._.

Beneath

Chapter One Hundred Seventy-Six - Guests

"Welcome back to…"

"A pleasure to see you again, Tony," Loki said as Tony came to a halt just outside the glass door.

"'Pleasure' isn't quite the word I'd use," Tony said, continuing on out to the large landing area. "And I'm fairly sure Crusty and Gingerbread didn't mention you'd be joining."

"I see it's not only me you can't resist renaming. I confess, somehow that makes me feel less special."

"Oh, you're definitely special all right. You're also not invited."

"The king of Asgard himself commanded me to come here. You would refuse entry to his designated visitors? That would be poor protocol. A slight against Asgard's official representatives is a slight against Asgard, and Asgard's king." For the life of him, Loki couldn't remember why he'd initially been unwilling to do this.

"You're still talking about Thor, right? I think we can work that out. No slights against Asgard or Thor, just you."

Jolgeir stepped forward, putting Tony on his left and Loki on his right. "Excuse me, my prince, Tony, we didn't come here to cause any discomfort. It was a hasty idea, and possibly requires additional planning. Perhaps we should return another time?"

"No. No no no no. I'm glad you came. I've got a few others coming over, some demos prepared…this is important. We're doing this," he said to Jolgeir before turning back to Loki. "But you aren't necessary for it. You've stuck your designated official nose in, and now you can go home."

Go home, Loki thought with an unexpected pang. Loki of Asgard, yes. But home? Much more complicated. He grew more serious. "Thor sent me here, Tony. He wanted me to hear whatever it is you have to say. If this is to proceed, then it will proceed with me. If it helps, I promise to do no damage to your property while I am your guest."

"My guest? Okay. You two inside. His Princehood and I need to get a few things straight. Wait. Who are you?" he asked, attention fixed on Finnulfur for the first time.

"I am Finnulfur Lettason, Law Advisor to His Majesty the King of Asgard, and First Magistrate of Asgard. I am pleased to visit your realm and your home, and to make your acquaintance. And I must note that we – Jolgeir and I, at least – do not have the status of official representatives. We do not wish to take advantage of your hospitality."

"Technicalities," Loki said. "He loves them," he added in a loud whisper to Tony.

"Okay, nice to meet you, too, Finnulfur…or Your Honor?"

"My honor? I'm sorry, I don't understand."

"They address magistrates as 'Your Honor' here," Loki explained. "On Asgard, you would address him as 'my lord.' The closest equivalent here is probably 'sir,' which, by the way, would also be appropriate for me."

Tony listened, then promptly turned back to Finnulfur. "Pleased to meet you, too, sir. It's an honor, pardon the pun. Mi casa, su casa. Jolgeir, you know the way, why don't you and Finnulfur go on in. We'll just be a minute."

Loki watched with mild amusement as the other two went inside. The sun had already dipped low in the sky here; a series of directed lights came on around him that Loki assumed was automatic, tied to the level of natural light available. He faced the building and hoped their arrival had not drawn undue attention.

"Okay, it's just you and me now. No one for you to perform for. Why exactly did Thor want you here, if that's even true?"

"He believes we work well together."

Judging by the face he made, that wasn't the answer Tony was expecting.

"He specifically referred to the work we performed at the South Pole."

"Well, if he defines that as not trying to kill each other, sure, we worked great together at the South Pole. But I work even better with…let me think…every single other Asgardian who's ever been here." Tony started ticking off fingers. "Thor. Geirmund. Krusa. Hogun. Jolgeir. The Finnish judge. I just met him but I'm feeling pretty confident I'll work better with him than you."

"He thinks I bring fresh perspectives."

"I think New York has experienced enough of your fresh perspectives."

"He thinks I am less committed to traditional interpretations of Aesir honor."

"Now that I can see."

"Which makes me less likely to instinctively reject Midgardian ideas."

"Jolgeir doesn't instinctively reject Midgardian ideas."

"Have you ever seriously challenged any of his Aesir ones? I didn't want to come here any more than you want me to be here. Until I thought about the look on your face when you first saw me, that is, and then I thought I might enjoy it. But this is not how I intended or wanted to spend my day. It wasn't my idea."

"This isn't about you."

"Agreed."

"It's about Jolgeir, and others in his situation on Asgard."

"Agreed," Loki said with a firm nod.

Tony gave a sigh that Loki recognized as one of resignation. "I have other visitors coming, including a few people who've lost limbs. If you show them the slightest hint of disrespect, I'll-"

"There's no need for ridiculous threats you can't even make good on. Asgard holds its injured warriors in highest regard. I will not disrespect yours. In fact, to assuage your concerns, I will not participate in your discussions. I'll stay out of the way, and merely observe. That is, after all, all I was asked to do."

"What about your 'fresh perspectives'?"

"To be shared upon my return to Asgard."

Tony held his gaze a minute longer before abruptly turning and heading for the door. "Fine. Just stay in the back and keep your trap shut. And maybe…try to look a little less like the guy who came here saying we craved subjugation."

Loki considered it as they walked, but then noticed the cleared, freshly smooth floor. "No more indoor fish pond?"

"A friend said it was a safety hazard. Don't worry, though, I got plenty of pictures first."

"You can't imagine my relief. About the pictures, I mean, of course."

"Come on, everybody, we'll do this one floor down. All aboard the magic people-mover!"

"It's just a lift," Loki said as they followed Tony into the machine.

"So I have learned," Jolgeir said. "Tony enjoys a good jest at our expense. All in good spirit, of course," Jolgeir added with a glance Loki's way.

