Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Disclaimer: The Greenville Trestle now don’t seem so high.

“Let the water flow with shades of red now;

Arrows black out all the light.

Death is riding into town with armor;

They've come to grant you your rights!

Hail to the King!”

- Avenged Sevenfold, “Hail to the King”

WHAT IF...COULSON MADE THE CALL TO KILL THOR?

Part One:

Death is Riding into Town with Armor

He was seriously beginning to regret not taking the rifle.

Keeping a bowstring taut was hard on the fingers under the best of circumstances; under the worst storm New Mexico had seen in centuries? It was almost impossible.

Well, impossible for anyone who wasn’t Clint Barton.

“Better call it, Coulson. Cause I’m startin’ to root for this guy.”

The man (if he was even a man at all) stumbled forward. The plastic walls offered him just as much resistance as the guards had: namely, none. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Coulson take a step forward. Presumably to get a better view of the situation.

Hopefully he’d seen enough. “Last chance sir.”

A pause.

“…Take the shot.”

The arrow flew from his bow, straight and true.

And then twisted in the path of an air current that most definitely should not have been there.  

Onwards it went, spiraling in a grim parody of its intended path…right up until it impacted the man from behind.

Three inches up from where he’d been aiming.

It could’ve been worse, he mused. He could’ve missed the man entirely by three inches to the left. Knee shots were tricky to begin with; it was just bad luck he managed to hit the femoral artery instead. Or at least, he assumed it was the femoral artery. That much blood didn’t typically spurt from a flesh wound.

The man crumpled to the ground with a roar of pain audible even through the downpour. Barton could only watch as the sap then did the absolute stupidest thing possible…and pulled the arrow out.

Yep, no doubt about it. Definitely the femoral artery.

Still the man pushed on. Inch by inch, his blood draining from his body, he crawled ever closer to his goal. His fingers reached up, gently brushed the leather-wrapped handle…

And then slid off into the mud.

Barton very slowly relaxed his stance. “…Hostile down.”

Now all they could do was pray there weren’t more where he came from.

Cause if there were, they were gonna be pissed.

Come to think of, so was Fury.

Never mind; more muscle men seemed like an excellent idea. He would take a hundred dudes like that over Fury mad any day of the week. Unfortunately, it seemed his prayers had been answered. Because not one more muscle man made their presence known; from the time he gave his report to Coulson, right up until he boarded the plane for New York.

He was dead. So very, very dead.

Loki didn’t hate the Warriors Three; not really. He could hardly blame them for the environment in which they were raised; for the way of life that was all they knew. And when it came down to it, there were none others he’d rather have behind him in a fight to the death.

Sif, however…Sif, he could afford to hate.

She had been his playmate, once. Back when they were both young and in love with the world; with the way seidhr tingled and danced beneath their skin. They had learned together at Frigga’s lap, fascinated by the intricate designs his mother made dance in the air. To copy those designs, and make them even more spectacular had been their only goal.

And then Sif had noticed Thor.

Day by day, she grew less and less interested in matters of seidhr, and all too interested in the more accepted methods of battle. Their shared love of magic withered and died with every hack Sif made at the training poles.

He should have seen it coming; there was none closer to Thor than him. Who else would Sif attempt to replace?

He and Thor had always been evenly matched in battle; Thor could not break through his seidhr, and he could not match Thor’s resilience, stamina, or strength. Their sparring matches always seemed to end in a draw; Mjolnir pinning him to the ground, and his dagger a hair’s breadth away from something vital of Thor’s. Right up until the day Sif challenged him instead.

She had beaten him; cleanly, viciously. She knew his seidhr inside and out, and while she may have been nowhere near Thor’s level, she had an advantage the Crown Prince did not: she could match Loki in speed.

And that was that. Sif joined the Warriors Three, and Loki was relegated ever further to the background. On the day he lost his first fight to Thor in centuries, thanks to Sif’s coaching, he faded into it entirely.

But that was then. This was now. And Loki, the God of Chaos and Mischief, was standing on center stage once more.

The Warriors Three would obey; of course they would. He was ruler now, and his word was law. And for anyone to go against the word of the All-Mother was an infinitely worse offense than to do the same to the All-Father. In his eyes, at least.

Maybe Sif would disobey…it was entirely within the realm of possibility. Their shared love of magic had become…not a shared hatred, exactly. He was quite sure that was entirely on his part and his alone. It was more of a rivalry, than anything else. And Sif had always delighted in bending his own rules and examples back against him.

And she was still beloved by Frigga. If anyone could get away with it, she could.

No matter; he would deal with any potential nuisances when he returned. His seidhr flared outward, cloaking him an illusion designed to blend into Midgard. After examining the resulting ensemble, he was forced to admit that perhaps the humans were far more advanced in the matter of clothing than most Asgardians. At least in the area of practicality. Inconspicuous or comfortable, Asgardian robes were not.

The location spell slid into alignment with the one for transport, and he flashed away.

Hmm…he smelled medicinal supplies. Apparently, Thor was in the Halls of Healing. Again. What a surprise. Now, time to find out just what the oaf had managed to destroy in his brief time on Midgard, and then mitigate the damage already done.

He strode down the corridor, passing…no one on his way. Odd; every place of healing Loki had ever visited was invariably filled with the cries and moans of the sick and the clipped tones and whispers of the staff. Then again, most of those occasions had been on the eve after a battle, and there had definitely been more people in need of treatment than normal. Perhaps this was what Halls of Healing looked like on a more…regular basis. He shrugged off his concern, and continued on.

Three doors he walked past; then four, five, six…a twinge from his seidhr.

He double-checked the location spell. No doubt about it; he’d passed Thor’s residence. But that made no sense; the only doors behind him were all marked…

Oh.

Oh Odin, please, no. Not that.

The offending engravings stayed exactly where they were.

CORONER.

MORGUE.

And lastly…

CREMATORIUM.

Norns help me.

He allowed himself a slight relaxation as the…the crematorium yielded negative results. Everything was fine; he was sure of it. Thor was probably just claiming the possessions of his latest vic…opponents. There had to be a perfectly good reason the spell was quite clearly leading him to the morgue.

