Late evening. Asgard. The depths of the palace.
Odin's treasury was a separate building inside the palace, erected at the junction of two bridges that passed through a colossally huge hall, which could easily accommodate several earthly stadiums. Each bridge had two narrow spans, easily visible from any point, falling from them to the bottom of the hall would mean death even for an ace, so enormous was the height, and the builders took care of "pleasant" surprises for such a jumper, additionally turning the entire inner surface of the hall into a deadly trap, which even the owners of this place are undesirable to touch. The treasury could only be reached via 24-hour guarded bridges and in no other way. Well, the monolith of the treasury itself from the side resembled a kind of chest suspended on chains, despite the fact that it was the size of a good apartment building.
True, perhaps the last association was just a quirk of my sick mind, which took too close to heart in childhood some Soviet cartoon about Koschei the Deathless and his famous chest, in which there was a hare, in which there was a duck, in which there was an egg, and so on, and which hung on an oak tree in chains. In fact, I am no longer sure of anything - not after I dragged a small child into the holy of holies of Asgard, literally into the storage of a bunch of deadly divine artifacts. I honestly believed that I was of sound mind and memory, but when I thought about it - I realized that somehow not ... somehow not a damn thing like that. Although wait ... Odin is to blame for everything! Definitely him! He also dragged Thor and me here at about the same age!
Oh my god...
I am his grandson, and this, it turns out, is direct proof that the family idiocy was passed on to me... On the one hand, this, of course, explains a lot in the life of my predecessor, but... No... Well, please, no, I don't want to...
Somehow, noticing my state, Laura, who was next to me, stopped looking around and turned her brown eyes to me. I had to pull myself together, so as not to embarrass myself in front of the child. A small part of me, obviously responsible for common sense and logic, tried to give me a kick and make me take the girl away from sin, but... we had almost reached the end of the bridge, and the trudge to the guest quarters to hand her over to her mother was so long... In the end, X-23 is ten heads more adequate and restrained than Thor and I were at her age, and if the larvae of these two acrobat brothers were able to walk through the treasury and not screw up (especially Thor), then she would definitely cope. Yes, all this is out of respect for her, and not because of my laziness!.. O eternal spark of creation, I am already convincing myself through an appeal to the coolness of a ten-year-old girl, what did Asgard do to me in these pitiful few hours?!
So, with a tenacity worthy of a true descendant of Odin, suppressing within myself the sprouts of reason, conscience and adequacy, I went down the bridge to the gates of the suspended structure and, gesturing to leave the einherjar guards at their post, went inside, dragging a small innocent girl along with me.
The magical energy collected in the treasury blew a prickly breeze across my skin. Each trophy of Asgard's past achievements rested in its own niche, shielding it from the others, but the overall background still forced me to pull myself together and throw unnecessary thoughts out of my head. Gungnir in my hand also reacted to the alien force. In fact, it was he who allowed me to feel it more acutely than had happened before, but the spear of the Kings itself seemed to whisper to me that it was ready for battle, although it did not sense any real danger - it simply reminded me. In general, it "reminded" me of many things, for example, it was a somewhat unpleasant surprise for me that Gungnir had an extremely negative attitude towards being in a subspace pocket. That is, I could remove it, but it took offense at this and did not hesitate to pour out this emotion on me. An attempt to figure out what was going on led to the artifact explaining to me "on my fingers", or rather, in images of feelings, that it was a symbol of Power , a Status thing and simply a Handsome Man , in connection with which it should not be hidden and ugh to be like that if you try. In other words, everyone should see how awesome it is, ALWAYS . It was not capable of thinking in fully understandable categories, but the general meaning was exactly that. In short, Odin's spear and I had yet to fully get used to each other, but that was not important now. Now I came here for the legacy of my other father...
"Don't touch anything," I warn Laura as soon as we've descended the steps to the treasury floor I need. "Most of the things here are extremely dangerous, even if they look broken."
"…" the girl nodded understandingly, remaining silent as usual.
