Next week the setting goes a different route. That's gotta be fun~

Although today is in fact April 1 this chapter is not a joke. I was thinking of a joke chapter, but only for a second before scrapping the idea.

Onward to this chapter. And when you thought Thor was already having enough trouble...

"Absolutely not."

Loki snorted, holding up the piece of armor. "Why are you so against it? Everyone else will be wearing one as well."

"You aren't," Natasha said, frowning at her muddled reflection on the metal.

"True, but I fight better in slimmer armor."

"That's a breastplate, for goodness' sake. Have you seen the way I fight? A breastplate would probably hurt me faster than I can hurt my opponent."

"Then what do you expect to use?"

Natasha gestured to her trademark black bodysuit. "I don't need armor."

"That's funny, because I think we're currently in the middle of an armory, meaning to fit you in some proper armor so a single shot of a rifle won't take you down," said Loki.

"Practically all the militaries on Earth don't need these outdated things anymore," said Natasha, lifting up an overlarge cuirass. "And we manage pretty fine."

"Really," said Loki. "That explains why they die so quickly in combat."

"It's not like armor is absolutely invincible anyway," said Natasha. "Or there would be nothing to worry about."

"That's what my charms are for," said Loki. "Enhancement can go a long way." He threw aside the rejected breastplate and fished around the bare racks for extra suits of armor. Most of the armory's contents had been stripped away in preparation for Asgard's warriors, with only a few weathered ones left behind of outrageous sizes.

"These are enormous," said Natasha. She held up a pair of boots and raised her eyebrows. "What is this, a size seventy? In men's?"

"You really are rather petite, aren't you?" Loki said, examining a suit of lamellar armor before realizing that they would reach down to Natasha's knees if she ever deigned to wear them. He threw them aside into the discarded pile. "I'm sure we can smith something for you quickly, if all fails. Though I have never been in the favor of blacksmiths."

"I told you, I don't need armor," said Natasha. "I work better dodging, not taking a blow. It'll only slow me down."

"I can hardly see how it would detract from your prowess," said Loki. "How do you feel about scale armor?"

"Tacky," said Natasha.

"Now you're just being difficult," said Loki. "I wear armor, but I like to think I'm adequately agile."

He turned away to hook the metal coat back on its stand before a helmet came flying at him and hitting him in his shoulder, nearly knocking him down. He spun around accusingly to Natasha's smug face shining down at him from on top of a wooden chest of gauntlets.

"So much for agile," she said.

"You certainly did not object so much when I was enhancing your firearms," said Loki, rubbing his back.

"No one complains about unlimited ammo," said Natasha. "But you're so insistent on me wearing armor while everyone else you don't fret over. Why don't you force Steve into some chainmail or something? Why me?"

"He has a shield. It suffices," said Loki.

"Bruce doesn't have a shield or anything," said Natasha.

"He has his beast. That is perhaps the best suit of armor anyone could ask for," said Loki. She raised her eyebrow skeptically and he sighed exasperatedly. "The others can keep away from their opponent if they need to. Tony already has his armor, and the Captain his shield. Nothing could make so much as a mark on the good Doctor and Clint's arrows can smite his enemy before they could touch him."

"If you think I can't defend myself just because of how I fight..."

"I don't doubt your abilities," said Loki. "Only that I fear the enemies'."

Natasha exhaled deeply, pressing her lips into a thin line. "I've survived this far without any help."

"Don't curse yourself," said Loki.

"Are you a superstitious person now?"

"Only an anxious one."

"Well, don't be. If you think I need the extra help because I'm a woman—"

"I am perhaps the last person who would underestimate a woman at this point in my life," said Loki. "I grew up with Frigga and Sif, remember."

"Speaking of which," Natasha said, giving him a crooked smile. "Is it Asgardian custom for women to slap people upon meeting them? Because it seems to be happening to you and Thor a lot."

Loki scowled. "Sif is a different matter. She will stop at no means to establish her physical prowess, much to the rest of our misfortune."

