"Show me a hero and I'll write you a tragedy."

–F. Scott Fitzgerald

Freyja couldn't sleep. Her head was too full with worries and memories, both recent and distant, for her to calm her mind enough to so much as rest. The responses of each of the Avengers had been less than satisfactory and she couldn't help wonder if she could have changed that in any way. But by doing what? She couldn't force them to see Loki differently. She supposed she could have, if she really wanted to, but such tactics were immoral. And the more she thought of their opinions, the more she felt her own uncertainty regarding his actions.

Perhaps the solution had to do with Loki himself. Could she have changed the path he had taken? She knew the answer was yes. Frigga, Thor, and many others had always told her she was the only person who could change Loki's mind on many matters. She was the only one who could sway his moods and talk him out of the more ridiculous of his schemes. She could have returned to Asgard, and helped him with the pain of the truth. But something worse would have happened in the end had she returned.

Asgard, and ultimately everyone she loved, would have been destroyed. She could never live with herself if that happened – she could barely cope with the fact that her own people were dead because of her mistakes. And then there was the fact that Loki had turned to the destruction of Earth and she had no idea of the matter. How Thanos had gotten to him even despite the measures she took to protect him.

She remembered when she had made him that promise. He had looked at her as though she had lost her mind, but hadn't told her she was incapable of such. Instead, he had promised he would protect her, as well. It wasn't possible, she had known, given what she had been told of her future all her life. Few people had a destiny in her Realm, but those that did were supposed to feel blessed to serve a higher purpose. It had felt more like a curse when she knew Loki wouldn't be able to do as he promised.

"Do you not trust me to keep my oath?" he had once asked, looking confused and hurt by her response. "I know I am not as strong as Thor…that I cannot lift a hammer or swing an axe, but that does not mean I cannot protect you."

She had looked into his emerald green eyes, unable to tell him why he couldn't possible protect her entirely. It would have broken his heart to know the truth.

"I know," she had said in reply.

And he had smiled.

She had never told him the real answer. She trusted him with her life, and it was the full truth, but some things were inevitable. It had never seemed too important to her given that they were only friends. Though it would have been painful, she could have easily gone to her fate with a simple goodbye. But the unexpected had happened: she began to see him differently.

She could not name what it was at the time, but something had been different. The flash of his teeth when he smiled, the shine of his deep green eyes when he laughed, the way he scrunched his nose when he was deep in thought, the way his fingers would subconsciously trace imaginary circles on a surface when he wasn't truly listening. Nothing had changed and, yet, nothing was the same, either. She hadn't realized it was herself that was different.

A week after that and she had found that he, too, saw her differently. He knew her every habit, her every strength and weakness. He relished when her strange electric blue eyes shone with happiness, craved her smile and laughter, smiled as she bit her lip when facing a problem. Worse, he had become oddly envious of the time she spent around the suitors her father had sent her way, even when he knew she felt nothing towards them. And she had not been aware of this until he had told her much later.

It had only been a month before the Inga's Night when Freyja found out what had changed between them. Loki had knocked lightly on her door in the still of the night, only a day after they had kissed. She had opened it quickly, sensing something was wrong, and had nearly dropped the candelabrum when she saw him.

His face had been bruised and battered, blood running down from his nose as he held a filthy rag to it. His hair and clothes had been disheveled and the leather torn in areas. His left eye had been on the verge of swelling up, though it remained open, as well as his bottom lip. He had looked as though he had fought an armada single-handedly and lost.

"By Sophossentia," she had whispered. "What happened?"

"May I come in? I need your aid," he muttered, his tone dismissive in his weariness.

"I can see that," she answered, opening the door so he could come in.

As he had limped past her, he exhaled in relief and she could smell ale on his breath. He had been drinking and brawling. She had locked the door behind him, stifling a grimace at the thought, and sat him down on the bed. She had known why he needed her to heal him. If he had used magic in that state, it would have killed him.

She'd tapped the hand holding the bloodied rag, gesturing for him to lower it. Much to her dismay, his nose was broken close to the bridge, the entire area transformed into a purple mess of broken blood vessels. Besides the bruises and scratches, nothing else had been visibly wrong with him.

"Is it your face alone that took the brunt of the damage?"

"Not exactly," he had said with a wince, starting to unravel the strips of leather that were woven over his stomach.

"Don't," she had warned. "I'll handle this."

