Chapter 15: Sweet Disposition

I think I can remember the first three years of my life. I was in the castle. Everyday I woke up and Daddy was in the bed next to me. He would brush my hair, give me a bath, and play with me. I wonder if he liked it when I braided his hair. Probably not, his braids were always better than mine. When he was away Grandma would always tell me that he would come back. He did. Every time he returned he gave me a big hug and would say how much he missed me. On those days he would spend much more time with me. Sometimes I could feel him stroke my hair, even when I was asleep. He wanted to make sure I was okay, or maybe he missed me so much and was sad that he was away from me.

I didn't mind. I love my Daddy. He's the best Daddy in the world. I like Uncle Thor and Grandma and Grandpa, but Daddy is much better than them. He's always there for me.

But then one day, he didn't come back.

I don't remember what happened after Daddy left for a month. Thor once said that I cried a lot, but I don't remember that. I don't remember that month at all.

All I remember is when Daddy came back, but it wasn't the same. I had to stay up past my bedtime and I couldn't hug him. He would read me stories and tell me how much he loved me. I just wanted him to tuck me in and comfort me when I cried like he used to.

He said that when he won I would live with him again. I did hug him again, but it was in a jail cell. Grandpa wouldn't let him sleep in our room anymore. I hated sleeping in a room without my Daddy. It took me a bit to get used to.

But now he's out of his jail cell and running Asgard. That should have fixed everything, so why can't I live with my Daddy? No one knows where he is except me. If anyone knows where he is, then Uncle Thor, Steve, and Natasha would take him away from me again. I can't let that happen.

My Daddy is the only blood family I have. Sometimes I think that my Mummy will come to Earth and pick me up, but Daddy seems certain that she won't come back from Valhalla. So I have to depend on him.

I need to wait until I can live with Daddy again. I'll do whatever it takes to make that happen.

"You really do have quite the talent of sneaking up on people," said Loki, his back still facing Natasha. "This is the second time you've done it to me, which is very impressive."

"Do you have a quip for everything?" she responded, her tone filled with annoyance.

"What did you expect? I'm the God of Mischief. I make the tensest of moments light-hearted."

"Are you stalling so you can think of an escape?"

"Perhaps," he said as he turned around, a visible smirk on his face.

There is no escape plan for him, Natasha realized. Was he planning to talk this out? If so, then this would be a lot easier.

"You found me, Romanoff," he mockingly surrendered, the grin remaining as he put his hands into his pockets with a shrug. "Congratulations. You can shoot me down right now if you wish, put me in handcuffs and throw me into a cell with constant surveillance, never to see my only daughter again. I am, after all, a war criminal that escaped containment, so I should be apprehended right away."

Damn, she thought. He figured it out right away.

"You're not usually this silent," Loki said with a quirked eyebrow. "I presume that my assumptions are correct?"

"You really do catch on quickly," she responded. "And you are just as talkative as ever."

Loki chuckled to himself in relief. Feigning calmness proved effective. Even someone as suave as himself would panic at the thought of their child being taken away from them. He risked his own security and started a trail of never ending lies to at least be in contact with Eira. Oh gods he really put her in some danger as well. If everyone knew that she was aware of his status as King of Asgards, would she be punished? Would he ever see her again?

Natasha knew that he faked his disappearance, but seemingly had no knowledge that he had overtook Odin. Maybe she thought that he had not committed any crimes?

"I know how you work, Loki," she finally spoke again, interrupting his train of thought. "You can come up with a deep-rooted plan in a millisecond. Sometimes it's based on the current behavior and movements of those around you, other times it's long-lasting, as you're predicting the behavior during a long period of time.

"But it's never that way with Eira. You'll sacrifice your security just to see if she's alright. She's the only blood relation you have, and you are her only living parent, a duty which you take very seriously. If you go away, all you can think about is the pain your daughter is experiencing. Her loneliness, the realization that she has been left alone, angry that you willingly left for your own selfish desires."

The Red Room lessons in maintaining a poker face were incredibly useful. The instructors thought an emotionless expression would be effective in interrogations and threats, though Natasha considered such tactics especially efficient in appealing to sentiment and family.

She remembered the lessons of her youth as she walked toward Loki, her head tilted slightly as she refused to break eye contact with him.

"Loki, everyone knows that you are a selfish man. Your schemes are all for your benefit. But when Eira was born, she became a central point in your schemes. We both know that you wouldn't disappear – fake or not – without telling her."

He suppressed the urge to squint. He was frustrated, and secretly impressed, that she managed to deduce his motivations and perfectly summarize his emotions. Keeping a calm presence could still be maintained, he knew, but if he didn't act soon, Natasha would surely apprehend him.

