A/N...Apparently it takes a busted computer to cure my writer's block...R&R, please!
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Stark Tower...
Pepper scowled at Miss Able and motioned her to an office chair. The young woman sank into it gingerly and tried-vainly-to pull the wrinkles out of her dress.
"Miss Potts..." she began coyly.
"Be silent," Pepper said crisply. Her face said I don't want any of your bullshit so don't even try.
The buxom young woman slammed her lips shut. She was promiscuous: not stupid.
"Do you know why you were promoted to First Chair?" Miss Potts continued.
Able nodded stiffly. "Miss Sauer got mouthy with Mr. Stark, and he fired her for it," she said dryly. "There was a pool in HR about how long it would take, since she didn't have...I mean, she wasn't much to lo...er, um..."
"Cat have your tongue, Miss Able?"
"Everybody knew Sauer wouldn't put out," the young woman said with a rush. "She's ugly, and she's mouthy, so nobody knew how she kept her job! It was only a matter of time!"
Pepper face tightened.
"Is that so?" she asked quietly.
"Well, yeah," the young woman said, flushing. "That's how women get ahead in business. Everybody knows that."
"Really." A small tic started on Pepper's forehead. "Is that how you advanced with Stark Industries, Miss Able?"
The curvy blond shrugged. "Not always. I mean, I show up on time and answer the phone and stuff, too, but there are always a few executives that need 'special handling'. That's just life. It used to be worse..."
"Worse? When was it 'worse'?" Pepper demanded.
"There was a bald guy running the company when I first joined Stark Industries: Stanley, Satan, something like that. The ladies in HR talk about him like he was the devil incarnate," Able shrugged.
Pepper Potts nodded stiffly. "Obadiah Stane. I knew him; he tried to kill both Mr. Stark and me."
Miss Able lost some of her color.
"Am I to understand that he slept his way through the secretarial pool as well?"
"Um, well..."
Pepper held up a hand. "Save it. I don't want to know. Obadiah is dead, and the company he tried to steal from Mr. Stark is different. This is a new millennium, Miss Able. Women are not required to trade sexual favors for career advancement: it is against both the law and SI's code of ethics. And I'll have you know, young lady, that I most certainly did NOT prostitute myself to get my position!" Pepper's face was starting to redden.
"You hypocrite," Able's voice was suddenly sharp. "Only a day ago you lectured Miss Sauer on 'dressing like a girl'. Isn't that telling her to trade on her looks? Didn't you go from First Chair to CEO by moving in with Mr. Stark?" The young blond flushed angrily. "Mr. Stark is a playboy. Do you really think he has changed? Your 'codes of ethics' are mighty rich: especially from someone who broke every single one of them!"
Pepper's face whitened; she felt sick as well as angry. Tony loved her. They had been through too much together to doubt that...
Hadn't they?
Miss Able wasn't finished.
"He certainly hasn't changed enough to put a ring on your finger," she ranted. "Oh, I'm certain Miss Sauer did her actual job, but..." the woman's eyes grew poisonous, "of course, she wasn't a threat to what you have with Mr. Stark, so naturally you would want her in..."
"Enough!" Pepper's eyes snapped. "Miss Able, you are formally relieved of your duties in the Executive Office."
The young blonde closed her mouth, fuming.
"Do you wish to retain a position with Stark Industries?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"Good," Pepper nodded. "You will report to HR tomorrow for Title 7 Sensitivity Training."
"Am I excused for the day, Miss Potts?"
"No. You will report to janitorial for some coveralls and cleaning equipment, and spend the rest of the afternoon sanitizing the copy room you and Sir Fandral violated. It isn't fair to ask anyone else to clean up that biohazard," Pepper snapped.
"Of course, Sir Fandral doesn't have to help," Able said bitterly.
"Sir Fandral is neither an employee of Stark Industries, nor human. His reputation is one reason you still have a job. I must consider the Asgardian use of magic in your seduction, relieving you of some responsibility."
Able blinked, surprised. "I'm of age, Miss Potts, and well within my right mind..."
"He's over 700 years old, Miss Able. Think about it. When Sir Fandral was born, this country had not even been discovered." Pepper let that sink in for a moment.
"Seven hun..."
Pepper nodded. "Their majesties are just over 1,000 years old; in Asgardian years, they're young adults. I would guess the same for Sir Hogun. Sir Volstagg is middle aged; you do the math."
