Twilight of the Gods

by Kala Sathinee

Seers had foretold this day. For a thousand years men and gods had known that Asgard would fall. He should have known this day would come, but Loki had never put much stock in prophecies. Thor/Loki, Warnings: suggestions of sex, violence, gore, character death, angst. EDIT: I have now edited this story within an inch of its life. It's longer, it's meaner. Enjoy?

Twilight of the Gods

Seers had foretold this day. For two thousand years men and gods had known that Asgard would fall. It was inevitable. As certain as Midgard's sun swallowing her whole, as inexorable as the expansion of the universe. Loki had been raised with the story. But he had never put much stock in prophecies. They were made to be broken, after all. And even if he had believed that it would come to pass, he'd never believed that he would live to see it. He'd thought they'd escaped this fate when Thanos had fallen to Thor and Ms. Grey in Valaskjalf's courtyard.

Seeing the gleaming spires of Asgard lit not by the setting sun but the flames leaping from burning buildings was more horrible than any nightmare Loki had ever been cursed with. He couldn't wake from this. He could hear the clash of weapons and the screams of dying Asgardians, and amongst them, the triumphant roaring of frost giants and fire demons. Another explosion rocked the floor, rattling goblets and trinkets. The Sakaarian swords on the far wall slipped from their hooks and crashed to the floor. The distant baying of some monstrous hound raised goosebumps on his skin. He would rather have fought every frost giant in Jotunheim than face that beast.

He cast one final glance around the royal chambers—at the unmade bed that he and Thor had rushed from in the dim predawn, at the empty bookcases whose tenants were now among those tomes being carted toward the Bifrost, at the shelves of trophies and gifts that there was no time to salvage. The Marauder helmets they'd taken from the battle on Vanaheim, the blade he'd stolen off the Kursed on Svartalfheim, the Ultron head that Thor had insisted on keeping, and the Gladiator helmets they'd worn in the Grandmaster's ring would have to remain behind. Loki ran his fingertips over the glass Tesseract that Tony had given him in jest; engraved letters on its side read "My Precious." He considered smashing it lest some demon or giant decide to add it to his horde, but he couldn't bring himself to.

There were a few things he'd saved. The vibranium knife Barnes had given him was in its sheath on his hip and the Thor's Hammer necklace that he'd been gifted by Jane Foster was around his neck. Several of his Asgardian magical tomes were in a satchel with instructions to deliver them to Stephen Strange—along with the vambrace that contained the Space Stone.

He extinguished the candles with a snap of his fingers, called Iss Hjarta to his hand, and turned his back on the room. A brief fantasy of returning here after the battle flitted across his mind but he abandoned the thought. False hope was as dangerous as hopelessness. He needed neither.

An explosion, much closer than the last, jolted the floor as Loki swept into the hall. He heard glass and masonry shatter on floor tiles somewhere to the south. Einherjar ran past him, toward the source of the sound, and between them, heading in the opposite direction, was Frigga. She was armoured, but carried no weapon; instead, her hands were full of scrolls and books. Attendants carried more, most of them histories. A few hefted historical relics. Eir had the core components of the Soul Forge strapped to her back.

"Are the children ready?" Loki asked, raising his voice over the shouts of guards and the bark of weapons-fire.

"They're in the stables. The path to the Bifrost is still clear." Frigga glanced around, looking as flustered and ragged as Loki felt. "It's safe for the moment, but we must leave now." She clasped Loki's arm and made to pull him down the hall, but he held his ground.

"Where's Thor?"

His mother looked pained. "He's outside with your father. Fighting."

Before he could properly process the thought, the floor heaved beneath them; the stone of the walls and ceiling cracking and showering them with dust. The end of the hall exploded inward, engulfing guards and furnishings in blue flame. Loki bolted toward the shattered masonry, sceptre raised. A pair of jotun berserkers clambered up onto the newly-formed ledge, and Loki fired. They fell and a fire demon rose in their place. Loki stomped his foot to the floor and ice shot across the few meters to the ledge, shooting up in spikes to impale the creature. Frozen, it shrivelled and fell from view. Before more could come Loki turned to the scattered guardsmen.

"Take the wounded to the Bifrost. The rest of you, form up! Nothing comes through this gap!"

"Yes, my Queen," the nearest captain bowed his head, then turned, relaying the orders down the line. Einherjar rushed forward, blocking the stricken wall. The sound of energy weapons rang out again, this time in controlled bursts. Loki returned to Frigga's side.

"I'll escort you to the Bifrost." He glanced up and down the damaged hall. "Is everyone out of the building?"

"I made certain of it."

"Good." Loki signalled the guard captain. "Once we've cleared the stables, withdraw from Valaskjalf and make your way to the rearguard line."

"Yes, Your Majesty."

vvvvv

---

They made it to the Bifrost without opposition; nearly three hundred men, women and children and a small detachment of guards rode across the Rainbow Bridge, leaving the burning city behind them. Carried on their backs and in the saddlebags of their horses was all that would soon remain of their civilization; all their greatest texts and most precious treasures, a complete account of their history, a repository of their collective knowledge and science. Their culture would survive, at least.

Loki stood watch, wind tugging at his hair and cape as men, women, children, and horses fled into the safety of the Bifrost's golden dome. The sounds of battle were distant here—muffled thumps and whistles. A building collapsed in total silence, flames rising like a fountain in its wake. The cold salt wind drowned out the ring of swords and the screams of the dying. A small mercy. Instead, he heard the soft weeping of those passing him, the shaking voices of parents consoling children, the sombre acknowledgments of his people. Each "my Queen", each brief clasp of his hand, felt like a farewell.

Loki held his head high and swallowed down the trembling in his chest. His people were looking to him. He needed to appear confident.

"Mom?"

Loki looked down. Narfi, thin and gangly and so pale in this light, stood before him, his satchel hanging on his shoulder, seams straining around books. He had his Valkyrie cape on, though someone had secured it tight with a belt from which a short sword hung. Behind him, Thrud and Vali held hands. Thrud was clutching Bilgy, the stuffed Bilgesnipe Volstagg had made for her when she was little. Both she and her brother were quiet and still, but their eyes were wide. The three of them were shivering.

Loki knelt, taking Narfi's hand in one of his, and Thrud and Vali's clasped hands in the other. "Don't look so sad. You're going to see our friends on Midgard. You love visiting them."

Thrud tugged her hand free and leapt past Narfi to throw her arms around Loki's neck. Vali followed her, burying his face in Loki's fabric collar. After a hesitant moment, Narfi, too, flung himself against Loki's golden armour. An ache settled in the depths of Loki's chest and he did his best to wrap his arms around all three of them. He could feel them shaking and he squeezed them tight to him, biting at the side of his tongue to keep back the sting in his eyes. He kissed the side of each of their heads. Their hair still smelled of the soap of last night's baths.

"Are you going with us?" Thrud asked.

"I have to make sure everyone else gets out first." Loki stroked Thrud's back. "I have to help your father."

"Will we get to come home?" Narfi whispered.

Loki looked over the children's shoulders toward where Asgard burned. "Probably not, darling." When Narfi sniffled, he continued. "But we'll have a new home on Earth. We'll get to see our friends every day. That doesn't sound so bad, does it?"

"But what about Asgard?"

Loki pulled back, holding his children at arms' length. He tipped Narfi's chin up and squeezed Vali's small shoulder. "Asgard isn't a place. It's a people." He kissed Thrud's cheek, then Narfi's, then wiped tears from Vali's and kissed it before fresh tears could retrace the trails. "Wherever we plant our feet, wherever we build our halls, wherever we sing our songs... that is Asgard."

Narfi nodded. Thrud and Vali looked back, but took each other's hands again. Loki stood, ruffling Narfi's hair, and pushed them toward the dome. They all resisted the push.

"Go on. I'll see you soon."

"Promise?" Vali said.

"Promise."

The lie was bitter as nightshade on Loki's tongue. It was probably the most necessary lie he'd ever told, yet it felt like the cruellest. Narfi, Thrud, and Vali ducked into the stream of evacuees, hands gripped in a chain, and headed for where Heimdall stood, beckoning them forward. Loki kept his eyes on them as long as possible—on Vali's blond and wavy hair, on the pink streak in Thrud's brown locks that Natasha had helped her dye, on the curved golden horns of Narfi's helmet, a mirror image in miniature of Loki's own helm.

Off to his left he heard Frigga's voice, gentle but firm. He couldn't make out her words, but the answer rang clear.

"No! I don't want to leave. I won't! I'm old enough to fight."

Loki turned at his eldest son's voice. Magni stood before Frigga, face flushed and hands shaking. He planted his feet as Frigga tried to guide him into the dome. He started to move back along the bridge, seizing the reins of his horse, and Loki stepped into his path. He put his palm to Magni's chest, meeting the boy's red and puffy eyes. Tear trails glinted on his cheeks.

"Go, Magni."

"Mother—"

"You are the heir to the throne. I will not have you risking your life."

"I'm old enough to fight. I'm old enough!" Magni tried again to push forward but Loki held him still. "I want to fight at father's side." He sniffed. "Please, mother. Please."

Loki swallowed. Magni was so much like Thor; it was like looking into the past, to another young prince desperate for a fight, desperate to prove himself. Loki cupped his son's chin and turned his face away from the burning city. "I know. I know you do." He tugged Magni against himself and looped his arms around him. Magni remained stiff and tense for a moment, but slumped when Loki smoothed down his blond hair. A single, convulsive sob rocked him; his forehead dropped against Loki's shoulder. "But I need you to be safe. Your father needs you to be safe."

Frigga's hand came to rest, ever so gently, on Magni's shoulder. "Your brothers and sister will need you, Magni. Your father can fight on without you. They cannot."

