At least, Loki thought himself dead. He should have been dead. Why wasn't he dead?

He kept his eyes shut and his breath shallow. He tried to take in as much of his surroundings as he could. It was dark. Very dark. There was no breeze. The ground under his face was made of sharp and porous rock. The air smelled faintly of rotting flesh. Things clicked in the distance. Nothing drew close to him, at least. Loki allowed himself to open one eye. He was not bloody, not battered, not even a little scuffed. He still did not move. He felt very cold. How many hours had he been laying here? How many days? Why was he alive? When he fell through the edge of the atmosphere he should have imploded on himself. He should be a blob of unidentifiable bits floating on through the endless branches. He tried to remember the events of the night.

The Destroyer.

"You can't kill an entire race!"

The Bifrost.

"No, Loki."

Loki's stomach lurched; he would have heaved if it did not threaten his safety.

And then they found him.

Loki was surprised that they snuck up on him so. He pulled himself up, glared defiantly. They were soldiers, the expendables of their race. He had nothing to fear. Nothing at all. They clicked and chattered and pointed their weapons at him. Loki eyed the design. He had seen this before. Somewhere on Midgard, with the madmen.

"I see you failed in taking over Midgard," he tried.

They reared as if slapped. So they understood him.

"I am Loki of Asgard, and I demand to speak with your leader."

The grotesque beings seemed to laugh, but Loki wasn't quite sure. They could have been crying, or insulting him. But they gathered around, prodding him in the upward direction. Loki soon learned his fall was broken by an unforgiving asteroid that housed an unforgiving race. They called themselves the Chitauri. They were shapeshifters. They existed to destroy. The raven haired prince began to see there was no outcome where he would not be at least slightly tortured by these repulsive thugs. They introduced him to The Other. Loki found it incredibly hard to refrain from mockery. The Other was just as ugly as the beasts he led, and more vicious. Loki bit his tongue, taking only so much of the verbal abuse. Finally, he snapped.

"I was a King! I was succeeded by a criminal, an arrogant warrior!"

The Other found amusement in Loki's anger. He relayed this information to his own master. In the meantime, the Chitauri strung him up to the face of a sharp cliff: a theatre cut from the asteroid for demonstrations such as these. They only nicked his cheek, drew blood that striped his pale complexion. When The Other announced that his master had "no use for a sniveling whelp", things fell out of Loki's favor. The Chitauri flogged the clothes from his chest. They bored holes through his skin and let scaly worms into his body. They lit his fingernails on fire. They pulled the hairs from his scalp by the handful.

Loki refused to scream. He instead shouted promises. "I will help you take over Midgard! I will help you lay waste to your enemies! I will help you hunt down whatever it is that you seek!" But they did not listen, nor did he expect them to. To their ears, Loki begged for release. He only sought to find what they were after. Surely they did not live on this rock because they found it comfortable.

They made him swallow hot coals. They pried open his old bilgesnipe scar.

Still Loki refused to scream.

It wasn't until they muzzled him that he started to fear for his life. They cut open his chest with delicate precision. They brought forth a scepter. Loki blanched.

He tried desperately hard to talk around the muzzle. Thin spikes cut into his lips like an iron maiden. His ribcage was exposed. His heart beat wildly in the clammy air. If he touched that staff, he would be lost forever. He could not overpower it like the Aesir warrior from the tales of old. He would become– he w–

They shoved the scepter's blade edge into his lungs. Loki was suddenly submerged in blackness like ink in water. Dull waves crashed in his ears, over his senses. He was drowning. The blood bubbled in his muzzle, seeped through the cracks. They shoved the scepter in deeper until the cursed gem touched his heart. Everything stopped inside of him. If it was dark before, his entire being was absorbed by the silence, the coldness.

'I know what lies in your heart.'

Siv stood before him, tattered and hollow. Her voice was distorted. Her body twisted in weird, impossible, unnatural angles. Those eyes glowed so bright they looked sickly.

