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Chapter Text

PROLOGUE

Everywhere was darkness. It did not merely fill the space, it was the space, deep and terrible and enveloping all things. But it was not the darkness that she feared. Even as she wandered through the blackness, Sigyn could feel it lurking just ahead of her, prowling, panting, and yearning. And when she sensed she had reached it, the dark pressed in again and it was lost from her sight.
She was standing on the edge of a precipice, her cloak snapping in the icy wind that struck her like daggers. The hills were afire, the heat beat at her face, and she drowned in the screams.
Asgard sprang up before, no, below her. She was above it, suspended, watching, with the cold feeling in the pit of her stomach that told her something evil, something wicked, was coming. The shadows stretched long, clawing at the golden pillars, and the universe swirled restlessly around her. It carried her away on a bed of stars.
There was a tree, huge and all-knowing. Its leaves were yellowed, its roots parched. She felt the bark beneath her palm, papery, leafing away. The tree was dying, and the shadows loomed.
Sigyn was once again atop the mountain, but this time she was not alone. There were thousands there, millions, scattered, screaming for blood. Steel scraped against steel. Iron rang. Thunder rumbled. There was a face, a red, sneering face standing above them all. He raised a gloved hand, the mountains trembled, and the world drowned in blood.
She woke up with sweat beaded across her forehead, the sheets crumpled at her feet, and a feeling of dread in her chest.

CHAPTER 1
Love and Lies

If Loki had found himself face to face with the Devil, he would have laughed right in his face.
When it had seemed Fate had drunk its fill, it had returned asking for more, always demanding more. No, Fate was far from finished with him, the god thought ruefully as he stood outside the Iron Hall, Thor clutching his arm in a death-grip. He found himself laughing despite it all, a sort of mad cackle that frightened even himself. The dejá vu of it all made him smile bitterly. Once again he would be mocked. Once again he would be hated. Once again he would be punished.
He wanted to run, to disappear, but a part of him kept him frozen, the part that whispered, “You deserve it.”
“Loki, this is your last chance t—to make amends,” Thor was pleading, his eyes desperate and searching. “They will listen, you are the Prince of Asgard—”
“A prince?” Loki spat and Thor recoiled slightly at his sharp words. How could he not see? Loki thought. How could he not see the lies laid out before him? It was so useless.
“You think that’s what I want?” he continued, ignoring his once-brother’s protests. “There is nothing left in Asgard for me. There never was. You will see.”
The guards filed in on either side mutely, but the loathing was written across their weathered faces. They wrestled Loki’s arms behind his back and into the cursed shackles. Already Loki could feel his energy drain from him, the familiar burning sensation filling his chest as his magic was trapped, burning, within him. But he would not give them the satisfaction of seeing his pain, not to them.
It was when the captain pulled out the muzzle that Thor began to protest.
“Is that truly necessary, my friends?” Thor asked uncomfortably as they clamped the infernal things over Loki’s mouth. His eyes flashed up the Thor’s as if to say “See?” Thor looked on miserably as they marched Loki through the great metal doors and into the chaos of the throne room.

* * *

Sigyn was late.
They hadn’t told her. Frigga had said it was for her own good; things were different now. As she hurriedly made her way down the tower steps, she silently decided she would enchant Frigga’s sewing needles so they sang out bad poetry as vengeance, once her Loki was back. Surely they would clear him. Surely they would.
There was much that needed said.

* * *

They had packed the Hall with lords and soldiers and common folk alike. Oh, how long they have waited for this, Loki mused dryly. Their gaze was cold and he saw no forgiveness there. Again, he thought of what a fool Thor had been to think they would listen. There was no mercy in their eyes. He was already condemned, and they would kill him on the spot if Odin gave the word.
It made him sick at first, but he was all too familiar with the feeling and it faded almost immediately. They would never listen. They would never know the true story, what had happened after he fell, where he had been that long, long year. What Loki wondered was if he would.
From the moment he laid eyes on his “father,” Loki could tell instantly: Odin knew. The All-Father, his face grim and set, studied Loki like one would a disobedient child, which, Loki supposed, he was to him. But Odin could see through the hate in his eyes to something deeper. 'I know what’s coming,' Loki thought out at him. 'I’ve seen it. I am it.' There were still tell-tale traces of blue in his eyes, the shadows dark below them. Oh yes, how could he not see the signs? But Loki saw in the All-Father’s eyes that once again he would do nothing. Once again he would lie. And that hurt all the more.

* * *

Sigyn could hear the steward’s nasal voice echoing down the dim corridor as he read off the list of charges. She still did not know which to believe. There were stories and rumors and rumors of rumors, and each frightened her more than the next. But Sigyn knew she had made her decision long ago.
She pushed her way into the tense crowd. It was growing restless. The steward’s voice strained to be heard over the growing roar. Sigyn could not see him; there were too many bodies pressed about her. Odin was speaking now, his voice commanding and final. She could see him sitting atop his golden throne, but his words were lost in the sea of voices. His statement triggered a frenzy in the crowd. Whispers rose to violent protests, and Sigyn realized dully that Loki’s sentence had been given. A panic came over her. They were taking him away.
She shoved lords and ladies alike aside as she made her way through the throng of people. Their faces and cries blurred around her and she no longer cared what they saw, what they thought. Her dress caught and she felt it tear at her ankles. Before she could steady herself, an elbow caught her in the chest, knocking the wind out of her and sending Sigyn toppling into the guards and their prisoner’s path.

* * *

At first, all Loki could see was a mass of blonde curls. Then, his eyes met hers. Hers were violet, an unusual and familiar violet. His lips moved in a wordless cry and he strained against the guards’ grip, against the shackles. The captain grabbed her by the wrist and thrust her back into the crowd, his escort already dragging Loki out through the iron studded doors. But he had seen her.
And that was enough.

Chapter Text

Thor was drinking with the others, but not out of celebration. It was guilt he wished to wash away.
What had gone wrong? The question haunted his every moment. Where had they gone wrong? They would never say it in his presence, but Thor knew that the others believed Loki was mad, or, at the very least, a coward. Mad, he could believe. He had seen the look in his brother’s eyes, the lack of feeling, the excess of feeling, the raw emotion, the emptiness all at once. But despite all the wrong Loki had done him, he could not call him a coward. Ambitious, yes. Cunning, unquestionably. Prideful, certainly, most Asgardians were. But never cowardly.
It didn’t make sense. Thor felt he was staring down at a puzzle, but no matter what two pieces he pushed together, none would fit. Loki was angry, desperate, with nothing to lose. But his plan, allying with the Chitauri to seize Midgard, laying siege to Manhattan, that was not Loki’s style. It was too aggressive, too risky. Loki kept his cards close to his chest, and he certainly never depended on the success of others. True, he had fooled them at first, had taken Clint and Erik and the Tesseract. He’d played his tricks, had his fun. He had killed his share. But that was nothing new. The Chitauri attack, the portal: that was what confused him.
His father—their father—had said the Tesseract was far too powerful to be controlled by man or Asgardian. It was pure energy. Legend told it was the source of all magic, though he had since learned that it was the other way around. Upon their deaths, the ancient mages of old had infused their strength into the Tesseract, binding their power and their essence to the Cube. 'Loki has grown up with these stories as have I,' he thought, swirling the contents of his tankard. 'He would know that it cannot be harnessed for long.' The Tesseract was a force, controlled by, essentially, aiming and shooting. There was a reason it had originally been locked in Odin’s vault.
He needed Jane: Jane, with her logic and science and warmth and smile. Thor missed her terribly, and he was certain she of all people would be able to make sense of the mess he found himself in. But that was impossible. The All-Father had forbidden him to make any “side-trips” to Midgard while the Nine Realms lay in war and chaos, and with Loki’s coming trial, Thor hadn't had the heart to disobey his father’s orders.
But now…
He had to. He had to know. Loki’s sentence had been decided. He would be in the Caves in three days. If he didn't figure the problem out now, there would be no reason to. There would be nothing left worth saving.
He quaffed the rest of his ale, bayed good-bye to Sif and the Warriors Three. He would ask. Then, no matter what, he would go.

* * *

“How can you not even grant him a fair trial?”
Silence fell over the dinner table as the bits of strained conversation faded away. Lady Sif and the Warriors Three let their gaze drop. Thor’s fork clattered against his gold plate—gold like everything else in Asgard, save one. Frigga and Odin exchanged strained glances.
“Sigyn,” Frigga began anxiously, “Now is not the—”
“Is this your idea of—of mercy?” Sigyn said. Her fingers dug into the table and sparks flickered agitatedly around her. “Or is it your way of settling petty feuds?”
“Loki has committed crimes against the Realms,” Odin said stiffly, his eyes flashing dangerously at Sigyn. “And so he will pay the price equal to them.”
“Equal,” she said dryly, her fist tightening around her fork, knuckles white. “Equal so that he may not even speak in his defense while you deal out your ‘justice?’”
“Loki is very persuasive,” Odin replied tersely, ignoring Frigga’s sharp looks. “To let him speak would be…unwise.”
Sigyn knew she was treading on dangerous ground, but a new anger had taken over her since she had seen Loki. She had seen the pain there.
And though the others had tried to keep it secret, in the end it was Sif who had told her his sentence. She had granted her that right at least.
“Easy for you to say, in your comfortable chairs, with all the mead you could drink and a kingdom before you,” she continued heatedly. “You and your golden world. You think you are so good, so just, so noble. You think you can stopper up the bad in the world and make it all disappear. Tell me, how long will you lie to yourself?”
“Sigyn—” Frigga called warningly, but Sigyn only spoke louder.
“You know. You saw it. I can tell. You know where he was, what he did, what he saw. But so did I. I've had dreams, visions, premonitions. We know what’s coming.”
Odin eyed her icily, his voice trembling with rage. “What madness is this talk, Sigyn? Your grief blinds you. I thought you had more sense than a common—”
“He’s a warning, of what they’ll do. You know what they did. You know who they are, what their capable of. You know they’re coming as we speak.”
She smiled triumphantly at the concern and bewilderment spreading across Sif, the Warriors, even Thor's face. She turned and spoke to them, her voice steady and strong.
“There is a lot the All-Father has not told you. There is more than one liar in this house, there always has been.”
The sorceress pushed back her plate and vanished in a snap of silk. Silence swallowed the hall once more.
Thor stared fixedly down at his plate. “Father—”
“NO.” Softer the second time. “No, Thor, not now. Not now.” The king of Asgard turned wearily to face his wife. “I’m sorry, my dear. We must do it. We must settle this, for good. I will tell the guards in the morning.”
Frigga wiped her mouth on her napkin, and walked quickly from the hall.

* * *

The dreams were more vivid tonight. Sigyn pressed her face into the pillow as if to shove them from her mind, but the shadows in her room only seemed to grow. Suddenly, abruptly, she sat up, pulled her cloak about her and slipped out into the hall. She needed someone who would listen. They would not let her see Loki, she had already tried, but there were others. She needed someone who saw.
He probably already knew she was coming.

Chapter Text

Loki sat slumped over in his cell, thumbing through the leather-bound book Frigga had left for him the previous night. He welcomed the distraction. Sleep evaded him, and thoughts of Sigyn had momentarily sapped all the hate out of him, cutting him deeper than any knife.
She had come back for him. 'Faithful, faithful, foolish Sigyn,' he thought fondly. His memories of her were surprisingly clear: the smell of her hair, the soft sound of her laugh, the smoothness of her skin, the clarity of her voice…
When he fell, he had banished all thoughts of ever seeing her again. Part of him had hoped he wouldn't; she would be much better off without him. But his affection for her had never ceased. Even now, he would give anything, would do anything, to see her one last time, before they took him away. Loki wondered if they had told her. Maybe mother will tell her they killed me, he thought as he fingered the first page with his thumb. Swiftly and quickly. I never felt a thing. He hoped so.
He hoped so.

* * *

“The Lady Sigyn,” Heimdall said in greeting, his gaze never wavering. “What troubles you this late? Or need I ask?”
She stood in the entrance to the Bifrost, her hair tousled and eyes tired. But the strength with which the Watcher of the Realms stood, the steadfastness, the permanence, gave her courage. Sigyn had always been fond of Heimdall, and him of Sigyn. Before Thor had returned with Loki, they had spent hours talking, staring out into the universe together. She had told him of her dreams soon after they began, but they had become more intense, more real.
“Is it really starting?” she asked softly, gazing out into the darkness. The stars glittered like a thousand eyes, watching, watching.
“Yes,” Heimdall said in his detached fashion. “I've seen the beginnings of a thousand wars, but this one will be far greater than any before.”
“Odin does not see,” Sigyn murmured sadly. She felt guilty still about the way she had treated him. Though not a father, he was family to her. 'It had to be said. There was nothing else I could do. The seed must be sewn.'
“The All-Father is tired,” Heimdall chastised, fixing his gaze on her. “He has lost a son, only to find him and lose him again. Remember that, next time.”
She bit her tongue and waited for him to continue.
“Still, the Realms grow restless. They sense danger, but they know not from where. And there my sight is clouded as well. I look out, and there is only darkness.”
“The world will drown in night and blood,” Sigyn said hollowly. “We cannot stop them, but we can fight them. But we will need help.”
Heimdall’s eyes closed and he sighed heavily. “I know what it is you want, Sigyn. But I will not help you free him.”
Sigyn opened her mouth to protest, but he silenced her with a shake of his head. “You love him. Do not deny it. You think he can help, you think he has seen them and can be used against them. And you are right. I will not lie; I do not trust him. And I warn you not to. He has changed since you last met him. They have changed him. I cannot help you. But—” He quirked one eyebrow at her, and she couldn't suppress her smile. “But an old man must sleep every now and then, even a sentinel. And I find myself quite tired.”
“Heimdall, thank you, thank you!” She flung her arms around him and he stumbled backwards, his expression slipping for a moment. He closed his eyes in her arms, and shut it all out.

* * *

Footsteps. Loki heard them echoing down the marble hall. His throat tightened and a bitter laugh escaped him.
They had come for him.

* * *

Thor’s heart was in his throat as he heard the guards begin their descent to the dungeons. Odin had given the orders before sunrise, as promised. He was too late.
The god of thunder twisted the lock to his door and settled in front of the fire, the flames cackling as he placed his head in his hands.

Chapter Text

Her first impulse was to run to Odin, seize him by the shoulders, and scream until her voice was no more, but that was foolish, childish thinking. If he had wanted her to know, he would have told her in the first place. And Frigga, she was queen, but she could not defy her husband, even on such matters. That left only one.
Sigyn swept past a sentry and out the rusted, metal doors. She took the stairs two at a time, hoisting her skirts well past her ankles to keep them out of her way. At the moment, she could care less what was “proper.”
Thor’s door was locked, but it swung open to admit her with the wave of her hand.
“Where is he?” she demanded, crossing the room in three angry steps.
The god of thunder looked up from his seat by the fireplace, Mjolnir resting in his lap. His eyes were red-rimmed and he hastily wiped them with the back of his hand.
“Loki’s sentence has been put into effect,” Thor said heavily, his expression pained. He refused to meet Sigyn’s gaze. “There is no more we can do for him.”
“But the Caves?” Sigyn pressed, fists clenched at her side. “Tell me: does that sound like justice to you? We’re no better than them.”
Thor shifted uncomfortably. “My friends on Midgard had their own ideas, but it does not matter. We shall never know. Father has made his decision, and I must trust his judgment.”
“May I at least see him?” Sigyn’s voice softened. “Speak to him?”
The blond was already shaking his head. “The All-Father had forbid it. Only he, his guards, my Lady Mother, and I are to know.”
“Thor, something is stirring. I have seen it—Heimdall as well. You would know of all people that something does not add up. Loki has answers. If you cannot do something out of love, do it out of duty to the Realms.”
“Sigyn, I do not doubt your visions, or Heimdall’s sight. But I cannot defy my father’s orders again. He is old. He barely passed through his last sleep. I fear…I fear that if there is to be another, he will not wake up. I cannot put a greater burden upon him. Asgard has faced many a great foe under my father’s rule. It will survive another. It must.”
Sigyn swallowed. 'Time to change my approach.' She hated to manipulate Thor in this way, but she had come this far. And in her heart, she felt it was right.
She leaned up against the mantle, letting the silence lap around them for a minute. The flames flickered across the marble floor and the shadows danced.
“Tell me about Jane,” Sigyn said suddenly, running her fingers absentmindedly along the dark wooden frame.
Thor blinked confusedly.
“Your Midgardian girl,” Sigyn prompted, but gently, “Tell me about her.”
Thor’s face brightened. “There’s not a fairer woman in all the Nine Realms. Never have I seen such a loving, gentle spirit.”
“And you miss her?”
“Every minute.”
“And you’d do anything for her, wouldn't you?”
“Anything.”
“No matter what she had done? You’d still love her?”
Thor’s gaze dropped as he realized what the sorceress was leading him to.
“Yes.”
“If you truly believe that, then please, just tell me: where is he?”
Thor sighed and stooped over in his chair. “He’s here,” he explained slowly, “Beneath the palace under the throne room. He’s shielded be magic.”
Sigyn straightened herself, purple sparks already dancing at her fingertips. “That shouldn't be a problem. Thank you, Thor.”
She had only just turned to leave when Thor called out to her.
“Sigyn,” the god of thunder said, and for the first time he met her gaze, “I know what you’re going to do. I’m not that great of a fool. So look after him. Look after him better than I did.”

The stairs beneath the Iron Hall seemed to stretch on for a lifetime. The flickering torchlight had long since faded away to impenetrable darkness, and her footsteps rang a dull note with each step. Sigyn whispered a quick spell and lilac flames sprang from her palm, illuminating the space around her. The smell hit her two-thirds of the way down, making her eyes water. It smelled of blood and rot and something vaguely animalish. She expected it to only grow colder as she descended, but instead she found herself sweating. The air was heavy and constricting, and more than once Sigyn found herself having to stop, panting and clutching her side. 'Jotuns have a lower tolerance for heat,' she recalled numbly, and quickened her pace.
The staircase ended abruptly in a wall of dark stone. Sigyn brushed her hand against the wall's craggy surface. It was slick with moisture and heavy with enchantments. She was not wanted here, clearly. Pausing, Sigyn considered it for a moment. No doubt Odin’s ever-watching ravens had already alerted the palace, as Heimdall would not; no amount of silence could hide her from them. With that in mind, she backed up the stairs, pulled back her arm and made a throwing motion at the wall. It exploded in a shower of broken stone and violet sparks, sending a wave of burning heat and smoke rushing up the stairwell. The sorceress brushed herself off, sweeping a stray curl out of her eyes, and stepped over the ruins of the barrier. Instantly, she was hit full force by the source of the smell, thick and cloying, and death clung to every inch of the space. 'The legends do not do it justice,' Sigyn thought with a pang of sorrow. 'The Caves are worse than death. On that, they did not lie.'
The serpent towered above her, its massive head chained to the cavern’s ceiling. It seemed to pant, venom dripping down from its yellow fangs onto the figure shackled to the rocks below. It took all her will power to choke back a sob when she realized the naked figure was Loki.
She knelt beside her childhood friend, the jagged rock digging into the skin of her bare legs. Loki stirred slightly, his eyes flickering open. A drop of venom greeted him. It splattered across his nose, lips, chin and cheekbone, steaming, and Loki cried out, a strangled sound wrenched from the deepest place of human agony. He’d angled his head to the side so as to protect his eyes, but nonetheless the poison had eaten away the flesh on the left side of his face and across his pale chest. Red and purple sores covered his body, and, she realized on closer inspection, were seeping a yellow puss that seemed to be the cause of the smell. 'And this after only a day,' Sigyn thought, cupping Loki’s head in her hands.
She had to stop the poison before it did further damage to Loki; then, she would worry about the shackles securing him, enchanted no doubt. Grimacing as another drop splashed onto Loki’s face and his body shuddered, Sigyn muttered something under her breath. A smooth bowl of pearly stone appeared in her hand, and she raised it above them to catch the drops of venom. It hissed against the cold stone.
Loki murmured something blearily before he started at the sight of Sigyn, seeing her for the first time. She smiled shyly at him, nodding at the bowl. She supposed she’d hoped he’d be pleased. Loki wasn't one for rules; besides, it was his life she was saving. But instead he looked horrified.
“Sigyn,” he croaked, the chains clinking against cold ground as he moved to rest his fingers on her arm. “Sigyn, what have you done?”
“Well,” she began ponderously, gritting her teeth as a bit of venom splattered her, “Betrayed the trust of this most glorious kingdom. Blew up the wall. Prevented the punishment of a prisoner and traitor to the Realm. Next, I intend on aiding and harboring a fugitive, while I’m at it.”
“I told you not to come,” Loki pleaded, the strain evident in his voice. “They’re coming already. They’ll put you here, too. They’ll—”
Sigyn shook her head firmly. “I don’t care. It wasn't your fault. Chain me beside you, and we’ll greet Death together.”
A voice echoed down the passageway. Sigyn jumped, nearly sloshing the poison she’d collected onto herself. It dripped down her arms and she bit back a scream. The footsteps grew louder.
“Sigyn,” Loki said warningly.
“I said I would wait,” Sigyn replied distractedly, balancing the bowl in one hand. “And I’m not going back now. Hold still.”
The sorceress pressed her index finger against Loki’s forehead and squeezed her eyes shut just as Loki’s flew wide open. Violet sparks enveloped him, thrumming with energy and heat before vanishing altogether. Sigyn collapsed, the bowl clattering against the stone floor, poison steaming and sputtering. Loki sat up, his mind bright and so very alive. He sent a pulse of magic racing down his arms and the chains crumbled. The god of mischief sat up, fully clothed, hair brushed, gaze steady. He touched his face and felt only smooth, even skin. His fingers shook with an uncontrollable energy. Sigyn’s spell had worked almost too well.
'Clever girl,' he thought bitterly, 'Clever, foolish, faithful Sigyn.' A Sustain spell. Ingenious, really. They would regret it later, he knew, when the spell wore itself out, but now he felt invincible, strong, powerful, like a god. 'Like Thor,' he thought dully. 'This is what Thor feels like.'
Loki gathered the blonde girl up in his arms, surprised at how little she weighed. The footsteps halted suddenly, and he realized the guards must have entered the room. Someone shouted a warning. Loki didn't even look to see the source of the voice. He rose to his feet, turned on his heels and vanished.

