A/N: Hello everyone! Here's a surprise: An update in less than two months - weird, right?
It's been a little more than three years since I started this, and I look back on my earliest chapters in a sort of incredulity - anyone who's tried to read this all in one go knows how differently I was writing back then! Maybe some day I'll rewrite the first book to bring it up to my standards today - for now, I'd like to thank you all for sticking with me, some of you since the beginning! Here's to more years of The Trickster and the Telepath in the future.
Thanks to reviewers ferbette, Wildhorses1492, PrettyRecklessLaura, and Guest!
Without further ado... enjoy!
CHAPTER 30
Most of my sweet memories were buried in the sand
The fire and the pain will now be coming to an end
How did you get to save me from this desolate wasteland
In your eyes I see the dawn of brighter days again
- "Wasteland," Woodkid
She awoke, slowly, warm and content, peaceful – for the first time in who knew how long.
She turned, looking towards Loki, whose arms were curled around her – he was asleep, breathing slowly and evenly, his pale chest rising and falling steadily. A strand of dark hair fell across his face, and she brushed it aside, her fingers grazing over his eyelids. She kissed him lightly on the cheek.
The sun was streaming in through the window; she sat up and stretched, leaving him asleep on the bed.
She moved the sheets aside and climbed out of the bed, pulling down a loose-fitting robe of purple silk from a hook nearby and fastening it around her waist.
She walked out to the balcony and looked out, seeing the throngs of people beginning to gather hundreds of feet below for the coronation.
She looked back at Loki, sleeping peacefully, sheets tangled around his waist, and she hated to wake him, but it was really time to get ready.
She crossed to his side of the bed and sat next to him, touching his shoulder lightly. "Loki," she said. He murmured a little bit, turning his head. "It's time to get up."
He opened his eyes, a vaguely disgruntled look on his face that melted as soon as he saw her.
She smiled faintly. "Coronation day, remember?"
His hand shot out, quick as lightning, and seized her wrist, pulling her towards him – she landed on top of him with a noise of surprise and he flipped her over easily, pressing her against the bed.
"Oh, but I don't want to get up," he breathed in her ear. "I want to stay here… with you." He began to trail kisses down her neck. She pushed at him. "Loki, you're getting crowned in a couple of hours."
"Oh, Thor can have the crown, I don't care," he said, dismissively. He kissed her, feeling her lips move against his. "This is what I want."
She rolled her eyes as he continued to plant little kisses along her jawline. "It's your own fault, you know. You wanted the coronation the day after the wedding."
"Did I?" he murmured. "I can't remember." His lips found hers once more, and her hands moved to the back of his neck.
She flipped him over and sat on top of him. "I win. Time to get dressed."
He sat up and kissed her again, fiercer this time, his hands slipping up her back, pulling her close, and she let out a little moan before pushing him away. "Loki… we can't…"
"I'm the king, love," he said playfully, resting his forehead against hers. "Technically, I make the rules."
She let out a mildly exasperated sigh and rolled off of him. "Technically, not until you get crowned." She walked to the closet, pulling off her robe.
"Now that's just being unfair," he said from the bed, watching her hair sway down her bare back, her skin gleaming in the sunlight.
She glanced back at him and laughed, fastening her gauntlets onto her forearms.
He climbed out of the bed and walked up behind her, his hands skimming her hips. "I don't want you to think that I'm opposed to you dressing," he murmured. "Wouldn't want anyone getting ideas."
She smiled. "Same goes for you, Your Majesty."
"Mm. Very well, then." He planted one last kiss on the side of her neck. "Can't encourage ideas in anyone, these days," he muttered, and she swatted his arm, saying, "You're not allowed to have a mid-life crisis after being married for less than twenty-four hours. Now get dressed."
He pulled on his breeches and his undershirt. "I believe that I could have had several Midgardian "mid-life" crises by this point, considering my lifespan."
She rolled her eyes and helped him into his leather undercoats. "Yes, you're very superior."
