I must not fear for fear is the mind-killer.

Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration.

I will face my fear.

I will permit it to pass over me and through me.

And when it has gone past, I will turn the inner eye to see its path.

Where the fear has gone there will be nothing.

Only I will remain.

- Frank Herbert, Dune

The palace was an impressive, bright hall during the day, but the night turned it into an ominous labyrinth of dark corridors and vast rooms inhabited by shadows and creatures born of nightmares. The walls echoed with jingle of swords as the Einheriar fought restlessly. Valhalla was a scary place, after all - if one listened carefully enough and knew where to look. It was a citadel. A reminder that the Aesir were always at war. Usually Loki didn't need anything more to lay stiff and sleepless, too afraid to close his eyes, fighting off images of what might happen, of enemies banging at the gates, of prisoners kept below the palace, of all the things he had learned that his imagination fed upon, but this time, it was not abstract fear that kept him awake. His current situation would have been funny... if only it wasn't so distant from his idea of how young sorcerers should act.

Young sorcerers certainly shouldn't hang upside down from chandeliers, trying to hide from their brothers and their bands of overgrown bullies. They also shouldn't rely on a simple wish that their brothers won't be bright enough to look upwards.

The godling clutched his fingers on chandelier's frame. From this angle he could see Thor's golden hair, a mess of curls moving as he tilted and cocked his head.

'Loki?' Thor's voice rumbled in the corridor. 'Where are you?'

Loki sighed. Why bother with stealth when his brother would soon wake up the whole castle.

'Loki, you shouldn't be out there! It's already late, and dark, and it's...'

And what? Dangerous? Because our father has told you so? The self-proclaimed sorcerer smirked.

'Loki... oh. Why do you...'

Loki blinked with surprise and looked at his older brother, now with his head raised up. The fact that Thor was equally surprised was not comforting at all.

'What are you doing up there?', Thor asked.

'Nothing in particular', the other godling replied in his most disdainful tone. 'Admiring the view, probably. This angle is quite interesting.'

The older prince furrowed his eyebrows.

'Honestly?'

'No', Loki snorted.

'Then why did you... and how, by the way... why are you hanging from a chandelier?'

'It's none of your business.'

Thor's frown became deeper.

'You weren't hiding from me, were you?'

No witty retort came to Loki's mind. He could deal with an insult or a dare, but Thor's question was so unbelievably frank and naive. He was easy to read, and now everything about him - the serious look in his eyes, the deepening wrinkle between his brows, the gesture of his hands - signified concern and honesty.

'Not from you, you fool', he said finally, scorn ringing in his voice again. 'From this band of brutes that has gathered around you. I would have never expected my brother to surround himself with such mindless creatures.'

'They're my friends.' This clearly sounded like a warning. 'They're loyal, and brave, and they would never abandon me in battle.'

Loki gave a scoffing laugh. 'And how many battles have you fought? How many times have you put their loyalty and courage to test?'

Thor remained silent, clenching his fists. The other godling could almost sense his tension and anger rising.

'And is it true that you have accepted a dwarf's companion? I could understand the servants and the squires, but a dwarf? How does such a pitiful, greedy being earn a prince's friendship? The next thing you'll probably do will be inviting a mortal to join you...'

'Watch your words!' Thor cried.

To Loki's surprise, it wasn't a cry of anger. It was another warning - and a rather unexpected one. His brother tried to contain his own pride and to prevent himself from responding to these insults as he should, according to Asgardian customs.

It was actually a sophisticated form of backing off.

Loki gazed at his brother for a while and started laughing. He couldn't think of a better response, and laughter was halfway between a taunt and acknowledging one's victory. He squinted, avoiding the shade of disappointment in Thor's eyes. Triumph or not, it still wasn't a pleasant sight. It made the memories of previous humiliation and need for revenge melt.

Thor exhaled deeply. Any further discussion with his brother was bound to be pointless and he could as well walk away. But there was still one thing he was curious about. Loki didn't do things just because he felt like doing them. Anything he did had a purpose. A reason. It could be a very abstract cause, but it always was at the core of Loki's motivations, no matter to what it led.