Magni shivered and wound his fingers in Loki's cape. He wept, almost silent, as Loki held him. He gasped in a breath and his voice came out small and trembling. "I'm never going to see you again, am I?"

Loki's breath left him. He closed his eyes against the sting welling in the corners. When he remembered how to breathe, he leaned to press a kiss to the side of Magni's head. "You may yet. The day isn't over." He stepped back, held Magni's face in his hands, and was acutely aware that there were tears on his cheeks now. "Whatever happens, take care of your siblings."

"I will. I promise."

"I love you, Magni."

"I love you too, mum."

Magni backed into the Bifrost dome, keeping his eyes on Loki as long as he could. Loki fought down the hollow terror that threatened to show on his face. He didn't want Magni to see his fear. Once his son had vanished into the crowd of evacuees, Loki let his head fall. Tears adhered his lashes and ran down his cheeks, but he made no sound.

He glanced up at the distant expanse of the bridge, at the towering gates where defensive canons were trading volleys with the blue-grey jotun ship hovering over the bay. He could feel the recoil vibrating through the crystal of the bridge. Nearby, a group of servants' children stood, huddled together and hugging their bags and cloaks close. They were frozen in place, flinching away from the rushing adults and nervous, high-stepping horses around them. Loki cut through the crowd and into the view of the children.

"Come along. Into the Bifrost," he said, holding out his hand to a small girl. The girl's eyes widened and she curtsied. Around her, the other children did the same.

Loki urged them forward, walking with them to the entrance of the Bifrost dome, where he passed the girl's hand to an aged man who, judging by the sword on his hip, had once been an Einherjar. As the last few children passed him, Loki felt a tugging on his cape. He turned and looked down into a pair of scarlet eyes.

Modi.

"I want to stay with you."

Modi's skin was deep blue, thin raised lines ran down his forehead and over his cheeks, spiralling over the backs of his hands. He must have been terribly frightened; he only changed when he was scared.

Loki knelt, pulling his youngest son close and giving him a squeeze. The boys little hands wound in the collar of his armour as he started to cry.

"Please, mummy. I don't want to go."

Loki pulled back and swept Modi's hair away from his face. He could feel a lump working its way into his throat and he tried in vain to swallow it.

"Everything is fine, Modi. We're going to go stay on Midgard for a while. I'll be along just as soon as your father and I have destroyed the jotnar." It wasn't technically a lie. But it was wishful thinking to the point of foolishness. "Magni will keep you safe." He kissed Modi's forehead. "I'll come fetch you when this is over."

Modi sniffed, rubbing his nose. "Why can't I stay with you?"

"I have to fight," Loki ruffled Modi's silky black hair. "But you are going to go visit Billy and Wanda. All right?"

Modi nodded and Loki wiped the tears from the boy's cheeks. He motioned to Frigga and she joined them by the doorway. She wasn't wearing her helmet and without it the fatigue in her face was even more pronounced. She smiled down at Modi, running a hand over the crown of his head. When she looked up she met Loki's eyes. Her smile was brittle, but the tears in her eyes didn't fall. "Saying goodbye to everyone but me?"

"I'll be right behind you."

A barely-perceptible flinch showed in the corners of Frigga's eyes as she tilted her head into the look that meant she had seen through whatever illusion he'd tried to throw at her. "You were always terrible at lying to me."

Loki hung his head. His voice cracked when he spoke. "Please don't make me say goodbye."

Frigga reached both hands up to cradle Loki's face. She brushed the wet trails off Loki's cheeks with the hem of one sleeve. "I love you my child, who is both son and daughter. I always have. And I always will."

The pain in Loki's chest sealed his throat and he dared not speak; if he did, he would start sobbing, and he wouldn't stop. Instead he let his head fall to Frigga's shoulder and wrapped his arms around her waist. She returned the embrace, clutching fistfuls of his cape. He felt her fingers tracing runes on his back and the buzz of magic.

"A protective enchantment. It should give you more time."

Loki took a deep breath. "I love you too, mother."

A quiet, half-choked sound left her and one hand slipped up to clutch at the back of his neck. "Make me proud," she said. They parted and Frigga wiped her face.

Loki slid his hand into hers. "I will."

"Come along, Modi," she said, her voice exuding a calm that Loki envied. She scooped up her grandson as if he weighed nothing at all, propping him on her hip like she had Thor and Loki when they were young. With a final squeeze of Loki's hand, she carried Modi through the Bifrost entrance, following in the wake of the last evacuees. Modi waved goodbye over her shoulder, his face slowly turning pink. Once Frigga was clear of the threshold Loki nodded to Heimdall, who activated the Bifrost.

Energy hummed beneath Loki's feet; the superconducting crystal fed power to the gateway as it began to spin. A moment later the aperture lowered and a beam of concentrated energy fired off into the void. He watched it flicker and pulse in spectrum and then fade. Tears fell freely down his face, his breath ragged. He stood, rigid and shaking, until the dome stilled and Heimdall remerged.

"You grieve, my Queen?"

Loki broke from his daze, taking a deep breath and wiping away the wetness only to have more tears fall. He turned away from the vast expanse of stars and back to where Asgard's shores were burning. As he spoke, his voice broke.

"I'm never going to see my children again." The words were a gut punch, and the air left his lungs utterly on the last syllable. His legs turned numb and weak beneath him and he sunk to his knees.

Heimdall's hand was a familiar, warm weight on his shoulder. "They are safe."

Loki stared through the Bifrost dome to the view of the stars beyond, blurred by tears. "I thought I'd see them grow up."

"A lament shared by many today. Be content that they will have the chance."

Loki steadied his breath, digging his fingertips into his thighs like talons. He called Iss Hjarta to his hand and used it to push himself to his feet. He wanted desperately to curl up and cry. But his rage demanded a target, demanded blood. If he was to die, he would not die weeping. He would make death proud to take him.

Beneath his feet, the crystal of the bridge was trembling. No longer the rhythmic thumps of the laser cannons, but the discordant rumble of a stampede: someone was coming. Loki glanced at Heimdall.

"Jotuns," was the Gatekeeper's only reply.

They both raised their weapons as the thunderous footfalls drew closer. With a wave of his hand, Loki cast a couple of dozen duplicates of himself, giving them enough solidity to do damage. He didn't know how long just the two of them could hold out against a determined assault, but the bridge would force the jotnar into a bottleneck; they'd have to charge in pairs, three at most. It wasn't much of an advantage, but it was something.

"How long will your illusions last?"

"Not long enough."

As the jotnar came into view Loki steeled himself, sizing up the enemy; searching out wounds, weaknesses. The lead jotnar hesitated at the sight of the doubles; a fatal mistake. Loki and Heimdall burst through the first few pairs of giants, hewing off limbs and heads. Loki's doubles got in a few kills each before dissipating under jotun fists.

Loki remained on the move, careful to mind everything he'd ever learned about combat: The strikes and parries that Odin had taught him as a boy. The footwork he'd learned watching the court dancers. The way Strange used portals like weapons. His mother's technique and discipline. The Chitauri's dirty tricks.

He whirled through the jotun ranks, slicing and stabbing and blasting only to dance out of their reach when they struck back. He wielded Iss Hjarta as if she were an extension of his body, one end of the sceptre clubbing jotnar while the other end cleaved through flesh and bone and sinew, firing bolts of plasma at those out of his reach. Bolts of magic flung from his fingertips seared holes in jotun chests. Illusions cast at the edge of an opponent's vision distracted long enough for Loki to slit throats and skewer livers. At his side, Heimdall stood steady as a mountain and let the Jotun ranks break around him like surf. Hofund passed through jotun flesh as easily as if through powder snow.

They were twin blurs of gold amongst the blue; seemingly tireless. But Loki could feel himself flagging. His swings grew weaker, his footwork sloppy. One lucky jotun's strike connected, knocking the wind out of him. His golden helm bounced away across the crystal as two hastily cast doubles took the jotun down. Fresh adrenaline coursed through Loki's blood. He rolled out of the way of another strike and snared his helmet, swinging the horns up into the face of the nearest jotun—who fell, blood spraying from twin gouges in his neck. With a roar his husband would have been proud of Loki leapt back into the fray.

There was blood on his face, his hands, soaking into his clothes and dripping off his armour but so far as he could tell none of it was his. His lungs burned, fresh-formed bruises throbbed on his arms, his legs, his back. They were a few paces closer to the Bifrost than they'd been at the start. For the first time since facing Thanos, Loki's own mortality struck him. He eyed each ice blade, each jagged axe, and wondered whether it would be the one that he died upon.

Despite the pain, despite his weariness, he pressed on. He vaulted over corpses, firing a bolt into the face of a dismembered opponent who nevertheless made a move to attack. Ducking under a blade aimed at his head, Loki whirled and slashed at the jotun's abdomen, spilling his guts. Using the falling giant like a stepladder, Loki launched himself skyward and brought Iss Hjarta down on the skull of another. He pulled the blade free, raised it to strike again... And met no opposition. Bloodstained crystal and open air stretched out before him.

Loki turned back, surveying the carnage that now littered the bridge. Most of the bodies had fallen into the ocean below, but not all. Blood pooled around them, oozing over the crystal and pouring down toward the frothy waves. The Bifrost was safe, at least for the moment.

"At least make it a challenge for me!" he shouted into the distance, dizzy with adrenaline. He waited for Heimdall's inevitable warning about overconfidence, but his taunt was met by silence and the lashing of waves.

Cold fear gripped his gut.

"Heimdall?"

vvvvv

---

"Tony, what the hell is going on!?"

Pepper dodged through the crowd of people in Avengers Tower's lounge, realizing with a jolt that they were all Asgardian. Men, women, children; she could see horses out on the landing pad. Most were tense, haggard and tired, some injured. A good many of them were crying. And they seemed to have brought half of Asgard with them; books, tapestries, devices and trinkets piled up around them. She spotted Tony just outside the big glass doors, his phone plastered to his ear, a grim frown firmly on his face. His arm was wrapped around a familiar, dark-haired young man.

