Again, you guys are beyond words! I've never had such amazing reactions to a story before: thank you all so much!
Special thanks goes to Myridinn for the fabulous reviews.
And finally; this chapter is nothing as I planned. It rather took off on it's own, although the main plot is still okay. Don't you all love it when a story gains sentience?
Love to you all and hope you enjoy!
Christmas passed by far too quickly for Tony's liking.
Loki left early in the morning, some when around five o'clock. They had spent the rest of the night talking – Evie lying on the bed between them and obstinately refusing to go to sleep. She had been completely entranced by the dark-haired God, which Tony considered as unfair since Loki had conjured up small strings of stars that floated around her head and changed colour. Definitely cheating.
However it had helped to keep her amused whilst the two of them discussed more serious thing; namely the chitauri.
Whilst they were doggedly following Loki's magical signature, he was managing to stay a step ahead by never remaining in one place for more than twenty four hours. The encounter where he'd been injured turned out to have been due to a large mis-calculation on Loki's part. He'd been attempting to meditate and recuperate the energy lost through the constant teleportation and – simple as – lost track of how long he'd been there. It took two days for the chitauri to pin-point his location (middle of the Siberian desert) and to launch an attack that was enough of a surprise for them to land the two blows on the God before he could gather himself and vanish.
"Why not fight and kill them? More your style." Tony had wanted to know.
And the answer had been simple enough. Kill a few and more would just keep on coming. How long could one person – God or not – fight off an unending hoard? So Loki had gritted his teeth and rather than standing his ground as every molecule of his existence demanded he had fought his nature and fled.
He hadn't made the same mistake twice and made sure to change location each day.
"That sounds exhausting…" Tony noted after a while.
And it was a relief for the trickster to admit that yes it was. He was tired to the bone of running the whole time and there was absolutely nothing he could do about it. It made no difference if he was on Earth, or shot off to the other side of the multiverse, they would still hunt him down anyway. So he stuck to the small blue planet purely for the sense of familiarity it lent.
The planet he once would have ruled now had become something of a sanctuary.
Oh the irony.
When the time came for Loki to leave they didn't make a big deal out of it. Evelyn was sleeping again, so didn't really notice the gentle kiss pressed to her forehead or tear that accidently splashed onto her cheek.
It was harder for the two men to work out what to say to each other this time round. Sentiment had been expressed, tears had been openly shed and emotions laid bare. It was almost awkward.
"I…It appears that the giving of gifts is expected during this celebration of the birth of Christ." Loki said softly. "I wasn't entirely sure what was appropriate in this day and age – I am still somewhat behind on the times." He waved a hand in the air – a somewhat complicated gesture – and two wrapped boxes appeared in said hand.
"The general Earth saying is that 'it's the thought that counts'." More than in this case – Tony hadn't even thought the God would care about the traditions surrounding the Christian celebration. He was, putting it frankly, stunned. "Uh. I did get something for you too. Not sure if pagans gave gifts at Yule in the old days, but I thought, hey! Everyone likes presents, right?" Without waiting for a response he turned away and pulled a small package out of the bedside cupboard. It was shoddily covered in red paper showing dinky robins and looked very childish next to the two immaculately wrapped boxes that Loki held – one in silver paper and the other in gold. Both had a neat runic inscription on the lid denoting whose was whose.
They didn't open them then and there – making the informed decision that it would save on sentiment and prolong the farewell too much. Rather, they kissed, shared a few whispered words and Loki finally vanished.
When Tony later opened the presents with Evie he had to smile. The baby's box contained five long strings of the magical stars that the trickster had conjured, able to be pinned up or held in the hand. He strongly suspected that they would turn out to be rather long lasting.
His own present made him laugh though: A book.
A magic book. Well, a book on magic, but in his mind 'magic book' sounded better. He had a feeling that it was actually written in a different language – his eyes felt like they were trying to see both pictures of an optical illusion at once – but he was processing it in English. Whilst the man had no preconceptions that he would ever be able to do any magic – Loki had made it fairly clear to him in past conversations – it was going to be fascinating to read up on a subject he knew nothing about.
And meanwhile – somewhere in a small hotel room in Nairobi – Loki's musical laughter was heard as he opened up his own gift to find a patented StarkPlayer. A small note alongside the device informed him that it contained examples of music from every single era and genre Tony could think of. Evidently the human believed that Loki needed to update his knowledge in certain areas. A bit of a joke, but with underlying thoughtfulness. Very Stark.
MWMWMWMWMWMWMWMWMWM
Time moved on, as it is wont to do so and Evie grew. By her ninth month she was beginning to crawl and getting under everyone's feet. Switching between moving on all fours and shuffling around on her bottom she could move deceptively quickly. It wasn't long before the baby discovered the art of pulling herself up to her feet using any and everything in reach to do so – including peoples legs.
The group as a whole had initially protested against this – if nothing else worried at the responsibility this caused. However, none of them were immune to a tiny chubby fist grabbing their trouser leg and a little chortle of laughter once the child was upright. It soon became commonplace to see one of Earths Mightiest Heroes frozen in place by fear whilst being used as a support.
And the developmental milestone gave Tony a plan.
Evie had been calling him 'Dada' since she was six months old – he'd cried his heart out the first time he heard it – and that combined with her nearing walking had given him an idea that seemed both ambitious and phenomenal at the same time.
He had a large selection of photographs of Loki, mostly CCTV, taken back during the chitauri invasion. Whittling them down to a few choice pictures where the God wasn't looking psychotic Tony began showing them to Evie on a twice daily basis, introducing the trickster as Móhðy.
It was a moment of pure joy when the baby began repeating the word, albeit badly pronounced to begin with.
And before they knew it, September was coming around again, and Tony couldn't believe that it had been a year since Loki had appeared in his room and changed his life forever. A year of being a father and he'd somehow miraculously not horribly screwed it up yet.
