A/N: New chapter is UP! I decided that writing Loki is way to much fun, and I couldn't possibly quit after just one chapter. A huge thank you to all of you who read my first chapter, and an even bigger thanks to those who followed, favorited, and reviewed. Please tell me what you think of the story so far and feel free to leave any comments, questions, or suggestions in a review! Thank you!
I managed to produce a second-rate glamour before the energy of the Bifrost dissipated. It was a mediocre piece of work. The edges were a bit blurred, and a few of my features peaked through here and there, but it was the best I could manage at my current position.
As soon as the portal closed, I was surprised to see Heimdall standing with his sword and his golden armor. He blinked at me. If he was surprised at all, he hid it very well. "Loki," he said flatly.
Of course Heimdall would be able to see through my illusion. I allowed the form to flicker and die, leaving my true appearance, chest wound and everything. I was leaning heavily on Bjarni's staff. My face was slick with sweat and I felt rather faint. "Hello, Heimdall," I panted. "Lovely evening, isn't it?"
While Heimdall carefully kept emotion from his face, his eyes were locked onto the giant gash in the middle of my chest. "What exactly happened?" he asked.
I ignored his question and asked one of my own. "They're still letting you work the Bifrost?" I said.
Then, at least, he allowed himself a smirk. "I'm the only one who knows how." He raised an eyebrow. "Now I ask again, Loki, what happened to you?"
In response, I only grinned before collapsing onto the ground.
As I expected, he didn't help me back up. "You're dying," he stated.
"How very observant of you," I grunted painfully. "I'll be dead in a few moments if I don't get help."
"Two guards went into the Bifrost. What happened to them?" Heimdall asked.
"What do you think happened?" I hissed angrily. I was running out of patience, and time. He didn't respond, so I tried a different approach. An approach that would appeal to Heimdall's stiff and honor-obsessive personality. "Heimdall, please," I said. "Please, help me."
He hesitated a moment before walking down to me, leaving his sword in the lock. "I know a healer," he said. "She lives not far from here, and she owes me a few favors. If I ask her to keep your survival a secret, she will do so." He looked at me, pathetically lying on the floor, before saying, "You will not be able to go to her in that form. Can you manage another illusion?"
"In my sleep," I answered weakly. I slid back into the image I was wearing moments ago. The amount of strength needed to use magic and continue breathing left me in a decrepit condition, however. I barely managed to climb to my feet, and as soon as I did, I stumbled once more, only to be caught by Heimdall.
"You can lean on me," he said gruffly, leading me out of the dome-shaped building.
"Much obliged," I huffed. Progress was slow. Heimdall basically had to carry me as I drifted in and out of consciousness. I vaguely remembered stumbling through the streets, walking past buildings that were destroyed during the attack a few days prior. I remembered some strange looks from Asgardians and Heimdall hissing in my ear, "Loki! You have to concentrate. Keep your illusion up. We are almost there."
Then, I was awake on a long, stone table. I tried to sit up, but a pang went through my chest, and I could only grunt and lie back down.
"You have to pace yourself, Loki. You were mortally wounded," said a sudden female voice. I turned my head to see a fair-faced woman standing in a doorway. Her long auburn hair was woven into a long braid that extended down her back, past her hips. She was garbed in a simple blue dress with the protection symbol Algiz embroidered on her breast. She stared at me with stony grey eyes, her expression harsh.
"I assume you're Heimdall's friend?" My voice was hoarse and barely audible, yet she was somehow able to hear my question.
She nodded. "I am, though right now I wish that I wasn't," was her unfriendly reply.
I chuckled weakly. "I don't doubt that you do." I lifted my head a tad to see that I was dressed only in my trousers. My entire torso was wrapped in white silken bandages. My chest felt uncomfortably numb, but that at least was better than the pain.
"My name is Ingrid," said the woman, stepping towards me. She held a small glass of water in her hand, and made to lift my head and feed it to me herself, but I raised my hand.
"Thank you, Ingrid, but I think I can manage this myself," I rasped. She nodded and handed me the glass. I hadn't realized how parched I was until after the glass was drained. I eyed the empty cup and said, "May I ask how long I've –"
"Three hours," she replied sourly. "I tried to heal you as quickly as possible. The sooner you leave this place, the better."
