Life is never gentle

by Cip

No-one ever said life was kind or gentle and Tony is about to find out the hard way just how difficult it can be. And this time he can't call on the Avenger's for help and can't tell Pepper the truth - he has to do this alone, and that thought is terrifying. FrostIron, warnings inside.

49. Chapter 49

In the fury of the battle Stark found a moment of total heart-stopping silence.

Lead filled his stomach, a painful, heavy clench that brought nausea with it as his brain raced to catch up. Rationales, reasons and excuses were jostling to be heard: head injury, exhaustion, bloodloss, confusion, psychosis. There were any number of reasons he was seeing what he was seeing. There were any number of reasons he had just heard that voice

Maybe he had died too.

"Sir!" It was Jarvis who had to drag him back to the situation at hand; taking over the suit momentarily to dodge Tony out of the way of a Messerschmitt. The pilot waved cheerfully as he shot past. The sheer absurdity of the image made Stark try to grapple hold of the confusion and work out exactly what was happening.

The sound of the battle had changed below. As Ironman looked down, he could see the fog spitting out armament and men in all directions. Some looked familiar in terms of uniforms and equipment but the majority were museum pieces. He watched in disbelief as a cohort of soldiers on horseback galloped down the street, all dressed in Roman armour.

They followed by a slower group of men on foot. Different clothes, different weapons and marching steadily in neat rows, each one playing a set of bagpipes. Tony was only aware of the instrument as something in parades and ceremony, never used in its full capacity. Designed to be heard above battle, this was the bagpipes in their natural habitat. If he had been in a better state of mind, he would have been surprised that the clothes didn't match his stereotype of bagpipe players. However, comparative historical costuming was not the most interesting factor in the situation.

The Scots marched on, and all Ironman could do was stare.

"Has anyone got a clue what the hell is going on?!" Rhodes sounded as blind-sided as Tony was feeling. "Who are all these people?!"

"And why are most of them using swords!? No guns!" Bucky got straight to the point. There was a lot of ancient and therefore not necessarily useful weaponry pouring onto the streets.

"Panzers have guns." It wasn't the most inspired thing Stark had ever said, and the words had a dreamy quality to them. The German tank was ripping up the tarmac as it rumbled out of the fog, deceptively quick for such a ponderous-looking vehicle.

"There's a Panzer?! Who invited the 1940's?!" Of course, Bucky would have seen the things in action back in the day.

"And a Churchill." It wasn't beyond the scope of imagination to put a Panzer and a Churchill in the same frame of mind, but usually they would be shooting each other. These two tanks, however, were lining up side-by-side and fixing their lines of sight on the on-coming Orks.

"Can someone please explain why there is a group of chariots in Times Square?!" Natasha sounded like it was a considerable inconvenience, which all things considered it probably was.

"Do they have guns?"

"No they fucking don't! They have Tutankhamun!"

In fact they didn't, it was Thutmose III, but no one would fault Natasha for not knowing that. A squadron of New Kingdom war chariots were charging their way across the square, forming a solid line between a small group of Orks and the fleeing civilians.

And still all Tony could hear was that voice ringing in his ears. Because there was no way this could be happening, and no way there were the armies of the ancient world thundering out of the thick fog and no way he was hearing Loki again.

Loki was dead. And dead is forever. And there was no way the trickster could be there. He had seen him die, felt the blood in his hands. Hel had taken him herself, had laughed at any plea the great Ironman could make.

A Vulcan Bomber distracted him from the shaky train of thought as he had to dive to avoid being clipped by a wing.

Loki. Romans. Tanks. Egyptians.

"Can someone please explain what the fuck is happening?!" Tony didn't catch who exactly had shouted that particular question, but everyone was yelling things along the same line so it didn't really matter as such.

"This is worldwide!" That was Fury, trying to keep some semblance of control over a situation that couldn't even be fully described. "This ...Whatever the fuck this is, it's happening worldwide!"

The readouts Jarvis was providing corroborated the claim: the same strange banks of fog were forming across the planet and spitting out the same eclectic mix of ancient and nearly-modern soldiers. There was no logic to it either – no geographical or historical reason for who was popping up where, just sheer bloody chaos.

"Sir, there is an energy signature matching the Bifrost appearing in New Mexico."

Tony didn't bother to respond to that little bit of information. He hadn't even been aware that Asgard had managed to get the Bifrost up and working again. Jarvis had to dodge him out of the way of oncoming fire again and the jolt of stomach-churning movement finally unscrambled his head enough for him to realise that just hanging in mid-air in a bright red suit probably wasn't the smartest plan.

"Someone tell me what the fuck is going on!" Fury again, taking over the channels to express his displeasure.

Ironman touched down on the roof of the nearest skyscraper, stumbling on the landing as he kept his eyes trained down on the streets. The Hudson was in full view from where he stood and he could see the Arizona, all twelve gun-turrets firing to cover the landing of the smaller Viking vessels that had flanked her. Behind her, other large ships were appearing and laying down covering fire to keep the river banks clear.

Dragging his gaze away from the river, Stark could see soldiers of various eras and nationalities spilling across the streets. Directly below him a group of people in what could only be the uniforms of the American Civil War were busily setting up a defensive barricade at the entrance to the building. There was a solid mix of North and South working together.

"Sir, the Helicarrier is in the air."

"The what?!"

But the engines were already confirming what Jarvis had said. The familiar thrum of the four turbines of a Shield Helicarrier, now approaching from the distance. The only one that still remained was the shrunken little thing that was securely locked in the Stark Tower labs so that meant someone somehow had built yet another one. Or...

"Jarvis, did you give my toy Helicarrier to Fury?" With everything else in the world so broken and fucked-up and just plain crazy, Tony was almost relieved to focus on something so mundane.

"Well, you weren't exactly using it and he asked very nicely."

"When was this?"

"About two months ago. And I didn't say anything because it didn't seem important at the time."

"Kinda important." From memory it had been air-worthy, but the weapons hadn't finished being installed. Given Fury was apparently bringing it into the fray Tony could only assume said installation had been finished.

Or rather...

Finished was a small word for what had been done to the huge ship.

Fury stood in place at the helm, staring out at the panoramic view of the city below. Whilst he may not have had Stark's input, Jarvis had been more than obliging with setting up the operating systems and weapons installations. The crew was made up of both Shield and Hydra and at this point it really didn't matter who was who, although Hill was keeping a close eye on all parties.

The vantage point didn't particularly make any more sense to the outlandish situation. However, when a vintage harrier jet made an approach to the Helicarrier runway Fury allowed it to land. Hell, at this point if ghosts wanted to help them defeat an alien army they'd run with it.

The jet made a smooth landing, staying just long enough for one of the two personnel inside to jump out, before taking off again. The Helicarrier deck crew let it go – all eyes on the new acquisition to the ship.

Strawberry blonde hair in a tight pony-tail, smart suit and sporty trainers that didn't quite match the power-shoulders. Fury grinned broadly as he let her in to the helm.

"Glad to have you aboard, Ms Potts." The words were broadcast across the whole network. "Care to fill us in with what the hell is going on here?"

"Nice to be back." Pepper wasn't immediately familiar with the Helicarrier, but took her place next to Fury as it gave the best view.

"Pepper!? Pepper is that you?"

"Pep?!"

"What the ever loving hell!"

The barrage of comments overlapped each other, but Pepper got the gist of how bemused and pleased everyone was by her sudden appearance. She looked across the array of screens that mapped out the city below them, easily identifying what was what.

"Mute please." Jarvis had installed the Stark-tech systems so not only were they familiar to work with, but responded neatly to her pre-programmed commands. "Right. We don't have the time for long explanations. I'm back, yes, hello everyone. So, the plan is simple enough; anyone with the firepower to repel the Orks, do so. Everyone else, shields up and protect the civilians."

"Shields up?" Fury echoed incredulously. "The grand plan is pitting some tiny-ass Viking shields against alien plasma technology?!"

"If you don't like the plan, you are welcome to come up with another one." And it was Loki's voice on the comms again, as impossible as the first time they'd heard him, but slightly more believable after hearing Pepper too.

Fury was very very good at taking the absolute impossible and just rolling with it. "Oh good. You're also suddenly not dead. What's the end game here?"

"Draw Thanos out. Bring him to the battlefield in person."

"That's a pretty stupid fucking plan. We can barely kill the Orks as it is and you rock up here with a few million dead dudes with swords thinking you can, what? Sneak up on Thanos and stab him?!"

There was a laugh, Loki at his absolute sarcastic best. "Something a little more refined than that, I would hope."

"Sir! We're still getting that energy signal from New Mexico!" Hill looked up from her console, ignoring the otherwise quite emotional situation going on with Pepper's arrival. Friends or not, she was a Shield agent and had to compartmentalise on the job.

"What the hell is it now?!" Fury's question was directed at the world at large since it was unlikely anyone in his vicinity would have an answer.

"That would be the reinforcements." Loki offered.

"There's more?!"

"Energy readings are consistent with the Bifrost, sir!" Hill added to the confusion.

That wasn't something anyone had expected apart from – apparently – Loki. The general consensus had been that Asgard was keeping its continued existence hidden from Thanos hence why Earth hadn't evacuated there.

Given the world-wide-battle situation, Loki didn't attempt to disabuse them of that notion. There simply wasn't the time to explain, and they needed a lot of time to go down the tangents that explaining would require. For a start, no-one on Earth had yet met Narfi, so explaining that he had gone on to Asgard to inform them of the situation wouldn't be of much use without going into that whole backstory. It had been a spur of the moment plan on Loki's behalf as it was – at least let the Asgardian's and refugees now living there know what they were attempting on Earth. And if they wanted to help, the more the merrier.

He hadn't anticipated Narfi to have convinced people quite this quickly, but Odin's long-dead grandson suddenly reappearing – along with Loki's own magical signature returning – would probably have been quite persuasive. And a planet-wide battle for the very survival of the Nine Realms was exactly the sort of thing that had the Asgardian's spoiling for a fight.

