A/N: I just want to thank anyone who's been reading, reviewing, etc. this so far. A huge thanks goes to my beta, too.

Summary: Revenge burns. Tony is not very fond of closed doors. Perhaps visiting foreign realms is not the best hobby one can have.

Chapter IV—So Much Darkness in Space

Tenebrosity (noun): the quality of being dark or shadowy.

Tony, wind ruffling his hair, did not like the situation at all. For one, he was stuck on a flying boat with no apparent engine. He'd seen enough magic by now to not completely ruin his brain by trying to scientifically explain it, but it bothered him nonetheless. In fact, it bothered him almost as much as their plan.

Things had gone ridiculously easy up to that point. Thor hadn't mentioned if he'd needed any help from his friends at all, but he had brought the boat (flying or not, Tony refused to call it anything else) with no guards trailing behind him, and so far, the flight had been smooth.

That was, not counting the tension between them.

Loki was standing at the rudder, tall and silent, looking formidable in his Aesir clothing again. Tony's gaze lingered on the collar framing the pale column of Loki's neck and the skin-tight leather hugging his thighs. Naturally, the stupid cloak had to cover Loki's behind. Perhaps it was for the best; now was not the time for wanting those legs wrapped around his waist. Not that Tony wouldn't much rather be having sex than flying into battle, and one where he was supposed to be invisible no less. Loki had assured him he could do it, and there was nothing for Tony to do but trust him, hoping their plan would work.

Jane wasn't looking very good. She'd collapsed almost the moment they'd started from the palace and was now sitting at the back of the boat, wrapped in Thor's cape, said god beside her.

Nobody spoke. Tony was almost tempted to put the suit's helmet on so he could chat with Jarvis to escape the silence, which would probably make the others think he was even weirder than he was. Well, Loki pretty much knew already.

The billionaire was still secretly glad Jarvis could function here, too. He was limited to the suit, no communication or internet access, but at least Tony wouldn't have to control the suit manually. That would have been a nuisance.

"Brother, are you mad?"

Tony's gaze snapped to Thor and then followed the way the god's line of sight. His eyes widened just the slightest. They were heading towards a wall of stone much too fast.

"Loki?"

"Trust me," was the only reply.

It was better than the nothing Thor had got.

It was enough.

But Tony still closed his eyes.

~*oO*o*Oo*~

His grip on Jane's arm was harsh. It had less to do with any desire to harm her and almost everything with the strain of holding things together. True invisibility was hard; maintaining an illusion less so. If he turned, he could see Tony and Thor following at a distance—his eyes did not need to be fooled by the illusion of landscape.

Impatience stirring inside of him, he stopped and yanked Jane closer.

"Malekith!"

As if he wasn't close already. But he could pretend he didn't know—after all, had he not heard it from Thor, he would have had no way of knowing the elf could sense the Aether—and then yelling would seem completely reasonable. To a degree. Thor would certainly do it.

Perhaps Loki shouldn't have.

His booted toes hit the barren earth. Jane muttered something beside him, but he ignored her and focused on breathing instead. It was only magic. If things went well, it would be the only magic he would have to do.

The thought left a bitter aftertaste. He could handle magic; he could simply not enjoy it any longer.

As if his shout had been heard, a battleship shimmered into existence on the horizon, headed their way. Good. He had an extra snippet of time to prepare. Squaring his shoulders, he lifted his chin and let his gaze pierce the approaching ship.

It was a large vessel, shaped differently than any he had seen even during his fall, high and narrow. The endless height of its body didn't seem very practical. The invisibility, on the other hand, fascinated a part of his mind beyond belief. The ship landed, digging itself into the earth, and the dark exterior parted. Dark, silent figures spilled out of the gap and parted to allow two of them to pass; they had to be Malekith and his henchmen.

Loki's fingers twitched with the desire to call forth a knife and end this, stab the life right out of the Dark Elf and the creature with horns and skin so much like wood at his side.

His mother's killer.

Keeping his face carefully blank, he strode forward and practically threw Jane onto the ground; a groan escaped her lips.

"I am Loki—" but not of Asgard, not anymore, and not of Jotunheim, either; Tony's, if he had to belong anywhere "—and I bring you a gift!" His foot connected with Jane's side; the force threw her onto her back, but Loki didn't let his gaze linger. His focus was on the two… Elves… in front of him.