We slowly walked down the central corridor between the niches and found ourselves at a pedestal with a bizarre rectangular device in which streams of light were continuously swirling. The Casket of Ancient Winters looked like a solid blue crystal, bound in metal in some places and faceted on the surface by a skilled master of jewelry. Its magic, powerful and deadly, which could be felt from a distance of several steps, swirled like a thin veil around the pedestal, but remained unshakable and calm. For the frost giants, the Casket was an artifact even more valuable and important than Gungnir and Mjolnir for the Asgardians, but it so happened that my predecessor never thought about "why?" Once upon a time in his distant childhood, Loki was frightened by Odin's story that any Ace who tried to use the power of the Casket of Winters would inevitably die or suffer greatly, since the ice magic of the Jotun artifact was incompatible with the power of the Gods, whose essence is flame and light. Having grown up, he simply no longer became interested in the "useless trophy of his father", which no one would let him study or take out of the treasury anyway. The cunning move of the Allfather was now perfectly clear to me, but some fear of unknown magic remained, preventing me from casually reaching out and touching the blue surface.
The power bound by the shell was frightening. It was alien to everything that Loki knew and could do in magic. The Eternal Flame of Surtur, located in another part of the treasury, was much more familiar and understandable, although it did not seem to pose any more real danger to any divine races, because it could not be extinguished by any force, and only the most powerful creatures were able to subdue its power with their will, all the rest it would simply devour, regardless of any walls, armor and flesh, as soon as it was allowed to escape from the boundaries of the enchanted brazier.
However, I wasn't going to just stand there and watch the light shimmer beyond the blue edges. I didn't come here to chicken out at the last moment, especially knowing that I could use the legacy of Jotunheim.
"Whatever happens to my appearance, don't be afraid," I warn Laura, extending my left hand to the Casket.
And… I carefully touch it with my finger. With one. A cautious and weightless thought, together with my own strength, slides forward, intending to feel and know the essence of the artifact. A momentary numbness and a flash of wild cold, contrary to normal instincts, make my hand twitch further, completely laying on the surface of the Casket, but before the burning frost has time to lick my palm, it is replaced by a pleasant warmth, rising higher and higher up my hand. The exposed skin quickly turns blue along with the spread of this sensation, and simultaneously with the new color, spiral patterns of the Ice Giants appear on it. The creation of the Jotuns has recognized me as "its own"…
The Casket of Ancient Winters did not have the neurointerface of the Asgardian technomagical artifacts that I was accustomed to, but it had an analogue built on pure magic. It was cruder, not to say more primitive, but, if I may say so, it relied more on instincts... no... physiology... not quite either... Rather, it was something like an intuitive set of reflex reactions that suddenly appeared in me. A very strange feeling. Strange, but pleasant. In addition, the neurointerface remained a neurointerface, albeit embodied on a different logical basis, and through it I could fully understand and comprehend the functionality of the artifact. Which is what I did, and... I had a hard time holding back my laughter. No, the Casket could certainly be used as a weapon, in this regard it was even more dangerous than Gungnir, since it could cover many times larger areas with one blow and literally change the climate of entire continents and planets, albeit not instantly. It could be used as a means of weather control - it was easy to send or hide a storm and the worst storm in it. But all this paled in comparison to its main function.
It was a textbook.
No, that was not it, it was the quintessence, the very essence of Ice Magic. The Casket did not hammer into the head the strict formulas of the Runic Ligation that the Aesir used to make weapons, nor did it contain any sinister knowledge or rituals. No. It simply gave Awareness, an understanding of the very essence, and the "reflex" neurointerface allowed me to literally absorb, to master the techniques of Jotun magic as if I had not only practiced the creation of the Ice Spear or Frost Armor, but had actually devoted my entire life to continuous improvement in this direction, having comprehended it in such deep nuances and details that not every recognized master can boast of. An amazing and strange feeling, which explained well why Odin had put so much effort into taking this true Treasure from Laufey. Perhaps the artifact had limitations, there definitely had to be, like a certain level of the user's powers or their blood, or maybe a time limit between uses, but even so, it was just... oh, I was at a loss for words.
I probably would have stood there hugging this miracle for a week, penetrating ever deeper into the essence of ice magic and comprehending the techniques for creating these spells, so unlike anything I had ever owned before... if it weren't for Gungnir's displeasure, reflected in my head, and something like an electric shock that passed through my right hand from the spear. The Regalia of the Aesir Kings didn't like my admiration for someone else's royal regalia, and even though the obstinate weapon wasn't going to rebel, recognizing me as its master, it didn't stop it from expressing its "fie" towards "some" jotuns and their "dull blue bricks". But yes, perhaps now really is not the time or place - I can study the Casket in more detail later, but for now...
