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Lucille Sharpe remembered a time when she'd been a regular little girl. She remembered falling asleep to the creaks and groans of the old mansion, or to the fairytales her nanny used to tell her and Thomas when they'd been confined in the nursery. She remembered the winters when she would walk outside and marvel at how the red of the Sharpe mines clay looked like spilled blood on the freshly fallen snow—and how she had thought it beautiful.

She didn't know when it all changed. Maybe it was when the figure of her little brother started to come to her in her dreams. In the dreams, he was the same, a quiet child hiding a hefty dose of mischievousness. She was different, though, and whenever she woke up from those dreams, she felt too big for her skin, like there was something inside her struggling to get out.

Thomas would come to her then and would look at her with those big ageless eyes. He would whisper her name, and it would strike her as both familiar and strangely not right, because that wasn't the name he was supposed to say.

She was the one who reached for him first. It was after a dream, and she woke up tortured by pent up desires she could not hold back. When Thomas came to her, as he always did, she kissed him, and although he went tense, he didn't push her away.

Their mother knew something was not right. She reminded Lucille of someone else, a figure she couldn't quite see, but that always seem to understand more than it—he?—should have.

Maybe that was why it took so long for the unavoidable to happen. But when it did, Lucille could only wonder why it had taken her so long to see the truth.

Their mother called them monsters, and her brother, her Thomas reeled away from her like he had been struck. There was something painful in his eyes then, something stronger than what appeared when their mother actually did hit them. It reminded Lucille of different times, of that mischievous boy turned into a man with a silver tongue, struggling as cruel hands held him down and sewed his lips shut.

She had failed him. She knew that, because she could still remember his eyes looking at her accusingly—even if she hadn't been Lucille Sharpe at the time. But she was no longer helpless, and she would not fail him again.

The cleaver was easy to find. Lucille searched for a hammer at first—there was nothing quite like a hammer to smite one's foes—but those kind of tools were likely only available for the workers, in the mines or the sheds. It didn't matter. The cleaver reminded her of Jarnbjorn, and the sharp edge made it a better weapon for this weak mortal form.

When she struck her mother down, she thought she had finally made her brother happy. She didn't.

Thomas looked at her with fear and sorrow, speechless and frozen as the men came to take her away. And Lucille knew then that Thomas was not like her. He didn't remember.

She was angry at first, angry for being denied what was hers. But as the years passed, as she waited out their separation, she realized something else. There was freedom in him not knowing. If he had known, he would have never accepted her kiss. But like this, she could have him. They might be siblings, but they were a woman and a man, and there was no shame in pursuing that kind of desire.

When they reunited again, he looked so much like the man in Lucille's dreams it hurt. But he was also lost and confused, and while Lucille was not a creature of mischief, she had grown up with the master of deception and she knew how to wrap him around her little finger.

It was not hard to fall into the pattern they'd started when they'd been children. And it could have gone on forever that way, if not for Thomas's invention.

Lucille's brother had always been clever, and his mortal form had not changed that. Unfortunately, the Sharpes no longer had the money to sustain those kinds of creative dreams. And Lucille thought that maybe, just maybe, she wanted her brother's dreams to come true.

The first woman was an accident. They had fully intended to look for a real investor in the mines, and then, the foolish girl had just fallen into her lap.

She was a pathetic thing, but of course, she could not be allowed to have Thomas. Thomas didn't like the plan, wanted to dissuade her—he already had Lucille, after all. But there was still a spark of the God of Lies and Mischief in him, the same spark that had carried them both through countless centuries in battle. It wasn't a warrior's bloodlust, not like Lucille's. No, it was his ambition, his cleverness that were the key to his heart. And she told him, she promised—we just have to do this, and your invention will work. The Sharpe name will be great again. When it worked, Lucille idly thought she should be the one called Silvertongue.

It was a lie, and after the first came a second and a third. The child broke something between them, and in her heart, Lucille knew it, knew she should not take the chance again.

But then, there was America and Edith Cushing, and it was no longer Lucille's choice anymore.

The American was everything Lucille was not, her hair the same gold Lucille's own had been in another life. She was also a fae-like creature, delicate and frail, but oh so clever. And Lucille saw that under Edith Cushing's touch, her Thomas began to dim, and Loki Liesmith started to reemerge.

The bersekr rage guided her hand, and when she killed the stupid man in the bathroom, he imagined Edith's blond head in his place. She told herself she would have the last laugh.

But the Norns had ever made fun of the son of Odin, and she only realized this long after Edith had become the Lady Sharpe, the night after she and Thomas returned from the post office.

For Edith was not a mere mortal. The same spark that lived inside Lucille and Thomas existed inside Edith too, only Edith was no Odinson. She was Angrboda, the front giantess, and Sigyn the loyal. She was Loki's soul mate, the one person Lucille—and Thor—could never compete with. And she needed to die.

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 Thomas couldn't pinpoint the exact moment he remembered who he was—or rather, who he had been. Perhaps he saw it in Edith's eyes, or read it in her manuscript, in the ghost story she had crafted more eloquently than any skald. Maybe it was at the morgue, when he tasted his lies in Edith's tears.

He definitely knew it the night they'd made love. It was Loki Silvertongue who kissed her, who slid inside her, claimed her body just like he had so many times before—in a different life, a different cycle.

He knew he couldn't have her. At some level, he realized it. Twice now he had tried, and it had ended in tragedy, because Loki was not meant to be happy. And Loki might be living as Thomas Sharpe now, but the shadow of Asgard had followed him in the shape of his sister.

And still, even knowing all that, he still used what little magic he could muster to siphon out the poison Lucille had already fed her. It didn't fix all of the damage, but it helped, and it would keep Edith alive—as long as Lucille was kept from administering further doses, that is.

Lucille's anger at their return was more familiar than the red clay of Crimson Peak. In her blazing eyes, Thomas saw Thor the thunderer, the bersekr who laughed as he destroyed thousands of enemies for the glory of Asgard.

So Loki acted the same way he always had. He lied. He stayed Thomas and pretended, even if his stomach turned upon touching his sister-brother that way. It wasn't even the blood bond between them. He was the God of Mischief and he was not so easily shamed. But he simply did not love Thor that way, and the person he did love was just across the hall, unknowingly sleeping in the same creaky house Lucille-Thor would make into a coffin.

He supposed he should have known it could only end the way it did. Lucille was blind to the ghosts, but he had felt them. He was grateful that he managed to keep the fall from hurting Edith too badly—she could have easily broken her spine if he hadn't intervened with his magic—and he was even more relieved when Edith's doctor friend Alan showed up. But by this point, Lucille-Thor was beyond reason, and things just turned from bad to worse.

The dagger was a familiar weight in his hand, and he wondered if Lucille had deliberately handed it to him as a test. He handled it awkwardly, like a man who hadn't used the weapon before. He played the game with Alan, pretending he did not know the exact spots in a human's body that could maim without killing.

But in the end, it was all for naught, because he and Thor were always destined to be at odds. In every cycle, in every life, it was the same. He didn't know what gave him away—perhaps nothing did, perhaps it was just his sister-brother's fury that caused it—but in the end, Thomas Sharpe died, a foolish, ridiculous death for one who had been the God of Mischief.

The moment his soul was free of the trappings of the mortal body, he felt Asgard's pull, the spell binding them to this land summoning him back. But Loki still had his seidr, and he resisted. He pursued Edith and his sister, and he watched with grim amusement as his beloved did what he'd never been able to—struck the thunderer down.

When Edith looked at him, at his ghost, when her fingers passed through his smoky form, there was one moment when their eyes met.

He wanted to tell her to be happy, but his hold on Midgard was growing more and more tenuous. Among the fallen snow and the crimson of the blood and clay, she was so much like Angrboda, although at the same time, so very different. Fierce, loyal, clever—as ever, his beautiful soul mate.

He had been a different Loki when he'd loved her before, but it hadn't mattered, because it had still ended the same—with blood and death. Maybe it was better this way. They had not gotten the chance to conceive a child who could become the target of the All-Father's fury. Loki would not get to be a father now—perhaps not at all in this cycle—but she would be safe, and there would be less innocent blood on his hands. Bad enough that the child he and Lucille had conceived had come out twisted and wrong. Bad enough that another part of him had died with that tiny mortal he had barely gotten to know. He should have known better than to hope for anything remotely resembling a family.

He was the God of Chaos, and he only brought chaos and misfortune to the lives of those he loved. Not again. Never again.

With the last threads of seidr he had left, he removed the last traces of poison from his wife's body. He then imprinted the memory of Edith Cushing-Sharpe in his mind, protecting it from the Allfather's magic. And then, he finally succumbed to the unavoidable and let his soul travel back to the Golden Realm. Thomas Sharpe faded into oblivion.

Chapter Text

Tony Stark was a man known for his eccentricities. Before Afghanistan, he drank and partied and spent night after night in the warm embrace of excess.

No one alive knew what he was running from. And after Iron Man and the reactor, he himself forgot. He forgot about ghost stories and strange dreams, and his world became focused on trying to fix the mistakes he'd made while trying to forget. Ironic? Hell, yeah. Story of his life, really.

The palladium poisoning was strangely like an old friend come back to haunt him from a different life. He suspected that in his heart, he had thought the effects would vanish, as if by magic, although it wasn't until much later that he would realize why he'd believe that, and how ridiculous it was that history tended to repeat itself.

And Pepper... Sweet, beautiful Pepper. She was familiar too. He'd felt it the moment he'd first seen her, standing tall and perfectly groomed in her tailored suit. She had been clever and competent, but that hadn't been what had caught his eye.

No, for whatever reason, the first thing he'd thought when he'd met her eyes was, I'm sorry. I hurt you. You can help me.

And if he'd been a better man, he wouldn't have hired her. He would have let her go, helped her build a different life elsewhere. But he didn't, and she slid into her place by his side, as if she'd always been there. And he hurt her and used her all over again, and she helped him and killed for him. When Tony was brave enough to think about it, he drank to drown out the guilt, the not-knowing, the confusion.

But if Tony Stark was good at something, it was at faking it until he could make it. And maybe he and Pepper could have, indeed, made it, if not for the invasion of a strange alien who carried the name of a Norse god.

Tony took one look at Loki and he knew things would never be the same.

Stuttgart made him angry. He still couldn't quite recall why that was, but he felt like Loki owed him something. He had that weird feeling, like there was something on the tip of his tongue, but it was impossible for him to say it.

Irritated, he snarked at Captain Spangles, all the while keeping a close eye on their captive. Until Thor.

One look at Thor, and that anger came rushing back, mingled with a jealousy that didn't really make sense if he analyzed it too closely. "Don't touch my stuff," he told the thunder god. If anyone had heard him say that, they'd probably think it was just the regular Tony Stark posturing, but it wasn't, not for him. If he had any say, Thor wouldn't touch Loki. Ever again.

He was almost relieved when Thor threw the hammer at him. He had never wanted to hurt anyone more than he did the thunder god, not even Howard, or Obie, or the Ten Rings. There was a dark hatred in his heart, stronger than what he'd felt when Yinsen had bled out in his arms. It was incredibly satisfying to direct Thor's own lightning at him, and he had the strange thought that the unibeam would have made a nice shovel. Which, what the fuck?

Unfortunately, Captain Spangles and his stupid shield got in the way before he could end it, so Tony had to play nice. He felt particularly stupid about it when he was trapped in the rotor blades of the Helicarrier engines, but ah well, you couldn't have everything.

Coulson's bloody cards were a low blow, but that wasn't really what he was thinking about later, when he flew his ruined suit to the Tower. It was Thor, Loki, and everything else. It was the dreams that had returned to the forefront of his mind. It was the need to know if he was crazy, or if something else was going on here than nobody could understand.

And then, he landed on the platform at Stark Tower, and Loki was there, and just like that, he knew. He was torn between laughing and screaming, because of course, that was Tony Stark's lot in life. He had to have ridiculous past life memories of being a Norse God's wife.

He walked into the penthouse like he owned the place—which, damn it, he did—and went to the bar.

"Please tell me you're going to appeal to my humanity," said the smooth familiar baritone. And holy hell, how had he not recognized it before? It was exactly the same now as it had been so long ago, when it had murmured soft compliments over the forgotten manuscript of an aspiring author.

Tony poured himself a drink and braced himself for what he was about to say. "Actually I was planning to say thanks."

The God of Mischief arched a perfect dark brow. "Pardon?"

A voice at the back of Tony's mind—that sounded alarmingly like JARVIS, now that he thought about it—made him grab the MARK VII bracelets. Even as he slid them on, he offered his uninvited guest a charming grin.

"Thanks. You know for helping me out that time. With your crazy, murdering maniac of a sister. Lucille, huh? She looks just as insane in her current incarnation."

Loki's deranged smirk vanished like it had never been. "What?"

"You heard me the first time," Tony replied. "Granted, I'm still a little pissed off about you dying. Shitty thing to do to your new bride. Seriously, dude, someone has to teach you some self-preservation, because you're clearly not that good at it." The fact that he of all people was saying that was quite ironic. "I mean... Going to burn the documents she went through so much trouble for? Not a great plan."

Loki's lips twisted into a thin smile. "I'm the God of Chaos. My plans always tend to fall apart."

In that moment, Loki's image superimposed over Tony's memory of the lost dreamer who'd been seeking funding for his inventions. It seemed a lifetime was nowhere near enough to get over past sorrows and regrets.

"I mourned you," he said. "Despite everything, I loved you, and I mourned you." Gah, that was incredibly sentimental. To cover up his discomfort, he asked, "Would you like a drink?"

"Stalling me won't change anything," the god snapped back at him.

"No drink, you sure? I'm having one."

For a few seconds, he allowed himself to enjoy the look of complete confusion on Loki's face. After that, he crossed the distance between them, taking in every line of the body he had once traced with his—her?—lips and fingers. They'd had a single night together, and yet, he still remembered it more clearly than all the times he'd made love with Pepper put together. He was a horrible, horrible person.

"I take it we're not going to play the pretend we don't know each other game, huh?"

Loki stood rigid and unflinching, his back as taut as a bowstring. "The Chitauri are coming. Nothing will change that. And I'm not the man you knew."

"I don't know... I think the invading New York thing isn't that far off from orchestrating the murder of three innocent women, four if I count myself, which I will, even if it's fucking weird, I'll tell you that. It's just a simple matter of... degree."

Loki was so close now that Tony could see every line of his familiar handsome face. Distantly, Tony wondered how it was that Loki was exactly the same whereas he and Thor had gone through such drastic changes? He would have to look into it at one point, preferably when the man he still loved—damn it, Tony—wasn't threatening to take over his planet.

Then again, Thomas had once had a change of heart too. Tony had never quite figured out to what extent Thomas regretted any of the other deaths. In his life as Edith, he'd never been able to talk about it with anyone. Alan had tried to be supportive, but he could have never understood why after everything, Edith had still loved her husband. In his heart, Tony knew that circumstances made the man and he suspected Lucille had orchestrated most of it, but that hadn't absolved Thomas of the crimes.

And yet, even with all that, still Thomas had tried to help Edith, and still he had loved her. Maybe he was not beyond reason. Maybe they could still stop this.

"Stop the cube, Loki. Surely you have to see it. There's no throne, no way for you to come out on top. And I don't want to see you die again."

Something shifted in Loki's eyes. Okay, that was weird. One of the few extremely clear memories Tony had of his life as Edith was the moment she had met Sir Thomas Sharpe's gaze over her manuscript, and she had marveled over the color of his eyes. They were blue, but when he turned just so, they seemed to have sparks of green dancing over the iris.

The balance was off now, and Tony's skin crawled, because for a moment there, it was as if he was looking at an entirely different person. And all right, that was a ridiculous thought to have given these specific circumstances, but there it was.

The irony of Edith Cushing's life was that she had never actually been scared of her husband. Even when she had found out the truth, he hadn't been the one to frighten her. It was more the general situation that she had feared, well, that and the knife-wielding maniac. But him... No. Certainly, he had broken her heart and had horrified her through his actions. But at some level, she had still experienced the same feeling of security that had made her turn to him after her father's death, even when choosing Alan would have been far more logical.

In all likelihood, no matter how many times he reincarnated, Tony Stark would always lack self-preservation, even more so than Loki did.

But that was neither here nor there, because Sir Thomas Sharpe, baronet—the man Edith had mourned, the man Tony Stark had unknowingly searched for—had blue-green eyes that always, always held emotion. This time, the blue in their iris felt like ice, and it weirdly reminded Tony of the glow of the reactor.

He started blabbing something—a threat, a promise? He didn't even know. Loki was not impressed. "How will your friends have time for me," he purred, "when they're so busy fighting you?"

The voice was a mockery of the reverential whispers Tony remembered from the night at the post office. It distracted him so much that he didn't realize what Loki had in mind until he heard it.

Ping.

The tip of the scepter hit the arc reactor with a metallic sound. Tony stared at it, then back at Loki. Yeah, okay, so this wasn't what he had hoped for when he'd tried to make Loki change his mind. He knew what the Glowstick of Destiny did, but he hadn't expected Loki to try to use it on him, of all things.

Another item on the list of why Thomas Sharpe, baronet was the worst husband ever. Fuck.

He heard the scepter power up, then down, like a machine that couldn't quite load all the way. Loki tried again, but still, no dice. Yet again, Tony's arc reactor was saving his stupid ass. Go him.

"This usually works," Loki said with an expression of ultimate confusion on his face.

Tony had another moment of disconnect, when Loki's face mingled with Tony's distant memory of Thomas working on his machine. And seriously, he had to stop doing that. He was an Avenger, for God's sake—kind of, since Fury apparently couldn't be bothered to like him until the world was ending and/or was being taken over by a hostile alien force. Besides, whether or not Tony had been feeling sentimental over their so-called reunion, it was quite clear that Loki didn't feel the same. For fuck's sake, this was just embarrassing. Where was Tony Stark, genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist?

Edith Cushing was dead, just like her crazy husband and his crazier sister. Allerdale Hall and its secrets were a forgotten shadow in history.

Tony Stark didn't believe in ghosts. And he didn't believe in soul mates. He believed in science and facts—and the facts stated that this asshole was his enemy.

There was no curbing his acerbic tongue when he was pissed, and the circumstances were... Well, he didn't think he could be blamed for seizing the opportunity. Upon Loki's ongoing failure to make the Glowstick of Destiny work, Tony said, "Performance issues, not uncommon. One out of five..."

In hindsight, it was not the best thing to tell a supervillain whose idea of a good time was carving people's eyes outs. A hysterical voice at the back of his mind pointed out the Loki he remembered had no performance issues, nope, but that became irrelevant when Loki's nostrils flared in obvious anger. He grabbed Tony by the throat and threw him down, and okay, yeah, even someone as reckless as Tony could figure out that this was one situation he didn't want to be in.

"You know, I like it rough as much as the next guy," he quipped, "but I have to draw the line somewhere. Safe, sane and consensual, you know."

Loki ignored him, and Tony hissed under his breath, "JARVIS, deploy."

And then, the world was shifting again, and he was flying through the window of his own tower and falling, falling so impossibly fast it hurt to breathe.

In a weird development, it reminded Tony of Edith's fall from the upper levels of Allerdale Hall. It wasn't even remotely the same, and yet, he could not deny the familiarity. And it was incredibly annoying, because for fuck's sake, he'd had more adventurous falls, including, but not limited to the one after his intrepid escape from the Ten Rings—blaze of fire, baby—and the first experiment with MARK II, which JARVIS still nagged him about. All these flashes from his past life were starting to be ridiculous.

Unfortunately, they didn't help distract him from the fact that he was quite possibly plummeting to his death, and in ten seconds or less, the asphalt would be decorated with a brand new genius-billionaire-playboy-philanthropist pancake. Maybe that was the difference, the fact that this time around, he didn't have the protection of the suit. He was still hoping JARVIS had managed to deploy the MARK VII in time, but things weren't looking good.

All of a sudden, a flicker of green flashed through the corner of his eye, and the air around him seemed to sizzle. Was he slowing down? He seemed to be. The ground was still approaching awfully fast, but not as quickly as it had before.

The delay was enough, and the suit caught him instants before he could hit the ground. Tony shot back up toward the penthouse and found Loki on the Iron Man platform.

Before he could even dare to ask the question on his lips—Why? Was it you?—a spear of blue split the skies, and the Chitauri starting coming through the portal. Tony shot one last repulsor blast at Loki—he was still pissed, damn it—and then focused on the new enemy.

It was much later, as he was delivering a nuclear missile into the portal—and seriously, WSC, what the fuck?—that Tony could think at all about what was happening. He called Pepper, as per JARVIS's suggestion, but he found in dismay that it was Loki whom he'd have liked to see.

Maybe Captain Spangles was right. He was no hero. After all, the hero wouldn't want to be with the villain, right? It never happened that way in the comics Tony had read as a kid.

What-the-fuck-ever. Whether he was a hero or not, Tony was taking the liberty to think about whoever the hell he wanted to in the last moments of his life. It helped. The darkness at the other side of the portal almost seemed to reach into his suit, like the spectral fingers that had once haunted Edith Cushing. But then, the flicker of green was there again, and even as the suit's systems failed, Tony could keep his eyes open and think, "I did it." And The Merchant of Death inside him deemed the explosion beautiful, almost as beautiful as the real color of Loki's eyes.

After that... Well, unconsciousness was an old friend, almost as old as pain. He woke up on the ground, unable to move—but not a pancake, yay, go him—with Spangles, Hulk and Thor of all people hovering above him.

"What the hell..." he blurted out. "What just happened? Please tell me nobody kissed me."

The captain had a nice smile when he wasn't being an asshole. "We won."

Chapter Text

The green beast packed quite a punch. That was the first thing that occurred to Loki when he crawled out of the crater the being who sometimes called himself Bruce Banner had made with his body.

Too bad Loki hadn't gotten to meet with the Hulk on the Helicarrier, as he had hoped. The Hulk's strength had indeed dislodged the Other's hold on Loki's mind, but it was too late to stop what was already in motion.

His magic reserves were pathetically dim. Fighting the Other's control long enough to slow down Stark's fall had been even more painful than the Hulk's attack. But Loki still had enough strength and incentive to check on Stark's location.

It was a good thing he did, too, because he managed to zero in on the suit just as the Man of Iron was entering the portal. The void was no place for a human—it had broken Loki's mind, and he was a God—so Loki was left scrambling for the last of his power in an attempt to hastily put together some mental shields.

He probably would have failed if Stark had been anyone else. But the Man of Iron was remarkable in more than one way, and his own brilliant mind supported Loki's power. He didn't even realize he was doing it, but that was really beside the point. The important thing was that it worked.

When the explosion hit the Chitauri mother ships, Loki gritted his teeth and tried to hasten Stark's fall. Stark went through the portal, as Loki had hoped, but Loki didn't have enough power to actually catch him.

Fortunately, the green beast did it in his stead. Loki made a mental note that he owed Doctor Banner a boon, if not two. If he managed to survive this—which was at best, incredibly unlikely—he would have to show his gratitude.

Such considerations would have to wait, however, because now, Loki had bigger concerns. The machine in Stark's chest—which according to Barton kept Stark alive—was no longer glowing.

Loki had one chance. He could let go of the spell tracking Stark and use the last of his magic to teleport away, take refuge in another realm where he could rest and lick the wounds he'd earned while in Thanos's captivity. But if he did that, Stark would die.

There was no choice really. Loki let his magic flow over the machine. For a brief instant, he feared that it would resist him, like it had the Mind Gem in the scepter, but it didn't. Impossibly, the device seemed attuned to Stark's core, which in turn meant that it recognized Loki's power and responded to him, flaring back to life.

The downside of this was that it sucked him dry of everything he had left. He could do nothing but slump back into the crater and lay there, defeated.

All things considered, it hadn't gone as poorly as it could have. Thanos's army was in tatters. Even if Thanos didn't particularly care about the Chitauri—they were just mindless pawns to him—it was still a heavy blow, and it would slow him down. Of course, as a side bonus, Loki got to see the people who'd tortured him brought down and defeated. That was always nice.

And then there was Tony Stark. Loki hadn't recognized the man when he'd seen Barton's file on him. It was only after Stuttgart that he'd realized his soul mate had once again been reborn as a Midgardian.

Tony Stark, the Man of Iron, the unlikely hero, the genius who'd partied hard and crashed even harder, but whose sacrifice that saved everyone in this city. He might not have seemed much like Loki's fair Edith, but Loki knew better. Tony's intelligence, courage and loyalty always shone through, no matter his incarnation. Here, he was larger than life, but that was because he'd been born in a world who both hated and loved him, but could never ignore him or cram him into a forgettable role.

Tony Stark would undoubtedly hate him after today, but Loki found he was all right with that. He had not expected his soul mate to remember him at all. He suspected it was an unexpected side-effect of Loki using his magic to help Edith, although it could just as well be simply the strength of Tony's soul. Very few people remembered their past lives—and Midgardians almost never did—but Tony had been born as Loki's match in everything, including power.

Whatever the case, it was better for Tony to continue his life as Midgard's hero. Loki would have to make sure Asgard knew everything about Thanos before he was put to death, but Thor's recent infatuation with the mortal Foster gave him incentive to fight for the Midgardians. Also, if nothing else, the All-Father could be counted on to admit Thanos was a threat, not only to Midgard, but to all the realms.

It would have to be enough, because Loki could not reveal the truth about Stark's connection to him. That way lay only madness and tragedy. If Odin and Thor did not kill Stark, someone else undoubtedly would, especially now that Loki had proven he was indeed meant to be the Destroyer of Worlds.

Perhaps once he was gone, people would forget. Loki certainly hoped so. He feared what Heimdall had seen of his and Tony's conversation. No one but Odin and the treacherous gatekeeper knew what had happened during Loki and Thor's lives as the Sharpe siblings. Even Frigga was completely unaware, although that wasn't exactly surprising given that it had been in the terms of their sentence. As far as Loki had been able to tell, the All-Father had not identified Edith as Loki's soul mate, but the fact that Tony remembered him could change that. Loki would have to make sure to draw Asgard's attention from his dealings with the Man of Iron. Just the idea exhausted him. Who would have thought the Liesmith would one day get tired of lies?

He was still in the crater, musing over this and trying to gather his strength, when the Avengers entered the room. They made quite an interesting picture, an exhausted mess after the battle, but still ready and alert. Barton was in fact already preparing an arrow, undoubtedly eager to show his appreciation for being mind-controlled. Ironically, Loki could empathize, although he doubted Barton would believe that or appreciate it should Loki say so.

It was somewhat alarming that the Widow was holding the staff with the Mind Gem. Even without the Other to exert direct control, the Gem was powerful. He could only hope the mortals weren't foolish enough to try to keep it.

Most importantly, Stark was there, and seeing him on his feet made mischief spark in Loki's chest once again. He smiled sheepishly. "If it's all the same to you," he said, "I think I'll have that drink now."

He didn't expect anything to come of his request. The Man of Iron would have to be crazy to comply, especially now, after the battle, with all his team mates here.

But then, Loki's soul mate never did what was expected of him—or her. "Oh, what the hell," he said. "Sure thing, Reindeer Games. I did, after all, offer."

The Avengers stared at Tony as the man's machines removed his armor. The soldier out of time opened and closed his mouth, obviously trying to come up with something to say. Barton looked like he didn't know who to shoot first—Loki or Tony. Thor was eying Tony with barely veiled discontent. Even the Widow seemed shocked, although she hid it well under the blank mask that reminded Loki so much of his own.

The only one who took it in stride was the Hulk. In a surprising twist, the green beast plopped down next to Loki and poked him with a large finger. "Puny god pretty green."

Loki went cold. It seemed there was more to the Hulk than met the eye. The green beast must have sensed his magic when he'd restarted the reactor. Would he remember the information when he turned back into Banner? Loki hoped not, because the consequence could be disastrous.

Hulk's reaction was weird enough that it distracted the rest of the Avengers from Tony. They were reminded of how the conversation had started when Tony returned, offering Loki a glass full of brown liquid.

"Yeah, Big Green, Reindeer Games matches your color scheme. Awesome, right? Maybe you guys can bond over that, and shared hobbies."

Barton scoffed. "Like destroying property and killing people?"

Tony narrowed his eyes. "That wasn't exactly what I had in mind, no."

The captain intervened before Tony could get into what exactly he had meant—which would have been unfortunate, since he'd undoubtedly guessed some things too. "The Hulk is a hero," he said, his jaw set in a patriotic jut. "We're not discussing that. Barton, that comment was out of line. Tony, we're not here to treat Loki to happy hour, but to take him captive."

Tony didn't reply. He just looked at Loki, scanning his face, as if looking for answers to questions Loki could not hear.

It was Thor who broke the stalemate. He grabbed Loki's arm, pulling him up so abruptly it jarred the healing bones. Loki narrowly managed not to drop the glass with his drink. "Enough of this. My brother does not deserve this courtesy, Son of Stark. He must face justice."

"Yeah, yeah, Point Break," Tony said. "I just have a few questions of my own." He looked at the gathered Avengers, and then relented. "But I suppose it can wait. I did promise you guys shawarma. And God, my head is killing me. I need a drink."

The tension in the room seemed to break now that Tony was acting like his normal self. The Widow was still eying him with a calculating expression, but there was nothing Loki could do about it. He had to trust Tony would not act so recklessly again, at least not in a way that could attract negative attention from his own allies. The trip through the void had undoubtedly shaken him, even with Loki's efforts to protect him.

Loki decided to make it clear there was no intimacy between him and Stark. The best way to do this was, ironically, through manners. "Regardless of Thor's words, I appreciate your generosity, Man of Iron." He let himself sound suspicious and tense, as if he himself didn't know what to make of Tony's behavior.

"Don't expect a repeat, Reindeer Games," Tony said off-handedly. "Defenestration on the first date is a huge no-no in my book."

The captain heaved out a sigh and turned toward Thor. "We should go see Fury. Undoubtedly, he'd want to debrief."

"I vote for not." Tony grimaced. "I'm still pissed over the nuking Manhattan thing."

"Can't blame you there," Barton said, having apparently regained his calm now that no one was being nice to Loki. "Shit, I need to talk to Coulson. He'll have a field day with the paperwork."

The very air in the room seemed to freeze. It was the Widow who drew Barton aside, whereas Stark fell strangely silent. Ah, Coulson. The warrior with the Destroyer gun. Loki had regretted stabbing him, because ironically, he'd seen what Loki's own not-brother had been unable to—that Loki lacked conviction. Unfortunately, he had been in the way, and it had placed him at odds with the goals the Other and Thanos had so painstakingly hammered into Loki's mind.

Loki hoped that the son of Coul could one day come back to reunite with his loved ones, or if not, that he would find his way to Valhalla.

At any rate, whatever Stark had wanted to say or do had been set aside in the wake of the reminder of the warrior's death. Barton had to be physically kept from assaulting Loki—apparently the two of them had been close, how unfortunate—and no one argued when the captain once again reiterated the need to return to SHIELD.

When Thor shackled and muzzled him, Loki didn't protest. He showed no sign of discomfort, even if Thor squeezed his arm a little too tightly or pressed himself a little closer than necessary.

It didn't matter. Thor didn't seem to have noticed anything amiss about Stark, and that was the only thing that Loki had been truly worried about.

The hardest part—Asgard—was still to come, and the Fates had never been kind to Loki. But perhaps, this time around, they would at least have mercy on his soul mate.

Loki could only hope that was the case, because no matter how remarkable Tony Stark might be, he was no match for the power of the Golden Realm, and the wrath of the All-Father.

Chapter Text

After the Battle of New York, Tony didn't see Loki again for quite some time. His little stunt in Stark Tower had Natashalie—also known as the Black Widow—watching him like a hawk. (And yes, he was aware of the irony, but he had to get his kicks somewhere.) Fortunately, Tony was very good at dancing around the truth. It wasn't even as hard as all that, given that this time around, the truth was far less believable than the lie.

Naturally, one of the first things they did—after shawarma—was to ask Tony about the questions he'd wanted to direct to Loki. Tony actually did have other stuff to ask—other than, 'by any chance did you save my life?'—and he had a lot to say about the nuclear bomb he'd been forced to deliver into the nightmarish void beyond the portal.

Why had the Chitauri on Earth all died after the nuclear bomb? How had Loki even found these creatures? What about the Glowstick of Destiny? Was it Asgardian magic?

It was with a great deal of satisfaction that Tony pointed out Thor had been incredibly vague about the details of Loki's plan, and that had the nice side-effect of making the furious cyclops direct his doubtful eye at the maniac thunder god.

Unfortunately, this meant that Thor soon dispensed with pleasantries and made it clear that Loki and the cube belonged on Asgard. Fury didn't question it—and Tony wished he had blamed the guy more, but he couldn't argue with the decision either. So far, SHIELD hadn't made the best calls when it came to alien technology.

The Avengers 'assembled' one last time in Central Park, the day Loki was supposed to depart. Tony had Bruce along, and his science bro was a far more of a soothing presence than one would have expected of a guy who turned into a giant green rage monster. It helped, because the sight of Loki with the muzzle on made his stomach roil.

Tony hid behind his sunglasses, stuck close to Bruce, snarked at Cap and smirked at Loki, like it was expected of him. Loki kept his eyes down, studiously ignoring all of them. Thor dragged Loki along, which clearly pleased Barton. Spangles looked like he just wanted to get the whole thing over with—Tony couldn't blame him—and Bruce... Bruce was quiet and stuck to Tony as much as Tony did to him.

Something inside Tony was screaming for him to stop this. It felt fundamentally wrong to watch Loki go along with Thor's actions, as justified as those actions might have seemed. It reminded Tony painfully of a life he was once again trying to forget. And then, Loki gripped the handle of the Tesseract device, and the two Asgardians disappeared in a flash of light, and just like that, it hit Tony.

