"Come." Thanos pulls out a chair at the head of the table and sits. "You are not re-thinking your challenge surely? And without even tasting what I have provided?"
"Courage my friend." By some effort of will, Fandral keeps his debonair smile, but he throws a glance at the plates of food (if such this mess can be called) and his face goes greenish. "Tales will be told of your valor."
"This is a battle like any other." Hogun claps Volstagg's shoulder. "You fight for the honor of Asgard. And you die, the Valkyries will surely carry your soul to Valhalla."
Volstagg pulls out a chair and sits. "I will not die." He tucks a napkin under his chin, clasps knife and fork in his big hands. "The food does not exist that can best Volstagg the Voluminous. Look to your laurels, Titan-God." He dips a spoon, lifts it. The substance clings, then oozes off as though alive. By a miracle, Volstagg does not look deterred. "Today you will be beaten," he says.
There is a laugh from Thaos. At his place, he is already shoving the food into his mouth. "One hour," he says. "I give you one hour: We will see which of us can eat more of this feast I have provided. Your words are vainglorious, stout warrior. They come pitiably, from one who has not yet had so much of a taste of what I offer. Is there more to the Aesir than this hollow bragging?"
Loki dips his own spoon. He puts out his tongue and barely tastes, the food meanwhile, appearing to do its best to crawl away from him. Swallowing down nausea, he barely manages to get a bit into his mouth, where it burns with a caustic pain, as though eating a hole in the tissues.
Under the table, he lifts a hand, works a quick spell just to save himself from injury. Inside his mouth, the taste changes and becomes bearable. The burning pain disappears.
An idea lights in his mind. "Lord Thanos, you set the bar too low in this battle," he says. "You must make this more difficult." Rising, he seizes the serving bowl, and adds huge spoonfuls more to Volstagg's serving. That he speaks a small incantation as he does it, is not easily seen. Thanos, with his face deep in his own bowl, does not notice. Loki can only hope that the Warriors Three are more alert.
"Eat. Show Lord Thanos your appreciation for the food he shares." His tone is sneering, his face, hopefully, shows a little more encouragement. Scooping a spoonful from Volstagg's bowl, he shoves it into the warrior's mouth.
Volstagg makes a little eeping sound as the food comes close, and his eyes grow round and bulging. To his credit however, he doesn't protest, and when the food goes in, he swallows it down willingly enough. Once it's in, he throws a quick look Loki's way. The taste, now rice pudding-like, hopefully meets with his approval. Then he starts shoveling food into his mouth as fast as possible.
A noise of approval from Thanos. "It seems some among the Aesir at least, have a cultivated palate." He beams at Volstagg. "Remind me after I defeat you in this contest: Before I send you to your fate, I will allow you to try another delicacy. You start with the souls of murdered children..."
Loki turns a little green, and he casts a look toward Volstagg, hoping the talk does not disturb him. The stout warrior's got his head down though. He shovels food in as though his life depended on it, – Which it does. – apparently, undisturbed. Then he pulls the serving dish his way and refills his plate.
Volstagg starts on his second bowlful, apparently as hungry as ever, but Thanos is already on his third. The mighty supplicant of Lady Death may have renounced bodily pleasures, but he seems to have kept his capacity for them. Time, perhaps, for a Trickster to even the balance.
"This delicacy of yours," – This terrible, nightmare-inducing delicacy... – "I didn't quite catch the recipe?"
"No matter surely," said through a mouthful of whatever abomination fills Thanos' bowl. "It is not what I served you today." He looks up from his food, casts an eye around the table. "Why look: None eats besides the fat one. Truly, the Asgardians are a weak breed."
Loki just dips the tip of his spoon. He raises it, eyes the contents with feigned suspicion. "Weak perhaps," he murmurs. "Our kitchens traffic in the fruit of the field, and the flesh of slaughtered beasts. And yours, My Lord? What do the cooks use in Chitauri kitchens?"
A snort. "The Chitauri eat what I tell them to eat. You do not think I give my slaves such delicacies as this for their tables?"
Hmm, the Chitauri are luckier than Loki thought...
