Get ready for a chapter filled with saccharine. I promise, the plot speeds up by a ton by next chapter. I just couldn't help myself with this one. There's a war coming, truly.
And just to give you guys some incentive to stick around: the rest of the chapters in this story are leaning toward the long side (if that's what you guys like...). Lots of stuff has to happen in the course of...eight more chapters?
Also: keep a keen eye on Loki.
When it became evident that the Avengers did not plan on backing down in their plan to follow Thor and Loki to wherever the Bifröst or Loki's secret passageways took them, Loki and Thor did not speak to them for an entire day. None of the others were very worried, knowing that the brothers would crack easily—if they had only a week to prepare departure, their silent treatment could not risk lasting any longer.
Tony, Steve, and Bruce were constantly in the lab, renovating the Iron Man suit and enhancing Steve's shield and uniform to withstand harsher attacks. Clint was counting the arrows in his quiver over and over again, and was constantly reassured that Asgard had arrows should he ever run out, even when Loki had given him a resupplying bow to cover that worry. Natasha cleaned her rifles and handguns, many of them also augmented by Loki's powers when he had tested them against shielding spells. It was only now hitting them all what they had signed up for—they were embarking in a completely new planet to fight a war. A war with a powerful titan and dangerous armies, and here they were armed in complete mortality.
Natasha could see the looming stress in everyone, how they all would be fully awake and brewing a cup of coffee at two in the morning, how they found ways to improve their armor or suits to protect them, how they held their weapons in their hands just to remind themselves that they knew how to use them against any foe. This was nothing like diving into Loki's battle in New York City all those years ago; it was the waiting, the preparing, and the time left for fearing the imminent battle that made now so unbearable.
"Folks, we should get some rest," Bruce said for the fourth time since midnight, when they were all gathered in the training basement testing machine guns. It was near four in the morning and after five belts of ammunition later, he, Natasha, Tony, and Loki came to the conclusion that maybe seven belts would be enough to make a mark on Thanos. Thor, Clint, and Steve were readying medical supplies to bring in case healing stones became a rarity, and were undoubtedly also awake at this hour.
"We didn't even get a test round against the dummies," said Tony, stifling a yawn.
"It won't do us good if we drop from sleep deprivation before the battle even hits us," said Bruce, rubbing his eyes. "It'll only hurt us more if we keep staying up like this."
"One more round," said Tony, cleaning the machine gun. His hands were slick with black oil. "One more round, and we'll go to bed. We wake up first thing in the morning, six thirty—"
"Okay, we're going too far," said Bruce. He took the machine gun away from Tony; Tony groaned in protest. "If you do that, your body will seriously shut itself off and we will last at most five seconds out there. Sleep to your heart's content tonight."
"We don't have time," said Tony. "We're leaving in like, three days. Three days. And Thanos is probably starting his war in ten. What the hell have we been doing these past several months?"
"I should have said something earlier," Loki said. His face was thin as if stress was slowly eating him away. "If only I wasn't so foolish and cowardly—"
"Loki, none of this is your fault," said Bruce. "Honestly, I don't know if we'd be any closer to knowing how to tackle this than if we had one night of planning."
"Yeah, when we plan things, they don't exactly work very well," said Tony, He tried to wipe his eyes with the back of his hand, only to smear oil across his brow. Loki frowned at Tony.
"Tony," he said. "Does Pepper know what you're doing?"
Tony looked up perplexedly. "Where did this question come from?"
"My curiosity," said Loki. "Well?"
Tony opened his mouth before closing it and giving a one-shouldered shrug. "I haven't really had time to tell her."
"So you plan on traversing a million leagues away into space and not let her know?" said Loki.
"No," Tony said. "I'd want to say goodbye, of course."
"Do her a favor and at least warn her beforehand," said Loki.
Tony pursed his lips before wiping his hands with a rag. "She'd want to stop me," he said.
Loki looked at Tony for a while before turning back to his work on the shields. "Maybe you should let her," he said.
Tony threw the soiled rag to the ground.
"Not this again," he said. "Loki, I've made up my mind."
"Then say goodbye to Pepper," said Loki. "Before you leave. Well before you leave. Tell her where you are going, tell her the truth. Tell her you could easily die light years away from her, and then you will go."
"Loki, give it a rest," said Bruce.
"There's going to be a war and Earth's going to be in trouble either way," Tony said, his voice rougher than before. "If I can help stop it before it even touches Earth, then I can protect our world. And I can protect her. And I do that if I go with you guys to Asgard."
"And on the off chance that you can't?" said Loki. "Don't pretend I don't know what happened when you tried sacrificing yourself to destroy the Chitauri ship. You nearly died and you never told her goodbye. It nearly killed her. Do you want to repeat that?"
"How do you know that?" Tony said.
Loki raised an eyebrow at the wall as he continued to vigorously polish the shields. "Pepper likes to have someone to talk to while we do your paperwork."
"Leave her out of this," said Tony. "And don't you dare bring that up again."
"Guys," Natasha said. "It's getting late. Maybe we should—"
"What does she think you're doing now?" said Loki. "Fits of scientific fancy? Star-gazing? Have you been lying to her?"
"Stop talking," said Tony.
"We're ending this conversation now," said Bruce.
"She is the one person you cannot live without, is she not?" said Loki. His voice continued to grow, but he would not look at Tony. Natasha could see his hands shaking from across the room. "So why do you think it is all right to leave her, when you may be the person she cannot live without? And then you throw yourself away and she's left with nothing, alone, abandoned—"
Bruce barely had enough time to stand in the way as Tony lunged at Loki. He grappled with Tony and pinned him against the wall as Tony thrashed in his grip, pure anger burning on his face as he yelled. Natasha too rushed forward to help Bruce as Tony spat poison.
"Why the hell are you talking like this?" Tony said, his voice pouring and burning like magma. "What the hell do you want? What do you want?"