There was still the question regarding whether she was aware of his current status as the false king of Asgard or not. Perhaps her next speech would provide an answer.

"You'll be pleased to hear that you are absolutely right, Romanoff," Loki said as his stance lagged, his expression annoyed at her lengthy statements. "So tell me, what's my master plan? You have every detail of my motivations, therefore, you must know what I'm plotting. What am I doing to get my daughter back?"

"Nothing," Natasha said bluntly.

Huh?

What the fuck?

Somehow the shocking answer hit him like a dagger. Did the Black Widow herself truly come to the conclusion that the God of Mischief was up to no malicious trickery whatsoever? Were his ears working correctly? Had the world gone fucking insane?

"I beg your pardon?" he asked.

"You don't have any plans," she responded. "Well, not any as of this moment. Whatever happened back on Asgard, whatever attack made Eira move with me and Steve, you saw a chance to be with your daughter more. You wouldn't get to see much of her growing up if you stayed in that prison cell, especially since you were given a life sentence."

Loki couldn't act completely surprised at her deductions, she might notice his awe and confusion and consider his true plots. As a human, she probably would not assume that he had secretly dethroned Odin and sent him to some retirement home, but she might discover his location.

To avoid further suspicion, it would be best to humor the Black Widow.

"I don't know why I'm so shocked at your reveal that you found the truth," lied Loki. "Perhaps I thought you would detail your findings much more cinematically, if that's the right word. You are familiar with my ambition, so I expected your deductions to match that."

"I just gave you sympathy for wanting to be with your daughter and you respond with such ego," Natasha said with the shake of her head, exhausted by the exchange.

"Your form of sympathy is quite intimidating."

"Well, that's the Russian in me."

Eira snored lightly from her bed, making the adults turn toward her sleeping form. The stuffed wolf was firm in her grasp, cuddling it with all of her might, though her body appeared peaceful. Raven curls were sticking up in multiple directions as if she had been asleep for many days.

"Surprised she didn't wake up during our conversation," said Natasha, her smile as bright as Loki's as they gazed upon the sleepy girl.

"She's a deep sleeper," whispered Loki. "She's been like that since she could sleep through the night. However, I don't know how she developed that trait. Neither me nor her mother are deep sleepers. Maybe she got it by observing Thor."

Natasha chuckled. Silence followed, both unsure of what to say to one another since their interrogations were interrupted by such a wholesome sight.

The Russian, wanting to remain comforted by the sight of Eira blissfully unaware of the tension that brewed to its highest mere minutes ago, spared a glance at Loki.

His face held a warm smile, his jade eyes glossy with gleeful sentiment. At his most paternal, his tone was kind, the inhabitants of the universe only him and his daughter; this really was the same man that viciously threatened to brutally torture and kill her closest comrade in front of her very eyes.

As Eira grew, Loki's pride for her was never ending, though he did miss the days when she was entirely dependent on him. The sometimes sleepless nights were never sought over, however. The occasional moments of peace where an infant Eira slept against his shoulder while in his hold. Her warm, pitiful breaths distracted Loki from the chaos of his royal life, a time before criminal activity was in his path. In reality, it was desperation, though Loki wouldn't dare to consider himself as such, not even in his own thoughts.

Unlike three years ago, his attention was purely directed toward the only family he had left.

Loki could mask his emotions with expert ease, but when his mind drifted to that of the wellbeing of his daughter, his disposition was overflowing.

"I don't plan on telling any of the Avengers about tonight," interrupted Natasha. "No reason to alert them if you're not up to anything."

His instincts told him to turn his head to her with eyes bulging in shock. After a confrontation with many revelations, she was about to let him leave without any harm.

Normally he would have thrown a malicious jest, judging her true character and doubting her intentions.

But here he was, hiding from his enemies so he could safely see his daughter, facing one of those enemies who was unbothered by his secrets (well, those that she knew of). Any opportunity such as this was rare in the atmosphere of espionage and constant threats of battle.

Maybe, just this once, he would accept her offer.

"I'll do my best to keep that arrangement," Loki finally responded.

Loki surely had interesting ways of saying "thank you".

Natasha herself was not accustomed to such compliments. Even responding with a simple "you're welcome" felt like she was showing signs of weakness. All she could do was appreciate that he was cooperating.

"Gonna assume we're both pretty exhausted," she said. "And we don't want to risk Eira waking up and panicking."

"Agreed," he said in acknowledgement.