"My own kitchen now, that is different." – Thanos has not set his spoon down, but it dangles unfilled in his hand. And to his right, Volstagg finishes his second plateful, and eagerly serves a third. – "My kitchen traffics in the fruit of war, and the flesh of slaughtered innocents. Loki of Asgard, is it not enough to make your mouth water?"
On either side, stricken eyes and pale complexions. Simple brawlers, still innocent at heart, Fandral and Hogun both are repulsed. No matter, as long as Volstagg remains undeterred by the conversation.
"You have shown me so much," – Blocking the memories, holding back any thought of what he was shown after he first fell into the Titan's realm, and of how he was shown it. Now is not the time, by the Norns, now is not the time! – "but never this. Why not, My Lord?"
"Oh indeed!" A laugh. "I was to show all my favorite pleasures to a servant! Do you remember when you came to me, little Prince?"
Loki closes his eyes. He remembers, oh, he remembers. ...But at the back of his mind, the awareness:Volstagg is still eating, and Thanos, for now, has stopped.
"Such an angry little thing you were, talking of your brother, and of the Throne that should have been yours. You wanted revenge, and like a baby, you seized the first weapon that was at hand. Little Prince, little fallen Prince: Not all who wear a man's form are men in their hearts. Yours was the heart of a child, and so easily turned to my purposes. I laughed when you were defeated. My Chitauri are expendable, but look what I gained: I can reach through your mind and touch any in Asgard. Today it will be these brawling monkeys who fall; who knows who it will be tomorrow? Heimdall perhaps? Or the Lady Frigga? Perhaps the All-Father himself?"
Loki feels the eyes of his comrades upon him. Confused eyes, angry eyes, judging eyes. His hands are fisted, nails digging into the palms. A thousand times they looked at him like this in childhood. It was ever his fault with them, never Thor's, never their own.
"Thor cares a lot about you." Fandral breaks the silence. "How can you talk of revenge?"
"The All-Father took you in." Hogun looks at him, accusing eyes, under his furred helmet. "He raised you as his own."
"I know what I am." Loki's voice is low. For a moment, it is all he can think of: What he is, he is alien, foundling, monster. Did he think he could ever fit in with the Aesir? Did he think he could make a contribution?
He hears Thanos' laugh as if from way off. "A child, yes, that's what you were. So easy to manipulate, so easy to knead and form to my own purposes. You begged for a chance to prove yourself, to prove that you were worthy, Prince of Asgard. – And you were eager to lead my army. You'd have jumped into battle then and there, as soon as the sceptre was in your hands. I know you, Loki of Asgard. I know you inside and out."
"Loki, is this true?"
Dimly, he hears the question, more clearly, the answers that clamor in his head. Yes it is true, all of it, the bitterness, and the vengefulness, and the delusion. Not enough that he should take arms against a benefactor, but that he should fail at it: Impossible. He is worthless, a thousand times worthless. And now he is being judged in the eyes of those he always thought less than himself, and his one slim chance of redemption is gone...
An elbow in his ribs. His thoughts stop and Loki looks up. He sees Hogun looking at him. The grim warrior jerks his head. Following his eyes, Loki sees an impossibility: Volstagg has the serving dish. He is scraping it empty. This is his eighth serving, is it not? Or perhaps his tenth? Of all men not to be distracted by tittle-tattle, he is the last Loki would have expected, and yet here it is, the proof that he was wrong. A quarter of the contest time has elapsed, and Volstagg eats on. And Thanos? He is too busy talking.
"Your porridge," the burly warrior grunts with his mouth full. "We need more."
"Oh yes, yes, certainly." A wave of one pitted, ancient hand, and the bowl refills. "There now." He looks at Loki. "What was it you were saying, my pretty Prince?"
"Lord Thanos speaks truth." Loki keeps his head bowed. The shame and the degradation are still there, but now, with them, a gleam of hope. If Volstagg remains undistracted, and if Thanos doesn't... "It is all true, and more as well. I had no enmity against Midgard, save that it was a plaything of my brother, the beautiful, golden Thor. I sought conquest only so that I might take something that was his. – I'd as soon have taken his woman instead, if I thought I could have turned her heart away from him and toward me."
