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Title : Saving Grace
Written for the avengers reverse big bang and inspired by the art of gottalovev.
Fandom : Avengers - MCU
Pairing : Steve/Tony
Characters : Loki, Frigga, Steve, Tony, Odin, Heimdall, Thor and Clint.
Rating :PG-13
Word Count : a little under 29,000 in total (5 chapters)
Warning : Mentions of a drunk driving incident(not a Main Character), also brief mention of domestic abuse.
Disclaimer : All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.
Huge thanks to gottalovev for the inspirational art and for letting me take it where it would. It was great to work with you. Thanks to my special group of cheerleaders – your help was much appreciated and to monchichi for your beta skills. All of you helped make this fic better than I could do alone. Thank you.
Summary: Frigga is sure that her youngest son is not lost to her forever. He just needs one chance to prove that he can be saved, that he is worthy of being saved. Midgard was the making of Thor, perhaps that may be where some of the answers lie . . . there and in the heart of Jotunheim.
Chapter 1
Kneeling on the steps of Odin's throne yet again, surrounded by all the glistening majesty of the Aesir, Loki looked up at Odin and Thor and knew they weren't listening to his plea, to his explanation of anything that had happened, anything that he had done. Loki wasn't even sure how many times he had returned to this position, how long he had been trying to convince them of his words, make them see and understand what he had learned. It was futile, all they could see in him now was the son who had betrayed them, the brother who had turned to evil. The irony wasn't lost on him that it was their betrayal that had brought him to this pass in the first place.
Odin appeared so distant now, sat on his great golden throne, surrounded by the spoils of war and the riches of his kingship. The All-father, King of the Aesir, God of legends felt a million miles distant as Loki knelt below him on the steps in his plain trousers and simple shirt. Since Thor had returned with him to Asgard, Loki had been stripped of all his former trappings of royalty. No longer did Loki wear the clothes of a prince; no longer was there a pretence that he was a worthy prince of Asgard.
Dim memories of childhood approval didn't fit with the man before him in the Great Hall. It had been so long since Loki had thought of the times he had sat on his father's knee, listened to him spin tales of wonder, heard his praise for lessons well learned. It felt like a lifetime ago, like he had been a different person then.
Truth . . . for so long Odin had lied, denied him the honesty of telling him who he really was, where he came from. Yet what was he being punished for? For telling the truth? He had spoken truly that he was owed more than he had been given in all of his years as a prince in this throne room; he had earned the right to far more than standing back and watching Thor be lauded over him. And he told the truth now, yet no one would listen. Neither of them would listen. Loki tilted his head a fraction, seeing his brother, arms folded, face implacable. Thor as pig-headed as ever. Loki didn't know why he had even hoped that his words would be heard and understood.
If it had been as simple as fear for his own safety, he would not even have tried to explain. Yes, he was frightened. Justifiably so. But somewhere inside, he did not want this to come down upon Asgard, upon Frigga . . . the part of him that remembered those happier days with Thor's friendship and Odin's approval did not really want them to suffer what was coming either. He looked at Frigga where she stood regally to one side of the throne, ever loyal to her husband here in public. Yet Loki knew in private, she had often curbed some of Odin's punishments for his and Thor's childish misdemeanors. She was a picture of beauty, wearing her years well.
As their eyes met, Loki was sure that he could see a faint spark of approval for his words there. But then maybe he was clutching at straws, desperate for a connection, for someone to listen. Yet he was being punished not for childishness, not for foolishness. Loki knew in the eyes of Odin and Thor, his sins were far worse, yet not one of them could see how they had pushed him to act so, forced his hand in the search for justice and truth. A childhood memory came back to him, Odin saying, "Only one of you may be heir to my throne, yet both of you were born to be kings." It was true, more truth than the rest of his childhood, and yet he had had that stolen from his grasp, even though he had not understood it at the time, but rather had thought it was a test to see whether he or Thor would prove to be the most worthy.
