Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

He’d died, Peter was sure of it. He just wasn’t sure how.

His memories of the past few weeks were hazy and he had a sneaking suspicion everyone’s were, but any time he tried to bring it up they just brushed him off. All he knew was he’d woken up in his bedroom and being told he’d suffered some sort of illness so he had to take a few weeks off school. Of course he’d immediately called Mr Stark to find out what the heck was going on, but that hadn’t gone too well.

“Please, kid,” Mr Stark had said, his voice sounding far wearier than ever before. “Don’t dig too deep into this one. We were fighting and you got hurt. You’re okay now. That’s all that matters.”

“We were fighting? Who? Why? Where? Was I any help? Did I look cool?”

 Mr Stark chuckled but his voice was so strained it might have been a sob. “Yeah. You were awesome.”

He’d refused to divulge any more and had soon hung up, but Peter couldn’t lay his mind to rest. There wasn’t just a haze over his memories; there was a chill in his chest that seeped through his entire body whenever he tries to turn his mind back.  Something had happened. Something real bad. Something Mr Stark wanted to hide from him. He had no proof, nothing definite, but he couldn’t shake the feeling he’d died.  

Sometimes he dreamt of turning to dust. When he woke the sensation stayed with him, so real he was sure his body was falling apart even as he held himself until the shaking stopped, tears sliding down his cheeks.  

So he stayed out late, fighting crime, sitting around, watching movies, anything to avoid sleep. Which sucked. He liked sleep as much as your next still-growing-teen, but he wasn’t sure how many more nightmares he could take.

One night the streets were unusually quiet and he was out of pocket money for the cinema so he took to the rooftops to watch the stars. Or try to anyway. There was too much light pollution for anything much to be visible so he ended up just staring at the ceaseless river of headlights below, his head full of nothing. His Spiderman costume didn’t offer much insulation but the night wasn’t too cold and the occasional shivers kept him awake. Only once he felt his head start to nod and eyelids droop did he stretch and get to his feet. His apartment wasn’t too far and he was just about to shoot his first web when something triggered his Spidey-sense.

He spun on the spot, but there was nothing there. Nothing on the sides of the building either, or on the ground. “Calm down,” he whispered to himself, but the prickly sensation of alarm wouldn’t quiet. He tilted his head back to take a deep breath and then he saw it. The electric green light in the sky. Oh, so that’s what he’d sensed. He’d have to remember to check up sooner in future. He’d make a memo once he’d figured out what the heck it was and if it was likely to kill him.

The light grew larger and the hairs on the back of Peter’s neck stiffened. He stood and watched, his breath hitching faster as the light split into several smaller lights, each with a growing tail. Oh hell, that wasn’t just a light. That was stuff falling. And one was headed right for him.

Peter leapt from the roof onto the side of the building and made some quick mental calculations, firing his webbing as soon as he had the answers. Judging from the speed and the angle of trajectory, he needed to aim there, and there, and… there. Got it. His giant web stretched out between the buildings was complete just in time to catch whatever was plummeting from the sky.

Slowly, Peter peered over the edge to try and work out exactly what it was.

It looked like – it was a boy, sprawled on his back in the middle of the sagging web, only a little older than Peter himself. As the green glow surrounding him faded, Peter could pick out more details, like the long black hair crowned with a pointed golden circlet.

“Hello?” he called, his voice far less certain than he’d like. “Are you okay?” Stupid question. The kid had just fallen from space. He tried again. “Can you hear me?”

The boy didn’t move. Peter couldn’t sense if he was breathing or not, but he wasn’t dumb enough to rush right in. Normal, harmless people didn’t fall from the sky.

Then he caught the tang of metallic blood in the air and decided he could at least check if the boy was alive. Whether he was friend or foe, that would be the proper hero thing to do.

“I’m coming down, okay? Just a sec.” Peter crawled over the web to the boy’s side and knelt by his head. A trickle of blood ran down the boy’s temple and his eyes were closed, but now he was closer Peter could hear his shallow breathing. “Oh man, why don’t I carry band-aids or something?” Peter muttered, hands hovering uselessly.

The boy looked human enough, just like a regular teenager, albeit an unusually beautiful one, but his clothes looked more like a comicon costume, a mixture of green and black leather held with silver studs and a fur ruff. A hero’s costume perhaps? But Peter knew about all the heroes, or so he thought, and none looked anything like this. “What am I gonna do?”

As he spoke, the boy’s eyes fluttered open to reveal a startling green. He groaned and looked around, shrinking back as he saw Peter. “This isn’t Asgard,” he said goggily. His voice was deeper than expected and rich with ancient tone’s Peter couldn’t place. “Where am I?”

“You’re from Asgard?” Peter couldn’t help the grin spreading across his face. It was alright after all. Asgard were the good guys. Then something much more important struck him. “Oh my god, do you know Thor?”

The boy groaned and rolled his eyes, then winced and bought a hand to his head. “I just get here and already you people are…” He trailed off and slumped back, out cold once more. It was okay though. He was a friend, probably. Peter picked him up as carefully as he could and stuck him tight into a piggyback position with his webbing. Looked like he’d be walking home tonight.

Chapter Text

Loki jolted awake, the fear of falling pounding in his veins. Just a dream, he told himself, but it had felt so real. He laid a hand on the bed beneath him. Solid enough. But not my bed. That was worrying. And his hand felt… wrong. Too smooth.

He sat up and kicked off the grey patterned blanket that covered the narrow bunk. At first glance, the small proportions and grey walls put him in mind of a cell, but this was evidently more than that. Strange artwork hung on the walls and a desk overflowing with scraps and folders was shoved up against a wall. This was a someone’s bedroom. Nobody he knew though, which begged the question what in the nine realms was he doing in it? He had no memory of this place or how he might have gotten here. He wasn’t even sure what the last thing he could remember was. That was certainly worrying.

An uncomfortable realisation crept up on him. He wasn’t alone. Someone was softly breathing in the bunk above him. Asleep still from the sound of it, but with no guarantee they would remain that way. He would have to take the initiative.

Silently, Loki got to his feet and peered into the top bunk, but found he had to tiptoe to get a proper look. A gawky boy lay sprawled on a mattress under a thin blanket, surrounded by books and boxes. He didn’t look dangerous, but then again, neither did Loki. Only a fool would underestimate an opponent based on looks alone.

Craning his neck to look upwards was undignified and uncomfortable. The best thing to do would be to haul the boy onto the floor, but as soon as Loki reached for his neck the boy stiffened and opened his eyes. “Oh great, you’re awake!” he said and Loki skipped back as he leapt down from the bunk. Despite his clumsy technique he landed uncannily silently. “I wasn’t sure if you’d wake up today after all that, you know?”

With a practised flick of his wrists, Loki drew both his daggers and dropped into a fighting stance. Terror flooded the kid’s eyes and he backed up, holding out his hands. “Woah, woah there! Hang on a minute, you don’t-“

“Who are-“ Loki said, but cut himself off in surprise. His voice wasn’t – something was – but – didn’t he always sound like that? Everything felt so strange today. Did he drug me? Or is this some disorientating spell? Either way, he couldn’t show weakness. “Who are you?” he repeated, his voice firmer this time. “And be warned, boy, I can tell when you’re lying.”

The fear on the boy’s face was momentarily replaced with indignation. “’Boy?’ I’m the same age as you! Well, kinda. I mean, you’re Asgardian, right? So you live longer but you look like-“

His rambling trailed off and a new type of dread overcame him as a woman’s voice drifted through the walls. “Peter? Everything okay?”

“Oh geez,” he muttered, eyeing the door before gesturing for Loki to get back. “C’mon, you’ve gotta hide, I can’t let her see you.”

Loki blinked. “Excuse me, I’m in the middle of threatening you. You can’t just tell me to hide.”

The boy – Peter the woman had said – shook his head. “No, no, please man, you can do that after. Just put the knives away for a minute and get out of sight.” He turned on the spot and ran a hand through his mousy brown hair, throwing it into disarray. “Oh man, there’s nowhere to-“

A sharp knock at the door. “Peter? I’m coming in.”

Peter shot Loki a desperate look and Loki sighed as he sheathed his knives. “Let her in. It’ll be fine.”

With obvious apprehension, Peter opened the door and a young woman walked in. Her face wasn’t dissimilar to Peter’s – a mother or an aunt perhaps. “Are you okay Peter?” she asked. “I thought I heard you shout?”