Yet. He didn't hold out hope for making it entirely unscathed through his daughter's growth.
With Evelyn's first birthday came the warm knowledge that they would see Loki once more. It had been eight very long months, in which Tony had made Jarvis keep a video record of practically every moment of the baby's life so that Loki could watch all of her achievements. The resulting montage was almost an hour long.
So it was with bated breath that Tony retired early the night before Evie's birthday, waiting impatiently for the trickster to show up.
The baby had made it very clear that she wanted to sit on his bed, so was happily perched on the duvet playing with the rattle (it was near impossible to separate her from the small toy). Tony sat beside her with his tablet, working through some complex formulae that were so far from normal mathematics that he didn't even think about using numbers at this point. Instead a long stream of Greek letters and esoteric symbols (Tony had made up some of his own after realising that he couldn't express what he needed to with those available) ran along the tablet's screen, unintelligible to any but their creator.
The room was essentially silent except for the tinkling bells of Evie's rattle, so the quiet cough from the corner of the room was easily heard.
Tony's head shot up, a wide grin blossoming across his face.
"You took your time!"
The God raised an eyebrow in amusement. He was wearing human clothes for once; an Aran-knit jumper and – of all things – faded denim jeans. Tony wanted to make a stupid remark, but the look on Loki's face as Evie sat up to see who it was drove all such thoughts from him. The baby stared at the new-comer for a few moments before she finally seemed to recognise him as the same person from all the photographs Tony had been coaching her with and reached out her arms.
The simple action seemed to stun the trickster, his eyes widening almost impossibly. Tony took the opportunity to pick Evie up – her attention still firmly on her Móðir – and set her on the floor by the bed so that she had to grab hold of the edge of the mattress to stay upright. It was very easy to read the emotions that flashed across the baby's face: she was here, the interesting person she wanted to explore was over there, ergo she had to get herself from here to there.
Tony held his breath as he watched the child try to work out what to do. She was just about old enough to have the beginnings of problem-solving and it looked like she was reaching the only conclusion. With a determined little pout that was very reminiscent of the infamous Stark-concentration-face Evie released her hold on the mattress and took a few wobbly steps forwards to Loki.
The trickster fell to his knees, eyes over-bright with the suspicion of tears and arms open so that when the baby inevitably fell over he caught her. She stared up at him, green eyes meeting identical green eyes – their only shared feature – then giggled in delight and tried to grab his hair.
"Móhðy!"
And Loki broke.
He curled over, hugging his daughter to his chest as she gurgled happily and pulled at the knitted sweater he wore.
"Hey, it's okay."
There was a gentle hand on his shoulder, Tony sounding both concerned and understanding.
"Were they…?"
"Her first steps, yeah." The man knelt down so that he could wrap an arm around Loki's shaking shoulders. "I wasn't sure if she would or not, but it was worth a try. She's been standing for weeks now so it was only a matter of time. I really wanted you to be here to see her walk the first time." He was aware that he was babbling, but seeing a deity break down was always a nerve-wracking moment and when he was worried he always talked more than was good for him.
"Thank you…" Loki raised his head enough for Tony to see the tears and the small smile that contrasted them.
"Móhðy." Evie drew both men's attention back to her with her impatient little voice and a hard tug on Loki's hair. She smiled again when Loki gently tapped her on the nose.
"The first time I hear you speak and you're already so demanding." His amused admonishment was betrayed by the crack in his voice and the tears that refused to stop. "Look at you, already so big. I bet you cause all sorts of trouble."
"As befits the daughter of the God of mischief." Tony fondly ruffled the baby's hair and she giggled in delight.
"She looks like you." Loki traced his finger along his daughter's jawline, studying her features intently. She seemed to revel in the attention and tried to mirror the action, resting her chubby hand on his cheek.
"Your eyes."
Said eyes crinkled in a smile. "Indeed." The trickster rested his fingers against Evie's tiny hand. "Does she speak much else yet?"
Tony grinned proudly. "She can nearly say daddy now, and yes and no. To be honest I've spent most of my time getting her to say Móhðy for you. Took forever to find photos of you where you didn't look psychotic or evil."
That caused Loki's small smile to widen slightly. "I appreciate the effort." His expression turned serious again as the human chuckled. "I do mean it, Tony. I can't express my gratitude enough for all that you are doing to allow me to be a part of her life."
The raw emotion hurt. For someone to be so grateful just because they were allowed to see their own child was more than Tony wanted to think about.
"Don't. You don't have to express any gratitude, she's your daughter; you have a right to see her and to be with her."
Loki ran his spare hand over his face with a tired sigh, wiping away the tear tracks. "If only that were the case. Maybe one day but not yet."
"Still no break-through with the chitauri?"
The trickster glanced at Tony with a resigned smile. "Don't you think I would have been here and told you?" He asked gently. "They're still chasing and I'm still running."
"Have you had to fight them again?"
There was actually an expression of genuine embarrassment on Loki's face for a brief moment before he composed himself. "There was a brief encounter after I let my guard down. You may have heard about a volcanic eruption in Iceland…?"
"Not a volcano?"
"Not entirely, no. The eruption did occur, but may have had some help in starting."
Tony ran his gaze over the God, taking in the gaunt features and tired eyes. "How much damage did you take?"
Loki turned his attention back to Evie, conjuring up a kaleidoscope of butterflies that resulted in the baby squealing happily and trying to reach for them. "A little. Not as much as when I last saw you." At the inventor's stern glare he sighed and rolled up the edge of his jumper enough to reveal the gash that ran along his hip-bone.
"Why can't you heal what they do to you?"