Didn’t there?

Swallowing, he swung the forbidding door open to reveal…an empty room. No occupants whatsoever.

And yet Thor was here.

He had to be.

There…a table. Atop it, a sheet. And beneath the sheet…

A shape.

The white material yielded smoothly to his grasp, pulling back slowly, oh so slowly…

But not slowly enough.

He started with the coroner’s office.

He wasn’t bothering to hide now; he wanted them to see. See, and know there was absolutely nothing they could do to avert their coming fate. His rage was practically visible in the air, his seidhr sparking and spitting every step of the way.

The coroner had been weak; his heart had given out before Loki had gotten everything he wanted from his mind. Luckily, there were plenty more where he came from.

And they were all with a group known as SHIELD.

They had beaten the hammer from above.

They would not fare so well against the dagger from below.

They found her hours later.

“Jane?” Darcy’s voice. “JANE! Oh my god, oh my god. Where the hell have you been!”

She wanted to get up; to get up and run. Run from Darcy, from Eric, from Puente Antiguo…

But she found she couldn’t. And so she stayed just where she was: hugging her knees to her chest, covered in mud and…and…and…

Damn. The tears were back.

Erik knelt down. “Jane? Jane, are you okay?”

A single word escaped her lips. “No.”

Erik slowly nodded. “Right. If…if we ask what happened, will…will it make things worse?”

A half-laugh, half-sob hiccupped it’s way out. “No. No; there’s…I’m sorry, it’s just…I don’t think there’s anyway it can get worse.”

Darcy raised her hand to her face to block the glare. “I don’t see blondie; did you ditch him? Or vice versa?”

“Darcy!” Erik snapped.

“What? I’m just asking; and my Taser’s still hungry for man-flesh.”

She snorted. And then hiccupped again.

And then sobbed.

An eternity later, Erik miraculously produced an all-white handkerchief and handed it over. “That bad, then.”

She nodded numbly.

The older man sank to the ground next to her with a groan. “Now…tell me.”

It all came pouring out. Magic, science, Thor, the complex…the fight.

“It was an arrow. An arrow, of all things. And he just…” Her arm collapsed in demonstration of the event. “…yeah.”

“And?”

She looked at him. “And? What’s ‘and?’”

“Don’t, Janey. I know what a femoral bleed looks like…and I know that even if you hugged the man, the blood wouldn’t have ended up in your hair. What happened after.”

She took a deep breath. “I was…waiting. Here; for you and Darcy. They took his body away; a coroner’s van. Some more cars went with it. And then…the screaming. Even when Thor was doing what he was doing, they weren’t screaming. All those white walls…red. Just…red.”

“…Who?”

“I don’t know. A him; at least I think it was a him. He saw me; watching. And then he…he smiled. Why did he smile?”

Darcy collapsed on her only remaining available side. “Dead men tell no tales, Janey. He knew there’d be someone left to scream bloody mur…oh my god, I’m so sorry.”

“No, it’s…it’s fine.”

Erik gave her a look. “Is it?”

Her “No” sounded very small.

A sigh. “You went down there, didn’t you. After he left.”

He gestured. “Hence the blood.”

Another nod.

“Janey, Janey, Janey…” Darcy leaned her head on Jane’s shoulder. “One of these days…”

“I know, Darcy. I know.”

For a very long time, there was silence.

“So.” Erik moved first. “What’s this then?”

He gently tapped the hammer with his foot.

“It’s what he was…Thor, what he…”

Erik finished the sentence. “What he went in there for. Why? What’s so special about it?”

Jane reached over and picked it up. “I don’t know; all Thor said was…”

She trailed off when she realized both of her friends were no longer sitting next to her. “Guys? What’s wrong?”

They were staring. Why were they staring?

“Jane…” Erik was spluttering. “The…you…”

Darcy managed to be somewhat more eloquent. Well, for Darcy. “Dude. Do you have any idea what you look like?”

She frowned. “I’m perfectly aware I’m a mess, Darcy, I don’t see why…”

“Not that, you moron…look!”

A hand-mirror was shoved violently in her face.

“Darcy, I don’t know what…”

The mud. The mud was gone. The blood too.

Her hair…her hair was partially-braided around to the back. When had that happened?

The mirror panned downwards to reveal the rest of her disaster, and then moved backwards to put everything into view at…once.

Armor.

She was wearing armor.

And a cape!

Red, flowing, thick…

Thor’s.

It had to be.

Which meant that the hammer…

Tears rolled down her face. “He said that I’d see. I guess I did…”

Her friends caught her just before the hammer hit the ground.

Apparently, judging by the conversation he’d just overheard, he’d been wrong.

The Warriors Three would indeed go against the All-Mother.

If Sif was the one instigating the action.

Well, it was a bit late now. Time to show them.

Time to show them all.

Seidhr slammed into the doors, ripping them completely off their hinges. Fandral at least had the grace to look ashamed; Volstagg, penitent. Hogun was as unreadable as ever. But Sif…

Sif was defiant.

But not for long. Not once she saw what he carried; once she realized why he himself had been unable to open the door with his hands.

The catch of breath; the widening eyes.

They knew.

“It occurs to me…” he began. “that the height of irony is, in fact, happening upon my comrades in attempted treason, when I myself have just committed it. For the same reason, in fact. And apparently…”

Thor’s body slid from his hands; the table just barely large enough to catch him.

“…All of us too late.”

He stabbed the arrow that had done the deed into the wood. So what if he hadn’t found it with the body; ‘evidence lockers’ were such useful things.

They gathered round; like locusts on wheat. Sif looked up at him, fire in her eyes, and spat. “How?”

“Need you ask? Odin cast him out; made him mortal. And he, in his arrogance, forgot that Midgardians can be just as deadly as we.”

“I shall avenge him.” She hissed.

“Yes you shall. I began the task, as you can see,” he gestured to his blood-soaked clothes, “but I shall leave to you to finish them. Those that did it have many enemies of their own. They are an empire in their own right; but empires can be toppled. And ones that crumble from within?”

