I know, I know. The ending of that last one! Painful stuff.
I love you very much for reading this bad boy.
Big thanks to my superstar betas!
1st beta: Heather
Final beta: Erica
Chapter 15: The Dead Keep It
She kneels in the dirt, squinting at her husband laid out before her. Gravel digs into her knees but she doesn't feel it, nor does she notice the blowing dust pricking her cheeks or Jane examining her torso, looking for wounds that do not exist.
Wind howls in her ears and when Thor's face fills her vision, she stares with wide eyes as his mouth moves. She cannot hear any words. His cheeks are wet with tears and Eleanor does not think she's ever seen someone cry so pretty.
Eventually he seems to come to a decision without Eleanor's input, turning back to Loki where he lies, grey and lifeless and bloodied before her.
Eleanor is blank, unable to comprehend or think or feel. She breathes, but barely.
Still not processing the sight before her, Eleanor stares as Thor folds Loki's arms over his chest, placing daggers in his hands. Thor rips his red cape from his back to cover Loki from head to foot, obscuring the lifeless, grey face of her husband.
And it is wrong. Horribly, sickeningly wrong.
Loki hates the color red and suddenly her chest burns. Her limbs quake. Fisting her hands in the gravel at her sides does nothing to keep her from shaking.
She feels sick, as if she is barely keeping her bones from shattering. This pain is physical and she needs to find her voice, to demand that Thor remove all that red covering her husband, but she is mute.
From her position kneeling on the ground she sways, clenching her jaw to keep from vomiting all over Loki. Her chest is liquid fire and the little whimper that gets past her closed mouth is lost in the wind. She is dying, the burning in her chest intensifying and spreading. She will be nothing but ash on the wind.
But then she is fine. There is no pain, only numbness, and she thinks she imagined the feeling.
Thor and Jane are talking to her again. She hears only wind and the beating of her own heart. The pair shares a concerned look and confers for a moment before Thor hauls Eleanor to her feet.
She goes willingly, passively, but without her godly brother-in-law propping her up, Eleanor's knees give out and she finds herself kneeling in the gravel again.
Thor lifts her once more, this time pulling her into his arms. She clings to his neck, coveting his warmth and watching, fascinated, as tears flow freely down his cheeks. Eleanor's face remains dry.
A storm rages around them and they are going somewhere, struggling to move against the wind. They are leaving Loki grey and lifeless and covered up with red, draped in the wrong color.
Eleanor stares at the bright red, the color stark and bizarre against the barren, dark landscape. She stares until the dust storm is too thick and the burn in her eyes is too great.
She hides her face in Thor's neck and doesn't understand anything.
Thor and Jane allow her to collapse in a heap the moment they find shelter in a dank cave. Her legs aren't working. Her heart isn't working.
They scaled a mountain of gravel while a windstorm raged around them, so Eleanor should feel some relief that they were able to find shelter. Instead, she feels nothing.
"It's good." The harsh voice that fights its way out her dry throat does not sound like her own, but Thor and Jane are blinking at her, confused by these words, so she must be the one talking. "It's good. I mean, if it was the other way around, if I died and Loki…"
The phrase gets stuck in her chest and Eleanor can see him there without even closing her eyes, gaping hole beneath his ribs, eyes closed, skin grey, his Jotunn runes etching themselves onto his skin as he reverts to his true form in death.
She digs the heels of her hands into her eyes, trying to unsee his end.
"It's good, it's good," she chants, rocking on the ground and keeping her eyes shut. "It's good. If it was opposite, if it was me with the, the, the—"
"Eleanor." Jane's hand is on her shoulder. She barely notices.
"If it was me with the hole right through my chest, he'd destroy everything. He'd burn down worlds. And I won't do that. I won't do that. I can't do that but I wouldn't, even if I could."
"Eleanor!" Jane pulls her hands from her face, shaking her until she opens her eyes. "We don't have time for this." Jane is crying. Why is Eleanor not crying? Her husband is dead and Eleanor should be crying. "We, you, can't mourn him yet. You can't get hysterical. Malekith is going to end everything. There will be no more light, Eleanor. No suns. No stars. We can't mourn him yet."
Eleanor nods but can't get her legs under her. Jane and Thor are arguing about something, discussing the end of the universe and no more light and no more anything.
In an abstract way, Eleanor does not want everything to end. Logically, she knows that they are in a very bad situation here, but all her senses are muted, including the ones that should currently be panicking.
Loki is... not here, and if she allows herself to feel the weight of it she will never be able to stand and exit this cave.
Shock is doing funny things to her ears because she hears jarring hip hop, music she's missed during her year spent on Asgard with their limited, stodgy musical tastes.
Loki hates hip hop as he hates most things.
