"This is… going to be harder than I thought."
The snort that answered him lacked its usual bite as Brunnhilde leaned back in her chair. "Coming from you? Really? I thought you were supposed to be the God of Arrogance, or something like that."
Loki's attempt at an eyeroll looked more like a weary sigh. "God of Mischief, though that's hardly relevant anymore." He spread his notes out again, scouring the tiny black scribblings for anything he might have missed. "I've run the numbers more than a dozen times. There's no way we can stabilize the economy before our loan from Stark runs out."
Fingers steepled, Loki watched his partner's brows furrow as she studied the notes. Wrong, wrong, wrong. This is all wrong.
"All right, well," she began, "I'll just get Bruce to talk Stark into giving us another one. No problem."
"Another loan we'll pay back how, exactly? We're already drowning in a debt we never should've taken on in the first place. If we don't find a solution soon—"
"Okay, well, what happened to Asmund's idea? Making fishing New Asgard's main food resource until we're stable enough to outsource our aquaculture to other cities. I thought we were going with that."
"We were—we are. However, just because we have ready access to the resources doesn't mean we can harness them in a single day."
"Who says we have to do it in a day? We have time, Lackey. We just need to find the most efficient way to go about it."
"I believe the phrase is: easier said than done," Loki muttered, too agitated to be bothered by the abhorrent nickname. "I've run more scenarios than I can count and in every one we never make the deadline on time."
Too late.
Always too late!
Though he had walked over and settled down in her kitchen more than a half hour ago, Loki still couldn't seem to catch his breath.
Always…
"Okay, let me ask you this," Brunnhilde began, leaning forward across the table and giving Loki that familiar look that said she meant business. "How many of your scenarios have the people getting involved?"
"Most of them," Loki snapped in defense. "Well, some of them," he amended when Brunnhilde raised an eyebrow. "Look, that's not the point, all right? The point is—"
"I think that's exactly the point. We have so many people at our disposal!"
"People we are supposed to be taking care of, not enslaving."
"Who's enslaving anyone?" With a sigh, Brunnhilde shoved herself out of her chair and made for the fridge. She returned with a beer, and Loki knew she was past the point of offering him one.
"You know," he couldn't help but admit, "I'm just about tired of those."
Instead of making a witty comeback, the Valkyrie simply shrugged. "Sorry. Can't help it."
"I know." I know…
"Look, I know you think you have to take care of Asgard on your own, or whatever, but,"—She held up a finger as his mouth dropped open, cutting him off before he could even get a word out—"no one can build a kingdom on their own. No one in their right mind even tries. We have people here who are just as invested in the wellbeing of New Asgard as you and I. You can't keep trying to do everything yourself."
"I'm not—"
"You are. And, honestly, you're making me fear for your sanity. You are still sane, aren't you?"
"Yes!" Loki growled. "Yes, yes, just—agh!" He sucked in a breath. "I just need to think."
"That's another thing." Brunnhilde made a show of sipping her beer. Despite learning how to work together, they still knew how to push each other's buttons every once in a while. "You keep trying to do all this by yourself. You don't have to, you know. You're just going to burn yourself out."
"I don't 'burn out,' as you insist on phrasing it. Besides, you're here, aren't you? Or are you just a pathetic excuse for an illusion?"
"Flattery isn't your strong suit, is it?"
"Not with you, it's not." Oh, where was Heimdall when you needed him? Loki sighed and began reordering his notes just to give his fingers a mission other than flexing waves of anxiety under the table. "Look, this bickering isn't getting us anywhere, and—"
"You started it, your majesty."
"And," he cut back in, tone pointed, "as much as I enjoy our little spats, there are more important ways we can waste our time."
"Well," Brunnhilde quipped after another slurp of her beer, "I wouldn't have to irritate you if you weren't wound so tight all the time."
"And I wouldn't rise to the bait if you weren't such an aggravating little cur!" Loki snapped. He could feel his blood begin to boil; his heart start to work overtime.
