Author's Notes: I'm so glad people are enjoying this story, and taking the time to give feedback and comments - please keep them coming! They always make my day! I'm very glad that you're liking my take on some of the non-movieverse characters like Sigyn and Lord Frey. It's always a little unnerving to step outside the canon!

Chapter Three

Sigyn followed Sif out of the healing rooms. "Where are you going?"

"I must report this to the king - to the council," Sif amended it. Treason had to be reported at once.

"And what are they to do?" A strange edge in the other woman's voice gave Sif pause. She looked back to find Sigyn staring at her with a harder face than she could ever recall. "Sentence him to death? They need only wait for that."

"It's our duty," Sif retorted. Sigyn raised a blonde eyebrow, and Sif felt suddenly defensive. "I don't act out of malice," she blurted.

"I never said you did," Sigyn replied in a low voice. What passed between them in the silence told a different tale.

And it was Sif who was forced to look away. "What would you have me do, then? I can't say nothing."

"Surely there are alternatives to denouncing him before the whole of Asgard," Sigyn insisted. "You saw no need to report Thor's treason straight to the king when he breached the peace."

"That was diff..." Sif trailed off. There went Sigyn's damned eyebrow again.

A shout from the healing rooms mercifully halted their standoff. Sigyn rushed to assist Eir with the struggling Loki while Sif hovered in the doorway. He cursed them, sweat-drenched and wild-eyed, trying to keep his wounded arm from their view - Sigyn seized a sedative potion and cast it into his face. Eir caught him as he collapsed, then his half-bandaged arm fell into Sif's view.

For a moment, she forgot all about her dilemma. "What in the..."

Loki's hand was blue. Eir and Sigyn exchanged a long look, then eyed her, and evidently decided there was nothing for it and went about their work, unwrapping the binding to reveal the discolored flesh from the tips of Loki's fingers up to his shoulder. Sif walked closer without realizing it until she could make out the faint patterns on his skin... and then it was as if her heart thudded down into her guts.

She stood there, stunned and silent while spells and healing stones were administered again, and Loki - Thor's brother, son of Odin - fell into a calmer sleep, and the arm and hand were hidden again. Eir straightened and cast a hard look at Sif. Oh, that was where Sigyn had picked up that eyebrow quirk. "Yes, the king and queen have always known, as anyone with half their wits ought to realize."

Sif swallowed thickly. "Thor?" Thor who has dreamed all these years of "finishing Odin's work" in Jotunheim, of teaching them to fear...

Eir's eyes briefly dropped, and she replied, "Not as far as I know. And as for Loki, he discovered it yesterday. He has taken it ill. Think on that before you raise a hue and cry," she added, and turned to go.

"I wasn't, I... I wasn't..." Sif stammered, but Eir left without a backward glance. There again was Sigyn, wiping Loki's face and watching her with accusing eyes. Why do you look at me like that? Don't look at me like that. It's not my fault. I didn't mean, I never would... "He didn't know?" she murmured.

Sigyn shrugged. "It seems not."

He was taking it ill, Eir said. As well he might. As any of them might, to suddenly find themselves the offspring of the enemy. Laughing and weeping at the same time, raging and terrified. Falling to poison and afraid to let anyone see the wound.

"I'm the monster."

He looked terrible. Even through whatever illusion had given him Aesir features, his eyes were sinking and shadowed, his skin growing more pallid and ashen by the hour. He's dying. It struck her in a new rush, that awareness. Loki was dying. She stared at Sigyn. "How long does he have?"

The bitterness fell from Sigyn's face, and grief replaced it. "A day or two. Perhaps."

Sif drew a shaky breath and marshaled her scattered thoughts. "I'll go to the queen."

Mjolnir was his no longer. All his cries, first his demands, then his pleas to Heimdall had gone unanswered, and in the end, even Mjolnir was beyond his strength. Despair gripped him in those hours in the son of Coul's custody, knowing he was cast out from Asgard in a weak mortal body, deprived of all that had made him Thor Odinson.

His people, his station, his friends, his name, his strength. His weapon.

His brother.

Then Erik Selvig came for him, and it dawned on Thor that even exiled in this realm, he was not friendless. It was like finding a star in the black sky, one tiny beacon of hope.

It wouldn't be the first time that a foul mood had been dispelled by a night of drinking and brawling and the company of a fair maiden, but somehow this was different. Rather than the headaches and return to his usual life, he felt under the dry sun of this realm something that had to be... peace. Perhaps acceptance at least, that this was the Allfather's will, and that even away from all he loved, he was not alone and friendless.

Beneath the stars on the roof of Jane Foster's dwelling, Thor pondered his new life. If only he could have but one boon... and it was not Mjolnir. It would be to know that Loki was all right.

Something had been terribly wrong in those last moments before Odin cast him out, but even his brother's wound had not softened Odin. Now Thor supposed that after what he'd brought down... the horror and suffering of war... perhaps he deserved to not know. To wonder and to fear.

He poured his heart out to Erik that night as they drank, as men well might over ale and good company. The mortal was sympathetic to Thor's anxiety, even to his sense of guilt for Loki's injury. For all his short lifetime, he'd seen dear friends fall and fade, some to the wasting age and ailments unique to humans, others to sudden, unexpected tragedy. That their lives were a fraction of Asgard meant their grief was no less. Erik spoke of Jane Foster's father as such a friend, not a brother in arms but a brother of a lifetime in their shared scholarly pursuits. Erik did not say it in so many words, but Thor could tell he understood what it was to fear and then grieve for a brother.