"Like when you cut Sif's hair while she slept." It is Hogun who speaks. Fandral still watches silent, on his face, a mixture of shock and anger.
"Yes, exactly like that," Loki says. "I could not make her look at me as she looked at Thor, and so I took the golden curls that were her greatest pride."
"Were you always like that then?" A laugh of pure amusement from the Titan (who is still not eating, Loki notices). "My little Princeling, petty and vindictive from his very birth! Are all the Asgardians like this then?" He looks around the table. Incredibly, his gaze goes toward Fandral and Hogun, and completely passes by Volstagg, who still eats on as steady as a machine. "Tell me, good warriors, do you claim him as one of your own?"
"Who, Loki?" Fandral's eyes are wide. "I never..." He starts suddenly. Hogun has kicked him under the table, Loki thinks. "Never," he says. "Never for a moment did we truly think him one of our own."
Deception or no deception, the words hurt. Fandral has never been anything but friendly before.
"It came as no surprise to any of us," Hogun says, "when we learned his true parentage. The Jotnar are a brutal, treacherous race, and now, when he gets a little power, what do we see from Loki but treachery?"
And Hogun! The grim warrior was never a friend, but he was a comrade! They stood together in battle.
"How amusing." Pleasure curls through Thanos' words. "It seems I am using an ancient foe of Asgard to bring down your puny realm. No doubt these ...Jotnar will be grateful. – I shall have to destroy them next."
"The Jotnar have no love for me." The words are pulled out of him. Shaming, humiliating, bitter words: Is this deception, or self-flagellation? "Not after I killed their king."
"You, Loki?" Is this news to Fandral? His expression of surprise appears quite authentic.
Hogun, however, takes it fully in stride. He merely nods. "The story was that Loki offered Laufey the chance to kill All-Father while he slept. Then once he had him there, he slaughtered him where he stood."
Thanos seems to have completely forgotten the food. He stares at Loki, an amused grin on his face. "Really, is this true? And this Laufey, he was kin to you?"
Low-voiced: "He was my father."
A shout of laughter from the head of the table. Thanos laughs, a grinding sound like bones being pulverized against sharp, sharp rocks. "Truly, Loki of Asgard, you are an accomplished traitor. Already you have killed one father. Soon I will use you to kill the one who called himself your father."
"Best have a care, Titan-God, lest the Trickster turn and betray you as well."
Hogun's cool words. Through the shame of hearing his past misdeeds trotted out, Loki feels a chill. If Thanos hears the truth in those words...
Another laugh, smug and incredibly condescending. "You presume to warn me, little warrior? Do you forget to whom you speak?"
Relief floods. But who would have known Thanos would be so vain? "Your petty kings trusted Loki as a man. I use him as a tool. And when a tool loses its edge..." He makes a gesture of contempt, as of flinging something in a trash heap. Sickening bitterness crawls in Loki's chest. He would have Volstagg to win only so he can show up this monstrous heap of vanity ...only so the others will see what a Trickster can do.
Surreptitiously, he checks the time: Scarce halfway through the competition. Again, Volstagg is at the serving dish, and what of his competition? Thanos must yet be lulled with more tales of Loki-the-Failure. No need for him to tell them any more, at any rate. Hogun takes to the task so willingly.
"I was there when Loki first learned of his Jotun ancestry," he says.
"Oh really?" How to describe the interest and pleasure in the Titan's voice? Oh, Hogun is a very Scheherazade! His ability to spin a tale has been wasted all these years! "And who are these Jotnar? What sort of creature is my little toy?"
"They are known as Frost Giants: A monster-race, blue-skinned, uncouth given only to fighting."
Fighting, ah yes. So very unlike the higher pleasures of the mind, favored by the Warriors Three.
"All-Father has made every effort at a treaty with them, and yet they will not lay down their arms. My friends and I have joined many a sortie into their realm."
"And Loki: What of him?" A greedy voice. "Did he go with you? Do battle against these monstrous kin of his?"
"He went." A contemptuous snort. "He was never at the head of the battle. Loki's weapons were spells and trickery, and pulling an honest day's combat out of him was a chore."
