gave his position away. He carefully lay her on the rocky ground to avoid the noise of her body falling and, putting a hand over her brow, he sensed vestiges of a powerful magic that he doubted he could have overridden even with all his powers recovered.

The invader must have worn some special device to see in the mist, because the moment Loki reached for the fourth agent, he suddenly turned around and fired at them.

The blast of energy was so sudden Loki had no time to cast a barrier. It bruised the agent in one arm, and hit Loki on his right shoulder. Both fell to the ground, screaming and holding their injuries and, as if woken up by their companion’s voice, the other two agents suddenly started calling for the wounded agent, as if the enchantment had been broken.

The alien swung the scepter, hitting the two agents and knocking them out; then he aimed for a second blast towards Loki, and a strong, howling wind rose from the enemy’s left, dispersing the mist. The invader only had time to look where that howl came from, before seeing Mjolnir coming towards him, with Thor wielding it.

The hammer sunk on the alien’s chest, launching him against the overturned car and embedding his body in the car’s structure.

The pain burnt Loki’s right side. Waves of nausea hit him as his sight became blurred. He clenched his teeth and tried stilling his breathing. Trying to sit upright, he saw the alien, finally dead, and an enraged Erik throwing himself at Thor, who had arrived to help Loki. The prince of Asgard hit him in the same manner as the agents, and the scientist fell to his feet.

Loki cursed aloud as Thor helped him to his feet.

“You didn’t hurt him too much, right?” he grunted. “He’s like a father to Jane.”

Thor stammered something, but he was soon interrupted by Stark, who had grabbed the metal suitcase and urged them to fly away.

“Wait,” Loki said, looking around them. He could finally see the aliens and, while some matched the description Thor had given them, others were eerily familiar.

He staggered towards the dead leader, and it was then when Thor seemed to actually notice the difference: While Mjolnir had caved in the armor and the creature’s chest, it was clear that the front piece had been of an ivory color, like the shoulder pads, the vambraces and the cuisses, while the rest was of a deep black color. White hair, stained with blood and shoot, gathered in thick braids, cascading past the shoulders; it was the only visible feature from the head, for the face was covered by a white mask, carved in an expressionless visage, with perfectly round eyes of an unnatural size, no doubt furbished with special lens to see in difficult atmospheres.

“Who are these people?” Thor asked.

“No time for that, let’s go!” Tony urged.

“We have to know!”

But the millionaire ordered JARVIS to scan all the corpses and prepare the data for a forensic analysis. Suddenly several rays of blue light emerged from his suit, scanning the bodies in a few seconds.

“Good enough?” he asked impatiently. “We have to treat that wound, and I wouldn’t want to be here when Fury arrives.”

Loki saw the scepter at the alien’s feet and reached to grab it, but a jolt of pain shook him so violently Thor had to grab him by the shoulders.

They took off and, through the howling wind and his ringing ears, Loki heard helicopters approaching.

Chapter Text

A faint glowing dome surrounded the ranch when they arrived: a protective barrier JARVIS had erected when they departed. Upon approaching, the barrier parted and closed as soon as they crossed the perimeter.

They stored the Tesseract in a safe and debated what to do next while Thor tended to Loki’s wound.

“Their leader,” Loki winced as Thor disinfected the wound. “He wore a Dark Elf armor.”

Thor’s hands stopped mid-movement. All the Asgardian eyes were on him, mostly puzzled, but Volstagg was the most alarmed.

“That’s impossible,” he asserted. “The Allfather’s father killed them all!”

“I remember the stories from before we were born,” said Loki, then winced again and hissed at Thor. “Damn it, why does it hurt so much?”

“Because you should have half your body blown up,” Tony replied, examining the holographic scans of the scepter. “This baby packs quite a punch.”

“And we left it there,” Loki sighed, passing his left hand over his face.

“Don’t worry,” said the millionaire. “While it’s with SHIELD it should be good, or at least not as bad. As long as if doesn’t fall in the wrong hands, that’s it. Oh, hey, the leader had a different biology than the others!”

He enlarged the hologram. The scan had formed an image of the body inside the armor, and they could see the invader’s face.

“Give it color, JARVIS.”

The invader’s skin was pale, almost the same shade of his hair, which he wore combed backwards and neatly arranged in braids along the head. His facial features, set forever in a peaceful expression, were delicate and pleasantly proportioned. The shape of his closed eyelids hinted at two big, almond eyes, framed by high, sharp cheekbones. His nose was slightly aquiline and his lips were full and finely shaped.

Had the invader decided to infiltrate midgardian society he would have been considered a somewhat strange, yet very attractive human being. Only the shape of his pointy ears might have given him away.

“Svartálfar,” Volstagg said weakly.

The humans looked at each other, silently wondering why the Asgardians had become so pale.

“But King Bor was supposed to have killed them all,” said Hogun.

“Seems like he left some of them,” Tony commented. “Geez, Thor, that hammer of yours can be real nasty.”

Now the projection, devoid of color, showed the crushed ribcage and the broken spine.

“I didn’t use lightning because I didn’t want to hit the other humans,” Thor said to Loki, in an almost apologetic tone.

“What do you make of this all?” Tony asked them, expanding all the holograms so they occupied the entire living room.

There was a long silence, during which only the sound of Thor breaking the bandages’ seal could be heard.

Darcy was the first to break it.

“So, do all these guys get along?” she asked, still gazing at the holograms. “I mean, not only the elves and these weird cyborg guys, but also the Frost Giants came here. Are they working together?”

“No,” said Fandral, who always sat at her side. “The Jötunn and the Svartálfar considered all the other races inferior. The Jötunn expected to exterminate or enslave other planets, the Dark Elves… didn’t they try to destroy the Universe?”

“Return it to its primordial state,” Thor corrected. As he was tending to his younger brother, he sat giving his back to most of his allies and friends, and only Loki could see how his expression had clouded as he spoke with a hoarse voice. “They came from the Ginnungagap, the Yawning Abyss that was before. Once the Universe was born, they resented all the races which came with it, but most of all they hated the Asgardians, who challenged with their light their former supreme reign, and so they went to war. After a long time my grandfather made them retreat to Svartalfheim, where he defeated them.”

He secured the bandages and got up abruptly. Loki had noticed his brother’s hands trembling slightly.

“I could understand if there was a race from outside the Nine Realms who somehow allied themselves with the Jötunn,” Sif mused. “But both Svartálfar and Frost Giants? They would be more than happy to destroy each other.”

“I couldn’t subdue the agents through magic,” said Loki. “Because they were already under a very powerful mind-controlling spell.”

“Even Erik?” Jane asked.

“Him especially. Understand that if he was the head scientist at whatever project they were developing, he would be the first one to be controlled. After all, the agents were protecting both the elf and Erik.

“However,” Loki continued when he saw Jane’s face. “When the alien fired and hit one of the agents, the spell broke for him and his companions. Maybe when Erik wakes up the spell will break too.”

Dawn broke as they were discussing what to do, bathing the living room in golden light. They still needed to smuggle components under SHIELD’s nose, and now the news of the invaders added more urgency to their mission.

Right in the middle of the discussion, JARVIS informed them of an incoming transmission from Director Fury.

“Talk about the devil…” Stark grumbled as he took a cup of coffee in his hands. “Okay, let’s answer it.”

“Director! What a surprise!” he exclaimed as a holographic screen with Fury’s face hovered in front of him. “How do you do in this fine morning?”

But the Director didn’t seem in the mood for small talk.

“Stark,” Fury didn’t seem to appreciate the other’s festive mood. “You know why I’m calling you.”

“Aw, no need to thank me,” Stark continued, sipping his coffee. “You know, since I turned into a philanthropist I find myself saving the world more often than I thought.”

“Where’s the Tesseract?”

“In a safe place,” Thor growled, stepping behind Tony.

“Might I remind you that…?”

“That it’s an Asgardian relic and that we are its rightful owners,” Thor interrupted him. “That you were misusing it and endangering your own planet and that it’s for your best interest that we remove it from your custody.”

The Director’s face was inscrutable, and the silence between the two warriors lasted several beats, until Fury’s visage relaxed ever so slightly.

“I thought you might say that,” he said. “I tried to warn my superiors but they never listen.”

Thor tensed at those words and everyone in the room feared for the worst.

“So,” Fury continued. “Since they don’t seem to understand that stepping on the toes of mythical creatures is always a bad move, I’ve decided to turn a blind eye on this matter. Do I have your word that, by helping you return to your home I will never see your faces ever again?”

“As long as Midgard doesn’t need our help, you have my word.”

“Tell me what you need and SHIELD will provide it.”

“What?” Stark exclaimed. “No chewing anyone’s head off? No sending any agents to my house? Did that alien use his scepter on you too? And, what’s with the pun? Thought you didn’t like your eye being mentioned.”

“Despite what you might think of me,” the Director continued. “I don’t have my head stuck up my ass like the bureaucrats and politicians who lord over me. When the Tesseract fell in our hands we saw an infinite source of energy, that’s true, but we weren’t prepared for what it also implied. It has become a problem rather than a solution. Besides,” he turned to Thor and Loki. “Starting a war with another world is the last thing I would like to do.”

“Are you sure?” Tony insisted. “You will provide anything? Even if I could get it myself?”

Fury sighed, glaring at him.

“The portal we were developing has been lost, but we still have a prototype that we will ship to your ranch, along with several agents I will assign as your security. With all due respect, I wish these visitors out of my planet as soon as possible.”

Without further ado, Director Fury cut the transmission, and the ranch inhabitants went about to prepare their breakfast or, rather, to choose which breakfast they wanted the automated kitchen to prepare.

“We’re lucky this guy is on our side now, right?” said Darcy as she served herself a mug of coffee.

“There’s no such thing as luck,” Tony smiled wryly as he drank from his own. “He’s a clever bastard.”

“He probably wants us to build the Bridge for him,” said Loki, carefully accommodating his right arm on a sling. “Knowing that after we use it the Tesseract will have to remain here while we are on our merry way home.”

Thor, who hadn’t touched yet the scrambled eggs before him, frowned.

“Can’t we take it with us?” he asked.

“Not if it’s powering the reactor,” said Loki.

“We have fallen in his trap,” Sif stated, taking her hand from around her mug and clenching her fist.

“We are victims of the circumstances,” Loki tried to calm her. “We have no other choice but to comply and accept whatever comes our way for now. After we free Asgard, however, we will return. In peace.”

Tony chuckled, finding real humor in that line.

“Bring some soldiers with you, just in case,” he said. “Besides, didn’t your brother just promise you wouldn’t come back?”

“He wasn’t speaking as Asgard’s Prince Regent,” Loki said, smiling softly. “Not even as an emissary, and he wasn’t referring to us as a group, but as royalty sometimes talks about themselves in the third person. Neither I nor our friends said a word,” he said, sweeping his hand around to point at Sif and the others. “And if Midgard is how I think it is, you will have a conflict over the Tesseract, thus needing the true owner to come and retrieve it. No promise will ever be broken.”

Tony downed a gulp of coffee, before walking back to the hangar, muttering he was glad he was on the aliens’ side.

Loki saw little of Thor that day, but the expression of his older brother’s face was something he couldn’t forget. Even so, he pushed those thoughts away and concentrated on the task at hand. His right shoulder hurt less and less as hours went by, but his regeneration was far slower than normal. Whatever that scepter was, he rued having to leave it behind.

Jane, Darcy, Stark and Loki spent the day at the warehouse, reviewing at first the material they would need and sending the list to SHIELD; then they kept reviewing the blueprints and planning how to organize the construction. If things went well they could complete it in a matter of hours once they had all they needed.

Jane, as was usual with her, used the energy she had regained the previous night to plunge head first in the project, talking little to nothing to the others, save if it was about the task at hand. Nevertheless, she broke that custom several times to ask Loki how he was going and if he was all right.

That night, before turning in, she thanked him for the sleeping spell of the previous night.

“I heard you murmuring something in another language,” she smiled. “I felt sleepy afterwards, and that was strange because I had drunk a triple espresso half an hour before. It was you, right?”

“You were about to drop dead.”

She chuckled, blushing slightly, and he felt a shiver down his spine. Then she wished him goodnight and went to her room.

Loki remained in the living room, alone with his thoughts while he went over the reactor’s blueprints. His shoulder still hurt if he tried moving it. Maybe the following morning he could try going around without the sling.

Eventually, he started dozing off. At some point during the night he became aware of a rhythmical, metallic thumping sound coming from outside. JARVIS hadn’t alerted the household, which was a relief, but it also increased Loki’s curiosity.

He snuck out of the house and walked as silently as he could towards the back of the warehouse, where the sound came from. There he stood, half-hidden, observing.

Thor had taken one of the spare girders and, sinking it on the ground, was using it as a training dummy. The sound Loki kept hearing was no other than the punches and kicks the prince of Asgard landed relentlessly on the metal, each blow with increasing anger until, with a final roar, Thor hit the already dented girder with both hands, splitting it in two. But not even that seemed to calm him down, for he remained there, staring with labored breath into the void, until he turned his face skywards and let out a cry, and this time Loki knew there was something else mingled with his anger. Thor then fell to his knees in silence, an image of utter despair that Loki had never seen before.

He was about to turn around and walk back to the house, but something inside him drove him to step towards Thor instead.

“Need someone to spar with?” he asked casually as he stepped into the moonlight. It was then when he saw that Thor had broken all the girders and metal planks he could find.

“Let me be,” the prince of Asgard muttered with a quavering voice. “I am to blame for everything.”

He was taken aback by his reaction, having expected him to joke about his wounded arm.

“Listen,” Loki began. “The war with Jotunheim-”

“No! You don’t understand!” Thor exclaimed as he stood up to face him. “Asgard’s defenses failed because of me!”

“But that’s impossible, the Odinforce…” Loki’s voice trailed away as he realized what Thor meant.

The Odinforce was the magic force every regent of Asgard had to master and sustain with their own life-force. That energy fed the automated defenses and was also channeled through Gungnir. Should the regent be too weak or absent for too long without a substitute, said power would run out, rendering most systems useless. To be able to master the Odinforce, every Crown Prince had to undergo a very strict training, akin to the magic education Loki had received.

“I didn’t train at all,” Thor admitted with a hoarse voice and clenched fists. “I thought it was just nonsense. Father had been too weak to feed the defenses before falling into the Odinsleep, and I wasn’t able to wield Gungnir when it was handed over to me. It’s because of me that they could breach our barriers and invade us. It’s because of me that Mother and Father… all our people…” his voice trembled slightly, but he kept talking. “Mother is standing alone against them while we are trapped here, and maybe she has been-”

“You know Mother is strong enough,” Loki cut him. He couldn’t stand hearing those next words. “And she has her own kin to help her. Together they have enough power to defend Asgard.”

But those words didn’t seem to comfort Thor. His older brother looked at him with an expression Loki had never seen.

“Father told us the Dark Elves had been exterminated,” he said.

“Maybe some survived, got stronger during these thousand years and they are trying to come back,” Loki offered. “Maybe they are no longer such a threat, not like in the past, and this has been a stroke of luck for them.”

Thor nodded, his eyes lost in the distance.

“I hope you are right,” he murmured. “And we can learn something about this strange alliance.”

Loki tried convincing him into returning to the house, but Thor sat down cross-legged on the ground instead. Seeing that his brother wouldn’t move, he followed suit and sat down by his side.

“Do you know why Father fell into the Odinsleep?” Thor asked in him a hoarse voice.

The younger brother didn’t answer.

“We had several quarrels while you were away,” he continued. With each sentence his voice regained strength, but kept slightly trembling with fury. “I asked him when your punishment would be lifted, or if there was any condition to it. He never answered at first. Then he would simply say: Everything is taken care of, as if that meant something. But in the meantime, any travel to Midgard was forbidden.

“One day I was at the library, and saw the scribes at work in the family’s section. I asked them what they were doing but no one would look at me. I could take a peek at what they were writing and…

He stopped, swallowed hard and continued speaking, his voice a monotonous rumble.

“They were rewriting the family chronicle, omitting your name or any mention of you. One of them was changing the family portraits, painting an empty space where you were supposed to be. I gather that was the start, and that the frescoes at the palace would be next.”

For a second, Loki felt as if the whole wasteland swam and spun around him. A cold feeling started spreading through his chest as his brother talked.

“I confronted him,” Thor kept recounting, his deadpan expression broke in a grimace of pain. “I asked him why he was doing it, and he said it was for the good of Asgard. I was… I was angry at him. It had been just a prank, and I had been the one to head into Jotunheim.”

Thor took a small rock and ground it between his thick fingers, letting the dust escape through them.

“We argued. No. We fought. I didn’t understand how he could dispose of a son so easily. He just laughed, and told me that I had much to learn, that safeguarding the Nine Realms required many sacrifices.

“I screamed at him. Can’t remember what I said, but he finally shut up. I asked him if he would dispose of me too if I so much displeased him. He didn’t laugh that time, just stared at me, and then I…” he passed a hand over his face. “I told him I didn’t want anything to do with ruling Asgard, if that meant casting aside my own kin, that I would go to Midgard to take you back, and that he couldn’t stop me.”

He chuckled again.

“He told me that I was a fool for risking it all for someone who wasn’t my own blood, but I needed to be taught a lesson, and if I wanted so much to share your fate, so be it. And when he tried to seal my powers, he fainted and fell into the Odinsleep.”

Loki had no words. He felt sick at the stomach and had to start taking deep breaths to calm his racing heart.

“While he slept I asked Mother about his words, I told her about what the scribes were doing, and you know how she always takes Father’s side, saying that there’s a reason why he does what he does,” he shook his head, grimacing. “She still did it. She defended him, only this time there were tears in her eyes. When she was watching over Father’s sleep, thinking herself alone, I heard her weeping, and saying ‘Why did you do it?’ Over and over,” he fell silent for a while, as if the memory of their mother crying was the most painful of them.

“The attacks happened not too long after that. I tried wielding Gungnir, but it rejected me. I thought it was just a series of skirmishes and so I came here to fetch you, but the full scale attack happened while I was away and we are now trapped here.”

Thor lowered his head and said no more.

A coyote howled in the distance.

Loki fought the lump in his throat and, when he spoke, his voice trembled.

“That’s why you weren’t that surprised when you saw I was a Jötunn.”

“Mother told me the whole truth when she warned me about your magic powers,” Thor confessed. “She begged me to not let anyone else see you.”

Jane said Thor had covered Loki with his cape and didn’t allow anyone to approach him, not even his dearest friends.

“Wouldn’t you trust your friends with this?”

“No.”

The answer came right away, without even thinking about it.

“They will understand,” Thor clarified. “In time, maybe, but not now. I can’t bear the thought of them turning on you. We have been poisoned for far too long,” he said, shaking his head.

“It’s not like you to be so downtrodden,” Loki pointed out.

If there was anyone who could be optimistic, sometimes to ridiculous levels, that was Thor. That optimism always got to Loki’s nerves, but now that it was gone he felt an increasing unease.

“Too many things happening at one,” Thor raised his head, smiling wryly. “You know? When we were kids I sworn Mother I would protect you.”

“When was that?”

“Right before you transformed into a snake to lure me into grabbing you and then stabbing me. I wasn’t so sure about that oath afterwards.”

Loki smiled, despite himself. That had been a good prank.

“I had been blinded by Father’s tales of war and glory,” Thor continued. “But I don’t know if those tales hold any truth anymore. I don’t know if the Father we knew existed at all, but I know that wielding Mjolnir is not enough to be king.”

Out of the blue, Loki remembered that time Thor’s hammer was stolen.

Thor had embarked once on the rescue of a Midgardian farmer’s young daughter who had been allegedly abducted by Giants. Loki had been dragged along against his will on that search, which would cover three whole Realms. Once the lady had been found, it turned out that she was living only two countries further away from her father’s home, on a cottage in the middle of a forest and miles away from nowhere, and that she hadn’t been abducted by any Giant, but she had ran away from her father’s home to avoid an unwanted marriage, as the girl tearfully explained to them.

To add insult to injury, Loki had to endure that the lass only admitted Thor in her home while he, hungry, cold and with sore feet, had to wait outside. It wasn’t until he saw a dark shadow sneaking out of the cottage in the middle of the night that he understood what had happened: Thor had been bewitched and robbed of his hammer. It had been a trap all along.

But Loki had left the thief go, careful that he wasn’t seen either. At that point he didn’t have a sliver of compassion for Thor and he only wished to enter the cottage and curl in front of the dying hearth, well away from the sprawled form of his brother on one of the corners. But his sleep wasn’t a long one, for Thor shook him violently to wake him up well before the dawn broke. The following events fully compensated the hardships Loki had to go through on that adventure.

Loki chuckled, earning a dirty stare from Thor.

“I just remembered,” he said. “That time Thrym stole your hammer.”

It took some seconds for his brother to remember it, but then he also laughed, though it was a short, almost forced sound.

“You never said anything of how he managed to do so,” Thor said.

“You had enough teasing afterwards, before and after the wedding. White suited you.”

Thor laughed again, this time more earnestly.

“At least we got to dine for free, and the fight after the banquet was fun.”

The sky grew light towards the east. The coyote howled again, and another answered towards the north. Nothing could be heard in that expanse except for the wind and the wild animals inhabiting it. No wonder Stark had chosen that location.

“I’m glad you were safe here,” Thor said after a while. “Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if I had been the one to be sent here.”

“Far less headaches for me, I am sure,” Loki thought.

“You would have probably tried solving everything through brute force,” he said aloud. “And would have ended up being hunted down by SHIELD.”

“You think so?” Thor chuckled.

“Getting into problems is your main quality; getting you out of them is mine.”

“I would have been the one to meet Jane,” Thor mused, scratching his beard.

“She wouldn’t have liked you,” Loki asserted without even having to think about it.

“You sure?” Thor smiled.

“More than sure,” the younger brother nodded. “I know her. I’m sure she would never feel any sort of attraction towards someone like you.”

The two brothers kept taunting each other, but it wasn’t the same as before. Loki felt Thor’s tongue had lost what little edge it had, and he didn’t feel like saying anything truly hurtful, or lash at him for his lack of preparation.

If anything, this crisis seemed to have changed something between them. For better or for worse, time would tell.

Chapter Text

The materials and the portal structure arrived the next morning, along with soldiers and an agent Fury had assigned for them. Said agent had just returned from Russia, where she had finished an important mission the previous afternoon, though her identity was still a mystery until a small aircraft landed near the ranch. Then a petite, red-headed woman got off the plane along with the other SHIELD staff, which quickly got busy unloading the cargo.

The woman walked straight towards Tony, Loki and Thor, who were waiting for her; she was dressed in the black uniform of the field agents and carried with her a metal case which should have unbalanced her, but she transported it with perfect ease.

“Agent Romanoff,” Stark said with mock courtesy. “I thought you grew bored of meddling in my affairs.”

“Fury sent me to deliver Dr. Foster this and give her some instructions,” she said, lifting the suitcase. Her voice was deep and melodious. “After my last mission, these will be some well-deserved vacations as, for once, my current mission has nothing to do with you,” far from feeling offended by Stark’s cold welcome, her green eyes twinkled with mischievous delight for a moment, before ignoring the man as a queen would disregard a servant, to address the God of Thunder. “Thor Odinson, I presume. Agent Natasha Romanoff at your service.”

“Thank you for your help, Agent,” Thor said with a polite smile.

“Where’s Dr. Foster?” she asked, seemingly ignoring Loki on purpose.

“She’s at the warehouse,” Loki answered, forcing her to address him. “I’ll take you to her.”

Romanoff smiled tersely, but didn’t protest and followed him.

“What’s with the change of careers?” Loki teased her as soon as they were out of hearing range. “Secretary work doesn’t yield as much money as you expected, Miss Robinson?”

“Showing off must be a trait of every Asgardian, for what I’ve heard,” she snorted. “I suppose we misjudged you, Mr. Norwood.”

“I have to admit that your resume was impressive, but you never mentioned being an expert at profiling.”

“I hope you don’t hold any grudge towards us, we were just curious.”

“We?”

“I’ll be frank: it’s not every day that someone comes out of anonymity to claim such a sum of money and doesn’t act like a jackass afterwards. You raised some flags for us, and wanted to be sure of your allegiances.”

“I had other things in mind.”

“I see,” she simply stated as they reached the warehouse where Jane was waiting for them. Loki threw a sidelong glance towards Romanoff, and saw the hint of a playful smile on her face that almost made him roll his eyes.

“Dr. Foster,” Romanoff shook Jane’s hand as soon as they reached the threshold. It was, in fact, the first time she had such courtesy since she arrived. “Agent Natasha Romanoff. I’m here to assist you on your work.”

“What’s that?” Jane asked, looking at the suitcase.

“Iridium. Doctor Selvig informed us it was necessary to make a stable portal and prevent any further misbehavior from the Cube.”

The two women got into the building; Jane wanted Loki to join them and Darcy, but he excused himself, reasoning that Jane would want some time to study the data, and he had urgent matters to attend to.

Namely, the future of his fortune on this planet. Something he had completely forgotten, despite having talked with Stark about it numerous times.

xxxxXX-0-Xxxxxx

Later that day, more ships landed at the ranch’s premises. This time it was Selvig who arrived in one of them, to Jane and Darcy’s delight. The mind-controlling spell had been broken the moment he had been rendered unconscious, and he woke up at SHIELD’s hospital disoriented, but with his mind intact.

His spirits, however, had become troubled. The ordeal felt like a waking nightmare, and seeing himself in the middle of a battlefield, mind-controlled or not, had left a scar.

Even more agents and soldiers arrived with the doctor, until they had a full company setting up camp near the warehouse and establishing a whole perimeter. Stark wasn’t happy about it, but he allowed it nonetheless.

Erik had never entirely trusted the man he knew as Robert Norwood, nor he believed Jane’s theories about him coming through the Einstein-Rosen Bridge. He firmly believed that the “shadow” her equipment caught was an imperfection on the lenses. He humored the girl not voicing his real concerns since that man moved to England, but he never ceased to keep an eye on her.

During the last month, however, his word had been turned upside down, and not for the last time.

Agents of SHIELD had paid him a visit at his home one afternoon. His panic subsided somewhat when they revealed that they wanted him to work for a joint project with the NASA, to study Dark Energy and its possible applications to worldwide energy grids and defense. Their arguments were pretty convincing, and they could override his lingering resistance with the allure of a field yet to be discovered.

As soon as he started working with SHIELD, it was revealed to him that, as Jane claimed, Earth wasn’t the only inhabited planet in the Universe, that the Cosmic Cube was an alien creation, and that the world they lived in could be in serious peril should an alien civilization decided to conquer Humanity. That alone made him rethink his opinion of Norwood and, the more he investigated the origins of the Cube and where it was taken from during WW2, the more he suspected Jane could have been right. Then another fear surfaced: Supposing that Robert was indeed an alien, which could his intentions be?

After the Norwood incident had been solved, Erik came back to his job at the university, but never cut contact with Jane, always having a watchful eye in case that man tried something.

But nothing happened. The media in the British Islands covered the news, but nothing more transcended. Norwood led an inconspicuous life, far from the limelight, except for the economics section, where they covered his investments in technology.

And then, SHIELD appeared, Erik saw himself working with the most brilliant minds in the study of wormholes, and discovered that a great part of the foundations for that research was based on the investigation that Jane’s father started and that Jane developed.

The night of the accident was something he wanted to forget, and wished they gave him time to do so, but it was an urgent matter, said Fury while sitting by Selvig’s bedside, and Jane could be in danger if they made a miscalculation.

Jane was perfectly capable of conducting an activity of such magnitude by herself, but Fury had struck a chord, and Selvig cursed that man for knowing exactly which buttons to push.

For the moment, though, he was more than happy to see the two girls in good health.

Before they led him to the warehouse with the rest of the agents, Jane took Selvig to the house and called all the Asgardians for a formal introduction.

To say that Selvig was baffled would be an understatement. Because of his own ancestry, he grew up with tales from the Edda that his paternal grandmother told him when he was a child. In time he regarded such stories as they were: mere stories that evoked warm memories from his younger years.

It had been a good thing that Jane had urged him to sit down first. Meeting the protagonists of the stories from his childhood almost proved too much for the poor man, and was left speechless when Thor offered to shake his hand. He was a bit puzzled at the existence of the Warriors Three, which were never mentioned in the Norse sagas, but Fandral happily explained that their adventures on Midgard happened after the Norse era, in other parts of the planet, and that they were sadly short-lived until they had to leave to fight wars in other worlds.

Later, when the surprise had subsided and they were working at the warehouse, Selvig took Loki aside.

“So you were telling the truth, after all. At the bar, when I was telling you to go away and leave Jane alone.”

“Why do you ask?”

“You were nicknamed The God of Lies for a reason.”

Loki rolled his eyes.

“Use a bit of subtlety once in a while instead of cracking skulls and suddenly you are the god of lies,” he said. “I use my wits to adapt and survive, nothing more.”

But not everything was merriment and reunions. While Loki was at the warehouse, Thor and his friends overview the human agents setting up camp around the ranch while keeping themselves well away from the Asgardians. As much as Fury claimed they were collaborating, Thor saw clearly that the human soldiers were watching them too.

“Humans have changed,” Hogun declared, gazing at the humans going to and fro.

“Their History has been convoluted in the last centuries,” said Thor. “They know themselves weak, and they try to protect what little they have.”

“Yes, but we know that not every human is like those friends Loki made here,” said Volstagg.

“Are you sure the Tesseract has to remain here?” Sif, who still didn’t trust Loki, asked Thor. “What if it’s a trick from Loki?”

“I trust my brother,” Thor stated. “I know he’s prone to mischief, but I will never question his love for Asgard. It’s Fury the one who worries me, and the ones he might serve. He only agreed to help us because that would take us out of here.”

Out of curiosity, the Prince of Asgard entered the warehouse by noon. The scene was very different from the other days: The computers the humans had been using the previous days had been pushed to a corner, while the rest of the space had been taken over by two hideous structures of metal that he guessed were the portal and the reactor.

Loki, Jane and Selvig busied over the latter, taking a piece of metal from the case Agent Romanoff had brought with her, and carefully inserted it in one compartment. Curiosity got the better of him; he approached, but before he could ask, his brother smiled at him humorlessly.

“You wouldn’t believe what we used to stabilize the portal,” he said.

To Thor’s quizzical frown, Loki continued.

“They call it iridium. Just a small nugget costs a fortune here.”

He tapped one of the computer screens where the molecular structure was displayed and Thor understood. Names could change from planet to planet, but molecules were always the same. What humans held as a precious metal was used in Asgard as an everyday component, being very cheap and accessible. So accessible a child could get his hands on a nugget and melt it to try and craft a pendant, which was exactly what an eleven-year-old Thor tried to make for his mother’s birthday.

Had he asked the Palace Goldsmith, she would have told him that the fires shouldn’t have been so high, and that the waiting time for such a small piece of ore to melt was a few minutes. The whole process resulted in Thor singing his brows and almost causing a fire in the Palace.

Loki’s present didn’t fare better, for he tried a transmutation spell which would have turned two simple pebbles into emeralds, being the point of the present not the stones’ value, but his own achievement in creating them. The spell worked, at first, but since it was well beyond his level, after a few hours the emeralds’ molecular structure crumbled and they turned into green goo.

“This is truly a backwater world,” Thor murmured, careful no human could heard him. “No wonder Father exiled you here.”

“Don’t call him that,” Loki said, grimacing.

“Are you all right?”

“No,” then Loki reconsidered his tone and softened it. “Let’s think for now about the matter at hand, shall we? Could you help me later with the portal’s calibration? For now call the others to the house, we need to see where we need to land.”

xxxxXX-0-Xxxxxx

Asgard didn’t sit on a spherical world, like most Realms. Its lands formed a disk formed mostly by mountainous terrain. The capital city sat near the border, where most rivers flowed into their “sea” which, by most planets’ standards, was but a mere lake.

According to their own mythos, Asgardians were born with the light, and at first they didn’t have a home. They sought where to live but only found dead planets, thus they traveled through the Universe, until they arrived at Yggdrasil. They discovered Nine Realms on its branches and roots, but none of them could host the Asgardians, except for one. This world wasn’t round like the others, didn’t spin on an axis and didn’t revolve around a star: It was a disk of land which sat around a gravitational singularity, created by the same crystals that served as foundations.

The number three is a sacred number for the Asgardians, and so they built three times three fortresses on the new land’s mountains. From there they would learn to harness the power of the crystals, and so the Bifrost came to be, constructed in secret, for the Dark Elves hadn’t discovered the Asgardians’ planet yet.

The story continued with tall tales of Bor’s victories over the Dark Elves that would usher the Golden Age of Asgard. But for now the part that was most important was the nine fortresses: Most of them were still usable, and inside each of them there was a teleportation platform, not unlike the Bifrost itself, which connected the garrisons with the Palace. Thor’s friends and Sif were the ones with the closest contact with the Einherjar, hence why Loki wanted to hold a council of war with them.

Loki had asked Tony for some privacy for him and his compatriots, and the human gave JARVIS the order to darken all the windows and block any listening device that might be around the house.

Once they were reunited, Loki asked Volstagg for the holographic map he always carried.

A three-dimensional rendition of the asgardian lands floated above the dinner table. It wasn’t extremely detailed, but they only needed a rough underline of the geography.

“We know one fortress was at the location where the Palace now stands,” said Volstagg, marking it in red.

“These three are in ruins,” Falstaff continued, marking the range which ran closest to the city. “Which leaves us with five possible landing sites.”

Hogun extended his hand and marked another, close to the rim and the farthest from the city.

“This one’s platform started malfunctioning a month ago,” he stated. “They were still repairing it.”

“Down to four,” Sif mused, studying the map. “We can only guess where Tyr has taken the refugees.”

“Or if there’s only one group of civilians,” said Falstaff.

“We cannot be sure just yet,” Hogun tapped his chin thoughtfully. “Do Midgardians have the means to pinpoint our landing with precision?”

“No,” Loki raised his eyebrows when all eyes were on him. “It’s already a miracle that they went from steam power to nuclear fusion in a few of their decades.”

“It would be like shooting an arrow in a dark room,” Sif said to Thor, her eyes betraying the alarm that her voice managed to conceal.

“Even if we could pinpoint a safe landing site,” Loki insisted. “Our enemies will see it. The only thing we can do is move quickly before making any contact with a patrol.”

“Running away like cowards…” Sif muttered between clenched teeth.

Thor had presided the improvised council in silence, his powerful arms crossed over his chest. Only when an argument was about to erupt he raised his right hand and Sif grew silent, pursing her lips as she seethed.

“The odds are against us,” he said. “That is true, but it’s no less true that we are used to that. I’ve seen first-hand what Midgardians consider their most advanced technology and our children’s toys would put it to shame. We will work with what we have, and so we need a plan for when we arrive home. I hate to say this,” he smiled wryly, looking at his brother. “But this time we will have to do things as Loki says.”

Chapter Text

Temperatures dropped starkly in the desert when the sun went down. Loki had come to appreciate it, though he could have enjoyed the dusk hours far more hadn’t it been for his troubled mind.

He had been talking with Stark the previous days about Robert Norwood’s possessions on earth, and what would become of them once they traveled to Asgard. Loki wasn’t very keen on feigning again his own death, and wanted an administrator for his assets. Stark as an individual wasn’t his first option, for obvious reasons; Miss Potts, however, offered him the reassurance he needed.

The procedure was too long for him to be in Midgard, but Tony had assured him that JARVIS could help stamping Norwood’s name on the documents. Technically it wasn’t forgery, but a delayed signature.

That put his mind at ease, if only for a bit. Normally he never trusted managing his assets to anyone that wasn’t him, but he had no other option this time. Besides, robbing a god-like entity and expecting to get away with it would be so extremely stupid not even humans would think of it.

He heard steps behind him, and he didn’t need to turn around to know who it was.

“Evening,” Jane said as she stood by his side.

He looked at her. She watched the horizon while wrapping her jacket tighter around her body as the chilly wind picked up.

“Just a few hours more,” she said, breaking the silence and looking up at him with a smile. “Then you will be home.”

He slid his arm over her shoulders and pulled her to his side. Jane answered by throwing her arm around his waist, and he noticed her hands were shaking. When asked if she was all right, she took some moments to answer.

“Is not every day that you see someone off to war,” she said.

Loki pulled her against him, giving her a full hug and she answered in kind.

“Just promise me you will take care, that’s all,” she asked of him, her voice muffled against his chest.

He took her face between his hands and kissed her. The movement was so sudden it caught her off guard, but she quickly relaxed and kissed him back.

When their lips parted, neither pulled away, remaining with their brows touching.

“As long as I draw breath,” he whispered. “I will try to return to you. This I promise.”

“Just stay alive,” she smiled, despite the tears welling up in her eyes. She caressed his face and gave him a peck before pulling away. “Come on, Tony is preparing dinner for us.”

xxxxXX-0-X X xxxx

The Asgardians sung songs of battle that night, but reined themselves on the drinks and the food. As Volstagg said, “It wouldn’t do well to jump into the battlefield on an empty stomach”, but it wouldn’t be good either to do so while drunk and after a heavy meal.