She fastened his armor, adjusting the buckles and laces. He kissed her briefly, then frowned.
"Too tight?" she asked, fingers nimbly loosening the armor. He shook his head. "Too many layers," he said with a grin. "Care to assist me with that?"
She rolled her eyes. "Can a condition of the marriage be no terrible pick-up lines?"
He smirked at her and she swatted him gently; she turned away from him and twisted the dials on her gauntlets and her formal wear flowed around her, blue skirts weaving themselves out of air, gold flowing to her shoulders and her brow. And all of a sudden she was a queen, regal and beautiful as the sun, and he caught his breath.
"What is it?" she asked, turning slightly to him, but he wrapped his arms around her waist and pressed his lips to her shoulder.
"You are too beautiful, my wife," he whispered into her shoulder, "my wonderful queen." She laughed a little.
"It's true," he said, softly. "All of it."
She turned to him, her hands trailing up to the back of his neck, winding into his hair. "And, husband," she whispered against his lips, "you are my king. Forever."
He kissed her hard, pressing her against the wall, and she let out a small moan, her hands knotting in his hair. "Loki," she gasped, "we really shouldn't…"
"Oh, damn that," he breathed, and caught her lips again.
Two and a half hours later they stood, next to each other, in the chamber adjacent to the throne room.
Loki exhaled slightly, and she looked over to him, a faint smile on her face. "Are you nervous?" she asked, softly.
He sighed. "I thought this was what I wanted for my entire life – but now – "
He took her hand and kissed it, folding his fingers through hers.
"Don't be afraid," she whispered, softly, and kissed his cheek.
He smiled slightly and closed his eyes. "Never – not next to my queen."
The doors opened, and light from the throne room flooded in, and there was a great sound of many people rising to their feet.
Then there was the aisle again, still as long as it had been yesterday, but this time he was beside her, his hand laced tightly in hers as they walked towards Thor, who would be performing the ceremony.
She kept her face forwards, feeling Loki's light keep pace besides her.
I will be queen.
She remembered his lips pressed to the scar on her collarbone last night, on her shoulder this morning, whispering softly, my queen.
And now it was a realm that would call her that, and in a way she longed to return to the night before, when it was just he and she, and they could simply be without consequence –
But Asgard was soon to be at war, and this coronation was somber, like the wedding had been. Few smiles broke the faces of the guests inside, and though some hands stretched out to touch her cape, none reached out for Loki's.
She swallowed down her sadness.
Loki gripped her hand twice, their unspoken signal, and she touched his mind lightly.
Are you all right? he asked silently.
I - yes. I'm fine.
We don't have to do this, Alana – I promise, not if -
She shook her head a little, involuntarily, as they knelt before the stairs leading up to where Thor stood.
No, it's not that, it's just – I don't know, Loki.
Alana, please –
I just – I want them to love you like I do, Loki, and – it makes me sad.
He was silent for a moment.
I never expected their love, he thought, and a tinge of sadness washed through his mind.
But Loki, you deserve it.
They owe me nothing, he thought, least of all love, and then Thor began.
"Loki, son of Odin – my brother – heir to Odin Allfather, who so long guarded these realms and brought to them peace, justice, and order – you are called before the throne and the people of Asgard to swear your loyalty to the realms and to your people, alongside your lawful wife, Sigyn, daughter of Tyr."
He inclined his head, his eyes fixed on Thor's.
"Do you swear to guard the nine realms?" Thor asked.
"I swear," he said.
"Do you swear to preserve the peace?"
"I swear," he said again.
"And do you swear to cast aside all selfish ambition and to pledge yourself only to the good of the realm?"
He nodded, and said, "I swear."
"Then on this day, I, Thor, son of Odin, name you… King."
He felt the words sink into him as Thor placed Gungnir into his hand - like a heavy blanket made of lead they pressed down on him – long had he coveted those words, and yet now – now they filled him with trepidation. How had he not realized what they truly meant?
