Thor Fic: "We Are Our Own Folklore" (R, Loki/Darcy, Thor/Jane), 6a/7
Yeah, it took me over a month to get back to this. November and December have had a lot less free time in them than I may have originally thought.
LINK TO PART FIVE
Title: We Are Our Own Folklore (Part 6: Seven In One Blow)
Characters: Loki, Thor, Darcy, Amora, Balder, Sif, Warriors Three, Heimdall, Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, Clint Barton, original characters; mention of others
Pairings: Loki/Darcy, Thor/Jane, Thor/Amora, Volstagg/OC, Amora/OCs
Rating: R for grimness, dark themes, gender weirdness, mild gore and semi-explicit sexuality
Length: 17,130 words
Summary: After what might seem to some like the world's longest courtship, Loki and Darcy are finally dating, and Thor and Jane are set to be married. But during the engagement party several intervening parties are out to throw a wrench into both relationships in a big way. Some of them are outsiders, but some come from much closer, and through uncomfortable ties to the past.
Notes: Part of my ongoing series. For further notes see part one.
Alternate link to story at AO3; please comment either here or there.
Part 6: Seven In One Blow
Tony tried not to feel like he had lost one of his major senses.
As he looked at the alien realm through his helmet’s sensors the HUD lit up, in alternating waves, like a Christmas tree; pinpointing and analyzing everything before him. The smaller displays tracking the suit’s functions ticked off in their respective corners. Far as he could tell - and he was very, very good at this sort of thing - even after two tries being slingshotted through a wormhole the armor was performing smoothly. It was all systems go.
But nothing felt quite the same without JARVIS’ voice offering dry commentary at his ears.
It nagged at him, like the suit’s timing was somehow off, like being dragged down by the weight of a phantom limb.
As spectacular an AI he had built, though, even a product of Tony’s genius at the caliber that was JARVIS couldn’t be on two opposite ends of the universe at the same time. Too much of the hardware was housed in physical locations on Earth anyway.
So for this mission Tony was - well, not exactly flying solo. He had an entire backup system of programming in the suit already in place just for this kind of eventuality. Being that it was his programming, it appeared to be functioning flawlessly.
It didn’t think for itself, though. It was designed to go through certain processes automatically. And it didn’t talk back to him. Tony found that he missed that.
Nothing to be done about it, though. So he stuck to doing what he was doing.
And trying not to feel like he was flying blind.
“You’re being awfully quiet, Lord Stark,” Fandral commented from beside him. Spread in an arrow formation the group was trekking their way across a plain full of oily, waist-high grass. Well, the rest of the group was trekking; Tony had his thrusters engaged so he hovered a few feet up, boots just skimming the roughage. “Something on your mind?”
“No. Not really,” Tony responded, easy. “Just thinking about how I miss the voices in my head.”
That earned him a wordless side-eye from most of the Asgardians.
Barton and Thor ignored him. Underneath his cowl however Cap’s face actually looked slightly pitying, because goddammit, Steve.
“You can run the suit okay without JARVIS, can’t you?” he asked, trying to disguise his concern at being solely practical and mission-based and not fooling Tony one iota.
“Yeah, sure. Just the first time I’ve ever had to do it for an extended period, is all. It’s a little disorienting.” Emphatically he made a point to add, “I’m fine.”
Steve gazed at him unblinkingly. “I never said that you weren’t.”
The pause that came next lingered on about three seconds too long to not be considered awkward.
“Maybe I should fly ahead,” Tony suggested, “scout the terrain a bit.”
“Nay.” Thor looked back over his shoulder. “This realm could be a hostile one. Until we have a better idea where we are, we should stay together.”
“Thor’s right,” Steve agreed. Not like he was really in charge, at the moment - the alien prince was running the show, this being his area of expertise. “We could have enough problems. The last thing we need is someone getting lost or separated. So stick close.”
“Fine.”
Begrudgingly Tony disengaged his thrusters and dropped down to ground level. If he was going to have to stay at the group’s pace anyway, he might as well walk.
The gray weeds scraped against the armor on his legs and he raised his faceplate to shoot a grimace. Ugh, he was going to get burrs in his knee joints, wasn’t he?
“You know I don’t get why we even ended up out here, anyway,” he remarked suspiciously. “What, Heimdall can see everything and knows exactly where we need to go, so would it have killed him to actually put us there?”
“I’m assuming we’re close as he could make it,” Barton said, looking steadily forward as he weaved his way through. “Probably shouldn’t fault the guy for not being able to pin the wings off a fly with a bazooka.”
“The archer is stoically accepting of someone else’s bad aim. Seriously? Am I hearing this right?”
He gave Tony a withering look. “Far as I understand it, with every sight and sound in the universe screaming in his ear as background noise, Heimdall points what’s essentially a giant energy cannon at an entire planet, from light-years away.” He hefted his bow, adjusting it. “Under those circumstances, I’m less than concerned about being able to hit the very center of the bull’s-eye.”
He kept walking and moved past Tony, who watched him, nonplussed.
From further ahead Sif called back, “The Bifrost should not be opened too close within the confines of civilization. It’s against the commands governing its uses. Should something go wrong, the surging energies could cause damage to what’s directly around it.”
Tony gesticulated at her. “See, you people should open with that disclaimer. It’d save an immense amount of time.”
At the point of the formation Hogun suddenly came to a halt, raising one fist. The others immediately fell silent and stopped (Tony maybe a fraction of a second behind the others).
“There’s something up ahead,” the warrior observed out loud. “A village of some sort, or possibly larger.”
Tony slipped his faceplate back into place. “Well, let’s see…”
With telescopic lenses he zoomed in far ahead of what even the keenest naked eye could see. In the digital overlay scanners hit dozens of pinpoints to get a read on building construction and body heat, running calculations and sending back estimates on age of the settlement and population density.
“Definitely more of a town,” he concluded. “Maybe even a city, if you’re going by medieval standards.”
“Could be a capitol or a military stronghold,” Hawkeye chimed in. He’d taken point and was staring off into the distance with that strangely glassy look in his eyes that meant he was using his own not-quite-a-superpower. “I’m seeing a lot of towers, soldiers, armaments. But what looks like a thriving marketplace as well.” He glanced at Thor. “Think it’s our destination?”
“This seems most likely. Can you tell me anything about the inhabitants?”
“They look like they belong on Middle Earth,” was Tony’s helpful contribution.
“Or in the middle of a Dungeon and Dragons session,” Clint added, far from disagreeing with him. “In fact if I didn’t know any better I think I spotted a few Drow.”
“Drow?” Thor’s eyes lit up in understanding. “That is one of your terms for Dark Elves, yes? Then we are on Svartalfheim!”
As Sif and the two other Asgardian warriors exchanged dirty glances (apparently ‘Svartalfheim’ wasn’t the hotspot place to be) Tony made a note: “Later on, we are definitely having a conversation about how exactly it is you know that. Because I’d like to know who in the world’s been feeding you notes on D&D.”
“Loki,” Steve and Clint both said in perfect, toneless unison. Thor only gave Tony a wounded, slightly confused look.
The best thing Tony could come up to respond with, after a beat, was, “It belatedly occurs to me that I have no normal friends.”
Understatement of likely several millennium, but that’s what happened when you caught him flatfooted.
They kept walking and as they got closer and closer to what was revealing itself to be an in fact very large city surrounded by a high stone wall, the group began formulating a plan out loud.
“Svartalfheim is not the friendliest of most realms, but neither is it the most hostile,” Thor observed. “Now that we better understand the lay of the land, I think it’s time we split up.”
“Why?” Fandral questioned. “If this is where Heimdall sent us, then it can only mean Loki must be close.”
“True. But we do not know for sure he’s taken refuge in the city, and we should not assume thus. A city of this size has several surrounding villages - my brother could be in one of those.” He pointed. “Fandral, I want you to stay with me, and you as well, Tony Stark. The far-sight granted you by your armor will greatly aid us in searching these many buildings. The rest of you should comb the nearby countryside.”
Sif tilted her head, a courteous smile on her face while she looked to Captain America, even as her eyes flashed challengingly. “Who is in charge, you or me?” she inquired.
Steve grinned mildly in response. “I think it only makes sense in these circumstances to yield position of authority to the one more familiar with the terrain.” He raised both hands, bowing. “After you, ma’am - er, milady.”
The look of disapproval that’d briefly appeared on Sif’s face vanished in an instant, either appeased or simply charmed away by Steve’s socially inept fumbling.
Hogun and Clint exchanged a wordless glance and a nod. “We’ll meet you back here at what, sundown?” the archer asked Thor.
“It seems a goodly enough plan.” He raised an arm in farewell as the two designated groups pulled apart. “Stay safe, my friends.”
Tony wasn’t sure exactly what he himself expected to see once they passed through the stone barricade and were inside the city proper. A group of thugs in chainmail armed with bludgeons demanding to see their papers? Chariots, processions, knights in armor? Peasants in rags and a wandering playing strolling by with a lute?
For the most part it was like any city back home. People walking along laughing with their friends, hustling on errands or begging for change. Sure, the clothes were radically different, there were no iPods or cellphones, and a few of the ‘normal citizens’ had pointy ears or funny-colored skin…but other than that, it was like any other day.
His suit didn’t even draw much attention beside overtly curious sidelong glances. Maybe it was assumed to be a particularly fancy coat of armor.
“So, this is exciting,” he had to remark brightly, after about half a block and several minutes. “May I ask just what exactly the plan is?”
“Plan! Why, what sort of adventurer are you, my friend?” Fandral laughed. “Everyone knows the most excitement comes when you work without.”
“Uh huh,” clearing his throat, he refocused his attentions on Thor. “So how ‘bout it, Homeward Bound? Any concrete ideas what we’re doing here?”
“While sir Fandral’s enthusiasm may be a bit…misplaced,” Thor glanced sidelong at his pal, “for the most, he has the essence of it. If there is one thing Loki is unquestioningly good at, it is survival - adaptation. He’s been in this realm for many weeks. No doubt he’s made himself some niche.”
“Yeah. The question is, is he keeping his head low - or doing the other thing?” He had witnessed firsthand the many rainbow flavors across the spectrum of Loki’s personality. On a bad day, he could make a bipolar off his meds look monotonous.
“There’s only one way to find out,” Thor responded. “By looking.”
So they did. For the better part of three hours. They were in some part of the planet Fandral and Thor seemed to have some familiarity with - or at least, they were quick about finding all the taverns and shady neighborhoods where lowlifes and information were most likely to hide.
But no one they asked could turn them onto a man of Loki’s description. It seemed in these parts he was unheard of and unseen.
Tony contributed to the search at its most basic level, by scanning busy streets and overhead crowded areas. But nothing came up on his facial recognition program.
“Perhaps the others will have some better luck,” Fandral offered. If he sounded putout, it was only because he was - no less than four times had Thor had to grab hold of him physically when his eyes and attentions wandered off onto some ‘fair maid’. Or ‘fair lass’. Or anything vaguely shaped female.
(Tony was definitely telling Pepper about that when he got home. To think she thought he had problems.)
