The Bargain

Chapter 43: Forty-third Installment

Forty-Third Installment: Realm of Fire

"Where did he go?"

"I do not know. My spies have lost sight of him again."

"Find him, Surtr. We cannot underestimate him. You only need to buy me a little more time. I believe I'm almost there with the Aether staff. Whatever enchantment he placed upon it seems to have weakened a little. Foolish little boy underestimated my determination and skill. I will have this staff working for me by the time he comes. Then I will break him. All I need from you is a bit more time."

"You shall have it."

oOo oOo oOo

Muspelheim was dry, unbearably hot, and completely inhospitable. Of all the Nine, this was Loki's least favorite place. As a frost giant, heat did not agree with him. It was more tolerable in his Aesir form, but it was capable of penetrating deeper than the skin. Different form or not, he was still Jötunn.

There was no sun here, so at least he didn't have to worry about that as well as the rivers of fire and lava. As he shed his cloak and stashed it in his Astral pocket, he absently rubbed seiðr over his skin to protect himself from the heat. This realm did have its own beauty, one he could appreciate. He gathered the cloaks of his companions, as well. The glittering medallion on Stark's chest caught his eye.

The design was entirely Loki's idea. The surface of the flat, silver-gold locket looked exactly like Stark's Arc reactor. Which was also stored in Loki's Astral pocket. He wasn't sure what to do with the thing. Though he had no use for it, throwing it away seemed wasteful and . . . well . . .

Wrong. It had been an intrinsic part of Stark for a long, long time. It had kept the human alive. Protected him. He felt an odd sense of gratitude toward the thing. After all, Stark had been influential in the defeat of the Mad Titan and his Chitauri. Stark. His Stark.

Loki's lips quirked a little. Being pursued so doggedly by a man who absolutely refused to give up was a novel experience. Being the sole focus of a man's lustful affection was also new. For the first time, Loki allowed himself to be completely honest. Stark's stubbornness, his intense eyes, the carnal desire pouring off him in palpable waves, these things were all exciting.

When Stark had uttered those three words of devotion, Loki had not been unmoved.

Unmoved. Stark has the power to move me. I am affected by him. Whether that was good or bad, it was new. It was exciting. It made Loki feel . . .

Young.

Something he had not felt since he was just a boy.

The realization gave Loki pause. Stark treats me like I'm younger than him. Like it is he who takes care of me. It was attention of a kind Loki had never received. Everyone knew Loki was capable of taking care of himself. He was clever, quick-witted, and more intelligent than anyone else. He didn't need special consideration.

To suddenly have it was . . .

New.

"Loki?" Thor queried softly at his side.

Realizing he was just kind of staring off across the horizon, Loki blinked and refocused his attention. "I can sense her," he mused.

"The witch?" Thor said, gripping the hilt of his hammer.

Loki smiled. "No. My staff." His eyes fluttered shut. It had been far too long since they'd been this close, and she could sense him, too. "Just a little longer, my love. Be patient just a little longer." These last words whispered.