The next morning, Loki awoke with a sense of mild excitement. The project of imbuing the daggers with a spell to reveal deceit was a challenge, and he enjoyed challenges. However, he had barely entered the dining room to eat a fast breakfast when his good mood shattered. His father looked livid, Thor's scowl was enough to curdle the butter, and his mother's normally kind features were shocked and angry.
"What did I do?" Loki asked reflexively.
"It is not you," Thor said, gesturing to a letter on the table. "News has just come from the battlefield in the fight against the usurpers in Vanaheim."
"What news?" Loki asked, frowning.
A band of renegades had been attempting an overthrow of Vanaheim's ruling families for the last few months, and the treaty with Asgard had come into effect. Several battalions of Einherjar had been sent to defend their allies, though the battle didn't seem like it would be one of any particular note, hence Thor's decision to remain home. The rebels were poorly armed, and while even a rock could be a deadly weapon, it seemed unlikely that there would be any real fighting. In fact, Loki was surprised Vanaheim had even called for aid.
"We have lost a third of the soldiers we sent," Odin said, not touching the bowl before him.
"How?" Loki asked, genuinely shocked.
"The rebels were far better armed than we suspected," he said.
"Even so," Loki said, "that level of casualties is unheard of!"
"Yes," Frigga agreed. "Some treason is present in all this."
"Father, the daggers Hogun mentioned to me last week proved to be of excellent quality," Loki said. "I commissioned Howardson to arm the Einherjar with them yesterday, and I will be working with him to increase their efficacy."
"Through magic?" Thor asked, his tone slightly appalled.
"Yes," Loki said.
"Is that not cheating?" Thor said, looking at his father.
"Thor, if you had a larger sword than your opponent, would you refuse to fight him? Or a better horse? Or more arrows?" Loki asked bitterly.
"Of course not," Thor said.
"Then why is magic any different?" he said.
"I don't know," Thor said crossly. "It just seems like it is!"
"And what of Mjolnir?" Loki said.
"What of it?" Thor said, glancing to where it sat next to the butter on the table.
"Typically, hammers do not return when thrown or allow one to fly," Loki said in dry voice. "You are aware it is magical, yes?"
"That is… beside the point," Thor said, failing to find a defense and resting his hand on Mjolnir's handle defensively.
"You find using your hammer acceptable, but I think magic itself bothers you because you do not know how to use it," Loki said.
"Because it is the specialty of women," Thor said dismissively, "like cooking or rearing children. There is nothing wrong with it, but it is not for warriors."
Frigga glared at her son.
"No offense meant, Mother," Thor said, blushing.
"Much taken," Frigga said, folding her arms. "Loki is correct, of course. You fear and disparage magic because you do not understand it."
Thor looked slightly chastened and remained silent.
"These daggers," Odin said, "have them ready as soon as possible."
"Father, were the Warriors Three or Sif injured?" Loki asked.
"Not seriously," Odin said. "Hogun sustained a wound to the leg that should soon heal, but the others were not listed among the casualties."
Loki nodded. There had been more than a few awkward moments between Thor's friends and him, but he had no desire to see them seriously hurt.
"With your permission, I will leave now for the weaponsmith's workshop," Loki said.
Odin nodded his permission, and Loki, giving Thor a sour glare, chose to teleport from the table to the street outside the shop simply because he could.
Loki glanced up and down the mostly deserted street. It was still early morning, but he could smell the fire already kindled in the forge. Howardson was up and working already. Straightening his cloak, he rapped sharply on the door.
"I am not yet open!" called the man's voice from within.
"I think perhaps you can make an exception," he said.
A handful of seconds later, the door sprang open to reveal Howardson, his face and hands smeared with soot.
"Good morning," he said. "I had not expected you so early."
"Nor did I," Loki said, entering immediately. "Bad news has come from Vanaheim, and the king wishes to speed along his order."
"Bad news?" Howardson said.
"A third of the force we sent was wiped out," Loki said.
"Against the rebels of Vanaheim?" Howardson said, shocked. "How?"
"They have vastly more sophisticated weapons than our intelligence suggested," Loki said, walking to a table where several of the ordered daggers were already lined up. "Are these complete?"