Thor was frowning deeply, too anxious about his brother to notice his friend’s attitude. “If only Heimdall had been able to tell us anything at all,” he complained. “I’ve no doubt he put us near to Loki, but there are too many places here he could hide.”
“Almost a shame he got that whole megalomania thing out of his system early. If he’d conquered or ravaged the place, that’d make him easy to find.”
Thor drew a breath and ground his teeth. “I will search this entire realm if I must,” he swore. “Leave no space unturned, question every soul, until I find my brother and bring him home!”
“I’ve heard this speech before,” Tony mused - but this time he kept it to himself, not letting it carry out via the speakers.
He turned his head. They were on a smaller cobbled road near the middle of town, in an area that was slightly rundown but far from desolate. The street rolled at a funny angle and every now and then there was a clattering sound from a horse-drawn cart that passed by. Women walked past with baskets on their heads or under their arms, and the air echoed with the faint sounds of voices coming from every direction.
One corner was nosier than most, and he recognized the open door and flurry of activity in the darkness that led to a lively bar.
“Let’s have us a drink,” Tony suggested, hydraulics whirring as he already walked in that direction. He figured a short and well-earned break couldn’t do them any harm.
Thor and Fandral followed him, the latter with a noise of cheery agreement.
“I am hardly in the mood,” Thor protested, growling. “And we’ve no time to waste with these distractions!”
“Sure we do,” Tony said without pause. “This’ll only take a minute. I swear. Come on, it’ll help you clear your head. One quick nip while I buy a round for the house.” Then he did pause, remembering.
“Uh, one of you guys can cover me on this, right? You know I’m good for it. I just left my wallet in my other pants. Plus, I’m assuming they don’t take plastic here. Just guessing.”
“Perhaps we should seek another venue.” Thor had stopped walking and was staring, musing and slightly dumbfounded, at a fresh poster tacked up just above the door.
Tony turned around and tilted his neck. He couldn’t translate the writing (seriously, why runes?) but from the image the message was damn near unmistakable. A half-naked woman was pictured in mostly profile, body twisting in a suggestive pose as she gazed out at the viewer with a come-hither look. From the outfit he gathered she was supposed to be whatever in these parts passed for a stripper.
“Live entertainment?” he observed.
“Dancing girls!” Fandral clapped Thor on the shoulder with a broad grin, chortling. “Good thinking, old friend! We’ll send you off to your inevitable marital fate right.”
“Not surprising Asgard already knows of something like a bachelor party.”
Thor shook his head, impatient, mind evidently on matters less carnal. He pointed. “That blue skin, those markings - that appearance is expected for the Frost Giants of Jotunheim,” he explained for Tony’s benefit.
Fandral made a sound heavy with disbelief. “You think that woman is supposed to be a Jotun? Everyone knows their twisted race boasts no females!”
Thor’s mouth pressed into a line. Silent, out of Fandral’s line of sight, he turned his head to look meaningfully in Tony’s direction.
The pieces clicked together in Tony’s head. He lifted his faceplate so he could meet Thor’s eyes, and give him the raised eyebrows.
Loki was secretly a Frost Giant. Loki also had the habit of turning into a chick on occasion. And Loki did have the tendency to turn up in the strangest places. Ergo…
“You have got to be kidding me,” he muttered, shaking his head the best he could whilst in the confines of the helmet.
Fandral finally turned around and noticed the looks his companions were exchanging. His brow puckered in confusion. “What?”
Thor’s mouth parted as if to speak, then he hesitated as he looked to Fandral and back at Tony again. His face was conflicted, almost distraught as he tried in vain to think of a good explanation. How to offer it seemed logical Loki might be the she-giant dancer without letting the cat out of the bag?
Tony cleared his throat. “You know,” he began, feigning a tone of distracted contemplation, “I realize this might sound crazy, but. Hear me out. That might just be Loki.” He ticked off the points: “We know he can shape-shift. He’s certainly been a girl before. And with his inherent love of…weirdness, maybe he decided to pose as the one female member of a species that isn’t supposed to have them, just for the attention.”
The expression Thor shot him was practically melting off his face in gratitude.
“But, a Frost Giant,” Fandral stammered, incredulous. “Loki hates them. Even more than the usual. Did you never hear he once tried to destroy their world in an effort to - cleanse them from the galaxy?”
“I did,” Tony said…and now that he really thought about that story, wow. There were so many issues on display right there at the surface. “But who knows. It wouldn’t be the first time Loki’s found a way to twist love and hate all around.”
To his credit, he resisted looking directly at Thor.
He finished up, with a shrug, “It couldn’t hurt to check, right?”
“I suppose not,” Thor said in a forcibly even tone. “It’s not as if we have any other clues.”
Fandral’s doubt was still palpable, but he seemed content to follow his appointed leader. “At least we can take in the show, while we’re there.”
The place hosting the dancing girls was actually a fairly nice venue, located not too far from where they were. After a few coins exchanged hands the three were led discretely down a hall, through a velvet curtain into a room that opened up into a wider space than had been anticipated.
The lights were low. They managed to slide in unobtrusively near the door. The room was full of men sitting at small tables, drinking and having a good time. There was a wooden stage along one side of the room, and unseen musicians played a sensuous tune with pipes and a horn, low and sweet. Onstage in a candlelit spotlight a thin blonde with long ears and upturned eyes wiggled back and forth.
Tony kept his helmet up. “I would like it to go on record that I am here because you asked me to be,” he stated, offhand yet precise.
The music stopped and the blonde skipped off to a staccato of whistles and applause. In an unlit corner near the stage a fat man stood up, grin visible even in the gloom as he bellowed his words.
“Gentlemen!” He spread his arms wide, head turning. “And now for what I know many of you came here to see! The headline of tonight’s entertainment presented for your supreme pleasure; the crowning sensual sapphire of Nezzori’s Dancing Darlings; lovely to look upon and talented to behold, you’ll never see her like on this realm or any other - the one, the only, Throkk!”
More than half the room went nuts, showing far more enthusiasm for an act that hadn’t even started than the one they’d just finished watching. There was an outpouring of shouts, catcalls, whistles and cheers.
The music started up again and this time it wasn’t just pipes and horns. There was the twang of something like a sitar or a dulcimer - one of those funny little stringed instruments Tony could never get right. And there were drums. Pounding steady, low, the pre-electric alternative to turning up the bass.
And onto the stage strutted the dancer that had been named as Throkk, hips swaying in time to the beat.
A small piece of Tony’s mind was aware that if this really did turn out to be Loki, it was going to be kind of awkward.
Baring the occasional misplaced whistle the crowd went silent. Every eye in the place was on the dancer, her toned and lean body beneath the candlelight, dappled shadows flickering against dark blue skin that seemed almost reptilian, broken up by patterns that looked like raised tattoos. Her hair was black, kept off her face by a long braid. And her eyes were a burning crimson red.
Tony didn’t have to look to know Thor was searching her face, trying to see if he could find any recognition there. For his part, Tony wasn’t sure. Throkk’s features were pointed and angular enough, but the blue skin was something of a distraction. Likewise the breasts and hips.
Briefly he pulled his helmet back on and scanned her face, mapping for digital comparison. The suit’s programming accepted the variables and started running the numbers.
It came up with a shiny 97 percent probability match.
“Hey, Thor,” Tony started, taking the helmet off again. But at that very moment the performer started spicing up the routine.
She’d mostly been turning around on stage, waving her arms and undulating a bit. Now she swiftly bent over backwards, struck the floor with her palm - and was lifted back again as she clung to a bar that rose straight up made out of ice.
“Oh, that’s gotta be Loki.” The stripper pole clinched it - who else could’ve come up with that without having paid a few visits to Earth?
But Fandral and Thor didn’t seem to have heard his decisive mutter.
The audience voiced their hearty approval as the dancer moved closer to the pole, sliding down with her back against it, caressing the object suggestively with both hands. She turned and repeated the motion with her front side, arching her upper body and throwing in a head toss for good measure.
Then, in perfect time with the siren call of the music, she hooked one knee around the pole and bent way, way back, hanging off supported by nothing but a single limb. It wasn’t just erotic; it was damned athletically impressive. Tony would know: he’d been asked to guest judge at the International Pole-Dancing Championships a few times.
Loki (yeah; he was going to have to keep reminding himself this was Loki, otherwise it was going to lead to a place really bad) leaned forward and grabbed on with one hand for balance, and then without pause went into a very fast controlled spin, body sliding outwards until the only thing keeping attached to the pole were curled fingers and the curve of one ankle.
“Good lord,” Fandral whispered in what was decidedly aroused awe, eyes wide.
He wasn’t the only one. The seated men were hooting and screaming as Loki dropped gracefully off the pole to lie on the ground, head at almost a lazy angle as the body rolled slowly side to side.
“Nice floorwork,” Tony observed with a note of professional commentary.
Fandral’s eyes slid over to him. “You mean to say…is it actually common for one to be able to watch this sort of performance on Midgard?” His voice warbled.
“Oh yeah, sure. Not always of this caliber, but it’s all over the place.”
“Ah.” He paused. “Do…do you suppose, that the next time I stop by-?”
“My friends.” Thor turned around abruptly, and Fandral immediately clammed up. The prince met both their gazes entreatingly. “My eyes cannot be certain, but in my heart I have a strong feeling that this is my brother.”
Tony couldn’t help finding it a bit bemusing that as he was saying this, ‘his brother’ was in the background gyrating for tips and Thor seemed completely unbothered. Either the big guy was an excellent compartmentalizer or their home family life was even more bizarre than Tony was already aware of.
Well, they could talk about that later. If ever. Probably not. Probably never, in fact. “It isn’t just your gut,” he reassured Thor. “Facial analysis says it’s likelier than not that this is our…uh, guy.”
Thor’s face lit up. “Excellent. We should go and find someplace to wait until we can talk to him after.”
Fandral protested slowly, “What, we’re not going to stay and watch the rest?”
“Yeah,” Tony had to agree, “it seems like kind of a shame. I mean, he’s really working it out there.”
With what at first glance could’ve been called an oblivious grin on his face Thor placed one big hand on each of their shoulders and steered them towards the door, not forceful but with more than enough strength to broker absolutely no room for argument.
“Come along,” he stated with a staunch kind of cheer, seemingly not having heard a word they said.
On second thought maybe he had more awareness than Tony gave him credit for.
*
Back on Asgard, Darcy was trying to mentally prepare herself for another day babysitting what she had come to think of as Jane’s vapid, slutty evil twin.
It was pretty sad, really. She missed the real version of her friend, and felt terrible whatever had happened to her was making her act this way. And frankly, if for no other reason, she should probably stay close just to make sure Jane didn’t say or do anything she would regret later.
But none of that canceled out how it was brain-numbingly aggravating right now being in the same room as her.
She was acting like an amalgamation of the bitchy popular girls and sorority sisters Darcy had absolutely hated throughout high school and college. And here she’d thought the tradeoff for her life being tangled up in supervillains and space aliens was that she’d never have to deal with people like that ever again. If she had to resist the urge to roll her eyes much harder she was going to do serious damage to her retinas.
