Disclaimer: This story is based on characters of The Marvel Universe and all characters thereof belong to them. No copyright or trademark infringement is intended and no money is being made.

AN: It was supposed to be one-shot, but we all know how those seem to work out. Let me know what you think (good, bad and ugly – but remember to be constructive, not destructive). I do not have a beta reader, so obviously all mistakes are my own.

*edited and revised for increased content and grammar the evening of 10/22. (Part of me thinks this would be better as the second chapter, but I will leave it here for now. If you have an opinion on this let me know)

Thanks to Reina434 for the review. It was great to come home to after a long day of work. :)

In the shadows he watches. Oblivious, in purposeful disregard of all that surrounds her, the female takes in only that which tethers her to this world. The girl . . . or should he call her a woman? It is hard to tell sometimes, her shifting moods as erratic as a feather in the breeze.

In either case, she is the bond that holds a frail and shattered soul together. A soul, he reflects sadly, that he is guilty of carving with the dagger of ignorance and intolerance. If she were to fall, 'or jump' his mind interjects, the nine realms would be lost to the psychosis that would finally overwhelm his brother beyond redemption

At the same time, he worries, for this friend of his love and now sister of his heart. Is she strong enough to withstand the incessant tug-of-war between them all and silent storm raging within Loki? Her soul already battered and cracked; damaged, too irreparable, for a being so young. It should not have to bear the strain of which even the All-Father could not endure.

He hears her voice, lyrics lost to the wing of the wind, but the sorrow filled tone has him stepping forward, to guard her from her own actions if necessary.

There is a subtle shift in the air, a breath of frost. Loki materializes from nothingness. Her song freezes; her body tenses. The arrival shifts his stance; some of the tension in his shoulders bleeds out and he takes a few steps towards the one that tethers him in sanity. Leaning back against the wall, the other resumes his sentry.

The silence aches for a long while. She finally splinters at the seam of her lips, never one to stay quiet for long. Their witty banter, laced with sarcasm and wounds, fills the night. He struggles to follow as their conversation, veiled with insults and palpable in its anguish, weaves through an eccentric path of metaphors. He closes his eyes to their caustic repartee.

A masculine yell and sudden electric discharge startles him. Mjölnir in hand, he flinches in empathy for a pain he is all too familiar with; yet stops himself from intervening. They are not his to save. Besides, she needs it, this semblance of strength. Loki allows it, needing her.

He continues to watches the antagonistic pair, curled together along the ledge. Loki's voice reverberates through his mind, a begrudged thank you for protecting his 'precious, taser toting mortal.' And in this moment of solitude, he leaves them. They are a Celtic knot; for joy or evil, their future is forever entwined. Together they will climb out of the ruins. Together they are safer from the demons that clatter at their minds. Together they will find a way to fly.

He makes a choice.

Thor will not let them fall.

There is no other option.

The fate of his universe is tethered to their own.