Four months had passed. In that time, Loki's presence at the Anthony's workshop had become almost commonplace. While he enjoyed the time he spent in the clever weaponsmith's company, that pleasure was not the sole focus of his visits. The Einherjar were still the best trained and best outfitted warriors in the Nine Realms, but they kept meeting unexpectedly advanced resistance from increasingly unlikely quarters. While the groups were always defeated, their weapons were of such high quality that the casualties among the Aesir were far higher than they had ever been, and there were quiet murmurings that the ruffians and rebels were only test cases, designed to assess whether a full-scale invasion by some yet-unknown foe would be likely to succeed. Whether it was the Dark Elves or the Mad Titan or some other enemy, the citizens were becoming worried, and Loki could not blame them. In fact, he was suspicious of the same plot.
Consequently, Odin pressed Loki to work with Anthony to create new, better, more powerful weapons, and with the mingling of the prince's magic and the smith's expertise, spectacular results followed. They invented swords that repelled anyone but the person holding the hilt for a fifteen-foot radius; an arrow that, once launched, shot ten other arrows from its shaft; and a cannon that produced sound waves capable of leveling anything in front of it for half a mile. The king was impressed, and Loki experienced the rare feeling of his father's approval, basking in the attention.
The one odd spot in all of this was Obadiah Zebediahson. The man made Loki's flesh crawl, and he could tell Anthony felt much the same. The older man never said or did anything specifically wrong. He spoke respectfully to Loki in the same tone every courtier used. With Anthony, he was more relaxed, inquiring after his projects and smiling at all the right times, but the smile never reached his eyes. As much as Loki liked snakes, the man's gaze reminded him of a serpent watching prey from tall grass, and it chilled him. Peter tended to put himself as far from the man as possible, almost as though he sensed something. Still, Obadiah had been a friend of Anthony's father, had helped raise Anthony after the death of his parents, and from all appearances was a good, loyal friend as any rational person could see.
Loki, however, had never been fond of perfectly rational conclusions. He disliked the man on gut instinct and had no guilt over it. However, it was Anthony's workshop, not his own, and he said nothing, though he did keep a close watch on him.
"I still wish we could lay hands on some of these weapons that are being used against us," Anthony said at the end of another long day, surveying the newest order they had completed. "It's maddening that they never remain intact when the Einherjar capture them."
"Either they have some kind of automatic incendiary capability or another mage is involved, but without exception, the moment one of our warriors picks them up, everything turns to ash," Loki said. "There's nothing that can be learned from it."
"Shall we adjourn for dinner?" Anthony asked, taking his cloak from a nearby hook and tossing the prince his own from one he had hung next to it.
"Yes," Loki said, watching as the dark red cloak was wrapped around the man's strong form. He realized he was envying the fabric for clinging so close to him and promptly felt like a fool. "I believe it is my turn to treat you."
The short walk to the tavern was familiar now. Peter almost always went home to his aunt's for dinner, but the pair of them had become a common sight at Rhodey and Pepper's establishment. Loki often felt more at home there than at the palace now.
"I wonder," Tony said later, sitting across from him at the table in the tavern that was now their usual dinner spot. "Even ash may tell tales. If it happens again, try to preserve a sample of it."
Loki agreed, but he silently thought the idea futile, not unlike his continued feelings for the other man. While familiarity often could breed contempt, that had been anything but the case for him with Anthony. Over the weeks they had worked together, he had grown increasingly smitten with the handsome weaponsmith. When less busy moments were present, they traded banter and ideas on all sorts of topics, from literature and art to what cobbler sold the best boots. Anthony had a keen mind, and that alone was often enough to have Loki half in love with someone.
But he was being careful, not quite letting his interest be visible. Loki was well aware there could be problems when a noble courted a commoner, even one as influential and wealthy as Anthony Howardson. He had no desire for the man to feel pressured, or worse, compelled to submit to Loki's feelings as a duty to his sovereign's son. That would be far worse than never having him at all. For that reason, he felt like he was playing a silent game of chess, waiting for the other man to move the first piece, when in truth Loki was not even sure Anthony was aware a game was being played.
