Windstar: Thank you so much to all of my wonderful reviewers. I truly appreciate you all taking the time out of your day to post something. Every comment truly helps, and I'm more than willing to incorporate any suggestions that you have into the story - you just need to tell me about them! Thank you once more for reviewing, and I hope you enjoy this next installment.

Disclaimer: Please see the first chapter.

Chapter:

Loki watched in relative silence as his brother chatted happily with the night staff. The large man was sipping at a mug of warmed milk completely at ease with his state of life. After talking in Loki's room, Thor seemed to have relaxed a great deal. Now, there was only small traces of anxiety lingered. Every so often he'd look over at Loki, as though to ensure that he was really there, and then he would return his gaze to the cooks and speak more with them.

Loki had long ago realized that his brother was fairly incapable of being anything less than the center of attention. He surrounded himself with people who sang him praises, and he didn't know what to do if the attention was elsewhere. For this, Loki was grateful, because he never wanted to be the focus of everyone's gaze. Usually when it was on him, he was on the receiving end of someone's ire. He preferred to see people react to something he'd created over involving him in their socializing.

Still, there were times when Loki was honestly tired of being ignored, and after being awaked so early in the morning, Loki was more than a little upset by the fact that after all of this – Thor was only mildly acknowledging his presence. It was late, he was tired, and he really did want to go to sleep. Then again, a part of him that must have been his conscious started to argue for the opposite immediately:

Was he this upset about Thor's behavior because he was happy to be in the same room with him? Or was he upset because he was really upset? Was this another moment where happiness should have existed, but was denied him?

He sighed miserably and reached for his own mug. The chocolate inside of it had been a wild idea inspired by Thor in a rare moment of creativity. He'd found that he'd truly enjoyed the drink, and that he was pleased with its soothing effects. The balancing act between enjoyment, amusement, and true happiness was a middle ground that he was desperately trying to walk properly. He focused on things that made him upset, if only for the chance to enjoy something that would not truly take away the bitterness inside of him. It helped, somewhat.

The irritation that he was constantly trying to feel was dwarfed by imagined annoyance and anger at times, and he had difficulty trying to stabilize that middle ground mid conversation. It was why he was starting to just abandon himself from all civilization.

This was the first time in nearly a month he'd even left his rooms. Thor visited him every day, without fail. Frigga came occasionally – Odin not at all. Aside from servants who delivered him meals, he isolated himself from everyone. If he thought the abandonment would make him happy – he knew he was wrong.

He couldn't ever be happy. The moment he'd kept himself alone, the longing and desire to have someone to talk to came out full force. When someone visited him, it sharply inversed to wondering why this person came, and not some other. That soon turned into, why hadn't that person come sooner? The anger and frustration were impossible to deny. They grew with everything.

His books had begun to bore him to the point of insanity. He had priceless tomes that eight hundred years of thieving and collecting had granted him, and yet not one of them interested him. He'd read them all, every dwarf book to every elf book, every book on Hel, and every book on magic…they'd been read and reread so many times they were boring to even contemplate.

The bed was uncomfortable, the lights were too harsh, the coloring on the walls were too simple, the fringe was too gaudy. Nothing was right about anything, and the more he tried to change it – the more the imperfections shone.

When he interacted with others, he at least was able to take his irritation out on them. But now that he knew the reason for his dissatisfaction was magic, he'd been loath to speak to them. It would just cause more harm than good, and he couldn't tolerate that. Not in the slightest.

He ran a weary hand over his features. Right now, despite how the day before he'd been longing for a chance to spend time with Thor outside of his rooms, he was unsurprisingly agitated at their destination, the timing, the ignorance, and the loud booming voice that was surrounding him. He wanted to go back to sleep, but he smiled at that. Sleep wouldn't make him at ease; it would just prolong the inevitable suffering of all of this.

"Brother!" Loki turned his gaze towards Thor, wondering what the great oaf was on to now. "There is tell of wild boar in the fields behind the city! We should hunt it!" Loki blinked at that, fury at the idea starting to build in him. He shook his head, and tried to shake the emotion away. Hatred towards Surtr started to build within him and he focused on that rage for a moment in order to realign his priorities.

