A/N: LOOK GUYS. LOOK. I UPDATED. I UPDATED YOU GUYS. DID YOU KNOW THAT I UPDATED? ISN'T IT AMAZING? I UPDATED!

-_- I am so endlessly sorry for how LATE this chapter is. Truth be told, literally a few hours after I posted the last update, something happened in my real life that… well, kinda put me in a dark place for a while. :/ For the longest time, I didn't even have the strength to write anything, let alone edit the chapters I needed to (editing tends to take a bit more time and a lot more brainpower). But knowing that you guys were still waiting there for me to update helped me through it, and for that, I am forever grateful. :)

I do, however, plan to give up on the whole 'chapter-a-week' idea. It wasn't working out so great, obviously. -_- But I will update faster than this next time I mean sweet broccoli that took forever. (Unless life interferes. It happens when you make plans. -_-) I also have been working on a proper, non-fanfiction book for a while, which I'm hoping to get published… eventually. (I'll let you guys know if and when I ever do!)

ALSO! There is some good news! I have recently gotten a tumblr and a DeviantArt account! If any of you are interested in that, my name on both is the same as it is here: "YouLookLikeFOOD". (I will be posting links to both in my profile at some point.) I have been posting LokixReader oneshots and one LokixReader full-chapter story on DeviantArt, though all of them are mostly just first drafts (anything that I put a lot of effort into will likely be uploaded here on FF). There will also be a lot of my terrible sketches/ pictures, including fanart, pictures of my characters, and quite a few of Natalie, Loki, and the rest of the gang (most of them in MLP pony style because I can't human. Sorry to those who don't like MLP. [I DO, YES I DO, I ADMIT IT, I'M A PEGASISTER]) So if anyone is interested in that. :) (Please bear in mind that I have been writing seriously for over seven years and only drawing seriously for about two so the quality may be a little meh.)

AND! (Almost done, I promise!) On DeviantArt (and occasionally tumblr, I mostly just post whatever I feel like on there), I may be posting "Deleted scenes" or "Alternate scenes" or random fluffy/angsty/etc oneshots between characters (Whether those characters have that sort of relationship [sibling, romantic, etc] in the actual fic or not) on DeviantART if anyone is interested in that. There were quite a few scenes that couldn't make the cut, and a proposal scene between Natalie and Loki that I might post that I wrote (and made as cheesy as possible) a LONG time ago just to see if a relationship between the two of them might work out. So if anyone's interested, let me know, or just go take a look! :D

That said! Thank you all so much for your support, and a double thank you to all of you who have stayed with me through my terribly inconsistent updates. You're amazing, all of you. Here, have a long chapter. Hope you enjoy!

"I'm not certain I understand, Kiross," I said in my best, most businesslike tone. "Why are we here?"

Loki stood beside me, wearing his usual full Jotun garb, the same thing he wore every time we spoke with the Frost Giant King. I was in fairly neutral looking clothing, stuff that could have come from any world, with one major exception: April's sweater, which I had zipped up to my throat. There was a leather vest over it, keeping it from looking too out of the ordinary, but this was one of the few occasions I had to actually wear the thing; and by all the realms, I was wearing it, and no one would stop me.

"Something you mentioned before," a whispery voice said at my side; Iecera was walking with us. "A tale you told, of light and dark…"

I bit my lip. Iecera had a tendency to speak in riddles even worse than Loki did. You'd think I'd have gotten better at translating such riddles, but the more I tried, the more my head hurt. I turned instead to Kiross, hoping for a more easily understood explanation.

"You spoke of a magic you hold," he reminded me. "A light that was known to momentarily banish the darkness."

Confused, I turned to Loki for explanation. He immediately understood the king's meaning, of course. Stupid Loki being stupid smart.

"Yes," he said slowly. "I was wondering if you would consider that." His mind flashed back to the moment in which I had spoken to Kiross, and to Kiross' face when I had mentioned the vital statement that I was still currently oblivious to. Something I said had sparked his interest; and Loki remembered that, naturally.

I frowned, then recalled the remark in question; it had been so off-hand that I had almost forgotten about it; a mention of my glow, and how the shadows had shirked back away from it, even if only for a second. I blinked.

"The glow?" I queried. Kiross gave me an even stare, and the Jotun beside him- his advisor, as far as I could tell- eyed me cautiously.

Kiross nodded serenely. "I believe that is what you called it."

I considered that as we walked forwards. Ever since Steve, Kiross, Odin, Loki and I had all signed the treaty pronouncing the alliance between our respective planets/teams/whatever, Thor had been making regular visits to Asgard, keeping our worlds in contact. Earlier today, the Jotuns had requested an audience with Loki and myself; for reasons that had been unclear at the time.

But now, here we both were, alone, on Jotunheim. It surprised me that none of the Avengers had a problem with that; the two of us going off-planet, not under guard, talking with a race Giants that had somewhat questionable motives. But, with Clint gone… a lot of the doubts that continually lingered over Loki had faded.

I stuffed my hands in my sweater pockets, trying to get my head away from the Avengers, thinking over my glow instead; and the fact that Kiross had been so intrigued by it. "And what of it?" I inquired. I knew that it had momentarily injured a few of the Shadow Hounds; but it had been such a brief lapse, barely anything at all. I couldn't see why anyone would really think of it as anything… special.

"It is an old magic, is it not?" Iecera said in her ethereal, haunting voice. "Legends of Light defeating the Darkness are remembered by many thousands of years."

I frowned. "It's not magic. It's science." I replied… then bit my lip and reconsidered. "Or a very temperamental and questionable blend of the two." I shot Loki a look, vaguely accusatory. It was his fault, after all. I knew that Stark had put the glow in as an early warning system for the nanos, to let someone know when their emotions needed to be brought back in check; but since Loki had messed with said nanos, everything had gone… odd.

"Regardless," Kiross said firmly. "We believe it can be duplicated."

Loki and I exchanged a look. He thought this over for a long moment, then conceded without speaking aloud: It is possible. Perhaps, without the dilution of Earth science, it can even be strengthened. The magic I used to… alter them is indeed a very old one. Old, and nigh forgotten.

That's what makes it so strong? I double-checked. The older magic could sometimes hold hidden strengths. He shrugged mildly in response, and the Jotuns tried not to look at him funny. They were not as used to our silent communication as the Avengers were, but they were learning. Slowly.

That is why your 'shield' is so strong, yes, Loki concurred, ignoring the odd looks. Along with the blend of science and magic… but your 'glow'… it may be another story altogether. Science may be holding it back, not strengthening it.

My head started to hurt, trying to figure it all out. Finally, I pushed the thoughts aside. Well okay, then, I said, a little grumpily. It irritated me when magic did strange things, things that I didn't expect, things that I couldn't understand.

Loki hid a smile as we walked onwards. It had been a few days since… well, since everything had happened, and Loki's animosity had been fading, slowly, along with the bruises on my face. He was letting it go. It was amazing, really; he was actually letting something go. When you're talking about a man who once tried to take over a planet because of his jealousy issues with his big brother, that's saying a lot.

Kiross led us onwards; our passage through the city was noted by a great deal of onlookers, who were all whispering quietly. I wasn't exactly surprised to see that we were causing a scene: I mean, who knew how often the King of Jotunheim graced his subjects with his presence; not to mention how often Iecera left the silent, dark cave, in which she whispered her legends… And then there was the long-lost son of Laufey and his mortal companion. Put us all together, and we were bound to stir up a lot of crazy rumors.

And then adding in the return of Fraye…

I fought a sigh as I glanced around at our audience, seeing fear in some faces, suspicion in others. Still, I forced myself to stand tall, and to meet a few gazes here and there, keeping my own stare as steady as I could manage. I think I pitied them. I think I was frightened for them. A legend of untold power had come back after countless years to seek their destruction, and all they had in defense was an alliance with old enemies, and a small group of mortals who claimed to hold power. I could see how that wouldn't give them a whole lot of hope.

Kiross, Iecera, and the king's advisor all led us towards a massive structure in the center of the city. It was like a skyscraper, like the Stark Tower itself, carved from and built upon ice and rock, massive and daunting. Soft, ice-gold-blue light shimmered within a few of the building's cracks, darting about skittishly but smoothly. Slivers of that light ran in rivulets down its sides, fading in and out of existence, the structure alive with a magical heartbeat.

As we entered, the light, though still soft, grew in intensity, cloaking the entire inside of the structure. Loki lifted an eyebrow, very clearly impressed. Well, it was clear to me, anyway. I suppose someone else might have thought that he was still just calculating, just taking in all of the variables. But I knew that he was startled by the intensity of the magic within this place.

It was immediately apparent what it was: a Mage's Spire. A place where magic was studied, practiced. The magical equivalent of a science lab, with all of the tools of the trade, all of the research within easy reach. I whistled, not bothering to even hide the fact that I was impressed.

"Nice setup," I said under my breath, as though I did not intend for anyone to pick it up; but of course, Kiross did, and he seemed to stand just the slightest bit taller. Usually, he would have no reason to wish to impress a mortal, as that was fairly easy to do, but then, I was no ordinary mortal. I was the Child of Frost, the strange creature who had stood against Fraye and lived.

We wove our way through the Spire, through the rooms of ice and light. Everywhere I looked, I could see Giants and Giantesses, all studying from books, or practicing magic, old and new. They seemed less focused on the tricks and illusions than composed most magic, and more focused on offensive and defensive types. I watched them all with careful eyes, taking in everything, making note of everything, and always wishing I could linger for just a little longer, so that I could see , however, seemed to have a specific destination in mind; and after a while, we arrived in what appeared to be the heart of the structure.

Here, at last, the King halted. "Sigil," he called in a loud, authoritative voice. "Avalon!"

As we all halted, Loki and I exchanged a look, then turned to examine the room. It was crowded, floor to ceiling, with bookshelves. Most of them, however, were empty; for the tomes that they had once held were currently strewn about the floor, some open, some closed, some with the covers tattered, some with the occasional page ripped out and scattered about with seemingly reckless abandon. All of the books were worn and well-used, the bindings crackled and aged. The walls bore a number of marks from magic gone wrong; burnt and scoured, the ice chewed through by fire and the stone melted down, rivulets of stone showing where it had melted into magma, thin lines that ended in droplets close to the floor. Other marks were stranger, or less violent: a white lash, a smattering of purple, a bit of light in an odd place, casting an even odder shadow. I lifted an eyebrow. Some of these marks were real, but a number of them were created for show. And there were traces, here and there, of some very powerful magic. My heart skipped a beat. Loki was a rare exception in both Asgard and Jotunheim, his talents far exceeding most mages'. But this quite possibly surpassed even him; and in a far different, more battle-oriented way.

This, of course, made a bit of envy creep into the back of Loki's throat, but I brushed my fingertips gently across the back of his hand. Not so obviously that the king or his entourage would notice it, but enough that Loki felt the touch. Relax, I told him gently. Whoever these Jotuns are, they're our allies, remember? The more warriors on our side, the better.

He didn't reply, but he also held back any bitter comments he might have otherwise made. He carried on waiting for the two mages to show themselves. Kiross, on the other hand, appeared to be getting impatient, for he called out again, "AVALON! SIGIL!"

There was silence for a long time. Kiross looked ready to hurt something, but just before he opened his mouth to call out again, a soft, whispering voice stopped him.

"We come at your call, your majesty," it said, a male's voice. A Frost Giant emerged from behind one of the bookshelves, taking liquid, languid steps towards the king and bowing deeply, respectfully… but his red eyes danced as he lowered them, a wicked, cruel and insubordinate spark.

"You are our King, after all," agreed an even softer, more melodic whisper. A second giant-scratch that, giantess- emerged from behind the bookshelves, giving another low, sweeping bow as she stopped beside the first Giant, both of them standing and bowing in front of Kiross. I swallowed tightly as I looked at the pair. Immediate conclusions swept through my brain as I studied them, classifying themselves into their three most prevalent features: their smaller stature, their scars, and the fact that they were clearly twins.

My gaze remained even and unsurprised despite the tumult of questions that began to build up inside of me. As the pair straightened, their brilliant red eyes gleaming, I looked them over once and made myself content with what information I gained from that. The fact that they were twins was immediately obvious, even before you factored in their shorter height. Their features were very similar to each other, with the exact same cheekbones, same jaw line, same pitch-black hair pulled back in the same long ponytail that lay flat on their backs in the same way. Same eye shape, same deep blue skin, same dark patterns on their faces… the only things that differentiated them, besides their genders, was the slight softness on the Giantess' features. And, of course, the scars that cut across their bodies were not identical, either.

They were ugly scars, but not Shadow Scars. These were caused by the typical tools of the trade of war; knives and swords, bows and arrows, flames and magic. It was not hard to guess where they had gotten them, given the hardened look in their eyes, the hidden hatred, and their respective sizes.

Loki, it seemed, was not the only 'small' giant to have survived past what was expected.

Kiross gave them both a warning glare before turning to us. "Child of Frost, Son of Laufey, this is Avalon." The giantess inclined her head to us. "And Sigil." The giant did the same. They were just about half an inch taller than Loki, and they met his gaze with all of the patient temperament of a wolf. "They are Jotunheim's most gifted, and most powerful."

"You honor us, sir," Sigil said, giving another low bow, indicating groveling but fooling no one. The gesture was clearly born of sarcasm more than of respect. I could tell immediately that the Jotun King would trust this giant no more than I would trust a rattlesnake; and rightfully so. Both giant and giantess seemed to recognize that they were not trusted, that their satirically low bows and groveling were easily seen through, but they seemed not to particularly care if this was the case. A person could not be punished too fiercely simply for being irritating; particularly if that person was a very talented sorcerer.

After a brief second, Avalon took a step closer to me. There was suspicion and wariness in her eyes, but she somehow managed to exude confidence in spite of that. "And you would be the Child of Frost," she said, giving me a 'respectful' nod. "I have heard many things, mortal. I do hope you will prove yourself worthy of your rumors."

Kiross stiffened, almost as though worried that I would take that the wrong way. Of course I didn't. Instead, I smiled at her. This was a tune I could easily dance to. "You and I both, my dear giantess." I said smoothly, giving her a low nod in turn. "Rumors of power will not keep one alive against such a creature as Fraye; only power itself will do such." I matched the spark in their eyes with one of my own. "And you, also, are rumored to have great power."

Now it was the Advisor's turn to stiffen; clearly, he was more worried about the way the twins would react to an insult than to the way I would. Sigil and Avalon gauged me for a long moment, studying me, all my weaknesses and flaws. The tension in the air was thick; so much so that I could taste it and, in that second, I knew just how temperamental these twins could really be. Their king could only hold them back so much. I knew then, that they held no true loyalty; only to themselves. They did what kept them alive; and of course, they would have had to. Born with a human's height in a Giant's world… They must have had to prove themselves worthy of life consistently. And how could they trust someone in a world such as that?

Still, I didn't back down. The silence stretched on as Avalon and I met each other, eye for eye. And then Sigil snickered.

"Such interesting turns of phrases from mortal mouths," he said, his words slithering towards me. He stepped beside his sister and placed a gentle hand on hers. I instantly recognized the gesture; he was bringing her back into line, keeping her from doing something she'd later regret. She smirked and stepped back, allowing him to keep her in check. Still, her red eyes stayed on me.

"And entirely correct," Avalon agreed with her brother. "Power will show…"

"Where power is." Sigil completed the statement for her. There was no discernable pause between them, and their tones matched each other so exactly that it was almost as though one voice had spoken, from two separate mouths. I battled back a smile; twins could be talented at that, it was true, but I suspected that these two had another way of enhancing that particular trait. Telepathy was a very fun little ability to have when you wanted to freak someone out; something that Loki and I knew firsthand.

Sigil backed away from Avalon, who extended a hand. Immediately, Kiross, his advisor, and Iecera backed away a step, giving them a healthy, respectable distance. Loki and I followed suit as Avalon closed her eyes and pulled in a deep breath, slow and smooth. Loki could sense the power stirring inside of her and was again greatly impressed; even I, with my dull-to-magic mortal senses, could feel something in the air.

Golden light -brilliant, bedazzling, and beautiful- began to stream from her fingertips. It was difficult to look at without being blinded; I shielded my eyes and peered at it nonetheless, blinking a few times as they started to water. It was the same golden color as my glow, but not nearly so gentle; this light was fierce and powerful, a blaze as opposed to a shimmer.

Moments later, Sigil, his eyes also closed, held out his hands; a swirl of darkness formed inside of his palm, a group of shadows that twisted and writhed about. He flung them towards Avalon, and the light and dark clashed fantastically, with the shadows retreating, wounded and torn apart. Still, they gathered themselves together again, flinging themselves towards Avalon, and the light began to buckle and strain, wavering, dying…

Light and Dark clashed again and again, until they had both faded; and both the giant and the giantess looked weakened by the display. Shadow Taming was a very difficult and temperamental power, so Sigil's exhaustion was understandable, but seeing Avalon so weary sent a pang of despair through me. This light would be useful against a handful of shadows, it was true, but it would not be enough. Nothing would ever be enough.

We are wearing at the side of a mountain, Loki said consolingly. It takes collective strength, and time.

I looked to him and gave him a quick, sad smile of agreement. We both knew that time was something we were fast running out of.

Loki clapped a few times, very slowly. "Highly impressive," he told her, sounding faintly amused. "But your technique, lady Avalon, may profit from an assisting hand." He held out his own long, thin, blue hand. "If I may…?"

She smirked. The instant the two laid eyes on each other, I could tell that they had each sensed a kindred spirit. Loki, I already knew, had liked the twins immediately. They both had a certain cunning behind their eyes, a constant scheme in the way they stood, spoke, watched and listened. They worked from a seat of power behind the throne and they manipulated means to their end; that much was obvious to us, simply from what we'd seen during their brief interaction with the Jotun King. It was clear that he did not like them, did not trust them, but they had made themselves necessary; so there was nothing he could do to get rid of them.

Avalon placed her hand about an inch above Loki's. The Trickster closed his eyes-he recalled this magic quite well now- and Avalon did the same. Beneath their palms, the light began to burn and swell, to stream out from between their fingers. This time, I was forced to turn away at the brilliance of it; turn, or be blinded.

I couldn't help but feel a little stirring of pride for Loki. For once, he was working beside someone else-and a Jotun to boot- and he was becoming that much stronger for it. But as the light died down and admiration sparkled in Avalon's eyes, a new emotion welled up inside of me, prickling at the edges of my consciousness. Something that had been very prevalent inside of me of late, an emotion I didn't want: envy.

I was actually… jealous of this giantess.

What is wrong with me? I questioned myself as Avalon gave Loki a dangerously toothy smile. Loki took a step back and nodded in appreciation.

"A very powerful creature indeed," he said quietly, appreciatively, like an artist observing a masterpiece in a museum. Heat boiled on the back of my neck as I bit back the acidic taste in my mouth.

So what? I thought, allowing myself to cave into pettiness (and hoping against all reasonable hope that the wall I'd put between this thought and Loki would hold). I can glow, too. And does she have an indestructible bubble of death? I don't think so.

Immediately after thinking it, I realized just how stupid that thought was. This was ridiculous. I couldn't afford to be so petty. I chewed on the inside of my cheek as Loki and the twins immediately fell into conversation, talking over this new magic. I kept tabs on them in the back of my mind, but I was too distracted by these strange new emotions to join in.

Honestly, what did I care if Loki thought this Giantess was gifted? What did I care if he could appreciate another sorcerer's work? Magic to them was like a piece of art; and one artist could surely appreciate another. It was no big deal. It was a good thing, actually; it meant that he could actually see a kindred spirit in another Jotun. Perhaps he could see them as people now, as opposed to monsters.

For some reason, remembering that she was a Frost Giantess, that she was a Jotun, that she was just like him, did not make the envy go away. It just made it a whole lot worse. I bit my lip hard, grinding my teeth. I was thinking about interrupting the conversation and maybe getting out of here when Kiross stepped up next to me. It was clear that he could not talk to Loki, Sigil, or Avalon at the moment; they were all deep in their conversation about increasing the power of this light, of using it to their advantage. From what I could glean from it, they were all certain that this magic would only ever be a temporary distraction, to buy us a few seconds. But, in battle, a few seconds could make the difference between life and death.

"So what do you think?" Kiross asked; I had the feeling that he was being polite. Or maybe he saw the dark emotions in my eyes and decided it best to intervene before I did something rash. Of course, it would make sense to him that I might be jealous of someone like Avalon; he thought that Loki and I were –blech- in love. It would make a lot of sense for me to be jealous of her if I was…

That thought made my stomach so cold, and drop so far down to the ground, that I was forced to push it aside, shuddering as I did so. I turned to Kiross and forced my mind back to where it belonged. What did I think? Well… "I think that this alliance is the smartest decision our three realms have ever made," I answered truthfully.

He smiled lightly, wryly. The King himself was no fool; he, too, had a measure of cunning to him, one that perhaps rivaled the twins'. Still, I had the feeling that if the twins wanted the throne, it would be theirs for the taking.

I glanced to Avalon and Sigil, two thoughts striking me at once. The first: that perhaps they did want the throne, though likely not for themselves. But Loki was here, a smaller Giant himself, and living proof that the small were not necessarily the weak. And he was also of royal blood; I could see it, shining in their eyes, the possibilities. If they were to get him onto the throne, their lives could become a great deal easier; no one could say that the smaller giants were weak, if one of such stature was sitting on the very throne of Jotunheim, bearing the scars of the Shadow Child on his back.

The second thought that hit me: I had before me the evidence of three separate cases, three separate giants, in which their height did not match those of the others… but their magical power perhaps surpassed everyone else's. My eyes went round. Could it be possible, that in eliminating what they believed were the weakest of the species… the Giants had been depriving themselves of a different, and very valuable trait? Could they be sacrificing magical strength, in preference for physical?

It was possible. Loki caught the thought and stiffened ever-so-slightly as he spoke with Avalon. Within seconds, however, he had resumed speaking normally, and had tucked the thought aside for later study. He, too, thought it an interesting theory; and one that would have to be explored.

Discussions went on for a while about the separate types of magic, while Kiross and I fell into discussing strategies. I was not as gifted with such talks as Loki was, but I had been slowly learning, picking up a few things here and there. It was enough to get me through the conversation until finally, Loki pulled himself away from Sigil and Avalon, his mind abuzz with new thoughts and plans. I knew that his immediate next destination would be the library and resigned myself to being dragged along by him and his studies for the rest of the day. I also resigned myself to the possibility that I would again end up acting as his guinea pig. The indestructible bubble was rather handy for that, as Loki had discovered a while back. He could throw whatever he wanted at me without fear of damage; though it occasionally made him nervous to do so. He did not like the thought of an errant strike somehow achieving its final goal; so I'd taken the opportunity to work on a particular goal of mine; shielding something else with the bubble. So far, I could stretch the bubble around something else, but not include it inside the bubble with me. That was kind of irritating, because it made it impossible to eat anything that couldn't be pushed through the gap when the bubble decided to have a tantrum and not turn off.

We gave farewells to the twins and left the Spire a few moments later. As we made our way outside and into the city again, I noticed that the number of onlookers that had been watching us on our way there had increased. More people had joined in, trying to get a look at the current King, the Rightful Heir, the Keeper of Legends, and the Child of Frost. I watched the bustle of the crowd silently as Kiross and Loki fell into discussion. Kiross' advisor gave me a few discreet looks, but Iecera seemed quite content with silence.