“Ah, yeah,” Peter said. His eyes darted back to Loki every few seconds but Loki merely raised an eyebrow. Mortals were fun to confuse. “I thought I saw uh, a really big spider. But it wasn’t.”

The woman smiled and ruffled his hair. “Aren’t you a bit old to be scared of spiders?”

“I’m not, it just surprised me,” Peter grumbled. Loki couldn’t help smirking and earnt himself a glare.

“Whatever you say.” With a laugh, the woman removed her hand and turned back to the door. “I’m heading out to work now and I won’t be back ‘til late. There’s pizza in the fridge.”

“Cool, thanks, Aunt May. I’ll see you later then.” Peter didn’t move until there came the noise of another door shutting and then he sighed in relief. That wasn’t an emotion Loki wanted anyone to feel when he was only just getting started with the questioning.

“Well that seemed to answer who you are,” Loki said and drew his knives once more, grinning as Peter jumped. “Why don’t we move onto what you want with me?”

That should have worked. He’d always been better at getting answers than Thor. That oaf tended to just swing around his fancy hammer and roar a lot, but Loki had learnt that the right words with the right smile at the right time could open all the right doors with a lot less effort. For some reason, though, Peter seemed immune.

“How come she didn’t see you?” Peter asked. His eyes held a gleam Loki was surprised to recognise – the look of someone with a good puzzle to solve. “Was it magic?” He opened his mouth into a wide grin. “Oh my god, are you magic? I guess all the green glowing might have been a hint but that maybe could have been from someone else. Was that you too?”

Were all mortals this energetic? “I’m only as ‘magic’ as any Asgardian is,” Loki replied disdainfully.

“But making her not see you?”

Loki looked down at his hands and adjusted his grip on the weapons. “A minor glamour. A child could manage it.” He braced himself for the usual mockery that followed a demonstration of his skills, but none came.

Instead, Peter grinned. “That’s wicked. What else can you do?”

“Enough.” Loki shoved Peter against the wall and held a dagger to his throat. “I’m asking the questions here. You did well to capture and disorientate me I’ll admit, but that’s as far as your success goes.”

There had to be something wrong with this boy because even now his expression was more indignation than fear. “Well, that’s a nice way to treat someone who saved your life, geez.”

That gave Loki pause. “Saved my life?”

“Yeah. I was just chilling when suddenly there was this big green light and you fell from space at, like, a million miles an hour or something, so I caught you. You said something about Asgard and passed out again, so I took you home and patched you up because I figured you were one of the good guys. Except now you’re pointing knives at me, which really isn’t very nice.” As he talked, Peter bought one hand to Loki’s wrist and closed his fist around it. “I’m not saying I need thanks or anything because, you know, that’s not what heroes do it for, but a little less of this would be nice.” As easily as opening a door, Peter pulled Loki’s arm off him and stepped away from the wall. Loki had always considered himself an expert in intimidating stares, but the intensity of this boy’s brown eyes as he talked so casually, and demonstrated such unnatural strength, had him trapped. “So put your knives away and I’ll do my best to answer your questions if you answer mine because honestly man, I’m as confused as you are.”

Loki looked down at his arm and back to the scrawny boy stood before him. “You shouldn’t have been able to do that.”

“I can do lots of things I shouldn’t be able to,” Peter replied with a hint of pride.

“I suppose we have that in common then.” Loki flicked away his knives and held up his empty hands. “Look, no knives. Shall we talk?”

“In a minute. Can we have breakfast first? I’m starving.”

After five slices of toast, Peter seemed ready to talk. He smiled from across the kitchen table. “Okay, we got off to a bad start, but don’t worry about it. Waking up in a new place is bound to be scary. I’d be scared too.”

I wasn’t scared, Loki thought, but antagonising his host further didn’t seem wise so he made a non-committal kind of noise.

“Maybe we should start over. I’m Peter.”

“Loki Odinson. Pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“Oh, we’re doing made up names? Then I’m Spiderman.”

Whatever is he on about now? As any attempts at explanation would undoubtedly lead to a long, meandering and ultimately nonsensical answer, Loki decided to move swiftly on. “Very well, Spiderling. What is this place?”

“This is my apartment.” Peter ran a hand through his hair as looked about the cramped kitchen. “We’re in Queens, which is in New York, which is in America, which is on Earth. Uh, do you know where Earth is?”

“Yes, I’m aware of Midgard. I visited a few times as a boy.”

Peter frowned, his forehead furrowing in funny little lines Loki had already come to expect whenever he became confused. “How old are you? Like, in human years?”

Fifteen centuries, Loki wanted to reply but then shook his head. Whatever spell had sent him here was still confusing him. He hadn’t even had his millennium yet. “In human terms, I’m about seventeen I believe, though it’s a while since I studied your people.”

“Oh man that’s rough,” Peter said sympathetically, which wasn’t the expected response. “You’re like my age and you just fall onto another planet? I’d totally freak out if that happened to me.”

Loki took another sip of the hot tea Peter had made him. It was sweeter than that of Asgard but similarly calming. He hadn’t been able to stomach much food. “These things happen.” Though not often, if he was truthful.

“What happened though? Did you fall off your spaceship? Or like, the rainbow thing Thor uses to go places?”

“The Bifrost? No, I don’t think so.” Loki frowned and stared into his mug. It was like a shroud had been laid over his memories and his body was out of sync with his mind. He’d bumped his legs on the table trying to sit like they weren’t quite where he thought they were going to be. Something was definitely wrong. “I’m not sure why I’m here.”

Peter rested his head on his hand and leant onto the table as he thought. “Can you send a signal home or something? Ask them for help? Like magic 911?” Whatever that is. When Loki shook his head Peter continued. “Maybe the Avengers know how to contact Thor and he can take you home. I should call Mr Stark.”

There was something familiar in that name. Loki’s heart hammered loud in his ears. “Mr Stark?”

“Yeah, he should know about this anyway.” Peter must have seen the discomfort on Loki’s face and smiled reassuringly. “Don’t worry, he’s a hero too. He’s Iron Man.”

The memory of a sudden sharp pain in the back of his head hit Loki and he winced. He may not know who this man was but if merely the name increased his heart rate this much, Loki knew he didn’t want to meet him. He leant over the table and grabbed Peter’s arm as he reached for his phone. “No, you can’t. Please. That man, he’s dangerous.”

“What? But Mr Stark will help, don’t worry. He always knows what to do.” Peter’s ardent admiration, the eternal optimism and faith in his hero – it was painful to see. I was like that, a long time ago. “I’m calling him.”

Think about the situation logically. I’m alone on an alien planet populated by mortals who were still in mud huts last time I visited. Running off to avoid some unknown man on a hunch was hardly a smart plan. Although…

“In which case, thanks for the tea but I’m off.” Loki winced as he stood, the mild headache that had been building sending a sharp pain through his temple, but it was better than waiting to find out why his stomach had clenched when he heard that name.

“No, wait!” Peter hurried up to him but Loki brushed him off, continuing towards the door. “If you go you’ll be all by yourself. And there are bad guys out there, you know. What if you get hurt? More hurt, I mean, you already had a cut to the head when you landed.”

That explained the stinging and feeling of dried blood at least. Loki paused with a hand on the doorknob and looked Peter in the eyes. “Then it’ll be your fault.” Then he looked away, slowly opened the door and stepped out. Five, four, three, two, one…

“Wait!” Peter dodged around him and blocked his path, arms out. “Stay. I’ll help you.”

Loki pretended to consider. “Alone?”

This was clearly asking a lot of the boy. This man of iron must be some sort of mentor to him. If only I could remember who he is. Nevertheless, Peter was clearly the heroic-wannabe type and couldn’t let the opportunity to save someone slip by. “Fine. I won’t call Mr Stark. Unless something really dangerous happens.

Loki’s shoulders sagged with genuine relief. The bluff had worked. He hadn’t much fancied making it totally alone on this primitive planet.  “Thank you,” he said, smiling as he followed Peter back inside.

“No worries,” Peter replied modestly. Loki didn’t miss the pleased little smile on his face. “If you’re staying here a while do you want to have a bath or a shower or something? I’m not saying you stink, just you’ve got something – I think it’s dried blood? – everywhere? And your hair looks like it hasn’t had a wash for a while either.”

