Of Feasts And Talks
"The lamb was especially tender and the sea buckthorn sauce delicious, my compliments to the Chef," Loki noted lounging in his chair like a king on a throne. He surveyed the lavish feast in front of him – there were at least a dozen different meat dishes not counting the cow which amused him every time he looked at it. He counted at least six different dishes of fish and a plenty of different plates – for fruits and cheeses, and grilled vegetables. The wines weren't half bad either. Loki enjoyed the whites particularly.
"Now," Fury put his palms together having finished with his meal, "We've dined. We've wined. As the saying goes – now would be the time for you to put out."
"Put out.. What exactly?" either Loki did not understand the colloquialism, which was likely, or he pretended very well that he didn't. He sampled a different wine and threw an amused glance at the grilled cow. The feast that had been put in front of him was nothing short of marvelous though probably more suited to his brother's tastes. Of the two of them it was always Thor whose belly seemed to be bottomless. Loki was a much lighter eater, but he certainly appreciated the effort put into this. It seemed that the humans were indeed serious about being hospitable for all that they had no idea what to say or do.
He hid his smile behind the rim of the glass remembering how at the beginning of the feast director Fury had recited a rather lovely welcoming poem to him. It was of course as far off courtly protocol as only a mortal could be, but having played this game thus far, Loki had graciously accepted their offer. He wondered if they realized yet that what they knew was utter rubbish or not. At the very least, though, it was all very amusing. He could almost see why his brother was so taken with mortals. After all – it takes one fool to know another.
This was almost worth throwing over the Chitauri. Now, that was a problem Loki supposed he would have to deal with sooner or later. He guessed that the Titan was going to be ever so angry with him, but then again Loki found it hard to imagine how much of a fool Thanus had to have been if he hadn't allowed for this possibility. The only reason Loki ever began their partnership was to end the torture. There is only so much even a god can take. The whole – flaying and skewering thing does get old after a while, but what had been the worst of it was the propaganda the Other kept spewing. Loki would have done just about anything to get Other to shut up.
Loki most certainly did not tremble as he recalled the long months in the darkness of the void.
"You said your name is Loki?" Fury asked and unknown to him his voice brought Loki back down to Earth and his attention to the table.
"That's what my mother said," Loki drawled and rotated the glass of wine, dangling it at the very edge of his fingertips. He watched, fascinated, as wine swirled in the glass. "But I've recently discovered she's quite a talented liar so who knows. I might be a Jim or something of the sorts," the grin he directed at Fury was nothing short of wicked, though at the same time he betrayed that he had at least a cursory understanding of Earth.
His expression betrayed none of the thoughts relating to his family. Not my family.
Fury didn't raise to the bait and he didn't bat an eyelash at the humor either. Due to crash course in Norse mythology he was aware of what Loki was, at least according to the Vikings though he did take reports written six hundred years ago with a grain of salt. Nonetheless he had an idea who he was dealing with. Viking edition of Tony Stark. With godlike powers.
"Let's stop beating about the bush, Mister Loki..," Fury started and Erik almost spat out a duck as he hurried to say something to the director, but Loki himself interrupted first.
"God."
"Excuse me?" Fury raised his eyebrows. He did want to hear this out loud – for the record.
"I will, but just this time," Loki conceded graciously.
Fury stared at him blankly.
"I'm a god, you dull being," Loki said annoyed, but there was no real heat behind his tone. He took another sip of the wine.
Fury raised an eyebrow and made a show of consulting some notes. For all the world – he was utterly unimpressed with the revelation that he was dining with a deity. "Yes. Of course. Here you are," he pointed at a section in his notes. "Shouldn't you be bound by entrails of your son until the end of the world? Or did I miss that?"
"Fairytales of mortals," Loki sniffed and put down his glass. He didn't even have child, much less several.
Fury made a note that Loki had probably pissed off the historian. He was not surprised. If he put Natasha up to creating a psychological profile of this guy, he had no doubt it would be as messed up as Stark's. But altogether it was not Fury's problem at all, he had only one interest in this. "What are your objectives in coming to earth?"
"They were to conquer," Loki replied easily, somewhat wishing that he could eat more, but knowing that he couldn't possibly. After the atrocious coffee he had not expected anything half as grand as this and it stroked his ego that it had been provided.