The blue in Loki's eyes... It hadn't been like the reactor, or ice. It had been the same blue of the Tesseract, and the Glowstick of Destiny.

It took everything in Tony's power not to drop to his knees and scream. Ironically, Spangles kept him together when he came forth to shake Tony's hand. Simply out of the force of necessity, Tony had to play along. It was too late to do anything about it now, at least here. Screaming and raging at his own stupidity would not help. No, he had to find another solution.

He was very relieved when the Avengers finally parted ways—with Bruce coming along with Tony, of course. He was even more relieved when Bruce cut off any of Tony's attempts to make light of the situation. "You feel it too, don't you? Something's not right."

Yes, Tony felt it, but he had an advantage Bruce did not. How could Bruce know? He didn't even remember most of the battle.

"What do you mean?" he asked, keeping his gaze on the road.

Bruce let him get away with answering a question with a question, but Tony knew better than to think he'd be able to do that forever. "I just get the feeling I'm missing something."

Tony hummed noncommittally. "I need a drink."

Bruce said nothing else. Clearly he got the message that Tony didn't want to address the issue in the car. In truth, Tony was still thinking about what he could and could not share with Bruce. For some weird reason, he felt like he could trust his science bro. Bruce might have breathtaking anger management issues, but Tony liked him—and he liked his Other Guy too. And hadn't Bruce spent a long time abroad? Maybe he wouldn't think Tony's reincarnation theory was too crazy.

Either way, he could not talk about it in the open. He didn't know who might be listening, and hey, it's not paranoia when they're really out to get you.

Back at the Tower, Tony directed JARVIS to the labs. It was the safest place in the entire building, and the penthouse wasn't in the best condition either. Pepper was still handling the repairs, and Tony really didn't want to think about that, or about how he was supposed to handle their relationship now.

He had told himself that he could let go of the past now that he knew Loki was an unrepentant war criminal, but still, he had not been able to do much beyond kissing her after she'd returned from her trip. And now... Well, it was yet another example of how Tony always, always fucked her over.

Tony shoved back the thoughts to the corner of his mind and focused on Bruce. "Jay, lock up the labs," he told his AI. "Complete blackout. Nothing comes in, nothing goes out."

"Understood, Sir," JARVIS replied. His voice was sedate, but these days, JARVIS tended to be more sedate, as if the void had left a trace on him too.

Tony petted DUM-E on his chassis, poured himself a drink from the bar he kept in the lab, then finally addressed Bruce's question. "I know something is wrong, but you're probably going to think I'm crazy."

"At least then we can be crazy together," Bruce said. "Look, Tony... Remember when I told you how it's like when I'm the Hulk?" Tony nodded. "Yes, well, my recollections of it aren't always clear, and as a rule, I'm fine with that. But now, since the Battle... I get the feeling... It's like there's this thing constantly nudging me, at the back of my mind. I can't remember no matter how hard I try, but I think... I think the Other Guy figured something out."

Tony remembered the Hulk's weird exchange with Loki. No one had given it much thought—who could understand the Hulk anyway?—but clearly that had been an oversight.

"JARV, pull up the files from the battle. My little chat with Reindeer Games, and then after, when Brucey's Other Guy spoke to Loki."

Of course, the file had audio, but that was a calculated risk. Technically speaking, he could have told JARVIS to isolate the video feed, but he had to share this with someone. So far, only the AI knew about his memories of Edith Cushing's life, and while it had helped, he needed another ally.

To his credit, Bruce watched the conversation without comment. Tony didn't look at him. "JARV, zoom in on Loki's eyes. Here and after Loki's match with the Hulk."

Once again, JARVIS complied, and the image appeared on a separate screen. Tony didn't know if he wanted to cheer or to curse when he saw Loki's eyes were back to normal in the post-Hulk image. He'd been too out of it to notice when he'd handed Loki the drink. Damn it, Tony.

"Loki was mind-controlled too?" Bruce asked.

"Looks like," Tony answered. He took another gulp of whiskey, relishing in the burn of the drink so that he wouldn't feel the one in his eyes. God, he was such a fuck-up. How could he have been so lost in his own head that he'd missed the obvious? "The Hulk must have noticed."

"Tony, why didn't you say anything?" Bruce asked.

Something snapped inside Tony, even if Bruce's voice wasn't accusing. He threw the glass, and it shattered against the wall of the lab. "I haven't been in the best frame of mind, okay? I'm not exactly unbiased when it comes to Loki. And I thought... I just wanted to forget the whole thing."

To forget he'd ever seen the void. To forget he'd ever remembered Edith Cushing. To forget experiencing the pain of seeing the love of his life betray him, and then die.

"That conversation... Did you know him? From before the invasion?"

"Sort of." Tony's anger drained out of him. "This is where the crazy part starts. Brucey... Do you believe in reincarnation?"

"I haven't given it much thought." Bruce shrugged. "It makes as much sense as any theory of the great beyond, I suppose, and to be honest, it appeals to me more than other suggestions. In nature, nothing is created, nothing is lost, everything changes."

Tony couldn't help a weak smile. Trust Brucey to have a scientific approach of spirituality. "That's quite right, although it sounds more outlandish when you actually remember it."

"So... You knew Loki in another life?"

Much to Tony's surprise, Bruce didn't sound disbelieving, just curious. It encouraged Tony, and he nodded. "I just... What I said, about the sister, and him helping me... In that life, he was a British baronet, and Thor was his older sister."

"Wait... Thor, too?"

Tony nodded. "I was an American authoress." He decided it was too disturbing to continue talking about it in first person, since at the end of the day, he wasn't actually Edith. He was Tony. "Edith Cushing—that was who I was—married Thomas, but as it turns out, it was a ploy to save their failing estate. He was having an affair with his sister. It wasn't the first time he'd done it either. He married rich women and then they mysteriously died."

Bruce winced, but Tony continued before his science bro could draw any conclusions. "As Edith later learned, Lucille—that's Thor—orchestrated most of it. It's... It's hard to explain. Thomas... He was a good man, in his own way. I know it's difficult to believe, but when Lucille tried to kill Edith, he saved her life. It's complicated, but I think he was trapped in an inescapable situation. Lucille killed him by the way, and after that, Edith killed Lucille."

For the longest time, Bruce didn't say anything. Tony dared to look at his science bro, only to find him staring at Tony with a strange expression on his face. "Bruce? You okay?"

"Yeah. It's just... That's another weird thing. I don't know why, but I really dislike Thor. I mean, really, inexplicably dislike him. I don't feel that way toward Loki. I thought maybe it was because of the Helicarrier battle, but that doesn't really make sense. And now..."

Something in Bruce's tone drew Tony's attention. He peered closer to his science bro's face, and that was when he saw it. Yet another thing he had missed.

It was not as obvious as in Pepper, maybe because of the Other Guy. Or maybe Tony had been so busy having a breakdown that he'd simply been blind to it. Well, it definitely explained why Tony was so comfortable around Bruce, and why he instinctively felt he could trust the Hulk.

"Oh my God," he breathed out.

Bruce shot him a concerned look, and Tony almost sobbed when he remembered that exact expression on a different face, an aging face, one belonging to the only man Edith Cushing had truly loved—other than Thomas, of course. "What... Tony, what?"

"I..." Tony shook his head. "You'll never believe it."

"Come on, Tony, you've told me enough weird things. I'm not going to run away now."

Brucey had a point. Tony braced himself, hoping Bruce was as level-headed and supportive as he had been in his past life. "Edith's father knew something was not right about them, about the Sharpe siblings. And Lucille... She killed him. She killed... you."

The image of the caved in skull flashed through his mind's eye, and Tony had to turn away, because he felt like he was going to throw up. Bruce's warm hand landed on his shoulder. "It's okay, Tony. Let's just... Let's start over. Tell me everything. I get the feeling you've skipped a lot of details."

Tony almost laughed. That was putting it lightly.

Still not looking at Bruce, Tony spoke. He told Bruce of the ghosts, of the Crimson Peak warning, of Edith's meeting with Thomas Sharpe, baronet. He spoke of Carter Sharpe's affection toward his daughter and his doubts toward Thomas and Lucille. Then, Thomas's angry words at the party, and the letter, and Carter's death. Edith had never gotten the chance to talk to her father about what had made him turn the Sharpes away, but what Alan had showed her had made things pretty clear.

Alan. Tony couldn't forget about Alan. He had come to save Edith from her own heart, and had almost died for it. He probably would have, if Thomas hadn't somehow managed to circumvent Lucille at the last moment.

Alan had stayed by her side for years after Allerdale Hall. Once the respectful time of mourning had passed, he had proposed to her, much to the dismay of the rest of his family. She had turned him away, because her heart had been buried with Thomas, and it wouldn't have been fair to Alan for him to marry someone who did not love him.

He had eventually married someone else, although by then, Edith had distanced herself from him in the hope of letting him build a new life. She had turned to her books and life had slowly gone by. But secretly, every night, whenever she turned off her light, she had hoped that Thomas's ghost would come to see her. It had never happened. Now Tony knew why.

There was too much about Crimson Peak he was still struggling to process, too much sadness and gore and regret. He skimmed over those parts and made a mental note to have JARVIS look up whatever files were left of the Sharpe and Cushing families and put something together for Bruce. If nothing else, it might help Tony too, help him accept all this, feel less like he was losing his mind.

"I don't understand any of this, Brucey," he finally said. "I don't get why all the people Edith once knew are suddenly here too. It makes no sense, and in the past, before Loki, I always doubted what little I remembered. Now... It's a little hard to do."

Bruce was more perceptive than Tony himself realized. "All the people... It's not just me, Thor and Loki."

At this point, Tony couldn't bring himself to deny anything. "Pepper. She's my Alan. Literally. I... I have to find a way to do what Edith did then. I can't make her happy, just like Edith couldn't with Alan. But... I feel lost. And now this." Anger coursed through him as he pointed at the displays. "He's gone again, and I could have helped him, but I didn't."

"Yeah, it's pretty bad," Bruce mused. "And I don't know if you're much into Norse myths, but Asgard isn't Loki's biggest fan."

Great, another thing he had to worry about. "I wasn't much of a mythology buff, no," he admitted. At the time, he hadn't known Thomas was Loki, and even if he had, he would have probably tried to ignore it anyway.

"Well, if the old stories are to be believed, he had a rough time on Asgard. The Poetic Edda has some pretty nightmarish imagery of the creative punishments Loki suffered."

Tony had JARVIS pull up the Wikipedia page on Loki the Norse God. He had actively avoided it before, keeping himself busy with other things, but now, he couldn't resist any longer. It was like that urge to watch a train wreck—horrified fascination.

Tony only skimmed the pages, but by the time he was done, he felt like that day Christine Everheart had shown him the pictures of Gulmira—no, worse. He grabbed the bottle of whiskey and drank straight out of it, without bothering with a glass.

He wasn't completely unfamiliar with the stories, he realized. Some of the concepts and imagery had slid into popular culture, so Tony had a vague recollection of it. But after reading the details, it was too easy to imagine Loki—his Loki—in that position. It was too easy to remember Loki's defeated pose as Thor took him away.

"We have to do something, Brucey. This isn't right."

"I agree," Bruce said. "I admit I don't know what to make of your reincarnation story—still working on processing that—but Loki was clearly mind-controlled. The invasion wasn't his fault." He pinned Tony with a glance. "You're the genius here, Tony. How exactly can we do that?"

Tony didn't feel too much like a genius, but Bruce's words helped shake him out of his self-pity. Facts started lining up in his mind.

Fact: The only way Loki and Thor had managed to travel back to Asgard was through the Tesseract.

Fact: Howard had studied the Tesseract.

Fact: Howard had left notes for Tony, notes which he'd later used for the element in his new arc reactor.

Fact: As far as Tony knew, SHIELD had kept the Glowstick of Destiny. (Side note: Tony had mixed feelings about that, because he didn't trust SHIELD with an instrument that could be used for mind-control, but neither did he trust Asgard. Also, what the hell, Thor? I know you have a hard on for your little brother, but seriously, priorities...)

Fact: Doctor Selvig's machine was still somewhere in SHIELD storage.

Fact: Jane Foster had been studying wormholes ever since the New Mexico incident. (Side note: What exactly had even happened there and why had Loki sent that automaton after Thor?)

Conclusion:

"We need to reverse engineer the Tesseract."

Chapter Text

 Loki's return to Asgard went pretty much as he expected. The Tesseract left them on the ruins of the Bifrost, and Loki stubbornly kept his eyes away from the edge of the bridge. He did not look forward to getting a glimpse at the spot that likely marked one of the worst decisions in his long life.

Heimdall was waiting for them, and even if he seemed as stoic as ever, Loki could read the glitter of smugness in his golden eyes. If not for the muzzle, Loki would have sneered, but it was just as well that he couldn't. He wouldn't give Heimdall the satisfaction.

Thor flew them to the palace, a small mercy since the last thing Loki wanted was to have the citizens of Asgard watch as the disgraced fallen prince was dragged home in chains. It was unsurprising that Sif and the Idiots Three met them in the courtyard of the palace.

"Thor!" Sif exclaimed, and seriously, how did Thor not see that she was smitten with him? "You're back."

"Indeed, my dear Lady Sif, I have returned victorious from the battle against the Chitauri."

Fandral squeezed Thor's shoulder. "We knew you would."

Loki wanted to roll his eyes. He had no idea why the Idiots Three trusted Thor so much when he'd nearly gotten them killed so many times. Then again, it was probably just because he was... Thor. Loki had once been very much like them.

"You have my thanks," Thor said. "But we will speak later, my friends. I must return the Tesseract and Loki to my father."

The phrasing was jarring, and despite himself, Loki twitched. On Midgard, Thor had spoken to him like they were truly brothers, but whatever sentiment had possessed him to do so seemed to have dissipated in the light of the Golden Realm, because he was now treating Loki like an object. A stolen relic, now retrieved from where it had fallen. Just like the Tesseract.

Like he had said, Thor dragged Loki to the throne room. Courtiers stared and pointed as Loki passed, and Loki ignored the jabs, since it would not do him any good to dwell on minor slights when he had bigger things—Thanos—to worry about.

Odin was, as ever, seated on Hlidskjalf, with Frigga standing by his side. Loki remembered his brief stint on the golden throne, and he didn't envy the All-Father. Laufey had been right. Even after the Odinsleep, the All-Father looked weary.

At a different time, Loki would have been concerned. Now... He couldn't even tell if he cared anymore.

Thor dropped to one knee and forced Loki down too. "Father, I have returned from my quest on Midgard."

"My son," Odin said. "Welcome back."

Loki didn't react. He knew Odin wasn't talking to him. He hated that he still felt a pang of loss because of it, but Norns help him if he would let it show.

Thor got up, but left Loki kneeling. Just to be contrary, Loki stood as well, although quite frankly, he felt exhausted enough that he would have preferred to lie down and sleep. There was a little shuffle as Thor tried to get him to kneel again, but Thor had only ever been discreet in his life as a mortal woman, and even then, he preferred to bludgeon things to death. Being careful was not in his nature, and fighting Loki in the middle of the throne room would be an embarrassment.

Fortunately, the All-Father put a stop to it when he left the throne and took the Tesseract from Thor's hands. Given how much trouble the artifact had caused, Loki expected Odin to quickly dismiss him—possibly bury him in the deepest dungeon of Asgard—so that he could safeguard it in the Weapons Vault. But here, things began to change from Loki's expectations.

The butt of Gungnir hit the floor several times, a signal to the rest of the court. Upon the All-Father's command, everyone left. The golden hall was now empty, save for the Asgardian royal family—and Loki. He had to remember he wasn't one of them anymore. No, cancel that. He never had been.

Once the doors closed, Frigga was in motion. She rushed to Loki's side, her hands already working at the bindings of the muzzle. "Loki. Oh, Loki, my poor boy."

Loki was surprised at the outburst, and further, that the All-Father had allowed it. He was even more surprised when the muzzle fell to the side. He had been prepared to face the All-Mother's disappointment, if not her hatred, but he had not steeled himself for her tears.

The offending remark was on his lips. "Have I made you proud?"

He didn't say it. He didn't say anything. He had wondered, back when he'd been in the dark depths of Thanos's dungeons, whether her affections had also been a lie. Now that he looked at her, he could see clearly that there, at least, he had been offered a truth. His mother had loved him. She still did.

And maybe, if things had been different, he would have found that an even greater offense—because in the end, her love had not been enough to keep the All-Father from using him. It had not mitigated the lies that had destroyed his sanity. But a spark of reason reminded Loki that he still had something he could lose. The Man of Iron was still in danger. If nothing else, having the All-Mother's ear could not hurt.

When he buried his face in her hair, he told himself it was only because he knew he could use her in the future. Loki had ever been good at lying, even to himself.

"Enough," the All-Father finally snapped. "I will speak to the prisoner alone."

Frigga pulled away, and Odin handed her the Tesseract. She gestured for Thor to follow. Thor looked dubious, but he didn't argue with the commands.

Odin watched Loki with a disapproving eye, and something angry and dark stirred in Loki's heart. He couldn't bear to see Odin pretend to be the perfect father, not after everything that had happened.

The masks went back on, and Loki laughed. "I really don't see what all the fuss is about."

Odin's lips thinned. "Do you not see the gravity of your crimes? Wherever you go, there is war, ruin and death."

Loki arched a brow. "Remind me, All-Father. What exactly do the Midgardians call you? Ah, yes, the gallows-god of wisdom, war and death."

Just how many people had Odin killed in his long history as All-Father? Did he even remember? Did Thor?

A shadow swept through Odin's lone eye, but he said nothing. Instead, he leaned in closer to Loki, staring him straight in the face. It was unnerving to be so close to the All-Father, but Loki held onto his composure. If Odin had noticed something was not right with him, he had to be ready to divert the All-Father's attention to Thanos.

"I have watched your actions on Midgard from Hlidskjalf," Odin finally said. "I wondered then... Why could I see you? Ever have you hidden from me, and from Heimdall's eye. I thought it was your way to spit into Asgard's face one last time."

Loki wanted to laugh. Who exactly had been the one to say 'No, Loki', when he had been literally hanging onto the edge of nothingness?

Odin didn't give him time to react. "But I see now, I was mistaken. Your seidr... Where is it?"

Loki couldn't help but tense. Of course Odin had noticed. He was an experienced sorcerer as well, and he must have realized the green in Loki's eyes was faded.

"The mortals did not welcome me as they would a benevolent god," he said. "Admittedly, I underestimated the green one."

"Perhaps." Odin paused. "What of the Man of Iron? Did you underestimate him?"

No. Odin had seen. Odin knew.

This was the exact scenario Loki had been hoping to avoid. In truth, he would have tried to shield himself back on Midgard, but his stay with Thanos had consumed a great deal of his magic. Besides, before he'd met Stark, being seen had been the whole point. He could not circumvent Thanos's plans from the shadows.

His silver tongue failed him, but he managed to come up with an answer. "I definitely did not expect him to single-handedly defeat the Chitauri fleet."

"Let us not play games," Odin said. "The punishment after Nornheim was supposed to be the knowledge of two people—myself and Heimdall. And now, I learn that this was not the case, that, in fact, you do remember and so does your mortal spouse."

Loki's mouth went dry. "All-Father..."

"No, Loki." No, Loki, just like the time on the bridge. "I will have no more of your lies. What do you intend, to use the Man of Iron as your tool to rule Midgard? He is a powerful figure on his realm."

Yes, he was. Loki had already seen it. Stark was a king in his own right, and that made him a threat for the All-Father.

Thanos. Focus on Thanos.

"All-Father, there are more important issues at stake than my slight... connection to the Man of Iron. The Chitauri—"

"I will not have you deceive me any longer. Frigga is the reason you still live. Should my suspicions be confirmed, you will never see her again, and your Man of Iron will pay the price for your folly."

Loki panicked. "All-Father, no. You don't understand. When I fell—"

The All-Father waved a hand, and Loki's lips zipped shut. It was a simple spell, one that would have not affected Loki if he'd had his abilities. In his state, he could not fight it.

"Indeed, I do not understand," the All-Father said. "I feel like I haven't understood you for a long time."

Odin waved Gungnir and the doors opened once again. Guards streamed in, surrounding Loki. "Take him to the dungeons."

Loki wanted to struggle, but he knew that for the moment, it would be futile and quite possibly counter-productive. The All-Father had no reached a decision yet. He would see Loki again, and once that happened, Loki could talk to him, make him see reason.

Asgard's cells were as horrible as Loki remembered them. He'd never actually seen one from the inside, but now, he could appreciate the cruel intelligence of it.

There was light, light everywhere, so bright it hurt Loki's eyes. There was no real way to rest, even when he forced himself to lie down. Loki would have probably hated it even more than he did if his past experience with enclosure hadn't acquainted him with absolute darkness.

On the positive side, his cell wasn't entirely lacking in comforts. Loki knew without being told that the books, food and furniture came from Frigga. He had to talk to her. Surely, she could get Odin to see reason.

He didn't see Frigga. In fact, no one came to talk to him at all. Passage of time was impossible to measure, and Loki would have probably lost track of it if not for the regular change of the guard and the rhythm of the arrival of the meals.

Two days after his return to Asgard, Loki was once again taken to the throne room, and once again left alone with the All-Father. The expression on Odin's face was glum, and it didn't bode well for Loki.

The All-Father didn't bother with pleasantries, instead choosing to jump straight to the matter at hand. "Do you know that as we speak, the mortal seeks you? He seeks the secrets of the Tesseract. He believes you to be blameless in the invasion."

Loki let his eyes drift shut. Oh, Tony.

"All-Father, if you saw me, you must know that we only spoke briefly. The Man of Iron is a hero of Midgard. Whatever else we might have been to one another, it was in a different life. It matters not."

"It matters to you," Odin replied. Suddenly, he seemed old. "You might not believe this, Loki, but you are my son. Nonetheless, I am the king of Asgard, and I have a duty to the nine realms."

Loki started to tremble. The world was going fuzzy around the edges, and all the well-constructed arguments he'd thought of in his cell were slipping through his metaphorical fingers like smoke. "The Man of Iron is not a threat."

"I do not believe that, and I don't think you believe it either, but that is beside the point. I have made a decision, Loki. It has become clear to me over the past year that, with all my wisdom, I have in fact missed the obvious. Neither Hlidskjalf nor Heimdall can see everything. You have been beyond my reach since your fall. And I would hear your words, but I cannot bring myself to trust them. But I can trust your heart and your mind. I would see what you have to say."

Loki gaped. He knew the spell of which Odin spoke. "All-Father, no."

"I'm sorry, Loki. I realize it is a violation, but I fear that it is the only method that could truly shed some light to the situation."

Loki's anger got the better of him. Odin had not even let him say his piece, had not even tried to believe him, before turning to forbidden magic. "I fell into Thanos's clutches, All-Father," he snarled. "He means to gather the gems and destroy all nine realms for the pleasure of his lady. For this purpose, he sent me to retrieve the Tesseract. I did not wish to do it, but he was persuasive."

Frustratingly, Odin did not look surprised. "The mind-control, as your mortal believes. And what of him? What of the Man of Iron?"

"He has nothing to do with this."

"He has everything to do with this!" Odin shouted. His fury was such that it reminded Loki of that fateful day in the Bifrost chamber, when Thor had been banished. "Ever have your loves brought death onto the nine realms. It is the prophecy, Loki. You remember it, as do I. I will not have another Ragnarok happen, not after everything I have done to prevent it."

The anger and the panic fed something inside Loki, and his temper flared. "And in the process, you and others like you have taken everything from me. You would even take this, the knowledge that he is safe. I speak of Thanos, and you hide behind the words of an ancient Midgardian tale."

"They are not just words. Some things are fated to happen." Odin's eye was fierce and relentless. "They call him the Merchant of Death. He cannot create another Fenrir, or another Jormungandr, but he can bring down entire armies with a single blow. He has killed your brother once already. He will bring down the Tree itself if I let him."

Finally, realization dawned. "This is about Thor." Because of course, when was it not? Loki should have known better than to believe that little tidbit had been forgotten. Edith might have lived peacefully to the end of her days, but the All-Father was nothing if not capable of carrying a grudge.

"Your mortal bodies should have not been so easily destroyed," the All-Father said. "He was only a weak, Midgardian female. And yet, he felled the Thunderer."

Hysterical laughter bubbled in Loki's chest. "Never mind that he killed me, right?"

"I do not blame him, after the perversion you dragged him into!"

And of course, that part was also Loki's fault. Asgard's golden son could do no wrong, so naturally, Loki must have convinced him into it. Loki wanted to rage at the unfairness. In all honesty, he was almost inclined to let Odin see his memories. It would serve the All-Father right.

The problem was that Loki did not think Odin had a complete understanding of the immensity of the undertaking. Odin was powerful, yes, but he was also tired and aging, and Loki's memories could easily break his mind.

And then, Loki would be blame, and Thor would be king, and Thanos would strike. In all likelihood, Ragnarok would indeed come.

"You do not know what you speak of, All-Father," Loki said bleakly. "The magic will crush you."

"I will not be carrying its burden alone. Your mother has agreed to assist me with the spell."

Loki recoiled, tasting betrayal in his mouth. "What? Why?"

"The alternative was you and your Man of Iron being executed."

If it had been just him, Loki would have embraced the oblivion of death. But his soul mate's life was also at stake.

He breathed through his nose and did his best to control his temper. "And if I submit to this, you will leave him be?"

"Should it be proven that he has no ill intentions against Asgard, yes, I will leave him be."

It was the only chance Loki had. Even if Loki could imagine nothing more humiliating than to let Odin see his mind and soul, it was the only way Odin could ever believe him over Thor.

And now was a good time. With his magic so weakened, Loki could not manipulate the spell Odin would cast. Odin was probably relying on that, but in the end, he would regret it.

"Very well, All-Father," he said. "I agree to your terms. When do we start?"

Chapter Text

Contrary to popular belief, Odin loved both of his sons. He had not intended to. When he'd taken Loki from the icy waste of Jotunheims, he had only meant to guard the child and make sure he did not become a threat.

The problem had come after, when it had become obvious that Loki was quite frankly impossible not to love. He had been a mischievous child, but one full of intelligence and curiosity. Frigga had bonded to him almost immediately, and they had become even closer after Loki's interest in seidr had manifested.

And Loki had reminded Odin of himself, back when he had been only a boy. Sometimes, he had started thinking that Loki seemed like the child of his and Frigga's flesh, not Thor. It had scared him.

In the end, he had tried to do right by both his sons. He thought that he must have succeeded in Thor's case—despite his bersekr nature, Thor had grown up to be the perfect warrior of Asgard. But Loki... Loki had turned to the shadows, in a way Odin himself never truly had. And at one point, Odin wondered if there was not something fundamentally rotten in Loki's soul, something that would always lead them to the same result, no matter how much Odin tried to prevent the events of the past cycle.

He could see it now, feel the sad song of Yggdrasil, hear it start to crack. It was something that had not happened yet, but would most definitely come to pass if he did not do something drastic.

Thanos was a threat. Odin had not forgotten him. Thanos could very easily be the one meant to bring down the Tree.

But Loki was more powerful than even the Mad Titan. He probably didn't realize it yet, but no one else, not even Odin, could have survived that fall from the Bifrost.

It was part of the reason why Odin couldn't help but doubt Loki's word. He could not see Loki bending his knee to anyone, not even the Titan. But it was quite possible that the Bifrost fall had drained Loki up to the point that he had not been able to put up the resistance he normally would have. And of course, there was the fact that Loki had not reached the apex of his power, not like the Loki from the previous cycle—Odin's blood-brother.

Sometimes, Odin wished he did not have the memories from his past life. Sometimes, they were more of a hindrance than a help. He cursed whatever Midgardian seer had decided it was a good idea to write the story down on paper. If Odin had been able to keep it quiet, between himself, Frigga, Loki and whoever else had enough seidr to feel Yggdrasil that way—there were less people with such skill than one would have thought—things could have been quite different.

Bad enough that Laufey had decided to slaughter all the frost giant females that bore even the slightest resemblance to Angrboda. Bad enough that an assassin who had never been caught had managed to kill Iwaldi, the man who should have become Sigyn's father.

He didn't even want to think about Balder. Yet another son who had paid the price for Loki's treachery, and Odin's own mistakes.

It was, in the end, Balder who changed everything, as he always did. In the past cycle, he had died, but now, for some obscure reason, he had survived. And when Frigga came to him and told him this, Odin knew that the Norns were giving him a chance, a chance to finally get it right—for all his sons, not just one.

Thor. Loki. Balder. The three sons of Odin's heart, if not his body. Perhaps this was not hopeless. Perhaps Loki could still be turned away from his path of destruction. Now, they were at a crossroads. And Odin had to choose.

He didn't know if he chose right.

Loki was not wrongin being wary of the spell. Looking into the memories of a god, especially one such as Loki, was next to madness. The very nature of the spell was an insult, especially to a user of seidr, for whom their soul, their very core, was so important.

It was the only way.

Loki had only agreed to it because of the threat to the Man of Iron. He was already alarmingly attached to the deadly mortal. Odin wondered now, if he should have realized Loki's mortal spouse had been his soul mate, but he had let it go once he had retrieved Thor's spirit. Even if Thor didn't remember, that lifetime had left its mark, and Odin had been forced to do some urgent damage control.

The mortal lifetime of Loki and Thor. The worst thing Loki had ever done.

Odin still had no idea what Loki had been thinking in pursuing an incestuous relationship with Thor, and that was one thing he could not forgive Loki for. If not for the terms of the original punishment, he would have likely done something drastic upon Loki's return to Asgard. To see Loki betray Thor in such a manner had been almost too much to bear. He would have to witness it all over again, through Loki's perspective, but maybe it could not be helped.

Odin cared about Loki. But if Loki's perversion had reached a point where he could harm his brother that way, who knew what else he would do next? As sad as it was, the Destroyer and the attack on Jotunheim weren't as surprising as they should have been.

He had not known how to prepare Frigga for what they would see—he had not told her after their boys had returned from Midgard, and it had been difficult to reveal the full truth. When he had explained, her reaction had been... odd. "I suppose we shall see," she had said. She still loved her Loki, still saw the child they had raised. Odin wasn't sure if there was anything left of that child. If there wasn't... He had to consider a more drastic punishment.

Either way, he was relieved to have her here now, because her presence obviously helped Loki and thus made things easier for all of them. It was she who had prepared the groundwork for the spell, in her own quarters. Loki had seemed upset when the guards had brought him here, but she had swept up and taken his arms.

"Trust me, my Loki. I know this is hard, but you have to trust me on this."

Loki had not replied, but he had not tried to push her away either. Odin did not know if he was grateful for it. Frigga would simply be more hurt when she saw the darkness that lay inside Loki.

Loki's 'When do we start?' had actually been a good question, since he had one-thousand years' worth of memories, and the spell couldn't take Odin and Frigga through all of them. Odin had not known how to make a choice, so he had left it up to Frigga, who he knew was better at this than him.

"The spell will reveal to us Loki's strongest memories, the ones that form the basis of who he currently is," she now explained, although if it was Odin's benefit or Loki's was anyone's guess. "I have weaved heavy wards inside it. Should anything happen that could jeopardize any of us, the wards will bring us back."

She looked at the arrangement of runes, and suddenly, she seemed anxious. "But perhaps... Perhaps, this isn't such a good idea."

She was faltering. Why? Had Loki told her something to change her mind? If so, what, and when?

"Frigga? What is it?"

Frigga pressed her lips together. "I... I will try to find another way. Something that is less strenuous."

"The wards will protect the All-Father, Mother," Loki said, "especially with you there."

"It is not him that I am worried about, Loki." She sounded almost angry, and Odin suspected that if she hadn't been a queen, she would be crying. "I do not wish for you to relive these things. Once was quite enough."

"It is my sentence, is it not?" Loki whispered. "For Jotunheim, and Midgard, and the Man of Iron. It is fine, Mother. You were not wrong to put this together. It will be worth it, in the end."

Odin wasn't sure what to make of the conversation, but he was having doubts too. If there was a truth in all of this that he could not question, it was that Loki had suffered heavily after his fall from the Bifrost. The fact that his seidr was a mere shadow of what it had been was a clear proof.

Even now, a week after Thor and Loki's return to Asgard, he had only just recovered from his physical injuries. Eir had monitored his condition carefully and this was the earliest that she had decreed him to be ready to become involved with a spell of such magnitude. But even now, his powers had been through such a drain that they almost seemed wary to return. It was as if a part of Loki was still lost somewhere within the void.

Secretly, Odin preferred it that way, since it meant Loki was not as dangerous as before. But still, could he put his son through torture all over again, even to seek answers to his own more than justifiable questions? He needed to go through with this spell, but Loki... What would it mean to Loki?

But then, what about Thor? What about Baldur? No, Loki needed to be punished, and the full extent of his corruption could only be discovered this way. But Odin was not heartless, and he had no desire to break his son's mind, no matter how cruel and perverted that son might be.

"She is right," he said. "We will find another way, perhaps some deviation of the spell that will allow us to see his memories without him feeling it."

"You can't have it both ways, All-Father." Loki glowered at him, irritated. "If this is your way to back out of our deal..."

A sudden spark of something ignited in Odin's mind. The deal. The Man of Iron. The Mind Gem. How could he have forgotten?

He was not sure why Thor had left Loki's scepter with the human SHIELD, but Thor had never been good at assessing the power of such objects, and had failed to identify the Mind Gem for what it was. Interestingly enough, the Man of Iron had seemed immune to its hold.

