Chapter Nineteen
Whatever Happened to Agent Coulson?
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Odin had aged since the time of his son's fall from the Bifröst. Thor could see that plainly enough as he told his father of what Loki had tried to do and the promise the crown prince had extracted from him afterward. Odin sank down onto the bench near the entrance to the dungeons; Thor had intercepted him on his way to answer the guard's alert that the heir to the throne had opened Prince Loki's prison. His father's single blue eye gleamed wetly. Odin's face had grown pale. He laced his fingers together tightly and simply stared at a blank space on the wall for what felt like hours. At last he ran a hand through his snow-white hair.
"He…tried to end his life?" The king curled his hand into a fist and pressed it tight to his pursed lips. He shook his head slowly. "No," he murmured. "No, Loki couldn't…he could not. Why would he do such a thing?"
Hating himself, Thor lifted his hands and dropped them back to his sides in a sign of helplessness. "He feels he has no reason to live, Father. Not with Thea and Sophie gone. He has sworn not to make such an attempt again before giving me the rest of his story, but after that…I know not what he may try. He believes you hate him."
Odin shook his head. "I am punishing him, but I could never hate my own son. What he did to Midgard—and to you, my son—cannot be forgiven so easily, but…how could he believe I do not love him? Does he feel the same about your mother?"
Thor sighed. "I don't know. His feelings for Mother are…complicated. He would do anything for her, I think. They have always been close. But Father, I think what doubts Loki has are being fed, enlarged, by the Chitauri."
Fury blazed in the sharp blue eye before quelling to smoldering embers. "The Chitauri? What influence do they have in Asgard?"
"I'm not certain, but Loki is hearing voices. Sophie crying as she dies. Thea screaming. And when these horrors cease, then he hears Thea pleading with him. Telling him to hold on, to wait for her to come to him…and sometimes trying to coax him into suicide."
Suicide. The word hung, heavy and ugly and sharp, on the air between father and son. Loki had tried to commit suicide. Would have ended his life in a flood of lethal red from cruelly opened veins if Thor hadn’t been there to stop him. How desperate and hopeless must Loki be, to attempt such a thing? And yet…wasn’t that exactly what he'd done when he let go of Gungnir's haft and allowed himself to fall from the Bifröst?
"Loki's eyes," Thor continued, trying to suppress the cold horror still churning in his belly, "are constantly changing color, and the change is too drastic for it to be the light. When he hears these voices, his eyes turn blue—the same blue as the tesseract, and the stone that powered the staff which the Chitauri gave Loki when he led the invasion into Midgard. When his moods suddenly shift like quicksilver, or when his rage gets the better of him, his eyes are almost always that same blue. Father, I believe the Chitauri are manipulating him, trying to drive him mad."
"But why? What can he do, imprisoned in that cell? He's half-mad already. What good would it do these monsters?"
Don't you know? Chitauri power, their technology and their seiðr, is fueled by blood and pain. Agony resonates with their power. Anguish and despair feed it, make it stronger. The Chitauri are a parasite that feed on bloodshed and pain.
"They might be feeding off of him," Thor realized. Seeing Odin's baffled expression, he explained what Loki had told him about the ways of the Chitauri. "Fueling their power with his misery. They may not mean to drive him to his death—that may simply be that Loki cannot endure all they mean to force on him—but his agony and grief…they're feeding on it. Like parasites. Enhancing it so there is more to draw on."
Dismay twining with sick rage in his father's Cyclopean gaze, Odin nodded. "Yes. I had heard such things of them, but didn't know if they were truth or merely rumor. If they are feeding on my son and his pain…they will suffer for it."
Something was niggling at Thor's brain, something tangential to the conversation. The Chitauri fed on blood and pain. Their seiðr required such to work. And Loki had said something once about spells, the similarity between illusion and…and something. He couldn’t quite remember. And for some reason, Thor was also reminded of when his little brother had spoken of the delayed message of hope that had arrived too late. There was something whispering and tickling at the back of the prince's mind, but it wouldn't solidify into a solid thought. The more he tried to grasp at it, the more slippery it became, until it finally flitted away.
"I will put extra shields around the tesseract," Odin murmured, "in the event that the Chitauri are using it to hurt your brother. And I will speak to Eir and see if she might know of something to ease Loki's suffering. Do you believe he will permit a healer to attend him and see to his injuries?"
"I doubt it…unless Mother asked him to do it," Thor said when inspiration suddenly struck. "He would do anything for her, including that. It will be difficult for her to see him as he is now, but if she asked that he submit to a healer's attentions, I believe he would."
Odin nodded, looking weary to his bones. "I will speak to her of it. For now, my son, it is late. You and I both need our sleep. Come. And Thor?" The prince paused, watching the king with raised brows. "It was reckless of you to go into Loki's cell as you did…but I am most glad that you did it. Thank you, my son."
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Though he'd gone to bed late, Thor woke abominably early from dreams of find Loki's corpse, wrist-veins gaping and gasping for the blood his little brother had spilled in desperation and despair. When the Asgardian opened his eyes, he was momentarily disoriented by the darkness. Then he realized the sun had yet to even rise. His rooms were bitterly cold from the winter chill; the solstice was not far off. Dressing hurriedly, the prince shoved his feet into boots to protect them from the vicious, icy bite of the stone floor and went in search of breakfast.