* * *

Sigyn dreamed again of empty space, deepening darkness, and echoing voices. Shadows flickered across the sky, the hills were crimson, the voices scraped and curled under her skin. She felt cold, and so very, very alone.

* * *

They slammed into the rocky ground, tumbling down the slope. Black spots danced in Sigyn’s vision as she grabbed at the grass around her for some form of support. When the world slid back into focus, she realized she was in a field, a pasture perhaps, filled with feathery plants and speckled with little round poppies that fit perfectly in her cupped hand. The sky was dim, wisps of cloud reaching out across a sea of deepening blue. There were no stars.
She pushed aside her curiosity when she heard Loki gasp. Sigyn frantically crawled over to him, the brush scratching at her bare legs. He was very pale. The teleportation had thrown off her focus and the Sustain spell had worn off almost immediately. The wounds left by the snake’s venom slowly grew until they once more encompassed Loki's entire left side, the blisters and bruises blossoming across his skin, and his breath came out in wet, ragged gasps. She pressed her hand against his chest to find it was already sticky with blood.
“I’m sorry, Loki, I’m sorry!” Sigyn said helplessly, easing Loki out of his coat. She fumbled with the first leather strap. “I tried to transfer my energy. I lost focus.”
Loki mumbled something unintelligible. Sigyn tilted her head closer while yanking apart the final buckle.
“What?”
“I said, what I have to do to get you frantically pulling all my clothes off,” Loki said, grinning, the blood staining his teeth.
The back of Sigyn’s hand cracked against Loki’s right cheek and his face contorted in pain, but a wet laugh escaped his lips and she smiled.
“Now, now, good sir,” she said, pressing the heavy fabric against him in an attempt to staunch the flow of blood. “I’m a proper lady. Virtuous.”
“Really?” Loki eased himself onto his right side so Sigyn could examine his left cheek and shoulder. “My, my, do you find yourself in need of confession, dear lady?”
“Oh, I have been terribly sinful today, good sir,” she replied, frowning at the purplish spots. “Betrayed king and country. Aided a traitor of the Realms. In fact, I believe I am now a traitor of the crown.”
“That won’t do. Tell me, fair lady, how—ah!”
Loki recoiled as Sigyn waved her hand above his skin, encasing it in a layer of purple mist. His wounds seemed to drink it in, sucking the mist in like air and causing them to hiss and bubble. Sigyn wrinkled her nose in disdain. She had never been one for healing magic. It wasn't the blood, the screams, or the smell. It was the healing itself: the way the magic pulsed beneath the flesh, the way it seemed to come alive. As she sat back on her feet and waited, it only served as a reminder of how dangerous, how wild, magic was. The Asgardians had never understood that, she had learned that quickly. Powerful wielders like herself and Loki could handle it so deftly, playfully even, giving every impression of control. But magic was not an animal that could be chained and domesticated. Magic was a force. It surged and moved and felt. It took a steadiness, a confidence, an art to wield it, to coerce the energy boiling beneath your surface to do as you bid. The contract ran both ways. It was delicate and ever in a state of flux. Sigyn was steady, grounded. And no matter the rush, the thrill she felt when casting, she was always weary.
But there was a reason Sigyn was the first of her class. The spell took affect within five minutes, the poison seeping out of him and dissipating, the mist carrying it from Loki’s body. Loki had realized what was happening to him, and had positioned his face so that his wounds faced the dark, empty sky, then his arms, his shoulders, then his chest, the longest and most excruciating.
When the painful process was finished, Loki seemed to sink back into the grass, exhausted, his skin clear but dull. Sigyn’s hands shook slightly from the exertion, and she slumped to her side, lying parallel to Loki. She cocked her head, the brush scratching at her cheek. They sat, staring at each other, the heat of the moment gone, and the tense silence returned. It had seemed so natural in the seconds before, but now it occurred to her that they hadn't seen each other in years. She knew him better than most, true. They had written, bantered, bickered, vented, pouring into each other for many a long year. But in most other respects, they were strangers, and a feeling of distance suddenly filled them both.
“You grew your hair out,” Sigyn managed, biting at her lip.
Loki smiled. His eyes wrinkled at the corners. His eyes had sharpened, the green intensified.
“So did you, though I must say, you've handled it much better than Thor,” Loki said, resting his chin on his hand.
Sigyn laughed, and the night swallowed the sound.
They lapsed into silence once more.
Loki broke it. “Sigyn, I—”
“I’m going to kiss you,” Sigyn said, and before the look of surprise could leave Loki’s face, she leaned in and pressed her lips against his. Loki sat frozen before melting into her, his hands wrapping around her waist, pulling her closer. Her fingers dug into his back, and she lost herself in the rightness, the oneness, that she had longed for. Their bodies seemed to fit perfectly together, and it was right, surely this was right.
She didn't want it to end. Not for the world, not for anyone.

Chapter Text

They slept out in the field, as they had nowhere to go and no energy to go anywhere.
Loki woke to the early sun beating against his face, brush itching at his bare skin, Sigyn curled up beside him, her head resting on his shoulder. The wind teased her golden curls and wildflowers framed her face as she slept. He smiled at her, genuinely, without a trace of mischief or mockery or wickedness. For years, he had suppressed his emotions, he had lost control of his emotions, he unleashed them, buried them, rejected them. But now, as he felt the warmth of Sigyn’s body against his, he was complete, and he felt, he felt everything: the sun, the wind, the birds above, the earth below. It was like the cloth had been lifted from his eyes, and there was nothing but Sigyn, her face, her eyes, her laugh, her smile.
He would have been content to lie there for an eternity, but he knew they had to move. Heimdall surely would find them soon enough, and if not he, Odin’s ravens would. Grudgingly, Loki gently shook Sigyn by the shoulder. Her face scrunched together as she stretched, squinting at their bright surroundings.
“That’s funny,” she said blearily. “I could have sworn this was Vanaheim, but evidently that is not so. Where are we?”
Loki had dreaded the question—too many fresh memories, most of which ended badly. Of course, he had known as soon as he had opened his eyes, as soon as the stench flooded his nostrils, but he pretended to pause and consider before answering. “Midgard.”
Sigyn frowned but said nothing, propping herself up on her elbows.
“The population is large,” Loki explained, grimacing as he sat up. Though purified, his skin still felt thick, heavy, and his body ached fiercely. “That should help conceal us, even without magic. But I imagine Heimdall will have—”
“Heimdall has taken a much needed rest,” Sigyn interrupted, a mischievous smile on her face. “Unlike you, I happen to be quite good at making friends, you see.”
“How I missed you, dear Sigyn. Such wit is rare in these Realms.”
The corners of her mouth quirked as she craned her neck to take in their surroundings. Everywhere there was space, vast grassy fields giving way to tangled forests. This side of Midgard was the opposite of what he had come to know of it in the past year, with its metal and dust, its noise, its smell, its crowds, its beat, pounding and pulsing, the human machine. Here, it was untainted. It was pure. Sigyn’s eyes were alive with wonder. She had never been to Midgard, no doubt; Asgardians scarcely bothered. There was a reason they had dubbed it the “Lower Realm,” after all.
“It’s beautiful here, isn’t it?” she said dreamily. “Part of me doesn’t want to see the rest, to keep this single, untarnished memory. Ignorance is bliss, I believe is the phrase here.”
Loki nodded, pushing himself to his feet. He grimaced. Sigyn rose hurriedly to steady him.
“Where do we go now?”
Loki raised an eyebrow. “You’re the one who broke me out of prison.”
Sigyn shrugged. “Yes. And you were the one that brought us to Midgard.”
He’d forgotten how stubborn she could be. “We teleport. To a big city perhaps. Lose ourselves in the crowd. Though it’s best we avoid New York. Or America in general.”
Sigyn nodded and went back to her study of the sky. Loki loved that about her. She didn’t pry. She didn’t need to. What Sigyn lacked in cunning and ruthlessness she made up for in intuitiveness. It was part of who she was, able to always connect and reach out to those around her—a feat Loki had yet to master when it came to manipulation, and he felt, for that reason, he never would.
“You’ll have to do it,” Sigyn said suddenly, her expression a mixture of anxiety and concern. She massaged her temple with her thumb and forefinger, her muscles tight.
“Sigyn?” Loki stepped closer, eyebrows knit with concern.
Sigyn shook her head. “No, no, not here. Later.”
“Let me guess: my pretty face and the severity of punishment were not the sole reason behind your rescuing me, were they?”
She nodded. Loki had expected this, but at the same time, selfishly, a part of him had hoped she had done it for him alone, out of rebellion, out of anger, out of love. 'Asgardians as a species are far too noble,' he thought wryly as he looped arms with Sigyn. He closed his eyes, focused, and they vanished.

* * *

His father was furious.
Frigga was trying to conceal her relief, but Thor knew. He shared her feelings, but dread had quickly begun to eat at him. He trusted Sigyn. The question was, could he trust Loki? Would he listen to her? And then there was the matter of his own guilt. He had been shocked when he had learned of the depth of Loki and Sigyn’s relationship. It had never occurred to him that Loki was capable of love in that way, in all honesty. They had teased each other, as all brothers would, but Loki had always been distant, had never approached the subject with any form of sincerity.
Sigyn. Loneliness. Adoption. Hurt. Betrayal. Yes, there was a lot he had missed when it came to his brother. Sif had confronted him several weeks after Loki’s fall and assumed death.
“No matter what he was thinking or feeling,” she had said firmly, “That was his choice—not yours.”
Thor tried to believe that. But no matter how hard he tried to separate them, the boy he had grown up with and the man who had attempted to subjugate an entire planet, but Loki was still his brother, and he felt responsible. But love worked in strange ways. Perhaps Sigyn would succeed where he had failed.
The All-Father did not share his and Frigga’s hope.
“I thought he had yet to corrupt her, but it would seem I was wrong,” Odin spat, pacing at the foot of the throne.
Frigga reached for him, but he brushed her off. “We treated her like family, and she betrayed us. There have been too many traitors in this family.”
“Has it ever occurred to you that Sigyn was right?” Frigga said sharply before her husband could cut her off. “Her actions were a bit on the dramatic side, but I’m sure she didn’t feel she had much of choice, what with things escalating so quickly.”
Her words were like venom. Thor winced. Frigga was not easily angered, but her bitterness was evident. 'She still loves Loki,' Thor thought. He wasn’t sure what he thought of Loki, but he couldn’t lie to himself: he didn’t wish him dead.
“Dreams,” Odin shot back, “Visions of darkness. Nightmares, my dear, mere trifles. Having a little magic in your blood doesn’t make every bad cup of wine a warning.”
Frigga’s eyes narrowed. “Was it not magic that laid the foundations of this palace? Bound stone to iron? Or does my memory mistake me?”
“You speak of visions,” Thor interrupted hurriedly before Odin could speak again. “As heir and guardian of Asgard, it is my right to know of every threat—even those in the mind.”
Frigga smiled victoriously. Thor guessed this had been another subject of dispute the past night.
Odin sat heavily on the throne, breathing in and out again. His fingers curled around the edges of the armrests, and he looked up resignedly. “I cannot fight the both of you. So be it. But we have yet to prove any of these dreams—”
“Though the king may not, there are others who may see.”
Heimdall stood stiffly in the doorway, his gilded helmet tucked under his arm.
Odin rose too quickly, and Frigga caught his hand to steady him. His face was stretched into a grimace. “Heimdall, friend, I have long trusted your sight and your guidance, but you have made a grievous error.”
Heimdall strode down the hall, his footsteps echoing dully, the sound lost to the four corners of the massive room. “Then trust me on this, my lord. My sight has been clouded. Darkness is growing, building. I did not heed it at first, but since the Chitauri defeat it has doubled its paced. I know not what it is, what it wants, but it moves to surround us.”
“Sigyn’s dreams showed much the same thing,” Frigga continued, speaking at Thor in particular. “She came to me once, to warn me. She spoke of blood and shadows and screams. She saw Yggdrasil withered, dying. She saw armies in a mountainous world. She saw a man of red at their head.”
Odin’s frown deepened; Heimdall’s face remained a mask. Thor nodded, rubbing his chin as he thought.
“This red man…do we know of him?”
Heimdall shook his head. “No. I have searched far and long, but his face I cannot reach. It would take a powerful magic to deceive me. Dark magic.”
The words did not need to be said; the implication was all too clear. Loki’s magic.
“This is where the truth becomes somewhat…muddled,” Frigga explained carefully. “Sigyn believes…she believes Loki was not acting of his own accord. I told her about his actions on Midgard, and she took a particular interest in the scepter. I am not sure what it is she sees that we do not, but she would not be persuaded otherwise.”
They stood in tense silence, Odin with his eyes closed, Frigga with her hands clasped.
“I should go to Midgard,” Thor said suddenly, decisively. “My friends—the Avengers—still hold the scepter. We need to return to the beginning, and this is the closest we can get.”
“What of Sigyn and Loki?” Odin said wearily, hunching over in his throne.
“Heimdall will watch. Loki and Sigyn are both masters of disguise; he has a much better chance of spotting them from Asgard than I on foot.”
Heimdall nodded in affirmation. “He speaks the truth, my lord.”
“Do you think it wise that you should go alone?” Frigga asked.
Thor smiled warmly at his mother. “I’ll be back before you know it.”
“No, no, she is right,” Odin said, his gaze steely. “In such dark times as these, it is best not to travel alone. Perhaps a companion would help you avoid other…side tracks on Midgard. Perhaps…the Lady Sif?”
Thor bristled. “This does not concern Jane Foster, father. She is leagues away from Manhattan, even now. I will take Sif with me. But only as a brother-in-arms and to assuage mother. You will not change my mind.”
Odin raised his hand in dismissal. “Then go, my son.”
Thor nodded curtly to first his father, then Frigga, before storming from the hall. The air rushed out of him as he rounded the corner, the tension of the throne room growing distant.
He had to find Sif.

Chapter Text

Sigyn loved and hated the city.
The close quarters, the dark, metal buildings that all looked the same, the endless press of bodies, and the screech and scream of what Loki called “automobiles” were stifling, grating at her nerves and slipping beneath her skin. But at the same time, she could never take it all in fast enough. Everything was new, every face had its own story to tell, and the ordinary grandeur of it took her breath away. She would have stood gawking up at the twisted metal jungle above and around her until the blare of a horn stirred her from her trance and Loki pulled her out of the street they had landed in.
“London,” Loki whispered to her as they hurried down the crowded sidewalk. “A charming, dirty little place, isn’t it?”
Sigyn smiled. “Little is not what I had in mind. It’s much more…stark, than I envisioned. I suppose Midgardians have their own definition of beauty though. Speaking of Midgardians…what do they see?”
Loki had conjured Glamours for them both, as Sigyn knew nothing of Midgardian fashion. They appeared the same in their own eyes: a blonde with strange purple eyes and shimmering robes and a pale-faced man with raven’s hair, dark clothes, and a likeness to the being that had attempted to subjugate the people of a country not too far from there. But when they bustled past a shop window, she would catch a glimpse of her reflection and smirk.
“My, my, subtle certainly isn’t your style?”
Loki wore the same dark, tight-fitting pants that all of the other men seemed to be wearing, a black coat buttoned up to his chin and a pair of odd, black glasses concealing his eyes. His hair was combed back and smooth. Sigyn was dressed in a tight-fitting plain purple shirt, a scarf wrapped artfully around her neck. Her boots went up to her knees, the heel twice what she normally wore, and her hair was knotted up at the top of her head. She couldn’t help but notice how striking he had made her look; she certainly didn’t take such care when dressing herself. No doubt he wasn’t aware he had even done it. This was simply how he saw her. It made her blush.
Loki wrapped his arm around her waist and eyed the crowd with a smug smile. “Only the best for you, love.”
“Hm. Perhaps we should go into hiding more often.”
“My schedule is free indefinitely.”
“I would expect nothing less.”
Loki managed to book them a hotel, a place people stayed for long periods of time, he explained. She asked him where he got the money and he tossed her a small, brightly-colored plastic card the size of her palm.
She frowned, inspecting under the false lighting. “What is it?”
He shrugged. “I haven’t the faintest of ideas. But all the others seem to be using them, so I borrowed one from a passing guest. Apparently I am now a certain ‘Brandon Fischer.’”
They didn’t let their disguises drop until they had locked the hotel room’s door and searched the room for cameras, which Loki had learned to be weary of. Sigyn lay back on the clean, white bed, her muscles slackening. Loki stood staring out the wide balcony doors, eyeing the skyline with a look of contempt.
“We can buy clothes from the vendors below. Then we won’t need to waste our energy on spells. Combined we can cast a strong enough Aura to shield us from Heimdall. Hiding shouldn’t prove much difficulty.”
Sigyn arched her back, cat-like, stretching. “Then what?”
“I’ve been meaning to ask you much the same.” Loki’s eyes latched onto hers with an unbreakable force.
Sigyn stiffened. “I’ve had…dreams. I know where you were all that year. After you fell. I’m sure now. You were with the red man. You were in the darkness.”
Loki’s gaze dropped, releasing her. “Yes…yes, I was.”
“You helped them make the scepter, didn’t you?”
“Frigga told you?”
Sigyn nodded and Loki went on, his face unreadable.
“Partly. When it came to the magic.”
“They used it on you first.”
Loki glared at her. “My actions were entirely my own choice. I do not regret them in their entirety, there is no denying that. But yes…they did. And though willing, my thoughts were not wholly my own.”
Sigyn pressed on, her voice lowering. “Did they torture you?”
"Subtle certainly isn't your style, is it?" he said, the corners of his mouth quirked slightly. But he had spoken too quickly, too quickly for her question to be invalid.
"Yes or no, then?"
Loki’s eyes narrowed. “It—it doesn’t matter, it is over and done. I made my own choices, and will live with them. Do you want a confession? Fine. I would slaughter all of Asgard in a second if it were necessary. And I would stand and laugh amongst the rubble.”
Sigyn leapt to her feet. “You didn’t answer my question.”
“What does it matter?”
“Everything matters.”
“You do not understand, I—”
“No, you don’t understand," she said heatedly, fists clenched at her sides. "It’s just me. You can admit defeat; victory means little to me. Motive, mindset: that is something of value. Yes, it matters. It means you fought back first. It means you tried. I see nothing wrong with losing the first round.”
She walked past Loki out onto the balcony, her fingers tightening around the railing as the feeling of vertigo rushed through her. There was a rustling sound and she knew Loki was standing right behind her.
“Fear is a wicked thing, is it not?” he said so softly that the wind almost carried his words away. “It betrays us all in the end.”
“Yes,” Sigyn whispered, pressing her head back against his chest. Her hand slipped into his. “It is, isn’t it?”