Based on what Odin had seen of Anthony Stark, he would hazard a guess that the Man of Iron would not hesitate to jump to Loki's defense, especially if he believed there was a way to clear Loki's name. Yes, this was a good plan. The Mind Gem could be in Asgard, where it belonged, and Odin would be able to use it—and the Man of Iron—to keep the spell from going out of control.

"Wife, I leave for Midgard at once. It seems to me that I have failed to retrieve something from there."

Loki's eyes widened and he went very pale at Odin's words. "No... What? Why?"

"Your Man of Iron seeks us out. Let us see if he can assist us with our problem. After all... this is about him too, is it not?" There was a shadow in Loki's eye, one where Odin saw Ragnarok, and it made him add. "He will not be harmed, not unless he becomes a threat."

"Then why? Why bring him here?"

"For you. For all of us."

It was only much later, when Odin had at last made the preparations that he realized he had told Loki exactly the same thing Loki had said to him on the bridge. His own reply had been 'No, Loki," and it had ended in disaster. For a brief moment he wondered why he'd said that of all things, but then, he realized it didn't matter. It was the Man of Iron's reaction that did, and would shape whatever decision Odin would be forced to take.

Chapter Text

 Jane Foster was a lovely, incredibly clever woman. Unfortunately, she was also in love with the god of thunder, the guy Tony would have very eagerly turned into fertilizer—again.

Now, under different circumstances, Tony might have snarked at her for letting a man with biceps the size of his head blind her like that. But this was a classic case of stones and glass houses and Tony wasn't about to point fingers when he was still hung up over his own Norse god after a whole lifetime since their marriage.

So, no, Tony did not blame Jane. However, that didn't mean it didn't irritate him to hear her badmouth Loki.

"Look, I don't blame you guys for wanting to set the record straight," she said over pizza about four days into their science binge. "But isn't this going a little far? They're in Asgard. If there was mind-control, I'm sure they'll be able to tell."

"You're sure..." Tony repeated sarcastically. "And how exactly are you so sure? You have any personal experience with the Asgardian justice system?"

Jane set the pizza slice down with a huff. "They're good people. They value friendship and honor. And Thor loves his brother, I know he does."

Tony couldn't help a small burst of laughter. "Lady, you have no idea."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

Bruce gave Tony a look before he could put his foot in his mouth again. "Look, Jane, I know you like Thor, but the truth is we don't know that much about their culture, and neither do you. The only thing we have to go by is the old Norse myths and those aren't very encouraging. What little we have seen confirms that they're a monarchy and a warrior culture, which is reminiscent of the myths. If that's the case, they're more liable to treat Loki as guilty until proven innocent, and that's not okay. "

"I didn't say it was," Jane replied, but she deflated. Behind her back, Tony shot Bruce a thumbs up. Nice save.

Bruce rolled his eyes at him, and Tony already felt a little better about the whole conversation. He had been right to tell Bruce about the reincarnation thing. They hadn't spoken about Tony's epiphany over Bruce being his father—and hah, that was like something out of Star Wars—but when it came to Loki, Bruce seemed to believe him. If not for him and for JARVIS, Tony would have been losing his mind out of pure concern.

When he had suggested to reverse engineer the Tesseract, he'd known he was embarking into something that could take a long time. There were no shortcuts here, beyond what he could already get from the info in SHIELD's file. Jane's work had been a huge help, and even if most days, the two of them were at odds, Tony was glad he'd brought her in. (Yes, he could have stolen her notes from SHIELD—at least part of them, if not everything—but even before Vanko, he had made it his business to respect the work of others, and that hadn't changed.)

And yet, a week after Loki's departure, he felt like they hadn't made much headway. He wasn't planning on traveling to Asgard anytime soon. Just being able to send a message would be nice. Something, anything, that would help Loki, that would tell them, you've got the wrong guy.

Unfortunately, you couldn't call a cellphone if you didn't know the number, and the only thing they had to base their calculations on was the runes from the Bifrost site—which they had yet to properly interpret. And every time he closed his eyes, Tony kept seeing the image of Thomas's ghost, and of Loki, as he had been when he'd left with Thor.

He realized he'd fallen deep in thought when Bruce shook his shoulder. "Tony? Hey, Tony, did you hear what I said?"

"Uh..." Tony searched his mind for whatever Bruce had been talking about, but he came out blank. "Sorry, no."

Bruce gave him a look of disapproval worthy of Captain America himself. "Tony, when was the last time you slept?"

"Last night," Tony replied quickly. It was true... kind of. He'd collapsed in the kitchen when he'd gone to get another cup of coffee and had woken up to Pepper's hysterical screaming.

Just the memory made him wince. He had yet to talk to her about this whole thing. He owed her something—if not the truth, maybe a part of it—but what could he say? If he told her he was in love with someone else, she would think he had been cheating on her this whole time. And maybe he had been, but given the circumstances, Tony would say that he had done his best.

"Yeah, okay, I admit I haven't been sleeping well. Just... You know. Bad dreams."

Jane made a sound of understanding. "Oh. The battle. Right, I get it. After New Mexico, I couldn't sleep either."

Tony believed her and didn't want to belittle her own trial—he had seen the footage and knew it must have been quite hellish—so he didn't say anything even if the comparison made him want to grit his teeth. It was different. He was struggling with a lifetime's worth of loss and regret, plus the void, and Afghanistan, and doing right by Pepper. Most importantly, he was struggling with a deadline, and feeling like every second that passed was stealing the last chance he had to help Loki.

And Tony had hoped he could avoid at least a part of this stuff until he solved this mess with Loki, but it was not to be. Just as he reached for a slice of pizza—more to keep his mouth busy and Bruce off his back, since he wasn't really hungry—JARVIS said, "Sir, Miss Potts is approaching."

Panic welled in Tony's chest. "Tell her... Tell her, we're busy."

"Actually, JARVIS," Bruce offered, "Jane and I are going to take a break." He got up, already gesturing Jane toward the door of the lab. "Take care of things down here for me, will you?"

"Of course, Doctor Banner," JARVIS said.

Tony huffed. Traitors, both of them.

"I don't want to talk to Pepper," he mumbled as Bruce and Jane left.

"Sir, I'm afraid you must. I fear that at this rate, the strain on your relationship with Miss Potts will affect your work on the Tesseract project."

Tony's shoulders slumped. "Do you think I should tell her, JARV? About Edith?"

For a few moments, JARVIS was silent. It was something strikingly human, a sign of hesitation, which an AI shouldn't have shown. JARVIS's processing speed shouldn't have allowed for that. But JARVIS wasn't only a machine—he was Tony's friend too.

"Analysis on Miss Potts' belief system indicates that she would likely have a skeptical response to the idea of reincarnation. Given the additional circumstances following the Battle of New York and Mr. Odinson, she is unlikely to have a response as positive as Doctor Banner's."

Tony had already known that, but it was still hard to hear it from JARVIS. "So... No. Fair enough, JARV. I'll think of something." He paused. "Where's Pepper now?"

"She has just exited the car and is saying goodbye to Mr. Hogan."

"Right, okay." Maybe it was better not to meet with Pepper in the lab. He was using his secondary one for his work with Jane and Bruce, but he needed to focus on science when he was here, not remember what would undoubtedly be a disastrous conversation with Pepper. "Tell her to meet me in the penthouse."

"Of course, Sir."

He fiddled a little with some leftover work, taking his time to save every file, even if JARVIS could easily do it himself. Finally, when he couldn't stall any longer, he took the elevator back to his floor.

The first thing he saw was Pepper's abandoned heels. It was such a domestic thing—Pepper was always so impeccable and it was a continuous mystery to Tony how she could wear those kind of shoes for a whole day—and it made Tony ache with something unidentifiable.

Pepper was seated on the couch, looking out the now-fixed window. When she heard the sound of the elevator, she turned toward him with a small, beautiful smile. "Tony. Hey. JARVIS said you were coming up."

Her eyes were crinkling around the corner with strain. She was trying so hard to hide her concern and frustration, but their last argument was still fresh in both their minds. She had never quite approved of Iron Man, and the nuclear bomb thing had made it worse. His descent into inexplicable behavior had only put additional pressure on her.

He had not told her about his project to contact Asgard. He had told Jane, but not Pepper. What did that say about them?

"Hey, Pep," he greeted her. "You look tired."

She did. He always did that, always had. In their previous lives, she had almost bled out for him, and now was no different. Pepper was not Alan, not anymore, but she was still bleeding out, because Tony couldn't bring himself to let go.

JARVIS and Bruce were right. He had to stop this. No matter what happened with Loki, he would never love Pepper the way she deserved to be loved.

It was easier said than done, and Tony tried to cover his discomfort like he always did. "Drink?"

He was already heading to the bar, but he saw Pepper nod. "Martini," she said. "Very dry. Three olives."

It was the same drink she had asked for that night, the night of their dance, an eternity ago. Dressed in that beautiful blue dress, she had been a vision, and after everything had come crashing down around him, he had clung to her. But she had never been meant for him.

And maybe she knew that too, because she finally left the couch and came to the bar. She took his hands before he could finish fixing her drink, and it was only then that Tony realized he was shaking. "Tony, what are you doing?" she asked, her voice so soft it was barely audible. "What are we doing?"

Tony couldn't help it. He broke down. "I'm sorry, Pep. I'm so sorry. I just... I can't..."

He tried to explain, but instead, he ended up hugging her awkwardly over the bar. It wasn't something he usually did, but she went along with it. As ever, Pepper let him hold her, caressing his hair, seeming completely comfortable even if he hadn't showered properly in ages.

She had known, he realized. But then, of course she had. Tony might be a genius, but when it came to emotions, he really didn't handle things well. Pepper had always done that for him, so of course she'd expected this outcome.

"We tried," she said when they finally broke away. "We gave it our best shot. It just wasn't meant to be."

How was it that even now, Pepper was the one fixing things? She deserved better than this. She deserved an explanation.

But what could he say? Remember the Norse god who attacked the Tower and almost destroyed New York? Yes, well, turns out we were married in my past life and I'm still in love with him. Yeah, that would go over well.

"Pepper, I... There's a lot of stuff going on you don't know, things I haven't told you." He rubbed his eyes, wincing at the sting. "It's just... It's complicated."

"Is this about Thomas?"

It was a good thing Tony had abandoned the idea of a drink, because he would have certainly dropped it had he held something then. "W-What? How..."

"You talk in your sleep." Pepper smiled, and it was Alan McMichael's sad twist of lips. "Don't look so scared, Tony. I'm not angry."

It would have been easier if she had been furious with him, if she had raged and called him names and thrown things at him. But Pepper only raged when he was hurting himself, not others. She only ever got truly angry when she saw him hurt.

Still, even with Pepper's unending patience with his bullshit, there was no way she wouldn't be at least hurt if she believed he had cheated on her. Pepper answered his question without him having to ask it. "JARVIS keeps your secrets, just like he does mine. I asked him who Thomas was. I suppose it wasn't a very good idea, but I was upset, and I knew JARVIS would have some sort of answer. He told me that he couldn't answer that question, but that you would never betray me."

JARVIS. Of course. Maybe Tony should have been upset that JARVIS hadn't mentioned it before, but he was too relieved. He wondered now what JARVIS had been thinking in the lab, when he'd told Tony Pepper was unlikely to take the reincarnation thing well. He would have to ask later, when they were alone.

For the moment, even with JARVIS's help, Tony still had Pepper to worry about. "Can you tell me, Tony? Can you tell me now?" Pepper squeezed his hand. "It's okay, you know. If you're gay. You don't have to worry about the company. I'll find a way to spin it properly."

Tony almost laughed. If only his problem had been something as trivial as sexual orientation. "No, Pep, it's not like that. Thomas..." He thought about everything Pepper had done for him, pre and post Iron Man. He though about Alan, and the sad, sad smile Pepper and Alan shared. This was a risk, but he owed her, damn it. "Thomas was my husband."

Pepper went white. Undoubtedly, she caught onto the 'was' part, and maybe something in Tony's expression told her that it hadn't been divorce that had separated them. "How? When? What happened?"

He knew what she was thinking. How could Tony Stark marry a man without it ever hitting the press? Even if it had been very discreet, someone would have found out.

Tony opened his mouth to finally spill the beans, but he never got the chance to say anything. The alarms of the Tower started blaring, and JARVIS's guns came down from the walls. Apparently, Tony's lack of self-preservation during his meeting with Loki—and his instructions for JARVIS to not hurt Loki in any way—would not apply here. "Unidentified intruder, please state your name."

Even without JARVIS's automated weapon system zeroing in on the intruder, Tony would have still seen him with ease. The guy was clearly Asgardian—like Thor, he was rocking the mother's drapes look, although his garb was of the gold variety—or if not, some other kind of alien. Amusingly, he had an eyepatch—again, gold, which, what the hell?—which reminded Tony of Fury. Assuming Asgardians aged the same way humans did and judging by the white hair and the lines on his face, he was also far older than Thor. The only visible weapon was a large spear—gold, of course—but Tony had seen Loki with a spear, and he would eat his suit if that wasn't some sort of version of the Glowstick of Destiny.

He had also come out of nowhere, and it pissed Tony off, because he and Pepper had been having a moment here. "Who the hell are you?" he snapped.

The man in gold watched JARVIS's guns with interest. "Impressive display, Mr. Stark, but I assure you, one that is not necessary."

Tony went around the bar and placed himself in front of Pepper, blocking the man's view of her. He didn't have the bracelets or the suit, but he would be damned if he let this guy hurt her. "I'll be the judge of that, thank you very much. Introductions, please, since you seem to know my name, but I don't know yours."

As Tony finished the phrase, the elevator opened and Bruce came barreling out. His eyes had a tell-tale rim of green. He still had the Other Guy under control, but that wasn't going to be the case if this guy didn't start talking.

The new arrival didn't seem fazed, neither by Tony's threats or Bruce's arrival. "Certainly, Mr. Stark. I am Odin All-Father. You might be more familiar with me as Thor and Loki's father, the king of Asgard. And I suppose... I am your father-in-law."

Star Wars, the Tony Stark version, revisited. Really, Tony should have been more surprised than he was.

Pepper's admittedly remarkable calm finally cracked. "Wait, what?"

Chapter Text

 It didn't take like for Tony to decide he didn't like the great gold cyclops in the sky. It wasn't necessarily something Odin did—just a general feeling. He carried the same 'you're all peons' air Loki had exhibited in Stuttgart, but with him, it was more pronounced and, in Tony's humble opinion, actually genuine.

Nevertheless, Tony told JARVIS to put the guns away. He had no evidence this was actually Odin, but he couldn't see why a random person would want to come see him and claim he was the King of Asgard. Further, only a handful of people could possibly know about him and Loki, and Odin was likely one of them. Tony still was not sure how Thor and Loki had ended up on Earth, but after hearing Jane's story of how she'd met Thor, he suspected it must have been some sort of creative punishment.

At any rate, Tony decided to summon his manners and treat Odin as suited his station, if only for Loki's sake. Fortunately, that meant he couldn't yet address any of Pepper's more than justifiable questions, but it could not be helped.

Tony made the introductions, which turned out to be quite useless, since the legends about Heimdall the voyeur were apparently true and Odin knew who they all were. Deciding to get to the matter at hand, Tony said, "Not that I'm not honored by the visit and all, but why exactly are you here..."

"Your Majesty," Bruce whispered in his ear, and Tony quickly repeated it. Yeah, okay so manners weren’t exactly his strong suit.

"Well, Man of Iron, you have been trying to contact Asgard in order to speak to me on my son's behalf, have you not? I would expect you to be pleased by this development."

Tony narrowed his eyes at Odin. Okay, so a king Odin might be, but Tony also recognized a bullshitter when he saw one. "And I am pleased, but I didn't expect it to be this easy. Also, I doubt the King of Asgard would drop by just to tell me he already knows what I have to say."

"That is correct, Man of Iron."

The conversation briefly came to a halt when Jane finally made her appearance. It seemed JARVIS had finally deemed the situation safe enough to allow her to come to the penthouse.

Tony cleared his throat and tried the introduction thing again, more for Jane's benefit than for Odin's. "Your Majesty, this is Doctor Jane Foster. Jane, His Majesty, Odin All-Father."

He half-feared that Jane would dissolve into enthusiastic clapping over meeting her beau's dad, but he should have known better. She was, in fact, far more skilled at handling the situation than he was. "It's an honor, Your Majesty," she said. "Thor has told me so much about you and your world."

Odin hummed and didn't look very interested. "Did he? We did not speak much of his stay on Midgard."

Tony suppressed a wince—that was the Asgardian version of 'he didn't tell me anything about you', although if that was true or not was anyone's guess. Jane's face fell, and Tony quickly intervened, to help her at least a little. "I'm assuming you're aware Jane, Bruce and I have been working on the Tesseract."

"Quite right, Mr. Stark, and it would be preferable if you ceased your efforts. Midgard is not prepared for such power."

"With all due respect, Your Majesty," Tony replied, drawling out the respectful address probably more than was indicated under the circumstances, "you can't exactly tell us what we can and cannot study."

He expected Odin to snap back at him, maybe say something along the line of "shut up, puny mortal." The Asgardian just looked intrigued. "I suppose you are correct, Mr. Stark. At any rate, that is not the reason for my visit. The Tesseract was left here for many centuries, and I am not surprised that you mortals would want to make use of the information you have gained from its study. I will not begrudge you that."

"Really?" Jane asked, sounding shocked. Tony empathized. That was entirely different from what Odin had been saying earlier.

Odin nodded. "There are more important matters that bring me here. I have come to fetch two things to Asgard. The Mind Gem, and yourself, Mr. Stark."

Predictably, no one took that well. Bruce was starting to look a little green again, and Pepper, who had been silent until now, had her "I'm-the-CEO-don't-fuck-with-me" face on. "Your Majesty, Mr. Stark is a person, not a thing that can be fetched."

Odin ignored her. "Mr. Stark, while I appreciate your friends' concern, I would prefer that we finish this discussion in private."

Tony took one look at Odin and decided that he'd pressed his luck more than enough. He couldn't quite figure out Odin's game. He had practically blurted out that Tony had been married to Loki in front of Pepper—which, okay, didn't really matter in the long run, since Tony would have told her anyway—but now he was insisting on secrecy. Best to play along until he figured it out. "Yeah, okay. Just, give us a moment, guys, will you?"

Bruce didn't look happy at all. "Tony..."

"It's fine, Brucey. JARVIS will be here anyway."

He also shot Pepper a pleading look, and Pepper glared back at him—the "We will have words, Mr. Stark" expression. Yikes, that was scarier than the great gold cyclops in the sky. Tony definitely wasn't looking forward to that conversation.

Fortunately, everyone went along with the request. It was only when they left that Odin spoke again. "Mr. Stark, I will be blunt. Upon my sons' return to Asgard, it did indeed become obvious to me that Loki was coerced into attacking Midgard and attempting to seize the Tesseract. However, his position in Asgard is still tenuous."

"Because of the New Mexico incident," Tony guessed. "The... Destroyer."

"Among other things, yes." Odin looked approving, which quite frankly disturbed Tony. "My queen and I believe there is only one way to ensure Loki's safety on Asgard, and that is by accessing Loki's memories."

"Okay, why do I have the feeling it's more complicated than that?"

"The spell that would allow us to do this comes with some risks. It would involve him reliving the memories in question, which would not be wise given the circumstances."

Yeah, Tony was getting that message loud and clear. Whoever had 'coerced' Loki into the attack was clearly a nasty piece of work. Tony wanted to ask about it, but for the moment, Loki was the immediate priority.

"As such," Odin continued, "since Loki has conveniently delivered the Mind Gem to Midgard, I have decided to retrieve it and use it in the spell."

Tony couldn't believe his ears. Even if he hadn't put too much faith in Asgardian justice, he hadn't expected that. "Oh, hell no! You want to put the whammy on him again? You can't be serious!"

"The Gem can be used in many ways, Mr. Stark. In this case, it would protect my son's mind, not enslave it."

"You're telling me that you, the omnipotent All-Daddy, don't have another method to clarify the situation that practically brain-washing the kid who already went through God knows how much trauma?"

"It is not about power or ability, Mr. Stark. I'm sure you of all people would understand the concepts of deadline and duty. Loki is my son, and I care about him, but I am also a king, and I must do what is right for my people. Asgard does not trust Loki, and thus, I must find a method that would prove one way or another where Loki stands."

"You mean you don't trust Loki. You should say it, you know. Since we're being blunt and all."

"Indeed, I do not, and to be perfectly honest, I do not trust you, Mr. Stark."

Odin suddenly cut himself off, and it gave Tony the impression that the little tidbit was perhaps one of the few genuine things Odin had said in the whole conversation. "Oh?"

Odin sighed, obviously resigning himself to having to provide a reply. "In a different life, you killed my son. It is not an easy thing for me to forget."

Right. Thor's father. That had sort of slipped Tony's mind. Maybe it hadn't been such a good idea to tell Bruce to go.

Tony's nostrils flared. Well fuck that. Clearly, the All-Daddy knew the whole story of Crimson Peak, and the one conclusion he had drawn was that boo-hoo, Edith had killed his precious golden boy. "Did you somehow miss that he tried to kill me first, after killing your other son?"

Odin pivoted on his heel far too quickly for a man his age. He looked out the window, taking deep breaths. When he turned toward Tony again, he asked, "Tell me, Mr. Stark, why are you still loyal to Loki? He is guilty of staging his wife's murder as well, is he not?"

Tony had no intention of talking about his emotions with Odin. He would never admit it, but he had found a version of Fury he liked even less than Fury himself. "That's none of your business, All-Daddy."

"You will find that it is." Odin waved a hand. "In the end, it matters not. SHIELD will return the Mind Gem. It is not theirs to keep and having it here is too dangerous. I would have retrieved it even if I hadn't needed it for the spell. But here is where you come in, Mr. Stark. You are conveniently immune to the Mind Gem's effects. Despite being mortal, you can participate in the spell without being harmed by it. You are, in fact, probably one of the few people on Midgard who could wield the spear without being affected by it, although you will be grateful to learn that it will not be necessary for the purpose of this spell."

"What do you want me to do then?" Tony's mouth went dry. "Why do you want me to come along?"

"I want you to be there for Loki. This spell... It will not be easy for him."

There was more to it than that. Tony knew it, just like he had known that the Ten Rings would never free him even if he did build them the Jericho missile.

Odin hadn't come here just out of the goodness of his heart. If Tony had been just Loki's random human squeeze—albeit from a different life—Odin would have just treated him like he had treated Jane. For some reason, he was different.

It was a horrible idea to trust this Asgardian version of Obie. But what choice did Tony have? If he didn't agree, he would always ask himself if he could had helped Loki by going. And besides, hadn't that been what he'd truly wanted when he'd started his work with the Tesseract?

"Okay, All-Daddy. I'll go with you. For Loki."

"Excellent. I'm sure Loki will be happy to see you."

"Considering the last time we spoke he threw me out the window, I very much doubt that," Tony muttered, just because he wanted to say something and not let Odin have the last word.

As it turned out, he needn't have worried about that, because that was when the elevator dinged open again and out came Captain Spangles—well, Steve Rogers, since for once, he wasn't wearing his eyesore of a suit. He did, however, have the shield, and his stance screamed protectiveness.

"Your Majesty, on behalf of the United States of America, I welcome you to Earth. Now please, step away from Mr. Stark."

Chapter Text

 When Steve Rogers had opened his eyes to the sight of a room with familiar-looking furniture and the sound of a ball game he had already heard once before, he had known he was in big trouble. His first thought was naturally that he'd been captured by Hydra. The truth was not much better. Asleep. For decades. Everyone he knew was dead and gone—with the exception of Peggy, who was so old Steve hadn't had the courage to go see her.

A small part of him had been relieved when Fury had come to him with a mission—before he had realized that it was about the Tesseract, a nightmare reemerging from the past. And then, there was an even bigger mess, with the Chitauri, and the invasion, and the Avengers—the team he was supposed to lead, like he had once led the Commandos.

It would have been easier if anyone on the team had actually liked him.

He and Stark had rubbed each other wrong from the beginning. Thinking back, it was at least partially because Tony was so much like Howard, which was unfortunate for two reasons. By the end of the war, Steve had come to respect Howard and even like him to the point of calling the man a friend, but he knew that Stark was the type of person better taken in small doses. Their personalities had often been at odds, and while the war had swept aside those petty differences between Steve and Howard, Steve hadn't had the chance to do that with Howard's son.

Second of all, Tony was perhaps the clearest illustration of how lost Steve was in the future. Everything about him—from his technology, to his personality—clashed with what Steve had known. And being Howard's son oh-so-conveniently pointed out that Steve had slept through an entire generation.

So, yeah, Steve had lost his temper and had said some things he'd regretted—and then Tony had gone and done exactly what Steve had told him he would never do, and had thus made Steve feel even worse about it. He had always prided himself on being fair, but in shouting unfounded accusations at Stark, he'd acted exactly like what he'd never wanted to be—a bully.

After Loki's return to Asgard, he'd kept thinking about it, and had wanted to drop by Stark Tower to apologize. But whenever he called, JARVIS—and it still befuddled Steve to talk to a computer that acted like a person—claimed his creator was busy and could not speak to him.

He had resigned himself to the fact that he might never be able to fix his blunder—although to be fair, Stark had given as good as he'd gotten, so there was that. Still, Steve was nothing if not stubborn, which was why that day he was sitting in a coffee shop right across from Stark Tower when his cellphone rang.

It was, much to his surprise, JARVIS. "Captain," the AI said without preamble, "I am detecting your presence in the proximity of Stark Tower. Mr. Stark would require your assistance with a potentially hostile presence."

Steve didn't hesitate. He left a bill on the table, grabbed his stuff—thank God he never went anywhere without his shield since the invasion—and ran.

JARVIS put him up to speed as he headed to the Tower. Apparently, Thor's father had showed up and wanted to take Stark with him back to Asgard. JARVIS was vague over the king's reasons for this, but he clearly wasn't happy with the idea at all. Steve had a lot of questions—such as why JARVIS hadn't called Bruce, who was in the Tower, for help—but he didn't have time to ask them, so instead he trusted JARVIS's assessment and went up to Tony's penthouse. He had gone on missions with less reliable information. If nothing else, Steve was certain the AI had his creator's best interests at heart.

Tony's expression when he saw him was priceless. "Spangles, what are you doing here?"

"I'm here as a representative of the United States, of course," Steve answered. Better not to mention JARVIS where the Asgardian could hear.

Tony stared at him, but a glint of amusement shone in his eye. "Sure thing, Cap. Well, you know what they say, mi casa es su casa. And oh, I totally forgot, All-Daddy. Drink?"

Odin All-Father reminded Steve very much of Fury, and not just because of the eyepatch. As much as Steve hated to admit it, Tony had been completely right when he'd described Fury on the Helicarrier as the spy. There were so many lies and secrets spinning around Fury that Steve sometimes felt he couldn't breathe.

He supposed he shouldn't be surprised the king of Asgard was the same.

Still, one thing was clear—Steve's presence had managed to irritate him, another point in Steve's favor. Steve's claim of diplomacy was obviously a lie, and it was likely they all knew it, but Steve was glad he had come in when he had, even if he wasn't entirely certain what he had interrupted.

He wasn't really surprised when the rest of the Avengers showed up a while later. JARVIS was nothing if not efficient.

Tony looked increasingly amused, but welcomed them all with an attitude of casual ease that belied the danger he was clearly in. Steve would have been frustrated with him, but he was quickly growing to learn that it was just how Tony was. And in truth, Steve wasn't all that different. After all, he'd gotten in countless fights when he'd been nothing more than an asthmatic kid from Brooklyn. Later, he had weeded through hordes of Hydra soldiers armed with a shield (which hadn't even been the vibranium version, originally). Yeah, he could not exactly blame anyone for recklessness.

Natasha's cool head balanced Tony's extravagance out, though, and Steve felt a pang upon looking at her. She was a secret agent and a spy, like Fury, but she reminded Steve of Peggy so much it hurt.

Predictably, Clint was silent. Steve had not known him prior to the Battle of New York, but that day, he'd gotten the impression that Clint might have once been a little like Tony—reckless and always with something to say. Coulson's death had him harder than it had anyone else.

When Bruce showed up again, he stuck close to Tony, and Steve was glad to see it. Having the sometimes-Hulk as a friend definitely came in handy for Tony.

Odin hadn't spoken at all since Steve had come in, and it was only after Bruce's arrival that he finally broke his silence. "Avengers. I am pleased to meet my son's shield-brothers. You are indeed warriors worthy of Midgard."

"Thank you, Your Majesty," Steve answered. "We appreciate your words, and we are honored to count Thor as one of us."

That sounded about right. The USO tours hadn't really prepared Steve for speeches to royalty. In fact, he found that he preferred talking to the Hulk. Smash was so much easier.

He was relieved when Tony stepped in with his usual grace—or lack of thereof. "So, here's the deal, guys. The All-Daddy is here to take back the Glowstick of Destiny, plus yours truly as a bonus. Turns out Loki was mind-controlled too, although the All-Daddy hasn't shared the identity of the big bad with the class just yet. Anyway, he wants to use the Glowstick to put another whammy on old Reindeer Games, presumably to figure out what the hell he was thinking when he tried to kill Point Break."

"Wait, Loki was mind-controlled?" Barton. "That... No, that's not possible."

Steve felt awful for the archer. He knew Barton was struggling with what he'd done while under Loki's control, and Natasha—and Steve, on occasion—constantly told him that it had not been his fault, that the blood of the dead SHIELD agents—and Coulson's blood—was on Loki's hands, not his own. To find out now that Loki was about as responsible as he was... Yeah, that would not go over well.

"Sorry, Legolas," Tony said, "but it's true. I figured it out shortly after they left. It's all in JARVIS's surveillance files. His eye color changed after the Hulk used him to redecorate my living room."

Barton said nothing. Undoubtedly, he would have, but they were all very much aware of Odin's presence in the room. Natasha brushed against him slightly, although she did it so discreetly Steve didn't think anyone else saw. Steve didn't really know if it helped, but it definitely didn't hurt.

She was the one who addressed Tony's not-so-discreet jab at the other potential villain in the picture, although she only did so after shooting Tony one of her patented stares that counted as a Black Widow glare. "If Loki is not the culprit, who is?"

"He is called Thanos," Odin replied, "and on Asgard, he is known as the Mad Titan. He worships death itself, and he intends to gather artifacts such as the Tesseract to assist him in destroying the nine realms. He is a creature that only understands destruction, impossible to reason with and impossible to kill."

"Great." Tony threw his hands up, all amusement completely gone. Perhaps it had never been there at all. "That's just great. Shouldn't we be worried that he'll attack us again?"

"Thanos is trapped in a different plane of existence, Starkson. It is why he needed the Tesseract to come here. He will undoubtedly attempt another attack, but it will not be now. With the Chitauri gone, he will need other puppets to use."

"And even knowing that Loki was just a puppet, you still want to do the spell thing on him?"

There was something in Tony's voice, something Steve couldn't quite put his finger on. Natasha could, though, because her eyes snapped to Tony. But it was Barton who asked the question on everyone's lips. "Stark, why are you so concerned about him anyway? Why do they want you?"

Barton couldn't hold back his resentment and suspicion, and Steve didn't blame him. They still remembered that after the invasion, Tony had actually given Loki a drink. If Tony himself was to be believed, he had not known Loki was mind-controlled at the time. They would have suspected him of being under Loki's power if not for the fact that all the injuries he'd earned in the Chitauri attack would have easily snapped him out of it.

"Turns out I'm immune to the Glowstick," Tony said after a long pause.

Natasha arched a brow. "Yes, and? I doubt they need you specifically just because of that."

Odin was conspicuously silent, and Bruce was fidgeting in discomfort. Clearly, he knew the reason, and whatever it was, it was bad.

Tony took a big gulp of his drink, like he was bracing himself for something. "Loki and I knew each other from before," he said at last, "before he looked like an evil alien overlord bent on mass destruction."

Steve didn't immediately understand what that meant. Where could Tony have met Loki prior to the Battle of New York? Surely, if Loki had popped up somewhere, SHIELD would have known, right?

Barton figured it out—although Natasha probably did too, she just didn't say it."Oh, for fuck's sake, Stark! I knew you were a manwhore, but I thought even you had standards."

"Hey!" Tony spluttered. "I'll have you know Loki is a prince. Also, he was probably the best sex I've ever had. I don't regret a second of it."

Natasha groaned. "Jesus, Stark... TMI."

"Don't bring up my sex life if you don't want to hear about it. It's a rule, Red."

"Does Pepper know?" Natasha snapped back. "I'm sure she would love to hear what you just shared with us."

Silence fell, and Steve wished Natasha hadn't said anything. She was usually better at keeping her calm, but the knowledge that Stark had slept with Coulson's murderer didn't sit well with any of them. Even the revelation that Loki had been mind-controlled—which had yet to be proven despite Tony's claims—didn't really help with that. But Pepper was a low blow, like mentioning Bucky would have been for Steve.

Stark seemed to shut down, like one of his machines. "She knows most of it, and what she doesn't is none of your business."

"I take it the Lady Potts will not have an issue with your departure?" Odin asked.

"Jesus..." Tony rubbed his eyes. "I'll... I'll talk to her. I'll have to think about what to do with Stark Industries. God only knows how long I'll be gone. Need to think of JARVIS and the suits..."

Tony trailed off, mumbling to himself as he retrieved a tablet, apparently already distracted from Natasha's Pepper comment. For the first time, Steve felt grateful toward Odin, although he doubted the All-Father had meant to be helpful in any way.

With Barton, it was not so easy. "So let me get this straight... You want Stark to come on some sort of... conjugal visit for Loki?"

"I suppose that would be an accurate enough interpretation," Odin replied. "Loki will require Mr. Stark's presence and support."

