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When Darcy died she came back for him. It had been almost fifty years but she only looked maybe ten or fifteen older, and he still recognised the faint sound of her footsteps on the window sill.
“Lady Natasha.” He sat up, turning on the bedside light.
“Hi Lokes.” She was in a simple black shirt and pants, a casual replica of her catsuit. The Widow’s Bites were noticeably absent.
“You have been away a long time.”
“I’m sorry. I had some things to deal with.”
“And they are finished now?”
She didn’t answer, instead looking at the photo frames on the top shelf of his bookcase. Each was a different family portrait with Loki in the centre, taken for each new set of parents he’d had. The one of Tony and Pepper had become especially hard to look at lately.
“I heard about Darcy.”
“Ah,” Loki looked down, tracing his finger over the covers, “Yes.”
“With her gone there isn’t much to keep you in New York.”
“What do you mean? I am in the care of Rebecca’s daughter and her husband for now. They are unknown enough that I should be able to stay here for a few years before it becomes suspicious.”
“I thought maybe you would be tired of being passed around and given new names.” She waved a hand at the portraits.
“Frigga and I have been working on mastering an illusion to make myself look older but the spell is very complex-”
“You could come with me.”
He slid to the edge of the mattress. “You’re not staying?”
“I’m too old to make friends with the new generation again. They wouldn’t know me from a random person off the street.”
“They’re good people. They care about their ancestors.”
“Because their parents told them the stories; because some of them remember their grandparents. The next lot will care even less, and the ones after those will only want to wear their famous names.”
“You think ill of them considering you don’t know them.”
“I’ve seen it before.”
“Perhaps humanity has evolved.”
She laughed. “I don’t think so.”
“What would we do?” Loki frowned, “You are not the type to settle down in the suburbs and I will only get in the way of your work.”
“I’m done with all that, Lokes. I want to enjoy myself for once instead of looking at every door as a potential exit and every person as a possible threat.”
“Why take me?”
“You’re one of only two people I’ve ever really cared about.”
He looked down to hide the pity in his expression. “And if you died? What would become of me, alone in a strange and possibly remote place?”
“You’ve got Heimdall keeping an eye on you. You’ve got magic and money and tech to call for help.”
He climbed out of bed and walked over, taking her hand. She almost flinched before remembering herself.
“Where have you been, Natasha? What has it done to you?”
“Too much. A century of too much.”
He read the despair in her tight lips, the fatigue in her shadowy eyes. Loki saw his chance to make amends to at least one Avenger for any pain he’d caused.
“I’ll come with you.”
“Really?”
“I enjoy your company and I like to travel. You are right – there will always be Midgardian heroes to take me in. I do not have to stay here for my lessons nor my protection. I shall go with you.”
She smiled and it was as beautiful as he remembered, dangerous and lovely.
*****
Between Nat’s skills and his magic there was nowhere on Earth closed to them. They lazed away a month sunbathing on the beaches of Cyprus; they rode elephants through festival parades in Mumbai. She took him to the places where she’d grown up, the Red Room facility nothing but a burnt-out husk now, and he didn’t ask what had happened to it – he had a fair idea what the answer would be.
They spent a year on a Chinese junk sailing the South East Asian seas and island hopping. There they met people with almost nothing, people born under a tropical sun with smiles on their leathery faces, and Loki wondered what it was like to come from a place so small. They trekked across the mountains of Peru and he sent a llama to Thor as a present, with strict instructions not to eat it.
It took them two years of living in Florence to see all the art, and six months to trace Marco Polo’s route to China. Nat started picking up tattoos like souvenirs, as if she was making up for a lifetime of having to stay anonymous and unremarkable, as if she hoped to make herself unsuitable enough that no one would ever think to re-recruit her. He admired them all and smiled when her eyes glazed over dreamily at the reclaiming of her own skin.
Natasha was happier, that much was obvious. The further they got from her old work the more she relaxed. She never opened up all the way but she told him things and taught him songs and jokes and was more like the Natasha he’d glimpsed long ago than she’d been in the time since.
