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One punch, and then another.

The sound of flesh and metal meeting flesh. The sound of flesh being thrown against walls - and the walls being broken, the body slumping aside, apparently unharmed.

But Loki wasn’t unharmed - Verity heard the snapping of bones, saw Loki cradle his arm carefully, saw that Loki was hurting from far more than the faint bruises in his face.

“Let’s have it out, then. The truth I’ve hidden from both of you.”

She still didn’t understand what had happened. They were laughing one moment - making the most juvenile of jokes - and Thor was there, giving a small smile at them. And then, and then…

“You should step back.” Thor’s voice was grim, his stance alone a warning but Verity wasn’t listening, the ebb of humor from their earlier, carefree jokes now gone, the sudden change in moods leaving her off balance.

There were so vague - and they were telling the truth, as far as she could tell, but nothing made sense…

“My best friend, always so literal.”

A sharp crack, Loki falling, repeated dull pounds as Thor raised his fists and Loki - Loki who could talk himself out of any situation with naught but a smooth speech and a jaunty smile - not stopping Thor at all.

Verity didn’t know what was going on between the two brothers, but that didn’t mean she would stand by and let her best friend - her only friend - be pummeled into dust. She screamed, called for reason, even tugged pathetically at Thor’s cape, but she might have not been in the room at all for all the good it did.

Thor threw Loki out the window, crashing into the streets and followed his trajectory. Verity screamed and watched from the broken window, unable to survive the drop or risk them leaving (or doing something worse) if she turned to run down the stairs.

A flash of lightening and goats bigger than she was - bigger than Thor - appeared and…

And Loki and Thor were both gone.

It’d been hours, and the memory was still so fresh in Verity’s mind that she lay, suspended in shock, on her bed, her mind agonizing over the details she hadn’t concentrated on as clearly during the actual fight.

She’d stood in shock for several minutes - perhaps longer - after they’d gone, the rain, summoned by Thor in his rage slowly dissipating, before she got it in her head that she wouldn’t want to be discovered in the aftermath of a knock-out battle between gods, however one-sided.

She made her way numbly from the broken in window, her clothes soaked, and her eyes fell on the blood splatters.

Loki’s blood.

Hot tears fell from her eyes, and nausea threatened to overwhelm her. For all the ‘adventures’ Loki had dragged her on, Verity hadn’t actually seen blood spilled during them - not like this. She pushed the urge to vomit back - his brother did this to him, her mind whispered urgently, how could he do this to his brother when Loki was begging him to listen - that he couldn’t lie?

Because Loki lied, Verity answered unwittingly. And Thor wasn’t a living lie detector like Verity was - he couldn’t know automatically when Loki told the truth or told a lie like she could.

Verity dully made her way to her own apartment, not even remembering the trip.  Her mind was filled with fog, but Verity clearly remembers stopping to grab something on her way out.

Two very important things.

The first was Loki’s Starkphone, tossed on the floor of his apartment after Thor upended the furniture. The second was cast entirely of gleaming gold - the horn Thor had snapped off Loki’s headpiece when he aimed a hit brutally on his brother’s head.

Verity had been staring at the items for hours now, trying to come up with an answer as to what she should do - if anything - when Loki’s phone beeped:  he’d received a text message.

 Verity picked the phone up, her mind numbly deciding to read it - maybe it was one of Loki’s connections, one that could give her an idea as to what to do - and pushing down the naive hope that it was, somehow, Loki texting his own phone, to tell Verity he was alright, that he was back and had guessed she’d taken his phone.

The text was in another language - Old Norse, or Swedish - she couldn’t tell what it was, but it wasn’t English. Verity growled under her breath - there was nothing in the text that could be of any help to her - even the addressee information wasn’t in English.

Verity dismissed the message, and found to her disgruntlement, that not a thing in Loki’s phone was written in English. The numbers in his contact list were still written in English numerical, but everything else was gibberish to Verity.

And any contacts of Loki were not the type to receive a call from a confused mortal asking who they were just so she could see if they’d be of help. And that was if they’d be the type to help - even for a debt owed by the trickster - in the first place.

Verity placed the phone back on her bed, grabbing Loki’s broken horn instead. It was scratched a little, from where it’d been broken off, but was otherwise as immaculate as ever. It would have to be durable, Verity supposed, to be constantly on the head of someone who got into as much trouble as Loki did.

She wondered if she should’ve tried to pick up the remains of Gram before the cops showed up, but Loki had warned her about volatile magics in the wake of artifacts being broken, and hadn’t.

Come to think of it, she probably should’ve been worried about that with Loki’s horn as well, because it’d be like Loki to enchant his headpiece in some way or another;  but nothing had happened to her when she picked it up, and still hadn’t by now so she was probably safe.

“Please… just be alive.” Verity whispered, holding the gold piece closer, as if Loki could hear her through it. “That’s all I want. Please.”

If Loki was alive he could still talk his way out this - whatever this was - and barring that, slip away into one of his pathways while everyone was worked up, while their backs were turned to the source of chaos in the room.

For several moments, Verity merely clung tightly to the golden horn - she’d mocked him for his sense of fashion several times, but he’d always smiled mysteriously and said it suited him. There was truth in his statement, but Verity didn’t understand what the joke was, and didn’t ask.

Eventually, she set the phone on her nighttable, and slinked under her covers. Her mind had been in shock for so long, now that she was coming down from that frenzy she was so tired…

She kept a tight grip on Loki’s horn - glittering weakly in the moonlight, and she dreamt. Of her first meeting with Loki during that ridiculous speed-dating she hadn’t even really wanted to attend in the first place. Of the first time her heart leapt when Loki smiled at her - eyes crinkled at the force of his smile, teeth gleaming in his humor… The first heist - her first adventure… the nights he cooked for her, listened to her…

“Oh, wow. Are we cosplaying now?”