Weariness overtook him at the uselessness of his efforts as Odin again dismissed him peremptorily and called forth the guards to lead him back to his cell. There as ever he was left to his own thoughts. Left to the knowledge of what was coming for him, for Asgard and Midgard also.
He looked again at the books his mother had brought to help him while away the hours of solitude. He had read them all and waited for her next visit to bring him more as he knew she would. A kindness that Odin had granted. He wondered whether it was out of a sense of duty to Frigga or out of some vague sentimentality to the son Loki had once been that Odin had allowed him to be held prisoner here in the Tower since his return, rather than in the dungeons. Perhaps it was guilt, guilt that his own lies and treachery had forced Loki's actions.
Loki knew that what he had done was unforgivable; that it seemed as if he had thoughtlessly unleashed the might of the Chitauri onto Midgard. His actions were nothing that they could ever understand because no one had taken the time to look beyond the obvious and question his actions, his motivation in what he did. No one understood the driving force within him to be someone, to make something of his life by way of righting the wrongs that had seen the fall of Jotunheim, seen him isolated from his own kind. He knew that on face value many thought he had been treated lightly, kept in isolation, fed and not mistreated and yet . . .
Loki sat down exhausted by the churning fear and the way his blood chilled in his veins at the thought of the might, the wrath behind the Chitauri, the real threat to the Nine Realms. There was a light knocking at the door ahead of the key turning in the lock. "Mother," he greeted sadly as Frigga stepped into the room, for every bit like she'd just knocked and entered his bedchamber rather than his prison.
She set a pile of books down onto the table and took him in her arms. "Oh Loki," she said sadly. "I wish things had not come to this."
He shuddered and her arms tightened protectively. "I cannot stay long, my son," she said, "But I shall return later."
He wished so many things could have been different, but one thing he knew had never faltered was Frigga's love. He didn't think she would ever really understand the things he had done or the reasons why and he knew she would change them if it were in her power. He didn't know why she still loved him or why he still loved her despite the fact that she had been part of the treachery and deceit that had let him believe he was of Asgard. Yet whenever he thought of her, he was filled with memories of the signs of her love, of her stitching outfits just for him, of sitting on her lap as she told him tales of magic and wonder, of her never losing patience with him as he tried and tried to live up to Odin's expectations and Thor's example.
"Mother," he choked the word out and she held him tight, her hand running soothingly over his back as if he were still a child. "Mother, I tell them the truth. They do not understand the threat, yet they will not believe me."
She sighed and took a small step away so that she could see him. She swiped a thumb across each of his cheeks and under his eyes, her small hands framing his face and still looking at him with love. Love that he knew he did not deserve any longer. "Loki," she sounded resigned, "Odin and Thor . . . they do still love you and they do listen to you, but they cannot trust the words that you say no matter how they want to. They have increased the patrols and the border guards, but there is little more they can do at this time. There is nothing to prove you speak the truth and, Loki, there have been so many, many lies. You must understand this."
"Mother, it will not be enough," he pleaded. "While I am here, they will come and Asgard will pay. The Chitauri were nothing, nothing to the true strength that he wields." Loki made no attempt to hide either the rasp in his voice from repeating his pleas so many times or the desperation of needing her to believe him.
"Loki, I have brought you books to help pass the time. I think you should start at the top of the pile and work your way through them in order," she said, already pulling away from him.
"Mother –"
"The first is about Jotunheim. I think you may find it interesting, my son. Now rest for a while, I can see you are tired. I must leave you now, but I shall visit again later."
Loki stood defeated as Frigga walked to the door and tapped twice, waiting until the guard unlocked the door to take her leave. As the door closed behind her, he turned away moving to the window to look out over the world beyond; a world that he could no longer be a part of. "If I could change one thing . . ." he murmured to himself.
He stood silently, time slipping by unheeded, but eventually he heard the door behind him open, servants move to place trays of food on the table behind him before the door closed and the key turned again.
