NOTE: Here we are at the final chapter. You'll see at the end where the series is going from here, but before that I wanted to thank all of you readers, and especially the commenters that keep me going while it's posting!
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
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Loki shut the door of his small hotel room and looked without interest at the white-and-black striped covers on the bed. He plugged his phone in to charge it, and turned on the television to distract himself.
But he found nothing worth watching and turned it off. Wandering to the window, he lifted the thick curtain out of the way, and looked out at the night. The town's lights were not so bright as to hide all view of the stars.
Noticing the window could open, he lifted the sash, ducked beneath, and sat on the sill, dangling his feet.
A rumbling groan announced the neighboring window was opening and Natasha poked her head out, looking unsurprised to find him sitting in the window. "You want company?" she asked.
"Sure," he answered, figuring she would sit on her own window sill. But when she climbed outside, she crouched and held out her hand. When he reached out to take it, she was too far to take her hand. She jumped.
Startled, as her hand curled around his arm, he instinctively grabbed her wrist. Reaching for her with his other hand, he caught her weight as she rotated her body enough for her foot to catch his window sill. Using his arm as a lever, she pulled herself up. "Are you mad?" he challenged, a little breathless, when she was half inside his window and in no danger of falling. What if she'd fallen? Or he'd lost his grip? Or...
"I knew you would catch me," she answered with such a lack of doubt, he found he had nothing to say. She wriggled herself to sit next to him. After a silence, where he turned his attention back toward the sky and the familiar rooftops, she touched the back of his hand. "I'm sorry about the creature."
"I wish I had known it was there," he murmured. "Elsa never told me it existed- maybe she didn't know. It should not have been independent of her, but somehow it continued."
"And you had to end it."
He rested his head against the window, seeing the whole event play out in his memory. "I chased it farther up into the snowfields. I presume it hides up there in the summer. I could barely see it, white on white, and it attacked me twice. But I grabbed it," he held out his palm cupped, "and then," he repeated the gesture that had pulled out the seidr animating it. "It didn't resist. It collapsed and was gone."
And with it, something else of Elsa's was destroyed forever. He couldn't even be sad about it, with the grief unable to reach him through the layer of numbness enclosing him. Not that he wanted to feel it- he would rather forget all of it had happened. He only wanted to sit in the air and pretend that coming here hadn't been a terrible mistake.
"Lukas," Natasha said after several minutes of silence. "I was wrong to bring you here. I'm sorry."
Hearing her echo his thought, made him reconsider and he shook his head. "No. It is home, or at least was once. Now, I don't know." He looked out at the lights of the city. "Can you feel a place is home when there is so much sadness?"
"I wouldn't know," she allowed after a moment. "The Red Room was never home. And after that, there were only places to stay, not 'home' in the sentimental sense."
"What of your family?" he asked. "Do you remember them?"
She hesitated before shaking her head. "I have some images, feelings, but I don't know if they're real, or a little girl's imagination."
"You didn't try to find your parents?" he asked. "Later?"
She gave a little shrug. "They're dead."
He thought of Odin and Frigga being dead, and his mind shied away from it, unwilling to go there. As much as he wanted to be apart from them and as angry as he was at them, he didn't want them gone either. And there were his other 'parents' of bloodline that he rather wished were dead, so he could forget they had ever existed. But of certainty the Red Room had been a far worse fosterage than his, and to lose her parents besides was a sorrow.
"I think they would be proud of what you've become, Natalya."
She shook her head once and replied in a voice little more than a shadow, "No, I'm sure they would be ashamed of what I've done."
It hurt to hear the belief, and he shook his head in denial. But he didn't want to force her to air what she was so ashamed of doing, so he tried to lighten up the grim conversation and let her know how he believed in her. "Nonsense. Are you not the trusted companion of the hero Captain America? Did you not single-handedly save the legendary Ice Demon, me, from the perfidious Strucker and his minions?"
Her lips quirked in a reluctant smile. "Not single-handedly."
