Chapter Text
Loki slowly turned a page, his expression entirely neutral. “An intriguing opening. What sort of mischief are you plotting?”
“This man named Ross is coming here soon with a file,” you whispered, your heart hammering. “With it is an encrypted flash drive. I need it gone. Destroyed, wiped, vaporized—I don't care.”
Loki’s brow arched subtly. He closed the book halfway, turning his eyes to you with a look of supreme skepticism. “A ‘drive’? What on Midgard is a drive? And why, pray tell, should I care about a mortal bureaucrat's pocket trinket? If the politicians wish to squabble over their primitive laws, let them.”
“No—Loki, you don’t get it.” You muttered. “I need that drive, Loki. Please. I have a reason, and it's the only way to stop what’s going to happen.”
Loki stared at you, his gaze searching your face. He didn't immediately give in. He leaned back, crossing his legs, his expression narrowing in deep suspicion. “And how exactly do you possess such highly specific foresight of an event that has yet to transpire, darling?”
“I can't explain it to you, Loki, I can’t. Just look at me—do I look like I'm joking?” You pleaded. “You’re the god of lies. You know I’m not lying.”
He studied the subtle tremor in your hands, the absolute desperation radiating off you that didn't match the quiet morning. For a second, a fleeting flash of genuine calculation crossed his features. “You ask for a great deal. Intercepting a high-ranking official's property under the noses of the Avengers? You know my fees for private contracting are quite steep.”
You almost rolled your eyes, but didn’t. “I’ll get you whatever you want later. Just tell me you can do it.”
“A mere purchase will not suffice,” Loki murmured, a slow, dangerous smirk finally tugging at the corner of his lips. “I want a favor. Unspecified. To be called upon whenever, and for whatever, I deem fit. Do we have a bargain?”
You didn't even hesitate. A blank check to the god of mischief was a terrifying prospect, but compared to a bullet to the head and a shattered family, it was nothing. “Yes. Deal.”
Loki held your gaze for another long moment before finally sighing through his nose. “Consider it done,” he whispered, his demeanor instantly returning to one of casual arrogance. “Make sure his eyes are on the Captain. I shall do what I must.”
Relief washed over you so intensely you almost sobbed. You stood up quickly, smoothing down your clothes just as Tony and Bruce came up from the lab.
“No, Banner, the output is fine,” Tony snapped. “You’re overcomplicating it again.”
Bruce sighed, rubbing his temples. “Tony, you ignored three safety protocols—”
“Who needs them! We’re Tony Stark and Bruce Banner. We don’t need safety protocols!” Tony shot back, automatically going towards the coffee machine.
You watched from where you were next to Loki as Tony poured himself coffee without even looking. Bruce looked around at everyone and gave a greeting.
“Oh, good morning,” Bruce said politely before grabbing a piece of toast for himself.
You didn't answer, your jaw tight as you watched the clock. Tony sipped his coffee aggressively, muttering about his equations, completely unaware of the absolute wreckage heading their way.
Steve firmly told Tony to sit down and offered to make him eggs, while Bucky leaned against the counter, watching quietly. The kitchen buzzed with their quiet activity for only a few moments before the inevitable track of the timeline caught up.
“Boss, General Ross has just appeared with an unannounced arrival with a UN task force.” Friday’s voice came over the kitchen.
Tony’s face instantly turned downcast.
“What?” he muttered, setting his coffee down so hard the mug clattered. Steve froze, his expression turning serious too.
“He’s currently on his way up.”
Tony groaned, rubbing his temples. “And, why did you let him up?”
Friday’s voice remained calm and professional. “He presented credentials and demanded an audience with you.”
Tony swore under his breath. “It’s fine, Tony. I’m sure he’s just here for a checkup,” Steve tried.
Tony scoffed. “Checkup. Right.” He stood up, abandoning his half-finished coffee. “Reindeer games, go to your room.”
“Pardon?” Loki asked from his seat.
Tony didn’t even look at him. “You,” he clarified sharply. “Go hide in your room like a good little prisoner.”
Loki’s jaw clenched—visibly offended. “Hide?” he repeated, voice dripping with disdain. “I am not some coward to cower at the sight of a mortal general.”
