The weight of the previous day settled over the house and the Avengers finally allowed themselves to rest. Thor was perhaps the only one that didn't take the opportunity to catch at least a few hours sleep. Emotionally drained, Book had eventually collapsed from exhaustion on the great room couch. Clint was supposed to be sitting with him in case he woke up, but the archer had drifted off as well, face pressed into the side of the armchair, mouth slightly open.
Even Loki had given in. Given in to the exhaustion. Given in to the knot of distress balled beneath his ribs. Given in to the empty tear where the magic had been.
He'd nearly drifted off in the shower as he rinsed away the ache in his fatigued muscles. Mortals were not built for the kind of night he'd had. A bleary thought wormed its way into his sleep fuddled mind: he'd run Clint far longer than this during the invasion. He hadn't even considered the fact that the archer was mortal and didn't have the stamina reserves of an Asgardian. He didn't remember ever seeing Barton sleep, he'd just been there, loyal, and ready to serve at all times.
If he'd been less wrung out, Loki might have laughed at the maudlin absurdity of such thoughts. But he was too tired for such defenses. The thing was, he'd liked Barton, and yet he hadn't thought a thing about what he was doing to him. Another few days at Loki's side and Clint would have been dead. His mortal frame would simply have given out. Staff or no staff, anyone else would have given in to the need for rest—but not Clint. The staff couldn't create loyalty or dedication—it merely directed it all to a new source. That tenacity was all Clint Barton.
Collapsing onto the bed, Loki wondered what it would be like to be truly worth of such devotion rather than a usurping pretender.
It was moonlight rather than sunlight that finally woke him. The sliver of light cut through his curtains and prodded him into unwelcome wakefulness. His first movement brought a painful reminder of all that had occurred. Book was a wolf. And he had made him that way. Worse, he didn't even know where to begin fixing it because, despite his optimistic lies to the Avengers, he very much doubted this would resolve itself. Skuld wasn't likely to make it that easy.
He needed to think—and stretch his cramped muscles.
Slipping soundlessly through the house, he let himself out and stepped into the hazy autumn moonlight. His breath fogged in the cool stillness. A handful of lights in the house spilled amber light onto the lawn. The sense that he was being watched drew his eyes upwards. Above him, Book stood on the porch, caught in the shadow of the jutting kitchen.
The brown and green sparks of his eyes gleamed in the darkness, but Loki couldn't understand the swirl of emotions he saw there. Instead, he turned away, pretending he hadn't seen Book. The woods closed around him and he left the house behind.
Thor dropped down beside Book, carefully setting his hammer at his feet. Silhouetted against the moon, Loki could just be seen up the side of the hill, feet dangling over the edge of a rock outcropping. Book's head was on his paws, watching the distant figure. His sides lifted in a wolfy sigh.
"You are confused," said Thor finally. He did not look down to see the questioning look settle in the mismatched eyes. "He has walked in darkness, betrayed you, and you can practically see the stain of blood beneath his skin. He cannot be trusted." Thor clasped his large hands together and let his head drop to rest against them. "But you wish to."
Book gave a questioning grunt.
Thor looked down with a gentle smile. "That you care for him is obvious." The boy growled and hunched his shoulders. "And his actions do not eclipse that love. You look at him and it is as if you are looking at two different people at once. The one you thought you knew and…the other. The creature of blood and shadows, twisted malice and madness." Thor waited, one eyebrow raised in question.
Jerking his head away, Book refused to look at him. He gave a snort. With reluctance he turned to gaze up at Thor and gave a quick nod.
The Thunderer gave a heavy sigh. "I wish that I could simply tear this poisonous taint from him—but even if he could return from this, he will never be free of what he has done. And I," Thor paused and shook his head, "if he were anyone but who he is, I would hate him for what he has done—and perhaps I do, but I also love him and wish that I could wipe away these past few years."
Book raised up, eyes wide with understanding. He bobbed his head in agreement. A large hand rested atop his head as Thor looked him full in the face.
"But wishing will not make it so. We must deal with what is, no matter how painful it may be."
The boy's face fell and he gave a plaintive whine.
Thor looked out at the backlit figure that was getting to its feet and turning toward them. "We walk uncharted paths—we must simply keep going for brighter days." He looked down in surprise as Book laid his shaggy head in his lap, sorrow written across his face. The Thunderer reached down and gently stroked the silken fur, twining his fingers through the black streak. "You are no longer alone—and though he may deny it, my brother cares for you. As do we all."
The two sat in silence as the night sounds faded into sleep, replaced by the first birds of morning. Quiet footsteps approached.
"Should I be worried at this truce?" murmured Loki as he leaned against the deck railing.
Book gave a short yip.
Thor frowned and turned to Loki for a translation.
Loki gave a disgruntled huff. "He says you're not as much of a jerk as he first thought."
A/N: I know…it's short. I humbly beg pardon. I just didn't adequately have time to expand this chapter properly—I can barely keep my head above water with work right now, but what little is here I like. Ugh, I need more Loki and Clint stories in my life, and if he weren't one of the hardest characters to write for me I'd probably try my hand at some, but noooo, he has to be difficult!
You'll get some meatier chapters coming up. Promise!
Next Week: Loki knew from the moment he drained his magic he wouldn't be able to help Book. With his back to the wall, what other choice does he have but to do something drastic?
RedHood001: You're right, Loki isn't exactly the "squishy wizard trope." Compared to other ace Asgardians like Thor and the Warriors Three he's slightly less skilled if you don't let him use his magic, but he's far from weak or poorly trained. I like to think maybe it doesn't come quite as easily to him as the others, but he made up for that with practice and grit.
I didn't know about the sword! That's really cool.
Pouffy kitteh: Oh, good point! I hadn't thought about the effect Odin's death would have had if he'd placed the spell on Loki to change his shape—mostly I try and block most of that movie from my memory. 😉
The destroyer of fate: Why thank you, what a courteous note from someone with such a dire sounding name…also a name that is weirdly related to themes of this story.