Heimdall stood still, his eyes consumed with every scene playing out, the curse of being the all-seeing. The stars reflected off him, as he gazed into the heavens from the broken Bifrost, his brow furrowed as he watched events unfold, his vision clouded to one scenario. His vision was never clouded. He was the all-seeing.

Then a voice rang out, called out to him, a voice he could never forget, and yet it spoke words different to what he'd ever expect to hear. It spoke of pleas, of repenting. It begged, and it begged on the behalf of another, for the grant of a myth, a legend, which only the Allfather had control over. Heimdall abandoned his post, rushing towards the Great Halls of Odin, to seek consultation with the king, to alert him of the situation, the plea. It was beyond the all-seeing one, this request, and it puzzled him.

The doors swung open, and the Allfather looked wearily to Heimdall from his place of resting, atop his throne. After the disappearance of Loki, King Odin rested little, fretting over the possibilities and consequences of the event. That Heimdall could not see nor hear the lost son only caused more worry for the king, as no-one could evade the watch of the all-seeing. It was impossible, or so they had believed.

Heimdall lowered to one knee, dipping his head out of respect, until the Allfather commanded him to rise again, and state his reason for intrusion into the Great Halls, his voice quivering slightly. The king had hid his true emotions well in the face of public, but behind golden doors, he felt no need to hold back. And to hide in the sight of the all-seeing was rather pathetic, and utterly pointless.

"My lord, your son requests supplementary power from Yggdrasil. He claims it is not for his own gain. He speaks truth." King Odin sighed, his heavy eyelids falling down. His hand slipped across his chin, and his body slumped slightly into the throne.

"I shall grant Thor the power, and let him be. Return to your station, all-seeing," he replied, heavy breathing lacing each pause in his speech.

"It is not a request from Thor Odinson, but one from Loki. He referred to you as 'father', my lord." Heimdall bowed and left the halls for his post, leaving behind an outwardly shocked, but inwardly ecstatic Odin Allfather behind, to link his lost son to the roots of the world tree if he dared grant one so treacherous such a powerful source.

The armour clad figure loomed over him now, a gauntlet wrapping itself in a vice-like grip, jerking him to his feet. Loki hissed, his leg twisting awkwardly as he dragged the broken limb behind him. The other fractured appendages had healed to a point he could bare, but even a fool would not attempt to use a broken leg. He inhaled, trying to collate all the magic that remained within him for one last feat. He could feel it building up, not to a significant extent, as it was severely depleted, but hopefully enough to perform one last spell. To project his voice across the cosmos.

"Heimdall, Allfather, if you can hear me, I beg of you, allow me to draw from the roots of Yggdrasil. I repent my wrong doings, I do this in aid of others. Please, father…" His plea was barely more than a whisper, glancing across at his brother's fallen body as he uttered the last few words, but it was louder than any sound before, his message echoing through both time and space, a cry of help, each word laced with magical intent. His body slumped slightly, raven strands falling forward, as the act drained him thoroughly. He was but a mere mortal now, until his magic returned.

"What a truly exquisite creature you are…" A cool finger ran down his cheek, the metal sliding over his flesh. He shivered slightly as the single finger traced over one his rune markings, supressing the urge to lash out. "It appears that you have been quite devious, haven't you, little Loki? That you have somehow informed your brother and his little friends of your… predicament. Thing is, it's turned to my advantage now…" Victor cast a glance down at Thor, his metal face turning upwards slowly, menacingly. "Thing is, Loki, you will do what I want now, and you won't resist me. I have, as these humans would say, leverage."

"I care not for Thor." Doom laughed, his grip tightening around Loki's arm, and the demi-god knew just how strained his voice had been.

"If you are the liesmith, then I truly feel sorry for your entire culture, for they are fools. But it matters not. I believe there is another you care for." He noticed the reaction: the casting downwards of the gaze, the slight wince, the grimace. Perfect. If there was one thing he had learnt over his years in the criminal underworld, it was that mental warfare was far more effective than physical, and could break someone much quicker, if the weak spots were struck with enough force. Love, for instance, was a brilliant fissure in an otherwise impenetrable shell.

"What do you wish of me, Von Doom?" There was a short puff of air, a deadly silence. Loki had begun to lose faith in the myth of Yggdrasil.

"Your magic."

"I have no magic." It wasn't entirely a lie, yet Von Doom seem unfazed, or rather, twistedly gleeful, at his response.

"Too bad then." The short statements caused something to well up inside the demi-god. Fear. Wait, what? Why was he, the God of Mischief, the liesmith, the destroyer of worlds, fearful? It made no sense, and yet it felt perfectly right. There was a slight chuckle from Victor, and Loki's murky green eyes shot open, as an explosion ricocheted through the compound.

