New Asgard, Present Time

"You need anything else?"

Loki placed the book he was reading face-down on his belly.

"No, I think you've covered pretty much everything." Loki suspiciously surveyed the spread on the table. "You can lock me in and let me out after a week and I'd probably still be eating through this."

Stephen looked at him contemplatively. "Or I could call them and cancel…"

"Honestly, Strange, I'm perfectly capable of entertaining myself while you…hang out with your guy buddies and do whatever it is you mortals do for fun." Loki blinked. "What are you doing anyway?"

A look of horror dawned on his face, "It's not someone's wedding, again, is it?"

"Well, Stark bought our son a Celestron AstroMaster 114 EQ Reflector Telescope for his upcoming birthday..."

"He did what for Stian a what?"

"Well…he's made it his mission to win the Favourite Uncle of the Year Award after all. I think he's trying to outdo Bruce's 'Scientific Explorer's My First Mind-Blowing Science Kit' and Thor's Connemara pony – "

"Oh my Lord..." Loki sank his head back against his tower of pillows.

"So we're going to go out onto the cliff, put the barbeque on, and do some –"

"Thor is going to be pissed."

"Stargazing."

"How delightful–" Loki could not help himself, " -ly inane."

Stephen's eyebrows shot up to disappear into his hairline.

"I'm guessing you won't be joining us for a drink or two, then," he asked dryly.

"I come from the stars," Loki said snootily. "Gazing at stars is like, you humans gazing down and marvelling at the earth at your feet."

"O-kay," Stephen drawled, putting on a show at being half-offended. He could not resist stealing a kiss though. "Okay, my sexy alien. Just don't ever let Stian hear you say that or you'll break his half-human, half-alien heart."

"That was a bit callous, wasn't it." Loki winced. He lifted his swollen ankles onto the pouffe gingerly. "Do me a favour and don't quote me on that. Stian's sensitive and clingy enough as it is, now that this is all starting to become real to him."

"I promise I'll try to keep him out of your hair for at least a few hours tonight." Stephen sat himself precariously on the edge of the pouffe and picked up Loki's ankles and proceeded to knead the soles of his feet gently. "Give you a chance for a breather."

Loki groaned softly, leaning his head back in pleasure. "Has anyone ever told you that you have magic hands, Doctor?"

Stephen frowned. "Maybe I should stay, Stian should be fine with Thor. You're making those funny faces again, the ones I don't like."

"Oh for Norns' sake, Stephen, it is nothing," Loki growled. "It's just those damn Braxton-Hickies."

"All the more reason why you shouldn't be alone. You are oblivious to your own body signals."

Loki took the high road and chose only to smile benignly. "One, I'm never alone. I have guards standing outside, and the Valkyrie just next door. Two, I am more than capable of taking care of myself. Three, it's not like you're on a different planet that you can't portal to me in a flash."

He stopped for a breath. "Four, please clarify as sweetly as you can what you meant by 'oblivious.' You have until tomorrow morning."

Stephen opened his mouth to speak but Loki stopped him with an elegant lift of his finger.

"Five, there's always the Mindspeak if ever I get bored of reading and feel like sex-chatting with you, which I never do –" Stephen had the nerve to pout, "So Strange, unless your wonderful foot massage is a lead-up to something more carnally fulfilling…"

Loki gently extricated his feet from Stephen's lap, "Go and have a good time. Aífe and I will keep each other company."

Stephen sighed glumly. He produced a slim-lined, shiny object out of thin air.

"Here."

Loki stared. And politely declined, "No."

"Loki, just humour me."

"You think you've got me wrapped around your little finger like putty, don't you?"

"That's not exactly how the saying goes..."

"The meaning is clear nonetheless." Loki sniffed, picking up his book once more, rubbing his hand absently where Aífe had responded by landing a barrage of kicks in his side.

"Loki, just –" Stephen was starting to become very frustrated. "Please."

Loki became very still.

"Is something going to happen tonight?" Loki's head whipped up, his green eyes wide with fear. "Is it happening tonight?"

Never had the Sorcerer Supreme looked so uncertain, though Loki could not quite tell if the uncertainty had to do with actually knowing or not knowing what fate had in store for them, or Stephen's dilemma whether to tell him or no.

Probably the latter.

"It's just a feeling," Stephen finally said.

There was no point in pursuing the issue further; Stephen's reticence was never without a purpose and Loki had no desire whatsoever to push his luck.

"Fine." Loki avoided his eyes. He focused instead on the object in Stephen's palm. "Fine. So what do I do with this abomination anyway?"