* * *

Thor would have liked to fly there himself, savoring the sights and sounds of the world he had come to see as a second-home. But Odin had ordered Heimdall to personally beam him and Sif down to Midgard. He had a feeling Jane was still on his mind. His father did not approve of his newfound feelings, and he had made this clear at every possible opportunity. For this reason Thor felt, for the first time, uncomfortable with Sif at his side as they stood atop Avengers Tower.
The goddess of war gazed out at the jumbled city around her like a hawk hunting for prey. She had never seen one of the great Midgardian cities; there had been no reason for her to.
“It’s grayer than I expected,” she said mildly, leaping up to perch on the terrace, the sickening drop as noticeable as a cricket. “Smaller. It falls in on itself. Gods, what is that smell?”
“Gasoline,” Thor answered immediately. Sif raised an eyebrow at him and he smiled sheepishly. “I asked the same question my last visit.”
“Thor!”
Steve, the Midgardian with the easy, friendly smile (the Protector, they called him in Asgard), burst through the door to the roof, arms outstretched. Thor clapped him on the back, laughing.
“Good to see you, my friend! Lady Sif, meet Steve, a noble warrior.”
Steve kissed Sif’s hand in an old-fashioned gesture. The corners of Sif’s mouth twitched as Steve straightened up to speak. “Lady Sif, how do you do, ma’am?”
“The pleasure is mine,” she said with the same slight smile. Thor shifted uncomfortably as their eye contact lingered longer than circumstance demanded necessary.
“The others are all inside,” Steve said quickly, clearing his throat, “I’ll show you around. We’ve done some renovations since our last, er, demolition project.”
Steve stooped under the low doorway, gesturing for them to follow.
Sif leaned in to whisper something in his ear. “Oh, Thor, I like him,” she said, grinning and pushing past him to follow Steve down the narrow staircase.
Thor chuckled to himself. 'Plans do tend to go awry, father,' he thought.

The team was seated around a hastily cleared table playing a game with cards and brightly colored pegs and occasionally shouting “Sorry!”, though Thor couldn’t see what there was to apologize for.
Tony sent the pieces flying across the room when the three of them entered, jabbering excitedly in the funny way Thor remembered. Bruce smiled shyly from the farthest seat and Natasha nodded as if to a fellow soldier, a comrade. But someone was missing.
“Where’s our archer friend?” he noted when he had greeted them all and Sif had been introduced.
The mood of the room shifted suddenly. Natasha bit at the inside of her cheek, and Bruce looked worried.
“He’s…out,” Steve said hesitantly. His tone said clearly 'Not now.'
“Where’ve you been, Point Blank?” Tony asked, punching him playfully in the bicep. “Could have used you a couple months back. Just your normal terrorist. Seeking world domination. Causing mass destruction. No biggie.”
“The Realms are in chaos,” Thor said, resting Mjolnir on the countertop. Sif seated herself across from Natasaha. “We’ve scarcely had a moment to ourselves, trying to bring peace.”
“Geez, I was joking, you don’t have to be so noble all the time,” Tony said, but his smile was still genuine.
“What brings you to Earth?” Bruce asked, leaning forward with his elbows propped on the table. He nodded first at Mjolnir, then at Sif’s spear slung across her shoulder. “I get the feeling that this isn’t just a social visit.”
“No, though I wish it were otherwise,” Thor said, his hand absentmindedly resting on his chin. “It has to do with Loki.”
Natasha groaned audibly.
Steve frowned. “I thought he was to be tried.”
“He—he was, to an extent,” Thor said hesitatingly. “My lady mother delayed the sentence as long as possible, but in the end it was decided. He was sent to the Caves.”
The way with which Thor spoke indicated the severity of Loki’s punishment, but it was lost on the Avengers. He froze as they stared at him with puzzled, expectant faces. Suddenly, he wasn’t sure he could stomach the response.
“It’s reserved for the highest of traitors: traitors to the Realms,” Sif supplied, her voice straight and factual. “The prisoner is chained below Asgard, below a great serpent, where the venom can drip down on them. Excruciating. The sentence is also…eternal.”
Silence fell over the room. A cell phone (Jane had explained them to him) rang from another room, but the Avengers ignored it.
“Isn’t that…illegal?” Tony said, shifting uncomfortably.
“Midgard maybe,” Natasha said, her voice expressionless, “Asgard, no.”
“I can’t say I care anything for the guy,” Steve said softly, staring down at the water rings on the table. “But that’s…harsh. How long do you guys, uh, live?”
“Several thousand years,” Sif answered, shrugging, “Give or take a few.”
Natasha cocked her head, eyes narrowed. “I have a feeling Loki’s sentence will not be…fulfilled, am I right?”
“Loki escaped,” Thor said quickly, eager to leave the subject of his brother’s sentence. “Rather, he was freed, by Sigyn.”
“Sigyn?” Tony put his head in his hand. “Oh god, there are more.”
“Sigyn is a sorceress, the best, besides Loki,” Thor explained. “She and Loki were childhood friends and…lovers, I think, at some point or another.”
“So now we have his psychopath girlfriend to deal with,” Tony said derisively. “Is that what you’re telling me?”
“No!" Thor said hurriedly. "No, Sigyn is...Sigyn is like family to us. She’s gentle, kind, well-loved actually. It’s just…she has had visions. A darkness is coming, a threat even Heimdall cannot see. She believed that Loki had encountered this threat, and that it had somehow…controlled him. My father refused to let her speak with him, so she took matters into her own hands. My mother tells me she was interested in particular by the scepter. I wish to see it. It may have the answers we are looking for.”
The creases in Steve’s forehead darkened. “SHIELD’s techies have torn it apart time and time again. There's nothing to see. Shouldn’t we be looking for Loki and Sigyn instead? And not at the scepter?”
Sif gave Thor a pointed look as if to say, 'Yes, why aren’t we?'
“No doubt Loki will take some time to…recover,” Thor admitted. “And Sigyn is looking for answers just as we are. They are masters of disguise. We would be hard-pressed to find them on our own. This way, our paths may cross on their own accord.”
“He’s right,” Bruce said suddenly, breaking his deep silence. He let his gaze pan around the table before speaking again. “Sigyn’s theory got me thinking… and she may be on to something. I’ve been studying the scepter ever since it…triggered me. To make sure it didn’t happen again. And I’ve had some odd findings.”
Tony sighed. “Here we go again.”
Thor glanced at Sif. She shrugged.
“Show us,” the thunder god said.

Chapter Text

“His name is Thanos.”
Sigyn lifted her head from the pillow to look Loki in the eye. He had offered to sleep on the floor, but she had insisted they share the bed, at least until he had regained his proper strength. Loki had, to her amusement, kept an uncomfortable distance between the two of them when they first lay down, but she had woken up with their bodies pressed up against one another nonetheless.
“The red man,” Loki continued, his forehead creased, “He called himself Thanos. I only spoke with him once, when we forged the scepter. The other times it was through the Other, his mouthpiece.”
Loki spit the words out at her like poison. “It was intended to channel a fragment of the Tesseract’s power. But unlike the Tesseract itself, which creates bridges between worlds, the scepter was a bridge between minds.”
“That’s how you used the scientist and the assassin,” Sigyn said, carefully articulating the Midgardian names.
Loki nodded.
“How did they use you?”
“They needed a wielder. Any form of mind control requires some amount of dark magic, which Thanos provided. But to bind it together, they needed me. I was able to direct it, to harness it. But there were…side effects in doing so.”
“It bound you to the channel.”
Loki blinked, his mouth a hard line.
“Your mind. The energy passed through you, Thanos controlling the Dark on one end, the Midgardians the receivers. You were the transmitter. You got caught in the middle.”
“You could put it like that.”
Sigyn frowned. Dark energy in its most raw form was rare; Odin and his father and his father before him had seen to that. But if Thanos was from another universe, somewhere beyond Heimdall’s sight, who was to say it was as caged there?
She pushed herself up, massaging her temple with her fingers. “I saw him again last night. In my dreams. They’ve been increasing. Sometimes I see things even when I’m awake, but I’m not sure if those are visions or just memories. I think…I think he’s looking for something.”
Loki nodded like the information wasn’t anything new, shrugging off the covers and smoothing back his hair. “I gathered that. Midgard was only the bottom of the ladder, you know. He was much more interested in Asgard and the Realms near it. The heart of the universe: that’s where the real power lies.”
There was a hungry look in his eyes as he described it. Sigyn chewed her lip pensively. It was more than a thirst for knowledge that she had remembered him having when they were younger. It was violent and animal and vengeful, and she could not tell who it was for: Thanos or Asgard. 'I will have to watch him carefully,' she thought. 'Heimdall was right, he has changed.' But though Loki may have lost his zeal for life and his purity of youth, she sensed his desire for success, a desire to prove himself. He wanted respect, love, fear, victory, as did all. Saving the universe? Certainly, he would do it. And now that he had her…perhaps she could calm his storm, his hold. At least, that’s what Sigyn hoped.
“I’m going out,” Loki said suddenly, standing up and snatching the credit card from the dresser.
“Buy me something pretty,” she said with a lazy smile.
Loki laughed, a natural sound, not like the mocking tone he had adopted around others. “I’ll buy you all the pretty things.”
“I think I’ll get to know the area. Mingle with the mortals, see how they work. That should help with what I have in mind.”
Loki cocked his head. “What’s that?”
“You say the scepter has traces of dark magic. We need to know what this magic is. We need the scepter. So—”
“So we go get the scepter.” Loki grinned. “Oh, they were right, I have corrupted you.”
Sigyn smiled. “It’s all for the greater good. The end of the world is coming. Stealing is not at the top of my priorities.”
“Tonight,” Loki said, slipping into mortal guise as easily as a second skin, “No sense prolonging things. We go tonight.”
He closed his eyes and vanished, leaving Sigyn to herself.

* * *

Bruce had gathered the Avengers and Sif in his personal lab on the third floor. It was the polar opposite of the space Tony kept: neat, organized, the equipment clean and the drawers all labeled in steady print. Thor suspected the tidiness was all part of Bruce’s calming method, that and the soft classical music echoing from a radio shoved in the far corner.
He had flashed up on a large screen an image of the scepter, which was currently locked in the vault beneath the tower, the box-like machine he called a “projector” humming from its stand. Sif eyed it suspiciously at first, but eventually loosened her grip on her spear, propping it against Bruce’s desk. Bruce had assumed an instructor-like manner as he stood before them with his hands clasped behind his back. He tapped at the screen and the colors changed to a murky green, darkest at the blue light at the tip, the staff veined with black. Tony raised his hand as he slumped over in his chair.
“Is that some sort of molecular reading?”
“Energy readings,” Bruce corrected. “The energy found in the Tesseract is denoted by the green. As you can see, it is present in the scepter’s tip.”
“Then, what’s the black?” Steve asked, his arms crossed over his chest.
Bruce nodded. “This is what I wanted to show you. The energy here is something different. It’s an unidentified source, and a powerful one. It’s distributed throughout the entire staff, flowing through it, almost like a current. It’s very…restless.”
“Dark magic,” Thor muttered. The others all turned to stare at him. He went on. “It’s dark magic, or energy, as you call it. Very rare. My grandfather devoted himself to hunting it down and destroying it, or at least hiding it away. It is…disturbing that darkness in this quantity could have escaped us.”
“Thor, are you sure?” Sif’s brow was knit with concern. “The Inner Vaults haven’t been breached for centuries. It would have had to come from another source.”
“It’s just…Loki, he read about it, about everything,” Thor said quickly. He didn’t like to linger on past memories of his brother. “I never listened, and now I wish I had. He was very perceptive. He could sense it. It would take someone very skilled or very dark to handle it.”
“I believe Loki fits both of those categories,” Sif said flatly and Thor swallowed.
“That’s what I thought at first,” Bruce interjected, tapping the screen. “It’s just…I’m not sure Loki is the one handling it.”
A new image appeared, a seedy video from the compound originally housing the Tesseract. It showed Loki disarming the archer, Clint, and pressing the tip of the blade to his chest. Clint seemed to go limp, relaxing, slipping his gun into his holster.
Natasha’s frown deepened, and Thor got the impression she had studied this particular footage many times herself. “What are we looking for?”
Bruce tapped the screen and the image magnified so that they could see both Clint and Loki’s faces. Thor leaned in. He had never seen this footage before, and it struck him how…sick Loki looked. His eyes were red-rimmed, his balance unsteady, his face slick with sweat and grime and white as a sheet. It contrasted greatly with Clint’s healthy, alert demeanor.
“Watch it closely,” Bruce said and played the footage again.
There was nothing to see. Loki touched the scepter, Clint was his. He breathed out, and the assassin seemed to take his breath in. Seamless magic.
“His eyes,” Natasha called out suddenly, “Play it again, Bruce, and look at the eyes.”
Yes, as soon as the scepter touched him, they faded to black, then a muted blue, dull and unseeing. A dead color.
“Same as the Tesseract,” Sif muttered, more to herself than to those around her.
Bruce nodded approvingly. “Exactly. The energy seems to flow into him: first the black, to, I’m assuming, break down the mind’s defenses, then the Tesseract’s blue, to transmit the commands, like a portal in the mind.”
“But what does this have to do with Loki?” Thor said hesitantly, glancing at Sif. “He has to be the one controlling the scepter, or else the magic wouldn’t work.”
“Channeling it, yes. But otherwise…take a look.”
The camera angle shifted so that they had a clear view of Loki’s face. His look of concentration, his narrowed eyes, his smile as it worked, the satisfaction evident in his face, his blue eyes wide. Blue. Blue eyes.
“I don’t understand.”
“What color are Loki’s eyes normally, Thor?” Bruce asked, though he guessed he already knew the answer.
“Green,” Thor said firmly. “Always. They’re very striking.”
“So you’re saying that Loki can’t be in complete control,” Steve said slowly, “Because someone is controlling him as well.”
“Yes,” said Bruce. “That’s exactly what I’m saying.”
Natasha stood up suddenly and stormed from the room. Thor swallowed. Sif and Tony stared at their shoes as she pushed past them.
“Give her time,” Bruce murmured as he switched off the projector. “She’s angry, but she’s smart. She’ll understand; she just needs some time to process.”
“Because of Clint?”
Bruce frowned, his glasses slipping down his nose. “Yes. That’s something else I was hoping we could talk about. Because Clint has not been doing well.”

* * *

Loki had been shopping, that was true in part, but he had finished in less than two hours. Still, he hadn’t been able to return to the empty hotel room even as afternoon faded to evening. He let his feet carry him over the craggy pavement, his mind lost far above the atmosphere of the tiny world he found himself in at present.
He felt…lighter, having told someone, anyone, about what had happened, even if only part of the truth. Loki had a habit of closing in on himself; his lies were his armor, his courtesy and japes his defense. He skirted around problems, never addressing them directly, but Sigyn had backed him into a corner. Lying was second nature to him, but he found it difficult around Sigyn. Perhaps it was the stubbornness, the honesty and sincerity made permanent in the lines of her face, perhaps it was the knowledge that she trusted him, loved him even, maybe, acknowledging his faults and darker tendencies and accepting them. She did not make him change, or tell him there was something wrong with him. It was simply part of who he was, and she shrugged it aside.
He smiled to himself, ignoring the stares of passersby.
No, on the subject of Sigyn, Loki's heart could not lie.

* * *

The tiresome part about playing the villain was that the heroes were always so predictable.
True, Thanos did not consider himself a villain in every respect. He was the liberator. The avenger. Returning the Realms to their natural state and rightful darkness. The world was evil, darkness thrived in it, and now he would return it to its throne.
Odin was useless even now: too old to charge into battle, too stubborn to admit defeat, too weak to control his own sons. It was pathetic, really, he thought as he looked out from the peak, the universe flickering around him. The corners of his mouth twitched. The Midgardians believed space to be cold. In fact, it was warm at its deepest, so close to its beating heart where he now stood. Svartalfheim was a dead, dark world, but it pulsed with old magic, old evil.
He breathed it in, breathed it out, felt the rush and laughed. He was in control, all of them; they were playing right into his hand. But he would let them dance, let them scamper about his palm, before crushing them into nothing.

Chapter Text

They had searched for him for hours before finally giving up and retiring to Bruce’s lab.
Increasingly over the past months, Clint had come to cling to isolation, roaming the halls in the early morning hours and disappearing, never to be seen, during the day. He had already failed to report for two missions. His team had given up on reasoning with him. SHIELD had threatened to drop him. Clint didn’t care. He had to do this.
They didn’t understand, but they had not witnessed what he had. It wasn’t the killing; he had dealt out his share of death in his lifetime. But he had betrayed every person, every idea, every belief he held dear, and he had lived every moment of it. And what had scared Clint the most was that, at the time, he had wanted to do it. A force had taken over him, a conviction, and the scars, he was beginning to realize, would never fully heal.
If only they would just leave him alone! The voices still echoed in the back of his mind: Loki’s smooth and persistent, the other, deep and deadly and thrumming with power. They melded together with his own thoughts, whispering. He felt their anger, and it was his own, coursing through his blood, boiling beneath the skin. This sense of restlessness, of vengeance, plagued him. Sleep came sparingly, food lost its appeal, shooting only numbed it momentarily. And sometimes he would stumble to the mirror, his fingers gripping the sink’s rim, to stare at his reflection, to stare at his eyes.
Clint shifted slightly in his perch, high above Tony’s lab, and rested his head back against the metal tubing. A heavy sigh escaped him.
“Hey.”
He tilted his head to the left to watch Natasha pull herself up onto the beam beside him, her legs folding gracefully beneath her. The corners of his mouth twitched at the sight of her. She he could never hide from for long.
“Hey.”
“Thor’s back,” Natasha said stiffly, eyeing him carefully as if he might leap away from her at any moment.
“I noticed.”
“Then I’m guessing you dropped by to hear Bruce’s theory.”
“Yeah.” Clint shrugged. “What’s it matter?”
“Clint, I’ve been thinking about what they said. I don’t think you—”
“Don’t tell me it wasn’t my fault!” Clint’s muscles were tensed and his hands were bared into fists. He hadn’t meant to shout.
Natasha stared, her expression unreadable, and that made him more ashamed than if she had appeared hurt. 'What have I become?' he thought.
“I—I’m sorry,” Clint said resignedly, his hands falling limply to his sides. “I’m just tired of people trying to change what happened.”
“They’re not,” Natasha said, more gently. Her eyes refused to let his go. “But this could help with you. With you as you are now. Because if you aren’t going to try, then we certainly are.”
Clint’s gaze dropped.
“Will you speak to them?”
“I…I just need some time, that’s all.” He glanced down at the ground below them. “There’s something I need to do.”
Natasha rose into a crouch. “Then hurry. If Thor’s telling the truth, things are about to get very interesting.”

