From The Ashes

By Anna Morgan

Chapter 14 The Saint That Plays the Devil

Unfathomable Devastation.

Chaos.

Helplessness.

Loss.

Death.

These things were all that remained of the realm of Alfheim.

The Mad Titan himself strode triumphantly through the shattered and smoldering remains of the once glorious realm of the Light Elves. Beautiful crystal temples and structures that once symbolized the realm's prosperity and majesty lay in melted, crumpled ruins beneath his feet.

A wide grin spread over his face as he passed the bloodied remains of a fair-haired woman clinging to a bloodied mass of flesh and blankets that was once her child. A beautiful sacrifice to his beautiful mistress…

Thanos focused his attention ahead of him to the remains of the palace. The Other, along with a handful of Chitauri foot soldiers, marched along the path to report to their master.

"My Lord," the Other hissed, "We have searched every crevice within this world. The gem is nowhere to be found."

The grin on Thanos' face disappeared to be replaced with a frown. "You mean to tell me that it is not present here?"

"N-No my Lord. The whereabouts of the gem remain unknown to us." The Other's voice quivered.

Thanos let out a frustrated roar. He grasped the Other around the neck and lifted him into the air and with much anger he slammed him down hard. The ground trembled from the force of his anger, and the Chitauri soldiers cowered in fear.

The Other rose, groaning on the way up so that he stood before the seething angry Titan. Thanos turned away from the Other and clenched his fists. "I cannot wield the full power of the Gauntlet without the final gem," Thanos growled. "Without it, the full extent of the Infinity Gems and the Gauntlet remain closed to me, and ensure failure of the campaign I have so honorably been entrusted with."

"The Asgardian claimed the gem was sent away from Midgard," The Other finally found his voice. "It rests not in Asgard nor with the Elves, the most likely of its protectors. He lies, master," he hissed.

Thanos raised his left arm to examine the precious golden Gauntlet that he wore over his closed fist. He knew the Other's words were true…

"I was a fool to accept the word of the God of Lies," Thanos growled angrily. He turned around quickly to face the Other again. "Prepare the forces. We will go to Midgard," he commanded.

The Other grinned sinisterly. "Yes, my master."

….

The picture of the setting sun's rays fanning over the Manhattan winter sky was a beautiful sight indeed. On the top floor of the Avengers tower, a tall, dark God of Mischief stood at the panoramic window to admire it in complete solitude.

Loki had been left alone on Thor's floor of the tower for last few days – since the robot incident – and he preferred it that way. All that he knew, or that he thought he knew, about himself had been turned on its head and frankly he just needed time to untangle the knot of thoughts and emotions that ensnared him since then. Thankfully, the Avengers seemed content to allow him his space. And so there he was staring out over the Manhattan skyline, admiring the view although most of his thoughts had turned inward.

He placed his hand flat on the cold glass window. For a moment he paused. He drew in a deep breath and he willed his Jotun form to come forward. A cold, tingling sensation crept from his fingertips, crawling up his arms to his face and torso as his skin turned blue. He watched his reflection in the glass as his eyes turned deep red. The monster that looked back at him frightened him; he loathed what he was, feared it, and was disgusted by it. But he acknowledged it was a part of him, and (much as he detested it) it was time he came to terms with that.

It's who you are that defines you, not what you are. That's your choice…

Loki sighed and placed his hand back at his side, causing his Jotun form to retreat back within himself. He felt especially akin to Bruce at that moment as he watched his skin turn to its usual pale complexion: the only difference in their inner monster was their color it seemed.

He suddenly felt the urge to leave the confines of Thor's floor, if only to escape the perpetual prison that he had created for himself. Perhaps he would find Natasha – he hadn't actually apologized properly to her for injuring her. He recomposed himself and then disappeared in a flash of golden light.

….

"You sure you don't wanna tag along, your highness?"

"Yes, Tony, and stop fucking calling me that before I shoot you!"

Tony flashed a self-satisfied grin into the phone and gave a hopeful glance to Pepper before she elbowed her husband in the ribs. Bruce shot his science bro a disapproving look as an unexpected flash of gold light brought everyone's attention to the room's newest occupant.

"Well, look who decided to come out of his cave," Tony joked as Loki reformed himself before them. Loki snarled at this reference to his punishment on Asgard and resisted the urge to freeze him in place.