"How do I look?" I asked the girl.
- ... - they looked up at my face, blinked thoughtfully a couple of times, and then shrugged their shoulders, like, who cares? You boys all look the same.
"Is the skin blue?" I demanded more precise definitions.
– … – nod.
- Are your eyes red?
- ... - nod again.
– Are there patterns on your face?
- ... - another one.
"Are you going to remain silent?" I couldn't help but ask.
– (>_>)… – the girl became completely immersed in the shining wall, behind which the guardian of the treasury was hiding, although she, however, could not know about it.
"Okay," I send the Casket of Winters into my own subspace pocket and listen to my feelings for a second, but no — the creation of Jotunheim turned out to be much less picky than Gungnir, and did not protest, although I continued to feel the connection with it. "Let's go back — I did everything I wanted," I call the girl... And I also begin to feel how with the disappearance of the Casket from my hands, goosebumps ran across my body, and along with them my appearance quickly returned to normal.
The next morning. Earth. Puente Antiguo.
I had been watching Thor for ten minutes. Thor, who was preparing breakfast. For those who know Thor, the picture is psychedelic. I mean, he was capable of skinning a boar on a hunt and putting it on a spit over a fire, but even that he did only a couple of times in my memory, and usually Volstagg was the cook in the squad, as the most interested, and therefore, responsible "person" in this matter. But no, the God of Thunder in exile was calmly cooking an omelet on an electric earth stove and was clearly waiting for a group of climatologists, or whoever they were, to come to the table.
– Don't forget to add salt.
- Yes, exactly. Thank you, Loki... - the big guy answered reflexively. - Loki? - Oh, what big eyes! - Loki, brother! - They tried to grab me in a wide embrace, but rushed through the illusion, almost knocking over the dining table.
- If you're trying to strangle me, then make your face simpler...
- Me? What? No! - the former Thunderer was somewhat indignant, but still stopped trying to kiss the phantom.
- And yes, I am also glad to see you... When did you learn to use the stove? - I still couldn't resist voicing the question itching inside.
- It's not difficult at all! - the blond perked up, returning to his previous place. - You change the temperature with this thing, and stir it with this one, - he pointed to the stove handle and then to the spatula, - you can't use a knife, - the Thunderer continued to enlighten me in a businesslike manner, - you can scratch the coating. The dishes in Midgard are very fragile! And the recipes are written in this book! - they showed me something like a brochure with the caption: "How to make a simple and filling breakfast?"
"By the way, turn it off, otherwise it'll burn," I advised, trying not to show on my face how the back of my skull was itching.
- Oh! Yes, of course, - the big guy hastened to follow the advice, at the same time moving the frying pan to the next burner.
But after this action he hesitated, and silence fell in the kitchen. A rather uncomfortable silence, at least for one ace with a short blond beard.
"I... You..." Thor tried to say something, his eyes sliding to my face... and fell silent.
"You are as eloquent as always," I sighed. "Well, tell me."
- What? - He didn't understand.
"I already know roughly how you got to this point in your life," I put on a face that was supposed to express sympathy, but I could be honest with myself – it didn't work out very well. "How are you doing here?"
"It's strange, unusual," the man sighed with his mighty chest, lowering his blue eyes to the floor. "If it weren't for Lady Jane, I think it would have been much harder."
- Lady Jane? - I pretended not to know what he was talking about.
- The mortal who helped me. I am deeply indebted to her.
- You are somehow suspiciously good-natured for someone who had a huge falling out with his beloved father and was deprived of strength...
- I... - Thor clearly became embarrassed, which continued to break my pattern. I mean, I recalled that in the movies he often portrayed some kind of awkwardly shy village simpleton, but the memory of the original Loki remembered him only as a stubborn, narcissistic ram. A very positive one, and even captivating with his charisma, but still a narcissistic ram, who could not be embarrassed even by the biggest screw-ups in his life. - I got hit on the head a few times, - the man finally said with a sigh of recognition of the bitter, but important reality of a person.
