Note: In which everyone talks at once. Also, there is a reference to a limitation on Heimdall's powers that is probably not canon. I just make this stuff up.

Speaking of which, I am also playing fast and loose with further elements of mythology. When I was reading up on my villain, I discovered there is actually a Marvel villain based on him (WHO KNEW?) and as a result this story uses a mishmash of myth, Marvel, and me. These things happen.

Chapter Nine

It was late evening as Loki, tired and hungry and very excited, flew back to the helicarrier. The airship was considerably farther to the north and east than it had been that morning when Loki flew away, but its size still rendered it easy to find. He wondered briefly whether the sorcerer they sought realized this great vessel was looking for him, and also what he made of it.

He landed on the railing that hemmed in the flight deck and croaked hopefully. Apparently, his friends were keeping watch for him, because almost immediately George and Mitchell came rushing onto the deck.

"Loki? That is you, right?" Mitchell said, sounding both relieved and very anxious. Loki flew to his shoulder and made affectionate noises in his ear. "Thank God. George, can you go find Thor? Just- give us a few minutes for Loki to get changed and dressed, okay?"

"Sure," George replied, and ran off. He had scarcely looked at Loki, who recalled, with a sinking feeling, that he had been in a nasty temper when he flew away earlier. It must have been worse than he remembered. Clearly, he owed everyone an apology.

He would have offered one, but by the time he was back in his own form and clothing there came a pounding on the door of the barracks room and Thor's voice outside.

"Loki? Are you in there?" He sounded much angrier than Loki thought the earlier outburst warranted. Loki began to wonder what he could possibly have done and, in bird form, forgotten about.

He started toward the door as Thor came crowding in, with Stark and Coulson behind him. At the expression on his brother's face, Loki took a step backward. Thor did not seem to notice.

"Where have you been?" he shouted. He had not been this angry when he burst into the cell to rescue Loki from the restraints. He had not been this angry when Loki attacked him on the Bifrost. He had not been this angry after Loki killed him. Loki could not recall ever seeing Thor this angry, if you did not count berserker rage in wartime.

The only explanation he could think of was one that made Loki nearly as furious himself.

"Obviously, I was off scheming nefarious deeds with my evil cohorts," he snapped.

"Do not mock me, brother," Thor growled.

"Mock you? Why would I do that? Just because you thought I had changed sides and joined the -" Thor grabbed Loki by the shoulders and jerked him forward. Mitchell took a step, then hesitated when Thor did nothing further. "Ouch," Loki said sullenly, although the grip did not actually hurt.

Thor let go of Loki and held his hands up, as though he was afraid of what he might do if he touched his brother again.

"I thought you had been captured. I thought you had been attacked by a hawk. I thought some idiot mortal had decided you were a bird of ill omen and shot you. I thought I was going to have to explain to Mother and Father that, immediately after you returned to us, I had taken you off on one of my stupid, stupid escapades and lost you, like Svartalfheim all over again only this time forever. Where have you been?"

Loki's flare of defensive anger ebbed away, leaving behind only confusion. He reached out and touched Thor's arm.

"Thor. Brother. I'm sorry you were so worried. I didn't mean to stay away all day. I truly did not realize it had gotten so late-"

"All day? You've been gone for more than three," Thor roared, but he no longer sounded angry.

"I've what?" Loki asked blankly.

"You flew away on Wednesday morning," Mitchell said, easing past Thor to stand next to Loki. "It's now Saturday night. You can understand how worried we've all been."

"Even Heimdall couldn't see you," Thor said. "Which meant you were either cloaked by magic, or-"

"Or dead," Loki finished the sentence, when it became apparent Thor could not.

"Yes," Thor muttered.

