Lonesome Traveler
I am a weary and a lonesome traveler
I traveled here and then I traveled yonder
I traveled cold and then I traveled hungry
I traveled in the mountains and I traveled in the valleys
Traveled with the rich men, and traveled with the poor
One of these days I'm going to stop all my traveling
After a night spent sleeping off Frigga's heady mead, The Avengers returned to the resplendent halls to find Steve and Loki waiting for them at a table in the Queen's antechamber.
The surface of the table they sat at was heavily laden with fruits and pastries, and Tony found he had an appetite where there had been none before.
He picked up something that looked suspiciously like a doughnut heavily encrusted in sugar, and stuffed it into his mouth. He was sure he'd never tasted something so delicious.
"It's good to see you," Natasha said, settling in behind the table with more dignity than Tony had managed before scooping fruit onto her plate. She grabbed an especially powdery pastry and set it on the edge of her golden plate.
"Oh, mead," Thor enthused, pouring a hearty glass for himself before offering the pitcher to the team.
"Fill 'er up." Clint held up his cup. Thor obliged readily, his grin widening as Clint took a healthy swallow.
"It's good to see you," Natasha told Steve, her mouth white from the powdered pastry.
"It's good to be back," Steve smiled back. His plate was full with food, but Tony noticed it had hardly been touched.
"Shit!" Tony exclaimed without warning, startling the team. "Pepper's going to be mad as hell. I didn't even leave her a note."
"I'm sure she's better off than we've been," Clint said, setting his emptied goblet down on the table with a heavy thud before grabbing another pastry.
"Why not tell her it was a boring trip?" Loki ventured quietly.
"Was that a joke?" Tony gasped.
"It's not a bad idea," the ranger mused.
Tony laughed, patting Clint on the back.
"I'll just tell her it was a 'bros before hoes' kind of thing." He leered.
Clint shot Tony an even look.
"I wouldn't tell her that," he advised sagely. "At least, not if I wanted to survive the conversation."
"Clint is a wise man," Thor said around a mouthful of apple.
"Fair enough." Tony laughed again, but it was strained.
They talked and joked late into the morning, filling the great hall with sounds of merriment.
Tony was only half surprised that Loki's wit could be turned to humor given half the chance—he'd seen it when Loki had broken into his garage, but he hadn't had a chance to really appreciate it until now.
Steve leaned back against his seat, sated and quiet, a distant smile on his face. The team left him alone aside from gentle sidebars.
The day prior, he'd been a collapsed skeleton in a cave in Hell. Even Tony felt this was enough to earn a reprieve from his jabs.
Loki tested the bond between them. Steve's thoughts were turned inward, and Loki could tell he wasn't really paying attention to the words of his team, just that he was happy to hear them.
As if sensing the connection through the bond, Steve looked over at Loki and smiled.
"The gods will demand a feast before we send you home," Odin's voice broke their quiet camaraderie.
"Not now, father," Loki frowned. Thor shot a look at his brother, and Loki realized it was one of agreement.
"We must, or we will never hear the end of it."
"Let them feast alone, then. We are tired," Loki returned tightly.
Odin opened his mouth to disagree but Thor cut him off.
"He is right, Father. We are not yet ready for such an affair."
Odin tried to not look shocked at Thor's vocal agreement with his brother.
"Perhaps a rain check?" Natasha suggested.
"They will not like it, but I suppose arrangements can be made," the All-Father agreed after a moment. "They will sing your tales, sons," Odin rumbled after a moment's pause, and for the first time in Loki's life, he recognized pride in his father's eyes.
"It is not a tale fit for song," Loki said quietly.
0o0o0o0o0o0o
They left without ceremony that evening. Frigga and Odin lead them to Heimdall's gates where the guardian eyed them.
"Loki, you have changed," he observed quietly while the others were distracted, arguing among themselves about some trivial matter.
"Have I?" He asked distantly.
"Indeed. I never thought such a thing possible. My heart is gladdened that we will not fight on the fields of battle," the guardian said. "A new day shines on Asgard."
"Heimdall, the sun is setting," Thor pointed out, coming up from behind them.
"That is not what I meant." The tiniest of smiles quirked Heimdall's lips, though he looked worried when he glanced out at the setting sun.