Tony pinched the bridge of his nose. “Loki, I swear to God, if you start shit with Ross today—”
“Tony,” Steve warned.
“What? Am I supposed to just let him stay here and let Ross freak out over him? Mind you—Fury is the only one that knows his royal ass is here—and this is our shit on the line,” Tony said. Steve exhaled, knowing Tony had a point.
Loki stood up smoothly, chin lifted in defiance. “If this Ross wishes to speak with me,” he said coolly, “then let him.”
“No, Loki. You need to go to your room,” you said, your voice cutting through the argument. You should probably try to keep things the same as before, if anything.
Loki turned his sharp gaze on you, pretending to be surprised you spoke up. For a moment, he looked like he was going to argue, playing his part perfectly. But as his eyes locked onto yours, a knowing glint flashed in them—a reminder of the bargain you had just struck.
He exhaled through his nose and gave the tiniest nod before walking toward the hallway without another word, leaving his magic behind to do the work.
Tony watched Loki go, then turned back to the group. “Alright. Showtime. Best behavior.”
The elevator dinged, and General Thaddeus Ross stepped out. He looked around the room, eyes landing on each of you—lingering a second too long on Bucky.
“Avengers,” he greeted.
Tony forced a polite smile, though his features remained completely flat. “General Ross.” His voice sounded hollow, carrying just enough civility to keep from starting an immediate screaming match.
Steve straightened his shoulders, offering the older man a tight, respectful nod.
“I apologize for barging in on you like this, but I assure you I have a good reason,” Ross said, taking a deliberate step closer to the group.
Tony crossed his arms, his posture defensive. “Yeah? What’s the good reason?”
Ross let his eyes drift across the kitchen, taking in everyone's tense expressions. “…How about we go somewhere more fitting for this discussion?”
Tony hesitated. He looked like he knew this was a trap, but refusing a government official outright would only invite a squad of lawyers to the front door.
“Fine,” Tony muttered through gritted teeth, gesturing toward the hall. “Living room.”
You followed the group into the sprawling living space. Ross claimed a spot on one of the central couches, while Tony and Steve sat directly opposite him. Bucky anchored himself right beside Steve’s chair, his face a completely unreadable mask, while Bruce sat stiffly next to Tony.
You stood off to the side, shifting your weight awkwardly. Your stomach twisted into painful knots, the total lack of breakfast leaving you feeling hollow and slightly lightheaded. But that didn’t matter.
You looked around the massive room, wondering where the hell everyone else was. Wanda, Pietro, Vision—they all deserved to be here. But Clint and Natasha were still deep on assignments from Fury, which sounded more like visiting Clint’s family. Ross cleared his throat, his sharp eyes flicking to you for a split second before he deliberately chose to look away.
Tony leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Alright,” he said bluntly. “What’s so important that you had to barge in here unannounced?”
“The Accords. Now, I know you all aren’t familiar with the subject, but I suggest you comply with them,” Ross said, unlatching his briefcase and pulling out a thick stack of papers.
Tony’s expression darkened instantly. “Accords?”
“Yes,” Ross said. His voice dropped an octave, carrying a practiced, heavy weight of authority as he slid the dense, leather-bound document across the glass coffee table. The words Sokovia Accords were stamped across the front cover in rigid black ink. “The world can no longer tolerate a private militia operating with impunity. You cross borders without permission, you leave billions of dollars of collateral damage in your wake, and frankly, Stark... you build artificial intelligences that nearly wipe out a country.”
Tony’s jaw locked. Next to him, Bruce flinched violently, his eyes dropping straight to his shoes. He looked completely swallowed by guilt, the fresh trauma of Ultron clearly weighing on his shoulders.
“We protect people, General,” Steve countered, his voice remarkably steady despite the hard, defensive line of his posture.
“Do you?” Ross challenged, leaning back into the cushions and lacing his fingers together. “Or do you just move on to the next disaster while the rest of the world buries its dead? The United Nations has decided. You either sign these documents, agreeing to operate under government oversight, or you retire. Effective immediately.”
Steve exhaled a slow, controlled breath, clearly fighting to keep his composure. “Government oversight?” he repeated carefully. “You want us—Avengers—to report directly to politicians who don’t understand our missions? Who might politicize life-or-death decisions?”