Miss Able opened her mouth, and then closed it again. She looked slightly green.
"I think you did not get a sexual history," Pepper urged gently.
The blond head shook slightly. Pepper thought she saw the woman's lower lip tremble.
"Do you need to see a physician?" she asked gently. "The clean-up can wait..."
"No...I...I just have to see Fan-fan again," the younger woman whispered. "I have to...I need to...I don't care that he's old..."
"Miss Able?"
"He got me off five times in an hour, Miss Potts. Five times! The man has skills! If the rest of the building hears about this, I'll never have a ride like that again!" She wailed desperately.
Pepper Potts grimaced and face-palmed herself.
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"I should slap you, varlet, for the look on your face," Hogun growled.
"What harm have I given you now, friend?" Fandral did not try to hide his look of smug satisfaction. "Did you miss me at the breaking of your fast?"
"Nay," Hogun grunted. "I miss my lady-wyfe, and Volstagg likewise misses his. On sword-quests, do we not tighten our belts together? Yet you tumble Stark's ladies in waiting as if t'were common trollops. E'en Volstagg shares his packed victuals in camp, or fasts with us."
Fandral chuckled. "Green be not thy best color, Hogun. If you be hungry, but say the word, and shalt find some victuals for your manhood. The wenches o' this realm are easily persuaded."
Hogun darkened. "I honor my word to my lady-wyfe. I swore steadfastness to her. Shall I flinch on my promise because she is not by my side, and pickings are easy? May my sword shiver and break ere I break my word to Kaytla!"
"Honor is good on the battlefield, Hogun, and in the treaty-chamber as well, but for such a little thing as bodily functions we do not speak so." Fandral shook his head. "Dost not take extra helpings of Midgardian food at mealtimes? Their victuals scarcely satisfy hunger pangs. Likewise their wenches: but enough to take the edge off of desire, and not more. Tumbling one is slightly better than self-care, truly. Why worry about such weighty subjects, when such lightness abounds?"
"Prowling like a tom-cat again, is he," Volstagg boomed as he entered. "Hogun, my friend, you waste yourself preaching virtue to this rogue. He'll have none of it, sure."
"Someone must look out for the girl-children of this realm," Hogun protested. "What if he leaves one with child?"
"That will not happen," Fandral said soberly, "rest assured."
"And if the maid loses her position for the positions you put her in?" Thor stuck his head into their chamber. "You polish your own blade: go and clean up after yourself, you scoundrel!"
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"I have spoken with Fandral," Thor rumbled to Tony and Pepper when he joined them in the conference room. "He scours your machine room now, to make amends for the liberties he took with your servant."
Pepper pinched the bridge of her nose. "I just sent Miss Able to do the same job," she groaned.
"So long as they don't shake the building apart, I don't care," Tony deadpanned. "Where is Reindeer Games?"
"My brother has not yet returned from his quest." Thor looked troubled. "Heimdall assures me that Loki works no evil; his bonds remain intact. Beyond that I cannot say."
"I don't like him running around the planet without a chaperone," Tony groused, "and we have a treaty to write."
"Fear not, friend. Heimdall watches o'er Loki, and he is not the only one of us skilled in dialogue politic. I have served my father on many such errands." Thor chuckled at the look on Tony's face. "Didst think I was prince in name only? I am skilled with both law and custom, Man of Iron, and not just Mjolnir."
The elevator door opened.
"That is good to hear, Prince Thor," Arch-Bishop Gentry said. He had dressed in a regular black suit for the occasion, with his clerical collar in place, and walked with a regular wooden cane instead of the shepherd's crook. A much younger man, also in clerical garb, shadowed him.
"Allow me to introduce my companion: Father Li Joseph. He is fully accredited in both Canon and International Law, and may assist us in drawing up a treaty to offer her majesty."
The middle-aged man bowed at the waist to Thor and greeted him in fluent Korean. Thor smiled, nodded in return, and addressed the younger priest in a similar fashion. Tony just rolled his eyes.
"Well, at least the mythology department is here. I would have expected a Satanist for a lawyer, though, instead of a priest," he muttered to Pepper.
"The firm of Liu, Ci, and Fur handles insurance fraud and accident claims in West Jersey, Mr. Stark," the younger priest said crisply, "though I doubt you would find them helpful in this case."
"Well, I'll be damned," Tony said.
Father Li nodded. "Most likely."