* * *

It was Loki’s idea to walk in.
They had left the hotel at half past seven and appeared in Manhattan a minute later, wearing their newly purchased Midgardian clothes and doing their best effort to appear anything but otherworldly. Loki had the appearance of a somewhat disheveled intellectual: his hair haphazardly brushed to the side, his rumpled suit and tie lopsided, a leather briefcase in one hand, his glasses perched dangerously on the tip of his nose. Sigyn had striven for the professional and perky assistant, wearing a tight skirt and blouse that forced her to shuffle instead of walk, heels that made her feet ache, and her hair piled on top of her head with a pencil holding it in place. Of course, they’d added their own embellishments through Glamours. Loki had darkened her fair hair and skin, though she had refused to let him alter her nose. Sigyn had been far less generous, adding a funny mustache and goatee and ignoring the looks of absolute loathing Loki was pointing at her.
“And this is fashion?” Sigyn said through gritted teeth as they pushed through the crowded sidewalk, tugging at the hem of her skirt. “I think I’m losing the feeling in my legs.”
“If you’d prefer, I’d wear the dress and you can keep the tie and the mustache,” Loki said, and she didn’t have to look to see the wide grin spread across his face.
“Facial hair seems like a pretty small price to pay for air.”
The street they had been following suddenly spit them out into a bustling intersection. Loki nodded to their right. “There it is. You’ll know it when you see it.”
Of course. The Avengers’ Tower, lit up with a glowing ‘A’ like a beacon.
“Subtlety certainly isn’t their style,” Loki murmured.
Sigyn cocked her head. “I think I could say the same for someone else. I’ve seen that helmet, you know.”
“You can thank the Queen for that,” Loki said over his shoulder, and Sigyn laughed.
For being the famed individuals that they were, Sigyn was surprised at the lack of security. A steady flow of men and women in suits and heavy coats passed in and out the smooth doors. But when they reached the threshold, she froze.
“Why are the doors spinning?”
Loki shrugged. “Midgardians are strange. Not to mention lazy.”
They stepped in carefully and hurried into the lobby as quickly as Sigyn’s high heels could carry her. It was a large room with high ceilings and sparse furnishings. Twisted metal sculptures stood on either side of the front desk, and paintings that looked as if the artist had thrown himself at the canvas covered the walls. A line of people waited impatiently by a set of heavy metal doors.
“So…do we just start wandering around like happy, confused little scientists?” she asked, readjusting her skirt for the umpteenth time.
“Why not? What’s the rush?” Loki smiled deviously. “Think of all the trouble the two of us could get into.”
“Oh, you disgust me,” Sigyn said teasingly, but then a seriousness came of her face. “But can you sense it?”
Loki closed his eyes for a moment, his brows arched in concentration. He opened them again. “Yes. It’s here, as I suspected. It’s somewhere below us.”
He shuddered slightly and Sigyn frowned, grabbing his arm. “Loki, what is it?”
He shrugged off her hand and scowled. “Thor is here.”

* * *

Clint’s footsteps echoed down the dim corridor, each ringing with a hollow, metallic thud. He flashed his badge at the security scanner, stepping into the cramped anteroom, the doors sealing shut behind him.
“Identification, please,” quipped Jarvis’s familiar voice from the speaker above him.
“Clinton Barton. SHIELD. Field division. Code 4611.”
“Passcode?”
He sighed. “Monolith.”
There was a soft, beeping noise and a panel slid back on the wall facing him. He pressed his thumb against it and waited. Suddenly, the room, or rather, the elevator, shot down, leaving his stomach hovering far above him. Clint shuddered. He had no fear of heights, but falling was something he preferred to avoid.
The doors slid open, dropping him into another white-washed room, fluorescent lights flickering on as he entered. And there it was, glinting wickedly beneath the glass case that secured it: Loki’s scepter.
He approached it as if in a trance, a tight feeling in his chest. Natasha said it was just a dream, a nightmare, but she was wrong. Clint could hear it, the whispers building and intensifying with each step closer. He scrunched up his face in a look of concentration, trying in earnest to shut them out, but he couldn’t.
The voices. He had to find the voices. What did they want? He had to find them.
Clint shook himself, eyes wide. His outstretched hand rested on the case’s surface. He couldn’t remember crossing the rest of the room.
Ding! The elevator doors opened up behind him, echoing a cheerful note.
“Nat,” he said through gritted teeth, tearing his eyes away from the scepter, “Now is really not a good time to—”
He froze, the words dying in his mouth.
“…but it talks.”
“Amusing, isn’t it?”
“I was thinking a little creepy, but to each his own. What do you suppose…?”
Loki strode out of the elevator. He wore a rumpled suit and had grown a funny-looking mustache to boot, but Clint would recognize him anywhere. Beside him stood a willowy blonde woman with curious violet eyes that he didn't recognize. She let her sentence trail off as she noticed Clint standing at the far end of the room, nudging Loki with her elbow.
Loki looked up and had the nerve to smile. “Well, this certainly is…interesting.”
“Why are you here?” Clint demanded, his hand reaching to his sides and finding nothing. He cursed himself inwardly. Weapons weren’t allowed past Level 3. His gun was sitting in a plastic bin several hundred feet above him.
Loki took a step forward, but the blonde woman hung back, eyeing him uncertainly. “Hello to you, too. And if you hadn’t already guessed, I have a bit of unfinished business. You see, I have a couple scores to settle myself.”
Clint shook his head. “You can’t have it. I won’t let you take it. I won’t let you hurt anyone else.”
Loki arched his eyebrows in a look of surprise. “Why would you assume I’d want to do that?”
“Because you’re a psychopath.”
The demigod laughed aloud. The woman did not.
“Loki,” she said softly, “They know we’re here. Unless you’re ready for a reunion with your brother, I suggest we wrap things up.”
He shrugged and took another step closer. “This is Sigyn,” he said, gesturing to the blonde woman. “She’s the better part of me. I suggest you step aside, or you’ll have to meet the not-so-nice part of me.”
Clint shook his head. Loki sighed exasperatedly, balled his hand into a fist, and made a sudden jabbing motion in the direction of Clint’s chest. He found himself flying through the air, his arms pin-wheeling around him before slamming into the back wall. He groaned, but when he tried to rise, he found himself pinned down by an invisible force. 'Useless again,' he thought numbly.
Loki approached the glass case with a look of concentration. Emerald sparks came to life in his hands, leaping to the case and dissolving it into nothing. But instead of claiming his prize, he stepped back, frowning.
“I can’t touch it, not here,” he said darkly to the woman—Sigyn. “He’s still there. Weak, but listening.”
“Give me that,” Sigyn said, gesturing to Loki’s suitcase. She clicked it open and muttered something under her breath. “It should fit. Can you Force it in for—”
The bag fell from her hands with a muffled thump and a shadow seemed to pass over her face. Her mouth moved wordlessly.
“Sigyn!” Loki cried out, gripping her by the shoulders, and in that moment of lost concentration, Clint felt the weight lift from his back.
He leapt to his feet, reaching for the scepter.
Loki looked up, eyes wide, “Don’t!”
There was a new edge to his voice. It was…fear. What did he mean?
But he pushed this out of his mind. He wouldn’t let him escape, not this time. Clint wrapped his hand around the scepter.
And screamed.
He was being sucked away, his very soul being ripped from his body through space, through dimensions. His blood ran cold and his heart pounded in his head.
He was standing on a mountain, looking down at the valley below. Men—his men—wove in and around it, restless, waiting.
He was in Asgard. Clint only knew it from Thor’s descriptions, but it could be nothing else, its wondrous towers beyond anything of Earth. But it was not beautiful, no. He hated it, he hated them all, he wanted to see it burn.
He was back on the mountain. The red man was waiting for him.
The red man was him.
He was standing in a white-washed room. Sparks flew and there was an angry gash running through the metal floor, as if a bomb had gone off. Loki emerged from behind a ruin of glass and metal, his arm wrapped tightly around the staggering Sigyn. He threw his hand out before him and Clint felt a sudden, tugging sensation at his hand.
'No!' he thought desperately before the scepter was ripped from his grasp, rocketing towards the dark-haired man. Loki raised the bag so that the scepter plunged point-first inside it (despite it being half its size), snapping it shut. An alarm bell blared somewhere. There was a humming sound coming from the elevator: someone else was coming down.
Loki looked regretfully back at Clint. “I warned you,” he said simply, and he, Sigyn, and the case vanished, leaving Clint standing amongst the rubble, staring down at his hands.

Chapter Text

“What happened?”
Sigyn propped herself up on her elbows, blinking uncomprehendingly at their surroundings. They weren’t in Avengers Tower, nor were they back at their London hotel room. They appeared to be in some sort of cellar, dusty barrels and boxes lining the room’s perimeter. Loki sat next to her, his face knit with concern.
“The scepter—” She bit back a shout as she tried to rise, the pounding in her head forcing her back down again.
“Over there,” Loki said, nodding at the suitcase propped up by her feet.
She sighed. “A load of good I’ve been. I must have blacked out. I was on the mountain again, only I saw…” Sigyn stopped herself mid-sentence. “Oh no.”
“I let my concentration slip,” Loki muttered angrily, avoiding her gaze. “I tried to stop him, but he wouldn’t listen. He reached for the scepter, and then everything when mad.”
“Will it fade? I mean, he doesn’t have the scepter with him.”
Loki shook his head. “It didn’t matter last time. He’s mortal. Contact alone should be enough. But without a sorcerer between him and Thanos, the magic slammed into him full force. He’ll be much more sporadic this way, but still controllable.”
Sigyn nodded, but she still had trouble wrapping her head around it all. Possession magic was decidedly not her area of expertise. Even if she had chosen to take a darker path with her life, she had finer tastes, as did Loki.
Loki was on his feet and pacing. 'Funny,' she thought, 'I don’t remember him ever doing that when he was moody.' He had several new habits it would seem: the pacing, the smiling, the laughing, the distracting. Maybe it mattered, maybe it didn’t. Or maybe Sigyn only noticed such things because, frankly, she noticed everything about Loki, and no doubt the same could be said of him about her.
“We should look it over. Here. Now,” she said firmly, pushing herself to her feet. Remembering suddenly, she blinked and their mortal disguises vanished, Loki’s face clean-shaven and her legs free of the cursed skirt.
Loki raised an eyebrow at her. “Yes. I suppose we should,” he said distantly.
Sigyn frowned, tugging the suitcase towards her by the handle. “We have to, Loki. This could be our only opportunity. We’re alone. If anything goes wrong, we ditch it and leave it for the mortals, plain and simple.”
She quirked her head to the side and smiled. “But that’d be rude of me, wouldn’t it?”
Loki smiled hesitantly, the strained muscles in his face relaxing slightly. “Sigyn, I think you’re beginning to be a bad influence on me. If I don’t stop smiling like this in front of all my enemies, people in the villain world might begin to talk. I’ve gone soft.”
He crouched down beside her, tugging open the rumpled bag, and Sigyn hid her smile behind a curtain of blonde hair.
They dumped it out on the dusty floorboards together, Sigyn inhaling sharply at the sight of it. She had sensed it in Avengers’ Tower, but now, inches from it, she could get a real grasp of its power--and how much of it there was. 'It’s so strong!' she thought, already feeling the slight tugging at her mind, the whispered lure of Dark magic sending an electric buzz through the air. She glanced up at Loki in concern. His hands were in tight fists, knuckles white as his face. He breathed heavily, and it seemed to take all his energy to remain motionless. Sigyn considered him for a moment before muttering a quick enchantment. Loki looked up in a sudden moment of panic as he found himself frozen, but he relaxed slightly at the sight of the purple haze in the air, signifying Sigyn’s magic.
She didn’t let it on, but the spell took more of her energy than she had expected, and it was all she could do to resist the scepter’s pull. 'I need to stop doing stupid things like this,' she thought, holding out her hands, palms down, and began to Recite.
Sigyn often thought of magic as a living creature, a second skin that one could take on and, as would follow, take off. And it always left traces of its owner. As she sifted through the layers of carefully woven spells, she began to form her picture of this Thanos. It would clearly take the combined powers of both her and Loki to fully unravel it (a feat she doubted Loki was up to, what with the increasingly strained expression on his face), but it was flexible enough that she could touch it and prod at it just briefly. It wanted her to, after all; it had been in limbo for months without a wielder behind it. She danced from thread to thread, her mouth set in a firm line. She mustn’t let her hands shake.
She had to focus.
She didn’t like what she saw.

* * *

Loki was disgusted with himself.
He was so…so weak. He was no better than a mortal, as useless against the scepter as the archer had been. Guiltily, he admitted to himself that it was more out of pride than love that he would do anything to be the one reading the scepter. Besides, this was his problem. And though he loved Sigyn and, as much as he could, trusted her, he hadn’t asked for her help. He needed her, but not for the reasons he suspected her of believing.
So he sat, his hands bound tight at his sides by invisible ropes as Sigyn muttered, her gaze focused on a place Loki couldn’t see and her hands steady. He prepared himself for a long and strenuous wait. Reading magic was…taxing. It could take hours or a matter of minutes; time meant nothing to it. Still, it was an unnerving business, and now Loki understood why. In past days, it had been him chanting and muttering, but now he was on the outside. Sigyn’s bottom lip was quivering. The unusual purple color of her irises had grown darker. There was dirt streaked across her chin. He waited.
The sorceress let out a sudden gasp, as if startled. Her face flushed and a shudder ran through her body. 'Damn,' he thought, his muscles tensing. That was quick. His bonds broke as Sigyn’s magic failed her, and Loki threw himself at the blonde girl, throwing her back against the far wall and away from the scepter. A wave of icy air rushed through the cellar, sending bits of dust and dirt flying. The electric lights flickered on and off before sputtering out altogether.
Sigyn blinked, staring at him uncomprehendingly. Loki gripped her by the shoulders, studying her carefully. The eyes, the eyes were all that mattered and they were violet, yes, that perfect violet. He sighed, slouching back onto the floor.
Sigyn mumbled something into the wall, closing her eyes and frowning.
Loki frowned and tapped her lightly on the arm. Nothing.
“Sigyn?” No response.
'Gods, she’s asleep,' he thought, the corners of his mouth twitching slightly. He’d be more than happy to crawl up beside her and do the same (when was the last time he'd had an undisturbed sleep?), but, no, he would have to banish the thought. Sigyn was right; they had to finish this now.
Loki turned slowly to face the scepter, his heart beating heavily. He was convinced 'he' could see them. He was watching, he was always watching, and the thought still sent shudders through him.
The trickster approached it carefully, trance-like. There it was, right before him, the device that had brought him everything he had ever wanted and destroyed him. Loki considered it a moment with a feeling of mixed reverence and disgust. The scepter pulsated, the drumming growing louder in his ears. The rafters shook. The dark seemed to grow and he heard, somewhere, a voice.
“Sigyn doesn’t think me strong enough,” Loki murmured, his hands hovering above it. “What say you, friend?”
He gripped the scepter in his hand, focused, and snapped it clean in two.

* * *

Thanos slammed back against the cave wall, breathless and seething. How dare he, how dare he after all he had done for him?
He sat contemplating the rise and fall of his chest, glaring out at the dark expanse around him. This would slow things considerably. He needed a wielder; his skills, though powerful, were…limited. He needed a key, a way in, but this rogue prince had torn his plans to pieces in less than a second.
But no matter. He wouldn’t be beaten at his own game. 'All these pieces,' Thanos thought with a twisted smile, 'Thinking they are players.'
And…All these pieces yet to be used.
He considered it for a moment, finger tapping his chin. A Midgardian, such a fledgling species in the universe, the poster-child of progress bringing about the world’s destruction. Quite a wicked irony that would be. Thanos smiled.
No, he was far from finished.

Chapter Text

Clint took in the chaotic scene around him, the ripped metal and twisted beams and smoke. There was no glass where the case had been; it had simply dissolved, leaving nothing but the clean, bare table as a weak consolation prize.
The others burst into the room poised to fight: Thor with his hammer and red cape billowing; Natasha, a pistol in each hand and a pro-wrestling magazine rolled under her arm; Steve with his shield raised above his head to fit in the elevator; Bruce standing uncomfortably behind them all in nothing but a pair of odd stretchy pants; a dark-haired woman with a spear in hand whom could only be an Asgardian; and Tony swinging a wrench with an excited gleam in his eyes. But there was only Clint standing amongst the rubble and staring at the spot where Loki had disappeared, his hands hanging uselessly at his sides. For the first time he stared down at them. A stripe had been burned across his palms. From the scepter, he realized numbly. Loki’s parting words echoed through his head again. 'I warned you.' Clint swallowed.
“Clint, what happened?”
Natasha was beside him, shaking him. He hadn’t noticed.
“I—I...” The words refused to form in his mouth, each coming up bitter and sour.
Thor frowned, nudging at a bit of rubble with his foot. “There was a fight.”
“No, really,” Tony said dryly, scratching his chin. “Maybe an explosion, too. But I’m no expert.”
“The scepter’s gone,” Bruce confirmed as he circled the stand, hoisting up his pants with both hands. “Loki?”
“Got him,” Tony said, waving his phone. “Jarvis just pulled the security footage.” He tapped the screen casually and the magnified video hologram filled the far wall.
“You have got to be kidding me…” Natasha said through gritted teeth.
There they were: Loki with his coat and suitcase and Sigyn tottering beside him. They wandered around the lobby, staring at the pieces of art before disappearing into the elevator.
“How could this have happened?” Natasha went on. “You call this security? They just walked in!”
Tony raised his hands defensively. “The lobby is public. I’ve got a company to maintain, you know. Besides, Jarvis scans everyone, and I mean everyone. The facial hair just threw him off a little, that’s all, no biggie.”
“No biggie?” Steve said incredulously, stepping out of the elevator. His face was drawn and serious.
“That’s Sigyn,” Thor said suddenly, pointing at the blonde woman.
Tony tapped at the screen again and the image zoomed in on Sigyn’s face. He whistled. “Well played, Reindeer Games.”
Natasha turned towards him, eyes narrowed. “Clint, you have to talk to us. This isn't just our problem anymore. People’s lives are at stake. So start talking.”
Clint swallowed. The others stared at him worriedly. The seconds dragged on.
He couldn’t do it. Something kept holding him back, whispering faintly in the back of his head.
Natasha grabbed him roughly by the arm, spinning him around and slamming his chest into the stand.
“Nat, what are you doing?” Steve asked quietly.
“Clint Barton, you are now under the authority of SHIELD and suspect for sabotage,” she said tightly and he heard the familiar click of handcuffs. There was a slight strain in her voice, as if something were tugging painfully at her vocal chords. “You will report directly to Director Fury for further questioning. Understood?”
Clint nodded slowly. “Understood.”