He found it—and Tyr, looking unusually morose—seated at one of the long tables in the banqueting hall. Seeing his elder brother reminded him that there was something he needed to ask of Tyr in light of the previous night's events. Wondering if he were making a mistake, Thor took a seat beside his elder brother. A serving maid, yawning on her feet, brought him a platter of sausage and other meats, as well as fresh bread and a flagon of hot mulled cider.
"Good morning, little thunderer," Tyr mumbled, sipping from his own mug. Thor caught the rich scent of his brother's favorite ale. A small smile tugged at Tyr's lips. "How are you this fine, frigid morning?"
Thor shrugged. "Well enough." Only Tyr ever got away with calling Thor "little thunderer," a nickname the younger prince had earned when he'd picked up Mjölnir for the first time as a small boy. He'd had help, of course; Mjölnir was too heavy even for the mighty Thor to lift at that age. It had always been a fond memory, though somewhat embarrassing, and one of the only memories Thor still had from that long ago…
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"Now wrap your fingers around the haft, good and tight. Just like that. A warrior must know how to treat his weapons." Odin beamed at his son, ruffling the lad's golden hair, which made it stand up in wild tawny spikes. "Can you lift it yourself?"
Thor tried, he really did, but the hammer was just so heavy. The young prince frowned at the hammer, but didn't kick it out of revenge—even though he desperately wanted to. Stupid Myeh-Myeh. Didn't it know it was supposed to let him pick it up? He was the prince! But if the hammer wouldn’t let him, he knew a way to get some help. Looking around, blue eyes lit upon a slender figure in dark green and white walking next to Tyr, Thor's elder brother. Thor waved.
"Loh-ee!" Frowning, the prince tried again. "Loki!" He always had trouble with the cuh-sound in his twin brother's name for some reason. He couldn’t understand it. "Loki! Come here!"
"Thor!" Loki jogged over, grinning at his twin. "What're you doing?"
"Trying to lift Myeh-Myeh." Thor glanced surreptitiously at his father, who was watching with that smile on his face that said Thor was doing something funny. Thor wasn't trying to do anything funny, and he didn't want his father to laugh, so he lowered his voice. "Will you help me?"
Loki's eyebrows rose and his eyes widened. He looked over his shoulder to see if his twin was talking to Tyr, but Tyr was several paces away, watching with the same smile their father had. Loki looked back at Thor. "Me?"
Thor nodded. "I need your help. Will you help? It's heavy."
"Well, 'course it is," Loki said, as if that should be obvious. He frowned at the hammer, his thin brows pushing together as he bent over to give it a closer look. "It's Myeh-Myeh. It's s'posed to be heavy." Green eyes flicked to Odin, who merely watched his sons, then settled on Thor's blue eyes full of pleading. Loki smiled. "Yes. I'll help."
The two boys wrapped their hands around the haft of Mjölnir and strained with all their might to lift it up. Slowly, slow, it began to rise from the floor. Childish arms quivered with strain and the boys groaned with effort as a hair's breadth of empty space appeared between Mjölnir and the floor. Loki and Thor glanced at each other, panting for breath, then set their narrow shoulders and heaved with all their strength, trying to lift the hammer. The breath of space between hammer and floor widened just a touch.
"We got it," Thor panted. "Look!"
"Look, Father!" Loki cried.
And then a booming crack of thunder rattled the Treasure Room. Seiðr flooded through Mjölnir and another peal of raucous thunder exploded through the room. Thor and Loki, already precariously balanced, jumped at the sudden eruption of noise and lost hold of the hammer. It clanged to the floor with a hollow sound. Thor grabbed hold of Loki.
"Thunder," Thor whispered. He hated storms. Hated getting rained on—it made his hair look like a girl's—and hated lightning hitting the trees and hated the deafening peels of thunder. He especially hated the thunder. It sounded like Frost Giants playing nine-pins. He hated Frost Giants. They came into your room in the middle of the night, stole you away, and cooked you in their stewpots.
Loki put his arms around his twin. "It's just thunder. It can't hurt you. It's just loud."
"Hurts my ears."
"Don't be scared, little thunderer," Tyr called from behind them. Both young boys turned to their brother. Tyr was almost a grown-up. He was also the crown prince, which just meant he'd be king when Father didn't want to be anymore. He had black hair like Loki's, but blue eyes like Thor's. Both little princes adored him. Thor couldn’t stand it when Tyr teased him about being scared of things. "That's what happens when a warrior of the royal family lifts Mjölnir."
"He's not scared," Loki said matter-of-factly, like they were talking about the weather or something. "Thor's braver than anybody. He just doesn't like thunder. Don't be mean to him. You don't like spiders, but we don’t be mean to you."
Tyr rolled his eyes. "Whatever you say, bookworm. Did you want to learn to play chess or not?"
Loki glanced at Thor. "Wanna come?"
Thor wrinkled his nose. "Chess is for girls."
"Father plays chess."
"So does Mumma," Thor reminded his twin. "She plays it with Eir all the time."
Loki shrugged. "Then it's for everybody. Even you. Come on. We'll be a team and defeat Tyr. Just like yesterday with the snowball fight."
Their older brother snorted. "I let you both win. If I'd beaten you, you would have started crying like babies."
"Loki," Thor whispered, aghast. "He called us babies. We have to beat him now."
The green-eyed prince nodded, giving Tyr a measuring look. "Yes, we do. We'll show him. No one can beat us at anything."
"Except Father," Thor murmured, gesturing to that esteemed personage, who was busy laughing to himself on the bench where he'd been sitting during the entirety of the conversation. Loki shrugged.
