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After living for over a thousand years, not many things could startle Loki. But this nearly did.
Someone had slipped into his room through the magic he had used to alert him of intruders. The magic was important as he had many, many secrets, one of which would absolutely get him executed by Odin and Frigga.
Yet he hadn't felt a thing.
Heimdall hadn't noticed it either, or Loki would have been notified about it.
Looking at the ominous skull planted on that human yet monstrous figure, two words came to his mind.
"Death's Apostle."
The figure threw the book at Loki's face. It stopped right before Loki's nose, suspended as if caught by an invisible hand. The book hovered for a moment, then drifted down and gently settled on the bed beside him.
"Death's Companion," the intruder corrected. "I don't serve Death. She is my lover."
Loki's lips curved faintly as he adjusted his posture on the bed, crossing one leg over the other. He interlaced his fingers and rested them on his raised knee.
"So what does Death's Companion—her lover want from me?"
He decided to humor the intruder. Fate would decide where this conversation went. Either Heimdall would notice this anomaly, or they would chat to his heart's content.
As for trying to catch him?
Loki didn't entertain any fantasy. If the man could slip past Heimdall's sight and Asgard magic unnoticed, he could slip away unnoticed. Someone with that confidence wouldn't come unprepared.
Death's Companion looked toward the door. "Don't you want to know why Odin is hunting me?"
That stirred Loki's interest. "It's natural to be a little… curious."
"A little curious, huh?" His tone was amused. "Do you know this is the reason Asgard gets destroyed in the future? In around a decade."
"Ridiculous!" Loki let out a condescending laughter. "Father drove Frost Giants into a world of darkness. He once nearly conquered all nine realms. What could possibly threaten him now?"
"You're an idiot. A frog looking at the world from the bottom of a well." Death's Companion shook his head, disappointed. "And you think you're smarter than Thor? You're just as arrogant as him."
The comparison got under Loki's skin. He swept his hand, and dozens of black daggers dashed through the air.
Death's Companion stretched a hand. A massive orange shield manifested in his hand, the rune and patterns rotating and glowing as if it was alive. The daggers bounced off the shield and fell to the ground.
Beep. Beep. Beep. And the daggers exploded in a green burst of energy.
Death's Companion put the shield away. "Knew you'd try something underhanded."
Loki returned his hands to his knee, showing a calm expression. "Learned that trick from Midgard—the realm you hail from."
The Midgard of another universe, Loki omitted that part without shame. Nobody needed to know of that secret.
"Never tried to hide it." Death Companion shrugged. "If you think I'm lying… mention 'Hela' in front of Odin. He'll tell you the rest."
"Who is Hela?"
"Ask your father. We'll meet again."
His figure melted into shadows, disappearing from the room.
Loki stared at the spot.
'As I thought, catching him won't be easy.'
Odin's concerns weren't without a foundation. This Death's Apostle was dangerous.
'Why did he approach me?'
Did he want to create a divide between Asgard's royal family through tactics? No, that wouldn't make sense for a Midgardian.
'What are his motives? Why does Heimdall think this Apostle will bring Ragnarok?'
Loki kept a calm face while racking his mind. The word Hela could be a trap, a forbidden word that could put him in trouble. Or it could be the key to solving this mystery.
He certainly wasn't fond of taking unnecessary risks. Only brutes like his brother hurled themselves into the unknown and called it courage.
But…
He couldn't stop himself from creating hundreds of scenarios caused by the mere mention of one name—Hela.
'I have to test this.'
***
Dante strutted through the palace's hallway in a long black coat that fell to his knees, designed like military armor with a high collar and double-breasted front. A wide black sash wrapped multiple times around his waist, knotted at the side. Dark fitted trousers tucked into tall black boots.
The entire outfit was monochrome and elegant. The only outfit that could easily fit on Earth.
He really liked the aesthetics. So he'd stolen it.
Even then, his "prize" was made underwhelming by the sheer scale and magnificence of everything in this palace. Felicia's fingers would tingle to steal every small thing here.
"That bait was a little too obvious," Death said. "Why would he fall for it?"
"Because smart people live in their own heads. They think too much."
Even if Loki resisted, there would be no harm done. Dante could simply wait out the soul repair time and return home the hard way.
Death chuckled softly. "You don't think at all. Should I put you in the stupid category?"
"I do what feels right. Sometimes it's stupid. Sometimes it's good." He turned the corner and smiled faintly. "My stupidity is the reason we're like this."
"You are correct."
He stopped before one of the ornate doors and raised his hand. Before knocking, he confirmed something with Death, "Nat is inside, right?"
"She is."
He knocked twice and waited. Only those under Death's cloak could hear one another, so he wasn't worried about someone else finding out. Death's cloak worked by overlapping a separate pocket of reality over the real one. Even Loki, a great magician, wasn't able to tell the difference.
The door opened slowly as Natasha poked her head out. When she confirmed it was him, her shoulders loosened just slightly. She opened the door wider.
"You're back."
