Chapter 8
“Good morn, Brother!” Thor smiled brightly as Loki sat at the counter.
Steve got out a frying pan and started scrambling eggs while Thor filled Loki in on all that was going on in
Asgard. Loki only half-listened, too sleepy yet to care to comprehend unimportant information.
A loud, sharp clink, and two pieces of bread popped out of a metal contraption. Loki jumped. Thor laughed as annoyance replaced Loki’s shocked expression.
He took the pieces of bread from the contraption, now slightly toasted, and spread peanut butter on one, and a clear, sticky-looking orange liquid on the other.
Was that—?
Thor pushed the second piece across the counter to Loki, “I brought some of your favorite honey.”
“Wilwark’s honey?” Loki gasped.
“Yep.”
“I thought you hated it?”
“I do,” Thor answered, sliding onto the stool next to him to chomp on his toast, “Mother insisted I bring you some.”
Loki hummed, thoughtful. He would have to remember to thank her next time they spoke.
He missed her.
Maybe he should write her a letter and send it with Thor? Thor is still speaking with her; she hasn’t left Asgard. Has she even considered what Loki told her? What would it take to convince her to leave?
How much time did he have?
Tyr claimed to be after the royal family, for the protection of Asgard, but it seemed more likely that Tyr really wanted more power to hold over Loki as a bonus.
Taking Loki on a night ride to kill Baldur, Loki’s favored uncle, had been no mistake, and nor was killing Brunnhilde and Herja, the only people willing to help him to escape.
Loki pushed the thoughts away.
He wouldn’t let Tyr get to him.
He’d told Thor of the threat and Frigga was made aware. She would be safe.
He finished his piece of toast, and stood up to grab another two pieces of bread, only to stare at the machine meant to toast them.
“How do you work this thing?” he asked.
“Here,” Thor took the bread from him and placed it in the machine, “I’ll show you.” He pushed down a lever, and the bread began toasting, “The Midgardians call it a toaster.”
“Intriguing,” Loki said, peering into the toaster.
“Indeed,” Thor agreed as Steve scraped eggs on their plates.
The toaster chimed. Loki took the bread out and started spreading honey on a piece of toast. Steve reached across the counter to read the label on the jar.
“Can I try some?”
His first instinct told him to say no, but he handed over a piece of toast anyway, “. . . I suppose.”
He told himself what Steve had done last night to help him had nothing to do with it. And he definitely did not watch eagerly for his reaction.
“Wow,” was all Steve had to say a moment after taking a bite of the toast, a pinched expression on his face, “That's an interesting taste.”
Loki’s hopeful expression fell even as he tried to hide his disappointment, “You don’t like it?”
He pitched his tone carefully to sound nettled and harsh.
“Sorry, it’s just . . .“ the Captain trailed off as Clint strutted into the kitchen.
Thor shook his head, “You cannot blame him. Stuff’s super strong.”
“There’s the word for it,” Steve agreed, relieved at Thor’s defense.
“What stuff?” Clint asked, sitting at the counter where Loki had been, and pushed his plate out of the way to make room for his own breakfast, a bowl of cereal.
“Wilwark’s honey,” Loki answered.
“I’m sorry, Steve,” Clint said, pointedly ignoring Loki, “Did you hear something?”
Ever since Loki had joined the Avengers, Clint had refused to even acknowledge Loki’s presence.
He supposed that was fair.
“Loki said—“
“I’m sorry, who?”
“Wilwark’s honey,” Thor said, his voice taking on a deep growl, “I brought it back for Loki. If you have quarrels with my brother, I suggest you take your grievances elsewhere.”
Clint only glared at him in response.
Steve, trying to diffuse the tension, offered up his half-eaten piece of toast, “Try some?”
“No thanks,” Clint answered, “I’d rather not have all your super-soldier germs.”
“Chicken,” Natasha cut in, walking in to grab the piece of toast from Steve’s hand on the way to the refrigerator. She took a bite and hummed as she took out a jug of orange juice.
“Meh.”