The room flooded bright green light.

"Steve! Fuck, Steve!" The flames licked at the red and golden suit, rebelliously refusing to part as Tony clawed his way through the rubble. "Thor! Fucking hell, Dummy would have a field day here. When something's finally on fire, he isn't bloody well here!" The blistering heat was beginning to get to him, as he refused to put the shields back up, not until he was fighting again. They'd only waste power, and he didn't need them. Not really.

For someone who had a tendency for not playing well with others, he seemed to care a hell of a lot for them. Maybe it was because Steve still didn't understand the current thinking, and Thor struggled to comprehend the ideology and technology of Midgard. They were, in this century and realm, essentially like children, and he felt ever so guilty for letting them go off alone. And scared. Oh so fucking scared. Steve might be a super soldier, enhanced and all, but he wasn't immortal. He could still get hurt. He could still die. And Thor, he didn't know much about the way Thor worked biologically, only that he healed faster than 'petty mortals'. That didn't mean he couldn't be lying somewhere, dead, all because Tony hadn't have had the sense to go with them. Sure, he wasn't immortal either, but safety in numbers, right? At least, that's what they'd always told him as a child.

He persisted in shouting out their names in vain, despite how unlikely it was that they were even conscious after an explosion of such magnitude. Tony would've put it on par with one of his mid to high class explosives, back when he was still in weapons manufacturing. Back then, the bigger the boom, the better was his mentality, and he certainly lived up to the idea.

Tony glanced around frantically, his eyes only focusing on each spot once, flitting quickly. There had to be something somewhere. Anything. His gaze grazed over royal blue.

Blue. And red. And white.

Tony scrambled over to the shield, lifting it up, dusting it down, glancing around, when he heard a slight cough, and saw the rubble shuffle slightly. His hands clawed away the stone and dirt and metal, pushing them aside as if his life depended on it. Well, not his life. His stomach flipped, the metal mask pulling back, as he found a hand. The sight propelled him onwards, despite the searing heat, almost unbearable, the sweat beading on his forehead. The hand twitched slightly as Tony uncovered more of the battered soldier. It didn't take a genius to figure out it wasn't Thor: the Asgardian was far larger in size.

"Steve? Steve, can you hear me? I'm going to get you out of here, okay? Just hang on, okay. Just, just don't die on me, okay? I'm not going to be responsible for any more deaths, so don't you dare do that to me." The voice was more stammered than the usually arrogant billionaire would've preferred, but it wasn't exactly the most pressing matter at the moment. He'd managed to free the majority of Steve's upper body, and made the decision to try and pull him out, his metal arms gently pulling the super soldier upwards, into his chest. His body fell limp onto Tony, and for a moment, Tony thought he'd been too late, too slow, until Steve began to stir again, the blue eyes falling atop him. He glanced around, fazed and fuzzy, until he looked back towards the billionaire, understanding his eyes.

"Tony… Please tell me no-one kissed me…" Tony couldn't help but let out a laugh at the grin Steve cracked, mimicking the time Tony had been in his place, had stared death in the face. "But seriously, where's Thor?" His voice was slowly picking up to his normal tone, but it still bordered on a whisper, soft and strained.

"I- I don't know. Wasn't he with you?" Steve shook his slightly, pushing himself away from the billionaire with a blush as he realised just how close they were.

"I told him to go off ahead, to go find Loki whilst I dealt with Doom…" Realization spread across Steve's face as he remembered the last few moments, connecting the events in his mind, and suddenly, his face was the picture of fear. "Oh, Tony, oh god this isn't good. I thought I was fighting Doom. Oh god I should've realised. It was a Doombot Tony. Doctor Doom is still somewhere here, and so is Thor. What have I done…" His uncharacteristic rambling went for a moment, but Tony had gathered what information he needed to understand.

"So it was a trap. Fuck fuck fuck I gotta get you out of here," he groaned, a rather hot metal clad hand running through his hair. He noticed Steve start to open his mouth in protest, and stopped him before he could start. "Steve, you look like complete shit. You can barely stand on your own two feet, you've got blood all over you, and I wouldn't be surprised if you got a broken rib or two." JARVIS scanned over Steve's body, feeding back to Tony. "Wait, make that two broken, one fractured. Give me one reason why I shouldn't get you away from here."

Steve looked at him, and suddenly, through the smoke and the flames, and the mist in his mind, it all became very clear. That feeling that had bubbled at the bottom of his stomach, brewing itself, waiting for the right moment to release, had flooded through his body, leaving him determined. Sore, exhausted, but bloody well determined. And it seemed to take over his mind as well, as Steve couldn't stop the word, the one word, falling from his lips, drawing a look of both surprise and understanding from the billionaire genius in front. It just forced its way through pursed, clenched lips, and in just one word, Steve encompassed the reasoning for all his recent actions, all his emotions since seeing the raven-haired demi-god.

