Chapter 3
The working had been mighty indeed. Not only mighty as far as the sheer energy expenditure required, but quite obnoxiously complicated too. Loki had had to return to his body in order to physically bring together all of the objects needed for his (utterly unique and quite impressive) spell, and when he had finished, he had hardly had enough power left to spirit-walk back to Avengers Tower. Once inside the Tower, he had stabilized, thanks to the Ancient Laws, but it had been a near thing there for a bit. He shuddered to think that he had almost been trapped in his body at this crucial point, unable to know what the Avengers were saying and doing. He would have been a sitting mudhen, or whatever it was that people hunted on Midgard.
He had met with one tremendous stroke of luck though; the very first hospital he checked had had the one specific ingredient he had been most worried about finding. That had knocked at least an hour or possibly two or three off his task. Poor Stark had barely gotten to sleep before he was being woken up to deal with what Loki had done. Stark, in fact, had been so over-worked and undernourished (the needs of Midgardian bodies, Loki had learned, were terribly exacting) that he had hyperventilated and fallen to gasping and shaking. Loki had left then, for he had found that such episodes could be contagious.
When he had collected himself sufficiently, he discovered that his feet had carried him out into the corridors. He slowly uncurled himself from his position on the floor, and took himself back into the chambers of the National Hero. The rooms were now empty, so Loki sat down to look at the plants, feeling that their quiet company was all he was fit for at the moment.
Loki was sitting beside them, watching the gradually brightening streets beyond the high window, when he heard Roger’s even tread approaching. Still a little twitchy, he startled and knocked one of the plants with his hand. It rustled.
Oh damnation! he thought, and leapt to his feet, I’m manifesting!
This was an absolute disaster. Also, an embarrassment. He had never, never been so exhausted as to lose control of his spirit-touch while spirit-walking. And what if it wasn’t just touch that he couldn’t control? What if he became visible or audible as well? If they knew exactly where his spirit was, it was possible that even a bunch of magically ignorant primates like the Avengers could manage to trap him.
He dashed through the nearest open door, which happened to lead into the bedchamber.
Just as Loki whisked out of sight, the blond hero stepped cautiously into the living room. Loki didn’t dare to peek. He heard the footsteps come into the center of the room, and then there was a long pause.
“Loki?” Rogers called softly.
Loki squeezed his eyes shut, as if that would do the least bit of good.
The Widow and the National Hero had always been the greatest dangers to Loki’s semi-inhabitation of Avengers Tower. Both had touches of seithr of their own, or at least of Sight. Rogers, most likely due to a sickly childhood, and Romanoff, perhaps from some aspect of her outlandish early training. He had noticed each of them looking towards him on more than one occasion, when they should not have been able to see or hear anything.
Loki squeezed his fists as well as his eyes, and summoned his waning energy to hold himself completely invisible. Not a moment too soon. Rogers walked into the room. Loki could hear that Rogers had entered and then simply stood still. With his eyes closed, though, Loki had no way of knowing if the human was staring right at him, or looking idly around as before. As the silence stretched on, Loki supposed it must mean that Rogers hadn’t seen him.
But still the soldier didn’t move. Loki was tiring rapidly, and now the effort of keeping invisible was beginning to make him pant and sweat, as if he were supporting a great weight. It was utterly absurd, as obviously spirit-bodies could neither breathe nor perspire, but exhaustion had made him so muzzy-headed that he was projecting physical attributes onto his astral form, like the veriest apprentice! And, oh Hel, was his panting becoming audible?
He dared to open his eyes a slit, and saw that the soldier was indeed looking in his general direction, though not directly at him.
“Loki,” said Rogers, still softly, “Bruce thinks – ”
Then a shrill alarum sounded from the soldier’s wrist. Loki gasped in surprise and slipped into visibility, in the same instant that Rogers lifted his forearm to look at the device making the noise.
They both froze, staring wide-eyed at each other for what seemed a miniature aeon. Then Fury’s loud, hard voice crackled out of the small device, “ – engers assemble! Meet on the Tower roof, stat! We’ve got a single invader in Times Square, preliminary reports say likely Asgardian, and he’s holding the Glowstick of Destiny. Civilians kowtowing en masse, traffic snarled to hell and back, it ain’t pretty."
Rogers stared at Loki for approximately one half-second more, and then seemingly made up his mind and ran off, scooping up his shield from beside the door.
Loki lurched after him.
The roof was just two floors above them, and they both took the stairs. If Rogers could hear Loki toilsomely heaving himself up the stairs behind him, he gave no sign of it, nor did he glance back.
By the time they came out into the whipping winds, to find the others gathering around a Stark-branded flying-machine, Loki was fairly sure that he had himself reasonably well in hand. Nobody looked shocked or horrified at his advent on the scene, anyway, so that boded well.
