Thor Fic: "In the shadows of the crossroads" (Loki, Avengers, R), 3a/10
LINK TO PREVIOUS CHAPTER
Title: In the shadows of the crossroads (Part 3: Double Vision)
Characters: Loki, Thor, Darcy, Jane, Tony Stark, Pepper Potts, Clint Barton, Happy Hogan, Balder, original characters; mention of other Avengers and Erik Selvig
Pairings: Thor/Jane, Tony/Pepper, Loki/Balder
Rating: R for language, violence, dark magic, alcohol use, sex, death, dubious consent (bodyswap), adultery, violence against children, and angst
Length: 16,495 words
Summary: More than twenty years have passed since Loki and Darcy first crossed paths, since whether they knew it or not they began on the path that led to their life together. Things in their world are happy, idyllic. But in another world trouble is resurfacing...and the consequences will be far-reaching and dire.
Notes: See part one for full notes. Also posted at AO3.
Part 3: Double Vision
The sun was shining especially brightly over the hills and fields of Asgard that day, which was only fitting given the occasion. In Breidablik, the beautiful home of Balder the Bright, all was laid out in preparation. It had been cleaned until there was not a speck of dust and everything shone. Tables were spread with clean white sheathes, set with plates and goblets of finest gold and silver. Fresh garlands were threaded through every rafter. The air was marked by the faint scents of flowers and food being prepared for a sumptuous feast.
Truly, it was to be a magnificent wedding.
It was still some hours before the guests were due to arrive. But alone, cloaked in shadows, Loki stole his way in early, a swiftness in his stride.
He kept his head down, willing himself to remain unseen by the servants as he crept his way through the rooms of Breidablik, until at last he found the one he was looking for.
The groom waited alone in his room. He stood gazing thoughtfully out the window and towards the horizon, deep in some unknown contemplation, his features schooled in a mixture of seriousness and calm that made him look all the more like a poetic allusion. The sun was warm on his shoulders, casting a pale brilliance over his figure and catching in the soft strands of his hair. His tunic, his cape, and his sash were all brand-new, commissioned for the occasion, made of light-colored fabrics as fresh as a daisy and decorated by fine turns of elaborate embroidery.
He had never looked any more beautiful. And Loki despised him for it.
“Good morrow, cousin,” he greeted with flat cordiality, dropping the magics that kept him unseen.
Balder turned at the sound of his voice, starting, eyes wide.
“Loki!” He was not so much alarmed as very much surprised. “How did-? What are you doing here?”
Loki shrugged, taking a few measured steps closer. “Why, is it not obvious? I came to pay my respects to you, on this your happiest of days.”
The words were right but the tone was wrong, emotionless and clipped. Balder of course did not appear to notice.
Loki had his arms folded behind his back - concealing that while his left hand gripped his right elbow, his right hand was wrapped tightly around a small dagger with a long and pointed blade.
The dagger was made of wood. Loki had carved it himself, from mistletoe.
My gift to you, Balder, he had thought all the while, looking down at it with grim fury, on your wedding day.
Out loud Loki continued, “You look very well. Finely dressed, the very picture of a young lord and a fortunate man. How fitting an image you present of life and new beginnings, as you mark this joyous occasion, and start your journey as one of the elite granted with wedded bliss-”
As he spoke Balder’s expression had been subtly growing more and more agitated, until at last he broke in with a plea, “Stop! No more I beg of you.”
The muscles in his face strained as if with some mental torment, he caught his breath before looking to Loki with wounded but certain eyes.
“Cousin, there will be no wedding. I’m calling it off.”
Loki had fallen into astonished silence at Balder’s initial outburst, and with this revelation it took him another moment still to regain his voice. “What?”
“It is unfitting, I know. I waited far too long. Lady Nanna will be most displeased, not to mention her family, and mine.” Balder tugged at his neck, prying loose a golden necklace as if it had been choking him. He gazed down at the ornament in one hand with a solemn, quiet look. “But it is unthinkable that I should go through with this. I cannot bear it.”
Loki’s muscles had tightened further in his shock, the arms behind his back now wire-tense and holding their same position perfectly straight. But the dagger had gone slightly limp in his grasp, no longer held at the ready to stab.
“I don’t understand,” he admitted, swaying slightly closer but otherwise not daring to move. “This match was perfectly arranged. It was celebrated. Certainly,” and here a touch of bitterness stole its way into his voice once more, “everyone has been speaking highly of it for months.”
It had at length proved more than Loki could bear listening to. As hot as the anger in his heart burned for Balder - tormenting him in minor ways and sneering at him from afar did not turn out to be enough for him. After all these centuries of watching, waiting, enduring, he realized he could take no more. And so he had chosen to strike the final blow.
“I know.” Balder nodded, oblivious to Loki’s secret thoughts. “Nanna is a well-bred woman. Her family is connected, and she is rich in dowry. She possesses good manners, and is learned in all the womanly arts, and has a singular delicacy and grace. And there is no fault to be found with her appearance, either. Her hair, her skin, her eyes…no, all parts of her are more than passing fair.”
Loki’s smile held a twist and his eyes were bright with how inwardly he seethed as he listened to this recitation of the lovely Nanna’s recommending attributes.
“What, then?” he asked Balder, coolly mocking. “Do you hold out for something better? Is the Lady Nanna not even yet worthy of Balder the Bright?”
Balder’s face colored in mortification at the very idea. “No,” he protested, aghast. “That isn’t it at all!”
“I confess then that I fail to see your dilemma that forces you to break from your engagement. I know it cannot be that your fiancée does not love you. After all - doesn’t everyone?”
Loki smiled again, unpleasantly, and cocked his head aside as he said it. His tone was once more mocking, and no doubt Balder would think the jibe at his expense. Through the years Loki had belittled him for his nature and his ways often enough.
But oh, if only he knew. It was not Balder that Loki mocked, when he spoke of infatuation. It was Loki himself.
How many centuries had Loki sat in the shadows, watching his fair cousin go about his ways, cursing him for all that he was; all he had seemingly been born to be? Balder was everything that Loki was not - noble and handsome, giving and carefree, and most of all beloved. He was the pinnacle of Asgardian youth. And all this he did without effort, he achieved without ever seeming to try.
Of course secretive, sour, sly, wicked Loki must hate Balder. Must loathe him completely. For as long as anyone could remember Loki had played tricks on Balder, had pelted him with mean words - which of course Balder had met with a forgiving smile. Everyone was certain Loki considered Balder his worst enemy - it was what everyone knew, and yet they were wrong.
For much as he reviled and cursed it, even Loki was helpless against Balder’s charms. His gentle face, his sweet voice and kind words. They had proved to be sullen and shadowy Loki’s undoing. A burning coal was stoked in his chest that try as he might he could not snuff out. Yes, Loki hated Balder - hated him, and loved him helplessly all the while. He adored him with every pathetic, unworthy scrap of the thing he was. He lived in dread of the fact he would do anything for Balder; all he had to do was ask.
But Balder, for all his kindness, never gave more than a glance and a polite smile Loki’s way. He barely knew he even existed.
It was a simple set of facts that had continually made Loki’s existence unbearable. He had nursed his pride, kept his shameful secret hidden, but Balder’s impending nuptials had turned into the last pain that his heart could take. He watched as every day his beloved had come closer to being eternally bound to another, and it had pushed him to the brink on which he now stood.
Destroy the thing that he loved most. Drink deep of his bitterness and self-revulsion, and know that if Balder was placed forever beyond his reach, at least no one else could ever touch him either.
It was madness, near purposeless and destructive. The kind of thing which Loki did best.
But now this unexpected conversation was happening, which had stymied him somewhat. He had never once thought that perhaps Balder did not want to get married. Especially with such an excellent match.
At his words Balder was shaking his head. “Nanna is quite fond of me, I know well. More than once she had made her feelings known to me by a look, or her words.”
Instead of sounding proud of this, or even pleased, he instead seemed strangely rueful.
“Then I definitely don’t know what ails you,” Loki said to him, blunt.
Balder was downright pained. “The problem is that I do not love her.”
There was a long pause during which Loki gazed at him, expressionless. And then he broke it by laughing. It was a wild, harsh laugh - almost a cackle.
“Oh,” he coughed out, “is that all?” Balder stared at him in dismay. “Cousin, I had no idea you were still so naïve! Are we not born to noble duty, destined to marry for a good family name and land rights? Most men marry women they can hardly stand and think nothing of it. Be grateful you’ve found yourself a beauty that fawns over you. If you must have love, then wait for it to form later on down the line.”
“Yes,” Balder said, sadly, “that’s what I tried to tell myself at first, too. That after Nanna and I built a life together, our hearts may well grow as one. Long I’ve tried to resign myself to it. But here I stand, at the final threshold, and I know that I cannot. I can’t promise myself to a marriage with someone I do not love - and know that I never will.”