"Father doesn't count. He's Father."
Thor considered this for a moment, then nodded. "To war, then!"
"To war!" Loki echoed, grabbing his twin's hand and thrusting both their hands in the air. "For Asgard!"
"For Asgard!"
"I live in Asgard, too," Tyr reminded them, but he knew they weren’t listening, so he gave up after that token protest and led them to the gaming room where their little "war" would commence, leaving Odin laughing behind them at the antics of his sons.
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Tyr nudged Thor with his elbow, jarring him from the old memory. He and Loki had been an inseparable team then. What had happened?
"Did you want something, Thor, or were you just hoping to enjoy my company?" His brother smiled at the crown prince. Tyr's eyes were bloodshot. Had he been out all night drinking, wenching, and gambling? Thor frowned. That didn’t sound like the eldest prince. Tyr enjoyed carousing—perhaps more than he should have—but he never stayed out all night.
"I wanted to speak to you," Thor said, giving away none of his thoughts. "About Loki."
Tyr gave him a sharp look and growled, "I have nothing to say regarding that treacherous piece of Frost Giant sc—"
"Loki tried to commit suicide last night," Thor said softly, and Tyr's mouth snapped shut with an audible click of teeth. The eldest prince stared the heir with wide, disbelieving eyes. "I do not care at this moment how you feel about him, whether you're merely angry, or whether you truly hate him as you seem intent on convincing me. I don't care. I am telling you that you will leave Loki completely alone for now. The slightest push could send him over the edge. If that happens, do you want to be the one to explain to Mother why you drove her son to suicide?"
Tyr's mouth moved soundlessly for several seconds before he managed to make a sound. Blinked dazedly, he shook his head and whispered, "Suicide? Why?"
Thor swallowed hard. "Why does any man? Because he feels he has nothing left to live for. I know not whether you care for Loki at all, but unless you wish his death—"
"He's my brother," Tyr whispered. "A traitor and a Frost Giant, but…but you cannot think I don't love him. The man we knew may be dead, replaced by that monster, but he is still my brother. Bor's ghost, it isn't as if I want him dead."
"You torment him as if you hate him."
"He had everything I wanted," Tyr spat, eyes blazing like the blue heart of a flame. "Everything. The crown, Mother's approval, her trust. Father's trust. Everything I wanted and lost, he had it! They gave it all to him, and he wasn’t even of our blood. And then what does he do? He throws it away. I have every right to be furious with him for that, and for what he did to you, but he is still my little brother. Traitor, murderer, coward, liar, thief, but still my brother. How dare you think I would wish him harm?"
One golden brow rose. "After the way you spoke to him, you can ask me that?"
The older Asgardian scowled. "I was angry. And he called me a swine."
"You called his wife a whore," Thor said coolly, and was rewarded by a startled jerk of Tyr's hand that spilled half his mug of ale on his plate of breakfast meats. Blue eyes met blue eyes. Thor waited.
"His wife? That woman, the one he draws…she is his wife?" Tyr took a swallow of ale, then seemed to think better of it and drained his mug. Slamming it down on the table, he muttered, "I would not have said that if I'd known who she was. A sporting woman is one thing. A wife is another. I didn't know." Tyr raked a hand through his dark hair. "So where is she, this sister of ours that I knew nothing about?"
Thor sighed. "Dead."
Tyr's eyes widened in shock. "Dead?" His gaze turned inward, and he nodded as if something had been confirmed. "No wonder he grew so enraged. Dead. How?"
"The Chitauri. They murdered her and Loki's daughter the day he was captured on Midgard." Understanding and dismay crystallized in Tyr's gaze and Thor nodded. "Leave Loki be for now, Tyr. He is more fragile than any of us realized."
"You have my word," the eldest prince vowed softly. "Thank you for telling me this."
"Thank you for listening."
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Sparring with Sif and the Three didn’t help with Thor's restiveness—perhaps because he could see the questions flickering in their eyes, demanding he answer them. So after working himself into a lather with his friends, he went to see Heimdall, to ask about any progress made by his friends on Midgard.
Standing on the edge of the Bifröst, looking out into the beautiful vastness of space, Thor murmured, "What do you see, Heimdall?"
The Gatekeeper didn’t turn toward his prince; merely stood, broad shoulders straight and head held high as he surveyed the Nine Realms and beyond with his powerful eyes. His deep voice rumbled in his chest when he said, "I see the Man of Iron and the scholar you call Banner searching for the information you requested. Anthony Stark speaks to a powerful mortal known as Dr. Henry McCoy over the phone, asking about the woman Prince Loki has spoken of. Banner speaks to another powerful mortal, Eric Lenscher. The woman known as Pepper is studying information about money and travel; it is related to their search in some way."
Thor nodded. He'd known his friends would be hard at work, doing as he'd asked. So the prince asked the question he always asked when he spoke to Heimdall. "Can you see Jane?"
Heimdall nodded. "She still searches for you. She has not given up hope." At last the Gatekeeper turned to Thor. "Nor have you given up hope of seeing her again…or of somehow healing Prince Loki's mind and heart. But his words have cast shadows across your heart, my prince. You do not trust me as you once did."
He hesitated, then sighed. "Why did you allow Sif and the Three to go to Midgard after me, when my father and Loki had forbidden it?"
"I feared your brother meant to assassinate the king while he remained in the Odinsleep," Heimdall murmured. "I feared he would be a threat to Asgard if left unchallenged."
