Not only are we buckling down for a war, but I am buckling down for finals! Finals studying week, here I come...

Also, to clear up some concerns I did not realize existed, Death with whom Thanos is in love is NOT Hela. In fact, Hela does not exist in this story. As I had mentioned in the second chapter of the story, this story's foundations are built on Marvel movieverse with whatever comic and mythological details of my choosing. Loki does NOT have children or wives in this story.

It's just occurring to me now just how dang long this story is.

"I will not drink that monstrosity."

Thor was not usually one to lose his temper with Loki. With Odin, yes. With the Warriors Three or Sif, very rarely. But with Loki? A rough word was expected when Loki's sauciness went a step too far, but even then Thor would sooner tease back than let his anger show. But Loki could see the twitch in Thor's eyebrow and the growing roughness in his voice as his ire surged.

Frankly, Loki found it amusing.

"When will you stop acting like a child?" said Thor.

"It's a potion. I hate potions," said Loki.

"And I hated mushrooms, but that didn't stop you from sneaking them into my birthday feast once when we were young, did it?"

Loki's lips twisted into a smile. "It was just a bit of fun, you know that. But this is a different matter."

Thor held the vial higher until it was eye-level to Loki. The contents swished ominously in the clear bottle, seemingly innocent with a slight orange hue but leaving condensation in its tracks against the glass.

"Eir says this will restore your strength and rejuvenate your body," said Thor. "Even if your body is in a weakened state, this potion will aid it."

"I am not breaking down, for goodness' sake," said Loki. The armies were preparing themselves last minute for the looming battle, with only a night at most to prepare, and here the two of them were bickering about these unnecessary means. "Thor, the others are gathering themselves for formation. We cannot tarry like this."

"We needn't tarry if only you would oblige," Thor said. "Do not lie to me and tell me that you are feeling at your strongest."

"I am at my strongest," said Loki.

"You're a talented liar, Loki, but you are not flawless," said Thor. "You nearly collapsed when you returned from Jotunheim."

"But I did not," said Loki. "Allow me my mistakes, Thor. I do not make them again."

"That wasn't a mistake, and this is not a mistake," said Thor. "Please, Loki, save your strength and take this."

Loki pulled on his gloves, struggling to fit it over the one hand encased in metal. "They are only a temporary buzz for a much more complicated problem," he said. "They do not fix the problem, only mask the symptoms. They would be pointless."

"You would know, as you only took a potion at most once in your life."

"It was horrible and the stomach flu barely improved. I will not repeat that mistake."

Thor let out an exasperated huff and uncorked the bottle. Loki held up a hand defensively.

"You will not force-feed me anything," said Loki. "Don't you dare."

"Then listen to me, for once," said Thor.

"After all those years of you not listening to me?" said Loki.

Thor gritted his teeth. Loki shook his head irately, sliding his sword into the scabbard at his side. He did not want to deal with the helmet or the cloak in this battle—there was too much at stake to try to look good dying.

"Where do you think you're going?" said Thor.

Loki rolled his eyes. "I was thinking of attending a wedding. Thor, there's a war tomorrow."

"You will not fight in it," said Thor.

Loki paused for a moment, his eyes narrowing, before scoffing. "Very endearing, Thor. Now, if you have nothing else to say, we really ought to be going, as they are ushering our civilians to refuges right now and we should be there for them."

He reached out to pull open the door before he was suddenly pulled back. Thor wrenched him away from leaving, his face set in unyielding and intimidating stone. Loki tried to rip his arm away, but Thor's grip was unrelenting.

"You will not fight in this war," said Thor. "You will stay with the civilians in their refuges underground, and you shall not participate in the battle."

This had to be a cruel jest, to pay back for all the awful lies Loki told Thor in the years past. There could be no possible way that Thor was serious about this. But when Loki waited and waited for Thor to crack under the pressure of the truth as he always did and let go, there was nothing but Thor's stony determination.

"You," said Loki, "cannot be serious. No—"

"Loki—" Thor said as Loki pulled away from him.

"Do not think that you can force me to sit out of this war, Thor," Loki said, his voice raising. "I will not sit aside and wait around like a coward when I should be out there with our warriors defending the Realms."

"Listen to me, Loki," said Thor. Loki dodged Thor's reach immediately.

"Are you barking mad?" said Loki. "A prince of Asgard does not hide in the rocks and shadows until danger passes. I am a warrior, regardless of what the culture says about knives and magic. I can defend our home and I shall."

"Thanos will target you, Loki," said Thor. "You have the Mind Gem within you and if Thanos attacks Asgard in attempt to claim the Infinity Gauntlet, he will want all of the components to come with it. And the Mind Gem is one of them. He will take you, Loki! He will take you and kill you for the Mind Gem, and then he will have the absolute power that the Gauntlet promises."

"Do you think several meters of stone under the ground will stop him?" said Loki. "He will not be fooled if he does not see me in combat. He will tear out every man, woman, and child that stands between him and me and hiding away with the civilians will solve nothing."

"Loki, do not be a fool," said Thor. "The Mind Gem proves dangerous to you, and to all around you. We know what Thanos can do to manipulate what is inside of you—if he does so in the middle of battle—"

"Then those around me will be in danger regardless of where I am or where I hide," said Loki. "If you think I will make a decision that will put Asgard or anyone in danger—"

"I know you will not! I know that your will is strong," said Thor. "But Loki—Loki, you are weakened, and you cannot deny that. You said so yourself, that you are fading. If you are in battle—if you fight until all your strength is spent—"

"Oh," said Loki, and his voice grew icy. "You do not seek to protect Asgard. You seek to protect me."

"You make it sound like a crime," said Thor.

