[ there's a swell of his chest as he sighs and loses. Daenerys 1, Loki 0.
Bacon has to be handed off to Ahad, and the bubble baby reaches its stubby little hands toward him again. while Loki would, perhaps, take it with him, it's been proven more than once that neither Bacon nor Eggs are terribly fond of teleportation. with a quiet shush, Loki tells it that he'll be back shortly.
the sorcery is the easy part. by now he knows Daenerys well enough to find her signature, trace it, and work out the details in less than a few minutes. bright green tendrils lick around his fingers, and with a low mutter of a word in an old tongue, he flickers out of sight in the cave (leaving Bacon distressed).
when he appears there's always a moment of distortion. the fabric of reality ripples and has to adjust accordingly. the tendrils curl around his fingers and around his elbow. the harsh winds blowing his hair and his jacket and every which direction, but with Loki's weight, he's well anchored. ]
Oh, yuck. It's a little windy out here, hm?
[ he has to shield the side of his face from the storm, keeping the sand from his eyes. ]
Dany rests with her back against a tree trunk, silver hair tousled and windblown, the storm having brought some measure of flush to her cheeks. Viserys once told her she slouched too much, but this time, her shoulders are hunched forward, her head ducked for a reason other than wishing to vanish. She is cradling something to her breast, protecting a child of her own, one that will not vanish upon their mission's end.
Drogon hisses his displeasure in her arms, sensing the change in the air well before she does. He had been returned to his smaller size for ease of transportation, and Dany can only pray he will grow again. As of now, the winds are too strong for him, and his tail is anchored about her slender neck like an ornamental torque.
She glances up in time to see the air part for Loki, little threads falling about his tall, slender frame. Despite the hair whipping about her face, the shadows flee her, and she is so pleased that she nearly makes the decision to run the short distance to him. Only Drogon in her arms stops her. I have missed you, she thinks to say. ]
I will blow away! [ she laughs over the roar of the winds, her disheveled appearance queerly fitting. Stormborn, indeed. ]
[ he's like something out of place with his hair and jacket blowing, but the sorcery alight and creeping up his arms like living snakes, unaffected by the clamor of debris and sand around them. there's no movement to dismiss his magic, as there's far too great of a need for it here. ]
You're light enough to. You don't plan on staying here, do you?
[ he counters, heading toward her at a swagger that's nothing less than him being a dramatic show-off.
the tree certainly isn't a good spot for a queen, and less so a dragon. the gap closes between them, and he leans in to offer her a hand. the other is used to hold up his jacket, shielding them both from the wall of sand. ]
[ Somehow, the prospect doesn't seem to frighten her, though she's knelt to anchor herself to the ground as best as she's able. Dany reaches for him, and Drogon chooses that moment to flutter his wings, relieved to have the room to stretch. She withdraws her hand again for a moment to steady him, chiding: ] Oh, stop that! [ Anyone watching might think she were scolding a child in the middle of some market, not a dragon in the middle of a deadly storm.
Loki's hand is caught on the second try, Drogon's small body pinned flush against her own with one arm. His tail comes undone from her neck, lashing in the wind like a whip, and Dany grasps Loki's long fingers tightly to draw herself up as the dragon screeches warnings in her ear. There is sand in her hair and in her mouth, though now at least she needn't squint or shield her eyes. ]
[ Drogon stretches his wings, and Loki's lips curl into a wicked little smile. a finger taps his nose, only once, to both show that he's unafraid, and that he's demanding his attention for a moment. teleportation takes some attention, and he'd best not take Drogon unaware. a hand lays over Dany's where she holds Drogon to herself, his pinky leaning out to touch the hot scales. he needs some contact to conduct the spell, however brief it is.
there's a mutter beneath his breath, an old language caught on the wind, and reality calls to attention and splits around them. they're no longer in the hot winds of the storm, being pelted by tiny grains of sand, but in the hollow of a cave, filled with humidity while the echoes of the storm howl outside. ]
Much better.
[ suddenly everything seems a lot louder now that they're free of the noise, the changes in environment hitting on charged senses. ]
[ It takes her a few moments to adjust to their new surroundings, the heavier way the air sits upon her shoulders, the cooler touch on her face. Not so long ago, they had shared a cave together, she and Drogon, far away from everyone else upon the Dothraki Sea. Dragonstone, Dany had called it, but it was his seat, not hers.
