Once more they walked, rather than hurried as Natasha would've preferred, to the room where she'd left Aelyn, the pair following her keeping their questions to themselves as she'd hoped they would, even as Nat herself wanted to scream and cry out and demand to know just what the hell had made Jerome do this. She rapped on the door what felt like an eternity later, feet leadened by what she thought she was going to see. She'd told Aelyn not to mess with the body, not just then at least, and when no response came her heart jolted. Something hadn't happened to the princess too, had it? She hadn't been gone that long!
"Aelyn, it's me," Nat hissed, hands balling at her sides as Fenrir shifted uncertainly behind her. There was another pause, then the sound of feet on the other side of the door and Aelyn had unlocked the door. Her eyes were red from crying, and Carissa shoved past Natasha to rush to her lady's side, clasping Aelyn's still trembling hands in her own and demanding to know what happened. Natasha shook her head, motioning for them to stay silent as she shoved Fenrir and herself inside and closed the door. Dra'ace's body hadn't moved an inch, and Fenrir's eyes narrowed as he caught sight of the dead king in his spot.
"You mean to say that you killed him?" He asked, looking to Natasha, the beginnings of disbelief starting to form on his face.
"No. Jerome did," Natasha said, looking to Aelyn for confirmation. Before the princess could say anything Carissa snarled and placed herself in front of her lady, one of her hands flying to a knife at her side.
"Why would the prince do something like that?" She demanded, pulling the knife from its case and pointing its tip at Natasha, who stiffened at the threat. "You killed him and you forced his sister to help-you are blackmailing her, aren't you?"
"No," Aelyn said as Natasha's head whirled with the accusations. Was Carissa stupid? Why on earth would she do something like that? "We watched him poison the king. Now the Vanir armies will not go to war, not until their funeral rites have passed. That could be months." She said, and though her voice shook she managed to keep the volume sufficient enough they could make out her words. Barely. Nat wondered just how long she had until the woman unraveled completely. Carissa's face turned incredulous at the news, but Fenrir growled low in his throat. He looked more like the wolf he wore on his breastplate than he ever had before, gold eyes bright and narrowed as he stared at the body on the ground, then the decanted liquid on the table. "In the drink?"
"Yes," Natasha nodded. Good, at least he was getting it. She needed him more than she needed Carissa, anyway, still unable to believe that she'd thought Natasha behind it all. How did this benefit her in any way?
"I can smell it on him. Fucking coward," he spat. "We need to tell Loki and Thor. They need to know that Vanaheim cannot be counted on for aid."
"We need to discount Jerome." Natasha insisted. "We cannot make it look as though this is just a death, or a mishap. Either we find a way to pin it on Jerome, or we say that Thanos is behind it. If his people have something to fight for, someone to seek revenge from, then maybe we can count on that and use this mess we're in. Right?"
"It won't be that easy," Aelyn said, stepping closer to Natasha. Carissa moved with her, the shadow attached to the bottom of Aelyn's feet. "To convince the queen and the army to abandon the rites we would have to have a calamity that they could not ignore."
Natasha tried not to scream. Hadn't there been enough? This whole situation, every damn realm was in such a state of panic that it was impossible to ignore, and yet they were going to pretend that they, alone, had been the unfortunate ones? What about her home? Her realm? She bit down on her tongue so hard it near bled, and her lips twisted downwards in a scowl of anger. "Okay. Like what? If we let Thanos attack here again when we know the armies will do nothing, when they aren't ready for the fight, then what? Vanaheim dies along with its king. No, if we can give them a common enemy, someone to whom they can point the blame, they will make an exception. Fenrir." She looked to the man, whose head snapped up and to attention, his focus having been solely on the ground beneath him, gaze a million miles away as he thought it all over.
"What do you need me to do?"
"Either find something that can connect Jerome to the death, or better yet Thanos, or manufacture something. I don't care what you have to do, or who you have to do it to. We need their armies." She said seriously.
Aelyn stepped closer, and for the first time since they'd been in the damn room Nat saw that she had stopped shaking. "Don't you dare hurt my brother."
"He should've thought of that before he sentenced us all to death," Natasha said, her voice coming out more harshly than she'd intended it to, though she meant everything she said. "He condemned us all to death courtesy of this little stunt. I'm not going to lose what little I have left because your brother decided he wanted to play assassin, and piss poorly at that."
Aelyn didn't say anything in return, her eyes wide and her jaw locking to keep her bottom lip from trembling. Natasha could see her beginning to come apart at the seams, and though Carissa took the princess' hand in her own she ripped it right back. "Do not harm him," she said once more, her voice soft but strong all the same.
"I can't make any promises." Fenrir muttered.
Nor could, or would, Natasha. She would protect her own with whatever it was she had, however she had to do it, dammit all. Obviously Jerome wasn't thinking the same, so Natasha couldn't understand why Aelyn was so protective over the son of a bitch.
In the end they left Dra'ace's body where it was. To move it would cause Jerome to become suspicious that he'd been found out, and with Fenrir looking for anything and everything he could they needed him as unawares as they could get. Natasha thanked whatever Norn it was that had devised that she defeated him in combat earlier that day, even if it felt half a lifetime ago. As it was he'd taken off as soon as they'd reached a decision about the body and Natasha was grateful that he was taking this so seriously. As a mercenary he could just as easily have changed sides if this one didn't suit him, loyalties to Loki be damned. She was so thankful he hadn't.
