Chapter 8 - Geasa and Ghosts

There had been an awkward moment at the end of the ceremony, when it was announced that Doom could kiss his new wife. Frigga had first bumped her nose into his mask and pulled back before tilting her head to give him a small peck on the chin. Not satisfied with this, Doom had turned her so that she faced those in the pews. With his back to the congregation, he took off his mask, allowing only her to see him. Then they had kissed.

As Thor watched, he had felt sick to his stomach, though he couldn't be sure if it was the sight of Frigga kissing someone who was not his father or the knowledge that Frigga was not truly his mother that had made him nauseous. At least Loki had seemed to have cheered up, perhaps with the knowledge that he had not been alone in having been lied to his entire life. He had even clapped at the conclusion of the ceremony, though he was the only one who did. Apparently, Latverians didn't clap.

And now the reception was being held in the middle of the village square, which had been decorated with yellow roses in full bloom and silver and green paper lanterns. Frigga had already had her first dance with her new husband under the crescent moon, and Thor was already deep in his cups by the time his mother sat across from him at the table he had occupied alone. The plum flavored wine on offer wasn't exactly to his liking, but it was strong enough that a couple of bottles had been enough to give him a good buzz.

"Thor—"

"That Doombot said that you didn't have any children that lived past infancy," Thor said, cutting her off. "What does that mean? Did you and Odin have children that did not live?"

"You picked up on that, did you?"

"Don't be so surprised. People are always saying that I'm not nearly as dumb as I look."

Frigga blinked at him, then looked down at her hands before answering. "I bore Odin one child, a daughter who died in infancy."

"And why have I never heard about this older sister? Or older half-sister, I suppose, assuming I am even the son of Odin—"

Frigga's lips flattened out into a straight line. "You are very much Odin's son."

Thor felt a little guilty as he realized the implications of that, but he couldn't stop himself from blundering on. "So why have I not heard of this older half-sibling before?"

"Because even after two thousand years, it is painful for me to speak about, and perhaps even more so for your father."

Again, he felt guilty about pressing her for answers. "Norns, Mother, I'm so sorry, but I don't understand. Aesir children do not simply die, unless—"

"It was the only and last battle to be fought on Asgardian soil. Not only was she taken from us, I saw her slaughtered before my very eyes."

Thor felt his blood begin to boil. "But what kind of enemy would do such a thing as to slay an infant before its mother?"

"One that came to regret it. I truly don't wish to speak of this, Thor. Your half-sister is gone, and nothing will bring her back. Her death has already been avenged; your father made sure of that."

Thor poured his mother a cup of wine, and they sat drinking together in silence for some time.

"But Mother," Thor said, breaking their silence. He felt bad for bringing it up again, but one thing about his mother's story still bothered him. "Loki and I had to study every battle in Asgardian history, and I don't recall any battles that were fought on Asgardian soil."

"You wouldn't have studied it. Have you heard the Midgardian saying, 'History is written by the victors?' Though we might have won the day, our losses were so great that your father never cared to have them recorded in Asgard's histories."

"But something that happened so recently as two millennia ago—surely our people would still be telling tales of it! I would have heard of it from someone."

"Darling, do you know what a 'geas' is?" asked Frigga.

The term did sound familiar, and it only took Thor a moment to remember why. "I remember when Loki tried to tell us he was under a geas that prohibited him from eating leeks."

His mother smiled. "Loki was not fond of leeks, and he had just learned what geas were. But a geas is just that; magic that compels one to do something, or not to do it."

"Are you saying that Father cast a spell compelling all of Asgard to be silent on the matter?"

"That is exactly what I'm saying."

"And he also put one of these 'geas' on you, to prohibit you from telling me the truth, that you are not the mother who bore me?"

"Not just on me, darling. I'm not the only one who knew."

Thor nodded. He hated to admit that it sounded like something Odin would do, but there were not many things Odin would refrain from doing "for the good of the realm." "And he did this as well to prevent anyone from telling Loki of his heritage," Thor guessed. Now that Thor had had time to think about it, it seemed impossible for no one to have noticed that Odin had brought a baby back with him from Jotunheim. "Had he not, would you have told Loki?"