She had taken off the leather trench coat he wore and had continued to remove the strips from his hands, unraveling them as well as the strips of emerald green silk mixed in. Finally pulling back the last bits of chainmail and leather, she had pulled up the black silk shirt underneath, sucking in a breath of surprise at the sight. He would have had less bruising if Thor had hit him with a tree trunk. She had known this, sadly enough, from experience. When she had touched his cool skin, she had found it rigid from internal bleeding.

"What did you do?" she had demanded, motioning for him to lie down.

"I found myself in a fight with Odr."

She had nearly dropped his clothes in surprise at the name of her most persistent suitor. She looked him in the eye, trying not to let her disgust show in her expression.

"You and I both know you do not simply 'find' yourself in a fight, Loki Odinson."

He had smiled at that, "Alright, I may have landed the first blow."

"Damn you for your antics," she had hissed, running her hands over his abdomen to heal the bleeding. "I keep quiet when you continue your potentially dangerous hoaxes, but must you also antagonize men to violence?"

"In reality, he provoked me."

She had glanced up at his face, her fingers trailing silver smoke even as she stopped the spell, and he didn't waver in his earnest expression. The intensity in his gaze had made her embarrassed and she had looked away quickly. Peeling back the rest of his shirt, she had busied herself by searching for more wounds of any kind.

"Are you not going to ask me what he did?"

She had sighed, "Do I truly want to know?"

"I do not see how your father approves of Odr. He acts as though you are a prize to be won, merely a pretty trinket to collect. It sickens me."

"You were offended by something he said?" she had asked.

He had looked at her so solemnly, his emotions completely unguarded, "He bragged to the entire bar that your father had all but promised him your hand. And then proceeded to lament at how…how fragile your race is, how he would likely break you during the consummation of your marriage. He laughed about making you bleed."

"Those are just the words of a drunk, Loki," she had muttered, but it had taken all of her strength not to shiver in disgust.

"He meant them," Loki had whispered. "I felt it."

She had sighed at his reasoning, "I don't need you getting hurt because you think you must defend my honor."

"If I do not, then who will?"

She had looked away from his imploring green eyes, "I can defend it myself, thank you. My people may not be as physically strong as yours but, so long as I have my magic, I am safe."

He had winced as she moved her work to his mutilated face, "But you are a pacifist. A person who does not fight cannot defend herself."

"No, a person who does not fight cannot attack. Not all defensive magic is violent. Now, stop moving, or you will make matters worse."

He had opened his mouth to speak once more, but had apparently decided against it. She had done her best to heal him that night, but some things would just need time, like the residual aches. Pain had rolled off of him in waves as he tried to get up. She had put a hand to his chest, forcing him to lie back down.

"I should leave for my chambers," he had protested.

"You should stay here and rest while you can," she had replied, pulling the down comforter around him. "It will do nothing but ruin my work if you walk to your chambers now."

He had sighed, remaining where he lay, but had asked, "Where will you sleep?"

"Right next to you," she had answered instantly, slipping onto the empty half of the mattress.

"What of propriety?"

"Oh, come now, Loki," she had snapped, snuffing out the candles with a wave of her hand. "We used to share a bed many a time as children. Besides, there is more than enough room for the both of us."

She could feel his discomfort despite the several inches between them, and it had become obvious that he could not rest in such a state. So she did the only thing she could think of. She allowed tendrils of her aura to meander throughout the room, coiling around everything in reach, until the very floor was covered by the silver smoke. She had felt his pain recede at the familiar touch of her aura, even as she gave him some of her strength.

She had begun to sing a lullaby in her own language, one that her nursemaid in Vanaheim had sang to her when she couldn't sleep. Loki had sighed in relief from his spot on the bed and drifted off to sleep not long after.

Freyja didn't notice when she started to hum the tune idly while reminiscing. Nor did she remember, when the morning came, when exactly sleep took her. But as reality relinquished its hold on her, she drifted off into a memory that she regarded with mixed feelings.

She was ten at the time and Loki was barely over twelve. But he kneeled in front of her in silence, nothing in his posture betraying him if he was nervous, his eyes closed as though he trusted her completely. She had her hands on either side of his head, slowly chanting the incantation for the Awakening. She had to make absolutely sure that everything was running smoothly.

They had been in the tower since sunrise and now it was nearly noon. The process should have taken a lot less time, according to the journals regarding Eirik's trials, but she wanted to make sure nothing hurt Loki. She had altered the spell, adding in a few charms that would protect his mind from what might harm him during the ritual.