'Are you planning to spend the rest of the night here, hanging upside down like a bat?'

'No.' The reply came after a few seconds of deliberation.

'It has nothing to do with your sorcery, am I right?'

'...you might be.'

'Then why?'

Loki didn't respond. Thor could barely see his brother's face in the candlelight, his eyes narrowed to slits of a bright, greenish shade of blue.

'You got stuck up there, didn't you?'

Loki scowled.

'You really did?'

The older godling shook his head in both disbelief and amusement. His lips curled in a faint smile. Loki sighed. There were a few things young sorcerers should never say, as these things could easily thwart their fresh reputation and air of sinister mystery. Such as -

'Can you... do something about it?'

There were also answers that future kings, only freshly clothed in pride and boisterousness fitting storms and thunders just fine, shouldn't give. For example, 'Sure, brother'.

- - -

The morning dawned all too early; as if the sun rose a few minutes after Loki had pressed his head to the pillow. His hands still felt a bit sore and wore stains of soot and rust from the chandelier. The young prince would gladly wrap himself up in blankets and steal a few more minutes of sleep, but this was clearly not the Asgardian way. After all, his drowsiness was only a petty inconvenience, nothing that should keep him from his duties - or his interests.

He yawned and scrubbed off the stains carefully. Even though Sol was only beginning her journey, the citadel was already filling up with sounds and voices. He could easily pick up his brother's loud, cheerful voice. As if last night's wanderings didn't affect Thor at all - well, maybe they didn't, he was tough. He always had this strength of his, just enough of it to go on even when he was supposed to faint from exhaustion, this inner flame, palpable for anyone whose senses were extended by sorcery.

This flame is his will, and we all shall see it turning into a magnificent blaze, said father when Loki asked about it.

He had looked into himself many times and never noticed anything even close to that beautiful flame. Maybe a few sparks of coldfire, if anything.

Loki sighed and knotted a decorative jacket over his tunic. There had to be something else. His magic didn't come from nowhere. He grabbed a sheaf of clear parchment - astral pockets, it seemed, were still beyond his abilities - and strode to the dining hall.

Becoming a sorcerer was, in fact, a strenuous task, and most of it wasn't even sorcery at all. It was memorizing countless names, dates and events, supposedly resulting in gaining some essential knowledge of how the worlds were functioning. Inevitable boredom was the side effect. Loki didn't see any link between this tedious theory and exciting practice. He didn't need the former, first of all. He just felt the magic and instinctively knew how to use it.

He sat down at the table, waiting to be served and repeating the previous lessons silently. His hand flickered over wood, carving illusory, glowing runes on its surface. He knew soon he wouldn't need even gestures, his wishes would flow and bend reality -

'What's this?', a well-known voice rang over his ears. 'Is it what they teach you now?'

Thor smiled and sat on the opposite side of the table, smiling with genuine interest. It's already been a year since their ways in study parted, and they have been learning separately, assisted by different tutors. Loki had to admit he knew very little of what his brother was doing - mainly because he didn't ask. He had no willingness to listen about the things that he was apparently not good enough for.

'This? No', he said, erasing the runes. 'This is nothing but a trick. I do it for fun', he added with a smirk.

Thor smiled even wider.

Oh, why don't you go away and let me prepare for my lessons.

'And you?' Loki forced a polite tone upon himself. 'What are you doing now?'

'I'm mostly working in the stables', his brother said casually, making broad gestures.

'You. In the stables', the younger prince raised his eyebrow.

'Aye. You have no idea how difficult is to tame those horses. They're very nervous at first and make a lot of mess. They also bite sometimes.' He raised his sleeve to show an extensive bruise as a proof. 'We're having a hard time cleaning after them.'

'But... you're a prince. An heir to the throne', Loki reminded him, nibbling at his breakfast and flushing his sleepiness with a heavy, spicy infusion. Princes didn't need to clean the stables. That's what the servants were for.

'I am indeed', Thor said between one mouthful and another. 'But I have to know how to control those damned animals in battle, and I have to understand the people that ride them.'