She's reminded of how they used to play when he bites her hand with sharp, pointed teeth: enough to indicate he wishes to be let go, but not hard enough to break the skin. ]
Then leave me, [ she sighs in permission, unclasping her arm from her breast. In a flutter of wings, the dragon flaps to her shoulder for a launching point, then sails deeper into the depths of the cave, leaving the winds far behind.
Dany turns back with a faint smile, studying her friend for a minute. She waits long enough to brush sand out of her face, and then she rises onto her toes and throws her arms around him, kissing his cheek in thanks. ] I have missed you, [ she tells him at last, all warmth and windblown affection. ]
[ Drogon goes, and Loki watches with a sudden curiosity (or envy in a way, perhaps).
his eyes hardly draw from the flap of dark wings and back to Daenerys when he feels the weight of her arms around his shoulders. a hand goes to support her, leaning down where she leans up. there's a scratchy, sandy kiss against his cheeks and he tosses his head as if there's dirty to be thrown from it. ]
Ah, yes ... you were ... absent for quite some time.
[ as if the words were sinking in with the feeling, his grasp tightens a little, borderline desperate. ]
[ She feels the grasp, but so too does she notice the rest: the way he tosses his head, the way he struggles to find words that would have come so easily to anyone else. Against his shoulder, her smile fades, and she feels uncertain. Something is wrong.
She gives him a squeeze back--as much as she can squeeze a god of such density--and then she gently disentangles herself from his arms, feeling queer. She had not misjudged that he'd missed her, she knows that, and the way his arms tighten prove that, but ... perhaps he is not as free with his affection as she is. I have overstepped.
She is back in her court, smoothing over some graceless fumble that has been brought before her throne. ]
You do not care for appropriate. [ A moderate tease, and then she presses her lips together, the warmth falling behind something else as she turns from him to shake the sand out from her uniform onto the floor of the cave. There is a seamless sort of way she pretends as though nothing has happened, but it comes at the cost of some of her warmth as she assesses where the misstep had fallen. ] Your squidge, [ she ventures, ] have you given it a name?
[ Surely that answer, at least, is well within his comfort to give. ]
[ while he'd done a lot of things in a prior life, some shows of affection weren't one of them. Odin had always been cut off, and Loki was never with many friends. in the end, he had cast everyone away and started again. it was an odd, lonely thing.
he had lost his brother to the bowels of the ALASTAIR mission void, along with Verity (who he reasoned that it would be for the best). here, Dany had returned, and he wonders if the full extent of it has hit him yet. while she adjusts herself his fingers linger, never entirely backing away, as if to make sure that they can't take her off again. his fingers remain just below her ribs. ]
No, I rather dislike the whole idea of appropriate. [ he counters with a thin little smile and a cant of his head. ] The squidge is known as Bacon. [ he says, you know, like it's something you'd totally name a child. ] After the one of the mortals most glorious meal: breakfast.
[ She's just seized a handful of hair to impatiently shake loose the grime that has settled there--idly, she thinks of her handmaids, and wonders whether Irri and Jhiqui are seeking her on the Dothraki Sea now--when he tells her the name.
The job half-finished, her fingers pause in silver-gold tresses, the other hand unconsciously settling itself over the touch near her waist. ]
That is a terrible name, [ she chides him, her face aghast, though there is something in her eyes that hints she may laugh. ]
[ Loki gives her a mock exaggeration of an offended expression that screams excuse me. absently, he takes a few locks of hair to help her. it felt a little more natural than standard awkward fare. ]
It's a name for a fantastic variation in morning menu, how can it be terrible? Bacon is delicious.
[ it falls off his tongue like it's almost convincing, at least, he's seemed to convince himself of it. ]
Ahad's squidge has kept it company, I've called that one Eggs. Together? Well, great things happen.
[ he looks rather pleased with himself, like a cat that's knocked the cream from the counter. ]
[ The combination is so horrible, so horrendously unfair and irreverent, that Dany allows herself a giggle. The sound is strangely magnified in their confined space, and from the depths of the cave, Drogon hisses in reply. ]
No one should task you with naming their false children, [ she scolds. ] You offer them no dignity. What pride could they hope to find?