Loki clenched his jaw and said nothing. The initial expression on Tony Stark's face had been enjoyable, but it was a mere few seconds out of what could be a long and excruciating afternoon-turned-evening. In the meantime, Tony's phone buzzed, and he started typing something into his phone, tilting it away from Loki when he saw him looking.

When they stepped off the elevator, Loki sent his armor away, which left him in just his black tunic and black leather pants. He was now the most casually attired of his fellow visitors, with Jolgeir in a much simplified version of his old armor, and Finnulfur in his elaborately braided leather jacket and dark blue cape. It made him feel smaller, and somewhat vulnerable – he wasn't used to appearing before his enemies like this – but he reminded himself that this was just another form of illusion, and that he could call the metal pieces back in an instant if he needed to.

"Huh," Tony said, noting Loki's new attire. "That's practically jammies for you, isn't it? Do you guys wear leather to bed? Sorry, too personal. The others aren't here yet, so come on in, everyone, relax for a few. Now that Asgard's had an outbreak of peace, can I finally convince you to give some Earth mead a try?"

Jolgeir turned to Loki, followed a half-second later by Finnulfur.

"Do as you wish," Loki said with a brief gesture of permission. He was pleased to again be seen as a voice of authority to them, or at least to Jolgeir, but wasn't entirely comfortable with it, either. Whatever "authority" he had was false, built around the lie of his birth. He would happily maintain the pretense in front of Tony, however; Loki caught the annoyance on Tony's face at the others' deference to him.

"I would be glad to try it," Jolgeir said.

"I, too," Finnulfur said. "Though not a full tankard, please, just a taste. I mean no insult to your kind hospitality, but events on Asgard are such that it's best I keep my thoughts entirely clear."

"Sure. One quarter-full and one full-to-the-brim tankard coming up. Hope that's the same as a beer mug because 'tankard' makes me think of German beer steins, and I do have a collection of those, but they're at my place in Chicago. So regular old beer mugs it is," Tony said.

"The container is less important than the contained," Finnulfur said with a friendly smile.

"Is that an aphorism? Because it sounds like it could be kind of deep, if you wanted to go there. Anyway, I'm glad I finally talked somebody from Asgard into trying this. I've been stocking it for a while now, ever since this guy asked for it, actually," Tony said, angling his head in Loki's general direction.

Jolgeir and Finnulfur both immediately turned and looked at him in surprise; Loki ignored them both and watched Tony with a bored expression. Loki wondered where Tony's quest for mead had begun; he doubted it was truly with him. Hogun, who he'd learned had made an early visit to Tony, was a more likely candidate – he occasionally made his own mead, which was quite good, so everyone said.

"I've been wondering ever since if our version is anything like yours – not that we only have one version – and none of you have been willing to try it until now."

"The Aesir love of mead is deservedly famed," Finnulfur said with a nod. "But until recently we've had little cause to celebrate. Loki has managed to bring us some good fortune."

"So I heard," Tony said, pausing from his pouring to type into his phone again. "Singlehandedly convinced everybody else to stop attacking Asgard?"

"Essentially," Loki said, lingering behind Finnulfur and Jolgeir.

"Gullveig's guys left New York this morning. No explanation. This interdimensional gateway or whatever it is just appeared and they stepped into it and they were gone. Of course since they were here for you and you were clearly no longer on Earth, I guess they had no reason to stay. Hold on a sec," Tony said as musical tones came from his phone, tones that Loki was surprised to find he recognized. From the "Secret Agent Man" song he'd heard early on at the South Pole. "Yeah, Nick."

They were watching him, then, SHIELD; they shouldn't have arrived in the open as they did, even if it was high above the city streets. He'd tried to tell Thor this was a bad idea. It was too late, now, though. He was here.

"Just standing there…I don't know. Loki, you armed?"

"Of course."

"Yep…Okay. With what?"

"Four daggers." He had six, and a sword within easy magical reach.

"He says four daggers. Which probably means more…Yeah, I'm thinking that wouldn't go over well with Asgard. Thor sent him here, and he's king now…Nah, we've got this. Besides, we've got a few soldiers on the way. We're good. Aren't we?" Tony said, holding the phone up.

"Hello, Director Fury. I trust you're well," Loki said, voice raised enough, he hoped, that he could be heard over the phone. It was hard not to add something more antagonizing.

"See? We're good…Sure, we'll do that. See you, Nick. Sorry about that little interruption," Tony said, dropping the phone into his pocket and stepping away from his bar, two clear glasses with handles in his hands.

They stood in a more casual living space than the one above, two long dark brown leather sofas with lighter brown cushions along with four matching chairs and small tables between each, all arranged loosely in a circle. On the wall hung a large TV, larger than any they'd had at the South Pole, and from the ceiling hung simple chandeliers with small lampshades over the individual lights. The space was large, and continued past the seating area and to its left, where a kitchen was, spacious by Midgardian standards Loki suspected.

"Have a seat," Tony said.

Loki noted that Tony had not looked at him, and he assumed he was not being offered a seat. That was fine with him; he was more comfortable standing, anyway, and took up a position behind the sofa where Jolgeir and Finnulfur sat. Tony handed a glass to Finnulfur, and set the second glass on the table next to Jolgeir, who slid over to the edge of the sofa, closer to the table, which Tony in turn also pushed closer to the sofa. "May I assist you, Jolgeir?" he asked when Tony headed back toward the bar, making no other effort to help. He'd hoped Tony might not hear, but saw him turn to look over his shoulder. The man wore a surprised expression, and Loki hoped he was not about to ridicule him as usual, which would by extension insult Jolgeir.

"Thank you, but it's not necessary. I've figured out how to do this."