Hells, when was the last time he had bathed? Loki looked down at his dirt-encrusted nails. It felt like forever ago. “I’m afraid I don’t know what a ‘shower’ is, but a bath would be heavenly, thank you.”

To his confusion, Peter laughed. “You speak so funny. Like, old but not? It’s cool. Anyway, I’ll run that bath then, probably best I do it because the taps are a bit dodgy. Wait here a minute.” He jogged off, leaving Loki wondering if he’d been complimented or insulted. It wasn’t often someone confused him like that.

In the bathroom, Loki carefully folded his long coat before stripping off the green jerkin and slightly too tight leather trousers he wore specifically because Thor had mocked them. Stubbornness was a powerful motivator. Once free, he stood naked in front of the bathroom’s mirror and stared at his reflection. Again, the sensation of something being off niggled at him. As he ran his eyes over his torso, he realised what it was. It was the scars that looked wrong. He’d always had scars, from both childhood scraps  and real battles, but these ones didn’t look right. There weren’t enough. They were the wrong sort. He tilted his head up to examine his neck. It was virtually unblemished. He hardly needed to shave yet so there weren’t little razor nicks like Thor had had when he’d started. I shouldn’t look like this. With difficulty, he tore his eyes from his image and lowered himself into the water filling the narrow bath. It was almost too hot to bear. Bliss.

Soon the water was murky with all the dust and dirt and dried blood, but even with his body rubbed red he couldn’t feel properly clean. He stopped and stared at his hand, hyper-focusing until he could see the tendrils of sorcery woven into his skin. No wonder he didn’t feel right. Magic wasn’t something you could just scrub out with soap. If he wanted to be rid of it, first he would have to understand it.

An hour later the water was stone cold but Loki barely noticed as he finally emerged with some inkling of the spell. Ignoring the short-sleeved shirt and strange blue trousers Peter had left him, he put his usual clothes back on and joined Peter in the main room of his home.

Peter looked up from some primitive computer and smiled. “Feeling better? Oh, you’ve got that on again. Don’t blame you, if I had a cool coat like that I’d never take it off.”

“You think this is cool?” Loki asked with amusement. “My brother said it made me look like a witch.”

“So? Witches are cool.” Peter grinned. “I love the weird fluffy bit. Is it soft?”

Loki ran a thoughtful hand down the fur collar. “This? Very. I added it specifically to annoy my father. He said it made me look effeminate.”

“Do your family ever mind their business?”

“No, not really.” With a laugh, Loki dropped onto the sofa next to him and looked over his shoulder. “What have you got there?”

“I’ve been trying to find out what happened to you,” Peter said and nodded at the screen, but Loki couldn’t make much sense of the jumble of words and pictures. “You’d think people would notice a big green light like that, but I can’t find anything on it anywhere. Kinda seems like I’m the only one who saw you. Guess it’s lucky I did, huh?”

Loki thought about the spell he’d started to unravel. Luck was one word for it. “I’ve been doing some research of my own. The magic that sent me here – it’s powerful. And far more complex than anything I can do yet. I’d have to study for centuries to be able to recreate it, or just undo it with a flick of my wrist.”

“Any idea who could have done it?”

“My mother perhaps has the skill, but it doesn’t feel like her work.” It was strange enough he’d been here this long with no word from home. Don’t think about it. “If I had the full spell I might have a clearer idea of what happened and how to get back home, but it seems only a fragment has clung to me. The only good news is it doesn’t appear to be malicious.” Which made the whole thing all the more curious. “I can sense a homing spell, and some sort of protection, and a powerful life force, but that might of course just be interference from you.”

Peter blinked in surprise. “From me?”

“You must be aware you’re no ordinary mortal. You’re far too strong for one.”

“That’s not half of it,” Peter muttered, that strange hint of pride again entering his tone. “Well, when you fell the light turned into lots of little bits. If we head back to where I caught you I can probably figure out where they went. Then you can do your shazam thing and figure out what happened.”

“Shazam?” Loki repeated, struggling to keep the amusement from his voice. “Is that supposed to be the sound of my magic?”

With a shrug, Peter looked away and busied himself closing his computer. “I dunno, I never saw magic until you today. How I am supposed to know what it sounds like?”

“It usually makes very little noise at all, unless I want it to,” Loki replied. His explanation should have stopped there, but something compelled him to go further. “It’s usually just like this. Watch.” He held out a hand and conjured a couple of pale green butterflies that took to the air around them.

Peter laughed and stretched up a hand, his face shining with childish excitement. “Oh, that’s the ringing noise I heard earlier, it must have been from your illusion before.”

Loki frowned and vanished the butterflies with a wave of his hand. “You heard my glamour?” No mortal should be able to do that. He couldn’t even do that.

“That’s so cool, wow,” Peter gushed. “You must be amazing at magic.”

“A minor illusion. Child’s play,” Loki said dismissively and stood. “Shall we be off then?”

As Peter gathered his bag and led them out the door, Loki couldn’t help looking down at his hands with a smile. To receive admiration for his sorcery was a not entirely unpleasant change. Even if it was only from a mere mortal.

Chapter Text

The building where he’d caught Loki was only a twenty-minute walk away, and Peter thought the short walk through a quieter neighbourhood would be a good way to get the Asgardian acclimatised to the crazy city of New York.

“This might all seem like a lot to you,” Peter said as they made their way down the sidewalk. Loki maintained a look of mild disinterest in his surroundings, but that didn’t mean he didn’t need any help. “But don’t worry, I can tell you about everything.” He looked around, wondering where to start, when a passing car caught his eye. That’s perfect. “Those things in the road, they’re called cars. They’re kind of like mechanical horses but faster? Have you seen them before?”

“My people had moved on from the combustion engine before I was even born,” Loki replied, grimacing as another car shot by and the exhaust fumes hit them. “They’re dirty, inefficient and generally unpleasant.”

“Oh. Right.” Peter’s enthusiasm dampened for a moment, before springing back. “What do you use as engines instead then? Something like the Arc Reactor? But how would you collect enough – no, sorry, I don’t want to overload you or anything. It’s probably really confusing seeing all this new stuff, right?”

The corner of Loki’s mouth quirked. “Not really. I’ve accompanied my father to other realms before and even novelty can become mundane. People are generally alike when you get down to it.”

“Huh.” An image flashed through Peter’s mind - the Earth shrinking beneath him, an orange world opening up before him – and then they were gone. “Maybe that’s how you got here? You wandered off when your family came to visit and they’re just not expecting you back yet?”

Although the day was mild, Loki pulled his coat tighter around his narrow shoulders. “Maybe.”

“We’ll get you home,” Peter promised. “Look, we’re almost here. Once we find those other green lights I’m sure things will make more sense.”

Within a few minutes they were stood outside the building, the webs still stretched over the alleyway. “That’s where I caught you,” he said, pointing.

Loki followed his finger and recoiled when he took in the giant web. “You made that? So you truly are a Spiderling.”

The street was mostly empty, but Peter still lowered his voice. “I don’t actually make that stuff; I just developed the formula and web shooters. Anyway, wait here for a few minutes. I’ll go up and see if I can work out where the lights were heading.”

After a quick change in an alleyway, Peter scaled the building and stood on the rooftop, taking in the panoramic view. There had been… five lights, maybe? Including the one that had been Loki. They’d all split off into different directions, but Peter couldn’t remember where they’d gone. Times like these Karen would have come in useful, but she hadn’t been active for weeks. Mr Stark had said she needed some ‘essential maintenance’ and would be back soon with all new features, but Peter had never known it to take so long before.

Cursing his insufficient memory, he slid down the drainpipe to the ground and changed back into his normal clothes. Loki had wanted to keep his presence quiet and any sightings of Spiderman with a weirdly dressed boy would definitely interest Mr Stark.

He found Loki leaning against a wall, examining his black nail polish. “I’m sorry, I can’t work out where the lights were heading. It’s so stupid – I know I saw them but –“

Loki looked up. “That might be enough. Come here.”