"Does Asgard not have that many women warriors?" said Natasha.

"I could hardly call it absolutely rare," said Loki. "We do have our Valkyries, after all. And Mother was a shieldmaiden upon wedding with Father."

Natasha gave a low and impressed whistle.

"But at least they wear armor to battle as well," Loki said.

"It's a good thing you usually wear your armor daily," said Natasha. "With all the sass you give, I'm surprised people aren't constantly punching you in the gut."

"I don't know how it is on Midgard, but punching a prince is more or less frowned upon."

"Prince or no prince, you'd deserve it," said Natasha.

"Funnily enough, you aren't the first to express that."

"I'm guessing Sif?" said Natasha, raising her eyebrows.

"If she had everything her way, I'd constantly have her foot down my mouth until the end of my days," said Loki.

Natasha gave Loki a smirk. "Did you used to like her?"

Loki nearly dropped the helmet in his hands. He quickly set it down before his fingers could lose grip on them and foil his façade of innocence.

"Her?" Loki said. "Sif? Natasha, I thought after noting my partiality toward you that you would figure out that I had a very refined taste in women."

"You're blushing," said Natasha. She grinned unabashedly. "Oh, you did, didn't you? So what are you two now? Frenemies? Exes?"

"I don't even know what those words mean," said Loki.

"Thor let slip that you liked a girl back in your childhood," said Natasha.

Loki felt his eyebrow twitch for irritation. He was going to kill Thor if the war wasn't going to do it for him.

"Thor's perception is less than stellar," said Loki. "He'll look upon a maiden offering to water a knight's horse and accuse them of elopement."

"Do you still like her?" said Natasha. "I mean, after not seeing her for who knows how long, maybe sentiments will resurrect itself after the reunion…"

"What? No!" said Loki. "Why would you accuse me of that? It only lasted a year at most in my youth, you are the one that—"

He only realized his folly when Natasha began snickering behind her hand and his face burned. He gritted his teeth and petulantly buried himself into the long racks of chainmail to avoid confrontation.

"I really ought to know by now not to trust your conversations," said Loki.

"Thank you for your cooperation," Natasha said, and he could practically hear her grinning victoriously. "Come on, a childhood crush is nothing to be embarrassed about. Unless it ended really badly or something."

"A thousand years tends to smooth over certain grudges eventually, you know," Loki said behind the chainmail.

"So something did happen," said Natasha. "Did you confess your feelings to her or something?"

"I sheared off her hair."

A beat, before, "Well, good thing my hair is already pretty short."

Natasha pushed aside the chainmail to reveal him, one eyebrow raised amusedly.

"I should ask your parents what sort of shenanigans you got in that earned you the title of God of Mischief," said Natasha.

"You could give them a month and that wouldn't be enough time for them to talk," said Loki. "The name certainly wasn't bestowed to me out of generalization."

"They must be the most patient parents in the world," said Natasha.

Loki smiled in spite of himself. "If you hadn't figured that out by now. They've been proving it time and time again. I hardly deserve them as my caretakers."

"Well, then, it's a good thing we don't earn our parents," said Natasha. She leaned closer, her hands holding onto the rack above her head. "You're a good son, Loki. Sure, you're not the perfect son—no one is—but if they didn't want you for you, I'm sure we wouldn't even be where we are now."

He nodded, mind hazed over with thoughts. It was strange to think how any of the smallest twist of events could have landed Loki in anyone else's arms besides Odin's when he was babe, if not Death's. How did the Norns choose for Loki to be adopted by the king of Asgard, of all people? But, in a sense, that was what all aspects of life were—at the mercy of slightest turn of fate. A precise dance upon a thin string, and somehow all the steps were miraculously in place.

"If only their ability to forgive was inheritable by name," said Loki.

"If that's what you want, looks like you'll have to work for it," said Natasha. "No cheating anymore. But I think you're on the right track, Loki."

