"And I hope you won't be too sore tomorrow since I plan on continuing our exercises on a daily basis from now on", Loki told Anthony with the slightest hint of a smirk.

"Are you actively trying to kill me?", the mortal whined and Loki knew that he didn't expect a serious answer.

Anyway, he responded: "No, I am actively trying to keep you from getting killed." Because I wouldn't forgive myself if you would get caught in the crossfire of my misdeeds. Before Anthony had a chance to reply, the prince vanished out of the door and headed towards Fandral's quarters. Sensing the blond's energy was not as easy as finding Anthony's – the device in his chest made him stand out like a rose among weeds – but it was familiar to him, so he knew that Fandral was still in his room. That was all he needed.

Without knocking, he swung the door open, enjoying Fandral's shocked look, and announced: "A little bird told me that you have no plans for the moment so you..."

"...can take you out for a walk through the gardens", the swordsman, having recovered from his initial surprise, cut in and flashed him one of his trademark grins.

"...will accompany me to the training grounds", Loki finished calmly.

"Oh dear, sparring? You hate sparring. Are you that angry with me?"

"As a matter of fact, I am", the prince responded, allowing the anger that had somewhat calmed while teaching Anthony to resurface.

"Oh dear", Fandral repeated and rose out of his armchair. The remnants of his breakfast were still standing on the table, now accompanied by a quill and some parchment. Poetry for one of his many lovers, probably. "Do I at least get to choose the weapon?"

"No swords", Loki immediately said. He did really not feel like losing today and Fandral was not just boasting when he called himself Asgard's finest swordsman.

"No magic", the swordsman replied, following him out of the door.

"I can stand my ground well enough without it." They began walking down the hallway that would lead them outside and towards the training grounds. "Now, do you feel like telling me what you two talked about?" Loki didn't even try to sound like it didn't bother him. Anthony, alone with a person like Fandral? In a strange way, he liked the swordsman and his constant attempts to woo him, but he also knew that Fandral was never above a little (or more than a little) flirting. It worried him, that was all. He wasn't sure how well Anthony would deal with it. There was nothing more to it.

"Are you jealous?", Fandral teased with one of his cheeky grins.

"Don't be ridiculous", Loki snapped, maybe a little too fast. "Why would I be?" He stared straight ahead, not wanting to look the blond in the eye, and crossed his arms.

"There is no shame to it", his companion continued. "If you want to..."

"Fandral, I swear, if you keep pressing on, I am going to kill you, and I am a man of my word so you either tell me what you talked about or you say nothing at all." The mage really looked forward to their spar now. He would hear what he wanted to know, that much was sure.

For now, the blond stayed silent, though.

In some way, that set Loki even more on edge. What was there that Fandral didn't want to tell him? He should have asked Anthony right away instead of releasing his anger like that. Had he done so, he would be able to compare what they said now instead of having to guess what was true and what not. But nothing had happened, right? His argument with Odin hadn't lasted that long... Only long enough for Anthony to get lost and picked up by Fandral, he reminded himself unhelpfully.

Once he stood in front of Fandral on the sand, he breathed out slowly. Of course, he had held back with Anthony – he didn't need to do that now. The Asgardian before him could – and would – take what he had to give.

For a moment, they just stared at each other in silence, both with tense postures, until Loki made the first move and surged forward. He had a hand raised as if he wanted to punch Fandral in the face, but if the swordsman really believed that his anger had taken him far enough to resort on such a simple attack, he would be disappointed. In the last moment, he ducked down under the blond's counter attack and kicked his legs out from under him. He heard him yelp and when he rolled over to get up again, Loki stopped the movement, straddling Fandral's back and twisting his arm behind it. When will they stop underestimating me?

"I believe there was something that you were dying to tell me", he stated, accentuating the 'dying'-bit with a tug at the swordsman's arm.

