In reply to one of the reviews, my naming the baby Magni doesn't mean the boy is the result of some Thorki. Not in this story. Moreover, I don't write slash. Now, about his mother... All will be revealed in due time. :)

Of course, I can see why Thor was suspected. When I was looking for a suitable name, I happened upon the one I eventually went for: Magni. Only later did I learn about Thor (in the myths) having a son named Magni. Trust me, this was pure coincidence. However, I chose to leave it be.

Anyway, here's the next chapter. I hope you'll all enjoy it.

Chapter 2: Shakespeare in the Park

December 2012, New York

"Catch this!" The tall youngster yelled cheerily at his companions as he let go of a snowball.

When he saw his projectile hit its target, he punched the air with a raucously victorious shout. "Bull's eye!"

Laughing, the lanky raven haired youth let himself go down on his side in the snow covering the largest of the glacier rocks in Central Park. He slid, at the same time stretching his hand out to scoop some snow for a new ball. Coming to a halt, he half raised himself to his knees and unerringly aimed a ball for the another boy, hitting him square on his face. Calmly collecting more snow, he once more patted the mass until it had the right form, ducking as a snowball sailed his way, narrowly missing his head.

"You definitely need some more target practice, Malfroid!" Magni yelled out gleefully as he tossed his ball again without missing.

Standing up to his full height on top of the Umpire Rock, he uttered a battle cry and shook his fists in the air.

"Keeeeeyyaaaaahhhhh! I'm the King of the Nooooooorrrrth!"

His friends stopped the snowball battle and cheered the self-proclaimed King of the North. They knew him well enough to enjoy his penchant for drama. He loved the Classics...and Game of Thrones.

He loped and then leapt down the stony remnant of a bygone ice age so sure-footed they all believed he could actually fly if he chose to do so. Such ease and grace never went unnoticed and his friends both hated and loved him for his natural panache.

When one of the boys missed his footing on an icy patch, Magni was quick to thrust out a hand and steady the other.

"Watch your footing, Colin."

Jeremy was not amused. He'd been on the receiving end of his choir mate's pranks since the St. George's Boys' Choir left England on this educational trip to New York. Right now, he seemed to be a most unwilling target for every snowball that came sailing through the air.

However, Jeremy realized only too well he'd deserved it. One just didn't mess with Magni Lokason. It had seemed such a good idea, at the time, to embarrass his choir mate by handing him the wrong vocal scores sheet. It was the right piece alright. However, Mr Partridge, the choir conductor, had made some changes and the sheets which Magni Lokason held for the general Christmas carols rehearsal turned out to be the original scores. So, when that part came when the descants were supposed to sing, an extra voice stood out, enthusiastically singing completely different notes and a little off-key as realisation struck.

Magni was one of the seniors of St. George's Boys' Choir and, since his highly pitched childhood treble had already broken, his voice still was of such a quality that he was permitted to stay on as one of the supportive tenors.

Nobody had ever seen Lokason as angered as he was that day. He was livid and although he'd laughed it away in seemingly good humour, he swore to himself there'd be pay-back where it concerned this arrogant toff, Jeremy Malfroid.

The snowball game was fast getting out of hand and Jeremy was flagging to the point he went down on his knees in front of Lokason, begging the tall boy to please to have mercy and stop the relentless onslaught of frozen projectiles.

The boys had ended up standing beneath the Umpire Rock.

"Look, Jeremy..."

Whatever Magni was going to say was cut off by a small avalanche of snow tumbling down from the rock, almost burying Jeremy. In all probability, someone above had inadvertently caused some of the snow to come loose. Gravity took care of the rest, landing a considerable amount of it on top of the unsuspecting person standing in its path.

"... Okay... What was I about to say again? Anyway, c'mon, lads, let's get him from under there lest he starts to see some snow fairies!"

Giving a little shake of the head, Magni rushed towards Jeremy and started brushing the snow off the other boy.

"Damn you, Lokason!" Malfroid blurted out and gave the tall boy a shove and with that, he walked away, back to the hotel they were staying.

Magni held up his hands in denial, though his face spoke volumes he rather enjoyed the situation.

"Wow! Don't look at me. I didn't do a thing!"

One of the other boys patted him on the shoulder. "We know, Loki. Just don't get yourself into any more mischief, would you?"

"Don't call me that, Robertson!" Magni hissed at the other boy. Since his friends had watched the Thor movie, they'd thought it a most novel idea to start calling him Loki.

As for Magni, he had done all to avoid going to that movie.

"Loawwww-keeeee! Hehehe!"

Magni rolled his eyes and turned around, staring at the mass of rock.

"I don't understand why you're so opposed to being called that, Magni. Why! Isn't it part of your surname. I'd be flattered. The guy's quite popular, you know?" Peter West laughed.

None of the boys noticed the well dressed man and his lady taking in this little scene as they were standing on the path, their stroll in the park interrupted.

"Especially since it's Tom Hiddles playing Loki. "I am Loki of Asgard and I'm burdened with glorious purpose!" I bet he is!" Peter laughed.

When no witty reply came from his friend, he went on. "Hey! I distinctly recall you acclaiming him as loud as everyone present for his impressive acting when we went to watch Cymbeline."

"I agree his portrayal of Posthumus was memorable. As was his Prince Hal and Henry V. A true Shakespearean."

"Time to head back. I think I'd fancy a swim in the pool and relax in the jacuzzi. After that, I'm ready for one of your eloquent monologues or Henry V's soliloquy among others, I'm sure. "Once more unto the breach!" Come on, Magni."

