Chapter 5
Steve lay on the uncomfortable plastic couch, and felt the tranquilizer slowly clearing from his bloodstream. He wondered how long it had been intended to last. Then he wondered how long it had lasted, since he had lost all sense of time for a while there.
Soft beeps and buzzes came from the bed nearest him, where Loki was laid out. On the far side of Loki’s bed, though he couldn’t see it from his position, Steve knew that there was another one, holding Clint. No beeps came from that one, because Clint was totally uninjured and didn’t need his vitals monitored. He was just sleeping off the exhaustion of fighting a demigod for over two hours, mechanized suit or no mechanized suit. A drip of electrolyte fluid was stuck in his arm, and he was snoring softly.
Steve was sober enough to feel angry. This fight was supposed to be fair, he thought, mentally comparing the hundred and forty pounds of raw hamburger in Loki’s bed, to the comfortably resting, wholly intact, human-shaped human in Clint’s.
Now that he was sobering up though, and thinking back on Loki’s behavior before the fight, he realized that it might not actually be Clint that he was mad at. It was Loki who had introduced the possibility of a duel, and then he had as good as told Steve that he was doing it because he wanted to do it. The question that Steve’s mind was obsessively probing now, like a tongue at a loose tooth, was Had Loki meant to win?
Somehow Steve didn’t think so. Something told Steve that Loki mostly won the fights that he meant to win. But did that imply that he could also have meant to lose the Battle of New York, two years ago?
Thor had told them all that Loki was inscrutable and twisty in his ways, but Steve felt like he was just now beginning to grasp the full extent of that. It was unsettling. And fascinating.
Steve loved military strategy. For fun, he would read books written by great generals of the past (who were unfortunately never the great writers of the past) and spend hours contemplating a battle that had been fought thousands of years ago. Scipio, Arrian, Rommel, Julius Caesar, etc. were light night-time reading for him. He thought of himself as someone who could see through several layers of a battle, to the war behind it. But, for some reason, he hadn’t fully expected Loki to do the same.
And to do it so subtly. Steve was sure that Clint had no idea that Loki had essentially thrown the fight. More than thrown it – drawn it out and dramatized it, letting his own body be used as the stage-prop for a five-act play of revenge. Steve had gone into any number of fights knowing that he would lose, in the bad old days, but he had never even thought of doing it deliberately, or making a gosh-darned work of art out of it.
A moan broke from the bed nearest Steve, and he was instantly on his feet, looking down into Loki’s bruised and bandaged face.
Loki’s eyes were still closed. He was probably groaning unconsciously from pain, since standard pain medications turned out to do as little for him as they did for Steve.
“Muh…” he said, then, “Muth…”
Steve’s mouth turned down unhappily. He had always hated it when an injured soldier called for their mother. He hated it because he couldn’t do anything about it.
Taking Loki’s hand tenderly between both of his own, Steve tried to reassure him.
“It’s okay, you’re going to be alright. You’re starting to heal already, I think you’re even faster than me. And you’re perfectly safe, I won’t let anyone hurt you.”
A rushing sound behind him startled Steve, and Loki’s eyes simultaneously popping open doubly startled him.
Steve whipped around to face the unexpected noise, and found himself looking at a dark-skinned man with solemn golden eyes standing hand-in-hand with what could only be a queen. Steve wasn’t even quite sure how he knew, but he knew.
She dropped the familiar silver case that she held in her free hand, and passed by Steve as if he wasn’t there, intent only on Loki.
Bending over him, cradling his face gently in both hands, stooping her auburn head to kiss his brow, she instantly gave her identity away. Loki hadn’t been calling for his mother, he had been heralding her imminent arrival.
Steve faded back to stand beside the man, who must, from Thor’s descriptions, be Heimdall.
“Oh my sweet brave boy, whatever have you been doing?” Frigga crooned, kissing Loki’s eyelids and cheeks.
Loki’s hands came hesitantly up to clutch at the sleeves of her dress
“Mother?” Loki murmured, sounding unsure if she was a hallucination. “Mother…”
“I’m here, my darling, we’ll have you feeling better in no time, just lie back.” She pressed him softly down into the mattress, against his feeble efforts to sit up.
