A week after Jak left Bucharest:
Even with full control of her magic, Jak was surprised at how easy it was to break into the FBI's evidence storage facility. It made her wonder if they really ought to be the ones guarding all of the things that they were guarding. Part of her felt bad for them, knowing that they had not been the original keepers of many of the items.
When SHIELD had fallen to pieces, evidence was dispersed amongst different federal agencies that had the most claim to various cases that were previously under SHIELD's jurisdiction. The poor FBI probably didn't know what to do with the shipping container full of historical and magical objects that had once belonged to Jak and her mother, but since they'd gotten custody of Jak, they got saddled with her box of stuff. Really, it would be in everyone's best interest if she lightened the burden for them.
It didn't take her long, in her federal disguise, to get into the huge evidence warehouse and find the shipping container she was looking for. Her mother had given it a distinct magical aura so that they could always locate it, regardless of where they hid it. The container was old. They'd purchased it in the sixties and filled it with various odds and ends that moved with them across the globe over the centuries. Of course, they hadn't been able to keep everything, but once they got the shipping container, it was much easier to transfer their treasured belongings and reminders of the days gone by.
Before she'd begun her parole, back when her mother was still alive, Jak had loved opening the container and seeing old familiar things. Furniture from old homes. Clothing that hadn't been in fashion for decades. Magical artifacts that no one had ever explained to her. It was, she supposed, like going up into an attic to see hints of the lives of people long dead, but instead it was hints of her own past.
The door creaked when she opened it, but she had a conjured badge and an official looking inventory clipboard, so she wasn't worried about being questioned.
"Oh hell, I forgot about you!"
She jumped back in surprise when the first thing she saw was a huge, taxidermied bear. Evidently, her father had killed it as a wedding gift for her mother. No matter how impractical it was or how much damage it took, the bear came with them. Jak was tempted to light it on fire, but she didn't want the FBI to know she'd been tampering with the box beyond what appeared to be a routine inventory.
Pushing past the bear, she sifted through boxes and furniture until she came to the old wooden crate she'd been looking for. Her mother had left the box alone for ages and it had gathered dust. The lid was off, since the feds had gone through and photographed all the contents, but everything was just as dusty as it had been the last time Jak looked.
She dug through some of the truly ancient items her family had owned. There was a dagger that had belonged to Ivan the Terrible. A ring her father had stolen from Pope Boniface I. A sketch done by Leonardo di Vinci. This was the box of the few remaining things her father kept from before she'd been born. Her mother always claimed that there weren't many because he'd been so enamored with Jak upon her birth that he could only look to the future and forgot the past. Jak's theory was that he had a hidden stash of items somewhere that he had never told his family about, but that didn't matter.
At the very bottom of the crate she found what she was actually looking for.
"Hello, hello." She shone a flashlight on the small, wooden box she had unearthed.
It was crafted in Egypt, long, long ago. Jak always assumed that her father had acquired it from an antiques dealer or a friend. Her memory of it was fuzzy and for a time, she convinced herself that he had gotten ahold of it in the Victorian or Edwardian era, when Egyptology was all the rage. But if she really gave it some thought, the little box had been with them as long as she could remember.
Until she realized that her father was a phoenix, she had always thought that the pink haired man on the front of the box, with his flaming wings spread wide, was a depiction of some god. Now, however, she knew the truth: it was an image of her father. He had been alive far longer than she had ever thought. He was not Egyptian himself, but he had, evidently, spent some time in Egypt a long time ago.
Jak wanted to know just how long and she wanted to see what else she could learn about the box. So, she tucked it in the bag she'd brought with her, locked up the shipping container, and headed on her way.
.
.
"Hey, hi, are you Seraphina? Sorry! Ms. Falkner? Ms. uh… Seraphina Falkner?"
Jak looked away from the museum case she'd been admiring. It held a display about historic fashion of the French court and she recognized a pair of her father's shoes sitting on a velvet cushion. She'd rarely been allowed in France during that time, otherwise she wondered if they might have had any of her possessions too.
Turning from the shoes, she looked at the man who spoke to her. He smiled nervously and offered a hand to shake, but then put the hand in his pocket after the long silence. When she looked him in his soft brown eyes, his whole face turned a ruddy color and he stuttered out something that she couldn't quite understand.
He was not, according to his online message, an actual Egyptologist or even an archeologist. But, when Jak had posted a picture of her father's box on an online forum that dealt with ancient Egyptian artifacts that were not in museums - a site dedicated toward getting the antiquities to where they rightfully belonged - he had been the first to reply with interest. Jak didn't care that he was not accredited in the field, but she did care that he was discrete. She had told him that there were relatives of hers who wanted to sell the box, but she wanted to learn more about it. A good as cover as any for stolen FBI evidence. It made him promise to keep things quiet anyway.
"Hello," she smiled at the awkward man, "Yes, I'm Seraphina Falkner."
