For Steve Rogers

[throneenvy]

Odin's wrath was a magnificent thing to witness.

Even when it had been directed fully in his direction, even knowing he might have died any second, the thrill from seeing the All-Father's power and fury unleashed and unfettered had been awe-inspiring. It had also been bitter, fractured, and furious. For how could any still think of Loki's rage as untamed, or his actions as crimes, when so ruthless a war-god sat upon the throne of Asgard? His actions had been that of a King. Had he not proven a wise and benevolent leader during his time upon the throne? Any who gainsaid that were fools, blinded by their petty prejudice.

He hated and loved Asgard with all his heart. He wanted to watch it burn and he wanted to rule it from on high, he wanted to see his family dead at his feet and yet always seemed to stay his hand when such an ending was within his grasp. It had been so again with Odin. He should have killed the old man when he had succeeded in spelling him into imprisonment, but he had not. For he had told himself that to keep the All-Father alive was wise, it allowed him to continue to tease out details from that ancient mind in order to keep his illusion believable to all.

It had proven his downfall.

For when Odin escaped, he had come with the force of a thousand suns for the man who sat atop his throne and wore his face falsely. Any love he had once felt for his younger son was gone now, and Frigga no longer there to stay his hand against execution. An execution he had determined to carry out with his own hand and with no further delay, to give Loki no quarter or mercy this time.

How long the battle had lasted, Loki did not know. He had not often battled to his full power, he preferred tricks and illusion to outsmart his enemy and his usual weapon was his silver tongue. He had no choice in this fight. He threw all his power at the All-Father, he used all his strength, all his tricks, all his magic. And somehow, impossible though it should have been, he survived long enough to slip through one of his hidden pathways.

Loki used the last of his remaining magic to cloak himself from Heimdall's all-seeing eyes so that he would not be easily found. To be so drained, so helpless, was not an experience he enjoyed at all. Blood stained his clothing from head to foot and he could feel the sticky clotting of it all over his body. He had taken great injury, and he knew he may not yet even survive the next few days in order to begin healing, but he would not give up. He would never lay down and wait for death. He was Loki of Asgard and he would never go snivelling to the gates of Hel.

With the remaining shreds of his energy, Loki staggered into the nearest building. His consciousness only vaguely registered that this was Midgard, a realisation that sent a thread of concern through his gut. An apartment door chosen at random, a hand slippery with blood on the handle. The lock yielded to him easily, he did not even need a trickle of seiðr for that, and he stumbled within. The Norns must have a sense of humour and wish for him to suffer, for he did not know even as he collapsed onto the couch that, out of all the billions of homes upon this wretched realm, he had found himself within that of Steve Rogers.

Comments

welcome back :)

[throneenvy]

Loki took the opportunity of the Captain leaving the room to allow his body to give in to the pain he felt. Tremors rippled through him from head to foot, and he had to grit his teeth viciously in order to swallow the groans that wished to make their way out of his throat. Everything was agony and he knew it would take time for his body to heal, time he would be forced to spend here and adhere to this bizarre truce.

Trust was not a commodity he traded in. It was a weakness, a gap in the armour of the strongest warrior that could let a blade find flesh. Trust was a fool's last resort, but it seems he had need to be that fool now. He could not leave and so he must trust in this mortal to keep his side of the bargain. Dangerous. Very dangerous.

The moment that Loki heard the creak of footsteps approaching he forced his body back under control. His face was pale as a sheet and sweat glistened on his forehead, but he managed to give off the impression of a man reclining at rest rather than an invalid. Thankfully, he was not offered the food in the same way as the drink, and so he could keep his pride in tact by reaching for it of his own volition and starting to eat. All foods he recognised, more was the wonder.

"You cook for yourself? Do you not see shame in performing such womanly duties?"

Rather than scorn, Loki merely looked curious. He had long been derided for his own 'womanly' affectations, such as magic and fighting with smaller daggers rather than a more conventional warrior's weapon, and it surprised him to see such behaviour from one of Midgard's more lauded warriors.

[cold_righteousness]

Steve does his best to not smile obviously when Loki reaches for the food he brings, but he can't help being pleased, none the less. He was rather hoping there was some way around it, because he didn't want to watch the man starving himself out of pride. He could see the pain on his face; he'd been in a war, he knew the look of a man trying not to admit to his injuries, and the pallor of Loki's skin didn't give him much comfort, but he at least didn't look as badly as he had before.