[ Her hair is quickly growing voluminous, and she stills his wrist with her fingers. ] Enough, [ she says, gentle but firm. He still seems anxious, uncertain. ] Tell me of the rest. What other troubles have you caused? Am I to believe names are the end of it?
I beg to differ. [ he quite likes those names, ok. breakfast is very dear to his heart.
the gesture seems easy enough, and he listens better with touch than the vocal cue. his fingers still and open, letting the hair fall like a veil. ]
Aside from a little dip in an icy lake? [ something in his expression falls a little softer. it looks odd on a face that's either brimming with levity or defiance, as if it were made for scheming. ] Well, you know how many different worlds come together here? [ a shrug. ] Some are bound to be similar. That said, some from a world not so different from mine own appeared.
They're not those I know, but they are. Their essence is the same. Three of them.
[ They are not friends, these three; elsewise, he might seem happier about their arrival.
She doesn't refute the notion of similar worlds, nor does she look particularly surprised beyond a slight cant of her head and a raise of silver brows; she has lingered here long enough that it is scarcely the strangest notion she's heard. Another queer truth. ]
And you are foes in their world, is that the way of it? [ she prompts, temporarily leaving him for the wall. There are no thrones or silken pillows here, and any perch she might choose would be uncomfortable. She resigns herself to that and sinks down to the floor of the cave all the same, patting the place before her in invitation. She is disheveled, but there is still something undeniably queenly about her. ] Tell me their names.
[ not friends, no, but it's complicated. very complicated, probably more so than he'd wish to admit. the story of Loki and the Avengers had its consequences, more than he knew at the time, and far more than he'd forgive himself for. ]
Kinda. [ it feels strange to admit. ] Not so much anymore. [ he was the reason they had formed the Avengers at all. ] But it's different in other places. There are other shadows, other Lokis, and not many who've embraced finding ways to be better.
[ she beckons, and he comes without complaint. the jacket ripples in leather, jingling with the sound of useless buckles as he lowers beside her. an arm spreads over a knee, and he looks across the cave as if those he speaks of may be there with them. ]
Tony Stark, who calls himself Iron Man; Steve Rogers, the fallen and noble Captain America; and Natasha Romanov, who calls herself Black Widow. With my brother, and a few choice others, they call themselves the Avengers. They protect the realm on their own accord, from whatever may threaten it.
[ Better the Avengers than the Golden Company. She knows of one of them, at least; she doesn't trouble to hide her recognition. ]
I have already met your Widow, [ she tells him. Natasha had not introduced herself as anything other than Natasha, but the connection is simple to make. Dany had suspected some of the nature of the Black Widow's work within the first minutes of their meeting, but she could not have hoped to place it all. ] She seemed more capable of spywork than all my court put together thrice over, I fear. The men are only names to me.
[ It is good that Natasha is not of her world, and not in the employ of her enemies. Dany has only two options for foes as dangerous as Natasha: sway them to her side, or have them slain. ]
Then you and your brother are at odds, in their world? Or were? [ She turns curious violet eyes onto him, her hands folding into her lap. ] You spoke with them, did you not?
Aye, we had a chat. [ not a good one, but a chat. ] The other Loki ...
[ a little part of his brain reminds him of how he unfairly treated Verity, covering his tracks until she had called him on it in a verbal battle that he can only half-imagine. that was the problem with trying to save yourself from the inevitable trap: part of him had gotten lost in the desperation, and everything had become about the game. ]
There are battles inked in myth that have lived on the hearts and tongues of the northmen for a millennia of the exploits of Thor and Loki. There are other pairs of us, that's to be certain, though how many are dueling and how many have made their amends ... ah, that I couldn't say.
[ he leans his head back on cool stone wall of the cave. ]
My conversations with Black Widow were more productive than the rest. There's tension between Stark and Rogers, thick enough to cut with a knife, and it seems they're certain that their predicament—[ he twirls his finger in the air to signify this. ]—is some scheme of mine.
Well, Stark more so, but all Rogers needs is a bow and arrow to aim for the target he's put on my back. Their Loki is dead, or so both Natasha and my own brother have told me, but I have my doubts. It seems they do too.
[ Brother has opposed brother since time immemorial in tales, and so Dany is not surprised. The Targaryens hold a similar history in Westeros, often enough that she cannot trouble to remember them all.
