The glacier knocks in the cupboard

The desert sighs in the bed

And the crack in the tea cup opens

A lane to the land of the dead

-W.H. Auden


Unfortunately, there needed to be another meeting in the main hall, which Darcy had now not-so-affectionately deemed 'the War Room'. ''I hate this. We need to stop filibustering and get something accomplished. They're counting on us back at home,'' she ranted to Loki as she got dressed, struggling with the bodice of her emerald green gown. Her arms weren't nearly long enough, it seemed. Turning around, she demanded in frustration, ''Here, help me with the back of this stupid outfit. More and more its seeming like we may not get any answers at all. Or that Odin might say that there's nothing he can do. It's all getting very ''Dr. Strangelove'' and I'm not digging the gloomy fatalism.''

''What would you suggest? A happy fatalism?'' Rather than helping her fasten the back of her dress as she had requested, Loki pressed himself against her and slipped his hands underneath the fabric.

''Maybe. Or at least something more Vonnegut-esque. Hey, don't start anything right now, please,'' she scolded, elbowing him in the ribs.

''But everyone still dies in the end?'' wondered Loki, reluctantly pulling his hands away from her enticing, creamy skin and dutifully focusing on helping her with the gown.

''Not everyone.'' Darcy laughed, but the sound had a bitter edge. ''This is a pretty grim conversation, isn't it?''

He shrugged and gently spun her around to face him. ''Now, if Sif or any of the Norns try to say anything to you, just ignore them.''

Finding this rather unhelpful advice, she regarded him with a roll of her eyes.''I understand about Sif, but its a little difficult to disregard a comment from one of the people who supposedly controls the destiny of the entire universe.''

''On the contrary, I think it's quite easy. I do it all the time.'' He grinned at her, but the grin didn't reach his eyes. Darcy was certain that ignoring Fate wasn't quite as simple as Loki pretended it was.


In the hall, this time, there were less people gathered. Only Odin, Thor, Sif, and one of the Norns, Verdandi, were present in addition to Loki and Darcy. In daylight, the room seemed slightly less foreboding, the bright golden light that came streaming through the large windows leant an incredible warmth despite the heavy pall of the decisions that remained unmade.

Darcy glanced around the table. Everyone was silent and looked profoundly unhappy, except for Loki, whose face once again registered no emotion. It was as though he deliberately refrained from displaying any trace of feeling while in the company of Odin and the other Asgardians. As if he were frightened that he might reveal something, give something away that could be used against him. This silence frustrated Darcy, but primarily it made her heart ache, to see him freeze over like that, become a statue. And perhaps because of that sorrow she felt that she needed to overcompensate by boldly and loudly stepping into the midst of interdimensional politics, becoming the proverbial Ugly American. But Darcy didn't care how she might be perceived at this point and so she was the first to speak, anything to slice through this chilly, blank silence.

''Ok, Thor destroyed the Bifrost, right?'' she began, false enthusiasm clinging to each word like flies to overripe fruit. Thor's ears perked up and he nodded, listening with encouragement, or at least humoring her. Sif responded with an eye-roll, wanting desperately, Darcy knew, to make some sort of cutting remark, or accuse her of not knowing her place. She deliberately ignored the look, as Loki had suggested earlier. ''And that was one of the things that set this all in motion,'' Darcy continued. ''But it's theoretically possible to travel the worlds without one—the shamans can do it, Odin brought all of us here...isn't it possible that we could somehow...make repairs? Sew the fabric of everything back together? Readjust something?''

''Readjust something?'' Odin let out a harsh cough of laughter. The sound reverberated fiercely off of the walls. ''Shuffle the cosmos like a deck of cards? Be serious, child.''

Darcy was truly beginning to hate everyone constantly referring to her as a child. ''I am serious! We have to be able to change something. Or then why can't we somehow create a bridge to take us back before anything went wrong?'' This suggestion seemed idiotic, even to her, but she was furiously throwing out whatever idea came into her head, simply because she couldn't stand not doing anything.

''I believe that would create something that Jane once called a 'paradox,' '' Thor interjected. He looked proud of himself.

