Didn't Know I Was Lost, 6/8. NC-17
Title: Didn't Know I Was Lost
Author: Eustacia Vye
Author's e-mail: eustacia_vye28@hotmail.com
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Loki/Natasha
Disclaimer: Not mine! Some comic backstory is incorporated into characterizations, but this is still primarily movieverse.
Spoilers/Warnings: Post-Avengers, AU to Thor 2.
This is the fault of phoenixrising06/
romanovasledger during all of our characterization discussions. Still, not sorry for this. :)
Summary: Natasha and Loki had a thing, no emotions or strings attached. Until they accidentally created one.
Prior chapters:
One - Accidents
Two - Decisions
Three - Bindings
Four - Fears
Five - Confidences
Six - Stories
"Loki seems to be doing all right with Rose," Steve commented when Natasha joined the others in the gym. Doing yoga alone in her suite wasn't as fulfilling as working with the others, though she was somewhat deconditioned from months without the hard training she had been used to.
"He's getting used to her. It probably helps that she's not quite as young as before."
"Six weeks, right?" Bruce asked, not stopping from his own yoga routine.
"Yes," she confirmed as she took off her shoes and put her towel over them. Her own six week checkup was in a few days, and she felt well enough to be cleared for all of her usual activities. That usually included sex, but she currently had zero interest in using her body in sexual ways.
"Now, she's growing like a human baby, right?" Sam asked beneath the barbell he was lifting. Steve was spotting him, and alongside them Clint was working with free weights. Tony was nowhere to be seen, and Carol was doing stretches near Bruce.
"So far," Natasha said, joining Bruce and Carol in the area of the gym they were working in. "There doesn't seem to be any difference in her growth pattern just because she's half alien, and the pediatrician's run several ultrasounds by now."
"You don't even really notice the blue tinge to her skin," Carol commented. "Well, until I pick her up, and then the blue in my costume just brings it right out."
"We'll pretend your outfit's glowing," Steve called out.
"Your outfit's just as blue," she snarked back.
"I haven't worn it while trying to hold her."
"Just your old man threads," Sam commented as he racked the barbell. He laughed when Steve swatted his head. "The leather jacket's fine, but all that plaid? You should've let us update your wardrobe."
"There's nothing wrong with my clothes!"
"Sure. For a ninety-five year old man," Clint joined in, grinning.
"Is this attack the Captain day?" Steve asked, grinning at the good natured ribbing.
"Just that Captain!" Carol replied.
Natasha had missed this, and didn't even drop her fond smile when Bruce looked in her direction. "Hey, I'm sure you'll be back out in the field in no time."
"It's all right. I'm used to hard work. I'll get back into more rigorous training once I'm cleared for it," Natasha assured him.
Carol eyed her split and then how far she could bend over her leg. "Ye-ah, I don't think you'll need that long to get back into action," she drawled. "Damn, that's flexible."
"I can do yoga and free weights, so that's what I've been doing," Natasha replied with a shrug, still holding her ankle. Her chest was pressed right against her right knee, her left leg stretched completely out behind her. "My doctor thought serious sparring would be too much for me."
"Considering how acrobatic you are?" Carol replied, shaking her head. "I've seen the video and I can believe it. I mean, six weeks out from delivery and you don't look like you've had a baby at all. I haven't had a baby and I can't do a full front split like that."
"Don't feel bad, I've been training since I was nearly six years old."
Natasha could almost feel Clint's gape and stare. She didn't allude to the Red Room if she could help it. Ever. He didn't even know the details, but he knew many Bad Things had happened if she ever failed her training or her missions. He knew that various kinds of memory modification, personality overlays and heavy duty drugs were used to keep the girls of the Red Room compliant with their masters.
"So you meant it in India," Bruce commented. "When you said you started that young?"
"Yes," Natasha agreed, shifting her pose so that her left leg was in front of her and her right was behind her. "Innocuous things at first, then deadlier."
Steve put down the barbell he was about to lift. "You okay with mentioning it?" he asked, brows knit in concern.
Moving to sit in the lotus position, Natasha thought about it. She weighed her past against his concern, against the others' concern and curiosity. "Some of it," she decided finally. "It's level nine or ten clearance, most of it, and would be part of the redacted portions of my personnel file if you ever tried to find it. But some of it I might be willing to talk about." She let out a slow breath. "If only because I want you to stop me from potentially doing any of those things with Rose."
"Somehow, I don't think you'd torture your own daughter," Clint commented, moving to sit nearby. "And you'd never allow anyone else to."
"I'd slit their throats," Natasha replied immediately.
"And that's not creepy at all," Bruce commented wryly. But he didn't edge away from her, didn't shift his posture or facial expression.
"Spy parenting," Sam replied, plopping down next to Clint and waving Steve over with an exaggerated arm motion. "C'mon, old man. Join the coffee clutch."
They all sat in a rough circle, Natasha seated between Bruce and Clint. Still, it didn't feel like she was being singled out to talk, like she was being judged and found wanting because of her past in the Red Room.
She wanted to tell them about it, she realized suddenly. She wanted them to know why she was so hesitant to trust, why emotions were frightening, why she always had to push herself so hard. If they knew about that, if they knew her secret self buried beneath her covers, they could help her. They could keep her safe, keep Rose safe, help her balance her ledger.
They didn't need to know details, like the weight of the Makarov in her palm at age seven, the look on the face of the first kill she made with it. They didn't need to know how she hollowed herself out to survive, how the mask developed or why. But she told them how the girls all competed to be the best, because that was how they would be fed and clothed and kept warm at night. The losers of contests were punished with absence of these things, and they were all forced to compete for limited resources. She told them how the coiling fear in her gut was a familiar feeling throughout her lifetime, that it kept her sharp and aware of her surroundings. It saved her from a knife in the gut at age nine. It kept her alert when in isolation for 72 hours after breaking an instructor's arm. She told them about the tests out in the field, about crafting layers of truth around herself before hitting puberty because it kept her alive.
And they listened, questioned to clarify, and didn't judge. There was no pity when they looked at her, no edging away or thinking she was horrible. They didn't question her need for a ledger, but did tell her it was unnecessary.
Natasha felt just as exhausted as if she had trained hard for hours, but she also felt lighter. Her chest wasn't so tight, as if her spirit wanted to stretch beyond the reach of her bones and split her skin. The Red Room didn't weigh her down so heavily, didn't prey on her as much. Most of the time she didn't think about that, but Rose's birth had forced her to come to grips with how she was raised. She had no positive role models, after all, only negative ones, though Carol pointed out it was just important to have those, too. "You know what not to do, and there will be plenty of people hanging around to help tell you what to do."
"Kids are resilient, you know," Bruce offered helpfully.
"And forgiving," Clint said with a half smile in her direction. "You'll be okay."
Maybe Natasha could believe it. And just maybe, she could begin to forgive herself for the past she couldn't help but have.
***
"I have been reading the research done on this realm," Loki said abruptly. He was lying on Natasha's bed, Rose sleeping on his chest calmly. He had one hand braced on her back to keep her balanced there, the other held the Starkpad he had been looking at. Natasha hadn't discussed her checkup with him, but was starting to ease into her prior exercise and sparring routine with the others.