"Is this…" I make an indistinct gesture in the air with my brush, "something good?"
"I've been Mighty Thor all my life," Odin's son walked up to the nearest chair and sat down heavily, resting his elbows on his knees, "and in Midgard, first I was hit by a car, then I was stunned by a stun gun… It's a thing that shoots little lightning bolts at copper threads. Then I was tied up by the healers' assistants in the local house of healers, then I was hit by a car again, and when I went to return Mjolnir… Well, I threw everyone around there, but… The hammer refused to come with me," the Asgardian finished listing his adventures with tired bitterness. "And now I… I don't know."
- Are you saying that you've experienced what it's like to be weak, and now you're rethinking whether you were so good all your past life?
"Yes…" Thor responded, as if he had just realized it, raising his surprised and brightened gaze to me. "That's right!"
"Charming," I shake my head, wondering how such a mass increase in the intelligence of the sons might inadvertently finish off Odin. Too many shocking impressions are dangerous for an old, worn-out organism.
Thor didn't have time to ask what exactly I find charming, but he definitely wanted to. I can tell from his slightly puzzled face that he did! Why didn't he have time? Well, the climatologists, or whoever they are, if you call them correctly, started coming down for breakfast. But what difference does it make?
- Wow... - the first to appear was a short girl with glasses and dark brown hair. She appeared, saw me in Asgardian clothes, albeit without armor elements, and immediately lost her step. - Je-ein! - she called to the side, raising her voice, without taking her eyes off me. - Is there... Another one? - the earthling finished her thought with a clearly questioning intonation, even guiltily pulling her head into her shoulders, still not breaking eye contact with me.
"Who's the 'other one'?" the second lady appeared on the stairs, looking questioningly at her friend, but almost immediately turned her gaze to Thor and me. "Oh…"
"What's up with you…" the third voice, this time belonging to a man, began, but it stopped before the previous ones.
The speaker was a man who was approaching old age, but had not yet reached it, although his hair was already actively trying to leave his head alone. As for the girls, oddly enough for the Marvel Cinematic Universe, they turned out to be quite pretty. Both were far from Storm, but compared to the general level around them, they were very, very good, at least it was quite clear why Thor, who had been chased by Sif for several centuries, showed attention to this mortal. If the respected Lord Vader could not resist in his time, then what can we say about some Asgardian god? Yes, yes, the second girl, she is obviously "Lady Jane", in appearance was the spitting image of Natalie Portman. No longer as young and charming as in the roles of Matilda from the film Leon or Padme Amidala from the first episode of Star Wars, but still quite retaining her albeit somewhat faded beauty. Or maybe it's the greedy master of illusions in me talking.
"My friends," my brother bowed slightly, a small thing, but considering that we were talking about the Thunderer, even knowing all the ins and outs, I almost dropped my jaw in shame.
- Thor?.. Who is this? - "Padme" awkwardly pointed her finger at me, looking hopefully at the big guy. Funny, it seemed she still couldn't fully believe my brother's story, which is why my clothes caused a much greater stupor than they could have. However, what else could you expect? After all, the exile had no divine powers left, as well as no artifacts, and his behavior and story were more evidence of some kind of mental disorder than of otherworldly origin. And yet she did not refuse to shelter him... Women are truly strange creatures.
"Allow me to introduce my brother Loki," the Thunderer, forgetting himself, tried to clap me on the shoulder, which caused a momentary disruption of the phantom's stability and even greater amazement on the mortals' faces.
- Loki? - the girl in glasses blinked rapidly. - Isn't that the guy who's always plotting against you?
"So-so," I turn to Thor, "what did you manage to tell me about me again?"
"Nothing!" the blond raised his hands in a sincere defensive gesture.
- What did he tell me about me again? - I turn to the people demandingly, consumed by the most unpleasant premonitions that have suddenly stirred up. - I hope that at least this time I managed without turning into a mare and giving birth to foals?
- Into a mare? - Padme blinked in confusion now.
- Every time he appears in Midgard, he starts some idiotic rumor about me, which your chroniclers then spread in all their books for several centuries. What happened this time?
"Nothing! Nothing at all," the girl shook her head. "Only that you…" "Padme" hesitated, obviously not knowing how to find the right words, and casting cries of help at Thor.