And so she listens in silence, absorbing everything with far greater ease than she might have done when she'd first arrived. ]
Your scheme is a poor one, if they speak truly, [ she teases. ] You did not build your own self a way out.
[ Nonetheless, clearly this Loki is so distasteful to the alleged defenders of the world that their dislike for him transcends even their dislike for each other. ]
If he should dare seek arrows, I shall burn them all. [ The arrows, not the people; he is speaking only in metaphor. It is a simple enough statement, but the meaning is plain: Loki is one of her people, now. ] What scales could they hope to balance here? Silence your singing, perhaps? Or else paint your fingernails some other color? [ She peers at him. ] But it is not what they will do that troubles you, is that the way of it? The truth of their Loki is too close to what you fear for yourself.
[ And they accuse him of their Loki's deeds, she presumes, when he has worked so hard to be different. ]
[ honestly, he had been so caught up in this and that and the little Avengers push and pull that hearing the obvious that comes out of Dany's mouth your scheme is a poor one, if they speak truly is almost comforting. his lips quirk up into an ironic smile, and a half snort-half laugh comes from his chest.
it would be truly awful, wouldn't it? he'd trust himself to build a far better scheme than this. (and he had; this time he was just coasting through opportunity, taking them when they presented themselves.) ]
Gods aren't like people: we are bundles of myth, reflected back upon the world that choses to believe it. With that comes ... expectation.
[ the history and blood ran deep, even for him, now. the relationship between Loki and the Avengers was a complicated one that hung heavy over his head like an anvil waiting to fall. ]
The universe prefers patterns, and it would rather have me in an old shape. It's like an echo, all the other Lokis in all these different places, the ones that have taken the path to ruin. If I let it consume me, then every sacrifice is in vain. I'll hurt people.
I don't want to do that.
[ bright eyes fall half-lidded beneath heavy lashes, glowing in the dim light of the cave as the world hums with wind and sand around them. ]
[ She had already kissed him upon the cheek in greeting, and he had not seemed to like that. This seems a more fitting time to do it, but instead, she searches for his hands and pulls them into her own, where they are held in her lap. ]
They are not harbingers, only reflections of another world. [ She wishes to smooth the worry from his brow. ] I know that you worry. [ She squeezes his hands. ] I do, I know. It shall always be difficult to dissent, to be the first to tread a path. I do not dispute your right to be afraid, or your reasons. I do not doubt they are justified.
[ She knows the weight of uncertainty, the icy kiss of fear. She went to bed afraid and woke up afraid for fourteen years. ]
But it will not serve to dwell on what may come to pass, only what passes now. [ She leans forward, watching bright green hues. ] You say you do not wish to hurt people. I say do not. The Loki before me now has not faltered, and he should not care for the suspicious prattle of men who would make him into their jousting target. You are a god of defiance, are you not? Defy them. Show them that they do not speak for you. [ Her hands are warm, her voice warmer. Curiously, she does not seem to hear the howling of the winds. ]
There shall always be a time for change, however hard-won. There must be; elsewise, the universe would not have made you.
[ Remember that, she seems to say. Remember your strength. ]
[ there are no moves to stop her. she takes his hands, and he allows it. smaller fingers weave through his, resting between the crevices just above his palm. there's a squeeze of her hand that comes with a realization: it's not just him that he has to worry for anymore. everyone around him will be dragged into ruin if he steps into King Loki's intricate traps. there is certainty in his future, and that's what he wishes to snuff out.
again he wonders if this one. and again, he finds that he's to terrified to find the answer. more terrified than he cares to admit. ]
We fought so long and hard for a future free from destiny. [ sick of failure. sick of being the bad son. sick of being the villain for everyone to fight. ] I won't allow someone to take that from me, the Avengers and my other selves be damned.
[ I am the crime ]
I'm sick of losing. Ah, besides ... god of defiance has a good ring to it. If I'm a story, I just have to be the best story that I can be.
[ He reaffirms his purpose to himself, and she smiles faintly. She knows the practice well: she has long had to do the same, when failure or death stared her full in the face.