"You will be king, Thor," said Loki. "And a king ought to look out for the safety of his kingdom than the second son."

"Do not speak as if you mean nothing," said Thor. "I do seek the protection of Asgard, but you too are a part of Asgard."

"And the potion—is that what is going on as well?" said Loki. "You think these small acts will borrow more time for me? I am already on long due time, and I do not need your sympathies."

"Sympathy?" said Thor. "Sympathy? You think this mere flit of pity? Loki, I care about you, I want you safe and well—why will you not understand?"

"Your potion—these attempts—are nothing," said Loki. "Do you understand the Mind Gem, Thor? Only a force of nearly indestructible power can maybe scratch it, and perhaps then I will walk free. You may smash your hammer against my chest all you want and perhaps that will end it, but obviously I will not come out unscathed. Do you think it will be outsmarted by mere manmade sorcery?"

"Who will let you fight?" said Thor. "No—even the Avengers will not let you enter battle. Mother and Father should not. You've told them what ails you, so don't you go believing that I am foolish in my desire to protect you."

Loki pressed his lips together furiously. When Thor understood Loki's silence, his eyes became icy cold in a way that Loki could not recognize.

"You did not tell anyone else, did you?" said Thor. "That you are dying?"

"The timing isn't exactly right," said Loki.

"Then I will tell Father and Mother myself, and they will reason with you," said Thor.

"No!" Loki immediately placed himself between Thor and the door. "Do not breathe a word of this to our parents. To anyone."

"And yet I know," said Thor.

"I know you know, and I regret telling you," Loki said. Thor flinched as if Loki's words were barbs against his skin.

"You do not mean that," said Thor, his voice thin. "You trust me—don't you? You trust me, enough to tell me the truth. Enough to talk to me."

"But that you would go through all this worry and false hope just for the petty chance that my end will not come—or that you can delay it as far as you wish," said Loki. "Is this not torture to yourself?"

"You do not know if it is out of vain," Thor said, a faint tremor running down his words. "You yourself are not certain—no one has ever said that there was no hope—"

"For goodness' sake, Thor," Loki said. "For goodness' sake—why can you not just let it be and get it over with? You've lost me plenty times before, you ought to be used to it by now."

It wasn't until Loki truly looked upon Thor's face did he realize how cruel his words were. Thor looked as if Loki had stabbed him with a venomous knife after a sweet gesture, and Loki immediately despised himself and his wretched, impulsive tongue.

"I should not have said that," said Loki. "Thor—"

"I don't understand," Thor said. His voice was fragile. "Why? Why do you think that I can deal with the pain of losing you so flippantly? Why do you think your death ought to mean nothing to me?"

"I don't mean it," Loki said. "I don't—I don't know."

"Nothing will ever soften the blow," said Thor. "I know that. Even if what I can try and prevent will do nothing more but stretch time, it will never be enough. I know. I know. But I cannot just do nothing—try nothing—when we are not sure. When there could be hope. Loki, please—I can't let you die. I want to protect you but now in the moment that threatens you the most I can't."

"Thor—" But Loki did not know what to say. Why did his lying, goading, tempting silver tongue fail him now? Such was the effect of too much honesty, that even the simplest lies were clumsy.

"I will not let Thanos of all creatures claim my life so soon," said Loki. "I have more pride than that, brother."

Thor said nothing. He only reached out and placed both hands on Loki's shoulders. Loki could tell by the way Thor's fingers gripped him tightly that he could feel that daunting slenderness underneath the skin.

"Do not leave my side," said Thor. "And I will make sure of that."

Loki snorted, a smile playing on his lips.

"I will fight in this battle, Thor," said Loki. "And for once—let me protect you."

"Your magic will be a blessing," said Thor. "If swords will stand nothing against the Infinity Gems that Thanos stole, then—"

He paused, his eyes sharpening immediately. Loki blinked, waving a hand in front of Thor's face to catch his attention again.

"You think you have an epiphany," said Loki.

"We stand as much of a chance of taking back what is ours as defeating Thanos," Thor said, his voice low with feverish anticipation. "In fact, if Thanos bides his time—if he prefers to humiliate us than destroy us—"

"Must you talk aloud when you think?" said Loki. "You might as well tell me what exactly you are thinking."

"Thanos has the Reality Gem, does he not?" said Thor. "That was how he used the Mind Gem as a gateway for his senses to spy on the mortals. He must have it with him now, even if he does not possess the entire Infinity set."

"Father said that the Gauntlet itself remains, along with Soul and Power," said Loki. "Though I don't—"

"Don't you see?" said Thor. "The Mind Gem was never meant to be used as a spy, and yet Thanos made it so with the Reality Gem. It bent the laws of what should and what could. That is how we can save you."

Loki blinked once, twice, before—"What?"

"Oh, bless the Norns," said Thor. "I may have figured something out before you."

"Yes, yes, good job for you," Loki said. "Now explain to me what you mean."

"We use the Reality Gem to save you," said Thor. "If it can do anything the possessor wishes, then it is possible. No—it is a must. It fulfills all wishes even if they are seemingly impossible. This is it Loki. This is what we can do to save you."

Loki felt his heart skip a beat. Was this elation in his heart, powdered with realistic pessimism? His hope inflating but with caution? Thor made sense—he made complete sense—but something held him back from grasping at the chance.

"You do realize that Thanos currently has the Reality Gem," said Loki, suppressing the fervent shudder of his voice. If Thor was anything, he was overly optimistic—and it was sometimes contagious. "He will not let us borrow it for the sake of my life."

"We are preparing ourselves for a war that will seek to end him, brother," said Thor. "I think him being robbed will not be so very different of a goal."