He grinned. “Those are dead for good.”

Sif and the Warriors Three shared a look, and then faced him as one. “Where do we start?”

It had been a stroke of luck that the first SHIELD Agent he’d taken had been one Jasper Sitwell; one of HYDRA’s best. His mind had been weak, but full of information. Enough for a plan of attack that would decimate not only the Midgardians that had dared touch a god, but those who had in fact started this whole debacle: the Jotunns.

Heimdall regarded him with implacability. “Jotuunheim? You truly wish to return there?”

“It must be done, I’m afraid. I have no doubt that what I am about to do would be considered treason by many; yourself included. But I will not see war come to Asgard. Not when…”

Heimdall nodded. “A wise decision. But why inform me?”

“It is the duty of the Keeper of the Bifrost to inform the All-Father of any treasonous actions; or, in his absence, the All-Mother. And the Keeper sees all. However, should the gaze of the Keeper become clouded for any reason, then the Keeper can hardly be blamed for anything that might occur under said cloud.”

“Plausible deniability.” Heimdall’s brow furrowed. “That is what I believe the Midgardians call it. You would offer this?”

“It is the duty of a ruler to put his people before himself.” It was a duty that became far easier once one learned they were, in fact, a Frost Giant. And as such worthy of being put before not even the lowest street-crawler.

Heimdall harrumphed. “I see your silver tongue has returned. I thank you for your offer, my liege; but I will not allow my ruler to carry any burden alone.”

Loki nodded in acknowledgement. “As you wish. The Bifrost, if you please.”

A twist of a sword, and the swirling rainbow twisted and lengthened, until at last the bridge stood before him in all of its glory.

As he was about to step through, a single question came from the man behind. “Where is Mjolnir?”

“…I left her.”

“On Midgard.”

“Yes; as a reminder. A reminder…and a warning.”

“For whom?”

“…For everyone.”

He stepped through.

“It was I who let your people through; it was I who concealed them!”

Lies. All lies. As much as he hated Thor, he would never have dared shame Frigga in such a way.

Laufey, fortunately, seemed to believe them anyway. “I will hear what you have to say.”

“I’m sure you have heard of Thor’s banishment; and I am equally certain that even that will not be enough to quench your desire for vengeance upon him and, indeed, Asgard.”

Laufey gave a half-smile. “You would be correct on both counts.”

“Then it will please you to know that Thor is not, in fact, merely banished, but dead.”

That certainly got his attention. “How did it happen?”

“An unfortunate accident, shortly after his…arrival on Midgard.”

Laufey hummed in approval. “Indeed.”

Good; the fool had obviously inferred that Thor’s death hadn’t been so accidental after all. “A tragedy, I’m afraid. In recognition of the fact that your justice has thus been denied you, might I offer you this…”

The Casket of Ancient Winters glistened with blue light. “…As recompense.”

Laufey leveled a stare in his direction. “Under what conditions, Prince of Asgard? I am no fool; I know there must be some.”

“There is but one, oh king: that you confine your…conquests, to Midgard. Oh, and should you come across those responsible for the death of the Crown Prince, I do hope that you treat them with all the due…respect owed them.”

“Hmm…destroy them, you mean. No loose ends. Tell me, oh prince,” Laufey leaned forward, “just who are those responsible?”

“I believe, my friend, that they call themselves…SHIELD.”

Nick Fury didn’t get to be the Director of an organization like SHIELD by shooting first and asking questions later. Which was why he didn’t immediately fill the shadow sitting in his chair full of holes. “And just who, may I ask, do I have the honor of addressing?”

The shadow chuckled and leaned forward. “Honor? I must confess, that’s the first I’ve heard that word attached to myself in some time.”

A pair of golden horns emerged from the darkness, accompanied swiftly by an arrogant and cruel face beneath. “Loki Odinson, I am called.”

“Loki.” His eyepatch was itching. “You mean, like the Norse deity.”

“Not like, Director. I am. The one, the only, the original. Prince of Asgard, and God of Chaos and Mischief. And I am here, because someone in your employ thought it wise to meddle in not just my affairs, but those of Asgard as a whole.”

It  didn’t take long for the pieces to click into place. “New Mexico. That wasn’t a satellite.”

“No; no I’m afraid it wasn’t. It was the property of my late brother, Prince Thor. God of Lightning and Thunder…and heir to the Asgardian Throne. And your men killed him while attempting to retrieve what was rightfully his.”

Shit. “…Well that certainly explains the lack of survivors. And the missing research. Would it be too much to hope that Asgardian justice stops there?”

“Oh, you misunderstand me Director: those men weren’t killed because they just so happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. They were killed because, by their own definition, they were in the right place at the right time.”

“Hmm. Gonna explain that?”

Loki shifted in his seat. “Tell me Director…what do you know of HYDRA?”

A sliver of ice settled in his chest. “The group this organization was founded to fight. They believed that all humanity should be ruled by one system, one man. And that any means were acceptable in their pursuit of such a goal.”

“Succinctly put. However, you and the rest of the world have overlooked two specific words in the last part of that definition: any means. Including infiltration. You have a weed growing in your garden, Director. And it has seven heads.”

“You sure of that?”

“Quite sure. If I did not have good reason to suspect HYDRA were indeed the ones to order my brother’s death…then you and I would not be having this conversation. Agents Barton and Coulson are the only blood Asgard is officially allowed to call for; unofficially, however…”

Something long and sharp appeared in front of his throat. “Good evening, Director…”

Loki frowned. “Sif; play nice with the good Director. He’s going to be your main contact here on Midgard, after all.”

Oh, this day just kept getting better and better. “An Asgardian operative?”

Loki nodded. “One with a …personal stake in HYDRA’s destruction. She will work as closely with you as you let her; but do not, under any circumstances, delude yourself into thinking you can control her. She is here for one purpose, and one purpose only. And it is she who will decide what form Coulson’s and Barton’s punishment shall take. Are we clear, Director?”

“…Inescapably.”

“Excellent. Sif, should you require assistance, I shall have the Warriors Three stand ready. And, if need be, the Destroyer.”

