A/N: As much as I enjoy writing this story and updating as much as possible, I must sadly inform the diligent reader that I will be taking a brief break between the times of Feb. 1 and 9 to ensure that reality does not slap me with a rude awakening. I will not promise a lengthy chapter for the 10th, but I will try for something that is satisfactory for my absence. What I can promise is that I will not let this story go until I am done. This is a rare chance for me to refine my skills as a writer and to test the waters in areas where characters and expectations of them are already well established.
In a realm that was torn between ice and fire, shadows and light, Loki found himself watching the mirror he had crafted to track Sigyn's movements. It was a small thing, a circular object that he could easily slid into a pocket once he deactivated the spell. As it was, he was content in the moment to pause in the crafting of his newest residence to watch her slip into sleep with the dark blanket pulled up to her chin and her hair splayed across the pillow. He could not even bring himself to resent the fact that it had been Thor to carry her to bed when she fell asleep over her food.
Tapping the smooth surface with his thumb, he murmured the deactivation phrase and slid the mirror into the inner lining of his breastplate. While it was not as good as being in her presence, it did create a balm for the anxiety he felt when he could not track her with his own eyes. Too long she had been trapped in the Void with no contact with anyone. It was a wonder that she had not gone insane, but, then, she was his wife and that meant she had to be resilient in nature to match the chaos he could create on a whim.
With his mind eased on her condition, he set back to work crafting the spells that would make a habitable atmosphere on an unforgiving planet that would scorch all others. It would take time and planning as well as effort on his part, but the security that the inhospitable planet offered would well protect the plans he was spinning.
Heimdall felt the frown tug at his lips as he watched the second prince of Asgard craft spells around himself. That he was able to see a spellcaster of Loki's ability at all told him that the Trickster wanted him to know where he was, to see the plots and schemes that he were being hatched under Asgard's very nose. If he was less charitable, he would have said that Loki was boasting, but Loki had not been the type to boast of his victories as a child.
His gaze switched momentarily to the sleeping form of Sigyn, settled safely on the realm of Midgard. With the revelation that she was still alive, if held immaterial within the Void, was not something he had ever expected. That she was alive at all had puzzled him in more ways than her reported death. Cast into the Void by Odin? Yes, that was something that he could accept as having happened. Odin, despite all his claims of love for his second heir, had never shown him the favor he had Thor. What he could not understand was the why of the actions. Perhaps watching the two of them would reveal the answer to that, or else unravel everything around them.
Sif sat in the training yards with Hogun leaning against the wall next to her. With Thor's sudden departure and Loki's subsequent exile, everything had seemed to become that much more boring. Fandaral and Volstagg seemed equally uninterested in the change of events with their hobbies being of an equal distraction. At least between the two of them, the silences were not of an unbearable quality like they were with the other members of Odin's court, smug in their knowledge that they had been right.
Even watching the newest warriors try and regain the skills lost in their reincarnation had lost its amusement that morning. If she had felt so inclined, she might have felt the need to instruct them in the ways of wielding shield and sword, but she had stopped doing that years ago. Glancing at Hogun, they shared a knowing look as another warrior cut himself on his own weapon. Together, they left the training grounds to look into the duty roster that assigned patrols to the more experienced warriors. If there was nothing else to be found in the palace to amuse themselves, then at least they could be useful and hone their skills to a new degree.
There was a shift in the small, dank room that made the Hulk shift inside Bruce. He shivered with the anticipation that usually preluded the change, but when he turned to see who had invaded his newest sanctuary he was unsurprised to see the SHIELD agents. It wasn't that they wore a uniform or even that there was a look to them. These three men wore casual clothes that might have blended into any crowd in the small town, backwoods community he had sought refuge in. It was more the fact that they were here without offering violence or threats that he knew they were SHIELD agents sent to collect him.
He tried to smile, tried to make light of the situation. "Is there another invasion the Hulk is needed to smash?" he asked, but it fell flat and that made cold fear curl through his blood.
"Not quite," the lead agent answered. "But it could become one if we aren't careful." Seeming to gather his courage, the lead agent straightened and stepped forward from his companions. "Dr. Banner, we're here to collect you to ensure that the situation does not get out of control. The Avengers are assembling again."
She was bored and that was frustrating. With Loki's banishment, she had lost her most key opponent. He had been clever in ways that no other Asgardian could have matched and her equal in every arena of magic except, perhaps, in that of seduction. The thought made her smile, but only fleetingly before she was returned to the reality of her situation. Everything had come naturally, so easily to her since the departure of the second prince. None of the males that she seduced, swayed, cast aside could match the fire that had seemed to dance around him. No one had dared to cause the mischief he had in Odin's court and thought everything was peaceful, it was boring.
Amora danced a fine line between intelligent and insane and she prided herself on knowing when she was sliding too quickly towards insanity. It was never a good feeling when she lost herself, became a slave to the whims on the other side of the line, but, oh, it was always a glorious time of activity and joy. Standing upon the line again, she decided to step over on her own simply to what enticement it held this time. If she could top the incident with the Álfar, then she would be content for a long time.
Thor ran a thumb over his hammer, absently tracing the intricate carvings. He had long since retired to the room that Tony had provided him. In his reflections of the conversation, he reviewed time and again Sigyn's words. He timed it. Knowing that his brother had intentionally provoked him into banishment had hurt. Fighting him to protect Midgard had been worse and each blow he had landed to Loki's body had made his own ache in sympathy. A single point of attack to give you a fighting chance. He wanted to grasp at the hope that Sigyn had tried to give, wanted to believe that she understood Loki better than him, but she hadn't been there.
Still, though, Sigyn existed where she should not have. Her voice, her words, her actions, her body language were so familiar he would have sworn to the end of the universe that it was Sigyn, yet his own father had told him that Sigyn was dead. He remembered the grief that had ripped through his brother and the shuddering gasps that wracked the younger prince as he held him. There had been no explanation as to how she had died, no consolation offered to Loki for the death of one he had so cared for.
Heimdall certainly believed that she was who she looked like and that was enough to settle any unease he might have had about her identity. It did not, however, answer the why. He wasn't even he wanted to know, but his father lying about something so vitally important, no, being the reason behind the tragedy was not something he was sure he wanted to forgive and forget. Odin had been heavy handed with some of the things his brother had done, but most of the time it had been to prevent others from trying to exact their revenge in less well lit circumstances, but…no.
His thoughts spun back towards Narvi and Vali. The mission in its vital importance had been too well placed, too well timed. He had had to quell the dwarves, try and placate them enough to hand his brother back to them, reason with them that the death of the second prince would not be worth the consequences. And the entire time, he could not help think that he had been shunted from Asgard in a moment when he would have fought his hardest against the decision his father had made. Others had been more skilled than he and would have succeeded more quickly than he. It was sad knowledge that he had succeeded at the expense of the lives of his nephews, claimed in the bargain of peace the dwarves had broken anyways. In the war that had followed, he had been glad for the first time to step back and let his brother lead their charge, to vent his grief and rage.
His thoughts spun away again and again, taking him down ever darkening paths of memory, to moments when he had thought nothing of his father's actions. He could not even regret the loss of the last of arrogant pride and naivety he had held so fast to as a child. His father was not perfect, was not even close, and if things were what they were suddenly so painfully painting themselves as, then his father was a lot worse than he had ever thought possible. As the sun rose over the buildings of the city, he still idly traced the carvings on his hammer and felt the last of his decision click into place.