A/N: Much shorter chapter, I'm sorry. Life's running a bit crazy right now. I thought better a short chapter than nothing =D
He noticed the heat first, and while one very distant part of his mind reminded him that his fever might have increased again, another simply explained it away with the heat of the sun bearing down on him. He stood in its rays, squinting and searching. He knew not what for just yet, but he was certain that there was something that he needed to find. He wandered the halls of the palace - when had the stone and marble begun to soak in such heat? - and found his way to the throne room. Four pyres had been built in the middle of the large room, so high that he could not see the top.
"Come, my prince," Aegir sneered, suddenly at his side. "You shouldn't want to be late."
"Late to what?" Loki questioned, knowing that even that was not the question that should be asked.
"The end of the royal family," another voice said and he turned to see the tired apprentice of Rowen. He wore such an honest expression that Loki found his eyes searching for the bodies that he knew to be lying on top of the wood in the way that one always knows things in a dream.
"You should not wish to miss the journey to Valhalla with them, my prince." Aegir said, motioning to the last pyre.
Rowen stood by it sadly. "It is the only way; to purge out the illness." Loki swallowed and tried to back away only to find himself rooted to the spot.
"No. Where are they? Where is my family?" he demanded.
Both Aegir and Rowen motioned to the pyres. "Already on their way. You must hurry."
He knew it could not be true, but he looked across the room. His mother's crown lay at the foot of the first. Mjolnir rested at the foot of the second; the one that bore his brother. And Odin's helm adorned the third. "Your father knew this would happen. He would fall and only you would be left. Only you. You are not worthy of rule." Aegir said. He repeated the mantra, Rowen's voice echoing in his ears that it was the only way.
Loki covered his ears. "It is not true. It is not true." he said through gritted teeth.
Suddenly they were gone and it was silent. Loki opened his eyes to see the pyres remained, but that Odin stood in front of the one that should have been his own. "Father." Loki said desperately.
"You are not worthy." Odin said, voice cold. "You are not worthy, not even of the name Odinson." he said.
The pyres lit and he was dragged by unseen shadows towards his own. Loki cried out, screamed, and fought but it was no use. As the flames reached out for him, all he could hear was Odin's voice in his ears, beckoning him into the flames.
He sat up with a scream deep in his throat, only barely choked back before it verbalized. He could feel his body shaking under the weight of the nightmare and he glanced to see Thor was still snoring softly where he'd curled up some hours before. His brother was safe, but something kept nagging him.
Loki was on his feet and quietly out the door to his chambers before he could stop himself. He made no noise as he moved down the hall, feeling his chest constrict in protest. He reached the large, ornate doors that led to his father's throne room. Rowen had long since required all but necessary servants to return home and away from the halls to keep the disease from spreading, and it left the corridors dreadfully quiet.
The doors echoed as they opened, Loki pushing against them and finding his strength greatly diminished. He forced himself to look inside, finding no pyres standing there. He sank to the floor and buried his face in his hands while allowing a moment of weakness in the silence.
He heard the sound of footsteps behind him and whirled, nearly toppling to one side, to find the Allfather standing in the doorway, looking still very ill as he pulled a cloak around his shoulders to keep the cold away from him.
"It is not a very comfortable seat, I am afraid, if you have come to remind yourself of the feel." Odin said. It was meant lightly, but feeling unwell made him sound grave and even the small smile he offered with the statement could not stop the words from being the wrong ones at the wrong moment.
Loki's face crumpled. "No." He rasped, tears spilling down his flushed cheeks. He took a deep breath. "I wanted so much for so long to be like you, to be favored by you, to share something with you. What is it that they say on Earth? Be careful what you wish for. I had never wished for us to be bound like this." he whispered.
Odin stepped forward, exhaustion lining his face. Slowly he made his way until he was standing before his youngest son. With a stifled groan he managed to kneel so that they were almost level with one another. "We are bound by so much more, my son," the Allfather managed. They sat there a moment, the king and prince of Asgard seated on the marble floor of the throne room. He allowed Loki to regain what he could of his composure before speaking again. "What brought you to this place?"
"I had a dream," his son answered, feeling very foolish now. "I needed to make sure it wasn't real."
"Did you find anything lingering?"
Loki shook his head, regretting the action as the room spun. "No," he managed after a moment. "Thankfully, no."
"Mmm," Odin hummed thoughtfully. "Your brother does not know you're here, does he?"
"I don't believe so. He was asleep when I left the room."
"He and your mother will be quite angry with us, roaming the halls when we should be resting. I seem to remember a little one many, many years ago that I would find in all places at all hours, having dreamt something terrible."
"I usually found myself in Thor's room," Loki admitted softly.
