"To him who is in fear everything rustles." - Sophocles


Chapter Three


In the days following Loki's decision to bring Thor and Jane to Asgard, there was a sort of strange sense of unease that overcame him. As he walked the halls of the palace, or sat on the throne to hold court, or took his meals in the feasting hall, he was constantly rolling over his plan in his mind. His sleep was still disturbed and restless, but Loki had never been an easy sleeper. He remembered as a child when he was so plagued by nightmares he would stay up for weeks at a time; only when he was starting to see ghosts in his eyes and stopped being entirely able to tell the difference between reality and dreams would he finally succumb to slumber. He had asked his mother to explain this, once, he recalled. "My mind is playing tricks on me, mother," he had said. "I see things that aren't there." And she looked at him, took in his exhausted face and bloodshot eyes, and she reached out to pat his head. "Little Loki, when you refuse sleep your mind shows you the dreams you didn't allow it at night."

Little Loki. She always called him that, even after he wasn't so little anymore. And now, he'd never hear her call him that again.

He sat on the golden throne, simply for a place to rest. Court was over for the day and the hall was basically empty - only a few scattered guards here and there filled it, and they were still as statues. Loki allowed himself to relax minutely.

He then thought of his plan. Would it really work? He considered every angle, as always when making a decision. If Jane succeeded, and was awarded the Apples, what if they decided to stay on Asgard? He wondered what Thor would do if that were the case - would he still be content as a "good man", as he put it, or would he look to the throne with intentions of being a "great king"? With frustration, Loki found that he didn't truly know. He thought of Jane - but all he could do was scramble up a picture of her face in his mind, slapping him in the face with such a ferocity that he had found entertainment with at the time. But he knew so little about her, and once more he found himself at a dead end.

If Jane didn't succeed, he would be required by Asgardian law to erase her memory and cast her out. He wondered then what Thor would do - certainly he would be in no shape to claim the throne, at least for a time. But then what? Would he get over her quickly? Would he take solitude and travel?

Loki felt like he was missing something, and he began to grow irate.

He thought of everything again, and again, and again, until he was ready to claw at himself in frustration - or desperation. He even thought once that what he had done to begin with was such a terrible, ill-thought out idea - throwing Odin in a cell and assuming the throne in his form - but then he grit his teeth and almost shouted, I am a king. I deserve this. This is mine!

For the first time in over two months on the throne, Loki found himself feeling a sense of doubt that he had not felt before - not since Jötunheim, anyway. He looked down at his hand, Odin's hand, remembering his own that slowly turned to blue. He remembered the fear, the uncertainty, the questions. What am I? He had asked myself. And then out loud, Am I cursed?

You are my son, Odin had replied. Loki bit back the growl that threatened to escape at the memory of his voice. It was so like Odin to state a lie as if it were truth - so like him to assume that he could command reality with only his words. What Odin wanted, he took. How could it be so surprising that Loki was the same in that aspect?

And then he looked down at the hand that wasn't his once more, thinking of his act. The scramble for keeping his power now that he had it in the form of his plan, and the terrible sense of fear that was not threatening, but promising to consume him if his plan did not work.

Loki was born a Jötunn, taken in by Odin and somehow given the form he had grown up in - a true Asir in every sense: physically, mentally, emotionally. He had wondered many times since discovering his true heritage exactly how his skin had changed from ice to ivory; his eyes from fire to the blue only found on the clearest of days. Was it something Odin did himself, some sort of magic that not even Loki could name, or something he did as Odin held him for the first time, in efforts to protect himself from the conflict, an instinctual attempt to blend in? For not even now could Loki summon forth his true form, the form of the unimaginably frightening frost giant that he knew lurked somewhere deep inside.

Then he thought of his life, growing up as a prince, living the lie that this was who he was. That Odin was his father, Thor his brother, and Frigga…he closed his eyes at the thought of her; her glowing presence and encouragement. He thought of the easy way, as a child, in which he had always looked to her when he could look nowhere else. Now that he was grown, he knew he had taken all of her for granted. She may not have been his real mother, but somehow that fact did not sting nearly as much as the knowledge of Odin not being his real father. She did not have to agree to adopting a frost giant, but she did. He may not have grown in her womb, but she always treated him as if he had, even after he had returned from Midgard in chains. But the look on Odin's face had made him blind to all of it. Odin had cast him into a cell to spend the rest of his days - and if Malekith had not awoken from his slumber by the stirring of the Aether, Loki would surely still be there.

