By the time Loki could escape from the palace to Heimdall's home, night had fallen and Gwen was asleep, while the gatekeeper leaned on the narrow doorframe and watched the few stars that managed to shine through the glow of the buildings.

"You know," he said, as Loki walked past him, "she isn't the woman I imagined you settling with."

"We're far from settled," said Loki, "and out of curiosity, what were you envisaging?"

"An Asgardian, for one thing. An extremely patient woman who wouldn't argue back, perhaps. Someone more… visually impressive."

"Well, you were astoundingly wrong in that respect. And watch your tongue about her, gatekeeper."

"I meant no offence. I can almost believe she suits you better."

"As can I," he said, "almost. How long have you known I was alive?"

"Since you allowed Thor to decline the throne," Heimdall told him, "Odin was far too proud of his work grooming his son to be king to let it go."

"Does anyone else know?"

"Of course not," Heimdall said, "your silver tongue has finally found its calling."

He laughed softly. "Resume your post, Heimdall, and dismiss the guards I left at the Bifrost in your absence."

"Gladly, my lord." He left the building, and Loki wandered over to Gwen's bag, which was dumped in a corner.

Considering what she had achieved in the last year, Gwen had left her home with barely more than what she had started with. A change of clothes, enough food to last her and Algernon a week, her forged papers, her battered pair of bronze knuckles, and one of his knives. It was blunt and tarnished, so she must have taken it with her for sentimental reasons. There were also a few books; her old copy of Catch-22, a children's tale, a compendium of Cicero's letters, and Captain Corelli's Mandolin. Loki had held a grudge against Cicero ever since Gwen had mentioned she would rather have dinner with the Roman than him, Corelli looked to be another damn war story, and he had read 22, so he sat at the end of her bed and started reading the child's story.

"Hey."

As he finished the book an hour or so later, Loki looked up to see that Gwen was watching. He was struck at that moment by how far she had come from the filthy little street rat he had found, all that time ago. That creature had been capable of small tricks, no doubt, but the one curled up before him could claim worlds as her own with barely an effort. "Hello. Have you come to your senses yet?"

"If you talk to me like that I'm going back to sleep," she said levelly.

"Sorry."

"It's fine," she sighed, teasing the knots out of her hair, "you've got a point. It was a stupid idea, I get that now. I'm sorry."

"There's no reason to apologise to me," he said, "I had only to hunt you down to the other side of Midgard, spend hours carrying an incredibly annoying child to the nearest sign of civilisation, and reveal my identity to one of the most powerful people in Asgard. Really, no need at all."

"You're such a twat," she mumbled, and Loki held out his arm. She crawled over to him and curled up at his side, her feet in his lap and her forehead on his collarbone. "Thanks for not letting me get arrested."

"I refuse to share you with the Midgardian authorities," he informed her, and kissed her forehead.

"Y'know," she said, "when Cicero's daughter died, he definitely reacted a lot worse than I did. He just wandered round in the woods for three months, crying."

"How very Midgardian of him."

"He said in a letter, he said… 'I have lost the one thing which tied me to life.'" Her voice broke on the last word. "What am I going to do now, Loki?"

"Stay here for a week or two and slink back into the Rats' burrow when the dust has settled." He smiled as she groaned. "A whole other world to explore, mouse, another timeline's worth of history. Surely that will keep you entertained for a fortnight."

"Mmm. I can't help but notice you're reading a kids' book," she said, tracing his knuckles with her finger. "First John Donne and now this."

"Well it was the only one you had that wasn't set on Midgard, which I see more than enough of already."

"Still a kids' book, though."

"Hardly the sort of stories I was read as a child."

"Let me guess," she said, "they involved the princess being rescued from the monster by a dashing young man, when all others have failed."

Loki laughed. "How did you know?"

"Some things never change, regardless of what realm they're in." She rose up onto her knees, and he felt her narrow fingers brush against his cheek. "Another being that I'm kind of in love with you."

He pressed his forehead against hers. "Only kind of?"

"I have to play it down," she whispered, "or it might go to your head."

When her face was this close, he could lose himself in her eyes and forget all her many flaws. "I am sorry about your daughter, mouse. Truly."

They were big, sad eyes, and they held inside them trapped worlds of pain and love. "I know. I am too. But I'll heal – I'll get better. I'll be the best damn thing that's ever happened to this universe, just you wait and see."

"A little vain, don't you think?"

"Hypocrite."

Loki could see she was hurting – it was so easy to read her, sometimes, due to the simple fact that it was like looking in a mirror. And because of that, he decided to let her hide that pain. If there was one thing he had learned, it was that stoicism was a necessary lie, for people like them. So he let her pretend, and when she cried again he, in turn, pretended that he could not see.

It was the closest they could come to healing.

%

He should have guessed that, Gwen being involved, there would be some difficulties.

"I am not going anywhere near that palace," she said flatly, arms crossed as they stood on either side of Heimdall's table.

"Why not? Being a wench would mean you having an excuse for being around, and you wouldn't be sat here doing nothing."

"One," she began, ticking reasons off on her fingers, "maybe I'm enjoying doing nothing, for a change. Two, I refuse to be called a wench, since it's nearly as bad as whore and besides, it sounds like seafood. Three, that palace is the epitome of a feudal system which I have spent my entire adult life morally opposed to. Four, being a maid in Stark Tower is one thing, Asgard another entirely. Five, it has really high towers and shit and I'm really afraid of heights. Six-"

"Fine!" Loki snapped, "you won't be a wen- a maid. We could perpetuate that you're a guest from one of the other realms, which is technically true-"

"All of the previous reasons 'cept for two and four apply to that as well, and also I can't pull off posh and nobby. I just want to go home," she whined.

"Well I'm sorry, darling, but that's impossible. So unless you have any other ideas?"

"Does Heimdall need an apprentice?"

"Does he strike you as the sort of person to consider retiring? Ever?" Loki was about to continue laying into her, then something occurred to him. "The librarian in the palace is ancient, you could-"

"No! I'm not being a librarian, posh boy, I have a punk rock image to maintain!"

"You're impossible," he said, "you know that?"

"Bit rich, coming from you!"

The two of them glared at each other for a while, waiting for the other to break the silence. Then-

"If there wasn't a table in the way, I would so be having sex with you right now," said Gwen, still sounding quite angry. Whether it was at him or the table, Loki wasn't sure.

"Well," he replied, "just walk up to me, then."

"Or you could walk up to me."

"Why should I?"

"Because you're in the wrong, arsehole!" She glowered at him, and then her face broke into a grin. "God, this is so stupid. We're so stupid, we can't even figure this out."

"We'll think of something, Gwen," he said, "and if we don't, it's only a fortnight. We've both survived worse."

She nodded. "I can't help noticing," she said, "that you appear to have walked around the table."

"As have you."

He kissed the smirk right off of her face.