Tony returned with a third glass – for himself – and Loki watched with his own curiosity as Jolgeir leaned down over his glass. When he straightened, he was holding onto the glass with his teeth and bracing it against his shoulder. In that manner, he tipped his head back and took a quick drink; when his head came back down, as far as Loki could tell nothing had been spilled. Had they been alone, he thought he might have admitted to Jolgeir that he was impressed. In front of Finnulfur and especially Tony, he said nothing. He thought then of Jane, and wished she could be here. He'd told her Jolgeir would adapt without Midgardian false arms, and he had, even better than Loki would have imagined. Jane would enjoy meeting Jolgeir in person, in the present, and Loki thought with some surprise at himself that he might like that, too. He allowed himself a smile as he recalled Jane asking if Jolgeir was dead – Jolgeir who she had spoken with on the sat phone – and if he drank mead from the udder of a goat. Perhaps someday he would tell Jolgeir about that.

"Verdict?" Tony asked after Finnulfur, too, had tried the Midgardian mead. "Is it anything like yours?"

"Ah…no, not exactly," Jolgeir said.

"I wouldn't say so," Finnulfur added.

"How so?"

"It's much weaker," Jolgeir said.

"Yes, and something in the flavor seems…not bad, merely different," Finnulfur added.

"You poured it from a bottle," Loki offered.

Jolgeir and Finnulfur nodded.

Loki wasn't surprised at the lack of specificity of their answers. Finnulfur wasn't much of a drinker; Jolgeir was, but Loki suspected he drank whatever flowed most freely at his favorite tavern, and lacked a truly discerning taste. He briefly fantasized about taking a taste himself and explaining to their host in excruciating detail how little his swill had in common with Asgardian mead, but that truly was a fantasy; Loki wouldn't be able to do any better than Jolgeir or Finnulfur. The use of a bottle was indeed the most immediate difference though, and Finnulfur was explaining to Tony that mead on Asgard was never stored in a glass bottle.

Loki's thoughts snapped back to the conversation when Jolgeir exclaimed, "I wish I'd thought of this before! We should have brought mead from Asgard for you to try. That would be much simpler."

"I like the way you think, Jolgeir," Tony said with a grin.

"Thankfully you didn't think of it before. How are we to hear Tony's presentation if he's collapsed on the floor, insensible?" Loki asked.

"I have a high tolerance. I'm pretty sure I could handle a glass. Or a tankard. I mean, what, is it 200 proof?"

"We'll prove it to you when we send you some," Jolgeir said. "I know His Majesty won't object to the idea."

"He's referring to the percentage of alcohol," Loki explained. "200 proof would mean 100% alcohol."

"I've never heard of anything like that," Jolgeir said. "Do we have this 'proof'?"

"We do not," Finnulfur put in. "But the strength is regulated, and we have tests for strength and sugar content and additions to ensure compliance. Achieving the strength necessary for mead isn't easy, and occasionally an unscrupulous producer will fall short and try to disguise the insufficiency with added flavorings. I've seen many such cases."

"Cases heard by the First Magistrate?" Jolgeir asked, clearly expecting a no.

Finnulfur laughed. "Of those, only one – when weak mead reached the King's Table."

It took a moment to find the memory, but it was there. Loki had noticed a few odd expressions – Thor had wrinkled his nose and sniffed his tankard – and by the time Odin was reaching for his tankard and half the table was staring in anticipation, Loki was certain of what had happened. "I believe the scandal forced that supplier out of business even before he met Finnulfur."

"The scandal on its own might have done it, but the decision to revoke his license for bulk sale ensured it," Finnulfur said.

"Not good business practice, watering down the king's drinks," Tony said.

"It isn't good business practice to provide anyone with a weak drink, but it's much less likely to be caught in a tavern after everyone's already been drinking," Jolgeir said.

The others laughed; Loki – the only one who had actually been there, as well as the only one who hadn't been drinking mead – thought back on that night. He remembered feeling left out of a shared experience, but one that he knew he'd chosen to be left out of. He remembered Thor declaring, "Even Loki can tolerate this batch!" He remembered plotting all the ways in which he could retaliate, and doing nothing because they sat at the King's Table. The next day, though, when Thor went to put his favorite boots on, he found that his feet pushed the soles right off. Loki also remembered Thor shouting, "Where is Loki?! Where is he?!" as he sought him out, and then once he let Thor find him, feigning his innocence so well that Thor was convinced Loki had nothing to do with it. It helped that Thor had completely forgotten about the offense from the night before, or had perhaps never even recognized it as an offense in the first place. Of course, Thor's ignorance of what he was being repaid for made the silly little bit of mischief with his boots feel even more meaningless.

Conversation meanwhile had moved on, and Tony had apparently asked Finnulfur why Thor had sent him; Finnulfur was speaking of his role as an advisor to the king in matters of law, policy, and principle. Loki suspected it had more to do with him being old. And a reputation for wisdom and fairness, Loki grudgingly admitted to himself.

"Hey, if the mead isn't doing it for you, can I get you something else?"

"I would take some water, if you have it," Finnulfur said.

"Sure," Tony said, running through the various versions of water he had; Jolgeir turned down the offer and took another drink of the mead. Loki suspected he was just being polite. Tony had, of course ignored Loki.

Finnulfur glanced behind him to Loki, and to Loki's empty hands.

This is going to be interesting, Loki thought.

"Lord Tony," Finnulfur began, pointedly setting down the glass of chilled water Tony had brought him, "I recognize that Prince Loki's presence here is not entirely welcome, given prior events. However, he is here, and he is our prince, and as such, it's uncomfortable for us to be offered courtesies that he is not."

Tony looked to Jolgeir, who nodded. "Is that a fancy way of saying you want me to offer Loki a drink?" he asked, turning back to Finnulfur.