“I don’t know. Are we?”

"Well, one of us is."

"Brave heart…Verity. There are people in this world who will never lie to you. Not me, obviously. But they do exist. I promise.

“That’s really sweet… Will I see you again?”

“Oh, probably.”

This couldn’t be the end. It just couldn’t be.

And then, in the late hours of the night, when the stars gleamed weakly, someone knocked on her door.

--

“Asgardians! Hearken to me! For I bring dark news!” Black words, cruel with no sympathy.

“I’m sorry! Please, Thor! I’m sorry! Come back! COME BACK!” Weakly at first, begging, but gaining strength as he went.

“I have not the strength to end the worthless life before me… and so his punishment must fall to other hands.” A pitiless pronouncement, but for once Loki could not say Thor was not thinking - he wanted Loki dead, and he might not be able to do it himself, but the crowd in front of him, Sif and the Warriors Three especially, would be all too eager to.

“If there is justice in Asgardia…. We shall never meet again.”

Cries ignored, Loki collapsed, his will and fight abandoning him. His older self would mock him, if he was there to see it.

Quite the crowd had already gathered before Thor began to speak, they having sensed the former thunderer’s imminent return by virtue of his rather unsubtle goats, but even more had gathered once they learned he was denouncing his dark, villainish brother once and for all, after so long of preaching that Loki could be saved, if only they tried.

A cry of joy went out - long had Asgardia longed to be rid of Loki’s shadow, even when he returned a helpless child, and now - now they had the permission to. There was still argument, of course, of who would do the deed - but Loki paid no attention to it.

His wit had fled him the moment he needed it most, when he needed to show Thor how much he was trying to change… how hard he tried to honor the Child Loki’s sacrifice, the gift of his ability to change.

Volstagg, Loki registered dimly, was demanding answers of him, and for calm of the crowd, but Loki did not turn his gaze from where Thor had left without a backwards glance, unable to care what happened to him. Poor Volstagg, Loki knew, had been the most accommodating of Thor’s friends when he was still the Child Loki, and would of course be distressed to hear he was no more…

But his mind was still so shocked, at Thor’s predicable anger, that Loki could spare no more thoughts to his surroundings, instead entranced by the voice of Thor’s accusation over and over…

“Sneering -- And Laughing -- Laughing and Laughing -- and laughing! STOP! STOP LAUGHING!”

He had never laughed. But Thor was too filled with grief to hear him. 

It was this scene Odin came upon. He, like many others, had heard Thor’s pronouncement through his ravens, and had come as quickly as he could. It was only recently he began to hope that Loki might be saved, and he was able to admit the discovery of his only daughter’s continued life and Loki’s hand in that event was responsible for most of it.

Odin had not trusted the innocent boy Loki had been reborn as - it had been so easy to believe it was just another long ploy of Loki’s. If he had, however, given the innocent boy the benefit of the doubt… perhaps the incident with Mephisto could have been prevented…

But Odin could not dwell on the ‘what ifs’. He had only the present to concentrate on.

Odin would not make the same mistake with this Loki - who was so desperately clinging to his thin strands of redemption like a drowning man would wood. This time, Odin realized he could succeed - if given the correct support that the Child Loki had not had.

It did not take more than looking at Loki’s numb, lost face to tell Odin that Thor had finally discovered the reason behind Loki’s rapid aging and disappearance after said Mephisto incident. Odin - and for that matter Loki as well - had known that Thor would not care for the subtleties of the incident, the necessity and follies that had created the need. Thor would only care that he’d failed, once more, to protect his brother, and lash out no matter how he’d found out.

Admittedly, this was one of the worse scenarios Odin envisioned, but that was something Odin could discuss with them later. Now, the most important thing was diffusing the mob surrounding the despondent Loki. Sif had finally enough of the confusion and shouting and had gone straight to the source, clasping Loki’s’ armor and shaking him, demanding answers - answers she would not be getting, if the glazed look on Loki’s face was anything to go by.

“ENOUGH!” Odin shouted, and the crowd quieted instantly.

Sif did not release her hold on Loki, but she did lower him, clearly waiting for Odin’s command.

“I will take him.” Odin pronounced, and none dared oppose him; Sif easily relinquishing her hold on Loki to the All Father. Odin did not think Loki would be getting quite the punishment Sif thought he would be getting, if the vicious look on her face was anything to go by.

Loki did not seem to notice Odin until he gently took a hold of Loki’s unbroken arm, easing the still despondent godling into a standing position.

“Father.” Loki’s distant eyes slid over Odin’s face, as if waiting for a similar renouncement as Thor.

“Come.” Odin said quietly, gently but urgently urging Loki inside, away from the still blood-thirsty crowd - let them satisfied with the idea that Odin was handling Loki himself for now.

Loki was distressingly obedient - not even as a reborn child new to Asgardia would he have allowed himself to be so easily and complacently dragged to Odin’s personal chambers. For now, Odin would take what he could get - Loki would be far more safe there than in any prison cell.

Not the least, because Odin knew what the All-Mothers held in the dungeons. Odin himself had not yet reached a conclusion of the ‘Loki’ that claimed allegiance to Asgardia, but he could not risk it - not when so much held in the balance. He may have washed his hands of the All-Mother’s plans for the so called ‘prisoner’, but that did not mean he was no less wary of it and any possible repercussions.