He left the window and moved across to the table, seeing his mother's hand in the food laid out before him. She was worried about his lack of appetite he knew. She was worried about so many things for him, yet there seemed to be nothing he could do to take that concern away. He selected a piece of fruit, knowing that she was right he did need sustenance and no matter how he felt, he needed to try and retain some strength for the coming fight. He took the fruit and the first of the books from the pile and moved to sit down in comfort, curling his legs up close as he had been wont to do as a child.
He took a bite of the fruit and began to read about Jotunheim.
Loki knew he was living on borrowed time and so was Earth. There would be no forgiveness for what had happened. He wondered, as he spent yet another sleepless night sitting by the window looking out into the night sky, whether he had ever intended any of what happened there, whether any of it had been his own choice.
Defeat tasted bitter, yet somehow it was worse when he knew it was his own mistakes that had caused it. If only he had been good enough, if only Odin had truly seen him as his son, if he'd truly had a chance to be the king he deserved to be.
Or maybe it would have been better if he'd known the truth from the start that he was Laufey's son and a runt at that. If he'd known that would he have acted differently? He had no answer. From a father who had despised him, if Odin were to be believed in that, to a father who had lied to him but behaved as if he did care. Loki had no idea what the truth was any more.
Lies and deceit. He's been accused of that so many times, yet how could he have been different when it was all he knew, all he'd been bred to know?
Looking up into the night sky, he wondered whether they would come for revenge against him or Earth first. At least if Midgard fell, then Thor at least would understand that he spoke the truth about this threat.
He sat on the windowsill and drew the blanket closer round him, shivering in the chill air. As he breathed out steam fogged the glass and he dragged a finger through it, aware of how his skin was changing. He shuddered, forcing himself back into human form. He was no Jotun. He was no Aesir. He belonged nowhere, unwanted.
He picked up the book his mother had given him earlier and began to read again, wondering not for the first time what Jotunheim had been like before the battle with Odin. Had it been as cold and desolate as when he and Thor had ventured there?
The Jotun had power, that much had to be true, both from the book and from the power he himself could manifest. Had he been in Jotunheim would he have had greater understanding of his power, greater ability to control it? So many questions and still no answers. He thought of the people on Midgard turning to their gods for answers. Who does a god turn to when he himself is lost?
Steve let his head drop from one side to the other stretching out the tension in his neck and shoulders. It wasn't working or at least not as well as he had hoped.
"Hey," he heard Tony's voice behind him, just before a hand landed gently on his shoulder, turning him round. "Come on, let it go. What happened wasn't your fault, okay?"
Steve scrunched his eyes closed, pinched the bridge of his nose and took a few deep breaths, grateful that Tony didn't let go, but rather pulled him closer. "They're alive, Steve, and in the care of the best medics anywhere. There is nothing that won't be done to save them."
"They were children," he choked out.
"If only people's ability to parent was tested before they were allowed to have kids," Tony said bitterly. "Listen to me though, you need some rest, some sleep and then tomorrow we'll go back to the hospital to check on the kids. There is nothing more that can be done by us tonight. Tomorrow we start on making the world a better place for the three of them. We make sure they're getting the best care they can have and then we make sure that someone finds them parents who deserve them."
Steve gave a reluctant nod and let Tony lead him from the kitchen and up to their bedroom. He showered and changed into his sleep clothes on automatic, the only thing keeping him grounded was Tony's voice gently reminding him of where he was, what he was supposed to be doing.
Only Tony was keeping him from getting lost in his own memories of childhood.
He sat on the side of the bed until Tony pulled him down and curled around him, warm and comforting, the press of the arc reactor familiar against his back, one of Tony's hands entwined with his own. Gradually he relaxed and began to drift on the edge of sleep, slipping deeper and deeper until he jerked awake with a memory of fists and shouting and bruises on his mother, shuddering until the memory could be pushed away by Tony's warm reassurance and finally the present was able to reassert itself. Again and again until he finally slid beyond dreams.
Tony had waited until he was certain that Steve was deeply asleep before leaving the bed. Steve was exhausted, Tony knew that and so he had come to bed knowing that he himself couldn't sleep while the anger at the day's events churned inside him. It didn't matter though. This time he had put Steve first without question, without even needing to consider it.