"Surely there has to be someone else," Steve said. "I mean, even if he and Tony know each other, it must have been err.... casual." Otherwise, Tony could have never kept it quiet, not with how blatantly everything about his lifestyle was always exposed to the press. "Loki is what... thousands of years old? Doesn't he have... I don't know, other lovers? Friends?"

Tony twitched slightly, the only sign that he was still paying attention. "It has to be Mr. Stark," Odin said. "This matter is not under debate. He has already agreed, and it is not something you can change, Steve Rogers."

Yeah, okay, fair enough. If Tony had chosen this for himself, Steve could respect that.

But that didn't mean Tony had to be alone in this. Steve was done losing people. If Odin thought he could just come here and take Tony with a half-assed excuse about helping Loki, he had another think coming.

"Well, then, I insist on coming with him."

Tony's gaze shot back up, fixing on Steve. "Cap, you can't be serious. You have no idea what you're getting yourself into."

"I'm helping a friend," Steve replied with a shrug. "That's all I need to know."

There was something strange on Tony's face, something Steve hadn't seen before—or he had, but in a different way. Steve couldn't read him like Natasha did, and even if he had wanted to try, Odin had to intervene before he could do so.

"I'm afraid that won't be possible, Captain. Mortals are not allowed in the Golden Realm. The Man of Iron will be a special exception."

Oh, no, he wasn't getting away with that. "Well, that's fine, because I'm not exactly mortal. I took a serum that practically keeps me from aging, along with giving me my other skills, speed, strength, and so on and so forth. It kept alive for the past seventy years."

He was full of shit, since he wasn't exactly sure if the serum had slowed down his aging, or it had been the ice all along. But the thing about Steve, something most people didn't realize because of the whole Captain America persona, was that he was really bad at being told what to do. That image most people had of him being a perfect soldier? Yeah, totally a lie.

Steve had gone off on his own to save Bucky when Captain America had only been a dancing monkey. He'd falsified enlistment forms, and when that hadn't worked, he'd taken the serum. Steve was all about doing what he knew was right, and if an authority figure had a problem with it... Well, that was too damn bad.

"It's a good idea," Natasha offered. "We need a SHIELD representative to monitor developments in Asgard, one who isn't compromised."

Tony ignored the jab at him. "Steve, come on. Reconsider."

It was the first time Tony had ever called him by his name, and just like that, Steve knew he'd done the right thing. "I survived waking up in one entirely different world," he said. "How bad could seeing a different one be?"

"Very well, Captain," Odin said. "It is a fair compromise. I can understand why SHIELD would want to know what is happening, considering that Asgard will also be confiscating Loki's scepter."

"Your Majesty, we haven't actually spoken about that," Natasha offered, although judging by her expression, she knew it was pointless to protest.

Odin waved a hand. "I will discuss it later with the Man of Fury. For the moment, I believe we are done here. I have one more request, Lady Widow. I wish to see the man they call the Son of Coul."

Clint went completely rigid. "Coulson is dead. Your pride and joy stabbed him in the back."

"I assure you, the Son of Coul is very much alive." Odin almost looked amused. "Had it not been so, I would not have mentioned it. The honored dead are for the Valkyries."

Steve felt like he'd been hit, straight in the solar plexus. His chest hurt, like it used to during his asthma attacks. He had barely known Coulson, but Clint, Natasha and even Tony were different.

Barton's voice was cold as ice when he asked, "Nat?"

"He's in critical condition, Clint," Natasha replied, her voice soft, barely audible even to Steve's serum-enhanced hearing. "He flat-lined several times. They don't think he's going to make it."

Barton didn't reply. He simply left the room, taking the elevator down toward the ground level. Natasha was clearly upset—her face was even blanker than usual—but she didn't try to follow him.

"I will speak with Director Fury about this, but I cannot guarantee a positive response," she said. "Agent Coulson truly is in critical condition. I'm not sure he would be up for visits."

"It would not be a visit of courtesy, Lady Widow," Odin replied. "The loss of the Son of Coul would be a great blow for Midgard. I merely seek to remedy that."

"Wait, you can help him?" Tony asked. "Why?"

"As ever, Man of Iron, I act in the interest of Asgard and all the nine realms. Now, Lady Widow, can I rely on you to proceed with this task posthaste?"

Natasha didn't hesitate. "Of course, Your Majesty. In fact, if you'll follow me, I'm certain something can be arranged right away."

Of course she had some sort of communicator on her. Of course Fury already knew everything they had talked about. Steve should have remembered that, since if he'd been wearing his uniform, he'd have likely carried similar equipment.

"Excellent," Odin said. "Man of Iron, I will leave you to your preparations. We will discuss the matter of Loki after my return."

Tony nodded, and his silence was more jarring than anything he could have said. Steve half-wanted to go with them, but one look at Tony told him to stay.

Technically speaking, Tony didn't necessarily need him—he had Bruce here, and Pepper would likely come over if she wasn't already in the Tower. With Coulson, though, he would just be in the way. He would definitely want to see the SHIELD agent later if Odin did keep his promise, but now was for people like Nat and Clint, people who had truly known him.

And Steve had a feeling there were a lot of things Tony hadn't said while Clint and Natasha had been here.

Even after they were gone, Tony didn't immediately speak. It was JARVIS who broke the silence. "Agent Romanov, Agent Barton and Odin All-Father have left the Tower, Sir. All foreign surveillance equipment, including the one in Captain Rogers' phone, has been disabled."

"Good work, JARV." Tony grunted. "Fuck, that was awful. I think I'm going to start having nightmares about eyepatches."

"Sir, if I made an error in judgment in notifying the Avengers..."

"No, JARV, you did good. Cap here was a nice touch."

"Why didn't you call me back, JARVIS?" Bruce asked, sounding a little hurt. "You know I care about Tony as much as you do."

"Yes, Doctor Banner, I realize this. As Sir returns the sentiment, my protocols state that, if there is a situation of potential conflict, you should be kept as safe as other inhabitants of the Tower. Further, the All-Father's intentions were unclear, but adding the element of the Hulk in the equation would have definitely turned the situation violent."

"Yeah, okay, I can't argue with that." Bruce's shoulders slumped. "I just hate this."

"I know you do, Brucey." He nudged Bruce's shoulder with his own. "But you understand why I have to go, right?"

Bruce rubbed his eyes. "Probably better than I should. Certainly feels like I'm not doing it for the first time."

Tony smiled at that, although Steve couldn't really make sense of the statement. "Thanks, Brucey. Go on. Go talk to Jane. Do some yoga. Grab some weed. Relax. You look like you need it. You can worry about my stupidity later."

Bruce snorted, but complied. And just like that, Steve and Tony were alone—well, save for JARVIS. Oddly, after today, Steve found that he didn't really mind JARVIS's silent presence.

They ended up seated together on Tony's couch, a ridiculous leather thing that probably cost more than Steve's apartment. "So, Cap... I'm not going to try to change your mind again. I realize that I've obviously underestimated your stubbornness. But before you do this, you have to know the whole she-bang. JARV, pull up the file I wrote for Bruce. Code name: Crimson Tears."

"Crimson Tears?" Steve repeated.

"I know, I'm such a poet." Tony snorted. "Don't judge me, Cap. I was in a bit of a mood when I started it."

The air was soon dancing with light as JARVIS projected the file Tony had mentioned. Steve's creative soul admired how beautiful it all looked, but he didn't have the time to focus on the artistry of it, because he was soon drawn in by the info in the file. Tony didn't speak at all, just let Steve read, but if half of what was there was correct, Steve couldn't blame him.

When Steve finally finished, his mind was whirling. "You married Loki? In a different life?"

"Yeah, I know it sounds crazy, but it's true. I've always had these incomprehensible flashes—I couldn't make much of it until New York. That was when I remembered, and I had JARV dig up some extra info too." Tony laughed. "Maybe it's a bit morbid, given that my own death certificate is there... kind of. But all things considered, I think I'm allowed a little leeway here."

Steve had been born and raised a Christian. He hadn't really given much thought to the concept of reincarnation.

Maybe under different circumstances, he wouldn't have put much stock into it, but after today... Well, it was kind of hard to deny it. Odin would have never wanted to take Tony to Asgard for something as trivial as a brief love affair, but a marriage, even a short-lived one, was different.

"I believe you, Tony," he said. "I believe you have your reasons for your decisions. I don't really understand this whole reincarnation thing, and I definitely don't have your perspective on what happened then, but I have your back."

That weird look drifted onto Tony's face again. "Thanks, Steve," he whispered. "I appreciate that. I get the feeling that I'll need the help."

Chapter Text

 Phil Coulson was a rarity at SHIELD. Other high-ranking agents, like Hill or Sitwell, were respected, but not really well-liked. Not so with Coulson. Despite his unassuming exterior, he was perhaps among the few people at SHIELD that most agents would not have endless complaints about.

But none of these people knew Coulson—or rather, Phil—like Clint Barton did.

Clint hadn't always been a SHIELD agent. Once, he'd been a circus performer with a freakish talent to always hit his mark and who hung around the wrong crowd. Phil had seen more, and had given Clint the chance to get himself out of the muck.

Most days, Clint was still dubious on whether or not he had succeeded. He would probably never be the perfect straight-laced agent. He was too smart-mouthed and too set in his own ways. (After all, what kind of sniper stubbornly held onto the idea of wielding a bow in this day and age?) Still, Phil thought Clint had done well, and that had been that.

And then Nat had unexpectedly popped into their lives, and Clint had taken a leaf out of Phil's book and tried to give her a chance. He was no Coulson, but for some reason, she had listened.

So Coulson became sort of legendary for dealing with the most dangerous agents SHIELD had—the infamous Black Widow and the sniper Hawkeye. The three of them became a team, Clint and Nat always sticking together on the field with Coulson acting as their handler, the steady voice in their ears.

It wasn't until much later that Clint and Phil became more, and Nat was the only one who knew about it. She didn't mind the rumors that said she and Hawkeye were a thing, although both of them knew that would never happen. Clint loved her, he did, but like he would a sister, and that worked for Nat. She'd had plenty of men lusting after her body, but platonic affection didn't really abound in the life of the Black Widow. It protected Clint and Phil from SHIELD's prying eyes, and that was what mattered.

They'd had a good thing, the three of them. And then Loki had popped up through a portal at the PEGASUS project facility, and everything had come crashing down like a castle of cards.

Clint didn't think he would ever stop having nightmares about opening his eyes and finding the world tinted blue. It wasn't what had actually happened—the visual effect on his eyes hadn't affected his senses or perception. It would have defeated the purpose of the mind-control, he supposed, since a change like that would have been jarring for a sniper. But the blue had been there, at the back of his mind, shrouding his true sense of self. It had shown him his next target, and it had been the wrong one.

Killing other SHIELD agents had been bad enough. Clint didn't know if he would have recovered from it—he'd tried so hard to be a part of SHIELD, and now that would never happen and it was his own—no, Loki's, Loki's—fault. But maybe he could have dealt with it somehow, if not for Phil's death.

In hindsight, he should have known Nat had a different reason for going out in the field to face the Chitauri, but it had never occurred to Clint that it would be something like that. Phil was his rock. He would always be there. That was the one certainty Clint had always kept in his heart, in those moments full of doubt when he wondered what he would be when his eyesight and his steadiness would start to fail.

Hearing about Phil's death, and then, later, seeing the footage had shattered something inside Clint.

He had hated Stark's nonchalance after the battle, even before he'd found out about Phil. After that, he kept reliving that scene at the Tower—for a moment there, he'd had an arrow already pointed at the now vulnerable Loki, and he could have let it fly, could have taken his revenge. He hadn't because he had known Phil wouldn't want him to, and then the chance had been lost.

Natasha had told him not to be angry with Stark. She claimed that Stark had never actually seen anyone to help him after Afghanistan and the reactor poisoning, and his unrepentantly shameless behavior was just the way he acted. He didn't know how to 'turn it off'.

Clint had trusted her assessment—how could he not when he knew what Stark had done? Just looking at that wormhole had made him a little sick to his stomach. So he'd set it all aside and focused his hatred on Loki.

Only to once again have his world upended when Stark turned out to have known Loki in the biblical sense and he and Loki's dad claimed the genocidal maniac had been mind-controlled too.

He was secretly pleased when Nat had hit Stark right where it hurt most—Pepper. He was not so pleased when he realized he himself was not an exception to the Black Widow's secret keeping.

And now, here they were, in a SHIELD facility where Phil was apparently struggling between life and death, and leaning more toward death. The Asgardian had been led into the room and demanded a private moment with his son's victim. The moment the door had closed, all the surveillance focused on Phil had mysteriously died.

It was only the knowledge that the Asgardian was likely Phil's only chance at survival that had kept Clint's ass in his seat and his hand from reaching for his bow.

He was not surprised when Nat came to sit with him. "I'm sorry, Clint," she whispered. "I should have told you."

Clint didn't answer. He didn't think he could make his voice work, and he didn't trust himself not to say something they would both regret later.

He had known she was a liar but he had trusted her anyway. And he knew now that she always, always had a way in, could pinpoint exactly the right spot to push, to coax, to manipulate. He didn't want to think that she was using her skills on him.

"You were already taking it so hard," she said. "If you were given hope and then he died anyway... I thought it would be too much. I'm sorry."

Something in her tone made Clint look at her. She wasn't crying—but she never did, not really, not outside her covers, not when she truly felt pain. But there was tension in her stance, like they were in the middle of an op, not in a SHIELD hospital. Meeting her gaze reminded him of the moment he'd first crossed paths with the Widow, then his enemy.

She was right, in her own way. She couldn't have known the Asgardian would show up to help, and Coulson's medical reports stated that his chances of recovery were practically non-existent. His heart had indeed stopped after the Helicarrier attack. No one knew why he'd started breathing again—for a while the pervading theory was that Loki's victim had been Coulson's LMD, but that was of course, ridiculous—but there were only so many miracles they could expect. Even if he did pull through—which was unlikely—chances were that he would only ever be a vegetable, never again Clint's Phil.

And Clint had been so busy with his own grief that he'd forgotten about hers. He and Phil were the only family Nat had ever had. She didn't talk about her time with the Red Room, but if she'd ever had anyone there, they were likely long gone—or else Nat wouldn't have taken Clint's offer to come to SHIELD. And Nat had left in the middle of an op when she'd heard about what Loki had done to him. She'd gone to face the Hulk. On the Helicarrier, she had fought him minutes after the Hulk had almost killed her, and she'd knocked him out of the mind-control. She'd been there for him and had gotten Captain America—Steve—to trust him.

She was the Black Widow, but she was also his Nat, the little sister so much stronger and faster than him, but whom Clint still wished he could protect.

Clint crumpled in her arms. "No, don't apologize. It's not your fault, any of it."

Nat held him, caressing his hair and whispering endearments in Russian. "This is a good thing, Clint. We'll get him back. The All-Father would not have said he could heal Phil if he hadn't been planning on doing exactly that. We'll get him back."

She was right, of course, but Clint couldn't celebrate, not when it was next to impossible to entertain such hopes. Phil, alive and well again? God, it seemed like a dream.

The memory of the footage from Loki's attack replayed in Clint's brain on a sickening loop. No one could have survived that, not even Captain America, let alone Phil Coulson.

And yet, when the door to Phil's room opened to reveal Odin All-Father, the Asgardian was smiling. "He wishes to see you, Eye of Hawk."

Clint was on his feet so quickly he almost stumbled. He didn't know how he even got past the Asgardian—he didn't remember crossing the corridor. When he could think again, he was already in Phil's room, in front of Phil's bed, facing Phil—a smiling Phil.

Clint felt faint. His vision was blurry and his hands were shaking.

"Sit down, Agent," Phil said. "You look like you're about to fall over."

Clint sat. Well, he kind of dropped on the chair next to Phil's bed—sitting was a bit too much to ask under the circumstances.

"Sit-rep?" Phil asked, and it was just like a thousand ops in the past, Phil's voice, calm and collected, bringing him back from mission mode, anchoring him. It gave Clint a dose of his composure back.

"Been better, Boss. Don't recommend mind-control on the employment benefits list. And..." He couldn't really hold onto his attempt at levity. "Well, you were gone."

That was really the only way to put it. It was as easy as that. He couldn't even bring himself to say the word 'dead', not when he still wasn't quite sure he wasn't dreaming.

"You're not going to get rid of me so easily, Agent," Phil said. "After all, who else could be your handler? Sitwell? You'd drive him up the wall in two days."

Clint laughed wetly. "I think I already have." Although, to be fair, it had been a week since the battle, and Fury hadn't made the mistake of assigning Clint and Nat a new handler. Distantly, Clint wondered if Fury had been hoping for Phil's recovery too. Probably not. The director was too much of a realist and more than once he had said that he'd lost his one good eye.

Phil's warm hand landed on his own, a gesture of affection he wouldn't normally display in SHIELD HQ. "Well, then, he'll probably be relieved that I'm back and you can bother me instead."

"Everyone will be relieved," Clint replied. "Even Captain America has missed you."

Phil let out a little surprised chuckle. His fascination with Steve Rogers was well known by now, to the point that Clint might have felt threatened if he hadn't been so certain of Phil's own affection for him. "Hefty praise, indeed," Phil said. After a small moment of pause, Phil's smile faded and he fixed Clint with a piercing gaze. "Now, tell me Agent. What's bothering you?"

What wasn't? Aliens? Mind-control? An enemy who turned out to be a victim? One of their own fraternizing with said enemy? Nuclear bombs sent at the civilian population? Yeah, there were plenty of thing bothering Clint. But out of all of them, he knew which one Phil had pinpointed.

"What's going on, Phil? Why did the Asgardian ask specifically after you? Why did he heal you?" It wasn't that Clint minded, far from it, but there had been countless of other agents injured and killed—not to mention the civilian casualties.

"I can't talk about it right now," Phil said. "I'm still struggling to process it. But I assure you there's a good explanation. In the meantime, I'm going to need to ask you something unreasonable, Clint."

"Anything," Clint replied without a moment of hesitation. He wasn't just saying it either. He was finally starting to realize that this was really happening. Right then and there, there was nothing he would not do for Phil.

Phil gave him a small smile, the beautiful one he only ever showed to people he liked—like Nat and Clint, and weirdly enough, Stark. (Another reason why Clint had been furious with the billionaire after the whole Loki thing.)

"You put too much faith in me, Agent."

Clint snorted. "I very much doubt that. Come on, Phil. Just tell me."

For a few seconds, Phil seemed to consider his words before finally saying, "Trust Stark. I know it might not seem like it now, but he has his reasons for everything he does, and he's a good man."

Clint didn't know what to think about that. He had no idea if the Asgardian had told Phil about Loki's connection to Stark, but he must have—otherwise Phil would have never deemed it necessary to tell Clint to trust the billionaire. He had to admit that despite Stark's brush with death in the Battle of New York, these recent developments had shaken the reluctant respect Stark had earned from him.

But his doubts didn't matter right now. He couldn't exactly address them with Phil. There might be both SHIELD agents, but they knew better than to trust SHIELD with everything. And Phil clearly didn't want to talk about whatever the All-Father had told him—and done to him.

At the end of the day, Clint had faith in his Phil. It was as easy as that, and nothing, not aliens or magic or monsters, would change that.

"Will do, Boss. I'll trust him."

"Good." Phil smiled. "The Avengers have to stick together. You're a team."

Phil shifted, almost like he was going to reach for Clint, only to go tense and clutch his chest. "Damn. Seems like not even Asgardian magic is a match for an Asgardian spear through the heart."

Clint shot to his feet, ready to call the doctor, but Phil shook his head. "It's fine. Just a little tightness over the wound."

Feeling helpless, Clint started to fuss with Phil's blankets and pillows. In the process, he leaned over Phil.

It was only for a moment, but Clint wasn't called Hawkeye for no reason. "Talk to Stark," Phil mouthed at him. "Ask him about Thor. And tell him I said 'Beware of Crimson Peak'."

Clint didn't acknowledge the cryptic words—he knew better by now. He knew that in this position, his own body was shielding Phil's face from the cameras. For whatever reason, Phil wanted to keep this from SHIELD. He had known Clint would be able to read his lips—kind of came with the territory given Clint's hearing problems—and he didn't want this to get out.

Clearly, there was more going on here than Clint had originally thought. He let himself fluff Phil's pillows a bit more, and then sat back in the chair and said, "You really have to take more care of yourself, Boss. Nat and I really miss your voice in our ear."

"I promise I won't go after any crazy Asgardian gods if you promise to stop jumping off buildings," Phil replied.

Yeah, they were at a stalemate there—Phil knew that was never going to happen, and he was perpetually infuriated whenever Clint went through with one of his more dangerous stunts. But Clint could never say no to Phil to his face, so like always, he said, "We'll see."

He didn't stay much longer in the room. Phil's eyelids started to droop, and Clint acknowledged that the man needed his rest. Clint allowed himself to linger a few minutes after Phil fell asleep, but Phil's mouthed words were nudging at the back of his mind, and he knew they needed to be addressed.

It was just as well that a nurse came in to check Phil's vitals and kicked him out. After all that, it would have not been believable that Clint would leave on his own.

Fury was waiting outside, together with Nat. Even without looking at the director, Clint knew the man was very much aware of what he and Phil had talked about. He felt perversely glad that Phil had kept the Crimson Peak thing for Clint alone.

"Agent Barton," Fury greeted him. "I see you've spoken to Agent Coulson."

"I did, Sir, yes," Clint replied, keeping his voice level. "Whatever the Asgardian did helped him. It looks like he's going to be all right."

He wanted to ask why Fury had told Nat about Coulson, but had kept it from Clint. He wanted to ask what other secrets he was keeping. But he didn't, because Phil was alive, and Phil had given him an op, no matter how strange it might have been.

Fury eyed him like he expected Clint to chew off his head any moment now. "It's about time something good happened from our dealings with Asgard," he said after a small moment of pause. He looked at his watch and grunted. "I'll expect you tomorrow at SHIELD, Agents. For the moment, go home. You both look like hell."

Without another word, Fury left, his black coat fluttering behind him dramatically. Sometimes, Clint thought Fury wore it just because of that, for the effect. He wondered if Fury had come over just to check on Clint's state of mind. Right now, with Phil alive, not even that could piss him off.

"What happened with the All-Father?" he asked Natasha.

"He just vanished after you went into Phil's room," Natasha replied. "I don't know, but Fury looked pretty stressed. He's probably stuck trying to explain why they have to hand another weapon to Asgard."

Clint had completely forgotten about the stupid scepter. Given that it starred quite a lot in his nightmares, it was a clear evidence of his current mindset.

He stole another look at Phil's door, wishing he could go back inside. Natasha set a hand on his shoulder. "Fury's right, Clint. Go home. Get some sleep. I'll stay here and let you know if there's any change."

He knew why they were telling him that. Even if most everyone had been told that Clint hadn't been in control of his actions during the attack on the Helicarrier, people didn't forget that easily. Whenever he went into any SHIELD facility, the staff was jumpy. Even the psychiatrist Fury was making him see occasionally gave him strange looks when she thought he wasn't looking. Hell, if not for Fury—and the fact that Fury had seen what had happened with his own eye—Clint would probably be in an even worse position.

Okay, Barton, get your head back in the game. Stark. Crimson Peak. Mission mode.

He wanted to tell Nat about it, but now was not the time, or the place. Beside, she couldn't come with him to the Tower anyway. Stark didn't trust Natasha—her infiltration mission during the paladium poisoning sort of guaranteed that—and after Nat's Pepper comment, he would probably even refuse to see them if she came along. "Okay, Nat, I'm going," he said. "Jeez, you're starting to sound like Phil."

"I'll take that as a compliment," she replied.

There was a glint in her eyes that told him she might have guessed he was hiding something, but she let him go without comment. Still, as he left the hospital, Clint wished she could have come along.

He had a feeling that, for whatever he was about to hear, he would need the backup.

Chapter Text

Even before she had come to work for Stark Industries, Virginia 'Pepper' Potts had known Tony Stark was a genius. His technology was leaps and bounds ahead of Hammer Industries, the only other real competitor he had in the weapons business.

He also went through both lovers and PAs like he did through his underwear drawer. But for some reason, when she had applied for the job, the two of them had clicked. He had trusted her, and she had trusted him.

Later, Pepper would come to learn that Tony was terrible at anything remotely resembling a human relationship with more depth than sexual interaction. Even as she became the person closest to him, he never recalled anything like birthdays or allergies (the infamous strawberry incident came to mind).

But even so, Tony was like a magnet, and despite all his flaws, despite his drinking and his reckless lifestyle, Pepper had still fallen in love with him.

She had not reacted well to the appearance of Iron Man. She just had Tony back from Afghanistan, and he had gotten himself in an even more dangerous mess. At times, she thought that Obadiah had been right in their office conversation, and her Tony had never returned from that cave. Whenever she caught herself thinking that, she hated herself a little more.

The palladium poisoning had not been her brightest moment. In fact, it was probably the worst mistake in her life. She had gotten caught up in the rush of being acknowledged, of becoming a CEO from a simple PA, and she had missed the obvious signs. She had let her anger at his behavior get the better of her and had not seen it for what it was, a cry for help.

In his darkest moment, he had been all alone—except for JARVIS.

JARVIS was perhaps the best judge in all things Tony, and she had noticed a distinctive change in him after the poisoning. Not so much toward her—he didn't seem to blame her as much as she did herself. But on the few occasions Rhodey dropped by the Tower, JARVIS was cold, almost rude insofar as something—someone—like him could ever be rude.

And slowly, Rhodey had stopped coming. He still had the War Machine armor, and Tony still did repairs for it, but that was it.

Pepper didn't know how she felt about that. Sometimes, it seemed Tony didn't even realize what was going on with the other people around him. He was at his best with a wrench in his hand and robots around him, and for all his charm and wit, making friends and keeping them was not his specialty.

Which was why Thomas had been such a huge surprise. Tony's nightmares were to be expected after everything he'd gone through, but Pepper knew of no one named Thomas to have been involved in any of the traumatic events in Tony's life.

When one night, Tony had cried out in his sleep, "Thomas, I love you", Pepper had been furious. Tony Stark was not a man who said I love you. That was what she had thought. It hadn't mattered to her. Their regular exchange ("Will that be all, Mr. Stark?"/"That will be all, Ms. Potts.") was practically an "I love you"/"I love you too".

JARVIS had kept her from doing something stupid again, from judging and leaving him. And she had trusted JARVIS, because JARVIS was always, always there for Tony, even when she was not.

And then, Odin All-Father came to the tower, and Tony turned out to be married, and Pepper had no idea what to believe anymore.

When the Avengers came over, she didn't go back to the penthouse floor. She stayed on one of the guest floors with Jane—although Jane had long ago retreated to her room. JARVIS was the one who approached her.

"Do you wish to know what is happening, Ms. Potts?"

"I wish to know a lot of things, JARVIS, starting with why an alien identified himself as Tony's father-in-law."

"I believe Sir was just about to explain that before the arrival of the All-Father."

Pepper was tempted to ask JARVIS about it, but decided to wait for Tony instead. If he had wanted to tell her, she would trust that he would.

"It's fine, JARVIS. It's better if I speak to him instead. Just... One question. Who else knows about this, and who else is involved?"

"Other than a number of Asgardian parties and of course, myself, the only person Sir has told is Doctor Banner," JARVIS replied.

Bruce. That made sense. Tony and Bruce had become fast friends, closer than Tony and Rhodey had ever been. She wanted to feel offended—why had he told Bruce, but not her?—but she knew better. She wasn't solely his friend anymore. She was his girlfriend—or at least, had been.

Pepper curled on the couch in the guest room and just lay there. It was an incredibly unproductive thing to do—usually, she would be outraged—but if she tried to work, she wouldn't be able to focus. She might have attempted it anyway, but Stark Industries had distracted her from Tony during the palladium poisoning. For a little while, she had to stop being the CEO of Stark Industries and just be Pepper.

It was a long while later that Tony came to see her. He looked nervous when he stepped into the room, much like he had before. "Hey, Pep. Sorry for the wait. I was with Steve... Cap."

Right, JARVIS had mentioned Steve's arrival when he'd gotten Bruce to go to the penthouse. "The All-Father is gone?"

"For now, yes. Uh... Pep... I don't know how I should put this..."

"Just tell me, Tony. I think it's safe to say there's very little I would not believe right now. Who exactly is Thomas and how did you end up married to him? How is he linked to Asgard?"

"Thomas was Loki, in a different life, a past life. No, that's not right. Loki was Thomas." Tony rubbed his eyes. "God, this is hard. Okay, trying again. For some reason, Loki and Thor both lived a life as humans here on Earthgard. During that life, we met—at the time I was a woman named Edith Cushing. I married him."

Pepper stared at Tony. Okay, out of everything he could have possibly said, that was not an option she had considered.

If not for their recent Asgardian visitor, she would have never believed it. No wonder he'd been reluctant to tell her. And JARVIS... All this time, JARVIS had been gently nudging her, dropping hints. When she had any time for TV, reincarnation movies kept popping up on the screen for no apparent reason. Her ebook searches—a little guilty pleasure she never had enough time to indulge in—mysteriously brought up stories involving reincarnation. It was very, very discreet and Pepper would have never put two and two together, but it was meant to say a simple thing. "He's telling the truth."

Tony probably didn't even know JARVIS had been doing it—and that should have worried her, if only because she understood AIs shouldn't have that kind of autonomy. Instead, she was relieved.

Tony was obviously waiting for some sort of reaction, so Pepper asked, "How long have you known?"

"Not long," Tony replied. "I mean, I've always had flashes, small things, images, a few names..."

"Like Thomas," Pepper guessed.

Tony nodded. "Right. But it only really came to me when I met Loki. That was when I remembered... everything..."

There was something about his tone that put Pepper on alarm. It sounded kind of like the time he'd tried to tell her he was dying over a badly cooked omelet. She got up and went to him. "Tony, it's okay. I believe you, I do. Just... Tell me what happened."

Tony didn't acknowledge that request. "I'm so sorry, Pep. I wanted so badly to be what you needed. But I just... I can't let go. Of that life. Of him."

It hurt to hear that, Pepper could not deny it. But she had been ready for it, and it didn't make her feel any better to see how much he was obviously hurting.

That was the problem with Tony. He always tried, tried so hard and went too far. Iron Man was like that. Tony felt personally responsible for all of Obadiah's double-dealings, and he bled and burned and nearly killed himself for it. But it was more that Iron Man, Pepper now realized. He was always trying to over-compensate with her. And there was so much guilt and pain and fear in him right now that Pepper could not bring herself to regret loving him, even if he didn't love her back.

"Tony, breathe. It's not your fault. You didn't remember. What you and I have is still important. It just can't be... like that."

Tony's breath caught. "Why? Why are you always so good to me? I only ever hurt you."

It was a good question. Maybe Pepper should have been more surprised about this. But strangely, she wasn't. At some level, she thought she had always known she and Tony had never been meant to be. And not because he was Tony Stark, a womanizer, an eccentric genius, her boss. No, there was something more, something that had warned her away.

Some sort of realization dawned for Pepper. I only ever hurt you, Tony had said. The guilt in his eyes when he looked at her...

"Tony, in this other life of yours... Was I there?"

Tony flinched. "Yes." He turned away from her, looking tense. "JARV, file."

Silently, the JARVIS-operated holograms came to life. Since Tony was clearly having trouble talking about this, Pepper took this second option.

She was glad she had.

What she read horrified her beyond belief. Murder? Incest? When Tony spoke so fondly of his Thomas, this was not what she had imagined.

At some point—probably during the past week—Tony seemed to have had JARVIS pull up every available information on the Cushing and Sharpe families. Carter Cushing had been a wealthy American businessman. He'd had one daughter, Edith, his wife having died when Edith had been very young. Edith had grown up to be a lovely young woman, with a talent for writing.

And then a British noble had appeared in the picture, seeking funding for his inventions. Carter had quickly put a stop to his courtship of Edith, but he'd died shortly after, leaving Edith at the man's—Thomas—mercy.

Edith had married him and moved to his estate, only to later learn that Thomas had been having an affair with his older sister Lucille all along. Further, he had been married three times before, and all the women had died after having signed their money over to Thomas.

In the end, Edith's close friend Alan had come to help her, and he'd almost been killed in the process. Lucille had murdered Thomas, and had attempted to do the same to Edith, but Edith had managed to kill Lucille first.

Edith had never remarried. Allerdale Hall had been sold and demolished, and the Sharpe mines had died out. The Sharpe line had died with Edith, many years later.

But this was only part of the story, because the file also contained the identities of people Tony had encountered in his current life. Loki, Thor, Doctor Banner... Pepper.

Oh. Oh.

Pepper looked at the black-and-white images JARVIS had somehow managed to dig out. They weren't many, and no photos existed of either Lucille or Thomas, but there were some with Carter, Alan and Edith. It was more than clear that Alan had been in love with Edith.

"So, you see," Tony said, "here I am, breaking your heart all over again. It seems I'm destined to repeat Edith's mistakes."

"You don't have to, Tony," Pepper said gently. "You can let go of it."

Tony smiled sadly. "I wish I could. But... Those lines don't really say what I actually remember. I can't leave him, Pepper, I just can't. He's in so much pain. He was, even then. Thor... Thor is poison. The All-Father doesn't see it. This, now... It might be my last chance to save him."

A shiver went down Pepper's spine. "Tony, what are you talking about? What are you going to do?"

"That's why the All-Father came here, Pep. He told me... He said he wants to take me to Asgard. And I'm going."