But her own affirmations had grown weaker and more meek, the more miserable she became, and in their wake had come something that should have frightened her. She does not tell him that, wishing for him to succeed. ]
You can. You will. [ He does not say so, Dany knows, but something in him professes to need people to shoulder him up when he falters. And yet, here he has largely uprighted himself. ] There was no need for me to remind you of your strength. Your own convictions know what it is you must do, and here they have found you again.
[ it could get dangerous, allowing Loki to run through the timeline untethered. while his nature was chaos, it was never literal. Loki was a catalyst, an uprooter of civilization, finding the cracks in the foundation of society before bringing everything to the ground. that hadn't changed. if he managed to do what he took as an opportunity, it could have consequences.
but he was always one for extremes. ]
What would you do, if someone offered you a free future?
[ there's a weird feeling that rears its ugly head: he feels like he almost may disappoint her. ]
[ She has cause to be wary of revealing a measure of herself to a god of chaos. Loki cares for her too much to try and ruin her, though Dany thinks he might betray her if he thought it was for her own benefit. Recalling that he has already told her much of his own self, she weighs the risk, and accepts it.
Outside, the sounds of the storm seem to fill the cave, ringing loud and hollow against her answer. ]
Once my dreams whispered of home, but now they show me only smoke and fire. I would do what gladdens my heart, [ she tells him, lifting his hands to kiss the knuckles. ] Fly, until some unseen god lays claim to my last breath. Fly, and burn. That is when I am whole, Loki.
[ Does that trouble him, frustrate him? The confession smolders between them. Some small part of her feels terrified, but still more of her is exhilarated. It is a release she had allowed herself only in small measures in Meereen (They are dragons, Quentyn, and so am I), but she is no longer the queen she was when she first took her city. Perhaps she never was ... but that is a sad thought. ]
[ countless times he had died and been reborn, sometimes in the fires of Surtur, other times by the ruin of his own making, yet every time he returned to the same place: the Void. every time he grasped and fought, spawning from it once again. through the passing of one existence to the next, he had become more and more submerged in the role that he had written for himself, echoed on the tongues of those that remembered it.
and so, he had burned. it was glorious and terrible at once, and while his memory was fractured, he remembered that.
unraveling, the knuckles that she kisses slide against the wall and across her shoulders with an easy manner that he had lacked upon their reunion. ]
That doesn't sound too bad.
[ he admits lowly. the embrace of other selves wraps around him, tugs insistently when ignored. ]
Turning to ash ...
Edited (omg im so tired bye) 2016-08-12 03:10 (UTC)
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Bacon has to be handed off to Ahad, and the bubble baby reaches its stubby little hands toward him again. while Loki would, perhaps, take it with him, it's been proven more than once that neither Bacon nor Eggs are terribly fond of teleportation. with a quiet shush, Loki tells it that he'll be back shortly.
the sorcery is the easy part. by now he knows Daenerys well enough to find her signature, trace it, and work out the details in less than a few minutes. bright green tendrils lick around his fingers, and with a low mutter of a word in an old tongue, he flickers out of sight in the cave (leaving Bacon distressed).
when he appears there's always a moment of distortion. the fabric of reality ripples and has to adjust accordingly. the tendrils curl around his fingers and around his elbow. the harsh winds blowing his hair and his jacket and every which direction, but with Loki's weight, he's well anchored. ]
Oh, yuck. It's a little windy out here, hm?
[ he has to shield the side of his face from the storm, keeping the sand from his eyes. ]
Hello!
[ see? not a slouch. ]
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Dany rests with her back against a tree trunk, silver hair tousled and windblown, the storm having brought some measure of flush to her cheeks. Viserys once told her she slouched too much, but this time, her shoulders are hunched forward, her head ducked for a reason other than wishing to vanish. She is cradling something to her breast, protecting a child of her own, one that will not vanish upon their mission's end.
Drogon hisses his displeasure in her arms, sensing the change in the air well before she does. He had been returned to his smaller size for ease of transportation, and Dany can only pray he will grow again. As of now, the winds are too strong for him, and his tail is anchored about her slender neck like an ornamental torque.
She glances up in time to see the air part for Loki, little threads falling about his tall, slender frame. Despite the hair whipping about her face, the shadows flee her, and she is so pleased that she nearly makes the decision to run the short distance to him. Only Drogon in her arms stops her. I have missed you, she thinks to say. ]
I will blow away! [ she laughs over the roar of the winds, her disheveled appearance queerly fitting. Stormborn, indeed. ]
no subject
You're light enough to. You don't plan on staying here, do you?