"And?" she asked, slipping on a pair of jeans. She was freshly showered after a light session in the gym with Sam.
"There is the concept of a good enough mother."
Natasha frowned as she buttoned up the top. "I'm doing badly, aren't I?"
"On the contrary. The research indicates that there is no need to generate anxiety about reaching utter perfection when it doesn't exist. Meeting her needs as she has them, making her feel secure... that is the 'good enough' that the research discusses. That if a mother is good enough to anticipate and meet an infant's needs, they will grow well."
"Oh." Her stance visibly relaxed. "All right, then."
"But there is no concept of a good enough father," Loki continued, brows furrowed in thought. "I have looked into the research done on this realm, as Rose seems more like a human infant, and there is no research into a father's place for them."
Natasha moved to sit at the foot of her bed. Other than looking contemplative, Loki visibly didn't show emotion regarding the research. She could hear it in his voice, however. Either he was becoming more transparent with her, or she was getting enough practice in gauging others' emotions again. Perhaps both.
"I understand that mothers carry a child and feed it, provide care and comfort and sustenance," Loki said, putting the Starkpad aside. "But do fathers care so little on this realm? Do they count for nothing past conception?"
"The way research works," Natasha began carefully, "is that they ask a question and then look into it. I think they research mothers more because of the risk of postpartum depression and how that would impact development."
"Don't fathers carry the risk of depression in such a time?"
"I don't know. If they do, the risk is probably lower than that of a mother. So much more can go wrong with her physically."
Loki nodded, agreeing with that logic. "There are no guidelines in human research, then. No way to tell if I am being a good enough father."
"You're not willing to ask Frigga about that, are you?" Natasha asked wryly.
"I had nursemaids for immediate needs," Loki replied slowly. "If there were difficulties in diet or dress or a small injury, I did not go to Frigga. Certainly not to Odin."
Natasha remained silent for a moment, considering this piece of information. "What happened to your nurse, then?"
"Dismissed when I was out of small clothes. I no longer had need of her."
She could hear the odd note in his voice, and she reached out to touch his ankle. "Maybe not need, but you wanted her there."
"Frigga had to learn what treats I enjoyed or worked best after bad dreams," Loki said in a dismissive tone. "But that is such a small thing."
"But an important thing." Natasha scooted forward. "And you want to be that for Rose. You want to know those kinds of things."
"Having an infant on this realm is different than on Asgard," Loki murmured. "That realm is barred to me. I should follow Midgard's example if I am to live here."
She nodded and stroked the back of Rose's head gently. "You're good with her," she offered in a soft voice. "I think you're a good enough father."
"For now," he murmured, offering her the baby. "But when she grows and realizes who her father is..."
"This bothers you," Natasha observed, taking Rose. She was sleeping deeply enough that it didn't wake her, and she cradled her daughter in her arms. "You don't want her knowing that you attempted genocide twice."
"Once," Loki corrected. "It was not to be genocide on this realm. It was to conquer, to rule. To have a place, and I would have been far more benevolent than those the Chitauri normally answered to."
This was the first Natasha had heard of such a thing, and her gaze sharpened. "So you want to be better for her sake. Not your own."
"I would have her regard," Loki murmured, looking at their sleeping daughter. "I would have yours, as well," he added, looking up at her.
Feeling uncomfortable, Natasha rose and put Rose in the bassinet to sleep. "Mine."
"I still desire you," Loki said in a hushed tone. "Same as before."
"Loki..."
"I say this not with the intent to force your hand," he said quickly, obviously interpreting her movements as rejection. "I say this because we were going to be honest with each other. The birth of our child did not erase my regard for you."
Natasha turned and looked at Loki. Though her face was impassive, her heartbeat sped up. Loki sat up straight, his vulnerable expression in place. "I don't have any interest in that." He sucked in a breath, and she realized how that sounded. "It's not you. I have no interest in sex with anyone right now. I'm too tired, too occupied with Rose, too... It's too much of a bother right now."
Loki held out his hand for her, a little uncertainly. She took it and let him draw her closer to the bed. "I will not force your hand," he repeated. "I tell you of my interest so you know it is there, should you be willing again. I have made my interest in a union known to you often enough." He shook his head when she opened her mouth to speak. "You know of my interest. If you return it, it will be there still."
She sighed and brushed her fingers across his cheek. "Maybe it won't come back, I don't know. It's not important to me right now." She looked back toward Rose. "While she's asleep, I should go use the pump." Natasha vaguely gestured toward her chest. "I can set up a bottle in advance or something."
"Or perhaps, I may relieve your discomfort?"
He flushed a little when she looked at him incredulously. "I am curious," he admitted, and gently traced her ribcage with his fingertips. "And it might be one of the few ways you would allow me to touch you again."
Aware of how much he was exposing himself to her, Natasha nodded slowly. "All right, then." She pulled off her tank top and tossed it aside, exposing her full breasts.
Loki slid his hands around to her back and gently placed his mouth over one nipple. It took a moment before he copied Rose's mouth placement, then started to suck. Natasha slid a hand around the back of his head, bracing him slightly. She looked at him expectantly when he pulled back to laugh. "It's sweet," he said, looking up at her. "I've always enjoyed sweets."
"Really?"
"There were two hundred cooks at the palace. As a boy, one of them was expressly devoted to preparing cakes and sweets. I may have disproportionately eaten most of them before dinners and festivals."
Natasha laughed along with him, and that turned into a gasp when he put his mouth back to her. Loki suckled her, gentler than Rose did, but she could feel the milk let down. He let go once that breast seemed to empty, and looked up at her with desire in his eyes. "I still hunger for you," he said, voice thick with need. Before she could answer, he moved to her other breast and began to suckle again.
She cradled his head, her breath caught in her throat as something almost like desire stirred deep in her belly. His hands spread wide across her back, holding onto her tightly but not painfully, and Natasha closed her eyes. She caressed his skull, her fingers sliding through his soft hair, her other hand sliding down the skin of his neck.
When he let go, her chest no longer aching from the fullness of milk, Loki licked his lips and looked up her. He would be satisfied with that, she realized. If she pushed him away, he would accept it and leave her alone, probably jerking himself off in private. Natasha didn't want him to leave, didn't want him feeling alone and unwanted.
"Take off your clothes," she said, a slight rasp to her voice.
"But you didn't want me to-"
"It's not about me right now."
Loki frowned slightly, but stripped himself completely bare. She could see his erection, still mostly soft. "Natasha," he began uncertainly.
"Lie down," she commanded. To her surprise, he did so quickly, only too willingly, as if he needed directions. As he settled on top of her comforter, the thought came to her that perhaps this was so. Their entire liaison had been at her initiative. He hadn't rebelled so hard against the cuffs restricting his magic. He had been a good son and prince of Asgard until he discovered his true heritage and Odin fell into the Odinsleep. Loki had done everything expected of him until that moment. If Odin had still been there to direct him, would Loki have gone off the deep end? Had he gone to excess because no one was there to rein him in?
It was a scary thought. He had no internal moral compass whatsoever if that was the case, no sense of right or wrong if not told explicitly.