“And what is your pronouncement, All-Father?” Loki asked, and Odin barely heard him, so weak was his voice.

“There shall be no talk of sentencing today.” Odin said carefully, watching Loki’s blank face. “I will handle to crowd and the Warriors Three. Sif and Thor as well.”

Loki’s face edged towards anger. “You would ignore my crimes then?”

“You have been obediently serving Asgardia well since then.” Odin reminded him that they had talked, in their own way, after Loki had forced his return during the war with Heven, and during the reality inverting spell.

“The All Mothers would disagree with you.” Loki said pointedly, and Odin grimaced at the proof that Loki knew of the Old One in the dungeons. 

“And so I will deal with them.” He said sternly. They were in his chambers, the doors sealed shut - eons of protective magic more than Loki ever managed to install in his own rooms before he left Asgard for good, all those years ago. None, not even the All Mothers, would dare to - or be able to - enter his chambers to get to Loki.

Odin took in Loki’s tired, resigned face.

“Sleep.” He commanded, lifting a hand to his child’s bruised face. Surprise of all surprises, Loki did not fight the sleeping spell Odin weaved into the gesture, instead leaning into his hand, closing his eyes in trust.

Or resignation. It was difficult to tell, as never had Odin encountered any version of Loki so removed from his turmoil or emotions. Of course, the other Loki’s emotions were usually rather limited - mostly to anger, if Odin was being honest.

Spell having taken hold, Odin gently laid Loki upon his bed. Careful of his broken arm, Odin sent a pain-numbing spell as well. It was the least he could do until he could safely get Eir into his chambers.

He had much to do, and little time in which to do it.

--

Loki awoke suddenly, with the sense he was not alone. It did not take but a turning of his head to discover the source.

The All Mother.

And his other self - of course.

Loki made to move - perhaps a mocking bow - but found his arms restrained. His broken arm did not throb as much as he expected it to, and a quick glance showed the workings of the All-Father entwined within in it.

Loki did not expect the level of verklempt he experienced from such a simple - parental, even - gesture.

“Laufeyson.” Freyja said simply. “Have you decided to stop running?”

Behind her, the Old Loki smiled and crackled lowly.

“I’ve not exactly the place to be running.” Loki pointed out.

“Yes. You were hiding.” A hint of a sneer - and urgency. Loki could see how pressed for time she was.

“How is it that you’ve gotten around the All-Father’s spells?” He asked, already suspecting the answer. Anything to buy time, Loki supposed.

“Not I.” Freyja said. “But him. You.”  She nodded towards the Old One.

Of course. Loki as he was now was no match for Odin’s spells - but once he reached the other’s age? It was quite possible - if planned correctly.

“You’ve been waiting for this then.” It wasn’t a question - there was only way they could’ve taken him from the All-Father’s personal chambers and not have a full platoon of guards - and the king himself - descending upon them immediately unless they planned in advance.

And quite a bit in advance too. It would take some time to quietly erode the spells without Odin noticing, let alone to be able to snap them back in place once they snuck out. Even their planning could not have left them much time however, to get what they want from Loki. Not before Odin came looking for him.  

It is for that reason Loki can see why Freyja has given up all form of subtlety, of letting Loki make his own choices that would lead to the path she so wants. Idunn, he notices, is behind Freyja but separated from his older self - Gaia is nowhere to be seen.

He isn’t surprised, Gaia was the most sympathetic to Loki, Freyja would not risk her presence in this vital moment. Idunn did not have the same fervent belief in Loki’s older self, but she despised Loki enough to go along with Freyja’s cold plans.

“It is time for you take your place in fate once more, Laufeyson.” Freyja pronounces, and the Old One behind her finally makes his way towards Loki. The Old One, unlike the All Mother, has no need of fear or anxiety - how often before had he told Loki that he’d already seen this story play out?

He knew exactly what words were needed to get to the end.

And words were a specialty of any Loki.

Bending down level to his younger self, Loki the Elder cusped his younger self’s head gently, and whispered long and low in his ear. The All-Mothers could not hear a word of what was said, but they were not the words’ intended recipient anyway.

Loki the Younger’s mouth opens in a silent scream - the words of denial never forming. His eyes are wide and it is only the Old One’s grasp that keeps him from collapsing.

“You are I.” The Old One says. “You know I lie not. I have no need to.”

Loki’s gaze has not strayed from the Elder’s face. His mouth has shut slightly, but Freyja is cautiously hopeful when he says nothing - Loki believes him. There is perhaps even a tear forming.

Loki the Elder is speaking the truth, and Loki the Younger is all the more broken for it.

“If you don’t want that to happen…” The Old One begins, “Well, you know what you need to do.”

With a cruel grin, the Old One releases the Younger One, and nods towards Freyja. She holds out his jar - the one Loki the Younger used to capture him in the first place, removing him from Thor (What fun that had been, Loki the Elder thinks, while it lasted, at least.) - and Loki the Elder dissipates, easily surrendering himself to the cage.

But it’s not a cage anymore. With no lid, it is now a cup; a vessel - and vessels are made to transport things from one place to another.

Freyja takes the dazed Loki the Younger and forces open his parted lips. He does not fight her, not even when she tips the jar, pouring the liquid of corruption down his throat.

For a long moment he did nothing, the liquid escaping and trailing down his mouth and to his neck and then -

And then he drank.

--

It couldn’t be true, what he was saying. It couldn’t be, it just couldn’t -

But Loki, however bound to tell the truth, was still the God of Lies and always knew when he was being lied to even - even by himself, and knew the Old One spoke the truth.