Narfi clutched Tony like his very life depended on it, his head buried in Tony's shoulder. Next to the pair was Narfi's older brother, Magni, who looked on the verge of either murder or tears. And not far away, gazing up at the sky, was Frigga, one arm around Thrud and Vali, the other holding Modi. There was no sign of either Thor or Loki.

Tony hung up his phone as Pepper emerged onto the landing pad, now adorned with a still-smouldering aesir knot.

"What's happened?"

Tony's face was white when he looked up to meet her gaze. His eyes had the wild but focused look that they got during his PTSD episodes. Both his arms were now around Narfi, who was crying hard enough that his body shook. Tony rocked Narfi gently, his eyes darting around the room before he refocused.

"They're evacuating. They've been attacked..."

"Ragnarok." The single word was spoken so softly that Pepper almost missed it. She and Tony turned to Frigga, who was pale as a ghost behind the gold-tinged silver of her spiral-horned helm.

"Ragnarok? What's Ragnarok?" Pepper looked from Frigga to Tony, but it was Friday that spoke first.

"Ragnarok: the twilight of the gods. According to Norse myth, Ragnarok was the end of the world, when the gods would fight a final war with their many enemies and monsters and ultimately lose." Friday paused. "If the myths are correct, boss, we won't be safe here for long."

Frigga shook her head. "Midgard is safe. Heimdall has guaranteed that much."

"Did she say 'ultimately lose'?" Pepper looked between Tony and Frigga. A deep and profound grief washed over Frigga's face as she nodded.

"No!" Magni snapped, sounding more like his father than he ever had. "If I go back with reinforcements from Midgard I can drive the Jotuns back. They won't be expecting help to come—!"

"Magni, stop this." Frigga said, her voice quiet but firm. "Your mother told you to leave—"

"And if mother and father die because I was not there?!"

Narfi pulled away from Tony, wiping at his eyes. "They need us, grandmother."

"You are children, and the heirs to the throne. Would you have their sacrifice be for nothing?" Tears ran down her face, but the commanding tone did not fade or falter. She held Magni's stare until the boy looked away.

"Boss, Rogers, Barnes, and Banner are here."

"Send them up." Tony replied. He grabbed Magni's shoulders. "Look, kid. I know you want to go back, but your mom sent you here for a reason. Let us handle this. Okay?"

The anger on Magni's face melted into sorrow and his chin began to quiver. He blinked away tears. "Okay."

Tony smiled at him and then stepped back. He shrugged his jacket off and tapped the glowing triangle on his chest twice. Nanites raced across his skin, forming panels and circuits, servos and repulsors and weapons. The thruster panels were adjusting themselves, the face plate just closing over Tony's eyes, when Pepper heard Steve's voice.

"Sorry Tony, we got here as fast as we could."

"Don't worry," Tony's voice crackled from the suit's external speakers. "You're right on time. Any second now..." A rumble from somewhere out of view rose to a roar as a shadow passed overhead.

vvvvv

---

Loki staggered over a pile of jotun corpses, slipping in gore as he rushed to where a golden shape lay prone. He knelt next to Heimdall, reaching into the pocket on his tunic to retrieve his last healing stone. He dropped Iss Hjarta and gently eased Heimdall onto his back. Dark red blood rushed out over the crystal and pooled around Loki's knees. The coppery smell clogged his nose; he could almost taste it. Through a savage rend in Heimdall's armour, Loki could see torn flesh and bone, split asunder from shoulder to hip. He held the healing stone over the wound but Heimdall caught his wrist before he could begin to crush it.

"Save that for the King."

Loki stilled and met Heimdall's golden eyes.

"You're dying."

"That I am." His gaze grew distant, faded. "But that is your last stone. You will need it when Thor arrives."

Loki gulped around the lump in his throat and slipped the stone back into his inner pocket. The hand he placed on Heimdall's shoulder trembled. "You fought well."

"As did you." Heimdall's breathing was laboured but no pain showed on his face. An unflappable guardian, as always. "There were times I believed you beyond redemption... I'm glad I was wrong." He reached out a hand and curled it around Loki's. "You are a great Queen, a fine friend, and an even finer mother."

A moment later he went still.

Loki let out a shaking breath. He'd seen many men and women die that day, but he'd known Heimdall his whole life. He'd seen him wounded; he'd been the cause of those wounds. He'd never imagined he would see him bested. That he would see him dead.

Loki retrieved Heimdall's sword and placed it on his chest, arranging his hands around its hilt. With a delicate sweep of his fingers, Loki closed his fading golden eyes. One could almost have believed he were merely sleeping, but Loki knew better. Heimdall didn't sleep. Loki rested his right hand over Heimdall's and spoke the prayer for the dead into the wind. His voice remained steady, but a weight settled into his chest with each line.

It was quiet. The crashing of the waves and the roar of the falls very nearly lulled him into a false sense of peace. And it might have been peaceful had it not been for the smell of smoke and blood drifting on the breeze.

He rose to his feet, straightened his armour, and checked for damage. Iss Hjarta returned to his hand at his call, its icy weight a comfort at his side. From where he stood on the Bifrost he could see the towering cliffs and fjords of Asgard, sparkling with spreading flames. Smoke and steam rose to blot out the stars and nebulas that shone even in the midday sky. The jotun ship, Naglfar, hovered over the city, raining plasma down on the streets. Loki wondered how many more of his people were dying. Three hundred were safe, but the city had housed several million. How many more could be evacuated before they could no longer hold the bridge?

A familiar sound heralded the arrival of the one Loki had been most worried for. Despite his grief he smiled, kicking a few jotun bodies off the bridge to make way for his King. A blurry, distant shape resolved in his vision as it drew closer—Thor. A dozen skiffs flew in formation behind him, splitting to pull up on either side of the bridge. Loki could see the huddled evacuees within them. And he could see that Thor was carrying yet more.

Mjolnir ceased her pull; Thor and his trailing crowd touched down, most looking windblown and shaken. Many were women and children, scholars, craftsmen, teachers. There were a few wounded Einherjar. The evacuees numbered at least two hundred, maybe two hundred and fifty.

"Into the Bifrost!" Loki shouted. He turned to Thor in time to see him fall to his knees, grimacing and clutching his stomach. Blood dripped between his fingers and splattered the ground. Heavy, crushing cold spread through Loki's chest. He dropped his sceptre and bolted to Thor's side. "You're hurt."

Thor grit his teeth. "Bergelmir got lucky." He chuckled and a thin rivulet of blood oozed from his mouth. "Less so when I crushed his skull."

Loki let out a soft laugh despite himself, running a soothing hand over Thor's trembling shoulders. Thor smiled up at him before doubling over and coughing violently. Blood splattered the crystal surface of the bridge, dark and frothy. More of the fluid gushed from his wound. The electric rush of panic jumped up Loki's throat but he ignored it. He pushed gently at Thor's chest, guiding him down to lie on the Bifrost. Thor didn't resist. Loki ran one hand over Thor's cheek as he retrieved his healing stone and Thor leaned into the touch.

The stone crumbled easily in Loki's hand, falling on Thor's wound as a sparkling powder. The separated nanites activated and spread, shining in a wave of different colours as they wove closed Thor's torn flesh and severed arteries. They carried shards of bone back into place, cracks and fractures sealing as if they'd never been. Within moments the wound was sealing up, damaged skin spun back together like a tapestry. There wouldn't even be a scar.

Thor's breathing eased, a sigh escaping him as the discomfort left his face. The nanites moved on to his armour, repairing the leather and metal, and Loki finally let himself breathe. The now-empty skiffs were taking off, heading back toward the city, and their engine noise covered up his sigh of relief.

Thor brought a hand up to Loki's cheek. "Do not fear for me, Loki."

Loki leaned down to kiss Thor and tried desperately to ignore the taste of blood. A hand wound in Loki's hair, cupping the back of his head; Loki clutched at Thor's armour like he was adrift on the breakers below and it was the last stone before the falls. Thor sat up without breaking the kiss, running his other hand down Loki's bruised back, only pulling away when Loki's breath hitched in discomfort.

"You've been wounded."

"Superficial." Loki brushed it off. "Nothing more than a bruise."

They both stumbled to their feet, sweaty and tired and sore but nevertheless intact. For a moment nothing else mattered.

Then Thor looked toward the Bifrost and frowned. "Why haven't they left yet?"

Loki swallowed, lowering his eyes. "Heimdall fell defending the bridge." His own grim monotone surprised him.

Thor's face fell and he looked past Loki to where their old friend's body lay.

"I'm sorry. He told me to save the healing stone for you."

Thor bowed his head, sombre. "He's not the first to fall today." He made his way toward the golden dome. "And he won't be the last."

Loki followed close behind him, feeling his gut clench. "Who have we lost?"

Thor was quiet as he trudged past the bodies and through the archway. With a flick of his wrist Gungnir materialized in his hand and the crowd parted before him, bowing as he stepped onto the central dais. Without fanfare or hesitation, he activated the Bifrost. Behind him, Loki watched the assembled evacuees as they were caught by the Bifrost like fish on a hook and dragged into the volatile-looking wormhole. It wasn't until they were gone and the Bifrost was winding down that Thor replied.

"Freyr fell to Surtur during the first wave. Hermod and Baldur were lost in an assault on Naglfar, and Tyr was devoured by Garm." The words rolled from him as if he were listing off orders, but Loki could hear the pain in his voice.

"What of father?" Loki asked, tentative. Thor flinched and Loki's chest tightened.

"Dead."