Peter moved before he could even think and Loki reached out for his temples, pulling their foreheads together. With a start, Peter tried to pull away but Loki held him tight. “What are you-“

“Relax,” Loki ordered, and the memory of last night filled Peter’s mind as clearly as if he was there, clearer even – like the footage had been shot with a 4K camera and then enhanced with every trick in the book. The five lights grew brighter and larger as they fell and then the view shifted to follow one as it split off, marking its progress before swinging around to see Loki’s plummeting body. The memory happened in real time, yet the clarity of details seemed to slow time and Peter could see every droplet of webbing and each hair on Loki’s head and individual threads of his costume all at once. Just like when his senses had first enhanced, it was utterly overwhelming. He scrunched up his face and shoved Loki away before he could collapse.

“What was that?” he asked, chest heaving. Now the world around him looked dull and out of focus, insubstantial. “What did you do?”

Loki rubbed his arm where Peter had pushed him and gave an indignant look. “People have better memories than they think. You just needed a little prod to access it and share it with me. Of course, you can only see what you saw the first time, but if you check now you should have a clear enough recollection to work out where that light you watched fell.”

Cautiously, Peter closed his eyes and realised Loki was right. His memory was still painfully sharp, but no longer so overpowering. He opened his eyes. “Red Hook. That’s where it went. That’s where the docks and stuff are.”

“I see. Do you know the way?”

“Yeah, but, look.” Peter squared his shoulders and tried to sound authoritative. “You can’t do stuff like that.”

“Stuff like what?”

“Stuff like that mind magic you just pulled. Not without asking first.”

Loki’s eyebrows knitted closer in genuine confusion. “But now we know where to go.”

His refusal to get it just stoked Peter’s fire and he clenched his fists. “Yeah, but people’s minds are private. If you want me to help you, you can’t just bust in whenever you want. That’s not how we do it on Earth. I don’t even know what ‘sharing memories’ means.”

“It means I experienced the event as you did, through your senses and thoughts.” Loki’s eyes shifted from Peter’s face, to his hands, and then the ground, his shoulders sagging. “I didn’t realise you’d be so distressed. And I see now how skilfully you saved my life. I won’t use my magic on you without your consent again.”

Peter waited, but that seemed to be the closest to an apology he would get. “Alright,” he said. “It’s okay. You’re still getting used to things here.”

“Of course, many spells won’t work without consent anyway.”

So it wasn’t much of a concession on Loki’s side after all. Peter sighed and then a thought struck him. “Wait, when you say in sharing my memories you shared my thoughts…”

“Only those you had at the time,” Loki assured him, and then gave a wickedly sharp-toothed grin. “You really think I’m ‘beautiful?’”

Peter’s cheeks heated and he turned his back. “Come on. It’s this way.” He did his best to ignore Loki’s silvery laugh, but it had a brightness you couldn’t block out.

“So yeah, must have landed somewhere around here,” Peter said, looking up and down the street. Here and there old cobbles still poked through the road, but they were mostly covered with patches of newer tarmac, in patches like they hadn’t been able to afford much at once. Old warehouses and factories squatted either side, the few surviving windows watching like dead eyes. Nobody was in sight. “I can’t sense anything ‘magical’ though, can you?” Not that he knew what he was looking for.

Loki spread out his hands and frowned. “I’m not sure. There’s a lot of interference – pollution, electricity, and that’s just the human matter. I can sense other strange energies too. Has the city encountered other beings from the nine realms recently?”

“I don’t really know about that,” Peter said. “But there was the Battle of New York when I was a kid and all these aliens attacked. Like, Chitauri I think they called them? But the Avengers beat them. Thor was there too. They’re all gone now, but some of their tech is still kicking around, I had some trouble with it actually. Uh, are you alright?”

What little colour Loki’s face possessed had drained away and he stared intently at the famed skyline with a distant expression. “The Chitauri were here? That sounds… somewhat familiar.”

“Maybe you heard about it on the Asgard news?” Peter suggested doubtfully. Loki didn’t look like someone remembering a news bulletin. He looked scared. “Thor did a lot of fighting after all.”

“Yes, maybe.” With a deep breath, Loki tore his gaze from the city and settled on Peter instead. “If I knew exactly what I was looking for I might have a better chance of narrowing in, but there’s simply too much going on. If I try to look at your magic for instance –“ Loki winced, and squeezed his eyes shut. “-yep, pretty much like looking right at a star.”

“Oh, sorry,” Peter replied automatically. “I didn’t mean to confuse things.”

“Funny little Spiderling,” Loki said, mocking but not totally unkind. “Why should you apologise for power? It is a part of you, and to be ashamed of it is to be ashamed of your very being.” The words had a ring of a mantra, maybe something someone had said to him.

Peter laughed. “You say that like I’m not embarrassed by like, eighty-five per cent of what I say already. Anyway, we can’t search everywhere around here, it would take forever. Maybe we should try find out if any weird stuff’s been happening? You can’t just get a big blob of magic out the sky without some effects, right?”

“Good idea. Are there any taverns about?”

“Probably not. But there’s a diner up there. We can go get a drink or something if you’re thirsty?”

“Perfect, we can begin our investigations there,” Loki replied, already striding towards it.

Peter had to scurry to keep up with his longer legs. “Oh yeah, good thinking! I bet there’ll be locals in there who might have seen something. We’ll need a cover though, or they’ll be wondering why two kids are asking weird questions.” He frowned as he thought. “Your clothes might be a bit hard to explain away but we could say it was just a costume or something? Yeah, okay, we’re on our way to a play, which you’re in obviously, and I’m like, the lighting guy, and we’re asking questions because… because we need some research, for realism! Yeah, and our grade totally depends on finding out if any weird stuff has happened, so then they’ll have to tell us.” Peter darted in front of Loki just before he opened the diner door. “Did you get all that?”

“Entirely,” Loki assured him, before pushing open the door and cheerfully greeting the young waitress behind the counter. “Two of whatever drinks you usually do,” he added, hopping onto a stool. “And if there have been any strange going-ons lately then please, tell me all about them.”

Peter scrambled up onto the stool next to him and leant across. “Loki! That wasn’t the plan at all!”

Loki merely raised an amused eyebrow and gratefully accepted his mug of black coffee from the waitress. “Looks lovely, thank you,” he said.

“It’s not,” the waitress replied. She was a year or two older than them, with tightly curled dark hair and teasing set to her smile. “But the dockworkers and that don’t mind.”

After a preliminary sniff, Loki took a sip and winced. “I see what you mean,” he said. “That’s not lovely at all.” He took another sip.

“Could I get some milk for mine?” Peter asked.

The waitress threw him a dirty look, before grabbing him some off the side and returning to stand in front of Loki. “So, you want to know what’s up?”

“Please.”

“Well, there was this super weird guy who came in here, dressed like an absolute dork in leather and looked like he hadn’t had a haircut for years.” She smiled as Loki tucked a long strand of dark hair behind one ear. “He was kind of cute though. Wanted to know about strange stuff going on and I figured I might tell him if he gave me his number.”

Peter took a long draught of his coffee as he waited to see how Loki would respond, and then he realised Loki actually didn’t know how to respond. Asgard might have outgrown cars, but the mobile telephone apparently never made it even that far.

“He just got a new phone, he doesn’t know his number off by heart yet,” he said. “Here, I can copy it from mine.” He pulled out a pen and phone, but scribbled down a memorised number rather than any of his contacts. It was something he’d stowed away in case MJ ever needed it, a way to politely turn down people once you were out of the way. Any texts or calls the waitress sent would be met with a polite message informing her of Loki’s lack of interest. “Here.”

“Got your wingman well trained,” the waitress said as she tucked the napkin into her pocket. “Maybe I’ll text later if I’m bored.”

Loki, clearly recovered from his brief confusion, smiled. “I’ll look forward to it. Now, about those happenings?”

“Not much really, I don’t know why you’d be interested. But some of the guys in here were talking about a weird green light in one of the empty warehouses, and creepy laughter, like little kids running about at night?” She ran her hands down her bare arms in a shiver. “Sounds like a horror movie, right?”

“Which warehouse?”

“Uh, number four down the way I think they said. Why are you asking anyway?”

Before she’d even finished speaking Loki leapt from his stool and dashed towards the door. “It’s for a play,” he called over his shoulder and Peter grinned. So his cover story hadn’t gone to waste after all.

“I’m doing the lighting,” Peter added, throwing just enough change onto the counter to cover the drinks and running after him. “Thanks for the coffee!” The two mugs remained on the counter, one drained, one hardly touched.

He caught up with Loki outside warehouse four, stood in front of the chain mesh fence. A rusty padlock held the gates. Beyond, the hulking red brick building cast long shadows across the weed-ridden yard. “Can you sense anything in there?”

