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I couldn’t sleep.
For two days I sat on the bed, wearing the same t-shirt and pants I’d arrived in, and stared off into space.
The two days after that I stripped down in the tiny bathroom attached to my cell and washed off, moving like a robot. The cabinet was full of basically the same outfit I’d already had on. I pulled some on, then curled up on my side under the fleece blanket Tash had brought me from my quarters and stared off into a slightly different area of space than before.
They left me alone after the first day – everything they needed to monitor could be done from the safety of the control room, except for the blood samples that were apparently standard protocol for new…inmates? Guests? Lab rats? It wasn’t that they were avoiding me, exactly – I just made it clear that I didn’t want to talk.
I wanted to sleep. God, I did. I tried. But every time I closed my eyes…
I had never really thought of myself as a complicated guy. Emotionally I’ve always been pretty ordinary – maybe a little too loyal, a long time ago, but since waking from the ice I’d had my illusions gradually peeled away. I wasn’t as quick to hand over my allegiance…well, most of the time anyway. But now, I had about a dozen feelings in a knot in my gut, fighting for control. So far anger was the frontrunner.
Outside I was as calm as always, if a little zombie-like. Inside I was seething. I wanted to take hold of the galaxy and rip it in half, hunt down Thanos and do the same to him. Above and beyond the obvious reasons, because of him the reason I wanted so desperately to sleep was also the reason I couldn’t.
I had to keep it together. Twice when I was dwelling on the nightmares and imagining how good it would feel to punch a hole in Thanos’s sternum and feed him his own heart – assuming whatever the hell he was had a heart – I glanced down and saw a faint light forming around my hands, tiny veins of green luminescence crawling up from my fingers, almost crackling with energy.
I heard a choking noise and looked up to see Selvig on the other side of the glass – he was one of the few people who came down regularly, since he was trying out some new scanner or another to track my brain waves and it needed periodic tweaking.
He was staring at my hands, white as a sheet, a look of fear on his face that I’d never forget. He knew, of course, what was going on, but his ability to deal with anything Loki-related had its limits. He backed off and left the Zoo without saying anything, and didn’t come back for days.
I sent apologies over email and with one of the nurses, but there was no reply.
I had nearly lost control again, but I knew that if I couldn’t figure out how to block off that energy I’d never get out of here, so I did the only thing I could think of.
“You wanted to see me, Captain?”
Wanda Maximoff, known on duty as Scarlet Witch, stood uncertainly outside the cell. She was, of the most recent recruits, the hardest to get a solid read on. She was still deep in mourning for her twin, but wanted to be part of something that helped people and didn’t treat her like a freak. I knew she appreciated that I just took in stride that she had what amounted to magical powers.
“Wanda,” I said, scooching down to the end of the bed to sit cross-legged and try and look nonthreatening. “Thank you for coming. I know you’ve been briefed on my situation.”
“Yes.”
“I was hoping I could ask you a few questions.”
She inclined her head, hair falling into her face. She didn’t seem afraid, which was good – she was skittish when she didn’t have a clear objective to focus on. I think it let her think too much about missing her brother and being in this strange place with only people she’d forged a gunpowder-and-iron battle bond with for company. The only person who could even speak her language was Natasha, who was gone more often than she was here.
I tried to keep my voice low. “I know that you were…given…your power by Hydra, using the Scepter,” I said. “It’s not exactly the same as what I’ve got but I think it’s close enough that maybe you can give me some advice on how to control it.”
“Which part?” she asked quietly. “Mind influence, or other?”
I smiled. “Other. As far as I know I can only get in one person’s head and I have to be asleep for that. But when I get emotional, I start generating this energy, and I’m afraid I’ll lose control and hurt someone.”
Another nod. “You get it from your boyfriend.”
“No, he’s not…” I saw the tiny glimmer of humor in her eyes, and laughed. “Okay, I guess you’ve heard more than the official briefing.”
She gave me what, for her, was a grin. “I hear you have hots for the guy who brought aliens to blow up the planet. Saw him on the news that time – sexy bastard. I’d get hots too.”
Now, I laughed aloud, and felt something in my stomach unclench for the first time in days. “I appreciate the vote of confidence,” I said. “Can you give me any kind of pointers for dealing with this?”
She thought about it for a minute. “Breath,” she finally said. “Use breath. Easiest way.”
“Breath.”
“Yes. Energy is the life force, always moving. Everything in the universe moves around everything else, like a dance. You use in-breath and out-breath to get into the flow, and the energy moves with you.”
I sort of got what she was saying, but my skepticism must have been clear, because she went on. “You see this light, you breathe in and out slowly. Breathe in and draw magic back in; breathe out and push it somewhere else. A very simple technique, but almost always works – you might forget magic words, but you always breathe.”
“Okay. So the trick is remembering to go back to your breath.”
“You do it over and over, until it takes no thought. That is how magic people are trained – repetition, drills, like Army.”
That much I could definitely understand. “I think I can do that.”
“Then when you master that, you move on to using it on purpose. Use exhale to move it outward, do things.”
I smiled tiredly. “I don’t plan on using it for anything. It’s not even mine, I just don’t want to blow things up.”
She smiled back. “I know how you feel.”
“Thank you, Wanda…really. It’s nice to talk to someone who doesn’t act like I’m a bomb about to go off.”
Wanda shrugged. “If you need help, I will try. Just call.”
“I will.”
The next time I found myself brooding, and saw that telltale glow around my fingers, I gave her advice a shot. It took a couple of tries, but one thing I had was time, and after a while it started working. I even tentatively tried doing the opposite and making it brighter, but that was harder because I was so afraid of it getting away from me. It’s pretty much impossible to become skilled with something you’re scared of. You never really have mastery over it, and it’s just a matter of time before it has you by the throat.
I felt something moving just at the edge of my awareness, which was kind of weird. I have pretty acute senses, but this was different. This was energy. And without even looking up, I knew exactly who it was. Red and gold, bound up with metal so powerful it was practically alive.
“Good evening, Steve Rogers.”
I had at some point in the afternoon sat up again and had my arms around my knees, one wrist in the other hand. I didn’t remember doing it. “Thor.”
Something in my face made him not-quite-flinch; he stood there in silence for a moment and I realized he was sizing up my threat potential.
“I apologize for my absence,” he finally said. “If I had known what was happening here I would have returned sooner. Agent Romanov told me what you have been through. I am sorry.”
“Well you should be,” I snapped. “You and your father are the reason all this…”
The venom in my voice surprised both of us. Thor actually shifted slightly away from the glass.
“Sorry,” I said. “That wasn’t fair. I’m just…I don’t know what’s happening to me. I keep getting stuck in all these memories and I can’t tell what’s mine anymore.”
“I admit that I am worried for you – I know little of dreamfasting, but all the tales had one thing in common.”
