A/N: I apologize for the lack of recent updates. School has become even more demanding, and I've been trying to get my work and class schedules for next year sorted out. My chosen field of work is proving to be putting my brain through its' paces, but forensics is far too interesting to give up on.
To mentally unwind, and to make up for my lag in chapters, here's part 4. Please enjoy this glimpse at the mind-bending, physics-defying magical insanity our God of Mischief and his little pet can get up to when he's not concerned with world domination!
About the cat's name: The name itself (or so the internet tells me) is Germanic in origin, combining the word adel (noble) with hraban (dark, raven) to create "dark and noble". Loki would only want an interesting name for his pet, after all...even if the name can also be taken as a jab at Loki's horned helmet.
WARNING: This chapter contains flashbacks of animal abandonment, and may or may not inspire feelings of sympathy for the subject of the abandonment in question, and also the mandatory-for-this-universe Loki-feelings that go along with it.
The rest of the night was spent reading, and when he'd climbed into bed, his pet had curled up in his arms, rubbing a soft, furry cheek against the god's left collarbone. Sleep came easily.
When Loki awoke the next morning, the sun was a pale, champagne-gold coin outside his window, floating in a nest of greyish-white clouds. Birds chirped, in that universally annoying way done in mornings, and his pet...
His kitty wasn't there. Loki's sleep-fogged mind (a still somewhat unfamiliar state, given the many years of being constantly alert during hunting, battling, and training) registered the absence with a sour note, as pale hands automatically began reaching about, checking to see if his pet had simply moved a little farther away on the bed.
Several minutes of searching yielded nothing, save for a few handfuls of crisp white sheets and green-gold quilt fabric, and the god let out a groan of annoyance at the unfortunate find. Waking up in a warm bed, content and safe, and with a wake up nuzzle by his only real companion was not a luxury he planned to give up.
Perhaps he woke up and felt hungry, and decided to go wait by his food bowl. Yes, that must be it.
Loki would not otherwise find it easy to forgive the terrible transgression of being left to wake up alone because of a bowl of premium cat food. The bed was always cold and lonely without the warm, comforting presence of his furry housemate to cradle close.
Nothing to be done about it now, except to check and see if he's somewhere else in our quarters.
Taking a moment to breathe in deeply, Loki's eyes fluttered closed as he let his magic seep out in tendrils, gently extending through his small domain in search of the only other inhabitant, reaching out for that soft, welcoming aura that always felt like warm sunshine and was tinged with the feeling of ozone and fresh blood, presumably from the most recent "present" of a dead bird on the kitchenette's countertop.
Loki had memorized the aura of his pet from the very beginning, when he'd come to Midgard after his "death" in Svartalfheim several months ago. Now, as he found his cat curled up beside the porcelain food bowl with a pout on the chubby face, clearly stating feed me!, he was reminded of how he'd come across him in the first place...
Forging a false identity and records had proved, while not truly difficult, nonetheless mentally exhausting. Choosing a home had not been the easiest of decisions, given that Thor still resided on Earth and the thunder god knew enough of his habits to potentially find him, but in the end, Loki had chosen a place of his own that would allow him to remain relatively close to New York City, enough so that he could occasionally check to see if his former opponents still harbored enough dislike to throw him off their world if he was ever found.
It wasn't because he would remain somewhat close to his once-brother. It was only so he could monitor him and his comrades and see if they'd come close to discovering him, that was honestly it.
Loki, while good at lying to others, was loathe to admit that he wasn't as good at lying to himself.
But the world still turned, the stars still twinkled as they were extinguished a million miles away, and Loki was still in need of a place of his own, if he was to reside here. The keys to his new apartment were handed over without fuss, and his neighbors in the building he now would live in were, while not overly friendly, polite and accommodating, and that was all the god needed.
Unfortunately, his new abode did not come equipped with food, and while Loki could use his magic to create his furniture and money, he was not able to use it to conjure food, or at least, food that he would find palatable.
So, after giving his new quarters some simple furnishings and pocketing some money, Loki managed to get directions from one of his new neighbors as to where the nearest grocery store was, cast a simple notice-me-not charm over himself, and teleported to the location accordingly.
Living in Asgard for nearly his entire life had not exposed the ex-prince to many varieties of food, given that the majority of meals consisted of fruits, heavy stews, vegetable and meat dishes, and pint after pint of mead or wine. Thus, Loki found himself uncertain as to what to buy, and eventually leaving with several bags of vegetables and a shank of meat in plastic-wrap, feeling decidedly exhausted and wishing that Midgard didn't have so many ridiculous food choices.
As he walked out of the store, the day outside had meanwhile turned into a raging thunderstorm, complete with lightning and crashes of thunder fit to wake the dead, and Loki became drenched to the bone with frigid rainwater, just barely managing to conjure up the water-repelling charm needed to keep his groceries dry in time.
The god found his temper reach its' breaking point of the day. Inwardly swearing, he'd glared at the offending, cloud-filled sky and wondered if it was worth alerting Thor to his presence on Midgard if it meant clearing up the aggravating tempest overhead. His magic coiled like a snake within him, ready to strike at a moments' notice to deliver a vicious counterattack...
