This inspiration will dry up eventually and then chapters will come at a much slower pace. Eventually. Theoretically I will be studying for an exam and you won't hear from me in the next...four days, preferably a week. (But we all know how that may go).
To all reviewers, followers, and favorites: You humble me. Ich danke Ihnen.
Hawkz
What Might Have Been: Chapter IV
Teenagers are the worst.
Snarky, sarcastic guttersnipes who steal the affection of his wolf, ignore him in the hallways, duck out the back door to avoid him entering a room, and—in the greatest of all trespasses—use up all the syrup for themselves so his pancakes must go without! (That he could order more promptly from the kitchens is beside the point. It's the principal of the thing.) Three days Loki suffered these atrocities and if nicotine did anything for him his room would be black as a chimney, pipe at his mouth. He made do with pacing. His celebrated return was the following day—looks like one certain mortal had as bad a sense of time as he when cooped up in the orrery.
Frigga learned what he did to that building—tattletale—and Loki, just shy of a millennium old, sulked in one of his mother's chairs like he was only a tricentennial. His mother lounged across from him looking every bit the Queen and mother of his more youthful memories. It was unfair how she used the silence against him. His jaw clicked around, his words sounding petulant.
"She wouldn't come out. Not my fault."
The Queen set down her drink with barely a chink. "Yes, I believe the wards made it quite clear she wanted to be left alone." A niggling amount of guilt did eat at her for sending her son away in the first place. A representative needed to be sent to Vanaheim and the only viable choices were Thor or Loki. Ambassadorships were long only by Midgardian senses; the Aesir found a few years in another realm a very short time. Loki had a way with words Thor has yet to, and may never, achieve. He would more likely insult his hosts, if unknowingly. Odin wanted Loki and Frigga thought very, very hard about the downsides of a minor war with Vanaheim in return for keeping her son and daughter close. Odin's wife never liked it when Queen duties came before her duties as a mother. Often she threw aside royal duties, realm be damned, for her children and family. One of the few times she acted as queen instead of mother and Frigga feared she caused irreparable damage between Loki and Jane. She had faith in Jane; her daughter had a very sweet heart. Loki, however…
"It's not my fault."
Frigga sighed. Loki could—did—have his father's stubbornness and a deep-rooted visceral vehemence to admitting his wrongs. More times than she could count Frigga wanted to roll her eyes at her boys but Loki didn't learn just magic from her. The Queen's face was pleasant and cool of any frustration her children caused her (she did not have these wrinkles and gray hairs from just age).
"Yet your second shadow is not in the vicinity." Nor was Fenrir. Loki huffed and crossed his arms in front of him, resembling a youthful boy getting a wag of the finger.
"Odin couldn't have sent another?" A look of pain passed the Queen's face and Loki caught just the edges before it smoothed over.
"You have duties as Prince of Asgard, Loki. You know this."
"Funny how I don't see Thor doing much of these 'princely duties'." His spite was bubbling to the surface. He must be feeling rather indignant to speak of his brother with her. Most often they don't talk of Thor.
"You did leave without even saying goodbye. You could have at least done that courtesy to your sister."
"I don't even always bid farewell to you! Why should that change now?" Nervous temper made him jumpy and Loki was no longer sitting down, but standing and glaring down at his mother. "Why would you even bring a mortal to Asgard? She'll be old the next time I close my eyes and reopen them. Then she's gone! Why bother bringing her into this house at all?" While not a shout, his voice rose in volume until the Queen heard the unspoken tremors.
Because I love you so much. Because I love you and I want you to find some semblance of happiness but I wonder and very much fear I have set you on a path leading to greater despair. "Loki, you are not without fault in this." Her son scoffed at such an idea. "You cannot always apply Asgardian customs to a Midgardian. You may wrestle with Thor but you know better than to use that strength against your sister. You and Thor went through the same process, have you forgotten? One of you would say something mean or vicious in a flash of emotion, the other would take it to heart and the rift remained until the other apologized and settled the matter. Sometimes the apologies were verbally and sometimes through actions, but there were apologies, nonetheless."
