The debris of New York City lay strewn outside the window as a different kind of conflict stirred within Stark Tower. The Avengers had narrowly stopped Loki’s invasion, though he was now in a cell; shackled and silent. Tony Stark paced the room, his mind racing with schemes as he tossed a glance towards the others — Thor, Steve, Bruce, Natasha, and Clint — their faces etched with determination. Each had taken their turn at trying to pry information from Loki, utilizing everything from brute force to psychological games. All tactics had yielded nothing but smug silence and insufferable riddles. Even Thor, his brother, had failed to succeed in any sense.

Loki was the god of mischief, after all, and his stubbornness was matched only by the cunning of his mind. As the Avengers theorised, Thor let a little piece of information slip: Loki was married. Not just to anyone, but to you. A Goddess and a name that echoed through the halls of Asgard like a haunting melody. Your reputation preceded you and it was common knowledge that Loki would do absolutely anything for you. If you asked for it, it happened, anything you wanted was yours. He adored you and loved you desperately with a constant need to please you. The room settled with silent realisation and suddenly the plan was set into motion.

Meanwhile, you were in Asgard, blissfully unaware of the chaos swirling in Midgard. But peace wouldn’t last. It never did. And soon, you were called down to New York with nothing but the knowledge of your husbands imprisonment. The whole room of heroes looked up at the sound of your footsteps, deliberately choosing to ignore the anxiety written across Thors features.