"You spoke to Loki," Natasha says. Nicky seems to be having a difficult time concentrating on her words instead of her face.

"Yes."

"Did he say anything?"

She shrugs. "He made me an offer."

"What kind of offer?"

"The kind where he offers what he knows I want."

"Which is...?"

The ambrosia induced light dims a little: "None of your business."

Heedless of the others around, Thor puts a hand on her shoulder and draws her a little closer. She shakes him off, pressing a hand to her eyes.

"Forgive me. What I meant was it doesn't matter. What matters is protecting Earth."

She walks proudly, despite the bloodstained tunic. Her swords look like they weigh nothing in her hands. Gore spatters her face like a mask.

"Allfather," she kneels before the throne. "My…apo- apol-" her Norse is shattered, as if she cannot quite switch her mind. "I have no…to go." It is only her second visit to Asgard, shortly after the engagement feast, but decades seem to lay their struggles on her shoulders.

Odin simply inclines his head towards the girl, eyes on his sons. Thor takes the lead.

"Come, cousin." he lifts her up by her armpits. "You look like you could use a very strong drink."

"She says she is sorry," Loki translates, "but with the state of Olympus, she could not return home in her current condition."

Odin inclines his head, considering the girl's pride. "We are glad to have you, Nike."

The swords vanish from her hands and she slumps a little. "Thank you…I- I-"

"She appreciates it," Loki offers, taking her arm. "By your leave, Father."

The brothers help Nike from the throne room. "Are you hurt?" Loki asks; a crease has settled itself on his forehead.

"Not my blood. Some Spartan's, I think. Or a Trojan soldier? I don't remember." A stone catches her foot, and her legs give way; Thor scoops her up as if she weighs nothing.

"It is bad," he asks, "this war?"

"It is a schism in my world, and I in the middle, falling, all hands grasping at my hair as I do so. I am Atlas."

They carry her to the family quarters and set her on a couch in Loki's antechamber. Instantly she misses the safety of being held, of feeling like someone was protecting her. A cloth is placed in her hand.

"The golden apple?" Loki asks. "It is that which began it?"

"Yes, foolish Paris," she spits out his name, wiping the blood from her cheeks. "He thought to steal Menelaus' wife, to violate the bread and salt."

"So why are the Greeks not clear victors?"

"Because the Trojans have valiant warriors, and Helene went willingly. Even so," she hands the cloth to Loki, gesturing that he should get what she missed, "it is not so simple as politics. My family is not known for their unbiased consideration of issues. Everyone must take a side."

Thor chuckles. "They are so concerned with Midgardian follies?"

"No they…they desire sacrifices. War means hecatombs, virgins even."

Loki's eyes widen. "Virgins?"

"A princess, a priestess of Artemis, has already been sacrificed unwillingly in her name." She says all this in a dull monotone, trying to forget. The two brothers share aghast looks at the words; it is a strange society that demands humans to be killed for them.

"You fight in the war?"

"No. I was bestowing honors when a man saw me and thought me to be a prize." Nike laughs bitterly. "Neither side gains my favor with that exercise."

"Then what-" a look from Thor cuts Loki off. A mottled collection of bruises cover Nike's shoulders and neck, fists and hands, like a rag doll thrown about. Five perfect circles deck her throat, spread unmistakably like a hand.

"Ah, yes." another harsh laugh. "Whereas Mother and Aphrodite attempt to talk or bribe me to their sides, Father believes force to be more likely." Despite her tone, red-hued shame flushes into her cheeks. A long moment of silence follows. Loki skitters up.

"I'm going to go find something for you to eat."

Head cocked, Nike watches him leave the room. "Does he not like me?"

Thor laughs heartily. "I think, cousin, he likes you too much. He doesn't know what to do."

A light smile softens her face, takes away the war and turns her into a dreaming girl. "I'll have to fix that, won't I?"