And for a full minute, the two stared each other down, neither willing to be the first to yield.
Finally, Brunnhilde finished off her drink and Loki felt his gaze drift back down to his notes.
Brilliant work. You're handling things so well these days, aren't you?
Loki exhaled deeply through his nose, willing his fists to relax.
One. Two. Three. Four. Five…
"I'm…" Sorry? Yes, of course you are. "I…" Didn't mean it? A lie would be so like you right now, wouldn't it?
Shut up!
Running a hand through his hair, Loki pursed his lips for a moment before trying again. If he was going to speak, he wouldn't let his tongue flounder. You used to be Loki Silvertongue. Norns, what has happened to you?
"I've never had to grow a kingdom from nothing before," he said, voice softening along with the tension in his face. "I know, it's been a year already, but sometimes… Sometimes, I still feel like we're starting from the very beginning again. And sometimes…" And Norns! why was he telling her all this? Why not? "Sometimes, I still don't know how to start."
The Valkyrie cleared her throat as her brown eyes stared him down. "Maybe that's the problem, then. This isn't a kingdom—not the sort you're thinking of, anyway. Think of it as a village. Just a simple coastal village with simple little needs."
Loki snorted. "Asgard is not a village."
"It was, once," she said with a shrug. "It didn't just magically appear one day—at least, not the Asgard you and I knew."
"You have a point, Brunnhilde."
"I never thought about it that way."
"Perhaps I've just been overthinking all of this."
They were all decent answers and each one danced on the tip of his tongue in turn, but Loki couldn't bring himself to set them free.
"What's the matter? Silver tongue turned to lead?"
Usually, the memory of Fandrall's quip brought with it unwanted irritation and feelings of inferiority that were difficult to shake. Now, the thought only served as a reminder of everything they had lost—everything Loki had lost.
A mother. A father. A home. And now, a brother. Because Thor might as well be dead for all the help he gives these days.
The silence must have stretched longer than Loki initially thought because Brunnhilde was speaking again, trying to explain something about how Asgard wasn't built in a day or some rubbish like that.
But it was sacked in one, came Loki's next miserable thought. You destroyed it.
No, it was Thor's idea…
No. Loki felt his fist tighten beneath the table again, and he'd only just relaxed it. No, it was Hela who orchestrated Asgard's destruction.
Hela. No one else.
Except Odin, perhaps.
Yes, if there was anyone to blame for all of this, it was surely that old fool of a father. If he can even be deemed as such, seeing as he made such a mess of that role.
If Loki hadn't promised himself never to have kids of his own, he would've made another promise to be a much better parent than Odin.
"I mean, who just doesn't tell their child they were adopted?" The words had been uttered by a tipsy tongue on a night not so long ago when Brunnhilde had tried to get him to "loosen up" and "relax."
Loki refused to shudder at the memory, still irritated over the fact that he remembered much of their drunken conversation when the alcohol was supposed to make him forget.
Brunnhilde's response had been colorful, to say the least, but Loki had never been more grateful for her coarse sympathy—or for anyone's sympathy, for that matter.
There was just something about this Valkyrie that felt different than the other Asgardians. Loki couldn't really explain it beyond their shared experiences on Sakaar and the rusted feelings they both harbored for so long regarding their home realm.
And when it came to the situation concerning his brother… Well, Brunnhilde seemed to be the only one who truly understood. Why? Loki couldn't say. From the very beginning of New Asgard, she had always been there. Her presence never wavered, even when the citizens formed irritated mobs because their houses were taking so long to get built.
Even when a storm blew in from off the coast and destroyed much of their progress.
She was there.
Even during those nightmarish first days when Loki was pummelled on all sides by panicked and broken-hearted citizens.
She was there.
Why…?
"All right." Brunnhilde clapped her hands together with an air of finality that brought Loki back to the present. "Here's what I think: we go with scenario number three,"—Loki's gaze automatically snapped down the plan in his notes—"and while you debrief Heimdall and the rest of the town, I'll call Bruce to see if I can't get him to get Stark to give us another loan."
