"Warwickshire?" Thor repeats. "What is this place?"
"It's a city. Or a town...I think," you say. "I don't actually know. But Loki told me once that it was the inspiration for that stupid play he's been reading."
"A play?" Thor questions. "My brother has long been an avid patron of the arts, but...I don't understand what influence the theatre holds over him now."
You huff in exasperation, fingers tingling with the adrenaline born from the ticking clock in your head. You're taking too long. Thor isn't understanding fast enough. Loki might be in trouble, and you need to get to him. Before it's too late.
"I don't have time to explain it all right now," you say. "But there's a place Loki thinks of as ours. His and mine. I mean...we've never been there. But he talked about it all the time. If he's not in any of his usual places, maybe he's there," you urge.
Thor pauses to think, a tiny muscle in his forehead pulsing as he runs a hand through his hair. As he ponders the path forward, your own memories take you back to the evenings before Loki's release from the tower. To your almost nightly rendezvous with the raven-haired god. To one night in particular, when you were dancing in the space in-between awake and asleep in Loki's lap as he held a book in one hand, and used the other to alternate between carding through your hair, and letting his long fingers drift down the delicate skin of your neck.
"Are you asleep, darling?"
"Nuh-uh."
"Hmm, yes. Quite convincing."
"Not my fault, Loki. You've been reading for hours. I'm tired. And bored."
"Perhaps you'd care to join me?"
"Pass."
"Suit yourself."
"Why won't you ever watch TV with me?"
"Why won't you ever read with me?"
"Fine. What do you want me to read? And don't say you want me to read that stupid play again."
"Stupid play?! Darling, you really have no grasp for good literature."
"You've read it a hundred times."
"A hundred and three."
"Pick something else?"
"Not until I understand the ending."
"What are you talking about? You've already finished it. A hundred and three times, by your own count."
"I've read it, yes, but I don't yet understand it."
"What does that mean?"
"It means I find the mortal compulsion to forsake one's home, perhaps even die, for love quite insensible."
"I think that just means you haven't experienced real love yet."
"Oh? Is that what you think?"
"Well...have you?"
"You do realized that I have lived for over a thousand years, do you not? In my travels I have met an unfathomable number of men and women alike."
"That's not an answer."
"Is it not?"
"You're avoiding my question."
"Hush, darling. Now come closer. Let me read to you."
"All you do is read."
"And what else do you propose I do up here?"
"Can't we watch a movie or something instead?"
"Absolutely not."
"Ugh. Fine. Which part are you at?"
"They've just escaped into our forest."
"You mean 'their' forest?"
"No kærasta, our forest."
The memory fades as quickly as it had settled upon you, and it leaves you empty. Aching.
"My lady?" Thor questions, his blue eyes pulling you back into the moment. "Are you well?" he asks, concern in his gaze.
"Y-yeah," you stammer, sucking in a deep breath. "Sorry, I was just...thinking."
Thor's expression darkens, his gaze narrowing in concern as he glances to your wrought hands. He reaches out and takes your left, turning your palm over to find the shallow creases stained red.
Without realizing it, you've cut your palm open again with the razor-sharp edge of your nail.
Thor sighs deeply, and reaches for the edge of his cape. He dabs at the cut - the red of your blood fading seamlessly into the fibers. "There is a madness in you both that I do not understand," Thor says helplessly.
You let out a tearful scoff. "Me either."
"I suppose right now understanding is of little consequence," Thor grumbles. "First we must find my brother. Then, perhaps, we can work toward understanding. Come," Thor says, holding out his hand to you. "If you wish to join me in my search."
Eagerly, you take Thor's hand as he turns his face to the sky, and calls out.
"Heimdall! Old friend. I know you have very little patience for my brother. But I thank you for bringing me here. I must ask your assistance once more. Please, take us to this Warwickshire so that I may save his life."
Thor grabs you by your waist, pulling you in tight, and you brace yourself for that uncomfortable sensation of the floor falling away and the wind sucking you in, but it never comes.
"Heimdall!" calls Thor. Yet you remain on the balcony of Stark Tower.
Growing frustrated, Thor releases you, yelling up to the sky.
"Why, Heimdall?" shouts Thor, growing increasingly agitated. "He is my brother! If I can save him, I must try. You would deny me that?"
The lump in your throat rises as Thor continues to shout to Heimdall, yet you both remain steadfast on the balcony of Stark tower. After several long minutes, Thor gives up, throwing his hammer violently to the ground, cracking the concrete causing you to wince.
Taken aback by Thor's anger, you give him a moment to calm before speaking. "Do you think he can't hear us?" you question.
"I think," Thor says, casting an angry glance up to the sky. "That the gatekeeper works in mysterious ways. I know not why he remains silent now, despite his earlier intervention."
"Well, we can't wait for him to decide to help," you urge. "We need to go, Thor."