Not to mention as-is Jane wasn’t exactly being nice to Darcy, or even really seemed to want her around, so Darcy had to keep making up tenuous excuses for being there.
All in all, she really hoped Thor and the others found Loki and got back to Asgard soon.
Taking a deep breath and doing her best to remember what she’d read on the internet once about protecting her “inner calm”, Darcy plastered a smile on her face and walked into the room.
“Hey,” she greeted overly cheerily, using her best ‘girlfriend’ voice, “what’s up? Missed you at breakfast, so I brought you a bowl of fruit, in case you could use a snack-”
She stopped in her tracks the moment she took in the scene in the room.
Jane was seated in a plush high-backed chair at the center of the room, one leg crossed over the other, wearing a slinky shimmering dress that was slit all the way up her thighs. There was a small army of Asgardian men paying audience to her.
Two of them were fanning her. Another was massaging her shoulders. On either side of her one filed her nails while another fed her peeled grapes. And a final one was kneeling on the ground in front of her, literally kissing her foot. Also, none of the men happened to be wearing any shirts.
Darcy’s arms went slack and she almost dropped the bowl she was carrying as she gaped openly.
Jane blinked her eyes, tilting her head up to glance in her direction lazily. “Oh,” she said, careless. “That’s very thoughtful of you, thanks.” She pointed to the stud that was on grape duty. “But as you can see, I’ve already got that taken care of.”
“What the hell is going on in here?” Darcy demanded, disbelieving. “Who…are these guys?” She didn’t even recognize any of them, let alone get what they were doing fawning half-naked all over Jane.
Jane looked around at the harem she had collected. “Hmm. I don’t remember most of their names. Not that it’s important,” she concluded with a smirk.
Darcy’s eyebrows went way, way up. “Not important? You’ve got that one guy practically giving you a pedicure with his mouth, and remembering what to call them isn’t important?” She was trying not to sound disgusted and failing. “What are they even here for?”
Jane gave her a look like she was the one who was being silly. “Why, I thought it was obvious.” She straightened in her chair. “They’re here to serve me.” Pulling her hand back she idly examined the job that had been done on her nails. “Treat me with all the respect and adoration I deserve. Surely you can appreciate that?”
Not a single one of the men had spoken. They were all hanging on Jane’s every word, giving her looks that were an equal mixture of come hither and complete subservience.
And yeah, there was a tiny voice inside of Darcy that took in the scene in front of her and went “fuck yeah!” On a certain level it was very emotionally satisfying.
But this was also reality. And in reality, it would’ve been a whole lot cooler if not for two facts: one, the Jane she knew would never do something like this, and two, Jane was supposedly in the midst of celebrating her engagement to Thor.
“What are you doing?” Darcy stormed in closer - one of the guys got up to intersect her, and she shoved the forgotten bowl of fruit at his chest, forcing him to take it. “Have you gone nuts? What are you going to do if somebody sees you?”
Jane gave her a severely unimpressed look. “Why should it matter if someone sees me?”
“Um, because last I checked, you’re not exactly unspoken for?”
Speaking of people who were already attached, at that moment Volstagg came into the room bearing a huge platter of sliced meats and cheeses. He walked past Darcy like he didn’t see her, before she could even say anything, and presented the tray to Jane like it was an offering with a witless smile on his face.
“Some sustenance for your approval, milady,” he breathed adoringly. “May it be somehow worthy of both your beauty and favor.”
“Whoa, wait. What?” Darcy exclaimed. “Volstagg, what are you even…why are you doing this?”
Volstagg looked at her blankly, confused. “Is there some reason that I should not? Why shouldn’t I be lavishing praise and whatever offerings I can bring upon such a vision of nigh-holy feminine perfection?”
In silence Darcy took in the tableau. The others all stared back at her, the men with the same blank animal expression, and Jane with one eyebrow lifted in challenge and irritation. They were looking at her like she was the one who wasn’t making any sense here.
“Okay. Is everyone here very stoned?” Darcy raised her arms halfway, shutting her eyes briefly as she tried to focus. “Seriously, what is going on? Jane; you’re happily engaged to these guys’ prince, remember? So, this Chippendale reunion tour you’ve got here is kind of a no-no. And as for these guys, I can’t help noticing that they’re acting exactly like…”
She trailed off in the realization that the glassy, passive looks in their eyes were indeed incredibly familiar. It was the same way Thor had been acting before she’d gotten him to snap out of it.
The slavish obsession, the mindless doting…Darcy’s heart sank in dread. “Oh no,” she said, slowly. So it wasn’t only Thor? Whatever kind of ‘whammy’ was hanging around Jane was contagious to any man?
When she looked back up she found that a few of the men, including Volstagg, had stood and drifted closer placing themselves protectively between her and Jane. Jane remained seated, the look on her face increasingly sour as she gave Darcy a stare that plainly indicated she resented the intrusion.
Well, she could just deal with it. Whether she realized it or not, what Darcy was doing was for her own good.
She gave Jane a defiant look, and then sharply turned to address Volstagg. “Why are you here?”
“Wherever else in all the Nine Realms would I rather be, than here with the one that I adore?” he breathed with full feeling. “Ready to offer myself up in whatever way possible to the fairest, the most goodly, the most divine…”
“Let me stop you right there.” Despite that she knew it wasn’t really his fault, Darcy couldn’t help that her voice was full of disapproval. “Tell me something: does the name Siún ring any bells? No? Just maybe?”
As she pressed her point home Volstagg first looked puzzled, then dismayed.
He blinked dimly and shook his head. With an expression of hearty confusion he glanced to Jane then looked back at where Darcy was waiting with raised eyebrows and a scowl.
He drew up and cleared his throat, halfheartedly trying to save face. “I think I should go now and…find my wife.”
He wandered out, emanating waves of determination and still lingering confusion.
“Yeah,” Darcy remarked as he walked past her, deadpan. “Good call.”
She glanced at the remaining Asgardians but not knowing anything about them she stared at Jane again, challengingly.
Jane met her eyes and with purposeful, stately movements got to her feet and strode over.
“I don’t know exactly who it is you think you are, or what kind of standing you have here,” she murmured, darkly. “But I promise you, you do not want to make an enemy of me.”
“I don’t want to be your enemy,” Darcy agreed, keeping eye contact as she shook her head. “But enough is enough. And if I don’t do something you’re going to screw things up royally.”
Jane gave a dark chuckle and a sneer.
“Believe me, you have no idea what you’re talking about. The only one who’s on the verge of ruining it all, everything that I’ve worked for, is you.”
She reached out to grab Darcy’s forearm in one tight, long-nailed fist. Instinctively Darcy flinched back out of reach.
But not before she caught sight of a few dancing green sparks, like static electricity, that jumped from Jane’s skin towards hers.
That little moment was like being hit over the head by a two-by-four.
Darcy stared. “Did…did you just try to use magic on me?” she demanded, feeling herself grow pale and cold with surprise.
Jane pulled her hand back but it was too late. Darcy had seen the way the energy came out and then was called back to her, having witnessed Loki do something similar many a time.
That wasn’t what an enchantment already in effect looked like. That only happened when someone was actively casting a spell.
“Oh my god.” Darcy took a step backward.
“Darcy…” Jane held a hand out to her, voice trying to sound soothing. But it was undermined by the hungry look, a mixture of angry and frightened, in her eyes.
“No. Jane doesn’t know how to use magic.” The bottom dropped out of her stomach and she felt horrifyingly sick. “And there’s no way she just learned, either. You’re…you’re not Jane. You’re somebody else!”
An imposter. All this time she’d been trying to take care of her friend, worrying over what had gone wrong with her, when in fact she’d been replaced.
Fake Jane hissed and made another grab for her, more violently this time. Darcy just barely slipped away from her grasp, and turning around gave into her panic and bolted.
She ran out of the room, into the hallway and with the barest glance around to determine there were no possible allies in sight, picked a direction at random and kept on going.
Behind her she heard the sound of the doors being thrown open and didn’t have to look back to know she was being followed.
“Wait! My dear friend, come back here and I can explain!” At first the fake called after her plaintively. But within seconds she dropped the charade when it was clear that wasn’t going to work. “Curse you, you little wretch,” she snarled. “When I get my hands on you…!”
Darcy kept running, unable to stop and catch her breath. Her mind and heart were racing with things she had no time to process.
Later, when it caught up with her, it was not going to be a good time. She felt like such an idiot. But more than that, she felt raw and violated for having been so taken advantage of.
For days on end she had been at a loss over what was making Jane act so weird, so unlike herself. Well, the answer had been in front of her all along: Jane was not herself. She was somebody else. Someone who’d stolen her place, wormed her way in and taken Jane’s face and loved ones and life for their own. And the whole time Darcy had been right there, had sat next to her and talked to her and shared things, intimate things, or at least she had tried.
And it was impossible to tell what was worse. How much of a failure it made her, for not being able to tell the obvious, for not having a clue it wasn’t her own friend. Or how deeply it stung, knowing a stranger had wormed past her defenses and into her confidence with such a nasty trick.
If she really let her brain settle into thinking about it she’d be sick. She’d lose focus and wouldn’t be able to run anymore, and right now that couldn’t happen.
If the Fake Jane, whoever she really was, caught up to her, then that would be the end of it. She’d hypnotize Darcy into playing along, or do something worse and get rid of her altogether.
Oh god, Darcy suddenly thought: where was the real Jane? Where had she been all this time, while this fake was wearing her clothes and kissing her fiancé and pretending to be her? Was she even still alive, or-?
No, Darcy told herself firmly with frightened tears in her eyes. Don’t even think about that.
She’d worry about figuring out what happened to Jane later. Right now she just had to get away.
Through one corridor and down another she went, stone walls and pillars and tapestries whipping by out of sight, barely noticed. Why was it Asgard was so full of people when you wanted to be alone but so empty when you needed rescuing?
There was a flash of movement up ahead as someone stepped out of a doorway. Lungs aching, Darcy marshaled up her last reserves of strength and flung herself that direction fast as her legs would carry her.
“Help!” she gasped. “Please! You have to hide me! I need help getting away from-!”
What was left of her ragged voice died in her throat as she caught silver flashes of plate armor and a long pale braid and realized she was looking at Freya.
The Shieldmaid stood her ground and watched Darcy with an aloof gaze as the mortal woman reached where she was, steps stumbling and unsteady as she almost fell right over.
“You,” Darcy panted, far from thrilled. But beggars couldn’t exactly be choosers. She struggled to speak, chest heaving as she caught her breath. “Can you…help? I think I’m still being followed…”
Freya’s cold eyes were steady and she looked at Darcy with disapproval. “I don’t particularly see why I should.”
Darcy glanced up at her, wide-eyed, then stole a look over her own shoulder in panic. No sign of Fake Jane or her flunkies. But did she maybe hear voices in the distance?
“Lady, what is your problem?” she demanded of Freya, exasperated and desperate, sweat beading on her face. “Is this still about Loki? I’m in trouble, right in front of you and asking for help, and you won’t do it because your sister-in-law hates him?”
Then her eyes refocused on Freya with new suspicion as she thought about the timing. Because how many bad and unconnected things could happen at once?
