darling, you should see me in a crown

"I plead guilty."

A stunned silence throughout the whole room, and Stark just stands there proudly as if he told everyone that he had just invented the newest form of clean energy. (Which he had, actually, but that's not the point.)

"Mr. Stark," Judge Hart begins again but Stark ignores him yet again, "I plead guilty for planned homicide, executed homicide, incition of mass destruction, vandalism of the Statue of Liberty - that thing totally needed a new paint job; going to other countries without bothering about immigration, god-napping, imprisoning said god but I let him go anyway, more planning for mass destruction, and general deceiving of the whole public." He turns back to the judge, shit-eating grin on his face. "Have I missed anything?"

"Contempt of the court, Mr. Stark," the judge warns him, but Stark just scoffs. 

"What are you going to do? Send me out of my own trial?" He glances about the room. "Not that I mind - a lot of people here seems to want my ass."

Loki wants to scream at Osborn. He's being made a fool of by inviting everyone to this trial, can't he see, but the man is just too fixated on revenge, damn him. 

"He's making fun of us," Mystique says quietly. 

"Welcome to my life," Loki grumbles in reply. Stark is still talking, and Loki longs to just walk over and get him to shut up. 

"Mr. Stark!" Hart exclaims, his ears an interesting shade of red. Beetroot, maybe. 

"Do I stand in a corner and put a D-cap on my head now?" Stark asks without missing a beat.

"No," the judge says. "I want your defense lawyer to start talking."

Stark shrugs once. "Don't have one," he says nonchalantly. 

"He wouldn't happen to become an expert in law overnight, would he," Loki says out of the corner of his mouth. Mystique shrugs to that too. 

Hart frowns down at Stark, who offers him an easy smile. "Mr. Stark," he says, "surely you were informed of this trial."

"Well, yeah," Stark says. "But I was in captivity, you know, nice little room all to myself. No contacting 'outside forces' but I did try astral projection or whatever it's called. Didn't work. Might be because of my empty stomach."

"Your empty stomach," Hart repeats. 

"Did I stutter? Empty stomach. Mine. They didn't feed me, if you need me to be Captain Obvious."

"What," Osborn says, the face is makes a peculiar mixture between Christmas coming early and someone had shat in his cereal, again. Everyone turns to look at him.

"Don't be shy, Norman," Stark calls over. "How about I show all of you instead?" He pulls out his phone, types out a few commands -

And all of a sudden, the room is filled with the ringing of phones, on silent mode or otherwise. Loki pulls his own given mobile device out, where a short clip is playing. 

"...food. The next time I offer," comes Osborn's voice, "might be a long time."

The clip pauses there. Loki feels the colour drain from his face; besides him, Mystique watches the clip on her phone with a blank calmness; a countenance Loki is all too familiar with. He looks up accusingly at Stark and the infuriating man is already grinning at him, blowing him a kiss and mouthing thank you, darling.

Everyone's looking at Osborn now. 

"Sorry to cut it short, but the rest of it is me languishing away like a princess on top of a tower. Except I was underground. Wasn't above ground." Stark draws attention back to him, keeping an eye on the judge who looks up from his own phone. 

"Mr. Osborn," he says. "Is this true?"

"Of course not," Osborn blusters angrily but Stark cuts in. "Of course he'll deny it, what kind of question is that?"

"Wasn't he on the news for that human testing a few days ago?" People start to whisper, stares accusingly at Osborn, who glares defiantly back. Stark smiles like a cat who caught the canary. 

The judge bangs the hammer on his gavel once. "Order," he commands. "Today we gather to judge Anthony Stark, not to accuse our fellow men of other crimes. This is Stark's trial, and I will have it remain that way."

"Don't worry, your Honour," Stark chips in and grins, wolfish. "There's no way anyone would forget this trial today." He clears his throat, and it's coming, Loki can feel it in his bones for the air shifts with the scent of a well-planned play - "Avengers Assemble."

All hell breaks loose. 