"Peace, my brother," Arch-Bishop Gentry soothed, patting the younger priest on the shoulder. "Did I not warn you the lad was difficult? And we have a serious task at hand. Prince Thor, will your other companions join us today? This company is much shorter than when last we met."
Thor inclined his head. "Indeed they shall. The Lady Sif lingers this morn with some maids of the realm; the Warriors Three will join us soon. I cannot speak for the rest of my comrades-in-arms, known as the Avengers."
"Director Fury and a few other folks will be joining us via holo-chat, gentlemen," Tony volunteered. "Barton will call as soon as he is able. He's somewhere on the other side of the globe; I'm not sure where."
"Wonderful! We have two Catholic priests, an ancient pagan deity, several warmongers, and an atheist: all congregated to save the world. Should we not have a few Protestants to round out the ensemble?" Father Li quipped.
"You know, I think I like him," Tony nodded.
"We're here!" Dr. Banner and Reed Richards walked down from the landing pad, followed by Susan Richards and Johnny Storm. "Reed was raised Methodist, and I was brought up Baptist," he explained.
"That explains the anger issues," Tony mused.
"You know it, buddy," Bruce nodded. He turned to Father Li and stuck out a hand. "Good to see you again, Joe. Sorry about the moped."
Father LI shook Dr. Banner's hand firmly. "That's ok, Bruce," the middle-aged priest answered. "It was smashed in a good cause."
"Mr. Grimm could not join us?" Pepper asked, extending a hand first to Reed, and then to Susan Richards.
"This isn't really his Thing," Johnny Storm cracked.
"Fantastic," Tony Stark clapped his hands for emphasis. "Now that we're all here...
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Sanctum Santorum, Greenwich Village
"I do not believe anything is broken," Dr. Strange was examining Miss Sauer's swollen nose. "There is some torn cartilage, perhaps. Clea, you said she hemorrhaged before she saw you?"
"Yes. She had only come in contact with the illusory barrier when bleeding commenced," the white-haired woman answered. "The damage to her face is recent; might not her life flow from that injury?"
Dr. Strange pressed his lips together. "Some things are not forgotten. What happened to your face, Miss Sauer?"
"A rog THIELD a-gent, an a hammer," was her muffled reply. (Her head was tilted too far back for comfortable speech.)
"Some of these bruises are older than one hour," the doctor mused.
"I tipped ober Mjolnier yethterday. Fathe hit floor, and thpit open a toenail, too."
"Ow," Clea sympathized.
"No kiddig."
"I wondered," Loki mused.
"Lower your head," Dr. Strange ordered. She did, and he conjured a soft glow in one hand. She flinched when he raised the hand to her face.
"What are you doing?"
Strange saw her fright. "Shhh," he soothed. "This will not hurt."
"What are you doing?" she pressed.
Loki scowled. "Do you mistrust e'en your own healers?"
"Every recent hurt has come from a strange man who was supposedly an ally," she snapped. "Every. Single. One."
"And my name is not helping, either," Dr. Strange sighed. "Normally, I would order an X-ray or an MRI. I can get the same information-and better-with this," he passed the he passed over his own face, and a glowing transparency of his skull appeared. "Behold."
Sauer nodded, relieved, and the doctor/sorcerer passed the glowing ball over her head. "Hmm." He passed the glowing ball over her throat and down the front of her chest, ending at the stomach. "Hmm." Her nose began to drip red again, and he stopped the droplets in mid-air. "Icepack please, Clea."
"Here you are, Doctor."
"Thank you," he murmured. He floated the rogue droplets away from Sauer's face. Clea handed the young woman a facecloth, and placed the icepack on the back of her neck. "Hmmm."
"For a healer, you are remarkably inarticulate," Loki mused.
"This is a curious case," Strange admitted. "Did you hit Mjolnier on the way down?"
"Doh, juth the flohr."
"Have you taken any blood-thinners?"
"Jutht athpirin."
"That's a 'yes'," Strange noted. "Your blood pressure is higher than I like, and your pulse is elevated. Have you had any extra stress lately?"
Sauer raised her eyebrows and pulled the cloth away from her face. "Extra stress? Like, being assaulted by Fandral the Asshole, mind-raped by an alien, forced to watch the genocide of an entire planet, having fresh-murdered souls poured down my throat, watching a torture victim die, coming back with 6 extra souls and my own brains scrambled, losing my job, finding an alien woman's head on my pillow, with a message written in her blood on my bedroom wall, and then being assaulted again by one of my 'rescuers'? Like that kind of 'extra stress'? Now that you mention it..." she looked thoughtful for a moment, "yeah."