"It is," Finnulfur agreed.

"Okay. Why not? Not the first time. Loki?"

"Yes, Tony?"

"What's your poison?" Tony asked, arching an eyebrow. "I've got plenty of Johnnie Walker Blue Label in stock. Don't worry, no actual poison."

"As enjoyable as that sounds, I'll have a Coke."

"You'll have a Coke."

"Yes. Or a 7 Up, if you don't have Coke."

"Three months on Earth. Got it. Yeah, I've got Coke. Ice?"

"No, thank you."

"What is Coke?" Finnulfur asked.

"You should try it," Loki suggested.

A couple of minutes later, Tony was returning from his bar, where from the refrigerator he'd taken two cans and filled three glasses. A few seconds after that, Loki was chuckling as Finnulfur coughed into his glass.

"Take it slowly," Loki advised, remembering his first experience with the strong carbonation in Midgardian sodas, which had led him to suggest Finnulfur try the drink in the first place. Jolgeir took the new glass between head and shoulder and took a more careful taste. Loki sipped at his own once Tony handed over the glass; drinking it from a glass rather than a bottle was strange, and for some reason a little less appealing. Loki admitted to himself that it might have more to do it with the location than either the container or the contained.

Tony's phone buzzed. "Excellent. Everybody's almost here, give it another fifteen minutes or so. Sorry about the delay. Most of these guys I had to fly up here just for this. You're going to be really excited about what you see today. We've come a long way since the days of hooks and peg-legs, and the advances underway right now are mind-blowing. The prosthetics come close to looking like flesh-and-blood limbs, but it's not just appearance, it's function. We can share what's available in production now, and I'm pretty sure our researchers will be willing to share their work, with the understanding that you do us a solid in return and share any improvements or further advances you make with it once you have it."

"Ah, Tony, I don't think we're ready to make any agreements, or to take your prosthetics back to Asgard," Jolgeir said.

"It doesn't have to be anything formal, just a handshake, metaphorically speaking."

"Perhaps Krusa and Geirmund did not fully explain," Finnulfur said. "We haven't decided to adopt Midgardian ideas about…prosthetics. We're simply here to listen and learn, and then relay what we've learned back to Asgard."

"Uh-huh. Okay. Maybe we have a misunderstanding going on here. I'm talking about prosthetic legs that let people who've lost legs walk again, even run again. And prosthetic arms that let people pick stuff up again, and manipulate objects with a pretty fine level of control."

"We do understand that, Tony. But we think about battle injuries differently on Asgard. For injuries such as mine…there was a sacrifice. An honorable sacrifice. They say I was standing right next to the area where the explosion was centered. I don't remember it, so I don't know, but they think I may have spotted something amiss, right before the explosion. Perhaps a sign of its triggering. I cannot simply…erase that, or pretend it didn't happen. I wouldn't want to. And using false arms…it would seem…as though I regretted the sacrifice, I suppose you could say."

Loki listened with growing unease; these were very personal feelings for Jolgeir, and he clearly didn't want to discuss them, but was doing so anyway out of what Loki assumed was a sense of obligation, connected to diplomacy. A Chief Palace Einherjar had to be well versed in all manner of diplomacy and protocol, even though formally neither was his job.

"As incredible as the breakthroughs in prosthesis technology are, it's still not the same as having your own arms. I'm sure any amputee will tell you that. But even if it was, it doesn't change what you did, or anyone else who lost a limb. It doesn't change what you did for your country. Okay, your realm. It just makes your life a whole lot easier."

Loki interrupted, cutting off both Jolgeir and Finnulfur. "Why don't we let your guests enjoy their drinks, while you and I go reminisce about old times?"

Tony narrowed his eyes, then glanced toward the men on the sofa, hesitating, but in the end he walked around the sofa and led Loki further away from the entrance to this floor, to a wall of solid glass and through the tightly-sealed glass door at its center. They stood inside a relatively small space, filled with wooden cabinetry, with stacked drawers on one wall and display shelving with open boxes containing small cylinder-shaped objects on the other two walls. The air here felt different, more humid, and a heavy scent draped the area, partly from all the wood, but also something a little spicy and unfamiliar. For a moment, Loki forgot to mask his curiosity, and Tony noticed.

"It's a humidor. I host the occasional sip-and-smoke here. You have cigars on Asgard?"

"No," Loki answered. He'd heard the word at the South Pole, but hadn't known what it was, and hadn't cared enough to ask Jane or search the internet.

"I'd offer to let you try one, but I'm finding it hard to let go of the fact that you said I was going to be kneeling to you and then you threw me out a window, all just one floor up from here, and it's affecting my hosting duties. So what did you want to chat about? You have a rational explanation for what that was all about?"

"Mostly I wanted to stop your careless words before Jolgeir took true offense at them."

"What's offensive about wanting someone to have a better life? It's not like I was, oh, I don't know, offering to relieve him of the burden of freedom."

"Freedom is a burden, but no longer one I'm interested in bearing for anyone but myself. You were seeking to relieve him of his beliefs. Of his honor."

"No. I'm seeking to relieve him of some of the challenges of being a double amputee. You don't believe in medical treatment? If somebody gets injured on the battlefield you just…let him bleed to death?"

"Of course not. That's hardly the same thing. Damage can be healed. But a missing limb cannot."

"Okay, look, I get war injuries. I mean, I got a war injury, in a manner of speaking. And sacrifice, I get that, too. Patriotism, the honor of serving your country, or your planet, sure. But how does having a prosthetic limb lessen the honor? That I don't get."

"Finally you've asked a real question. Tell me this. Does your realm also create prosthetic eyes?"