“Which was?”
“Tragedy. Death, madness, there was always some grand romantic destiny or sacrifice; that is why I paid so little attention. I cared only for tales of valor, not tales of love. But I may be able to find more in the Hall of Lore back on Asgard. Stories that old must have had texts written about them. Analysis.” He offered a rueful smile. “In the past I would have asked my mother, or my brother, to find it. Now I find myself still mourning for both of them.”
“Loki is alive,” I said, knowing it was true – I might never see him again, but he was out there somewhere.
“Yes. But I have grieved his death twice, and now I grieve his life, knowing the truth behind what happened to him. When I think of things I have said in anger, imagining how they sounded, I want nothing more than to find him and beg his forgiveness.”
I sighed and rested my temple on my knee. “I hope you have a chance. And that I do too.”
“You must sleep, Steve Rogers.”
“I can’t. If I go to sleep I might see him, yeah, but I might also get sucked back into those memories…they’re already so close to the surface I don’t think I’m strong enough to push past them.”
“Perhaps you are not. But perhaps Loki is not the only one capable of using this connection – perhaps you can follow it across the cosmos and use its strength where your own fails.”
“I don’t know. It’s a nice idea. I’m just…I’m scared out of my mind.”
“Then ignore your mind for now and heed your heart.” Thor gave me a boyish grin. In spite of myself I returned it, though halfheartedly.
He was about to leave, but a question sprang to my lips: “Hey, can I ask you…what’s a Jotun?”
His eyebrows lifted in surprise. Thor was pretty close to transparent when it came to emotion; I couldn’t really interpret his expression but it was clear the name had hit a nerve.
“Well…” Thor seemed to fidget for a minute while he found the right words. “Jotunheim is one of the Nine Realms, and it is the home of the Frost Giants. They were ancient enemies of Asgard and Midgard both, though now we have a treaty of peace with their new King. I know I have mentioned that Loki is not my brother by blood; it was in the frozen waste of Jotunheim that Father found him as a baby.”
“What do they look like?”
“Mostly as the name would suggest – they are at least half again as tall as I, and their skin is a cold dark blue run through with patterns of ridges. Their eyes are the color of blood. Loki was left to die by his father, their King. A small and frail child would be a source of shame to them. As far as I know the only sign of his origin is a love of cold weather.”
The nightmares rose up again in my mind, and I remembered: Thanos had used temperature as a form of torture, knowing that his prey would be tormented by heat. And when Loki was stripped of his defenses, that dark skin would emerge…skin that Loki hated, both because it betrayed his lineage and because seeing it meant he had lost all control. It was symbolic of everything he hated about himself.
But if that was his real face, that meant what he hated most was his own existence.
The thought made me feel sick – if I’d eaten anything in the last two days it might have made a dramatic return.
There was concern in Thor’s voice as he asked, “Are you ill? You have grown pale…I will call a healer.”
“No,” I said, breathing around the nausea. “It’s okay. I just think I need rest.”
“Very well then. I will leave you, and hopefully when next we meet I shall have more information for you.”
I didn’t remember answering, but I must have said something; a moment later when I got myself together enough to look up, Thor was gone.
My thoughts were swimming in circles – circles growing more and more feeble as exhaustion brought me close to drowning. I returned to my position on my side under the blanket, shutting my eyes tightly.
“Come on,” I whispered, hoping the recording equipment wouldn’t pick it up. “Come back. Find me before the nightmares do.”
It was raining outside, a storm that had lasted for hours. I could hear the rain drumming on the window and periodically thunder would rumble as if someone had disturbed the sky’s afternoon nap.
Perfect weather for a long sleep in the cool quiet of my quarters. I sighed contentedly and—
--remembered where I really was.
I opened my eyes and looked around. Not only was I not in the Zoo, I wasn’t in my room either. I was in that bed back on Navaroth…no, wait.
I sat up, rubbing my eyes. It was a similar room, with the same huge balcony open to the night, only this time there were no moons in the sky; rather than the rainstorm I knew was going on back on Earth, it was a gentle pattering rain, the kind that makes everything soft and silvery. Beneath the clouds I could see the lights of what must be an enormous city, but there was something weird about the shape of the buildings.
It occurred to me about a minute after it should have that this was a different planet.
A forked tongue of lightning snaked down from the sky far enough in the distance that it wasn’t startling but close enough that the room lit up.
More importantly the light outlined the silhouette of the figure standing at the doorway looking out at the rain.
My heart did a drunken cartwheel into the wall.
I managed to climb out of the enormous bed and pad over to the doorway. When I was within a few feet, I stopped, waited.
He was wearing that same long black and green robe as he’d had in the Zoo, and had one hand up on the wall. Upon my approach, he bowed his head for a moment, and I saw his fingers clench slightly against the stone.
Finally I couldn’t stand it anymore. “You’re here,” I said, just loudly enough to be heard over the rain. “Thank God.”
He turned his head toward me slightly, and I saw a smile. “It’s been a long time since anyone was glad to see me.”
The rain had begun to let up, though the clouds were still heavy – a temporary reprieve, maybe twenty minutes if the atmosphere here was anything like ours. I moved up closer to the balcony, careful to keep a little bit of distance for now, curious about the view.
I couldn’t hold back a noise of amazement. It was spectacular. The city was made of golden spires, spheres, pyramids, and some shapes that human engineering couldn’t have fabricated if they’d even thought of them. Some looked like gigantic navigational instruments, some like temples. All of it glittered in the rainfall, and I could only imagine how it would shine during the day.
Far off in the distance toward my right, I saw a thin ribbon of light stretching out of the city and over what must be an enormous body of water. It reminded me of the light coming through a crystal chandelier – dancing through the whole spectrum of color.
Again, Loki smiled faintly without really looking at me. “Asgard,” he said with a sweep of his hand that was somehow both elegant and sarcastic. “The Realm Eternal.”
“How many people live here?” I asked.
“Millions. The palace complex alone has nearly ten thousand.”
“And that light over there?”
“The Bifrost.”
I nodded. Bifrost: Thor’s magic bridge that could go anywhere in the universe. The one he’d broken several years ago to stop Loki from destroying another realm – Jotunheim, I realized. The pieces clicked together. The result had been an endless fall through the black, ending only in greater darkness…impact with a surface of unforgiving rock, lying stunned and bleeding until capture…
The memories crawled up into my mind again, along with new ones: a huge blue figure leaning over what looked like a coffin made of light. Shock in red eyes as a bolt of power assassinated the would-be assassin.
And your death came by the son of Odin.
The words were part of a carefully orchestrated plot, but there was pride in them. Whatever malice had led to that moment, Loki had waited his whole life for it, the chance to be more than Thor’s little brother, to matter as much.