As children, it was usually Loki who suffered the broken heart from something someone said or did. It was almost a cruel irony that now he caused another pain and suffered it's consequences. His mother's touch was soft on his cheek. "Oh, my son. I know you love Jane. And she you. Do not torment the two of you by letting this divide fester. But take caution: She is going to be a Midgardian teenager for the next five seasons or so. She'll have a flair for the dramatic more than usual. It'll be like you and Thor going through puberty, but shorter." Thank Odin for that.
It wouldn't taste much different from bitter medicine but Loki needed to swallow his pride to get back his relationship with Jane otherwise he was going to be dealing with a lot more wards and a lot more temper tantrums.
"So. This fella threatened to jus' burst right through one o' my wards, huh?" Wizard Yogul eyed his customer suspiciously. His wards were premium products. People don't just walk right through them. Not intact anyway.
"Mr. Yogul, this feller is my brother. Loki. Prince of Asgard and asshole extraordinaire. He does a lot of things to the consternation of the people around him. Plus, he's wickedly talented at magic." Jane sat on the stool in front of the wizard, sipping a hot beverage. It was getting nippy outside and the clouds threatened snow any day now, possibly this evening. Yogul's tongue clicked the pencil around his mouth. He had more holes where teeth should have been, which gave his words a slight slur. A perpetual stubble of prickly white hair peppered his sagging jawline and the thinned out hair on top added to his image of 'old wizard'. The pencil danced around in his mouth, sticking out one side of his mouth where his left canine used to be. He managed a whistle.
"Well lookie you, lassie. 'Ad I known you was a hotshot, I'd 'ave charged double." He wouldn't. He's too fond of pretty customers and Wizard Yogul was always saying things he never planned to do. Jane gave him a lopsided smile. "But I kin see y'like ano-nym-ity." The wizard tapped his nose and winked at the girl. "Secret's safe lassie. For a price."
"You're incorrigible. And married." Yogul still leaned his cheek over the counter, waiting. Speaking of married…
"You lazy mule, what are you doing bothering customers? I see you chasing skirts and you'll be with a bad back for weeks sleeping on the couch." His wife's presence filled up the room as did the volume of her voice despite being on the second floor.
"Better'n sleeping next to a fat old hag who snores, keeping me up anyways." His wife's curses were both creative and colorful. He turned to wink at Jane. "Tha's how y'keep life interesting, lil' one. She'll be keeping me awake for diff'rent reasons t'night."
Jane flushed red. Yogul and his wife loved one another but they had an unorthodox way of showing affection. Legs curled up underneath her, she took another sip. Yogul puffed out a series of short bursts, a telltale sign her was thinking. His fingertips drummed against one another, his pencil clacking around his mouth.
"Any magician good enough can get past most wards. This princely fella kin get past maybe all wards cuz he strong like bull. So," Yogul's smile took a turn towards demonic. "We jus' 'ave to make 'him work fer it. Y'see?"
Jane looked up from her drink, startled. "You can do that?" The wizard took mock offense. "The Great Yogul kin do much, lil' one." His scratchy cheek got a chaste peck and a glowing smile from his customer. "You're the best, Mister Yogul." The old man positively glowed.
"Ha! Did y'see that, hag? I still got it!"
"Good! Now come up here and let me give it to you, you old crotchety gizzard of a wizard!"
Maybe Jane should take that as her cue to leave…
She headed for the castle. In the month leading up to Loki's return—yes, she knew he was returning and made a point to remain in the orrery—her mother made her promise to be there for the celebration. Messengers came nearly everyday, sometimes twice, to relay: "Lady Jane, your mother wishes tell you your presence is required for your brother's, Prince of Asgard, celebrated return." She had the wards up for a reason. At least Garikith would be there; he was always courteous and fun to talk to. She loved hearing his stories of Alfheim. However, the tediousness and time-consuming nature of getting ready for the ball had as much appeal as kissing a Dark Elf. Just. Ick.
Even while lost in thought muscle memory walks her over to her mother's quarters. There was a chiding, loving quality to the tenor of her mother's voice. "Jane, there you are. Come in, come in. We must get you ready." Jane may not yet be thirteen in Midgardian years but she knew favoritism when she saw it.
