A very merry Christmas to all of you who celebrate it, and happy holidays to those that don't. Hoping you're all well and enjoy this gift :)

Now that he knew Thanos was almost on his doorstep, Loki was driven to slightly more desperate measures to keep the Other at bay; their proximity explained why the wards in his room were proving ineffective, designed for more long range spell casting. Desperate measures, however, were about as pleasant as they sounded.

He fiddled with the dagger for a long while before getting to work, knowing exactly what he had to do. In his free hand, he summoned a fistful of fire and heated the blade until the tip was glowing a brilliant white before he doused the flames with a flick of his fingers. Then, without the slightest hesitation, he drove the knife into the tender flesh of his inner forearm.

He hissed as pain flared brutally, but he didn't pause as he dragged the blade through his flesh in careful, precise motions, carving out runes with practiced ease. Dribbles of blood spilled from the wounds where they hadn't been cauterised immediately but he paid it no mind, too focussed on his task to worry about it. His magic was bubbling in his chest, a natural defence to pain, but he beat it back angrily, preventing the supernatural healing of the wounds even though it felt sickeningly wrong to do so. Of course, he'd known about the theory of body runes long ago - he had several tattooed over his ribs - but he'd never been driven to blood magic like this before. That's where the desperation came in, he supposed.

As soon as he ran out of skin on his left arm, he switched the dagger to the opposite hand, reheated it and continued on with savage determination on his right. This one was trickier, using his less dominant hand but he was skilled enough to manage it without too much damage. It wasn't until he finished the last flourish on the final rune that the pain really hit, the marks flaring with harsh green light as the protection spells took effect, draining him of energy sharply. He groaned aloud, biting at his lip to keep from crying out as his arms burned.

"Loki?" Stark's computer didn't sound overly concerned, just curious. At least it had ceased to refer to him as Laufeyson, thank the Norns.

"I'm fine," he bit out, ignoring the sweat dripping down his back. The pain was fading now but his hands were still shaking in remembered trauma; he clenched them into fists. His reassurances were ignored though, it seemed, for moments later there was a harsh knock at the door, startling him momentarily.

"Look, I don't even want to know what you're doing in there," Tony called through the barrier, "but Thor is inches away from trying to barge his way in here. Can you please just reassure him that you're alive? For the sake of my tower, if nothing else."

Loki sighed to himself. The mortal was no doubt telling the truth and while he was sure Thor would be unable to bypass his wards, he'd no doubt still cause enough noise to disturb the rest of the tower. With a graceful movement, he rose to his feet, rolling down his sleeves and opening his door.

Stark was still on his doorstep, blinking owlishly at him in surprise. "That was easier than I was expecting," he admitted after a moment. Loki just raised an eyebrow and slid past him. He started marching away, aware that Tony still hadn't moved, so just to startle him he let his magic reach out and slam his bedroom door closed with a crack of noise that had the engineer jumping a foot into the air. He suppressed a smile.

"Brother!" Thor leapt to his feet as soon as he appeared in the doorway, striding towards him. "The Voice informed us that you were hurt!"

"Lower your voice, fool," Loki ordered with a wince. Thor never had learned the difference between talking and shouting, much to his chagrin. "As you see, I am perfectly well."

"But the Voice-"

"Was wrong."

"Jarvis," Tony hissed from behind him as he finally caught up, "is never wrong. Besides, there's blood on your sleeve."

Loki looked down stupidly before he could think it through, catching sight of the smallest stain of red on the green fabric just before Thor snatched his arm and yanked the material up. The runes were still glowing softly.

"That- That was not what I was expecting," Tony said into the silence that followed. He was leaning forwards in curiosity with a small amount of concern lingering in his gaze that Loki couldn't understand - why would he care what Loki was doing to himself? He frowned suddenly then but Loki didn't have a chance to ask why before Thor spoke, diverting his concentration entirely.

"This is blood magic," he said, releasing his hold on the limb like it burned him.

"Yes. Please spare me your lectures on your misguided prejudice, for once Thor. It did you no good as a child and will not now." The number of times Loki had been screamed at by an enraged Thor about the dangers of magic and how it would corrupt his soul until there was nothing left - little did he realise that the continual confrontation was doing exactly that. He stepped away fluidly, not wanting to share space with the thunderer any longer.