"Aye," Thor muses. "But I presume this forest you speak of to be vast. Do you know by which tree he stands, or near which river he sits?"
"No, but-."
"That is why I ask for help," Thor says, frustrated. "If you are right, then we do not have time to waste. We must get help from the Gatekeeper. But I do not know why Heimdall does not answer."
Thor paces across the balcony, speaking animatedly with his hands as he stares up at the once blue sky, now darkened with whispered promises of rain. Powerless, you take several steps away from Thor in attempts to have a private conversation with Heimdall.
"Heimdall, please," you say quietly. "You already helped once, why not now?" Silence answers as frustration grows in the pit of your stomach. "Is this one of those 'don't meddle in human affairs unless it's problem for the Aesir' issues?" you challenge. "Because if it is, this is Loki's life we're talking about. Isn't that the definition of a 'problem for the Aesir'?!"
You wait, expecting a response of some kind after such an argument. But again you get nothing. Just a gentle breeze that kisses your cheek.
"Then what?!" you challenge. "What are you waiting for? Did I... did I make a mistake? Is he not where I think he is? Because...I know he's there, Heimdall," you urge. "He wouldn't go anywhere else," you say, lip trembling as you glance over at Thor across the balcony now sitting on the ground - head in his hands as tired, unwashed strands of blond hair fall over his shoulders.
"Just tell us what you want," you huff. "Is it Thor?" you question. "Is there something you need from Thor? Or is it me?" you ask. "Is there something I have to do to earn your help? Because...I know I've been an asshole, okay? But I was hurt. And I was confused and...you know what? No," you say, tears brimming in your eyes. "I know I can't keep pretending like I'm the only victim here, Heimdall. Please I have to tell him-," you choke on the words that sit on your tongue. The ones you should have reached for before it was too late. "I have to tell him that I forgive him," you whisper, a tear rolling down your cheek.
Suddenly, a bright light surrounds your body, and you feel the ground begin to fall away from your feet as the wind seems to suck you up into a tube of stunning color. Then, as quickly as it formed, it was gone.
You look down at your feet, and see grass. Looking up, you're in a small clearing in a wooded area. Alone.
Our forest.
Your heart starts pounding.
"Loki?" you call out, eyes darting from tree to tree. "LOKI?" you call out desperately. But nothing answers, beyond the faint whistle of the wind through barren trees, and the distant chirping of birds hidden somewhere in their branches. Growing panicked, unsure of where you really even are, you glance around hoping Thor is somewhere behind you. But you're alone. The realization makes it hard to breathe. "Calm down," you whisper to yourself, taking a step forward as the crunch of twigs and dry leaves beneath your heel seem to echo in the vacuum of the forest.
But that single step gives you momentum. You take another. And another. Until you're running through the trees, casting frantic glances over each bush and around each trunk. If Heimdall is all-seeing, you figure he would have put you nearby. So you keep going.
"LOKI!" You shout.
Your lungs start to burn as tears from the cold, harsh wind sting your eyes. You stop, collapsing against a tree as its rough bark bites into your back through your thin t-shirt. Shivering, you stumble forth to the next one, choking back a desperate sob.
Think, Y/n. Think. Find him. You have to find him.
You close your eyes, taking a deep breath and fighting the panic in your heart. With a deep breath, you reach for your Perception, beckoning warmth into your cheeks as tension builds in your chest. It grows - stronger and stronger - until finally it snaps into place. You cast your intention as far and wide as you can, hoping against all hope that you find something. Anything.
You search for several long minutes, your Perception snaking through the forest but finding nothing. Until something snags in your chest. Something distant. Something...wounded. Although weak and far off, you recognize it.
Loki.
Your eyes fly open and you take off, ignoring the thickets as they bite at your ankles and knocking away the branches that swing at your face. The closer you get, the stronger the emotions become.
Until finally, you can see them.
Tiny golden threads - frayed and unraveling - start to seep out from around the trees. With each step they seem to beckon to you, reaching out and wrapping around your wrists and up your arms. You try to bat them away but they keep crawling up your body, wrapping themselves around your legs. Against the frigid English air they lay like warm blankets on your skin. You give in to their pull, and let them guide you forward as the energy gets closer - stronger. They lead you straight into a tangled wall of grove hedges. You cover your face and push straight through them, landing in a small clearing.
There, in the middle of the clearing, sits Loki.
Frozen, you look upon him in horror as he sits on the ground holding the blade of his scepter to his own chest, head bowed.
"NO!" you scream, scrambling forward. You stumble, falling to the ground as you manically crawl on your hands and knees the final few paces, grabbing the scepter with both hands. You yank at it with all your strength, ripping it from Loki's loose grip and tossing it away.