But at the question, Steve tenses, and there's a brief flicker of a look that's that mix of hurt and a bright refusal to let on that he cares, that way that his shoulders straighten, and his eyes sharpen a little until he catches the look on Loki's face and he sighs, relaxes a little. Because it's not scorn or insult, just curiosity, and he drags fingers through his short blond hair . Objectively, he's learned that what constitutes woman's work in this day and age has changed, but he still remembers the prejudices of the 1930s.

"So I guess it's even like that in Asgard?" It's only half a question, more a resigned sort of acceptance as he looks over at Loki. How many times had he heard those kinds of things? Growing up before the serum, in college, and even afterwards, standing on stage in front of the soldiers as Captain America and how they had jeered. He wonders, for half a moment, if Loki maybe knows what that's like.

"But, no, I don't see it that way." There's a pause and he shakes his head. "I mean, I used to be small and sickly, back before the war," he admitted. And sure, maybe someone would caution him against telling Loki anything, but they had an exhibit in the Smithsonian about him. It wasn't as if most of this was any secret. "I got a lot of that sort of thing back then. But, I lived with someone for a while when I was in art school, and turned out that cooking was the best way I could help out. So I learned."

There's a not-entirely-subtle distaste for that sort of style of judgement that carries in his tone. Too many insults, that way the other boys thought he was effete because of his size, how he looked, because he wasn't good at sports, because he liked drawing and listened to the Boswell Sisters and a dozen other things. Because of how Bucky was there to protect him, and because no one understood that when they hit him for the things he said it meant he'd won, that no matter how much they hit him if he didn't back down it wasn't losing.

Or maybe Bucky had never been wrong when he accused Steve of liking it.

[throneenvy]

Asgard was a society of punishing and rigid tradition. Change came slowly to a people who lived for thousands of years, when the ideals of one generation could not pass on for several millennia. A woman could become a warrior, as the Lady Sif had proven, but she had to work twice as hard and be twice as good as her male counterparts to be taken at all seriously on the battlefield.

For men, the standard to strive for was that of the perfect warrior. Someone like Thor. Golden and muscled and brave to the point of idiocy, who revelled in battle and thought nothing of facing down a hundred foes with only the strength of his arm and the might of his hammer. Those who fought from the shadows, who thought more in terms of tricks and strategy, they were cowards. Loki was one such creature. His favoured weapons had ever been his intellect, short daggers, and magic; three things that Asgard saw as embarrassingly womanish in a prince of the realm.

It was interesting to see that Midgard did not seem to hold to the same roles as Asgard. It was acceptable for this warrior of the people to be seen as an artist and for him to do his own cooking. Interesting indeed.

"Ah yes," he smiled when the war was brought up, sensing blood in the water and a way to shift the discussion away from any questions about Asgardian culture, not that he had answered the one posed already. "The man out of time, asleep since one of your many wars ended. Tell me, how does it feel to wake and find all you knew dead and decaying?"

[cold_righteousness]

It was perhaps more accurate to say that Steve's life had been such that he simply didn't agree with the general narrative of his time. It was certainly less constricting in modern days than it had been in his era, and yet the official story about him was always constructed in such a way as to present a certain image. A litany of facts that became less truth and more about the image of the perfect American Hero. And the truth was that Steve still saw himself mostly as that kid he'd once been, but with the power in his hands to actually protect people. It was a strange feelings, seeing the displays and stories, fragments of his life, but feeling like they somehow missed out on telling the whole thing.

He flinches a little at the question, that way his head drops and his breath sucks in as he pauses. "Of course it hurts," he admits, looking up and meeting his green eyes. He wasn't sure if there was more to lose from trying to dodge the subject, or admitting to what Loki had to already know. The question is so painfully obvious that he almost thinks that Loki wants him to deny it, or evade the answer. So he sticks with being genuine, although there's a sharpness to his blue eyes as he looks at him, because there is blood in the water with this particular subject. He wonders if Loki is just trying to hedge his vulnerability with any weakness he can find, or if there's something deeper going on here. It's a question Steve can't really get a read for however, though he tries.