Frigga sighed as she poured herself another glass of wine. "If I am honest, I cannot know. The geas prevented me from having to make that decision, and I fear I would not have made the correct one, too afraid to have Loki reject me as his mother."

"And you aren't frightened that I'm going to reject you now?"

Frigga reached across the table, and Thor took her hand. "Secrets have already torn our family apart, Thor. I can't say if I would have told you before, but after what happened to Loki, I never questioned that I would tell you as soon as I was able."

"So why can you speak of these things now?"

"Because in marrying Victor, I have become Latverian. Your father's geasa only ever applied to those subject to Asgard."

"Which out of all the nine, Midgardians are not. And it was not enough for you simply to break from Asgard?"

"At first, I thought it would be, but it wasn't. It was all I could do to drop a few hints. I am certain your brother picked up on them, and that he might have even suspected before, but—"

"Loki is under Father's geasa as well," Thor guessed, "Even though he doesn't know it, and even though he no longer considers himself Asgardian. That hardly seems fair."

"In Loki's mind, he is not Asgardian. But the heart is always a different matter, Thor."

"The heart?"

"What Doctor Samson would call the 'subconscious.' It is slower to change its beliefs than the conscious mind. That is why I think it might be a good idea for Loki to reside with us in Latveria and allow Victor to adopt him. I don't want to force him, but—"

"Loki has already been adopted by Tony."

"But that's only a joke, isn't it?"

Thor shook his head. "It was something of a joke at first, but I am certain that Tony has come to see Loki as his own."

"If that is case, it must become official somehow. Not necessarily legal, but the universe—and Loki's subconscious—must be informed of Tony's intent to have Loki as his, in order to fully break the power Odin might still have over him."

"I shall tell Tony this. I am certain he can come up with something. But Mother—"

"Yes?"

"Did you marry Victor only to break your silence?"

"No, Thor. I married him because I love him. He's really a nice man once you get to know him. I know how the rest of the world sees him, but he cares for his people more than anything, and they adore him. With his magic, he has been able to protect them in ways that the leaders of other countries in this region have not been able to protect their people, and he is striving to make their lives better without letting in capitalist industrial influences that he truly believes are going to be the end of this world. Have you noticed how clean the air is here? It is because they do not have cars, or factories that release pollution into the air. Whatever else you might think about his politics, there is something to be said for that. And look, without so many electric lights, you can still see the stars above us."

"It is beautiful here," Thor agreed. "Will you be happy here, then?"

"I believe I will."

"Then that is all I need to know. I just hope that you never see a side of your new husband that forces you to reconsider. The vows you took seem rather permanent."

"Those kinds of vows always are, but vows can always be broken—not without consequence, of course."

‧͙⁺˚*･༓ ༓･*˚⁺‧͙

As Bruce sat watching couples dance with one another in the middle of the square, he wished Leonard were there. Not necessarily to dance, but to sit with him and watch other people dance, which was what they usually did at these kinds of functions. On the other hand, maybe he should never see Leonard again. If he ever hurt Leonard the way he had hurt Natasha—well, there had to be some way of ending his life. Maybe he should get in touch with Fury. He was sure the man had devoted some of SHIELD's resources to figuring out the answer to that question for a "just-in-case" scenario, and it would be interesting to know how close they had come to a solution.

The reading from the wedding had been something about love driving out fear. But it seemed to Bruce that the more he loved, the more fear he felt.

"Can I sit here?" asked a woman in thickly accented English.

Bruce blinked up at her. "Sure."

"Thank you," the woman said, collapsing onto the bench next to him. "I have been on my feet for several hours delivering a calf. It was a difficult delivery."

"You're the doctor here?" Bruce supposed that explained the large red blotch on the front of her green dress. She must have come directly from work. He pointed to the spot. "You've got a little, um—"

"So I do." She didn't sound too concerned about it. "Pour me some of that rakia."