"Those runes are dangerous Loki," Thor scolded, regardless of his warning.

"As is any form of magic. I know what I am doing. The runes will keep me safe and I will not continually be attacked whenever I close my eyes. It is a small price to pay."

"You should not be so reckless with your life," the elder god muttered, rubbing at his eyes. He could see the argument brewing but he wasn't willing to cross words with his brother now. Assured that Loki was in no danger of dropping dead, Thor left the room without another word.

Loki was an inch away from retreating back to his room before Tony piped up again, his face oddly pale in the dim light. "Hey, what language are those runes?"

"Ancient Norse - a dialect from eons ago. Why?"

"So, there's no chance at all I should recognise them, right? Or understand them?"

The god frowned at him like he'd lost his mind, shaking his head slowly. "Even Thor cannot. Only a handful of sorcerers still can."

Tony nodded in return, looking very much as though he was reaching for a calm that was rapidly eluding him. Eventually, in a very soft voice, he asked: "Then why is it I can read what they're saying?"

Loki was entirely stunned for all of a moment before he was rolling up both sleeves and practically shoving his arms towards Tony. "What can you read?" He demanded. "Tell me."

The engineer hesitated, trailing a finger through the air just above the runes as he stared at them in something like wonder. "The one who bears these marks shall be sheltered," he murmured. He frowned at the next few markings, shaking his head. "This bit I don't get. Then it says... This being cannot be reached by harmful blows or spells, and they will not feel the weight of torment. So it is written and so it will be." His hand dropped away as he reached the end at the crease of Loki's right elbow, looking up to meet the trickster's wide, green eyes.

"That's not possible," the god muttered, brain scrambling for an explanation. "This shouldn't be possible. It took me over a century to learn these runes - they haven't been seen on Midgard since before your ancestors' ancestors."

Suddenly Tony straightened, his mind kicking into gear at long last. "Oh god, I think I know what's going on. You're not going to like it."

"I don't like the fact you can read them at all, but such things are not always within my control," Loki grumbled quietly.

"You know that vision I saw? When I grabbed your arm? It did... something. I might have seen a couple of your memories in there, felt some of what you were feeling. Maybe I saw more than I thought. I didn't notice before but if I concentrate I can see a library where the books are all in a language I don't know. Or shouldn't know, at least."

Loki was still caught between surprise, anger and a strange feeling of violation, as though his soul had been dragged out for examination. "The Grand Library in Asgard? Is that what you saw?" His voice was vibrating with emotion.

"I couldn't tell you. There's not a location attached to the memory and the windows are too high up to see out of."

"Describe it."

"Err, it's... beautiful. The walls are covered in bookshelves, high enough that I can barely see the ceiling and there's sunlight pouring into every corner of the room." Somewhere in his mind Tony knew that the reverence he felt for the place was not his own but it was hard to distinguish the feeling. "There are tables but no one's there. It looks like no one has been here in years, everything is dusty except... there's a table in the corner that's covered in paper. I've never seen it before but it feels almost like..."

"Home," Loki finished for him, green eyes slipping closed as he slammed a lid on the memories that threatened to pour forth. "That is my memory."

"I'm sorry?" Tony looked like he was expecting Loki to tear his head from his shoulders at any moment - probably logical after everything that had happened. "I didn't mean to do it, whatever it was."

"I know," he surprised himself by saying. "Is there anything else you can remember?" He had to know what had been taken from him.

"I don't know. It's hard. It's like trying to remember something you've never seen before." There was a pause. "Probably because that's exactly what this is. Christ, my life is weird. Say something in Asgardian."

"Minn nafn Lokir."

"Come on, I could translate that without your memories. Give me a challenge at least."

Loki glared at him. "Ek þróask móðr ór sási leikr, heimskr barn."

"You were the one that asked. Apparently I can understand that too." Tony was swaying on his feet very slightly, feeling just a little shell shocked. "I think that's the fastest anyone has learned a new language."

"It was not yours to take," Loki growled.

The engineer stepped backwards, holding his hands up in a placating gesture. "Look, I'm sorry. I didn't mean for this to happen. I'd undo it if I could."

