Disclaimer: If it seems familiar, I do not own it.

"Father, am I cursed?" Loki's anger grew as his words only fueled a worse suspicion.

Odin's eye darkened as he turned to Thor. "Leave us. You too, Frigg."

"Father—''

"YOU HEARD ME! CANCEL THE HEALER AND BE ON YOUR WAY!"

Thor's entire posture stiffened, and for a minute, Loki feared that Thor would be fool enough to cross their father. "Of course," Thor bit out. He turned and bowed his head. "Farewell, Brother. Be well."

Once Loki has alone with his father, Odin glared at him. "HOW DARE YOU SNOOP THROUGH RESTRICTED RECORDS!?"

The celebration following the announcement of Thor's upcoming coronation had gone on for three hours already. Not a long time by Asgard's standards, Thor expected the celebrating to last well into the night.

Thor forced a smile and politely accepted Baldur's congratulations. Fandral came over, threw an arm over Thor's shoulder, and loudly insisted that Thor attend his friends. Baldur swiftly—and graciously—excused himself. Fandral led Thor to a table in the corner of the palace's great, golden dining hall. Sif, Hogun, and Volstagg sat on one side. Across from Volstagg sat his wife, Hildegund. "You know," Thor said as he set his half-full mug of ale on the table. "I should chide you about interrupting nobles, but I grow weary of the same conversation."

"And of merriment," Fandral rejoined. "It's one thing for you to slip out early from battle-feasts, but it will do you no good for your subjects to think you unhappy to rule them."

"I am unhappy that my brother will not be at my side for the coronation."

The rest of the table looked startled. Volstagg even quit eating. "Surely Loki will return to see you crowned?" Sif asked.

"I had assumed, but when I asked Father about his return date, he reminded me that he had told me to cease my questions decades ago."

"What could Odin have him doing that's important enough to miss the coronation?" Volstagg asked.

"Is he doing anything for Odin?" Hogun said softly. "All we really have is conjecture and rumors based on the king's past words. Perhaps he's in the dungeons." Hogun held up a hand before Thor could protest. "I do not wish to offend, but Loki has caused trouble in the past."

"Mischief," Fandral scoffed. "Nothing that would incur that sort of punishment."

"His antics have left him unpopular with the nobles," Hogun said. "If he enraged the wrong person, it would cause political nightmares. The All-Father may have found it expedient to enact a short-term punishment to head off such a stunt. Or to keep an over-raged noble quiet."

To Thor's surprise, Volstagg nodded absently as he finished off a bread roll.

"It's been what, fifty years?" Fandral said. "Surely the All-Father would release him for this."

"Nobles have long memories. Besides, Loki is loath to admit his wrongs. I doubt he's done himself any favors."

Thor frowned at Sif. He knew not what had soured her opinion of his brother, but Sif held her grudge as well as any of her fellow nobles. "Loki is no more stubborn than any of the rest of us." He looked over Sif's shoulder and saw his mother talking with the Lady Ran. Many had commented on Queen Frigg's sadness in the wake of Loki's departure. Had she some knowledge Odin had forbidden her to share?

Sif's snort drew his attention back to the table. "And when did Loki apologize to your tutor for accusing her of tainting his milk? I'm sorry, Thor, but if Hogun's right, you shall not see Loki for a long time yet."

"But Hogun's not right," Thor said firmly. "And such matters are not fit for speculation." Thor looked around the table. Once satisfied that everyone had heeded his point, Thor lifted his mug. "Now, I believe Fandral pointed out that this was a celebration." Thor drained his ale and tossed it over his shoulder. "ANOTHER!" he cried as the mug shattered on the floor.

Other cries soon followed his.

"Worried about your kingship?"

Thor blinked at his mother. "No, why?"

Frigg set her handloom on the small table next to her seat. "You are usually not so quiet during our visits. What troubles you?"

"Loki," Thor admitted, though reluctant to address a topic his mother found painful.