'What for? You won't even meet them, you'll be only giving orders', he shrugged.

'Not only', Thor explained in a merely indulgent voice. 'Of course I won't be even able to meet all of my soldiers personally, but we need to trust each other.'

Loki raised his brow skeptically.

'And how is cleaning the stables supposed to help you with this?'

'Well', the other godling waved his hand in another gesture. 'I learn about their way of living. I experience the same difficulties as they do.'

'But you're not one of them', Loki snapped. 'You're someone different.'

He drank the rest of his infusion quickly. This conversation was sounding too much like the previous one, only it was more polite. For now.

'Maybe I'm not that different', Thor said surprisingly calmly. 'I have to tell you, brother, the more time I spend with those people, the less I feel different.'

'I can't wait to see father reacting to this', Loki muttered, gathering his belongings. It was a poor retort, but he wasn't letting his brother have the last word. 'Have a nice day, brother, I don't want to keep my tutors waiting.'

Thor looked at Loki's plate, almost full.

'Aren't you going to eat this?', he asked.

'I don't think so.' Loki believed he had just reached the peak of eminence available to hungry young godlings pretending to be sorcerers. 'My lessons are more important.'

'Can I have it?'

'Sure. Eat it. I'm not hungry at all', he said, trying to ignore the twitching in his empty stomach.

The twitching continued throughout lectures and discussions. Loki scribbled inattentively, his mind wandering to places his tutors would probably never suspect.

They were so much alike that they could be one person; all of them wore heavy, black robes and probably were born when the world itself was an infant, and now wrinkles were carved so deep in their faces it was difficult to imagine what their features could have looked like. Loki had decided that even if he was going to be one of them, he would never allow himself to assume the look of a twisted root. He'd save spells and rites for important things, and he would be able to gain the rest with a smile or two anyway. Not that he really wanted to be one of them. They could be powerful or dangerous, but their minds were exasperatingly dull. Exhausted of any curiosity or courage. They reminded him of empty shells, enslaved by themselves, too afraid to reach for more. Even worse: denying him the access to more knowledge. And he knew there was something else. It was calling to him. As an echo of a howl.

Loki frowned. Such calls rarely led to anything other than trouble, he already knew this; but since no one wanted to give him answers, he had to find them on his own.

He remembered the last time he tried to obtain the answers from his father. The memory filled his mind with smell of smoke and blood.

- - -

The chambers behind the throne room were no place for a child, and he could clearly understand why the guards would never let him in. He didn't even think of asking them to let him in, in the first place. He sneaked past heavy curtains and tapestries, for once in his life being grateful for unimpressive posture.

He could see Odin's silhouette: an outline of a sturdy armlet, the tail of a robe, silvery hair adorned by a heavy crown. Suddenly the idea of sneaking in here and breaking his father's ban became a ridiculously stupid, careless idea. However, it was already too late - the All-father surely knew about Loki's presence in the room.

'What is it, my son, that troubles you?', he asked, turning his head to him.

Loki could swear his heart stopped for a while, petrified with fear and awe, as usual. He expected his father to order him to go back to his rooms, where he'd have to deal with his own self-disrespect arising from the disappointment he'd caused. But Odin only looked at him with what must have been concern.

'It's only...', he muttered, gathering his courage. 'Forgive me, father, but since none of my mentors could fully understand my questions and doubts, let alone answer them in a satisfactory way...' His lips curled in an apologetic smile. 'I have decided to ask you.'

He bowed his head.

'Then ask.' All-father's voice was sympathetic, and yet he could hear echoes of past years in it. He couldn't help feeling a little scared.

'It's about the Eitr, father. I've been told it's the substance that ran through the veins of the first beings', he almost recited. 'The essence of life, one could say.' He frowned. 'Only it's venom. It's poison. How could that be? Are we really born of bane?'

He took a deep breath and continued to talk with nervous excitement.

'At first I thought that there must be some mistake, some misinterpretation in the texts I've read. After all, we couldn't be... evil.' The last word rang surprisingly heavily, like a verdict. 'We are the Aesir. We cannot be evil. Can we?'