"I have to say, I'm quite flummoxed that you would travel all the way over the pond just to talk about the piece!" the man shook his head. "Must be very important to you, eh?"
"I thought it would be easier for you to look at it in person than over a picture or video. And I like to travel. I recently quit my job and I'm enjoying my new found freedom."
"Good for you! That's great. I mean, that is really lovely. And I'm happy to meet you, of course," he beamed and then slapped his forehead, "And here I am standing around like a complete clot! Sorry. I'm Stephen. Stephen Grant."
"I know," Jak giggled, holding up the bag with the box in it, "It was how you signed your emails, remember?"
"Right! Right!"
"Now, would you care to take a look at this thing?"
"Oi! Stevie, what are you up to over there?" A blonde woman called to them.
"Hi Donna," Stephen waved to the woman, "I was just actually going to take my break. Alright if I take my new friend to the break room with me?"
"Not really a romantic location for a date, now is it? No," Donna smacked her chewing gum, "Get out of here."
"Right," Stephen watched her go and then turned back to Jak. He made an apologetic face. "Ever examined ancient Egyptian artifacts in a corner cafe before?"
"Can't say I have," she smiled at him, "But I don't mind."
"Brill," he beamed, "Let's go have a looksee! I'm dying to get a peep at the hieroglyphs on this thing! And that image on the front? Never seen anything like it! He's got the wings of Isis, but he's clearly a man. And he's got that funny hair! Oh, sorry, bit like your hair, isn't it?"
"You know, that's what I was thinking too."
"Where did you even come by this?"
"Oh, it's been in the family."
Stephen rambled on as they made their way to a cafe and continued rambling and exclaiming in excitement as he looked over the box. Jak was glad to find that something of her father's could actually bring joy instead of hurt. At least, until Stephen flipped the box over and declared that it had a false bottom.
"Well, let's just see if we can jimmy it open," he poked and prodded at the box until he finally found a latch and pressed it. The bottom sprang open and revealed a crumbling, tiny scroll of papyrus, a Georgian era locket, a 1920s book of matches, and a family photo from the 1940s.
"This must be your… gran?" Stephen looked at the photo and then up at her. "Striking resemblance."
"Yes. Interesting," Jak muttered, taking the picture. She sat, smiling primly, between her parents. Her father looked sternly at the camera, cigar in hand, and her mother pressed possessive hands on Jak's shoulders. She didn't even remember having the portrait taken.
"These bits and bobs are older though," Stephen glanced at the matchbook, but didn't linger before using his fingernail to pry open the locket. There was a lock of pink hair inside. "Well. That's not what I was expecting from something this old. Did you add this? Did you add all of these and you're having a go at me?"
"No," she closed the locket, "Someone in my family must have put these in there. I didn't even know about the false bottom."
"Huh. And this papyrus… this is proper ancient. Like the box. I ought to put on gloves or something." But he merely wiped his hands on a napkin and unrolled the little scroll. "It's got glyphs."
"Can you read them?"
"Well…" he shrugged, "I probably could with enough time, but maybe you ought to consult a real-"
"How much time do you need?"
"Hmm…" he pondered the papyrus and then shook his head and exhaled, "A week? Two?"
"Keep it until Saturday. I'll be in town. And I'll take these," she scooped up the locket, matches, and photo, "With me. I'm trusting you, Stephen."
"Course," he nodded, "I will take good care of it. Maybe we'll uncover an ancient riddle to finding treasure, eh? 'Cept they don't usually do that type of thing, the ancient Egyptians, unless it's in the movies."
"Right. Well, here's the number of the hotel I'm staying at. Let me know if you think of anything," she stood and started to leave, but he stopped her and pointed to the art in the false bottom of the box. It was similar to the picture on the outside of the box that she assumed depicted her father, but this one was of a woman with magenta hair and fiery wings. The woman looked a bit like her, but that didn't concern her. She was more worried when she noticed the woman was reaching up and touching fingertips with a dark haired man surrounded by a beam of light. A dark haired man with green eyes and gold devil's horns.
A day after Loki left earth:
"With Thor off, serving his duty to the realms, we must find something for you to do," Odin told Loki as they sat uncomfortably in Odin's study. Loki was still handcuffed, which he found rather insulting, but at least the muzzle was gone.
"Am I not to rot away in a cell then?" Loki asked, scratching at the metal of the manacles with his fingernail and making an irritating sound.
"Until there is peace, I will not have either of my sons be lazy."
Thor had left almost as soon as they arrived back in Asgard. He'd stayed for one feast, spoken to his friends, spoken to Odin, and then flown off in search of Infinity Stones or trouble. Whichever he found first. Loki hated how worried he felt that his brother would find both at the same time.
"Then shall I work until my death?"
"You are the one who wanted a throne, did you not?" Odin challenged, "A king's job is not complete until he dies."
"And what job would you have me do, since you so adamantly refuse me a throne?"