A few of the King's soldiers had arrived in response to the growth of the crowd, standing guard as we meandered onwards. We were walking slowly, so that Loki and Kiross could speak, but my eyes were active, monitoring everything.

I can't explain what alerted me to the disturbance. It was more of a gut feeling than an actual physical sight or sound. The hackles on the back of my neck stood up as I felt something change; a shift in the wind, a tremble in the air… something. It felt even smaller than that, some miniscule worry that tugged at the edge of my mind. Something wasn't right. I knew it wasn't.

That's when I saw it. My eyes zeroed in on two Giants, standing in front of a third, whose hands were clasped around the throat of a forth. The surrounding members of the crowd had stepped aside to allow the confrontation to happen; clearly, it meant nothing to them. I could see from the guard's faces that this was not something that was exactly rare around here, and the two giants standing in front kept their view blocked just enough for them to claim that they did not see what was happening.

But I could see it. I saw everything. Saw one giant, far stronger by the looks of him, pushing down a second, shoving him to the ground. I saw his lips moving (growling out threats, I'm sure). I saw the fear in the other's eyes. I saw blue blood on his lip.

My eyes flicked around, to see if anyone was going to stop this, if there was anyone to intercede. I didn't know the details of this fight, I didn't know the whole story, this wasn't my world, I shouldn't interfere…

A metal tang filled my mouth, and I realized that I'd been biting my tongue hard enough to draw a droplet of blood. I saw the stronger giant kicking the weaker, and my eyes narrowed.

Frost, Loki's voice warned me. This emotion was so old and familiar to me that of course he had immediately recognized it; and recognized what I would do. He subtly repositioned himself, moving closer to me. Kiross was blind to both my anger and the altercation among his subjects; what does a king care for a fight between his pawns?

This is not your world, and it is not your decision to make, the Trickster warned me. We cannot risk an already tentative alliance for the sake of one Giant.

One Giant can make a pretty fine mess, I pointed out, my teeth clenched. You proved as much already, didn't you? I looked to him, accusation sharpening my stare. We were moving away steadily, the fight being put behind us… but I could still see it in my head. And if someone had thought to interfere back then, maybe none of that would have ever happened.

His spine stiffened. He turned, stepping in front of me and halting in his tracks, forcing me to halt as well by blocking my path forward. His eyes were steely. Kiross looked to us curiously, as did his advisor, but he made no comment, and I'm sure the king passed it off as a lover's quarrel. The Jotuns did not know everything about our telepathy, but they had probably guessed a few things here and there; or thought we had our own kind of secret language/code. The guards followed their king, leaving us a few steps behind the group.

"You're not going to do this, Miss Frost," Loki said firmly, his voice quiet enough that no one outside of the two of us would've been able to hear him. "We cannot risk it."

He was right, of course, and I chewed on my lip thoughtfully, nodding slowly a few times. I may not have been speaking for my entire world, but Kiross could take it very badly if a human just walked onto his planet and started berating his subjects. I couldn't risk this. Not for one giant.

So I sighed deeply, placed my hands on Loki's chest, and got up onto my tiptoes so that I could whisper in his ear: "Stop me."

And then I whirled around, quickly enough to slip out of his reach before he had the chance to grab me. I headed towards the fighting giants with a great number of eyes on me, but I ignored them, walking with purposeful strides, allowing fire to flood my veins. I did stupid things when I was angry, but at least right now, I had a reason to be angry. That wasn't always the case.

Loki sighed very, very deeply, burying his face in one hand. Watching me for a second, he took the few steps that separated him from Kiross and, still looking at me, said, "My sincerest of apologies, your majesty." His voice was weary and ancient.

"Apologies?" Kiross inquired, turning to him. "For what?"

Loki was still watching me with great exasperation. "For what she is about to do."

I ignored this exchange in the same way that I ignored the stares on my back, allowed the fire to burn it all away, allowed the world to converge into one space and one thought. The two Giants standing guard and 'hiding' the spectacle from the world immediately alerted the third to my presence; and he stood, towering above his victim. Blue blood stained his knuckles as, startled, he looked to me. I'm certain that no one else of high standing had ever approached him; he had no friends in high places. But he was probably one of those who had friends in fairly low places; and what use would the king rat have for a true king?

"Lady Frost," he said, startled and bemused, giving me a low, respectful nod that was almost-but-not-quite a bow. I'm certain it wasn't difficult for him to guess my identity; how many other humans roamed freely around Jotunheim?

I gave him a brilliant, dazzling smile, my best, brightest, and most plastic. "Is there a problem here, sir?"

He blinked, more surprised than ever. "No, my lady. Of course not."

"Really." There wasn't enough in me to make it a question. I tilted my head to the side, gave him a serenely unreadable look, then brushed right past him; him and his two goons. I knelt down beside the giant on the ground, who scrambled to sit upright. Crouched as I was, and sitting as he was, he still surpassed me by a few inches. I gave him a peppy grin.

"Three against one, huh?" I asked, shaking my head slowly. He stared at me with wide ruby eyes. "Bad odds. Next time, eh?" I gave him a wink and extended a hand to help him up. He seemed too startled to take it, so I pulled it back and straightened, looking around at the parted crowd. The entire audience seemed to have fallen silent. There were no more whispers, no more rumors. All eyes were on me, all faces towering above me.

"So will anyone tell me what was happening here?" More silence. "Anyone?"

No one spoke for a moment. I turned to the Giant on the ground. "What about you? Any word on what the heck was going on before I stuck my big nose in?"

Loki was watching everything carefully, readying himself for a fight, for an escape, just in case; but no one seemed offended. They all just seemed… confused. Here I was, a mortal with a strange standing with the King, a knowledge of an ancient enemy, and a lot of guts, standing before them all and stopping one altercation, helping one man, when there was a game of worlds being played. And I was being mighty self-deprecating about it, too. There were no insults being thrown, no blows, no punches… I was genuinely asking. And no one seemed to know what to make of it.

"It…" the giant who had been wailing on the other one hesitated, then cleared his throat. "It was a matter of honor, Lady Frost."

"Uh-huh," I said, and I said it as though I truly believed him. As though I was really listening. "Whose honor? Yours?"

"A family affair," one of the goons spoke up. "An old feud, my lady, it stretches across centuries." He seemed to speak as though this would make me understand. It didn't. I felt my eyes go stony.

"That makes sense," I said, still nodding slowly. And then my eyebrows furrowed. "But… doesn't your feud with mortals span across millennia?"

The entire world seemed to freeze. For just a split second, everyone was letting that sink in. And then the giant started backtracking quickly. "But… that was orchestrated by another foe, an ancient enemy… there was no reason to continue…"

"And you believe there is reason now?" I asked, and suddenly my words were infused with the same ice that was already in the air around me. "With a Destroyer of Worlds at your gates, the Child of Shadow looming above you like a plague, with Fraye herself intent on your destruction-!" A few of the Jotuns flinched at the sound of her name, but I carried on relentlessly. "You believe that you can afford old wars? You believe that you can fight both her and each other?"

Silence lingered across the world once more. I shook my head in disappointment, sighing deeply. Without another word, despite how everything in me was screaming to go back and just start throwing punches, I walked back to Kiross. He was staring at me; perhaps not as obviously as his subjects were, but he was definitely staring. I gave him a sad, tired smile and a quick, stiff half-bow.

"My apologies, your majesty," I said in a soft voice. "I don't know what came over me."

I remained half-bowed for a long time, until he spoke. "No, Lady Frost. You are correct." I lifted my eyes to his face and saw that he had turned to his subject. His face was hard. "There is no time for such old feuds. After we survive this, after we destroy the Shadow Child… then, and only then, can we afford to fight one another." His gaze was dark and full of his kingly authority. "Until that time, we are one world! One world, fighting in alliance; and we cannot afford to be separate!" His eyes lingered on everyone in the crowd, before he turned away. "We can only survive together."

He had regained control. The motivational speech was back in the king's hands, and all was right with the world. Loki relaxed just slightly as my hand slipped in his and squeezed once. He squeezed it back, knowing that it was all that was keeping me rooted to the spot, keeping me from taking this fight to the next level. As his subjects looked away in shame, or carried on watching us inquisitively, Kiross turned back to me and Loki, and we began once more to walk back to his palace.

Amid the crowd, hiding behind the spectators, Avalon smirked. Beside her, Sigil sighed very softly.

The mortal presents a problem, he noted, a mental thought projected towards Avalon and only Avalon. He did not share the same bond with his sister that I shared with Loki-two immortals could not do so, with few exceptions (namely Fraye and her world)- but the twins had found that their telepathy was more powerful with each other than with anyone they had ever met, on any world they had ever encountered. It's rather a shame, that he seems so… attached to her. She may need to be removed.

Nonsense, Avalon projected back, her usual melodic whisper now a purr in his mind. A King may need to be too far above his subjects to allow himself to become involved such petty confrontations… but there is no reason a Queen should not be involved in the affairs of her people.

Sigil turned a sideways glance towards his twin. So you believe they told Kiross the truth? That they are in love?

She shrugged mildly, her sharp eyes watching the King and his entourage as they left. Briefly, they touched on the back of my head, and I felt her gaze prickle at the back of my neck… but it was one stare of many, and it was ignored.

Their behavior certainly suggests as much; though there are other reasons for such behavior. A sly, fox's smile crossed her face, showing off two teeth that had been chipped in such a way that they looked pointed, like fangs. The most obvious of which, of course, would be…

Sigil, catching the thought before she completely finished it, lifted an eyebrow and turned to his sister. You believe they may share that deep of a connection?

She gave him a little pout. Oh, dear brother, talented though you are… you have always been somewhat limited in telepathy. She patted his hand a few times, and he smiled toothily, recognizing the jest for what it was; a jest. It was true, that Avalon was the more gifted telepath; for she loved it more than he, and studied it was a ferocity untouched and untainted.

I tried to search their minds, as I would all others, Avalon went on. Her fox's smile grew. And I heard naught but silence. I doubt they even noticed the attempt. Her eyes gleamed dangerously despite the smile. I can think of very few telepathic forces more capable of such a feat then that one.

Sigil chuckled lightly. And if they do share such a connection, then he has a powerful ally to fall back on. He shook his head. My dear sister, I occasionally wonder where this deviousness of yours came from.

Oh, here and there, she responded casually, airily, stroking the scar that ran along her forearm. And here, her words grew a little darker as her fingers ran to her shoulder, still following the scar. And there… she whispered in shadows, running her fingers down her arm again and onto the scars on her brother's wrist. Sigil gave her the most dark and painful of smiles in turn.

And so the rightful king shall return to his throne, he mused with dancing, blood-red eyes. He turned away from the crowd and began his journey back to the Mage's Spire; they had been following us the whole way. It is high time that true power held the crown, he added fiercely, shadows rippling down his arms, magic tainting his eyes.

Long overdue, his sister agreed, linking her arm in his. A spark of fire danced in the back of her features, energy gleaming in her blood.

And together, they walked back to their ice, and back to their magic.

"That was reckless, brash… arrogant!" Loki lectured, his eyes stern as he paced. Throughout the day, had been too busy with his studies of magic to address the earlier business with Jotunheim; or what I had done. But now we were back on Earth, and he had all the time in the world. "Entirely and utterly foolish!"

I admit, my smile was a bit patronizing as I slouched to the side, leaning with my shoulder against the doorframe. "Yes, Loki," I said, overly complacent.

We were in his room, and since it had long ago gotten dark outside, he had prepared for bed and was now straightening the sheets as he chewed me out.

"You could have destroyed everything that we have worked for, and for what? The sake of one giant? That was… that was beyond reckless; it was naïve, and-and careless and-"

"And something that your brother would have done?" I cut in, arching one eyebrow. He blinked, looking to me. For a second our eyes met; and after a moment, his stare softened. He sighed quietly.

"Aye," he said in a gentle voice, looking down again. "It was precisely something that my brother would have done." He glanced up to me. "You are too like him for your own good, Miss Frost. You would have done far better for yourself if you and he were the ones who were connected."

I snorted, casually straightening and walking towards him. "I honestly don't think I'd be comfortable with him poking around in my brain space." I remarked dryly. "And I really don't think that he has the capacity to lie quite as frequently as this link requires, wouldn't you say?"

"How very true," he mused, placing a book on the nightstand before looking back up to me. "But who would you be comfortable with knowing your thoughts, if not Thor?"

"Well, you, obviously," I answered flippantly.

"Only because you had no other alternative," he reminded me, his tone not quite so flippant. I realized then that this question meant more to him than I'd first assumed.

I shrugged one shoulder. "Well yeah, but…" I bit my lip, thinking it over. "I dunno, I guess Thor's a little too…" I searched Loki's gaze, hoping to find my words there. "Untainted." I concluded at last. "He's such a 'good guy' that he's almost naïve. He doesn't see the dark side of the world, not like we do, not like we can."

He kept staring at me, his gaze still quite intense, and I shook my head out. This was getting too deep. "What I mean is… He understands that such monstrous things exist, and he works to fight against them. But he's never seen the… attraction. Not like we have." I picked at my fingernails, suddenly unable to carry on meeting his eyes. "I mean… he can get the whole 'rage of battle' thing going… but he doesn't… he doesn't know what it's like to want to be a monster." I shrugged. "If that makes any sense."

"It makes perfect sense," Loki agreed, strangely dismissively. I glanced back up to him. The solemnity in the room had diminished, the graveness in his eyes evaporating. We fell silent for a while as he finished clearing everything up in his room and sat down on his bed. Seeing that snapped me out of it, and I shook my head out.

"It's getting kinda late," I noted. "I should 'go to bed'," I did a few finger quotes. JARVIS knew everything now, so Loki didn't bother trying to hide things from him; but he still shielded us from Heimdal, just in case, which caused me to roll my eyes. "See you in an hour or so?"

He nodded, still looking pensive. He didn't say anything for a moment, but as I turned away and started opening the door, he spoke up. "Miss Frost?"

I looked back to him. "Yeah?"

"Are you…" he frowned, not seeming able to find the right words. "Content?" He inquired after a moment. "Are you… happy with what your life has become?"

It was a question, but it wasn't his real question, I could tell. He was dancing around his words, as usual. Folding my arms, I leaned once more against the wall. "Spit it out, Loki. What are you really trying to say?"

He hesitated for only a moment. Then, green eyes ancient, he looked up to me and asked, "Do you regret it? Your decision to stay? Knowing what has happened to your life because of it?"

I was startled by the line of thought; though I suppose I shouldn't have been. My life had been nothing but crazy hectic emotion lately, and Loki, being Loki, would likely assume that was his fault, because he was a monster, because… well, because he was him. I bit my lip and thought through all possible replies, hoping to come up with one that most closely matched the truth.

"No," I said at last. "No, I don't regret it." I shuffled my feet. "I mean… yeah, I wonder, every so often, what life would be like…" I shrugged and laughed a nervous laugh, rubbing the back of my neck. "But I like where I am now, and who I am now. I like…" I laughed again. "Hell, I'll admit it. I like having you in my head. Keeps life interesting." I looked up to him and gave him a quick wink. He watched me, almost puzzled. My eyes went to the window and turned distant as I stared inwardly at myself. "I guess… You're a really great guy, all things considered, and ignoring a few flaws." I flashed a toothy grin in his direction. "And if I didn't have you, if I had just decided to let everything go instead of keeping you in my head… then right now, I'd be back at home, utterly clueless, while Fraye threatened to destroy the world. So yeah. I like my life. I don't regret it in the slightest." I turned my gaze back to him once again. "That answer your question?"

He studied me for a long time. And then, after a beat, he nodded. "Aye," he responded in a whisper. "That's all I wished to know."

I gave him a smile, feeling my face heat up. I felt oddly embarrassed, for some reason, and I had to smother the feeling as I ducked out of his room and headed to my own; good thing, too, because Thor was passing through the hall at the time, and he saw me head to my room. He gave me a smile, and I smiled back, trying to keep the blush out of my cheeks, and the disappointment out of my gut; disappointment that I'd have to wait an hour before going to bed, before being next to my 'other half' again…

I pushed all of the thoughts away as I went into my room. Ugh, what was wrong with me lately? It's like I had to be involved in every single second of Loki's life. I wasn't that kind of friend. I wasn't the jealous type, I wasn't the clingy type, I was just the ordinary type, who hung out with you and was always willing to do stupid shit with you for no reason other than the bragging rights of saying you did it. I was the type of friend who you whined about your problems too. The type who played video games with you, who laughed at the dumb things you did and then did dumber things to make you feel better. That was what I did, because that was all I could do.

But around Loki… even though he was in my head, even though I should have been tired of him… I wanted to be with him all the time. Just… right next to him. To protect him, to talk to him, to laugh with him… And if someone else was around him, if he showed any interest in anyone else, I'd get crippled by jealousy…

I groaned and allowed myself to fall onto my bed, burying my face in the pillows. After a few dizzying questions, all of which had the same clueless answers, I forced myself to shove the thoughts aside. There was no point to them, no use. I couldn't afford them right now. Loki was my ally and my friend, and we'd figure all of the details out after we saved the world. The end.

Still, I was absurdly happy when the hour passed and I allowed myself to sneak back into Loki's room. With Clint gone, that was a much easier feat these days; no one saw me as I closed the door behind me. Loki's lamp was still on; he peered up from the book in his pale hands and saw me there. He did not smile or greet me in any way; merely set his book aside on the nightstand and waited for me to lie down next to him. Then, carefully, he turned off the lamp and curled up on his side of the bed. I smiled to myself as I tucked myself on my side of the bed, knowing precisely how pointless it was for us to have 'sides' at all. After all, we usually ended up right next to each other by the time the morning came, anyway. But we still stood on ceremony, pretended that we didn't care about each other, did our best to keep our distance, even knowing that we never could.

"G'night, Loki," I whispered, yawning hugely, trying to turn my brain off (very unsuccessfully).

"Good night, Miss Frost," came his usual whispered reply.

And we drifted off into dreams.

That was exactly when I realized it. That night, in that bed, with Loki's arm wrapped around me.

I'd woken up in the middle of the night, startled from sleep by… what? Dreams? Nightmares? I couldn't remember. There were no sounds to scare me awake, nothing at all. I was just… awake. The sky was still dark and the world still silent, Loki's breathing still quiet in my ear.

I blinked a few times, trying to peer through the gloom. Silver shafts of star-and-moonlight peeked through the blinds, soft glitters of beams that partially aided my sight. I looked around, trying to determine where I was, before I remembered the night before. Remembered sneaking in here, hiding this great secret from the Avengers, just to be rid of the nightmares.

I took a deep breath, feeling a pressure around my waist; I brought my hand to it, trying to figure out what it was, and a moment later, I had defined it as Loki's arm. He was lying right behind me, curled up against me, fast asleep. I grinned softly. He was always so relaxed when he was sleeping, always so off guard. He wouldn't be caught dead like this if he was awake. It was just… ugh, it was just so bloody cute I could almost die of marshmallow poisoning.

I fought a snicker, not wanting to wake him. I could feel his breathing, steady and even, against my back. There was no fear in sleep, there was no danger, there was no monster. There was no such thing as 'good guy' and 'bad guy', 'hero' and 'villain'. The lines blurred and you could be as good as you wanted, you could be whoever you wanted.

I closed my eyes and placed my arm on top of Loki's, letting myself relax. It was so perfect: the world silent, Loki right there, no Avengers to shout at me, to get angry with what was happening, no Fraye to kill us all, for just that second, it was me, and it was Loki, and it was me and Loki, and the world was just perfect.

And I realized… I realized who I wanted to be.

I realized everything.

A thought came to my head. An errant thought. A random thought. A thought that started off as nothing but a whisper in the back of my mind, and then, suddenly, it was all I could think. It was everything. Because I realized then, I realized what the problem was, I realized why everything had gotten crazy, I realized why my emotions had been nuts, realized just why this was so damn perfect. My eyes flew open, and I gasped sharply. Loki stirred just slightly, not quite waking; at least, not until I suddenly pushed his arm off of me as though it were white-hot.

I scrambled out of the bed, covering my mouth as I found myself swearing, "Shit!"

Loki woke blearily, sitting upright very quickly, startled awake by my sudden movement, the panic in my thoughts, and the curse I'd snapped out against the back of my hand.

No, no, no, I thought, over and over and over again. No, no, no, no, no… I mentally cursed again, feeling stupid and scared and scared stupid.

"Natalie?" Loki asked. It was so reflexive, this use of my first name… did he realize why that mattered? I hadn't realized for so long, it was true, but did he? "Natalie, what is it? What's wrong?"

"I-I-I…" I stuttered and stumbled over the words, my breath hitching in my throat. But common sense took hold before I could blurt the words out. No, realms no, I couldn't tell him. If he ever found out… if he ever found out, it would be the death of me. My face started to burn and my stomach began churning, sweat beading on my forehead as I realized the terrible truth of that:

How was I going to keep this from him?

"I… I have to get out of here," I stammered out quickly, then raced towards the door. Loki was startled by the intensity of my words and movements; startled, and worried. He was standing and walking next to me before I could protest, and his hand gripped my upper arm before I made it out of the room.

"Miss Frost," he said firmly. "What is wrong?"

"It's… I…" I couldn't think of anything to say. Nothing was coming out. My brain was jumbled and my head hurt and my heart was complaining loudly, skipping and thudding and stuttering in my chest. His touch burned. Why did it burn? He was a freaking Frost Giant,wasn't he?

"I just… I need some time… to think…" I finally managed. Slowly, as I forced myself into some semblance of calm, his fingers trailed down my arm, releasing me. He watched me with eyes that shone with concern in the moonlight… and I just wanted to scream.

Stop looking at me like that! I wanted to shout. Stop looking at me like you care! Don't you know what it does to me? To think that you care, for even a second, about me?

"All right…" he said slowly, gently. "All right, Miss Frost. Take your time." He hesitated and fumbled around his words, unused to showing concern, unused to working with these phrases… but he managed to say, "I'm right here."

Damn it, you're the problem! I kept my tongue firmly between my teeth to keep myself from screaming these treacherous words, and threw up heavy walls between my thoughts and his, walls of pure black flame. I tried to give him a little smile, tried to act like everything was okay, that I was grateful for his help, but it came out as more of a grimace.

"No." I managed to hiss out, the words more clipped and hostile than I'd intended. I tried-unsuccessfully- to soften them as I repeated, "No. I just… I have to deal with this… by myself. Okay? Just… give me a minute to think."

He recoiled the slightest touch, as though my words had injured him. I winced- why did he always have to take everything the wrong way?- because I knew he was trying to be there, trying to help, and I knew that I was refusing him, as though he wasn't good enough… but right now I was dealing with my own crazies. I really couldn't deal with his too.

I wanted to make it better. I wanted to help him. I truly did. But the sob had finally made its way to my throat, and I was forced to retreat, whirling away and walking out of the door. Tears started to sting my eyes as I flung myself forwards, down the hall, hoping against all hope that he wouldn't follow.

He didn't.