The hunt would be amusing, but it wouldn't take away from his overall anger and dissatisfaction with life. With that mind rocketing around his head, the truthful answer became far easier to find.

"Sure." He said with some difficulty. A new wave of disproportionate annoyances started to mount inside of him and he rubbed at his head in frustration. With the knowledge of why he was never at ease with anything, came brain-burning headaches as he tried to analyze each pro and con to anything he was doing. The headache was a good and bad thing.

It enhanced his overall misery to allow him to enjoy things more, but it still made him overly miserable in all things. The entertainment faded somewhat when he couldn't actually concentrate on what he was doing due to the pain in his head. Nothing ever settled and was at ease. One day…he would be free of this curse. It was just a matter of proper planning.

Thor was whooping with delight and was requesting food to be prepared for their journey. He was going off on what weapons they would bring, what materials they would collect and how they would go about the hunt. Loki was only half listening – his input, as always, was lacking the knowledge around such things. He had never engaged in hunts in the past, at least not to the extent that Thor had. He knew that he'd only been asked to ease Thor's mind around the obvious terror he still felt towards the nightmare, and he didn't want to let Loki out of his sight yet.

Loki shrugged off the aggravation at that one. If there was one good thing about Thor, is that his very presence gave him an oversensitive reaction towards annoyance and frustration. It made it easier to tolerate him and enjoy his company – he was already feeling angry, meaning he could find some amusement in their activities together. He had a much harder time with their mother.

The woman was filled with love and compassion and it was so easy to manipulate her, to make her sad, to fill her with grief. Loki found himself never truly enjoying time with his mother if only because she tried to hard. Thor never had to try, he simply was.

And so it was okay for him to go forth and go on the hunt with Thor. He had to do so. If he spent one more day in that room…he'd go insane.

He travelled with Thor down to the stables, and the familiar burn of hatred that coursed through him every time he stepped inside this place coursed over him. He forced himself to remember a time before Muspelheim. A time where he had approached his first-born and had gently loved him for everything he was worth. A time where he had known that Sleipnir was happy and that that was all that mattered. Funny, how much that statement meant to one who was incapable of happiness.

While Thor prepared his own horse, his goats a bit too obvious during a hunt, Loki quietly approached Sleipnir. The god horse looked at him warily, an effect of hundreds of years of watching temper tantrums that he had never truly understood. Loki felt guilt course through him, and he focused on that emotion as he slowly approached his dear boy.

He lifted a hand solemnly to the horse's muzzle, and felt pain course through him as the horse warily approached. He was not at all certain of how to handle Loki, and the stand offish fear tugged at the father's heart. Loki looked his boy over and felt the beginnings of pride stir in him. The horse was magnificent. And he told him so.

Immediately, Sleipnir touched his muzzle towards Loki's outstretched fingers and Loki felt anger course through him at how long it took the boy to approach. He bit it down, focusing instead on the pride that he had towards this beautiful animal. His creation. Words spilled from his mouth, speaking on and on about how handsome Sleipnir was, how sweet he was, how truly precious he was, and how marvelous he was.

Sleipnir liked the game, the touching, the gentle tone his father was using. He pressed harder against his father's hands – urging him to pet him harder and more insistently. Loki complied, ignoring all of the irritation growing him and focusing instead on the deep love he had for all of his children. "Beautiful…handsome…charming…do you have a mare that catches your eye, little love?"

Thor watched in the darkness, not saying a word at all, but simply observing. He had known how hard it was for Loki to do or say anything lately. It had been a chore; Loki was always so sharp with his words. He always knew what to say, and how to say it. Yet he said things because of emotions that were generally manipulated and false.

Being manipulated was something that Loki couldn't stand for a moment. The fact that Surtr still had that over him – fried his brains more than any other. Right now, was proof enough of how Loki was desperate to reform and get back on track with the things around him. Sleipnir practically melted under his father's hands.

"Why don't you take him with us, brother? Surely it would be good for him to run some. It has been so long since Father has." Anger coursed through Loki at that, and this time he was certain it was true anger and not anger in the place of happiness.