He waved it off as unimportant. "Close enough. How could any parent not be amazed by such offspring? No, were they alive, they would be astonished that their blood produced you. Astonished and proud." He seized her hand and kissed her palm. He was tempted to see how far she'd let him kiss her, but after a glance at their perch and the distance to the ground, he decided not to play games with her safety. The fall was no trouble for him, but she might be hurt and he wouldn't take the chance.
He folded her fingers over where he'd kissed and let go of her hand, feeling oddly bereft afterward. He glanced back inside the room toward the bed, imagining her warmth against his, but turned away. Who knew what embarrassing thing he would do in that sort of intimacy? It was better to keep to himself.
The uncertain flicker of her lips wasn't quite a smile, but more genuine than most of her expressions, that she was touched by the compliment but couldn't quite believe it. "That's kind-"
"Not kind," he interrupted. "True."
She shook her head. "You can't know that."
He lifted his brows at her. "Of course I can. Have I not met more human parents than you can imagine?" But he stopped and his humor slipped away, as he was struck by the knowledge that he knew because he was a parent- had been a parent. Not that Elsa had particularly needed a father, since she was already grown when they'd met, but he'd been proud of her.
He had to look away from Natasha, as his chest felt tight at the reminder that it was all ashes now. The castle was ruined, the book was gone, her ice creature destroyed… everything of her had been stripped from him.
Not everything - the toy ball Thor had given to Elsa's baby, that still existed, but it was little comfort since he didn't have it. He might never get it back, whatever Coulson had promised.
"You're thinking about her?" Natasha asked in a murmur.
Wishing he weren't quite so transparent to her, he made himself smile and spun a different tale instead, "Actually I was thinking of the Bartons. Since a pony and drums appear to be out of the question for Lila's birthday or I risk their parental wrath, only a lightsaber will do. So I was pondering how I might create one for her."
She eyed him, but added dryly, "One she can't cut off her foot with, preferably."
He frowned at her, trying to look serious. "Where's the challenge in creating one that doesn't work?"
She chuckled. "I'm not buying that. You know better."
"I am intrigued by the technical problem," he admitted. "But no I would not give Lila one so dangerous. But I think I might be able to make one that works more realistically than the toys they sell. But I would need some sort of facility."
She hesitated, and he knew she was thinking of SHIELD, which certainly had the technical supplies and which he would also reject. "How about you talk to Stark? His tower's full of things you might be able to play with and he did mention he'd like to talk to you when you were up for it."
Loki had a vague memory of Tony Stark in the hospital in Sokovia, and nodded. "That's an excellent idea, Natalya. Thank you." But he was suddenly restless and no longer wanted to sit in the window and watch stars. "I think I will go find somewhere loud and energetic to while away a few hours. I will meet you for breakfast."
She called his name as he slipped off the window sill and let himself fall to the ground. The gravel path below crunched beneath his boots, making it an easy landing, and he waved up at her before heading off to find something to do.
In the morning, Lukas was wearing the green shirt that Natasha had liked so much on him the last time they were in this town. It fit snugly, tucked into black jeans, and when he put a long black wool coat over it, it reminded her strongly of his armor. It also drew eyes, and she knew that was the intention since he didn't need the coat, but she couldn't blame him for wanting positive attention. He seemed in a good humor after his night out, jesting with both Natasha and Steve at breakfast. She was glad to see it, even if she knew most of it was meant to deflect from any serious conversation.
She was wearing her civilian clothes, too, sidearm at her back under her jacket and a knife in her low boot. Steve had left his tac suit and the shield in the quinjet, and he didn't mention anything about Lukas destroying the creature, turning back Lukas' teasing mildly.
As they headed outside, it occurred to her to wonder where Lukas' shirt had come from, since he'd been wearing the shirt when he'd been taken captive. It looked real and felt real when she brushed the silk sleeve to check surreptitiously, but it couldn't be the same shirt. But she didn't bother to ask, since the answer was obviously magic. She must be getting used to it.