Odin merely seemed thoughtful. ''But where did it go wrong?'' the old warrior asked Darcy directly, his single blue eye boring into her like a cigarette against the palm of a hand. ''Really, can you answer that? Can you know with absolute certainty the precise moment or event in time to alter? The genesis of all that we are now facing? Naturally, if you had only one chance, you'd want to get it right or you might find that you haven't changed anything or that you've made it spectacularly worse.'' He sighed as Darcy's face fell, the sound like ashes.

''Oh, the naïve belief that you can find a loophole that doesn't become a slipknot in the end...'' Odin chuckled to himself, almost sadly. ''I admire your tenacity and your passion, I do,'' he told Darcy, his voice very nearly tinged with kindness. ''But you must have more respect for the boundaries of nature. The kind of alteration that you are asking for is all but impossible without the most extreme of sacrifices.''

''What kind of sacrifices?'' Darcy asked softly. There was absolute silence in the room.

''Just know that they are required,'' Odin replied in a calm tone. ''And if you want something badly enough, it should hardly matter. Nothing comes free. You must be willing to give up anything at any time, never being allowed the choice as to what or when, leaving it to the province of Fate, where it belongs. That's what sacrifice is, child.'' He rapped his knuckles on the table for emphasis. ''The stuff of great tragedy and great love. And those who seek out the gods, who seek out our worlds, learn this sooner or later. And they don't always like what they find.''

''But we still need to make a decision,'' Sif spoke up urgently. ''We're running out of time.'' No shit, that's what I keep saying, Darcy thought sourly. Then, seemingly out of the ether, an idea sprang sharply into the forefront of her mind like a slap.

''The Tesseract,'' blurted Darcy. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Loki visibly flinch at the exclamation, the first movement of his face since the meeting had began. I'm sorry, she whispered into his mind, but it's an option. ''It's unlimited energy. It helped to tear the universe apart, so it can also put it back together.''

Sif drew in a sharp, mean breath at this suggestion, but was quieted with a single glance from the Allfather.

''I can see now why Loki is so enamored of you. You're as stubborn as he is.'' Odin glared at Darcy, then at the god of mischief, who was still maddeningly silent. ''The Tesseract needs a very specific vessel to channel it for a specific purpose, and even then, it will do only what it wants. You can't just toss it around and expect it to obey.''

''I know that,'' Darcy replied, and with all the bravery that she could muster, continued, ''That's not what I asked. Theoretically, could it work?''

''Of course. Of course it could work.'' The ancient warrior didn't say anything else, but his eyes were rather grim.

''Three more days,'' spoke Verdandi, holding up her thin fingers. Her voice sounded like the wind, airy and clear. ''That is all the time left to decide.''


After the meeting abruptly ended with Verdandi's declaration, Darcy ran back to Loki's room, straight to the bookcase. She pulled down stack after stack of books and sat on the floor with them, flipping crazily through each of the ancient, yellowed pages, the strange maps and diagrams, the miles of unfamiliar runic text. She was like a madwoman, her blood felt like it was tap-dancing with rage and fire. The door swung forcefully open, and Loki stormed in.

''What are you trying to do?'' he asked her furiously, running a hand through his hair in weary frustration. His eyes looked like the breakers on a wave.

''I'm trying to save us, what are you trying to do?'' Darcy exclaimed in response, turning pages so furiously that they were nearly wrenched from their spines. ''You barely say a damn word when we're in those meetings...hardly anyone does except me! And you guys are supposed to be gods, you're supposed to have answers! Why am I doing all the thinking?'' She slammed the book closed and then threw it to the floor. ''I can't read these unless you teach me how.''

He sighed. ''You're becoming hysterical. Even if I did, they wouldn't help. They're just old tomes full of legends and spells. I don't know what you're expecting to find.'' He hesitated a moment, then added, ''And Darcy...I have the sense that Odin is testing you somehow.''

''Testing me? Why, what for?''

''I'm not certain, but it worries me. I don't pretend to understand the Allfather's plan, but he and those three crones already know exactly what's going to happen. It's already been decided, probably long ago.'' For all that he claimed to be able to ignore fate, Loki's expression had grown quite troubled, almost childlike. For a moment, he looked very lost.

''Well then what is it? What's going to happen?''

''We can't know. But whatever it is, it has already begun.'' His voice sounded heavy and jagged, like sharp stones.