His breath caught when she sat beside him on the bed and grasped his cock firmly. "Don't touch me," she told him sternly. It was a tone she imagined that a parent would take with a child, and Loki responded to it. "You can look, but don't touch."
"Natasha," he began in a strangled voice as he grasped the comforter tightly. "What are you doing?"
"Isn't it obvious?" she asked, stroking his cock slowly. "Just because I don't feel like having sex doesn't mean that you don't."
"But you don't have to," he said, voice fracturing.
"I know," she said, lips curling into a slight smile. "But you like it."
"Of course I do." His eyes fluttered shut for a moment as her palm grazed his balls. "I like your touch, Natasha."
"Because you have regard for me," she said, a sultry edge to her tone. Ah, she still had it. The ability to draw up the seductress was still there, just slumbering inside the mother overlay. She hadn't lost herself just by having a child, then. It was like adding on another cover identity, another aspect of her personality waking up.
"Yes," he murmured, opening his eyes to look at her. Loki looked at her eyes, not her bared breasts, and she could see he meant it.
"What about this realm? Do you regard this place?"
"Because you're from here?" he asked, breath hitching slightly. "Because my daughter was born here?"
"Well, do you?" She asked, sliding her fingers down the length of him and gently scratching at his perineum.
"I would protect her homeland, if that's what you're asking. I would protect you from the dangers of other realms." He groaned when she slid the foreskin back and swirled the precome across the tip of his cock without breaking eye contact. "Is this what you mean?"
"Something must matter to you, Loki. Why go on otherwise?"
"I could say power and prestige."
Natasha slid her hand down and cupped his balls. "You could. But I don't think that's entirely accurate. What's power without an audience? Who would give you prestige? Who would value your efforts?"
"It doesn't matter on this realm. They view me as monster."
"You could change that. If you wanted to. If this realm really mattered to you."
"Look at you," he gasped, lips stretched in a smile. "Offering me pleasures in exchange for safety."
Loki groaned in near-pain when she grabbed his cock and squeezed tightly. "We're having a conversation, Loki. We never talked about this before, did we?" He shook his head, and Natasha was almost stunned to realize he wasn't letting go of her comforter. He was still following the rule she set down for this encounter.
"Now," Natasha began as she let go of him. "We've never really talked about anything truly serious in the beginning. And then after I got pregnant, it was mostly about the baby and what was happening with her. But she's here now, and she's healthy, and she's going to grow up on this world."
"I'd keep it safe for her," Loki promised.
"But if anything ever happened to her. Or to me... Would you destroy it then? Would the people you don't know matter to you? When you first arrived on earth, you killed eighty people in two days. They didn't matter to you. They were a means to an end."
"Why do they matter to you?" he asked, confused.
Lack of moral compass, she realized. He really had no idea why innumerable innocents mattered, why it was more than an abstract concept. He killed so easily because they weren't real to him. They were like paper dolls, easily torn and set aside when he had no use for them.
"People matter. Lives matter." Her voice was soft, lulling. "I was trained when I was young to be a weapon. To use everything about myself to get the job done, to not care about myself as a person. It was about the mission, only the mission, getting it completed no matter the cost."
"As it should be."
"No," Natasha corrected, stroking his cock again. "Lives matter. Your own life should matter. Making a difference in the lives of others should matter. Otherwise, what's the point in living? What's the point in others looking up to you?"
Loki's grip on her comforter tightened. "I was born to lead. I was King, Natasha."
"Kingship is more than birthright," she said softly. "True kingship is earned. It's caring for the people, meeting their needs, being there when they need you."
She could almost see it when it clicked. "That's why they call him the Allfather. He was a good enough father to Asgard."
Natasha nodded and picked up the pace a little when Loki whined with need. "Do you think you could be that here? Not just protect the people because of Rose, but because they need it? Because it should be done? Because the duty to protect falls on those with the skill to do so. It's a burden, the price you pay for the power you have, but the rewards are great when it's done. You leave your mark on the world, even if no one else can see it, even if you're the only one that knows. The world will be a better place having you in it, protecting those that can't protect yourself."
"Your ledger," Loki gasped, hips jerking at her touch. "That's what you mean by wiping out your red."
She nodded, continuing to move her hand along his cock with a firmer grasp. Loki whined and writhed a bit, breath coming in short pants. "The people that turned me into a weapon never gave me a choice. And then when I could choose... I chose to prevent what happened to me from happening to others."
"You don't strike me as a victim," Loki moaned, eyes falling shut. "Those let things happen to them. You don't."
"I'll take it as a compliment."
"That was meant to be."
"So why don't you prove you can learn from your mistakes? That you can try to atone for your crimes. That you can be good enough. That you can be someone Rose is proud to call father when it's safe to."
Loki cried out when he spilled over her fist, come spurting onto his stomach. He kept his eyes shut, nearly sobbing when Natasha continued to milk his cock. "But I will fail," he said softly, finally opening his eyes to look at her. "I cannot help but fail. That kind of creature is not who I am."
Leaning forward to touch her forehead to his, Natasha sighed. "I think you can try, if you really wanted to. I think that possibility is there, hidden within you, but you're too scared to try. You're too afraid of failure, and you'd rather be a fantastic monster than fail at being good."
"Natasha..."
"You see me," she said quietly. "And I see you." She smiled sadly at his stunned expression. "We're both monsters, Loki. It's not birth that makes us so, it's the choices that we make. So you were actually Jotun and not Asgardian. That didn't invalidate everything you did or said growing up. That didn't make you a monster."
"They would see me so," he whispered. "They hunted Jotnar."
"And if they were gone, they wouldn't see you as a monster, then. They would see you as loyal to Asgard, right? Because it was just a fairy tale, just stories and faceless numbers, creatures that didn't really matter."
"Yes," he replied in a small voice.
"But that's not reality, is it? And that's not someone our daughter would be proud of. That's not someone who's earned the right to be king."
Loki shut his eyes and whimpered slightly. Natasha wondered if she was pushing him too far, if he would rebound from this angrier than ever. She had him caught in a vulnerable place and she was flaying his soul open.
"You can be better than that, Loki," she said softly. Time to sew up the wound she had created, rather than leaving him raw and empty. "You can choose, you can be better than the fairy tales. Earn the respect of others. Of your daughter."
"And you?" he rasped, eyes opening.
"I'm a tough sell," she said with a wry smile. "I respect very few people in the world, and most of them are in this building."
"So you could not feel that about me."
"I didn't say that," she corrected, straightening up. Her smile turned into a smirk. "I think you might be up to the challenge of earning my respect."
That was just the way to sell it to him, apparently. He laughed and seemed utterly relaxed, more like the descriptions of the Loki that Thor had grown up with. It wasn't even awkward to clean him up or sit in her suite afterward, almost cuddling on the couch with a movie on.
In fact, it made Natasha feel as though her future with Loki could be a positive one.
***
Loki stopped short at the sight of Frigga sitting in the common area with Rose on her lap, singing softly. He knew that song, the echo of a memory tugging at him painfully. She laughed at Rose's flails, earrings bobbing and catching the light when she bent her head down to smile and grin.
