A/N: Hi, everyone! It took me longer than expected to start writing this, but now it's here, and I hope you'll enjoy it. The story follows the events of Thor the Dark World to some extent, but a lot of it is going to be different. To avoid any confusion: there is no alignment in this fic.

Some of the contents may be triggering (see the rating), but if you survived TDW, you should be fine. I won't write warnings here so as to not spoil anything. If anyone's worried, you can tell me, and I'll start including them in the A/N at the end.

Disclaimer: everything belongs to its rightful owner.

You've got the words to change a nation
But you're biting your tongue
You've spent a life time stuck in silence
Afraid you'll say something wrong
If no one ever hears it how we gonna learn your song?

So come on, come on
Come on, come on
You've got a heart as loud as lions
So why let your voice be tamed?
Maybe we're a little different
There's no need to be ashamed
You've got the light to fight the shadows
So stop hiding it away
Come on, come on

(Emili Sande—Read All About It)

Chapter I–Called the Nightmares

Daymare (noun): a frightening hallucinatory condition experienced while awake

Rough fingers were digging in his flesh, holding his body down, and his teeth were twisting his bloodied lip—don't give them the satisfaction, don't—

His legs were forced apart, and then fingers were between them, and his insides rebelled, suddenly desiring to taste the cold air that smelled of death...

His eyes snapped open, breath caught in his throat, but he stopped his body before it could move. A moment later, the heels of his palms covered his eyes, pressing down against the flesh.

His insides felt cold. The kind of cold that had nothing to do with winter, not even the cold waste of Jotunheim.

Gently, he pried Tony's arm from around his own body and slid out of the bed. His gaze found his discarded clothes, and for a moment, he wanted nothing more than to pull them on as fast as possible to cover his exposed body. He didn't, though. The clothes were wrinkled and dirty, and there were fresh ones in the closet.

He used to like the nights. Now, he couldn't decide whether he hated or feared them.

After dressing in sweatpants and one of Tony's hoodies, he dragged himself into the kitchen, his bare feet soundless against the floor. There wasn't much food in the fridge. Not that he had an appetite. In the end, he boiled some water and tossed in some herbs, then found the blueberries that Tony hadn't used the day before. The man probably wouldn't be surprised anymore if he saw Loki eating them frozen. Which he was about to do; he took the mug of steaming tea and the bag of fruit that had been carelessly ripped apart, and settled on the terrace, leaning against the facade of the house with his back.

Perhaps sex had not been the best idea. He could have waited. But it was so much easier to deal with Tony's lust than with his own; the first he could pretend to overlook, and Tony never pushed. With the latter he either had to resort to denial or indulge it. It presented a danger either way.

He took a sip of tea. Let the taste of mint linger in his mouth before he swallowed.

Yesterday had been so... nice. Safe. A little bubble of affection that his nightmares had managed to pierce so effortlessly. Had their intercourse, no matter how pleasant, how intimate, called the nightmares to his mind?

He wished, quite suddenly, Tony would be here with him. Yet the man could do nothing about Loki's troubles. In a way, it was similar to struggling with the discovery that his sexual preferences weren't strictly limited to women, but not quite the same. It was not the type of sexuality he was struggling with; it was the fact he had a sexuality at all, and by now his fears had subsided enough that he couldn't suppress it any longer. Not completely. It didn't matter how pleasurable Tony made it (and he made it quite pleasurable), Loki was afraid of his own body's needs.

He squeezed the mug in irritation. Pathetic. So pathetic. He'd managed to deal before, he would manage now.

Perhaps he should wake Tony. Somebody needed to make sure his friends got back to America, and Loki saw no reason why he should be that someone. He'd gone to certain lengths to assure his relationship with them was civil, but they were Tony's friends first (even if they'd brought Loki presents).

Putting another handful of blueberries in his mouth, he got to his feet.

Tony was still sprawled all over the bed in his usual way that caused the corners of Loki's lips twitch involuntarily. The mattress dipped under the god's weight. His hand came to rest on Tony's shoulder and shook. The man grumbled something that didn't sound even remotely like a word, and Loki shook him again. This time, chocolate brown peeked through thick eyelashes.

"Hey, snowflake," Tony muttered. "Awake already?"

"Your friends will be mad."

"Who wanted them to come with us, huh?" Tony rubbed his eyes.

Loki shrugged. "It was fun enough."

"True." Tony's fingers brushed the arm the god was leaning on. "Come back to bed."

He was tempted to. So very tempted. But the closeness had lost its appeal for now, so he pulled his arm away. Tony frowned.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing. I'm going to make waffles. Do you want some?"