“Where’s Tony?” Rogers called out, as they filed aboard.
Banner gave a meaningful look and shrug, “Still at his computers. He won’t come away.”
“Any hope?” Rogers asked.
Banner’s head-shake spoke volumes.
The National Hero’s mouth thinned, and he said only “Damn.”
Loki ducked his head and stepped carefully into the flying-machine after Barton. Under the Ancient Laws, all Stark property was one, so Loki could spirit-travel in these mechanical conveyances. The SHIELD-branded ones, however, left him in danger of faltering back into his body if he got tired, distracted, or bored, so he never went along with the Avengers in those, preferring instead to teleport his material body directly to the destination. Today, he most certainly would not have had the energy for that, so he was glad to see the Stark insignia on the flank of the flying-machine.
Besides trying to keep control of his spirit-body, he was also trying very hard not to panic.
The “likely Asgardian” that the Avengers were going to meet could only be Odin, who still, as far as Loki knew, owned the artifact known to Midgard as the Glowstick of Destiny. And if Odin was here, and forcing large numbers of mortals to bow to him, that could only mean that the parasitization of his mind had proceeded to the point where he was acting at the Titan’s behest.
Thor was not in the flying machine with the others (who were all now busily changing into their battle-gear). He had gone on ahead, flying by the power of Mjolnir. It was probable that he had already arrived in the Square of Times, recognized his father, spoken to him, been rebuffed, and issued some brash challenge. Odin, under the thrall of Thanos, would feel little compunction about killing his own son, and there was no question in Loki’s mind that he was quite capable of doing it. Beginning to shake again, Loki pictured the pulverized mess of muscle and bone that might be all he would find of his whilom-brother when the flying machine landed.
No, no, no. Picturing such things would make him lose control again, and he absolutely could not become visible here, surrounded by Avengers.
Loki desperately cast around for a thought to pull his mind away from what Odin might be doing to Thor. His eyes landed on the figure of the National Hero, who was doing up the fastenings of his cuirass. Why had he not mentioned his Loki-sighting yet to his comrades? What would happen when he did? Would they think to make a search of the interior of the flying machine?
That thought was not a good distraction. Loki began to pant again, and sweat spirit-sweat.
Just then the rotary parts of the flying machine started to whine, and they descended quickly, landing with a hard bump. The Square of Times was evidently very close to Avengers Tower. The back and side doors all opened at once, and Barton, Banner, Rogers, and Romanoff all sped out and away from the vehicle, fully armed and armoured, to assume their respective fighting positions. Barton and the Widow disappeared from view almost instantly, while Rogers and Banner moved at a deliberate and highly visible pace towards the threat.
Loki poked his head out of the side door, and saw what he had known he must.
There stood Odin on the side of an overturned bus. Before him was a sea of rounded lumps of all colors. Loki’s eyes quickly resolved these into the backs of several thousand Midgardians, all on their knees, pressing their foreheads to the paving stones.
Thor, red cape waving heroically, stood before Odin, his feet widely planted, Mjolnir in his grip. He was yelling, but Loki didn’t register what he was saying. It was becoming very difficult to focus on anything besides his own laborious spirit-breathing, and the wavering feeling that was beginning to creep upward from his feet.
Loki closed his eyes, and focused on forcing the feeling back down. It was dissolution, he knew. If it took over his whole spirit-body before he could return to his matter-body, he would be lost. His corporeal body might live on for some time, almost indefinitely if it were cared for, but there would be no Loki left to return to it. Ordinarily Loki would be quite safe from dissolution as long as he stayed on Stark property, due to the Ancient Laws, but in his current debilitated state even that binding was apparently not powerful enough to hold him together.
But he had to see what happened here. He had to know how close behind Odin the Titan followed.
Oh Norns, Loki thought, sitting down abruptly as he lost feeling to his feet, He could arrive today – now.
That was the wrong thing to think. Loki became visible.
Odin noticed instantly, and he brushed Thor magically away to come striding towards the flying machine.
Banner and Rogers, coming towards Odin from the flying machine, naturally thought that he was moving at them. They stepped apart and fell into their fighting stances, but no sooner had they done so than Odin slapped the air thirty paces from them, and flung them aside. They scrambled to their feet, as Thor came charging after his father.
All three seemed to notice Loki at the same moment.
“Loki!” Thor called out, but his voice was drowned under Odin’s amplified bellow.
“BEAST! WHERE IS SHE?!”