Bruce poured her a small glass of the clear plum flavored alcohol that he had been sipping and handed it to her, then winced as he watched her throw it back. She put the glass out again for him to refill it, and this time, she sipped it before striking her free hand out toward him. He wondered if she had washed it since it had been inside a cow's uterus, but decided it looked clean enough. He reached for her hand to shake it, and she gripped him by the forearm and moved their arms up and down in a motion that felt more like a challenge than a handshake. "Zora Vukovic," she said.

"Bruce Banner." He pulled his arm back and rubbing his arm where her fingers had gripped him hard enough to bruise.

"How come you do not dance with your woman?"

"I'm not here with a woman."

"Do you not have a woman?"

"No," Bruce told her, feeling a little like he was under interrogation He doubted it would be a good idea to tell her about Leonard. Natasha had told them that same sex relationships were still against the law here.

"But you are in love with someone," Zora told him. "Is it another man?"

Bruce had brought his glass up to his lips to take another sip of rakia, and now he choked on it. "Why would you ask—"

"Your handshake feels like the handshake of a man who loves men."

"Okay well, that's a little offensive—"

"A joke," she said, then shrugged. "You do have a very weak grip, but I am sure it is only because you are an American."

"Sure, that's much less offensive."

"But it is alright if you do love a man," Zora continued. "Same sex relationships are no longer illegal under Doom's law, and our law never applied to outsiders anyway."

So, Natasha's information had been inaccurate or at least outdated. Still, he wasn't really interested in discussing his personal life with this strange woman. "What makes you so sure I'm in love with anyone?"

"You look too sad not to be in love."

Bruce didn't have to ask what she meant, but he still doubted that someone who looked as young as she did could possibly understand what he was going through. "How old are you, Zora?" he asked, though he supposed if she was the town doctor, she couldn't be as young as she looked.

Zora threw back the rest of her rakia before answering. "Seventeen."

"What? You're—sorry, it's just that you seem very mature for a seventeen-year-old." As best as any of them could tell, in relative terms, Loki might have been around the same age.

She shrugged. "My parents died when I was young. Such a thing makes you grow up quickly."

"But where did you learn medicine?"

"From Lord Doom. He allowed me to watch him work, and I picked up many things that way. He also allowed me to read his books. This is how I learned English as well."

"And that's all the formal training you have?"

"It is enough to handle simple things. Delivering cows and babies, administering first aid for injuries—"

"It's my understanding that at least one of those things can be fairly complicated."

"The cows can be a bit moody." Zora said it with such a straight face that Bruce couldn't tell if she was joking. "For now, my knowledge is sufficient, but Doom has offered to send me to medical school in Sokovia."

"Sokovia has a medical school?" Bruce couldn't imagine what a Sokovian medical school would be like, when their only airport looked like a dive bar with a couple of ancient prop planes parked outside. "You seem like an extremely intelligent young woman, Zora. Some of the best medical schools are in America and England, and you already speak English. I'm guessing Doom doesn't want to send you to any of them, though, because those are 'vulgar capitalist' countries."

"Lord Doom went to school in America," Zora reminded him. "He said that if I wished to, I could go there, so long as I promised not to be seduced by American culture, and I returned to Latveria when my studies were done. But it seems so very far away."

"You really like it here?"

"Oh yes. Latveria is my home, and Lord Doom is my savior."

"Savior?"

"How much do you know about our history? Before Lord Doom, our country was like others in this region—vulnerable to both inner turmoil and interference from outsiders. But with Doom, we have stability."

(｡・・)o自 自o(‾◡◝)

Natasha waved to Thor from the dance floor. "You know, you're supposed to be my date," she called to him. "That means you have to dance with me at least once."

"Go ahead," Frigga told him. "I should find your brother."

"I must admit, I don't actually know any Midgardian dances," Thor told Natasha, as he took her hand.

"That's alright. Why don't you just teach me something Asgardian? I'm a quick study."

Thor didn't want to admit that he didn't know any proper Asgardian dances either, so he just made something up as he went. As he spun Natasha around the dance floor, a light flashed in their eyes. "What was that?"

"Paparazzi, I think."

"In Latveria?"

Natasha shrugged. "They're everywhere, I guess."