Childhood memories came rushing in next. Sitting alone watching the rain, or reading, or practicing illusions. A beautiful, regal woman with kind eyes showing him how to disguise himself as others with the flick of a wrist. Her love was a singular constant – nothing else ever felt certain. The towering monolith of a man with one eye was always preoccupied, distant. Afraid, maybe, of revealing too much…or maybe of loving too much. Or not enough. There was no sure footing with Odin.
Then there was Thor. Complicated. I watched them play, fight, learn combat. I could feel the crushing love he felt for Thor, as well as the resentment that built over time until it became a bitter poison. And I saw why: when they were alone together, they were equal – the moody dark silver and the loud, impulsive gold, two halves of a whole. But when adults were around, or even other children, it was Thor who commanded attention, even when he didn’t deliberately hog it.
Only one of you can ascend to the throne…but you were both born to be kings.
Knowing that those words were literally true didn’t make them feel like less of a lie now.
Thor was an arrogant little shit as a kid, but he was also sweet, even doting, toward his brother. It would have been easier if he’d been hateful or treated Loki like the afterthought everyone else seemed to, but no, he had to be the one who stood up to bullies, stole treats from the kitchens and snuck them into Loki’s room late at night so the two could hide under the blankets and stuff themselves in the green light Loki made to impress Thor, his idol, his enemy, his everything.
I lurched out of the memories and felt the ground rushing up toward me, but hands seized my shoulders and effortlessly held me up until the room stopped spinning and I could stand again.
I looked up at him. Loki’s eyes, once again that deep and shining blue, were full of worry, and it made the untouchable beauty of his angular face look young and vulnerable.
He touched my cheek gingerly. “Was it…”
I shook my head. “Different this time. Not all bad.” I looked around the room, over at the bed I’d woken in. “This is your room,” I said. “You grew up in here.”
Loki nodded distractedly and steered me back to the bed to sit down. “Are you all right?”
I reached up and traced my thumb around the edge of his lower lip. “Are you?”
He frowned and drew back. “Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Don’t look at me like that, like…I’m some wounded animal you’ve taken in as a pet. Like I’m…”
“Weak,” I finished. “I know you’re not weak. Nobody who wasn’t incredibly strong could have survived what you did. I don’t even know how you’re sane.”
“What makes you think I am? Do sane people try to conquer planets or kill their own kin?” He laughed, but it was a hollow sound. “Yes, Thanos tore me apart and remade me into a rabid dog to let loose on Midgard. But no one forced me to act the day I tried to destroy Jotunheim. No one tortured me into lying to my brother in his exile or trying to kill him.”
He stood back up, turning away with arms crossed. When he spoke again it was quietly, dangerously. “Do you want to know the worst part, Captain? I still want to do it. Every day I imagine burning Asgard to the ground, or herding the human race into slavery. The farther away I am from those days in that cage, the more I can feel that those desires aren’t all mine – that I’m not fully in control of my own will and never can be, because as long as Thanos lives, part of me is still his. More than anything that drives me to hide. If I am ever in his presence again I will crawl back to him like a bitch in heat. Tell me how sane that is.”
I didn’t say anything, so he looked back at me, eyes green again – it was the magic, I realized. They just weren’t glowing…yet. I remembered looking in the mirror during my dream about Bucky and seeing my own alight. The power in them had scared me.
There was deep, cold anger in his words as he asked, “Do you remember what it felt like? Being chained, stripped of your defenses…taken, over and over, used until your entire body was one raw nerve that felt every touch, every bite, a hundredfold greater in intensity? Do you remember begging for more, kneeling and sucking, swearing to do whatever it took for even a moment’s release?”
The memories rose up again, and yes, I could feel it all, tearing at my mind. I had to fight my way out of it and fight to keep from falling back into that darkness.
Loki went on, and I could hear the cruelty that I remembered from the first time I’d ever seen him, in Germany. This time, though, it wasn’t directed outward. “Whatever you might want to believe about me, make no mistake: I am a black and twisted creature, and it doesn’t matter how I got that way. I will always be this thing that I am. Beyond what he made of me there is nothing remaining.”
“I don’t believe that,” I replied calmly, refusing to be baited. “But I get it. If you can convince yourself you’re a monster then you don’t have to face the nightmares. I don’t blame you. After everything they did to you, you’re too tired and too full of grief to imagine life any other way.”
He started to snap at me, probably that I was an idiot, but I cut him off with, “But you made a huge mistake, Loki of Asgard…you let me see you without your illusions. Now I can see right through them all.”
The green light in his eyes flared. “I think it’s time you woke—“
I didn’t let him get the sentence out. My reflexes are useful for more than one kind of battle, after all. The last word faded into a faint noise of surprise as my mouth covered his.
He was stiff for a moment, probably trying to decide whether to throw me across the room, but a tremor ran through him and he relaxed, sighing against my lips.
I slid my hands around his waist and jerked him against me, at the same time lightly biting his lip; as I’d expected, he melted into me and tangled one hand in my hair.
“Don’t try to scare me away,” I said, nuzzling his ear. “For the time being we’re stuck with each other, remember? I’m going to be right here in your dreams, confused as hell and wanting you desperately, and if you’re smart you’ll take advantage of that.”
He tilted his head back to look me in the face. I wasn’t sure what he was searching for, but after a minute he lowered his head to my shoulder in an unmistakable gesture of surrender and asked, “Why did you have to be like this?”
“Like what?”
A quiet laugh. “Brave enough to challenge me, foolish enough to want to, and wonderful enough to win.”
I grinned. “Well, I am a superhero, you know.”
He smiled back, and there was the tiniest sliver of sunlight in the expression, just enough to make me feel like I was flying. He took my hands and drew me toward the bed.
“Tell me the truth,” I said. “What do you think caused this? What does it mean? You must have an idea.”
One eyebrow lifted. “Do you really want to talk about that right now? I have so many better uses for your mouth.”
“Ulterior motive,” I confessed. “Hearing you talk turns me on.”
Again, that smile. “I get that a lot.”
With that, he took hold of my upper arm, and next thing I knew I was hitting the bed on my back. Loki stood over me, looking…well, mischievous is the only word for it. I couldn’t help but laugh.
I came so close to saying it right then – I felt the words forming, but pushed them away…for now. I just couldn’t, not yet. I knew what I was feeling, but I couldn’t be sure it was real. This was a dream world, after all. It might be temporary, or breakable. What then?
We held each other’s eyes for a minute and I wondered if he was thinking the same thing.
The only certainty was that right now we both wanted the same thing – and it wasn’t more conversation, not even a confession.
Outside, the rain had resumed, this time pouring. The room had gradually grown colder, and I didn’t notice until right then.
“Does that have a door or curtains or something?” I asked, tilting my head toward the balcony.
“A force field,” Loki replied. “But I have a better idea.” He held up a hand toward the wall, and I noticed the fireplace just as the wood within it burst into flame with a shower of green sparks.