Loki only closed his eyes, and Natasha realized how much in pain he looked, as if speaking those words physically ailed him. Of course, she thought with a wry twist in her gut—of course. What a strange, painful way of trying to protect a friend.
"Tony, please—" said Bruce, and Natasha could see the frustration budding in him. She quickly intervened, taking on Tony's burden herself.
"Tony, stop and breathe," Natasha said in a low voice. She could feel Loki's silent gaze on her back. "Tony, come on—"
"I know what he's trying to do, all right?" Tony said, his voice ricocheting across the metallic room. "I know what you're trying to do, Loki, and you can't. You're trying to push me away, trying to force me to back out, and you're using Pepper against me. Silvertongue, Wordsmith, yada yada—I get it. You nearly made me stop and think, too—but you have to stop."
He stopped struggling, but his limbs were threateningly tense in Natasha's grip, so she did not let go. Tony breathed heavily, glaring accusingly at Loki, who did not move a single muscle.
"Yeah, I get it," said Tony. "I love Pepper. I love her, I love her, I love her, and I don't want anything bad to happen to her, and I don't want to leave her. But how dare you use her as a weapon so that you would make me abandon you all? I want to stay with her, but I need to fight with you guys—fight so that she and you and everyone will be saved. That's what matters to me."
Tony choked, as if the words were becoming too much for him. "Okay, fine. I'll say goodbye to her. I'll—I'll tell her the truth, and soon, and I'll break it to her. But I will not leave you guys. And that doesn't mean I'm leaving her either. You know why? Because we're going to win. I don't care what your pessimistic mind tells you, we're going to win, and then I'm coming back and I'm never letting her go. And you'll think to yourself, 'Well, goddamn and thank God, and to think I nearly tried to get him to—to back out—to—'"
Tony let out a yell of frustration before twisting out of Natasha's grip and sinking a punch into the wall. The sound resonated, making the room shiver. Loki's shoulders would not stop shaking.
"You've got to stop, Loki," said Tony. "You've got to stop thinking you have to be alone, that we shouldn't help you, and that you can't be helped. What the hell or who the hell made you think that way, because I'll personally beat the living daylights out of them. Let us help—let me help—and for God's sake don't try to make me desert you guys, okay?" He let out a strangled noise in his throat. "Okay?"
Loki clutched his arms as if cold, still shaking. Natasha sucked in a sharp intake of breath, waiting, fearing. Even Bruce was on edge, frozen and nervous to move an inch. Tony let out another frustrated growl and punched the wall again, resting his forehead resignedly on the wall. For a long moment, no one spoke or moved, afraid that any disturbance would shatter the dam.
"I'm sorry, Tony," Loki said. His voice was small. "I should—I didn't—I'm sorry. I just—you've done too much for me. I didn't want to repay you with suffering. Please. I'm sorry."
"Oh, hell, Loki," said Tony. He turned around, sliding down against the wall until he slouched on the floor. The weariness of nightless days was heavy in his appearance. "You are an idiot. An idiot with a messed-up way of trying to say thank you."
"You've already done too much because of me," Loki repeated.
"We're your friends, Loki," said Bruce. "Don't you see? We don't want anything from you, we don't demand anything, we don't expect anything, not any of that."
"And remember, I'm doing it for Pepper," Tony said, his voice thick. He offered a thin smile. "So you can't tell me what I can or can't do for Pepper."
Loki gave a weak chuckle before craning his neck until he faced the ceiling. Natasha reached out and touched his elbow gently, as it to assure him that nothing—nothing was wrong. He leaned into her touch, blinking away unshed emotion.
"I am a fool," said Loki. "That I allow myself this sentiment."
She watched how his graceful fingers lingered at his chest, just around the arc reactor. She tightened her fingers around him and he gripped his hand into a fist, letting it fall to his side. He let out a sigh before turning to Tony.
"And to think," said Loki, "that I threw you out a window."
Tony laughed, his voice almost wet—it was nearly unfamiliar.
"To think I instilled a plaque of an outline of where the Hulk smashed your body in my floor," he said.
Loki frowned.
"I beg your pardon?"
"Oh shoot," said Tony. He laughed again. "You weren't supposed to know that."
The next morning, Tony took Pepper to a breakfast date on the outer deck of the tower. The rest of the inhabitants tactfully retreated to different floors.
Natasha found herself at Thor's door, trying to bring herself to knock. She knew he had finished his last phone call with Jane only minutes ago, and he might not be keen on talking with Natasha, but she didn't know where to turn. Hell, she didn't know how to turn, how to ask for help because she was maybe, just maybe, a little bit concerned (not afraid, not afraid, nothing to be afraid of, nothing at all, of course not).
Natasha clenched her teeth. A conversation should not be so nerve-wracking before it even started. After all, what other time did they have left? They had one more day on Earth and then—
She rapped her knuckles twice on the door. She heard Thor's muffled response and looming footsteps behind the wood before the door swung open.
"Natasha," Thor said with the tone of mild surprise. He stepped to the side, gesturing for her to come in. She offered him a quick smile before slipping inside, closing the door behind her.
"Hey, Thor," said Natasha. "Do you have a moment?"
"Of course," said Thor. "Come—sit down." He pulled one of the wicker chairs from the corner to the middle of the room for her to sit on. She couldn't help but chuckle at the act of chivalry but let herself take the offer.
"Thanks," said Natasha.
Thor sat himself down on the edge of the bed. She only now noticed that he was donning his complete Asgardian armor, and tomorrow felt far too close.
"How's Jane?" said Natasha.
"I told her that I was returning to Asgard, and why," said Thor. He sighed. "She was…distressed, to say the least, but she has faith in us. She offers her skills wholeheartedly, if we find a need for them."
"I don't think a Rosen bridge will help us once we get there," Natasha said.
"Perhaps not," said Thor. "I wonder how Pepper is taking the news."
"Probably not well, but she'll keep up her front to look like she is," said Natasha. "If she's angry, she'll show it. But if she's sad, or scared…no, I don't think she'd want to let Tony see."