"Yes."
"Then if you will kindly keep the door locked, I will begin my part in this," Loki said, sitting at the table and examining one of them.
"Have you need of anything?" Howardson asked.
"No," Loki said, reaching into his pocket dimension for the necessary supplies. "Just silence."
"My apprentice will be here soon," Howardson said. "He's a trusty lad."
"You are certain of that?" Loki said, fixing Howardson with a stern look.
"I would stake my life upon it."
Loki considered before asking, "Will his presence help to expedite the creation of these?"
"Definitely."
"Then in the interest of time, I accept your recommendation of him," Loki said.
There was little conversation after that. Loki began to lay spells upon the onyx stones embedded in the handles of the daggers, and while the spell itself wasn't usually taxing, the repetition on each dagger became wearing. He heard the arrival of the apprentice, a young boy named Peter who appeared overwhelmed at the presence of the second prince at his workplace. Howardson shushed him quickly, and Loki found his assessment of the boy's skill was true. He was an excellent worker, and a pile of new daggers quickly began to form in addition to the ones already there. Before any of them realized it, the day had moved forward until the noon sun hung directly overhead.
"Are you hungry, Prince Loki?" Howardson asked.
In truth, he had skipped breakfast and hadn't had even a glass of water since the previous night. This combined with the energy he was expending on the spells was starting to weaken him.
"Did the roiling in my stomach give me away?" Loki asked.
"Perhaps," Howardson said, chancing a small smile. "I'm hungry myself. Peter, go to the baker and get the usual, with an extra for our noble guest."
The boy quickly went out the door.
"You have no idea how odd it is not to hear him talking," Howardson said. "Usually he chatters incessantly."
"Am I frightening him?" Loki asked. He realized he often had that effect on people even when it wasn't something he was trying to provoke.
"Probably," Howardson said, shrugging. "I admit to being a little afraid of you myself."
"You have no cause," Loki said, going back to the pile of daggers. "I am pleased with your work."
Peter had already returned with three parcels and a jug.
"That was quick," Loki said, making eye contact with the boy.
"The baker is just next door, and he had our order already made, so he only needed to add another sandwich," he said, his voice pitched high. Granted, when Loki had been that age, his voice had sometimes squeaked just as badly whether he was fearful or not, but he suspected the boy was making an effort of will just by opening his mouth.
"Good lad," he said, smiling, and he heard Peter release a breath.
Loki took a paper-wrapped sandwich from his outstretched hand. Howardson took another, and Peter put his own next to the hearth and ran to the next room, returning with three mugs. He poured the contents of the jug into them and then put one next to each of the men before retreating to a stool in the corner with his own. Loki unwrapped the package and was met with a simple meat and cheese sandwich on fresh bread, but the smell of it was divine. Still working with his right hand, he used his left to hold the sandwich as he took bites out of it, chewing between incantations and sipping the ale from the mug until it was gone.
Hours passed, and the sun became low. At long last, the pile of daggers was done, the last one added to the pile of those Loki had enchanted with the truth spell.
"I will have these sent to the Einherjar captain now, if you are satisfied, Prince Loki," Howardson said.
"I am very well satisfied," Loki said, standing and stretching his aching back. "There should be only one last thing to do, and that should take moments."
"Then Peter, get the delivery cart ready. After you have presented these to the captain, return home for dinner before your aunt flays me alive for keeping you too late," Howardson said, and the boy left through the backdoor. "He'll see everything arrives safely. What else needs to be done?"
"Just a quick test," Loki said, picking up the final dagger and handing it to the other man. "Now, you may either tell the truth or lie. That attack on Alfheim that happened so conveniently when the ambassador happened to be passing, ingratiating you into a second apprenticeship. Were those robbers, by any chance, hired by you?"
Howardson looked momentarily frightened, but the prince gave him a wicked grin.
"Yes," he admitted, and the stone in the handle remained black.
"I thought so," Loki said, laughing. "It was far too perfect a coincidence."
"No one was to be harmed," he said quickly.
"I have no doubt," Loki said, waving away his concerns. "Really, you have managed to impress me even more. Now, lie about anything you wish."