"Word has come to me that you seek this."

Malekith's pale eyes narrowed.

"Am I to assume you have brought her to me and risked Asgard's wrath out of the goodness of your heart?"

A mirthless laughter passed Loki's lips.

"I do not have a heart." But he did. For Tony, he did. "No, what I ask in return is a chance to watch Asgard burn to the ground. I trust that should not present a problem?" A sneer danced on his lips while his own words echoed in his ears.

Tony was hearing this.

Tonywas hearing him talk this way.

"Hmm…" Slowly, in a manner of a predator, Malekith stalked around the Trickster. Loki resisted the urge to follow the movement with his gaze and forced his posture to stay relaxed.

"Why should I trust you?"

"You shouldn't." He glanced at Jane, who was lying in a heap on the ground. Her time was running out. "But we have a common enemy."

"Indeed…" The Elf came to a stop in front of Jane. His watery blue eyes met Loki's gaze. "I accept."

The god swallowed a sigh of relief and forced his mouth into a grin. Clasping his hands behind his back, he readjusted his grip on the spell and tried not to think about it at the same time. Finally, finally, Malekith turned his attention to the woman, grabbing her jaw with one hand. Then, he let her fall, but only for so long; taking a few steps backwards, he raised both arms, and following the motion, Jane's body lifted off the ground. Her mouth fell open, her hair spilled down her shoulders—then Loki backed away as well, and her face disappeared from his vision field. Wind caught her clothes and ruffled his hair—there had been no wind in space—and he instinctively reached to the side with his hand, searching for someone he knew wasn't there. Just a bit longer—

Dark red particles swarmed the air like bees, but where was Thor, where was Thor—

Jane collapsed back onto the ground. A moment later, lighting came rushing down from the sky. Loki's gaze shot around; he couldn't see Tony, but Thor's woman was right there, too close, and he threw himself at her with enough force to send them both sliding over the dirt away from the blinding light.

A hiss fell from his lips as his shoulder hit the ground and dull pain blossomed in it. Ignoring it, he crouched, body tense with expectation, and pushed a stray lock of hair out of his face.

Malekith was still standing, the Aether still floating menacingly, if such a thing was even possible. Thor's grip tightened around Mjolnir's handle. Tony was standing further away, arm stretched out and ready to fire. Jane was still breathing.

As if caught in slow motion (the way those earthly movies were wont to show movement so often), Malekith spread his arms, chest pushed forward, and the Aether stirred. The master called; the servant answered. For a moment, the redness preserved its undefined form. Then, it rushed to Malekith's chest—into his chest—and Loki swallowed a curse. Possibilities flitted through his mind. Fight or flight. They had a helpless person with them. But there was Thor. And the henchman. The henchman.

Lightning burst from the sky once again, but it did no good; it bounced off the Aether helplessly, and before Loki could even blink, Thor was rolling over the dirty ground.

Blades appeared in Loki's hands, called forth from his pocket of space. One of them sank into a Dark Elf's neck with deadly precision, the other would have hit Malekith's forehead if it wasn't for the Aether. A wave of force slammed into Loki's chest, knocking the breath out of him, then there was a hand squeezing his neck. Pale blue eyes bored into his.

He couldn't breathe.

"You will have Asgard burn," the Elf hissed. "And you may watch while you burn with it, little godling."

Don't call me that.

The hand pulled up.

Don't you dare call me that.

Fire exploded from Loki's hands, hissing and happily lapping at the other's clothes and skin. With a sharp hiss, Malekith let go. Gasping, Loki watched him retreat and stop only to relay something to his henchman before he disappeared back into his ship.

Was he so confident the others would kill them? Or was he kindly allowing them to return to Asgard and report their failure?

Low.

Not that Loki cared too much. He was here for revenge and partly to save Jane's life, both of which could still be achieved.

If only Thor hadn't launched himself at the henchman. They rolled a couple of times, and then Loki couldn't watch anymore because of the soldiers that surrounded him and Jane. Naturally, it wasn't Thor who stood beside her to protect her.