"It—" Loki hesitated, wondering if it was wise to utter these coming words. "It is possible. Yes…yes, it could work—but Thor, you mustn't get your hopes high. Thanos is powerful, Thanos is clever—we already stand a slim chance defeating him. To also take a Gem from him which he hoards so hungrily is no easier."

"Do you doubt me, Loki?" said Thor, and Loki could only marvel at how quickly Thor's mood could snap at the scent of a possible solution. "That I will do anything in my power to save you?"

"I do not doubt your heart," Loki said, and he gripped Thor's wrist, as if that was enough to protect him. "Only how far you would put yourself through for me." Loki swallowed hard. "You always were a bit too self-sacrificial for my taste."

Thor quieted, and his smile softened into something sad and thoughtful.

"I will do it again and again if I must," said Thor. "But that would mean losing my time with you. Do not worry of that, Loki. We will protect each other, and shall lose nothing."

The fields of Asgard were quiet.

Only torches that several soldiers held up every couple of meters lit the night. Behind them, the city lay bare and silent. There was no window cracked open to let out the cat, no smoke trailing out of a chimney. All the civilians and their provisions were ushered into safety within the mountains miles away. All who were left to face Thanos were the warriors with their weapons and hearts, the latter beating with anticipation that served better than any war drum.

All they could do was wait.

Sif counted her knives over and over again. Loki had promised that she needn't worry if she lost them—that he had charmed them to be unfailing—but that was what he had promised when he fashioned for her a pair of boots that forced her to tap dance in the middle of the training grounds during a spar. Surely Loki would not play a joke when everyone else's lives were at stake, when he had charmed all the warriors' weapons. Not that anything had proved to her that this was the case.

She cracked her knuckles, pacing along the gritty soil. She hated this waiting, the way it itched in her every pore and spoke with invisible tongues in her ear. To try to keep her nerves before a battle was like trying to fall asleep after hours of insomnia—no matter what, the mind will not clear, there was always an inch of skin to scratch, and the act of breathing became too deliberate.

She saw Fandral a little ways off and quickened her steps to catch up with him. The usual charming smile was absent from his face, replaced instead with that of grim anticipation. It was not becoming of him, and the fact that he did not enter this battle with a crystal laugh made Sif realize just how dire the situation was.

"How was the perimeter check?" she said.

"Nothing stirs," said Fandral. "Hogun has replaced me. One would think that Thanos would strike now, when the sun has set and he is at his prime, but I think he likes to play with our daunting wait."

"As he would," Sif said with growl. "To think he would dare to step into Asgard again. Twice already, and after his exile too."

"Frankly," said Fandral, "we gave him little reason to fear us the last time he came around."

Sif bit her tongue. She had been present in the hall when Loki was tossed to the ground as a bartering chip, only to be refused. She could not place a word on the emotions that raged within her at the site of the traitor turned captive tortured by a despicable enemy. Loki had been a prisoner at the time—a murderer, a madman, a downright horrible person—but at the sight of him bleeding and half-alive by Thanos' hand she remembered that he was the young boy who tagged along with her and Thor in their youth, that helped sneak her into Thor's training sessions, who wouldn't stop grinning for a week when he realized he had grown taller than her.

"Then he has plenty of time to learn," said Sif, tightening her grip on her sword. She nodded to his weapon. "Loki dabbed with yours as well, I presume?"

"With my armor," said Fandral. "He means to strengthen its fortitude."

"And does it?" said Sif.

Fandral chuckled wryly. "His magic hardly ever failed him before. I will trust that it will not now, though if it doesn't then I suppose I won't have the chance to accuse him anyway."

"He and Thor have changed greatly," said Sif, watching the dark sky. No stars shone. "I fear not recognizing them."

"There must be something in Midgard's water," Fandral said lightly.

"Chlorine and the dash of salt, but that's not too bad."

Sif and Fandral turned around at the interruption. Clint was standing behind them, shouldering a black, heavy bow and bearing no armor. In the sea of Asgardian warriors clad in metal, he stuck out sorely.

Clint nodded to Fandral. "Thor wants to talk to you and some guy named Volstagg. He's at the main gates of his castle."

"Volstagg is probably making his rounds about the citadel grounds," said Fandral. "I will fetch him myself. Thank you."

"No problemo," said Clint. Fandral gave a nod of farewell to Sif before making his way to the city gates. Sif was about to turn around and return to her usual post in the third line of defense when Clint's voice called out to her.

"What's your name again?" he said.

Sif stopped in her steps and turned back to him. "My name is Sif."

"Ah, right," said Clint. "Memory relapse. So do you go by Lady Sif like a lot of other women here do or…?"

"Many insist that they do, but I do not mind either way," she said. She nodded to his bow. "And you're the archer. Bartonson, are you not?"

"Just Barton. We don't do those 'son of whatever whatever' on Earth anymore," said Clint. He ran his hand down the length of his bow. "I like being called 'Clint' better, anyway."

"Even if I am not a close friend?" said Sif.

"Yeah, doesn't matter to me," said Clint.

"Where are you positioned?" she said. "I think the other archers are on higher grounds, not here."

"I got bored," said Clint. "I don't really go into formation, anyway."

"You break all the rules of battle, it seems," said Sif. "No armor, no quiver, nothing."

"Oh, none of us have quivers on our bodies," said Clint. "The archers, I mean. Loki played around with them that they automatically shoot arrows themselves. Or something like that. Anyway, it works, and if all goes wrong we have a stash up on our supposed posts."

Sif raised a dark eyebrow. "Is that what he did with all our weapons? And they truly work?"

"For the several times I used it, yeah," said Clint with a shrug. "And armor's not really my style. I'm more of a dodger."