Steve felt Heimdall’s hand tugging him towards the wall.
“Best stand back, Captain.”
Frigga began to hum a low, pleasingly eerie melody. It almost sounded familiar to Steve, but it was at the same time so purely foreign that he couldn’t imagine where he would have heard it. Her hands were resting on either side of Loki’s neck, and the gesture reminded Steve of something he had seen Thor do. It was clear that Steve was witnessing a private family moment, but he couldn’t look away.
As she hummed, a soft golden glow seemed to shine on Frigga from nowhere, and to glitter on particles in the air. The hum began to echo and resonate strangely, growing both louder and farther away. Loki’s eyes were fixed on her face, and Steve could tell from the angle of her head that she was looking down into Loki’s.
“Mother,” whispered Loki, under the rising and falling cadences of her hum, “I have shamed you. Shamed the upbringing you gave me.” Already his voice sounded clearer, and Steve could see bruises melting away like snow under bright sunlight.
Frigga moved the fingertips of one hand to his lips, shushing him, and continued her hummed song – spell? – to its end.
“You have never caused me shame, my love,” she murmured as the last echoing notes of the music faded away, “Only a certain amount of worry.”
“Odin is looking for you,” Loki said urgently, trying to sit up again.
Frigga held him down easily, “I know, darling, but he won’t be in any condition to find me for several hours. Heimdall keeps a close watch on him.” She stroked her thumbs over Loki’s eyebrows, smoothing out his worried expression. “You should rest, dear one, you’ll need all your strength, if you agree to my plan, and I must go and speak to your brother.”
Loki’s eyes fell shut instantly, and his head dropped back onto the pillow.
Now, for the first time, Frigga turned her attention on Steve.
“Steven Grant Rogers, Captain of America, Champion of Midgard,” she addressed him.
“Ma’am?” He stood up very straight, trying to remember if you were supposed to salute a foreign queen.
“Will you continue to watch over my son, as you have done so admirably thus far?”
He didn’t think she was being sarcastic, in spite of the state she had just found Loki in. “Yes, ma’am. I’ll consider it a privilege.”
A little smile tucked in the corners of Frigga’s mouth. “Very good. I go to apprise Thor of the situation.”
She swept regally from the room, as Steve was still stammering, “I-I think Fury’s got him…”
Heimdall strode after her, and Steve was alone in the room with two unconscious bodies again.
Or so he thought.
“Well, I’ll be a sonuvabitch,” Clint said softly, “So that’s the lady we have to thank for Thor and Loki. She doesn’t seem too bad.”
Steve swallowed before he spoke. His own mother had called him ‘darling’ and ‘my brave boy.’ “No, she seems…okay. What do you think her plan is?”
“No idea,” answered Clint, “But I bet I could name two demigods who will agree to it, no matter what it is.”
“Clint,” Steve asked hesitantly, not sure he wanted to know, “What did Loki say to you in there?”
“Oh, at first he was just trying to get me riled. And succeeding,” said Clint quietly, shrugging, “Then he kept asking me if I was satisfied yet. I thought he was getting bored.”
Clint was silent for a long moment, but Steve could tell he was chewing over something else he wanted to say. At last it came out.
“But that wasn’t it. Steve, he was seriously asking if I was satisfied. I think he would have let me go on forever, if I had kept saying no.”
Steve had to clear his throat again. “Glad you didn’t.”
“Yeah,” said Clint sounding puzzled, “Yeah, me too.”
*****
Frigga sat in Fury’s usual seat, at the head of the conference table. Fury, trying to look as though that had been his idea, was sitting at the foot. Behind Frigga, his arms folded, stood Heimdall, and mirroring his position, Maria Hill stood behind Fury. The rest of the Avengers, Loki, Dr. Levitt, Jane Foster, Professor Selvig, Jarvis (wearing some of Thor’s Midgardian clothes), and Miss Darcy were all seated along the sides. It was like the strangest Thanksgiving imaginable.
On the table sat the silver case containing the Tesseract.
“Odin will be awake soon,” Frigga told the odd assembly. “He seeks this artifact, to take to his master, and the artifact that he has is connected to this one. He can follow it anywhere. If he should get it, and deliver it to his master, that master will then have two of the six Firstborn, the six powers of creation. He is not to be trusted with them. He is quite insane.”