It starts like this: 

Stephen Strange appears in the middle of courtroom with a loud audible 'pop', and a Hulk in a tow. 

There's a huge roar (from the Hulk), a couple of startled yells (from the reporter plus photographer) and a strangled squeal from  the judge himself that no one really notices because big, green and angry hostile is in the middle of a very packed courtroom. Strange gives a nasty little smile and proceeds to remove himself from the vicinity of the Hulk by teleporting himself out of the courtroom as the Hulk barrels into the rows of chair, sending the unlucky heroes scattering for safety, the even unluckier few caught and pummeled into the ground among the debris. 

If Loki may say so (and he truly does say so), they are well and truly fucked. 

As the Hulk embarks on its rampage, Loki pulls himself to Osborn's side. Get your armour, he shouts over the chaos and the man shakes his head, wild eyed, it's back at the Tower; to which Loki hisses useless. He glances over to see Amora and Skurge engaging the Hulk in combat along with other superheroes who have finally overcome the shock of an ambush; Fisk, Schmidt and the man with robotic arms being some of the few. 

Stay down, he orders Osborn, before Strange suddenly 'pops' back in again with a purple-clad man whom starts shooting arrows indiscriminately everywhere. Hawkeye, Loki registers before he catches sight of Stark scrambling out of the Hulk's way and towards the woman with the briefcase; before an arrow flies into his line of sight. 

He catches the damn arrow before it takes his eye out - and it explodes in his face. 

The impact leaves him reeling and would have surely blown his face off had he been less than a God - but Loki is no mortal. He scowls and staggers his way over to Stark, making sure to conjure a good-sized ball of green fire and aim it at Barton's face en route. 

Strange pops in yet again - when did he even leave - and deposits a hooded figure wielding a shield (of all things) and heading straight for Ambassador Schmidt. Loki pays him no attention, hoping that the combined efforts of the heroes of America would be enough to fend three members of the Avengers off, and finally come within hearing distance of Stark, who seems to be having a minor spat with the woman. 

"A raise, Stark," the woman is saying coolly, "you asked me to deliver a briefcase that ends up weighing like an elephant. This isn't in the job description."

"Trouble in paradise?" Loki inquires acidly as he finally shimmers into his full armour, horned helmet and all. Stark looks up at him, whistles once and grins.

"Not anymore, babe," and the man winks lasciviously at him. "Romanov, I'll give you that raise - so stand back." Romanov - the Black Widow, Loki realises, why didn't he realise- steps back with a triumphant and self-satisfied smirk as Stark says, "Daddy's home."

Loki has a split-second thought of Stark is Widow's father? before something else louder, more important, more familiar takes his attention with a loud 'pop' -

"Brother!"

Thor. 

a) Thor barrels towards him and Loki draws his staff of choice out to block Mjölnir's incoming blow;

b) Strange gives one last little bow to no one in particular and winks out of existence with a final 'pop';

c) His seidr fizzles out again, he knows what has befallen the room; Amora gives a strangled cry of surprise and outrage as Skurge takes a blow to his head from the Hulk;

d) And the briefcase, small and unassuming, spills out into a myriad of red-and-gold metal pieces, reassembling and attaching itself to Stark's body from the feet up in one fluid motion, the final touch being the slide of a golden metal mask over Stark's positively gleeful face;

And the courtroom falls silent (except for those involved with the Hulk and the Hulk itself). Someone whispers, "Iron Man."

"Yup," Stark's voice issues out of the armour. "That's me." 

There's a high-pitched whine, similar to whenever Osborn decides on firing the repulsors in his suit - which Loki realises that yes, Stark is going to fire something as the man raises his hand to fire a bluish-white beam at where the judge cowers. The wood bursts into flames and the judge, lucky, dives out of the way in time. 

"Oh yeah, baby," Stark says, "welcome to my trial."

The usual drill when dealing with anything pertaining to the Avengers has been: take the Hulk out, followed by Thor, the man known as the Captain and finally Hawkeye and the Widow. There has never been a case where Anthony Stark himself carried out the latest schemes of villainy on an unsuspecting New York - it is always the Captain with a plan, and the subtle wave of money beneath. 