"Were you not listening before? We can't afford another—"
She waved a dismissive hand. "Come on. You don't think Stark actually meant for us to pay that first one back, do you? He knows our situation, and with what happened and everything… Well, we'll just work on paying back this next one."
"But—"
"Loki," she stressed, a tight smirk on her face, "don't worry about it, okay? It's fine. It's all gonna be fine."
Will it? It was the question that plagued him every single day since the Snap. Will it…?
Despite his murky thoughts, Loki felt himself nod.
Brunnhilde heaved a sigh. "Good. Now, I don't know about you, but I need some dessert before I have to adult."
"I still don't think you're using that word correctly," Loki protested, but he went over to the television anyway and began setting things up. He knew the codeword well these days. What he couldn't figure out, however, was exactly how their little tradition had gotten its start.
In no time, they were both settled on the couch, cradling plates of strawberry shortcake on their laps while the opening credits rolled for the Great British Bake-Off.
"One episode this time." Loki's warning was met with a sly grin.
"Of course," came Brunnhilde's not-so-reassuring reassurance. "When have we ever done otherwise?"
"Do you really expect me to answer that?"
"I just expect you to watch, Lackey," she said with a contented sigh. "I just expect you to watch."
"I still don't understand how watching half a dozen people bake cakes in tents is so utterly captivating," Loki mused halfway through the episode.
"Neither do I, but who cares? I know I don't, as long as they don't get rid of Mary Berry."
"And why in the Nine would they do that?"
Brunnhilde simply shrugged and made a noise that vaguely resembled the phrase I don't know.
"Well, if that ever happens," Loki declared after a moment of reflection, "I'm going to… Oh, what's that thing called where you stop due to uncontrollable anger at whatever you were watching?"
"Rage quit?"
"Yes, that. If Mary Berry ever leaves the show for some foolish reason, I'm afraid I'll have to rage quit."
"Same here. More shortcake?" she offered.
Loki shook his head. "No, thank you. We should probably get going soon."
"And start adulting again?" Brunnhilde made a show of rolling her eyes and leaning back into the couch. "Ugh. Fine."
"You can't just 'start adulting.' We are adults. So, we're not going to turn a noun into a verb. Goodness knows the English language doesnt need any more idiotic words added to its dictionary. Besides," Loki added with a small huff, "you can't just stop being an adult."
"Thor did." It was worse than a laser blast to the chest. Her voice was soft—barely audible—but it cut Loki to the core.
For a long moment, he couldn't move. Couldn't speak. His head was swimming, caught in a current he couldn't escape.
Because she was right.
Why is she always right?
"Sorry," she whispered, but Loki hardly heard it. "That was… unnecessary."
Why is it always us?
Heimdall, Brunnhilde, Loki. They were the only ones at the head of Asgard—New Asgard—who took things seriously.
"Loki?"
Why is it always just us?
Those of the curia regis who were able to escape Hela vanished with the Snap and Loki hadn't had time to appoint a new council.
Thor was supposed to make that decision. Thor was supposed to choose his council members, not me.
Why is it always me these days?
"Loki!"
The Valkyrie's hand on his shoulder startled Loki out of his thoughts. He blinked, willing his mind to center itself.
"No," he began as he rose from the couch, half-empty plate in hand, "don't apologize. It's fine."
"No, it's not. I shouldn't have—"
"No, you were right. And it's all the more reason why we should get back to the business at hand."
"Do you think maybe we should try talking to him again…?"
Mouth dry, Loki shook his head. "I've talked to him nearly every day for the past year. Nothing works. Nothing gets through to him."
Brunnhilde offered up a shrug. "It wouldn't hurt to try again."
"I know. Not now, though. Later. After the village is cared for. The citizens are our first priority."
"What about your brother? He's a priority, too. Isn't he?"
Eyes brimming over with more emotions than he could handle, Loki locked gazes with Brunnhilde.
"Only to himself."