"I hope I am," said Loki, placing his hands on the rack alongside hers, leaning closer. Natasha furrowed her eyebrows.

"You're paler than usual," she said.

"I'm hiding in the shadows, what would you expect?"

"No," said Natasha. She pushed the chainmail further aside and frowned. "Are you feeling okay?"

Loki's smile almost faltered, but he kept his composure. "Of course not." When she looked appallingly concerned, he added, "You've stolen the breath right out of my lungs, after all."

"Nice save, Casanova," said Natasha. "But I'm serious. You've been less healthy than usual this past while."

"Even I can be inflicted with a cold every now and then, can't I?" said Loki.

"Don't tell me that the mighty and powerful AEsir can get down with something like the sniffles."

Loki smiled, leaning closer toward her. Just before their foreheads were about to touch, the door to the armory swung open. Loki jerked immediately, bumping his head against the rack as Natasha swung away, chainmail in hand as if she were merely browsing.

"Am I…interrupting something?" Thor said, looking as if suddenly he wasn't so sure about slamming the door so heavily as he did.

Loki's eyebrow twitched but he flashed a sweet smile to Thor. Natasha raised her eyebrow curiously as if she were just as confused as Thor about the situation, comparing the chainmail with the breastplate.

"Loki's just insisting that I suit up Asgardian style," said Natasha. "Needless to say, I don't agree."

"It wouldn't hurt," Thor said.

"Yes, exactly," Loki said. "See? Thor agrees."

"Oh sure. The only time you two actually agree on something," Natasha said with a smirk. She shook the chainmail until the silver ringlets jangled. "This would go down to my thighs. Way too long."

"We can make adjustments," said Thor. "I assure you, the metal is very light and will not obstruct you."

"Thanks, Thor," said Natasha. "Maybe I'll try it out."

Loki clasped his forehead exasperatedly; he could practically hear Natasha's smirk with her back turned toward him.

"May I speak with you, Loki?" said Thor.

Loki blinked perplexedly. "At this moment?"

"If you do not mind," said Thor.

Loki shrugged and emerged from the chainmail wrack. Thor bowed his head in thanks and stepped inside.

"I'll be trying this on in the meantime," Natasha said, waving the chainmail as she headed toward the door.

"And keep it on by the battle, won't you?" Loki said.

Natasha rolled her eyes before exiting the armory, closing the door behind her. Loki cleared his throat, busying himself with dusting off his clothes as Thor approached him.

"You should consider persuading people more often," said Loki. "She kept insisting she had enough skill to avoid the use of armor."

"And you think she does not?" said Thor.

"It isn't that," said Loki, his cheeks growing warm. "Fellow soldiers want to look out after each other, don't they?"

"I do hope you realize that I already am aware that you have sentiments for her," Thor said.

The corner of Loki's mouth twitched, although he could feel the back of his neck burn. "How very observant of you."

"Don't tell me you're embarrassed I know," Thor said, raising his eyebrows humorously.

"Apparently you also told her about what happened last time I was foolish enough to harbor anything beyond tolerance for someone?"

"I may have alluded to it once."

Loki groaned. "Brilliant. We're in the midst of a war and now I have that to lord over my head as if everything else wasn't stressful enough."

Thor's face sobered. "That was what I came to talk to you about, Loki. More or less."

"What, the woes of my tenderly love-struck heart?"

"I meant the war, Loki."

"Right," said Loki. "Does Father need me to appeal to other realms for an alliance?"

"Where would you even go?" said Thor.

"Well, not Muspelheim," said Loki. "Last time any of us went there, it resulted in absolute disaster."

"You are still angry with me about that, aren't you?" said Thor.

"Not angry, per se," said Loki. "Still judging you for thinking that you could take on a whole battalion of fire demons when you wielded Mjölnir for a mere two days."

"Not to the dwarves, either," said Thor. "That will be my job."

"They are most likely still not very fond of me," said Loki.

"It's been nearly five hundred years," said Thor.