It was almost a shame that the Bifrost site was deserted and therefore there was no-one to see the area erupt with light. Odin led the arrival with Sleipnir, both in armour and Gungnir in hand. He was flanked by the remnants of his household soldiers and they in turn were followed by those of Asgard – realistically most of Asgard – who wished to fight. And they weren't alone.

A dragon soared out of the beam of light, dwarfing everything in the vicinity. One of the few survivors of Muspelheim, it had a grudge it intended to settle. There were Jötnar with spears of ice in hand, a sharp contrast to the fiery dragon above them and then the engineers and warriors that had made it off Nidevelier. The tattered remains of Alfheim's and Vanaheim's armies brought up the rear. Whilst the Nine Realms had been decimated by Thanos the scattered refugees and survivors who had flocked to Asgard were now eager for any chance of some payback.

The Bifrost site was far enough away from any built-up areas that there weren't any antagonists in the immediate vicinity. However, a streak of light through the sky signified Thor's arrival to lead his people to the fight.

"Father! He saluted Odin with Mjölnir

"Thor." The king was smiling grimly. "We should have always known Loki would find some way to subvert all expectations."

The humans may well have been completely thrown by what was going on, but the Asgardian's were far more familiar with the utterly bizarre. Whilst they would hardly have predicted things were going to go in this direction they were also far from surprised.

Odin looked back at the assembled armies of the Nine Realms. Most of the people behind him had been to war with each other at various points in their histories and had only barely made an uneasy peace during their refugee status. Now they had a reason to rally.

The king raised his spear over his head.

"Ragnarok!"

The cry was carried across the host, with the dragon roaring along.

Ragnarok

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The plan seemed just too simplistic, but seeing it in action changed things a little. Sam was the first one to really figure out how exactly some of the older warriors were going to be useful. He'd landed to briefly find his bearings and was in a classic position of wrong place wrong time when an Ork burst out of the building next to him, roaring in a way that put the Hulk to shame.

"Oh shit!" It hadn't seen the Falcon, but instead had its sights set on the small gaggle of civilians who had run out ahead of it. However, even as Sam tried to cycle what little ammo he had left to find something useful someone else got there first.

A young man went hurtling past him in a blur of finely worked animal pelts and took a flying leap up onto the Ork's back. He looked tiny up there, even more so as he hacked industrially away at the creature's head with a flint hand-axe. The Ork simply reached up and swatted him down like a wasp at a picnic. The man hit the tarmac hard, rolled a few feet then dispersed into mist as the impact killed him.

As far as Sam could see it initially looked like a senseless waste – after all, what hope could one Mesolithic hunter-gatherer have against the aliens. However, he then realised that that wasn't the point. The Ork had stopped, for two whole seconds it had stopped its pursuit of the civilians and paused to brush the annoying little man from it's back. Two seconds that had allowed a small band of what were apparently twelfth century Teutonic Knights to get in place with their shields in close formation to provide a second barrier.

The Ork blasted them out of the way. Another two seconds. A nineteenth century cowboy – Stetson and all – was on horseback, evading the next few plasma bolts until he too was finally mown down. Another six seconds had passed.

And the handfuls of snatched time had been enough for the civilians to vanish from it's line of sight. And just enough time for a modern military member with a Stark-plasma gun to step smartly out from behind the next building and shoot its head off.

There was no way that anyone without serious fire power had a cat's chance in hell against an Ork but they didn't need to. That was what Loki was providing them with, that was the beauty of the plan. The dead army weren't there to add any significant weight to the fight – they were there as distractions. Pure cannon fodder to shield those who were actually able to make a difference.

And there were millions of them.

Across the world Loki's army were taking up the task of distraction. Drawing fire away from the living long enough for someone with a decent weapon to then do some real damage against the attackers.

This was causing some issues with various world-wide militaries who were suddenly confronted with large numbers of people very eager to help but with mostly no concept of modern warfare and weaponry. And there was no rhyme or reason as to who was where either, which led to such circumstances as Henry V of England and Kaleb of Axum leading a triumphant cavalry charge together through Kiev - the sheer number of soldiers and horses sowing confusion amongst the Orks.

It was slightly less chaotic in the air when another much-loved voice appeared on the comms, confidently directing the scores of aircraft that were bursting into existence.

"Okay guys and gals, I want anything post 1970's with targeting tech to get in there and hit them where it hurts. Bombers, keep yourselves to city margins, we're aiming to avoid civilian casualties. Anyone who feels they can bank well enough get down into the streets and cause a distraction." Barton was hanging out the side of a Sea-king helicopter, surveying the city below as he gave out the directions. "If I've got any Blackhawk's out there I want you on evac. We're aiming to get anyone out of the heat that we can."

"Clint!" Rhodes was close enough to actually see him but the others were casting their gaze skyward when they heard his voice.

Natasha was too much of a consummate professional to let a distraction put her in danger, but she took a moment to duck under a shattered door out of sight to just breathe. Because Clint was here and back and that meant there was the smallest chance things could actually be okay because with Clint she was invincible.

They had a chance. It was small and fragile, but it was hope and hope was powerful.

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It would have been impossible for Evie to have missed the extraordinary situation that was occurring in the battle directly outside. If the voices on the comms hadn't informed her, the Memphis Belle flying past the window would have done it. It also wasn't exactly going to escape her notice that her mother was apparently back from the dead and leading an army larger than had ever been seen.

In the face of the unbelievable, the ridiculous and a situation that was still life-threatening regardless of the bizarre additions to the battle-field, the young woman had chosen to concentrate on the job at hand. A lapse, a thought of what and who was out there and the emotions would be too much to handle. The last thing she wanted was to lose concentration when she had the twins in the room with her. Instead, all concentration was focussed on manning the controls for the large gun-turrets on the Tower roof.

Emotion could happen later.

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One large piece of falling masonry from a building landed on the crew of a German field gun, leaving only one young man standing. He huddled down amongst the sandbags that surrounded the Feldkanone, hands clamped over his ears as the bricks and mortar crashed down all around him. Ghosts or not, if they were hit by what would kill a living person, they dispersed like the fog they had appeared from. The young German now looked up at the large gun, one person to a piece of machinery that needed about seven people to properly operate. Further down the street the Orks that had been held back by it's shells sensed a weakness and began to move forwards.

"Hey, need a hand?"

The lad had died at nineteen years old in 1915 but even so he knew Roman armour when he saw it.

"Uh..?"

"Budge up!" The cheerful voice was accompanied with about five soldiers in ancient armour dropping down into the corral of sandbags. There wasn't really a direct translation for 'budge up' in either German or Latin, but Allspeak provided a reasonable equivalent.

"Right, you're in charge now kid; tell us how to work this contraption!"

"Uh..."

The same messy cross-over between historical periods was happening everywhere; Vikings picking up discarded guns, Aztec Eagle Warriors hitching lifts on the sides of tanks, a lone Celtic Druid somehow finding his way onto a Lancaster bomber and making good use of the machine gun after being quickly shown how.

"I've got the 617 squadron, where do you want them?" Clint was making good on his avian name, perched up on a high vantage point and directing the various air forces in the vicinity. He couldn't be expected to co-ordinate the air support worldwide, but he could certainly provide cover for the local area.

"Fabric district is taking a beating! What's the squadron carrying?" Bucky answered, immediately familiar with who Hawkeye was talking about.

"Uh...bouncing bombs and some Tall Boys."

"Send the bouncers, we don't need earthquake bombs flattening everything!"

"Got it!"

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"I could do with some help down here!" Steve ducked a piece of falling masonry and in doing so his ankle tangled in loose electrical wires from a downed streetlamp. The stumble saved him as a bolt of plasma shot past just where his head would have been. "Any time now, someone!"

"Hold on, old chap, we're on our way." It wasn't a voice he knew, but Loki had opened the comm channels up to everyone and some of the more modern newcomers were using it too. "We'll need a visual."

With no idea who it was coming to his rescue, Captain America managed to extricate himself from the rubble and waved his shield over his head. This had the disadvantage of letting the Orks know exactly where he was, but that didn't cause the problems it could have done as a hail of bullets suddenly pushed them back.

"We've got you, Captain!" It was an accent to rival Loki and Thor's – that old-school posh British that was usually only heard in old media clips. However, Steve hardly paid it any mind as it was nearly drowned out by a very familiar and very surprising sound. He turned, facing back up the street in the direction that the bullets had come from and staring open mouthed at the sight approaching.

Two Spitfires were living up to their names as they roared over-head, Merlin engines exactly as he remembered. However, louder, almost drowning them out with it's own unique scream, a German Stucka was diving down, using their covering fire to get in close to the Orks position. It took a plasma bolt to it's port wing in doing so, trailing such a thick cloud of black smoke that Steve lost sight of all three aircraft.

The explosion threw Captain America from his feet, and he instinctively brought the shield down to cover from the worst of the blast wave. He was close enough that someone without the serum wouldn't have walked away from it. So close all bombs are just noise and mess, but he could reasonably guess that a 550 pounder had just been dropped on the Orks ugly heads. Uncurling from behind the blast-scorched shield he was just in time to see the three planes triumphantly rising behind the cloud of dust and smoke.

"Uh...thanks guys."

"Don't mention it!" The response had that fuzz around the edge of the voice that suggested it was being translated through AllSpeak – one of the German pilots was likely the one replying. As Steve watched the three banked in perfect formation and the Stucka began another dive – her distinctive battle scream now accompanied by the billowing smoke from her wing. "You may wish to leave the area, my good man."

A good plan and one the Captain could see sense in. He had stood under enough Luftwaffe bombing raids to want to avoid what the deceptively small plane could achieve. As he scrambled on through the ruined street there was another blast behind him suggesting the gunner was a damn good shot.

He was heading towards the river, he realised. The skyline was so different now it was hard to orientate. At ground level it was even worse – twisted wreckage and shattered glass making any familiar markers impossible to find.

