Disclaimer: I don't own Avengers or anything else that is recognizable.
A/N: Thank you for all the lovely reviews. Hmm. This chapter was hard and I had to listen to countless sad songs to get the right tone in my head for most of this. 'The Price of Freedom' by Takeharu Ishimoto (also where the chapter title came from. Awesome instrumental.) 'My Immortal' by Evanescence, 'Pearl of the Stars' by Coheed and Cambria, 'Say Goodnight' by Bullet For My Valentine, 'Funeral of Hearts' by HIM, 'Leave Out All the Rest' by Linkin Park, 'Dead Flowers' and 'Carry Me Down' by Demon Hunter, 'Another Hero Lost' by Shadows Fall... and many others. Any of these songs would fit this chapter. Give them a listen, they are all good songs. I'm not sure if I was able to keep everyone in character, but I did try. Now, Enjoy!
Redemption
by
I Am Atrocity
Chapter XXI: The Price of Freedom
'I'd never leave you, but fate has come to silence me. Darkness is all that I see. I cannot reach you, and soon the earth will cover me. It's become so hard to breathe. Forever is waiting. The final steps you're taking will soon be buried in the sand. All the battles they say we won, they leave another thousand lives undone. Forever is waiting. The final steps you're taking will soon be buried in the sand. You're gone but not forgot. Another Hero Lost. The sorrow builds with every passing. All the lessons that you taught and all the light you brought lives on in the eyes of your son.'
-Another Hero Lost by Shadows Fall.
His hand twitched where it lay amidst the long, green grass. He turned his head to one side, a soft, near inaudible, moan escaping passed his lips.
"You two go that way."
He tossed his head to the other side as his breath quickened, and he moaned again; it was a soft, pitifully distressed sound that he would have never willingly allowed himself to make.
"We shouldn't split up..."
He muttered under his breath, trying desperately to catch his breath as his throat tightened and his tongue went dry. He felt cold, and afraid; the cold, he was used to, the fear was as well, but he refused to show it. But now, he was at the mercy of it.
"It's the bomb, isn't it?"
A low growl rumbled deep in his chest and his fist tightened. He shook his head, desperately trying to fight through the fog of fear that had surrounded him and made him a slave to his own mind.
"W-what do y-you mean?"
He tried to open his eyes, but found that they refused to respond to his wishes. He tried his hands, and felt his fear increase when they did not so much as twitch. What was wrong with him? Why couldn't he move? What was going on?
The transmitter is broken. It must have happened some time during our fight...One of us will have to detonate it manually."
He willed his body to obey him, but no matter how hard he tried, his muscles and nerves would not budge.
"No."
He wanted to scream, but even his lungs had forsaken him, his breathing now coming out in short, pained gasps and whimpers.
"Why does it have to be you?"
His heartbeat filled his ears, the pace faster than it had ever been. The fear in his chest continued to increase, and his throat began to tighten even further. In his frantic state, he involuntarily wanted to reach up and clutch at his throat, willing it to open and let the precious, oxygen-filled air to enter his burning lungs.
"...I am the only one that has any chance of surviving..."
In his clouded mind, he could only think one thing: that he was going to die. He fought harder, not willing to give up so easily. He clung fiercely to his will to live and tried to push through his fear.
"Please, be safe, and come back. Please..."
He didn't know where he was, or why he was afraid, all he knew was that he had to get out of there. He could not die, not yet. He just couldn't. Why couldn't he? What was holding him back?
"I promise..."
He struggled further through the mist in his mind, a faint whisper echoing around him. He had promised? Why? How could he promise such a thing, when he was sure that he would not be able to keep it? The fear was receding a bit, as he willed himself back to reality. Who had he promised? He pressed on.
"...Natasha."
That name, he knew it. Unwilled, a warm feeling began to well up in his chest, helping to stave off the suffocating fear that had plagued him.
"Natasha..."
He was graced with the image of a beautiful red-haired young woman, with sparkling green eyes, a smile on her face as she looked up at him. The warm feeling grew, and the fog receded even further.
