Righteous Fury
Wrestling with intermittent sleep (he hadn’t enjoyed a peaceful rest since the fall), Loki awakens to the sound of a nearby ruckus. Afraid an enemy — either of this realm or from afar — was breaching his wards, Loki sprints towards the commotion. He meets eyes like saucers, a hovering hand. Angrboda is frozen in place, her gaze fixed on the panic-stricken man. Five is on the floor, as white as a sheet and trying to catch his breath.
“Is everything okay?”
Loki knows perfectly well everything is not okay. However, it’s the least intrusive way he can think of to nudge the pair out of whatever dark corner they’d found themselves in. Perhaps they shared the nicest bed in the hall, but chances are it was also the most troubling. Fortunately, his trick works. Angrboda shakes off the daze as she sits up. Meanwhile, Five’s breathing slows. He runs a reassuring hand through his hair. Their eyes meet, the faintest hint of a smile forming. The tension eases.
“I was expecting, uh, to wake up to straw.” Five looks shaky. “Good news! My powers are back.”
It’s best if they find something to eat. No one was going back to bed.
*
Nothing surprises Loki anymore. Instead of a tesseract or TemPad, small teams of third-tier TVA facsimiles pop in and out of existence in a futile attempt at protecting the nefarious Jarl. The blue clad pairs travel by way of cumbersome briefcase and carry increasingly sophisticated weaponry. Otherwise known as Loki’s usual unusual, but better. He hasn’t had so much fun since Pompeii, which is who in Helheim knows how long ago.
The benevolent god doesn’t possess their travel device because he hasn’t tried to obtain it. Doing so would undoubtedly ramp up their efforts. So far, the would-be assassins have acquired little understanding of the mischief maker’s capabilities and maintain limited intelligence-gathering methods, meaning they rarely stray far from the Jarl. Loki’s keen eyes always see their rivals first and it takes little effort to apply a concealment charm. That’s how, more often than not, Angrboda watches from a safe distance as their warrior releases some righteous fury on the brute’s supporters. Prolonging the swine’s terror while Loki teaches Five how to better wield his seiðr is a cheerful benefit.
Five’s ability to somewhat command time and space is definitely an asset, but Loki believes that his true talents are his enhanced speed and reflexes. The Otherworldly warrior had been named Flett for a reason. By duel-wielding short swords, and targeting his opponents’ weak points instead of clashing with blades directly, he swiftly finishes off foes while avoiding their attacks.
The god grins as he thinks about how the combat style, in many ways, matches his own. It is a phenomenal feeling to impart knowledge, and an even better feeling to see his tricks admired instead of scorned. Still, the second prince in him wonders what New Asgard thinks of his other self, or how they might perceive him today. Were they told of his shameful origins? In the grand scheme of things, it’s silly. Nevertheless, it weighs on him heavier than Mjolnir ever could.