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Summoning circles weren't an uncommon practice, but this one in particular looked odd. It was carved on the wooden floor, for one thing. To his understanding, summoning circles in midgard were usually drawn in blood. Symbols and patterns looked unusual, hectic even. Perhaps the would-be summoner did those in haste? No, that didn't make any sense. They were carved in the first place, and they were clear and steadily done. Perhaps they came from some sort of a fever dream?
Part of those carvings is an unusual incantation, and he can't help himself from letting his fingers trace it, and whisper those words.
Let silver and steel be the essence…
Let red and gold be the colours I pay tribute to…
My fate shall be your sword…
An oath shall be sworn here!
Come forth from the ring of restraints, oh Protector of the Holy Balance!
Light emerges from the circle, almost blinding. Had he closed his eyes, he would have missed the figure materializing in the middle of the summoning circle.
What have I unleashed?
It looks like a set of armour, one that moves by itself. Red and gold, like it was mentioned in the incantation. A soft blue light rests in the middle of its chest.
"Are you the one that summoned me?" it asks and, huh, that's most curious. A set of armour that walks and speaks on its own, with a voice distinctively male.
"What if I am?"
The armour steps out of the circle, and the helmet retracts by itself.
There was a man in there!
"In that case, I have a proposition for you. Fear me, love me, do as I say ... and I will be your slave ."
"And who are you to make such offer and demand?"
The armoured man grins. "I'm the one who will make your wildest wish come true."
“And what makes you think you know my wish?”
“I don’t.” the man replies with a shrug. “But everyone has a wish. We wouldn’t have this conversation if you didn’t.”
He must look confused to the stranger, because he just rubs his forehead and sighs before continuing. “Look, you recited an incantation, a unique one. What it does is pair you up with a Heroic Spirit. Tough luck for you, that’s me.”
“A ritual then.” he concludes, and the Spirit? nods. “What is the purpose of this ritual, then?”
“Six others have -or will, same thing, really- used this incantation. They’ll be also paired up with a Heroic Spirit each. The one pair left gets to have one wish granted.”
He nods. It’s a lot to take in, sure, but he’s smart. “One last thing, for now. What should I call you?”
The Spirit sighs and presses his right hand over the strange light on his chest, then takes a deep breath. “Caster. You may call me that.”
“That doesn’t sound like a name. Plus, you don’t look like a mage.”
“Like I said, tough luck. Besides, you don’t look like a mage either, Dumbledore. You don’t see me doubting your abilities.”
“That’s quite a naive thing to do.”
“I’m not assuming your strength. I can feel it. I guess you can say we’re connected. Before you ask how, check your hand. Left back side.” he supplies, and Loki obliges. A strange symbol has made its appearance, and he can feel its pulsing magic. It connects him and “Caster” like a thread.
“These are your Command Spells. You can use them to either give me a boost during combat, or force me to follow orders. You can say it’s affirmation of our roles; yours as a Master and mine, as your Servant . Now, my turn to ask questions. First of all, where, and most importantly, when are we?”
It’s Loki’s turn to sigh. “How can you not know these?”
“In case you need reminding, I’m not of this era. Did you think that I was summoned with prior knowledge of this time or planet?”
“Why wouldn’t you?” Loki questions, full of suspicion and curiosity.
“I don’t know, but feel free to search for whoever made the system, and give them your complaints.”
Loki rolls his eyes, but replies. “We’re in Greenwich, England, 1602. Satisfied?”
“Verily.” Caster replies, and this grin brings up a storm of anger in Loki. “Oh, and before I forget!” he turns, and stands in front of him, mischief evident in his eyes. (After all, he knows mischief well.)
And does something unthinkable.
He kisses him.
Granted, it’s not an actual kiss. It’s nothing more than a simple brush of the lips, yet he felt as if he was being insulted and assaulted at the same time.
Caster is really lucky is apparently a dead man already. He feels looked so looked down on when the other just grins and says “Thank you for the snack, Master~ ”
“Why did you do that?”
“Just wanted to make sure I’ll know your magical signature.” a shrug. “And a bit of a pick-me-up, if you will.”
“You stole my magic? Without permission? How dare you?”
“Relax, it wasn’t that much, and besides, you’ll have to supply me with magical energy. If you’re so averse to the idea, just withdraw.”
Tempting. Loki thinks. But the prize, the grand prize… A wish, all of his own. He could wish for his worth to be recognized, his opinions appreciated… Supplying one with magical energy wasn’t unheard of. After all, magical constructs worked only if they were receiving magic from somewhere.
“As long as we don’t have to do that again. Then it’s fine.” he finally gives in. “I don’t want to kiss you.”
“Then it won’t happen again.” he promises.
-//-
It takes one near defeat for Master to become Loki, and for Caster to become Antony.
-//-
And what would your wish be?
“I thought I wanted my family to recognise my value, finally being seen as an equal. To find a true home?”
Caster, no, Antony , holds his hand. “And now, what do you wish for?”
Loki doesn’t hesitate. “I wish to meet with you again.”
“What a coincidence.” he replies with a small smile. “That is my wish as well.”
Holding hands, Loki touches the wish-granting object. It surrounds them both in white light and, when it dies out, Antony isn’t there anymore.
Your wish shall be granted, Loki Liesmith.
-//-
If there’s one thing that Loki absolutely hates, one above all. That’s being dragged around by Thor. He hasn’t been on Midgard for a long time. Now he’s sent there on a fetch quest for Odin. As if that wasn’t enough, Thor wants to introduce him to his new “shield brothers”. As if one battle is enough to bring such a strong bond, such trust, between individuals.
Thor’s being a naive idiot again.
(Some nights, a blurry memory visits him. That of a strange, armoured mage.)
“And I’m sure you’ll get along with the Man of Iron!” Thor rambles. “His humour is similar to yours, brother, and he has a talent to breathe life into his metal constructs!” Loki just lets him go on and doesn’t pay attention to his words. Why should he care anyway?
It doesn’t take long to reach their meeting spot. Thor’s “shield brothers” are so different from one another. A spymaster and her archer partner. A healer, who is somehow, somehow , a berserker as well. A knight carrying a shield instead of a sword. Another knight in full armour, in red and gold.
[Let red and gold be the colours I pay tribute to….]
This knight has a star sleeping on his chest, light pulsing, barely visible in the brightness of the day. It reminds him of a magical core. Perhaps then, this is not a knight, but a mage.
He looks familiar.
Of course he is familiar! he mentally screams at himself but a second later. You fought side by side! You made a wish together!
Yes, they made a wish. Who knew it’d take it so long for it to become true?
Introductions come and go quickly, and he finds himself simply drawn to the knight-mage. Thor called him “Man of Iron” or “Starkson”. The knight-mage instead, introduces himself as Antony Stark, and asks him to be called just Tony.
[You can call me Antony. You’ve earned it.]
“Fear me.” Loki finds himself muttering. “Love me.” familiar. “Do as I say.” Why are those words, slipping from his mouth so strange, and yet so familiar? “And I will be your slave.”
The words seem to catch Tony’s attention, because he turns to him and asks “You’ve watched the Labyrinth ? Thor hasn’t yet. Same with Steve.”
“I haven’t.” Loki admits in a quiet voice. “I don’t know what came over me.”
“In that case, one more reason to watch it!” Tony cheers. “It’s a classic film.”
Loki nods. He’ll just have to wait and see if Tony was him. He could wait, after all. As long as it takes.