Do not be mistaken, Frigga loved her daughter and Jane understood that, too, but Loki held a privileged place in the Queen's heart. Their mother babied Jane in ways she didn't with Thor or Loki versus her unconditional love for Loki. That Aesir could attempt world domination and his mother would still love him. For Thor, Frigga would always see him as the strong, reliable son. Thor could break down in tears and never would Frigga think him the lesser man; she trusted him to always get back on his feet whereas Loki often required a helping hand to get back up. They were all her children and occupied the most tender of places in her heart. Thus, this fissure between Loki and Jane, undergone by the two of them with the usual histrionics of youth, called for a mother's touch. If that meant warding them together in part of the castle for an undefined amount of time, then, well, there were times a mother need be meddlesome. (Jane may protest for the first few weeks, but sacrifices must be made.)
Frigga took much longer to dress and coif her hair, Jane sitting on the bed and swinging her legs in the way that said, "I'm young, I'm bored, can we please go now?" Frigga placed a sweet kiss to her temple. "You look beautiful dear."
"Thanks Mom."
"I think Garikith would appreciate the color."
"Mom!"
"He's a very sweet boy. I approve." Jane flushed red. Her mother did not just tell her—subtly in that way her mother does—to go flirt with the Alfheim prince.
"He's just a friend." There was a knowing shadow to her mother's smile and Jane saw the resemblance between her brother and mother. They met Odin just outside the hallway leading to the festivities. Tenderness softened his one good eye. "You look wonderful, love. As do you, little one."
Jane tippy-toed to peck his cheek, though a short bow from Odin may have helped. "Thank you Daddy." She had never quite gotten out of her habit for the more Midgardian colloquialisms but Odin liked the familiarity of them. Thor and Loki were already inside, engaging the guests but an announcement of their arrival had everyone delivering a bow to their king and queen.
Frigga nudged Jane in the back, voice just low enough for Jane's ears alone. "Go welcome your brother home."
A soft flow of Asgardian nobles and elites weaved their way around the prince, giving him compliments. Jane gave Loki honesty: "You look ridiculous."
Loki's smile at his sister teetered on false. "Good evening to you too, sister."
"You look like something out of a Midgardian Christmas pageant." From his confused look, she clarified, "The holiday down there involves reindeer. They're similar to the Dain that wander around Yggdrasil."
"I believe you mistake the Dain reference for Eikthyrnir. What I wear is a symbol of power."
"Isn't that what the cape is for?" Loki ground his teeth. She had sharpened her tongue in his absence, too. On another day that would please him, but for now, he set his gaze on her dress. No green.
"Mother tailored you another dress I see."
"I picked the color." Gold embroidered light blue—that was one way to figuratively give him the middle finger. He donned his political mask.
"Aren't you going to wish your brother home?" Bored disinterest laced his tone, which Jane found odd. This ball was dedicated in his honor, not his brother's, and yet he did not look happy. Like his father he was tall but unlike Odin he would not bow. Jane took hold of his hand and, in a role reversal, kissed the back of it.
"Welcome home brother." Neither were her words cold but neither did they hold all that warmth Loki remembered when she was younger, so her next phrase surprised him. "Thor would be overjoyed if you went to talk with him. He missed you greatly." A tug in his chest wanted him to go, begged him to go. Pride rooted his feet. Jane gave him a pitying smile.
"Pride goeth before a fall, Loki." Loki narrowed his eyes at his sibling. No one gets this wise in two years. She left before he could reply and another well-wisher kept him from following. He smiled at this stranger but out of the corner of his eye he saw Thor. His brother boomed out a laugh yet he sent more than a few glances at Loki's way. He, too, wished to talk with his brother. More meaningless greetings came and went, drowned by drinks and snack-sized bites. Silver tongued, Loki excused himself from his partner and calmed his nerves on the open balcony. People were there, but like him, they sought the quiet and solitude and would not intrude on his brooding. A shadow settled beside him.
"Did you miss it?"
"You've never asked that question before."
Thor kept his gaze on Asgard's capital, the lighting of laterns, shops and homes sprinkling fuzzy gems of muted yellow throughout the streets. "I've never, until Jane came here time did not mean so much to me. You left and I did not think twice about it. The next day Jane was at my door, looking for you. You've been on diplomatic missions before, much more than I, so it seemed only natural to me that you'd eventually disappear on another one. She, she looked very lost when I told her your return was uncertain." He paused to sip his drink and Loki was surprised to find his brother sober.
