Thor stepped through the doorway of Loki's quarters, prepared to verbally spar with the trickster. He knew his brother well enough by now; they had spent eons together, and Thor still sometimes heard the quiet patience which had guided his hands in creation.
Loki, too, needed patience. His nature was prickly, his instincts sly. He remained more likely to lie or shift blame, and his furies turned outward, just as Thor's once had.
Thor had grown with time and reflection, becoming an older, more seasoned version of the thunderer who tore through hordes of Jötunn. Loki, too, had changed – but change was a constant for the trickster, who shifted not just form but mentality to those around him. He was a shape shifter, yes, but he was wily too. His thoughts morphed as easily as his form, adjusting to those around him.
He never adjusted himself to be more pleasant, though. Instead, Loki pushed boundaries and fought constraints; he tore at the ribbons of reality, bending Yggdrasil's child until no room could contain him. Loki craved freedom above all things – the ability to simply exist, unbothered and untethered. Often alone.
Thor found his moods ponderous at times. Loki was not jovial, for all that he was a trickster. He was more inclined to roll his eyes at his boisterous brother, to take Thor's teasing in stride and return the favor with gusto. But he also brooded often, with great fervor. He paced the halls at night, restlessly swirling through the hallways of their childhood home. Some nights were worse than others, his anxieties so potent that the air crackled where he moved. Thor could sense him those nights, could feel Loki's precise location in relation to himself, and if the energies were erratic enough, would lift himself from bed to find his younger brother and walk with him.
The first time he'd joined the journey, Loki had stopped cold at sight of the thunderer waiting for him just down the hall. They'd watched each other, one wary and the other patient. Questions swirled in the air between them until Loki had opened his mouth, prepared to lend the power of voice.
He'd closed his mouth a moment later, his expression shifting from suspicion to confusion, and finally, resignment.
"Very well," he'd said that night, and together they circled the palace until Loki's energies abated.
Even now, with their relationship fully repaired eons before, the trickster shot his brother a sharp look of suspicion as Thor stepped into the quarters.
"Come to gloat, brother?" the trickster snapped. His eyes were alight, darting about the room to seek out purchase on a single item. They fell upon the desk where Loki's ruminations on Midgard lay scattered. His expression softened for a moment, a memory tugging him to calmer waters. Thor waited, knowing full well that his voice would incite the trickster's anger once more. They were friends, yes – but only just.
Loki's anxious energy fluttered in great wafts from his body. Thor could sense their patterns, great swirls of emotions which crackled with unspent will. The trickster had reached the height of his power just as Thor had, but where Thor had gained a serenity, Loki's erratic nature was emphasized. The very air crackled around him if Thor concentrated enough on the sensation.
Jane had once explained the concept of potential and kinetic energy. Thor stood at rest, primed at the top of a hill, his contained power available to roll across the landscape. Loki was never at rest; he paced, he twitched, he spun and scattered. In tandem they were omnipotent. The memories were fond for the thunderer. He had never asked how Loki regarded their time remaking the universe.
"I've come to assist," he said. Loki snorted and rolled his eyes.
"I'm not a child." Loki's voice was clipped and angry, the very image of a spoiled toddler stomping his foot. Thor only smiled and waited for Loki to calm himself. Trying to calm him only made the trickster more anxious.
"I don't need your assistance, brother," Loki said after a long moment of stretched silence. "I've asked Sif to stand guard."
That was a surprise. Of all his friends, Sif remained the most cautious when approaching the disgraced prince of Asgard. She would not fall for his tricks or his manipulations.
Thor wanted to ask why his brother had made this decision. He considered how to approach the topic, knowing that direct inquiry would make the trickster abandon the conversation at once. Abruptly, he realized that he didn't need the answer. Loki had chosen to have an old friend present, of his own will. Perhaps this represented a softening of sorts – the willingness to be vulnerable, even mildly, in the presence of someone other than Thor.
In the presence of Lynn.
Ah.
"Have you a plan today, brother?" Thor asked. The question startled Loki from his pacing. The two watched each other in silence, until Loki huffed and straightened a bracing.