“Or is this because it has something to do with her?”
Freya shifted her weight, face remaining emotionless as she drew her chin up. It hit Darcy insistently that it was somehow a tell.
“It all comes back to Nanna somehow, doesn’t it? Nanna and her ancient grudge,” Darcy exclaimed. “What did she do to Jane?”
“Lady Nanna never laid a hand on her,” Freya muttered.
“But she’s connected, isn’t she? Somehow she made this happen.” Darcy’s thoughts raced as she tried to figure it out: “What was the plan - get Loki out of the way so he’d be powerless to stop you from ruining his brother’s marriage? Get revenge on the throne by embarrassing them? How petty can you get.”
“Bite your tongue,” Freya snapped out. There was a flash of color, sharp red on the highest part of her pale cheeks, that made Darcy think she’d struck close to home. “There is nothing petty about this. About what happened to Nanna because of Loki. About what was done to our family.”
“No. You’re right, it wasn’t. That was wrong, all of it.” Darcy set her jaw. “But what you’re doing is just as bad. Using tricks and lies to get back at people. It’s nothing more than the worst possible kind of revenge.”
From what she’d experienced with Asgardians, Darcy expected Freya not to listen to a word she was saying. To be condescending and dismissive and angry at best. After all, she was a goddess, and Darcy was only a young and silly human. How could her words carry any weight?
But Freya didn’t respond to her at first. There was rigidness in her posture, a discomfited bend about the line of her mouth.
“And you know I’m right, don’t you,” Darcy realized, peering at her. “I can see it in your face.”
Freya huffed and actually shifted, turning her head as if wary of meeting Darcy’s eyes.
“You’re like some kind of lady knight, right. You stand for things like truth and honor and the good of all people,” Darcy pressed. “You’re supposed to be better than this. And I’m betting it wasn’t your idea.”
“No. It wasn’t,” Freya bit out, shortly. “But that makes no difference. Ultimately it has nothing to do with me. This is my lady’s will.” Her voice was grave, gaze wandering and unfocused as she tried to reassure herself. “I follow her command. That is my duty. That is where my honor resides.”
“‘Just following orders’? That’s your excuse?” Darcy scoffed. “That hasn’t held up since the beginning of time, and much as you try to convince yourself you know it isn’t good enough. What about your family? What about the king of Asgard - aren’t you supposed to be loyal to him, too? And do you think your nephew and brother would be okay with you blindly going along with this; that they’d say you were only doing what you had to do?”
She was certain these were all questions that on some level Freya had already been asking herself. The whole time they’d been on Asgard, while Nanna was bitter and hostile and throwing her weight around, Freya had held back, silent as a ghost. Maybe her only job was to be loyal and subservient and help Nanna get what she wanted, but this couldn’t be sitting well with her. Not if she was half the person Thor and Sif and everyone else had painted her as.
There was definitely the sound of voices behind her, this time - Darcy looked back and thought she saw a shadow moving. From far off against the marble floors the echoing tread of footsteps came.
She stared at Freya again. “Look,” she said, hurried, “no matter what’s happened, you still have a chance to make it right. It’s not too late. And you can start by helping me out here,” she pleaded. “Protect me from these guys. Please!”
Freya drew a breath and didn’t say anything. Stonily she looked at Darcy, considering.
“You have a chance to still be honorable,” Darcy insisted, hoping she wasn’t pressing her luck. “You should take it, before things get too far and there’s no coming back.”
Another few seconds ticked by as Freya kept thinking. Inside Darcy wanted to scream.
At last, slowly, the Shieldmaid nodded.
“Quickly.” She looked past Darcy, checking to see how close the searchers were. “This way. Come with me.”
Darcy breathed a wordless deep sigh of relief, letting Freya take her by the arm and lead her to safety through a hidden doorway.
She shouldn’t let herself get too carried away, she knew. It was only one small victory after a long line of bad events. But it was a victory, nonetheless. And it sparked some hope in her that maybe the tide was turning.
*
While he never let himself forget what his real goals were, that his ‘success’ with the traveling troupe was only a means to an end, the longer his double life went on the more and more Loki threw himself into his performances.
By the end of the night he was quite tired, muscles aching, sleep only just hovering out of reach, ready to steal over him at a moment’s notice.
Back in his tent, he changed into a long dressing gown and with heavy-lidded eyes began working his hair free from a deceptively complicated braid.
He was glad he’d talked Balder into taking an evening off. Reassuring though the presence of his appointed security could be, right now he only wanted to be alone.
Ever since it had become clear their true relation, they had become more open and honest with one another. Balder had more questions than ever he did before and Loki had even more stories to tell. They had come to truly know one another, in a way they clearly never had when they were young.
And while Loki would’ve scarcely believed it for how he remembered despising the other, he found he had become quite…fond of his cousin. That perhaps they could even be considered friends.
Oh, they had little enough in common, despite both possessing a sense of humor and ultimately good intentions. Loki’s sharp tongue and twisted mind stood in counterpoint to Balder’s unfailing honesty and straightforward ways. And yet, they never quarreled, but only sighed and maybe smiled in amusement, accepting the ‘failings’ of the other. Balder was too kind, Loki too impatient, to pick an argument over their vast differences in opinion.
And while it was…nice, Loki couldn’t shake a sense of bewilderment at it all. Balder had been Asgard’s shining star, he it’s unruly shadow. They weren’t supposed to like one another. Their own mythology had as good as branded them mortal enemies.
And even if Balder tolerated Loki, by nature of being Balder, he certainly wasn’t supposed to turn his saintly chivalrous nature Loki’s way and act as his protector. But he had. He’d become aware of Loki as a being with pain, and seemed to want nothing more than to do what he could to soothe it.
Loki regretted having let Balder see so much of his scars - it was more than he’d ever given away of himself to another person, at least all at once. It seemed to have irreparably marked him in Balder’s mind as, if not fragile, then tragic and sympathetic.
But Loki did not want to be sympathized with, and often he rankled under Balder’s well-intentioned hovering.
A little distance was all that was needed to repair the damage, though, whenever he found he was getting sick to death of his cousin. And so impossibly, unfathomably, they continued on.
That night though Loki momentarily regretted not keeping Balder around to ensure his privacy, when he was pulled from gazing unfocused into his vanity mirror by another one of the dancers bursting in.
The girl that threw aside the tent flap was a blond elf with some boring common name Loki couldn’t recall, like Elsie or Bessie, but that preferred to be called “Swan” onstage because she danced with a pair of white-feathered fans.
“Throkk,” she hissed at Loki, “you’ve got some new admirers. Three men that want to see you personally. They’re being very insistent. They must want you real bad.”
Loki groaned, annoyed. “Don’t let them come back here,” he instructed her peevishly. It wasn’t the first time this had happened; he was hardly in the mood. Men who came looking for the girls after the show were good for nothing but undesired fawning and wooing - or hoped that for the right coin a favorite dancer could be persuaded to ‘entertain’ in other ways.
Swan put hands on her bony hips, sucking the inside of her cheek. “I think they’re Asgardian,” she commented with a note of wonder. “One of them even looks like the prince.”
Loki’s fingers went momentarily numb and the hairbrush almost slipped from his grasp.
Could it be? He turned around sharply. “I’ll see them,” he ordered. “Send them back.”
He stood waiting at the center of the tent, having half-prepared himself for disappointment, when the three familiar figures entered: his brother, followed by Fandral the Dashing and the Iron Man.
“Thor,” Loki gasped out in unabashed relief and wonder.
“Brother! It is you,” Thor said triumphantly, face splitting in a warm beam.
Mindless of Loki’s appearance - female, Jotun, half-dressed and hair in a tangle - he approached him with arms spread wide. And Loki was far, far too genuinely happy to retreat into being standoffish. He stepped forward and both accepted and returned the embrace, though he was careful not to let their skin come into direct contact.
Thor gave him a brief, extra tight squeeze before releasing him, as if the weeks they’d been separated had been much longer. “I am so happy we were able to find you!”
When they pulled apart again Loki gazed at him, laughing out his confusion. “How…?”
“It was not easy. And I’m sorry to say, it took us longer to miss you than perhaps it should have. But once we followed your trail Heimdall was able to offer his assistance.”
“But he shouldn’t have been able to.” He paused, swallowing as he prepared himself to give information Thor wouldn’t like hearing revealed. “Thor…the reason I left was because of a promise I made to Lady Nanna. She forced me to go. She wanted me away from Asgard.”
Thor only nodded, grave. “We had already figured out as much for ourselves.”
“It was Sif who thought your one aunt might’ve gotten Heimdall to swear to secrecy,” Tony Stark put in. He was wearing his red and gold armor, but without the helmet, which meant Loki could see the nonchalance on his face when he added, “By the way, great show. Who would’ve thought you could be so, uh, flexible.”
“Or kick nearly so high,” Fandral put in straightforwardly.
Loki’s gaze bounced between the two of them, alarmed, as he’d a belated awful realization. “You…both of you. You saw?”
“Sure did,” Stark said, bright. “And on as long as we’re on the subject: when exactly between all the supervillain-ing did you learn how to do that? Because this begs a few questions. Not to mention interesting mental images.”
“Of all the people that had to have seen this,” Loki ground out, angry and a bit mortified, “why did it have to be you?”
“This is not important.” Thor rested a hand on his shoulder, brief, to get his attention. His expression was searching. “Loki; I admit I do not understand. It may have been our aunt’s doing but how did she persuade you into leaving in the first place?”
“It was a deal we struck. I asked what I could do to keep her from ruining your engagement; the only thing that would satisfy her was for me to be gone,” he explained hollowly, bitter. He disliked admitting he had been taken advantage of. “She had the Bifrost send me to Jotunheim, though I was able to quickly escape to Svartalfheim, and upon his honor Heimdall was made to swear he would tell no one where I had gone.”
“Jotunheim,” Thor breathed, quiet. His eyes flashed with anger, understanding what had been intended by forcing Loki to return there. But he moved past it and managed to smile. “Well, oath or no, it was lucky for us Heimdall was able to find a way around his promise.”
Struck by memory Loki gave a wry, dark smile he knew none of them would understand. “Oh, yes,” he chuckled, “he’s quite capable in that regard.”
He shook his head, expression changing when he once again looked at Thor and the others.
“But I never thought that you would come looking for me.”
“It’s not just us,” Fandral informed him with a grin. “Sif and Hogun are here, too. As well as some more of Thor’s Avenger companions!”
“Volstagg would have come as well, I’m sure,” Thor added, “but I preferred him to remain at home where I knew he already wished to be - attending to his newborn son.”
“Siún’s given birth already,” Loki gathered, somewhat numbly. It struck a chord of resentment within him that he had been forced to miss it. “Are they doing well?”
“Yes. Both mother and child are healthy, and Volstagg couldn’t be more happy, or proud.” Thor’s expression rapidly soured. “But I am afraid that isn’t all you have missed out on, brother, and it’s the only part of it that is good news. Many bad tidings are afoot on Asgard. We must return home, and quickly.”
“Indeed we must, but…before we do.” Loki almost laughed again, as he thought of Balder. “There’s something you must see. Brother: I have quite the surprise for you.”