- Brother, I really didn't tell you anything this time! - he stepped forward, taking the blow. - Let's not remember this...
- No, we will remember this! - I snapped. - I need to know what legend I owe you once again!
"You don't look very similar…" the glasses wearer noted. "I mean the hair!" she quickly corrected herself, catching our glances.
"We're step-siblings," I shrug, preparing to return to the topic.
- Loki, you're wrong! - the Thunderer immediately lit up, and I instantly understood what was about to begin... Hundreds of pictures appeared before my eyes, how Thor got into a rage and began to deliver his pompous speeches, brushing aside any logic and common sense, but full of emotion, expression and complete disregard for the interlocutor. My teeth even started to hurt...
- I'm always right! - I raise my hand, stopping the words ready to burst from the lips of the son of Odin. This must be stopped at any cost. Nip it in the bud, otherwise I will really send the Destroyer here. - Okay, let's leave it, - the big guy began to open his mouth again, forcing me to make another similar gesture to prevent the second remark. - Let's leave it! Both topics.
"…Okay," the blond exhaled, clearly overcoming himself.
- Let's continue our acquaintance, - I turn to the scientists. - Padme... - I pretend to bow to the obvious leader, - support group, - the rest of the scientists got it too.
"My name is Jane Foster," she introduced herself, frowning slightly. "Have you come for Thor?"
"No," I shake my head, "he can't be at home yet, but I'm working on it!"
- Really? Thank you, brother! - this simple-minded big guy was genuinely happy.
- You're welcome for now. So? - I raise an eyebrow, looking expectantly at the two people who haven't introduced themselves.
"Are you… really Loki?" the second girl, Jane's friend, plucked up the courage to ask. "Oh, yes, I'm Darcy Lewis," she realized.
"Erik Selvig," the man introduced himself.
- Nice to meet you, - decency first. - And to answer your question, yes - I am indeed that same Loki, God of Magic, Intrigue and what is called trolling on the modern Internet. Have you heard of Tony Stark? That's more or less what I'm responsible for.
- Ah-ha... - Jane gathered her eyes together, looking under her brow ridges. - Ah... - and hesitated, although it was clear what she wanted to ask. After all, Thor couldn't demonstrate anything, and mortals wanted to see miracles.
I silently create a couple more illusions next to the phantom.
"Wow," Darcy marveled again.
- Yes, - I agree with a triple half-smile, enjoying the people's faces and their slightly open mouths. - But, actually, why did I come? Yes, sit down - there's no need to react so violently, - dispelling unnecessary phantoms, I point to the table.
"We need to find another plate," Darcy quietly informed her boss, with some hint.
"Not worth it," I shake my head. "It's not that I'm against participating in such an epochal event as tasting the food cooked by the Thunderer himself, and not just personally, but on a modern kitchen stove, but alas, I'm on another planet now, and this is just an illusion."
– Do you cook so rarely?
"Are you really on another planet?" Darcy and Jane asked at the same time.
"You won't believe it, but I'm just as shocked as you are," I tell the lady in glasses confidentially and switch to Foster: "Yes, Padmé, I'm on another planet."
- Loki! - Thor was indignant, but I pretended to suffer from selective deafness. Or rather, to enjoy it.
- Why are you calling me so strangely? What does this word mean? - the scientist narrowed her eyes with a split second difference.
"I can't believe it," Selvik muttered much more quietly under his breath.
"Me too," of course, I chose the latter's line to answer. "There's something clearly wrong with this universe – you just get out of the house to think about the eternal, to sort yourself out, to prevent a couple of planetary apocalypses… And then some kind of wildness starts, and from where you least expect it," I reward Thor with an extremely expressive look.
"And… apocalypses?" Darcy asked.
- Speaking of which! - I perked up and created an illusion of a map of the immediate surroundings between us. - There's an abandoned mobile home somewhere around here, - I point to the spot where I'd left the car, - there's some cash in the glove compartment, about five thousand, and the fridge is full of food, but the battery's about to die. Could you pick it up? There are a few souvenirs in there - it would be a shame if they stole it.
- Uh-uh...
"Brother…" Thor began, but I interrupted him, simultaneously casting a distracting illusion and suggestion on the people so that they would think that they had been convinced to sit at the table.