I made it to the stairs without anyone noticing, and began running, running as fast as I could, up all of those flights. There were a lot of stairs in Stark Tower. Why hadn't I noticed before? Why did I care now?

By the time I made it to the roof, I was panting. I leaned my back against the door to close it, then slid down it until I was sitting. Closing my eyes, I curled my arms around my waist and struggled to pull air into my lungs, feeling strangely winded, even taking my flight up the stairs into account. And so I stayed, shivering, at the top of the snow-speckled roof, trying to breathe, and wondering where it all went wrong.

The snow was fairly fresh, not quite blizzard-quantities yet, but it was enough to make my butt go numb as I sat there, enough to freeze my fingers off as my hands buried themselves inside of the white on either side of myself. I shouldn't have felt the cold, I normally didn't, but tonight I did. I felt it in everything, in the snow, in the air, in the moon that rained down silver droplets of light onto my back.

After almost ten minutes of crouching there in the cold (ten minutes of freezing my ass off in the snow), I managed to pull my head together. At least, together enough to begin cussing myself out again. The swears stayed in my head at first, but eventually they spilled out into the open air, a breathless stream pouring from my lips of every word in every language that either Loki or I had ever known. And, when that proved fruitless, I then proceeded to call myself the word that fit above all the others:

"Idiot!" I groaned. "Idiot, idiot, idiot!" I repeatedly banged my head against the door behind me. Oddly enough, though, my stomach was hurting worse than my head at this point. "How could you be so damn stupid, Natalie? What the hell were you thinking? What was going on in your thick, moronic brain?!"

I slammed my head back one more time, finding myself shouting towards the stars, "THIS CHANGES EVERYTHING!" I slammed my fists against the wall behind me now, hard, hard enough to make it when I'd started to think that maybe we could work through this, I had to pull this crap. My stomach twisted again, and I curled up into a ball, whispering, "Natalie Frost, you friggin' idiot."

For a second, I let myself feel hopeless. I let my heart do little flip-flops in my chest, let my stomach hurt, let my world shift around me. Then I sat up and shook my head fiercely, forcing myself back into the game, forcing myself back to reality.

"No," I said out loud; I had to hear myself say the words. I had to. "No, this can't change anything. I can't let this change anything. I can't do this. I won't do this." I started rocking back and forth again, hair still in a firm death grip in my hands. "Can't let him find out… he can't know…" Another little sob. "Don't let him find out…"

I stayed there for a long time, the world seeming to turn on its axis around me and refusing to shift back despite my words. The fact was, everything had changed. And nothing had changed at the same time. My life went in a thousand different topsy-turvy directions, and yet it was the same as it had always been. It had always been this twisted and horrible and wrong; the only difference now was that I knew it was.

I stayed where I was. I didn't move. I pulled myself together and kept building up the walls in my head. I practiced not thinking about it, my terrible secret, so that Loki wouldn't suspect anything, wouldn't question why I was keeping something from him. Maybe one day, I could tell him. I mean, who knew, maybe everything would change again, maybe things would go back to normal, maybe one day I could look back at this and laugh. Maybe after we defeated Fraye we could talk this over and I could get over it and get on with my life.

Maybe.

Or maybe this was 'normal'.

What am I going to do?

I took a deep breath of the snow-stricken air, the icy cold infiltrating my lungs. And then I did what I'd been wanting to do from the start: I held my breath and forced my heart to slow down, forced my hands to stop trembling, forced the tears to stop.

You're going to do what you always do, I ordered myself. You're going to accept it. You're going to live with it. And you're not going to let it cripple you. You're going to go on with your life as though nothing is wrong and you're going to deal with it.

It took a number of repeats of this mantra- and about a thousand more breaths- before I could make myself believe it. Before I could refocus my thoughts into that goal. Finally, however, I had my brain in a more serene, less addled place. My breathing had steadied. My heart rate had slowed. My hands were still.

I let myself sit there for a few more minutes, just to be sure, before carefully pulling myself upright. I stood and turned around, heading back inside as I realized just how cold I was.

I took the stairs down to my room at a slow shuffle, moving lethargically and oddly methodically, plugging the keycode into the pad by my door and closing it behind me. I pulled off my now-wet-from-snow-pjs and threw on a newer, warmer pair; a pair I'd been neglecting because, really, who needed long sleeves anymore? I didn't get cold, not like this… this was foreign to me, alien, as alien as Loki himself…

And he's an alien, too… gah, mom would have a fit.

Despite everything, I had to snicker at that. It was a painful laugh, a little hysterical, and I stopped moving halfway through changing so that I could battle it back. After a moment, I had my emotions under tight control again, and I finished, now a lot warmer inside of the heated Tower, ankle-length PJ pants, and long-sleeved shirt. On second thought, I went down to the laundry room and pulled out April's sweater, now dried from where I had worn it in Jotunheim. I put it on quickly, noting somewhere in the back of my mind that it no longer smelled like her.

April…

What are you thinking? Dammit, Frost, he killed her. What in the name of all the nine realms is wrong with you? You sick, twisted piece of garbage!

I closed my eyes and sighed deeply, hugging my dead friend's sweater closer to myself. It stung to know that I no longer knew for certain what she would say about this. I no longer knew if she would be angry at me for what I'd become, or be entirely okay with how my life had turned out. I had made all of these decisions for her. But where they had led me… I thought she might hate me for that. And it scared me to death.

I took another long moment to banish these thoughts-they'd get me nowhere for now- and I headed back to Loki's room, taking the long route with the stairs again. I measured each step before I took it, making sure that I was ready for whatever confrontation Loki had prepared, for whatever argument he had planned. Hugging myself one more time, imagining that April's sweater was some kind of final embrace, I steeled myself and went inside of the Trickster's room.

The light was on. He was waiting. His mind was distanced from mine, and he was trying to read without succeeding. Trying to give me the space that I had asked for. His green eyes shone in the soft yellow lamplight, his black, usually-so-impeccable hair now messy, countless strands out of place. His handsome features were plastered in an expression of… well, it looked a lot like concern. Like he cared. It made my gut twist, but I was ready for it; and I rolled with it, strolling inside of the room almost casually.

I got into my side of the bed and pulled the covers up to my throat. Damn, it was so cold. Loki looked to me as I turned away from him, as I curled up under the sheets and stared at the wall.

He gave it a few seconds, waiting in silence, before closing the book and setting it aside. "Nothing?" he inquired with just the mildest bite of acid. "You have nothing to say?"

I closed my eyes. "Nope."

He frowned. "Natalie…"

"Please, Loki," I cut him off. He stopped, surprised by the rawness of my voice. "Just… let it go?"

There must have been something in my words; maybe something that scared him, because he shut up and swallowed painfully. But he didn't turn off the light. He didn't try to go back to sleep.

I sighed heavily, knowing that he was still trying to wait me out. Turning to him, I admitted, a little weakly, "I just… had a bit of a moment. My emotions got a little out of control. What with everything that's been happening lately…" I made very certain to not lie, to be vague, as I shrugged helplessly. "I just needed a little time to work it out. I'm fine now."

His eyes narrowed on me, calculating. Finally, however, he turned away. "If you insist," he said breezily, turning off the lamp, pulling up the covers. He turned away from me completely, silent and brooding. I sighed deeply to myself, accepting the fact that he was a little bit angry at me. That was okay. It was better than him knowing the truth.

I turned away from him again and tucked my arm under my pillow, curling into a ball to try and get warmer. I was shivering again, violently so. The entire world just seemed to have turned to ice.

"You're freezing," Loki noted, suddenly beside me again, hand hovering above my shoulder. I pulled away quickly before he could set it down, before he could try and comfort me.

"It's nothing," I said a little too quickly.

He scowled in the darkness; I could feel the expression on his face, even if I could not see it in the empty blackness. "Frost, if you are struck with yet another fever..."

I smiled weakly. It wouldn't have been the first time that my numbness to cold had gotten me sick. And while Loki would not catch said cold from me, it was still pretty miserable to have me all sick, my sinuses stuffed and my head feeling like a puffy balloon, while I was in his brain. They didn't have colds in Asgard, not like we did, and he did not find the experience particularly pleasant. "I'm fine," I whispered, trying to move further away from him. My heart was starting to pound again. And the more concern he showed, in his weird, twisted, Loki kind of way, the worse it got. And his close proximity wasn't exactly helping, either. "I'll… I'll be okay."

His scowl deepened. But finally, he turned away from me. After a long moment of silence, however, he sighed and turned onto his back, so that he could reach his hand out towards me.

My willpower was not strong enough to keep me from also turning. But I turned all the way around to face him, and accepted his hand in return. Tears springing unbidden to my eyes once again, I brought said hand up to my cheek, his cold fingers slowly warming in my hold, and closed my eyes, pillowing my face against his palm. He didn't protest, didn't react in the slightest, even when a single tear trickled out of the corner of my eye and landed on his fingertips. Worry stirred in the back of his mind, but I managed to ignore it as, my stomach still twisting, I found my way back into dreams once again.

"WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?!"

I bolted upright, startled out of sleep by the sound of someone's shouting voice. I blinked blearily, trying to find the source, trying to determine where the threat came from, how great the danger was. My heart had already decided that now was a good time to try and escape my ribcage, and was battering against it like a desperate convict might do to the bars in his cell. Loki immediately stiffened at my side and- unlike me- was immediately aware of why we should be worried; I was sleeping in the Trickster's bed, and that shouting voice did not belong to someone who was aware of our arrangement.

This thought in mind, I turned my gaze to the door, where Tony Stark was marching inside with hell-hath-no-fury written in his eyes. Loki scrambled back just a touch, trying to maintain his dignity, but given the fact that he'd just woken up and that Stark looked ready to murder something, that was a somewhat difficult task.

I, of course, was less than pleased to see Stark's accusatory mug first thing in the morning. But given everything that had happened to me the night before, it just seemed like insult to injury. And what was worse? I had a headache, and my nose was stuffed. So I probably had caught that fever after all.

Dear Universe, I inwardly grumbled. There are no words in any dictionary to describe how much you suck right now. Sincerely, Natalie Frost.

"You explain yourself in the next ten seconds, Cow Man, or I bury you deep." Stark jabbed a condemning finger in Loki's face. "JARVIS! Get the suit here, now!"

"As you wish, sir."

I shoved Tony's hand aside, out of Loki's face. "Oh, chill out, Metal Breath. It's his room, isn't it?" I ran a hand down my face, trying to wake myself up. "Kinda indicates that I came here of my own free will or something."

Tony sputtered. He stared. He downright ogled. The suit made it into the room, walking on two legs as though Stark still inhabited it, and Steve made it in a moment later, following the suit.

"What's going on he-" Soldier Boy started, then cut himself off as he saw me and Loki, still sitting next to each other, still in the same bed.

Fan-flipping-tastic.

"Tell me you're not saying what I think you're saying, Nat!" Tony whined, pleading, as I rolled out of bed and stretched my spine out as casually as I could manage. Steve kept staring at us like: "Does not compute". Loki was taking my cue and acting as though nothing was wrong, trying to keep himself from being shot, stabbed, or otherwise made dead. He even managed to keep his mouth shut, amazingly.

"Tell me you are not- quite literally- sleeping with the enemy!" Tony shouted, stalking after me as I casually meandered over to Steve.

"Oh, come on, Stark!" I snapped. "Don't say it like that; it makes everything sound worse than it is!" Rogers had gone absolutely sheet-white. I maneuvered myself behind him. "And there are innocent ears about!" I added, clapping my hands over Steve's ears. He was still looking pretty bloodless, even when he managed to shake me off, and I gave him a sad look. "Sorry you had to hear that, Liberty Lad; you know how he is."

Rogers stared at me. Tony stared at me. Heck, even Loki stared at me, taken aback by the strange (and almost self-destructive) flippancy in my tone. But I was angry. I was angry about everything that had happened, angry at myself, angry at Stark for discovering this, and right now, I absolutely and utterly refused to give a crap. I sauntered out of the room, and moments later, Stark and Steve were both on my heels. Loki, however, remained where he was for the moment.

"So you're not sleeping with him?" Tony double-checked warily.

"Depends on your definition of 'sleeping'," I retorted, a sharp edge in my words. "Because with you, I'm certain it means the worst possible thing." At their nervous, stunned silence, I turned and started walking backwards, so that I could face them. "Oh, puh-lease. Exactly how stupid do you think I am, Stark?" I scoffed, rolling my eyes. "We sleep next to each other. It gets rid of the nightmares. That's it."

Tony waved the suit away with a harshly dismissive hand as it continued to trail after him like a lost puppy. "And exactly how long has that been going on?" He demanded, folding his arms over his chest.

I shrugged carelessly, turning around to walk forwards again. "A few weeks? I dunno, since Loki got that injury in his side." I glanced back at him over my shoulder. "Does it matter?"

"Of course it matters!" Stark exploded. Steve still looked like he was going to pass out. "You didn't think to even… mention this? He is the bad guy, in case you've forgotten!"

My response to that- a wordless sound that ripped its way out of my throat- was not human. I'd made it to the bathroom by this point, so I marched inside, whirled on Stark, and snapped out a few curses that just made Steve go even paler before slamming the door in the two Avengers' faces. I had just intended to wash my face and go back out, to confront them and carry on this conversation, but then I heard Tony yelling at the Tower: "They've been doing this for weeks, JARVIS! Why wasn't I informed?!"

To his eternal credit, the machine answered, "My apologizes, sir. I was not aware that the sleeping arrangements of your allies was such crucial information. I shall remember it in the future."

I imagined Tony's face at that and grinned fiercely, but I couldn't bring myself to go back out there, to face them again. I couldn't deal with their accusations anymore. After all, I still had my own accusations, running about in my head:

How could you? How could you even think about this?

You're such an idiot, Frost.

I groaned, slamming the sink on and splashing my face with the cold water, trying to wash the thoughts out of my brain. I could still hear Stark and Steve chattering outside of the room, but I didn't have the strength to go back out and fight them again.

Feeling horrible for leaving Loki to face that alone- but not horrible enough to keep me from doing so anyway- I turned the sink off and went instead to the shower, desperate to clear my head. And, of course, desperate for a decent excuse to keep Loki out of my thoughts for a while. Throwing up walls between us both, I waited until the shower water was as boiling hot as it could get before stepping inside.

I tried to wash away the truth. I tried to let it flow down the drain with the shampoo bubbles, tried to clean it away with the scent of soap. I tried to forget what lay in wait outside of this room, to forget Fraye, to forget Tony's accusations, to forget the truth of what I'd discovered. I even tried to forget that I could not- could never- hide that horrendous truth from Loki. I tried to scrub these things out of my skin until it turned red and painful, but it was pointless. It was all pointless.

I stayed in the shower for a good twenty minutes, trying to wash the world away, but it was there, it wouldn't disappear. In a worse mood than ever, I dried myself off and pulled on my robe, brushing my teeth in an attempt to rid myself of the sour taste in my mouth. It didn't work. Even smothered with mint, the bitterness of my own crimes remained on my tongue.

At last, I gave up for good and went back into the hallway, where Tony was still throwing accusations at a defensive Loki. Stark glanced to me briefly before rounding back on Loki, shouting almost incoherently. Steve seemed to be trying to keep Stark in line-for reasons unknown even to him- and Loki didn't even look at me.

"Miss Frost, would you please explain to them that this was not my idea?" He asked, exasperated.

"It wasn't his idea," I said tonelessly, walking past all three of them, into my room, slamming the door behind me.

"Oh, like that's real convincing," I heard Tony mutter. I tuned him, the Captain, and the Trickster out again, pulling an outfit out of the closet and getting dressed on auto-pilot. I could still hear them through the door, so I didn't get any kind of silence until I dried my hair, the sound of the dryer making the sounds of their conversation die away into its roar. It was a twisted form of silence, but it was a form of silence nonetheless.

I continued getting ready without thinking about it, going through the motions, my head spinning, my chest aching, a fierce self-hatred growing inside of me. What was wrong with me? Everything. Because only monsters would do this. Only monsters were capable of it. Dad was right all along.

Strawberries.

I blinked. Where in the world had that thought come from? I blinked a second time and traced it back to its source; the scent in the air, the smell of the thing in my hand. Strawberries. I stared at my hand, at the lip gloss applicator that I was holding, and then looked into the mirror, at the light blush of pink I'd painted on my lips.

Why strawberries? I wondered. Because I never wore anything that even vaguely smelled like the fruit. And for good reason, too; I hated wearing anything of that scent for the same reason April used to love wearing it: because it drove Jekyll absolutely batshit. He loved strawberries; real, fake, he didn't care, he couldn't tell the difference. And if you were wearing anything that smelt like it, he would attack you. I'd learned that lesson the hard way. The very hard way.

So what the hell? I glanced back to the lip gloss. For that matter, since when did I wear lip gloss? I mean, yeah, sure, if I knew in advance that I had to go somewhere and do important ambassadorial stuff that day, I'd break out the makeup, look nice, why not? It was better than PJs or a ratty T-shirt. But I wasn't going anywhere today. I was staying in the Tower, just like always, around people who were used to me looking like a total mess.

I stared in the mirror. Well, crap. I had mascara on and everything. My hair was even… nice. I ogled at my reflection. I looked… good. I mean, I looked like I actually gave a damn about my appearance, which these days, I didn't.

And is that a necklace? Am I wearing jewelry?Like, non-functional, non-Bubble-controlling jewelry?

I took a step back, away from the mirror, then turned to look at the open purse of makeup that I'd pulled the lip gloss out of. I had a somewhat limited supply of makeup, especially seeing as I hadn't gotten the chance to go shopping in fifty years, so I pretty much knew everything that I owned. I rooted around inside of the small bag before tilting it out onto my bed, displaying a number of half-empty or near-empty containers, but absolutely zero lip gloss of this shade, other than the one still in my hand, even though I knew that I had about two others of similar hues, two others that were not strawberry scented, and thus passed the Jekyll seal of (dis)approval. The one in my hand had come in a pack of other stuff, and I'd never really intended to use it, though I did on occasion when I wasn't around my idiotic dog…

So if those other two tubes of the same shade weren't here… I strained to think back, back to the past days in which I'd gotten ready on auto-pilot like this… maybe there was a conscious decision or two… things I didn't really think about…

I twisted the applicator back into place, closing the lip gloss firmly, jamming it and all of my other makeup supplies back into their bag, before opening a dresser drawer and shoving that bag deep inside, burying it away, slamming the drawer shut. I groaned aloud and hid my face in my hands, possibly smudging my unfortunately impeccable makeup job. How many days had I done this? Enough to go through two entire tubes of lip gloss, at least… How long had this been going on? How long had I been this oblivious?

"Am I really in that deep?" I asked of myself in a scared whisper. "Am I really that far into this?"

I didn't like the answer to that. Lowering myself to the floor and sitting on the carpet, I curled in a ball and tried to think, wrapping my arms around my knees. It was true. I was in too deep-way too deep- and there was no way I could dig myself out of this. I was stuck. Trapped. No hope, no way out. Because I'd let myself go along with it, because I'd been happy to do so, because I'd been so ignorant, and now there was no stopping it, now the world was firmly rooted upside-down and there was nothing I could do to change it. All I could do was recognize it.

I tilted my head back until it touched the wall… and then bonked the back of my skull against it. Repeatedly. Softly, but repeatedly. "Stupid, stupid, stupid." I muttered for the thousandth time. "Stupid, air-headed, ditzy Natalie… you're gonna get yourself killed… get everyone killed…"

I sat there for a long time, feeling miserable, wiping the strawberry lip gloss off with the back of my hand. But there was really nothing for it. Now that I knew the truth, I had to keep acting, had to pretend that nothing was wrong, pretend that my behavior for the past few… how long had it been? Would I ever know? Whatever, I had to pretend that it was normal. That I'd been putting on makeup because I was bored, that I'd been happy for normal reasons, that nothing was wrong, that my jealousy was normal, that my heart didn't do funny things in my chest whenever I thought about… about…

I closed my eyes tightly and shoved the thought away. Nope. Not allowed. Thought deleted. I stood and glanced to the mirror, sighing heavily and retrieving my makeup bag again. No use in not wearing lip gloss, that would just look stupid. I chose a shade of darkish-purple-pink that was just a little too loud for my tastes, but I'd been so anti-strawberry for so long now that I'd been conditioned against it. Even though Jekyll probably wouldn't notice such a small scent, I still didn't want to risk it.

I gave myself one last look-over in the mirror, ripped off the necklace, and confirmed that yes, this was one of my nicer outfits-dammit- before walking out of the room with hostile, staccato steps. Loki was waiting for me. Thankfully, Stark and Steve were not.

The Trickster frowned at me as I exited my room, falling into step beside me with the utmost of ease. Our very footsteps synchronized, as they always did, and his heartbeat, steady and even, remained shadowing my frenetic, buzzing one. "Well that was an unfortunate circumstance," he remarked acidly. I didn't respond. I was mad, and he was nearby; ergo, I was now mad at him.

But, it seemed, he was also angry with me. He halted suddenly, his hand shooting out as he turned, his palm smacking against the wall beside me. His arm blocked my passage onwards, and he forced me to meet his gaze. Looming above me in an almost threatening manner, he leaned in closer, eyes bright with some unidentifiable emotion.

"Now, perhaps, will you tell me exactly what is wrong with you, Frost?" he demanded, each word a knife's edge. "Did you not once say that you would ensure no blame fell onto my shoulders should such a circumstance arise? That you would, in your words, 'handle things'?"

I crossed my arms and slouched against the wall irritably, not even attempting to push past him. I didn't want him to think that I was threatened by his childish posturing; because believe me, I wasn't. "Maybe I did," I bit out in response. "But we didn't do anything; so if they have a fit about it, then that's their problem."

His eyes narrowed on me, and I rolled my eyes. I had said that I'd fix this, so I told him, "Look, Stark can't keep his mouth shut, so when they tell the others, I'll take care of it, okay? But right now… I just don't think I could have done it without snapping someone's neck."

This obviously did not seem to reassure him. He leaned in closer. "What happened to you last night?" he asked, green eyes cutting down to my core, slicing straight through me, seeing through the darkness and the shadows and peering into my darkest secrets… yet somehow missing the darkest one of all. "You said… you told me you were content, and then…" he trailed off, looking… disoriented. And very upset to be so. He disliked being on the wrong end of someone's riddles, disliked being uninformed. I looked up to him and suddenly realized just how close he was to me. For the first time since the night before, that wasn't a problem. It was normal; normal Natalie and Loki stuff. Our normal.

"What is it?" he asked again, lowering his voice. "What is so terrible that I cannot know, when I already know… everything?"

I swallowed painfully. How many times had I asked him that same question? How many countless times had I begged to know the secrets he kept? How many times had I given up on secrets that I'd rather have kept silent, simply because it was pointless to try and hide them?

His free hand was curled in a fist at his side. I gently reached for it and took it in my own, holding the tips of his fingers with the tips of mine. My eyes were starting to prickle with tears again, but I forced a smile onto my face. "You'll find out soon enough, won't you?" I asked in a quiet, strained, painful voice. "You don't need me to tell you. You'll know sooner or later." I took a deep breath, steeling myself for what I was about to say, what I was about to promise. "And… and if you don't figure it out until after we defeat Fraye… then that's when I'll tell you." I squeezed his hand and let it go, let him go. My resolve was firm and my voice was resolute. "But for now, I can't lose sight of that goal. We have to stop her and this… this'll just get in the way." I met his eyes, brown against green, pleading. "Trust me enough for that? Trust me enough to know what I'm doing?"