*
LINK TO CONCLUSION
LINK TO PART FIVE
Title: We Are Our Own Folklore (Part 6: Seven In One Blow)
Characters: Loki, Thor, Darcy, Amora, Balder, Sif, Warriors Three, Heimdall, Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, Clint Barton, original characters; mention of others
Pairings: Loki/Darcy, Thor/Jane, Thor/Amora, Volstagg/OC, Amora/OCs
Rating: R for grimness, dark themes, gender weirdness, mild gore and semi-explicit sexuality
Length: 17,130 words
Summary: After what might seem to some like the world's longest courtship, Loki and Darcy are finally dating, and Thor and Jane are set to be married. But during the engagement party several intervening parties are out to throw a wrench into both relationships in a big way. Some of them are outsiders, but some come from much closer, and through uncomfortable ties to the past.
Notes: Part of my ongoing series. For further notes see part one.
Alternate link to story at AO3; please comment either here or there.
Part 6: Seven In One Blow
Tony tried not to feel like he had lost one of his major senses.
As he looked at the alien realm through his helmet’s sensors the HUD lit up, in alternating waves, like a Christmas tree; pinpointing and analyzing everything before him. The smaller displays tracking the suit’s functions ticked off in their respective corners. Far as he could tell - and he was very, very good at this sort of thing - even after two tries being slingshotted through a wormhole the armor was performing smoothly. It was all systems go.
But nothing felt quite the same without JARVIS’ voice offering dry commentary at his ears.
It nagged at him, like the suit’s timing was somehow off, like being dragged down by the weight of a phantom limb.
As spectacular an AI he had built, though, even a product of Tony’s genius at the caliber that was JARVIS couldn’t be on two opposite ends of the universe at the same time. Too much of the hardware was housed in physical locations on Earth anyway.
So for this mission Tony was - well, not exactly flying solo. He had an entire backup system of programming in the suit already in place just for this kind of eventuality. Being that it was his programming, it appeared to be functioning flawlessly.
It didn’t think for itself, though. It was designed to go through certain processes automatically. And it didn’t talk back to him. Tony found that he missed that.
Nothing to be done about it, though. So he stuck to doing what he was doing.
And trying not to feel like he was flying blind.
“You’re being awfully quiet, Lord Stark,” Fandral commented from beside him. Spread in an arrow formation the group was trekking their way across a plain full of oily, waist-high grass. Well, the rest of the group was trekking; Tony had his thrusters engaged so he hovered a few feet up, boots just skimming the roughage. “Something on your mind?”
“No. Not really,” Tony responded, easy. “Just thinking about how I miss the voices in my head.”
That earned him a wordless side-eye from most of the Asgardians.
Barton and Thor ignored him. Underneath his cowl however Cap’s face actually looked slightly pitying, because goddammit, Steve.
“You can run the suit okay without JARVIS, can’t you?” he asked, trying to disguise his concern at being solely practical and mission-based and not fooling Tony one iota.
“Yeah, sure. Just the first time I’ve ever had to do it for an extended period, is all. It’s a little disorienting.” Emphatically he made a point to add, “I’m fine.”
Steve gazed at him unblinkingly. “I never said that you weren’t.”
The pause that came next lingered on about three seconds too long to not be considered awkward.
“Maybe I should fly ahead,” Tony suggested, “scout the terrain a bit.”
“Nay.” Thor looked back over his shoulder. “This realm could be a hostile one. Until we have a better idea where we are, we should stay together.”
“Thor’s right,” Steve agreed. Not like he was really in charge, at the moment - the alien prince was running the show, this being his area of expertise. “We could have enough problems. The last thing we need is someone getting lost or separated. So stick close.”
“Fine.”
Begrudgingly Tony disengaged his thrusters and dropped down to ground level. If he was going to have to stay at the group’s pace anyway, he might as well walk.
The gray weeds scraped against the armor on his legs and he raised his faceplate to shoot a grimace. Ugh, he was going to get burrs in his knee joints, wasn’t he?
“You know I don’t get why we even ended up out here, anyway,” he remarked suspiciously. “What, Heimdall can see everything and knows exactly where we need to go, so would it have killed him to actually put us there?”
“I’m assuming we’re close as he could make it,” Barton said, looking steadily forward as he weaved his way through. “Probably shouldn’t fault the guy for not being able to pin the wings off a fly with a bazooka.”
“The archer is stoically accepting of someone else’s bad aim. Seriously? Am I hearing this right?”
He gave Tony a withering look. “Far as I understand it, with every sight and sound in the universe screaming in his ear as background noise, Heimdall points what’s essentially a giant energy cannon at an entire planet, from light-years away.” He hefted his bow, adjusting it. “Under those circumstances, I’m less than concerned about being able to hit the very center of the bull’s-eye.”
He kept walking and moved past Tony, who watched him, nonplussed.
From further ahead Sif called back, “The Bifrost should not be opened too close within the confines of civilization. It’s against the commands governing its uses. Should something go wrong, the surging energies could cause damage to what’s directly around it.”
Tony gesticulated at her. “See, you people should open with that disclaimer. It’d save an immense amount of time.”
At the point of the formation Hogun suddenly came to a halt, raising one fist. The others immediately fell silent and stopped (Tony maybe a fraction of a second behind the others).
“There’s something up ahead,” the warrior observed out loud. “A village of some sort, or possibly larger.”
Tony slipped his faceplate back into place. “Well, let’s see…”
With telescopic lenses he zoomed in far ahead of what even the keenest naked eye could see. In the digital overlay scanners hit dozens of pinpoints to get a read on building construction and body heat, running calculations and sending back estimates on age of the settlement and population density.
“Definitely more of a town,” he concluded. “Maybe even a city, if you’re going by medieval standards.”
“Could be a capitol or a military stronghold,” Hawkeye chimed in. He’d taken point and was staring off into the distance with that strangely glassy look in his eyes that meant he was using his own not-quite-a-superpower. “I’m seeing a lot of towers, soldiers, armaments. But what looks like a thriving marketplace as well.” He glanced at Thor. “Think it’s our destination?”
“This seems most likely. Can you tell me anything about the inhabitants?”
“They look like they belong on Middle Earth,” was Tony’s helpful contribution.
“Or in the middle of a Dungeon and Dragons session,” Clint added, far from disagreeing with him. “In fact if I didn’t know any better I think I spotted a few Drow.”
“Drow?” Thor’s eyes lit up in understanding. “That is one of your terms for Dark Elves, yes? Then we are on Svartalfheim!”
As Sif and the two other Asgardian warriors exchanged dirty glances (apparently ‘Svartalfheim’ wasn’t the hotspot place to be) Tony made a note: “Later on, we are definitely having a conversation about how exactly it is you know that. Because I’d like to know who in the world’s been feeding you notes on D&D.”
“Loki,” Steve and Clint both said in perfect, toneless unison. Thor only gave Tony a wounded, slightly confused look.
The best thing Tony could come up to respond with, after a beat, was, “It belatedly occurs to me that I have no normal friends.”
Understatement of likely several millennium, but that’s what happened when you caught him flatfooted.
They kept walking and as they got closer and closer to what was revealing itself to be an in fact very large city surrounded by a high stone wall, the group began formulating a plan out loud.
“Svartalfheim is not the friendliest of most realms, but neither is it the most hostile,” Thor observed. “Now that we better understand the lay of the land, I think it’s time we split up.”
“Why?” Fandral questioned. “If this is where Heimdall sent us, then it can only mean Loki must be close.”
“True. But we do not know for sure he’s taken refuge in the city, and we should not assume thus. A city of this size has several surrounding villages - my brother could be in one of those.” He pointed. “Fandral, I want you to stay with me, and you as well, Tony Stark. The far-sight granted you by your armor will greatly aid us in searching these many buildings. The rest of you should comb the nearby countryside.”
Sif tilted her head, a courteous smile on her face while she looked to Captain America, even as her eyes flashed challengingly. “Who is in charge, you or me?” she inquired.
Steve grinned mildly in response. “I think it only makes sense in these circumstances to yield position of authority to the one more familiar with the terrain.” He raised both hands, bowing. “After you, ma’am - er, milady.”
The look of disapproval that’d briefly appeared on Sif’s face vanished in an instant, either appeased or simply charmed away by Steve’s socially inept fumbling.
Hogun and Clint exchanged a wordless glance and a nod. “We’ll meet you back here at what, sundown?” the archer asked Thor.
“It seems a goodly enough plan.” He raised an arm in farewell as the two designated groups pulled apart. “Stay safe, my friends.”
Tony wasn’t sure exactly what he himself expected to see once they passed through the stone barricade and were inside the city proper. A group of thugs in chainmail armed with bludgeons demanding to see their papers? Chariots, processions, knights in armor? Peasants in rags and a wandering playing strolling by with a lute?
For the most part it was like any city back home. People walking along laughing with their friends, hustling on errands or begging for change. Sure, the clothes were radically different, there were no iPods or cellphones, and a few of the ‘normal citizens’ had pointy ears or funny-colored skin…but other than that, it was like any other day.
His suit didn’t even draw much attention beside overtly curious sidelong glances. Maybe it was assumed to be a particularly fancy coat of armor.
“So, this is exciting,” he had to remark brightly, after about half a block and several minutes. “May I ask just what exactly the plan is?”
“Plan! Why, what sort of adventurer are you, my friend?” Fandral laughed. “Everyone knows the most excitement comes when you work without.”
“Uh huh,” clearing his throat, he refocused his attentions on Thor. “So how ‘bout it, Homeward Bound? Any concrete ideas what we’re doing here?”
“While sir Fandral’s enthusiasm may be a bit…misplaced,” Thor glanced sidelong at his pal, “for the most, he has the essence of it. If there is one thing Loki is unquestioningly good at, it is survival - adaptation. He’s been in this realm for many weeks. No doubt he’s made himself some niche.”
“Yeah. The question is, is he keeping his head low - or doing the other thing?” He had witnessed firsthand the many rainbow flavors across the spectrum of Loki’s personality. On a bad day, he could make a bipolar off his meds look monotonous.
“There’s only one way to find out,” Thor responded. “By looking.”
So they did. For the better part of three hours. They were in some part of the planet Fandral and Thor seemed to have some familiarity with - or at least, they were quick about finding all the taverns and shady neighborhoods where lowlifes and information were most likely to hide.
But no one they asked could turn them onto a man of Loki’s description. It seemed in these parts he was unheard of and unseen.
Tony contributed to the search at its most basic level, by scanning busy streets and overhead crowded areas. But nothing came up on his facial recognition program.
“Perhaps the others will have some better luck,” Fandral offered. If he sounded putout, it was only because he was - no less than four times had Thor had to grab hold of him physically when his eyes and attentions wandered off onto some ‘fair maid’. Or ‘fair lass’. Or anything vaguely shaped female.
(Tony was definitely telling Pepper about that when he got home. To think she thought he had problems.)
Thor was frowning deeply, too anxious about his brother to notice his friend’s attitude. “If only Heimdall had been able to tell us anything at all,” he complained. “I’ve no doubt he put us near to Loki, but there are too many places here he could hide.”