Loki peered at him with frank curiosity.
“How can you know with such certainty?” he had to ask.
Balder could only meet his eye for an instant, but when he did his gaze burned bright with an inner fire, of some yet unnamed emotion and a strong conviction.
“Because,” he declared, “I am already in love, with another!”
Loki’s eyes widened. He clenched his jaw tight. And to think for all his close watching of Balder, he had no idea. How doubly unexpected this all was.
“Oh,” he managed. “How…fortuitous for you. But then why not simply marry this true love of yours instead?”
Balder dropped his gaze, almost guilty. “They would not be considered suitable,” he admitted. “Indeed, it’s someone that…for a long time I have known I should not love. I have struggled with it. I’ve tried to make my feelings change.” He sighed.
“But feelings are what they will. And I’ve realized, no matter what else others may think, there is no reason I can give to resist.” He lifted his head assuredly and met Loki’s gaze. The other found himself with breath suddenly caught in his throat. “I shouldn’t try to deny this feeling, that fills me with such warmth. I should permit myself to be honest about what it is I truly desire…with all my heart.”
If noble Balder already appeared quite handsome, then Balder in the full-flush of admitting his love was a majestic and breathtaking sight indeed.
He took a step towards Loki, his ardent gaze never faltering all the while. Loki remained where he was, frozen, feeling a shudder go through his whole body as he tried to fathom what was happening.
“I don’t understand,” he said feebly. His shoulders hunched instinctively, defensive, as if trying to ward off the cursed fluttering in his breast. “Who is it that you speak of so…passionately? Who are you in love with, Balder?”
Balder gazed at him, his blue eyes deep and clear, never blinking as he looked to Loki with soft intensity.
“Do you not know?” he demanded. “All this centuries, and have I never betrayed a single sign to you? Can you really not guess?”
Loki’s mind raced without purpose - for once his clever thoughts refused to make the next leap. He couldn’t believe it. He couldn’t allow that of himself. Not until he already knew it was true.
“Say it,” he commanded Balder in a whisper. “Tell me who it is that you love. Who you could long for with such ardor that it pushes you past the point of duty or common sense.”
Balder took another step closer. He still did not look away from Loki, gaze never flickering from where it held his eyes. There was a pause, acutely painful in its bittersweet promise, its intensity. And then Balder opened his mouth.
But nothing came out, except a helpless, strangled gurgle. And a thick trickle of blood, where it suddenly spilled from the corner of his mouth.
Loki gasped, or perhaps he meant to, but there was no sound. He could do nothing but watch as Balder’s body fell heavily to the floor, his fading eyes still fastened on Loki all the way.
His brain was still trying to fit the pieces together, to make sense of what he was looking at, as Loki managed to pull his gaze away from Balder, to the wooden knife that had buried in his heart, to the hand of the one that stood there calmly holding it.
The blade had been buried deep but Balder’s weight had pulled free of it, and now it hung blood-soaked in the air with point still facing the direction of the heart it had pierced. The dagger of mistletoe that Loki himself had carved - that somehow in his distraction had been liberated from his grasp behind his back.
“Sorry,” the murderer said, her face expressionless, her voice stiff. “But I had to interrupt. Couldn’t wait; he was taking forever.”
Taking a sliding step away she added in a mutter, “It isn’t like he was saying anything important, right?”
Loki barely glanced at her. He looked past her, to Balder. Balder’s prone corpse, now. With a wet sound Loki dove to the ground on his knees beside it.
His arms went around in a pathetic attempt to lift Balder up. As if that would do any good now. He made a broken sound, desperate sobbing, still too shocked for tears to form or properly fall.
“No.” At first a broken whisper, his voice rose as it became a frantic plea: “No, no no no!”
It was one thing to fantasize about the man he loved dead. It was one thing, even, to plan it - to fully intend on personally carrying it out.
It was another entirely to watch him killed by a stranger right in front of him. Especially when it seemed as if he might very well have been moments away from divulging-
Loki’s eyes shot up to gaze heatedly at the other being present. His consuming emotion at the moment was still a sense of shell-shocked disbelief. He felt as though the ground had been yanked out from under him.
The woman was indeed a stranger, no one he recognized or had ever seen before. Her skin was near bloodless pale, her clothes torn, her hair dark and wild. She had a feral, sinister face, and eyes cold as anything. She wasn’t Asgardian. She didn’t appear to belong to any race Loki knew. He would’ve almost guessed at her being mortal, but there was something about her, something strange and off and…inhuman.
“Who are you?” Loki demanded of her, still crouching on the ground, holding his dead love near the floor at her feet.
She paced a bit back and forth, a distracted absent sort of motion. The knife remained in her hand. Rivulets of blood had dripped all the way up to her wrist.
She frowned at his question, as if it displeased her. “Does it matter?” she retorted. “Do you really care? What does it concern of you what my name is - far as you know me I’m the one who killed, if I had to guess, the man you seem to have cared quite a bit for.”
Pausing she glanced at the wooden knife she had taken from him, tossing it up and catching it deftly.
“Though it would appear you had a funny way of showing it.”
Loki clenched his teeth. As he drew a breath, bringing strength and focus to him once more, at last emotions past the dulling curtain of shock emerged. Pain, yes, but anger too; a vicious anger surging right on into bloodthirsty rage.
Observing the change that came over his face, the way he glowered at her, the woman blinked calculatingly as she watched him.
“Am I going to get a rise out of you? Are you determined to destroy me? I hope now, at least, you can create something of a worthy challenge,” she scoffed; “I am getting so tired of killing you without you even putting up a decent fight.”
This small speech made not one whit of sense to Loki, but he couldn’t even begin to care. His shoulders were shaking with repressed fury. He ground his teeth together, baring them as he was consumed by fetid hatred.
The sorceress cocked her head at him in an examining manner. The next moment as he shot to his feet and lunged for her she moved out of the way as she took on a wary stance.
But even as the battle had only just begun Selene could see through to when and how she was sure it would be over. And to her resigned disappointment, she already knew it wouldn’t last long.
He was murderously angry, driven by deep wounded emotion, and more than willing to kill. But this Loki was young yet - not principled, not as worldly as he thought himself. Impressive though he seemed he was nothing compared to some of the other versions of himself. He could still be shocked, be overtaken by his sentiments. And he was reeling, raw, having just been shaken to the core.
No, Selene knew; no matter what he thought, he would not be avenging his would-be lover today.
But at least by her hands, the two of them would at last be brought together, united in death.
*
Over the whir of the helicopter’s blades, Jane couldn’t make out what Darcy was saying. But she felt the nudge in her side from her assistant’s elbow, and figured before she even looked that it meant they had arrived at their destination.
Looking up from the book she had been skimming Jane just caught a glimpse of the word ‘Avengers’ written out in electric lights as they closed in on the roof of the tall tower. Though she had visited New York before she still marveled at the sight of the building nestled among that impressive skyline.
Darcy was yelling - something about it “almost being worth their hours’ long flight”. Jane ignored her; not because she was wrong or right but because at the moment she had nothing of her own to say.
The pilot turned his seat to give them a polite but firm warning about hanging on and not trying to move until he had landed and gotten them settled.
They touched down on the helipad built on top of the tower and there were steady reverberations as the machine powered down and the noisy whirring of the blades faded away.
“Finally,” Darcy exclaimed, snapping off her buckled straps and leaping out almost before the pilot could get free and help her.
Jane was a little bit longer, taking her time. She took one last look down at the pages spread open in her lap. It was one of the myth books Erik had recommended to her ages ago.
She glanced across the illustration paired with the story she was on. Bold letters at the top of the page proclaimed “The Death of Balder”. The picture was angry gods in mourning over a warrior stretched out on a bier in repose. Pulling her eyes away Jane abruptly snapped the book shut and stuffed it in her bag.
There was no one there to greet them as they walked across the tarmac - at least, no one human or physically there. But a set of cameras conspicuously monitored their every move, and a set of sensors passed over them before the door automatically unlocked for their entrance.
As they walked down the first hallway inside the building Jane turned to give the SHIELD pilot that had escorted them a polite smile.
“Thanks for bringing us here.”
“Oh, it was no problem, ma’am,” he returned with a smile of his own. “As one of our top researchers, SHIELD is dedicated to helping you out in whatever way we can.”
Bluntly, Darcy said to him, “I think what she meant is that you can go now.”
Jane rolled her eyes and inwardly sighed, not that she was too surprised. Whether it was just posturing to show how ‘independent-minded’ she was or what, Darcy really didn’t like the SHIELD agents. She kind of went out of her way to be as rude to them as possible.