That single word was a slap to the face. Loki blinked and once again felt tears on his cheeks. Thor turned, tears in the corners of his eyes as well. "He took on Fenrir... The wolf is dead now, but..." He paused, clenching his jaw. "He died fighting."

Loki clenched his fists at his sides. He'd long ago come to accept that the man who'd raised him was not actually his father, but the fact that he was adopted, that he was now only related to Odin by marriage, did not stop the anger, grief, and regret from bursting in his chest like a spillway. He and Odin had reconciled long ago, but there were things that he had never said to him, things that he should have said, that he wished he'd said... And now he couldn't even say goodbye.

Thor slumped, like he wanted to collapse in on himself, but he remained on his feet. His voice deepened and grew rough. "Apparently we have a sister."

"A what?"

"She was freed when father died." Thor's arms went out in a frustrated shrug. "She's... formidable."

Loki fell silent for a moment, uncertain of what to say. It was the sort of revelation that should have warranted a conversation, but there was no time. There wasn't even really time to process the information, only to absorb it and move on. "What now?"

Gungnir vanished and Thor hefted Mjolnir in his hand. "Sif and the Warriors Three are holding the line three miles from Valaskjalf. We're still evacuating as many as can be reached." He looked tired, more so than Loki had ever seen.

"Shall I guard the bridge?"

Thor glanced to where Heimdall's body lay. "Not alone."

Loki followed as Thor made his way outside. Through the mirage of calm that Thor put up like a shield, like an illusion, Loki could see his tension. It was writ in every muscle, every tendon. There was rage in his clenched jaw and the electric blue flare at the back of his eyes. Loki wasn't surprised when Thor savagely kicked the bodies of the dead jotnar off the bridge and into the churning sea below.

"Enchant Hofund," Thor barked. Loki would ordinarily have objected to the harsh tone, but, given the circumstances, he knew it was simple frustration. There was no venom in Thor's voice, not for Loki at least. "Make certain only the worthy can lift it."

Loki knelt at Heimdall's side. Green auroras crackled around his hands as he traced runes over the blade of Heimdall's sword. It was, oddly, a simple enchantment. But one not easily undone. He spoke a final incantation and the runes he'd traced glowed actinic green and vanished.

When he rose to his feet, he found Thor already swinging Mjolnir and holding his arm out. In the distance, one of the laser cannon towers took a hit and collapsed, shaking the bridge. Two skiffs exploded under the guns of a svartalfar fighter. Another, trailing smoke, flew full-speed into the side of Naglfar, tearing a hole in the vessel's hull.

"Are you sure you don't want me minding the door?" Loki asked.

"I want you at my side." Thor's words were soft and quiet and brittle.

Loki joined Thor, winding his fingers in the thick crimson fabric of Thor's cape and holding on. Thor's arm closed around his waist and then they were flying.

vvvvv

---

The Quinjet settled on the landing pad in a cloud of dust. The engine cut out, the turbines spun down; a moment later the back hatch opened and Natasha, Clint, Vision, Scott, Wanda, Pietro, and Daisy emerged. The Asgardian horses were remarkably calm amidst the noise and rush, paying more attention to the refugees who were shepherding them toward the heavy-duty service elevator that would take them to ground level. Pepper had no idea how they were going to get them from the middle of Manhattan to the Avengers facility on Long Island, but that was a problem for later.

"We're ready when you are," Natasha said as she adjusted her new Widow's Bite bracers. She had more weapons strapped to her than she'd had for the battle of Wakanda. Clearly she thought that this particular engagement required a more varied arsenal. Clint, too, had more than his usual array of weapons. Even Scott had a pistol strapped to his thigh. Daisy had two, one on either hip, and what looked like a knife sheathed at the small of her back. Neither Wanda nor Pietro carried guns, but they were in the new suits Tony and Shuri had collaborated on—with more body-armour and built-in communications.

"He won't allow you into Asgard," Frigga said again, putting her hand on Steve's forearm. "He won't let you spend your lives for a lost cause."

"If we were the ones in trouble, Thor would come to our aid without a second thought. If he thinks we're gonna do anything less..." Steve tugged the straps of his bracers snug and checked the chin-strap on his helmet. "He's kidding himself."

"Yeah. Pass up the chance to do something reckless and stupid? Perish the thought." Bucky checked the safety on his rifle and tapped metal fingers over the hilts of at least five knives. He had six other guns strapped to him, too. He looked like a walking armoury.

"Should I suit up?" Pepper asked, hooking her hand into Tony's elbow.

Tony turned, failing to hide the anxiety in his eyes when his faceplate peeled back. "If things are as bad as Frigga says... I'd rather you didn't. Rob'll be home soon. Someone needs to show these guys around." He gestured at the crowd of refugees.

"You don't want me following you into a death-trap."

"Absolutely." Tony leaned forward and kissed her. "Hold down the fort, okay?"

Pepper took a deep breath to force down the knot of adrenaline and worry making its way up her chest. "Okay. Just come back in one piece. Last time you went into space you came back with a lacerated kidney and ruptured intestines."

"No Thanos this time. I promise." Tony's faceplate closed over his face. "Hey, Friday, any word from Danvers?"

"Nothing, boss. I'll keep trying. T'Challa is on his way."

"Tell him to follow us up when he gets here. And call Xavier."

The sound of repulsors roared around the side of the tower. Triple blurs looped up and came in for a landing—Sam in his heavy armour Falcon suit, Rhodey with his configured for maximum weaponry, and Hope, in a souped-up Wasp suit that Pepper hadn't seen before.

A low rumble of thunder sounded overhead and the horse handlers herded their charges as far from the burnt-in knot on the tarmac as they could. A rainbow aurora streamed down from the clouds, hitting the landing pad with a concussive boom. With a scream like a jet engine the aurora deposited a fresh crowd of Aesir inside the blackened circle. Fewer this time and no horses. Some of the new arrivals were injured.

The portal retreated and the Aesir refugees moved clear of the charred mark. Tony motioned his teammates forward and grabbed Pepper's hands. "Back in a flash."

"You better be," Pepper replied.

Tony saluted her as he backed onto the mark. The rest of the Avengers trotted forward, standing in a loose huddle at the center of the landing pad, readying their weapons. Between Pepper and the huddle, a hissing circle of sparks whirled into existence. Through it, Pepper could see the foyer of the Sanctum Sanctorum. Doctor Strange stepped through the other side and the circle spiralled closed.

"Fashionably late?"

"For you, Stark? Always."

"You heard from Parker?"

"No, I—"

"I'm late! I'm sorry!" Peter Parker swung up onto the landing pad with considerable speed, landing in a scramble and nearly losing his footing. "I'm sorry. I didn't see the alert. I was in the shower. I'm sorry—"

"Don't worry about it, kid. All right. Heimdall, beam us up."

There was a long moment of uncomfortable silence. Tony and Vision hardly moved; Steve, Bucky, and Rhodey fidgeted nervously. Bruce glanced from the sky to his friends and back. Natasha looked at Clint, who shrugged. Scott and Hope checked each other's suits, both casting glances around at the others.

"Come on, big guy. Any time now."

An Aesir child—a girl, no older than ten by Pepper's guess—stepped forward. "Heimdall can't hear you," she said. "He's dead."

It seemed to take a minute for Tony to digest the information. Pepper could imagine his mouth working silently behind the faceplate. A breath left her. She saw Steve wince and saw Wanda's eyes close. Bruce hung his head.

"Okay. Uh..." Tony hesitated. "Thor? Buddy. Open her up. We're ready to go."

The sky did not change; the Bifrost remained silent. Tony shifted on his feet, restless. The rest of the Avengers vacillated somewhere between tense and resigned. Pepper felt useless just standing there but she knew there really wasn't much she could do. The silence grew long and uncomfortable. Near the doors, an Asgardian broke free from the crowd, bowing briefly to Frigga and trading words with her before stepping forward. Frigga, still holding Modi on her hip, looked stricken but solemn.

The young Asgardian bowed his head to Tony and the team, then cleared his throat. "I am sorry, Tony Stark, but I was told by the King to inform you that he will not open the Bifrost to you. He says he does not wish you to be involved... For your own safety."

The frustrated hiss that came out of Tony almost sounded like Loki. Bruce stepped forward, started arguing with the young man, directing half of his words upwards to where the Bifrost had opened. Steve slung his shield onto his back, hands shaking. Clint and Natasha closed their eyes in quiet resignation. Under his breath, Tony said: "Friday. Get on the subspace transmitter. See if you can get through to Quill. Ask him how quick he can swing by for a pickup."

"On it, boss."

Daisy turned to Strange, her voice low. "Use the Sling Ring."

"I can't. Not over this kind of distance. I'd have to use the echo of the Bifrost portal. It'd be..." Strange looked between Daisy and the circular cloud overhead. He frowned. "What kind of range have you got on those seismic waves?"

"Couple of klicks, give or take. Depends on what I'm sending them through." Daisy rolled her wrists. "What are you thinking?"

Strange grinned. "Think you could shake the Bifrost enough to get that sword to slip down?"

"We let ourselves in?" Daisy tongued the corner of her mouth, thoughtful. "I can do that."

Strange caught Pepper observing them and winked before holding his Sling Ring aloft and circling his right hand. Pepper looked up to the circular clouds and to the sparking portal that opened halfway between the lingering auroras and the tarmac. Through the portal was the Bifrost dome. The view in the entrance arch showed clouds of smoke and burning forests. A gash in one mountainside oozed magma. Gold and blue plasma bolts criss-crossed between ground and sky. Large, blue-skinned bodies littered the bridge but there was no sign of anyone living within the dome.

"Shit," Daisy said. There was no sword in the control receiver.

Pepper squinted up at the view through the portal. Near the base of the archway she spotted a body—golden armour, arms crossed over his chest. "There. In Heimdall's hands."

"I can't move that from here," Daisy said.

