#froststrange

Tony cocked his eyebrow. “I never thought I would see the day you admit that Raven Boy is better than you in something magic related.”

“Loki is over a thousand years old. And Vanaheim and Asgard were rather close. Chances are high he has seen this exact artifact before,” the sorcerer said as a matter-of-fact.

It was a valid argument, Tony had to concede. “Okay, then call him. Or send a raven. Speak into your crystal ba-”

Stephen opened a portal right into Thor and Loki’s kitchen. The younger prince sat at the table, casually eating cornflakes – specifically, Frosted Flakes – while clad in comfortable lounge wear. Right, it was about morning in Norway.

Loki looked up from his bowl, his expression shifting to one of mild annoyance. “Strange,” he remarked, his tone dripping with skepticism. He was clearly not pleased about the unexpected interruption. “What do you want?”

Even though his voice was far from being nice, he didn’t outright throw a nasty hex at Stephen for invading his privacy. The sorcerer took that as a positive sign. Things were progressing between them. “I’ve got something you might want to take a look at,” he explained the call.

“A book?” Loki tilted his head, a flicker of interest crossing his features for just a moment.

“It’s Avengers related.”

The Asgardian sighed dramatically, clearly unimpressed. So, not a book. “As you clearly see, I am having breakfast. I will come over afterwards.”

Stephen nodded. Fair enough. “We are on the thirty-seventh floor of the tower,” he informed Loki before he closed the portal. Then he turned back to Tony, who had been observing the exchange with a bemused expression. “Don’t be surprised if he makes you wait, just because he can.”

“The only thing that I’m surprised about is how well you handle the Charming Disaster,” Tony quipped, a smirk playing on his lips as he leaned back against a table, arms crossed.

As he spoke, the door of the elevator opened, and Friday chimed in with a warning tone. “Boss…”

But before she could finish her sentence, Loki was already strolling in. In the mere eight seconds since Stephen had closed the portal, Loki had managed to change into attire that was decidedly less pajama-like and far more presentable.

“I don’t need to be handled,” the Asgardian announced pointedly, his voice firm and self-assured. It was clear he had caught the tail end of their conversation. He must have had the fastest breakfast in history. “And I don’t understand your ways to select nicknames, Titanium-Gold Alloy Man.”

Tony squinted at him. “You see, when you say something like that, it’s difficult to believe you.”

Stephen noticed the slightest of smirks on Loki’s lips. The Asgardian had a special sense of humor. The sorcerer slowly started to understand and appreciate it; it was another layer of complexity that made Loki all the more intriguing.

He cleared his throat and gestured to the artifact. Loki turned his attention to the mirror—and immediately forgot all jesting. The way his focus zoomed in on it and his face hardened, he knew what it was. “Where did you get that?” he asked, his voice laced with an urgency that betrayed his calm facade.

“Every now and then the people with questionable morals that we meet on a daily basis have rather interesting collections,” Tony explained easily.

Stephen snorted, unable to resist the urge to interject. “If every person with ‘questionable morals’ qualifies as a villain, we’d have a lot more work to do. Especially if we count business people in,” he added, raising an eyebrow at Tony, who merely shrugged in response. He was not wrong.

Loki, however, had tuned out their conversation and stepped closer to the item on the table. He brushed his finger over the silver handle almost with a wistful sorrow. His expression shifted, deep in thought, and for a moment, he seemed to be lost in the past.

Then, as if pulled back to reality by an unseen force, he closed his fingers around the handle and picked it up with a sense of reverence.

“This is the Glimmering Shard of Veyrith,” he said absently, before he remembered where he was and turned to the other two men, his demeanor shifting from contemplative to resolute. “It used to be in royal Asgardian possession. I will take it from here.”

“Now hold your horses, Mama Sleipnir,” Tony immediately protested. “You can’t just take a potentially harmful object with you.”

Loki’s eyes darkened and he straightened his shoulders unconsciously. “I can and I will. It belongs with me.”

“What does it even do?” Tony inquired.

Loki was reluctant to answer, his posture defensive. It made Stephen step in before the situation escalated further. “Loki, you have to admit that Stark has a point. You have to give us something,” his voice was calm but firm. He didn’t want to fight the prince about this, but he would if necessary.

Reluctantly, Loki gave in, though his expression remained guarded. “It shows memories. Past and potential futures,” he explained curtly. He spoke like he didn’t want to share anything of this mirror, not even information. “The last time I saw it, it was around the convergence.”

