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Chapter 9
The moment they got up, returned Hogun's knife safely to its sheath, and looked through the doorway, they were confronted by a solid wall of cloaks.
The guards stood there six abreast and three deep, shoulder to shoulder, their blades drawn, an impenetrable force blocking anyone from coming through the door whom they did not wish to allow passage.
It was a terrifying sight, even though Loki had grown up surrounded by them.
It would have been even more terrifying had they not been facing the corridor and his enemies unseen beyond instead of Loki himself.
"I need to get to the Bifrost," he told them firmly.
Their leader turned to face him. "Would my prince like an escort?" he offered.
Loki closed his eyes and counted to three. "Did everyone in Asgard but me know?" he ground out.
"We didn't," Fandral offered helpfully.
"We had to, Prince Loki. To be ready to step in if you were about to unknowingly do yourself harm, if nothing else."
He had to bite back a question of where they had been when he'd tried his hand at the spit, but then they had to have known the chief cook at the very least knew and there were usually very few guards anywhere near the kitchens.
Food was not, after all, something Asgard's enemies had ever thought was worth staging an invasion over.
"And you didn't stop my father why?" Sif asked haughtily.
"When they left, they had not done anything actionable beyond calling an Odinson a name." The guard grinned predatorily, and Loki was very glad he had never crossed any of the guard beyond an 'I'm going to make you smile on-duty' prank or two thousand. "They are being watched and followed. If they do anything worse, or show signs they had planned to do worse, they will be detained for the Allfather's judgment."
Sif trembled a little, just enough for Loki to notice it, but she nodded firmly.
"What we need," Loki announced, "is a distraction. We intend to go to the Bifrost, as my father has ordered me by way of his raven."
There was a helpful croak behind him.
"I intend to go to the armory so that we can arm ourselves more appropriately, then onward from there. If you can make them believe we are gathering food from the kitchens and going to retrieve personal possessions from my chambers, it would be most helpful."
He saw Volstagg give him a questioning look, but Loki said nothing in response. He thought he knew exactly what the objection was, and it was something that had nothing to do with his true plans.
Which Loki had no intention of giving to anyone who wasn't riding to the Bifrost with him tonight. Not when anyone who knew what realm he'd been born to was a potential assassin-of-opportunity and he had no idea who knew.
The guards left, marching down the corridor.
"And now what?" Fandral asked.
"We're not letting you go to the armory," Volstagg told him. "Too risky, they'll know you'll want weapons..."
"I have a plan. Just trust me," he told them all.
Just then, a door opened somewhere behind them. "My lord!" the chief cook called out.
They all spun around.
"There isn't supposed to be a door there," Loki stammered.
"Yes there is!" Volstagg laughed.
A feral grin. "You think we want to carry platters around in the same back passages running message-bearers use? You never come to meals early, dear prince. How would you have ever seen us, when we try to make ourselves just part of the scenery?"
Loki smiled. This... this could be better than he had planned. "Do these passages go near the outer stables?"
"You've had warm meals waiting there for your return from other realms and you need to ask that?"
They ended up stopping at the kitchens for supplies, if only because it was the hub of the tunnel system and therefore on the way no matter what they did.
"Guess who's back?" the chief cook called out.
The looks the gathered youngsters garnered were mostly uneasy, and mostly at Loki.
"We need traveling food for at least one. Enough to last a few days. Someone give me a bag." The chief cook started going through stored goods, picking out bits of things.
Loki was slightly disturbed that nothing fresh and nothing anyone else handed over was being put into the canvas bag that came from a corner somewhere.
Everything was stored for use by anyone. He's the only one to touch it since it was designated for my personal use.
He had never had to consider a risk of poison in anything coming from the palace kitchen. Eating in other realms in the wild, yes. Eating at home, where his father ruled, never.
And now someone else, someone who would know when food could be a threat because it was his business to know, was worried enough to take precautions.
Loki shivered.
"Is it true, my lord?" the cupbearer he'd pranked not even two weeks ago - could it really be such a little bit of time? - asked.
"That I need to get the Bifrost by the Allfather's order and have no idea what happens after I get there?" he asked back, trying to keep his voice calm and light.
"That we figured," someone cracked in the dry serious humor that had become so familiar the past few days.
Damn, he was going to miss it.
"He means the other," the chief cook told him with his head in a cabinet. "And yes, 'tis true. I knew. He didn't, not until Thor charged off to Jotunheim and dragged these five with him. Shock for anyone, losing contact with a brother and certainty of identity within six hours, ain't it?" The patterns of fireside warrior talk still came easily to him and it showed.
It also showed in the uneasy acceptance of the situation that came into the room, the automatic trust of a warrior's word beginning to win them over just enough for Loki to feel safe again.
And then someone laughed.
Sif stiffened.
"Eh, a frost giant manned a spit - an Asgardian spit - just to make us fools feel better about some boyhood pranks? Knowing what realm he was born to? And the Chief here had to haul him away because he'd fall over before he'd give up? When the Allfather'd given him enough position to ignore everything he'd caused, same as Thor always has?"
"I prefer 'frost midget', if you don't mind," he responded politely through his shock, earning a few more laughs here and there.
That's what Mother noticed about us, Loki thought in shock as others joined in the laughter and it turned more and more good-natured as the seconds and minutes passed and he was drawn into back-slapping and shoulder-squeezing affection. Thor ignores, I takes responsibility. Only I hadn't tried fixing things openly before, so no one saw anything but blame on my head...
They'll tell the tale while I'm gone. The Jotun-born prince risking his health for the sake of kitchen servants' feelings. By the time I get back...
I've won. I didn't even know I was fighting a war but I've won. I just have to survive long enough.
And get my brother back.
And then the affection shifted, changed, became less about affirming a relationship between ruled and ruler's family and more about wishing him well for the journey to who knew where for who knew how long.
And then it was them - five young warriors out of their depth, one old warrior of a chief cook, and a raven perched on Volstagg's broad shoulder and pecking bits out of his ample beard as they went - back in the tunnels and working their way to the stash of weapons and armor the youngsters kept for sneaking off near the stables closest to the Bifrost.
There, then the stables, then the Bifrost, and then a realm beyond, the unknown destination closer with every step and the royal quarters he had occupied since he'd come to Asgard feeling farther away than they ever had.
