Sirens

What do I want to do with my life?

The words glared at her from the top of the page, the dot on the question mark a smudged blob because she'd used too much ink. Quills and parchment were still a novelty to her.

Alex hadn't been able to sleep after Loki's confession, returning to her own chambers to bathe and rest, but even before her head hit the pillow she'd known it was no good. She kept thinking about the box full of glitter and the other keepsakes she'd noticed cluttering his rooms on her way out—preserved flowers, pieces of coral, a bandanna she'd once used to protect her head from the sun. She'd left the glitter behind. It was his memento, not hers.

Her thoughts had led her to a desk in the main room, bathed in bright moonlight, space cleared to write. If she didn't want to waste any more of her life, she needed to figure out what she wanted to do with it. Maybe writing it down would give some clarity.

I want to be happy.

So simple an idea, and yet so complex. She'd never nailed it down more than that when she was younger: people had asked her what kind of career she wanted, and she'd given different answers every time, none of them that appealing after she properly considered them. Teacher, journalist, midwife, social worker, chef, flight attendant… She hadn't even had a favourite subject at school, and her degree had been in English Literature, purely because she liked to read. Even at the time her parents had asked her what she was going to do with it.

What makes me happy?

She enjoyed learning. She enjoyed travelling, but apart from travel writer, she'd never found a job that would pay her for wandering the universe.

Really, they were two parts of the same process. If she couldn't go somewhere and see something with her own eyes, she'd read about it instead. That was why she'd found solace in the books SHIELD gave her, and the archives here.

The other option, offered by her mother at an early age, was to find a nice boy and settle down. Loki definitely didn't qualify as a nice boy, but despite the threat she'd once made to him, a nice boy probably wouldn't make her happy. Not the kind her mother had always envisioned Alex marrying, with a stable career and a home for her to look after. She needed adventure and change. Settling down was the opposite of what she wanted. She was going to be pursued by SHIELD anyway; settling would just help them find her quicker.

I want to learn. I want to travel.

She didn't want to stay in Asgard, at least not in the palace. There was too much pressure here, too much expectation. Frigga was already starting the process of making her Loki's keeper, of spinning her into Loki's redemption in the eyes of the people. The queen meant well, but underneath it all she had as much guile as her husband.

Loki's comments about family—and that crack about children the day they visited the meadows—had made her give serious thought to the subject. She had no idea if he'd meant it, but that was an easy decision to make. Loki, as it stood, was not in the right place to be a father. Actually, it had the potential to be disastrous. He needed to come to terms with his heritage and his own place in the universe before he started taking on new identities. So did she. She should probably speak to Sif about birth control. If Alex did have a moment of weakness around Loki, pregnancy wasn't an option. She'd always relied on Loki to prevent it in the past, but now she suspected he'd let nature takes it course. After all, if she had his child, she was definitely tied to him.

I don't want to be royalty. Or a mother (for a long, long time).

That answered some questions, if not what she'd do for money. The biggest one remained unanswered, but Loki still had time to persuade her one way or the other. The more open he was with her, the more he swayed her, but heavens only knew what he could do when faced with Thanos again. He'd been defeated twice; desperation to avoid it a third time could lead him to do things she couldn't accept. And beyond that was the more worrying question of what he wanted. If the Tesseract showed you what your heart desired and he'd wanted to be a king, how long would it be before he switched sides again?

I want to know how badly Loki wants a throne.

Alex knew the only way to get an answer to that question was to ask him directly. After all, he couldn't lie to her, so she'd be guaranteed an honest answer. Cowardice stayed her hand. She let him go about his work, but instead of skulking about in the library during the day, she asked Frigga if she could take a few guards and explore the realm on horseback. She couldn't go out alone—not when many people still distrusted her—and she couldn't go out with Loki so they didn't stumble into a repeat of the last time.

"That's a wonderful idea, my dear," the queen said. "Perhaps on days when we are available, you could ride with myself, or Sif and the Warriors Three?"

It was easy to see what Frigga was doing: she wanted to show people that Alex was close with them all. However, exploring would be more fun with company, so she agreed to it.

