Two years later...
Thor stepped off of the express elevator into the Stark Towers penthouse, his hand on the back of Loki's neck. The dark prince was no longer muzzled, but his mouth worked oddly, as if his lips barely opened, and his hands were closely shackled. Fandral and Hogun brought up the rear, while Volstagg and Lady Sif stepped off the other elevator.
It had been a long two years, even in Asgard. Thor looked strained, grizzled even more than usual, his blond beard longer and curling, and with a fresh scar down one cheek. Loki's face was drawn, his hair ragged, and large dark circles set under his eyes. Fandral's usually flirtatious tongue was stilled and his (normally immaculate) hair and beard were shaggy, while Hogun sported some white hair. Volstagg looked as if he had lost weight. Lady Sif's sharp eyes gave the reception area the once over, noticing the weakness of their position.
"Not a place I would want to be in, in case of an aerial attack," she murmured, "too open to the sky, and not enough infrastructures. What are they thinking, building like this without the solidity of stone? 'Tis most like a greenhouse, this castle, and like one 'tis likely to shatter upon the slightest impact."
"Be not dismayed by appearances, Lady Sif," Thor rumbled. "Anthony Stark of Midgard himself designed and built this fortress. The windows may take a full-on Citauri strike without breaking, and the foundation goes below bedrock. It can withstand an earthquake that t'would level the city proper. The Hulk, were he so inclined, might do some damage, but e'en he would have to expend much of his strength to do so. We are quite secure here."
"What about magical attack?" Fandral's tongue had become as sharp as his sword. He looked at Loki even as he said it.
"My father has taken care of the matter," Thor reassured his friend. "Worry not."
A slim figure rose from behind a desk. Short brown hair curled becomingly around pale cheekbones, and a taupe pantsuit hung loosely from a thin frame. Dark chocolate eyes scanned the group.
"Your majesties and visitors from Asgard, I bid you good morning and welcome to Earth and Stark Tower," the slight figure said. "The conference will begin as soon as you are settled. A mid-morning break is scheduled; lunch will be served promptly at noon. May I take your cloaks?" The slim secretary stepped up to Thor first, gray eyes questioning. "Prince Thor?"
Thor scowled for a second at the formal title. He usually dispensed with formalities when in the field; he didn't like the type of attention it drew.
"This is not a royal function; my formal title is not necessary, lad. 'Thor', 'Son of Odin', or 'Mr. Odinson' will do. And I will keep my cape with me, thank you," he rumbled.
Behind him, Fandral winced.
The slim figure raised an eyebrow. "As you wish, Mr. Odinson . But once again, it isn't 'lad': it's 'lass'. I must express my surprise this time: I am not outfitted as a soldier today, and my face is no longer black and blue."
Thor almost took a step back, peering the young woman over. "Sergeant Sauer," he said after a moment, "this is a surprise."
She shook her head. "Sergeant no longer; I am no longer affiliated with S.H.I.E.L.D. I am now merely 'Miss' Sauer, at your service, sir." She turned to the rest of the group. "As for your companions?"
"My apologies, Lady Sauer," Thor rumbled. He waved his hand at the assembled group. "Here be the Lady Sif, lady-warrior of Asgard, and these other companions of mine are the Warriors Three: Fandral the Dashing (Fandral appraised her figure, then smirked and nodded in greeting), Hogun the Grim (he bowed slightly with a hand to his chest), and Volstag the Valiant ("Greetings, Lady Sauer," the russet giant rumbled.) And this," a massive hand pulled Loki forward, "is..."
"Your foster-brother, Prince Loki of Asgard, son of Odin All-Father, God of Lies and Mischief," Miss Sauer nodded. Thor raised his eyebrows in surprise. "We met on the S.H.I.E.L.D helicarrier Iolaus, two years ago." She turned to the dark prince and inclined her head. "Your Majesty, it is good to see you again. May I take your cloak?" she offered, extending a hand.
A ghost of a smile flickered across the dark prince's face. "The pleasure is mine, Lady Sauer," he said, his voice smooth and deep. He grabbed the extended hand with his shackled ones and raised it to his lips, brushing it with a kiss. "And yes, you may."