Ross’s expression hardened into granite. “The Avengers are not above the law, Rogers,” he snapped.
“We aren't trying to be,” Steve said, his voice remaining level, though a muscle in his jaw ticked violently. “But what happens if this panel sends us somewhere we don’t think we should go? What if there’s a crisis somewhere they won’t let us go? We have to take responsibility for our actions, General, but giving up our right to choose is just shifting the blame.”
Ross scoffed, a dry, humorless sound rattling in his chest. “You think you have a choice. That’s adorable, Captain. But the world is tired of Washington letting a band of billionaires and super-soldiers play god.”
Tony’s fists clenched so tightly his knuckles turned white. He looked like he was about to explode—this was everything he loathed. Control. Politics. Bureaucrats dictating the terms of his tech and his team.
“Oh yeah?” Tony shot back, cutting off whatever Steve was about to say next. “Then why didn’t the UN stop us when aliens were invading? Or when an army of robots tried to kill everyone? You weren’t exactly lining up to give us orders then.”
Ross’s face twisted into an ugly sneer. “Because you were effective,” he said through gritted teeth. “But effectiveness doesn’t mean unaccountability. You think the people of Sokovia—those who lost everything because of Ultron—care about your heroic track record? They want justice.”
Tony looked physically pained at that, a flicker of raw sorrow flashing across his face before he forced his cocky mask back on. His eyes suddenly darted toward Bucky, then flicked straight to you. “And what about the ones who aren't official Avengers? What happens to the civilians and the guests under our roof?”
Ross smiled, a chillingly satisfied expression. “I’m glad you asked, Mr. Stark,” he said, reaching back down into his briefcase. “Because the Accords don’t just regulate heroes. They regulate threats. And according to our intelligence, this tower is currently harboring several unregistered, high-risk anomalies.”
“High-risk anomalies?” Steve echoed, his entire frame going rigid. He instinctively stepped a few inches forward, a subtle but undeniable movement that placed his large build directly between Ross and your line of sight.
Ross didn't blink. He pulled a secondary, much thinner folder from his briefcase and tossed it carelessly onto the glass table. It slid directly in front of Tony.
“Let's talk about your latest houseguest,” Ross said, his eyes locking onto yours with cold, analytical detachment. “No birth certificate. No social security number. No operational history with any known intelligence agency. You simply dropped out of nowhere, yet our instruments picked up a massive spike in anomalous cosmic energy around you.”
Tony’s eyes flew over the data sheets, his defensive snark completely vanishing, replaced by a sharp, protective intensity. “She’s not an anomaly. She’s a person.”
“She is an unregistered entity holding weaponized cosmic force,” Ross corrected harshly, his tone brooking no argument. “Section 4, Paragraph 7 of the Accords states that any enhanced individual without a sovereign identity or verifiable origin is classified as a Tier-1 threat. By law, she does not qualify for civilian rights. She is to be remanded into federal custody for evaluation and containment. Immediately.”
Beside you, Bucky’s hand dropped straight to his side. His flesh fingers curled into a lethal fist while his metal arm emitted a faint, high-pitched whirr as it tensed for a fight. He didn't speak, but his weight shifted, looking entirely ready to tear apart anyone who made a move toward you.
“That’s not happening,” Steve said. “She stays under our roof. Under our protection.”
“You don't have the authority to grant asylum, Captain,” Ross countered, standing up to match Steve's height, seemingly unfazed by the super-soldier. “Mr. Stark, you’re a businessman. Look at the numbers. You keep hiding her; you’re harboring a fugitive. The entire team goes to a black site before the ink on these documents is even dry.”
Tony closed your file with a sharp, echoing snap. “I’ve got a lot of money, Thaddeus, and a lot of lawyers. If you want her, you’ll have to sue me for her. And good luck serving a subpoena to a guy who flies a gold-titanium suit.”
For a second, the team stood as an absolute wall. Even Bruce remained locked in his corner, arms crossed, a dark, warning shadow in his eyes that suggested exactly how dangerous it would be to push him any further.
Ross looked around the room, taking in the unified front. He didn't look angry. Instead, a slow, terrible satisfaction crept into his expression.
