Lost Daughter

Chapter 4

((Hi guys! Thank you so much for all your wonderful reviews! I intended for there to be much more in this chapter but it was so long already that I decided to leave it where it is. I'm trying to keep these chapters at a certain length so they're not ridiculously long and I can throw them out faster. Anyway, this chapter was again based on parts of the movie. Lots of Loki feels. Enjoy!))

Her dreams drifted back to the snow and ice that night. The cold, crisp air filling her lungs, the warmth of being held, the smell of meat cooking. It seemed to be a time of happiness. Then she could hear loud noises; they scared her, made her cry. Metal clashed against ice, and she heard cries of pain. She was being carried in someone's arms while they were running, then she was hidden away, wrapped in a blanket of snow.

And then there was quiet, an eerie unnatural quiet... not even the howling wind to comfort her.

Loki awoke far too warm again, the feeling of suffocation seized her and panic began to seep into her thoughts. For a moment she forgot where she was. Then Thor's strong arms gave her a squeeze, pulling her close in his sleep. Loki finally began to relax, ear pressed against Thor's chest and listening to his steady heartbeat, but her eyes were still wild. Eventually she wiggled out of Thor's grasp without waking him up. He grumbled something and rolled over, still asleep. Sitting up in bed, she gazed at the tanned muscled skin of his back. Her soft lips met his shoulder in a farewell kiss, then she silently escaped back to her room.

She dressed quickly and let Fenrir out. Hábrók flew down to her shoulder; apparently she was to have company today, no matter. Her door shut loudly and echoed throughout the halls, as well as her foot steps. Servants bowed slightly as she passed; she ignored them. Even Vostagg bid her good morning when he saw her, his hands full with a plate of food; she barely noticed he was there. There would be comments made to the other warriors, but she wasn't concerned.

There were more important things on her mind.

The guards eyed her curiously as she walked past into the treasure vault; they couldn't stop her, being of the royal family, but they didn't like the idea of her being in there by herself. The look of determination upon her face gave them pause.

"Should we..?" One of them asked after the doors closed.

"Yes, who knows what sort of mischief she could cause in there.." They sent a messenger to alert the All-Father.

The treasure fault was eerily quiet, it always had been every time she set foot here, but this was the first time that she was alone. The click of her heels echoed loudly off the walls as she walked, taking her time to look at each of the artifacts in turn. The true object she desired was at the far end, the Casket of Ancient Winters; resting on a pillar against the white wall where the Destroyer stood dormant behind. As she walked closer she felt that same twisting in her heart as she did on Jotunheim. She watched as the cerulean blue flowed and undulated beneath the surface of the casket, it's soft light radiated power.

She stepped in front of it, her heart beating faster, fear and apprehension causing her hands to tremble. She reached out to touch it, shaking her head slightly.

Just touch it Loki, she thought to herself, prove once and for all that you're the rightful daughter of Odin and this is just some silly curse that the Jotuar have placed upon you. Then things can go back to the way they were.

She reached out to grasp the Casket at each end, her hands fitting easily around the handles. She felt the cold seeping into her fingers. The Casket was nearly weightless in her arms as she picked it up, looking at her hands as they turned blue again.

"Stop!" A booming voice yelled. Odin's voice.

Loki waited a long moment before setting the casket down with a loud thud, but she didn't let go of it quite yet. One hand rested on top of the Casket's smooth surface. "Am I cursed?" she managed to croak out. Her voice sounded weak and she hated it.

"... No."

The truth of the statement hit her stomach like a dead weight, she began to tremble. Her hand slipped from the Casket "Then what am I?"

"You are my daughter."

She tsked softly to herself, what a very matter-of-fact answer, but it also avoided the issue. Slowly she turned to face him, her skin had changed from head to toe, and her eyes shone with the same vibrant red of all who dwelt in Jotunheim. Raised lines decorated her forehead and cheeks, making delicate patterns. Her dark hair framed her face, and seemed less out of place now. "What more than that?" she all but sneered. Anger and hurt welled up inside her, ready to spew forth. Her feet moved of their own accord, walking towards her 'father'. "The casket wasn't the only thing you took from Jotunheim that day, was it?"

Her feet finally stopped at the foot of the stairs, looking up at him. Odin stared at her, for a moment he seemed frail, nervous, unsure how to respond. "No... in the aftermath of the battle I went into the temple; and I found a baby." Loki's fists clenched as Odin continued, "Small, for a giant's offspring, I assumed she was abandoned, suffering, left to die. Laufey's daughter..."

She wasn't looking at Odin then. "Laufey's daughter..." she remarked, as if to say: 'huh, that's interesting', but inside she was terrified.