She blushed slightly at the courtly behavior, but reclaimed her hand. "Half a moment, your lordship," she said, retreating to her desk and pulling out a chair. She hopped up onto it. "You are much taller than I am," she explained, then glanced at the chain that held his cloak. "On which side is the clasp?" she murmured.
Loki inclined his eyes to the left. She smiled politely in return and reached for it as Sif spoke up.
"The chair is unseemly. Can Loki not bend over for our little friend?" she said sharply.
"Your pardon, Lady Sif," Sauer said, frowning at the taller woman, "but one does not ask a prince to bow to a smith's daughter. Not even," she paused as the clasp came open with a snap, "on Earth."
Loki's cape came away with a whisper of green silk, which Sauer deftly gathered up. Leaping down from her perch, she hung it up on a nearby coat-rack.
"Anyone else?"
Fandral shrugged and handed his black cape over with a flourish and a wink (which Sauer ignored). Hogun opted to keep his blue one on, but Volstagg surrendered his red wrap with a cheerful smile.
"Thank you, lass," he said good-naturedly.
Sif eyed the young woman with some suspicion. She mistrusted Loki completely, and the tiny (to her, anyway) Midgardian seemed to make a point of being nice to the Trickster God. "I will keep my wrap, thank you," she said stiffly.
"As you wish," Sauer said, wondering at the taller woman's attitude. When all the spare capes had been hung up, Sauer turned to the group. "This way, please, Lady and Gentlemen."
"And God of Mischief," muttered Fandral.
Sauer walked through a set of double doors into a nearby conference room, which was filled with the rest of the Avengers team and several S.H.I.E.L.D. operatives. "Mr. Stark," she called out, "the Asgardians are here." She paused as they filed in behind her. "Their majesties Princes Thor and Loki, the Warriors Three: Lords Fandral, Hogun, and Volstag, and finally the Lady Sif," she announced.
Thor looked down at the young woman. "I did tell you the formalities were unnecessary, lass," he chided gently.
"This was a formal announcement at a formal war conference, Mr. Odinson," she chided back. "Of course the formalities were necessary. How you handle things from here on is your business. Unfortunately," she glanced at the rest of the Asgardian party, "we were only expecting two of you. The chairs marked with your and Prince Loki's name have been reinforced for your weight and size, but I can't speak for the rest of your party."
"I shall handle that," Loki said quietly. He looked knowingly at Thor. "I still have some ability left to me," he said with a touch of bitterness.
Thor nodded and turned away towards Tony Stark, who was making his way across a crowded room to greet him, but Loki turned back to Sauer and took her hand in his manacled ones again.
"Thank you," he said simply, his green eyes piercing hers, "for your consideration. It is much appreciated."
Her cheeks pinked a little at the renewed contact, but she remained collected. "You are most welcome, your..."
"'Prince Loki' will do, for now."
"As you wish, Prince Loki." He still had not released her hand, and as her eyes slipped to the manacles on his wrists, a shadow crossed her face.
"Do not feel bad for me, Miss Sauer," Loki said: his voice suddenly deep and with a dangerous edge. "There is a reason for these, as well as for the binding on my mouth, which you cannot see. And do not mistake civility for safety," he added. "One does not translate into the other."
"I know," she said, brown eyes boring into his. "Civility merely shows intelligence, discipline, and courtesy. Safety is something one must fight for."
"Smart girl." He glanced down at the bulge in her sleeve. "What did you do to your arm?"
They were interrupted by Tony Stark's arrival.
"Hey, Reindeer Games! Hands off my secretary! C'mon, we need to get started," the billionaire superhero said coldly. "Miss Sauer, I need you to get on the phone with Chef Paul. We have more guests for lunch today than anticipated," he added in the same tone.
"Of course, Mr. Stark," she said, nodding. Turning back to Loki, she reclaimed her hand. "If you wish, sir, we can get caught up during the break. I must return to work, and you have important things to discuss."
"Of course," Loki said smoothly. He watched the young woman as she left the room, and turned to find Stark looking at him with unbridled hostility. "Ah, Stark. It has been too long. Did you miss me?" he purred, his familiar smirk returning.