“I figured you’d all play the righteous family card,” Ross murmured, reaching into his pocket.
Your breath hitched in your throat as his fingers wrapped around the small, metal object. It was fine. Loki had dealt with it, right?
Ross pulled out the flash drive. From your spot on the side, you couldn't see any green magic, but you knew Loki’s illusion had to be active. Your nails dug into your skin.
“You think you’re a unit. You think you’re protecting each other,” Ross said, stepping up to the lab console built into the coffee table. He plugged the drive straight into the port, taking a step back to let the main holo-monitor fill the space. “But families are built on trust. And you can’t trust a ghost.”
The main holo-monitor blinked, cutting through the ambient blue light of the room.
You held your breath, preparing for the grainy, moonlit road from 1991.
Instead, the screen stayed black.
Ross froze. The smug, self-satisfied look on his face completely withered. He stared at the giant red error message, his brow furrowing in absolute disbelief. He stepped forward, aggressively tapping the console, but the screen just blinked the same dark screen.
Tony arched a single brow, a look of genuine surprise crossing his features before a sharp, mocking grin took over. “Wow, Thaddeus. The multi-billion dollar government budget can’t even buy a working flash drive? What was it supposed to be, a scary slideshow?”
Ross’s face flushed an incredibly dark, furious red. He yanked the drive out of the slot, staring at it as if it had personally insulted him. He looked up at Tony, his eyes burning with absolute rage. “This isn't over, Stark. You think you can manipulate federal evidence?”
“I didn't touch your thumb drive, General! You brought a dud to show-and-tell!” Tony fired back, stepping up to match his glare.
You let out a jagged, trembling breath, the sheer weight of relief almost knocking you off your feet. The video hadn't played. It was fine. Everything was fine. You had time. But as Ross began furiously packing his briefcase, barking orders to his guards to prepare a secondary file, you knew the clock was already ticking.
Loki’s magic had worked—flawlessly.
The flash drive was useless now, the data inside it obliterated by an illusion so convincing even Ross couldn't tell it was a fake. The man looked livid, his face purpling with rage as he snapped at his guards to leave immediately.
Tony didn’t let him get far, though. “You don’t just waltz in here accusing one of my people of being some kind of weapon and then storm out like that!” He stepped right into Ross's space, all billionaire arrogance on full display.
Ross turned back around sharply. "Your people?" He repeated mockingly before jabbing a finger toward you again. "That thing is not your 'person,' Stark! Her existence alone defies everything! Do you even know who’s living under your roof?”
“That ‘thing,’ as you so kindly call her,” Tony said slowly, each word sharp enough to cut steel, “is my guest. She has done nothing wrong except exist without your permission.”
Ross scoffed. "She's an unknown variable! No records? No origin? The energy signatures around her could level cities if she sneezes wrong!"
Steve stepped forward again. "You're assuming she's a threat because you don't understand what she is," Steve countered calmly.
Bucky remained silent beside them both—still and watchful as a predator waiting for its moment to strike.
Bruce finally spoke up too from where he sat: “General… if there were any real danger here… we would’ve known by now.” His tone wasn't defensive; it just stated fact plainly.
Ross scoffed. “Oh, you want to talk about danger, Mr. Smash?”
Bruce’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t rise to the bait. He knew Ross was deliberately provoking them—pushing buttons, testing how far they'd go.
Tony, on the other hand? “You don't get to call him that.” Tony stepped forward again so aggressively that Ross actually took half a step back this time. “You don’t get to come into my home, insult my team like that and then try to snatch one of them away because you're scared of something you don't even understand!”
Ross opened his mouth to deliver what undoubtedly would have been another venomous retort, but the heavy glass doors to the living area slid open, cutting him off. Wanda and Pietro stepped into the room, their expressions dark.
Wanda’s fingers were already twitching slightly, faint hints of scarlet energy pooling at her fingertips as she took in the sight of the armed guards. Pietro stood a half-step ahead of her, his shoulders tense and coiled like a spring, looking ready to disarm the entire tactical team before they could even register his movement.