And then he rose and Thor stood aside, and Alana remained kneeling before him, her gray eyes holding his.
"Sigyn, daughter of Tyr," he began, "my wife… you are called before the throne and the people of Asgard to swear your loyalty to your realms, your people, and your king."
He asked her the questions, and she swore to protect the realms, to preserve the peace, and to pledge herself to the good of the realm.
And so he felt the weight upon him lift, slightly, as he said, "Then on this day, I, Loki, King of Asgard, name you my Queen."
And my queen now arises, he thought as she stood, taking his hand.
The doors to the throne room were thrown open, and they walked out of the palace, and stood before the crowds.
There was only silence – silence, and thousands of eyes, fixed on them – on him.
"People of Asgard," the herald announced, "I give you your king and queen."
There was some halfhearted applause, but for the most part no one seemed to move.
Alana, her hand in his, ran her thumb over his palm - he heard her voice in his mind, saying, speak.
What can I say? They do not trust me, they never have, they never will – it's hopeless, Alana.
Her fingers wound tighter in his. There is always hope. Show it to them.
He glanced at her, found her eyes, gentle and calm – his queen, his guide, and he knew then where he found hope.
He stepped forward. "People of Asgard, you do not trust me."
There was some muttering at this statement, and some nodding of heads.
"You are right not to," he said, which caused a larger stir. "I am flawed, and time and time again I have longed to lead you all to glory, and failed."
He took a deep breath. "I failed because I was selfish, because I fought for myself, for my interests, and had no care for anything – anyone else. I failed because I did not know what was right, what was true, what was good."
He glanced back at Alana. "But you know my queen, my sal-frelsa, my Sigyn. And you know how she has fought for you, saved your sons and daughters time and time again from the threats that war would bring to Asgard, to the Nine Realms. She knows what is right, and true, and good. And she is whom you should look to as your leader."
Alana's eyes were watery, her mind brushing his softly, and he felt a surge of love course through him. "I have pledged my heart and soul to her," he continued, "tainted though they are, she has taken them gladly and guided me back – so many times she has guided me back."
He reached out his hand to her; she stepped forwards and took it, fingers winding into his. "I do not ask for your love, your trust, your blessings," he said, "unless you give them freely. But I ask you – all of you," he said, pausing, "to trust in your queen."
There was a dead silence throughout the crowd.
He closed his eyes, briefly, and lifted his hands to his helm, pulling it from his head, and placing it at his feet.
There was a sharp intake of breath from the crowd.
He knelt, slowly, looking up at Alana, who took his hand and smiled softly. Thank you, she whispered in his mind, and he closed his eyes, watery with tears.
"Long live the queen," he said.
And there was silence.
He pressed his eyes even more tightly shut – had he been mistaken? What could he have done wrong?
And then a mass rustling and he opened his eyes to find the entirety of the people on their knees, and one voice became many, shouting, "Long live the queen! Long live the queen!" And he closed his eyes again, in utter relief, in peace.
Stand up, Alana whispered to him. They are calling out to you too.
He looked up at her in shock, and rose, slowly, looking out at the crowd, and he heard the roar:
"Long live the king! Long live the queen! Long live the king! Long live the queen!"
He glanced at Alana, who smiled, tears in her eyes, at the look of shock and disbelief on his face.
And so he kissed her, his hands around her waist, hers coming up to cup his face, and the crowd cheered and clapped, but he could not hear them, for there was only her – his queen, his sal-frelsa, his own Alana, whom he loved.
Weeks passed, and from early mornings to late at night, the streets were full of men enlisting to fight, of Einherjar training new recruits and of battalions being prepared to leave at a moment's notice. Loki looked down from the balcony, his gaze worried, as blades rung in practice and war preparations filled the city, lit up like a diamond in the dark.
He sighed. "What if this is all for nothing?" he asked Alana, who was lying in bed, drowsy and half-asleep.
"It's not," she said, and yawned. "Come back to bed…"
"He's strong, Alana, and his army will be too – much more powerful than anything we've ever faced before."
