Chapter 2: The Last King of Asgard
YES, there is plot. There is soooo much plot. I can't believe I'm putting this much thought into a pairing that has no basis whatsoever (other than Benedict and Tom being utterly gorgeous)
Well, it's definitely getting out of control. I hope you all enjoy the product of my madness.
Midgard isn't how Loki remembered, as he floats above the city of London, veiled in invisibility. The buildings of stone and brick have all been replaced with sky-reaching towers—glassy, and metallic, and glistening in sunset hues. But the humans at any rate are still the same, so very Midgardian the way they swarm in their streets mindlessly and indifferently, the only indication that Loki is on Midgard at all. From above, they look like ants.
He wonders where—or when—Eitri's sands have taken him. This must be the future, with Midgardian civilization so outwardly advanced, Starfleet in lieu of SHIELD, Captain Kirk in lieu of the Avengers. But the question is how far? After all, he is still on Midgard, and humans have always been known for their fast-paced evolution, catalyzed by fragile bones and transient lives. Loki wonders if Thor is the king of Asgard now, and if himself—the future Loki—is captured, or even killed yet. Is that why no one came for him during the indefinite hours he had slept on that human ship, shield-less and vulnerable? The young god wonders where he stands in this new world.
London is easy enough to navigate, the Kelvin Memorial Archive prominent enough of a landmark that Loki manages to find just by following a few signs. He spots Khan on the roof of the library, gazing emptily at the late-autumn skyline, and the god contemplates briefly on the best approach to make the daring human pay.
He materializes before the man—summoning his armor, helmet, and scepter all at once—and if Khan were at all surprised, he hid it remarkably well.
The god lunges with the blunt edge of his weapon, which Khan readily evades, but his follow through kick lands solidly against the human's jaw, sending him staggering backwards.
Khan spits a small amount of blood with his saliva, and grins. "Now, that's more like a god."
"Return my hourglass, and I will gift you a painless death." Loki twists his lips to a scowl, but the human simply arches a challenging brow in response.
"And if I don't?"
"Then I will enjoy breaking you." The threat rolls off his tongue like a purr, before the god launches himself into another attack.
They fight half-heartedly, Loki landing more hits that his opponent, but to be fair, he has a weapon while Khan does not, and even so, the human doesn't seem particularly interested in retaliating either.
A low sweep of the scepter catches Khan by the calves, and the man drops to his knees. Loki takes the opportunity to thread his fingers through those dark locks before yanking roughly.
"Where is it?" he snarls, knee pressed firmly against the human's back.
Khan emits a sound somewhere between a laugh and a hiss. "I've hidden it."
"Let me inform you now, mortal. The relic is of little use to you."
"Oh, how wrong you are." Khan chuckles, a low rumble reverberating in the back of his throat—dark and peculiar, and it makes Loki irrationally angry.
"Explain," he growls, tightening his grip and earning a grunt.
"I was hoping we could talk, now that you're here." The human is panting slightly, but Loki can recognize humor in his voice, and it doesn't take long for the god to piece everything together.
"You wanted me to find you," he says, eyes narrowing, "That's why you took the sands. And now they only serve to prolong your life. "
"I figured it was important." Khan continues despite the painful strain on his back and neck. "I'm quite impressed with your swift escape, although it must've been child's play for the god you claim to be."
Loki scowls in indignation, his anger flaring. The nerve of this mortal, treating him like a pawn in some wayward experiment—purposely leaving him to be captured, so that in his escape, he would have demonstrated his capabilities."I do not need to prove anything to you—a petty criminal among mortals. You are beneath me!"
"I see James Kirk has left you with a woeful impression of me," Khan, despite his position, assertively responds, "I am anything but petty."
"Oh?" Loki half-purrs, descending onto one knee so that his lips are centimeters from his captive's ear. "And do you think your misbehavior merits the attention of a god?" He guilds the sharp edge of his scepter along the mortal's neck, pressing ever so gently until a single bead of crimson trickles down that pale expanse. Khan tenses at this, and Loki grins with renewed satisfaction. Just because he can't kill the mortal yet doesn't mean he can't make him worry.