"In Asgard, we take the blow or parry it to the best of our abilities," said Sif.

"Seems kind of like a silly thing to do if all you really needed was to take a step to the side," said Clint.

Sif huffed. "You mortals fight, but we do battle here."

"You Asgardian types can be pretty competitive, huh?" said Clint with a humored snort.

"If our honor is questioned, yes," said Sif.

"Not impugning any honor here," said Clint. He shrugged good-naturedly. "Just your common sense."

"And how many battles have you lived through?" said Sif.

"Probably nowhere near as many as you," said Clint. "Being mortal and everything. But I've made it this far and I say that's a job well done, considering we probably die a lot more easily than you and I'm still kicking."

"Yes," said Sif. "Mortals are rather fragile and fast-paced. It's a wonder how they get anything done."

"It's a wonder how you guys get anything done," said Clint. "Considering you guys have all the time in the world to just keep procrastinating 'cause you're immortal. I mean, we have airplanes and machine guns and technology that could probably pummel you guys to the dust. You guys still function like a Renaissance fair and we got out of that stage centuries ago."

"We have no need for your so-called improved technology," Sif said. "Why would we want to be anything similar to those vicious Chitauri or Kree and their metal weapons of destruction?"

"Those alien things aren't destructive because they have a gun in their hand," said Clint. "They're destructive because they pull the trigger. Unless you think you'll automatically become some crazy, violent alien machine the moment you hold one in your hand."

Sif narrowed her eyes. Clint sighed and pulled out a strange dark object from the holster at his belt. He tossed it up and down casually in his left hand.

"See this?" said Clint.

"What is that?" said Sif.

"A gun."

Sif stiffened at the sight of it. Now that she knew what it was, it all of a sudden became all the more vile, dangerous, and barbaric. But when she looked up into Clint's face, he had the look of casual calmness with a hint of amusement in his eyes.

"Am I any closer to a Chitauri?" he said as he pocketed the gun.

"It doesn't make it any less of a horrid weapon," said Sif.

"It's like any archer's bow and arrow, except faster," said Clint. "I don't see you hating on those. Though," he said with an afterthought, "maybe they aren't any better either."

Sif crossed her arms. "What makes you say that?"

"Because either way they kill people," said Clint. "And that's not really a good thing."

Sif pursed her lips and looked out to the emptied town. "Not a good thing at all."

They were silent together for a moment, before she spoke again.

"Where are the rest of your companions?" she said.

"Tony and Cap are near the front of the line," said Clint. "Nat's patrolling the corners, in case some spy tries to sneak in before the rest of them. Bruce is going to help out with the medics until the Other Guy can't help himself. Thor and Loki were fighting and then making up last time I checked. And then there's me."

"Thor and Loki?" said Sif.

Clint shifted his weight from one foot to the other guiltily, like a child caught sneaking a bite of a forbidden sugar loaf. "Yeah…well, for a half deaf person like me, I seem to be able to catch a lot."

"They were fighting?" said Sif. She shouldn't expect anything less from brothers, especially a pair as stubborn as the Odinsons.

"I swear I didn't just stand there and listen," said Clint. "It's just that I was walking down the corridor because I forgot my gloves and I heard their raised voices and I was like, 'Oh shit not again' so I—"

"You don't have to be embarrassed about that," Sif said with a wry smile. "When those two fight, everyone within the castle can hear. It's a rare occurrence, granted, but not a secret one when it actually happens."

"Oh," said Clint with a relieved sigh. "Okay. I wasn't sure if in Asgard it would be some great insult to accidentally eavesdrop or something. I mean, no offense, but you Viking types get insulted really easily."

"Hmph," said Sif, turning away coldly.

"Wait—what?" said Clint. "No, no, no, I meant it when I said 'no offense.' I didn't mean to slur you or anything at all, I swear!"

Sif couldn't hold back her laughter and she shook her head, her grin wide and bright.

"I only jest," she said. "But it is true. Flyting is a common activity, and many a case in the All-Father's courts have something to do with verbal blows."

"Crazy," said Clint. "And I thought the States and their insane obsession with political correctness was outrageous."

"It is a quality of culture, that I cannot deny," said Sif. "Difficult to grow out of it after several millennia, though." She studied Clint in the amber haze of the torches. "Thor had told me of you before, you know."

"What?" said Clint. "When?"

"When he first returned from Midgard after Loki tried to invade it," said Sif.

"Really?" said Clint. "I didn't even know Thor knew my name at the time. Well, I guess we all had a chat over shawarma later, but I wasn't particularly close to him yet."

"I know," said Sif. "He told me how Loki had possessed you."

"Oh," said Clint. "Right."

Sif searched his face for any disgruntled line or shadow of resentment. To her surprise, there were none; only the weariness of a long memory.

"It wasn't really possession," Clint said. "Just a—a switch."

"A switch?" said Sif.

"I don't know what's going on with that crazy scepter Loki had," said Clint. "It—I mean, my mind felt undone afterward, when I snapped out of it. It felt like it was pieced together differently, and then forced back. But it wasn't possession because I know I was doing exactly what I would have done if I was still working with SHIELD instead of against them. I would have shot at my enemy, I would have tried to protect my boss. I would have tried killing—tried killing Nat if she wasn't my friend. That was all my decision, not Loki feeding me orders and me blindly following them with an empty mind."

He sighed heavily. "I guess to others it doesn't make a difference, but it does to me. I'm not as guiltless as they tell me I am. I'm not. It doesn't matter whose side I'm on. I kill a lot of people. And that…well, that sucks."