'I know what vengeance you seek. I know what evils you have committed. I know what you want more than anything. You demand attention, fame, revenge on the ones who lied to the God of Lies. You want to be the king of everything. You want your bastard father to bow to you.'

For some reason, he could not deny any of it. He felt like it was wrong. That her words were deceptions. But they seemed comforting and truthful on her abrasive tongue.

'Don't let them use you. You are not meant to be used, you are meant to be a king. Lead them to Earth. They seek the Tesseract. They seek my useless twin. They only have me. You have her. You know her. We can destroy everything together. Build the universe from the ground up in your likeness. Everyone will grovel at your feet, praise you, celebrate you, worship you. Give them my sister. Give them the cube.'

The Chitauri left Loki to scream against the rock. The staff jutted out of his chest like an arrow. He writhed, contorted as he tried to eject the evil from his heart. He never would. No amount of blood he pumped out could wash the scepter from his body. The darkness took over. The Chitauri went along to their duties. All that was left was to sit and wait. Either this trespasser would die, or be contaminated with enough evil for the masters to control. The Other watched Loki curiously from Thanos' side.

Thanos looked on with pleasure.

҉

"Please, just give me a minute of your time, forty five seconds, that's all I need."

"Look, kid, I really, really don't care what you have to say. And stop – stop putting that thing in my face, god manila folders make me nauseous. This is the 21st century, we have touch screens."

"Excuse me for not being a billionaire like you, Stark, I have other things –"

"Whoa, hey, that's Mr. Stark to you. We are not on any name basis. Got that? Hey, I said get that out of my face. If I give you a tablet for free will you go away?"

"That is a very tempting offer but no, not unless it would make you more willing to pay attention."

"I would be opposed to looking at your 'research' no matter how you present it. I'm not exactly up for helping some religion-hating pessimist make baking soda volcanoes in my basement. Find someone else to endorse you."

"I'm not looking for an endorsement, I want to talk to you about something you already have a hand – a chest in."

"Look. I understand. You're a fan. I get it. But sweetie, here's the thing: I'm not interested. I don't want to partner up. I don't want to have a tea party. I don't want you stealing my thunder. This baby generates me and my home, not missiles that strike things out of the sky."

"You used to strike everything else out of the sky –"

"Oh, would you look at that, sixty seconds are up and I am still not convinced. Go get some fries and a milkshake, kid, you need a smile. Toodaloo."

"Stark – Mr. Stark!"

"Nope, bye!"

Teagan Hill rubbed her forehead in annoyance. She wished this was not a common reaction.

"Don't take it so hard," a woman said.

Teagan turned on her heel. "Ms. Potts," she said, lightening up a bit. "Will you give this to him?"

Pepper Potts laughed, taking the folder. "Wow, you really don't beat around the bush, do you?"

"Not really, no," Teagan agreed.

Pepper opened her mouth to speak as she flipped through the thick file. She seemed to change her mind, and then, "Tell me about yourself."

Teagan thought for a minute, searching the ceiling as if it would tell her what to say. This felt familiar. "If I did the whole speech, would you listen?"

Pepper bit her lip, debating on the consequences.

҉

"How goes it?" Coulson asked, ducking his head into the lab. Teagan worked alone, poring over countless documents that floated around her. She may not have owned any of this fancy technology, but she was more than knowledgeable on how to use it. (Thanks to Agent Coulson.) He looked at his coffee mug and held it out to her. She likely needed it more than he did.

Teagan accepted the last of his drink without even offering him a greeting or a kind eye. She mouthed parts of words, equations, curses, questions. She was rather pleased with herself; she had not intended to convince Pepper Potts to "lend" her this data. Coulson would have offered said data if she had thought to ask him. Orbs, a cube, a model of Tony's current arc reactor were front and center before her. Again and again, she kept coming back to one atom in particular. Coulson leaned against a desk, waiting for her to explain.