I nodded in understanding. Naturally, Heimdall's friend would be a little bitter about housing a fugitive. I hadn't exactly been expecting a master bed and hot cakes. "When will I be able to leave?" I asked.
"Right now," she responded automatically. I raised an eyebrow at her, and she reluctantly added, "I suppose it would be wiser for you to rest more, but I wouldn't…"
"No," I said, straining to sit up. "No, you're right. Besides, there is some business that I have in the palace."
This caused the healer to start. "The palace? You can't be serious," she said.
"Completely." I winced when I lowered my legs off the table, my hand travelling to the bandages covering my chest. "The Allfather is still waiting for word from the scouting party."
Ingrid sniffed. "I assume he'll never receive it."
I had to grin. "Oh, he'll receive it. From me."
The healer drew herself up and gave me a look that could only be described as complete loathing. "How many Asgardian lives must you take until you are satisfied, Loki?"
I didn't answer, but slid down from the table, the muscles in my chest stretching painfully. "You wouldn't happen to know where my clothes are, would you?" I asked.
At this, Ingrid snorted. "You been those blood-soaked rags you dragged in with you? I disposed of them."
I felt a stab of annoyance. "And what exactly am I supposed to wear then?"
At this, Ingrid gave me a smile. "You could borrow one of my dresses if you like," she suggested innocently.
I scowled. She had obviously been looking forward to this. I needed to disguise myself in the stolen armor in order to enter the palace. I was half tempted to just wear the armor over my bare skin, but the rational part of my brain objected. The sharp metal would shred up both my bandages and my wound, plus seriously bruise my arms and neck. So I simply returned the healer's sweet smile and replied, "That would be very kind of you."
This seemed to cheer her just a tad. She exited the room and returned a few moments later with a long, emerald green dress in her arms. The bodice was embroidered with pink and red flowers, and tiny crystal beads were stitched along the end of the sleeves. She handed the ornate gown to me carefully. "I thought this color would suit you best," she remarked, the barest hint of a snicker in her voice. "Just be sure to return it when you're done."
"Why, thank you, Ingrid," I said graciously, accepting the dress. I considered it for a moment before tearing off the entire bottom half of the gown. I pulled at a loose string and the intricate pattern of flowers unraveled instantly. Then, I ripped the ends of the sleeves off, the beads tinkling together as a few landed on the floor. With all of that done, the dress now looked like a simple green tunic.
I handed the bundle of fabric and thread to Ingrid, the smile still on my face. "I'll send the other half to you when I can," I said kindly. The healer accepted the pile with her mouth agape, and she stared stupidly at the shredded cloth as I pulled the shirt over my head, grimacing at the painful tug it caused in my chest. I walked to the doorway of the chamber and saw the golden armor laid out carefully on a nearby table.
Dressing myself this time was not nearly as painful as it had been before, but still I had to work slowly and carefully to avoid the majority of the pain.
As I headed towards the door, I stopped and asked, "Heimdall didn't happen to leave any –"
"There is a craft waiting for you outside," said Ingrid. She was still staring at the remains of her dress in shock. "Just take it and go, traitor. Never visit me again."
There was that word again. Traitor. It made me feel sick. All that I had done, I had done for the good of Asgard and its people. In most ways, I was more loyal to the realm than any of its inhabitants, and I was a bloody frost giant! I knew that my actions were treasonous to the Allfather, but traitor? That was a nasty word, and one that didn't even fit me.
Ingrid threw me a poisonous look. "You're still here, traitor?" she said.
My lips tightened into a thin straight line. "I'll be on my way, then," I said. I gave a mock bow. "Thank you again for the dress." Then, I conjured another glamour and made my way outside.
I could tell from my surroundings that I was in the Southeastern Province of Asgard. In the distance, I could see the brilliant towers of the palace. The sun had already fallen beneath the horizon, and the dark of night seemed to swallow the world. I saw the craft parked to my left and climbed on board.
There was plenty of light to drive by from the lamps and torches that lined the streets. I started the craft, and it hummed to life, slowly lifting off from the ground. I flew it towards the palace, deep in thought, wondering if Odin would mourn his son's death.