It didn't matter to him if his fighting had less of its usual elegance and more of the brutal, ugly striking this time. There was a sickening crack when his elbow connected with an Elf's face, but his attention didn't linger. A familiar beam of light went past his head and hit its target in the chest, and Loki turned to give Tony a short nod. He wanted to smile, too, but something caught his eye; a movement, a disturbance in the air. His expression must have told Tony to react since the man flew away from the spot—good, that was good, Tony wasn't in danger—and Loki yanked Jane up and pushed her away, ready to run himself even as an invisible force pulled him off his feet, and no, no, no, nononono—

Metal fingers closed around his wrist and pulled him away. Breath caught in his throat, but he was alive. Wrapped in Tony's arms some feet above the ground and alive. With an exhausted sigh, he leaned his forehead onto the cold metal of the armour.

"Thank you…"

"You okay?"

"I will be." He lifted his head and swept the ground with his gaze. It was strangely satisfying to see Thor thrown around like a puppet. Nevertheless, he couldn't let anything serious happen to the oaf; who else would be blamed but Loki?

"Protect Jane and kill the rest," he said. "I'll save Thor's skin. Now drop me."

"But we're—"

"Drop me."

Tony obliged. Barely a moment passed before Loki's feet connected with the ground. He rolled over his shoulder into a crouch, then pushed himself forward and sprinted. He jumped over the body of a fallen Elf—and stopped.

Their force fields.

There.

He snatched the capsule from the body's belt, grabbed the discarded blade, and dashed forward again. Damn Thor. Such a competent fighter he was supposed to be, yet he was thrown around like a fishing boat on stormy sea.

He was not allowed to die today.

And the henchman was destined to.

The blade pierced the monster's chest. Loki's hand slid to its waist and tucked the capsule in a rift between the leather armour pieces.

There were two surprised sounds, but he cared about neither. An ugly grin stretched across his face.

"That's for my mo—"

His voice failed.

His eyes grew wide. His breathing caught.

A dagger was sticking out of his chest just below the left clavicle.

It burnt.

A gasp parted his lips, and his legs gave way, but the ground didn't seem as hard as before. His vision blurred.

Poison, a distant part of his mind whispered.

It burnt. Burnt like acid forced down his throat, or poured over fresh wounds. He couldn't breathe—couldn't breathe—it burnt—no more, please, no more, PLEASE!—but they wouldn't listen, they never listened—it BURNT—

"Loki!"

Hands on his shoulders, forcing him down, but he had to get away, had to fight—

A change swept over his body—no, no, he wasn't supposed—they couldn't know—they'd—

"LOKI!"

Tony.

Tony's voice.

They couldn't see. He would deal with everything else later, they couldn't see him—

Magic bled over his skin. Then, his eyes snapped open, taking in the grey sky and Thor, who fell onto his knees at his side, and then there was Tony, visor opened and hands reaching out, bare hands reaching for his face—

"Don't touch me!"

He couldn't hurt Tony again. He was a monster, and no glamour could change it; he could feel it, even through the burn, the shift in the temperatures, the feeling of being stuck in a body that was not his own.

"It's me, Loki, it's me! It's okay!"

Tony reached for his face again, and couldn't he understand—

"Don't touch me! Please, please, I don't want to hurt you, don't touch me—"

"You won't hurt me. Loki, calm down."

He didn't understand! "No! I'll hurt you! It's a glamour, Tony, it's just a glamour!"

Something that might have been understanding dawned in Tony's eyes. Loki couldn't be sure; his vision refused to sharpen no matter how much he blinked.

"You won't hurt me. I know you won't."

And then there were hands on his cheeks, and Tony wasn't screaming, wasn't pulling away—how?

How…

He tried to ask but only a strange strangled sound came from his throat. His chest felt too tight, his torso was on fire, and his vision was turning black—

How…?

Somebody was shouting something. Tony? Was Tony…?

His lips moved a bit, and perhaps something even managed to get out. Perhaps.

The world was fading to black. He wanted to see Tony again, but there wasn't anything left, only darkness—the space—so much darkness in space…

~*oO*o*Oo*~

"No! Loki, no!" He shook his head, desperately pressing down on the wound. It was just a little stab wound, just a stupid injury, it shouldn't be that bad.

It was strange, feeling warm blood under one hand and cold skin under the other. Jotnar skin. He could feel the ridges, the curving lines, even though he couldn't see them. How it happened that his skin wasn't turning black with frostbite, he didn't know, but he was holding Loki, and the only thing that hurt was his chest.