His mind stopped for a moment.
"Jeez," he whispered. "That looks amazing on you."
Natasha stood there fresh from a bath, red curls hair still slightly damp and swept over one shoulder. She had ditched her uniform and chose the dress stolen from the city.
The dress was a deep teal, strapless, with a strap tied around the waist. A high slit ran up one side, revealing her leg and the strapped, gladiator-like sandals. One shoulder was covered by an ornate golden pauldron, connected to a matching gold arm-guard wrapped around the other arm.
Natasha's lips parted briefly before her poker face came back. The faint pink at the tips of her ears betrayed her embarrassment. "Do you say that to every woman?"
"Only the ones I find attractive." He coughed, forcing his eyes up to her face. "We should talk inside."
Natasha stepped back and let him in before closing the door. "This one room is worth more than everything I've earned till now."
"Gods are like that. Death's realm is pretty cozy too." He sat down on the bed, finding the mattress quite soft and comfortable. "Guess where I am sleeping tonight?"
There were dozens of rooms like this in the palace. The place was too big for its own good, yet somehow every room was pristine. Asgardian technology was just on another level.
'Odin can hunt me out there. I'll be relaxing in his palace.'
Natasha sat by his side with a chuckle. "This one is mine. You find another."
"Come on. Why can't I sleep with my bride?" He paused. "Wait, that came out wrong."
She threw a pillow in his face and laughed. "That joke will blow up in your face one day."
"Worth it, probably."
Natasha punched his arm, showing a serious expression. "What did you say to Loki?"
She had been there when Odin and Heimdall talked about sending a search party for Death's Apostle. And she had seen Loki hiding with his magic, which was quite easily seen through under Death's cloak.
"You'll know soon." He lay on the bed, looking at the ceiling. "You know, Asgard is quite peaceful."
What a shame this real would all be burned and scattered into void at the hands of Surtr.
"People aren't struggling here to make ends meet, and there is no billionaire trying to destroy everything," she spoke slowly. "No mutants or monsters either."
"Mhmm. Peace is good, right?"
She shook her head. "I still need to settle a debt."
"The red in your ledger?" He put a pillow under his head, watching Natasha freeze up for a second. "What happened wasn't your fault."
She looked at her hands. "It happened with my hands. The responsibility is mine."
"I don't—"
"The magical steak was delicious." She forcefully diverted the talk away. "The best I ever had."
She had no desire to discuss her Red Room past. Not now at least.
"Well, I'm glad you liked it."
He had worked hard on that steak. Unfortunately, they had to abandon all that juicy meat in order to come here.
He closed his eyes for a small nap. Natasha, however, couldn't endure the silence.
"What will come out of this whole sneaking around the palace gig?"
"Death," he called out to his lover instead of answering Natasha. Sitting up on the bed, he asked, "What's the deal with you and Hela?"
She had only briefly mentioned Hela's name when he asked her about Odin. Now, he wanted the full picture.
The shadows near the window deepened. Death appeared there, framed by pale light, taking in the night view of Asgard.
"Hela was my Apostle. Someone I chose to deliver more souls to my domain," she whispered and closed the window, observing her reflection in the mirror. "And amuse me."
He would put all of his money on the reason being her entertainment. She had far too many places to harvest souls across the multiverse.
"Did you give her powers?"
"Power? I made her unstoppable." Death turned towards them and slowly nodded. "And I took it away. When she needed it the most, I made her powerless."
Natasha stared at Death. "Why would you do that?"
"She was going to kill too many and destroy the balance of this universe. For the greater multiverse, every universe must be looked after," Death said with a soft smile. "I was growing weary of her arrogance as well."
Natasha's mouth hung open without words. Death's mentality wasn't something a mortal could easily understand.
Dante leaned forward and clasped his hands under his chin. "Odin hates you because Hela became unstoppable as your apostle."
Death nodded once.
"And Hela hates you because of betrayal."
"Her resentment runs deep," Death admitted calmly. "If she were a mortal, she would cough up heart's blood and die."
He couldn't help but chuckle despite the circumstances. Her description made it sound like those old foggies in martial arts novels.
"Let me get this straight. I'm screwed if I use your powers anywhere."
Before Odin had no reason to observe Earth so Dante could safely use Death's powers. Now Odin would have Heimdall keep a close everywhere.
Death nodded again, this time showing a guilty expression.
He groaned, "Dammit."
His strongest trump card was rendered useless until both Hela and Odin died. And by then, he probably wouldn't need it anymore.
Natasha poked him with her elbow. "Don't be so down. You're powerful in that symbiote suit."
"You don't understand." He shook his head. "I can't afford to be weak."
If he was careless, all those he cared for would suffer. It wasn't a normal world where problems could be solved with money. He needed strength to survive and protect others. He needed strength for everything.
He cracked his knuckles. "It's time to lock in."
"Lock in hard. I've got a friend to rescue and a city to save."
"For my bride."
Natasha stared at him. "Whatever motivates you to get us out of here."
***
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