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“Midgard has been swallowed by war.”
“Yes, I’ve heard.” Loki pressed his lips into a thin line.
He paced slowly around Heimdall, the heavy thud of his boots echoing in a steady rhythm, his hands clasped behind his back. His distant, distracted gaze drifted somewhere far beyond the horizon.
“Fools,” Loki tossed out.
“They simply lack wisdom,” Heimdall replied calmly.
Loki gave a derisive snort.
“They’re already dropping like flies. Every single day.”
“Their lives…”
“Worthless.”
“…are not as long as ours. And you, too, are lacking in wisdom, Loki.” Heimdall allowed himself the faintest smile.
“Maybe. But I’ve got plenty of wit.” Loki met the golden eyes.
“Are you sure?”
“You know what I intend to do, don’t you?” Loki’s lips curled into a sly smile.
“That’s your affair.” Heimdall shrugged.
Loki stopped, drawing a slow breath.
“All of this… it’s fascinating.”
“I have no doubt where your sympathies lie.” Heimdall’s fingers tightened around the hilt of his sword.
Loki’s shoulders shook with silent laughter. A greenish magical glow rippled over him, and his Asgardian attire shifted into a military uniform. He tugged at the gray sleeve, then flicked a finger against the breast pocket. Looking up at Heimdall, he smirked.
“Well? What do you think?”
If Heimdall had been any less composed, he might have rolled his eyes.
“I’m going to Midgard.”
Heimdall turned his gaze to Loki, who rocked impatiently from heel to toe.
“You take matters like this far too lightly, Loki,” he said gravely.
Loki snorted again. He stepped farther away, turning his head back toward Heimdall.
“Go on, open it. And tell mom I’ll be back soon.”
“Please, be careful.”
“Don’t fuss.”
Heimdall tilted his sword. The Bifrost flared, shimmering with dense, radiant light as it opened a portal for Loki.
“You know,” Loki said with a crooked grin, “I recently decided to try out a new spell. It lets me slip out of your ever-watchful gaze. Seems like the perfect time.”
The portal swallowed his tall figure. Heimdall shook his head.
***
Blinking his eyes open after the blinding flare of the portal’s energy, Loki took his time looking around.
He stood at the edge of a forest where the trees thinned out, giving way to a flat, silent field. Behind him loomed a dark, dense woodland — utterly still, utterly mute. Not a single living sound, not the faintest rustle. The treetops hung frozen, locked in an icy stillness.
Loki glanced back, surveying the emptiness, then took a cautious step forward.
He walked unhurriedly, hands tucked into the narrow pockets of his trousers. The forest grew sparser, letting through the light of a bright, round moon. Immersed in silence, the world seemed indifferent, allowing itself to be shaken, its fragile balance disturbed. His father often said a wise king does not seek war. Loki frowned. A foolish little world, torn into ragged, scattered pieces. A foolish little world, ready to devour itself.
He jerked his head up at the faint sound of footsteps — closely. Frowning, he listened. Slipping a hand from his pocket, he closed his fingers around the hilt of a dagger that appeared in his palm.
A sharp blow to the head sent him crashing to the ground.
Loki hissed at the burst of pain and rolled onto his back. A soldier loomed over him, large gray eyes glinting in the dim light. With a smirk, Loki swept the man’s legs out from under him with a kick. The soldier gave a short cry, dropping his rifle. He scrambled up just as Loki pushed himself upright — but knocked him flat again, pinning him down. A hard punch to the cheekbone made Loki wince. He caught the soldier’s fist mid-swing and twisted his wrist. Another sharp cry. Grabbing his other arm, Loki wrenched him over and flipped him onto his back, looming above him. The dagger reappeared in his hand, its blade pressed lightly to the soldier’s throat as Loki’s lips curved into a sly smile.
“Well? What are you waiting for? Go on — kill me, Fritz!” the soldier spat, breathing hard.
“What did you call me?” Loki chuckled. “I’m no Fritz. I’m Asgardian.”
“What?” The soldier’s dark brows shot up in disbelief.
With a quiet laugh, Loki released him, rose to his feet, and offered a hand.
“I’m not touching you,” the soldier hissed, pushing himself up without help.
Loki snorted. A shimmer of magic rippled over him; his uniform dissolved and reformed into one identical to the soldier’s. Loki spread his arms slightly.