"If you allow me the chance to voice my side, you will understand the reason behind my decision to—"
"I am no crusader for the people." Loki promptly interjects, "I do not care. I am only here to take what's rightfully mine."
A brief pause before the human speaks, tone clipped. "Very well. But perhaps if you were of this time, you'd be keener on what I have to offer, Loki of Asgard. Or should I say Jötunheim. A Frost Giant."
Loki feels his control slip as the latest jab strikes something tender, and he knees Khan on the back hard enough to snap the spine of any average mortal. Khan catches himself on elbows and knees before Loki kicks him on the side, repeatedly until the man collapses onto his back. The god leans forward to grab another fistful of disheveled hair, and pulls so that they are meeting eye to eye.
"You dare mock me?"
Khan winces slightly as Loki points the scepter to his sternum. "It was not my intention, if I did."
"How do you know this?" The god snarls venomously and the mortal answers with a shrug, still too calm.
"I did some research while waiting. Why else would I be on the roof of a library?"
"Tell me your purpose for—" Loki breaks off with a sharp inhalation as aircrafts surround them, seemingly appearing out of nowhere. He looks at the ground to see men in uniform escorting civilians out and away from the library.
"Leiv, put your weapon down and step away from Khan." He hears the projected voice of Captain Kirk.
"Leiv?" Khan arches a brow, to which Loki scowls, frustrated at the needless distraction.
"He is referring to me."
"Is that your real name?"
"No."
"We understand your personal grievances," the Captain continues, "But Khan is a convicted criminal of Earth, and he will face our justice system."
Loki hauls the mortal to a standing position and flips him around, keeping him close as the point of the scepter curve dangerously along his Adam's apple.
"I only wish to speak with you," Khan repeats, gentler this time.
"And why should I grant you such privilege?"
"Allow me a day, and I will convince you to extend your visit."
"Is this my cue to strike you unconscious?" Loki says drily, to which the mortal laughs in that mesmerizingly low tremor.
"It hadn't been my finest hour. Forgive me."
"We have the place surrounded, Leiv," the Captain resumes, "And it's in your best interest to cooperate. We will not hesitate to treat you as a hostile force."
Loki brings an arm around the human, long fingers circling the pale exposed neck as he presses them close. He whispers his spells as the world around them twists, and once they land on a clearing outside of London, Loki immediately shoves the mortal away.
"Twenty-four hours, no more," he says impatiently while the human composes himself, smirking as he smooths back his hair. Whatever injuries Loki had inflicted on him seemed to have healed at a remarkable rate, much to the god's displeasure.
"Meet me in New York in an hour, on the roof of the Metropolitan Museum," Khan says as ribbons of golden light dance around him like firebugs, "We're going to an exhibition, so find something appropriate to wear."
The human then disappears without a trace, leaving the god baffled and annoyed.
###
Loki spends the next hour people watching and concludes that Midgardian fashion has not evolved as dramatically as their infrastructure. Men still wore suits and women evening gowns at concerts and galas, but the texture of their clothing appear smoother—no longer cotton or wool, but something synthetic and odd. Loki eventually decides that the guise he had worn in Stuttgart will do, although for his scarf at least, he tried to mimic that strange malleable fabric, its sleekness cool against his neck as he adds his final touches.
He reveals himself on the roof of the Metropolitan not a minute early, after thoroughly inspecting the block for any indications of a trap. Khan had arrived before him, sporting a long black coat, collars straightened to his cheekbones. His hair is no longer smoothed back, but in a sort of casual disarray, falling over his forehead on one side.
"Afraid of being noticed?" Loki approaches him, a cane in hand and a grin tugging on his lips. If he really wanted to show off, he would have donned the appearance of a child or a woman, but he decides that even as himself, his Midgardian semblance appears impressive enough.
"Even if someone recognizes me, it wouldn't matter." Khan says briskly without eyeing him twice. "We can only stay here for twenty-five minutes,"
"Why twenty-five?"
"The amount of time it takes for my energy to be traced."