"Oh, you know the dwarves. Their anger is like their women. Grows fouler with age."

"Perhaps you should help the Avengers with the terrain of the land," said Thor. "Our soldiers will have the advantage of the battlefield, but the Avengers will not."

"Perhaps," said Loki, lowering his voice. He pressed his lips together. "Or maybe—" He paused before exhaling softly.

"What is it?" said Thor.

"I was thinking," said Loki.

"And?" said Thor.

"I want to go to Jotunheim," said Loki.

The look of perplexity on Thor's face would have been laughable if Loki wasn't serious. When Thor realized that Loki spoke the truth, he ran a hand bewilderedly through his hair, trying to catch his thoughts in tangible order again.

"You—you do?" said Thor.

"Yes," said Loki. Admitting it made his voice shudder, but he kept his calmness as if his life depended on it. "I…Thanos will not be merciful. Not to them, not to anyone."

Thor nodded silently, biting his lip. Loki crossed his arms protectively, unsure whether to take Thor's silence as approval or worry. There was much to worry about; Loki had tried to destroy Jotunheim, after all, and no doubt that the Frost Giants hadn't forgotten that fact, new monarch on the throne or not. What if there was no alliance to be made?

"Will you go alone?" said Thor.

"Yes," said Loki. "You trust me with that much, don't you?"

"Of course I do," said Thor.

"Spare me the need to tell you that I know you're lying to me," said Loki. "Surely you don't accredit me so little."

Thor looked away.

"What can I say?" said Thor. "I fear letting you out of my sight. Out of my reach."

"I'm not a doll," said Loki. "I've survived this far on my own."

"If things were better, you would not have had to be alone," said Thor.

"No point in crying over spilt blood," said Loki. He quieted at Thor's somber face. "There is nothing to fear of the Frost Giants."

"What changed your mind?" said Thor. "You were not so inclined to help the Frost Giants before. And now, you will face them alone."

Loki gave a soft chuckle in spite of himself.

"Realizing that I can conquer my deeper fears," he said. "If so many others have shown me forgiveness, can I not pay it forward in some way?"

Thor placed his hand on the back of Loki's neck, an affectionate clasp that once made Loki feel constrained—trapped—possessed—but now he only felt safe. But Thor's eyes slid down to Loki's chest and graveness settled in those icy blue, and Loki became all too aware of what Thor was thinking.

"Loki," said Thor. "Are you well?"

"What will it take for you to realize I'm not a helpless maiden?" said Loki.

"Do not think I did not notice your ailment these past several days," said Thor. "Or more accurately, these past several weeks." His frown deepened and his hand gripped tighter on Loki, as if to keep him from running from the truth. "Your magic holds your glamor impressively, Loki, but it cannot fool me."

Loki clenched his teeth. "I don't know what you speak of."

"Will you never tell me when you are hurt? When you are in need?" said Thor.

"I'm in need of nothing," said Loki.

"Loki, please," said Thor, and his voice nearly broke. "If one day, I look for you—I search for you, and instead I find you—I find you gone, or ill, or beyond help, and it would be too late, what could I do? Don't do this to me—to Mother and Father—to Natasha. Please."

"Don't," Loki said, "use our parents or Natasha as a card to manipulate me."

"It is the truth," said Thor. "Every blow you deal on yourself, every hurt you shoulder on your own, is a blow to them. To her." Thor swallowed hard. "To me."

Loki shuddered and wished to push Thor's hand away before he could feel the tremor.

"What is it that you even ask of me?" Loki said.

"The truth behind your façade," said Thor. "What it is that inflicts you. What we can do to help you."

Loki wetted his thin lips. He couldn't, he couldn't, he couldn't, but Thor was here, holding him, begging him, and what could he do? What could he do but deal the blow that may hurt the most?

"It will not put you at ease," Loki said.

"The truth has that effect," said Thor. "But lies will only make the inevitable more painful."