"Natasha..."
The fog faded entirely as the warmth reached a peak, his body feeling as though it were laying under the blazing rays of the shining sun.
"Natasha!"
His eyes snapped open with a gasp and he shot bolt upright. He gasped again as the light stung his eyes a bit. He looked around, seeing the green grass spreading out on all sides of him. He squinted as his eyes adjusted to the light of the sun, shining high overhead. He had seen this place before, having caught just a short glimpse of it before darkness took him again.
He slowly rose to his feet and looked down at himself. His leather Asgardian garb was torn and burned in places, but the skin underneath was clear and undamaged. Curiously, he ran the tips of his fingers over the skin exposed by a hole on the chest of his shirt. It was soft and smooth to the touch.
He frowned in confusion. "How...?"
He thought back over everything that had happened just before he had lost consciousness the first time. He had boarded the Space Throne with Clint and Natasha, then they had been captured. He remembered that before that, one of their bombs had been broken. Then they had fought the Other, and Natasha had killed him. During that fight, the remote detonator had been damaged and he had elected to stay behind and set it off manually. He remembered kissing Natasha before they parted ways. A smile came to his face as he reached up and lightly ran his fingers over his lips as he remembered what he had felt at that moment. He could still taste her. He shook his head and forced himself to focus on what happened next. He had gone to the engine room, killing a Chitauri there. He looked around him, searching for his Scepter. He sighed, remembering that he had not removed it from the Chitauri's body after killing it. He remembered arming the bomb and pressing the black button. Then it was all dark.
He frowned and shook his head slowly. No, that was not all. He remembered a cold feeling enveloping him just before the flames had licked at his flesh hungrily. But he had never felt the heat of the flames, only cold. Like ice.
He closed his eyes and sighed deeply, feeling lost. He had an idea of what had happened to him, but did not know how to feel about it. The only conclusion that he could come to was that his Jotunn blood had shielded him, somehow. As far as he knew, Frost Giants were vulnerable to heat and flames, not immune to them. But his magic could protect him from fire. So, he assumed, his Jotunn power had worked together with his magic to protect him from harm, without his will, as if by instinct.
He looked down at his hands, which were their normal pale hue. He wondered what he would feel if he had seen blue skin instead. He sighed again and let a small smile come to his face. He decided to feel grateful. His Jotunn blood had saved him, and he could see no reason to be upset over that, no matter how much he did not wish to acknowledge that part of him. But that was just it, it was part of him, and he decided that he had better accept that and move on. Yes, he was grateful. It had enabled him to keep his promise to Natasha. He sent a silent thanks to the cold power that dwelt deep inside his being, almost as though it were a separate being itself.
Thinking of his promise, he looked around, trying to determine where he was. He needed to get back to New York, so that he could keep his promise. He spun in a slow circle, looking for anything that appeared familiar. There was nothing, just green fields and a thick patch of trees behind him.
He looked back to the direction he had been facing upon awakening. No landmarks to indicate where he was. He turned to face the trees. He scanned them, and realized that they weren't as thick as he had first thought, just positioned closely together.
He walked toward them, and stepped under their branches. He swiftly and agilely maneuvered through the underbrush. When he came out the other side, he breathed a sigh of relief. He could see the skyline of New York on the horizon, the sun glistening off the glass and concrete.
He focused inward and felt for his magic, feeling it there inside, weakened from overuse. It would be a short while before he was back to full strength again. He sighed and began to walk. It would take him most of the day to get back if he kept a steady pace and did not stop for breaks. He set his eyes forward with determination and began the long trek back to the city, and back to her.
XXXX
Thor grunted as he hefted the final log up onto the top of the already-large pile. He took and step back, absent-mindedly brushing his hands off. It was a large pile, taller than he was, and tonight, he would burn it in his brother's honor. He would have rather have built a great ship for Loki, but he did not have the time.