The mortal presses an ID that obviously isn't his to the scan by the entry of the roof, and the automatic doors open after a curt beep. Khan stops them just as they are about to step through.
"You won't take kindly to what I'm about to show you," he says, "But regrettably, this is the fastest and the most fitting way, considering time is not on our side."
"I think I will be the judge of that." Loki waves a dismissive hand, stepping ahead of the mortal, "Do not prolong this any further. I am growing rather bored."
###
"—After the death of Odin, the crown was passed to Prince Thor, too young and reckless to bear the burden left by his father's untimely departure. He waged another brutal war against the Frost Giants of Jötunheim, merciless in his pillage until the complete annihilation of the entire race. However, victory came at a great cost to the Asgardians—"
Loki feels a hand on his shoulder, as Khan whispers against the shell of his ear, "I know this is hard, but remember where we are. Do not make a scene."
"—Thor's reign ended abruptly when Asgardian dominance was challenged by the Dark Elves of Svartalfheim, who had formed their own alliance with the rest of the Nine Worlds. Considerably weakened since the previous war, Asgard was eventually overpowered by the neighboring realms, its imperial ambitions ended forever with the passing of their last king—"
Loki makes his way through the crowd of listeners despite Khan's angry protests. "Come back." The human grabs for his elbow, but Loki violently jerks away. "We're running out of time. We need to go."
"—It has been nearly 300 years since the official end to Thor's reign. Despite the ultimate failure of their last ruler, Asgard nonetheless remains one of the most powerful and long-lived empires to ever emerge in history."
The speaker—a petite brunette in a midnight blue evening gown—pauses in her speech as she approaches the display, hidden behind red curtains.
"Much of their treasures have been scattered to the corners of the universe, so that the glory of this warrior race will always be remembered. We here at the Metropolitan Museum of Art is proud to present the latest addition to our formidable assortment of Asgardian artifacts—" the curtains fall as she pulls on a golden string "—the helmet of Thor."
"Lies!" Loki screams above the applause, his voice irrepressibly quivering. "How dare you spread such blasphemy, you treacherous wench?"
"E-Excuse me?" The woman looks at him stunned as the god leaps onto the stage. He strikes her with the flat of his forearm and sends her flying into the crowd.
A pulse of energy hits Loki on the shoulder, vaguely numbing, and the god immediately retaliates with a blast of his own, his cane transforming into his scepter as he takes down every guard in the room. Screams of horror and chaos erupt as the audience scatters, and Loki evades Khan's hand as the human reaches for him once more.
He swings his scepter against the glass encasing Thor's helmet, shattering it into fragments the size of pebbles. He drops to his knees, ignoring the shards digging into his skin, as he reaches for the helmet with trembling hands. Sliding his palm against the cool metal and tracing the wings with delicate fingers, Loki feels as though his blood has turned to ice. The helmet is unmistakably Thor's—the one the Thunder god had worn during their many battles together, both as brothers and as enemies; the very one they had stolen from Odin's vault as mischievous children, bright-eyed and oblivious to the brutality of war. Loki closes his eyes and tightens his jaws, willing himself not to care—Thor, the blundering oaf, the sentimental fool, whom Loki had lied to, betrayed, and attempted to kill multiple times—Thor, Odin's son, the rightful heir—not an ally, not a friend, not his brother.
Loki is struck by another blast—more painful than stunning this time—and he feels himself bruising and bleeding beneath the flimsy Midgardian clothing. Nevertheless, he can't bring himself to respond—ribcage constricted around his frantic heart, limbs weak like molasses.
Khan soon hauls him to his feet, holding him close with surprisingly strong arms. Another blast comes his way, but the mortal shields him from it, before firing his own weapon at the incoming guards. Loki watches on dully as swirls of gold dance around them, his fingers clutching to the helmet even as the museum disappears before his eyes.
Yes, there is a time-line discrepancy, but that will be explained later.
Everything I know of Star Trek comes from one movie and a large amount of wikia reading, so feel free to call me out on any inaccuracies. I'm always looking to improve. (But please be kind. I did put a lot of effort in this so far. Whelp.)
Thanks for reading, and comments are loved! Till next time! :)