Hated. Past tense. Loki hated hip hop.
"It's not me," says Thor, as if there was ever any doubt.
Jane pulls a phone from her coat pocket and answers, speaking to someone named Richard. From her spot at the mouth of the cave, Eleanor blinks.
Jane on a phone in a cave on the Dark World so soon after Loki's… what happened to Loki is beyond Eleanor's comprehension.
Do not believe anything you see here.
Those were some of the last words her husband spoke to her, just before he kissed her for the last time and left her on the crest of that rocky hill to watch him stab his brother. Jane shrieked in horror but Eleanor followed Loki's advice and did not believe anything she saw there.
Until he was run through with a giant spear.
Suddenly there is doubt. Thor didn't give her enough time with the body, with Loki, but when he started to turn a dull, grey, dead blue and she saw the runes, she believed that.
But shouldn't she feel different? Beyond the shock and grief and fucking gut-wrenching pain, she is woefully unaltered. And maybe that would be expected if she watched any other loved one take their final breaths, but this is Loki. They are bonded.
Was there a strange moment when she ended up on her back? Did it feel like she was burning from the inside out? She can't recall the details of the last hour or so since Loki fell, just the knowledge that he is gone.
Has it only been an hour? Has it been days?
Now she struggles to clear her mind and analyze her insides, searching for some proof that the bond is no longer with her.
She remembers when Odin first wrought his magic over five years ago. When they were first bonded, she could feel the connection like it was a living, breathing thing, part of her but also part of him. Back then she could sense him, both his movement and his emotions. Months passed and she got used to living with this extra Loki-shaped piece residing inside her, but it was there even if she could no longer sense him.
Years went by and the nature of the bond changed into something beyond Odin's control, something profound and truly theirs. Loki could access it. When she was gone from his sight, at Princess Lessons or exploring the capital city, he would brush up against the bond, checking on her, making sure that she was safe. Eleanor could never feel him do this or reach out to him in turn, but it was on her list of things to learn.
Loki was going to teach her.
She closes her eyes, trying to access the bond now, but she can't find him as she searches inside herself for the connection they've shared so long.
But even this doesn't stamp out this dangerous flare of hope. She's never been able to find him this way, so why would it be any different in this moment of extreme duress?
Eleanor does not feel any different and if Loki were truly gone then she would be altered. With the bond ripped away, she would be empty.
"Eleanor?" Jane says, tugging on her arm. The phone stays pressed to her ear "Come on. We've gotta go. Now!"
"Go?" Eleanor asks, blinking up at her friend. "Go where?"
"Back to Earth. I can get us there. It's right through here. We need to move now to stop Malekith."
Eleanor can't go to Midgard. Loki might still be alive out there somewhere and Earth is definitely more than a few miles away.
"No," she says. "You go. I'll be fine here."
"Fine?" Jane squeaks. "There isn't anything here!"
"What do you mean to do?" Thor asks.
"I'm… I can't just leave him here. I'll… bring him back to Asgard. The body. I won't be any use on Midgard for this fight anyway," she says.
"How the hell are you going to get back to Asgard?" Jane demands. "You can't even stand."
It takes her a minute and Thor needs to steady her at one point, but Eleanor stands on shaky legs like a goddamn newborn gazelle, raising a defiant chin in Jane's direction.
"Okay. You can stand. Congrats," says Jane. She hasn't stopped crying since Loki. Why isn't Eleanor crying? "How are you going to get back to Asgard?"
"I'll use the boat thing we came in on. I know the paths. I have the magic. Loki taught me." Loki did not teach her to move between worlds on her own, but he did teach her to lie.
Thor looks convinced. Jane looks almost convinced.
"I don't know, Eleanor," says Jane. "I don't like leaving you alone here, given what just happened."
"Well, you'll have to. I'm not going Midgard."
"Eleanor—"
"I can't leave him. I'm not going to leave him."
"But—"
"Jane, she has made up her mind. It is for the best. We must depart now. I trust Eleanor to get back safely on her own and if she does not we will know where to look if we manage to save the entire universe," says Thor.
Eleanor gives him a grateful nod.
"I don't like this. She's grieving and a mess. We can't just leave her alone. I don't like it," says Jane.
"I'm not asking you to like it," Eleanor snaps. "But I'm not going to Midgard and you are needed there. Go save the twenty-seven realms."
"Nine," corrects Thor.
"I'll be fine, Jane," Eleanor says again. "As fine as I can be, anyway."
Jane hugs her for far too long, given that the universe is on the brink of destruction. Thor kisses her forehead.