“Well?” The Old One whispered tauntingly in his ear. “Are you going to let that happen once more? I’ve been kind, I think, to give you time to prevent it.”

Damn him. He already knew the answer.

No. No. Never. Loki would never suffer sitting idly by, not when this threat was hanging over him.

Damn him. Damn him for crushing his hope - his belief of a brighter future.

And damn Loki for giving in.

He couldn’t -He wouldn’t- let the words the Elder said come true once more.

So he let the All-Mother tip his head back. He let his older self in.

Loki let himself be overwritten, just as he himself had overwritten the Child Loki, the only one who changed, who had been good…

And Loki…

Loki was burning, again.

--

 “Well, Old One?” Are the first words Loki hears in his fourth life.

His lips form a smirk before he is aware of it.

“Oh, exactly as planned, All-Mother. Twice born, twice pure - but nay to third! No purity remains in this heart, I assure you.” His words are black with the pleasure of their truth, and his arms are sprawled out dramatically - Loki the Younger would never give such a display.

But he is no longer Loki the Younger.

For all that he has kept his youthful appearance; Loki is no longer the same, Freyja notes. His face, his body, remain unchanged, Loki has not shifted it - nor even changed out of his clothes he’d worn since becoming Asgard’s ‘Agent’.

But he is different all the same. His eyes are older - colder, nearly black instead of bright green. There are wise marks around his eyes, though he has not aged a mote in the little amount of time since the jar touched his lips. His lips are twisted into such a sharp grin that Freyja wants to take a step back, though she does not.

His stance is different as well. Both the Child Loki and the Younger Loki had not the supreme confidence, assurance of who they were to stand so strongly as he was now - as if this war he has already won.

She supposes it is, in a way.

Though he is not garbed in the Elder Loki’s clothes, Freyja sees nothing but the Elder in Loki’s movements now, the self assured gait, the lank that came from creeping and slipping away as the Elder was so prone to.

“That is good, then.” Freyja says finally, deciding it is so. She can find no trace of the foolish, hope-driven Younger Loki in the man before her - only the youth of him remains, and that will soon fade.

There was nothing Odin All Father could do to reverse this now. Asgardia would see its glorious future of peace come to pass after all. It was Loki’s greatest honor and duty, and now they are free of the worry he will refuse it any longer.

Thor will perhaps be glad of it as well, if the renouncement Freyja heard when he deposited Loki for punishment spoke of his thoughts at all.

“Tell us. What did you speak of when you crooned in his ear?” Idunn demands, always having been more suspicious of him and his intentions than Freyja had.

“The truth.” Loki mocks, and oh Freyja can see the infuriating Elder so clearly, but before she can bark at him, Loki is speaking - smirking still - but speaking at least. “The future, if you will. The secret Nicholas Fury whispered into Thor’s ear that made him drop his hammer and not pick it up once more.”

“What?” This is news to Freyja. Thor losing his hammer once more was a great blow - only eased by his successor quickly being chosen, and she did not suspect these two incidents would be so closely related.

“Oh yes.” Loki is nearly crackling at her, but that his usual method of speech, so Freyja will ignore it, so long as he continues to speak the information they need. “Dear Nicholas whispered a vision of the future he saw - the pebble that broke the donkey’s back on poor Loki, and Mjölnir would not suffer a wielder who would do such a deed.”

“What deed?”

“The act of murdering his poor, wounded little brother’s only friend.”

“The woman who senses lies.” Freyja realizes - she had been vaguely on their radar, but never had they suspected the pathetic mortal that important to Loki - merely a plaything to pass the time, perhaps measure his ability to deceive.

“Oh yes.” Loki is as ever, relishing in his own pain, his own burning. “He will remember, perhaps in a few hours, a few days - things have changed a little, I told you - but he will remember the pathetic little mortal that defended his child-killer of a brother and will determine to see her. Will demand to know why she defends the unforgivable.”

Here, Loki pauses, seeming to savor in the memories before continuing.  “And well, he always forgets how fragile mortals can be.”

His voice is little more than a satisfied hiss, but Freyja doesn’t believe there are any lies within the statement. It is troubling then, that the mortal is not yet dead. She will have to take care of that - but first, there are bigger matters at hand.

“And you are pleased by this? Will continue our plans though she lives still?” She asks.

“As I swore - it is a future I desire as well, you know this.” Loki dips his head in her direction.

He has closed the space between them during her thoughts. This is good - it saves Freyja from having to do it herself, and arouse his suspicions.

“Then we are agreed, again.” Freyja nods towards him as well, and holds out a hand for Loki to shake.

He takes it - his mistake.

Quickly as she can - her speed is nothing to laugh at, but there is something to be said for the Elder and Younger having been in battle more frequently than she, but this is a risk she must take - she removes the gantlets hidden in her flowing sleeves and snaps them onto his wrists. The magic in them activates before Loki can do more than shift expression, and the pain of the binding sends him to his knees, screaming.

Freyja feels a moment of relief - but no, there is something wrong. Those are not screams of pain.

“AH HAHAHAHA! Oh, to be young again. So sensitive. I do look forward to teaching this body what real pain feels like again.” Loki pauses enough to gather some feeble breathes, and Freyja can see the flush on his checks, his clothes tight enough to reveal his slight arousal.

Loki notes her gaze, and grins sharply. “I had wondered if you try to do something like this - bind me to obey your whims with compulsion and loyalty spells - but come now! Did you think this enough pain to stop me from fighting the spells? Honestly now, but what could you women do to me that I don’t to myself just for kicks on a Friday night?”

