PERSEUS MEANS DESTROYER

Sun

Over and over many setting suns, I have run,

I have waited for the rain to come. When through that mist I see the shape of you.

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He grabbed a few pancakes—three or four—and put them on a separate plate next the bottle of maple syrup he'd found while he was hunting through the pantry and fridge for blue food dye (comfort food needs as comforts food must), and dropped an upside-down bowl on the remaining stack to put back in the fridge.

Loki was still tied up on the couch when Percy walked in, and he nearly dropped his dinner on the floor when the disgruntled god muttered a greeting.

Someone had turned the lounge lights off, leaving Loki in the dark—presumably until the next morning.

"Jeez, Rudolph. I nearly dropped my pancakes."

Loki hissed his dislike at the nickname. "Is my actual name too much trouble to say? Or are you scared something might happen?"

Percy laughed, "no, Loki, I'm not 'scared of what might happen'. I just find it funny to call you Rudolph instead. You were wearing a ridiculous pair of horns when we first met."

Loki grimaced, leaning away from Percy, when the demigod sat down on the couch. "It was a helmet."

Percy snickered again. "Sure thing. So, by the by... what's stopping you from magicking off those ropes and just... leaving?"

"Odin put a seal on the cuffs."

"Like a wax seal? Or the animal seal?"

"A magic seal, you absolute—"

"You mean the symbols on the metal?"

Loki clenched his jaw. "Yes."

"Okay, no need to get testy."

He closed his eyes and leant back into the couch, hoping that if he ignored Perseus hard enough, the demigod would catch on and leave.

Perseus was silent for a few blessed minutes. "If... If I took them off, hypothetically," he sounded out every syllable of the word, like he wasn't quite sure how to say it, "the sealed cuffs, what would you do?"

Loki took a few minutes to process that.

"I have to admit, I'd probably call you an idiot. Then... I would leave."

Perseus nodded along, as though Loko were sharing the details of the latest Asgardian scandal, rather than coming up with a half formed plan to 'escape' of the demigod was stupid enough to follow through on his 'hypothetical situation'.

"And go crawling back to whoever you owe your loyalties to?"

He wasn't sure if Perseus was intentionally mocking him to get a rise, or if he was just idiotic enough to insist a god to their face.

Loki was aware that it might well have been the first scenario, but he was pissed off at the idea that he would go crawling back to anyone.

"I do not 'owe my loyalties' to anyone but myself, you insolent, insignificant little bug."

"Dude! Chill out."

And if you want to see 'insignificant' you're in the wrong fucking place.

Loki snarled, settling back into the couch cushions. "If you would excuse vulgar language, kindly 'fuck off' as you... mortals say."

He practically spat the word 'mortals' like it left a bad taste in his mouth.

Perseus finally took the hint and left.

Something about him irked Loki to no end, but...

Something told him the demigod was dangerous, and told him that Perseus was someone to be cautious with.

Power respects power.

Words he had heard too many times to count, from the lips of his friends, his enemies and his family.

And words that he was were near universal.

What exactly about this child was so dangerous? And why was it him who had been sent by the Greeks? Because sure, Greek demigods never really lived long, but surely there were more senior demigods to serve in his place.

And with one of those mobility aids as well.

He knew well of the tales of Perseus's exploits—Poseidon was not a humble god, and the Aesir loved spreading stories of brave and unvanquished heroes far and wide—but he had figured they were blown out of proportion (surely he hadn't slain the Minotaur and one of the Furies before arriving at the Greek safe haven? And surely a twelve year old couldn't harm an ancient incarnation of war, or trick a death god into relinquishing one of his conquests?).

The days passed in a repetitive blur, and suddenly Percy had been staying at the Avengers' Tower off and on for nearly a month, heading home every four or five days to spend the night at his apartment with his mom, to pick up new clothes and talk to his family. Sally was due to give birth to Estelle any day at this point, and Percy had introduced the inhabitants of the Tower to Annabeth (who had needed to be reassured that yes, these were the Avengers, and that was the Doctor Bruce Banner sitting on the couch, whom she then proceeded to grill on every topic she could think of).

Barely anything of note had happened in that month, beyond the shaky patch up between Percy, Tony and Natasha, the time when Percy flooded the bathroom and had to come up with some ridiculous excuse that Tony might buy (and now he was pretty sure Tony thought he had made it happen on purpose. He hadn't), and the slowing blossoming friendship between Steve and Percy, mostly consisting of friendly ribbing and teasing.

He had had a couple more memorable conversations with Loki, but most of the time they sat together in silence when Percy had nothing else he could think of to do. Loko was still frosty towards the demigod, but not openly hostile, and seemed willing to put up with his presence.

Sometime in the last two weeks, he had managed to copy down the runes on Loki's cuffs onto a piece of scrap paper, alongside the spell Loki had said might have been cast on it. Loki had seemed annoyed when he had pushed for the spelling of the incantation, but gave it up after Percy bugged him for it for three days.

Percy had given the paper to Annabeth, so she could give it to the Hephaestus and Hecate kids at camp, and ask them to see if they could recreate the enchantments. Annabeth had come back with news that 'we might be able to, but we'll need to look into Norse magic first, so it could be a few weeks'.

The routine for each day was pretty standard; Natasha was awake by five thirty at latest, and in the gym until eight or nine each morning. Steve usually passed through the kitchen around six or six thirty, sometimes catching Natasha on her way out. He'd then follow her to the gym, and sometimes Percy tagged along to watch.

Bruce and Tony were not what Percy would call morning people. They usually got up somewhere between seven and nine, staggering around the tower until they managed to get their hands on a cup of coffee.

Clint was the wild card in all that—sometimes he slept until eleven, sometimes he stayed up all night and slept during the day, and sometimes he was at the same time Percy was—eating breakfast at three or four in the morning had become a bit of an unhealthy habit for Percy, but at least sometimes he had company.

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First published ::: 23.08.22
First edit ::: n/a
Wordcount ::: 1196
Chapter dedication ::: n/a

<3

Yours,