"Like I would ever say no to waffles." Tony sat up. "And I suppose I should get the team back to the USA if they haven't found a way already."

Loki nodded and wanted to leave, but a grip on his wrist stopped him. Tony climbed onto his knees, pulled Loki downwards, and pressed his lips over the god's, morning breath and all, but Loki found himself returning the kiss. It was everything that was good about Tony: safety, affection, acceptance. Love. For once, Loki was good enough for somebody.

The remnants of the dream reverberating in his mind lost a bit of their power. Pushing his hair back and tying it up, he walked back into the kitchen downstairs-

And froze at the door.

"Jarvis? What is the meaning of this?" He narrowed his eyes at the form sitting by the table. "I don't think we were expecting visitors."

"Mr Odinson said it was urgent."

"It doesn't appear very urgent." In fact, Thor was still sitting as if he belonged there, as if it was his birth-given right.

"My apologies, sir."

"Brother..."

"What do you want?"

He really wasn't in the mood to deal with this.

Thor sighed. Perhaps he didn't look quite so self-assured after all. Worry had sharpened his features.

"I require your help."

"My help?" Loki closed the distance to the counter with a few steps and leaned against it. "What would you need my help with, I wonder. I believe I was nothing more than a common whore to you. Why don't you ask one of Asgard's concubines to assist you."

"I never said that!"

Loki's hands balled into fists. "You never had to!"

"Loki, please. I have not come to argue."

"No, you came asking for a favour. Why should I listen to your requests?"

Thor entwined his fingers, then separated them and did it again. "It is about Jane Foster."

"What of her? If you wanted advice," Loki spat, "on how to get between her legs, perhaps you should be asking Tony."

"That's enough!" Thor slammed his fists down on the on the table. "Stop speaking of yourself in such a manner! And not a word about Jane."

Loki narrowed his eyes. "Get out."

"It's about the Aether."

"Aether."

"Yes. It has entered Jane's body. Father said she couldn't be helped."

"Then why do you come to me for help?" Loki turned his back on Thor and took a glass out of the cupboard; he'd left the mug in their bedroom.

"If I do nothing, the Aether will kill her."

Water swirled in the glass. "I am not overly familiar with the Aether. In fact, I am not familiar with it at all." He knew the stories, of course, but he was neither in the mood nor in the position to do more research; of all the things Asgard possessed, the library was one of the few he missed.

"Loki, please..." Thor's gaze was pleading. "How would you feel if Stark was going to die?"

His chest constricted painfully. No. He wouldn't think about that.

"I don't know how to get the Aether out of her, Thor."

"You know the books... Is there nothing...?"

Loki pressed his lips together. How fiercely Thor sought to protect his woman. How he had said nothing now and again when Loki had been mocked for a millennium. How nobody had come to help him, how nobody had even asked, nobody but Stark, the man who, at that time, was supposed to be his enemy... Bitter words filled his mouth, but he swallowed them. Thor didn't need to know, and Loki didn't need his pity.

"Perhaps you should read a book or two," he suggested. "Paid attention to the stories. The Aether cannot be destroyed."

"What if the stories lie?"

"What of it? The solution remains hidden. Now get out of my house."

Of course he wouldn't obey. His hands dropped heavily onto Loki's shoulders.

"She will die. You would let her die to spite me?"

Loki growled. Had Thor no semblance of a brain in his head? Did he really think everything was about him and him alone? Incapable of accepting the fact Loki did not know a way to pull the Aether out of somebody, and how would he, even, when all he had heard were stories, and stories could be relied on about as much as earthly weather in November. Incapable of believing not everything that left Loki's mouth was insincere. The Trickster wondered why it hurt each and every time; he had given Thor (and the rest of Asgard) an abundance of reasons to mistrust him, yet a small, pathetic part of him was still disappointed every time they didn't believe him. A fool, that's what he was. A sentimental fool.

His lips parted to form a reply, but Thor was faster.

"You think Stark would approve of this pettiness?"

Loki's blood boiled.

"Don't you dare bring Tony into this! Don't you dare!" He pointed towards the exit in one mad gesture. "Now get out," he hissed between his teeth. "Get out before I decide to kill your woman myself!"

A storm raged in Thor's eyes, lightning ready to strike, still he turned slowly, threw one more dark glare over his shoulder, and walked away. Half a minute later, Jarvis announced Thor had left the premise, and Loki gripped the edge of the counter with enough force that his knuckles turned snow white and the material itself came closer to denting than Tony would ever want it to be, and that was the only reason it remained in one piece right now.