It was no wonder, really, that he was as he was. Lies, manipulation, deceit. Control, bitterness, and rage.

Trust my rage, Loki had told Thor. He had asked Thor to do something not even he could do himself. He considered his position. He was living as Odin, that was fact. He was constantly forced day in and day out to act as Odin, speak as Odin. He knew it was part of the deal he had made for himself – to rule, he had to make some sacrifices, but he was beginning to forget what it meant to be himself. He was boiling with rage, even now, and only years of mastered self-control kept it from exploding and destroying everything within reach. And rage was the only thing he knew, since the day Thor had stormed to Jötunheim demanding it pay for something Loki had caused.

The irony would have been sweet, if it didn't sting so much.

Loki held his breath and told himself that it was time to move past this, for now. He was simply wasting time going over these same thoughts - surely, he had plenty of time for most of them as a prisoner. He stood from the throne and picked up Gungnir, trying to enjoy the feeling of commanding such a weapon. He thought bitterly that it had felt much better when it was Frigga who had given it to him, after Odin fell into his Odinsleep. The circumstances were difficult, yes; he was freshly wounded by Odin's concession but strangely heightened by his newfound power. He had never realized just how much he longed for the throne until he finally sat upon it.

He stood up straight and realized with conviction just what he had to do. He left the hall, quickening his steps as he went, making his way to the Bifrost.

()()()

Loki barely noticed the heat from the sun on his back as he made his way across the Bridge with haste.

Of course, he couldn't walk as fast as he liked - Odin's form was not nearly as quick as his and he had an image to uphold. He did not take in any of the sights as he walked; the beauty of Asgard itself was lost to him this day. He had only one intention, and that was to view Thor and Jane before he made his decision.

He was hoping to get a glimpse of Jane, particularly. He wanted to see her behavior, in efforts to judge her character a little closer. Loki misliked not knowing things, especially about people. There was no power to be had over someone he did not understand.

As he approached the observation deck of the Bifrost, he slowed his pace. He knew it made no difference because Heimdall certainly knew his hurry. Loki almost faltered entirely when he realized he had not thought of how he would explain this to Heimdall. He brushed through his mind, trying to fit words into an explanation that made sense. He knew he had to be careful with what he said, lest he gave something away that Heimdall's quick eyes and ears would catch.

What happened? Silver tongue turned to lead?

Loki did not know why Heimdall made him so nervous. Perhaps it was the way he looked at him, as if his eyes could pick through his brain like an idle hand would pages of a book. He remembered vividly the look of distrust on Heimdall's face as Loki returned to Asgard from Jötunheim. Heimdall had never truly trusted him, he realized suddenly, and that realization brought more unease in his mind. Heimdall certainly knew his reputation for mischief and tricks, but Loki had never given him a true reason to not trust him.

He felt the unease turn to something more sinister, and Loki forced himself to shut it away. Later, he thought, Some day I will have all the vengeance I could ever want. He did not, however, think of how.

"Good afternoon," Loki greeted him, keeping his face decidedly neutral. Heimdall did not even flinch; his stance did not change. Loki felt a sudden strange sense of admiration toward the man in his seemingly unwavering sense of duty, despite his ill feelings toward him. He also felt anticipation - he remembered his time with the real Odin; revealing himself in his true form for the longest stretch of time yet. Loki wondered what Heimdall would do if he ever found out the truth.

"Good afternoon, Allfather. I saw you coming."

Of course. Loki walked toward Heimdall's post, not this time with haste but with apprehension. He found himself unable to form what he wanted to say. And in his internal battle, Heimdall turned to look at him.

"Do you seek another view of Thor?" he asked, his tone unreadable as always.

"I do," Loki replied, attempting to command his words with precision and purpose. His own words echoed around in his mind, I am a king!

"Allow me a moment."

Silence, and Heimdall closed his eyes. Loki watched with fascination. The magic of the gatekeeper was something beyond what even he could do. An innate magic that is given, not learned. Loki wondered what it was like to close one's eyes and see whatever, whomever one wished to see - and he almost shuddered with lust at the idea of such power.

"I will show you," Heimdall said after a time, and Loki waited for the image.

