Loki was brought back to the dungeons with Natasha and placed in the cell next to her. They had three days left, to be spent together, before the end. The man was silent for a good portion of the first few hours, and despite the situation Natasha couldn't help but think that the tension between them felt more like a lover's quarrel than anything else. She stayed quet as well, not wanting to be the first to give in. Besides, she was sure he'd have more to say than she did. She'd gotten all of her anger out before the trial; he was the one left with the stewing emotions while Natasha had made peace with the situation. It was a comforting relief to, for once, be somewhat in control of the situation. In the silence she heard the sound of footsteps pacing back and forth on the stone floor. He was likely denying that this was evening happening. He thought Odin's mind would be changed and that he would be saved.

If it was, well, then the king wasn't as unbiased and fair as he tried to lead his subjects to believe. Not that it would make a difference to anyone but her.

The sun had already set and Natasha had curled into her customary ball in preparation of falling asleep when the pacing stopped and he finally spoke.

"How did you know I did not mean it?" His voice was quiet, pensive, and took her immediately off guard. She'd expected anger, curses to be thrown at her, not civilized conversation.

"When you said you loved me?" She clarified.

"Yes."

She breathed deep, stretching out as she saw her chances of sleep dwindling and contemplated how best to tell him. "Steve loves me, I know that now, and despite everything I put him through he was the only one who came to me when I needed it."

"Rogers is a bleeding heart-he would've done it for anyone," Loki spat.

"You didn't, though." The accusation is quiet and yet rings between them. "For all your words and your confessions and your passion, you know you don't love me. Perhaps you love the idea of me, perhaps my body, or even it's my ability to empathize with you and what has happened, but you don't love me." She swallowed audibly, listening to his ragged breathing on the other side of the wall and trying to picture him. He was likely standing, legs in his wide, customary stance, hands balled into fists at his side as he tried to compartmentalize his anger and indignation at the situation and at her words. It made her stomach tighten, knowing that she'd hurt him, because even after everything he'd done to her she still very much cared for him, but she wasn't going to be the only one to pay for what had happened. Natasha was very much a firm believer in equality, especially in this case.

"I think I might have loved you at one time, or at least as close to it as I could," he admitted after more silence had made the air difficult to breathe in, growing heavy and ripe with accusations and history, words being hollowed out and promises disappearing into thin air.

She knew that, or at least guessed at it. "It was easy when you did, but once things grew more difficult and complex you isolated yourself. It's not your fault because I do the same thing, but you can't . . . You didn't defend me, Loki. You left me to die because it was too difficult to go up against your wife, even though you hated her. You didn't fight for me."

His lack of an answer is all she needs to know that she's entirely right, and it makes her flip over onto her other side, trying to get as far away from him as possible. It doesn't make it hurt any less just because she knew what was coming. He was quiet for some time after that and she wondered if he'd fallen asleep, if he even could being the spoiled prince that he was. Bastard probably never had to sleep on anything less than a feather mattress his whole life. She, however, had had a life full of discomfort; why should the days leading up to her death be any different?

"Did you know I was lying to you about why Sigyn and I were getting married?"

She barely stifled a groan, having been on the cusp of sleep when he pulled her back. "No. Why are you telling me all of this?" It certainly wasn't making the situation any better.

"Because not many people know and . . . I want to try and be honest with you."

"It's a little late for that," she muttered under her breath, shifting to pull her legs up to her chest, still on her side. Why bother now?