* * *

“You’re an idiot.”
“I know.”
“A first class fool.”
“Duly noted.”
“Loki, you’re a damn idiot.”
“Don’t swear, Sigyn, it’s not very becoming of you.”
“Why, I ask myself, did I rescue you in the first place?”
Loki grinned and planted a kiss on Sigyn’s lips. She smirked at him and grabbed him by the collar, pulling him in for another. They’d made the most of things in their momentary victory in the dusty cellar. Conjured orbs of emerald light floated above them as bits of Dark metal splattered the walls, dissolving as its energy abandoned it. There was an icy chill in the air, a faint tingling sensation. A fat spider had fallen from the shaken ceiling and was scuttling aimlessly around the dirt floor. Romantic.
“When do you think the mortals will come back?” Sigyn said between kisses as Loki nestled against her.
Loki wrapped his arm around her waist. “Hmm. I doubt even Thor could sleep through that explosion, so I believe they aren’t home. SHIELD will be sending a swarm of agents to poke around soon, no doubt.”
“We can turn them into hermit crabs like at Sirens’ Shore,” Sigyn murmured, resting her head on his shoulder.
Loki cocked his head. “You still remember that?”
Sigyn laughed and stuck her tongue out at him. “Of course. One doesn’t forget such a beating as the one we got afterwards.”
“‘Now young lady,’” Loki mimicked in the nasally voice of their old nurse, “‘Turn Master Grun back into himself.’”
Sigyn snorted and buried her face in Loki’s sleeve. She didn’t want to open her eyes. Always, she had felt a sense of urgency in their love. Perhaps it was the millenniums apart, the unanswered letters and ambitions and destinies. Perhaps it was, having found him at last, not as the sneering man who attacked Midgard but as her Loki, she feared of losing him. Perhaps she feared she would soon become a victim herself. It had occurred to Sigyn many times that Loki could be lying to her, playing her. But she didn’t care. 'Surely this,' Sigyn thought as she curled against Loki, 'Surely this is genuine.'
But she also had another duty, another promise. Loki would stay here beside her as long as she wanted, but she could never close her mind long enough for that.
Sigyn stood up, untangling herself from Loki’s arms. She knelt beside the ruins of the scepter even as it seeped into the dusty ground. “Time to compare notes.”
Loki straightened himself, his face instantly becoming a mask of concentration. “He’s closer. I can feel it. The magic is…stronger. More persistent. But it’s brittle. He’s forcing it, pushing it too hard. A Snap was inevitable.”
Sigyn frowned. “He must have been putting a good portion of his energy into it for the magic to overload like that. And that shows he’d not as skilled a caster as we first suspected.”
“Too aggressive, too brash,” Loki muttered in agreement. “Like someone else I know.”
Sigyn moved on quickly, not wishing to bring the discussion to a certain golden-haired relative of his. “You were right about Thanos’s origins, I think. He’s certainly not Asgardian. He doesn’t belong in any of the Nine Realms.”
“An Outerworlder,” Loki said, “Interesting.”
“He’s very bitter,” Sigyn went on. “Revenge is his center, the emotion and source he draws from as he casts. His magic will be powerful and easily led astray, but he’s smart enough to have mastered some restraint. Manipulating him will prove…tricky, I think.”
“Doubtful.”
“Excuse me, I forgot I was working with the master,” Sigyn said with mock reverence, curtseying.
“So is our friend somewhere floating about in space?” Loki prompted her.
Sigyn shook her head. “No. It was…dark. Everywhere there was stone. There was no wind. It was all still, like a dead world. Like…”
She trailed off, staring at the stained floor. “Like my dream. It’s always the same three places: the mountains, the tree in Asgard, and the dark place. This is the dark place. This must be where he’s hiding.”
“Svartalfheim,” Loki said softly, almost reverently, “The home of the Dark Elves. Or what was the Dark Elves.”
“Lots of old magic there,” Sigyn murmured, “Old and dark magic. Makes sense.”
Loki stood up suddenly, brushing off his pants and a crooked grin on his face.
“What?” Sigyn asked, a smile creeping across her face.
“I think it’s time we pay Thanos a visit.”
“But it’s just the two of us.”
“Exactly. Three's a crowd. Besides, we’re the two most powerful sorcerers in the Nine Realms. I think we can handle this.”
Sigyn raised an eyebrow. “This is so unlike you, charging in without a plan.”
Loki shrugged, helping her to her feet. “My plans haven’t been working too well as of late. Let’s just say I’m tired of all this cat-and-mouse and would like to run my knife through Thanos’s heart instead.”
He planted a kiss straight on her lips after he spoke, but Sigyn couldn’t hide a slight shudder. She could be cold, but she wasn’t cruel. 'I’ll have to watch him carefully,' she reminded herself, and remembered.
“Wait. Drop our Glamours just for a moment so Heimdall can see us. Just in case something goes wrong, we need to let someone know where the real threat is.”
Loki sighed. “Oh, Sigyn, always so noble. Sometimes I forget you can be quite the angel. Fine, do as you wish.”
Sigyn glared at Loki before turning to face the far wall. She raised her hands and purple sparks shot from her fingertips, curling into letters on the plaster. In neat, curly script appeared the word ‘Svartalfheim’ with a delicate flourish at the end. She took a moment to admire her work before stepping back and grabbing Loki’s hands. Together they closed their eyes and vanished.

* * *
Clint lay flat on his back on his cell’s metal bench, his hands folded over his chest. He’d forgotten Avenger’s Tower even had a prison block, but, then again, it had everything.
They’d led him down the hall and up the elevator in silence and had dumped him inside without as much as a ‘good-bye’ or a ‘hey, get well soon.’ He probably deserved it, but that thought did nothing to comfort him. Now as he sat alone in the quiet he felt strangely…indifferent to the entire situation. Hours earlier he would have throttled Loki the first chance he got; now his mind was heavy as lead and his blood ran like molasses. The energy, the anger, the drive from the encounter had left him, and now he was empty.
But there was something else there. Something humming in the back of his mind, something he couldn’t understand.
It droned on and on and Clint listened and waited.
And then something happened and he understood. He understood everything.

Chapter Text

Loki was furious, but he hid it well.
He loved Sigyn, he was sure of it, but there were stark differences between them that would also fight tooth and claw to drive them apart. She didn’t understand, she didn’t understand how the game worked. Sigyn simply didn’t have the heart to play like he did. Of course, Sigyn could be perfectly wicked when she chose to be, but that didn’t hide the fact that she was too good, too just, too pure, too…right. Many of Asgard’s people would consider her a traitor now, he knew, but though her actions would say otherwise, Sigyn was incorruptible.
Maybe that was why he liked her so much: the challenge.
And now they were finally on their way to end it all, and she had left a glowing trail for Thor and all his meddling Midgardian pals to tag along after them. 'I’m not going back to Asgard, not in chains,' Loki thought coldly, 'I’ll leave her behind if that’s what it takes.'
But the moment he thought it he pictured Sigyn’s wide eyes, the gleam of her hair, the feel of her small hand in his and he took it back.
'Scratch that. I’ll tie her hands behind her back and drag her away with me if that’s what it takes.'
But that felt wrong, too.
They stumbled out onto the black planet hand-in-hand, staring out into a dark valley. Svartalfheim was a mass of craggy stone and ashes, and the wind whipped and whistled over the dead landscape. Sigyn’s blonde hair blew over her eyes and she angrily blasted it back with a wave of her hand. Their Asgardian clothes flapped noisily around them, and the sound of their breaths seemed to have amplified on the quiet hill.
They stared at each other, and no words were needed. The weight of the place seemed to settle on their shoulders, hovering over them and panting down their necks. Loki breathed it in and out and felt…stronger. Sigyn watched him with wide eyes as he began to laugh despite himself. She turned away.
The two of them picked their way down the slope at a leisurely pace, making no efforts at concealing themselves. Loki was sure Thanos had been aware of their presence from the moment they landed. 'Besides,' he thought as they stepped down into the rocky plateau. 'It would be much easier if he would come to us. I have other things to do, surely.'
Sigyn froze, swaying, and Loki grabbed her by the shoulder as she shuddered.
“I know this place,” she said vaguely, and pulled herself from his grasp, running against the wind.
“Sigyn, don’t do something stupid,” Loki called after her, quickening his pace to catch up.
She pointed excitedly. “There. He’s there, I know it. The red man was there in the black mountains. And there were others, Loki, thousands, millions, chanting his name. What a sight! Can you imagine it? The sound of it, can you imagine it?”
“Yes,” Loki said under his breath. But it was not Thanos’s name he heard.
Sigyn tapped each jutting rock formation as she ran, as if greeting each as an old friend. Her chest rose and fell heavily and her eyes shone. “Just around the corner. The mountain…we…you’ll see it, too.”
Her blonde hair whipped around a sharp corner and Loki cursed, digging his heels into the dirt in time to stop himself from careening over the cliff as the ground fell away before him. He turned angrily to face Sigyn, but he cut himself off as he took in her frozen face. The blonde woman’s mouth moved wordlessly. Loki looked out into the valley and instantly understood.
There was a mountain, dark and imposing and dead like everything else, and surrounding it were the ashen remains of a camp: abandoned fire pits, bits of metal and twisted iron, scraps of torn fabric. Ash and wind curled in lazy spirals. The silence swallowed them.
“I—I…” Sigyn fumbled for words.
Loki stared. “They knew. How did they know?”
“I’m not mad,” Sigyn was whispering, her eyes glistening. “They were here, they were here, I swear.”
Loki looked out at the abandoned campsite for a moment. He turned to Sigyn and slowly put his arm around her.
“I would have believed you, camp or no camp,” he murmured into her hair.
She swallowed and he reluctantly released her.
“What do we do now?” Sigyn said hoarsely.
Loki opened his mouth to speak when Sigyn shouted and the world went to chaos.

* * *

The house was empty, save for its elderly Italian residents who were quickly escorted off-site by two SHIELD agents in dark suits. Bruce had rushed into the kitchen where they sat in silence, shouting excitedly about energy readings and some strange Midgardian place Thor didn’t recognize, and they were suited up and off in less than a minute. Thor had flown ahead of the jet, but he was too late, of course. Loki was long gone, and it had been foolish to get his hopes up—then they found Sigyn’s message.
'So she is still on our side,' he thought as he examined the shimmering letters with narrowed eyes. 'You were wrong on that account, father.'
Sif eyed the scene wearily from the stairwell. She had always been suspicious of magic, and perhaps that was why she had never taken to Loki. Then again, few people ever took to his brother.
Bruce and Tony paced about the cellar amongst the crowd of suit-clad agents and scientists, chattering animatedly and waving a sort of scanner in front of them. In the corner, Steve and Natasha stood restlessly, waiting for an enemy to so much as dare take a breath, if there were any. And at the foot of the steps, separated by a thick ring of yellow tape, was the scepter, or what was left of it. The weapon had become nothing more than a metallic soup, slowly consuming itself, the magic snapping and crackling like flames.
“What went wrong?” Sif asked quietly, leaning against the railing.
Thor frowned, turning away from the writing. “I don’t know. Loki and Sigyn were here though, that is certain.”
Bruce appeared beside them, his face suddenly serious. “Perhaps it wasn’t what went wrong, but what went right. Listen to this.”
“What we have here,” Tony said in what he assumed was intended to be a clipped, professional tone, waving the scanner, “Is some really neat high-tech scientific hardware that I won’t bother explaining because Bruce is the only one who cares. Which I appreciate.”
Bruce grinned. “That’s why I’m here.”
Tony went on. “Anyway, the readings for this dark energy—magic, whatever you want to call it—were off the charts when SHIELD first detected it, but now they’re plummeting. It’s like the energy is…dying. It’s not being converted. It’s just…gone.”
“I’m no expert,” Steve said slowly, “But energy can’t just disappear like that; it has to go somewhere. Unless that’s changed since the forties.”
“Maybe it is disappearing,” Natasha said, gesturing to the scepter soup. “Then, where is it going? Or, thinking as an Asgardian, who is summoning it?”
Slowly, they turned in unison to stare at the wall, and the one word message Sigyn had left them.
“Svartflheim,” Thor read, his voice echoing off the tight cellar walls.
“One of the Nine Realms?” Steve asked.
He nodded. “Yes. But it’s a dead world. Its former inhabitants were the Dark Elves, a powerful, ancient race. They sought to expand themselves and it ended in a long, bloody war and the death of their entire race. Now the planet is nothing but ash and rock.”
“Cheery,” Tony muttered.
“It could be a trap,” Natasha said, glaring at the glowing letters.
Thor shook his head. “I don’t think so. Sigyn is leaving us a trail. We have to trust her.”
“Thor, I know you want to think the best of her,” Sif said in a low voice. “She is a friend of mine as well. But she has cast her lot with Loki. We cannot afford to trust her.”
“We can’t sit around and do nothing either,” Steve said, ignoring Natasha’s stare. “This is our only lead on finding Loki…and possibly some answers about this…controller.”
“For Clint,” he added softly.
They lapsed into a heavy silence, eyeing each other to see who would dare speak out first. Thor rested his fist on his chin, thinking. Tony fidgeted with the knobs of his transmitter and Bruce wiped his glasses on his sleeve again.
Steve sighed exasperatedly. “We vote then. All in favor of following them to Svartal-whatever—”
He held his hand high. Slowly, Bruce and Thor joined him. Thor was surprised to see Sif raising her hand as well.
“I don’t like it,” she said stiffly. “But we don’t have much of a choice.”
“Those who would rather pursue…other methods,” Steve said.
Natasha’s hand shot up.
The captain frowned. “Tony?”
He shrugged. “I abstain. As long as we catch that son of a gun, I don’t care how.”
“Alright, then.” Steve turned to Sif. “Can you get us all to this…planet?”
Thor frowned. “We can signal Heimdall, but—”
“Hush, Thor, the captain asked me,” Sif said with a gleam in her eyes.
Steve smiled.
“Make that minus one,” Bruce said and all eyes were on him. He pulled anxiously at the edge of his shirt. “Well…uh…I was thinking we should keep someone here to…to watch Clint. Make sure he doesn’t do anything. We don’t know what happened down there, so I thought I could run some tests or something. Besides, I don’t think setting the other guy loose on an unfamiliar planet is the wisest of decisions.”
Steve nodded. “Good idea. The rest of us…well, we’re all suited up. Ma’am?”
Sif smiled at Steve again. “Everybody outside.”
“Oh, this’ll be fun,” Tony said excitedly as they lined up outside of the villa. “Being sucked through space faster than light will definitely be something to tell the grandkids about.”
“It is not so bad,” Thor said, grinning. “Most only get sick the first couple times.”
“Great.”
“Heimdall,” Sif called out to the sky and then they were being pulled up and away.

They landed in a warzone.
Bits of rock and dust shot out around them and the combined sound of heavy, thumping footsteps, clanking metal and pained screams was deafening. They stood on a cliff overlooking the chaos, and it was impossible to tell what the attacking shapes were in the dim light, let alone who the enemy was. Mjolnir was already waiting in his hand, thrumming with excitement. The others tensed beside him, Steve with his shield, Sif her spear, and Natasha with a pistol in each hand.
“Hold on a second,” Tony said through gritted teeth, pressing a button on his wristwatch. Red and gold metal folded out of nowhere, enveloping his civilian clothes, the light in his chest flickering to life.
“Let’s do this.”
“Wait!”
They followed the direction of Natasha’s outstretched arm where it pointed into the midst of the fight. Thor gaped and the others fell silent beside him.
“No way,” Tony muttered from behind his helmet.
The army of black-clad soldiers had formed a ring around two darting figures. They moved their arms in powerful, sweeping movements, and green and purple sparks shot out in all directions. On one side an entire squad of troops found themselves floating helplessly in the air; opposite them another unfortunate cluster flailed about desperately as roots shot up from the ground to pin them down. Loki and Sigyn stood back to back, throwing curses left and right, their foreheads slick with sweat and their voices hoarse from casting.
“So…who do we attack?” Tony asked once they had recovered from their shock.
Natasha sighed. “Who do you think?”
And they threw themselves at the remains of the black forces.
Thor swung his hammer into the gut of an unsuspecting soldier, sending him and those within ten feet of him rocketing into the cliff face. An archer pointed his bow at Steve and Thor brought Mjolnir down on his arm, and the man crumpled. After that, it was all a blur. The ground shook and the colors seemed to deepen into nothing but shades of black, black and red. He swung and swung and they fell around him until the valley began to thin. 'They’re retreating,' Thor thought as he knocked a thrown axe out of the air. And then they were gone and he was panting with his hands on his knees…
…And Loki standing before him.
“I was wondering when you’d arrive,” he drawled, brushing his tangled hair out of his eyes. “You’re always so eager to save the day.”
Sigyn appeared beside him, her face flushed and her hands shaking slightly. “That was…exhilarating.”
“Were the snow crabs you or me?” Loki asked, nudging a scuttling creature with his foot.
“Hmm, must have been you,” Sigyn said, bending over to study the tiny crustacean. “I did the bay beetles.”
“Fascinating,” Loki said, crouching beside Sigyn to look at the colorful bugs gathered at her feet.
“What the hell is going on?” Tony walked stiffly up to them, the mask of his armor retracting to reveal his face.
The others joined them. Thor noticed Natasha hadn’t lowered her guns yet and even Sif and Steve hadn’t dropped their weapons.
“Good question,” Thor said, narrowing his eyes.
Loki straightened himself and blinked innocently at them. “Nothing out of the usual for you, I’m afraid.”
Sigyn placed her fingers on her temples, grimacing. Loki grabbed her arm, his forehead creased with concern.
“He’s gloating,” the sorceress said, eyes squeezed shut. “The army is long gone. This was only an outpost—a tease.”
“Of course,” Loki said with a sigh. He turned away from them. “Well, nice talking to you, but we’ll be off now—”
Thor caught Loki by the arm, dragging him and Sigyn back. His brother glared at him, brushing his hand off.
“What do you want, Thor?” he sneered. “To bring me to justice? Sorry, but we’re a bit busy saving all of civilization right now.”
Sif snorted. “You? I don’t think so.”
“Are you all this blind?” Sigyn shouted suddenly, her hands balling into fists and her hair whipping around her face.
Natasha frowned. “Are you Sigyn?”
“Yes,” she said haughtily, “And I didn’t bring you here to be enemies, so you can put your weapons down. You’ve nothing to fear.”
“You really think we’re going to fall for that?” Tony said.
Steve seemed to consider for a moment before raising a hand resignedly. “Back down, guys.”
Reluctantly, they lowered their weapons.
Loki grinned. “Now that we’re friends, how about we all just sit down for a bit, yes?”
He and Sigyn dropped to the ground instantly, ignoring the prone forms and various insects and reptiles scurrying around them. Slowly, the Avengers followed suit. Thor sat back on his knees, ready to tackle Loki at a moment’s notice. Mjolnir wasn’t far from his side. He made eye contact with Steve sitting across from him. A silent agreement passed between them. If he bolts, you grab him.
“Lovely weather,” Loki said pleasantly as a cloud of ash blew past them.
“Scepter,” Steve prompted.
“Destroyed,” Loki said with a wave of his hand. “It's power's been sent back to its source. Sigyn traced it. We followed it here.”
The others stared blankly.
Sigyn wrinkled her face in concentration. “I sort of…examined it. I followed its thread of magic to its source, which was Thanos.”
“Thanos?” Thor repeated. “That is not an Asgardian name.”
“That’s because he’s no Asgardian,” Sigyn explained, and Thor noticed Loki had taken a sudden interest in the ground as she spoke. “Loki met him in deep space. He’s an Outerworlder and sorcerer, to an extent. Powerful, ambitious. He led the Chitauri, though he is not one of them. These men--” She nodded to one of the crabs circling her foot. "--are from scattered worlds. Mercenaries. From outside of the Realms."
She stared at the ground. "In my dreams, he was rallying them together, promising greatness."
"And they would follow him blindly?" Thor asked, shaking his head in disgust.
"These are men from small places. It wouldn't be difficult."
"People will do a lot of things for power and their own place in the world," Steve said quietly and Sigyn nodded.
Her eyes wandered over nervously to Loki. “But after the events on Midgard we think he’s planning something else,” she said quickly. “We thought it best to—”
“Hold on,” Tony interrupted, frowning. “There’s a bit of a hole in your story. Why did he want to attack us in the first place? This one’s for you, Reindeer Games.”
Loki glared at them. “This isn’t about what he did; this is about what he’s doing. And that’s returning the Nine Realms to its rule by the olden ways.”
“Dark magic,” Thor muttered angrily. "The ability to destroy a world at a whim."
“Which is why he needed a sorcerer, someone who understood it and could help...apply it.”
“My, my, you two seem to be on friendly terms,” Natasha said icily.
An uncomfortable silence fell over them.
“If this is about what happened to your archer friend,” Loki said in a low voice. “Then he brought it upon himself.”
Steve frowned. “Brought what?”
Loki raised an eyebrow in surprise. “You mean nothing has happened yet?” He looked at Sigyn. “Our Outerworlder is weaker than we thought.”
“Or more patient,” Sigyn replied.
“Loki, wait,” Thor said before the conversation could get carried away. “What should be happening to Clint?”
“You haven’t figured it out yet?” Loki sighed heavily. “The scepter itself doesn’t control people. It merely establishes the link, and then anyone who touches the line of magic is under Thanos’s power.”
“He means that if the scepter is destroyed, unless the mind of either person on each end is disabled, then its victims are still under Thanos’s control,” Sigyn added, her gaze meeting Natasha’s.
The red-haired woman shook her head in disgust. “So he’s a pawn again.”
Loki seemed to consider something for a moment before turning to face Steve. “Is he contained?”
“He’s a person, you know,” Steve said flatly, “Not some disease you stick under a microscope.”
“Fine. Is this person in some form of solitary confinement?”
“He was when we left,” Steve said slowly.
Loki nodded. “Let him out.”
“What?” they said in unison.
Thor stared. “You said so yourself that he was—”
“Clever,” Sigyn said, a grin spreading across her pale face. “Playing him at his own game.”
Tony raised his hand. “And what about letting our possessed friend loose is a good idea?”
Loki smiled. “The trail goes cold here. Sigyn and I can search for traces of magic, but Thanos doesn't tend to leave messes. It’s unlikely that we’ll find anything. But if we release the pawn and watch what he does, we’ll know exactly what Thanos’s next move is. And perhaps what he’s after.”
The others exchanged glances. Loki smiled expectantly at them. Thor stared at each of his comrades’ faces: Sif’s defiant, Tony’s hesitant, Steve’s tense, and Natasha’s icy cold. A sprinkling of ash brushed over them. Ever so slightly, Natasha nodded.
Thor blinked and they lunged. Steve raised his shield as Sif and Natasha threw themselves at Loki and Sigyn…only for their boots to slam into empty space.
“Really, you’ll have to do better than that,” Loki sighed and they looked up to see the two Asgardians standing on the cliff. He smirked and the apparitions of he and Sigyn appeared again, sitting cross-legged on either side of Tony with bored expressions across their faces. Sigyn snickered as Tony shot back, his suit clanking loudly.
“We can’t leave you to your own devices,” Steve called out to them, lowering his shield only an inch. “You’re wanted enemies of Earth and Asgard.”
“Oh, but I have a better idea than dragging us home in chains,” Loki said, eyes narrowed. He smiled. “Let’s make a deal.”