Lukas shared historical tidbits about the waterfront as they ambled along. Nothing personal, she noticed; he was keeping a distance between himself and what he was talking about. His pace was slow and she realized what he was doing when he stopped to give a recitation on the building at the corner of the square, and he put his back to the bronze statue in the middle.
"Lukas," she cut in softly in a pause in his chatter. "Let's show Steve the statue."
The words died away, and he had to swallow before turning with a forced amusement. "Well, yes, the absurdity is this way, if you want a closer look."
Unlike the last time Natasha had seen it, now there were several bouquets of flowers, two plums, and a jar of plum preserves left on the base of the statue. Arendelle knew he was back, even if no one knew Luke Rendell was the Ice Demon.
He snorted at the jar. "So, what do you think?" he asked Steve. "Mind you don't mock it, because I can show you far worse things for Captain America. Natalya will back me up on that."
Steve folded his arms and regarded the statue before nodding. "Dull pose, but it looks like you in the face. Not bad. I like it."
Lukas rolled his eyes. "You have terrible taste."
Steve turned, smiling. "It's well-balanced, the wolves are dramatic, it's a good depiction of you…."
"It's ridiculous," Lukas replied shortly. "I was barely in this nation. This shouldn't exist. All of this-" he gestured to the offerings on the pedestal, jaw tight, "It's someone else, not me." He turned on his heel and walked down the shallow steps, coat flapping at his legs like a cape. "Come, there is a fishing museum. You should visit."
Natasha could think of little she was less interested in seeing than a fishing museum, but she didn't think Lukas was either. His main intent seemed to be in heading the opposite direction from the castle.
"Lukas," Steve went after him. "Wait." When Lukas stopped, Steve circled around. "Look, I wasn't - I'm not - happy with how Captain America became bigger than I am. It's become a symbol, just like the Ice Demon has become one here."
"I didn't ask to become their symbol!" Lukas retorted, voice harsh and eyes blazing.
Natasha might have challenged that, since he had asked for it by using the name in the first place, but Steve kept his tone soft. "That doesn't matter. You can't pretend it didn't happen, or it's not you."
"I can. What they want, is a phantom. A saviour," he snarled the word. "That is most certainly not me."
He stalked away, and behind his back, Natasha and Steve exchanged a glance.
Lukas got a few paces away and stopped again, arms folded. They followed after, and Natasha tried first, now that she understood. "They're not asking you to save them, you know. They're thanking you for what you already did." His lips parted to object, but she overrode him, knowing what he was about to say, "No, stop, you're not seeing it. They were under brutal occupation, the people were threatened and getting murdered, and you answered their call for help. You don't feel like you did very much, but you answered. You were a real person who gave them hope that it would end. And it did."
Steve jumped in. "That's the thing I learned in the war. Captain America isn't about me, not really. I just have to keep the image out of the mud, and it'll outlast me. It's a legacy, at this point, just as the Ice Demon is, for you."
Lukas pondered that before he snorted. "It's me but it's not me. Make up your mind."
But beneath the surly comment, there was some genuine understanding breaking through and Steve heard it. "We do what we can. Try to be true to their ideal, but at the end of the day, we can't let it imprison us. We have to live our lives, too."
Natasha wondered how much of that Steve had articulated for himself before and how much would stick, but for the moment, it seemed to help Lukas, who nodded slow acceptance.
She jested lightly, "That's why I'm glad I'm a spy, not a superhero. No public image to live up to."
"Hang around us long enough, and you will," Lukas said, and even though he was making a joke, she grimaced thinking it was probably true. "So, fish museum?" he prompted, waving his hand to invite them to continue on.
"How about you show us the castle?" Natasha asked.
Lukas stilled, something dark and angry glinted in his eyes that she kept prodding him to do things he didn't want to do, and then he gave a disarming smile, gesturing, "You can see it from here. There's nothing left."
Steve glanced at it before turning back to Lukas. "I know the Nazis destroyed it, Lukas. And I remember how upset you were when you found out. You haven't been there, have you?" When Lukas didn't answer, Steve knew and said, "Let's go visit."
