Loki POV:
Loki honestly doesn't know whether to sigh or curse his ridiculously good luck. To be a god, I suppose, he thinks to himself, lounging on his throne in his brand-new ice castle perched atop a frozen mountain.
Yes, his castle.
Ever since he gained the ice powers from the divine fruit, he decided—naturally—to build a fortress greater than the Golden Palace of Asgard itself. Bigger, taller, grander. Truly, he thinks, he should be crowned the God of Creation after this. Thor couldn't do it. Odin couldn't do it. But he, Loki, soon-to-be God of Everything, did it.
In front of him stands a group of little blue creatures. They look exactly like the same ones that nearly beat him to death once… just to steal his glorious divine helmet—because, apparently, they thought it was the "devil's fruit." Bananas.
In his glorious new ice kingdom, bananas are banned. Anything related to bananas is forbidden by decree.
The little blue creatures are holding up a terribly drawn sketch—one that somehow looks exactly like him at this very moment—and are pointing at him, whispering in their weird gibberish language.
"Boss, uh-huh, yeah, yeah, boss? He's the boss? Is he the boss?"
Loki props his chin on his palm, slouching lazily in his ice throne, his voice drawn out and smooth.
"You do realize I understand everything you're saying," he says, narrowing his gaze at the one in the middle.
"Ah! Boss Goldenhorn!" one squeaks.
"STOP!" Loki's voice booms across the hall. "Do not call me by my horns! You shall call me… King Loki." He announces it with the kind of enthusiasm only Loki can muster.
The creatures freeze, blink, and then all at once start whispering amongst themselves.
"Ah! King Loki! King Loki! King Loki!"
One by one, they kneel, chanting louder and louder until the whole hall echoes:
"All hail King Loki!"
Loki grins. Oh yes. Even though they look like his greatest enemies, he's just gained himself an army of loyal little minions.
As the day passes, he learns more about them. They call themselves Minions—a race locked in eternal war against their yellow-skinned counterparts, the so-called "Yellow Ones." A war older than Loki can even comprehend.
One strange thing he's learned: when Minions choose a master, they gain a portion of that master's power. It doesn't weaken him; it just gives them a… "Minionized" version of his abilities.
And his Minions, now sworn to serve him, have gained… the power to make ice cubes.
Yes. Ice cubes. Nothing else. No glaciers, no blizzards, no devastating ice storms. Just… ice cubes.
Pathetic. But amusing.
What they lack in destructive power, however, they make up for with one ridiculous trait: they are immortal and invulnerable. Nothing can kill them. From what Loki's gathered, not a single Minion from either side—blue or yellow—has ever died in the history of the universe.
And yet… trouble brews.
Recently, the Yellow Ones found a new master. A master with the power to control fire.
"Hmm. Fire, you say?" Loki murmurs, stroking his chin with a smug little smile. "Well, I'll just have to freeze it, won't I?"
From what he can tell, this "flame-wielder" is probably just some second-rate sorcerer who stumbled across the Yellow Minions, the little banana-loving demons, and somehow convinced them to follow him. Still, the balance has shifted—the blue Minions lost confidence, and most of their kind… simply vanished.
"Vanished," they said. Loki suspects they've gone to space. Or underground. Or… somewhere. Honestly, these creatures are so bizarre it's impossible to know. But that's fine. They make the perfect little servants for a god such as himself.
"Ah," Loki sighs, leaning back on his throne, daydreaming again. Soon, he'll return to Asgard. He'll punch Heimdall in the face, kick Thor squarely in the balls, step on Odin's head, and finally—finally—take his rightful place as King of the Nine Realms… no, King of the Universe.
He exhales softly, his eyes glazed in daydreams. "Ah. Soon… reality."
But for now, there's work to be done.
"To defeat those cursed Yellow Ones, we shall build… a new empire!" Loki declares, rising from his throne, his cape whipping behind him dramatically. "Behold, the dawn of… Loki-topia!"
"YEAH!" one Minion shouts, throwing its tiny arms in the air.
"Yeah! Yeah!" the rest scream, chanting his name as the ice hall erupts in chaos.
Then, suddenly… they start duplicating.
One Minion pops into two. Two into four. Four into eight. Eight into sixteen. Within minutes, the entire hall is overflowing with hundreds—no, thousands—of tiny blue creatures screaming their devotion to him.
Loki blinks. "…Wait. You can multiply?!"
"Yes, yes!" the leader squeaks proudly. "Each one of us can clone ourselves once! And then the clone can clone itself once! And then that clone can clone itself once!"
Loki's face freezes. "…So you're telling me… you can clone yourselves infinitely?"
"Yes, yes! Infinite blue army!" the Minion cheers.
Loki drags a hand down his face, muttering under his breath. "What in the Nine Realms are you?"
He stares at them, utterly baffled. "What kind of god created you ridiculous creatures?!"
No answer. Just thousands of little blue beings staring up at him, all chanting in perfect unison.
"ALL HAIL KING LOKI!"
Loki sits back, watching his ever-growing army fill the halls of his new kingdom.
"…I don't know what you are," he mutters with a crooked grin, "but you'll do nicely."
Captain America POV:
Ah. Steve sighs for the fifteenth time in a row.
He's recently learned a few new things about his little minions—things he really wishes he hadn't learned. First of all, they can control fire now. Tiny, tiny little fires, about the size of their pinkies. Basically nothing. But when you remember there are thousands of them, it suddenly becomes a little bit deadly.
He's also discovered they can clone themselves, which… explains a lot. Like why there are so many of them in the first place.
But right now, Steve isn't sighing about any of that. No, no, no. He's sighing because they're trying to tell him something.
And they're speaking utter gibberish.
Even though they're connected to him—something about being their "boss" formed a weird soul-link or whatever—he still can't make sense of half the things they say. Not that Steve actually believes in "souls." But… well, maybe. Lately, the world's been throwing him so many curveballs, his perception of reality changes about every other day.
"Blue…" Steve says slowly, squinting at the tiny creatures. "Uh… what was that? Say it again. Freelo? Uh… ice?"
One minion yells something back.
"...Hew?" Steve blinks. "Epiphany? No? Enemy?"
"YEAH, YEAH, YEAH, YEAH, YEAH!" the entire horde shouts, all at once, practically shaking the cave walls.
"Blue ice enemy," Steve repeats under his breath. Then louder: "We… have a blue ice enemy?"
He pauses. "What?" His voice cracks in confusion. "What the hell does that even mean?"
The minions collectively groan, then facepalm in perfect unison, the synchronized clap echoing through the cave like a gunshot.
"I'm sorry, I just don't understand you," Steve admits, trying his best to sound convincing.
Truth is… he has no idea what's going on. It's a miracle he can even understand any of their words in the first place.
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Author Note -
Okay, last chapter for today. We learn about Loki's blue minions, their clone power, and that whole "war since the beginning of time" nonsense (which Loki totally buys). I wasn't gonna post more, but the idea wouldn't leave me alone, so here you go. Congrats lol. Oh, and follow if you want.