“Is there a problem here?” Wanda asked, Ross’s eyes flicked to the twins, his jaw tightening further. Before he could answer, the air above them rippled slightly, and Vision floated down smoothly through the ceiling. His density shifted as his boots clicked softly against the floorboards, the Mind Stone on his forehead gleaming with a quiet, observant light.
“General Ross,” Vision announced calmly, his voice acting as an immediate counterweight to the hostility vibrating through the room. “Your presence here was not scheduled, nor is the hostility of your men warranted.”
Ross looked like he was about to burst a blood vessel, surrounded on all sides by the very individuals he was trying to put on a leash. He took a slow step back, gripping his briefcase tighter. “You’re all proving my point,” Ross hissed, his gaze sweeping across the room. “A rogue faction operating under its own rules.”
Tony crossed his arms, unimpressed. "And what's your point, General? That we’re too effective? Too organized without you telling us what to do?" His voice was laced with sarcasm.
Ross swallowed hard before forcing out through clenched teeth: “This is an official inspection under Section 4-12A of the Sokovia Accords.” He gestured sharply at Wanda and Pietro. “These two are unregistered enhanced individuals operating outside sovereign jurisdiction.”
“They’re Maximoffs,” Tony snapped back instantly—not angrily anymore; just coldly factual now that backup had arrived.
“I don’t care who they are!” Ross barked.
Bucky finally spoke up then—a low growl rumbling from his chest. “Then leave.”
Ross’s face twisted into something ugly—disbelief, fury, and the creeping realization that he had walked into a room full of people who wouldn’t let him take you.
“You can't just refuse federal oversight!” Ross shouted.
Wanda stepped forward next to Steve this time, her scarlet magic now fully visible as it swirled around her hands like living tendrils. “Try taking her or anyone else,” she said softly—but every word dripped with lethal promise. “See what happens.”
Ross’s mouth opened—then closed again. For the first time since he walked in, genuine uncertainty flickered across his face.
Vision floated slightly higher, placing himself between Ross and you almost instinctively—a silent but unmistakable shield.
Tony finally broke the tense silence with a sharp smirk. “You heard my teammates.” His arms uncrossed as he took another step forward too—closing ranks around you completely. “Get out.”
Ross’s face turned an even deeper shade of red—if that was even possible. He looked around the room—at Steve, at Tony, at Wanda’s glowing magic and Pietro vibrating with barely contained speed-force energy—and realized that he was outgunned. Outmanned. Outnumbered, outplanned. He couldn’t take an all out stand anymore. His mouth worked soundlessly for a second before he finally snapped his briefcase shut with a sharp click.
"Fine," Ross spat out like venom. "You'll hear about this." He jabbed a finger toward Tony again before turning on his heel.
His tactical team moved instantly to flank him as they marched back toward the elevator—none of them daring to make eye contact with any Avenger as they passed.
The elevator doors slid shut with a heavy, metallic clang, swallowing General Ross and his tactical team. The sudden absence of their suffocating presence left the living room ringing with a tense, vibrating silence.
Then, the collective breath of the room finally released. Wanda’s hands dropped to her sides, the scarlet tendrils of her magic evaporating into thin air, though her dark eyes remained fixed on the empty elevator shaft. Pietro relaxed his coiled stance, rolling his shoulders with a quiet, restless huff, while Vision floated gently back down until his boots touched the floorboards, his posture shifting from a shield to an anchor.
Tony let out a long, ragged exhale that sounded like it had been trapped in his lungs for a century. He didn't look victorious. He looked completely exhausted, the billionaire arrogance melting off his features to reveal a deep, haunted worry. He rubbed a hand over his face, his fingers lingering on his temples as if trying to physically press down a massive headache.
“Great. Fantastic. Love a good morning ambush,” Tony muttered, though the usual bite in his sarcasm was entirely missing. He dropped his hand and turned around, his gaze tracking past Steve, past Bucky, until it locked directly onto you.
Tony looked sick. His eyes were wide, filled with a sudden, overwhelming cocktail of confusion and protective panic as he stared at you like he was seeing a ghost. “Energy signatures that could level cities?” he repeated softly, stepping around the glass coffee table, his boots clicking heavily against the floor. “Aether spikes? Care to elaborate on what the hell he was talking about, kid?”