Peter had already started off.

"Magni?"

When he got no response from his friend, Peter turned around, not at all surprised when his friend was nowhere to be seen.

"Oh hell! Here we go again!" Peter muttered, giving himself a mental kick not to mention Shakespeare ever again to Magni Lokason. However, he retraced his steps back to where he'd last seen Magni.

And he wasn't disappointed: there his friend was, already atop the massive rock, his green penetrating gaze slowly traveling all around as if he were surveying the world at his feet.

"There lies a downy feather which stirs not.
Did he suspire, that light and weightless down
Perforce must move. My gracious lord! My father!
This sleep is sound indeed, this is a sleep
That from this golden rigol hath divorc'd
So many English kings. Thy due from me
Is tears and heavy sorrows of the blood,
Which nature, love, and filial tenderness
Shall, O dear father, pay thee plenteously.
My due from thee is this imperial crown,
Which as immediate from thy place and blood,
Derives itself to me."

Magni inserted a pause for drama, his eyes shifting from staring in the distance to the people who, he suddenly noticed, had gathered below him.

Peter stared for a while, open mouthed, then snickered as a particular scene from the movie sprang to mind.

"Kneel! I said: KNEEEEEELLLLLLL!"

Oh, he could so very much hear his friend say that line. Pushing this ridiculous thought aside, he stood amongst the crowd, enjoying the moment, knowing how Magni liked to show off this talent of his.
Magni went on, his carrying voice taking on a note of pride; eyes looking at a spot off in space where he imagined the King's crown was sitting on the sick old man's pillow. His hands moved as if to lift the golden, bejeweled crown from beside the King's head.

"Lo where it sits,
Which God shall guard; and put the world's whole strength
Into one giant arm, it shall not force
This lineal honor from me. This from thee
Will I to mine leave, as 'tis left to me."

Peter couldn't help but stare in rapt admiration. The stage had lost a great thespian.

"Bravo!"

A swarthy man, in his late thirties or early forties – Peter found it hard to determine the man's age – and sporting a well mustache and groomed goatee, clapped his gloved hands, applauding the young man's performance. His action was soon followed by the other bystanders.

Magni, beaming with pleasure, stooped into an exaggerated bow.

"Thank you!"

However, when Magni finally observed the odd, somewhat calculating, expression on the man's face, he was not a little puzzled. Something felt off and he wondered if he'd somehow managed to botch the part. Hadn't the man just acclaimed his performance? Why then the wariness? An underlying current of ...hostility? Magni couldn't put a finger on what it was, but it was definitely there. He had a sixth sense for those things.

With as much grace and dignity he could muster on the slippery rock surface, Magni made his way down and slowly approached the man and woman who stood alone after the spectators had walked on. His debonair bearing became more obvious with every step he took until he stood face to face with the couple. He was not going to allow himself be intimidated by the man's behaviour.

"Bit of an ego, Bambi?" The man said with a smirk.

"Bambi?" Magni asked, puzzled. "I can't quite follow, sir. Would you please elaborate?"

"I believe your name is Lokason? As in son of Loki? Didn't I catch one of your friends call you Loki a little earlier?"

"I think," Peter whispered in his friend's ear, "he saw the Thor movie; or rather The Avengers. I believe he refers to Loki's nickname, Reindeer Games... Loki's helmet...with the horns..."

"What?" Magni asked, incredulous.

He spun around to address the man again with a slight tilt of his head, his green eyes suddenly turning icy like a gletscher pool. "Ego? Me?"

Now Peter, feeling the tension, was becoming increasingly uneasy. Something was definitely going on, here. "Call no man foe, but never love a stranger."

"Your braggadocio performance was rather over the top standing...atop...Umpire Rock. Think you're above everyone else?"

Stark was gratified to see a furious blush spread over the boy's face, a testimony of his unbridled indignation. "Hmmm... A quick temper, there."

"Never mind. I believe we have a mutual acquaintance. Oh, where are my manners." He thrust out his hand, after he'd taken off his glove. "I'm Tony Stark. Not sure if I can say I'm pleased to meet you," Stark said with a fake smile.

The woman standing by involuntarily cast a nervous glance towards her companion. She couldn't help but find this situation slightly unnerving. Magni, instantly recognising her awkwardness, softened his gaze and, after a short moment of hesitation, he gave a brief lighthearted chuckle and shook the man's proffered hand, at the same time boring his gaze into Tony Stark's brown eyes.

"Magni Lokason, but you already know as you no doubt overheard my friends call me. Now, about this mutual acquaintance; you're losing me there. Who is this mysterious person?"

"I...think I'll leave it to you to find out. Maybe it'll be a surprise, maybe not."

To all but Magni, the temperature seemed suddenly to have dropped a few degrees. But then, the spell was broken as Magni with a bored air checked his watch, and turned towards his friend.

"Come, Peter. I'm ready here and we really should be going. Our friends will be wondering what takes us so long to rejoin them."

He then grinned broadly, patting his friend's shoulder.

Stark called after them. "Until we meet again, Loki's son!"

For all his outward calm appearance, he couldn't shake this unexplainable sense of foreboding, so, on the walk back to the hotel, he kept pondering about the strange man.

Who was this man, beyond the fact that his name was Tony Stark? Judging by his posh clothes and his overall demeanour, he seemed pretty loaded.

Note: The quote: "Call no man foe, but never love a stranger" is by Stella Benson

I realise I didn't write Stark very well and I apologise. His type of humour is sans pareil and I don't know the Avengers universe that well...yet.