“Meh?” Loki’s expression was indignant, “Am I the only one with good taste in this household?”
He glanced at Tony and Bruce, who had taken their place at the kitchen table with matching bedheads and steaming beverages.
Since when did Tony drink tea?
“Maybe,” Natasha shrugged, finishing off the piece of toast, “Tony and Bruce both hate honey, so . . .”
“Oh for the Norns’ sake,” Loki grumbled.
“Think of it this way, Winnie,” Stark said, patting him on the back on his way to the fridge, “You won’t have to worry about anyone stealing your honey.”
“Winnie?” Loki muttered under his breath, but Tony heard it.
“You know. Winnie the Pooh?”
Should he even ask what a “pooh” was? Loki had a feeling he would find himself wanting to stab the mortal if he did. Absurd nicknames aside, the Man of Iron had a point. Though Loki doubted anyone would dare steal from him, it would be nice not to have to deal with sharing it.
“Anyway,” Tony sighed, leaning against the counter with his drink, “I’ve got a press conference today.”
Natasha glanced back at him with a chastising look.
“Be glad none of you guys have to go to them,” Tony said indignantly, pushing off the counter and leaving the room to grab his car keys.
“What do you think this one’s about?” Bruce asked quietly.
“Loki, probably,” Natasha answered logically as Tony strode back into the kitchen.
“You mean ‘The Raven,’” Clint corrected her, “The Avengers aren’t housing a supervillain.”
“They’re gonna want a civilian name,” Tony warned, pausing halfway through the door, “Any preferences, Reindeer Games?”
Loki thought for a moment, then answered, “They used to call me Skywalker.”
“Skylor Walker, then,” Stark confirmed, and left.
“Any news on Tyr?” Natasha asked, directing the question at Thor.
“Father claims that Tyr has gone completely mad,” Thor answered gravely, “He is on a quest for the Infinity Stones.”
Of course, Loki thought ruefully, because acquiring the infinity stones is a surefire way to secure the safety of the universe from Ragnorak.
With power like that, one could do exactly the opposite with a snap of their fingers.
Hypocrite.
Loki noticed Bruce tense across the room, “Infinity Stones? What are those?”
“The most powerful relics,” Thor explained, as though everyone should know such an important story, “They are the very foundation of our universe.”
“Why would Tyr be looking here, then?” Bruce asked, “Earth is just one of a million different planets in a million different solar systems.”
The longer the Avengers discussed the infinity stones, the more Loki questioned their competency as heroes.
At least one of them should’ve been smart enough to figure it out, but nope.
When he was unable to take it any longer, Loki stood, upsetting the silverware and plates on the counter, “Fools! All of you! You’ve already seen two of them!”
“What?”
“Don’t tell me you haven’t figured it out yet?”
“The tesseract,” Clint snapped, “That’s got to be one of them.”
“And the other?” Loki growled impatiently.
“The scepter,” Thor breathed, realization dawning on him. He looked up at Loki, horror alight in his eyes, “The mind stone.”
Shame and fear jolted in Loki’s chest. Thor couldn’t find out.
“The Mind Stone,” Loki affirmed.
“So that’s why Tyr was in Arizona,” Tony remarked.
“We’re lucky SHIELD moved the stone when they did,” Loki answered.
“No,” Natasha shook her head, “SHIELD didn’t move the scepter; it should’ve been there.”
“They had to have moved it,” Loki insisted, “Tyr would’ve found it.”
“So where is it?” Bruce asked.
Loki shrugged, “How am I supposed to know?”
“Brother, you don’t know how dangerous—“
“Stop! Just, stop. I’m well aware of what the stones are capable of.”
“But that doesn’t make sense!” Thor protested, confused and frustrated, “Two infinity stones for rule of Midgard, and you failed?”
Any way you look at it, Loki looked like a fool.
Better a fool than a coward.
“I had a plan,” he insisted, but even as he spoke it, it sounded feeble, a terrible lie.
When had he gotten so bad at lying?
“What else can the Mind Stone do?” Natasha asked.
Loki went silent.