"Did you ever think I might be a threat to Asgard?"
Heimdall said nothing for a time, but then whispered, "Yes."
"Why did you choose me over Loki? Why did you believe him to be the greater danger?"
"Because he hid himself from me. You never did."
Thor frowned. "I don't understand. What has that to do with it?"
"I could neither see nor hear your brother while he was going about his plans. I did not know what he might bring down on Asgard. I had no way to prepare for whatever threats might come. You had not the skill to hide yourself from me. Any danger you brought to this Realm, I would be able to see, and thus prepare."
"Why did you think Loki would hurt Father?"
"Why else bring Frost Giants into Asgard? Why bring Laufey himself here?"
Thor met Heimdall's burning gold eyes and said, "To do exactly what he did—eliminate a threat to the Realm. Do you regret what you did?"
The Gatekeeper's face remained expressionless as he repeated, "Regret?"
The prince nodded. "If you had kept Sif and the Three from leaving Asgard, none of what occurred after they left would have happened. Do you ever wonder about that? If you had done just one thing different, all would be different. Does that make you regret?"
"Sometimes," Heimdall replied softly. "You may remember that Loki was once a regular visitor to the Bifröst Gatehouse when he was young. We would talk often of the Realms and the stars and all the worlds beyond Yggdrasil. You ask, do I regret what my young friend has now become? I do. Do I regret my part in it? Yes. Perhaps I should not have allowed your friends through the Bifröst. Perhaps if I hadn't, even worse things would have come about because of my inaction. I do not know."
After thinking about this for a few minutes, Thor nodded slowly. "Nor do I. We can only do what we can with what we know. Ignorance is a weakness the Gatekeeper of Asgard cannot permit himself, is it, Heimdall? You were chosen for your ability to see the Realms with your hawk's eyes, to hear the life pulsing through it with your fox's ears. I cannot imagine what it would be like, to suddenly lose that ability. To not know if someone you'd always trusted meant to destroy everything you loved."
Heimdall nodded. "Yes. But you speak not only of me, my prince. You speak of Loki…and of you. If what Loki has told you is truth, you could not know it then. You are not to blame for the death of the woman and child mourned by the prince."
"You have regrets, Heimdall," Thor murmured, "and so do I. My regret is somehow making Loki think I was someone he could not trust when he needed me most. How would things have changed if he had asked for my help? If I'd tried to rescue Thea and Sophie? Would my brother be the tortured wreck that he is?"
"We cannot know, my prince. You can only try to make it right by him now."
Thor sighed. "Make it right…if I can. Heimdall, can you see the Chitauri?"
"No, my prince."
"If they were in Asgard…if anything of theirs came here…would you be able to see it? Sense it?"
The Gatekeeper hesitated. "I do not know for certain. Why do you ask this?"
"I think the Chitauri might still be influencing Loki. If they have a foothold here, I need to know. If such a thing exists, you must find it, Heimdall. I have spoken of this to my father and he agrees—the Chitauri cannot be allowed to use my brother any longer. Will you keep watch?"
"I will," Heimdall replied. Thor nodded his thanks, then turned to walk back toward Asgard. It was nearly time to speak to Loki again. But before he'd taken more than a dozen steps, the Gatekeeper's rich voice arrested him. "The king knows, and you ought to be told—the svartálfar are gathering in the heart of Svartálfheimr."
Thor turned slowly back to Heimdall. "The Dark Elves? They are gathering again?" The last time the Elves of the Dark World had gathered together, it had resulted in a war with Asgard that had left thousands dead. Their leader, Malekith, had sworn revenge on Odin…and it was rumored that the Dark Elf had a reason to despise the Asgardian queen even more than the All-Father, though no one but Odin and Frigga knew if this were true or not, and they would not speak of it.
Heimdall nodded. "They mean to war on us again. Because of the shattered Bifröst, there is little we can do besides prepare our defenses. We cannot take the conflict to them as we might have in the past. However," here Heimdall's fiery gaze turned back to the cosmos stretching out before him, "there is someone in that shielded mortal stronghold who I believe is working on a way to create another Bifröst."
"Another Bifröst?"
"It is merely a fleeting impression, but I believe that is something you should look into when you and Prince Víðarr journey to Midgard again, my prince."
Numbly, Thor nodded. Another Bifröst. Who on Midgard could possess the necessary knowledge to create such a thing? "I will," he mumbled to Heimdall, and moved off in search of Loki.
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"How are you feeling, Loki?" Thor asked gently when he approached his brother's cell. The younger prince lay on his cot, eyes closed, but Thor knew Loki didn’t sleep. "Have you had any rest since last night?"
"I dreamed of her," Loki whispered. The thin, dark brows drew together as he took in a long breath and let it out in a ragged sigh. "I lay my head in her lap and she asked me why I was so sad. I tried to tell her that I missed her, that living without her bore down on me like the sea smashing against rock and pounding it to dust…and she smiled and asked me, 'Why is the moon so lonely?'"
Thor raised a brow. "The moon?"
A small smile tugged at the corner of Loki's mouth. "It was a story she used to tell me during the two months after the Chitauri took us out of that festering hell-pit. She learned it from her art teacher. The Chitauri left us to…recover in that grand suite of rooms for nearly two moons. It was another of their tortures, though we didn’t know it at the time. They left us to stew in fear and dread, wondering when Thanos would summon us, with no contact beyond each other. They thought it would strike fear in our hearts. Fools."