Loki, horrified at the conclusion he had jumped to himself, touched Thor's arm again. "I'm sorry. For worrying you, and for… for what I said. I had no idea I'd been gone that long and I couldn't understand why you were so angry, so I thought…" The trouble with having an uneasy conscience was, it made you think everyone else thought as badly of you as you did yourself. "I thought that you thought- "

"Well, I didn't," Thor replied tiredly. "Not for a moment. But I do apologize for behaving as though I was about to attack you. I can see how you would not take that as an expression of concern for your safety." Loki shifted uneasily and mumbled something even he could not understand.

Mitchell looked at the two, then at the rest of the group, and said quietly,

"Okay. Might be a good idea for the two of you to have a talk about this, later. For now, maybe Loki can fill us in- ?"

Loki nodded, then looked around. "Where is Annie?" he asked.

"She's with Steve. He had… a bit of a setback, when you went off with us and we didn't bring you back," Stark explained.

"I really did not mean to worry everyone," Loki repeated helplessly.

"Yeah, you've said that. These things happen," Coulson spoke up. "How about we go find Steve and Annie, and you tell us all what happened?"

~oOoOo~

Thor had another, smaller eruption when Loki explained about being inside the sorcerer's lair.

"I can't believe you would do something so rash," he spluttered.

"What would you have done in my place?" Loki fired back.

"Exactly what you did. But you are supposed to be intelligent!"

"Well, I was a raven at the time. A very inquisitive bird," Loki defended himself, then smiled teasingly at his brother. After a moment, Thor reluctantly smiled back.

"Besides," Coulson said reasonably, "he's probably the only one who could actually get into the lair, so if he'd gotten reinforcements he still would have been in there thinking he'd only been a few minutes while we sat around in the ruin for three days. I don't think there's any way this could have turned out differently."

"That is true," Thor agreed unwillingly.

George, meanwhile, was looking very thoughtful.

"The hill. Can you describe it again?" he requested.

"It sounds like Glastonbury Tor," Mitchell commented.

"I know, but I'd like to be sure," George said.

Loki thought hard about the appearance of the mound, then raised his right hand and created a small illusion of it in the middle of the room.

"It's like Star Wars," Stark said cheerfully. "Help me, Obi-Wan Kenobi."

"Shut up, Stark," Fury suggested, as Annie giggled.

"That's Glastonbury Tor, all right," George said, gazing intensely at the illusion. "Now, can you show us the armor you found in the magical hideout?" Loki dispelled the original illusion, thought hard, and cast a second, this time life-sized.

"I may have forgotten some of the details, but this is what lingers in my mind," he explained. George walked closer, peering at the armor. Loki added helpfully, "It appears to be very old."

"It's old, all right," George agreed, wide-eyed.

"All right, George, clearly you've had a thought the rest of us haven't. Spit it out," Mitchell said impatiently.

George removed his spectacles and wiped them on the tail of his shirt. "It's going to sound really mad," he objected.

"Really? Madder than werewolves and vampires and invisible girls and fear spells and Thor's brother turning into a raven and interdimensional portals where you can spend days without knowing any time has passed? Madder than that?" Stark demanded.

"He's got a point," Annie admitted.

"He does, at that," Steve, sitting as far from Fury as he could manage, agreed.

"Okay, but you have to let me begin at the beginning, or none of this will make sense," George said.

"Yeah, because that's one thing we insist on," Tony Stark said, with a nod. "All our vampires and werewolves and magical ravens and interdimensional portals-they've got to make sense." He glanced at Fury and said, "Right, yep, shutting up."

George hardly noticed the interruption. "Okay, the thing you need to begin with is this: the farmland around that hill used to be marshland, or 'fens.' Back in the Middle Ages, the monks who lived in the abbey at Glastonbury town- which was destroyed in the reign of Henry VIII- the abbey, not the town- began draining the marshes. Up until that point, the tor, or hill, was effectively an island.

"There are legends… and I can't believe I'm saying this, I'd actually thought this was discredited hundreds of years ago, it's mad-"

"George. Out with it," Mitchell commanded.

"."

"What?" Mitchell, apparently the only person who understood him, demanded.

"Yes, what?" Stark asked. "I mean, could you please repeat that? In English?"