/[◉"]・)

Frigga spotted Loki at another table, drinking rakia by himself just as her other son had been doing. She sat down at the table across from him without asking if he minded, afraid that he would say he would. "Loki, I thought Lord Stark forbade you from drinking."

Loki shrugged into his glass. "Tony isn't here, and Bruce isn't paying attention. I won't tell if you won't. Shouldn't I be allowed to have a little to drink at my mother's wedding?"

It warmed Frigga's heart to hear Loki call her his mother. "As long as you don't overdo it." As she had with Thor earlier, she reached across the table and waited for him to take her by the hand. "Thank you, Loki, for allowing me to have this happiness."

"I'm not allowing you anything." Loki intertwined his fingers with hers. "I've just accepted that I can't stop you. I still think you're making a huge mistake."

"That's mature of you, Loki."

"I thought so."

"I would still be happy if you decided to stay."

"Not happening," Loki said, letting go of her hand and reaching again for his drink.

"No, I didn't think so."

"It was a geas, wasn't it? That was why you couldn't tell us anything Odin didn't want you to tell us, and why you can say those things now that you don't belong to him anymore."

"You have always been clever," Frigga told him, deciding to pretend she hadn't heard the contempt in his voice. She wasn't sure if it had been directed her former husband or at herself, but she knew that Loki had a right to feel however he felt after everything that had happened.

"So, anything else we ought to know? Other than the fact that neither of us is your child?"

"You are still both my children, Loki. That I did not give birth to you matters not. And you should know that you were very much wanted children, even if Odin did surprise me a little both times he placed an unexpected infant in my arms." This time, she felt a little bad that she hadn't answered his question, but Loki seemed too distracted, and perhaps too drunk to notice. She still wasn't prepared to speak to anyone about the infant she had lost, when she hadn't so much as spoken her eldest daughter's name in the past two thousand years.

"So, who is Thor's mother? I take it Odin is his father."

"I think that is for Odin to tell, whenever Thor decides to ask him."

"It's Gaea, isn't it?"

Frigga grimaced; Loki could be much too clever for his own good at times. "How did you know?"

"He has her—temperament, I suppose?"

"That is one way to put it," Frigga agreed. "Loki, I won't ask you to lie, but I would appreciate it if you didn't blurt this out. Don't tell Thor what you know unless he specifically asks. I'm honestly not sure he's ready to know any more than he's already found out. I would also appreciate it if you would apologize to Victor before you leave."

"Apologize? For what?"

Frigga just arched an eyebrow at him.

"Oh. That."

"Yes, that. Loki, he has done nothing but try to get to know you. I know he comes off as a little—"

"Insane?" Loki cut her off.

"Personally, I think a better word might be 'intense.' He really shouldn't have disappeared from the dinner table with you like that, but Victor tends to get a little overexcited sometimes."

"He threw Thor, Bruce, and I in his dungeon and left us there all night, Mother."

"Loki, after what happened at dinner, I was the one who told him he could leave you all there until morning, and I might add that Lady Natasha agreed with me. It was only one night, Loki, and you had already fallen asleep when I came to check on you."

"You came to check on me?"

"Of course." Frigga reached out and tucked a lock of Loki's hair behind his ear. "You are my child, Loki, even when we argue."

(*˘▾˘) Frigga ❤Loki (◕◕)

Loki stood awkwardly in front of the table where Victor Von Doom sat alone, the picture of a noble ruler overlooking his subjects. He wasn't looking at Loki, and Loki wondered if he was still angry because he had threatened to accuse him of sexual assault or if it was because he had shown up to his wedding in what the man was sure to consider gender-inappropriate clothing.

"I feel that I owe you an apology," said Loki. "To be clear, I am apologizing for trying to blackmail you, not for wearing a dress."

Victor deigned to looked at him, and he felt a little like a rabbit staring up at a hungry wolf. "Why would I fault you for wearing a dress?"

"Because I am currently male?" Loki suggested.

Victor shrugged as if he couldn't care less. Maybe Frigga really had used an enchantment on him. "You say you owe me an apology for attempting to blackmail me. So, are you apologizing?"