Food was scarce in the void. He'd lived off of his magic more than anything else, and what he had eaten he cared not to recall. The thought alone would be enough to turn his stomach. And it would be unfitting for a god to puke his guts out at his own dinner table. So Loki resigned himself to sipping wine for the rest of the night, it wasn't likely to inebriate him. Though under normal circumstances he might have even tackled the grilled cow. After all, while Thor was the more ravenous of the two of them, Loki could work up an appetite of a god as well.
"And they are?" Fury was unflappable.
"To enjoy your hospitality, of course," Loki grinned devilishly. He looked at Erik. "Quite clever. Quite interesting," he judged before shifting his gaze to Nick Fury, "not so much."
"And how did you plan to conquer us?"
"Hmm," Loki leaned back in his chair and shifted putting one leg over the other. He pretended to mull the matter over. "Should I tell you?"
"It is polite to inform your host of impending danger," Erik spoke up – of the three of them sharing this dinner, he was the only one who wasn't done with his meal yet. "That's what the whole section about goodwill and friendly bidding is all about, isn't it?"
Loki rolled his eyes. It was too early to tell them that their version of an Asgardian or any other kind of ritualistic welcome was a sham. Oh, it had worked well enough. Because he had allowed it. The magic binding them had grown rather solid, but as strong and compelling it might be to mortals or other less developed beings to Loki it was barely an itch. Aside from the threat from Norns, but what could they do to ruin his life? He had done well enough on his own, thank you very much.
Sometimes he wished he was as ignorant as Thor. Life would certainly be easier. Point a hammer and set loose.
Still the mortal had a point. Not the one still eating, but the one who represented Midgard. Fury. Loki guessed that the man wanted to know his plan so that he could prepare for contingencies, what the man could not guess was that Loki had adjusted his plans the moment he had paused a moment too long on that platform. For better or worse at the moment Loki actually did need these mortals, because Chitauri would be coming. He had no doubt about that. And that meant that he had to play along for a while as a domesticated god and feed the children information with a spoon.
Loki sighed as if this was a great hardship for him to explain elementary things to so simple beings. "With an army, of course."
"Where is this army now?" if anything the god said threw Fury for a loop, it never showed.
"I know not where," Loki shrugged carelessly.
He truly didn't, but what he failed to explain was that it wasn't important. The army was in the void and it was utterly of no consequence where exactly in the void, because the Tesseract would open a doorway to their exact location wherever that might be. The only upside of having a Chitauri army had been the fact that they could be dropped off anywhere without any notice in a surprise attack. Loki had counted on the fact that even a stupid army could win if they had the element of surprise and superior numbers.
"Then how were you planning to use it to conquer Earth?"
Loki looked at Fury and his look showed that he was utterly disappointed. "By bringing it here, of course."
"How?"
Loki was not going to answer that. Not because he felt it was a particular trade secret, but because of how obvious the answer was. He had resolved to inform them of the situation – so to speak – after all, if they were to provide him shelter and all the other things they had promised in so lovely a prose, he might as well make sure they put up a hell of a fight for him. But there were limits. He poured the rest of the wine from his glass on the floor and a new bottle from the middle of the table appeared in his hand with a snap of his fingers. This time it was a red.
Loki didn't particularly like red wines, because they tended to color the mouth if one drank too much and while Volstagg might not care how terribly the violet on his mouth clashed with the furnace red of his beard – Loki did not enjoy it when his mouth looked like somebody had poured a whole ink pot in it. Besides reds were so much thicker and heavier than whites. Loki generally liked his wines light and rich with flavor. However Midgardians were a tough bit to swallow and that asked for a drink that might distaste his tongue as much as they turned the rest of his senses.
"The Tesseract!" Erik cried out a while later.
Loki clapped balancing his glass on his knee. Fury frowned, however. The director had had the artifact shipped out of the facility nearly immediately after Loki's arrival. It should be safe under heavy guard and Coulson's supervision and en route to another safe facility. One askew look at the decadent god, though, gave Fury doubts.
"Might we expect that army anyway?"