"Nice to see you out, Loki," Pepper smiled at him. Loki liked her; she was kind, and much less snarky than Tony. Suddenly feeling up to a bit of vengeance, he strode forward and gently grabbed Pepper's hand, giving it a chaste kiss. "And you Missis Stark," he grinned. He felt satisfied with the way Tony frowned at him as Pepper blushed a little at his gesture. Tony snatched her hand possessively from Loki's grasp and shot him a dirty look.

"You wanna come along?" Bruce said brightly. "We're celebrating!"

Loki cocked his head to the side, confused. "And what precisely have you to celebrate?"

Tony looked at him as if the answer were obvious. "Uh, your brother's engagement!"

Loki felt like someone had punched him in the gut. "What?" he said open-mouthed.

"Yeah, you're getting a sister-in-law, Rudolph," Tony said. "Didn't Thor tell you?"

He didn't. Loki was hurt. And a little pissed off. Thor is to be married? Why did he keep this from me…? he thought angrily.

"When did Thor become engaged?" he asked, still looking shocked.

Bruce answered him, "He told us a few days ago, just after we got back from the mission," he said cautiously. "Sorry, Loki, we figured he told you."

Loki processed this for a moment. "To the mortal woman?"

"Yeah, Jane."

He temporarily pushed his anger aside and focused on what he needed to do then. "Do you know where I might find Agent Romanoff this evening?" he changed his ton to more business-like than hurt.

"Her Imperial Highness has decided that she's going to be anti-social…too good to hang around commoners like us…"

"She's on her floor," Pepper cut Ton off and gave him a disapproving look.

"Thank you," Loki replied.

Pepper, being much more intuitive than the men, sensed his unsaid distress and mercifully urged a move-on. "We'd better get going or the crowds are gonna be terrible," she said hurriedly. "You're welcome to join, Loki."

"No, but I thank you kindly for your consideration."

They bade him goodnight as the three of them left, being shooed out by Pepper. Loki stood for a second, brooding as feelings ranging from shock to betrayal to hurt swirled through his blood.

Loki shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose as he sighed. Thor had left for Asgard the previous night so he could not confront him now, as much as he wished to do so. Deciding he would deal with Thor when he returned, Loki rounded the counter and made his way toward the kitchen

He turned on the water, filled a kettle, did some clanking, and shuffled through cabinets until he found what he was looking for. A few minutes later, Loki reemerged from the kitchen, cautiously cradling a steaming cup of raspberry tea with a lemon slice on the edge as though it were an extremely fragile object. He took a moment to admire how pretty it looked before teleporting away.

….

Natasha heard a soft knock on her bedroom door, snapping her attention from the unfinished SHIELD report that sat open on her laptop in front of her. She stood from her desk and answered the door to find Loki, cradling a steaming cup in his hands.

"Loki!" She wasn't sure who she was expecting, but Loki wasn't at the top of the list. She cocked her head to the side with curiosity. "What's that?" her eyes rested on the cup in his hand. The alluring aroma that wafted to her couldn't be mistaken for anything but her raspberry tea.

"An olive branch," he said almost shyly. "I… wish to formally apologize to you." His eyes flickered to her side where he knew the injury he had caused lay wrapped beneath many layers of bandages and gauze (Thank you, Doctor Banner…he thought). "I hope that you are healing well."

Natasha was shocked but truly touched at his offering. "I am, and thank you," she smiled appreciatively. "Do you want to come in?"

Loki's heart soared; finally he had done something right in regards to her. He stepped into the room and looked around for a place to set the cup and decided that a space on the desk, beside an open book and the largest bottle of Russian vodka that he had ever seen, was entirely appropriate.

"How did you find my secret stash of tea?" Natasha asked incredulously.

Loki grinned smugly. " 'But that I am forbid, To tell the secrets of my prison-house, I could a tale unfold,' " he quoted simply.

She rolled her eyes playfully and smiled, "Fine then, keep your secrets."

She turned away from him and made her way back to her desk. It was as she sunk back down into the chair that Loki acknowledged the dark circles forming in the corners and beneath her eyes that only came from lack of rest. The dim light on her face illuminated the contrasting shadows beneath her eyes and made her beautiful face look as though she were a hundred years old.

His grin melted away and his voice suddenly became more concerned. "You have not slept well," he stated.

She shrugged as she picked up her tea and gratefully took a sip. "No," she admitted. Her voice was flat and more tired than her light-hearted tone from only a moment ago. "It's not because of what happened in Russia," she added seeing the guilty look on his face. "Just… things from the past revisiting."

Loki understood; he was all too familiar with those.

He closed the door behind him and made his way to sit on the edge of her neatly-made bed. "Do you wish to speak of it?" he asked lowly.