At one point towards the end, Thor got up from his seat and beckoned all to keep quiet. He then expressed his gratitude towards their Midgardian friends for their help and hospitality and, more importantly, for having helped his brother when he needed it most. For that, he named the four Midgardians “Friends of Asgard”.

“It’s time,” he said at last, raising his glass.

They all got up from their seats, even Tony.

“Tonight we come home,” Thor said. “Tonight we take back what is ours. May our weapons be sharp and our shields strong. For our people. For Asgard.”

“For Asgard!” the others echoed.

xxxxXX-0-X X xxxx

Jane shivered slightly as she sat reviewing the numbers. Lack of sleep and restlessness added to the desert’s cold nights. Romanoff put a steaming mug of coffee at her side.

“It’s hard to say goodbye sometimes,” the spy smiled at her, holding another mug in her hands.

The scientist smiled back, though her gesture betrayed how tense she felt. After a few seconds of silence, she asked:

“Have you ever seen someone off to war? Someone that meant something to you.”

“Not exactly to war,” Natasha sat next to her, nursing her warm mug. “We work at another level. Not as flashy as the soldiers, but yes, I’ve seen people I loved off to some places.”

“Well love might be too strong of a-”

“I know the signs, Dr. Foster.”

Jane opened her mouth to complain, but closed it. What Stark had told her about this agent being an expert psychologist might be true.

“Plus I saw the two of you kissing before,” Natasha took a sip from her mug. “I would offer words of comfort and reassurance, but war is treacherous. We have very different ways to deal with our grief, should things go askew.”

“What are those ways?”

“I doubt you will ever need them,” the agent said, looking at the door.

Jane looked over the computer screen: The Asgardians had stepped into the hangar in full battle gear, all with grim expressions.

“If Loki alone could wreck those ice giants the way he did I hope the invaders are a bit stronger,” said Natasha, standing up. “Or else your friends will grow bored.”

Stark welcomed them before they climbed the portal’s platform.

“Ready, big boy?” he asked Thor.

“Ready as we will ever be,” Thor declared. His blue eyes bore an intense expression which contrasted with the smile he offered the human.

“Okay,” Tony clapped his hands and spoke to the scientists around him. “All right, ladies and gentlemen! These visitors need to go back home before breakfast time, so let’s start!”

The calibrations had been complete for a while, down with the compensation for the Earth’s movement. The Tesseract had been mounted on a device akin to a pedestal, which would feed the portal with enough energy to make the travel possible.

The portal activated with a deafening hum and a blue light blinded them when it activated. The last thing Jane could distinguish before the Asgardians disappeared was Loki smiling and winking at her.

Chapter Text

Traveling through that portal had been more discomforting than using the Bifrost, but the travelers arrived in Asgard safely.

They landed in the middle of the forest and, as soon as they materialized, they quickly ran for cover, knowing any patrol would give the alarm, but not before Loki conjured fresh snow to replace the one the portal’s energy had melted.

As they predicted, a patrol of Jotun soldiers rushed to the place. Loki cast a fog spell and the others quickly dispatched them. Another snow and ice spell and the piled corpses now lain in a frozen casket, hidden from view.

“All right,” said Volstagg, wiping at his sweaty brow. “Where are we?”

Hogun took a moment to assess the landmarks around them.

“We are south of fortress two,” he said, pointing north. “Maybe an hour away from it, if we walk carefully and avoid the patrols. It’s dusk already, so we can count on darkness as an ally.”

They set for the fortress, not talking during the short journey. Hogun, who had the keenest ears, went ahead and from time to time he gestured them to stop and lay low. A few times it was a wild animal passing by, but one time, when the wall of the fortress came into view in the distance, a patrol marched too close for comfort.

They were actively searching for something, probably alerted by the Asgardians’ arrival. Loki had to cast an invisibility spell on everyone; thankfully it lasted until he patrol was out of view, but once the spell dropped, he felt a wave of nausea as the ground seemed to shift under his feet. The others didn’t notice, too focused on keeping quiet.

None of them said a word, but the same thought occurred to them: That the fortress they were approaching might have been taken and that there were no Asgardian survivors inside.

The bastion had been built partly inside the mountain, so the outer wall formed a semicircle around the watchtower, with its lower part seemed to be engulfed by the mountain itself. Hogun, however, knew of a secret entrance built into the wall of rock, well protected by shrubbery and trees and away from the main construction.

Once the watchtower’s top became visible above the trees, Hogun made them change direction and he led them eastwards. Sif, who had the keenest eyes, saw no one atop the watchtower, something that gave them some hope.

The door, if that could be called that, was so perfectly carved into the stone that, once closed, it was impossible to find, unless one knew exactly where it stood. Bor himself had hired dwarven masons to design and build the fortresses and their secret entrances.

Starlight was now the only source of illumination. Hogun felt his way along the rocky wall for a few moments, that seemed like centuries for his companions, then took something from his pockets and inserted it on a small crevice. Those who were leaning against the wall felt a faint snap inside the rock, and the soft hum of a mechanism working.

They rushed in silently, and Hogun closed the door behind them.

The tunnel, which had been used back in the day for scouts, wounded its way inside the rock, twisting several times until it reached the catacombs, so narrow two men could barely walk abreast and so low at times they had to bow their heads. The lights, embedded into the upper side of one of the walls, didn’t work, and they didn’t try to switch them on, instead relying in the lightstones that each carried with them.

Thor threw a quizzical look at Loki when he saw his brother with his own lightstone in hand. The sorcerer carried it around out of custom, always trusting in his own magic.

“To save my strength,” Loki whispered.

His older brother nodded and kept walking with the others while Loki remained behind. The truth was that he didn’t feel confident about sustaining a spell and having enough energy for whatever battle they might encounter.

They reached the end of the tunnel, and Hogun quietly opened the door just a fraction to peek inside. He closed it and turned to his companions.

“Everything is darkened and silent,” he said. There was only the slightest sign of alarm in his voice, enough to make his companions grow uneasy.

“Loki could scout ahead with you,” Thor offered.

Fandral objected, arguing that he was more silent than Hogun, but the grim warrior was the one who knew the fortress layout better.

Hogun slipped through the door with Loki in tow. The secret passage opened to a narrow corridor in the catacombs, near the storerooms.

“Where is the teleportation chamber?” Loki whispered.

“Everything is silent,” the man repeated, extinguishing the light of his lithgstone. “I fear we will only find death. Follow me.”

With the door at their back, Hogun turned to the right and led Loki to the end of the passage.

“That hallway led to the main storeroom,” he said to Loki. “The armory is not far away.”

The narrow hallway ran for several yards before opening to a wider one that went to the left and to the right. Hogun turned left, always as silently as he could, and always walking along their leftmost wall.

They slunk along the broader hall, still unable to hear anything, and having to feel their way along the masonry, for most of the lights had been put out. The wall suddenly opened into a hallway, parallel to the one they had first come from; Hogun followed it. Loki counted their steps and they walked deeper into that one passage. Then they came in front of a metal door, half open. Hogun made a signal: that was the armory. Both men pushed the door open to peer inside, their weapons at the ready.

The dim light from the corridor poured into the chamber, revealing empty weapon racks and broken swords and spears scattered on the ground. That room served as the antechamber for the forge, a commodity that every stronghold had. Stepping deeper into the armory, Loki risked a bit of illumination and used his lightstone.

The anvils had been all broken, torn from their places, and the forge itself had been almost demolished, cold coal dispersed through the floor, mixed with the masonry and the metal.

“The fortress has been taken,” Hogun said.

“Taken?” mused Loki. “No one takes an enemy position and destroys it. You occupy it and make use of it. This makes no sense.”

“We should bring the others.”

“Fair enough.”

xxxxXX-0-XXxxxx

The other warriors stood in silence in the empty armory, too shocked by the mindless destruction around them.

“Why would they do such a thing?” Sif said in a low voice, lifting a charred shield from the ground.

With the combined lightning from all the lightstones, they could see burnt marks along the walls, probably from the aliens’ weapons.

“I don’t think there might be survivors,” Volstagg said, his countenance grim.

“Not with this mindless destruction,” Thor lifted part of an anvil and turned it, careful that it didn’t make noise. “Hogun, lead us to the teleportation chamber.”

Silently, they came out of the armory and returned to the main passage. Despite the silence, they didn’t dare to rush or make a noise, for they didn’t know if any enemy remained in the fortress.

“The kitchen must be working,” Volstagg observed to Fandral in a very low voice. “I can smell roasted meat from here.”

After several yards of slow advance in the dim light of the corridor, they came upon the main stairs. As they climbed them, they started to see the first corpses.

The Einherjar had been struck by energy weapons, her armors rendered useless, their shields a weak protection against the aliens’ attacks. None of them could be recognizable anymore. Carbonized skulls with mouths ajar stared at the ceiling, some bodies lain in a heap against the wall, sprawled limbs, burnt hands still clutching their spears. The invaders hadn’t come out unscathed, but their fallen were far less than the Asgardians'.

The group had to cover their noses when the stench of rotting, burnt flesh assaulted them, and Volstagg gagged a few times.

Navigating the deserted fortress, they could reconstruct the battle that had taken place, and their spirits sank, fearing that the teleportation chamber had been destroyed too. Hogun assured them that it had been well hidden, and that only a special key could open the door.

As they made their way deeper into the mountain, the corpses grew fewer in number, until they found no more dead soldiers. They had arrived at the barracks and entered one of the rooms. Some beds lain in disarray, while others were perfectly made. The soldiers’ possessions were still where they had placed them: a keepsake, a statuette, a book… personal items that each soldier held dear.

Hogun approached one of the side walls and touched the stones until he found a small crevice. A piece of the wall moved, just enough for a big man like Volstagg to pass, and a door opened.

That wasn’t a direct entrance to the transport chamber, but the access to the maze that gave entry to said room. Teleportation chambers weren’t the standard procedure, but a measure used in times of need. Only high rank soldiers knew how to access and operate them, and since regular inspection was made from the Palace, there was no need to access them from the fortresses. Hogun knew the way and guided them with sure feet. When they arrived Hogun examined the chamber and said no one had accessed it in months, with was a good sign.

However, the power wasn’t at one hundred per cent of its capacity. There would be energy for transporting one person before it could recharge and allow the rest to travel in group.

“I will go,” said Sif.

“I can’t allow that,” Thor replied. “If they have discovered the room but don’t know how to use the device they will have set up guards. Hogun, where does this platform go?”

“Near the barracks at the Palace.”

“That is not far from the main stairs,” Thor mused. “Let’s hope the shield still covers that part of the Palace. Loki, how is your magic?”

“I can change my form if needed,” he said. “Explore the area and prepare it for your arrival.”

“You are still wounded.”

“No one will see me.”

Hogun gave him the code to open the door he would likely find at the other side, then typed the keywords and the commands in the console. The platform glowed faintly as the device hummed. Loki prepared his spell for the moment he appeared at the other side. Doing it a fraction of a second too soon, while the transference of matter was still ongoing would unleash and explosion of energy.

The platform glowed and a flash of light engulfed him.

Chapter Text

As soon as he appeared at the other side he transformed into a horsefly and darted straight to the ceiling.

The residual energy of the platform gave a faint and unnatural luminescence to the silent and empty room. Loki waited some minutes to see if the platform’s energy had been detected, but seeing that no one seemed to have noticed, he flew to the floor and returned to his normal form.

With a faint creaking sound, the door opened to an empty corridor. He transformed again into a horsefly and darted into the Palace's halls.

Contrary to popular belief and the expectations of his tutors, Loki retained both his personality and his intelligence each time he changed form. Of course, he never told anyone about it, especially his tutors.

Loki had to twist and turn several times to access the main halls which connected all the sections in that lower level. He wasn’t entirely surprised to see Svartálfar soldiers patrolling the halls, but he was a bit worried to see other insects wandering around.

His worry turned to alarm when he noticed the amount of flies growing as he advanced; not only that, but they were all as if in a frenzy, constantly repeating the same simple concepts about food and about "nesting". It was something that happened in battlefields, when recovering the fallen took too long, something Loki had been used to. But not at the Palace.

He landed on a wall after a while, almost unable to keep flying. His right arm hadn’t healed completely and it hurt. Plus there was the constant and ever more intense smell of food in the air, which made Loki think of the larders at the kitchen being open and ransacked, with the flies having a free and abundant source of food and a place where to lay their eggs. Thor and Volstagg would surely throw a fit over the spoiled meat.

Then he remembered that the infirmary was near the training grounds, and decided that a small detour was necessary.

When he flew near the rooms with a view to the exterior, he saw plumes of smoke rising from several parts of the city; beyond them, small scouting ships patrolled the skies.

The training grounds had been destroyed, for what little he could see, along with an extensive part of the barracks, the infirmary and the armory. Loki flew over to what remained of the infirmary and, transforming into a squirrel, he slip into the wreckage on broken furniture and smashed crystals searching for any remaining healing stone.

What he hadn’t remembered between transformations was that each animal had a different way to perceive their surroundings. The rich aromas he had sensed as a fly transformed into a hideous stench when he turned into a squirrel. He scurried towards the source of the smell to see that, outside, in the middle of what had been the training grounds, there was a giant pyre, the embers still burning. The remnants of servants, Einherjars and healers had been unceremoniously piled up and burnt, without rites, without honors, as if they had been plague-ridden vermin. Dark Elves took no prisoners.

There the flies swirled, danced and mated. There was a feast lain down for them in that pile of corpses, as they might have never seen before.

His small squirrel stomach churned; the stench made him gag and turn away, running as fast as he could towards the infirmary, where he rummaged among the wreckage to avoid all the broken glass, in places easy to access for a small creature, but he only found smashed phials and ruined stones. Just when he was about to give out any hope and go back to his scouting mission, he saw a red glint out of the corner of his eye. Squeezing under a broken bed frame, he found himself in a small crawling space where the bed served as an accidental barricade against a wall. There, Loki found an overturned tray, laying in a puddle of liquid. Among the broken glass, there was one healing stone miraculously intact. Gingerly, he pulled at the tray, which fell to the floor with a faint clang, and tried to break the curative item, but his current body was too weak. He rolled it towards the wall and, holding to it, he reverted to his original form.

The space was smaller than he thought, and he saw himself squeezed in a fetal position, but the stone was still in his hand. Loki broke it in his left hand and let it act on his injured shoulder. He sighed, relieved, when the dull pain in his right side went away. Not loosing another moment, he went back to his horsefly shape and darted out of the crawling space, and out of the destroyed infirmary.

Now with his wound finally healed he could fly at full speed and scout the Palace.

He was no stranger to infiltration missions, and working inside their own home should have added some advantage. But this was not the case. The thrill Loki used to feel whenever he scouted enemy territories had been replaced by a mounting sense of anxiety that he had to work very hard to suppress.

The lifts were out of power and all the stairs were heavily guarded, rendering any direct approach a futile venture. He retraced his steps to a junction near the secret room and started tracing another route, this one leading to the kitchens. Through that route he found less Svartalfheim soldiers, but discovered there were Jötnar patrolling that area.

Unlike the infirmary, the food storage hadn’t been completely destroyed, though it had been equally plundered, serving, as he had suspected, as another source of food for the flies. There was a secret entrance, cleverly disguised behind an unassuming cupboard in a corner, opening to a passage which led directly to the residential area of the Palace. Food was delivered through there on a daily basis, which made the trip to the private dinning hall for the Royal Family far quicker than through other means. The lift on that area would be out of power, but he hope the stairs were still practicable.

Loki’s current form allowed him to inspect the door and confirm it hadn’t been discovered yet. He was so absorbed in his task he didn’t heard the booming voices of two Jötnar approaching the room.

“… starving us to death, these blasted pale faces, a fire upon them!” one was saying as they crossed the threshold.

“Hush! They might hear you.”

The one who spoke first, who wielded an ice saber, spit on the ground.

“Blast them,” he repeated, though in a lower voice. “Why did they hoard all the food and we have to scavenge for the crumbs? And why can’t we just bomb the upper palace and be done with it? Those elves have the weapons to do it.”

“The shield, remember?”

“’Course I remember! I’m not stupid, you know? I meant bomb just below the shield and let it all fall down, Allfather and everything. See if the shield stands after that.”

The Jötunn chuckled with a low, cruel voice which made Loki desire to reveal himself and kill him on the spot. The second giant didn’t find that comment as humorous either, and scowled as his companion searched the larder for whatever food was left while he guarded the door. They seemed to have absconded from their duty to eat a bite.

“That elf king wants the Allfather alive, so does His Majesty,” the second Jötunn reminded his companion. “I know you have a grudge, but your beef is with that blonde prince. You can smash his face when he appears and His Majesty might decorate you.”

“If he appears. The coward ran like a bat out of Muspelheim as soon as we appeared.”

“Weren’t there two princes?”

The first giant laughed again.

“One would think that, but I wouldn’t call that flimsy, spell-weaving kitten a prince.”

“You fell down the cliff chasing one of his illusions,” when his companion threw him a dirty glance, he changed the subject. “What I was wondering is that we haven’t seen nor heard from him.”

The other kept busying himself rummaging among the broken casks of mead, but he stopped for a moment to grunt.

“Yeah, maybe we should have interrogated all those servants. Not that it would have done any good, thought. Asgardians are too stubborn to live.”

“There’s always that one who caves in,” the second Jötunn mused, scratching his chin, his formerly conciliatory tone shifting to a more sinister one. “Just find their children and you will have the key, and when they spill the secrets do the little piglets in anyway.”

“No luck with that, little runts scurry away like rats. Damn elves, they took all the good drinks and all the salted meat,” the giant with the saber kept grunting as he rummaged in the larder. “You think is to fatten that Malekith? I’d say he would need the drinks, poor fella must chug only vinegar by the scowl on that face.”

His companion didn’t answer to that and the Jötunn chuckled.

“You worry too much about them hearing our gossiping. They have only learned a few words to order us around, and that’s it. You can tell them you will piss on their mother’s grave and they’ll be none the wiser.”

Still, his companion didn’t say a word. That silence annoyed the saber-wielding giant into trying to turn his head to shout at him. He felt something sharp pricking at the base of his skull and his hands stopped mid movement.

“We are going to talk,” said a soft voice behind him. “And you are going to tell me everything I need to know.”

The Jötunn heard words of magic too, and a sense of dread invaded him, then mounting terror as his whole body started shaking. His mind was filled with images of the whole room catching fire while he was trapped inside the larder, hanging upside down, hands and feet tied.

“The fire is coming,” whispered the voice. “Unless you tell me.”

The giant had forgotten why he had come to the kitchen in the first place, he had forgotten he had a companion, and even that he was crouched in the floor and not hanging from the ceiling. But the Voice told him that the fire would go away if he talked. The Voice was his friend and would keep the flames away. The Voice would save him.

“Ask… and I’ll speak.”

xxxxXX-0-X X xxxx

“Do you see anything?”

“No.”

Thor frowned. It wasn’t normal that his brother was taking so long in a scouting mission in familiar territory.

A fly pestered Hogun, who swatted at it with his hand before quietly closing the secret door.

“Great, the Palace is overrun with flies,” Fandral murmured.

Volstagg squeezed his ax’s handle until his knuckles turned white.

They were all back illuminated by the blue glowing of the platform. It had taken roughly an hour and a half to power up completely for their group to travel, but now they were stuck. Fandral had suggested them to advance quietly into the Palace, but Thor didn’t want to risk putting the entire Svartalfheim army on high alert without knowing where his brother was.

Sif seemed to want to say something, but thought better of it and instead she put a hand on Volstagg’s arm.

“How long do we wait?” she finally asked.

“As long as it takes,” Thor said, arms crossed in a pensive attitude.

“He was wounded,” Volstagg pointed out. When his companions looked up at him, he looked concerned. “I thought you had noticed. His right arm hadn’t healed yet and he tried using it as little as possible.”

“Why would he offer, then?” Hogun wondered.

“I might have an idea.”

They all looked up at Sif, who had spoken.

“What if he…?” she paused for a moment, as if thinking twice about what he was going to say. “What if there is duplicity in him?”

Thor looked at her in silence. Far from backing down, she elaborated.

“He set you up to ruin your great day,” Sif continued. “Jötnar soldiers appeared at the Vault. Neither Heimdall’s all-seeing eyes, nor Huginn or Muninn could detect them.”

The Warriors Three frowned at that suggestion at first but, each one in turn, it all seemed to dawn on them, yet no one said a word.

Neither did Thor at first, but when he did, his voice was low and calm.

“I will not deny my brother’s mischief at the Coronation Day,” he said slowly. “However, the invasion happened while my brother was exiled on Midgard, his powers sealed away, with no means to contact anyone outside that realm.”

He approached Sif and, while he made no menacing display, and the woman didn’t step back, nor averted her eyes, there was a change in her expression.

“What you suggest is treason of the highest level, and I won’t allow such words to be uttered in my presence, either against my brother, nor against any of my closest allies, and that includes you, Lady Sif. Twice you have doubted him, I won’t let distrust create a rift between us a third time. If you can’t find in your heart to trust Loki, have faith in me when I say his heart is true. Isn’t my word enough for you?”

She looked shaken, as if the words “Lady Sif” had deeply wounded her, yet she quickly recovered and proudly straightened her back.

“He’s probably skulking in the shadows,” said Fandral with a smile, trying to ease the tension. “He might have felled some enemies on the way.”

“Not quite, but also yes,” said a voice from a corner.

All except Thor drew their weapons, though they relaxed as Loki stepped into the blue glow of the platform.

“How long have you been there?” Volstagg exclaimed.

“It was the fly,” Hogun revealed with a hint of tiredness in his voice. I hated being fooled by Loki’s illusions, and the Younger Prince knew it.

Thor didn’t want to lose any more time, and interrogated his brother about the state of the Palace. As Loki summed up what he had seen and heard, their faces became more grim.

According to the Jötunn, the shield had shrunk considerably, but still covered the private quarters.

“Not everything is lost,” Loki encouraged them. “If we can get to the kitchens we might be able to access our quarters. You know we can trespass it.”

“Another stealth mission?” Fandral smiled.

“As much as we can,” said Thor. “It’s not our first time doing this. Let’s go.”

They snuck out of the room, closing the door behind, and skulked through the halls until they reached the ones being patrolled.

The first one they killed silently and dragged the bodies out of the way, but they wouldn’t have that advantage anymore, so they would have to rely also in swiftness before the corpses were discovered and the alarm sound.

As they advanced through the halls, swiftly yet silently, they encountered more patrols that they dispatched with more or less ease, using stealth and illusions in equal part. At Loki's suggestion, from the last patrol they encountered near the kitchens, they dragged the two soldiers all the way to their destination. Neither knew what he could be planning, but upon seeing the two Jötnar corpses, Fandral and Hogun started at once to arrange them all as if a ferocious fight had happened between them and the Dark Elves.

They could hear voices and hurried steps near them; Thor hurried his companions through the secret door. When he closed it behind them, they could hear the Svartálfar soldiers entering the room and suddenly falling silent. Alliances could be as brittle as dried leaves, especially those established among races who despised each other, yet joined forces against a common enemy.

Not wishing to linger there for too long, and before the Svartálfar keened their ears after the initial surprise, Thor and his allies had already scurried away through the secret stair.

And as secret as it was, it was wide and well lit to make the coming and going of servants swift and easy. It ran straight to the residential levels, where a door opened for each one, until they arrived at the top level, where the Royal quarters and the private dinning hall were.

Volstagg had never been a friend of stairs, and each time they had seen themselves in a similar situation, he had voiced his displeasure at every opportunity, loudly and clearly, and afterwards he had claimed that the exertion had cost him a good deal of his good-looking figure, and that he had to eat double the accustomed quantity not to displease his beloved wife. Not this time, however. His friends noticed the change and exchanged silent glances, but none said a thing as Volstagg pressed forward with grim determination.

Their hope, however, was cut short when they saw the stairs ending in a cave-in before they could have seen the barrier or a door.

Sif put her hear to the wall and listened. They saw her closing her eyes and waiting, then move to a point further down and a few seconds later move again in the same direction. She knocked softly on the wall once in one place, and again in another. Seemingly satisfied, she opened her eyes and smiled.

"We could open a door here," she offered.

"Wouldn't the ruckus attract more guards?" Fandral wondered.

"Probably, and that's why we should have a plan. It's either that or go back down and try our luck through all the heavily guarded floors."

"I could do something about that," said Loki.

They discussed the plan, which involved Loki casting an illusion over the entire group to make them look as Dark Elves. Then Volstagg and Hogun would tear down the wall as quickly as possible and they would be out. Fandral, who hadn't spoken until that moment, shook his head, calling the plan a ludicrous one and pointing out all the possible things that could go wrong.

"What if they see us? What if they ask us anything? We don't understand their language and we won't know which floor we will be when we get out."

"We will know," Sif said. "You know I'm not a friend of nonsensical plans, but I counted the steps each floor occupies and then counted the floors we have been ascending and I know we are two floors below the residential floors. Besides, this area doesn't hold any strategic interest and the Palace will be probably in high alert with the chaos we created in the first floor."

Thor eyed her with a mixture of surprise and admiration. Lady Sif had always striven to emulate her friends' way of fighting, which was mostly rushing into combat and plan as events unfolded. There was a strategic mind in her that she rarely displayed with them, and the prince couldn't fathom why.

"That is, of course," Sif continued, her cheeks subtly reddening when she noticed Thor's eyes on her. "If my assumptions are right and we are extremely lucky."

"We don't have time to lose," Loki urged. "This is the best chance we have before they regroup."

Saying this, he put his hand against the wall, right were Sif had pointed them out and muttered some words. The temperature around him dropped suddenly and they could see frost quickly spreading from his hand and covering the wall. When it had reached a considerable size, he retired his hand and faced them, he extended his arms towards them and chanted another spell. They didn't feel anything about themselves, but looking at their companions, each saw how the others' images blurred and shifted like in a rippling pond, and when the effect passed they looked like full armored Svartalfheim soldiers.

Of course, not everyone looked the same, and their initial body size affected the outcome. In this manner there was a very tall and strong Dark Elf, a very sturdy-looking one, three that looked an ordinary soldier and one who looked specially graceful.

"Why do I have to be the scrawny one?" Sif protested.

" Initial body mass , not counting vestments," Loki repeated the theory of the spell with the same patience one would use when reading the small print on a contract to another person. "I can make you look bigger, if that's what you desire, but try not to bump into anything or it will trespass the illusion."

As Hogun and Volstagg broke the wall with their weapons, Loki made the small adjustments that Sif had asked, and now she looked like an average Dark Elf.

Thor was the first one to look outside and signaled them to follow him. Instead of taking the path to the main staircase, they decided to use one of the service stairs and pray it hadn't been blocked. The corridors were deserted but not undisturbed; as they marched on towards their destination, they saw burnt marks on the walls and floor and broken tiles here and there. As they had predicted, the Dark Elves were in high alert; they could hear in the distance groups of soldiers running to and fro and captains shouting orders. Twice they crossed paths with patrols on their way to the stairs, the first time Thor nodded to their captain as they rushed by, the second time, however, the patrol's captain stopped them and inquired about something. The line of questioning was unmistakable, since they were walking in the opposite direction everyone was running towards.

The Prince tried to communicate with signs that they were going towards the stairs, but the further he gesticulated, the more irate the Dark Elf seemed, and the more suspicious his five subordinates grew. Since this had already happened in the past, as soon as they had been stopped, Loki and Sif took defensive positions at each side of Thor, while Hogun, Fandral and Volstagg slowly formed a barrier to prevent the elves from escaping.

The first blow came from the Dark Elf captain, which Thor blocked with ease, but the contact made the illusion of the disguise spell ripple like disturbed water and disappear, revealing Thor with Mjolnir in his hand; in an instant, the other Dark Elves brandished their weapons and readied to shoot, but Loki had a spell already prepared: a burst of blue energy sprouted from his hand and hit one of the elves, freezing the weapon and jamming it. Sif threw a knife, which hit another in the shoulder, making him shoot at the ceiling, while Hogun, Fandral and Volstagg, using the diversion of their two companions, jumped on the other elves and engaged them in combat.

While Thor wrestled the captain, Loki and Sif drew their weapons and jumped on their opponents. They had to finish that scuffle as quickly as possible, lest more guards appeared down the corridor.

Loki found that the Svartalfheim armor had little to no opening and was harder than he expected. The elf punched him in the ribs, but he used the opening to grab the back of his head with the opposite hand and slam it against a wall. As the elf's head hit the stone, Loki conjured an ice knife and a shard materialized on the palm of his hand so quickly it became instantly embedded in the skull with a sickening cracking sound. He let the elf fall to the ground and turned around: Volstagg had dealt with his rival and was helping Fandral, while Thor had electrocuted the captain and crushed his skull, rushing next to help Sif, but the Lady had just slit her rival's throat with a swift movement. Hogun had sustained a burn on his arm when his opponent tried to fire at him, but the Grim had crushed the elf's weapon with his mace; quick as a snake, the elf unsheathed his blade but Hogun had been prepared and, instead of stopping the mace and changing his stance after the first blow, he used the momentum to trace a full circle and bring the mace to the elf's side, hitting him in the elbow. The rest of the fight had been as quick as those of his companions.

"We must hurry!" Thor urged when all their enemies were dealt with. There were no rooms near and no time to drag all the corpses out of view.

With a mixture of ice knifes and frost touch, Loki arranged all the corpses to make it look as if they had been fighting Jötnar.

This time they ran down the hall, their disguises ruined. A small patrol tried to cut their path, but Thor and Volstagg charged at them, ramming them against the walls as they continued their flight. Loki turned around for a second and froze the floor behind them to try and slow their pursuers down.

They turned a corner at an intersection and they could see it straight ahead: There was a wide landing that opened to three corridors, and the stairs were guarded only by two soldiers.

"Twin snakes!" Loki heard Thor yelling.

Sidestepping, he fell slightly behind and at his brother's side, throwing two steel daggers at the dark elves. At that moment, Thor released a lightning bolt which charged the weapons; one hit a guard in the neck felling him, the other bounced on the other's mask, merely knocking his head back; that soldier sounded the alarm and fired at the assailants. Sif deflected the shot with her shield; the momentum nearly threw her backwards, but she caught her footing with ease and kept charging.

Fandral was the first one to reach the elf; his rapier nearly found it's mark, but the soldier had unsheathed his own blade and parried his attack. Fandral kept attacking as his friends saw more soldiers appearing around the corridors leading to the stairs. The elves advanced slowly, their weapons trained at them and shooting. On one side, Thor spun his hammer to create a shield, but he could only cover so much at a given time. Volstagg rammed his ax on the guard Fandral was fighting against and knocked the elf over. Meanwhile, guards from downstairs and upstairs were already upon them.

Loki heard his brother yelling his name; he extended his hands and a thick fog enveloped them, flooding the entire landing and the stairs below.

"Thor!" he yelled. "Charge it!"

Thor stopped his hammer, lest he would disperse the fog and, before running up the stairs, he extended Mjolnir and conjured a lightning bolt. The energy mixed with the fog and the Svartalfheim, though still able to see through the mist, found themselves trapped inside a storm cloud.

Climbing, they found another troop waiting for them in the next floor. Their objective wasn't to win that fight, but to keep advancing. Thor, Volstagg and Hogun served as barrier while the others kept climbing, as more soldiers arrived at the landing, and some had been able to cross the electric field below; Loki sung an enchantment as his hands made a twisting motion towards the ceiling, a cloud formed above the Dark Elves, and from that cloud it fell a heavy sleet, freezing the ground below them. Volstagg swung back at his opponent and the elf slipped on the now icy floor, falling on his back. Thor and Hogun both kicked at their own rivals, who likewise slipped on the ice, knocking back their companions as they fell; the friends used the confusion to keep running and dodging astray shots.

The barrier was near, just another turn on the small landing, and Loki heard a grunt near him. Thor had been hit on his leg and had tripped. With an exclamation, Sif turned on her steps and grabbed the Prince by one arm; quickly, Loki grabbed the other and they dragged Thor away from danger.

Golden particles enveloped them as they crossed the energy field and fell to the ground, the Dark Elves in hot pursuit but, upon seeing them at the other side, they stopped on their tracks.

Volstagg was the first one to notice, so did the other friends soon enough: The Svartálfar didn't show any sign of frustration, no word that would indicate any distress. They simply stared at them and, slowly and in silence, they went from whence they had come.

"Like patient wolves," Fandral pointed out. "Just waiting for their prey to tire out."

"They will have another think coming," Thor grunted as he leaned on Sif and Loki. "Come on, our arrival is long overdue."

Chapter Text

"What happened here?" Fandral asked.

Everyone looked around them. They had expected barricades blocking the access to the halls and the Einherjar behind them. But there were no barricades. And no halls to speak of. The walls ran smoothly from corner to corner, and when they looked back at the stairs, they had disappeared.

"This looks like cousin Freyja's doing," Loki mused. "Was she still here?"

"She remained with Mother," said his brother. "You know she likes her visits long. Odr went back home with the girls the day after the coronation."

The group approached one of the walls and Thor bellowed to be given passage. Some moments passed when they could hear the shuffling of feet and murmur of excited voices. The illusion of the wall quivered and shifted until it faded, and they were met by a squad of Asgardian soldiers, their golden spears trained at them.

"Your Highness?" Their captain exclaimed, before ordering his soldiers to stand at ease and bowing to the Princes. "Your Highness! You are back, both of you! Our prayers have been heard at last!"

Thor let go of Loki and Sif and walked towards the captain, wincing slightly.

"Where is Commander Tyr?"

The captain's bright expression darkened slightly.

"We do not know, Your Highness. We know he took many refugees with him and many soldiers and that he's resisting somewhere in the city. Forgive my curiosity but, how did you know where was the only stair that could be used? We either blocked the others or tore them down to have less flanks to protect."

"We, uh, we knew, of course we knew," Thor nodded, while his friends looked at each other.

The captain then explained that, up until that moment, that service stair had been the only access to the floor, but with the barrier shrinking and that side of the tower falling outside the shield's radius, they had planned to change to the main staircase from that level on. He then assigned a soldier to escort them to the uppermost level, where the Queen and her retinue stayed.

On that level they had already vacated all the rooms, though they could see signs of them having being inhabited not long ago. Now only soldiers went to and fro, preparing for the inevitable withdrawal, but every one of them stopped what they were doing to salute the Princes.

When they arrived at the last level they could look inside the many rooms and chambers, filled with people from the Palace and from the city. Soon word spread that the Princes had come back and, while no one dared to step into the corridors, which had been strictly forbidden by the soldiers, the doors were filled with curious faces, full of hope and optimism. Volstagg couldn’t resist it anymore and he approached each door, asking for his family. He didn’t receive any answer, until they arrived near the stairs leading to Odin’s Chamber, when a woman told him that his wife and children had gone with Commander Tyr.

The giant man’s shoulders slumped.

“Don’t worry, friend,” Fandral slapped his back. “That means they are safe.”

"Tyr is a great warrior,” Hogun added, his normally stern tone softening. “They are well protected.”

Volstagg nodded and sighed, closing his eyes and steeling himself. When he opened them, it was as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders, and he followed Thor in silence.

They finally arrived at the Antechamber, where their escort announced their arrival.

At the center of the room stood a circle of Vanir priestesses with Frigga presiding the rite, hands joined, eyes closed and heads looking upwards. A halo surrounded them and a strange humming filled the room, which was nothing but the voices of the sorceresses, renewing the spell with their energy.

In a corner at the other side of the room, furbished as an improvised resting place, other women sat quietly, some dozing off, some eating, and some in deep meditation.

The ones who were awake turned their heads towards the door as soon as it opened. One of them stood up and rushed to meet them, giving Thor a warm embrace.

“My dear cousins!” said Freyja, taking his hands. “We knew you would return!” she then turned to Loki and extended her hand to him. “And let me look at you! My poor darling, exiled to a minor world, but what is all that blood covering you? I won’t let my Aunt see you like that.”

With a blink of her blue eyes, all the blood splattering their armors went away, the burnt marks in Sif’s shield disappeared, and their vestments now looked clean and polished. Then Freyja noticed Thor's injury, despite the Prince's best efforts to act is if it wasn't bothering him, and ordered her maids to tend to him.

“Thank you so much for helping the Princes return home, my dears," Freyja told Lady Sif and the Warriors Three. "But I’m afraid this is no place for warriors. You are welcome to rest here should you need it, but if you feel that your skills would better be used elsewhere you are free to come and go as you please.”

The Warriors Three and Sif consulted with Thor, and they agreed that they wold go to strengthen the defenses through the Palace and take command where needed.

“I see Mother has left a capable steward in her place,” Loki pointed out with a smile, while the others talked.

“I’ll relieve your mother shortly,” she said, her bright smile faltering for a moment. “We are taking turns to keep the shield up for as long as we can until someone can wield Gungnir,” she squeezed his hands. “I hoped Thor would bring you with him, and here you are.”

“Here I am, indeed.”

Freya held his gaze for a moment.

“You have changed,” she said. It wasn’t an accusation, but a musing said aloud. “There is a sadness now about you two.”