Frigg sighed. "I know you want him at your coronation."

"It's not just that. A few days ago, I mentioned my conversation with Father to some friends. It was suggested that Father might have imprisoned Loki to appease some noble. I ensured the speculation would not spread, but…"

"But it got you wondering. Your brother has his share of critics and the nobles need a… delicate approach sometimes, but they know better than to cross your father on the matter of family discipline."

"I did not think it true," Thor said as he relaxed. "Not truly, anyway. But Father is concealing the reason behind Loki's absence. He did not even let us say goodbye."

A shadow flickered across his mother's face. "I know you feel the need to look after Lok—"

"'Tis not that. Well, not just that. I am to be crowned king soon. Even though 'tis only under Father until his full retirement a century hence, I need to know the things Father keeps shadowed. I need to know his reasoning, so that I do not act at cross purposes."

"You are not king yet. It is not necessary that he share everything today. And some of your Father's secrets are not easy things for him to speak of."

"Yet you know them, do you not?"

"Some of them." Frigg touched Thor's cheek. "You've grown from the boy who used to pretend the columns over there were marauders to subdue, but you are still young. Knowledge will come in time. Just remember, your father loves you both, and has always acted with the best of intentions. But sometimes to love your family is to accept their actions.

"To accept that sometimes your love is not enough," Frigg finished softly.

"We should go on an adventure," Thor told the Warriors Three a couple weeks later over a meal in his private dining room. The declaration did not meet the immediate enthusiasm that Thor expected.

"Forgive our surprise," Fandral said as Volstagg tucked into a pheasant's leg. "But you have had little enthusiasm for adventures since Loki's departure."

Thor nodded. "Because he should be at our side. But after my coronation, I may never have a chance to leave Asgard for a mere adventure again. I would like the chance to make one last story with you and Sif. And… I may have been remiss as your friend. Just because Loki's removed from our fun, should not mean you do without two friends."

Hogun and Volstagg exchanged looks while Fandral smiled brightly. "Right. Well, we'll have to ask Sif if she ever shows—" As if summoned, Sif threw open the door to the room. "Sif! Good of…"

Fandral trailed off as Sif entered. Still in her gray riding cloak, Sif looked several shades paler than normal and appeared on the verge of shaking. A cold weight formed in Thor's stomach. "What troubles you?" Thor asked as Fandral voiced his own inquiries.

"Loki. He's—" Sif plopped into a chair. "I had a quick message for Heimdall. He and the All-Father wer—" Sif swallowed hard. "When I approached, I heard Heimdall say that he had scoured every rud of Jotunheim—" The group stiffened at the mention of Asgard's ancient enemy— "After Loki's warning, and that he had seen no forces amassing, but as Loki was still masked from his sight—"

"WHAT!?" Thor exclaimed.

Sif glared before she continued, "Heimdall also said that as they knew not how Loki vanished from Asgard, if the talk he reported was serious, we could be vulnerable."

Thor felt as if he had taken a hit from Gungnir. "Loki was spirited to Jotunheim?" he said. "He was spirited away, and Father not only has failed to remedy the situation, HE HAS KEPT IT HIDDEN!?" With a roar, Thor stood and pounded his fists into the table. The table split and spilled its contents on the floor.

"HOW DARE THEY!? AFTER THE LESSON FATHER TAUGHT THEM A MILLENNIUM AGO, HOW DARE THEY EVEN THINK OF SUCH AN INSULT!? AND HOW COULD FATHER NOT CRUSH THEM!?" Thor kicked a fruit bowl into the wall where it shattered. Thor's breath heaved in and out as his nails dug into his palms. After a few minutes of staring at the shards, purpose filled Thor. "My friends, we must remedy this. We ride into Jotunheim to retrieve my brother."

His friends voiced various protests: "That 'tis not why I brought this news."

"'Tis forbidden!" Fandral said.

"What if they kill Loki the moment they see the Bifrost?" Volstagg asked.