Loki thought a hundred times about offering her an apple and a chance to leave Midgard forever. She would have been revered in Asgard, a friend of the king and his family, a great warrior. She could have found peace without trophy hunters or old foes seeking her head. But he never asked. Natasha was tired; the years weighed on her. She had been used since her childhood and now she wanted to be free, and then to die and be truly untouchable. She’d have a place in Valhalla beside the rest of the team and never have to mourn another friend or take another life. So even though he wished she of all people would stay, Loki focused on the present and hoped his heart wouldn’t break too badly when her time was up.
*****
Natasha’s cells aged about three times slower than a normal person’s and she was two hundred before she even looked sixty. She was still fit, toned but not to her former demanding standards, still stunning with shockingly white hair and full lips. Loki himself had aged, about ten in appearance and already stronger and faster than average humans. They could pass for grandmother and grandson when they gave any cover story at all, and he loved her as dearly as if it were true.
They were in Belize, walking through a tiny twisting maze of market stalls. Natasha had a crimson shawl draped over her head, keeping half an eye on Loki as he examined the carved stone wares of a nearby vendor. They came to the end of the alley and he looked up.
“What now?”
Tasha sighed. “I don’t know.”
“We could go back to the hotel-”
“It’s the same everywhere we go.”
The god frowned and took her hands. “Lady Natasha?”
“I’m sorry. These last few weeks...I’m just tired, that’s all.”
He felt panic rising in his throat, hot and bitter and awful. She wanted to leave him, just like the others. “Come to Asgard with me.”
“What?”
“The other realms are different, new. We will ask Frigga to take us everywhere. You will have much to learn from our books and our history.”
“Loki, I don’t-”
“Please,” he squeezed her fingers, “Please. I went with you when you asked me once. You are all that is left of my first Midgardian family. I do not want you to go.”
He’d said it for each of them, in their time: Bruce and Tony and Pepper and Darcy and Steve, and all their children, and all their grandchildren. It was too hard to do it again. He could see the indecision on Natasha’s face and he just knew she was going to say no; it was her right to stay, to die and be done with the tedium of near-immortality and the ghosts of old pain. He started to tear up, blinking it away as her face blurred in his vision, determined that if they were going to be parted he wouldn’t waste a moment.
“Okay.”
Loki frowned, sniffing. “Really?”
“Sure. Will you do me a favour though?”
“Anything.”
“Ask your brother for one of those apples. I’ve got eight more realms to explore and I think I’ll need some extra time.”
**200 years later**
Loki woke up, magicked himself into his clothes and teleported to the stables only to find Natasha had still beat him there. She was dressed for riding in a dark black tunic and trousers with boots, her knives buckled over her hips. Her scarlet hair was braided and pinned at the base of her skull.
“You’ve got to be quicker than that, Highness.” She smirked, saddling her mare.
“I shall make it one day.” He grinned good-naturedly, taking his tack down off the wall. Elkheart lipped at his tunic as the lanky god ran a hand down her neck.
“Good morrow to you, my dear. Are you going to taunt me too?”
“Don’t feel so sorry for yourself. That was much faster than yesterday.” Natasha led Apricot out of her stall.
“I appreciate the attempt to humour me but it is unnecessary. I will have to work on the spell.”
He finished saddling his mount and led her out beside Nat, who was already in the saddle. Loki swung into place, checking his grip on the reins.
“Where are we going today?”
“I don’t know yet but I’ll tell you when we get there.”
“Race you to the city gates?”
“Eager to get beaten again?”
He smiled as she tore off, kicking his heels lightly to urge Elkheart on. The guards paid no attention to the redhead or the teenage prince as they sprinted along the palace paths towards the gates. Loki ducked sideways in a tight shortcut and came out just in front, drawing up at the threshold as Nat reached it.
“Ha!”
She shook her head with a grin. “Sneak.”
“You of all people should expect my tricks.”
“Come on, rematch. Last one to the bridge has to go a round with Sif.”
Loki bit his lip. “She is still rather angry about our last game...”
“Then you’d better not lose.”
He whipped up the reins and turned, bolting down the hill. He certainly didn’t want to face the shield-maiden after that jest with the pudding. He could hear Natasha right behind him, hooves clattering over the cobblestones. Loki leaned forward, head low over the horse’s neck, and rode as if Sif herself was chasing him.