"Truly, in war some of the strongest hearts are those left out of the battlefield," said Thor.
"Is mourning hard? In Asgard?"
"I'm sure all grief is difficult, regardless of where one is," said Thor.
"I know," said Natasha. "But you guys—I mean, AEsir—are meant to be immortal, or at least you live for thousands of years. Death isn't natural for you, in some sense. Here on Earth, we know everyone will die someday, some sooner or later than others. But for you guys, if someone dies, it isn't a subject of inevitability. It's…I guess a shock, isn't it?"
"I see," Thor said. His voice was soft. "You are right, in a way. I do not know how it is, to mourn death but all the while knowing that I will follow in due time. I suppose for us—for the AEsir—death is tragic. Unless it's from old age, and they pass to Valhalla after millennia of life, in which their lives will be celebrated following their death. But when one should die of battle, or illness, or anything else…" His voice trailed away before he shook his head. "It is painful. To understand that you will spend era after era without them."
"Is that how you felt when you thought Loki died?" said Natasha.
Thor's face fell at her words. Natasha inwardly flinched.
"Maybe I shouldn't have brought it up," she said.
"No, it..." Thor hesitated before giving her a cheerless smile. "One would think I would get over his death considering he's very much alive. But I still..." He shook his head. "This will sound pathetic to you. I still have nightmares about it. And when I wake up, I have to make sure he's still alive almost immediately afterward or I'll—I haven't forgotten it yet. Even now."
"I'm sorry," Natasha said. It only just occurred to her how little she considered Thor's sadness. To think that Thor, the boisterous and optimistic mountain of a man who could literally laugh a storm, still had so much brokenness in him made her ache.
"It's silly, isn't it?" said Thor. "I'm still grieving for a death that never really happened."
"There's nothing wrong with it still hurting," said Natasha. "I mean, you saw him d—you saw him let go. That's got to be almost scarring."
Thor nodded. "It was strange to mourn...we had to pretend that we moved on, well enough to rule Asgard with a steady heart. I don't think Mother smiled in that year we believed him dead." He sighed, rubbing his chin tiredly. "Loki does not believe me, but Asgard truly mourned for him. His charm and magic was popular among the children of the realm, and the commoners' delighted in his tricks. The nobility—well, they thought to see a different side of him. But the artisans honored him subtly in their work, the stable boys continued to take care of his steed, and the cobblestone roads were constantly lined with flowers. There is something about those with no royal blood, no crown or name, no riches, that somehow lets them cherish the good in everything."
"It seems to be that way more often than naught," said Natasha. "You never really talked to anyone about it, have you?"
"Not exactly," said Thor. "Anyone of Asgard can tell you of how my anger is more than just noticeable by all."
"And some on Earth can concur too, I'm sure," said Natasha.
Thor laughed.
"I am no stranger to anger," he said. "But I was lost in grief. I didn't know how to live with it. I still do not, I suppose." He gave a wry smile. "I suppose not many in Asgard do. Of course, who in all Nine Realms understand how to master grief?"
Natasha let her gaze fall to her fingers curled on her lap. "What about a mortal? Do you mourn the lives of mortals?"
Thor frowned slightly. "Truthfully, few if any other Asgardians personally know mortals to genuinely mourn for them."
"No one else has ever came to Earth and fell in love with a human or something?" said Natasha. "Were you an unprecedented case?"
Thor bit his lip. "I do not believe so. At least, there were probably moments when AEsir would come down on Midgard and—ah—spend a night with mortal men or women, but never anything deeper. If they did, then I certainly do not know their stories."
Natasha shifted in her seat.
"Do you mind if I ask what will happen next?" said Natasha.
"What do you mean?" said Thor.
"Pretend this whole situation of Thanos and the war never existed," said Natasha. "That life would be normal the day after tomorrow. Do you…I mean, do you plan on marrying Jane?"
Thor ran a hand across the back of his head. He exhaled softly.
"We both want to know each other deeper," said Thor. "I do not think that marriage is in our minds."
"But say you want to consider it," said Natasha.
Thor gave her a smile but he said nothing.
"How, though?" she said. "She's mortal. And you aren't."
Thor's gaze flickered to the curtained window. "I am aware," he said, his voice light.
"Even if you were able to make her immortal somehow," said Natasha, "would she really want to leave her friends here on Earth?"
"I do not know," said Thor. "We do not even know if we both would want to marry each other. We are only just rekindling our friendship after nearly four years of being apart. But…" He heaved a sigh. "What you say is correct. Marriage between AEsir and a mortal is unprecedented, and not without a reason."
"A mortal's lifespan is at most eighty or so years," said Natasha. "How quickly does that pass for people like you?"
Thor rubbed his arms protectively. It was so strange to see such a strong and physically foreboding man like Thor shrink back as if to protect himself from the inevitability of mortality.
"An AEsir child would not have yet grown in that time," Thor said. "No…it is not so long in comparison to an eternity."
"How would you stand that?" said Natasha. "If you ended up loving her and marrying her, how would you stand only having such a short time with her?"
"When love is involved, any time that is given to us is far better than none at all," said Thor. "Yes, eight decades is nothing compared to what I will face afterward, but would I sacrifice the chance of loving and being loved and a happiness I've yet to know all because I fear the pain that would follow? No…I am not afraid of heartbreak. No life is safe from them, especially a life as long as mine."
"Would you really want to fall in love with someone you knew you couldn't stand losing?" said Natasha. "And when she will be gone, it would hurt like hell? Is it really better that way?"
"Natasha, we do not love someone because we can stand the risk of losing them," said Thor. "We love others because we don't ever want to be apart, even if that may be inevitable."
Natasha closed her eyes, her heart fluttering painfully and hopefully—a daunting combination. She clasped her hands together, trying to fill in the empty gaps. Her fingers were nowhere near as long, as slender, as cool as his.
"But she won't be able to live by your side forever," she said. "And you—you won't be able to grow old together with her."