Despite the break up and the year spent apart, Thor and Jane lace their fingers together before walking to the back of the cave and disappearing in a ripple, off to Midgard. It doesn't seem possible, but Eleanor wastes no time trying to wrap her head around the fact that Thor and Jane just fucking strolled between realms.
The world outside the cave is bleak and desolate as ever, but the windstorm ended when the thunder god strolled off this realm and onto another, so the descent is much more pleasant than what she remembers of the climb.
She falls twice on the way down, her feet sliding out from under her in the loose gravel, but she is determined to make her way back to his body, to crush this dangerous hope permanently or to find her way back to her husband,
Either way, her answers lie at the base of the extremely steep hill.
She hums to herself as she works her way to the spot where she saw something she does not want to believe. It calms her, keeps the grief at bay, and while she hums she searches inside herself for any sign that the bond is either still in place or missing altogether.
She can't pinpoint it. Loki never taught her how.
At the base of the gravelly mountain, Eleanor pauses. She hides behind a jagged grey rock, knowing full well that they left Loki just on the other side.
Don't believe anything you see here. Don't believe anything you see here.
Suddenly she doesn't want to know. She is more comfortable clinging to the possibility that Loki is still here somewhere because if his body still lies in the dirt on the other side of these boulders then there will be nothing for Eleanor to do but shatter.
It takes longer than it should to muster the strength to step around the rocks to get her answer, but when she does it is like watching that fucking monster stab him all over again
There is Loki, laid out in the gravel some fifteen feet from where they left him, except it's not Loki. There is no Loki. Loki died some two hours ago, run right through with an alien blade as he fought to protect his brother.
Eleanor stumbles, her stomach rolling. She stares at the body that was once her husband and she can't breathe. She doubles over, supporting her weight with hands on her knees. Falling is not an option. If she lies down in the dirt, she'll never get up.
Like Loki will never get up.
She curses her own stupidity and the foolish, blind hope that sent her back down the mountain.
But it still doesn't seem right, that she wouldn't notice when her connection to him was severed so violently. A profound, immeasurable part of her was ripped out, but she doesn't feel physically any different.
She recalls the burning and struggles to breathe.
Eleanor straightens, forcing herself to look once more at the body that was once Loki. Something is not right there either.
Before he dragged her away, Eleanor is almost positive that Thor put Loki's daggers in his hands, crossing his arms over his chest in the same way they placed Frigga in her boat. Thor reverently covered Loki with his cape. All Eleanor could think about was how Loki would hate being swaddled in all that red. It was an inane thought, one of the only semi-coherent ones to clarify through her cloud of shock.
Now the body, Loki, is not covered in anything.
From the fifteen feet separating them, Eleanor can clearly see his pale face and sharp features. The daggers are a few feet away, apparently tossed in dirt. His hands press into the wound.
The hope is back.
Eleanor approaches with great caution, attempting to mentally prepare herself for further heartbreak.
When there are only a few feet separating them, the body that was once her husband raises its head and reaches for a dagger.
"Oh," it says with obvious relief. "It's just you. Good. I am in no position to be defending myself."
Eleanor promptly collapses in the dirt. The tears finally come, two hours and one dead husband too late. She covers her face with her hands, a great release as the numbness finally dissipates and she feels everything that's happened since arriving here all at once.
She sobs and shakes and wants to reach out for her very much alive husband, but her body is unresponsive. Loki is speaking to her, tone soothing and then concerned, but her own cries drown out his words.
When he reaches out, grazing her knee with his fingertips, she jumps, but it successfully snaps her out of her breakdown. Suddenly not touching him is a travesty and she scoots closer, leaving a rift in the gavel in her wake. She blindly gropes at him until she finds his hands – sticky and hot with his own blood – squeezing with all her meager strength and trying to convince her body that he's alive, alive, alive.
"Eleanor," he murmurs, thumb stroking her knuckles. "Why do you not open your eyes, my love?"
"Because," she replies, whimpering. "The last thing I saw was your eyes and maybe I've dreamed this all up and when I look at you again you'll just be a body and I can't—"
"Eleanor." His hand comes to her cheek and she opens her eyes.
He's smiling softly, sadly, and sitting up on one elbow seems to be an extreme effort, but he is very much alive. His skin is pale and perfect, the Jotunn runes hidden once more.
"I am so sorry," he says and Eleanor loses it again, her sobs returning with such intense violence that breathing becomes nearly impossible.
Loki lies back and Eleanor huddles over him, resting her forehead on his and keeping her eyes open. His cheeks are wet too, and Eleanor cannot tell if these tears are his own or if they are hers, dripping off her face and onto his.
"Breathe," Loki murmurs, stroking her hair. "Match your breathing to mine. I love you. I'm here and I love you."
It helps, and eventually Eleanor takes in air somewhat normally, even if her breathing remains harsh and thin.