"Sorry for trying to blackmail you," Loki mumbled. He didn't mumble when he added, "But if you hurt my mother, or if you allow anyone else to hurt her, I will erase Latveria from the map, and no one will even remember it existed. I mean that literally, by the way."

It was difficult to tell with the mask, but Loki got the skin-crawling feeling that Victor Von Doom was smiling at him. "And you are capable of carrying out that threat?"

"I know people." Loki felt for her emergency phone, which he had again hidden in the lining of his dress.

Victor nodded. "Always make sure that if you make a threat, you are both capable of and willing to carrying it out." If Loki didn't know better, he would think he had just made the man proud.

( ( ◣w◢) ＼ ❤ Loki ヽ(;ﾟ;∀;ﾟ; )ﾉ

Perhaps it was the alcohol, or that he hadn't slept in an actual bed in two days, but Loki hadn't had a problem falling asleep that night, this time curled under the dark green coverlet and a pile of blankets. A cold front had blown in, and Doom's castle lacked a central heating system.

Staying asleep was a different matter. Around midnight, he was awoken by what he had first assumed to be the howling of a wolf. Loki wasn't afraid of wolves, given that he could be a wolf himself if he wanted. But there was something off about the call of this particular wolf, if that was what it was. Loki sat up in bed, straining to listen to the sound, which now sounded more to him like a banshee's cry than the cry of any Earthly creature.

He couldn't stand it anymore. He jumped out of bed, barely touching the cold stone floor on his way to the bed where Natasha slept, throwing back her covers and burying himself under them. A moment later, the covers were thrown back again, and the light by Natasha's bed clicked on. "Loki, what are you doing?"

Loki didn't want to admit that he had allowed himself to be spooked by a strange noise, which felt a little silly now. Likely, it had only been the wind howling through the trees. But then he heard it again, louder than it had been before, and this time he was certain that it wasn't. He practically jumped into Natasha's arms.

Natasha didn't push him away, but she did let out an exasperated sigh. "Loki, are you seriously afraid of whatever that sound is?"

Loki nodded into her chest.

"It's just the wind."

"I don't think it is."

"What do you think it is, then?"

"A horrible monster that's going to climb in through the window and devour us." He knew how stupid it sounded even before he said it, but he didn't want to admit that Natasha was probably right, and that it had only been the cry of the wind warped into something else by his imagination.

"There's no such thing as monsters."

Loki snorted. "Come now, as an ex-agent of SHIELD, you know that isn't true."

"Alright, fine. I've still never heard of a monster that crawls through second story windows in the middle of the night to eat people."

"Just because you haven't heard of such a thing doesn't mean it can't exist. And for your information, I have heard of such a thing. Half the bedtime stories I was told growing up were about monsters who crawl through second story windows in the middle of the night to eat ill-behaved children. The other half were about monsters that crawl through second story windows in the middle of the night to ravish beautiful women, so either way, one of us is getting devoured."

"Aw, you think I'm beautiful?"

"I think you are aware that few would say you are not an attractive woman. Don't let it go to your head."

Natasha pushed Loki away from her and swung her bare feet over the side of the bed. "Get up and put your shoes on. I'm going to prove to you that there isn't a monster."

"You can't mean for us to go out there? Are you insane? Even if there isn't a monster out there, neither of us brought a coat. We'll freeze."

"It isn't that cold. Aren't you a frost giant or whatever?"

"At the moment, I'm mortal," Loki reminded her. "But thanks for reminding me that technically, I'm one of the monsters who eats ill-behaved children."

"You know, I've never even been there, but I really hate Asgard sometimes. You aren't a monster, Loki."

Loki batted his eyelashes at her. "Aw, you think I'm not less than human?"

"Don't let it go to your head."

Loki got out of Natasha's bed, found his sneakers, and put them on. Then he wrapped himself in the duvet from his bed. By the time he was ready, Natasha had already put her shoes on and had retrieved a flashlight from her bag, which he was beginning to suspect might be a portal to a pocket dimension. After all, if Natasha were secretly a sorcerer with the ability to access pocket dimensions, it would explain how she managed to carry anything at all in the pockets of the skintight cat suits she wore on missions.