He chuckled, ready to weave a story, but then she caressed his cheek. Sweet Freyja, she could sense every emotion from those surrounding her. Of all his family, she was the hardest to fool, but she often had the good sense of not betraying anything to others. Whatever she perceived in other people, she tried using it to help them, or she kept the knowledge to herself.

“And there is pain in you,” Freyja frowned.

“I don’t think this is the time for-”

“I know, darling, please forgive me. We have much to do, and I think it’s time for the Queen to take a rest.”

She turned around and went to the other women, her golden mane trailing behind like a veil, her feet so light she looked as if she danced when she moved.

Those in meditation opened their eyes and those sleeping were roused. All stood up and slowly trailed to form a circle around the acting sorceresses. The newcomers joined hands and started to intone the same humming incantation. As if it was a dance, the newcomers raised their joined hands and stepped forward, just in time for the old circle to let go of their companions’ hands and take a step back.

Two handmaids rushed to the Queen’s side to support her while the other sorceresses, showing various degrees of tiredness, gingerly walked towards the resting corner where they took seats or lain down. No one noticed the Princes until Frigga had been seated and cast a glance around the room.

She covered her mouth so as not to raise her voice and disturb the spell. Thor and Loki walked to her, happy to see her safe and sound.

“Oh, my prayers have been heard,” Frigga said, trying to stand up. Her strength failed and she nearly fell, but her sons’ arms were already supporting her. “Bless you, my children. Let me rest but a moment, and let me look at you,” she said, taking Loki’s hand.

Loki knelt at her side, Thor following suit, but Frigga’s green eyes were fixed on her youngest child.

“Much has changed in you,” she said, caressing his cheek. “Who weaved that spell around you? It’s a very powerful protection.”

“She goes by the name of ‘Sorcerer Supreme’ in Midgard,” he said.

“You will tell me everything that has happened when this is over,” she said, trying to stand up again. This time supported by her sons. “Time is short and we mustn’t tarry.”

She led them to Odin’s Chamber, where no one but the royal family and a very small number of servants could enter. To any intruder, Odin lain on a gigantic bed gilded in gold, but it was actually a stasis chamber where he could regenerate his energy. Huginn and Muninn, his ever-watchful crows, would have sat at a perch over him, but no one had seen them since the Allfather entered into the Odinsleep. Above said perch, mounted on the wall, sat Gungnir, Odin's spear.

Frigga let go of Thor’s arm and walked past the bed, towards the opposite wall. She lifted the spear on her hands and walked back to them using it as a cane.

"You will have to work together," she said.

The brothers looked at each other. Thor hadn't trained to control his powers and the source of Loki's mystical energy was a mystery. If Gungnir had been attuned to channel only the Odinforce the results could be catastrophic.

"Are you sure?" Loki asked.

"Thor's magic is not strong enough," she smiled. "But you can help him direct and amplify his energy."

Seeing that she didn't seen to understand their concern, Thor decided to speak up.

"He knows everything, Mother."

Her smile faltered, still gazing at her younger son.

"He broke the Allfather's seal," Thor elaborated. "Then his magic went wild as you predicted and his true nature was revealed. But no one saw it, that I made sure of."

She chuckled mirthlessly, closing her eyes briefly.

"It was only a matter of time," she took his younger son's hand. "I suppose you will have many questions."

Loki squeezed her hand.

"For now I only want to know if my Jötun blood will interfere."

The Queen shook her head.

"Magic follows many paths," she explained. "And the Odinforce is no exception. I know Thor's training didn't yield the expected results, and he will have to correct that when everything is solved, but for now you are going to help him guide his energy. Have no fear, my son, there is far more than Jötun blood in your veins," she touched his cheek. "Ever since Odin put you in my arms I knew you would be a powerful magician, and I'm not the only one who saw it."

The words of the Sorceress Supreme came back to him.

Crossroads...

“Then you know my power can go either way. I could be a savior or a destroyer all the same.”

She frowned a bit, but then her gesture softened with a smile.

"Wanton destruction is not in your nature," she said. "Mischievous as you have always been, there has never been a desire to harm the innocent. I don't know what that Sorcerer Supreme might have told you, but I am Frigga, Queen of the Aesir, and your Mother, and I mastered these arts long before Midgardians looked up at the stars and started numbering the days and months."

She called Thor to their side and offered Gungnir to him, then she took Loki's hand and put it in the weapon below Thor's.

"As it should be, so be it," she pronounced. "Now go to the Antechamber and stand in the center."

They did as instructed, but before they stepped into the circle of priestesses, Frigga gave each a small phial for them to drink. Knowing what it was, Loki drank it right away, but Thor eyed it suspiciously.

"This will restore your energy," Frigga said. "We use it in our lessons, when the pupil becomes too tired."

The eldest prince shrugged and drank it in one gulp, expecting it to have a horrid taste, but finding it was like drinking water.

With no time to lose, they went to the center of the casting circle without disturbing the priestesses and held Gungnir as they had been told.

"I don't even know where to start," Thor murmured.

"Think about casting your lightning," Loki explained, his mind racing to find the words to explain the process. He had studied it as part of his training, but never suspected that he would have to take part in it someday. "Your energy will be amplified by Gungnir. Don't fight it, but don't let it dominate you. I'll help you find the balance and redirect the power. The most important thing is that you shouldn't fight me either. A clash of wills could have fatal consequences."

"Will it hurt you?"

"No. We will be part of the same incantation. My energy will join the spell too. Ready?"

Thor nodded and closed his eyes, concentrating. Loki did the same, and felt the power building up. It wasn't theirs at first, but the spell of Freyja and the other priestesses. Then Thor mustered his powers.

The jolt of magical energy was akin to the breaking of the Allfather's seal, but this time the intensity kept growing at an alarming speed. Loki braced himself to the spear with both hands and withstood the unrelenting tide.

xxxxXX-0-X X xxxx

In his mind's eye, Loki saw Thor walking amidst a snowstorm in an iced wasteland where the sky and the ground bore the same pale grey. The magician was fighting against the storm too, trying to reach his older brother before both were swallowed by it.

Loki called his name, but the howling wind drowned his voice. He had no other choice but to press forward in search of his brother. Little by little he advanced, at times losing sight of Thor when a blast of wind and sleet would blind him. He put all his effort on not being carried away by the tempest, when he saw ahead his brother's bright red cape, billowing furiously. Around Thor wisps of magical energy coiled and danced, unaffected by the weather; soon Loki saw that the source of that power was Gungnir, standing erect and unmovable in that space, with Thor holding on to it, trying desperately to control its power.

As he approached his brother, Loki looked ahead and, among the snow and the sleet, in the undistinguishable horizon, he thought he could see a shadow looming over them, big as a mountain. It was nearly imperceptible at first, but as time passed it became more distinct, yet more ambiguous at the same time. He couldn't tell if it was the shape of an animal or a man, but a sense of dread overwhelmed him from a memory he would rather forget, and he pressed forward with far more urgency.

His brother was almost at arm's reach when Loki saw the shadow moving, as if trying to reach forward. Then a golden spark flashed in the sky and the shadow seemed to recoil.

He reached forward and clutched at Thor's arm. His brother let go of the spear for a moment and dragged him to his side until both could grab Gungnir.

"Control the storm!" Loki yelled. "It's raw power amplified by Gungnir. Control it or it will swallow us both!"

"Where is it coming from?"

"It's your own power! Don't let it dominate you! You are its source, its vessel, without you its nothing! Let it flow through you, don't fight it! Control it!"

Thor closed his eyes and seemed to concentrate. Behind him, Loki heard the wind carrying a voice with it, a distant howling full of rage and longing, and hunger. The fear returned, an uncontrollable, primordial impulse he had to fight with all his willpower.

His brother gave our a scream as the tempest raged around them. Loki closed his eyes and concentrated, trying to divert his senses to Gungnir. He felt Thor's will, powerful, indomitable, the rage of a Berserkr. Little by little he noticed the wind changing direction to form a hurricane around them. Snow gave way to clouds, and lightning crackled and jumped around them. It gained momentum until Thor opened his eyes, glowing with magic energy as the storm raged through him. The hurricane then was absorbed into Gungnir, and a blast of blue light exploded from it, blinding both brothers.

When Loki opened his eyes he saw his brother, sweat running down his brow, spent, but smiling.

They were still inside the Antechamber. The priestesses had stopped their chanting and the room was silent. The brothers looked around to see everyone standing in mute wonder at them.

"The shield is up again," said Frigga. "The Palace is safe."

"Time to regroup, then," answered Thor, smiling ferociously.

Chapter Text

A guard met them when they stepped out of the Antechamber; even when he scrupulously observed all the formalities, he irradiated a hardly suppressed sense of elation.

And it wasn't unfounded, because the news he delivered were as happy as unexpected.

The barrier now covered the entire city, having disintegrated every enemy in its expansion path. The news spread quickly all over the Palace and people were celebrating, but Thor and Loki gathered his friends and the Einherjar captains for a council or war. There were three of them, as there were three branches of the Einherjar: the Palace Guard, the best warriors, their Captain was Gulbrand the Sharp; the City Guard, tasked with patrolling the streets, led by Bjarni the Fierce; and the Forest Rangers, who patrolled the mountains and whose Captain was Vidar the Silent.

In this council of war Vidar was absent, as he had been patrolling at the time of the invasion and no one had heard of him or his men ever since; only a small number of Rangers were accounted for, since they had been off duty and at home.

While the shield was up again, the defenses would take some time to start working. The city was protected, but they couldn't launch a counter-offensive yet. However, the Vault had been safe all along, thanks to the Destroyer and the fact that its systems would be the last thing to shut down in case of emergency.

"We are surrounded by them in all fronts, but still we managed to gather some important intel, Your Highness, like the encampment thy have erected at the edge of the forest," Captain Bjarni explained as he showed the structure in the holographic map. "We tried sending spies and scouts the very first day, but no one has returned. Aside from the alliance between Jötnar and Svartálfar, we don't know much about our adversary."

The enemy circled the city by land, but over the sea small ships patrolled in the air, preventing anyone from escaping, while a gigantic mothership orbited around the disk of land, constantly blocking their sun, for the Dark Elves loathed its light. Freya had offered to don her feather cape and fly back to her world to seek help, but she had been denied by her cousins.

"I could infiltrate their camp," Loki offered. "I could disguise myself as some small animal."

"That could work," Thor mused as he pulled at his beard pensively. "Though I have my doubts."

"What about sending a messenger?" Fandral asked. "Instead of spies. Do they speak our language?"

At that moment the door opened and a soldier walked in as quietly as he could, confiding a message to Gulbrand, who nodded and dismissed him. Thor interrupted the conversation to ask the captain what was happened.

"Commander Tyr is alive and on his way to the Palace, along with the soldiers and refugees he took with him," the Sharp answered with a smile. "No life has been lost on his part."

Sif heard Volstagg, who stood at her side, let go of a ragged sigh, but the man composed himself almost instantly. His reaction wasn't lost to his friends, though, and Thor gave him permission to go see his family, something Volstagg didn't hesitate to do after excusing himself. Seeing his wife and kids would help him focus on the mission at hand and everyone knew it, for if there was one thing he loved more than food and mead, it was having his family around him.

In the end they agreed to send a diplomatic envoy to open negotiations. Thor's plan was to know their intentions and what they wanted before taking any further step.

They were in the midst of planning when Commander Tyr entered into the War Room.

Commander Tyr was Odin's right hand man and Master-at-Arms at Asgard's court, having served as weapons' instructor for the Princes. A stern instructor, his prowess and strength in battle were only behind the Allfather, never allowing anything less than perfection. He was as tall as Thor but no less intimidating, depite his quiet demeanor; his beard was long, clean and well combed, and he liked to adorn it with silver beads; his armor, though now soiled with sooth and dried blood, was always kept in pristine condition. No one knew how old he was, but it was known that he had served under King Bor at the time of the Svartálfar war.

Upon entering, the captains saluted, and the Princes stepped in to greet him.

"It's good to see you, my Princes," Tyr bowed to them before Thor caught him in a bear hug. At first he stiffened, but then he returned it willingly, patting the Prince's back.

"Where have you been keeping the citizens safe?" Loki asked.

"The catacombs under the Colosseum, my Prince," said Tyr. "They tore down the only entrance they could find, thinking they had buried us alive. Of course they didn't know of the other six. We sealed four, guarded one and the other we used for our spies to go out. Most didn't return, but those who did spoke of the alliance between Svartálfar and Jötnar, as you might know already."

Then Tyr spoke of the encampment the captains had mentioned, saying that only one scout had ventured that far and barely returned with his life, but assured that the Svartalfár seemed to be searching for something.

More soldiers came and went into the War Room while their superiors talked, delivering messages to their captains about the state of the city and the Palace.

According to the soldiers, the Dark Elves had been very keen in entering the Vault, but the Destroyer had kept them at bay most of the time. There were now piles of ashes scattered through the Vault; they were probably successful at stealing the Casket for Laufrey, but at the cost of who knew how many soldiers until one could scurry away with the artifact. Later the Dark Elves posted some guards while they could guess how they could take the Destroyer down without damaging all the treasures it guarded. Now they all lain dead, as the other Jötunn and Svartalfár the shield had caught in its path to the city's borders.

But for now they had to solve the problem of housing for the civilians that were pouring into the Palace. Fortunately enough, the able bodied surpassed in great numbers the wounded, old and infirm, and they helped clearing out the lower levels to make them suitable for temporary living spaces.

The day advanced, and more news about what had happened during the invasion kept pouring in. Despite their brutality, few buildings had been completely demolished and, while soldiers had been killed on sight, most civilians who didn't resist had been taken captive, although they hadn't been able to discover where.

As Prince Regent, and after a very long deliberation, Thor's decision was to offer a truce and parlay. Everyone noticed how torn he was about this predicament, but the consequences of his recklessness were still too recent to ignore, even by someone like him. Thus Loki wrote the message the envoy would read and it was dispatched.

A letter came back a few hours later. It was written in their language, at the back of the parchment they had used, but the letters were crudely formed, as if it was the first time the scribe used it:

"Malekith, Sovereign Supreme of Svartalfheim and its people, demands the returning of the Aether, which the Kingdom of Asgard appropriated unjustly, to their lawful owners. Should the stewards of Asgard fail to comply with our Sovereign Supreme's conditions, a number from the Asgardian subjects kept under ward by our people will be drawn and put to death each sunrise that our demands are not met."

Captain Bjarni had been the one to read it; his voice faltered at the end, when he pointed out loud that they hadn't used ink to write. The soldier who had delivered it had died not too long after crossing the shield back into Asgard. They had captured him and the few companions who were sent along, and only he had been left alive long enough to come back to his people.

Loki saw his brother's hands balling into fists until his knuckles turned white, yet when he spoke his voice was even. He sent for the guards who had been at the upper levels to be interrogated so that they gave an account of movements outside the city, ordered to be shown maps of all the forest and valleys, and ordered the computer to trace the pattern the mothership followed in their sky, trying to cover all the possible flanks.

The news came quite quickly: The guards had seen the civilians being herded into the mountains as soon as the city fell. Thor followed the direction the soldiers pointed out and they all saw the path led to nowhere. Not giving up, Thor tried activating the surveillance systems, which came to life after some tries: They could see a big concentration of life forms exactly in the direction the soldiers had pointed out, in the middle of the forest. They tried assessing the number of moving, not grouped dots when all signals blinked and went out.

"The system went out again," Thor explained, looking at his screen.

"There is an abandoned keep here," Tyr said, pointing out at where the red dots had been. "During the first days of Asgard we built much, but also tore down what we didn't use anymore. Our land is filled with old towers where only wild animals live now. But I remember that old tower. They probably chose it because it's underground chambers are vast and deep."

"Seems like this one still has its use," said Thor. "They are keeping them in the catacombs."

"There is no teleportation platform for the old towers," Hogun revealed.

"Indeed," Tyr continued. "If it dates from the first settlements I'm afraid they are cut from us. We implemented that technology much later."

"It wouldn't be fun it it was easy, right?" Thor muttered.

"We could assault the keep," Sif said, as she pointed out in the map. "Take a small group through the forest, storm the keep and resist there until you chase away the invaders."

"Chase away?" Thor asked.

"We cannot give them what we don't know what it is, can we?" Sif turned to Tyr. "Unless the Commander can enlighten us in this matter."

The Commander held her gaze for a moment, pursing his lips.

"The Aether is a terrible substance," he said slowly. "During the last War of the Elves, Malekith himself tried to use the Convergence of the Nine Realms to unleash its power, since he wanted to return the Universe to it's primal state of darkness. That I had to live to hear that name uttered again! Truly these are dark times."

All the younger Asgardians looked at him with a mixture of confusion and worry; the Commander tore at his long beard and sighed deeply.

"My loyalty and love to Bor's Clan prevents me from speaking ill about any of his decisions, but keeping the younger generations in ignorance about old enemies is always a mistake, especially when said enemies ran away from battle, as these seems to have done."

And he told them about the malice and hatred the Dark Elves harbored for the Asgardians and all the Realms which had been liberated from their rule, about the rising of a powerful sorcerer to the Throne of Svartalfheim, and how that king devised a weapon so terrible it could erase the light and establish a new tyranny of darkness that would last forever. But that weapon could only be used during the Convergence of the Nine Realms, and that moment arrived when king Bor had pushed the Svártalfar back into their home planet. Knowing himself about to be defeated, the Dark Elf king tried harnessing the power of the Aether, and he would have succeeded, hadn't king Bor used the Bifrost to snatch it from Malekith's hands, in a desperate bid to avoid a sudden and crushing turning of the tide.

Full of rage, the Dark Elf King plunged his fleet over the entire planet, killing Elf and Asgardian alike. The Accursed, he was called later by the other Realms for, in his folly, as he tried killing as many enemies as he could, he sacrificed not only his own soldiers, but his own people, and many said that among the ruins of their Capital they recovered the corpses of his wife and son.

But of Malekith nothing could be found, and from the rubble and the destruction little could be known about how many ships had actually crashed into the planet, or how many boarded them. Because no one ever knew or heard about Malekith, or saw a Dark Elf again, it was believed the entire race was extinct, and their planet Svartalfheim was left abandoned, barren and poisoned with radiation, a giant mausoleum to the former glory of a cruel and tyrannical empire.

"King Bor took away the Aether," Tyr concluded. "But no one ever knew where."

There was silence in the room. They couldn't negotiate with something they didn't have.

"The infiltration and liberation plan seems like the most reasonable course of action," Loki said at last. "Provided, of course, that Thor can stall the conversations long enough for the second group to act."

"I could do it," Thor asserted, looking at his brother. "We did this before, remember?"

"That time it wasn't a long lost enemy," Fandral reminded him. "That one was a weapons' dealer inside a tent. This one could put you in very serious difficulties."

"It will be fine," the Prince smiled, as Loki mirrored his gesture. "I grew up with one of the most gifted talkers in the Nine Realms. You learn a couple of things throughout the years."

His friends didn't say more, but their faces had grown worried.

"Is there any functioning tower near the place where the prisoners are kept?" Loki asked.

Hogun zoomed in the map and ordered the garrisons to be displayed.

"There is one near them," he said. "We won't be seen exiting the city, but we will have to be careful in the forest. Who will go where?"

"You, Loki and Fandral are best at infiltration missions," said Thor. "The captains informed me that there are several members of the Forest Rangers here, rested and ready, that can go with you. Volstagg and Sif will accompany me to meet Malekith, just in case. Tyr, you will remain here in charge. Bjarni, send someone to muster the Rangers, no more than five of them, and fill them in with the details: they have a mission tonight. Loki, Hogun and Fandral, meet with them at the teleportation room an hour before sunrise. From there you will know what to do. But first, I need a word in private with my brother."

Hogun and Fandral abandoned the room, as well as the Princes, who went to their private quarters for a while. No one questioned their absence, and thought normal that the two brothers sought counsel on each other. Though their rivalry was well known, when they acted together they were a force to be reckoned with, and all present at the War Room knew the situation to be so dire they never questioned that the Princes relied on secrecy in certain matters.

When Thor came back, he resumed the planning with Sif, his Commander and his captains, and no sooner had he arrived that Volstagg entered the room with a broad smile on his face, the first time in days that he showed his true, jovial character.

Chapter Text

Loki

Fandral and Hogun waited for him at the designated point, along with the Rangers Bjarni had handpicked for the mission. There were five of them: Rangvald, Sigurd, Erling, Fástulfr, and Hámundr, all clad in the green and brown uniform of their division. Sunrise was almost upon them, and Thor would be at that moment preparing himself with his own escort to meet the Svártalfar's envoy.

They knew the stronghold they had as destination was deserted, probably taken and abandoned as the one they visited when they came back home. Nevertheless, they advanced very cautiously through it once they were inside. Loki and his companions expected to see the scenes they encountered, but not the five rangers accompanying them. They said little, but in his eyes one could read their anger.

Once outside, they slid as quickly and as cautiously as possible through the forest. The Svartálfar mothership blocked their sun, but the sky above them grew pale, signaling the incoming sunrise. Fandral suggested Loki to use his magic again to help them be invisible.

"I haven't rested," the Prince said. "And helping my brother with the ritual has drained me."

"What about the signal, then?" Fandral whispered with a hint of consternation that made Hogun turn his head to them.

"Don't fret," Loki smiled. "I will have enough energy to create that signal when the time comes."

The prince kept advancing, leaving the others behind, who looked at each other.

"He must be in an exceptional good mood," Fandral murmured to his friend. "Each time we have questioned his magic prowess he would shoot daggers at us in the literal sense."

"He has been away from home for a long time," Hogun offered as an explanation, though he didn't sound too convinced himself.

They kept advancing through the forest and towards the tower. The wind had picked up, making the rustling of leaves the only sound around them. All the birds had gone silent, as if the whole forest was holding its breath.

And as if sensing what the travelers were thinking, a bird cried out in the distance and to their right. The rangers froze, and Rangvald sent Hámundr in that direction, stopping the others until his explorer came back.

Meanwhile, the sky had darkened above them.

"A present from my brother," Loki said, looking at the dark grey clouds covering the pale sky. "The electricity will throw their instruments off for a while."

Hámundr came back after a few minutes.

"Our companions," he said excitedly. "They have seen us coming out of the tower and are waiting for us right now. Come, make haste!"

A numerous group of warriors waited for them in a small clearing, twenty of them at least, and one of them, the tallest and strongest-looking, walked up to the newcomers.

The Captain of the Rangers smiled at them, his grey eyes so pale they almost glowed in the forest's dim light, wisps of his platinum hair framed his pale and angular face under the dark green hood, mixing with his neatly trimmed beard of the same color.

"It's good to see Your Highness and my lords safe and sound," he bowed, along with his warriors.

Vidar "the Silent" was a man of few words, more inclined to seek the solitude of the forests than the bustling city. His physique was as impressive as Thor's and he was a fearsome warrior in open field and close quarters, though he preferred subtlety and silence to be his weapons. Far from what people would assume, his monicker didn't refer to his taciturn nature, but to his ability to move so silently, even the most keen-eared enemy couldn't detect him.

Loki immediately asked him for news of the forest, and Vidar revealed, to Loki and his companions' relief that, when the invasion started, Heimdall had been found ashore, badly wounded, the following day. He was still recovering from his injuries at one of the Ranger's hidden outposts, with Huginn and Muninn watching over his sleep. He also told them about how they had seen the invaders bringing prisoners into the nearby garrison,

"We saw the reactivation of the Shield and the brewing storm as signs of Thor returning. Little we knew we would be blessed with both Princes," Vidar said. "Our scouts have informed us that the number of guards has diminished once they have to divert units towards the front, and we were on our way to free the prisoners."

"And not a moment too soon," said Loki. "The Dark Elves threatened with executing a number of our citizens each day that their demands aren't met."

"Dark Elves?" Vidar echoed.

"Indeed," Fandral stepped forward. "And you thought patrolling the forests would be a quiet task."

Vidar chuckled at the joke, despite the severity of the situation.

"Let's see if their legends can hold up to our weapons, then," he said, still smiling, but with a savage glint in his grey eyes.

Then Loki ordered the five Rangers who had come with them to return under Vidar's command, and the planning of the assault began. The Rangers had already scouted the area and knew not only the exact number of guards, but also their shifts. They would take them one by one as discreetly as possible before the ones inside could notice anything, then cause a commotion and make them step out.

"That won't be necessary," Hogun predicted. "Their armors are hardy and with little openings. As keen-eyed as your men are, you won't fell them all before the ones inside notice what is happening. As soon as we attack, everyone at the tower will know."

"It's not the first time we have face a difficult enemy," Vidar said after a moment of silence. "We will switch the strategy to a more aggressive one. Thank you, my lord, for that piece of intelligence."

He bowed, briefly but courteously, and went to talk to his men. It wouldn't be any different from other assault mission, only this time the stakes were much higher.

Once the preparations were complete, Vidar took the lead, with Loki, Hogun and Fandral right behind him.

The trees in that area grew more densely, which helped them, but also didn't let them see the top of the tower as they approached. Quickly and without any sign or order, four rangers climbed the trees, quick as squirrels, without so much as disturbing the branches, and all Rangers kept advancing from there, while fanning out as they slowly surrounded the tower.

At one point the three companions heard the whistle of an arrow flying, but they kept creeping their way forward since there was no sign of combat. As they advanced, they saw the fallen body of a Dark Elf with an arrow protruding from the small wedge between the plate and the face mask. There were more arrows fired, from the left and from the right, and they guessed more scouts had been dealt with.

The already dim light of the sky deepened even more as the wind grew stronger. The trees murmured softly over them, making all the Asgardians thank whatever luck they might have that day, for the wind would help disguise any sound they would make as they advanced.

Once they reached the edge of the clearing, Loki, Hogun and Fandral remained behind and observed. From their post they could see that the stronghold didn't have a wall around it; it had served as a simple outpost and not as a defensive point. Now the old tower stood alone in the forest, abandoned and crumbling, with the top half missing large parts of its walls. However, it only had one entry point: a wooden door now guarded by two soldiers and, according to the life signal readings, the underground seemed quite spacious.

Now that they could see the sky, the clouds had completely covered it, and the air smelled of a coming storm.

At Vidar's sign, Loki, Hogun and Fandral approached him and hid behind the bushes. They could see the elves patrolling the area, aside from the ones guarding the door. A bird cried in the distance, breaking the silence of the forest, and the Prince and his companions knew it was one of the Rangers. Vidar put his fingers on his mouth to whistle back, and the arrows flew.

Three elves fell right away, one of them from the pair that guarded the door. The surviving ones were either injured or the arrows had hit their hard armors and bounced back.

The Sváltarfar turned their weapons towards the forest and shoot, but the arrows kept coming from the ground and from above. Two more fell before Vidar gave the order and the Rangers jumped from the forest to attack the elves while their companions kept shooting. The attack was so sudden the Svártalfar tried to retaliate, but they were swarmed by the Asgardians. Loki, Vidar, Hogun and Fandral ran as fast as they could towards the door. The guard fired at Loki once, but he dodged the energy beam before Vidar shoot an arrow that hit the elf in the hip; the soldier staggered and dropped his weapon when he went to grab at the arrow protruding from his body. When he tried to react, Loki was already upon him. The Prince grabbed the elf's head and slammed it against his knee, shattering the mask in two. The elf dropped to the ground as the door opened and more soldiers joined the battle.

"The legs! Aim for the legs!" Vidar shouted.

Fandral dodged a shot from one of the elves and threw a dagger at him, which lodged itself on the inner side of his left thigh. The elf fell to the ground, screaming in agony, but it was short-lived, as one Ranger was already upon him to slash his throat with his sword.

He searched for Loki in the battlefield and found him at the door, wrestling an elf off his heavy gun. For a split second, Fandral thought Loki had been wounded, for his cape seemed to sport a crimson stain. But it was only a mirage, because when he looked a second time it was of a spotless dark green.

The Svartálfar weapons had hit several trees, making them catch fire. Fandral looked around when he noticed the flames spreading around the tower, faster than he would have liked.

Hogun ran past him, skidding as he slammed his mace against another elf's legs, shattering a knee and making him slam heavily on the ground.

"Fandral, Hogun!" Loki bellowed from the door. He had an elven gun in his hands.

"The forest is burning!" Fandral screamed.

As if the clouds had been listening to him, it began to rain. The sudden and heavy downpour caught the elves by surprise, but not the rangers, more used to fight in their terrain. Soon the Dark Elves were overwhelmed when they had to fight the Asgardians and the muddy terrain.

Fandral and Hogun hurried after Loki, but not before the swashbuckler threw one last glance over this shoulder: The fires hissed as the heavy rain put them out, creating a wall of smoke around the tower.

He ran after Hogun and down the stairs to the basement. The hearts of the three warriors skipped a beat when they heard screams from down bellow.

An elf cut their way on the narrow corridor, shooting, but the Asgardians dodged and Loki shot at the elf, who fell back with a hole in his torso. There were four other guards in the small chamber ahead; one shot at them, but Loki, instead of using the elven weapon a second time, threw it against him, knocking him back for a second, enough time for the Prince to be upon him, grab the elf by the throat and punch him hard on his side. Though momentarily breathless, the elf tried wrestling Loki away, but to no avail, because, with his free hand, the Prince had grabbed him by a leg and, lifting him over his head, he threw him against one of his elven companions.

Hogun and Fandral were taken aback by those fight movements, but the three remaining elves had unsheathed their swords and were almost upon them. The scuffle was brief, and ended with the Asgardians covered in bruises and elven blood. Loki stood in the middle of the room, motionless, and soon his friends caught on the eerie silence that had fallen in the catacomb.

The Prince darted ahead, with the other two not far behind, but only Hogun had the presence of mind to light his own lightstone. There was a hallway ahead which opened to several storage rooms, all empty, and at the end there was a door, closed and bolted. Loki tried kicking it in, but it wouldn't budge. A second attempt with the three of them, and the door exploded inwards in splinters.

They heard several screams when the door broke, and much whimpering.

The chamber beyond the door looked more like a natural cavern, rather than a chamber built by their ancestors. It was spacious, and Hogun's lightstone could barely illuminate the walls, along which people huddled: small children and the elderly, all sitting down on the ground. The elder citizens had formed a barrier to protect the younger ones, and they were the ones looking at the door in silence while the youngest kids whimpered, until someone recognized the three warriors.

"It's Prince Loki!" a young voice yelled.

The sobbing ceased abruptly, replaced by a murmur of joy which spread through the chamber. Hogun and Fandral were quick to instruct them to not move yet.

Loki seemed to remember his lightstone at that moment and used it. Several older people got up and bowed to him. Loki explained to them that, while it was a rescuing mission, it was still dangerous to go outside, and that they would have to wait a bit more until they could be brought to Asgard.

A Ranger rushed in the chamber, informing them that all the elves were dead and the tower had been secured.

"It's time, then," Loki told his companions, after he had dismissed the Ranger. "I will go now to the top of the tower to signal my brother. You stay here with the people."

They nodded and wished him good luck; the Prince retraced his steps to the ground level to climb the tower, which wasn't an easy task. The missing parts they had noticed earlier affected the stairs and large parts of the upper floors; they wouldn't have been a problem, but the heavy rain made the stone dangerously slippery.

Down below, as his men gathered all the weapons from the elves, Vidar saw through the gaps on the wall how the Prince slowly made his way to the top. A thunder boomed above them, making the Captain and his men take refuge inside the tower. He then made himself busy arranging the defense of their position.

An explosion shook the tower. Quick of thought, Vidar arranged a defense and hurried his men to take positions with the elven guns, and they waited, looking at the grey sky.

Silence.

Rangvald, who had climbed to the upper levels of the tower, came down, his face pale.

"Captain, sir!" he exclaimed. "Sir, the Prince! He has disappeared! The stones atop the tower are burnt and there is no trace of his Highness!"

xxxxXX-0-X X xxxx

Sif

The morning air felt too still for her taste.

Sif adjusted herself on her saddle, unable to stop fidgeting. A weight had settled in her stomach since Thor had decided to parlay with the enemy. Someone who made prisoners only to slaughter them was bound to be unnecessarily cruel and unpredictable. She feared treason and a surprise attack.

The barrier was just ahead and, beyond it, everything that was outside the city. The Svartálfar had lain waste to the fields and the crops, but hadn't touched the forest. Odd. One would think they would burn everything down so the Asgardians wouldn't have a single piece of wood to reconstruct. But if they planned to exterminate the Asgardians, they might want to use the forest for their own amusement once Asgard was empty.

But...

Why it was so cloudy over the forest all of a sudden?

A voice pulled her out from her daydreaming.

"Sif?"

Thor smiled at her from his own saddle, as they slowly made their way towards the barrier's border. At the other side Volstagg rode in silence, his green eyes scanning the destroyed buildings, and under his beard, the muscles of his jaw clenched in silent fury.

Sif smiled back at Thor, trying that it didn't look forced. He looked the very image of the Crown Prince, even more than the day of his failed proclamation, because now he also wielded Gungnir, as a sign of his authority in Odin's absence. Many times his smile would bring a sense of reassurance over her, but not that day.

"How can you remain so calm?" she asked.

"Everything will go according to plan," Thor assured her. "Don't you trust me?"

"It's the Svartálfar who worries me."

"I trust they are untrustworthy," Thor said. "Hold on to your shield and everything will be fine."

She held her breath when they crossed the barrier into open air.

No one attacked them.

They slowly advanced through the wasteland. What had been golden fields in summer and a green and luscious valley was now a charred desert. The Einherjar behind them murmured a few words, which reminded Sif that some of them had homes outside the main city. She looked left and right, where she could see destroyed buildings where farms had stood a fortnight before.

The enemy encampment was ahead; they could see in the distance the Dark Elves waiting for them. As they approached, they could see their leader, taller and burlier than the rest, his face bare. The wind had picked up, carrying with it the scent of rain; it made the scene even more desolate as they dismounted and walked a few steps until they were at a suitable distance.

Sif and Volstagg glanced at each other when they saw, among the elven guards, two creatures like the one Thor killed in Asgard when he retrieved the Tesseract.

"Are you the new king?" the Dark Elf sneered, looking at Gungnir, his elegant facial features twisting subtly in a gesture of contempt.

"It depends on who is asking," Thor teased, not missing a beat and hiding his surprise at the elf being able to understand him. "Is it Malekith the one before me, an illusion, or a subordinate?"

"My name," the Svartálfr said slowly, his ice-blue eyes regarding the Prince carefully. "Is Algrim. I am lieutenant to our Sovereign Malekith and his envoy. I have full power to negotiate with you," when he said that, his mouth curved ever so slightly, which made Sif grip her shield even tighter.

"Why can't Malekith step down from his ship and fight his own battles?" Thor glanced at the mothership blocking the sunrise.

"It is not our custom to have royalty haggling with the lesser races," Algrim retorted, not tearing his cold stare from Thor.

Thor smiled.

"You only have one mothership," he said, gazing at the Dark Elf again. "With all the soldiers it can host. You needed the help of the Jötnar and still you couldn't subdue Asgard. Now the Jötnar have either died when the shield was expanded, or already know your alliance is not as profitable as they thought, and they are probably trying to return to their world. What did you promise Laufey for him to bend his knee to your king?"

"We had a common enemy," Algrim said. "And common interests. They do not mind darkness and we do not mind having them in their frozen world."

"And you have new allies, I see," Thor commented, pointing with his head at the two half-machine creatures. "Marauders from outside Yggdrasil?"

"They are of no concern to you," the elf said tersely. "Where is the Aether?"

Sif smiled, despite herself: Back in Midgard the half machine creature had the Svartálfar under his command, whereas the Jötun here were under Svartálfar command. The chain of command was clear now. Those creatures weren't there to serve, but to supervise.

"Where is Laufey, by the way? I expected him to be with you at least, given that he's your subordinate now."

For a fraction of a second, the Elf's face darkened, but he quickly recovered. Sif didn't look at Volstagg that time, realizing that the Elves didn't know where Laufey had gone. They knew he had taken the Casket of Ancient Winters and absconded with it, but not where . For all the Svartálfar knew, Laufey could be in Jotunheim with his price. She wondered what would they think if they learned that their ally was dead.

Sif's attention diverted to the sky behind the elves: The mass of clouds was thicker, discharging heavy rain over the forest below, while lightning could be seen flashing inside them. She wanted to know what was happening at the forest, but she had to force herself to pay attention to the conversation taking place in front of her.

"Are you mocking us?" the elf hissed. Sif hadn't been listening for the last minute; she wondered what had Thor said to anger the Elf.

"Mocking? Far from it! I am being very soft with you. You invade our land, kill and kidnap our people, destroy our dwellings, threaten the Nine Realms that we sworn to protect while you demand from us something we cannot give you. For this our laws would demand that you all would be put to death."

The elven guards readied their weapons, while the half machine creatures did nothing. Sif clenched her teeth, feeling how the guards behind her tensed.

"But we are lenient," Thor continued, unflinching. "Your world, Svartalfheim, has been kept untouched for these five thousand years. You can go back there and rebuild it, resurrect your civilization and live there in peace without the light bothering you."