“All we need is Marvin Gaye,” I noted, thinking that Sam would be proud.
“If that’s a person, there’s no way I’m sharing you,” was the reply. He sank gracefully onto the bed and stretched out alongside me, one hand wrapping around my hip to pull me closer. He leaned in and said in my ear, “Perhaps some other time…but right now, you’re mine, Captain Rogers.”
Both the words and the tone sent a shiver through me. “Just don’t expect me to kneel.”
“Not today,” was the low, darkly amused reply, punctuated with a feather-light lick of my earlobe. He reached down to slide his hands under my shirt, lifting it up slowly and then over my head. Then his fingers curled into my waistband.
“You’re not going to make them disappear?” I asked.
“You were the one in a hurry last time,” Loki pointed out. “I much prefer the old-fashioned way.”
Again, I felt myself turn red at the way he looked at me as the last of my clothes came off. I’ve been stared at pretty much my whole life, for good reasons and bad, but this was different. This was appreciation, yes, and hunger that made my toes curl, but there was more than that. The dreamfasting had attached us to each other emotionally – had he been with anyone else he’d had a connection to? Or was I just his first human?
I almost asked, but a few seconds later forgot the question entirely.
I wish I could say it was for good reasons.
Loki tipped my chin up with one hand and leaned in to nibble the hollow of my throat, then kissed along my collarbone before pausing and biting my shoulder.
I groaned, wrapping my hand around his neck. “Again,” I breathed.
A few inches to the left, he bit again, this time a little harder. The pain ricocheted through me before landing squarely in my dick. The third bite was accompanied by a long, slow stroke with his hand. The sensation was so overwhelmingly intense – I think there was magic involved, but I was a little preoccupied and didn’t check – my mind spun off into space, and I could only feel.
The first flash of darkness was so quick I could ignore it. I pulled him up for a hard, deep kiss while his hand was still moving with agonizing slowness along my cock. I remembered what he’d said he wanted to do to me that first night, wanted in that moment to beg for every word to come true.
“Beg, princeling. Plead for what you want – what we all know you want.”
No, no, no—
“Does that feel good? Shall I do it again?” There was laughter in that hateful voice. Thanos jerked his hips forward and pain lanced through me like a dozen knife blades, and that’s what they were…every time I saw him take the sheath out of its box, I involuntarily started trying to claw my way back through the wall. It was metal, old and stained, covered in knobs that each held a half-inch spike that were extended by a switch at the base. It was one of his favorite toys, all kept in their own box. Each of them had been driven into my body a dozen times.
“You act like you’re in pain, pretty one, but look how hard you are. You want this…you deserve it. Tell me how much you deserve it.”
Screaming—
Alarms were shrieking all around me, and there were frantic voices. Hands tried to grab my shoulders and hold me down, but I lashed out, throwing the person away, then the one on the other side. Then more hands took hold of me, and these I couldn’t fight; they were too strong. I thrashed against the bonds, desperate to fight my way free.
I heard familiar voices begging me to calm down, but there was nothing familiar about where I was – a cave, a cell, a bloodstained table, no comfort or solace to be found anywhere. Existence was nothing but misery and fear…
There was a tiny prick of pain in my upper arm, and I felt a weird liquid heat traveling through me, starting at the top of my head and flowing downward. Suddenly I couldn’t struggle anymore…my muscles all gave out at once, and then everything was quiet.
The hands on me let go, and I curled up into a ball, shaking.
“Steve…look at me. Look at me…Steve, it’s Natasha. Look at me.”
It took me a minute to recognize her voice, but when I did I forced my eyes open. Her face was hovering near mine: soft lower lip, errant red curls, eyes full of worry.
The noises around me started making sense. Monitors. The air smelled like industrial cleansers, metal, sweat. The Zoo.
“Breathe…inhale…exhale…good, good, now again…”
I followed Tash’s voice until my heartbeat had slowed enough that one of the alarms beeped and went silent. The tension in the air around me toned down a level or two.
Gently, Tash helped unwind my limbs so I was laying flat again, allowing the doctors to take my vitals.
“…hurt anybody?” I panted.
She looked off to one side, then the other. “A few bruises, maybe a cracked rib. Nothing serious. Everyone who comes down here automatically gets hazard pay, so.”
“Sorry,” I said hoarsely, a little louder so hopefully the others would hear. Then, to Tash again, “Magic?”
“Not this time. But it was…I know you probably can’t talk about it yet, but it sounded…way, way worse.”
My eyes started burning. God, I was going to start sobbing in front of half of SHIELD. I just nodded and shut my eyes hard, breathing slowly to push the emotion back.
When I finally had it under control enough that I was pretty sure I wouldn’t cry or blow things up with my brain, I sat up, causing protests among the medical staff.
In the cell’s far corner, Thor was watching with deep sorrow in his eyes; he didn’t seem to have a problem with public emotion, and had tears in a silvery track down one side of his face. Whatever I’d done or said while I was out, it must have been awful for him to think about, knowing where it had come from.
“You okay?” I asked. My throat hurt like hell.
Thor wiped his eyes. “Not especially. But I am glad you are back among us.”
“I thought you were leaving,” I said.
His brow knitted. “I intended to. I had only left you half an hour ago – Nick Fury needed to speak to me on several subjects before I took the Bifrost home. I was walking out of his office when the commotion began.”
“Commotion,” I repeated, looking at Tash. “You mean me screaming.”
She nodded.
I put my head in my hands, and kept them there until I heard people leaving. The staff didn’t stick around long once they decided I wasn’t in danger – or about to cause danger.
Tash and Thor stayed for a minute. I was afraid they were going to ask for details, but they didn’t. I guess it wasn’t necessary.
“You’re going to be all right, Steve,” Tash said, laying her hand on my shoulder. I flinched, but then relaxed. “We’re going to fix this.”
“How?” I asked, looking up at her.
“Thor’s going to go look into it at home,” she said. “He’ll find something. I know he will.”
I smiled slightly. “You’re not very good at being reassuring, Tash.”
“I know. But I’m doing the best I can.”
I put my hand on hers, and impulsively, she hugged me hard. “Damn it, Cap…you’re the last person on the planet who deserves this kind of shit.”
“No one does,” I said, looking over her shoulder at Thor. “No one.”
Tash asked, very tentatively as she stepped back, “The monitors showed that you were sleeping just fine for the first ¾ of the incident…was it just the last part that hurt you?”
“Yeah.” I thought back to those precious few minutes, the sound of rain, the warmth of the fireplace. Kissing. Laughing. The latter was almost more amazing than the former. “It was…we were fine, at first. Then things got…”
“Intimate?” Tash hazarded.
I nodded. “That’s when it all went to hell. I wish I had a way to contact him and tell him I’m okay.”