"Amma Lynn has never seen Asgard, not really." Loki paused. Thor sensed the pulsing energies around him, felt how they narrowed and trembled. A deeply held desire was hidden within. Thor knew Loki well enough to guess at the trembling wish. He stepped forward, just at the edge of Loki's space, and clasped his brother's shoulder.
Loki met his eyes with outright suspicion. Accepting a gift, even of support, was ever a challenge.
"You will let me know if you need anything?" Thor asked. Loki's face opened into surprise, mirth, even a bit of acceptance. And finally, a leering smile crept across his mouth until he appeared fully at ease. As though nothing had or could ever be a bother.
"Of course, brother," the trickster said. He fidgeted again, glancing from the door to his brother and back, before a great sigh escaped his lips.
"I have a request," Loki said. Thor waited, his patience eternal, as Loki worked through his nerves to speak his mind.
After a reassuring nod, Thor left.
Lynn watched the Asgardians and Midgardians wandering through the alleys of Asgard with open fascination. There were storefronts and stands alike dotting the sides of any path they walked. The sellers, speaking English to her ears regardless of their species, adjusted their polite titles depending on who approached. The Asgardians were greeted with "m'lord," "sir," or "lady," with a smattering of disgruntled "prince" when Loki paid more than passing attention to the products on offer. In contrast, humans were greeted with "mister," "miss," or even "ma'am" depending on the accent of the human approaching them. She herself received "lady" most often until she began speaking, at which point her Southern twang earned her a "ma'am."
She blended well with the Asgardians, and the longer she remained here the easier that illusion would become. In a century, she could even be unrecognizable from the humans entirely – eternally young, her features unchanging, her youth maintained. At that point, with all her current friends gone, she would be free of the life she'd worked so hard to achieve, left to her own devices for how to spend the rest of the years she lived until she couldn't stand it any longer.
The decision to stay was only complicated by the man walking near her.
Sometimes Loki stood at her side, deftly navigating a barter for some item or another which caught her eye. Other times he trailed behind a pace or two, and she pretended not to hear him murmuring to Sif. He also moved ahead as well when his own interest was caught, suddenly excited to exclaim over a statue's identity. He preened through Asgard's long, complex history, telling story after story of ancient conquests and battles from before her ancestors' time. She was desperately interested in the stories, unable to keep herself from excited questions about other species, about political movements, about deals and betrayals.
He never spoke of Asgard's history with Jötunheimr. Not once.
Sif watched his fluttery attentions and often looked at Lynn with raised eyebrows, silently asking if the woman was offended by Loki's apparent inattention to her. Sif's suspicions were valid; she'd known Loki far longer and in worse form than Lynn had ever seen him. But his nervous energies, while distracting, were also directed. He circled her, always keeping her in the center of his orbit, always watching for her reactions and eye contact. He wasn't trying to avoid her at all – he was sharing, which Lynn strongly suspected he rarely allowed himself to do. Not even with Thor.
So she strolled, unhurried and unbothered. Sif noticed the pattern soon enough that her worried glances ceased. The warrior lagged behind more now, a silent expression of trust that Lynn was startled to see. Sif didn't trust Loki – she hadn't for years – and yet she saw the leash as clearly as everyone else close to Lynn.
Lynn felt the burden settling heavily across her shoulders. It had been there for years now, a constant source of quiet dread and fear. Loki's cruelty was stayed by his mother's agreement with the Allfather; his hand, however, was stayed by his attachment to Lynn, his unwillingness to lose her regard.
Focus, Lynn, she scolded herself.
She hadn't committed to purchasing anything so far, more interested in how the sellers spoke with Loki. The humans showed no interest outside of vague wariness. He was the first potential customer they'd seen who was guarded at all, and by Lady Sif herself no less. The Asgardians vacillated between professional optimism and outright hostility, with more than one struggling to provide service to the disgraced prince.
None of them attempted to turn Loki away outright, though. His purse was more important than his actions among this crowd.
They'd come to stop in front of a glassblower's stand, her eyes filled with wonder at the intricate pieces. It wasn't just the vibrant swirls of colors created via heat and talent. The pieces depicting a creature or land moved – a stag's head flicking its ear to rid itself of an invisible fly, a mermaid drifting among stunning corals, a cloudy mountaintop with wind ruffling the leaves of the glass-hewn trees. This last drew Lynn closest, her fingers hovering over the clouds with open wonder. Asgardian magic always thrilled her in any form. Loki rarely showed her his abilities, a strange holdover from times gone by, and she longed to know more about how any of this worked.