"Saucy little thing," Strange murmured to Loki.
He shrugged. "Submissive women bore me."
"In my dimension, we call that "Monday"," Clea shrugged. She frowned. "You lost your job? What ass did you work for?"
"Anthony Stark," Loki said dryly.
"Ah," Clea nodded.
"You left out hypothermia," Loki remarked to Miss Sauer. She gave him a blank look. "That is why you were in Stark's warming pool."
"I don't remember that."
"You were unconscious."
"Hmmm. How many times have you lost consciousness?"
The examination (questions, questions, questions) continued for another 20 minutes. When he was finished, Dr. Strange scowled into a levitated, expanded blob of fluid.
"Not blood," he said firmly. "This is cerebral spinal fluid, with blood in it for color."
"My brain is leaking?" Sauer asked incredulously.
"More or less," the doctor nodded. "That is not unusual. The brain and spinal cord are bathed in this all the time, and the body regularly sloughs it off. Unusual are the presence of blood, the route through your nose, and the exertion of magic."
"I'm allergic to mojo? That can't be. The only thing that makes me stop bleeding is being around him," Sauer nodded at the sapphire prince, "and he's magic incarnate."
Loki opened his mouth to retort, and then thought better of it. He pondered for a moment before nodding. "Thank you," he added.
"You're welcome," she answered. Clea handed her a cup of warm tea, and she murmured her thanks to the white-haired woman. She sipped at the tea and found it pleasantly sweet, then peered closer at Clea. "Have we met before?" she finally asked. "You seem very familiar."
"I was the old woman you met in the alley," Clea reminded her.
"I know. I mean...before today. I think I know you. Have you ever been to Stark Tower?"
"I did not mention histamines or an external casting," Dr. Strange said thoughtfully. "This pattern is familiar, but odd. I would expect this kind of hemorrhage from a pulled muscle, or even from strained lungs, but not from neural tissue."
Sauer bit her lip. "This is going to bug me until...oh! The memory isn't mine; it's Speaks-between-Peoples. She knows you from somewhere."
"I am not acquainted with anyone by that name," Clea shook her head.
"Oh, that isn't her real name," Sauer shook her head. "That's what the other aliens in my head call her. Her real name..." her mouth hung open for a moment, and she coughed, "I can't say her real name," she finished, puzzled.
Clea patted her reassuringly on the shoulder. "Do not fret. Many other-worldly names are unpronounceable to the human tongue. "
Sauer shook her head, irritated. "That isn't the problem. I can say the word, but Speaks won't LET me." She scowled. "That's rude. I gave a ghost a place to go, and she slaps me with a gag order? Don't get possessed," she urged Clea, "if you can avoid it."
"I have no such intentions," Clea assured her. "Does Speaks say why she does not want her true identity known?"
Sauer glanced at Loki, embroiled in his own conversation with Dr. Strange, and nodded. "She's afraid of him."
...
Dr. Strange turned to Loki. "This is not any external casting, of thine, mine, nor Clea's. You mentioned alien spirits within the woman. Do they speak?"
"Getting them to be silent is the real challenge," Loki said dryly.
"Are any of them sorcerers?"
"Steven..." Clea began cautiously, but Sauer's pupils had already expanded.
"Technically, all of us are, Sir Mage," Eldest answered, "but the most recent castings came from Speaks-between-Peoples, when she perceived threats to our Hostess."
Loki threw he hands into the air. "And, here we go again."
Eldest-within-Sauer extended both hands to the blue-garbed physician/sorcerer, and bowed. "We two are the Reis, Learned One. Our lives are bathed in magic. From magic are we formed, in magic do we weave, and to magic we return when our cycle is ended. In magic did we hide our younglings when the Death Addled one attacked, and from magic will they be drawn when the world spins again. We do no harm to our Hostess, but I cannot speak so about Speaks-Between-Peoples. Her magic is not like ours; she stretches the Hostess' frond into shapes it was never meant to take. She claims the right to defend the Hostess, e'en as she does her harm while doing battle."
"That explains a great deal," Dr. Strange nodded. He touched his hands to Eldest/Sauer's outstretched ones, and bowed in return. "Your Hostess spoke of six souls, yet you name only three. What has transpired?"