"Or in your mother's lap. She has always been better at comforting than I." Odin sighed.
Loki smiled, understanding the gentle admission. It wasn't every day that the Allfather spoke of his shortcomings in open air. He realized after a moment that the pressure in his chest was more than the emotions running through and he coughed deeply.
Odin's hand came to rest on his back. "Rowen has been forcing that vile potion down my throat every two or three hours. Has he not done the same with you?"
"No one has brought any... in hours," Loki coughed out, feeling his body give a shudder against the fit.
"I thought he'd sent that boy of his. Beck, I believe," Odin grumbled, looking to the door for sign of someone to fetch the healer.
"I have not seen him since Thor and I returned this afternoon." Loki said. He reached up and put a hand to his chest. "My chest burns." he added.
Odin pushed himself to his feet, not liking the pallor his son's skin was taking, nor the harshness of his breathing. "Stay still, Loki. I will have one of them come to you."
Loki reached out as if to stop him from going, but Odin was already making his way to the door. The trickster let his hand fall to the floor, fingertips pressed against the marble. Letting his eyelids droop, he cast his mind back over the articles he'd read only that morning, the names and places. Strangers most, but not all had been so. If only he could focus enough to put the pieces together, but he was so sleepy. He heard his father's voice calling to someone in the hall, but he might as well have been on a different world or underwater for all the sense it made. He felt hot. The pieces were turning in his mind. He heard his brother's voice, reading the list of names to him over and over again.
They were all users of magic, talented in their own right. Many had sparred with Thor, some had been classmates of his when they were young, and even one name had belonged to a teacher that had he had actually felt he had learned something from at one point. They were dead now, none of them to breathe again. He felt his chest constrict and he coughed, tasting blood in the back of his throat. The medicine that Rowen had devised had kept most of the symptoms at bay, but he was overdue for the next dose. After all that had happened, he found it odd that he would meet his end in such a way.
"I'll see to him, sire. Please, go rest. You can do him no good here." Loki looked up, recognizing Beck's voice.
"I will check on you in the morning, my son. Rest well." Odin said. Loki could only nod, and father and son exchanged a long look before Odin made the journey back to his chambers and his sleeping wife.
After he was gone, Beck helped Loki to his feet and draped one of his arms around his shoulders. "This way, my prince."
They moved down the dark corridor slowly. Loki frowned. He did not recall it being so dark when he had come to the great hall. He also did not recall Thor's room being in the direction they were headed. "We are not going the right way." Loki said, fighting back a cough.
"Just a quick detour, my prince. Rowen has changed the potion a bit, it will help more with the pain." Beck said, keeping his eyes ahead.
"What change?" Loki asked.
"Do not trouble yourself, my prince. It is a lowly healer's business."
Loki stopped, causing Beck to stop as well. He couldn't explain the dread that was gathering within him, as if he were walking straight up to the pyre in his dream and climbing on it himself. His mind seemed to want to grasp at something, but he was so overcome with pain and sickness that he could not quite find what that something was. "Thor will be anxious," the prince managed.
"He will see you shortly."
"Can't you just deliver the potion to my chambers as you did before? Isn't that simpler?"
"No!" Beck snapped and then shrank back, leaving Loki to stumble and stand on his own. Even though they were close in age, the apprentice looked so much smaller, so much younger that he could have easily been a child ducking away for fear of being struck. "No, my lord, it is not," he amended his tone, inching towards the prince again. "We should go."
"I cannot." Loki said, pulling away from Beck and fumbling for the wall. "Go and fetch what you need. I will remain here."
"I cannot leave you here alone, my prince. Your brother and father would never forgive if something were to befall you while I was away." Beck said, voice soft and placating.
Loki's eyes narrowed. "We are in the inner halls of Asgard. What evil do you suppose would befall me here?"
Beck flushed and he grasped the hem of his tunic, nearly tearing the fabric in sharp, twisting movements. "I meant nothing like that, I assure you. I just meant that if you were to collapse and no one to assist you it would not go well for me."
"If you do act according to my wishes it will not go well for you, I assure you. No go." Loki commanded, voice not nearly as powerful as he would have liked.
Beck stilled, hands falling to his sides. He glanced down the hallway in either way, finding no help, nor hindrance. "I feared it would go this way. I always knew you were stubborn, much like your brother. Perhaps it runs in your family."
"What are you babbling about?" Loki growled irritably.
"Master Rowen is so determined to save you. He must not know you well at all." Beck stood up straight, showing himself to be of a greater height than Loki had every given him credit for. The apprentice squared his shoulders and lifted his chin. "Even your own family mistakes you. They think you've changed, or were never quite like we thought. Are you so great now, Prince Loki? Now that your life is dwindling from you?"