"There's nothing there," Lukas repeated, petulantly.
But Steve ignored that, to get to the heart of the problem. "We'll be with you. Come on."
"Fine," Lukas snapped. "You want to see a pile of rubble and some grass? Let's go see it." He marched across the pavement of the square and the path along the quay, but his anger didn't last, since he seemed to have a need to tell them about the castle as it had been. "This was a causeway before they filled in this side. Probably with the rubble from the castle."
A low wall marked the perimeter of the castle property, now landscaped with low hedges and rose bushes. There was an open metal gate and a sign proclaiming the place a park. Lukas paused. "The gate looked very different then, and the wall was much higher."
On the grounds, there were explanatory displays along the pathways, including copies of photos of the place before its destruction. Lukas ignored them, as he ignored anything modern.
"The courtyard," he murmured and turned in place to look. The courtyard itself was grass and stone cobbles in no particular order, only what was left of them. The castle itself was mostly leveled, leaving a warren of partial walls. Natasha wondered what he was seeing as he turned slowly in place, because he wasn't seeing what was left.
He headed to the west, taking a path around to a side garden between what had been the palace structure and the outer fortification.
There he stopped, attention captured by the sight of a statue inside a water fountain.
It was a beautiful monument of white marble, of a woman with long hair in a braid and a small crown on her head. There were snowflake patterns in her gown and around her feet. The worn carving in the base read Elsa, 1785 – 1823. It looked old enough to have survived the castle's destruction somehow, and certainly Lukas was staring at it as if it were a miracle.
Lukas stood at the rim of the fountain and translated the words at the bottom, "Beloved queen, mother, sister, and-" his voice choked, "daughter." Steve jerked as if he intended to offer some kind of sympathy, but Natasha held him back, knowing this moment was for Lukas himself.
He stared, lip quivering, for several seconds until he shut his eyes, face crumpling, and a ragged breath tore from him. His chest heaved, and he fell to his knees. His head tilted back and his mouth opened. For a moment, nothing emerged, until something snapped and he cried out, wordless but pure in its anguish. He collapsed forward, head in his hands, sobbing breaths tearing from him, uncontrollably shaking.
Steve jerked free from her hand to kneel beside him. "Lukas, oh God, Lukas, here, it's okay, buddy." Wrapping an arm around Lukas' back, Steve urged Lukas to rest his head on Steve's shoulder and put the other arm around him, too, to hold him tight. "I've got you."
Natasha joined them, rubbing a hand across his shoulders and back of his neck lightly. This wasn't about Elsa; it was all the suffering he'd endured, bursting out from the deep wound in his heart and soul.
"Let it out," she murmured. "Let it all out, Lukas. So much pain, but you don't have to hold onto it."
His breakdown lasted less than a minute, before he stirred, ragged breaths easing, and wiped his eyes with the back of his hand.
Steve smoothed a hand one more time down Lukas' back before pulling away. "Feel better?" he asked softly, blue eyes free of judgment or scorn, only sympathy.
Lukas couldn't meet his eyes, jaw twitching, and shrugged a shoulder. "A little. I apologize for slobbering all over your shirt."
"No need," Steve answered, smiling at the half-hearted humor. "I'm glad to help."
Lukas inhaled a deep breath, pulled his feet under him, and stood. His friends rose with him, flanking him, as he looked at the monument again.
He wiped off a lingering tear on his cheek, but other than that, his face remained calm, thoughts and emotions held to himself. After a silence, he held out his palm. A pale blue light formed and swirled, and when it dissolved, there was a figurine made of ice sitting in his hand.
It was similar to the larger statue, a woman in a long dress with her braid in front of one shoulder, but this one was clearly drawn from memory: she smiled with delight, and looked nearly alive. Her hands were held high to launch snow up and over her head. The statue didn't move, but the spray did, sending snowflakes shooting upward to dissolve with a shimmer.
Lukas took the figurine and set it on the ground at larger statue's feet, and he stepped back. A sphere of glowing light flashed around it at a gesture of his fingers, and he said, "That is how I must remember her. Not in death, because all living things must end eventually, but in life."