"What did it do?"
"It gave us a chance to recover, to heal. Thea actually gained some weight, and I stopped fearing for Sophie—in that regard, at least. It came to the point when I could no longer count Thea's ribs when she dressed in the mornings, and I was glad. We kept track of time using Thea's cell phone, which was brought to her on the fifth day. We emerged from the bathing room to find her things deposited on the table along with our breakfast. Her phone battery was half-depleted by that point, but she only turned the device on occasionally to track the date. It was how she kept track of time in our prison.
"Thea grew stronger, healthier. My magic slowly collected within me, like water in a cistern. I used a little bit every day to check on Sophie, to strengthen the shield around her, but the rest I hoarded for when we planned to make our escape.
"For a long time, we slept a great deal. It was so good to be able to sleep with her in my arms; I didn’t fear discovery any longer, because we had already been discovered. It was so good to fall asleep with the weight of her on my chest and her breath against my neck. Sometimes, even now, I wake thinking I feel the kiss of her breath on my skin. In the dream last night, I could feel it. I could feel her."
Loki's hands scrunched in the fabric of his green tunic and he whispered, "I would give anything to feel her fingertips against my face as I did in that dream. You see, Brother, the moon is lonely because she once had a lover, but through guile and trickery, he was lost to her…just as my moon, my Althea, lost me…or as I lost her, through Chitauri cunning and cruelty. I was a fool. If only I had managed to convince Banner…"
Thor jolted. "Banner? What about him?"
"We needed him," Loki replied without looking at his brother. "Thea and I. We didn’t want the beast that makes play he's still a man. We needed the man, the healer. If I had been able to bring him to my side, I might have been able to save Thea and Sophie. He might have been able to find a secondary antidote to the Chitauri poison."
"You wanted Banner for Thea?"
"He's a doctor," the green-eyed prince replied. "Didn’t you know that about your old comrade? I discovered when I took control of the mortal archer that SHIELD knew of a brilliant Midgardian healer named Bruce Banner, who spent his time tending the stricken in vicious epidemics all over the world. If this man would do such for people he didn't know, surely he would do so for me. Because the antidote the Chitauri gave me for the cumulative poison they slipped into Thea's veins came with too high a price."
Cumulative poison, Thor thought, chilled. No wonder Loki hadn’t been able to escape as he'd intended. Such poisons were nearly impossible to detect, and one a victim had been poisoned, their bodies required that poison—or its antidote—in order to survive. If it was a Chitauri poison, Loki wouldn’t have been able to obtain and give it to Thea to aid in their escape.
Yet he'd said he'd had an antidote. What price could be too high, when his brother was willing to sacrifice an entire Realm for Thea's sake? "And what was the price?"
"Sophie's life," Loki whispered. Thor's throat went dry, his chest tight. "The antidote would have killed our child in the womb. I…I didn't know what to do when the Chitauri told me what they'd done—given Thea a poison that would kill her if they didn’t either administer the antidote or continue feeding her the poison itself.
"Thea was more than four months with child by then, and we had already begun to…to communicate with Sophie through Thea's gift. She could feel Sophie's emotions through her talent. She was reading her memories of us…I can hardly explain it. She was aware of us, of Thea and me. Somehow. Through seiðr of her own, I think. Even then, so young and small, she was aware of us. I don’t know how. Perhaps it was the combination of my magic and Thea's powers.
"I'm not sure, but…but we knew her, even then, and when the Chitauri told us what they had done to make sure I could not betray them without sacrificing my daughter, I…I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t lose my only child when I already loved her so much, and I couldn't lose Thea. And so I hoped to find someone on Midgard—Thea's favored Dr. McCoy, if possible—who could make another antidote that wouldn’t hurt Sophie. But then I learned of the famous Dr. Banner and knew it would be easier to deceive the Chitauri about why I wanted him than if I tried to contact Dr. McCoy.
"But things didn't go quite as I had hoped, and the staff kept dragging at my attention, making it so hard to think clearly. It fueled the rage and the fear in me until I thought I would choke on them, until I thought I must vomit them up or cut them out of me if there was to be anything of me left after the storm of them. When they first taught me to use the staff, it was the same. I would return to my rooms, and Thea would be there waiting…"
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Two months of waiting to be summoned, only to be told that Thanos had decided to have the Other instruct Loki in the ways of Chitauri seiðr. There had only been a brief mention of Thea—that the newest Chitauri general could continue to take his pleasure in his lovely young mate, so long as he obeyed Thanos' edicts. Through gritted teeth, Loki spat his agreement. And then the lessons began.
Now he trudged back to his chambers, ignoring the drones chittering and hissing in their sick, twisted language. Fury pounded through his veins like hot, black poison in time with his thundering heart. He tasted fear, like the copper-salt tang of blood, on the back of his tongue. Spasms shuddered through his hands as they convulsed around the golden handle of the Chitauri staff, which glowed a sinister blue in the dimness of the corridors.
The moment the doors of his suite slid open, Loki flung the staff as hard as he could against the wall. It clanged against the wall before striking the floor. The mazarine stone held in the glittering spikes at the head of the staff still glowed sullenly from the spot where it had fallen behind Thea's packs.
Thea watched him from where she sat by a holographic window. When Loki had informed the Other in acid tones that his wife and unborn child required actual sunshine in order to remain healthy, the Chitauri had installed the window. It wasn’t real sunlight and moonglow and starshine, but it was enough to help restore the rest of the healthy color to Thea's skin.