Sif saw how the envoy's face darkened, and this time he didn't bother hiding it.

"We will not suffer the children of light," he growled after a long while, speaking slowly, as if he was fighting to rein in his wrath. "Why must we scrape in a wasteland while the other realms thrive? The light is an abomination that must be purged. Your universe was a mistake."

"We have a right to know at least what will become of the other realms."

"The Realms ?" Algrim smiled. It was a gesture devoid of any mirth, filled with cruelty and anticipation. "When we snub every star in this system, all the weak creatures will wither and die, to give way to true life, as was before this madness, as it should be until the end of time. But we are lenient: you can board all your people in ships to search for another system to inhabit, and you will have our word that you will be allowed to go undisturbed."

Thor fell silent. The wind intensified; now the sound of distant thunder reached them from the forest.

"We would like to negotiate," said Thor. "But, you see, what you are looking for is not here. My grandfather took it from you, that is true, but he told no one of its whereabouts. We could have found out, however, where the Bifrost brought it, but all the data from all the travels was stored at the Observatory, and someone destroyed it a few days ago. You are free to search for the computer parts currently floating through the Astral Sea, then you will have to assemble them and guess the password, if and when you get it running. That last part will be a tad difficult, because the password changed every few weeks and apparently you killed the one in charge of it when you blew up the Bifrost."

Algrim sneered.

"Even if we knew where your precious Aether was, do you think we would handle it to you so easily?" now the Prince Regent grew serious. "We already cornered you into your world when you were at the peak of your power, do you think we can't repeat that feat? Unless," he pointed with his face at the half machine creatures. "Someone promised you an army."

Thor lifted Gungnir and struck the ground with it. A deep boom reverberated through the valley as a beam of golden light shoot upwards from the spear.

Quick as a viper, Algrim unsheathed his sword and swung at Thor, who blocked it with Gungnir. As she gripped at her shield, taking cover from the elven guards' shots, Sif saw in the distance a bolt of lightning falling in the forest.

Chapter Text

Sif heard Volstagg shouting orders as she charged ahead, the Palace guards running close to her. An Elf engaged her in combat, trying to wrestle her shield off. She bashed his face, making him recoil, then slashed at his throat. Forming a circle around them, Svartálfar ships dropped their camouflage and started shooting. Just in time, Asgardian skiffs joined the fight and interrupted the aerial attack.

Despite the confusion, Sif saw something coming from the forest. Something flying at a high speed. She turned to yell a warning at Thor, but her cry died in her throat.

Loki was there, wielding Gungnir as he fought a bewildered Algrim. Before she could react, the flying object landed next to the Prince and the Dark Elf, causing a shockwave that launched everyone, Sif included, several meters away. When she scrambled to her feet, she saw Thor, wielding Mjolnir, going for a still prone Algrim. He grabbed the Dark Elf by the throat and lifted him, Mjolnir crackling with electric energy. The clouds now covered them, attracted by Thor's power, dragging the rain to where they stood.

Thor put his hammer to Algrim's throat and moved his mouth, but Sif couldn't understand what was being said. The elf's left hand was so swift she only registered the movement when she saw Thor doubling up in pain. She screamed, rushing towards him, but two elves ambushed her and she had to invest all her senses in that fight, lest she would be overwhelmed.

xxxxXX-0-X X xxxx

Thor's scream echoed in the battlefield over the sound of clashing swords and exploding beams of energy. As he doubled down in pain, Algrim used the movement to slip away from his grasp. Thor swung Mjolnir, but the Elf dodged with ease as he prepared his own sword for the opening the Asgardian had left.

However, his blade struck Gungnir when Loki blocked his attack; the younger Prince swung back with such strength Algrim had to regain his footing lest he would fall backwards. Before he could recover, Loki used his previous swing's momentum and had the spear's blade pointing at the Elf's throat.

"Conniving worms!" the Elf grunted, his face contorted in an angry snarl.

His hand moved, quick as a snake, but Loki was faster and dodged the flying dart just in time. It was meant for his eye but only scratched his right cheek. As Gungnir's blade was far from his face, Algrim rushed forward, his sword lifted, now that Loki had left his side unguarded.

The younger prince spun on his feet and hit Algrim in the elbow with the blunt end of Gungnir. The Elf screamed as his blade fell to the muddy ground.

Thor had recovered, yanking the dart lodged in his side and trowing it away, his blood washing away almost immediately in the pouring rain. Now the Elf was disarmed! He charged, bringing his hammer down, but Algrim dodged again, rolling on the ground to where his sword lain, grabbing it and getting on his feet in one smooth movement.

The three warriors stood at a standstill while chaos ensued around them. Algrim hadn't lost his conceit but, at that moment, drenched and covered in mud, Loki could see there was something else mixed with his expression: a hatred that went beyond any rational thought, an emotion that was primal and raw.

The eldest Prince was the first one to attack. Algrim dodged Mjolnir with ease, squatting and then rushing forwards, slashing at the Prince's side, exactly the place where the first dart had hit. Thor bellowed, more out of rage than out of pain, and swung Mjolnir back. Algrim ducked, but as he did, he didn't see Gungnir's point going for his torso. He grabbed at the spear just in time. It found the small opening below the chestplate and pierced the flesh, but didn't reach any organ. The force of the thrust sent him some steps backwards, his hand on his chest.

Thor readied Mjolnir, lifting it upwards. A bolt fell from the sky, taking a Svartálfr ship on its path, and fell on the hammer and Thor. Sparkling with electric energy, Thor charged towards Algrim, swinging his hammer and bringing it down.

The electric explosion caused a shock wave which displaced the rain falling above them.

Mjolnir held suspended for a few seconds in the air, its target untouched.

Thor looked a the hand raised before him and the force field it had conjured. Behind that hand stood a Dark Elf, as tall as Algrim, leaner than him, but much more imposing. Grey eyes stared down on Thor full of loathing, the only readable emotion in an otherwise inexpressive and finely chiseled face, which would have been beautiful, but the left side's flesh was darkened, as if burnt by a fire and reconstructed by magical means. Unlike the other Elves, his bright, white hair was loose, cascading past the shoulders in thick locks.

The force field had thrown Loki backwards, but Thor didn't dare to look back to see how his brother fared.

The mysterious Elf, with a flicker of his wrist, pushed Thor and threw him on his back. The Prince scrambled to his feet and looked at his new adversary. His attire was different to the other Svartálfar's: instead of ivory, the accents were crimson, with the upper part of his armor transitioning at the waist to a flowing coat that reached his calves, as if it was a tunic. A long, black cloak was draped around his shoulders, pined upon his left side with a brooch of dark metal, shaped like an eight pointed star.

When he spoke, his voice was deep and booming, as if coming from the depths of his own world.

"You begged for an audience," he said. "And here I am. Where is the Aether?"

"Malekith, I supposed?" asked Loki. Despite the energy blasting, the Prince walked nonchalantly until he stood beside his brother.

"The royal line has been improving, I see," Malekith observed in a scathing tone. "Your subjects told tall tales about the Princes of Asgard, pity that such princes can't live up to their own story."

"We are devastated that the Sovereign of Svartalfheim doesn't find our hospitality to his liking, and had to come down from his flying fortress to express his dissatisfaction," Loki said.

Thor threw his brother a glance. That was no moment to jest! His eyes, however, paused for a moment on the hand that wielded Gungnir: the muscles tensed in a rhythmical manner. Loki only used that signal when they faced someone with potent magic powers.

"We already told your lackey," Thor continued, catching on to what Loki intended. "We don't have the Aether, we don't know where it is, and even if we knew, we wouldn't tell you. You are free to go search for it yourself."

Malekith held Thor's eyes for a long moment, impervious to the rain soaking his clothes and his long, white hair. But when he spoke, he gazed towards Loki or, more precisely, towards Gungnir.

"When I woke up from my slumber and saw a new universe of light, my heart hungered for revenge. I had expected Bor's race to have become stronger, so that my victory was all the sweeter. But seeing what has become of Asgard, I curse Bor now. He took the universe from us, he pushed us to near extinction, for what? A decadent, weak kingdom and a royal house in decline is what remains of his ambition. This only proves that we were right: the light only begets weakness and degeneracy, and must be purged."

Several things happened at the same time. Malekith raised his hands towards Loki, who conjured a shield to protect himself. Thor spun Mjolnir to gain momentum and launched it at the Dark Elf, but at the last moment Algrim, who had slowly sidestepped away from them as they spoke, tackled Thor, sending the two of them tumbling several paces away.

Loki's shield couldn't withstand the blast of energy from Malekith, which pierced it and hit the Prince on the chest. Loki nearly fell to his knees, clutching Gungnir with both hands and gasping for air.

"You poor child," the Dark Elf sneered, slowly stepping closer to him, energy gathering in his hands. "You thought you could wield that spear and measure up to me. What use is an universe where you never get challenged and you grow weaker by the day?"

Loki said nothing, too busy trying to keep his concentration. An image flashed in his mind: a gigantic, shapeless shadow pounding at a barrier around him. Something had happened when he recovered his powers in Midgard, and now each time he tried using his most powerful incantations, he felt as if that barrier grew weaker and that creature was closer.

He swung Gungnir at the last moment, when the Dark Elf was close enough, a spark of golden light flashing when the blade met Malekith's spell and blocked it, but barely. The Dark Elf slowly advanced as Loki kept defending with the spear, but each time a blow seemed about to land, Malekith deflected it without effort. Dread grew inside him as he noticed how the Elf's thin lips slowly curved upwards, as if he found a perverse pleasure in playing with his prey.

Loki tried to distract him with his duplicates, but Malekith ignored them and rushed towards him at a speed the Prince couldn't anticipate.

The pain was as sudden as it was burning. Time seemed to stop for a moment. All he could see was Malekith's face, the half-mended, though otherwise beautiful features, contorted in a cruel smile which broadened when he pushed the small blade further in.

Then the Dark Elf yanked the dagger away from Loki's left side. The Prince's vision swam as he felt the burning sensation spreading inside him. He tried using Gungnir as a baton, but his legs buckled under him.

Far from delivering the coup the grace, Malekith kept watching him with sadistic pleasure, the small blade still in his hand, the rain washing away Loki's blood.

Croaking of ravens. Two black shadows swooping down on Malekith. A booming sound nearby, like the one Thor did when landing.

Sight going blurry, sound growing dim.

Two hands wrestling Gungnir from his grasp. Silver hair, silver beard. One eye.

His chest hurt, the ringing in his ears was deafening.

Cold, muddy earth against his right side. His left side numbing and burning at the same time.

Gold and crimson shadows fighting before him. Another shadow, silver and red, joined in. Lightning. Blue and gold energy against red one.

A white gold burst. The red shadow disappeared and with it all the white and black ones.

Flash of a golden mane. Strong hands grabbing him and shaking his body. A voice, powerful and deep, screaming his name from far, far away.

Vertigo. Vertigo.

Darkness.

Silence.

Chapter Text

The first thing he noticed was a dull, pounding headache. He fought to open his eyelids and winced at the too bright light above him. A soft hand caressed his brow and his cheek.

"Easy now," Freyja's soft voice felt like a balm. "You must rest."

He tried to speak, but he could barely articulate a word.

"The poison was very potent," his cousin explained. "It nearly killed you, but Thor brought you here just in time. You have been sleeping for many days."

Loki turned his head towards the voice. Something pressed around his throat, heavy and metallic. He tried moving his arms, but the same feeling weighted his hands down. A whimper escaped his lips as he panicked, but Freyja's hand was again on his brow.

"Sleep, dear cousin. Sleep."

xxxxXX-0-XXxxxx

During his brother's convalescence, Thor had been working tirelessly at Odin's side to repair the damage the Svartálfar had caused. The row they had before the Allfather fell into the Odinsleep still echoed in the Prince's mind, but his father seemed not to care, nor he wanted to mention anything about Loki. It was one afternoon, while Odin surveyed the city from one of the Palace's balconies, that Thor dared to broach the subject.

"All as been said," Odin stated, Huginn sitting in his arm, Muninn walking along the railing. "And all has been saved."

"That's to be seen."

The Allfather scratched Huginn in the neck.

"Hadn't it been for your intervention, Loki would still be in Midgard, and we could have defended our home, regardless. I only needed time to rest."

"Malekith would have destroyed us all," Thor said.

"Nonsense."

"King Laufey followed us to Midgard and-"

"I know what happened there," his father interrupted him. "I have been sleeping, but not idling."

Huginn cawed.

"I have eyes and ears wherever I need them," Odin continued. "No matter how much your mother and yourself might try to soften what Loki tried to do, I know the truth."

"You don't know all there is to know."

The Allfather was silent for a moment, as if weighting his words.

"He planned to take over Midgard and govern it for however long he had to live as one of them, knowing full well what a tyrant must do attain power, to preserve it, and what happens when he's no longer alive. This is the truth that I know, and the truth is what the Law cares about."

"Loki fought bravely," Thor insisted. "He killed Laufey when he went on a rampage on Midgard, he helped me master the Odinforce and have Gungnir accept me, and he was almost killed by Malekith. Does none of that mitigate whatever he might have done in the past?"

Odin turned his face to look at him, but Thor didn't regret his passionate defense of his brother. The Allfather's blue eye gazed at him, as if it could read his soul. Then he whispered something to his ravens and the birds took off towards the evening sky.

"You inherited your mother's kindness," he said, looking at his ravens flying away. "That always made you an easy prey for his manipulation."

"This is not manipulation," he insisted. "If you are all-seeing, you will also know that he didn't want to come back, that breaking the seal wasn't his intention but the result of an act of bravery. Twice he has risked his life for others, won't that count? Doesn't he deserve something better than manacles and sealing runes?"

The Allfather didn't answer. Thor was about to turn away and leave when the King finally spoke.

"When you sit on that throne," he said softly. "You will have to carry an enormous weight on your shoulders. Nine Realms, together with their political intrigues, and all the menaces coming from outside Yggdrasil. The death of Laufey is a great loss, especially for his own people."

Thor couldn't argue against that; bereft of any leadership, the Jötnar Vidar's men captured in the forest acted like mere outlaws, seeming more keen to die than to surrender. Thor had to convince them that their king was dead, but that they would be offered safe passage to their realm if they promised to never ally themselves with the enemies of Asgard. They were finally returned to their home planet, their fate as species uncertain.

"Jotunheim faces a civil war," Odin elaborated. "Laufey kept all the warlords at bay with an iron hand. Now the Jötnar will split again in tribal factions and they will massacre each other, condemning their race to a slow and painful process of extinction. Balance had been achieved, but now it's lost," he turned to his son. "While commendable when displayed by a lowborn, a soft heart won't let you see the implications of your actions, and the threats that might arise, especially from within. Your brother's actions in Midgard speak of an endless thirst for power that, sadly, I'm no stranger to. I don't have the strength to seal his powers anymore, and I fear he can become Asgard's undoing if left unchecked."

"Loki's not-"

"I have spoken," Odin said, raising his hand.

Thor pursed his lips in frustration, but obeyed his king and went away.

xxxxXX-0-XXxxxx

His heavy footsteps echoed through the Palace's halls. Servants and guards crossed paths with him; all bowed as he walked by and he made sure to acknowledge each gesture.

After the initial chaos, the whole kingdom had entered into a different dynamic as its inhabitants tried to reconstruct and regroup. Those who could, had taken in their family members who had been left without a home, and food had been rationed for the time being. No one complained; there was a silent fury boiling among the populace, a hurt pride that would be difficult to heal except with swift retribution.

Word had come from the other Realms, and things looked grim: Following the attack from the Svartálfar, the other worlds had imposed martial law and were on high alert. Even Surtur from Muspellheim, instead of taking advantage, had imposed the same planetary lockdown as his neighbors.

Only Midgard seemed blissfully unaware of what had happened. For the time being.

"Thor?"

He looked up. Sif waited for him a few paces ahead.

"You look distracted today," she smiled at him, despite the signs of tiredness in her own face.

He joked back at her, as usual, although it was more out of habit than actual feeling. Lately everything had lost its shine to him.

"Back from the infirmary?" she asked, walking alongside him.

Thor nodded. Loki was receiving the best medical attention, and he seemed to be improving, despite nearly dying, as Thor said.

Sif didn't answer to that at first. When she spoke, it sounded like the start of an apology.

"I know you never liked him much," Thor interrupted her. "So I thank you for asking about him."

"I never trusted him," she said, pursing her lips.

"You are still angry at him for that business with your hair," Thor pointed out, keeping his voice even when he saw her cheeks reddening. "But he solved it right after that. He made a spell that made your hair grow instantly."

"That's not enough compensation," she snapped, but caught herself.

"I remember your mane growing until it reached your calves," Thor continued. "And now it's thicker and shinier than before. It suits you."

Sif blushed deeper; she quickly changed the subject.

They spoke about the new shipments of material from Nidavellir, and how Asgard lacked a proper fleet to travel between worlds.

"We should have developed more warships," she commented. "Cargo and passenger ships are good as they are, but we need weapons out there."

"Any word from the Svartálfar?"

"None. They have vanished," she sighed. "And I don't know which one I prefer. I feared they would go on a rampage through all Yggdrasil, but not knowing their whereabouts is worse."

They were now near the training grounds, where Sif was supposed to have been. She had wandered away on a break when she bumped into Thor, she explained before parting ways, but before she did, she told Thor this:

"I hated him," she confessed. "I hate his deceitful ways. He wouldn't stop mocking me when we were children, finding every hurtful thing to say to me until I would beat him into silence. As we grew up it worsened, and at times I feared for you, who never saw anything bad in anyone."

"Do you think he was manipulating me?" he asked.

Sif looked away, not because she wanted to avoid Thor's gaze, but more like she was thinking how to answer.

"Each time he did it in the past he would throw you to the wolves," she finally said. "But not this time," she turned to him, a wry smile in her face. "You didn't ride with me that morning. Am I wrong?"

Thor opened his mouth to excuse himself, but he stammered, which made her laugh.

"You two fooled us with that weapons dealer," she said. "But you have never been one for such level of improvisation."

"Do the others know?"

She shook her head.

"The trick was useful, I have to admit," she sighed. "I knew for certain it wasn't you the moment I hear you talking back at the Elves instead of punching them."

Thor chuckled, despite himself.

"You always see the best in everyone," she continued. "I only judge what I see for myself, and I saw your brother standing at your side and nearly dying for it. Twice. One single deed doesn't clean a life full of duplicity but..." she paused. "I hope I explained myself."

"You did," he smiled at her. "Thank you."

xxxxXX-0-XXxxxx

Her mother's chambers smelled of Vanaheim lilies, her favorites.

A maid was doing the Queen's hair, braiding the golden tresses in an intricate pattern. Frigga sat with her eyes closed, waiting patiently. In the morning light, Thor could see the signs of tiredness in her mother's face.

The strain was taking a toll on her, yet she couldn't say a word to anyone. The kingdom needed its King, but they also needed its Queen. She had been working without pause to ease her subjects' needs, but at the same time she had a son fighting for his life, and her family threatened to tear at the seams. Yet none of her subjects could see her falter or stumble.

She finally opened her eyes and saw him through the mirror. She smiled sweetly, as she always did, but waited for her maid to finish her task, then she gave her permission to go away.

Once they were alone, Thor tried to speak, but her mother got up and put a finger on her lips. She then tiptoed towards the curtains and thrust her arm outside. There was a squeak and a rustle of feathers, and her mother brought inside a very perplexed and a very scared raven.

"Did your master send you?" she asked in a low voice to the bird she was holding by the neck. The bird in question had abandoned all attempt to escape, seemingly realizing the Queen's iron grip was too powerful for him to break. "If I ever see you or your brother near my windows ever again I'll have both of you roasted and served to the King, have I made myself clear?"

The raven emitted a weak, whimpering sound that Frigga considered as a valid answer, and she brought the bird to the window, releasing it.

"I'm sorry, my dear," she excused herself to her son. "Lack of sleep is starting to affect me."

He didn't speak, instead he came closer and embraced her. She seemed surprised for an instant, but after a heartbeat she threw her arms around her son.

Then she wept.

Thor caressed her golden hair. He had never been too good with words, but he knew his mother felt she still had to be a bulwark for her subjects, despite what would happen to her, and he could only guess how lonely she must have felt during those few days she had to keep the shield standing.

"I'm sorry I left you alone, Mother," he said softly.

She stepped back, wiping her tears away.

"You did what you had to do," she answered, smiling again despite her teary eyes. "You saved Asgard. All is well."

He took her hand and shook his head. She looked at him for a moment, before sitting down again at her dressing table.

"When your father brought Loki from Jotunheim," she started with a sad smile. "I felt horrified, for I thought the baby was intended to be a hostage, a way to ensure Laufey would never attack Midgard again. But your father told me they had left him to die, and that we could raise him as our own, to them put him in Jotunheim's throne and make that Realm an ally. I wasn't sure at first, but then your brother looked at me and smiled, the same way you did at that age. I didn't think it could be possible, but I loved him as much as I loved you. I never cared about your father's political intrigues and, as time went by and you two grew up, I thought he had forgotten about it. You took so much after Odin: you were the strong one, and the brave, and the one the other children followed. I saw how Loki trailed behind you at first but couldn't follow your steps, no matter how hard he tried. Thus I taught him magic, so he didn't think less of himself. And I prayed that he would never have to bear the burden of a kingdom far from Asgard."

Tears rolled down her cheeks while she spoke, her green eyes lost in the distance.

"But then he did what he always did. He wanted to prank you, nothing more. Then your father intervened and..." she covered her eyes with a trembling hand for a moment, to compose herself. "I have spent all these days wondering how it has come to this."

Thor had come to her chambers to ask a question, but now he didn't have the heart to drive a bigger wedge between his parents. She felt torn and she didn't need more suffering.

"Mother," he squeezed her hand, which he hadn't let go of yet. "I know times are grim, but you know our saying: The sun will shine on us again ."

She chuckled, more to humor him than out of actual optimism.

"Last night I visited Loki," Thor continued. "His fever has gone down. They say it's a good sign."

Frigga nodded and sighed.

"You must forgive your mother," she said, standing up. "I'm afraid I might not be as strong as I pretend."

He kissed her hand.

"You are the strongest person I know."

"What about your father?" she asked with a playful smile.

Thor shook his head.

"It's you. After all, you were the one who had to deal with the two of us growing up."

Her mother laughed briefly. She looked up at him, her strength returned, and kissed his son on the cheek.

"What would I do without any of you?"

"Not losing so much sleep."

Chapter Text

His body seemed to weigh twice as normal, but at least the pain was gone. His eyes opened slowly and without effort, though the white light made him wince. He heard a gasp near him and a hand on his forehead.

"Loki?" his mother's voice called him.

He grunted, his mouth so dry he couldn't utter a word, but he opened his eyes again. There she was, smiling, tears in her eyes.

"Welcome back, my son," she said with a soft voice.

"Where...?" he croaked.

"Safe."

Loki raised a hand without looking at it, his green eyes were fixed instead on his mother, whose smile fadded as soon as he rattled the chains that bound him.

"Why?" he asked.

She took that hand and cradled it.

"It's to protect you."

He asked for water, and his mother helped him sit up. The world spun around him as she eased him back into the pillows.

"What happened?" he asked once he could drink, looking around.

It was a well-lit room, though there were no windows. Not his bedroom, nor that of the infirmary. Only two doors opened on either side of the barren walls, and one of them seemed eerily out of place in a room with a sick person inside.

His mother took some time to answer, as if she couldn't find the words.

"Mother, please. Did I lose control?"

She shook her head.

"Then why the sealing runes?"

Her lower lip trembled.

"Your father's orders."

"Don't call him that," he hissed at her, despite himself.

"You are currently pending trial," she said at last. "Your... Odin has decreed that you have to answer for a series of crimes."

Loki didn't react immediately. That statement was so surreal it took a few seconds for him to register.

"What?"

She took his hands and squeezed them.

"There will be something we can do," she assured him. "I can talk to him-"

"What are those crimes?"

She drew in some breaths before speaking.

"Among other things," she started. "He knows the influence you intended to gain in Midgard. You also murdered King Laufey. You know what the punishment is."

He felt the blood draining from his face. His brain couldn't even process what he had just heard.

"Thor tried talking to him," his mother rushed to explain. "Not only him, but also Tyr, Sif and your other friends."

"And yet I'm chained," he said through clenched teeth, pulling his hands out of Frigga's grasp. His chest felt so tight he thought he would suffocate. He turned his face away from her, not out of contempt, but because he didn't want his mother to see him like this. "Leave me," he whispered, his voice shaking. "Please, leave me."

Without a word, Frigga stood up and walked away, barely restraining a whimper.

The door opened, and that sound was what broke the dam for Loki.

He screamed. It was a short cry at first, with what little air he had in his lungs, but then he howled in rage and helplessness, over and over again. He knew no one would hear him because the room was soundproof.

He was in Asgard's jail, after all.

xxxxXX-0-XXxxxx

For the next few days he only saw his mother. He couldn't move from his cell, but was allowed to walk around as soon as he was strong enough to stand on his feet without help. The side effects of Malekith's poison had worn off, but even months after the ordeal, Loki would have a nagging, dull ache in his left side from time to time. His chains, however, remained. It was a formality, he was told, until the trial was over and he was moved to a safer cell.

Said trial had already been arranged and, two weeks after he woke up, he was summoned to the Throne Room. The guards who would escort him waited at the entrance to his cell; the one leading them briefly informed him of the deed, reciting all the legal formalities, and couldn't hide his embarrassment at the task he had been assigned.

They found no servants on their way up, although Loki caught a glimpse of a maid, who crossed their path by accident, turning hurriedly away and hiding behind a column, her eyes cast downwards.

The doors to the Throne Room opened. Though it had been cleared of debris, half of the east wall was missing. Outside it was a clear day, with cotton-like clouds against an azure sky. As he approached the throne, his eyes remained fixed on that sky, and for a moment his thoughts wandered to Jane.

When the guards stopped, so did he, though he didn't look up.

The sound of Gungnir hitting the floor echoed through the room, despite the missing wall. Loki looked up and as he did, out of the corner of his eye he caught a glimpse of iridescence on the East wall: a force field.

Odin sat on his throne, while Commander Tyr stood a few steps below and at the foot of the stairs sat the royal scribe, Ulf, at a desk. No one else was present.

Tyr read the charges against him. His armor had been cleaned and repaired, his beard combed as thoroughly as always, but his expression was grim as he spoke, and when he finished he looked forward, towards some point in space.

"Do you understand the gravity of your crimes?" Odin asked him.

"Aren't you going to ask me if I declare myself innocent or guilty?" Loki answered after a pause. "For how long has my verdict been written?"

"Breaking my seal can be attributed to a case of extreme urgency," said Odin. "Although we have no conclusive evidence that the actions leading to it were not deliberate, given that you already had an understanding with the Jötnar, but we will come back to that later. You wielded Gungnir without permission and stepped into the role of Regent, possibly to undermine Thor's claim to the throne with an act of heroism from your part. However, you broke my express command not to meddle in the affairs of other Realms. Do you deny that you intended to gain enough power to rule Midgardians as a tyrant, with all the possible consequences?"

"I found earnest people willing to help me in my darkest hour, which is more than half this family has ever done for me. I also found a Realm, plagued with corruption, chaos and injustice. What was I supposed to do? Crawl into a hole and rot there? Why shouldn't I have ruled them?"

"DO YOU DENY IT?"

Odin's voice echoed in the chamber. Loki felt one of the guards behind him flinching, probably a young recruit.

"Midgard is in turmoil," he continued, straightening his back and standing to his full height despite the many chains that weighted him down. Suddenly, Odin's outburst of rage fueled his own anger. "And I was no longer a citizen of Asgard. I was human, short-lived, as you dictated. I used none of my magical powers, none of my superior strength, only my wits. I was born to lead. Can you blame me for acting according to my own natural condition and my birthright?"

Something changed in Odin. The impassive, cold mask tensed, the cheeks reddened, the blue eye flashed. The soldiers around Loki fidgeted, uneasy, but the Prince stood still, holding Odin's gaze.

"Born to lead," the Allfather repeated slowly and bitterly. "Do you think no one would have objected to your absolute rule? Humans are primitive and violent, the balance of their world perpetually on a knife's edge. What could you have achieved if not another world war? Aye, you were born to lead, but not in Midgard and neither here. You were destined for a frozen throne, to seal an everlasting peace, but now that path is lost forever. There is also the matter of King Laufey, whose people you led into the very heart of this Palace, threatening the safety of its inhabitants out of pure spite and envy towards the rightful Heir. Once they had served their purpose, you murdered them in cold blood rather than subduing their king and negotiate a truce as the law requires."

Odin's tone became harsher.

"You were born to die in a cold rock, but instead you grew in power here. Your magic and your wits are your weapons, but so are your manipulative tendencies and your unquenchable thirst for power, which have proven to be a danger to you and to all who cross your path."

Loki opened his mouth to speak, but Odin was faster.

"For the murder of one of royal blood from an allied Realm you ought to be put to death, but the constant intercession of the Queen and the Prince Regent has caused the Crown to consider a stay of execution until further evidence can be produced against such ruling. I therefore decree that the accused shall instead spend the rest of his days in prison. However, this decision will be subject to future review should further evidence be presented, either to exonerate him, which is unlikely, or to finally condemn him to the capital punishment. The Crown has spoken."

Tyr recited more formalities aloud, but to Loki they sounded like a droning noise. When he finished, the Commander's cheeks were red, his mouth set in a thin line. A gentle tug on his chains woke the Prince up. The guard who had done it lowered his gaze sheepishly.

Loki let the guards lead him out of the Throne room and back to the prison. As the doors to the Throne Room opened he heard someone muffle a whimper. Looking around, he saw no one in the deserted corridor until, out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of a golden skirt. His mother's favorite.

His heart sank.

Chapter Text

He weighted the tome in his hand and opened it, out of curiosity, to see pages and pages of text, diagrams and runes. He could understand all of that if only he put his mind to it, but magic wasn't for a warrior and, besides, he had more pressing matters to tend to.

Thor put the tome on a pile with the others, to keep checking the spines along the shelf. Loki had been very specific about what he wanted, and those demands had been what had puzzled his older brother.

Because the book he had just taken was the only one about theory of magic, all the others were about old mythologies from other Realms and History books.

Loki hadn't offered him too many reasons for his request, only that he needed to know more about their enemy. It was just books, Thor thought, what harm could it cause?

When they were younger, Frigga often told Thor to take Loki under his wing, to include him in his games. There was a time, as it happens with children growing up, when they grew distant, one focusing in physical combat, the other in magic, and both believing that their path was the correct one.

He picked up another book about old traditions from Nidavellir and leafed through it. Deeming it useful, he put it with the others.

A clerk passed by, her arms full of books. She saw him near the History books and slowed her steps, before catching herself staring and resuming her duties at a faster pace.

The days right after Loki's trial had been the hardest: for two days their mother had locked herself up in her chambers, refusing to see anyone, even her own maids. Loki had been transferred to an unoccupied cell in the unused wing of the prison, courtesy of Tyr. The Commander had pointed out that a Prince shouldn't be mingled with regular brigands and looters.

He had come down to visit his brother the day after the trial. His cell had been furnished with his own bed, his desk and a bookshelf, and servants brought him the same food they served at the Royal table, as instructed by the Queen. He found his brother reading one of his books, but he didn't look up when he approached the window.

Thor had wanted to offer his brother an explanation, but the first thing he uttered was a question:

"Did you intend to take the throne?"

His brother took some time to answer. He closed his book and looked up at him. A brief "no" was all he said. Then he asked in turn if it had been Thor of Asgard the one to accuse Loki of such crime.

Thor argued and defended himself, claiming that both him and Frigga had been trying to make his case before Odin, but to no avail.

Loki seemed to ponder his words for a moment.

"I believe you only because I know you are incapable of lying," he said. "But I hope you will understand it if I don't have any desire to see you or speak to you for the time being."

His brother resumed his reading, ignoring him.

Giving up wasn't in Thor's nature, however, and he would visit Loki every day. He would talk about everything he had done that day, about news from the other Realms, Heimdall's steady recovery, about how the Dwarves of Nidavellir had offered their best builders and Alfheim their best artisans to help reconstruct Asgard, the difficulties they were facing sometimes, the good news, the setbacks... At first Loki seemed not to pay any attention, however, Thor arrived each day at the same hour and he noticed that, instead of retiring to the furthermost corner of his cell, his brother kept sitting by the same window, leisurely reading a book of his choosing.

Days went on like this; little by little, Loki seemed to change his demeanor. His older brother thought he was at last mellowing, until one day, out of the blue, Loki asked if Thor could find some books for the library for him.

He agreed, seeing no harm in it. And so he kept that routine, when his duties allowed it.

Looking now around the rows of shelves, he realized Loki had gone through almost all the books there.

On one of the upper shelves, a red leather bound tome caught his attention. He stretched his hand to take it and weighted it. The book was lighter than he expected, but it was covered in dust, as if it had been untouched for many years. There was no title in the cover and, opening it, it was filled with text and star charts from outside the Nine Realms. It wasn't what his brother was looking for, but he added it to the pile.

If Loki didn't want it, he could read it himself, outdated as it was. The Dark Elves had been hiding for five thousand years and, when they came back, they did it alongside creatures from outside any Realm or planet they knew. Their star charts would be useless, but Loki had a gift to find useful clues and information in the most unexpected places.

The fact that Asgard lacked a proper fleet of warships infuriated him. They had grown complacent in their own glory and thought that Yggdrasil would always be strong enough. Incursions from stray marauders was one thing, and easy to repel, but a whole invasion from a force they didn't know where it came from was something no one could have prepared for.

He then remembered that the jump system used by most spaceships was incompatible with the routes of Yggdrasil, for the branches of the Tree would interfere with the ship's instruments at best, or destroy it at worst.

Looking at the small tower he had formed with the tomes, he nodded to himself and picked them up. Training, fighting, drinking and eating, those were good to keep his mind occupied, but small tasks like this one also served their purpose. However, Thor had always been very careful that no one knew that fact about him.

Strutting his way out of the library, books under his arm, he went back to the prison level.

Chapter Text

Guard duty down at the prison was one of the most boring posts one could be assigned to at the Palace, Adalstienn thought. There were dangerous criminals locked up there, that was true, but automated security measures alone were more than enough to keep anyone inside. Still, guards were needed to keep an eye on the prisoners, and make sure it didn't devolve into a colony prison.

The empty wing, however, was the quietest of them all. It only had one inmate: Prince Loki. Food was usually served by the guards, except for the Prince. A servant from the kitchen would bring him his meals every day, by order of the Queen, who also supervised the Prince's diet.

Whichever the case, soon he overheard among the tavern's gossiping one evening, that the kitchen servants were quite worried, for each day the Prince looked more emaciated. They had passed that intelligence on to the Queen's handmaids, but the Queen said it was the expected thing given the Prince's predicament, and a possible after effect of the poison used against him.

The general sentiment in Asgard was ambivalent. On one hand the populace would always rely on Odin's judgment, and his word was law, but servants and guards had seen what Prince Loki had done along Prince Thor, Lady Sif and the noble Warriors Three. And while the youngest prince lain in bed, burning with fever, word spread among the palace staff and the soldiers about what had happened with Malekith; thus the servants prayed, so that Loki's life would be spared. Then, out of the blue, the Allfather declared his youngest son a traitor and forbade his name to be spoken ever again.

But the will of the Allfather wasn't to be questioned, and so all servants and guards obeyed and accepted that it wasn't their place to have an opinion on the matter. However, Adalstienn guessed that few of his companions saw with good eyes what the Allfather did to his own son. The charges were solid, according to Asgardian law, but his acts to repel the invasion should have acted as mitigating facts. He once commented such thoughts in passing and his captain scolded him severely, advising him that insubordination wouldn't be tolerated.

Even after being told off, Adalstienn didn't see it as fair, no matter what his captain would say. At least the other Prince hadn't left his brother alone, visiting him every day.

But the declining health of the youngest Prince had made the kitchen servants grow concerned, so they had taken to supervise with worry whether if any change or addition to the menu would improve the Prince's health. Every time Adalstienn saw a servant come back for the tray of empty dishes and the used cutlery, he would heard them ask the Prince if the meal was to his liking, and each time he would answer that it had been delicious.

This was everyday life in prison, and today it would be no different. He saw one of the girl servants marching along the corridor, tray in hand. Ylfa was her name, if he remembered well. He had seen her several times in the gardens, but had not yet gathered the courage to go beyond a polite greeting.

She saluted him and his companion with a smile that quickly disappeared to concentrate on her task at hand.

Her shriek made his heart jump to his throat.

Both guards rushed to the cell, from which Ylfa ran away, covering her face, sobbing and screaming.

What they saw inside didn't surprise him, when he calmly reflected on the gruesome scene days later. The Prince had shown signs of a serious illness, whichever it was; even though he had been branded a criminal, the shame of wasting away in bed must have been too much for him to bear.

Thus he had died the closest thing there was to a warrior's death. Later, Adalstienn's captain investigated the scene, discovering that the Prince had stolen one piece of cutlery from one of his meals, sharpened it, and gotten a crude yet extremely effective blade.