The teacher on the list of victims came to mind. Garnen, he remembered. The tutor with whom he had studied all those years ago had also tutored Beck. "You are more than just a lowly apprentice, I think." Loki said, sliding carefully away from him down the hall.
"So much more. I always was, but instead of becoming a brilliant success I had to learn to be a patient man instead."
"Your gifts are learned. That is quite an impressive amount of discipline, to learn such magic." Loki's vision blurred momentarily and he blinked rapidly to clear it. He was not certain of how far he could manage if he was forced to run, how much an attack would cost him if he could not run. There were not many options to like in his given situation.
Beck tilted his head, pale eyes calm. Too calm. "No. I have honed the skills the gods have granted me." He took a step towards the prince.
Loki tried to straighten up, gathering what was left of his strength. Beck had been decent when they had known each other. He was talented, certainly, but Loki was in a class all of his own. That is, he was when he was well. Even the gathering of magic around him seemed to sap all energy from the younger prince of Asgard and he felt the hallway begin to sway dangerously, chest constricting again and he began to cough, sinking to one knee after a moment. He couldn't bring himself back to his feet as the hacking continued and spots of blood dripped to the floor.
"Such a shame, is it not?" Beck asked, standing over him. "I tried to get you to the medicine, but you just wouldn't come. You were delirious with fever and illness and you just wouldn't come, my prince. I do hope your father forgives me, but I am only a lowly apprentice." The words were biting and he glared down at the adopted son of Odin, hatred rolling from him in waves.
Loki looked up at him and smiled, a terrible twisted smile highlighted by the blood on his teeth and lips. "If this is to be my fate, I shall wait for you in the afterlife. When my brother smashes your skill to pieces with Mjolnir, we shall discuss the true meaning of greatness. It is a less, low one, you shall not soon forget in this life or the next."
Rage sparked behind those pale eyes and Beck lost the self restraint he had been valiantly displaying as Loki had hoped he might. Beck lunged forward, fist swinging. There was no spell behind it, just an angry boy and a closed fist. Loki knew the next swing would be better powered. The small dagger slipped into his hand from a pocket in his sleeve and he drove it forward. His dizziness caused it to be not well aimed, but he landed it in Beck's arm as Loki feinted around him and stumbled away down the hall. Beck howled, more out of anger than pain.
The burst of magic was more powerful than he would have suspected and it sent Loki tumbling to the ground again, rolling until he was lying face down. The dark haired sorcerer struggled to his knees, his brother's name on his lips. The next hit sent him down and he felt the pressure keep him there. "Thor won't be able to save you now," Beck growled.
"He won't be able to put the pieces together until you're long gone and I'm safely away."
"Why?" Loki managed. Keep him talking. If he could keep him talking, he could make his addled brain come up with something akin to an escape plan.
"Why? Because I could do it. You are not beyond reach, my prince. Not the most talented in the realm after all." Beck said.
"Where will you go? To what end do you pursue this? I may be dead. Fine. Let me rest in peace for once. Who will credit it you with it? If you seize your glory you seize your end. 'Tis not a very well thought out plan." Loki said with crooked smile. He pulled himself halfway up, using the wall for leverage. Words curled around the edges of his mind and he focused on them. It would cost him, this trick, but he needed time. "Greatness among no one is no greatness at all. You will still be a lowly apprentice, or some neighborhood conjuror or healer. You are petty, nothing more." Loki continued. The flash of rage was back, Beck unable to weather the insults.
"You know nothing!" he bellowed, the walls themselves shaking in his anger.
Loki felt his support tremble beneath his hand and his green eyes widened ever so slightly. There was raw power there, uncurbed in the tantrum suddenly being thrown. All of the well-crafted control seemed to be melting away to leave a tattered, angry soul in its wake with illusions of pain and neglect. For the briefest of moments the dark haired prince stopped, eyes locking with the other mage's, and he saw a vision of himself. "It does not have to be this way." Loki said, voice hardly above a whisper.
Beck laughed then, the first time Loki had ever heard such a sound come from him and it was chilling. The boy slammed a fist against the wall and it cracked, the fissures spreading away from the impact as if the wall wished to run. "You are correct, my prince. It does not have to be this way."
Loki backed away, calling forth words in his mind as quickly as they would come. He felt the ice staff solidify in his fingers, pain radiating from deep within him. He had no choice. He had to fight, or he would die.
TBC
A/N: We usually write a couple chapters or so ahead of what I post, but we're almost caught up at this point. I'm afraid you may or may not see an update again for another day or two. Sorry! Please let us know what you think, as always. =)