There was a chatter of plasma fire from the end of the street, more Orks had taken up a position in one of the buildings. Steve was surprised to realise it had to be the Colgate Centre, taking a moment to recognise it with the iconic clock in ruins. The ground under him shook as there was an answering retort from the river, a tremendous battery of rounds that took the remaining glass from any windows still standing. Steve brought the shield up to fend off the debris.

A piece of metal – maybe once a billboard – shifted and he spun to face it, gun raised before he even thought to do so.

Three terrified faces peered out at him with a fourth just visible behind them staring sightlessly at nothing.

"Go!" He gestured with the gun barrel back down the way he had come, hoping against hope that the planes had cleared the Orks that had been there. Two of the people did so, shouldering past the flimsy cover to stagger their way back up the street. The third remained, tugging at the arm of the corpse. The Rogers pulled himself over the rubble in time to throw his shield over the both of them as another ground-shaking rumble brought bricks down. He grabbed the girl – younger than Evie, still just a kid – by the shoulder and bodily threw her out of the little hidey-hole in time for it to crumble down, crushing the body.

"Go!"

She was wailing, grief, fear or some other nameless emotion. An errant plasma shot hit the broken road beside her and the spray of molten tar finally kicked in the flight response.

Steve watched her go before forcing his way on towards the river bank. Whatever was shooting at the Orks had done its job; right at the quay-side two were scattered in pieces, a third trying to claw its way towards the water. The Captain dispatched it with his own plasma gun.

A deafening retort made him drop to hug the ground. But the rounds sailed high over his head, the target far in the distance. A breeze blew the smoke clear for a second and he caught a glimpse of the Arizona sitting like a proud queen at state, all turrets firing. The upturned hull of a second ship was still just showing above the waterline where a companion must have recently gone down.

Beyond them the river-side buildings of Lower Manhattan were an inferno. A gas-line must have been hit to cause such a blaze, and with another curl of wind Steve could feel the heat of it. There couldn't have been anything living – human or Ork – that should survive it, but as he scrambled to his feet he could see other smaller boats in the water. Tiny longboats, Viking and Saxon, were brimming with people as they made their way towards his bank. The state of the sails on most of them suggested that this wasn't the first trip across the river either and oars flashed in the dirty water. Some people even had the heart left to wave.

The infallible human spirit.

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"Miss Evelyn, Orks have breached the ground floor and the three basement levels. Power and communications may fluctuate."

"What?!" Evie had been focussed on the aerial bombardment; conserving the ammunitions, providing cover for anything human that flew past and keeping the Orks off the roof. She hadn't considered that the automated ground defences may fail. "What can we do to shore up the elevators and stair wells?"

"Blast doors are down. All service entrances are covered."

"And the basements?" Usually used as storage areas. "Strong enough to hold if Dad's car collection goes up?"

"More than."

She focussed on the screen for a moment as a squadron of mixed aircraft flew past, but they were holding their own. "Anything I can do from here? Do we need to get to the panic room?"

"No, all stable for now. I will keep an eye on –" Jarvis stopped mid-sentence. When he didn't finish the girl looked up at the ceiling briefly.

"Jarv? I'm not liking the silence! Where are they?" They couldn't get up the tower – well, they could but it was easier to get into the basements than through the blast doors. Evie tried to think what the hell else could be down there. They were the basements for gods sake, there was nothing down there! She turned away from the armaments system to look at the Iron Legion armour that stood sentry at the doorway. "Jarvis, where are they?"

"Get out now!"

The shout was accompanied by an electronic whine that seemed to come from the very walls of the tower.

"Evie, what is that?!"

"Jarvis, call Daddy!" The twins were both yelling as the shrill noise swiftly rose in volume.

Evie stared at the Iron Legion. What else was in the basements?

Jarvis.

The crystalline network that was the heart of Jarvis was deep under the tower in one of the sub-basements, but the core ran the whole way up the centre of the building. A silicate structure that spread out on each level like the neurons of a nervous system. Jarvis' nervous system.

A plasma blast to the core would destroy it, and silicone was combustible at a high enough temperature...

"Come on!" Evie grabbed at the twins, dragging them towards the main door to the stairwell. The floor was rumbling as she did so, a heaving, groaning sound that started to shake the windows in their panes.

"But the Orks are down there!"

"Yeah, we're about to have bigger problems than Orks!" The Orks were about to have a much bigger problem too. They had maybe a few minutes, if they were lucky. Evie hadn't worked out how to descend seventy odd flights of stairs in that space of time, but she'd face that problem when it came to it. However, that did all hinge on her hope that the Orks weren't in the way.

She grabbed the door handle, then withdrew her hand with a sharp gasp – the metal handle leaving a red burn across her palm.

"Evie?" Hope stared at the injury with wide eyes.

"Back! Backbackbackback!" The few seconds of standing still made her suddenly aware of the heat radiating up from the floor through her trainers and she dragged her little siblings back into the centre of the room again.

"Evie!" Brandir shrieked, pointing behind them. The wooden bookshelves were smouldering, from the base up. The silicon neurones that ran through the walls and outer edges of the floor must have already been burning. From the heat of the door handle Evie knew damn well that the hall was also on fire.

It wasn't the silicone that was the biggest concern – it was what was kept highly pressurised within the silicone. Tendrils of Poly-hydride superconductors ran through each neurone, kept stable by their thick coating. Without the cladding they couldn't exist, breaking down into more stable common elements which included copious amounts of the extremely flammable hydrogen.

Everyone was familiar with what happened to the hydrogen on the Hindenburg...

Jarvis manned the fire-systems. If the alarms weren't sounding and the sprinklers weren't trying to put out the flames then that could only mean that Jarvis wasn't able to.

Jarvis was gone.

"What do we do?!" Hope had managed to materialise a tiny snowball in her hand – useless against what they were facing.

There wasn't anything they could do. The maths and the consequences sleeted through Evie's brain quicker than she could put words around. The floors, the ceilings, the walls of the tower were filled with burning silicone and combustible hydrogen. With Jarvis dead they couldn't communicate – no one could communicate – rescue was out of the question. The marble tiles were beginning to crack under their feet and, possibly more pressing, the ceiling was starting to bulge.

The tower gave another deep creaking groan and she realised that it had to mean the inner rooms were already well ablaze.

"Evie!" The loud crash almost drowned out Brandir's scream. The ceiling in the centre of the room dipped further and she dragged the twins up to the window. They were barely in time too, as the panels finally gave way and came crashing down, filling the room with burning debris.

The computers began to erupt, screens exploding and pieces flying in all directions. The heat was enough to take the very oxygen from the air. By the doorway – now on the other side of the room and across a field of fire – the small lone fire extinguisher burst open like an over-ripe fruit. The water evaporated almost instantly.

The heat was unbearable. Evie had never felt the like. Their trainers were leaving slippery footprints as the three siblings pressed up against the window, the rubber melting away. Brandir and Hope were screaming; pain more than fear now.

We're burning...

If there was one thing Evie was certain of it was that she couldn't let that happen to the twins. Any death but that one. There was a cracking sound, barely loud enough to be heard above the creaking and groaning of the burning skyscraper. The very building was warping – this wasn't just happening on their floor; the entire Tower was an inferno – and as it did so the window frames were distorting. The glass behind them was spider-webbing with cracks, the integrity lost.

Evie glanced out to see the sheer drop down to the street, flames already roaring out of the windows below them. The twins were pressed tight against her, screaming. Her blouse was already beginning to smoulder.

Any death but this one.

She hadn't managed to fix the wing pack properly since Loki had died. Jarvis was gone. They couldn't communicate to anyone the danger they were in. And she couldn't let her little brother and sister go in such a painful way.

One hard kick was all it took to burst the window outwards. The pressure change drew the flames to the window in a gush of red heat but they were already out. With Brandir and Hope clutched as tight to their big sister as possible the three Stark children were falling and falling.

A flash of silver followed them down.

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The first realisation anyone had that anything was wrong – anything more wrong than the world-wide battle for the universe that is – was when Jarvis cut out completely. That left Tony, Rhodes, Scott and Sam plummeting without warning. Antman and the Falcon recovered quickly – their own systems kicking in on their equipment. However, the Ironman suits relied on an AI interface for everything. The two men, and the Iron Legion alongside were helpless against the pull of gravity, and no communications system to speak to anyone else.

Tony was no stranger to suit malfunctions, even such catastrophic ones. Both he and Warmachine had parachutes for such an eventuality. However, just before he pulled the lever the HUD flickered back to life, the suit powering back up.

"Jarvis! What the fuck was that?!"

"Hello, sir. I am sorry for the inconvenience." The female voice made him start.

"Tony! What the hell happened?!"

"Tony, why is Jarvis now Irish?"

"Why's Jarvis a woman?!"

The bombardment of voices became background noise as Tony climbed back up into the sky. The only reason to lose Jarvis like that was if...

The Tower was a pillar of flame against the backdrop of the broken city. They had run simulations once, of what would happen if there was a fire in Jarvis' core. This looked like exactly what those simulations had suggested. Even as he watched the building began to collapse in on itself.

"No!" Evie! The twins! "Jarvi- whatever the fuck your name is! Did the kids reach the panic room?!"

"No data from the Tower available, sir."

"Panic rooms are on a different fucking server!"

"I am aware of that, sir. No data!"

If the panic rooms weren't transmitting, none of them had been activated, which meant none of them had been reached. The Tower had fallen and the kids hadn't reached a panic room in time...

"They're okay."

It was the first time since this whole new situation of completely-fucking-bizarre had started that Loki had spoken to him directly.

"What?"

"The children; they're okay." He had no idea where Loki actually was – possibly not even in the city at this point.

"Where are they?"

"Out of the Tower. I've got someone en route to find them."

That heavy pain of utter panic eased just enough to let him breathe again. It didn't occur to him to ask how the Trickster knew that their children had survived the falling Tower, nor to doubt his word. "Can I get to them quicker?"

"You're needed where you are."