"You did not cry like this when you thought me dead," Loki mutters. "You did not cry when I fell nor when you left me here."
"Yeah, because that's what I do. When I get upset and terrified and fucking heartbroken, I get loud. Loudness is my defining characteristic!"
"Sarcasm suits you ill, my wife."
"Wait, you saw us leave? Why the fuck didn't you say anything? What happened?" she says, lying down on his chest. Loki winces, a little pained cry escaping the firmly closed seam of his lips, and Eleanor sits up, gently pushing aside his jacket. "Oh, Loki."
He's managed to stop the bleeding with a piece of cloth that was probably once green. It's heavy with blood now, and Eleanor peeks under it, horrified by his wound, yet also amazed that it's not much worse.
"I'm healing," he explains. "It will take some time."
"Fuck, you're not going to die on me again, are you?" she asks, fear clawing at her throat. She tosses aside the bloodied cloth and retrieves Thor's cape. She folds it as neatly as shaking hands can manage and presses it to the wound.
"No, we are well past the point of that, I believe."
"You like, really, really got stabbed! How are you not dead? I thought you were dead!" She is getting hysterical and only calms slightly when Loki takes both her hands in his.
"It will be all right, Eleanor," Loki murmurs, letting his head fall back to the ground. Holding it up was taking too much effort, it would seem.
"But you didn't die so that means you faked your death and I don't get why you would to that to me, to Thor." She thinks about tearing her hands from his, but doesn't because he is alive and touching her and no matter what he's up to in this moment, she is weak with relief.
"But I did die," Loki says, closing his eyes and grimacing. "At least I believe so. I am not sure. The whole thing was rather jarring."
"I would think so. You were fucking skewered."
"That's not what I mean."
Eleanor leans against his side, careful to avoid the gaping wound in his chest. She cradles his face. "What do you mean, Loki? What happened?"
"I died," he says again. "I… I was ripped from my body and I recall desperately grasping for anything that tethered me here. I thought of you and our short time together and how you would feel to lose me so soon after Frigga."
Eleanor is crying again, or maybe she never stopped. Loki pauses for a moment, closing his eyes and apparently attempting to collect himself.
"It was very strange as I had no physical form, but I scrambled for something to grip, for anything to hold me here."
"And then?" Eleanor whispers.
"And then I found it. The thing to tether me to this plane of existence."
"What?" she says, extremely wary. She is envisioning all sorts of sold-his-soul-to-the-devil-to-not-die scenarios.
"The bond, Eleanor. Do not look so concerned. I found the bond and I clung to it even as it felt as though I was being pulled apart, piece by piece. At some point it began to deteriorate around me, but somehow I willed it to remain. And I held it together. The whole thing was unpleasant."
"The bond?" she squeaks, remembering how her own chest burned. "Our bond? Is that even possible?"
"Well, obviously," he says, rolling his eyes. The irritated gesture makes Eleanor smile. "Here I sit. But I do not know how or why I was put back."
"I think I felt it. I don't really know. I was…" She doesn't have the words to describe what it was like to watch Loki die, nor can she bear thinking about it.
"You are not overly perceptive when it comes to this magic, my sweet. And from what I gather you had gone catatonic. I imagine it was impossible for you to really feel anything in such a state," Loki muses, wincing as he readjusts slightly.
"My chest burned. I don't know for how long, but it burned. I think."
"There you have it then. That was me."
"And before that. When you first got stabbed, before you died. I fell down. Why did I fall down?"
Loki attempts to shrug, but ends up hissing in pain instead. "I know not. Perhaps that too was the bond? So great was the violence I experienced, that you too felt it. But this is all guesswork. Before this occurred I would have said that none of it was possible."
"Well, fuck. How? Just…how?"
Loki does his best to shrug, given the extent of his injury. "All I can recall is immense pain, moving at unprecedented speeds, and desperately clinging to the bond, pulling it around me like a protective cocoon. And then I was back in this clearing, listening to Thor insist you move as a storm raged around us."
"Thor insisted I move?"
"Apparently you were rather unresponsive. I could not see. Some awful red thing obscured my vision."
Eleanor laughs and once she starts she cannot stop. Hysteria descends once more and it doesn't take long for her uncontrollable giggling to turn back into sobs. She cries into his neck as Loki makes soothing sounds, doing his best to get his arms around her, despite the pain of his huge-ass puncture wound.
They stay like that for a long time, until Eleanor can breathe again.
"Wait," she says, sitting upright. "Your freaky little cosmic trip happened in just a few minutes and you were back alive when Thor dragged me away? You didn't say anything. You let me think you were dead!"
"Eleanor," he says, trying to appease her before she really gets going.
