The Ant and the Boot

She stood away from me warily, pacing like a trapped wolf separated from her pack, eyes moving over me in slow, calculated movements. Her narrow neck moved as she swallowed hard, light turning her pale skin almost white. I watched her, barely daring to breathe. I feared she would run or cry out if I moved too suddenly.

“Hello,” I said quietly, tucking hands into jean pockets. They were strangely stiff garbs, but durable enough. She stopped moving then took a step closer to me, her movements hesitant. In the darkness I could clearly see the spectral outlines of power dance between her fingertips as she anxiously clenched and unclenched her knuckles.

“Hello,” she replied.

“Are you well?”

Her eyes flashed dangerously. She quickly closed the distance between us in a few quick strides, feet moving lithely over the ground until she was peering up into my face.

“’Am I well’?” she hissed. “I died, became a god, and then you left me and began killing my people, Loki. How ‘well’ do you think I could possibly be?”

“I swear to you, Dove, that the attacks on your people were done without my council or consent,” I said, gripping her shoulder. She shrugged me off, looking away from me, and I felt a jolt of electricity run down my arm where we had made contact.

“I don’t want to kill your people,” I insisted.

“I don’t believe you. What’s different now, Loki? Why would you suddenly care?”

I blinked at her, confused.

“Is it not obvious?”

“No.”

I opened my mouth once, then closed it again. Something didn’t make sense. I sat down on the couch behind me, regarding her face. She revealed nothing, features as expressionless as stone.

Had Stark lied to me?

I glanced at her abdomen. It was still flat, but that was as it should be at this early stage. My eyes flickered back to her face.

“Dove,” I said carefully, gaging her reaction, “I could not turn my back on my child.”

I needn’t have gaged her reaction: the movement couldn’t have been clearer if I had shot her. She bucked forward as if hit in the stomach, her fists and face going white as snow. Her eyes widened and she stared at me, a hand flying to touch her abdomen. It was true, then.

“How did you know?” she asked, her voice very small.

“Stark. He knew that I would come to investigate when you left the city and left a message for me at his tower.”

She shot a dirty look over her shoulder – presumably in the direction of where Stark was sleeping – before turning back to me. Still, she seemed to grow considerably less tense with this assurance.

“How can I know you mean that?” she asked. “I know how well you’ve used your silver tongue in the past.”

I raised my eyebrows and her face quickly turned a bright shade of red.

“For lying,” she added. I still chuckled quietly and her cool veneer was cracked by a smile.

“Be quiet,” she said.

“But I didn’t say a word,” I replied innocently. Again she blushed. I pulled her to me by her hips, pressing my lips to the taut skin just above her navel. She stiffened, but her hands eventually found their way into my hair.

“Let us not come together as strangers, my love,” I said, looking up at her and taking her hand. I could feel the power of a goddess pulsing underneath her veins. She regarded my carefully, lips pressed into a fine line.

“How do we defeat them, Loki?” she asked.

“Just as the Avengers did before. The next place they attack shall be Chiapas, Mexico. Thanos will attack very soon, but will expect a quick and easy victory.”

Dove nodded then hesitantly sat down next to me. The blue light of the Tesseract flickered in her seafoam eyes. I turned to her, taking my queen’s face in my hands.

“I have missed you,” I whispered. She looked away from me and bit her lip gently, a motion that suited her well and made thoughts dance around my skull that ought not to be shared. Her hand touched my thigh, fingers tightening on the Midgardian fabric.

“I’m scared for our child, Loki,” she said quietly, her eyes finding mine again.

“I shall make a place for them – for us,” I replied. I pulled her to me and ran her soft lips against mine, pulling her closer as her hands wound into my hair and touched my chest. I shifted, spreading her legs and falling between them as I leaned her back against black cushions. Her hair fell like a white-gold waterfall onto the floor. My body responded strongly to hers as her breath quickened, my mortal garbs suddenly seeming too tight. Fingers gripped flesh and tongues twined against molten lips, her skin turning hot against my cool body. I pushed her legs apart farther and ran my hands under soft cloth pants, her skin smooth and searing against my fingertips.

“Loki,” she gasped, gripping my hand before I could continue. Her face was flushed, her voice husky, but she tried to pull herself back into coherence. My body screamed at me to persist before she could collect her thoughts, but she held me firmly even as my fingers moved to push aside thin undergarments. Her hands turned to fists in my hair, holding me a breath away from her lips.

“Not here, Loki,” she breathed, “Not now. Not tonight, not on Tony’s couch.”

I took a shuddering breath but leaned away slowly, allowing her to sit up. Part of me ached – and quite acutely – but I allowed Dove to collect herself, running her fingers through her tangled hair.

“I love you,” I murmured, watching her straighten her thin shirt to conceal an almost-exposed breast.

“I… I love you too, Loki, but you’re not always an easy person to be in love with,” she replied, glancing up at me.

“Then be my wife.”

She raised an eyebrow. “And that won’t complicate things, I’m sure.”

“It shan’t. Not until Thanos is beaten.”

Her eyebrow rose more severely.

