25. Nightmares
The flames licked at Loki's skin, making him arch with agony and scream without words. For anyone it would have been supreme torture, but for him – the son of a frost giant – it was worse than anything he could have imagined.
And through it all there was a voice, promising him an army, glory, relief from the pain, if only he surrendered his foolish ideas of freedom and loyalty to Asgard. "Why should you be loyal to the Aesir?" the whisper teased relentlessly as his eyes boiled in his skull. "They lied to you. They dishonored you. Claim fealty to me and end the fire…"
He sat up in bed, gasping with horror. For a moment he thought he was back in Helheim, about to cleave his soul to The Other and to Thanos. Loki's vision slowly cleared, and he felt the soft breathing of Natasha asleep next to him.
The pain of that history clung to him, and he realized he would have to wake her, to be weak in order to get some comfort. Just as he was about to shake her, however, the door to the bedroom opened.
Brynhildr stood there with tumbled curls, looking confused. She made tiny, sad noises, and at the sound Natasha awoke.
"What is it, love?" she asked, holding out her arms.
Brynhildr ran forward, jumped into the bed between her parents, and snuffled into Loki's shoulder. "Had a bad dream. Want to sleep here."
Slowly, Loki felt his body relax as he put his arms around the girl. "Of course you may, dear one."
The girl stopped crying and fell asleep with the suddenness of childhood. On the other side, Natasha hugged Brynhildr as well; Loki stroked his wife's satin skin next to his. The bed was warm, holding the little family in the dark.
"Love you…" Natasha breathed before she, too, fell asleep.
Loki was touched. She never said anything about her feelings for him. He had lost the battle of Midgard, and at the time he railed at the tyranny of the fates. Now he saw the victory had been a different sort, one far more glorious and much slower to arrive.
His eyes closed. The nightmare was gone.