Now a full, silvery moon beamed through the window behind his wife. Her hands rested on the small curve of her belly. After four months, that curve was one of his favorite things to touch. It was one of the few things he had to look forward to after being worked like a slave by the blind creature that served Thanos—coming back to these rooms, laying his hands and cheek against his wife's belly, and using a few drops of magic to inspect their unborn child.
But not today. Today, the half-insane rage pulsing in his blood threatened to blind him. A black spot throbbed in the corner of his vision. His breath whistled through his teeth. Damn them. Damn them all. When could they get out of this place? He had to take Thea and leave as soon as possible or he would go mad in the darkness saturated with hate. Only this candlelit room served as a refuge against the hellish Chitauri warrens, and this time, it wasn’t enough.
"Loki—"
"Be quiet," he growled, turning away from her. "Just…don't speak. Just wait." He went to the wall and without a hitch in his stride slammed his fist into the wall over and over again. Thea made a small sound and covered her mouth as Loki rammed his fist into the wall until his knuckles bled and throbbed. Then he stopped, dropping his forehead against the wall, and merely breathed for a moment. "All right," he whispered at last.
"What happened?" Thea asked gently. "Do I need to take a sledgehammer to the deranged Cyclops with leprosy? Because I can do that. Or I can turn him into a flea."
He huffed a strangled laugh. "A flea?"
"Yeah. A harmless little flea. Then I can put that flea inside of a box, and then put that box inside of another box, and then mail that box to myself. And when it arrives—this is the best part—I'll smash it with a hammer. It's brilliant, I tell you."
"Genius."
"I know, right? Aren't you glad I'm on your side? Who else loves you to sparkly confetti bits? Not Captain Leprosy out there, that's for sure. Although you know, that might cost a lot in postage, so to save money I can just rip him into little pieces with a rusty wooden spork."
Loki turned his head a fraction to look at her and raised an eyebrow. "Wood doesn't rust."
"Shhh. I'm threatening the people who irritate you. My spork is magical, thank you. I got it from a pair of leprechauns in a Brooklyn drag bar. It's a magical wooden spork that rusts specifically to infect people with incurable super-tetanus. So let me spork them to death. Let me find my spork. Where's my spork?" She straightened up and started to get to her feet, only to pause and smack the wall with the flat of her palm. Her eyes widened. "Oh, my…oh. Oh, my gosh. Whoa."
He immediately went to her. "What is it? Is it the baby?" Loki put his arm around her, placing his hand against her belly. "What's wrong?"
She grabbed his hand and moved it over by about an inch. Something thumped softly against Loki's palm. Green eyes snapped wide and he stared, mouth agape, as the baby kicked very lightly against his hand. Thea grinned happily.
"She's kicking," Thea whispered. "Loki, she's kicking."
Loki sank to his knees and placed his palms on either side of her belly. "She is. Oh, hello, little one. You can kick me all you like, sweet darling."
"You shouldn’t tell her that," Thea informed him with a smile. "She'll beat the crap out of you after she's born."
"I am a prince of Asgard," Loki said loftily. "I fear nothing."
"She's going to stomp all over you," his wife said sweetly. "It will be hilarious. She's going to jump on you and smush you and she'll do a tap-dance on your chest and it will be awesome. I'll record it on my phone and show it to your brother when we finally meet him—whenever that is. He'll see you get owned by a squidgy little baby. She's kicking you again."
He nodded dreamily. All the rage had disappeared, leaving only sweet wonder behind. "She's a miracle, Thea."
"Yeah, wait until we can't have sex anymore because I'm so fat. See if you think she's a miracle then." When Loki opened his mouth, Thea added, "This had better not be you telling me that you can forego sex in order to see me turned into Shamoo."
"Älskling, I would find you appealing no matter what you looked like. After last night, you should know that."
"Smooth. Very smooth. But you were upset about something before Sophie started her little dance routine. What's wrong?"
Loki sighed. "I was…angry."
"Yeah, I can see that. Your hand's bleeding," she said softly. Loki wasted a dash of magic to heal his oozing knuckles and throbbing bones. "You beat the crud out of the wall. If it had teeth, it would be picking them up off the floor. What did the poor wall ever do to you?"
"The wall had it coming."
She nodded. "I gotcha. It was breathing your air. The nerve."
He laughed softly and laid his cheek against her belly. He actually felt the baby pushed against his cheek, a sliding motion as if Sophie were trying to soothe him, too. Did she have some of Thea's empathy already? Could his daughter feel his distress? But all Loki said was, "I must use that…object because the Other demands it, but I can hardly bear to touch the wretched thing. It sickens me to use that tainted seiðr. It sets the darkness in me ablaze with hatred and I can scarcely control it. I find myself thinking such vicious things about…well, everyone. Except you and Sophie."
Thea ran her fingers lightly through his hair. It was a comfort he hadn’t known before their wedding night; her fingers combing through the thick dark hair as she kissed him, soothed him. "You need Prozac. When we get to Earth, I'll get you some Prozac. And some therapy. We'll drug you up with Prozac and triple-fudge brownies until you're higher than a kite on sugar. We'll get chocolate-wasted together."
Chuckling softly, Loki pulled back far enough to look up at her. "I adore you. Utterly. You and her," he added, glancing at Thea's stomach. "The two of you are all that make this bearable."