"You absolute fucking dickhead!" she screeches, hands balling into fists at her sides. "How the fuck could you do that to me, you fucking fucker. You let me think you were dead for two fucking hours, the longest, most painful two hours of my life!"
"I know. And I am truly sorry for it."
"And what if I'd left for Midgard with Thor and Jane?" she demands.
"Thor and Jane left for Midgard? However did they manage that?"
"I could have killed us both! Trying to go to another fucking world without you. Last time I checked, Midgard was a bit out of our boundary!"
"Eleanor," Loki says. His tone is patronizing and it makes Eleanor much more angry. "I knew you would figure it out. I had faith in your ability to determine that I lived still."
"But you died! And then you didn't die and you just let me go on thinking you did! You fucking asshole. I should fucking kill you all the fuck over again." She continues to scream, the barren landscape making it sound louder and more severe. It seems to rebound off rocks, amplified to more accurately fix the scope of her fury.
"Eleanor," Loki says with a sigh. Somehow he manages to push himself into a seated position and the pain that flickers on his face cools her rage, but only marginally. "Would you like to continue with the name calling or perhaps you would rather an explanation for my actions?"
"Fuck your explanations! I can't fucking believe you did that to me. Who willingly lets their wife think that they died? It's goddamn cruel, you fucking douchebag. You son of—"
"We're free!" Loki shouts, his voice echoing through the dead world around them.
Eleanor blinks because this is far from the answer she was expecting.
"Eleanor, we are free. Don't you see? With me dead, we can go anywhere, be anyone, live any life we want. There is no need to return to the prison that is Asgard. With me dead, we can do anything. Perhaps it will even convince the titan for several millennia. This great danger to you is past, assuming Thor wins, and Thor always wins. We can disappear, Eleanor. We are free." Loki speaks with barely-contained glee, his eyes wide and hopeful.
"Oh," says Eleanor, unsure what to think. "Oh."
"Just imagine it, Eleanor," he says, vibrating with excitement. There is a mania in his eyes that Eleanor has not seen in a long time. "Just you and me, living anywhere. Name it and I will give it to you. Do you miss your garden? We can go to Vanaheim. It is known for its fertility. I will construct us a house tucked in the mountains and you will garden and make music. Or the sea. You do like the sea. Anywhere you desire, Eleanor. We will be free."
"Oh," says Eleanor again.
Loki opens his mouth to keep gushing about his half-cocked plan to disappear into the nine realms but then he is wincing and falling back down. He lands in the gravel with a grunt.
"Damn," he hisses, touching the wound. His hands comes away bloody and he stares at it for a moment before closing his eyes and bringing Thor's cloak back to stop the bleeding.
"Loki! Goddamn, it," Eleanor says, reaching out. Loki is grimacing and Eleanor hates to see him in pain. "What should I do?"
His hand is pressed into the soaked fabric and it pulses green, glowing in slow, steady, beats. "I require your magic, Eleanor."
"I don't know how to heal," she says, the tears starting up again.
"Hush," Loki murmurs. "Simply place your hand atop mine. I shall do the rest. If you have no objection to me harnessing your power, of course."
Rolling her eyes, Eleanor lies down next to Loki, resting her head against his shoulder and lacing her fingers through his free hand. She lays her other hand over his, her pale yellow magic pulsing in time with his green, and Eleanor is suddenly, overwhelmingly calm. The sensation is strange, a pleasant tingle. It's such a small, easy thing to give him, to help him heal. She'd give anything.
Loki's calm too. His breathing is deep and even, the ripples of magic meeting the steady beat of his heart. His eyes are still closed, but Eleanor stares intently at his face, beautiful and relaxed even from this odd angle.
"I love you," she murmurs.
The corner of his mouth twitches up. He hums his agreement.
"Fuck," she says, shuddering as she remembers. "Do I love you. Never, never, never do that to me again."
"I am sorry, Eleanor," he replies. "Truly, I am sorry."
She believes him and she is calm.
"I cannot even imagine what you went through these last few hours, Eleanor," he says. They are strange words when combined with her tone of pure contentment. The magic warms her hand, so she imagines it feels rather nice for Loki as well. "If it was you, not I who… I could not bear it with any sort of sanity. I would be beyond reason."
"I know," says Eleanor. "I babbled about that to Thor and Jane, I think."
"You think?"
"It's a bit of a blur now. Shock and grief do funny things to a person."
"Yet you chose to stay?"
She lifts her hand to the throat and talks with his voice. "Don't believe anything you see here."
Loki chuckles.
"And I thought I'd feel different. I might not be very good at noticing our bond, but if you were gone, really ripped away from me, I'd have to notice. Right?"
"Indeed, Eleanor."