George looked defeated. "I told you it sounds mad. Glastonbury Tor is one of the places suggested by folklore as the possible location of the Isle of Avalon."

"As in, King Arthur?" Annie demanded.

"Yes. The Once and Future King."

"You're right," Mitchell agreed. "That does sound mad."

Loki glanced at Thor, decided the total confusion on his brother's face matched his own, and spoke up.

"I'm sorry, George, but the non-Midgardians in the group are at a considerable disadvantage right now."

"It's not just you," Stark assured him. "If nobody's clopping coconuts or shouting 'run away!' I'm totally lost."

Steve was shaking his head violently. "I wasn't- I can't have been attacked by King Arthur. That doesn't- that's crazy." Stark looked at him, and Steve said sharply, "Yes, it is crazier than werewolves and magic ravens. King Arthur was a good guy. He was pretty much the good guy. Why would he attack me?"

"And Arthur wasn't a wizard," Coulson pointed out, and then stopped, looking startled and as nearly appalled as Coulson could ever look.

"Not Merlin either!" Steve insisted, catching sight of Coulson's expression.

"Certainly not the cute little Merlin in the show on BBC," Annie remarked, as if to herself. "He'd never curse anybody."

Loki walked over to the couch where Thor sat and gestured for his brother to move over. He dropped onto the seat beside Thor and the two waited for everyone else to talk themselves to a standstill.

Thor leaned over. "Have you any idea what they are talking about?" he asked in an undertone.

Loki shook his head. "None. Except for the television program of which Annie speaks. It is silly, but enjoyable. Although it is about a Prince Arthur, not a king. And, as Annie says, a young sorcerer named Merlin who would certainly never place a curse on anyone." Thor folded his arms and leaned back, while Loki propped his elbows on his knees and leaned forward, chin in his hands, cutting his eyes back and forth to watch the argument unfold.

George raised his hands. "I'm not accusing King Arthur of anything. Or Merlin."

"Well, that's a relief," Stark said.

Loki glanced up at Thor and said quietly, "I really am terribly sorry for what I said to you a moment ago."

"It's all right," Thor replied, equally quietly. "The way I was raging, you must have thought I was about to accuse you of something dreadful. Or possibly do something dreadful. I was just… I was very frightened. It makes me angry, to be frightened."

"But you have to admit," George was insisting, "it does all fit together."

"What all fits together, George?" Annie asked patiently.

"Yes," Mitchell repeated, apparently for the benefit of everyone who could not see or hear Annie, "what fits together?"

"Fear does something similar to me," Loki confessed.

"And then, as I said, I could not stop thinking of that time we left you on Svartalfheim," Thor went on, apparently under a compulsion to speak.

"Oh, that," Loki said uncomfortably. "I had not thought of that in years." He was quite sure Thor did not believe him.

"It was an accident, that we left without you," Thor pleaded quietly. "It was so dark, and when Fandral ran up to join us I thought you must be with him and I asked if that was everyone and- "

"And the others said yes," Loki prompted. Thor nodded miserably.

"I seem to recall an enchanter named Tim," Stark offered. "Maybe Tim did it."

"Shut up, Stark," Coulson suggested, for a change of pace.

"Not Volstagg," Thor amended. "He and I took the word of the others. I think... they really believed you were right behind Fandral." Thor had never been a gifted liar.

Loki, without changing his awkward posture, shrugged. "It was no worse than some of the pranks I played on them over the years."

"I don't recall you doing anything that could have gotten them killed," Thor objected. Loki looked up at him, eyebrows raised. "Well, not before Svartalheim." Loki smiled and bumped one knee against Thor's. His brother smiled back, briefly, then rested a hand on Loki's back, between his shoulderblades. "And then, of course, we made it worse by lying to Father."

Loki frowned. "What do you mean?"

Thor looked at him. "Have we really never spoken of this?"

"Thor, when have we ever really spoken of anything?" Loki asked. "You lied to Father?"