"All you need to know is the speed-dial feature. I'm one, naturally, Christine is two, three is me again…" Loki rolled his eyes.

Bruce is four, Thor is five," Stephen threw in casually.

"Oh for the love of –" Loki sighed. "And Six?"

"Dolly Dimple's Pizza."

That finally brought a smile to Loki's tight face. "That's thoughtful of you, Stephen."

Stephen got down on his knees next to the chaise-longue. He crossed his forearms and laid his head over them, his forehead brushing against Loki's throw-clad thigh.

"I've also tinkered with it and tuned it to your energy signature." Stephen gazed up at him. "You can activate it using your seidr, in the unlikely event that you have become incapacitated and unable to reach it manually."

Loki raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Oh my. You've really thought of everything, haven't you?"

Stephen turned his head and nuzzled his face into Loki's belly. "Baby, don't freak out okay? Your Daddy is a control freak. Because I love you."

"Oh! Which reminds me." Stephen straightened to search his pocket once more.

"Another gift, Strange?" Loki asked lightly, his heart still aflutter. "Gosh, I feel like it's my eight-hundred and ninetieth birthday all over again."

Suddenly in Stephen's palm was a small, gem-inlaid trinket box. Loki looked at it sharply.

"This is where you keep your sling ring, isn't it?"

"I have put that away, ever since." Seconds passed and it was obvious Loki did not intend on finishing his sentence.

"I know the memories associated with it weren't all good, but they weren't all bad either." Stephen grabbed Loki's hand, placed it in his palm, and closed Loki's fingers over it. "It allowed you to find me, when I needed you."

The inside of his mouth had gone dry as ash. Loki licked his lips.

"Goodness. One might think you're heading off to Vegas or something instead of just the backyard." Loki's words packed their usual bite, but his eyes were soft.

Still transferring the box between his hands back and forth contemplatively, a shadow loomed over Loki as Stephen rose to his full height. Strong, heavy arms wrapped around his neck from behind.

"Call me. Even at the slightest twinge."

Loki knew an order when he heard it, one he could abide only because it had come from his worrywart of a husband. "I still have a ways to go, Stephen. All I'll get from all this food is gas."

The arms around his shoulders tightened empathetically. "Especially especially if it's gas."

Okay, that's enough.

He forcefully extricated himself from Stephen's chokehold with one hand. "You're just as bad as your son. Now begone you."

"Love you."

"Yes, yes." Loki tilted his head to allow for a quick kiss and watched as Stephen headed for the door with a dramatic flourish of The Cloak, and he watched the door long after his husband had gone.

He looked down at his belly. "That's your father, honey. He may look scary but he will move mountains for you. So be a good girl and let's not give him anything to worry about tonight, alright?"

Aífe answered with a happy kick right in the ribs. "Ow."

New Asgard, way back when

Stephen's consciousness slithered dangerously in and out of awareness, and just when he thought he was going to black out, a familiar heat prickled along the line of his curved back.

He forced his eyes open, and dimly made out a familiar glow.

Emerging from the portal was a familiar figure.

"Prince Loki." The old man's face brightened in utter delight, belying the sheer scorn in his voice. "You honour me with your presence."

He released the handle of the knife still firmly stuck in the dead cattle and wiped his hands over his apron, smearing blood and black filth across the aged leather.

"Do forgive me if I do not bow before Your Highness. I have a bad back, you see."

Perfectly-poised, Loki shifted to lean his weight slightly on one foot, his gold and green armour glinting in the afterglow as the portal faded out behind him, his face unreadable.

"We have not been properly introduced."

The old man clasped both hands in front of him. "I am too humble to name myself."

"Yet not too humble to try and murder my family," Loki said pleasantly.

"Oh, it's just one of those things to do before you die." The old man shrugged a shoulder, returning Loki's smile with an equally pleasant, albeit nauseating smile.

The double meaning behind the sinister words was not lost on Loki. Unable to resist the urge any longer, he stole a glance at the writhing figure on the ground. Stephen's whimpers of pain had escalated to groans the longer the knife stayed stuck in the carcass.

"Please, can you cease doing whatever you're doing and spare us all this noise?" Loki waved a hand in the general direction of the dead cattle. "His pain threshold isn't as high as ours, I fear."

The old man seemed to seriously consider his request. Finally, "Alright. I'll humour you, Prince. Since you seem to care so much for the human."

"I don't." Loki made a show of scratching his forehead, feigning irritation. "I just can't hear myself think."

"Then a silencing spell will suffice," the old man said distractedly and with a wave of his hand, Stephen's cries abruptly cut off.

Fury bled Loki's face of all colour.