Thor was silent and she suddenly wished she had said nothing. She did not mean to hurt Thor, if she had, but was it not the truth? One never became attached to a rainbow or a shooting star when the sky stretched forever and endless, and those tiny miracles died away after only one breath. How were humans any different?
(Was she any different?)
"What is it that is on your mind, Natasha?" Thor said. His voice was kind.
"I don't know how to say it," said Natasha. She opened her eyes and pressed her fingers against her lips. "I just…it seems so hard for you. I was worried that you'll be sad for ages afterward. If Loki's supposed death shook you like the way it did, what would you do if your wife had died, but there was no miracle where they appeared alive again somewhere on Earth? I just…I couldn't imagine it. An eternity."
Natasha rubbed the back of her neck, suddenly feeling so unnaturally exposed. Was this the fate that Thor had signed himself up for, for falling in love with this Jane Foster? Eighty or so years of happiness, before falling into loneliness and mourning for who knew how long? Was that the curse of immortality, that they could not fall in love with what could not last, which was nearly everything?
"And then, I'm a little selfish," said Natasha. "Because after hearing what Tony and Loki said about Tony leaving Pepper for war—if Tony had died and Pepper was left behind—it just had me thinking. Those two love each other a lot, and if one had to live without the other…even for a mortal life, that's painful. That's really painful. So I—I got almost scared. Because—"
She caught herself before she let the words escape her mouth, and she distracted herself by pretending she was fiddling with her shoelaces. Thor watched her carefully, his blue eyes wise and worn.
"Natasha," said Thor. "Do you…is there something between you and my brother?"
Amazing, how she somehow completely remembered and completely forgot that Thor and Loki were brothers. With Thor asking her this so bluntly, she only now realized that no shotgun speech Clint could ever give would compare to whatever threats Thor may have to give to whoever came close to his little brother.
"Why do you say that?" she said, raising her eyebrows carefully.
"Loki is not as discreet about his emotions as he would think," Thor said, "and you do not act as apathetic as you claim."
Natasha gave a small chuckle, rubbing her forehead tiredly. "Yeah? Well, how long have you suspected this?"
"A good while," said Thor. "Though, I will not be satisfied of my perception just yet as you've neither confirmed nor denied it."
"Right," said Natasha. She took a deep breath. "I care for Loki. I care for him a lot. But…I don't know what happens next. If there can be anything after this." She gave a wry smile. "I can't say I'm certain about how he feels, either. If he feels the same or…" She shrugged. "Anyway. I was asking. Because it's obvious you and Jane are growing close, and no matter what something has to come after, whether it's in one way we'd like or one way we'd expect."
Thor nodded slowly. "Well, if it will put your mind at ease in any way," said Thor, "I am almost certain that Loki treasures you deeply."
Natasha laughed. "You Asgardians like to say things in ways that make them sound a lot more extraordinary than it ought to be."
"Or perhaps you let your doubts and fears lessen the true value," Thor said. "It's true. You are dear to him. Not that he would tell me himself, considering what happened last time he did…"
Natasha gave a smile, even though the idea of Loki having affection for another, regardless of how long ago or what results ensued, made her insides twinge painfully. What did she expect, though? That he in his two thousand or so years would not feel anything for anyone until now? That was foolish talk—fit for a shallow teen romance, if anything. Even humans of her age would easily fall in love with thirty-three individuals in the course of twenty plus years, and that ought to not be a surprise.
"May I ask you deeper questions?" said Thor.
"Oh." Natasha bit the tip of her tongue, recognizing that with deeper questions demanded honesty, a trait she still struggled with. "Go ahead."
"What does your relationship with Loki mean to you?" said Thor.
"You mean, what we have now?" said Natasha. "It means a great deal to me. I want him to be happy—to be loved, to be cared for, to be valued—and frankly, I want to be the one to do that for him. And he makes me happy—more than that, better than that…" She felt her cheeks burn and she rubbed the back of her head. "I mean—yeah. I cherish it—him—a lot."
"You don't have to be afraid of me, you know," Thor said, raising his eyebrows good-naturedly.
"I know," Natasha said with a snort. "But I've never really talked about this with anyone else besides Loki, you know? And now I'm admitting everything to his big brother."
"You needn't worry," said Thor. "I've made myself responsible for warding off Loki's love-stricken admirers for many millennia and I think you are far above and beyond them."
"Wait—what?" Natasha said.
Thor smirked. "I only jest. Well, partly." He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "What do you hope for, Natasha? In your relationship with him?"
"I feel like the both of us ought to admit to each other what's going on between us before we get to that," Natasha said, her face burning.
"Well, your sentiments remain either way, I would think," said Thor. "Do you hope for marriage? Was that…was that why you were asking me those questions?"
Natasha took in a deep breath before looking away. "I don't know," she said. "If we are to be realistic…no matter how we feel about each other mutually, there are things that can't change for us. Me being mortal, first off. Us being a part of two completely different—er—planets."
"Frankly," said Thor. "If love is true and holds fast, even those problems would not hinder you. It just may find a way through in a way you did not expect."
"I'm sorry if I've offended you in any way," said Natasha. "I really do hope for the best for you, with Jane or whoever you end up loving."
Thor smiled. "Thank you, Natasha." His gaze fell to the floor as his thoughts drifted elsewhere. "And…I suppose, to answer your question, if I wanted to marry Jane and I was not needed on Asgard, and she did not want to leave her life here on Midgard, I would stay with her until the end."
"You would?" said Natasha. "But she'll grow old while you can't. She'll die and you'll be—quite frankly—unchanged."
"Love is watching someone die, Natasha," said Thor. "I would not leave her during her last moment to protect myself." He paused for a moment before clearing his throat. "I beg permission to ask something of you."
"Of course," said Natasha.
"Please be good to him," said Thor. "And be sure that he is good to you. Love has hurt him in the past and I don't want him to be wounded by it anymore. And I would not want you to face the same either."