She, meanwhile, sought out Thor. Carissa and Aelyn had disappeared back into the princess' room after Natasha's warning about not even hinting to Jerome what they'd seen. She hadn't thought she'd need to say anything, but there was no being too careful, not with this. The last thing she needed was him to get defensive and to leave before she could prove what she needed to, before she could convince the Vanir to march alongside the rest of them.
They couldn't afford any more setbacks.
She found Thor in his own room, studying maps of a place she'd never visited before, nor did she want to if it had places named "Death's Peak" or "Despair's Throne." Honestly, what sort of melodramatic imbecile was the map maker?
Thor smiled to see her, taking care that no one was around before he pressed his lips to her cheek. She caught his face in her hands and kissed him on the mouth, turning her head just in time and holding him there until they were panting. Her cheeks were heated, and his gaze was lidded when they pulled away, lips parting as they panted for breath. He tasted of mead and whatever he'd had for lunch and so familiar it near hurt her bones to have him so close to her once more. She straddled his lap, glad for the freedom that the trousers she'd taken up wearing once more allowed her, and pressed her lips to his again and again, not caring that they were gasping for breath and she could feel him all but cutting into the flesh of her thighs when she rubbed against him.
"Natasha, what has gotten into you?" He asked, voice hoarse when she finally pulled away, her fingers hastening to work on the buttons of his shirt.
"I need you-I need both of you," she gasped, hardly able to find the words, choking on them and spitting them out before the tears could run down her face, hot and embarrassing. The more she kissed him the further away the tears got, and so she brought their lips together again and again. "I just need you-I need you both-I need to feel alive." She begged.
"Then it's a good thing I came back when I did." Loki's voice came from behind, and she started, turning around on Thor's lap so quickly her neck ached. Thor's body rippled with a laugh as Loki stepped from the shadows, his red eyes dissolving into the green she was so familiar with, the blue of his skin ebbing like the tide, making way for the flush of pink, pale flesh to cover his frame.
"Always the dramatic one," Thor murmured. "Are you going to stand there, or are you going to help me give the lady what she wants?"
They hardly made it into Loki and Natasha's bedroom, deciding of the ones available it was the least likely to be disturbed. Between Loki's teeth on her throat and Thor's lips on her collar, their hands shifting and sliding, easing their way over her flesh, she found her worries and her apprehensions about Dra'ace and Fenrir, about Jerome's betrayal and Aeyln and Carissa's relationship, disappearing from her mind. This was exactly what she needed, exactly what it was she'd wanted for so long. Loki entered her first, removing his lips from where he'd been devouring her whole and replacing his tongue for his cock, filling her with one fluid snap of his hips. She gasped, stripped bare between the two of them, balanced precariously in limbo, as his hands held her hips steady for Thor to align himself as well. They'd sat on Loki and Natasha's enormous bed, the two brothers sitting on opposite sides of her, Natasha leaning forward to allow Thor better access as he eased his way into her. Loki's thumb on her clit helped to ease the discomfort caused by the way Thor stretched her body, and the man's soft whispers of admiration and adoration in her ear did the rest until the tension released from between her shoulder blades and he seated himself wholly within her.
They took turns thrusting in and out, their bodies flush against hers as Loki kissed her so hard she feared he might suck her soul from her body, while Thor left marks wherever his mouth and teeth went. She gasped and groaned, whimpering their names until it was all she could think of. Once, twice, three times her vision whited out and her body went stiff with pleasure from the climaxes they forced her body through, and only when she was too sensitive and cried out for them did they finish within her, Thor resting his forehead against the base of her spine while Loki leaned backwards to bring the pair of them with him. They fit that way, Natasha safely between them, where she belonged, Thor's arm wrapped around her waist as they laid on their sides, her fingers intertwined with Loki's.
By the end of the night the word had spread that Dra'ace had been killed, assassinated, the bloodshot eyes and the distortion of his face pointing towards poison. Natasha, Thor, and Loki all showed their respects to the wife he left behind, who hardly kept her face stoic throughout the announcement and the proceedings that followed. The army, as it was, was ordered to retreat from their outposts, to rejoin their families, and to stay there until the funeral rites had completed. Natasha's heart dropped when Thor announced that they were to return to Asgard to allow the realm space to breathe and to mourn in peace.
"Thor we need them on our side- we can't just let them sit there and do nothing!" She hissed as he worked to finish packing his belongings. Fenrir hadn't had enough time! There was still so much to be done!
"There's nothing I can do," he murmured, and he turned away from her, not before she could see the way his brow creased further. What more wasn't he telling her?
"What else?" She demanded. "What else could possibly be happening?"
"The treaty with Alfheim is off. Jerome cited the death of Dra'ace as the final straw. He and Aelyn and their assistance left for their realm not an hour after the announcement, and we ought to do the same."
That son of a bitch. She saw red, and bit down on her tongue to keep from screaming. That stupid, gutless, son of a bitch. She'd rip his head from his shoulders as soon as she got the chance to. "Isn't that a little too coincidental?" She demanded, trying not to sound as though she was accusing the prince of anything but . . . well, it was too obvious. Even Thor seemed to agree, though he masked it with a heavy sigh.
"There's nothing more we can do. Come now, Loki is waiting for us."