My Queen, he remembered hearing as a very small boy. This is not seemly. Let the nursemaid tend to him as is proper.
He must have moved or made a noise. Or shifting away from Rose's fist changed the angle of her peripheral vision. Frigga noticed him, turned and had the same smile on her face. "Loki. I've been playing with my granddaughter."
"You would still claim me as son, then?" he asked, feeling an odd ache in his chest.
"Of course. Come. I've sent Natasha away, if you were looking to avoid her."
"I have not been," Loki replied as he took an involuntary step forward.
Frigga brightened. "Good to hear it. She's had enough heartbreak, the poor girl."
"I assure you, her heart would not break over me."
Clucking her tongue, Frigga patted the seat beside her. Loki found himself sitting there despite his resolve not to consider her his mother. Though who was he kidding? She was his mother, would always be so, and he would forever beg for her favor.
She gave him a knowing smile as he sat stiffly beside her. "She has a difficult time accepting help from others and sees danger in every shadow."
"Because there can be."
"Oh, Loki," Frigga replied, sounding disappointed. "Rose is a darling child."
"Yes, she is," he agreed warily. Why the abrupt shift in topic?
"I hadn't expected a grandchild from you. It takes a certain amount of trust, does it not?"
"Not in the making of a child, Frigga," Loki replied icily. He didn't want to discuss his relationship with Natasha. Or lack thereof. He wasn't entirely sure what was going on between them. The challenge of it was diverting, and he found her pleasing to be sure. She was likely one of the few mortals he enjoyed spending time with, which was rather a shock considering his prior poor opinion of her.
"Don't be so deliberately obtuse," she said, an edge to her voice. It recalled her comments following poor showings at lessons. Loki immediately wanted to beg her forgiveness, and he had to literally bite his own tongue to stop himself from doing so.
"It's the keeping of the child that requires trust. The raising of it." Frigga lifted Rose to her chest, cradling the cooing infant. Loki itched to snatch his daughter away from her, but stayed his hands. "You must trust that Natasha will have Rose's best interest at heart, that other caregivers will protect your child. Yours is not a trusting nature, Loki. I am pleasantly surprised."
"Those in this tower would not willingly harm an infant."
"That wouldn't stop your belief that others will harm her to get to you. You know this wouldn't stop the fear that you were being manipulated in some way."
"Why are you here?" Loki asked icily. He didn't want to concede the point. Perhaps she knew him far better than he thought.
"Perhaps Midgardians have the right way of this," Frigga murmured softly, stroking Rose's back. "Direct involvement, rather than by proxy in the earliest years. I have some allowance now as grandmother, but even this is not looked upon with favor. Only karls would do such things."
"Do you compare me to a karl?"
"They have fewer worries."
"Different ones," Loki corrected.
There was a distinct snore from Rose in the ensuing silence, and Frigga smiled. "You sounded like that as a babe."
"I certainly did not," Loki huffed.
Frigga laughed. "I had to steal into the nursery to hold you as an infant. The nurse didn't want me there to confuse you. I wasn't supposed to nurse you, after all."
Loki was very still as he looked at Frigga. This was a story he had never heard before.
"It had not been so long from the stillbirth that the milk had dried up. I ached, and you woke up as I looked in on you. I wasn't sure what to feel, exactly..."
"Because I was a monster."
"Because I lost one son and here was another. You had been left to die of exposure, and as I looked in on you, I wondered how any mother could do such a thing. You started to cry then. Perhaps wet or cold or frightened. But I put you to my breast, and you suckled strongly." Frigga turned to face Loki, and he could see the unshed tears shining in her eyes. "In that moment, you became mine. For good or ill. I wasn't sure before then if I could do it. When your father brought you home at first, I thought it a mad plan."
Loki wanted to say that Odin wasn't his father, that they were not blood. But Frigga reached out and grasped his hand tightly, the tears starting to fall. The words dried up on his tongue unspoken.
"I didn't know if I could love you, or if I was too broken to feel anything. But I did, and you clung to me so tightly, afraid to let go. You were my son then, you're my son now. I cannot abandon you, no matter how great your crimes are."
"That's why you sent me here," Loki guessed.
"You would go mad in the cells." Frigga smiled through her tears and gave a soft huff of laughter. "Even if you hated being here, hated me... You would be alive. You would be of sound mind. And perhaps you could learn to atone."
"All tales said the Jotnar were monsters and should be slain. Thor wanted to slay them all," Loki said, a warble to his voice he hadn't meant to reveal. "I was born evil, was I not? All I did was prove the stories true."
Frigga sighed and shook her head gently enough not to wake Rose. "The stories were just that. Stories. Tales to make the Aesir seem brave and noble, tales to fund the coffers in time of war. And then afterward, no one saw reason to retract them."
"You say they are a lie, then," Loki asked carefully, feeling his throat constrict.
"Jotnar are no more or less than Aesir. They are different, not our people." Frigga again touched his hand, this time squeezing it tightly. "You are Aesir, Loki. We raised you as such, and this is what you are."
"With that logic, my daughter is Midgardian."
"So she is."
Loki held himself very still. Why was he even arguing? What was he trying to prove? Of course Rose was Midgardian. That was her heritage, and this was her birth realm. He had told Natasha so not that long ago.
But then, was her other half Jotnar or Aesir?
"And right now, so are you," Frigga continued.
"What?"
"You may have been born on Jotunheim and raised on Asgard, but this is your home, Loki. This is where you will live. So you are of Midgard now." Frigga said this in a straightforward manner, as if it didn't shatter Loki in the slightest.
"Frigga…"
"So you may do things the Midgardian way, protect the mortals from themselves. The ways of Asgard would not fit well here."
"Thor is enamored with a mortal," Loki told her flatly. "You may eventually have another Midgardian grandchild."
"Oh, yes. Jane Foster. I have met her. Curious woman, questions about everything. I do believe she would learn magic if she could."
Loki stared at her. He had never asked how Frigga had known to teach him magic. He had simply assumed it was because he was too different. "Is there a way you have of sensing the potential for such a skill?"
Frigga smiled benevolently. "I know all the ørlögs of the wyrd. I can read her spá and proceed accordingly."
"Then you knew mine. You knew I would turn monstrous. I could have been stopped-"
"Your spá was far too complicated, Loki," Frigga replied, shaking her head. "It is a tangled thing, changing with the frequency of your decisions. Even now, it changes as I gaze upon you. The mortals tend to be fixed in their selves, in their decisions. So Jane's spá was easy to read. Yours is not."
"And Rose?"
Her smile was fond, and she cradled the baby against her. "I can see all the potential threads in her spá. She's a lovely girl. She will make you and Natasha proud indeed." She stroked Rose's hair. "There is a strong potential for magic in her. It can be nurtured well, and perhaps someday I could teach her the ways of the wyrd."
Loki wanted to say that no, he would be Rose's only teacher. But he wasn't a patient man and even now had little affinity for the spá magicks or working his way through the runes. "That is strong indeed," he murmured, making no promises.
But Frigga seemed to understand what he wasn't willing to say. "I look forward to the day we see her full potential."
"As do I," Loki murmured, hope blotting out some of his anger.