Sif lowered her head. It was true; Thor had told her how Clint had been mindless—thoughtless—during his possession and that Loki had controlled him. But who knew better than the one who was the victim—or the criminal? He who would have every right and understanding to deny responsibility claimed it instead.

"I had wondered why you did not seem to hate Loki when you all first arrived," said Sif. "If you don't mind me saying, you seem to be angrier at yourself."

"I am," said Clint. "It's been three years and I should get over it, but I'm not. For the past while I kept requesting jobs from SHIELD that didn't put me out in the field because I couldn't handle it anymore. I didn't like the risk that I would have to kill someone again. I mean," he gave a dark chuckle. "I do it when I have to, and I definitely did not have a clean slate these past several years. And apparently I have no qualms killing aliens, which is sort of hypocritical of me. I don't know how to handle myself."

He shook his head, an ironic smile on his lips. "Thanks for making you play Doctor Phil on me. It's just…I don't know. I'm afraid to talk about it, and sort of ashamed too, and I guess when faced with imminent doom I just had to let it out somewhere."

Sif did not know why humans would ever want to play this 'dokterfil' game if it caused so much pain. She placed a hand on his shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze.

"I'm just not in a very good headspace right now, I guess," said Clint.

"There is nothing wrong about it," said Sif. "Until it consumes you."

"I try not to let it," said Clint. "It's just the whole situation. We're about to go to war with a crazy guy, my best friend's in love with my ex-enemy, and I just really wish I could lie down and let this all pass without me even noticing it."

"Best friend in love with your enemy?" said Sif.

Clint must not have realized he said that because the look on his face was a mixture of horror and embarrassment.

"I…yeah," said Clint. "I shouldn't spread rumors or anything, but it's not a rumor if it's true, right?" He ran a hand through his hair. "Man, I feel like a teenage girl. Or a drunkard, because I can't keep my mouth shut right now with you. Really sorry."

"Don't be," said Sif. "I like it when people speak with me. It means they are comfortable with me, to some extent." She had few friends among the ladies in the court, and the Warriors Three, while they trusted her with their lives, didn't necessarily think of trusting her with their secrets or thoughts. She was a true companion, but for the sake of happiness and contentment and not comfort. To have this Clint speak to her as if she was more than just another passing friendly colleague made her feel noticed.

"So yeah," said Clint. "Nat's my closest friend and she's in love with—with Loki. Don't tell anyone. But it's true. And I was in love with her for the longest time. I know that it wouldn't work out long before I realized she liked Loki, and I thought I accepted that already and moved on. But just realizing that she cares for someone else and that person isn't me—I mean, I know I should move on and be happy for her and be all right, but for some reason I'm still…not happy. I might even be jealous, even though if I am honest with myself, I know that things just wouldn't truly work out with the both of us. But it's painful."

"I wish I could depart with you a word of comfort," Sif said, her voice soft. "But I think I'm in the same predicament myself, and have no wisdom."

Clint gazed at her curiously and she gave him a dry smile.

"I've been in love with a man for a good deal of time," she said, "only for him to fall for another. And as much as I would like to be happy for him, I can only wish I was the one making him happy. So I suppose the both of us aren't in a friendly predicament."

"Who?" said Clint.

Sif's eyes flashed. "Now, I've only just met you. Why should I tell you?"

"Because we're all about to go into war and who knows what'll happen next?" said Clint. "Might as well say, 'to hell with it' and let everything fall off your shoulders."

Sif snorted. "Perhaps this is why you mortals are more honest. You've little time to lie."

"Damn straight," said Clint.

Sif exhaled deeply, fixing her eyes on a dying torch.

"It was Thor," she said.

"Ouch," he said. "For how long did you like him?"

"Probably ten times your age," said Sif. "Which makes the ironic blow even sourer. He'll love a mortal in a mere fraction of that time, and she'll live a life no longer than that. And it isn't like I can meet new people often to—for a lack of better words—broaden my horizon, when everyone lives so long that I've met them all already."

"Of all the guys in the world," said Clint.

"Of all the ladies in your world," she retorted.

Clint chuckled in spite of himself. "Aren't we a lucky bunch?"

"Aren't we," Sif said with an ironic smile. "It feels like everyone around me somehow fall in love with one another, and yet I'm here apparently doing something wrong."

"You can't get mutual attraction right. Unless there's some mathematical formula, it's pretty much a hit or miss," said Clint.

"Hit or miss," said Sif. "Like an impossible archery match. One person has to shoot one arrow and another as well, and somehow the points are aimed perfectly at each other and perfectly meet, even if one small twitch could send the arrow flying who knows where and miss its mark completely."

"The sad thing is I'm pretty sure I can hit another arrow head-on more easily," said Clint. His lips quirked into a half-smile. "Hey. Don't beat yourself up over this. So one guy didn't have those feelings for you. Doesn't mean everyone won't ever have feelings for you. And you've got all the time in the world to find him."

"I don't like to think I'm so concerned about it," said Sif. "It's like I'm some sniveling maiden who has nothing else to think about except for true love or something just as fantastical."

"So what?" said Clint. "Everyone does it. It's a pain in the ass, sometimes, but if nearly everyone in existence wants it some way or another, it must be worth it. Besides," he snorted, "when given the choice to worry about nonexistent relationships or a coming war, I guess the two aren't so different."

Sif couldn't help but laugh. "You strangely wise in your short years."

"How old are you?" said Clint.

"Perhaps two millennia, or close to it," said Sif. "We hardly count ages here in Asgard."

Clint gave a low whistle. "Looking good."

Sif wasn't sure whether to be amused or perplexed. She shook her head, a smile uncontainable on her lips.

"Sif."