"Our Hostess could not house all of us, so three of us have gone the Way of the Reis. We may meet again in the spring," Eldest said, "or later, when the world spins again."
"You speak of mysteries I know not," Strange admitted. "But mine office bids me chide thy fellow guest, for the harm she does to the Hostess. May I speak with the one you named: Speaks-Between-Peoples?" He gave Clea a knowing look.
"An unsound suggestion," Loki began, "without taking..."
"Your majesty, may I offer you some refreshment?" Clea offered suddenly. "I believe the good Doctor wishes some privacy with his patient," she explained hurriedly.
"some precautions," Loki snapped, even as Sauer's eyes turned black-and-red.
The woman's hands convulsed around Strange's: snapping them backwards and twisting down at the same time. He coughed in surprise, and began to utter a holding spell, but was stopped by Sauer's forehead smashing into his mouth. She followed with a knee to his stomach, and the sorcerer dropped, coughing.
"Touch me not! I will not be lectured by a child such as you," the woman-within-woman roared. "Do not patronize or placate me, who spun magic when your father's father's father was but a wriggling seed!"
"SPEAKER!" Loki roared, summoning a holding spell. "WILL YOU AGAIN ATTACK AN ALLY? WHAT FOOLERY IS THIS? HAS DYING SHRIVEN YOU OF GOOD SENSE? STAND DOWN!"
Speaks-Between-Peoples kicked at the crumpled human lying at her Hostess' feet. She missed his stomach and hit his arm, and resorted to an energy push to knock him across the floor. She turned to Loki in fury, raising an energy ball to counter his strike, and slashed him across the face.
"'Break the chalice and the wine pours out, eh? Where were you when the Ward attacked? Should I wait forever for a heroic prince? Is one death not enough? Or has this innocent," Speaks thumped Sauer's chest with a hand, "not bled enough to prove her merit?"
"BE SILENT, WRAITH!" Loki roared. "Show respect for Hostess and Host!"
Energy crackled between them, Loki advancing even as Sauer's body shrank away, cringing under the millennium-old sorcerer's attack. She continued to snarl even as he tried to bring her under control, and her nose ran red.
"WHY SHOULD I OBEY YOU, LIE-SMITH? YOU KEEP COMPANY WITH OATH-BREAKER, AND BETRAY YOUR KIN TO SAVE YOUR OWN HIDE! YOU DID NOT STAND UP TO ODIN, SO HOW CAN YOU OPPOSE THANOS?!"
"COWARDLY, WHINING SHADE! MEWLING QUIM, WHO TWISTS THE BORROWED BODY OF A CHILD! WHAT ELSE..."
"DO. NOT. NAME. ME. CRAVEN. YOU BEAST-RIDDEN ERGI!" Speaker/Sauer roared back. "AT LEAST ALL OF MY ISSUE WERE BORN A-PURPOSE, AND CAN SPEAK WITH INTELLIGENCE! CANS'T SAY THE SAME OF THY FIRSTBORN? YOU BERATE ME FOR PROTECTING MY ONLY HOUSE, WHEN YOU HAVE NE'ER TASTED DEATH!"
Loki, enraged, turned a deep purple. "NECROMANTIC PEDOPHILE! HOW LONG DID THANOS..."
"ENOUGH!" Clea thundered. Her comely form disappeared in a flash of purple flame and smoke. In its place stood a 15' tall humanoid female, with white flame for hair and wearing black leather armor. Her hands ended in talons, her feet in spiked boots, and dark purple wings churned the air. The uncloaked alien swept Strange and Loki aside, and placed herself between them and the shaking, possessed woman. The stench of sulfur filled the air.
"ENOUGH OF THIS FOOLERY! DO YOU NOT SEE THAT SHE FEARS THE MAGIC OF MEN? YOU WHO KEPT COMPANY WITH THANOS, DO YOU NOT REMEMBER HIS TENDERNESS? HIS COMPASSION? AND YET YOU BERATE HER FOR FEARING MORE PAIN! AND YOU, SORCERER SUPREME, YOU WERE TOLD OF HER MIND'S VIOLATION, YET YOU ASK NOT FOR THE COUNCIL OF THE ONLY WOMAN PRESENT, WHO KNOWS OF SUCH EVIL FIRST-HAND? THINK YOU BOTH THAT THE ANSWER TO EVIL MEN IS NOT A WOMAN'S TOUCH? A POX ON YOU BOTH!"