“This qualifies as okay?” she wanted to know. “You’ve got messed up standards, Rogers.”
I flexed my fingers and noticed they felt numb. “What did they give me?”
“Morphine,” she replied. “Three times the lethal dose. Dr. Cho apparently did some math when they first brought you down here and factored in your metabolism to figure out how much they’d have to give you to knock you out. It didn’t, really, just made you lay still for a minute. But that was enough to break through.”
Thor came forward and squeezed my shoulder. “I will return soon,” he said. “In a few days at most. Try to hold on until then, and perhaps we can solve this mess.”
“Good luck,” I told him tiredly. At that point I wasn’t holding out much hope.
“Do you want me to stay?” Tash asked. “I will.”
“No. I know I can’t be alone-alone, but I think I just need space for a while.”
“Okay. Well you know where I am if you change your mind.”
“Yeah. Thanks, Tash.”
They left, Thor giving me an encouraging smile that I could almost believe. I knew he would try with everything he had; the others might just be worried about me losing my mind, but Thor had two people to save.
I held off sleep for hours. I was just too afraid. But I was so exhausted, physically and mentally, that there was only so long I could fight it. My hold on consciousness started to slip again.
It was still raining, and I was back in my quarters, where it was comfortable and warm. I hadn’t expected to miss my little rooms so much, but compared to being in a fish bowl 24/7 they were paradise. At least everything around me was familiar…no alien landscapes, just nondescript beige walls.
But I wasn’t safe. I’d never be safe. I couldn’t escape my own mind, especially not asleep. Terror that I would fall into those memories gripped me, and I turned my face into the pillow, the emotional fallout I’d held at bay in the Zoo finally hitting me like a bomb dropped from the sky.
I don’t think I’ve ever really wept before. Every guy cries, no matter what he tells you, but we’re not supposed to actually let go. It was way worse in my era than now; I’d only ever seen a few men really up and cry, almost always at funerals, while drunk, or upon hearing a family member or friend had been lost to the great gaping mouth of the war. It wasn’t that I didn’t feel things, it was more that I preferred to channel them into action. Whatever needed to happen– revenge, rescue – tears wouldn’t get it done.
But there was no one watching, no one to laugh, and I didn’t have the strength to care anymore. I sobbed, and shook, gripping the pillow so hard my fingers hurt.
I don’t know how long it went on, but at some point I became aware of fingers stroking my forehead and something solid at my back. It was still a while before I was calm again, though, and that hand stayed on my face, moving down over my ear, along my neck, then back up again.
As I started to grow quiet I felt a forehead touch the back of my head. “Shh…” I heard at my ear, barely a whisper. “It’s all right…”
I tried to pull myself together, sniffing and wiping impatiently at my eyes, but the hand took mine and drew it away, holding it against my chest. “Don’t,” he said softly. “You don’t have to be a hero for me.”
Something warm and gentle moved through me – magic, I supposed, though it was a very light touch. All it did was help me relax a little, and slowly brought my breathing into synch with his. I closed my eyes, and we lay there in silence for a long time, his arms around me, the rain still pattering the window outside.
After a while he said, “I’m sorry.”
I let out a shaky breath. “It’s not your fault.”
“This would not be happening to you if not for me.”
I didn’t argue, even though I didn’t agree. I was just so tired, and it was so peaceful here. It might be torn from me at any minute. I had to hold on while I could.
I guess I was asleep – asleep within a sleep – for a while, or drifting in and out. I could feel the burden of the last few days lifting a little, letting me breathe.
“I’m glad you’re here,” I said after a while.
“I don’t know how you can be,” Loki replied, shaking his head. “I’ve brought you nothing but pain.”
“No…that’s not true.”
“Oh? I don’t think one blow job really balances the scale – not even one from me.”
I rolled over and looked at him, needing to know something suddenly. “When you did that…did you enjoy it? Did it give you flashbacks?”
He didn’t hesitate in his answer. “Very much, and no…I have the benefit of distance through time; it’s all new for you. I do have my nightmares, though. The memories never leave me completely, but I found ways of coping.”
“Like what? Tell me. Maybe it can help.”
“During my travels, after I left Asgard the last time, I sought out a sorceress my mother had spoken of. She gave me something…this.”
He held up one hand, and I noticed the leather cuff around one of his wrists. He unbuckled it, and on its underside was a pocket that held a flat, oval-shaped stone about two inches long. It had bands of color ranging from translucent to a deep purple, and it reminded me very strongly of my glimpse of the Bifrost.
“This is essentially the same as the stone you’d call fluorite,” Loki said. “It has particular qualities that make it well suited to ease such horrors. She charged it – woke its energetic potential. When I feel panic setting in, I activate it with a trigger phrase, and it calms me almost instantly.”
“What’s the phrase?”
He said something in what I can only assume was the version of Norse that they used on Asgard. It almost, almost made sense, but I suspected I’d need a little more time to absorb the language completely, and I didn’t have the energy right now. I recognized one name: Frigga.
“You call your mother for help?” I asked, smiling a little.
“Don’t laugh.”
“I’m not,” I said, kissing the back of his hand. “I think it’s wonderful.”
“It isn’t specifically a call to her, but a prayer for protection in her name, as she was a powerful Queen and now one of the Mighty Dead. We call upon our ancestors in many things.”
“So it’ll only work for you, then,” I said with a sigh. “Too bad.”
He looked at the stone for a moment, then took my hand and pressed the fluorite into my palm. “Take it,” he said. “You need it far more than I at present.”
“But Frigga isn’t my Mighty Dead.”
“You have to create your own trigger. I can show you.”
Loki moved closer, so that I rested my head on his arm, and I was being held and surrounded by blankets and arms and the peace of the room. “Open your senses,” he told me. “Let everything you love about this moment – everything comforting, everything that makes you feel safe – become strong and clear in your mind. Fill yourself up with the thing you want to feel most in the world.”
You. I want you. Anywhere, just like this. I didn’t say it aloud, but I let that in too, imagining what it would be like if we could just have a night together without nightmares and flashbacks, just he and I…if it could, just maybe, be real…to hell with the rest of the world and SHIELD and everything else. We could figure that out later. Right now I wanted rest, and peace, and Loki.
“All right, now, when you have that feeling as strongly envisioned as you can get it, choose a phrase you can easily remember, and begin to repeat it to yourself, imagining the words being absorbed into the feeling and the feeling into the words, until the two are inextricably linked.”
My mind went blank. I’ve never been good at words under pressure. “I don’t know what to use.”
“It doesn’t matter, as long as it’s something you know is true.”
I reached into that positive emotional cloudbank sort of thing I’d raised, and thought at it, “I love you, Loki.”
I thought it again, and again, until I could see that peaceful, gentle state growing connected to the words.