"Love."

"Fuck you. Don't lag behind, Capsicle." In the depths of his mind, Tony had always had an inkling as to why Steve had agreed so willingly to accompany Thor, or why he'd spent so much time in the God of Mischief's room during his brief (and fake) stay with them. And Tony hadn't the heart to stop him: if Bruce was in danger, he'd be exactly the same, martyring on until his final breath. Bloody hell, what had love turned him in to?

Sweet heavens, there wasn't a word quite to describe how he felt. It surged through him, stronger than ever before, and it felt so damn wonderful! He felt weightless, bathing in his own power, fingers twitching, a rather sick smile on his face. Revenge was a dish best served cold, and Victor Von Doom had certainly helped there. Unparalleled power, a desire for vengeance and an emotionally unstable young Jotun. What a wonderfully chaotic potion.

Von Doom hissed as the blinding light died down, daring to look through the dulled silver slits in his metal façade. Loki hung in the air, bathed in an ethereal green light, and his eyes opened in an instant. The red iris was gone, the pupil gone, replaced by green, and they glared straight through Von Doom, tearing him apart inside. He twisted a hand, jerking the dictator upwards by his cape, and pulled him towards himself, until his flushed green eyes bore straight through Von Doom. Never had Victor felt quite so violated, despite Loki having not laid a finger upon him, as it felt as if the demi-god could see everything: his soul, his memories, his emotions, absolutely everything, and there was nothing to do to stop him. He felt pathetic, and completely humiliated. And utterly confused as to how the situation that he had dominated only moments ago had flipped, leaving the Jotun in control. He smiled a twistedly innocent grin, blue lips pulling back to show his teeth, and it was rather frightening, as the demi-god acted as if the power had possessed him, the pure green eyes most terrifying of all.

"What are you?" He mumbled, a question he'd intended to be challenging so he could reclaim some of his dominating status in the situation. Instead, it came out more like a plea. Loki laughed, his nose scrunching up slightly, then focused his glare back on Von Doom, who would've fidgeted if possible, but found it impossible, appearingly frozen in place. Fantastic.

"Who am I, pathetic mortal? I am Loki Odinson, and Loki Laufeyson. I am Loki of Asgard, and Loki of Jotuhnheim. I am the God of Mischief, and the Liesmith, the heir to the Asgardian throne and the Jotun throne. I am father to Hela, goddess of the underworld, Fenrir, the sun eater, Jormungandr, the world eater, and Sleipnir, the eight-legged horse. I am Silvertongue, I am a murderer. I am everything you could want me to be, I am your darkest nightmare. I am known by many names, each striking fear in the heart of many. And I am, as you mortals would say, in love." The last statement was hissed through clenched teeth, a dangerous growl cutting through his ice cold throat. He felt a shift in his bones as his leg forced itself back into shape, the bone grafting itself back together. The cuts scattered across his body healed, the skin knitting itself together, and Victor Von Doom watched in both horror and awe as the grotesque passing occurred, the skin twisting and moving itself across his face and chest. "Have you ever, Victor Von Doom, been in contact with a Frost Giant? I've been reliably informed it is not a pleasant experience. I watched as a brave warrior and a good friend had half the skin on his arm burnt off due to how cold we are, after mere seconds. I would love to conduct an experiment, Von Doom, and it would pleasure me greatly if you volunteered to help me." His mind was completely dominated by power and revenge, corrupted by sick desires, and he flicked his fingers, forcing an involuntary "Of course" from the crazed dictator's lips.

"Perfect," was all he uttered, as a blue hand, still shrouded in the ethereal green glow, reached out, his body twisting around till he was almost parallel with the floor. He kicked one foot up in the air, a grin on his lips as Von Doom realised just where the hand was reaching for. Long, bony fingers, riddled with rune markings, wrapped themselves around the dictator's neck, the metal panels becoming frozen almost instantly. Within seconds, a shrill scream echoed throughout the burning compound. "Feel my pain, Victor. Feel everything you have ever inflicted on me, everything Thanos has ever inflicted on me. Suffer with me Victor, for you just killed part of me."

"Tony. Did you, hear that?" Steve's voice was wearing thin, his breath coming out in pants as he ran beside the scientist, the flames licking at his legs, stinging like hell. He refused to stop though. No, stopping was never an option, not in this occupation anyway. Being a hero was all consuming, and though the first few times of being the good guy who saves the day were emotionally rewarding, it grew less gratifying as time passed, less of a voluntary thing, more of a chore, as much as he hated to admit it.