"Uh…yeah, sure. Glass eyes. They can't see, but researchers are working on that, and looking at ways to give sight to non-seeing eyes. They're making progress."

Loki nodded. Glass eyes. Strange, he thought, and wondered fleetingly if the prosthetic limbs were also made of glass; it didn't seem very practical. "Why then does your Director Fury not use one? Why instead wear that black patch and a strap encircling his head?"

"I guess you'd have to ask him…which in your case I wouldn't actually recommend." He paused then, and Loki could tell Tony was considering his question. "If I had to take a wild guess, though, I'd say it's because it makes him look badass."

"How interesting."

Tony took a couple of steps away, scanned his shelves, and picked up one of what had to be the cigars, sliding it under his nose. He returned it to its box and faced Loki again. "Are you saying Jolgeir would prefer not to have prosthetics because he thinks not having arms makes him look badass?"

"I'm certain that if you asked him five thousand times why he doesn't immediately leap at the idea, none of his responses would be 'because I think it makes me look badass.' I didn't say it was exactly the same concept. I merely thought the example might give you something to think on. And perhaps encourage you to show a little more understanding instead of denigrating traditions and beliefs that you know nothing of, simply because they differ from yours. Present your information. Allow them to review it and form their own opinions, free from your judgement and condescension."

Tony stood there, brown eyes fixed on his, showing no reaction. Loki met his gaze, and waited.

"Okay."

"Okay?" Loki echoed in surprise. No supposedly witty reply? No insult now that we're outside the others' hearing?

"I said okay. I wasn't going to comment on the irony of who just lectured me on judgement and condescension, but I can."

"I don't see the relevance."

"No? Well, never mind, then. Anything else I need to know?"

Loki laughed. "Oh, where to begin! In the interest of time, I think that will suffice for now."

"Well all right then."

With that Tony headed for the glass door, and Loki followed him out and back to where Jolgeir and Finnulfur waited…along with a new arrival. It was, he assumed, one of the guests who had lost a limb, though as far as Loki could tell all four were natural. The clean-shaven man with short blond hair was speaking with the Aesir, each of them now standing. He turned Loki's way, then, and the immediate recognition was mutual. Loki stopped where he was, not quite back to where he'd stood behind Jolgeir and Finnulfur, hands hovering over daggers concealed in elongated pockets. The other man reflected neither Loki's surprise nor his unease; Tony had clearly informed him he was here.

"You've omitted a few details about your guests, Tony," Loki said in a low voice, gaze not wavering from Captain America.

"Right back atcha, Loki. Steve, glad you could make it. You've introduced yourselves, I take it?"

"We have. Thanks for including me. Loki…I have to admit, I didn't think I'd ever see you again. Not like this, anyway."

Loki stared a moment longer. He hadn't recognized the man before he'd turned; he'd only seen him out of his battle attire once, briefly. Today he wore jeans, a plain white T-shirt, and a brown leather jacket – no shield, and no visible weapons. He didn't look like he'd come here for a fight, but Loki knew well not to trust appearances. Ignoring the new arrival now, he turned to Tony. "Who else are you expecting? Giant green beasts? Archers with personal grudges? Spiders with red hair and false tears? I will not stand for this."

"Never said you had to stand. You're welcome to sit. And just for the record? We all have personal grudges. But no, it's not a full reunion. Just Steve. You know his story, right?" Tony turned his attention to the Aesir. "You wouldn't know it from his boyish good looks, but he's actually the seniorest of senior citizens on Earth. He was fighting in a war and wound up frozen for seventy years or so and lived to tell the tale."

"Frost Giants?" Jolgeir asked. "How did they get here?"

"What giants?" Tony asked as Loki clenched his jaw.

"Frost Giants," Jolgeir repeated. "From the realm called Jotunheim. They froze you? But they shouldn't have been able to reach Midgard without the Ice Casket," he said with a quick glance to Loki.

"There's a lot out there we still don't know about, isn't there?" Steve said. "But no, it wasn't Frost Giants. It was…it's a long story. I had to ditch a plane, and it crashed into icy water."

Loki shifted irritably while Finnulfur and Jolgeir responded. The number of enemies brought into these chambers was growing. And one Frost Giant had managed to make it to Midgard just fine without the Ice Casket.

"Cap here's been around long enough to have a longer view of prosthetics than just about anybody else alive today. So you see, Prince Not-So-Charming, you've got something in common. You're both here to bring 'fresh perspectives.' And while we're at it? I don't think you have any business standing in my building or frankly anywhere else in Manhattan and announcing what you will or won't stand for. But pardon my manners, like I said, feel free to sit or stand. I'll even get you some more Coke if you want it. No 7 Up, sorry."

"This one is fine, thank you," Loki said icily, raising his glass. The presence of Jolgeir and Finnulfur here was a stifling restraint; he wished the other guests, the ones he'd assumed Tony Stark was speaking of earlier, would arrive so they could get on with it and get it over with.

"You drink Coke now?" the captain asked. "Where've you been hiding out?"

"Living, Captain Rogers. Not hiding. And you do not need to know."

"And he's back in his home-sweet-home Asgard now anyway," Tony added. "Except for this unannounced little visit."

"Understood. Speaking of Asgard, Tony said your war has ended?" Steve Rogers asked, looking first to Loki, then to Finnulfur and Jolgeir.