"Loki," she sighed, "you need to rest. You've been pushing yourself too hard – "
"I have to, Alana, because if I don't, everything will be lost. These soldiers – " and here he gestured to the streets below – "are training and sweating for this cause, because we've asked them to, and soon they'll be dying for us as well – "
"Loki," she whispered again. "You need sleep – we both do."
He sighed – he knew in his heart she was right, and knew that she understood him – for wasn't she training the Einherjar, and training with them, sometimes tens of hours at a time? Weren't there nights when he would only awaken at dawn to find her next to him, and nights when she wouldn't come back at all? And nights where he had to persuade her to take off her armor and sleep for a while…
He turned away from the balcony and sat down on the edge of the bed, smoothing her hair. "I'm sorry, love."
"Don't apologize," she said, "just – come and rest."
He lay next to her, and she curled into him, yawning again. "It'll be okay," she murmured, on the edge of sleep. "We'll find a way."
He kissed her forehead, whispered, "Sleep well," and closed his eyes.
She awakened before the dawn, and gently loosened herself from Loki's arms – he slept on, hair tousled, face drawn.
She sighed. The war hadn't even begun yet and already both of them were struggling, and if it weren't for the other neither of them would sleep at all…
She pressed a kiss to the top of his head, and dressed, and put on her armor.
He stirred slightly in the bed – she looked back at him, but he slept on.
She braided her hair back, and fastened her weapons at her sides.
With one last glance back at him she left.
Another day of training.
"We have fifty thousand warships, Your Majesty, and our fighting numbers have swelled to the greatest they have ever been," Freyr reported.
Loki inclined his head. "And for the ground assault? What are our advantages there?"
"If you still mean to strike first, Your Majesty – "
"I do," he said, firmly.
Freyr nodded. "Then we will want to march on Alfheim as soon as possible. Despite the efforts of Thor and Sigyn in seizing back the palace, the lack of leadership has weakened it, and it is all but overrun again. But there is a energy field around the planet that our airships will not be able to penetrate – we must go on foot."
"Tyr?" Loki asked, turning to him. "Are the battalions ready for a ground assault?"
Tyr inclined his head stiffly. "They are training like never before… Your Majesty. The new batch of Einherjar will be more than ready, I hope."
"Good," Loki said, sinking back into the throne. "We must march soon, before we can lose the element of surprise… what do you suggest?"
The Council was silent, for a moment, until Freya spoke up. "Two weeks would be most conducive, I think. Enough time to polish the army, enough time to prepare, but short enough that it will still be a shock."
The other members of the Council nodded in agreement, and he inclined his head to her.
"Thank you, my lady," he said, and then, "You are dismissed."
The Council bowed and rose, and left.
"Two weeks?" Alana said. "So soon…"
"I know," he said, softly. "But the sooner we attack the better our chances are – "
"Of winning," she finished, but her eyes were sad. "It's just that… I feel that I've grown closer to the soldiers, to the Einherjar, and – well. It'll hurt."
He gathered her into his arms. "I know," he whispered, and she buried his face into his shoulder. "But we'll need you, Alana, all your strength, if we are to win this."
She sighed and nodded, pulling away from him slightly. "Promise me you'll stay safe," he whispered.
She looked up at him, and her face was tinged with sadness. "I'll try."
It was a week until they were to leave and Loki was not sleeping well.
His nightmares were coming back in full force, dreams of war and battle he thought he had tamed, vicious things of blood and fear and the scent of death –
And Alana tried to help as much as she could, but though she was skilled in battle, her knowledge of war, true war, was only what she could read through other people.
Nonetheless, when he trembled in the night, she was there to hold him, and when he awoke, shaking, she would calm him, whispering soothing words until his breathing slowed.
But the worst nightmares were the ones she called the blackouts, for in those he was frozen in terror and could not move, and if she was awake to recognize the signs, then his mind clouded and pushed her away with a vehemence – and she would never force her way into his mind.