Loki was at her side in an instant, quiet as her eyes followed the running river down the mountainside. Lynn tried her best not to show her intense desire to own this piece. She resisted the urge to ask for its price, as she had at the previous stalls which caught her interest enough for her to pause. She knew she should turn and continue walking, knew that the temptation would overwhelm her if she didn't look away –
An eagle sailed across the mountaintop, its call small and eerie and all too real. Her gasp of sheer wonder earned a smile from the seller. Loki's hand gently touched her wrist. She didn't look his way, afraid a glance would steal her voice.
"I don't need it," she said, the words habitual. Tony hated them; Natasha hated them; Clint, Steve, even Bruce hated them. They were an old, instilled habit of frugality she had yet to shake. She'd been well above the poverty line for the past several years, living in a lavish Atlanta condo, eating on Tony's dime. Still, she couldn't stop herself from knowing that certain things weren't for her. This piece, beautiful and suffused with Asgard's magic, had no place in her scant furnishings. She –
Loki had turned to Sif, their mutterings outside of Lynn's range. She dropped her hand and took a deep breath. She smiled at the seller, whose eyes twinkled as though he were part of a shared mystery. She turned, back straight, to step away and continue her journey through Asgard's streets.
Loki sidled to her side, for all the world as relaxed as before. Sif hung back, stepping close to the artist, who leaned forward. Lynn just made out, Have this delivered –
"I've prepared a surprise for you, Amma Lynn," Loki said. She was startled from listening to Sif's quiet conversation and turned to Loki. Her eyebrows were raised to her hairline, disbelieving and uncertain. He offered his hand, though, and she took it reflexively.
"Assuming my oaf of a brother managed," Loki said. His disgruntled tone made Lynn laugh. He hated to rely on others for any plans. His standards were exacting and precise. That he would ask his brother to help at all was strange enough; to give Thor the power to screw something up, even stranger.
"I'm sure it's fine," Lynn said. Her laughter filled her voice. He shot her a sharp, amused look. She was teasing him for his nature. In the past he would have raged at her, perhaps even hurt her for the jab. Now he looked fondly down at her, his expression a small step away from outright admiration.
Or…
"This way," he said. His hand was at the small of her back now, rustling the garment he'd selected for their outing. He'd not tried to hide his pleasure when she stepped into the light bearing both the fruit of his and Sif's labors. She'd looked the part of an Asgardian, from her head to her sandals, and he'd beamed as he offered an arm to begin their journey through his home. She hadn't missed how he'd kept her close with small, easy touches on her lower arms, her back, her shoulders. Areas he considered safe, where his fingers had never left bruises or dragged her, unwilling and screaming, away from her friends.
Focus, Lynn.
She wondered if he was showing her off, a habit which Tony often did with Pepper. It was never leering, never cruel or cold. When Tony stepped into a room with Pepper Potts looking her best, his chest puffed out and his eyes shone with pride. He did that with Lynn sometimes, when he thought she wasn't looking his way. When she noticed, she rolled her eyes, but quietly she appreciated that he was proud of what she'd done with the gifts he'd given her.
Loki was guiding them deeper into the alleys, past where Asgard's populace shopped for goods and food for their pantries. His hand remained on her back, unwilling to relinquish the space she'd allowed him. When they arrived at their apparent destination, he hesitated to remove that hand, and when he did she glanced back at Sif. The warrior raised her eyebrows. Lynn felt her cheeks flush. She turned in time to see Loki knocking on the entrance to a large, cream-colored building. The door itself was covered in runes which shimmered in the daylight.
Magic, Lynn thought. She yearned so much to see more, but every time she asked, Loki balked.
The woman who answered looked kind, if scattered. Her hair was braided with what appeared to be woodland debris. Sticks, stones, even leaves and moss hung from her locks in carefully arranged patterns which Lynn didn't understand. And the air around her felt thick.