“What the hell is going on?” The soldier staggered back, eyes wide.
“See? Not a Fritz anymore.”
“I must be hallucinating from hunger.”
“Hey, you’re the hallucination,” Loki shot back, arching an eyebrow.
“Who are you?”
“Who are you?”
The soldier hesitated, pressing his lips together, rubbing the back of his closely cropped head. Loki’s gaze flicked briefly to the dimple in his chin.
“I’m Bucky,” the soldier said at last, extending a hand uncertainly.
Loki took it.
“Loki.”
“Lo-ki?” Bucky repeated with a crooked grin.
“Bu-cky?” Loki echoed, releasing his grip.
A faint smile tugged at the corners of Bucky’s mouth.
“American?” Loki asked, bending to pick up Bucky’s rifle and handing it back.
Bucky nodded, taking it.
“All right then.” Loki gave a small nod to himself. “Let’s get out of here.”
“Where? Why should I go anywhere with you?”
“Because now I’m American too,” Loki smirked, tugging at his collar.
Bucky frowned. Loki started forward, intent on leaving the forest at last, but Bucky didn’t move.
“How did you do that? What just happened? Who are you?”
“The universe, Bucky, isn’t nearly as simple as people think. Come on.” Loki tugged at his sleeve.
“An alien, or something? I thought you were supposed to be green. Ugly, too.”
“So I’m not ugly?” Loki smirked.
“Not really.”
At last, Bucky stepped forward, following him. He slung the rifle over his back and brushed the dirt from his knees. Those large gray eyes kept darting, still wary, to Loki’s back beneath the uniform.
“How do you even know where to go?”
“You came from there. Isn’t it obvious?” Loki replied, turning his head slightly.
Bucky fell into step beside him.
“Yeah… makes sense,” he muttered, watching Loki.
A faint shadow of a smile lingered on Loki’s thin lips. He slipped his hands back into his pockets, glancing at Bucky’s furrowed brow. The distrust in those gray eyes was slowly giving way to curiosity, the gaze wandering with growing interest over his pale, striking face, the elegant line of his neck, the coal-black hair. Bucky pressed his lips together.
“I’m just gonna call you Alien.”
“Fine,” Loki said with a quiet laugh. “Then I’ll call you Soldier.”
Bucky smirked.
“You can’t go to the camp,” he said seriously.
“I don’t ask permission.” Loki smiled.
“You can’t. They’ll kill you.” Bucky stopped, placing a hand on Loki’s shoulder and meeting his eyes.
“You were about to kill me yourself. What changed?”
“I wasn’t—“ Bucky swallowed. “Do what you want. Your problem.”
His eyes flashed a pale, translucent silver in the dim light as he pulled his hand away and strode ahead. Loki licked his lips, gave a small shake of his head, and followed.
The air grew colder, losing the softness of night. The ground crunched dully beneath their heavy boots, as if yielding, sinking under their weight. The stars had vanished; only bright Venus shone alone against the black canvas of the sky. Bucky walked with a frown, while a barely-there smile played on Loki’s lips — like a delicate brushstroke on his sharp face. He glanced now and then at Bucky, who stared stubbornly straight ahead.
They didn’t leave the forest, wisely keeping to the cover of the trees. Bucky walked a little ahead; Loki kept pace. Soon a narrow clearing opened before them. The sound of water carried nearby, and Loki, glancing aside, caught sight of a river. The soldiers had made camp along its bank.
Loki noted, with some surprise, the strange calm hanging in the air. He had expected Midgard to be piled with mountains of corpses. But no — the narrow riverside was scattered with resting soldiers. Someone sat beneath a tall tree — likely the night watch.
Loki looked around — and realized Bucky was already gone.
He shook his head.
***
“Haven’t gotten yourself shot yet?” Bucky asked with a smirk.
“Not yet,” Loki replied, glancing up at him.
Bucky crouched down beside him and held out a metal canteen.
“Water?”
“Sure.” Loki took it and drank. “Thanks.”
Bucky silently took the canteen back. His gaze drifted to the calm surface of the half-translucent water. The river flowed slowly, quietly, reflecting the sunlight that had just broken through the clouds.
“Who are you? What are you doing here?”
“I was bored,” Loki shrugged. “Got bored at home.”
Bucky shot him a look, brows knitting together.