[ he counters, heading toward her at a swagger that's nothing less than him being a dramatic show-off.
the tree certainly isn't a good spot for a queen, and less so a dragon. the gap closes between them, and he leans in to offer her a hand. the other is used to hold up his jacket, shielding them both from the wall of sand. ]
I have a better spot in mind.
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Loki's hand is caught on the second try, Drogon's small body pinned flush against her own with one arm. His tail comes undone from her neck, lashing in the wind like a whip, and Dany grasps Loki's long fingers tightly to draw herself up as the dragon screeches warnings in her ear. There is sand in her hair and in her mouth, though now at least she needn't squint or shield her eyes. ]
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there's a mutter beneath his breath, an old language caught on the wind, and reality calls to attention and splits around them. they're no longer in the hot winds of the storm, being pelted by tiny grains of sand, but in the hollow of a cave, filled with humidity while the echoes of the storm howl outside. ]
Much better.
[ suddenly everything seems a lot louder now that they're free of the noise, the changes in environment hitting on charged senses. ]
no subject
She's reminded of how they used to play when he bites her hand with sharp, pointed teeth: enough to indicate he wishes to be let go, but not hard enough to break the skin. ]
Then leave me, [ she sighs in permission, unclasping her arm from her breast. In a flutter of wings, the dragon flaps to her shoulder for a launching point, then sails deeper into the depths of the cave, leaving the winds far behind.
Dany turns back with a faint smile, studying her friend for a minute. She waits long enough to brush sand out of her face, and then she rises onto her toes and throws her arms around him, kissing his cheek in thanks. ] I have missed you, [ she tells him at last, all warmth and windblown affection. ]
no subject
his eyes hardly draw from the flap of dark wings and back to Daenerys when he feels the weight of her arms around his shoulders. a hand goes to support her, leaning down where she leans up. there's a scratchy, sandy kiss against his cheeks and he tosses his head as if there's dirty to be thrown from it. ]
Ah, yes ... you were ... absent for quite some time.
[ as if the words were sinking in with the feeling, his grasp tightens a little, borderline desperate. ]
A "welcome back" is appropriate.
no subject
She gives him a squeeze back--as much as she can squeeze a god of such density--and then she gently disentangles herself from his arms, feeling queer. She had not misjudged that he'd missed her, she knows that, and the way his arms tighten prove that, but ... perhaps he is not as free with his affection as she is. I have overstepped.
She is back in her court, smoothing over some graceless fumble that has been brought before her throne. ]
You do not care for appropriate. [ A moderate tease, and then she presses her lips together, the warmth falling behind something else as she turns from him to shake the sand out from her uniform onto the floor of the cave. There is a seamless sort of way she pretends as though nothing has happened, but it comes at the cost of some of her warmth as she assesses where the misstep had fallen. ] Your squidge, [ she ventures, ] have you given it a name?
[ Surely that answer, at least, is well within his comfort to give. ]
no subject
he had lost his brother to the bowels of the ALASTAIR mission void, along with Verity (who he reasoned that it would be for the best). here, Dany had returned, and he wonders if the full extent of it has hit him yet. while she adjusts herself his fingers linger, never entirely backing away, as if to make sure that they can't take her off again. his fingers remain just below her ribs. ]
No, I rather dislike the whole idea of appropriate. [ he counters with a thin little smile and a cant of his head. ] The squidge is known as Bacon. [ he says, you know, like it's something you'd totally name a child. ] After the one of the mortals most glorious meal: breakfast.
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The job half-finished, her fingers pause in silver-gold tresses, the other hand unconsciously settling itself over the touch near her waist. ]
That is a terrible name, [ she chides him, her face aghast, though there is something in her eyes that hints she may laugh. ]
no subject
It's a name for a fantastic variation in morning menu, how can it be terrible? Bacon is delicious.
[ it falls off his tongue like it's almost convincing, at least, he's seemed to convince himself of it. ]
Ahad's squidge has kept it company, I've called that one Eggs. Together? Well, great things happen.