Lynn knew she was in a mythic realm. She understood that the creature in front of her was a literal trickster god of Norse myths, the warrior behind her named in tales older than many modern Earth civilizations. But she'd known Loki and Sif for years, had known Thor and Volstagg and Hogun and Fandral as people before she'd conceptualized them as myths. She'd met Odin himself more than once, spoken with Frigga as a shy victim, lived in an ancient Asgardian palace and heard Loki's many tales of his people's history today.
Sometimes, though, the truth struck her differently. For all that her friends were different species, Æsir and Jötun, they acted so human most of the time that it was easy to forget. They looked human, they wept and laughed and ate among humans. Their speech sounded like English through the All-tongue. If Loki allowed her to choose his clothes as he had for her, he would blend among humans as easily as she blended among the Æsir.
But they were not human. The creature now standing in the doorway thrummed with power so deep that Lynn could feel the very ground humming in response. Her eyes were a brighter green that Lynn had seen in any human or Æsir, her hair not quite the right texture, her face angled, and her ears –
Lynn gasped out loud, wonderment bursting from her. This woman was an elf!
The elf looked worried for a moment, reaching for Lynn's hand and taking it between her palms. Her fingers were sinewy and long, her figure lithe. Lynn couldn't think past it's true, it's true –
"Apologies, Filaurel," Loki said. He didn't sound the least bit apologetic. Lynn stuttered out an apology as well, trying to save face before a creature she hadn't known existed. When she spoke Filaurel's eyes creased in good humor. She squeezed Lynn's hand in support, smiling gently. Lynn was awestruck, both by her existence and her clear power, and she could hardly move. Her eyes –
Filaurel blinked, and Lynn was released from – from –
"Do not fret, child," the elf said. Her voice was soft and calming, lulling Lynn into the ease of relaxation. She maintained eye contact, but the thrumming around them dampened to a quiet murmur. Lynn felt lightheaded, swaying on her feet enough that Filaurel's grasp on her hand was keeping her upright. The murmur dipped into a whisper, and Lynn finally blinked away the confusion.
She stared open-mouthed. The elf stroked the side of her face.
"Whatever you want," Lynn said, her head foggy with bliss. She felt like she'd stepped from a dream into a mirage. Nothing was real, therefore she was safe. As safe as she'd ever been, as safe as she could possibly be, and, and –
"She has been touched by seiðr?" Filaurel broke eye contact to look at the man beside her. Lynn swayed into his steadying hand on her back. She blinked several times, panting quietly. The bliss remained inside, deep now, weaving into her marrow. She wished – she wished –
"She has," the man said. He didn't sound worried; he sounded relieved. He'd expected this. She hadn't, and distantly she thought that should bother her, but she felt so calm.
"Wouldn't you like to live life as a raindrop?" she said. The man snapped his eyes to her, bored them deep into her skin.
"Amma Lynn," he said, "you must wake now."
"Broken on the ground," she murmured in time with the bliss. "Vanished, and forgotten?"
She might call his look fear if she understood him anymore. Her eyes remained on Filaurel, who hadn't let go of her hand.
Yes, she whispered into the elf's mind. Yes, I would.
Would you? Filaurel replied. That seems a terrible waste of a life.
"Amma Lynn," a man's voice said. Behind him, a woman's called as well. They beckoned her back to her body, where pain and sorrow and life remained, and she stared into those green eyes, stared until they were all that she could see.
Filaurel pulled her forward. Protests on either side, protests from creatures of a bygone era. She stepped into the house, moving without protest, lost to Filaurel's gaze. She was pulled ever forward until they stopped as one, their minds so attached now that steps were in tandem, finger flicks were in tandem, heartbeats and breaths and life –
She was turned to look at the man – at Loki? – at Loki – she gasped and shook her head.
"I have seen this before," Filaurel said behind her. She was meeting different green eyes now, but her vision was too blurry to make out his features. Did she trust him? She couldn't say.
"The seiðr used was powerful," Filaurel said. "Traces remain inside her, enough for her to react still."
"It is not mere traces, Filaurel," Loki said. Lynn closed her eyes. He sounded worried. Could she trust him?
"I apologize, Amma Lynn." Loki's hand laid on her shoulder. She opened her eyes again to watch his movements. "I did not think you would react this way to pure seiðr. I would have warned you if I'd known."