"Chitauri are a race of handicapped mongrels bred for war," Loki said carelessly paying more attention to the red wine that he swirled and smelled before tasting. "Quite similar to warriors of Asgard," he couldn't resist a gibe that would annoy Heimdall. He knew that the gatekeeper was watching, but to his annoyance there was nothing he could do about it at the moment. He had not the strength to pull a veil over himself to shield him from peering eyes. The void and his experience with Thanos and the Other had taxed him more than he would like to admit. It had nearly killed him, in fact. "But even they can follow a marked path."
"When?" Fury's tone was sharp – first notable show of emotion. He didn't have to ask who had marked that path.
"Soon," Loki shrugged as if he couldn't care less. Too soon, is what he thought, though.
"What can we expect of them?"
"What do you expect of warriors?" Loki's tone was deceptively gentle, his expression nearly compassionate. "Death."
"You would have lead them to kill all the people on this planet?" Erik asked, astounded and strangely hurt.
"No," Loki said as if insulted, he even lowered his legs and sat up straighter. "Conquest means that a rule follows. I'm not keen on ruling over corpses. There are enough of enthusiasts of that kind," he shrugged.
"Chitauri mean to burn you. All of you," Loki said in a matter-of-fact tone, but he intended that as a warning. "I had meant to rule you," he said a moment later as if that was a consolation, before conceding a point, "But most of you probably would have died anyway."
Fury listened only for the important words. "Meant to rule? You don't mean to anymore?"
There was a tense moment of silence. "Well, I've accepted you as my hosts and protectors, haven't I?"
"Apparently," Fury drawled not even trying to disguise his doubts on the matter.
"I think this is a beginning of a beautiful relationship," Loki grinned settling comfortably again. "If somewhat dysfunctional."
LOH
Frigga had a reputation as a calm and gentle queen. It was a testament to her skill – she knew not only what to say to people, but how to make them hear what she wanted them to hear. The only rage she had ever shown in public had been in grief. But her husband knew that his queen had a bite as strong as the softest of her touches.
With the knowledge that her son was alive, Frigga had emerged from her grief, but she did not return to her previous state of lazy complacency. The long thousands of years she had lived in peace within the golden halls of Asgard with her family had dulled her in every sense – she had been completely unprepared for her world to be shaken at it's very foundations. For her family to be torn apart so suddenly and so viciously.
She had grown so used to the lie that she had forgotten that there was a truth beneath it. It had taken astonishingly small amount of time for her to stop feeling even a pang of guilt when hearing Fárbauti's name – surely a mother who had left her baby deserved the child no longer. And Frigga counted herself as a good mother, after all, she loved her boys unreservedly.
The only thing that had remained of her conscience in this matter was a sliver of fear, but she was so good at lying it was hardly an effort to lie to herself. However now the fear roared back into life like a great beast awoken from slumber. "What do you mean you told him?"
Odin did not like to feel chastised not even by his wife. Nonetheless he heard reproach in his spouse's tone and accepted it as his due. He stood with his back straight as his queen paced the length of the room in front of him. "I told Loki he is Laufey's son."
It was not a moment he was proud of, but the anguish on his son's face had rattled Odin and confessions had just slipped out. He had grasped at facts trying to find the right words, the correct justification to appease Loki, but with his every next breath everything had unraveled even more. He never had the talent to speak as eloquently as his wife and youngest son could. And then he had collapsed under the onslaught of Loki's anger and hurt, and another chain of unfortunate events had unfolded.
"And when was that?" Frigga's tone rose higher in dismay. "Did you tell him who his mother is? Because he mentioned none of this to me when we spoke over your bed."
"I remember," Odin said. It was true what was said – Odin heard and saw in his dreams everything that went on in the world around him. It was never a clear memory – tainted with a dreamlike quality, but he had heard and seen nonetheless, powerless to act. Nightmares were all that he had gained from his last Odinssleep.
"He probably guesses," Frigga continued, having barely paused. "Everyone knows about the lost crown prince of Jötunheimr. Missing and presumed dead in the last days of the war," she turned on her heel to face her husband, "And it won't matter that we made him out to be older – he'll know," Frigga stressed. "He'll know he is Fárbauti's son too."
Odin sighed. He knew the truth in Frigga's words – Laufey did not have a reputation as a particularly loving father or husband, and it would not have been beyond the Giant to father a bastard, but the time line of the whole thing was too small and too coincidental. Loki would guess the truth. He would guess that he was the lost crown prince of Jötunheimr.