“Good,” he said. He must not have heard what I chose. “Now…keep drawing that feeling up connected with the words, and soon you’ll be able to create the feeling just by thinking them. If you do that, while you’re wearing this stone, it will take hold of the stone’s magic and together they’ll banish the nightmares. The more you do it, the easier it gets.”
“But if I take this you won’t have one.”
“I can mostly keep the memories at bay on my own, now. The stone isn’t meant as a permanent fix, only a tool to help you work through it on your own terms.”
“So I just hold the stone…think the magic words...”
“And draw that feeling to yourself. Trust me, it will work. Here….let me see you try it.”
I met his eyes. “Now it’s your turn not to laugh.”
He lifted his eyebrows. “I won’t.”
“Okay….” I held onto the stone, closed my eyes, and breathed in, then whispered, “I love you…I love you…Loki.” I felt myself flushing, but went ahead. As I inhaled again, I reached out toward that feeling and drew it closer, closer with each breath, until it surrounded me, and I could feel it settling on my skin, a protective barrier of serenity. “It’s working.”
“Good,” he said. There was emotion in his voice of a kind I didn’t remember having heard before. “Congratulations, you’ve just done magic. Remarkably well, I might add.”
I smiled. “I’ve been working with it during the day. Wanda—Scarlet Witch—gave me advice on how to control that excess energy. It really helped.”
We settled back down for a bit, and neither of us spoke until he muttered, “I should not have come here. It’s too great a risk.”
“I would have dreamed about you anyway. I’d much rather have the real you in a dream than just a dream about you.”
He took the stone and the cuff and closed it around my wrist – I really didn’t expect it to fit, but I guess Asgardian leather is magic too. The outside had incredibly fine and detailed knotwork carved into it, along with a sigil that included a stylized L surrounded by Runes and the shape of what looked kind of like a crow.
It settled on my arm like it had always been there, and I smiled. Too bad when I woke up it would be gone. I could only imagine the stares and whispers I’d get when people figured out what the carvings meant. It gave me a sort of wicked delight thinking about scandalizing everyone.
Hmm. He might be rubbing off on me.
Then he asked, “May I show you something?”
I grinned. “Anything you want.”
Loki chuckled, smiled at me. “Come on. Get up.”
“But where can we go? It’s raining—“
But when I looked up, the bed had disappeared as had the room. It was suddenly midmorning, and we were at the edge of a gigantic forest of mammoth trees. These trees weren’t tall like redwoods; they were wide, with massive branches. There were at least a dozen birdsongs going on, and though they clearly thought they were all part of the symphony, none of them could decide which symphony that was.
To my left, where the forest ended, the sky was a piercing blue, free of clouds. It was some kind of dropoff, and edging closer I saw it was a steep cliff that ended in the ocean. The tide crashed against the cliff’s foot throwing up waves thirty feet tall at least. It was so far down it made me a little dizzy.
But beyond that…
Another breathtaking view of Asgard, but this time from a distance. I’d been right about how it would gleam golden in the sunlight. This time I could see small airplanes, or whatever they were, flittering around the buildings like bees around a hive.
“This was my favorite place,” Loki said behind me. I turned from the view and looked at him; he was sitting on a fallen log just under the treeline. He was still wearing black, but a more complicated outfit involving leather. I had to make a serious effort to concentrate on his words. “It was the first I discovered I could travel to by the hidden paths, and it became a sort of haven.”
“No one else ever comes here? But it’s amazing!”
A shrug. “Few Asgardians ever explore beyond the city. There is not much solid land here, and it is all surrounded by crashing surf and high cliffs. For all their courage in battle, Asgardians have an odd dread of high places like this. Besides, being alone with nature isn’t really a popular pastime. They are, by and large, uncomfortable with solitude.”
“So this was your sanctuary,” I concluded. “Somewhere you could come you knew nobody would want to follow even if they could find it.”
He was quiet for a moment before saying, “My f…the AllFather told me my true origins during Thor’s exile to Midgard. My whole life the Frost Giants were the monsters in children’s stories...and now I was one. That shock and rage and betrayal—realizing he never once intended me to be King of Asgard, but wanted to use me to broker an alliance with Jotunheim—pushed me off an edge I had been moving toward for years. But as they say on Midgard…it’s not the fall that kills you so much as the sudden stop at the end.”
“When Thanos caught you.”
“I don’t know if you’ve ever been tortured, Captain, directly…but there is a point, not long before they break you and you forget everything that ever meant anything, when you are clinging tooth and claw to any good memory, any good place you can go to escape the pain and humiliation.”
“This was one of your escapes.”
“The last one. I held on to it until there was nothing left of the Loki who had lived in this realm. That is why…I have not been back here, even while I was impersonating the King of Asgard…until now.”
I looked around, the import of it hitting me and making my heart hurt. His refuge, the last beautiful thing Thanos had taken away…and he had brought me here with him the first time he reclaimed it. My breath caught in my throat.
Something must have shown on my face, because Loki smiled—a sweet, fond smile that made the ache even worse. I decided then that even if this was just magic, if this wasn’t real love, I didn’t want real love. I would take that smile, this moment, any day.
“Come,” Loki said, rising. “There are more wonders in this place than the view.”
He took my hand and pulled me along into the woods. There was some kind of animal track through the trees that apparently he could see but I couldn’t, because it seemed we were going in a totally random course, but next thing I knew, I could hear water.
The forest opened up again, but this time just a little. Tucked into the trees was a tiny clearing, with a pool at one end and a waterfall at the other. Large flat boulders lay between the two, perfect for lying out in the sun, and just under the trees the foliage formed an ideal little shelter. I caught sight of a hole in one of the adjacent trees, just above the ground—a handy spot to hide things in.
Loki led me to the shelter and sat me down in the fragrant grass that got just enough sunlight at an angle to grow. It was incredibly soft, and as I ran my hands through it, it smelled like…
“Apples?” I asked. “I didn’t see any apple trees.”
A smile. He looked so young here, so at ease. “It’s the grass. There are orchards on Asgard, just not this particular island. There are, however…wait here.”
I stretched out on my back. The sound of the water, the warm but not-too-direct sunlight, birds and wind and trees and grass that smelled like apples for some reason…Loki was right about this place being a haven. It felt a million miles away from anything dark or frightening.
My eyes drifted shut, though I didn’t sleep just yet. I heard him rejoin me, sitting up but leaning over me, one hand curved around my stomach.
Something warm touched my lips. I heard a quiet laugh. “Don’t worry, Captain…it’s just a berry.”
Smiling, I opened my mouth, and he pressed what felt like a blackberry onto my tongue. I bit down on it, and at first it was almost unbearably sour; but then it seemed to release a wave of sweetness like the fat sun-warmed strawberries my grandmother had grown every year.
“Another?”