"Yes..." Odin said softly.

Her chest began to heave, she was losing control of her emotions rapidly. Her whole life was unraveling before her eyes, "...Why?" she finally gasped, "You were knee deep in Jotun blood, why would you take me?"

"You were an innocent child."

Oh that was the perfect answer, wasn't it? The ever righteous Odin would never harm an innocent. She glared up at him, oh no no no, it wasn't as simple as that. He has a reason for everything. "No... you took me for a purpose. What was it?"

Again, that pause, that long, excruciating pause. Couldn't he see that it was killing her? Say something dammit! "TELL ME!" She screamed, whole body shaking with emotion. Hábrók squawked with annoyance at Loki's movements. She shooed the bird away.

Odin watched the bird curiously before Loki's scream drew back his attention. "...I thought we could unite our kingdoms one day, bring about an alliance, bring about permanent peace, through you." His voice almost sounded proud, saying that, but Loki couldn't comprehend it. "Wha..." she wheezed.

"Y-you could have told me what I was from the beginning, why didn't you?" Why did she have to grow up thinking that she was something that she wasn't? Tears flowed freely down her cheeks.

"You're my daughter," he emphasized, as if to drive the point home. "I wanted only to protect you from the truth."

She smiled bitterly, and let out a puff of air, as if someone had punched her in the stomach, "What, because I-I am the monster that parents tell their children about at night? Were you ashamed of me father? Is that it? Or should I even call you tha-"

Her breath escaped her lungs in a wheeze as Odin rushed forth to hold her in his arms. For as old as he was he still possessed his strength. "Not a monster. Never a monster! I love you, and you are part of our family, Loki."

Loki trembled in his arms, resisting his affection at first, hissing and squirming away like a frightened animal. Odin didn't let go, and only held her tighter. Finally she tired and relented, giving in to his embrace. She began to sob noisily into his shoulder, much to her dismay. She clung to him like she did when she was a child. All of her emotional walls crumbled down before her father, and he saw the raw and deep wounds of pain and confusion rolling over her at that very moment. She felt so weak, she couldn't stand it. She wanted to hit him, or scream at him more, something. Not this, she didn't want to be this mewling sniveling being. He didn't need a weakling frost giant for adaughter...

She slowly gained control of her breathing and forced herself to calm down, though her heart desperately wanted to express more of its feelings of anguish and betrayal. Gently she pushed away from him, and he let her go, watching as she stubbornly wiped her eyes and adjusted her attire. She crossed her arms over her chest and sniffled loudly.

"Does Thor know?" she asked, her voice was horribly high pitched and cracked, and her now stuffy nose didn't help with her speech.

Odin slowly shook his head. "No, only Frigga, Heimdall and I know."

"Wonderful." She uttered bitterly, running a hand through her hair.

Odin let out a long, tired, sigh. "I apologize, daughter, for my lack of forethought in this. I should have told you, but I did not expect to love you as I have."

Loki tilted her head in confusion, was that supposed to be a compliment? If so it was a bad one. "How do you mean?"

"We had planned, Frigga and I, to tell you when you were old enough to understand. I took you, as I said, so that one day we could unite Jotunheim and Asgard as allies. You were the gateway to that future. I also had hoped that by taking you in and raising you as my own that the Aesir could learn more of the Jontar, and not see them as the monsters from warriors tales." He paused for a moment to pull something out of his pocket. "But, within those first few months we had you, all of those plans dissolved. We began to think of you as our own, as if you were born from Frigga's womb all along. I couldn't bear to tell you the truth then, as much as your mother encouraged me to."

Loki's throat was dry, muscles constricted. She opened her mouth many times to try to say something, but nothing. She sat down ungracefully on the steps, holding her head in her hands.

"Loki... look at me."

She wanted to defy him, but the soft pleading tone in his voice forced her to incline her head. He bent down and gently grasped her wrist and placed what he was holding in her hand. "I have been meaning to give you this for some time."

Instinct told her to drop whatever Odin placed in her hand, it was freezing, but she resisted. She looked down to see a ring, it seemed to be made of ice but it wasn't melting in the warmth of the room. She examined it closely; the design seemed rather crude at first, as if nature herself had made it, but on closer inspection she noticed etchings on the surface, impossibly detailed. The whole ring was like a tapestry, telling a story like the carvings in the great halls. In the center of the ring was a large sapphire, or what looked like a sapphire, it was smooth like a river stone. Loki was impressed, not even Frigga could claim to own such a jewel.

Green eyes looked up at Odin on confusion. "That belonged to my Mother, Bestla," he answered her unspoken question.