He lashed out and a crescent-like blade of seidr careened toward the old man with lightning speed like a scythe, but it slammed harmlessly into an invisible barrier that shimmered momentarily like a soap bubble upon contact with Loki's seidr.

Completely unfazed, the old man studied Loki coolly. From somewhere behind him, he produced a second blade; he twirled the knife in his hand twice, and without looking, he swung it backward in a downward motion and thrust it deep into the cattle's side. Not once did his gaze waver, not even when Stephen's erratic magic broke through the silencing spell and his scream of pain shattered the night.

Stricken, Loki started for Stephen, his outstretched hands glowing green with healing seidr –

"One spell out of you, one word out of turn, and your human lover's life is forfeit." The knife was now hovering mere inches over the cattle's heart.

Loki's steps faltered.

"You have me where you want me." Loki's face darkened. He tried not to show his panic at the sight of thick, red blood spurting from Stephen's mouth and nose. He hissed, "Lift it."

"Oh well. As you command, Highness." The old man took out only one of the knives. "That should slow it down a bit. I didn't want him to die before you get here anyway."

A sly smile spread across his face, "Just enough to crack his shield."

Loki's form went rigid.

"No…" Stephen moaned weakly. He reached out a bloody hand and true enough, he could not conjure even a wisp of magic, his fingers empty. He pressed his hand against his chest as it quaked with rattles.

The rattles of death.

"Yrsa, come inside, my sweet." The old man gestured at a shadow lurking outside by the window. "It's a bit crowded in here but we'll be burning a few dead bodies soon enough."

The shadow did not move.

"I will not tell you again, daughter-in-law," The old man said dangerously. "Come inside."

The figure at the window moved, and the side door closest to the long table creaked open. A hooded figure very reluctantly took a step inside, and into the light.

"Stian." Loki suddenly went weak in the knees. He could not breathe.

His eyes watered instantly at the sight of his son, still sleeping peacefully in Yrsa's arms, completely oblivious to what was happening around him. "No…"

There was no hiding the raw pain in his voice now, he could not play the game as though he had the upper hand any longer. "Why?"

"You killed my son."

A glazed look fell over Loki's eyes. His countenance wilted.

"I have killed many sons."

"You have not killed your own." The glee in the old man's voice was unmistakable despite his attempt to hide it behind a scornful snort. "Or have you?"

Loki did not answer. His shoulders slumped.

He stared at Yrsa standing in the far dark corner of the barn with his son against her bosom. Stian's face was largely hidden from view but his glossy black hair shone in the dark, and Loki's heart ached with such longing that he feared he was seconds away from erupting and burning the entire place to the ground.

Burn them all.

"May I see it?" The old man's plea shook him out of his reverie. "Your Casket?"

Loki must have not heard him right – "What?"

"The Casket of Ancient Winters." The old man repeated his request patiently. "I would like to see with my own eyes what my son gave his life protecting."

The silence that ensued was only broken in places by Stephen's painful gasps for breath.

"I will show it to you if you tell me who it was I am meant to have killed," Loki made a half-hearted attempt at a bargain.

To his surprise, the old man obliged. "Huldar Orrisson."

"Doesn't ring a bell."

"No, it wouldn't ring any bell, would it? He was but a foot soldier, not fit to kiss the ground you walked on," Orri spat. "But he was a good son."

"When I heard Huldar had died protecting the vault, I was proud. Devastated, but proud." He balled his fists by his side. "Until I learnt it was you who had let the Frost Giants in."

Loki reared his head.

There it was. The answer to all their questions.

The lone Einherjar who had died tragically in the vault at the hands of the Jotunn intruders on the day of Thor's coronation. The one whose life could have been saved if the Allfather had awakened the Destroyer just minutes earlier.

The one whose life would not have been in danger in the first place had Loki not foolishly given in to his fancies and betrayed Asgard in the most heinous, traitorous way possible.

"Show it to me, then," Orri urged.

Loki silently summoned the Casket and as the relic glowed in his hands, he could feel the ancient magic coursing up his arms and into his veins; he fought the change with all his might but the jeer on the old man's face proved the futility of his effort.

"What an ugly thing you are." Orri marvelled, impossible though it was to tell if he was referring to the Casket, or the blue-skinned, red-eyed Prince standing in front of him. "To have died for such a thing."

Loki's blood, icy in his veins, burned.

The ugly monster reared its head again and the Casket rumbled and thrummed under his palms, clearly responding to the madness stirring within; the Loki of old would have thought naught of it and decimated this entire place, razing it to the ground, flattening everything into an icy, desolate tundra.