“I’m not sure,” Loki said, curling his fingers around the chain links as he peered through. “It definitely has an atmosphere.”

“A magically spooky atmosphere, or just a normally spooky atmosphere?”

“I imagine we’ll find out once we’re inside.”

Crossing the fence was easy. After a quick check to make sure nobody was in sight, Peter gave Loki a boost before leaping over himself. Loki gave him a strange look but didn’t say anything.

Peter pointed. “Look, there’s a window round the side with the glass missing. We can go in there. I can’t hear anything inside, but we should still be careful. The green light could be another person like you.”

Inside, the sounds of the city faded away, muffled by the thick walls. A leaky drainpipe dripped somewhere, the faint plink of water echoing around the cavernous space. Peter wasn’t sure if a normal human would hear it, but it set him on edge. He crept to a nearby pillar, ready to crawl up out the way at the first sign of danger. Though the room was empty, he felt horribly exposed.

Loki had no such reservations. “Hello? Anyone here?” he called, strolling to the middle of the hall. His voice bounced off the walls and away to the corridors leading away. “Hm. Suppose not.”

“Keep it down,” Peter hissed, though if anyone was nearby they surely would have heard him. “We don’t know who’s in here.”

“None of this looks fresh at least.” Loki gestured to the graffiti sprawled across the walls and floor and smirked as he read some aloud. “’Drama is a real subject,’ apparently. Interesting how someone thought that was worth sharing.”

“Now we’re inside can you sense anything?”

“Not if you’re so close, it blocks out most things,” Loki said. “Why don’t we split up? I’ll search one side, you search the other. We’ll cover more ground quickly and I’ll be able to use my magic without being blinded.”

“Alright.” Peter looked down at his hands. He didn’t feel especially magical, but it wasn’t like he really understood how his powers worked. Not even Mr Stark did, even after all those tests. Maybe once the mystery of Loki’s arrival was solved he could help find some answers. “What if one of us runs into trouble?”

“Generally, trouble runs into me,” Loki said airily. He turned on his heel and started out towards the door at the far end.

“That doesn’t even make sense,” Peter called after him, but Loki didn’t respond. Shaking his head, Peter made his way to the other door, and into the dark hallway beyond. Even with enhanced vision, it was hard to see. Karen could have mapped out his surroundings onto a 3D model or a thousand other things to help, but with her gone, he just had to rely on the good old-fashioned flashlight he kept in his backpack.

Regrettably, this wasn’t his first time wandering alone in a creepy building, but it never got less unsettling. Cranked up senses might mean he wasn’t going to get snuck up on, but it wasn’t selective about what was amplified. His own footsteps sounded painfully loud as they echoed up and down the halls, while the rusty screw he accidentally knocked aside rang out like an alarm – Idiot here!

A couple of doors he passed had signs for a basement. He ignored them all. Horror movie logic dictated that was the worst possible place for him to go. Besides, he was searching for something that fell from the sky. He took the stairs upwards instead.

A few flights up his ears caught something and he paused. Footsteps, but not those of someone walking or even running. They were short hard slaps against concrete, like someone light stamping their feet in a large room. Holding up his flashlight like the cops on TV, Peter crept towards the sound.

This floor seemed to have been offices, though whatever the door plates once said had long been scratched off. Peter dragged the beam of light down the row of doors, searching for the one that had been disturbed. They were all untouched for months. Then he flicked the flashlight onto the far end of the corridor. That door was hanging off its hinges. A muffled crash resonated from within. Then, more worryingly, a child’s laugh.

“Please don’t be creepy little psychic kids, please don’t be creepy little psychic kids,” Peter muttered as he approached. That never ended well in the movies. “Hello?” he called out loud. “Is someone there? Are you okay?”

A flicker and the high-pitched ringing he already associated with magic, then a black-haired little boy appeared in front of him. He wore simple grey and green woollen clothes, with a scabbard at his belt.

Peter leapt back, hands spread. “Woah, okay.”

The boy narrowed his eyes, then flickered away again. A moment later, there was another crash from the end office.

“Wait!” Peter ran toward the noise, cursing as he went. He couldn’t tell if the kid was psychic or not, but a ghost still wasn’t good news. “What are you doing here?”

He burst into the end office just in time to see the kid sweep a pile of mildew caked paper off a rusty filing cabinet with a sword. The boy laughed as they fluttered to the ground, and his laughter echoed around the room. No, Peter realised. Not echoes. There’s more of him. The air rang with magic as the boy flickered in and out of existence, so fast Peter could be sure if the many copies of him were there or just illusions. They weren’t identical, not quite. They were all the same person, but not the same age, ranging from about five to maybe eleven. As more filled the room, so did a green glow, the same as Loki had arrived cloaked in, and though they kept giggling, the boys’ eyes started to widen in fear.

“It’s okay, I won’t hurt you. Are you lost?”

All faces turned to him. In an instant, they disappeared and the room fell deathly silent.

Right. This was… weird. There was only one thing to do. Peter turned and ran, heading towards the other side of the building. “Loki!” he yelled. “Loki! Where are you?” He fought bad guys, not dealt with weird magical children. Hopefully, the witch lookalike would know what to do.

“We’ve got to go already?”

Peter stopped short as the boy popped in front of him. Well, one of the boys. This one was on the younger side, around four, though he still carried a weapon. Seriously, who gave four-year-olds a sword? And more importantly, why hadn’t anyone given him a sword?

The boy looked up at him with bright green eyes. There was no fear, just the kind of suspicion young children tended to regard anything that might interfere with their plans with. “You’re not my brother.”

“No, I’m not,” Peter agreed. He crouched down so he was eye level with the boy. “Did you come here with him?”

The question seemed to confuse him. “I’m not sure…” The boy fizzled away and when he rematerialized a few feet away he was smiling. “Let’s play. I’ll be Thor and you be a demon, ‘kay?”

“You like Thor – woah there!” Peter cut off his question and scrambled back as the boy drew his tiny, yet wickedly sharp sword, causing the child to erupt into shrieks of laughter. “You can’t play with that!”

A moment later he was proved wrong as the boy charged at him, waving his miniature weapon. Peter tensed, ready to leap away, but then the boy skipped behind him in with a poof of green light and kept running. He didn’t look back. After a few seconds, he flickered away entirely.

Once he was sure that one wasn’t coming back, Peter set off again, quieter this time. He didn’t want to encounter any more ghost children until he had Loki by himself. They probably had loads of ghosts on Asgard, right? He’d know what to do.

He found Loki searching one of the higher offices, casting a green glow from the palm of his hand. The same green as he’d fallen in. The same green as the ghosts. It threw looming shadows around the dark corners of the room. In the centre, a column of sunlight cut the air, beaming down from a hole in the ceiling. When Peter squinted upward, he saw the hole was matched in the floors above, right up to the open air.

“Loki, come quick, I’ve found all these weird ghost kids and one of them mentioned Thor and-“

“They’re me.”

“They’re what?”

Loki waved a hand around at the debris. “This room has the highest concentration of the magic that bought me to you. The green light must have crash landed here and then… I’m not sure. Diffused, perhaps? And formed those illusions somehow, but I don’t understand why they’re me.”

“Hold up,” Peter said. “What do you mean they’re you?”

“Exactly that. They look just how I did at that age, but more than that, they have the same energy. They are me, from a magical point of view.”

Peter thought back to the children. Now Loki had said it, the resemblance was clear. He’d grown his hair out and lost the baby fat, but the piercing eyes hadn’t changed. “So what do we do? We can’t leave lots of tiny yous running around.”

“If we can gather all the magic back in here, I should be able to contain it at least. We can figure things out from there.”

“Right. So, how are we going to do that? Ask the kids nicely?”

A laugh startled out of Loki. “Heavens no. Nothing would make me less likely to come in here than being told to.”

“I get the feeling not much has changed.” Peter sucked in a breath thoughtfully. “So we’ll have to lure them in. What sort of stuff did you like when you were a kid?”

“I…” Loki trailed off with a frown. “That’s strange.”

“You can’t remember? I mean, you did have a pretty big fall yesterday, you’re probably still all shaken up and stuff.”

“No, it’s not that I can’t remember,” Loki said. He bought both hands to his temples and closed his eyes. “The memories just aren’t there. When I reach, it’s like there’s only empty space. A couple of jagged corners, like they’ve been ripped away.”