A threat, then. If anything were to happen to another Asgardian…well, he didn’t much like the sound of ‘the Destroyer’, whatever it was.

“I thank you, my liege. But I believe I can handle it.”

“As you wish.”

Loki faded back into the shadows…and then disappeared entirely.

The knife to his jugular abruptly vanished. “One of these days, I’m going to find out how he does that. Lady Sif, at your service, Director.”

He swallowed. “Considering we’re going to be equals for the duration of your stay on Earth…perhaps it would be best if you called me Fury.”

“As you wish.”

Alexander Pearce had been much easier to deal with than Director Fury. All he had to do was feed HYDRA’s party line back to him, and then make the point that a Midgard under the rule of one organization would make Odin very nervous indeed. And that Loki very much enjoyed making Odin nervous.

He name-dropped the Frost Giants as well, and added that if any were to show up, they would have their own reasons for fighting SHIELD.

And with that, the stage was set. Sif and SHIELD versus HYDRA and the Frost Giants, with all of Midgard caught in the middle. And in the end, they would all burn.

He could only hope they all killed each other off before Odin awoke. If he ever woke at all. Odin had made his last mistake, and Loki would be damned before he let the old fool meddle again. One way…or another.

As he watched the ship carrying his brother’s remains dissolve into starlight, a single stray remembrance slipped through his mind. That of a delicate but fiery face, expression twisted in both horror…and curiosity. Director Fury had been wrong on two counts: there had, indeed, been a survivor. And it was on her account that the research stolen from her residence had been…taken.

He knew not why, but the Norns’ influence had been obvious. For one woman, no matter how lucky, to not only witness Thor’s arrival, but to be intelligent enough to recognize it for the advanced science that it was…spoke quite eloquently to higher influence. That SHIELD had stolen from her as much as they had stolen from him was another point in that regard. The universe was rarely so lazy as to stoop to mere coincidence.

Dr. Jane Foster’s fate was somehow tied to Asgard’s, and to their interactions with Midgard in particular. He would be extremely busy for the foreseeable future, but should Sif’s efforts require a more personal touch…perhaps he would spare a moment to drop in on the good doctor.

He found the idea to be a remarkably pleasant one.

The ride back to the…well, what used to be the lab was tense in the extreme.

Mostly because they’d realized quite quickly that Jane was the only one who could actually pick up the hammer. Getting it into the van was easy; getting it out without anyone remarking on her sudden wardrobe change was a different matter entirely.

In the end, they managed it by using Darcy as the lookout, and Erik to yank the door open and cover for Jane when Darcy said the coast was clear. Which was why the hammer landed solidly on Erik’s foot once Jane realized exactly what was sitting in her lab that hadn’t been before:

Namely, her research.

Stacks upon stacks of material: charts, computers, readouts, screens…none of it correctly organized, but all arranged in such a way that suggested whoever had done it had tried their best.

And on the blackboard in the center of the room, a single message, written in clear, flowing script:

I found the meaning of the name Puente Antiguo to be quite humorous. And fitting. Perhaps you shall as well. I would suggest a change of scenery, before the snakes return. - Possibly An Ally…Possibly More.

P. S. Norway is particularly fine this time of year.

Chapter Text

Disclaimer: I know what I’m doing is a horrible thing, but my brain has no control over my fingers. 

“Welcome, won't you come inside?

Oh I fear the passing year did not deserve you;

By some devious design

Suddenly you're very near, as I prefer you.

Soaked and shivered from the rain

(You have always been a delicate disaster),

Fine in fire and of frame;

Me and you are overdue for fiendish laughter!”

- Villainous Thing by Shayfer James

WHAT IF...LOKI TAUGHT THE SCARLET WITCH?

Part One:

Building Palaces in Purgatory

So. 

Earth had witches, now. 

Wonderful. 

Except no, it wasn’t wonderful at all, and half of Loki’s plans had just gone up in smoke. 

Odin was on Earth. Worse, he was in New York. New York; as in, the headquarters of the Avengers. The very same Avengers who now possessed a brand-new, full-fledged sorcerer on their roster. A sorcerer born from no less than the concentrated power of an Infinity Stone. A power that could easily dispel any and all illusions Loki had placed on the All-Father should the paths of the two ever cross. No he was not panicking, thank you very much. 

…

Okay, so maybe he was panicking a little. But it wasn’t like he didn’t have reason to. 

Thor showing up unannounced in Asgard had almost given him a heart-attack. The account that followed had done absolutely nothing to relieve the stress. The discovery of Loki’s scepter, the twins, Ultron, vibranium, Helen Cho, the Vision…

If the real Odin were here to receive Thor’s report instead, Loki seriously doubted the old goat would’ve survived without an aneurysm. 

To think that the Midgardians had not only discovered the secret to constructing souls, but the art of transferring said souls from one container to another…Loki shuddered beneath his illusions. If Thor had learned of Helen Cho’s advancements even slightly earlier, he had no doubt that Jane Foster would currently be walking around in skin of vibranium while the Aether withered away in a mortal husk. Not that Loki held any ill-feelings for the good doctor, but an immortal Midgardian could very easily have one day become an immortal Asgardian Queen. 

Thankfully, such had never come to pass. Helena Cho had passed into the Gates of Valhalla, and her work had been destroyed. 

Or had it?

Midgard had hundreds of shadowy organizations growing along its spine. Perhaps one of them still possessed what remained of Doctor Cho's research. And perhaps Thor might choose to seek it out for the benefit of his lady fair. 

Unacceptable.

He turned his attention back to Thor, who yet remained, kneeling, at the bottom of the stairs. Truly an uncomfortable position. But Loki's desire for safety won out over his satisfaction at seeing his brother thus prostrated. "Rise, my son. You have acquitted yourself well in your battles. Tonight, we shall hold a feast for your safe return."

Thor's jaw clenched. "Thank you, Father. But I feel I must be on my way."

"At least bide til the morrow. You are weary, that much I can see. Surely what troubles you would seem far simpler a matter after a night's good rest."