His breathing rattled through his chest. For a moment, he stood still. Then, he bolted for the door, fighting the instinct to set something on fire, and sucked in a lungful of crisp morning air. His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides as his legs carried him away from the house, down one street, then another, just away, and he wished teleportation wouldn't demand so much effort so he could reappear in some desolate place where his anger would disturb and sadden only him.

Did he think Tony would approve? Of course he didn't. Tony was good, better than Loki would ever be, and Tony' approval... was important. But years and years of insults stung. Worst of all, Thor wasn't even aware. Even when he should have started thinking, some things have never crossed his mind. Perhaps a Jotun's brain really did work differently... But if Loki's brain was the representation of the whole species...

No.

He had to be an exception, brought up in Asgard as he'd been. The Jotnar were monsters. He was a monster. What did Tony see in him?

Tony wouldn't like to see him thinking that... He was sure. But the man didn't know, and no amount of his dislike could change the truth.

He didn't know how much time had passed; by now, he could turn his mind off and simply let his feet carry him around the neighbourhood. Sun rays were caressing his skin in a gentle, soothing way, so very different from the way they could scorch it in the summer that it was sometimes hard to believe they came from the same sun. The weather was getting colder again. It was quite pleasant now; Loki preferred it over summer, but he wasn't overly fond of winters, either; the memory of cold biting into his bones was all too clear in his mind.

Heading back might be the best. Tony was probably wondering where he was... And leaving his phone at home had not been the smartest thing he had ever done. But Thor was terribly talented in agitating him beyond belief...

He huffed, clenching his hands into fists. Of course Thor would stay on his mind even when he was gone. Thor was always on everybody's mind. But that was the problem, wasn't it? It was always Thor.

He shook his head minutely and headed towards home. Perhaps Tony would suggest going to Malibu again. Loki liked it there, but they had only stayed for about two weeks in August. It was too hot for him, and while he could take the heat, it was making him feel tired and uncomfortable; there were still memories in his mind, sharp like shards of broken glass. But now the climate should be milder, and Loki enjoyed the swimming (although Tony had not been impressed with his idea to swim by the cliffs at first. Sometimes, the man still had a hard time understanding what Loki's body was and wasn't capable of).

He crossed the last street, had Jarvis open the gate to the garden, and he walked back to the house. The soles of his feet ached, but he didn't care too much; they weren't bleeding. He headed for the bathroom, partly to clean his feet, partly to relieve himself, and when he emerged again, Tony was there, waiting.

"Hi." Loki deliberately brushed his hand against the man's as he moved towards the living room.

"Hey. What happened?"

Tony followed. Of course Tony followed. There was some kind if security in the knowledge that he would. But Tony asked, too, because for some reason he managed to read Loki like a book, and as much as that made him feel warm inside, it could also be annoyingly inconvenient, especially considering Loki did not feel like sharing his encounter with Thor.

"I had a bad dream," he said simply, sat down on the l-shaped sofa, and stretched his back. Tony settled beside him.

"Want to tell me about it?"

"Not particularly. It was nothing special."

"It drove you out of the bed." Tony's hand brushed against Loki's; a brief, feather-light touch that carried warmth with it, the kind of warmth that somehow managed to travel straight to Loki's chest.

"Was sex a bad idea?"

Loki shook his head. A no was much simpler than the mess in his head. He did not regret the night. He just... didn't know.

"Your friends," he said, moving his hand just a bit in hopes that Tony might take hold of it. "Have they returned home?"

Tony's lips twitched upwards. "Yeah. They weren't overly amused, though. But, you know, I've always been sort of an ass, so at least they can't blame it on your influence."

"You really are an ass."

"Yeah. Tony Stark, genius billionaire playboy philanthropist ass. What do you think?"

"Not original enough." His hand half covered Tony's.

"Maybe. I'll work on it. Oh, there's Thai in the fridge if you want some. Also, how can you run around barefoot in October. Or is it November yet?"

"It's October." Loki pulled his legs up and crossed them.

"Right." Tony finally squeezed his hand. "Babe, I'm sorry about your dream."

Loki frowned. "I told you it was nothing... special."

"Please. You went out for half a day without bothering to put your shoes on. Don't give me that."

For a second or two, he contemplated telling Tony about Thor. But what if Tony thought he should have agreed to help? He wouldn't he mad, Loki knew as much, but seeing disproval in those brown eyes hurt in places where there should be no pain.

"Nothing new, then."

"Would it help you if you started meeting with Liv again?"

He shook his head. "Telling her won't change the past."

Tony's thumb began moving over the back of Loki's hand. "What about me?"

Loki shrugged. He could still feel the bruising grip on his thighs, the coldness of their fingers, the blood in his mouth, and the darkness... The darkness that had come before and had not left since...

He gripped Tony's fingers back. "Can we watch a movie?"