He matched my gaze, his lips mashing into a hard, thin line. Finally, however, he took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and let it out in a heavy sigh through his nose. Straightening, he removed his hand from the wall, allowing me forwards, and I walked past him without another second's pause. He fell into sync with me seconds later, and we headed to where we knew the other Avengers would be. We had some music to face, after all.

But, when we got there, it seemed that Steve and Tony were still arguing about what had happened; the living room was empty of shouting people, indicating that neither of the two had told the Avengers what they had seen that morning. But our timing was still pretty impeccable because, only moments after Loki and I sat down, Stark charged in. His accusatory finger, very active this morning, was now jabbed in Natasha's direction.

"Tell me you didn't know about Natalie and Loki sleeping together!" He shouted.

Bruce was unfortunate enough to have been drinking coffee at that precise second and he choked, barely managing to keep from spewing it all over the place. Swallowing boiling gulps of the stuff down, coughing violently, he managed to demand, "What?" just as his eyes started watering.

Natasha, however, seemed unimpressed by Stark's violent pronouncement. Steve looked very exasperated with Tony as he walked in after him, likely having tried to convince him not to make this into a spectacle. Thor, who had been sitting on the couch next to Bruce, stared at his brother and I, his lightning-blue eyes overlarge and alarmed.

"That's a bit of an overstatement," Romanoff said coolly, moving away from where she stared out the window, setting her coffee down on the table next to Bruce's, folding herself into a nearby seat. Her movements were all perfectly casual, and her tone was as calm as ever. "And quite honestly, it's an overreaction."

"So you knew?!" That was Stark again.

"Of course I knew," Natasha answered tonelessly. Neither Loki nor I was surprised, though we probably should have been. But these days, we pretty much assumed that Natasha could read our minds as well as we could read each other's. It made things a lot easier. She took an unconcerned sip of coffee; Bruce was still trying to cough the stuff out of his lungs. Thor, sitting next to him, watched him nervously, as though wanting to help but unsure of how he could. Everyone else in the room shot nervous glances at Banner, too; though for an altogether different reason. How angry could coffee swallowed down the wrong way make a person?

"I've known for quite some time now," Natasha carried on, acting as though she was not watching our resident green rage monster out of the corner of her eye. "The Healers made a comment about how it was better for the two to be closer together, even while they slept." She turned her flat eyes back to Stark. "It makes perfect sense."

Thor and Bruce were still stiff as boards. "I repeat," Bruce said, clearing his throat a few times, his voice slightly raspy. But there was a great deal of vehemence in his tone as he said, "What?"

"Stark is being a drama queen, is all," I explained to Banner, skewering Tony with a glare. "He means sleep next to each other, not…" I flushed. Not even wanting to finish the sentence, I buried my face in my hands so that no one would see how red it was, mumbling against my fingers, "Ugh, I hate you so much, Stark."

Bruce seemed to sense the sincerity behind my words, and he relaxed. "Oh." He said, slightly surprised, before sighing a quiet little sigh of relief. I rolled my eyes. Sheesh, did everyone here really think that little of me? Did they really think that I'd see a pretty face and a sob story and just forget that he was a murderer? Forget the blood on his hands? Forget April'sblood on his hands?

Even as the thought occurred to me, sweat broke out on the back of my neck, and my stomach roiled. I kept my face hidden behind my hands. I really am a piece of garbage, aren't I?

Ignorant to my inner turmoil, Bruce and Thor seemed to have relaxed. Thor even laughed once, causing me to peek out from behind my fingertips.

"That was a secret?" he asked, loyal-Labrador grin on his face. As everyone in the room-Loki and I especially, my hands falling back into my lap- stared at him, he laughed again. "They are bound by magic! Their very thoughts are intertwined! Of course they would be beside each other at all times!"

For some reason, Thor's ability to be entirely and utterly okay with that made me feel a little warmer inside. He'd always been the most accepting of our link; even the stranger, more awkward quirks. I guess magic had always been a part of his life; it was easy to accept something that you've known about since you were a child.

Sensing my opportunity for damage control, I leaned forwards and gave my side of the story. "Look, you've all been having nightmares, right?" I asked, giving everyone a look. A few of them blinked, startled, as though curious as to how I could possibly know that. I rolled my eyes. "Well, you know Fraye's been messing with your heads. When Loki and I sleep next to each other, she can't do that. No nightmares." I shrugged. "Cause and effect. It's a pretty straightforward thing."

Thor nodded, seeming in agreement with me. Loki remained silent. He was not quite as angry with this breech in secrecy as he thought he would be; really, the Avengers had discovered so many of his secrets that it seemed pointless to even have them anymore. He stifled a sigh at the thought, but he supposed he must accept it now; his life had changed. Things would never be the same again.

He was more right than he knew.

Tony stared as everyone seemed to relax. The tension in the air had evaporated; save for what was left in his corner of the room. "So that's it?" he demanded. "I'm the only one creeped out by this?"

"No," Steve answered tonelessly. "Quite frankly, I'm disappointed that you didn't trust us enough to say anything, Natalie."

I shrugged carelessly, as though to say, what can you do? And Loki stepped in.

"That was not her decision," he said in a quiet voice. But, oddly, when he spoke… the entire room fell silent. There was a long pause in the conversation as everyone took that in; and took in the fact that Loki had even bothered to speak in the first place.

And then Steve nodded slowly, as though this was only expected. "Yeah. That's kinda what I figured." He sighed and stood. "If there's nothing else, Stark?" he asked, the words slightly barbed.

Tony sat back, looking flustered. "Really? No one else?"

Natasha raised an eyebrow at him, a faint amusement sparkling in the back of her eyes, but otherwise, no one replied. Finally, Tony gave up and stood, walking out of the room, grumbling under his breath about sneaky space aliens and traitorous pizza girls. Loki and I exchanged a look, and then relaxed as one. We'd gotten out of that one with a lot less than the expected damage, awkward though it might have been.

"Well if everyone's cool with it," I said, standing, giving Loki a quick two-fingered mock-salute. "Then I'm off." I turned and walked out of the room without another word, uncertain as to why I was leaving Loki's side, unsure of what I was going to do next.

No. That wasn't true. I knew exactly why I was leaving Loki's side: because I had to stay away from him right now. Because if I didn't, then I might end up doing something stupid. Something that I'd regret.

And I knew where I was going, too. The same place that I always went to when I needed to clear my head: the roof.

As I had the night before, I took the stairs, moving at a fast-paced jog to warm my blood and to thaw out my brain. I quickly discovered that it was still freezing up there, but I didn't let myself stop moving, and I had put on April's sweater, so that kept me from turning to ice. I ran around the roof's edge a few times, never stopping, never letting myself stop. Even when I got dizzy and could no longer run in circles, I didn't stop moving; just began the drills that Natasha had been pounding into my head for months now, the same movements, strikes and blocks that I'd memorized long ago. It was an old dance, one I knew by heart, and I fell into the steps with ease.

After a long time, panting with effort, I placed my hands on my knees and struggled to regain my breath. Of course, the instant I stopped, the dark thoughts came to plague me again. But that was to be expected; and I forced them aside with all of the strength that I could muster.

I stood there for a while, trying to breathe. After a moment, feeling a shift in the air, I straightened, my spine stiffening, my eyes closing. I took a deep breath of the chilled air and let it out in a sigh; it clouded in front of me, a tired fog that evaporated after a few seconds of life. "You know, Fraye, I'm really not in the mood right now."

Behind me, the Daughter of Darkness snickered. "Oh, no one ever is," she reassured me flippantly. She was sitting on a sliver of shadow, her pale, bare feet kicking back and forth restlessly, as white and lifeless as the snow beneath her. I turned and slouched to the side, leaning all of my weight on my right foot and stuffing my hands into my sweater pockets.

"Have you come to make fun of the little mortal idiot?" I asked, giving her a grin so wide it made my semi-chapped lips feel like they were cracking in half. "Come to laugh about how stupid I am? How I'm going to get everyone else killed?" I scoffed. "Surely you can do better than that."

"I can indeed," she answered with a shrug. "But what would be the point? You're already more angry with yourself than I could ever make you." She hopped lithely down from her shadow perch, the snow crunching beneath her footsteps. "No, I just want to congratulate you, for finally figuring it out." She snorted, flicking her black hair out behind her as she passed me. Shadows flickered out from the strands, flowed across the air, and died into nothingness with the gesture. "Took you long enough, dearie. I was beginning to get concerned for your intelligence."

My teeth started to grind together as she maneuvered behind me; I whirled, throwing a punch towards her. She clearly anticipated this; her hand was open, and she caught my fist in her palm before it struck anywhere more vital. A little smirk played across her face. I wrenched my hand out of her grasp and flicked out my fingers. It was like striking steel.

"And, what I really want to know," she said, taking a step closer to me, so that her face was less than an inch from mine. I could feel her breath on my cheek, could smell the ash on her skin. "Is what you think Loki will do when he finds out." She giggled lightly, that little twitter of a laugh. "You have to know that he'll use it against you."

Done. I was done. I was so damn done. This was bullshit and I was tired of it and I was done, done, done, and I pulled my hand back and threw another punch, because what the hell, why not, we were enemies anyway. She liked to just show up and have talks with me like we were old friends, we met up in bars and shared drinks, we talked about the stuff in our lives, and I'd been patient, I'd been tolerant, I'd gone along with it because that's what I did, I listened to my friends, and I listened to my enemies. But now I was finished. Fraye wasn't like Loki. She wasn't going to change. She was just going to die, because there wasn't anything left to save, not anymore, it had all burned away… So why shouldn't I try to kill her the instant I laid eyes on her?

"You don't know anything about him!" I snarled, while silently wondering why I was even bothering to say anything at all. She blocked the punch and danced a step to the side. My foot jabbed out to hook around her ankle; she pulled it back and aimed a kick at my shin. I blocked it with that same foot, and for a second, we traded blows with our feet. It stopped when I threw a palm heel towards her nose, bringing the fight back up to our hands. "He won't do that!" I was still shouting. "He's better than that!"

"Deluded already?" She purred. A hand shot past my defenses and gripped my collar, the other hand landing a fierce strike to my temple, momentarily stunning me, making me dizzy. She pulled me within half an inch of her once again while I blinked rapidly, trying to clear the blurriness from my vision. "Don't you get it yet, Natalie? Don't you get why he's my favorite?"

In a panic now, I stretched my hands out to my side, using the gesture to command the machines in my blood; rage and fear and all the key emotions boiled in me, and my force field exploded outwards, shoving her back a step, forcing her to release me. Still overcome with vertigo, I fell to the ground but scrambled back upright again, wiping my lip.

"Of course he'll use it against you! He'll never be better than that because, can't you see? Without you…"

She shook her head, taking a few steps back before she hopped up onto the railing. One more step back and she would plunge over the edge. I'd have been absurdly happy about that if I'd thought that she wouldn't survive.

"Without you," she repeated with raw ecstasy, "He's just like me." Another little hebephrenic giggle. "And I'm going to prove it to you."

And then she turned and jumped; I saw the shadows swallow her whole and didn't bother to get angry, didn't bother to report back to the Avengers about her newest visit. I just stared after her with a blank expression.

And then, without even missing a beat -this was my life now, after all- I went back to my drills.

There is a reason they call it 'the calm before the storm'.

The next few days were… bliss. Compared to what followed, compared to Fraye's biggest blow yet, they were sheer perfection. Sure, for a while there, I had a few issues with Loki- I couldn't let him near me, couldn't bear to listen to some of the things that he said- but he was being very, very, abnormally very good about letting me keep my emotional issues to myself, and very understanding about letting me do whatever I needed to do. So when I flinched away from his touch, he didn't comment or probe into it. When something he said made my heart do a little dance, he said nothing, and didn't try to figure out why. Somewhere deep inside, I knew what this meant: he had realized my little secret. He knew the truth, at least subconsciously, but he refused to acknowledge- even to himself- that he knew. Because my Secret was impossible. I could not feel the way I did for a giant. In his mind, such a thing was a grievous, terrible impossibility. Not even I– bizarre as I was- could possibly be capable of that.

And, for once in my life, I let him think that way. It was better for both of us if he didn't allow himself to know the truth. It was better for both of us that this Secret remained just that.

So, after a while, I settled back into my old pattern; we were still the same person regardless of my new Dark Truth, and it was still beyond easy to be around him, to talk with him. We were back to our old selves in no time, with me back to lightly teasing him while he suffered through it diligently and maybe secretly enjoyed it.

Tony and Steve got over me and Loki sleeping next to each other, and the others never really had much of a problem with it to begin with. So life went on like it always did: with Loki and the others getting along like they had been getting along, almost- almost- like they were friends (Stark even offered Loki 'that promised drink' before the latter reminded him that he could no longer touch alcohol).

Though no one got along better with Loki than Thor. Of course, the two didn't always get along, and Loki still got in the occasional cutting remark. But while he was still frequently jealous, they were brothers, and for the most part, that was exactly how they acted. They would train or talk or complain, all together. They would laugh and slug each other in the shoulder (well, Thor would, anyway). It was the little things, however, that told me that the worst of the storm that had once lingered over them had passed. The crippling jealousy was still there, it always was, but he could see past it. He could laugh. He could jest. He could even fight in the training room without being tempted to end Thor's life. They were… brothers, again.

Until she showed up.

Until she ruined everything.

For it was Fraye who brought the Avengers and Loki together. It was Fraye who made them comrades in arms. It was Fraye who made them- who made us all- into the weirdest family of super-freaks in known history.

And it was Fraye who tore us all apart.

"Hey, Frosty! Training! Now!"

I glanced up from my book at Stark, who was ducking out of the room. I tilted my head back so that I could look at Loki, whose arm I was currently using as a pillow. "Is he talking to me, or you?"

He shrugged mildly with one shoulder, though thankfully not the arm that I was using, so that my neck wouldn't contort. Stark, apparently, heard that, and called back, "Both of you! The Cap called a group session!"

I lifted both eyebrows, and Loki did the same. Well, that was rare. Steve had, on occasion, called us all together to train at once, but it was a risk; as we'd seen before. We didn't want to all be exhausted when Fraye next decided to strike. But he liked having us all working together; it made sure we were all still in sync with one another. I sat upright, then stood, chewing my gloss-coated lower lip nervously. It tasted like artificial grape and left a dry taste in the back of my throat, reminding me why I didn't like wearing the stuff in the first place; but, after so many mornings of putting it on while on autopilot, I'd discovered that it was pointless to try and change that.

Loki stood beside me, and we headed out towards the hall together, falling into step easily. Ugh, it was always so easy to be around him, easy to be myself… I forced myself to move a step out of sync, just to prove to myself that I could be difficult if I wanted to. Loki made no comment, but his hand slipped into mine, fingers intertwining, and my willpower went all mushy again.

Dammit.

When we made it to the training room, I finally managed to extract my hand out of his so that I could lean against the wall. The Captain was there, looking very confused as the rest of the Avengers finished trickling in.

"So what's the deal, Star Spangled?" I asked once Bruce- the last of the band to arrive- walked in. "You really think we should risk training as a group again?" I glanced around, doing a quick head count. Six people, one Natalie; Five guys, two girls. I tried not to think about how those statistics hadn't changed since my first day with the Avengers. That, even with the loss of Clint, we still had the same number of people that they once had. It was almost like Loki had replaced him.

He could never replace Clint, I snarled in my head, unsure of where the vehemence behind it came from. Maybe it was because he was a killer; but then, so was Clint. Maybe it was because he was the 'bad guy'. Or maybe I just didn't like the idea of Loki being an Avenger; because that was what we weren't. We were our own team. We were separate.

And I was beginning to like that.

Steve was considering my question very carefully. "I… I don't…" he looked up to us, suddenly helpless. "I don't remember." He said, a strange, silent fear in his eyes.

"Yeah, sorry about that." The door slammed shut behind me. Fraye was slouched against the wall, hand on the door, grinning. She gave us a little wave with four of her fingers. "Had to get you all together somehow, didn't I?"

It was immediate. Our response time was incredible. Stark's face plate was down and shielding his features, Steve's shield in hand, Natasha's gun out of her belt, Loki's spear alive with blue magic, Thor's hammer crackling with lightning, and my force field activated, glow flared, all within the space of half a heartbeat. Every single one of us fell into line exactly, perfectly, not needing orders, not needing any spoken command to tell us what we were supposed to do. We just did it; all falling into place to protect Banner, hiding him away from Fraye until he could Hulk out and kick ass. But Fraye hadn't attacked yet. And we didn't want Hulk to bust out if we could help it. Still, Bruce got ready, hovering on the edge of his own psyche, ready to unleash the terrible creature within.

Fraye, however, seemed entirely unimpressed. "Oh, relax, would you?" She asked, blowing us off with one airy hand. "I told you, didn't I? That I had a deal to make? A compromise?" The toothy grin on her face frightened me. She flicked her hair behind her shoulder and stayed where she was, not bothering to walk towards us. "Though in truth, it's only a deal for my little Loki here, but I figured: 'why should everyone else miss out on the fun?'" She tilted a little wink in the direction of the Avengers, but her eyes lingered on me for a chilling half-second.

Steve signaled and, as one, without even thinking about it, we attacked. Loki went to one side as I dodged to the other, our minds melding, meshing, intertwining. I pushed the thought of Fraye and her creepy little looks aside as we became one person, and we both went to cover Stark's back as he surged forwards.

Fraye- still smiling- disappeared in a puff of shadow and reappeared behind us. Steve had been expecting that-he, Thor and Natasha were on the other side of Banner now, keeping him covered- and they whirled to Fraye, who laughed her twittering laugh and disappeared again, reappearing close to the ceiling, high above our heads.

"Now, really!" She scolded playfully, hovering in mid-air, her feet dancing above our heads as though the air was solid. "You're not even giving a girl a chance to speak!"

"We're done talking, kid," Stark snarled. A lurch of my heart made Loki and I temporarily separate. 'Kid'. Tony still called her 'kid'. Because he still remembered her as that little girl, because he still remembered what she did to him, to everyone. It had really been that little twist of the knife, hadn't it, that little betrayal that had started it all…

Loki tentatively pressed against my mind, reminding me that there was a battle at hand, and the two of us flooded together again. There was no time for that. There was no time for any of that.

Particularly seeing as Fraye was abruptly within inches of Stark's face, shadows billowing about her, flowing around her entire form. "Yes, but it's not you that I care about, is it?" Her words, all pretty and perfumed, were the closest to a snarl that I'd ever heard from her. She pulled back before Stark could get a decent hit on her, fading into smoking darkness before reappearing directly behind Loki. A blade of shadow formed in her hand, and she pressed it against his throat.

He choked against the weapon, and for a brief second, the entire team froze. Loki and I broke apart again and I stared at the two, immobile, unable to stop her, unable to save him.

The Shadow Child's eyes passed across each of us, and though I might've imagined it, for a second I was certain that her gaze had lingered on me yet again. "Funny," she noted in a coo. Her lips directly next to his ear, her breath warm on his skin, she asked, "Do you think they'll hesitate if I threaten to slit your throat? Do you think that they will mourn?" She snickered, eyes back to me again. "Well, maybe they'll mourn her."

Loki- moving very slowly- had already turned his spear around so that its tip was aimed behind him. And now he drove it backwards, towards Fraye; but of course, she was ready for the attack and she just skipped out of the way again.

She was definitely avoiding us today. She wasn't in the mood for a fight, and so there wouldn't be one, no matter what we tried to do to start it. Loki and I realized this as one and, sighing, I slipped my thoughts entirely out of his.

"Stop!" I shouted to the Avengers. They kept advancing on Fraye, and I called again, "Stop, stop! This isn't going to get us anywhere!"

But the Avengers wouldn't be stopped. Fraye gave me a Cheshire-Cat kind of grin- it was three times as crazy- and skidded backwards as Stark's repulsors gouged out lines in the ground. She fell back onto one hand to avoid Steve's shield; it came within a hair's breadth of her chin, and shadows swirled up to intercept the bullets Natasha fired, and the hammer Mjolnir. But throughout all of those attacks, in the end, when Fraye righted herself again, there was barely a hair out of place on her head. Loki and I remained outside of the fighting, watching her toy with them. We knew this was currently pointless. If she wanted us dead, this would be a war, not a dance. A battlefield instead of a playground.

Just as Banner was taking off his glasses, just as Natasha reloaded and Thor's hammer returned to his hand, Fraye swept her hair back from her forehead with one hand and trilled in a sing-song voice, "I'll spare the nine realms!"

Everything went still. Even Bruce froze -thankfully not having turned green and muscle-y yet- while the other Avengers halted in the midst of their respective tasks, unmoving, shocked into place. Loki and I went stiff for only a second; but then our eyes narrowed, suspicious and wary.

Fraye chuckled. "That got your attention, didn't it?" She mused, almost under her breath. She took a few light but measured steps towards Loki, skipping up to him with carefully choreographed footsteps, as feather-light as a ballet dancer. "I am not above reason, not above compromise. And really, Loki, all I'm here to do…" her voice had become a purr again as she stepped up to him, as she brought her finger against his throat and trailed it up to his chin, forcing his eyes up to hers. "All I want to do," she added, lips curling further upwards, "Is give you everything that you've ever wanted."

She was promising to spare our worlds. She was saying that she wanted to give Loki 'what he wanted'. But no matter her words, no matter her actions and deeds, no matter what she was promising, my spine was still as cold as ice. Every vertebra, every nerve ending in my body had turned into frozen mercury, ready to shatter into crystalline silver. And I was clearly not the only one; even without Loki's thoughts in my head, it was obvious from his face that having Fraye in such close proximity- no matter what she was saying- was less than reassuring. His hand whipped up and slapped hers away; something he would not have had the courage to do in days gone past. He had changed. Become stronger.

Fraye ignored this little act of defiance against her; in fact, it only seemed to amuse her more. She took a few steps back, until she was just out of our arm's reach, and studied us all. But she studied no one more intently than she did Loki; and every time she did, her lips would twitch again. She had the upper hand in her game- though really, when didn't she?- and she was taking the time to enjoy it.

"I'll spare the nine realms," She repeated, as though speaking to a child, to a baby, her voice all snuggle fluff and goochie-goochie-goo. "Every realm… but one." She held up her index finger, bringing it to her lips, her corpse eyes shining.

"And he has to choose which one, is that it?" I asked, wanting to get this over with, tired of her game, tired of it all. Fraye gave me a swift, patronizing look.

"Not quite, dear," she said, stepping up to me so that she could pat me on the head a few times. My hand shot up to try and break her wrist, but she removed it before I could get a hold of it. "But nice try."

The room crackled with tension as she turned back to Loki again. "No, you needn't worry about any such choice. I'll spare every realm. Every realm, of course, but this one." Her grin grew ever more Cheshire. Obsidian-black eyes met jade-green ones as she matched the Trickster stare for stare. "Because this one…" She took one step towards him; one that echoed in the room despite her lack of shoes. "Will belong…" Another echoing step. "To you."