React what way, she wanted to ask. She tried to open her mouth. His hand tightened enough that she flinched, waiting for the crushing strength to bruise her again. He eased his grip, then pulled his hand away. In another moment, he pressed an index and middle finger to her forehead. A wash of green and blue, flowing from his fingers into the depths of her mind, sifting away the elven seiðr until she gasped and shook her head, stepping back from his touch.
"What the hell?!" she cried, panic now easing into the places where bliss had settled. Whatever you want, she'd said. She nearly turned to run. Sif's arm caught her now, the warrior holding her firmly. Sif was not panicked, merely worried. That might mean what happened wasn't a trap, wasn't Loki trying to – trying to –
Loki hasn't hurt me in years, Lynn thought. Centuries. Millennia.
Her throat hurt. She rubbed it and coughed, a wet sound from days gone by.
"That was not supposed to happen," Loki said.
Loki knew he should have anticipated this. In his eagerness to bring Lynn here, he'd neglected a simple truth: those touched with seiðr could become attuned to the magics around them if it was powerful enough, and Filaurel was the strongest elven seiðr wielder on Asgard. That was why he'd chosen her for this, had asked Thor to help with his planning and preparation.
Now Lynn regarded him with an ancient fear, memories of his actions brought forth by Filaurel's power. They watched each other from a small distance, Loki standing too far to touch her at Sif's instruction.
Sif spoke quietly to Lynn, who had turned toward the taller woman. She nodded. She breathed in and out, then again, then shook out her arms and twisted her neck into a self-soothing circle. Filaurel had left the room, also at Sif's request, and Lynn was breathing more easily as the seconds ticked by.
She finally met Loki's eyes after several long, painful minutes of apprehension on his part. She took a deep breath again, then stepped into his space and offered her arm to him. He looked at the arm, hesitant, then at Sif. Sif nodded once. Loki reached forward, watching Lynn's face as he linked his arm with hers.
"I'm alright, Loki," she said. The weight he'd carried since she was pulled into this room drifted away. She was lying. He knew she was lying. But she lied for him.
He rewarded her with a smile and a small flourish.
"Would you like to see what I've brought you here for?" he asked. She nodded, revealing the curiosity she held. That was why she was pushing through for him; she needed to know what the purpose of this was.
That she had been so overcome, and then so frightened, and now was still willing to trust him…
Sif met his eyes. He looked down to Lynn rather than keep up the stare.
"Are you sure you're alright, Amma Lynn?"
She nodded, another deep breath huffing through her nose. She even smiled, though the shine didn't return to her eyes. Loki pushed ahead, hopeful to return them to the ease of before. He stepped further into the room, following the path Filaurel had walked before, moving deeper into the building. Thirteen paces straight into a hallway, and then a gentle knock at a door. Voices murmured behind the wood, some louder than others, and Lynn's eyes lit up when she recognized them.
"Is that," she began as the door swung open. Thor stood on the other side, smiling brazenly, and offered a hand to her. She was radiant of a sudden, bright with trust and love, as she stepped into a larger room designed for shows. Benches lined the room in a semi-circle around what could only be called a stage, though the ground itself was not raised. A gaggle of humans and Æsir filled the benches – all of Lynn's friends and chosen family who were present in Asgard, some in conversations and some watching the door for her.
It wasn't only those she knew. The entire physics division of Asgard was present, many with assorted Midgardian instruments for measuring Norns knew what. Loki was familiar with some of them, enough to even nod a greeting to the more excitable youths, but his attention remained on the small woman before him as she was guided into the room by Thor.
Jane waved from her seat next to Banner, who was engaged in an intense discussion with both Jane and Tony. Tony turned when the door opened and immediately stood, winding through and over the benches until he was close enough to grin.
"Look who finally showed up," he said. He clapped Lynn on the shoulder, excitement pouring from him in waves. His frenetic energy began to impact her, and Loki watched her start to fiddle her fingers in a nervous pattern. He smiled fondly, then looked at Thor who was smiling the same way at him.
He scoffed.
"Why are you so excited?" Lynn asked her mentor. Tony shot a surprised look at Loki, who tilted his head, then shrugged.