"This atom, this particle, it's an element that's not yet been discovered in this solar system. And by the looks of it, Mr. Stark managed to recreate it in his own lab in just a few hours. It's what keeps him going. When he replaced the palladium for something a little less fatal. I haven't finished reading but it has a lot to do with his father's Expo. Howard Stark must have discovered it ages ago. Did you know about this?"

Coulson said nothing, only shrugged.

Teagan searched for the right words. "I'm going on nothing but a very unlikely hypothesis. It's in no way, shape, or form a definitive idea. A passing fancy, if you will. But this element Stark Jr. recreated? I think it's the key you're looking for. For sustainable energy. That little Star Trek insignia in his chest powers his terrible drinking habits and a frequently used metal suit as if both were immune to the laws of energy. Rebuild that on a large scale and the untested possibilities are endless. But like I said: this is a recreation of something. If you can find whatever the original was, whatever Howard Stark found or made. . . It's either a terribly done prototype or something much greater than the human race has yet to see."

Coulson sat up a bit straighter, interest piqued.

"There's still a lot I need to work out about it. I need to test these equations, I need to prove the proof. I have all the data. I just need time." Teagan pulled at her ponytail and muttered something under her breath.

"You know," Coulson started, "I gave you this position so you would give us answers, not ask questions."

"Can't have one without the other," Teagan smiled. She looked over to him.

Coulson smiled back. "I'm glad you've become comfortable with your work." Teagan started writing down a few notes for herself. Coulson drummed his fingers against the top of his opposite hand. "So do you feel accomplished finishing your second Bachelor's?"

Teagan paused. Accomplishment was not an expression she would have applied to that rather useless degree. Everyone in the S.H.I.E.L.D. labs had at least one four year. Even the assistant grunts. "You made it clear it was necessary to have if I was to continue working for you," she answered.

"Will you consider continuing?"

"Is that an order?"

Coulson quirked a grin. "Maria is the soldier, not you."

Teagan briefly mirrored that grin.

"If I have to enforce it, I will. You really ought to find a career path. As long as you're giving us something to work with, you'll have a job at S.H.I.E.L.D.; to have another degree is just a safety precaution."

She was grateful to him. She really was. But spending another minute in some dull place with dull courses and even duller professors made her skin crawl. She was only valedictorian in her high school years to prove wrong a bet she had made with her deceased friend. Coulson was like a stand-in father figure. He was a good friend, a good man. Tricky, but a good man.

She took too long to answer; Coulson stood and headed for the door. "Twenty bucks says you can't make it into Culver," he shrugged.

Teagan halted. "Don't tempt me," she murmured.

Coulson left.

A few days later, Fury sent out an undercover search team to scour Howard Stark's every secret hole for the whereabouts of this mysterious element. No one knew what it looked like, how heavy it was, how large it was. Their only lead was that it glowed like Tony's chest. Unfortunately for those S.H.I.E.L.D. agents, many things in the deceased Stark's repertoire glowed like Tony's chest. They brought them all back to Teagan. She commandeered Project P.E.G.A.S.U.S. under supervision of the director.

҉

Heimdall stood at the edge of the bridge. He lost all of his work. His entire collection of strange and important things. His home. The observatory sat in a crumpled heap at the bottom of the sea. He probably could have recovered some of it if he really wanted to search the sea floor. The waves were unforgiving, though, and Heimdall saw no reason to trouble himself with the icy waters. He remembered his library of prophecies, of historical accounts. He doubted he could recall all of it at once to compile again. He remembered the quirky bioluminous blobs that floated around his dwelling. They were rare creatures from Niflheim, some of the last in the universe. They lived for eons on nothing but water and nutrients they sucked from the moist sea air.