Chapter Text

Sigyn could sense instantly that something was not right from the moment their feet met the cold tile floor. Something about the energy in the air…the balance…felt wrong. Loki was tense beside her; he felt it, too. And the red-haired woman, if not reading into something in the air, had sensed their unease and was on edge.
A man with tousled brown hair and a pair of glasses hanging from his ear burst through the door, skidded slightly on the slick floor, and ran up to them. He doubled over, hands on his knees, panting.
“Clint…voices…explosion…gone, just gone!” he babbled, clutching his side.
“Bruce, Bruce buddy, calm down,” Tony said, grabbing him by the shoulders and shaking him gently. “Slower.”
Bruce heaved for a minute. “Clint,” he finally managed, “Was doing okay. I checked. But then things got…weird. His energy readings spiked. He was…talking to someone. Then, he just kind of…exploded.”
“Wait, wait, wait,” Tony said, narrowing his eyes. “Clint did what?”
“I don’t know! The cell blocks a mess and he’s just…gone!”
Bruce clutched his side and began to breathe carefully, counting the seconds.
Tony let his hands slip off the man’s shoulders and grinned at the rest of them. “He’ll be fine. Looks like you won’t get to see our friend’s party trick today.”
Sigyn stared. “What?”
“He sort of…turns into a giant green rage monster,” Tony said, shrugging. “It’s complicated.”
Bruce noticed her and Loki standing arm-in-arm for the first time. His hands seemed to instinctually curl into fists.
“Oh, come on, I leave you guys unsupervised for one mission and you bring back—”
“Whoa, whoa there, buddy,” Tony said quickly, pushing Bruce’s fists down. “I’d like to throw him out the window just as much as you do. In fact, probably more than you do. But we’ve got a bit of a deal.”
Bruce wiped his glasses. “You’re kidding me.”
“Clint’s cell,” the red-haired woman prompted, crossing her arms stubbornly over her chest, “I need to see it with my own eyes.”
The scientist shook his head. “I’ve looked it over about a dozen times myself. Like I said, he’s just gone.”

“Well, that is unfortunate.”
Loki stuck his nose through the charred hole that was the cell door, examining the wreckage with a critical eye.
Sigyn poked the remains of a metal bench with her toe. “Impressive. For a mortal.”
“Newly renovated,” Tony grumbled.
The red woman—Natasha, Loki had informed her—was crouched in the midst of the debris, studying the scars torn through the floor like something almost sacred.
“Tony, can you pull up the footage?” the captain—Steve, she recalled—called over to them from down the hall.
Tony grinned and tapped at a button on his watch. “What’d you catch, Jarvis?”
A bright screen appeared on the wall opposite them and Sigyn flinched back as she found them looking down at the space they stood in now, only in the image it was lacking the gaping hole in the wall. The archer was lying back on the bench, his hands folded over his chest, staring. There was something strangely…calm about his face.
“Speed it up to right before the break out,” Tony ordered and the picture flicked past too quickly for her to make out anything of importance.
He was standing now, pacing back and forth with a look of intense concentration. Natasha took a step closer to the screen, her fingertips touching her chin. Clint was growing increasingly agitated. His hands ran through his hair over and over again. The muttering started. This only seemed to make him angrier.
“His orders must be extremely against his natural beliefs to create such a level of stress,” Loki said thoughtfully, as if studying a creature in an old tome rather than a man being driven mad by a voice in his head.
“Great,” Tony muttered. He frowned at the screen, tapped a button on his wrist, and the footage sped up once more.
“Watch…here!”
The archer was frozen in place, the tip of his nose only an inch or two away from the metal wall. He seemed to be concentrating, breathing in and out with an unusual precision. Slowly, he raised his palm and placed it against the metal. And the wall exploded. The smoke cleared, and the cell was empty.
Thor gaped. “How...?”
Tony pressed another button and the footage looped again. Hand. Metal. Explosion. Empty cell.
“And to your knowledge your friend has never possessed any form of supernatural powers?” Loki said, tilting his head up ever so slightly as he studied the screen.
“No,” Natasha said firmly, folding her arms over her chest. “Clint’s always been a bit superstitious, but his skills are all taught.”
“This is more complicated than we thought,” Sigyn said under her breath. She directed her next words at Natasha.
“It’s very rare to see a Possession at this extent. The practice was banned more or less centuries ago. Those with enough dark power to do it have been dead for just as long, and the rest of us who have the ability prefer to…avoid that field.”
“He’s channeled Thanos’s own powers through his body,” Loki explained, picking at his nails. “A spell like that would take an enormous amount of focus, will, and, not to mention, a lack of any form of moral conscious.”
“There must be a way to stop him,” Steve said suddenly, breaking his silence. “Some sort of flaw.”
“A kill switch of sorts,” Bruce prompted before glancing at Natasha. “Sorry. Bad choice of words.”
Sigyn looked at Loki, watching the gears whir into motion behind his green eyes. The corners of her mouth curled into a small smile.
“They’re still adjusting to each other: Clint and Thanos, that is,” Loki began carefully, tapping his finger on his chin. “It’ll be extremely taxing. They’ll need time to rest in between until they’ve worked out all the kinks.”
“These ‘kinks’ being Clint’s resolve?” Steve prompted and Sigyn narrowed her eyes at him. She had always assumed him to be a warrior through and through, like Thor, like Sif, but she was beginning to see he was much more perceptive than she had given him credit. And, not to mention, he was rather blunt about these things.
“We need to find him,” Thor said firmly, retrieving his hammer from where he had propped it up against the wall. “For his own sake as much as our own.”
“Yes, a noble proposition, but how do you suggest we go about doing that?” Loki said pointedly.
An uncomfortable silence settled over the hall as the two brothers regarded each other with narrowed eyes. Sigyn quietly placed her hand on Loki’s shoulder and dug her nails into his skin. 'Don’t you dare.'
“What about the Tesseract?”
Sif appeared from behind Thor, glaring at Loki. "That's what you seemed so keen on last time."
“It's safe on Asgard,” Thor said in a deep voice, reluctantly letting his gaze drop from Loki’s.
“The safe part is up for debate,” Loki said, the corner of his mouth twitching. “But Thanos would be a fool to strike at Asgard with one Midgardian, not when he has an army somewhere.”
Thor frowned. “The Casket?”
“Worthless. He’s an Outerworlder, not a Jotun.”
“Gauntlet?”
“Asgard, again. And the gems are scattered.”
“Aethar?”
“Doubtful.”
Thor let his hammer drop to the floor with a heavy thunk, cracking the metal. “Then what does he want?”
“Excuse me, sir,” a clipped, mechanical voice announced.
“What is it, Jarvis?” Tony asked immediately to what appeared to be the open air.
Sigyn tensed. “Something’s wrong,” she whispered to Loki and he slowly nodded.
“As requested, I am notifying you that your lab has been accessed by SHIELD personnel,” the voice continued, “Would you like me to—”
“Do these SHIELD personnel have a name?” Tony said wearily, running his hands through his hair.
“It was accessed by Agent Barton, sir.”
Natasha groaned audibly.
“I guess he didn’t go far,” Steve said dryly, hefting his shield on his arm.
“Why would he hide here?” Bruce asked, pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. He glanced anxiously at Tony. “Which lab is this?”
“The prototype and testing lab, Mr. Banner,” Jarvis said.
Bruce swallowed. “Ah.”
Tony sighed. “Not again—”
Sigyn grabbed on to Loki’s arm right as the ceiling exploded.

* * *
Thor thrust his arm upward and Mjolnir burst through the pile of rubble, dust clouds causing him to cough and rub at his eyes. He squinted at the ruined hall around him as wires spat out sparks and the air began to clear. Someone sneezed behind him, no, on his left, or was it right—it was impossible to tell with the ringing in his ears.
There was a flash of red, blue and metal as Steve appeared beside him, lifting his shield to reveal both Sif and Natasha, both slightly battered but unharmed.
“Jarvis,” someone sputtered from across the hall, “We need to talk about our guest policy sometime.”
Tony stood unharmed, protected by his iron suit that had appeared out of nowhere. He looked up and nodded ever so slightly.
“One, two…hey, I think our headcount is one short,” he said, glancing around the ruins of the hall. “Where’s Brucey?”
In answer there was a groan from beneath the concrete. A not entirely…human groan.
Natasha pulled herself out of the wreckage, rubbing her temples. “Shi—”
A green fist burst from the concrete, scrabbling for a hold.
“This is…problematic,” Thor said, stepping back, Mjolnir tight in his fist.
“About that new calming method you two said you had in the works,” Steve said hesitantly, raising his shield, “How’s that coming?”
Tony shrugged, his face hidden behind the mask. “Er, about that. That may or may not have been an excuse for me to steal the doctor from SHIELD for the weekends.”
A roar shook the floor and chunks of fried metal dropped from the ceiling.
“I wanted to redo the basement anyway,” Tony said quickly. “Time to go.”
He grabbed Steve by the arm and blasted into the air, soldier in tow. Thor glanced apologetically at the two women.
“I’ll just…take your arms and—”
“Calm down, Thor, I’ve only known you for about a thousand years,” Sif said, rolling her eyes and throwing her arm around him.
Natasha followed suit on his other side and Thor grinned, raised his hammer, and shot through the hole in the ceiling as a second green hand appeared out of the pile of rubble below.
Tony and Steve were already sprinting around the corner when they landed.
“Where are you going?” Sif shouted, brushing the dirt from her armor.
“The lab,” Steve called over his shoulder as he disappeared.
Thor glanced back at the smoking hole from his vantage point in what appeared to be an office.
“I am sorry, friend,” he said and hurried after the others.
It took the entire sprint to the lab to realize that they were missing two more of their party.

Chapter Text

Clint listened to the roar of his handiwork through the walls of the Test Lab, his bow and quiver strapped across his back. The voice was quiet now, waiting. He wished it would speak again, but that would only happen if he brought results.
It had told him to shoot on sight. Carefully, he loaded a fresh magazine into his gun. There was a brief blur of motion in the corner of his right eye. He raised his arm, turned, pointed, and—
'Wait.'
The archer froze, just as instructed, staring at the two figures standing in the doorway. At the same time the sprinklers switched on and water poured over them. Clint blinked. Something told him that he didn’t like the dark-haired man with the smile, and neither did the voice. The blonde woman was, momentarily, intriguing, but she was one of them and he dismissed her quickly enough.
“Come to give up?” Clint said through gritted teeth, weapon held high.
The dark-haired man smiled and his green eyes glittered. “I’ve come to have a little chat.”
'Ah, how the Trickster does like to talk,' the voice said impatiently.
Clint shifted uncertainly to his left foot. “I’m not the guy you want for conversation.”
“Who exactly are we speaking to right now?” the dark-haired man—the Trickster—said sharply, stepping closer. “From what I remember, you loved the sound of your own voice, old friend. There must be too much of the mortal left, eh? Rather bothersome, aren’t they? But I suppose you aren’t used to doing the dirty work.”
The blonde followed the Trickster apprehensively, but her eyes seemed to bore into his own in a way that…bothered him. He looked away.
“What do you want?” Clint snapped, pointing at the Trickster with his gun.
He smirked. “We don’t have much time before my brother and his friends show up, so let’s make this quick.”
The Trickster glanced at the woman. “Could you grant us a few more minutes?”
Her eyes narrowed. “I’d like to hear what the man has to say, Loki.”
He waved his hand impatiently. “Now’s not exactly the time to have our first argument in decades.”
“No. I’m not going anywhere.”
“Gods, I’d forgotten how stubborn you were.”
The Trickster turned back to face Clint, but as the woman stepped forward he caught her face in his hands and whispered something under his breath. Her eyelids fluttered for half a second and she crumpled into the dark-haired man’s arms. Delicately, he laid her out on the ground, straightened himself, and stepped over her still form.
“I’ve made a deal with Thor and these Avengers,” the Trickster said, but now the smile was gone and his eyes had gone dark. “But unlike Sigyn here, I’m a little more open to…other options.”
He tugged at a loose thread on his sleeve and glanced up at him. “So…care to haggle?”
'Interesting,' the voice mused and Clint slowly lowered his gun.
“Alright then. Let’s talk.”
The Trickster smiled. “You always were quite the reasonable person.”
He waved his hand and the door slammed shut behind them.

* * *
In her dream Sigyn was running, running beside a man with a square jaw and misted eyes. He was looking for something. A part of her pitied the running man, and a part of her despised him, but that didn’t make sense, even in her dream-hazed head.
All of the sudden the man lurched forward as the ground fell out from beneath their feet. She stuck out her hands and managed to catch herself on a cloud of purple sparks, but the man was less fortunate. He groaned and she hurried to his side, turning him over and wiping the dirt from his face. There was an angry gash across his cheek. The man whimpered slightly.
“Shh,” Sigyn whispered and raised her palm to his face. “I can help you.”
But no sooner had the first sparks appeared had he caught her wrist in an iron grip, staring at her with those wide, glazed eyes.
She had been wrong, she realized. He hadn’t been looking for something.
He was looking for someone.

Sigyn woke up to lights too bright and something scratchy pressed up against her cheek. Blearily, she lifted her head an inch, but the shapes before her only blurred together. There was a scrape of wood and someone was beside her, lifting her head up slightly. Then there were two, then six all gathered around her. She recognized Thor and Sif first of all, and then the others came into focus.
“The…the archer,” she mumbled, rubbing at her head. “Is he…?”
“Clinton managed to escape,” Thor said softly, and she realized he was the one supporting her head.
Sigyn nodded. She had expected as much. But he was not the only one absent.
“Where’s Loki?”
“Sulking,” Thor said, the corner of his mouth curling up. “He said Clint surprised him and a little bit of magic, er, ‘backfired’, I believe is the word he used.”
“In other words, this is all his fault,” Sif said with a small smile, seeming genuinely happy at the turn of events.
“Gods, what did he hit me with, a Sleep spell?” She rubbed her eyes with her fist and sat up carefully.
Sigyn tried to replay the events in her head once more, but they were still too hazy, distanced. They went to the lab…the archer, he was there…something Loki said to her…
She frowned. “I guess he’s more powerful than we thought if he can already block spells through a mortal body.”
The anxious faces around her suddenly grew serious and she quickly looked away, a tinge of guilt tingling in her stomach.
“Bruce, how’s…how’s Bruce?” Sigyn asked softly.
“He will be alright,” Thor said, smiling once more.
“Yeah, I’m missing three levels of my house, but otherwise he’s alright,” Tony said, scratching at his facial hair.
“There you are.”
Sigyn sat up—faster than was probably wise—and eyed Loki wearily as he slunk into the room.
“Of all places for a spell to rebound,” she said quietly, “It hit me. Funny, don’t you think?”
Loki slumped against the couch she was sitting on, his expression strangely tense.
“I—I’m sorry. About that.”
Sigyn stared. Thor’s mouth fell open slightly before he could catch it.
“Well…that’s…that’s good,” she managed shortly, closing her eyes and slumping back into the pillows.
She wanted to believe him and the anxious sincerity in his voice. But as much as she wanted to trust, Sigyn was not stupid. She had to admit to herself that Loki was playing his own game and that parts of it may or may not include her. And she knew how despite everything—love, hate, good, evil—Loki lied.
“What’s our next move?” Steve asked in a low voice.
“I think,” Thor said, “Perhaps we rest for a day.”
Slowly the Avengers dispersed, leaving Sigyn with her eyes closed and hands folded over her chest. There was a soft rustle of fabric that told her Loki had sat on the floor beside her. She let her head roll to the side so that her chin rested against his back.
Sigyn didn’t care if he was sorry. She just hoped that, this time, he knew what he was doing—and what consequences that would entail.

* * *
Loki waited until Sigyn’s breaths became even before rising from his place on the floor and slipping through the door. He knew the others would be watching him through both the Stark man’s cameras and the red-haired woman (whom he doubted would ever stop looking at him like something on the bottom of her shoe). But he didn’t need to run, not yet at least. Now, Loki needed to clear out the clutter in his mind and think before he entangled himself in his own plans.
His deal with Thor and the Avengers had been the biggest front, of course; that was essential. The surface lies were the most bendable—and often breakable—by necessity. Matters became much more complicated when the lies began to overlap.
Thor had promised him a loophole. Imprisonment was unavoidable, he argued, but father was reasonable, father would listen, and he could at least give him decent accommodations—which Loki supposed meant no poisonous snakes and damp caves. He had agreed on immunity for Sigyn more importantly; in that matter Loki was, for once, counting on Thor to deliver. Loki was a realist; he didn’t doubt the possibility that he wouldn’t be around, or in the same galaxy at least, when it came time for Sigyn to return from saving the world. Her safety was the only essential part of the deal, and Thor had sworn on Asgard and the Nine Realms—which must have meant something to him by the intense gleam in the thunder god’s eyes.
That left, of course, his share of promises. Elementary, really. “Aid us in our quest,” “Do not cause harm to any and all of the team,” “Please do not attempt to subjugate our race again” and the like. And Loki was more than willing to share information. Just on his own time.
The only problem he had to worry about was Sigyn piecing things together first.
But he’d deal with that when the time came.
That left Thanos.
It repulsed him, bargaining not even face-to-face but through yet another mouthpiece. And the Outerworlder had been stingy, far pickier than Loki suspected his hand could allow. That was all ego, true, but it made his work all the harder.
This deal was much more…circumstantial. Loki knew for a fact that Thanos would more than happily throw him off the Bifrost once he had fulfilled his purpose, but he couldn’t hide the fact that now he needed Loki and his…talents. Granted, Thanos was an impressive opponent, which was why the logical side of him hoped to avoid any form of physical confrontation. Even Sigyn, he doubted, understood the importance of this. Later, Loki would have to deal with the scepter, or, more accurately, the power that it had once contained, but that was a game for another day and a much darker time. For now, Thanos had power, but no outlet, no foothold. He didn’t know entirely what the Outerworlder wanted, and he didn’t care, didn’t need to.
For Loki’s game to work, he needed both sides to despise him…which wouldn’t take much of a stretch.

* * *
Thanos frowned from his new, somehow more uncomfortable seat overlooking the swirling skies. He ran his thumb and forefinger across his chin and let his eyes roll back into his head.
The mortal he’d set aside for now. It was the Trickster’s turn.
But Loki’s promise was not what concerned him. He didn’t doubt that he would turn his back on them—if not his golden brother, then the mortals that called themselves the Avengers— and then Thanos himself, of course. In that, the Asgardian was predictable to a fault. It was the sorcerer’s little ally that made him…curious. Very curious.
What intrigued him the most was that her face was entirely unfamiliar. He racked his extensive memory, but came up empty-handed. It was not Asgardian, not completely, but certainly not of Midgard either. That much was clear in the way she carried herself: the precision, the grace, the strength, the way she looked at him through the mortal’s eyes.
She kept close company with the Trickster, which didn’t seem to fit. Loki was an outcast, a loner, with no real ties to anyone outside his family. Thanos had torn open his mind and spilled out almost all its secrets. The fallen prince had been a very different person then, but there had been no faces like this woman. He would have remembered.
'Dear me, little prince,' Thanos thought, his lips curling back over his teeth into a sneer, 'What have you not told me?'
The mortal was trying to hail him. Thanos snarled and tugged on their mental line, sending a shock of pain to keep him occupied. He’d forgotten how…taxing the hands-on approach to magic was. If only Loki hadn’t been fool enough to lose his scepter…
It dawned on him.
Before the traitor broke his scepter, there had been a touch, a moment of connection, something so precise and delicate that he had scarcely felt it on his consciousness and dismissed it. He hadn’t been aware enough for his mind to construct an image, but there was an unmistakable voice. A presence. An aura. Two violet eyes.
Ah.
"No wonder you tried to hide her," he murmured, lowering his hand.
This was what he needed: the final piece, the final move to checkmate not only the Avengers and Asgard, but the Master of Lies himself.
'Pieces and players. Moves and countermoves,' Thanos mused and settled back against the dark rock.