Peter nodded and tried to look like he understood what any of that meant. “So you’ve forgotten.”

“That’s never happened before,” Loki said dubiously. “At least, I don’t think so.”

Although Loki kept his voice level, Peter could see the panic rising in his eyes as he stared down at his hands. Peter stepped in and touched Loki’s elbow, just enough to bring back his attention. “Hey, it’s alright,” he said. “We’ll figure it out next. Let’s focus on this right now, yeah?”

Loki nodded. “Alright. I suppose that makes sense.” His eyes drifted down to his elbow and Peter realised his hand was still in place. With more energy than was probably necessary, he jumped back. Who knew how Asgardian’s felt about physical contact?

“One of the mini-yous mentioned your brother,” Peter remembered, glad for the distraction. “Do you think he’s here too?”

“They talked to you? I’m surprised. I thought they were mere echoes, but perhaps they have some form of sentience. Or maybe they can only echo phrases.”

“One of them talked a little. But he couldn’t remember if your brother was here, and then he wanted to play with me instead.” Peter broke into a grin. “And hey, you didn’t tell me you were a Thor fan.” Maybe they could talk about him together once they’d sorted all this out. Of course, Loki must know of him as the Prince of Asgard rather than the coolest Avenger, but he probably knew all kinds of cool stuff the fan sites didn’t. Assuming his interests hadn’t changed since he was four that was, which was actually kind of a stretch. Hmm.

Loki laughed incredulously and Peter’s hopes of a geek-out were crushed. “A what? No, Thor is just… well, never mind. I’d have sensed for sure if my brother was in the city, even with you around. You may be like a star, but he’s a true supernova.”

An image of a golden titan taller than the Empire State Building rose in Peter’s mind. He hoped they’d get Loki home before this supernova brother came looking for him. “Sounds dangerous.”

“You have no idea.” His tone was strange, joking but with a harsher edge. Was he missing his brother? Worried about him? Jealous even? Peter wondered how much of that supernova power Loki had inherited. If power was inherited. Did Asgardians even have genes? Loki may not look like much, but despite his dismissal of his illusions he used his magic with the ease of someone sure in their prowess, and had already proven himself quick with a blade. All this was only in the past few hours as well, who knew what other skills lay beneath the surface. He spoke so confidently of his brother’s power, more warning than boast. He can hurt you. We both can.

Peter blinked and shook off his strange thoughts. He had to stay on task. That had always been a problem with his fast thoughts and later his fast senses – his mind was constantly running but was hard to direct, racing down any available tangent unless he remembered to drag himself back. “So how should we bring the kids here?”

“Your guess is as good as mine, with my childhood sealed away,” Loki said. Despite his light tone, the worry was clear in his voice. This wasn’t normal. He didn’t know what was happening. But he wouldn’t admit to his fear. “Right now I only know things in the most general way. I’ll leave it to you – I need to stay in here and prepare the spell.”

“Right. I got it.” Peter paused, searching for the right words. He wanted to comfort Loki, to let him know they really would figure it all out and he’d get back safe to his family, but he didn’t know how. He barely knew him and besides, it’s not like he actually could promise any of that. All he could do was assure him he wasn’t alone. “Loki-“

Loki didn’t look round from the section of wall he was apparently enchanting. “You’re still here?”

On second thoughts, the cocky so-and-so was probably fine. Spurred by a burst of irritation he couldn’t quite place, Peter set off to find the creepy ghost children.

It didn’t take long. At first it was just flickers out the corners of his eyes – a novel experience now he usually saw everything. Then faint footsteps, and snatches of laughter. “I know you’re there, Loki,” Peter said and this time when he turned to look, the boy didn’t disappear like a mirage.

“I can’t find my brother. Will you play with me?”

Peter repressed a shiver. The little Loki might not be malevolent, but nothing good had ever come of a ghost asking that question in literally the entire history to time.  He tried to smile instead. “Yeah, sure. What do you want to play?”

“Thor always makes me be the monster,” little Loki said. “But I can be him today, and you can be the monster.”

“Uh, Thor? You actually know him?”

Little Loki frowned. “’course I do, you mewling quim.”

“Mewling what now?”

“Dunno. Father says it sometimes. Mother told Thor and me not to say it.” Little Loki stuffed his hands in his pockets and scuffed at the ground, already losing interest. “Are we playing or not?”

“Ah – yeah, we are.” Loki’s brother. He’s a supernova. Loki Odinson. Thor is just… Wasn’t Odin in the old myths? Things were starting to slide into place, but Peter forced himself to focus on the kid in front of him. “Why don’t we get the other yous to play too?”

“Other mes?”

“You can’t see them?”

“Sometimes I make more mes by accident but…” His image started to fuzz at the sides, like the streaming quality had dropped. He’d disappeared last time he’d been confused too, Peter realised. Perhaps holding a form took a lot of the magic’s concentration or something? Was that how magic worked? He had no idea. Why couldn’t it just be straightforward like science?

“Grr! I’m a monster!” Peter yelled, holding up his hands like claws. Little Loki’s face lit up as he sharpened back to reality, his attention drawn again. “Nobody can stop me!”

“I can,” little Loki said with a grin and drew his sword.

Oh, hell. He’d forgotten this child had a sword. It was okay though, maybe it was intangible and –

Peter dodged back as little Loki giggled and swung the blade at him, barely missing the point which tore through his jacket instead. Okay, so it was tangible after all, and definitely dangerous. He jumped back another few feet and put on his best smile. “Catch me if you can.”

He jogged away, checking over his shoulder than the boy could keep up. He could, just about, though his haphazard swings slowed him down. Peter made sure to stay close enough Loki wouldn’t lose interest, but far enough he wasn’t really going to be sliced apart. Do Asgardian kids really play like this?

“Grr!” Peter shouted again as he led little Loki down the corridor. “Can anyone stop the fearsome monster?” More glimmers of green magic filled his periphery as the curious Lokis followed his voice.

Swish. A new blade cut through the air, faster this time. Peter glanced over his shoulder again and saw some of the older copies had joined the game, a group of them laughing and calling after him with the first little one, though none acknowledged the others. They didn’t run properly, sometimes skipping down the hall in quirk bursts. They reminded Peter of Vanelope from Wreck-It Ralph, glitching all over the place. “You’ll have to do better than that,” he said and sped up.

By the time he’d done a lap around the whole building, he was certain he must have everyone. He ran down the corridor to Loki, the real Loki, and burst through the door. “Whatever it is, do it quick,” he panted, jumping up onto a desk. “Those swords are sharp! I’m going to have to sew up my jacket before Aunt May sees it or -”

The horde of Lokis stampeded through the door, their images overlapping and fizzing in and out of existences in the tight space. Peter had just enough time to notice how the real Loki’s jaw dropped at the sight, before he waved his hands and a blinding green light forced his eyes shut.

When he cracked them open, the room was strangely still and quiet after the chaotic children. Loki, his Loki stood alone in the middle of the room, a wobbly orb the size of a basketball floating above one palm. Like all of Loki’s magic it was green, but this was the subdued green of a lazy river rather than the neon lights he was used to by now. Loki watched the undulating surface, utterly transfixed, and when Peter came closer he could just make out images moving inside.

“Cool,” Peter breathed, peering closer. “What is that? Is it the magic?” Now he could see the images better – young Loki, cavernous halls, a blond boy with a gleaming smile. “No way, is that kid Thor? And by the way, why didn’t you tell me that your brother was freaking Thor? That is literally the coolest thing I have ever heard in my entire life.” Peter’s grin faded as he realised Loki still hadn’t taken his eyes off the orb, hadn’t given even the slightest indication he’d heard him. Fatigue, maybe? Capturing that much magic must take a huge amount of energy and energy had to come from somewhere, although he didn’t yet know if that was Loki himself or some other source, he would have to – I’m rambling again, Peter realised, and Loki still hadn’t moved. He waved his fingers in front of his face. “Hey, Loki, you okay?”

Loki started, and drew the strange ball close into him, shielding it from Peter’s view. “I – I honestly don’t know right now.”

“What’s up?”

Maybe the magical energy did come from him, because Loki looked from Peter to the orb and back again as though it took everything he had. “It’s my soul,” he said. “I knew the signal was similar – somethings still missing, that’s why I didn’t recognise it – but I didn’t realise it was the same until I pulled them all together. This globe thing here – it’s my soul. Well, a fragment of it.”

