A/N: I'm back! And HOLY SHIT WASN'T THOR 2 A THRILL? Though I wish it hadn't been so short. I mean, come on Marvel. It wasn't even two freaking hours.

Right, sorry, enough rambling. Shall we get on with the story?

"I'm sorry."

He smiled, and it pained her more than anything ever had before. How had it come to this? How could she stand there and say nothing but those two pitiful words? An utterance that likely didn't even sound sincere?

"I know," he replied quietly. "I know."

The blade flashed, and the floor stained with scarlet.

Eva woke, panting, sweat clinging to her skin as vapour would to hot porcelain. There was no god beside her to kiss or push the nightmare away; perhaps he had crept away back to Germany to deal with other matters. She could hardly scold him for it; being King of an entire planet was no easy talk. He only has himself to blame.

A cup of tea later, and she sat at the kitchen table. It was dawn; no one else was up yet, much to her relief. Contact with people seemed almost abhorrent in this moment. Solitude was sorely needed. Minutes later, and she was walking out in the snow. The branches of trees glistened in weak sunlight, feet crunched powdery white underfoot. Not a soul met Eva as she walked along paths and roads, and it was refreshing. She almost felt as she had before all of this. An unknown. All roads were familiar, yet she felt disconnected. As if she was no longer welcome. As if she was shunned. Unease slithered in her belly, and the cold bit, the wind grazing her chilled-pink cheeks. It was with relief that she arrived home, warmth embracing her ice-worn skin. Feet padded into the kitchen, and Eva smiled tiredly at her father. He pushed a cup of cocoa towards her across the table, and she accepted gratefully, blowing on the steaming liquid as her fingertips brushed the hot ceramic texture.

"What's on your mind, sweet pea?" he asked quietly, stirring his own drink. Eva sighed and tapped the rim of her cup.

"I don't… I don't feel like I belong here anymore, Dad. I don't know what to do. And there are things I don't know that Loki won't tell me, and he's afraid of it, I know he is. He doesn't show it, but the fear is there. And something's coming for Earth. Something big. God," she laughed wearily, "doesn't that sound like a cliché from a film?"

Daniel didn't share in her humour, instead reaching over to grasp her hand in his. It stabilised her a little, a mooring for a ship, and she smiled tentatively.

"I love you, Dad."

His thumb stroked the back of her hand, and he gestured. "Go on, drink up. You need it."

"Are there biscuits?"

He did laugh then, and got up to hunt for some. "Aha!" Producing a packet of chocolate digestives from the cupboard, he set them down. "There you are. Extra chocolate."

"Best Dad ever," she wryly declared, slipping a biscuit from the packet and dipping it in her cocoa.

"I try," came the dry response as he sat down again, stealing a digestive for himself. "Not the healthiest of breakfasts, but it is Christmas. Health flies out the window at this time."

"Agreed."

"So. You going to tell me why Loki came last night?" His eyebrow arched. "Don't think I'm deaf, Eva. I know –"

"Oh, my God, stop." Her cheeks flushed a brilliant crimson, and she almost choked on her drink. "Don't say anymore. Not a word."

Rolling his eyes, Daniel took a bite of biscuit, chewing. "It's nothing I'm a stranger to, Eva. How do you think you came about?"

"Stop. I just – no. No more." She drank a little in her mortification, missing Daniel's amused twinkle in his eye. "Something serious did happen last night, though."

The glint faded, and his brow creased. "What?"

"We… we were hand-fasted," she murmured. "We are truly married now." Her eyes lifted to meet his. "Are… are you disappointed in me?"

His gaze darkened, and his breath came in a heavy exhale. A hand rubbed his face, underlining his tiredness, and he looked at his daughter.

"You got married and I didn't get to walk you down the aisle. You got married, and it was to someone we all hate. You don't even love him." He seemed suddenly sad, and it tore at Eva's heart. "I'm going to assume the marriage has a purpose other than love for evermore."

"You assume right."

"Twenty first century, and marriage is still made with politics in mind. Good grief."

"He was raised a prince; he probably had nothing but politics in mind," she said somewhat wryly. "And I'm not even highborn. He married a commoner - and a human one at that. Not even I saw that coming, I have to admit…"

"Do you want to be his wife?"

Ah, there it was. The million-dollar question. And this time Eva could look her father in the face and answer honestly.

"I'm not ready to marry anyone, Dad. But I had to do it. I can't tell you why. Maybe I'll be able to someday. But not right now."

He studied her for a moment, before his eyes softened and he placed a hand over hers, his grip firm but not uncomfortable.