He looked down at the dagger, then back at Loki with a twinkle in his eye and said, "Having you here has been a nightmare, and I hope never to see you again."
The stone glowed a brilliant red, and Loki tried to stamp down the swell of hope in his chest so it wouldn't be too plain on his face.
"I believe a small celebration is in order," Loki said. "You have accomplished your task very well, and dinner is the least I can provide for such a service."
The offer could be taken any number of ways, but Loki felt his pulse race, hoping he would at least accept the invitation.
"I believe I would enjoy that," Howardson said, "but as you will be paying me for my work, allow me to return the favor and buy you a meal."
Loki's eyebrows raised in surprise, but he smiled. He wasn't entirely sure if Howardson was flirting or merely being polite, but any excuse to spend more time with the handsome and talented smith was a good one.
Howardson closed up the shop and led Loki to a friendly-looking local tavern where he waved at the two proprietors behind the bar before taking what was obviously his customary table. Loki was unfamiliar with the establishment, but it seemed typical enough: roaring fireplace, dark wood, rough hewn tables and chairs, and a variety of patrons who seemed to all be enjoying themselves. The atmosphere was refreshingly friendly and informal, and Loki took an instant liking to it. A few moments later, one of the owners, an attractive woman with reddish hair pulled up into a braided bun, threaded her way through the customers and to their table.
"Tony! It's been too long," she said, smiling warmly at him. He stood at once and drew her into a hug. "And you've brought company!"
"Yes," he said, releasing her, her smile reflected on his own face, and a small stab of jealousy poked Loki. "Pepper, obviously this is Prince Loki, a new customer of mine. My prince, this is Pepper. She and her husband Rhodey, one of my oldest friends, own this tavern, which is the finest in Asgard, in my opinion."
Her eyes grew momentarily enormous before she dropped into an appropriate curtsey.
"No need for ceremony," Loki said, whose jealousy had evaporated at the mention of her husband, or at least mostly, "and you may call me simply Loki outside of the court, Howardson."
"Fine, then there's no need to call me Howardson," the man said. "I occasionally prefer to forget my father's name. Pepper, could you get us two mugs of the house brewed mead? We're celebrating."
"Right away," Pepper said, bustling off towards the kitchens.
"She seems pleasant," Loki said, searching for a topic of conversation while skirting around the mention of Anthony's father.
"She's one in a million. I courted her for quite a while," he said, grabbing a handful of walnuts from the bowl on the table and cracking one open. "Very nearly married her."
"Really?" Loki said, surprised at the lack of animosity in his voice.
"Mmm. It would have been a massive mistake, though," he said, popping the nut in his mouth. "We're much better as friends."
"It is incredibly rare that friendship is possible after the end of a romance, whatever lies people say to one another when it happens," Loki said, eyeing him curiously.
"Is it?" Anthony said, then shrugged. "Maybe that's true, but I don't spend that amount of time with someone unless I like them to begin with. I still care for her and always will, regardless."
Loki was more than a little suspicious that Anthony was still at least partly in love with her, and Anthony seemed to read his mind.
"Had we wed, she would have mother-henned me to death and I would have turned into a lazy, incorrigible slob," Tony said. "Instead, after we parted, I set her up with Rhodey, and that's obviously gone well."
"You introduced her to her husband?" Loki asked.
"Sort of. They already knew each other. Rhodey's my oldest and best friend, so of course they'd met before," he said. "I just gave then a little nudge."
"And how did you do that?" Loki asked.
"I accidentally locked them overnight in the forge," Anthony said, then grinned wickedly, "and by 'accidentally' I mean completely on purpose, which I'm certain they realized when they saw the wine, the glasses, and the note that said, 'Quit hesitating! You are perfect together!'"
"Not that you held an opinion on the topic at all," Loki said, grinning back.
"Oh, no, completely unbiased and without premeditation," Anthony said, chuckling.
Just then, Pepper returned with the mead along with a man Loki assumed was Rhodey. She slid the mugs towards them with practiced aim.
"Tony!" the other man said, grasping his hand affectionately. "How are you?"
"Working," he said, "hence."
