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….
"So, congratulations. Thanks to your little field trip, I am now a patricide and the absolute ruler of a race of vicious ice monsters. Which is a workload I can manage perfectly fine, but not if I also have to govern Asgard, a realm entirely populated by people who violently hate those same ice monsters."
"I… but…" the big guy opened and closed his mouth helplessly.
"Don't worry about your mortal, you can easily invite her to Asgard as an honored guest. And not just her."
"I can?" Thor asked in disbelief.
"Well, they have a royal decree," I shrugged. "Besides, my mortal guests have been admiring the beauties of the Golden City for three days now, so either way, I'm the one who's going to be the vile violator of traditions."
"I…" The Thunderer dropped his gaze to the floor, lost. "Thank you…" he exhaled after a minute of silence.
"You're welcome. Now let's go, I still have to get you up to speed..."
The humans were waiting nervously for us at the dining table, clutching coffee mugs. They jumped up the moment we came into view.
"Jane, my friends," Thor began solemnly. "I have enjoyed your hospitality all this time; now, I ask you to be my guests!"
Heh, he knows how to string words together when he needs to.
"Guests?" Darcy repeated.
"He's inviting you to Asgard, taking advantage of the fact that I don't have time to argue, my job as a history teacher hasn't been canceled. And summer break is still a long way off," I "clarified" the situation.
"A God of Asgard works as a history teacher?" the 'Scandinavian drunkard' blinked.
"It started as a hobby to unwind my brain, but then I got sucked in."
"And this is normal?" Foster asked. "I mean... Asgard... gods..."
"You don't have to go anywhere, I'm not forcing anyone. Thor..." I glanced at the blond. "He's not forcing you either."
Naturally, framed like that, the humans didn't think for long. Within fifteen minutes, after calling colleagues, friends, and acquaintances to warn them they'd be "away on business" for a few days, they were ready to roll.
And so we were prepped for the journey. I grabbed Laura's souvenirs from the car and assured the mortals once again that the vehicle was now theirs, I mean, I wasn't going to take back my gift, really. We headed toward the edge of town to avoid opening the Rainbow Bridge right in the middle of a populated area.
And everything would have been fine, but... I underestimated S.H.I.E.L.D.'s utter blockheadedness.
We had barely rounded the last building when several brutal black SUVs swerved to cut us off. Armed men poured out, blocking our path, while another squad of operatives materialized behind us. All I could do was heave a heavy sigh.
"Hands behind your head and get on your knees!"
Wow, these mortals have completely lost their minds. Among them was Agent Coulson, currently speaking into a bullhorn. I confess, I had a higher opinion of his cognitive functions before this.
"You know," I said, in no hurry to comply with their demands, "you guys really never learn. Admit it, your job description expressly forbids you from being smarter than your boss, right? And after Fury took over, there was simply no one left on staff smarter than a barstool?"
"What are you, " the baffled agent began.
"But tell me, if I were to say 'Hydra Dominatus' right now, how many of the guys here would realize I'm one of them and turn their guns on the loyalists?"
"..."
"Oh, excuse me, wrong universe. Hail Hydra! Code Omega-3-8-15."
"Hail!"
"Hail!"
Oh, Coulson's face in that moment was priceless. Especially after two-thirds of his men sharply spun around and aimed their weapons at the rest. I love illusions.
Both simple optical and auditory ones, as well as the tangible ones that had materialized behind the mortals for just a fraction of a second, casting a simultaneous knockout charm on everyone.
They didn't even have time to flinch, too absorbed in the theatrical performance and trying to figure out what the hell was happening and who exactly was a traitor.
Because every man saw his neighbor aiming a gun at him, and naturally, immediately raised his own weapon in response, which very quickly blurred the visual line between my suggestion and reality.
"Uhhh... what was that just now?" Foster voiced the collective thought.
"Ah," I waved a hand dismissively. "Local crazies. I told you about them last time. Pay no attention, they think they're a highly professional secret organization, but..." I winced, shaking my head, and tilted my face to the sky. "Heimdall, bring us home."
Right, I desperately need to see a psychiatrist. I literally just heard a sigh of relief... Oh, wait, no, that's just the connection to the Destroyer. Nevertheless, the rainbow radiance obediently swept us up. Excellent. All that's left is to make an announcement to the noble Aesir and Vanir about the appointment of my Viceroy, and I can finally bail!
…
Several days later. Asgard.
Thor stood on the palace balcony, watching with mixed feelings as the golden beam of the Bifrost pierced the fabric of space, carrying his brother away to Midgard.
Loki had asked not to be seen off, and the Son of Odin had respected his brother's wish.
Yes... His brother. Despite everything, despite all the revelations and circumstances, over the past few days Loki had proven more than ever that they were brothers.
Not by blood, perhaps, but everything else that truly defines kinship was there between them.
In the past, the Prince of Asgard had often allowed himself, openly and even publicly, to doubt the bravery and valor of his scrawny younger brother. It wasn't out of malice... rarely out of malice.
More often, Thor was just teasing the God of Mischief, who had taken root in his books and workshops.
And Loki hadn't taken offense... supposedly. He almost always agreed to go along on a campaign or an adventure through the streets of Asgard afterward.
Looking back on those days now, the Thunderer felt ashamed. He had been ashamed of many things lately, but perhaps of this most of all.
For his sake, Loki had not feared to step alone onto the dark ice of Jotunheim, to walk right into the very lair of the Frost Giants, and to speak to Laufey there with such audacity that even the fearless Heimdall described it as nothing short of "monstrous."
A monstrous audacity and arrogance that had even baffled their father's ancient enemy, forcing him to play into Loki's hands and accept his terms.
Quiet, fond of subtle pranks that never left a trace back to their author, eternally cautious and prudent... who could have expected Loki to be capable of such a thing?
He, Thor, certainly hadn't. And his friends, who seemed to be the absolute last to learn of all this, had been walking around like drowned rats for days.
Sif looked particularly stunned, so much so that during the telling of the tale, the Thunderer was seriously afraid her eyes might sustain some sort of permanent damage from popping out of her head so far.
And now a painful question tormented the man: had he really become so obsessed with his status as the Mighty Thor and the heir to the throne that he had been so utterly blind to who his brother truly was?
Because it certainly looked that way. Loki had always helped them get out of scrapes, always came to their rescue, but they had never appreciated it.
He had never appreciated it.
How many of those instances, which he had dismissed as mere trifles that only slightly hastened victory, had actually been vastly more important?
Instances where, without Loki, everything could have ended in utter disaster?
….
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