The pilot frowned. Instead of snapping back at her though, he managed to keep his voice relatively even. “As I said, SHIELD remains very interested in Dr. Foster’s work, and by extension her well-being. I can’t just take off until I can verify that you’ve been safely escorted to your destination.”
“In that case, pal, I think I can put you and your bosses at ease.”
A door at the opposite end of the hallway slid open and the source of the new voice strode forward comfortably, followed close by a red-haired woman in business-wear and intimidating heels. Jane recognized Tony Stark at once, and as mixed feelings as she had about other parts of his ‘reputation’, her knowledge of his work as an inventor had her breath coming up short.
Reaching them Stark turned first to the SHIELD man and gave him an amicable if dismissive pat on the shoulder.
“Job well done. We can take it from here.” He redirected his gaze at the two women and clapped his hands. “So. You must be Dr. Jane Foster. And this is the assistant, Miss, uh…?”
“Lewis,” Darcy interjected without hesitation, almost snottily. “Darcy Lewis. You don’t look nearly as tall in person.”
The agent, meanwhile, had responded to the dismissal with a salute and was already leaving. Stark gave a sideways twist of a smile, seeming more amused than insulted.
“I get that a lot,” he said without pause. “The suit adds a couple of inches.”
The redhead spoke over him without reserve, cordially addressing Jane. “It’s a pleasure to have you visiting us, Dr. Foster. While you’re here let us know if there’s anything you need. I’ll make sure to introduce you to JARVIS before I go.”
“Well thank you both for having us,” Jane returned. “Especially since it was technically Thor who extended the invitation, I have a feeling without asking.”
The woman nodded with a faint smile, but let that pass by without comment. “Thor isn’t in, at the moment,” she informed them. “He went out and should probably be back later this evening, though I can’t say for sure.”
“That’s…fine.”
The truth was the longer she went without having to talk to or see Thor again, probably the better. Though Jane hadn’t yet to entirely throw in the towel, her feelings at present were far, far too confused. Bordering even on the painful. So while coming to the tower was, indeed, partially an excuse to see him again…right now she was far more interested in the scientific toys she’d been promised a glimpse at.
“I’m sure there’ll be plenty here to keep me occupied until he gets back.”
“Oh, how untoward of me.” Seeming to realize, Stark belatedly gestured to the woman at his side. They made quite the contrast: he in what could be at best described as dressy casual, while she was wearing an impeccably tailored power suit. “This is Pepper Potts; I’m sure you’ve heard of her.”
Pepper shook both their hands, Darcy lunging forward for hers with a grin.
“Acting CEO of Stark Industries,” the redhead explained for their benefit.
“And also my girlfriend,” Stark added, cheeky. Sliding a hand over her hip he spoke in a stage whisper as he nudged her in the side. “Guess which one keeps her more occupied.”
“Yes, well, all things considered, I’d say both can be equally time-consuming.” She smiled brightly and didn’t glance at him as she spoke, though the subtle barb was obviously aimed his way.
Jane kept her face nearly blank, not sure whether she wanted to laugh or feel mortified, as beside her Darcy snorted.
“Ouch. Okay, yeah: now that that’s outta the way.” Pulling away from Pepper, Stark gestured expansively. “Come on. Ms. Potts has a meeting, hence the intimidating formalwear, but we can see her to the fancy elevators before I start giving you two the tour.”
They were herded back through the doors the other two had first entered from, into a room that was white and mostly empty but otherwise looked like a lobby.
“This used to be my penthouse, but certain parties pointed out to me that having my living quarters on the very top floor was as good as skywriting out ‘Terrorists, aim missile here’. Thank you again for that, Ms. Potts.”
“You’re very welcome.” She had on a smile that was somehow at once humoring and smug. Jane got the feeling it was well-practiced. She didn’t have long to contemplate on it though as Stark turned his attentions back to her.
“Dr. Foster, I just wanted to tell you. Astrophysics has admittedly never really been my thing, but I did flip through some of your papers once we got word you were on your way over. I was most impressed, I think, by your original graduate thesis.”
“Let me guess,” Jane smiled forcibly, having had many versions of this conversation with other academics over the years as she got further and further ‘off-course’; “You think none of my later work lives up to the potential that I seemed to promise.”
“Well, no, I wouldn’t say that.” Stark blinked. “But then that’s probably because I have firsthand knowledge of what you’ve actually accomplished in the form of say, Vikings from beyond the stars.”
Jane had to laugh, more relieved than she would’ve cared to admit.
Darcy was apparently already bored with the conversation because while they’d been talking, she’d been visibly scanning the lobby.
“What’s with all the suits?” She pointed out the security detail. “I thought this was basically an apartment building for superheroes.”
“It sort of is, and you’re right; it’s totally unnecessary.” Stark’s response was completely flippant. “But we’ll get to that later. Now, would you like to go straight to the laboratory floors or would you rather get the full tour? Viewing platform, entertainment suite, master kitchen, full floor indoor Japanese hot springs?”
“Do you actually have a full floor indoor hot spring?” Darcy asked with interest.
“Well-”
“No,” Pepper interrupted, flat.
Undeterred Stark went on, “There’s a chance we may add one with further renovations.”
“No you are not.” Behind them the elevator dinged. She pressed a kiss to Tony’s cheek. “Okay, I really do have to go now. I’ll see you later.”
“Bye!” As Pepper went into the elevator a stocky man in a dark suit stepped off. “Oh, look who it is.” Stark pointed without hesitation. “Ladies, this is our head of security. He’s the one responsible for all the frankly useless guards that are cluttering up my gorgeous state of the art building.”
“Hey, you mock it all you like,” retorted the other man, with the attitude of one who took his work very seriously. He wore a plastic badge proclaiming “H. Hogan” and from the way he and Stark were talking to each other Jane guessed he had been working for the man for a long while. “You’ll be glad they were here when trouble comes.”
In response to this declaration though Stark only made a mocking sound, as he stepped forward and waved his guests onto the elevator. Darcy jumped in and nestled for the best spot, and Jane quickly followed.
“Sure - ‘when the trouble comes’,” the billionaire repeated scathingly. “Uh, have you not noticed what name is plastered all over the side of the building? Because if I was some lowlife looking to make for a good time, this is definitely the first place I’d head. You know, right after I tried to tunnel under the Pentagon, and broke into Fort Knox.”
The security man gazed at his employer stonily. “You realize that you basically just jinxed yourself.”
“Oh, grow up,” Stark called without a hint of irony as the elevator doors slid shut.
*
If Loki intended to go courting danger, it wouldn’t be without a veil of security or two in place.
He’d spent nearly the last twenty-four hours floating somewhere in a state between asleep and awake, putting his mind into a trance and his body in near hibernation as his spirit went a’ roving.
Though he had not been able to discern much more about his attacker, he’d not expected to. But he had confirmed what his earlier senses had already told him.
There was a weak but discernible connection from the energy of his life’s line that spun out into the universe like so much tangled thread. With enough time, and effort, and power, that line could be traced back to where it met other similar threads, from other similar lives - presumably other Lokis, or versions of someone very much like him, out there scattered amongst who knew how many myriad worlds.
But the other threads were fractured. There was a sense as though there’d been a great rending in fate’s tapestry, lights snuffed out that were otherwise indistinguishable among the stars. The energy he sensed from the other threads of existence, these other lives, was in distress; injured, maybe even killed.
Someone was hunting down versions of him, one after the other, and putting them in the ground. There was no telling whether or not they might be headed his way next.
But, as forewarned was forearmed, he planned to find out.
Once his move had been decided, next he had to choose where to make his stand. What he hoped to achieve was dangerous, not least because it would guarantee that - for a moment at least - his unknown adversary’s attention would be directly on him.
It wouldn’t due to court destruction in his own personal stronghold.
But it would be much more fitting, not to mention amusing and potentially quite rewarding, to do it in that of his enemies.
Loki allowed himself a brief grin at the thought. And then, all business, he willed his magic to rise and carried himself off and away to the land known as ‘Manhattan’.
New York was a queer place, a teeming cesspool of mortality and the loud noises, bright lights and other excesses they indulged in to pretend that their existences mattered. But Loki bypassed all of that. He brought himself inside one of the buildings, the very lower levels at the base of the Avengers’ tower.
Inside his foes’ fortress and them none the wiser. Of course, the Iron Man had no doubt put many technological safeguards in place to protect his precious building. No doubt his invisible manservant was on lookout for the slightest appearance or movement that seemed out of place.
But with his magic these toys were easy to fool. One of the first things his recruited pawns from SHIELD had taught him about on the last visit to this planet was facial recognition software. Loki merely made himself invisible to the eye, intangible to anything that might be searching for his weight or body temperature. And then he carefully made his way through the tower, walking wherever he pleased.
