The Ant and the Boot

There has always been a rift, an inseparable gap, between the living and the dead in my world. Once someone had bridged the gap there was no way to return back to the side of the living. That was just the way things always must be. I knew this because I had tried to bridge the gap before, when I tried to bring my father Loufey back into his power. The effort had been fruitless in every way besides that I had almost died in the process.

The dead were dead. There was no way to change that.

That was why it was so impossible to fathom that she was not some phantom sent to plague me and mock me when I pulled her against my body. Despite my fears she was as real as she had been when I had last seen her, not a ghost that haunted me and slipped through my fingers. She would remain mine. Now that I had her – here, in Asgard – there was nothing that could force me to let her go. I was still a prince. No one would dare take her from me. She would remain my pet, my lover, for as long as I wished.

She pushed me away from her, turning her head away. I did not understand. Was she simply overcome with the grandeur of this world? I had to give her that momentary fear. It was natural for a mortal. Maybe now she would understand what gift I had tried so hard to bestow upon her, and even now that I wouldn’t be able to give her that she would accept the little that I had left. Even now I could give her so much more than mortal men could. With me she could have Asgard. She could have all of this.

“What is it, Dove?” I asked, still holding to her arms. “Why do you turn away from me?”

“You’re still a monster,” she whispered. “I can’t hate you, but I can’t forgive you. You’ve hurt me and I fear you.”

She wouldn’t meet my eyes. She closed them to me as I leaned to her, trying to speak, trying to make her see reason. She whimpered.

“Dove, I only hurt you so you would stop fighting me,” I insisted. She still wouldn’t meet my eyes, even though I turned her to look at me. “You are safe now. I will protect you.”

She laughed, her voice hard and humorless.

“What happened to my people, Loki?” she asked. “Did anyone survive?”

“Yes. I failed, which is why I am here.”

“But are my people alive?”

I looked away from her this time. Shame gripped me for my failure.

“Yes.”

She sighed heavily, sinking down on the bed across from me and burying her face in her hands.

“I was so scared,” she said softly, her voice sounding strange. “I was so scared that they were all going to die. Steve and Banner and Natasha and Stark… I was afraid for them.”

I realized with a strange jolt of pain in my chest that she was crying, so softly that I didn’t realize until I pushed the hair away from her face. Why? Why did she cry?

She loved the mortals. She loved them in a way that I didn’t understand, possibly a way reserved to her kind.

No, that wasn’t true. Thor loved her kind like this, too, in a strange way that I mistook for his protectiveness over his pets. He truly cared for them, as if they were equals. What was this strange phenomenon that I did not understand? What was this “love” that they spoke of, that they felt so intensely?

“Do not cry, Dove,” I soothed. I pulled her close to my chest – a very human gesture that I had never been accustomed to on Asgard – and trailed my fingers through her hair as she wept. It was strange to me, the level of contact humans required to remain healthy. Asgardians were a more solitary, independent race, feeling no need for the comfort of others through touch. Humans were a strange race.

But they had defeated me. Through persistence and the sacrifice of that strange man, Stark, they had overcome me and my army. I did not understand how such small-minded, weak creatures could contain such power.

She seemed so small, so frail. I ran my hand over her smooth skin, her so breakable body, wondering where the strength was contained.

“Please stop.”

My hand froze on her back, my eyes questioning her. She refused to show me her face.

“What is it?”

“You’re confusing me. Stop.”

“What do you mean, confusing you?”

I sat bewildered as she pushed away from me, crumpling onto the bed in a mass of oversized shirt and naked flesh. Her hair fell in front of her eyes, keeping herself willfully obscured from my probing gaze.

“I should hate you, Loki,” she snapped, her voice broken. “But I can’t. Why don’t I hate you? Why am I here with you?”

These were not the questions I expected to be asked. I understood why she would hate me, but I did not know if true hate was in the nature of humans. But if true love was in their nature, should not be true hate as well? She curled in upon herself as her tears return, pulling the strength from her body.

I wanted to touch her, to change her mind. But the sound of footsteps made me hesitate as my hands hovered over her flesh.

“They come now, Dove,” I whispered to her. “You must hide now. Do not cry. For me, even if you do hate me, do not cry. You will come to love me in time just as you love your fellow mortals, I promise. I will speak to you when I return, I promise.”

I managed to get her hidden again, possibly more from her own fear than my efforts. I turned to the door alone, standing as my brother entered. His look seemed sad, an unexpected sight upon his face. Should he not be happy for my punishment?

“Follow me, Loki,” he instructed. As we left, surrounded by Asgardian soldiers, I barely had a moment to glance behind to the barren bed where Dove remained hidden.

I will return to you, Dove, I thought, closing my eyes. When I do we will discuss this.



I looked them in the eyes when I told them, even though I wanted to look away. I thought it was the more man thing to do. I know I don’t usually do that – hell, I usually take the cowards way out if I’m given the chance – but I thought I owed the girl that much. I memorized the look on her brother’s face and the tears that ran down her mother’s cheeks as I told them, remembering them for her. That way if, somehow, I was given a moment to chat with her in heaven before the clerk stopped snoozing and put me down in hell, I could tell her that her family loved her.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” I said quietly. “She was a great girl. She served her country and was a great ally and friend.”

I looked into her brother’s eyes as I handed him the small Medal of Honor. It was the same kind of medal that his family received when Dove’s father had died. I wonder how it felt for them, finding out that Dove had died in the line of duty when she hadn’t even been an agent when she had been abducted.

