Wanda watches memories flicker by as though they were short films she could choose from. But she waits for him to show her something. She knows time feels different in someone else's head and everything is happening over a matter of seconds. But it will feel longer, much longer, to her. She waits.
And then something surfaces and she is suddenly listening to Odin shouting, "I cast you out!"
Then backwards, to a barren wasteland and excruciating pain, one final moment of connection and a deep wish that things could be different. A daring escape. Immense grief. Take the stairs to the left. Final words to Frigga. And hearing Odin bellow that his birthright was death before asking for it himself, believing he will never see anyone who has ever cared about him again as he is escorted off in chains, his proud demeanor a mask covering a heart in turmoil.
He does not show her New York, but she glimpses moments with the creature that gifted him the sceptre. She sees nothing of his time between worlds, though, as he carefully hides those memories from her. She hangs from the Bifrost with him, looking up at Odin's face, already so beaten down from his belief that he was a monster and then letting go.
Finding out.
And before that, the memories are clips and moments. Love from his mother, lessons in the gardens or in her private chambers. Spilling on a tablecloth and fearing wrath. The incident that led him to believe that he would only receive condemnation for spilling his drink.
And then they linger on a memory so sharp that it is clear to Wanda this is something Loki wants her to see from his child-eyes. He sits on Odin's knee showing him a beautifully complex piece of magic. Runes weave between his fingers as tendrils of light erupt from nothing to form complex networks of crystalline shapes built one upon the other as though one were looking at a heap of delicately tinted snowflakes through a high powered microscope. The little hands appear to be that of a young child- possibly the equivalent to a Midgardian six year old. From her vantage point behind his eyes, Wanda watches them manipulate the spell.
Then Thor enters. Bounding, raucous, loud Thor who does not feel the need to not interrupt. He is followed by his friends and they are laughing loudly, telling their story all at once, their words overlapping. Odin turns his attention to these rowdy children, so clearly much, much older than the little boy on his lap. They are not quite teenagers, but nearing it.
"Father! You would never guess what a grand adventure we had today! We fought bandits near the Western Wall so valiantly that they will never think to come this way again!"
Odin's attention is on the older children immediately, "Bandits? Come, sit, and tell us your story."
Loki ends his spells and slips from Odin's lap, but Odin is so absorbed by the details of Thor's rambunctious story that he does not seem to notice that his young son has gone. Loki hurts. He runs past where his mother sits and flees to his room. He slams the door shut. Thousands of his intricate designs hover in the air around his bed, a little glimmering world to wake up to. He smashes them. Every shape clatters to the floor, tinkling as it hits the other broken shards. He throws himself on the bed and sobs.
His mother enters. She does not knock. Pieces of his creation litter the floor, it's crystalline forms shattered, their colours faint as they fade. Some of them still crunch as she walks over them. She sits on the bed and places a hand on his back.
"It was beautiful, Loki. Truly beautiful."
"Go away."
"No. I see you had a larger one in your room."
He sniffles, "All around my bed."
"I am impressed. That is a difficult spell, and an even harder one to sustain."
"Not if you link them- they feed off one another."
"Really?"
"Yes. But Father will never notice, not so long as stupid Thor always interrupts."
"Now, Loki, your father tries his best to-"
"No he does not! He always makes me wait when Thor comes in."
"I will talk to him later about that."
"It will not change anything. Father loves Thor best."
She is quiet, "No, he does not. He loves you just as dearly."
"That's a lie. If he did, he would let me finish."
"Loki..."
"It's mean but true."
She gathers him up in her arms and holds him on her lap, "Your father has done so much for you, my little one. And we love you with all our hearts. Thor is at that age when his stories of adventure need to be carefully listened to before he alters the story. Your father must make sure he does nothing that could harm this realm or any others and he is a rash boy. You are my little thinker. He will take time for you, even if it is later. And some day it will be your stories he must carefully screen for any inklings of mischief."
"Why cannot Thor just wait his turn? It would not take long for me to finish up."
"I will talk to him this evening."
"It's too late. Father never comes back so I can finish. And Thor will never stop barging in when I want to show him things."
The memory fades. He shows her nothing else. She draws back from his mind and drops down to sit beside him instead of towering over him. She is tired.
"Wanda, I...I can explain."
She rests her hand on his knee, "Explain what?"
"The Stone. The helmet. Everything."
"I know."
"I'm so sorry. I could have killed you." He takes her hands, "Please, give me a chance to talk this through?"
"Of course."
"I just thought-" but there is a crack from the sky and Loki, in sheer terror, grabs her wrists as the Bifrost yanks them to the sky.
Tony's eyes follow the bridge as it vanishes, "Um...did that thing just suck Wanda into space?"
Thor steps away from them, "Heimdal? Bring me home." Thor shoots off on the rainbow bridge. Steve, Tony, and Natasha stare at the marks in the grass.
"I guess our job here is done. Come on. Let's pack it in. We'll go back to the tower and wait. Order pizza. Tell SHIELD this is an Asgard thing."
Natasha stares up for a moment longer, "Aren't you in the least bit concerned that Wanda just got sucked into Asgard?"
"Nah, Thor's there. She'll be fine."