Darcy got to her feet and paced angrily. ''I don't buy it. Then this is all some kind of weird, elaborate ruse to...to what...keep us running in circles? Why the hell are we here if they already know what's going to happen? And why haven't they told us?''

He shook his head. ''That's what concerns me. Unfortunately, now all we can do is keep our eyes and ears open and watch this thing play itself out. If Verdandi was correct, then we'll find out soon enough.''

She glared at him, her expression stormy. ''I don't accept it. I think that's a bullshit cop-out, especially for you. Damn gods and fates jerking everyone around just for the hell of it, withholding information just to watch us squirm, dangle like worms on the ends of hooks!And you're putting up with it! Aren't you supposed to be like, the rebel badass of this group? All I wanna be anarchy?'' She half-heartedly attempted at a gritty English accent, but it fell flat.

''Fighting it isn't going to change the fact that its true,'' Loki replied. ''And the Sex Pistols were overrated,'' he added with a slight sneer.

''I'm not fighting it. I'm saying I don't believe it. You can't make people believe things they don't want to, no matter how much evidence you may have. We're still gonna keep on making excuses to believe the way we do. It's called cognitive dissonance, and it's the way many people on Earth cope with the insanity that is daily life. Our minds are the one place where we have free will. That's why the idea of losing them is so terrifying.''

''And yet you willingly opened yours to me.'' He smiled at her sideways, sending her blood spinning. Her mind wasn't the only thing she'd willingly opened for him.

She made a show of casually shrugging. ''Better the devil you know.''

He laughed. Darcy loved the way Loki looked when he really laughed—not maniacally, not bitterly—but honestly. Even some small amount of joy on his face was rare enough to be beautiful.

''And the Sex Pistols weren't overrated,'' she countered. ''They were just unfortunate. Punk rock was an ugly business back then.''

''But real.''

Darcy threw her arms up in exasperation. ''Is it only real when someone dies?''

''That's the only time it's real. Once it stops being safe. Once you realize that you're not playing at a game, not putting on a costume and acting a part. It only hurts when its real. Love is the same, I suppose.'' He sank down into the chair by the open window, stretching out his long legs. A chilly breeze ruffled his hair.

''Is there going to be a storm?'' asked Darcy with a slight shiver, wrapping her arms around herself. ''It feels like there is.''

Without taking his eyes off of her, Loki reached up and shut the window with a forceful bang. ''Come here.''

The expression on his face was both pleading and deadly serious. Begging and demanding. These were the two states he knew best, and he knew them very well. Sighing, she crossed the room until she was standing right in front of him. Leaning forward slowly, the god reached out his hands to grab her by the waist and yank her towards him gently but with enough urgency to make her cry out in quiet, unexpected delight.

The idea that she might lose him left Darcy full of a numb, heavy dread. The sensation pummelled her with its weight. What hurt more was the sense that she might truly be powerless, just a disposable piece being moved across a giant board at the whims of the fates. This was not a comfortable thought at all, it felt like a shard of glass lodged in her spleen. And so, with all of her strength, she denied and ignored it, pushing it far back into a dark corner in both of their minds and burying it there until she couldn't feel it anymore. Putting her hands on Loki's shoulders for support, Darcy climbed onto the chair so that she faced him, straddling him with her legs, though it was slightly difficult in the long dress.

''Everything changed so fast,'' she murmured, looking into his eyes. She could feel time moving, crawling along her skin like ants, each second now announcing its presence with an undeniable chill, the sound of icicles falling to the ground and shattering. Darcy thought back to the question that Odin had asked her earlier, 'But where did it go wrong?'

She tried to ask something, but it stuck in her throat. She tried again. ''What if it's...me?'' Her voice was quiet. Loki stared back at her curiously. ''I mean,'' Darcy continued, fumbling for the words, ''what if I'm the piece in all of this that's wrong? Think about it...since I moved into that apartment and started working with SHIELD, things just went from funny to strange to apocalyptic pretty damn fast, don't you think? What if I'm actually some kind of chaos magnet?'' The thought was crushing. It squeezed all the air from her lungs.

''And what if you are?'' he responded after a moment, running his hands soothingly up and down the sides of her body. ''What could you possibly do about that? You must stop trying to control everything, you're making yourself miserable. But just so we're clear, I want you to know that I don't believe it. I just think that you have, for whatever reason, a tendency to find yourself wandering into the middle of some very bizarre situations. And I, for one, am certainly glad of it.''