He slipped downstairs to the lounge, making his way over to the bar and pouring a drink before realizing what he was doing. Cursing furiously, he took the bottle and the glass to the kitchen and tipped them away angrily before throwing the two into the sink, hearing the crack and tinkle of glass shattering before slumping at the table. How stupid could he be? Today of all days, the last thing Steve would need was to find him drinking or worse drunk.
Thoughts of all the ways that today could have played out still ran through his mind, over and over and over. A drunk driver was bad enough, but one who got into his car with three young children was unforgivable. He'd hit a semi, the two vehicles slipping and sliding on the narrow pass up a steep hill until the semi had finally come to rest the front end hanging over the cliff below with the car trapped beneath.
Steve had spent hours hanging onto the car, holding it in place and trying to reassure the terrified children inside that they were going to be okay, that he wouldn't let anything happen to them, he was going to get them out. All that time Tony had had to spend trying to figure out a way to move the semi so that they could get to the car knowing that the only thing keeping the car from plunging down the cliff was the weight of the semi resting on it. The slightest wrong movement could send either one over. There would be no second chances.
Pushing back from the table, Tony stormed down to the workshop needing to 'do' something to make a difference. "Jarvis, music!" he snapped as he walked in, slamming the door closed behind him. "And schematics for the suit. I need to add more power. I need to be able to lift more. There should have been a way to lift both of them back onto the road."
He picked up a wrench and hurled it across the room.
"Car schematics as well."
"Which model, sir?"
"It doesn't matter, I don't give a damn. If – if I can make something that detects alcohol and cuts out the engine, we can cross engineer it so it'll work on anything, but things like this can't be allowed to happen!"
"No sir," Jarvis agreed quietly.
Tony slumped at his workbench. "Things like that shouldn't happen, Jarvis."
"No sir, they shouldn't. It was a miracle that yourself and Master Steve were able to save the children. Sir, perhaps you would benefit from some sleep also before starting work on this project."
"No," Tony snapped shortly. "I can't sleep, I'm too fucking angry to sleep. Did you see how wrecked Steve was? The things this shit brings back for him. He's got enough bad stuff rolling around in his head without some drunk asshole getting an opportunity to add to it!"
"Quite, sir. The schematics for an Audi, sir, will that suffice for the moment?"
"Yes, Jarvis. Yes." Tony turned his attention to the screens before him and began to lose himself in his work.
Loki found it hard to believe what he was reading. It could be an answer, a shield . . . though if it were, why had Laufey not used it to protect Jotunheim from the wrath of Odin and later still from the incursions by Thor?
"I think you should start at the top of the pile and work your way through them in order." His mother's words came back to him. She had known this was in there. Without thinking he looked up at the door, expecting her to be standing there ready to explain. Disappointment flared when he found himself still alone, but he heard her words again, "I think you should start at the top of the pile and work your way through them in order." He still had a few more chapters of this book to make his way through, but he found himself heading back to the pile, looking through the titles and wondering at his mother's intentions.
He looked at the food still left on the table from earlier and without thinking found himself filling a plate before taking it, the book he was part way through and the next, back to his windowsill perch and beginning to read again.
He ate unconsciously as he read, sinking into the world in the book and seeking out the answers he needed. He read until his eyes could no longer see the words as he finally slipped into sleep just as the first hint of dawn hit the horizon.
Steve woke before dawn, jerked awake with the image of his mother falling backwards still before his eyes and a feeling of powerlessness as he watched unable to stop it from happening. He clutched at the bedcovers, trying to rid himself of the image, knowing it was so far in the past as to not make any difference any longer. His chance to set things right, to make things better for her were long past. He'd failed her. All his strength, all his supposed nobility and he'd never been able to keep his own mother from harm. He'd been too weak, too vulnerable to be able to do anything but watch, his feeble attempts at intervention only aggravating his father further.
He looked across the bed, hoping he hadn't woken Tony, only to find the other side of the bed empty. He swung his legs out of bed and let his head drop into his hands as he took a few deep breaths to try and steady himself.