Loki cringed at the creaking sound the door made when Natasha opened it. "We have to be quiet, Loki. We don't want to wake anyone else up."

"I'm not Thor," Loki said, rolling his eyes as he followed her into the hallway. "God of mischief, remember? I know how to sneak around—" As soon as he had spoken, he stumbled forward, tripped on the duvet, and bumped into a tall vase, knocking it over. The vase didn't break, to Loki's relief. Instead, it rolled down the hallway, somehow took a turn towards the stairs and disappeared. Ten seconds later, a crash issued from the foyer.

"Good going, god of mischief."

"If anyone asks, we tell them Thor did it. You don't suppose there are any security cameras up here, do you?"

Natasha arched an eyebrow at him. "We're not going to blame Thor. We just need to clean it up. Then we act like nothing happened. No one's going to notice one little vase missing."

Somehow, Loki had been certain that Natasha would tell him that he had to confess to the murder of Doom's vase. But he had forgotten something important about Natasha—that she had lived her entire life in shadows and moral gray areas. Also, she might actually be a little worse at being an adult than Tony, if that was possible. "It was a rather large vase," Loki pointed out.

"I'm still pretty sure I've seen fifty of them around this castle that look exactly the same, and I doubt Doom goes around every morning and counts how many vases he has to make sure none have gone missing."

"But what are we going to do with the pieces? We can't just deposit them in the kitchen rubbish bin, someone might see them."

"You're right—we'll just have to bury them outside."

Loki felt his heart swell in his chest. "Oh Norns, Natasha, you might be more devious than I am. I think I might be in love. Not with you, obviously. Just with how devious you are."

"Come on, Loki. Let's go find a broom."

/x\ ･^ﾟﾟ･^｡ﾟﾟ^｡

"I thought you were going to help me," Loki complained as he swept the pieces of the shattered vase into an empty oversized potato sack they had found in the kitchen.

"I have a broken arm. All I can do is hold the flashlight."

Loki supposed Natasha had a point. When he had collected all the pieces of the vase, she jumped up from her perch on the stairs and Loki followed her back through the kitchen, dragging the bag all the way to the service entrance, which took them out into a kitchen garden, with an herb garden in a raised bed at the center of it.

"Perfect," Natasha said. "You can bury your victim under one of those parsley plants, and no one will ever know."

"I believe that is coriander, not parsley," Loki corrected her.

"Whatever. The plan is still the same."

Loki didn't see a shovel anywhere, so he tossed the sack aside and turned himself into a large, shaggy black dog. With his paws, he made quick work of digging up the coriander, but had to stop when he hit what he first he assumed it to be rock. But something about the way the moonlight glittered off the thing he had struck made Loki whimper as he jumped back, turning back into his humanoid form. "Natasha, I think someone has already buried something here."

Natasha peered over his shoulder. "Looks like bone." She sat down on the side of the raised bed and swept more of the dirt away from what Loki was now convinced was a human femur. "Well, this is Doom's backyard. I guess we should have expected to find a few bodies already buried here—"

"How can you be so casual about this?" Loki demanded.

"It's just a corpse. One that's been here for years, by the looks at it. It can't hurt you."

"Perhaps not, but where there is a corpse buried in a garden, there is someone who buried a corpse in a garden." Loki gasped as he came to a realization. "And we've broken that person's vase—"

Natasha rolled her eyes. "We already knew Doom was nuts. Also, you're the one who broke his vase, so I'll probably be fine."

"That isn't funny. You—" Loki was cut off by an echoing, aching howl, which he was now one hundred percent certain wasn't the wind, or any living animal. "Natasha, behind you!" He pointed over her shoulder, to a woman in a ragged dress with ashen skin and blue lips.

Natasha spun around towards the woman, automatically putting taking a fighting stance, ready to defend them. But then she relaxed and turned back to Loki. "What are you pointing at? There's nothing there."

"Who dares disturb my coriander?" the woman croaked, with a voice that sounded as if she'd been swallowing gravel.

Loki blinked at her. "I'm sorry, you're concerned about the coriander? What about your bones? I'm assuming you're the one buried under there."

Natasha's eyebrows knit in confusion, or perhaps in concern for his sanity. "Loki, who are you talking to?"