But the overseer found it rude of himself to mourn those creatures when the kingdom mourned for the loss of their raven haired prince. Truthfully, most grieved because it was the polite thing to do. There was talk that Loki had committed treason. Loki led the Frost Giants into Asgard in attempt to murder his family. Loki sent the Destroyer to wipe out the human race with Thor still banished there. That all these years Loki was really an imposter in the royal court, and had long been disposed of. It was all chatter, really. The civilians did not care what became of anything as long as their lands were safe.

Heimdall returned to his Queen that night with no news of Loki's demise. The royal family continued to hope that he lived somewhere in the cosmos. Perhaps Loki sought solitude now, found it more agreeable for them to think him dead. That his "death" would ease their suffering. That he banished himself from the Realm Eternal for the sake of face. Frigga mourned more loudly than anyone, Thor more deeply, Odin more regretfully. But they all had more pressing matters at hand. Laufey was dead and Jotunheim completely destroyed. Odin's search party returned the news with nothing but death. Oracles around the nine realms came to the All-father with news of destruction, of old prophecies, of imminent death.

All this, and the time of the Convergence was soon upon them.

If Loki was dead, they could not keep hoping for his return. If he was alive, his spectacle warranted immediate displeasure from the entire kingdom. Mourning for the loss of life was a rare and sacred act. It was not to be taken lightly. Odin wept for him. If Loki was not truly dead, he would have no kind words to greet his son's dramatics.

Perhaps Loki would have found Odin's stubbornness angering and amusing. He still thought of the raven haired prince as his son, yet still had the gall to act so arrogantly.

From across the nine realms, Heimdall heard it suddenly. He stood, upsetting his chair. The cry was faint, very faint, and muffled by the sound of gurgling. Heimdall tried to search for the source, but every time he got close, a strange barrier pushed him away. If he looked for too long, he became cross-eyed. Heimdall hunted for the sound for days. By the time he located the potential source, the screaming had long ceased. Heimdall saw a rock floating on the edge of nowhere, a place cast out from the branches of Yggdrasil. It reeked of blood, gushed with it. Heimdall was almost afraid to bring this information forth. Especially when he saw what had become of the prince.

Frigga immediately sent out a call to Loki's mind. She was his mother; no matter how loudly she would have to shout his name, he would hear her. He would come back to her. Loki accepted the neural link for only a moment. She saw the darkness in his heart, in his eyes, in his mind. This was not her son. This was evil. This was chaos. She saw the blood that caked his body. She saw the insects that crawled through his rotting flesh. She saw the exposed muscle of his heart, slamming frantically against his lungs.

Something laughed with Loki's face.

Frigga cried.

When Loki was completely under Thanos' influence, when he no longer had control of his conscious thoughts or actions, he was ready to be used. The shard promised Loki that he was still the one leading the way, and he believed it completely. What had he to fear from Siv's twin? They were the same entity. They were the same body. Same spirit. He trusted her. She led him like a child. Loki told The Other everything he knew about the Tesseract. He knew the girl inside of it, knew how to communicate with it, knew how to obtain its power. The Other was pleased.

Loki was allowed neural leave to Midgard to collect information. He searched for twenty years – three days? An hour? – for any signs of movement. He discovered a base in the middle of a desert. Hundreds of people worked 'round the clock to find some way to tap into the Tesseract's energy. He immediately sought out Erik Selvig, an old man he remembered Thor shared a connection with. This man was incredibly brilliant, his years filled with science and discoveries. He took control easily; this man was soft-hearted. He saw through this Selvig's eyes as their director, a one-eyed man requested his help.

'Well, I guess that's worth a look,' Loki sneered.

"The Tesseract has awakened," The Other told his master one night when he was sure Loki was their slave. "It is on a little world, a human world. They would wield its power, but our ally knows its workings as they never will. He is ready to lead and our force, our Chitauri, will follow. A world will be his; the universe, yours. And the humans, what can they do but burn?"

Thanos allowed Loki the sceptered shard.

21:11

27.3.14