Chapter 1

Loki was never one for fighting. He could do it, and quite well too, but he didn't like to if he could help it. Hand to hand combat was almost natural to him, despite his reluctance to engage in it, his style developing into one completely unique, fast and deadly yet frighteningly graceful. He liked spears, the familiar weight in his hand, always with perfect balance. Daggers were on him at all times, either for throwing or close combat. Projectiles, whether it be from a staff or his own hands, were also preferable to getting dirty, and his aim was nothing short of horrifyingly accurate. But he could fight, even if he didn't like to. Because, honestly, why get your hands dirty if you could so easily avoid it? He could do just as well with a few carefully thought out words, a poke around in someone's brain with a simple reading of their face. It wasn't that hard. Action and reaction, you only had to know where to look.

And the best part was, if you could read other people you were one step closer to controlling yourself, something Loki was very, very good at. He could cheat, scam, lie and better at will, without a second thought. He could be weak and help me it hurts when it does or it doesn't or he didn't even know. That was what Loki liked best about Loki. The fact that he was like glass and that it was strong glass. That he was so good at being transparent and invisible. He liked where he was, toeing a fine line between shattering and impaling whatever was closest to him, which was usually Thor, and was happy to stay there for the foreseeable future.

His magic was, seemingly at least, his greatest weapon. That is what people always said. It fueled his pranks, his fighting, even his everyday life. But, either because he was smarter than everyone else or because he just made a habit of disagreeing with people, he believed that to be wrong. Because the thing he valued over anything else was his lexicon. His greatest weapon. He doesn't need to lie, even though he is the God of said practice. In fact, aside from his schemes and his pranks he doesn't lie that often. Just because he gets bored so, so easily, people assume that he's a trouble maker. And he is, most definitely, but it's not always a bad thing, as hard as that is to believe. Because his head is his greatest weapon. His mind. That and, in turn, what he used express to his thoughts. They didn't call him Silver-tongue for nothing after all.

Everyone had a lexicon, and it was almost always underestimated and taken for granted, but never with him. Because it would be stupid not to use the greatest, most powerful thing everyone had at their disposal, and that is the sole reason why he assumed everyone else was, indeed, stupid. That, and because they were. But he didn't mind that, so long as they didn't get on his nerves, like stupid people tended to do. They were just so hard to get through to, you explain something over and over and it still so hard for people to grasp. Loki couldn't stand it. He didn't complain, again; as hard as that is to believe, because he'd lived with Thor for his entire life and gained some measure of self restraint, but sometimes found it hard to stop himself from being condescending and making people feel small. And sometimes he just did it on purpose, but that wasn't a big deal.

No, Loki wasn't insensitive, just smart. Wise might be a better word. To stop it from sounding egotistical, the best word would be moralistic. He believed in things and those things came first. And when it came to emotion, it used to be all or nothing. Now of course, he did his best to hide any emotion at all costs, probably because he was older and more sophisticated and didn't want Thor to be able to get inside his head. If he were happy as a child, the sun would literally expand to three times it's normal size and everything would become painfully bright. If he were sad, the ground would shake and green goo would drip off the castle walls and he'd lock the sun in a chest and chain it to oblivion. If he felt alone, he'd shut down, and then his actions were no longer accounted for, not in his mind. And yet they were, more than anything else.

Still, and to summarize, Loki could fight, physically. He didn't like to, because his mind was a wonderful thing and shan't be delved into further at this current time, but he could.

And that is exactly what he was doing now.

Frost Giants were large and lanky, albeit not-so-surprisingly strong, but overall not that hard to manage. An army of them on the other hand, would surely tire out the greatest warrior. Except Thor that was, but he didn't really count. No, an army was harder. You could knock them down and down down down but there were always more coming from all directions. Armies were endless and you'd only find someone like Thor challenging one made up of Frost Giants, on Jotunheim, with only five other warriors as backup. Even if the Lady Sif, who counted as four warriors, the Warriors Three, when working together, as at least six and Loki, depending on what mood he was in, possibly an army himself, were behind him, it was still a very stupid thing to do. Thor just happened to be a very stupid god most of the time, so it fit quite well.

But there they all were, fighting an army. Thor beating the crap out of whatever so much as blinked at him, whether that be a Frost Giant or the giant beasts that were stampeding through the battlefield. Thor himself looked a lot like a giant beast, but Loki knew better than to mention that now, or ever for that matter. The Thunderer was reducing everything in his immediate vicinity to pieces of Mjolnir smashed carcass, and having a damn good time too. Well, one of them had to.

And, for the record, Loki had offered Thor the perfect opportunity to leave this place without a battle.

"We will accept your...most gracious offer."

It was a bit over the top and took quite a mass of pride, something Thor would've never put on the line, but it worked and they were going to leave. So, so close.

And then an idiot giant had the gall to call Thor a princess. And as they all froze, thinking the same thing at exactly the same time, Thor's mouth quirking with hate, humour and the urge to kill, the only word that had left his lips and filled the silence was damn.

Because honestly, with the battle they were in now, after being so close, damn just seemed to be the perfect word.

Sif was going about things with her usual demeanour, an exercise rather than a life-threatening situation. She killed left and right, slicing and stabbing, her movements fluent and precise. Behind that though, was an air of confidence only found in one who had already proven them-self. One who knew their place and was proud of it. And so Sif's style could only be described as one without doubt, something even Thor admired from time to time. Frost Giants were trying to avoid her, but none that she set her eyes on ever escaped her grasp.

