Chapter Text
The Aether rose into the air like a cloud of smoke, tendrils writhing and thrashing like an agitated sea serpent. Their uncle watched with wide eyes as it rose to tower above them, lighting up the mist at their feet until it reflected red like a river of blood. The twisted trees cast odd, misshapen shadows that stretched out long and thin, pulling away from the cloud as though the darkness itself was trying to escape.
"Oops," he said, not sounding particularly surprised or alarmed or pleased.
"You swore to remove and contain it!" Loki's voice sounded high and frightened, and Thor took a half-step forward, keeping his younger brother behind him.
"It got away from me." Their uncle shrugged. The Aether twisted, curling and unfurling above them as it rose.
"What are we going to do about it?" Gamora's shout was almost lost in the turbulence. She planted her feet and stood between the glowing red mass and Peter, a useless sword clutched in one hand. The wind whipped her hair around and into her face. Behind her, Peter swayed, blinking and disoriented.
Groot kept hold of Hela, but the both of them had their chins tilted upward, Groot gaping in awe and Hela scowling. Rocket clutched tight to his blaster as though it were a security blanket, and Mantis cowered, staring up into the sky with wide eyes that reflected the red glow. Drax stood stock still.
Above them, the Aether stretched and started to dip. Thor raised his hammer, ready to defend his friends and praying that Mjolnir could stop an Infinity Stone.
The Aether swirled indecisively before diving straight for the older Loki.
He gave a little half-smile as it hit, throwing his arms wide as the power of reality drained into him, swirling and disappearing like liquid into a funnel. He laughed, the sound filled with malice and triumph, and when he locked eyes with Thor the green was shot through with flecks of deep red.
As the last of the Aether disappeared the wind fell still, leaving silence to descend once more upon the dead forest.
“What did you do,” Loki whispered beside him, the words filled with dread.
Their uncle laughed again, an almost manic sound that broke the silence. His eyes flashed red before settling back to their usual green, and he flexed his fingers as sparks the color of new blood danced across his skin.
His arms flew out wide, and wind swept outward and away from him in a perfect circle, strong enough to sweep away the mist as though it were a layer of dust to be brushed off an old tabletop. For the first time, they could see the ground, the same dust and slate-grey stone as the outcroppings that rose occasionally around them.
Unlike the outcroppings, though, the ground was coated in reddish-brown sigils, their swirling patterns marked out precisely for hundreds of feet in every direction. Thor shifted his feet but there was no escaping them, not as far as they stretched. The lines were thick and the color of old blood, and given the materials available to them here on Niflheim, that was likely what they were scrawled in.
Their uncle stomped, bringing the toe of his boot down squarely on one of the designs. It started to glow red as the power of the Aether seeped into it, and the color spread, running along the lines like a fire catching on spilled oil.
He raised his hammer as the lines started running faster, but before he could throw it the glow intensified, flaring brighter until he had to raise a hand to shield his eyes.
When it faded, their uncle was no longer standing in front of him. He cast about, increasingly frantic, but the man was nowhere to be seen in any direction.
"I am Groot." He and the others turned toward the tree, which was staring at the circle of its empty arms. Hela was gone as well.
He swore, spinning faster, but the wall of mist that had been blown away was creeping back in, and their shrinking clearing remained empty of all except him and the Guardians. It was possible they had just used the distraction to run off, to avoid letting Loki return the seal to his magic as he swore—
His mind formed the question just as Mantis asked it. "Where is Loki?"
Loki had been right behind him. Thor had been sure of it, had kept him there so he could protect him if their uncle or his friends tried to attack him again. He wasn't there now, though, just like he wasn't by Gamora and Peter, frozen stock still and staring in horror at the spot where he had been, or near Rocket or Groot, who were whipping around, searching with something that approached panic. He wasn't by Mantis, who was crouching and looking stricken with Drax's comforting hand on her shoulder. Loki wasn't anywhere.
"Loki?" he tried calling, uncertain. No answer. "Loki!" He shouted next, spinning in place to try and catch sight of him. Nothing. "LOKI!"
He could hear the panic in his own voice. His brother would answer him if he could.