"...I have not had a night's good rest since the day of my visions, Father," confessed the Prince, "and with every day that passes they grow only clearer. Time is something I fear I cannot spare."

"Ah, but you are forgetting my son," Loki leaned forward on his throne, "your time is not the only one I command. I also command a veritable legion of librarians and archivists. Should you consent to relay your visions to them, perhaps they may find a trail for you to follow. Rather than rushing around the Nine Realms without the benefit of either sleep of certainty. Come;" Loki dramatically heaved himself upward with the 'help' of his spear Gugnir, "if you are truly in such a hurry, we shall depart immediately. I believe the delegation from Xandar is capable of a small delay to their meeting with the All-Father."

Thor frowned as he rose. "Xandar? What business has Asgard with the Nova Corps?"

"At the moment? None. Which is what they wish to see altered with this meeting. Politics, my son. The more they change, the more they stay the same."

Thor grimaced. "I shall take you word for it."

Under his illusion, Loki silently laughed all the way to the library.

As far as feasts went, it was a relatively small one. Less than a day's notice to arrange it, for starters. And there was also the fact Thor was the only one who actually had tales of his new battles to tell. It was really more of a "let's be thankful for everyone we currently have safe at home" fesst. The Midgardians had an entire holiday dedicated to the sentiment, if Loki remembered correctly. Not a bad idea if he was being honest. At least the atmosphere of closeness and warmth seemed to be putting the Xandarians at ease. Which Loki most certainly wanted. 

Oh yes, he knew about Xandar. He knew about Ronin, about the Ravagers; about the Guardians of the Galaxy. And, most importantly, he knew all about the Power Stone.

The Nova Corps was strong. But Loki needed to know just exactly how strong. Especially in light of their recent losses. If Asgard could ensure the Nova Corps was rebuilt once more into a force which would give even Thanos pause, then things would be much safer all round. And Loki was prepared to do quite a lot to make sure that happened.

If Xandar needed architects, they would have them. If Xandar needed soldiers, it would have them. If Xandar needed sorcerers, it may cost them a pretty penny, but by Bohr they would have them. All that and more to keep the Power Stone safe.

Three down, three to go. 

The Space Stone lay secure in Asgard's Royal Vault. The Aether had been safely delivered into the hands of the Collector. And with any luck, the Power Stone would remain forever under the protection of the Nova Corps. And so, until such time as the Soul Stone and the Time Soul came to light, Loki would concentrate his efforts on ensuring the only remaining gem was in good hands. Thor may believe the Mind Stone safe with the Vision, but Loki was inclined to doubt. Stark's ULTRON program had been born of the Mind Stone, and already the consequences of its actions were being felt in the very halls of Asgard. 

Speaking of Thor, Loki watched with amusement as his brother politely declined the advances of yet another starry-eyed waif hoping for the glory of his attention. Strange, how such a brief experience should change Thor so thoroughly. Midgard had reached his brother in a way that Loki never could. And for that alone, he resented them more than a little.

"Does something trouble you, my liege?"

It was Hogun who had spoken. Easily the wisest of the Warriors Three, if not perhaps the most outspoken. Perhaps his advice would be useful.

"I confess I am indeed troubled, my friend." Loki said with a sigh. "Thor's latest entanglements have brought to mind many spectres of the past."

Hogun frowned. "You speak of the reappearance of Loki's scepter."

"Amongst other things. Tell me Hogun, did your mothers ever speak to you of the seidrkomar of Midgard?"

"The sorcerers?" Hogun cocked his head to the side. "I had thought them a myth."

"Not myth, my good Hogun. Merely legend. And there is always a little bit of truth in legend." Loki shifted slightly in his seat, eyeing Thor as he pretended to laugh at some joke of Volstagg's. "The sorcerers of Midgard were wiped out an age ago, when the Fire Giants of Muspelheim first reached beyond the boundaries of their realm. My grandfather fought beside the first and most powerful of their number: a man named Agamotto, who was said to possess the mastery of Time itself. And now, with the emergence of this Scarlet Witch, I fear the rest of the cosmos may decide as Loki did that Earth is finally ready."

"Ready for what, my liege?"

Across the room, the eyes of Sif met Loki for an instant, flinched, then quickly drew away again. 

"For a higher form of war."

After a moment's consideration, Hogun swilled his mead and spoke. "If that is indeed the opinion of the Nine Realms, surely they must also know Asgard would stand alongside its Prince in Midgard's defense."

"Must they, Hogun? Must they, indeed. Did we interfere beyond the dispatch of Thor when Loki threatened their way of life? Or when Malekith stood and declared an end to brightness? Or when Loki's scepter was discovered, when sorcerers reemerged, when cities fell from the sky? I think not." Loki sighed. "At the time, I felt my decisions to be the soundest possible. Made for the benefit of Asgard and all. Yet now, I doubt."

"Asgard stood against the Frost Giants when they came for Earth."

"That was an aeon ago my friend, and the memories of men are not so long as ours. To say nothing of the memories of the other Realms. And yet, even then, the invasion of Midgard is not what I fear most. What I fear most is this: if Asgard should ever officially offer aid to Midgard, and Midgard spit it back in our faces."

Or worse: if Asgard should ever require help from Midgard, and find the doors barred.

"Surely such will never come to pass, All-Father. The legends of Asgard are known quite well to those on Earth. And did you not say there is always a bit of truth to legends? If nothing else, Midgard sleeps knowing the mighty Thor will ride to defend them."

"And should the day come when more than Thor is needed? What then shall Midgard know, Hogun of Vanaheim?"

"Then, All-Father," Hogun drained the rest of his flask in one swallow, "then, they shall know fear. And their fear of Asgard shall ever be less than that of their enemies."

It was a long time before the words of Hogun faded from Loki's mind.

Thor left in the morning. Not for Earth, but for Vanaheim. 

The libraries of Asgard had not satisfied the worry of the Prince, and so he sought the wisdom of the greatest witch in the Nine Realms: the Great Queen Freyja herself, beside whom even the real Odin was nothing more than a child. If anyone should discern the truth of Thor's visions, it would be her. 