Loki bites at his lip. Is this what Hogun really thinks, or is he playing along with the deception merely? He is a master deceiver himself, and by the Norns, he should know this, and yet, he cannot tell. The words spilling from the grim warrior's lips are the ones he's expected all the time they've been together. They go with the little slights, the small criticisms, the expressions half-seen, that have crossed the faces of all the Warriors Three, and his brother's face as well, when they thought he was not looking. He grinds his nails into his palms. There'll be blood there when he looks, he thinks. No doubt Thanos will find that amusing. And Hogun the Grim, what will he think? Will it be one more evidence of weakness, from one who was never "a true warrior"?
"He fought for me." Thanos smirks. "He was not very good at it. I wondered why he failed so signally."
"Not very good"? Did he not steal the Tesseract? And the brains necessary to use it? Was it not his work that opened the portal that let the Chitauri in? That cursed horde of mindless drones: Their sheer numbers were not enough to outmatch the courage and intelligence of Midgard's defenders, but how is that Loki's fault? Was it he who made them like that?
Hogun nods, as if in agreement. "Best you should have given him spells to do, and saved the combat for real warriors. – Ah, who fought alongside him," he asks.
Volstagg's bowl keeps filling; Thanos' sits, still half emptied from before the conversation began. Time passes, and every moment their victory is more sure. And will they win, only to commence fighting among themselves afterward?
"That was my Chitauri that fought." Thanos is still quite taken with Hogun's conversation. "They are cannon fodder merely, and need a skilled commander to lead them."
"And you gave the job to Loki?" Hogun shakes his head, tsking.
Thanos frowns. But even now, even in his anger, his mind is on the conversation, not on the untouched bowl of his food. "Part of my plan," he says. "A carefully thought-out plan: Had I won, that would have been good, but don't you see, having lost, I gain so much more."
A tilted head, a curious look from Hogun. - Fandral still looks from one to another, completely confused. They lost him about the time this became a competition to see who could insult Loki the worst. He has a good heart, Loki thinks, whatever his flaws. – "What do you gain?"
"Think, warrior." Thanos laughs again, one of his tearing, ripping laughs. "All of Asgard is at my fingertips now, because of your little Prince. I have reached through his mind already, to take you and your friends. It will not stop with you. And what of the Tesseract, that I sent Loki for in the first place? That will be mine soon enough, once I take the soul of your King." -
"Loki may not be one of ours, but Thor respects him and cares for him." Now Fandrall decides to speak, the indrawn breaths and wide eyes around the table, apparently telling him that his words are greeted with surprise. "If the son of Odin respects and cares for him, we should surely do the same..."
Thank you, gallant warrior. Loki Silvertongue will surely show his gratitude for those words, as best a prisoner can. ...Provided they can escape Thanos' realm with their lives.
The Titan looks down at his plate, and it is as if suddenly he realizes where he is, and what he is doing. "Your fat champion:" His voice grates. "You think he has won? The contest is not over yet."
"No, but it might as well be." There is a laugh in Hogun's voice that was not there a moment ago. – That has never been there, the whole time Loki has known him. And this is Hogun the Grim, his taciturn nature so legendary? - He looks toward Loki, a smile lighting his dark eyes. "How much time remains, my Prince? I saw where you were keeping track."
"My Prince". Two words merely, and they will wipe away all that he said before? No, what will wipe it away, Loki thinks, will be their victory against Thanos.
"Three minutes left," he says. "And behold, as Volstagg finishes yet another bowl, and here you are still chatting with us, Lord of the Titans."
Thanos' brows draw together. "What trickery is this?" He swipes the serving dish away just as Volstagg grabs for it, upends it over his own bowl. It is empty, the last viscous drops clinging, and refusing to fall into his bowl. In a rage, he grabs Volstagg's bowl away from him.
"This is impossible," he growls. "That a weak-stomached Asgardian could eat the food of the Titans... I fed that food to Loki when he first came to my Realm. I know it cannot be done."
"B-but Loki..." Hogun gapes. He stammers, his flair for deception suddenly gone. "He is of another race than we, remember..."
Pointless to speak of course (else Loki had done it already). Already Thanos is shoving a bite of Volstagg's porridge into his gaping maw. A long pause... And then he rises, upending the table in his rage.