"I've often slept late and spent my days idle. Maybe it is due to her short lifespan but the times were few and far in between where our sister idled. For half a season she waited at the gate. Rose up with the sun, brought a book and waited. She drew a lot of those sky-sketches of hers. I couldn't understand why she didn't go play or visit the orrery or even watch mother while she wove. Surely her time could be better spent. Sometimes she followed me around the castle, and one time accused me of keeping you locked away for myself." Thor paused and Loki had to reign in his desire to ask Thor to continue. The silence grew and it was only the centuries of discipline that kept Loki from fidgeting. Thor's voice was as subdued as the lights in the town.
"I don't think I ever appreciated how much our sister loves us. With you gone she showed me more affection." So his sister did leave him for Thor. Loki almost growled. "But I passed your quarters once. She looked to me to fill a hole and I failed. I don't think I ever could fill your shoes." His brother gave him a lopsided smile. "I don't think you realize how many of your shirts she stole while you were away. She just recently returned them. Mother thought she'd have to tailor you another wardrobe. Did you know she tried to bribe Heimdall into sending her to Vanaheim?"
"Heimdall? Bribed?" The incredulity in Loki's voice made Thor laugh.
"Indeed. She stole a tankard of ale from one tavern, one of Mother's dresses and Father's tapestry." That tapestry was huge. How did she get it out of the gate without getting caught? How did she carry any of those things being as petite as she is? Thor shrugged his shoulders at the unspoken questions. He knew that tapestry, too. "Our sister is nothing if not clever when put to the test."
Loki did not understand this change in his brother. Nothing he hinted at should result in such a change. Rude, brash Thor, always ready to swing his hammer to solve his problems. Thor wasn't telling him something.
"I missed you brother. When was the last time you and I bonded? Just the two of us? No Sif or Warriors Three, or even without Father and Mother as a buffer? Has it really been that long?" If any asked, Loki would deny the tightness in his throat at Thor's honest inquiry.
"It has been some time," he admitted.
Thor finally turned to look at his brother. "Do you remember when we broke Mother's favorite vase and tried to glue it back together with honey?" Loki could not stifle his laugh at the memory.
If people noticed the princes of Asgard missing from the gala, none suspected them of talking the night away in old memories with fondness and half-hidden smiles and a touch of aged chagrin at particularly embarrassing events of past.
Loki dressed himself with a briskness that flowed into habit. Much unlike his brother and like his sister, Loki did not dally in the mornings. He relished a crisp, clean appearance and a bedhead was not conducive to that image. Jane wasn't at breakfast. Again. Her sulking was getting terribly old.
Odin looked up from his papers as if noticing how quiet it was. "Where has our Jane gone? It has been some time since she broke her fast with us." Frigga bore a suggestive twinkle in her eye.
"Oh, I'm sure Garikith would know."
"The Alfheim prince?"
The Queen nodded. "He and Jane waltzed at the gala yesterday. They looked so cute, Garikith accommodating Jane's stature." The God of Lies hunted his wolf down via mind link. His order was brusque:
Jane. Now.
As it was against Asgardian policy to torture the royalty of other realms, he would have to make do with interrogating his sibling.
The orrery. It seemed almost a waste to send his wolf out just to verify his hunches but he didn't want to waste time hunting Jane down. Not today anyway. No wards either. Good. He marched right through the entryway and looked for the clerk. Not here. Equally good. He wanted no interruptions or visitors. He didn't bother locking the door. Not like Jane could overpower him. Her nose was in a book but gave him a glance from over the pages when she heard his footsteps. She spoke before he could.
"Did you talk with Thor?"
"Indeed I did."
"Good." Quietude settled again. This was a bit of a first for Loki to have to put actual effort in regards to his silver tongue abilities with Jane. He internally cursed teenagers. He decided on gratitude first. Clearly his thanks startled her for she look up at him for a long five seconds, then nodded her head and went back to reading. Loki pursed his lips. He was grateful for the night with Thor but not overly grateful. Not all relationship can be so easily repaired, case in point his and Jane's.