For the first time in a great long while, Loki felt hope as he watched his brother depart through the Bifrost. A trip to Vanaheim was just the thing to keep Thor occupied; far away from the memory of Jane Foster and the secrets of Helen Cho.

Of course Heimdall was the first to notice his good mood. "It is not often I see a father pleased to see both the return of their son and their departure."

"I am pleased, old friend, because Thor has at last grown the sense of responsibility his mother wished us all to have. One even I sometimes found myself lacking. It is the fondest wish of a father to be surpassed by their children."

Heimdall smirked to himself. "On that we can agree, All-Father."

Right. He'd forgotten Heimdall was a father. "And how is young Axel, him? Still anxious to follow in his parent's footsteps?"

"Yes; one day, at least. For now, he enjoys stealing apples from the royal orchards."

"Ah, youth. Let us hope the day is far off when he chooses to pursue cherries instead, eh?" Loki laughed at his own joke, as Odin and Thor would have done. And Heimdall just smiled, as he liked to do. So they were both very contented together. 

But as all things do, the contentedness had to come to an end. "As much as I have enjoyed this Heimdall, I must confess: I did not come here today for the sole purpose of bidding my son farewell."

"I did think it strange that the All-Father should be awake and alert at this hour," came the Gatekeeper's dry response. 

Loki chuckled. "Yes, I am sure you did. But nevertheless, I have come to you today, Heimdall, to ask for your advice on another matter.”

Heimdall’s eyes went up. “It is not the place of the Gatekeeper to advise the King of Asgard.”

“No.” drawled Loki. “But such advice has proven helpful to Asgard’s prince. And I would have it now.”

“...As my king commands. What would you have me speak of, All-father?”

“The Avengers. You witnessed the fall of SHIELD. I presume you observed the rise of Ultron and the fall of Sokovia. On this subject, I desire you to speak: what is the current strength of my son’s companions compared to the strength of their enemies?”

Heimdall nodded, then turned his head to the stars. What he saw there, Loki could only presume to guess. 

“...The Avengers no longer possess a dichotomy of leadership. Stark is gone, leaving behind the Vision and his friend James Rhodes. There does appear, however, to be a new underlying tension within the group. Steve Rogers, the leader of the Avengers, is a mere Captain. Rhodes, a Colonel; albeit in a different branch of the military  And another new addition to the team, the one they call Falcon, is a Major, yet sympathetic to Rogers. With no international reach such as SHIELD provided, it is the American viewpoint that the Avengers default to. A viewpoint that is extremely divided between respect for Steve Rogers, and acknowledgement that he has been outranked. Already American voices seek to use the discrepancy as leverage to bring the group to heel.”

“And the loudest of these voices?”

“A man named Ross. A General. He also happens to be the man responsible for Doctor Banner’s current affliction.”

An enemy the Avengers would likely unite against, then. They considered the Hulk their ally, and as such would seek to stand by him even in absentia. “And should this Ross fail to divide the Avengers based upon their rank?”

“Then he will move upon their next weakest link: the Winter Soldier. A man I once witnessed murdering Tony Stark's parents under the order of his masters in HYDRA."

"...I presume that the Man of Iron is unaware of this fact."

"You are correct."

"And should he learn of it…?"

Heimdall shrugged. "I am no soothsayer, my liege. I could not begin to judge the resulting turmoil."

"...I see. Thank you, old friend. You have given me a lot to think about. As an aside: do you perhaps know the current location of the good Sergeant Barnes?"

Heimdall closed his eyes, head tilting back. "...Europe. Austria. There is a tavern, near a place called De Schloss Adler. You will find him there."

"Excellent. You have been most helpful, old friend." Under the disguise of Odin, Loki chuckled to himself. "Most helpful indeed."

Loki remembered King Eitri of the Dwarves of Nidavellir. 

He remembered the lies. The deceit. The treachery. The punishment. Lines and lines of stitching, holding his mouth closed as he struggled to scream, to cry, to make the truth known…

But Sif’s hair had remained black. The promised golden strands? Never made or delivered. Loki could have lived with the punishment; could have lived with the agony, the humiliation. If only Sif…but it was not to be.

Oh yes, Loki remembered King Eitri. 

Which was why it was Odin who came before the liar today. There were few that the Dwarven King would not dare to double-cross. And chief amongst those was the All-father.

“Can it be done?”

Eitri’s eyes sparkled with the challenge. “Aye; aye, it can be done. But it will cost Asgard mightily.”

And oh how it burned within Loki to force out the words, “Gold is of no consequence. One way or another, a new Destroyer must be made. A better one..”

Loki jabbed his finger at the plans. “This one.”

“This one?”

“This one.”

There were Infinity Stones in play now. Loki needed something able to handle not only Thor, but Thanos himself should it become necessary. 

Eitri subbed his chin and studied the plans. “It will take time. A good year, I should think. Bring the first payment within the quarter, and we shall see if our efforts are to your…liking.”

“Agreed.” Loki nodded. “And with our business concluded, I shall take my leave.”

“Care you not for our hospitality, All-father?” guffawed the Dwarf. “Mayhaps you have a new maiden awaiting at home in your bed! That would put a rush in anyone’s stride, methinks!”

Odin would have killed Eitri for the slight against Frigga. Thor? Sentenced him to an eternity in the heart of Nidavellir itself. But Loki?

Loki just shook his head and smiled. “Alas, I fear this old face is far less appealing to the world than what this face represents. And I have never been one to rely upon gold to gain people’s affections.”

Eitri just guffawed again and slapped his knee. “Well-spoken, All-father! A fool and his gold are soon parted, eh?”

“I quite agree, King Eitri; a fool and his gold are, indeed, soon parted.”

In just a bit less than a year, in fact. 

Perhaps Loki would freeze Eitri’s corpse and display it in Asgard’s Vault…

The next part of Loki's plan called for a certain...redeployment of assets, shall we say. 

A redeployment for which both the Lady Sif and the Lord Hogun seemed perfect. And so here they were, kneeling before him. Only this time with absolutely no inkling as to his true identity. 