"Darling Clea, you are absolutely right." Strange picked himself up off the floor and dusted off his robes. "I apologize for my rudeness. Speaks-Between-Peoples-and Miss Sauer-I apologize to you both as well, for any discomfort I have inflicted upon you. I should have consulted with Clea for the damage to your mind, of which you informed me. She is the expert in such matters."
Loki opened his mouth, and then shut it again. He sidled over to Strange even as Firenze-Clea turned to face Speaks-within-Sauer.
"Feisty little thing," he murmured.
Strange shrugged. "Ordinary women bore me."
Loki nodded. "Is she often like this?"
"Only when she is pissed off." Strange gave Loki a knowing look. "No, not often. My survival skills are better than that."
Firenze -Clea held out a taloned hand to Speaker-within-Sauer, who stared up at her with wide eyes. "Be not afraid. I will do you no harm."
Bloodshot, wide-pupil eyes blinked and spilled tears. "You...you're that Clea? Your visage mirrors thy mother!"
Firenze-Clea shrank a bit. "You knew my mother?"
Speaks-within-Sauer shook her head. "Nay. I only saw an image of her when I...when I tarried with Thanos. He often spoke to her brother, seeking his counsel, through a glass in his chambers. Your mother mentioned her lost child Clea, and her brother did strike her, for sentimental weakness."
"Her brother?" Strange interjected, alarmed.
"You were in Thanos' chambers?" Loki added, disgusted.
"YES!" the haunted woman shrieked. "YES! I LAY WITH THANOS! Would you know how many times? What he did to me? WHAT HE TOOK FROM ME? And all the while, I was in the guise of your daughter! My knowledge of his means and tactics, his weaknesses, was DEARLY BOUGHT!" Her hands closed into fists, and her body began to shake. "HE HAS MY YOUNGEST SON EVEN NOW! WHAT DID YOU DO, WHEN ODIN TOOK YOURS? WAS I TO STAND ASIDE, AND LET THANOS HAVE HIS WAY WITH MY BONE AND FLESH? YMIR FORBID THAT I STAND ASIDE, AND DO NAUGHT!" she shrieked, flailing her hands in despair.
Loki's face curled with disgust. "You lay with him, to gain what? Information? Your spawn's freedom? Was it worth prostituting..."
"Your majesty, with all due respect, be silent," Dr. Strange insisted. His face turned the same shade of red as his cape. "Your scruples are odd-placed, considering what you have done to save Asgard! Or is the tale of Slepneir's conception incorrect?"
Loki scowled, but fell silent, seething.
"Thanos has your child?" Firenze-Clea shrank a little more, gradually resuming her human form, and reached her hands out to Speaks-within-Sauer.
"He has many, stolen from a thousand worlds," the ghost confessed. "Some he trains to maim and kill, and some he eats, and some he sacrifices. I think," she hesitated, "I think that my boy may be still alive, an' in Thanos' custody. I would trade what I know of Thanos, for his safety e're I pass from this body."
"Agreed," Strange said, in a voice that shook the chamber. "If necessary, I will rescue him, and raise your son as my own," he added.
"A noble gesture, good doctor, but the child is half-Jotun. He may not be able to survive in this clime," Speaker admitted.
"I am full-blood Jotunheimr, and this clime harms me not," Loki said firmly. "Do not assume the lad to be so weak."
"The lad will be rescued," Strange promised fervently, "if it is still possible. I will need knowledge of Thanos' ship and magical defenses, if any."
"I shall give it thee," Speaks-within-Sauer said weakly. "All that and more, for the sake of my son." She turned to Loki. "Dost despise me now, knowing what I have done? More than you did before? Are we so different, son of Laufey and Odin?"
Loki remained silent, but looked troubled.
"My Lady," Strange interrupted, "when you speak of Clea's uncle, whom do you mean? I must know," he insisted.
"Methinks you already know, Healer," the bloodshot eyes closed wearily. Clea helped the woman sit, and pushed another sweet tea into her hands. "No need for chipping around the iceberg. Thanos has had his council for many cycles, but he kept the knowledge close, lest others," she gave Loki a knowing look, "learn it and undo his seidr. He courts the Shade, Dormammu, Lord of the Dark Dimension, in his thirst for power."