[ he looks rather pleased with himself, like a cat that's knocked the cream from the counter. ]
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No one should task you with naming their false children, [ she scolds. ] You offer them no dignity. What pride could they hope to find?
[ Her hair is quickly growing voluminous, and she stills his wrist with her fingers. ] Enough, [ she says, gentle but firm. He still seems anxious, uncertain. ] Tell me of the rest. What other troubles have you caused? Am I to believe names are the end of it?
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the gesture seems easy enough, and he listens better with touch than the vocal cue. his fingers still and open, letting the hair fall like a veil. ]
Aside from a little dip in an icy lake? [ something in his expression falls a little softer. it looks odd on a face that's either brimming with levity or defiance, as if it were made for scheming. ] Well, you know how many different worlds come together here? [ a shrug. ] Some are bound to be similar. That said, some from a world not so different from mine own appeared.
They're not those I know, but they are. Their essence is the same. Three of them.
[ and no Thor. ]
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She doesn't refute the notion of similar worlds, nor does she look particularly surprised beyond a slight cant of her head and a raise of silver brows; she has lingered here long enough that it is scarcely the strangest notion she's heard. Another queer truth. ]
And you are foes in their world, is that the way of it? [ she prompts, temporarily leaving him for the wall. There are no thrones or silken pillows here, and any perch she might choose would be uncomfortable. She resigns herself to that and sinks down to the floor of the cave all the same, patting the place before her in invitation. She is disheveled, but there is still something undeniably queenly about her. ] Tell me their names.
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Kinda. [ it feels strange to admit. ] Not so much anymore. [ he was the reason they had formed the Avengers at all. ] But it's different in other places. There are other shadows, other Lokis, and not many who've embraced finding ways to be better.
[ she beckons, and he comes without complaint. the jacket ripples in leather, jingling with the sound of useless buckles as he lowers beside her. an arm spreads over a knee, and he looks across the cave as if those he speaks of may be there with them. ]
Tony Stark, who calls himself Iron Man; Steve Rogers, the fallen and noble Captain America; and Natasha Romanov, who calls herself Black Widow. With my brother, and a few choice others, they call themselves the Avengers. They protect the realm on their own accord, from whatever may threaten it.
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I have already met your Widow, [ she tells him. Natasha had not introduced herself as anything other than Natasha, but the connection is simple to make. Dany had suspected some of the nature of the Black Widow's work within the first minutes of their meeting, but she could not have hoped to place it all. ] She seemed more capable of spywork than all my court put together thrice over, I fear. The men are only names to me.
[ It is good that Natasha is not of her world, and not in the employ of her enemies. Dany has only two options for foes as dangerous as Natasha: sway them to her side, or have them slain. ]
Then you and your brother are at odds, in their world? Or were? [ She turns curious violet eyes onto him, her hands folding into her lap. ] You spoke with them, did you not?
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[ a little part of his brain reminds him of how he unfairly treated Verity, covering his tracks until she had called him on it in a verbal battle that he can only half-imagine. that was the problem with trying to save yourself from the inevitable trap: part of him had gotten lost in the desperation, and everything had become about the game. ]
There are battles inked in myth that have lived on the hearts and tongues of the northmen for a millennia of the exploits of Thor and Loki. There are other pairs of us, that's to be certain, though how many are dueling and how many have made their amends ... ah, that I couldn't say.
[ he leans his head back on cool stone wall of the cave. ]
My conversations with Black Widow were more productive than the rest. There's tension between Stark and Rogers, thick enough to cut with a knife, and it seems they're certain that their predicament—[ he twirls his finger in the air to signify this. ]—is some scheme of mine.
Well, Stark more so, but all Rogers needs is a bow and arrow to aim for the target he's put on my back. Their Loki is dead, or so both Natasha and my own brother have told me, but I have my doubts. It seems they do too.
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And so she listens in silence, absorbing everything with far greater ease than she might have done when she'd first arrived. ]
Your scheme is a poor one, if they speak truly, [ she teases. ] You did not build your own self a way out.
[ Nonetheless, clearly this Loki is so distasteful to the alleged defenders of the world that their dislike for him transcends even their dislike for each other. ]
If he should dare seek arrows, I shall burn them all. [ The arrows, not the people; he is speaking only in metaphor. It is a simple enough statement, but the meaning is plain: Loki is one of her people, now. ] What scales could they hope to balance here? Silence your singing, perhaps? Or else paint your fingernails some other color? [ She peers at him. ] But it is not what they will do that troubles you, is that the way of it? The truth of their Loki is too close to what you fear for yourself.