Sif, ever the boldest, spoke first. "What is thy bidding, All-Father?"

"Bidding?" Loki arched one imperious eyebrow. "Am I truly such an aloof ruler that I should summon the friends of my son for nothing other than to issue my edicts?"

"Of course not All-Father," Sif hastily back-tracked, "but it did seem strange to us that you should summon we alone out of Thor's friends, and so soon after the Prince's departure."

"Hmm. I see Hogun has relayed some of my worries. Oh there is no harm done," he reassured the pair as they moved to apologize, "they were not spoken in confidence. Although I do hope our dear Lord Volstagg has not been completely enlightened to the situation. He may be one of the truest warriors of Asgard, but his tongue is not always the...shall we say, driest."

Hugun blushed, but dipped his head in acknowledgment. "You speak truth, All-Father. No; Lord Volstagg remains unaware of the Realm's potential troubles."

"Very well then." Loki's hand clenched around his Spear. Then, making a snap decision, he stood to descend the throne. "Much as I wish I could say otherwise, I did indeed summon you here for an explicit purpose. Though I would hear your words on the matter before you make any... final decisions."

Sif and Hogun shared a look. "...As the All-Father wishes," Sif finally said. 

Loki nodded. "To business then. It has come to my attention there are certain... factions arising on Midgard who could pose a threat to the friends of my son. And, by proxy, a threat to the security of Asgard. Ever since the days of the Frost Giants, I have done my best to restrain our influence in Midgard. To allow their people to grow, and flourish, at their own pace. Yet things are now in motion which I fear will disrupt such a pace, influence or no influence. Even…" Loki's train of thought stuttered, jerking over the memories of three years past, "even the events in New York could never compare to the level of disaster I fear Midgard stands upon the brink of. A strong Avengers, a united Avengers, will be necessary for them to survive. But would it be better for them to strengthen themselves…" Loki reached the final stair, and let his spear come to a rest with a resounding clang, "or for Asgard to do it for them?"

Once again, Sif and Hogun shared a look. Only this time, it was Hogun who took the lead. "Why ask us, All-Father? Our knowledge of affairs of state is passable at best."

"Passable, yes. A fortunate thing then that my own experience in that arena is most accumulative. I do not wish for your opinion as courtesans: I wish for your opinion as the friends of my son. Would Thor wish for me to help his Midgardian allies? Or would he wish for me to entrust their welfare to him and him alone." 

Loki let out a sigh. "I do not know my son as well as I once did. And though he has grown, I cannot say whether this is a battlefield we should allow him to face on his own merits. So." He faces them head on, chin held high. "What say you, Warrior and Lady of Asgard?"

Sif and Hogun go to Midgard. 

Doctor Jane Foster takes them in and introduces them to the associates of Thor.

(Their knowledge of the Winter Soldier's last whereabouts buys them a lot of good faith.)

Two Asgardians on the roster of the Avengers complicates things severely for the budding plans of General Ross. Ah; the wonders of diplomatic immunity. And with a standing offer of Asgardian citizenship to the rest of the Avengers, well. There is only so much one Secretary of State can do. 

(And if Helen Cho’s regeneration cradle and research disappear one night from the Avengers’ compound, then that is between Sif, Hogun, and the All-Father.)

Volstagg and Fandral do not go to Midgard. Volstagg instead is sent to Xandar, along with a number of Asgard's best architects. And Fandral...Fandral remains, to train up the new regiments rising to replace those lost to the Dark Elves.

Asgard will endure. Even if Loki does not.

Thor does not return to Asgard for the anniversary of his mother’s death. 

In honor of that fact, Loki allowed himself to get good and drunk along with the rest of the somewhat aged nobility. 

It was during one of their few lucid moments that Lord Vithar, of Vanaheim, managed to string together not only a sentence, but a useful one at that. “All-f’th’r…y’know…pe’ple hic… pe’ple ‘r start’n to talk…”

Loki frowned and leaned forward. “Oh? Hic. R’lly? Wha…wha’bout?”

“Oh, y’know hic… ’bout heirs.”

No, Loki did not know. So he asked. 

“Well i’s jus…y’ain’t got none. Hic. One. None, one, none, one…”

“Nonsensh. I’fe…I’fe got Thor.”

“Yeah, but,” Vithar gestured vaguely “he’sh not a prinsh ny’more. Jush Thor.”

One of the other lords whose name Loki had momentarily forgotten nodded along. “Jush Thor. No Prinsh. No Queen. No queen means no prinshes. We need new prinshes. Wish…whish means…”

“Whish means we need a new queen!” finished Vithar triumphantly. “New queen, new queen, falalalalalah!”

“New queen…” somehow, the idea didn’t seem as wrong as it should. Probably the rum. “Where’d’ya get a new queen?”

“Oh lossa places…Apple-heim’s gosh shum beauties…and dere’s shum lookersh on hic, on Xandar.”

Xandar. That was the…the place of the Nova Corps. Big friend of Asgard. Could be even bigger friend? 

Loki turned to ask Vithar’s opinion on the women of Xandar…only to find the man well and truly passed out. Well bugger that for a bag of apples. He’d just have to ask someone else what they thought. 

Fandral…Fandral was nice. Only one of Thor’s friends not to threaten to kill him. Good-looking too…he’d know all about women on Xandar. Yes, he’d ask Fandral.

Loki stood up to do exactly that…

And promptly collapsed.

Oops. It looked like he was drunker than he’d thought. 

Oh well. He’d just ask Fandral in the morning.

Actually, it takes him an entire week to ask Fandral. 

It seemed he had not been the only one to not only remember that horrible, horrible conversation, but also remember that the All-Father had not been altogether put off by the idea of marrying yet again. As a result, he had been inundated with mountains upon mountains of correspondence from the Nine Realms, politely requesting his presence at various affairs and banquets where no doubt hundreds upon hundreds of young single women would do their best to woo him. 

He’d taken great delight in burning each and every one of them. 

But with every piece of parchment that disintegrated into ash, that treacherous voice in the back of his mind grew just a little bit louder. 