On Strange's other side, Hope glanced up. "I've got it." She closed her faceplate and launched into the sky.

Just as she reached the portal, green fire flared at the edges, destabilizing the magic holding it open. The spin wobbled, warped and then the portal collapsed. Hope sailed through empty air and scattering orange sparks. Strange looked down at his hands and then up past Pepper to the edge of the crowd. Pepper turned, following his eye line.

Frigga stalked forward, the same green fire blazing around her hands. Strange took a step back as she reached him, going rigid when she seized his wrist. She tugged the Sling Ring from his fingers and placed it in his palm. "Enough," she said. "Enough. If you join this battle, you will die. Thor wanted you all safe. Safe you will remain." Wanda opened her mouth to argue but Frigga held up her hand. "You cannot fix everything. Even with all your power."

"Please let us try." Peter pulled the cowl off his head. "We took on Thanos. We can do this. Please."

"No." The word was almost a whisper and even Bruce fell silent. "So many have died today. I will not allow you to add to that number."

"At least let me go," Bruce said. "I can even the odds, distract the big stuff."

"Midgard needs you. All of you." Frigga grabbed Bruce's hand in one of hers, and Peter's in the other. "I wish it were as simple as sending you up to help. I wish there was some way to win this day. But the battle was lost hours ago. All that remains is to see how many can be saved before the end."

Wanda dropped to her knees. Vision knelt before her, brushing locks of hair off her face. Rhodey powered down the weapons on his suit and popped the faceplate open, his eyes fixed on the tarmac. Pietro, Sam, Scott, Peter, and Bucky just sat down, defeated.

Tony called to the sky again anyway. Again and again and again, arguing, cajoling, begging, but to no avail. The bridge was closed. Pepper had never known Thor to change his mind.

vvvvv

---

Two skiffs went down as they returned from another Bifrost run. White hot shards of hull plating rained down on the front lines as Thor and Loki came in for a landing. The line had fallen back while they'd been away; it still was falling back. A column of fire demons threw themselves on the spears of the Asgardian defenders, their sheer numbers making it difficult to hold them off. Step by step, shuffle by shuffle, the line retreated toward the steps of Valaskjalf. Loki's hands flared with seið-light as he warped the falling wreck of a skiff into the shape of a dragon and set it loose. He threw another wreck into the heart of the enemy lines, whipping the torn debris into a whirlwind that shredded fire demon flesh. At the head of the line, Bragi began to shift his shape and was halfway from as to eagle when a burst of flame engulfed him. The line broke and demons surged forward. When the flames dissipated there was nothing left of Bragi or the Einherjar that had stood with him.

Behind the demons, jotnar rushed forward, ice blades swinging. Two Einherjar lost their heads. A blast of jagged ice burst up from the ground and skewered Skadi. The Warriors Three charged forward, but the momentum was in the jotnar's favour. Loki saw Volstagg and Fandral stagger, saw Hogun fall, and cast a forcefield between the giants and his friends. Ice blades bounced off the glistening green barrier. Hogun and Fandral regained their feet. Volstagg remained on the ground.

Thor bolted forward. "Volstagg!"

Loki reinforced the line with doubles and followed Thor. Dread bubbled beneath the cold numbness that clogged his chest and throat. He took the steps two at a time, Sif scrambling free of the defensive line to join him. Shattered masonry crashed across the top of the forcefield. The Einherjar nearest the explosion vanished beneath falling stones blocks—Hod among them. With a jolt, Loki realized the blocks were from Odin's balcony.

The ground around Volstagg was slick with blood. His face had gone white, his breathing fast and shallow. Thor and Fandral both held hands to his abdomen, blood running out between their fingers. Loki knelt at Thor's side and clasped Volstagg's hand. He called up his magic, started weaving a healing spell over the wound, but Volstagg squeezed his hand.

"Save your energy, Loki. I'm beyond your strength to heal."

"No..."

Volstagg laughed and the sound trailed out into a shaking groan. "Loki. My Queen. You have already saved my children and my wife. Perhaps if I'd been less of a glutton you would be able to save me too, but... Alas."

"Volstagg... You have always been a friend to me." Loki's voice cracked. "I have to try."

"The only things holding my guts in are my best friends' hands." Volstagg blinked, heavy-lidded like a man about to pass out from drink. "I go to Valhalla." He brought his fist up to his own chest in a jerky salute. "My King... My Queen."A few laboured breaths later, he went still.

Thor's head fell and, beyond the forcefield, lightning erupted from the sky. Blinding light and deafening sound blasted craters into the jotun lines. Hogun and Sif stood in grim silence. Fandral let out a sort of growled whimper and slumped back. Loki closed his eyes and turned away. He didn't want to see Volstagg's slack and empty face.

Twenty feet to Loki's left, blue-white light swallowed the Einherjar spearmen, flung stone and metal and charred meat into the sky, and shook the ground. A stray sword sailed over Loki's head and buried itself in the wall. The light faded and left a glassy crater. Another explosion, closer to Valaskjalf's gates, vaporized the Einherjar assembling artillery on the upper steps. He spotted Freya a split second before the burst claimed her.

Loki looked up. Above them and slightly to the south was Naglfar. The roar of her engines wasn't audible over the roar of thunder and the clash of weapons, but the rhythmic thumping of the repulsors throbbed in his chest. Her ventral cannons spat blue fire again; a blast struck Loki's forcefield and flattened the soldiers outside it. The forcefield shimmered, flickered, and burned away.

Screams pierced through the wool in Loki's ears and he looked back toward the refugees huddled beneath what remained of an archway. Every one of them was caked in dust or blood or ash. None of them carried belongings, only children. One asynja clutched a small grey puppy to her chest. Behind him, he heard Mjolnir sing as it struck metal. A heavy jotun body dropped to the earth beside him. Loki spun to his feet, spearing another giant with Iss Hjarta and tossing unfocused, wild magic into the horde beyond.

"We have to get these people out!" Loki shouted. "The longer we wait, the more we risk losing our route to the Bifrost!"

Thor didn't take his eyes off the oncoming jotnar and fire demons. "Fall back! Make for the defensive lines at the south hall! Loki, clear the way to the bridge. Sif, Hogu—"

A jotun spear soared at Loki's chest and he twisted out of the way. He heard the whistle of its passing and felt its wake tug at his hair. And behind him he heard a wet thump and a grunted exhale. Thor turned and his face twisted in grief.

Loki glanced back between parries. Hogun lay on the stone, the spear through his chest. He didn't move, wasn't breathing; he was already dead. Another with no farewell. Sif's enraged howl sounded over the battlefield. Her sword cleaved a jotun's head from his shoulders.

Thor revised his order. "Sif, Fandral, guard our retreat!"

Loki disengaged the fire demons before him and signalled a group of young soldiers who formed up on either side of him. "This way!" He called to the crowd of cowering evacuees. "Stay behind the guards and keep your heads down!"

The people rose and followed. The guardsmen took up flanking positions around the column of evacuees. Loki led them away from the front lines, down through the narrow alleys beneath the gilded bulk of Valaskjalf. The streets were quiet and deserted. Only dust and smoke and the distant cries of the dying met them as they passed. When the sounds of giants' feet grew too near, Loki turned the column into darker, narrower passages. Loki's memories of childhood days spent darting through the very same alleys, looking for Thor or being hunted by him in turn were a map in his mind and halfway down an abandoned market street, he led the evacuees up a twisting stair and onto the Rainbow Bridge.

Loki nodded to one of the Einherjar, who gave a brief blare on a horn—the signal to Thor of their safe arrival. There was no response, but the sound of combat drew close once more. Einherjar backed up the stairwell; more approached from further along the bridge, retreating in disciplined formation. Their cover fire mowed down jotnar and fire demons as if they were nothing more than rye at harvest. In their midst, Brunnhilde half-carried a wounded Valkyrie recruit—a girl who couldn't have been more than seventeen. Blood ran down the girl's face and her head lolled.

Lightning unlike anything Loki had ever seen howled down into the streets below. Thor emerged from the stairwell, his eyes glowing electric blue. He flung Mjolnir at the giants pursuing Brunnhilde and a fork of lightning struck the bridge between them, shattering the crystal and opening a gap that several charging jotnar fell into. Sif and Fandral dove out of the stairwell last, and fire demons poured out after them.

"Go!" Thor roared. "Head for the gate! Do not wait for me!"

Loki nodded, and turned to the evacuees, urging them onward to the long expanse of the bridge. His Einherjar formed a rearguard to the crowd, who took off running. Two of the Einherjar relieved Brunnhilde of the concussed girl and followed the fleeing crowd. Behind Loki, a scream and the sound of tearing flesh and cracking bone split the air. He whirled around in time to see Sif dragged amongst the beasts.

"Go!" he shouted to the rearguard. The Einherjar hesitated, but bowed their heads and sprinted after the evacuees. Loki charged back to Thor's side as he, Fandral, and Brunnhilde fell upon the jotun line.

Loki pointed Iss Hjarta at the fire demons near the front of the pack and fired. The sceptre's heart glowed a fierce blue and the full force of what had once been the Casket of Ancient Winters hurled them from their feet and froze them to the bridge. The jotnar, unaffected, leapt at him, but lightning bolts struck them down. The Einherjar spearmen, shields locked into a wall, forced the giants back. Amongst a pile of gutted jotnar, Sif lay shivering.

Fandral broke off from the fighting to pull her clear and Loki and Thor followed. Sif was torn open as if she'd been mauled by a pack of wolves, soaked from head to foot in blood, some hers, some jotun. Her hand scrabbled for purchase in Fandral's cape, shaking. All the colour was gone from her flesh. Each breath sounded like a death rattle, frothy blood bubbling up from her chest and out of her mouth with each gasp. Fandral shifted her and she howled in pain, a purely animal sound.