He heaved a sigh, and turned away from the pyre and made his way down to the balcony of Stark Tower. Tony had decided that Loki's pyre would be on the topmost point of his Tower, where it could be seen for miles around. Thor was grateful for this; at least Loki would be properly honored, like the Prince and hero he was.
He wished that he could have orchestrated a proper funeral for his brother, like his younger brother Balder had had. The ship, the gifts, all of it. But, perhaps Loki would have prefered it this way...
He entered the lounge through the balcony door. Tony was standing behind the bar, a glass and a half empty bottle on the counter in front of him. Thor made his way over to him and took at the bar. Tony pulled out a second glass and poured the dark amber liquid into it. Thor took up the glass with a nod of thanks and took a large swig of the liquor. He grimaced slightly as it burned his throat, wondering why mortals would want such a distasteful beverage. He would have prefered some Mead or Asgardian Wine, but alas, there was none on hand.
"You all done up there?" Tony asked, nodding upward, indicating the roof.
Thor nodded and took another swig from his glass. "All that is required it the oil and an offering. I will not have my brother be left with nothing, even in the afterlife."
Tony nodded and refilled his own glass, then Thor's as the Asgardian drained the last of the whiskey. "What did you have in mind?"
Thor sighed and shook his head. "Balder had his ship, Skidbladnir, gold, weapons, tools, his mighty steed and his beloved wife Nanna, who lost her will to live and died on the eve of his funeral." He grew silent, lost in thought.
Tony frowned. "We have none of those things here. No horse, no gold. And, while she isn't his wife, I very much doubt that Natasha would appreciate it if we tried to burn her." He had small joking smile on his face, but it didn't reach his eyes.
Thor frowned, letting Tony know that his small attempt at humor had not been effective. "No, we have nothing to offer him. He will go to Valhalla as a pauper, not as the Prince of Asgard, nor as a hero of Midgard. Just Loki, the unsung." He looked down sadly, regret once more gripping his heart. It had been only yesterday when they had found the Scepter, undamaged within the ruins of the Space Throne, and he had still not come to terms with the hard truth. He was taking the loss of his dear brother hard, harder than most. Odin had been comforting an inconsolable Frigga since they had returned, bearing naught but ill tidings. The Warriors Three, whom Loki had called friends, continued as normal, except for the diminished spark in their eyes. Sif was simply angry, and snapped at any unfortunate soul that dared approach her.
Tony seemed to have spent most of his time in the bar, drinking whatever was in reach. Thor knew that the billionaire had warmed to Loki fairly well, once it had been determined that he wasn't going to try to kill them all, and had come to think of him as a friend. Steve and Banner were the least effected of the Avengers, not having been particularly close to the Trickster.
Clint took the discovery in silence, neither showing sadness nor joy at Loki's loss. He had seemed to be a bit more withdrawn since returning to the Tower though, and Thor wonder if, just maybe, he regretted the way he had treated Loki during his time here on Earth.
But, if there was one person who was taking the loss even harder than Thor, it was Natasha. She had cried all the way back to Stark Tower, clutching the Scepter to her breast desperately. She had been locked up in Loki's room ever since, and had yet to venture out for anything. Tony and Clint had both tried to check up on her, but she had ignored them, refusing to open the door. Tony could have opened it, seeing as he had spare keys for every door in the building locked up in his office, but had opted to respect her wishes and let her mourn in privacy.
Thor drained his glass of whiskey in one go and set the empty glass back down on the bar, where it was promptly refilled.
The door behind him opened and then closed as someone else entered the room. He heard the seat next to his slid out and then felt someone settle themselves onto it, laying their arms on the bar. He heard a soft sigh, the sound lighter than what he would have expected. He turned his head to find the young, red-haired assassin sitting there, her arms folded on the countertop in front of her, and her red-rimmed eyes cast downward. Her shoulders were slumped and she looked as though she had not slept at all the night before. He looked a bit closer at her eyes, seeing that the red was still clear and there was a light sheen under her eyes, indicating that she had just stopped crying.