“You are already bearing my child, so wouldn’t it be logical to marry me?” I reasoned, gesturing at her abdomen. She snorted very ungraciously.

“The ‘logical’ thing to do would be to call everyone else and take you as prisoner,” she replied. I thought about this, seeing her point but not necessarily agreeing.

“I don’t like your logic.”

“I don’t like the way you kill people.”

I regarded her for a moment, her eyes steady upon mine. She had grown stronger in our time apart, more self-assured and daring. Why wouldn’t she be? She was a god now. I put a hand on her bare thigh, leaning close enough to her face to smell her minty breath.

“Then listen to this logic,” I continued, smiling. “We are both gods, but gods without a true place. We have a child who will, like us, be god-like. Shouldn’t we, as parents, give our child a better world, a greater world, for their kind?”

She regarded me coolly, evenly, her eyes flickering from my eyes to my lips. She rested a hand on mine, the contact both alluring me and keeping me at bay at the same time.

“I don’t want my child to grow up thinking their better than those around them,” she replied, her voice carefully controlled. My brow furrowed as my confusion deepened.

“Then we shall raise our child on Asgard,” I said, laughing. Her face remained unchanged.

“My child will not think less of my people,” she rephrased. My brows knit tighter together.

“But, dear, these people are mortal. And petty.”

“Your power play with your brother is petty.”

My jaw snapped shut, anger, knitting my teeth together. She still regarded me with that same infuriatingly calm expression, gaging my responses. Still I could feel her power gathering under her skin, preparing to defend herself lest I lash out.

She needn’t bother. I would not attack my queen, not when she was with child. I slowly, carefully released the anger in a low, steady breath, only then realizing that I had dug my nails into her leg. I released these too gently, taking her hand that rested on mine and kissing it.

“Forgive me, but I do not understand your views,” I said, my voice harsher than I had meant it to be. She nodded politely, her skin warm but her expression still frosty. And I had believed things were progressing so well between us. I took her stony face betwixt my hands, pressing my lips to hers.

“Perhaps,” I whispered lowly, “I shall offer a little more to you to convince you of my love,” and to accentuate my words I slid my hand slowly down her chest to her hips, tugging lightly at the hem of her clothing. I watched her, hovering so close to her lips that they almost touched.

She smiled, but instead of pulling me to her she set my hand aside and averted my lips to kiss my cheek. She then stood, parting from me with languid grace. I stared after her, stunned.

“Give me back my world, Loki,” she replied, “and then we can talk of children and proposals. By the way, I’d leave soon: Steve tends to be awake bright and early and I don’t think he’d take too kindly to finding you in our home. I’ll meet you in Mexico.”

And then she walked away from me, seafoam eyes blazing into my soul before turning and walking back down the hall. I swallowed, looking away from her.

“Another night, perhaps,” I replied, then tore time and space to return to my personal hell in New York.



There was something deeply satisfying about cock-blocking a vengeful god. Still, I felt exhausted as I sank down onto my bed – and still not entirely sure if I’d done the right thing. Part of me wondered if I should have given into my craven desires, while another, more rational part of me demanded why I hadn’t called the others and actually taken Loki as prisoner.

Because he’s not good enough bait, I reasoned. He’s more valuable acting as a double agent than being locked up here.

Yet I knew that by letting him go I was also putting all of us – and him – even further into harm’s way, us if he wasn’t being honest and now knew that we wouldn’t negotiate and him if he was being honest and now was trying to deceive the god of death. Could Loki do something that seemingly noble?

I had to remember that Loki saw his actions as, if not good, justified. He genuinely saw those who weren’t Asgardian as lesser, thereby making their deaths more tolerable in the grand scheme of his plans.

But the confrontation had convinced me of one thing: I, no matter how tempting it might sometimes seem, could not die. My child and I were the only things tying Loki to the fate of this world, the only reason he would even consider fighting alongside his brother. I sighed, closing my eyes. Loki’s promise might be the only shot we had at defeating this enemy.

“You know, I’ve seen men left frustrated, but I think you’ve made it an art form.”

I jolted upright, head whipping around. I must have nodded off, because now my doorway was partially open and a figure was leaning in the doorway with their arms folded across their chest. Even in the shadows I could see his sweep of golden hair, tousled enough to show he had been asleep but never, ever messy enough to look unkempt. I opened my mouth, closed it, then shook my head and spoke.

“What are you doing up?”

“Like you said: I like to get up bright and early,” he replied. “Can I come in?”

I swallowed but nodded, moving to a sitting position and wrapping my arms modestly around my bare arms. It was a reflex around him: thou shalt not show skin in front of Steve Rogers. He sat down on my bed but at the opposite end, his 1940’s manners seizing control.

“How long were you listening?” I asked, leaning against the back wall behind my bed. He shrugged.

“For most of it. I couldn’t sleep and was walking around when I saw a light on in the kitchen. I think you were yelling at him for asking if you were okay or something.

I thought about everything that happened after that point and blushed furiously. “Oh.”

“I’ll admit, it got a little awkward at some parts.”

I glanced up at him, raising an eyebrow. “You could have left.”

“I wanted to see what you’d do. You stood up to him better than I thought you would.”