"I had to be sure. Even if it was a long shot, I had to know."
Loki turns his head to kiss her temple.
"The whole universe might end real soon, you know," she murmurs. "Are we just going to lie here forever?"
"It's not wholly unappealing. Is it?"
"It just doesn't seem right. That the whole universe might end and your brother thinks you are dead. And Jane too. She cried when I couldn't."
"The universe will survive," Loki says. He sounds so fucking sure.
"Oh?"
"Thor will win. Thor will always win and the memory of our former relationship might momentarily pain him, but he will rebound quickly."
"I very much doubt it," Eleanor says. "Although it's nice to hear you have such absolute faith in your brother."
Loki grumbles, but offers no further comment.
"You really want to fake your death?" she asks.
"Yes. It is a solution to a litany of problems. Frankly, I do not understand your hesitation," he replies.
"Well, it's a bit morally ambiguous. You are supposed to be serving a punishment for some very real crimes."
Loki sighs. "You do not wish me freedom? From the threat of the Titan? From Odin? We are at his mercy, Eleanor, and you know how close he is to ending the whole thing, ending my life. This means freedom, Eleanor. For both of us."
"What about the bond?" Eleanor asks. "Can't he sense it? Won't he know that you're not dead?"
"The bond is ours now, Eleanor. We've altered it and while I believe Odin could still remove it if he saw fit to, he can no longer access it like we can. He will not know."
This pleases Eleanor. She smiles, closes her eyes, and lets herself drift, soothed by the magic warming her hand and Loki at her side.
"Thor and Jane will simply assume that you were unable to find your way out of here. They will look, but we will be long departed," Loki says, grinning at the prospect.
And that's what really does it.
"I can't," she says, sitting up. It's a little awkward and she struggles to keep her hand steady on his. Loki won't look at her but he is so painfully disappointed, Eleanor almost changes her mind. "I can't let everyone think I'm dead. Maybe you're okay with Thor being heartbroken, but I can't do that to my family. I disappeared on them once before and I can't do it again. And then Jane and Darcy and Thor, too. I can't."
"You can't," he says, turning away from her. For a moment it looks like he's going to remove her hand from his chest, but at the last moment he thinks better of it. "You can't? There is no other option, Eleanor. Odin will have my head for this, I am sure of it, and if he does not I will surely perish from the boredom of being locked away in those rooms for the remainder of my days."
She goes quiet, her need to give him whatever he wants because he almost died warring with her guilt over lying to Thor and Jane about something that will cause them both so much heartache.
"Okay," she murmurs.
His smile is cautious. 'Truly?"
"Yeah."
He moves to kiss her and then lets out a completely undignified squeak when he jostles his wound. Eleanor kisses him instead, relieved that doing so is still an option, overjoyed that he lives.
She offers to retrieve the skiff and fly it back to him, thinking only of his comfort. He firmly refuses, holding her as tightly as he can manage given his weakened, healing state.
"Just allow me a bit more of your magic and a bit more of your time. We will not be parted again, not in this dreadful place."
A bit more time stretches into several hours, but eventually the wound closes enough for Loki to sit up and trudge back to the craft without losing any more blood.
It was his heart that caused him to die, if the odd magic that occurred when he was ripped from his body constitutes dying. The spear pierced his heart and he should have died, but when he did not, all his magic went to healing his heart. Before Eleanor returned to him, he accomplished this, and although the damage inflicted to his insides is highly unpleasant, it is no longer fatal.
Now he winces with every step and leans heavily on his wife, but waves off her suggestions that he stop and rest every three paces. Still, it is a relief when they finally reach the relative safety of the skiff. Loki is in no condition to defend them and Eleanor's skills are entirely lacking. With the skiff, they will at the very least be able to flee in the unlikely event that some enemy happens upon them.
"I would not risk travel between worlds until the Convergence passes. In fact, we should endeavor to move as little as possible. The universe is about to get very strange." Loki winces as he reaches too far for a flagon of wine that rests in Eleanor's lap. She glowers and scoots close, until there is no distance between them. For this Loki is thankful.
Despite everything that has occurred in these last traumatizing days, Loki is too exhausted to feel anything but intense gratitude that his wife is beside him, fretting over his healing innards and forcing him to eat.
Simply breathing causes him pain that he struggles to hide from Eleanor. Although he no longer bleeds, his organs are still slowly stitching themselves back together and the sensation is unpleasant.
"How long do you think it will be?" Eleanor asks, taking the wine from his shaking hand when he proves incapable of lifting it to his lips. Too worn down to be embarrassed by his own ineptitude, he accepts the help without complaint and drinks deeply.
"At least another night."
"Fuck, I hate it here."
Loki thoroughly concurs.