"We have to get out of here." He glanced over his shoulder at Thor—and frowned at the god's gaping mouth and wide eyes filled with something... dark. "Thor?"

The Thunderer's frown deepened and he leaned away.

"Thor?"

"Loki..." Thor pressed his lips together as if the word had left a bad taste on them that needed to be rubbed off. "He's..."

Tony's head snapped back to his lover.

Blue skin.

Of course.

"Yeah. Come on, we need to get back to Asgard. He needs healers."

Thor shook his head. "But he's a..."

Swallowing the anger, Tony cradled Loki in his arms. "Heimdall!" he shouted. "Heimdall! We need the Bifrost!"

This had to work. It didn't matter if they got in trouble—they already were. And Loki needed help. There was no way they were getting back they way they came here.

"Stark, we're not supposed to—"

"You think Loki can get us back?! You think I'd rather see him die than get us in trouble?! And fuck, stop staring at him as if he's something repulsive! He's your brother!"

"I am not—very well." Thor's face was a storm given shape, but he got up and turned to where Jane had been before just as she staggered to him.

Tony's gaze returned to Loki. He pushed a strand of hair away from his face. "Hang in there, babe. We'll get you help."

Loki didn't even move. Tony bit back a curse.

"Heimdall! Please!"

He probably didn't have the right to ask. Born in the wrong realm or something. And would it kill Thor to call for their Watchman, too? Would it kill Thor to be helpful? Surely Loki's skin colour wasn't the most important thing right now—

Ah. So maybe Thor was calling Heimdall. Okay. Okay. Calm down, Tony. Loki was going to be okay.

Moments later, blinding light enveloped them. Tony pulled Loki even closer. Air was knocked out of his lungs, and his skin felt too tight. His stomach rebelled. But when his knees hit solid ground again, Loki was still in his arms.

The next thing he saw were somebody's legs. Heimdall's legs.

"Hi. Thanks for pulling us out of—"

The sound of hooves made him look up just in time to see a magnificent stallion come to a halt. A stallion with eight legs.

So the story was true?

He didn't really have time to think about that now. Odin dismounted, took the scene in with a sweep of his gaze, and crouched in front of Tony. His hand came to rest on Loki's forehead. A moment later, pale pink bled over the blue, and Tony noticed a blood stain on Loki's cheek. He lifted his hand to wipe it off—

And realized the lines on Loki's face were not a play of light. They were scars. Curves residing where there had been the slight ridges before. Pinpricks scattered around his lips.

Tony's chest constricted. He'd seen Loki in bad situations before, but the scars had never been visible before, not even when the Trickster had come too close to madness for comfort. He considered pointing that out, but Odin had already straightened.

"Thor, get her to the healers. We will have words later." Then, his eye focused on Tony. "You can fly, can you not? Follow me."

"But Loki—"

"We are going to the healing rooms. Follow me."

Douchebag. But it was what Tony wanted (although carrying somebody while flying wasn't his favourite thing to do), so he nodded and got up, Loki still in his arms.

Thor probably looked much more elegant flying with Jane. Not that Tony cared right now. And if somebody saw him, he'd probably win the Most Awkward Flight of the Year Award, but there was nobody on the Bifrost. Streets were mostly empty, too, due to darkness, though the closer to the palace they got, the more people there were. Luckily, they scattered out of the way; Odin wasn't exactly riding in a relaxed trot.

They came to a momentary stop at the end of a wide promenade, Odin giving the reins over to one of the guards who were stationed at both sides.

"Follow me, Man of Iron," he said without pausing to see if his words would be obeyed; Tony hurried after him. His steps echoed, metal hitting stone. One walk through endless, seemingly identical corridors later, they finally entered a circular room surrounded by pillars between which doors to some unknown places resided. More bronze-golden rooms, Tony guessed. A few women were hurrying around; they stopped almost at once. Respect was their first reaction—respect to their monarch. Then, their focus shifted, and although Tony could feel the weight of their gazes, he knew they were not looking at him. Watching their closed-off expressions, he swallowed.

At last one of them, a young, blond woman, stepped forward. She was a pretty sight, and once upon a time, Tony would have cared.

She bowed her head. "Allfather."

"You will take care of him and treat him to best of your ability," Odin said sternly. "Bring Eir to me."