I watched his expression, my eyes adjusting to the darkness well enough with my powers to see clearly the features of his face. I could see his features were still turned down in a frown, brows knit together.

“But?”

He glanced at me. “But you love him.”

I blinked then looked away quickly. “Sometimes. It’s a mixed relationship.”

He sighed, turning to face me a little more. He kneaded one of his knuckles into an open palm.

“Look, Dove,” he sighed, “Back in my time there weren’t single mothers. If you got pregnant, you got married.”

“So you’re upset that I didn’t agree to marry the supervillian?” I asked.

“No,” Steve said firmly shaking his head. “I don’t think you should marry Loki. It’s just something I’ve been thinking about a lot lately.”

I raised an eyebrow. Steve sighed, obviously having difficulty trying to convey his moral code.

“Look Dove, I think it is very important that kids have fathers, husbands have wives, all of that. It was a big part of life growing up. Since my father died in the war I saw how important it was to have that father figure,” he continued.

“You didn’t turn out so bad, though,” I said, offering up a smile.

“That’s because I had Bucky’s dad to look up to. I was always so jealous though, of Bucky who had a father. And the guy wasn’t even Bucky’s real dad, either: he was this guy that Bucky’s mom married after her husband died, but he treated Bucky and I like we were his real sons. Fathers are important – but it’s important that they’re good fathers, too.”

I was having trouble following but nodded like I understood.

“So I shouldn’t marry Loki because he wouldn’t be a good father,” I said carefully, watching him.

“And you should be with someone who would be. Someone who could be a good man and take care of the kid and you,” Steve finished, nodding. I nodded slowly.

“So that’s the America you grew up in?” I asked. “I mean, I had a single – well, usually married, but for all intents and purposes single – mother and I turned out okay.”

“Look, I’m still getting used to this new world that I’m living in. I don’t understand or agree with a lot of the changes. But hell, Dove, if I know anything it’s that there are better men than Loki, men who will be better dads – and better husbands, and I –“

He cut himself off, snapping his mouth shut and closing his eyes.

“And what, Steve?” I asked. I leaned forward, touching a hand to his shoulder; I had never seen him like this.

“But you love him,” he said, his tone almost a growl. He looked at me for a moment, blue eyes hard and jaw tight, before quickly turning his head away. He stiffly stood and I pulled my hand back as it skimmed over his fingertips.

“I’m… Sorry, I think,” I said, turning away from him. For a tense moment he stood there, his hand next to mine, before walking quickly towards the door.

“You just deserve a better man, Dove,” Steve said. “Sleep well for the rest of the night.”

He shut the door behind him with a heavy click, the silence so thick that I could hear his footsteps all the way to the kitchen followed by the buzz of empty air. Only then did I curl back under my covers, staring sightlessly at the ceiling.

“What the hell?” I whispered to the walls around me, shifting under my blankets and pretending to fall asleep, though sleep never came.



“So we decided to get married.”

I raised an eyebrow, regarding him over the table and pouring myself another drink.

“Is she pregnant? Because if she’s pregnant too I’m just ending it now and saving myself from the horror early on,” I said, gesturing out a tall window. He laughed.

“No, we just decided that time might be short for us so we should spend what we have left of it together.”

“That doesn’t mean you have to be married.”

“Yeah, but if we ever want to convince ourselves we’ll settle down after all this is over it does.”

I passed Legolas the bottle of bourbon and he quickly poured himself a small glass, downing it in one gulp. I sighed, leaning against the bar table. This had become somewhat of the male haven in the house, being that two of the women in the house couldn’t drink because they were pregnant.

“So, Ms. I-hate-men-and-all-things-fun is engaged. Who would’ve thunk it?” I sighed. He shrugged.

“She doesn’t hate all men, just you.”

I scoffed. “Yeah, wouldn’t doubt it.”

He smiled. We poured more and drank.

“So, uh, how are things going with you and Tashy anyway?” I asked, leaning back in my chair. He gave me a look that both judged me but betrayed nothing at the same time.

“Well, we’re engaged. But I don’t think she’d like being called Tashy,” he replied.

It was then that Captain Crunch came in, suited up in his spangley suit with his shield across his back. He looked serious.

“Hey, we need to be in Mexico right now,” he said, looking between the two of us. I put down my drink.

“Did we Jarvis find them?” I asked, then looked up at my ceiling. “Jarvis, why did you tell Stars and Stripes and not me?”

“I had no algorithm that disclosed a definite location, sir,” he replied. In Jarvis speak that meant that he knew how Cappy knew but hadn’t found it out through any of his programming. I looked skeptically at Cappy.

“You sure about this?” I asked. He nodded.

“Sure as I can be.”

Something still seemed strange about the situation. Actually everything smelled a little funny.

“Jarvis, do you think we should go to Mexico?” I asked, looking up at the ceiling again.

“I would agree with the Captain in this case, Mr. Stark.”

So however Cappy knew, his tip was good. I watched him for a second and then nodded, reminding myself to consult Jarvis about what he knew before we went airborne.

“Okay, let’s suit up,” I said, throwing my glass into the sink. “We’re going to Mexico.”