"We'll get out of here," Thea whispered. "Eventually. We'll have a prison-break and burn the whole place down like in that Alice Cooper song. 'School's out for the summer! School's out forever!' We'll totally bust out of here, babe. I know we will. Although you do realize that you'll be trading one form of slavery for another."
Loki arched an eyebrow. "Oh, indeed?"
"She's already got you wrapped around her little finger," she informed him. "She has those, you know. Fingers. And toes. Do you think her toes are cuter than mine?" Thea wiggled the aforementioned appendages. "I'd have to be jealous of anyone but Sophie if you thought my toes didn’t rate first place in the Cuteness Contest. Ow." Silver-blue eyes glared down at her belly. "Those were my ribs you just smacked with your little head, young lady. Well, now we know she's related to you."
"Because she has a hard head like my brother's?"
"Yep. Here that, Sophie-girl? Just like Uncle Thor. Now come on," Thea added to Loki, taking his hand. She tugged him to his feet. "Come have dinner. We'll make fun of Captain Freakazoid's icky face while we eat. On second thought," she made a face, "no. We won't. That's gross. We'll talk about what our girl's been up to today. Do you know, it's a good thing this isn't a hotel, because this one," Thea pointed at her stomach, "eats like a teenage boy.
"Oh, hey, pickles. Ohmigawsh, I love pickles. I used to hate pickles but someone, who shall remain nameless—Sophie—has taken control of my brain with her nefarious baby mind-control and she's making me eat pickles and they taste so good, Loki. I will die if I don't eat all these pickles. So good. Ambrosia. 'Scuse me while I talk with my mouth full. So I found out my voice is only acceptable for singing lullabies when you aren't here."
Dropping into the chair beside Thea's, he raised his eyebrows in exhausted inquiry. "Oh? How can you be sure?"
"Um, because she head-bangs against my spleen if I try to sing to her when you're not out being trained to be the next Charles Manson. When you're gone, if I hum or sing, she just does that little wiggle-worm dance she does when she's happy. If you're here, I get beat up by someone half the size of a curled-up loaf of bread. Or maybe a small boot."
She rubbed her belly. "You're a cute boot, Sophie. Ow! Okay, you're not a boot. Ow! Okay, okay, I'm eating the pickles, jeez. And yes, I know, Daddy sings better than me. But Daddy's tired, so…why am I eating a salad made out of raspberries, sliced pickles, cheese, croutons, and candied orange slices? Where did the Chitauri even get these? I'm living in the Twilight Zone. Oof. That was my pancreas you just face-smacked, thank you, Pop-tart. Here, look, I'm eating the freaky salad you like so much. Yes, I know you can't see through the walls of my uterus, deal with it. Quit hitting me."
Loki chuckled. What made this even more amusing was that he knew Thea had these one-sided conversations with their unborn child even when he wasn't here. "My mother made similar complaints when she carried my younger brothers," he said. "It is the Asgardian way. We…they bear strong offspring."
Thea swallowed her bite of raspberry and pickle. "Frost Giants have epic babies, too. I should know, I've got a half-Frost Giant kidlet playing the bongos in my stomach right now. She got the best of both worlds. So, after we eat our stale bread crusts and broccoli…mmm, broccoli. What was I saying?"
"That it's difficult for you to think about anything other than food now that you're carrying my child?"
Playfully, she stuck her tongue out. "You're the one who knocked me up and got my Eggo all preggo. Oh, man, now I want waffles, but womb-service is taking a brief hiatus until I finish this bizarre…whatever I just put together. This." She indicated the bizarre salad. "Anyway, as I was saying, after we finish dinner, you want to watch a movie? I haven't shown you Tangled yet. You'll like the duel between the army horse and the hot thief."
"I'd like that," he murmured. It was the best part of every day—spending his evenings with his wife and unborn daughter. And then the nights…"What shall we do after that?"
Thea pursed her lips in thought. "You can rub my feet. Some cute and adorable, soda-bottle-sized cuddly person is having too much fun in their big squishy waterbed and making my ankles swell up a little. And I know you like tickling me."
Oh, yes, he did. She made the most interesting sounds when he ran his fingers over the elegant arches of her feet. "And after that?"
A cat-like smile curled her lips. "I can't really think of anything worth doing after that. I might need some help thinking of something. Lose the shirt, it might jog my memory."
For the first time, a real smile that had nothing to do with the miracle of a new life curved Loki's mouth. His eyes drifted from Thea's face—still too pale for his liking, but so very beautiful—down her body until his gaze was arrested by the obstacle of the table. When his gaze slid back to her face, he found her watching him with slightly parted lips and smoky eyes. A tremor whispered through Thea when their eyes met. The breath hitched in Loki's chest.
"The movie can wait," Loki murmured, getting to his feet.
Thea nodded vehemently as her husband moved to her side and pulled her to her feet before drawing her into the circle of his arms. "Oh, yeah."
They eventually got around to finishing dinner and watching Tangled. Loki had to admit, the sight of a grown man and thief, armed only with a skillet and dueling a horse armed with a sword, was remarkably funny. This Walt Disney, whoever he was, had to have Asgardian blood in his background. There was no possible way he'd been purely mortal.
.
In the second week after Thor's visit to Midgard, Loki finally answered a question that had been plaguing the crown prince for many months.
"Why did you have the Destroyer break my neck?"