He leaned forward and bent his head, kissing his daughter's forehead. Turning away from Natasha, he lifted his hand and prepared to snap his fingers.

"Just make sure you stay out of trouble," Natasha said before he could depart.

Loki couldn't hold back a laugh.

"Will do."

A trail of green mist was left behind, and Eira smiled in her sleep.

Interlude

A shot into the past.

How family can crumble. How it can be born anew from a fresh garden.

Her bright, cheery exterior was a defense mechanism, she realized when she reached adulthood. The Brandt family, known by their village for their strength and strikingly red hair. Some were intelligent, some were brash. They knew their limits and advantages, and no one could fault them for it.

Once Brandt became the patriarch, arrogance declared itself king.

He was tough, even overshadowing that of the manly ancestors he took inspiration from. He took a beautiful wife with a fear of her heritage as a Skriver – women who could understand every language that were eventually hunted and killed, with only a handful left – and wished to give her the son they both wanted.

Runa, their little girl, was an underwhelming start to their growing family, slowly becoming a disappointment once the couple failed to produce any more children.

She recognized that her former living situation was toxic with a possible development to danger. It was easy to move on once she ran away.

Repressed memories were a bitch, however.

Twelve weeks pregnant and cuddling with her lover while they slumbered, she began to remember her youthful pride in her intelligence that was met with scowls, shaking of heads, and slaps to the face.

She opened her eyes, face continuing to lean against Loki's firm shoulder. He should have provided warmth and comfort, but she couldn't stop the pain of the cuts and bruises from returning. Even when she did her best, they were angry at her. She was being herself, not harming others, so why was she being punished.

Her stomach turned. She couldn't confirm whether it was a result of her returning trauma or the baby. Whatever the cause, it led her to the washroom, violently emptying the contents of her stomach into the toilet.

The puking ended quickly, but she remained crouched, breathing heavily as sweat dripped down her cold back.

"Runa!" Loki whispered with relief, crouching with her and hugging her trembling frame. He knew this was not a usual session of morning sickness, she immediately determined.

"Sorry Loki, I-" she shook her head before she could finish. Had she ever told others about her family life, even as the pain was being inflicted? "I remembered…"

His eyes squinted in worrying, his arms wrapping around her tighter.

Loki cared about her. He loved her. She would be alright.

"I suddenly remembered the pain they caused. The hits of my… of my family."

Runa thought she would be sobbing more, but only small tears slowly dripped down her tears. She didn't have to look up to see that Loki's eyes widened. He knew that her family was verbally not fond of her, but stories of physical abuse were forgein to him.

"Oh Runa," he sobbed, pressing gentle, loving kisses to her hair. "I'm so sorry. So sorry."

She closed her eyes to prevent more years from falling. She instinctually put a hand on her slightly swollen stomach. Could the baby have been affected by the sudden remembrance of its mother's trauma? No, despite being ever so small, she could sense the child inside her. She almost sighed in relief.

Loki placed his hand on top of hers, stroking her hand and belly with the most tender stroke.

"They're gone," he whispered in reassurance. "They're far away. I won't let him hurt you anymore. They won't lay a finger on you two, I promise."

The comfort and affectionate words of her mother were beginning to lure her back into sleep. She felt her face mutter a "thank you" as her eyes fluttered with exhaustion.

After a passionate kiss to her forehead, Loki lifted her into his arms.

It was then she knew, this is what family is meant to be.

She could leave her family behind. Loki and their future bundle of joy would be her new, more welcoming family that would never leave her behind.

Sentiment is rather strong.

It was tradition to honor those who entered the gates of Valhalla. They lived their lives well, and spent the rest of time with their passed loved ones while observing those roaming the Nine Realms. Some sentiment was sprinkled in for the more bittersweet deaths, a method of grief which Loki never understood. People die, everyone knows that.

Then Runa died after giving birth to their daughter. She was only two days from becoming an eon old. She never witnessed her anticipation of raising Eira with a loving family.

Loki experienced sentiment during each stage of grief. It even lingered after the acceptance phase.

He thought he would visit burials purely to honor the deceased, not to tell his lover about all she missed.

The petals of the erikas, where, underneath, Runa's ash laid, fluttered in the gentle breeze entering the palace gardens. After her body was burned in Asgardian tradition, Loki wanted her remains buried where they had their first moments alone together, under the seeds of the flower they named their daughter after. The sight itself brought tears to Loki's eyes.

Taking a deep breath, he sat down in front of the flowers.

"Hello, my love. Sorry for not visiting for a few months. Royal life and raising Eira, well, it's kept me quite busy.