"You'll do the right thing, in the end," he murmured. "You know your own mind. Whatever you have to do – do it. As long as you know it's worth it, I won't question it. Elise might be slightly more disapproving – I sometimes think she dislikes Loki more than even I do – but she won't stand in your way. Do what you have to, sweetheart." Leaning forwards, he kissed her forehead, exhaling through his nose. "I just don't want you to get hurt."

"I know," Eva said gently, squeezing his hand. "I'll do my best not to."

Loki appeared in the doorway as Eva unpacked her belongings. They were back in New York; Germany seemed pointless, now that there was no baby to care for. Both of them were bruised, emotionally, but they were recovering. The god had shadows under his eyes. As Eva turned to look at him, she wondered if he had slept badly because of the loss. He might wear masks, but he did feel. She knew he did. It was clear enough now. That fateful time of bonding had proved such a thing. The bond was there now. He was reasonably level, though edged with darkness. Always those edges. Eva doubted they'd ever truly turn to goodness.

"Mum didn't take the news of our marriage too well," she said in greeting. "Dad was slightly better, but I think you know his feelings on it. Aidan… well. He just hugged me."

"I see." Loki's voice, though even, was laced with strain; Eva was finding it easier to detect nuances. Or perhaps he was used to her enough that he could let his guard down a little. She suspected it was likely the latter.

An awkward silence fell. Eva did not know how to fill it, or even if she wanted to. The room seemed too big and yet too small, and Loki was the shadow at her back. Everything was different. Wounded animals with no energy to fight anymore.

"He's still coming, isn't he?"

"He was never going to stop."

"What do we do?"

He did not answer immediately, and the pause was long enough to make her heart begin to sink.

"If my plan succeeds, then we will be fine."

"And if it doesn't?"

"Then Earth will burn."

"Excellent." Eva tried her best to sound light-hearted, but it came across as tired and bitter. Loki took careful steps towards his wife, and his fingers toyed with strands of her golden mane.

"Have faith in me."

She laughed, the sound hollow, dull. "Have faith in a liar and a trickster? Are you really asking me that?"

"Yes." His tone was as measured as his footsteps had been, no humour to grace his voice now. "As I asked you before. If you do not trust me, you could lose your life."

"Funny how you care about that now."

He made no answer, and she felt him move from her. His footsteps were soft upon the thick carpet; idly she thought he'd make a good burglar. Precise to the very last.

A strange inhalation sounded from him; for a moment Eva thought he was smelling the flowers on the table.

But you don't smell with your mouth…

Turning, she saw Loki utterly rigid, his back ramrod-straight. His fists were clenched; a flicker of concern lit itself in her mind, and she walked cautiously up to him. His face was unseeing and yet observant, and his jaw was as taut as his back.

"Loki?" she whispered. Then, slightly louder, "Loki!"

Nothing. No response whatsoever. Alarmed now, she simply stood there, unsure of what to do. Was it an illness? Was it pain?

And then his eyes filled with tears, and they swivelled, focusing on her.

"I…"

Fear. That was what it was. She understood it in that moment. Loki was terrified. The sheer strength of it was astounding, and instinctively Eva's hands cupped his cheeks.

"Loki. You're here. Safe. It's alright."

His answering laugh was bitter.

"Safe. Of course I am." He pulled her hands away from his face, staring at her. "Only a mortal would say something so naïve. Foolish girl."

In the past, such words would have stung. But she could ignore them now, or so she thought.

"It's called comforting someone. You were in distress. But if you don't want me to help you, I won't." Her tone was calm. "I'll be in my room."

She walked away without another word.

Loki sank to his knees. Thanos' taunting had shaken him to the point where he was glad Eva had left. He did not think he could have kept his façade up a moment longer. His hands trembled, and he exhaled, an attempt to regulate his breathing, closing his eye. Norns, but Thanos was truly made of nightmares. Loki had blocked most of the pain from his mind, but he could still remember the voice spun of terrors, the hissing of the Other, the touch of those creatures, the pleading, the desperation –

His eyes opened. Realising he had fallen sideways onto the carpet, he scolded himself for displaying such weakness. And yet the fear tore at his heart, hastening the pulse every second. He made no move to lift himself from the floor, too weary and too disheartened to make the effort. Somehow the carpet seemed safe. Warm.

An image of Frigga flashed through his mind, and pain gripped his soul. There was a time where he had been soothed by her when hurt or harm ensued. Not anymore. He would never admit, even to himself, how much he needed her. As every boy needed his mother. Loki had not been a boy for centuries… but he still yearned for a mother's comfort. For a mother's guidance.

And here, he had neither one.

A/N: Do you pity him? Or do you think he deserves it?

Lightning xoxo