"SO I SHOULD LEAVE HIM THERE!?"

"He got a message here," Hogun said. "That could mean he's escaped, just not gotten off-world. Jotunheim is far larger than Asgard, and even here, one individual is not so easily found—more so when he is an illusion master."

Thor growled, but recognized the wisdom in Hogun words. This was no mere adventure he proposed. "Then we plan," he said, "to draw Loki to us. Most of your people resettled in Vanaheim, correct?"

Hogun's jaw clenched a minute before he replied. "Yes, many of us have Vanir ancestry."

"Good. We'll use that to go to Vanaheim and find a Nidavellir trade ship."

Sif frowned. "No Dvergr will take us to Jotunheim. The Dvergar may be underhanded, but they have more sense than that."

"That's why we will not ask them to take us to Jotunheim," Thor said as a sense of smugness filled him. Is this how Loki felt whenever he shared one of his convoluted schemes? With that thought, Thor's mood evaporated.

"Are not sly tricks are more Loki's forte?" Fandral asked.

"It matters not," Volstagg said. "We won't get past the Gatekeeper. What?" the rotund red-head said. "You think the All-Father would fail to give him strict orders on this?"

"Heimdall is said to see and hear all," Fandral remarked, "but surely his senses are not as keen as all that."

"More than that keen," Sif said, "but, like all of us, he does not necessarily heed every little detail his senses perceive."

"Then pray my father yet keeps him distracted," Thor said, unconcerned with the darkness in his tone. He turned back to Hogun. "So what else shall we do on our visit to your people? I hear some of Vanaheim's mages put on shows with perception-magics."

Sif and the Warriors Three sighed and exchanged looks.

Thor suppressed a scowl at that. Granted subterfuge was Loki's forte, but surely they did not think him completely inept. "Come, my friends. I assure you; it will be a proper last outing…"

The tavern was rundown and low-class. In the corner, next to a low fire, a bard plucked a lute and warbled some tale of a mining accident and lost love. Thor scowled down at his abysmal drink. The insipid music only underscored Loki's absence. Loki always felt that Asgard's bards should bring more variety to their songs. He had always insisted they sample local music whenever they traveled. Loki never failed to share his opinion on said music, whether cutting or complimentary.

However inexplicable said opinion might be.

Thor quickly swallowed the rest of his drink before he looked around the place. Nidavellir held more beauty than Thor had expected, with its dim, distant suns and so many buildings carved out of the earth. However, while Dvergar were many unpleasant things, they were fine craftsmen. Even this place, a shack by Nidavellir's standards, showed expert crafting and fine detail. The walls and stones interlocked so tightly, that Thor could not tell exactly where the half carved out of the cliff face joined the constructed half. Motifs carved into the walls depicted Nidavellir landscapes, which included a distant view of the mountain range that held the tavern—and contained Nidavellir's inter-realm trade zone. The door opened, and Thor watched the newcomer duck through.

Finally! Thor thought.

A different hue than the few Dvergar that sported blue skin, the creature stood four feet higher than the Aesir. He had the tell-tale lines of a Jotun etched into his skin, but the lines looked less gruesome than the drawings in the royal tutor's book. The Frost Giant wore a Nidavellir-made outfit of greens and browns that made him look almost civilized. A silver broach shaped like a raptor on the creature's left breast indicated he was the one they wanted.

Unfortunately, he was not alone.

Two other Jotnar entered after their target. Thor saw the worried looks Hogun and Volstagg exchanged in their corner. So many Frost Giants could prove problematic, even for an elite group of warriors like Thor and his friends. If a fight broke out, Thor had no doubt the Æsir would emerge victorious, but Thor might have to resort to Mjölnir. Which could not fail to alert the All-Father to their location.

Besides which, we need the beast's aid, Thor reminded himself. As much as he would love a fight at the moment, they could not afford one. With a sigh, he turned to Sif as the Jotnar sat. Sif raised an eyebrow. Thor nodded once and stood. Sif frowned, but rose from her own seat to join Thor as he approached the Jotnar's table.