“Sufficient pain or not, they will still bind you.” Freyja begins, but is stopped when Loki easily lifts his bounds hands and tears the gauntlets off like they were no more than wet paper.

“Now, now, you should know better than to trust magic to bind the likes of me. Who was it that broke Odin’s spells in the first place?” Loki jeers at them.

Freyja reaches for her sword, and Idunn backs up, also preparing for the fight that is surely promised in his words.

But --

“No need for that.” Loki hums, easily removing the rest of the chains, the magic fizzling and dissipating. He wears an expression of faint amusement. “I shall take no further action today - it has been rather long day after all.”

Freyja pauses at the admission, but does not relax.

“I say we depart from each other’s presence for now - and part as allies. For now, we are of the same mind are we not? We want Asgarida to be peaceful, and my knowledge of the future is immaterial to that.”

“It is.” Freyja admits. “You care to remain our advisor?”

“I am, as always, your agent, All Mother.” Loki bows a little, and it is enough for Freyja.

She sheaves her sword and nods in his direction. Loki smirks once more before teleporting away - she knows not where, but it is of no concern - for now.

“You caught that, I presume?” Idunn asks.

“Yes. Identifying himself as an agent, still. He has different ideas as to what Asgarida needs than we do.” Freyja agrees, her expression not changing.

“What shall you do about it?” Idunn asks. “The chains failed - we cannot control him without them or the jar…”

The jar, of course, was bespelled by the Younger Loki - now that he exists no longer, taken over by the Elder, his spells exist no more as well. The jar is no longer a viable threat to keeping the Elder under control.

“Do not trouble yourself, Idunn.” Freyja’s eyes grow cold, and Idunn shifts, uncomfortable. “I know exactly what needs to be done.”

She moves to leave the dungeon in which they had hidden Loki the Younger from Odin’s eyes, and Idunn trails after her, but leaves to her own gardens.

Freyja walks to her destination alone.

It suits her purposes well.

--

There is a knock at her door, and Verity is startled awake at it. There are few who would knock - her landlady for rent on the rare times she was late, perhaps, but until she met Loki, Verity had no friends that would causally come over unannounced.

And Loki and Lorelei were not the type to knock, instead teleporting themselves directly inside her living room, no matter how much it irritated her.

Which was probably the entire reason they did it, but that’s not the point. The point is that Verity has no idea who could be knocking, but the hope - the sheer impossibility that it is one from Asgardia come to tell her what’s happened, or even that is Loki himself, downtrodden and repent, minding her boundaries for once, to give her the chance to brood and refuse to hear his explanation, is enough for Verity to drag herself out of bed to her door.

For a reason she cannot name, she places Loki’s horn into her pocket before opening the door.

It is not Loki at the door. It’s not Lorelei either.

A tall, armored woman with an intimidating helmet stands before her, and Verity struggles for a moment before she can speak.

“Um… hello?” Is all she can manage, and the woman (Asgardian?) does not look impressed. Verity doesn’t think she’d be impressed by much though.

“You are Verity Willis?” The woman asks instead, and Verity has the sudden feeling that the strange woman knowing her name is not a good thing.

“Yes?” Verity answers, if only because she can’t think of a way to lie about it without being found out immediately.

Loki probably would’ve been able to, but Verity doesn’t have his talent for lying, however little he used it around her.

“I see.” The woman says, “May I enter?”

“I guess so…?” Verity teeters, moving away from the door enough that the woman can walk inside. It wasn’t like she’d be able to stop her if she wanted in - Verity has nothing on Asgardian mussels, even for a woman as slim as this one.

“I thank you.” The woman says as Verity closes the door, surveying her apartment critically. “You’ve done much for Asgardia, though I think you know it not.”

“Um, if you’re talking about helping out Loki, I didn’t really do much… except for the Latveria thing and even then…”

“I am Freyja, All Mother of Asgarida - I know of that which I speak.” The woman - Freyja says coldly, interrupting Verity’s stutters.

“Though it appears you do not.” Freyja adds, staring at Verity critically.

Verity forces herself not to bristle at the woman.  All- Mother, huh? This then, was the person Loki kept getting orders from… She is speaking the truth, too, but Verity neither knows where she’s going with this, nor likes it.

“Right, and what exactly have I done then?” She asks, trying to muster up her courage.

Freyja eyes grow even colder, and Verity gets the sense that somehow, she’s made a very dangerous enemy.

“How it must’ve have pleased you.” Freyja begins - her words a harsh whisper. “The little mortal lie detector going through her life alone, unwanted for contact and comforts because she could not stand the feel of a single little white lie. And then, on a night like any other you find a mysterious, tortured little God of Lies who desperately searches for redemption. It set your thoughts aflame did it not? It must have seemed too good for you - like those books of romance you would deny are hidden under your bed - like he was your prince charming.”

Verity bites back her question of how this woman knew about those - not even Loki had been to her apartment before, and she certainly never mentioned that she tried to enjoy those books - the ones based on ‘real life’ love stories, because she knew he’d mock her silly for it.

Even if he might smile at her softly afterwards, like he had the first time she’d explained her power.

But Verity doesn’t feel the strength to say anything - instead she is actively backing away from the All Mother, who is now wearing an expression very close to hatred. Loki’s horn feels like it weighs more than it should in her pocket, and cold, as if she hasn’t been holding it for several hours beforehand.

“What with that coquettish smile of his, making your heart flutter and loins tighten in a way no mortal has ever been able to in your short life.” Freyja continues, her anger not cooled by Verity’s show of weakness. “The Great Deceiver speaking only the truth to one small mortal - following her around like an excited puppy - what pleasure it must’ve given you, to think you had such an awesome force at your beck and call.”