Steve turned his head toward you too, his brow furrowed with a deep, crushing concern. He didn't look angry—just profoundly desperate to understand the danger Ross had just threatened to lock you away for.
“I—I don’t know! We all know the same thing! The Aether went into me, had a short stay, and then got removed!” You said. “There have been a few instances where its powers kicked in, but that’s it. I can’t control it or anything.” You lied. Another lie. You were starting to lose count.
Tony stared at you, his eyes scanning your face. He let out a sharp, breathless laugh that had no humor in it. “A short stay,” he repeated, his voice dropping into a quieter register. “Kid, Ross's tech is picking up remnants that can level an entire city block. You're walking around with a massive target on your back.”
Steve took a step closer, his brow furrowed deeply as he tried to wrap his head around your words. “We know that it sparked up with Thor and Killian,” Steve said slowly, his voice calm but tight. “But is there anything else? Ross wants you in federal custody immediately, so we need to know the whole story.”
Wanda’s head snapped toward you, her eyes narrowing. Beside her, Pietro looked completely thrown, his gaze darting from your hands to your face. “You have powers?” Pietro asked, breaking the silence. He looked at his sister, bewildered. “Since when? I thought you were the civilian here!”
You opened your mouth—then closed it again, struggling to find the right words. “It’s… complicated,” you admitted weakly.
Tony pinched the bridge of his nose again, exhaling through gritted teeth like a man who had just been handed another apocalyptic problem on top of an already overflowing plate. “Complicated isn’t gonna cut it when Ross comes back.”
The weight of everyone's eyes felt exactly like the concrete walls of that interrogation room closing in again. Your chest tightened. “I don’t know what you want me to say! It’s the Aether’s fault for imprinting on me; I haven’t even seen it show up since Killian.” You lied again. But there was no way you were going to tell them about the sorcerers now.
Steve softened immediately at your tone. “We’re not blaming you,” he said firmly.
“It kinda sounds like you are.” You mumbled, frowning.
Wanda stepped forward, curious as she studied you like a puzzle missing pieces only she could see clearly. “Imprinting?” She repeated slowly, tilting her head slightly to one side. “Like… how?”
You sighed. “It’s a long story.” One that you didn’t want to tell. There had been too many deaths. You didn’t want to think about it any longer.
“One that I know of!” Thor yelled from the hallway as he suddenly appeared with Loki under his arm. “She was very helpful with the Aether!”
Thor strode into the room, still holding Loki by the elbow—his brother looking distinctly unamused at being manhandled like a misbehaving child.
Loki’s sharp green eyes immediately locked onto you, scanning your face for any sign of distress before flickering over to Ross’ abandoned seat.
“You spoke with that mortal,” Loki stated flatly, not as a question but as an observation.
Thor let go of Loki with an irritated huff before turning toward you. “We had a visitor? Apologies, I was… occupied. You all seem very on edge. Did he harm you?” His voice was deep and thunderous in its concern.
Loki ignored Thor’s question, his gaze never leaving you. As if he could sense the tension in the room—the aftermath of a confrontation. He was probably watching the whole thing play out.
Tony exhaled sharply, rubbing his temples again. "No. Ross was here," he said by way of explanation to Thor and Loki. “He tried taking her.” He said, nodding to you.
Thor’s face twisted into a snarl, his hands curling into fists. “He what?”
“He showed up with documents,” Tony continued bitterly, gesturing to where Ross had stood. “The Sokovia Accords.”
“That’s absurd. Does he truly have the power to do that?” Loki asked.
Tony scoffed, throwing his hands up. “Apparently! They voted it in—government oversight for all enhanced individuals.”
Loki’s expression darkened dangerously at that, his lips pressing into a thin line. Thor looked equally furious—but more confused than anything else. “But… she is not even a hero. Official, that is.” He said, giving you an apologetic look.
Steve spoke. “Ross called her an 'unregistered threat' and demanded federal custody."
Loki’s jaw clenched so tight you could practically hear his teeth grinding. “And?” Loki asked, though it was clear from his tone that he already knew the answer.
Tony crossed his arms again, shoulders stiff with defiance. “Told him to screw off.”
"A rare intelligent decision," Loki responded.