Darcy sat with this though for a moment, then another question trampled through her mind, eagerly demanding an answer.''Why did you come back to earth at all, after what happened? Why did Odin let you?''

''It was a mutual decision between Midgard and Asgard, I had no say in it. The Allfather told me that my true punishment would reveal itself in time, and that meanwhile I should make amends by being useful, by working for the people I had attempted to destroy. Thor, Fury and the rest of those...Avengers also felt that things were safer for them if they knew where I was at all times. They didn't want me free to roam the cosmos, looking for more armies to lead against them.'' Loki laughed mirthlessly, his eyes icing over slightly at the edges.

Finding herself suddenly very tired, Darcy let out a sigh. ''I swear, it seems that all you gods and fates ever do is begin wars, punish each other, and fuck with everyone. No wonder the universe is imploding.'' She leaned her head down on his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

''If we never make it back to Earth, you know what I'm gonna miss the most?'' she asked, after a moment.

He shook his head. ''What?''

''Starbucks,'' replied Darcy.

Loki laughed, the sound genuine. ''Thor mentioned many times that he was quite enamored of Midgardian coffee drinks. He was, however, confused as to why they were an integral part of the worship of a mermaid goddess.''

''She's not a mermaid, she's a siren. You know, one of those beautiful women on a rock out at sea that calls sailors to their doom? And the name's from Moby Dick, another gloomy, fatalistic book.''

''Does everyone die at the end?''

''Not everyone. Almost, though.'' Darcy considered this for a moment. ''When you think about it like that, I guess Starbucks is pretty depressing too.''

''Maybe most things are, when you break the symbolism down to its core.'' The god spoke casually, rather unfazed by this notion.

''I'm still gonna miss it, though.''

''Of course you are.''

He held her like that until she fell asleep.


She knew that she was going into a nightmare, but it didn't matter, she went deliberately, because Verdandi had told her that she must. Somewhere inside that nightmare there was knowledge, and she needed to find it. First, she had to go further. She had to go alone. As Darcy wandered down the path, she chanted softly to herself, 'it's only a dream, it's only a dream' and continued walking, passing the well that she had seen before. The road slowly changed, the sky grew even darker, the mean purpled blue-black of a bruise. Overhead, a bird circled, as if it were following her. She breathed deeply to calm herself. Up ahead, there stood the blurry outline of a human figure. It'sonlyadreamit'sonlyadream. Its head was bowed, and it wore a long, hooded black cloak. Darcy walked closer. The being slowly raised its hooded head, and Darcy clamped a hand down over her own mouth to keep from making a sound. It was female, looked almost childlike, perhaps around thirteen years old. Half of her face was pale and lovely, with green eyes and sculpted cheekbones. The other half was a rotted mess of decomposition, large chunks of flesh disintegrating to reveal the skeleton beneath. She didn't say a word, just pointed with her hand. Darcy followed her finger to the ground, where the earth had been turned to reveal two small, freshly dug graves.

''Wha—'' she started, her heart beating so fast it made her seasick.

The half-rotted little girl moved her lips, maybe trying to smile, maybe trying to speak. Then Darcy heard her.

''Your children are dead,'' she said.

It's only a dream, it's only a dream, it's only a dream

''I don't have any children,'' Darcy managed to whisper in a shaking voice.

The girl shook her head. ''Not anymore.''

That was enough. ''Loki!'' Darcy screamed into the grey air. ''Loki, I need you now!''

Out of nowhere, a familiar hand reached out, clamped down over her wrist and pulled and then she felt as though she was crashing through a pane of glass. Nauseated and dizzy, she blinked crazily as she found herself once again in Loki's room, now lying on the bed. He was next to her, and he looked absolutely furious. ''What were you thinking?'' he demanded in a low voice. ''You must be more careful. You're too untrained to be journeying out so far. Don't you understand...it's not just a dream! There are dangers there just waiting to catch you off guard, waiting to swallow you.'' He paused a moment, breathing heavily, trying to will himself to calm down. She looked for him through the blue shadows of the room, reached out a hand to wrap her fingers around his wrist. After a moment, she felt the tension and anger drain away, felt his pulse slow as he sighed and pressed his cool forehead against hers.