Loki cast a dozen doubles to reinforce the thinning Asgardian lines and knelt at Sif's side. Fandral looked stricken as he took her hand in his. Her eyes fixed first on Thor.

"I am sorry, my King." She grit her teeth against the pain and gasped for breath. "I slew as many as I could."

"You fought well." Thor squeezed her shoulder. Loki had lost count of how many times he'd heard that said to dying warriors that day.

"A warrior's death." Her eyes turned glassy for a moment, but refocused, drifting to Loki. Her face clouded with regret. "I owe you an apology."

"Nonsense." Loki wove a spell over her deepest wounds, one that would numb the pain. "You and I were reconciled years ago."

Sif shuddered. "There are things I should have said... Things that I didn't—" She grimaced. "And I would go to my death at peace with my Queen." She reached out, feebly clutching at Loki's hand. Before he could protest, she continued. "I mocked you for your jealousy, while I could not control my own. I resented you because you had what I wanted. You had Thor... You had his heart. And because I wanted, I believed myself entitled." She stopped, breathing carefully and deliberately around the blood running over her teeth. "But you cannot demand someone's heart." She coughed, choking on thick, dark blood. "You were born for the throne," she said. "And the life I really wanted was in front of me all along."

Loki gulped and squeezed Sif's hand. "Be at peace, Lady Sif. All is forgiven."

The tension went out of Sif's body and she fell back against Fandral, her face ashen. Fandral swept aside a few stray strands of blood-soaked hair, his hands unsteady. "My Lady..." he began, his voice gravely. Sif didn't let him finish. She closed her fist around his collar and pulled him down into a clumsy kiss. For once in his life, Fandral was silent. When they parted, he stared at Sif like he'd never seen her before.

She grinned, mustering what little remained of her strength. "You were never going to do it."

"And what makes you so certain?" Fandral had the humour left at least to argue.

"I know you." Sif's breathing slowed. Her lips were grey but there was still something of her old fire spluttering away behind her eyes. "I'll see you in Valhalla."

Fandral chanced a look at the faltering Asgardian lines. "I suspect you won't be waiting for long." Before he could look back, Sif went still.

Loki took a slow, steadying breath and rose to his feet. Thor lingered at Sif's side and ran a hand along Fandral's back in a futile gesture of comfort. Then he, too, rose and gave Fandral a moment to grieve. Loki felt Thor's hand close around his own. He met Thor's eyes. Behind the stoic acceptance, Loki could see horror and grief comingling—the same horror and grief that had been in his eyes when Loki had let himself fall from the Bifrost. He didn't care to imagine what Thor was seeing in his own eyes.

Brunnhilde, blood-soaked and snarling, stepped to Thor's side. "We're about to be overwhelmed. Those evacuees you sent off... they'll be the last. We're not going to get another shot at this."

Thor nodded. "How were things at your end?"

"Shit." She nodded toward the Einherjar lines. "They're all that's left of the north-east line. Hela's holding the line in the north almost single-handed, and she's facing off against Surtur himself. Never thought I'd be happy to see her, but here we are."

"You knew about her?" Thor asked.

"Look..." Brunnhilde said. "I would have told you, but I thought you already knew."

"Father certainly was fond of lying by omission." Loki couldn't bring any venom into the words. Not now.

Thor released a breath. "We need time. Loki? Any more tricks up your sleeve?"

"Always." Loki waved a dismissive hand. Three monstrous, glistening black serpents sprouted out of the crystal of the bridge, spitting acid and sinking two-foot fangs into jotun chests. Pandemonium erupted in the enemy lines and the Einherjar took the opportunity to push back.

"I'll hold them off."

Loki, Thor, and Brunnhilde turned. Fandral set Sif's body down and pressed a kiss to her forehead before rising to his feet. He bowed his head, once to Thor and once to Loki. "My King. My Queen. It has been my honour to fight alongside you." His jaw was set and his smile didn't extend to his eyes.

Tears dancing unshed at the corner of his eyes, Thor pulled Fandral into an embrace. Their armour clanked. "Farewell, my friend." Thor's voice wavered.

Fandral turned to Loki and embraced him as he had Thor.

"You were a fine Queen indeed, Loki," he said. "I cannot imagine anyone else at Thor's side. Nor can I imagine a better friend."

"Did you prepare this in advance?" Loki asked teasingly.

"For months."

They parted, genuinely smiling, and for a moment it was like old times. But the Einherjar were struggling under a renewed assault. The evacuees weren't yet to the Bifrost dome. They were out of time.

Fandral took up his sword and bowed once more, then launched himself toward the fight. "For Asgard!"He vanished into the fray in a flash of silver and teal.

vvvvv

---

Loki, Thor, and Brunnhilde reached the Bifrost as the Einherjar herded the last of the evacuees into the dome. The Valkyrie recruit was sitting between two young women still in their night clothes who kept her from falling when she swayed. An injured soldier—no more than a year into manhood—begged his friend not to send him away from the fighting. A woman in Einherjar armour pushed her grey and frail father into the dome, silent in the face of his protests.

Thor swung Mjolnir restlessly, static dancing over the hammer's surface. He kept watch in the direction of the city, which was now almost entirely obscured by smoke. Brunnhilde watched the sky, but there were no skiffs nearby.

Loki watched the Einherjar exit the dome, then turned to Thor. "They're ready."

Thor turned from his silent vigil and called Gungnir to him once more. He closed his free hand around Loki's bicep and gently pushed him toward the door.

"Go. There won't be another chance."

Loki shook his head. "Not without you."

"I can't leave. You know that." Thor stroked a hand down Loki's cheek, his expression not quite schooled enough to hide his pain. He held his gaze for a moment before kissing him—short and sweet and speaking of all the things they didn't have time to say. "Now go. Tell our friends I'm sorry."

"No!" Loki stumbled as Thor pushed him backwards, and he tried without success to twist free of Thor's hand. He twined his long fingers in the fabric of Thor's cape, pulling himself flush against him even as Thor attempted to shove him through the gateway. "I am not leaving you!"

Thor stilled, his breath leaving him in a long sigh. He leaned face into Loki's hair. "The jotnar will take no prisoners," he whispered. "Not even you."

"I would have it no other way. Better dead than some frost giant's bed slave."

Thor pushed him again, but Loki planted his feet and, this time, neither of them moved. "Please, Loki. Go to our friends. Be safe. Tell our children I love them."

"You know I am no more free to leave than you. An Asgardian—"

"As you were so fond of reminding me, you are not Asgardian."

"No." Loki leaned his forehead on Thor's shoulder. "But I am their Queen. What kind of Queen would I be if I turned from my duty on this day? Of all days?" He loosened his grip on Thor's cape and pressed his palms instead to his sides. "I will not abandon my people."

Over the lashing of the sea below, Loki almost didn't hear Thor's soft voice. "I don't want you to die."

Loki squeezed Thor tighter. He felt his bruises smart at the pressure, and he knew Thor was likely feeling the same thing. He didn't flinch away and neither did Thor. "I once promised you my undying fidelity. I will not break that promise. Not now."

Thor pulled away, tear-trails on his cheeks. Nevertheless, he released Loki's arm. "Brunnhilde," he said, his voice breaking. "With me." He tucked Loki's hair behind an ear and pressed a kiss to his cheek before stepping past him and into the Bifrost. Brunnhilde sheathed her sword and followed. Thor stepped onto the dais and plunged Gungnir into the control port.

Loki stood back as the dome spun up, its aperture aiming off into the void of space where a distant patch of light was visible—the Milky Way. Loki looked into the dome, at the battered and ragged evacuees who would likely be the last. He watched Thor, standing at the center, one hand holding Gungnir steady, looking more like a king in that moment than he ever had. The thrum of the Bifrost changed pitch, rose to scream, and just before the bridge snared its passengers, Thor shoved Brunnhilde from the dais to the floor. She landed hard and turned to shout at him, but the anger on her face morphed to realization and then horror as the Bifrost caught her. Her roar was cut off as a flickering beam of rainbow light fired into the distance and she, along with all the evacuees, vanished.

The light flickered out, the dome slowed, and Loki was struck with a brief stab of regret. He thought of the children, of his promise that he'd be right behind them. The little voice at the back of his mind that was his survivor's instinct, the voice that had kept him alive through captivity, through torture, through battles with beings much stronger than him, told him to cut and run. It was what Thor wanted. It would mean living. It would mean seeing his children grow up. But it would be a betrayal of his title, his office, his king, his father, his people... An Asgardian monarch stands in defence until the people are safe... or until they are slain.

The Bifrost glided to a stop and Thor emerged, making straight for Loki. He wrapped his arms around him in a bone-crunching embrace. Loki buried his face in the join of Thor's neck and shoulder, snaking his arms around Thor's waist.

"She'll never forgive you for that," Loki said.

"I would have done it to you if I could."

"I know."

Thor breathed deep and harsh, fighting emotion. His voice came out quiet, and soft, and mournful. "Is there nothing I can say that would change your mind?"

Loki gave a small, half-hearted laugh. "Have you ever known me to be easily swayed?"

Thor sighed, stroking his hand over Loki's hair as he nuzzled into his neck. The fingers of his other hand traced the lines of muscle in Loki's back through his armour. He kissed along Loki's throat as if he were mapping him. Memorizing him.

Loki brought one hand up to run over Thor's short-cropped hair. He'd kept it that way since their escapade on Sakaar, all because Loki had said that it suited him. He ignored the reek of blood, gore, and sweat and just leaned into Thor's touch. He knew he smelled and felt no better, drenched as he was in jotun blood. But beneath the grime was the scent of pine and honey and warmth; the scent of Thor. It was the scent that was always on the pillow in a morning when Loki woke; the scent that saturated Loki's world when Thor was above him, pressing him into the bed as they made love. Loki could feel Thor breathing him in, could feel his tears where their cheeks were pressed together. He shut his eyes, shut out the sounds of battle, shut out everything but what he could feel: Thor's arms cradling his back, his warm bulk pulled close to Loki's, the bristle of his beard against Loki's jaw, the humming crystal beneath their feet, the salt breeze pulling at their capes and hair.

