Lockhart's Tea Room
"Thor, believe me when I say I take no pleasure in this situation," Lockhart said, his voice carrying genuine regret. He gestured to the chair across from him, inviting the thunder god to sit.
"I truly wanted to help you—to maintain our alliance. But I was born into Kamar-Taj's service, and the Ancient One personally guided my mystical development." His words were measured, each carefully chosen to convey sincerity without weakness.
Thor remained standing, his powerful frame tensed like a storm about to break. Mjolnir hung from his hand, occasionally emitting faint crackling sounds as his emotions affected its energies.
"Thor, I understand your anger," Lockhart continued, "but you must know this decision pains me deeply as well." He spread his hands to encompass the room with its elegant decorations—many bearing Asgardian influence. "You witnessed the elaborate preparations I made for our alliance. I invested tremendous resources into strengthening our bond. Now, all those investments are effectively lost."
He met Thor's gaze directly. "Among all of Kamar-Taj, I have suffered the greatest personal loss in this severing of ties."
Thor's expression remained hard, but something in his eyes had begun to shift—a warrior's recognition of another's honorable struggle.
Lockhart leaned forward slightly. "Thor, consider this: I know that among Asgardians, there exists a prophecy of Ragnarök."
At the mention of this word, Thor's grip on Mjolnir tightened visibly.
"When Ragnarök descends," Lockhart continued, "all the gods of Asgard will perish—including your father, the God-King Odin himself."
Lockhart paused, allowing his words to sink in before posing a hypothetical that cut to the heart of their conflict. "Let us imagine that you discovered the cause of Ragnarök—its very source and origin. Regardless of whether you could eliminate this threat easily or not..." His voice lowered, becoming more intense. "Tell me honestly: Would you not do everything within your power to eradicate the roots of Ragnarök? Would you not act decisively to protect your people, your homeland, your Asgard?"
With deliberate movements, Lockhart reached for the teapot bearing Odin's mark. He prepared the tea using no magic at all—a symbolic gesture of humility and transparency—and pushed the cup toward Thor with his own hands.
As Thor contemplated the steaming cup, Lockhart continued his reasoned approach. He avoided excessive emotional appeals, instead methodically presenting facts, logical arguments, and analyses relevant to Thor's position. Emotional reasoning might sway Thor temporarily, but once the god returned to Asgard, such influence would quickly dissipate.
A rational examination of their circumstances, however, might genuinely prompt Thor to reflect—especially regarding the relationship between their two realms.
In truth, Lockhart harbored no desire to maintain hostilities with either Thor personally or Asgard as a whole. However, the Ancient One had explicitly positioned him at the forefront of this brewing conflict. Unless he was prepared to abandon any aspirations of someday becoming Supreme Sorcerer—and to bear the associated stain on his reputation—Lockhart had no choice but to decisively sever ties with Asgard.
He had witnessed too often how indecision in such matters resulted in pleasing neither side while offending both. Lockhart refused to make such a fundamental error.
While he would not abandon his compassion and humanity, he would never allow sentiment to override rational judgment—particularly in matters where the stakes were nothing less than existential.
Confronted by Lockhart's pointed questions, Thor's expression grew increasingly somber. The hypothetical scenario resonated deeply with his warrior's heart.
If he truly discovered the source of Ragnarök, what would he do?
The answer came without hesitation: He would rally his friends and Asgardian warriors, and together they would destroy that threat, protecting his family and homeland. Even without understanding from others, even without support from allies—even if he stood completely alone—Thor would risk everything to eliminate such a threat and prevent Ragnarök's arrival.
This was his unshakable conviction as Crown Prince of Asgard and God of Thunder.
And now, with dawning comprehension, Thor began to understand Lockhart's position.
Ragnarök threatened Asgard just as the Celestial embryos threatened Earth. Had their positions been reversed—had Thor discovered a threat to his realm—he too would have acted with unwavering resolve to neutralize it.
"Lockhart," Thor finally spoke, his voice reflecting his internal conflict, "if we allow the Celestial embryos to remain dormant, doesn't that ensure Earth's safety?" Confusion colored his tone. "Why must you take such extreme measures?"
If Thor faced a similar betrayal from his father and friends, he would argue passionately, trying to persuade Odin to change course or develop a superior solution.
Hearing this, Lockhart shook his head slowly. He raised his gaze to meet Thor's directly and asked with deliberate emphasis: "Are you absolutely certain the Celestial embryos will not awaken soon and consume Earth entirely?"
His voice hardened further. "Are you convinced that the older these embryos grow, the more difficult they become to destroy—potentially reaching a point where elimination becomes impossible for us?"