"Yes, and with anyone else it might not matter but I can say now that I want you to know the truth." He sounded sincere, but she was used to that. When didn't he sound sincere, especially when he was trying to get his own way? "There was no handmaiden I was trying to impress. It was Sigyn. She wouldn't leave me alone, and I'd read somewhere that, if I could just convince her to come with me there was supposedly a spell that would banish her. But it needed her blood. I managed to convince her that I'd fallen in love and wanted her to follow me so I might give her a token of my affection. When she did I knocked her out and cut into her, trying to keep her away. I didn't realize until later that the book was very literal, and had Thor and Rogers not found us by some lucky mishap I would have killed her." Here he took a shuddering breath. "My father was livid, threatened to have me hanged for what I'd done and I deserved no less. Her parents, however, saw a fortune to be made and demanded that she and I marry to make up for it, all after the medics had managed to save her and undid what I'd done. I was in such a state of shock I accepted." He was quiet a little longer, as though he was contemplating what next to say. "That's what this is. Her revenge on me, and you got pulled into the middle of it."

"You dragged me into it. You could have left well enough alone after one night," Natasha shot back, one hand curling into a fist. How dare he make it look like this was Sigyn's fault when he just confessed to her what he'd done to earn her scorn? "You're lucky you're not dead. If anyone other than a royal had done that they'd have been hanged or burned."

"If I hadn't been born a royal Sigyn wouldn't have been forced upon me and I'd have been able to marry who I chose." He countered, voice edgy.

Natasha snorted. Hadn't they had this conversation before? "You have no idea what it's like to be a commoner, what actually goes into our marriages. You either get sold off to the highest bidder if you are a woman and your father has any sort of say in it and you learn to deal with someone who you may not know and may not even like. You know what my husband is like. You truly think you have it off worse than me because you were forced into a marriage for nearly killing the woman?" Her voice was a low hiss and as the words passed her lips she felt any sort of remorse or sorrow for what she was doing fade away as well. Sigyn owed her, whether or not she thought of it that way. If it hadn't been for Natasha she'd still be married to the creep.

"And you think it's easier being a royal? Families throw their daughters at you, telling them to do anything and everything to capture our interest. Most of them are too shy or too young to do anything but the ones that do never leave. You're never given a moment's peace because everyone wants what you have, what you've always had no matter if you desire it or not, and they seek you out to try and beguile you not because they enjoy who you are as a person but because they seek and look out only for themselves." Loki was just as angry, it turned out, his voice cutting through the brick wall between them as if it wasn't there. Natasha rolled her eyes. Forgive her if she didn't exactly feel sorry for him but at least he never had to worry about the abuse, the pain of not being able to make ends meet and having your husband look at you as though you were a failure, of finding him in bed with another woman-.

Oh, wait. He did know what it was like, although it was from Alexei's point of view. As she laid there considering that she grew more furious not only with the prince opposite her but with herself. Hadn't she been hurt by Alexei's betrayal with Yelena, and yet there she was doing the same thing? Something inside of her twisted uncomfortably and she let out a low growl. Damn him, and damn herself. She was an idiot.

She didn't say anything for the rest of the night, stewing on her latest revelation and feeling more of an idiot for not having come to the realization sooner. She didn't think what she'd done deserved death, because if so there were a great many men and women that should be put to the rope as well, but it didn't sit well with her any longer. She'd been so blinded by what she wanted to believe, that someone had cared for her at least in some strange way. The sex had been great and the man as charming as ever when he began, but looking back at it she would take it back if she could.

There were a great many things she'd take back if she could, many decisions she'd undo, and wrongs she'd right if only she had the power.

"Why me?" She hadn't really thought about the question until the end of the second day. They'd already spent most of the day in silence, neither wanting to speak to the other about what they'd already talked about. There was too much bad blood between them, it seemed, and though Nat was skeptical about this question she couldn't help herself. He'd never given her a real answer all the times she'd talked to him about it before and perhaps, now that he didn't feel any sort of loyalty towards her, he might give her a straight answer. It was all she wanted at the moment, or at least all she wanted that was reasonable.

When he didn't answer immediately she assumed he was too proud to. The smarmy bastard. She gritted her teeth and was prepared to say something when he cut through her concentration, words sharp as a knife. "You were fun. New. I could tell it wasn't the first time you'd done something like that, and as I learned more about you I thought we were too similar to let you go. I needed you; it was an actual compulsion to have you by my side, to feel as if you were mine though you were married to another. It was as though I was looking at a mirror of myself and as you know by now I am quite vain. I thought you might be the only one who I was compatible with."