Loki bit his tongue before gently pulling Thor's hand away from his nape. He could feel his own fatigue stir under his feigned visage, and the thought of releasing the shape-shifted look of health was already draining.

"Remember that you were the one who asked," said Loki.

He closed his eyes and let out a sigh, letting the magic drain from his skin, worn and tattered. Without opening his eyes, he knew what came to light—the heavy shadows under sunken eyes, the worryingly gaunt face, the bloodless hue of his skin. The delicateness of the bone pressing too close against skin. The weariness that thrummed through his veins.

Thor made no sound as Loki's delicate but otherwise healthy appearance faded to reveal the truth—Loki's wasted, fading form that had hidden from view all this time. When Loki finally opened his eyes again, he saw Thor's face and he wished he had never acquiesced. Thor's face was so distraught Loki thought he had perhaps destroyed Thor's most favorite possession.

"Loki," Thor said, and nothing else.

Loki's mouth felt dry, and when he spoke his voice was as brittle as he looked.

"I'm sorry," he said.

Thor raised a hand to Loki's face. His thick fingers were heavy and tough against Loki's skin and he suppressed a wince. He knew Thor could feel the bones of his cheek jutting out too sharply, and Thor's touch was gentler than Loki remembered.

"The Mind Gem is doing this to you?" said Thor. "Even with its magic suppressed?"

"A contained fire still burns," said Loki.

Thor took in a sharp intake of breath, and Loki swore that if Thor's lips were truly trembling as he thought he saw, he would banish himself from the Nine Realms. He wished he could run away, but he was tired of running. He was tired.

"Loki," said Thor, and his voice shook uncontrollably. "Brother, are you dying?"

Thor, in all his slowness and bluntness, struck Loki where it hurt. And Loki remembered why he had been so willing to accept the title of the God of Lies—lies were easy, were safe, were gilded and cushioned the blow. The truth was too painful. The truth was too much.

"Thor," he said.

"Please," Thor said. He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing with difficulty. "Please, Loki. Tell me the truth. Is the Mind Gem killing you?"

Loki couldn't bring himself to look into Thor's face. Thor's hand on his face felt both too comforting and too agonizing, a solid reminder of what he would leave behind.

"I had always been dying, I think," said Loki. "The Mind Gem only made matters better or worse."

"No," Thor said, his voice thick. "No. Tell me you are not certain. That you only guess, and you have no proof."

Oh, Thor, you foolish, naïve prince. The golden prince whose heart was too large for his chest that it shattered his ribs with each beat and weakened him with every pulse. Don't you see, that death is so real that it needs no evidence? That all it took to die was to live?

"I only just got you back," Thor said. "I just got you back. You were lost—far from my reach—and now you're here in my arms and you're telling me that soon you will—when? How much longer?"

"I don't know," said Loki. "Perhaps several months from now, or several decades. Thanos is a patient titan—so long as I would expire if I ever left him, he would not care how long it would take to retrieve the Mind Gem again."

"We will take it out of you," said Thor, feverish. "Eir knows all things healing. And we have Father and his powers—and the help of the Vanir—"

"Thor, do not do this to yourself," said Loki.

"Thanos is not the most powerful creature in this universe. No—these blasted—"

Thor tore himself away from Loki and sank a punch into a helmet rack. It stood no chance.

"—vile—"

The shelves of helmets toppled under his fist.

"—traitorous—"

The room shattered with the sound of clattering mettle upon stone.

"—worthless Infinity Gems—they are not the most powerful things in the universe!"

A whole rack of breastplates fell to the ground, echoing painfully. Loki did not move a muscle the entire time, staring at the ground and shaking as Thor took out all his frustration, his anger and his agony onto his surroundings. Thor breathed raggedly, his impulse spent and his destruction evident around him. Thor let out a choked gasp and covered his mouth with his hand, suppressing whimpers.

"Not my brother," he said, his voice muffled from his fingers. "Oh Norns, please—take my eyes. Take my blood, my life. Not my brother."