Stark tried to find the words to counter that, argue that. But hearing his husband's voice, so alive so there and real in his ear-piece it chased any thoughts from his head. The city was a maelstrom of chaos and destruction beneath him, a scene being played out across the planet and that one voice made it all just background noise.

"Focus Tony! You are in the middle of a battle for the universe, you know!" The admonishment was in Loki's best parental tone. "The kids are fine, don't get yourself killed."

"We need to have the mother of all talks if we survive this!"

"Yes, I rather think we do."

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The first thought crossing Evie's mind was that death was a lot more painful than had been advertised. And much noisier. And heavier, which she hadn't factored into the afterlife at all. Different gravity?

Over the general cacophony of what she steadily realised was still the on-going battle, crying began to filter through. Very familiar crying, which meant...

"Brandir?"

"Evie!" Her brother's frantic sobbing intensified, but now with relief. "You wouldn't wake up! Everything hurts, and Hope has gone all quiet and you wouldn't wake up!"

Dealing with this meant working out how the hell they were all still alive. Evie started working on it by opening her eyes. That in itself was quite a task and rewarded her with little more than two stinging eyefuls of building dust for a few moments. She blinked it clear.

They were in and slightly under the rubble of a brick building, broken roof timbers surrounding them. The shell of the wrecked Avenger's Tower was visible through the smouldering beams, a broken jagged tooth clawing at the sky. The floor they had jumped from no longer existed, and neither did a good few beneath it.

"How...?" They should have been a greasy smear on the road. If that. Take all of the ridiculous genetics into account and they should still be a greasy smear on the road. As Evie sat up, dislodging brick and rubble in the process the 'how' became apparent. They were surrounded by shards of silver.

The young woman carefully picked up the shattered remains of an unrendered Ironman faceplate, a large portion of it sheared off. She recognised it, but only as an archival piece from the labs that – as far as she was aware – had only ever completed a single test flight. The Mark II. That had held the original and therefore extremely outdated external server for Jarvis all those years ago.

The AI had advanced so considerably since then that there was no way he would have succeeded in re-integrating properly into the ancient suit. Not fully, not properly. But maybe enough. The single eye of the faceplate had an unreadable expression.

"Did Jarvis save us?" Bandir had stopped sobbing now that Evie was awake.

"Yeah. Yeah he did." Her brother's words finally caught up and she looked around. "Where's Hope?"

"Here." Whilst the description of 'gone all quiet' had been a frightening one suggesting serious injury, Hope didn't look terribly worse for wear. Her wrist looked broken, which probably accounted for the unusual quietness, but as far as Evie's limited medical know-how could tell she didn't look like she was in shock. Well, yet at any rate.

"You good, kid?"

"My hand won't work."

"Yeah, I can see that. Anything else?" In the grand scheme of things surrounding them, a broken wrist was not at the top of Evie's list of priorities. Hope shook her head – evidently full of enough adrenaline that the fracture wasn't causing the pain it should have had. A mercy given how it should be hurting like hell. "Brandir? You hurt?"

"My knees are bruised." Normally he wouldn't have bothered to report something minor – Hope was the drama queen – but extraordinary circumstances meant he wouldn't say no to sympathy. "But you're bleeding."

"Well, we did just jump out of a burning building." Which meant that they were now out in the open – rubble not withstanding – and fair game to any Ork in the vicinity. "We need to find cover." Finding her feet on the broken, rubble-strewn floor was harder than it should have been given the knock to the head she had taken. If they were on the second floor of this building, stairs were going to be a problem.

"Evie, there's someone coming!" Just as Evie had inherited the Jötunn eyesight, Brandir's hearing was far beyond human.

"Ork?" She was unarmed but the scattered Mark II armour could probably provide something that could be cobbled together into a weapon. That required time though...

"No, a person."

"Get behind me." Because she was absolutely going to be able to fight off a threat in her current condition. The twins didn't question at any rate, scrambling to hide behind their older sibling.

"Evelyn?"

It was an unknown voice calling from outside the broken walls. Barely heard over the cacophony of battle. It didn't warrant a response given that they had no idea who the hell it was calling.

"Evelyn, are you in there?!"

She waved a hand at the twins, a universal shh gesture that they nodded to. It was hardly warranted as part of a broken wall crumbled down underneath a hard blow, revealing them.

"There you are! Come on, you've got to get out of here!" Absolute fucking stranger. Not an Ork at least, but still. Having just jumped from a burning building, accepting and then cheating death, Evie did not have the patience to deal with some random no-body without good reason.

"Yeah, no. Who the hell are you?"

He was tall, no older than her, and had that sort of vague familiarity that suggested she should know him even if they'd never met. A blast close-by flung dust and grit up into the air and the stranger threw a hand out so that a barrier sprang up, briefly shielding them from the spray. It was a spell they had most definitely seen Loki use before.

"My name is Vali, and we need to go, now!"

"Vali..." Yes, she knew that name alright. It took her scrambled brain a moment to make the links of 'oh yes, Möðhy had other kids' to 'half-brother!'. He was frowning at her with that look her mother always had when he was concerned.

"You have a head injury?"

"Kinda jumped out of a skyscraper without a parachute." Also, the blood down her face should have been a give-away. Vali's gaze quickly set on that, then tracked over the twins, who were staring at him silently.

"Are any of you seriously injured?"

Evie wasn't sure, and didn't quite have her wits about her enough to work out how to check either. Vali seemed to understand this since the next thing she knew his hands were on either side of her pounding head – he could move like the very wind –and there was the gentle warmth of healing. He apparently had more affinity for it than Loki since there wasn't the usual discomfort that came with it.

She shook her head a few times when he was done, and her swimming vision settled in time to see him quickly fixing Hope's broken arm.

"Right, there are literally no safe places to be right now, but staying in one spot is also a bad idea so we would do well to move on from here." He spoke quickly, but with that oh-so-proper Asgardian accent that Evie always equated with British royalty.

"Uh...right." Even with the concussion presumably cured she felt completely wrong-footed with the situation. Vali frowned at her.

"Are you okay?"

"Look, I'm sorry, I just jumped out of a burning building kinda assuming that that was it. Not only did we somehow survive that, thanks only to the sacrifice of Jarvis, but now we've got odd relatives climbing out of the woodwork. Odd dead relatives."

"Bit of a day, then."

"Yeah. Just a bit."

"Well, the world is a little too busy right now to worry about things not making sense." He held a hand out. "Come on, let's get you three out of here."

Evie didn't take his hand – half-brother or not she didn't need some bloke coming in and rescuing her like some damsel in distress. Instead, she grabbed up some of the shattered pieces of the Mark II. As the four of them scrambled out of the ruined building she began cobbling them together into a rudimentary weapon.

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The Ironman suit had seen better days. Granted, it had also seen worse days, but not many of those. Perhaps that very first crash landing in the desert, and the incident with the missile all those long years ago where the suit had burst open like a tin can.

Tony couldn't sustain decent flight now, with two thrusters busted. He was mostly roof-hopping, blasting what he could when he could. Going on Loki's assurance that the kids were okay he was focussing on trying to force the Orks back from the busiest areas of the city with dwindling ammo and a flickering arc reactor. It wasn't enough and he wasn't quite sure why he'd convinced himself that it would be.

His left boot had been causing some significant problems and finally spluttered and died, leaving him stumbling along the edge of a stack of shipping containers, half of which had already fallen from the dock into the freezing waters. He had no idea where he was or which of the huge container ports he had ended up in and Replacement-Jarvis was struggling to orientate him. There was a familiar dreaded whine and he ducked as plasma arced over his head.

"Oh come on!"

It must have been about eight hours now since the battle had begun in earnest and there hadn't been a single moment to even breathe. Nothing to eat, nothing to drink, just solid ongoing adrenaline and pain and physicality. Tony had been holding out hope that this tiny spot would have given him the brief chance to pause and try to regroup. But no such luck.

He slid down the side of one of the fallen containers, nearly pitching into the water in his attempt to get out of the Ork's eyeline. Plasma could tear through the metal like a hot knife through butter, but he had a fighting chance to get away if they couldn't see him.

"Tony, are you okay?"

Loki in his ear-piece – Stark didn't need Replacement-Jarvis to tell him that it was a private channel between the two of them.

"Define okay! I'm trapped down in some godforsaken container port and there are about three Orks here with me!"

"I know where you are; there's help on its way."

"Better be quick about it!" A stray bolt of plasma made him roll to one side and look back up to see the creatures silhouetted at the top of the container that he had just slid down "Uh...or immediately would be good too."

Loki didn't reply: Stark had no idea if that meant the Trickster was anywhere near or not. There was another shot that narrowly missed his leg – they'd spotted him – and he fired off one of his few remaining missiles in response. He was right down at the water's edge now and although he couldn't feel the cold of it the constant lapping sensation across his boots let him know it was there. Probably wasn't doing the damaged thrusters much good.

A sudden wave took him by surprise, knocking him back against one of the partly-submerged containers. There was all sorts falling into the river – buildings, ships, people – so the turbulent water shouldn't have been surprising. However, as Tony stared there was a very clear directional ripple heading through the filthy river straight towards them.

Had Loki sent a submarine? It looked big enough, certainly, although it seemed to be moving very quickly for how shallow it must be. It also wasn't slowing. And then the waters broke open, not around a periscope or a hull, but around a head.

It looked like nothing Stark had ever seen before, on Earth, Asgard or otherwise. Blocky, with large red nostrils that blended back into a turquoise skull and golden reptilian eyes. It rose up out of the water, mouth gaping open to reveal needle like rows of teeth. Given the size of the thing the teeth alone were about as long as Tony was tall.

"Uh..."

The eyes flickered to the man in a way that was unusual for any reptile Stark had ever seen, a keen intelligence shown there, before moving to gaze at the Orks. One had raised it's plasma gun uncertainly – they clearly hadn't been briefed about any such creature on the planet and for the briefest moment they were confused.