Loki had been staring into the fire, pale-faced but looking a bit more rested than Thor had seen him in some time. He'd had sweet dreams of Thea every night for the past week. His father must have done something to the seiðr of the prison, Thor thought. But now Loki turned to the prince with a melancholy expression.
"I had to."
Thor shook his head. "I do not understand, Brother. You had to kill me?"
"You wouldn’t have died."
"I did die," Thor said sharply, then had to swallow back his irritation so he could speak calmly. "My heart stopped for a moment. Heimdall told me later that my heart actually ceased beating."
Loki nodded. "I know. I was listening. But you did not stay dead."
"Did you know I wouldn't stay dead?"
After a long silence, Loki shook his head. "I hoped. I prayed. I took a risk, but it worked. I needed to test you because I knew no matter what I did, you would be back soon. I could only delay you; I couldn’t stop you. If you came back, with everything Sif and the Three and Heimdall had done, I wouldn’t be able to stay and make sure you became what Father had wanted you to be. I knew I would no longer be welcome in Asgard unless our Father awoke, or unless I could prove to you…so I had to test you."
"Test me?" Thor leaned forward, propping his elbows on his knees. His heart knifed sideways in his chest as he asked softly, "Test me how?"
Please, Loki, he prayed silently. Please let this be a good reason. Please show me I wasn’t wrong to trust you, Brother.
"You offered me your life in exchange for a people you'd once thought beneath you. Did you expect me to take it?"
Thor shook his head. "I never thought my brother would try to kill me. Not my twin, my shadow."
Loki laughed softly and shook his head. "That was the problem. You offered your life, never truly believing you would have to part with it. I had to prove you wrong. I had to make your sacrifice real. Once it was real, Mjölnir would come back to your hand."
"How did you know that was how it would go?"
"Because I was listening when Father exiled you," he said. "You had to be worthy of the power of Thor—the power of the crown prince of Asgard. And I knew how Mjölnir worked."
"How did you know that?"
Loki smiled wanly. "There is a remarkable invention you may have heard of, my brother. Flat, rectangular objects made of wood and leather, filled with marked paper that holds vast stores of information. They're called books. You read them. We even have such wonders here in Asgard. Whole rooms of such. They're called libraries."
Thor canted his head. Despite himself, a smile tugged at his lips. "Shut up."
"You walked right into that."
A laugh escaped the Asgardian as he nodded in rueful acknowledgement. "Aye, I did. I did. So my death…what? What did it prove?"
"It proved you were what a king should be—a man willing to lay down his life for those he had sworn to protect. Because of the Destroyer's presence, you learned humility, how to forego glory to defend what was most precious, and most importantly, what you were willing to sacrifice. Only when you accepted that your death was necessary to protect those Midgardians did Mjölnir come back to you." Loki glanced at his foster brother and murmured, "I don't think Father will ever forgive me for that. Hurting you that way."
"He will," Thor said. "Eventually. I have."
The stricken, hopeful look that flashed too briefly across Loki's drawn face sent pain twisting savagely in Thor's chest. Then Loki looked away. "You haven't asked me about what happened on Midgard, except for Coulson and Banner."
"The Chitauri forced you to invade…but why go for Erik? You knew he was my friend. Why did you take him under your thrall?"
"So that your friend wouldn’t risk death when the SHIELD stronghold began to collapse. I didn't care about the others, not with my wife and daughter's lives hanging in the balance. But I knew…I knew you would hate me for what I was about to do, and I hoped you would hate me a little less for protecting your friend."
"Then you stabbed Coulson through the heart."
Loki sighed. "It was necessary."
"But why? You protected one friend and ki—injured another. Why? Why was it necessary?"
Loki bowed his head and sighed again. Ran his hands through his hair. Leaning back in his chair, he dropped his head back so he could stare up at the ceiling with unblinking eyes. Through gritted teeth, he said, "I am going to tell you something…but you won't believe me. Do you remember when I told you about the Midgardian invention known as the telegram?"
Baffled, Thor nodded. Loki's words about the mortal device rang clearly through his skull. It is a Midgardian invention…a copy of a message, sent through wires by electricity, across vast spaces. Sometimes the message is delayed…but it almost always arrives eventually. Sometimes eventually is too late.
"And do you remember what I told you of how many seiðr workings resemble each other—such as teleportation and illusions? And that Chitauri seiðr requires blood and pain in order to work?"
"I do. What does that have to do with…" Thor's eyes widened as a thousand whirling, twirling thoughts crashed together inside his head, firming into a single impossible idea. He shook his head. It couldn’t be, and yet…and yet Loki had sworn by the Norns themselves that he hadn’t killed Coulson. Had claimed all this time that Coulson had known something, been entrusted with something precious, only to fail in the end. But it could not be. Loki couldn't have…"Did you…did you…" The thought was so alien to everything Thor had been thinking these past nine months that he couldn’t even process what his mind was trying to tell him.
But Loki nodded. Never taking his eyes away from Thor, Loki whispered, "The thing that died on the SHIELD flying fortress was not the son of Coul. It was merely a copy, part illusion and part…telegram, I suppose you could call it. When I stabbed him, I used the blood and pain from my strike to fuel two very difficult spells. A delayed healing spell, one of Eir's strongest…and a teleportation spell. It was delayed because of the life still left in that copy, and so the spell wasn't completed until the copy expired. A delayed message of help that arrived too late...as I said."
Thor swallowed hard. The words rasped in his throat when he whispered, "Where did you send him?"
"I sent him to go get Thea."