"Peter did very well today," Loki mentioned, bringing up a subject that never failed to make Anthony beam.
"He did," Anthony said. "His ingenuity increases day by day. His aunt has much to be proud of."
"His aunt is indeed a worthy lady," Loki said, having met the formidable Aunt May several times now, and he had one or two suspicions about her. He decided to test a theory. "She is very lovely as well."
"A comely woman indeed," Anthony said, but not with any particular lasciviousness or even interest. Then a sly look came into his face. "Loki, are you taken with her?"
"What? No!" Loki said, realizing his ploy was backfiring. "No, no, I merely wondered if perhaps, should you show interest, you might be able to make a real family for Peter."
"Peter already is part of my real family," Anthony said firmly. "I need not wed his aunt to make that any more definite. He is my son in all ways that matter."
"But if you were to marry and have a son by blood?" Loki said.
"Then I should have two sons," Anthony said. "Peter's spot in my heart will not be usurped, even if it were ever shared, but I do not think that way is likely for me."
"Oh?"
"No," Anthony said, using the last of his bread to scrape the bottom of his bowl. "If I were to have taken a woman to wife, it would have been Pepper. But in truth, I did not love her in that wise, and I do not think another woman draws breath in this realm or any other who could write her name upon my heart."
Perhaps it was the ale or the many hours of work or the uncertainty that had haunted his steps for the months that he had spent near Anthony, but Loki drew a breath and, noting the lack of anyone else within earshot, he said quietly, "And could there perhaps be a man who might match you?"
Anthony's head turned quickly in Loki's direction with an air of surprise, and for a horrifying moment Loki thought he might be angry or even appalled. The attitudes on Asgard towards men who loved men ranged the full gamut from easy acceptance to loud hatred, but Anthony had never struck him as one to fall into the category of the latter stupid brutes. Still, to admit to such a tendency had its risks, and Loki might have sent his rook too far into enemy territory.
But then, after a glance that confirmed they were alone, Anthony looked down into his empty bowl and smiled with a wistful gentleness, then nodded.
"There could," he said.
He lifted his gaze towards Loki's, and the prince's breath was taken away at the hope in the other's eyes. Loki carefully moved his hand so that his fingers barely grazed Anthony's. A flush crept up the other man's neck, and he cleared his throat.
"But not just yet," Anthony said, breaking the moment by lifting his hand to motion Rhodey to the table.
Loki backed up a little, only just realizing he had been leaning forward towards Anthony, and he felt himself start to breathe again as the dishes were taken off to the kitchen and the last swallow of ale eased down his throat before the mugs were whisked away as well. It was his turn, so Loki left the coins on the table to cover the meal, then the pair of them walked out the door and into the quiet street. It was later than Loki had thought, nearly midnight.
"Anthony," he said softly, prompting them to stop just outside the workshop, "I know our work is of paramount importance now, and distractions cannot be allowed."
"Regrettably so," Anthony said.
"But when the situation is at last resolved," Loki said, drawing a breath that shuddered slightly, "would you do me the honor of permitting me to court you?"
Loki felt Anthony's hand touch his own, the rough fingers of the weaponsmith gentle against the prince's smoother skin.
"Yes," he said, a simple word that carried the warmth and light of a thousand suns.
"Then I bid you goodnight so that I may be here all the earlier to help unriddle our problem," Loki said, smiling in turn, and whatever Anthony saw on his face, it made the weaponsmith's smile deepen further.
Anthony unlocked the door of the shop, and with a glance over his shoulder and a playful wiggle of his eyebrows that made Loki chuckle, he went in and shut the door again. Loki took a few steps down the street before he readied himself to teleport back to the palace, but just as the street was fading from view and his own rooms replacing it, he caught sight of Obadiah standing at the upstairs window, looking down into the street with a frown, and for some reason, despite his happiness, Loki's blood ran cold.