The Seventh Stone

Chapter Nineteen

"That incomparable dullard," Loki scowls as he straightens his armor in the neighboring section of the armory—which is dark and considerably stale, having been built underneath the tree. "Can't say he didn't have it coming, really."

"I don't disagree," I mumble nervously from another section of the room, otherwise quietly assembling the armor that'd been given to me.

For a moment, I look up into the mirror and peer at the dark, navy colored suit, noting the silver embellishments that stretch across the front—which are vaguely reminiscent of the silver stiles from the throne room. A symbol of the crown, maybe? It reminds me more of the god stone's strings.

The fabric is sturdy and flexible, but not enough to conceal the feeling of my heart beating wildly as I clamp more armor over my chest. I assume this particular piece was made especially for me, since the suit only extends down my left arm—while the other is clad in additional cuffs, bearing the same intricate metal design that can be found across my pauldrons and knee caps.

Loki's fumbling suddenly pauses. "Are you alright back there?"

I shake my head silently. "Yeah—I'm fine," I lie, locking the final pauldron in place. A long, grey cape tumbles down from it, down the left side of my back, as I step out from around the corner—briefly noticing the green accents on Loki's otherwise black and silver armor, which crosses over itself down the length of his torso. The only similarity between us is the design on his metal pauldrons—even his cloak is a deep green shade.

I glance at a pair of long, silver daggers hanging on the wall behind him as I approach. "It's just," I murmur doubtfully, as anxiety buzzes in my chest. "I don't know if I can do this..."

"What do you mean?" he asks flatly—as though he already knows the answer, but still wants to hear my thoughts.

I pause for a moment, scoffing as I gesture at the armor. "I'm an artist," I croak, feeling a sudden wetness tinge my eyes. It's a sharp realization—that the weight of my conviction is meaningless, that this new reality has decided another fate for me. "At least I was," I add, turning away from his solemn expression to lean against a crate.

"I'd say you've managed to hold your own in a fight," he says, stepping toward me.

I shake my head. "That was different. You didn't see the vision—it's war out there," I gesture toward the walls. "And we're about to march right into it, today, and I—I haven't even had the time to process all of this... Even if I survive," I pause, holding Loki's sullen gaze. "I don't know what I'm supposed to do afterwards. With the stone. I can't just leave it here."

"That's part of the reason I wanted you to come back to Asgard. We could keep it safe there—together. You'll protect the stone," he says softly. "And I'll protect you."

Warmth swells in my chest as I peer up at him doubtfully. "But then everyone will know that it exists," I say quietly. "There are good reasons for it to have stayed hidden."

Loki looks away darkly, pivoting slightly against the stone floor. I tilt my head suspiciously. "What?"

"There's only one thing that worries me on that note—one being," he says.

"Who?" I ask impatiently.

"Thanos," Loki looks back at me—and coldness settles in my chest at the as the hint of some dark memory dances across his eyes. "He's the one that sent me to Earth, furnished me with an army—he'd organized the initiative, and burdened me with it."

I pause. "Not just you..." I mumble, and shake my head briskly. "But that's not what this is about—who is this person?"

"He's not a person," Loki continues. "He's a titan—the Mad Titan. He's sought after the infinity stones for the longest time. I don't know many he's managed to obtain."