Natasha looked incredulously at him. First bringing her tea and now offering to be her psychologist?

She sighed. "Sao Paulo," she said simply. Loki just looked at her, waiting patiently for her to continue. "Do you know what happened there?" she asked after a moment of silence.

Loki shook his head. "No. I was… spared the details." A small twinge of guilt panged through him at the indirect reference to what he had done to Clint.

"Well," she looked down at the ground as she spoke. "They took my… my papa. The man who took care of me after the fire that killed my family." Her voice was low. "I was promised by the Soviets that he would be well taken care of and unharmed as long as I continued to do my job well." She drew in a shaky breath before she continued. "I went to check on him one day and found his house ransacked and trashed. He was… kidnapped by a weapons dealer that I had brought down not too long before then, who sought revenge on me. They took the only thing in the world that really meant anything to me."

Loki noticed her tired eyes tearing up slightly now. "They took him to Sao Paulo; beat him, tortured him, all for the sake of luring me in. When I finally brought him back to Russia, he was hurt very badly. I knew he would never be able to live peacefully, never know what it's like not to be hunted, so," She swallowed hard, the words struggling to form on her lips. "So I killed him."

She dipped her head if possible even lower as guilt threatened to break down the dam that held back the river of tears in her eyes.

Loki looked on her helplessly. So she killed her father as well…. He wanted to reach out to her in any way he could to mend the shattered pieces of her soul that she had just bared to him. He took a deep breath and waved his hand around; the chair spun on its own accord and her head jerked up as Loki pulled the chair within arm's reach of his seat on the edge of her bed. Clasping her hands lightly between his own, he spoke the only comforting words he could think to say. His own blazing blue eyes gazed fixedly to her sea green ones as deeply as he could manage.

"You did what was best for your father," he soothed her. "You have naught to be ashamed of."

Their gaze held for a few fleeting seconds before Natasha sighed. "I wish I could believe that," she breathed as he gently withdrew her hands from his hold. Loki mourned the loss of her warmth and the emptiness that now filled the gap between them and tried hard to mask his disappointment.

"You recall that Thor was banished by the Allfather?" he asked. She nodded. "Did he tell you that the fault was mine?" She still didn't speak but looked at him curiously as though he spoke in another language entirely.

Loki sighed. "You have trusted me," he said. "It would be terrible manners if I did not return the gesture." He took another deep breath and then began to speak freely. "I wished to prove my worth as a son of Odin. I was constantly in the shadow of my brother's greatness and I finally had the opportunity to break free of it. My…antics led my brother to march into Jotunheim, seeking battle against the frost giants for ruining his coronation, unaware of my connection to them at the time. For bringing us to the brink of war as a result of that day, he was banished, declared unworthy of his title and powers."

"It was that day I learned of my true parentage from Odin, and though I knew what I was I was desperate to prove that Asgard and Odin were first in my heart over Jotunheim, even if not by blood, and so I traveled to Jotunheim on my own, sought an audience with my biological father, Laufey, the ruler of the frost giants. I lured them to Asgard and into Odin's bedchambers. As Laufey prepared to slay the Allfather, I took his life," he paused at the look in Natasha's eyes, curiosity being replaced by understanding, laced with a hint of sympathy. "All of this done in the name of the Allfather, and of Asgard. But all in vain."

He saw himself clearly in his mind's eye, dangling from the end of the spear, saw the shame in Odin's eyes:

I could have done it, Father! For you! For all of us!

No, Loki…

"For the bastard son of a frost giant could never be seen as anything more than that. Rather than return I did them perhaps the biggest favor I had ever done for anyone, and allowed myself to fall into the void."

And he felt again the final shattering of his own already-cracked soul.

Loki finished his story. The air of understanding and a certain level of camaraderie in light of this new common element between them was almost tangible. Loki gave a wry smile. "You see: it seems we are very much alike."

Natasha shook her head and gave a sad, oblique smile. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make the night all depressing." She stood up, reached for the bottle of vodka sitting on the desk and pulled out a couple of shot glasses from one of the drawers. "I'm glad you finally came out though, we were starting to worry about you," she said a bit more brightly as she poured the two shots. She turned back around and offered one of the glasses to Loki, which he gratefully accepted as he attempted to smile back.

"My brother is engaged," Loki suddenly remembered.

"So I heard."

"He did not inform me. I had to find out from Stark…" he said with an undertone of bitterness as he expertly took the shot of vodka in his hand (Impressive… Natasha thought). He felt it burn and gnaw at his throat as he swallowed hard. "He used to tell me everything."