Loki strode over to her, not quite in her personal space but close. "Jane, look at me." There was an asking edge to his voice. Jane did as he quasi-asked. "Why are you angry with me?" One of her fingers fiddled with the corners of the yellowed pages. She would be blunt. Loki may dance around topics and play up his cleverness with ambiguous terms but Jane was not yet thirteen and subtly wasn't her thing.
"You hurt me."
Her brother almost sighed. "I have duties as a prince of Asgard, Jane. You cannot expect me to set aside everything to court to your desires." He said nothing about doing that same thing when it suited his own purposes.
"You didn't even say goodbye." That's it? That's what this is all about? Incredible. Mortals and their customs, Loki scoffed. "I don't live forever, Loki." He did not like that so many people reminded him of this fact. "Dad gets letters from realms all the time. You never wrote to me. Not once. You forgot me, so I forgot you."
Except she hadn't. Loki knew she hadn't from Thor's story and the hurt that colored her tone. She never forgot him; she had deeply missed him and was covering that hurt with brooding. Loki finally let out that sigh bottled in his chest. Kneeling in front of his sister, he had to tilt his head just slightly. Even sitting in a chair she was so short. He did this, once, when she was younger and it was a mock performance. Not this time.
"Jane, I am sorry." Oh yes, pride was a very acerbic pill to stomach. Loki offered her his right hand, palm up. "I promise not to leave without notice, either verbally or a note. If I go anywhere for longer than three days you shall know of it henceforth. I swear upon Mother's name." Jane's eyes were wide. She may love her brother and he spoiled her but Jane was not a stranger to Loki's immense self-regard.
She opened her mouth to reply.
"Jane!" An abrupt turn of her head meant she did not catch the black hatred coloring Loki's visage. He should have soundproofed the building, too. She left him to go to the window. It was Garikith; he waved up at her. "Are you free this afternoon?"
"I…"
"I thought you'd like to have lunch with me." His mask was back in place by the time she moved to face him. Loki said nothing. Uncertainty knitted her brow.
"I'll be down in a minute, Gar."
Gar?
Jane wrung her hands. "Loki?" He tilted his head enough so that she knew he was listening. "Will you be at the castle tonight?" Spite gurgled in the back of his throat and for once, Loki held it down.
"I plan to spend the day in the library, yes," he said.
"Okay, good. I'll see you then." The smile was tiny but it held nothing false nor was it marred by sullen thoughts; it was half a smile she used to give just to him. Progress, then. She moved to collect her things, stuff some papers in a satchel. Loki's memory snapped awake—it was the same sack he bought her to carry her papers the day he and Thor showed her around Asgard. The leather was supple and cracked. It had seen years of use and his mother's fine stitching extended the strap to fit his sister's growing body. The thread his mother used was a dark emerald green.
Jane waved goodbye and walked out to meet the Alfheim prince.
Better, he decided at last. Like his relationship with Thor, his with Jane was getting better. However, like his mother cautioned him, there would be a lot of work involved. The slump in Loki's shoulders straightened. Good thing tenacity was in his blood.
Fenrir looked up to the second story of the orrery where he could smell Master. Mistress was walking away with a different man. The wolf ran in two quick circles. Master, she's going away! After her! After her! Master came out, watched them leave for a tick of time and then turned in the direction of the castle.
Master!
Loki did not turn around. Fenrir looked at his retreating back and then bolted for his mistress. Stupid Master. Fenrir spent a long time without belly rubs; he would not repeat that mistake. His form melted into his puppy size, which made running up to them take longer but when he tottered up to his mistress, she bent down to pick him up. The stranger she was with smiled at him and Fenrir came this close to chomping off his forefingers.
"Sorry, Gar, Fenrir doesn't like being touched by most people."
"He seems alright with you."
"Oh, he's known me since I was a kid. He's just used to me."
The pup's green eyes watched this stranger and each time he stepped just a little too close to Mistress his black lips curled back into something distinctly unfriendly. Loki forbade him biting people after that incident with the hand—the woeful reason he could only come close to biting off this stranger's fingers and not actually bite them off. As if Light Elves had the reflexes to best him. Fenrir had to settle for glaring and growling until Jane gave him that look. Just glaring then.