"Eira is turning eighteen months old tomorrow. It's so strange, seeing this little girl who can only speak in nonsense sentences and yet loving her personality. She laughs so much and despite not understanding the concept of love, she seems to love her family. Whenever I come back from battle, she greets me by hugging the back of my leg. She does it with Thor sometimes, but she's quite attached to me. Some say that she prefers being around me more than a usual child her age should, and perhaps I'm enabling that.

"I guess after…" he couldn't finish speaking his thoughts, they were much too harsh. Eighteen months had passed since her death and Loki took to caring for Eira to solve his grief, though maybe diverting much of his time to her and not around others wasn't the best for her social health.

Wait, was he really about to speak at his beloved's burial about how he was not properly raising the very daughter she died for?

Quite ridiculous to think that, as Eira has been developing wonderfully, thank you very much. If there were any issues then he would gladly fix them. He would do anything for his daughter, anything to make Runa smile from Vahalla.

"She would have loved you," he continued. "We would have been a happy little family. We only knew one another for over a year when she was born but I can't imagine starting a family with anyone else but you. It sounds childish and so fairy tale-like, yet I cannot deny my feelings. I wish we could have learned more about each other. There was so much I never told you. Some things I never told anyone… Things perhaps not accepted by our culture. But I'm certain that you would have understood. And if Eira is anything like you, she'll understand as well.

"I can feel myself longing for your comfort and advice. I can't look back on the past, however, not as I'm raising Eira. I'm sure you understand. I think of what you might say, if that is any consideration. And I always try to care for Eira in ways that would make you proud.

"Sorry to say this, but I'm running short on time. I left Eira with the childminder workers. I have to leave for a meeting and it might be best to play with her - and hopefully get her to nap - before I attend if it lasts longer than expected. I will visit again. One day I'll bring Eira, I promise."

Loki stood up, a bright, yet sentimental, smile on his face. He glanced toward the exit, thinking of Eira innocently playing with Hati either in their chambers or, more likely to Loki, taken by Thor, being oh so very over caring toward his little brother.

He looked at the flowers once again, giving a curt nod.

"Farewell, my love."

Loki did not have to walk far to locate his daughter. Before the entrance to the fields reached his vision, he heard Sif lightly scolding Thor for roughly playing with Eira. Loki didn't know if he was laughing at being correct or simply knowing that Eira was still playing after he left (or perhaps both).

Thor was allowing Eira to tug on strands of his golden hair. He was holding her hand, not paying attention to her actions as he talked with Sif.

Her uncle's hair must have been quite fascinating, as she failed to notice her father walking toward her until he was several yards away.

Loki extended his arms once she exclaimed "dada!" She waddled her way to him. She released the cutest squeal as Loki lifted her into his hold. Wrapping her arms around his neck with a giggle, she settled her head to fit perfectly in his collarbone. Loki giggled with her as he tickled her thigh and placed a kiss on her forehead.

Maybe Thor and Sif were smiling at them, though Loki felt like the world was only him and Eira.

Eira wondered if every planet in the universe had their own education system. Well, maybe hers was a bit different compared to average Asgardians, but she didn't remember tutor Davynn putting much emphasis on mathematics. And according to Natasha's snarky comment, learning differed from country to country.

"You think that since America has been around for two and a half centuries that they would have some universal standard for education."

New York still had its education requirements, and with Eira's intelligence and wealth she was born into – along with financial status of her uncle's allies – receiving a high quality learning experience was expected.

Everyone knew that her reading and comprehension skills were decidedly advanced for a child her age. She was knowledgable in counting and basic arithmetic, so helping her learn more was a simple task. History was the most fascinating subject for the princess. Since she was a toddler she showed interest in learning about the origins of all the Nine Realms, and Midgard, according to her, had the richest history.

The Avengers were happy to teach her about whatever she wanted (Stark, however, usually stood back in avoidance). Steve was happy to tell her about the atmosphere in America during the second World War. Natasha was patient at explaining math, sometimes adding her own flair to the course materials. Sam, whenever he visited, provided her with breaks. He brought his N64 and Playstation 2 with him to the Tower once Eira moved there, as he knew that the girl would treat the consoles with care and fun.

Sometimes Thor was curious as to her learning materials, glancing at a passage or two before shaking his head in impatience, finding much more entertainment in playing with his niece.

Eira was surprised that she was growing so close to people who were strangers to her months ago. They cared for her wellbeing and wanted her to have the best possible life.

Maybe, just maybe, she could consider them family.

Loki may claim otherwise, but she knew her true feelings. No one could rob her of that.