An arched eyebrow, as if the answer to the question were obvious. "The chitauri are from another universe, their technology and methods are vastly different from those in this universe and are incompatible with my own magic." At Tony's frown the God rolled his eyes and tried to elaborate. "Envision my magic and the chitauri power-sources as sound waves. My sorcery oscillates at the same frequency as the universe which I am from; I am in harmony with it and therefore can twist and weave it about myself in the form of spells. The chitauri oscillate at a different frequency, a higher frequency. Now imagine those two sound waves meeting."
Tony bit his lip, nose scrunching up in consternation. As a physicist it wasn't difficult to see the problem Loki was having. If a high frequency sound wave met one of a lower frequency it would destroy it, cancelling out both itself and the lower wave. Loki's magic was being cancelled out by whatever power source the chitauri used, meaning that he was probably ineffectual against them in battle as well as unable to remove himself of the wounds left by said power source.
"If you can get me something that demonstrates their technology I could work on that for you?" He offered quietly.
Loki merely grinned knowingly. "No, you wouldn't. You would start off with the best of intentions and end up accidently creating a super-weapon, or time portal, or some other ridiculous notion which would inevitably blow up your laboratory."
"Uh. Yeah, okay, I'll grant you that."
"…Tauri?"
The two men looked back down at Evie who had a frown of concentration on her face.
"Is she trying to say-?"
"Yeah, let's not name them around her if we can help it." Tony said grimly.
Loki gently tipped their daughters chin up to make eye contact with her. "I won't let them get to you, Evelyn." He promised softly. "I swear to you that they will never harm you, my little bird, no matter what."
Evie was far too young to understand what was being said, but seemed to realise that the black-haired person who held her so tightly was someone she should return the affection to. Her arms were too short to reach around Loki's neck, but she tried anyway.
"Móhðy."
MWMWMWMWMWMWMWMMWMWMW
They filled the next few hours with Loki and Evie playing until the child fell asleep in his arms, her head on his shoulder. The trickster put her to bed, then he and Tony spent the rest of the night together in the inventor's bed.
Over the next few years this developed into a pattern.
And Evelyn grew.
By the time of her fourth birthday she was able to anticipate her mother's arrival and hold a decent conversation with him, much to his evident delight. She continued to take after Tony in the looks department, but it was slowly becoming apparent that she had inherited her cognitive powers from both parents. Loki's keen intelligence and phenomenal memory for facts had been combined with Tony's unique way of knowing how the world worked just by looking at it and his skill with looking at problems in a completely different way to everyone else. All in all she was becoming an incredibly precocious child prone to tantrums and sulks when she couldn't understand what was going on around her.
Much like Tony imagined Loki had been as a child.
It hardly mattered, all of the Avenger's still doted on her.
Initially Tony had intended to have his daughter go to a regular school and have a normal education. However, that ideal was ruined after it was made pretty damn clear that – restraining orders be damned – the press were just never going to leave Ironman's daughter alone. It also became apparent very quickly that if the press wanted her for interviews about living with the Avengers then it wasn't worth contemplating what would happen if an enemy got their hands on her. In the end Tony played the ever paranoid father and decided to have her home-schooled; a job that was left to Jarvis. The AI seemed to be thrilled – as much as a robotic personality could be – and downloaded every curriculum he could find from across the world and compiled them all to create what he deemed to be the perfect set of lesson plans.
Evie did still get out and about though. Dancing lessons (Steve's idea), horse riding (Loki's insistence) and gymnastics (Natasha's input) all kept her busy, although it was pretty obvious that she had no talent what-so-ever for any of the graceful arts. She got along well with horses though.
And Loki kept his promise and was always there every evening before her birthday and Christmas to count the occasions in with her. The presents he brought were generally non-magic based, since neither he nor Tony wanted to invite any unwanted attention, but were still always much appreciated by his daughter.
For her sixth birthday the three of them were sitting on Tony's bed watching the large-screen TV at the foot of his bed. Evie had chosen to watch Aladdin, and was completely absorbed with the antics of the monkey and flying carpet.
"That three-wish deal could be so easily exploited; Aladdin does not make the most of it." Loki muttered quietly. Tony nudged him with his shoulder.
"Hush, you, remember the rules about not spoiling Disney movies?"
"I am merely opposed to stupidity in films."
Evie, sitting on the trickster's lap, tilted her head up to look at him. "I think he's silly for having a monkey. They have fleas."
"According to that prince character, so does Aladdin, so I don't think it matters, dear." Loki absentmindedly ran his fingers through the girl's hair as she nodded happily and turned back to the film. A few minutes later she looked back up again.
"Móhðy, are you blue like the Genie?"
Tony held his breath at the innocent little question. He never really brought Loki's heritage up around the God, not knowing how Loki felt about it. However, Evie was a voracious reader and Thor had bought her a children's book of Norse myths. She'd obviously picked up on the whole Frost Giant thing.
As it was, Loki merely laughed. "Yes, I am. Although I must say I am much better looking than the Genie."
Tony looked at him like he'd grown a second head. "I thought you hated the Jötnar…" He said quietly.
"I detest that the fact I am one of them was hidden from me and I still feel uncomfortable identifying as one." Loki was still playing with his daughter's hair and refused to meet the inventor's gaze. "However, I cannot help what I am. I managed to overcome my self-image problems with my hermaphroditic nature as a youth, I can overcome the same problems my species has caused me."
It had never occurred to Tony that the God would have had an identity crisis over his gender. However, it did make sense; the confusion of being neither one sex nor the other could be enough to drive the mind mad without proper support. Maybe that explained yet another of the little pieces of the puzzle that was Loki: in the basest technical sense he was neither male nor female and it must have been a hard decision as a youth to decide which gender – if any – he identified with most and would therefore take on as his 'true' sex. Tony suspected that the trickster might have even been pressurized into making the choice.
It seemed that that experience had helped him with his Jötunn heritage, though, which was an unexpected silver-lining.
Evie had now turned around in Loki's lap, forgetting the film entirely and staring up at him with a hopeful smile. "Can I see? Please, Móhðy, please."