"Ol' Bristle britches there promised us a magic show," Tony said. "Pulled out all the stops, Thor tells me. The physics division is losing their minds."
"I can imagine," Lynn said. She sounded like she wasn't imagining anything of the sort. She turned to Loki, those shining eyes finally diverted back to his favor, nearly shaking with her own excitement.
"A magic show?" she said. Loki glanced at Thor, who nodded toward the front of the room.
"Indeed," Loki said. He offered an arm again, and Lynn looped hers inside. He pulled her gently to the indicated spot, settling her as close to the front as he dared without disrupting the varied instruments set up around the stage.
"I thought you would like to watch, and share the experience with your friends."
He had catalogued the various looks she'd given him over the years. Most often he saw consternation, amusement, sometimes happiness, and sometimes fear. He'd memorized the lines of her face, the way the colors she wove into her hair caught the light, the way her skin remained young and unscarred by mortality. He waited for one of those looks now. The seconds passed. Lynn alternated between shifting the fabric of her dress, tending to her own comfort, and looking back up at him with an expression he was certain he'd never seen before.
No, he realized. He'd seen it once before, on a night where drink had consumed her. She'd looked up at him with this very light, her expression open and wanting, and she'd pulled him down to claim his lips with her own.
Years before. A different time, on a different world, with a different life crowding her thoughts. He'd thought her distracted and confused until later, on a beach, alone and safe, she had made the choice again.
She watched him with a faint blush now, eyes shimmering in the seiðr-fueled light. He was nearly undone.
He rested a hand on one of her knees, covered by yards of fabric and safe. A gesture of reassurance. Her hand joined his, wrapped over the top and held him there. Her expression deepened with promise and hope.
"Show's about to start," Tony said from behind them. Lynn turned and smirked at the inventor; Loki fixed his gaze ahead instead to watch as Filaurel stepped into their midst. Lynn tensed, dropping her eyes to avoid the elf's gaze. Loki turned his captured palm upwards to squeeze her hand and gain her attention. He pointed at the runes ringing the stage before them.
"Her seiðr is contained in the circle," he murmured into her ear, his breath soft against her ear. She nodded. Filaurel began the show.
"They say that in the beginning, there was nothing but darkness," she said. Her hands twisted in the air, and the lights vanished entirely, blanketing the room in darkness.
"Bitter cold to the north, fiery hot to the south. They say the cold formed ice, which melted from the sparks from the south."
Loki felt Lynn's breathing beside him as the room chilled to the north and warmed to the south. The humans around them turned in their seats, some speaking under their breath in excited whispers. Lynn said nothing.
"The power of the darkness gave life to the dripping ice and the first giant was born and was named Ymir." At this, Filaurel's hands jerked outward. A stream of colors erupted from her palms to collect and form the image of Ymir, a giant of ice and frost. He rose before them all, his eyes burning red, his body frozen and jagged against the air. He spread his powerful arms, gusts of cold wind following his movements. His blue light danced across the mortals' faces, and Loki stole a glance to Lynn.
She was rapt, her mouth slightly open, her breaths fogging the air. Her hand clenched tightly around his; her heartbeat raced. She was in awe.
"The ice continued to drip," Filaurel said, "and the power of the void gave life to it, and it became a cow whose milk fed the giant."
A great cow made of darkness tossed its head behind Ymir's visage. Its tail flicked, and with each swipe the beast corporealized. Ymir knelt at the beast's udder and drank his fill. Some humans made quiet sounds of disgust, their whines echoing around the room.
"A cow," Tony said behind them. "Wasn't expecting that."
"Ymir was a frost-giant, a being of darkness, and all his sons and grandsons were dark after him."
Lynn jolted a bit at this, her eyes breaking from the stunning visions to look up at Loki. Concern pinched her brow. Loki smiled, serene in her happiness, and tilted his head back to the show. Other figures appeared in the corner of both their eyes. Lynn, unable to resist, turned back to the noisy crowd before them. Filaurel's seiðr brought sight, sound, even weight to the rising story. Each introduction was hailed with a burst of light accompanied by a sudden presence – they could be real, if they were not merely illusions.
"Of his daughters and granddaughters some were monstrous but others, fair. But there was another who came from the ice, Buri. In shape he was like a man, big and powerful."