He forces himself to eat a bit more to help along the healing and then teaches Eleanor how to cast spells of protection on their small craft. Her magic is sloppy and imprecise, but all his power is concentrating on the healing, so it will have to do.
They settle together in the bow of the skiff, waiting for the Convergence to pass or the universe to be destroyed. Eleanor's hand once more rests over his latest scar, her magic warm and healing.
"I really hate this realm," Eleanor says again, scowling at the rapidly darkening sky. "The universe might end tomorrow and there are too many clouds to even see the stars."
Loki loses the fight to keep his eyes open, but her indignation makes him grin. "Did I once show you the stars?" he asks.
"You don't remember?"
"I find it difficult to determine what is true and what is a dream from that time in my life."
Against his side, Eleanor shivers. "You showed me the stars in the bunker, once. I liked you that night."
"I would show you more," he murmurs, feeling warm and content with Eleanor's hand on his chest, pleasant memories in his head. "I would take you to every realm, watch your eyes go wide with joy as you take in each and every wonder this universe has to offer."
Eleanor shifts. He can feel her looming over him and he smiles, pleased by her breath on his cheek, thrilled to be alive to feel anything at all.
"Let's do it," says his wife. "Let's go everywhere. I want to see all my options before choosing where to settle down with our house by the sea or up in the mountains."
"Oh, yes," he agrees. "It will be a good life, Eleanor. A very good life."
He knows that Eleanor's agreement to his drastic plan was too easy. Her acceptance was borne of duress and relief to find him alive. In that moment, so strong was Eleanor's joy to find him healing and in pain, but far from dead, Loki is confident that he could have talked her into anything.
Tomorrow, he fully expects that the enormity of Loki's plan will hit her, undiluted by emotional exhaustion. If the universe does not end while they rest, Eleanor will come to understand that agreeing to Loki's plan means forsaking all others. Thor, Jane, her family, Darcy Lewis, Tony Stark, Steve Rodgers, and even the Lady Sif will think her dead, and Loki very much doubts Eleanor will willingly cause them more pain.
She will change her mind.
Rather than dwell on all currently standing between them and this life that he wants, he imagines Eleanor's reactions as she beholds trees triple the size of Midgard's tallest buildings and great crystal spires found under leagues of earth.
Eleanor strokes his hair and he drifts off, images of a very good life following him into sleep.
They very nearly miss the Convergence in its entirety and Loki could have gone on sleeping indefinitely if not for the crash that startles them both out of sleep. They sit up too quickly and Loki groans as pain shoots through his chest.
Eleanor is already on her feet, sword drawn, as Loki scrambles for his daggers.
"I don't see anything," she whispers, walking the perimeter of the craft.
They spend long moments in silence, anticipating an attack.
"It came from the other side of the ridge," Loki says. "Shall we investigate?"
He allows Eleanor to pilot the skiff to the top of the hill where he stabbed Thor. It feels like lifetimes ago. He supposes this is to be expected, as he did die and come back to life between then and now.
Wincing all the while, he settles himself on the bench as near to Eleanor as he can manage. Although much improved, his internal systems remain tender and sensitive to his every movement.
While yesterday he floated in a strange bliss born of relief and joy, elated by the knowledge that he once more evaded death, now in the dim light of what passes as day on Svartalfheim, Loki is left to face the full weight of this most recent trauma.
The first time he stood on the precipice of death, Loki willingly coveted the end, so desperate was he to cease the suffering, to stop hurting. He let go of Thor on the rainbow bridge and much to his chagrin, survived.
Even now, he cannot understand how.
He once more escaped death but, like the first time, Loki cannot even begin to understand his survival.
This time, he did not want death, but he could not fight his need to protect Thor anymore than he could refrain from protecting Eleanor. Given the opportunity to go back, he would not act any differently, although he would endeavor to avoid that spear.
Beside the physical pain of being run through with a blade, Loki recalls little of the detail, only the feelings. He fought desperately for his life and refused to leave Eleanor, but this does not explain his survival or the sensation of existing only in the context of the magic of the bond.
He would not leave Eleanor nor would he allow the bond to deteriorate, not with millennia of possibilities before them.
Yesterday this success bolstered him but now he is overcome once more by exhaustion and grief, troubled by how very close he came to death, to leaving Eleanor alone. He is no longer able to ward off his mourning for his mother. Thinking of Thor and the great lie Loki now perpetuates is equally sickening.
"Whoa," says Eleanor, her voice pulling him from his morbid contemplation.
Grimacing, Loki sits up a bit straighter to look out at Svartalfheim, following Eleanor's gaze.
"Is that..." asks Eleanor.
"Oh, yes."
Below them lies Malekith's ship, wrecked and smoldering where it crashed into the side of a mountain.