It didn’t take long for him to come upon an empty room at the end of what appeared to be an unused corridor. It was a wide open space, undecorated, without even any illumination. His guess as to its purpose was as some manner of storage closet.
Perfect, Loki deemed it with a satisfied nod. After a brief survey to locate and dismantle any pesky devices that might be used to spy on him, he went to work.
On the empty floor he began casting down a web of careful sorcery. Runes and circles he drew with a mixture of chalk, ash, and - though he rued it - some of his own blood. Once finished he walked the design he had created carefully, being sure to stay a foot back the entire time, making certain it was complete.
Then he began to chant.
Time passed at a regular trickle as he worked in fervent concentration, pouring more and more of his power, his own unique signature into the spell. After a space he took a knee, his voice growing raw, his eyes half-lidded, but all the while never blinking, never faltering or stopping.
Even as it drained him Loki felt a vicious sense of pride at his undertaking. This was no fancy illusion, no mere parlor trick. This was not something that just any master of magics could do.
This was working fingers one at a time into the thick and unstable material that made up the reality around him, gradually stretching and pulling at it. Reaching out some impossible distance and catching hold of a spark he could barely see in even his mind’s eye, even as it began to ripple in response to his distant persistent summons; and tugging…
In the darkness of the room the lines of the circle he’d drawn flared. Coming alive as an ethereal light emerged from the marks, and floating off in some spots like a will-o-the-wisp. At first the glow was a bright acid green, and then it faded to a more neutral shade between blue and white.
As Loki rose back to a standing position, he watched as the air within the confines of the circle began to thicken. It grew darker and then wavered with a small implosion, and finally the outline of a figure formed.
From his position a way’s back Loki gazed at it, wary, and studied the details with an intense concentration. It was a female figure; mortal, if he had to venture a guess. Her hair was long and dark, her skin so pale she appeared like a ghost. Her boots were black and well-travelled in. Her dress was black also, with a top that fitted her like a bodice but a skirt that was in tatters. Her nails were sharp and her face was gaunt, severe.
Loki had crossed paths with countless beings over near as many centuries and across a dozen different worlds - and he had angered more of them than he had befriended. But he did not recognize this creature. He didn’t know whether or not that made him disappointed.
Within the glowing confines of the spell-circle the woman’s image flickered between solidity and transparence, which only added to her unearthly spirit-like appearance. When her eyes opened it seemed to take her awhile to focus enough to make out what was in front of her.
Not surprising, considering Loki had bound and dragged her spiritual essence across both space and time. Somewhere her living body had fallen into a deep slumber. Meanwhile his unnamed enemy was both here, and not. It was most convenient, not to mention probably the safest.
The woman’s lips parted to reveal fangs when she spoke. “Who is it that dares to summon I?” she demanded, low and toneless. Her voice was harsh, gravelly.
Loki took half a step forward, the movement fluid and rolling to hide how his steps had become temporarily uneven. This little trick had taken far more out of him than he would’ve liked.
“Right here.” He lifted his chin, mouth set but expressionless, his shoulders raised and his arms at his sides. “I would perhaps see fit to introduce myself, but I have a very strong feeling you already know my name.”
She turned to look at him, head rotating slowly in a smooth movement most humans wouldn’t have been able to pull off. When her gaze at last fixed on him, when she was able to see him clearly, her eyes flashed.
“You,” she ground out, at once all a mixture of surprised, vehement and victorious. “You brought me here? You reached out and let me see the way to you?”
Loki considered her. There were heavily inscribed lines across her face, marks of power. And she carried an aura of her own he could see reacting within the confines of his spell, even more than was to be expected. A sorceress of some type, or perhaps a shaman. And one that was in all likelihood not weak.
She never blinked. Her focus as she watched him was animal-like, predatory.
“I had little choice,” he said at length, an indifferent smile flitting across his face. “I could sense you, out there. I could feel what you were doing.”
The wraith smiled as well, but hers was far from indifferent as his was. It was viciously triumphant.
“I should hope so. I have come long way in doing what I have done. Snuffed out many lives in the process.”
“My life, you mean,” Loki clarified mildly.
“Versions of it,” the sorceress confirmed. Her voice turned into a hiss. “But I’ve no intention of stopping until I’ve killed the one that I really want.”
Loki gestured with his hands, so the very picture of reasonableness it was intended to be mocking. “So why is it that you so want to see me dead? What did this other version of me do to you, to earn your wrath? It makes no difference to me, really - I’m just curious.”
It was both a truth and a lie. The measure and aims of this potential enemy were of far more interest to him than whatever had sparked her bloodlust off. Though knowing more details couldn’t hurt.
As he spoke though the cruel grimace faded from the face of the woman whose essence he held captive. She visibly withdrew, frowning as she eyed him, calculating.
“You don’t know me,” she realized out loud. “You do not recognize me. You are not the end goal of my revenge; you are not the version of him that I seek.”
Loki canted his head. “I believe I said as much. But why so sure?”
She sneered, huffing. Taking a few steps back as if to show her new disinterest, though she hardly had anywhere to move or pace. “If you were him, you wouldn’t need to ask any questions,” she declared with absolute conviction. “You would remember. You would know me; what you did, why I am here. You would know my name.”
She stood as far back from Loki as she could, the in-and-out flickering of her form casting her face even further in shadows. Her eyes moved, hunting, from side to side.
“I think though that this world may very well be closer to what I seek,” she murmured. “There is something about it that feels very familiar.”
Loki watched her, eyes half-lidded, and doing his best not to openly frown. If only snuffing her out like a candle at this point in time was something he could manage. Alas, that wasn’t possible. It was something far outside the limits of what this particular series of enchantments could accomplish.
He had thought by summoning her spirit here he could…if not reason with her, then at least satisfy his curiosity. But this enemy was even more than he anticipated. He doubted very much she was to be reasoned with. He could see very easily that her hatred of him went far outside what could be considered practical.
This massive quest she had undertaken was only a means to an end to her, but one she coldly relished every infinite step of the way. She hungered for his life, his blood.
Or the life and blood of one of his near-dimensional relatives, to be precise. It was metaphysically speaking almost the same thing.
It occurred to Loki now that this decision of his might have backfired. He’d bottled lighting and now wasn’t sure what would happen when he let it out again. He had sought information and gotten very little, save to confirm the worst of what he already knew.
And if he ended the spell, broke the seal and tried to send her back to wherever she came from? She might not go away. If she wished, she could very well will herself to remain, if she was powerful enough. So it could be she that gathered information here instead.
He clenched his jaw once, hard, and then forced his irritation to dissipate, smoothing the feeling away.
“I don’t suppose,” he tried at a last-ditch effort, “you have any reason not to tell me your name. After all, it’s not as if I am the one who is truly your enemy.”
“Not when this began. But now?” The focus of her gaze roamed, taking him in. “Names have power. I think that you know this. I think that neither of us is so great a fool as to think that this will end easily.”
“Why shouldn’t it?” Loki shook his head. “Your aim, I’ve gathered, is to tear the throat out of some duplicate of me in another realm that has wronged you. Why should that be any concern of mine?”
“Why should I be here, talking to you, if it wasn’t?” she countered smartly.
Not showing concession to her point Loki spread his arms and smirked. “Wouldn’t you be curious in my place? If you could feel something moving out among the branches of the World’s Tree, poised to gnaw at your very root? But now that I know it isn’t me you’re really after, I’m prepared to turn a blind eye.”
He stepped back again on his heel, clasping hands together and rubbing them absently. “After all - counterparts may be linked, but not inextricably so. No matter how many of me you kill, it doesn’t have any effect on my life.”
“Not so true as you might think.” She twisted her head vehemently. “I need those lives to complete my journey. Links in a chain, to get me back to where I belong.”
“Links in a chain,” Loki repeated in a murmur. He understood. “So, that’s the manner you’re using to travel from one world to the next. Drawing on the fissure left exposed when you cut one life away from that universal connection. A…grisly method.”
“But effective,” she said back in a snap. “And one that works.”
It certainly does, Loki thought. He stayed where he was and watched her in silence, his expression carefully blank.
Now that he was beginning to see the full picture regarding this would-be foe, he felt…not fear, exactly. But certainly a great deal of unease.
“You think to question me,” she continued, heedless of his pause or his thoughts. “You think to learn my motivations, or maybe to endear yourself? To me you are nothing - just another of those untested links. My path is at random, grasping out for the surest if not the quickest way.”
For a moment her eyes seemed to burn. She seemed not to doubt herself, that in the end she would have the life she sought within her grasp. No matter how long it took her.
“Maybe I will never have need to enter your world, and you live on untouched, unaware. Or maybe you will be among the unlucky few that stand between me and what I desire.”
Her teeth showed. “If so, I will tear through you like all the rest.”