Loki breathed a quiet exhale of relief as the subject shifted away from him again and the others spoke in generalities about the war and the negotiations that would soon follow. The captain looked his way from time to time – Loki recognized a warrior taking his measure when he saw one – but unlike Tony, he spoke no boasts or threats. Tony Stark he'd thrown out a window and tried to win to his side with the scepter; Steve Rogers he'd born the scepter down on while demanding he kneel. Both, he was certain, were only being civil toward him because of the shackles the others' presence placed on them the same as on Loki himself, and Steve Rogers was simply more capable of behaving courteously.

"Oh, yes, of course," Finnulfur said, the surprise in his voice catching Loki's ear. The captain had asked something about restoring friendly relations among the realms. "It was Vanaheim's King Gullveig who led the alliance against us, but Vanaheim has been our closest friend and ally throughout most of our history. I've no doubt there'll be some tension, some misgivings, in the beginning, but I've also no doubt that our two peoples will overcome that and unite again. We fought a terrible war against Vanaheim when I was a young man; it was an aberration then as now. And the fact that Gullveig and the others were manipulated by an outside influence, rather than acting on their own initiative, will speed the restoration of good relations."

Loki's thoughts drifted again. He remembered reading Thor's unexplained "I am Asgard and Loki is Vanaheim," from the journal, and wondered if that was what he meant, that he and Thor were closest friends and allies throughout much of their history. It still grated that Thor made himself Asgard and Loki Not-Asgard.

"They're on their way up," Tony said, and Loki saw him putting his phone back in his pocket.

Jolgeir Loki thought looked nervous; he was obviously comfortable with Tony, but perhaps he'd never met any other Midgardians. Finnulfur as usual looked alert but at ease despite the slight air of formality about him that never completely went away. Loki was merely curious, and now that the surprise of Steve Rogers's arrival had subsided, he had relaxed, perhaps even more so than when it was just Tony Stark. The soldier had a cooler head, and did not go out of his way to agitate.

Four men emerged from the elevator, and as they approached and Tony began the introductions, he saw that two of the men each had a false arm that looked quite real, while the other two's arms both looked no different from flesh and blood. One of these was Dr. Gerald Zeb – Loki wasn't sure if the title was in the sense applied to Jane or to Nora – and the other three, Kelvin, Eddie, and Amos, had served in the local military, two in the Army and one in the Marines. Loki was more familiar with the Navy, from Gary's stories.

"Pleased to meet you," Loki said after Tony introduced him as Lucas. He shook each man's hand – extending his left to take Kelvin's left, following the example of the others; the new arrivals grasped Jolgeir's shoulder instead. Loki, once again Lucas, thought he could probably pass for Midgardian in his current attire, but for his boots, which he hadn't altered through magic and which were more elaborately adorned with leather gaiters and bits of metal armor for greater protection – and for concealing four daggers. But he wasn't trying to pretend he was Midgardian, and Tony hadn't intended for him to do so, he assumed. "Loki" was a known name now, though, since Gullveig had placed a bounty on him; Tony was probably just trying to avoid adding unnecessary awkwardness to this meeting.

Or worse, he thought, eyeing the four, and in particular the two with the prosthetic arms, Kelvin and Eddie. He hoped that no one here had lost a limb because of his attack on New York. A scant few months ago, he wouldn't have cared. One did not concern oneself with the difficulties of one ant out of a colony of millions. Loki realized to his surprise that despite never having met these men before, and not knowing anything about them other than their names, he already knew them to be deserving of the same basic regard as those he'd gotten to know over months at the South Pole. Everything Jane had accused him of…most of what Jane had accused him of, was correct. He'd attacked these people without real cause, opened the way to an army he'd never had any real control of, and when SHIELD's little band of Avengers fought back more effectively than expected, he'd called in even more attackers, who rained down even more destruction.

The others continued speaking, beyond the initial introductions, but not about injuries or battles; that would surely come, but for now Loki would have to wait. The newly arrived guests seemed excited to meet "aliens" for the first time – Tony explained that they'd had to sign secrecy agreements for that – but the three from the military were at least as much if not more in awe of Captain America.

"I wrote an essay on you when I was in the seventh grade," Amos, the more reserved of the three soldiers told Steve Rogers. "We were supposed to write about somebody we thought of as a hero."

Loki wished that this day had the same kind of fast forward button on it as the remote for the TV at the South Pole.

Steve, as the captain had insisted everyone call him, gave a good-natured laugh. "What grade did you get?"

"B-plus," Amos answered. "It sticks in my memory because it was better than I usually did – I hated sitting still long enough to write essays. It's such an honor to meet you. Your story is a big part of why I joined up."

"It's an honor to meet you, too, Amos. Each of you. And to know that there are still men and women who seek to serve their country, something greater than themselves. Thank you for your service."

When the adoration of the soldier who'd accomplished his own form of time travel ended, the doctor suggested the other three briefly share the story of their injuries. Loki observed with no more than polite interest in his reactions, but was in fact fascinated, which he hadn't anticipated. He had experienced battle and injury, and had experienced life on Midgard among her people. But this was entirely new. He may have forgotten for a while, or simply been too preoccupied, but Loki liked learning new things.

Kelvin had fought in Afghanistan; Loki had heard it mentioned in passing, but it had not been on his list of key targets, and he'd never met anyone from there – he knew nothing of it. Kelvin had lost his right arm in a vehicle struck by an IED. Although Tony seemed to never notice his own use of impenetrable terminology and references, he helpfully cut in to explain in an unusually subdued tone that this was an "improvised explosive device," usually not very sophisticated, often hidden among rocks along the road and automatically or remotely triggered to explode when a vehicle passed by.

"Your enemy never even faces you?" Jolgeir asked.

"They try to avoid it. Taliban can't hit the side of a barn with a rifle."