"She was beautiful," Natasha murmured. Despite the brightness of the sun, the statue lost none of its definition and continued to launch tiny snowflakes in the air. She reached to touch it and found an invisible wall. No matter how she pushed, she could get no closer to the statue. Drawing back, she had to smile. It would stay there, preserved, perhaps forever.
He shut his eyes and drew a pained breath, before adding softly, "Everything of hers is lost. I cannot continue to hold on, as if it will bring her back. I am alone and wishful thinking of the past will not make it less so."
Steve's hand fell on his shoulder. "You're not alone, Lukas. You have us. And Bucky and Peggy back home."
"I think Wanda and Pietro would disagree, too," Natasha reminded him, and wrapped his fingers with hers. "And the Bartons. You have friends, and you have family here on Earth. So many people who care about you. Don't turn your back on them."
Lukas looked at them, and they looked back. Natasha hoped he was considering that they both were alone, too – Steve by time, and Natasha by the circumstance of her training. She had a few friends now, but that was a recent development, and the world beyond that list was full of strangers and enemies, not family. For the first time in many years, she wondered about her parents. Were they still out there? The Red Room had told her they were dead, but the Red Room lied. Maybe her parents were alive. Could she find them?
Looking at Lukas' devastation of a daughter lost almost two centuries ago, she couldn't doubt that her parents would remember her.
"Alone together?" Lukas asked, lips curving wryly. "All of us?"
"Yes," Steve answered with firm confidence, circling Lukas' shoulders with his arm and pulling him close, but Natasha wasn't left out, as Lukas' fingers tucked between hers.
"You want to stay longer?" Natasha asked.
He glanced at the smaller statue and shook his head. "No. I'm done here. Let's go."
The three friends turned toward the gate. Behind them a small figurine continued to throw snow into the air, bringing a permanent touch of winter.
Crossing the square, Loki's steps came to slow halt to look at the monument again. It still looked absurd to him, a mythical version of him that didn't exist. And yet… he existed. He was the Ice Demon. He had promised to protect Arendelle, and the people seemed to accept and believe in that promise. He couldn't reject that promise, because he'd made it to Elsa. Wasn't that promise truly what remained of her?
"Lukas?" Steve asked.
"I was just thinking," he answered slowly, "Denying that it's me over there," he waved toward the statue, "is also denying my promise to Elsa to protect her people. Our people," he corrected himself. "And I don't want to do that."
"What does that mean? You're staying in Arendelle?" Natasha asked, her voice so non-committal he knew she was forcing it.
"No," he answered. "No, I can do more if I'm not here. The feral wolves are coming to this world, not Arendelle alone. And I can fight better if I am not hiding who I am. The worst people already know the truth, so it seems foolish not to admit I am the Ice Demon, even if I know I'm not the person they believe me to be."
Steve nodded understanding. "That's the only way to deal with it, I think."
Loki turned to regard the statue again. Steve was right; it was better to try to live up to their faith, not hide from it because he was unworthy of it.
"I have something to do before we leave. I'll meet you at the hotel," he told them abruptly and headed back across the square.
He wanted them to go somewhere else, so they wouldn't see his destination, and wandered. He was not surprised to find he'd gone to the old church. He could go inside and see the wall sculpture of Yggdrasil again.
But why? It represented the past, a person he no longer was, and beliefs he no longer held. It reminded him of a place he had never belonged and of dark memories he couldn't escape. Seeing it again would offer no relief.
It was more tempting to seek out the kind priest he'd met before, but he turned his feet away and didn't enter.
Back on the square, Natasha and Steve were gone, thankfully. This was something he wanted to do on his own, without their observation.
A cheerful bell jingled as he entered the door to the small shop. It sold a variety of goods - drinks, candy, magazines, and tourist novelties. Within, Sophie, who had treated him so kindly as a stranger to her when he'd first arrived on Midgard, was helping a couple of tourists who had come off the big ship in the bay. She saw him, smiled with recognition, and waved at him. He waved back but stayed out of the way, exploring the shelf of souvenirs. There were a few replicas of the Ice Demon sculpture outside and he was tempted to buy one for Coulson.