Buri rose larger than his brothers and sisters before them, covered in thick furs with leather protecting his legs and feet. He scowled at the assembled, his expression stern, his hair and beard white and aged.
"His son, Borr, took a fair giant to be his wife, and they had three sons."
Borr resembled a beast more than his father. His face was twisted and flaking red, a helmet with downward-facing horns topping a body made only for war. His wife rose too, a giantess with burning eyes. Lynn's breath caught in her mouth; her fingers twitched in Loki's.
Now Filaurel drew upon her greatest seiðr. The lights rose further from the darkness, the room awash with mystical power. A horn blew in the distance, hailing the arrival of a great ruler. Odin himself formed, his visage terrible and bleak.
"Odin was the eldest, and the Æsir hold him to be the foremost of the gods, the All-father."
A young Odin, unscarred by knowledge or children, untempered by time. His power was vast enough to lance through the air. The humans alternately shielded themselves or stared in silence.
"The Æsir say that Odin and his brothers killed Ymir and that the world of men was formed from his corpse."
Ymir's great body was rent in two, his dying screams echoing his rage. Glaciers cast off from his body and his iced skeleton fell into the light. The building blocks of a new world.
"They made his bones into stones and his flesh into earth and his blood into the salt sea. They set his skull to be the bowl of the sky, with his brains for clouds."
"Waste not want not," said Tony behind them. Lynn snorted a quick laugh, engrossed in the story.
"Odin and his brothers caught the sparks flying from Muspell and made them into stars," Filaurel said. Her hands wove a tapestry of stars above them. The room darkened again into night. Lynn's wonder morphed into an expression of delight, watching the stars form above them from Odin's power.
Loki wondered what Thor thought of this tale of creation.
The story was done, but the seiðr expanded further. The stars spiraled out into patterns, then swirls, then nebula and galaxies. They spread across the night sky, distanced from each other, swirling further and further away from the worlds they all knew. Some sputtered and died; others burst forth, new and bright.
Silence. Starlight. The humans sat stunned, the Æsir patient. It was Tony, of course, who realized the show was complete. He whistled, causing Lynn to startle out of her reverie and Loki to scowl over his shoulder.
"Hot damn," Tony howled. "That was bonkers!"
The room erupted into activity. Human scientists ran forward to check their instruments, or turned to each other and began babbling theories and discoveries. Tony clapped Lynn's shoulder once before joining Banner and Jane again, the three of them chittering in excitement from the display.
Loki watched for Lynn's reaction, her thoughts, her anything. When seconds passed to minutes, he clenched his jaw. Had he miscalculated? She had always begged him to show her more of his tricks, and always seemed delighted for the crumbs he grudgingly allowed. He'd thought she'd enjoy this, very much. He'd hoped –
"Loki," Lynn said. She turned to look at him with same expression from before. But stronger, now. More intent.
"Can we go?" she said. His stood, bringing her hand with his own, and obliged.
She'd remained quiet on the way back, lost in her thoughts. Sif and Thor trailed them now, the Asgardians commenting on the story's veracity. Sif was asking Thor pointed questions about creation, and Thor was answering with a distracted candor. He'd been watching Loki intently as they paced back to the palace, and when they entered the estate he took his brother's elbow and guided him to the side.
"Loki?" the thunderer said, unwilling to push. Loki looked down at the hand grasping his elbow, then to Thor. He raised his eyebrows, and Thor released him.
"I will see her to her room," Loki said. His voice was careful and quiet, his demeanor calm. Thor's worry escalated.
He stepped aside.
Loki approached Lynn now, his hand outstretched. She accepted him with a weak smile, followed where he led her. They walked together through his childhood home, past his brother's quarters. He stopped in front of her door, unable to ignore how close she was to Thor and how far she was, in turn, from Loki.
Away from him, where she would remain safe. She had not said anything since they'd left Filaurel behind. Had barely looked at him; had offered him a strained smile and darkened eyes. She opened the door to her quarters and pushed the door open, letting it swing lazily backward. She saw enough of the room to see his final gift, set up across from the bed upon the windowsill where it could greet her with the morning's rays. The mountaintop statuette with its clouds and fluttering leaves, it churning river and floating eagle.