The God glanced at Tony and grinned. "Are you sure, Evie? I may give you nightmares." He teased gently.
The child folded her arms with an obstinate pout. "I'd not have nightmares about my Móhðy!"
Tony glanced between his child as his lover warily; he'd been under the distinct impression that frost giants were cold enough to give the unprepared frost-bite. However, he trusted Loki to have thought it through.
Evie's eyes widened to the size of saucers as her mother's skin flushed from its usual pale to a rich blue.
"Cooooool!"
"Literally." Tony couldn't help adding that; it came with the scientist territory. But the girl had summed it up pretty accurately to his mind. Loki looked stunning.
Blue, Tony had been expecting – he knew that much at least. What he hadn't considered were the marks etched across the Jötunn's skin, raised lines and whorls that danced over his brow and cheeks almost like tattoos. And the eyes.
Glowing red eyes.
It should have been terrifying rather than quite possibly the most incredible thing he'd ever seen. He had never truly considered just how far apart he and the trickster were. That not only was the God, well, a God and eons older than Tony could possibly imagine, but he was also from another world further away than man-kind could ever dream of reaching. In short, it had only just occurred to Tony that there was an alien sitting on his duvet.
As he was still trying to register all of this Evie was reacting like a typical six year old and immediately poked her mother's cheek.
"You aren't cold. I thought frost giants were cold." She looked thoroughly disgruntled that she hadn't had her hand frozen off.
Loki laughed and gathered the girl's hands up in his own blue ones. "I am cold, little bird, but I've put up an enchantment to protect you from it. Your father would kill me if he had to take you to the hospital for frost bite."
"You bet your blue butt I would!" The inventor managed to change 'arse' to 'butt' just before he said it. He raised his own hand and laid it on Loki's arm. The blue skin felt perfectly normal – not taking the raised markings into account – and was at the same temperature as a normal human. He stared at it in fascination for a few moments, then pinched.
"Ow!"
"Sorry, sorry, just wanted to see if the elasticity was the same…" Tony was too distracted to sound particularly apologetic. "Can I take a blood sample?"
"Not now." Loki glanced up at the TV that Jarvis had thoughtfully paused. "Don't you wish to get back to your film, Evie?"
And as simple as that the child was distracted, turning back to the movie and calling for Jarvis to continue playing it. With Evie not paying any more attention to them Loki returned to his usual skin-tone and Tony leant over to him.
"I'm making you go back to blue the moment she's asleep." His whisper promised everything carnal, and the tricksters eyes gleamed in response. Loki turned his head a little to capture the inventor's mouth in a quick, mostly-chaste kiss, Tony's hand cupping the back of his head.
"You two are gross!"
They broke apart laughing, Evie's indignant expression keeping the mirth going.
Loki couldn't remember ever being so happy.
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Of course, the happy little family bubble could only last for the night and he left early the next morning, after saying a fond farewell to Tony and his daughter – promising to be back come Christmas.
A weeks days later he was harshly brought back to reality.
He'd found an abandoned cabin some years previously in one of the more remote parts of Alaska and after making it a little more weather-tight, he returned to it perhaps two or three times a year.
It wasn't exactly cosy, but it had a bed, blankets and pillow and whilst chilly it was nothing a small fire couldn't help with. The trickster spent a few hours with his notebook, jotting down the ideas that were sluicing through his brain. As much as he tried to persuade both himself and Tony that his magic was entirely ineffectual against the chitauri it didn't mean he would ever stop trying to work at it. So far he had filled up countless books of notes and scribbles of every and anything he could think of that could help.
Initially he had wondered if Mjölnir was the key – after all, it had proved effective in the battle of New York. However, he scrapped the idea after only a few notes when realising that the hammer's innate magic hadn't been its key virtue in the war, but more that it was a dirty great hammer.
This time he was looking into the physics behind black holes and whether or not it would be possible for him to utilize a similar method of matter-absorption to combat his ineffectualness against the other-worlders. However, the research was showing quite plainly that once again he was hitting a dead-end and – short of sucking the chitauri home-world into a black hole – the ability to put a singularity to use was beyond his power.
It was infuriating!
He threw the notebook to one side with a frustrated snarl, a small part of his mind fixed on its destination so that it neatly vanished into the hidden-pocket that he used to store his valuables. It was difficult to tell what time it was by looking out of the window – so close to the northern hemisphere and in the winter it was permanently dark. However, the God knew that he still had over twelve hours before he needed to start worrying about the chitauri finding his Alaskan retreat, so curled up on the bed determining to get some sleep.
It had barely been four hours before he jerked suddenly awake, eyes wide as he stared around the bare room.
There was nothing untoward to be seen. A fire crackled in the grate – not something that would have woken him – and frost had covered the window. There was a complete lack of the danger that was humming through him. His magic was ringing like an air-raid siren, warning that all was not as well as it seemed and he half sat up, eyes narrowing as he tried to find what was causing the feeling of encroaching jeopardy.
The semi-raised position was all that saved him as a sudden explosion above him brought half of the roof down into the room.
The God of mischief wasn't one to be put out by such a thing as he gracefully rolled to one side, avoiding the timber beams and scanning the area to find out who and what was the cause. Most of the wall had come down along with the roof, leaving the small cabin open and exposed to the elements.
To his horror his gaze fell on the ten chitauri scouts, oblivious to the falling snow, that stood in a ring around the tiny lodge. How in Valhalla's name had they found him so quickly?! He should have at least had another six hours or so before they could successfully track him!
There was another explosion – were they using grenades? – that threw him from his feet and brought the sad remainder of the cabin to the ground. He hit the ice hard and rolled with the impact so that he didn't lose any momentum. It was second nature for Loki to raise his hands and try to shoot a retaliation blast of energy back at his attackers but he knew from experience now that it would be about as effective as throwing cotton wool at them. Instead he ducked as a whip tail snaked out at him and materialized his throwing knives.