The woman nodded. She said something to one of her companions and inclined her head to the side, gesturing for Tony to follow her through one of the doors. Fabric pooled around her legs as she walked, and Tony caught a glimpse of boots.

"Put him down," she said. Seeing as there was only something that looked like a glowing examination table in the room, the command was perfectly clear. Tony barely had the time to let go of Loki (not that he wanted to) before a small group of people spilled into the room: Odin, a middle-aged woman with an air of sternness about her, and two more healers. Finally, Thor poked his head through the door, and somebody was telling Tony to go wait outside as if he didn't belong here, didn't belong with his Loki, but Thor got sent out as well, so perhaps it was a work thing rather than something personal. It didn't mean he had to be happy about it. Sighing, he leaned against the nearest pillar.

"How's Jane?"

Thor turned to him. "She will be all right after some rest. They say her body is exhausted."

Tony nodded. Good for her. Good for Thor. Thor, whose gaze kept flitting from Tony to the door and back to Tony again, then finally to his hands clasped in front of him that refused to stay still.

"Say… Friend Stark…"

"Yeah?"

"You knew about Loki…"

His eyebrows arched. "Yes."

"Oh." Thor's face fell. There was something strange in his eyes. "He told you?"

"Not exactly. It was more of an accident. Why?"

"And it did not… It does not bother you?"

He shook his head. Sure, it was strange, but Loki was still Loki, and there was something fascinating about it. He'd been contemplating asking Loki to show his Jotnar form again, but with all the memories connected to it… He hadn't.

Thor rubbed his forehead. "Father told me about it, but when I saw Loki…"

Ah. Confrontations with reality.

"He looks… He looks like them."

A frown twisted his brow. "Well, what were you expecting?"

Thor shrugged. "He is Loki. I thought…" He shook his head. "I suppose I'm not a very good brother."

Tony crossed his arms on his chest. "If you're hoping to hear a reassurance about how you're a great brother, go ask someone else. I can't give it to you right now." A pause. "What the hell were you thinking, not telling Loki about his mum?"

"Another day wouldn't bring her back from the dead."

"And the funeral?! What of that?!"

"We are at war!"

"You are not at war! I don't see any fighting around here, only someone who was too selfish to see anyone but his girlfriend!"

"Enough!" Thor roared. "I protected Asgard! Taking Jane away was for the good of all of us! You are the selfish one here!"

"Me?! Why, because I'm the only one who—"

The door opened and the blond woman appeared.

"Boys," she said, which should have been kind of funny because Tony at least looked older than her (not that it meant much), and Thor was the crown prince, but none of them laughed. "Be quiet. If you cannot, I would suggest you remove yourself from this place. We are trying to work."

Work. Right. Loki.

"Will he be okay?" Tony asked.

She looked at him as if she was trying to find all the answers to her questions on his face. "Yes," she said curtly. "No more shouting," she added and disappeared back into the room.

Tony stared after her. Loki was on the other side of this door. What if he needed support? What if wasn't going to be fine after all?

"Hlin," Thor said, and the inventor twitched. Good thing it couldn't be really seen in the suit.

"Bless you?"

"No, Hlin. She was friends with Mother…"

Oh, the healer. "Mm-hmm." That didn't tell him very much. "Why's your dad allowed to be in there and we are not?"

Admittedly, not the smartest question ever what with Odin being the king and all. But knowing the answer didn't mean the sense of unfairness could be chased out if Tony's mind. He glanced around, then stepped to the door and pressed his ear against it in hopes of catching at least bits of conversation, but there was nothing.

"It won't work," Thor said. "Sounds don't go through."

Scowling, Tony backed away and sat down on the floor, back against the wall. "Your plan failed," he remarked.

Thor's lips formed a straight line. "Yes." He turned to Tony. "There will be war now. You will see warriors fight."

The sigh that left Tony's lips was filled with weariness to the point of spilling. "I don't want a war. That's your culture's hobby, not mine. All I want is to go home and take Loki away from this madness."

"He chose to come here, did he not?"

Tony snorted. "Of course he did." Loki had wanted to say goodbye to his mother. Though perhaps… He'd fought for others before. Protected worlds that weren't his. Selfish reasons or not, his blood had been shed, and the lives of others went on as if nothing had happened. Because nothing had happened. Not to them.

The inventor sighed. "It's what he does."

A/N: Please review ;)

~shades