Chapter Text

Back in Peter’s apartment, Loki sat cross-legged on the sofa slowly chewing his way through a slice of ‘pizza.’ When he’d mentioned he’d never seen it before, Peter had launched into an abridged history of the food. Loki didn’t know what ‘Italy’ or ‘pineapple’ was, but it was better than talking about what had happened in the warehouse, so he kept quiet. Even with his soul fragment safely stored in a pocket dimension, he still fancied he could feel its turbulent swirling.

“… and so now there’s this huge debate about whether pineapple should go on pizza or not,” Peter continued, waving his slice for emphasis before taking another bite. He’d barely swallowed before he was speaking again, like the words would burst out of him regardless. “Which is kind of silly if you think about it because does it really matter? But things get so heated and – hey, do you have stuff like than on Asgard? Like, big pointless arguments everyone has a firm stance on? I bet if Thor came down here and said ‘it does belong!’ or ‘it doesn’t!’ everyone would listen to him. Which side do you think he’d be on?”

After a moment Loki realised this wasn’t one of Peter’s many rhetorical questions. He shrugged. He knew he should say something, a witty line that would make the boy laugh and shield himself from probing questions, but right now he couldn’t even pretend to care.

“You know he’ll come for you, right?”

Loki lifted his head just enough to throw Peter a questioning look through his fallen strands of hair.

“Thor, I mean. He’s like, the best Avenger, other than Iron Man obviously. And he’s your brother. He’s probably looking for you right now.”

Hope sparked in Loki’s chest but he crushed it before it could take hold. “If he was looking for me, he would have found me by now. All he’d have to do is ask Heimdall.”

“But why wouldn’t he be?”

The image of the five falling lights rose in Loki’s mind, alongside the murky fragment of his soul. The spell he’d found woven into his being. The way the wrong answer was always on the tip of his tongue. An unpleasant conclusion was starting to make itself clear, one he’d been resisting ever since the warehouse.

“He might not know to look, if he-” Loki took a deep breath to steel himself - “If he thinks I’m dead,” he finished. His voice came out smaller than he’d meant to, almost a question.

Peter reached forward, his hand stopping just short of Loki’s arm, his forehead crinkled with concern. “Hey now, you’ve only been here a day. He wouldn’t just assume you’re dead already.”

“It’s not like that,” Loki said. He laced his fingers in his lap and gripped until his knuckles shone white. It wasn’t just that saying it would make it more real. Peter had shown himself to be a useful ally, one he couldn’t afford to scare off. Saying ‘I think I died,’ was a sure fire way to do that.

“What was that stuff earlier?” Peter asked. “You said it was your soul?”

Dad’s beard I’m foolish, Loki cursed internally. He’d spoken without thinking, for a moment forgetting this was just a mortal(?) boy who couldn’t possibly understand. Some Midgardians even doubted the existence of souls. But maybe that was why he’d spoken. It was easier to share things with someone who didn’t understand.

“Look, I can tell you don’t want to talk about it. I get it, it’s your soul, that’s probably the most private thing there is, right?”

You don’t get it at all.

“But if I’m helping you then we need to be on the same page. You need to tell me what’s going on. Believe me, I might not have been at this that long but when you start hiding stuff from people you should trust, it all goes wrong.”

Trust? He barely knew the boy. It hadn’t even been a day. On Asgard, trust was something forged over years, honed like a sword until you knew in the heat of battle you could rely on the one by your side with your life. It took training and drills and most of all time. Maybe a little more time for him than others. Most were reluctant to put too much faith in the ‘prince of mischief.’

Peter, however…

Peter had taken one look at the stranger from the sky and decided to help. A mumbled mention of the land of someone Peter had never even met was all it took to convince him Loki was a friend. He’d taken him into his home and let him stay there, even after he’d pulled out the daggers and forbidden him to tell his mentor. Even now Peter sat opposite, concerned but wide open, every inch eager to help. All it would take was a flick of the wrist and Loki could kill him. Peter had to know that. But he was trusting Loki anyway. And, as had been drilled into him time and time again, trust had to go both ways.

Besides, the spell had specified he’d be sent somewhere safe.

“Alright,” Loki said. He straightened up to look Peter in the eye. “I’ll do my best to explain. Just don’t be surprised if you can’t keep up. First of all, how much do you know about souls?”

“I saw yours apparently, so I guess they exist?” Peter said. He shrugged. “That’s kind of it though. Do I have a soul?”

“You mortals really are backward, aren’t you? Of course you have one.” Loki ignored Peter’s protests and locked his fingers, stretching out above his head as he considered how to condense decades of lessons into a few minutes. “We’ll go with the simple version then. Your soul is essentially your being. It is all you are, all you have done, all your memories and hopes and dreams. It is ever changing and yet in the middle there is an unchanging core, which is you in your purest form.”

Peter frowned. “That doesn’t sound very scientific.”

“That’s because it’s not. Our sorcery is far beyond what your ‘science’ will reach for millennia.”

That answer didn’t seem to satisfy Peter but he didn’t argue. “So what did you mean about yours being fragmented?”

“First you need to understand that the soul is not the same all the way through. It’s like…” Loki circled with his hands, searching for the words. By the time his mother had taught him this, he was armed with the vocabulary needed. Peter had only just found out souls exist. “This would be easier if I had something to model with that you could touch too.”

“I might have something,” Peter said, getting to his feet. “Just don’t laugh, okay?”

Loki held up his hands. “Would I do such a thing?”

“Yes,” Peter said, but rushed off to his bedroom anyway. He returned a minute later with some bright red and yellow tubs. He opened one and pulled out something soft and green. It moved easily under his fingers, holding its new shape once he let go. “How’s this?”

 “Perfect,” Loki said. He opened the other tubs to find more of the strange substance in a variety of colours. “What is it?”

“Ah, it’s kind of dumb.” Peter dropped onto the sofa and drummed his fingers on his lap. “It’s called Play-Doh. You just make shapes and stuff and squash it. I’m too old for it now really, but I keep it ‘cause it helps me focus if everything gets a bit, you know.” He spun his finger around near his head. “Too much and all. Gives me something to do with my hands. You promised not to laugh,” he added, his eyes darting to Loki’s face.

“Why would I?”

“The other guys at school would if they saw.”

“Am I like those ‘other guys?’”

Peter snorted. “Not a bit.”

“There you go then.” With Peter mollified, Loki dug into his deep coat pockets and pulled out a small copper coin. “Imagine this is your core, the part of you that was created along with your life.”

“It’s not very big.”

“That doesn’t matter. Size is irrelevant when it comes to souls. And there’s no point looking down at your chest. It’s not literally inside your body in this plane of existence.”

With a flushed face Peter jerked his head up. “Right, obviously.”

The soft yellow dough squished around Loki’s fingertips as he rolled it out into a long sausage. “At first, you only have your core. But then you are born and start to have experiences, and they feed into your soul as you develop.” As he spoke, he wrapped the dough around the coin to form a small ball. “As you grow older, or undergo a life-changing event, the nature of your growing soul changes too.” He laid down the yellow dough and picked up the blue. With the pad of his thumb he joined the two together creating a green blur, then began to wind the blue around itself next to the yellow.

“Hey, if you mix them the colours get all messed up,” Peter said. “I can’t really afford more right now.”

“Don’t worry, I can enchant them back to their original colours easily.”

“Really?” A grin spread across Peter’s face. “How does that work? Do you change the physical properties of the object so they absorb different wavelengths of light? Or is it more like hypnosis, to make me perceive them as a different colour? Would everyone see them the same? Can you enchant organic matter similarly? How long does it last? Oh man, Mr Stark would love this stuff – uh, not that we’re telling him, of course.”

Loki held up his hands against the barrage of questions. “Spiderling. Focus, please.”

“Ah, sorry, I was doing it again.” Peter slipped his hands under his thighs for a second, then changed his mind and grabbed a wad of purple dough from the table. “Sorry, keep going?” he said as he crushed and reformed the dough between his palms. “So your soul changes a bit when stuff happens?”