That moment was all it took for the huge newcomer to lunge with the speed of a viper, striking at the three Orks. Tony couldn't clearly see from his low view point, but then the reptile drew back, throwing it's head back so that one of the helpless victims was tossed into the air before falling back into the gaping maw. There was no chewing; it just went straight down the gullet

The entire moment had taken barely a few seconds.

Then the eyes turned to look down on Stark. The thing was towering up above him now, the blocky head at the top of an impossibly long neck that descended back into the river. A wide frill of wet feathers crowned the head in vibrant turquoises and reds that then cascaded down the body.

"Huh...Not-Jarvis? What or who am I looking at?"

"Closest link appears to be Quetzalcoatl." Replacement-Jarvis said it like Tony should have a clue what the mouthful of syllables meant. The images that flashed across the HUD were only slightly more familiar – South American Codices and modern interpretations.

"A...God? An Aztec God?"

"Ancient Mesoamerican, much older than the Aztec civilisation, the-"

"Okay, okay, you know what I meant." Stark climbed slowly to his feet, lifting the faceplate to make eye contact with his unexpected rescuer. "Thank you." He shouted it, working on the assumption that the creature was tall enough as to need the volume boost for his words to carry.

"Father suggested that you needed aid." It should have been a hiss but instead the voice was deep and sonorous. Like Sleipnir, it didn't emanate from the creature's mouth but more in the air around them. "It seems he was right."

"Your father..." As Tony watched his rescuer began to lift from the water, decreasing down in size in the process. It was snake-like, a long, sinuous body that once shrunk down was about as long as Stark was tall. Any other day the man would have questioned a flying feathery snake that had no apparent mechanism for being airborne, but by this point he didn't have the brain space for questioning weird shit.

"We should not linger here, more of those creatures are likely to be nearby."

"Right. Uh, yes. Quite."

"The sooner the better, Ironman." There was a surprisingly sarcastic bite to the words – the creature was amused by Tony's confusion. The creature had stated his Father had sent him, Loki had told Tony he was bringing help...

"Jormungandr?"

"Not as Norse as you expected?"

"Not...Not as such."

But of course why wouldn't a giant snake who lived in Mariana's Trench and had the run of the Pacific Ocean not have had an influence on the cultures that bordered the waters? Ancient South American, certainly, but it would also be possible to find similar imagery in the form of long-bodied dragons. Loki had told Tony that Jormungandr slept, but it looked like he'd woken enough times for humans throughout the ages to see him in the water and the air and start drawing conclusions.

"Can you fight?" It was a reasonable question, Stark felt. Jormungandr looked as offended as a snake possibly could.

"I am a creature of magic; I don't think you will be disappointed."

"That was exactly what I hoped you'd say."

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It was difficult for any single member of the team to have a real picture on what was actually happening. The scale of it all was just far beyond what they could process at any given moment. Even Steve and Bucky, who had fought through a world war, had no concept of the planet-wide battle taking place.

It wasn't just a handful of scattered battles; it was every single place on Earth that was inhabited. Mostly the aim was pure survival; civilians and military alike fighting with whatever they had to hand and getting as creative as only humanity can manage.

The small towns and villages of France, England and Germany were being shored up with makeshift town walls in a way that hadn't been seen since the Middle Ages; industrious labourers in plate and chain mail piling up everything to hand. In Peru terrified civilians had fled to the mountains to find the ancient defences of the Chachapoyas ready and waiting for the pursuing enemy; landslides, rock falls and all of the perils of the well-trained armies ready to defend their peoples.

In South Africa the remaining residents of Port Elizabeth had been driven down towards the sea, expecting death, only for a barrage of cannon fire from the waters to dispel those fears. The Queen Anne's Revenge leading the maritime charge of Renaissance warships to cover the civilians escape on the shores where landing dinghies waited for them. There were tens of thousands of civilians, but the arriving flotilla just continued to grow. Ed Teach at the helm, neighbouring ships carrying equally impressive names: Calico Jack, Ann Bonny, Mary Reed, Charles Vane, Benjamin Hornigold. The pirates that had once terrorised the West Indies were now lending their aid a continent away.

Across the world the oceans and seas were displaying ridiculous mixes of ships from all eras. From the tiny civilian boats of the Dunkirk evacuation to the World War two behemoth Prinz Eugen, coastlines across the planet were becoming makeshift landing zones to get civilians out of reach of Ork fire. As with everywhere, eras and geography meant little. Henry the VIII's great ship Mary Rose was spearheading a mix of craft from the Spanish Armada and Napoleon's Trafalgar fleet that were providing covering fire for people flocking to the docks in Copenhagen. Along the west coast of Hokkaido, HMS Hood and the Bismarck were doing the same.

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Scott had paused to wrap a quick bandage around his own arm – sprained but hopefully not broken – when he saw the wall crumble, the screams of those caught under it drowned out by the general noise. He was rationing the Pym Particles by this point, hours into the fight, so ran towards the site at normal size to start tackling the closest lump of rock.

"Need some help here!" Not that that would do any good. The same words were being screamed across the city – hell, across the globe - and if everyone was calling for it, there were precious few to deliver it. Without using the particles Scott was just a well-trained guy with a little support from his suit, he was struggling with the heavy masonry.

He managed to shift part of a window frame enough to release the legs of a woman. She was screaming but there was little he could do to help with the mess the metal had left her in.

"Move, lad! Give us some space!"

Someone shouldered him aside, not unkindly but making it very clear that he wasn't helping. Three women had appeared at his side, all in battle-stained white smocks and veil-like head dresses. It was the red crosses that gave Scott a clue as to who the hell they were, on the breast pocket and both arms.

"Tourniquet!" Stern, authoritative and absolutely no nonsense. As Antman watched, the field nurses calmly made it safe to move the injured woman, blood and muck flying everywhere in the process.

"Can I help...?"

"We've got this – you go on doing what you're doing, lad!"

He took them at their word, they certainly had the situation under better control than he had. With the injured victim freed from the tangled masonry they quickly secured her to a stretcher. Two of the ladies picked it up, one at each end, and charged off straight out into the open. They evidently had to know where one of the scratch-made field hospitals had been set up as they had a clear destination in mind.

"Here." The third woman had stayed behind and was already unwrapping Scott's badly bandaged arm. "Did no one teach you first aid?! A hundred years and things haven't changed!" She deftly splinted and re-wrapped the limb. "There. Go save the world!"

And she was gone, sprinting off towards the next cry for help before Scott could even say thanks.

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Vali had left Evie and the twins at the entrance to a Metro station with instructions to join the other city-dwellers who had taken shelter there and lie low. Whilst there was merit to the idea, Evie's last experience of being trapped in a confined space with a stampede of terrified people meant that she was less than inclined to take the suggestion.

They kept moving instead, keeping under cover and moving away from any noise that could suggest Orks were in their way. It didn't do to dwell with what they were leaving behind: the ruins of their home, Jarvis, poor little Arthur. Evie had given the two weapons she'd cobbled together from the Iron Man armour to her little brother and sister and had scavenged a machine gun dropped by some unknown person. It wasn't as sophisticated as the ones she was used to, but any port in the storm.

They'd run past Sam at one point, who had given them a brief nod and a wave but had little chance to make any other comment on their appearance. At least that meant their position would be broadcast and the team would vaguely know where they were. They were stopped at another point by a large group of horsemen from varied eras thundering across the street in front of them. Three women, all in very different forms of armour, were leading the charge. One, red braided hair flying in wild tangles, saw Evie and raised her spear in a fellow salute. Evie's world history was just about up to scratch that she could make a reasonable guess that it was Boadicea, but she didn't realise that she had also just seen Joan of Arc and Queen Aethelflaed in full battle glory.

A moment later the mis-mash of historic cavalry was followed by a tiny Mark IV tank from the British trenches. It had an array of soldiers hanging off the sides, most of whom appeared to be from the Italian Renaissance, bar one who saw the three Stark children and jumped down to the ground. He looked enough like Vali for it to be easy to assume that this was Narfi.

"I told him you wouldn't just hide." He called cheerfully. He had a Stark plasma gun in one hand and the nozzle of what appeared to be a German Flammenwerfer 35 in the other. "How are you doing for weapons?"

"We're managing..." Evie hefted her own now-paltry seeming machine gun. "Look, no offense, but what the hell is going on?! You're meant to be dead! So's Möðhy for that matter but I'm not going there right now."

"Ragnarok! Army of the dead, storming the earth, rains of blood and all that!"

"And how do you even know who we are?"

"Kid, I may not have the strength of magic like Father or Vali, but I can tell a blood relative or three when I see them." He grinned as she scowled at him. "Now, feel like sticking together? I see Vali decided to just leave you to it."

There was the pride of telling this complete and utter stranger – blood relation or not – to go screw himself. But there was pride and then there was idiocy. Narfi was thousands of years old, had fought innumerable battle and – and Evie couldn't stress this to herself enough – had a really big gun and a full tank on the flamethrower.

"Sure. We can stick together."

"Until we find Sleipnir!" Hope suddenly piped up. "We know Sleipnir!"

Narfi laughed. "Well, can't say fairer than that! I'll lead the way, shall I?"

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Loki hovered over the remains of New York, a pin-prick falcon in the smoky sky. It was hard to make sense of the chaos, even from such a height, let alone try to put in context of the rest of the world situation. One thing was very certain though.

"Still no sign of Thanos." He sent it as a mental message out to Hel.

"No. His army is depleting, but obviously not enough to bring him out." He had no idea where his daughter was down in the maelstrom of destruction.

"We can't keep this up." They were caught in a stalemate with the Orks, but that couldn't last. The only reason humanity was still standing was the sheer number of undead taking the hits for them. But that couldn't last forever and they were running low on ancient warriors. When the scales reached tipping point the Orks would start having the upper hand again.

"I estimate we have another few hours before we're completely overrun."

"I was thinking the same." As a falcon he couldn't really sigh, but it was there in his voice. "I really didn't want to have to do this..."