One found it's mark in a chitauri soldier's throat and the creature fell, a wheezy shriek leaving it in the process. Two other were less deadly and bounced off thick armour, re-materializing in their owner's hands.
What were his options here?
Well, run, obviously.
He summoned his teleportation spell to his mind, a fail-safe so old and so trusted that it came as easy as breathing. Then…
Nothing.
No blur of vanishing landscape, no feeling of speed. He stayed exactly where he was, the magic dispersing hopelessly.
No. Nonononono! How was this even possible?
The trickster dove to one side, narrowly avoiding the spear aimed at his mid-section as one of the soldiers lunged forwards with the weapon. He desperately wove the spell again, only to find once more that whilst the enchantment worked perfectly in its execution, there was something, almost like a physical barrier that blocked the teleportation itself.
Shit!
He spun on one foot, sending up a spray of snow as he did so, and threw another three knives. Magic may be failing him, but it seemed that blunt force was still a viable option. The weapons didn't kill this time, but one chitauri dropped to it's knees, a blade sticking out of it's shoulder.
And the whole time his gaze was darting around, searching each and every one of the eight remaining soldiers to find an answer for his loss of teleportation. For the reason behind the invisible barrier that kept him tethered to the area.
His lack of attention to the moment, however brief, cost the trickster as a whip tail caught his ankle, throwing him to the floor.
By the Tree but it hurt! He had yet to work out what the hell the damn things were made of or powered with, but it seared through his trousers to burn into his flesh. With some effort he succeeded in kicking his leg free and tried to scramble to his feet, wounded ankle buckling under his weight.
"We have you now, Godling." The crow of victory sent a vicious stab of fury through the trickster.
Right. Magic useless, running not an option, weaponry not making enough of an impact, injured and likely to take on more hits.
Fine, he'd had worse odds.
Trying to stand steady on his weak ankle, Loki materialised his staff into his hands just in time to deflect a blow from a chitauri with the same form of weapon. He swung it low and was satisfied to feel it connect solidly with his opponent's leg, snapping the exoskeleton and bringing the monster to one knee. His phenomenal speed was still an advantage then, it seemed.
And then, as he kicked the wounded other-worlder out of his way and readied for the next attack, a suspicious lack of movement caught his attention.
On the edge of what was quickly becoming a battle ground was a lone chitauri that didn't seem to be doing anything more than just standing there and observing. Loki knew the species well enough to recognise that they would never send in any less than a warrior so the lack of action caused the spark of suspicion. What was it doing there?
The trickster was a whirl of movement as the remaining soldiers continued their onslaught – seven, he was at least down to seven of them. Not too bad: seven to one, technically feasible. He danced through his opponents, ducking blows, matching spear thrusts with his own glave and dodging the snaking tails of the two whips that were being employed. He took a blow to the shoulder that felt like it burnt down to the bone, sending agony shooting down his whole arm. Still not a problem, he could fight one-handed, child's-play.
His attention remained focussed on the strange statuesque chitauri on the edge of the skirmish, and when the searching tendrils of his magic tried to discern a purpose they were blocked so harshly as to almost throw him from his feet.
Oh
Oh!
The bastards! The fucking clever bastards! The technology that ran through their weaponry, that Loki had found was resistant to his magic, had been built upon to extend out beyond a physical parameter. They had worked out a means of projecting a…well, all Loki's usually quick mind could think of under the circumstances was to visualise it as a barrier under which his magic was blocked to some extent.
Obviously he'd been able to materialize his weapons, so it could only be a prototype, not yet fully capable of blocking the full extent of his powers. How long had they been planning this?! Once again the God was beginning to realise that he had severely underestimated the intelligence and ruthlessness of an enemy.
The shock of the realisation threw him off for just long enough for a whip tail to catch his cheek, not cutting deeply, but enough to warn him to keep his attention up.
So: options. They had strength in numbers, better weapons and a way of with-holding the better part of his magic. He had…A handful of throwing knives, a staff that only served as a blunt weapon and his native wit.
He'd faced worse odds…Okay. Maybe not in so many words. It was pretty bad.
The God managed to throw another soldier away from himself which gave him a few brief moments pause to take stock of the situation. Not good. His ankle was barely holding his weight, his arm was next to useless and there were still five more of the damn things to take down.
But Loki was not known for panicking when confronted with bad odds, and nor was he unable to think himself out of hopeless situations.
Think. Put the pieces together.
Five attacking chitauri, intent on taking him out to drag him back to their home-world in chains, and one that was standing to the side, not even watching what was going and seemingly the centre of whatever anti-magic (and he shuddered at using such a lackadaisical term) barrier was in effect. They obviously had hoped to take him out sooner than this since the one he was now assuming to be in control of the accursed device didn't have any back-up or body guards.
Perfect.
He feinted high, then spun low so that his staff effectively swept two of the chitauri off their feet. The sharp end of the weapon was rammed down into the chest of the nearest, smashing through both armour and exoskeleton to finish the creature off. Without breaking from his momentum the trickster leapt over the fallen body and raced towards the lone chitauri.
Of course, he couldn't expect the others not to realize and try to stop the manoeuvre. Making the most of the split second head start he drew three throwing knives and hurled them at his target. Overkill maybe, but by now he was committed and did not want to have to come up with another plan because of missing his shot.
The God's aim was true, and all three knives struck, sending the oblivious chitauri down in a spray of internal fluid that could never be called blood. Loki landed on top of the body in a crouch, eyes scanning for the device he could still sense blocking the majority of his powers.
Ah.
There in the dead alien's hands. If an earthly description had to be used then pocket watch would do. It was the same size and shape, and appeared to have an intricate gear system on the back that Loki itched to explore and didn't dare touch at the same time.
Instead, as the remaining soldiers leapt up behind him he drove the point of his spear through the delicate piece of machinery.
