2

"What Shall We Do About Loki?"

A triumphant Odin returned from Titan, and walked swiftly back to his chambers in the palace to have his squire remove his armor and put the Black Spear in the armory. His squire, Halfdan, clucked worriedly over the wound in the king's side. "Shall I fetch Healer Eir, My King?"

Odin shook his head. "It's a scratch, Halfdan. Frigga can see to it."

At that precise moment, the queen entered their chambers. "Odin, you're back! Tell me, did you give that skulking coward what for?" she demanded, sounding as fierce as a dragon, for indeed she was such when the lives of her sons were threatened.

"Aye, love." Odin answered, sitting on a chair beside the settee, stripped to the waist.

"Oh, you are injured!" his wife exclaimed. "Let me clean that for you."

"I shall fetch the medical kit, My Queen," said Halfdan, and then scurried off to do so.

When the squire returned, Frigga set about gently cleaning and bandaging the cut in her husband's side, using special salve that prevented infection and promoted quick healing.

While she did so, Odin told her what had happened on Titan, and how Thanos was no more.

Loki's chambers:

After an interminable time staring out the window, Loki finally blinked and returned to the present. He turned and saw Thor sitting beside him still, and quirked an eyebrow. "Why are you still here?"

"I thought you might wish to talk a bit," Thor said. He rang for Ravn, Loki's valet, and asked the small man to bring them something to drink and some food. Ravn bowed, he was dressed in Loki's livery, a green tunic with a black border and Loki's silver serpent on the left breast.

"At once, My Prince."

When the valet was gone, the two were quiet for a few moments, until Loki stirred and sighed. There was one thing he needed to know.

"Did…? Did Father know what happened to me after I fell off Bifrost?"

"I remember Mother demanding he look for…"

"My body?"

"Yes."

"You told me all of you mourned. Does that mean there was a funeral?"

"There was."

"But Odin never looked, did he? He just used an illusion for my funeral."

"Loki…."

"He never looked! Or Heimdall never did!"

"Why wouldn't Heimdall look for you?"

"I froze him solid, remember?! His not looking was his revenge!"

"But that would be in violation of his duties."

Thor felt a ball of ice building in his chest, of regret and sorrow. Loki just shook his head, his eyes dark.

"Nearly every night, I would call out for Odin, you, Heimdall… Mother… I begged you to rescue me, but I knew you couldn't."

"That was due to us destroying Bifrost."

"Once I knew no one was going to rescue me . . . that something blocked my telepathy . . . Once Thanos broke me…. I did whatever he wanted."

"Then I was right. You were being controlled."

"I was. But while we were fighting, I finally freed myself."

"How?"

"Simple. Regardless of the anger or hatred I had for you, seeing you there… Seeing how hard you were fighting to save me… It helped me remember how much I love my big brother." His voice broke, like glass splintering against solid rock.

Thor pulled him into an embrace as Loki wept quietly into his brother's shoulder, hot tears slipping down his cheeks. He clung tightly to Thor, as if to a lifeline in a storm, for he felt like he was drowning in fear and pain. Thor simply held him, his own heart breaking, for he hated that Loki was in such turmoil and he felt guilty that he had not come to Loki's aid.

Once he calmed down, Loki drew away, wiping the tears out of his eyes and Thor sadly smiled at him.

"Forgive me, Brother," the sorcerer muttered, his emerald eyes lowered in shame. "I . . . am not myself lately."

"You have been wounded, Loki. But we will help you heal," Thor promised.

Loki nodded, feeling an immense weariness sweep over him. He was so tired . . . tired of fighting, tired of pretending everything was fine when it was not. He felt dead inside, empty as a hollowed out piece of driftwood, and he doubted there would be anyone who could mend what Thanos had shattered. Or who would want to.

Ravn returned with a tray. On it were two tankards of mead, fruit, sharp cheese, freshly baked rolls, thinly sliced ham and a container of honey mustard. "Here you go, my lords. I shall return later for the tray, sir." He exited, sensing the brothers wished to be alone.

Thor fixed himself a large sandwich, watching in alarm as Loki took a small amount of the food. "That's all you're eating? That's barely enough for a sparrow!"

"It's enough. I have no real appetite," his brother replied, nibbling some cheese.

Thor sighed but did not press. He leaned forward to pick up his mead and Loki noticed an odd thing.

"Thor, why do you have a lock of dark hair on the right side?" He indicated a piece of hair braided and tied with a green tie.

Thor took a large swallow before answering, "It's a mourning lock. For you."

Loki looked startled. "For me? I . . ." He paused searching for words. ". . . Am honored."

Thor coughed. "It seemed the right thing to do. The palace . . . was empty without you, Loki."

Loki did not know what to say, how to feel. Or rather, he did not know how to let himself feel anymore. The fact that his family had mourned him as dead surprised him only because he thought they would have been glad, like Heimdall, to be rid of him. During his captivity, Ebony Maw had insinuated that no one loved him, not even Frigga. All of them thought he was a disappointment, a failure that never should have been born. That insidious statement had been repeated so often into his subconscious by the wicked psychic that Loki had begun to believe it.

A part of him still did.