It was strange to see the usually strong and composed woman reduced to such a state. He knew he wasn't much better, but he forced himself to hide it as well as he could. Natasha was making no such effort. He gave her a hollow smile and turned back to his drink. There was no harm in showing emotion, no matter what some would say. It was not a weakness, especially if one had just lost someone dear to them.
Tony gave a small smile as well and offered her a drink. She shook her head and simply sat there. A strange silence fell over them, making Thor and Tony uncomfortable. Before, when it had been just the two of them, it had been simple; they were men and knew how to deal with each other; there was an understanding. But now, with a grieving Natasha added to the mix, they had no idea how to proceed.
"Its tonight then?"
Both men jumped slightly at her voice, not having been expecting it. Both inwardly winced at how raw it sounded. Thor nodded. "At sundown." He looked out the windows. "Not long now."
Natasha nodded mutely, but said nothing. She looked upward, toward the roof, then stood up and walked out through the balcony door, disappearing up the stairs that led to the highest point of Stark Tower.
Tony watched her go, then turned back to Thor. "We may not have any of the things you mentioned, but Pepper and Jane ordered a large shipment of flowers from some of the shops around the city. We can burn those if you want."
Thor thought about it a moment, then nodded. "Anything is better than nothing."
Tony cocked his head and finished the last of the whiskey in the bottle. "I'll have them brought up then." He walked out from around the bar and stopped long enough to at Thor on the shoulder before leaving the God of Thunder alone with his thoughts.
XXXX
Natasha looked at the pyre, her face blank and dead. If wasn't much to look at, but she wasn't really seeing it. She wasn't really seeing anything around her, so absorbed in her own thoughts was she.
She had not slept well during the night, having cried herself to sleep, and her day had consisted of sitting on Loki's bed and staring at the wall, the Scepter in her lap, thinking over ever moment that she had spent with Loki since his arrival on Earth. Every moment that she cherished. What she wouldn't give to go back to any of those moments. Hell, she would even take when he had been locked in the cell aboard the Helicarrier, and been threatening and insulting her through the glass; at least he would be alive, even if he was her enemy at the time. Oddly enough, she cherished that memory as well, it being the first time they had spoken to each other face to face. She remembered how dangerous he had seemed, how deadly and fierce. Then the look of utter confusion on his face as she had turned the tables on him. Then the slight amusement and admiration as he realized what she had done. It brought the faintest ghost of a smile to her lips.
She remembered all of this now, as she stood atop Stark Tower, the cool evening breeze whipping through her hair. She stepped up to the pile of wood and laid her hand on it, feeling its rough texture under her fingers. She then walked around it and looked down over the edge of the building. She could see the street, far far below, and she could see the other, smaller, pyres dotting it. They were going to light those first, then Loki's.
She looked down for a moment longer, then stepped up on the edge of the building, swaying lightly in the wind. She looked out over the city, toward the setting sun, wondering where Loki was now. She had heard him mention Valhalla before, the place were warriors who fell in battle went, a place of honor amongst the gods and heroes. Surely that was where he was. Or so she hoped. He was a hero after all.
She swayed again as a particularly strong gust of wind blew past her, and she teetered on the edge for moment. She felt weightless, and a jolt of fear shot through her as she realized that she was falling. She reached out, her hands seeking anything to grab on to, to stop her descent. She hit only air.
Then pain shot through her arm as it was pulled back upward with great force. She gasped as she was unceremoniously dropped back onto the roof. She looked up to find an unhappy Thor looking down at her. She swallowed thickly, shrinking back under the glare that he was giving her. "What were you thinking?" he demanded, his voice even, but with a dangerous edge to it. "Well?"
She sighed, remembering that she had done nothing wrong. "I fell."
Thor was not amused. "I know that. But you didn't answer my question."
Natasha frowned and pushed herself to her feet. "It doesn't really matter at this point does it? But if you must know, I was wondering where Loki was now."
Thor nodded. "Did you want to fall?"