Maybe he could be worthy of Rose yet.
***
***
Author: Eustacia Vye
Author's e-mail: eustacia_vye28@hotmail.com
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Loki/Natasha
Disclaimer: Not mine! Some comic backstory is incorporated into characterizations, but this is still primarily movieverse.
Spoilers/Warnings: Post-Avengers, AU to Thor 2.
This is the fault of phoenixrising06/
romanovasledger during all of our characterization discussions. Still, not sorry for this. :)
Summary: Natasha and Loki had a thing, no emotions or strings attached. Until they accidentally created one.
Prior chapters:
One - Accidents
Two - Decisions
Three - Bindings
Four - Fears
Five - Confidences
Six - Stories
"Loki seems to be doing all right with Rose," Steve commented when Natasha joined the others in the gym. Doing yoga alone in her suite wasn't as fulfilling as working with the others, though she was somewhat deconditioned from months without the hard training she had been used to.
"He's getting used to her. It probably helps that she's not quite as young as before."
"Six weeks, right?" Bruce asked, not stopping from his own yoga routine.
"Yes," she confirmed as she took off her shoes and put her towel over them. Her own six week checkup was in a few days, and she felt well enough to be cleared for all of her usual activities. That usually included sex, but she currently had zero interest in using her body in sexual ways.
"Now, she's growing like a human baby, right?" Sam asked beneath the barbell he was lifting. Steve was spotting him, and alongside them Clint was working with free weights. Tony was nowhere to be seen, and Carol was doing stretches near Bruce.
"So far," Natasha said, joining Bruce and Carol in the area of the gym they were working in. "There doesn't seem to be any difference in her growth pattern just because she's half alien, and the pediatrician's run several ultrasounds by now."
"You don't even really notice the blue tinge to her skin," Carol commented. "Well, until I pick her up, and then the blue in my costume just brings it right out."
"We'll pretend your outfit's glowing," Steve called out.
"Your outfit's just as blue," she snarked back.
"I haven't worn it while trying to hold her."
"Just your old man threads," Sam commented as he racked the barbell. He laughed when Steve swatted his head. "The leather jacket's fine, but all that plaid? You should've let us update your wardrobe."
"There's nothing wrong with my clothes!"
"Sure. For a ninety-five year old man," Clint joined in, grinning.
"Is this attack the Captain day?" Steve asked, grinning at the good natured ribbing.
"Just that Captain!" Carol replied.
Natasha had missed this, and didn't even drop her fond smile when Bruce looked in her direction. "Hey, I'm sure you'll be back out in the field in no time."
"It's all right. I'm used to hard work. I'll get back into more rigorous training once I'm cleared for it," Natasha assured him.
Carol eyed her split and then how far she could bend over her leg. "Ye-ah, I don't think you'll need that long to get back into action," she drawled. "Damn, that's flexible."
"I can do yoga and free weights, so that's what I've been doing," Natasha replied with a shrug, still holding her ankle. Her chest was pressed right against her right knee, her left leg stretched completely out behind her. "My doctor thought serious sparring would be too much for me."
"Considering how acrobatic you are?" Carol replied, shaking her head. "I've seen the video and I can believe it. I mean, six weeks out from delivery and you don't look like you've had a baby at all. I haven't had a baby and I can't do a full front split like that."
"Don't feel bad, I've been training since I was nearly six years old."
Natasha could almost feel Clint's gape and stare. She didn't allude to the Red Room if she could help it. Ever. He didn't even know the details, but he knew many Bad Things had happened if she ever failed her training or her missions. He knew that various kinds of memory modification, personality overlays and heavy duty drugs were used to keep the girls of the Red Room compliant with their masters.
"So you meant it in India," Bruce commented. "When you said you started that young?"
"Yes," Natasha agreed, shifting her pose so that her left leg was in front of her and her right was behind her. "Innocuous things at first, then deadlier."
Steve put down the barbell he was about to lift. "You okay with mentioning it?" he asked, brows knit in concern.
Moving to sit in the lotus position, Natasha thought about it. She weighed her past against his concern, against the others' concern and curiosity. "Some of it," she decided finally. "It's level nine or ten clearance, most of it, and would be part of the redacted portions of my personnel file if you ever tried to find it. But some of it I might be willing to talk about." She let out a slow breath. "If only because I want you to stop me from potentially doing any of those things with Rose."
"Somehow, I don't think you'd torture your own daughter," Clint commented, moving to sit nearby. "And you'd never allow anyone else to."
"I'd slit their throats," Natasha replied immediately.
"And that's not creepy at all," Bruce commented wryly. But he didn't edge away from her, didn't shift his posture or facial expression.
"Spy parenting," Sam replied, plopping down next to Clint and waving Steve over with an exaggerated arm motion. "C'mon, old man. Join the coffee clutch."
They all sat in a rough circle, Natasha seated between Bruce and Clint. Still, it didn't feel like she was being singled out to talk, like she was being judged and found wanting because of her past in the Red Room.
She wanted to tell them about it, she realized suddenly. She wanted them to know why she was so hesitant to trust, why emotions were frightening, why she always had to push herself so hard. If they knew about that, if they knew her secret self buried beneath her covers, they could help her. They could keep her safe, keep Rose safe, help her balance her ledger.
They didn't need to know details, like the weight of the Makarov in her palm at age seven, the look on the face of the first kill she made with it. They didn't need to know how she hollowed herself out to survive, how the mask developed or why. But she told them how the girls all competed to be the best, because that was how they would be fed and clothed and kept warm at night. The losers of contests were punished with absence of these things, and they were all forced to compete for limited resources. She told them how the coiling fear in her gut was a familiar feeling throughout her lifetime, that it kept her sharp and aware of her surroundings. It saved her from a knife in the gut at age nine. It kept her alert when in isolation for 72 hours after breaking an instructor's arm. She told them about the tests out in the field, about crafting layers of truth around herself before hitting puberty because it kept her alive.
And they listened, questioned to clarify, and didn't judge. There was no pity when they looked at her, no edging away or thinking she was horrible. They didn't question her need for a ledger, but did tell her it was unnecessary.
Natasha felt just as exhausted as if she had trained hard for hours, but she also felt lighter. Her chest wasn't so tight, as if her spirit wanted to stretch beyond the reach of her bones and split her skin. The Red Room didn't weigh her down so heavily, didn't prey on her as much. Most of the time she didn't think about that, but Rose's birth had forced her to come to grips with how she was raised. She had no positive role models, after all, only negative ones, though Carol pointed out it was just important to have those, too. "You know what not to do, and there will be plenty of people hanging around to help tell you what to do."
"Kids are resilient, you know," Bruce offered helpfully.
"And forgiving," Clint said with a half smile in her direction. "You'll be okay."
Maybe Natasha could believe it. And just maybe, she could begin to forgive herself for the past she couldn't help but have.
***
"I have been reading the research done on this realm," Loki said abruptly. He was lying on Natasha's bed, Rose sleeping on his chest calmly. He had one hand braced on her back to keep her balanced there, the other held the Starkpad he had been looking at. Natasha hadn't discussed her checkup with him, but was starting to ease into her prior exercise and sparring routine with the others.