She spun around at the sound of her name, finding herself face-to-face with Loki. She nearly took a step back, wondering how was it that he so easily snuck up behind her. Clint nodded in acknowledgement at him and Loki returned the gesture.

"Agent Barton," he said. "I'll have you know, Thor and Stark want to speak with all of us in about half an hour."

"Like, some Ra Ra sort of speech?" said Clint.

"No," said Loki. "That'll come earlier. Only for the Avengers."

"Right," said Clint. "I'll remember that."

Sif couldn't help but avert her gaze anywhere but toward Loki; in all retrospect, they had just been talking about him behind his back, though for once not cruelly.

"Also," said Loki. "The other archers on our post would like to speak to you. Our head of the guard will be responsible for your division, but he may use terms that you are unfamiliar to."

"Oh, okay," said Clint, shouldering his bow. "Uh, where will Thor want to talk to us and everything?"

"Thor will make a statement to all the warriors before sunrise," said Loki. "He'll probably be at the highest point of the city, which is to say the tower at the citadel. So, most likely right afterward."

"Citadel tower. Got it," said Clint. "I'll see you then." Without another word he darted off toward where the other archers situated themselves along the walls, leaving Sif and Loki at his wake. Sif looked over Loki; he wore simpler armor than royalty usually bore, not unlike the one he last wore to Jotunheim years back, and he seemed to have foregone the helmet completely. She saw how pale he was and she clucked her tongue.

"Not even your favorite cloak?" said Sif. "You really are keeping it modest."

Loki rolled his eyes. "It'll be harder to run with a cloak billowing behind me."

"Not going to run away from battle, are you?" said Sif.

Loki shot her a sharp look. "I'll be doing a lot of chasing."

"Right," Sif said. She couldn't help but smirk. "So, if you're taking messages from Thor, I take it you two aren't fighting anymore?"

"I beg your pardon?" Loki said.

"I heard you two had a bit of a row," said Sif.

"Gossipy servants, I wonder?" said Loki, narrowing his eyes. "Though all those who do not fight or heal were ushered to safety." He shook his head. "For your information, there was nothing wrong between Thor and me. We only had a brief…disagreement."

"When do you never?" said Sif. "Of what?"

"Nosing in rather deep, aren't you?" said Loki.

"Oh, I doubt you two can surprise me," said Sif. "I've seen you two fight over everything, from what path to take through the mountains to what color silk to give your mother. There's hardly anything in between that I've yet to witness."

"Hm," said Loki, readjusting his gloves. His eyes sharpened. "He was growing too concerned of me. I shook it off."

"Too concerned?" said Sif. "Well, that's hardly a surprise."

"What?"

"That he's so overprotective of you," said Sif. "I thought you would at least be used to it by now."

"Used to it?" said Loki. "All our time growing up together he left me on my own two feet to fend off whatever beasts or shadows I faced. Then all of a sudden he thinks I'm as delicate as glass and more precious. It's ridiculous."

"Are you making a jest?" said Sif. "He always valued you greatly."

"Now, let's not continue this motif of comparing me and metal," said Loki. "He barely thought of me when we were in our adolescents and older. It wasn't until he found out I had the Tesseract that he began to worry."

Sif shot him a look of incredulity. "Are you absolutely blind?"

Loki's eyebrows shot up his forehead. "I'm sorry?"

"He is not as uncaring as you once thought he was, Loki Odinson," said Sif. "Whatever dark thoughts were in your head when you took your father's throne—"

"Being king had little to do with anything," Loki said.

"Either way," said Sif. "Whatever you thought about your family, whatever you believed that led to belittling yourself, was an awful lie. Why would you doubt Thor's love for you?"

"I don't doubt it now," said Loki. "Trust me. He's shown me more than I could even understand time and time again." He shook his head, running a hand across his pale forehead. "Only, it is a waste of mind."

"Waste of a mind," said Sif. "You would never tell him that if you knew how he mourned for you after you fell from the Bifröst."

Loki turned to her, quizzical.

"He dreamed of you. You haunted him—his memories of you haunted him," said Sif. "He would barely eat, never sleep, never found any joy in anything he once did. And once—when he was down with a fever—he saw you."

"I was nowhere near Asgard," said Loki.

"Obviously not," Sif said. "In his mind—fevered hallucinations, he saw you."

She saw the shock in Loki's eyes and could only remember the pain in her heart when Thor, red and burning with fever, would cry out for his brother only to remember once his fit passed that Loki was lost and gone, and no amount of pride or control could keep away the tears. She had been there for him, wrestling her way past the healers' guard, to hold his hand when he shivered from fever and as Loki haunted him underneath his eyelids like phantom faces, reduced to only myths.

"I remember," she said, her voice soft. "He had first seen you happy, peaceful, as if everything was all right again, and he would speak to you as if you were sitting at his bedside making your little quips as usual. And he was so—so happy. I was there. I sat in the corner, too shocked to tell him he spoke to nothing, and when he finally came to he was so heartbroken."

Loki wouldn't look at Sif, his eyes downcast as he listened. She wished he could understand—that he would have been there and witnessed how broken Thor's heart was, because in Thor's mind, he was the one at fault—he was the one who could not save his brother, could not spare that one loving word when he felt it all along, could not grab onto his wrist before the plummet.

"And later—he kept hallucinating of you, but this time, they were terrible images," said Sif. "He saw you angry, yelling at him, blaming him for your death and despair. Sometimes he saw you dying in front of him, and he would try to save you except he was weak and you weren't there. He saw you in pain and he would be driven mad with grief because he couldn't help you—and you weren't truly there. You idiot prince, don't you see why he's so protective over you? Losing you had always been his worst nightmare, and then once it actually happened—he will not lose you a second time. He will not bear to have you hurting another time."