Chapter Text

 All things considered, Tony was not surprised that Pepper was furious at his announcement. Really, he wished he could have explained the situation better, but even if they had now officially broken up, he wasn't comfortable singing Loki's praises in front of Pepper. He might be an idiot, but he wasn't completely heartless.

She shouted at him and cried and waved her hands in the air, as if to point at the now closed file. "Never mind me, Tony. You're following him again, and this time, it's not in another country. There'll be no one there to help you when it unavoidably goes south. What, are they unhappy they didn't finish the job the first time around?"

Tony could have said 'It's not like that'. Unfortunately, it was very much like that. Tony knew a grand total of three Asgardians, and the interaction between them hadn't been encouraging to say the least. The All-Father had made it clear he didn't like Tony. Even Loki had thrown him out the window—although allowances could be made since he had been mind-controlled at the time, and he'd still somehow managed to keep Tony from doing the pancake thing. As for Thor... Tony wasn't even going there.

"Yes, I know," he told Pepper. "I'm an idiot. If it helps, Cap is coming with me."

"Steve's just one guy, Tony," Pepper said, her voice a broken, shattered thing. "He's strong and fast, but compared to an Asgardian, that doesn't mean much. And what about you? Will the suit even work in Asgard? Will JARVIS?"

Tony winced. He could still remember how JARVIS's voice had cut off when he'd been in the void. He'd felt so lost and alone without it. If not for the green light, he didn't know what would have happened to him.

There was no point denying it. "He won't. I need Earth satellites and Earth tech for that. But I can modify a suit to bring a stripped down version of JARVIS's core program."

He didn't like the idea, but it was the best he could do, especially on such short notice. He already had most of the calculations on his tablet—multi-tasking was his friend—and it would not take long to make the changes.

He hated himself then, because no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't fix things, couldn't help but hurt Pepper. And she knew it too, knew that nothing she could say would change his mind.

"At least take Bruce," she tried at last.

Tony had already thought of that, but he knew it would never work. The All-Father would never allow it. Besides, there was no telling how the Hulk would react to interstellar travel. And if he wanted to be perfectly honest, Tony would prefer to keep Bruce as far away from Asgard as possible. He couldn't deny that it probably had a lot to do with what had happened in their past lives.

The fact that Pepper's protectiveness stemmed from a similar source—if not exactly the same one—didn't escape his attention. But he had always been selfish (volatile, self-obsessed, doesn't play well with others), and he would still follow his heart, no matter what.

"Bruce has already proven that he can stand up to an Asgardian in battle, so Odin will never agree to let him go. Besides, I'd much rather have him here, to keep you and JARV safe. I don't trust SHIELD to behave themselves while I'm gone."

"You can trust us to hold down the fort in your absence, Sir," JARVIS said primly. Was he offended that Tony didn't think he could handle it? God, Tony loved JARVIS.

"I know, Jay. Just... Indulge me on this one. I need to know you'll have an extra line of defense."

"Of course, Sir," JARVIS replied softly. "I understand."

Pepper was the one who asked the hardest question of all. "Just how long do you plan on being gone, Tony?"

Tony wasn't planning on anything. He didn't know what would happen. He had no guarantees. For all he knew, he would never return.

But he couldn't tell her that, even if she already knew, even if the question was more rhetorical than anything else. So instead, he just said, "I'll be back as soon as I can."

Pepper pressed her lips together into a thin line, but didn't argue with him further. "All right. I'll deal with Stark Industries in your absence. I'll review the documentation you need to have ready before you leave."

"Thanks, Pep. I mean it... Thank you."

Pepper smiled at him. "Don't mention it, Tony." She straightened her shoulders. "Will that be all, Mr. Stark?"

The old exchange made a pang course through Tony's heart, but he smiled back nonetheless. "That will be all, Ms. Potts."

Even if, through that, they'd practically said goodbye, neither of them moved to leave. Tony didn't even know which of them was supposed to go, and where. Pepper was staying in the penthouse with him. Clearly, they'd need new arrangements. But with everything that had happened, that couldn't have been further from his mind.

It was a relief when JARVIS broke the awkward moment. "Sir, Agent Barton is requesting entry to the Tower. Apparently, he needs to discuss something with you regarding Agent Coulson."

Pepper blanched. "Phil? Didn't Loki..."

Oh, right, he hadn't mentioned that charming little tidbit. "Apparently, Agent's not actually dead. The All-Daddy left to help out. Let him in, JARV. I really want to know how that worked out."

"I... I don't even know what to say to that." Pepper rubbed her eyes. She was perhaps one of the few people who knew that Tony had indeed cared about Agent Coulson.

"Does he look upset, Jay?" Tony asked.

"Not as such. He seems... thoughtful." JARVIS paused. "He has asked me to convey that he requests a private meeting with you."

Okay, that was unexpected. Tony bristled. "Whatever he wants to talk to me about, he can say in front of Pepper."

"It's fine, Tony." Pepper waved a hand. "Whatever he needs is probably important. Otherwise he wouldn't be here now of all times."

Pepper had a point. Legolas had been gone a while, but Tony hadn't expected him to come back at all given that he'd just found out about his handler's recovery.

"Okay, fair enough. Take him back up to the penthouse. I'll be there in a minute."

"Before you go, Sir, there is one more matter to consider. Doctor Foster seems to be awakening."

Jane! Oh, God, Tony had completely forgotten.

"I'll talk to her," Pepper offered. "JARVIS and I will figure something out."

"Just... not the reincarnation thing. I don't think she'd take that well."

"Indeed not, Sir," JARVIS said. "She was quite upset after her meeting with the All-Father."

Tony didn't ask how JARVIS knew that—JARVIS's protocols indicated that the privacy of the Tower inhabitants needed to be respected unless it could endanger them or other individuals—but it didn't come as a huge surprise either. Secretly, he hoped it would make Jane give up on her dream of Thor, although given his own Norse deity dream, he doubted it very much.

He hoped his trip to Asgard wouldn't hurt her too much, although she would undoubtedly be angry when she realized he'd lied.

It was a little strange to consider, but Tony's friends probably saw him as he did Jane—as in love with a murderer. Realistically, he knew Loki was no angel, but at the same time, he could never truly explain what Edith had seen in Thomas and what he still saw in Loki.

No, Loki and Thor were different, and if there was any justice in the world—or the nine realms—Tony would hopefully be able to prove it. If nothing else, because he really, seriously wanted to give the All-Father a little lesson. The guy was a grade A asshole.

Maybe he could sic the two cyclops (cyclopses?) at one another. That would be fun, and it would suit them both right. Then again, knowing Tony's luck, the two of them would bond over eyepatch fashion and fucking people over. Best not to test his luck.

With a sigh, Tony left Pepper to come up with something for Jane and went up to see Barton. He hoped this visit would go better than the last one—although, he supposed, it could hardly go much worse. He suspected that if not for the All-Daddy, Fury would have already thrown him into lock-up, just because he'd known Loki prior to the invasion and hadn't mentioned it.

Well, at least Fury had sent Legolas and not Natashalie. Tony could be civil to Barton. The archer had it in for Loki, but Tony could understand why that was, and even respect it.

****

After the earlier exchange, Clint expected Stark to be on the warpath. He expected some hostility. He might have known how to deal with that.

He didn't know how to deal with Stark sweeping in with his usual aplomb, offering him a drink and a casual smirk and simply asking, "So, Legolas... What's up? Come to arrest me yet?"

Not for the first time, Clint wished he had Nat's gift for words. He didn't. He was just a sniper, and he wasn't that good at dealing with eccentric billionaires. "I doubt that's going to happen anytime soon," he said slowly. "The All-Father's favor probably gives you diplomatic immunity or some such."

"Does it?" Stark scoffed. "That's something I guess. So, if that's not it, why are you here? Not that I don't appreciate the visit, but you know, things to do, a will to write."

So Stark thought going to Asgard was risky, and he was still going. Interesting.

"Actually, I'm off the clock," Clint said. "Phil asked me to talk to you."

Stark blinked, but didn't seem too taken aback. Or maybe he was just pretending not to be. "Yeah? How is Agent Agent? When is he going to be up and about threatening people with his taser?"

"Well, I don't know when that'll happen, but... It'll happen. A definite improvement to the almost dying thing."

"Fair enough." Stark took a sip of his drink. "So, what did Agent want you to talk to me about?"

Clint started to relax. So far, Stark had been nice enough. Maybe Phil was onto something. "He said to ask you about Thor. He said to tell you 'Beware of Crimson Peak'."

It happened so fast Clint almost didn't see it happen. Tony's face shut down, like he was an automaton that had lost electricity. His voice was utterly blank when he said, "Jay, Merchant of Death protocol."

Instantly, metal shutters slid over the windows and guns descended from the ceiling. What the hell? Clint hadn't even known the Tower was equipped with that sort of thing. Tony hadn't used any of it during the invasion, when Loki had been here. Why? He had no idea, but he knew it wasn't good.

"Now, I'm going to ask you once, and only once," Tony said coldly. "Where did you hear that?"

Clint was frozen. He was a secret agent. He'd stared death in the face countless times. He'd never felt more afraid before. "Phil told me," he replied. "Just now. At the hospital."

"Jay?"

"Records indicate that Agent Barton went directly to a SHIELD medical facility following your earlier conversation with the Avengers," the AI reported. "Following his departure from there, he came to the Tower at once. He has not been in contact with either of the parties who have knowledge of the issue."

Clint was chilled by the fact that JARVIS apparently monitored the activity of SHIELD agents. That didn't bode well for Phil's assessment of Tony Stark's character.

"Okay, we'll try this again," Tony said. "Agent told you. What else did he say?"

Clint choked down the panicked "nothing" on his lips. Jesus, he was trained for this. Granted, he had not expected using his SHIELD skills in the middle of Stark Tower of all things, but you learned something new every day. "He said I should trust you, that you were a good man, and you had reasons for the things you did. I gotta say, that was a little easier before you pointed your tower at me."

Tony snorted. "Kinky, Barton, kinky."

"Sir, if I may, the phrase in question was not mentioned in the file provided to Ms. Potts or Captain Rogers. You have only ever discussed it with Doctor Banner."

"Bruce?" Tony's face paled. "Bruce? No... It can't be. Jay..."

"Sir, I have taken the liberty to contact Doctor Banner. Perhaps a conversation with him will clarify the situation."

Tony's eyes were flashing in a way that reminded Clint alarmingly of Natasha. "Yeah, okay, Jay. Might as well."

This was bad. Stark had been betrayed before, and after Afghanistan and Obadiah Stane, it was more than understandable that Stark would have trust issues. If he believed Banner, the fucking Hulk, had somehow stabbed him in the back, the consequences could be disastrous.

Banner stumbled into the penthouse half-dressed, wild-eyed, but thankfully, not looking in any way green. "Tony, what's wrong? JARVIS said you needed to talk to me. Why is the Tower on alert?"

Tony didn't look at Banner. "Brucey... Do you know, you were the first person—other than JARV—whom I told everything about Loki and me?"

"Yes, of course. And I appreciate it a lot."

"Do you? Because I thought that if you knew that, you would also fucking know you'd have to keep it to yourself."

His voice became louder and louder as he spoke, but instead of sounding angry, he just seemed hurt. And that, Clint thought, was even worse. Every hunter knew that wild animals were at their most dangerous when they were hurt.

Fortunately, Banner took it in stride. The guy was totally zen, and Clint had to admire him for that. "Tony, I don't know what's going on, but I swear to you, I would never break your confidence. I've only ever spoken about it with you or JARVIS. Besides, who would I tell? You know I don't keep in contact with anyone from my old life."

The rational approach sliced through whatever haze had gripped Tony's mind. "Right... I guess you don't." Finally, he looked at Bruce. "You really didn't tell anyone?"

"No, Tony, I swear. Why? What's happening?"

"Barton is what's happening," Tony snarled.

Bruce pivoted toward Clint, and Clint couldn't help but take a step back. The guy had stayed as cool as a cucumber throughout his entire argument with Tony, but when Clint spoke, his eyes flashed green. Shit. Jesus, Phil, the things I do for you.

"Look, I'm just the messenger, okay? I have no idea what that even means. If I'd known... Well, I'd have probably come anyway, since I trust Phil. But I seriously had no idea what it means. It sounds like a line from a horror movie."

Tony let out a sharp bark of laughter. "God, Barton, you're either better at lying than you look, or you really have no idea how right you are."

Clint would have been offended—he was a spy, he had a great poker face, thank you very much—but he decided to keep his mouth shut and count his blessings that Tony apparently believed him. He might yet live to ask Phil what in the world he was thinking when he'd sent him here.

"Sir, there was one other who knew about the matter at hand," JARVIS intervened. "It didn't occur to me until now, and I apologize, but..."

Tony made a noise like he'd just realized something too. "The All-Daddy."

"Yes, Sir."

Tony heaved out a breath. "Yeah, okay, that sounds about right. But it's still very weird. Why would the All-Daddy tell Coulson of all people?"

"Probably for the same reason why he decided to heal him?" Bruce suggested, drawing a curious look from Tony. "I don't know, Tony, it's just a thought."

"You're probably right." Tony's expression softened, which was a little weird for Clint to see given how the man how looked at him earlier. "Sorry about that, Brucey. I should have known better than to doubt you."

"It's fine, Tony. I understand. It's an upsetting situation, and you have more than enough reasons to be a bit defensive."

A bit defensive? That was like saying the Hulk was a little angry. Jesus Christ, Clint had landed in a lot of crazy places, but this really took the cake. Never had it been clearer to him that no matter how much experience he had, he could still be taken by surprise.

He wondered if Tony and Bruce were a thing. At a different time, Clint would have said no, but now, he wasn't so sure. And if that was true, where did the Loki thing fit in the picture?

He still hadn't figured it out when Tony turned to look at him again. "Anything you can share with us, Barton? How did it look like to you when you spoke to Agent?"

"I don't know, Stark. Phil was very... strange about the whole thing. SHIELD surveillance didn't register whatever it was that he and the All-Father talked about, and Phil was vague about it too. He mouthed this bit to me, so the cameras wouldn't see it."

"When?" Tony asked. "When exactly did he mouth it?"

"Huh?" Clint was confused. "When I was fluffing his pillows I guess..."

"Jay?"

"Scanning now, Sir." A pause. "SHIELD files do indeed hold a video of Agent Barton and Agent Coulson's conversation. Toward the end, Agent Barton leans over him, fluffs his pillows, and his body covers that of Agent Coulson's in a way that hides Agent Coulson's face. A short message could have been conveyed at that time."

Okay, that explained how JARVIS had known what Clint was up to. Stark was so deep in SHIELD files they'd never get him out.

"I guess now that the gig is up, Fury's not trying to hide it anymore," Stark muttered.

"It seems so, Sir." Another pause. "Also, there has been an update on your status. Diplomatic immunity on account of Asgardian royal family liaison."

Clint couldn't help it. He laughed. "Hah. Called it."

"I guess you did, Bird-Brain, although that doesn't necessarily mean anything," Stark said. "This is SHIELD. Their entire framework is made out of lies. But... It's probably not your fault. Jay, disengage. Communications block still on."

The alarms stopped blaring, and the guns melted back into the ceiling. "Understood, Sir. I have notified all interested parties of the ending of the drill. Surveillance equipment signal located on Agent Barton's person continues to be blocked."

Clint didn't bother hiding his relief. "That was some scary shit, Stark. Warn a guy next time."

Stark snorted. "Please. Don't tell me you came into the house of a notoriously paranoid former weapons dealer who now turns out to have had an affair with a Norse god considered enemy of the state—and you're surprised he has defenses in place. If you do, I weep for the intelligence of SHIELD personnel."

When Stark put it that way, Clint had to admit he had a point. Yes, he should have known better. "I just thought you were done with the... Merchant of Death thing."

" Just because you have good intentions, doesn't mean everyone else has them too, Barton," Stark said. "You know that. Besides, the name is beside the point. What matters is the meaning."

"Which is?"

"That I'll protect what's mine. Easy as that."

He said it so calmly, so naturally, like it really was as easy as that. And maybe he was right, because wasn't Clint the same way? Wouldn't he gladly put an arrow through anyone who threatened Phil or Nat? Stark just had a bigger arrow.

The rationale brought him to an uncomfortable realization. "So does Loki count as yours?"

"Sure he does, Bird-Brain," Tony answered. "I thought that was already pretty clear."

"And Thor? Is he... yours too?"

He got lucky in that Tony had finally decided to return to his drink just as Clint asked the question. The end result was that Tony choked and started coughing violently as he inhaled the alcohol instead of swallowing it.

Bruce patted his back in clear concern—definitely something there—but fortunately, the episode didn't warrant attention from his Other Guy. Tony recovered quickly enough, although the first thing he did once he stopped coughing was glare at Clint. "God, no. Bleah, Brucey, have we invented brain bleach yet? I desperately need some, five minutes ago."

"Sorry, Tony, can't help you there."

Tony blew Bruce a raspberry. "Traitor. " He glanced back at Clint, his expression sobering. "Anyway... Thor... You didn't really interact with him much, did you?"

"Didn't get much chance." Clint shrugged. "By the time I snapped out of the mind-control, we went straight into the battle, and after that, we were all too busy with other things." By which he meant Clint had been busy mourning, and Thor watching over his insane sibling.

"Well, I'm assuming since Agent explicitly told you to ask me about him, he must be concerned that you'll meet him again at some point. Whatever the All-Daddy told him, that much is clear. So here's the thing, Barton. Whatever you think you saw in New York... It's a mask. Thor is a murderer."

"And Loki isn't?"

Tony just smiled bitterly. "I don't know, Barton. Maybe he is, maybe he isn't. I just know what I saw. And I can tell you this. If you ever get on the wrong side of Thor's temper, don't wait. Run."

Chapter Text

After Barton's visit, things settled into a strangely uneventful routine. Tony completed his Asgard suit and the paperwork Pepper had sent him for Stark Industries. It was actually far less than one would have believed—he'd already handled most of it during the palladium poisoning— which was fortunate because he didn't want to think about getting ready for a trip that could easily bring his death.

J ane took the news of his departure to Asgard rather well. "I knew you were hiding something, Mr. Stark," she told him, "but I definitely didn't expect that. I guess I can understand now why you were so keen on this project."

"Quite," Tony told her. After a long pause, he added, "You know that you'll still get funding for the research after I'm gone, right? I don't want you to stop working on this just because of the All-Daddy thing."

Jane huffed. "Are you kidding me? Of course I won't. This is my life's work. I don't know what's going on with Thor. When I met him in New Mexico, I thought... I don't know, there was something there. But in the end, we knew each for only a few days and he didn't come to see me after New York. Maybe he will, again, and maybe he won't, but whatever the case, I'm going to go on with my work. If we meet again, we'll see."

Tony was proud of her and ashamed that he had underestimated her intelligence. Of course she would not abandon her research just because things with Thor didn't work out. And yes, he was also relieved, because if Thor had pursued her, he would have had to do something about it, at least warn her somehow, and it would've likely not gone over well.

But at the same time, he couldn't say he wished he had her strength. It might be stupid, but he felt like what he and Loki had was different. So he let t he conversation go, and that was that.

He went to see Coulson, of course. Agent was already recovering quite well, and his pleasant unreadable smile was back on his face. He was also even more cryptic than ever before. "I hear you're going to Asgard, Mr. Stark. Do convey my greetings to Prince Loki."

Tony grunted. "I'll tell him, although I think you owe me an explanation or two."

Another placid smile. "Oh, I'm sure you'll figure it out eventually."

Tony couldn't ask—he didn't want to risk it in a SHIELD facility even if his tech could have blocked surveillance—and temporarily let the matter go. He spent as much time as possible with Bruce and Pepper—or rather, they made it their business to always be around him. Steve also dropped by the Tower, and although he never asked any questions, Tony could see he was tense.

He spoke to Fury a single time, when he was leaving Coulson's hospital room. "Be careful, Mr. Stark," the man said. "You're still needed on Earth."

Tony snorted, hiding his shock behind his sunglasses. "You wound me, oh furious one. It's almost like you think I can't handle a little thing like alien royalty."

"Stark, I'm serious."

"So am I. Relax, Fury. I'll be back. Have to take advantage of that shiny new diplomatic immunity."

All things considered, Tony had a lot of stuff to do—and even more that he could not finish. He just had a strange feeling, like it was too quiet. His little loss of control after the episode with Barton had brought about no consequences. The World Security Council, who'd launched a fucking nuke at New York, seemed completely fine with Tony taking a joy ride to Asgard for a conjugal visit to a war criminal. He hadn't seen Natasha since the day of the All-Daddy's visit.

More worryingly, JARVIS was making good progress in hacking SHIELD files. He'd uncovered some stuff that looked pretty important—SHIELD working on reverse-engineering STARK missiles. That pissed him off—but it wasn't necessarily what worried him.

It was too easy, JARVIS told him. It had been buried deep, yes, but nothing that would be a challenge for JARVIS. Fury knew that Tony made it his business to hack SHIELD on a regular basis—as proven by him keeping Coulson's survival from him—so why would stuff like that be accessible to him at all?

On the Asgardian front, Tony kept thinking about what the All-Daddy had told him that first day. Thanos. The All-Daddy hadn't been generous with the details on the guy. And it bothered Tony, because it made no sense. Odin seemed to think Tony's visit to Asgard was more important than dealing with the guy who'd tortured Loki and arranged the attack on Earthgard—which what? How was that even possible? Even assuming that Thanos was indeed dimensions away, like the All-Daddy had said, he was still a danger.

And yet, even with all his concerns, when the All-Daddy dropped by again, he didn't hesitate. He called Steve, grabbed his gear and was ready to go within ten minutes.

Pepper, Bruce, Happy and Jane came to see them off. The bots had also somehow managed to convince JARVIS to allow them on the penthouse level, so that they could be with Tony until he had to leave.

Tony watched their agitated robotic dance with a mix of sorrow and pride. "Are you trying to break my heart, Jay?" he muttered. "Because if you are, you're definitely succeeding."

"I wouldn't dream on it, Sir," JARVIS replied.

"You know I wouldn't leave you if I didn't have to. You know that, right?"

"Of course I do." JARVIS's voice was soft and full of an emotion that should have perhaps been beyond an AI. "I was merely reminding you that we will be here, waiting for you to return."

"Message received, JARV."

Leaving Pepper and Bruce hurt, but Bruce's determined look told him that the promise between them would be remembered, that Pepper and JARVIS and everything Tony loved would be safe under the Hulk's protection. Happy was a little teary eyed too, and Jane was quiet. Tony wondered if she had finally realized what it meant to have an Asgardian involved so deeply in your life.

Rhodey didn't come, but Tony didn't mind. He had protocols in place if the War Machine armor received unauthorized modifications. JARVIS could handle it even without Tony being there.

After countless hugs and promises, it was finally time to go. The All-Father didn't bother to disguise his relief. Weirdly, he had seemed a little wary around the bots, which was hilarious given the kind of power the guy had at his disposal. But he also hadn't rushed Tony like Tony had expected him to—what with him being a king and all that—which made Tony even more suspicious. Not a good way to start this trip, but it couldn't be helped.

"Captain, Man of Iron, if you would please approach, we will depart. Before we go, one warning. This method of travel is somewhat more strenuous than the Bifrost. Please keep your eyes closed at all times."

Tony had no intention of disobeying that warning. He suspected he'd already seen a sample of what they would be traveling through, and he definitely didn't want to revisit it. The idea of trusting the All-Father to lead him safely through that horrible blackness made him break out in cold sweat, but it was the only way to help Loki.

The All-Father made a complicated gesture, and the Tesseract appeared in his hands. Tony hadn't seen him use it when he'd been traveling alone, but maybe it was more difficult with the three of them.

The Tesseract was in a device similar to the one Thor had used when he'd left New York with Loki. Now, it had three handles instead of two.

"Please touch the handles of the device," the All-Father instructed them. "Hold onto your bags tightly with your free hand."

Now in his modified suit, Tony did as he was told. His faceplate came down, systems already activated. He shouldered his bag—packed with what he absolutely, essentially needed— and grabbed the handle, tightening the metallic fingers around it.

The world turned bright, and Tony snapped his eyes shut. There was a swirl of color behind his eyelids, but fortunately nothing like the creeping fingers he'd felt in the void. And then, before he knew it, it was over, and the All-Father was saying, "You can let go now."

Steve made a noise, and Tony followed his gaze to finally take in where they had landed. T ony had heard a lot of talk about the in famous Rainbow Bridge, but he hadn't expected it to look like an actual fucking rainbow.

The Irish must have been on to something, because there was a leprechaun and a pot of gold too. Okay, so the leprechaun was this huge dude dressed in gold armor— complete with a gold helmet just as over the top as Loki's—and a sword that was as tall as Tony. The pot was naturally the city—huge and so fucking gold it hurt Tony's eyes to look at it.

Tony had mixed feelings about it. He couldn't say it wasn't beautiful—it would have been a lie—but neither could he say he liked it.

One simple look at those golden walls, and Tony could see Thor growing up within them, flourishing in their light. Loki? Not so much.

The leprechaun also gave Tony the heebie-jeebies. It wasn't hard to figure out the guy was probably Heimdall—Thor had mentioned him a handful of times, and so had the myths—and it wasn't like Tony hadn't been ready for him. It wasn't even the knowledge that the famous gatekeeper could supposedly see everything. Tony had lived in the spotlight all his life so he was used to the scrutiny. No, it was something else, something he couldn't quite put his finger on, and it made his teeth rattle with irritation. He was grateful that the faceplate of the suit covered his face, although for all he knew, Heimdall could see him anyway. Meh. Whatever.

Since his first scrutiny of Asgard already left him on the edge, Tony tested his systems. The rudimentary AI attached to the armor worked fine—it wasn't JARVIS, but it would do the job if push came to shove. The repulsors worked and Tony launched himself into the air, hovering over the bridge.

Odin made the introductions with brisk efficiency. "Mr. Stark, Captain, this is our Gatekeeper, Heimdall. He watches over Asgard and the rest of the nine realms."

He didn't bother repeating their names to Heimdall, and it irritated Tony, although it would have been useless to begin with. Just to be obnoxious, Tony started to blab. "Must be interesting. How do you choose what to look at? Do you have a remote? Is that what the sword does?"

"The sword is called Hofund and was used to open the Bifrost mechanism," Heimdall said in a deep, cool voice.

Steve shot Tony one of disapproving, Captain-America-patented looks. "Everything is quite fascinating. Thank you."

Past Heimdall, three horses were already waiting, one of whom had eight legs. Unwilling to spend more time with the creepy gatekeeper, Tony tentatively approached the latter animal. Legends said that Sleipnir was Loki's son. Was that true?

He couldn't really pet the massive beast in the suit, and it probably wouldn't have been a good idea anyway, but he still liked it more than he did Heimdall. For some reason, even with the excessive number of limbs, Sleipnir didn't look wrong or malformed. In fact, the steed was actually quite beautiful, all sleek muscles and shiny grey coat.

Sleipnir whinnied, as if he could hear Tony, and Tony smiled for the first time since this morning. He lifted his face plate and waved at the horse. "And hello to you too, big guy. I'm Tony Stark."

Another whinny, and then Sleipnir nudged Tony with his hoof. Tony felt it even through the suit. "Easy there, big guy. I'm a bit more breakable than your regular friends."

Sleipnir snorted, as if laughing at him. On a whim, Tony reached for the horse, wondering how it—no, he—would react to Iron Man. Sleipnir nuzzled his palm, and then took a step closer and did the same with Tony's throat. The horse was taller than Tony in the suit. Damn, everything was big here. If his visit would extend longer than he hoped, Tony was going to get a complex.

Still, Tony didn't try to pull away from Sleipnir. He'd never had pets—other than the bots, who didn't count—but he found he liked the massive steed. The horse analyzed Tony's bag, but seemed to soon lose interest in it.

Odin interrupted them, calling Sleipnir to him with a sharp whistle. The horse returned to his master's side, leaving Tony feeling pretty morose. "He is seeking treats," Odin said. "Loki used to spoil him a great deal before his fall. You remind him of my son."

Tony swallowed around the knot in his throat. "Yeah. I guess I probably do." Shaking off his melancholy, he said, "At any rate, Your Majesty, you have one extra horse here. I'm not going to be able to ride. The suit is too heavy."

"That won't be a problem, Man of Iron. You can use your armor if you feel more comfortable."

Tony had been intending to do exactly that even without the All-Daddy's permission, so he ignored the words. He was a little amused when he realized Steve was struggling a little with his own horse too. He adjusted soon enough—damn peak of human perfection—and then they were off toward the palace.

He did wonder, though, why the All-Daddy had brought them to the bridge instead of using the Tesseract to take them straight to the palace. Was it another game, or did the Tesseract have limitations too?

Another question he had no answer for. He would have to remember to ask Loki.

It was also incredibly weird that there were no other guards. So far, Tony had seen no one but Heimdall.

Naturally, that changed when they entered the city, since there were plenty of citizens around—most of them confirming Tony's theory on height. Complex, here I come. They greeted their king respectfully, but paid no heed to Tony or Steve.

One would have thought they'd at least be a little surprised at the flying armor. Thor hadn't given him the impression that Iron Man-like tech was the norm in Godville.

The explanation to this peculiar behavior came when they reached the palace stables. A beautiful woman in an elaborate dress that looked like something straight out of Game of Thrones was waiting for them. She smiled at them as they approached and in the surreal light from the just as surreal sky—and seriously, where were they even located? There were weird planets and nebulas swirling where the sun should have been, and that was some grade A mind-fuckery there—she seemed to glow gold. She had gold curls—Tony could have never called her anything as plebeian as blond—and she seemed to emanate an aura of peace that threatened to settle the restlessness in Tony's heart.

"Greetings, Sir Stark, Sir Rogers, and welcome to Asgard. I am Frigga, Thor and Loki's mother."

Even after those simple words, Tony already liked her more than most Asgardians put together. First off, Sir Stark was so much better than Starkson or God forbid, Howardson—Thor called him that, and Tony swore he did it on purpose because he knew how much it irritated Tony. Not to mention that it was Iron Man, not Man of Iron—was that so hard? But most importantly, Frigga had not identified herself as queen of Asgard at all, but as a mother. It was telling, and it made him understand where she stood.

It was also slightly unnerving, because while Edith had been in love with one of her children, she had killed the other. The All-Daddy wasn't happy about that. What was Frigga's take?

Well, contrary to popular belief, Tony could be a gentleman when it counted. He landed the armor and bowed insofar as he could in his suit. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Queen Frigga." He lifted the face plate and kissed her hand. "You honor us through your presence."

He could practically feel Odin's eyes burning into his back—Tony had been nowhere near as friendly with the All-Daddy—but he ignored it. Frigga's smile widened, and that was what counted. He found he liked her smile. "My, you are quite the charmer, Sir Stark. I see why my son is so taken with you."

The way she said that made it sound like this was really only a visit to the in-laws, but unfortunately, the illusion did not last. "I see the glamor has held," she continued.

"Indeed, my queen," Odin said. "Asgard will only know of the mortals' presence when we deem it necessary."

Steve immediately snapped to attention. "With all due respect, Your Majesty, why exactly is that? We were assured that we would not be harmed during this journey."

"I assure you, Captain, you are quite safe," Odin told Steve.

Tony barely heard him, because he was too busy listening to what Frigga was saying—without moving her mouth. "It is not you or Sir Rogers I am concerned about, Sir Stark. I fear what would become of my son should word reach certain ears of what his sentence will entail."

Tony was more thankful than ever for the masks he'd cultivated throughout his time as the Merchant of Death, and even before that, just as Howard's Stark son. Clearly, Mrs. All-Daddy was keeping secrets from the All-Daddy himself. Tony wasn't sure if he was comfortable with having her in his head, but one thing was certain. Mrs. All-Daddy was on Loki's side.

To make that point even clearer, Sleipnir approached the queen almost as soon as the All-Daddy dismounted him. Frigga laughed and petted his large head. She slipped him a piece of what looked like an apple—although its skin was golden, and seriously, golden apples, that was actually a thing?—which Sleipnir quickly and gleefully ate.

Interestingly enough, Sleipnir displayed clear affection toward Frigga. He had obeyed the All-Daddy, but there had been none of the happy sounds or cheerful nuzzling. In fact, Sleipnir had been friendlier to Tony than to his own master. Message received. Sleipnir was apparently a good judge of character.

"He is indeed, Sir Stark," Frigga told him in his mind. Out loud, she was saying something else entirely. "Perhaps we could take our guests to their quarters, my king? Without the Bifrost, the journey must have been quite taxing."

Before Odin could reply, the sound of a booming voice interrupted the conversation. "Father! I see you have returned from Midgard safely. It pleases my heart greatly."

Tony froze. He hadn't seen Thor since the Battle, and he'd actively tried not to think about the fact that he would unavoidably cross paths with the thunder god during his visit on Asgard. Mostly, he'd focused on Loki and kind of ignored everything else. In hindsight, it had not been a good idea.

"Not to worry, Sir Stark," Frigga said, again through that weird telepathy thing. "Thor cannot see you."

Indeed, Thor seemed oblivious to Steve and Tony's presence, although that could have been because the All-Father was giving him a distinctly displeased look. "Thor. I thought you were in the training yard with Sif and the Warriors Three."

Uh-oh. Was Point Break in the proverbial dog house? Tony fought the urge not to chuckle.

"There are certain protocols to be observed when the All-Father returns from a journey, Sir Stark," Frigga explained. "In this particular situation, the All-Father has kept his trip to Midgard largely a secret. Thor himself is only aware of his father going to retrieve the Mind Gem and deal with the aftermath of Loki's actions. But first and foremost, the All-Father is king of Asgard, and all must respect that, including his son and his wife."

Okay, that made sense, and it also explained why Frigga was going behind the All-Daddy's back to talk to Tony since she obviously couldn't contradict him outright.