Odin gave him a questioning look.

'We are the creatures of light, born to rule over other realms and to protect them from primeval darkness', the godling added frantically. 'It is our privilege and duty...'

...and if it's not? If it's only a right we had claimed ourselves?

'What are you trying to say, my son?'

'That poison just cannot be a cure', Loki said too sharply.

'Very well then, you've found your answer.' Instead of scolding him for this or expressing approval for his logic, Odin dismissed him with an inattentive gesture. Loki bowed his head again and left, feeling that he was even further away from the answer than before.

- - -

Loki sighed. He had already made up his mind, but the idea was thrilling nonetheless. After all, he was going to steal. It could be a book no one else cared about, but theoretically, it belonged to his father. And surely was guarded.

He waited until Sol hung low over the horizon. He'd decided it would be better than wandering through the citadel in the middle of the night, when any movement would cause suspicion. Now nobody paid attention to him, and he easily entered the oldest part of Valhalla.

It was built of yellowish stone and red-tinted wood, carved in elaborate patterns. Columns supporting the ceiling were clasped in arms of dragons. Empty wooden eyes seemed to follow Loki as he walked through the chambers, breathing in the surprisingly pleasant scent of spoiled resin. His steps were careful, as if he didn't want to wake whatever creature could be sleeping in this absolute silence.

There were no doors; only decorative arches over the passages. He looked back, trying to remember his path. He walked for what could have been hours. The sun must have set long ago, and he still hasn't found any trace of the book he was looking for. In fact, the chambers were surprisingly empty. No iron chests or trophies hanging from walls. No furniture, not even torches or chandeliers. This part of Valhalla seemed to be filled with its own, soft light. Loki also noticed - far too late as for a self-proclaimed godling of cunning - that there was no dust on the floor.

He was so occupied with unraveling the mysteries of this place that he hardly noticed a wall at the end of the corridor. He almost bumped into it and instantly jumped off.

There was a large wooden relief placed into that wall, and at first he took it for a living creature standing opposite him. It was slightly taller than him and had Asgardian features, but he couldn't tell its gender. Two other creatures, clearly females, stood behind it. The illusion of depth was perfect. Loki leaned forward, examining the details. For a moment he felt the person's breath brushing his skin.

'It's your mind playing tricks on you', he told himself, leaning even closer. And gasped.

The carvings were, in reality, lines of intricate writing, forming a portrait. There wasn't a single inch of wood that wouldn't be covered in swirling runes. He ran his fingers over the symbols, trying to identify this alphabet. It didn't surprise him that the wood was as warm as one's skin. If there were creatures made of poison and light, there could be beings woven of spells and stories as well.

Somewhere behind him, a door snapped with a dry echo.

The sudden realization of someone else's presence evoked a cold shiver running down his spine. Loki stood still for a moment, then turned away and ran towards the entrance. He knew all too well that he was risking an encounter with the person that had entered these chambers, but he wasn't going to wait for them at the dead end, frightened like a prey during a chase.

He hid behind one of the columns, feeling the wooden scales pressing into his arm. He could already hear the thump of footsteps. There was more than one person.

The comparison to chase became more accurate than he'd like it to be.

'We know you're here.' The voice was crude, the pronunciation even more so. Loki clenched his teeth and quickly moved towards the next column. If they were wise enough, they might have left someone to guard the entrance, but he could deal with one opponent.

He peeked cautiously from behind the sculpture. There were five of the hunters, all of them taller than him and with tunics clinging tightly to their freshly developed muscles. They didn't bother to invent any strategy of combing through the chambers; they just swaggered through them with dull animal persistence. It came to Loki that soon even this vast, labyrinthine room won't be a clever hideout if they managed to surround him. And he didn't have much time. He had one last risky way out, though. He tried to gather all his thoughts in one place and wrap them around one simple wish: to disappear. It was supposed to work that way - the reality should bend to his will.

Only it didn't want to do so. He could feel the air tingling his skin, as if it refused to form a shield around him. He could also hear the steps drawing closer. His will seemed to radiate a faint shimmer instead of expected bright light, and soon even this won't be of any use.