*
LINK TO CONCLUSION OF CHAPTER
Title: In the shadows of the crossroads (Part 3: Double Vision)
Characters: Loki, Thor, Darcy, Jane, Tony Stark, Pepper Potts, Clint Barton, Happy Hogan, Balder, original characters; mention of other Avengers and Erik Selvig
Pairings: Thor/Jane, Tony/Pepper, Loki/Balder
Rating: R for language, violence, dark magic, alcohol use, sex, death, dubious consent (bodyswap), adultery, violence against children, and angst
Length: 16,495 words
Summary: More than twenty years have passed since Loki and Darcy first crossed paths, since whether they knew it or not they began on the path that led to their life together. Things in their world are happy, idyllic. But in another world trouble is resurfacing...and the consequences will be far-reaching and dire.
Notes: See part one for full notes. Also posted at AO3.
Part 3: Double Vision
The sun was shining especially brightly over the hills and fields of Asgard that day, which was only fitting given the occasion. In Breidablik, the beautiful home of Balder the Bright, all was laid out in preparation. It had been cleaned until there was not a speck of dust and everything shone. Tables were spread with clean white sheathes, set with plates and goblets of finest gold and silver. Fresh garlands were threaded through every rafter. The air was marked by the faint scents of flowers and food being prepared for a sumptuous feast.
Truly, it was to be a magnificent wedding.
It was still some hours before the guests were due to arrive. But alone, cloaked in shadows, Loki stole his way in early, a swiftness in his stride.
He kept his head down, willing himself to remain unseen by the servants as he crept his way through the rooms of Breidablik, until at last he found the one he was looking for.
The groom waited alone in his room. He stood gazing thoughtfully out the window and towards the horizon, deep in some unknown contemplation, his features schooled in a mixture of seriousness and calm that made him look all the more like a poetic allusion. The sun was warm on his shoulders, casting a pale brilliance over his figure and catching in the soft strands of his hair. His tunic, his cape, and his sash were all brand-new, commissioned for the occasion, made of light-colored fabrics as fresh as a daisy and decorated by fine turns of elaborate embroidery.
He had never looked any more beautiful. And Loki despised him for it.
“Good morrow, cousin,” he greeted with flat cordiality, dropping the magics that kept him unseen.
Balder turned at the sound of his voice, starting, eyes wide.
“Loki!” He was not so much alarmed as very much surprised. “How did-? What are you doing here?”
Loki shrugged, taking a few measured steps closer. “Why, is it not obvious? I came to pay my respects to you, on this your happiest of days.”
The words were right but the tone was wrong, emotionless and clipped. Balder of course did not appear to notice.
Loki had his arms folded behind his back - concealing that while his left hand gripped his right elbow, his right hand was wrapped tightly around a small dagger with a long and pointed blade.
The dagger was made of wood. Loki had carved it himself, from mistletoe.
My gift to you, Balder, he had thought all the while, looking down at it with grim fury, on your wedding day.
Out loud Loki continued, “You look very well. Finely dressed, the very picture of a young lord and a fortunate man. How fitting an image you present of life and new beginnings, as you mark this joyous occasion, and start your journey as one of the elite granted with wedded bliss-”
As he spoke Balder’s expression had been subtly growing more and more agitated, until at last he broke in with a plea, “Stop! No more I beg of you.”
The muscles in his face strained as if with some mental torment, he caught his breath before looking to Loki with wounded but certain eyes.
“Cousin, there will be no wedding. I’m calling it off.”
Loki had fallen into astonished silence at Balder’s initial outburst, and with this revelation it took him another moment still to regain his voice. “What?”
“It is unfitting, I know. I waited far too long. Lady Nanna will be most displeased, not to mention her family, and mine.” Balder tugged at his neck, prying loose a golden necklace as if it had been choking him. He gazed down at the ornament in one hand with a solemn, quiet look. “But it is unthinkable that I should go through with this. I cannot bear it.”
Loki’s muscles had tightened further in his shock, the arms behind his back now wire-tense and holding their same position perfectly straight. But the dagger had gone slightly limp in his grasp, no longer held at the ready to stab.
“I don’t understand,” he admitted, swaying slightly closer but otherwise not daring to move. “This match was perfectly arranged. It was celebrated. Certainly,” and here a touch of bitterness stole its way into his voice once more, “everyone has been speaking highly of it for months.”
It had at length proved more than Loki could bear listening to. As hot as the anger in his heart burned for Balder - tormenting him in minor ways and sneering at him from afar did not turn out to be enough for him. After all these centuries of watching, waiting, enduring, he realized he could take no more. And so he had chosen to strike the final blow.
“I know.” Balder nodded, oblivious to Loki’s secret thoughts. “Nanna is a well-bred woman. Her family is connected, and she is rich in dowry. She possesses good manners, and is learned in all the womanly arts, and has a singular delicacy and grace. And there is no fault to be found with her appearance, either. Her hair, her skin, her eyes…no, all parts of her are more than passing fair.”
Loki’s smile held a twist and his eyes were bright with how inwardly he seethed as he listened to this recitation of the lovely Nanna’s recommending attributes.
“What, then?” he asked Balder, coolly mocking. “Do you hold out for something better? Is the Lady Nanna not even yet worthy of Balder the Bright?”
Balder’s face colored in mortification at the very idea. “No,” he protested, aghast. “That isn’t it at all!”
“I confess then that I fail to see your dilemma that forces you to break from your engagement. I know it cannot be that your fiancée does not love you. After all - doesn’t everyone?”
Loki smiled again, unpleasantly, and cocked his head aside as he said it. His tone was once more mocking, and no doubt Balder would think the jibe at his expense. Through the years Loki had belittled him for his nature and his ways often enough.
But oh, if only he knew. It was not Balder that Loki mocked, when he spoke of infatuation. It was Loki himself.
How many centuries had Loki sat in the shadows, watching his fair cousin go about his ways, cursing him for all that he was; all he had seemingly been born to be? Balder was everything that Loki was not - noble and handsome, giving and carefree, and most of all beloved. He was the pinnacle of Asgardian youth. And all this he did without effort, he achieved without ever seeming to try.
Of course secretive, sour, sly, wicked Loki must hate Balder. Must loathe him completely. For as long as anyone could remember Loki had played tricks on Balder, had pelted him with mean words - which of course Balder had met with a forgiving smile. Everyone was certain Loki considered Balder his worst enemy - it was what everyone knew, and yet they were wrong.
For much as he reviled and cursed it, even Loki was helpless against Balder’s charms. His gentle face, his sweet voice and kind words. They had proved to be sullen and shadowy Loki’s undoing. A burning coal was stoked in his chest that try as he might he could not snuff out. Yes, Loki hated Balder - hated him, and loved him helplessly all the while. He adored him with every pathetic, unworthy scrap of the thing he was. He lived in dread of the fact he would do anything for Balder; all he had to do was ask.
But Balder, for all his kindness, never gave more than a glance and a polite smile Loki’s way. He barely knew he even existed.
It was a simple set of facts that had continually made Loki’s existence unbearable. He had nursed his pride, kept his shameful secret hidden, but Balder’s impending nuptials had turned into the last pain that his heart could take. He watched as every day his beloved had come closer to being eternally bound to another, and it had pushed him to the brink on which he now stood.
Destroy the thing that he loved most. Drink deep of his bitterness and self-revulsion, and know that if Balder was placed forever beyond his reach, at least no one else could ever touch him either.
It was madness, near purposeless and destructive. The kind of thing which Loki did best.
But now this unexpected conversation was happening, which had stymied him somewhat. He had never once thought that perhaps Balder did not want to get married. Especially with such an excellent match.
At his words Balder was shaking his head. “Nanna is quite fond of me, I know well. More than once she had made her feelings known to me by a look, or her words.”
Instead of sounding proud of this, or even pleased, he instead seemed strangely rueful.
“Then I definitely don’t know what ails you,” Loki said to him, blunt.
Balder was downright pained. “The problem is that I do not love her.”
There was a long pause during which Loki gazed at him, expressionless. And then he broke it by laughing. It was a wild, harsh laugh - almost a cackle.
“Oh,” he coughed out, “is that all?” Balder stared at him in dismay. “Cousin, I had no idea you were still so naïve! Are we not born to noble duty, destined to marry for a good family name and land rights? Most men marry women they can hardly stand and think nothing of it. Be grateful you’ve found yourself a beauty that fawns over you. If you must have love, then wait for it to form later on down the line.”
“Yes,” Balder said, sadly, “that’s what I tried to tell myself at first, too. That after Nanna and I built a life together, our hearts may well grow as one. Long I’ve tried to resign myself to it. But here I stand, at the final threshold, and I know that I cannot. I can’t promise myself to a marriage with someone I do not love - and know that I never will.”
