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Striding across the battlefield, Loki barely glanced at the corpses he passed, both human and... other. Somewhere to the side, he could hear Thor bellowing at his idiot companions, as though they could somehow ease the price of this devastating victory. His own magic was severely depleted, and the only emotion he could summon at the moment was a tired satisfaction at the defeat of the Mad Titan.
From the bluff he had fought upon, he’d seen a flash of blue in this direction, the whirl of a bright discus disguised as a shield, and intended to seek out the warrior who bore those signs. Ears straining to catch the faintest breath of a familiar voice, quick green eyes darted among the fallen, expecting to see the familiar form bent over a comrade or even a stranger, giving comfort or more practical aid. But... nothing. Still, he continued to search. Loki did not like to have unpaid debts weighing on him.
Quickly dismissing the majority of lifeless bodies lying upon the field, Loki wondered whether when his strength returned, he should not summon the fire of the Aelfar to cleanse the battlefield, consuming enemy and ally alike in the same pyre. Thor would disapprove, but then Thor usually did.
The thought froze as he caught a scrap of bright blue peeking out from beneath a pile of bodies. Impossible! He himself had fought the warrior, and while the mortal was weaker than Aesir or Jotun, he was stronger than his own kind by far. Other mortals had survived the fight. How then could this one, given strength to surpass others, and healing to banish his hurts, how should he fall when others did not?
So buried was he that it took actual concentration to move the bodies above him, at last revealing the stained and torn blue suit with its silver and red accents. Loki stared a moment in disbelief at the broken body, limbs splayed at unnatural angles, part of the chest oddly shaped. This pathetic... thing could have nothing to do with the warrior who had so bravely opposed him, even at the height of his anger, and yet, the suit was unique, the blonde sweep of hair over the mottled brow all too familiar.
As he knelt down to determine when the last breath had fled, though, the lashes fluttered against the bloodless cheeks. Sightless blue eyes opened, seeming to reflect the empty skies above. Straining to catch the faintest sound, Loki could now hear the breath rasping from Steve’s injured chest. His long fingers traced the bones of the chest, hopelessly crushed, either from the original injury or else from the impact of the bodies above the prone soldier.
Mending the bones would have been the work of moments, were he not too exhausted to reliably knit together the hidden threads of Yggdrassil’s branching tendrils. Helpless in the face of devastating injury, he could only move his hand to gently lift the fallen hand. “I do not lightly undertake a debt, but I owe one to you and will have it paid before you pass from this world.”
Still, there was no sign of recognition or understanding from the broken thing before him. Only the blue eyes moved, restlessly gazing into some private world, perhaps already marking his escorts to the feasting halls of the honored dead. If he did not act quickly, perhaps the debt would never be paid, and eternity would prove a long time for something to rankle so. “I knew you to be one of Thor’s chosen companions in this realm, and knew also that his thoughts have ever been shared among his companions. He has never been one to keep his own counsel, even when perhaps that would have been the wiser course.”
Loki’s lips quirked as he commented, “I still wonder how that will serve him as king, especially in a realm so ruled by faction and personal loyalties. But in any case, I needed to know what he was up to, what plan would be hatched among ‘Earth’s Mightiest Heroes’ and well I knew that I would get no answer were I to simply ask.” The troubled breath had not ceased, and he could feel the fluttering pulse just beneath the cool skin he held.
“The woman is closed off, as is the archer. Neither reveals their thought, even to themselves at times, and so both were useless to me. The smith never ceases to reveal his thoughts, and would undoubtedly have driven me to the brink of madness with his chatter. The beast lurks too close to the skin of his dear friend, and so I was left to attempt you.” The narrow face twisted wryly as he stroked a thumb over pale flesh.
“I attempted your seduction repeatedly in the guise of various women, and ever were you courteous, maddeningly so, in fact, until I gave up that tactic as unavailing.” A glimmer of mischief appeared in the emerald eyes as he sought briefly to catch the gaze of wandering blue eyes. “It took time to realize that simply because you were one of Thor’s companions, it did not necessarily follow that you shared all of Asgard’s irrational prejudices.” The thin lips tightened momentarily, eventually relaxing into a neutral state where no emotion showed at all. The trickster sat silently for a moment before seeming to recall his task.