''I feel like Little Red Riding Hood,'' Darcy admitted, visibly shaken. Her shoulders were trembling, her skin chilly and covered in goosebumps and sweat.

''Little Red Riding Hood got off easy, as I understand,'' responded the god with a wry smile, pulling her into a tight embrace.

''Loki, she got eaten.''

''Trust me, it's not the worst thing that could happen out there. You mustn't believe the things that you see or hear. It could be a trap, meant to confuse you.'' His tone of voice was serious.

Darcy shuddered deeply, considering this for a moment. ''I saw some horrible things...it was...'' she broke off, swallowed. ''Never mind. I don't want to think about it. We live in a very disturbing universe, don't we?'' She reached up a hand and threaded her fingers through his hair.

Loki nodded. ''At best it's indifferent, at worst it actively seeks out blood. All of the worlds are like that, I think, at their core.''

She leaned in even closer, could feel his cool breath on her skin. ''They say that you lie. That you're the god of lies, in fact. So how come you've never lied to me?'' Darcy slid her hands over the planes of his face, tracing the sharp contours of his cheekbones with her fingertips. She'd never before been so fascinated by anyone physically before. She never got tired of exploring him with her entire being. Maybe that was because he was a god, an alien, something foreign and feared. A construct, a daydream, or a nightmare. Something that you brushed the edges of as you were falling asleep, then promptly forgot. It felt interesting to be able to touch something like that, to have it be real. So she had to keep reminding herself that it was—that he was—real and solid. You only needed to look close enough at him to see that Loki clearly wasn't human. He had such cold, pale skin. His eyes were an unearthly shade, colors clearly not made by nature. He was beautiful in the most frightening way possible. Because he was real. And she'd felt him inside and out, touched and tasted him, been inside of his memories, where the truth was, where the madness had lived.

''I never needed to lie to you,'' he explained. ''You don't have any agenda. You're a stubborn, honest person, and you have a good heart. You don't play games.''

''It's funny you say that, because it's what I'm constantly being accused of. 'Playing at a dangerous game,' that's all I hear. I just want to know what the hell kind of game they're all playing, cause frankly it seems a lot more dangerous than falling in love and trying to save the world.'' Mentally, Darcy bit her tongue after realizing what she'd just partially admitted to. She hoped in vain that he hadn't noticed, and of course he had, but to make it easier he didn't mention it, just smiled.

''Tell me a story,'' she said, trying to stop time with her mind, slow it to a slothlike crawl so that these moments of peace might last longer than the rest. Three more days. And then what? She tried desperately not to think of it, tucking herself into his embrace, pulling his arm across her chest.

He smiled against Darcy's hair, strangely touched by her motions, by the fact that she wanted to always pull him closer. It made him feel warm. ''All right. Once, many years ago, by your standards, before you were even born, I visited Midgard on a whim. Now I'd been there quite a few times before, naturally, however this time I went simply because I was bored of Asgard. I went to London—a city I rather liked, by the way—and took in the changing culture. I met quite a few interesting people...''

The story wove on, Darcy laughing loudly at certain anecdotes, and shaking her head at others, until she was nodding off to the hypnotic cadence of Loki's voice. She was blissfully relaxed, wanting only to sleep and not have to dream of ghoulish half-dead creatures, eerie pathways and guarded wells.

She did, at first. The dream began interestingly enough. Darcy found herself inside a smoky, dingy nightclub, a hole in the wall full of rather dirty-looking young people, all wearing various styles of ripped clothing, severe eye makeup and hair in multicolored shades, teased and spiked into impossible styles. Everything was noisy and nasty and wonderful. The air smelled like sweat and happy anger. Drifting through the crowd like a ghost, Darcy grinned widely as she noticed a familiar figure across the room, loitering casually against the wall. He wore incredibly tight black pants and a ripped t-shirt that exposed an expanse of lean, sculpted chest, a cigarette in his hand and a devious smile on his face. His raven hair was shorter, stuck out in bizarre angles away from his head, and he had what looked like a safety pin jabbed through one of his earlobes. There were the cheekbones, the eyes, the grin. Loki. He looked fantastic, like he was having the time of his life, all mischief and anarchy and sex. She tried to move closer, but as she did, Darcy felt as though she was stuck in quicksand. The sound dulled around her, everything began to move in slow motion, except for one person, a woman who emerged out of the shadows from the other side of the club. She wore tall boots that were scuffed and splattered with mud, ripped fishnet stockings and a leather miniskirt. Her messy mane of hair was nearly white. She raised her head and stared at Darcy, her pale face and eyes now appallingly familiar beneath mountains of heavy kohl and mascara. It was the third Norn, Urd, the one who hadn't yet spoken to her. But now, the woman opened her darkly lipsticked mouth and said, in a desert voice, ''Did you think you could hide from us here? Wherever you go, we are there.''

