Chapter Eight: Hidden Message
The task at hand was impossibly hard. Loki had imbued countless weapons with his magic, but that magic had always been inactive, only flaring back to life when commanded to do so or hit with magic.
The actual weaving aspect was at first cumbersome, but his clever fingers quickly picked up the rhythm.
When Loki imbued the threads with his active energy he had to focus so that it wouldn't dissipate now that it wasn't anchored to him. If his concentration wavered even a second he had to start all over again.
Stark advised him to think of the threads as a part of him, but he didn't know how to do so. Perhaps if the item he was trying to imbue was one of his daggers it would be easier since he already considered it a part of himself. But Stark had been very specific on which object Loki should focus his energies on. He had studied under many mages before and if there was one thing he learned it was that they hated when their directions were disregarded.
Loki only realized it was morning when Ms. Cook placed a plate of pancakes in front of him. He nodded in thanks, but did not touch them.
An hour later he heard Stark leave his room. Loki refused to let his frustration show as the older god walked by him, not even glancing in his direction.
He did his best to ignore the noise of Ms. Cook doing her duty then the subsequent clinking of utensils against a plate.
He wove in silence letting the magic run from his fingertips into the threads. His magic just wouldn't stick. As soon as the thread turned green it was back to grey.
"Will it distract you if I work up here?" Stark asked from behind him
"No," Loki lied, refusing to show any more weakness than he already had. Stark sat across from him, resting his feet on the coffee table. With a lazy hand motion the Cradle, as Pepper called it, appeared and separated from the Tesseract. Stark set the Cradle beside him before holding the Tesseract loosely, eyes closed.
Loki could not sense him doing anything to the cube, but he was sure that Stark was. Every few minutes the Tesseract would shudder. Loki tried not to stare, but his eyes drifted to the strange Aesir and the object he held.
When Loki finally gave up trying to figure out what Stark was doing and concentrated back on the threads there was a flash of gold. His eyes snapped back to Stark. The Tesseract was alight with red runes. What was more startling though was Stark's look of absolute fury.
"Jarvis, inform Pep that I won't be back till tomorrow evening." Stark said while putting down the Tesseract on the coffee table, still glowing.
"Very well, Sir. Would you like to give a reason for your absence?"
"Tell her I finally found the son of a bitch who took my cube from Asgard and lost it on Midgard."
"Shall I prepare a cell?"
"No, I don't think they were aware of what they were doing, but I have to be certain. He wasted a few centuries that could have been important." As Stark stood up his image shifted, turning him into a dark elf.
"Safe travels, Sir."
"Thanks, J."
Before Loki could ask him what exactly was going on the God of Fortification disappeared.
Loki sighed in frustration before going back to imbuing the threads. The lasted a full five minutes before his gaze lingered on the Tesseract sitting only two feet away, still glowing brightly. He glared at it. It was Stark's active magic, not even flickering slightly despite its creator most likely being in a whole other realm. Loki could hardly make his active magic stick to the threads for a second, yet Stark could keep his active magic in an object from a different realm.
It was both frustrating and motivating. If it was possible than it surely was within Loki's capabilities.
Despite his surge in confidence half a day later Loki still had not made any progress.
Think of the threads as a part of you.
That was Stark's advice, but how could he? Loki didn't feel pain when he pulled the threads tightly. It was string. Not a part of him.
He decided to take a break since he could hear Ms. Cook making him lunch. He wondered into the kitchen feeling his fatigue from constantly using his magic and having not slept the night before.
Two weeks ago he was screaming in a crater. Now he was watching a beautiful ghost of a woman make him soup. Loki chuckled and tried not to think about where he'd be in two more weeks. A good portion of Midgard was looking for him, some of which were probably in this tower. Thor was definitely still looking for him. He didn't know how many on Asgard even knew he was alive. He hoped that Frigga did. Even if she had lied about his origins he knew that she loved him like a son.
Frigga… she had been there in the memory Stark put him in while extracting Thanos from his mind.
She had mentioned threads.
When he was a young boy she seemed to always be weaving or embroidering something.
Loki looked at Ms. Cook gauging how much longer till the food would be finished. Deciding that it still had a ways to go he went to his room and stared at the tapestry Frigga had made for him. It was simple compared to most of the ones she made.
The background was a shade of green that was so dark it almost looked black. Around the edges were the constellations, the sun, and moons of Asgard. Then in the middle was a perfect representation of the golden city.
He reached out to brush the delicate stitches but froze when he saw his blue skin. A Jotun touching Asgard. The concept felt wrong and absurd.
He had to remind himself that he was Loki and this was the place he was raised. Just because he wasn't born there didn't mean it wasn't his home.
Loki carefully traced the image of the tower his mother was most likely sitting in at this very moment.
When he fell… when he let go he had not considered how she would be affected. Had Odin told her the truth that he chose to die? Or had he lied to her? Did she even know he invaded Midgard? It wouldn't surprise Loki if Odin had decided not to tell her in case Loki wasn't captured.
Frigga had always put so much work into each tapestry. She put her love into them and even said that… they were a part of her.
Loki paused, his hand still resting on the fabric. This was a part of her. He hesitated before sending out a gentle pulse of magic. He felt it bounce back surrounded by cornflower blue magic, his mother's magic. Hidden runes flared to life.
He almost cried when he deciphered their meaning. They were intricate spells to give him good luck, safety, fortune, and most of all happiness. A message of love hidden right in front of him for most of his life.
Loki blinked back his tears watching the blue runes fade, becoming hidden once more.
It was inactive magic, but it did give him a better idea on how to imbue his active magic as he wove the threads together.
He went back to the living room, retrieving the threads and immediately going to work on them.
It wasn't about incorporating the threads into his being. He had been trying to force the threads to be a part of him instead of actually believing that they were. They were an extension of him. It was about using them like they were a part of him, giving them a purpose beyond an exercise. Giving them purpose the same way Frigga gave every stitch a bit of her love.
After that realization each attempt got him closer to success.
Added a few feels. Hope you don't mind :)