"I can take the memories back if you'll open your mind to me. Somehow I doubt that your remorse is great enough to allow me that much trust, however." He was smiling knowingly but there was no happiness in the expression, just deep bitterness that he was making no attempt to hide. Tony wanted to prove him wrong just to wipe that smile away but the problem was... Loki was right. He didn't trust him enough for that.

"I... I need to tell the others about this. Steve's already sure I'm keeping secrets - I can't give him more ammunition."

Loki knew that he was right but he still recoiled at the thought of this weapon being in enemy hands. Who knew what Tony had taken from his mind, however unwittingly? He might have the strength to destroy him with whatever memories he had seen and Loki would have no way of knowing where the killer blow would strike. "This will be used against me one day, will it not? Once Thanos is destroyed, you will use it to control me."

Tony opened his mouth to reply but the words never came. Before even a single syllable could pass his lips there was a muffled boom sound and then the room was blasting apart in roar.

It wasn't the first time Tony had woken up to the taste of ash in his mouth or the ringing in his ears that signified he'd been blown up. It wasn't even the second or the third. He'd stopped counting after the sixth. This was, however, the first time he'd been shaken awake by a pale demigod looming over him, his face coated in dust and grime, brow creased in something like concern.

"Stark? Can you hear me?" He could, though the words were muffled by whatever damage had been done to his eardrums by the blast.

"Urghh," was all he was able to get out, face scrunching in discomfort. His chest felt too tight, there was something wrong with his legs and every muscle he had was aching but he tried to blink awake.

"Eloquent," Loki observed wryly, but there was relief in his eyes when he looked down at Tony.

Slightly more aware now, the engineer was actually able to take a good look at the god. He looked wrecked. There were bags under his eyes that made it seem as though he hadn't slept in months and there was a very slight tremble in his frame that shouldn't be there, not to mention the eyes that were squinting so badly he could barely see a hint of green. How long had he been out?

"What...?" He coughed as his throat scratched painfully.

"If I had to venture a guess, I'd say that Fisk got tired of playing games with you," Loki told him calmly. "You have spent the last ten minutes dying."

That woke him up. "Wha-" He tried to sit up but his arms couldn't take his weight and his legs felt trapped, out of his control. Loki forced him back down.

"Calm yourself," he ordered. "I've healed the worst of it. I'd do more but I've already used up too much magic today. Now, I need you to focus. Your legs are pinned down - I can lift the debris off you but I need you to pull yourself from under it. Can you do that?"

Tony thought about questioning why Loki wasn't hauling ass out of there and leaving him but decided he was far too tired for that kind of reasoning, so instead he just flexed out his arms to try and get them working properly before nodding. "I think so."

Loki's head moved out of his vision towards his legs. There was a moment's pause before the god grunted slightly and Tony felt the pressure on his legs vanish. It was hard, trying to pull himself backwards when every inch of his body lit up with pain but he gritted his teeth and kept moving even while trying to fight back the nausea pooling in his throat. He dropped to the ground again as soon as he was clear.

"Your leg is broken." There was a hum of consideration then a bizarre tingling spread through his left calf. He tried to pull away but long fingers wrapped around his knee and pinned him down, clenching more tightly as his struggles intensified. "This is delicate work Stark, hold still." Of course that was when the tingling became full on agony as the broken bones shifted back into their correct orientations - Tony let out a strangled cry but Loki didn't let his leg move an inch.

"Ahh," he panted once the pain had subsided. "Warn a guy, why don't you."

"My way is more fun," Loki told him idly, rising to his feet in a motion that made Tony's head hurt just watching. "But now you are free we must leave this place. I don't know how stable it is now that most of the floor is missing."

The comment drew Tony's attention to the rest of the room for the first time, eyes skating over the complete disarray with a sense of loss catching at his heart. He'd rebuilt this tower too many times already. All the windows were gone, along with the balcony and a considerable chunk of the floor on that side of the room. Tony had somehow ended up underneath the massive marble that usually acted as the bar and- Wait. Loki had lifted that off him? It must have weighed over a tonne.

"Jesus," was his only response. "Just how strong are you exactly?"

"You really want to do this now?" To emphasise his point there was a crunching sound somewhere below them as a support gave way and the floor shifted ever so slightly.

"Right, time to go. Wait." A thought struck him suddenly. "Jarvis? Can you hear me buddy?"