“What?” he asked, startled.
“Bored,” Loki repeated evenly.
Bucky sprang to his feet.
“You think war is some kind of entertainment?”
Loki just shrugged again, lips pressed together as he looked at him.
“You’re a real piece of shit,” Bucky snapped, eyes widening before he turned sharply and strode away.
Loki smirked, got up and followed.
Bucky dropped down under a tree, lips tight, pointedly turning away as Loki came over and sat beside him.
“How would you feel about a war between ants, Bucky?” Loki asked.
“What?” Bucky turned his head, staring at him in confusion.
“A war. Between ants. Tiny insects on some distant, insignificant little planet.”
“What, you think you’re a god or something?” Bucky scoffed.
“I was born one.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“Funny. Gods used to be held in much higher regard,” Loki said, almost genuinely offended.
Bucky frowned, studying him closely — like he was searching for a catch, an explanation, waiting for Loki to crack and admit it was a joke. But Loki simply looked away. There was no hint on his face that he meant to turn it into one.
“You’re serious, aren’t you?” Bucky asked more quietly.
Loki nodded.
“So what — you’re a god? Just like that? The God?”
“No, Bucky, not that one,” Loki said with a faint smile, looking back at his bewildered face. “That one of yours has nothing to do with me.”
“I don’t understand any of this.”
“Not surprising,” Loki chuckled. “Loki, God of Mischief. Prince of Asgard, if you please.”
Bucky’s mouth fell open. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment and shook his head quickly, like he was trying to brush off an annoying insect.
“And you expect me to just believe… this nonsense you’re spouting? Jesus, Loki, quit messing with my head!”
Bucky shot to his feet, leaving Loki behind — quietly laughing, a wide grin stretching across his thin lips.
***
“I—”
Bucky faltered. Lowering his head, he frowned and shifted awkwardly from foot to foot. Loki watched him from below, leaning back against a tree, tucked away from prying eyes — of which there were plenty in the camp.
“I still don’t get any of this, to be honest. And I don’t even know why I came back. But… since I dragged you here, and you’re not leaving…”
Loki smiled.
“Anyway… if I said something wrong back there — sorry. I mean…”
“Oh, come on, Bucky. It’s fine.”
Loki patted the dry grass beside him. Bucky cast a hesitant glance at his hand, but sat down.
“I still think you might be a hallucination. And I’d rather not lose my mind.”
Loki let out a soft laugh.
“Don’t worry. You won’t.”
“That’s exactly what a hallucination would say, don’t you think?” Bucky’s lips twitched faintly.
“And would a hallucination do this?” Loki asked, brushing his hand along Bucky’s forearm.
Bucky looked at the slender hand, then covered it with his own. He turned it palm-up, running his thumb over the cool skin. Raising one brow, Loki met his gray eyes.
“Even if I have lost it…” Bucky murmured.
Loki tightened his grip on his hand.
“I don’t despise war, Bucky. I’ve seen worlds at war. What’s happening on Midgard — this slaughter — it’s like a stroll through a garden by comparison. After centuries of endless, senseless bloodbaths, after thousands of your narrow-minded rulers… it all blurs into something ordinary. Just another restless stir in the life of the Realms.
Bucky listened, brow furrowed, uncertain. In his eyes — still clear in a way the war hadn’t yet managed to dim — curiosity mingled with a quiet sadness.
“I… I think I understand you, but… also not really. That was a lot of strange words,” Bucky said with an uneasy smile.
Loki’s lips curved into something softer. He lifted his hand lazily — and in the night air, a shape began to form. The outline of a tree.
“Yggdrasil, Bucky — the World Tree. It binds the Nine Realms together. You and I are in Midgard, the realm of humans. I come from Asgard, where the gods dwell.”
Bucky’s already wide eyes grew even wider as he watched Loki trace the worlds into the air, showing how the branches of Yggdrasil wove them together. The shimmering hues of the Bifrost, the gold of Asgard, the darkness of Helheim, the frozen wastes of Jotunheim — and Earth among them, Midgard.
“So… you really are a god?” Bucky asked quietly, almost childlike, his eyes reflecting the fading illusion of the realms.
Loki smiled.
“I did tell you.”
Bucky swallowed. His grip on Loki’s hand tightened as the illusion dissolved.