He felt the tremble in her hand before he began to loosen his fingers. To release her.
"Why did you take me there, Loki?"
She was looking at him now, those dark eyes curious. Did it trouble her? Had she hated the display of seiðr? He called himself a fool for the idea; she had been hurt by seiðr, hurt by those who wielded it, and he had thought she'd enjoy seeing such power up close? A reminder of her worst days, of the times which still haunted her nights?
A fool, he snarled to himself. A fool.
"Loki," she said. She had tightened her grip on his hand again, keeping hold of him, forcing him to stay. Her other rose to press against his cheek. Her fingers stroked his skin – only once, but he felt the light brush. He shuddered, once, in reply.
"Tell me," she said. Quiet. A gentle request, nearly a whisper. She couldn't hurt him for the truth, he told himself. And she might not believe him anyway.
The truth was often worse than a lie.
"Because I…wanted to please you," he said. He whispered the words, afraid to release them, afraid to admit his weakness so openly. He wanted to please her. To give her something beautiful, a memory she could smile at and turn over in the distant future, something he had given her out of kindness, knowing her wishes.
His fingers twitched inside her hand. His only sign of nerves.
Lynn smiled and shook her head at this ridiculous man before her. He had wanted to please her. He'd chosen clothing in colors he knew she wore often. He'd taken her through his home city, introduced her to wares and customs and shopkeepers he enjoyed. He'd had the sculpture she loved carted back and set where she could see it every morning, could see that beautiful mountain which reminded her so much of the mountains from home.
He'd taken her to see an elf, had given her a magic show of dazzling lights and colors and such power that her body still hummed. He had been gentle with her as they returned, as she returned from the bliss of Filaurel's seiðr. Even shielded behind the runes, she'd felt the power pressing against her, and lost amongst the stars she'd drifted into eternity.
And now he stood silent and scared, watching her, waiting for her to send him away. She recognized the signs now. He thought she was upset, or angry, or maybe afraid; it didn't matter, really. He thought she would push him out of her life now, once and for all. Make the fatal decision, and have Thor unweave the magic inside her. Remove herself from his life in a human lifespan, relinquishing the weight on her shoulders.
Because he had wanted to please her.
"Take me to your quarters," she said. Loki's surprise quickly shifted to confusion, but he obeyed as requested. She wondered if he'd ever held anyone's hand at all, or if he had any inkling of what the gesture meant to humans. She wondered if Tony had known what was coming, had planned this all along. Tony worried for her future all the time, worried for her loneliness, worried for her lifespan. But here, on Asgard, she could have a normal enough life. She could remain ageless, timeless, blending into the Æsir crowds. In a century, she wouldn't outlive her friends any longer; in a millennium, she would carry their memories and tell stories for Filaurel to share.
A long life and a lonely life need not be equals, Amma Lynn. Loki's words from years ago rang in her head.
She could live here, with him, in this place.
She was not grieving, and she was not drunk. They were at his door now, at the quarters he'd not used in who knew how long. He opened the door and pulled her inside, still uncertain but trusting her judgment. He closed the door behind them, watching her all the while, waiting for another pronouncement. His fingers twitched again, and she released them, finally, only to step forward into his space. He began to lean back. Her right hand caught him, looped behind his neck, pulled him down to share breath and press her lips to his. Her left slid against his hip, both grips gentle, neither demanding. She kissed him once, lightly, a taste. She watched him lean back enough to meet her eyes, to ask without speaking.
There was terror there. She could see his fear, his very nature. Primal, ancient, haunted, fragile.
"Thank you," she said. His eyes darkened with need, his arms raising to hold her. He froze, hesitant, uncertain of his welcome. His hands, as always, stayed by her.
She kissed him again, welcoming his hunger, accepting the weight on her shoulders with a peaceful sigh. His arms caught her then, drew her past his insecurities and her logical objections. They moved as one now, with a common goal, and as she tilted her head back for his lips, his voice echoed in her memories.
It is your choice, after all.
Author notes:
The language of the Norse myth told is taken and slightly edited from the fantastically written lorestones of the game Hellblade: Senua's Sacrifice. With extreme credit to Druth's voice actor, who delivers the stories with glee. Each character referenced is found in Marvel's multiverse.