“Almost a shame he got that whole megalomania thing out of his system early. If he’d conquered or ravaged the place, that’d make him easy to find.”
Thor drew a breath and ground his teeth. “I will search this entire realm if I must,” he swore. “Leave no space unturned, question every soul, until I find my brother and bring him home!”
“I’ve heard this speech before,” Tony mused - but this time he kept it to himself, not letting it carry out via the speakers.
He turned his head. They were on a smaller cobbled road near the middle of town, in an area that was slightly rundown but far from desolate. The street rolled at a funny angle and every now and then there was a clattering sound from a horse-drawn cart that passed by. Women walked past with baskets on their heads or under their arms, and the air echoed with the faint sounds of voices coming from every direction.
One corner was nosier than most, and he recognized the open door and flurry of activity in the darkness that led to a lively bar.
“Let’s have us a drink,” Tony suggested, hydraulics whirring as he already walked in that direction. He figured a short and well-earned break couldn’t do them any harm.
Thor and Fandral followed him, the latter with a noise of cheery agreement.
“I am hardly in the mood,” Thor protested, growling. “And we’ve no time to waste with these distractions!”
“Sure we do,” Tony said without pause. “This’ll only take a minute. I swear. Come on, it’ll help you clear your head. One quick nip while I buy a round for the house.” Then he did pause, remembering.
“Uh, one of you guys can cover me on this, right? You know I’m good for it. I just left my wallet in my other pants. Plus, I’m assuming they don’t take plastic here. Just guessing.”
“Perhaps we should seek another venue.” Thor had stopped walking and was staring, musing and slightly dumbfounded, at a fresh poster tacked up just above the door.
Tony turned around and tilted his neck. He couldn’t translate the writing (seriously, why runes?) but from the image the message was damn near unmistakable. A half-naked woman was pictured in mostly profile, body twisting in a suggestive pose as she gazed out at the viewer with a come-hither look. From the outfit he gathered she was supposed to be whatever in these parts passed for a stripper.
“Live entertainment?” he observed.
“Dancing girls!” Fandral clapped Thor on the shoulder with a broad grin, chortling. “Good thinking, old friend! We’ll send you off to your inevitable marital fate right.”
“Not surprising Asgard already knows of something like a bachelor party.”
Thor shook his head, impatient, mind evidently on matters less carnal. He pointed. “That blue skin, those markings - that appearance is expected for the Frost Giants of Jotunheim,” he explained for Tony’s benefit.
Fandral made a sound heavy with disbelief. “You think that woman is supposed to be a Jotun? Everyone knows their twisted race boasts no females!”
Thor’s mouth pressed into a line. Silent, out of Fandral’s line of sight, he turned his head to look meaningfully in Tony’s direction.
The pieces clicked together in Tony’s head. He lifted his faceplate so he could meet Thor’s eyes, and give him the raised eyebrows.
Loki was secretly a Frost Giant. Loki also had the habit of turning into a chick on occasion. And Loki did have the tendency to turn up in the strangest places. Ergo…
“You have got to be kidding me,” he muttered, shaking his head the best he could whilst in the confines of the helmet.
Fandral finally turned around and noticed the looks his companions were exchanging. His brow puckered in confusion. “What?”
Thor’s mouth parted as if to speak, then he hesitated as he looked to Fandral and back at Tony again. His face was conflicted, almost distraught as he tried in vain to think of a good explanation. How to offer it seemed logical Loki might be the she-giant dancer without letting the cat out of the bag?
Tony cleared his throat. “You know,” he began, feigning a tone of distracted contemplation, “I realize this might sound crazy, but. Hear me out. That might just be Loki.” He ticked off the points: “We know he can shape-shift. He’s certainly been a girl before. And with his inherent love of…weirdness, maybe he decided to pose as the one female member of a species that isn’t supposed to have them, just for the attention.”
The expression Thor shot him was practically melting off his face in gratitude.
“But, a Frost Giant,” Fandral stammered, incredulous. “Loki hates them. Even more than the usual. Did you never hear he once tried to destroy their world in an effort to - cleanse them from the galaxy?”
“I did,” Tony said…and now that he really thought about that story, wow. There were so many issues on display right there at the surface. “But who knows. It wouldn’t be the first time Loki’s found a way to twist love and hate all around.”
To his credit, he resisted looking directly at Thor.
He finished up, with a shrug, “It couldn’t hurt to check, right?”
“I suppose not,” Thor said in a forcibly even tone. “It’s not as if we have any other clues.”
Fandral’s doubt was still palpable, but he seemed content to follow his appointed leader. “At least we can take in the show, while we’re there.”
The place hosting the dancing girls was actually a fairly nice venue, located not too far from where they were. After a few coins exchanged hands the three were led discretely down a hall, through a velvet curtain into a room that opened up into a wider space than had been anticipated.
The lights were low. They managed to slide in unobtrusively near the door. The room was full of men sitting at small tables, drinking and having a good time. There was a wooden stage along one side of the room, and unseen musicians played a sensuous tune with pipes and a horn, low and sweet. Onstage in a candlelit spotlight a thin blonde with long ears and upturned eyes wiggled back and forth.
Tony kept his helmet up. “I would like it to go on record that I am here because you asked me to be,” he stated, offhand yet precise.
The music stopped and the blonde skipped off to a staccato of whistles and applause. In an unlit corner near the stage a fat man stood up, grin visible even in the gloom as he bellowed his words.
“Gentlemen!” He spread his arms wide, head turning. “And now for what I know many of you came here to see! The headline of tonight’s entertainment presented for your supreme pleasure; the crowning sensual sapphire of Nezzori’s Dancing Darlings; lovely to look upon and talented to behold, you’ll never see her like on this realm or any other - the one, the only, Throkk!”
More than half the room went nuts, showing far more enthusiasm for an act that hadn’t even started than the one they’d just finished watching. There was an outpouring of shouts, catcalls, whistles and cheers.
The music started up again and this time it wasn’t just pipes and horns. There was the twang of something like a sitar or a dulcimer - one of those funny little stringed instruments Tony could never get right. And there were drums. Pounding steady, low, the pre-electric alternative to turning up the bass.
And onto the stage strutted the dancer that had been named as Throkk, hips swaying in time to the beat.
A small piece of Tony’s mind was aware that if this really did turn out to be Loki, it was going to be kind of awkward.
Baring the occasional misplaced whistle the crowd went silent. Every eye in the place was on the dancer, her toned and lean body beneath the candlelight, dappled shadows flickering against dark blue skin that seemed almost reptilian, broken up by patterns that looked like raised tattoos. Her hair was black, kept off her face by a long braid. And her eyes were a burning crimson red.
Tony didn’t have to look to know Thor was searching her face, trying to see if he could find any recognition there. For his part, Tony wasn’t sure. Throkk’s features were pointed and angular enough, but the blue skin was something of a distraction. Likewise the breasts and hips.
Briefly he pulled his helmet back on and scanned her face, mapping for digital comparison. The suit’s programming accepted the variables and started running the numbers.
It came up with a shiny 97 percent probability match.
“Hey, Thor,” Tony started, taking the helmet off again. But at that very moment the performer started spicing up the routine.
She’d mostly been turning around on stage, waving her arms and undulating a bit. Now she swiftly bent over backwards, struck the floor with her palm - and was lifted back again as she clung to a bar that rose straight up made out of ice.
“Oh, that’s gotta be Loki.” The stripper pole clinched it - who else could’ve come up with that without having paid a few visits to Earth?
But Fandral and Thor didn’t seem to have heard his decisive mutter.
The audience voiced their hearty approval as the dancer moved closer to the pole, sliding down with her back against it, caressing the object suggestively with both hands. She turned and repeated the motion with her front side, arching her upper body and throwing in a head toss for good measure.
Then, in perfect time with the siren call of the music, she hooked one knee around the pole and bent way, way back, hanging off supported by nothing but a single limb. It wasn’t just erotic; it was damned athletically impressive. Tony would know: he’d been asked to guest judge at the International Pole-Dancing Championships a few times.
Loki (yeah; he was going to have to keep reminding himself this was Loki, otherwise it was going to lead to a place really bad) leaned forward and grabbed on with one hand for balance, and then without pause went into a very fast controlled spin, body sliding outwards until the only thing keeping attached to the pole were curled fingers and the curve of one ankle.
“Good lord,” Fandral whispered in what was decidedly aroused awe, eyes wide.
He wasn’t the only one. The seated men were hooting and screaming as Loki dropped gracefully off the pole to lie on the ground, head at almost a lazy angle as the body rolled slowly side to side.
“Nice floorwork,” Tony observed with a note of professional commentary.
Fandral’s eyes slid over to him. “You mean to say…is it actually common for one to be able to watch this sort of performance on Midgard?” His voice warbled.
“Oh yeah, sure. Not always of this caliber, but it’s all over the place.”
“Ah.” He paused. “Do…do you suppose, that the next time I stop by-?”
“My friends.” Thor turned around abruptly, and Fandral immediately clammed up. The prince met both their gazes entreatingly. “My eyes cannot be certain, but in my heart I have a strong feeling that this is my brother.”
Tony couldn’t help finding it a bit bemusing that as he was saying this, ‘his brother’ was in the background gyrating for tips and Thor seemed completely unbothered. Either the big guy was an excellent compartmentalizer or their home family life was even more bizarre than Tony was already aware of.
Well, they could talk about that later. If ever. Probably not. Probably never, in fact. “It isn’t just your gut,” he reassured Thor. “Facial analysis says it’s likelier than not that this is our…uh, guy.”
Thor’s face lit up. “Excellent. We should go and find someplace to wait until we can talk to him after.”
Fandral protested slowly, “What, we’re not going to stay and watch the rest?”
“Yeah,” Tony had to agree, “it seems like kind of a shame. I mean, he’s really working it out there.”
With what at first glance could’ve been called an oblivious grin on his face Thor placed one big hand on each of their shoulders and steered them towards the door, not forceful but with more than enough strength to broker absolutely no room for argument.
“Come along,” he stated with a staunch kind of cheer, seemingly not having heard a word they said.
On second thought maybe he had more awareness than Tony gave him credit for.
*
Back on Asgard, Darcy was trying to mentally prepare herself for another day babysitting what she had come to think of as Jane’s vapid, slutty evil twin.
It was pretty sad, really. She missed the real version of her friend, and felt terrible whatever had happened to her was making her act this way. And frankly, if for no other reason, she should probably stay close just to make sure Jane didn’t say or do anything she would regret later.
But none of that canceled out how it was brain-numbingly aggravating right now being in the same room as her.
She was acting like an amalgamation of the bitchy popular girls and sorority sisters Darcy had absolutely hated throughout high school and college. And here she’d thought the tradeoff for her life being tangled up in supervillains and space aliens was that she’d never have to deal with people like that ever again. If she had to resist the urge to roll her eyes much harder she was going to do serious damage to her retinas.
Not to mention as-is Jane wasn’t exactly being nice to Darcy, or even really seemed to want her around, so Darcy had to keep making up tenuous excuses for being there.