Shooting for an upturn in the mood, Natasha took the opportunity for a change of subject. "What was it like, growing up with Thor?" It was Loki's turn to look curiously at her. "Was he always so…?" she trailed as she searched hard for an appropriate term to use.

"Ostentatious? Barbaric? Loud, with ghastly table manners and all the combined intelligence of a herd of bilgesnipe? Yes. Yes he was." Loki finished for her.

At that, Natasha laughed; genuinely laughed. Loki laughed too as his heart swelled again to see her smiling and knowing he had caused it. The negativity that filled the room before slowly started to dissipate.

"I was trying to say that a bit more politely."

"I do not believe that would be possible."

There was more soft laughing as Loki used his magic to summoned the bottle of vodka from across the room and poured them both another shot.

….

Several embarrassing stories about Thor and a tall bottle of vodka later, the mood had definitely lightened significantly. Loki couldn't remember the last time he had laughed as he shared fond memories of his childhood. In fact, he didn't think he ever had. Natasha proved to be a good audience, laughing along with him at all the right times. Now, her cheeks were spotted with pink, courtesy of the alcohol and laughter that had ensured, and her eyes shined more brightly than he had ever seen before.

"…so he became flustered at the fact that he could not lift but a single paw of this tiny cat. Eventually he grew frustrated and gave up, and being the fool he was then, he declared that he would wrestle any opponent that would have him to prove his strength. Well, the smallest, most elderly and frail-looking woman stepped up to meet his challenge, and not only did she throw the cat out of her way, she had Thor pinned in the dirt within a moment. You never saw anything more gratifying than a dirty old woman pinning down the mighty God of Thunder as though he were but a child."

This earned him more giggling from Natasha. Gods, she is adorable when she makes that sound…

"How did you get out of that one?" she asked earnestly.

"In the lieu of his shameful defeat, he insulted a hundred warriors around him and they angrily pursued us all the way back to the border of Nordheim. I veiled us in smoke to ease our escape to the bifrost."

This earned him another genuine smile from her. "It seems like you're always having to 'save the day' for him," she teased.

"Indeed it does," he smiled back.

Natasha sighed contently. "Asgard sounds lovely. You know, Stark has been," Loki only looked mildly surprised at this. "He went with Thor to help rebuild. It seems like a nice place to grow up. Not like the Red Room…" she added, her voice a bit sad.

A brilliant idea struck him and a light bulb switched on somewhere in his mind. "Would you like to see it?" Loki asked suddenly, brightly. Natasha looked confused at him again.

Loki stood up abruptly. "Come," he grabbed her hands giddily in his as she looked at him curiously.

Excitedly he led her to the panoramic window that lined an entire wall of her bedroom. Her steps were not as graceful or deliberate as they normally were, he noticed, courtesy of the vodka. He placed his hands gently on her shoulders and a shiver ran down her spine. "Stand there," he ordered as he centered her on the window. She was so close to the window now that her face nearly touched the cold glass.

"Loki, what…?"

"Just trust me," he said. "Close your eyes, and do not open them until I say. Do you understand?" Natasha nodded.

She shut her eyes as he told her to and stood waiting patiently. The air around her felt full of electricity and an energy that she couldn't quite name or explain but it gave her goose bumps and she felt herself shiver ever so slightly again.

Loki conjured as much energy as he could and moved his hands as a painter would on a blank canvas, creating a masterpiece - such a stunning illusion that he impressed even himself. The energy rushed through him wildly and he welcomed its warm intensity, finally able to use the extent of his talents for something other than destruction.

"Alright, open them."

Natasha gasped out loud.

The beautiful night scene of Asgard graced her sight. Hundreds and hundreds of stars shimmered and glowed across the sky, with bright colored galaxies every so often making an appearance among the unfamiliar constellations. All around her were tall golden structures, statues, and buildings adorned with yellow, white, and rose colored lights, all decorated with intricate Celtic-style designs and patterns. Lush gardens sprinkled the ground here and there with flowers and plants she didn't recognize. She could see the waters of a vast, black velvet sea in the distance, even hear the lapping waves, and feel a warm breeze on her face.

She could barely breathe as the beauty of it all nearly choked her.

"Oh my…God Loki…." She gasped.

"Beautiful, is it not?" Loki asked. He placed his hands contently on her shoulders.

Natasha couldn't speak – she was too busy scanning the scene around her with child-like wonder. So intricate were details that she swore Loki had somehow teleported them there, and that this was no illusion.