He was still sitting there when he heard the door open and he looked up into Tony's pinched and tired face. "Oh, Steve," Tony shut the door and rushed to his side.
Steve accepted the embrace briefly before shrugging Tony off and pushing himself up. "Sorry," he said. "Had I kept you awake?"
Tony shook his head, silent momentarily before quietly admitting, "I couldn't sleep. I didn't want to disturb you and I couldn't just keep lying there replaying yesterday over and over in my head, so I went down to the workshop . . . it was a better use of my time . . . maybe . . ."
"You look tired," Steve said. It was a statement of fact, not an admonition which Tony appreciated.
"Yeah, guess so. I was kind of distracted . . . you know how it is . . ."
Steve nodded. "I'm . . . You should try and get some sleep now. At least a couple of hours before you have to face the day."
Tony nodded but didn't make a move as if he intended lying down. Steve rubbed a hand over his face awkwardly, then said, "I'll . . . I'll just . . ." He waved in the direction of the bathroom. "If you want, I could . . . come back. . . try and get some more sleep."
Tony knew what he was offering, knew also that if he was going to get any sleep at all, he needed Steve beside him. He nodded, "Yeah, yeah, that'd be good . . ." He didn't meet Steve's eyes, but instead reached down to untie the laces on his sneakers and pull them off. He wondered not for the first time how the two of them had ever managed before when they were both so screwed up and so bad at actually acknowledging what they needed. Then again, maybe they didn't need to acknowledge it, not when the other knew and understood anyway. Maybe for them that was enough.
Frigga stood in the doorway in silence, watching Loki sleep. She wasn't sure that the position was comfortable for him, more likely to leave him stiff she thought, but if she woke him now it was unlikely he would sleep again until exhaustion overtook him. She put a hand up to stop Thor entering the room.
"But Mother," he began, only to be silenced by her frown and the peremptory wave of her hand that shooed him back outside to wait for her. She was pleased to see that Loki had at least eaten a little of the food she had had delivered to him yesterday. He would need his strength for the forthcoming trials. She would send the servants with fresh food in an hour or two, when she was sure he would be awake again.
She saw that he had the first two of the books she had given him at his side, was certain that he would have seen their significance as he read. Carefully she stepped closer, knowing she didn't have long without Thor's suspicions being raised. She lifted her hand, letting it hover just above Loki's bent head and allowing her consciousness to slide out along it and inch inwards to see her son's dreams. She wavered, feeling his pain, feeling his suffering at the hands of the Intruder. She could also sense his loneliness and isolation, his overwhelming impression of not belonging and not being wanted. "Oh, Loki," she sighed, wishing she could take that away from him. It wasn't the first time that she had looked into his dreams and seen his suffering at the hands of the Intruder, but she needed him to tell Thor and Odin of it. This was not something she could mediate for him.
Knowing Thor would be growing impatient outside, she drew her hand back and with one final look at her lost son, she turned and left the room.
Tony woke slowly, pressed against Steve's side, head resting on Steve's chest and the feel of fingers tracing lightly up and down his arm. For a few moments he felt relaxed before thoughts of the previous day began to creep back in. He shifted position a fraction, felt Steve's fingers falter and then resume their light movement. He tilted his head and pressed a kiss against Steve's chest, then ran a hand down his face, rubbing sleep away and waking up properly before pushing himself to sit up.
"Hey," he said quietly.
"Hey," came the familiar reply.
"You good?" Tony said, voice still quiet in the darkened room.
"I'm good. You?"
It was a lie or at the least an untruth, but Tony followed it with one of his own, "Yeah, I'm good. New day and all that. Things to do, people to see." He grinned, a quick flash of teeth, then stood up and headed for the bathroom.
Downstairs in the kitchen, Tony found Clint perched on the counter beside the coffee maker, yawning, pouring coffee and drinking it and then yawning again as he reached back for another refill.
"Hey Cupid, when did you get back?"
"Ha, ha," Clint grumbled, as he glanced down at his watch, "Three hours ago."
