Valhalla was far noisier than Loki anticipated.
Ceaseless whirring and beeping and voices.
"I've never seen anything like this – is he supposed to be cold? Is this makeup?" A muffled woman's voice, one he didn't recognize. "And what are these ridges? Scars?" Rough hands and his garments being torn. Cut?
"You know as much as I do," said another. They sounded as though they were talking through water. "Now help me get these clothes off. We can't treat the injuries if we can't see them."
"I'm not sure we'll be able to treat them anyway. I don't even know what he is."
What I am is no concern of yours, you imbecile, he wanted to say. I would enjoy death a lot better if you would just shut up.
He tried to open his eyes, to figure out why Valkyries would sound so Midgardian, but they wouldn't budge. The voices faded out for a time…and returned as some far more familiar.
"Did you know he could do this?" Stark, Loki was certain. But that made no sense at all. Unless they had all died on the field that day…but surely fate wouldn't be so cruel as to torment him with Stark's presence in Valhalla for eternity.
"Did I know he could do what?" Thor, very close. Memories, these voices had to be memories.
"Change into…this. Whatever the hell this is."
"He didn't change into anything. This is what he is, Stark. A jotun, and my brother."
"I thought he said jotuns were giants, bigger than the largest Asgardian. Was he just fucking with me?"
"I assure you, Stark, Loki has no interest in doing that with you."
You're damn right I don't. Didn't? Why couldn't he just open his eyes? These memories – if that's what they were – were entirely too intrusive for his comfort.
"The feeling's mutual, buddy. I meant – was he joking with me?"
"No. Loki is small for a jotun."
"Well, I've got a lot more questions about this –"
"And they can all wait, Stark." Loki felt a strong hand on his arm – that can't be right, how can I feel a memory? I'm delirious. "Brother, I need you to fight. Fight, Loki."
Why would I want to fight, Thor? I've fought enough. Just leave me in peace.
"I know you're in there, you stubborn fool." Heavy footsteps walking away, and then the opening of a door. Low voices, words he can barely make out. He needs you. You must try again.
Softer footsteps, and then one warm hand in his and another stroking his cheek. "Loki…Loki, please. Come back to me…"
Now I know I'm dead. If I could just open my eyes…
But the darkness was persistent, and silence fell over him once more.
Then finally…finally…he willed his eyes to open, and they did. Just a crack at first, just enough to reduce the light streaming in from the window from blinding to merely uncomfortable.
Window? Where am I?
His eyes adjusted to the light, allowing him to open them a bit more, and he turned toward the window. He could make out buildings just beyond the glass, buildings he recognized at once.
New York. I'm in Stark Tower.
What fresh torture was this?
He was lying in a bed in Stark Tower. He tried to turn, wondering why his torso felt so heavy, when he realized there was something draped across his chest.
Not something. Someone.
He moved his head just enough to look down, to make out the top of a head of warm brown hair, splayed out across his chest and down onto the bed. He raised his arm – noting with dull fascination that he was still in his jotun form – and the moment he moved the head snapped up. Blue eyes met his…blue eyes he would have known anywhere.
"S-Sigyn?"
Before he could utter another word, hands buried themselves in his hair and his face was covered with kisses from warm lips – forehead, eyelids, cheeks, chin and ending on his mouth…gentle, but lingering long enough for him to taste the salt of her tears.
His hands grasped at her back, clutching her to him as tightly as he dared; he breathed deeply, inhaling her scent until he felt dizzy.
The entirety of Valhalla could look like New York, with every other occupant being a duplicate of Stark himself – but he had been returned to his wife's arms. Nothing else mattered.
"Oh, Loki," she said, pulling back. "I was so worried you wouldn't survive. After all I'd done, that would have been too unfair."
"Survive? Survive what?"
"The Chitauri attack."
"I – I don't understand…am I not dead?"
"No, my love," she said, kissing the palm of his hand. "We're very much alive. Both of us."
"How? I saw you –"
"It wasn't me –"
"What happened? H-how? How?"
"I'll tell you. But you must swear to me – swear you'll listen to the entire story first, before you pass judgment on anyone."
Loki squinted at her – he'd never in his life heard a story begin that way that ended with him not wanting to hurt someone. "Go on."
"We think you can be of use to us against the Chitauri."
Sigyn stared at the woman through the glass – Maria Hill, that's what she'd said – calculating her chances of talking her way out of her current predicament. Loki and the others were well on their way to Canada by now – if Heimdall was watching Midgard, his eyes were on Loki's location, not hers. "Who is 'we'? Is Stark a part of this plan?"
"No. You seem to have charmed him to the point he can't recognize an ideal tactic when it's right in front of him. We at S.H.I.E.L.D. have no such blinders…not when the safety of our planet is at stake."
"And how exactly do you think I can help with the Chitauri? My skills lie in the area of diplomacy, not battle. From what I understand, these creatures will not be interested in parley as much as annihilation."