"Yes. I was too afraid to explain what had happened, so we told Father and Mother that you wanted to see how long you could live on another realm as a fox- Heimdall had told us what form you were in. I think Father and Mother assumed there was a wager involved. Meanwhile, we tried to rescue you ourselves- what are you laughing at?"

"I'm sorry," Loki giggled. "It just sounds much funnier now than it was at the time. How did Father find out?"

"Heimdall finally asked him when he intended to go looking for you, and it all came out." Thor suddenly looked like his adolescent self, uncertain under his bluster. "I really thought Father would never forgive me. Mother was bad enough, but- "

"I seem to remember a terrifying speech about the honourable behaviour of Asgardian princes," Loki remarked.

"Oh yes, by the time you were well enough to leave the healing room he had gotten on to the honour of Asgard, hadn't he? I had forgotten about that. I mostly remember endless variations on how one who is fortunate enough to have a loyal younger brother should be more careful not to do stupid things like take him off to a distant realm and leave him there to die." Thor was actually pale as he thought about it. And then he looked aghast. "Are you telling me you didn't know about this?" Loki nodded. "So you thought… you thought it took Father a week to get around to rescuing you?"

"I think I assumed he was giving you a chance to do it yourself," Loki said awkwardly. "No, really, Thor, by the time he came and found me I was just grateful to see anyone. I admit I brooded over practically everything else that ever happened to me, and remembered most of it in the worst light possible, but for some reason that incident did not feature largely in my festering. I think it was because Father really did seem glad I was safe."

"He was beside himself," Thor said. "And he was furious. The only other time he was that angry at me was the day I was banished. I suppose it's just like Father, though, not to have told you how worried he was." Loki nodded. "Well, he was. I was, too. And very ashamed of myself. I should have begged your forgiveness, but I just wanted to pretend the whole sorry affair had never happened. It was years before I could even look at a fox without feeling sick to my stomach."

"Carrion had the same effect on me," Loki replied. Thor gave him a reproachful look. Loki bumped him with his knee and smiled. "Come on, brother. It is in the past." Thor smiled back, reluctantly, and then reached up to rumple Loki's hair.

"Mordred!" George shouted.

Loki and Thor sat up straight and, along with everyone else, stared at George.

"I don't remember Mordred," Stark announced.

"No, you wouldn't know him, he wasn't in The Holy Grail," Mitchell said.

"That explains it," Stark nodded. "George, who's Mordred? With a name like that, he pretty much has to be a villain."

"There are different traditions- " George began, with scrupulous concern for accuracy, and was shouted down. Loki had always found George's streak of pedantry quite endearing, but now he was hungry and wanted a summary as much as everyone else.

George started over. "Okay, like everything in mythology and folklore, there are several versions of the stories."

Thor leaned over and whispered, "That probably means, in some versions of the stories about you, you give birth to mice and rhinoceroses as well as eight-legged foals." Loki clamped both hands over his mouth to stifle a giggle and kicked his brother gently in the ankle. Thor leaned forward, elbows on knees and chin in hands, in the same posture as Loki. When George cast an impatient look at the brothers, they favoured him with identical expressions of innocence.

"There are several versions," George repeated sternly. "But yes, especially in the later versions, Mordred is a villain, either the nephew or possibly son of King Arthur, who turned against him, attempted to usurp the throne when Arthur left him as regent, and eventually killed Arthur in single combat, suffering a mortal wound himself."

Loki sat up slightly, no longer laughing. George went on:

"In the original stories I don't think Mordred was a sorcerer, but again, traditions vary. Here's the thing, though: all this violent magical activity took place quite near what might be the Isle of Avalon. The sorcerer we're looking for woke up the magic of the, the realm. He's looking for something. What might he be looking for? What if he woke the magic with the intent of using it for his own purposes? How could he possibly control the magic of the land?"