"Well, that's got to be a good sign," says Eleanor. "Right?"
"I would say so. It appears the Convergence has passed and Thor was successful. The universe is not ended."
The realization should bring relief, but Loki is far too exhausted and far too shaken.
"So it's really over then?" Eleanor asks, turning to him. There are tears in her eyes. "Like, this horrible thing that has been hanging over our heads for years is actually, really, truly over?"
"Yes, my love. It is over."
She nods and sniffles, steering the craft down the slope of the ridge, heading towards Asgard. The bliss of last night has left Eleanor as well, it would seem.
"I can't do it, Loki," she says, wiping her nose.
He closes his eyes and tries not to reveal the extent of his disappointment.
"I can't let everyone think I died."
"What do you suggest we do? I will stay dead, as far as all but you are concerned. Nothing you can say will convince me to give them the truth," he says.
The fight brewing here will not be pleasant. Eleanor can match him in terms of stubborn resolve when she wants to, and Loki can tell by the set of her jaw alone that this is indeed one of those rare but frustrating times when she refuses to see reason.
"You can stay dead," she says.
"Excellent. Where would you first like to visit, my love?"
"But," she says.
Groaning, Loki lets his head fall back to rest on the edge of the skiff.
"But," she starts again, "we have to go back to Asgard first. We'll go back to Asgard. I'll talk to Odin, tell him you're dead, tell him to tell Thor and Jane that I'm fine. And then we can go wherever you want."
"Eleanor, we cannot return," he says. "It is far too dangerous."
"I don't care," snaps his wife. "I'm going back to tell Odin that you died. I'm going to let Thor and Jane and my family know that I'm safe. You might have no problem letting your brother grieve for you, but I won't do that."
"I have a problem," Loki murmurs.
"What?"
"I… I do not want Thor to feel pain at the thought of my loss, as momentary as his mourning may be."
"Momentary?" Eleanor says, rolling her eyes. "Is that what you are going to tell yourself to ease your guilt at doing this to him?"
As usual, she is completely correct in her assessment.
"Or are you going to start all that crap about how you don't give a fuck about him again?"
"I put myself between Thor and the creature that murdered our mother, fully understanding the probable outcome of that encounter," Loki hisses, genuinely offended. "I obviously 'give a fuck' but he must think me dead. It is the only way."
Eleanor scowls and refuses to meet his gaze.
It seems Loki was right in his assessment of Eleanor's fragile mood yesterday. In that state, she would have agreed to anything.
"You knew," says his wife, her tone quiet and accusatory. "From the moment you agreed to Thor's plan you knew that you wouldn't go back to our rooms."
Loki closes his eyes, dreading Eleanor's response. "Yes," he admits.
"By faking your death? That was always your plan?" Her voice breaks by the end and he knows that she is recalling those painful two hours.
"No." He is pleased that he can be honest about this at the very least. "I thought to use the chaos of the Convergence to cover our escape. I certainly did not intend to die."
"You could have told me," she says. "You should have told me."
"You should have known."
Eleanor huffs and Loki sits up, suddenly irritated.
"Do you recall our conversation with Odin?" he demands. "When I was brought before him in chains? He gave me one last chance. One final chance before he'd take my head. This was treason, Eleanor, and he may forgive Thor in light of his victory, but he will certainly not give me similar courtesy. Not with Frigga gone."
Eleanor flinches and looks down. Suddenly she seems small and young and frail. Loki hates himself, for he is the reason she is shrinking so.
"But you can't tell Thor?" she whispers.
Loki's answering laugh is cruel, a humorless sound that echoes off craggy, looming rocks. "I love my brother. I admit it. But he is a sentimental fool who will force me back to Odin's mercy under the false belief that years of living as Odin's son will protect me. I know my brother and that is precisely why Thor cannot know of my survival."
"We are going back to Asgard," Eleanor says. "If you want to stay dead then I am going to tell Odin. He was your father for a long time, Loki, and I am going to tell him before we disappear."
"Fine," Loki snaps, having no choice but to agree with his wife's foolhardy decision. He is asking a great deal from her in continuing this ruse, so he will allow this just as he will keep her safe, no matter the situation they find themselves in when she goes before Odin.
Eleanor pilots the craft back the way they came only yesterday, back to the Realm Eternal.
They fall into an unpleasant silence, the only interruption on occasion when Loki corrects her course. She travels far too fast for his liking. Loki would delay their arrival, as long as possible, but he has no energy to pilot the craft himself.
He will need all his strength to keep Eleanor safe if she truly insists on standing before Odin.
Oh boy. Back to Asgard. Again.
One of these days I'm going to give these crazy kids a break. Today is not that day.