The question caught her off guard, but after her shock wore off, she thought about it. Did she want to fall? Did she want to die? No, she decided. She did not want to die. At least not that way. If she had fallen to her death, she would not go to Valhalla, like Loki surely had, thus she would not have seen him again. She looked up at Thor, who was awaiting her answer. "No."
Thor studied her for a moment, then nodded, seeming to find what he was looking for in her eyes. What he saw was the truth. She did not want to die. That was good. He did not think that Loki would have wanted her to meet her end like that. "Good." He looked her over. "You should go get ready, the sun will be down soon."
She nodded and he turned to leave. She spoke without meaning to. "Do you think he made it to Valhalla?"
Thor stopped and looked back over his shoulder at her. He was silent for a moment, then he nodded. "I do...or at least I hope he did."
Natasha looked back out at the setting sun and nodded, smiling sadly. "Me too."
XXXX
Thor and the Warriors Three arranged the last of the flowers on and around the pile of wood. Thor looked down at the soft white petals of the arrangement that he had just set down. They were truly beautiful flowers, and must have cost a small fortune, given that they were all real, not that strange paper-like material that he had seen used here in the mortal world; and there were a lot of them.
In the center of the flowers was a framed photo of Loki, brought by Fury and Coulson, who had taken the picture from some security footage at S.H.I.E.L.D. HQ. It showed Loki's face, smiling his wide, bright smile. It had been taken from some time during when he was kept in the glass cage built for the Hulk.
He looked at the photo, taking in the spark in his brother's eyes, and wondered when exactly this had been taken. In this picture, Loki looked to be truly having fun. He sighed and turned around to face those that had gathered on the rooftop to pay their respects to his brother.
There was Odin, standing with his arm around a sobbing Frigga. His father looked to have aged a hundred years in that moment. He looked tired and his eyes shone with sadness and regret. There was Sif, staring ahead boldly, her dark hair hanging down around her face in a soft, silky curtain; the hair that Loki had given her, that she had hated, now let down for all to see. Thor smiled, knowing that it was her way of honoring mischievous man that she had long scorned. There were the Warriors Three, dressed in their finest armor, each there to pay respect to a fellow warrior and friend.
Then there was Dr. Eric Selvig, who, strangely, did not hold any resentment toward Loki for having put him under his control and using him. Thor had asked him about this, and the older man had simply shrugged and said, "I cannot hold a grudge toward him for doing something that was in his nature." Thor looked at the aging man and realized just how wise he was.
Standing next to Selvig was Jane, his beloved Jane. She had not known Loki for long, and thus his loss was not so hard on her. But he was Thor's brother, and she knew the pain that Thor felt, and sought only to offer her support and any comfort he may need. He was grateful that she had stuck by him for so long, unwavering.
Steve was as composed as ever, standing straight and proper, his head tilted upward. His eyes were hooded, betraying the heaviness of the atmosphere around him. As a soldier, he had seen much death in his lifetime, and losing men was a common thing in the military. Perhaps he had become immune to it by now. Thor envied him for how unaffected he seemed to be.
Fury, standing tall next to Steve, appeared even more grim than usual as his one eye looked at the pyre. Beside him was Coulson and Maria Hill, the former frowning and the latter straight-faced and calm. Thor had no idea what could be going through their heads at this moment, but he couldn't help but wonder if any of them were here to honor his brother, or simply out of respect for him. He opted to believe that it was the first of those, that they were here to honor Loki for his sacrifice.
Banner stood, arms crossed, a little off to the side, his face contorted in a deep frown as he looked up at the ever-darkening sky above them. Thor could not even begin to understand the thoughts that went through Banner's head, perhaps only Tony could accomplish that task. After a moment, the good doctor turned hi eyes down to the pyre, then to Thor. He gave him a small nod, a silent offer of support. Thor nodded back with a small smile.