This was one of those dreams.
"Loki…" a voice hissed.
Thanos, mad Titan, stands before him, eyes gleaming with mirth, with fury, with rage. "Did you think I had forgotten you?" he whispers. "Did you think you had escaped? No… you have not. I am watching. I have been waiting. But now… your time has come."
He pauses, and then adds, "You and your mortal have been amusing to watch. She is quite lovely, is she not?" He unfurls one of his huge hands to reveal Alana, curled in a ball, wearing a simple white dress. She was not moving. "I promised you pain," Thanos hisses. "And you seem to love her so much… but despite Idunn's meddling, she is still so fragile, is she not?"
He closes his fist tightly, and then opens it again - empty. "These images are not dreams, Trickster. They will become reality… and soon. I will come for her. I will come for you." His glowing blue eyes meet Loki's, and a huge hand curls around his throat and squeezes -
Loki's eyes snapped open, a hand feeling his throat. He sat up in his bed, sweating, shaking.
Alana was not lying next to him.
He sprang out of bed in a sheer panic. Where was she? Had Thanos taken her?
"Loki?" a soft voice called out. She was standing on the balcony, looking back at him, her robe billowing in the breeze. "Are you all right?"
He ran to her and clutched her close to him, pressing his shaking lips to the top of her head.
"I thought I lost you," he whispered.
"What?" she asked. "I'm all right, Loki – I was just looking at the stars."
He closed his eyes tightly, one hand holding her head to his chest, one in her hair – he could feel her breathing against him, her chest rising and falling. "Loki," she whispered, "you're scaring me, what's wrong?"
"It's him," he whispered. "He's coming."
She pulled away from him, her eyes worried, brow furrowed. "It was just a nightmare Loki, one of the blackouts – "
"This was real," he breathed, his hands still shaking. "This was Thanos and he's coming, Alana, and soon – "
"But we knew that, Loki," she interjected, trying to soothe him, "we knew that he was going to fight back properly soon – "
"No," he choked out, "he's coming… for you. For us."
She bit her lip and turned away from him, leaning over the balcony. Finally, she said, "We'll be okay – we just have to stay together and we'll stay safe." She turned back to him, and touched her fingers to his cheek. "Right?"
"I can't let him take you, Alana, I can't – "
"Shhh," she whispered. "Everything will turn out all right in the end, Loki."
"I can't lose you," he whispered again, and she kissed him fiercely.
"It's all right," she said, softly. "We'll protect each other."
"Alana," he said, voice tinged with desperation, "I cannot protect you against him, I'm not strong enough – no one is strong enough, and he wants you, he wants to use you, and – and – I need to keep you safe, but I can't - "
"Loki, calm down," she said, her hand on his chest, rising and falling rapidly, her eyes worried. "Just relax, I'm safe, okay? I'm here – "
"Alana, I cannot allow you to die!" he shouted, his hand running through his hair. "If you are gone then how – how am I supposed – how am I supposed to lead a million people through this damned war by myself, Alana? I'm not strong enough, I never have been, and if – and if – if I were to die you could carry on, but if I were to lose you - "
His whole body was wracked with shudders, now, and he sank to the floor. "I can't let you die," he whispered, and she was there, holding him as he cried, her arms around him.
"I'm here," she whispered, stroking his hair. "I'm safe, Loki, and I – I can't see the future, but we're strong together, Loki. We can get through this, I know it."
He pressed his head into her shoulder. "I can't lose you," he whispered again, brokenly, and she kissed the top of his head and held him.
After a while, when he was calmer, when he had stopped trembling, she led him back to the bed, and pulled the sheets over him, and curled up beside him.
"It's okay," she whispered to him, as he faded into sleep once again. "I'm here."
He awoke in the morning to find her still asleep next to him, her fingers pressed against his chest, and his heart ached with what he knew he had to do.
It was a day before they were due to leave.