"Heimdall, open the gate," Odin commanded, silencing the childish quibble the Avengers had started.
Heimdall moved his staff, and a great light shot out from the platform, piercing the heart of the galaxy and disappearing beyond. Steve felt his heart swell. Although he hated traveling on the Bitfrost, knowing that Earth lay at its terminus made the journey easier. It was not the Earth he had grown up in, not the one he'd met Bucky and the Howling Commandos in—that world was gone when they had departed it. But the world now, with its loud music and blaring TV shows and general disregard of common courtesies was also filled with vibrant, living, people that hadn't changed as much as Steve had first thought in returning from his seventy-year absence.
"Let's go home," he said.
Tony didn't need to be told twice, and bounded forward eagerly, Natasha and Clint not far behind. The remaining trio stood a moment longer, and Odin clasped a hand each on the shoulders of his sons.
"Today is a joyous day. All of my sons are fit to be rulers of Asgard."
Loki's eyes widened. "Father?"
"You have endured the greatest trials, son, and found worthy. When I leave for Valhalla, I know in my heart Asgard will be well kept."
"You have many years, father," Thor said.
"Perhaps," Odin chuckled. "Now go."
Thor and Loki stepped onto the great road.
"Steven Rogers, a moment," Odin called as they set off.
Steve turned hesitantly.
The All-father weighed him with a heavy eye.
"You have lost much on behalf of my family," he said. "Twice, now, for Loki. You saved him from his fate. You have saved us all."
Steve stood rooted. Years of PR campaigns and leading troops hadn't prepared him for this sort of praise: his brain fumbled for a suitable response before he found one and squared his shoulders.
"It is the duty of any soldier."
Odin visibly fought a smile, aware of Steve's discomfort.
"This is true," he conceded, "And yet few willingly act so selflessly on the behalf of another, especially one such as Loki."
"He's not an evil soul," Steve said quickly in Loki's defense. "I've seen true evil."
"You have," Odin agreed easily. "And yet Loki's path was one of destruction. You have turned his course when I could not: some would say this makes you a greater god than even I."
"I'm just a man!" Steve countered, embarrassed that the king of Aesir would place someone like Steve above himself.
"No longer, Steve Rogers. You have eaten the apples of eternal youth and drunk the mead of immortality. You died and fought through Hel's realms to return my son to me, and you not only returned him whole, but a better man than he was. They will sing your song for many, many years."
"I couldn't have done it without the help of my friends," Steve looked past Odin's shoulder, his eyes growing distant before he locked eyes with Odin again.
"I have lived many years, but in the many centuries, I have yet to see an individual such as you. Steven Rogers, we opened these halls to you before. With my queen and guardian as my witnesses, I say this of you: should anything happen to my sons, you are worthy to take my throne in their stead."
"What? That's not necessary—" Steve protested.
Odin smiled.
"I have three sons and years to live. This will not happen on the morrow, and perhaps not at all."
"Do not fret, Steve Rogers," Frigga broke in kindly, "It is a place of honor, not eventuality."
Steve hesitated before finally nodding. He ducked his head.
"I thank you for the honor you bestow on me," he said.
"Now go, Steve Rogers, before your friends begin to worry," Frigga gave Steve a slight push down the crystal road.
0o0o0o0o
Asgard faded behind Steve, replaced by the dizzying blur of stars and galaxies, and then the familiar surroundings of Earth. He landed lightly next to Loki and Thor, who had been gazing up at the sky quizzically.
"Steve!" Thor said with a broad smile, "We wondered why you dallied! We feared we would have to seek for you on yet another adventure!"
"Just some last words from your parents," Steve replied guardedly. Loki gave him a questioning look that he shrugged off. Odin's offer had filled him with a foreboding he wasn't ready to discuss yet.
"I've already called Pepper. She's got a team on her way."
"Anybody let Agent Fury know we're back?" Steve asked.
"I'm sure all of SHIELD is tracking on our return."
Mobilization with Pepper in charge took under fifteen minutes: before too long, they could see the Stark jet speeding across the sky.
If planes could be flown angrily, Pepper had mastered it. The aircraft came in low, the jets rotating downward as it switched to its vertical landing capabilities.