She was almost done, that much she could tell from the brightening glow of his aura around his body. She just needed to finish this last crucial part. If anything went wrong here, she knew, the consequences would be deadly. She just hoped she had enough energy to sustain the last portion of the Awakening.

Her hair had already turned grey, as it did when she was using too much energy, but she couldn't afford to stop halfway through. She couldn't borrow some of Loki's energy either, as he needed it for his body and mind to properly cope with the changes. She could do nothing but hope for the best as she continued.

As she uttered the last syllable, something unexpected happened. Though there was no physical change, no perceptional difference, she could just feel it. Something was going horribly wrong. Loki's aura struck out in retaliation, the wave of energy making Freyja fly backwards into the stone wall. She tried to stay conscious as she picked herself off the ground. She glanced toward the center of the room in fear, trying to focus as the whole room seemed to turn on its side.

Loki was lying limp on the ground, his body unnaturally still. She rushed to him, checking for breathing or a heartbeat, her frantic terror cutting through the exhaustion. He was barely breathing and his pulse was escalating dangerously. Worse, when she entered his mind to check on him, she could feel his consciousness tearing at the seams like paint on the side of an old ship. He was dying. And she didn't have the energy to save him.

"Guards!" she shrieked, not knowing what else to do. "Guards, help!"

Within a few minutes, the locked door was broken and the guards were rushing their prince, along with her, to the healing rooms. She couldn't think straight as they ran through the palace. Despite the confusion, one thought replayed itself over and over in her mind. She was the reason Loki was dying.

When they reached the infirmary, Freyja broke away from the guard's hold and ran to where the Healers were working to see what was wrong with him. One of them, who she recognized to be another Vanir, quickly told the others of the problem.

All heads turned to her, condemnation in all of their eyes. She thought it couldn't get any worse but, much to her grief, she was wrong. Odin, Frigga, and Thor all ran in not long after. Her heart dropped as she saw their faces. Thor turned to face her, anger and grief and betrayal all mixed into one heartbreaking expression.

"What's wrong with Loki?" he demanded. "What have you done to him?"

She shook her head fervently, "I didn't mean to! I thought-"

She went quiet when Odin's stormy grey eyes met hers. Frigga was now holding Loki's hand, murmuring under her breath in what Freyja recognized as Vaniric.

"What happened?" Odin demanded.

"Your majesty, I believe Princess Freyja attempted to Awaken his mind…" the Vanir Healer said, trailing off as he saw the All-Father's expression.

Odin took hold off her shoulders, his fingers digging painfully into her skin and Freyja had to force back the memories of her father, "Is this true?"

She nodded, tears running down her face, "I didn't know…I thought I was capable."

"There's nothing we can do, sire. The prince will not see the next dawn."

Now truly everyone looked at her with silent accusations, and they had the right to. She was the sole reason Loki lay dying in the cot. She ran from the room, wanting to cry and scream and curse the world, ashamed and horrified at how her actions had gone.

Loki had begged her to attempt Awakening him, he had never stopped pleading. He had known the consequences and told her he was willing to take the risk. Now her best friend was slowly, painfully dying as his mind fell apart.

She sunk down to the floor of the hall outside, her back against the wall. Feeling helpless and disgusted with herself, she wrapped her arms around her legs and cried into her knees. She hadn't meant for it to go this way, hadn't meant for Loki to get hurt because of her, she had even modified the incantations so that the outcome would be successful. And it hadn't worked.

One thought went through her mind, and that was that if her father didn't kill her for this, Odin would. She knew the Asgardian laws, had studied months to make sure she had learned every aspect of their culture, a death required vengeance on the murderer. She would die soon after Loki did.

She didn't pay attention to Odin leading Frigga and Thor out hours later, nor when the Healers left the infirmary for the night. She felt as if she was alone in the dark and soon she truly was. When the sun was finally setting, and she had stopped crying long enough to see, she stood up and walked into the infirmary. Loki still lay on the cot, paler than usual. She sat down on the chair next to him and took his hand.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, not knowing if he could hear her or not. "I thought I could fix the incantation, make it successful. I was wrong. Will you forgive me? I know you don't believe in my faith, but I hope to see you again among the stars, even if you do not wish to see me. I would understand if you didn't."

She sat in silence, searching through the shattering remains of his mind. She realized something then, something that could potentially save him. It might kill her, especially when she had so little energy left, but it might save Loki.