Thor, however, seemed determined to ignore his father's ill mood. "Father, have my apologies for my poorly considered approach. I would have demanded an audience, but I fear... I am anxious. I have not seen Loki since our return from Midgard. Is he well? Has he been up to more mischief?"

"Your brother is fine, my son," Odin replied, "but visits are not allowed until I reach a permanent decision regarding his sentence."

"Fret not, Thor," Frigga added. "Loki will be well. He has recovered from the attack of the green beast and the mind-control of the Chitauri."

Interesting. So they weren't keeping the mind-control a secret, even if the All-Daddy hadn't officially decided on a sentence. "Maintaining secrecy about this would be counter-productive, Sir Stark," Frigga conveyed in his mind. "Telling Thor is like telling the whole of Asgard without making an official announcement. Thor will share it with his Warriors Three, who in turn will tell their families and numerous friends. This must happen if Loki is to be pardoned."

So, a pardon. That was what she was going for. Tony was definitely on board with that idea.

Frigga smiled at Thor, but Tony got the feeling the smile was actually for him, and for his enthusiasm at saving Loki. "The All-Father has graciously allowed me to send projections of myself to Loki's cell. Do you wish to convey any messages to him, Thor?"

Thor shook his head. "No, Mother, thank you." A shadow crossed Thor's face, and it sent a shiver down Tony's spine, reminding him of a similar expression on a different, feminine face. "I believe he and I should speak alone."

"Perhaps," Frigga offered, her smile never faltering. Tony wondered how he could tell it was now fake.

Sleipnir whinnied, interrupting the conversation and drawing Thor's attention. "Ah, nephew," he said with a booming laugh. "Forgive me, I have no apple for you."

He reached out to touch the massive steed. He had to move past Steve to do so, but he still seemed completely oblivious to the super-soldier who now was practically holding his breath.

Of course, Thor's idea turned out to be a mistake, because he didn't even get the chance to make contact. As soon as he was within touching distance, Sleipnir bit him.

It was the funniest thing that had happened to Tony in a long time. Thor's expression was priceless, and Sleipnir stubbornly held on until the All-Father clicked his tongue and got the steed to release Thor. And wow, Thor was bleeding. Tony had seen Thor fight the Hulk and get only a few scratches. Nasty bite there, Sleipnir.

Frigga shot Thor a disapproving look. "Thor, you must remember, Sleipnir is not just a horse. He is an expression of Loki's magic. He will respond to a person or a situation as Loki is wont to do."

An expression of Loki's magic? So he wasn't Loki's actual child, like in the myths? Interesting.

Thor's jaw tightened. For a few moments there, he looked like he was about to retrieve his hammer—currently strapped to his waist—and hit Sleipnir in the head, but in the end, he didn't. "Yes, of course, Mother. Forgive me." He paused and straightened his back. "I should take my leave. Sif and the Three will be looking for me. Thank you for agreeing to speak with me, Father, Mother."

He bowed lowly, and was gone in a flutter of his red cape.

"Well, that was somewhat excruciating," Tony couldn't help but say once he was sure Thor was out of ear-shot.

Odin and Frigga shared a look, and Tony narrowly managed to avoid wincing. Right. Killed past-life Thor, and they don't like it. Remember that, Tony.

Thankfully, Steve intervened before the awkwardness could stretch into infinity and beyond. "I have to ask... What did you mean about Sleipnir being an expression of Loki's magic?"

"We kept Loki from having... relations with the stallion Svadilfari," Odin absently explained. "However, Loki did not have the heart to prevent Sleipnir's conception. As such, he created a mare construct to lure the steed, and the end result was the same."

That... didn't quite make sense. Assuming the story was as Odin told it, how could Loki have known about Sleipnir to begin with?

Once again, Steve asked the question on Tony's lips—and really, the Capsicle was turning out to be more useful that Tony had expected. "How exactly did that work? I mean... Can Loki see the future?"

Odin shut his mouth so suddenly Tony could almost hear his teeth click together. Oops, All-Daddy, let something out you weren't supposed to?

"Seidr users such as Loki can see... potential futures," Frigga replied steadily. "They are not exactly premonitions as you might understand them, but more like impressions."

She looked straight at Tony when she spoke, and Tony knew without being told that she was lying—or at least had not been entirely truthful—for Odin's benefit. It didn't matter—Tony could ask her about it later, or better yet, ask Loki.

This wasn't just about Sleipnir. The knowing the future thing would explain why Odin was acting in a way that seemed so incomprehensible for Tony, but Tony got the feeling Frigga's explanation made light of something that held potentially overwhelming implications.

"At any rate, I believe my beloved wife is correct and we need to make haste to the palace. We shall speak on the matter of Loki later. My queen?"

"Yes, of course, my king. I will lead our guests to their rooms."

Tony felt relieved when they left Odin in the stables and followed Frigga into the golden palace. For obvious reasons, she couldn't say anything out loud, but Tony took advantage of the occasion to try to actively convey his questions. "Back there, with the premonition thing... There is something more going on, and it has to do with me and Loki."

"Indeed, Sir Stark. It is complicated and unfortunately I do not have the time to explain properly." Frigga turned onto a different corridor, nodding slightly at the servants and guards who bowed in front of her. "It is also one of the reasons why we have reached this unfortunate situation to begin with. But know this, Sir Stark. I believe in my son. He has suffered and lost enough. I will do whatever it takes to make sure he doesn't suffer again."

"And Thor?" Tony couldn't help but ask. "Where does he fit in all this?"

Frigga wasn't looking at him, but her breath hitched. "The most painful thing for a mother is to be torn between her two children. I do not resent you for your actions, Sir Stark, even if I know my husband does. In my heart, I have hope for Thor, but I believe we have made some mistakes where he is concerned. I fear the extent of those mistakes, but I will not let them affect Loki any longer. I cannot."

Tony loved her then, just like he still loved the mother he had lost so long ago. Maria Stark had not been perfect, but she'd loved him and showed him kindness where Howard had not. Her loss and Jarvis's later death had hit Tony harder than Howard's ever had.

Frigga was just like Maria, he realized. She was just as trapped in her role as Tony's own mother, but she was still doing her best, trying to protect the child she loved—even if it meant having to go against yet another child. It didn't even seem to matter to her that Loki was adopted while Thor was her blood. They were both her children, and she was trying to do her best—for both of them.

"Indeed, Sir Stark," Frigga said softly. "And if you will wish it and the Norns are with us, you will be my child as well. It is long overdue, I think."

Frigga entered a wing of the palace that seemed emptier of people, and finally, she could address them out loud again. "I have assigned the two of you an apartment you can share. I'm afraid that you will not be able to dine at our table, not until your visit is announced officially, but you will be provided with everything you require."

"Thank you, Queen Frigga," Steve said. "We really appreciate your hospitality."

"Not at all, Sir Rogers," Frigga answered. "I am the one who must thank you for your kindness. You had no reason to come here save for the fondness you hold for Sir Stark, and yet, you did so. Your loyalty does credit to your people."

Amusingly, Steve blushed—it was kind of adorable. "It was nothing," he mumbled, obviously embarrassed.

Tony laughed, nudging Steve's shoulder with his own—gently, he was still in the armor, after all. "Don't be modest, Capsicle. She's right. And for the record, I do appreciate it."

Steve's smile made him look almost as golden as Frigga. "I'm glad."

They reached their apartment without further incident. Frigga hugged them both, although she held onto Tony for a little longer. Tony breathed in the scent of her hair. It reminded him of Loki.

"When can I see him?" he asked, not even bothering to do so through the telepathy thing.

"Soon," she answered. "I promise. It will be soon."

After pressing a kiss to his forehead, she left them in a flurry of perfumed skirts. "Wow," Steve said as they took refuge in their apartment. "That was... something."

"Yeah, Steve-o. It was." Tony looked out the massive window, at the strangely colorful Asgardian sky. "And I think the surprises are just beginning."

Chapter Text

 Loki paced through his cell. These days, it seemed the only thing he was doing, pacing. The books his mother sent him garnered no interest. He ate, but the food turned to ash in his mouth. His thoughts revolved on one thought and one thought alone. Was his mortal soul mate dead?

If not for his mother's visits he would have undoubtedly lost his mind. She came to him in illusion form, staying as long as she could, as long as the All-Father allowed. She assured him that Tony was safe, that the All-Father would not hurt him.

It would have been easier to believe if she hadn't also confirmed Tony had agreed to come to Asgard.

The foolish human would get himself killed, and it would be Loki's fault. No matter how hard he'd tried, he'd been unable to convince the All-Father to relent. Not even the threat of Thanos could sway him. He seemed completely set on this course of action.

It would be today, Loki knew. Today, Tony would arrive, and he'd be probably signing his own death warrant in the process. If only Loki was free. If only Loki had his seidr back. But his magic was slow to return, his fall through the void and the ensuing torture and mind-control having drained him quite completely. Odin had taken great pains to ensure that he stayed that way, and Loki's shackles held heavy spells that kept him from absorbing the energy of Yggdrasil and regaining his powers.

They would not hold him forever. They both knew it. But they would hold long enough for Odin to go through with his plan.

So Loki was left with nothing to do except pace. When his mother's figure finally manifested into the room, he almost dropped to his knees in relief.

"Hello, my son," she greeted him as she always did.

"Mother. Is he..."

"He is here, your Man of Iron." She smiled softly, her eyes glowing with affection. "He is a remarkable person. Sleipnir is quite taken with him already." Her voice drifted into his mind, distant, since she wasn't actually with him in the room, and he didn't have the magic to strengthen the connection. "He carries heavy traces of your seidr, to the point where I could speak to him."

The emphasis she put on the word 'speak' revealed that she was referring to telepathic communication. That was indeed unexpected, but perhaps it made sense. Loki had used his magic on his soul mate several times—twice in his life as Thomas Sharpe, then again, three times, during the Battle of New York. Restarting the reactor had been particularly challenging.

Knowing Heimdall could easily be watching the conversation, Loki focused on what she had said out loud. "Sleipnir? What happened?"

Whenever he thought about Sleipnir, Loki felt even guiltier about his attempted suicide. Even if he had not born Sleipnir out of his own flesh—he had no interest in being raped by a horse, thank you very much—Sleipnir was still his child, the only one he had managed to save since he had no connection to his soul mate.

Sleipnir was under the All-Father's protection, but it was Loki that he loved, and Loki who was his parent. He wished he had at least been allowed to see him when they'd arrived from Midgard.

Fortunately, Frigga's magic was quite potent and she managed to project an illusion of his son, as well as Tony. He laughed when Sleipnir bit Thor, although the idea that Thor wanted to see him didn't sit well with him. "Sleipnir has resented Thor for a while now," he mused. "I miss him."

"I know you do, my son. You will see him soon, him and Sir Stark."

Nervousness threatened to cut Loki's breath. "You should not have encouraged this, Mother. Stark should not be here. He should not have anything to do with me."

"Clearly, he disagrees. He loves you very much."

"He doesn't even know me," Loki snapped. "What we had was in a different life, and even then, half the time, I was lying to everyone."

Frigga hummed thoughtfully. "I think he knows you better than you might believe. Besides, my son, the two of you are soul mates. He might not remember the old cycle like you do, but his heart still holds onto it."

Loki's shoulders slumped. He couldn't argue with that. Tony's was an old soul, one that carried Loki's mark, and no matter how much Loki tried to deny it, that would never change.

He dropped down on the cot and buried his face in his hands. "Ever have I failed to protect them. My mate, my children. Ever have I lost them. Edith... I knew I should not claim her, but still, I married her, and still I drew her into danger. I am a monster."

"No!" Frigga shouted. "Don't call yourself that. You are no such thing."

"But it's true. Nothing has changed, not really. I am still the Destroyer of Worlds."

"You are not bound to the fate you had in the past cycle. That man was not my son. You are. Or will you deny it? Am I not your mother?"

Loki looked at her, seeing the fierceness and decisiveness in her face. She was, of course she was, but she should not be. "You are not," he said.

Much to his surprise, she smiled. "Oh, Loki. You are such a good liar, but in this, you cannot lie to me, or to yourself."

Maybe she was right, and maybe that was the problem. Loki was running out of lies. He had lied to himself all his life, even when he had seen the inconsistencies, the way the All-Father bent the truth. He had thought it did not matter the old Loki had been Jotnar—in this cycle, he could have easily been born from someone else. The fact that Baldur had never been born—at least not on Asgard—had confirmed that theory, leading him to believe that he had been chosen to be Odinson instead of Baldur.

But as the Liesmith, he should have known better than to believe such a transparent lie.

His mother knelt in front of him, graceful and lovely even in her illusion form. Loki wanted to reach for her and help her up, but he knew that if he touched her, she would fade. "Loki," she told him, "my son, if you do not trust yourself, you must trust in me and your Man of Iron. Can you give us that? Please, I beg you."

"Do not beg, Mother. You are queen. You should kneel to the All-Father alone."

"I bend my knee to whomever I wish," she replied. "And here and now, I am your mother, not his queen,"she finished in his mind.

She could not say such a thing out loud, of course. Officially, her duty was first and foremost to Odin. But something had changed, and suddenly, Loki feared for her. She had done something to make sure the pieces fell into place as she wished. Whatever it was, it wouldn't end well if the All-Father ever learned of it.

"Mother..."

"Hush now, my darling. Fret not. Simply trust me."

Loki thought about everything he had seen since he'd come to Asgard. He thought about the day Odin had first decided to try the spell.

Oh. Oh, Mother.

It had been Frigga's idea to stop the original attempt. She had been the one to express her doubts first. Odin had come up with the idea to bring the Mind Gem and Tony to Asgard almost immediately. But it had never truly been his idea.

The spell had been set up in her room, and she had so many runes. The All-Father trusted her. He had not seen whatever she had added to make him susceptible to her manipulations.

Of course, that one night would not have been enough, but there were other ways, potions and herbs to soften mental shields. The All-Father was crafty, and his power such that he'd detected the Frost Giants Loki had once led into Asgard simply through his magic. He could have found her out—but he had not.

He had wondered, when he'd first arrived, why Odin had let her remove his muzzle, why she had given her the Tesseract while he spoke to Loki. Now he knew.

This was treason of the worst sort, more so than anything Loki had ever done. If Asgard learned of this, the executioner's axe would be waiting.

Loki would not let it. He had to be Liesmith again, and he would, for her, for everything she had risked. "It is not you I doubt, Mother," he said. "This whole idea... It fills me with revulsion. I knew the All-Father despised me, but to go through with such a spell... And now, he has dragged Tony into it. I just..."

"You fear what your Man of Iron will see," his mother said, skillfully taking the conversation in a different direction, much like he had hoped he would. "Do not, my child. He would not have come and taken such a big chance if he did not believe in you." She sighed and finally got up. "I realize this is difficult, Loki, but there is always a reason for what your father does. You know that I would have not agreed to this if I had not believed it was the right choice."

"Do I?" Loki whispered, turning away from her. "Do I know that?"

"Loki, please..." She sounded pained, her voice thick with regret. "Don't make things worse."

Loki shot to his feet and glared at her. "Define worse."

Her eyes were swimming with tears as she looked at him, but they understood one another now. We will both lie. We will both deceive, if that is what it takes. I will be Loki, God of Mischief and Lies, and I will kneel for you, and for my soul mate, but never for the All-Father, or the Odinson. Never again.

He let his shoulders slump. "I will do as you say, but just... At least keep him safe."

His mother nodded. "I shall. He has a companion, the Captain of America, the one they call Steve Rogers. And I have already placed an added warding spell on him, just in case."

"Thank you, Mother," Loki answered, his voice subdued, trying and failing to hide his relief. After a long pause, he finally asked, "When is it? When am I to see the All-Father?"

"Tonight. Be strong, my Loki. The All-Father is not without compassion, and the threat of Thanos still looms. You and your Man of Iron will be needed. He knows that. We all do."

He nodded, but said nothing. Instead, he made himself reach for her, as if through an unconscious gesture.

Upon the touch of his hands, her figure began to fade. He watched her go, and once the last sparkle of magic had vanished, he let his lips thin with frustration.

Inside, he was planning. Inside, he could finally see things more clearly.

Tricks and lies. Illusions. He had learned to lie from the All-Father, but his mother had been to one to teach him to love his seidr. She had taught him how to weave light into clones, how to create real beings out of pure magic.

Perhaps she had always known he would at least want to have Sleipnir. What else had she known? He could not tell. He could not read her now. After Allerdale Hall, they had grown apart, as he had not had the heart to reveal to her everything that had happened. But perhaps, that would soon change. Perhaps, one day, he would ask her.

It would not be now, and definitely not while Loki was under so close watch. No, for now, they had to pretend and scheme and spin intrigues.

Even from the dungeons, even without his seidr, Loki could still do that. After all, he was his mother's son.

Chapter Text

 Tony hadn't been able to eat all day. He didn't know if it was because he was having flashes of porcelain tea sets again, but he simply couldn't swallow a damn thing. He was too restless.

"Sit down, Tony," Steve said without looking at him. He was currently curled in the window seat, sketching the planets and nebulas of the Asgardian sky. "You're going to make yourself sick."

Tony would have been angry with him if he hadn't already figured out Steve simply didn't handle stress the same way he did. As much as Steve tried to appear calm, there was a small furrow in his brow that Tony had seen just before the Battle of New York.

So, Tony didn't get angry. Instead, he chewed on his thumb and paced and wished he could talk to Steve without fearing the creepy leprechaun on the broken rainbow bridge. "I'm just nervous, Cap," he said. "I really want to see Loki."

"And you will, soon," Steve replied. "Everything will be all right. You'll see."

He himself didn't sound very convinced, and Tony couldn't blame him. Frigga had come to let them know that the spell would happen today. Her eyes had been a little red-rimmed, and she had seemed sad for some reason, but her mental voice had assured Tony that everything was proceeding as planned.

Since then, Tony had started to have the strangest feeling, like this was the silence before the storm and the shit was about to hit the proverbial fan. Steve couldn't possibly know what Frigga had conveyed to Tony, but he had good instincts, and there was something in the air in Asgard, something that screamed 'I'm not going to like this'.

Tony plopped down on the low couch-like thing and stared up at the ceiling. "I miss JARVIS," he mumbled.

"I know you do," Steve offered. "But think of it this way. If everything goes well, maybe you and Loki can go back to Earth together, and then you can have JARVIS and Loki both, huh?"

Tony eyed Steve with interest. "You're taking this awfully well, Cap," Tony said. "How come?"

Steve shrugged. "I've just been doing a lot of thinking since you showed me the file, and I want to see where this is all headed. Few things are ever black and white. When I was in the war, I fought an organization that was making Tesseract-based weapons, and now SHIELD is doing the exact same thing. What makes them better than Hydra? The comparisons are endless. Why did I get lucky with the serum, and Bruce got the Hulk?"

"They say it's because the serum draws out what's inside you," Tony replied. He hadn't realized Steve had been asking himself these questions.

"Yeah... That was what Erskine told me too. But how does that even work? Your... thing... It made me wonder... How can a serum reach inside you and find your soul?" Steve set his notepad aside, having apparently lost interest in drawing. "It just seems... I don't know, Tony. I don't understand it. But I think... I've decided to do what I can, and maybe understand a little more, understand why we're here, why the All-Father thought it was so important for you to visit. If there's another threat coming, we have to know about that too, and Loki can help us. And well, you seem to trust him, so he can't be all bad."

A little part of Tony that had never gotten over his childhood worship of Captain America squealed, "Cap trusts me. Oh my God." But because Tony was an adult—sort of—he maturely managed to choke out a reply, "Thanks, Cap. I think... You might like him if you give him a chance."

"Then I will." Steve smiled, and he looked both young and old at the same time. "And I'm sorry about what I said on the Helicarrier. I didn't mean it."

Tony was horrible at apologizing, so instead he chose a sort of middle-ground thing, "You're not so bad either, Cap. I said some... stuff too. Besides, Loki's Glowstick was also there, messing with our heads." He paused, thought about what he'd just told Captain America. "You know, that sounded far kinkier than I intended it too."

Steve blinked, as if he didn't even immediately realize what Tony meant, and then his face went red. "Tony!"

"What?" Tony grinned, wide and shameless. "It's not like it's not true. Besides, his actual glowstick is far less nasty."

Steve groaned and buried his face in his hands. And Tony realized that, while teasing Cap, he'd managed to talk and think about Loki without panicking.

It was so easy to forget these days that the two of them had beautiful memories. Yes, things had gone to shit fairly quickly, and Edith never had figured out just how much of their courtship had been real. However, there were still some moments they'd shared that Tony could trust even now. That first time their eyes had met over Edith's manuscript, before he'd even known who she was. Their first dance. That kiss in his workshop, filled with a despair Edith had not understood. And then there was Loki himself, and his "I'm not the man you knew", and "If it's all the same to you, I'll have that drink now." A liar's truth was always, always more precious. Thomas had died for his. Tony would not let it happen again.

In the end, that was why he had come. That was why he'd left Pepper, Brucey, JARVIS and the bots to follow the All-Daddy into a different world. Tony was a liar too, and he had as many masks as Loki, but Loki was his truth. He always had been.

And whether he'd intended it or not, Steve Rogers had reminded him of that.

"Hey, Cap. Thanks. I never thought I would be say this, but I'm glad Howard never stopped looking for you."

He didn't know if Steve realized how difficult it was for Tony to say that, but maybe he did, because the next thing he knew, Tony was in a Captain America patented embrace. "Thanks, Tony. That means a lot."

Tony Stark didn't do embraces, not really. Pepper was an exception—but she was Pepper—and he sometimes managed it with Brucey, but as a rule, that kind of human interraction made him break out in hives. (Bruce had once jokingly said it was his Victorian maiden sensibilities coming back to haunt him.) Still, rejecting Captain America would be like kicking a particularly patriotic puppy, or killing a bald eagle and three dozen kittens. So he let it slide and even managed to awkwardly do the manly back slap. Go him.

It was worth it, though, because when they finally broke away, Steve was grinning. Tony groaned theatrically. "Okay, all these emotions... They're kind of killing me here, Cap."

"Eh, don't pretend, Tony. I know your secret now. Beneath all that iron, there's actually a big gooey center."

Tony huffed. "I'll have you know the armor is a gold titanium alloy."

Before Steve could say anything to that, a knock sounded at the door. Tony went rigid. The only visitor they could have was, of course, Frigga—he doubted Odin would come see them personally. This likely meant it was time for the famous spell.

Wow, for a moment there, Tony had almost forgotten all about it. "Gah, who are you and what did you do with Captain America?" he asked Steve as he got up to get the door." That was sneaky. You distracted me."

Steve chuckled. "You're welcome."

Frigga was, indeed, the person on the other side of the door. "We're ready for you now, Sir Stark. We can go through with the spell."

"Okay. Right. Okay. Let's go."

Tony grabbed his armor—he'd made it portable, of course, and he had no intention of going anywhere in Godville without it. He waved at Steve, all the while mentally apologizing to the super-soldier that he'd ever compared him with Thor. Then, the good captain drifted from his mind, because he had to pay attention to what Frigga was saying. "I'm afraid my son is a little nervous over your reunion," she told Tony. "Please be patient with him. I fear accepting my husband's decision has been very difficult for him."

"I can't imagine why," Tony said sarcastically. "He did just come from a mind-whammy. Last thing he'd want is another one."

For all his words, he had a feeling Frigga was going somewhere else with this conversation. "What are you trying to tell me? What do I have to do?"

"You must play your part, Sir Stark," Frigga's voice whispered in his mind. "Loki already knows how to play his."

Out loud, she added, "I know, Sir Stark, and believe me I am greatly pained at the necessity."

"Is there no other way?" Tony asked. Through the strange telepathy thing, he asked another question, "This thing you're planning, is it by any chance treason?"

Frigga's shoulders tensed ever so slightly, before finally relaxing again. "Sir Stark," she said out loud, "even taking account Thanos's mind-control, my Loki is still accused of many crimes. The All-Father believes there must have been some other reason that pushed him into such drastic action, and I believe so too. And to be true... The alternative to this spell is not one I favor. Unfortunately, Sir Stark, some things cannot be helped."

In other words, hell yes, it was treason. That worked for Tony. He didn't trust the All-Daddy as far as he could throw him. The All-Mom was a different matter entirely.

"I will not be able to talk to you like this again, Sir Stark, not until the spell is over. Odin would feel it should I attempt it. Do not try to reach out to either Loki or me like you have during our conversations. We have a very small margin of error, and if this does not work, the consequences could be quite dire."

"I understand," Tony said. Out loud, he finished, "For the record, I have no intention of backing out. I'm here for Loki, no matter what needs to be done."

"My thanks, Sir Stark." She heaved a heavy sigh. "I fear that he will need you by the end. This sort of spell is incredibly taxing for a seidr user like Loki."

She led Tony to a different room, not very far from the apartment he and Steve had been given. And as the doors opened, his heart nearly stopped because finally, finally his eyes fell on Loki again.

Their gazes locked and held. Loki's eyes were back to normal, Tony noted. Once again, they were full of emotion. Other people might not have been able to read them, or read Loki, but Tony could, and in those beautiful orbs, he saw Loki's truth—unchanged, just like it had been so long ago, when they had been different people. And he knew that for this liar's truth, he was willing to take any chance, including that of stabbing the king of Asgard in the back.

****

"You should not have come here," was the first thing Loki said.

It wasn't even a lie. Loki wished his mother had found a different method, one that would have not entailed endangering Tony. Unfortunately, they were already here, and Loki could not have stopped this even if he hadn't been aware of the chances his mother had taken for him.

"Nice to see you too, Reindeer Games," Tony said. "And thanks again."

Loki snorted. "For what? I threw you out the window."

"You were mind-controlled. I don't blame you for that."

Tony knew that Loki had used his magic to help him. Maybe he didn't know everything, but he had guessed some bits and pieces. Clearly, he didn't want to discuss it in front of the All-Father, which was likely a good idea, since it could arouse suspicion as to the exact extent of the mind control on Loki. Frigga's hold on Odin was tenuous at best—she could not actually force him to do anything like the Other had done to Loki, since Odin was too powerful—so they needed to be careful.

"We should proceed with the spell," Odin ordered, his voice echoing heavily through the room. "Frigga?"

"Of course," Loki's mother said in a sedate tone. "Sir Stark, please join my son in the circle and take his hand."

Tony did what she told him with no hesitation. He set his armor aside, and he was now just a fragile human among Asgardians. Even so, he didn't seem to care about the danger. He had not looked away from Loki once. He seemed to be completely unaware that they were planning to do something that could potentially be the death of them all.

Clever, so clever, his Tony.

When their hands touched, a shiver went over Loki's spine. It was the second time they'd touched in this life, but he wished it was the first, because he finally felt... right, like a hole inside him had been filled.

He knew then why his mother had insisted on Tony being here. This was going to be difficult, on all of them. This would tread on Loki's soul. But with Tony's help, he could survive it. He could outlast it.

With the corner of his eye, he caught sight of his mother and the All-Father taking their places. The room smelled like flowers, incense and Frigga. Tony's hands were warm and dry, his eyes like melted chocolate. The cuffs on Loki's wrists were heavy, but suddenly, his head felt light.

His vision started to swim, and suddenly, his body seemed to be shifting, changing, shrinking. The world swirled, until at last, he was not in his mother's rooms anymore, but in the Weapon's Vault.

****

"Do the Frost Giants still live?" he heard himself ask tremulously. He looked up at his father, eagerly awaiting the answer.

On his other side, Thor grinned smugly. "When I am king, I'll hunt the monsters down and slay them all," he said, flinging his little arms in a mimicry of a battle, "just as you did Father."

"A wise king never seeks out war," their father offered steadily, "but he must always be ready for it."

As their father started walking away, leaving the platform with the Casket of Ancient Winters behind, Thor and Loki shared a smile, and then ran after him. They took his hands and walked with him, filled to the brim with enthusiasm.

"I'm ready for it, Father," Thor piped up.

Loki could already imagine himself and Thor defending the golden halls of their ancestors, side by side, like they were now. "So am I."

"Only one of you can ascend to the throne, but both of you were born to be kings."

That... didn't sound quite right to Loki. He didn't really want something his beloved brother couldn't have.

Maybe they could share the throne. After all, his father always said that the king of Asgard was the most powerful man in the Nine Realms. Once he and Thor were older, they could make their own rules. They could be kings together. That way, they could even share the Odinforce and between the two of them, they wouldn't have to fall into the Odinsleep like their father did.

Their mother was always so worried when that happened. Loki didn't like it when Mother was worried.

Later that night, he shared his idea with Thor. His brother's smile went blindingly bright. "It is a grand idea, brother," he whispered, curling against Loki under the blankets. "You are as ever right. Of course we must be kings together. After all, the only thing better than one Odinson is two Odinsons."

Loki didn't bother hiding his excitement. "Quite right." Sparks of green seidr danced in the air as he fell deep into thought. "And then, you will wield Mjolnir and I will wield Gungnir."

Thor pouted and stuck his tongue out at Loki. "I want Father's spear. Who needs a big old hammer?"

Loki laughed. "We can figure out the details later."

Thor nodded, and then absently reached for the green stars. "Loki? Do the goats again."

Smiling, Loki set his head on his brother's shoulder as his seidr came together to form the image of two goats drawing a chariot. For some reason, it always made Thor laugh, and he asked for it again and again when Loki practiced his illusions in front of him.

They fell asleep like that, in Thor's bed, dreaming of a distant future of a kingship they would share.

****

"Come now, brother! You cannot always stay in the library with your books. Come with us."

Loki rubbed his eyes tiredly and looked up at Thor. "I'm sure you'll have more fun without babysitting me."

Overnight, Thor seemed to have grown into a golden warrior, the might of Asgard vibrating in every inch of him. Meanwhile, Loki had not yet surpassed his coltish stage. It probably didn't help that he much preferred sitting in the library or in his mother's rooms and studying magic.

Thor seemed oblivious to this difference. "Nonsense, brother. I never have fun when you're not around. Come now, indulge me. Just this once."

It would not be just this once, but Loki could never say no to his golden sibling. In this, he was just like everyone else on Asgard.

He closed the book and put it away. "Very well, Thor. Just this once."

Thor whooped and pulled him close, noisily kissing his cheek like he had done many times when they'd been children. As the gesture registered, they both froze.

Loki's mind whirled as he considered the implications of the situation. It had been years since he and Thor had shared the nursery. It was no longer appropriate for them to touch one another that way. But Thor had always been very physically affectionate, and didn't understand boundaries. And really, it was one kiss on the cheek.

He pulled away from Thor with a smile. "Come now, brother. I believe you said something about an adventure."

The tension drained out of Thor's frame. "Yes, indeed. I know you're going to enjoy yourself very much."

****

The battle was practically over, but the storm was still raging. Loki mechanically slid a dagger into its sheathe, already running toward the source of the unleashed elemental force.

Thor laughed as he spun his hammer, oblivious to the fact that his lightning was now striking at friend and foe alike. Somewhere to their right, Sif was screaming. Fandral and Hogun were nowhere to be seen. Volstagg had been injured in an earlier bout—perhaps that was a good thing, since the voluminous warrior would have not been able to escape Thor's unleashed wrath.

There was no way to approach the thunderer. He was too lost in his bloodlust, in his need to destroy and defeat his opponents. The ground started to shake. Mjolnir shone crimson, blood licking over its side like tears.

Loki had to chance it. He was the only one who might actually manage to snap Thor out of his rage.

He tightened his shields around himself and jumped into the fray, ignoring the way the storm lashed out of him. Thor pivoted on his heel and threw the hammer at him, but Loki had been ready for it and dodged.

"Brother, please, you must stop."

Thor snarled, his eyes still bright with bersekr fury. Lightning struck out at Loki, but he held fast.

"Brother, we have won. Our foes are vanquished. You must return to us now."

Despite the fact that his senses were screaming, he stepped closer, approaching Thor like one would a dangerous animal. Thor's gaze was feverish as it fixed on him. He lunged, Mjolnir ready to deliver a blow that would surely crush Loki's skull.

The hammer fell through the illusion Loki had cast at the last moment. Previously invisible, Loki now emerged from his hiding spot and attached himself to his brother's side. "Thor, please. Stop this. Stop this and remember who you are."

A sudden hope had him summoning sparkles of green light, creating a chariot drawn by two goats. Thor grabbed Loki's arm, and a bone snapped at the strength used. Since he couldn't escape Thor, Loki went along with it, letting Thor manhandle him until they were practically hugging.

It would so easy now for Thor to break Loki's neck. Loki's seidr was powerful, but Thor had always been better than him at hand-to-hand combat. And with the bersekr rage heating Thor's blood, there was practically no chance for Loki to win.

Thor let the hammer drop and buried his face in Loki's hair. "Brother... Loki... I'm so tired."

Loki awkwardly hugged Thor, suppressing the tremor in his lips. "You can rest now, Thor. All is well. All will be well."

Behind Thor, Sif appeared, covered in sweat and the blood of her enemies. She curled her lips at the sight of the green magic. "Tricks."

Loki ignored her and focused on Thor. "All will be well," he said again. "We can go home now."

****

"I read something today, brother."

Loki hummed absently and flipped a page. "You, read? That's an achievement." Hmm, this potion seemed interesting. He would have to travel to Alfheim and Vanaheim to get the necessary components. Perhaps he could test the hidden paths some more. He'd just started using them recently, and he needed the practice.

"Brother!" Thor's bearded face appeared in his line of sight. "Loki, are you listening to me?"

It seemed Thor felt like being particularly obnoxious today. "Yes, Thor, what is it? What did you want?"

"Well, I've been thinking. You know how as children we used to say we would rule together?"