His thoughts disentangled for a while and scattered, but then something else pulled them in one place again, as strongly as a magnet pulls scraps of iron. It wasn't fear, surprisingly enough. It was anger. He, Loki, was not going to get caught. And he would force the world around him to protect him, if needed.

Suddenly, the air pushed into his lungs as the shield around him closed. He turned back just in time to face one of the so-called hunters - completely oblivious to his presence. Loki held his breath and passed by the lad. He wanted to laugh: after all, he was walking among them, those pitiful soon-to-be warriors, and he could do anything to them if he wanted. It was a pity that he needed to get out quickly. He could make them feel chased and scared.

He strode to the entrance instead, chin held up, a smile flickering on his lips. His thoughts have formed a tight knot around the very core of his personality -

- and then they dispersed, again, drawn away by hundreds of questions and issues he'd been juggling in his mind on this day.

He blinked in disbelief, painfully aware of how exposed and visible he was now.

There must have been something that undid his illusion, pulled all threads out of it. Something he couldn't put his finger on. And he didn't have time for this, anyway.

Soon someone pushed him, and he hardly kept his balance.

'So you thought you can hide from us?', someone said from behind his back.

'Petty little coward.'

'You and your girly magic tricks.'

Loki scowled.

'Leave me alone', he ordered. The command met with mocking laughter.

He tried to strain, but oppressors had surrounded him, forming a tight circle. A wall of strong hands and hostile sneers.

Someone pushed him again and he almost dropped.

'What did you look for, you little creep?'

'Why would I tell you', he snorted. 'You wouldn't be able to understand it anyway.'

He knew he wasn't helping himself before one of the ruffians managed to tug at his tunic.

'Let's make it clear', his enemy growled. 'You are at our mercy and nobody will come to help you. So you'd better give anything you've found in here.'

Loki somehow managed to look calm. Or even a bit bored.

'Go and look for it yourselves if you really intend to loot your own home.'

He expected a blow for this line, and was kindly surprised when it didn't occur. Opening of the door and the sight of his brother was surprising, too, but at least it made sense.

The bullies took a step back, as if they didn't intend to do him any harm. They would probably call him names or scoff at his poor battle skills, but they wouldn't touch him in Thor's presence. It was just as reassuring as it was humiliating.

Thor looked at him, his hands resting on his hips in a gesture that signified anything but serenity.

'Where did you think you were going?', he asked, glowering at him.

Loki felt a wave of cold anger pouring over his mind.

'And since when do I have to excuse myself?'

Of course it made sense. His brother's motivation could have been genuine concern, as usual, but asking his friends to look for his sibling was a stupid mistake. And so it was Thor who stopped him from finding out what was written on the portrait. It was his fault. The wave of anger struck again.

'I know I should respect you, brother', Loki added in a malicious voice, 'but how could I?' He sighed with feigned sorrow.

'Loki – don't.' Thor's reply sounded like a thunder, but he could see also fear in his brother's eyes. He already knew where this conversation was leading to. They both knew.

Loki smiled.

'Since you cannot accomplish anything without your pack of hounds. Not very impressive, I would say.'

Thor clenched his fists.

'Take it back, brother.'

Loki shook his head, glancing at the ruffians. They stood still in anticipation.

'I order you to take it back.'

The younger prince rubbed his fingers, remembering the carved runes beneath his fingertips. Maybe he still had a way out.

'Make me', he said finally, looking his brother in the eye. It took a good deal of composure. Just as looking in the eye of the storm.

'I shall', Thor replied furiously. Someone clapped their hands.

Loki took a deep breath. This was not going to be easy, but still better than surrender.

'A duel, then?'

'On the morrow.'

'Where?', Loki asked.

'In the gardens. And no weapons. Only bare hands.'

'So be it.' He thought of what he could do without a weapon. His mind was his weapon. He didn't need any other. 'The winner has the right to ask the loser for any favor. Such as bringing a valuable item.'

Thor gave him another warning stare.

Loki smiled.

'I dare you… brother.'