"We won't be using you for fighting – only for motivation."
Sigyn stepped back in horrified understanding. "Whose motivation?" she asked, already knowing the answer.
"Loki's."
"You would use me against him?"
"No, we would use him against the Chitauri. He's made it abundantly clear he has no interest in fighting these creatures for us. Creatures – I might add – that would have no knowledge of our existence were it not for him."
"He was fighting for his survival –"
"And as of right now, so are we. And we need to be able to use all of our weapons at full capacity."
"Loki isn't a weapon," said Sigyn, stepping closer to the glass once again, "he is my husband." She punctuated the last word with a fist to the glass, doing her best to break through not only the window but the mind of this insufferable Midgardian.
To her credit, Hill didn't even flinch. "Which is exactly why we know you'll help us."
"What choice do I have in the matter? I'm the one on this side of the glass," said Sigyn, running her hand down the window. "What can I possibly do to help?"
"Whether it was his intention or not, Stark was very forthcoming with information about you," she said, taking a notebook from one of the guards next to her. "Reiterated again and again just how paramount your safety is…how every one of you Asgardians were kind enough to warn him that if something were to happen to you specifically, Loki would – to quote Stark – 'lose his shit'. Honestly, that sounds pretty helpful – as long as his anger is directed the right way."
"Toward the Chitauri."
"Choice of husband aside – you're not a stupid woman, Lady Aradottir."
"I don't know about that – I'm questioning quite a few of my recent choices…beginning with thinking I could trust any of you. I am an ambassador to this realm. You have no right to risk my safety, no matter whom I married."
"We don't want to harm you –"
"But you'll do it anyway to achieve your victory?"
"You misunderstand. We have no intention of genuinely hurting you. Only a likeness of you."
Sigyn looked back at the chair sitting against the far wall, the one that Loki had appeared to be sitting in when she walked in. "An illusion? That won't fool Loki. And when he realizes what you've done, the Chitauri will be the least of your problems."
"Not an illusion. A reproduction, faithful in every detail. Our technology can have it completed in 12 hours' time."
"Then why do you need me?"
"We need your clothes. Specifically, any of the clothes you were wearing when you were holed up in that room with him…anything that might smell like him. If he spent as much time with these things as he claims he did, they should be able to identify his scent and put the pieces together on just what a wonderful war trophy they'll have discovered."
Sigyn sighed loudly, in equal parts understanding and disgust. "So, my undergarments? That's what you want?"
"That would be helpful, yes. But the outer clothing needs to be something Loki would recognize as yours, even from a distance."
Sigyn paced the room, her mind spinning with anger and frustration. "How exactly do you plan on getting this 'copy' of me into Chitauri hands? I think even they would recognize a lifeless decoy."
"We have an operative stationed in Canada who is prepared to add a little extra information to the message they're sending to the Chitauri ship. Information insinuating that Loki is not where they promised he'd be, and suggesting they send a small party here first."
"And when they arrive, you'll just throw this decoy at them and hope they're fooled?"
"No – we'll put up a little fight, hoping they'll blast their way in. And when they do, we'll leave what appears to be your corpse for discovery."
"What happens to me in the meantime? Am I to be kept here until it's all over?"
"No, we're sending you back to Asgard, just as we promised."
"Why keep me at all if you mean to send me back anyway? Why not just steal my clothing and cry carelessness later?"
"Because now that you know our intentions, you will have all the incentive you need to make sure your people back home send reinforcements."
Sigyn collapsed into the chair, too tired – both physically and mentally – to continue pacing. "What if Loki doesn't survive the attack? What then? Or is that what you're hoping will happen, as recompense for his previous crimes?"
"His survival is of no concern to us, provided he fights well. It would be an honorable death, right? Don't you Asgardians prize that above all else?"
"Not all of us prize death, in any form. And I can promise you, if things do not go well, and my husband dies because of your actions – any future help from Asgard will be non-existent, not just from a diplomatic standpoint, but from Thor as well."
"If things don't go well, Lady Aradottir," said Hill, her mouth turned up in a smile completely empty of humor, "it won't matter. For any of us."
Less than an hour – and one exchanging of clothing – later, Sigyn was on another transport headed for the Bifröst site.
It had only been a handful of days since she'd landed on Midgard with Thor and the others, and in that small span of time, she felt as though she'd aged a millennia. She'd arrived a young and hopeful diplomat-in-training; she was going home a jaded politician, one who was on the verge of becoming a widow for the second time in her short life – and with the same husband.
Fate was certainly having a laugh at her expense, and she was tired of being the butt of the joke.
She sat silently in the airship, contemplating every decision she had made that had led her to this point – starting with accepting Loki's proposal to spend time with him the night of his mother's birthday celebration. If she had the chance to do it all over, knowing what she now knew, would she have done anything differently? Perhaps she would have thanked him for his interest, politely declined his offer of companionship, and then put her resignation in immediately. She could have found a nice farmer living in the fertile valleys of the Asgardian mountains and lived out her days raising smelly cattle and equally smelly children.
