The Prince and the Sol

Chapter 1

LOKI'S POV

The atmosphere in the quinjet is quiet as we near the Avengers compound in upstate New York. Our trip home is public news, but luckily, the government has instructed everyone to leave us alone. I suppose in the wake of a situation like this, criminal heroes don't matter much. Natasha and Bruce lay on the ground asleep near each other, hands almost touching but not quite. Rhodes slumps up against a wall, also sound asleep. Steve flies the jet back, probably trying not to focus on anything but the sky. Thor stares dejectedly out the window at nothing, and I haven't stopped pacing since we got on board. I twist my wedding band distractedly, doing my best not to focus on the situation at hand. It doesn't work. There's no distraction when your whole world is in jeopardy. None of us are physically wounded, but our spirits are battered.

"We're here," Steve announces quietly, standing and departing from the cockpit. Nat groggily sits up, nudging Bruce gently as she does so. Steve leads the team out, me right on his heels. If she's here, I need to know. It took all of me not just to automatically teleport to the Sanctum. As we near the building, a red haired woman rushes out, looking around us desperately. She looks familiar.

"Steve," she says helplessly, the question silent but in her wide eyes. He sighs and shakes his head.

"I don't know. I'm sorry, Pepper." And then I recognize the woman: Pepper Potts, Stark's fiancé. The one we took him away from to go to the Sanctum. I put a hand on her shoulder for a brief moment before following Steve inside.

"First things first. We need to figure out who is still... here," Natasha says once we're inside the conference room. "The UN set up a census. Everyone left is supposed to check in." She leans over a table, holographic illusions appearing in front of us. Faces flash by. The missing heroes. I can't tear my eyes away from the screens. Wilson, Stark, Barnes, Strange, Wanda, T'Challa...

And Eliza.

"No," I mutter, collapsing into a chair and putting my face in my hands. Thor puts a hand on my shoulder.

"Not all of this is confirmed," Steve says, trying to comfort the group. "If they haven't checked in at one of the census stations, they appear on the list."

"We need to confirm them, then," Bruce growls, pointing at Eliza's image. Green creeps up his neck, but nothing happens. Her picture is outdated, years old, most likely her ID as a SHIELD agent. She's so beautiful. I swallow, trying not to lose it in front of everyone.

"Where was the last time we've seen any of them?" Natasha asks, drumming her fingers on the table, voice emotionless.

"Tony and Eliza were in the Sanctum. Doctor Strange's place," Bruce answers. "Someone should go check there."

"I'll go," I volunteer, getting a few sympathetic and unsure looks from those around me, like they think this isn't the best idea. It probably isn't, but I want to know what happened to my wife as soon as possible.

"And I'll go with him," Thor says, nodding. "We can be back within minutes."

"Are we sure that's safe?" Natasha asks. She gestures around the room. "What if he's there?"

"If he's there and she isn't, he's going to wish he never existed," I snarl, clenching my fists as Thor shoots me a warning glance. Steve nods.

"Okay. Do that. We'll try to figure everyone else out," he replies. We don't say goodbye, I just grab my brother's hand and teleport us to the Sanctum.

We appear seconds later on the staircase. Thor trips down a step or two, not used to teleporting. Like Eliza always does. Stop it, I scold myself. Don't remind yourself of her.

Everything reminds me of her.

"Hello?" Thor calls out, gripping Stormbreaker menacingly. Debris is all over the foyer, and the door is gaping open. I shut it with magic, not wanting to see the damage outside.

"Eliza?" I yell, running from room to room. All empty. "Eliza!"

"Brother," Thor says softly, "she's not here. You know that."

"But- she can't be- she has to be..." I trail off, staring at the ground.

"Is there anywhere else we could look?"

I start to shake my head, then change my mind. "Home."

"Let's try there," he suggests. I close my eyes and nod. I grip Thor's hand and teleport again, landing about fifty feet from the cottage. Despite the crater from the spaceship, the place looks exactly the same. My feet start moving before my mind does, carrying me past Thor, up the front steps, and into the house.

"Eliza!" I call. "Love, are you in here?" Silence. I run into the living room. A few books lay scattered on the coffee table, and mugs of tea sit cold in the kitchen. Upstairs I find nothing but handwritten biology notes and a nicely made bed. Everything is exactly how we left it. I finally let it sink in: she's gone.

I grab the first thing I see - an empty glass - from the nightstand and smash it against the wall, allowing my fingers  to be cut by the sharp edges. Gone. I grip the edge of her desk and try to hold myself together. As blood drips from my hands, blue begins to spread across my body. Glancing up, I realize I don't know the man in the mirror. His scarlet eyes have grown desperate and misty with tears. A sob escapes my mouth before I can stop it.

She's gone. I couldn't save her. I said I would protect her. She's gone and she's not coming back.

A soft purr interrupts my dark thoughts. Ophelia peeks out from under the bed, her big blue eyes looking at me questioningly. I take a deep breath, gathering control before I burn her. Once I'm completely back in my Asgardian form, I reach a hand to the kitten, slowly drawing her out and scooping her up once I do. I quickly summon a satchel and put her inside. She sticks her head out like a curious puppy. In spite of the still-wet tears on my face, I chuckle a bit.

I find Thor downstairs, examining photos on a bookshelf. I remember each moment vividly. A photograph of when we went to the state fair and ate our weight in cotton candy. A shot taken moments after she tried to teach me how to cook. A picture with Steve at the wedding. A photo of Ophelia and I the day I brought her home. A "family photograph" of all of the Avengers, taken years ago. And many, many more.

"I thought I'd give you a minute," he mutters, setting a frame down. A photo of Eliza and Thor dancing at one of Stark's infamous parties. "Are you ready?" If he sees my tear-stained cheeks, he's gracious enough not to mention it.

I nod. "Let's just go," I say in a low voice.

Welcome to "The Prince and the Sol"!