Natasha was there, hand in hand with Legolas. She was in all black as usual, eyes cold and unreadable. I knew she was hurting; she blamed herself for the kid’s death as much as I did, since she had forced the kid to talk to Loki in the first place. But Natasha hadn’t brought a damned building down on her head.

There were reporters there snapping photos as I shook hands with Dove’s brother, Prosper. There were always goddamn reporters. I shook his hand firmly, looking him in the eye – no glasses, no booze beforehand, no nothing – as we clenched fists. He stayed strong, pushing back the tears until the photographers were gone.

“Thank you, Mr. Stark,” he said, his voice hard, “for being there for my little sister when I couldn’t be. Thank you for trying to take care of her.”

“I just wish I could have done more,” I replied. “You’re welcome at Stark Tower any time.”

“Thank you, Mr. Stark.”

We parted, still trapped in the flashing of cameras. I wanted to take their cameras, break them, and use their film as dental floss. Though it was more likely that they didn’t use film anymore, instead opting for little memory cards. I turned away, getting in the Lamborghini just beyond the reporters and driving back to my solitude.

I couldn’t rid myself from the pain, even as I lay in bed next to Pepper. She breathed softly on my shoulder and I stroked her hair, staring up at the ceiling.

“You should try to sleep, Tony. The funeral’s tomorrow,” she advised, kissing my cheek slightly. Her toes were cold against mine.

“Trying, not succeeding.”

She gripped my hand and squeezed my fingers.

“We’ll come back from this, Tony,” she whispered.

I nodded. “I know. I always do.”

That was my curse in this life: I always came back, always bouncing back up like one of those children’s punching bags to take another hit. I couldn’t just stay down. Tomorrow I’d wake up and host a funeral then I’d get going again. I always do.



They put me in shackles again and stripped me of my armor, leaving me in only a light black tunic and pants as I was brought before the people of Asgard. Odin stood atop a dais, staring down at me in full armored garbs and a dark expression. Thor remained equally grim, standing eternally by my side as if maybe I would find a way to lash out and attack. I looked away from them, not wanting to meet the faces of my once-brother or once-father.

Odin struck his great sword upon the ground, the resounding clang calling for silence as he began to speak.

“Loki, Laufeyson, Frost Giant –“

“- adopted son of Odin and prince of Asgard,” Thor added. I glanced to him and noticed that he regarded his father with a look that was almost reproachful, as if he found Odin’s words to be out of line. Odin returned his look with one that held annoyance that was on the verge of vehemence before continuing.

“- and traitor of the Seven Realms, you have been brought before this council to face your reckoning for your crimes,” Odin called, his voice louder now as if to drown out the words of his son. “You are here to pay for your crimes against the smaller world of Earth and their people, a world under the protection of Thor and thereby a surrogate world of Asgard and its peoples. You are also here to pay for your treason against Thor, your king, and the murders and other atrocities committed whilst you were in the council of the Chitauri. Do you, Loki, have any words to justify your actions?”

I remained silent. I would not waste my words on this king, who wished for nothing more than to hear me drivel so I could be embarrassed and degraded in front of the Seven Realms. No, I would face my punishment with pride and dignity.

Odin smiled ruefully, stepping forward.

“Are you quite certain you have nothing to say, Loki, traitor of Asgard?” he asked, his voice calm.

“He is also my brother, father,” Thor growled. Odin seemed to give him no heed.

“Very well, Loki,” he said, his voice calm. His eyes cast away from me and spread over his subjects, face hard.

“This traitor will face The Shaming: he will be stripped of all his titles, though remaining in the royal palace as a reminder of what he once was; he shall take no Asgardian woman to wife, ending his bloodline; and all power will be stripped of him –“

I waited impatiently. All of these things I already knew were to come: the shaming was customary for any traitor of noble birth, rare as they were.

“- including the source of his power, a gift that he has always possessed and has used for wicked deeds.”

I stopped, puzzled. What did this mean? What gift?

But when he raised his sword I knew: I couldn’t look away, only watch as I stood paralyzed, fear crawling up in my throat and strangling me from the inside.

This was my punishment. A fate far, far worse than death.



I was cold as I stood there, staring out over Asgard. I had drunk sparingly from an urn brought to Loki’s room sometime before and felt a little refreshed, although hunger still clawed at my insides. The streets, the skies, the spiraling buildings – all looked barren before me, every inhabitant vanished from my view.

They had all been called to Loki’s reckoning, I presumed. I couldn’t push away the fear that clutched at my heart, afraid that he would die. I should want him to, I knew, but I couldn’t. Part of me still clung to the false hope that there was some humanity in him.

He didn’t, though. I hid under the bed again as he stumbled back into the room, surrounded for only a moment by guards before they slammed and locked the door. I watched his feet move tiredly to the bed, bare now. No armor adorned his body. Carefully I pulled myself out from under the bed, eyes wary as I watched him.

He looked haggard, broken. Haunted even. I sat down slowly next to where he lay, wondering what they did to him.

“Loki?” I whispered, pressing my palm to the blankets. He looked up at me with weary green eyes but said nothing, only touching my bare leg.

“Loki, what did they do to you?” I pressed, swallowing. He just looked so… defeated. I didn’t know how to match this Loki with the man who had tried to destroy my world, though the face was the same. Again he said nothing, just watching me. When I asked again he gripped his throat, shaking his head.

I fell silent, a chill running up my spine. Loki’s power, even moreso than the Tesseract ever had been, was his voice, lilting and intelligent and filled with persuasion. They had taken his truest essence of power from him, leaving him stripped of everything he had possessed.

I stared into Loki’s face as he pressed a finger to his lips, shaking his head and frowning.

Loki was a mute.