And her life…her life would have been so much poorer for it.
The truth was she'd never had a choice when it came to Loki. She hadn't been lying when she told him she was likely in love with him from the moment they met. Part of her was irrevocably his from that day forward – and even if he had never returned her affection, she had known innately that there wasn't another man in the Nine Realms who would have ever surpassed him in her eyes.
In many ways, a life without Loki would have been easier – but easier didn't always mean better or more satisfying. Their relationship had been fraught with hardship and devastation almost from the start, but she knew in her heart that given the chance she would do it all over again, and happily.
Just the thought of what she would have missed was enough to choke her with emotion – but one thing stood out above all else.
Ari.
Their beautiful, precious son – proof that even in the darkest hour of the night, there was always a light that could never fully be extinguished. A light she hoped would illuminate their pathway back from the brink and to some semblance of happiness…provided they each survived the next few days.
As desperately as she wanted to see her son, Sigyn wasted no time upon her arrival in Asgard, going directly to the room in the palace where Odin's war council met – only to find the doors shut and guards stationed outside. They stopped her as she tried to pass them.
"Let me in –"
"Apologies my lady, we were told no one –"
"It is essential that I speak to the Allfather. Your princes' safety is at stake –"
Before she could finish, the door opened just enough for her to see Bjornson standing on the other side.
"Sigyn! What happened?" He held the door wider to let her through. "Were you able to talk to Loki?"
"No, Radi. It's much worse than we feared."
"What is it, child?" Odin's voice boomed throughout the small room from where he stood at the head of the table. "What's worse than we feared?"
She relayed her story as quickly as she could. "Allfather," she said when she was finished, "I know you never intended for Loki to go to Midgard, and that both of your sons will face dire consequences for their disobedience when they return home. But please, if you do not send help – they may never return at all. You cannot punish sons who are dead."
Odin stared at her for a moment, his face a mask of anger tinged with apprehension, before he turned to the rest of the room's occupants.
"Gather our forces. Let the Einherjar of Asgard prove their worth this day – and bring my sons back home."
Sigyn searched the waiting Einherjar at the Bifröst terminus until she found her brother. There was one thing he could do for her.
"Edmund, I know there is no love lost between the two of you, but for my sake…for the sake of your nephew…I need you to find my husband. Please, bring him back to me."
"I will do my best, Sigyn. If I find him, I will signal for help."
"Thank you. And please…be safe. I could not bear to lose either of you."
He nodded at her just as their formation began to move down the bridge to the Observatory.
Sigyn felt a hand on her shoulder, and turned to find the queen, her face lined with worry.
"They will do all they can. You must have faith in Loki, my dear. If there's one thing he's proved again and again, you should never underestimate his skills for survival."
"I know."
"But if it makes you feel any better," she continued, indicating a group of women gathering behind her, "we are prepared to send healers the moment the battle is over. I won't risk my sons' well-being to Midgardian healing capabilities."
The wait was interminable.
The healers were sent to the Observatory just after the last of the Einherjar troops left. From their vantage point at the terminus, Sigyn and Frigga could see every time the Bifröst lit up to send more Asgardians down to Midgard.
Finally, after what seemed like hours, a bedraggled and bloody Einherjar soldier came back up the bridge on horseback, his eyes wide.
"Your Majesty, My Lady. We found him. But you must hurry. There isn't much time."
True to his word, Loki listened to her entire story, only the occasional widening of his eyes or the increased pressure on her hand as his grip became steadily tighter giving away his anger.
"That was two days ago. You were so severely injured they didn't think you were going to make it, even with our healers helping the Midgardian doctors," said Sigyn. "Stark said he'd never seen anything like it – that you waded right into the thick of the battle without a thought to your own safety. I was so scared, Loki. But you're alright now, and that's all that matters."
He stared at her for a moment as she finished, a moment that seemed to stretch out into eternity before he spoke.
"Sigyn, you have ten seconds to convince me not to demolish this building and every last one of its occupants."
Before she could respond, the door to the room opened. In walked Frigga, followed closely behind by Thor.
"Brother, you had us worried!" said the older prince.
"I'm so happy to see you awake, my son," said Frigga, "There's someone else who will be quite happy to see you, as well."
Loki looked past them to the door to see Stark standing there, holding an infant in his hands – an infant Loki recognized at once.
"Well, well, well," said Stark, looking at Ari – who was returning his gaze with a wide-mouthed grin. "Looks like Daddy's awake."
A/N: I do hope this chapter makes up for the last two as far as emotional devastation goes. ;) We've probably only got two, maybe three chapters left, plus an epilogue. Thank you so much for the continued support/reviews/favorites/follows. I appreciate each and every one of you! :)