"I—" Natasha began to say before her voice caught in her throat. She nodded, unable to hold back her smile. "Thanks, Thor. That really means a lot to me."
Thor returned his characteristic beam. Realizing that she had practically received what was an equivalent of Thor's blessing (though perhaps not enough to be able to lift Mjölnir, she was sure of that), she couldn't help but give a sigh of relief and lean back in her chair.
"So," said Thor, "should I expect some good news in the future?"
"What?" said Natasha.
"I mean, most of the stories are mortal-made and inaccurate," said Thor with a cheeky smile, "but the best way to dispel rumors of Loki's supposed—ah—promiscuity of Midgardian mythology is settling down."
Natasha choked with laughter. "I was going to ask you about that."
"Ask away," said Thor, evidently extremely humored at the rumors of Loki's many sexual escapades.
"Well," Natasha said. "Er—Sleipnir?"
"Ah, Father's eight-legged steed," said Thor.
"He's real?"
"Well, of course," said Thor. "But not in the way that the mortals of long ago ðilfari was indeed Sleipnir's father, but Father's acquiring of Sleipnir was as a prize for compensation of the past. I do not think that Father would use his own grandson as a steed if that was truly the case."
"Oh good," said Natasha. "I was—I mean, I sort of suspected that they were just myths, but you know…can't be certain about anything nowadays."
"And yet you never asked Loki?" said Thor with a wink.
"I didn't think he'd be too keen on some of his first words spoken in a long while to be defending himself from giving birth to a foal."
"No, but I doubt he'd enjoy such no matter how many words he spoke beforehand," said Thor.
"Touché," said Natasha. "So uh, if you don't mind me asking a little more…"
"By all means," said Thor.
"Who's this Angrboða person and should I be worried?"
Thor chortled, throwing his head back in his laughter. "Now, that story probably all started the one time during the Dísablót festival of the one thousandth and one-hundred thirteenth year…"
Loki was used to stressful situations—though war certainly had a category of its own—but his body would refuse to stand still even if his thoughts were relatively tamed. He paced, he fiddled with pens, he opened and closed the window just to use his arms—his body wanted to make its entire run before throwing itself into inevitable uncertainty.
He spent days and nights in Tony's study, trying to iron out the last minute battle plans. The study looked hardly touched except by Loki—Tony probably preferred his workrooms and machinery over books plastered on all four walls and dim amber light. Loki did not mind—it reminded him of his own chambers back in Asgard, where he sought solace and privacy. He wished he had discovered this room in the tower earlier.
The desk was strewn with papers peppered with diagrams and Old Norse text. Some of the battle tactics, others—lists of spells to use for weaponry. A map of Yggdrasil, with Midgard safely nestled in the middle as all the other Nine Realms surrounded it. He couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief. Thanos could not reach Midgard unless he got through the other Realms. Then he remembered that Natasha—and the rest of the Avengers, for that matter—were coming with him to Asgard anyway.
He closed his eyes, leaning back in his chair. In the midst of all that fear, all that disapproval that she was coming, all that doubt—he was glad she would be with him. It was a hidden gladness, one that was greedy and insensible, but to know that she would be with him till the end—at the end—gave him comfort.
He did not know what to expect for the end. By war's hand, perhaps, or beyond it, with a flash of light and the Mind Gem vanquishing him as a foe, but…she would be there. And she would see it.
The thought of such pained him cruelly. He seemed to make it a habit to make others watch him fall, he thought grimly.
He wondered if she would mourn. How she would mourn. Like Thor, whose etchings on his arm guards did not go unnoticed to Loki? Like Frigga, a silent shieldwoman who bottled her being as if it were her obligation?
(Is this love, Silvertongue?)
He rested his hand on his lips.
Typical of you, he thought. Your heart burns for someone and at death's door you've yet to even tell her. Enemy of truth indeed.
He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to squelch his thoughts. His head spun and he gritted his teeth; the lightheadedness never truly left.
Did she know?
Did she know what she was doing to him?
Did she even realize?
Loki pressed his tongue against the roof of his mouth. After being mute for so long, and now he was free to speak just before he would reach the strange and unpredictable end, and he had left so much unsaid. Nearly two thousand years of life and here he was, almost out of time.
There was still one day more, and then—war. And there would be no room for sentiment then.
Shall he risk it?
Did he dare?
Because he knew—he knew—should they actually succeed, should she be able to return home, he would not be able to bring himself to follow. He would disappear—in Asgard, where Thor and Frigga would mourn into shadows? To an abandoned star about to burst? He would hide, like a cat crawling away to die, and that would be the end.
But he hungered that she would remember him.
He hesitated.
But should this be the last day, with merely one day more to live like this, then he wanted this to be a day she would remember—a moment she would remember him forever. Even beyond his—fate.
He bit down on his tongue. How selfish he was, that he was desperate to have her remember him even if they had to be apart, even if death took him. That he was not willing to pull himself away from her until his disappearance would be a minor blow as nobler characters would, but that he hungered for her to remember him, to think of him even when he was gone…to miss him.
How disgusting he was, that he wanted to inflict that sort of pain on her. That he yearned for her heart even beyond his time.
He leaned forward in his chair, resting his head in his hands. Love was a conundrum, that it made a heart so selfless and selfish at the same time. It defied nature, defied logic, defied everything that once made order and sense.
"Mind if I join you?"
He looked up with surprise at the sudden interject, only to see the speak of the devil at the door. Natasha peeked through the doorway expectantly, and his heartbeat hiccupped at the sight of her. He swallowed hard before nodding.
(One day more)
She settled herself in one of the armchairs opposite of the desk. He could feel her watching him closely as he shuffled the papers into a pile at the corner of the table. His fingers begged him to not let them remain idle.
"What are you working on?" said Natasha.
"Just reminders for myself," said Loki. "I can enhance Asgard's bluntly primeval weapons and armor with spells so that they may stand a chance against the Chitauri and the Kree's technology, but I need to remember the formula, and perhaps see if I can do more."