"It's crushing. Everyone I ever knew or cared for is dead with few exceptions. Those that are left hardly know who I am on the bad days." He sighs, his lips thinning. "But I choose to believe that I can still do some good here." And that was important to him. Maybe more important than learning to fit in and finding his place in the world, was still having a cause, still having something to fight for, a way that he could still try and save people, something to throw himself against so he didn't have to think about how much he'd lost. It was maybe part of why he so desperately wanted to find Bucky, reclaim a fragment of the life he'd once had, salvage that connection. Someone that understood him, even if it was in pieces.

"You didn't seem to like this place much last time you were here," he observed carefully. "What are you going to do if you can't go back to Asgard?" It was perhaps a bit more barbed than his usual tone of conversation, but Loki was asking for it.

[throneenvy]

There was no if surrounding that question, all avenues to Asgard were closed to him for the foreseeable future. He was injured, weakened, and had likely broken whatever last fragments of mercy Thor might have had for him by feigning his own death once more. Odin Allfather would have him executed on sight, and the only tempering force to that - Frigga - now lay far beyond such concerns.

That did not mean he had given up all hope for his birthright, he just had to regroup and begin to plan anew. It may take centuries, during which he would have to be cunning and hidden well, but he had centuries to burn. He was young yet, scarcely a few decades over his first millennium, he could afford patience.

The sting of being ousted from Asgard once more, however, was more than he wished to discuss with this mortal. And so he chose not to answer the question posed to him and instead continue his ruthless attack on Rogers' ideals.

"Then you place your belief in a lie. Nothing you do shall ever do good, your actions are as inconsequential and ephemeral as a guttering candle soon to be extinguished. You mortals, even with such enhancements, are transient creatures. You do not live long enough to create an impact or change the tide."

Loki waved a hand langurousdly as if he were explaining a rudimentary concept to a rather slow student.

"How many men have believed themselves doing good, and how long does their good last? Hours? Weeks? A few years at most before another comes to undo all they have done, to plunge your pathetic whimpering race back into perpetual conflict, and they are no longer around to protect their fragile ideal. What you quest after is an act of futility, Captain Rogers."

[cold_righteousness]

Loki doesn't answer the question, but Steve hadn't really particularly expected him to. He'd nothing a certain tendency toward asking questions without giving answers. It's slightly discouraging, but given the situation, he's not sure he blames him. In a certain light, he's getting more than name, rank, and serial number, or the Asgardian equivalents, and that's something, at least. Steve's not quite willing to call him on it, just yet -- their agreement had nothing to do with Loki being pleasant or cooperative. He wasn't that idealistic.

"I disagree," he says firmly, looking at Loki evenly. "The important thing is shaping the attitudes of other people, so there are those that can carry on the ideas of doing the right thing no matter how long we live for." He rakes a hand through his hair. "I don't believe that I'm the only person that wants to make to make things better. And even if we can't save everyone.. we can still make a difference." There's something a little strained about that sentiment, like he's reminding himself as much as he's trying to convince Loki. It's not a good bargaining position, but he can't help thinking of Sokovia as he talks.

"And what's the alternative? Accepting that nothing will last, so it's not worth trying? Attempting to enforce a world without conflict by having the biggest weapon? I'll stick with my futility." He sighs and shakes his head because he realizes suddenly, that Loki is getting to him more than he would like to admit to. But, this is what the man is good at, so he supposes it's not surprising.

[throneenvy]

"Such is why your species is not equipped to rule itself. You do not have the capacity for unity, it lies beyond the fragility of your life span. How can you be expected to change the world you live in when you have such a meagre time to do it?" These were the reasons he had given for his own rule of Midgard, and reasons that he at least semi-believed.

He would have ruled them well. They would have understood and unified under a single leader, and their petty need for war and destruction would have been challenged outwardly to foes they could stand against as one realm. But that would now never be, and his throne here had never come to pass.

Loki fell silent after that thought to concentrate on the food that he held cradled on his lap. It was hot and filling, both things he required in abundance right now, and he had no longer the strength of will to keep from wolfing it down. Yet despite the obvious ravenous hunger, Loki still ate with a certain decorum that Thor had never yet managed to learn himself.