Loki closed his eyes. Sif sighed heavily, the words poured out of her and leaving her feeling light and almost hollow. Death was always a fear to her—not her own death, but the death of her loved ones and companions. Because while life will last almost forever for an Asgardian like her, so would grief.

"I see," Loki said.

Was that all he had to say? But she knew that he would not utter any more. He always buried his thoughts so deep that they turned into stubborn, unrepentant stone.

"Thank you, Sif," said Loki. "For caring for Thor while I was...away."

"You really are an idiot prince," said Sif. She cast her eyes to the sky as it gradually paled. The new day was coming, and it brought bloodshed with it. She placed her hand on the hilt of her sword, knowing too well that it would be a long, long time until she would let go of it.

"Come now," said Sif. "Shouldn't you be making some words of encouragement to our men and women with your brother?"

"He is the crown prince, not I," said Loki.

"What difference does it make?" said Sif. "If words can strike strength and determination in our warriors' hearts, does it make a difference if they come from the mouth of a king or the mouth of a beggar?"

"Are you calling me a beggar, Lady Sif?" said Loki.

Sif punched Loki in the arm. Loki laughed and brushed her off.

"I will stand by his side," said Loki. He bowed to her. "If I do not have a chance to say it again, Lady Sif—fight bravely, and be safe."

"Oh no," said Sif. "You will not get rid of me so easily."

Loki smiled, straightening.

"Then let us hope that the Norns will do the same for me as well," he said.

The dawn was cold, and Loki found himself shivering.

He was never one to shiver. He was Frost Giant, for goodness' sake. In the cold hunting nights when even Thor caved in and bundled in fur, Loki found that a heavy cloak was sufficient. But tonight—this morning—his body failed him as he trembled in the spot from the chill. He was thankful that his armor composed of mostly leather than metal so that it would not clank and clatter as he shuddered.

"The sun rises, brother," he said. The pale, sickly sun was pulling itself up over the horizon, and Loki knew inside that Thanos was not far. Heimdall had said that Thanos was only several leagues away nearly three hours ago, and that Jotunheim was already fending off the the Kree's attack, with Alfheim defending itself from the Chitauri at the same time. Asgard was next, and Asgard would suffer.

"So it does," Thor said, his voice grave.

"Where is Father?" said Loki.

"He puts himself in the front of the line with our bravest warriors to lead them," said Thor. He pulled on his winged helmet, his face drawn and determined. "It is up to us to encourage our people's hearts."

"They would not want my counsel," said Loki.

"You are Silvertongue, Loki," said Thor.

"That is never meant as a compliment," said Loki.

"You use your words so artistically," said Thor. "I know you can use them for this moment."

Loki swallowed hard. Thor nodded to the herald just below them. The herald placed a bugle at his lips and blew hard, a deep note resonating through the streets to catch Asgard's attention. All eyes that could see turned toward their crown prince above them, in the gleaming armor and noble stature that they needed from a king. Loki couldn't help but feel a rush of pride as Asgard looked upon his older brother with not only loyalty, but trust.

It was silent, and not even the wind stirred to interrupt. Thor swallowed hard once, twice—nervous but unfamiliar of how to show it. Despite whatever anxiety was in him, he raised his chin and spoke strongly and boldly, competing with any war drum or war cry that could stir the spirits of many.

"Sons and daughters of Asgard," he said. "Today, we will face struggles. We will face pain and fear and uncertainty. There will be blood—and there will be loss. But of all things, there will not be defeat. Whatever Thanos and his armies will throw at us, we—Asgard—and all the nine Realms will stand their ground, keep their wills and their strength, and fight back. Asgard will rise from the ashes of war, and she shall see another sunrise. She shall see her people thrive!"

"Hail, Asgard!" someone shouted, and many joined the chant with feverish cries and the need to be confident—the need to know that no matter if they stood or fall, Asgard would live and their loved ones would win.

"And you, Loki," Thor said, lowering his voice.

"Do not let me steal your thunder," said Loki.

"Come, brother," said Thor. "We are equals. Asgard should hear your voice as much as it hears mine."

He nudged Loki forward and Loki swallowed hard. He realized that everyone was staring at him, watching him, waiting with bated breath for what the king of lies would have to say. How could they ever depend on him emotionally, when he once found it impossible himself?

But Asgard was his home, and these were truly his people, regardless of whether his skin was icy blue or the same as theirs. For once, he would give them a word of truth—a word of life. And for once, they will listen.

"People of Asgard," Loki said. "Do not fight for your king or queen or your princes. Do not fight for Valhalla, do not fight for glory."

His heart beat heavily, but he spoke what he needed to say. What his people needed to know.

"You will find yourself in times where you will be asked to shed your blood, to make choices that you never want to be faced with, to show a mercy you never knew was right, to give up what you hold most dear. So do not test your mettle for the sake of the crown. Fight for your home. For your families and friends, for your loved one, for your childhoods and your futures. You, standing here, waiting for death to come—that is greater bravery than any duel or competition or anything that was done for the Valkyries favor."

He felt his cheeks burn and he stepped back quickly, slightly breathless. Asgard laid quiet at first, and he couldn't help but hold his breath. His hand instinctively reached out for Thor's, holding it tight; he realized that somehow, unexpectedly, he was afraid, but Thor gave him strength.

"For the Nine Realms," said Thor.

Loki bowed his head. "For all our homes."

And then, it came.

The cry of the people was overwhelming, and Loki knew that no thunder that Thor ever conjured would ever compare with it. People raised their weapons until a sea of glinting metal streamed through Asgard's land. It stole Loki's breath away as his people cheered for them, for each other, for their home, for their young princes, for the mortals that stood at their side.