Loki peered at him with frank curiosity.
“How can you know with such certainty?” he had to ask.
Balder could only meet his eye for an instant, but when he did his gaze burned bright with an inner fire, of some yet unnamed emotion and a strong conviction.
“Because,” he declared, “I am already in love, with another!”
Loki’s eyes widened. He clenched his jaw tight. And to think for all his close watching of Balder, he had no idea. How doubly unexpected this all was.
“Oh,” he managed. “How…fortuitous for you. But then why not simply marry this true love of yours instead?”
Balder dropped his gaze, almost guilty. “They would not be considered suitable,” he admitted. “Indeed, it’s someone that…for a long time I have known I should not love. I have struggled with it. I’ve tried to make my feelings change.” He sighed.
“But feelings are what they will. And I’ve realized, no matter what else others may think, there is no reason I can give to resist.” He lifted his head assuredly and met Loki’s gaze. The other found himself with breath suddenly caught in his throat. “I shouldn’t try to deny this feeling, that fills me with such warmth. I should permit myself to be honest about what it is I truly desire…with all my heart.”
If noble Balder already appeared quite handsome, then Balder in the full-flush of admitting his love was a majestic and breathtaking sight indeed.
He took a step towards Loki, his ardent gaze never faltering all the while. Loki remained where he was, frozen, feeling a shudder go through his whole body as he tried to fathom what was happening.
“I don’t understand,” he said feebly. His shoulders hunched instinctively, defensive, as if trying to ward off the cursed fluttering in his breast. “Who is it that you speak of so…passionately? Who are you in love with, Balder?”
Balder gazed at him, his blue eyes deep and clear, never blinking as he looked to Loki with soft intensity.
“Do you not know?” he demanded. “All this centuries, and have I never betrayed a single sign to you? Can you really not guess?”
Loki’s mind raced without purpose - for once his clever thoughts refused to make the next leap. He couldn’t believe it. He couldn’t allow that of himself. Not until he already knew it was true.
“Say it,” he commanded Balder in a whisper. “Tell me who it is that you love. Who you could long for with such ardor that it pushes you past the point of duty or common sense.”
Balder took another step closer. He still did not look away from Loki, gaze never flickering from where it held his eyes. There was a pause, acutely painful in its bittersweet promise, its intensity. And then Balder opened his mouth.
But nothing came out, except a helpless, strangled gurgle. And a thick trickle of blood, where it suddenly spilled from the corner of his mouth.
Loki gasped, or perhaps he meant to, but there was no sound. He could do nothing but watch as Balder’s body fell heavily to the floor, his fading eyes still fastened on Loki all the way.
His brain was still trying to fit the pieces together, to make sense of what he was looking at, as Loki managed to pull his gaze away from Balder, to the wooden knife that had buried in his heart, to the hand of the one that stood there calmly holding it.
The blade had been buried deep but Balder’s weight had pulled free of it, and now it hung blood-soaked in the air with point still facing the direction of the heart it had pierced. The dagger of mistletoe that Loki himself had carved - that somehow in his distraction had been liberated from his grasp behind his back.
“Sorry,” the murderer said, her face expressionless, her voice stiff. “But I had to interrupt. Couldn’t wait; he was taking forever.”
Taking a sliding step away she added in a mutter, “It isn’t like he was saying anything important, right?”
Loki barely glanced at her. He looked past her, to Balder. Balder’s prone corpse, now. With a wet sound Loki dove to the ground on his knees beside it.
His arms went around in a pathetic attempt to lift Balder up. As if that would do any good now. He made a broken sound, desperate sobbing, still too shocked for tears to form or properly fall.
“No.” At first a broken whisper, his voice rose as it became a frantic plea: “No, no no no!”
It was one thing to fantasize about the man he loved dead. It was one thing, even, to plan it - to fully intend on personally carrying it out.
It was another entirely to watch him killed by a stranger right in front of him. Especially when it seemed as if he might very well have been moments away from divulging-
Loki’s eyes shot up to gaze heatedly at the other being present. His consuming emotion at the moment was still a sense of shell-shocked disbelief. He felt as though the ground had been yanked out from under him.
The woman was indeed a stranger, no one he recognized or had ever seen before. Her skin was near bloodless pale, her clothes torn, her hair dark and wild. She had a feral, sinister face, and eyes cold as anything. She wasn’t Asgardian. She didn’t appear to belong to any race Loki knew. He would’ve almost guessed at her being mortal, but there was something about her, something strange and off and…inhuman.
“Who are you?” Loki demanded of her, still crouching on the ground, holding his dead love near the floor at her feet.
She paced a bit back and forth, a distracted absent sort of motion. The knife remained in her hand. Rivulets of blood had dripped all the way up to her wrist.
She frowned at his question, as if it displeased her. “Does it matter?” she retorted. “Do you really care? What does it concern of you what my name is - far as you know me I’m the one who killed, if I had to guess, the man you seem to have cared quite a bit for.”
Pausing she glanced at the wooden knife she had taken from him, tossing it up and catching it deftly.
“Though it would appear you had a funny way of showing it.”
Loki clenched his teeth. As he drew a breath, bringing strength and focus to him once more, at last emotions past the dulling curtain of shock emerged. Pain, yes, but anger too; a vicious anger surging right on into bloodthirsty rage.
Observing the change that came over his face, the way he glowered at her, the woman blinked calculatingly as she watched him.
“Am I going to get a rise out of you? Are you determined to destroy me? I hope now, at least, you can create something of a worthy challenge,” she scoffed; “I am getting so tired of killing you without you even putting up a decent fight.”
This small speech made not one whit of sense to Loki, but he couldn’t even begin to care. His shoulders were shaking with repressed fury. He ground his teeth together, baring them as he was consumed by fetid hatred.
The sorceress cocked her head at him in an examining manner. The next moment as he shot to his feet and lunged for her she moved out of the way as she took on a wary stance.
But even as the battle had only just begun Selene could see through to when and how she was sure it would be over. And to her resigned disappointment, she already knew it wouldn’t last long.
He was murderously angry, driven by deep wounded emotion, and more than willing to kill. But this Loki was young yet - not principled, not as worldly as he thought himself. Impressive though he seemed he was nothing compared to some of the other versions of himself. He could still be shocked, be overtaken by his sentiments. And he was reeling, raw, having just been shaken to the core.
No, Selene knew; no matter what he thought, he would not be avenging his would-be lover today.
But at least by her hands, the two of them would at last be brought together, united in death.
*
Over the whir of the helicopter’s blades, Jane couldn’t make out what Darcy was saying. But she felt the nudge in her side from her assistant’s elbow, and figured before she even looked that it meant they had arrived at their destination.
Looking up from the book she had been skimming Jane just caught a glimpse of the word ‘Avengers’ written out in electric lights as they closed in on the roof of the tall tower. Though she had visited New York before she still marveled at the sight of the building nestled among that impressive skyline.
Darcy was yelling - something about it “almost being worth their hours’ long flight”. Jane ignored her; not because she was wrong or right but because at the moment she had nothing of her own to say.
The pilot turned his seat to give them a polite but firm warning about hanging on and not trying to move until he had landed and gotten them settled.
They touched down on the helipad built on top of the tower and there were steady reverberations as the machine powered down and the noisy whirring of the blades faded away.
“Finally,” Darcy exclaimed, snapping off her buckled straps and leaping out almost before the pilot could get free and help her.
Jane was a little bit longer, taking her time. She took one last look down at the pages spread open in her lap. It was one of the myth books Erik had recommended to her ages ago.
She glanced across the illustration paired with the story she was on. Bold letters at the top of the page proclaimed “The Death of Balder”. The picture was angry gods in mourning over a warrior stretched out on a bier in repose. Pulling her eyes away Jane abruptly snapped the book shut and stuffed it in her bag.
There was no one there to greet them as they walked across the tarmac - at least, no one human or physically there. But a set of cameras conspicuously monitored their every move, and a set of sensors passed over them before the door automatically unlocked for their entrance.
As they walked down the first hallway inside the building Jane turned to give the SHIELD pilot that had escorted them a polite smile.
“Thanks for bringing us here.”
“Oh, it was no problem, ma’am,” he returned with a smile of his own. “As one of our top researchers, SHIELD is dedicated to helping you out in whatever way we can.”
Bluntly, Darcy said to him, “I think what she meant is that you can go now.”
Jane rolled her eyes and inwardly sighed, not that she was too surprised. Whether it was just posturing to show how ‘independent-minded’ she was or what, Darcy really didn’t like the SHIELD agents. She kind of went out of her way to be as rude to them as possible.