As he did so a chitauri struck from behind him, whip flicking out to curl tightly around the tricksters neck.
Loki was dragged backwards by the suffocating hold, his scream of pain silent as his windpipe was crushed. The implement burnt deeply into his throat so much so that he almost missed the sudden soundless percussion wave that alerted him to the release of his full powers.
The chitauri wielding the weapon hauled on it again, dragging the trickster across the hard ground, causing the whip-tail to tighten like a hangman's noose. He panicked, fingers clawing at his throat and fighting for a breath that just wouldn't come.
Instinct took over. Without conscious thought put into it the teleportation spell wrote itself across his mind again.
This time it worked.
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Tony was once-again playing around with ideas for Clint's arrows. This time he was carefully attaching prototype capsules to an arrow shaft that would possibly one-day contain a form of biological agent. It was a fine art to attach the right amount for the desired effect, whilst still keeping the weapon aerodynamic, balanced and easily storable.
He bent low over the work, laser cutter in hand as he tried to even up a jagged edge where one of the capsules had been soldered to the bottom of the flights.
"Sir, there appears to be an incoming energy source." Jarvis' voice caused the volume of the music playing to drop enough for the AI to be heard and the inventor looked up in mild curiosity.
"Energy source? Can you trace the-"
And all hell broke loose.
Tony was sent reeling back a couple of steps by the force of the concussion wave in the air as the empty test-zone he usually reserved for trying new suit components had something impact it with enough force to cause a crater in the concrete slabs.
The man would have liked to say that his first reaction was to call his suit and sound an alarm. After all, that would be the proper hero protocol and what a sane person would do.
However, sometimes instinct is just too far ingrained and can over-rule taught habits, no matter how essential to life said habits may be. Human evolution is a hard thing to fight and it was because of this that Tony's very first reaction was to peer cautiously over the top of his work bench, laser cutter held like a dagger in one hand – almost subconsciously.
"Jesus Christ!"
Caution was forgotten as he vaulted over the worktop, pulling off the clumsy heat-proof gloves as he did so.
Loki lay in the crater, bloodied and broken, his fingers struggling with the whip that was still curled round his neck, tight enough to garrotte him. His eyes were squeezed closed, desperately trying to force in a breath of air past his crushed windpipe, anything to stave off choking to death. He felt deft hands pushing his own out of the way, examining the damage before finding the loose end of the whip where it had been snapped from the handle as the trickster teleported.
"Easy, hold still, I've got you…"
The voice – Tony, Tony's voice he realised incredulously – was calm, but with a noticeable under-current of tension and fear. Loki felt a sudden easing of the pressure on his throat as the whip tail was carefully and deftly unwound. It had bitten deep into the flesh of his neck so that the last coil was pulled away dripping blood.
Air! Blessed air, finally! He half sat-up, desperately struggling for breath and feeling it burn in his damaged windpipe and depleted lungs as he did so. Tony's arm quickly curled around his shoulders, effortlessly supporting him as he coughed and gasped hoarsely, chest heaving.
"Slower, don't fight and try to breathe slower." The inventor's free hand moved to the trickster's chest, pressing firmly against his diaphragm when the God took another rasping breath and then slowly releasing the pressure so that he was effectively controlling Loki's respiration. He repeated the move a further four times, until he could feel the heaving breaths ease from borderline hyperventilation to a steadier rhythm.
"There, see? Much better and I don't have to attempt CPR."
Loki managed a wry smile, although couldn't find it in himself to laugh. "My thanks." They both winced at his voice – broken and hoarse as to be unrecognisable as that of the usually suave trickster. A glass of water appeared in his peripheral vision and he accepted it gratefully, giving a small nod to the automaton that had acted as the delivery boy.
Tony waited until the God had downed the whole glass before asking the obvious question.
"What the hell happened?" His voice was soft, concerned, fearful.
"What do you think?" His acerbic reply lost its bite along with its volume. The damage left by the near-strangulation made the trickster sound like he had a severe case of laryngitis.
"How did they find you?"
"I don't know, but they've been busy. They searched me out far quicker than usual and were able to compress the greater part of my powers." Loki shook his head hopelessly. "It's been nearly ten years since I first made contact with them. They haven't been idle in that time – their technology has advanced."
"Tell me the details later." Tony pulled the taller man back against his chest, leaning back against the base of the workbench behind him. Small tremors were running through Loki's body, his breathing still quick and rasping, and pulse still hammering. He was scared, and something that could scare a God was more than worthy of fear.
"Thank you…" The murmur was so quiet Tony almost missed it.
"Huh? For what?"
Loki rested his hand on the arms wrapped tightly around his waist. "For this. I wasn't thinking when I teleported here – I just wanted to get as far away as I could to a place of safety." He rested his head back against the inventor's shoulder with a sigh, fingers reaching up to trace the weeping wound around his neck.
"Hey, don't." Tony brushed the hand away to examine the deep cuts himself. "You said you can't heal what their weapons inflict? In that case these will need stitches."
"I'm fine."
"No you're not." Tony rested his chin on the God's shoulder, closing his eyes as he tightened his hold on the taller man. "You're not fine at all and I nearly lost you."
Loki let out a huffed sigh. "Sentiment." The whispered word had enough emotion to convey his true feelings through it without having to voice them.
"Yeah, let's not get into that discussion again." Tony was beginning to notice that the front of his shirt was feeling damp, that uncomfortable sticky wetness that he accorded to blood seeping through clothing. "Are you hurt elsewhere?"
"You know damn well I am."
Okay, okay, sheesh!" Tony rolled his eyes. "Don't mind me; I only saved you from choking to death and all." Without waiting for a reply he applied a little pressure to the God's back in an effort to make the taller man move. "Now, if you can still stand up I'll see what I can do about fixing some of this." He gave another little push that garnered no reaction. "You can still stand up, right?" He asked, half-jokingly.