The usual drill clearly does not apply in this case. 

The Hulk makes itself known again as it punches Skurge across the room, grinding chairs into sawdust; Hawkeye takes the opportunity to release a new volley of incendiary arrows into the bemused spectators of Stark's armour. The Captain seems to be viciously renewing his efforts in aiming for Ambassador Schmidt, who Madame Masque assists with her guns firing in rapid succession; the man with four mechanical limbs rises to the challenge of defeating Stark. 

Loki blocks the next swing of Mjölnir because mind you, without seidr he can still hold his own just fine. He knows that Amora is now resorting to hand-to-hand combat (against the Black Widow, of all people) even if she dislikes it greatly on the basis of the high possibility of breaking her nails - but desperate times call for desperate measures and the Cabal is becoming very desperate indeed. 

"Brother," Thor says, his voice booming in Loki's ears and Loki finds that he has missed it, although he is loathe to show it. "I have missed you too, if this is the way you wish to show your affection."

"No one asked you to greet me with a Mjölnir to my head, Thor," Loki snaps. He finds it increasingly hard to not tune Thor out and just focus on fighting his not-brother. They trade more blows (read: Loki avoids them and tries to sneak some in); Loki curses the anti-magic field Stark has invented and Osborn for being useless, and Thor merely takes everything in his joyful stride. 

"T'is a shame, brother," Thor says conversationally as he aims for Loki's solar plexus yet again, "that you cannot see the folly of the Midgardians. They truly are not worthy of the Nine Realms - see how they cower, how they lie and fight and kill amongst themselves!"

"Not our place to judge, Thor," Loki grits out, swiping at the back of Thor's knees. "What about your precious Avengers and your mortal friends? Are they not Midgardian as well?"

"They are of honour, and are the exception," Thor says confidently and Loki wonders for the millionth time since he set foot on this realm whether Thor has been living in a Midgardian cave while not calling thunder upon its cities. 

"T'is a shame then," Loki repeats mockingly, "that your loyalty is misguided as your sight is clouded." He plants his staff firmly onto the ground, using it as leverage to swing himself up and plant his feet into the middle of Thor's chest. A fine swing, Loki imagines, as Thor grabs onto his ankle and pulls him along, sending the both of them sprawling across the courtroom floor. 

Arse. 

He launches himself at Thor as soon as he skids to a stop, sorely missing his seidr and its ability to make duplicates of himself. Thor reciprocates the action by grappling with him, elbowing him in the face in one instance and kneeing each other in the gut in another, Mjölnir and staff all but forgotten. "See sense, brother mine," he grunts and Loki snarls back, "only if you see first."

Loki is on the verge of poking Thor's eyes out when something hot blasts past his ears, effectively distracting him. Thor takes the opportunity to heft Loki up and throw him across the room, and Loki can only thank the Norns that the Hulk did not notice a flying Norse God before he crashes into the wall. He scrambles up, only to notice that, that the heroes are, are losing.

Bodies are strewn across the floor like the hay in the stables of Asgard. Any furniture left are either on fire, pounded into sawdust or broken; a few humans (and Mystique, Loki notices) are furiously pushing at the door that refuses to open, intent on escape. Amora is still going at it with Widow, the former bearing noticeable gashes and the latter now assisted by Hawkeye; Masque is down for the count, and Schmidt faring no better with the Captain bearing down upon him. The Hulk is pummelling an unfortunate person into the ground. 

And Stark merely hovers in the air, smug (and victorious, Loki notes with the ripped off mechanical arm of the man from before, surely to join his extensive array of trophies), enjoying the show. 

A massacre, Loki realises. (Trap, trap, it's all a trap.)