"You're not imagining it Steve. Just ahead I think, and I'd rather we hurry. It doesn't sound like Thor, but you know, if our lovely Asgardian hair advert got a hold of Von Doom, I actually feel kind of sorry for the guy. He's as good as dead." The screaming seemed to intensify, until it cut off completely, and Tony lifted is arm, pointing in front of him. "Fuck, right, no joking. What if, you know, Thor's not there…" He earned himself a panicked glare from Steve, and grimaced slightly at his own thought. "I think it's coming from there. You see it? The glowy doorway-thing just ahead." Steve certainly saw it. How the hell did Tony expect him to miss to glowing doorway? Nevertheless, his legs pushed harder than before despite the burning, which was more from how much he'd been exerting himself than the fire.

The temperature fell the closer they got, the magnitude of the flames rapidly decreasing, and Tony reached the doorway first, stopping dead in flight, landing flat on his feet with a thud. Another metallic thump rang out just before Steve had swerved round the corner of the broken doorway. And he, like Tony, stopped still, wincing from the glow, his head tilting slightly, trying to wrap his head around what he say.

Closest to them, Thor slumped across the floor, unconscious but breathing, his chest rising and falling ever so slightly, his skin losing colour. On the back of his head, his hair was matted with dried blood. A swift blow to the head to render him unconscious, nothing more. Mjolnir lay beside him, his fingers relaxed around the handle, as if even in such a state, he was prepared to fight.

Victor Von Doom lay limp, his armour frosted over, a hand mark dented into the plating around his neck. The small amounts of flesh showing had blackened, burnt apparently from extreme cold. His cape spread out behind him, one leg twisted into a rather awkward and painful position, and his were shut, a gathering of ice around his eyes where the beginnings of tears had frozen over.

And then Steve dared look up to the glowing figure, asphyxiated by the sheer beauty of it. The blue skin looked so, so touchable underneath the green hue, and an overwhelming desire urged him to trace the rune markings across its chest. Tattered trousers hung off its hips, clearly too large, but the rest of its body was bare. Black hair, messy and long, hung down to its shoulders, uncut and uncared for. He finally looked into its eyes, mesmerised by the flushed green eyes, murky and swarming with emotion, and… growing bigger?

He realised whatever it was had lifted him, as pressure on his feet was relieved, and his torso, aching from the apparent breakages, snapped back into its original internal form. The wisps of light tickled his skin, pulling him forward until he hung in front of the creature, which seemed to be studying him. And up close, it looked almost like… Loki…

"You're alive, human." Steve let out a breath, his eyes lighting up as the familiar voice spoke out, so beautifully deep and husky, and the super soldier could've swore he heard a hint of glee in the usually bitter voice. "I thought you dead."

"I'm not dead. Only just, though, thank Tony for that." The demi-god glanced over Steve to the billionaire, who stood, apparently now slightly more relaxed, propping himself against the broken door frame.

"I owe you my thanks then, Stark. Why did you not leave though, upon the Iron Man's arrival?" It was lass of a question, and more of a statement of disdain.

"I think you know quite well why, Loki. Love." The demi-god smiled slightly, his lips fading back into their normal hue of pinkish red. His fingertips changed back fleshy pale, a metamorphism which ran down his hand. He glanced back up at Steve, and grabbed a tuft of blonde hair, pulling the human's head into his, colliding their lips together.

Steve wrapped his arms around the demi-god, his skin morphing back pale, touchable for Steve, until he couldn't have looked more human, nor more distant from his Jotun form. The super soldier's hand snaked its way through black hair, grasping onto strands, pulling back slightly. He couldn't care less if he'd been raised to see homosexuality as wrong. Someone might scold him later, tell him how unnatural it was, but this moment, this one moment taught that love was love, no matter who it was between. Loki wrapped his other arm around Steve's waist, and pushed his lips down harder on to the super soldiers, blocking out the outside world to the point where neither noticed when their feet touched the floor, or when they hit a wall, Loki pressing against Steve in their passionate embrace. It wasn't perfect, but perfect was cliché, and there had been far too much of that lately, and so in its own little way, it was a close to perfect as non-perfect could be. That was, until Tony interrupted after much deliberation.

"Look, I know you guys are all desperate for sex and lusting after each other, well, I would be at least, but could you save it for the bedroom? Not that I have anything against it, heck, I support all love, but we've kind of got a big oaf of thunder to deal with, you know?" Tony felt a little awkward when both the bare chested Jotun and the torn-top super soldier glared at him, with glares that would've made Natasha proud.

A/N
Um, yeah, long chapter. I'm crap at writing romance, as you can tell, so I do apologise! All of Loki's children that I mentioned are actually Loki's children. Sleipnir even had a few second cameo in Thor!

Thank you all for all the support, I can't thank you enough, but just know, this story is not over yet! Thank you again!