Final preparations were being made, the horses ready and loaded with gear, the Einherjar sparring loosely, their final time sparring with opponents that never struck the killing blow.
Loki was busy approving things like mad – map changes, campsite changes, weapons loading, but whenever he strode by the training field and saw her, he slowed, watching as her braid whipped over her shoulder and her knives flashed as she took on Einherjar three times her size.
He turned his eyes away and his strides grew longer as he hastened back towards the palace.
He was not proud of what he was going to do, but he would do it nonetheless.
It was early in the evening when Alana dismissed the Einherjar, telling them to get some sleep – they bowed to her and nodded, but she had no doubt that for many it would be a night of drinking and last revels.
She made her way back into the palace, nodding to lords and ladies who curtseyed as she approached – that would never cease to feel strange, that sight.
She closed the door to their chambers and sighed in relief, unbraiding her hair as her armor flowed away.
Her breeches and undershirt were covered in dirt and soaked in sweat – as she undressed a maid came in to take her things to be cleaned. "When shall I have these ready by, Your Majesty?"
"We leave early in the afternoon," she responded. "By dawn would be best."
The maid curtseyed, and drew her bath, then left; Alana sank into the warm water with a sigh, knowing that it might be a long time until she would feel this again.
She scrubbed at her skin and washed herself, fingers combing through her hair.
There was a soft knock at the door. "Yes?" she asked, expecting the maid again, but Loki's voice, faintly muffled, said, "I'm back, love."
He opened the door and smiled slightly to see her covered with soap. "Enjoying the last comforts of civilization?" he asked dryly, and she laughed. "Exactly," she said.
"I might join you," he said, and then sighed. "Alas, there is still more paperwork to be done…"
She rolled her eyes, but smiled in spite of herself. "Of course there is."
"Then again, it could be put off."
"Could it?" she asked, teasingly.
He smiled again and touched her cheek, but his eyes seemed tinged with something melancholy, something she couldn't quite read. "For you, darling… anything."
His hands were gentle on her body that night, but his lips pressed against hers again and again, with a rough urgency.
He could feel her fingers spreading across his back, pulling him closer, and the weight in his stomach was almost too much to bear. Will this be the last time I hold her?
"I love you," he whispered to her, again and again, in between sighs and kisses. "I love you, I love you, I love you."
Let me come back to her.
He held her as she fell asleep, her bare skin warm against his, but the anticipation in his bones made it impossible for him to sleep with her.
She shifted a little in his arms, fingers trailing across his skin, and he closed his eyes briefly. Do not let the sun rise; do not let the morning come, let me stay here with her until the end of time.
She breathed in and out, slowly, evenly, her head against his chest, peaceful and still, and he stroked her hair. I love you.
I am sorry.
Thor mounted his horse the next morning, hours before dawn, leading his vanguard of Einherjar to where they waited to be transported via the Bifrost.
The mood was somber, amongst all the soldiers, for it all seemed real, now – that an hour or two from now they would be on Alfheim, where they would remain, until the battle was won – or until it was lost.
The soldiers began vanishing in flashes of rainbow light – transported by Heimdall to where they would begin to set up their camp, their base.
More and more vanished until the only ones left were Freyr, Tyr, Freya, and himself.
"Where's Loki?" Tyr asked, roughly. "Has he decided not to go to battle with us?"
"Mind your words," Freyr warned. "I'm sure he and Sigyn are on their way."
Minutes passed, but no horses emerged from the fog.
Thor sighed. "Leave," he told the Council members. "I will go and find them."
They nodded, and looked up to the heavens – a crack of thunder and a flash of rainbow light and they were gone.
He wheeled his horse around, frustrated – hadn't Loki told him himself to have everyone gone before dawn?
But then a dark shape, helmed with horns, appeared in the distance – he squinted, but only one figure pierced the fog.
Loki emerged, armored and plated, his horse prepared for battle and Gungnir in his hand.
His jaw was set and his eyes hard, and Thor asked, "Where were you?"