"Not for long enough, apparently, although I must thank you for the redecorating efforts upstairs. I had a sunken garden created out of the impression you made in my floor two years ago," Stark said pointedly. "When I squint just right, I can make out your shape in the green."
Loki snarled at the man, and for a second they looked as if they would come to blows. Thor stepped between them.
"Brother. Friend Stark. We have things of more import to discuss than old rivalries," he rumbled. "We must begin. The hour grows dark e'en as we spar over old hurts."
"Of course," Loki said coldly, not breaking eye contact with Stark even as he spoke to Thor. "Just renewing an old acquaintance, brother," he added softly.
"We have another one to discuss," Thor said firmly, moving so his bulk cut off the war between Loki's eyes and Tony Stark's. "If you would be so kind as to fix the chairs for our companions," he prompted.
Loki turned his gaze directly to Thor at that, and his face went blank. "Of course," he said. With a flourish four of the conference room chairs were magically adjusted for the Warriors Three and Lady Sif's extra mass.
Thor nodded, pleased. "Come, brother. We have much to discuss." He led Loki to his chair, but remained standing even as everyone else in the room took their seats.
"My friends," Thor rumbled grimly, "it has been too long. I only wish our visit was on better terms. Our guardian, Heimdall All-seer, has identified a danger to Midgard that is beyond your military's ability to withstand. We have come to offer you our aid, if that is possible, in the hopes of saving and protecting this realm."
"What is this danger, Prince Thor?" Nick Fury leaned forward even as he spoke. "And why is Prince Loki, of all people, here with you, if our protection is what you desire?"
"I am here because I have intimate knowledge of the impending threat," Loki said coldly, "far more than Thor could ever have learned from the Gatekeeper of Asgard. I am here because, Commander Fury, whether or not you like it, you need me," the dark prince finished, his face impassive.
"And this threat is?" Dr. Bruce Banner prompted, leaning over the table to look Loki in the face.
"A Titan," Thor replied, "a being from your own solar system, though not from your planet. A mad creature so obsessed with death that he has named himself after it, and seeks to court it. His name is Thanos."
/
"No, Chef, I'm not making this up. The conference just started, and we have six Asgardians, not two. Yes," Sauer paused as Chef Paul sputtered something incomprehensible. "No, I didn't know either." More sputtering. "Look, I understand you want to make a good impression, but..." Grieve, mourn, and wail. Drama queen-king-whatever, she thought. "Oh, good lord! I told you that it was a bad idea when you pitched it! These people eat like professional football players coming off of a starvation diet! No, you cannot serve finger sandwiches and little broccoli trees!" Sputter, sputter "Those will probably be fine for the break at 10am, along with any fresh fruit you have. Do we have any cider?" Spark? "Oh, I think about 100 gallons or so should do the trick. Make some wassail out of it and you'll have some super-friends for...what do you mean, you don't know how to make wassail?"Cough, sputter, rant "Oh, good LORD, even I can do that, and I burn French toast!" Sputter, sputter Sauer's head started to pound. "Look, it's easy. For every gallon of cider you need 27 whole cloves, 8 cinnamon sticks, 1 quart of pineapple juice, and a can of frozen orange juice concentrate. Put the spices in the dispensers. Heat the juices together and pour them over the spices. Do you have any large beer steins? Good. We're going to need six of those." Sputter, wail, gripe? "No, not until dinner. Do we have any kegs in the house, or should I order out?" Moan, groan, gripe. "Fine, I can take care of that, too. What did you have planned for dinner?" Hem, haw, moan. "No, that sounds fine. Just quadruple the amount of rice you were going to make. If I get you a couple of large fish, can you broil them?" Question? "Oh, I was thinking a couple of whole swordfish and maybe some salmon. I can have it shipped in from the dock directly. You handle the desserts for lunch, and I'll order out for meat and cheese, ok? Where did you get that to-die-for pastrami last week?" Grumble. "Great, I'll give them a call. Thanks, Chef. Bye."
What the hell kind of chef didn't know how to make wassail? Sauer didn't want to know. Maybe it just wasn't a highbrow enough kind of drink. She grabbed two aspirins and gulped them down, then picked up the phone again and dialed.
"Katz's Deli," yelled the voice on the other end.
TBC