Loki's chest went tight. His throat closed. And no one dared to even breathe. I stared at Fraye, in complete disbelief. She couldn't. She wouldn't.

Yeah. She would.

I wanted to move. Wanted to go over to Loki. Wanted to link my hand in his and pull him away, hold the monster back, remind him who he could be, who he should be… dammit, who he was. I wanted to remind him that the throne of Midgard would be useless to him, that it would be pointless, that she was just trying to get in his head again and he didn't have to allow that to happen. But it was as though the floor had abruptly swallowed the soles of my shoes, keeping me motionless, keeping me still. It was absorbing my strength, sapping it away from me, forcing me into immobility, and all I could do was watch.

Fraye snickered at the look on the Avengers faces- and my face for that matter- and at the lack of blood in Loki's. He had gone as pale as a sheet. "Don't you see, my Little Giant? That's the only reason that I'm here. So that I can give you everything you've ever wanted."

She started to circle him, getting closer and closer with each revolution, brushing her fingers across his shoulders each time, until she was so close that he could smell the ash and the blood on her skin. Her voice was hypnotic. "You know I can do it. I'll hand Midgard over to you on a platter, the Avengers, on a platter." She giggled. "That's why you wanted to find me in the first place, isn't it? Because you wanted me to help you conquer the earth?" I already felt so very cold, but something about her words made it so much worse. She wasn't even looking at me or the Avengers anymore. Her attention was devoted entirely to Loki.

"Well, here I am," she told him. "Your personal mercenary." Her white teeth glittered in the artificial light as her smile grew ever more wolfish. "I can give you the throne!" She promised in a breathless whisper, signifying just how awed everyone in the room should be at such a vow. And I'm fairly certain everyone was awed- and sickened- by her promises. I know I was.

"I can give you the crown!" she carried on relentlessly. "I can make you a king! You'll stand above your brother, above everyone, just like you were always meant t-!" Her hand reached out to stroke his cheek, and his hand abruptly snapped upwards to meet it. His long, thin fingers wrapped around her tiny wrist, grasping it so tightly that, if she were human, it would have broken in two.

That movement broke the spell; everyone- myself included- jumped just a little bit in surprise. Loki's shock seemed to have worn off, and he glared at the Shadow Child. He seemed far less impressed with this 'deal' then the Avengers would've thought; and I found myself sighing a little in relief.

"All mercenaries have a price," he said in a dark, dangerous, deadly tone. It came from his core, like boiling magma at the heart of a volcano; but colder than that, buried beneath glaciers. I could see the surprise on the Avengers' faces; it was so obvious that he was just asking to humor her that even they could tell. This negotiation of 'price' was not going to work in her favor. He was just trying to get her to finish talking, to get the words out of her, to get this over with. After all, he physically couldn't take over the Earth. I'd been so blinded by Fraye's psycho logic that I'd forgotten; even to save the nine realms, he couldn't accept that crown. Because it would hurt me, and I'd be in his head at all times, reminding him of what a bane the throne was to him.

"So what is yours?" He demanded of Fraye, still holding her wrist. His eyes smoldered violently, and I could sense blood and death in the air about him. I stayed out of his thoughts for the moment, almost frightened of what I would find.

Fraye's answering smile was detached and blissful. "Why," she said musically, melodically. "Natalie Frost, of course."

If it had been silent before, it was deafeningly so now. A sweep of breathlessness that stole away all of the air inside of my chest. My throat went completely dry. In that second my lungs were gone, my heart was stolen, everything in me was emptied out.

Again, no one moved. The Avengers all went still as Fraye took a step back and snickered. Her eyes remained unwaveringly on Loki. "All you have to do is hand her over. We can break the link, and then she'll be mine, to deal with however I please."

I'd regained the ability to breathe, but the problem was, there just wasn't enough air in the room. I'd been sucked into the ice-cold, endless black vacuum of space. The image of Loki's scars began to burn behind my retinas, the fear behind them making my knees turn to jelly. Fraye had him for months before he 'escaped'; but if she hadn't let him go, if she hadn't wanted to drag out her game for a little while longer, how long would she have kept him alive?

How long would she keep me alive…?

No. I shoved the thought out of my brain as hard as I could, though it was a desperately losing battle. But I had to believe that Loki wouldn't do this. That he couldn't do this. Even for the Earth he wouldn't do this.

But Fraye's voice was so very convincing.

"One clean cut," she purred. "One simple, singular separation between her and you, and it's all over for good. Whatever I do to her…You won't feel any of it." She shrugged. "I mean, of course, you'll feel the emptiness. I won't deny that: you'll be hollowed out, with half of your mind and your memories gone." She gave him a look that could almost be described as compassionate. "But wouldn't it be better this way? Even if you did manage to kill me- which we all know you can't- you'd have what? Sixty? Maybe seventy years with her? And then she'd just die anyway, turn to dust before your eyes, fall away into nothingness. And how much more would her death affect you, after seventy years?"

She looked genuinely concerned as she said these things, like she truly cared about the Trickster and his feelings. She was a flawless actor, but her eyes… her eyes were always lifeless. They always belonged to Death. "You've been linked with her for less than two years, and already you're inseparable from her. And you're only ever going to get closer." She took yet another step towards him, so that she was so very close to him. Loki was stone, a statue, unmoving and immobile. I could feel something inside of him: an old, lingering ache, a desperate craving for vengeance, for power, for blood…

I wanted to move towards him. I wanted to hold him. I wanted to punch Fraye right in the mouth, stop those words in their tracks. But I, too, found myself made into stone. Her words had affected me, too. They were creeping inside of me, turning me into something bitter and cold.

"Wouldn't it be better, to be rid of her now? While she doesn't hold command over your entire life?" Fraye's hands were held out to him imploringly. "Wouldn't it be better to-"

She was cut off by the most unexpected noise. A noise that broke the stone forming inside of me. A noise neither of us thought we'd hear at this moment in time: the sound of Tony Stark, bellowing out a laugh.

Somehow, someway, he exuded confidence as he swaggered forwards. But then, he'd had practice; and he was, indeed, a confident man. "He can't survive without her," he waved an arrogant hand, looking incredibly unconcerned. "And he couldn't separate from her if he wanted to; if Natalie doesn't agree, he can't get out of her head." His eyes sparked with a condescending mirth as they locked on Fraye. "Your logic is a little flawed, kid."

"And the Key," Natasha spoke up, her voice a little colder. "Even if there was a way to separate their connection, Natalie could still stop him."

Like I'd do that again. The traitorous thought appeared in my brain without my consent, and I pushed it aside. If it came to this, if it saved my world, or even just one person, then yeah, I would. And we all knew it.

But Fraye was just as undaunted by Tony's confidence as he was by hers. She just smiled her blissful smile and raised a clawed, skeletal hand, asking in an innocent voice, "This Key?"

She closed that claw into a fist, and a stab of ice shocked through my wrist. I gasped, then shrieked aloud at the unexpected pain, gripping my wrist tightly. Just under the skin, I felt something on my arm snap, something twist, something break. It felt like there was an extra bone in my arm; an extra bone that had no purpose other than to snap in half, splinter into pieces. I dropped to one knee and Loki came to my side, breezing the few steps over to me without a second's thought, moving on instinct. His own hand had gone numb momentarily, but the same pain was not sweeping through him. Panting, I held up my wrist to examine it and saw that the band of Celtic knots that had encircled it was now fractured, broken apart. The markings were now only pieces of a whole, with cracks of skin between them; and when I rubbed my fingers over them in an attempt to alleviate the pain, they did not glow.

I turned a glare to Fraye, little droplets of sweat beginning to bead at my hairline and on the back of my neck. She chuckled again, but this time the sound was oddly adult and cold. Odd, at least, for her.

"As for the link being unbreakable…" She glanced back to Loki, whose hand was on my shoulder. I couldn't determine how much of the gesture was concern for me, and how much was simply the natural reflex to protect himself, to hold an injury, to tend to a wound. "Do you want to tell them, my dears?" Fray asked us both. "Or shall I?"

I tried to swallow, but my throat felt like sandpaper. It was still very hard to breathe. Loki did not respond; he had become quiet as a grave. When she did not get a reply, Fraye took our silence as her answer and turned her attention to the Avengers.

"It's true," she admitted. "There isn't a telepathic force in the universe that can rip these two apart when they both want to be together. Not even I am capable of that." She tapped her chin with one finger, as though considering something. "But… when this all first started, didn't you take her to Odin? Didn't he-with Natalie's help- try to remove Loki from her mind?"

Ice water trickled down my back. She was right, we had. And Loki and I had fought it out and, in a way, we had both lost. Even with Odin on my side, the link was… powerful.

But Odin was an Asgardian; and Fraye was… whatever Fraye was. She excelled in telepathy; she came from a world of telepaths. Shadow Control and Telepathy were both her greatest powers. Some of her other forms of magic might have been semi-limited because of it, but she was more than capable with those two. And, in those cases, she was likely even stronger than Odin.

"They might have done it- it is possible, particularly when their link was in such early stages- but they weren't quite strong enough." Fraye grinned toothily. "But we all know how strong I am, don't we? And if one of you agrees to this, just one…"

My head was spinning. I was fighting vertigo, and I wanted to puke. Being forcibly ripped out of Loki's head, and then living after the experience, was not something that I'd had to worry about for a while. Particularly not being ripped out by Loki himself.

We had, of course, known that this was the case: that Fraye could rip us apart if at least one of us consented to it. But before now the very thought of that was so ludicrous that we hadn't ever thought that it was worth mentioning. Fraye snickered yet again at the stunned looks on our faces.

"So what's it going to be, my little giant?" She cooed. "Will you give me Natalie Frost?" She was right next to him again, her hand running along the back of his shoulders as she twirled, maneuvering herself behind him. She leaned over, whispering in his ear. "Will you take the throne, take the Earth, take everything that you've ever wanted?" Her fingers danced along the scars on his back, tracing her name, carved in his skin. My hand, I suddenly realized, was in his; and he was holding it so tightly that my fingers were going numb.

The shadows coalesced and converged, little points of darkness hovering in front of us- Loki, myself, and every one of the Avengers- shafts of shade preparing to strike. I lurched to my feet, frightened, and Loki stood straighter beside me; but even this was barely enough to make him react.

Fraye's eyes glittered, still locked on Loki, and her voice dropped an octave. "Or should I just kill you all right now?"

My heart wasn't just pounding anymore; it was doing a freakin' salsa. There was a rush of static in my ears and a buzzing in the back of my head, and I was trying to get a read on Loki's emotions because I couldn't figure them out, but he was blocking me. His thoughts were out of mine, because he was trying to think, and he couldn't think while my emotions were crowding his…

But even so, his feelings were strong enough that I could sense them. And the worst part about it was… this was a victory. And it was a victory so close thathe could taste it… That I could taste it. A throne, a crown, a world, the exhilaration, the rush. I could remember everything, remember how it felt, remember that flood of power, that rush through my blood… Everything falling into place, becoming what I truly was, being the monster at last, at long last. I was where I was meant to be… and ruling this rock was better than what Thor had ever done, and there would be chaos and order and the whole world would be stripped of the illusion, the lie of freedom, the one that Thor and all of those golden children of Asgard had allowed the mortals to believe in for far too long…

I rememberedhow it was, to stand while they knelt… to know that there was nothing they could do, nothing anyone could do, to change it…

And then the conflict. The conflict in his head, I could feel it all, it engulfed me. These were practically my thoughts, they belonged to me… And here was the dilemma: whether to have that power, to be the son of Laufey, to be in my rightful place…

Or to live in a world that I hadn't believed existed, a world where mortals were equals. Where humans had strange quirks and lives as rich and detailed as those of immortals. Where I could call Thor my brother again. Where I could consider mortals my allies… perhaps even… even my friends. Where I shared a connection so deep that it sang through my blood and altered me, rewrote me, unwinding me strand by strand, breaking me down piece by piece, and then rebuilding the tangled and broken mess into something bright, something that could maybe even be wonderful…

To live in a world where there was someone who would always be by my side, as long as she could, until the end of her very life… someone who cared for me, someone who held me close and never wanted to let go, someone who would fight for me, who would stay beside me to the bitterest end… someone who maybe, just maybe, even did the impossible. Someone who maybe…

The thought broke me and Loki apart again, broke me away from him as horrible realization struck me for the thousandth time that day. It made my blood curdle, my heart shrivel in my chest, made me feel two inches tall.

He knows.

My eyes began to prickle. So it was true. He knew. He absolutely knew. He may not have even known that he knew, but he knew.

Of course he did. I couldn't keep anything secret from him. And certainly not something like that.

But now my thoughts were my own again. And all of these emotions aside- his or mine- I had to force myself to think of Fraye's deal as she watched us with silent black eyes… as the Avengers watched us in quiet dread, in soundless terror. I forced myself to think of what she was saying, think of what Loki would do…

No.

No, I already knew what he would do.

Because he had no other option, really.

Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath, then turned to him. My numb fingers squeezed his in return, and I said in a small and tremulous voice, "Loki…"

Before I could get the words out, before I could say anything else, the shadow that was loomed in front of me expanded, became a wall, and charged towards me with enough force to wrench my hand out of Loki's and throw me backwards. My force field-bubble flickered back on to protect me as I fell to the ground, and it would have been far more painful and damaging if it had not. I was still skidding backwards when Fraye suddenly disappeared from where she was standing and reappeared in my face, shrieking, "It's not your choice!"

I scrambled back, trying to pull myself upright unsuccessfully; and despite his reflexive need to protect me, to protect the second half of himself, Loki did not come to my defense. No one did. No one even moved. I brought my hand up to my face, startled to recall that my force field had even turned off in the first place… regardless, the left side of my head was aching, throbbing, stinging. It drew tears to my eyes that I blatantly refused to shed. I knew it would bruise, knew it would leave a mark…

But would it only be one of many?

Fraye was staring at me, and for the first time, she seemed genuinely… angry. She was never angry, never mad, not like that. Her eyes were full of wrath and vengeance, and she forced them away from me and stared instead at the floor, panting. Her hands were in fists and her entire body was trembling, but after a long moment, the smile began to infect her face once more, and it curled upwards, sick and macabre.

"It's his choice," She said, her voice quiet and soft…but it lacked its former sugar. "And only his."

As Fraye looked back to us, I met her eyes, met her stare for stare. Because she was right. It was his choice. And though I'd been blind to it before, it was an inevitable choice. It was the choice he had needed to make since the day I'd decided to stay, since the day he'd first linked with me. The choice that had haunted our footsteps from the moment we met. The choice that I'd once taken away from him, now being put back into his hands, so that he could make it for himself.

Me or the Earth.

One or the other.

I wouldn't let him take over. And now he had to accept that… or accept that he had to live without me.

I glared up at Fraye, frightened but determined not to show it. Loki was downright shaking. The tension in the room was a physical pressure; any second now, someone would crack. I thought it might be me. Or Loki.

Turns out, however, that someone was Fraye.

She took a step backwards, grinning directly at Loki. "You know what?" She asked, a giggle in her words. "You look like you need some time to think it over."

She waved a hand, and the shadows that hovered before us all, the ones that everyone had prepared to defend themselves against, faded away into nothing. She took a step back, and the darkness swirled behind her, an incredible contrast with her bone-white skin and brilliantly white teeth.

"I'll come back in a few days for your answer, shall I?" Her black eyes showed the faintest hint of a spark as she stepped back into the shadows; they billowed and sashayed around her, circling her, and then coalesced into a pinpoint of darkness before disappearing entirely.

For a second, no one in the room could even breathe, least of all me. The silence was palpable, a living thing. After what felt like an eternity, I began to stand, pulling myself to my feet; Thor, at the last second, realized what I was doing and extended a hand to help me up. I took it, then brushed myself off a few times. There was a collective, noiseless sigh from those gathered, and the tension relaxed; but only slightly. Only enough so that no one would split in two beneath the pressure.

All eyes traveled to Loki, mine included. He was entirely ashen-faced. I mean, he wasn't only pale, he was actually grey. He was staring at the ground, not looking at anyone, and though he didn't appear to be breathing, I knew he was; I could hear it just faintly, skipping and halting. He looked like he was in shock. I could have sworn his face had more wrinkles than usual, that his eyes were withered and ancient. I could see his true age in him again, could see the thousands of years he had endured.

And nothing seemed to have aged him more than this.

After another long few seconds of silence- seconds that stretched, so they felt like hours- Steve sighed deeply. The sound seemed to come from the very core of his body, breaking the tension even further.

"I'll go get the Tesseract," he said quietly, heading towards the door. Natasha fell into step directly beside him without a word. My eyebrows furrowed.

"What?" I asked, genuinely perplexed. "Why?"

"Come on, Nat," Tony said quietly, his voice raw. "Don't make this worse than it already is."

My blood was already pumping ice water; now it pumped acid. "Why?" I repeated, with a little more vehemence this time, feeling a new, inexplicable fear creep in. Steve and Natasha stopped trying to leave. No one would look Loki in the eye; and no one would even look at me.

"We can't let him stay here," Steve, being a decent guy, waited until he had the courage to look me in the face before he said this. "Not after that. He has to go back."

"Go back?" I asked, and noticed that my voice was getting a little shriller. "Go back where?"

Again, no one would meet my eye. Loki was still staring at the ground, seeming oblivious to the conversation around him.

Where do you think, moron? The thought hit me like a ton of bricks; my thought, definitely mine, but almost condescending enough to have belonged to my other half. My heart kicked it into the next gear. Any second now it would burst.

"What, to prison?" I demanded, and my voice was so high-pitched that it could have cut glass.

"He has to be watched. Monitored. We don't have another option," Steve tried to reassure me, but not even he could meet my gaze any longer.

"That isn't an option!" I shouted, positioning myself between them and Loki. It was reflexive and natural, almost easy.

As though anything about this could ever be easy.

"Natalie, you saw what happened just now!" Stark tried to snap, to appeal to my sense of reason in his usual brash way, but even his voice was hoarser than it should have been. "He just-"

"He what?" Where did the anger behind that come from? I didn't

know, but it was violent, and I could practically see blood and spittle flying out of my mouth with the words. "He what, Stark? Last time I checked, he didn't do anything! She did! Everything that was said and done in this room was said and done by Fraye! Not by Loki!"

No one replied. I took the opportunity to surge forwards with my defense; Loki still stared at the floor, as though he could find the answers to life's greatest questions written there. "What, did you actually believe any of that? Did you actually think that he could accept that little 'deal'? Hello? How many times do I have to tell you that we can't live without each other anymore? That it would kill him to be separate from me?"

"You heard what she said!" Stark replied, exploding. But even he did not look like this was something he wanted to do. With the possible exception of Clint -who was not here- not a single one of the Avengers wanted this. Not anymore. "She had a lot of really valid points, Nat, and somehow I don't think he'll just ignore that!"

I scoffed. There was a great deal of confidence behind the gesture. "Oh, please. You don't really think that any of that little performance was for him, do you?" I looked around at them all. "It was a show! A show that she put on for you! She knew he'd never take that kind of deal! She knew that he'd be appalled by the very suggestion! She's just trying to rip us apart, like we always knew she would, like I said she would from the beginning! She's trying to make sure that you don't trust him, and you're playing right into her hands!"

"He tried to take over the earth before," Steve reasoned in a quiet voice. "It's… it's a risk we just can't take,Natalie. I'm sorry, but we have to think of our planet first."

"And you think I'm not?" I demanded and crossed my arms; but my gestures became so wild that those folded arms didn't last long. "You think I'm not just as concerned for the Earth as you?" There was a second's pause, which I snapped up gratefully. "Oh, and in case you didn't notice, Fraye just told Loki that she'd rip my head out of his-essentially ripping me in half- then hold me prisoner for who-knows-how-long, and then, very likely, torture and kill me! So, you know, I'd really be getting the bum end of this 'deal', wouldn't you say?"

It seemed, for a brief moment, that no one had a decent answer to that, and I scoffed again. "I have some sense of self-preservation, you know."

"You also know how to lie," Natasha said flatly, taking two steps towards me. Her face was expressionless, unreadable.

"And my incentive to do that would be what, exactly?" I asked derisively.

Her eyes flicked to Loki, then back to me. Her stare was even and steady, with just the slightest trace of accusation. As she planted her feet a short distance from me and folded her arms, her eyes narrowing, I felt a prickle of fear in my stomach.

"You know what," She replied, lowering her voice so that I was the only one who could hear.

Oh, hell. She knows, too.

Am I the only oblivious one here?!

Instead of allowing it to intimidate me, instead of shrinking away from her stare, I allowed myself to stand taller, to grow bolder. I, too, lowered my voice, keeping this conversation in whispers and murmurs. "I wouldn't let my emotions get in the way of this," I told her, not bothering to hide the thoughts that came with this statement from Loki, who wasn't even listening anyway.

And then I said something cruel, something vicious, something horrifically bitchy and I said it as though I truly didn't care one way or the other, if she hated me for it or not. Because Natasha knew everything about me; it was high time she learned what a terrible person I could be, what terrible things I could say. "I'm not Clint," I hissed. "And I won't allow myself to be compromised."

Other than her eyes narrowing just a little more, she didn't react. She didn't even seem surprised that I'd gone there- so maybe she had already known what a terrible person I was- and Steve spoke up again before she could respond.

"Natalie…" He said, his words careful. "We don't doubt you, but… You weren't there. When he could have taken over the world, you didn't see it, not like we did, you weren't-"

"He killed my best friend for that goal, Rogers." I turned my gaze to him, ignoring Natasha's hollow stare. My eyes were as cold as I could make them. "Believe me, I know what he's capable of. What he'd do."

I let that sink in before adding, "And I know what he won't do. He won't do this. He can't. Now he has done nothing wrong, okay, and you can't… you can't punish him for that! You gave him your word that he would be allowed to fight Fraye; and you can't go back on that because of something that she did!"

I looked around at their faces. Many of them were wavering. Banner was calculating. Steve was… hesitant. But every single one of them was sending furtive glances towards the still-immobile Loki. And I saw distrust on every. Single. Face.

I looked to Thor hopefully, pleadingly. If anyone could help me, it was bound to be him, right? "Thor, come on, back me up here!"

For once, my teddy-bear-golden-retriever brother seemed to be at a loss for words. He opened his mouth, managed to get out something like, "I…" and then clamped his mouth shut again. Sighing heavily, he closed his eyes and turned away. "I'm sorry, brother."

"No…" I breathed the word in disbelief, staring at him. "No, no, no!" My voice got louder with each denial, panic beginning to prickle inside of me. "No, come on! Bruce!" I recognized him as my last hope to convince them and turned to him desperately. "Bruce, please, tell me you see sense!"

Banner met my eyes for about three seconds. They were probably the longest three seconds of my life.

But then he turned away and shook his head.

I stepped back, feeling the gesture slam into my chest like an invisible blow. I looked around to every face, trying to see some of the camaraderie that they'd shared with Loki for so long now, trying to see some of the friendliness in their eyes, trying to see some little hint that they could still trust him, somehow…

Nothing. Doubt and distrust were in all eyes, and suspicion was everywhere. It clogged the air and choked the room, and as I stared at the Avengers, my heart- a heart of fire, always molten and filled with magma- slowly hardened into stone.