But before he could change the weather, Loki heard a sharp mewl of discomfort, just barely audible over the thunderous din. Finding his interest momentarily piqued, he turned towards the direction of the noise, and found that it led into the alley next to the grocery store. Walking into the narrow space, he'd found a lopsided, soggy cardboard box left next to a dumpster and recycling bin, the words FREE CAT written in crooked, sloppy handwriting on the side with permanent marker.
The creature, thin fur matted with grime and completely soaked by the rain, wasn't actually a fully-grown cat, as the advertising would suggest, but a feline just barely past kittenhood, and still small enough to fit in one of Loki's hands. Large, dark eyes looked up at the god with an oddly challenging stare, as if unwilling to admit defeat here, abandoned and cold, in a side-alley during a storm and no covering whatsoever.
Loki found himself approaching the box carefully, hands held out placatingly, though he wasn't quite sure why. He had seen several abandoned animals during his previous stint on Midgard, and no humans had so much as batted an eyelash. But he'd grown up watching his once-mother tending her own chariot-pulling cats as lovingly as one would with treasured pets, giving them naught but the best.
This one, unfortunately, had not been so lucky. Yet, the eyes that stared balefully up at him were not the sobbing, tear-soaked eyes of the defeated, but the brave gaze of a warrior standing alone, unwilling to let everything go and die, even in the face of being left for that grisly purpose.
Loki stared into the dark pools, and found in them a kindred spirit.
The god reached into the box, noting with disgust that there wasn't so much as a scrap of blanket to offer consolation in the face of abandonment, and scooped the tiny feline out of the box.
"Let's go home," he said, and in that moment his new charge butted a tiny, damp head against his palm in affirmation.
Several days had been spent tending to his new housemate, drying and warming the tiny body, offering warm milk, giving scratches behind the ears, and getting as much information about taking care of the soft, furry creature as he could from neighbors, who waved aside his half-hearted excuses for "bothering" them and offered him some cat toys and recommendations for a check-up at the vet's. To his faint surprise, he'd found his new pet's coat was a dark, cloudy grey, short-haired but soft, and the eyes were a bluish-grey, like the thunderstorm he'd been found in, of a shade so dark as to seem black unless he looked closely.
The result was well worth the effort. The little creature, whom he'd named Adelram for his dark eyes and sleekly-maintained coat, became affectionate and rather cheerful, batting at his toys and nuzzling the god's shoulder whenever he demanded to be picked up and held.
Though well-behaved around the humans who occasionally would be passed by or greeted in their apartment building, Loki found his pet was most interested in Loki himself, following him everywhere, a tiny, furry shadow that claimed his lap and purred like an engine, often nipping at pale fingers, and, to the god's mixed amusement and exasperation, being prone to bringing home dead mice and birds when Loki left the windows open, presenting his kills to his owner with the sharp, eager furvor of a job well done. Given that the blood and bones could occasionally be useful in helping strengthen their home's protective enchantments, the offerings were accepted, and the god would often replenish the wards while his pet sat beside him, crunching avian skulls like Midgardian candy as soft paws batted at Loki's hair.
Now, several months of kitty-therapy had left Loki several degrees calmer, but nonetheless prone to the occasional relapse of distemper and mischief. Waking up to find his pet was not nearby to give him a good morning cuddle was not doing any wonders for his mood.
Reaching into the kitchenette's dry goods cupboard, he pulled out a tin of salmon-flavoured cat food and emptied the contents into the bowl. "Ade, come eat your breakfast."
Adelram gave his owner a pleading look and batted his paws at the god's pajama pants.
"No, do not give me that look. I woke up cold and lonely because of you, I'm not giving you any belly rubs right now."
The cat's eyes widened, looking dangerously close to emitting a waterfall of tears.
No, I must remain strong. Must...not...
A pitiful mewl was given. Loki felt his restraint crumble, much to his self-disgust.
"Fine, you ridiculous creature. But eat your food first, I will not have you complaining of hunger pains all morning."
Adelram cooed happily at his victory, padding over to his food bowl to tuck into the food with large, noisy gulps. Turning his attentions away from his feline companion, Loki cast a summoning charm to bring in the day's newspaper from the downstair's communal mail cubbyholes as he began making himself breakfast.
One small baked Florentine omelet and several cups of tea with milk later, the God of Mischief lowered his newspaper onto the table, a smirk beginning to form.
I've not been having a very good morning, why not liven it up a bit? Those Avengers already spotted me yesterday, why not get a bit of enjoyment out of my little... ressurection hobby?
Adelram, having finished with his own breakfast, promptly leapt into his owner's lap and began butting his head against the god's arm, demanding to be petted. Feeling in a much better mood, Loki obliged, stroking the feline behind the ears and humming Tchaikovsky's Piano Concerto No. 1 under his breath as plans began to form.
"We're going to need several bags of chicken feathers, a widespread sticking charm, and a map of the city of New York's underground..."
Rubbing sleep from his eyes, Tony Stark gave the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. a deadpan stare, wishing he'd had the foresight to grab an extra-large cup of hot coffee and the last donut.
"You're telling me Loki did what now? It's too early in the morning for jokes, Nicky."
"This isn't a joke, Stark. Now suit up and get down to Time's Square's 42 Street and Port Authority Bus Terminal, those giant chickens need to be contained!"
"Are you sure KFC hasn't filed a report saying a shipment of chicken's gone missing...?"
"NOW, STARK!"