"That suggests you're about to do something stupid, Father."

"Well, you know me. Remember Plan B?"

"The Plan B that we agreed was barely a concept of a plan and not something we should actually consider trying?"

"Yes, that one."

Hel didn't verbally reply and instead sent a mental rush of emotions that was best summed up as 'resigned but furious about it'. The whole plan hinged on keeping as many people alive for as long as possible, whilst bringing Thanos out into the open. If he wasn't going to comply, they had to up the stakes.

Loki landed on the roof of one of the few remaining skyscrapers, resuming his Aesir form. Fire was belching out of the ventilation ducts and it wasn't certain how much longer the building was going to stay upright. He'd rather this happened as far away from the streets as possible, though, so it was the best option.

They had discussed this eventuality, mostly in the context of things they didn't want to have to do, but needs must. The risks of using an Infinity Stone were astronomical – not least because it gave Thanos the chance he was looking for.

"Good luck." Hel's propensity for keeping her emotions close meant that it was difficult to tell how confident she was about their chances for success.

The little box felt heavier than its size should have allowed. The raw power rolling out of it was something Loki could never get used to. Even the Tesseract – sat inside its protective casing – couldn't come close to the energy output. It was likely enough on its own for Thanos to sense it, but the trickster wasn't about to leave the fate of the known universe down to the mere hope of catching the Mad Titan's attention. He could still count on one hand the number of times he had actually held the Stone, and it still burned as intensely as the first time, a fire-brand in his palm.

There was a buzz of questions across the comms at the sudden energy discharge that Loki didn't deign to respond to. Three seconds was his maximum before he unceremoniously dropped the Stone back into its box and vanished it. He had absolutely no idea how long this might take – whether Thanos had improved on the old Chitauri teleportation technology and could be there immediately, if there was a lag in energy signatures being detected, if the Titan would even fall for the bait at all...

"Massive energy surge!" He hadn't needed Hel in his mind to tell him that. Everyone could feel that.

The air across the rooftop from him shimmered and fractured, mirror-like fractals bouncing light at un-natural angles.

Thanos was always larger than Loki remembered.

Tall enough to easily match the Hulk and strong enough besides. He exuded the sort of confidence usually only seen in someone who was already well aware of the final outcome and knew that it went decisively in his favour.

He was strolling across the roof of the high-rise as if he had all the time in the world. He evidently thought that he did.

"And this is what it has come to." His voice was as deep as would be expected for his size. The tone was mocking, like he was speaking to a child who didn't understand what was happening. Loki had expected to have to fight back unwanted memories at meeting the Titan again, but adrenaline was an amazing focuser in the face of what had to be certain death. "I have to admit; I under-estimated you."

"Most people do."

"Not a mistake I intend to make twice." The huge hand flexed, drawing attention to it. The stolen Infinity Gauntlet was dull in all of the mist and battle debris, but the stones themselves shone, highlighting the spaces where the missing two should sit. "If you are sensible, your end can be quick. Painless."

Loki laughed. "Already been there. I'm dead. There's little more you can do to me."

Thanos dipped his head in quiet acknowledgement. Nothing he seemed to do was in anger or haste. "That may be true. But I can make you watch whilst I turn this pathetic little planet to atoms." He looked out at where Jormungandr was rearing up to strike at some unidentified threat, far in the distance. "I believe that may vex you."

"I won't allow that."

"You think you can stop me?"

The infinity Gauntlet and four stones were formidable. Thanos had already shown his ability to easily atomise other realms with fewer stones.

"I could probably make it very difficult for you."

A grin stole across Thanos' face, like someone watching an animal perform a trick. "You amuse me." He held a hand out. "Now, the Reality Stone."

With a rush of gold Loki's battle armour materialised around him. He went the whole way since if any occasion ever demanded over-the-top theatrics, this one did. The horned helm felt unfamiliar after so many years of not bothering with it. Thanos' grin widened.

"I will have to assume that that's a no."

"It's a no."

The Titan flexed his gauntleted hand and the air around them hummed.

"Then I shall enjoy this."

It wasn't worth hanging around to let him grandstand. Space, Mind, Power, Time. None of them were going to be fun to go up against, and Loki wasn't intending to try. All he had to do was evade the Titan long enough to let Hel get close.

With a quick leap he left the rooftop.

"I don't think so."

The rushing air suddenly grabbed at his ankles, in a literal sense, like claws snagging straight through the thick leather of his boots. One moment he was airborne, the next he was careening straight down into the concrete of the roof he had just left, landing with a bone crunching impact.

Right. Space Stone.

"I believe I asked you for the Reality." Thanos made it sound so damn reasonable. Like a teacher to an errant pupil.

Loki rolled back to his feet, spitting out blood as his nose and teeth reset themselves. This time he didn't try for fancy, simply teleporting away with no thought to the destination. It worked, to a certain extent, as he managed to leave the rooftop this time but on landing in a blasted out street he found Thanos was still right in front of him. A sneering grin was slashed across the Titan's face. Well, not the first time Loki had come up against someone who could follow his teleportation and he had methods to shake a tail.

Flitting like a comet the Trickster moved from spot to spot across the city. Going further afield was too taxing this late into battle, but he had enough left in him to try to lose Thanos. However, when he came to a standstill the Titan was still stood there, a few meters away, the snarling smirk still on his face. Loki felt sweat dripping down his face from the effort.

"You tire me."

"Rather the aim."

Thanos looked around at the ruined building they now stood in the middle of. "Let us end this. You can either give me the Stone or I can take it."

With it safely tucked away in a pocket dimension that was unlikely to happen and Loki said as much. The Titan looked at him like he was a pet managing something clever for once.

"You truly have no concept of what I can accomplish." Light began to encircle the gauntlet and he flexed his hand, fingers curling into a fist.

"What-?" Loki had been expecting grandiose displays of power – possibly an attempt to torture the stone out of him. Instead, his own arm was suddenly wrapped in the same light. Around him the world ground to a halt. And not metaphorically either. As he stared around smoke and flames froze, flying rubble hanging in the sky like clouds. A dog had been running across the ruins behind them and was now impossibly statuesque with a single leg on the ground.

The Trickster tried to draw his arm back towards himself but he seemed to be as frozen as the rest of the world around them. Only Thanos seemed to be immune to what was happening as he stepped forward.

No!

Even as Loki watched it became obvious what was happening. His arm was moving beyond his control with jerky, spasmodic motions as the light forced it into complicated patterns. To someone so familiar with the movements he could easily read his own banishing spell being worked backwards. Time being manipulated to the user's whim.

"Thank you." Thanos reached out and plucked the Reality Stone from Loki's useless hand. "It is so much easier when everyone just does what they're told."

He was powerless, and so was Hel – wherever she was – to stop the Titan as the Reality Stone tumbled up his huge hand of it's own accord to settle in the allocated space in the Gauntlet. Locked into the time-loop, Loki could only watch in horror. The one thing they had banked on not happening and had no contingency for. So much thought and planning into the destruction that the other Stones could wreak and completely overlooking the simple manipulations of time.

"Did what I think happened, just happen?" Hel's voice was tight with tension.

"Unfortunately so." Loki managed to get the confirmation out but no more as Thanos released the time-loop and with a blast of power threw him backwards so that he crashed through the remains of a wall.

"So, what's the plan?"

"Right now, I'm trying not to die! Again!" It wasn't entirely clear what was happening to the undead who were being killed anew – they vanished into bursts of mist but whether they returned to Hel's domain or were gone for good was unknown. Loki didn't really want to find out.

"Can you keep him distracted?"

He was sent flying into another wall, trying to heal limbs as quickly as they were being broken. "Not in a sustainable fashion!" He teleported, but it was about as effective as it had been previously been. Actually, less effective given that Thanos now had the ability to bend reality just as well as the Trickster could.

"I could kill you now." The Titan strode across the rooftop that they had landed on, Loki rolling away from him. "But I am still missing a Stone, and I believe you know where it is."

The metal grating that he had just rolled across sprang up with a life of its own, snapping like a pair of iron jaws as the power of the Reality Stone wrapped around it. Loki's own magic whipped through the threat, splashing red hot metal across the roof top. Thanos brushed the liquid iron away as if it were water. The sentient grating was quickly followed by other pieces of the environment springing up to do the Titan's bidding.

The trickster laughed. In the midst of the bedlam and the tragedy, the overwhelming pandemonium, the laughter seemed the most natural reaction in the world. God of mischief, God of entropy, God of chaos. He was never going to be strong enough to defeat the Infinity Gauntlet – even incomplete – but he could deflect and defend and twist and trick. This was what the Norns had made him for after all.

Intertwined with the destruction of the main battle the individual duel raged across the skyline, marked by the comet-trail of magical debris and devastation. Thanos wasn't pulling punches and Loki was having to heal as quickly as the injuries were landing.

"This grows tiresome." The Titan's voice didn't betray any hint of exertion, whilst the Jötunn was winded. "Give me what I want and this can all be over." He waved his non-gauntleted hand around at the ruined city. It was impossible to tell what type of building had once been where they were now stood, the rubble of the walls had actually melted in certain areas. "I can make the end a mercy. This has gone on long enough – this world needs to be put to rest." The glassy debris flowed up to wrap around the tricksters' legs. "The Soul Stone. Now."

He was exhausted. He had stopped healing anything minor as that was wasting too much energy and it was showing. He was slow to react to the tentacles of melted brick that curled up around his boots. The whiplash response of magic shattered the attack, but not before the bones in his leg crushed under the pressure.

"Soul Stone...Not ringing any bells, I'm afraid." His grin was a bloodied slash across his face and he teleported away just in time to avoid the large blow of raw power that could have taken his head off.

The landing was hard, causing Loki to cling to a large piece of fallen metal to stay upright as his leg re-knitted itself. He heard Thanos take a casual step behind him.

"Your wit is not appreciated and your persistence irks me."