Loki continued to play with the ring. She was debating putting it on or throwing it back in Odin's face. "If it was Grand- Queen Bestla's, why give it to me?"

"When I was to become king, she gave this to me with the intent that I give it to my first born daughter, if I had one . . . She was a Frost Giant, Loki."

Now that she wasn't expecting to hear, Bestla had died before she was.. found, so she had no way of knowing. She almost laughed, but it sounded somewhere between a choke and a sob. So even if she was Odin's real daughter, she'd still be a quarter monster. "And that is supposed to make me feel better?"

"No... this is to show that I understand."

Loki snorted loudly but gave no further retort, she didn't have the energy. She put the ring in her pocket.

"Laufey will be here tomorrow."

"What? Why?" she squeaked, suddenly anxious all over again.

"To discuss Thor's punishment, hopefully Laufey is not angered enough to start another war." Odin looked like he was going to say something else, but thought the better of it.

Loki didn't like that. ". . . and?"

"I have my suspicions daughter, but no strong evidence. Worry not."

Loki sighed and shook her head, she was too exhausted to argue. Slowly she stood up, feeling like she had aged a thousand years in mere moments.

"I want you to be there when he arrives, in your finest."

"Are you sure you that's wise?" she murmured with a touch of bitterness. She was only ever called to these meetings whenever her silver tongue could be useful.

"Yes, I want you to be there. I am certain he would ask for you if not, best to beat him to it."

She sighed and nodded, trembling slightly. Of course he would, after all she is his . . . no, best not to think about it.

Loki left the Treasure Vault with a heavy heart, Hábrók seemed to sense her foul mood and flew from her shoulder and out from the palace's open hallways. Loki assumed she went to find food. "Well... at least you're independent."

Her legs led her to her room though she scarcely remembered the journey, she only remembered the soft click of her door being shut behind her. Sleep was the farthest thing from her mind, but she felt so exhausted. The news of her true heritage weighed upon her like thick chains. Her normally graceful feet stumbled; found their way to the fireplace and sat down to rest at Fenrir's side. She curled into his thick black fur and she breathed deeply of his scent. Fenrir curled around her and turned his head to lick her face; his rough tongue wiped away the fresh tears that fell from her eyes.

"And lo, here I know that you shall never think me a lesser being."

She could scarcely believe it, how could she possibly be something so . . . inferior. She was raised a goddess, could she truly be that different? She ate of Idunna's apples, she shed blood in battle for Asgard, she spoke the All-Tongue and sang in their songs of victory and triumph. Was she truly not one of them?

No, she was a giantess, of all things, and a pitiful small one at that; from a frozen desolate world long since ruined. A master of magic, which the Aesir found to be a complete waste of time; tricks to amuse and nothing more. She clutched at Fenrir's fur and gritted her teeth. Damn that Odin, her father. Damn him for giving her false hope and making her think she was worth something. And what of Thor? No doubt he'd be disgusted by her should he ever find out. Tsk. Typical.

Her ribs hurt from keeping in the sobs threatening to overcome her, but she refused to lose complete control again. No more sobs for self pity. Weak, pitiful thing you are.

Hábrók flew in the void between worlds, another white speck in the vastness of stars. Magick protected her from the airless vaccum as she flew, making her way towards her intended target; she must make haste. She slipped secretly from the confines of Asgard, and the ever-watchful eye of Heimdall; taking one of the long forgotten paths. It was easy enough for one to slip into Asgard, if you knew where to look; the All-Father had grown too reliant on the Bifrost. She banked sharply, turning in the void to a much darker world, wings tucking in and gaining speed. She became a white arrow in flight as she dove into the atmosphere.

Her feathers puffed up instantly as a blast of cold air hit her. Her wings spread and slowed her decent. Piercing eyes looked down at the snow and ice covered world of Jotunheim; it was dark and eerily silent, the only sounds were the soft shriek of the wind and crumbling ice below. She flew over half-ruined buildings and icy cliffs, she could see the Jountar below her, rebuilding what they could and trying to have some sense of normalcy in their lives. She pitied them, felt their pain.

She flew into a window of a particularly tall building, one that was kept up more than most. She rested on the window sill, panting slightly as she surveyed the room. It was Laufey's chambers. The frost giant King sat in quiet contemplation in a large chair. His expression was impassive, but his softly glowing eyes revealed some sense of inner turmoil. Hábrók let out a soft noise and flapped her wings, letting him know she was there.

Slowly he turned his eyes to her, mask in place. She could no longer see whatever pain was behind his eyes. He lifted his arm and she glided over, her talons gently grasping his large fingers.

She opened her beak and trilled, "Good evening, my King."