"So why are you mainlining coffee and not just heading to bed?"
"Debrief at 0900. Sadistic bastards – not like they've just spent the last week with next to no sleep. Seriously, they don't seem to understand the concept of rest and recuperation!"
"You should file a complaint, clutter up Fury's desk or Hill's or . . ." Tony waved a hand absently as if it was unimportant whose desk it cluttered, so long as it wasn't his.
"So where's lover boy?" Clint teased.
"We're not joined at the hip! He's in the shower, he'll be down in a while," Tony snapped testily.
"Nah, you're joined somewhere else entirely!" Clint snarked back. "So I hear the two of you got called out yesterday. Sounded nasty from what I heard."
"It was and who's been telling you? Just keep it quiet, it's not something that needs to be talked about!"
Clint raised his eyebrows at the menace in Tony's voice. He seemed to give it a moment's thought before glancing at his watch again and hopping down from the counter stiffly. As Tony went to push past him to the fridge, he moved quickly, lifting his hand and flicking his finger against Tony's forehead. "You're a real asshole sometimes, Stark, but what you don't seem to have realized, regardless of how often you remind us you're a genius, is that you aren't in this alone. You've got loverboy and us. Even if we aren't there with you on the ground, we're with you in thought and when you get back. So you don't actually have to be an asshole about shit. Now time is ticking onward, I have places to be, boring as they are and so I shall see you and Steve later – I hope to be back in time for dinner so if someone's cooking make enough for me and Tasha or if you're ordering in, count us in. See ya!" He waved as he headed out of the kitchen.
Tony slumped against the kitchen, rubbing at his face as he tried to pull himself together, knowing that there was more truth in Clint's words than he wanted to admit.
Frigga looked at Thor as he paced, impatient as ever. "Well, will he listen to reason yet?" he demanded.
"Reason about what, Thor?"
"About his lies and deceit and his jealousy of Father's having chosen me as heir?"
Frigga shook her head and turned to the window of her chamber, crossing to it and looking out over the city beyond. "It is not so simple as you would have it, my son," she said eventually. "Loki is well aware of his own failings and misjudgements, but he feels he acted with cause."
"With cause? What cause? What reason could he have for such treachery? And how could his jealousy of me and my position be logical reason for what he did on Midgard?"
"You have not seen the world through his eyes and until you have, I fear, you will not be able to understand his actions. He is not blameless, yet he is also not the only one to blame. In concealing his origins, a lie has been put in place, in his eyes, that made mockery of his being part of our family. It leaves him adrift, not a true son of Asgard, yet not of Jotunheim either. Loki is lost and has been since he discovered his birthplace. When he fell from the Bifrost, none could have forseen what happened to him. One must never underestimate the power of his suffering in that time, nor the outside influence that would drive him to commit such atrocities."
Thor stepped closer to his mother, one hand reaching out to rest on her shoulder. "Mother, your heart is kind and generous, but methinks you are too forgiving of Loki's sins when he himself has shown no sign of remorse."
Angrily Frigga shook off his hand and glared at her son, "Do not patronize me, Thor Odinsson. You are not free of sin in your life or in your dealings with Loki. You have gloated over your triumphs, knowing that Loki's strength has never lain on the battlefield. You claim to love your brother, yet you have thought nothing of exploiting his weaknesses, of making him feel inferior."
"It was nothing but a little sibling rivalry. In my heart, I never wished him any ill."
Frigga sighed, "No, I know you didn't and I wish I had seen just what effect it was having on his heart. If I had only . . . maybe none of this may have come to pass."
"Mother, you do not bear the blame in this."
"Thor, he speaks the truth of the threat or the truth as he knows it. Asgard and Midgard are in danger of retribution being sought for his failure in accomplishing his task."
Thor looked resigned, "I shall speak with Father, but without proof of his words, there is little I can do." He walked dejectedly to the door. "I shall speak with father directly."
Frigga watched him leave, then turned her attention back in the direction of Loki's confinement. Time was running out, she would have to force Loki's hand.