"You are taking this a little too seriously", Fandral gritted out. "We haven't talked about anything important – ow! I did most of the talking, he has not even said much!"

"What did you tell him, then?", Loki demanded.

"I will talk as soon as you're off my back", the blond responded. "You win this round, but there is really no reason for me to lay here and eat sand any longer. Unless, of course, you want..." He rolled his hips underneath Loki and the mage sighed.

"Not the time, Fandral, for Norn's sake", he snapped while standing back up again, dusting his trousers off. Fandral followed with a daring grin and and said: "So this is not the time, but you are not opposed to the idea? Well, I have no plans this eve–"

"I think we have been discussing this for just about two or three centuries now", Loki cut him off. "I always knew that all this hitting on the head could not do you any good, but I have not thought your condition to be this bad. Now, if you would care to remember..."

"Yes, of course, of course", the blond sighed. "I will tell you – if we go a round with swords before."

The mage sighed exaggeratedly. He seemed to do that a lot around Fandral. But losing a sword fight was really not the highest price to pay for an information like this and he really didn't want to wait any longer, so he agreed: "Fine." While Fandral ran off to get a sword on his own, Loki just extended a hand and summoned one from his own personal weapons vault. While it was not his favourite weapon and Fandral undoubtedly wielded it with more experience and knowledge, he still preferred it before brutish weapons such as axes and the like.

Two minutes later, the blond Asgardian was back and examined the weapon in Loki's hand curiously: "That is a beautiful blade. Can I hold it for a moment?"

"Not now, Fandral", the prince replied and shifted back into a slightly defensive stance. "Make your move." It took Fandral less than two minutes to disarm Loki and hold his blade against the mage's throat. In a real fight, Loki would have either just teleported away or maybe (if he had wanted to stall) even replaced himself with a clone before doing so. Now, he just raised his hands in defeat and allowed the swordsman to bathe in his victory for a moment before he reminded him: "You had your round."

"Right. Tony Stark." Loki refrained from correcting, Anthony, as Fandral's smirk faded a little and he carelessly threw his own sword aside and sat down cross-legged in the soft sand. The prince knelt down beside him and waited until the blond began: "He is... scared, you know?"

"Scared?", Loki repeated with a confused frown. "Scared of what?"

"Of being abandoned." There was nothing important you talked about, I see. The mage opened his mouth and was about to tell Fandral that he had done nothing to make Anthony think that way, but the swordsman just raised his hand and soothed: "I know, I know, you would never do anything like that. I told him as much and it seemed to calm him down, but he said he had given you anything that you could possibly want from him." He threw the mage a questioning glance, but when there was no response to it, he shrugged and said: "There was not much more we talked about. Only smaller things." Loki raised an eyebrow at him sceptically and Fandral threw his hands up. "It's called making conversation, you might have heard of it. There was nothing else, I swear."

After a short silence, Loki nodded and stood up again. "Fine. See, that wasn't this difficult, was it now?", he asked nonchalantly, but his mind was still hung up on the blond's words. Anthony still believed that he might abandon him? How must his life have been so far that he couldn't believe in a person genuinely caring for him? "How do you feel about another round?" He didn't want to think about this. Not now, not here, not in front of Fandral.

The blond glanced up at him in surprise and then asked right back: "How do you feel about losing?"

"Stop being so over-confident." Loki grasped his sword tighter while the blond picked his own up from the sand and then straightened up.

"I have every right to be", came the reply and they both shifted into their fighting stances.

Loki knew that winning over Fandral was something he would have to work for. Asgard's greatest swordsman was not a title that he had earned through idleness and he hadn't lost a duel in years. Although...

An idea struck him and Loki asked: "Fandral, did you know that the sparrows fly south for the winter?"

The swordsman blinked and lowered his weapon. "What is a –"

Loki sidestepped him, twisted the sword out of his hands and held his own blade to Fandral's throat in one swift movement, muttering "Oh my, it actually works" under his breath. You never stop learning.