He smelled food, glorious food, but he would not be—oh, was that chicken?
Jane laughed at the drool pooling from Fenrir's mouth. "Here you go Fenrir." A plate of deer femurs just for him! Furious tail wagging was not far behind the first bite. It was settled. No one but he and the Master could have Mistress.
Garikith spooned out the noodles from the communal bowl into a smaller bowl for his partner. "I can't believe you've never had jungle fever. It's one of the best things this side of the Nine Realms." Jane took a tentative bite and then breathed fire. Dark elves revived, that stuff was spicy!
She drained her glass of milk and felt smoke choke her throat. "That's 'jungle fever'? That's, that's insanely hot!"
Gar's smile was wide and his laughter rich. "Here, pour some of this sauce in it. When it's too hot you can add this to take some of the punch out. Better?"
Jane nodded. Garikith's white-gold eyes crinkled in delight. It only took one question about Asgard's skies to get Jane jabbering about physics, magic, the stars, always the stars, and her findings at the orrery. "Oh, but, I'm, sorry. Here I am taking up all the conversation. You know how I get about the sky. How long are you and your father staying this time around?"
Garikith slurped up a particularly long noodle. "I convinced him to remain until after your birthday."
Jane looked more than a little astonished that he even knew the idea of a Midgardian birthday let alone the date. "Well, my birthday is just a family affair. We, I, don't like to celebrate it. Not publically anyway."
"I know, but what are friends for? It'll be a small gift from me. Promise." He held up his hand in a mock Asgardian salute. Jane laughed.
Fenrir eyed the two, taking a pause in his bone gnawing. Just friends? He could work with friends. But if the boy overstepped his bounds… The bone in Fenrir's jaw splintered in half.
Garikith, Gar, had all the honest charms Loki lacked and the manners Thor never cared to remember. He made Jane lean further in when he described the realm of Alfheim. This was not the first time she heard these tales but the idea, the stories of life outside Asgard fascinated her. How she ached to travel, to see, to experience. In return, she told him about what she remembered from Midgard—not much, and it grew fainter by the season—and which Asgardian rituals she never quite got used to.
"Are you telling me you've never ridden an elk? Not even a docile doe?"
"They have horses here in Asgard and once, Dad—Odin—let me sit astride Sleipnir. He's a colossal black stallion that Loki bred a few centuries ago. Very intelligent though he didn't care for me much."
Gar shook his head. "My people learn to ride animals of fleeter foot. Some even learn before they walk. Your horses may be fast but few things are swifter that an Alfheim buck. Majestic and beauty but terrible to cross in war, our archers can balance on their backs at full sprint and hit a target more than two hundred paces away. Asgardian horses can't match that."
Jane rebuked him with a grin. "Don't say that in front of our stable master. He takes great pride in his stock."
"Your stable master has never seen our stock if he makes such claims. You should see a herd prancing through the snow. The sight brings home why nature is so beautiful."
"Maybe one day I'll see an Alfheim elk," Jane conceded.
"Yes," Gar agreed, "perhaps one day you will."
Lunch ended soon after that and Jane parted from her friend, retracing her steps back to the orrery to pick up another book and from there to the castle. Finger to her lips, she motioned Fenrir to hush. Loki lounged on one of the library chairs, back to the door. Jane padded away, footsteps almost inaudible. Fenrir followed, watching.
She made him wait outside Loki's room. "Keep watch," she said. Watch for whom? Master? He sat by the door, a sejant guardian, until Mistress exited the room. "Go get Loki," she told him.
Master was not really one to obey orders and it wasn't until Fenrir pushed the image of Jane at him did he catch the master's attention and even then he was in no great rush.
Mistress wasn't there. He couldn't smell her. Fenrir's ears drooped.
Loki opened the door and saw the Asgardian stars and sky.
Paper sketches of the stars covered everything—his chairs, his desk (which had been thoroughly ransacked), his dresser, his walls up to a certain height—everything. No, almost everything. His bed only had one piece of paper, a note. He knew that script.
Welcome home Loki.