It was why he had thought Odin would execute him. Instead he had allowed him to live. It was a small mercy, Loki supposed. If only he felt grateful for it. He nibbled absently on a pear, sipping his mead. Since being captured, nothing tasted right anymore. It was as if his tastebuds, along with everything else, were frozen.

"Where is the king?" he asked Thor abruptly.

"He went to visit Heimdall, I believe. Then I think he went off searching for those bastards who hurt you."

Loki gaped at him. "What? Why?"

"To punish them for hurting you!" Thor declared, astonished Loki would need to ask. "Surely you don't think he would—any of us would—allow them to get away with what they did to you?" His brother's cerulean eyes flashed. "Father will make mincemeat out of them. And you will never need fear them again, Brother."

"I am not afraid," Loki replied automatically. But that was a lie.

Thor looked at Loki askance but did not refute his brother. He would let Loki keep his pride. Then he prayed to the Norns to bring healing to Loki's troubled spirit.

Loki managed to finish a piece of bread, fruit, and a small piece of cheese before pushing the plate away. An awkward silence descended before Thor finished his mead and rose. "You look tired. I will leave you to your rest, Brother. Pleasant dreams."

The younger prince watched him depart and for a fleeting instant opened his mouth to call Thor back. Then he clamped his lips shut. He would be damned if he went whining to Thor like a baby.

Ravn summoned another servant to clear away everything but the bowl of fruit, then went to assist Loki, removing his cloak and boots so the prince could lie down.

When Ravn would have powered the lamps down, Loki said, "Leave one on low, Ravn."

Ravn nodded, saying nothing, though Loki cringed inside.

But he hoped the light would keep the nightmares away.

Ravn tiptoed away, shutting the door quietly. Loki settled down to sleep but found that even among these peaceful surroundings the demons came.

Loki ran down a corridor of black marble, through silent halls filled with the stench of rotting things, and behind him he heard the whisper of the wind as Maw levitated after him, calling in that sickening high-pitched voice.

"Loki! Lo-o-k-i-i! Lo-o-k-i-i!"

He ran, knowing one thing above all. He must not be caught. Or else they would take him back—back to the room of shadows, to have his mind probed and his self stripped from him.

He shuddered, sweating.

Where is the Tesseract? Where? Where? Tell me where it is? You know you want to. Tell me!

Maw's voice in his head. Unceasing, pounding at his shields, chipping away at them bit by bit.

He had fought, but the bastard was strong, bloated full of psychic strength like a puff adder from the victims who he had broken before Loki. For that was Maw's secret, the one Loki had learned before being discovered. Maw drew his strength from his victims, taking their psychic power for his own. He fed off it and upon it, using their pain and suffering and despair. An alien, but similar to a psychic noseferatu.

His breath rasped in his throat, yet still he ran. On and on, feeling Maw's psychic claws scrabbling at his brain, searching for a way in.

"Lo-o-o-k-i-i!"

Pain stabbed him like a thousand shards of glass. He stumbled, going to one knee.

"Surrender! There is no escape!" Maw taunted. "I will know all your secrets, Jotun prince!"

"Go to Hel!" Loki spat defiantly.

Pain exploded in his head and he felt himself falling—falling into darkness . . .

"Tell me!" Maw ordered. "Where is the Tesseract?!"

Loki sat up, yelling, "I don't know! It is lost! Lost!"

Sweat drenched him and his ebony hair straggled about his pale face.

He clutched his head, groaning at the headaches that always seemed to accompany such vivid nightmares.

Suddenly guards and Ravn burst into the room.

"My Prince, are you well?" asked the young Asgardian.

The guards searched for intruders while the blond valet ran to his master, alarm written on his face.

Ravn reached out to touch Loki, and then drew his hand back, yelping in pain as frost rimed his fingers.

Loki blinked, coming out of the nightmare that had gripped him. He brushed his hair from his eyes, seeing Ravn at his bedside, shaking his stinging hand. "Ravn? What happened?"

"Twas nothing, My Prince," the valet said through gritted teeth. "You were having a nightmare, sir—"

Loki eyed him warily, then saw the frostbitten fingers. "Did I do that?"

"It was my fault, sir. I went to wake you and . . . startled you," Ravn replied.

"My apologies. I thought . . . you were . . . someone else . . ." Loki murmured. You wretched fool! You could have killed the boy! "Here. Let me see." He held out his hand.

"My Prince, it is fine—"

"Ravn. Let me see," Loki ordered wearily.

The valet placed his hand in Loki's. Loki shook his head, angry at himself. "Next time I dream, don't touch me," he told Ravn stiffly. He traced a rune above the youth's hand. Then he blew on it.

The valet's fingers turned pink again and Ravn gasped in relief. "Thank you, sir."

Loki snorted. "You shouldn't thank me. I was the one who gave you frostbite."

"An accident. Do you wish anything else, sir? Some warm mulled wine, milk and honey . . ."

"Water," Loki answered. "Just put it down on the nightstand. Then go."

"Aye, sir." The valet bowed and left, and Loki cursed his weakness.