Thor slid into the free chair and sat across from the target. It caused the fabric of the clothes Hogun had procured to bunch uncomfortably, but Thor ignored it. They could not afford to allow the Jotnar to perceive weakness. "You are the trafficker called Himinglævir?" Thor addressed the target as Sif snagged a chair from the adjacent table and sat beside him.

The Jotun's red eyes narrowed as a slate-grey Dvergr wench set mugs of ale in front of the Jotnar. "Your attempted mimicry of the local accent just butchers that name further," he said. He had a deep and gravelly voice.

"I just repeated what I heard, Trafficker." The Jotun seemed less than mollified by Thor's words. "What would you prefer I call you in our dealings?"

"We have no dealings," Himinglævir rumbled. He grabbed his mug and drank some ale.

"Yet. That is why we sought you out."

Himinglævir's men sat straighter in their seats and glowered at them. "We require passage for six to Jotunheim," Thor ignored the Jotnar's attempts to intimidate. "We are prepared to pay a handsome sum."

"How generous of you," Himinglævir sneered as he placed his mug on the table. "Jotunheim is a closed realm."

"It's supposed to be," Thor said. "But even the All-Father knows that not that all worlds obey his embargo."

The man on Himinglævir's left stood and slammed his hands on the stone table. Conversation in the tavern ceased as all attention turned to them. Almost all, Thor realized as the Jotun sat again at a gesture from Himinglævir. The trafficker's right-hand man looked towards Fandral's corner. One large blue hand now rested closer to a belt-worn dagger.

Himinglævir's eyes sharpened as he looked Sif and Thor over. "You are no Vanir," he said with a pointed look at their garb.

"What of it? You're no Dvergr," Thor countered.

"I don't pretend to be." Himinglævir reached into a coin purse. "Odin Frost-Thief might tolerate young upstarts with no memories of the last war seeking another, but Laufey is not so forgiving." Himinglævir tossed a few coins on the table in front of them as he stood. "Here. Book yourself passage to the badlands. You'll get enough violence to sate even Æsir tastes."

"That is not acceptable," Thor said as he blocked the trafficker's exit. Himinglævir's red eyes narrowed. "Please," Thor forced himself to say as Himinglævir's men moved his way. "I swear to you, I look to start no war in this trip." Not until Loki's safely home. "We just need safe passa—"

"Illegal entry is an act of war." Himinglævir spoke like a tutor to a dense pupil. "One I will not facilitate."

Himinglævir stepped past Thor. Thor spun quickly and grabbed the trafficker's arm. "You must n—"

The arm Thor had grabbed flew at him. Before Thor could react, Himinglævir had backhanded him in the mouth.

"Thor!"

Himinglævir jerked his arm free. "So she speaks," he said as Thor realized that the other Jotnar had drawn their daggers. Around the bar, the Warriors Three drew their own weapons. The mage Hogun found edged toward the door. "You should use that tongue to teach your man propriety."

Thor clenched his fists. "Why you—"

"WAIT!" Sif stepped back and bowed her head to Himinglævir. "We apologize for giving offense. It was not intended. He is just distraught with worry over his brother, who we believe—though circumstances out of his control—may have ended up on Jotunheim."

One of Himinglævir's companions snorted. "An Æs would stand out."

"My brother is a master of illusion. As is one—"

"Gunnlod refers to your manner," Himinglævir said. "Your brother is not roaming Jotunheim unchecked. Take your search—"

"You must help us!" Thor protested. "Whatever your price, we will meet—"

This time, Himinglævir's blow caused Thor to see stars and stagger a few feet back. "Learn to take no for an answer, Little Æs." Himinglævir spoke softly, yet his cold tone conveyed more anger than Odin's shouting ever did. "My loyalty is not negotiable."

Fandral swung at Himinglævir's second man. The Jotun blocked the blow with a shield of ice. The shield held, impossibly unmarred as Fandral's magic-infused blade skidded over the surface.