Everyone was suddenly looking at Loki. Telling himself they were looking to him for his expertise in sorcery rather than treachery, he replied,

"On Asgard, the local magic can be controlled either through the sorcerer himself, which requires considerable skill, or by means of an implement such as Odin's great spear, Gungnir."

George smiled, like a teacher upon a bright pupil. "Thank you. Now, after the… unfortunate incident in the forest, where the magic used Loki to attack Mr. Coulson, Loki mentioned to us that magic in this, um, realm, seems to have been driven underground, many years ago. That means none of us really know how it works. But what if it operates the same way as on Asgard? What if, in order to control it, a warlock- "

"That's a good word, warlock," Stark said approvingly.

"Thank you. Suppose a warlock needs some kind of magical device to direct the power through? What does that make you think of?"

"Coconuts!" Stark chirped. Loki was beginning to entertain serious doubts about the Iron Man's mental stability.

"I'll give you a hint," George offered. "Back when the area around Glastonbury Tor was fenland, the River Brue fed into a lake."

Mitchell blinked and seemed to suddenly catch up with George. Either that or he had suffered some sort of sudden brain injury, because his next words were completely mystifying:

"Was there… a lady… in the lake?" George nodded. Mitchell asked carefully, "Did she happen to possess a sword?"

"Strange women lyin' in ponds distributin' swords is no basis for a system of government," Stark muttered. This time, neither Fury nor Coulson told him to shut up. Fury merely hit him in the back of the head. Stark, as though he could not stop himself, blurted, "Now we see the violence inherent in the system! Help, help, I'm being repressed!"

"Seriously, Stark, knock it off," Mitchell pleaded.

"He speaks the truth, however," Thor spoke up earnestly. "As a means of selecting a ruler, the method he describes seems singularly ill-advised." Mitchell buried his face in his hands, George cast his eyes skyward with a heavy sigh, and Thor looked to Loki for an explanation. Equally mystified, Loki could only shrug.

George, with remarkable patience, tried again. "The River Brue used to feed a lake. And, according to some folklore, it may be the lake at Avalon, occupied by the Lady of the Lake, who gave the sword Excalibur to Arthur. After Arthur was mortally wounded, he was removed to the Isle of Avalon and Sir Bedivere- not one word, Stark- was given the task of returning Excalibur to the Lake. All this happened after Mordred's death- or whatever it was- so it's possible Mordred doesn't know exactly what became of Excalibur and hasn't found it yet. But, in your opinion as an expert, Loki," - Loki sat up straighter and tried to look reliable - "would a powerful sword forged by sorcery be able to control the kind of magic we've been talking about?"

"I would certainly think so," Loki agreed cautiously. A further thought occurred to him. "It is also possible this sorcerer is powerful at the moment because he has been storing magic, and has not yet expended it. If we can prevent him from finding the hiding place of this sword, and if we can provoke him into spending his own magic recklessly, we may be able to defeat him. If he has been in hiding all this time, he may not even realize yet that his power is not endless."

"That's the first hopeful thought we've heard since this mess started," Fury remarked.

"Okay. So the first order of business tomorrow is to go looking for Excalibur ourselves?" Coulson asked. He paused, then shook his head. "I can't believe I just said that."

"I guess so," George replied. "If it's still there to find. I think we can bet it's been cloaked with magic, so that means Loki again. Are you up for it?"

"Of course," Loki replied, as confidently as he could.

~oOoOo~

The meeting, such as it was, broke up shortly afterward. By this time Loki was so hungry he was seriously considering biting someone. Before he could do anything rash, however, Stark paused beside him and said,

"You've been magicked away for three days. That probably means you missed lunch. Come on with me, we'll find something to eat." Loki understood this to mean that Stark wished to speak with him privately, but as long as there was food involved he did not really care. He excused himself to his friends, evaded Thor, and followed Stark to the galley.

Stark seemed in no hurry to open the conversation, instead shooing out the kitchen staff and rummaging among cupboards and refrigerators. Loki leaned on a steel counter and waited for Stark to make some sort of opening gambit.