The Casket disappeared with a sleight of his hand.

Loki took a step forward. "I admit to it freely."

"Kill me." He glanced out of the corner of his eye. Stephen was no longer moving, most likely unconscious. He would not entertain any other possibility. Not when Loki could still save him. "But let them go."

"That's very kind of you, Highness. But I'm afraid I must decline." Orri shook his head regretfully. "You see, I did want to kill you. For years, there was little else I wanted more."

"I am but an old man, Prince. Learning new things doesn't come as easily for me as it used to. But that's the thing about dark magic, isn't it. For the right price, anything can be learned." He raised a hand, and balled it into a fist. Almost instantaneously, Yrsa jerked upright. Like a puppet on a marionette's strings, she began to walk toward him.

Her feet may not be, but her eyes were her own; they stared imploringly at Loki.

Help me.

"When the King announced his abdication, I saw my chance. With your brother no longer protecting you, not only were you vulnerable, but any attempt on your life thereafter would then be construed as proof of the people's dissent against you, the next would-be King."

Orri frowned at Stephen's prone body. He tugged a little at the knife handle still poking out of the cattle's belly.

The jarring motion sent a shockwave of dark magic coursing through Stephen once more and it jolted him awake with a long, torturous cry.

Loki blanched.

Seemingly satisfied that Stephen was still alive, Orri continued his tirade under a self-deprecating guise. "It was the perfect opportunity. Had your dear Sorcerer Supreme been around it would not have gone as flawlessly. But after I slipped the poison into your food and thought you as good as dead, I regretted it."

He nodded at the stunned look on Loki's face. "I regretted letting you off easy."

Orri's voice had trailed to a whisper. "In my lust for blood, I had forgotten there was a fate worse than death."

As if on cue, Stian stirred and began to cry.

"No!" Loki started to rush forward, but with a snarl Orri held a knife over the cattle's heart once more –

The other hand, Orri extended to Yrsa expectantly.

"Father-in-law, please…"

"Give him to me."

"Please, he is but an innocent child!"

"Oh, Yrsa, you and your fragile, fragile heart," Orri sighed. He pointed his knife in Loki's direction. "He might as well have been the one who killed your husband, and yet you risk your life for him? And his bastard offspring?"

"I have sworn an oath upon entering the service of the Prince." Yrsa's lips trembled. "Prince Loki has changed. He saved us all, Father. I will not betray him any longer."

"And what of your vows to your husband?" Orri thundered.

"Huldar is dead, Father. Be his gentle soul in Valhalla or Fólkvangr I know not, but I know this." Tears ran freely down her face. "Huldar would not want you to do this."

"Enough." Orri's eyes glowed a sanguine red. With a twist of his wrist, Yrsa's feet began moving; despite the terror in her eyes, she clutched Stian closer toward her bosom.

"I forgave you when you thwarted my plan to murder the Little Prince," he purred. "Had you not always been a bit simple in the head, I would have flayed you for your selfless act, playing the Prince's human shield…"

"For honestly – " Orri seized her face, "How do you think this will pan out, sweet Yrsa?"

"You think you'll get back in your Prince's good graces?" Orri gripped her chin and violently wrenched her face to the side to face Loki, her form trembling with terror. "Will he take you back once he finds out that you're the reason his magic can't touch me?"

A chill ran down Loki's spine.

What?

Stephen let out a low, awful moan, but it sounded so far away; all Loki could think of was how he could be this helpless. Not only were his hands tied, but his magic too?

Orri wrenched Stian out of Yrsa's arms and with the strength of three men, hurled her across a distance of twenty feet, and as her head slammed into the wall, it gave a loud, resounding crack and she slumped bonelessly to the ground.

Without thinking, Loki leaped forward, brandishing his daggers. His only thought was Stian. He needed to retrieve Stian, whatever it took.

But Orri moved at such speed that should have been impossible for someone his age, and with a gesture of his hand, a plane of dark energy erupted from the ground amid an earth-shattering roar.

Loki collided with the shield and instantly felt his seidr wane upon contact. He gasped, and pulled back before the sucking force could latch deeper into his core and drain him dry.

"For the love of your son, just kill me, Sorcerer!" He screamed, his seidr lashing out wildly and sending metal pails, milker devices and heavy collection tanks barrelling into the walls, and the barn shuddered. Orri dropped Stian onto the ground as he grabbed the long table for support, and Stian's cries escalated into screams of terror.

Orri stared at Loki, now on his hands and knees.

"You have accrued a blood debt, Highness. I lost a son and Yrsa lost her husband. You can pay however you so choose." His raspy voice suddenly sounded so very tired. "A son or a husband."