"As long as Fárbauti doesn't know..," Odin tried to be reassuring. As long as the queen of the Giants didn't know there would be only three people in all the realms that would know of Loki's true parentage. As long as Fárbauti didn't know she couldn't try to claim him as hers – and as long as that held true, Odin and Frigga had their chance to get their son back. In truth, the outcome rested on Loki's decision – would he return to his native people?
Odin wasn't prone to regretting his decisions, but he bitterly regretted parting with that truth. All would be so much simpler if they didn't have to try and guess what Loki would do with the knowledge he now had. Odin grit his teeth, furious with himself – he should have stuck with the truth that was as natural to him as the air he breathed – Loki was his. His and Frigga's. The boy had no other parents.
It had been the pain in his child's expression that had struck him so then. Odin still remembered that expression. He could hardly understand then how one could feel such pain with no open wound. As it was – he was learning. He had been learning ever since Loki fell to the void.
"What makes you think he won't turn to her?" Frigga demanded even though she knew that he would have no answer better than what she could already guess. "He feels betrayed by us. Whether he would turn to her out of spite or despair – as soon as she gets her claws into him, he will be lost to us. She will twist him and mold him, and he will never come home to Asgard again. She will put him on the throne of Jötunheimr and she won't ever let him leave."
"She won't crown him," Odin answered shortly and sharply. "That would mean civil war in Jötunheimr."
For all that Loki was the eldest child of the royal couple of Jötunheimr – he was of Asgard. And he had killed his sire. Loki might have Jötunn blood, but he was a stranger to his native people, and as a son of Odin he could even be counted as an enemy, for all their long years of peace. Odin didn't doubt that Helblindi would not be eager to pass his throne to his long-lost sibling either.
"And here," Frigga added. There were already those that thought there was a conspiracy against the prince in the castle and that looked unfavorably to Odin. There were those that had supported Loki's politics in his short tenure as a king and there were those that for all the fact that Loki was not of Aesir blood would think it treason to lose the prince to Jötunheimr. And there were also those that would equally turn on the prince for his origins. One noble house would turn on another and Asgard would war with itself.
"Don't think that Fárbauti will hesitate even for a moment should she ever get the chance," Frigga said growing more agitated by the second. "Helblindi may be the king in name, but he's a child, Fárbauti rules. Should he even want to protest, the forces he could gather she would smash in one attack. And then she would unite all the Giants in hatred of us. She will tell our son lies – she will call us thieves and oath-breakers, she will rally her people behind our son's banner calling us the villains and she will march war upon Asgard striking us with the one weapon that aims at our very hearts. She will aim to defeat us with our own prince."
"Give him credit," Odin snapped, unwilling to be drawn into Frigga's somber vision. "He is a man grown not a puppet with strings."
"He hates us," Frigga snarled back. "And not without reason, may I say so. Fárbauti won't let that hate turn to understanding. She will fester it and pan the flames. There will be no more explanations or forgiveness. If she gets her claws into him, we will not see our son again until he comes to kill us."
"You forget that he killed Laufey. Her husband," Odin argued.
Frigga just sighed in defeat. "You know as well as I do that she will only thank him for that."
"Then we must trust in Thor," Odin replied.
"But we didn't tell him about Loki's parentage did we?" Frigga sat down on the edge of their bed – her tone as tired as her looks. She felt too worn out for a goddess.
"Thor has to bring his brother home. That matter need not come up in their conversation," Odin's answer was simple.
Frigga nearly laughed. "Sometimes I wonder, Allfather," she said and her gaze turned dark and angry. "If you're blind in both eyes," her tone was unkind and biting – she meant to hurt with her words.
"It was you who lied," Odin remarked, stoic in the face of his wife's insult.
"I did not know that Loki was told the truth," she hissed, gripping hard the post at the corner of the bed and grinding the elaborate carving into sawdust. She rose just as the top part of the post tumbled down on the bed with the heavy canopy it had supported.
"He surprised me," Odin admitted. His expression betrayed none of his thoughts as he watched his wife destroy his bed. They had always had separate rooms as was appropriate, but it was only recently that they had stopped sharing a bed at night. Frigga had asked him to sleep in his own room months ago, and had never invited him back. And that had been even before Loki fell.
"Let us hope it goes no further," Frigga said before leaving. "I want my son back."
"As do I," Odin said in the emptiness of his room.