The Queen received the news quite badly. She didn't allow anyone to touch her son's corpse, for only she would shroud him and prepare him for the funeral rites. For the first time since any Asgardian could remember, the Queen's voice was heard above that of the Allfather's: Her son wouldn't sleep in a cold mound next to the sea like a criminal, he would have a proper funeral and his spirit would travel to the Beyond, where it belonged.

And so they prepared a boat fit for a Prince, putting around his corpse many of the things he cherished in life.

In the meantime Thor, along with his companions, came back from a diplomatic mission after a fortnight in other Realms, just in time for the funeral.

Flames devoured the vessel as it slowly sailed towards the Astral Sea, as grief seemed to consume both Mother and Older Brother.

No one spoke a word about it, but not too long after everything was said and done, the Queen went to visit her sister in Vanaheim, taking all her handmaids with her.

It would be a long stay.

xxxxXX-0-XXxxxx

The meeting had gone for longer than he would have liked, but his attendance was required. Besides, Pepper would have his head on a pike had he skipped that one; not that he would have done it on purpose, but she made sure to make her plans known should he had any ideas.

However, the only thing running around Tony Stark's mind, as he rode the lift down to the lobby, was how Fury was now speedrunning his Avengers initiative, ever since that incident at Puente Antiguo. The list of eligible people was meager, at best. Who would have thought, that those with "extraordinary" abilities were mostly people who either shunned society or had to be locked away?

The cold air woke him up when he stepped outside. It was late at night and it was January, he remembered; New Year had gone by a week prior, but the party he threw seemed to have happened a century ago.

His car was running, with Happy standing at attention to open the door for him. Hogan's placid expression at seeing Tony changed in the blink of an eye when he saw something behind his boss. Him drawing his gun and Tony ducking happened at the same time.

"I mean no harm, please!" Tony heard a familiar voice behind him.

The millionaire looked behind him.

"Loki?"

Of all the people to have snuck into his headquarters, Loki was the last person he expected to see. Tony laughed, signaling Happy to lower his weapon.

"Where have you been, you scoundrel?" he laughed.

The Asgardian was genuinely happy to see him. Though elegantly dressed, his face seemed haggard, almost emaciated.

"You didn't kill any of my guards, did you?" the millionaire joked.

Loki shook his head, smiling weakly.

"Come," Tony signaled, his tiredness forgotten. "The one about to blow your brains up is Happy Hogan, the head of security and my personal bodyguard," he patted a disgruntled Happy in the shoulder who, nevertheless, opened the car's door as if nothing had happened. "Don't be too hard on yourself, he's a magician. You know, invisibility and all those things," he turned to Loki. "Don't mind him, he never smiles. You look paler than usual, I have a scotch in my car that will cheer you up. Come on!"

The car started moving smoothly. When he sat down, Loki felt his temples about to burst, his eyes heavy with tiredness. He accepted the glass of whiskey Tony offered, taking a sip almost immediately; he was tempted to down it in one gulp, but he suspected that would have been considered rude.

"So, what happened up there? Did you win?"

The story came out slowly. As Loki recounted their battles, Tony listened in respectful silence, but when he reached the part where he had been thrown into prison, the millionaire scoffed, but didn't say a word until Loki finished talking.

"What a load of bullshit," he sneered, taking a gulp from his glass. "And here I thought that Shakespeare was full of it with his plays. You sure you don't want to stop and eat something? I know a mom-and-pop joint that is open all hours of the day, they serve the best burgers on the West Coast."

"I need to lay low," Loki explained, his head resting back on his seat, empty glass on his hand. "I'm not sure if I could use my Norwood persona this time. I made sure they wouldn't search for me, but I'd rather be prudent."

"Yeah, well," Tony chuckled mirthlessly, the tone of the conversation shifted completely. "Odin is not the only one you have to worry about. You got all the guys at SHIELD with their panties in a twist after your number at my ranch."

Loki groaned, rubbing the bridge of his nose. Together with his brother they had prepared, as a counter measure against their data harvesting, a programmed virus that would activate as soon as the transportation ended and the bridge was closed. The last thing they wanted was having human governments being able to visit Asgard whenever they pleased, so they bobby-trapped the device. And the last thing Loki imagined happening to him was going back as a fugitive.

"I loved the shit out of it," Stark cackled. "You should have seen Fury's and Romanoff's faces! And that little message on every screen, like the calling card of a gentleman thief. It's been ages since I saw such a good prank," still giggling, he kept sipping his scotch. "You know, Fury is forming a group of people after all the mess that went on at Puente Antiguo. They rejected me before but now they come knocking on my door. I'm still thinking about it."

"A group for what?"

"To protect Earth. Turns out that knowing aliens aren't as friendly as you and your brother has ruffled some feathers at Security Councils all over the world. It's not like I'm gonna be under them or anything, but it's good that they have me on the loop for when some party needs some fireworks," he raised a hand and started counting with his fingers. "Romanoff is there, the sharpshooter they brainwashed and you had to wake up is there, my friend Rodney, who else? Oh yeah, Steve Rogers. That guy went close and personal with the Tesseract back in the forties, and I suppose Fury will add some more freaks to the show if needed. Anyway, you need money? Your trust fund is safe, by the way, but you can't touch it if you want to go incognito. I can lend you some cash out of my pocket, though."

"If it wouldn't be much of a nuisance," Loki said, nursing his headache. "I would only need enough to find a place to stay for a few days until I can-"

"I'm not letting an alien at large in Los Angeles at night," Tony interrupted him. "Your Dr. Foster won't be around this time to take you to the hospital."

"Where is she?"

"You wouldn't believe it, but after those white robes treated her like an outcast, now they welcome her with open arms. Something about always having been sure she was onto something or such bullcrap. Now they are kissing her feet for her to go to their universities and investigate there, and I think she's enjoying it."

"Good," he smiled, imagining Jane in a proper laboratory... and bringing her own inventions over because the manufactured machines weren't to her liking. "Where are we going?"

"Home. JARVIS, prepare the third room at the East wing, you know, the one with the balcony," he turned to Loki. "Do you miss seeing the horizon? Of course you do, what am I asking? That room has a nice view and lots of privacy."

"Why are you doing this?"

"I liked how you stuck it to SHIELD," then he wagged a finger. "I don't like many people, so consider yourself fortunate. Also I'd rather have you on my side, you know?"

When they arrived at the house, the luxurious interior didn't disappoint Loki. After thanking Tony, he went straight to his private bathroom to take a shower and then to bed, to have a dreamless, though restless sleep.

xxxxXX-0-XXxxxx

It was late in the morning when he finally woke up. Lazily turning his head on the pillow, he saw a bright, blue sky through the big windows. He remained there for a while, without a thought in his head, just gazing at the sky.

At least there had been no nightmares this time.

It kept happening since he broke Odin's seal. He couldn't remember anything the following morning, but his sleep was always restless and he would always wake up with the feeling of having gone through a terrifying ordeal.

It was worsened by the fact that, for the first time in his life, he felt completely lost. A part of himself was tempted with running away to some place outside the Yggdrasil system and live there in peace. Then he remembered himself that, as things where, Asgard didn't stand much of a chance if Malekith came back with reinforcements, and he knew the Dark Elf wouldn't stop at Nine Realms.

The thought of the worlds he knew being plunged into darkness and all their inhabitants being enslaved or, worse, exterminated, made him wince. He remembered Tony mentioning that Fury was gathering a group of special people to protect themselves against exterior threats. No Midgardian army could stand against the Dark Elves and whatever they had allied themselves with.

He felt so tired, and yet he had to do something.

A monster protected nothing, created nothing, died for nothing.

He got out of bed, eventually. After dressing up, he went downstairs; JARVIS informed him that Stark was in his basement and had asked not to be disturbed, but that he was free to roam the premises. Then he drew Loki's attention to a cellphone sitting on one of the coffee tables.

"You left your cellphone at Mr. Stark's ranch, sir," the artificial voice said. "I took the liberty of updating its software and charging the battery, as Mr. Stark implied that you might want to make some phone calls to any of your friends, since your line is secured."

Loki had a plethora of reasons not to do it, but he felt mentally exhausted to expose them, so he pocketed the cell without another word. The first thing he did after a generous and much needed breakfast, was going outside and spend the morning either walking through the gardens or sitting at the cliffs, enjoying the sound of the crashing waves.

At midday he came back to the house, where JARVIS welcomed him once again before showing him several diagrams depicting some statistics; several of them were underlined in red.

"Sir, if I may," the AI started. "Though your physiology is different from that of earthlings, my sensors have noticed a significant variation in your vital signs since your last visit to Earth. The production of certain hormones has become abnormally low, whereas others have spiked, and you seem to suffer from undernourishment. This, paired with your heart rate, pupil dilation, restless sleep pattern, neural activity and overall behavior could lead to a diagnosis of early stages of depression."

"What does a robot know of that?" he snapped, laughing bitterly.

"According to your own story, you have undergone a prolonged and involuntary period of physical and social isolation. Your vital signs match the symptoms referred by those who had similar experiences."

Loki was about to lash out a second time, but a voice interrupted him.

"I wouldn't argue with him if I were you," Tony said as he climbed the stairs from the basement. The arc reactor could be seen glowing through his black t-shirt. "His diagnoses are sometimes way better than those of doctors."

JARVIS served lunch; Tony was the only one talking over it, mostly about what had happened those past three months with SHIELD. At one point he asked Loki something, but the Asgardian realized at that moment he hadn't been paying any attention.

"See what I mean?" said Tony. "You are zoning out more than you should."

"My apologies, I-"

"Nah, save them," Tony waved his hand. "But you are starting to worry me."

"How do you...?" Loki started, as if finding the right words was too difficult. "What do you do when you do things exactly as you should, and still you lose?"

"Never messed up before?"

"No, no, it's not that. It's far worse. I've had many, many setbacks in my life, but I got back on my feet, dusted myself and kept going on. Imagine if you had your own existence turned upside down, but you do as it's required of you, even if you are no longer duty bound to it, while risking your life in the process. And it's still meaningless, as if your whole existence had been predestined."

Tony looked at him for a moment, in silence. Then he asked him:

"You know I was held as hostage, right?"

"I didn't mean to trivialize..."

"No, no, just follow me here. I was a hostage, right?"

"Yes."

"What did the newspapers say about other hostages?"

"They didn't say a thing," Loki answered.

"Of course they didn't," Tony smiled wryly. "A billionaire who manufactures weapons and gives them headline after headline is a valuable asset. A genius surgeon capable of saving the life of a man who should have been dead already?" he tapped at the reactor on his chest. "Not so much. Some terrorists wanted me to build them one of my missiles, so they abducted me and threw me in a cave. They had also captured Ho Yinsen, one of the best surgeons ever, and told him to save my life. I had shrapnel that couldn't be removed near my heart, so he carved this hole in my chest and used a electromagnet plugged to a car battery to keep it away. We became friends, and he told me he wanted to see his family when we could escape."

He sighed.

"We had a plan, but when everything was set into motion he grabbed a gun, told me he would save me time and darted ahead. I found him at the cave's entrance, riddled with bullets. Turns out that was his plan all along, and that his family was dead. When I came back you already know what I did, to try and set things right, and all because a dying man told me not to waste my life.

"What I mean with all this yapping is that sometimes we think we are doing the right thing and we still mess up. I thought I was doing fine all my life just selling weapons and not caring, just because no one else did it and I didn't want to be the only loser with a conscience. Then I got all that thrown to my face and there I was, trying to keep that doctor breathing, as if saving that one person would make up for the many that my weapons vaporized over the years, but there are things that we cannot control. I'm still making up for not being able to save that one life. I will probably keep doing it as long as I breathe, and let me tell you something: It's hard. The hardest, most ungrateful thing I've ever done. But I keep going on because now I couldn't live with myself if I didn't."

Loki didn't expect those words from Tony. The human had given him much to think about that evening, which he spent alone. Stark had a date with Pepper that night that he had postponed far too many times.

At one point, he took his cellphone, holding it in his hand. He had assured himself he didn't want Jane to be involved, but he knew it was just an excuse. There was a doubt in his heart and a weight that had started to feel almost unbearable.

"JARVIS," he said aloud. "Where is Doctor Foster?"

A picture of Jane floated in front of him, along with insignias of official organizations.

"Dr. Jane Foster is currently employed by SHIELD as a consultant to the Investigations Division and as a lecturer at the Shield Academy of Science and Technology, one of the three branches of the organisation's training centre. Today is her last day of winter break, although it's Friday, and according to her schedule, she still has three days before she has to return to her post."

He unlocked his phone, opened the chat application and remained there, looking at the last words they interchanged, months ago. It was an inconsequential conversation that she ended with a 'bye!' and a smiley. He scrolled up: more exchanges in the same tone, with some photographs in between of daily modern appliances and him asking her if they were adequate and how to use them.

Taking a deep breath, he wrote a simple message: 'Hi, I'm here. I'm safe. How are you?'

Putting the phone aside, he requested JARVIS to screen a movie for him. Asgardians had tried their hands at filming stories once, but it was a short lived fad, as they found live theater plays far more enjoyable. He chose a light comedy from the previous century, anything to lighten his current somber mood.

His phone buzzed before the opening credits had finished. Jane had answered with her characteristic enthusiasm, which made him smile broadly, probably for the first time since he returned to Asgard. He wrote back 'Can I video call you?'.

A few moments went away, then the signal of her writing appeared, then disappeared, and this looped for almost a minute before she finally answered asking him to wait.

JARVIS had paused the movie, offering him to show the videocall instead when Dr. Foster would be ready.

Five minutes went away, then ten. She called, finally; Loki felt a weight lifting off his shoulders when he saw her smiling face.

She seemed to be in a working environment, judging by the background. Jane's voice trembled a bit when she greeted him; he had to swallow first to speak to master his own voice. She appeared to be in a small office, away from her coworkers, something he was thankful for; he also secretly thanked his luck at her wearing headphones.

He told her just enough: That Asgard was safe for now, that Odin had thrown him into prison for breaking several articles of their law (she didn't hide her indignation at that), and that he was trying to lay low for a while, so his current whereabouts had to remain a secret. Then he reassured her that Stark had taken him in and that he was safe.

But his explanations didn't seem to convince her.

"You look so thin," she said. "Are you feeling well?"

He assured her he did, that it was just the side effects of him traveling between worlds without the Bifrost's help.

When he asked Jane about herself, she told him that SHIELD was adamant about replicating the Einstein-Rosen Bridge and they kept experimenting with the Tesseract.

"You know, they are pretty angry at you for erasing all the hard drives from the computers, and part of me is too, but I trust you did it for a reason."

"I wasn't going to let them have access to Asgard," he explained. "Had it been only you three I would have left that portal accessible. I only hope they are more careful this time."

"The safety measures are even more strict this time. I also have Darcy with me, and I didn't know I would be saying it, but she has been a blessing."

"Where is Erik?"

"He's back at Culvert. He said he had enough of aliens for a lifetime," she chuckled. "But he's doing all right. How long are you going to be there?"

"A few days. I trust on you being discreet about this matter."

"Well," she made an apologetic gesture. "Darcy knows. Who do you think found this empty room for me to call you and is now standing guard at the door?"

"What excuse did she give?"

Her cheeks reddened.

"I think she pulled out a story about the plumbing at my apartment being leaky, and that the maintenance guy needed me to take a look at something. Since our workplace is secret and he's a civilian he can't see anything of what we are doing."

"She's a fast thinker."

"That's why she's been a blessing. What are you going to do now?"

That question gave him pause. He opted for an easy route.

"This past half year has been quite rough. I need to rest."

"Good," she grew serious. "Probably I won't be able to see you. SHIELD has us under very close scrutiny," there was a loud knock on the door that made her jump and turn her head. When she looked back at him she smiled apologetically. "Time's up. Will message you later."

She cut the call. JARVIS resumed the movie but not before commenting on Loki's health:

"I would suggest to keep in touch with Dr. Foster, sir, as your interaction with her seems to have momentarily alleviated your symptoms."

Loki didn't snap at JARVIS that time; instead he asked him for a cup of tea. Then he sat back and enjoyed the movie, even chuckled at some of the lines.

It was well past sundown when the movie ended. Loki got up to stretch his legs and, as he strode along the ample living room, he asked JARVIS:

"What can you tell me about sorcerers and magicians in Midgard?"

xxxxXX-0-XXxxxx

He went to bed tired, but in a slightly better mood than the previous night. He had spent what remained of that evening searching for information with JARVIS about all the famous magicians known to Midgardians. Since it was a field of knowledge on which Tony was completely uninterested in, the AI had to access several banks of information it had never visited before, slowing down the search around 0.001% of the normal time, as an apologetic JARVIS explained to Loki.

Directing the search towards the figure of the Sorcerer Supreme, Loki could barely find anything useful, except for a few names and locations that were vaguely familiar, but nothing aside old stories and mentions of local legends from some parts of Central Asia.

JARVIS apologized for the lack of information, offering as an excuse that, since those who follow the mystical arts tended to be extremely secretive, they prevented any data about them from being shared in any internet server or data bank.

Loki still had an ace up his sleeve. Each time he had been in Midgard he had made sure to contact all occultist organizations he had access to. Most were either a scam for the desperate, or a cover for the wealthy and depraved to engage in their vices; but there were a few who were true practitioners of the mystical arts. He found one in what now was called Norway, a coven of seers and witches; another in Florence, when he lived there as a married man; and another in London where he had lived as a lawyer. The one in Norway had degenerated into something unrecognisable in the last century, having survived intact for a thousand years, and the one in Italy had turned into a network of herbalist shops which relied entirely in the curative properties of natural products. There was still hope for the English coven.

He lain in bed awake for a long while, thinking about all the venues he had before him. He needed to get stronger before Malekith could strike again. His defenses could still stand, but he needed to know what manner of entity was trying to control him. Asgard's library hosted most of the knowledge from the Nine Realms, but he knew that Midgard was a wild card, as its relationship with magic was a particular one.

Slowly, he drifted into sleep.

A rush of vertigo washed over him before he saw himself in a familiar room.

"Isn't it a bit rude to invade other people's dreams?" he asked aloud. "You humans use cellphones now, you know."

"My apologies," the Sorcerer Supreme answered, materializing before him. "You will have to excuse this old lady for not trusting modern communication devices. Speaking of manners," she tapped her fan against her hand playfully, as a shadow of a smile curved her lips. "Your kind has the tendency of barging into our planet more times than you would admit."

"I'm not supposed to be here, and believe me when I say that this is the least desired scenario for me."

She frowned in surprise.

"What happened?"

"Must I recount everything by word?"

The Sorcerer shook her head, closing her eyes. Loki didn't offer any resistance, yet her prodding was gentle, as a hand slowly browsing among delicate crystal ware pieces. One by one he offered his memories for her to look at, from the moment they left Midgard to his humiliating defeat at Malekith's hands, and then him imprisonment. However, he left out many pieces of information. It was unwise to reveal all your cards, especially in a moment of vulnerability.

"I need to get stronger," Loki said after she had finished. "And for that I need to remain in this planet, for Malekith comes for the Nine Realms, and he's not alone."

The Ancient One turned her gaze from him, as if in thought.

"It's serious," she said at last, turning to him again. "But nothing we can't remedy. You must travel to our main sanctuary as soon as you can."

"Why?"

"You seek help that only us can provide, and you will need a secure environment where to practice... and where to lower your defenses against Asgard's ever-watching eyes."

Loki said nothing. He only wanted to be left alone, but he couldn't abuse Tony's hospitality forever to avoid SHIELD.

"Where are you?" he finally asked.

"We are in the Himalayan mountain range. Do not worry, you will remember our coordinates when you wake up. We will be waiting for you, Loki of Asgard, but please, come as fast as you can."

Chapter Text

The next morning he jumped out of bed, full of energy, as soon as it was light outside. He asked JARVIS to show him certain coordinates in a map and how long it would take him to travel to that point.

"The location you requested is in a valley in the Himalayas, farfrom any tourist route or popular destination. It's not listed in any database under any name, as a monastery or otherwise, yet satellite imagery shows what would be identified as a religious building. There are no direct roads leading to the site, although the closest settlement is 18 miles to the south-east. If you were to take a direct flight to the nearest airport, it would take you approximately three days by road, and the last 18 miles by horse. That is, of course, if you were to visit during the summer months. In winter, roads are bound to be blocked by snowstorms."

Loki considered JARVIS' explanation. "As fast as you can" turned into a week's journey, if not more. That wouldn't be too much of a nuisance, but the Sorcerer's reaction to his memories told him all he needed to know about the seriousness of his situation.

After JARVIS finished, Loki was about to ask him about commercial flights for that very day, but a noise from downstairs distracted him.

"That is the garage door, sir. Mr. Stark must be back."

A few minutes later, he saw Tony slowly climbing the stairs.

"Don't tell me you've been up all night!" he human exclaimed when he noticed Loki sitting at the counter.

"I just woke up," Loki said, sipping his coffee and taking a brief look at him: his tie was completely undone, his shirt partially unbuttoned and he carried his jacket slung over his shoulder. "Can I infer you are the one who has been up all night?"

"Yeah," Tony smirked. "I owed Pepper a Friday night, well, several, and I just paid her with interest, if you know what I mean. Anyway, I'm off to bed."

"I need to travel to Kathmandu, you know of a direct flight?"

Tony shook his head as if he tried to wake up.

"What?" he then served himself a cup of coffee. "It's either too early in the morning or too late in the night for these kind of questions."

"I thank you for your hospitality, but I have businesses that require my attention."

"So formal... And you need to go to Nepal?"

"The Himalayan Mountains," he thought about it and decided to sum it up. "Magic has always existed in your planet, only not many have been privy to that knowledge. There's a problem I need to solve, and there's a place where they can help me."

"O... kay," Tony said slowly. "JARVIS, where is that?"

He gave the map a quick look.

"It's January, so they now have tons of snow and probably wind too," Stark said as he looked at the hologram. "Why take a commercial flight then the bus then a yak when you can borrow one of my suits? Don't make that face, you tried them already and they are more than safe. You can go whenever you want, it will be a few hours, not days. And you will land with style at their doorstep."

Those points were hard to argue against, especially when he was in such haste.

"You travel light, right?" Tony continued. "I don't remember any suitcase."

"I have my own means of carrying my possessions," he said, extending his hand and conjuring the coat he had been wearing the previous night, to then making it disappear.

"Yeah," the human nodded. "Because I don't remember those sweatpants or that t-shirt. Do you carry your entire wardrobe in your hocus-pocus space?"

"No," he sighed in frustration, remembering how Odin, after the battle with Malekith stripped him of all the artefacts he carried: The Casket of Ancient Winters, his daggers... It was a good thing he had left his Midgardian gizmos behind, in a safe place. "Just the bare necessities."

"All right," Tony said, as he finished his coffee. "I'm exhausted and want to go to bed. What time is it in Khatmandu, JARVIS?"

"It's a quarter to eight in the afternoon, sir."

"The other side of the world, after all," he said to himself. "The maximum speed I can give you would get you there in about five hours. Faster than that would raise some questions and I don't want my phone blowing up, not today. So either you go now and arrive in the middle of the night, scaring the crap out of everyone, or you arrive with the first light of day. Personally I prefer the second, it's much more dramatic."

The millionaire had a point, but Loki was in a hurry and preferred to leave as soon as possible. Tony didn't argue, instead asking JARVIS to bring the suit Loki had used three months before. After thanking the human and shaking his hand, Loki changed his clothes, got into the armored suit and set off towards the Himalayan Range.

xxxxXX-0-XXxxxx

Five hours was a long time to spend in a metal suit; Loki was more than grateful when JARVIS finally announced that the Sanctuary was in sight and that he would begin the descent.

Luckily he arrived on a clear night, which allowed him to admire his destination from the air. Kamar-Taj resembled more a citadel than a place of study and prayer. Built on the natural terrace of a mountain, facing south, high walls and towers guarded its buildings and courtyards, though the many windows carved into the rocky mountain suggested that the Sanctuary had been partially built inside the mountain. A narrow path meandered through the side of the mountain to the valley below, where a small village sat on the edge of a frozen lake.

The suit landed at the door of the fortress. Even with the air recycling system, it was good to breathe the cold, free air again. Without a word, the suit took off and disappeared in the distance like a shooting start.

He stood there for a moment, noticing the lack of visible guards; however, his eyes were instinctively drawn to the arrow slits and the seemingly empty windows. Knowing full well that he was being watched, he stepped up to the massive doors, where two other man-sized doors stood, each sporting each a dragon-shaped, brass knocker in its center. Loki grabbed one and knocked three times; he had heard Midgardians liked the number three, especially when knocking on a door. Personally, he preferred to knock four times, but he had also learned that it was best to follow the customs of each place one visited.

Finally, the bolts moved and the door opened. A tall, dark-skinned man stood at the entrance, looking at him from head to toe.

"Mr. Norwood?" the guard asked, his brow furrowed in puzzlement.

"The very same," Loki said, offering the kind of smile he saved for financial businesses. "I understand the Ancient One was waiting for my arrival."

Suddenly remembering his instructions, the man stepped aside and let him pass, informing him that the Ancient One was resting and was not to be disturbed, though she had left instructions on how to treat her new guest should he arrive during the night.

"Surely we didn't expect you so soon," the man, who introduced himself as Karl, told him as he guided him inside the Sanctuary and into the mountain. "We were a bit confused by the flying armor. I suppose having ties with Tony Stark has its perks."

They crossed the main courtyard into what appeared to be the main building without seeing anyone. Not surprising, since it was the early hours of the night. Loki guessed that the more sensitive facilities would be deeper into the mountain, so when they walked through a wide corridor and Karl opened a set of ornate doors for him, he stood there for a few seconds, trying to make sense of what he was seeing.

"There should be a mountain above us," Karl commented as he waited for him, with the air of someone who has seen the same reaction many times before. "So the world thinks. This is the real Kamar-Taj."

Many buildings spread out before them, climbing up the rock face of the mountain, the farthest ones seemingly carved into the mountain itself.

"These are our homes," Karl explained as they walked through the streets into a large square. "The world sees a temple carved into the mountain, but we are a village. To the right is the house for the novices and the senior students, to the left are the kitchens and the mess halls, in front of us we have the Library, the classrooms and the practice halls, behind that are the Masters' and the Guests' Houses, and at the top there's the Ancient One's private residence."

There was something, however, that made Loki look twice to make sure he wasn't seeing things: On one of the buildings below the Ancient One's residence was a large parabolic reflector.

"That's how we get our internet," Karl informed him.

"But... that's..."

"This is not a cloister, though we devote our time to study and meditation. In this time and age not many people would be willing to leave their loved ones for months or years at a time to come here. Despite what others might say, seeing their families and friends helps them keep their focus. Mobile devices are strictly banned outside leisure hours, though."

As they approached the Guests' House, Karl took a key ring from his belt.

"We prepared a room for you as soon as the Ancient One told us," he explained, opening the door for him; then he offered Loki to fetch him something to eat from the kitchens.

The room he had was assigned to was furnished with the bare necessities. At least its own bathroom. It wasn't much different from his Asgardian cell, except this time he had windows to the outside world. Karl told him that he was free to walk around Kamar-Taj, although it wasn't advisable to disturb the students during class.

The next morning he was given appropriate clothing for his staying. He objected to wearing what he thought was a uniform, but the guard explained that he was free to accept them or not, though if he did, he would find them more comfortable and appropriate for a magic user than civilian clothes.

"The Sorcerer Supreme chose them for you, sir," the guard said. "Since she is the only one to have met you before your arrival. She was sure she got your size right."

He finally accepted, and found that the guard was right, and that the Ancient One had a good eye, because the greenish robes he had been given fit him like a glove.

Another guard led him into the Ancient One's study. Loki couldn't help but smile as he saw the room, exactly as he had seen it during his dreams. The Sorcerer Supreme welcomed him with the warmth of the best hosts. She was shorter than he remembered, though her gait and posture suggested a lithe and powerful physique. After the introductions, she took him on a tour of the Sanctuary, showing him all the facilities he had access to. Loki had many questions about how long Kamar-Taj had been active, what they taught, how they selected their students... all questions were answered without missing a beat, which made Loki feel a little suspicious.

"You seem uncomfortable," she said after he abruptly stopped his questioning. "Is something wrong?"

"Why are you so trusting of me?"

"This is a place of knowledge," she explained. "There are few things forbidden here, apartfrom certain practices. If you wish to stay here, you must learn all there is to know about us."

"How do you fund all this?"

"We have several patrons around the world. Some are former students, some others simply understand the importance of our labor. We also charge an annual fee to our students, adequate to their own financial situation."

"I had to ask, after seeing that you enjoy modern commodities."

"It's provided for free by one of our patrons."

They were now in a small courtyard inside the classrooms building, which had been cleared of snow so that the students could move easily. They were practicing moves which seemed more akin to a martial arts style than to spellcasting. To Loki's surprise, despite what he thought the Ancient One's words had conveyed, students at Kamar-Taj were taught physical combat as well as mystical arts, for the dangers they would face were many and they needed to be prepared.

In another courtyard, however, students were practising something that piqued his curiosity. When they moved their hands in a circular pattern, golden sparks would form before them, widening until the spell created a portal. The man who had greeted him was in charge of that group of students. To his surprise, he was no mere servant, but one of the Masters.

"Everyone serves a purpose here," the Ancient One explained. "Karl is one of the most skilled Masters, and the one I trust with recruitment. He has a keen eye for those with enough potential. Of course, they must first give in and accept the existence of the mystic forces. Once that happens, the path lays open for them."

One notable fact he noticed was that the Sanctuary functioned like a clockwork machine, but there was none of the suffocating atmosphere that usually pervaded an academic institution.

"No stay here is ever forced," the Sorcerer Supreme told him. "Those who come searching for answers are free to go away as soon as they are satisfied, or should they feel the need to seek knowledge somewhere else."

"Aren't you afraid you might unleash something into the world? That someone might use those powers against you?"

"No," she chuckled. "I've come across some brilliant students, full of potential, but once they learned what they needed, they went back to their previous lives. In many cases I wish they would have stayed and served a greater cause, but no good can be drawn from a forced hand. If any of my former students ever strayed from the path, we have means to deal with it."

Loki was silent for a moment.

"Then why inviting me? You said you couldn't teach me anything new."

They had stopped to watch another class who were practising how to cast shield spells. She was silent for a while, as if lost in thought.

"That was what I said, indeed, but that Malekith is a menace, not only to Asgard or the other Realms, but to the entire universe, for he won't stop at Yggdrasil, and his actions can usher something even worse than him. You and your brother might as well be our only protection against that."

"I only need more power to face Malekith."

"Wrong. You need to master it better. Asgard is a society which favors brute force and physical strength, something you tried to emulate, if only to fit in, but neglecting your growth as a sorcerer as a consequence. Why use a metal blade when you can conjure your own weapon that fits your needs at any given moment? Why rely on dangerous shortcuts between worlds when you can invoke a portal directly to your destination?"

Slowly, they made their way back to the Ancient One's study.

"As you master more facets of your power," she told him. "So your strength will grow too, and you won't need any seal or protection against any entity from any dimension."

"But what is what pursues me?"

"Not what I thought it was," she confessed, as she bid him to sit on the carpet while she went to brew some tea. "But still you are out of danger, for now."

"How can you be so sure?" he asked, hiding the mounting alarm growing inside him.

"You are here, aren't you?" she smiled, taking the tray with the kettle and cups to the carpet. "If that creature had taken control of you we wouldn't be talking about it over some tea, but fighting to the death, probably with half my world razed to the ground. I'm grateful that it hasn't come to that yet."

He took the cup she offered and stared at it, feeling a knot on his stomach.

Yet.

"There is a ritual," she offered. "It's completely harmless. I'll trace back where that entity comes from and its identity. I would advise to perform it as soon as we can."

"If it involves restraining me or putting me to sleep beforehand...."

"Nothing of the sort," she waved her hand. "Just a droplet of your blood or a strand of hair. You will be able to watch the whole process."

Loki took a sip of his tea, his mind racing as he tried to remember any spell that required blood from the victim, but he came up with nothing. His own innate magic had never relied on ingredients, and he had never been interested in studying those practices that involved biological samples of any kind, considering them barbaric.

She stood up suddenly, walked to one of the libraries that lined the walls, took a book and opened it, searching for something. Then she returned to her seat and placed the book in his hands, already open.

He saw the diagram for a basic spell, though he didn't understand the language it was written in. There was nothing subtle or complicated in it: it used the DNA from the subject's biological sample to lure the entity to the material plane. As this sample was only a small fraction of the whole body and lacked any spirit, the entity had nothing to hold on to and had to return to its dimension. However, it would always leave a spiritual imprint, and that was what the Sorcerer Supreme was after.

"Odin banned these practices in the Nine Realms," he said. "It starts with a droplet of blood for a bit of divination, and the next generation is performing vivisections on newborns."

"I am more than aware," she replied, taking the book from him. Her voice sounded suddenly terse, but it quickly softened. "So used are you to be tricked that you suspect of every shadow?"

He chuckled, shaking his head.

"I am a man on the run: from Asgard, from some Midgardian authorities and from who knows what creature form another dimension. You would expect some caution from someone in my predicament. Besides," he added, waving his hand around. "All this seems so convenient! The fact that you agreed so readily to me coming to your Sanctuary and that you are offering me all but complete deliverance from all my troubles."

She raised her hand and, for the first time, Loki saw a hint of annoyance in her face.

"The sacred duty of a Sorcerer Supreme is to protect Earth from mystical threats," she said, her green eyes suddenly hard and cold. "Such was the pact my predecessors made with the Allfather: While Odin and his bloodline protected the Nine Realms from physical threaats, we would protect them from other dimensions, and our world would remain untouched and under our sole authority. It is my duty to observe the many possibilities that are before us. Throughout my long life I have averted terrible disasters that could have wiped out all life from my world, so that not even bacteria would have survived, but as soon as I prevent one terrible fate another appears on the horizon, no less serious than the last. I will do whatever it takes to protect Earth, even if it means angering the Allfather."

Loki was taken aback by those last words. She seemed to notice, for her gesture mellowed.

"Hasn't it occurred to you that I might be breaking our deal with him by fostering a fugitive?"

He took some seconds to compose himself. Her words made all the more sense when he remembered the strict prohibition to visit Midgard or interfere with its inhabitants' lives.

"If my words have been harsh-"

"It's understandable," she said with a soft smile. "You have been under pressure for too long. Now you are on the run without any known ally. I can assure you that I can be one of them if you let me. Will you let me help you?"

He nodded, biting his lips.

"Good," she beamed, suddenly reaching her hand and taking a lose strand of hair from his shoulders. "This will do."

"What? Here?"

"Not exactly," the Ancient One moved her hands. Loki saw as if a million glasses grew around them, distorting the light, breaking and joining in a chaotic pattern.

"A pocket dimension?"

"Indeed," she took the hair and tensed it between her thin fingers. Soon it glowed with the golden hue of her magic. She made another motion, and the hair disappeared in a sphere of light which floated above them. "Now we wait."

She reached for him and took him by the wrist, he was about to recoil, but she showed him her other hand, which wore a ring on two fingers.

"Without this you wouldn't be able to get out," she said. "It's either wearing a ring like this or grabbing onto someone who is wearing one."

Loki was about to speak when a change in the light made them look up.

Darkness seeped around them, like black ink on a glass of water. The Ancient One's grip tightened, and he found himself grasping her forearm. Black tendrils, as thin as hairs, crept from the confines of the pocket dimension, reaching out, searching for the small orb of light.

"It's this normal?"

"Aye," she whispered. "Just a small portion reaches out, but their anchor is too small to find purchase and doesn't have a soul, so it will retire as quickly as it appeared."

Loki felt horror well up inside him, the same primeval feeling he remembered from that nightmare he had experienced during his magic inrush. The urge to scream grew stronger, yet he resisted. The entity wasn't fully inside their dimensional pocket, but the mere proximity of its aura hit him like a stench, pungent and invasive. It spoke of greed, of hunger and of hatred, not as the concepts all races in the known universe came to distill with time as words, but as if those words were entities with a life of their own, older than the Universe, all together, all intertwined, always searching, always wanting, always hungry but never sated.

The tendrils touched the sphere, stopping for an instant as if they had found what they were looking for. Time seemed to stand still for a heartbeat before the tendrils pierced the sphere, consuming the golden light.

He felt the Ancient One tug on his arm, but his body wouldn't move. He tried to think, but even his mind was paralysed. Loki watched helplessly as the tendrils moved towards him. The panicked thoughts of running away suddenly faded as a thought grew in his mind: "You will be safe and at peace, give yourself away". But those weren't his thoughts anymore. It wasn't telepathy, it wasn't even a language he could understand or identify. The thought simply appeared in his mind, and the only indication he had that it wasn't his was that he knew for certain without the help of magic, no such peace would follow the terror he had felt a moment before. He clung desperately to that knowledge as the new thought repeated itself, as if trying to smother the negative feeling with soothing promises.

The pressure increased until it was almost unbearable. Then the pain began.