Loki could not tear his eyes from Stian. So close yet so far. When he spoke, his voice was hollow. "I have no husband."

"Yes, for who would want you?" A savage grin. "But your human bedwarmer is close enough. Now, Prince. Choose."

Loki wearily climbed to his feet. He swayed. Now that he was giving in to exhaustion, he was starting to feel the lingering effect of the drug Stephen had slipped him. He shook his head. He needed to snap out of it. He needed his clarity.

"Can't decide? Spoilt for choice?" Orri misconstrued his gesture, but did not seem particularly eager to ask for clarification for the glee had crept into his voice once again, "Very well. I'll just have to kill them both."

He raised the knife high above the cattle's heart. "Starting with your paramour!"

"Stop!" Loki rasped. "Stop."

"Loki…" Stephen murmured. His body had gone cold. The pain had numbed him to the point where he could almost feel it no longer. Loki had better not choose him, Loki must not choose him…

He was dying anyway.

"Loki…Stian..."

But Loki was not listening.

His hand shook as he pointed at the trembling figure curled in a foetal position on the ground. "Release him."

"No trickery, Prince."

"I give you my word, if you will give me yours." Loki's voice was very soft, barely audible over Stian's shrill cries.

"Spare the human, and you can slit the very throat in your grip."

"Loki, what the fuck are you saying?" With a sudden burst of energy, Stephen howled, his voice raw with grief and reawakened agony alike. He coughed and spat a great gob of fresh blood.

"You would give up your son."

"I'll make another." Tears filled Loki's eyes.

"Loki, you can't!" Stephen gasped.

"I accept." Orri sounded genuinely awed, in that disbelieving way one would adopt when years of hard work finally came to fruition.

"I am a man of mercy." The gnarly hands hauled Stian off the ground by the neck, muffling his cries as he sputtered and choked. "Your human, for a nice clean slit."

"Stian!" Stephen tried to reach for his son, but his magic was no longer responding, no longer answering the command of a dying man.

Stephen saw a single tear fall onto the ground as Loki's knees came into his direct line of vision. He felt a knuckle brush lightly against the corner of his lips where he knew blood was trickling sluggishly, his mouth so filled with blood he could no longer feel his tongue.

"Yes," he heard Loki whisper, more to himself than to anybody else and Stephen felt something in his chest break.

Stian.

"Loki…" His own tears ran hot down the side of his face, seeping into the ground.

My Stian.

He felt the dark, ancient magic stir the air as Orri muttered the guttural words to a spell, felt the rough brush of Loki's lips against his temple –

Our Stian.

And never had Stephen cursed the sudden lifting of the excruciating pain in his belly and the return of spontaneous breathing, for with the abrupt jolt of mental clarity that followed, came the crushing, unspeakable agony twisting his heart as Stian wailed and wailed and wailed

"Close your eyes, Stephen," he heard Loki whisper, could feel his seidr enveloping him in a green cocoon of healing energy, and still his child, his precious little boy wailed

And abruptly Stian's cries ceased.

An unspeakable fury flooded every fibre of Stephen's being.

And the Sorcerer Supreme screamed in rage.

How could you, Loki?

The feel of warm flesh in his lap did nothing to assuage his rage, and as though he had lost all semblance of rationality, he blindly lashed out a hand to strike, for never had he felt such maddening fury, such hatred toward the person he supposedly loved

And Stian erupted into cries once more.

What?

Stephen forced open eyes bleary with grief, his heart thundering like a mad horse in his chest; he gasped against the tears seeping into corners of his lips as his mouth worked to form words, the sharpness of the salt on his tongue reeling in his awareness like the crack of a whip.

What is this?

"Stian?"

A dream? Alternate reality?

A time loop?

Stephen gathered his son, warm and screaming and alive, into the cradle of his arms.

Something was not right, he thought dimly.

Stephen raised his head.

The realisation that what he held in his grip now was none other than Loki seemed to stun Orri just as much, and the blade slipped from his hand, landing silently on the ground and sending a fine spray of blood across the hay.

Loki and Stephen's eyes met.

How peculiar it was that the blood from the gash in Loki's throat seemed to spurt in time with every beat of Stephen's heart.

Loki raised a trembling hand, and a fiery portal flared to life.

"Loki, no –"

A sad, sad smile, with just the tiniest spark of old mischief.

It was payback time, was it not, for Stephen had pulled the exact same trick before, on the very first day they met.

"Bye-bye."

With Stian clutched tightly in his arms, Stephen lunged for Loki, but the portal got to them first.