He looks for Osborn within the mess, finds him hounded by the reporter and the photographer from the Daily Bugle, backed into a corner. "Why aren't you fighting, Mr. Osborn," the reporter is asking as the camera flashes, shot after shot. "How can you let this happen? Why aren't you assisting the Executioner and the Enchantress - "

What happens next is almost entirely too fast, but Osborn's hand shoots out and pins the reporter's neck to the wall, effectively choking her quiet. 

"Why don't you shut up."

Osborn's figure is wracked by what seems to be sobs, he finally gone off the deep end, but it is much, much worse. Rather than sobs, they are giggles, giggles that turn into nervous half-laughs and half-laughs that grows into full-blown maniacal cackling that leaves no doubts as to Osborn's state of mind. Osborn squeezes, tighter and tighter until finally an audible 'crack' resounds throughout the room and the reporter's neck snaps to the side; she falls to the ground, moves no more. 

The fighting stops there and then, everyone turning to watch America's beloved hero, the Iron Patriot. "Well?" Obsborn drawls, voice unhinged and eyes wide with unrestrained glee, "who's next?"

"The Green Goblin," the photographer who looks far too young to ignore the death of his colleague just like that shouts, "I know that laugh - it's the Green Goblin!"

"Smart kid," Osborn laughs and shoves the boy roughly into the wall. He stalks towards Stark, shit-eating grin on his face, mutters under his breath to himself and Loki thinks too far, out of control; Stark slides up his metal mask and says, -

"Took you long enough, Norman."

I want to put on a show.

He never said he would be the star. 

(Trap, trap, it's all a trap. Foolish little god.)

Stark grins down at Norman Osborn. "Say cheese."

It ends with Stark blasting a Hulk-sized hole through the ceiling, through which the Avengers make their escape up into the sky where a humongous aircraft awaits. 

It ends with the Hulk smashing Skurge one last time into the floor. 

It ends with the photographer (his lanyard reads Parker) snapping picture after incriminating picture of Osborn at his maddest. 

It ends with Stark grinning across the room as he uploads the footage of the whole fight to the Internet; not at Osborn, but at Loki, did you like the show? 

It ends with Loki standing in a room of fallen heroes, watching as an incoherently screeching Osborn is subdued and taken away, as Amora herself screams over her dead lover; as Loki stands alone. 

He visits Osborn later, his command of seidr finally restored to him. The latter is in a straitjacket, all pale pasty skin and darkened eye bags in a room of white padded walls. 

"Hello there, Odinson," Osborn says hoarsely. "You were right. He planned everything." His voice is stuttering and raspy, similar to what one would sound like after copious bouts of screaming. 

"What was that, Osborn," Loki half-demands. 

"That was the," and Osborn breaks out into a giggle, "the Green Goblin. I was a public menace, I was. Th-then I controlled it." He calms down, looking almost like the Osborn Loki knew, haughty and irritable, "and I became the Iron Patriot. I wasgood." A giggle-snort escapes, almost unwillingly. "Looks like I'm bust-ed."

He is. No sane member of the public would trust him now, the shining hero of America, actually so tarnished and unworthy. The Green Goblin of all personas - the top public enemy of a half-decade past, and Osborn had to be that one. Loki eyes him with pity and a trace of fear - it was madness, he knows, madness that Frost saw in Osborn's mind. 

"I'll see you again, Osborn," he finally says. 

"How about never," Osborn suggests. "Goodbye. The Cabal is gone."

It ends with the dissolution of the Cabal. 

It starts with one text on Loki's phone. 

'Need a place to stay, darling?' it reads. Loki looks up at Oscorp Towers and back down at the phone - the number is 'blocked', but he is fairly certain about the identity of the owner. 

What has he to lose now? Perhaps, he thinks, he should cease meddling with the Midgardian's affairs, and merely focus on bringing Thor home. 

'Yes.' he types back. 'Do you have a room?'

Send. 

A slick red car drives up on the road behind him, and the door slides open with an almost silent hiss. Loki turns around, gingerly approaches the vehicle. 

"Plenty of room," Stark drawls, devoid of armour. "Hop in, Buttercup."

Loki steps into the car, and the car door locks.