“Even with that thought, it was difficult to decide how I ought to approach you. Eventually, I decided that your wish to rescue lost souls might give me an opening that might not otherwise occur. It was then that I allowed you to corner me in the confrontation with Doom’s minions. I wept prettily over my outcast status, the inability of a prince to seek love where I would. I confessed the heartbreak of my arranged marriage and watched you welcome the evidence of my potential for redemption.”
The hand in his twitched reflexively, pressing down against the rubble below. The back arched as the gurgle deepened. A weak tendril of magic passed into the prone man. “No, no, do not leave me yet. My confession is incomplete. You may not, cannot leave until you know all. I watched you decide to attempt my redemption and rejoiced at the opening. Every dropped glance, every brush of our hands, all was calculated to draw you to me, and drawn you were. You gave me not only access to the plans, but sought my advice in the making of them. And all the while, I sought to seduce you, to become lover and confidante.”
The full mouth dropped open as yet another harsh breath worked its way from the mangled chest. Loki barely spared a glance at the dying man as once again he summoned the remains of his energy to focus power though the connected hands. Beneath him, the arms attempted to curl toward the stimulation, the movement spastic and incomplete. The eyelids drifted shut again as the chest shuddered.
Again, Loki twisted the fine threads of energy to give the mortal enough energy to stay within his frame, though he could feel the effort draining his own reserves. He wondered for a moment whether this availed anything, whether the soldier was even present to collect the debt being repaid at all, but present or no, this was the only chance he might be offered, and Loki had never backed away from opportunity.
“I needed the strength of a realm to fight the one who unleashed me upon Midgard to gain the Tesseract, you see. His minions had promised retribution, should their plan fail, would fall on me. Asgard was obviously useless to me, as my reputation there was in tatters, not merely as Thor would have you believe due to my attempted elimination of Jotunheim as a rival. Thor himself tried to do the same, though now he will grow sentimental and insist that those were the actions of rash youth and he has matured.”
He looked down at the still, pale figure lying in the rubble, shutting out the calls of the carrion birds which had arrived for the feast. The eyelids were fluttering again, struggling to open. Loki lifted a hand in a soothing gesture down the cheek. “No, no, rest. Soon the Valkyrie will come for you to take you to halls of endless feasting and sparring, where your name will be honored. I will tell you all first, then when you are gone, will make a cairn for you with my own hands and find any who should receive your weregeld.”
A heavy look of sadness passed over the Trickster’s face. “I have done no less for any of the warriors who fought under me, and indeed, would give you more in repayment, were it possible. For I was not, despite the insinuations of Odin’s court, in the habit of seducing either shieldbrothers or those serving me.” Viridian eyes narrowed a moment, then became lost in thought once more as he continued.
“You were shy, and like many another, appreciated boldness where it did not come easily to you. But still you would not yield to the advances of one whom you could not trust.” Again, all emotion slid from the narrow face as he continued. “All Asgard could tell any who asked that I betray all who confide in me. Doom certainly discovered that mistake as I turned my attention to earning your trust. But it was never, as you believed, because I wished to redeem myself. I am as I have always been, and will likely ever be.”
The hand in his jerked again, the pale face twitched, muscles shivering as a panting breath escaped the soldier. Loki smoothed back the ruffled blonde hair, traced the jaw with long fingers, ran his thumb over the full lips. “Your boldness is reserved for battle and for the cause of the weak, so I brought you tokens of my supposed redemption - the plans for Doom’s latest mechanical creatures, the location of Hydra facilities and those of the Ten Rings. And slowly, I seduced you in the guise of being seduced to goodness.
“And with each gift, each token, you softened your reserve in a way that no other approach could have achieved. Each proved to you that I was on the path to redemption, until at last you turned to me as an equal, and not only told me what you were doing, but asked my advice. And soon after, welcomed me as your lover. All along, I knew this battle to be inevitable.”
Loki squeezed his eyes shut, even as the blue eyes once more fluttered open. “I knew both that he would come to punish me, and that he would seek, almost certainly, to make good the failure here. I needed an army, so I encouraged alliances among the heroes of this realm. I needed you to be good, so I led you into challenging battles, guiding you, shaping you into a force that could defeat him.”
A tear slipped silently down the alabaster cheek as he squeezed the hand in his, leaning forward to place a chaste kiss on the cool brow. “But I didn’t really love you.”
A soft huff of breath came from the soldier. and long ebony lashes trembled against the sculpted cheekbones, as another tear slipped free. They flew open again at the next sound from the prone body, rasped and low but clear.
“Liar.”