It was exactly like the old nightmare. Odin, furious beyond reason, his face twisted in hatred, bearing down on Loki, and Loki too frightened to move. In this, the waking world, it was not merely fear that held Loki paralyzed though; the dissolution had climbed nearly to his knees. Although he was visible, the feet which hung out of the side of the flying machine, and should have rested on the ground, were transparent as water and could feel nothing.
There was no point in trying to escape, nor any time to attempt it. Odin was upon him.
Odin’s hand reached out and closed solidly around Loki’s windpipe.
The hands that Loki lifted to defend himself were immaterial, as powerless as light-projections, and flailed right through Odin’s forearm. Loki had utterly lost control of his spirit-body, while Odin’s own, currently inhabiting the physical, was strong and sure.
Squeezing, Odin roared down into Loki’s face, mere inches from his own, “WHERE HAS SHE GONE, WHELP?! Tell me and live another day!” Spittle flew from his mouth and passed through Loki’s eyes and lips.
“Who?” Loki managed to choke.
“Your bitch-mother, the All-Whore Frigga!”
Loki’s eyes, already wide and rolling, widened even farther. Never, in all his fifteen centuries, had he heard Odin speak so of the queen.
With a loud SPANG a blue and silver blur ricocheted off the side of the flying machine and hit Odin full in the chest. Odin didn’t even flinch, but just batted the projectile to the ground. Loki recognized the National Hero’s shield.
“Odin, turn and face me!” came Thor’s voice from behind the All-Father. “None may defame my mother and live! Turn, coward!” He sounded truly furious and for just a moment Loki’s heart leapt for battle. The courage of his brother had always called to him thus. But he was useless now, immobilized, immagickal, weakening by the second, unarmed –
Wait.
Was he not Loki?
Was not his mightiest weapon always with him, sharp and ready?
“Where do you think she’s gone, you old simpleton?” he croaked.
“Ha! You do know! Speak!” Odin commanded.
There came a roaring from Thor, and Odin flung out the hand that held the scepter and hurled his golden son through a building, never taking his avaricious gaze from Loki. His grip loosened infinitesimally, to allow Loki to answer.
“Well,” Loki tried to swallow and regretted it, “where would you go, All-Foolish Odin?”
Odin’s face blanked momentarily, as he considered Loki’s words. What meaning he was ascribing to them, Loki had no way of knowing. Loki’s only hope was that Frigga had gotten far, far away, and, as her mind worked entirely differently than Odin’s, it was a fairly safe bet that she had not gone anywhere that Odin would choose. Even as his thighs began to go numb, Loki tried to keep a knowing leer upon his face, as if he had some secret source of information.
Then comprehension and a look of vicious hatred overspread Odin’s features. “So,” he breathed, “The bitch betrays me to my master, even as she has betrayed my bed. She would steal his favor, even as she stole the stone. After all my years of devotion, she treats her lord and master thus? Her smiles hid the serpent’s fang. I see she was, after all, a fit mother for you, ungrateful monster.”
Mjolnir hurtled through the air, and froze, suspended, a handspan from Odin’s head.
“Let him go!” Thor bellowed, but Odin merely flung him aside again, somewhat harder than before.
The numbness had crept to Loki’s bellybutton by this time. If he didn’t revert to his physical body within the next minute or two, it would be too late, yet he could go nowhere as long as Odin kept his hold.
“No, I think I will not,” Odin answered Thor’s words, still with his gaze boring into Loki's, “I think I will take this little sack of failure and cast it at my master’s feet. How will he repay you for disappointing him, do you think, beastling?”
Loki felt a wash of terror that would have caused him to lose consciousness had he been embodied. Not being able to lose consciousness in spirit form, he was forced to feel every particle of the fear. He could not go back, he could not, could not. He would much prefer to dissolve right now, if only the numbness would creep faster.
But his silver tongue, trained by centuries of lies and dissimulation, ran ahead without his bidding.
“Ask rather how he will repay you, fool,” he sneered, “if you upset his plans for me.”
“You lie,” Odin snarled, “He has no more plans for a worthless pile of bones like you. You have already proven your weakness – he would trust no task to you!”
Loki merely sneered the harder. ”Then take me to him, you babbling cretin, and we shall see what he has to say to one who moves his pawns without his permission.”
The numbness was closing around his heart now. If Odin hesitated only a few seconds more, neither he nor anyone could ever take Loki back to Sanctuary. Loki’s vision was dimming, and he smiled up at his false father, somehow not at all surprised to find himself dying at this hand.
A streak of burning red and gold dropped from the sky, searing a line through the dimness.
“Hey, dickwad!” Stark’s brash voice buzzed through Loki’s growing deafness, “That’s MY murder you’re committing!
Odin glared down at Loki with concentrated loathing. Then he gave a growl like a frustrated bear, and vanished.
Loki gasped and tumbled into darkness.