He wasn’t going to rule Asgard forever. He couldn’t; the All-Father was old and everyone knew it. If he lasted for much longer people would start to get suspicious. And while Thor had improved remarkably as a potential ruler, Loki would still rather die than let him on the throne. Even if that meant he himself had to squat on it for an eternity. 

What Asgard needed was someone they could accept as a Regent between such times as the All-Father passed and Thor finally got done playing ‘House’ with Jane Foster. Someone magically powerful, to remind the people of Frigga; but also unable to pick up on Loki’s own illusions and deceits.

Of course, said person would also have to be implicitly trusting of Odin's instruction. Or rather, of Loki's. Just in case Loki had to keep them from doing something stupid after the All-Father had supposedly passed. (Because even as good of a liar as he was, Loki was quite certain the truth was bound to come out to someone as close to him as his wife.) But also, they couldn't be easily swayed by the opinions of others; a strong will, and a keen mind.

The beginnings of a plan began to stir within his mind…and so he went to Fandral. 

“With all due respect, my king; why me? Surely there are better voices than mine to hear upon this subject.”

Loki chuckled. “Undoubtedly. But all those better voices possess something you yourself lack, my boy. That is bias. I doubt there is a voice upon my council who would not immediately turn their thoughts to how best to sway my affections to someone under their thumb.”

Fandral laughed. “Whereas I have only a married sister.”

“Something like that. My sons spoke well of you, young Fandral; both of them. It was a rare peacemaker able to befriend both. I would hear the voice of a man able to live with both of their views.”

“...Ah, fine. Just don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Fandral leaned forward and clasped his hands atop the table. “I’m going to be honest, All-Father; Asgard can ill afford another enemy. And a show of favoritism towards any of the Realms, particularly in matters of marriage, would perhaps be enough to upset the scales. However,” Here Fandral waggled his eyebrows, “I am also willing to admit that in light of Thor’s renouncement of the throne, the Realms would be thrown into chaos upon your passing. Unless, that is, you had another heir; or at the very least, a Regent. Now, where you get said Regent and heir, I have absolutely no idea. That’s up to you. But speaking as a friend of your sons, I will say this: you cannot replace Frigga. You know it, I know it, and all the nine realms know it. So my advice to you would be to not even try. Find someone as vastly different from Frigga as you can. Let the Court of Asgard judge them on their own merits; rather than the shadow of another’s.”

It was the best damn advice Loki had heard in ages. “Well-spoken, Fandral, son of Arrnor. Well-spoken indeed." Already, his mind was whirling with plans. "I believe I find myself in need of Lord Hogun and Lady Sif. Send word to them by raven; and have Heimdall stand by to open the Bi-Frost."

Fandral looked at him slyly. "And Thor? Shall I send word to him as well?" 

And Thor, indeed. "Should my son choose to return to his home, then and only then can he be expected to receive news of it. Thor will remain as he is: content in his detachment from political affairs."

"As you wish, All-Father. But don't say I didn't warn you."

Sif and Hogun had thankfully not yet returned to Midgard after the banquet in Frigga's honor. It made things simpler.

"How fare you both in the halls of Midgard, my friends?"

"Very well, my Liege." Sif smiles. "It is...refreshing, to have such varied allies to train with."

"Good. Very good. And you, Hogun?"

"I have no reason to complain, All-Father."

"But you have no reason to sing praises, either. I see how the matter stands. You miss your kin on Vanaheim, and I cannot fault you for that. If you wish, you may take Fandral with you when you return to Midgard. Once you feel he is ready to take your place, you may return to your family. You have earned your rest, my friend."

Hogun bowed his head. "Thank you, All-Father."

Loki hummed. "Not at all, my boy. Though a few trips here and there to train Fandral's new regiments here may be in order, if the Avengers fight in as different a manner as the Lady Sif indicates."

"They do indeed, my King. It will be an honor to further the skill of Asgard's warriors."

"I'm sure it will. Now! To the main reason I have summoned you here today. You have spent no small amount of time alongside the being known as the Scarlet Witch. Tell me; in comparison to the Witches of Vanaheim, how stands she in terms of control and power?”

“In terms of control? She is…” Hogun paused, “untested. She is hesitant to push her limits, content to master what she already knows. And not without good reason. She once ripped an entire legion of constructs to pieces with her grief.” 

Hidden, Loki swallowed. “...I see. And that also answers my inquiry as to her power.”

Hogun's eyes bore no small amount of fear as they stared into his. “I believe should she wish, the Scarlet Witch could rip the entirety of Asgard apart.”

Not good. 

“And this amount of potential has remained without a tutor?”

“It is Midgard, my lord.” reminded Sif. “There are no other sorcerers to be found.”

Loki let out a deliberate sigh. “As I feared. Has not even the Vision assisted her in her studies?”

“Sorcery is new to him as well, All-Father.” Hogun bowed his head. “And the Vision is hesitant to push the boundaries of the one person who truly understands what he is made of.”

Unfortunate. For the Avengers, that was. For Loki, it was perfect. “Then I am afraid I shall be forced to interfere yet again. Such power will eventually draw challengers like moths to a flame. It would not be prudent to leave it friendless.”

Whirling, Loki began to ascend the throne. “Issue an invitation upon your return to Midgard. Bid the Scarlet Witch come to Asgard, with one other select member of her allies. Save for the Vision; it would tempt Fate to have two Infinity Stones in such close proximity.” As he very well knew from his own experiences. “If she wishes instruction in the art of magic, then the All-Father himself shall provide it.” And favoritism be hanged.

“My lord…” Sif pursed her lips. “Is that…legal?”

“I will make it legal.” Anything to ensure the enemies of Thanos were raised to meet their true potential. Even if it meant (he shuddered) helping the Avengers. 

And if he should also gain the loyalty of the most powerful witch in the cosmos? Well. Just rewards and all that. “Now go. Hemidall and the Bi-Frost await.”

As the footsteps of the two warriors faded away, Loki sank into both the throne and his thoughts. It had been such a long time since Loki had taken a student. Not since his childhood with Sif. He would have to…brush up on certain areas.