- Let me explain something before you say anything. First, yes, I was in Midgard when you tried to buy a kitten to ride... - Thor's face reflected genuine horror, not likely because he realized what kind of nonsense he was doing, but rather because he realized how I could start making fun of him about this. - And don't make such a face - I was much more ashamed at that moment than you are now! - I was indignant. - Secondly, you are now deprived of your powers, which means you need human food, clothing and shelter. And thirdly, being a healthy man, sitting on the neck of a fragile woman is unworthy of you, brother.
"What are you…" he looked around frantically, but seeing that the mortals were already sitting down at the table, he relaxed a little, stuck in the haze, "do you mean?"
- These clothes you are wearing, this food you cooked. It didn't just come out of nowhere, did it? You are used to getting everything you need as a prince of Asgard, never thinking about where these or those goods come from. It is unlikely that you were able to earn or otherwise get the money to buy these things and products, so they were bought for you. Judging by the look of it, your lady Jane is not a rich person, and such expenses could be significant for her.
"But… she… she didn't say anything like that," the big guy answered, dumbfounded.
- And he won't, because it's called "politeness", although I don't understand why it helps you at all... Although... maybe I do understand, - I smiled. - You've always been popular with women, - unlike the reaction I expected, Thor did not furiously deny or grin insolently, he looked at me as if I was now revealing to him the secrets of the universe, existence and all that other stuff.
– …
- In general, for you and me these are pieces of paper and trifles, but for a common man it is a serious problem, but those five thousand should be enough for you for a couple of months. So stop playing the proud man and accept help when it is offered to you, - I finished my speech, and... oh miracle, Thor really thought about it.
I'll have to somehow thank those who gave him the beating. It seems that these heroes were able to do what even Odin couldn't do in a thousand years and more - they made the Thunderer really think and evaluate the consequences of actions and the motives of those around him. Yes, they definitely deserve a bonus. I'll have to do some magic with their salary cards or other bank accounts, since the Earth's digital payment system opened up a wide scope for any machinations with the numbers in those accounts, not only for the owner of the Asgard technomagical base, but for anyone who was old enough to fly interstellar flights. Which, by the way, I shamelessly used literally from my first days in New York, but shh! It's a big secret, especially for the staff of one private boarding school.
"Thank you, brother," Odin's son nodded seriously, interrupting his thoughts.
"Come on, sit down at the table, and I'll cancel the spell," I nod at the empty chair where Thor's illusion was located.
"Ah… yes," the big guy sat down, grabbing the cutlery, and the people were "online" again.
"Please pass me the salt," Darcy asked him immediately, actively working her jaws. Damn, I won't be able to resist, and why not?
- Well... - I said meaningfully, drawing attention to myself. - My dear brother screwed up, ran away to Earth, managed to beat up the local authorities' squad here and is already sitting at the dining table surrounded by two pretty women and one Scandinavian drunkard... nothing changes! At least you didn't break the dishes in the nearest tavern, I hope?
- Ahem-cough-cough! - a surprisingly friendly coughing fit overwhelmed all the participants of the feast.
- I see, - I finish off the team. - Okay, I came to check on you, gave you a present, - I pretend to think, - that seems to be all. Oh yeah, I almost forgot, you have two freaks from SHIELD sitting on the neighboring roof, they are watching and observing something. I averted their eyes, but it is better not to blab too much about my visit. Well, I'm going, don't be bored! - and I canceled the illusion under the gaze of four pairs of eyes full of feelings and emotions...
A couple of days later, Asgard.
The cylindrical device on the test stand sucked the neutronium core into the active zone, and I held my breath. A second, two... A short pulse came from inside the reactor, perceptible even to magical perception, and white light began to seep through the transparent elements of the casing, growing stronger with each stroke of Tony Stark's invention. I had succeeded!
I was able to reproduce the arc reactor on the elementary base of Asgard quite quickly, but palladium as a core was not suitable for me, so I took up experiments and modification. Knowing all the ins and outs from Stark's memory and a lot more from my own head, and using the atomic forge, it took a little more than a day, and, as I assumed, the reactor architecture could be redesigned for Uru metal and neutronium. And right now I felt that neutronium gives much better results - the flow of Living Light energy enveloped the test stand in a thick haze, which was felt even through the protective force fields. Of course, Gungnir was largely to blame here, having increased my sensitivity to magic and perception of the world around me several times, but the result was still magnificent. Exactly what I needed.