"And what changed that?" She asked before she could contemplate the words falling from her lips. Why did it matter? It didn't, she tried to reassure herself, even if some small part of her still wanted to know why he thought she was so easy to replace if he'd once valued her so highly.

"I have been striving to be more practical. I kept you at my side as long as you would allow, as long as anyone else would allow. When that no longer became an option I thought it best to look elsewhere to appease my needs. It made no sense to pine over a woman who, even if she managed to worm her way out of the situation, would never be of use to me in the same sense again." His words were cold and even if he hadn't intended them to hurt they did. He thought her replaceable just because it had grown difficult to be with her? Ass. She gritted her teeth and he took her silence as a cue to go on. "But even when we were not doing as well as we had in the beginning I stuck with you because, despite what you might think, I cared about you. I bought you the tavern to have you closer, but also to keep you from your husband you so hated. It worked in both of our favors, and I helped you out of a sense of care as well as desire on my own behalf. Even after I moved on I didn't feel right about it. I took Sigyn to bed out of duty the first evening, but all I could think of, and this is entirely true, is you. I missed you, how you felt beneath me but also the time spent before and after, the talking. How open I could be with you. As I told you I felt our similarities to be the most important." He gave a deep sigh. "It is strange. I've never felt that way before and without knowing how to react or how to label it I distanced myself and lashed out later, unjustly."

"It was justly," she cut in. "But what I did was as well. I'm sorry Loki, but I won't be the only one to take the fall for this. I'm not about to let you walk off while I suffocate. Funny feeling or not."

"I understand." And he sounded as though he had. His voice had gotten slightly closer, as if he'd turned his head closer to the wall. Natasha listened harder, trying to detect an ounce of a lie. "I understand it, Natasha, and I respect you for having the strength to do it."

It wasn't what she was expecting at all. She'd anticipated name calling, a slew of curses and a verbal slaughtering to cut her down to her basest level of humanity. But this? That acceptance and quiet, unreservedly apologetic understanding? She didn't know what to make of that. She swallowed hard, the conflicting emotions making it more and more difficult to see Loki for what he really was.

She let out a soft sigh. "Is there any chance that I'm going to get to know the real you?" She asked, sounding exasperated. She was. There were too many mind games with Loki, and if there was one thing she was looking forward to at least she wouldn't have to play them any more. That was a plus. Without much else to say she stretched out where she was sitting on the floor, feeling her bones creak and pop as her muscles did their best to relax.

The last day Loki had one final request. It was right before their dinner, and he was urgent sounding as he pressed closer to the wall. "Natasha I have a proposition for you."

Well that was dangerous, but what more could he do to her? She bit her bottom lip before agreeing to it. "What do you want?"

"If I can manage it would you . . . I mean there is nothing worse that could happen to us that isn't already going to tomorrow." She'd never heard him sound so flustered or so unsure before, not even when they'd first started this madness. "If I can get the guard who brings our dinner to agree with it would you couple with me one last time?"

She actually snorted, unsure what to make of that. "We've been condemned to death because we had sex outside of our own marriages, and you want to make it worse? You really know there's no chance that we can get out of this, don't you?"

"I know better than to give myself false hope."

"And what does your hope say about this situation and my answer?" She asked, amused.

"That you would look forward to coupling one last time without worrying about the repercussions. It's not the best of situations that we're in right now so why not make it better if we can? It's not as if anything worse can happen."

How did he manage to read her thoughts like that? But he had a point, though she knew that there was a slim to none chance of it working. The guard would never let him do it.

Not an hour later and he was stepping slowly into her her cell. He looked disheveled as she'd expected, hair greasy and matted down from the many times he'd run his hands through it. His gait was stiff while his eyes looked as though he hadn't had sleep in the two past days they'd been there.