The air filled with static as Loki helped haul him to his feet, grabbing at his shoulders to keep him upright when his vision went dim and his head swam. "I ca-bzzz-ere-bzzz-wha-bzzz-pened-bzzz." The words trailed off into more static before shutting off entirely.

"Damn it," Tony cursed, turning to Loki in slight desperation. "Can you tell if the others are alright?"

Loki raised an eyebrow. "How do you propose I do that? I haven't left this room since the explosion. I can't teleport since I used up so much of my magic trying to stop you from bleeding to death. I'm not actually psychic."

When Tony looked down at himself he was only half surprised to note that the whole of his chest was practically dripping blood - it should probably have alarmed him more than it did. "You healed me?"

"A metal cable punctured your chest. When I found you, you were choking on your own blood."

"Glad I don't remember that. But it doesn't matter now - we need to find the others and get the hell out of here. I'm going to assume the lower levels are more stable since this seems to be the epicentre."

"You're still not fully healed Stark, I can only do so much. Your priority should be getting out of here and to a healer."

"Doctor," Tony corrected, already limping towards the stairway. "We call them doctors on Midgard. Earth, damn it. And I'll be alright. I'm not drowning in my own blood at least - the others might not be so lucky."

Loki followed him with far more ease, apparently uninjured, the dick. "If it sets your mind at rest, I am fairly sure Thor is not in dire need of saving."

"Even if he was, would you care?" Loki didn't answer, hiding his emotions behind a blank mask that Tony couldn't read. Maybe he was offended. "And to be perfectly honest, Thor wasn't highest on my list of priorities. If you can just walk away from that then I'm fairly sure he'll be doing alright."

"It would have hurt me before. You know why it did not," Loki pointed out, entirely unhelpfully.

Tony thought for a moment as they made their way down the stairs. They were littered with debris but were solid underfoot which the engineer was grateful for. "The runes," he realised eventually. "'Cannot be reached by harmful blows' wasn't it? So what, you're just immune to damage?"

"Not permanently. Every time the wards deflect a blow it saps my magic to power it - it's why I'm so drained. The reason Thor was so worried was that the runes can technically kill me if they try and protect me from too severe a blow and drain me completely." Loki didn't sound overly concerned at the prospect.

The engineer didn't have a response to that as he concentrated on scrambling over a mass of concrete from where the floor above had caved in. He caught his palm on a sharp edge, hissing when blood welled against the grimy skin.

"Damn it," he cursed, clenching his fist tightly, fighting back the pain. Compared to the pounding of the rest of his body it wasn't all that bad.

"Is there no end to your frailty?" Loki asked snidely but there was a tingling in Tony's palm and when he looked down again the wound was gone, leaving only the bloodstain behind.

"Err thanks," he said in surprise, watching the way the god swayed in concern. "But maybe you should save that magic of yours. You're not looking great there buddy."

Loki looked very much like he wanted to glare but couldn't summon the energy. Instead he brushed past Stark with as much dignity as he could muster and stepped out of the stairwell onto the floor below. It wasn't looking any better than the main room upstairs, with rubble everywhere and the air thick with dust that had started to settle like a second skin.

"Bruce's room is on this floor," Tony said quietly, suddenly looking pale. "We haven't heard the Other Guy..."

"Is that not a blessing?"

"I'm not sure. Come on. He might be down in the lab but we have to check his room first."

Despite the rib aching sigh he gave, Loki followed him as he slowly made his way across the room. Surveying the damage was not promising - the walls still looked stable enough but it was still millions of dollars that had gone up in smoke. Fisk was a dead man.

Tony frowned back at the god when the silence stretched. "Your spidey-senses tingling?"

"My what?"

He rolled his eyes. "Danger radar. Any alarm bells going off in that head of yours?"

Loki frowned at him like he was the crazy one. "Midgard is the strangest realm I've ever come across."

There wasn't time to reply to that as they arrived at the door to Bruce's room, the wood shattered when the doorframe had caved in on one side. There was a small space, no wider than a foot that Tony could just about squeeze through. "Bruce, buddy? You in here?" The silence pounded at him. "Big guy?"

"Stark, it is unwise to linger here," Loki called from outside the doorway.