"And?" she asked, slipping on a pair of jeans. She was freshly showered after a light session in the gym with Sam.
"There is the concept of a good enough mother."
Natasha frowned as she buttoned up the top. "I'm doing badly, aren't I?"
"On the contrary. The research indicates that there is no need to generate anxiety about reaching utter perfection when it doesn't exist. Meeting her needs as she has them, making her feel secure... that is the 'good enough' that the research discusses. That if a mother is good enough to anticipate and meet an infant's needs, they will grow well."
"Oh." Her stance visibly relaxed. "All right, then."
"But there is no concept of a good enough father," Loki continued, brows furrowed in thought. "I have looked into the research done on this realm, as Rose seems more like a human infant, and there is no research into a father's place for them."
Natasha moved to sit at the foot of her bed. Other than looking contemplative, Loki visibly didn't show emotion regarding the research. She could hear it in his voice, however. Either he was becoming more transparent with her, or she was getting enough practice in gauging others' emotions again. Perhaps both.
"I understand that mothers carry a child and feed it, provide care and comfort and sustenance," Loki said, putting the Starkpad aside. "But do fathers care so little on this realm? Do they count for nothing past conception?"
"The way research works," Natasha began carefully, "is that they ask a question and then look into it. I think they research mothers more because of the risk of postpartum depression and how that would impact development."
"Don't fathers carry the risk of depression in such a time?"
"I don't know. If they do, the risk is probably lower than that of a mother. So much more can go wrong with her physically."
Loki nodded, agreeing with that logic. "There are no guidelines in human research, then. No way to tell if I am being a good enough father."
"You're not willing to ask Frigga about that, are you?" Natasha asked wryly.
"I had nursemaids for immediate needs," Loki replied slowly. "If there were difficulties in diet or dress or a small injury, I did not go to Frigga. Certainly not to Odin."
Natasha remained silent for a moment, considering this piece of information. "What happened to your nurse, then?"
"Dismissed when I was out of small clothes. I no longer had need of her."
She could hear the odd note in his voice, and she reached out to touch his ankle. "Maybe not need, but you wanted her there."
"Frigga had to learn what treats I enjoyed or worked best after bad dreams," Loki said in a dismissive tone. "But that is such a small thing."
"But an important thing." Natasha scooted forward. "And you want to be that for Rose. You want to know those kinds of things."
"Having an infant on this realm is different than on Asgard," Loki murmured. "That realm is barred to me. I should follow Midgard's example if I am to live here."
She nodded and stroked the back of Rose's head gently. "You're good with her," she offered in a soft voice. "I think you're a good enough father."
"For now," he murmured, offering her the baby. "But when she grows and realizes who her father is..."
"This bothers you," Natasha observed, taking Rose. She was sleeping deeply enough that it didn't wake her, and she cradled her daughter in her arms. "You don't want her knowing that you attempted genocide twice."
"Once," Loki corrected. "It was not to be genocide on this realm. It was to conquer, to rule. To have a place, and I would have been far more benevolent than those the Chitauri normally answered to."
This was the first Natasha had heard of such a thing, and her gaze sharpened. "So you want to be better for her sake. Not your own."
"I would have her regard," Loki murmured, looking at their sleeping daughter. "I would have yours, as well," he added, looking up at her.
Feeling uncomfortable, Natasha rose and put Rose in the bassinet to sleep. "Mine."
"I still desire you," Loki said in a hushed tone. "Same as before."
"Loki..."
"I say this not with the intent to force your hand," he said quickly, obviously interpreting her movements as rejection. "I say this because we were going to be honest with each other. The birth of our child did not erase my regard for you."
Natasha turned and looked at Loki. Though her face was impassive, her heartbeat sped up. Loki sat up straight, his vulnerable expression in place. "I don't have any interest in that." He sucked in a breath, and she realized how that sounded. "It's not you. I have no interest in sex with anyone right now. I'm too tired, too occupied with Rose, too... It's too much of a bother right now."
Loki held out his hand for her, a little uncertainly. She took it and let him draw her closer to the bed. "I will not force your hand," he repeated. "I tell you of my interest so you know it is there, should you be willing again. I have made my interest in a union known to you often enough." He shook his head when she opened her mouth to speak. "You know of my interest. If you return it, it will be there still."
She sighed and brushed her fingers across his cheek. "Maybe it won't come back, I don't know. It's not important to me right now." She looked back toward Rose. "While she's asleep, I should go use the pump." Natasha vaguely gestured toward her chest. "I can set up a bottle in advance or something."
"Or perhaps, I may relieve your discomfort?"
He flushed a little when she looked at him incredulously. "I am curious," he admitted, and gently traced her ribcage with his fingertips. "And it might be one of the few ways you would allow me to touch you again."
Aware of how much he was exposing himself to her, Natasha nodded slowly. "All right, then." She pulled off her tank top and tossed it aside, exposing her full breasts.
Loki slid his hands around to her back and gently placed his mouth over one nipple. It took a moment before he copied Rose's mouth placement, then started to suck. Natasha slid a hand around the back of his head, bracing him slightly. She looked at him expectantly when he pulled back to laugh. "It's sweet," he said, looking up at her. "I've always enjoyed sweets."
"Really?"
"There were two hundred cooks at the palace. As a boy, one of them was expressly devoted to preparing cakes and sweets. I may have disproportionately eaten most of them before dinners and festivals."
Natasha laughed along with him, and that turned into a gasp when he put his mouth back to her. Loki suckled her, gentler than Rose did, but she could feel the milk let down. He let go once that breast seemed to empty, and looked up at her with desire in his eyes. "I still hunger for you," he said, voice thick with need. Before she could answer, he moved to her other breast and began to suckle again.
She cradled his head, her breath caught in her throat as something almost like desire stirred deep in her belly. His hands spread wide across her back, holding onto her tightly but not painfully, and Natasha closed her eyes. She caressed his skull, her fingers sliding through his soft hair, her other hand sliding down the skin of his neck.
When he let go, her chest no longer aching from the fullness of milk, Loki licked his lips and looked up her. He would be satisfied with that, she realized. If she pushed him away, he would accept it and leave her alone, probably jerking himself off in private. Natasha didn't want him to leave, didn't want him feeling alone and unwanted.
"Take off your clothes," she said, a slight rasp to her voice.
"But you didn't want me to-"
"It's not about me right now."
Loki frowned slightly, but stripped himself completely bare. She could see his erection, still mostly soft. "Natasha," he began uncertainly.
"Lie down," she commanded. To her surprise, he did so quickly, only too willingly, as if he needed directions. As he settled on top of her comforter, the thought came to her that perhaps this was so. Their entire liaison had been at her initiative. He hadn't rebelled so hard against the cuffs restricting his magic. He had been a good son and prince of Asgard until he discovered his true heritage and Odin fell into the Odinsleep. Loki had done everything expected of him until that moment. If Odin had still been there to direct him, would Loki have gone off the deep end? Had he gone to excess because no one was there to rein him in?
It was a scary thought. He had no internal moral compass whatsoever if that was the case, no sense of right or wrong if not told explicitly.