All in all, she really hoped Thor and the others found Loki and got back to Asgard soon.
Taking a deep breath and doing her best to remember what she’d read on the internet once about protecting her “inner calm”, Darcy plastered a smile on her face and walked into the room.
“Hey,” she greeted overly cheerily, using her best ‘girlfriend’ voice, “what’s up? Missed you at breakfast, so I brought you a bowl of fruit, in case you could use a snack-”
She stopped in her tracks the moment she took in the scene in the room.
Jane was seated in a plush high-backed chair at the center of the room, one leg crossed over the other, wearing a slinky shimmering dress that was slit all the way up her thighs. There was a small army of Asgardian men paying audience to her.
Two of them were fanning her. Another was massaging her shoulders. On either side of her one filed her nails while another fed her peeled grapes. And a final one was kneeling on the ground in front of her, literally kissing her foot. Also, none of the men happened to be wearing any shirts.
Darcy’s arms went slack and she almost dropped the bowl she was carrying as she gaped openly.
Jane blinked her eyes, tilting her head up to glance in her direction lazily. “Oh,” she said, careless. “That’s very thoughtful of you, thanks.” She pointed to the stud that was on grape duty. “But as you can see, I’ve already got that taken care of.”
“What the hell is going on in here?” Darcy demanded, disbelieving. “Who…are these guys?” She didn’t even recognize any of them, let alone get what they were doing fawning half-naked all over Jane.
Jane looked around at the harem she had collected. “Hmm. I don’t remember most of their names. Not that it’s important,” she concluded with a smirk.
Darcy’s eyebrows went way, way up. “Not important? You’ve got that one guy practically giving you a pedicure with his mouth, and remembering what to call them isn’t important?” She was trying not to sound disgusted and failing. “What are they even here for?”
Jane gave her a look like she was the one who was being silly. “Why, I thought it was obvious.” She straightened in her chair. “They’re here to serve me.” Pulling her hand back she idly examined the job that had been done on her nails. “Treat me with all the respect and adoration I deserve. Surely you can appreciate that?”
Not a single one of the men had spoken. They were all hanging on Jane’s every word, giving her looks that were an equal mixture of come hither and complete subservience.
And yeah, there was a tiny voice inside of Darcy that took in the scene in front of her and went “fuck yeah!” On a certain level it was very emotionally satisfying.
But this was also reality. And in reality, it would’ve been a whole lot cooler if not for two facts: one, the Jane she knew would never do something like this, and two, Jane was supposedly in the midst of celebrating her engagement to Thor.
“What are you doing?” Darcy stormed in closer - one of the guys got up to intersect her, and she shoved the forgotten bowl of fruit at his chest, forcing him to take it. “Have you gone nuts? What are you going to do if somebody sees you?”
Jane gave her a severely unimpressed look. “Why should it matter if someone sees me?”
“Um, because last I checked, you’re not exactly unspoken for?”
Speaking of people who were already attached, at that moment Volstagg came into the room bearing a huge platter of sliced meats and cheeses. He walked past Darcy like he didn’t see her, before she could even say anything, and presented the tray to Jane like it was an offering with a witless smile on his face.
“Some sustenance for your approval, milady,” he breathed adoringly. “May it be somehow worthy of both your beauty and favor.”
“Whoa, wait. What?” Darcy exclaimed. “Volstagg, what are you even…why are you doing this?”
Volstagg looked at her blankly, confused. “Is there some reason that I should not? Why shouldn’t I be lavishing praise and whatever offerings I can bring upon such a vision of nigh-holy feminine perfection?”
In silence Darcy took in the tableau. The others all stared back at her, the men with the same blank animal expression, and Jane with one eyebrow lifted in challenge and irritation. They were looking at her like she was the one who wasn’t making any sense here.
“Okay. Is everyone here very stoned?” Darcy raised her arms halfway, shutting her eyes briefly as she tried to focus. “Seriously, what is going on? Jane; you’re happily engaged to these guys’ prince, remember? So, this Chippendale reunion tour you’ve got here is kind of a no-no. And as for these guys, I can’t help noticing that they’re acting exactly like…”
She trailed off in the realization that the glassy, passive looks in their eyes were indeed incredibly familiar. It was the same way Thor had been acting before she’d gotten him to snap out of it.
The slavish obsession, the mindless doting…Darcy’s heart sank in dread. “Oh no,” she said, slowly. So it wasn’t only Thor? Whatever kind of ‘whammy’ was hanging around Jane was contagious to any man?
When she looked back up she found that a few of the men, including Volstagg, had stood and drifted closer placing themselves protectively between her and Jane. Jane remained seated, the look on her face increasingly sour as she gave Darcy a stare that plainly indicated she resented the intrusion.
Well, she could just deal with it. Whether she realized it or not, what Darcy was doing was for her own good.
She gave Jane a defiant look, and then sharply turned to address Volstagg. “Why are you here?”
“Wherever else in all the Nine Realms would I rather be, than here with the one that I adore?” he breathed with full feeling. “Ready to offer myself up in whatever way possible to the fairest, the most goodly, the most divine…”
“Let me stop you right there.” Despite that she knew it wasn’t really his fault, Darcy couldn’t help that her voice was full of disapproval. “Tell me something: does the name Siún ring any bells? No? Just maybe?”
As she pressed her point home Volstagg first looked puzzled, then dismayed.
He blinked dimly and shook his head. With an expression of hearty confusion he glanced to Jane then looked back at where Darcy was waiting with raised eyebrows and a scowl.
He drew up and cleared his throat, halfheartedly trying to save face. “I think I should go now and…find my wife.”
He wandered out, emanating waves of determination and still lingering confusion.
“Yeah,” Darcy remarked as he walked past her, deadpan. “Good call.”
She glanced at the remaining Asgardians but not knowing anything about them she stared at Jane again, challengingly.
Jane met her eyes and with purposeful, stately movements got to her feet and strode over.
“I don’t know exactly who it is you think you are, or what kind of standing you have here,” she murmured, darkly. “But I promise you, you do not want to make an enemy of me.”
“I don’t want to be your enemy,” Darcy agreed, keeping eye contact as she shook her head. “But enough is enough. And if I don’t do something you’re going to screw things up royally.”
Jane gave a dark chuckle and a sneer.
“Believe me, you have no idea what you’re talking about. The only one who’s on the verge of ruining it all, everything that I’ve worked for, is you.”
She reached out to grab Darcy’s forearm in one tight, long-nailed fist. Instinctively Darcy flinched back out of reach.
But not before she caught sight of a few dancing green sparks, like static electricity, that jumped from Jane’s skin towards hers.
That little moment was like being hit over the head by a two-by-four.
Darcy stared. “Did…did you just try to use magic on me?” she demanded, feeling herself grow pale and cold with surprise.
Jane pulled her hand back but it was too late. Darcy had seen the way the energy came out and then was called back to her, having witnessed Loki do something similar many a time.
That wasn’t what an enchantment already in effect looked like. That only happened when someone was actively casting a spell.
“Oh my god.” Darcy took a step backward.
“Darcy…” Jane held a hand out to her, voice trying to sound soothing. But it was undermined by the hungry look, a mixture of angry and frightened, in her eyes.
“No. Jane doesn’t know how to use magic.” The bottom dropped out of her stomach and she felt horrifyingly sick. “And there’s no way she just learned, either. You’re…you’re not Jane. You’re somebody else!”
An imposter. All this time she’d been trying to take care of her friend, worrying over what had gone wrong with her, when in fact she’d been replaced.
Fake Jane hissed and made another grab for her, more violently this time. Darcy just barely slipped away from her grasp, and turning around gave into her panic and bolted.
She ran out of the room, into the hallway and with the barest glance around to determine there were no possible allies in sight, picked a direction at random and kept on going.
Behind her she heard the sound of the doors being thrown open and didn’t have to look back to know she was being followed.
“Wait! My dear friend, come back here and I can explain!” At first the fake called after her plaintively. But within seconds she dropped the charade when it was clear that wasn’t going to work. “Curse you, you little wretch,” she snarled. “When I get my hands on you…!”
Darcy kept running, unable to stop and catch her breath. Her mind and heart were racing with things she had no time to process.
Later, when it caught up with her, it was not going to be a good time. She felt like such an idiot. But more than that, she felt raw and violated for having been so taken advantage of.
For days on end she had been at a loss over what was making Jane act so weird, so unlike herself. Well, the answer had been in front of her all along: Jane was not herself. She was somebody else. Someone who’d stolen her place, wormed her way in and taken Jane’s face and loved ones and life for their own. And the whole time Darcy had been right there, had sat next to her and talked to her and shared things, intimate things, or at least she had tried.
And it was impossible to tell what was worse. How much of a failure it made her, for not being able to tell the obvious, for not having a clue it wasn’t her own friend. Or how deeply it stung, knowing a stranger had wormed past her defenses and into her confidence with such a nasty trick.
If she really let her brain settle into thinking about it she’d be sick. She’d lose focus and wouldn’t be able to run anymore, and right now that couldn’t happen.
If the Fake Jane, whoever she really was, caught up to her, then that would be the end of it. She’d hypnotize Darcy into playing along, or do something worse and get rid of her altogether.
Oh god, Darcy suddenly thought: where was the real Jane? Where had she been all this time, while this fake was wearing her clothes and kissing her fiancé and pretending to be her? Was she even still alive, or-?
No, Darcy told herself firmly with frightened tears in her eyes. Don’t even think about that.
She’d worry about figuring out what happened to Jane later. Right now she just had to get away.
Through one corridor and down another she went, stone walls and pillars and tapestries whipping by out of sight, barely noticed. Why was it Asgard was so full of people when you wanted to be alone but so empty when you needed rescuing?
There was a flash of movement up ahead as someone stepped out of a doorway. Lungs aching, Darcy marshaled up her last reserves of strength and flung herself that direction fast as her legs would carry her.
“Help!” she gasped. “Please! You have to hide me! I need help getting away from-!”
What was left of her ragged voice died in her throat as she caught silver flashes of plate armor and a long pale braid and realized she was looking at Freya.
The Shieldmaid stood her ground and watched Darcy with an aloof gaze as the mortal woman reached where she was, steps stumbling and unsteady as she almost fell right over.
“You,” Darcy panted, far from thrilled. But beggars couldn’t exactly be choosers. She struggled to speak, chest heaving as she caught her breath. “Can you…help? I think I’m still being followed…”
Freya’s cold eyes were steady and she looked at Darcy with disapproval. “I don’t particularly see why I should.”
Darcy glanced up at her, wide-eyed, then stole a look over her own shoulder in panic. No sign of Fake Jane or her flunkies. But did she maybe hear voices in the distance?
“Lady, what is your problem?” she demanded of Freya, exasperated and desperate, sweat beading on her face. “Is this still about Loki? I’m in trouble, right in front of you and asking for help, and you won’t do it because your sister-in-law hates him?”
Then her eyes refocused on Freya with new suspicion as she thought about the timing. Because how many bad and unconnected things could happen at once?
“Or is this because it has something to do with her?”