Tony stood with Pepper, his arm around her shoulders. He met Thor's eyes, and then turned back to looking at the photo amongst the flowers, silently saying goodbye to the man whom he had come to consider a friend. Thor knew that his friend's heart was heavy without having to look very hard. Tony wasn't that great at hiding his emotions.
Clint Barton had his head bowed, his hands clasped in front of him, not in prayer, simply to keep them from shaking. He felt that he had failed somehow. Loki had been a member of his team, and he believed that it had been his responsibility to get them all out alive. He had not done so and was all to willing to let Loki take the fall. He knew he was being selfish, due to his jealously of the attention that Natasha paid to the Trickster, and now he was filled with guilt. He looked sideways at the redhead that stood a few feet away, and felt his guilt spike as he took in her red-rimmed eyes and generally broken appearance. He wanted to comfort her, but did not know how. And he didn't think that it would be all that welcome, coming from him, especially after the way he had acted toward her, and Loki, in the recent past. He looked over to where Thor was, to find the Thunder God looking back at him. Clint lowered his eyes once more, unable to hold Thor's gaze as his stomach churned with guilt once again.
Thor let his eyes land on the last person present: Natasha. He could tell that she had been crying again, but was trying to put on a brave front. He could see her struggling to keep her emotions at bay, and he could see her mask breaking. He knew that she would soon break down again.
He took a deep breath, preparing himself for the speech he was to give. He had opted to say a few words before the lighting of the pyres. Tony had offered, but Thor, after thanking him, had said that he would like to do the honor. It was his brother after all. He tightened his hold on Mjolnir and began to speak. "Thank you all for coming." He swallowed as everyone turned their eyes to him, giving him their full attention. "I'll be honest, I do not know the proper words to say, nor do I know what words, if any, could heal the wounds left on our hearts." He looked at his father and mother, then to Natasha before continuing. "I suppose I could tell you stories of Loki, about his endless schemes and the constant mischief he wrought, but those stories would have been better told by the man himself, as I do not have the skill with words that my brother did." He took a deep breath. "Those stories are also the only thing that many know of Loki. None but a select few had the pleasure to know the real Loki. He was a kind and gentle man, underneath all of the scorn and anger that he surrounded himself with; his shield, his mask. If you asked any Asgardian if Loki was the type to lay down his own life for someone else, they would say 'No. Loki cares only for himself.' He proved them all wrong when he did just that, so that we may all live on to see another day." He stopped a moment, to clear his throat and blink back the tears that had begun to gather in his eyes as he spoke of his brother. "My brother was the bravest and strongest man I ever had the honor to know. He was, without a doubt, the best man I have ever know. He, along with all of those brave souls that fell, gave their blood, their sweat and their tears for us. They all gave their last breath so that we could live free of tyranny." He gestured out to the pyres burning on the street below them. "What you see before you, is what I have found to be the price of freedom. Pain, loss and death. That is the price of freedom, and all of them willingly paid that price." He lifted Mjolnir above his head and shouted, "Hail the victorious dead!"
"HAIL!" The voices of Sif, the Warriors Three, Frigga and Odin rung out through the night. Softer, quieter, 'Hail!'s followed as the rest of those present followed their example. Thor closed his eyes and poured his power into Mjolnir, calling down the lightning from the heavens. Thunder rumbled overhead, then a single bolt of lightning arched down, striking the pile of wood and flowers behind him, setting the pyre to blaze. He looked at the faces of those gathered, seeing the firelight bounce off of their profiles. He could see the light reflecting off the tears that were now streaming down Natasha's face and turned away.
He lowered his arm and let it fall to his side as the tears finally began to fall.
"That's a pity. They were such nice flowers."
He heard a soft gasp that sounded like Natasha and opened his eyes. He looked at her, wondering what was wrong. He was about to ask, but his words died on his lips. There was a tall, dark figure standing behind her, the firelight illuminating his pale skin. He was looking down at the woman in front of him, having fallen silent after his initial comment.
Natasha turned around slowly, her eyes going up, seeking confirmation for what she thought she had heard. "Loki?"