The pilot frowned. Instead of snapping back at her though, he managed to keep his voice relatively even. “As I said, SHIELD remains very interested in Dr. Foster’s work, and by extension her well-being. I can’t just take off until I can verify that you’ve been safely escorted to your destination.”
“In that case, pal, I think I can put you and your bosses at ease.”
A door at the opposite end of the hallway slid open and the source of the new voice strode forward comfortably, followed close by a red-haired woman in business-wear and intimidating heels. Jane recognized Tony Stark at once, and as mixed feelings as she had about other parts of his ‘reputation’, her knowledge of his work as an inventor had her breath coming up short.
Reaching them Stark turned first to the SHIELD man and gave him an amicable if dismissive pat on the shoulder.
“Job well done. We can take it from here.” He redirected his gaze at the two women and clapped his hands. “So. You must be Dr. Jane Foster. And this is the assistant, Miss, uh…?”
“Lewis,” Darcy interjected without hesitation, almost snottily. “Darcy Lewis. You don’t look nearly as tall in person.”
The agent, meanwhile, had responded to the dismissal with a salute and was already leaving. Stark gave a sideways twist of a smile, seeming more amused than insulted.
“I get that a lot,” he said without pause. “The suit adds a couple of inches.”
The redhead spoke over him without reserve, cordially addressing Jane. “It’s a pleasure to have you visiting us, Dr. Foster. While you’re here let us know if there’s anything you need. I’ll make sure to introduce you to JARVIS before I go.”
“Well thank you both for having us,” Jane returned. “Especially since it was technically Thor who extended the invitation, I have a feeling without asking.”
The woman nodded with a faint smile, but let that pass by without comment. “Thor isn’t in, at the moment,” she informed them. “He went out and should probably be back later this evening, though I can’t say for sure.”
“That’s…fine.”
The truth was the longer she went without having to talk to or see Thor again, probably the better. Though Jane hadn’t yet to entirely throw in the towel, her feelings at present were far, far too confused. Bordering even on the painful. So while coming to the tower was, indeed, partially an excuse to see him again…right now she was far more interested in the scientific toys she’d been promised a glimpse at.
“I’m sure there’ll be plenty here to keep me occupied until he gets back.”
“Oh, how untoward of me.” Seeming to realize, Stark belatedly gestured to the woman at his side. They made quite the contrast: he in what could be at best described as dressy casual, while she was wearing an impeccably tailored power suit. “This is Pepper Potts; I’m sure you’ve heard of her.”
Pepper shook both their hands, Darcy lunging forward for hers with a grin.
“Acting CEO of Stark Industries,” the redhead explained for their benefit.
“And also my girlfriend,” Stark added, cheeky. Sliding a hand over her hip he spoke in a stage whisper as he nudged her in the side. “Guess which one keeps her more occupied.”
“Yes, well, all things considered, I’d say both can be equally time-consuming.” She smiled brightly and didn’t glance at him as she spoke, though the subtle barb was obviously aimed his way.
Jane kept her face nearly blank, not sure whether she wanted to laugh or feel mortified, as beside her Darcy snorted.
“Ouch. Okay, yeah: now that that’s outta the way.” Pulling away from Pepper, Stark gestured expansively. “Come on. Ms. Potts has a meeting, hence the intimidating formalwear, but we can see her to the fancy elevators before I start giving you two the tour.”
They were herded back through the doors the other two had first entered from, into a room that was white and mostly empty but otherwise looked like a lobby.
“This used to be my penthouse, but certain parties pointed out to me that having my living quarters on the very top floor was as good as skywriting out ‘Terrorists, aim missile here’. Thank you again for that, Ms. Potts.”
“You’re very welcome.” She had on a smile that was somehow at once humoring and smug. Jane got the feeling it was well-practiced. She didn’t have long to contemplate on it though as Stark turned his attentions back to her.
“Dr. Foster, I just wanted to tell you. Astrophysics has admittedly never really been my thing, but I did flip through some of your papers once we got word you were on your way over. I was most impressed, I think, by your original graduate thesis.”
“Let me guess,” Jane smiled forcibly, having had many versions of this conversation with other academics over the years as she got further and further ‘off-course’; “You think none of my later work lives up to the potential that I seemed to promise.”
“Well, no, I wouldn’t say that.” Stark blinked. “But then that’s probably because I have firsthand knowledge of what you’ve actually accomplished in the form of say, Vikings from beyond the stars.”
Jane had to laugh, more relieved than she would’ve cared to admit.
Darcy was apparently already bored with the conversation because while they’d been talking, she’d been visibly scanning the lobby.
“What’s with all the suits?” She pointed out the security detail. “I thought this was basically an apartment building for superheroes.”
“It sort of is, and you’re right; it’s totally unnecessary.” Stark’s response was completely flippant. “But we’ll get to that later. Now, would you like to go straight to the laboratory floors or would you rather get the full tour? Viewing platform, entertainment suite, master kitchen, full floor indoor Japanese hot springs?”
“Do you actually have a full floor indoor hot spring?” Darcy asked with interest.
“Well-”
“No,” Pepper interrupted, flat.
Undeterred Stark went on, “There’s a chance we may add one with further renovations.”
“No you are not.” Behind them the elevator dinged. She pressed a kiss to Tony’s cheek. “Okay, I really do have to go now. I’ll see you later.”
“Bye!” As Pepper went into the elevator a stocky man in a dark suit stepped off. “Oh, look who it is.” Stark pointed without hesitation. “Ladies, this is our head of security. He’s the one responsible for all the frankly useless guards that are cluttering up my gorgeous state of the art building.”
“Hey, you mock it all you like,” retorted the other man, with the attitude of one who took his work very seriously. He wore a plastic badge proclaiming “H. Hogan” and from the way he and Stark were talking to each other Jane guessed he had been working for the man for a long while. “You’ll be glad they were here when trouble comes.”
In response to this declaration though Stark only made a mocking sound, as he stepped forward and waved his guests onto the elevator. Darcy jumped in and nestled for the best spot, and Jane quickly followed.
“Sure - ‘when the trouble comes’,” the billionaire repeated scathingly. “Uh, have you not noticed what name is plastered all over the side of the building? Because if I was some lowlife looking to make for a good time, this is definitely the first place I’d head. You know, right after I tried to tunnel under the Pentagon, and broke into Fort Knox.”
The security man gazed at his employer stonily. “You realize that you basically just jinxed yourself.”
“Oh, grow up,” Stark called without a hint of irony as the elevator doors slid shut.
*
If Loki intended to go courting danger, it wouldn’t be without a veil of security or two in place.
He’d spent nearly the last twenty-four hours floating somewhere in a state between asleep and awake, putting his mind into a trance and his body in near hibernation as his spirit went a’ roving.
Though he had not been able to discern much more about his attacker, he’d not expected to. But he had confirmed what his earlier senses had already told him.
There was a weak but discernible connection from the energy of his life’s line that spun out into the universe like so much tangled thread. With enough time, and effort, and power, that line could be traced back to where it met other similar threads, from other similar lives - presumably other Lokis, or versions of someone very much like him, out there scattered amongst who knew how many myriad worlds.
But the other threads were fractured. There was a sense as though there’d been a great rending in fate’s tapestry, lights snuffed out that were otherwise indistinguishable among the stars. The energy he sensed from the other threads of existence, these other lives, was in distress; injured, maybe even killed.
Someone was hunting down versions of him, one after the other, and putting them in the ground. There was no telling whether or not they might be headed his way next.
But, as forewarned was forearmed, he planned to find out.
Once his move had been decided, next he had to choose where to make his stand. What he hoped to achieve was dangerous, not least because it would guarantee that - for a moment at least - his unknown adversary’s attention would be directly on him.
It wouldn’t due to court destruction in his own personal stronghold.
But it would be much more fitting, not to mention amusing and potentially quite rewarding, to do it in that of his enemies.
Loki allowed himself a brief grin at the thought. And then, all business, he willed his magic to rise and carried himself off and away to the land known as ‘Manhattan’.
New York was a queer place, a teeming cesspool of mortality and the loud noises, bright lights and other excesses they indulged in to pretend that their existences mattered. But Loki bypassed all of that. He brought himself inside one of the buildings, the very lower levels at the base of the Avengers’ tower.
Inside his foes’ fortress and them none the wiser. Of course, the Iron Man had no doubt put many technological safeguards in place to protect his precious building. No doubt his invisible manservant was on lookout for the slightest appearance or movement that seemed out of place.
But with his magic these toys were easy to fool. One of the first things his recruited pawns from SHIELD had taught him about on the last visit to this planet was facial recognition software. Loki merely made himself invisible to the eye, intangible to anything that might be searching for his weight or body temperature. And then he carefully made his way through the tower, walking wherever he pleased.