The tavern erupted as everyone scrambled to escape or join the brawl. A distressing number opted to defend the monsters. Should have expected as much from Dvergar and creatures that would willingly associate with them, Thor thought as he ducked a blow from Himinglævir's opinionated crewman. Thor grabbed a nearby table and swung wide, forcing Gunnlod and some green-skinned creature to fall back. In the back of his mind, Thor could feel Mjölnir's desire to join the fight, even as his own fingers itched to call the hammer to him. Thor ducked a thrown chair and lost his grip on the table as Gunnlod slammed a club of ice into it. Thor rolled away from a Dvergr's dagger and saw Sif parry a blow from Himinglævir with her sword, which half-remained in her Vanaheim-acquired travel pack. Himinglævir's ice blade struck the pack, which tumbled at Himinglævir's feet when Sif pulled the rest of her blade free.

Thor grabbed a chair and lobbed some Kree in the head with it as he debated slamming Mjölnir about while the hammer stayed concealed in his own travel pack. It was at that time a bright light filled the tavern and Thor had the odd sensation that he could smell the colors around him.

"…The first aid kit."

A woman's voice cut through the haze in Thor's head. Sif? he wondered. He had been fighting next to her. Now he laid flat on hard ground, and felt more than half asleep.

"Do me a favor and don't be dead."

Sif would never plead like that. Even had she feared Thor's death, she would threaten retribution. The realization jolted Thor awake. The first thing his eyes landed on was a vision. Deep brown eyes that he could sink into, lighter hair that whipped about a face that could pass as Æsir and framed by light.

And then the moment passed. Thor looked around and realized that his friends and Mjölnir were nowhere nearby. Thor scrambled to his feet and called Mjölnir as the woman's attention shifted to the landing site under their feet. "HAMMER!" Thor's voice came back to him as the woman called to her companion, a shorter woman with darker hair. Thor frowned as his call registered. Hammer was merely part of Mjölnir's name. "HAMMER!" he called again as the woman he woke to pulled something rectangular from a pouch and held it over the ground.

"Dude, we can tell you're hammered," the second woman said. The odd expression made Thor realize that they spoke a language that he had never encountered. "It's pretty obvious." Thor wondered why he had understood the first woman before he woke. The All-speak needed line-of-sight to engage.

"HEIMDELL!" Thor called as strange music emanated from the rectangular object. "FATHER!" Thor roared as a memory came to him of his father on Nidavellir. The title came out in the native tongue. Thor frowned. At his age switching back and forth between All-speak and the Æsir tongue should be effortless.

"Erik, I'm going to have to call you back," the first woman spoke into her device. "That subtle aurora exploded and I need to document—"

"FATHER! HEIMDELL! OPEN THE BIFROST!" Thor stepped back and watched the sky as nothing happened. With Heimdall's all-seeing eyes, the gatekeeper should understand the request in any tongue.

The first woman turned to the second. "Take him to the hospital. I'll sta—"

"No way! He's huge and—"

"HEIMDALL!" Thor roared.

"Just some guy who had an accident."

"OPEN! THE! BIFROST!"

"It's fine, Erik. Just get out here. I'll have my new intern, Marcy—"

"DARCY!"

"Pick you up."

"PLEASE!" Thor begged. The sky above Thor stayed closed and the wind calmed.

"YOU!" Thor strode toward the shorter woman. "Where is this?"

"Uh," the woman stepped back. "New Mexico?" Her words did little to answer his question.

"What realm—?" Thor stopped his advance as the woman produced what looked like a miniature version of the pellet throwers the Lupnar used. "YOU DARE THREATEN THOR, SON OF ODIN WITH SUCH A PUNY—"

Two wires leapt out of the device. Before Thor could react, pain raced through him as every muscle cramped. The pain blocked his ability to think. As his vision turned white, he felt himself fall.