Odin had sworn to care for his son, to treat him properly. To not ride the boy was a disservice to his magnitude. Sleipnir wanted to run, he deserved to as well. Loki's hands tightened on the horse's coat, and finally he managed three deep breaths.

"What do you say, son, fancy a ride?" He asked cautiously. He hadn't ridden him in years. It had been far too long…well before the Jotunheim disaster, and Loki didn't even truly know the reasons for it. He had never felt comfortable using his child as a mount. He would walk with the youth, but never actually ride him. This…was different for both of them.

Sleipnir whinnied slightly and pushed Loki away from him. Hurt cascaded through the god's chest, but it didn't last. Sleipnir had twisted his head around and had gummed the latch of the stall between his lips and had tugged it roughly. The latch came free, and within moments the horse had opened the door and freed himself. Loki burst into laughter, seeing his proud, and clearly intelligent son, acting as such was delightful.

The second the wisps of amusement began to shift into true happiness, his mood soured quickly enough, he grit his teeth and tried to hold onto the feeling. This was happiness, and he longed to reach for it – to grasp it fully and hold it to his chest. It was intangible and gone before he could even try.

Sleipnir had no intentions on letting him think about anything, though, the horse ducked his head and caught Loki's shirt between his teeth. Instantly whipping about he tossed the surprised god onto his back he took off at a mad dash out of the stable before the man could so much as shout.

Thor was after them in a moment, quickly scrambling on top of his own horse, he spurred it into response and they shot after Sleipnir. There was no hope they could catch the galloping lord of horses, but they could at least follow them – should Loki fall.

Loki was a skilled rider, though, and he caught his balance on the galloping beast and clung to his son's mane with a tight grip. They floated across the grass, across the acres of land that just led to nothingness, up the mountains, and down to the streams. Joy filled Loki's heart and he felt the momentary bliss vanish within moments of achieving it. For only seconds later – he was filled with panic.

They were going to fast, they were going to crash, he was going to fall off, he was going to – shut up and stop fretting! Loki shook his head. He couldn't believe that this was how horrible he'd been. Before he'd realized his emotions were being played with by a curse – he'd honestly allowed himself to fret over such things. It was silly to be afraid of anything and everything like this.

That was, of course, until beautiful and proud Sleipnir found the wild boar. He damn near rode right into it, and the horse skidded to a sliding stop, turning at the same instant. Loki went flying, incapable of holding his seat with such a rough direction change. He hurtled straight into the boar, and barely had time to catch himself and jolt a wisp of magic around him before he crashed into the side of the beast.

He arched over and upwards, flipping over the creature and landing safely on the other side of it. The boar whipped its angry head about and howled at him in pure anger. He stared at it, calculating and curious. Sleipnir was at his side in an instant, body strong and defensive.

Loki had half a mind to smile – his son thought to protect him, like he was a weak child that was powerless to do anything. He laughed at the idea, even as annoyance at being babied bubbled in him.

Raising his hands towards the boar he made a quick spell and it's neck snapped in two. It was dead before it even began to charge. Sleipnir jumped back, startled, looking between Loki and the boar as though he'd done something particularly absurd. Loki just laughed at the expression on his son's face.

"Thor's boar is dead, and I believe we still had a ride to continue, if you're still willing?" He offered lightly, and the horse nodded. It looked prepared to throw him again, but Loki held up a hand. "Thank you, son, but I'm quite capable of doing so on my own." He said lightly. The throw had been more than a little surprising the first time, and fake or not – Loki hadn't liked it.

He was prepared to use his magic to help him levitate onto Sleipnir's back, when Odin appeared out of nowhere – his face set with agitation and annoyance. Loki jumped at the sight of his adoptive father's sudden presence. He opened his mouth to say something, but found that he truly had no idea what it was that he was supposed to say to the All Father. Sleipnir was excited to see his grandfather, and plodded over to greet him.

For the first time, Odin did not greet his horse in turn; he had his eyes only on Loki. His young son shifted awkwardly from one foot to the other, he bit his lip in anxiety, and he appeared more than a little uncomfortable. "A servant informed me that you had been seen leaving the city." Odin started, and Loki stared up at him with a sour expression. "Your confinement was to be all consuming."