"You overdo," Pepper said, shaking her head.
"I do overdo," he agreed, "but I have only two modes of work: too much and not enough."
"Never a happy medium," Rhodey said, punching him in the shoulder. "What'll it be?"
"Usual," Anthony said.
"Beef stew with biscuits, coming up," Rhodey said, then turned to Loki. "And for y-Norns, you're the second prince."
Loki waved away the look of panic that he seemed to inspire in people everywhere he went. Thor most often dealt with adulation, but the populace lavished him with trembling and fear instead. He found it annoying.
"I believe I will have the same," Loki said.
Rhodey nodded and shot Pepper a look that meant she hadn't told him who the other person at the table was, then disappeared into the kitchen.
"If I don't make him lose his composure at least once a day, I'm not doing my job," Pepper said with a wink and left to handle the bar again.
The stew arrived quickly, carried by a still slightly shaken Rhodey, and while Loki considered transforming the man's shoes into fish on general principle, he decided against it. As it turned out, the meal was good, simple but warming, and somehow precisely what was needed after the constant labor of the day. They both fell silent as they ate, but the quiet was pleasant, not awkward. Eventually they lingered over the mead, and Loki watched the other customers, aware of the occasional furtive stare, but mainly they were a relaxed, happy bunch.
"You enjoyed your dinner?" Anthony asked.
"Indeed, it was very pleasant, and the mead is excellent," Loki said. "All in all, it has been a good day. I hope we can work together again."
"I would like that," Anthony said, and there was that smile again, lighting up his face like a star. "The three of us worked well together, though a more mismatched set I have never seen: a prince, a smith, and an orphan."
"Peter is no kin to you?" Loki asked.
"No. He's being raised by his aunt, who is, I admit, both beautiful and terrifying," he said, laughing.
"The best women always are," Loki said, beginning to feel that his interest was doomed to failure.
"True," Anthony said, motioning to Rhodey to bring another round when he noticed both of their mugs were almost empty. "Peter's a fine boy, though, very clever, and he shows promise of becoming a good weaponsmith himself. Perhaps the forge will one day be his."
"Then do you have no family of your own?" Loki said.
"As I mentioned, my father died when I was quite young, and my mother with him. I have no siblings," Anthony said.
"The latter is a condition I sometimes wish for myself," Loki said.
"I suppose the mighty Thor could be a little challenging to have as a brother," Anthony said, obviously being careful with his choice of words.
"You have no idea," Loki grumbled, taking a particularly long swig from the new mug.
"My father's old friend Obadiah is rather like family, though," Anthony said, looking into his mead with a strangely pensive expression. "He has certainly been around long enough."
The gaze Anthony was giving his mead said volumes about his mixed feelings towards this Obadiah. Loki read between the lines quickly and decided that, family friend or not, he would make certain not to speak of anything potentially important to the security of Asgard or its soldiers around him.
It was growing late, and Loki took note that the other patrons were starting to drift away as Rhodey began washing mugs and Pepper wiped down tables. He had really enjoyed himself, and while he had expected to be treated to a view of the handsome smith over his dinner, he found that at least as much as seeing him, Loki had relished speaking with him. While previously he might have hoped to bed the man, he was starting to reassess his goals. It was entirely possible that the other man wouldn't even be interested in pursuing anything at all with him, but right now, Loki simply wanted to spend a little more time in his company.
"The night is growing old," Anthony said, stretching.
"It is, and I am off," Loki said, standing. "Thank you for your hospitality, Anthony."
"The pleasure is mine. If Asgard is in need of aught else for our warriors, come to me and we shall puzzle it out together," Anthony said.
"I believe I will look forward to that," Loki said, smiling at him in a way that often caused maids and men alike to drop into his bed like overripe apples falling from the tree, but it seemed to have no effect on his dinner companion. Disappointment irked him briefly, but he was too tired to dwell on it.
They left the tavern, each going their own way, Anthony back to his home behind the workshop, and Loki disappearing in a quiet pop to reappear in his own chambers where, exhausted from the day, he lay down on his bed fully clothed and was asleep in moments. His dreams were filled with the heat of the forge and the deep brown of Anthony's eyes.