Loki looks up in shock, tears streaming down his face. You throw yourself into his arms, knocking him over as you both fall into an uncomfortable bed of dirt and sticks and dry leaves on the forest floor.
"Are you CRAZY?" you shout, taking two angry fistfuls of his shirt and shaking him. "What is WRONG with you?!" you scream, beating his chest with angry hands.
"Y/n?" you hear Loki say your name, weak and confused.
Descending into full sobs, you fall atop him fully, sobbing into his chest as you hold him tight. It only takes a brief second before his arms wrap around you, pulling you into an even tighter embrace upon the forest floor as he turns and buries his damp face in your neck.
Together the two of you cling to one another, holding each other tightly, afraid to let go. Afraid to even pull away to look each other in the eye. Afraid that if you do, the other might just disappear - nothing more than a figment of the other's imagination.
Until your relief gives way to anger.
You pull yourself from his grasp, scrambling backwards and to your feet leaving Loki on the ground. Your chest heaves, but you say nothing as Loki sits there, covered in bug bites with matted hair and hollow cheeks.
In his eyes you see only pain and misery.
"Get up," you command in a whisper.
Loki swallows, glancing away as he finds himself unable to hold your gaze.
"I said get up, Loki," you say through clenched teeth.
Loki's eyes drift back to you - wary and tired. He stands, and you realize he once more wears his Asgardian robes - torn and dirty. Your hands tremble as he takes a step toward you. But you take a matching step back. When you do, he lets out a broken exhale.
"Why are you here?" he says, his voice weak but cold.
"To stop you from making a stupid choice!" you urge. "I mean, what are you thinking? Have you lost your mind?!"
"So it appears," he seethes. "Alongside everything else I hold dear."
"So what?" you challenge, growing angry. "The best thing for you to do is kill yourself?!"
"IT IS BETTER THAN AN ETERNITY DAMNED TO THIS PLACE!" Loki shouts back with a snarl as the vein in his forehead throbs with centuries of pent up anger and resentment. "I have been abandoned here!" he yells, spit flying as his face reddens. "I have been reduced to that which I most detest, left with nothing but hollow promises of a sour redemption we know all too well lie beyond my capabilities," he spits. "And you," he sneers, taking an aggravated step.
"What about me?!" you challenge, meeting the irate god head on.
Loki's jaw clenches and his nostrils flare. But the seconds pass, and he says nothing. The fire in his eyes cools, turning tepid as simple hurt replaces the anger and disgust from moments earlier.
"What about me, Loki?" you plead in softer desperation.
His brow twitches at the unspoken plea in the intimation of your voice. He parts his lips to speak, but before he speaks a look of defeat crosses his face and his shoulders sag. "Why did you-?" Loki's voice falters. He swallows as he casts his gaze to the ground, now unable to meet your eye. "Why have you come?" he questions in little more than a whisper.
Your own emotions wage war inside your chest, as part of you wants to scream at him. Berate him for doing something so incredibly stupid. Prod him with questions until you have no voice left. But the other part? The other part is scared. Scared that you almost lost him. Scared that you might lose him again.
It's that fear that wins out.
In three hesitant steps, you're less than an arm's length away from the raven-haired god, who keeps his gaze firmly glued to the ground. Slowly, you reach out a single hand to his chest, fingers drifting over the tear where he had held the scepter to his heart. The moment your fingers graze him, Loki's chest tenses as he holds his breath. You run your fingers over the ripped edge of the fabric several times before letting your gaze travel up his neck and to his eyes.
"Look at me," you say.
Loki refuses, unable to bring his emerald eyes to yours.
"Damnit, Loki. Look at me."
Slowly, Loki brings his gaze to yours, and in them you see an unbelievable amount of sadness and guilt. Dark blues and greens swirl around his head as those golden threads start to disappear - leaving behind only the sadness and the disgust. Disgust at himself. At his own weakness. At his own confusion.
"Before the mission," you whisper. "When you and Thor were arguing outside my door, I heard him ask you something. He asked you...if I would be able to forgive you once I knew the truth of what you had done," you say.
Loki goes completely rigid.
"I didn't know what he meant," you say, tears brimming in your eyes as your fingers linger on that tear in his robes. "Until the mission. Until I saw what you did. He was my friend. He saved me. And you-," you say, voice breaking. "You took him away from me."
Loki's green gaze finally flits up from your hand on his chest to your eyes. The moment he meets yours a surge of fire spreads through your chest. His own emotions flare, as a rich and heady purple threads its way through the darkest of hues that pour from his aura. You recognize this color. It's desire. But not lust. Simply...painful wanting.
"I'm still angry. I'm still...confused. And I have questions," you continue. "But...right now I only need an answer to one."
"Ask it," Loki breathes.
"Do you regret it?" you whisper.
Loki's jaw tenses and his teeth grind as the muscle in his jaw twitches. His aura pulses in a dark, shimmering red the color of old blood.