I looked down. Everything in the room suddenly settled into a strange kind of perfect clarity, shifting into focus, so that I could see every little detail, every little mote of dust in the air. "Okay." I said slowly, and I could feel every little vibration, hear every little sound wave my voice made. "Okay. If that's how it is." I took a step back and linked my hand with Loki's, intertwining our fingers. For the first time, he stirred, and he turned to me, observing me. But there was no curiosity in his eyes, no expression on his face. He was just watching, as he had always watched.

The Avengers were watching me too, far more nervously. Maybe they knew what I planned to say next. Then again, maybe they didn't. "But you'd better get a bigger prison," I said, my voice becoming frigid. "Because if he goes, then I go."

Immediately, mouths opened, words of protest buzzing and flying around the air, but I cut them all off with a shout. "And if not to prison, then we run! Both of us, right here, right now! If he makes a portal, you can't stop us!" Mouths shut. Eyes widened. Shock struck all faces. Fear lingered behind features. "You lose him, you lose me, you lose us both! Because that's always been the case, hasn't it? If I die, he dies, if he dies, I die, and that's how it works! So you go right ahead! You lock us both up, you lose us both!" I glared at them all. "You think I won't do it? That I won't run? You think I won't leave you all right here and now?!"

"Natalie, for crying out loud, listen to reason!" Steve lost his cool just a little, taking a step forwards, towards us. He, too, looked older than he had this morning, older than he had before he'd called the group training session (or Fraye had called it through him). His hands were low and outstretched towards me, his eyes shining in fear, laced with the slightest hint of anger. "You can't leave the Earth, Natalie, you can't leave it when it needs its defenses the most, you won't! You're better than that! Think of your team, Natalie! Think of your planet!"

"I AM!" I yelled as loud as I could. The Avengers were braced at the other side of the room, ready to rush us if Loki created that promised portal. They wouldn't make it in time. The Trickster, however, just kept watching me in silence. "Because the Jotuns trust him! He's half of our liaison to their world, and if you go back on your promise to him, then what's to stop you from doing the same to them, huh? Do you really think they'll let that slide? Do you really think we can afford to lose them, too?"

I had their attention-and their silence- yet again. "And Thor, you know how much Asgard holds a person to their word! How much a person's word means there! If we go back on this, maybe you'll be okay with it, maybe Odin will,but we just can't afford for anyone to think of Midgard any less than they already do! And your planet's soldiers would think less of us! No matter who Loki is or what he has done! Surely you can all see the reason in that?"

There was a long, fractured silence. I stared at them all, holding Loki's hand tightly, silently hoping for that to reassure me. It didn't; his fingers were limp and lifeless in mine. His skin seemed colder than usual.

Still, I held fast and stood firm, meeting every Avenger's eyes in turn before I snapped, "Well? Go on then! Go grab the handcuffs, get the Tesseract! Let's get this over with!"

No one moved an inch. For a second, the world was stone, and we were statues in a garden, some artist's representation of suspicion and distrust among friends.

It was Stark who broke the silence by sighing very heavily and loudly. That sound was a cue for the rest of the room, and the tension in the air relaxed. Others sighed, too, not so loudly, but similarly heavy and packed with unshed anxiety. In turn, I also allowed myself to relax, my hand slipping out of Loki's, my shoulders slumping. I jammed my hands into my pockets.

"Right, then," I said curtly, my words bitter. "Well, if no one's going to arrest me, I think I'll go watch Sherlock with my other half here-" I pulled my hand out of my pocket so that I could jerk my thumb towards Loki, then stuffed it back into my pocket again- "And eat candy and popcorn until I puke." I shrugged, then added in a grumble, "Nothing better to do until Fraye shows up again, anyway."

I walked out of the room with purposeful but sullen steps, and seconds later, as though being pulled along by some invisible force, still silent as a tomb, Loki followed. The Avengers allowed him to pass without comment, watching him as he left. Slowly, one by one, exchanging glances with their teammates, the others also left, meandering out of the room, until only Stark and Steve remained.

The Soldier sighed, the weight of the world on his shoulders. "I guess you were right," He told Tony quietly, watching out the door, as though he could still see me walking away. "We are going to lose her."

Stark gave him a twisted grimace of a smile. "Oh, how wrong we both were, Lady Liberty," he mused sadly. Giving Steve a single, firm clap on the shoulder, shaking his head back and forth slowly, he said, "We've already lost her."

And then he, too, walked out of the training room.

Loki and I did not speak to each other as we went back to the elevator, up a few floors, and into my room. I don't really suppose there was much to say.

There was a small-for-Stark flatscreen TV set up against the wall, so I pulled out my DVD collection and shoved an episode of Sherlock inside, as promised, before I turned back and looked around at the rest of my room, at the mess inside of it. I had let that mess accumulate for a while, I realized, and, without a word, I got to work straightening the place out. The makeup on the counter went back in its drawer, the books on the floor went back on their shelf, the pencils and sketchpads scattered around at random went back in their case on my desk, and all with slow and exaggerated care. I tidied everything away with almost obsessive intensity.

Everything had to be put back into order. Everything had to be perfect.

As I shifted a book on its shelf, putting it in alphabetical order with the rest of them- something I'd never cared to do before, and I wondered why, it looked rather messy now that I thought about it- Loki looked up to me. I could sense the magic in the air as he cut off JARVIS' and Heimdal's vision to this room, could feel the Trickster's eyes on my back. I didn't comment on it, however, so the silence stretched on for another long few moments.

When he finally broke our silence, his voice was whisper-soft and hoarse, like he hadn't used it for days. Almost like he'd forgotten how to speak entirely. "Nothing?"

I moved another book into place. His words cracked as he went on, "You're going to say… nothing?"

I stopped, hand still on the book- some fantasy novel with monsters and dragons and a guaranteed happy ending- and just stood there for a moment. I closed my eyes and sighed, shoulders slumping, face turning down. My voice was as quiet as his, but I forced the pain out of it, forced a shot of Novocain into the words, so that they came out hollow, empty and numb.

"What do you want me to say?" I asked. "If your decision is made… it's made." I looked up again and pushed the book into place, picking up another from the stack beside me and putting it on the shelf. "And there's nothing I can do to stop you."

I could still feel him staring at me. But I carried on ignoring it, straightening my book shelf, clearing away the mess. "What I want you to say," he parroted breathlessly. "What I want you to say?" His voice quivered.

And then he laughed, a small, bitter, acrid, and partially hysterical laugh. It lasted for all of a second before dying, completely mirthless. "Very well," he said, with a touch of spite. "Very well, Frost, I shall tell you what I want you to say, for it seems that you are perfectly devoid of any desire to live!" He took a step towards me; I heard it fall against the carpet, felt him a stride closer to me. "I want you to defend yourself! For once in your life, Natalie Frost, stand up for yourself! Fight for your own life, not just that of your comrades, your species, not just the lives of others! I want you to try and stop this! To try and stop me! Because… because…" His words hitched in his throat, stuttering, dying. He turned away- I felt his stare leave my back- and shut his eyes tightly. "Because I do not know if I can refuse her without you!"

And there it was.

The words felt like broken glass in my ears. I looked down, wishing I could make them stop hurting. Wishing I could just erase this pain; a pain stronger than I should have felt.

"I do not know if I can refuse her regardless," Loki went on, almost oblivious but not quite. "But certainly not if you do not stop me! If you do not fight to live! For the sake of the realms, Frost, I need you to help me!"

Never had those words come out of Loki's mouth, never had he said them to me, never had any words been so desperate. I would've laughed if I could have; after all, how many times had I silently wished for him to say that? How long had I waited for him to ask for help?

And yet, as much as I had tried to help him, as much as I had wanted him to want help, as much as those words should have been a victory, they were not. I looked at my hands and saw smooth, unblemished skin on my arms, a shattered Key on my wrist. A blank canvas. And how many scars could Fraye paint there? How much could I take? How long before I snapped?

I closed my eyes and curled those hands into determined fists. The opening in my throat shrank to the width of a pencil, so I was choking on the words, beating them out of myself, but I knew they had to get out. I knew they had to be said. "Well, maybe that's the point. Maybe…" I tried to breathe and failed. "Maybe you shouldn't refuse her."

Loki's eyes went round, innocent with shock. I could feel the expression on his face, even if I couldn't see it. He fell silent again, just staring at me, so that the only sound was that of the TV playing in the background, drowning out our conversation from any prying ears that somehow managed to listen past the magical barriers Loki had put into place.

A little sound came out of me. It could have been a half-laugh, but it could also have been a snivel. Even I didn't know. "She said that she would spare the nine realms," I reminded him, my voice as gentle as I could make it. I felt strangely detached, floating somewhere else, as though I was talking about something else, someone else, a fictional character in a book, a person in a portrait, a personality in a poem. This wasn't about me or Loki or even Fraye. The things and people that I discussed were imaginary, unreal, fictitious, and had nothing to do with my life. "I mean, every realm but this one, and, well… eight out of nine isn't such a bad score, you know?" I think I smiled, think I laughed. "And Earth… Earth would still live on. You wouldn't kill everyone, wouldn't wipe out humanity, not like she would."

He didn't say anything. I don't think he could. He just stared at me, dumbstruck. I still didn't turn around to look at him; because I wasn't capable of meeting his eyes just now. I could barely get the words out as it was, fictitious or not.

"And yeah," I carried on, "Maybe they'd be enslaved until something happened to you, but at least they'd have the chance to fight that, at least they could…" I trailed off, then turned to Loki at last.

The instant I saw him, the instant I laid my eyes on him, I was struck with something powerful: an intense urge to say something, something very specific, and the words poured out of me without my permission. They came so quickly that they meshed and blurred together, so frenetic that my hands trembled, and so intense that my throat burned.

"Swear to me," I blurted out the burning words. "Swear to me that you'll leave the Avengers alive. That if you do this, if you take Fraye's 'deal', you'll let them live, let my family live. Because if the Avengers live, then, then… then maybe the Earth has a chance, you know? Then everything can go back to normal at some point, maybe they'll stop you, maybe-"

"FROST!"

He cut me off with his shout, a tone in his voice that I had never heard from him before. It was more than dangerous, more than dark; it was savage. His hands gripped my arms near the shoulders, his fingers digging in so deep that I could feel where they would leave five fingertip bruises on each side. But did one more bruise even matter anymore, with what was to come? Tears stung in my eyes, and I hiccupped a few times to avoid the sobs that were trying so hard to break out of me. I was terrified. I was absolutely terrified, and my entire body trembled to prove it.

"Tell me you are not saying this!" Loki carried on, shaking me just slightly, as though trying to rattle some sense into my brain. "Tell me that this is just another of your ill-conceived jests, your poorly timed jokes! Tell me you do not truly believe this!"

I didn't meet his eyes, which were trying to bore holes into mine, trying to dig out the truth, trying to find some evidence of mirth. When he saw no laughter in my face, saw nothing to indicate that I was anything but sincere, his grip slackened just slightly. He looked suddenly weaker, as though he was seconds from falling backwards or sinking to his knees, but he remained where he was so that he could keep his hold on me.

And then he lowered his voice to a gentle whisper; but it still held that tone I'd never heard before, that indescribable, bleak anger. "Tell me…" He all but begged. "That you do not want this."

The words snapped something in me, and my fear abruptly forged itself into anger. "Of course I don't want it!" I retorted, fighting tears. "I don't want any of it! And I'm enough of a coward that, yeah, I'll ask you not to do it! And if she gave me this choice, I don't even think that I could say yes, okay, because I'm scared to death, Loki! I'm scared out of my mind about what she'll do, but in the end- in the end-" I choked, the words in what could only be described as hysteria. "In the end, it isn't my choice, it never has been, it's yours! And you have to decide who you are! You have to decide what side you stand on!"

"And you are telling me to stand on the side of monsters!" He was back to shouting, now. "To stand on the side what you believe is the darkness, on the side of what you believe is evil! You are giving up on me! After all this time, you are telling me to accept that I cannot… can never… can never change! I thought… I thought you cared about what I was, about what I became! And now you're telling me to give up?!" he was shaking me again; or maybe I was just trembling. "After everything you have tried to do, everything we have been through, this is how it ends?!"

There was true desperation in every blood-soaked word. Sobs hitched in my throat as I tried to look away, I tried so hard, because I couldn't stand that look in his eye, that horrible misery on his face.

Everyone in my life has given up on me, his jade eyes seemed to scream at me. Everyone but you. And now, this monster inside me has finally broken you as well?

I kept my eyes closed tight, trying to block him out, but I just couldn't. "Maybe it has to be!" I shrieked in reply, finally opening my eyes to look at him, tears pouring down. "But this isn't just about you and me anymore! You've always known that I'll do whatever it takes to save our worlds! So if you have to become a monster and I have to die, then so be it! Because we don't matter! It doesn't matter how much I value my own life, it doesn't matter how much I love y-"

I shut up abruptly.

Loki's eyes grew rounder, and we both went quiet. The words lingered, unsaid, above us, dancing around our heads, mocking us in our silence.

There was a long moment in which I couldn't speak. I just studied his jade green eyes, those pools of fractured innocence. They were always swallowed by darkness, always polluted by hate… but just now, just for this moment, they were completely guileless. All they knew and all they wanted to know was the words I had almost said. And yet, I could see the fear in his eyes. The fear of those words, the denial of their truth.

"Frost…?" he prodded gently, his voice trembling and his grip slackening. My own eyes went down, and no matter how hard he tried to meet my gaze, I kept myself from doing so. I kept my eyes firmly on the carpet, on my shoes, on anything but him.

He tried again, "Frost…. What… what are you saying…?"

I tried squeezing my eyes shut again. It still didn't work. The words were still there. "Do you really need to hear it? After all this time… with me in your head… do you really need me to say it out loud?"

When he did not reply for a long moment, I looked to him. There was still that frightened innocence on his face, and I couldn't stop the words from snapping out. "Fine. Fine. I love you. Is that what you want to hear? What you need to hear? Let me say it again for you: I love you, you stupid son of a bitch."

And then, as he kept staring at me, I sighed deeply and added, "I don't know why I love you. I wish I didn't. But that doesn't matter, because I do." For just a second, I tried to meet his eyes. Tried to match his gaze. I couldn't. He looked… shattered. So I turned away again.

"I know you don't feel the same way. I don't even know if you're capable of feeling the same way, especially for a human. But even after everything we've been through, everything we've done, everything that you've done to me, and I've done to you… I still love you."

For a brief time, we were both still. My face was boiling, my heart screaming, my throat tighter than ever. But Loki seemed far worse off, because when he finally spoke, his voice was tiny. Like he was only two inches tall; or at least felt that way. "Natalie… I… If I'd known…"

I closed my eyes and shook my head, cutting him off before he could go on. "You knew. Don't act like you didn't. I've known for a few days now, and, well… I can't keep anything from you." I looked to him, my eyes shining with some more tears, ones that I refused to shed… but too late, there were a few of them on my cheeks already, crystalline droplets that glittered in the artificial light.

"Hell, you probably knew even before I did," I went on with a little laugh. I don't know why I laughed. None of this was funny. "I don't think you even knew what you knew, but you knew something, because you know me better than I know myself. I mean…" Another little laugh spilled out, "Why else would you have pulled that trick with the 'kiss'? And all those other little jokes, and that 'boyfriend' excuse that I gave to Ben and the 'mortal lover' one that you gave to Kiross…? You knew, and it doesn't even matter." I heaved a massive sigh, running my hands over my face. I had once accepted the fact that I could never fall in love. I had accepted the fact that I could never have someone love me in return. And now I'd fallen in love with the one person in the universe that I could possibly have… and he was still out of my reach.

He always would be.

My stomach kept twisting as I kept trying to avoid looking directly at him. "Don't you see, Loki? None of it matters. Because, no matter how scared I am for my life, no matter how much I love you… Saving everyone else takes priority over my life and your conscience." I looked to him at last, my eyes still flooded. It was getting harder and harder to see through the tears, but I could see a terrible darkness, a storm brewing inside of him. Desperation- and fear- sinking in yet again, I quickly blurted out, "But I don't want this. And I know that you can refuse her; I know that you're capable of it! And I'm not just saying that I think you could, I am confident that you can! But it's not about capabilities anymore, it's not about what you can or can't do, it's about your choice!"

"Between you and the Earth?" He demanded, his voice hoarse as he cut me off. "Or between man and monster?" He shook his head violently. His gestures were more chaotic than usual, more vehement than usual. His insanely tight control over himself had, for this moment, completely vanished. "And did it ever once occur to you that I could rule the Earth in the way that my father would? The way that Thor would? The way that you believe is just and right? Did it ever once occur to you that I could be a wise king, a good king?"

"I know you could!" I shrieked, and his eyes went wide again. He took a step back, releasing my arms at last, stumbling back a bit. As he fell back, I stepped forwards, remaining within a few inches of him at all times. "Of course you could! You could be the greatest of the great, you could be better than any of them, Loki, and to me…" The tears refused yet again to stay in my eyes, dribbling down my cheeks and all the way to my chin. "To me you already are! And you always have been!"

I knew that the words were like a blow to his chest, but they were like a hole in mine. I was ripping the truth out of myself and flinging it towards him, weapons created out of the deepest of secrets.

"And if you had a crown," I went on, "If you had a throne, then you could be- should be- a great ruler! But tell me the truth, Loki: with the Avengers beneath your heel and the world on its knees, with me ripped out of your head, with the link splitting you in two, with yourself in that much agony… do you really think that you would have any inclination to follow along with my definition of greatness?"

Loki's eyes did not leave me, wide and glassy, filled with the pain of my admission and questions that needed answers. I shook my head, pressing my lips together tightly, and wiped my nose-which had begun to run- with the back of my hand. I choked on a sob, tried to stifle it, and was unsuccessful. Taking a few breaths to try and stop the ever-creeping hysteria, I went on in a slightly quieter voice, "What would stop you from being a monster, Loki? My memory? The memory of what you once had? The memory of how much I care about you, of how much Thor and Odin and Frigga care about you?" I looked to him pleadingly, hopelessly. "Would you even have that memory anymore? Would you even want it? Or would you just want to stuff it aside, push it away, bury it inside of the shadows, just to get rid of the pain it causes you?"

He didn't respond. There was no response to that. I wiped my face furiously, wishing that I could dry my eyes, thinking that I should have this all cried out already. "Would you want to think of yourself as we thought of you? As a good man, a good king? Would you want to be anything but a monster?" I tried to keep my voice from shaking, but I was just so scared. I was terrified and I was hurt, hurt because he was considering this, hurt because I wanted to matter to him, I wanted to matter more than the throne, matter more than this… this sick dream of his…

But I knew I didn't. I loved him: not the other way around.

I looked down and away. "I truly, truly, with all of my mortal heart,believe that you could be a great king. Just like I truly believe that you could refuse her, if that's what you wanted to do." I forced myself to look back at him. "But the question is… will you? Should you?" I shook my head. "And it's a question… it's a question I don't even know the answer to." My voice went very small; almost silent. Loki looked surprisingly… weakened by the events of the day, and after a moment, he staggered back a final few steps, almost falling into a seated position on the bed.

After a long silence, he buried his face in his hands, his breathing still as shaky as mine. I wiped my tears away again- knowing that it was doing no good, knowing that they were still coming- and sat down next to him. I don't know what was worse: the fact that, despite his contemplation of my demise, I still loved him… or the fact that he knew that I did.

Exhausted, I reached out and tried to take his arm, to hold on to something normal, something safe. He wrenched it out of my grasp.

"Don't," he ordered in a breath.

I looked to him, as hurt by this rejection as I might have been by a physical blow. He saw the injury in my eyes and closed his own, shaking his head back and forth. "Don't do that, Frost. Do not cling to me as I contemplate your torture and execution."

I bit my lip at the harshness of that statement, but I complied, moving my twisting hands to my lap. He heaved a sigh so deep that his entire back slouched, his head hanging, his elbows on his knees. He put his face in his hands again, shaking his head. A strange noise slipped out of him, some kind of twisted cross between a groan, a sigh, and a laugh, and then we were silent. It was a silence that stretched, a silence that went into eternity as the TV droned on.

I was about to speak at long last, to comment on how sick it all was, on how twisted and messed up our lives had become, that I could still love him and he could still want me dead, even after all this time… but then Loki voiced his own thoughts, interrupting me before I had the chance. The words were pained and oddly childlike.

"I do not wish to lose you, Natalie."

The words seemed to come from the very basest core of his being, a truth so unlike what he was used to speaking. Surely it would slice this liar's lips as it left them, surely it would cut deeply into him, as sharp and lethal as a razor's edge. Or perhaps it would poison him; with its foul taste creeping down his throat and souring his blood, for he was a liar born and raised, and he was incapable of such truths…

Pain and pity lanced through me- pity for the man who may yet kill me- and, regardless of my standing orders to not cling to him, I caved and wrapped my arms around him anyway. I trapped his arms under mine, pinning them against his sides, and rested my forehead on his shoulder as I hugged him sideways. "I don't want to lose you, either, Loki," I said, and this too, came from my core. What would I be without him? What would he be without me? We had been so interlocked and intertwined for so long that we had forgotten who we were when we were apart.

And why would we ever want to be apart? Even if he didn't love me, why would he want to lose me?

He removed his arms from my hold, and suddenly they were around me, holding me tight enough to crush the air out of my lungs. His thoughts were chaotic, his emotions even more so: spinning questions of why the universe hated him so terribly, of what he was meant to do. He wondered if he was truly fated to be such a hideous, nightmare creature. And, if he was not fated to become that, then why was his life always so determined to forge him as such?

And why did he have to lose me, just when he was beginning to accept that he wouldn't? Just when he was beginning to think that I would always be by his side? Just when he was beginning to delude himself into believing that maybe someone could care for him, that someone could love the child of a Frost Giant…?

But the promise of a throne, the promise of life beyond Fraye, the promise of freedom and a crown… it was all he could do to not cast me aside immediately, to not accept immediately, regardless of what it would do to his mind, regardless of how his head would ache and his life seem empty. He didn't care. He did not care if he felt as though he were dying every day; the truth was that he would live, and he would live as a king…

This line of thought continued for a very long time, and I could see it in his head: his plans for his armies, for the people of earth. How he would enforce humanity's obedience to the crown, their obedience to him, force them all to their knees. And all I could do was begin trembling again as my mind traveled to where I would be during these times. While he ruled, while the crown rested atop his head, I would be within the clutches of Fraye, the mad, the powerful, the insane Shadow Child. I was remembering the scars on Loki's back, remembering how twisted and raw and burnt they were, remembering what she was capable of.

My eyes squeezed shut as I tried to stifle another sob; but I was unsuccessful, and Loki looked to me, shocked out of his thoughts of blood and death, brought back to remembering what that throne would cost him. I ran my hand over my arm, where I had so frequently had dreams of Fraye, carving her name into the skin there…

Would those dreams, like so many others she liked to give, inevitably come true?

Loki carefully released me, lifted me off of himself, hands on my shoulders once again. "Just tell me this, Natalie Frost," he whispered, and my name shivered in his voice. His eyes were softer than they had been earlier. "Tell me that you are not saying this- that you would not allow me to go through with this- just because you love me."