Her time with Loki was confined to the palace, so instead he took her on a different kind of exploration. They crept down passages long forgotten until he'd discovered them as a boy, unpeeled illusions left by centuries dead mages, and climbed every tower for the views they afforded over the realm. She still shied away from the questions she needed to ask him, and they'd reached a stalemate. They talked and talked but he'd bared as much as he could. The only parts left were the wounds Eir couldn't heal, the wounds Alex was too afraid to go near for fear of the reactions it would cause. Odin had taken no steps towards reconciliation for the lies he'd told and until that relationship was on the way to reparation, prodding at those scars would unleash havoc she couldn't control.

Though days were of an equal length to Earth, Asgard's different sun and moons meant time was measured differently. It made it difficult to keep track of the date, especially since her monthly cycle was all over the place. As best as she could tell, she'd been on Asgard for six months, with winter finally approaching. It would probably confine her to the palace for a time if travelling would become difficult.

She and Loki had convened on their bench in the gardens for the evening, and he'd draped his cape over her shoulders for extra warmth.

"The Allfather has asked me to assist in rebuilding the Bifrost after the war is over," he said, producing a cup of spiced tea from thin air. She took it gratefully, wrapping her fingers around it.

"Why wait? If you've built all the defences you can, why not start rebuilding it now?"

"It would be like building a road for Thanos to march his army in on. For now, my ideas will remain theoretical."

"And what then?" she asked quietly. "When the bridge is finished?"

"Then I go to Jotunheim."

"Is that Odin's idea too?"

"Yes. If we are to have peace between our two realms then I must repair the damage I wrought on them. I believe he wants me to take the throne in the process; then the realms will be aligned. It will also solve the problem of what to do with me. I'll no longer be the spare heir."

"Do you want that?" She set the tea aside, her stomach too unsettled to drink anything, huddling closer into the cloak. It seemed the universe wanted her to untangle Loki's motives, even if she wasn't quite ready.

"Do I want the throne?" He twisted to face her, tipping her head towards him so she couldn't avoid his gaze. "No. I don't want any throne."

She released the breath she'd been holding. "That's a big change of heart."

"Perhaps. But my motivations have never really been to rule, not in that sense. It's too much time in councils and ceremonies, too much responsibility. I never sought the throne here, despite being told my entire life I would be a king, whatever desires the Tesseract twisted from me. Being away from the cube's manipulations has given me clarity again. Jotunheim is a poor consolation prize, and it is not my home. I can rebuild it and leave it in the hands of whichever ruler they choose in my place."

"It will still be in your blood," she said gently.

"Oh, I'm well aware. I hope time there will allow me to accept that part of myself—I suspect my mother hopes the same thing. I'm not convinced it will work, not when it's the attitudes of the Aesir which need to amend, but I have no control over those."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't apologise for matters beyond your doing and your control, Asta. This is the king's fault. You know, I wonder sometimes how my life might have been if I knew all along. If I had known the throne was truly beyond me from the beginning, events would have been very different. I needn't have considered protocol when it came to you; I would have had a certain freedom."

"How so?"

"For one, I wouldn't have needed to bring you to be tested. I'd have just stolen an apple from the orchards, then whisked you away for good. We'd have spent our lives going from one adventure to the next, exploring the realms properly without care for duty or propriety."

"I'd have liked that." And she would. What she didn't voice was the belief that he wouldn't—not for any length of time. Loki had spent centuries being primed for the throne: it would never have been as simple as walking away from that. Loki enjoyed their jaunts to other realms but he wasn't free-spirited enough to travel endlessly. He needed a goal, and he needed a base to weave his schemes from. He thrived on the machinations of court and his place in them, like a spider on a web tugging at the right strands to ensnare the juiciest fly. A simple life would neither have suited or satisfied him. Maybe he didn't want the throne for his own, but he wouldn't object to being the power behind it. Thor had always believed that was what Loki would become: his closest, wisest adviser. "What would you do if I weren't here?"

He stiffened, and she reached out to cover his hands, to silence him before he took her words the wrong way.

"I don't mean it like that," she said. "I just mean…if we'd never met."

"If we'd never met, I wouldn't be here," he said. "I would have fled to Thanos' side to take revenge for Asgard's slights against me. Or I'd be working to make sure Thanos lost, but so did the Allfather."

"But if there was no war? If you'd been told who you were, and that Thor was the only real heir, but you'd never ended up in the void?"