"You've got an hour," the guard said as he shut the barred door behind Loki. The prince waited until they were alone before he stepped closer to her and tilted her head upwards so he could press his lips for the last time to hers. It was nearly as passionate as the first, and from where Natasha was standing it actually made her knees go weak. They discarded their clothing in a matter of minutes, time suddenly everything, as though he had a meeting to get to or there was a dinner rush expected in an hour that Natasha would have to help Matthew with. He laid her down slowly on the dress she'd shed just moments ago, protecting her from the majority of the cold while his knees took the brunt of the hard surface beneath them. If it bothered either one of them neither said a word; what was a moment's discomfort in comparison to the last time they'd get to do this? Arguing or not, neither could deny that things were at their best when they were having sex.

He stuck two fingers slowly in his mouth, wetting them, before pressing them deep into her, doing his best to stretch her out immediately to prepare her for him. She moaned quietly, body arching into his, goosebumps rising on her flesh as her fingers dug into the hard, cold ground beneath her. She couldn't deny that she'd missed this, especially when he pushed into her, hard and slick from the saliva he'd made sure to coat himself with beforehand. He groaned her name through his thin lips, eyes closed for a moment. They snapped open when Nat pulled at his hair, smiling when he looked surprisedly at her.

"Hey, look at me this time. I'm here" she murmured. "You said you wanted me. Here I am."

He groaned and pushed harder into her, his fingers biting into her hips where he held at her. The sudden change in pace, shifting from careful to needy, aggressive, and intense was familiar. It didn't take her very long to finish, her throat raw from shouting. Loki didn't last much longer than that, his mouth latching onto her collar bone to leave a purpling bruise.

He stood slowly after, collecting his clothing quietly, before waiting for her to do the same. By the time the hour was done they'd taken opposite sides of the cell, sharing only a quick look between them saying what no words could say, thanking one another for what they'd done and saying goodbye. It was the last chance they'd get.

The next day dawned gloomy, overcast with clouds covering the sun. Natasha was dressed in a plain brown shift as she was led up onto the stage. A large crowd had gathered in front of them, Alexei among them. His eyes were bright as he watched her being led up to the platform. She didn't look at him, swallowing hard as she watched the others instead. None of them seemed to be saying a word; she'd anticipated to be called whore and slut time and time again as they had when she'd been escorted down but now?

Well, there was something to be said about changing one's mind.

Steve was in the crowd as well, though his eyes were sad when Natasha met his. She tried for the smallest of smiles, certain it came out as a grimace. She couldn't help it, though, and he seemed to understand. He nodded his head slowly, almost as if he were bowing to her, and when he brought his eyes back up she saw there were tears in them. Her heart clenched. Her poor friend, what had she done to him?

Thor was nowhere near him, though Natasha was certain he wasn't dealing with condemning his own brother to death. She couldn't blame him for his absence. The poor man had been through so much as it was, his brother having caused him too much pain as it was.

The executioner was silent beneath his hood as he slipped the rope gently around her neck and tightened it, the harsh rope scratching the mark on her collarbone before it was tightened, a reminder why she was there in the first place. From the side she could see Loki looking out, the bars of his cell just at the right position to watch the whole thing. She wondered if it had been on purpose, it was too perfect. His eyes bled into hers, terrified for the first time she'd ever seen, but she simply nodded curtly and shut her eyes. It was time.

The rope tightened and she felt the floor go out from under her a moment later.

Nine months after his death it was Loki who had the last laugh, however, his son surviving his father. Sigyn's second marriage was ruined by impropriety after she'd claimed her first marriage had never been consummated, yet when her stomach was swollen with child before she'd even laid with her newest husband the lie was impossible to maintain. Payback was a bitch, after all.

A/N:

This is it, the end. Thank you all so, so much for all your support and I am thrilled that you enjoyed it as much as I loved writing it! I hope I don't kill you with the feels, and again you are all amazing for all your feedback.

EDIT: alright, I fixed the ending; hopefully it's more understandable now? I apologize for before!