The ghost, if that was what it was, rolled its eyes. "That's a deer's femur. It's tradition to bury the bones of an animal in an herb garden. Makes for good fertilizer, you know?"

"So, this is your garden?"

"Planted it myself, back when I was Doom's head chef and could count myself among the living."

"Did Victor murder you?"

"Heavens to Doom, no. Died of what you might call 'natural causes.' Went peacefully in my sleep."

"Oh, that's too bad. Though I suppose that's the kind of death most mortals aspire to, now that I think of it. But shouldn't you have—I don't know, gone on to wherever it is your people go after death? I always thought that only those with unfinished business lingered on in the plane of the living."

"Well, I have to make sure no one disturbs my garden, don't I? You had best put that plant back the way you found it, unless you'd like me to haunt you for the rest of your life."

"Alright, alright, I'm putting it back." Loki moved the soil back with his hands, carefully replacing the coriander plant.

Natasha put her flashlight down and placed the back of her hand on Loki's forehead. "Loki, are you feeling alright?"

"I'm fine. I'm just talking to the ghost of the woman who planted this coriander, and she insists that I put it back or she's going to haunt me for the rest of my life." Loki looked to the ghost of Doom's old chef, who nodded as if she were satisfied with his work, before stepping back and fading into the blackness of the night.

Natasha picked up the bag with the broken vase in it and tossed it into a nearby rubbish bin. "Come on. I think we need to get you back to bed. If you do catch pneumonia out here, Bruce might just throw me back across the Sokovian border."

へ(^^へ)～-Happy Halloween

Breakfast had been brought up to their rooms that morning. Maybe Doom hadn't wanted to risk another group meal with them. He and Loki seemed to have made up the night before, and maybe he wanted to leave things on that note. He hadn't even come down to the foyer with Frigga to see them off.

"Loki, you don't look well," Frigga said. "Are you feeling ill?"

"I'm fine, Mother. I just didn't get much sleep last night."

"Oh, poor dear," Frigga said, pulling him into a hug. "Though now that you mention it, Victor and I didn't get much sleep either—"

Loki pushed her away, somehow looking paler than he already had. "That's it. I'm ready to go back to New York now."

"I could open a portal back to the tower," Frigga offered.

"That's alright," Natasha told her. "Clint has been waiting for us at the airport in Sokovia for three days. If he realizes that we could have had you open a portal to send us back to New York all along, he'll try out his new crossbow on all of us."

Bruce thought about arguing for taking the direct portal home even if they did incur Clint's wrath, but as much as he wanted to go home, he wasn't sure yet what he would do once he got there. Part of him wanted to run and lose himself in the mountains right now, but there was too much of a chance that the others would follow him. If he was going to disappear, he needed to do it when it would take them some time to miss him. Or he could tell them he was leaving and try to convince them that it was for the best, but he doubted he would be able to convince Tony or Leonard, or Loki for that matter.

Bruce watched Natasha, Thor, and Loki step through the portal Frigga had made for them. On the other side of it, he could see the airport in Sokovia, and if he'd been in a better mood, he would have had a million questions about how that worked. He stepped towards the portal himself, but Frigga placed a hand on his arm to stop him. "You are a good man, Bruce. Never doubt that. I want to thank you and Lord Stark for taking such good care of both my children."

Bruce wondered if she had only said it because she had sensed how depressed he had been since their return. He forced himself to give her a small smile in response, but that was as much as he could manage. He stepped through the portal before she could say anything else.

...φ(ｰ￣*)

Author's Note:

If I hadn't had a copy of Diana Wynne Jone's The Tough Guide to Fantasyland on hand, I might never have figured out how to spell "geas." ("Geasa" is the plural of geas.)

I decided to add the "ghosts" part at the last minute, when it occured to me that they were going to be staying the night in Doom's castle on Halloween...

I'm not making all of this stuff up, by the way. Thor being Odin's bastard and having a secret half-sister who was believed to be murdered as a baby? Cannon from Earth-616, the main continuity in which most Marvel comics take place d(-_^)

Zora Vukovic is also from the comics.