Pepper was sitting copilot, glaring at the Avengers through the pane of glass that separated them.
"Maybe we were better off in Hell," Clint ventured, catching sight of her stormy face.
"No fury like a woman or something, right?" Tony asked rhetorically.
"Like a woman scorned," Steve corrected automatically. "Shakespeare, Tony."
"Not my department. Anyway, pretty sure the bard didn't know her."
"No, I don't think he did," Clint agreed.
Pepper was running towards them almost as soon as the plane hit the ground, concern and anger battling for dominance on her face.
She stopped short, however, once she realized Steve was with them and beyond looking a little tired, wholly alive.
"Steve's alive?" Pepper asked in a whisper. "How? The news reports—"
"They're going to have a field day with this one," Tony agreed, pulling her into an embrace once she'd come close enough. "Steve, if I'm not careful, you'll usurp my place as media-fallout boy."
Pulling away, Pepper was on Steve next, her head buried in his chest. Tony waggled his eyebrows over her head and asked, "Should I be worried?"
Steve rolled his eyes.
"What happened?" She asked once she'd pulled away, wrapping her hand tightly around Tony's.
The team looked at one another.
"Steve was dead. I saw the reports. Somebody caught his death on camera phone. Nobody survives a skewering like that, not even a man like Steve," she continued when no one answered her.
"He didn't," Clint admitted reluctantly.
Pepper looked at Clint before she nodded slowly. "Let's get you back to the Tower. We can talk once you're all settled in."
"At the bar. We need alcohol to tell this tale," Tony broke in as they began walking back towards the plane.
"Lots of it."
0o0o0o0o0o0o
It wasn't that Loki was deliberately eavesdropping—it was that he'd heard voices coming down the hallway, and it was a sound that has grown progressively rare since their return.
Loki hung in the doorway, watching Natasha provide SHIELD with the necessary information from their journey, reporting that they were not yet battle-ready and would need some time to recover.
Fury acquiesced if only reluctantly, demanding a full report of their transpired adventure.
"I don't think you'll be getting it," Natasha said, hanging up. Thinking she was alone and unobserved, she was much less guarded, and her stress was palatable. She leaned heavily on the table, her head in her hands, fingers crimped into her hair.
He pushed off the frame, ghosting back down the hallway. Although they'd only been back a few days, there was a marked difference in the general atmosphere of the tower. There had been no attempts at group jamborees, and the den, which has been a frequent haunt for the Avengers to gravitate to remained empty.
Steve, Loki knew, was ensconced in his room with his sketchbooks. Romanov and Barton was similarly hidden away, and he could only assume Stark was in his garage. He was out of Niflheim, but It was as though he walked a building haunted by ghosts, and that unsettled him more than he was ready to admit.
He was not ready to acknowledge that he was partially, if not wholly responsible, for the dramatic shift in dynamics. Once, he couldn't have cared less what trials the Avengers endured; what consequences his actions wreaked on them. Unhappy with the burgeoning feelings of guilt and responsibility, he was gladdened to see his brother loitering in the hall. The god of thunder was studiously observing some painting of Stark as Iron Man, but from the look on his face, Loki knew he wasn't thinking about the garish expression of colors or the artist's interpretation of Stark's heroics.
"Brother," he said, his brother starting at Loki's voice—and that was odd—Thor was many things, but he wasn't jumpy—but his face brightened and broke into a smile. Behind his smile, he was tired, his complexion had a greenish pallor, and if Loki didn't know better, he would say his brother looked sick.
"Loki," Thor greeted him.
"I did not know you had become an art critic," he said, nodding at the oil painting.
"What? Oh—" Thor looked back at the piece. "I was only thinking of how similar this was to some of the tapestries that hang from our halls. I think I find Tony's subject material more encouraging."
"Really?" Loki glanced at the painting. He considered it ostentatious, and thematically very similar to many of the gilded tapestries that hung through Asgard. He said as much.
"It is true that there are many great feats of heroism displayed, but I find that I do not care for them as once I did."
The statement was so incongruous with everything Loki knew about his brother, that his sense of unease grew. One day, he would have to unearth everything that had happened to the Avengers, his brother included, which had altered them so.
"Would you care for supper, brother?" Loki asked, looking away from the painting.