"And people say I talk too much!" The next teleportation was rough – a miscalculation but who could blame him for not entirely thinking straight – that landed them in the middle of a concrete wall. Thanos got the raw end of the deal at least; Loki stumbled free, but for a precious few moments the Titan remained trapped within the solid wall.

"What the hell's happening down there, Capricorn?!" The chaos they were spreading across the city had to be noticeable even amongst the devastation of the battle. "Is that the mad bastard?"

"Now's not the time, Stark!"

"If you get yourself killed again consider yourself divorced."

Loki laughed, spattering blood as he did so. "Noted." He threw the teleportation spell up again, spinning himself another mile or so away.

There was no doubt his adversary would follow, but he had a few precious seconds to heal up what he could. With his ankle trying to put itself back together he grabbed hold of the nearest sheared-off piece of metal to keep balance and also to ensure he had something to shield behind if required. The metal itself was warm to the touch, still retaining heat from the immense inferno it had been in.

There was no immediate sign of Thanos but the briefest flicker of movement had Loki aiming a fireball at the assumed threat

"What by the Norns?!" Rubble moved aside to produce a filthy but very familiar little figure that took one look at him and came running over as fast as the tiny legs could go. "Arthur!"

Having watched the tower come down it was impossible to believe anything could have made it out, let alone Evie's beloved but admittedly dim pet. But other than some singed fur the Munchrat seemed relatively un-harmed as he leapt up into Loki's arms.

"How by the Norns did you survive...?" He looked up at the metal he was holding onto, taking a step back to realise where he was. In the ground-zero of the Avengers Tower the only remaining recognisable piece was the signature 'A' that he had been leaning on – now twisted out of all distinguishable shape.

There was no time to puzzle over the luck of the animal, nor mourn the loss of what had been home. A badly aimed, but no less powerful blast sent him flying through the air, heralding Thanos' reappearance. He blocked the next wave by throwing out his arm, an iridescent shield materialising in time. His boots dug deep rents into the ruined ground as the power pushed against the barrier, forcing him back.

"Enough of this." Thanos flexed his gauntleted hand, bringing down more of the ruins around them. "What I am going to do to your stubborn, annoying planet, I am going to enjoy very much. You can't protect it."

Loki laughed. He couldn't help it, sometimes irony sets things up too well. "Well. If we can't protect the Earth, you can be damned well sure we'll avenge it." With Arthur having scrambled up his arm to curl around his shoulders he was free to banish the shield and raise both hands to fully unleash.

The surge of energy threw Thanos back a few steps, more in surprise than anything since Loki had been on the defensive up until this point. It wasn't refined, it wasn't elegant, but it was raw power in a single focused point, forcing the Titan to bring up his own defence in response. One big glut of energy in one go wasn't really the trickster's forte and not something he could sustain for long, but it was heartening to see his adversary wrong-footed.

The moment was all too short and Thanos rallied, deflecting the magic away to tear apart one of the remaining walls nearby.

"A decent attempt, but still, inexorably pointless."

"Worth a try." He was out of breath. As tries went, that one had drained the tanks.

"I am inclined to find what I want through other means. You are too troublesome to keep alive." The Titan stretched out a hand and the stolen Reality Stone glowed.

Magic whipped out, lashing itself around the trickster's neck like a noose. He tried to counteract it but his hand was caught and held tight by the same.

"What did you even think you could accomplish here?" Thanos raised his hand, lifting Loki up into the air. His fist closed and the noose tightened, crushing his opponent's airway. "All of this effort and you have managed nothing!"

"We..." Loki couldn't breathe. He felt his wrist snap under the crushing pressure and was pretty certain his spine had only a few moments before going the same way. "We...managed to...to distract you..."

Thanos frowned, only minutely but the brief flicker of confusion was there. And then his jaw dropped in shock as a hand erupted through the centre of his chest.

Loki was dropped to the ground as the pressure around his throat vanished. He looked up to see the Titan collapse down to one knee, dark blood spattering everywhere. The fist in his chest withdrew and behind him Hel rose to her full height.

The final Stone was held tight in her skeletal hand, the glow nearly blinding as she drew Thanos' very soul from his body.

"Hel!" Loki could see the pain on his daughter's face as she wrestled with the power she was wielding; Thanos was strong enough to fight the pull. The Trickster dragged himself to his feet but others were quicker to run to her aid.

Vali materialised beside her, grabbing her wrist to become part of the power struggle. A beat behind him Merlin arrived, hand on his sister's shoulder to join them.

The titan roared, his gauntleted hand clenching as he tried to regain control of the situation. Loki called his daughter's name again, throwing out an unrefined ball of magic. It wedged between Thanos' fingers and forced his fist to remain open. With the retaliation temporarily prevented it gave the briefest of edges to one side of the power struggle.

Hel screamed, a raw and ancient sound that should have gone unheard amongst the chaos but instead seemed to out-run every decibel around them. Her skeletal hand was burning around the stone she held and wisps of smoke were curling up from the charring bone. With an almighty yell she pulled back and the soul snapped free.

From Loki's vantage point he saw the life-thread break away but had no idea which direction it had gone – had it been ripped free from Thanos or had Hel lost her grip on it? He struggled up to his feet just in time to be flung backwards again by a sudden concussive blast of blinding energy. The remains of the buildings around their little tableau were already weakened and this latest blow took a large number of the final walls down. Dust and rubble were thrown in every direction.

The Trickster banished the clouds of destruction, rolling them back like the Red Sea. In doing so it was possible to see that both Merlin and Vali had also been cast backwards to the ground, closer to the epicentre and worse effected for it.

Thanos lay on the ground. Face down in the dirt with the absolute stillness that could only ever be found in death. It took Loki a long few moments to realise what he was seeing; to believe that the image in front of him was true and not a lie from the Titan.

To believe that they may have just about managed the impossible...

Hel was still on her feet, but barely. She was grasping her skeletal hand at the wrist with her remaining one, hunched over the limb in pain. When she looked up her eyes were on fire, so bright that the colour was indistinguishable. Light blazed from her hand where it grasped tight around the stone but as she carefully drew herself up to her full height it was clear that there was more than one light source.

The Stones were free from the Gauntlet and were tumbling up the woman's dress to align themselves around her hand. Individual colours were impossible to distinguish against the sun-bright glare each one was giving off. The pain on her face became concentration and she clenched her fingers, causing another soundless concussion blast.

The power hit Loki like a tsunami, knocking him back a few steps as he pushed through towards his daughter. Hel's expression was desperate as her burning eyes met his, trying to control and contain energy that was far far too much for any one person. The raw power surrounding her was like trying to move through concrete. It took all he had left for the Trickster to reach his hand out to his child.

Loki had been struck by lightning enough times to be able to say that the shock on touching Hel's shoulder was far beyond anything so natural. The Stone's held the power of the very universe, all of creation being funnelled down into six tiny points and from there flowing unchecked. Even for the two of them it was too much to bear, the chaos beginning to pull them apart from the very fabric of their beings.

And then Loki felt a glacially slow hand landing on his shoulder, Vali back on his feet. Merlin had struggled to Hel's side and was holding onto her arm. A shadow descended through the strobing lights and Jormungandr – small, the size of Maine coon – wrapped around Loki's shoulders. With a nudge to the small of his back he realised Fenrir was there too. Six magic users counteracting the six stones.

No-one spoke – there was no way to vocally communicate through the swirling onslaught of power. Instead, a single unified thought rose in the mind of each member of the family group

End this. Freedom.

The rolling, boiling maelstrom blasted out again, this time purposefully guided by the feeling. Consciousness wasn't an individual concept, in that moment they were one mind, one single idea guiding and commanding the full destructive power of the Stones as much as it tore them to pieces in the process.

It only needed moments, which asked everything and more. As the fury swept across the planet, taking the Orks with it, Loki felt Vali sag down to one knee beside him. His own legs were fighting to hold him upright against it all.

End this.

And then with a furious tug and a heave the storm of power was flowing back in on itself, turning on the Stones themselves with terrifying destructive force. The cracking and snapping as each in turn began to split open rivalled continents slamming into each other.

The blast when they finally broke apart and disintegrated left a crater nearly half a mile across. Everything in the vicinity of the explosion was levelled, vaporised to dust. A hole in the centre of New York city.

The silence was deafening; the whole world collectively holding its breath.

Loki blinked up at the murky sky, fallout from the blast drifting down like snow. A tentative twitch of his fingers told him that yes, they were still attached. In fact, his arms also appeared to be so too. He blinked again, and when that didn't seem to cause any immediate problems rolled his head carefully to look to one side

Vali was lying a few feet away, looking as dazed and confused as the Trickster felt, also seemingly going through the process of working out how injured he may or may not be. The younger magic user seemed to reach the conclusion that he was reasonably alright, and carefully sat up.

Following suite, Loki stared around at the crater they were now in the epicentre of. The other four were likewise struggling upright, seemingly shell-shocked but impossibly unharmed. He looked down at his hands, turning them this way and that trying to find the blemishes that had been there mere moments before. The injuries had vanished, as had all grime and dust from the battle.

There was a moment of sudden fear – had they been so utterly wiped out that their souls had been banished back to Valhalla? – which was then sated when the wind stirred the building dust around them revealing the rubble-strewn remains. Valhalla most certainly didn't have the empty shells of New York skyscrapers as a backdrop.

"Did we do it?" Merlin's voice was cracked and parched. He had Jormungandr draped around his neck like an oversized scarf, both brothers hardly caring that this was actually their first time of meeting.

"I don't know..."

Where was Hel? As the one wielding the stones she was most likely going to have the answer to that question. The trickster waved the rolling dust away to reveal Fenrir, upright and supporting his sister.

"Hel!" She had her back to her father and brothers but turned at her name, a pained smile on her face. She held tightly to Fenrir's coat with one hand to stay upright but her other arm...

Seeing Loki's expression as he realised what had happened the woman shook her head. "A small price." Her empty sleeve lifted and fluttered in the wind, highlighting the missing limb. Even with all six of them, as the wielder she had had to face the brunt of the storm.