Loki felt someone tugging at his arm with enough force to pull him away. Hadn't he been alone all this time? Who was that person with him?

His body hit a firm, padded surface. A carpet. He felt two hands on his chest and a voice intoning a healing incantation. His vision cleared and the first thing he saw was the Ancient One's face looking down at him, her green eyes wide with fear and worry. Her voice came to him as if through a padded wall at first, then became clearer. Loki reached for her sleeve with one hand and clung to her, like a drowning man would to his rescuers.

Then everything went black.

Chapter Text

When he came to his senses, he lain on the study's rug, his head pounding heavily.

"What has happened?" he croaked.

"Something I didn't foresee, and for that I apologize," he heard her voice near him.

She helped him into a sitting position.

"What in Hel was that?" he repeated.

"I cannot say," she confessed. "I didn't expect it to be able to affect you. Did it get near you?"

"It almost trapped me," Loki wiped off the sweat from his brow. He balled his hand on a fist when he realised it was shaking, and slammed it down on the rug in frustration. "I resisted, but barely," he turned his gaze to her. "You told me it would be safe for me."

"I thought it would be safe," she assured him. "I won't risk your well-being ever again, I promise."

"Will my protections fail?"

She shook her head.

"Once it had made contact, the barriers would have acted. What worries me is that it tried to convince you to lower them and almost succeeded. It still doesn't have enough power on its own to breach the boundaries between..." she trailed off. "Do you know the difference between a universe and a dimension?"

He said he did, but for the sake of discussion, he asked her to pretend he didn't, just to compare her explanation with what he had been taught.

It was vastly different. His tutors had told him that a dimension was another universe with its own physical laws, and that travelling from one to another, while costly in terms of energy, was still possible.

"Each choice we make creates a new universe: each movement, each word, choosing to turn right instead of left... All those alternate universes are infinitesimally different from each other, but the further the actions differ from a given point, the further away that universe will be and the more different said universe will be from the starting point. This creates an infinite number of them. While the entity we in Kamar-Taj have been fending off comes from another dimension from our universe, the energy I sensed..." she paused.

"Wasn't from our universe?"

"It came from a very distant one, if that's possible. You see, all our universes are stacked against each other, yet they are separated by an eternal void where time doesn't exist. Travelling between them is not only nigh impossible, but also dangerous. There is a barrier that protects each and every one of our universes, if anyone were to travel between them, the transfer of matter and energy would create a small hole in that protection. Should the travelling continues, both barriers would debilitate, to the point of making both universes collapse, crushing all the others between them."

"Marvelous..." Loki rubbed his temples in frustration. "Simply marvelous."

Then a thought occurred to him.

"The way you explained, it makes one envision the universes as if they were spheres."

"At a given point in time, yes."

"But since a choice can change it, and time keeps advancing..."

"It's not a sphere," she smiled. "The geometrical equivalent would be a cylinder, but what would describe it better would be a tunnel. Now imagine all those tunnels, running along each other, with others doing the same above, below and in every other direction in space."

He nodded, but the notion of the infinite was always bewildering to him.

"And when we sleep, our consciences can get closer to that barrier," he said.

That didn't explain the nightmare he kept having since his magic rush happened.

"But, as every science," she kept explaining. "I'm afraid there are still things yet to be understood or explained. Have you ever dreamed about yourself in another scenario? One so outlandish it doesn't seem possible in this universe?"

Loki's eyes widened.

"So that part of magic theory is accurate? My nightmares are what they seem!"

She nodded.

"Have you observed if their occurrence are dependant on your emotional state?"

"Why is that important?"

"My mind is in a constant state of equilibrium. Yours, however, is free and boundless. Even though you hide your true colors most of the time, your internal turmoil is still there, especially now. I destroyed that dimensional pocket because that entity went for you, despite me being slightly weaker."

"What?"

She smiled.

"You were considered a god on Earth for a reason. The primary goal of that creature is to take hold of you, but it would have been easier for it to do it through my body, yet it ignored me. That my own protections are stronger than yours is the only explanation I can offer."

Loki took some time to process that information.

"You can't really expect me to drop everything and retire to a lonely mountain to meditate. We are at war."

"No. But it's always wise to consider all the available options. I'm sure I'm not the only one who has pointed out your need for a respite."

He was about to protest, but then he remembered JARVIS' diagnosis.

"I know time is on the essence, but resting your mind and soul is as important as resting your body, for a broken mind is more difficult to heal."

xxxxXX-0-XXxxxx

Following the advice of the Ancient One, Loki used his time at Kamar-Taj to grow in strength, but also to rest and recover his spirits.

In between lessons with the Ancient One he used his time to go through their library, discovering with dismay that half of it consisted on magic theory texts he had already known by heart since he was a child. Only the masters' section offered him some new knowledge. But it wasn't until he started perusing the Ancient One's private collection, that he started having a deeper insight into the differences between Midgard and Asgard's knowledge of magic. When he brought up it up to the Ancient One, she gave him one very simple explanation.

"The theories you have been taught, through valid in practice, are not on principle. Imagine that I explained someone how an infection occurs and progresses, but instead of teaching about pathogens and white cells, I started talking about curses. The Allfather has been keeping that knowledge for himself, not out of egoism, but out of caution."

"That makes no sense," he scoffed.

"He has a very pessimistic view of the Universe. He firmly believes that no one will ever be able to stay away from their darkest urges, so his solution is to hide the truth. I am of the opinion that, given enough wisdom and guidance, most will be able to stay in the right path."

"That's why I have access to your entire library?"

"Everyone has. But a novice would merely stare at the texts, not knowing what they mean. Knowledge is not forbidden here, remember that, just certain practices."

Indeed, by reading certain books, Loki learned that there was a way to manipulate time itself, the name of dark entities that would pose a threat to Midgard, and that there were magicians from Midgard's ancient times who were foolish enough to make a pact with those creatures. Those stories, as he guessed, hadn't been erased to serve as cautionary tales for those who would come later.

As for him, he would never be as stupid as to approach any of those creatures. If there was something he prized over everything else was his freedom. Power he could acquire himself, no need to end up being a slave for eternity.

The first spell the Ancient One chose to teach him was the portal. The principle was so simple he felt like smacking himself for not even thinking it could be done in the first place, outside the Odinforce or the jump technology of spaceships, and he didn't need the help of a focus ring, like the other students.

"I thought you might find my first lesson quite useful when you wish to pay a visit to your acquaintances," she commented, a knowing smile playing in her lips.

He didn't answer.

"I supposed you would want to travel to certain places in search of information," she continued, unfazed. "Of course I will never ask you about your findings, because you would only rely to me whatever you see fit, but I ask of you, as a reciprocal favor, that you tell me anything that I might want to know to strengthen our defenses. Isn't that a reasonable request?"

"Plans within plans?" Loki asked, quite amused at the woman's ingenuity.

"One does not live this long without learning to foresee certain things without the aid of magic. It's all I ask, as a courtesy."

Loki didn't agree out of the good of his heart, but because she had a valid point. And, while the rules of hospitality were universal, a guest also had some obligations towards the host.

However, there were other places he wanted to visit first.

A small village in Italy, for example. He looked up the location beforehand, in case it didn't exist anymore but, to his relief, it still did.

The portal manifested with a greenish glow instead of golden sparks, like it did when the Ancient One used the spell. When he stepped through it he was greeted by a silent church. It was very late at night, or very early in the morning in Italy, giving him enough time until they opened the temple for the day's first rites and visits. Nevertheless, a few electric lights were lit, making easier to find what he was looking for.

Fiora's tomb was clean and well kept, still under the altarpiece of that side chapel she favored so much when they visited her hometown. He walked over the rope serving as a barrier, conjuring a small orb of light which floated above him.

There it was, the white marble tombstone, exactly as he remembered it. Carved in large lettering it could be read, written in Latin: "Fiora Bronzino. Beloved wife and devout mother."

Below was another name, one Loki thought he had forgotten. Both Fiora Bronzino and Vincenzo Rinaldi had passed away the same year, 1534.

Loki had never liked to prolong things any longer than necessary.

His hand caressed her name; the pain he had felt when she went away had subsided with time, but the memories didn't. It was a strange thing, to be able to remember someone no one else in the Universe could.

He had wandered into Midgard after a long-drawn war he and Thor had been dragged into, outside Yggdrasil. The things they had seen there kept haunting them, and each one dealt with it in their own way. Loki sought solace and a few years of respite; he said he was going to another place, but he descended in secret to Midgard and lived there as a mortal. There he made his fortune in no time, and in even less time he made his reputation as a respectable gentleman. The atmosphere in Florence during those years was later described as "tumultuous" by Midgardian historians, something Loki would laugh at. The petty squabbles, wars, poisonings and backstabbing was nothing compared to what he had seen in his lifetime. To him, the Republic of Florence was an oasis of peace; besides, he met Fiora there.

Loki hadn't planned what would happen there. He always had a fallback plan and this time it wasn't different. Feigning a death was child's play, especially when dealing with Midgardians.

Each sunrise he reminded himself about the viability of his alternate plan, and each sunset he would think to himself: "Let's wait one more day". He had still things to do, scenarios to explore and parties to go to.

"One more day."

One night during springtime he asked Fiora for a dance at the Medici's Palace, where all the rich and the influential people had been invited for one of their feasts.

"One more day."

The following winter he asked Fiora's father for her hand, not a year after having first danced with her.

"One more day."

His firstborn cried in his arms: the first breath of life. They named him Alessandro, and later in life he would show his mother's golden curly hair, blue eyes and temperament, while resembling his father in build, intelligence and cunning.

"One more day."

Five more children were born throughout the years, healthy, strong and clever. He was curious to see how they would grow up.

"One more day."

His daughters were courted by many young men he had to carefully weed out. It was a fun task, though his daughters didn't find it as amusing.

"One more day."

Until there were no more days left. There was no warning, no signs. Fiora was still healthy and beautiful to his eyes, but she kept telling him that her strength waned, that she felt diminished. Many doctors saw her, all saying the same thing, that her only ailment was old age.

Helplessness overwhelmed him. She sensed his distress and tried to ease it, telling him that all their children were already married and with comfortable positions, that she could go in peace; but she didn't understand, could never understand.

Her mind wasn't prepared for the possibilities he could offer her.

If only she could have accepted the truth.

And so he ran out of days. He commissioned a white marble tomb for her while he prepared for his own parting. Not long after they buried Fiora, the servants found a body at his home: an old widower who had gone to sleep one night never to wake. Loki lingered, always in disguise, out of curiosity. His children mourned him as they had their mother. They dressed their father in his best attire, as if he were attending a party, with his best doublet, his sword at his side and his favourite cane at the other, and his signet ring on his finger. His daughters combed his silver hair and kissed his wrinkled forehead, saying: "Farewell, dear Father, you go now with Mother, who loved you well."

They buried the couple together. He hadn't said anything about that, but his daughters saw fit that their parents would spend eternity together.

Then they went back to their homes, but not before having a reunion at Alessandro's house. What Loki thought would be a bloodbath over the inheritance (he had left them quite the fortune divided unevenly on purpose), was a simple conversation about the partitions their father had done. His eldest daughter, Isabella, argued that they weren't fair for, even when she had been bequeathed a considerable sum, the youngest of them had almost nothing. They couldn't help it for, as the notary pointed out, a will cannot be changed once the individual had passed away.

Alessandro stood up.

"Given that it wouldn't be wise to force the Law's hand in this matter, I say we all accept Father's will as it is. Once the assets are legally ours we are entitled to do as we see fit. Let's write a new partition in this very room, given that we have already bothered our dear Notary, that he won't have to travel more times than he wishes to these lands. I hope this arrangement can satisfy everyone here, yes?"

If there was ever a time when Loki felt bewildered, disappointed and proud at the same time, it was when he witnessed that scene. In the end, the brothers took possession of the properties, the sisters received an equivalent amount in jewels and money, and everyone was happy with the deal.

He remembered Fiora behaving in exactly the same way when she was alive. Not being entirely familiar with the customs of the place, and very much wishing for his own freedom, he let the entire task of raising and educating their children to her. Loki suspected that so many kids would be an overwhelming task for a soft-hearted woman like her, and she would fail in the end.

Not only did Fiora go above and beyond her duties as a mother, but she also managed to correct certain tendencies that some of the children had shown from a tender age that she deeply disliked. But Loki was sure that when the paternal influence was gone, each would return to their own nature.

He was proved wrong, as he watched his children, now adults with families of their own, do exactly as their mother had taught them so many years ago.

Loki abandoned Florence in secret, and in secret he returned to Asgard, telling no one of what he had done.

Now even their grandchildren had turned to dust, and he hoped that, whatever genetic information he had passed down to them, it had diluted through the centuries until nothing remained.

With a flourish of his hand, he made a bouquet of daisies appear in his arms. Those were Fiora's favourites, always insisting on picking a few whenever they traveled through the countryside.

Love was a transactional thing, that much he had learned through is life. He had always thought the actions of his children had been guided by superstition and fear of being punished for not honoring their father, that it was a mere accident of fate.

When he met Jane and her friends, he had to face the same question and obtained the same bewildering answer. Their actions taught him the same lesson, but he dismissed it again as a mere coincidence.

As his hand rested on the cold, marble stone, he pondered about his beliefs. During his imprisonment he had plenty of time to devise strategies, to mull over his own bitterness, and to think about the past. He started coming to terms with many things he had pushed aside, but it wasn't until he saw the tombstone again, that he realized what the truth was.

Remembering his Florentine, he thanked Fiora for the decades of happiness he had known at her side, that only now he had learned to acknowledge.

"I hope you can forgive me, my golden flower," he said, the dialect returning to him more and more with each word he uttered. "But I'll have you know, that while I never told you the truth, I never lied either. This I only know now."

The main door's bolts clanked and echoed through the church, startling him. Someone came early to prepare the temple for the first rites of the day. Making a motion with his hand, he created a portal to Kamar-Taj and stepped through it, leaving the white, marble tomb behind him forever.

Chapter Text

One of the things he loved about being able to summon a portal was that he was no longer stuck in Midgard or the Yggdrassi l system. Suddenly, and in an instant, he could visit all the planets he knew to begin his investigation.

Following the advice of the Ancient One, he decided to take a few hours off every now and then, and to spend that time with Jane when she was available. He also decided not to use any disguises, so he would have to go to quadrants where he wasn't known as Prince Loki of Asgard, but by any of his law-abiding aliases. This would allow him to be on the lookout for any information he could gather, should the Dark Elves decide to take refuge in one of those corners of the galaxy.

Jane was more receptive to the portal spell than he thought. Her initial surprise soon gave way to an innate curiosity about the physics behind it. He kept his explanation vague enough, so that someone with no knowledge of magic would think that was the complete theory, but had not enough information to reverse engineer the process. He never doubted Jane's honesty, but he didn't know how eager SHIELD would be to extract information from her. Keeping her in the dark was for her own good.

"I owe you a dinner," he said. "After all you have done for me."

"Where?" she laughed. "You said you had to keep a low profile. Anyway, you look thinner in person, if that was possible. What did they do to you? We can order some takeaway and stay here, you know?"

"It would be a bit suspicious if you ordered for five people when you are supposed to be alone."

"Wait... five people?"

"Magic consumes a lot of energy," he shrugged. "And I just woke up. This would be my breakfast."

"Okay," she seemed a bit befuddled, but she agreed to his plan, nonetheless. "Restaurant it is, then."

That night he took Jane to Huneka, a peaceful planet on the other side of the galaxy. More specifically, to one of its four moons, Huneka 2, where they had built a tourist resort with all the needed amenities, including an observation deck which served as its main attraction. Stargazing without an atmosphere was a dangerous dream for Midgardians, but not for many people in other systems.

Jane found it incredibly hard to contain her enthusiasm. The only disappointment was the fact that she couldn't understand anyone when they arrived.

"Don't worry," Loki said as he took her hand. "We will sort that out soon."

He led her into what appeared to be the dining area, not much different from an ordinary restaurant on Earth, except there seemed to be partitions for those species that required special treatment for physical, cultural or simply privacy reasons.

A creature that resembled like a cross between a small giraffe and a cat approached them, probably the head waiter. After bowing to each of them, Loki exchanged some words Jane couldn't understand and the creature led them into a separate area that looked like a cloakroom.

"Where are we?"

"I told him your translator is broken," Loki explained.

"You have translators?"

"You can't expect everyone to learn all the million dialects that are out there, can you?" he laughed. "I'll help you install it."

The head waiter returned with a small box, which he gave to Loki, bowed again and retired.

"This is a microcomputer," Loki explained, holding the open box. There was a very small, round, beige coloured gizmo inside. "It has an encyclopaedic translator for all the registered languages of both our local group and Andromeda's. Installation is very simple and safe. Once attached, it burrows inside the skin, disappears from sight and connects to your auditory nerves. It will translate in real time what is being said to you from any language you don't know."

"But it only translates what others say? Not what I say?"

"They understand you because they all wear one."

"Could I take it out?"

"Yes. You could, although you would need the help of another person who knows what to do. Besides, it's undetectable to Midgardian scanning machines."

She still seemed dubious, so Loki decided to press his point even further.

"I have no problem translating everything for you, but suppose you have to go somewhere where I'm not allowed to, or we get separated by accident. I'll watch over you, but you have to give me some guarantee that you will be able to fend for yourself to some extent."

She seemed convinced and agreed to install it. He asked her to pull her hair back so he could reach behind her ear.

"This one is the latest model," he said, brushing back some stray hairs from her neck. "It comes in every skin tone known in the galaxies and it's completely undetectable. You have no idea how nervous I was when they scanned my head right after you ran me over," he chuckled, applying the translator to her skin and pressing lightly. "This will sting a bit."

It did, but not as much as she thought. Suddenly what she thought was music coming from another room was the rumour of voices, speaking in perfect English.

"I see it works," he laughed, looking at her expression.

"But... how?"

"Do you understand me?"

"Well yes, you speak English."

"Not now. I'm speaking in Galukian."

Indeed, the movement of his lips didn't match the sounds he was making.

"Wait..." she frowned. "If the translator does all the work, how come you can speak anything but your language?"

"Because I'm not supposed to," he smiled mischievously. "Odin never agreed to have these devices in our system, so I had to procure one for myself when I could," he tapped the skin behind his right ear. "Learning how to communicate with other cultures is an important part of our education, but sometimes this can come in handy. You are lucky to speak one of the most popular languages on your planet," he added. "Otherwise we would have had to spun a little story for you."

Dinner was far more entertaining than she had expected. Jane appreciated being able to understand the lyrics of the songs playing in the background, or what the other people said around them. Although she was a bit shocked at the content of some of the conversations.

"Um... that... lady?" she spoke in a low voice. "She said she didn't know how they allowed bipeds in this place."

Loki shrugged.

"If it were up to her, no one would be allowed hear her."

"Wait, you know her?"

"Everyone here knows her," he smiled mischievously. "She's been quite polite since the incident. One fine evening she was rude to the wrong person and..." he waved his fingers in the air. "Some valuable cutlery made its way into her purse, to be found by security at the door."

Dinner went on without a hitch. Right before they served dessert, however, Jane suddenly fell silent. When Loki asked her if everything was all right, she blushed.

"I don't mean to pry," she began slowly. "But I just realized, you were supposed to be dead and now you said you were going to pay for all this. Won't they notice back at home? Well, I... I have no idea how your banking system works."

Loki smiled, but didn't laugh.

"No one will notice anything," he reassured her. "You see, each of my identities has their own bank account, since I learned to earn my own keep a long time ago, and that gives me all the freedom I want."

There was not a single lie in that statement. His stints as a smuggler and thief for hire had earned him enough income to live comfortably, but that was only part of the fortune he had scattered across the Milky Way and part of Andromeda. Betting, selling 'relics' to gullible, wealthy individuals who wouldn't miss the money spent on fake artifacts, his stints as a cat burglar, or as the hunter who would recover what he had previously stolen... His activities during his brief years in Victorian England were but the culmination of a long process in which he had honed his skills throughout the galaxy, and was finally able to use them without resorting to his magic powers. There was a whole universe of people with full purses and empty brains ready for the picking. A bit of charm and sweet talk most of the time, and no one ever dared accuse him of foul play.

He glossed over those parts for Jane. She was far from stupid, though, and frowned at the notion of making a fortune so easily and honestly. He made the point by reminding her that he had spent nearly a thousand years amassing small fortunes here and there, just as he had done in Midgard, and she seemed satisfied with the explanation.

After a very entertaining dinner, Loki and Jane went to the observation deck, but first he stopped in front of a very strange machine with a large oblong mark painted in the centre of a panel, and a dispenser tray underneath. He put his face in front of the mark and waited. Something beeped and flashed inside the panel and, after a few seconds, an object fell into the dispenser tray.

"Personalized shades," he explained. "This machine measures how much of the light spectrum your eyes naturally detect, and provides a way for you to perceive each wavelength without burning your corneas."

The observation deck had been built like a massive amphitheater. What Jane thought was a gigantic black screen was actually the windows, which were darkened outside show times.

Now, Loki hadn't mentioned on purpose that Huneka revolved around a sun in the vicinity of a red supergiant which, in turn, was being slowly consumed by a black hole.

He couldn't stop smiling when he saw her gawking at the spectacle before her, when the big windows were finally unveiled. They had been holding hands, and her grip tightened so hard it grew to be almost uncomfortable.

"What..." she whispered, out of breath.

"Beautiful, isn't it?"

She nodded. He was startled when he saw tears rolling down her cheeks, but she quickly wiped them away and smiled back at him.

"Thank you, Loki."

There wasn't any other anomaly during the rest of the evening; he thought her tears might have been caused by having felt overwhelmed, which would have been understandable. After that she was all smiles until he left her at home.

Their first little outing had been a success, Loki thought.

More outings would follow when her agenda was clear and there was no danger of SHIELD suspecting anything. One never knew what you could eavesdrop during conversations among the wealthy and powerful, he said. Although, according to Jane, trying to find any information regarding their galaxy quadrant on the other side of the Milky Way seemed to her like deep-cleaning your apartment the night before a final. He still defended his strategy with many arguments, but her poorly concealed smile suggested she was just nodding along to avoid an argument.

xxxxXX-0-XXxxxx

But high society and pleasant places weren't the only sources of information. The underbelly of the galaxy was ripe with information for those with a keen ear.

However, he felt his trainign wasn't progressing as quickly as he would have liked, and he shared his concerns with the Ancient One.

She seemed to ponder over his words before offering him a solution, though she made him swear that he would never tell anyone about the spell involved. His schedule would also change: Instead of training every single day, he would be forced to rest a certain number of hours between training sessions.

The Ancient One had observed Loki's dedication which bordered on obsession, and feared he would eventually break his body in the process.

To the other Masters, the Sorceress Supreme's lessons with Loki went as usual: They would see them go to the training grounds and emerge after a normal period of time, but Loki would look exceptionally battered, tired and strangely disoriented about the passage of time. No one paid much attention, taking it as normal that she had decided to give him intensive training every few days rather than a daily session.

However, Karl, always mindful of new recruits, regardless of background or age, approached Loki and politely inquired about his progress.

The Ancient One had warned Loki about Karl. Despite his noble nature, his mind was too dogmatic to understand that, sometimes, rules must be bent or broken. Both Loki and the Sorcerer Supreme agreed on this, so they both conspired and spun the same white lie about Loki's martial training.

The truth was that Loki was undergoing a process that was as excruciating as it was dangerous. The Sorcerer Supreme had spoken to him of a spell that would summon the spirit image of any creature of the caster's choosing into their presence. She also offered him the possibility of trapping him and the summoned creature in a controlled 'time bubble', where time would pass faster than normal, allowing a day's worth of training to be condensed in a few hours or even minutes.

As days went by, the Sorcerer Supreme watched his progress closely, trying to keep his obsession in check, especially in the early days when he was still regaining his full strength. Sometimes she had to put her foot down and stop the training when his wounds became too obvious. Still, he didn't give up, and little by little he was able to hold his own against stronger foes.

Chapter Text

Loki was no stranger to mingling with questionable folks. As much as he loved high society and the luxury it provided, he missed the thrill that the seediest parts of each planet could offer. Through the years he had gone on solo adventures outside Yggdrasil, where he had met allies and enemies alike, and he had used a great variety of personas and disguises, with mixed results. But each time an identity didn't yield the desired results, he would "retire" that persona, ensuring the ones who wanted it dead in the first place felt satisfied and considered the matter settled.

One of his favorite personas went by the name of Joman Vellis, an adventurous Javelan whose homeworld had been obliterated after a nuclear holocaust, many generations ago, which had made their entire empire dissolve almost overnight.

Now Javelans wandered through space looking for any way to survive, becoming an easy prey for the unscrupulous as they had no government, army or society to back them up. A proud, yet warlike and cruel race, they were condemned to extinction a long time ago, while the few survivors languished in brothels or wasted their lives as outlaws and bounty hunters.

The first place he visited as Joman was an asteroid in the belt of Suncax 34, a red giant which had already swallowed half its system and burnt all life from the remaining planets. His disguises had always been meticulous, but he was particularly proud of this one. The Javelans had dark, red skin and black, bony growths protruding from their foreheads that curved back over their skulls. They eyes had barely no distinction between sclera and iris, nor a visible pupil, and their color ranged from pearl white to jet black, with shades of ice blue or bright gold in between. Loki had chosen bright gold for Joman, who also liked to adorn his "horns" with golden trinkets and chains.

They already knew Joman there, so when he entered the tavern there was a brief glance in his direction and a quick resuming of whatever conversation had been interrupted, but he noticed the atmosphere was tense. He asked for a drink and sat down at the bar.

The owner was an old Ager named Zavir, a burly, hairless creature which pinkish-white skin he had to shield from light sources. His pale eyes looked at him with mild surprise.

"I'll be shot and quartered," he grunted. "I thought you was dead!"

"As you see, I'm very much alive," Joman smiled. "My drink?"

Zavir served him without another word.

"Slow day?" Joman asked, seeing that the place was almost empty.

The barman chuckled humorlessly.

"Where the hell have you been?" he grunted again. "Haven't you heard? People are disappearing."

"Nova Corps?"

"Wish I knew. They are taking them, just like that. They go on a job and they are gone."

One of the patrons overheard them talking, and turned to them.

"I know a guy who got away," he said. "But you wouldn't take his word to be true. Guy lies as he breathes," he paused, looking at Joman. "You sure you want to be involved?"

He shrugged.

"Let's say I'm intrigued."

"He's a Ravager, from Yondu's clan," the bandit smirked. "S'pose you had dealings with him in the past, right? You know where to find him, though I dunno if he would be happy to see you."

Joman didn't answer, finished his drink and got out of the canteen.

It was true that he had crossed Yondu's path more than once, and that he wasn't sure if the last time they parted ways it had been in amicable terms, but he needed the information and was ready to risk a fistfight if needed.

However, the first thing he needed was his old ship. Using portals was all well and good, but Yondu's clan lived in a ship that was constantly on the move, and trying to pinpoint a portal spell to a destination that travelled above a certain speed could prove disastrous.

He had left his ship in the Realm of Niflheim, the Dead World. Heimdall's vision didn't worry him, but unexpected visitors with more curiosity than brains did. Niflheim was a barren planet of ice and wind, similar to Jotunheim, but practically inhabitable due to it's ever changing and hostile climate.

He sighed in relief when he saw the cave he had chosen as hideout hadn't collapsed. Standing before the vessel, he looked at it, remembering days gone by.

It was an old model, its lines unassuming and simple, yet slick and with a certain elegance. He had been offered other models, and he had the money to purchase them, but he had grown fond of this spaceship, of all things. When asked about its name, he said it didn't have one, 'no need to get attached to it', he used to tell people.

Loki spent several days cleaning and fine-tuning it, making several trips to repair shops and junkyards for spare parts and fuel. After two long weeks of engine work and cleaning, his ship was in pristine condition and ready to fly, as he decided to do one night.

The engine started with a satisfying rumble. All systems were in order, as he saw in the screens while he took off against the wind and cruised the grey skies of Niflheim for a test fly. Gaining altitude over the clouds, fighting against the heavy, icy rain pummeling against the ship's hull, he was met with a sea of pale waves swirling under the stars, converging and parting and, in some places, flashing as storms raged under their surface.

Then suddenly Niflheim's sun appeared to his left, bathing the sea of clouds under him with a pale, silver light, and he wished Jane was next to him to see it.

As he reached escape speed, his mind wandered to other scenarios. What if, after the war with the Dark Elves was over, he remained in space? That life wasn't too difficult for him, after all. Amassing a small fortune was child's play, so becoming actually wealthy shouldn't pose a problem for him. Then he could charm his way into the most influential circles, and he would essentially be a prince again, but wherever he chose.

He wasn't prone to let his imagination get the better of him when planning his future, but that was a life he could see himself living.

But for now he had other more pressing matters to tend to. The path to the nearest jump point passed near Vanaheim's solar system and, as he approached, he saw a small fleet of warships patrolling their quadrant. He shook his head, bitterly realizing that what the Vanir considered their pride and joy in space technology, paled when compared with what a humble merchant could hire as security for his own cargo ships out there.

He steered his own ship away from the patrol, taking a roundabout way to the jump point. Far enough for them not to see him with the naked eye, for Loki knew their systems weren't powerful enough to detect him.

If the Dark Elves returned, it wold be like facing a dragon with a wooden sword.

He had to move, and not only with his space ship.

Chapter Text

Locating Yondu's hideout wouldn't be easy. Instead of keeping a base on a planet or asteroid, Ravager clans had their headquarters on motherships to keep traveling and avoid authorities for as long as they could.

He would often disappear for several days in a row from Kamar-Taj once spring came to their lands, as he got involved on several jobs. The state of the criminal world was worse than what they had described to him, with Ravagers actively hiding from sight.

But the worst thing were the stories that had started spreading like wildfire.

Refugees and displaced people were a common occurrence in any conflict, as the Kree-Xandar War had been going on for a thousand years. There was talk of planets being invaded and half their population wiped out, something that had been going on for a standard generation (which was slightly longer than a human one). Not a quarter, not sixty percent, exactly half the population, with no distinction between military, nobles or commoners. But whenever he asked about who, why or how, he was met with gestures of indifference. Outlaws don't care much about any suffering that isn't their own, unless it benefits them.

He didn't neglect his other investigations, though, and he took Jane to see other spectacles of nature whenever he could, like the crystal towers of Yineh, the purple lakes of Huta, the Labyrinth Nebula, the Double Pulsar X475-2 or, as they were commonly named, the Dancing Sisters.

It was rewarding to visit those places with someone who could appreciate them. He still used these escapades to gather more intel, with Jane's help, who showed to be an excellent companion, able to follow his cues whenever they had to spin a lie about their identities and backgrounds. One night he had jokingly suggested they could say they were newlyweds or an eloped couple. Hours later, in his room at Kamar-Taj, Loki would blame that silly remark on his drinking, perhaps not enough to be fully inebriated, but enough to make him loose his tongue more than he wanted.

"Fine, it will be fun!" she smiled at him.

Those five words sobered him up in an instant, since he had expected her to laugh it off. From that day on he was much more careful about what and how much he drank.

One night they boarded an interplanetary cruise, a tourist attraction which was very popular in many planets. That time they would be visiting a star nursery in a well known nebula.

As they took a stroll along one of the many decks after dinner, Jane commented that, while on a trip to the restroom, she had overheard a group of golden skinned ladies speaking about "new genetic aberrations" in the universe and, judging by their description, she thought they were talking about the Dark Elves.

"Could you describe them?"

"Er... aside from golden? Very elegant, tall, fit... they looked like taken out from a magazine cover."

"Did they regard everything and everyone as if it disgusted them?"

"They made me feel as if I was back in high school," Jane said, making a face, then she looked down to her dress. "I know I'm not a top model but I thought this dress was elegant."

"It is and you look perfect. They just think every single creature in the universe besides their race is a genetic aberration. Where were they?"

They were on the deck, since the ship had stopped for the passengers to admire the nebula. Loki took Jane's hand and they both walked in the direction she pointed.

While they made their way through the crowd, Loki briefly filled Jane in on the few things she needed to know about the Sovereign race: they were haughty, arrogant and considered themselves the most perfected beings in the universe. That last claim could be backed up by the fact that they were indeed genetically 'perfect', being an artificial race created by a biotechnology corporation, with each individual specially designed for a specific purpose within their society.

Knowing that Jane's strength wasn't biology, he didn't want to bore her, but the more he talked, the less enthusiastic she seemed about meeting them.

"So," she said in the end. "High school popular girls. Got it."

One thing about the Sovereign race that Loki liked was that they were among the easiest people to spot. Not only because of their unusual skin color, but also because other people gave them a wide berth. There was always free space around them.

They slowed their pace as they approached, as if they were just wandering aimlessly, until they stood among the other passengers, with a clear view of the golden group.

A group of party-goers detached from the main crowd, drinking and singing like some other travelers did, only these ones stood uncomfortably close to the Sovereigns. The haughty, golden people tried to ignore them at first, until one of the party-goers, tall and wearing something similar to a hood, approached one of the women and started flirting with her.

"Shouldn't we...?" Jane whispered.

"Observe," Loki whispered back. "This is the 'Damsel in distress' tactic."

One of the Sovereign men intervened and warned the drunkard to step back, but it was only a verbal warning. The drunkard became aggressive and the Sovereign man took a step back as the drunkard threatened to punch him.

"My cue," said Loki, letting go of Jane's hand and strutting towards the rowdy group.

Jane tried to grab him to keep him away from them, but he was faster and she had no choice but to watch in horror as he confidently walked to what she thought would be an ugly situation.

Loki spoke some conciliatory words to the drunkards who, far from being appeased, became more aggressive. He dodged with ease a punch from the one who had been harassing the golden lady, to them throw a single, powerful hook to his stomach. The drunk doubled down in pain with a gasp, as his friends froze. Many passengers turned their heads towards them, but since most had witnessed what the troublemakers had been doing, they all went back to their business, some of them laughing at that rabble being finally taught a lesson.

He shoved the drunkard's limp body towards his friends, who grabbed him and made to run away, but before they could move, Loki made a movement with his hand and they disappeared in a shower of green sparks. However, before disappearing, the drunkard's hood had fallen backwards to reveal an extremely pale skin, long white hair and finely chiseled facial features.

Loki then turned to the Sovereign and bowed in silence, to then turn away and walk back to Jane. The man who had tried to defend his companion called for him, and Loki winked at the human, extending his hand towards her. She followed his cue and took it, gazing at him as adoringly as she could.

"My apologies for the waiting," he told the golden man. "I rarely go anywhere without my wife."

Jane noticed that, far from acknowledging them, the entire group save for the man turned their backs on them and kept watching the nebula, quietly talking among themselves.

"I only wanted to express my... ah, gratitude," the golden man started. He was trying his hardest to be nice, but to Jane it seemed like each word hurt him. "We the Sovereign People don't usually mingle with those of... uh... such unorthodox ways of acting in public."

"It's an honor to have helped your companion, sir," Loki answered. "However, it's not the first time I had to deal with such low-lives. I was just talking to my dear wife about that: how strange it is that the organizers see fit to let that rabble board a ship graced with the presence of the Sovereign people."

At those words, Jane noticed how the ladies had gone quiet and, despite not looking at them, she knew they were eavesdropping.

"Pray tell," Loki kept talking. "It is said that your race has the gift to analyze the genetic makeup of all you come in contact with. How accurate is that rumor?"

"Quite accurate for those of us tasked with that role," the Sovereign man puffed up his chest, for the first time looking genuinely pleased to speak to them.

"I've also heard rumors of people like that drunkard having appeared quite recently. Have you ever seen someone like him?"

"I have," said a lady behind the man, who bowed deeply as he stepped back to make way for her.

She was the most statuesque of them all. As tall as Loki, slender and graceful, her perfectly sculpted features betrayed no emotion, yet her manner was polite. Her robes were crafted from a golden material, with silver and crystal accents which enhanced her figure; a cloak of white fur covered her shoulders, with a high collar accentuating her long, graceful neck. She was the most beautiful woman Jane had ever seen.

"The Sovereign citizens don't usually come in contact with other races," she said. Her voice was pleasant and perfectly modulated. "Though those of higher rank like me have to travel abroad to maintain trading relationships and alliances. May I ask what is your interest in this new race?"

"Let us say," Loki's smile became slightly less conciliatory. "That they pose a threat to many worlds I know and that I need to know about their whereabouts. I'm interested on where did you see them."

The woman made a gesture with her hand and her companions walked away, out of hearing distance. They looked more like an entourage than a group of friends traveling together.

"That is a tall order," the golden woman said. "And you must be a dedicated hunter, to stage this scene just to gain an audience with me."

"The Sovereign race is known for their wisdom, and among them, the High Priestess is the wisest of them all," said Loki.

Jane went pale as she felt her knees almost give out. When Loki spoke, she noticed a brooch made of gold and a pearly material that held the woman's cloak: an insignia of her station.

A thin, almost imperceptible smile altered the High Priestess' impassive face, yet her next words were for Jane.