"I had to speak with Heimdall," he said, voice tight.
"Where's Alana? Has she fallen ill?"
"No," he said, closing his eyes briefly and inhaling deeply.
"But then what – "
"Heimdall!" Loki called, and they were enveloped – and Thor's stomach dropped – not because of the rushing sensation of being sent across the stars, but because of the feeling that Loki had done terribly, terribly wrong.
She woke up that morning curled on her side.
She stretched and turned over, her brow furrowing in confusion as she saw the empty space beside her.
"Loki?" she called out, pushing the sheets off her legs. "Where are you?"
She walked to the wardrobe and saw that his armor was gone.
Her stomach dropped – she rushed to the window, but no warriors massed below, waiting to leave for battle.
All was silent, all was still.
But the sun was not yet half risen in the sky and he had told her that they would leave early in the afternoon.
"No," she said, as if her words could prevent what had already happened. "No, no, no."
She dressed quickly and ran downstairs, out to the stables.
The stable hand bowed as she came near, but she asked him urgently, "Has the king left?"
The boy looked at her as if she were insane. "Of course, Your Majesty. The company left long before first light. As His Majesty commanded. But I thought you had gone with them?"
The world was spinning around, faster and faster, so why was she frozen to the ground? He had left without her, and his words came back to her, "You know I need you to be safe" and "I cannot allow you to die" and he had planned this all along, to go to war without her, and if he was wounded she would not be there, and if he were killed she would not be there, and how could he leave her? How?
Because he wants you to be safe, a voice in her head responded. But I need him to be safe too, she thought in desperation. I need him by my side.
And then, slowly, the anger began to set in – he had left, without her. Gone to war without her. Left her behind like a child. And there was no chance in hell that she was staying behind.
"Give me a horse," she said, voice thick with emotion.
Ten minutes later she was pounding down the Bifrost, fear and anger in her heart, towards Heimdall, towards the war.
She dismounted and strode into the dome.
"Take me to Alfheim," she said, her voice hard.
Heimdall would not turn his golden eyes onto her. "I cannot."
"I am your queen."
"My king has forbidden it."
She swallowed down her anger, and pleaded, "Heimdall, please – this is insanity, I should be there – I need to be there – "
"I am sorry, Your Majesty, but I cannot disobey my orders."
She clenched her hands into fists. "Yes, you can, Heimdall – you know this isn't right, you know they need me – you can probably see them right now, can't you?"
He finally turned to her. "I am useful to the realms because I am loyal, because I do not leave my post, because – unless Asgard is in danger – I do not disobey my orders."
"Is Asgard not in danger now?" she cried in desperation. "Does this not mark the start of the war?"
He nodded. "It does, Your Majesty."
"Then you are free to disobey!"
Heimdall turned away again. "Asgard is safe for now. So I obey – and I will continue to obey."
There was a silence, and her mind was filled with pain, and fear, and rage.
"That can be changed," she bit out, and raised her hand towards him – her eyes flickering to gold.
"Are you INSANE?" Thor roared. "You keep our best soldier from the battle? How many men will die without her, Loki?"
Loki closed his eyes. "Thor – "
"How many men, Loki?" he shouted, pacing up and down Loki's tent. "We need her! She's one of the only healers, and one of the best fighters that we – "
"She may be the armustar but she is still my wife," Loki bit back. "And I will not send her into a fight that she may never come back from!"
"Do you hear yourself, brother? NONE of us may come back from this! You cannot choose who lives and dies – "
"I CAN AND I WILL!" roared Loki. "I swore that I would keep her safe!"
"Loki, you cannot control war – this is madness – "
"Thanos has his sights set on her, Thor, he wants her specifically, and I'll be damned to Hel before I let him take her!"
Thor crossed his arms, shaking his head. "You tricked her, Loki. And if I know anything about Alana she'll be furious that you left her. Three seconds with Heimdall and he'll take her to Alfheim – "
"He won't."
Thor tuned his gaze back to Loki, slowly. "You forbade Heimdall to take her here?"