I knew why he was asking this: because he didn't think he was worth it. Because, no matter how I loved him, he didn't really think that he could be loved, didn't think that he was worth being loved.

And he certainly didn't think he was worth someone dying for him…

And maybe he didn't know that was why he was asking this, but I did. I knew from the second the words formed in his brain. But already, I was shaking my head. "No," I replied firmly. "That's not why at all. If my loving you had any influence on my decisions about my planet, I'd tell you that you absolutely could not do this." I rested my hand on his arm. "You won't be happy with this, Loki. Even if I could still, somehow, remain in your head, if you were still, somehow whole… You don't want the throne. You don't want this, not really. And you'd never be happy with it."

His eyes twisted, became rueful; he very much disagreed with me there. He wanted it so badly that it was a physical ache; because wouldn't he prove to his brother then, his father then, that he was the greatest of kings, that they had been foolish for all of those years, that his rule was greater than theirs could ever be…?

But still, he seemed determined to convince me out of this decision; when I was not the one who needed convincing. "She will break you." He whispered, his voice little more than a murmur. "She will break you into pieces, shatter you, splinter a thousand cracks inside of you." He looked to me, shaking again. "You don't know what she's capable of, Frost," he whispered, and there was true fear in his voice. Fear and terrible, terrible respect. He spoke only from the rawest, most real experiences of his own life now, and I could hear it in every tremor of his voice, see it in every angle of his face.

I thought over his words, and thought about his scars, about the Jotuns. I thought about the things that Fraye had done and said and manipulated. And then I took his hand, rolling up his sleeve, and traced my fingers along the few scars that had still to profit from the Healer's help, the ones that still showed through plain as day. "Yeah," I whispered in return. "I think I do."

"No," He growled, and in a radical shift of tone, he became fierce and violent again. I was startled by the danger in that tone, the pure loathing and aggression, so startled that I shut up immediately. "No, Frost, you don't."

And then his hands, once more on my arms, began to dig in again, dig in to my would-be bruises. I barely noticed because, at that second, a wall was broken down, a floodgate released, and suddenly I was overwhelmed and cascaded by a staggering flow of emotion and memory, a never-ending surge of fear and pain and anxiety…

And I was strapped to a chair, hearing her whispers behind me, feeling the lash of pain against my back, carved into that familiar pattern, that ever-present tattoo that was her name in symbols between my shoulder blades…

My heart kicked up its speed again.

I was screaming as agony whipped and curled around my arms and legs, as the shadows crossed over my mouth and gagged me, as the tears poured down, drawn by her scorn and the pain she caused…

But then I was waiting in the dark for the next strike, never knowing where it would come from next, just… sitting, in the shadows, waiting for her return. I knew that she would return and yet I was so exhausted that I could not stop my eyelids from falling, could not stop sleep from claiming me…

I was torn between myself and Loki, torn between the experience of these memories and the look on his face that I could see, the look on his face as he shared these- the darkest of his moments- with me at long last.

I was locked in a room, in the place that she kept me when she was bored of me, when I was too weak to try and fight her as she shoved me inside. There was a place to bathe and bandages, and there was water and food and I could only hope that it was poisoned, that it was some kind of escape from this nightmare. But of course it was not; she would never be so kind. And as I tried to stop the bleeding on my arms, my back, tried to bandage or heal the injuries (though my magic had been far diminished by exhaustion and suppressed by her very presence), I bit my lip to keep from screaming in frustration. Why wouldn't she tell me what she wanted from me? Surely she knew what a coward I was, surely she knew that I would not cling to any information as desperately as she was trying to rip it out of me… surely she must know that I would give her anything she wanted, if only to save my own skin. I did not even care if the pain stopped with life or death anymore, whether she set me free or slayed me where I stood. I just needed it to end…

There was more. There was darker. There were memories for each and every one of his scars; the ones lined up in a row, the ones that twisted and turned, the blackened edges of her name on his back. I saw each of them as they were painted on his skin. They flickered by so fast that I sat only there for perhaps a minute, but it was still the longest minute of my life. And it is a minute filled with many things that I could never share, never repeat, never say aloud.

And then I was planning to escape, desperately trying to gauge my surroundings… and finally, finally I was running, but I knew that she was following, knew that my plan had failed and she was coming after me. And regardless of how I knew that she would catch me, I kept running. I couldn't stop. Knowing what she would do to me when she caught me kept me running. Kept me fleeing. All with her shadow looming above me, creeping after me…

When the streaming flow of memories that he had thrown at me finallyended, I looked at Loki, my eyes tearing up once more, my heart beating so quickly that it was beginning to make my chest hurt. It was so fast that my entire body was beginning to ache from the screaming rush of blood in my veins. I pulled my hands-hands which felt brittle and sore- away from him, but I could still feel each and every cut, bruise, and injury that she had given him, and I could feel them on me, on my own skin.

Loki, on the other hand, was ashen-faced once more. In showing me these memories, he, too, had been forced to relive them; and baring his darkest moments to someone so freely like that… it cut him up on the inside, put him into a cold sweat. He blinked rapidly as he looked away from me, trying to clear the wetness out of his own eyes. He cleared his throat, but his voice was still cracked and hoarse as he said, "Now you know," in a colorless tone.

"Now you know," he repeated after a moment, glimmers of life returning to him as he went on, "That is what she will do to you, Frost. She only had me for a few months, but you… you could live for far longer. Live until you become lifeless, live until pain no longer has meaning to you, until you become just a shell of what you were, and she no longer has use for you. You would live until there was nothing left of you to die."

My entire body was trembling, and it hurt, it hurt from those phantom injuries that were not on my body, but on his. The lines of the shadow lash, the twisted, blackened ropes of scar tissue from the shadow knife, burning, singeing, breaking. My eyes closed. "Now I know," I agreed, and I was distant again. Distant and young, like I was a child again, the child whose life he altered. "And now that I know, Loki… does it change anything? Are the nine realms out of danger? Do you not still wish to be king? Has she not offered you a deal?"

He didn't answer me. Just looked at me as I turned my broken gaze back to him.

"It doesn't change anything, Loki," I shook my head slowly. "It just means that I'm more terrified then ever."

His face shifted, became haggard and worn out. He sighed very heavily, and I moved a little closer to him. I could sense that he was beginning to waver, beginning to recognize that it was not I who needed convincing.

"I'm not going to tell you what choice to make," I said, confirming that for him. "I don't know what the right way forward is." I swallowed tightly, and placed my hand on his arm. "But, if you do this… if you give me up…" Swallowing through a thin throat, I said, "Well, even if it destroys us, it will save the nine realms. And that's been my goal since the beginning." I laced my hand in his. He didn't protest this time. I think he was too numb to protest to anything.

"So I'm not going to tell the Avengers anything, and I'm not going to let them take you away. So you're free to make whatever choice you make."

The words killed me to say. Because everything in me was screaming, ordering me to tell Loki not to do this, to beg him not to do this. I wanted to cry and scream and plead for my life, because, for the first time in a very long time, I was actually scared to die.

Maybe I finally had something to live for, loving him as I did.

But I forced these words back, because, my emotions aside, my fear aside, my life aside… this was Loki's decision, and this was a war for worlds, and one way or another, I was probably going to die anyway, so it didn't even matter anymore.

Loki watched me for a moment, his eyes on mine. And then, slowly, he placed his arm around my shoulders before pulling me into his side. I went with it, resting my head on his chest, and the two of us stayed like that for a long time. It felt so twisted, so wrong, that he could think about killing me and yet want me in his arms at the same time… That he could want to make sure that I was still here and still alive, that he could want to protect me… while at the same time he was debating whether or not it would suit him if I died. But I didn't say anything. I didn't even let myself think about it. And I did my absolute best not to think about what lay ahead for me in either scenario.

After a long while, we found that we had repositioned ourselves, inch by inch, until we were facing the TV. Like we were actually watching it or something. I kept my head on Loki's chest and he kept his arm around me, but we did not speak to each other. Every so often, my thoughts would go too far dark to keep the tears from pouring down my cheeks, and I could feel his thoughts twisting and turning as well, but neither of us commented on the other's pain or contemplations. We simply sat there, pretending to watch the show, somehow managing to return to the comfortable silence that we always fell into whenever we were alone. Somehow, we managed to return to the people we were at our base and core; the people that the link made us into, the people who shared a mind and who were exactly the same; even if our hearts were torn apart, travelling in opposite directions.

As it turned out, it was a good thing that we at least kept up some appearances; because after a long time of us lying there, Thor knocked on the door, and walked inside to check on us. He smiled and acted as though he was really here to just say hello, to reassure us, but no one was fooled. And he wasn't stupid enough to think that we were; after a few moments, he left the room without a goodbye, off to inform the Avengers of how we were, for all intents and purposes, doing 'just fine'.

Thor walked into the room where the Avengers waited, tense and nervous, and he sighed deeply. "They are together, and they seem content to be so," he informed them. "It would appear that Natalie is telling the truth; my brother will not accept Fraye's pact."

Natasha's thumb stroked her gun slowly, carefully, her hand wrapped around it so tightly that her knuckles were white. She turned to Tony, who was studying the footage of our room from the holo-table, and inquired, "Stark?"

He shrugged. "Nothing new. They discussed things in their heads for a bit, then sat down and watched TV." He gestured to the footage, where a holographic blue versions of myself and Loki were clearly having a conversation; at least, the expressions and gestures indicated as much, but the lips were unmoving, silent.

"And there's no way they could have tampered with that?" Natasha asked.

"I built JARVIS myself; it's not possible." As usual, Tony's arrogance kept JARVIS from having to reply to that. The AI did not correct his creator/employer.

A slouching Steve rubbed his forehead with one hand. "Well, she wasn't wrong about the Jotuns," he said wearily. "Even if we did manage to convince them that we were in the right about locking Loki away, if we did the same to Natalie, there's no way they'd forgive it." He swallowed before admitting the truth that no one else wanted to: "We have to trust him."

"That's not going to happen," Stark retorted bluntly, turning the footage off before kicking his feet up on the table, tilting his chair back on two legs and folding his arms.

"Well, we can't lock him up," Banner said, looking contemplative. "They've both made sure of that."

There was a collective silence for a long time. And then Stark slammed both of his chair legs back onto the floor, his palms slapping against the table. "All right, I'll say it if no one else will: what if Clint was right? Not about everything, obviously, but what if Fraye and Loki really are working together? What if he can lie to Natalie?"

"Why put on this show?" Natasha inquired, clearly doubtful.

"To convince Natalie to go along with it?" Banner suggested, but he looked extremely dubious and, after a moment, shook his head. "No, that's too far-fetched. Loki may be convoluted, but that's too far even for him."

Again, collective silence. Then, Thor spoke up, "I know very little about the magic that binds my brother and the Lady Frost, but I know that it is powerful. It would greatly damage them both if Natalie were to be removed from his mind at this time, and it is all but impossible for Loki to lie to Natalie. And she is likely telling the truth; he cannot do this, regardless of what Fraye said."

"I wouldn't go that far," Natasha answered darkly. "But I don't think that there's anything we can do but accept the fact that Earth's fate is back in Loki's hands."

The weight of that statement made the room ring for a long moment. And then Stark breathed a curse not meant for delicate ears.

"Well ain't that just fantastic?" He asked, sarcasm dripping. "Let's just give over our planet to the guy with the cockroach helmet, this sounds like a wonderful plan! Hey, maybe if we're lucky, he'll kill us in our sleep! You think?"

Thor bristled. "Natalie would not allow Loki to do anything to hurt her world. Even if I can no longer be confident of my brother's loyalties, I will always be certain of hers."

Everyone looked to him, the Thunderer, so firm in his resolution. And slowly, one by one, their eyes turned away.

After a while, Steve stood. He placed a hand on Thor's shoulder, nodding slowly, then walked out of the room. One by one, the others followed, dispersing throughout the rest of the Tower without another word.

"I was wondering when you'd come."

I bit my lip. The words came from inside the shadows of a prison cell, accompanied with a gleam of white teeth in the darkness as its occupant smiled softly. At first glance, Clint seemed rather relaxed, leaning against the wall with his arms loosely folded, but there was a wry glint in his eyes, which pinpointed mine exactly.

Considering the fact that Clint was an Avenger-a very dangerous being- I had thought that his cell would be some fancy-pants, high-tech affair; but it seemed rather standard, all things considered. The cell had thick bars and no windows, a keypad lock, and a camera observing from on high in the corner of the room, but that was the most high-tech trickery that I could see. Still, I knew that it had to hold some hidden tricks, otherwise the Hawk would've escaped from it long ago.

I glanced to the camera briefly, wondering if those behind it were focusing on the Hawk, ensuring that he would do no harm, or focusing on me, ensuring that I wouldn't. It didn't matter either way, I supposed, pulling up a chair and sitting down outside of his cell. Folding my arms over my chest and turning my attention back to Clint, I said, "And you knew that I would?"

He chuckled once. "Naturally," he answered breezily. "The second Natasha told me about Fraye's little 'deal'… well, I knew it was just a matter of time."

I supposed I shouldn't have been surprised that Clint had realized I would visit him; but I hadn't even figured out myself that I would do so until this morning.

The night before had been a long one, lying next to Loki, the two of us trying to sleep. And though we were safe from the nightmares, neither of us was safe from the chaos of our own heads, our conflicting emotions. But Loki had eventually sworn that he would make no decision, at least until morning, so that I could sleep peacefully and without fear, and so I tried. I tried to sleep. But it was hopeless; neither of us managed to sleep for longer than half an hour to an hour at a time.

But when morning came, I had things figured out a little better, and the list of things I needed to do was all sorted out in my head. By the time I'd eaten breakfast, I had narrowed it down into one priority, one thing that was absolutely necessary… I neededto see Clint.

I needed to be here.

So, after changing into a sturdy-but-loose outfit, after I'd made certain that the Avengers probably wouldn't try anything, and after Natasha had returned from her annual visit with the archer, I'd stepped up to the Avengers and told them of my plans for the day.

"And if you try to arrest Loki while I'm gone," I'd added mercilessly as I stepped out of the door, "I'll know."

The directions to the nearest S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters had been given to me a long while back; and I'd been forced to memorize and burn them. I headed there and waited for my ride to Clint's cell-the location of which, given my connection to Loki, I was not allowed to know- and was blindfolded and driven there by what was no doubt a very circuitous path.

Really, overkill much?

Well, they were spies after all. At least they were letting me see him.

Clint took a seat on a bench on the side of his cell, so that I was looking at his profile, and his eyes slid to the side so that he could look at me. "You still standing behind your belief that she's not working for him?" he asked.

"You still standing behind the belief that she is?" I countered without hesitation, trying to push away the prickle of unease that was beginning to form in my stomach, the hair that stood up on the back of my neck. He chuckled and leaned his head back against the wall, closing his eyes.

"So tell me, if you know everything," I said caustically, still somewhat upset that he'd known before I did that I would come here. "Why am I here?"

Because I don't have a freaking clue, I didn't add.

Clint snickered again. Was that Fraye's laughter behind his lips? Or was it his own? Who was he today, who was he yesterday, who would he be tomorrow? His eyes opened again and landed on me, looking out of their corner so that he would not have to turn his head. "Don't you know?" As my eyes narrowed, he rolled his, turning his face to me again. "Oh, come on, Natalie. I'm surprised the others haven't seen right through you yet." He turned around entirely, so that he was sitting on the edge of his bench, watching me with eyes that glittered. "Tell me, when exactly does doomsday come? When is he going to hand you over? When does Earth fall?"

My blood went cold. I felt my chest get very tight; or maybe the air in the room just got thinner. I cleared my throat in an effort to make my breathing easier; with no luck.

Maybe I had fooled everyone else. Maybe they did believe me when I said that Loki wouldn't give me to Fraye. But Clint saw through every last lie I told; and he knew. He knew that there was every possibility that our world would end up in Loki's hands before long.

Suddenly Clint lurched forwards, onto his feet, startling me out of my dark thoughts. "Or maybe you'd understand me better if I asked about Ragnarok and Midgard," he hissed, spewing the words out through the bars as his face pressed between them. "That's what he'd call it, wouldn't he? Isn't that what you've been calling it? Because you're turning into him?"

He spat these words out with the utmost of venom, but as I watched, the most curious of things happened. Clint tilted his head to a certain angle, and winked his right eye- the eye that was not facing the camera- while the right side of his lip twitched upwards. I stared at him, not comprehending; it was almost a show of camaraderie, of conspiracy between friends. After a few seconds- so that it would not seem out of place- I discreetly glanced to the camera, making it seem as though I was searching all over the room, looking for some form of help. From that angle, the gesture would not have been seen. But then, Clint saw everything; it wouldn't have been difficult for him to discover a camera's blind spot…

But why? Why wink at all, why smile at me? What was the conspiracy, what was the camaraderie? I couldn't outright ask, but as he kept talking, I listened much more closely to his words, trying to find any hidden meanings to them.

"I know what you're going to do, Frost. Give up one world to save the others, right? Ha!" he barked out his sarcastic laugh, and suddenly it clicked. My heart started hammering, but no longer from fear. I was abruptly ecstatic, in the sickest way possible.

Because Clint might have been Fraye yesterday, and he might be Fraye tomorrow, but today… today he was all Clint. Even if he was doing everything in his power to make it look like he wasn't. That stuff about how I was turning into Loki… it was his way of making himself look more paranoid than he was, so that the S.H.I.E.L.D. agents wouldn't take notice, wouldn't heed any of his words. So that they wouldn't hear the double meanings that I did.

My brain scrambled to think of a way to indicate my understanding, to show him that I was now in on the conspiracy. There wasn't one, not yet; so I fell into the act instead. "You're delusional," I snapped. "You think I care more about the other realms than my own? You think I'm really that suicidal?"

He lurched at me again, rattling the bars. By thrones and kings, this man was a phenomenal actor. I would have applauded the spy if I wasn't worried about blowing his cover. "I'm delusional?" he growled. "You're the one with the psychopath in your brain!"

I scoffed, rolling my eyes as though disgusted. "You never answered my question, Shadow Puppet. Why, in your great and mighty hallucination, would I come here? What's your justification for that?"

"It's not a justification," He retorted, and I heard him, my Clint, in those words. "It's fact."

Another double meaning. This was what he saw- the real Clint saw- as fact. Whatever he said next would be what he really thought; not what a shadow might tell him, or what the S.H.I.E.L.D. people who were monitoring him would expect him to say.

"You're here to say goodbye," he snarled, but I ignored the tone-= it was fake, after all- and listened to the real Clint's words within. "You're here to fix what's broken. To fix your greatest mistakes."

I blinked, stunned. Because he was right. Clint knew who- and what- I was; I was the kind of person who fixed people. Who thought of this, thought of Clint, as a mistake I made, not a cruelty that Fraye had inflicted.

But I forced myself not to show my surprise, rolling my eyes and scoffing again. "There is no fixing you, Barton. Not until Fraye is dead." That wasn't a lie. It wasn't true, but it wasn't a lie, either.

"Or gone," he retorted. Chills ran through me; those were his real words again. And he really thought that. He really knew that I was going to be all right with it- or at the very least, that I was not going to challenge it- if Loki decided to take the Earth and give me up. He thought that when Fraye left the planet, she'd release his mind for good. And he was probably right; what would be the point in keeping him brainwashed once Loki ruled the world?

"No." I said firmly, though I looked away to show him that I didn't believe it. That these words were the act. That I was lying again. "No, Clint, we're going to kill her. Together. We're going to fight together- all of us, the Avengers, Loki, and me." I turned a false glare towards him, but I made my eyes lock on his.

"And I hope, when the time comes, you'll be able to destroy the monster that holds our world in its grip," I said- all my words, all the truth- and I made sure to omit Fraye's name. It was no longer Fraye that I was talking about.

Clint seemed to recognize that. Seemed to know that what I was asking him to fight - the monster I was asking him to destroy- would not be Fraye. I was talking about Clint and the Avengers taking Loki down, removing him from the throne after I was gone. They would have to do so at some point, that's why I'd told Loki to swear, that was why I was going to make him swear to leave them alive…

Clint's eyes softened at these words. He staggered back, as though… pained. He looked down, and when he spoke again, his voice was hoarse. He forced a glare at me, but I could see in his eyes that it was false. "When the time comes… I'll make sure you didn't die for nothing," he swore to me, also choosing his words carefully. His hand tightened on the bars as he laughed in pain. "Because you're already dead, Natalie," he whispered, and I shuddered; for it was true and it was false. It followed along with the tone of his lie… but as far as this deal was concerned… it might as well have been true.

But I had his word. He'd told me that he would fight… and that was as close to 'fixing' everything that I'd done wrong to Clint as I could get. I shook my head angrily, as though I was ticked off, then suddenly lurched to my feet and strode to the bars.

"You're full of it!" I hissed at him, but my hand grabbed his; and I squeezed it tightly, once. He squeezed it in return, keeping it in the camera's blind spot. "You're sick, Clint! You're just sick!"

I tilted my head to the angle that he had, gave him a quick wink, and then bolted out the door, as though furious.

My head spun all the way back to the S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters, all the way until I got back into the car, was blindfolded, and the driver took off with me in the backseat.

Once I got back to my own car, I spent a great deal of time just driving around the city, thinking about what Clint had said. First off: the fact that he knew that Loki might take this deal, knew that I might let him -the fact that Clint was letting me do so, that he possibly even approved of me doing so- well, it made me feel a little better about the whole thing. Not a lot, mind, that's kinda impossible, but a little.

Second: he had talked about how I had gone to him to fix my mistake. It was true, he was one of my greatest mistakes (I knew there was nothing I could have done to help him, to keep him from being brainwashed, but I always felt that I could have handled things better, could have done things better), but he wasn't my biggest mistake.

He wasn't the only thing that I had botched up over my twenty-one years of life on this world. For a while, I drove in circles, trying to think of my greatest wrongs, trying to think of the things that I could turn right. But in all honesty, I knew what they were. I knew them all.

Of course, the first stop was the graveyard. With fresh flowers for my most visited grave. A sad smile and a whisper that maybe I'd see her soon. But I could only stay in a cemetery for so long before I began to imagine those stones coming to life, began to imagine the ground trying to swallow me with round, grey, tombstone teeth.

The next stop was a place I couldn't go. After another attempt on her own life, Mrs. Blackthorn was no longer allowed visitors for the moment; I called Uncle Kevin to talk it over with him, but it went to voice mail. Not so surprising; Kevin was infamous for forgetting his phone; and, when he did have it, forgetting how to use the dang thing.

So I drove. And I kept driving. And I didn't know where I was going, only that my head and heart kept hurting, only that I knew I had to go to that place, the place I wished to go the least…

At last, I pulled into the driveway and turned the engine off. I sat in the driver's seat for a long time, listening to the random, static-infused music on the radio, my eyes closed. Yes, here it was. My greatest mistake. Because I'd had him for a year before I lost him, and I didn't use the time I had, I didn't do what I should have done, and now I was going to die without him ever realizing the truth about how much he meant to me…

A sob hitched in my throat, and I pushed it back, forcing myself to open the car door, forcing myself to pull the key from the ignition and to step out of the car, forcing myself down the walkway and up to the door. I rapped my knuckles against it, making it loud, announcing my presence so that I would have no chance to back out. And all the while I was repeating a mantra to myself: I'm not going to die. Loki's going to make a different choice. I matter enough for this. I matter enough to someone for this.