Loki finally broke from his frozen state, silently placing a hand on Thor's shoulder. Thor took it gratefully, holding it so gently yet so tightly as if Loki was a dream, a fantasy that reality tried to dispel. Loki placed both hands on each side of Thor's head and brought it to him slightly, pressing a kiss on Thor's forehead.

"Be at peace, my brother," Loki said. "For me—be at peace."

"Lady Natasha."

The words came with a lilt of surprise—a curious reaction to hear from an all-powerful king. Natasha kept her mind calm as she clenched and unclenched her fist behind her back.

"King Odin," said Natasha. She was used to speaking with strangers; she was so adept with hiding whatever uncertainties her mind harbored and twisting the conversation to her advantage that she hadn't accidentally stumbled on her words for ages. But when it came to speaking the truth—when there was no guile or ulterior motive—she lost her upper hand. "Please just call me Natasha."

Odin bowed his head. They stood in the corridor, where they accidentally met—accidental in Odin's case, and less so in Natasha's. It was rare to catch the king alone, or to scour for a private place, in the midst of a war. But she couldn't help herself—she wanted to know.

"Is Asgard treating you well?" said Odin.

"Yes," said Natasha. "Very well. Our welcome was warm."

"It gladdens me to hear," said Odin.

"Do you have a moment?" Natasha said, the words spilling quickly.

Odin blinked in surprise.

"I mean, I know you must be busy, with a war coming and all," she said. "I just wanted to ask you something. Something that means a bit to me."

Odin bowed his head in resolve. "Anything you wish. It is the least I could do."

"I mean," Natasha said. "I'm not keeping you from anything, am I? I understand if you need appointments, or if you're headed somewhere you need to be…"

A dash of humble apology and acknowledgement of his ranking into her words, and she knew that she would not lose her much-coveted conversation with Odin.

"Please, do not worry," said Odin. "I will speak with you for however long you need."

She was certainly going to hold him up to that promise.

"Why do people in Asgard consider Frost Giants as monsters?" she said.

If he had expected sweet and fragile-looking Natasha to inquire something somewhat trivial or mortal, he certainly did not receive it.

Silence settled. She did not break eye contact with him, and neither did he to her. She could see the surprise, the guilt, and the grief in his eye with just a blink, the way his eye shone from the light of the candelabras. She knew she would receive an answer.

"Why do you ask?" said Odin.

"Why wouldn't I?" said Natasha. "We've come to find out a lot about Asgard with both your sons living under the same roof as us."

"I see," said Odin.

She was impressed by how calmly he took this, despite the emotional stun that the forward question may have had on him. What more did she expect from a king, after all? She didn't care if she did not ask subtly, manipulatively, as she was oft to do; she was not asking for the sake of a mission, or a paying benefactor. She was asking for herself.

"You know of Loki's true heritage, then," he said.

"Yes," said Natasha. "Thor mentioned Asgard's stereotypes of them a long time ago. And judging by the way Loki had looked at himself, he believed them."

"I never meant for him to be hurt," said Odin, and Natasha knew that he was genuine. "I never wished for him to find out about his true blood in the manner he did, with so much pain and disgust. I only wished to protect him from the truth."

"What's wrong with the truth?" said Natasha.

The flames in the torches crackled.

"Is being a Frost Giant really that bad?" said Natasha. "I mean, I get the whole racism thing. It happens on Earth too. But internalized racism is no better whether it's on Earth or in a place like Asgard."

"I did not seek to raise Loki to detest Frost Giants," said Odin, an edge to his voice.

Well, thought Natasha. You didn't do so hot with that.

"So," she said, "what went wrong?"

"My foolishness," said Odin. His voice was heavy and the shadows painted more lines on his face. "My foolishness and Asgard's difficulty to move on. If I could go back and change the ways of our mad world, I would. But war will make monsters of anyone."

