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"I don't believe that belongs to you."
Luke goes still for a moment, then turns smoothly to face where the voice came from, pocketing the stone he'd been reaching for as he does it. The stone hums, practically vibrating with power, and it makes the hairs on the back of Luke's neck stand on end. It makes him itchy, having something that powerful just casually sitting in the pocket of his jeans.
Not that it's the first item of power Luke's stolen. He's even wearing one on his head—which is what makes it so strange to have someone staring right at him right now. Hades' Helm of Darkness is supposed to shield him from all forms of vision, hell it's how he managed to get this far in the first place, slipping right past so many Asgardians who had no idea he was even there.
And yet here he is, in the vault of a fucking palace, and suddenly someone is actually looking at him for the first time since he put the Helm on.
"That's relative," Luke returns, settling his hand around the hilt of Backbiter. The newcomer's gaze flickers to the motion, tracking it, but doesn't seem bothered. Doesn't make any moves to reach for a weapon of his own. Not that Luke would expect him too—gods never see mortals as threats.
Because that's who this has to be, right? Luke is standing in front of a god, and not one from his part of the world. While the Greek pantheon might travel with the heart of the West, the Norse gods kept themselves very much separate from it all, not deigning to tie their homeworld to Earth in such an obvious way. No, it was damn hard for Luke to get here, that's for sure—but it helps to have a sword that can cut pathways through the fabric of reality.
(It helps that he is a spectacular thief.)
"Is it?" the god says, raising an eyebrow. He's leaning casually against the wall, lips curved with amusement, long black hair neatly combed back. "That stone is not yours, ergo, it doesn't belong to you."
"It doesn't belong to you guys, either," Luke says, lips curling back in a sneer. He shoves down the spark of anger in his chest, knowing it won't serve him any good here, but it's hard to not feel it. Gods are all the same, no matter where they're from; pompous beings who believe the rules don't apply to them. Who think they deserve everything in the universe to just get handed to them.
Not anymore, not on Luke's watch. The Norse gods might not technically be Luke's enemy, but once he takes care of the Greeks, he doesn't see any reason for him and Kronos to stop there. Gods are all the same. They all deserve what's coming to them. And Luke is going to have a lot of fucking fun robbing them all and then using their own items of power to tear them to shreds.
This, though. Kronos told him all about this, and it doesn't belong to any of them. It belongs to the universe. And Luke plans to make use of it.
The god hums. "True enough, I suppose." He pushes upright, and Luke goes tense. "But all the same, put it back, if you please."
"No," Luke says. His heart pounds in his chest, excitement and fear thrumming through him in tandem. He hasn't gotten a chance to face any of the Greek gods yet, still doing all his work in the shadows. There's something extremely satisfying about standing in front of a god and telling them no.
The god laughs. "No?" he echoes, amused by Luke's refusal like it's something silly. It makes Luke bare his teeth. Always underestimated. They'll all learn to not underestimate him. "Can't say anyone's ever told me 'no' before. It's...quaint."
"Well get used to it," Luke says, grinning. "Because the answer is no. I'm taking this with me."
The god sighs, eyes rolling skyward like Luke is a troublesome child. "I thank you for providing something unique to my day, boy, because trust me life can get rather monotonous—you have no idea how boring everyone is here—but you don't belong here." He sniffs the air dramatically. "You reek of Greek—that helm of yours especially should not be here."
He wants something fun, the voice echoes through Luke's head out of nowhere, turning his stomach to lead. It's the same thing that happened with Ares, Kronos coming to his aid to tell him exactly what to say, what to do. How to manipulate gods and make them play to your side.
But that interaction lost Luke the Master Bolt—he has no intention of losing what he came for this time.
He wants chaos, Kronos continues. He's Loki, the trickster god, a talented thief himself. He has more than a bone to pick with his family.
Loki, yes, Luke knows that name. Many consider Loki to be the Norse equivalent of Luke's own dad—thieves, tricksters, travelers. Luke knows how to work someone like this, especially with his Lord's guidance. If Loki wants a shake up, Luke can give him one.
"You're right, I shouldn't be," Luke agrees. "And I'll be out of your hair soon—why try to stop me? Think of the uproar that will happen when everyone discovers someone stole right from the All-Father's own vault. That a thief walked in and out without anyone noticing, and stole something as powerful as this. There would surely be some...chaos."
The trickster god blinks at him, and then grins, delighted. His green eyes are sharp and guarded as they examine Luke.
"Well now," Loki says, "you're a clever little thing, aren't you? But I'm afraid I haven't the faintest idea what you mean—why would I wish such strife upon my family?"
The words come to Luke without conscious thought, his master offering him everything he needs, "Because no matter what you do, no matter what you've ever done, they never see you. They never see anything. Why not shove their blindness in their face? All their power, all their majesty, and not a single one of them noticed a lone demigod waltz into their realm. Don't they deserve to see just how weak they really are?"
Loki's smile has been wiped from his face, replaced with a perfect blankness, with calculation. Luke struck a nerve.
"I'll admit, I'm impressed." Loki says. "But you carry power you have not earned."
"I have earned it," Luke snaps, anger burning through him, hot and vicious. "I've earned it all and more. I stole the Bolt, the Helm, now the Power Stone. I got here, where no mortal has tread before. I've fucking earned it all, and I will take it."
Loki smiles, thin and satisfied. "Your buttons are too easy to press, little demigod."
"Takes one to know one," Luke shoots back. Loki's lips twitch, and then he inclines his head, acknowledging the truth in that. After all, Luke's already pushed his buttons—rather successfully, he would add.
"What is your plan, exactly?" Loki asks, tone mild and curious. "How do you intend to escape the Realm Eternal all by yourself?"
"I got in that way," Luke says with a scoff. "You gods—always underestimating mortals even when what they can do is shoved in your face. It will be your downfall, just you wait."
"Show me then," Loki says, not acknowledging the accusation. "I have you cornered, I can see through that little helm of yours. Show me how you would get out, if I weren't to graciously allow you to pass."
Luke can't help but smile, drawing Backbiter. Loki glances at it, raising an unimpressed—nearly disappointed—eyebrow. Probably thinking Luke intends to start a fight. But no, Luke has more than a few tricks up his sleeve, and he rather thinks the trickster god will enjoy it.
Luke lifts his sword and slashes it down in a smooth arc, picturing the woods of Camp Half-Blood as clearly as he can inside his mind. Home sweet home. It takes it a moment, but the image appears, and the portal forms right in front of him. A quick and easy escape.
A few feet away, Loki looks at the gateway with surprise, an interest in his gaze that is nearly human in its brimming curiosity. But then, Luke supposes this is new for the Norse god—they don't have a lot of overlap with the Greeks.
"This would be my ride," Luke says with a smirk, pleased with himself. "Been great to meet you, but I'm afraid I have places to be, other shit to steal."
Then, with a lazy salute, Luke steps forward through the portal, not giving Loki a chance to say anything else just in case the interaction was going to end up falling the wrong way. He trusts Kronos' knowledge, and from what he could see Loki does have some issues built up, but he'd rather not leave it to chance.
The portal closes behind Luke as soon as he steps through, and the sound of a god's mischievous laughter follows him back to Camp.