It appeared, and once again his eye darted to it like a moth to a light. Thor and Jane sat at a table, eating a meal and looking so easily happy. Loki almost started at the realization - it was so starkly different than what he had seen before. They were laughing, talking, drinking, and Loki could see no evidence of loss or grief or sadness in their eyes. He watched Jane's smile, he watched her hands grip the fork and knife and he watched Thor drinking what looked like ale out of a tall, clear glass. He cocked his head, almost forgetting who he was pretending to be, yet still he could not find any answers to the questions he was asking himself. Would Jane triumph? As he watched her make a funny face at something Thor said, he found that he honestly didn't know.

"They look happy," Loki said finally, and the image disappeared.

"They are," Heimdall said simply.

There was a pause as Loki fumbled for something to say. He did not want to go back on his plan now; it was the only thing he could truly think of that would keep Thor from the throne, and even that was still up in the air. He thought once more of the nature of the Room of the Unknown, but found he could not do that, either. He almost balled his fists in frustration, remembering of a time so many years ago when something irritated him beyond control and he would do just that. Back when magic was newly coursing through his veins and he was learning to control it. He felt it now, too, but Heimdall's presence stopped him from unleashing it and Loki looked at him once more.

Heimdall wasn't looking back at him, though. He was staring straight ahead at the sky that stretched as far as the eye could see, out and up over the ocean of Asgard. He thought of how that sky looked at night: the startling expanse of stars and planets and comets and dust. He had never fully appreciated the sight until he had gone to Midgard, where they are not as blessed with such beauty. Especially now with their huge cities and vehicles, pollution and electricity that only dulled what stars they had into almost nothingness.

And finally, he made his decision before he realized it was the decision he had made. When he spoke, his voice sounded foreign in his ears because it was not his own, but of course Odin's, and Loki had almost expected to hear his own tones ringing through the observation deck.

"I have made the decision to bring Thor and Jane to Asgard to give her the test."

If Heimdall felt anything about this statement, he did not show it. Loki did not have to go into specifics; everyone on Asgard knew what the test was. Heimdall simply looked at him, and while he knew he was in Odin's form, it did not make him feel any less nervous. He realized all along that this was the true test; if Heimdall accepted this as an act of Odin and it was not met with suspicion, then perhaps Loki could allow himself to relax a little more.

"Do you wish for me to call him?"

Loki faltered at that; it was not what he expected to hear. Call him? Now?

"No. I will be sending someone to speak with him first. I do not want him to think of this as a punishment."

"Of course. But may I ask…" Heimdall fell silent, trailing off. Loki watched him like a hawk, waiting for the accusations, the distrust.

He grew impatient, but tried to keep his tone light. "Ask, dear Heimdall."

"I do not question your judgment or decision, Allfather. I simply wished to ask what you would do should she fail."

Loki let out a soft sigh, only minute compared to the annoyance he felt. Heimdall's voice was soft, as always, but it did nothing to ease the irritation at his question. First Sif, now Heimdall? The rules of the test were clear and known by all.

"You know the rules. I would be forced -"

"Yes, to cast her out and erase her memories. Pardon my interruption, but sometimes the rules can be broken. I have seen Thor many times these months. He is wounded by the loss of his brother. He is being healed by Jane Foster."

Normally, Loki would have felt a burning anger at being interrupted. He had spent years dealing with it from Thor; he had no intentions of tolerating it now. But Heimdall's point was more important than his own vanity. He considered the man's words, and what they implied.

"Rules can be broken, yes," Loki said thoughtfully. "But the test is a public event."

Heimdall's mouth twitched, and Loki realized he was fighting back the beginnings of a smile.

"It is, you are correct. But as Allfather, you certainly have ways of hiding the things you need to, do you not?"

Loki stared at Heimdall, trying to understand the context of the conversation - something he hadn't had much trouble with pretending to be Odin until now. If Odin had much magic, Loki didn't know of it. He knew Odin had power, and command, and physical strength. He knew he had Gungnir. Gungnir was magical in itself, Loki knew; he had seen Odin use magical elements from it. The night he had banished Thor to Midgard, he had used magic, but it was only the ancient magic of kings; the magic Heimdall speaks of requires focus, energy, thought, and most of all, precision. Only someone trained and skilled could accomplish such a feat. Loki had never known Odin to use such a magic before.