"If the price was paid, does that mean-?"

"...-ki! Come in you son of an absolute bitch!"

Loki slapped his hand to his ear as the comm, repaired and as whole as he was, sparked back into life. "Stark!"

"Jesus fucking Christ!" The absolute sobbing relief in Stark's voice forgave the fact that he still insisted on using another deity's name. "You bastard! You absolute bastard! I thought you'd gone and gotten yourself killed all over again!"

"Not quite. What's happened out there?" From the centre of the crater, they had a poor view of the city, let alone the planetary situation.

"You don't even know?!" Disbelief, adrenaline, fear and something there that brought so much hope. Joy. "All the crazy light shows and you don't know?!"

With one arm around Hel's shaking shoulders, Loki scanned the battle-fogged skies for any sign of his husband. "Know what, Stark?"

A red streak shot out of the murk, heading straight at them. It wasn't the most dignified landing since Tony was running on empty and only one thruster was really working any more. The arc reactor was flickering in protest as he ground to a halt, ripping the face plate off. The rest of the armour more-or-less disassembled. Some of it was warped enough that he had to pull it away as he limped towards the trickster as fast as he could.

Hel pulled back from her father, silent acknowledgement that she prioritised this reunion over her own wellbeing. It left Loki free to cover the few steps remaining to pull his husband tight into his arms.

For the longest moment nothing, nothing, mattered except this. Stark was making some sort of very undignified noise; part laughter, part ugly sobbing. And then Loki heard the words being spluttered through the tears.

"The Orks have gone. We've won. They've gone."

They've gone.

Loki pulled back enough to stare at his husband. "They've gone? Truly?!"

"Yes! I swear, I am going to absolutely kill you for dying like that! How did you think I would manage-"

The trickster stopped the litany of complaints by pulling Stark back into a kiss. Tony left out a muffled 'oh' before grabbing his husband's hair and kissing back just as desperately.

"The world is saved?" Loki pulled back and had to clarify it again, not quite believing what he had heard.

Tony huffed and tapped his comm. "Fury? If you're still alive can you give us the picture?"

"Live and fucking kicking, Stark! As is Miss Potts. That blast did nobody any good!"

"What's our position?"

"Reports are coming in that we are clear. Whatever that son-of-a-bitch did, it worked. Orks disintegrating like cotton candy in a rainstorm."

Loki could physically feel the tension lift. Not just immediate anxiety but the past years of concern and fear over the hell that Thanos was trying to wreak. This horror that had been haunting him since he'd fallen off the Bifrost, so long ago now that it seemed like a distant dream. Nearly three decades of guilt, terror and horrendous expectation and it was over.

"We won..." He pulled Tony tight again. The first time they had been separated it had taken years to reunite, this time it had only been weeks but it felt just as deep and just as painful. "I'm so sorry."

"Dying was a dick move." The words were mumbled into his shoulder, Stark's grasp so tight as to be painful on his arms.

"Well, it did get Ragnarok started."

"Don't act like that was your plan all along! You made the best of a bad situation!"

Loki had to laugh at that, hearing the hitch in his own voice as he did so. "Why, Stark, it's like you hardly know me."

"Möðhy!" Evie's wild scream drew the Trickster's attention back to their surroundings. She was hobbling over the rubble towards them at top speed, Brandir on one hip and Hope skipping along beside them. There was that strange parallel again to their first reunion all those years ago now. Except that Evie was that much taller, of course. Loki scooped all three into his arms, so tight as to never let go again.

"You are an ass." Evie mumbled into his shoulder. "Getting yourself killed just to pull this sort of stunt? Ass."

"I've been called worse."

"I bet you have!" She pulled back just enough to look around at the absolute devastation of where Stark Tower had once stood. "You made a hell of a mess." The flippant tone didn't hide the tears, and Loki pressed a kiss to her forehead.

"I believe you were the one inside when it blew up, dear."

"Jarvis saved us!" Brandir piped up. "His data core 'sploded but he caught us with a suit!"

"I could have put the fire out, but Evie didn't let me!" Hope added as a petulant wail. For the two five-year-olds death was enough of an abstract concept that they weren't questioning the miraculous reappearance of their mother and were just happy to see him after a long hiatus. "I had a snow ball all ready!"

The Trickster laughed and lifted his youngest daughter up. "Did you? Well, how mean of Evie."

"Yeah, I'm the absolute worst." The young woman was failing at getting her tears under control but no-one would blame her for that. Then she started. "What the hell?!"

Loki followed her stunned gaze in time to see Arthur make a reappearance from behind one of the few remaining lumps of masonry. Evie crouched down and he scampered straight into her arms. Other than being rather more singed he didn't seem to have taken much damage from the power-storm that was strong enough to wipe out Gods.

"Are those things usually indestructible...?" Tony asked quietly.

"Not that anyone has ever mentioned."

"Huh..."

They were distracted back from the Munchrat's miraculous escape by Hope's exclamation. "Look at all the pretty sparkles!"

Motes of light were winking into existing around them like falling snow. As the little family group watched they coalesced, forming larger and larger glowing spheres. There didn't seem to be any weight or substance to the apparitions as they gently sailed harmlessly through anything in their way. One settled down nearby, continuing to expand until it was possible to see that rather than a solid ball it was forming more of an archway. Looking through the green grasslands and halls of Helheim were visible.

Loki quickly turned his head to see his eldest daughter holding out her remaining hand, conducting the light as if it were music. She may no longer have power of the Soul Stone but as the ruler of the dead for so many thousands of years she still had a singular control over those passed. She was calling her people back home.

The portals Hel was creating were large enough to accommodate the larger of the military vehicles that were beginning to access them. Up in the sky the remaining aircraft were disappearing through them, some still trailing smoke and flames behind them. On the ground it was more of a parade atmosphere as all of the assembled dead converged en masse into long columns threading their way through the ruined streets to the portals.

Surviving people were emerging onto the roads to watch and cheer. All around the world grief and jubilation were creating a heady mix as the population realised that it really was over and in the same breath the sheer extent of the human loss. Many were hugging every other person in sight, stranger or not, whilst others were unable to do any more than stand silently and weep. Relief, pain, loss, grief, overwhelming joy. Such a tumble and jumble of emotion, each as strong as the other as to be indistinguishable.

And through the whole confusing spectacle the armies of the dead were cheering and celebrating as they rode and marched back to Helheim. If there had been little to no order or pattern before, now it was sheer chaos amongst the assembled troops; all eras and epochs firmly mashed together so that one person could be carrying both a flint-headed spear and a Gatling gun at the same time.

At the ground zero of Stark Tower the soldiers were saluting Loki and Hel as they re-entered the portal. A full complement of Roman soldiers – remarkably intact given the circumstances – cantered past with all the associated pomposity Romans were known for and additional weaponry added on. One had dumped his usual armour for a bullet proof vest and another had swapped out the classic helmet for Western Stetson.

"Möðhy..." Evie gripped Loki's arm. "Are you going to leave us again?"

The armies of the dead were returning to the realm of the dead. And Loki was one of them.

"Like fuck you are!" The suit might have been ditched, but Tony was never completely powerless and he moved to place himself between his husband and the portal. "Not now, not ever."

"Stark..." There were more hoof beats behind them and Loki turned to see Sleipnir appearing at the edge of the crater. Not too far away Merlin had the same expression as Tony – angry and terrified by the same account. "Death is death..."

"I don't care. I'm not letting you go again!" The man turned his glare on Hel. "Not again. Not after all of this." He heard the tell-tale roar of a fireball nearby and didn't need to look to know that Merlin felt the same and was arming up.

Hel smiled. She had done that the last time too, when she had ripped Loki's soul away. This time, however, it was tired and pained but altogether a lot more understanding. "Peace. There is no need to feel threatened." She turned her gaze to her Father. "You do not feel the pull of death, do you?"

The words were odd, but as Loki stared at her he realised that there was absolutely no impulse whatsoever towards the portal.

"Hel...what did you do?"

She gestured down at the empty space where her arm should have been. "It seemed such a shame to destroy the Stones without making use of at least one of them one last time."

Loki remembered the wave of power that his daughter had wielded once all the Stones had been in her grasp. That concussion blast that had felt like it ripped all the way down to his very core. Perhaps because it had.

"Hel..." He took a step towards her but she held up her remaining hand to stop him.

"Three souls saved. That's all I could manage in the moment."

"Three?" Tony was the one asking the question, but his brain reached the answer almost as the words left his mouth. Loki, then Clint and Pepper.

"Take it as my apology to you, Ironman." Hel's smile grew a little. "And the Stone no longer holds the dead tight to my realm." She looked over her shoulder at Narfi and Vali and nodded to them. "Those with magic at least may find ways to leave, for a small time at least. Enough to visit, I'm sure."

The words washed over Loki. Looking around the deep crater he rea lised with a detached sense of wonder that he had never had his entire family in one place before. His children surrounded him, those he had thought long gone. His spouse, aggressively protective, standing there like a knight in armour albeit the armour a heaped pile on the floor. Thor and Odin were also approaching the scene, slowly, confused and hesitant to intrude. And then further out in the remains of the city the Avengers were picking themselves up and marvelling at their survival.

He could hear Tony sobbing. Evie too. Relief and disbelief in equal measure.

"I was under the impression that Ragnarok was the end of the world..." Stark managed quietly.

"End of the world as you know it. That doesn't mean it can't herald a new one." Loki had to smile as his husband turned to stare at him. "The whole world, crying out in their prayers for help. Theists and atheists alike calling out for something or someone to save them. And look which deities actually answered that call."

The pagan Gods of old, bringing humanities own ancestors to aid the fight. In the end, humanity had saved humanity.

"It's going to take centuries to rebuild." Tony breathed. "Centuries."

"Well...we have centuries. We have all the time in the world." And Loki laughed; all the weight and expectant fear of the years lifted. "And it is going to be such an adventure!"

Fin