"You haven't been in war with the Frost Giants since Loki was born," said Natasha. "But it still lives on. Even in the subtlest of ways. You remember that time Loki got attacked by the Chitauri on Earth and your queen came down to him? He ran off because he got hurt—because Thor accidentally said a passing comment that was extremely negative against Frost Giants. I'm not blaming Thor for anything, but it's a little disconcerting how those kinds of insults that demean an entire race live on so naturally."

"I can see where your frustration lies, Lady Natasha," Odin said. She was admittedly impressed that he wasn't yelling in some booming avalanche of a voice or towering shadows over him, like Thor was capable of doing. "In such little time, your world's views of people undergo drastic changes, from hatred to acceptance. Albeit not a complete acceptance everywhere, there is change. You've reached in decades what Asgard has yet to do in several millennia."

"Why?" said Natasha. "Why don't you banish this anti-Frost Giant culture? I don't know much about kingship, but don't you have the power?" Her voice became more and more feverish as she spoke, as if she could conjure a solution—or an answer—to this folly. "I bet there are fairy tales—lessons in school—even adult politics that attack Frost Giants, that bit by bit led to all of Loki's self-hatred. Why couldn't that be changed?"

She swallowed hard. "I should apologize, I think, if this is in any way insulting, but I want to know. Why, I don't know. The damage is done and I've got to look at the now and the future if things are to be made right. The fact that Loki found out he was adopted from another race isn't the sole source of all his emotional turmoil. But I just want to know why. Why did it have to be that way? Was there a way things could have gone better?"

Odin was silent at first and Natasha wondered if she had gone perhaps several steps too far. Instead of any sign of outburst, however, Odin only bowed his head humbly, his one eye gleaming nearly as much as the golden patch on the other side.

"You have every right to ask, Lady Natasha," said Odin. "And the least I can do is answer. I am king, yes—but I cannot tell my people how to think, how to feel, what to be afraid of and what not to be. Long lives of AEsir make change difficult, when we are constantly living in such an endless existence as ours. Midgard can change and grow in a matter of centuries—Asgard is not so blessed, not so fortunate as to be able to have new minds take place of the old time and time again."

"Loki and Thor changed their ways," said Natasha. "Changed probably a thousand or two thousand years' worth of past understandings and thoughts."

"Such is the effect that mortals seem to have on my sons," Odin said with a half-smile. "But understand—much of the generation that had lived through the war against the Frost Giants still live today with fresh memories, and they would not forget so much as to not influence their children with their fears and distaste."

He pressed his lips together in a way that reminded Natasha of how Loki would when he was lost in thought. "I tried to never tell Thor or Loki stories of histories that painted Frost Giants in a monstrous light, but to protect them from a culture that devalued Frost Giants would be to keep them from all of Asgard—from their companions, their peers, even their nursemaids. Perhaps I can ban my people from speaking aloud their resentment, or penning the Frost Giants in bad light, but I cannot ban them from thinking one way or the other. Nevertheless, I had not done what a good father ought to do for his son. I think I will regret it for the rest of my life."

Natasha clenched her teeth. She understood—she truly did—but it pained her still. To grow up only to find out that you were of a people that everyone else seemed to despise—how much pain could come forth from that? How much brokenness may still exist in Loki that she had yet to help him through?

"Were Frost Giants always the enemy of Asgard?" she said.

"No," said Odin. "But for the most recent several millennia, tensions ran high. I do not believe we had a successful and stable peace with Jotunheim since my own father was king of Asgard."

She didn't even want to ask how long ago that was.

"What about now?" said Natasha. "Who are the Frost Giants now?"

Odin did not speak at first, and when he did, his voice was soft; tender, even.

"A people worth fighting with," said Odin, "and a people worth dying with. And someday Asgard will know this."

"You must have known that for a while," said Natasha.

"You say this much for a long-foolish man?" said Odin.

"Loki's still your son, isn't he?" said Natasha.

A small smile flitted across Odin's features.

"I've heard you've grown close to my youngest," he said.

"We all have," said Natasha.

"In all your own ways," said Odin.