I knew I was lying to myself. That didn't stop me from doing it anyway, though. What's the point of lying well if you can't tell yourself a tall tale from time to time?

After a few moments, the door opened, and my mother stood in the doorway. "Natalie!" She exclaimed; half in joy, half in fear. Because what else would my arrival bring here, to this place, after all this time, with my father the way he was?

I gave my mother a brisk hug, but it was mostly to appease her, to mollify her, and to turn her around so that I could get inside of the house. But the instant my arms were around her, I found that I didn't want to let go. I didn't want her to slip away. I didn't want me to slip away.

"Natalie?" My mother asked, a trace of worry in her voice. "Is everything okay, sweetie?"

"Everything's fine, mom," I lied through my teeth, and I knew she didn't believe me, because when I pulled back I had to wipe a tear from my cheek. "Is he here?"

She bit her lip. "Dear, I don't think it's a good idea for you two to-"

"Is he here?"

She studied me for a moment. Then, slowly, she nodded once. "Yes," She answered. "He's… he's in the kitchen."

I nodded curtly and started stalking towards the kitchen, my mother tagging along after me. "What are you going to do?" She asked, her voice probably a little more shrill than she'd intended. I ignored her, pushing my way through the house and into the kitchen, where my dad was making lunch.

"We're out of mustard agai-" My father stopped mid-sentence, mid-word, as he caught sight of me. I stared at him. Cameron Frost, the man of my nightmares, the father that I'd always wanted and finally had, the man who hated me and who I had hated so many times… the man that I could never say 'I love you' to, no matter how hard I tried…

He set his plate down. "What are you doing here, Natalie?"

It was only then that I noticed a perch in the doorway between the kitchen and the living room. It was a simple thing, just a long, thin vertical bar with a horizontal one atop it. And on it rested that crow- that damned crow- that crow that had followed my parents from Asgard, that they had apparently taken in… it had a food and water dish nearby, possibly a cage somewhere else in the house… but right now its black shape rested atop the perch and watched me with beady onyx eyes. It seemed to reflect and echo my father's question: what are you doing here, Natalie?

But it distorted that question, twisted those words, so that they became Fraye's… what are you doing to yourself, Natalie? What pain are you causing yourself? What pain will you inflict upon yourself, long before I can ever touch you?

I bit my lip so hard I feared it would bleed, though it didn't. I'm here to strangle me a crow, sound good to you? I mentally snarled at the bird. As though it heard my thoughts- and it probably did- it cawed, fluffing its feathers and flapping its wings a few times. I contemplated walking over to its perch and wringing its little birdy neck, but decided against it as I met Cameron's ice-blue eyes, as I met his dark stare.

Why was I here?

I stepped forwards. He stepped back. I advanced three fast steps, too quickly for him to step away, and threw my arms around him. He stiffened beneath my grip, but I only held him tighter, didn't let him struggle out of my grasp.

"I'm here because I love you, you stupid idiot," I whispered in a breath. "And no matter how much you hate me, no matter what you do, you're not going to stop that." I clasped my hands together behind his back and was not surprised to hear my voice crack as I added, "So why bother?"

"Natalie-" My father started to protest, but I cut him off.

"Please," I whispered, burying my face in his chest. "Please, daddy. Please."

The room went silent. I felt my mother's eyes on my back. I felt the tears pouring down my face. "Please," I pleaded, and kept pleading.

Please, I whispered in my head, Please, I don't want to die… I don't want this… I don't want this pain anymore…

My father slid his arms out from under mine, but slowly, carefully, he wrapped them around me instead. "It… it's okay, kid," he whispered, his voice oddly gruff. "You'll… we'll be okay. I swear."

He was wrong. I wouldn't be okay. We wouldn't be okay. None of us would ever be okay again. But I held him close and I let him be wrong.

I don't want him to be the one who kills me…

And for the first time in my life, I let myself cry in my father's arms.

Loki was sitting in one of the living rooms, his chin in one hand, his gaze distant. Steve was in the room with him -he knew that the Avengers would be uncomfortable with leaving him alone at the moment- but the Soldier and the Trickster had not spoken a word to each other; indeed, Loki didn't think that he'd said a word all day.

His eyes closed as he tried to take a deep breath, staring out at the city below. It could be his. If only he cast aside everything, if only he made a deal with his worst nightmare and greatest fear, then it could be his. Everything… his, for the taking. And he wanted it, he wanted it desperately.

You lack conviction.

His eyes opened again, and his heart did a strange thing, twisting and wrenching inside of his chest. There had been another mortal, long ago, who had appeared to see right through him. Another mortal that Loki felt had seen through every façade that he had ever built. And that mortal had proven himself even more difficult and inescapable in death than he ever had in life.

And I can only begin to imagine what sort of havoc she may wreak if she follows suit, he thought dryly. After all, Agent Coulson had only been in his life but briefly.

But Natalie has been with me for almost two years. She knows my every thought. All of these things that we have been through… we've been through them all together.

Loki sighed quietly and shook his head, wishing to simply close his eyes and sleep, to allow the decision to slip away into dreams. Two years ago, this would not have even been a choice. Two years ago, this would have been the easiest of trades; but then, Fraye never went for 'easy'. She did what would hurt him the most, because she wanted to cause pain, she wanted to make him into her.

How old was she, he wondered grimly, when she lost her world? Was she an adult? Or was she a child, as she so frequently appeared to be? Did she remember the life she had before all of the pain and death? Did she even want to?

Would he remember this? Would he want to remember?

He fought the urge to bury his face in his hands, fought the urge to yell and shout his frustration, fought the urge to simply stand and stalk out of the room. Rogers was still here, and he did not wish to worry the Captain, for fear of his retaliation. But it all circled back to one fact; if he did this, if he forcibly tore half of himself out of his head, If I end her life in this way… there would be no going back. No more second chances. He had thought he'd crossed that line before, that line between what the world thought was right and wrong, what his family had dubbed 'good and evil'. He had thought that he'd plunged himself into this irreversibly…

And then one mortal had decided to link with him, and all of that had fallen apart. One mortal had been persuading and coaxing him back into the light, slowly and surely, step by step… and to rid himself of that mortal was to rid himself of his last lifeline, his last connection to a world that he had already once thought was lost to him…

But maybe that was what he wanted. Maybe he just wanted this decision made, once and for all, instead of this constant, constant tormenting irresolution, this torturous uncertainty.

Maybe.

I pulled up in the garage, and Loki lifted his head and looked to the door, watching, waiting for my return through the doors. Feeling my movemnts in his head, he stood, Rogers' eyes on his back. He ignored the Captain and walked to the elevator, waiting for me there.

I arrived via said elevator, and he smiled at me as I exited, acting as though he was pleased to see me… but it was soft, weary, and entirely fake. It made a bitter taste creep into the back of my throat, made me feel oddly… rejected.

Ugh. If Fraye didn't kill me first, this whole 'love' thing would.

But I gave him a smile in return, and, as plastic as it was, I made it look natural, made it look real. "Sorry it took so long. I had to visit my parents."

Loki lifted an eyebrow at the hidden note in my tone; something anyone else would not have detected. He scanned through my thoughts, through the events that had occurred with my mother and father, and his eyes softened. He held out a hand, and I took it; slowly, the two of us turned, and Loki gently navigated me towards my room. I was pretty certain that I'd cried myself out while I was at my parent's house, which was good, because I wasn't certain how many more tears I could handle. I hadn't told either of them the reason behind this latest meltdown of mine, and I could only hope that they wouldn't complain to the Avengers about it, wouldn't demand to know what was going on. Knowing my mother, she probably would, but it was possible that they might put it down to Fraye, to what she had been doing.

I pushed the thoughts aside as Loki and I headed back into my room (or was it his?), closing ourselves off from the rest of the world. Outside of the window, the sun was beginning to set, so that the last vestiges of today's light began to turn a burnt orange. Loki sat himself down in a chair that was tucked into the corner, and I sat on the bed, facing him. We were quiet, as usual, a solemnity in the air between us. My mind struggled to focus between competing emotions; rage, anger, and a great deal of hate… but also fear, loss, mourning…

Loki's eyes closed. "What do you want me to say, Frost?"

I looked to him, mildly curious and surprised by the fact that he'd even spoken. My mind synced with his and danced along his thought patterns for a moment, then I looked away.

"I don't know," I whispered in response. "I honestly don't know anymore." I bit my lip and rested my chin on my hand, my elbow on my thigh, trying to think. Trying to articulate a decent reply to that. Trying to sort my head out. Because it was true, there was something I wanted him to say, something that I needed him to say…

Finally, I turned my gaze to him. He was watching me again, trying intently to figure me out, to work through all of the pieces of the puzzle, trying to make everything fall into place. I made myself meet his eyes, the memory of the tears that I'd shed in front of my father still fresh in my mind. "I want you to say that you'll spare their lives. My family. The Avengers. I want you to swear that if you do this… you'll let them live."

My voice was shockingly hard, my tone amazingly cold. I realized that, through all of the tears that had weathered me down today, through all of the crying that I'd done… something had changed. In ridding myself of those tears, I had also banished a weaker, softer side of myself. My heart was stone; and no matter the pain that still stayed with me, I was too empty to express it any longer.

His eyes tightened, his hand slowly clenching and unclenching on the armrest. Finally, sighing deeply, he allowed his hand to open again and looked to me. "So you are truly willing to allow this."

"Stop asking me that," I snapped. "And stop avoiding the question. You either swear or you don't, and I go tell the Avengers everything right now." I stiffened, my spine straightening, my eyes crackling. I didn't want to do this. I didn't want to have to force this promise out of him. But Fraye had torn us apart; and somehow, I was still surprised that she had done so this thoroughly.

Well not anymore. I refused to be surprised again. There was nothing more that she could throw at me that I wouldn't see coming.

(And then I hid a flinch and hoped she hadn't heard that thought, because, more likely than not, she'd see it as a challenge. And that was really the last thing I needed right now.)

Loki met my fiery gaze with a cool, even-tempered one of his own. I tried to infuse anger onto my features, tried to force emotion into my eyes, but I knew that the life had been sucked clean out of them, that I was too defeated, too deflated, to show any modicum of feeling.

"I swear," he said, and meant it. The volume of his voice may have been low but the resolve in his tone was undeniable. Waving a hand, almost irritably, almost dismissively, he said, "I've no quarrels with your family." His eyes turned to the window. "And as for the Avengers…"

He trailed off, not completing the sentence. At least, not out loud. But somewhere, hidden away in the chaos of his thoughts, I felt, rather than heard the words: I would owe you that much, in the very least…

The second that I became consciously aware of these words that were buried inside of Loki's subconscious, he, too, realized them… but somehow, incredibly, he still managed to deny them. Still managed to defy them. To lie to himself. I allowed him his self-delusion. He had sworn, he had not been lying, and that was enough for me. That was enough for now.

The two of us were quiet again. Everything had been settled. My affairs were in order; it hadn't been difficult to arrange them as such. I'd thought that I was on the brink of death for many days now; I'd already had most everything in place. And now that I had gone to Clint, gone to my parents, now that I had said my goodbyes… all that stood between me and the end of the line was Loki.

Loki and his final choice.

We were there for a long time, quiet again, just… waiting. Waiting for a decision, waiting for the seal on my fate or my release from it, waiting for the beginning of the end, waiting for Loki to decide, waiting for him to make his choice, the choice that I had stolen and the choice that had been returned to him. I rubbed the fragmented pieces of the Key on my wrist, my eyes going to the window and staring out of them.

How weak am I? I found myself wondering, to fall in love with my best friend's murderer… when he may also be my murderer? How sick is my life, that this was even an option, that it was even a possible thing? How much of a terrible, pathetic person am I to not even care anymore…?

I sighed deeply and crossed my legs, sitting on the bed with my hands loose in my lap, my spine straight. It was Loki's favorite thinking position- though he was not in it now- and I fell into it so easily it was as though my muscles were the ones conditioned to the pose, not his. Loki watched me, his eyes melancholic and distant, staring across years, as though he were in the future, peering back at his past. Given the darkness in his eyes, it was a past that couldn't be repeated.

The two of us sat there in silence- greeting Steve when he checked up on us, acting the role, but otherwise- just… thinking. Thinking over everything that had happened, everything that could happen, would happen, should happen.

I think that I dozed for a while there; because when I opened my eyes the sun had set entirely and it was pitch black outside. My heart was hammering as I glanced down to my inner forearm, where seconds ago, I could have sworn that there were scars, spelling out Fraye's name…

I shuddered and pushed the thought aside, hunching over and running my hands over my face, up through my hair.

And then my thoughts brushed along Loki's.

My spine prickled, my heart skipped, my lungs freezing and immobile for a moment. Then, slowly, feeling oddly brittle, I sat upright and looked to the Trickster. He was still watching me. His eyes were shadowed.

His decision had been made.

I let out a slow sigh, nodding slowly, carefully. And then I smiled painfully at him, the gesture twisted and wrong, going against all natural laws of the universe. There was another long silence as he looked away from me.

After a few moments, I cleared my throat. "Loki?"

He glanced up at me. I found my resolve wavering just a little at the look in his eyes, but I forced the words out, anyway. "Can you do something for me?"

His head tilted to the side; a silent prod for me to continue as he straightened, as he leaned just the slightest inch closer to me. I swallowed and asked, "For old time's sake… just once more… can you lie to me?"

There were no more tears. I was finished with them. But my voice was quiet and I felt like I was five years old again. Just a little kid, asking for someone to tell me that everything was going to be all right, that there were no such things as the boogeyman, or the monsters under my bed. Asking for someone to tell me that the monsters inside of me didn't exist, to tell me that the voice in my head was just my imaginary friend again.

"Can you tell me that everything's going to be okay?" I asked. Loki's face had gone entirely blank and empty. Flicking a switch, turning off his emotions, so that he could feel nothing anymore, nothing but the numb emptiness inside of him. "Can you tell me that Earth will be safe?" I went on. "That my friends and family will live, that I don't have to die?" My voice trembled just the slightest touch as I added, "Can you promise that it won't… won't hurt?" I looked to him. "Can you tell me one last lie?"

Loki was biting his tongue; he barely even noticed it, barely noticed the pain. After a few seconds of contemplation, he stood, crossing the room in a few brief, snapping strides… as a reflex, I stood as he made his way over to me, on the defense, startled by the intensity of his movements… but nothing in his posture, nothing in his eyes, suggested that he meant to hurt me at this moment.

Carefully, he reached a hand out, cautious and slow and gentle. It rested on my shoulder for a brief second as he met my eyes, communicating a thousand things without words, a thousand separate whispers in my brain that made no sense, that were all convoluted and insane, that were filled with so many conflicting emotions: triumph, pain, rage, agony, fear, victory, exhaustion.

His hand trailed down my arm, fingertips leaving little icy paths in my skin. And then he gripped my wrist tightly and pulled me closer, pulled me into him, wrapping his arms around me. He cradled my head against his chest, and I knew that the lies had started, that this display of affection was no truer than the words about to spill from his lips. But this was what he was good at. Lies were his muse, his talent and his gift. And he could make any truth seem more beautiful, coating it in silver fogs and glittering mists, hiding it away behind the smoking deceits.

His lips were close to my ear as I allowed myself to be held against his chest, as I closed my eyes and listened to the gentle whispers that flowed around me, as I ignored the ringing of falsehood in my head. I knew that every word was a lie, I could feel it, but I ignored that for now. I let myself believe it.

"Everything will be fine, Miss Fro-" he started, then halted, considering. And then he sighed very heavily and corrected himself: "Natalie."

My name in his voice, molten silver inlaid with glittering ice, was a beautiful sound. He knew how much it meant to me. He knew it would paint the lie better. "Everything will be all right, Natalie." He carried on. "The Earth will be safe. The Avengers will be safe. Fraye will be destroyed, defeated; it is only inevitable, after all, with all of us here- the Avengers, you and I- together." He held me a little tighter. "Just as you always wished for us to be," he added, his voice a trace quieter, that little twist of the bejeweled knife that drove the lie even deeper towards my core. "And you… you will live. The issue of your mortality… we can resolve that together. We do everything together, after all, don't we?" His voice danced, twirled around me. It was terrible, how much I loved that voice. How much I desperately wanted to believe in it. How hard I was fighting so that I could believe in it.

"And we will always be together," he whispered. "Because I…"

His voice cracked suddenly, shattering the illusion for only a second. And when he spoke again, his words were not deceits; they were truths. Hard, cold, final truths, truths that could not have come from the lie he was, the lie of the Prince of Asgard, the lie of the Forgotten Son of Jotunheim. "Because I am sorry. I am so… so sorry, Natalie. For everything that I have done to you. I am sorry for bringing the Chitauri to Earth, I am sorry for leading Fraye here, to you and your home, I am sorry for killing April, your friend… your sister, Natalie, I am so sorry…" His voice trembled. He held me tighter. Why was this not a lie? Why was this all so true?

I found my arms freeing themselves, so that I could wrap them around his waist, so that I could steady him as this earth-shattering honesty whispered out of him in the form of smoke. "I would give my life to change it, Natalie, to rewrite this past, to rewrite what has happened between us… I am sorry you ever met me, sorry for what I did to your father… I…I…"

I could feel his tears falling onto my shoulder. I let them fall. There weren't many of them, but he had not allowed them to come into existence, not like I had… He was still shaking for a long time, and this lie, this lie that was not a lie, this lie that was a truth… it meant everything to me. It meant the world. And though I could not say the words out loud, I knew that he heard them in my head, knew that he felt them in my heart, beating in tandem with his.

It's okay, they said-and were they a lie? I don't think either of us knew- It's okay, Loki. I forgive you.

For a moment, truth and lie stopped, honesty and deceit halted, and we just stood there in silence. And then Loki cleared his throat, and coated it with deception once more, so that the words inside of him would be painted with falsehood before they came to fruition. The lies were back once again.

"And I am sorry enough, Natalie. I am sorry enough for all of these things that I will not- cannot- do this to you. I cannot hurt you again, I could never hurt you again." He held me tighter still, maneuvering himself so that he could kiss the top of my head, press his lips into my hair, as he told his greatest deception of all, as he played the greatest of tricks. "How could I ever hurt you?" he murmured against my head. "I love you."

It was such a falsehood that it screamed, but for a second, I allowed myself to believe it, forced myself to believe it. He was an actor in a play, telling a story and weaving a tale that took me far away from my own life, to somewhere beautiful and wonderful and I let myself believe that, let myself believe in it. I let myself believe that the world was a truly beautiful place, that it was right and good, that everything was perfect… that the man I loved could love me in return, that I could be safe to live a life with him… and maybe it was shallow of me to let myself believe it, to let myself be happy for even that second, but I had to accept what happiness I could, because soon enough, it wouldn't matter how much of a lie it was. Soon enough, it could very well be the only memory of happiness that I had left…

"I love you," he repeated. "I love you, I would never hurt you… everything will be fine, Natalie, everything will be all right… we will end this nightmare… we will fight together, as we were always meant to…"

The lies continued in a long list; a mantra of false assurances that he kept telling me, over and over, persuading me to believe them. I stayed in his arms with him in mine as they continued, over and over again. And he went on with this line for a very long time, telling me a tale of a better time, a better place, a better life, allowing the real world to slip away into ash and dust…

We eventually, slowly, shifted back over to the bed, with him sitting and me lying down, my head on his chest… with his voice whispering such melodic lies, and with me doing everything in my power to believe them, and as the hours passed it was only inevitable that I began to doze. In the end, I drifted off to sleep, with Loki still making false promises, still confessing a false love, with the darkness of the world hidden beneath a haze of untrue light.

Long after I had fallen asleep, long after Loki knew that I'd fallen asleep, he kept up with this artificial love, these untrue promises of greater days, kept up with the mask he had worn and the disguise he had put on his words. He continued to mutter and murmur his lies until his throat grew too sore to go on any longer… and then he fell silent, with me asleep on him, and began to stroke his thumb across my cheekbone, running it along my face carefully, slowly, methodically. His eyes were distant once more, his thoughts very far away, but at the same time they were here, and they were consumed with the utter importance and the feelings of this moment, of the here and the now. Because here and now would never happen again.

It was very, very late in the night when she appeared, a shadowed figure in the corner of the room. She simply materialized; Loki didn't even notice her for a long moment, and then suddenly, she was there. A smile played across her lips as the majority of her face remained hidden in darkness. She was wearing clothes suited for war; not armor, per se, but she was very clearly ready and set for a battle, ready for her first strike. Black eyes and a white-toothed smile gleamed in the dark. Loki's eyes remained hollow and blank as his thumb continued to gently stroke my cheek.

"Well, my little Laufeyson?" Fraye Burns cooed. "Have you an answer?"

Of course she knew he did, for she would not be here if he did not. Loki's eyes fell back down to me, to my sleeping form, to my brown hair and semi-tanned features, my eyelashes tangling over closed brown eyes. He studied my face for a long time, just… watching.

Now, I know what you're thinking. At least, if you're anything like me, then I know what you're thinking. You're thinking: Um… hello? Come on, stop dragging this out already, we know that he doesn't make this decision. We know he doesn't do this. Of course he doesn't give Natalie up, of course she doesn't die: she's the one telling the story, isn't she? If she dies, how could she be doing this, how could she be telling her story?

Well, you see… that's where you're wrong.

Because it's not her story.

This is not the tale of Natalie Frost. This is not the story of a mortal who thought herself equal to kings. This is not the tale of a girl who was thrown into the life of an Avenger, a girl who grew up in the shadow of a Giant, who eventually met that Giant and did the impossible by falling in love with him. This is not the story of a mortal who loved an immortal. It never has been. And perhaps it is told as she would tell it, told with her voice and her words, her tones and her cadence…

But in the end, her voice is my voice, is it not? Were we not the same person?

Because, you see, this is my tale.

This is my story.

This is the Legend of Loki Laufeyson. The tale of a Giant who made deals with shadows. Who sacrificed the most precious thing he ever had in favor of a crown, in favor of a throne. This is a story of vengeance and conquest, not of redemption. This is a tale of war and blood, of death, not of love. This is the story of a monster who tried to convince himself that he was a man, only to remember that monsters are the only ones who survive in this life. That monsters will always be greater than men. This is the story of how I finally defeated the Avengers. How I finally arose triumphant.

This is your story, people of Earth.

This is how you all became what you are today.

This is how I made you all kneel before me.

And all it took… were four little words.

For as Natalie stayed, asleep in my arms, I tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, clearing away her features, studying them one last time. Memorizing them once more and forever. And then I turned to Fraye, the Daughter of Darkness, my torturer and would-be executioner. And I smiled at her. And I said those four words, the ones that changed everything:

"Long Live The King."

A/N: "'When the hour is nigh/ and hopelessness is sinking in/ when the wolves all cry/ to fill the night with horror and/ when your eyes are red/ and emptiness is all you know/ with the darkness fed/ I will be your scarecrow.

-Imagine Dragons, Bleeding Out

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(I'm sorry okay?)

(THIS IS NOT THE END OF THE STORY BY THE WAY SO PLEASE DON'T LEAVE ME DX)