"I had a chaperone." Loki growled, hand waving towards Thor who was slowly riding up to meet them.

"Would you rather be bound in place, if you think me too lenient?" Odin hissed, and all the color drained from Loki's face. A dark memory coursed through his brain and he shook his head mutely. "Sleipnir is not some ass to be ridden by a fool for his pleasure-"

"No. He is a son who has never wondered where he'd come from, and yet is still imprisoned despite his valor." Loki snapped back, fists clenched at his side.

"Father-" Thor started, slowly beginning to dismount as he looked at his family.

"Silence, boy! Let him speak if he wishes it." Temptation tugged on Loki's lips, but so did the reminder of the muzzle. It had not always remained steel, and Odin's original punishment had been far harsher than simple imprisonment. The tingles of scarred flesh on his lips drew Loki's memory towards the feeling of dwarven thread sewing his mouth shut. The physical pain that had followed had been nothing compared to the humiliation of the stitch. Thankfully, it hadn't lasted long. Frigg had put an end to it and Thor had backed her. Loki was to remain in the castle at all times, and he was not allowed to leave unless he was being "properly supervised." Apparently Thor did not count in that regard.

"Funnily enough..." Loki murmured as he glared hard at his father. "I have nothing to say." Then, he waved his hand slightly, and without so much as a goodbye to Sleipnir or an acknowledgement to Thor – he disappeared without a trace.

Sleipnir let out a loud cry of dismay at his father's disappearance, even going so far as to move to where Loki once was and sniff around as though he could track where he went. He whipped around to look at Odin, and the All Father had the good grace to look slightly guilty. Sleipnir didn't seem to care, he brayed loudly in the god king's face, before turning and galloping away, bucking and rearing in anger the whole while. It was the horse equivalent to a temper tantrum. The furious expression on Thor's face wasn't much better.

"Father! Whatever did you say that for? He was-"

"You seem to forget all that he has done in the past so easily, Thor." Odin snapped. "Or do the thousands of people who lay dead in Midgard mean nothing to you?"

"They mean much, father, but he is trying for redemption." Odin shook his head sadly.

"He will never achieve it, not so long as that curse hangs above him. All he cares about is his next plan, his next scheme - and you are far too willing to encourage him."

"He has caused no harm here, he was simply out riding with me-"

"You were a league away! You could hardly follow him with your eyes. You allowed him to ride the fastest horse in all the realms and you thought you could watch him?"

"He was not causing any harm!"

"Sleipnir can leap dimensions, he can travel to all the realms, he is the only being that can transport himself to Hel and you gave that horse to your brother to ride? Did it never occur to you that at any moment he could have left and never returned? Did it ever occur to you that Sleipnir would have helped him do it? There are reasons why it is impermissible to ride the king's horse, and did you not think of that before you delivered him to your trickster?"

"My brother, you mean." Thor corrected with a glare. Odin didn't bother to amend the statement. He just locked his gaze with Thor.

"There is no excuse to allow Loki access to that much power. There is no reason at all that he should be allowed to leave."

"There's always reasons...always events that could come up and change everything."

"No, Thor. There are not." Odin shook his head sadly. "And the fact that you cannot see it only goes to show how far you're willing to accept his lying ways. His lips were better sewn closed."

"Father..." There was a warning in Thor's voice and the All Father raised his hand.

"I will not do it, again...but there were reasons for doing so in the first place. You watch him, Thor, since you seem to be the only one willing to do so. You watch him, and you do not allow him to leave this realm for any reason."

"Of course, father, we never had any intention to. It was simply a ride." Odin rolled his eyes. That, he heavily doubted. Thor, though, was not impressed with his father's disturbance of the day. He handed the reins to the god-king, and he withdrew Mjolnir from where he held it. "You may ride my horse back to the castle, I will fly. I suddenly have lost the desire to ride anywhere." He spun the hammer about, and shot into the air.

Nobody cared at all about the boar that still lay dead on the ground.

Spell or not, it seemed nothing was willing to help Loki ease the hurt that continued to grow in his chest.