"I have no regrets. You?"

"A few," Thor said. "Not making you leave."

Loki chuckled softly. "You should have learned long ago. You can't make me do anything."

He felt Thor smile against his neck. For a moment he rocked them side to side, then he took a slow breath and drew back—only far enough to look Loki in the eye. His hand still cupped Loki's head. His voice came out broken and raspy.

"My wife... my beautiful, perfect Queen... my Loki."

Loki brushed the tears from Thor's cheeks. His own eyes began to sting and he swallowed hard to clear the lump in his throat. "I love you, Thor."

Thor's jaw quivered. "I love you too, Loki."

Loki looped both arms around Thor's neck and kissed him with every ounce of emotion he had left. The ache in his chest returned and tears ran freely down his cheeks by the time Thor kissed him back, deep and ferocious and ardent. The world narrowed to the press of Thor's mouth, the warmth of his breath, his hand on the small of Loki's back, holding their bodies together, soft hair and sweat beneath Loki's palm, the thump of his heart behind his breastbone. When they parted to breathe Thor had a handful of Loki's hair and their lips were swollen. Breathing hard, his forehead pressed to Thor's, Loki called Iss Hjarta to his hand.

"Together," he whispered.

"Together," Thor agreed.

Thor called Mjolnir to him, began to spin it in his hand, and Loki felt a strange serenity settle over him. An absence of uncertainty, of decisions to be made, of worry for the future. Mjolnir carried them off their feet, toward the burning shoreline. They swooped low over the embattled streets, coming in to land, and Loki put his lips to Thor's ear.

"I'll see you in Valhalla, my love."

Thor squeezed him close in answer just before they dropped into the chaos below.

vvvvv

---

Every muscle in Loki's body screamed in protest as he darted and weaved, ducked and spun. He was very nearly deaf from the constant howl of thunder and lightning called down a few feet from him. The air around him crackled with electricity, the smell of ozone drowning out that of blood and gore and death. He was slowing. With each strike or parry his opponents recovered faster and he recovered slower. Iss Hjarta's bites grew shallow; fewer of the jotnar went down with a single blow. He no longer had the strength to weave even the simplest spell.

Pain lanced through him. He whirled and slit the throat of the offending fire demon. In one smooth motion he tore the jagged blade from his back and used it to down another. He could feel warmth spreading and running down his back. He staggered and it proved a mistake. His next swing missed and an ice blade slipped between his ribs. Iss Hjarta cleaved the head from the jotun's shoulders and Loki tore himself off of the blade with a cry. Blood gushed down his side and he fell to one knee.

The jotnar rushed forward, eager for the kill. The first dozen lost their legs or guts to Loki's sceptre. Still they came. He roared at them in challenge, blood running over his teeth. A blade found his back, narrowly missing his spine. Another speared his shoulder. Any cry that he would have given died in his throat, drowned by blood. With what remained of his strength, Loki smashed the blades holding him down and lunged, sinking Iss Hjarta into the chest of the nearest jotun.

Another blow came before he could withdraw the sceptre. Something heavy struck his head and knocked him sideways. Iss Hjarta slipped from his grasp, still embedded in the dead jotun's chest. He hit the ground and was dimly aware of his golden helm clattering away from him across the cracked and bloodied pavement. A jotun leaned down over him, reaching for his throat, and Loki withdrew his vibranium knife. He slashed the jotun's throat, the blade slicing through armour like butter and sending gouts of dark blue blood spraying from the wound. He tried to rise but his vision greyed around the edges and didn't clear when he blinked. His limbs felt heavy and gelatinous. There was no pain either, and half of his mind wondered at that until he realized that he couldn't feel much of anything at all.

His increasingly wandering mind focused instead on the dissipating storm clouds overhead. There was no more lightning; no more thunder. The light of stars and nebulas pierced the clearing sky. The jotnar moved off. Loki rolled onto his side, dizzy, his armour tacky and wet against his skin. Across from him, prone on the pavement, was Thor. His cape was gone, his armour dented and torn. His helmet lay in two pieces several feet away and Mjolnir was embedded in the pavement, forgotten. Dark blood pooled around him, running from a savage split in his lip and his gouged-out right eye. But he met Loki's eyes and smiled.

Loki smiled weakly in return and reached a trembling hand toward Thor's, just meeting his fingertips. The blue of Thor's eye was the last thing he saw before the world went black.

vvvvv

---

They waited on the landing pad for hours but there were no more refugees. The Bifrost's rainbow-hued clouds dissipated, replaced by the leaden rainclouds that rolled in from the south-west. Steve, Bucky, and Natasha were the first to head inside, quiet and downcast. Clint, Wanda, and Rhodey followed not too long afterward. Strange was already inside, helping with the worst of the wounded, and Pepper could see Bruce in the window, one floor up, sitting with Brunnhilde. Daisy, Vision, and Pietro left in the Quinjet to pick up the kids. Sam, Peter, Scott, and Hope were the last to turn and walk away from the charred tarmac. Pepper would have gone with them, but Tony didn't show any sign of moving, despite the rain pelting his armour.

"I don't think they're coming, Tony," she said after a moment of them standing alone in the downpour.

Tony didn't move, and Pepper couldn't read anything past the impassive mask of his suit. "They just need more time." He didn't look away from the sky.

"It's been five hours since the last group."

"Battles take time—"

"Tony."

He slumped. As he made his way to the glass doors, the nanites that made his suit retreated, slithering back into the glowing container on Tony's chest. With the suit gone, Pepper could see the dark, puffy circles around Tony's bloodshot eyes and the hollow expression on his face.

"Friday, get Dummy up here with towels and blankets."

"Sure thing, boss."

Tony turned to Pepper and brushed wet hair off her forehead. "You should have gone inside; you're soaked."

"I'm fine."

Tony tried to put on a nonchalant smile but it was empty and frayed at the edges and after only a moment it faltered. Wordless, he pulled Pepper against him and squeezed her close. They stayed there, utterly silent, until the whir of robotic treads broke the quiet. Pepper turned as Dummy looked up at them, laden with what might have been every towel and blanket in the building.

"Good job, Dummy," Tony said, taking one of the towels and wrapping it around Pepper's shoulders. "Let's get the rest of these upstairs."

When they got to the upper floor Tony passed around towels to those who'd been out in the rain while Dummy rolled around, dropping blankets into the laps of everyone else. The only real sound in the room came from the fireplace, which was well-fed and spitting sparks onto the tile floor. The upper levels of the lounge were dark except for the strip lighting on the stairs. Pepper spotted Brunnhilde and Bruce on the upper walkway, lit only by the dim evening light. Firelight glinted off the empty bottles beside them.

Everyone else was gathered around the hearth. Magni sat hunched over, his head in his hands. Steve had his arm around Magni's shoulders. Natasha wrapped Thrud in a blanket and smoothed her hair, and when she sat down, Thrud curled against her and cried. Clint held Vali on his lap as the boy sobbed. Next to him, Narfi sat in stony silence between Rhodey and Bucky, his head leaned on Rhodey's shoulder. Frigga stood by the window, cradling Modi.

Pepper made her way to Frigga's side and tried to find something to say.

"Where's mummy?" she heard Modi ask as she drew closer.

Frigga's composure was strained. "He's back home, fighting alongside your father." She managed a smile over Modi's shoulder, but her eyes remained sombre.

"It looks like you guys are staying for a while," Pepper remarked, trying to put some kind of positive spin on it. "I'll have Friday ready some rooms. Daisy'll be back soon with the kids, so these guys will have some company their own age... We can make some hot chocolate..."

Frigga nodded, smiling faintly. "They'll like that."

Pepper swallowed the lump in her throat. "We've got your people settling in a few floors down. There's plenty of room. And, uh, the horses are on their way to the Long Island compound."

"Have you heard from Doctor Strange?"

"He called a half-hour ago. Your wounded are being tended at Metro-General Hospital. Eir is still with him."

Frigga nodded and then leaned into Modi's hair. She was still mostly in her armour, though her helmet, sword, and most of the metal plates were heaped in a corner downstairs. She looked exhausted, her eyes bloodshot and puffy and still flicking to the sky. The rain was getting heavier, and Frigga drew a sharp breath as lightning forked across the sky. Hope danced through her eyes for the briefest of seconds. But the lightning faded, and no rainbow light streamed down from the sky. Instead, a Quinjet cut through the sheets of rain and came in for a landing.

"That'll be the kids."

Modi sniffled and Frigga pressed a kiss to his temple. "Come on. Let's go see your friends."

Modi's skin oscillated between pink and blue, his eyes flushing red. He looked over his shoulder, out the window, where Pepper could see small figures running from the jet to the doors. His chin quivered. "Mummy and daddy aren't coming, are they?"

Frigga sighed, seeming to shrink as she did so. "No. No, they're not." She smoothed Modi's hair as the boy started to cry. "It'll be all right, my dear. Your mother and father have ensured that much."

"I'm sorry," Pepper said, hating the hopeful twinge in her chest when another bolt of lightning forked down and struck the rod on the Chrysler Building.

"Don't be," Frigga said. "There was nothing any of you could have done. Even Dr. Banner. Our history was bound to catch up with us eventually, and none of you deserved to pay the price for the sins of Asgardian kings."

Shoes slapped on the stairs, and Pepper heard backpacks being dropped against the wall. She turned as Rob crested the staircase, his purple hoodie soaked. Behind him, her dark red hair dripping rainwater on the floor, was Madeline, Steve and Bucky's eldest. Her siblings, Anya and Teddy, followed, both of them mostly dry.