"More than you could possibly know."
You exhale sharply, lip trembling as a tear falls down your cheek. "Then...that's why I'm here. The answer is yes."
Loki's brow furrows in confusion.
"Yes, I can...I can forgive you," you whisper.
Loki's lips part in surprise as his eyes search yours, flitting desperately between the depths of your irises as he searches for any sign of deceit. "You...forgive me?" he exhales.
You nod rapidly. "Yeah," you laugh tearfully. "I guess I do."
His eyes brim with unshed tears, red and irritated at the waterline as his lips curve into a deep frown. His demeanor turns skeptical as he takes a step back from you, and glances around the clearing as if paranoid.
"Is this a trick?" he questions, voice weak. "A test? Another illusion born from my father's sadism?" he snarls, spitting out the word father.
Your heart breaks as Loki's gaze turns manic. So you take another few steps forward, and press your hand flat against his chest as you speak. "No tricks," you say simply.
"But how?" he questions, tears now brimming in his own verdant gaze. "I killed the innocent. Murdered those you loved-," a single tear falls down his porcelain cheek as his voice breaks - the once boastful and arrogant son of Asgard reduced to little more than tear stained cheeks, dirt streaks, and ripped clothes.
"If you could change that, would you?" you ask in a whisper.
"Yes," Loki exhales.
"That's how I can forgive," you say. "I can't hold your past against you anymore than you can hold mine against me. And...I'm sorry."
"Sorry?" Loki questions, confusion rife in his voice. "Whatever for?"
"For not realizing that sooner," you whisper. "Can you forgive me too?"
"Oh, my darling," Loki exhales in a broken, strained whisper as he raises his own hand to cover yours as it rests on his chest. "There is nothing in this realm that requires an apology from you."
You let out a tearful laugh as Loki leans forward to rest his forehead against your own. You both lean into the warmth of the other. As you reach for his neck with your free arm, pulling you even closer together, Loki's eyes squeeze shut as he struggles to keep his breathing steady between the tears that drip off his dark lashes.
"I am undeserving of this woven blessing," he finally whispers into the quiet of the woods. "Just as you are undeserving of the pain I've caused you," he exhales nuzzling his nose against your own. "I will spend the days we have doing what I can to make up for that which I've stolen from you."
"Oh, have I not told you yet?" you grin with a small, teasing smile on your lips.
But Loki is too overwhelmed - too exhausted - to spot it. "Told me what?" he asks somberly.
"Loki...Phil isn't dead."
Loki stares at you blankly. "I...don't understand," he says.
"He's alive," you whisper, curling your fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck.
"Impossible," Loki says, eyes flaring wide in shock. "He can't be alive. I killed him. I tore his heart out, I...I watched him as he laid dying."
You wince as flashes of Phil's bloody, limp body flash through your head. You realize very quickly that those flashes aren't yours, but Loki's. You pull back, putting space between the two. As soon as your foreheads no longer touch, the memories fade. But Loki's horrified expression remains.
"Loki," you whisper using a gentle hand to turn his face back to yours. "I don't know why, and I definitely don't know how, but he's alive. I saw it," you say.
After a moment of stunned silence, a relieved smile breaks out across Loki's face as a single tear rolls down his cheek. "Thank the gods," he exhales, surging forward and wrapping his arms around your waist, picking you up and spinning you once before simply holding you close - your arms wrapped tightly around his neck.
"Come home, Loki," you whisper in his ear. "Please."
Loki lowers you slowly to the ground as he gives you a curious, almost skeptical, look. "Home?" he asks.
"Yes. Home. With me."
Loki inhales sharply, then without warning reaches for your face, taking it gently between both of his cold, slender hands as he pulls you into him and kisses you deeply. Passionately. You melt into his kiss and return it just as eagerly, having desperately missed the feeling of your fingers in his hair. Loki deepens the kiss, holding you tightly - more tightly than he's ever held you before - as he pours every missed and unspoken word into his kiss. Just as your head goes dizzy and your lungs scream for air, he pulls away. For a long, quiet moment he simply stares at you.
And the look in his eye makes your blood run cold.
"What's wrong?" you question, worry in your voice.
Loki stifles a sad, exhaled laugh and reaches for the stray strand of hair that has fallen in your face. "Do you know how many hours I lingered here, unable to put that blade through my chest?"
"Stop it," you frown. "Don't...don't talk like that."
"Do you know what stayed my hand?" he questions.
"Loki, seriously, don't-."
"You," he says.
You inhale sharply as those tears you only just managed to chase away return at the sight of the sorrow and longing you see in Loki's eyes. He reaches out and brushes one away with his thumb, offering you a small smile before pulling you close, and pressing his lips to yours once more.
After a few moments, he breaks the kiss to lean in and whisper in your ear.
"I love you, my darling."