"Not everyone's weapons are like your scepter or Mjölnir, huh?" said Natasha.
"Far from it," said Loki. "Both were gifts, in the most relative sense. And rare gifts, at that." He rubbed his lips in thought. "Anyway, most of Asgard, or the Nine Realms for that matter, do not possess such weapons. If they tried facing the Chitauri's rifles or the Kree's ammunition with their swords and shields, they would fall before they even lay a blow on the enemy."
"Does everyone else use swords and such to fight?" said Natasha.
"Many do," said Loki. "Though different races will have some powers of their own to enhance their attack or defense. The Vanir are magical creatures, as are most of the elf races. The Frost Giants can manipulate ice."
At the mention of the Frost Giants, Loki frowned briefly. The thought of their race frosted his mind until his thoughts were numbed.
"Anyway," said Loki, "A bit of an advantage on our side wouldn't hurt."
"Can I ask you something?" said Natasha.
"By all means," said Loki.
"Who is Laufey?" said Natasha.
Loki paused. "I should have known you'd wonder about that."
"What did he do to you?" she said.
"It's quite a dull and unfortunate story," said Loki. "I wouldn't want to bore you with details."
"I don't think it's quite as boring as you say," said Natasha.
Loki exhaled deeply, resting his chin on his interlocked fingers. The thought of Laufey made a lump in his throat—out of anger or some other emotion he couldn't quite put his finger on, he did not want to consider. But she had given him all her truths, even the ones that pained her—could he not trust her enough to do the same?
"Laufey was the king of Jotunheim, and Odin's enemy," said Loki. "He was the one who waged destruction of Midgard to take for the Frost Giants, and who got into a war with the All-Father, which resulted in Asgard's—ah—displeasure of Jotunheim." He pressed his lips together. "He was also my birth father."
Natasha said nothing. She rested her hands on the desk, open to listen. It only occurred to Loki that despite all this time, despite all they knew about each other, this was only the second time they had a mutual conversation.
"When Thor was banished, I arranged for him to be murdered in hopes I would do something for Asgard's favor for once," said Loki. "The rest is ancient history."
"He wasn't the man who raised you," she said, more as a confirmation than a statement.
"He was not so unfortunate," said Loki.
Natasha furrowed her eyebrows. Loki shrugged.
"He abandoned me when I was a baby because I was too small and relatively unhealthy for a Frost Giant," said Loki. "He was a vicious and harsh king; he would not have room for runts like me."
"Looks like he made the wrong call," said Natasha.
"I wouldn't know," said Loki. "If I were truly raised as a prince of Jotunheim, there's a possibility that Thor would not mind killing me. Strange how life works."
"Have you ever been to Jotunheim?"
"Of course I have. How else would I have arranged Laufey to walk into my trap?"
"No, I mean—actually be in Jotunheim," said Natasha. "Like, talk to the people, see their culture…see their lives."
Loki furrowed his eyebrows. "I have no reason to. Why would I want to?"
"I don't know," said Natasha. "See what they're like?"
"I already know that they are brash and coarse creatures," said Loki, bitterness creeping into his mind. "I do not need more proof."
"How do you know that?" said Natasha. "Through Laufey?"
"They've always been coarse people," said Loki.
"Yeah, I'm sure Asgard knows all about it, having only interacted with Frost Giants through war," said Natasha.
Loki opened his mouth before closing it again in thought.
"Do you know who your birth mother was, out of curiosity?" Natasha said, her voice soft.
"No," said Loki. "Probably a woman of no importance. I don't see a child of pure royal blood being cast out even if his stature was slight."
"Does it still hurt you?" said Natasha.
"It never hurt me, the fact I was thrown out," said Loki with remarkable ease. "I hated the fact that Father or Mother never told me, thinking they could keep it a secret from me that I was a very poor bargaining chip, only for me to find out on my own."
"So that's how it came about," Natasha said with a small sigh.
"They claimed that they wanted to protect me from the truth," said Loki. "So they swaddled me in a lie. Admirable attempt, I'm sure, but a doomed one at that. I was afraid of Frost Giants when I was a child. Irony apparently found me when I was young."
"Why were you afraid of them?" said Natasha.
"Why wouldn't I be?" said Loki. "Imagine when you were a child, didn't something keep you awake in the middle of the night? Nightmares of sorts? Even something like a shadow under your bed? Those were Frost Giants for children on Asgard. We grew up with tales of their brutality and violence, no matter how hard Mother tried to tell us otherwise. Strangely enough, it is easier to believe the words of thousands than that of your own mother."
"And yet all this time, you are living proof to Asgard that Frost Giants aren't all cruel," said Natasha.
Loki smiled wryly. "I wouldn't say that. I was a nuisance to the court, and I can't say that the public adores me in the slightest. Look at me; I've many different sides of me that aren't pleasant. Regicide, patricide, fratricide, genocide, suicide—" He paused before brushing the thought away. "Needless to say, my welcome back from Midgard those years ago was not a warm one. And neither will this one be."
The looming thought of returning to Asgard was a heavy shadow in his mind. Asgard was his original and foremost home, so why was he so afraid? Did he fear the scorns and jeers of the nobles as he passed, the townspeople and their frightened anger at the murderer of mortals? Did he fear facing his father, he whom Loki had failed over and over again? He bit his lip at the thought of facing Odin's disappointment (again). Perhaps Odin would be upset that Loki was alive and relatively well, when his captivity and torture was what ensured the Infinity Gauntlet away from Thanos' hand. Perhaps he would not trust Loki, after all he had done, and throw him into the barracks before Loki could explain.
And for good reason, too. The crimes still blackened Loki's hands no matter who held them, and such a thought panged Loki painfully. As much as his raw, childish self ached to see his father's face, fear and hopelessness and hurt plagued him.
"You know," said Natasha. "The asphodels that you placed around that memorial? They've never died, and they're still there. People are baffled by it, but in a good way."
Loki raised his eyebrows at Natasha.