Stark, head deep inside the refrigerator, remarked, "Ooh, bacon. And tomatoes. I foresee BLTs in the very near future. Possibly with cheese on them. You want to slice some tomatoes while I fry up the bacon?" Loki nodded, realized Stark could not see him, and made a noise of assent. "Great. Here you go, be careful with the knife, it's extremely sharp."

"I am fairly adept with knives," Loki replied neutrally, took the tomatoes and knife to the counter, and got to work. A few minutes later an appetizing smell began to emerge from the stovetop, and Stark, without looking up from the skillet, said,

"I'm sorry about that dustup we had in the woods on Wednesday morning. I'd like to say I didn't mean to accuse you of anything, but let's face it: I did. And now I feel like I was being unfair."

"It is good of you, to apologize," Loki said quietly. "I am also sorry, for flying into such a temper. I had not slept well the night before, and also… I suppose one would say I have a guilty conscience."

"Yeah, I was wondering about that," Stark said. "It's weird, Loki. You don't seem like such a bad guy. And yet, you've done some things."

That was an understatement.

If Stark was not going to admit to speaking to Thor, Loki was not going to admit to eavesdropping on them. Concentrating closely on his tomatoes, Loki said tiredly,

"There were… a great many misunderstandings."

Stark let out a bark of laughter. "Oh, come on. You're not going to try to play the 'I was just misunderstood' card, are you?"

"I do not know what cards have to do with anything," Loki replied, "but the misunderstandings were all on my part. I spent many years making myself sick with loneliness and jealousy and the conviction that I was not… loved, and then after I had brought disaster on myself and everyone I love and a great many innocent bystanders, it turned out what I longed for all that time was right before me, and I simply could not see it. I do not know what is wrong with me, that I could not perceive what was obvious to everyone else."

"Ah," Stark said, thoughtfully. "That sounds kind of familiar, Loki." He glanced up. "My old man was a hard act to follow, and I always felt like a massive screw-up compared to him. Okay, I actually was a massive screw-up, compared to him. Even after he died, I felt like I was still disappointing him."

Loki put the knife down and looked at Stark. "That sounds extremely painful." At least he and his father had finally made themselves understood to one another. They had wasted a great deal of time, and it in no way made up for the damage inflicted on others, but it was something.

"It was, when I admitted to it," Stark said. "The funny thing was, I misunderstood him, too. I didn't think he even liked me, until Fury gave me a posthumous message from him. Turns out he was always pretty proud of me. Now, why he could never say it to my face, I don't know."

"Perhaps he thought you just knew," Loki suggested.

Stark nodded. "Yeah. I think that was it. Except I didn't. Maybe you can relate to that, too." He pushed the frying bacon around in the skillet for a little longer and then said, "His business partner, Obadiah Stane, who ran the business until I could take over, and who looked out for me when I needed a dad, was a lot more openly affectionate. Right up until he tried to have me killed, then tried to run me out of the business, and then tried to kill me himself."

Loki put the knife down again. "I can see how you might have reservations about me, after an experience like that. Perhaps you feel you should protect my brother from what I might do next." He was not being sarcastic: after such betrayals it seemed an entirely reasonable attitude for Stark to take.

Stark shrugged. "I've been telling myself that your brother can look after himself." Loki did not mention his own belief that Thor was not, perhaps, quite as trusting as Stark seemed to think. It was an idea too painful to look at very closely. Stark went on, "I've also been telling myself, and this part is true, that I am probably more suspicious of other people's motives than is good for me or anyone else. So here's a promise: unless and until you do something to prove you can't be trusted, I'm going to give you the benefit of the doubt. Okay?"

"Okay," Loki murmured. The fact Stark was saying this at all made it very clear he thought there was a good chance Loki would in fact do something to offer such proof. When people are genuinely trustworthy, they are simply trusted. Still, Loki supposed this was an improvement over silent suspicion.

"Good," Stark said abruptly. "I think this bacon is ready. How about we make some toast?"