But the sight of the small plates with the painted plums on them gave him a twinge of guilt and he was tempted to sweep them to the floor to break. How could he save anyone else, if he couldn't save himself?
But Sophie had been kind to him, and he felt like he should reward her somehow. Perhaps he should give her a sign of the Ice Demon. Glancing to the counter to make sure she was still occupied, he conjured a few plums to sit on the top plate. But once he saw them, it seemed too subtle, too easy to brush off as a prank, so with a careful application of seidr he bent one of the Ice Demon statues into a better pose and called a small flame in the upraised hand. That seemed more satisfactory for a gift.
The bells tinkled as the tourists left so he went up to the counter.
Sophie smile was bright and welcoming. "Luke! You're back. I had wondered what happened to you."
The Sokovian laboratory passed across his vision and he had to blink it away. "I was able to travel on my Arendelle passport. In fact I'm not in town for long, but I wanted to thank you for your help. You were generous and kind when I was lost."
Her face softened. "And you're better now? Did you find work?"
"I have work, yes." He hesitated to think of how to put it. "Security. You may see me around."
"Do you have time for dinner?" she invited. "You look thinner, as if you've been eating your own cooking."
He laughed and ducked his head. "Actually no. I don't cook at all."
"Well, there's your problem. Come over and I will stuff you with my mother's fish stew."
"That sounds delicious, and as always you embarrass me with your generosity, Sophie. But I must decline. I'm leaving tonight, but before I left again, I wanted to be sure you knew how grateful I am for what you did for me."
She shook her head. "It's nothing special."
"It was special to me. I hope to return again soon, but until then, please be well."
She frowned sensing there was more to his words, but she also heard the farewell in them and responded to that, "You also, Luke. You are always welcome."
He was tempted to tell her to leave a place at the table open for him, but caught back the obvious clue, and merely smiled. "Thank you, Sophie. Tell Helga hello for me, and I hope you enjoy my gift."
He glanced at the shelf, making sure she saw the direction of his gaze, before he headed for the door, waving farewell. "I'll see you again." Frowning curiously, she came out from behind the counter to find out what his gift was.
As soon as he stepped outside he cast a hasty glamour so he could watch through the window unseen.
She saw the plums first, touching them to check they were real, and then she saw the statuette and gasped. She looked around for him and ran to the front, throwing open the door. "Luke? Luke!"
But of course her eyes slid right across him, not seeing past the illusion, and her gaze ended up on the statue across the square.
"Luke. Lukas. You're him," she whispered and shook her head as if she thought she was dreaming or hallucinating. Moving slower now, stunned, she went back inside the shop and returning to the statue. She stared at it for a moment then seized it and cradled it to her chest, lips parted and eyes still wide with amazement.
Pleased with her response, he smiled and walked away.
He had called himself Loki of Asgard once, but those days were past. He would be Loki of Midgard, the Ice Demon, protector of Arendelle and Earth. With the help of his friends and family, villains would find no victory here.
EPILOGUE
-later -
Erik Selvig stared blankly at the figure before him, neither impressed nor horrified by the person who had come through the rip in space-time created by the tesseract.
The same voice that had been in his mind as an insidious whisper, was now booming and proud: "Guten Tag, Herr Selvig. It is good to be home at last."
Erik returned to him words that would normally make him shudder with disgust, but his mouth formed them anyway: "Hail Hydra."
Johann Schmidt's thin lips smiled with a lizard-like satisfaction, as he put a hand on Erik's shoulder. "It is time to remake the world. But first, there is much work ahead of us."
Erik did not, could not, do anything but nod his agreement and follow his master's command.
end.
Last note: yes, this means the next in the series will be "The Ice Demon and the Red Skull". By fall, hopefully. so keep an eye out here, or you can always follow me at tumblr for updates (lizardbeths).
Thank you for reading and I'd love to hear from you!