The spell had looked as though it were scrawled in blood. Here in this lifeless place, practically the only place their uncle could have gotten blood was from himself. Blood that would tie him directly to whatever sort of escape spell he had used. Blood that Hela, his daughter, shared.
Blood that Loki, Laufey's son by birth if not by family ties, by all technicalities shared as well.
There were technically no clouds here in this place of darkness and fog, but lightning split the sky nonetheless as Thor screamed.
There was a flash of light, so bright that when it faded, the landscape around them seemed darker and gloomier and more barren than before.
Already, though, the lightning crackling around Thor was starting to fade. He dropped to his knees, running his fingers along one of the dirty brown lines and rubbing them together before leaning back, looking more lost than Gamora had ever seen him.
This was bad, it was worse than bad, and it was absolutely her fault.
"Oh god, Thor, I'm so sorry." The feeling that washed over her wasn't quite guilt, more an awful, unavoidable recognition of what she'd done, what she'd caused. A maniac was on the loose with universe-destroying levels of power because of her. Thor's brother was gone because of her. Her friend was gone because of her.
And yet, through all of it, a part of her didn't regret it, not with Peter here, safe, beside her. She had cared about Loki, certainly more than any of her own brothers, but she could bear to lose him.
She met Thor's devastated eyes, saw the wide-eyed horror filling Mantis' face, the way Rocket's ears dropped like a kicked puppy, and acknowledged that not everyone felt the same. Still, through the waves of guilt that came rising up now, choking her, suffocating her, she couldn't quite bring herself to wish she had done differently. In some ways, that was the worst part.
"You need to leave," Thor said, and his voice shocked her out of her stupor. Every trace, every ounce of the warmth and friendliness that had always suffused his words was gone. His tone was icy, full of grief but also a cold, solid rage. When she met his eyes again they flashed dangerously, as though she could see through them to a barely-controlled storm underneath.
"I'm sorry," she said, trying to make the words come out reasonable and to hide the way her voice shook. "We can—"
"Leave," Thor said again, a command delivered with all the finality of a prison door falling shut. "You should be able to make it back to your ship if you go now."
"We're not—"
"If the Allfather sees you he will have you killed," Thor said tonelessly. "I could not stop him if I wished to." His eyes fell back down to meet hers, still sharp as the edges of his brother's daggers. She didn't miss the way his fists bunched at his sides, or the crackle of lightning as it arced between his curled fingers. "It is only for the affection that my brother bore you that I allow you this chance. You will not be given another. Unless you have found Loki," he added, "It would not be wise to return, or to attempt to contact Asgard."
She nodded, staring down at the ground where cool mist swirled around her feet. A pair of warm, strong hands fell on her shoulders, and the comfort she drew from Peter's touch sent another stab of nauseating guilt through her stomach. He led her as their group started shuffling towards their ship, and she let him, keeping her eyes fixed on the mist.
No one spoke as they made their way back to the ship, or as they prepared to take off, or even when Niflheim faded behind them as they took to the empty skies. To her the silence felt heavy, laced with unspoken accusation.
When she looked up from the floor she was sitting opposite Mantis, who looked, above all else, wilted, with her shoulders hunched inward and her antennae drooping. Her eyes were wide and full of emotion, but she stayed silent, not whispering to anyone how she felt.
Gamora closed her eyes and wondered, not for the first time, if the team would survive what she'd just done.
The Gatekeeper of Asgard stood far from his appointed post, in the private study of his King.
Odin Allfather stood before the window, eyes fixed far beyond the courtyards and forests and battlements below. He did not move. The only sound in the room came from Heimdall himself as he delivered information granted him by his Sight in a deep, toneless voice.
"Sleipnir has vanished from the stables."
"Fenrir is released from his bonds."
"Jormungand no longer inhabits the oceans of Midgard."
When at last the King spoke, his voice was soft, his tone hard.
"Send out a message to all of the realms," he said, and Gungnir struck once against the stone floor. The sound echoed, and the echo reverberated through the room, the halls, and beyond. The very stone shook with it.
"Tell them Asgard prepares for war."