Natasha opened her mouth, but then resigned to her silence.

In the corridor perpendicular to them, several guards hurried past, their metal armor clanking heavily in the stone hallway. Odin turned away from Natasha, all sense of kingliness returning to him with the straightening of the spine and lift of the chin.

"I must leave you," said Odin. "My sons depart soon to negotiate with other realms, and I will see them off."

"I will you see you soon then," said Natasha, "because I will too." Remembering her manners, she gave Odin a small bow. "Thank you for your time."

"And you," said Odin. "Thank you."

"I don't think I've done anything to warrant gratitude recently," said Natasha.

"You do," said Odin. "For caring for Loki so much."

Natasha felt her skin grow warm, and she almost resisted smiling.

"I'm not even keeping a tally," she said.

Odin bowed to her—and she realized the implications almost a second too late. That the king of Asgard, a king that could easily smite her by blinking his one eye if he wished, bowed in respect and thanks to her, an ex-assassin who has done more damage than good in her time. She felt the urge to bow again, as if to even the playing field, before he departed, following the long-past guards.

She let out a sigh of relief, standing in the empty corridor. There really was no peace to be found, asking Odin all this. No moment of clarity, no answer to be sought, nothing. Only a reason why, and to wonder for what would come. If Loki would still be accepted by Asgard after the war was fought and won. If Loki would accept himself. Truly, how bad could Frost Giants be, if one loved her so tenderly as he did?

"Nat?"

Natasha spun around at the sound of the voice. Clint was peeking out from the other end of the corridor, emerging from the dank shadows. She frowned, approaching him. He did not move or say anything else, and he looked as if he regretted revealing his hiding place.

"Were you standing here the whole time?" she said.

Clint bit the inside of his cheek, and she could see the imprint of the stone against the side of his face where he pressed closely against the wall, trying to melt into hiding.

"I'm sorry," said Clint. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "I couldn't help it. I felt awkward walking past the hallway, and I didn't think of backpedaling, so…"

"It's fine," said Natasha. "It's just that the conversation was really meant for just Odin and me. I don't think Loki would like it for a lot of us to know we discuss his race without him around or anything."

"Yeah," said Clint. "Yeah, I get that. I mean, I never thought of it. His race issue or anything, I mean, not your reasoning. I guess I never noticed. Scratch that—" He rubbed the back of his neck. "I did notice something, but I didn't know if it was because he was just a really pessimistic person or what, so…"

"Just don't talk about it to others or anything, okay?" said Natasha. "There aren't any secrets or anything, but it doesn't feel like our place."

"I get that," said Clint. "Sorry again for listening in. I was sort of—interested."

The corner of Natasha's lips twitched into a smile. "You really are like a kid brother," she said.

Clint gave a half-chuckle, looking away. He cleared his throat, hesitated, and cleared it again.

"You know that Loki's leaving for Jotunheim soon?" he said.

"What? Jotunheim?" said Natasha. "When? Why?"

"In the next hour or so. Peace talks or something," said Clint. "Are you going to see him off? I mean, he'll probably be back within the next day or so."

"Well, since you told me, yes," said Natasha. "Is he leaving soon?"

Clint shrugged. He exhaled softly through his lips, tugging at his cropped hair.

"Nat?" he said.

"Yeah?" said Natasha.

"Do you love Loki?"

Natasha found herself speechless in front of one of the very few people she could be honest with. With Clint watching her waiting for an answer, and the absolutely, mercilessly bluntness of his question, she realized that she had no idea how to go about this question, no idea how to deal with it. And to Clint of all people—Clint, whom she cared so much for, and he for her, despite whatever had and may come between them.

What if he disapproved?

What if he was disappointed?

(What's wrong with the truth?)

"Yeah," said Natasha. Her voice was soft. "I do."

Clint opened his mouth, closed it, and then gave a small chuckle, letting his head hang low.

"What is it?" she said.

He shook his head, a small and crooked smile on his face.

"Steve owes me ten bucks," he said.