“Tell me more,” he whispered.
***
Loki waited, lying on the ground with his gaze fixed on the sky. The moon, reflected in the dark water, bathed the riverbank in a soft, luminous glow. Tiny stars seemed to wink, flickering playfully.
Hearing footsteps, Loki turned his head. Bucky lowered himself to the ground beside him.
“I thought you might not come,” Loki said quietly.
“I said I would,” Bucky replied just as softly.
Loki pushed himself up. Bucky shifted slightly toward him as Loki sat down close — so close their shoulders nearly touched. The top buttons of his uniform were undone, and metal tags rested against his chest.
“What are those?” Loki asked, reaching toward them.
Bucky gently caught his wrist, stopping him from turning them over.
“Dog tags. Identification. For the dead.”
“How optimistic,” Loki said dryly.
Bucky shrugged. He lowered his hand but didn’t let go of Loki’s wrist. Loki wrapped his fingers around his hand. Bucky glanced at him, tightening his grip.
“You’re not exactly thrilled about this war,” Loki said.
Bucky nodded.
“Then why are you here?”
“Because it matters,” Bucky answered firmly.
“To whom? Why wake up every day knowing those might be needed?”
“Because Midgard’s in danger.” Bucky smiled.
Loki gave a crooked smirk, shaking his head.
“I’m a soldier. I protect my country. I protect the world from fascist filth.”
“By putting yourself in danger.”
“Oh, come on.” Bucky looked away.
“Bucky…”
“What?” He pressed his lips together and looked back at Loki.
“Leave it. To hell with the war.”
Bucky huffed a quiet laugh.
“I’m no coward.”
“I know.”
“And even if I wanted to… it doesn’t work like that. No, Loki — you don’t get to walk away from a war.”
“I can help you. Just say the word — I can hide you from it anywhere.”
Bucky frowned. He fell silent for a moment, turning Loki’s words over, then snorted softly, unable to hide the sadness in it.
“I don’t want to hide, Alien.” Bucky smiled.
“Humans…” Loki muttered, shaking his head again.
“Idiots?” Bucky smirked.
“Very much so.”
Loki held his gaze. Bucky looked back with quiet certainty, leaving no room for doubt. Slowly, that resolve softened into warmth. His grip on Loki’s hand loosened just enough for their fingers to intertwine. With his other hand, he lifted it hesitantly, gently tracing along Loki’s sharp cheekbone. Loki’s blue eyes softened. Bucky’s gaze dropped to his lips. He drew a slow breath, then leaned in, brushing them uncertainly with his own. Loki slid a hand to the back of Bucky’s neck, parting his lips slowly. Bucky shivered faintly, letting in the warmth of his breath. His fingers tightened around Loki’s hand as he pressed closer, kissing him with growing certainty. Loki’s hand moved through the short hair at the nape of his neck, then slipped down to wrap around his shoulders.
“Damn it… why did I do that?” Bucky whispered as he pulled back slowly, resting his forehead against Loki’s.
“Because you wanted to,” Loki breathed.
“Yeah.” Bucky gave a crooked grin. “Damn right I did. I might not live to see tomorrow. To hell with prejudice.”
Loki smiled.
“I should get back,” Bucky said with a sigh. “I think Williams saw me leave.”
“Bucky, the camp’s two steps away.”
“Still. Just in case. Sorry.”
Bucky brushed Loki’s lips once more, quick and fleeting, then got to his feet with reluctance.
“Tomorrow, ok?” he said with a smile. “I’ll come.”
Loki nodded.
***
“You asleep?”
Loki cracked his eyes open and saw Bucky smiling down at him.
“Almost.” Loki yawned and straightened, leaning back more firmly against the tree.
“Don’t,” Bucky smirked. “Stay awake.”
He sat down beside him, shifting closer until he pressed against Loki. Loki wrapped an arm around him.
“They say we won’t be here much longer. Reports of Germans nearby. We’re moving out soon,” Bucky said, trying to keep his voice steady.
“I’m coming with you.” Loki brushed his nose against Bucky’s temple.
“No.” Bucky shook his head.
“I’ll put your commander under a spell. And if anyone has questions, I’ll deal with them too.”
“Is it dangerous?”
“The spell? Not at all. They’ll just think I’m one of you.”
“Don’t, Loki.” Bucky shook his head again.