It didn’t take long for him to come upon an empty room at the end of what appeared to be an unused corridor. It was a wide open space, undecorated, without even any illumination. His guess as to its purpose was as some manner of storage closet.
Perfect, Loki deemed it with a satisfied nod. After a brief survey to locate and dismantle any pesky devices that might be used to spy on him, he went to work.
On the empty floor he began casting down a web of careful sorcery. Runes and circles he drew with a mixture of chalk, ash, and - though he rued it - some of his own blood. Once finished he walked the design he had created carefully, being sure to stay a foot back the entire time, making certain it was complete.
Then he began to chant.
Time passed at a regular trickle as he worked in fervent concentration, pouring more and more of his power, his own unique signature into the spell. After a space he took a knee, his voice growing raw, his eyes half-lidded, but all the while never blinking, never faltering or stopping.
Even as it drained him Loki felt a vicious sense of pride at his undertaking. This was no fancy illusion, no mere parlor trick. This was not something that just any master of magics could do.
This was working fingers one at a time into the thick and unstable material that made up the reality around him, gradually stretching and pulling at it. Reaching out some impossible distance and catching hold of a spark he could barely see in even his mind’s eye, even as it began to ripple in response to his distant persistent summons; and tugging…
In the darkness of the room the lines of the circle he’d drawn flared. Coming alive as an ethereal light emerged from the marks, and floating off in some spots like a will-o-the-wisp. At first the glow was a bright acid green, and then it faded to a more neutral shade between blue and white.
As Loki rose back to a standing position, he watched as the air within the confines of the circle began to thicken. It grew darker and then wavered with a small implosion, and finally the outline of a figure formed.
From his position a way’s back Loki gazed at it, wary, and studied the details with an intense concentration. It was a female figure; mortal, if he had to venture a guess. Her hair was long and dark, her skin so pale she appeared like a ghost. Her boots were black and well-travelled in. Her dress was black also, with a top that fitted her like a bodice but a skirt that was in tatters. Her nails were sharp and her face was gaunt, severe.
Loki had crossed paths with countless beings over near as many centuries and across a dozen different worlds - and he had angered more of them than he had befriended. But he did not recognize this creature. He didn’t know whether or not that made him disappointed.
Within the glowing confines of the spell-circle the woman’s image flickered between solidity and transparence, which only added to her unearthly spirit-like appearance. When her eyes opened it seemed to take her awhile to focus enough to make out what was in front of her.
Not surprising, considering Loki had bound and dragged her spiritual essence across both space and time. Somewhere her living body had fallen into a deep slumber. Meanwhile his unnamed enemy was both here, and not. It was most convenient, not to mention probably the safest.
The woman’s lips parted to reveal fangs when she spoke. “Who is it that dares to summon I?” she demanded, low and toneless. Her voice was harsh, gravelly.
Loki took half a step forward, the movement fluid and rolling to hide how his steps had become temporarily uneven. This little trick had taken far more out of him than he would’ve liked.
“Right here.” He lifted his chin, mouth set but expressionless, his shoulders raised and his arms at his sides. “I would perhaps see fit to introduce myself, but I have a very strong feeling you already know my name.”
She turned to look at him, head rotating slowly in a smooth movement most humans wouldn’t have been able to pull off. When her gaze at last fixed on him, when she was able to see him clearly, her eyes flashed.
“You,” she ground out, at once all a mixture of surprised, vehement and victorious. “You brought me here? You reached out and let me see the way to you?”
Loki considered her. There were heavily inscribed lines across her face, marks of power. And she carried an aura of her own he could see reacting within the confines of his spell, even more than was to be expected. A sorceress of some type, or perhaps a shaman. And one that was in all likelihood not weak.
She never blinked. Her focus as she watched him was animal-like, predatory.
“I had little choice,” he said at length, an indifferent smile flitting across his face. “I could sense you, out there. I could feel what you were doing.”
The wraith smiled as well, but hers was far from indifferent as his was. It was viciously triumphant.
“I should hope so. I have come long way in doing what I have done. Snuffed out many lives in the process.”
“My life, you mean,” Loki clarified mildly.
“Versions of it,” the sorceress confirmed. Her voice turned into a hiss. “But I’ve no intention of stopping until I’ve killed the one that I really want.”
Loki gestured with his hands, so the very picture of reasonableness it was intended to be mocking. “So why is it that you so want to see me dead? What did this other version of me do to you, to earn your wrath? It makes no difference to me, really - I’m just curious.”
It was both a truth and a lie. The measure and aims of this potential enemy were of far more interest to him than whatever had sparked her bloodlust off. Though knowing more details couldn’t hurt.
As he spoke though the cruel grimace faded from the face of the woman whose essence he held captive. She visibly withdrew, frowning as she eyed him, calculating.
“You don’t know me,” she realized out loud. “You do not recognize me. You are not the end goal of my revenge; you are not the version of him that I seek.”
Loki canted his head. “I believe I said as much. But why so sure?”
She sneered, huffing. Taking a few steps back as if to show her new disinterest, though she hardly had anywhere to move or pace. “If you were him, you wouldn’t need to ask any questions,” she declared with absolute conviction. “You would remember. You would know me; what you did, why I am here. You would know my name.”
She stood as far back from Loki as she could, the in-and-out flickering of her form casting her face even further in shadows. Her eyes moved, hunting, from side to side.
“I think though that this world may very well be closer to what I seek,” she murmured. “There is something about it that feels very familiar.”
Loki watched her, eyes half-lidded, and doing his best not to openly frown. If only snuffing her out like a candle at this point in time was something he could manage. Alas, that wasn’t possible. It was something far outside the limits of what this particular series of enchantments could accomplish.
He had thought by summoning her spirit here he could…if not reason with her, then at least satisfy his curiosity. But this enemy was even more than he anticipated. He doubted very much she was to be reasoned with. He could see very easily that her hatred of him went far outside what could be considered practical.
This massive quest she had undertaken was only a means to an end to her, but one she coldly relished every infinite step of the way. She hungered for his life, his blood.
Or the life and blood of one of his near-dimensional relatives, to be precise. It was metaphysically speaking almost the same thing.
It occurred to Loki now that this decision of his might have backfired. He’d bottled lighting and now wasn’t sure what would happen when he let it out again. He had sought information and gotten very little, save to confirm the worst of what he already knew.
And if he ended the spell, broke the seal and tried to send her back to wherever she came from? She might not go away. If she wished, she could very well will herself to remain, if she was powerful enough. So it could be she that gathered information here instead.
He clenched his jaw once, hard, and then forced his irritation to dissipate, smoothing the feeling away.
“I don’t suppose,” he tried at a last-ditch effort, “you have any reason not to tell me your name. After all, it’s not as if I am the one who is truly your enemy.”
“Not when this began. But now?” The focus of her gaze roamed, taking him in. “Names have power. I think that you know this. I think that neither of us is so great a fool as to think that this will end easily.”
“Why shouldn’t it?” Loki shook his head. “Your aim, I’ve gathered, is to tear the throat out of some duplicate of me in another realm that has wronged you. Why should that be any concern of mine?”
“Why should I be here, talking to you, if it wasn’t?” she countered smartly.
Not showing concession to her point Loki spread his arms and smirked. “Wouldn’t you be curious in my place? If you could feel something moving out among the branches of the World’s Tree, poised to gnaw at your very root? But now that I know it isn’t me you’re really after, I’m prepared to turn a blind eye.”
He stepped back again on his heel, clasping hands together and rubbing them absently. “After all - counterparts may be linked, but not inextricably so. No matter how many of me you kill, it doesn’t have any effect on my life.”
“Not so true as you might think.” She twisted her head vehemently. “I need those lives to complete my journey. Links in a chain, to get me back to where I belong.”
“Links in a chain,” Loki repeated in a murmur. He understood. “So, that’s the manner you’re using to travel from one world to the next. Drawing on the fissure left exposed when you cut one life away from that universal connection. A…grisly method.”
“But effective,” she said back in a snap. “And one that works.”
It certainly does, Loki thought. He stayed where he was and watched her in silence, his expression carefully blank.
Now that he was beginning to see the full picture regarding this would-be foe, he felt…not fear, exactly. But certainly a great deal of unease.
“You think to question me,” she continued, heedless of his pause or his thoughts. “You think to learn my motivations, or maybe to endear yourself? To me you are nothing - just another of those untested links. My path is at random, grasping out for the surest if not the quickest way.”
For a moment her eyes seemed to burn. She seemed not to doubt herself, that in the end she would have the life she sought within her grasp. No matter how long it took her.
“Maybe I will never have need to enter your world, and you live on untouched, unaware. Or maybe you will be among the unlucky few that stand between me and what I desire.”
Her teeth showed. “If so, I will tear through you like all the rest.”
*
LINK TO CONCLUSION OF CHAPTER