[ And they accuse him of their Loki's deeds, she presumes, when he has worked so hard to be different. ]
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it would be truly awful, wouldn't it? he'd trust himself to build a far better scheme than this. (and he had; this time he was just coasting through opportunity, taking them when they presented themselves.) ]
Gods aren't like people: we are bundles of myth, reflected back upon the world that choses to believe it. With that comes ... expectation.
[ the history and blood ran deep, even for him, now. the relationship between Loki and the Avengers was a complicated one that hung heavy over his head like an anvil waiting to fall. ]
The universe prefers patterns, and it would rather have me in an old shape. It's like an echo, all the other Lokis in all these different places, the ones that have taken the path to ruin. If I let it consume me, then every sacrifice is in vain. I'll hurt people.
I don't want to do that.
[ bright eyes fall half-lidded beneath heavy lashes, glowing in the dim light of the cave as the world hums with wind and sand around them. ]
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They are not harbingers, only reflections of another world. [ She wishes to smooth the worry from his brow. ] I know that you worry. [ She squeezes his hands. ] I do, I know. It shall always be difficult to dissent, to be the first to tread a path. I do not dispute your right to be afraid, or your reasons. I do not doubt they are justified.
[ She knows the weight of uncertainty, the icy kiss of fear. She went to bed afraid and woke up afraid for fourteen years. ]
But it will not serve to dwell on what may come to pass, only what passes now. [ She leans forward, watching bright green hues. ] You say you do not wish to hurt people. I say do not. The Loki before me now has not faltered, and he should not care for the suspicious prattle of men who would make him into their jousting target. You are a god of defiance, are you not? Defy them. Show them that they do not speak for you. [ Her hands are warm, her voice warmer. Curiously, she does not seem to hear the howling of the winds. ]
There shall always be a time for change, however hard-won. There must be; elsewise, the universe would not have made you.
[ Remember that, she seems to say. Remember your strength. ]
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again he wonders if this one. and again, he finds that he's to terrified to find the answer. more terrified than he cares to admit. ]
We fought so long and hard for a future free from destiny. [ sick of failure. sick of being the bad son. sick of being the villain for everyone to fight. ] I won't allow someone to take that from me, the Avengers and my other selves be damned.
[ I am the crime ]
I'm sick of losing. Ah, besides ... god of defiance has a good ring to it. If I'm a story, I just have to be the best story that I can be.
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But her own affirmations had grown weaker and more meek, the more miserable she became, and in their wake had come something that should have frightened her. She does not tell him that, wishing for him to succeed. ]
You can. You will. [ He does not say so, Dany knows, but something in him professes to need people to shoulder him up when he falters. And yet, here he has largely uprighted himself. ] There was no need for me to remind you of your strength. Your own convictions know what it is you must do, and here they have found you again.
[ He is stronger than he knows. ]
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but he was always one for extremes. ]
What would you do, if someone offered you a free future?
[ there's a weird feeling that rears its ugly head: he feels like he almost may disappoint her. ]
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Outside, the sounds of the storm seem to fill the cave, ringing loud and hollow against her answer. ]
Once my dreams whispered of home, but now they show me only smoke and fire. I would do what gladdens my heart, [ she tells him, lifting his hands to kiss the knuckles. ] Fly, until some unseen god lays claim to my last breath. Fly, and burn. That is when I am whole, Loki.
[ Does that trouble him, frustrate him? The confession smolders between them. Some small part of her feels terrified, but still more of her is exhilarated. It is a release she had allowed herself only in small measures in Meereen (They are dragons, Quentyn, and so am I), but she is no longer the queen she was when she first took her city. Perhaps she never was ... but that is a sad thought. ]
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and so, he had burned. it was glorious and terrible at once, and while his memory was fractured, he remembered that.
unraveling, the knuckles that she kisses slide against the wall and across her shoulders with an easy manner that he had lacked upon their reunion. ]
That doesn't sound too bad.
[ he admits lowly. the embrace of other selves wraps around him, tugs insistently when ignored. ]
Turning to ash ...
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