“That isn’t how I feel at all.” Verity pushes back the blush of mortification at Freyja’s rant.

Does she find Loki attractive? Hell yes she does, it’d be hard to find someone who didn’t - god of lies or not, he’s still a god of sex (or ‘of certain popular sex acts’ if she was going to use his words) and being attractive is apparently a prerequisite for those types of gods.

Did she want to take her friendship with Loki to something further? Maybe. Loki had lied to her - hurt her - a lot, even if he hadn’t really been trying to, what with being under that spell and all, but that wasn’t even the whole of it.

Verity knew she hadn’t even scrapped the surface of everything Loki was - who he was, who he had been and where he was trying to go. She’d seen the reports, of course, but they were watered down, biased things giving just enough to calm or sufficiently warn normal citizens to stay out his way.

Loki used to be one of the greatest supervillans ever known, and now, for some reason, he wasn’t, didn’t want to be. What had made Loki change his ways was a going difficult beast to tackle and Verity wasn’t sure she was up to the job.

And that was to say nothing of every horrible thing Loki had done before he’d died that one time, before coming back a child. Verity didn’t know if she could look that deep into Loki’s abyss and still love him as she did now.

Did she want to try, though?

If he let her - Verity’s answer would be --

“And this has nothing to do with me, does it? This is all about Loki, isn’t it?” Verity demands, pushing her thoughts away. She isn’t going into details about her relationship with Loki to this woman, Queen or not.

She doesn’t think Freyja even particularly cares how Verity feels about Loki anyway, not with the way she’s looking at her, like a slug that needs to be salted.

“You are correct.” Freyja confirms coldly.

“You are Verity Willis” Freyja intones, as if she’s on trial or something, and Verity doesn’t have the time to think through all the possible meanings behind that before she continues. “And you are the only light of Loki Laufeyson’s life. And it is time that he was shunted back to the darkness in which he belongs.”

Before Verity can confront that pronouncement - the pounding of her chest, hard breaths, the tightness in her heart at being called Loki’s ‘light’ and the emotions and possibilities that brings up- Freyja pulls out a sword.

Like, an actual sword, used to hurt - to kill. And Freyja is aiming it at her.

Verity isn’t a superhero - her only gift is her ability to detect lies. She has no hope of outrunning Freyja or dodging her blows, or even surviving getting scratched by her deadly looking blade. There is in fact, only one thing in her entire home that has even a chance of harming the warrior woman in front of Verity - and its sitting secure in her pocket.

So when Freyja steps forward, expecting the very mortal Verity Willis to cower or even a pathetic try to outrun her fate, the All Mother does not expect the mortal to rush up to her, drawing her hand out of her pocket --

-- And withdrawn Loki’s broken off horn and aim for Freyja’s neck.

She does not reach it, of course. Freyja has been in more battlefields than the years this mortal girl has been alive - several times over, in fact - but in her shock, she doesn’t remain unscathed. In her maneuver to block the girl from reaching her destination, Freyja grabs and breaks the mortal’s arm, hurtling her aside, but the momentum and awkward angle - and the mortal’s refusal, even through the pain, to release her grip on the golden horn - caused the horn to dragged the length across Freyja’s unarmored arm, piercing her skin and unleashing a flow of blood.

“You--!” Freyja breathes, her outrage at the impudence of the mortal before her - even now, slumped and bruised along the floor she has not let go of the golden horn - and oh, the sight of it makes Freyja’s blood boil - there is no Loki waiting for its return, not the one this mortal knows,  but Verity is unaware of that.

“Close your eyes, Verity.” A calm voice calls from behind them, and both women freeze at the tones.

“Loki…?” Verity is embarrassed at the pleasure and relief both present so strongly in her voice. But she trusts Loki, and is wary enough of his tone to not turn around to face him.

“You wouldn’t like to see this, Verity. Trust me. Close your eyes. I will take care of this.” Loki tells her, and Verity, unmoving from where she’d crouched to cradle her broken - scream worthy pain filled - arm, believes him.

She closes her eyes.

Loki is here to protect her, and she’s never felt so relieved to (not) see him.

--

Youthful though he still is, it is Loki the Elder that is crouched menacingly at the mortal’s open window. Loki no longer bears the wardrobe of his younger self, instead switching it out for the fur and armor of the Elder. Fingerless gloves clutch at the window sills, black fingernails clutching at the wooden walls threateningly - cracks forming in his anger.

His headpiece - of which was the origin of the horn the mortal had attacked Freyja with - is gone, replaced with the helmet of enlarged horns the Elder wore.

But there is something within the gaze of Loki that is so purely the Younger that Freyja pauses, her doubt and anger stilling her movements.

Surely the Elder had not failed to completely overwrite the Younger?

“You should have stayed out of this, All Mother.” Loki says, finally stepping down from his perch. “As soon as you found this place, you knew it was under my protection still, so you should have turned away.”

Freyja had known. The dwelling of the mortal had more protections placed around it than she had thought would be there - if only because they were still there, active as if the Younger that had placed them there was still alive.

Placing such warding around his favored mortal’s adobe was standard protection as far as Loki’s acquaintances were concerned, but Freyja had excepted them to fall once her plan of stealing Loki the Younger from under the All Father had succeeded.

She had not expected for the Elder to fail to erase enough of the Younger that his protections still remained around this girl. It was why she had knocked, asked to be allowed in - though for as strong as the wards were, they had been made back when Loki the Younger had been unaware of the All Mother’s plans to see him back into his old form was known, and thus Freyja would be allowed in without having to break the wards down complete.