His breath caught when she sat beside him on the bed and grasped his cock firmly. "Don't touch me," she told him sternly. It was a tone she imagined that a parent would take with a child, and Loki responded to it. "You can look, but don't touch."
"Natasha," he began in a strangled voice as he grasped the comforter tightly. "What are you doing?"
"Isn't it obvious?" she asked, stroking his cock slowly. "Just because I don't feel like having sex doesn't mean that you don't."
"But you don't have to," he said, voice fracturing.
"I know," she said, lips curling into a slight smile. "But you like it."
"Of course I do." His eyes fluttered shut for a moment as her palm grazed his balls. "I like your touch, Natasha."
"Because you have regard for me," she said, a sultry edge to her tone. Ah, she still had it. The ability to draw up the seductress was still there, just slumbering inside the mother overlay. She hadn't lost herself just by having a child, then. It was like adding on another cover identity, another aspect of her personality waking up.
"Yes," he murmured, opening his eyes to look at her. Loki looked at her eyes, not her bared breasts, and she could see he meant it.
"What about this realm? Do you regard this place?"
"Because you're from here?" he asked, breath hitching slightly. "Because my daughter was born here?"
"Well, do you?" She asked, sliding her fingers down the length of him and gently scratching at his perineum.
"I would protect her homeland, if that's what you're asking. I would protect you from the dangers of other realms." He groaned when she slid the foreskin back and swirled the precome across the tip of his cock without breaking eye contact. "Is this what you mean?"
"Something must matter to you, Loki. Why go on otherwise?"
"I could say power and prestige."
Natasha slid her hand down and cupped his balls. "You could. But I don't think that's entirely accurate. What's power without an audience? Who would give you prestige? Who would value your efforts?"
"It doesn't matter on this realm. They view me as monster."
"You could change that. If you wanted to. If this realm really mattered to you."
"Look at you," he gasped, lips stretched in a smile. "Offering me pleasures in exchange for safety."
Loki groaned in near-pain when she grabbed his cock and squeezed tightly. "We're having a conversation, Loki. We never talked about this before, did we?" He shook his head, and Natasha was almost stunned to realize he wasn't letting go of her comforter. He was still following the rule she set down for this encounter.
"Now," Natasha began as she let go of him. "We've never really talked about anything truly serious in the beginning. And then after I got pregnant, it was mostly about the baby and what was happening with her. But she's here now, and she's healthy, and she's going to grow up on this world."
"I'd keep it safe for her," Loki promised.
"But if anything ever happened to her. Or to me... Would you destroy it then? Would the people you don't know matter to you? When you first arrived on earth, you killed eighty people in two days. They didn't matter to you. They were a means to an end."
"Why do they matter to you?" he asked, confused.
Lack of moral compass, she realized. He really had no idea why innumerable innocents mattered, why it was more than an abstract concept. He killed so easily because they weren't real to him. They were like paper dolls, easily torn and set aside when he had no use for them.
"People matter. Lives matter." Her voice was soft, lulling. "I was trained when I was young to be a weapon. To use everything about myself to get the job done, to not care about myself as a person. It was about the mission, only the mission, getting it completed no matter the cost."
"As it should be."
"No," Natasha corrected, stroking his cock again. "Lives matter. Your own life should matter. Making a difference in the lives of others should matter. Otherwise, what's the point in living? What's the point in others looking up to you?"
Loki's grip on her comforter tightened. "I was born to lead. I was King, Natasha."
"Kingship is more than birthright," she said softly. "True kingship is earned. It's caring for the people, meeting their needs, being there when they need you."
She could almost see it when it clicked. "That's why they call him the Allfather. He was a good enough father to Asgard."
Natasha nodded and picked up the pace a little when Loki whined with need. "Do you think you could be that here? Not just protect the people because of Rose, but because they need it? Because it should be done? Because the duty to protect falls on those with the skill to do so. It's a burden, the price you pay for the power you have, but the rewards are great when it's done. You leave your mark on the world, even if no one else can see it, even if you're the only one that knows. The world will be a better place having you in it, protecting those that can't protect yourself."
"Your ledger," Loki gasped, hips jerking at her touch. "That's what you mean by wiping out your red."
She nodded, continuing to move her hand along his cock with a firmer grasp. Loki whined and writhed a bit, breath coming in short pants. "The people that turned me into a weapon never gave me a choice. And then when I could choose... I chose to prevent what happened to me from happening to others."
"You don't strike me as a victim," Loki moaned, eyes falling shut. "Those let things happen to them. You don't."
"I'll take it as a compliment."
"That was meant to be."
"So why don't you prove you can learn from your mistakes? That you can try to atone for your crimes. That you can be good enough. That you can be someone Rose is proud to call father when it's safe to."
Loki cried out when he spilled over her fist, come spurting onto his stomach. He kept his eyes shut, nearly sobbing when Natasha continued to milk his cock. "But I will fail," he said softly, finally opening his eyes to look at her. "I cannot help but fail. That kind of creature is not who I am."
Leaning forward to touch her forehead to his, Natasha sighed. "I think you can try, if you really wanted to. I think that possibility is there, hidden within you, but you're too scared to try. You're too afraid of failure, and you'd rather be a fantastic monster than fail at being good."
"Natasha..."
"You see me," she said quietly. "And I see you." She smiled sadly at his stunned expression. "We're both monsters, Loki. It's not birth that makes us so, it's the choices that we make. So you were actually Jotun and not Asgardian. That didn't invalidate everything you did or said growing up. That didn't make you a monster."
"They would see me so," he whispered. "They hunted Jotnar."
"And if they were gone, they wouldn't see you as a monster, then. They would see you as loyal to Asgard, right? Because it was just a fairy tale, just stories and faceless numbers, creatures that didn't really matter."
"Yes," he replied in a small voice.
"But that's not reality, is it? And that's not someone our daughter would be proud of. That's not someone who's earned the right to be king."
Loki shut his eyes and whimpered slightly. Natasha wondered if she was pushing him too far, if he would rebound from this angrier than ever. She had him caught in a vulnerable place and she was flaying his soul open.
"You can be better than that, Loki," she said softly. Time to sew up the wound she had created, rather than leaving him raw and empty. "You can choose, you can be better than the fairy tales. Earn the respect of others. Of your daughter."
"And you?" he rasped, eyes opening.
"I'm a tough sell," she said with a wry smile. "I respect very few people in the world, and most of them are in this building."
"So you could not feel that about me."
"I didn't say that," she corrected, straightening up. Her smile turned into a smirk. "I think you might be up to the challenge of earning my respect."
That was just the way to sell it to him, apparently. He laughed and seemed utterly relaxed, more like the descriptions of the Loki that Thor had grown up with. It wasn't even awkward to clean him up or sit in her suite afterward, almost cuddling on the couch with a movie on.
In fact, it made Natasha feel as though her future with Loki could be a positive one.
***
Loki stopped short at the sight of Frigga sitting in the common area with Rose on her lap, singing softly. He knew that song, the echo of a memory tugging at him painfully. She laughed at Rose's flails, earrings bobbing and catching the light when she bent her head down to smile and grin.
My Queen, he remembered hearing as a very small boy. This is not seemly. Let the nursemaid tend to him as is proper.