"I grow tired of pizza," he admitted. They'd ordered out every night since they'd been back, pizza or Chinese, and Loki, too, had eaten his fill. He hadn't known he missed the communal home-cooked meals until he was left without.
"I will make it." Loki turned and headed towards the kitchen.
Intrigued, Thor followed him.
"You know how to cook?"
"In practice," Loki said, pulling a pot from under the stove. "I have watched Steve."
That seemed like a lifetime ago, and he'd never thought he'd have the opportunity to return to something as banal as cooking again.
"What are you making?" The god peeked over his brother's shoulder as Loki rifled through the pantry.
"Spaghetti," Loki said after a moment of searching for the word.
"It is a good dish," Thor grinned his approval. He watched Loki work in silence, fumbling through the cupboards until he found the requisite dishes and ingredients. He thought back to his conversation with Steve, about the division between women and men's labors; how perhaps the rules could be more fluid than he has been lead to believe.
"What can I do to help?"
Loki looked at him, surprise. His lips curled in anticipated snark, but he stopped himself, forcing his face to relax.
He thrust a box of noodles out at Thor.
"You make these."
"How do I do that?" Thor peered down at the box, eyes scanning the directions.
"Just bring the pot to a boil, and then put them in."
"I shall make quick work of it," Thor declared enthusiastically. Filling the pot with water, he tore the top off the box, and dumped them in all at once. He beamed at his brother.
Loki sighed audibly but without malice. He turned a knob and the stove glowed red briefly.
"You were supposed to put the noodles in after—ah, never mind. Now just wait here, until it boils."
Thor stared at the water for several minutes, as if force of will alone would make it bubble. Once he realized it was not an instant process, he set to watching Loki.
Loki cracked an egg into a bowl and dumped in breadcrumbs over a mass of ground meat, kneading the ingredients together. After adding a few spices, he began to roll the meat into balls.
"What are you doing?"
"I am making meatballs," Loki responded patiently, rolling another ball.
Thor hesitated. Then, "Can I help?"
Loki moved aside, allowing room for his brother. Every meatball they finished was added to an iron skillet, where it sizzled in waiting butter.
Natasha, silent as a cat, was upon them all at once. She set the table, only a word of acknowledgment spoken between them.
Pepper peeked her head into the kitchen when the aromas of cooking pasta and meatballs became irresistible. She opened a bottle of white wine and poured glasses for each chair.
"We need bread, don't we?" Natasha asked.
"And what about a vegetable?" Pepper added, rifling through the fridge. She pulled out bell peppers, cutting them up and adding them to the simmering tomato sauce Loki was making.
Without a word, he surrendered the sauce to Pepper, who mixed the tomato paste and vegetables together, delegating those present to various tasks.
Like atoms derelict of electrons, the rest of the team slowly ambled in. Steve was last, peering first over Loki's shoulder and then Pepper's. Satisfied, he sat down and Tony dealt him in the next hand.
"Spades, this time," Tony said. "Steve, you're my partner. How many books you got?"
"We are finished!" Thor crowed after dumping the pasta into a colander.
Thor portioned the pasta onto the plates, and Pepper, like clockwork, trailed behind him, topping each plate off with sauce while Natasha added slices of garlic bread. Loki came last in their lineup of portioning, dumping several meatballs onto each plate.
They ate dinner, familiar banter filling the silence that had filled Stark Tower since their return.
"What do you say about everyone living here?" Tony asked as the meal came to a finish. "Even you, Loki."
Clint and Natasha shared a look and were the first to respond.
"We already live here, Tony."
"So do I," Steve said. "You made me," he pointed out.
"Where else would I reside?" Thor asked, grabbing several slices of garlic bread.
"They are not bad accommodations," Loki allowed.
"It's okay with you?" Tony looked to Pepper, who smiled in response.
"You should've asked before you offered," she said, not unkindly. "Anyway, it's your tower."
"JARVIS!"
"Sir," JARVIS responded evenly.
"I need you to order some new letters to replace "Stark" on my tower. Get enough to spell 'Avengers' We'll put them up as soon as they're in."
"Understood, sir."
Tony smiled winningly at the group.
"Welcome to the Avengers Tower," he said.