Eddie had lost his left arm in a helicopter crash in Iraq, another place Loki was unfamiliar with. Tony had to explain what a helicopter was. Loki, of course, knew. Although he hadn't known the name for it at the time, he had shot one of them out of the sky not long after arriving on Midgard.

Amos had stepped on a landmine – Tony explained what it was – in Afghanistan while accompanying an engineering team surveying the area where a village's well had been destroyed two months earlier; there hadn't been any fighting in the area since. "I was lucky," he said. "The bomb techs, EOD guys, explosive ordinance, they said it malfunctioned, I didn't get the full blast. Could've killed me, but it just got half a leg," Amos said with a grin. And that explained why Amos's arms looked entirely natural.

"So what was your action?" Kelvin asked Jolgeir.

"I think you could call it an IED. Triggered and powered by magic."

"Hold up, magic? Real-deal magic?" Kelvin said.

Jolgeir nodded; Loki heard a few words that Gary usually followed with "pardon my French."

"Can you imagine if the Taliban had real-deal magic?" Kelvin said to shaking heads and more swearing.

"It isn't normal on our realm to fight with magic. With that kind of magic," Jolgeir quickly clarified – thoughtful of him, Loki supposed, though he would have still been basically correct had he not amended his response. He went on to add some context to what had happened, and the others seemed duly impressed. They had all been in combat, but the Midgardians had never been in a king's throne room.

Everyone sat – except for Loki, who remained standing behind Jolgeir and Finnulfur until Tony shot him a look and pointed to a chair left empty next to Finnulfur which Loki then occupied – and Jarvis projected a three-dimensional presentation on the historical development of prosthesis up to a few years ago, where Tony indicated that Dr. Zeb would pick up.

"But first," Tony said, "Just so everybody's aware, Asgard's an advanced society. It's not that they couldn't have developed prosthetics themselves. The fact that they haven't is more of a cultural preference. They're here to learn, and we're not here to convince them to follow our path."

"No problem," Eddie said, echoing the sentiments the others were expressing much more readily than Loki had expected, given Tony's initial reactions. "There are plenty of people in this society that decide not to get prosthesis, for a lot of different reasons. Everybody's got to make his own decision."

Loki looked around with surprise as the other amputees agreed, and briefly met Tony's eyes, catching the same surprise there before Tony quickly turned away and asked Dr. Zeb to begin.

Finally, Loki settled into his chair, finding it quite comfortable, and simply listened. Tony Stark's company, it turned out, had for years been partnering with DARPA, the Defense Advanced Research Projects Agency, on prosthetics development, which Tony had not mentioned; Loki noted that Steve Rogers looked surprised. Prosthesis itself was far more complex than he expected. False limbs – prosthetic limbs – were not just one thing. The varieties seemed endless, from the materials they were made of to the functionality they provided and how they achieved that functionality. When Dr. Zeb began to speak of the integration of the body's nervous system, and rerouting and essentially reprogramming tiny portions of nerves, Loki realized that they had not brought everyone they needed.

"Excuse me," he said, interrupting the presentation. They had been encouraged to interrupt and ask questions, but Tony still looked at him with annoyance. "I believe that our head doctor should be here as well. Do you mind if I send for her?"

"Eir?"

"Yes," Loki said with surprise. Tony must have met her during his short visit to Asgard.

"Okay. Jarvis, help Lucas here upstairs to the local landing pad and back."

Loki excused himself and headed for the elevator, which took him straight up to the floor he'd arrived on without the need for pressing any of its buttons. "Heimdall," he said once the elevator was in motion, "I'm certain you've already been watching, but do ask Eir to join us here right away if she's able, and send me a message if she isn't. Inside. You aren't the only one who's watching. No need to entertain the watchers."

It didn't take long, which Loki was glad of; he felt uncomfortable standing here alone with the memories of his prior visits, Tony one floor down, and the ever-watchful eyes of both Heimdall and Jarvis. Eir could have arrived in the midst of the meeting but it would have been distracting for the mortals who hadn't seen such a thing before, and Loki didn't feel he was missing anything important by waiting here, since he needed impressions and ideas, not detailed expertise.

"Welcome, Eir."

"Thank you. The circumstances are much improved over my last visit."

"I suppose so," Loki said with a nod. "The weather is much improved as well. Shall we join the others?"

Eir followed Loki's line of sight outdoors – where even though the sun had set, the city provided enough light to see that the buildings here were not covered in frost – then accompanied him back down to the meeting while Loki filled her in on the very basics of what she had missed.

Quick introductions were exchanged, and the discussion fundamentally shifted. Gerald Zeb had assured them that most Midgardians also didn't know terms such as "myoelectronic" – the soldiers quickly and enthusiastically agreed – and he took care to explain them, but the number of unfamiliar terms and unfamiliar concepts made his explanation difficult to follow at times. Eir didn't know most of the strange terms, either, but was much quicker to match them to Asgardian equivalents, having a much better grasp of the underlying concepts than the rest of them in the first place. Within ten minutes, Eir was speaking Dr. Zeb's language; Loki gave a silent laugh at the puzzled expression Jolgeir turned to him with.

At the end of the technical talk, after noting that he had provided Tony with electronic copies of a stack of research papers on various avenues of advancement in prosthesis, Dr. Zeb explained that transplantation of donor arms was another option. Loki felt sick at the thought, once he understood what the researcher was saying, and hoped that the Aesir were doing better at hiding their reactions than he was. His vision grew dim and a sense of pressure enveloped him.

"You don't do transplants, either? It's worth considering. I've read in the popular literature about amputees gaining a lot of improved quality of life with transplanted arms," Dr. Zeb said.