Chapter Text

Thor had finally managed to doze off when a hand shook him roughly. His eyes shot open and Mjolnir was clenched in his fist before he had time to register the face of Sif leaning over him, dark hair brushing the corners of her mouth. Steve was there, too, with his shield on his back and an intense look in his eyes.
“They’ve found him,” Sif said shortly as Thor pushed himself to his feet with one hand and combed his tangled hair with the other. “The mortal. Clint.”
The two hurried out the door and Thor stumbled after them. Steve nodded at the stairwell and they began to climb, taking steps two, three at a time.
“He’s holed up in some warehouse down by the harbor,” Steve explained over his shoulder. “Some of Stark’s cameras caught him.”
They burst through a metal door and were spit out into the glaring sunlight of the tower’s roof. Thor spotted Natasha in the cockpit of one of the Midgardians' copters and no sooner had the three of them leaped aboard did the machine leave concrete.
He glanced around the plane’s cabin. Tony sat with his arms crossed, feet tapping. Across from him was Loki, smirking at the floor as if there were a joke etched into the metal that only he could see. Thor wasn’t sure how he felt about this inclusion.
“Where’s Sigyn?” Sif asked, raising her voice to be heard over the machine’s roar.
“And Bruce,” Steve added.
The question hadn’t been directed at Loki, but he answered nonetheless.
“She thought it wise that only those of us who are familiar with our archer friend be at the scene. Anything unfamiliar will only confuse him more. Even being in contact with someone like myself responsible for many…unfavorable memories could help break down the magic.”
“And we thought it best not to leave Bruce all alone again,” Tony said, grinning. “Things keep disappearing when he’s by himself. In fact, just last week I noticed my favorite torch—”
“It’s strange to see you looking out for someone other than yourself for a change,” Sif said dryly, staring at Loki.
The dark-haired man eyed her with one eyebrow raised. “Lady Sif, I sincerely doubt that you are the right person to give me advice on my present relationships. Thor, on the other hand, seems to have no troubles in this arena.”
The rest of the ride was filled with a heavy tension as Tony and Natasha took bets on who would throw who out of the plane first.

They parked the copter on the roof of one of the tall, glossy Midgardian towers and snuck through the back stairs so as not to disturb its inhabitants. Natasha had snatched a mechanical, chattering device from Tony’s hands and led the way. She raised her hand to halt them and peered around the corner of a rundown brick structure. They were on the outskirts now, near the docks.
“There,” she murmured, pointing, “The warehouse.”
“Seems a bit cliché,” Tony said, looking strangely normal compared to his and the other’s battle gear and weapons. “Like a spy movie.”
Natasha ignored him. “He’ll be on the look-out, somewhere high up, knowing Clint. Steve.”
The captain stepped forward, tugging his mask over his face. “The goal is to capture him. And…possibly hit him very hard on the head while we’re at it.”
“Cognitive recalibration,” Natasha said, the corners of her mouth twitching. Despite this, Thor couldn’t help but notice she was tenser than normal.
Steve nodded. “Right. And we’re still assuming that this Thanos is unable to fully, uh…”
“Blast us off the face of the planet,” Loki offered.
“That. Through Clint. Yet. Anyway, here’s the plan. Tony’s going to fly overhead, see if he can get some sort of visual on Clint. Then he and Thor are going to punch a hole in the wall and maybe we’ll be finished there.”
Loki laughed. “That should be easy.”
“But seeing as things generally go to hell when we’re involved, Sif and I will try and engage him, test his abilities,” Steve went on. “Meanwhile, Nat and Loki are going to try and sneak up behind and—”
“Cognitively recalibrate him,” Tony finished.
“Exactly.”
Thor glanced at Loki. “And you’re sure Thanos isn’t strong enough to attack through him yet?”
“Well, I honestly don’t know,” Loki said, grinning, “Which is why we’re doing this in clever little stages. 'Testing the waters', as the expression goes.”
“Alright, let’s do this,” Steve said and Thor turned away, thrust Mjolnir upward, and soared into the air.
He hovered a moment until Tony joined him, now concealed by his iron suit. Thor tapped at the uncomfortable device they had stuck in his ear.
“Tony? Tony?”
“I’m right here, no need to shout, old man,” Stark said and Thor smiled.
“I’ll fly high,” Thor said loudly. “Look for Clinton.”
“Got it,” Tony shouted into his ear.
Thor frowned, feigning confusion. “No need to be so loud, my friend.”
“You know, sometimes I have trouble telling when you’re joking or not.”
They streaked through the dull blue sky until they were immediately above the warehouse, a massive rectangular structure that stretched along the pier. Tony pointed his fist towards the ground.
“I’m getting closer,” he said and shot down.
Thor hovered above him, waiting, as tendrils of cloud coiled around his ankles.
Steve’s voice spoke into his ear now. “Any sign of him?”
“There are two major heat concentrations in the building,” Tony said, “One in the eastern corner and the other south side.”
“Okay, change of plans. Thor, Tony, you two take east and Sif and I will check south. Nat, hang back.”
“On your mark,” Tony said. “Fly fast. Hit hard. Easy, eh?”
Thor smiled and shot down past the metal man. He thrust Mjolnir in front of him, pushing his body faster until he was racing alongside Tony. The warehouse roof sped up to meet them, growing closer, closer. Thor forced his eyes open wide.
They burst through the roof like it was made of silk, slamming into a pile of large boxes. Thor landed hard, but was on his feet in an instant, squinting to see through the dust.
“Tony, what do you see?”
“Are you kidding me? Are you kidding me?”
“What, what is it?”
Before he could answer, a creature with rust-colored skin leaped past him, tail sweeping behind him. Thor stared.
“Tony, what’s going on over there?” Natasha said tensely.
The dust finally settled. Standing in the remains of the crate was Tony, the front of his mask pulled back to reveal his wide eyes.
“Fricken’ kangaroos,” he sputtered. “It was a kangaroo, why was there a kangaroo, I’m pretty sure they’ve got a law about that—”
There was a muffled boom towards the south side of the building and Thor sprang into action, Tony only seconds behind him.

* * *
Sigyn sat hunched over on the couch, plotting the most destructive act she could do before Loki got back. Unfortunately, they had been forced to travel light—and by light, they had brought nothing at all. Perhaps she could turn his tongue to ice or give him three tails when he returned. Assuming they came back and she hadn’t been kicked out of the game for good.
She managed to have, at the very least, a pleasant conversation with Bruce (she had firmly decided him to be a good, if somewhat...sensitive, man), but he had crashed as Steve’s note had warned, and she’d had to drag him, snoring and muttering under his breath, to his room.
And now it was quiet. There was a strangely thin quality to the air. Something strangely empty and void.
Or perhaps it was her own imagination. This latest vision had…unsettled her. Aside from herself, they had never included someone she knew—not even Loki. They were between her and Thanos: an observation, not an interaction. There had been no proof of their existence save for Sigyn’s word. But now someone else seemed to know and that concerned her.
Sigyn let her head fall back against the leather cushion, curling her legs beneath her. She glanced at the square light on the far side of the room and twirled her finger. It went out with a quiet sigh.
She was more tired than she had cared to admit around the others: from the scepter, from the fight, the running, the spell, the visions. A part of her warned her not to—not to slip away between worlds so quickly. But her eyes seemed to wander into dark spaces…
And another part of her wanted to know.

* * *
Clint stood with feet planted firmly apart atop a stack of massive crates, an arrow notched and pointed down at the four of them. Steve had raised his shield protectively over himself and Sif, and Tony had made the wise decision of keeping his helmet on.
“Put it down, Clint,” Steve called up at him. “We don’t need to do this. We’re on the same side.”
The archer cocked his head at him. “I could say the same thing.”
“The big guy in the sky is using you,” Tony said, his voice metallic and disjointed sounding from behind his mask.
“Four to one, Clint,” Steve went on. “You’re a tough guy, but I like our odds.”
“Four to millions,” Clint countered. “I like mine.”
He tilted his chin up slightly, staring down the shaft of his arrow. “The Chitauri were nothing—and we barely survived. Surely you know that by now?”
“Clint,” Steve said, his voice tightening, “You’ve got ten seconds to—”
A flash of red and green. All five of them seemed to have seen it (or at least sensed it) because Steve and Tony dove left, Sif and Thor right, as Clint shot down an arrow, dodging Loki’s knife only for his temple to collide with Natasha’s fist. He dropped with a heavy thud that shook the stack of crates.
Steve stumbled back to his feet, pushing his helmet off and rubbing his forehead. “That…actually worked.”
Tony cupped his hands unnecessarily around his mouth and called up to the top of the stack. “Can our winners come down and collect their prize?”
They didn’t move, Natasha's posture noticeably rigid, Loki's eyes bright. Instead, they simply stared at each other, with narrowed eyes and an unnerving quiet. Slowly, Thor bent over to retrieve his hammer from the concrete floor.
Loki bent over to take Clint’s pulse, nodding with satisfaction. “That was an impressive hit.”
Natasha was staring at him with a strange intensity. “He missed,” she said finally, quietly. “Clint never misses, never.”
“Oh, but he didn’t miss,” Loki said, the beginnings of a smile playing on his lips.
Thor stared at the arrow pointing out of the stone ground and opened his mouth to call a warning when it exploded.

It was a strange heat he felt. Raw and red and enveloping and…separate. A green tide had washed over him, mixing and tangling with red until he didn’t feel anything. His thoughts were numb, his fingers frozen, and he floated.

* * *
Clint studied the inferno from the adjacent warehouse’s rooftop. So the Trickster, as the Voice called him, hadn’t lied. Strange. He felt almost…disappointed. He had been half-hoping the Voice would ask him to skewer him with an arrow through the skull and finish the job himself. The Trickster was hardly worthy of the honor.
He didn’t wish for any thanks—Clint knew he wouldn’t get any. That simply wasn’t the Voice’s way. But there was a note of satisfaction in its tone that rubbed off on to him, made him straighten where he stood, rigid, alert.
But he had to keep moving. There was always more to be done. And he was willing to do it.

Chapter Text

Loki still had his limits, and transporting himself plus an assortment of unconscious gods and superhumans with goggling mortal eyes at every corner was one of them.
He had done what he could for the time at least, including the generous gesture of dragging them one-by-one from the smoldering ruins of the warehouse to a quiet dock a few miles down, away from the mess of mortal authorities and sirens. They lay in a careful row along the damp wooden pier, shoulder-to-shoulder, eyes closed and expressions oddly peaceful. It was the same Sleep spell he had used on Sigyn, if somewhat diluted.
Speaking of Sigyn.
Loki leaned back against the warped metal railing hammered along the pier’s edge, letting his eyes wander out over the dull waters. He had tried to contact her with no success. Of course, his magic was unusually effective, but so was Sigyn’s. He doubted a simple Sleep spell could keep her down for long.
There was a long groan from the end of the pier and Loki sighed heavily. Unfortunately, Thor appeared to have similar immunities.

* * *
In the dream world, Sigyn was alone. She stared down in awe at her feet as she swept through the stars, wading between galaxies. Constellations caught in her hair and danced in her eyes.
She wanted to follow them, chase their starry tails, but, of course, she couldn’t, she mustn’t. Squeezing her eyes shut, Sigyn tore herself away from the light to tread deeper into the darkness. It grew colder the more she traveled. Wicked things were lurking.
They watched her from the shadows. She felt their breath on her heels and shivered.

* * *
“What happened?”
Steve shook his head, rolling his shoulders as if to bring the feeling back into them. “He was…he was right there. And then…everything just kind of…exploded.”
Thor hefted Mjolnir experimentally and grimaced. His muscles felt sluggish and his thoughts dissolved one into the other like thick fog hanging over him.
“L-Loki?” he managed, pushing himself to his feet and ignoring the sudden spell of dizziness brought by the effort.
“After all that, and you still think of me. I’m touched, Thor, truly.”
Loki gasped and sputtered as he found Thor’s hand suddenly wrapped tightly around his throat.
“What did you do, you little snake?” Thor snarled, shaking him by the collar. “What did you do?”
The fear stretched across Loki’s face melted into a wide grin as he vanished from Thor’s grasp, and he turned around, eyes blazing, clouds boiling above him, to glare at the real Loki as he strolled along the pier.
“Saved your life, for one,” Loki said, casually ticking it off on his fingers. “You’re welcome for that, by the way. I’ve given you a much needed advantage—not to mention chosen the path of the righteous for once, although I wouldn’t bet on that becoming a habit. Did you like the kangaroos? Sigyn introduced them to me; she found them rather humorous.”
The other Avengers had managed to rouse themselves—or perhaps Loki had simply grown bored and lifted the spell—and they stood now, with harsh eyes and slightly dazed expressions.
Thor knew Natasha was seething by the icy cool to her voice as she spoke and the fact sent shivers down his spine before he was able to reassure himself that she was, in fact, on his side.
“And what is Clint’s place in this devious little plot of yours?”
Loki smiled—he seemed hardly able to control it anymore—and shrugged. “I’m afraid I haven’t been very honest with you.”
Steve coughed loudly and Sif folded her arms over her chest. “Oh, really?”
“You see, at the Tower, I had a conversation with our archer friend and the man upstairs,” Loki said. “A deal, actually. I wipe your lot from the playing field and Mr. Barton continues his good work as Thanos’s errand boy.”
Loki paused and grinned. “That was also a lie.”
Thor tightened his grip on Mjolnir. “Your point?”
“Well, that’s all there really is to it,” Loki said casually. “Thanos thinks you’re dead. The warehouse? I torched it. I even added some colorful touches and grisly remains.”
“And Clint?” Steve asked anxiously. “Was he an illusion to?”
Loki waved a hand dismissively. “Of course, though Thanos did have the intelligence to send him to watch the show. I had to wait for him to wander off before I could lift the Veil enough to move you this far. And that took nearly half an hour. One at a time. Fire and smoke everywhere. So exhausting, you know—”
Thor cut him with an expert glare and a grunting noise in the back of his throat. He ran a hand over his eyes, brushing a smear of ashes from his cheek. He was tired suddenly, and he couldn’t decide if his recent “death” or a certain brother were the cause.
No—rather, this was the feeling that had been hanging over him since before the Battle of Manhattan. Since Loki fell. He doubted it would go away for many lifetimes.
“So that’s it then?” Natasha was saying, though Thor suspected it was more for the group’s benefit than Loki’s. “Your play. Clearing the field so Thanos relaxes and can send Clint to do…what?”
The smile slipped for a moment. “I’m…not entirely sure. I tried to contact Sigyn, but she must still be under the weather, otherwise…”
A slightly darker expression filled Loki’s eyes and Thor reached a hand out instinctively. “Loki, you do not look well—”
He swatted the hand away instantly. “I am fine. Worry about yourself.”
Thor frowned. “Why?”
“Since it means so much to you,” Loki said with a long sigh, drumming his fingers on the railing, “And since trying to keep you all dead has been very taxing over the past few hours, I’ll do my best to hunt down our Mr. Barton. The rest is up to you.”
They had drawn close around him; Loki’s voice had always had that pull to it.
“Well, that’s it then,” he said, turning his head to stare at Thor and blinking slowly. “I track down Barton. Find out where Thanos is holing up. Then you’re on your own against him. Sigyn and I are leaving.”
Loki’s mouth stretched into a smile as Thor felt his throat constrict. “We had a deal, didn’t we?”

* * *
Sigyn opened her eyes and caught the scream before it could leave her lips. Of course, she should have known. Magic was a delicate art and magic always left traces.
She wasn’t sure when the dream had ended or begun as her feet moved unconsciously across dark rock instead of the mortals’ carpets and tiles. Perhaps her body remained, but her mind had failed to wake on the right side of the looking glass. It would have made her desperately curious—had it happened to someone else and she were the one looking in. But Sigyn knew what she had been following, and even now she recognized the jagged peaks set against red skies it had led her to.
He was waiting for her, she knew, but still her feet propelled her forward. She should go back.
There was a crunch of feet scraping against rock behind her and she heard the sharp intake of breath. Sigyn closed her eyes (like it made a difference) and sighed.
Of course, she could not go back.

* * *
Thanos sat amongst the rock, staring out at the red skies. They hid the view of the Beyond, the Deep Space, the Outerworld.
Home.
His fingers crushed rock, his lips curled back and a black rage filled him until—
—He smiled.
“Welcome. I’m sure we have plenty to discuss.”

* * *
Something cold filled Loki’s chest.
Stark had sent for one of his machines to pick them up this time, but even as Loki sat back in the stiff chair, surveying the dulling sun and gray skyline, he felt his mouth run dry and for once knew not what to say.
Wicked things were waiting.

Chapter Text

“Do you want to see the tapes?”
Loki shook his head absentmindedly, pacing back and forth across the dim room that had last contained Sigyn. The lights had been off. Bruce had been sleeping on another level. There had been no one else to see.
It should have been funny, this situation: how Thor and Sif and the others dropped everything—in particular a burning desire to shove him off the roof—to tear the Tower apart searching for a half-elf they had met days before. Then again, if anyone was worth the effort it was Sigyn.
Perhaps that was why every smile he tried to summon felt so…tight.
“Clint was here,” Romanoff confirmed, glancing up from a flat device, her fingers hovering over the screen. “JARVIS caught him slipping in the roof hatch.”
Stark shook his head. “How did he get on my—you know, never mind. I don’t want to know.”
“There’s no sign of a fight,” Sif was saying to Thor. “That doesn’t make sense. She’s one of us.”
“Loki,” Thor began.
He snapped. “No, she was not part of the deal, and I’ve spent a good portion of my recent days pretending she doesn’t exist so certain interested parties like Thanos don’t get any ideas!”
Thor stared. “You think Thanos took her?”
Loki blinked. “Yes. And no. I think Sigyn was already on her way when Mr. Barton stumbled in in time to bring the rest of her. Her physical being, that is.”
He looked up at the eyes around him. “Sigyn had visions—glimpses more like it—of a red man. Dark things.”
He stared down at the floor and ran a hand over his chin. “She followed them.”
Loki let his voice trail off as his gaze shifted across the floor, over the scattered couch cushions, and to the rug that fell ever so slightly off center from the rest of the room’s décor. He pushed past Thor to crouch beside it, peeling it back to reveal the dark tile. It reflected his tired face across the hastily carved letters and at the sight of the flickering purple sparks green lights appeared in the palms of his own hands, hissing and snapping like hot coals.
“‘Nidavellir’,” Thor read aloud.
“Brave, bold Sigyn,” Loki murmured, tracing a finger over each letter as the Avengers crowded around him, “I hope it was worth it.”

