I’ve been having trouble working on my long WIPs because they’re sitting there on AO3 being all long and unfinished and it’s kind of intimidating. So I thought maybe the way to get back into writing fanfiction was with a short little Tumblr fic. And since I got a little beetle in my brain after reading something, I thought I’d try writing it up and see if I can break through the writer’s block.

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Loki was gazing out at the unmoving stars through the wall-sized window in what seemed like the only empty room on the ship, probably because it seemed to have no other purpose than as a viewing platform for the unchanging scenery. He had many reasons to hate and fear this view of the endless blackness of space, but he could not afford to let them master him. So he looked out at the star-strewn dark and thought not about falling into a darker hole in the darkness, not about the dramatic backdrop behind Thanos’s massive throne on Sanctuary, but instead about all the strange worlds out there where he could have made his fortune, thrived even, if he did not feel bound to Thor… and yes, even to Asgard, which he had to admit was the closest thing he’d ever had to a home. And if Asgard was its people, then he was home now, though he could not make himself feel it.

When he heard the sound of boot-shod feet behind him, he assumed it was Thor; anyone else would probably turn around and walk away when they saw him standing here alone. So when it was Heimdall’s smooth bass, molten gold like his eyes, that said “Good evening, my prince,” Loki startled a little… though not visibly; he was careful of that.

“What do you want?” Loki said shortly, not turning.

“Only to gaze at the stars, as you do, Your Highness,” Heimdall replied, unruffled. “Why do you assume that I must want something in particular?”

Now Loki turned to fix him with an unimpressed stare. “Under present circumstances, I see no more point in dissembling. You don’t like me. You don’t trust me. Why pretend otherwise?”

Heimdall nodded slowly. “It is true that I do not entirely trust you; and you must admit that that is simple prudence, in light of my experience. But that doesn’t mean that I don’t like you.”

Loki scoffed, then turned back toward the window and didn’t grant that claim the distinction of a further response.

“Perhaps ‘like’ is putting it too strongly,” Heimdall conceded. “But I do admire you, greatly; I long have. That you found those secret pathways between the worlds, and kept them concealed from me, as young as you are—it is extraordinary.”

“Thank you…?” Loki ventured.

“Neither is it true that I dislike you,” Heimdall added.

“You’d have reason enough,” Loki said sharply. “I froze you solid, I banished you…”

“But you did not kill me when you could have,” Heimdall put in, still even-toned. Loki turned toward him abruptly, eyebrows furrowed; the thought had not even occurred to him. (It had occurred to him to try to have Heimdall killed after he had flouted the banishment order, but Heimdall’s unique abilities of course made that a futile effort.) “And besides, I do not take such things personally,” Heimdall continued placidly. “I have some idea of why you did what you did.”

“And to understand all is to forgive all?” Loki said, unable to keep the sarcasm from his tone.

Stupidly, he half expected Heimdall to be as confused as Thor was when Loki dropped Midgardian references, but of course Heimdall didn’t bat an eye. “Not to forgive all, no,” he said. “Nor can I rightly say that I ‘understand all.’ But knowing the full context of a person’s actions… does make it easier to take their perspective, and correspondingly harder to hate, even where blame is due.”

“Well. That’s good to know,” Loki said dryly, turning back toward the window.

“There is one thing you thought you had concealed from me that you did not, entirely,” Heimdall said after a pause.

Loki’s heart seemed to stop; his face felt cold and numb as all the blood drained from it, and he tasted bile when he tried to swallow his sudden nausea. “Oh?” he said with affected casualness, though it was vain to hope that Heimdall had not seen his discomposure or the increase in his usual pallor in his reflection in the window.

“It is what I think you fear it is… but you need not fear. In this case, to understand all truly is to forgive all… or rather, not to forgive, because forgiveness presupposes blame for a wrongdoing, and here I cannot blame, or think that anyone has done wrong.”

Again, Loki had to turn and stare at him. Was he even talking about what Loki thought he was talking about? If so, how could he be so calm and impassive about it?

“I have lived three thousand years and seen into trillions of lives. I know love when I see it. And you love each other in every way there is; what you did was always done from love.”

Loki’s eyes narrowed. It certainly sounded as if Heimdall meant what he thought he meant. What was he up to? Why was he saying this?

“No, Your Highness, I do not intend to threaten or blackmail you,” he said, almost as if he could read Loki’s mind through his eyes (and he was practiced enough at reading facial expressions that he probably could, Loki reflected). “And there is much else I could use if I did—things that would not also put my king at risk. I am telling you this to explain why I do not, cannot dislike you, in such a way that you will believe it. Thor loves you, and you love him—enough that you came back for him, even when he had no right to expect it.”

Now Loki’s eyes widened and his eyebrows shot up. Heimdall had seen what had transpired on Sakaar—and thought that Thor had no right to expect Loki’s return?

“He is only a man, though the mortals may call us gods, and he can be cruel. Sometimes a king must be cruel—he knows that—but vengeance and petty cruelty must be beneath him. He will learn that, too.”

“We can only hope,” Loki muttered.

“Do not pretend that you don’t harbor your share of it,” Heimdall admonished.

“I don’t—pretend, that is,” Loki rejoined. “I never have.” Heimdall only smiled.

Loki coughed uncomfortably and then asked, against his better judgment, “How much have you seen?”

Heimdall laughed, a low rumble like a waterfall in a distant canyon. “Don’t worry, I’m not so prurient as to stop and watch—though I got something of an eyeful the few times you lost hold of your illusion, I always quickly turned my attention elsewhere.”

“Why, were you looking for us when we disappeared from view?” Loki asked… certainly not for future reference on how to more effectively hide his activities from the Watchman.

“No, I did not notice that you had vanished, unless I was looking for one of you for some other reason. Rather it was… when you abruptly reappeared from the concealing illusion, it was like a rapid movement at the periphery of my vision. It was almost impossible not to look, even if I suspected what it was.”

“Well, that’s horribly embarrassing,” was all Loki could think to say.

“So… maybe it would save us both some trouble if instead of casting a concealing illusion you would just… make some signal when you want me not to glance in your direction for the next few hours.”

“What kind of signal?”

“You could… I don’t know, draw the Haglaz rune in the air.”

“And that’s definitely not a signal that the show is about to start and you should grab the popcorn…?”

Heimdall sighed. “I would be indignant if I thought it even remotely possible that you’re being serious.”

Loki laughed. “Haglaz rune it is.” And maybe if he wanted to do anything devious, he thought, he should make sure to do it in the few hours after a quick rendezvous with Thor.