He must have moved or made a noise. Or shifting away from Rose's fist changed the angle of her peripheral vision. Frigga noticed him, turned and had the same smile on her face. "Loki. I've been playing with my granddaughter."
"You would still claim me as son, then?" he asked, feeling an odd ache in his chest.
"Of course. Come. I've sent Natasha away, if you were looking to avoid her."
"I have not been," Loki replied as he took an involuntary step forward.
Frigga brightened. "Good to hear it. She's had enough heartbreak, the poor girl."
"I assure you, her heart would not break over me."
Clucking her tongue, Frigga patted the seat beside her. Loki found himself sitting there despite his resolve not to consider her his mother. Though who was he kidding? She was his mother, would always be so, and he would forever beg for her favor.
She gave him a knowing smile as he sat stiffly beside her. "She has a difficult time accepting help from others and sees danger in every shadow."
"Because there can be."
"Oh, Loki," Frigga replied, sounding disappointed. "Rose is a darling child."
"Yes, she is," he agreed warily. Why the abrupt shift in topic?
"I hadn't expected a grandchild from you. It takes a certain amount of trust, does it not?"
"Not in the making of a child, Frigga," Loki replied icily. He didn't want to discuss his relationship with Natasha. Or lack thereof. He wasn't entirely sure what was going on between them. The challenge of it was diverting, and he found her pleasing to be sure. She was likely one of the few mortals he enjoyed spending time with, which was rather a shock considering his prior poor opinion of her.
"Don't be so deliberately obtuse," she said, an edge to her voice. It recalled her comments following poor showings at lessons. Loki immediately wanted to beg her forgiveness, and he had to literally bite his own tongue to stop himself from doing so.
"It's the keeping of the child that requires trust. The raising of it." Frigga lifted Rose to her chest, cradling the cooing infant. Loki itched to snatch his daughter away from her, but stayed his hands. "You must trust that Natasha will have Rose's best interest at heart, that other caregivers will protect your child. Yours is not a trusting nature, Loki. I am pleasantly surprised."
"Those in this tower would not willingly harm an infant."
"That wouldn't stop your belief that others will harm her to get to you. You know this wouldn't stop the fear that you were being manipulated in some way."
"Why are you here?" Loki asked icily. He didn't want to concede the point. Perhaps she knew him far better than he thought.
"Perhaps Midgardians have the right way of this," Frigga murmured softly, stroking Rose's back. "Direct involvement, rather than by proxy in the earliest years. I have some allowance now as grandmother, but even this is not looked upon with favor. Only karls would do such things."
"Do you compare me to a karl?"
"They have fewer worries."
"Different ones," Loki corrected.
There was a distinct snore from Rose in the ensuing silence, and Frigga smiled. "You sounded like that as a babe."
"I certainly did not," Loki huffed.
Frigga laughed. "I had to steal into the nursery to hold you as an infant. The nurse didn't want me there to confuse you. I wasn't supposed to nurse you, after all."
Loki was very still as he looked at Frigga. This was a story he had never heard before.
"It had not been so long from the stillbirth that the milk had dried up. I ached, and you woke up as I looked in on you. I wasn't sure what to feel, exactly..."
"Because I was a monster."
"Because I lost one son and here was another. You had been left to die of exposure, and as I looked in on you, I wondered how any mother could do such a thing. You started to cry then. Perhaps wet or cold or frightened. But I put you to my breast, and you suckled strongly." Frigga turned to face Loki, and he could see the unshed tears shining in her eyes. "In that moment, you became mine. For good or ill. I wasn't sure before then if I could do it. When your father brought you home at first, I thought it a mad plan."
Loki wanted to say that Odin wasn't his father, that they were not blood. But Frigga reached out and grasped his hand tightly, the tears starting to fall. The words dried up on his tongue unspoken.
"I didn't know if I could love you, or if I was too broken to feel anything. But I did, and you clung to me so tightly, afraid to let go. You were my son then, you're my son now. I cannot abandon you, no matter how great your crimes are."
"That's why you sent me here," Loki guessed.
"You would go mad in the cells." Frigga smiled through her tears and gave a soft huff of laughter. "Even if you hated being here, hated me... You would be alive. You would be of sound mind. And perhaps you could learn to atone."
"All tales said the Jotnar were monsters and should be slain. Thor wanted to slay them all," Loki said, a warble to his voice he hadn't meant to reveal. "I was born evil, was I not? All I did was prove the stories true."
Frigga sighed and shook her head gently enough not to wake Rose. "The stories were just that. Stories. Tales to make the Aesir seem brave and noble, tales to fund the coffers in time of war. And then afterward, no one saw reason to retract them."
"You say they are a lie, then," Loki asked carefully, feeling his throat constrict.
"Jotnar are no more or less than Aesir. They are different, not our people." Frigga again touched his hand, this time squeezing it tightly. "You are Aesir, Loki. We raised you as such, and this is what you are."
"With that logic, my daughter is Midgardian."
"So she is."
Loki held himself very still. Why was he even arguing? What was he trying to prove? Of course Rose was Midgardian. That was her heritage, and this was her birth realm. He had told Natasha so not that long ago.
But then, was her other half Jotnar or Aesir?
"And right now, so are you," Frigga continued.
"What?"
"You may have been born on Jotunheim and raised on Asgard, but this is your home, Loki. This is where you will live. So you are of Midgard now." Frigga said this in a straightforward manner, as if it didn't shatter Loki in the slightest.
"Frigga…"
"So you may do things the Midgardian way, protect the mortals from themselves. The ways of Asgard would not fit well here."
"Thor is enamored with a mortal," Loki told her flatly. "You may eventually have another Midgardian grandchild."
"Oh, yes. Jane Foster. I have met her. Curious woman, questions about everything. I do believe she would learn magic if she could."
Loki stared at her. He had never asked how Frigga had known to teach him magic. He had simply assumed it was because he was too different. "Is there a way you have of sensing the potential for such a skill?"
Frigga smiled benevolently. "I know all the ørlögs of the wyrd. I can read her spá and proceed accordingly."
"Then you knew mine. You knew I would turn monstrous. I could have been stopped-"
"Your spá was far too complicated, Loki," Frigga replied, shaking her head. "It is a tangled thing, changing with the frequency of your decisions. Even now, it changes as I gaze upon you. The mortals tend to be fixed in their selves, in their decisions. So Jane's spá was easy to read. Yours is not."
"And Rose?"
Her smile was fond, and she cradled the baby against her. "I can see all the potential threads in her spá. She's a lovely girl. She will make you and Natasha proud indeed." She stroked Rose's hair. "There is a strong potential for magic in her. It can be nurtured well, and perhaps someday I could teach her the ways of the wyrd."
Loki wanted to say that no, he would be Rose's only teacher. But he wasn't a patient man and even now had little affinity for the spá magicks or working his way through the runes. "That is strong indeed," he murmured, making no promises.
But Frigga seemed to understand what he wasn't willing to say. "I look forward to the day we see her full potential."
"As do I," Loki murmured, hope blotting out some of his anger.
Maybe he could be worthy of Rose yet.
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