"Our people are less easily harmed than yours," Eir noted, her tone as calm and undisturbed as ever. Loki focused on it and began to feel well again. "We have I suspect less need for medical transplants than you, and fewer donors available, too, outside a time of war. It's very rarely done, and even then only for internal organs."

The sense of pressure and dimming vision returned; Loki wished Eir hadn't brought up internal organs. He wasn't squeamish about them – usually – but then he also wasn't used to talk of taking them out of one person and putting them into another. He hadn't known it was done at all on Asgard.

Such talk, thankfully, did not continue; discussion turned instead to more practical matters. Kelvin and Eddie were part of Dr. Zeb's study, and talked about their experiences feeling sensation through the arms they were testing in the lab.

"Does it feel like normal touch?" Jolgeir asked.

"Yeah, sometimes," Kelvin said. "Light pressure."

"Or tingling. Like that feeling when your arm's gone to sleep and it starts waking up again?" Eddie said.

Jolgeir nodded. "Do either of you have a wife?" he asked after a quiet moment.

"Yeah," Eddie said, while Kelvin answered, "I'm engaged."

"Betrothed," Loki explained.

"Can you put your arm around your wife, and you betrothed? Your engaged?"

Both men responded affirmatively, and Eddie continued. "It's not the same, though. Not with the prosthetic," he said, tapping his left arm.

"l have a wife and daughter," Jolgeir began, then paused to swallow. "Holding them is what I miss the most."

"Yeah. I can't wait to try out one of these new arms in normal life. Plucking grapes and cherries off a stem is great, but the number one thing I want to be able to do with my right hand is hold my fiancée's hand and feel it," Kelvin said.

"I think it's what we all miss the most, even those of us who've only lost one arm. We do a lot more with our hands and arms besides grab stuff."

"That's true," Dr. Zeb responded when no one else spoke. "Those of us on this project, we always bear in mind the social functions of..."

The words washed over him without reaching him as the pressure and dimming vision returned, and this time Loki glanced furtively in Eir's direction, wondering if she'd been wrong and he really did have a concussion. They were rare, but rare didn't mean impossible.

When he blinked and saw what was going on before him, he started, and Tony, Eir, and Finnulfur, the three closest to him, glanced his way. He frowned and ignored them. Amos had unzipped his pants leg, leaving his right leg in short pants, and was removing the false leg that was now visible. It was unsettling, in part because he was unexpectedly watching a man remove his leg, but more because he had obviously been unaware of what was going on around him, and for more than a mere few seconds.

"There's quite a process to it, isn't there?" Jolgeir said, watching with interest.

"Oh yeah. Even more when I'm putting it on. This is rough on the body, and especially the stump. The skin can get really irritated if you don't take good care of it."

Amos talked about how he put on and removed his prosthetic leg, and then, to Loki's surprise, he opened up the case he'd been carrying when he arrived and pulled out another leg. This one, however, didn't look like a flesh and blood leg. Beyond the socket that held the stump, it was a long blade of metal, curved at the end where a foot would be.

"You can truly run on that?" Jolgeir asked.

A special kind of false leg for running, then, Loki gathered, something he'd apparently missed earlier.

Jolgeir watched with rapt attention. "Can you wear boots with it?" he asked once Amos had it fastened on.

"Nah, it's not really meant for that. Just for running. See all the flex it has?"

Loki didn't. The symptoms from before returned and grew stronger, white pinpricks appearing in a field of total darkness. The pressure felt like a vice around his entire body and he realized what this was, or rather remembered. These weren't concussion symptoms. With great effort, he pushed back against the pull. "Your bathroom?" he asked, interrupting Amos, eyes finding Tony only after he'd spoken.

Tony fixed Loki with a stare, and an expression that Loki knew was an accusation of rudeness. Loki clenched his fist and imagined slamming it into Tony Stark's head until it burst, but kept his expression neutral. "Back there," Tony said, after deliberately letting the moment linger long enough to make his point, Loki was certain. "Across from the humidor."

Loki nodded curtly and excused himself – Jolgeir stood, out of habit, probably – and forced himself to maintain a normal, leisurely pace. Inside the bathroom, he closed the door slowly, carefully, and locked it. He leaned over the long gray counter, gripping its edge. "Heimdall," he said quietly, voice strained. Return me to Asgard, he thought. "Watch me," he said. And stopped resisting.

/


For "Glitter Queen," "35 chapters" was a joke and referred to actual "Chapter 35," ha. I don't know how many chapters are left.

Coupla comments: I researched a lot for this chapter. How Jolgeir drinks is how a woman I watched on YouTube did it. And although I didn't bore you (hopefully, ha) with tons of details on prosthesis development, I did read a lot about it so that I could at least couch the glimpses of it in reality. I read about the technological developments, and read through posts on a couple of discussion forums for people who've had amputations. There is a lot of jargon in that world, including for type of amputation, which I left out even though probably it would be used if this were real life, but I didn't want to get too bogged down in using the jargon and defining it and trying to make readers remember it. Hopefully it worked out. Secondly, it's 2017, but in this story it's...I guess 2012 or 2013. Prosthesis has developed a lot since even then, and I guess you don't hear as much about Iraq and Afghanistan now as then. I tried as much as possible to keep things appropriate to the time of events in the story.

Ch. 177 previews: Remember that promise Loki made not to damage Tony's property? Welllllll... Beyond that I guess it gets spoilery. Don't go making assumptions. :-) The excerpt below is maybe *slightly* spoilery, FYI.

Excerpt:

"Do you need help remembering again? You entered into a bargain freely. With enthusiasm. Pathetic worm."

"Your actions" – Loki paused to swallow more blood, and noted the unnatural slurring of his words – "are those of one who doesn't realize he still has a bargain."