Father's Daughter

1.12

CHAPTER TWELVE

Loki crawled up the stairs of the wrecked Stark Penthouse, his once-pristine armor now battered and torn, his face bloodied. He looked like a broken rag doll, barely able to drag himself forward. As he tried to catch his breath, Loki’s sharp senses tingled. Someone—or several people—were behind him.

He turned his head, and his eyes narrowed. The Avengers stood before him, all of them glaring down at him with palpable anger. Lyra was just behind her father, Tony, gripping her staff tightly. The dark shadows around her coiled like restless snakes, ready to strike at a moment's notice.

Loki’s eyes lingered on her for a moment longer than the others. His lips curled into a wry smile, despite the pain. "If it’s all the same to you," Loki said, his voice strained but still carrying that arrogance, "I’ll have that drink."

"Really? After all of this?" Lyra raised an eyebrow, her voice sharp, her annoyance evident.

Loki's smile widened. He was clearly enjoying this, even in his beaten state. "Ah, darling. Still angry with me, I see."

Lyra's eyes narrowed dangerously, the shadows at her feet flickering in response to her irritation. "Don't call me that."

“Why not? You don’t like it?” he purred, his eyes gleaming with amusement despite the muzzle Thor had slapped onto his face moments later. Even restrained, he managed to look smug.

“I’d prefer you keep your slimy flattery to yourself,” Lyra shot back, her grip on her staff tightening. She could feel the dark energy within her thrumming, calling for her to lash out, but she resisted. This wasn't the time. Not yet.

Tony, clearly uninterested in Loki's attempts at flirtation with his daughter, snorted. “Yeah, definitely not the time for charming anyone, Reindeer Games,” Tony muttered.

Thor gave Loki a firm yank forward, his massive hand gripping Loki's arm tightly, as if sensing his brother’s desire to continue provoking everyone. They began leading Loki toward the main elevator, but as they passed Steve, Loki couldn't resist one last bit of mischief.

With a flash of green magic, he transformed into an exact copy of Steve, right down to the stern expression and Captain America uniform.

“I’m on my way down to coordinate search and rescue,” Loki mocked in Steve’s voice, a perfect imitation. He even mimicked the way Steve held his shield. “I mean, really, how do you keep your food down?”

Lyra crossed her arms, trying to hold back a snicker. “Is that supposed to be funny?”

Thor, clearly tired of his brother’s antics, slapped the muzzle back onto Loki’s face. Loki glowered at his brother as he was forced back into his original form, his eyes flashing with irritation.

"Yes, that's much better," Thor said with a satisfied nod, steering Loki toward the elevator again.

“Come along, Stark?” Thor’s voice broke her thoughts as he glanced at Tony, who was using his gauntleted hand to place the Tesseract into an aluminum case.

“One sec,” Tony said, not looking up. “Just packing my lunch.”

Lyra rolled her eyes at her dad’s quip but said nothing, following him as he joined Thor and Loki in the elevator. The others filed in behind them, but when the Hulk approached, the small space quickly became too crowded. The Avengers exchanged awkward glances.

“Hulk take stairs,” he muttered, his voice low but clearly irritated.

The elevator doors closed with a soft whoosh, leaving the others to smile at each other awkwardly as they descended.