Loki sighed, already irritated by the conversation. "That was ages ago, Thor. Everyone knows you are the heir. There can only be one king of Asgard." It had bothered him in the beginning, before he'd realized just how much of a cage being king would be. No, Thor could have the throne. Loki didn't want it.

"Well, yes," Thor said, crossing his arms over his massive chest, "but I read something today. Did you know Freya and Frey are siblings?"

"Yes, but what does that have to do..." He trailed off as realization dawned, laughter bubbling in his chest. "Oh, Thor, that is a good jest. Please tell me you have not decided to take up my mantle. One God of Mischief is enough."

"I am not jesting, brother," Thor said seriously. "If they can rule as man and wife, why could we not?"

"So... You thought of making me your queen?" Loki's amusement was quickly fading. "Thor, I am a man."

"You are a skilled shape-shifter. That shouldn't matter."

Loki frowned. Thor had given this a lot of thought. It wasn't something he'd just read today. The implications unsettled Loki.

"Fair enough, Thor. But even assuming that the All-Father would agree to something like this—which I somehow find very doubtful—you would have me be argr for you?"

"Why not?" Thor's smile held something distinctively disquieting. "I know you take both women and men to your bed, brother. Why would it matter if it were me?" He reached for Loki's cheek and cupped it gently. "I would take care of you, brother, I swear it. I would never leave you unsatisfied."

Loki reeled away, only narrowly managing to keep himself from slapping Thor. "I will say this only once. You are my brother. No matter who else I bed, I do not see you as anything but a sibling, and that will never change."

****

Loki sighed tiredly, relieved that he was finally back in Asgard. His trip to Alfheim had been productive, but he had missed his home. He'd needed to put some distance between himself and Thor after the library incident, so he'd taken the occasion to go study the famous Alfheim libraries.

He hoped Thor had gotten over his foolish idea by now and they could go back to normal.

As he slid into the palace, he wondered where his oaf of a brother had gone. He was debating the pros and cons of going in search of his sibling when the sound of approaching voices reached his ears.

"Have you heard? The Frost Giants have culled their own kin."

Loki scowled, sliding through the shadows as the words of the two nobles reached his ears. "Well, can you blame them? " one of the men asked. "We all know the reasons."

"I suppose," the second said. "I never thought Laufey would do anything to benefit Asgard."

The first man snorted. "It is not for Asgard that he acts. Laufey knows, like we all do, that the trickster must be prevented from achieving his goals. And that starts with his... women. It seems drastic, but of course he would want to eliminate the threat."

Loki's mind started to spin. Eliminate the threat? What?

"Can you imagine? A snake? A wolf? A half-corpse? Only Loki would have such children."

How could they know? How could they possibly know about Fenrir and Jor and his beautiful Hel? And what did they mean about Laufey culling his own people?

He couldn't think. He couldn't even breathe. He just knew... He needed to see Frigga. He needed to see his mother.

He burst into her quarters without knocking. She looked up from her weave as he came in. Her eyes were red and her hands were trembling. "Thor and the Three went to Midgard... They brought word of a prophecy, of the people of Midgard describing you as the Destroyer of Worlds."

Loki felt sick. Midgard. Some sort of Midgardian seer must have caught a glimpse of the past cycle, like Loki, Odin and Frigga had. And now, they had spread the tale and... Everything was in ruins.

"T-The Frost Giants?"

Frigga couldn't seem to look at him anymore. "I'm sorry, Loki. They tracked down all females who displayed the sorcery necessary for the feats described by the Midgardian. The entire Iron Wood has been torn apart. If... If Angrboda was there, she is gone."

****

"Loki has wronged me. I demand that he mend what he has broken."

"And what boon would you request of my son, Lady Sif?"

"I merely wish for my hair back. That should not be too difficult for a trickster such as he."

Loki's shoulders slumped. Was he destined to have his mouth sewn shut, no matter what he did? Asgard didn't even need Gungnir and Mjolnir. The All-Father had already commissioned their creation when Loki had been but a child. Loki had thought he was safe of that threat. Apparently, he'd been mistaken.

Frigga's voice interrupted the exchange.

"What exactly happened to cause this? Loki?"

Loki couldn't look at her, couldn't see her disappointment or fear. "I... It was but a jest. I did not mean any harm."

Actually, he had lost his temper. As ever, Sif had been speaking insultingly of his use of magic on the battle grounds. She had called him ergi, and well... He had not been in the best frame of mind since he'd learned of what Laufey had done. It had all devolved from there.

If she'd been a man, he could have challenged her to holmgang, but she was not. Despite being one of the fiercest warriors of Asgard, she was still very much a woman. And Loki had been so angry that she, of all people, would look down on him for taking a different role than what society would have assigned him. He'd started to cast the spell before he could stop himself.

"I see," Frigga said. "Lady Sif, I'm afraid I might be responsible for this incident. I fear that I was the one to teach Loki to focus on someone's deeds, not their gender, and in this, I might have failed to instill the proper respect for your femininity."

It was an obvious jab at Sif, and Loki looked up, surprised. He expected his father to intervene, but Odin said nothing. Perhaps he did not know what to say.

"I-I do not blame you, my queen," Sif stammered.

"Nevertheless, Loki is only a boy, and it would be far too risky for him to travel to the realm you mentioned. I offer my own hair in exchange. I assure you that with a simple spell, it will fix the problem."

"Mother," Loki choked out, "you cannot."

Frigga's smile was warm and full of love. "Of course I can. After all, it is only hair. It will grow back."

Chapter Text

 "Loki, brother... I just heard. I am sorry."

Loki didn't move, nor acknowledge his brother in any way. He hadn't moved from this spot since they'd received word that Iwaldi was dead.

Loki didn't particularly care about the man—he never had, even in his past life. But Iwaldi had been Sigyn's father, and Sigyn was not born yet. Sigyn was gone too.

Many of Loki's memories from his past life were lost in haze of blazing hatred and pain. However, there were some that persisted.

Contrary to what the Midgardian myths claimed, he had loved both Angrboda and Sigyn a great deal. They were, in fact, the same person—just in different bodies.

Angrboda had been killed in the Iron Wood when Loki had been away. He'd been so grieved and in shock had he hadn't been able to make his way back until long after Asgard had taken his children.

By the time he had recovered, Fenrir was in chains, lost to him, Jormungandr on Midgard, and Hel cast out to the realms of the dead. Hel was the only one whom he'd ever managed to speak to—and according to her, none of the children knew what had happened.

Of course Loki suspected Asgard interference. How could he not? He had never been able to prove it, but he knew it, deep in his heart. And Loki would have burned Asgard down on the spot, but Frigg had stepped in and had brought Sigyn to him. Or rather, she had pointed out Sigyn's pregnant mother. Sigyn must have been conceived the moment Angrboda had died, but Loki had still recognized her, recognized her soul, saw the spark of seidr growing brighter every day.

For Sigyn, he had waited. And it irked her that she'd had other suitors, that her beauty had attracted others, but he'd been patient, since he had known that in the end, she was for him.

It had still ended in disaster. He had made a mistake. He had killed Baldur in revenge for his own lost children. But again, Asgard had retaliated. Knowing that Vali and Narfi were lost to him had been more painful than the snake venom burning his eyes.

Of course, Loki realized that he'd made many enemies and mistakes. But in the end, those mistakes had been his, not those of his children.

He had born them all in his heart, ever since his seidr had awakened the memories of the past cycle within him. And now, he would never see them again.

Thor sat down next to him, obviously not getting the message that Loki wanted to be alone. "I did not know what would happen when I heard that story on Midgard. I thought... I thought it was amusing. How could they possibly claim my beloved brother was Jotnar?"

Amusing. Loki's life and the death of his loved ones—they were a joke to Thor.

Thor shook his head, now trembling by Loki's side. "Brother, I... You know I am not clever like you. I simply did not think, did not realize. I couldn't imagine that a tale would be taken so seriously."

Loki still said nothing. If Thor had only listened to his lessons, he would have known such tales were always taken seriously. It was believed that seidr users were given this gift to prevent the mistakes in the past cycle and keep Yggdrasil safe. But Thor always ignored everything except his hammer and the idiots four.

"Loki, please, speak to me. Say something. I need to know you do not hate me."

Thor's voice was broken and lost, and Loki finally looked at his brother. "I do not hate you, Thor," he said blankly.

Thor's smile was a mockery of his usually sunny expression. "You are usually a better liar, Silvertongue."

"I am not lying. I just... I don't feel anything right now."

Thor wrapped his arm around Loki's shoulder, pulling him tightly against his chest. "I cannot promise you all will be well, brother, but I know you. You are strong. You will pull through this, and you will find your way, to the one who was meant for you."

Somehow, Thor's words managed to reach the part of Loki that was still functional. Thor was right. Loki might have lost his chance with his past loves—but the souls of his mate and his children were still out there somewhere. They were too beautiful and too important to be lost.

And who knew? Perhaps it was better, safer that things had not happened like in the past cycle. There had been so much suffering for them all, and while Loki had perhaps deserved it, the children had not.

Yes, their souls were still out there, and somehow, somewhere, Loki would find them.

****

"Loki! Brother, come drink with us."

Loki stalked past the table, unable to look at the partying Asgardians.

Today should have been Fenrir's birthday. He'd woken up this morning with the memory of a warm pup cuddling in his arms, a snakelet curled around his neck and a little girl laughing in his ear. When he'd finally blinked off the dizziness of sleep, he had not wept.

Instead, he had thrown himself into research, continuing his quest to find his children's souls.

Nothing worked. No spell, no book, nothing could give him a clue on how to do this.

Oh, if he ever stood in front of them, he would know them, but actually pinpointing them was a different matter entirely. Even a master of seidr such as Loki could not detect the subtlest strands of the wheels of fate. There was no telling where his family was. For all he knew, he would never find them again.

In complete despair, Loki ignored everything and everyone around him. He needed to go. He needed to leave. If he did not, he would do something crazy, and he would completely fall out of the All-Father's favor. It would be a disaster and lose him the one thing he still had—his title, and the fact that it gave him access to the tools and time he needed to search.

So, Loki suppressed his anger. Distantly, he heard Thor call out to him, but he didn't stop. He kept going, until his steps led him to his mother's garden.

Thor found him there, curled under a tree, staring up at the night sky.

"Brother?"

"Leave me, Thor. I am not good company this eve."

Thor cleared his throat and sat down by his side. Silence fell between them, broken only by the distant roaring of partying Aesir and the chirping of the crickets. "Brother," Thor said at last, "I have been thinking."

Normally, Loki would have provided an acidic quip like "That sounds difficult, a great strain on your part", but today he didn't have the energy. Instead, he sighed and said, "Stop being vague and just tell me, Thor. I lack the patience to needle it out of you."

"Right. It is about your... quest."

Loki froze. "What about it?"

"I know you've been having trouble," Thor blurted out. "But... Brother, what if we could go to someone for help?"

"Someone?" Loki repeated mockingly. "And who do you think could possibly help that I have not asked?"

Thor gave him a telling look. Realization dawned, and Loki immediately started to shake his head. "Thor, no. It's a horrible idea. The Norns? They never answer questions without asking for a price, and I fear that the price would be paid in my children's blood. I cannot chance it."

"If they ask for a price, I will pay it," Thor said. "This is my fault. If I had not spread that Midgardian tale... I want you to be happy, Loki. There must be a way. Surely, the Norns cannot be that cruel."

Loki knew better than to listen, but Thor's words brought the first spark of hope he had felt in centuries.

"Perhaps... You are right."

****

"Illustrious ladies, we seek your council in a matter of great importance."

Loki bowed lowly in front of the Norns. Right now, they appeared as three females, of three different ages, one old, one a lovely lass, and one a mere child. But Loki was not fooled. These were merely guises, chosen so that Loki and Thor could be in the presence of the beings that weaved fate itself. His heart was hammering. He had already started regretting coming here, but it was too late to back down.

"We know what you seek, Child of Chaos," Urd said. Her hair was white, and her face covered in wrinkles, every line telling a story of all the years that passed over the Nine Realms. "It is a worthy quest."

"But what is it that you seek, Thunderer?" Verdandi inquired, her gaze sliding past Loki to Thor. She was young and beautiful, almost like an elven maiden in her prime, her eyes sharp and full of questions.

Thor swallowed audibly. "I desire only my brother's happiness."

"Do you?" Skuld inquired, her voice like wisp of fog dissipating into the sea breeze. The figure of her child-like form seemed to flicker in and out of existence, ever-changing.

Past. Present. Future. Oh, they should have never come here.

Loki cleared his throat. Out of everyone he could have possibly brought with him, Thor was definitely not the best choice. He was brash and lost his temper easily. Even his fear of the Norns might not be enough to keep that in check.

"Due to... recent developments, I have lost my children and my soul mate. I was hoping that you might... perhaps be so generous so as to direct us their way."

Verdandi's eyes turned toward him."You know that answering such questions and fulfilling wishes does not come without a price."

"My brother and I have already discussed this, illustrious ladies," Thor said. Fortunately, he managed to sound deferential—even Thor could be taught, it seemed. "I have agreed to pay this price."

"I'm afraid that you cannot, Thunderer," Skuld answered, "for your wish and his do not coincide."

Thor faltered. "I... I do not..."

Loki grabbed Thor's wrist. "Whatever it is that you are thinking, do not dare lie, not in front of the Norns."

"Indeed, that would be most unwise," Urd offered. "It would also be useless, for we see all souls, and know all desires."

"We will not force you to reveal your wish, Thunderer," Skuld said. "However, I must warn you that should you choose that path, it will bring you great pain. Your strength will be your weakness and you will lose that which you most hold dear."

Thor faltered and tossed a glance toward Loki. "But my wish... It would be granted?"

Loki was beginning to get a bad feeling about this. "Thor, what exactly is this wish of yours?"

"You know, Child of Chaos," Verdandi said softly. "You have always known."

"But I... I don't..."

He was genuinely struggling now. The situation was quickly spiraling out of his control. "I am sorry, illustrious ladies. We should have not wasted your time. We shouldn't have come."

"The Thunderer has already made his choice, Child of Chaos," Urd said. "What of you? What will you decide?"

Loki's head was spinning. "If I see them... If I see my children and my mate, will it hurt them? Will they suffer?"

"Yes and no," Skuld replied. "There is pain, but there is also joy."

Loki couldn't stomach the idea of his loved ones suffering again because of his own selfishness. "I... I only wish for them to be safe and happy."

"So be it," Skuld murmured. "A new future will arise—from your wishes."

There was a loud clap, like the sound of Thor's thunder, and when Loki blinked again, the Norns were gone. Thor and Loki were back on the Bifrost, facing a livid All-Father.

"The Norns? What were the two of you thinking?" Odin's fury was like a palpable thing, crackling in the air. "This obsession has lasted long enough, Loki. I have allowed it, for I understand the compulsion, but you have gone too far, and now, your brother has fallen into it as well."

"It is not Loki's fault, Father," Thor tried to protest. "It was my idea."

"I'm sure you think so." Odin's shoulders slumped. "You are quite terrible at interpreting subterfuge, my son." He released a heavy sigh and his one eye turned steely again. "I'm afraid I cannot let this go unpunished. A simple trip, I might forgive, but I fear your meeting with the Norns might have put things in motion that we need to stop at all cost."

With the corner of his eye, Loki caught sight of his mother's approaching figure. She was still far away, riding on her mare as fast as she could. She'd never get here in time.

The All-Father was already lifting Gungnir. "For your rashness and selfishness, Thor and Loki Odinson, I hereby banish you to spend a lifetime on Midgard. Learn from your mistakes, be humbled and return better men."

She heard his mother call out, "Odin, no!" and then everything turned black.

****

The Lady Sharpe knew something was not right with her children. Young Thomas could not understand it at first, could not pinpoint the reasons behind the suspicious looks she threw their way. He thought Lucille must know. Lucille was older, and often times, seemed to understand things Thomas did not.

Thomas loved his elder sister a lot. That was why he was incredibly frightened to see the glint of something strange emerge in her eye. Every time their mother shouted or hit him, it grew brighter, fiercer. Thomas was afraid—of her, and for her—and she was the only thing he had, so he clung to her with everything he had.

It felt wrong to let her touch him, and Thomas briefly pulled away, only to remember yet again that without Lucille, he had nothing. He felt increasingly confused, increasingly empty and strange, like he'd been hollowed out and left a shell of what he'd been—and only Lucille's presence made things even slightly better.

But the spark in Lucille slowly turned into a wildfire, one which at last consumed the tentative half-peace in Allerdale Hall. Their mother was found in the tub, her skull pierced with a meat cleaver. The culprit was easily identifiable—and Thomas was separated from his sister.

In the years after the murder, Lucille grew into a beautiful woman, and Thomas into a man, and Thomas missed her fiercely. The world around him seemed alien and strange. He found himself reaching inside himself for something that wasn't there, and he filled that empty hole with theories and inventions and the hope that he'd be able to bring back the Sharpe mines.

And then, they were reunited, and Thomas saw that the distance between them had simply made things worse for Lucille. She was even angrier than ever, and he ached for her, for the beautiful sister who had protected him.

Anger? Fear? Love? Hope? It was so difficult to distinguish between emotions when it came to Lucille. But they were together again and that was the only thing that mattered. Right?

It was easier to hold onto that thought before his invention, his dream, his smiles started drawing in women—innocent women who had dreams of their own, women who asked for "I love you"s he couldn't bring himself to say and touches he couldn't bring himself to give, and worst of all, women who died, always died, at Lucille's hands.

Lucille's anger grew worse and worse—and for Thomas, it became increasingly hard to ignore the tightness in his chest, the feeling of 'no, this is wrong, I don't want this'.

Every time Lucille touched him, he felt like he was choking. He was crumbling, like the house, sinking into the red clay, sinking into the crimson.

He was more than Thomas Sharpe, baronet. But who? Who had he been?

The memory started to haze, then brighten, the hint of blue filtering through it.

Thinking back, he realized the first spark had been Enola Sciotti. He could remember it now... Enola herself had not even been the one to draw his attention. It was just... her dog. It looked familiar.

He had looked at it and thought, "Loki. I am Loki."

That recollection was all but faded now, lost in the pain that had come after, the pain of seeing Lucille give birth to their unfortunate child who'd died so soon after that. Loki. A father, a husband, a lost soul. Child of Chaos. Was he always meant to lose the ones he loved?

He did not have the stomach to kill the dog as Lucille asked. He just abandoned it, feeling as lifeless and lost as Enola had been.

And then, he'd met Edith. She had been in Carter Cushing's office, bent over a type-writer and...

Suddenly, the memory of Edith overlapped and cracked, and her fair figure split into two, like one of Loki's own doppelgangers.

The memory-Edith stayed where she was, typing away until she noticed his approach and looked at him. But next to her stood someone else. Tony Stark.

"Well, this is interesting. Was this supposed to happen?"

"I'm not sure," Loki found himself replying.

He looked around, only to realize that Thomas and Edith were talking, bent over the manuscript, lost in one another's eyes. It seemed at one point, Loki had separated from memory-Thomas.

"I remember that," Tony said, his voice distant. "I remembered it even when I didn't remember anything else."

"I'm sorry," Loki whispered. He had to say it now, because he hadn't actually gotten the chance before. The conversation in the Tower had been tainted by his fear of Thanos and Odin, by the mind-control. "You should not have come here. It's not safe."

"Yeah, I kind of got that. But I couldn't exactly leave you. We're in this together, I think. We always have been."

In the memory, Edith was entering a room where Thomas was trying to convince Carter Cushing of the viability of his invention. Tony entwined his fingers with Loki's, and the bitter taste of humiliation, anger and loss faded into something more manageable.

"How much did you see?" he asked quietly.

"Pretty much all of it," Tony replied. "I... It's hard for me to... reconcile that Thor with the one I know."

"Yes, I can understand that. But he wasn't always Lucille."

That was what made it harder, why even after everything, Loki still had trouble truly hating his brother, why he'd barely scratched Thor during the Battle of New York. Everything had fallen apart because of Thor, because of him bringing back that stupid prophecy. But Loki still remembered the green carriage with the little goats, and the two boys holding hands, and he ached.

He shook himself out of those thoughts when it occurred to him then that Tony would likely see things Edith had not noticed, not known. And indeed, the tension in Tony drastically increased as he watched the argument between his father and the two Sharpe siblings.

How odd, Loki thought. How strange that he could see the memory like this. A recollection didn't work that way—he should have been unable to see it 'from the outside', to see himself, so to speak. But the Mind Gem was powerful indeed, and in fact, it had a mind of its own.

He was glad that, at the very least, he had not been the one to kill Carter Cushing. He was glad that he'd genuinely felt remorse over Edith's tears, because Tony could still sense echoes of those feelings, of his thoughts and desires.

He had wanted Edith for his own, but not like that, never like that. He had been flailing, incredibly torn, needing her, unable to let her go, but knowing that if he took her back to Allerdale Hall, he would practically be signing her death sentence.

He had done it anyway, and he still hated himself for it.

He hated himself even more at the knowledge of how much he had loved feeling the warmth of her slender body against his own.

Their wedding had been brief, discreet, the happiness of it tainted by the fact that Edith still mourned her father. But Loki still treasured that memory. During brief instants, when he'd been able to make himself forget, he had been happy.

And then came a different memory, one he and Tony/Edith shared—the day of their arrival to Allerdale Hall. It had been a beautiful sunny day, and it made the mansion look almost... elegant instead of gloomy.

Thomas helped Edith out of the carriage... and then there was the puppy again. Enola's dog. Tony smiled. "I remember that doggy. He followed me around everywhere. He..."

Tony trailed off and the memory of Thomas carrying Edith over the threshold shifted into something different.

Loki didn't recognize the scene. He recognized where it took place—it wasn't that difficult, Allerdale Hall was still visible in the distance—but Thomas himself had not been present.

Edith was throwing a ball at the puppy. As the puppy ran for the toy, Loki caught sight of something in the distance—at the same time as Edith.

The ghostly figure of a woman stood out starkly against the clear horizon. Loki had never seen the spirits Edith had, but now that he could, he wondered how Edith had been so brave, for so long.

The ghost extended her arm, gesturing in the direction of the town, asking for Edith to leave. A distant whisper reached Loki's ear, "Beware of Crimson Peak."

"The ghosts always said that," a sudden voice offered, drawing Loki's eye from the twisted shadow.

Loki pivoted so quickly his head almost spun.

He had never heard that voice, not in this lifetime, or in this cycle, but he could still remember it. It was one of the few things—other than his children and his soul mate—that he could remember with incredible clarity from the past cycle, when he'd been Odin's blood-brother, not his foundling of a son.

Baldur was standing right behind him, smiling, golden curls framing his handsome face. There was a small ball in his hand. "Hello, brother. It seems I owe you an apology. You do have conviction, where it counts."

Chapter Text

Odin All-Father had been prepared for many things when he'd decided to go through with this spell. He'd been prepared to witness the unmistakeable corruption of Loki's soul.

He was not ready to see and feel the strength of Loki and Thor's brotherly bond.

It had been that way once. He could remember it now. During their early years, Loki had been the only one who could draw Thor out of his bersekr fury. Everyone was wary of him then—and rightly so, for Thor did not distinguish between friend and foe while in that state—but Loki always stepped up, always went to him anyway.

Odin's own blood-brother had been like that too, before betrayal, monsters and death had soured things between them. For a Liesmith, Loki had always been capable of great loyalty.

He was even more surprised to see that it was Thor who reached out to Loki in a distinctly not brotherly manner. Odin would have deemed it a manipulation on Loki's part, caused by some prolonged plan of seduction, perhaps even a spell—but his hold on Loki's memories could not lie, and Loki was genuinely horrified. He loved Thor, but had no interest in him in such a way.

After that, things turned more and more glum. Odin watched/felt Loki sink deeper into a pit of despair as he searched the Nine Realms for the shadows plaguing his thoughts and dreams. He remembered how angered he'd been by it at the time, how Loki could still love the creatures who'd brought down the Tree, the snake who'd killed Thor, the wolf who'd been Odin's own end, the half-dead woman who had brought her armies forth to tear all existence down. But when seeing it from Loki's own perspective... In the end, Loki did not see them as monsters. He saw them as children.

Still, Odin tried to steel himself against that. Loki was in the wrong here. The fact that he held emotion for those things was not a point in his favor.

And then came Nornheim and Loki and Thor's punishment. Something shifted in the memory.

The Loki in the memory was someone who did not understand what was happening. A distinctive disconnect emerged between Loki's mortal mind—Thomas—and Odin's. Because Odin did understand.

He remembered Frigga's tears on the Bifrost, her desperate 'Odin, don't', seconds before he had banished them.

Frigga rarely interfered in his decisions. In this cycle, she was not cursed to die if she spoke of her visions, but her power was limited in other ways. Her images of their future were twisted by their memories of the past.

So Odin had not listened, but now, he understood why Frigga had been so fearful.

Thor and Loki had never been meant for an extended lifetime in a mortal form. Thor in particular had trouble with it. His unrequited love for Loki—one Odin could now clearly see—had driven a deep spike of fury into his heart.

Without his god-like skill to control the thunder, the bersekr rage took over.

It was not a sudden explosion, like in the case of Thor himself. With Lucille Sharpe, it was more insidious. She could not afford to lash out blindly, for she did not have Thor's true strength. But nevertheless, she was wildly successful in her murders.

When he had first seen this from his throne, Odin had blamed Loki for it. How could he not? Thor must have clearly been under some sort of influence from Loki. Otherwise he would have never acted in such a manner.

But Thomas's memories were those of a confused boy clinging to his older sister, not the Liesmith, not an evil mastermind twisting Lucille for his own benefit. He didn't remember his past existence at all.

The loss of his seidr at Odin's hands—while temporary, since not even Odin could hold Loki's magic at bay for too long, as subsequent events had so eloquently proven—had him stumbling in the dark, knowing he was missing something, but unsure what that something was.

It was perhaps ironic that all the women fell to poisons Odin had attributed as one of Loki's tricks—when it had been Thor all along.

Odin understood what had happened now. His punishment had made Thor's mind break, and in his state, Loki had been unable to help him like he had in the past.

Clearly, he'd been mistaken in believing Loki to be to blame in this matter.

A decision was cementing in his mind. Of course. It was so obvious. Thor loved Loki, and that was why he'd fallen into his anger and his madness. And Loki loved Thor too, for all that he might deny it.

They were not truly siblings. They were both men, but that didn't count as much as it normally would have, since Loki was a shape-shifter and could bear Thor heirs.

Thor and Loki had already had a child during this lifetime. And perhaps Odin should have realized what the manner of its death meant, but it was too late for that. It was still not to late for Thor. Odin could see the anger in Thor increase more and more. The wound would heal if Thor and Loki had other children, princes of Asgard, legitimate heirs to the throne of the Golden Realm.

Odin would marry them, and the situation would be fixed. As a bonus, he wouldn't have to worry about Loki running off with that arrogant mortal.

As if in response to Odin's own thoughts, the memory of Thomas Sharpe's spouse blasted into Odin's mind eye. His heart nearly stopped. She was so different from the Man of Iron, soft and fair where he was sharp and scathing. She reminded him of a younger Frigga or perhaps Idunn herself.

Loki loved her instantly. And Odin was torn between dismay and pain upon seeing Loki and Thor be torn apart again. While their relationship had been twisted, they had still been close in their own way—until her.

Thomas Sharpe, now Loki, struggled between his need for his sister, the only link he had to Asgard, his seidr and his past life, and his love for his fair Edith. In the end, it was not much of a choice—he would always choose his soul mate over everyone else, the exception being, perhaps, his children. But what else could Odin do, if not encourage the relationship between Thor and Loki? It was the best way—surely even Frigga would understand.

He wondered what his wife was making of all this. He felt her discreet presence all throughout the spell, winding around them, but there was no way to notice her reaction.

Odin was distracted from his questions when the images in Loki's memories began to shift. It was quite... peculiar. The power of the Mind Gem seemed to be separating Loki—and Odin and Frigga as well—from the actual, direct memories, and for this, Odin was glad. He was uncomfortable with experiencing Edith Cushing's touch through Loki's skin.

It never got to that, for the memories turned onto a different path. Beyond Carter Cushing's death, beyond Thomas's subsequent marriage to Edith, beyond their return to Allerdale Hall—there was something else.

There was the puppy.

An insignificant little thing, the dog zeroed in on Edith as soon as she arrived there. Odin vaguely remembered making note of the creature. He had thought it amusing at the time that Loki had not killed it when Thor had told him to. Now, he had a different understanding.

Now, he stood in front of the soul of his lost son, the child who had never been born to Asgard. Baldur.

Loki seemed just as shocked. He had not known. But that wasn't the weirdest part. Baldur was actually talking to Loki, as if this was not a memory, but something more. "Hello, brother. It seems I owe you an apology. You do have conviction, where it counts."

"Baldur?" Loki stammered. "How is this possible?"

Baldur shrugged. "I've lived many mortal lives. I don't even remember most of them. They were all in the bodies of beings unlikely to draw the eye. A butterfly, a peasant girl in France, a dog."

Loki swallowed, his hold on the Man of Iron tightening. "Agent Coulson."

The human winced. "So that's how you knew. I guess I need to apologize to Legolas."

A flash of memory twisted the mental landscape around them and Odin caught sight of a different scene. The archer from the hospital was speaking to the Man of Iron."He said to ask you about Thor. He said to tell you 'Beware of Crimson Peak'."

T he Man of Iron's subsequent anger confirmed Odin's concern s over him, but Baldur just chuckled lightly. "I knew you wouldn't hurt him. You would have hurt Natasha, or even Fury, but not Clint."

"Because of what I did to him during the invasion," Loki guessed.

"Yes," Baldur replied. "Although an apology would still be nice. He'd appreciate a new bow, I should think."

"You've got a deal, Agent... if we ever get out of this place."

Baldur didn't reply. His image was already fading away. Odin tried to move forward, but he was rooted on the spot. Loki and his mortal didn't seem to be able to see him.

Loki's memories resumed, but this times, they played forward in an out-of-control kaleidoscope. Suddenly, Odin could feel everything again, Loki's helplessness, his confusion, his struggle to aid Edith, his pain over the loss of his child. Voices danced in Odin's head.

"His blood will be on your hands."

Ghostly fingers reached for him. Somewhere, Edith was screaming, running. The Man of Iron's metal heart started to glow blue, so blue.

They were talking again, Loki and the Man of Iron, but Odin couldn't hear them. He was reaching for the falling Edith, desperately trying to catch her with the last fraying threads of his seidr. The memory flailed, Odin flicking in and out of Thomas, uncertain as to what was going on.

Alan McMichael arrived just in time to keep Edith from dying at Lucille's hands. But Lucille had had enough. The Thor inside her had reached his breaking point. She knew very little except rage and blood lust.

She killed Baldur.

A small puppy, an insignificant little thing—but that was when Odin knew he'd had it wrong all this time. For all his wisdom, he had been incredibly foolish.

The weave of the Norns changed with each cycle. It had been obvious from the very beginning that Loki would somehow be involved in the events that would trigger Ragnarok, and Odin had assumed that this meant he would bring down the Tree again.

But Loki had also been meant to kill Baldur, and he had not. Twice now, they had crossed paths, and Baldur had survived. The second time it had been a close call, but Loki had been under mind-control from Thanos. And still, Baldur lived, recovering with Odin's help.

He had not been so lucky in his dealings with Thor. In his lifetime as Coulson, they had barely crossed paths, but as the puppy, he had died at Lucille's hands.

It was an omen. It showed Odin what he had been blind to, what he himself had brought about.

Thor's mind was never meant to be trapped within a mortal body. Frigga had tried to stop him, but he'd been too stubborn to see. His reason had broken under the weight of his bersekr nature. And he had never recovered from that, not really.

Odin had thought his exile to Midgard had helped, and Norns be thanked that he hadn't repeated the previous punishment—otherwise there would have been nothing left of Thor. But even his passing infatuation with the mortal Foster had been unable to keep him from his obsession with Loki.

The memories were progressing now, faster and faster, and Odin watched Thor's mind crack as Loki desperately tried to find a compromise that could never come to pass. Loki's look of shock and betrayal as she stabbed him speared Odin through the chest. His own eye socket throbbed, and pulses of pain echoed in his brain.

"Jesus," the Man of Iron was saying. "I should have hit her harder. You okay, Lo?"

"Actually, yes," Loki replied. "It hurts to see it, but... I can't feel it like I did then."

Odin could, and it was incredibly painful. He blindly scrambled for Frigga, feeling for the strands of her magic. He found it scattered all over the place, crushed under the weight of pain and grief. She had not been able to keep her hold on the gem when faced with the realization of what had occurred.

The spell was going out of control. The world turned gray, and Odin found himself standing in a field of crimson and white. Edith was fighting Lucille, and it broke Odin's... or rather Thomas/Loki's heart.

Odin realized that Loki had somehow managed to hold onto Midgard and endure for a while longer, as a spirit. He had known Loki hadn't immediately returned to Asgard when the spell had summoned him back—another reason why he'd doubted Loki and blamed him for what had happened. But now, seeing every event through Loki's eyes, he understood why he'd done it.

Thomas's ghost distracted Lucille, and in Lucille's eyes, Odin saw a hint of Thor, desperation, agony and sorrow worming its way through the madness. And then Edith brought her shovel down, and Lucille Sharpe was no more.

But it was not the end. If anything, it was just the beginning, and as Asgard regained its princes, the destruction of Loki and Thor continued.

Odin saw his own anger through Loki's eyes, the increasingly sharp ways he treated his foster son. He saw Loki retreat more and more into himself as dark clouds gathered in Thor's eyes.

And all the while, the path to the coronation continued.