"Does my guessing surprise you?" she said, amused by her reaction. "It was an impressive display of magic by your husband, but I was gifted with a no less extraordinary gift of sight. Still," she turned to Loki. "I like your boldness, so I will humour you. The last time I saw the creatures you seek was in Knowhere. Their leader had a tense encounter with Tivan, which I'm afraid would have ended in conflict if I hadn't stepped into the museum when I did. I don't know what that creature sought, but he was hideous to look at. All I know is that Tivan was quite agitated afterwards, but wouldn't say anything about it."

"Where did they go?"

She shook her head.

"I don't know. If you want to know more you should have an audience with Tivan himself."

Loki steeled himself and smiled politely.

"You have my thanks."

"Are you Asgardian, per chance?"

Her golden eyes danced in amusement, noticing his confusion.

"My eyes never deceive me," she elaborated, her golden irises fixed on Loki. "You are Asgardian, but something else that my eyes cannot see, as if they had muddled any trace of your ancestry. I trust you will understand my curiosity. Your wife..." she turned her head towards Jane. "A Terran. How extraordinary it is to see one of your kind out here, and stranger still to see such mixing of bloods. I hope," she said, this time to Loki, all her cordiality turned to icy severity. "That your people knows how to purge any imperfection that might arise from this union."

"I'm sure you are eager to get back to enjoying your leisure time," Loki interrupted hastily, squeezing Jane's hand. "We won't keep you any longer. Have a safe journey, High Priestess."

Jane forced a smile and bid her farewell, but when they were well away and into the crowd's he slumped against Loki.

"Do you want to go home?"

"Yes, please."

Jane fell tiredly on her sofa as soon as they crossed the portal.

"I didn't know it would affect you so much," Loki started as an apology.

"Oh, that? Don't worry, it was fun. It's just that... that lady speaking of genetic purity," she made a face. "Promise next time we will avoid them."

Loki chuckled and took her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.

"Isn't using your illusions a bit risky?" she asked. "They disappear the moment someone touches them."

"The Sovereign people never touch anyone, not from their own species, and much less from others. It was a sure bet."

"Too risky," she pursed her lips. "You look like you just saw a ghost. Is that Tivan guy? Want me to go with you as moral support?"

"I would never take you to that place."

"Is it that bad?"

"Imagine a den of thieves, outlaws and smugglers, then imagine that rabble with money to burn and the services they would demand. Now add a crime lord to govern them who also likes collecting things, be them objects or people. That, but worse. However, there are still many other leads I can follow," he said. "But for tonight, you might want to sleep, and I have some matters to tend to."

She didn't let go of his hand.

His other hand stopped mid motion, about to open a portal back to Kamar-Taj.

Those matters could wait a few hours more.

Chapter Text

Spring was coming to an end when SHIELD decided to send Jane on a field mission. She would lead in investigation involving magnetic anomalies across the British Islands.

From that moment on she would live in a different time zone, which made their schedules clash. Loki's training regime had started wearing him down, and he needed to rest if he wanted to keep his focus, but he didn't want to show any weakness in front of Jane. Thankfully, it was the scientist the one to step up and decide they shouldn't see each other in person as often as they did; her fear of SHIELD discovering Loki overpowered any other desire she might have.

Despite his own wants, he welcomed being able to focus on his task. And so, one night he decided to open a portal to Knowehere and visit Tivan.

Knowhere was as dirty and sordid as he remembered. Not that he minded a den of thieves, but he despised the one lording over this one.

Gaining entry into the Collector's museum wasn't a problem for him, since Tivan claimed the prince would always be welcome. Being able to leave was what concerned Loki.

He made his best to keep a straight face when stepping into the Collector's realm. Despite being a wide space, Tivan managed to make it appear cramped and suffocating, more a jail than a museum.

"Loki of Asgard," the man proclaimed with a broad smile, opening his arms theatrically. "What a strange honor to see you unmasked. Have you reconsidered my offer?"

"I have no desire to donate my corpse to your collection. I have come here to negotiate."

"If you want a vendor," he pointed to the exit. "The street is full of them."

"It's information I seek. About the Svartálfar."

The smile on Tivan's face faltered. He sent his servant away, with strict orders to not let anyone disturb them.

"Make your offer and I might consider it," he said, once she was gone.

"I know one Malekith came to pay you a visit, and that you weren't very pleased with it," Loki pushed. "I won't beat the bush with this matter. I need to know what he was looking for."

While Loki spoke, Tivan walked towards a side table where he stashed several bottles with liquors in them. Choosing one, he poured himself a generous glass of a thick, dark green drink.

"I don't usually speak about my acquaintances to others," Tivan said after taking a gulp from his glass, still not looking at Loki.

"Was he seeking a substance called Aether ?"

Tivan's eyes flashed at him.

"He came to our doorstep with the same demand," Loki clarified. "We sent him away."

"With half his face melted?"

"The face was Bor's doing. Tell me, where is the Aether?"

The Collector frowned.

"You are asking the wrong question, boy."

Loki hesitated, then it dawned on him.

"What is the Aether?"

"There," Tivan smiled at him. "Much better. I'm surprised you didn't know it existed. It's part of your family's history."

"Communication is not our strong point. King Bor took the secret to the grave."

Tivan sighed tiredly.

"I swear, the number of times the righteous and moralists have kept secrets that could have saved whole systems..." he rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I can give you a free History lesson, so you can find your way around, but the rest will cost you."

"What?"

"I never said I was either righteous or moralist. I have my priorities, as you surely do. Interested in the History lesson or not?"

Loki had to suppress a gesture of frustration, but signaled him to continue.

Tivan took his time, but he spoke about the creation of the Universe, which was vastly different from what Loki had been taught as a child. Before the Universe came to be, there existed six Singularities, one for each aspect of existence itself. Once the spark of life was ignited and the Universe exploded into being, those singularities condensed in physical form, in the shape of powerful stones that were later scattered and lost. Such was the strength of those gems that only beings of extraordinary power could wield them, destroying those who were too weak and too foolish to harness their power.

"The Aether is one of such singularities," Tivan added, his eyes lost in the distance. "Malekith discovered the Reality Stone and altered its physical properties, liquefying it so he could absorb it. It could only be performed under very specific circumstances that came to pass only at the end of his long war with your people."

"And then King Bor snatched it from his grasp," Loki finished the tale with the only truthful piece of information he had. "What were those conditions?"

"For some reason the Reality Stone was affected by the conjunction of your nine worlds. That was the moment Malekith was waiting for."

The Conjunction was a natural, yet unusual phenomenon that only happened every five thousand years. It was said the Yggdrasil system would be unreliable to travel through for a few days and that, until the Conjunction was over, using the Bifrost would be very dangerous.

Loki's mind was reeling. As the Collector described the crystallized singularities, the pieces suddenly fell into place. He had to fight a jolt of nausea when the details of one of the stones matched the Tesseract, something SHIELD was now studying and playing with.

"Imagine my surprise when I found the man himself on my doorstep," Tivan chuckled mirthlessly when he finished his tale.

"Could you tell me what payment do you require for the rest of the information?"

"You already paid, my prince," he said, barely restraining a smile.

"I don't know..."

"I know you already came into contact with at least one of those stones," he said. "You are nicknamed the Trickster God, and yes, you are good, but still too young to fool me. Your pretty eyes betray you."

"Why helping me?"

"As you know, I'm a businessman first and foremost. I'm far older than I look, older than the Allfather if you can believe it. I have known Malekith's exploits and I know the Universe is a better place without him. I also know the Aether would be safer in a secure place like this," he waved his hand around him. "Well kept, well cared for, and never used."

"How can I know you will never use it?"

"Why would I?" Tivan laughed. "I have all the power I want and my life is exactly how I like it. I love collecting things, but not using them. I like war, that is true, especially when it happens far from here and I can profit from it, but a war to destroy the Universe as we know it? We can't have that. I cannot give you information about Malekith's whereabouts for I don't know them, but I can offer you a safe deposit for such dangerous item once you locate and secure it. What do you say?"

Instead of answering right away, Loki paced around the space for some moments, looking around. All above them were living beings languishing in their crystal cages, or preserved carcases, strange artifacts, weapons, statues of long lost civilizations...

"The payment is retrieving the Stone for you," he said all of a sudden. "Without spending a single unit hiring a hunter."

Tivan smiled.

"I would say this deal benefits both parties. I get an extraordinary addition to my collection, and you get rid of a dangerous item."

"Very well," Loki sighed dramatically. "It's a deal."

He smiled internally, for he had also received invaluable information and a place where to secure the Aether.

xxxxXX-0-X X xxxx

When he returned to Kamar-Taj the first thing he did was calling Jane, despite being midnight where she lived. The urgency in his voice dispelled her sleepiness in a few seconds.

"Have you come into contact with the Tesseract?"

"What... no! Why are you asking?"

"I have been investigating, I cannot tell you much right now, but it's far more dangerous than we though. Whatever they tell you and Darcy, whatever they threaten you two with, never come near it, understood? Tell Erik exactly what I told you."

"Okay, okay, you are starting to scare me."

"I promise, this will make sense some day, just give me some time."

He wished her good night and hung up. The next call was for Stark, to whom he relied the same message: Do not approach the Tesseract.

The next step was visiting the Sorcerer Supreme's study.

She received him with her accustomed cordiality, but her smile faltered when she saw his troubled expression, and disappeared completely when Loki mentioned the Stones described by the Collector.

"You knew of them, right?"

"I would have mentioned them earlier," she said, accusingly. "But you hid your knowledge of the Aether's existence from me. Had you come here for help first instead of gallivanting around the galaxy you wouldn't have lost such precious months."

"That doesn't matter..."

"It does! Of course it does!" she exclaimed, raising her voice for the first time since they met. "The Infinity Stones are not to be trifled with. Having them in our planet will surely attract unwanted attention."

"Them?" Loki frowned. "When did I mention more than one?"

She set her mouth in a thin line.

"Our most important relic," she said. "The one I have been using to help you in your training, the Eye of Agamotto, who was the first Sorcerer Supreme, hosts the Time Stone. That stone is capital to keep our mystical defenses against beings from other dimensions. If word spreads that there is any Infinity Stone on Earth, greedy hunters will come to plunder the planet and they will eventually find our relic. According to your tale they already know the Tesseract is here. It's a fact they will come back, maybe in full force this time, given that subtlety didn't work before. I don't even want to think they might be hunting down all the Stones."

"What happens then?"

The Ancient One shook her head.

"No one can know. Anything, I suppose. Imagine harnessing the power granted by the materialization of every aspect of our universe. Only the most ancient and powerful races can even hope to use one without being destroyed," she took the Eye, which she now wore around her neck every day, on her hands. "But suppose someone can create a way to use not one without being disintegrated, but all six."

Loki said nothing, his mind racing. Whoever was behind Malekith already knew the Tesseract was in Midgard, while the Dark Elf was on a goose chase, searching for the Reality Stone.

"The only thing I can do for now is alert those who would defend Midgard," said Loki. "That's all we can do: muster our defenses. We don't know where our enemy is, or his numbers, because they could have been waiting all this time for reinforcements."

She sighed.

"I understand. Please excuse my outburst," she smiled tiredly. "The fate of the universe stands upon the edge of a knife, and my eyes can't see further."

He frowned, puzzled.

"My time is coming to an end," she said with sadness. "But I cannot step down yet, not until my successor is finally revealed to me, and even that knowledge is now veiled to my eyes. My power wanes, and so I must reserve it for when my true challenge comes. Don't look so troubled now," she added. "I still can fulfill my duties, though my foresight is all but forfeited."

xxxxXX-0-X X xxxx

Loki still didn't know where the Aether was, but suspected of his location. His conversation with the Collector had only been a ruse to see how much information he had.

Since Bor had used the Bifrost to snatch the Aether away from Malekith's hands, it couldn't have been sent outside of the Nine Realms.

Now, from the Nine Realms, Nidavellir was a space station where the Dwarves forged weapons, an unsuitable place to hide such a dangerous item; Muspellheim and Jotunheim, though subjugated, were enemy territory and out of the question for obvious reasons; Svartalfheim was a radioactive wasteland, the Dark Elven realm, and the very soil they stood in when the event happened, so that one was out too. It wasn't in Asgard either, that much he knew, so it would leave Alfheim, Vanaheim, Niflheim...

And Midgard.

He didn't share this reasoning with anyone, not even the Ancient One. His intention wasn't finding the Aether, but preventing anyone from doing so, if possible. Acquiring it and sending it to Tivan was the last resource. He doubted Malekith knew how the Bifrost worked because Bor never had any need for outside help, thus him only using it inside Yggdrasil would seem logical, and the time they spent occupying Asgard was useless, since the Bifrost was destroyed and they had no means to access the main computer at the Palace. He doubted the Dark Elf could gather much information elsewhere, since he didn't seem to want any alliances.

Probably Odin had already reached the same conclusion and had been building the defenses throughout the Nine Realms. That was Loki's strongest hope.

He tried pushing the nagging feeling that something was off to the back of his mind; but he couldn't shake away the notion that he was overlooking a key piece of information, then reasoned that this kind of solitude was undermining his spirits and his mind. Whenever he had sought to be on his own in the past, he only had to mind himself and it was for his own amusement. Now he felt the weight of the Nine Realms over his shoulders, and it was slowly draining his energy away.

Only time would tell if his decisions had been the correct ones.

Chapter Text

Crilack was a small planet orbiting a yellow giant in one of the most unremarkable sectors in our galaxy. Its insignificance, its distance from any mayor trade route and its lack of sentient life were important factors to consider, depending on what kind of settlement one had in mind.

It was perfect for a biotech compound, as one Company decided thousands of years ago. Once they built the facilities they realized that, aside from their research about new drugs and other treatments for diseases, the planet was perfect for their other, less known, lines of R&D, like bioweapons or synthetic viruses and bacteria.

That second line of business was, of course, against the law, but there was little to none willingness to enforce certain norms, especially if most governments broke them.

This practice went on for many years, and business was good for that Company, until a war broke between two planets on the Ryla system. The details of which political and social circumstances led to it didn't matter as much as what followed during the final campaign. At the start of the conflict, both sides had contracted the services of Crilack's scientists to create a bioweapon, specifically a virus designed to attack the rival faction's DNA, which they intended to use as a very last resort. Or so they claimed.

The scientists warned them, however, that because both sides stemmed from the same common ancestor, there was a small possibility the bioweapon they intended to use could affect both sides.

Neither government listened, either claiming that such parentage was either "heresy" according to their sacred doctrine, or "scientifically impossible", according to their own research. The only thing both parties recited almost word for word was that they were the superior race.

Crilack's scientist, having issued their warning and seeing that it fell on deaf ears, shrugged and set to work as directed.

The war raged on, devastating the entire system for several years and blocking trading routes to other systems. Attempts at peace talks from neutral parties were brushed aside, threats from more powerful governments were ignored, for there was no desire from either side to make peace, but to erase any traces of their enemies.

Thus it came the fateful day were one side released the bioweapon. Years later it was finally known who did it first, but by that time it was already late. As the Company scientists had predicted, there was a small percentage of risk for the attacking side and it came to pass. Unfortunately, a small leak on the containment tanks was enough for one individual to become infected. Symptoms were mild at first, brushed aside as a common, non-threatening illness, not even worthy of a walk to the clinic.

Those who attacked first celebrated as the synthetic virus wiped out entire colonies overnight, and chaos and desperation spread between enemy lines faster than the virus itself. They tried to contain it, but it was already too late. Meanwhile, the attackers had a slow countdown already coursing through their veins, silent and unknown.

It was only when they tried to reap the fruits of their victory than their doom made itself known. The mild, mysterious illness had damaged important parts of their system, either killing the cells and atrophying the organs or making them multiply quickly and without control. The first deaths went unnoticed since the deceased had been old and already infirm, but when young, healthy individuals became gravely ill and died in a matter of days and later in a matter of hours, panic began to spread out among the population.

It was already too late. The entire race had been infected when they turned to Crilack's laboratories for a solution, and the scientists reminded them that the virus had been designed without a vaccine, according to a very specific clause in the contract.

The vengeful survivors intended to muster their forces to attack Crilack, but anarchy had already taken hold of their society, and their once orderly civilization collapsed in a brief, yet bloody dark age of barbarism, until either violence or illness erased any trace of them.

Trade routes reopened and newscasts from every system transmitted the official truth, that both sides had lost in a war of attrition. But governments sent parties to investigate in secret. Upon finding about the harrowing truth, they turned they eyes to Crilack. The scientists there reminded the accusers of not having any problem using their services in the past. Governments agreed on not pursuing further action if the bioweapon lines were closed immediately. Not too long after that, they carried out a legal reform that strictly banned the investigation, commerce and use of any bioweapon, on pain of very strict sanctions and the death penalty for anyone who instigated the use of such devices.

In Midgardian time, that happened millennia ago, when humans still wondered about the secrets of uncharted oceans and used the stars as guiding lights. Since then, the Ryla system lain devoid of any sign of sentient life. What had happened was considered ancient History, relegated to libraries and archives, but in the public conscience Ryla was still a cursed system, so not even outlaws dared to land on any of the planets.

Loki didn't know anything about that old war, or the virus, or who made it. He only knew that curses could be fought against, so one day, years ago, he set course towards one of the planets and landed there. There were few safer hideouts for one of his stashes.

However, this time he wouldn't use his spaceship, but a portal. The ruins were exactly as he had left them; the surface had been reclaimed by nature, vegetation and fauna turning the ruins of the disappeared civilization into their new home. There was a melancholic beauty to it all, despite everything.

Loki hadn't planned to use the stash he hid there, but Ryla was on the way to see the Ravagers and Loki had no time for a detour. Not after the message he received the previous day.

It was the Ravager who had escaped the Sváltalfar, from Yondu's clan.

"I know you are searching for me. I have information and a job for you if you are interested.

Star-Lord."

The current coordinates of his clan's whereabouts were attached to the message. Loki was always wary that every rendez-vous could be a trap, but he also made preparations for the most unfavorable situation.

In this case, it could involve paying Yondu a certain sum of money.

xxxxXX-0-XXxxxx

Visiting Yondu had been in his mind for several weeks since he finished repairing his ship, yet he was hesitant to do so.

The Ravager had a long memory, but Loki wasn't very sure about how accurate said memory could be.

The last time he allied himself with him as Joman, things went south pretty quickly because one of Yondu's new crew member. They could barely escape with their lives but, more importantly, they lost their loot. Loki was never sure who Yondu ended up blaming, and to the present day, Loki hoped it wasn't him.

That's why he brought with him the stash he had been hiding in Ryla, in case he couldn't appease Yondu with words.

He needed to speak with that underling they said had seen the Dark Elf fleet, however. Time kept running and he any lead was welcome.

"You got a lot of nerve coming here," Yondu spat. "You red-skinned, horned bastard. You cost me a fortune."

"As I see it, your only expense was on fuel."

The Centaurian's red eyes narrowed dangerously.

"The lead was yours! That rookie screwed up, but you turned tail and ran at the first sign of danger!"

"Like you all would have done!" Joman exclaimed. "You are alive, right? You made a couple works more and you compensated for it. I've been poking around, I know it. And you didn't pay me in the end, so we are even."

"Poking around, you say," Youndu snorted, making a face. You still owe me for running away in the middle of a job. It was in the contract and you will honor it."

The Centaurean whistled, and the cyber-implant in his head glowed red. Before he could react, Joman saw a red glitter in front of him, a red arrow aimed straight between his eyes.

"Pay up," Yondu ordered.

There was no escape, but no one could blame him for trying. After all, showing up on Yondu's doorstep, willing to pay as many units as Yondu wanted, would have been a sign of weakness, and there was no room for that in this job.

"Oh, for fuck's sake Yondu! What the hell are you doing?"

The voice came from behind him, but Joman couldn't move to see who it was.

"This scumbag owes me money for Lucrash," Yondu said to whoever had stepped into the room.

He heard quick, determined steps approaching from behind, and a hand snatching the arrow away from his face. Finally able to look at the newcomer, Joman had to hide his surprise at seeing a Midgardian, of all things, under Yondu's command.

"Isn't it enough that our people is disappearing? Now we start killing each other," the man spat to Yondu, handing the arrow to him, then he turned to Joman. "Just pay up. I have a job for you , remember?"

"Star-Lord, I presume?"

Yondu laughed.

"Again with that name, boy?"

The change in the Midgardian man happened in a microsecond. Suddenly his cheeks were red as he confronted Yondu.

"It's a good name, okay?" he protested before repeating to Joman. "Pay him and let's be done with all this."

Joman clicked his tongue in annoyance, but took a chip card out of his pocket and handed it to Yondu.

"No bank transfer, as you like it," he said to the Centaurean.

The blue skinned man took the chip, gave it a good look and smiled at him.

"Good we cleared that up," he said, then he turned towards the Midgardian. "You better share the earnings of this job, you hear me?"

The human nodded and went for the door, signaling Joman to follow him into a storage room, where they could have some privacy.

"How good are you at infiltration?" asked Star-Lord.

"Did you lie to Yondu?"

"'Course I did! Duh! He'd skin me alive if he knew what I was planning. So, how good are you?"

"I'd say I'm quite good. Now, care to tell me what this is all about?"

The human obliged, telling him a story about how he alone had escaped an ambush during what was supposed to be a easy job.

"We got our contract, our coordinates and the time," he said. "We thought it was gonna be an easy pick, hit and run and bag the money. We should have bailed the moment our target was late. But the boys feared Yondu and the bad rep a botched job would bring to us, so we stayed. I had a bad feeling and stayed behind, and when those ships came, I tried to fight back, but I saw them taking the other ships. Not destroying them, just taking them like one of those fishermen with big nets," he gestured with his hands, but seemed to realize something and said. "Ah, forget it, you've never seen a fisherman. Anyway, when I came back I tried to get into contact with our contractor. Nothing. Not a trace. Fake name, fake credentials, fake account. The guy never existed."

"Can't you find out where the messages came from?"

"I could if I know about encrypting, but I don't have that skill. I tried contacting a guy I know who could help me, but he had vanished too."

"Authorities caught him?"

"I dunno," Star-Lord sighed. "It could be. You know in this job you get to know lots of shady people, anything could have happened to him. I tried contacting others because you were missing, but it was all the same with all of them: the less we are, the more we'll have to split," he shook his head in frustration. "Until I got word that you were around again. Everyone knows you are good, despite what Yondu has been saying, so..."

"Tell me your plan and I'll give you my opinion."

A suspicion had been forming in Loki's mind for some time, but he needed some confirmation. The Midgardian's tale had helped him confirm his fears.

The Dark Elves seemed to be harvesting whatever fighters they could find. Unable to conscript people from other planets as they used to do at the peak of their power, they turned to criminals and those no one would miss. Pirates and smugglers weren't the prime example of honorable fighters; though Loki knew about the Dark Elves' cruelty, he was at a loss at how they could keep that rabble in line to fight in an organized war.

"Do you plan on freeing them?" Joman asked incredulously. "How? There's only two of us! And you don't know if they are still alive!"

"That's secondary," Star-Lord shook his head. "Our main priority is knowing what they do with them. Thousands of people can't vanish on thin air."

After a few seconds of thought, Joman nodded.

"I'll do it," he said.

"And that's it?" Star-Lord asked suspiciously. "You're gonna accept it and that's all?"

"What more there is to it?"

"Javelans don't have a sense of honor and I haven't set a price yet."

Joman regarded him in silence for a moment before answering.

"I never act out of the good of my heart," he said, slowly. "Legend says Javelans don't have it anyway. Someone wants to know what is happening and they contracted me for that. Besides, I'm not stupid and I don't think any of us will be spared in the future, be it by abduction or war. I think we can find a common ground in that."

Star-Lord held his gaze for a while, as if pondering his words. Then he nodded.

"Let's get to work, then. By the way, you can call me Peter."

Chapter Text

The plan went smoothly.

That was what Loki would have liked to tell himself. Unfortunately, plans hardly ever go as expected.

Peter had intended to follow another group of smugglers into a job that was likely to be a trap. It was, in fact, a trap, but when it snapped, it also ensnared them, which was something they hadn't planned.

The last thing Loki remembered was the attack, and the next time he opened his eyes he was lying on the floor of a small cell. He sat up slowly, as his hand went for his head. Thankfully the shapeshifting hadn't been affected, and neither had they touched his clothes. Only the weapons were gone, for obvious reasons.

In his true form he wouldn't have any problem standing up in the small cubicle, but as Joman he had to stoop lest his horns scrapped the ceiling. It was such a narrow space he didn't have problems touching each of the four walls with only extending his arms. The light had been dimmed to Svartálfar standards; Javelans had better eyesight than humans, but even in this form walking around was challenging at first.

His hands felt the walls until he found what appeared to be a door, then gauged its dimensions. It was airtight, with a small hatch at the bottom.

Shipped like cattle. Loki wondered how many prisoners lost their mind before arriving at whatever destination the Dark Elves had planned.

Applying his ear to the door, he listened to the deep rumble transmitting through the hull, which suggested a big spaceship; thuds and muffled screams could be heard too, probably from the other cells. Then, growing louder, he thought he could hear footsteps.

The small hatch opened and something slid through it: a battered tray, carrying a piece of an undefined solid substance and a container with liquid. The footsteps and the sound of other trays being slid through other door's hatches faded away and Loki was left in the dimness of the narrow cell.

He sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. Improvising plans wasn't something new to him, but something in the back of his mind made him feel uneasy.

Loki gazed at the unappetizing food in the tray and had an idea. He removed it from the tray and emptied half the liquid through the small hatch that served as urinary. Shapeshifting into a fly, the ration suddenly seemed less revolting, but eating wasn't in his mind at that moment. He waited patiently, hidden in a corner of the tray, until he felt the approaching feet and the sound of trays scrapping the ground.

The movement was sudden, but his reflexes were faster. Flying out of the guards' reach, he went for the ceiling in the narrow and dark corridor. Then he sat, waiting.

Loki cycled through all the inconspicuous insect forms he knew from the Nine Realms until his eyes could see. He was now a small beetle, hopefully hard to detect for the Elves.

He flew a few meters down the corridor before stopping.

Where was Peter?

The young man was just a Ravager, he knew the risks, Loki told himself.

And yet...

In his current form he didn't have lungs, but if he had, he would have sighed.

He wasn't indebted to him, he didn't need the money he offered to pay and they had just met.

And yet...

He liked the Midgardian's courage. That stupid, rock solid assurance that everything was going to be fine.

Just like Thor.

And Yondu would hunt him to the end of the known Universe and beyond if something happened to the human. He knew it. A change in personas would remedy it, though Joman had a well established career and a good name. It would take many years to build that from scratch.

But for now the human would be safer in whatever cell they might have put him in.

Loki flew down the corridor, hearing the screaming and wailing of the prisoners, all the while he kept checking the ceiling for anything that suggested some sort of surveillance. He found nothing, but still he didn't risk transforming back.

He retraced his steps to his cell and put a mark that only he could see on the door. Then he flew down the corridor, listening to the prisoners' sounds inside their cells. After some time, he identified a voice some ways away. Someone was singing, loudly and off key, in English.

Approaching the door of the cell the singing was coming from, he marked it as he had done with his own. Flying down the corridor again, which ended in a big, airtight metal door. Small windows opened on the upper part and, looking through them, he saw what he guessed was the surveillance system, absent from the prison ward, together with weapons mounted on the walls.

So many airtight doors seemed more like a trap than a safety measure, probably in case the inmates became too rowdy.

He would have to wait until the next feeding time.

Several hours went by until the doors opened and he made his movement. He first followed the soldiers back to his cell so he could dispose of his "food" not to raise suspicion and, eating a bit himself to regain strength, then he hitched on the back of one of the soldiers to exit that ward.

Thankfully the devices at the door weren't programmed to pay attention to such small creature. As he flew through the corridors to make a mental maps of his surroundings, he crossed paths with several patrols. They weren't nearly enough to keep watch on such a large area.

The ship was severely undermanned. Entire sections had been sealed and were off-limits, their air supply and energy cut so the rest could operate without problems. Most of the staff worked at the command deck, manning the tracking systems and weapons, with a few individuals posted at the hangar and outside the prison ward.

That made his exploring far easier, but also raised some questions about the true state of Malekith's army. All the signs pointed to a ruler in dire straits to keep his people alive. Some would consider it good news, but Loki remembered what the Dark Elf was capable of sacrificing, and wondered what his true intentions might be.

He discovered by chance a room where the Dark Elves had stored and classified all the equipment they had taken from their prisoners. The ship not only worked as a transport; there was a small group of Dark Elves tasked with classifying and studying all the equipment they gathered from their prisoners. One could date the Svartálfar's discoveries looking at what had stopped gathering over time once it wasn't a novelty anymore. Translators were among the first things to be ignored after the first iterations. Implants and augmentations, unless they were weapons, were always ignored, at least in the ship. What would happen at their destination was anyone's guess.

He found his own possessions, guessing Peter's wouldn't be too far away. Marking the room, he rushed back to the prison ward, just in time for the next meal.

This time he stopped by Peter's door and snuck in hidden in the food tray.

The human grunted when he saw the tray.

"Not this shit again," he got up and banged at the door. "Hey! You fucking bastards! When I get out of here I'm gonna cram this crap you're feeding us up your..."

"Peter..."

"Not now," he waved his hand dismissively. "You hear me? When I finish with you not even your mama is gonna recognize you! I'm gonna..."

"Peter!"

"Dude, not now!" He didn't even turn around. "I'm gonna fuck you up so bad your grandpa'll wish he was never born!"

"PETER!"

"What?" he turned around. And screamed.

Loki had shapeshifted into Joman again, a form Peter knew. He understood that his sudden appearance might have startled the human, but that scream would make even the most negligent guard curious.

A red hand darted forward and covered the human's mouth. Peter was instantly silenced, though he quickly slapped Joman's hand away.

"The fuck?" the human whispered. "The hell are you doing here? How? Can you walk through walls?"

"No," He was about to explain, but refrained, for brevity's sake. "Do you want to get out of this cell?"

"Yeah."

"Then do exactly as I tell you. Don't ask questions, all right?"

Peter narrowed his eyes.

"We only have so much time until they take the trays back, or we'll have to wait here until the next time they feed us. Do you trust me?"

That seemed to convince him, at least to some degree.

"I... guess so," he said.

Joman hastily instructed him about rushing to the tray when he gave him the signal, and warned him about how he was going to feel strange for a few moments until he could adjust. Peter seemed a bit remorseful about having agreed to the plan, but the soldiers would be back any time now. Joman kicked the 'food' out of the tray, put his hands on Peter's shoulders and murmured something.

Suddenly Peter saw the cell expanding around him as he felt like falling. He hit a metallic surface with a strange sound he didn't expect. The human tried his hardest to find his bearings, when he saw a gigantic bug in front of him, as big as he was. He tried running away, but then he noticed that he had six legs; feeling so many appendages was a strange experience, especially if he paid attention to his back.

The beetle in front of him opened his 'hard shell', as Peter knew it, and extended his wings, flapping them a few times. He tried doing it, but it was hard at first.

Peter felt a sudden vibration on the floor: footsteps approaching. He tried harder to open his shell, being on the brink of giving up, until he felt something different in his back. His wings flapped with so much energy his legs lost contact with the surface where the two beetles sat.

However, he had no time to rejoice. A hand yanked the tray and he was sent rolling towards the metal wall, hitting it, rebounding out of the recipient and coming to hit the exterior of the cell's door. Fortunately it was outside de cell. Unfortunately, he had fallen on his back.

The other beetle flew towards him, landing at his side with as much grace a bug can and tackled him, flipping his body back to an upright position.

Both beetles flew off and attached themselves to the back of one of the guards' legs. Once outside the prison ward, Loki led Peter along a safe path, stopping from time to time to make sure he was adjusting well to his new form and didn't get lost.

After a short trek they sat on top of a door, waiting. An Elf came out of the room beyond said door, and the two bugs flew inside once they saw an opening.

Loki dropped the spell when they were finally alone, both men reappearing as Dark Elves. Loki had studied just enough of their facial structures to create two generic individuals with god enough appearances to pass as actual Svartálfar.

"What..." Peter braced himself against a wall, looking as if he was holding a wave of nausea. "What the hell was that? How can we do that? How can YOU do that?"

"I'll explain later," Joman answered. Peter was about to protest but Joman was already walking away from him.

The human turned Dark Elf looked around them. His human eyes couldn't see past a few meters, but the sound of Joman's footsteps suggested they were inside a vast room.

"This is where they took our equipment," Joman told him, making a sign for the human to follow him. "They are probably trying to study the technology of every race they encounter."

Peter stopped, bracing himself against one of the shelves. Why he was so short of breath?

"Are you all right?" Joman asked.

The human waved his hand dismissively.

"My head spins a bit," he said. "Probably the crap they fed us," to change the subject, he took a small thing from one of the shelves. "Are you sure about the not knowing part?" he said, fiddling with the small object. "This is a standard issued communicator from the Nova Corps. Ain't no way these creeps don't know who they are."

Taking another thing from the self, he pulled at a piece of clothing: a Nova Corps uniform.

"You would think they'd investigate the death of their own," he muttered through gritted teeth before shoving the jacket back into the shelf.

Peter didn't say anything more as he followed Joman trough the maze of aisles, until the Javelan stopped in front of one particular shelf.

With a sigh of relief, Peter retrieved his possessions. Joman saw him grab a small, rectangular device, with a wire that connected it to a hearing contraption. The human gave him a quick sideways glance as he pocketed the small box, which disappeared into the illusion of the Svartálfar's armor, and continued as if nothing had happened. Then he attached a small piece to the back of his right ear and activated it. The illusion of his face waved for an instant, and then he took a deep breath, seemingly relieved.

"Oxygen was too low," he rasped. "It's okay if you are in a small box but as soon as you try to move you will black out in the end. Now," he pulled his gun out and pointed it at Joman. "I want you to tell me exactly who you are and how come you know so much about these guys no one has ever heard of before."

The Javelan didn't flinch, or at least his Dark Elf appearance didn't move a muscle, which made Peter's short temper flare up. But as the human opened his mouth to yell at him, Joman made a movement with his hands and Peter's gun wasn't in his grip anymore, but pointing back at him. A heartbeat passed before the Javelan spoke.

"I understand your suspicions," said Joman, lowering the weapon with a sigh. "But I assure you that if I was working with them, you would still be rotting in that cage. I'll tell you whatever you might want to know and I can reveal, but you have to trust me. You did so until now and you are still alive."

Peter nodded, not too pleased with the situation, but didn't try to shoot at Joman when the Javelan gave him back his weapon.

"So..." Peter hesitated for a moment. "What's the plan?"

"Survive until I can return us to a safe planet, but I guess you will find it quite boring."

"Why don't we blow this whole place up and then we escape with everyone else?"

"We can't. There aren't any ships that can carry us far enough. We will have to wait until we reach our destination. Then we will go back."

The truth was the portal spell depended heavily on the relative speed of origin and destination. Both had to stay within a certain range and never surpass a certain point, relative to the other. The real life effect would be that one could cast portals between planets, as long as both were inside that safety range, or between those and space stations, but spaceships, unless they were docked or orbiting another body, were too dangerous, since one risked coming out into the void of space unless they moved at exactly the same speed.

Peter proposed hacking into the Dark Elves' systems and downloading all the information they could gather. Joman exposed the caveats of the human's plan, but he didn't budge. Any activity, no matter how fruitless it seemed, was better than sitting on his hands.

After a long search they gathered most of what Peter said they needed, and for the rest they resorted to improvise with other objects. But time was on the essence, and Loki conjured a portal to Peter's cell, to then connect it to his own with another portal.

While the human worked his mind was elsewhere, and there was a question he had to ask.

"Tell me how you do all these things," he said as he rewired the circuits of a pocket computer.

"What things?"

"Don't play stupid! I don't know any technology that can turn you into a bug. And these portals? Is this magic?"

Joman gazed at him in silence.

"I'm serious," Peter insisted. "I know magic exists, okay? Did someone teach you?"

"In a manner of speaking, yes," he said tentatively.

"Well, ain't that useful?" Peter smiled at him. "Never met a mage before. Can you cast fireballs?" He laughed and waved his hand at him when he saw the Javelan's expression. "Just pulling your leg. Can you hold this wire like this for me?"

xxxxXX-0-XXxxxx

After Peter assembled the makeshift device, they started properly exploring the ship. Each time they found a dead end, were about to be discovered, or time ran out before the next meal, Loki conjured a portal and they were safe in their cells and the guards never noticed anything amiss.

As they shared hours of work and exploration, Peter opened up a bit more and started telling Joman about his life. It would always happen when Peter had his hands occupied with the attempts at hacking a console. Apparently talking helped him relax his mind.

Two days after they woke up the human told Joman about his childhood in Terra, how Yondu "rescued" him precisely when he needed a new home, and his many adventures as he lived and grew up with the Ravagers. And, finally, the reason why he insisted so much in learning what was happening.

"A friend of mine disappeared out there."

"Friend or more than a friend?" Joman asked.

