The SHIELD holding cell was nothing more than a reinforced plastic cube in the center of a larger tent.

  I walked down the corridor, carrying two paper cups. The coffee inside was terrible- burnt, cheap, and brewed by a stressed technician, but the quality of the drink wasn't the point. It was the act of sharing it.

  Coulson was standing outside the cell, watching through the reinforced glass.

  "He hasn't said a word," Coulson murmured as I approached. "Just sits there staring at his hands. You sure you want to go in without a guard? He put six of my best men in the infirmary."

  "He won't fight," I said, looking through the glass. "He has nothing left to fight for."

  Coulson studied me for a second, then nodded to the agent at the door. The magnetic lock disengaged with a thunk.

  I stepped inside. The door slid shut behind me, sealing us in.

  Thor didn't look up. He sat on a metal folding chair, his elbows on his knees, his face buried in his muddy, bruised hands. He looked smaller than he had in the diner. The arrogant god who had demanded a steed was gone, replaced by a man who had just realized the universe was moving on without him.

  I walked over and set one of the paper cups on the small metal table bolted to the floor. I pulled up the only other chair and sat across from him.

  I took a slow, deliberate sip from my cup. I didn't rush the silence. I let it stretch until forced him to acknowledge me.

  Thor slowly raised his head. His blue eyes were bloodshot. He recognized me. He remembered the diner, and he remembered the Abyss. But right now, he was too broken to be afraid.

  "Did you come to mock me?" Thor asked. His voice was raw, stripped of its usual booming behaviour. "To see the fool who thought he was a god?"

  "I came to bring you coffee," I said smoothly.

  Thor looked at the paper cup, then back at me. "I do not want your bitter water."

  "Drink it," I said softly. It wasn't a request. It was a gentle, absolute command.

  Thor hesitated. The warrior instinct in him, the one that had recognized my authority back at the diner, compelled him to reach out. He took the cup in both hands. The heat seeped into his muddy palms. He took a sip, grimacing slightly at the cheap taste, but he swallowed it.

  I set my cup down. "It grounds the mind. A reminder of where you are."

  The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  "I know where I am," Thor whispered, staring into the dark liquid. "I am in exile. My father... he cast me out. He stripped me of my power. Mjolnir..." His voice cracked. He couldn't finish the sentence.

  "It didn't move," I finished for him.

  Thor squeezed his eyes shut. "I am unworthy."

  "Good."

  Thor's eyes snapped open, a flash of his old anger sparking in the blue depths. "Good? You mock my ruin?"

  "I am stating a fact," I replied, meeting his gaze evenly. "You were born a prince, Thor. You were given strength that mortals cannot fathom. You were given a weapon forged in the heart of a dying star. And what did you do with it?"

  Thor opened his mouth to boast, to list his conquests, but the words died in his throat. He looked at the plastic walls of his cage.

  "You used it to seek glory," I continued keeping voice calm, "You used it to intimidate. To conquer. You treated power as a right, a toy for your own amusement."

  I leaned forward slightly, resting my hands on the table.

  "A king is not defined by his weapon, Thor. A weapon is merely a tool for slaughter. Any brute can swing a hammer. Any fool can burn a village."

  Thor stared at me, his breath hitching. No one had ever spoken to him like this. Not even Odin. Odin shouted. Odin decreed. But I simply stated the truth plainly.

  "Then what defines a king?" Thor asked, his voice barely a rasp.

  "What he protects," I answered.

  Silence.

  Outside, the rain continued to beat against the roof of the tent, but inside, the air was completely still.

  "The strong exist to shelter the weak," I said, looking into his eyes. "That is the only justification for power. If you hold power only to serve your own ego, you are not a ruler. You are a tyrant waiting to happen. Your father saw that. That is why the hammer sits in the mud."

  Thor looked down at his hands. He looked at the bruises on his knuckles from fighting the SHIELD agents. Ordinary men. Men who were just doing their jobs. Men he had hurt because he was throwing a tantrum.

  "I have been a fool," Thor whispered. A single tear tracked through the mud on his cheek. "I thought... I thought Midgard was just a realm of fragile creatures. A place beneath me."

  "And now you are one of them," I said gently. "You bleed. You feel the cold. You feel despair."

  I stood up, smoothing the front of my suit jacket.

  "Do not waste this, Thor. This is not a punishment. It is an opportunity. Learn what it means to be fragile. Learn what it means to rely on others. Because until you understand the value of a single, fragile life, you will never be worthy of holding the power to end millions."

  I turned toward the door.

  "Wait," Thor called out, standing up quickly, the metal chair scraping against the floor.

  I paused, looking back over my shoulder.

  "Who are you?" Thor asked. The arrogance was entirely gone. He was asking with genuine, desperate respect. "You look mortal, but you hold strength of the ancients. Are you a god?"

  I looked at the cheap paper cup sitting on the metal table.

  "I am just a man drinking coffee," I said. "Anyway. Discover your own worth, Odinson. The universe is about to become very loud, and Earth will need a protector."

  I knocked on the door. The magnetic lock disengaged, and I stepped out into the hallway, leaving the Prince of Asgard alone in his cell.

  Coulson fell into step beside me as we walked away.

  "Did you get anything out of him?" Coulson asked, glancing at his notepad.

  "Just a conversation," I said, putting my hands in my pockets. "Release him when the scientist comes for him. He isn't a threat to you anymore."

  Coulson raised an eyebrow but didn't argue.

  I walked out of the tent and into the crisp, rain-washed desert air. The seed was planted. Now, it was up to Loki to force it to grow.

  [

  For more chapters, access my patre0n

  Link: https://patre0n,com/WonderingWriter

  ]