"I know they were from you," said Natasha.
"I'm not questioning that," said Loki. "I'm questioning why you're bringing this up."
"I'm just saying," said Natasha. "For someone who committed all those crimes, you don't seem very unrepentant about them."
Loki rested his chin in his hand.
"Remorse does very little in this life," said Loki. "Not when several hundred are dead." He smiled in spite of himself. "Stark tells me that a council of Earth wants me executed."
"You're kidding," said Natasha.
"Now, my sense of humor isn't that entirely black."
Natasha leaned back in her chair, brushing her hair from her face. "See, this is what I've come to hate about assassins and executions and all that," she said. "There's always hope and chance that something would change, that a person will change their ways, and still…"
"Stark somehow dammed the storm, though I can't say for how long," said Loki. "I can't entirely blame nor escape them. No doubt Asgard will demand my neck as well when I return."
Though, at the rate that his luck was going, he might beat them all to it first.
"Thor said that the townspeople loved you," said Natasha. "That they truly grieved when you—well, the first time you were gone."
"I have given them no reason to," said Loki.
"Love isn't like money where you work for it," said Natasha. "Otherwise, I don't think any of us would deserve love."
"You do," said Loki. The words slipped out of his mouth before he could check himself. He cleared his throat, the back of his neck burning. Even Natasha was visibly caught off guard, caught between being flustered and touched.
"The day I deserve love," said Natasha, "is the day you do too. And you do, Loki." She leaned forward. "Are you concerned about going home?"
"Ah," said Loki with a sigh. "Somehow you—what was the phrase again?—hit the nail on its head."
"Did I?" said Natasha, her voice gentle.
Loki ran a hand over his forehead tiredly. "Why would they accept me? I ought to sooner be shot down the moment my feet touch the Bifröst." He closed his eyes. "How am I supposed to face my father? He would never want to see me again—he would never—"
"Of course he would want to see you again," said Natasha. "He searched for you. When you were taken, he was preparing to save you, only Thor beat him to it."
"But why?" said Loki. "All I've ever been or done was—I don't even know what I am. I'm not his son. Not a prince of Asgard." He gave a smile void of emotion. "It's been a long while since I was ever anyone."
"You are Loki, and that is more than enough for us," said Natasha. "You don't have to try to be anything else."
His eyes fixed on hers. That rush of emotion flowed through him again and he took a breath. He wished he would never have to look away.
"Natasha."
"Yeah?" said Natasha.
"I—" For a Silvertongue, he found his greatest weapon completely tongue-tied. How was one supposed to confess when he never held anyone's affection before, when he was almost positive that he had never done so much as held another person's hand in his ridiculously long life?
Natasha raised her eyebrows, and for a moment Loki was convinced that she knew exactly what he wanted to tell her, but was too tempted to hear Loki verbally plow his way through to inform him. He swallowed and locked his gaze on her.
"May I bring you somewhere?" Loki said softly.
Natasha blinked. "Sure," she said. "But where? And why?"
"Because I want to show you someplace," said Loki. "Somewhere where you will enjoy."
Just for a moment.
The corner of Natasha's lips twitched upward. "Is this your way of asking me on a date, Loki?"
"I beg your pardon?" Loki said. Why did she assume that he wanted to give her fruit?
"A date? You know—what's the right word?—when you take someone out in a social engagement because there's something between them. Something—like courting."
"Oh—I see," said Loki. His mouth curved into a smooth smile. "That's a terrible word for something far sweeter."
He rose from his chair and offered a hand to her. "Will you come?"
Natasha watched him closely before giving him a crooked smile and taking his hand.
He let his magic surge through her until they were bonded with his powers, an invisible union. He closed his eyes, concentrating on his location, before he finally used his magic to teleport them away from Stark Tower, away from New York City, to a place peaceful and without other people, any wars or enemies, where she could focus on him and him alone. Where he could be her everything, because that was how he felt about her even in the middle of a crowd or a war or when it was just them two in the night.
Midnight swathed them, with only the luminescent moon to light their way. There was no city with their streetlights to interrupt the darkness, none of their traffic that mowed down the serenity. Only the soft sigh of the ocean brushing against the shore, rippling like sifting silk.
Natasha took in a sharp breath, clutching Loki's hand tightly as she slowly revolved around the spot, taking in the sweet loneliness. A dark outline of a small crag was a little ways off, like a blot of a darker blue on the canvas. Smooth pebbles shifted under her step and she nearly jumped. Loki held on to her closely.
"Where are we?" said Natasha, her voice hushed.
"You already know," said Loki.
He bent low to pick up a smooth, round stone from the ground. Running his thumb over the surface, he poised his hand, narrowing his eyes to study the delicate horizon of the ocean.
"Is this—I mean, are we where I think we are?" Natasha said.
Loki gave her a crooked smile before sharply flicking his wrist, skipping the stone across the surface of the water. The moment the stone touched the water, radiant blue bloomed at its surface, as if a mythical creature walked upon the water and left luminous footsteps behind. Natasha stared, transfixed, edging closer to the shore.
"You can't be serious," she said. "Are we really? Is this—is this actually real?"
She grasped a stone at her feet. With one swift motion she hurled the stone into the water. Her eyes widened at the sight of the bright blue blossoming at the contact. She threw another stone, and another, letting the ripples glimmer with surrealism, relishing in the quiet, beautiful miracle.
"Oh my God," said Natasha. "You actually took me to see them. You remembered that I wanted to see them. Oh my word…oh my God, oh my God, oh my God."
Each word grew with incredulous laughter and joy and she kicked her shoes and socks off, running into the water. Her footsteps left an unbelievable shimmer at her wake until everything was illuminated. The bright blue lightened the nighttime like fireworks as she jumped through the water, running until each splash sent a sparkle about her, dancing, spinning.
"I see it!" said Natasha, and Loki could hear her smile. "I see it, it's here, I'm here, I see it and it's so real. We're all so real. This miracle is real."