He sipped the water, trying to breathe deeply to calm his racing heart, and cursing his lack of control. He never would have done something like that before . . . before Maw had tortured him. Somehow the ghostly alien had shattered Loki's control over his frost magic.

Weak fool! Now you are not only a coward, you are a dangerous one! He castigated himself. Once he had prided himself on his iron discipline and control over his arcane power. But whatever Maw had done to him had broken that control and now he was no better than an apprentice.

He set his cup down and tried to find sleep again, for the clock said it was still the wee hours of the morning. But sleep proved an elusive quarry and he tossed and turned until the sun's rays peeked through the drapes on the balcony. Then and only then did he succumb to the sleep he craved, his mind drifting.

The king's chambers:

Frigga helped Odin put on his purple and gold robe of estate, and as she did so, she said, "Have you heard what happened last night with Loki?"

Her husband nodded. "Yes, Huninn informed me of it. He said Loki had a nightmare."

"He did not mean to hurt Ravn," Frigga began, her sky-blue eyes concerned.

"I know that, dear. Do you forget, I am a mage too?" Odin reminded gently. "I know what it is to suffer from night terrors. And to mistakenly lash out when wakened suddenly." He sighed and touched the side of her face.

The queen closed her hand over his. "Will you never stop beating yourself up over that? I was stupid to try and awaken you after you had just arrived home from the war with Jotunheim. And see? My cheek healed with no scar." She smiled at him.

"I will never stop regretting that. Even though you forgave me."

"Odin, you and Loki are much alike," Frigga said. "Both of you stubborn as stones and hardest upon yourself." She squeezed his hand before letting go. "You need to forgive yourself once in awhile, husband. Now what shall we do about Loki?"

Odin paced, his hands behind his back, thinking. Frigga walked beside him, not speaking, allowing him to ponder. Her husband seemed to think best on his feet, she thought in amusement. While the royal couple walked, their servants came in and tidied up their chambers, making the bed, running the sweeper over the carpet, and polishing the furniture.

Frigga had already considered a possible solution towards helping her son recover, but she remained silent, wishing to see if Odin would also consider the same thing. After thousands of years of marriage, they tended to think along the same lines—unless Odin allowed his temper to cloud his judgment.

Odin halted, his expression firming. Frigga turned to face him, her sapphire samite gown rustling about her feet. "Well?" she queried, one golden brow arching. "Have you thought of a solution, dear heart?"

"I believe so. That pox ridden psychic hurt Loki in ways that we cannot imagine. And given the fact that we have also hurt him by withholding the truth of his heritage, we have lost his trust."

Frigga nodded regretfully. "That is so." It pained her deeply to think that the son she adored now felt she had betrayed him. But she could not deny that he was right to feel so—for she had allowed herself to be swayed by her husband, and now they must reap the whirlwind. "Perhaps someday we can gain it back."

"Yes. But right now, Loki needs more help than you or I can give him. For all my power, I do not know how to heal a broken mind and heart." He held up a finger. "But I know of one who does."

"Go on."

"Lady Vivienne of Scarpsey," Odin stated, naming a town not far from the capital city. "Otherwise known as Lady Viva."

"The Mind Healer renowned across Asgard for her work with war torn veterans and victims of abuse," Frigga smiled. "I have met her. A lovely young woman. She came to the palace to deliver a presentation on her work. I was most impressed with her."

"As was I," Odin conceded. "She helped General Tyr and others. I think she is one of the few who could help Loki. She is experienced and she is also compassionate."

"She is also a skilled Empathic and Dreamwalker," Frigga reminded. "I think if anyone can gain Loki's trust and heal him it is her."

"I agree, love," Odin nodded. "I shall send Muninn to her with a message without delay. I cannot bear to watch him suffer."

"Nor can I," Frigga asserted. "After breakfast, I will go and speak with Loki, and see how he is faring. I will mention your decision to employ Lady Viva and hope that he sees the wisdom in it."

"That is good. I will be in a council meeting, discussing the unusual activity of the Dark Elves. Tell me how it goes later."

"I will," Frigga said, and then she kissed him lightly before taking his arm, allowing him to escort her to the hall for breakfast.

Loki's chambers:

Loki picked at his breakfast, even the tantalizing aroma of brown sugar bacon and lefse with cloudberry jam and butter failing to whet his appetite. He drank the peppermint tea, however, in hopes that it would quiet his stomach, pushing the rest of the plate to the side. He would eat later.

Ravn frowned worriedly, but said nothing, simply leaving the plate, hoping that his master's appetite would return later. He departed with the tray, and Loki retreated to the window seat to gaze out upon the gardens, a book lying forgotten in his lap.

He wondered when he would be summoned again before Odin. Then he shook his head. Best not to dwell upon it. He did not care what happened to him any longer.

There came a knock on the door, and Loki looked up to see one of his Einherjari holding the door open for his mother to enter.

"Loki," she began, a smile gracing her beautiful face.

"Hello, Mother," he said quietly, remaining seated, though good manners prodded him to rise. He gestured to himself, then with a twist of his lips, said derisively, "Have I made you proud?"

A/N: Thanks everyone for the awesome response to this story so far!

Next: A conversation with Frigga and Lady Viva recieves a letter from the king.