No reply.
"…Loki?"
"I…My ankle. I believe it to be broken." The trickster admitted softly – not that he had a choice with the volume of his voice, all things considered.
"You can't fix it?"
"No. Not when it's been inflicted by those accursed weapons." Loki turned his head to glance at the inventor and the movement allowed Tony to see the deep cut running along his cheek.
Ironman didn't reply to that. Instead he extracted himself from behind the God, and looped the taller man's arm around his shoulders. "Come on then."
As he'd noted before, Loki was heavy and Tony wasn't quite tall enough to provide adequate support. However, they managed to make it over to the small camp-bed kept down in the lab for such times as when the inventor couldn't be bothered to go to bed. That was in fact a rare occurrence since fatherhood: he had learned responsibility.
The trickster sank onto the mattress with a grateful sigh that should have been funny, and instead was just worrying with how much pain he evidently was in. He didn't protest when Tony wordlessly helped him out of his shirt and brushed his hair back out of the way. The God heard the pained gasp from his companion once his torso was bared – the damage to his shoulder now visible along with the bloodied wounds that encircled his neck like some piece of macabre jewellery. He looked away, unwilling to see Tony's expression.
"Okay. I'll start with the injuries to your neck. Yeah?"
"That would most likely be the best place to start." Loki was still shivering – no doubt coming down from the adrenaline high the battle and near-death experience had caused. He stilled, however, at the touch of warm calloused hands against his back, rubbing small circles, soothing.
"Will local anaesthetic work on you? Bruce left me some in the med-kit for emergencies and I know how to use it."
"I don't believe so." There was a small amount of sadistic amusement in Loki's voice with his reply. "But you needn't concern yourself about it – I have proven myself more than capable of with-standing stitches without pain relief."
Tony winced. He had never once brought up the tiny, almost-invisible scars that dotted along the edges of his lovers lips, and this was the first time Loki had even faintly alluded to them.
"If you're sure…?"
Loki just glanced at him with an arched eyebrow that declared his amusement and scorn at the question. The ancient pagan God of mischief, capricious in every part of his psyche was not a stranger to pain.
Tony had a very well equipped medical kit in his labs – Bruce had insisted after realising quite what the inventor got up to – namely large explosions. Alongside local anaesthetic there were copious amounts of bandages, sutures and enough paraphernalia to give emergency first aid to most ailments up to and including smashing into a ceiling due to faulty thrusters. The inventor pulled on a pair of latex gloves, broke the seal on a sterilised needle – complete with thread – and gently angled Loki's face to get a better light.
The procedure took nearly half an hour – it was hardly something Tony was going to hurry and the wounds completely encircled the trickster's neck. Working carefully and methodically he sealed the deeper parts of the wounds and reached for the bandages. Once completing wrapping up the newly applied stiches Tony celebrated it by pressing a soft kiss to Loki's tense jaw.
"That's the lot of them. I'm afraid you do look something akin to Frankenstein's monster at the moment."
The trickster opened his eyes again and raised a hand up to press against the bandages, wincing slightly. "My thanks."
"Stop being so formal when you're sitting on my bed half-naked."
That drew a startled laugh from Loki and he looked up at the man with a small smile. "I'll admit that if we were to try anything right now your performance issues quips may be needed. I'm exhausted."
"To be honest I wouldn't want to try anything right now; not with your shoulder looking like that." Tony moved around to sit down next to the God and began examining the limb in question. "This looks different from the whip cuts." And by different he meant that it had sawed through the flesh and muscle until white slivers of bone were showing through. "What caused it?" He kept his tone light as he began to mop up the blood around it.
"Spear." Loki's voice was tight; the stiches had been well under his pain-threshold, but having the mortal poke around in an open wound that went bone-deep was beginning to push it.
The human heard the pain in the single-worded answer, so didn't ask anything more as he carefully finished cleaning the wound. Using the dissolvable stitches that were in the med-kit – and thanking his lucky stars that he knew his way around human musculature – Tony began to close up the gaping damage to the muscles within the injury. He tried to be as quick as was possible without losing focus on the important work under his fingers, silently admiring how Loki managed to remain so still and retain his stoic pride.
Once the inner tears and torn muscle were pulled back together and secured the man moved on to stitching up the skin over the wound to seal it all. Using the roll of gauze to hand he wrapped it around the God's shoulder and used a safety pin to secure it.
"I'm done." He pulled the latex gloves off and cupped Loki's cheeks with hands that were now beginning to shake.
The trickster had his head tipped back against the bed's head-board, eyes closed and pain drawing unforgiving lines down his face. He was breathing harshly – something that sounded all the worse thanks to his throat – his bared torso having acquired a faint sheen of cold sweat. However, the warmth of Tony's hands on his face seemed to rouse him and he opened his eyes to blink groggily at the man.
"That was…less than pleasant." He rasped.
"Sorry."
"No, it was necessary. I've had far worse."
Tony had a sudden recollection of the Hulk creating a Loki-shaped crater in his lounge floor – footage of the event had been acquired via a maliciously gleeful Jarvis. Yes. Loki was more than able to take a beating and then some.
"What's your worst then?"
"You most certainly do not want to know."
Ironman considered what he knew of the ancient Vikings and their brutality – inspired by the Aesir – the fact that Loki was immortal and therefore able to withstand pretty much anything and that he was half a million years old and would have possibly met with most species in the known universe; most of whom probably held grudges.
"Okay, yeah, y'know what? I actually don't want to know." He turned away to fiddle about with the med-kit, pulling out a plaster. "Hold still." The God didn't have much say in the matter when Tony efficiently applied the piece of fabric to the cut running down his cheek. "There we go. Just be glad it isn't one of the Hello Kitty ones I've got for Evie."
Loki raised an eyebrow, although any and all haughtiness was ruined by the plaster. "Our daughter is a fan of that pink little cat?"