"Of course we can. I heard there are really cute minions in Despicable Me. What do you say?"

Don't hurt me. Promise you won't ever hurt me.

But he could not ask for that. What use was it, asking for impossibilities?

"It sounds all right." He leaned his head on Tony's shoulder though the position did nothing for his neck.

Tony wrapped an arm around his shoulders and pulled him closer.

~*oO*o*Oo*~

Jane felt her heartbeat reverberating through every inch of her body and echoing the shaky inhales she was trying to silence by pressing a hand over her mouth. Her lungs felt too small, her eyes were burning and unable to shift away from the figure that lay crumpled on the floor. She blinked when the lightning came, twitched at the display of rage she'd never seen in Thor before.

It was over so fast. Finally, she could allow herself to make a noise, but when she lowered her hand, nothing but quiet breathing came out.

Stepping out of her hiding place, she watched the old King gather the Queen in his arms as if pressing her against his chest could somehow cause his heartbeat to become contagious, and her eyes to open again.

She watched as Thor, his face a mask of pain-stricken shock, stared at his mother and then slowly, slowly made a step towards her. Another one. Another.

He dropped to his knees and with gentleness that seemed almost uncharacteristic caressed Frigga's cheek.

A tear fell and disappear into dark blond locks.

Jane couldn't see Odin's face, since it was buried in the bloodied folds of the Queen's dress, but suddenly, the old Áss screamed, roared in pain, and threw his head back. Jane twitched. Thor turned to his father, more silent tears slowly rolling down his cheeks. His hand squeezed Odin's forearm.

Jane lowered her head. It was their private grief she was intruding on. Their loss. Although she had nothing but admiration for the woman who'd willingly endangered herself to save her kingdom, Frigga had been a stranger to her.

Perhaps she should leave.

But perhaps Thor could find some comfort in her presence? In her safety? Did she even matter now when his mother was dead and he overcome with grief? She could hardly compare to a mother, or what she had with Thor with a bond more than thousand years old.

Tentatively, she lifted her eyes to Thor's face. As if feeling her gaze, he looked up, and his lips twitched as if he was trying to smile for her. She shook her head.

No, he didn't have to force on a smile for her.

No, she wasn't hurt.

No, she didn't know what to do, either.

"Jane," he said quietly.

Her steps were slow as she approached Thor, every movement slowed by uncertainty, but he stood and stretched his hand towards her; his palm was warm on the side of her neck.

"I'm sorry," she said.

"Jane." He gave her neck a gentle squeeze and let go. He turned. Placed the same hand on Odin's shoulder.

"Father."

Odin's eye was dry, but strangely absent and red.

"She's dead," he whispered.

Thor nodded.

Jane looked away.

"We cannot stay here," Thor said.

Movement made Jane look again. Thor was holding Frigga in his arms, and Odin stood beside him, looking numb. Jane followed the two gods without thinking. As soon as they came through the door, though, she saw guards running towards them, their armour rattling.

They came to an abrupt halt, eyes on Frigga's body. Pressed their fists to their chests and sank to the floor.

Perhaps it was a way to give their condolences. Jane was hardly a good judge of what was proper here, but they weren't being very helpful.

She suddenly felt very out of place.

~*oO*o*Oo*~

It was evening when Thor entered her rooms after she'd been left alone for hours. Deep lines made his face look older. His steps were tired.

Without a word, Jane took his hand and led him to the sofa by the fireplace. The soft crackling of fire served as background noise. It was relaxing, in some way.

Thor squeezed Jane's hand.

"The funeral will be just before dawn."

"That is… very fast."

"We are at war, Jane Foster. The enemy will not rest."

"Then stop being at war," she murmured. "Until morning. Stop being at war." She turned towards him, hand reaching up to touch his face. "Rest."

He covered her hand with his own and pressed it against his face.

"I cannot believe she is gone," he breathed.

Jane didn't say anything. Slowly, she guided his head down until it was resting in her lap, her fingers carding through her hair.

"It is my fault," he said.

"No."

"I could have been faster. I could have saved her."

"It is not your fault, Thor," Jane said gently. For it was hers. Her curiosity had endangered an entire realm.

She knew what Thor's answer to her thoughts would be, so she didn't voice them. But that didn't stop her eyes from tearing up.

~*oO*o*Oo*~

Loki refused the invitation to bed. But sometime in the middle of the night, Tony felt the mattress shift, and opened his eyes a crack. Loki wasn't looking at him as he crawled under the blanket and curled up against Tony's side. His breathing lulled the billionaire back to sleep.

A/N: Reviews are very welcome ^^

Merry Christmas everyone!

~shades