"This is my view from my bedchambers," Loki explained fondly.

"That is gorgeous," she breathed. "How did you do that?"

Loki smiled smuggle. "Master of magic," he said as though the answer were obvious. "I am proud to say that I have earned that title."

I'll say…Natasha didn't respond but continued to stare out, open-mouthed, at the scene in front of her. Loki, for his part, felt rather proud of himself, vowing to make more of these illusions for her in the future if she would allow.

Her eyes flicked downward to see the image of the strangest looking animal she had ever seen. "Is that a… horse?"

"Yes," Loki said proudly.

"It has eight legs!"

"His name is Sleipnir," he corrected her, offended.

"Is that your 'noble steed' then?" she teased.

Loki flashed his signature mischievous grin. "….You might say that."

After a time that seemed both too long and not long enough, Natasha turned around to face the man responsible for the beautiful masterpiece of an illusion. He was barely inches from her, she nearly collided with his chest as she turned; his hands remained in their place on the outside of her shoulders. "Thank you," she said. It was simple and heartfelt, and it made Loki nearly sing with pleasure.

"You are most welcome."

"You know," she said gently, "you're sweet, Loki." He looked disbelievingly at her. "Really, getting Thor out of trouble, and the way Thor talks about you, and how you've been since you've been here… I really do think you're a good person underneath it all."

He laughed wryly. "That is the alcohol's words I believe."

"No really, I mean it, you are."

" 'And thus I clothe my naked villainy with odd old ends, stol'n out of holy writ and seem a saint when most I play the devil'," he quoted.

"Stop quoting Shakespeare I'm being serious!"

"As am I."

"Just accept the damn compliment," she said. "Worse than any woman, I swear…" she muttered lightheartedly under her breath. Loki smiled sadly, and then his face became more solemn.

"In truth, I am not a virtuous being at all," he spoke slowly. "It goes against my very nature. I have too much on my conscience, too much blood on my hands."

" 'There is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so,' " Natasha quoted cleverly as she crossed her arms over her chest.

Loki didn't feel like arguing with her. "Well, played, woman," he said, "but I remain steadfast," he refused to concede and grant her the victory she sought.

Natasha grinned as she hit him in the side jokingly. "You're so stubborn."

He pinned her wrist to her side in retaliation, using his superior strength to stop her moving as she struggled against him. "And you are audacious, woman."

Subconsciously, almost without realizing he was doing so, he leaned down as he spoke. When he realized how close he was to her he froze. Her eyes shined expectantly up at him, and he knew what she wanted and, he realized, what he wanted as well. The aroma of her rose-scented shampoo mixed with the sharpness of the vodka overwhelmed his senses. Her full lips were enticing and tempting him and his nerves sang so that he nearly gave in.

Natasha raised her free hand, placed it gently on his cheek, and moved forward to close the gap between them. But before she could do so, Loki raised his hand and placed his fingertips on her mouth.

"You, Miss Romanoff, have had too much to drink, I believe," he said gently, even as every fiber of his being fumed and screamed at him angrily for ruining what would have been a perfect moment. "I am not one to take advantage. If, in the morning, you still wish this, I will be glad to acquiesce. But for now, you need rest, I think."

Natasha looked very put out as she nodded, almost embarrassed, lowering her eyes to the ground.

Loki took her hand, led her to her bed and sat her down, damning and cursing his conscience as he did so. The stunning illusion behind them stayed in place. When she was seated he brought her hand up, looking deeply into her eyes, and placed a heartfelt kiss on it. "Goodnight, Natasha," he said softly.

" 'Night Loki," she barely managed to reply before he teleported away.

….

A/N: There you are, another chapter. The title of the chapter, The Saint That Plays the Devil, is significant because it is representative of three things:

Thanos, the bad guy (or the Devil) who is destroying the universe as a token of his love and devotion to the woman Death – he sees himself a Saint because he does what he does out of love (demented though it may be);

Loki, who is of course still the God of Mischief and sees himself to be a "bad" person (a Devil) even though his good side is kind of prevailing now (he's being a Saint);

and Asgard. Asgard,(a heavenly place, the Saint) both the real place and the illusion that Loki creates, is something beautiful that, to Loki, represents something that was a lie (an Illusion if you will – see what I did there?) because he always felt different and out of place and he sees it now as only a place that rejected him (as a Devil). That is my feeble attempt at symbolism. But I am proud of it. So there you are.

Anyway, another chapter down for you. As always, thank you for the favorites, follows, and reviews. Reviews are a much valued and appreciated thing : )