She began to chant again, picking the words out of her memory and creating a new spell to match what she needed. No one had ever thought of something so crazy before, or perhaps they had and simply decided against it, but maybe she was a little crazy for doing such a thing. Perhaps crazy was exactly what she needed given the circumstances.

Coils of her aura wrapped around Loki, igniting his at the same time. Through the spell, she wove together their minds, their emotions, to create a link between them. She could feel what he was feeling, and she knew, if he still could feel, he could tell what she felt as well. The bond allowed her to share the pain he felt and assess the damage.

Through the link, she managed to repair the damage she had cause to his mind. Elation flooded through her as she finished, despite the weariness that threatened to engulf her, the darkness creeping over her vision so very. As she uttered the last words, she felt his vitality as strongly as if it were her own. He bolted up straight as she collapsed to the floor in exhaustion. She lost consciousness, but she was vaguely aware of Loki's concern and relief as it flooded through her, and she let herself be carried into the blissful dark.

She had saved him, and now she didn't care what happened to herself.

When she woke up next, she was in a cot in the infirmary. Loki was asleep in the chair next to her. She sat up slowly, as every muscle in her body seemed to protest, and examined him silently. He was still pale, but in his usual way, his black hair messy and sticking up in areas, dark circles surrounded his eyes, and his mouth hung open slightly. He didn't look particularly healthy, but he was most definitely alive.

She could feel his consciousness more than usual, a result of her last minute save, and its tranquility further calmed her own mind. Satisfied her work was completed, she laid back down and closed her eyes. She sensed Loki opening his eyes next to her and stretching in his chair.

"I know you're awake," he said.

"I am aware of that," she answered.

"Why can I feel your emotions? How come I know whether you are awake, or thinking, or asleep?"

She opened one eye to look at him, "Because I created a spell that would save you. And it, in turn, created a mental link between our minds so that I may fix what I had done."

"You should not have done that. Folkvar said you nearly killed yourself trying to save me."

"Folkvar?"

"The Vanir Healer. He said he gave you some of his energy so you would not die," he told her before gesturing to her still grey hair, "Why is your hair not red?"

"Consider this your first lesson in magic," she said, giving a relieved chuckle. "If one uses too much magic at once, the body takes the necessary energy from elsewhere. First, your hair will grey, then your nails will die, your muscles fail next, your bones crumble and disintegrate, everything collapses as the energy is taken."

His green eyes widened, "I did not know that."

"There are many things you do not know," she sighed, feeling exhausted on numerous levels. "Which I will tell you…at a later time."

"Are you alright?"

"Not in the slightest," she said in a shaky laugh.

"I forgive you, by the way."

"I beg your pardon?"

A small smile crept across his lips, "I heard what you said, and I want you to know that I forgive you. I cannot believe it actually worked. You should have seen the Healers' faces when I called for them."

She went to reply, but Folkvar walked into the room the moment she opened her mouth. He stared at her in surprise before turning to Loki.

"You were to tell me when she awoke," he said stiffly.

"She just came around," Loki lied.

Folkvar bowed his head, "I understand. Princess, your father has come and wishes to speak with you. Immediately."

She plastered a fake smile on her face, "Thank you, Folkvar. Please tell him I will see him right away."

"He will be waiting in the Throne Room," he informed her, bowing and walking out.

She groaned as soon as the door closed, "Perfect. If Odin does not murder me, my father certainly will."

He laughed, and when she turned to face him, she was in a new memory. He was older now, about twenty by Asgardian standards. She knew he was truly a few centuries old, give or take a decade. His eyes glittered mischievously in the darkness of her chambers.

"Is that sugar?" he asked incredulously.

Her hand flew to the spot on her neck that he had been kissing not a second earlier. Sure enough, she could feel the fine powder of confectionary sugar on her skin.

"Damn Thor!" she exclaimed in horror. "I thought I had gotten it all…"

"What, pray tell, does Thor have to do with you being coated with sugar?" he asked curiously.

"I was speaking with Ottar when he walked in, drunk. I said something he did not agree with, and he threw the first thing he could reach at me, which just so happened to be sugar."

"Hmm. I must remember to send him a thank-you gift," he mumbled. "In the meantime, however, I will simply have to find the rest."

He began kissing her again, his tongue tracing softly over her skin. She really wasn't sure whether she did or did not like when he kissed her like this. It was an intimate gesture, yet she could still feel his restraint, but it also tickled. Much to her dismay.