But apparently even Loki the Younger had been suspicious of them longer than that, if Freyja had not been on the pre-approved list of allowed entrances without being invited in.

Freyja supposed she wasn’t entirely surprised of that though - it was in Loki’s nature to trust no one, not even his allies.

Except, apparently, for this one mortal.

“Had you not forced this, we could have continued to be allied, All Mother.” Loki says, almost as if he truly regrets this course of action.

His words bring Freyja back to her situation.

“Asgarida’s prosperity depends on you following your fate.” Freyja says, coldly convinced. “She is your last - nay, only chance of redemption left. One I cannot allow you to take.”

“Not with Asgardia potentially being harmed, eh?” Loki jeers at her and seems no less surprised than before.

“Why did you speak of the truth then, before leaving our company?” Freyja asks, genuinely curious. “Why did you not leave us with no more knowledge than we had before of your mortal?”

“Because I wanted to see what would happen.” Loki says honestly, and Freyja realizes this is a very - well, Loki answer - and the truth.  “And now I have my answer.”

“And what will you do with your answer?” Freyja asks, already knowing the answer and preparing her wounded arm for battle.

“Kill you, of course.” Loki answers, as if it is the most obvious thing in the world.

Freyja studies his face and supposes it is, to this Loki.

--

Freyja is the All Mother - the long-lived wife of Odin All Father, his bride from the War of Vanaheim, and is no less a woman and warrior than Odin deserves.

Even still, she is not a match for Loki the Younger and Loki the Elder - not together as they are, anyway.

For they are together in this body.

Surprise, surprise, Loki mocks Freyja in his thoughts, the Trickster tricked you.

For all that Loki the Elder had spoken the truth about what had happened in the future - Verity’s death being among his truths, he had lied (no surprise - the merging had broken the remnants of the spells that kept him truthful) about all his reasons for returning to the past, from a future in which he was the boring, reoccurring antagonist of the Good King Thor.

“I came back to save you.” The Elder whispered in his ear, after he speaks of Verity’s death, and Loki is choking, choking, because Verity can’t die - and the Elder is crooning softly to him, his gentle hold mocking.

“It is so very boring; doing what is expected of me. You saw the future I would carve for Latveria. It is the future I would carve for all realms if I could, but alas, I changed my mind about redemption too soon for me to be unpredictable enough for that to happen. So when I cast my mind back, and remembered my rage and grief at her death, I thought: What would happen were I to stop that? And, oh, the possibilities were endless.”

Loki is still in shock, still disbelieving that he will lose Verity so very soon - so he clings to the idea that the Elder does not want her dead with the vehemence of a man avoiding the gallows.

“So what say you? Will you allow me to join you, you who still has the ability to change? In exchange, of course, you will gain control of the power you are so afraid to touch, lest you fall to burning once again.”

Because the Elder will be controlling it, Loki realizes. The Elder who is already burning can touch Loki’s long bitterly used power and be unaffected by the torrent of memoires that come with it, and if they become each other - each only half overwriting each other - than Loki could use it as well.

Loki accepts, and it is as bitter as a pill as he expected to swallow, but he does.

They are both there now, not like when Ikol steamrolled the Child Loki and left nothing behind, they are equal in control, only at peace for now because they want the same thing.

They want Verity Willis to survive this night - and as many as possible in the future - and they will ensure that she does.

But it is after that Loki the Younger has no guarantee. He may be overwhelmed with bitterness and anger or despair as he nearly was when Thor abandoned him to be judged by Asgardia, and be overwritten by the Elder once more.

Or he may find kindness and the heart to continue his quest to change, and never fall to the burning again. He might completely overwrite the Elder instead, taking his knowledge and power and destroying the anger and bitterness completely, once and for all.

This is, The Elder confides to him as he mocks the All Mothers with partial truths, what he came back for, what he wants.

The Elder wishes nothing more than to discover what he can be, if he continues to change, to never be a villain again, but also to not remain caught between two extremes - floating uncertainly - as Loki is now. The Elder wants to know what he can be like as a hero, and turned back time just to see if he could.

That doesn’t mean he was going to make it easy for Loki - what would a hero be without opposition, some despair of hopelessness before his mighty triumph? The Elder knows how to write a story, but he is giving the reigns over to Loki the Younger now, to prove himself worthy of the title of ‘hero’.

Only time will tell if he will be able to.

For now, Loki stares down at the battered, beaten form of the All Mother - the mother he thought he’d once loved, and let the burning wash over him.

“Never again.” He whispers, but is soon shouting. “Never again! Never again shall I be placed in those chains! Never! Again!”

His proclamation is pounded into the All Mother’s body, and Loki steels himself, reaching for every drop of apathy the Elder has --

-- And removes her head.

Freyja was the one who convinced the others and brought to fruition the plan to force Loki back to his old self. With her gone, neither of the other All Mothers will dare to try and pick up the pieces of that plan again.

He is free - for now. Who knows how the All Father will take the brutal murder of his wife - no matter the reason of protecting an innocent midgardian behind the act.

But he will deal with later, Loki decides, for there are more important things to worry about in the meantime.

Like the mortal he came here to save.

Loki turns to Verity once he is finished, taking in her ruffled and blood smeared clothes, and notes they are the same ones she wore the day before - the day he had been dragged to Asgard. Had she been too distressed to change clothes?

The thought was both touching and worrying - Loki did not have a good track record with meaningful relationships, no matter how much he wanted to take things further with Verity. He would accept what he was given of her heart and not ask for more.

He didn’t deserve it, anyway. Not yet.

The horn she cradled in her palm was proof of that.