The Warriors Three were fighting both together and individually, although they seemed to have each other's back at all times, even when they were separated by not-so-small hordes of Frost Giants. There wasn't much to say about them, other than how they seemed to be able to fight and act like oversized children at the same time. They protected each other though, and that seemed enough information to provide a positive impression of the three. It was probably best to leave it at that before one caught wind of their more...unsavory practices, which looked less like honor and more like stuffing themselves and each other with masses of food and mead.

If we are to analyze Loki's progress, we firstly need to know exactly how he is feeling. His styles changed depending on his emotions and although he had never truly found his 'happy place' he wasn't always tricking and scheming and I'm wise and powerful and leave me the hel alone to read my Latin and do my homework. No, he was moderately happy at the time, during this battle. He'd successfully stopped Thor from being crowned, which, as hard as this is to believe, was for the good of Asgard. Loki knew his brother better than anyone, anyone, else and that meant knowing Thor was not fit to rule so long as he continued to act like an oversized and prideful buffoon. He had a sorry excuse for a mind, and the mind he had was not put to good use, if any. And that is why Loki was always there, to stop Thor from destroying majority of the nine realms, which may be a tiny exaggeration, but not by much considering it was Thor he was talking about. So that was fine, no one was hurt, Asgard was safe and they were still brothers, as annoying as ever. The trip to Jotunheim was not what he had planned, and although it was a stupid idea, he didn't mind this time. No, Thor was an idiot, but he was Loki's idiot, and Loki didn't want to lose his brother to Asgard when he was so sure that it wasn't time. If Thor was king now, it would all go to hel, and he felt that something bad was coming anyhow, so it was the right thing to do.

Damn, Loki was good at lying, to himself especially.

So Loki was in a good mood, which you could see if you watched him as he played with the larger beasts until they accidentally impaled themselves. What a shame. And when one made its way towards him, he sent his magic out, to the edge of a cliff. The rocks crunched and toppled down, down, down, into the trench behind him and the creature lifted its great head, sensing easy prey. It charged, heavy feet stopping, romping, closer, closer, closer, and the creature didn't hesitate to charge into what it thought was an enemy's flesh and blood. Loki only watched as his clone dissipated and the creature toppled over the edge and down to the ice below. He paused a moment before turning and rejoining the battle, a small smile lighting up his thin face. So Loki seemed to be enjoying himself as well, or at least just a little, because he was the first to see that they were wearing down far too quickly, until it was become dangerously obvious that they were close to breaking point. And Loki wasn't fond of breaking points, or at least not his own.

When he informed his brother, in the nicest way possible of course, he wasn't at all surprised at Thor's response. It was basically, I am a god and I don't care if you wish to flee like a little girl, I will not stop murdering things and there's nothing you can do to stop me, in a short, polite, Shakespearean sentence. He was only slightly surprised when the Warriors Three agreed with him instead of their idol, although it wasn't enough to award them with a brain in his own mind. Thor continued to smash and break and kill without a thought and for a moment, Loki's eyes met Sif's from across the battlefield. She rolled said eyes whilst piercing a Frost Giant's cold heart and a smile crept its way across his face yet again. Those eyes said yes, he is a buffoon but he is your brother, and Loki responded with his own look, you chose to be his friend, I haven't the choice at all. As quickly as the moment began it was gone and Loki faced yet another merciless giant, yet another beast about to die.

Only this time things went differently. He'd heard a yell, one of the Warriors Three, possibly Hogun, but he couldn't be sure, saying something about freezing, not letting them touch you. He hadn't been planning to let a giant touch him before then, but it was good to know that it wasn't an option at all, just in case.

This time, however, he let the monster grip his wrist, not by choice, but it touched him none the less.

And he expected the burn, the painful cold, the agony that would erupt from his wrist and possibly leave his hand lying on the ice at his feet. His throat was clamped shut, because he half expected himself to cry out, and knew that Thor, as different as they were and as engrossed in battle as his brother was at that moment, would come running to his aid, his speed possibly fast enough to challenge Sleipnir himself. He expected the Giant to sneer and glare and attempt to rip his neck in half.

What happened, however, was far different. The gauntlet shattered and fell away, but there was no pain, no burn, no message in his mind, it hurts it hurts let go. His eyes met the Giant's and there was no sneer, only shock and disbelief, what the hel do I do now?

And he looked down at his arm, his wrist, what he thought would be burnt and painful and tarnished and ow, only to see it turning blue. It crept slowly, the blue, up his hand and his fingers and wrapped around his palm. It snaked its way, ever so slowly, up his arm and around so he was blue, he was blue. It wasn't sinking in, the realization. He just stared and stared and stared as if his arm had grown a head and tail...again.

And then the giant let go and if Loki'd expected a blow, which he did before he realized his arm was blue, then that blow would've surely killed him, provided it was accurate. But there was no blow, only a deafening silence and pressure in his head. He heard nothing, but everything was so loud. He was blue, he was blue, he was blue.

And Laufey rose slowly from were he sat, watching the battle with an idle smile, his face now unreadable and grin malicious. Agonizingly slowly, his voice booming out over everything else, all movement stopping, dead in its tracks. All eyes on Loki, his blue arm slowly fading back to pink. They would've thought it some of Loki's magic, had it not been for the indefinite confusion and panic and fear in his eyes.

And Thor wanted to run, to run so hard to defend his brother, but he didn't move, frozen, just like everyone else.

Loki stumbled back, back-side hitting the cold, hard, unforgiving ice, his eyes still locked on the extremity in question. And as Laufey spoke again, slow and cruel and malicious and slightly, just slightly amused, it was as if he broke through the surface of a pool, his ears popping, the world rushing back.

"What have we here?"