"Stop it!" she laughed, trying to squirm out of his arms that trapped her like a cage. "Loki!"

She felt him grin against her skin, but he didn't stop. He continued relentlessly, now barely grazing his teeth across her shoulder, something he knew she loved. His fingers traced their way down her sides, his cold touch both torturing and pleasing.

"Freyja," he whispered, tone soft as if it were a secret only they shared.

"Yes?" she replied softly.

"I love you. More than I should."

She smiled as he looked up to meet her eyes, "By all rights, I should not love you at all, and yet I love you more than anything in the world. What point are you trying to make?"

"Will you be mine alone?"

She leaned closer, her lips brushing against his ear, "So long as you are mine."

He backed up slightly, his eyes now serious, "Do you not believe that I have given you myself? Would it comfort you if I swore to only to sleep in your bed?"

"I should hope you won't, lest I find my bed quite cramped with three," she teased, thinking about the rumors she had heard.

He flinched, not realizing she was joking. She had known the rumors had bothered him, but she didn't know they hurt him so. Did he think she truly believed that he was still involved with Sigyn? The entire notion was utterly ridiculous. She knew their brief history, but he had made it clear that she had been no more than a distraction.

"I swear to you, love, there is nothing between Sigyn and I," he told her.

She turned his head so that she could face him, "Is your faith in me so fickle? Do you honestly think I believe the tales spread by drunkards and inn keepers' wives?

"Forgive me for my cautions."

"There is nothing to forgive."

She trailed off as she kissed him on the lips, though she was not as reserved as he always was. It drove her insane that he was always so hesitant with her, always prepared for the inexistent moment in which she would tell him to stop, and that the Æsir were reserved in their gestures. Although he gave her everything that pleased her, he held back slightly, a product of both the culture he had been raised in and the insecurities his peers had helped to create. He was afraid of being rebuffed, and she did not blame him for she felt the same fear.

Something strange happened then. Instead of the memory continuing as she remembered it, Loki broke the kiss. He pulled away, his features twisted into an expression she did not recognize, as though the gesture was not entirely his. A splotch of red blossomed on the front of his black silk shirt. She screamed, but silence was the only thing that filled the room. His lips parted and a single, familiarly haunting voice rang through her head as Loki formed words that were not his own.

"I know what you treasure most, dear Princess. I have not forgotten," the voice hissed. "I will find you, sweet Freyja. I may have once spared your precious prince, but you have prolonged my suffering, and so I shall bring you yours. Give me what I want, and I shall half your punishment. Continue to defy me, continue to run and hide like the coward you are, and I will bring you tortures unlike anything you have known. You will know the true meaning of pain."

Freyja sat up as she was brought back to reality, her body tangled in the sheets. Her eyes scanned the room as she tried desperately to remember where she was. The knowledge that she was in her bedroom in the Avengers Tower, relatively safe for the time being, took her a while to wrap her head around in her fear. Her heartbeat was pounding in her ears as the overwhelming terror began to dissipate. Thanos had always had that effect on her, a feeling that was caused by him being the only person able to enter her mind and his poisonous aura. Though he could not manipulate her mind, he could break through many of her defenses, too many for her taste.

A knock on bedroom door made her jump. She shook her head, silently telling herself that it could not possibly be Thanos, and walked over to the door in her white pajamas.

"Freyja? Have you awakened?"

She rolled her eyes at the ridiculous question. Though Thor had changed for the better, she thought, it seemed he still had his penchant for asking ridiculous questions from time to time. It was not that he was an imbecile, but rather a nasty habit that had rubbed off on him from the other Asgardians.

"If I hadn't, I wouldn't be able to answer, now would I?" she called in return.

She opened the door to find him smiling sheepishly as he said, "I suppose not."

"And why, pray tell, are you here at this hour?"

"You and I must speak with Director Fury of S.H.I.E.L.D."

She sighed in resignation, "Alright, spare me three minutes. I should be ready by then."

She closed the door the second he nodded and got dressed slowly. It was all good and well that Thor was to take her to Fury, especially given that she did need to speak with the man. Thanos was still searching for her, and he would eventually wise up and find her on Earth, which would put the entire Realm in danger. She had to leave and soon. But to do that, she would need her ship back and, in turn, need to bargain with S.H.I.E.L.D.

If she didn't leave soon, she would condemn the humans to the horror and devastation Thanos would bring with him. She didn't want anyone else to die because of her. She would have no more marks on her armlets.