XXXX
Loki stopped, seeing a fire burning on the street up ahead of him, just outside Stark Tower. He frowned and picked up his pace, now running toward the building. He came to a stop a short distance from the fire and looked around, seeing several more fires burning, all in neat rows down the streets. Beyond them, he could see people gathered, watching the fires burn.
Curiously, he took a closer look at the fire in front of him. He could just make out something amongst the flames. It resembled a person. A moment later, realization dawned in his mind. These were funeral pyres.
From the looks of them, they had just been lit. He wondered if they had made one for him. After all, no one knew that he was still alive. He walked between the pyres and into the crowd of people that he now realized were Asgardians. He stepped up to one of the people, making sure to stay in the shadows a bit. "Where is Prince Thor?"
The Asgardian, a woman, turned her head slightly toward him, but did not take her eyes off the pyre in front of her. "He and the King and Queen are on the roof, preparing the pyre of Prince Loki," she said simply, as though he should already know.
Loki nodded to himself and looked up to the building beyond behind him and set his eyes to the balcony. He focused his power and imagined himself up there. He knew he didn't have much energy left, but he felt that he could risk it, this time.
He let his magic flow through him and sighed as his body became intangible and weightless. He closed his eyes, the image of the balcony clear in his mind. When he opened them, he was standing far above the street, and he was breathing heavily. He had used a bit more magic than anticipated, but at least he was still standing.
He looked around, seeing no one and frowned. Then he heard a voice, deep and resonating. It sounded like Thor. He looked upward, trying to discern where the voice was coming from. It took a moment, but he finally settled on the roof. So, it has already begun.
He started up the stairs that circled the building, and emerged onto the highest-most point of the Tower. He stepped out onto the roof, no one noticing him, all of their attention on Thor as he spoke, his voice thick with emotion. "I suppose I could tell you stories of Loki, about his endless schemes and the constant mischief he wrought..."
Loki stopped walking and looked to his brother, who continued to speak, oblivious to the arrival of his newest audience member. Loki stayed back, so as not to be noticed. His eyes roamed the rooftop, counting in his head all those that had shown up for his funeral. Odin and Frigga, Sif, Fandral, Volstagg and Hogun. Eric Selvig and Jane Foster. Fury, Coulson and Hill. Tony, Pepper Potts, Steve, Banner and Clint. And finally, Natasha. She stood just in front of him, her shoulders slumped and shaking slightly as she listened to Thor's kind and heartfelt words. He felt the urge to go forward and comfort her, but suppressed it.
"My brother was the bravest and strongest man I ever had the honor to know. He was, without a doubt, the best man I have ever know."
He swallowed thickly, hearing these words, and the pure, raw emotion behind them. He looked again at the grief-stricken face of his brother, then at the shaking form of Natasha and felt his heart constrict. He had never expected anyone to care for him as these two did.
He looked passed them, to the large pyre that had been built for him and he felt his heart constrict again. It wasn't much, there was no gold, no weapons, no treasures of any material sort. But it was piled high with flowers of every variety, all blending together like the colors of a beautiful painting. And, in the middle, there was a picture of him, smiling out at them all with bright eyes.
He stood listening to the rest of Thor's speech in silence.
"Hail the victorious dead!"
"HAIL!"
"Hail," he whispered to himself, thinking of the pyres burning far below them. He heard those that were unfamiliar with Asgardian funerals give quiet 'Hail!'s after the the others. He barely caught Natasha's, so quiet was it, but the sound of her broken whisper cut through him like a knife, and he again felt the urge to go to her well up within him.
He was stopped by the sound of thunder and the crack of lightning. Suddenly the pyre was engulfed in flames. In the silence that followed, he decided to speak. "That's a pity. They wer such nice flowers." As he said this, he walked up to stand behind Natasha, just short of touching her. He heard her gasp and saw her go completely still. He looked down at her as she turned to face him, her eyes seeking his in the dark.
"Loki?" she asked in a soft, near inaudible voice.