They finished the meal in companionable silence, but after the dishes had been deposited in the sink and Steve set to cleaning them, the team dispersed as quickly and silently as they'd come.
Loki watched the man clean. They both knew that the dish washer was more than equipped to handle the load, but Steve had told him long ago that he found solace in something as mindless as cleaning dishes. When he was done, plates cleaned and dried, he turned around; mild surprise on his face when he saw Loki was still there.
The trickster god had seen little of his bonded since their return, but if the dark hallows that lined his eyes were any indication, he had not been sleeping well.
"Loki?" He asked. "Are you okay?"
"I am fine," he returned. "But I believe the same cannot be said for the rest of the team."
Sighing, Steve slid into the seat across from Loki. He was facing the window, and Loki could see the city's skyline reflected in his eyes. "No, it can't."
Loki had been so deliberate in every action he'd taken his whole life. He planned out all possible repercussions and subsequent reprisals. And in all that time, he had cared naught about the ramifications on those around him. Now that he had to live with the things he'd done through careless action, he felt unmoored and the feelings that swam in his heart were uncomfortable and unwanted.
"Loki," Steve said suddenly. "Have your parents ever done anything purely for the sake of ceremony?"
Loki frowned. "You may have noticed that Asgard is built on ceremony and parade."
"Yes, but have they ever done anything without purpose?"
While Asgard's multiple feasts, ceremonies, and general pomp and circumstance were grandiose, they were never superfluous. "Why do you ask?"
"The reason I was late returning to Earth after the Bitfrost opened is because Odin named me an honorary son. He said that were something to happen, I would be crowned King of Asgard."
The trickster god stared back at Steve. "What else did he say?"
"He said it was because I saved you and acted so heroically. Apparently it was Frigga's idea."
Loki leaned back in his chair, mulling over Steve's words. Loki knew his mother was prescient, and although she kept the future close to her chest, sharing only what she knew with her handmaiden, he was fairly confident she had a pattern of adjusting things in the present to affect the things she saw.
"Do you think it meant anything?"
Steve's intuition was correct—his parents were deliberate people. Odin was careful and methodical in his actions, Frigga even more so. If the Aesir knew what honor they'd bestowed on a lowly Midgardian—even one graced with immortality—there would be an outcry. His parents clearly knew this, but they'd bequeathed the title of honorary son all the same.
"No," Loki said. "It means nothing."
"Are you sure? Because it doesn't seem right to me."
"It is true that their actions are deliberate—but it simply to give you prestige so that your repeated visits will not be frowned upon by the court. Although you have been heroic in the past, you still only a human, and it would be unseemly for the All-father and his lady queen to be seen cavorting with a simple Midgardian."
Steve smiled and nodded at Loki's explanation, but his blue eyes were shrouded in disbelief, and Loki knew his companion did not believe him. Before he could say anything else, the captain stood. "Well, I'm off to bed. Have a goodnight, Loki."
Loki nodded in return, watching Steve disappear down the hall, the fib sitting ill in his throat. He did not know what was coming, knew that it couldn't be good, and that lying to his bonded would earn nothing for his efforts.
But if he were being completely honest, he was lying to himself, as well. He did not want anything unpleasant to befall his mother and perhaps if he could only believe his lie, nothing ill would come of it and Asgard would continue to exist as it always had. Perhaps his parents had truly acted without purpose, simply bestowing an honor upon the man that had saved their son.
But he knew that was a lie, too. The sun was setting in Asgard, and Loki knew as well as anybody that this was the first sign of Ragnarök.
End of Lonesome Traveler
Sorry the epilogue took a minute—my editor pointed out something incongruous and I had to do a longer rewrite than I was expecting, but I think it's stronger for it!
Thanks everybody for the support so far.
The next arc (working title, King and Lionheart) is currently being overhauled. I wrote all of this in the summer of 2012 and it largely languished until I found my dearheart editor, Val. She's helped my writing style improve immensely, helps me throw out what's superfluous, and reorganize the story so it's a better read. K&L is of equal or greater volume than either Lonesome or Wayfaring, so it'll take a little time. But I promise we'll get it up as soon as it's been finished and edited! It takes more time up front, but the result is that when it's ready, it can be posted in short order.