She looked so lovely in the moonlight, until Loki thought he would ache just watching her outstretch her arms as if to catch the drops of her dream that flew from her feet. Her smile was so genuine, so great until it too glowed in the night, with her arms thrown out to embrace the night, that he remembered the sketch of her he made all those weeks ago, except this was far more perfect. This was real.
"Come on, Loki!" said Natasha, running toward him, nearly falling face-first into the water as the sand caught at her toes. She splashed water onto him before taking his hand. "Come into the water with me."
Loki barely had enough time to take off his shoes before Natasha pulled him by the hand into the ocean. The Australian water was warm to the touch, the sand soft as velvet between his toes as each movement he made in the water made more and more wonders. She held his hand and they both ran through the water, conjuring their own magic as the sea sparkle danced about them.
This was real. This phenomenon was real, and best of all, they were real.
They laughed and shouted as they splashed each other, sending waves of beautiful blue at each other until they were soaked. They waded further and further until they were nearly to their hips in the water, the state of their clothes completely foregone. At one point, Loki lifted Natasha clean off her feet, and just like a chivalrous gentleman, threw her into the water. The ocean blushed electric blue.
"You are not getting away for that!" Natasha said before skimming her arms across the surface, sending a large wave against Loki. He laughed and stepped back, only to misstep and fall onto his back into the water. The blue cradled his outline and he wondered if it would seep into his skin. Bright blue coated him and for once he was not afraid.
"Come on, old man," said Natasha, pulling him back onto his feet. Her grin never wavered. "Do you have anything like this on Asgard?"
Loki took her gently, both hands on her waist.
"Nothing even close," he said.
She looked up at him, her red hair wet and framing her face. She placed her hands on his shoulder. They danced in the water, guided by the moonlight. Each move they made sent sparkles about them, a kind of magic that even Loki could never master. And yet they couldn't take their eyes off of each other.
Fear did not exist anymore. Neither did regret, nor anger, nor bitterness, nor pain. All that existed was her, her only, her soft breath against his chest and her heartbeat against him. So long as she lived, he would live.
He almost forgot why he brought her here. He lowered his head until his lips barely brushed over the top of her head.
"Natasha," he said.
She stayed silent, and Loki took it as permission to continue speaking.
"There's something I want to tell you," he said.
Her fingers tightened on his shoulders.
"If this is some sort of confession that will make me upset," said Natasha, "I recommend you save it."
Loki closed his mouth, a small smile on his lips. He closed his eyes, and her image still burned in his mind.
"Well?" said Natasha. "What is it?"
"Just wanted to tell you that we are in Australia right now," said Loki, "and I've no idea what bizarre indigenous creatures they may have living in the waters."
"There's an alien prince in their ocean. It can't get any weirder," she said, lifting her face to him.
Loki brushed a strand of dark red hair behind her ear. "Have you ever been kissed, Natasha?"
"That's a cheeky question," said Natasha.
"Have you?"
Natasha raised an eyebrow. "What if I said yes?"
"I wouldn't be surprised," said Loki.
"And if I said no?"
Loki leaned in closer, lowering his voice. His lips were mere millimeters away from hers. "I'd get my hopes up."
He felt her shudder and he closed his eyes. However, his lips did not meet hers, but her fingers when she stopped him. He glanced down at her fingertips at his lips in bemusement before lifting his eyes to hers. Her blue eyes shone, and he thought he could feel the smallest tremor down her hand.
"Loki," said Natasha. "We're leaving tomorrow to go to war."
"Yes," said Loki, his lips brushing against her fingers as he spoke.
"I'm not naïve," said Natasha. "I know what war does to people. Especially if they're afraid." She lowered her hand, backing away slightly. "If you want to kiss me—but you're doing it now because you're afraid that you won't have any chance after this—then save it. Because there will be another chance. After we win the war. I won't kiss you until we've fought the last battle and come out victorious. So you hold on until then. You understand?"
Loki took in a deep breath. It was a promise he knew he could not trust and it hurt to realize that. But how could he tell her? How could he leave her like that?
"All right," he said. He could barely hear himself. "All right."
She smiled at him before nestling her head against his neck. He swallowed hard, holding her closer as they rocked with the rhythm of the ocean, speechless. He wished this would never end, but his heart knew that while Natasha saw this as their first, he could not see it as anything else but their last.
I love you.
The words were at his lips and yet he did not know how to say them.
I'm sorry.
How could words that were meant to bring so much happiness have the power to break so much?
I love you.
He pressed his lips against the top of her head. She was so warm.
"Loki?" said Natasha.
"Hmm?" said Loki.
She twisted slightly, pointing to the crag a little ways off.
"Will you jump with me?" she said. "Into the water?" She laughed in spite of herself. "It's childish, I'm sure, but…I want to fall into the lights."
Loki's lips curled into a smile.
"Race you there?" he said.
Natasha didn't even answer before she tore herself from Loki with alarming speed toward the rocky crag. He hastily followed her, his clothes heavy with water as he emerged onto the shore. The thin water tickled his ankles.
The crag was perhaps twenty-five feet above the deeper waters, slick with moss and smooth stone. Natasha clambered onto the rock quickly, her eyes narrowed with excited determination. She turned to Loki.
"To the edge," she said.
They crept closer to the tapering end of the crag. The ocean hummed below them, licking at the wall of stone. With no more disturbances, the water was inky and barely visible as if nothing ever changed.
"What if there are rocks below?" said Loki.
"Then we die," said Natasha.
Loki snorted. "Ever the optimistic one."
Natasha laughed. She held out her hand to him.
"Together?" she said.
He took it readily. They stood side-by-side on the point of the peak, their toes barely off the edge. He wondered if there truly were rocks below them, but it hardly mattered anymore.
"One—" said Natasha.
He tightened his grip on her. Their fingers melted into each other, fitting as perfectly as keys and locks.
"Two—"
He took in a deep breath and he could still feel her heartbeat against his chest.
"Three!"
Together, they fell.