Edith's mortal life came to an end, and Loki mourned her. In the present, his hold on the Man of Iron tightened and the mortal's metal heart glowed even brighter.

Thor grew even more restless. He craved battle, craved war, thirsted for it. And Odin handed him the throne regardless.

Odin had never doubted the reasons for which Loki had staged the Jotnar attack. It had been always clear that Loki's jealousy had triggered his treachery. But he had never heard their exchange before the coronation, and had never felt the conflict in Loki's heart.

"Nice feathers."

"You don't really want to start this again, do you, cow?"

"I was being sincere."

"You are incapable of sincerity."

For a few moments, they were brothers again, as close as they had been growing up, but then Loki said, "Sometimes, I am envious, but never doubt that I love you."

The madness flashed back in Thor's eyes, and Loki saw it, of course he did. His course was set. He could not turn back.

"You still love him then?" the Man of Iron asked.

"I do not know," Loki replied. "I... I do not know how I feel. He was my brother for so long, and we were so close, but then... Midgard... You. I truly do not know."

"It's okay, Lo," the Man of Iron said quietly. "I think I understand now."

"You do?"

The Man of Iron nodded. "He's not right... in the head. I mean, I knew he had a screw loose, but it's different now, seeing it like this."

They didn't speak at all after that, because events enfolded so quickly it was impossible to get in a word. The memories were a jumble, scattered, a mess. Odin felt his own mind cracking under the strain as Loki desperately tried to control the situation spiraling into disaster.

He was Jotnar. He was Laufeyson. He was so foolish. How had he blinded himself to it, when it had been so obvious all along?

Thor was gone, on Midgard, with the mortals. This time around, he was humbled by the idea of Odin's demise. He did not seem about to go on a rampage, but that would not last.

No time. No time to prove himself a good king, to make sure he still had a place in Asgard. No time to find his children, his wife. Sif and the Three were gone... Thor's anger would be back all over again. No time. War was coming. Odin was still sleeping. No time.

Out of time.

"Loki, this is madness."

Tears and desperation, hysterical laughter at the irony. "Is it madness?"

Blindly clinging to butt of the spear. "I could have done it, Father, for you, for all of us." For Jor, and Fen, and Hel and Vali, and Narfi, my beloved wife and the child I never got to name.

"No, Loki."

And then Loki was falling, and Odin fell with him. In the present, Loki and the Man of Iron were a blur of blue, isolated from what was happening by the power of the Man of Iron's strange brand of seidr.

But Odin felt it when he hit the ground. He felt it when the Chitauri surrounded him and systematically started to strip him from his seidr, from his flesh. He felt the deconstruction of Loki's mind.

It was the Man of Iron who put a stop to it. Thanos was approaching Loki with the spear, the Mind Gem, and the Man of Iron's resilience to the sight of Loki's pain snapped.

The scepter in Thanos's hand shattered, and with it, so did the entire memory of Thanos's nightmarish dimension.

When Odin opened his eyes, he only managed to stop his own screams because of Frigga's own broken sobs. He tried to get up, but he found that he could not.

"Frigga," he cried out. "Wife..."

Frigga quickly rushed by his side. Her hair was in wild disaray and her eyes were swollen red. "Odin... I... Did you see? Baldur..."

"Yes..." Odin's voice was only a broken whisper now. It was his turn to run out of time. "Frigga... You must... You must protect... the realms... our son... protect them from... Thor.... Thor must not... take the throne..."

Those were the last words Odin All-Father managed to speak before he fell into the Sleep, never to wake again.

****

The entire palace shook with the aftermath of the spell. In the training yard, Thor's hold on his hammer faltered. His body went rigid so suddenly Fandral almost stabbed him in the gut.

"Thor? What is the matter, my friend?"

When Thor blinked again, there was something new—or rather, old—in his eyes. Lucille Sharpe had emerged from the shadows of his mind. "I must find Loki. I must find him now. He is mine."

In the Midgardian apartment, Steve Rogers grabbed his shield and made for the door.

Chapter Text

"What just happened?"

The words simply escaped Tony, eerily similar to what he'd said after waking up post-void in the Battle of New York. It was perhaps suitable, because he could see the void even now, burning in the eyes of the massive monster who had held Loki captive.

"It seems the spell has ended," Loki replied, looking a little wide-eyed himself.

That wasn't exactly the reason for their confusion. Tony could see that easily enough. The real problem was that the room around them was a mess. Tony and Loki remained standing in the center, untouched by the chaos, but everything else was in disarray. A powerful force seemed to have swept over Frigga's quarters, tearing everything apart.

Odin All-Father himself lay collapsed in his wife's arms. His fancy gold spear dropped from his limp fingers.

Frigga's eyes were swimming in tears. She seemed in shock. Tony couldn't tell if the emotion was genuine or not.

It only lasted for a few moments, and then, Frigga shook off her trance and called out, "Guards! Guards."

Tony hadn't seen that many guards while they'd been on their way here, but it stood to reason that the Asgardian troops wouldn't be too far. Also, it seemed discretion had stopped mattering, since he very much doubted Frigga would keep her hold on the glamor at a time like this.

He fidgeted uncomfortably, instinctively wanting to reach for his armor. Loki took hold of his wrist and kept him in place. "Not yet. We need to remain in the circle until Mother says so."

Right. The All-Father being injured during the spell could be suspicious as fuck, so they had to tread lightly. Message received.

A group of Aesir in fancy armors—and more of those funky helmets—rushed into the room upon hearing their queen's call. Their eyes widened in shock when they saw the state of the room. Their holds on their weapons tightened upon noticing Loki.

Frigga stepped in, drawing their attention to the matter at hand. "The All-Father has fallen into the Odinsleep. We need to take him to the healing rooms at once. Loki, Sir Stark, come with..."

Before she could finish the phrase, the wall of the room shattered and Thor came flying through. Idly, Tony thought that it was unnecessarily dramatic. The Aesir built their palace with massive windows and airy spaces, and Thor could have easily used the balcony for a less violent entry. It didn't bode well for how this meeting would go.

Pieces of masonry flew all over the place. The All-Mother gasped. "Thor!"

Thor didn't seem to see her. His eyes literally glowed, lit up from within. "Loki... I remember. I remember everything now, brother. You were mine. You are mine. You belong to me."

Loki went pale. Frigga's stance turned so rigid that Tony knew this hadn't been a consequence she had considered.

"Brother," Loki said softly. "You must stand down. You must let go of those memories."

Thor lifted his fancy hammer. "I will not. I cannot." He took another step forward. "I made mistakes then, yes, but we can still fix it. We can be together, just like we were then."

This was a very precarious situation indeed. Loki slowly let go of Tony, and Tony didn't need his genius intellect to know he was supposed to get his armor ASAP.

He moved away slowly, hoping he would not draw Thor's eye. It didn't work. Thor's gaze instantly snapped from Loki to Tony. He took one look at him and the smile on his face turned into a mad rictus that looked all too familiar. "Oh, I see. You again. It seems you never tire of getting in my way."

Everything happened so fast Tony barely even processed it. For a big guy, Thor could move quickly when he wanted to, and he was far closer than he'd been when they'd first started fighting in the forest. When Thor threw his hammer at Tony, Tony barely had the time to think 'Oh, shit'.

At the last moment, Loki shoved him out of the way. Both of them went flying, Tony because of Loki's push and Loki because of a certain hammer that made contact with his sternum.

There was a sickening crack as Loki hit the wall. Tony's shock turned to fury and he blindly scrambled for the armor.

He should have felt better when the suit finally engulfed him in the familiar metal embrace, but he didn't. He felt like the world was crashing down around him all over again. He was back in Allerdale Hall, with the mad Lucille waving a knife around, murdering Thomas before Edith could even try to do anything about it.

This time, though, Loki was a little more resilient. Sparks of green flickered around him, and he grunted, moving slightly, struggling to get to his knees.

They were also not alone. Frigga rushed to Loki's side, kneeling next to him. The guards were already taking the All-Daddy away and mostly seemed too fearful to intervene—or perhaps they simply didn't know what was happening—but she stood her ground.

"Thor, my son, you must think. You must breathe. This isn't who you are."

"I know who I am," Thor replied. "Don't get in my way. I killed a mother once, I won't hesitate to do it twice."

"Yeah, not happening, Point Break." Tony punctuated his words with a blast from the unibeam. "You want to get to them, you're going to have to go through me."

The unibeam sent Thor flying through the wall of the room, into the corridor. A green shield manifested around Frigga and Loki. Frigga bent over Loki, quickly working to tend to his wounds.

The guards finally seemed to remember themselves and surrounded Thor. Apparently, threatening the queen was serious business, and not even Thor could get away with that.

"Prince Thor, stand down!"

Thor roared at them—literally roared, like an animal. He hit the ground with his hammer and the ensuing shock wave sent all the guards flying. Tony was out of his reach, but only just. Fuck, this wasn't good.

Tony flew out of the queen's quarters, straight into Thor. He hated fighting like this—for all that the palace was spacious, it was still a closed building, and it encumbered his ability to fly. Unfortunately, he didn't have much choice. He needed to stall, at least until the Asgardians got more people to come help.

He didn't stay within Thor's reach—he knew better than that now. When Thor reached for him, he shot a repulsor blast to Thor's face and moved away. Thor's bellow seemed to shake the walls. The hammer came flying at Tony, and he only narrowly managed to dodge it.

Shit, without JARVIS around to help, this would be even harder than before. But Tony was not a quitter, he never had been. And this was for Loki. Tony had not managed to save Loki in their past lives. He would not fail again.

Mjolnir returned to Thor's waiting hand. Arcs of lightning surrounded Thor's body. The light traveled from Thor's eyes and engulfed every inch of him. And even if Tony had taken Thor's lightning once, he had a very bad feeling about this.

When the lightning came, it wasn't localized, like an actual lightning bolt. It was more like a shock wave, a scythe of pure energy. It tore Tony right out of the air and sent him crashing against the wall.

The suit wasn't too damaged—thank God for that—but Tony's luck didn't hold. Before he could recover, the lightning hit again, and this time, it wasn't something he could handle.

Tony had always known that not even his genius could solve everything. He had known that he'd been lucky during the battle in the forest. But this realization had never been clearer to him than at that moment, when the energy lit up his suit, short-circuiting his systems.

The arc reactor had its limits, as did Tony's very human body. Thor's lightning was just too powerful. Tony felt like he was burning from the inside out. The suit was crackling, shutting down. Soon, the reactor would go into overload.

With the corner of his eye, Tony caught sight of Loki and Frigga finally appearing into the corridor. Tony's mind instantly made the calculation. Arc reactor overload meant a massive explosion. It would take a good piece of the Asgardian palace with him. As ways to die, it wasn't that bad. He hated that he'd leave JARVIS, and Pepper and Brucey, but he'd made contingency plans when he'd come here. And at the very least, he'd take Thor with him.

The problem was that Loki was within blast radius too. Wildly, Tony tried to tell Loki to flee. "Run," he croaked out. "Go."

He didn't know if Loki heard him, because the lightning burned brighter, always brighter. At last, the glow became so intense it shattered Tony's resolve, and the painful, blinding white turned into the black of unconsciousness.

****

The spell had gone well.

Loki had not been able to tell Tony that, because Heimdall was always watching, but, all things considered, the spell had gone well.

Or so it had seemed, until Thor had burst in, and it became apparent that somehow, even with all the wards Loki's mother had in place, the Mind Gem had managed to awaken Thor's memories.

And now, here they were, and Thor was killing Loki's soul mate in front of him. Loki had gotten in the way the first time around, and his ribs were still cracked, despite his mother's quick assistance.

He only caught a brief glimpse of what was happening and then he was rushing forward, lunging at Thor. But his seidr was still weak and Thor was wild with bersekr rage. Loki didn't have a chance.

He did manage to distract Thor, which was something since it made Thor's lightning die out. The problem was that the only reason why he succeeded in this distraction was that Thor decided he had better things to do with his hands than wield the hammer at someone who seemed already dead. Loki knew that wasn't the case—knew it deep inside—but he also knew Tony's injuries were severe. And now, there was no possible way he could reach his mortal, because he was literally caught in Thor's arms.

The lightning still flared bright inside Thor, making his eyes glow ominously. "The day is won, brother. You are finally mine again."

Loki opened his mouth to protest, but unfortunately, he never got the chance. Thor took it as invitation to crush their mouths together. And they had kissed before, many times—in their lives as Thomas and Lucille—but never like this, never as Loki and Thor.

Loki wanted to struggle. His body, his mind, his whole sense of self—everything was screaming. He just wanted to go to Tony and fix this, help him somehow. But he was frozen.

He truly didn't know what would have happened had someone else not run straight into them and torn them apart. "I'll take it from here, I think," came the familiar voice of Captain America.

Loki blinked, dazed, trying to figure out what was happening. When his vision cleared, he saw Steve Rogers facing Thor, once again holding the shield as his weapon—much like he had in Stuttgart.

Thor didn't seem to care. "I remember everything, brother," he told Loki. "I remember our babe. We will find him again, just like you wanted. We will hold him once more, you will see. It will be just the three of us, the Kings of Asgard, and our heir, our prince. I will make it up to you."

"Sorry, dear uncle, but that's not going to happen," Steve Rogers replied in Loki's stead.

For a few seconds, the man out of time met Loki's eyes. His gaze flashed with something different, something distinctly reptilian, and Loki gasped, "Jor?"

Captain America smiled sheepishly. "Sorry I'm late. Seems like I slept through a lot of things I should have been doing."

His jaw set stubbornly, and Loki had a flash of a different world, a different cycle, a massive snake battling the last Thunderer—Loki's son falling to Thor before at last having the last proverbial laugh. Loki had hated himself so much then for not being able to protect Jormungandr, for somehow leading the world to a place where his beloved son was forced into such a position.

Not again. Never again.

"Jor, don't..."

But Steve Rogers—Jormungandr—was already moving, faster than was humanly possible, even for one who had received such enhancements. Loki's heart was torn in two. On one side, there was his son, and on the other his soul mate—both of them fighting for their lives.

Steve took the decision out of his hands. "Go. Help him. Help Tony."

There was something Steve could not say, not in this lifetime, but Loki heard it anyway. He knew Steve remembered and had understood who Tony had been for him in a different life. Help Tony. Help Mother.

Loki couldn't hesitate any longer. He made a choice. He turned toward Tony. He had to trust that his son knew what he was doing. Jor would not lose easily, not even to Thor in a bersekr rage.

On the other hand, Tony was dying. Loki knew that before he even knelt in front of the fallen mortal. The arc reactor was still glowing, but it put far too much strain on his body.

With frantic hands, Loki removed Tony's armor. The metal yielded under his Jotnar strength, but it didn't really help. He tried to summon his seidr, but Odin's shackles were still around his wrists.

Fortunately, his mother manifested by his side, carrying their solution. The golden apple was in her hand, sliced neatly into several pieces. "Come now, my son. We can still find our way out of this."

The sight of the prized fruit gave Loki strength. He took the apple from his mother and slowly brushed it against Tony's mouth, squeezing slightly. Some of the juice trickled over Tony's lips. Despite being unconscious, Tony instinctively drank it down.

Actually swallowing the apple would be far more difficult, but it was not Loki's first time feeding one of the fruit to an injured, unconscious man. He coaxed Tony's mouth open, helping him chew and swallow. His mother used her magic to smooth the way.

By the time he was done, Tony was out of danger, but still unconscious. Behind them, the battle was still raging. Much to Loki's surprise, Steve had Thor by the throat in a chokehold. Thor tried to escape, lashing out, shoving Steve against the walls, but Steve stubbornly held on. And Thor was already growing alarmingly purple. Even the thunderer needed to breathe.

When he saw Loki look at him, Thor let out a small broken gasp. "Brother... Our son. Please... I'm sorry..."

The lightning seemed to be dimming, the madness seeping out as Thor's energy drained. There was still something left of the Thor Loki had known, but Loki was too tired to think about that now.

"I didn't mean to... I didn't want to... Loki..."

Frigga was the one who stopped the painful scene. She went back to her quarters and retrieved Gungnir. Her hold on the weapon was tight, like she was in pain.

The spear was a symbol of Asgardian kingship, but it was also bound to the All-Father. Loki himself had encountered significant difficulties in wielding it during his brief stint on the throne. His mother had held it before, during her past regencies, but clearly, something was different now.

It didn't matter. Frigga straightened her back and lifted her free hand in Thor's direction. There was no need for theatrical pronouncements—Thor was beyond that. Mjolnir flew away from its owner, lighting up with familiar looking runes once in Frigga's hold. Next, Frigga pointed Gungnir at Thor and whispered a sleeping spell. Normally, it would not have worked, not with Thor in a bersekr rage, but this time—either because of Thor's fatigue or their mother's use of the spear—the Thunderer succumbed to her magic without protest.

As Thor slumped into Steve's arms, Steve let him down—or rather, unceremoniously dropped him. Steve was trembling with strain, bruised and bloodied, his skin scorched in places. Loki ached for him.

"It's fine," Steve said, as if guessing Loki's thoughts. "I'll be okay. The injuries aren't too bad."

Frigga let out a slow breath. "The healers, for all of you. Now."

Loki couldn't bring himself to protest. He picked Tony up—without his armor, Tony was so impossibly light. His mother had guards carry Thor along, and Steve trailed behind them, exhausted, but still just as stubbornly straight-faced and proud.

Loki didn't know where this left them. He didn't know where he stood with his son from a different life and his soul mate who was no longer the mortal he had been. He didn't even know what would happen to the All-Father.

What he did know was that this wasn't over yet. Oh, no, this was just beginning.

Asgard was not loyal to the throne, not truly. The Aesir were loyal to Odin, and to Thor. Loki had barely paid attention to the Aesir guards during the battle, but now that he thought about it, he realized they'd barely gotten involved.

And he would have thought it the wisdom of experience—they all knew a regular Aesir warrior could not stand to Thor's might, especially not when he was in a rage—if he had not seen the glares the Aesir threw at Steve.

The story was repeating itself. Once more, Loki's loved ones were becoming a target for Asgard's wrath. But this time, Loki would not let things end as they had the past cycle, or the past life.

For good or ill, he had been reunited with his soul mate and one of his sons. He had five more children out there. This time, Loki would not fail them.

Chapter Text

Steve Rogers had known something was not right ever since he'd first set foot on the Bifrost bridge. The moment he'd set his eyes on the man in the golden armor—Heimdall—he'd been invaded by a feeling of anger he had not expected.

Something about Heimdall put him on edge. Maybe it was his strange eyes, the way they seemed to look straight through Steve like he wasn't even there. Or maybe it was the way he glanced at Tony, with a sort of not-quite coldness that had Steve's hackles rising.

He had tried to remind himself he wasn't here to seek trouble. And really, there was time enough for everything to go wrong without him causing a conflict.

And then Sleipnir had happened. Steve had never liked Odin, but when he saw Odin with Sleipnir, the feeling of 'wrong, no, stop' slapped him straight in the face.

Steve knew hate. He'd hated Hydra, the Skull and Zola, not for their goals or their involvement in the war, but for Bucky. Sometimes, he hated himself because he hadn't been strong enough, fast enough to keep Bucky from falling, and because he hadn't been brave enough to live with it, for Peggy.

His hatred for Odin and all things Asgardian burned just as bright then. But he did nothing. He kept a lid on his temper, knowing that there was very little he could do to help.

After meeting with Frigga, the feeling grew more sedate, to the point that Steve thought he'd imagined it. And then Tony left for the spell, and Steve found himself pacing in the suite, shivering, cursing over and over for not insisting on going with them.

Tony was not defenseless. He had his armor, and Frigga was on their side. But Steve couldn't help but think something was very wrong, that any moment now, he would lose his friend.

And then the magic had hit and... Steve remembered.

He moved on instinct after that. It wasn't easy at first—the memories were overwhelming, almost too much, making his legs weak and clumsy. He wasted precious time reconciling the events of his life as a limbless serpent with the one as Steve Rogers. But something deep inside him had awakened, a sense of purpose, of knowing why he'd ended up here to begin with. The urgency of the moment anchored him in the present, and Steve won over his past self.

He had been a shield between Tony and Thor once. Maybe it should have ended that night. Maybe he should have seen it. He hadn't, but it was not too late. If Steve had any say, Thor would take his last nine steps before the day was over.

Of course, things couldn't possibly be so easy, and this was how Steve ended up in the Aesir healing wing, with several healers fussing over him. Rumors had already started to spread. Steve could hear the incomprehensible whispers buzzing somewhere outside. They knew he had fought and almost killed their prince. They couldn't understand how he had done it.

Fortunately, the conversation between Steve and Loki had been brief and if anyone had heard, they hadn't yet made the connection. But it would happen eventually.

Steve couldn't bring himself to care. He stared at the bed next to his own, where Tony still lay, unconscious.

Loki hovered by his side, looking between Tony and Steve, as if he wasn't sure how they were still there.

Loki. It was so difficult to look at him and to know, to remember... To know a different life.

Steve closed his eyes. He was still Steve Rogers, but he was also someone else. Not something—no, never something, no matter what the Aesir had said of him and his siblings.

But it was difficult not to let the power of his past self overcome what he was now. The memories weren't all coherent, and definitely not like his human recollections. They were different, registered through senses unfamiliar to his current shape. He remembered being able to bend his body around his parents, then around whole underwater mountains. He remembered seeing and hearing things as a reptilian, and in a strange way, it was affecting him.

Loki's hand landed on his own, cool and familiar. "Are you all right?"

"I don't know," Steve admitted easily. It had always been so easy to talk to Loki... Socializing hadn't been in his nature, but Steve, or rather, Jor had always been able to surpass that when around his father.

Loki glanced around and ushered the healers away. They didn't look convinced, but perhaps Frigga had told them to defer to Loki in this matter, because eventually, they complied.

Once the healers were gone, Loki turned toward him again. "I know this is difficult," Loki said. "Receiving such memories... They are not meant for human minds. I admit I have no idea how this could have happened. I should have sensed your soul when we met."

Steve thought about his earlier conversation with Tony, about the serum and what it had really done to him. "I didn't always look like this. It's possible that the experiment that gave me this body blurred your vision somehow."

"I should have still sensed it," Loki replied. "A body is meaningless. It is the soul that matters."

And wasn't that true, after all? Steve looked at the motionless Tony, and remembered a different time when he'd been irrationally angry.

He didn't know why Loki hadn't felt him, but he did know one thing. "He hasn't changed," he whispered.

Loki followed his gaze to Tony, and his expression softened. "He rarely does. In every lifetime, he is clever, brave and loyal."

"And incredibly reckless." Steve's nostrils flared and he clenched his fists. "She should have never done it. She should have never cast that spell."

Loki turned toward him again, frowning slightly. "Steve? What is it? Is this about..."

Steve appreciated Loki calling him by his current name—since that was who he was now—but yes, this was about his past life, his past cycle, and his deepest, darkest frustration. "Do you know why we weren't killed that day, on Jotunheimr?"

Loki took a step back, like he'd been struck. "I... No... I assumed... I don't know."

"It was Tyr who found us, you know. I don't think he was even sent by Odin, although Heimdall must have known. We took shelter in the Iron Wood, but there were so many of them... And they had dwarven help, dwarven weapons."

Loki hissed between his teeth. "Eitri. Of course."

"Mother tried to hold them back, but she just couldn't do it. And none of us were strong enough to stand against the Aesir. In the end, she placed us all in a circle. She said her magic would protect us... as long as she didn't have to use it at all."

Loki closed his eyes and clutched his chest, looking like he was in physical pain. He said nothing, but he didn't have to. Steve didn't have to either. The memories still weighed on him, clear as day—among the clearest, really.

He had been angry for so long, that his mother had taken his choice from him, that she had sacrificed herself to give them immortality, a sort of invulnerability against the might of Asgard. It was dark magic, and it had kept them apart for all the centuries that followed, until Loki's mind had finally broken under the strain of too much pain and betrayal, and Ragnarok had ensued.

Out of the three of Angrboda's children, he had been the one to have at least a level of freedom. Hel had been trapped in the Realm of the Dead and gradually twisted, becoming a shadow of her former self. And Fenrir... He didn't even want to think about it.

"It is not her fault," Loki finally said. "It is mine. I should have been there to protect you."

"It's not her fault or yours," Steve answered. It wasn't. In his heart, Steve knew that. Angrboda had done everything she could have. But that didn't make it any easier to accept.

"Oh, so that's why you hated my guts. I was a reckless, volatile idiot in every lifetime."

Steve looked at Tony, who at one point during their conversation, had stirred awake. He didn't really mind Tony eavesdropping, but Tony's response to it did bother him. He'd never hated Tony—it would have been impossible. He'd just been very angry, and the scepter had fed on that anger, the anger of a lifetime that ended a long time ago. "Tony! Don't say that. Ever."

Tony made a hrk sound, obviously surprised at this development. "Sorry. What happened?"

"Jor... Steve fought Thor," Loki reported. "It drained Thor enough that Mother managed to subdue him."

"Thank God. Or the Norns. Whatever." Tony groaned, sounding exhausted. "But I was sort of wondering why I'm still alive since I distinctly remember losing consciousness when the arc reactor began to overload. How come it didn't explode? How come I'm still alive?"

Steve couldn't help with that tidbit. He had been a little busy with Thor at the time. He knew Loki and Frigga had given Tony some Golden Apple to save his life, but as for the reactor... That, he had no answers for.

As it turned out, neither did Loki. "I am uncertain about the reactor. My first priority when I went to your side was to heal you, and we did this by feeding you one of the Apples of Idunn."

Tony's eyes suddenly glazed. "The Apples of Immortality..." He got up and stared at his hands, flexing his fingers. Weirdly, it almost seemed like he couldn't see them anymore.

Steve remembered how that felt like. When he'd first recalled his past lifetime, he'd had trouble adjusting to it too. The knowledge that he needed to help Tony and Loki had anchored him, brought him back to the present.

He wasn't sure Tony would be so lucky.

Loki sat on the edge of Tony's bed. He gently reached for Tony's hand, but didn't take it, only brushing their fingers together. "Tony? Can you hear me?"

Suddenly, Tony's eyes shot up. He looked at Loki, and his gaze was feverish, almost mad. "Loki," he sobbed. "I'm sorry. I tried. I tried to protect them. I'm so sorry."

He looked at Steve again, but this time around, it didn't seem like he saw Steve at all. "Jor, can you ever forgive me? I never wanted you to go through that kind of pain, my darling."

It was still Tony's voice, but the words belonged to someone different—to someone who should have been only a memory, but had apparently been buried deep with Tony's soul regardless. Loki grabbed Tony's chin and forced Tony to face him. He didn't say anything. He didn't tell Angrboda to let Tony's body go. Instead, he just hugged him/her, holding Tony/Angrboda close and petting his/her hair.

"We're fine. We're all fine. We'll be fine."

"Loki, you must get Hel. She is alone. She does not understand."

Steve opened his mouth to ask about Fen and the twins, but he didn't get the chance. Tony went limp against Loki, and something in the air seemed to shift.

Loki still held Tony close, but when he finally let go, he seemed to know it was no longer truly Angrboda he was looking at.

Tony confirmed that mere seconds later. "Uh... Well, that was trippy. Sorry. Did I freak you out?"

"A little bit, yes," Loki agreed. "I feared that the Apple had managed to break your mind while healing your body."

Tony shook his head. "No, it's fine. It was... It was just for a moment. She was always there, I think, a part of me. She wanted..." His eyes widened. "Shit! JARVIS."

"JARVIS?" Steve frowned. "What about him?"

"JARVIS carries Hel's soul," Loki said, a little dazed. "Of course. He's both alive and not, and he is your creation. Hel's power was very similar to JARVIS's own. How did I not see it until now?"

"You weren't exactly looking," Tony replied. "Anyway, we have to go back home. I suddenly have a bad feeling about what's been going on in our absence."

Loki nodded. "I will speak to Mother. She is tending to Thor. I believe she can arrange something for us."

"That'd be good, yeah."

Loki brushed a brief kiss over Tony's lips. Tony blinked in surprise. His eyes drifted shut and he wrapped his arms around Loki's neck, holding on tighter, refusing to let go.

It occurred to Steve then that Tony and Loki hadn't really gotten the chance to reunite properly. The only time they'd seen one another had been during the spell, and he doubted that had been conducive to displays of affection or intimate conversations.

Smiling fondly, Steve left his bed and slid out of the room. Loki and Tony deserved a few moments of privacy. After all, they'd had it pretty rough so far As far as Steve could tell, this cycle hadn't been easier on Loki than the past one, and he hadn't even had his soul mate. Not to mention that he'd been forced to deal with the crazed Thor.

Steve was officially a guest of the crown. Frigga had made that much clear. He was free to wander around this wing at will. It shouldn't be too hard to find the queen. Besides, Loki had not yet been cleared of charges in the eyes of all of Asgard, so it was better that he stay behind closed doors until that happened.

He did receive some long looks from the Aesir he ran into, but still, no one tried to stop him. In the end, he was the one to approach a healer and ask where he could find Queen Frigga.

The healer shot him a suspicious look, but she replied nonetheless. "I will take you to her, Captain. Please, follow me."

Steve did. It wasn't very far—and in truth, Steve would have probably been able to identify the chambers on his own, if only by the fact that there were several people waiting outside, pacing restlessly. Other than the guards, there were three men and a woman, and it wasn't difficult for Steve to guess the woman was Sif.

Naturally, she didn't quite look the same as in the past lifetime, but one thing had remained identical—the black hair. It seemed that, no matter how many times the world fell and started over, Loki and Sif would never get along.

They didn't know who he was, of course, beyond his identity as Steve Rogers. Sif scowled when she saw him and the healer approach. "Fulla? What is it?"

"The Captain wishes to see the queen," Fulla—the healer—replied. "I have been instructed to comply to his wishes insofar as it is possible."

The warriors didn't try to stop Fulla from entering Thor's room, but once she was gone, Steve became the target of several angry glares. "What did you do?" Sif snapped at him. "What did you do to Thor?"

"I didn't do anything to him," Steve replied calmly. Well, that wasn't exactly accurate. "I merely stopped him from his rampage. He almost killed his own brother and his mother. Someone had to step in."

The massive, bearded warrior—not someone Steve recognized—shook his head. "Thor isn't like that. This is some sort of trick of Loki's."

The dark-haired man who sort of looked Asian nodded. "It is the only explanation."

Before Steve could say anything to that, Queen Frigga emerged from the room. "Loki's powers have been bound since his return from Midgard," she said. She pressed her lips together, and her face was tight with anger. "This situation is already bad enough without your speculation. Lady Sif, Warriors Three, you are dismissed."

Sif opened her mouth, obviously intending to protest, but the blond-haired warrior intervened before she could do so. "Yes, my queen. Would it be possible to know Thor's condition before we go?"

"Thor is very sick," Frigga offered. "Eir is attempting to heal him, but we do not know yet if it will work. We will discuss the matter more at a different time."

She waved them off, and Sif and her companions had no choice but to leave. Once they were gone, Frigga turned toward him. "Captain. You wished to speak to me?"

"Yes, Queen Frigga. Can we go somewhere private?"

The queen led him to an empty room closer to Tony's than Thor's. She made an elaborate gesture toward the door—a spell for silence, if Steve's memory served him well. Once he was certain of their privacy, Steve said, "Tony woke up. He remembered some things from his past life. We need to go back to Earth."

"I thought as much. For the moment, I am needed with my husband and my sons, and there is much still to figure out when it comes to their condition. Tomorrow morning, I will assemble the Thing and will notify Asgard of the situation."

Steve could understand that. He didn't blame her for her priorities. But Steve was also worried about the bad feeling Tony had mentioned.

"We're just concerned about our friends. Tony seems to think there's something wrong on Earth."

Frigga hummed thoughtfully. "I will look into it personally, Captain. Should this be the case, I will start making arrangements to send you back to Midgard."

"Thank you, Queen Frigga. You've been very kind."

Frigga's smile was weak, but there. "If only that had been enough. Captain... I know this is a lot to ask, but I cannot find it in myself to discuss it with Anthony or Loki yet. I will, eventually, but for the moment..." She let out a heavy sigh. "My son... Thor's mind is broken. It is possible that the key to mending it would be the child he and Loki had during their mortal lifetime. I know Loki is searching for his children, but if you would..."

"I'll help in whatever way I can," Steve offered. He might not like Thor, but he could understand that Thor was still Frigga's child. And besides, Loki wanted to find that baby too, and in a way, he or she would be Steve's sibling. In a way.

"Thank you, Captain." Frigga suddenly seemed very tired. "I admit I never expected this when I agreed to that spell. My husband..." She shook her head, as if trying to push back the thoughts. "It matters not. I will not burden you with these issues. I take it Loki and Anthony are reuniting?"

"Yes. They needed some privacy."

"Then you can stay here and get some sleep as well, Captain. You are brave and I know you are trying not to show your wounds, but the battle with Thor was strenuous. Perhaps something to eat, then some rest? I assure you no one will disturb you, and should something happen, you will be notified."

Steve didn't really want to sleep knowing how many problems they still had, but he had to admit that he was pretty drained. Even with the serum in his system, going up against the God of Thunder had done quite a number on him. Frigga was right. He needed some rest, stat.

"Thank you, Queen Frigga. That would be very helpful."

She kissed his forehead, just like she had done with Tony earlier. "It's the least I can do."

For one brief moment, when she looked at him, Frigga's eyes glinted with some unreadable emotion. And then, she pulled away, once more the All-Mother. With one last nod, she slid out of the room, leaving Steve wondering about her, about the truth behind her tired smiles and her motives.

He had never understood Frigga—not in the past cycle, and not in this one. He probably never would.