Tony didn’t know what the Asgardian was talking about, but Stephen had heard about the convergence, even though that was before his path had led him to Kamar-Taj. During the convergence, the dark elves had attacked London due to a fierce conflict with Asgard. It was around the same time they had lost their queen – and suddenly, Stephen realized the connection.

The hand mirror was an artifact from Vanaheim in royal Asgardian possession. It must have been Frigga’s. The revelation struck him like a bolt of lightning; it explained Loki’s emotional attachment to it.

The sorcerer relaxed. He would not fight the prince about it.

Meanwhile, Tony had more questions. “Future memories? How does that even work?”

“Magic,” Stephen and Loki said in unison.

The engineer groaned with exasperation, throwing his hands up in mock surrender. “Great. Now I have two of you cryptic magic people around. Just what I needed.”

Loki glanced at Stephen, a hint of amusement flickering in his eyes before he turned his head back to Tony. “I could explain it to you, but you hardly ever listen when it’s about magic,” he remarked, a teasing lilt to his voice.

“No wonder with how little aptitude for the arcane arts he has,” Stephen added, his tone dry.

“You noticed that too? I have rarely met anyone with such a low talent for magic…”

“Of course,” the sorcerer replied wryly. “It’s hard not to notice.”

“Hey, I’m right here,” Tony protested, his voice rising in indignation as both of the mages rolled their eyes at him. The nerve of them! “But seriously. How?”

“I would guess it's some kind of probability calculation,” Stephen said. “Whichever future is most likely to occur. I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s infused with time-stone power.”

Loki tilted his head, as if he was considering this possibility for the first time, intrigued by the implications. “That might be possible. Some of the mirror’s future memories are more accurate than other times. It rarely shows something interesting from the future, though.”

So he had clearly used it before. It confirmed Stephen's theory..

“That’s all very interesting, but you still can’t take it,” Tony insisted, his tone firm as he crossed his arms over his chest.

The prince looked like he was three seconds away from bolting, making a portal and simply disappearing with the mirror in hand. Sensing the rising tension, Stephen decided to step in and mediate. “Since Loki is familiar with the artifact–“

“The Glimmering Shard of Veyrith,” Loki corrected him, his tone almost possessive, and Stephen shot him a look. He was helping the Asgardian here, so Loki better keep his comments to himself and shut up.

“… and since it’s not malicious, it will be safe to remain with him for the time being. Yet, the data Stark’s scans are able to provide will be valuable insight for future missions. We will do that first. You can wait another hour to take the Glimmering Shard of Veyrith home, Loki,” Stephen concluded, his voice steady and authoritative.

“Two hours,” Tony chimed in.

“One and a half,” Loki countered, his eyes narrowing slightly as he weighed his options.

“Deal.” Tony held out his hand expectantly, a triumphant grin spreading across his face. Loki hesitated, the internal struggle evident in his features, but ultimately realized that it would be easier to cooperate for the time being. Reluctantly, he handed the mirror to the engineer.

With the artifact now in Tony's possession, he turned to walk toward one of the many labs in the tower, his mind already racing with ideas for how to analyze the artifact’s abilities.

Loki followed him to keep an eye on the artifact. Stephen followed them to keep an eye on Loki and Stark, walking next to the Asgardian.

“I knew her,” he said unprompted.

Loki glanced at him. “Who?”

“Queen Frigga. She was a remarkable woman. Gentle, yet with a fierceness.”

Loki stared at him, his expression faltering for a moment, blindsided by this unexpected revelation. “You can’t,” he finally managed to say, disbelief etched across his features. “She died before you…”

The Queen of Asgard had passed away years before Stephen became the Sorcerer Supreme; in fact, it was long before he even knew of the Mystic Arts. Yet, Stephen smiled wryly, as if the answer was as obvious as the sun rising in the east. “Time is not straight-lined,” he said, his hand wandering to the Eye of Agamotto resting on his chest.

Loki’s eyes followed the movement, widening in understanding. When wielding an Infinity Stone, the normal rules didn’t apply. The implications of this realization began to dawn on him, and something shifted in the prince’s face – a glimmer of hope emerged, flickering like a candle in the dark. If Stephen had met Frigga in a past time, then there was a chance – albeit a slim one – that Loki could see his mother again.

He didn’t ask. Not yet.

But Stephen knew that the thought would simmer in the Asgardian’s mind, turning over and over as he inspected it from all sides, weighing the risks and rewards. And one day, Stephen was certain, Loki would approach him and ask this favor of him.