"Then, I suppose, I'd be able to devote all my time to studying magic, without the burdens of being a prince. I wouldn't have walked far from Thor, though—he may have learned, but he's still too brash, too quick to act. Someone would need to watch him closely, to steer him away from dangerous courses."

As she'd thought. "I know you think he wouldn't listen to you, but I actually think he values your advice. At least when it's to his benefit and not going to land him in exile."

Loki laughed sharply. "Yes, that got out of hand. If he were king then I would ensure he was doing what's best for this realm. I may not be fond of its people anymore, or they fond of me, but it's still my home."

He laced their fingers together, and she was reminded so much of the first time he'd brought her out here: his confession of love and the near-kiss. They'd come so far since then, but in some ways, they hadn't moved at all.

"I've been doing a lot of thinking," she said hesitantly, and his fingers stilled. "And I've made some decisions." He didn't move a muscle, holding his breath while he waited for her to speak. The green of his irises had shrunk to a thin ring, leaving her staring into blown pupils. "I don't want to stay immortal."

He pulled away, a mask of stone falling over his features, but she caught his face between her palms.

"I said I didn't want immortality. It's a separate decision to whether I want you or not, and you know why I don't want to live so long. I want one life, one short mortal life that I can fill with fun and happiness. Not endless years of court, diplomacy and power struggles."

"And what about me?" he asked, his voice cracking. "What about when that short life is over?"

"You do what you told you would do without me—you work with Thor. You make the best of the time we have together and then you make sure Asgard is governed well."

"Then there will be time together," he whispered, caught somewhere between anguish and hope.

"Maybe. If we can agree a compromise."

"I'm not very good at compromising. But I can try. What do you propose?"

"I get my mortality back. You promise not to revert back to the path you've been on the past few years if we're separated again—through my walking away, or reaching the end of that mortality. In return, I'll spend that life with you. Not here, not all the time, but exploring the universe again."

"Trying to keep me out of trouble?" His eyes had drifted closed, a kind of peace settling over him.

"Perhaps."

"You know I will spend your life trying to convince you to eat of Idun's orchards again."

"Yeah, I know. But you'll accept the choice I've made now."

"Yes," he said, eyes opening again to show his pupils were still blown wide open, though the emotion behind them had changed. "For now, it's a compromise. In time, I will still get my way."

"Hmm." She was too caught in his delicious smirk to formulate a real response. The setting sun had drenched his skin in a vibrant aura of colour, his lips pinker than she remembered them being. Her hands rested against his throat and he reached up to thread his fingers into her hair, an old habit he'd been resisting for months.

There was no reason to hold back. No reason to feel this nervous, either—they'd done this so many times. Yet Loki moved slowly, giving her time to change her mind, letting his nose just brush against hers. Whatever he saw in her made him exhale—a short burst of air, part sigh, part laugh, all joy. Then finally, finally, he kissed her.

The soft press of lips to lips should not have had this kind of effect on her. She melted into him, against him, felt him smiling as he tilted her head back fractionally. Though he knew her so well, he explored her like a new lover: barely-there touches, her lips caught between his, the slow glide of his tongue. Making up for the times they could have kissed and didn't. He was apologising, sealing their agreement and claiming her again, all at the same time.

She broke away to gasp, lips tingling with the memory of sensation, and he moved to nuzzle her jaw. They needed to go inside before this progressed—even in the darkness of the gardens someone could discover them.

"Loki," she whispered, and he moaned, covering her mouth with his fingers.

"No words," he said. "Please, no words." The brief flare of panic on his face told her he thought she was regretting it. She kissed the pads of his fingers instead.

"Not out here."

"Why not?" His teeth scraped gently against the pulsepoint in her neck, and she forgot what she'd been trying to say.

"I—" She stopped, distracted by a beam of light near the splintered end of the Bifrost. "What's that?"

He followed her gaze, fingers tightening in her hair. It took him a moment to focus, then he cursed, pulling away. In the harsh glow from the light, he looked paler than ever, and worse, afraid.

"It is Heimdall's warning signal—he can see Thanos clearly despite the cloak. He's close." Even his voice was tight with fear. He scrambled up from the bench, tugging her along behind him, back into the shelter of the palace walls. "It means the army has reached Asgard."

A/N: Happy Valentine's day :). Timing completely coincidental.

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