Loki had been startled when he first saw it, however proud that she had tried to defend herself with it, having no doubt realized it was as good as a weapon she would get in her home against Freyja, but those horns were more than just decoration or intimidation.

Gods are stories, and as much as Gods controlled their own stories, Gods were controlled by the stories themselves just as much.

It’d been centuries ago, in midgardian time, when the poet Snorri Sturluson first put pen to paper of Loki and other norse gods. By this time, Christianization had spread enough that all further interpretations of Loki were touched by the man’s writings.

The set up of Balder as the Christ-Figure of Norway and Loki as the Satan figure had been solidified, admittedly, by Loki’s own actions of villainy from then hence. (Especially the decade or so Loki had paraded around pretending to be the actual Devil of Christianity.)

Loki had been fond of his helmet before, but stories are life-blood to the gods and there were some things they could fight and some they could not. The Loki from before had not bothered to fight the injection of the blatant symbol of evil that horns were to humans.

The Child Loki had been born a blank slate, and thus had no horns, but Ikol had tainted that slate, so the horns came back. Verity had asked, once, why he wore the horns and Loki had not answered her - the truth would be going far deeper into his crimes than he wanted to admit just then.

The Axis Incident had perverted this symbolism further -switching his black for white, his horns for wings - but seeing the blood staining the horn that Verity gripped so tightly brought out a more basic meaning to the horns he wore.

Thoughts of animals, and how their horns were simply for protection - for shielding, instead of symbols of creatures humans could not yet understand.

But the connection between horns and evil was a strong one for midguaridans, and even now, Loki did not know if he could ever change enough to throw off that particular yoke.

But such silly matters of vanity could be pursued later - for now, it was Verity that needed him.  

--

Verity was choking back tears and biting back whimpers as the two gods fought.

It was a brutal fight - she could tell that much even without opening her eyes - and a hundred times more destructive than the ‘fight’ between Thor and Loki only a day ago.

Verity’s eyes may have been closed, but she could still hear.

Hear the punches thrown, the sharp sound of a blade colliding with Loki’s armor, with his flesh. She could hear the gruesome sound of hits connecting brutally, of blood splattering from a wound and onto the walls, the floor.

She could hear Loki pick up the woman and tear at her flesh.

A dull thunk, and Verity was nearly incoherent with hysteria at the realization Loki has torn off her head.

There were, of course, other body parts he could’ve detached, but none of them would’ve been followed by the sound of a body collapsing on the floor, of the pure silence of a fight ending.

After a moment, Loki shifts, the sound of metal hoops colliding; and calls out to her softly.

“It’s over, Verity. You’re safe.”

Verity whimpers at the pronouncement, and holds a hand out blindly for Loki to take.

He gets the message, and she soon feels his leather clad hand (Gloves? Why is he wearing gloves?) embracing her, soothing her into a hug.

“Are- Are you okay?” Verity eventually manages to get out.

“Yes. I was unharmed, but for a few scratches. The All Mother is old, and has never been constantly out to the battlefields. It was foolish of her, to come alone with the intent to harm one I cared for.”

“I thought you were going to die.” Verity confesses, and she’s not just talking about today. “I thought you were going to die! And then you just left! Both of you! And none of you said anything to me! And then you come back and this woman was trying to kill me! Because of you!”

Loki makes a concerned noise, but does not refute her statements; rubbing soothing circles in her back.

Verity has still not opened her eyes, though it would be impossible for her to see through her tears anyway.

“Don’t ever do that again!” She demands, throwing her arms around his neck in effort to make their ‘hug’ tighter - to make sure Loki will not release his grip on her and leave, again. “Don’t ever just - just stand there and not fight back! Please.”

Verity is begging now, and hearing it gives Loki a pause - his hands stopping their rhythmic motion for a second before they continue.

“I promise. I won’t do that again.” Loki agrees, and he’s telling truth but Verity senses he cut himself off from saying anything else to her.

As if what he was going to say next would frighten her - because it would also be true, because it’s a reflex for Loki to say the truth now, whenever he’s close to her. Verity realizes after a while, that he is not wearing the same clothes he normally does - neither casual wear or his coat or his asgardian armor. Whatever he is wearing is something Verity has never seen before and she wonders what he could possibly be wearing that he thought would make a difference in this fight - for what else reason would he change his favored clothes, soaked in his magic and honed for his tricks?

Loki kisses her forehead as Verity sobs out her horror and distress of the past two nights, her grip around Loki’s neck never loosening. Loki never stops whispering to her as she cries, about how he will help.

He’ll clean away the blood and the body for her, he says. He’ll help her move out immediately if she doesn’t want to remain here, in the place he committed murder for her - he understands the feeling, he says.

But there are more whispers, that Verity loses track of as her cries grow weaker, her mind dulling with the need to rest, and some of them are lies and some are not - and it is the ones that are the truth that make her sob harder, despite the pain in her chest.

She cries not the least because Loki has not told her to open her eyes.

He does not tell her that it would be okay for her to do so now, that there is nothing for her to fear of now, that Freyja is dead.

Loki does not tell Verity this, because it would be a lie.

If Verity opens her eyes, she will not like what she sees.

And that, more than anything, is what haunts her when she finally falls into the darkness of sleep.

--

“I…I know our friendship is stitched together with betrayals and apologies. It’s probably horribly toxic in all sorts of ways… I …I wouldn’t blame you if you called it quits on us. But I hope you don’t. Our friendship is… it’s important to me. You’re important to me. So I suppose I’d like to know if we’re still okay.”

“…We might be.”

- Loki and Verity, AOA 10.