"Mom?" Rob looked around at the subdued room, at Narfi, who was still leaned on Rhodey. He pushed his soggy hood down. "It's true..."

Pepper crossed the distance to him and pulled him into a hug. For once he didn't try to get away. Maddie, Anya, and Teddy headed straight for Bucky, who wrapped all three in a bear-hug. Vision came up the steps behind them, Billy and Tommy on either side of him. Tommy took off at a blurred run to Wanda's side. Jason and Emily entered just ahead of Daisy and Pietro. Jason sat down next to his mother; Natasha dropped an arm over his shoulders. Emily joined her dad, taking one of Vali's hands.

"Go get into some dry clothes," Pepper said, stepping back from Rob and ruffling his hair. "We'll get some games going, or put a movie on, something to keep everyone occupied."

"Okay."

vvvvv

---

Pepper was proud of how easily Rob, Maddie, and Teddy took charge of keeping spirits up. They helped pass hot chocolates around and convinced Magni to have one. Rob put Ponyo on the lounge TV and let it play like background noise. Teddy and Anya dragged every card, board, and dice game they could find into the room. It was a quiet game night, lacking the usual laughter and raised voices, but the kids were occupied.

When Tony gently suggested that it might be time to go to bed, Rob asked to set up all their beds in the upstairs lounge—where they'd have nothing above them but glass roof. Tony, Steve, Bucky, Wanda, and Sam moved mattresses and blankets into the lounge, and Peter used web-shooters to turn bedsheets into giant, sprawling tents. The kids made Maddie their sentry, and she took the mattress nearest the entrance to the ring of tents. They filled the space with flashlights and stuffed animals, books and crayons. Emily brought the fairy lights from her bedroom and slung them up around the tents. The storm outside was still going strong, but the soundproofing on the roof kept out most of the thunder, leaving only the heavy patter of rain.

Modi remained with Frigga, but fell asleep on her lap not long after sunset. Not long after that, Strange returned. He looked drained but triumphant. He looked to Frigga.

"They're all stable. We didn't lose anyone," he said. "A few are in the ICU, but they're pulling through. Eir stayed behind, just in case."

Frigga let out a relieved breath. "Thank you, Stephen."

"It's still my job." He looked to the side and grimaced slightly. "Though I do think Christine's getting sick of me bringing everyone to her."

"You want a drink? Or are you still on call?" Tony brandished a bottle of eighteen-year-old Glen Grant.

"I would love a drink." Strange looked up to the dark walkways overhead. Against the glow of the city beneath, a silhouette was visible, leaned against a support strut and surrounded by empty bottles. "Brunnhilde all right?"

"Yeah. She cut herself off." Bruce set his glasses down on the table. "She wouldn't leave the window and I didn't think she'd take kindly to me moving her while she's sleeping."

Strange took his drink, raised it in silence, and took a swig. Tony handed Pepper a second glass of wine and sat down with his own glass over half-full of dark amber liquid. She hadn't seen him drink like this in a while. But he was hardly the only one. Natasha and Clint, curled together in the corner of one couch, had finished a couple of beers each. So had Sam and Rhodey. Pietro and Wanda both nursed vodkas, and Bucky had a bottle of Stolichnaya held in his metal hand. A bottle of absinthe sat at the center of the table; only Steve and Daisy had bothered having any. It had been Loki's favourite, though they all suspected it had more to do with the colour than the actual flavour.

Strange gestured at the satchel next to it on the table. "What's that?"

"A young man downstairs informed me that Loki gave strict instructions to deliver that to you," Vision said from where he stood looking down on the landing pad.

Strange leaned forward and plucked the satchel from the table, putting down his drink so he could open it. He pulled out five large, leather-bound books with runes in gold leaf on their spines and set them on the table. He reached in again and withdrew a clear crystal orb—the Crystal of Eternal View—and a wooden box that held several glowing white, rough-cut stones. He went to prod them and Frigga held out a staying hand.

"Be careful with those, Doctor. Norn stones are powerful things."

Strange shut the box and gingerly placed it atop the books. He looked into the bag again and his expression faltered. He let out a slow breath, closing his eyes. "He knew he was going to die."

What noise there had been, ceased; all eyes turned to Strange. Steve sat forward. "What do you mean?" His tone was wary.

Strange reached into the satchel and removed a burnished gold vambrace etched with runes and knotwork—at the center, an Asgardian triple horn, held in the maw of a serpent, a magpie perched at the peak. With a gesture of his hand, the center of the triple horn irised open and showered the room in vibrant blue light. Light that emanated from a small, jagged stone. The Space Stone.

"If he sent this here..." Strange trailed off.

"I guess he didn't want the temptation," Bruce said. "The opportunity to run from his duty."

Pepper saw Strange glance between the vambrace and the Eye of Agamotto as if he were contemplating possibilities. But the moment passed and he went back to his drink. Pepper took a long sip from her wine and sunk back into the couch.

The room stayed mostly quiet for the rest of the night. Occasional fits of conversation rose and fizzled. Tony and Vision poured another round, another two rounds, of drinks. Bruce cried. So did Steve. Tony hid his tears, but Pepper saw them. At one AM they headed for bed. Steve tried to start cleaning up, but the rest of them convinced him to leave the mess for the morning. He and Bucky headed, hand-in-hand, to their room, and the rest of them followed in ones and twos. Brunnhilde took a guest room down at the deserted end of the hall. Frigga, with sleeping Modi still in her arms, took Thor and Loki's old room. The storm outside was still rumbling away when Pepper shut off her light and pulled the covers over her. She slept, briefly, but woke to nightmares. She tried to return to sleep but tossed and turned, kept alert by her pounding heart and Tony's fitful shifting.

She finally gave up and slipped from the bed at four-thirty in the morning, padding down the hall and stairs to the communal kitchen, resisting the urge to make a cup of coffee, and pouring a glass of water. She retrieved her laptop from the study and made her way to the lounge. As she passed the doors to the landing pad she nearly jumped out of her skin. Standing out on the charred knotwork, her hair loose and her white nightdress glowing in the city lights, Frigga looked like a ghost.

Pepper set down her laptop and water and slipped through the doorway, making her way across the still-warm tarmac. Pepper could hear the sound of traffic and the occasional car horn far below, but for New York it was quiet. A steady wind blew and she hugged her arms close to his chest and shivered. At least it had stopped raining. Over the noise of the city below, she could hear Frigga speaking softly.

"Lo, there do I see my father. Lo, there do I see my mother. Lo, there do I see my brother. Lo, there do I see the line of my people back to the beginning. Lo, they do call to me. They bid me take my place among them in the halls of Valhalla. Where thine enemies have been vanquished. Where the brave shall live forever. Nor shall we mourn, but rejoice for those that have died the glorious death."

Pepper stilled, chewing her lip as Frigga bowed her head. The wind caught her hair like a pennant. An ambulance passed beneath them, sirens wailing.

"I didn't want to wake Modi," Frigga said by way of a greeting. "Especially not with this."

Pepper stepped to Frigga's side, leaning her forearms on the railing. "How long have you been out here?"

"Hours." She looked drained, older than she had that morning. "I needed to at least try... To know whether they were still there..." She took a deep breath. "But the Bifrost is closed."

"We can still have the Guardians do a flyby... I'm sure the Nova Corps would be willing to evacuate any survivors," Pepper said. "Or we could use the Space Stone—"

"You would only succeed in bringing the battle here." Frigga wiped her cheeks and pushed her hair from her face. "And all today's sacrifices would be for nothing."

Pepper looked down to the streets below, to the golden glow of Grand Central Station's roof, to the head and tail lights reflected on the glass of darkened towers. The scars of Loki's first visit to this city were long gone—every bullet hole, every broken window, every inch of smashed brick and twisted metal. They still occasionally pulled a scrap of Chitauri wreckage from the Hudson, but otherwise, New York didn't look like a city that had been a beachhead for an alien army. Some of those scars had still been there the first time Thor had brought Loki back, and Pepper remembered the way he'd looked at the damage—like it was the first time he was seeing it.

"I don't know what to do..." Frigga continued, her voice barely above a whisper. "I've lost my home, my husband, both my sons." Her voice broke on the last few words. "My people will look to me now, but I am just as lost as they are."

Pepper thought about all the levels below them where hundreds of refugees were trying to sleep. She thought about the children four floors above her who were now orphans. And she thought of the two friends she would never see again. It was impossible to know how the government would react when they discovered that Tony Stark had allowed over eight hundred aliens into the United States without authorization. That was a problem for tomorrow.

"We'll work things out."

Frigga gave her a sceptical look. "Where will we go?"

"I don't know," Pepper admitted. "But you don't have to worry about that. Tony and I can figure it out."

They stood in silence together for a long time, windblown and cold. More sirens, police this time, passed by heading north. Pepper watched the lights, winding a hand around her hair to keep it under control.

"I cannot thank you enough for taking us in," Frigga said, her voice hoarse. "We had nowhere else to go."

"You've always welcomed us. Why wouldn't we do the same?"

Frigga smiled, and for the first time that day, it reached her eyes. She lifted her eyes from the street below and looked at Pepper as if she'd just noticed her. "We should go inside before you catch your death."

"I'm all right."

"You're shivering."

Pepper almost denied it, but when she opened her mouth her teeth started to chatter. "Fair enough." She turned away from the view, toward the doors. The lines of the Bifrost knot felt rough, like volcanic sand on her bare feet as she walked across the landing pad. She almost didn't hear Frigga's soft call up toward the sky.

"Farewell, Thor... Loki." She paused, and when she spoke again her voice was brittle: "Goodbye my love." A moment later she joined Pepper and together they walked back into the tower. Neither of them looked back.