I nodded. This time, when he placed the berry in my mouth, I caught his hand and made sure to catch any runaway juice on his fingers with my tongue. A delighted shiver ran through him.
His free hand lifted up my shirt and, using one of the berries, traced long spirals down over my torso. I lifted my head up enough to see: it looked like he’d drawn on me in blood.
Giving me an impish look, Loki leaned down and began erasing those lines with his tongue. A helpless moan escaped me and I dropped my head back into the grass, not the least bit inclined to stop him. I got enough of my brain together to tug off my shirt and ball it up under my head so I’d have a better view.
His teeth and fingernails both scraped lightly over my skin, leaving it insanely sensitive so that the next few drops of juice, and the next long, leisurely lick ,wrenched a soft whimper from my throat.
For some crazy reason I thought of the ads I’d seen on TV lately trying to get people to eat their “five a day” of fruits and vegetables. Obviously what Americans needed were Asgardian princes with tongues that…oh…
He bit me just over my hip, to get my attention. “Don’t forget the stone,” he said seriously. “If anything starts to change, use it.”
I nodded.
Loki’s hands slid down my hips, taking my pants with them—boxers too. I let out a breath I hadn’t been holding on purpose; I hadn’t realized until that second just how hard I was, and how uncomfortable all those clothes had become.
Again, that sweeping look of admiration, but this time it was daylight, and I felt even more naked than before. I’ll be the first to admit my sexual experience is fairly limited – varied partners, yes, but the settings and activities were always pretty vanilla. I had a feeling like that was one flavor I could forget the taste of from here on out.
I reached up and tried to get my hands into his clothes, but I was quickly stymied by ties and buckles and “How do I get in here?” I asked, frustrated.
“Slow down,” Loki told me, amused at my impatience. “Here, I’ll show you.”
He lay down next to me and took my hands, guiding them to the right places to unlace, untie, and so forth. I realized midway through that it wasn’t really that complicated, just different, and had a lot more pieces than my own barefoot ensemble. I got the hang of it and took over, but I took my time – it was like a treasure hunt and every expanse of ivory skin was a prize.
“This isn’t even formal wear, is it,” I said with a grin.
He smiled back. “Not at all. This would be ‘going outside the royal family’s section of the palace’. Ready for a fight, but always ready to represent the King.”
“Not so much now, though,” I said. I had him down to a thin shirt on the top half. I sat up and pushed him onto his back so I could set to work on an amazing pair of knee-high boots that of course laced all the way up. “The leather workers on Asgard aren’t screwing around,” I noted. “I doubt there’s anything this beautifully made anywhere on Earth…but the boots are nice too.”
I looked up quickly enough to catch him laughing, then went back to work, loosening laces with one hand while my other glided up along his calf, then wrapped around a thigh.
“Perfect,” I murmured. I enjoyed my task so much, slowly baring his skin to my hands, that I forgot I was fooling around naked in the woods in the middle of the afternoon with a thousand-year-old warrior-and-sort-of-villain from another planet. It wasn’t until the last garment came off and I lay back down to draw him to me that I remembered.
We pressed against each other, the contact electric and drawing a gasp from my lips. God, finally, finally…desire snaked through me almost viciously. I ran my hands down his back once, then again – this time with my nails scratching lightly.
Loki sighed contentedly and rolled to the side, dragging me up on top of him so he could acquaint himself with the contours of my ass. Just that few minutes of contact had us both rock-hard; I shifted my hips slightly so my cock could rub along his while I leaned down and kissed him slowly and deeply. It was strange…I was exploring flesh I’d never bitten or licked before, but something about all of this felt familiar, in that good way like opening your door after a long trip overseas and letting the sweetness of home into your lungs and skin. It was like we’d done this a thousand times, and I knew that if I were to draw a lazy circle around one nipple and then bite it gently—
He gasped and arched against me, helpless. I did it again, and again, moving from one side to the other and interspersing light flicks of my tongue at his ear.
“You know,” I said softly, sucking lightly on his neck just where it joined the shoulder, then again, harder, leaving a red circle on that fair skin that would probably be gone in a few minutes, “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about what you said you wanted to do to me…that first night.”
“What a coincidence,” he replied, a little breathless. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about doing it. In fact, every time I’ve seen you since then, my mind paints such delightful images…you, bent over the chair in that cell, eyes shut tight, my cock buried to the hilt in this beautiful ass while all the cameras record whatever they may…both of us on Navaroth, my hands coating your body inside and out with this amazing oil they have that sensitizes the skin almost unbearably, so that when I turn you over and fuck you I barely have to move and you’re screaming…it’s very distracting, you know.”
The words left me dizzy – I’m guessing because all the blood in my body had suddenly been diverted to my dick.
“Well then what are you waiting for?” I managed.
Loki smiled. “An invitation.”
I groaned, threading my hands into his hair and locking our gazes. “All right, then…Loki Odinson, Prince of Asgard, Silvertongue, you are cordially invited to fuck me until I forget my own name.”
The look in his eyes was both hungry and playful, and it made my heart ricochet around my ribcage. “I am honored to accept,” he said with a nod. Then, he drew back and set about arranging my limbs, bending my knees and planting my feet on the ground, coaxing my thighs apart.
One eyebrow lifted. “Have you done this before, Captain?”
“You mean with a guy?”
“I mean, letting someone else…take the lead.”
“Oh…no.”
Surprise crossed his face, along with something quietly happy that he didn’t give voice to. “All right, then…I shall take my time.”
I was aware, then, of how vulnerable I felt, but at the same time, not at all nervous. I lay back with a sigh, enjoying the feeling of his hands moving over my thighs, up around my hips and down my legs, testing my muscles with appreciation. One hand lifted away, and I felt a stirring of magic; a moment later that hand closed around my shaft, and the palm was slick, warm. Whatever oil or lotion he’d conjured made my skin tingle just slightly.
The middle finger of his other hand began to trace a light circle just barely touching my asshole, and I sucked in a tortured breath—I knew I’d regret it if he hurried, but right then all I wanted was for him to take me, to push deep into me and tear me in half. I needed to be filled to overflowing, to have the hollow ache inside me driven out.
His finger pressed in, only half an inch or so, and I pushed my hips forward to force it in farther.
Loki made an impatient noise and withdrew his hand. “Lie still,” he commanded. The tone in his voice was not one to ignore. I obeyed, and as soon as I was relaxed again, he went back to his task, working first one finger, then two, in deep.
My body felt tighter than a bow string, every square inch on fire with need, and when a third finger joined in and began stroking me inside, gently opening me up, I moaned helplessly, my hands clawing into the grass.