But that might not be entirely true, Loki thought to himself, thinking of his blue flesh on the icy rocks of Jötunheim. What if Odin really had changed Loki that day he found him?

This was monumental. This countered so much of what he thought he knew of Odin. And this could answer so many questions that he had been asking himself since he thought of the idea initially. Jane would not fail, not if he had anything to do with it - and he realized that he knew this all along. That somehow, he would find a way to ensure that she would come out of that room victorious. Loki could almost imagine it perfectly, and he almost let himself smile.

Let's not tempt fate, he thought, and looked to Heimdall once more.

"I suppose I do," Loki finally answered. "But I would that Jane not require magic to pass the test."

"I have seen many brave ones enter that room and then leave it only a ghost of what they were before," Heimdall said, his eyes turning downcast toward the ground, perhaps with a sense of loss at the ones almost promised immortality. Loki found himself puzzled at the sight; he could now barely remember any names of the ones who went through those doors and did not succeed.

"If Jane is given the Apples…" Heimdall started, with the weight of a question that he did not actually ask.

"I would not require them to stay. I simply wish for my son to have as much happiness as he can," Loki said.

Heimdall nodded, and fell silent. Loki found himself wishing he would say more, but it was apparent that Heimdall had no more words left to say. He looked to the sky once more, and made his decision to leave. He did not want to delay the impending arrival any more than he had to.

"Thank you for the vision, dear Heimdall," Loki said finally. "I will be sending someone to Midgard soon. Be on the lookout."

And then he turned and left, once more ignoring the sights of the majesty of Asgard rising before him. He found himself rolling over and over the conversation with Heimdall in his mind - the allusion to magic. More importantly, Odin's magic, which he did not even know existed in the sense of which it was spoken. Jane would certainly not fail, now. Loki would be sure of it.

()()()

Loki heard the sound of Sif's footsteps and turned himself toward the door of his study, where he heard her knock lightly.

"Enter," he said.

The door opened, and Loki watched her come inside and close the door quietly. He did not sit, nor offer her a seat, and she stood some feet away from his desk. And when he met her eyes, she knelt.

"Let's not waste time, rise up," he said, trying to hide the amusement in his voice. She was not wearing her armor but a casual pale orange dress; her face was red as if she had spent too much time in the sun. Sif eyed him apprehensively. He knew that look well and it was often coupled with a question. But her awareness of his stature stopped her - where if he had been just Loki she would have asked as soon as she came through the door.

"I trust you are well?" Loki asked.

"Very well, Allfather," she said uncertainly. He tried to give her a slight smile, but didn't like the way it felt on his face. And so he gave up the pretense.

"I have a request of you," he said.

Her eyes perked and her mouth parted, but she did not speak.

"I ask of you to go to Midgard and bring Thor and Jane Foster back with you."

A pregnant silence followed Loki's words; the only sound to be heard were of his beating heart in his ears. He focused on her reaction, but her face was expressionless. Whatever she felt of his statement, she didn't show it - although when she replied, her voice was hesitant.

"You would give me this task?"

"Yes."

"What would you have me do, should he refuse?"

"I have faith that he won't. But if he does, you may tell him that if he does not come with you, then I will bring him back myself."

Sif's eyes widened, and then she frowned, as if suddenly stricken with an unpleasant thought. Loki gripped Gungnir tightly in anticipation. He did not particularly think that she would refuse to do his bidding, but the apprehension in her responses made it plain to him she did not want to go.

"I will do as you request," she said finally, her mouth forming into a tight smile. Then, "When should I leave?"

"Immediately. I don't wish to prolong this any longer," Loki responded. He refused to feel guilty for sending her to do this - for certainly even after centuries, he knew her heart still held love for Thor. She was the only one who made sense to go, as she was the one who had given him this idea in the first place.

"As you wish, Allfather," Sif replied, and knelt. This time, he felt a strong stab of something like pride, but as always, it quickly dissipated. Everything I want, he thought, And still I cannot relish the moment.

She rose, unsmiling, and left the study, leaving him in solitude. Loki turned to the window, staring into the blinding light of day, slowly fading into dusk. He watched Asgard sparkle and shimmer, and allowed himself a small smile, but letting it drop as quickly as it came. It hadn't reached his eyes, and he wondered by he had even bothered at all.


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