When Loki said nothing, he scoffed with derision. "You do realize she is a telepath?"
"She won't do it," he said, impassively. "She refuses to take over minds."
Thor remembered the last time he was on Alfheim, and the N'itouri's screams as she wrenched his memories from his mind, and how she silenced him just as quickly, and chuckled without mirth. "She has no qualms about taking over minds when necessary."
Loki looked away. "This is Heimdall, not some N'itouri drone."
Thor rubbed his temple. "You have to bring her here. Somehow."
Loki looked at him, his gaze hard. "I will not."
"Then I'll fetch her myself," he said and turned away – but Loki's hand was clamped on his shoulder. "Don't you dare," Loki said, forcefully.
Thor pulled away roughly. "You treat her as though she is a fragile thing you must keep locked away else she break. She is a fighter and a warrior – and even as we speak, Loki, she is losing her trust in you…"
Loki sank back into his chair and passed a hand over his eyes. "So long as she does not lose her life, I will endure it."
There was a silence, and Thor knelt beside him. "It's not too late, brother – we can make it right, together. She will forgive you, I know it – let us go back to Asgard, bring her back - "
Loki shook his head. "No."
Thor stood, shaking his head in frustration. "And if you fall in battle, what then? Am I to bear your body back to her and tell her that she could have saved you, if only she'd been there? Am I to leave her to rule Asgard by herself, to fight Thanos herself? You say you want to keep her safe from him, but have you thought of the consequences? You leave her alone and undefended on Asgard while we battle here – what's to stop him from invading the palace and taking her? What's to stop him from – "
"ENOUGH!" Loki roared, standing up, his face inches from Thor's. "She is safe on Asgard and there she will stay!"
"You will regret this, Loki, whether during the battle or after – and the later you go back for her the worse it will become."
"Don't test me, Thor," he said, and his face was cold.
Thor's face was filled with sadness. "Brother, what has come upon you? Why do you treat me as an enemy? I only speak for Alana, since she cannot speak for herself."
Loki inhaled, shakily, and when he spoke his voice was quiet. "If I have any good in me left at all it is because of her, and I cannot – I cannot let her die, Thor. Not even if I had to go to Hel and back to save her – I would do it, I would sacrifice anything."
He closed his eyes, his fingernails digging into his clenched fist. "She gave me a second chance," he whispered. "Loved me when no one else could. She is too good for this war, Thor – the fighting will eat her up alive and I – I cannot watch that happen. I've come so close to losing her so many times and – I won't lose her again."
"Loki," Thor said, softly, "you are losing her now."
He looked up, slowly, his face hardening again. "My word is final."
Alana's eyes glowed gold as she entered Heimdall's mind – and in spite of her anger, her rage, she gasped - because this was nothing like she had ever felt before.
She could see everything, everyone, her mind connected to theirs – billions of stars in the sky.
Loki, she thought, and he was there in her mind, arguing with Thor – "I swore that I would keep her safe!" he shouts in rage and she stiffens.
Enough of this – she needed to get Heimdall to take her to Alfheim, and now.
She wrenched her mind away from Loki, from the billions of thoughts, and into Heimdall's mind – old and growing, and weighty with thousands of years of watching.
But there was something burning inside of her, now – something in her ribcage, heavy as lead, and it was on fire and she gritted her teeth – she had to get to Alfheim, she needed to – but the burning grew hotter and hotter and she looked down at her chest and there was something inside her, glowing like a flame, brighter and brighter, and heavier and heavier – she sank to one knee, her hand still outstretched towards Heimdall in desperation – need to get to Alfheim – and the amber stone in the center of his breastplate was glowing golden too.
"What are you… doing to me?" she gasped, sinking to the other knee. "What is this?"
She cried out in pain and pulled away from his mind – the fire in her chest disappeared - and fell on all fours, panting.
"That, Your Majesty," Heimdall said, his eyes glowing like the stone, "was your soul."