“God you’re beautiful,” he murmured. “So strong, and powerful, yet you want so badly…you’re so close to begging for it. I could make you, you know…right now I could ask for anything and you would give it up without thought, if only I would promise this…”
His fingers abruptly withdrew, making me whimper at the sudden loss of contact, but seconds later I finally felt what I had been craving: the head of his cock nudging me lightly, just barely pressing at first, then the slightest push, less than an inch moving inside. The burning pain of being stretched even further was overwhelming for a moment, but it faded quickly as he slid a little deeper, then a little more.
I couldn’t stop myself—I tried to pull him against me, to rush the agonizingly slow process.
In response, he jerked his hips back and pulled out. I cried out not from the pain but from the sudden emptiness.
“What did I tell you?” he asked imperiously. “Surely you can follow orders, Captain Rogers.”
I nodded and forced myself still, fighting every urge that hit my body.
The first part had been slow and careful, making sure I was ready.
This part wasn’t.
Without saying anything else, he used one hand to fit his cock back against me, then drove in, filling me until our hips collided. I don’t know if I screamed or not – I’m pretty sure I did – but the deep, satisfied groan he made sent shockwaves of pleasure through me.
He slid back again, almost all the way out, so slowly I could feel every inch of his considerable length stroking my insides – then thrust hard in, drawing another cry from my throat.
Again, and again…my heart was racing, sweat coating my skin, and I whispered, breathlessly, “Yes…God, yes…harder…”
This wasn’t misty, candlelit lovemaking. This was fucking – hard and fierce and relentless – and I loved every second. Being pushed open, filled up, my body thrown back along the ground until I could feel the grass rubbing against skin gone raw from friction…it felt so good, so unbelievably good.
Fingers closed around my cock and stroked with the same rhythm. The pressure building was almost terrifying, and even when he took his hand away I could still feel it there. He lowered himself onto his hands and kissed me, tongue thrusting into my mouth. I caught it and sucked hard, loving the sound it evoked, a half-moan, half-growl.
He looked down into my eyes. “You’re mine,” he said quietly. “Mine alone.”
I reached up with both hands and took hold of his hips to haul him into me even harder. His eyelashes fluttered, his breath hitched.
“Mine,” I said.
All he could do was nod.
He leaned down to kiss my neck, sending tremors through me…then, he bit me at the base of my throat.
The pain acted like TNT blowing a hole in a dam – orgasm hit me unexpectedly and rocked through me, every muscle in my body tightening. The waves of bliss causing me to undulate around him were enough to set him off too, and with a cry of both pleasure and surprise, he came inside me so hard we were both left shaking, panting.
We lay like that for a long time, still joined, heartbeats gradually slowing. His head rested on my shoulder, and I kept my arms around him, unwilling to let go.
Eventually, though, he gently withdrew and sat up. I gave him a look that had to have been hilariously petulant, but he said, “Come on…if you can walk. The water is warm.”
That idea was appealing enough to make me move. I was sore and stiff and sticky, but he was right about the water in the pool. It wasn’t deep enough for serious swimming, but for washing off and kissing languidly after an intense round of sex, it was ideal.
We didn’t talk much until afterward when we lay back down in the shelter of the tree, closer to the trunk this time. I curled up on my side, Loki at my back, his arm around my waist and the other under my head, fingers laced with mine. Even after the quick dip I was still buzzing on the inside, my mind drifting in lazy circles.
“Are you all right?” he asked softly. “You didn’t seem to have any flashbacks, even though things were…a bit intense.”
I considered that. No, I hadn’t had even an inkling of trouble. I wondered why. I looked at my arm, where the fluorite cuff was still in place. Was it that? Was it this place? I had no idea.
“I’m fine,” I said, meaning it. “In fact, I’m…”
I trailed off and was silent for a few seconds, long enough that he asked, “Yes?”
I squeezed his hand. “Happy,” I said. “I’m happy.”
I felt a kiss on the back of my neck. “Would you like to hear something truly strange?”
“Sure.”
There was a smile in his voice. “I am too.”
“Good.”
Unfortunately I was also sleepy; that delicious feeling of being spent, the buzzing of insects off in the sunny part of the clearing, the sound of water falling, the heartbeat at my back…sleep was nuzzling up next to me, and it too wanted an invitation.
The thought of actually getting some rest on top of everything else sounded like paradise. I let myself settle in and completely relax.
“Do any of the dreamfasting legends end well?” I asked drowsily.
A pause. “I can only think of one.”
“Tell me.”
He took a deep breath, then spoke softly at my ear like he was telling me a secret. “Many ages ago, when the great citadel of Asgard was not even a village, there were many tribes battling to claim rule of the entire Realm. One such King had an exceptional daughter. She was dark-haired and had fiery green eyes, and was blindingly intelligent—she became a strategist for her father’s army, and in time became a fierce warrior. On the eve of one of her father’s great battles, she had a dream.
“In her dream she met a man so handsome it nearly hurt to look upon him, and so kind and brave he seemed a myth. The man was attended by four ravens, and when he saw the princess he, too, was spellbound. As they stared at each other, the land Herself spoke to them, saying that Asgard could bear no more bloodshed, and therefore She had created a bond between the two that would bring peace to the clans.
“When the princess awoke, she tried to dismiss the dream as just that, but after that night she was ever watchful, looking for this man she had imagined. She dreamed of him again, and again; each time they grew closer, both physically and in heart, but still she cast her eyes over every crowd, every army, and found him not.
“Then at last her father and one other tribal king were the only two remaining, and they met on the field to decide the fate of Asgard. The battle was endless, horrific, the ground soaked with yet more blood. Hundreds upon hundreds of warriors from both clans were taken to Valhalla, and soon the two kings realized neither could emerge victorious; they were simply too well-matched. At that moment the princess joined her father in meeting with the opposing King, whose right hand was his eldest son. When prince and princess removed their helms and saw each other’s faces, the princess could not believe it: there he was, her dream warrior, and the proof of it was the tattoo he bore on his arm, that of four ravens entwined.
“The princess told her father that she would wed the prince and form an alliance between their clans if it would end the bloodshed. The prince agreed, for all the while, he had been dreaming the same dreams, and searching for her face in every corner of Asgard. Thanks to the dreamfasting, by the time the two met, they loved each other already, and the thought of giving themselves to save so many lives held nothing but joy. It was from there that the great lineage began, a centuries-long line of wise and great Kings ruling Asgard with the blessing of the land Herself.”
I was almost asleep by the end of the story, his silken voice wrapped around me and carrying me away, but I still smiled and murmured, “The land is a woman?”
“The land is always a woman, Captain. Our sustenance, our strength, our mother. She knew that if the two could only meet and get to know each other, they would love each other—that’s the sort of thing a mother knows.”
I squeezed his hand. “Asgard’s pretty damn smart,” I said.
“Always,” he agreed. “Now, sleep…close your eyes…rest, my love, in this quiet place, and regain your strength. Go to sleep…”
And I did.