“And just who is this ‘master’?” Fury asked.
“Odin addresses him as ‘Great Titan’,” Frigga replied. “It is his will which is bound to the scepter.”
“Thanos,” said Loki quietly, looking down at his clasped hands on the table.
There was a soft intake of breath from Heimdall.
Frigga continued, “It is imperative that we not allow this cube to fall into Odin’s possession, and it is equally important that we take the scepter from him. Odin, under the fell Titan’s influence, is a great danger to every inhabitant of the Nine Realms.”
“Lady,” Fury addressed her, “Your husband has already been here, and, not to put too fine a point on it, he trounced us. We don’t have anyone on our side who can do much in the face of magic.”
“He is not my husband,” Frigga corrected Fury mildly, “And you have Loki.”
All eyes turned to Loki. Steve thought he took the scrutiny well, but seemed weary beneath his princely demeanor.
“Mother, you surely don’t mean to suggest that I am any match for Odin? We have seen that that is not true,” he said, in the most respectful tone Steve had ever heard from him.
“Alone, you are not,” she nodded, “But you are not alone. Odin gave you a partner.”
Now everyone turned to look at Thor. He looked stern, his blue eyes steely, ready to fight anyone or anything at his mother’s bidding.
“Do you know the circumstances of Odin’s succession to the throne?” Frigga asked, seemingly addressing only Loki.
Loki tilted his head curiously, “Upon his father Bor’s death, Odin was crowned.”
“Hm,” said Heimdall.
“Odin was a dutiful son, to all appearances loving his father. He went with him everywhere, learning from him all that he could. One day, when he felt that his strength had reached its peak, and he had learned all that Bor had to teach him, Odin spoke up before the eyes of all Asgard and challenged his father for the throne.” Frigga looked calmly around at the humans present, “Asgardian law allows for that form of succession,” she told them.
“Odin slew Bor in single combat, and exiled his own mother, the giantess Bestla, knowing that she would avenge her husband if permitted to stay. Many protested against Odin’s kingship at first, saying that the son who could kill a loving father was no fit ruler. Odin slew them too. Or silenced them in other ways.”
“When Thor was born, Odin went to Mimir’s head to ask how to prevent his own son from killing him, as he had killed his father. Mimir gave Odin the idea of a second son, one who would match and temper Thor. Rather than teaching all he knew to one son, and thus making the mistake of Bor, Odin would give each son only half the education of a king-”
“I knew it!” came loudly from Tony. “Or, I guess, Bruce knew it.”
“In this way, Odin could ensure that only the two sons working together could ever take the throne from him. And, as their father, he could control their degree of alliance. If they seemed to be growing too close, he could place some cause of jealousy or resentment between them. If they grew too distant, he could bring them together in a common cause. Thus he could, as he thought, control the timing of the succession. When he was ready, and not before, he could relinquish his throne to the two sons, who could rule together or not at all.”
Thor groaned and dropped his face into his hands.
“Brucie, you are so smart,” Tony whispered very audibly across the table.
“For myself, I am willing to challenge Odin,” said Loki, “But I am not currently able. I have exhausted my seithr in recent days, and I know not when it will be recovered.”
“Of course, beloved,” Frigga said calmly, “You must have time to regain your strength and strategize with Thor, while I make ready an appropriate site for the battle. I will go, and return in one month.”
“A month-!” cried Thor.
“But, Mother!” Loki said at the same moment. “Odin will be following you all that time! You will be in grave danger.”
“Do not worry for me, my dear ones. With Heimdall to watch Odin, and the cube to take us from end to end of the Cosmic Forest in the twinkling of an eye, I will be safe enough for one month.”
“My queen,” broke in Heimdall, “He wakes.”
Frigga got to her feet, and took a hand of each of her sons. “We must go now, my loves. We will return in one month. Be good to each other and know that your mother’s love goes with you, always.”
Thor and Loki stepped forward to kiss her, one by one, and then she took up the Tesseract’s case, moved into Heimdall’s waiting arms, and the two of them vanished with a sound like wind in the treetops.