Loki took in a gasp of air, his head spinning at the defining moment. And Thor squeezed his hand to reassure him. In that moment, Loki knew the promise he would make—by his life or death, if he could protect the lives of everyone that fought with them, he would. He knew not how or when, but he knew.

The moan of war horns erupted amongst the crowd, and the people stilled immediately. A dark shadow clouded the sky that was too fast and ominous to be a storm. Loki clenched his teeth at the sight of it, knowing what the watchful eyes have seen far too well.

"Thanos comes," he said.

Thor gritted his teeth, gripping the handle of his hammer.

"Prepare for battle!" he said. "Hold fast to your ground, and do not lose heart."

He turned swiftly to Loki.

"Come, brother," he said. "I must inform the Avengers."

"Inform them what?" said Loki, but Thor was already tugging him down the steps of the citadel tower.

The other Avengers were gathered at the foot of the tower, ready to listen to what Thor needed to tell them just before departing to their respective positions. Tony's mask was lifted up and Bruce was armed with every bandage, healing stone, and salve that Asgard could offer as a running medic. Loki's eyes landed on Natasha and he placed a hand on her back. She gave him a sharp nod and turned to Thor.

"My friends," said Thor. Already he had to raise his voice as the armies around them readied for battle and the sound of Thanos' arrival strengthened. "My friends—I ask this of you. Should you come by Thanos, should you come by the Reality Gem—bring it to me. As soon as you can. This is what I ask of you."

"Do not put yourselves on the line for it," Loki said immediately. He couldn't help but feel his neck burn when he realized that this was what Thor had to say when he called for the Avengers. "Whatever you do, don't you dare risk your lives to do it. If you do, I will skin you."

"This is important, isn't it?" said Steve. "If you have the Reality Gem."

"Please, only keep your eye open for it," said Loki before Thor could say another word.

Clint's lips twitched into a smile.

"Well, you did tell us not to risk our lives for the sake of our princes," he said. "But where we're from, we don't have any princes, and we still don't have any here. We only have friends, and that's not forbidden."

Loki opened his mouth, then closed it. He could only put a hand on Clint's shoulder and grip it tight; Clint too grasped Loki's shoulder and gave it a gentle shake.

"Has this got to do with the Mind Gem in you?" said Bruce. "The Reality Gem was used to manipulate the Mind Gem in you beyond its abilities—will it be able to take it out of you?"

"Perhaps," Loki said.

"Then we sure as hell need to get that thing," said Bruce.

A loud crash interrupted them, making them all jump in their places. Fire streaked the sky, barely missing the crowds of Asgard's armies in the field. Thanos was already making his move.

"We must get our people to prepare the catapults, and the sorcerers to ready their attacks," said Thor. "We should get into our positions soon."

"Wait a second there, Point Break," said Tony, holding Thor back before Thor could depart. "Don't leave. Not yet."

Another loud crash and yelling shook them, and the air felt hot with flashing metal and fire. Loki's heart beat wildly in his chest, and he forced himself not to look toward the horizon where he knew Thanos would be—the large shadow that struck fear in his every being.

He felt Natasha underneath his hand and he took a breath—No, there was nothing to be afraid of. Not with them here. Not with the ones he loved.

"This is it, guys," said Tony. He spoke fast, as if afraid that the battle would cut him short too soon. "This is it—we knew we would face this from day one, ever since we found Loki and Thor in that forest, and I don't regret anything about it. We're in this together, and we'll get out of this together."

Another rush of heat and sound, and Loki's nerves itched to defend his home. He heard the war cries of the Chitauri, the whirring of their engines and their weapons, and battle was upon them—Thanos not far behind.

"Everyone listen to me," Tony said, raising his voice. He threw his arms around the two nearest people's shoulders—Natasha and Bruce—until he drew the whole gang close. "Listen to me. Every face I see right now, right here, looking at me, I will see every single one of these faces again after this, and they're all going to be smiling back at me. This will happen. No exceptions, no buts, no rain checks. This is not an order, this is not a promise—it's a fact. We will win. Together."

"Okay," Natasha said, her voice breathless. "Okay."

Bruce gripped Tony's forearm reassuringly. Steve made a silent prayer for them all. Loki watched them, and all this gave him strength—gave him heart.

"Let's do this," Tony said.

With that, he broke from the crowd, flipped on his face mask, and darted toward his position. Steve puled on his uniform's hood and followed Tony promptly. Clint gave everyone left behind a short nod before heading to the archers' nest. Before Natasha or Bruce could depart, a loud and bone-chilling voice rang through the heavy air—a voice so familiar that Loki felt his blood run cold.

"Asgardians," said Thanos, his voice so powerful and troubling that it lingered in every ear, even from so many leagues away. "You have armored and readied yourself to die."

But when Thor spoke, in a voice no quieter or weaker than Thanos', Loki found himself unafraid.

"Save your breath to attempt to delay your last, Thanos," Thor said, his voice carrying over every direction as a god should.

Loki could not truly see Thanos from where he was, but he imagined the war titan leering.

"Obstinate and unwilling," said Thanos. "Yes, yes…Lady Death will be most pleased with you and your people sent to her black realms."

Thanos' army was drawing nearer—the archers could reach them with their arrows from here. The ground shook with anticipation and apprehension. The people shook with it. War drew closer, and so did Thanos' Lady Death.

"Have heart, children of Asgard," Thor said, "and we will not fall."

He thrust Mjölnir into the air; the clouds spun before him, sparkling with powerful lightning. The wind began to pick up, and Loki took in a deep breath.

"For our homes," Loki whispered.

And with that last war cry, Asgard and Thanos battled.