Freya shifted her weight, face remaining emotionless as she drew her chin up. It hit Darcy insistently that it was somehow a tell.
“It all comes back to Nanna somehow, doesn’t it? Nanna and her ancient grudge,” Darcy exclaimed. “What did she do to Jane?”
“Lady Nanna never laid a hand on her,” Freya muttered.
“But she’s connected, isn’t she? Somehow she made this happen.” Darcy’s thoughts raced as she tried to figure it out: “What was the plan - get Loki out of the way so he’d be powerless to stop you from ruining his brother’s marriage? Get revenge on the throne by embarrassing them? How petty can you get.”
“Bite your tongue,” Freya snapped out. There was a flash of color, sharp red on the highest part of her pale cheeks, that made Darcy think she’d struck close to home. “There is nothing petty about this. About what happened to Nanna because of Loki. About what was done to our family.”
“No. You’re right, it wasn’t. That was wrong, all of it.” Darcy set her jaw. “But what you’re doing is just as bad. Using tricks and lies to get back at people. It’s nothing more than the worst possible kind of revenge.”
From what she’d experienced with Asgardians, Darcy expected Freya not to listen to a word she was saying. To be condescending and dismissive and angry at best. After all, she was a goddess, and Darcy was only a young and silly human. How could her words carry any weight?
But Freya didn’t respond to her at first. There was rigidness in her posture, a discomfited bend about the line of her mouth.
“And you know I’m right, don’t you,” Darcy realized, peering at her. “I can see it in your face.”
Freya huffed and actually shifted, turning her head as if wary of meeting Darcy’s eyes.
“You’re like some kind of lady knight, right. You stand for things like truth and honor and the good of all people,” Darcy pressed. “You’re supposed to be better than this. And I’m betting it wasn’t your idea.”
“No. It wasn’t,” Freya bit out, shortly. “But that makes no difference. Ultimately it has nothing to do with me. This is my lady’s will.” Her voice was grave, gaze wandering and unfocused as she tried to reassure herself. “I follow her command. That is my duty. That is where my honor resides.”
“‘Just following orders’? That’s your excuse?” Darcy scoffed. “That hasn’t held up since the beginning of time, and much as you try to convince yourself you know it isn’t good enough. What about your family? What about the king of Asgard - aren’t you supposed to be loyal to him, too? And do you think your nephew and brother would be okay with you blindly going along with this; that they’d say you were only doing what you had to do?”
She was certain these were all questions that on some level Freya had already been asking herself. The whole time they’d been on Asgard, while Nanna was bitter and hostile and throwing her weight around, Freya had held back, silent as a ghost. Maybe her only job was to be loyal and subservient and help Nanna get what she wanted, but this couldn’t be sitting well with her. Not if she was half the person Thor and Sif and everyone else had painted her as.
There was definitely the sound of voices behind her, this time - Darcy looked back and thought she saw a shadow moving. From far off against the marble floors the echoing tread of footsteps came.
She stared at Freya again. “Look,” she said, hurried, “no matter what’s happened, you still have a chance to make it right. It’s not too late. And you can start by helping me out here,” she pleaded. “Protect me from these guys. Please!”
Freya drew a breath and didn’t say anything. Stonily she looked at Darcy, considering.
“You have a chance to still be honorable,” Darcy insisted, hoping she wasn’t pressing her luck. “You should take it, before things get too far and there’s no coming back.”
Another few seconds ticked by as Freya kept thinking. Inside Darcy wanted to scream.
At last, slowly, the Shieldmaid nodded.
“Quickly.” She looked past Darcy, checking to see how close the searchers were. “This way. Come with me.”
Darcy breathed a wordless deep sigh of relief, letting Freya take her by the arm and lead her to safety through a hidden doorway.
She shouldn’t let herself get too carried away, she knew. It was only one small victory after a long line of bad events. But it was a victory, nonetheless. And it sparked some hope in her that maybe the tide was turning.
*
While he never let himself forget what his real goals were, that his ‘success’ with the traveling troupe was only a means to an end, the longer his double life went on the more and more Loki threw himself into his performances.
By the end of the night he was quite tired, muscles aching, sleep only just hovering out of reach, ready to steal over him at a moment’s notice.
Back in his tent, he changed into a long dressing gown and with heavy-lidded eyes began working his hair free from a deceptively complicated braid.
He was glad he’d talked Balder into taking an evening off. Reassuring though the presence of his appointed security could be, right now he only wanted to be alone.
Ever since it had become clear their true relation, they had become more open and honest with one another. Balder had more questions than ever he did before and Loki had even more stories to tell. They had come to truly know one another, in a way they clearly never had when they were young.
And while Loki would’ve scarcely believed it for how he remembered despising the other, he found he had become quite…fond of his cousin. That perhaps they could even be considered friends.
Oh, they had little enough in common, despite both possessing a sense of humor and ultimately good intentions. Loki’s sharp tongue and twisted mind stood in counterpoint to Balder’s unfailing honesty and straightforward ways. And yet, they never quarreled, but only sighed and maybe smiled in amusement, accepting the ‘failings’ of the other. Balder was too kind, Loki too impatient, to pick an argument over their vast differences in opinion.
And while it was…nice, Loki couldn’t shake a sense of bewilderment at it all. Balder had been Asgard’s shining star, he it’s unruly shadow. They weren’t supposed to like one another. Their own mythology had as good as branded them mortal enemies.
And even if Balder tolerated Loki, by nature of being Balder, he certainly wasn’t supposed to turn his saintly chivalrous nature Loki’s way and act as his protector. But he had. He’d become aware of Loki as a being with pain, and seemed to want nothing more than to do what he could to soothe it.
Loki regretted having let Balder see so much of his scars - it was more than he’d ever given away of himself to another person, at least all at once. It seemed to have irreparably marked him in Balder’s mind as, if not fragile, then tragic and sympathetic.
But Loki did not want to be sympathized with, and often he rankled under Balder’s well-intentioned hovering.
A little distance was all that was needed to repair the damage, though, whenever he found he was getting sick to death of his cousin. And so impossibly, unfathomably, they continued on.
That night though Loki momentarily regretted not keeping Balder around to ensure his privacy, when he was pulled from gazing unfocused into his vanity mirror by another one of the dancers bursting in.
The girl that threw aside the tent flap was a blond elf with some boring common name Loki couldn’t recall, like Elsie or Bessie, but that preferred to be called “Swan” onstage because she danced with a pair of white-feathered fans.
“Throkk,” she hissed at Loki, “you’ve got some new admirers. Three men that want to see you personally. They’re being very insistent. They must want you real bad.”
Loki groaned, annoyed. “Don’t let them come back here,” he instructed her peevishly. It wasn’t the first time this had happened; he was hardly in the mood. Men who came looking for the girls after the show were good for nothing but undesired fawning and wooing - or hoped that for the right coin a favorite dancer could be persuaded to ‘entertain’ in other ways.
Swan put hands on her bony hips, sucking the inside of her cheek. “I think they’re Asgardian,” she commented with a note of wonder. “One of them even looks like the prince.”
Loki’s fingers went momentarily numb and the hairbrush almost slipped from his grasp.
Could it be? He turned around sharply. “I’ll see them,” he ordered. “Send them back.”
He stood waiting at the center of the tent, having half-prepared himself for disappointment, when the three familiar figures entered: his brother, followed by Fandral the Dashing and the Iron Man.
“Thor,” Loki gasped out in unabashed relief and wonder.
“Brother! It is you,” Thor said triumphantly, face splitting in a warm beam.
Mindless of Loki’s appearance - female, Jotun, half-dressed and hair in a tangle - he approached him with arms spread wide. And Loki was far, far too genuinely happy to retreat into being standoffish. He stepped forward and both accepted and returned the embrace, though he was careful not to let their skin come into direct contact.
Thor gave him a brief, extra tight squeeze before releasing him, as if the weeks they’d been separated had been much longer. “I am so happy we were able to find you!”
When they pulled apart again Loki gazed at him, laughing out his confusion. “How…?”
“It was not easy. And I’m sorry to say, it took us longer to miss you than perhaps it should have. But once we followed your trail Heimdall was able to offer his assistance.”
“But he shouldn’t have been able to.” He paused, swallowing as he prepared himself to give information Thor wouldn’t like hearing revealed. “Thor…the reason I left was because of a promise I made to Lady Nanna. She forced me to go. She wanted me away from Asgard.”
Thor only nodded, grave. “We had already figured out as much for ourselves.”
“It was Sif who thought your one aunt might’ve gotten Heimdall to swear to secrecy,” Tony Stark put in. He was wearing his red and gold armor, but without the helmet, which meant Loki could see the nonchalance on his face when he added, “By the way, great show. Who would’ve thought you could be so, uh, flexible.”
“Or kick nearly so high,” Fandral put in straightforwardly.
Loki’s gaze bounced between the two of them, alarmed, as he’d a belated awful realization. “You…both of you. You saw?”
“Sure did,” Stark said, bright. “And on as long as we’re on the subject: when exactly between all the supervillain-ing did you learn how to do that? Because this begs a few questions. Not to mention interesting mental images.”
“Of all the people that had to have seen this,” Loki ground out, angry and a bit mortified, “why did it have to be you?”
“This is not important.” Thor rested a hand on his shoulder, brief, to get his attention. His expression was searching. “Loki; I admit I do not understand. It may have been our aunt’s doing but how did she persuade you into leaving in the first place?”
“It was a deal we struck. I asked what I could do to keep her from ruining your engagement; the only thing that would satisfy her was for me to be gone,” he explained hollowly, bitter. He disliked admitting he had been taken advantage of. “She had the Bifrost send me to Jotunheim, though I was able to quickly escape to Svartalfheim, and upon his honor Heimdall was made to swear he would tell no one where I had gone.”
“Jotunheim,” Thor breathed, quiet. His eyes flashed with anger, understanding what had been intended by forcing Loki to return there. But he moved past it and managed to smile. “Well, oath or no, it was lucky for us Heimdall was able to find a way around his promise.”
Struck by memory Loki gave a wry, dark smile he knew none of them would understand. “Oh, yes,” he chuckled, “he’s quite capable in that regard.”
He shook his head, expression changing when he once again looked at Thor and the others.
“But I never thought that you would come looking for me.”
“It’s not just us,” Fandral informed him with a grin. “Sif and Hogun are here, too. As well as some more of Thor’s Avenger companions!”
“Volstagg would have come as well, I’m sure,” Thor added, “but I preferred him to remain at home where I knew he already wished to be - attending to his newborn son.”
“Siún’s given birth already,” Loki gathered, somewhat numbly. It struck a chord of resentment within him that he had been forced to miss it. “Are they doing well?”
“Yes. Both mother and child are healthy, and Volstagg couldn’t be more happy, or proud.” Thor’s expression rapidly soured. “But I am afraid that isn’t all you have missed out on, brother, and it’s the only part of it that is good news. Many bad tidings are afoot on Asgard. We must return home, and quickly.”
“Indeed we must, but…before we do.” Loki almost laughed again, as he thought of Balder. “There’s something you must see. Brother: I have quite the surprise for you.”
*
LINK TO CONCLUSION