Unlike the Dvergar stun-spell, the device the short woman used on him had fewer aftereffects. Thor felt sore, but not nearly as much as he did when he first woke in Nidavellir's holding cells. In fact, his head hurt less than when he first woke up in this desert.

Thor jerked fully awake as he sensed someone's approach. He found one of his captors approaching with an odd weapon—round with a flimsy-looking metal blade no larger than a fyr tree's needle. It looked as harmless as the weapon that felled him.

"Relax," the man said as Thor pulled his arm away. "We just want to take some blood."

"How dare you attack the son of Odin!" Thor shouted as he shoved the man away. Thor stood and punched another man as he spotted the door.

More guards—torturers?—approached Thor as he sought his escape. Thor fought them, but to his surprise, he had trouble. A few grabbed him. They slammed him against a glass window and something stung his rear. A figure in the prison's hall caught Thor's attention.

"Loki," he breathed. Then the blond turned, his resemblance to the long-missed face hidden. Exhaustion sprang upon Thor. Brother, Thor thought as he felt himself fade. You must feel so alone…

"YOU DARE CRITICISE ME?" Thor roared. "I KNOW ABOUT LOKI! HOW COULD YOU LEAVE HIM TO—"

A slap across his face cut Thor's words off. Thor gaped. His father had never physically struck him before.

"YOUR BROTHER'S FAILINGS DON'T EXCUSE YOUR OWN!" Odin roared.

"Failings?" Thor said, suddenly bereft of the energy to shout. "That's what you call… You're a fool."

The rage in his father's eye turned to uru. "Yes," Odin said. "I was a fool. To ever think you were ready." In an instant his demeanor lost any trace of Thor's father and only the king of Asgard stood before him. "Thor Odinsson, you are unworthy…"

The memory Thor had lacked earlier ran through his head as he pretended that he still slept. From the movement around him, Thor's ruse was successful. Before long, he was left alone. Thor opened eyes and stared at the bland ceiling. He had caught enough conversation while he feigned sleep to know it a place of healing rather than a prison. Though to rely on something as primitive as stealing blood…

Thor pushed that thought out of his head. Whether or not the place had done him any good, Thor's head had cleared of the fog that had filled it upon his arrival. Some gaps remained in his memory of Nidavellir, but Thor could reason clearly. He would worry about where his father had sent him after he escaped this place. A cautious look around confirmed that he was alone.

And, to his pleasant surprise, the room could not be easily seen into.

Thor jerked his arms up. The restraints held. Disbelief flooded Thor. He felt no magic from the binds, so he should have snapped them with little effort. Had his father made him into a weakling? Thor's vision blurred at the thought. No! I will not allow it! Thor continued to strain against his bonds. He would not spend his life locked up like the madman the healers took him for.

With time, Thor managed to pull one arm out of its restraint. He quickly freed the other arm and stood. The uniform these folks garbed their insane with looked to be thought up by an inmate: a flimsy tunic with an open back and no other attire. It made an odd sense. Only a lunatic would wear such garb, so it would be easy to spot an escapee.

Thor slipped over to the door and studied the hallway. Healers and patients both could be seen moving about, but at the edge of Thor's vision, a sign suggested a changing room. When the hall cleared, Thor easily stole his way across. To Thor's pleasure, he quickly found a healer's uniform—not that sturdier than the tunic, but at least they covered enough to block the chill air.

One wall sported coded map of the building, and Thor memorized it before he left the room. Thor slipped out a side entrance without trouble. He started to explore the settlement when something hit his back. Thor fell to the ground, winded. As he pushed himself up, he heard footsteps.

"I swear, I'm not doing this on purpose."

"Father's watching him. I saw one of his ravens outside the hospital."

"Huginn or Muninn?"

"Doesn't matter. Neither of them could have missed my probe. Father'll know soon enough that I fled to Midgard. Unless Heimdall recognized my magic. Then Father already knows, and the odds are that half the court does too. Bloody gossiping Einherjar..."