“Imagine each colour is a different stage in your life,” Loki said. He quickly rolled the rest of the colours into balls and pressed them into each other. It was a remarkable toy really. He probably would have enjoyed it himself as a child, though Father would doubtless disapprove of his sons playing with any mortal invention. “This is a soul.” He held up the multi-coloured ball. “The coloured balls form one cohesive whole, with some overlap between sections, but each section is mostly kept together. The core moves freely within the soul, depending on which past stage is influencing you most at the time.”

“Wow,” Peter said, reaching out to take the ball into his own hands. He turned it over, frowning thoughtfully. “So this is what a soul looks like?”

Loki couldn’t contain a laugh. “Hells no. Not even close. But it should work as a model for this.”

“It’s just like school. You think one thing’s true and then the next year they tell you that’s wrong and it’s actually like this. And then they do the same thing next year.” Peter shook his head and Loki recognised the frustration in his voice. The same frustration that had led him down to the deepest vaults of the palace library, that always had him begging Mother for another lesson. “I try and just teach myself stuff now anyway. Stuff I’ll actually need for being an Avenger.” He tossed back the soul-ball and Loki caught it reflexively. “So, the part we saw earlier?”

“It takes a lot to break a soul,” Loki said. “It remains intact even after death, which is how you go to the afterlife.” Too late, Peter’s quiet gasp reminded him that mortals didn’t really know about that either. It would have to wait for later though. “The journey the other way though… that could do it.”

Peter caught on fast. “You’ve been resurrected? That can happen?”

“Not easily.” In fact, it hadn’t occurred since the dawn of Asgard. “But with enough skill in sorcery, and the right conditions… I don’t know who, but since my soul is split I can only assume someone has pulled me back from the other side, through cracks in the dimensional fabrics.” Loki gripped the soul model with wide fingers and squeezed. The coloured streaks oozed out. “See how the parts it’s been split into are mostly one colour? That’s how it is with the fragments of soul. They’re going to be mostly one section of my soul, but with little bits of the others mixed it. That’s why my memories are strange; most of them are in the other fragments. I need to get them back as soon as possible. Maybe then I can figure out how to get back home.” The coin peeked through the dough and Loki picked it out, wiping it clean on his thigh. “Luckily the core must have stayed with me, which is how I’m here talking to you.” When he glanced up at Peter, the boy had paled and his hands lay still on his lap for once. “Are you following?”

Peter sucked in a long breath. “I’m sorry you died,” he said. “I mean, I know you’re back now, but still. That really sucks you died. You’re way too young. Not that it’s any better if an old person died but, you know.”

“I – thank you?” Loki’s silver tongue rarely failed him like this, but it wasn’t often he was commiserated on his own death. What had it been like anyway? Had his family mourned? Presumable he hadn’t been burned, as he was sitting in his body right here, but there must have been something, surely? Had they remembered his favourite flowers? The idea that they might not have, or even if they had, raised a lump in his throat.

“But um…” Peter was suddenly unable to meet Loki’s eyes, his tone painfully casual. “If you’re dead, or you died, how’d you know this isn’t the afterlife? Maybe we’re both in the afterlife and didn’t realise it yet?”

“Impossible,” Loki said. “For a start, we couldn’t have met. I’d be in Valhalla, or Hel I suppose, though I’m not sure I’ve done anything too heinous. Either way, my soul is destined for somewhere different to yours.”

“Right. Yeah,” Peter said. Though his shoulders sagged, he didn’t look as relieved as Loki had expected. More tired. “I guess Uncle Ben would be here if it was.”

He is no stranger to loss, Loki thought as he shifted in his seat, unused to comforting anyone. He allowed a moment to pass before saying, “Anyway, you’re certainly alive. The life force you radiate is too strong for anything else. Even a mortal should know you have to die to get to an afterlife.”

“About that.” Peter raised his head and though he kept his expression under control, his twitching fingers betrayed his anxiety. “I think I kind of might have died?”

Loki sat quietly again as Peter stumbled through his explanation, but this time his story was halting and he rarely met Loki’s eyes. He told of his vague memory, his supposed illness, the way his beloved Mr Stark had cut him off, and bad dreams. He wouldn’t say what exactly those dreams were. Only that he thought it was of when he died.

When he had finished his story he sat hunched in his seat, his legs tucked under him as he worried a loose thread of the sofa’s stitching. “It’s probably nothing,” he said. “I just got a bit freaked out by all this soul stuff.”

“I could sense if your soul was split as well,” Loki said. “I promise you, yours is whole. Give me your hand and I will see if I can tell anything else, if that will set you more at ease.”

Only with Peter’s slim fingers in his own could Loki feel how they tremored. He sent out tendrils of magic and Peter shivered. “That tingles.”

“How odd. You shouldn’t be able to feel it,” Loki replied as he rubbed his thumb in circles over the back of Peter’s hand, sending the magic deeper. He kept his eyes on Peter, watching carefully for a sign it hurt, but he only shivered again.

“I’m very sensitive,” Peter said and flushed. “That sounds weird. I mean, my senses are. I can feel everything. Have you ever got hyper-aware of your clothes touching you? It was like that, twenty-four-seven at first.”

Loki searched for anything out of the ordinary and found nothing, at least nothing like he was looking for. Peter apparently was not your average Midgardian, but even so he should have been able to find signs if he had been resurrected. “Your soul is intact and your body hasn’t died.”

“Oh.” Peter  said. “So, it was all in my head?”

“In your head, but not necessarily untrue. It’s possible you died and then that timeline reversed – there are certainly traces of unusually strong magic about this place – but your soul retained the memories. They may be supressed, either by your own mind or someone else to grant you peace.”

“I see. That’s good I guess,” Peter said, tugging his hand back. Loki hadn’t realised he was still holding it and let go quickly. “I didn’t actually die in this time. It was another me. Or a me that used to be me?” His voice was low as he wrapped his arms around himself and Loki couldn’t tell if he was being addressed or not. “Wonder how it happened. Mr Stark said it was something bad and… does he remember it? Oh god, I hope he didn’t see. That would really suck. But then, so would being alone.” Peter’s voice hitched as he spoke, his words barely audible.

The urge to go to him, place an arm around his shoulders and tell him it was alright swept Loki with surprising force. That was not the Asgardian way. If boys couldn’t stand the horrors of death and war then they had no place in his Father’s lands. Loki had learnt that soon enough, and Peter was his equivalent age. He was alive, so there was no reason to cry. But Peter was not Asgardian. He had not been raised for the battlefield. He was just a child. And he was scared by death.

Loki didn’t hug him. Instead, he went to the small kitchen and made a cup of tea the way Peter had that morning. When he placed it on the low table, Peter looked up. “Drink,” was all Loki could think to say, and Peter did.

Once Peter’s aunt returned, Loki retreated to the bedroom and lounged about in the night wear Peter had lent him, picking bits of coloured dough out from under his black painted nails. He resisted temptation for about five minutes before rummaging through all the drawers and under the bed. With all entertainment of that form exhausted, he picked up some sort of illustrated story and lay on the top bunk to read. Sometimes he heard snatches of Peter and his aunt’s conversation, but more often just the tone. They sounded happy. He wondered if they were a normal family for Midgard. When Peter returned to his room, Loki ignored his whispers and pretended to be asleep.

Once it was the middle of the night, he was anything but. He lay still and listened to Peter’s soft breathing, but restlessness stirred his bones. He’d never been an easy sleeper, unlike Thor. That oaf was impossible to stir. At home when he couldn’t sleep he’d slip out of his chambers and wander the palace, shrouded by his illusions. It was fascinating what you could pick up that way. Here, all he could do was pace back and forth, his steps light as not to disturb his host.

Peter stirred and Loki froze mid-step. He wasn’t doing anything wrong exactly; it was just a bit weird to be wandering someone else’s bedroom at night. Springs creaked as Peter rolled over and it was only when he gave a low moan that Loki realised he wasn’t waking up at all. It was a night terror.

“Peter,” Loki whispered, kneeling at the side of his bed. The first time he’d said his name. An old name, a good name. Names had power, and maybe a strong name would help keep him safe. “It’s alright, Peter. There’s nothing to be afraid of here.”

The sweat of Peter’s brow gleamed in the faint moonlight as his face twisted in fear. Loki reached out to touch him but held back. The spell to take away bad dreams was one of the first he’d learnt. It would be so easy to grant him peace, at least for a night. But Peter had said no magic without asking him first, so Loki slunk back into his own bunk. He didn’t think Peter would appreciate being seen like that anyway.