"If you're that worried, just teleport on out of here. I've got this." Truth be told, he was actually feeling better for Loki's company - probably something to do with the way the god seemed able to heal pretty much any injury he managed to do to himself, as well as lifting immense weights when he was trapped. It was a nifty trick.

"Have you listened to a word I've said?" Loki asked in sudden irritation. "My magic is pathetically drained. I could teleport no further than to the other side of this room."

"So, how does that work?" Tony questioned as he pulled himself back out of the door, turning towards the stairs again. "The more power you have, the further you can go?"

The god sighed gently. "It's not about distance, more like speed actually. While it might seem like instant transportation, it does actually take some time; crossing between realms can take minutes even. How long I can remain demolecularised is dependent on how much energy I have and my own speed then determines the distance. I have spent many centuries learning to move as fast as possible."

"So it's not just that you disappear here and reappear there?" Tony asked, interest piqued. "You have to control what happens in between?"

"Of course. You thought I just imagined myself someplace and then it happened?"

"Kinda, yeah. Look, I'm a genius but you're... not human." Loki scoffed lightly but Tony ignored him. "What's it like? When you're not here or there. What's in between?"

"The Tree."

"Yggdr-whatsit?"

"Yggdrasil. When I travel within one realm it happens so quickly that I don't really have the chance to look around me. But crossing from one to the other... I race along the branches and I can see all the realms spread out before me like a map and everything I see glows with life. That is what the tree is: life. To feel it beneath your feet is the most profound experience I have ever encountered."

"You sound awed."

"I am."

Conversation ended there as they reached the next floor down and there was suddenly a burst of static that had Tony flinching heavily before he rallied. "Jarvis?"

"Sir," he answered after some more buzzing. The line was heavy with interference but it was understandable.

"I need to know where the others are J. Can you give me locations? Status reports? Tell me you have something."

"I have no functions on the top two floors and am limited for the next three down. Below that I am fully functional." That meant the lab was alright, thank heavens. "Doctor Banner and Miss Romanov are both below the danger zone. Master Odinson is uninjured and is currently seeing to Captain Rogers."

"What happened to him?" Worry flared in Tony's stomach, aching and cold.

"I believe he was hit with some debris in the blast but I am assured that the damage is neither permanent nor life threatening. They intend to try and get to the lower levels momentarily."

"And Clint? Where's he?"

"I do not know Sir. I believe him to be in one of the areas where my functions are compromised. The last record I have states him to be on the floor below you."

Tony swore colourfully in French, spinning towards the stairs again, staggering when his concussion vehemently protested the motion and sent his vision dark. Loki snatched his arm to keep him upright. The vague protectiveness from the god was frankly bizarre but Tony really didn't have the brain space to worry about that now so he just put it down to Loki feeling a little weary.

It took far longer than it should have done to reach the room Clint was in, Tony's body growing wearier by the minute. Loki had muttered something about healing being exhausting for both parties just like it had been for Pepper but the engineer was barely listening, thoughts stuck on the archer. The human archer. Ok, Clint could fire an arrow with far more accuracy than anyone else on the planet and in hand to hand combat he was a total ninja but he was still human. Regular human skin and bones that could break, tear and crumble.

"Clint!" He shouted, trying to see around all the scattered furniture and debris but finding no sign of the archer.

"I can smell blood," Loki murmured quietly. Tony wanted to ask about that because 'smell blood?' Honestly? But now wasn't the time for such things.

"Where?"

He pointed. "That way I think."

When Tony finally laid eyes on Clint he almost threw up there and then. Half buried by rubble, only an arm, his head and part of his chest were visible and all three were covered in red. It seeped from under the stones and soaked into the ruined carpet like paint, only much more horrifying. But what caught the engineer's attention more than anything was that the archer wasn't breathing.

Norse translations (first time I've had to do this):

1. My name (is) Loki.

2. I grow weary of this game, foolish child.

I know nothing of Norse, alright? I've never studied it or anything like that, so this all came from online translators. I have no clue as to how accurate it is.

This chapter was weird. I made some spur of the moment decisions. Please note that it has not yet been beta'd since I only finished writing it a few days ago and she's not had time to go over it yet. I just wanted to get it to you guys for tomorrow.

Edit: Now beta'd, many thanks to Daughter-of-Dreams. Next chapter should be out soon.