* * *
“A curious choice,” Sigyn mused, letting her gaze drift out across the dark fields of Nidavellir, “The Dwarven homeland.”
Thanos stood somewhere behind her, more a presence than a living, breathing being.
“The Dwarves leave the dark undergrounds once every hundred years,” he said. She could feel the curl of his smile. “What they don’t know won’t hurt them.”
“Why the mortal?”
She glanced at the archer—Clint, she reminded herself. He stood unusually straight-backed a few feet from them. She frowned. Imitation or even possession wasn’t simply a matter of shoving one’s subconscious into the head of another’s. Sorcery was as much subtlety as it was strength. Such a blatant disregard for the details—the way he carried himself, the light in his eyes—showed sloppiness. A lack of feeling. Her hand twitched. A weakness.
“Convenience?” Thanos suggested, pacing, his feet dusting over the blackened dust and nonexistent vegetation. “Irony, perhaps?”
His lips seem to peel back from his teeth each time he spoke. “Come, come, now. You’ve walked among them. You’ve seen their strength. Their weakness.”
“Unnecessary,” Sigyn threw back, walking towards Clint’s still form.
“Oh? And why is that?”
“The mortals don’t care about the Realms,” Sigyn said, pausing to study the lines of his face, as if chiseled there. “And they aren’t near advanced enough to do anything if they did. These were enemies that didn’t need to be made. Not now, at least.”
His voice seemed to move through her, resonating through her and shaking the very ground she stood upon. “You think I made a mistake.”
“Yes,” she agreed, “Or, at the very least, you miscalculated. Even the best are prone to that.”
“Ah yes, our mutual friend,” Thanos said, and the smile stretched across his face. “Yes, he could make words an art form. Imagine what those pretty little words sounded like when I made him sing?”
He was inches from her suddenly, and she felt his presence hovering beside her, enormous, leering.
“I’ve always found it curious,” Sigyn said, staring out into the glittering blackness that had filled her dreams for the past year. “People have always found the need to assume that, as the goddess of fidelity, I am incapable of lying. But that shows a clear misunderstanding of the meaning of fidelity.”
She let her gaze wander to the still face of the archer, still and yet somehow clenched, like a fist someone might raise to strike with at any moment.
“Enlighten me, then,” Thanos said.
“It’s quite simple, really,” Sigyn went on. “Fidelity is devotion. It’s loyalty. It’s faithfulness to a truth, not all truths. Fidelity is a promise.”
Sigyn breathed in the empty air, felt her chest swell with it. “Would like to know what happens when something comes between me and that promise?”

* * *
Loki had retreated to the shadows of the room while the others shot nervous glances in his direction between sentences. But he had long since mastered maintaining multiple personas at once and it was a simple matter for him to find himself clambering up the metal steps—with an unnerving rattle he hadn’t noticed before—and blasting the door to the roof open with a flick of his finger. The air had run cold and pelted against his cheek, but, of course, he had also long since accepted the fact that he would never feel cold like others did.
It was taxing—leaping between worlds. Things were much simpler outside of Midgard. Far away there were caves and cracks and crevices all waiting to be explored. Here there were cramped cities and streets and smells. Here there was no hum of magic—of the raw, untapped force his mother had once taught him to carry between his hands like hot coals—when he pressed his palm to its surface. Yet it was very much alive, pulsating, as if breathing, a desperate sucking in and out.
He straightened himself and shook the feeling off, pulling his hands into fists at his sides. The familiar buzz filled them, wrapping up his arms, permeating through his skin. He tried to breathe it in and recoiled back at the sting. The warmth faded into something softer. Something yellow, shining like sunlight, shining like a promise.
He swallowed.
“Loki, what are you doing?”
And the feeling dissipated. His shoulders sagged, his throat tightened, and Loki refused to turn and admit that for the first time, no, Thor, he did not know what he was doing. He didn’t even know where to start.
“I didn’t think I needed to remind you that you would not be going alone,” Thor said.
“Oh, trust me, I am more than familiar with your dog-like habits.”
“Sif has also offered her services.”
“No doubt to kill me should Thanos fail miserably.”
“And the others. Stark. Rogers. Romanoff.”
“Have you ever seen two sorcerers at odds, brother?” Loki snapped suddenly, turning sharply to face him.
Thor was silent, the wind tugging a strand of long blond hair over his face.
Loki gritted his teeth and turned away. “Then trust me when I say they will only get in the way.”
“Clint is their friend,” Thor said softly and then, so strangely gentle for a man so large, “He is my friend. I would not wish such a fate upon him. And neither would Sigyn.”
He wanted to lash back at Thor for invoking her name—a name he certainly had no right to—but not even as skilled a liar as he could stifle that truth.
“Did you know we were going to run away together once?” Loki said, pulling an emotion he didn’t know he had from a place he didn’t know existed. It burned up his throat and on his tongue as he spit the words out, but once free they seemed to become light and…strangely gentle. “I was furious with father—or you, although that was nothing new. And we could have done it. But Sigyn saw a reason that I couldn’t understand and so we stayed.”
He paused, taking in the shadowed skyline. “Perhaps this is much the same.”
He felt a hand on his shoulder—large and heavy, calloused and strong. Loki looked away and pretended it wasn’t there: maybe because he didn’t have the strength for such revulsion and maybe because he didn’t have the strength to stand without it.

* * *
“That was an impressive speech.”
“Really?” Sigyn said. “I only just made it up.”
Thanos rested a hand on a twist of dark rock. “But I grow tired of such talk. There is work to be done.”
“I had hoped the prince would have proven much more…reliable,” he went on, his hand catching the point and jerking downwards, breaking off a chunk of black stone. “There is nothing more corruptible than royal blood. But unfortunately blood is not a measure of...other qualities.”
Sigyn felt something cold twist in her gut, like a whisper, or a warning. Thanos had resumed his steady pacing, but now he stopped beside Clint, placing a dark hand under his chin.
“Mortals have their uses, yes, but they are limited. They are limited and they are blind. They pull from around, not within. And that makes them weak.”
He raised his hand suddenly, pressing the thumb against Clint’s forehead, inhaling sharply just as Clint gasped out a breath before crumpling to the dark earth. Sigyn stood unflinchingly as the cold swelled within her, accompanied by the touch of something familiar, of something wicked.
“It’s such a narrow little world we walk upon without magic, isn’t it?” Thanos mused, stepping away from Clint’s prone form. Sigyn twisted her hand and reached out to him, sensing, to her surprise, a dull pulse still beating within him.
“And here we come to what I have been working at since the beginning,” he went on. “I have strength—strength that is greater than yours. I have will. I have power. I lack…reach. For how can I use all the tools at my disposal—my agents of chaos, I imagine them as—without hands to grip them with?”
“I will not aid you,” Sigyn said with the sharpness of sudden understanding.
“I am not asking for your help. I am taking it.”
Her eyes strayed to Clint, still as the stones at her feet. “I will fight back.”
“Yes,” Thanos agreed. “But you will also save him. Because you have devotion to a truth, and that truth, unfortunately for you, is goodness. You are strong and perhaps, by some stroke of divine justice, you may defeat me. But I imagine our battle to be a lengthy one—a length I fear he would not survive.”
Thanos stepped back, throwing his hands out at his sides in challenge. “So choose goddess: his life or your soul. And that is my truth.”
Sigyn crouched beside the archer, pressing a hand to his paling forehead, her heightened senses registering a slight heat. Thanos was telling the truth; the man was dying. She let her hand slip from his skin and her mouth twitched into a smile.
Because he hadn’t seen the whole truth.
She pushed a curl of yellow hair back behind her ear and her body shook with laughter—a rather demented sound rattling around in her skull and reminding her all too well of Loki. She imagined him now—how his green eyes would gleam in the dull light—and she could almost see him now, so far, yet so close to her, standing alongside the others and staring up at the sky.
“Your choice,” Thanos insisted, halting his pacing to eye her shaking form.
“Neither,” Sigyn said, clenching her hands into fists and inhaling deeply. “I choose a promise.”
And she thrust her fists up to meet him in a spray of purple light.

Chapter Text

“Heimdall! Open the Bifrost!”
Nothing.
“Heimdall!”
Nothing but cold breeze.
“Wonderful,” Loki said beside him.
Sif frowned up at the sky. “Heimdall! We must make haste! A life is at stake.”
“Two lives,” Natasha muttered, fingers already hovering above her pistols.
“Heimdall is very fond of Sigyn,” Thor thought aloud. “He must be watching her.”
“Unless, perhaps, something does not want her to be seen,” Loki said, green sparks dancing in his hands.
The others tensed at the sight.
Thor raised a hand. “Easy.”
“Heimdall!” he called again and Loki shot him an irritated glance.
“Quit your screaming. It’s clearly not working.”
Thor frowned. A moment ago his brother had appeared on the verge of tears. How quickly the tables seemed to turn when it came to Loki. The thought made him feel strangely heavy and he doubted even Heimdall’s summons could lift him from the Earth.
“Asgardian tech never ceases to dazzle me,” Tony said mildly, clapping his metal-clad hands together. A dull, metallic ring echoed over the rooftops.
Thor watched Loki carefully, watched the gears turn behind his eyes. He could rarely decipher the conclusions Loki came to, but he knew his brother enough to know that in the majority of situations he would not like them.
“Loki,” he said in a warning tone.
“Don’t get your cape all caught in a knot,” Loki snapped. “I’m trying to concentrate.”
Thor clenched the hand that didn’t clasp Mjolnir into a tight fist. “Loki, what are you doing?”
“I’m taking you,” Loki said in a tight voice, too soft, Thor realized, for the others to hear. “It will not be pleasant, but I can get you there. Well, some of you.”
Thor glanced over his shoulder at the others, each staring anxiously at the sky. “I would want them at my side against such a threat as the one you describe.”
“If they mean that much to you, then I can do my best,” Loki said, his face inches from his own. “They’d be in pieces for the most part, but since when has loss of limb stopped a great warrior?”
“Sif is one of us,” Thor insisted.
Loki closed his eyes. “Fine.”
Thor paused. “Natasha. She deserves—”
“We all deserve something,” Loki said. “Who’s to say we all get it?”
He grimaced. “Thor, I’m counting to ten.”
“Point Blank,” Tony called over to him. “How’s the forecast looking?”
“There’s, ah, there’s been a change of plans,” he replied carefully.
Natasha narrowed her eyes. “We need to hurry. Clint can’t have much time.”
Thor glanced at Loki. He mouthed the numbers, green crackling between his fingers. Nine. Eight. Seven.
Sif took a step closer. “Thor, I do not like this.”
Four. Three.
Thor looked at Natasha. Her dark eyes smoldered.
“We will find your friend,” he said. “Our friend.”
She opened her mouth to speak.
“Think of it as flying,” Loki said between a smirk.
One.
There was a rushing sensation and Thor found himself drowning in green as something jerked him upwards. Galaxies swam on the edge of his vision and his hair caught in his lips. Loki lied. The feeling was in no way similar to flying. Rather, it reminded Thor more of being tossed about in the jaws of some massive creature.
They slammed into dark stone, Mjolnir slipping from his hands as he dug his fingers into the black ground to stop his motion. He looked up, squinting, as Sif did the same, rubbing angrily at the back of her head.
She glared at him. “I don’t like this.”
“Loki,” Thor said, scrambling to his feet and searching the space around him.
There was a long groan over his shoulder and he turned in time to see Loki slump against the ground, clutching his chest as green sparks sizzled around him. He grabbed his arm and immediately released him. Loki’s body had become like fire.
“Loki—”
“Thor, here!”
He raised a hand and Mjolnir flew to it, pointing it toward Sif’s voice. He followed her outstretched hand with his eyes, blinking at the sight at the bottom of the black slope they found themselves on.
Loki was right. He had never seen two sorcerers collide—at the very least, he had never seen two at the level of Sigyn and Thanos.
Sigyn’s hair was a golden mess and her eyes shone like uncut jewels in candlelight: bright and raw and wild. There was a smear of red across her chin and her hands moved in an intricate dance, spitting purple sparks and swirls over the dark earth. For a moment Thor dared to hope that she was on the verge of victory—until his eyes settled on Thanos. The man—or whatever he was—seethed, shooting spells like Midgardian bullets and creating gaping chasms in the earth with each strike of his hand.
Sigyn fought well, but Thanos was winning.
He glanced one last time at Loki’s still form before tightening his grip around Mjolnir.
For now.

* * *

Loki was having trouble seeing straight. Half his mind lingered still on the Midgardian rooftop where the remainder of the Avengers was gesturing wildly at the sky and in the midst of heated conversation. Through the other eye he made out a dark world, all stones and shadows. He staggered to his feet, stumbling forward.
Purple sparks blazed at the base of the hill, clashing against blacks and reds and sprays of rock and rubble. Thanos, he realized. Sigyn.
A flash of red slammed into the dark body that must be Thanos. Thor. And there, right alongside him, was the flash of silver. Sif.
The sight enflamed within him a series of emotions that passed too quickly for him to separate them. Rage. Madness. Fear.
Love.
He raised his hands with the same success as he had had at lifting Mjolnir. A pulsing spread behind his temples. He watched as Sigyn fought for her life and he was reduced to nothing.
A groan.
He turned. The man was curled on his side in the dark earth, clutching at his stomach. His face was alarmingly pale and you could make out every vein in his body. His eyes were a weak, misty blue, as if the color in them had begun to dissolve.
Clint.
Loki staggered over to him, dropping to his knees and rolling the Midgardian man onto his back.
“How ironic,” he choked out, a grin spreading across his face. “Surely the fates are turning over in their graves.”
Clint’s eyes popped open and he snarled, his arms thrashing. Loki froze them at his sides with a flick of his finger. Well, at least he could do that much.
He frowned down at the man’s cold body. It was as if all the energy had been sucked from him and he would, at any moment, crumble into nothing. Loki understood it all at once. Thanos has ceased to inhabit him without fully relinquishing control. He had robbed the man of his purpose, casting him aside like one does a glove that had worn through in the palm.
The thought was a familiar one, only before he had applied it to himself.
It made his stomach turn.
Loki regarded the dying man, gripping him by his shirt collar. He didn’t have the strength to aid Sigyn in the way he had hoped. But he could do this. He could save him.
And he could prove to her that she had saved him.

* * *

Sigyn narrowly avoided a spray of black rock. Sweat trickled into her eyes and her hands burned—not with exertion but with heat. She flexed her right thumb and crystal daggers appeared in the air, zipping forward. They shattered against a sheet of steel that sprang from the ground. Thor flew past her, causing her skirts to flap around her ankles. He swung at Thanos, but the red man dodged. Sif darted forward, swiping with her spear, but he already seemed to sense that, too, springing forward and blasting her backward with a wind that tore at the landscape around her. Loki was here somewhere; she sensed him. Perhaps he was invisible, dancing around them, cackling wildly as he prepared to deal the final blow. It was a hopeless fantasy. The only magic crackling across the black earth was Thanos’s and her own.
For the first time she felt strangely alone.
She shook her head, dug her heels into the dirt, and summoned a great purple snake from the ground.
Mjolnir slammed into Thanos’s chest, knocking him backward. Her snake wrapped around his legs, binding him to the ground, as Sif lunged, the point of her spear slamming into the space between Thanos’s eyes. She stood over him, panting.
The body shook with laughter. It shimmered faintly and Sigyn turned too late. A wave of black energy slammed against her—what form it took, she scarcely noticed—throwing her into the ground and knocking the air from her lungs. She lay there, gasping, as Thor sped past her, only to fly backward as he was swatted out of the air. Sif crouched beside her, jerking her to her feet.
“We can still…” Sif panted. “We can…end this.”
Sigyn brushed a strand of yellow hair out of her eyes as the form of Thanos seemed to pulse.
Something dark.
Sigyn stepped back as Thor was thrown back once more.
Something wicked.
A black stream of energy lashed out like a whip. Sigyn barely spared them as the black crumbled against a purple shield.
Thor appeared beside her, wiping the mess of blood and sweat from his face with the back of his hand. “We can still win.”
Sigyn shook her head as a sudden understanding seemed to seep up through her shoes. “No. Not here. Not like this.”
Thanos stepped forward. “I asked for one and I received two more.” He laughed. “I had my doubts after the first one, but, then again, your brother never had the same purity of bloodline as you, God of Thunder.”
“Enough!” Thor spat, Mjolnir swinging at his side.
“Wait,” Sigyn said, her lips barely moving. A subtle shift in the air. “Wait.”
Thanos seemed to be sucking something in. The air swirled around him in dark clouds.
Something dark. Something wicked.
Thor sprang forward. The blackness grew. And the ground where the two met exploded.
Sigyn forced the dust and debris aside, filling the empty air with her purple haze. Sif coughed beside her, helping a winded Thor to his feet. The ground where Thanos stood had been obliterated, the space the Outerworlder had momentarily occupied replaced by a black gash torn into the planet’s surface.
“Excellent shot,” a familiar voice said from above and she looked up to see Loki perched on the hilltop, Clint beside him, bow raised, face warm, and eyes seething.
He turned his bow on Loki, firing shot after shot into Loki’s double. “Son of a bitch!”
“First impressions are rather damning, I’m afraid,” Loki drawled beside her.
Her shoulders sagged slightly as a smile crept across her face.
She froze. “Loki, wait—”
A red fist clung to the edge of the chasm, fingers shooting cracks through the ground. The planet seemed to heave underneath them as a funnel of black magic shot up from the chasm. Sigyn threw her hands up, her purple sparks encircling it, crushing it.
Green sparks intermingled with violet. Loki strained beside her. The black funnel tightened into a snake-like coil, hissing and spitting. Too late she realized that it was too strong to simply crush. It would have to be redirected.
Loki understood this, too. She could see it in his eyes. He gritted his teeth, frantically gesturing to her with his eyes. Sigyn ignored everything they said and instead focused on their vivid green, the curve of his jaw, the jet of his hair. She breathed in slowly, fixing his image in her mind, because there was a second truth he also understood. In this moment, of the two, Sigyn was the stronger.
“Sigyn—”
She felt a shudder run down her spine. Her teeth bit into her tongue. She tasted blood.
“You came,” she gasped. The wind tore at her clothes. “Thank you. Thank you.”
She closed her eyes. “Thank you.”
Sigyn slammed her hands together, purple and black crashing into the black earth. Below, something wicked began to fall. She let it drag her with it.

Chapter Text

Loki sat overlooking the chasm, fingers brushing the edges of its mouth. It reminded him of some great beast—the kind Thor had once imagined for them to slay as children. The jagged stone became teeth. The cold air became its breath.
Thor shot out of the monster’s jaws, golden hair a mess and face streaked with dirt and blood. “They’re gone.”
“Yes, I don’t need your god-like vision to see that,” Loki snapped. There was a throbbing in his chest.
Thor hovered over his shoulder. “How did she do it?”
Loki stared up at the twinkling sky. “The energy had to go somewhere. She opened a portal. Rather than us and this world, she drove it to another. And it dragged her in with it.”
“Or she followed.”
“Of course she followed!” Loki gripped a black stone in his hand and it shattered in a spray of green and gray. “Brave, bold Sigyn. Too good for this world, too great, so she found another one it would seem.”
He let his head roll back against his shoulders, laughing. Thank you, she had said. You came.
“We’re like east and west, my dear,” he mused, “One always watching the sun brush the other.”
He laughed, shoulders shaking. Thor watched him, his expression a mix of sorrow and alarm.
“Are you going to let the Midgardian arrest me?” Loki drawled, brushing a few stray black hairs from his face.
Somewhere off to the side Sif was somehow managing to keep him at bay. That wouldn’t last.
Thor frowned, familiar lines stretching across his forehead. “No.”
Loki stared. “And father? What of him?”
“I will return to him as soon as Clint is safely returned to Midgard,” Thor said finally. “There is much he needs to know.”
Now it was Loki’s turn to frown. “I—”
Thor set Mjolnir beside him.
“Bring her home,” he said softly. “We’ve had our differences. We’re brothers. But I trust you to bring her home. More than anyone.”
He laughed. “More than myself.”
Loki stood. “It’ll be dangerous. I need your word that you won’t come rushing to my side the moment evil rears its ugly head again.”
Thor smiled. “Now that is entirely dependent on the degree of your screaming. What if I mistake you for some poor maiden fair lost and alone?”
Loki laughed, but it lasted only for a moment. He quieted, staring down into the black hole. “She was right all along. About most everything, really. Sigyn was always remarkable like that.”
“When will you leave?” Thor asked quietly.
Loki swallowed, turned. “As soon as I’ve caught my breath.”
“How will you know where to start?”
“You have your ways. I have mine.”
“Loki—” Thor fumbled for words. “Be careful. I do not pretend to understand the evil we have unearthed.”
Loki smiled, a faint, fleeting thing, before he found himself walking. “Darkness has always existed, brother. I would rest for now. Something far more wicked is on its way.”

* * *

Everywhere there was darkness. It washed over her, cold and fluid. But she knew the feeling by now. She understood it.
Sigyn opened her eyes. Though she found herself in darkness, it was not so hard to see.