Author's note: I really want to thank cara-tanaka/Sara for her help and her corrections. You're too kind!


Chapter 2: Silent steps

No one was aware of his presence.

He walked with silent steps into the relics chamber, where testaments of ancient victories laid forgotten in the dark. The walls seemed to whisper old tales of glory and heroic acts that were now no more than faraway legends. Just a few remembered, in these last few centuries of peace; the war was impressed only in the oldest Æsir's wrinkles, only in the stories passed down from grandfather to grandson. No one knew how close the war had been to Asgard in the recent months.

Loki slowed down his breathing, removing these last thoughts from his mind. He was now just a shadow, a breathless, weightless being, gliding in the mortal silence of the room without even a glimpse of his conscience, because a simple thought would have been enough to reveal his presence and to activate the defensive mechanism the All-Father himself had devised for the chamber.

It was only an instant, and the thought of Odin almost made him lose control. He thinned his lips, because he could still feel a red hot grudge against his fake father. He still hated that horrible moment when all had appeared so clear and the truth had been revealed as painfully as an open wound – and the wound he had received that day was still spilling blood inside his heart. Maybe it would never heal. But his control didn't falter: he had been training for months for this day, so he wouldn't fail.

Keeping his concentration, he reached the pedestal where the Casket of Ancient Winter had been moved after his attempt to destroy Jotunheim. There was something in it that attracted him and repelled him at the same time. It was through the Casket that he had discovered the truth, how all of his life had been based on a lie. But the Casket belonged to him, he could feel its call.

For a moment he froze, divided between the Asgard prince he had impersonated all his life and his own nature, between the desire to possess a power no one could use better than him and the fear of seeing his light pink skin dissolving into blue, revealing the monster beneath his Æsir appearance.

His breathing started to accelerate.

They were all fools; the court which despised him without even knowing the truth, the ones that had deceived him since he was an infant, Odin, who had stared at him with a disappointed gaze – and he hated him, he hated the All-Father so much that the air seemed like a fire inside his lungs. Also Thor, his not-brother, that stupid oaf who had that wounded expression when they had fought near the Bifrost and, later, on Midgard.

Just a bunch of fools.

They had hidden a monster, with a spell based on lies and fake sentiments, and now that the spell had vanished they were surprised that the monster acted like one.

A disturbance all around him drove him to regain control: he closed off his mind from all his memories, aligned his conscience with the pulsating magic which protected the artifacts and melt hims elf with the chamber, erasing again every sound, smell or thought that could be perceived.

Jotun or Áss, truth or lie, it didn't matter anymore, not now.

What mattered was the power, the freezing energy in front of him, something cold and reassuring at the same time, like it were the crib he didn't remember. Soon there would be a war and he needed all the weapon he could find.

He smiled while he was taking the Casket and he couldn't stop a single triumphant thought, as sharp as one of his knives, dissipating his invisibility spell that had hidden him even from Heimdall's gaze.

I've come to take what is rightfully mine, All-Father.

And his laugh reverberated in the chamber even after he vanished, while Odin, sitting on his throne, opened his eyes with an horrified expression.


It had almost been a month since then.

A month since the Casket had disappeared, a month since Loki had been able to enter in the relics chamber, overcoming the guards and the spell which protected that place, to steal one of the most powerful artifacts in Asgard's possession. A month since he had been called back by his father to investigate.

In the last weeks, he hadn't had any success. Loki had vanished, maybe he was hiding in Midgard, maybe in one of the other Realms, and he feared for the other Avengers if his brother decided to attack them while he was in Asgard.

Loki was extremely dangerous even unarmed, but with the Casket he would have been unstoppable for his mortal friends – and, like any other times when he thought about the battle against the Chitauri, Thor wondered why his brother had surrendered so easily, without causing too much damage.

He shook his head.

Even if he was worried for his shield brothers and for Jane, there was Heimdall who watched over and guarded the Midgardians in his stead, and now he just had to concentrate for his father's summon.

He walked along the palace hall without even noticing the greetings and the friendly words from the people he passed by. He was sure that Odin wanted to talk about Loki and, as it always happened when his brother was involved, he couldn't think about anything else.

A wrinkle appeared on his forehead.

He was angry at his brother, but he felt his loss like a constant pain. It was like his happy childhood, the laughs, the joy of his youth had all been torn from him, now that Loki had disowned him as a brother and acted like a stranger.

And he felt guilty, because he feared to not have tried hard enough. He had never tried hard enough to preserve their bond, because now he knew that he had been too arrogant to notice how cruel all the "know your place, brother" and the mockeries about his magic had been. And he hadn't been able to avoid his fall, when they were on the shattered Bridge, nor had he succeeded in convincing Loki to listen to him, during their fights on Midgard.

Loki had his own faults, he wouldn't deny it. But Loki would always be his brother and he knew that he himself wasn't utterly faultless either.

As soon as he reached the throne where Odin sat, he knelt, shifting his gaze between his father and his mother.

"Father, why have you summoned me?" he asked, before standing again at his signal.

For just one second, Odin's gaze seemed belonging to a tired old man, instead of the king of Asgard.

"Heimdall has perceived an energy similar to the Tesseract. On Midgard."

Thor stared at his father with wide eyes, while his heart beat so fast he thought Odin could hear it.

"Is the Tesseract...?"

If Loki succeeded in taking the Tesseract, after already having taking the Casket, maybe even he, with Mjolnir and all the other Avengers, wouldn't be able to stop him.

Odin shook his head.

"It is still safe in Asgard. But there is a mortal who showed a power he should not possess, so you are to go face him."

Thor nodded.

"And... what about Loki?"

"He's still shielding himself from Heimdall's gaze but he won't have missed this energy's emission." Odin's voice and expression became tired again. "I'm sure you'll cross his path if you are fast enough."

Thor nodded a second time. He couldn't wait to have another confrontation with his brother. Another chance to bring him back to Asgard, where maybe he could forgive him and be forgiven, to find again the Loki he once knew.

He bowed to his father, but as he was about to leave the room, he heard light steps behind him.

"Thor."

Faking a smile which didn't reach his eyes, he turned to face his mother.

"Don't lose your hope. Even if he seems lost to us, he can still be saved, remember that, my son." Frigga's hand stroked lightly his cheek, and for a moment Thor allowed himself to believe that all would go well "Bring your brother home."


He woke up when the silence he was used to was broken by an explosion of unexpected noises. In a room not too far from his prison, guns were shooting, people were screaming in rage and agony, bodies were falling down, one after another, and he heard some orders being shouted in a panicked German that proved who was winning out there. And while he was listening to the fight, he didn't even tense or prepare to participate in the battle.

When all was silent again, he looked up at the steel door of his cell. After all these days, it seemed the other Avengers had found him; but now he was wondering if he really wanted to be saved. He didn't expect their arrival with hope or joy, nor with desire for vengeance, because he knew he didn't deserve their help.

"Iron Man... help... me."

He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to forget who he was, while in the dark of his mind he could recognize twisted bodies, terrified faces and so much blood that it would forever stain his hands. Then a light rustle caught his attention, because he didn't hear any footsteps or voices, nor the door creaking open.

"Stark? This is truly a surprise." He heard a silken voice somewhere in front of him. A voice that sounded quite familiar, even if not reassuring at all.

He abruptly opened his eyes again, recognizing a tall figure towering over him. But it wasn't one of his friends, as he had thought; it seemed the other Avengers had yet to find this place.

While the well-known intruder was staring at him, silent and menacing after the first question, Tony didn't even try to stand up or to put up a resistance. He just bowed his head, looking at the floor, and waited for the end.