“I’m not leaving you alone with this war, Bucky.”
Bucky turned his head and pressed his lips to Loki’s.
“Go back to Asgard… and forget about me,” Bucky whispered, desperation slipping through.
“No.”
“Loki—“
“No,” Loki cut him off, firmer this time.
***
The crack of Midgardian weapons was deafening. The ridiculous uniform got in the way of every movement. The blood pouring from wounds — German or American alike — was the same, shockingly bright red. There was nothing amusing about any of it.
He would have told it all to go to hell long ago. If not for Bucky.
If not for Bucky, looking at him with those gray eyes in a way that made one thought rise, unbidden: he’d catch even a filthy Midgardian bullet if it meant protecting him. If it meant staying by his side.
He remembered the night before the unit was sent into the meat grinder. Remembered the touches and kisses, the hard, cold ground. Comfort cast aside, a sharp stone scraping his leg. Bucky’s muffled moans as he knelt before him. The splinter biting into his palm when he grabbed a branch overhead. A quiet plea to stand, slipping from his lips — his own knees pressing into the earth. The desperate need to be his only thought, his only desire — tonight and always after. Control slipping, his heart pounding wildly. Kisses tinged with the bitterness of what was coming. Soft whispers. Warm arms wrapped around him.
He knew Bucky had been thinking the same thing — waiting for the nightmare to end, so he could become that. The only thought. The only desire.
“Sergeant!” the commander shouted, calling to Bucky.
Loki didn’t catch the hurried order. Bucky gave a sharp nod and turned, searching for him. Loki ran up, speaking quickly:
“Wherever you’re going, I’m coming with you.”
“No, Loki. No. We found a building — good sniper position. You stay down here. Please. I can’t think when you’re near. Please.”
Tears stood in Bucky’s eyes. Loki closed his own for a brief second, knowing there was no time to argue.
“Fine. Your way. Your way. Damn it, Bucky…”
“It’s okay.” Bucky tried to smile.
Loki stepped forward abruptly and crushed his lips to Bucky’s, not caring about the people all around them. People who might be dead by the end of the day.
“I love you, Alien,” Bucky whispered, gripping Loki’s hand tightly.
“And I love you, Soldier,” Loki breathed, letting go.
Letting go of Bucky.
***
Loki didn’t understand what had happened. Didn’t understand when the shot had been fired. Firearms might have been useless against him — but they still hurt. They hurt a great deal. The searing pain of a bullet tearing through just above his chest struck sharp and merciless. Loki hissed through clenched teeth as he collapsed, the world going black.
“Bucky…” he murmured weakly as his eyes fluttered open.
He shot upright, horror flooding him as he looked around. Half-burned houses. Dozens of bodies — dead and wounded, some still twitching faintly. Bucky was nowhere to be seen. Loki’s gaze snapped to the building Bucky had mentioned. It was on fire.
He rushed to a nearby American soldier who was still barely alive.
“What happened?!” he shouted.
“Ours…” the man rasped. “Taken… prisoner… those who… still… alive… Germans…”
Loki staggered back, breathing hard. The half-healed wound throbbed dully. He threw his head back and shouted:
“Heimdall!”
The Bifrost answered at once, tearing him away from the burning Midgard.
“Heimdall!” Loki cried out the moment the guardian appeared before him.
Tears streamed down his face. He nearly dropped to his knees, catching himself at the last second as he stumbled closer.
“Find him! Now!”
“Loki,” Heimdall said evenly.
“Find him!”
“Calm yourself!”
Loki fell silent, staring up at him with desperate, pleading eyes.
“I don’t understand what you’re talking about.”
“Stop mocking me! You see everything!”
“Loki! Enough. Listen.”
Loki clenched his jaw.
“I don’t know what — or who — you mean, Loki. I did not see you. Have you forgotten your own spell? It works.”
Loki collapsed to his knees anyway, a broken sound tearing from his throat. Heimdall stepped closer and laid a hand on his back, shaking with sobs.
“Didn’t I tell you that you treat war too lightly? What happened?”
“To hell with you. I lost him. I promised I’d protect him. I lost him. Lost him… Heimdall…” Loki lifted his head, voice breaking, “help me find him. I’m begging you. Please. Help me save him.”
Heimdall nodded.
“I will do everything I can, Loki.”