"Actually no, I just bought them to annoy her."
The God laughed quietly at that.
"So, shoulder, neck, cheek. That leaves your ankle." Tony turned in the direction of the trickster's legs but was stopped by the hand on his upper arm. "What?"
"It's merely fractured; nothing you can do for now."
"You sure-?"
"I can tell the difference between a fracture and a break, thank you." The God smiled slightly, softening his harsh words.
"Mighty words from a wounded deity." The hold on Tony's arm tightened, drawing the man back towards the trickster.
"Oh just shut up for a moment, Stark."
The man didn't get a chance to reply as he was unsurprisingly pulled into a firm and very demanding kiss. Loki's hands moved up to hold the man's head in place whilst at the same time Tony's fingers tangled in the long black hair. The God tasted of blood and lingering fear but it didn't matter to Tony. He certainly hadn't wanted to admit how worried he'd been; seeing Loki choking to death in his lab. It was still concerning what they now knew about the chitauri.
"Missed you." He hissed into the trickster's mouth. Loki's grip took on a greater degree of desperation, breathing heavily as he moved away enough to reply.
"Thank you for all of this. You are my sanctuary; where you are is the only place I can ever feel safe."
It was the closest either of them ever came to saying the three little words that they never dared give voice. Maybe it was because they were finally aware of just how precarious their situation was but such sentiment was creeping in far more than usually.
"I will do whatever it takes to keep you safe." Tony whispered. "Whatever it takes."
"Don't make promises you can't keep, Tony."
The inventor huffed with laughter, resting his forehead against the God's. "I'm still working on various plans. And now that I've got that whip tail I could reverse engineer their power-source. Or at least have a go at it. I'll think of something." He closed his eyes in thought. "If they've enhanced their technology to search you out it's only a matter of time. You can't run forever."
"What would you suggest?" From Loki such a question would usually be sarcastic, but now he just sounded tired and hopeless.
"Tell the others?"
The God backed away in alarm. "No!"
"Loki, be reasonable; if the others know then they can help us beat back the chitauri!"
"No. They would never even listen to me." The God hissed. "They would rather hand me over than protect me! Even my dear brother would relish the chance to know that I will be unable to conduct my mischief anymore."
"Well I would talk to them first without you, of course! Sweeten them up a little. And Evie can back me up!"
"Yes. Up until the point your Director Fury realises that; A) He has leverage over me in the form of my child and, B) He has a half-frost giant in his hands whose physiology would doubtless be fascinating to his pet scientists."
Tony opened his mouth to argue that point.
Then a sleek grey shape invaded his memory; a nuclear missile heading towards Manhattan, with no thought as to the civilians there. He remembered there being no compromise as he flew up to meet it, knowing that the minds behind it couldn't care less if he nor all of the other inhabitants in the vicinity died or not.
"No, Fury wouldn't do that." He held up a hand as Loki tried to interrupt him. "But the council would do it without hesitation. And they've already shown a complete and utter lack of mercy." He rubbed a hand across his eyes. "Damnit, yeah. Okay, we'll leave off telling the others for a while. I'll keep working on beating their tech."
The God nodded slightly in agreement.
"You're so much trouble."
"And yet you keep insisting I come back."
Tony grinned teasingly. "For our daughter's sake entirely, I assure you." A thought suddenly occurred to him and he glanced down at the watch on his wrist. "Hey, you want to see her whilst you're here?"
For a long moment the trickster just stared at him blankly. Of all the things it looked like the chitauri attack may prove to be the best thing that had happened to him in a very long time if it meant he was able to see his daughter for an extra few moments.
"What sort of question is that?! But won't she be in bed?"
Tony's grin had widened as he watched the hope and joy blossom on the God's face. "She's in bed, but we have a deal that she can then read for half an hour before Jarvis turns out the lights, so she'll still be awake." He didn't even wait for his companion's answer and instead turned his attention to the room at large. "Hey Jarv, can you ask Evie to come down here? Tell her it's a surprise."
"Of course, sir."
Loki was still staring at him in faint disbelief.
"What? You didn't think that you could turn up here half dead and then get away without giving your daughter a goodnight kiss, did you?" The man asked lightly.
"I…Tony, I don't deserve you."
"Nope, but somehow you snagged me anyway. Not sure how that happened. Somewhere between throwing me out of a window and giving birth to our child I think."
"And still with the window incident."
"It was our first date, how could I forget it?"
Finally, finally Tony managed to achieve what he'd been trying since Loki had turned up: real and uncontained laughter from the trickster, easing out the deep lines of pain across his brow and chasing away the last vestiges of fear from the unexpected attack earlier.
Considering that for a few very long and very terrifying moments Tony had thought he'd lost the God, that he had been too late to save him, laughter was the best thing he's ever heard.
"Sir, Evelyn is at the door of the lab." Jarvis announced.
"Let her in, Jarv." From where they were sitting they couldn't see the large wall of glass with the double doors, but Tony recognised the sound of them hissing open. Even he wasn't so stupid as to give a six year old access to his labs and workshops.
"Daddy?" Evie rounded the corner, looking expectant and disgruntled at the same time. Her hair was a dandelion-like fluff around her head – probably due to static on the pillow-case – and she was wearing one of Tony's beloved Metallica t-shirts as a nightdress, the hem reaching well below her knees. "Why did Jarvis call me down here-" She froze when she saw the two men on the bed.
Loki gave her a hesitant smile when she just stared at him, before the girl seemed to accept what her eyes were telling her and screamed.
"Móhðy!"
She practically flew across the floor of the work-space, throwing herself onto the God so that she barrelled him over on the mattress.
And with his daughter's arms wrapped tightly around his neck and Tony sat beside them laughing cheerfully all of the aches and pains fell away. No worries, no fears and no concerns.
Loki was truly happy.
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