''Why can't you and your stupid sisters just leave us alone?'' Darcy practically screamed in frustration.

''You can't be left alone, dear. And neither can he. None of them can. Not now, not then. Never.''

''Why not?''

''Because someone has to decide. Decide which threads to cut, which to keep. Which to weave into a larger pattern.'' Urd reached into the pocket of her leather jacket and pulled out a cigarette, her movements exhausted and yet graceful as she struck a match against the heel of her boot and lit it.

''You think your lives so hard,'' she continued, taking a drag off of the cigarette and leaning against one of the few tables scattered all around the tiny, cramped interior of the club. Time had now completely frozen itself, everyone around remained in some sort of suspended animation. There was a shot glass full of amber liquid on the table. Urd picked it up and downed it with a swift gulp. ''You all don't understand how good you have it,'' she complained, her voice bitter and resigned, like vinegar. ''Your lives have a limit, and a plan. Why can't you just let it play itself out? Why do you all rage and fight for your imagined freedoms?''

''Because they're not imaginary. And because I'm not comforted by the idea of a few weird women being the only ones who control the fate of the entire cosmos. That's too much power. It's like an...an oligarchy, or something.''

''My, my,'' Urd said mockingly, bringing the cigarette to her lips again, ''what big words you have! Someone must have gone to college.'' Smoke trailed out of her nostrils, giving her a brief, dragon-like appearance. ''We only do what must be done. Left to your own devices, your realm and all the others would have died out long ago. There is a careful order to all things.''

''Screw your order!'' Darcy yelled, taking a step forward. She wished fervently that she could zap the Norn with her taser until she glowed in the dark.

Urd smiled an ugly smile. ''I admire your enthusiasm, but don't waste your strength.'' She ground her cigarette out beneath the toe of her boot. ''You and your Lord of Misrule will kneel soon enough.'' She shook her head. ''In the end, you always do.''


Darcy awoke from her dream still trembling with anger. She was alone in Loki's bed, the shadows dimly painting the walls in bluish light. Everything still smelled of smoke, whisky, and the past, somehow. Getting up out of bed, Darcy slipped her shoes on and left the room. She headed down the hall until she located the path that led out to the garden, desperately needing some fresh air.

She passed Heimdall, the gatekeeper. His back was to her, he stared out surveying the horizon. ''I don't think you quite understand what you're getting into,'' he said in a deep voice without even turning around. Of course, Darcy thought to herself. Because it wouldn't be a day on Asgard if someone didn't remind that she didn't understand anything.

''How would you know?'' she asked, not even bothering to fake politeness anymore.

He seemed almost amused at her exasperation. ''I know because I can see much farther than you. Many of us here can. You should listen.''

''Then why do I get the feeling that everyone here is lying about something? Or at the very least, withholding information?''

''If we are guilty of such then it is only for your own good,'' Heimdall told her firmly.

''You know, I'm really sick and tired of everyone telling me what's for my own good, or what's bad for me, or who. I can make up my own mind, I can decide these things for myself. I am not a child! You gods are just a bunch of...of...benevolent dictators!'' Darcy exclaimed angrily, her hands clamped into tight fists at her sides. She recalled her semi-drunken conversation with Natasha Romanov just moments before she'd met Loki, their discussion of ruling tactics. ''But it doesn't work. We have free will!''

''Do you? Or maybe you only believe that because we told you to?'' The question wasn't asked meanly, just honestly, and this made Darcy all the more angry, particularly after the conversation she'd had with Urd in her dream.

''I hate it here.'' She whispered, a sigh, a hiss.

He looked at her, almost sadly and with great compassion, though she didn't understand why. ''It won't be much longer,'' he said, then turned away to stare at the sky.