"You have a way with trickery, Loki, you always have. It is my fault for not finding a constructive purpose for your talents," Odin stood and poured a goblet full of mead for both of them. He unlocked the manacles and then passed the goblet to Loki.
"And what purpose will you manufacture for me, Allfather?" Loki asked, taking a sip of the mead and then carefully checking his pockets. He had a way of hiding things on his person so that even a thorough frisking would not reveal his secrets and he was pleased to find many of his pockets left untouched.
Odin set his cup down and crossed his arms.
"You have let Jotuns into Asgard. You have slipped out of Asgard. All unseen, even to Heimdall. It seems to me that we have security breaches. You will work with the royal guard and engineers to fix these breaches. I give you free reign to attempt an escape from Asgard. You are my son, so I expect you to succeed. But I ask you to come back when you have and detail your escape so that we may prevent anyone else from mirroring your actions. If you do this, I will fully reinstate you as a prince of the Realm Eternal. Second in line for the throne."
It was a tempting offer. Loki would be foolish to turn it down. After all, there was nothing left for him on Midgard. Thor was gone, Jak had her own plans. He loved Asgard and he wanted it to prosper.
"Very well. I accept your proposal." He smiled and looked Odin in the eye for the first time since Frigga died. Just as he feared, there was no love in that gaze. No merciful understanding. It was the same coldness Loki had seen when he'd been hanging from the Rainbow Bridge and it was that coldness that cemented his choice.
"Good," Odin nodded, "I know you will make me proud."
"Oh," Loki took up both goblets and refilled them before passing one back to Odin, "I no longer believe it possible for me to do so."
"Thor told me of the motive behind what you did on Midgard," Odin took a long drink, "He told me of the mortal you fell in love with."
"We didn't fall in love," Loki sank lower in his seat and gently swirled the mead in his goblet, "We… dated. It was nothing. And, for the record, she was not mortal."
"Hmm. Yes, Heimdall told me of that. A phoenix in human form. Rare indeed," Odin took another sip.
"So, if you find my motive so righteous, why did you pull me away from Midgard?"
"It is as I said," Odin blinked and then looked at his goblet, "I wanted my sons home."
"To bring one glory and to taunt the other with the illusion of freedom? How sweet."
"You… don't… know… of what you… speak," Odin slurred and then dropped his goblet, "I see that your… hmm… escape has already begun. I expect you do not yet… ah… hate me enough to… kill me."
"No, certainly not," Loki picked up the dropped goblet and stood, watching Odin drift off to sleep under the effects of a sleeping draught. He kept it in his pocket along with several other potions and poisons for just such an occasion. One never knew when one would have a ripe opportunity to drug one's father.
"I hate to pick over every little thing you say," Loki told the sleeping king as he placed the manacles on his wrists, "But it isn't actually an escape attempt."
He glamoured his father to look like him and glamoured himself to look like Odin before calling for the guards. He told them that Loki had fallen asleep like the lazy good for nothing he was and ordered them to bring him back to the Bifrost.
"The Bifrost, Allfather?"
"Oh yes. I have decided that his banishment on Midgard shall continue."
"Yes, Allfather."
The guards carried Odin away and not long later, Loki joined them at the Bifrost. He nodded to Heimdall and took Odin's sleeping form from the guards before traveling to New York City. There, he changed his father back to his normal appearance, putting him in Midgardian clothing, and conjuring a wheelchair. He rolled him right to the front step of Shady Acres Care Home.
A few hours later, he was back in Asgard, charging Heimdall with treason and beginning his plans for a new Realm Eternal. He had no reason to go back to Midgard, but he sure as hell would not be living in Asgard under Odin's thumb. No, it was about time Loki got a taste of the throne he had long ago been promised.
The end... for now.
A note from the author: Wooo last chapter! Really more like a couple of epilogues. Or post-credit scenes if you will. ;) Anyway, thank you so much for reading this story. If you feel so inclined, please leave me a review telling me what you thought. I don't even mind hearing from you if you hated it. Tell me what you thought!
To anyone who didn't hate it, you might want to give my account a follow. I am planning a sequel, but I probably won't get around to doing any writing for it until the end of the summer. The title I have in mind for it right now (though it is subject to change) is Blood, Becoming, and Ballroom Dancing. Does this mean Loki will finally get to dance with Jak? I don't know! You'll have to check in and find out!
Special thanks to CrimsonWitch008 for your many reviews over the course of this story and for your review on the previous chapter! I truly appreciate your kind words and your reviews, which often times reminded me to update. The next fanfic I have in mind is the sequel to this story, but I have another OC/Loki story that's been simmering on the backburner for a while, so I might get to that eventually too. Outside of fanfiction, I am working on an original story (a cozy fantasy novel) that I hope to finish editing by the end of the summer and then begin looking into getting it published. So, I guess if anything ever happens with that I will PM my followers or something. idk
Thank you all again, I'll see you in the next story! :D