Having spent a couple more hours on all possible tests several times and finally convinced that the reactor had stably entered the mode and would definitely not explode, as well as not emitting any harmful radiation outside the shielded casing, I printed a suitable stand on the Asgardian analogue of a 3D printer and, having picked up the result, quickly left the workshop.
Ten minutes of quick walking brought me to the residential part of the palace, and a few more minutes later I was already at Odin's chambers.
"Mom," having entered the room and finding the woman at her usual post at the head of the bed, I curbed my impulsiveness and respectfully moved to a slow pace, without making loud sounds.
"Loki, is something wrong?" Frigga looked up at me with concern, and I vaguely sensed that she was interrupting some kind of magical action. Communication with someone through an illusion, probably.
"Yes, I'm almost ready to solve the problem with Jotunheim," I walk over to Odin's bed and, putting Gungnir aside, unfold the telescopic legs of the holder, "but I couldn't get started until I did something…" The reactor stand was opened and took its place above the Allfather's chest, after which the reactor was carefully installed in its center.
"What is this?" Asinya frowned in confusion, clearly already having felt the energy of the Living Light.
- This is my friend's invention, which I slightly improved, - I answer automatically, concentrating most of my consciousness on correctly directing the energy coming out of the "portal" and fixing this state, fortunately I was not too lazy to turn the reactor body into a suitable artifact. Very primitive, but quite sufficient for this task. - I think you already understood what it gives. I am not sure that this will speed up father's exit from the Dream, but it will have a positive effect on his health.
"This is incredible," the Queen stood up, tremblingly raising her palm to the shining reactor. "Living Light…" she whispered, as if convinced. "What great magician created such a miracle?"
- You won't believe it, he didn't even suspect the existence of the Living Light when he created this, - I smile at the woman, having finished my work. - He's just a brilliant idiot - I have no other words. By the way, - I change my tone to a more serious one, - I promised to give him a spaceship, but I haven't had time yet. If I suddenly don't return from Jotunheim, I wrote down the address and other instructions in the Throne. But please, something not very advanced, otherwise he will definitely make a weapon out of it, and he already invents too many dangerous weapons.
- Son, what are you thinking? - Asinya straightened up, immediately forgetting about both the reactor and its author.
"Solve the problem of Jotunheim radically, but gracefully," I take Gungnir, frozen as I had let it go, in my hand. "Don't worry, the plan is reliable, I'll just have to pretend to be a bit of a dumb hero-avenger."
"Loki, what are you planning?" Asinya frowned, naturally starting to worry even more after my words.
"Just one of my 'jokes,'" I admitted, "nothing serious or dangerous."
"When something is not serious or dangerous, you don't say 'my will is in the Throne, watch if I don't return'," Frigga didn't give in.
"It's just a precaution, just in case," I smiled softly, trying to get off the uncomfortable topic, "the kind of thing that Odin lacks, which is why we have our current situation."
- Loki... don't try to talk me into it, that trick won't work on me. What. Are. You. Up to?
- Okay, - I sigh, - I'll chat with Laufey a little in my favorite style, and when he reaches the state of a hungover Volstagg and does something stupid, maybe even several times, I'll get my benefit. Anyway, I'll be back for dinner, don't be bored! - but, having thought for a bit and casting off the guise of a joker, I continued in a serious tone. - This is the simplest, fastest, most reliable and bloodless solution to the problem. The alternative is a war of extermination, which I would really not like to allow. So wish me luck and wait for my return.
"You've grown up so much," Frigga smiled sadly.
- Well, there must be at least one responsible adult man in this family, - I looked reproachfully towards Odin. I know he can see and hear us now, so let him feel ashamed. Unlikely, but what if?
"Take care of yourself, son," they hugged me, and now I felt awkward and ashamed.
- Of course, Mom, - I hugged the asinya back, then took a step back. A turn, and... my path lay to the treasury. Once you've decided to do something, you need to do it right away, and not drag it out by... circumstances.
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