He nodded mutely, unsure of what to say. What does one say when coming back from the dead? Figuratively speaking. He smiled down at her instead. In the next instant, his head snapped to the side and his cheek flared with pain. He stood, shocked, for a moment, then tentatively reached up to rub his cheek where she had slapped him. The pain was already beginning to fade. He looked down at her again, seeing the fresh tears streaming down her face as she looked up at him, the edges of her lips tilting upward in a smile. He was confused by this, but did not have long to dwell on it as she threw herself at him, her arms going around his body and her face buried in his chest as she shook with silent sobs. Unsure of how else to react, Loki placed his own arms around her and returned her embrace.
He looked over her head at Thor, who was staring at him as though he had seen a ghost. He gave a small smirk, seeing his brother struck speechless, given that Thor wasn't normally the type to stay quiet. He could feel everyone's eyes on him, but he ignored them.
He turned his gaze back down to Natasha when he felt her grip on him tighten. "I-I thought you were dead. I thought...that I'd never see you again." Her voice was somewhat muffled, but he heard every word clearly, each syllable like a white-hot spike through his heart.
He tightened his own arms around her and leaned his head down beside hers. "I know. I'm sorry." He knew it wasn't a sufficient response, but she seemed to accept it. After a moment, he spoke again. "But I'm here now. I came back...just like I promised."
She nodded into his chest, a smile forming fully on her lips. They both stood in silence until her sobs died down and the tears stopped flowing. She stepped back from him, wiping her eyes with her hand. "Sorry," she muttered, seeing the wet patch on his clothing where her face had been.
Loki shook his head. "It's alright."
He felt a hand land on his shoulder and turned to find Thor next to him. "Hello, Thor." He lowered one of his hands from where they had come to rest on Natasha's waist and reached up to clasp his hand on Thor's. Natasha moved so that she was standing beside Loki, her hand moving down to hold the one that Loki still hand on her waist.
"How?" Thor asked, his voice disbelieving.
"How what?" Loki asked back, feigning ignorance.
"How are you still alive?" Thor clarified.
Loki's smile slipped a bit. "Oh, that."
"Yes that," Thor agreed.
Tony stepped toward them and raised a hand. "I confess that I, myself, would like to know this. And I'm sure everyone else wants to as well." There were nods all around.
Loki looked down for a moment, catching sight of Natasha watching him curiously, her eyes wide and searching. He sighed. "To be completely honest, I do not know."
"What do you mean you 'don't know'?" Steve asked.
"Just that," Loki said, "I don't know. I remember pressing the button on the bomb, then everything went black. The next thing I know, I am waking up in a field outside the city with my magic severely drained." This was true, he did not know for certain what had happened.
"You don't remember anything else? Anything at all?" Banner asked.
Loki shook his head. "No." He wasn't sure why he left out his theory that it had been his Frost Giant blood that had saved him, but he found that he didn't want to share that with them. Perhaps he was afraid that they would judge him for it. He wasn't sure, but he stayed silent on that.
"It doesn't matter." Everyone turned to see Clint, standing facing Loki. "All that matters is that he's alive. The how isn't important." Loki narrowed his eyes at the archer, who simply flicked his eyes down the red-haired woman at his side. Loki relaxed, understanding what Clint was trying to say. He inclined his head to the archer, who returned the gesture.
"Agent Barton is right," Fury said, stepping up to the Trickster. He placed a hand on Loki's shoulder. "It's good to have you back with us."
Loki nodded. "Thank you."
Fury nodded as well and lowered his arm. "It's late. We've all had a long day. I suggest that everyone get to bed." He began to walk away. "Coulson, Hill." The two agents followed after their Director, both nodding to Loki as they passed, Coulson with a small smile.
Loki smirked mischievously. "That sounds like a marvelous idea." Without another word, he vanished, with bewildered Natasha in tow.
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A/N: Another chapter down. Hope you enjoyed it. Let me know. Review but don't flame.
Until next time.
-Atrocity.