After delivering these pointed questions, Lockhart lifted the teapot with his right hand and poured tea into his own cup. He raised the cup, positioning it between them at eye level.
"The Ancient One knows of my relationship with you," he said quietly. "Now all of Kamar-Taj understands my connections with both you personally and Asgard collectively."
He paused meaningfully. "However..."
The cup trembled slightly in his hand. "The Supreme Sorcerer gave me this tea—Odin's gift to her."
His expression grew grave. "She has tasked me with responsibility for destroying the Celestials, authorizing me to mobilize Kamar-Taj's entire power structure toward this end."
Lockhart's eyes reflected a mixture of determination and regret. "Thor, surely you comprehend what this signifies. If I had any choice in this matter, believe me—I would choose differently."
With a final, resigned sigh, Lockhart withdrew the teacup from between them, raised it to his lips, and drained it completely in a single swallow.
Thor fell silent, the weight of realization evident in his powerful frame.
With deliberate movements, Lockhart pushed the ornate wooden tea box—Odin's gift to the Ancient One—across the table toward Thor.
"Thor, I suspect I'll never again have the privilege of enjoying such exquisite tea," he said with sad resignation. "You should take this."
A small, genuine smile touched his lips. "Incidentally, your father's taste in tea is truly exceptional."
Silence descended upon the tea room, enveloping both men in contemplation of paths converging toward inevitable conflict.
After what felt like an eternity, Thor placed his right hand atop the wooden box Lockhart had offered. He lifted his gaze, locking eyes with the sorcerer, and spoke with the gravity befitting his divine status.
"Lockhart, I recognize your difficult position," he said, his voice deep with emotion. "I will not compound your troubles further."
Thor straightened, his decision apparently made. "Our friendship, I believe, remains intact despite these circumstances. I have but one request."
His blue eyes shone with intensity. "I wish to speak with your Supreme Sorcerer personally."
The request landed with the force of Mjolnir itself. "You must grant me this. I have aided you substantially in the past," Thor added with firm conviction.
Determination radiated from him. Despite everything, he still wished to attempt diplomacy—to convince the Ancient One just as he would later attempt to persuade his father. The prince of Asgard had not abandoned hope for reconciliation.
Lockhart fell silent at Thor's unexpected request. Logic dictated that Thor should be denied entry to Kamar-Taj, let alone granted an audience with the Ancient One. With Odin's position unchanged, the two mystical powers stood in direct opposition, with major conflict seemingly inevitable.
Agreeing to Thor's request appeared thoroughly irrational—akin to a general arranging for an enemy commander to meet with his own sovereign during active hostilities. Such an action invited innumerable complications.
And yet...
"Very well, Thor. I give you my word," Lockhart finally replied, his decision made despite his better judgment. "I owe you this much."
He raised his hand, a slender wand materializing between his fingers. "I will arrange an audience with the Ancient One."
With a precise movement, Lockhart opened a miniature portal in the air before them. Through this shimmering aperture flew a small, iridescent homing pigeon, its feathers pulsing with mystical light. The magical messenger soared through the portal, winging its way toward the Ancient One's sanctuary.
The tiny gateway closed with a soft buzz, leaving the tea room in profound silence once more.
Thor's assessment had been correct—Lockhart did indeed owe him a debt of honor. Though reason counseled against this course of action, Lockhart's sense of integrity reminded him of this obligation. Some debts transcended political expedience.
Whatever repercussions or criticisms might follow, Lockhart would weather them. The burden of this decision was his to bear.
Minutes passed with excruciating slowness, each second marked only by the subtle sounds of their breathing. No words disturbed the weighted silence.
Thor waited with uncharacteristic patience, mentally rehearsing arguments he hoped might persuade the Ancient One to reconsider her position. Perhaps diplomatic channels remained open despite the apparent impasse.
Lockhart, too, waited, curious to learn the Ancient One's response. He struggled to comprehend why she had placed him in this uncomfortable position to begin with. Typically, the Supreme Sorcerer would never assign someone with close Asgardian ties to lead an operation against Asgard itself. Such a choice created inherent conflicts of loyalty and potentially compromised the mission.
Why had the Ancient One chosen this path? Was it a test of some kind—a means of evaluating his commitment to Kamar-Taj? The question troubled him deeply.
Both men remained lost in their respective thoughts until, without warning, a mystical voice resonated through the room—unmistakably that of the Ancient One herself.
"Lockhart," came the serene command, "bring Thor to me."
The simplicity of the message belied its extraordinary significance. Two realms stood at a crossroads, and perhaps—just perhaps—catastrophe might yet be averted through this unexpected meeting of powers.