"Just a friend," Peter confessed. "Not from our clan, but I've known him since I was young. Each time there was a meeting he would approach me and give me something: a small knife, some components if I was building anything... you know, useful things, until I was a grown man and Yondu sent me on a real mission. In the following gathering of clans he told me that the only gift he could give me anymore was his advice."

Loki was glad he could keep his composure and not betray what he felt. The Dark Elves were anything but kind, and if Peter's friend was old, chances were they had disposed of him.

"And I know what might have happened to him," Peter said, as if he had read his thoughts. "But I don't care. If it happened to him it will happen to us. One by one, being hunted like rabbits, and the only thing they care about is that we get more loot to share."

Loki, in turn, would tell the human about Joman's story.

"You will find my life pretty boring, not for lack of events, but because mine is the story of a million others. I was born from a slave Javelan woman whom I've never met. My earliest memory is me pickpocketing the purse of a wealthy gentleman in Bajoran and getting away with it. Then I stuck my hand in the wrong pocket, but the rich lady it belonged to was too amused to have her guards killing me, so she took me with her as a pet."

Peter made a noise.

"That's disgusting."

"Nope, easiest job I've ever had. I was an ornament of sorts. I was supposed to dress nicely, make an appearance at parties and sometimes indulge in small conversation with whoever dared to approach me. Sometimes they asked me to make a small martial arts exhibition. The ladies loved that," he smiled as he said that. "But this rich lady's husband had enemies, so one day they attacked their home, killed the whole family and ransacked the place. I ran away, taking with me whoever I could protect. I made good friends there so it was just fair that I did. Then it came my mercenary era and here I am, trapped in an alien ship."

Now, once upon a time, there had been one Joman Vellis, though their lives had been vastly different.

The original Joman Vellis had been one of many Javelan orphans living in squalor in that planet. That one, however, could never be mistaken for the Joman talking to Peter in the present time. His intelligence was lacking at best, compared to a sentient creature, but he was astute in the ways of killing and causing as much suffering as possible. His abilities were useful for a minor crime lord that picked him up from the streets as a child, until he realized the Javelan would be more profitable in the fighting pit of Sarkur.

In that place, Joman found employment in the gory spectacle of clandestine fighting, but never climbing his way to the top. He didn't mind much since he was a man of few desires. He was clothed, fed and could kill from time to time, when the rules of the pit allowed it. Until the sanctioned fighting wasn't enough, and he would slip away some nights to come back sated and ready for training. No one knew where he went and no one asked.

It came a night when Joman was pitted against a combatant he was told not to kill, only to maim. Such orders weren't uncommon in the underbelly, especially when bets were fixed beforehand.

This time the Javelan didn't obey, and he not only killed his rival, but made sure he suffered greatly before passing away. There was no reprimand from the organizers, however; only a small portion of revenue had been lost, nothing the other fights couldn't compensate, and Joman was by that time an established and feared name. One of the betters, however, wasn't happy at all with what had happened and how it had been handled by the owners.

Joman would keep on with his life, and one night he was lured inside an alleyway with the promise of satisfying his unquenchable bloodlust. It was a small prey, cowering, scared, like most of the others in the past. And like the others, pitifully pleading for her life. Delicious.

The puncture felt like fire that spread faster through his body than he could react. He fell to the ground like a dead weight and it hurt, far more than any wound he had received in the past. Had he been more intelligent and versed in the ways of the street he would have fallen prey to panic, because he had been administered a rare venom that paralyzed the body, yet made each nervous termination ten times more sensitive than normal. However, at that moment he could only feel a raw, primal fury when his toy vanished in a cloud of green smoke before his eyes. A shadow fell over him, silent, a dagger glistening in each hand.

The next morning they found the remains of a grotesquely butchered body in an alleyway; nothing unusual in that place, except the deceased had been a seasoned warrior from the pit. The master covered up the incident and told everyone they had sold Joman; life resumed as usual and his name slowly faded into oblivion like a bad dream.

Of this story, of course, few people knew anything about, and those who did never bothered to remember it after the gladiator's disappearance. The only thing Loki knew was that "Joman Vellis" had a ring to it and that impersonating a Javelan was something he was yet to do. Thus, months after these events, another Joman Vellis appeared, keen of mind and subtle in the ways of the underworld, and he quickly carved himself a place among mercenaries and guns for hire.

The screen on Peter's makeshift computer screen flashed.

"Finally," the human said with satisfaction.

"Are you in?"

"Not exactly, I can't hack this damned stuff, but I can access and I can..." he trailed off before taking off something from the back on his right ear. "Now I can't probably understand anything you say. Got a crazy idea for my translator, don't ask, but if I'm right I'll be able to understand these pale fuckers in a few minutes."

Loki didn't say a thing. He could have spoken to him in english, but that would have meant revealing far too much of himself and he preferred to stay in his Joman persona. He noticed Peter's translator model that was either custom or too old. Probably the former.

His ears picked up a distant thud: a door opening and closing. He tapped Peter on the shoulder and pointed in the direction of the sound. The human nodded and returned to his computer, but his breathing had become accelerated. Both were again donning their Dark Elves disguises, but if a patrol caught them they would ask questions.

Distant steps approached slowly. Svartálfr soldiers were nothing if not dutiful, even in the absence of their leader. They would see them in a matter of seconds.

"Peter," Joman hissed.

The human yanked the computer's cables from the console and closed the hatch door. At the same time, Loki conjured a portal and they were out, just as a couple of soldiers turned the corner.

xxxxXX-0-XXxxxx

"That was close," Joman panted.

"What's life without a bit of emotion?" Peter joked, his translator back to his hear.

"A life without having your brains blown out by an anti-matter blaster, for example. Did you find anything at least?"

The human smiled broadly, holding the small computer.

"Got the translator, now I can understand them."

"Wait, the translator is for speech, how...?"

"Yeah, the fancy gizmos rich people and diplomats get," Peter waved his hand. "Mine connects to my mask and translates text too. These guys seem carry in their data banks all the information there is about their civilization. I could download a big chunk from the library they kept about other races, with translations to other languages, so we only have to let it update and it will be ready in a few hours."

As Peter predicted, the translator finished its updating and began translating the text from the Dark Elves' files. Unfortunately, performing such task on a foreign language without any cultural context can sometimes yield unexpected results.

The data carried by the Svartálfr ships served as a survival tool, so if any mothership landed on a suitable planet, the crew could have all the knowledge of their race at their disposal to survive. Peter had access to a tiny fraction of their vast libraries, but it was enough to build a rudimentary one, which he shared with his Javelan companion to update his translator.

They needed more trips to unguarded terminals, though, since it was absolutely impossible to dump all the data in their storage units.

"Like trying to sneak away with the Lost Ark inside a fanny pack," Peter grumbled as he went over the sheer amount of information. "I'm lost, dude," he sighed at last, looking at his companion. "You know them better, you decide what to take and what to leave."

They had traveled further into the ship, to a set of corridors which, strangely enough, seemed not to be patrolled. The air there felt stale and heavy, and it had been good fortune that Joman had found a philter mask for himself. Despite his higher tolerance for non-Midgardian atmospheres, the days they had spent in the Svártalfar's habitat began to take their toll.

He instructed Peter to choose data about their weapons and ships, especially any schematics which showed their weak points and their energy sources. Later, in their shared cells, while Joman sorted out the useful information, Peter listened to audio logs. At some point Joman heard the human let go of a long string of insults.

"What's wrong?"

Peter took off (or nearly tore off) his headphones, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

"We are cattle, as we suspected," he said. "And they are taking us to Crilack."

Chapter Text

As it was mentioned before in our story, Crilack had some importance in the History of the Universe, or as much importance as a drop in an ocean can have. After the bioweapons scandal was over and the new legislation had been passed, Crilack's operations continued for a time. However, there was a gradual change in the board, as well as with the experimental division. One by one, the scientists retired from their posts. Since they had been specifically selected either from societies that shunned intimate bonds or said individuals were already outcasts, no one noticed that, after their retirement, they simply vanished.

In the end, the Company abandoned the planet. But, some centuries before our time, others rediscovered the small planet and settled there, unknowingly emulating their predecessors. But times had changed, and so did the many ways to kill your adversary. Bioweapons weren't profitable anymore as an illegal activity, and so the second company had to fill for banckrupcy and abandon their factories and laboratories at Crilack, for they didn't have the funds to dismantle them, thus leaving the planet as they had found it: a deserted, empty and poisoned world.

Because, unlike the Ryla system, there was no vegetation to reclaim the ruins, no fauna to repopulate the water, the ground or the perpetually overcast skies. The constant poisoning of the three elements had driven all multicellular life forms to complete extinction in a few decades of activity, not too long after the first company finished the construction of its facilities.

Microorganisms, however, had survived. There was a treasure trove of evolutionary knowledge, especially in the waters, if someone dared to approach them. If the Universe lasted long enough, in a few billion years there would be life in Crilack to challenge all evolutionary theories.

But to the newest inhabitants, the bacteria living there held as much interest as the rest of life forms living under the light of suns in other planets.

Finding that planet hadn't been easy. The language barrier in some cases had been an almost impossible obstacle, and several times they had been forced to resort to violence.

However, Malekith's determination was nothing if not strong.

The Sorcerer King's footsteps echoed through the metal halls of the abandoned compound. Out of three motherships remaining from his army, two had gone hunting for new subjects some weeks ago and the third one remained orbiting around the planet, scanning the surroundings.

There would be time to rebuild his fleet, he reminded himself. But for now he needed manpower; as much as his soldiers were ready and willing to sacrifice themselves, he had no use for an army of dead Svartálfar.

Harvesting subjects had been out of the question at first. No matter how primitive in technology and culture these creatures of the light were, they still followed legal codes and he wasn't foolish enough to open another front as things stood. However, with time Malekith had observed that the enforcement of such legal codes was lax at best. Thus there was no shortage of outlaws, brigands and other kinds of reprehensible individuals whom no one would miss, and whose energies could be put towards a more productive use.

But their capture and their later biological conditioning had mixed results. Sometimes the sleeping gas they used was too strong for certain individuals, resulting in their death; other times, after having survived the transportation, a number of them either succumbed to the effects of the biological conditioning or had their aggression boosted to such levels they had to be put down.

Nothing went to waste with the Svartálfar, and they collected the carcasses and the ships alike, lest someone could trace them back to them. Then both were thoroughly studied and analyzed, so that the Elves could learn the most efficient method to subdue or eliminate each race.

One of the motherships would arrive soon, as his officials had informed him. He hoped this next batch would be better than the last.

Stepping into the control room, he saw his subordinates standing up from their posts and bowing to him. He raised his hand and everyone returned to their tasks.

"My Lord," Algrim greeted him. "The ship is entering the system. They have reported two hundred thirty three captives."

"Any loss?"

"None at the time of capture. If they all survive the transport to the laboratory, that's to be seen."

Setting up that control room hadn't been easy. Most of the components had decayed over the years, and his technicians had to figure out how to adapt their own equipment to the alien one. In the end only half the functions were available, which was considered a strike of luck. The energy their ships needed was nowhere to be found anymore, so they had to use it sparingly. This planet, however, had generators for their facilities, which made things easier.

It was humiliating. They were the rightful masters of the universe before the Singularities existed. Now they were less than beggars barely scrapping by to survive.

Everything would change once they found the Aether. Then he would have his revenge, both on Bor's family and the creators of the Singularities. His own orders could wait.

Looking at the screen mounted on the wall, he saw the image of the planet's orbit and a single point of light slowly approaching: the mothership with its precious cargo. Signaling to Algrim to follow him, they made their way to the docking area.

xxxxXX-0-XXxxxx

The Mothership docked smoothly.

As soldiers unloaded the cages into the compound, Malekith observed them from a vantage point. As always, his subordinates were disciplined and efficient. He couldn't ask more from them.

That was why he resorted to an army of slaves. Their race was on the brink of extinction, while the Children of the Suns had multiplied as swamp worms. What if a few billions of them perished? Their numbers would be restored in a few years. And what they called culture was nothing but a poor amalgamation of customs without rhyme or reason.

This time, capture had been a success, which was rare. Only a few individuals had perished at the last moment, as Algrim had just informed him. Nevermind. Their corpses would be studied either way and then cremated.

As he stood with one hand over the railing, his mind wandered. If only he could find the Aether, everything would be different. The former days of glory would return, the universe would be as it was supposed to be from its inception.

The slow parade of containment units ended, all accounted for.

He turned away from the railing, but something made him stop.

Each magician has a distinctive imprint in the weave of arcane energy. A seasoned spellcaster like Malekith had this sense particularly sharpened. In the Svartálfar's golden days he could cast his consciousness into the current of magic energies and detect every other user of the arcane arts.

But since he had woken up it felt as if he walked through a barren land. There were other magicians, yes, but puny and unimportant, hardly deserving his attention, much less the use of the counter measures he had devised before falling into cryosleep.

Bor's runts, especially the one he poisoned, showed some competence for a minor race. Bor's son proved to be more than he expected, and he almost paid for it dearly.

His rage had clouded his mind that one time, and he sworn it wouldn't happen again.

The imprint he detected... he knew it. But this time it was stronger.

Malekith stood for a moment overlooking the hangar, pondering. The poison he had used was one of their most potent toxins. No one could have survived that.

But it had been designed five thousand years prior. Races change, genes mix, resistances can be build and toxins decay.

His slender fingers touched the star pinned to his shoulder.

"Is any of the prisoners versed in magic?" he asked Algrim.

"Not to my knowledge, my lord. Brigands and outlaws don't seem to follow the mystic path."

"Tell all captains to reinforce security," he said to Algrim as he marched back into the compound. "Come with me and keep your weapons ready."

xxxxXX-0-XXxxxx

Sneaking inside the compound was an easy task, thanks to the invisibility spell. Loki had counted the days they had been traveling, a fortnight in Midgardian time. During that time both men had kept themselves busy, sorting whatever information Joman would deem useful after a painstaking translation which half the time yielded nonsensical texts. Diagrams, however, could be self explanatory. The rest of the time was spent planning what they would do after they arrived.

Their initial plan hadn't been altered: To see exactly what the Dark Elves had been doing to all the abducted prisoners and, if they could, sabotage or cause as much harm as they could before running away through a portal.

Peter had instructed Joman about Crilack's history, so the Javelan could form an idea of what they were about to encounter. Though nothing could have prepared the companions for what they saw as the mothership approached the planet: whatever solid surface it had was completely covered with ruins of what appeared to be the facility.

Luckily, the human had infiltrated similar places as part of his usual activities. The good thing about scientists, he said, was that they were very predictable, so once you saw a few laboratories, you could guess where each thing could be.

As they silently scurried away through the dilapidated corridors, they observed the facility wasn't as undermanned as the mothership, but still their numbers seemed not enough. They couldn't find any terminal or computer they could use, but some of the signs could still be read.

"We have until they open our empty cells," Joman reminded Peter as they hid in a side corridor until a patrol was out of sight.

"Or until they see these weapons are missing," Peter answered.

The rifles they had taken were too cumbersome to Loki's taste, but they might come in handy if they could take them out of there. The Dark Elves weren't the only ones who could reverse engineer alien technology.

After some twists and turns and several close calls with patrols, they observed several signs had been overwritten in the Svartalfár language. Following them, they reached a window overlooking another hangar, but this one had been repurposed.

Dark Elves weren't famous for their mercy or their good treatment of prisoners, but what they saw there was enough to make Peter feel his stomach churn.

The vast surface of the hangar had been turned into a giant operating room, where Dark Elves performed their "biological conditioning". They were ruthless with their own people and cruel to other races, but they were efficient too in every task they set their eyes upon.

As the invisibility spell was about to wear off, they didn't tarry in that place, nor they wanted to stay. The men stumbled away from that giant horror chamber and sought another hiding spot to gather their thoughts.

"The fuck was that?" Peter's voice trembled as he fought to not dry heave.

"The best biological conditioning," said Joman, who had trouble keeping his tone even. "It's Hinoi's Fungus. I had heard of it, but never saw the effects on a sentient creature."

Hinoi's Fungus was named, not after the scientist who catalogued it, nor the planet of origin, but after the doctor who discovered it after a patient had returned from a hunting trip, several Midgardian centuries ago. The story that followed involved further diagnoses among his traveling companions, quickly followed by several city lockdowns, then continental lockdowns and, finally, a planetary lockdown. The unsuspecting travelers had brought the fungus' spores back home after they disregarded all the sanitary and security measures provided by their guides back at Aneka. As bad luck had it, their homeworld provided the perfect amount of humidity, ultraviolet radiation and average temperature for the fungus to grow at an exponential rate. Five patients zero caused the direct death of thousands across several countries, triggered a world-wide health crisis and an economic recession that took nearly a century to recover from. Had any of them survived authorities would have brought the full weight of the law to bear on them, but they had to be satisfied with banning all tourist trips to Aneka.

Years later, when the fear had died down, scientists had started studying the fungus, discovering there was a close correlation between its activity and the unusual aggression of some of Aneka's fauna, which had been a well kept secret among the natives. Now, the fungus' infection was a method of natural selection but, taken out of its native ecosystem, it would grow unchecked until it smothered all life in a planet, which was what almost happened.

Contrary to what he had told Peter, Loki had seen first hand the fungus' effects and the fact that, once fully colonized, the host would become highly aggressive and the only way to eliminate the threat was burning the body. The only consolation was that, whatever sentient creature had been unfortunate enough to be a victim was no longer there.

"We have to burn this place to the ground," Peter said when Joman finished his story.

The Javelan was about to answer, for he had the traces of a plan forming in his mind, but the words died in his throat. The invisibility spell had disappeared on its own, but so did the concealment spell. Only his Javelan form remained.

The human noticed it though he didn't panic at first, probably thinking it was a normal occurrence. He only asked what was wrong when he saw his companion making gestures with his hands and his expression changing.

"My magic doesn't work," Joman confessed.

"What do you mean it doesn't work?" Peter hissed. "You ran out of spells or something?"

Loki's mind raced, trying to find an explanation. He still had plenty of energy, this shouldn't be happening!

Unless...

"We need to keep moving!" Joman urged his human companion.

"Are you going to tell me what's going on?" Peter demanded, though he followed him.

Joman would have been delighted to explain magic theory to Peter, but there was no time.

"He's near us!" he only said, as he picked up his pace as silently as he could.

xxxxXX-0-XXxxxx

"We should have bailed out as soon as we docked," Peter panted as he ran behind Joman.

While the human was right, they still needed the information they now possessed. If this mission went wrong, Loki's only regret was leaving the Nine Realms at the mercy of Malekith.

For now, they were at the mercy of the Dark Elves.

It didn't take long for the first couple of guards to catch up to them. They ambushed the two companions at an intersection. Peter's lighting reflexes prevented him from being atomized. The guards shot to kill, though they didn't expect their prey to shoot back with their own antimatter riffles. As Peter ducked, Joman shot, hitting one guard square in the chest while the other stumbled for cover.

Now they ran as fast as their legs could carry them with Peter leading the way this time.

The sound of their footsteps mingled with the echoes of voices behind them. It had been a blessing to adapt the translators to their language; despite the sometimes faulty translation they could understand what the superiors were barking at their soldiers.

They had walked into a trap and it was closing.

Suddenly the corridor's walls disappeared to be replaced with deep darkness that not even his Javelan eyes would pierce. He heard Peter cursing under his breath, to them grab his arm and guide him away from the access door.

Loki tried shapeshifting his eyes to a more suitable form, but his ability had somehow been locked.

However, being deprived of sight and his natural powers made him aware of another feeling.

He sensed Malekith, and knew the sorcerer sensed him too.

Peter made him stop as the human fumbled with something metallic. Looking back to where they had come from, Joman saw the faint glow of the room's entrance. Not wanting to be a dead weight, he readied his weapon, aiming it in that direction.

Something clicked, and something else slid heavily with the faint screeching of metal against metal. Joman felt Peter grabbing his arm again, and he let the human guide him after he closed the door behind them.

"That will give us some minutes," Joman heard in the darkness.

"Are you sure you know where we are?" they had slowed down their pace due to Joman being unable to see.

"Mostly," Peter confessed. "Right now how much can you see?"

"Nothing at all."

"I switched to infrared," the human explained. "These conducts are working right now and they grow hotter, so they have to lead us somewhere. These kind of facilities worked on xegon gas for the artificial atmosphere. If we reach the source we can make all these fuckers choke on their own poison."

Xegon gas was crucial for the production of artificial atmospheres in old facilities, it was cheap and easy to produce from solid elements, which formed almost 80% of Crilack's soil. However, it was banned a few years after the facility at the small planet was shut down for good, after a series of accidents made its use seen as questionable at best. This element was of synthetic origin and, while it was highly efficient, it was also extremely inflammable. When scientific advances produced other less dangerous elements, xegon was dropped almost overnight, but the Dark Elves had been able to restore the production of said gas. Of course, they knew nothing about its risks, only that it was useful for their purposes.

Peter intended to exploit that ignorance to its fullest.

"What was that about saving the prisoners?" Joman asked him.

"They are lost," Peter's voice sounded dispassionate. "Didn't you see what they were doing? As soon as they were out from those cages they were toast. By now they must have infected them all already, and they probably opened our empty cells and know exactly who we are. You can't use your magic, we can't get out, and I'll be damned if I end up as a mushroom zombie. If we manage to ignite the source of xegon gas that will create a chain reaction and the whole place will go boom."

Cannot use your magic, you are locked in your current form...

Panic had clouded his judgment. Magic dampeners were rare, but never impossible. The Collector had them, after all, so why shouldn't Malekith have access to them too?

Peter stopped so abruptly he made Joman bump into him.

"Damn it!" the human cursed under his breath.

"What's wrong?"

"A sealed door. The access is probably through another sector," he hit the door with the antimatter rifle. "We took the fucking wrong turn!"

A distant boom reverberated through the corridor. They had blown up the closed door.

"Shoot at the hinges!" Joman urged.

"There's no hinges, no lock, no nothing. It's sealed!"

"We might still have a chance," Joman insisted, his mind already creating a plan. "Do you have any grenades?"

"Uh... yeah, photon and plasma, why?"

"I have an idea, but you will have to do the first steps since I cannot see. It's only xegon in these conducts?"

"Eh, no, there's..." Peter's voice trailed off as he tried to remember. "There's also nitrogen and hydrogen in the others... and other gases but those two are the main ones. They get mixed in the air purifiers and that's how you have a breathable atmosphere, but you can't do it before because the mix in an enclosed space can be volatile," he recited.

Joman and Peter briefly discussed what Joman had in mind and both quickly took positions.

Since he was the only one who could see, Peter shot with his own blasters the corridors walls. The welding of one of the plaques covering the walls melted, so the companions could use the thick, metal plaque as parapet.

The sound of running steps echoed closer, then slowed down. They knew they where there. At Joman's unspoken signal Peter threw one of the photon grenades towards the Elves. As expected, they fired at it, not knowing what it was.

The sudden flash of light blinded everyone save the human, but it was enough for Joman to fire his gun at the conducts. At the same time, Peter, who had adjusted his mask's lenses, now had a clear view of Malekith. At the same time the photon grenade exploded, the human shot point blank towards the Dark Elf, hitting him in the chest.

A burst of fire erupted in the hallway. Peter closed his eyes, bracing for the pain, praying his incineration was faster than his nervous system so he wouldn't feel a thing.

Someone tackled him so hard the impact took his breath away. He landed on his back, on a wet, stone floor.

Light drizzle fell on his mask. Why everything was so cold all of a sudden?

The whiplash felt like waking up from a nightmare. He heard grunting near him, as a weight slid away from his chest.

"Jala's blood, you are heavier than you look," he heard Joman huffing.

He couldn't speak at first. Removing the mask, he reassured himself of what he thought was seeing.

"The fuck?" he murmured, dragging himself to a sitting position. "What the fuck?" he repeated with a stronger voice, looking around.

Joman sat a few paces away from him, laughing, his sharp fangs in full display.

"It worked!" he beamed.

"You crazy son of a bitch! How? You said you couldn't make magic anymore!"

"I took a gamble," Joman shrugged.

It was the truth. Loki had taken a gamble and won. Magic dampeners affect everyone, even those who wield them. By creating a life or death scenario, he had forced Malekith to turn off whatever device he was using, or perish with them.

"You... what?"

"You had already condemned us, so gambling our lives away wasn't that much of a risk anymore."

Peter laughed, getting to his feet.

"I knew I needed a crazy bastard for this job."

Joman didn't get up.

"You all right?"

Only when spoken to did the Javelan look up.

"It's my eyes," he said, as two silver irises gazed at him without seeing. "They will recover in a few hours, I hope."

The human's smile dropped.

"Will the money I paid you help with those eyes?"

Joman laughed.

"I'll be fine!" he said. "Just a few hours of rest and I'll be as good as new."

Without a word, Peter reached for his Javelan companion and helped him to his feet.

"You didn't have to do it," he said. "Why did you stick around? Why not open one of your portals and leave me there, payment be damned? You had a bigger boss to answer to, anyway."

The Javelan smiled again.

"As I said, I took a gamble. And now I'm hungry. Won't you guide a poor blind fellow to some place to eat?"

Peter looked around. They had landed in a side street, but he quickly recognized his surroundings.

He threw his arm around Joman's shoulders, feigning they were two drunken friends, as he guided his companion away from there. In his state, Joman could be an easy picking, and Peter didn't feel like letting that happen.

"C'mon," the human said. "It's been ages since I ate chult skewers and I know a place where they sell the best ones in town. My treat."

Chapter Text

One of the things Loki found most frustrating about Midgardians was the fact that they paired physical fragility with an incredible stubbornness only immortals should be allowed to display.

He wanted to join the attack on Crilack, he really did, but Peter refused to accept his help. The human argued Joman was no Ravager, and that he had no place there anymore. He sent him back to report to his "Asgardian master" and told him to stay out of trouble.

On one hand he wanted to join the Ravagers, but he knew Malekith could detect him and that could put everyone at risk.

He then returned to Earth, to Kamar-Taj, to fully recover his sight. Truth was, his eyes had only partially recovered before he said goodbye to Peter, while he claimed he was fully healed. Had he taken part in any mission he would have put whoever traveled with him in great danger.

Summer was coming to a close. His search for the Dark Elves was over and now his mind was focused on the data he had obtained; sharing it with Stark was tempting, but he decided against it. The human might mean well for his species, but there was something in his hunger for knowledge that struck an odd note for Loki.

He had taken the steps to acquire another spaceship, but the black market wasn't as agile as one would desire. In the meantime he tried contacting Peter, but he only received silence. When he pried for some info about the Ravagers, he was met with somber glances. No one had heard of Yondu's clan, or the other clans which joined them, for quite some time. Now the low-lives had started to feel unsafe.

Loki had no pity for them, cowards who only reacted when they saw their own lives in danger. But he did lament Peter's disappearance, and wondered if things would have turned out differently had Loki been with him.

He searched for someone who could analyze what they had harvested from the Dark Elves, but the only people he found were either unable to do it or wanted to double-cross him. In either case, he used mind-altering spells whenever he wasn't forced to kill them.

September was almost gone in the northern hemisphere on Midgard. Soon it would be one Sol year since Malekith invaded Asgard and, despite his efforts and perils, he had nothing to show for it. He hoped, against all hope, that Thor had been organizing the defenses of the Nine Realms and that they could at least stand a chance.

The Ancient One was the only one who could be entrusted with his discoveries. Despite her not having the technology to analyze any data, she promised to prepare all the defenses she could muster in case of an invasion.

"It seems like the tidal wave might reach us after all," she said. "You did all you could, given the circumstances. Now it's up to us to defend our planet."

xxxxXX-0-XXxxxx

Jane had never been to Scotland. In fact, this was one of the few times she had travelled abroad. After a whole summer of running around the British Islands, she was ready to go back home. Not that she didn't like the places she had visited, but she wished she could have done it during her vacations.

Especially since all the sites they had visited were remains of Neolithic structures, cairns, faery mounds, standing stones... All of them showed an unusual distortion in the magnetic field that no one could explain. In one place in Ireland, hikers and tourists complained about their compasses not working properly, while the old man at the hotel just chuckled, shook his head and something about the "sídhe feeling mischievous" before returning to his duties.

Then, as suddenly as the compasses had started acting up, they returned to normal, as did the readings on the magnetic activity.

Talks about fairies wasn't uncommon. They often interviewed other tourists and more times than they could count the conversation veered towards celtic traditions and esoteric subjects. Years ago Jane would have scoffed at the mere mention of the Tuatha dé Danann, banshees, Cŵn Annwn and other ancient myths. But after meeting actual Norse gods from the legends, she had second thoughts about the local folklore and their possible origin.

There was another crowd Jane sometimes like contacting: the UFO obsessed ones. The news had been talking in passing about sightings of unidentified objects which, over the weeks, seemed to approach Earth. It all began when a man had caused a scene at the police constabulary in Ambleside, Cumbria, claiming that aliens were coming for us, and waving a printed image of what he said was "the shadow of a spaceship". The news were treated as yet another case of mass hysteria for the so called "end of the world", commented and laughed at during evening shows and then quickly forgotten as soon as the next public scandal appeared.

Though she couldn't share their views on alien life, which sometimes came dangerously close to religious mysticism, many of them sometimes had useful data which formal scientists didn't deign to look at.

Like in this case. SHIELD had been the only one to pay attention to the fluctuations in the magnetic fields, and many UFO enthusiasts would talk excitedly about the man from Ambleside. Jane lamented not having time to contact him right away and having to wait until there were no SHIELD agents around her. She thought about telling Loki, but quickly dismissed the idea. If there was something happening out there in space, Asgardians would have detected it already, if it wasn't them in the first place.

When they arrived at Isle of Lewis, they were greeted by the ever-changing Scottish weather. The drive to Brèascleit was as uneventful as they hoped for, so they quickly checked in at the cottages SHIELD had booked for them and set to work.

Jackie, one of the field agents, was a tad too excited about being in that place. Darcy later told Jane about having seen a well-worn copy of a series of romance novels featuring Callanais in Jackie's bag. Jane questioned Darcy about how she could know so much just by reading the book's title, but her intern shrugged with a coy smile.

She had kept in contact with Loki, but mostly through text and the occasional phone call. Though it had been her idea not to see each other until that mission was over, Jane missed his company and their travels, and wondered if he had visited the British Islands when he was younger. Perhaps he would have a story or two to tell, as he always did.

They arrived on the 15th of September, very near the New Moon of that month. As the readings were mostly residual, they used the first few days to travel up and down the island, interviewing the locals, observing the environment, and some of them decided they could retire there one day.

At first their findings weren't unusual when interviewing locals, but as the moon grew, the owner of one of the cafes they dined at complained about not sleeping well lately. Jane and Darcy struck a conversation with the woman, who waved their concern away with a laugh. However, the two girls found it rather odd that many people had been having trouble sleeping lately, some pinpointing the start of the discomfort to late spring-early summer.

That fortnight before the Full Moon, Darcy had observed the sheep acting strangely. The animals seemed to graze as they would normally do, but they avoided some areas that weren't closed by any barrier or obstacle. Not even dogs went there. Being the outgoing girl she was, she approached a shepherd one afternoon to ask about it. The man shrugged, almost helplessly, confessing he didn't know what had gotten into his animals.

"I'm not much into superstitions myself," he told her in a think Scottish accent. "But all this talk about the end of the world can get to your mind, you know? It's been a weird summer, I tell you lassie. Those rocks you see over there?" he pointed at a mound. "Months ago my sheep would graze and nap there happy as you please, now they refuse to come near it, and even my dog bit at my trousers and barked at me when I tried to walk over there to see what got my animals so nervous."

Darcy thanked the man and returned to the group to share her findings, but the agents waved their concerns away. Jane, however, interchanged a knowing glance with her, but only spoke when they were alone, before turning in.

"They don't want to discuss that we all have been having weird dreams," Darcy said, making a face. "I forgot how infuriating scientists can be."

Jane chuckled.

"Do you think Loki would know anything about this?" she asked Jane. "I mean, he's a mage, right? And he's supposed to be studying right now. Maybe he could help us."

"He's a bit stressed lately," Jane said. "Maybe he would know, but I don't want to pile up more stuff on him. Maybe the weird dreams can have another explanation, at least for the population, and as for us, we are tired of travelling here and there and working part of the night and sometimes into the morning. This hasn't been exactly some holiday trip."

They chatted for a while before turning off the light and going to sleep. The next morning Jane couldn't remember what her dream had been about, but she had a vague feeling that it had been rather disturbing. She said nothing and continued her work.

On the night of the 29th, the readings at the main site were stronger than they had ever recorded. A light drizzle bothered them at the start of the night, but soon it was just passing clouds obscuring the almost full moon and the Milky Way. Still, the readings weren't strong enough to be conclusive.

By two o'clock in the morning the moon had reached its zenith and not only had they found nothing, but the readings had come to an abrupt halt, so they packed their things and went back to the cottage. At four in the morning, Jane awoke with a headache and the sound of the detector drilling into her ear, only to find that Darcy was sleeping so soundly the beeping of Jane's reading device didn't wake her up.

She turned the device off, having an idea.

Dressing up as quickly as she could, she slipped out of the cottage and walked along Pentland Road, her torchlight turned on and pointing to the ground while she looked at her reading device.

The signals grew stronger as she advanced, until she had to get off the road when she reached the hills. Then the readings went wild, just like in New Mexico. It was strange, because they had already analysed that area and it came up negative. Why did the signal spike now?

The night was unusually quiet. The moon was on its way to the western sky, but now it was obscured by clouds in the horizon, leaving her torchlight as the only source of light. Scottish weather is capricious, however, and when she was about to lose all hope of seeing anything, the clouds parted and the moon bathed her surroundings in silver light. She kept walking, with the wind rustling through the grass as her only companion. Where there voices mingled with it? Jane didn't stop to find out, now convinced this was a continuation of her dream.

As she climbed the hill, Jane saw fallen slabs of stone, half buried in peat and grass, surrounding a cairn, which was the only standing structure. The voices grew louder as she approached, her reading device beeping loudly.

Then everything went black.

xxxxXX-0-XXxxxx

The first thing he noticed was the cold grass against her face. It was still night time, but her surroundings looked very different.

The fallen slabs were now proper standing stones, tall and imposing, surrounding an even larger menhir. There was no wind, yet she could still hear a constant wailing she didn't know where it came from; it was interrupted from time to time by a loud noise, like the creaking of metal hinges, echoing and reverberating in the distance.

She scrambled to her feet, disoriented and frightened. Looking up, she saw a nondescript, reddish sky where she couldn't tell where the lightning source came from. Beyond the circle of stones she thought she saw the same landscape, until she realised the lake across the road wasn't reflecting what little light came from above, and that the glow in the distance from Brèascleit had disappeared.

Hugging herself to stifle a shiver, she looked around. The fence she had climbed over a moment ago was gone too. Had it been a moment ago? How long had she been there?

The wind picked up. It was icy and carried with it the sound of strange voices that filled her with dread. Jane was on the verge of tears as she turned around and had to repress a scream.

Standing in front of the menhir, at some distance from her, was a male figure with his back turned to her. Jane recognised the clothes, the hairstyle, the shape of the shoulders, the way he had his hands in his pockets as he stood looking up at the blood-red sky.

"Dad?" she whispered.

The man didn't turn around immediately; the wailing voices faded around them, and then he spoke.

"Took your time to find this place," he said.

He turned around to look at her.

There he was, exactly as she remembered him. The same kind eyes, the same warm smile.

"Look at you," he said, holding out his hand for her to take. "All grown up."

Despite her trembling knees, Jane approached him, tears rolling down her cheeks.

His hand was firm, taking hers with the same strength as when she was a child.

Cold.

For a fraction of a second he felt a shiver run up her arm, but it was gone as quickly as it had come.

Jane wanted to tell him so many things, about his memory being vindicated, or about all the wonders she had seen, or how much she missed him. But she was speechless, weeping silently as he drew her close.

His embrace was warm; she could smell the cologne she remembered so well as she broke down sobbing against his chest.

Cold.

He patted her back, stroking her long hair.

"There, there," he cooed to her. "I'm so sorry I had to leave you alone, but I'm here now."

His father broke the embrace and took her hand again, leading her towards the menhir. The stone looked smooth but irregular, like a rock that had been under water until all the edges had been softened. She saw the surface changing colour as if it was oozing some red substance.

As if it was bleeding.

For a split moment, she panicked and had the reflex to back away, but then she blinked and the menhir was back to being a black, shinny rock.

"Don't be afraid," her father told her.

He guided her hand, approaching it to the surface so she could touch it.

There is nothing to fear.

The menhir was cold to the touch, and soft. So soft.

She felt an icy stab running up her arm, then it reached her shoulder, then her face, but the man didn't let go of her hand. As the cold reached her chest, she tried to scream, but the wailing wind drowned her voice. She now saw the menhir bled a red, viscous substance she suddenly saw running up her arm. Jane tried screaming a second time, but the substance had reached her face and her jaw felt locked in place. Her body wouldn't move, and before the darkness blinded her, she saw the creature that had grabbed her arm turn into the same crimson substance that had trapped her.