"Sounds like your dad's pretty ticked at you, but I'll bet your brother'll be just fine. If it were that serious, you'd probably have heard by now." The words were only light reassurance, spoken by one ignorant of any facts or the parties involved, but Thor was grateful nonetheless that Erik made the effort.

How Thor wished Loki were here; he would like Erik and Jane. Midgard's legends spoke of Asgard, of his and Loki's past sojourns and those of their ancestors. To ease Thor's mood, Erik regaled him with some of the more outlandish tales, and they debated where truth ended and legend began until they were both gasping with laughter. "Aw, come on, there has to be a grain of truth in there somewhere!"

"My brother may be given some credit for Sleipnir's existence, but not that kind! Odin's steed is the product of magic alone." Oh, the look on Loki's face when he heard what the humans had made of that story. If only I could see him to tell him. If I only knew he was well, I could accept this exile with a glad heart.

It should have occurred to him that a mortal man would not have the tolerance for drinking and brawling that even Thor's mortal body would, and he felt guilty the next day for Erik's sorry state. So Thor volunteered to aid in preparing the morning meal so Erik could rest (and prevent Darcy from poisoning them all, if Jane was to be believed). He could tell that despite their bonding of the previous evening, none of the mortals truly believed him to be who he was.

Perhaps they're right, he mused to himself as he assisted Jane with the dishes. The thought was more funny than troubling. Perhaps it was all a dream. Well, there were worse places to wake up from a fantastical delusion than at the side of a fair, clever lady and a kind, wise man -

*BANGBANGBANG!* "Found you!"

Thought dismissed.

Darcy and Erik's cups shattered upon the floor. If Thor been holding anything more fragile than a towel, it too would have met its end at the sight of Sif and the Warriors Three rattling the door.

Babbled explanations and embraces and delighted shouts followed, and at first, his heart soared at Fandral's words. "We've been sent to bring you home."

It surprised him to feel the intense pang at the way Jane and Erik's faces fell. Even as he rejoiced to see his comrades in arms, to know he was not forgotten... He stepped away from them and sighed. "It seems my father may allow me to properly beg his pardon for the...trouble I brought down. But I'll never forget your kindness, my friends. If it's in my power, I will repay you properly someday."

"Ohhh, we'll miss you though!" Darcy threw her arms around his neck, causing Fandral to pretend to wipe away a tear. Sif and Hogun's perceptive eyes, on the other hand, were focused on Jane.

Erik gave him a one-armed embrace, but Thor asked Jane, "Would you like to see the bridge we spoke of?"

They walked out beyond the town to the site of the Bifrost, only to find that the son of Coul and his men were investigating. "Hello, Donald. I don't think you've been completely honest with us."

"Thor, we should not delay," murmured Hogun.

"I'm afraid you'll have to," Coulson said. The words were casual, spoken with a pleasant smile, but sight of his men putting themselves very deliberately between Thor and the Bifrost was not so pleasant.

Sif bristled and stepped towards the small man. "I am afraid he can't." Even as Thor held out a hand to restrain her, she turned back to him and lowered her voice. "There is more, though we wished to tell you in private. It's Loki."

Oh, Allfather... No. No no, not Loki, no nononono... "Not dead," Thor whispered. The sun seemed to have grown unbearably bright. "Please..."

Volstagg shook his head. "No, no, he's alive. But... he's in a bad way."

So that was it. Hot, heavy dread rose up in Thor's chest, sizzling with remorse and despair. They did not come because the Allfather has relented. He's not calling me home. He has sent for me because my brother is... what have I done?

"I can't stay," he breathed at Coulson. He did not wish to fight these men again, did not wish to fight anyone or anything or make any move that did not lead to his brother's side. His mortal body felt weak, and he knew it was not due to hunger.

"Agents," Erik was protesting. "Come on, have a heart, the guy's got a family emergency! Just let him go!"

"If he really is a prince from an alien race, it's not very good diplomacy to detain him," added Darcy.

A tall mortal archer stepped from the group of Coulson's warriors. "If you're the genuine Thor, how come you couldn't lift the hammer?" he asked.

An hour ago, Thor would have been depressed just to think of it, not to mention humiliated. Now it felt like nothing, and he was impatient to leave this realm, Mjolnir and all. "Because I'm not worthy of it. Enough. I don't wish to do your people further injury, but if you try to stop me, I will. Heimdall!" he called out. "Open the Bifrost!"

At least it seemed Heimdall could still hear him. The humans shouted in surprise and alarm as the bridge opened. Coulson looked from the rainbow column back to Thor, then motioned his men out of their path. Past the whirling panic in his mind, Thor was aware that it was a major concession. He ought to acknowledge it, but he could barely think straight. "Thank you, good sir," said Volstagg gravely.

Thor turned quickly to Erik and Darcy. "Farewell, my friends." He seized Jane's hand quickly and kissed it. "Thank you. For everything." Then he forced himself to turn away from her full eyes and ran into the bridge.

Forgive me for not lingering longer, Jane, but I fear there are others whose forgiveness I must also beg while there's still time.

The ride back into Asgard was silent and frantic, but arriving only led to more confusion. For Thor was met not by the Allfather, but by Frigga, Frey of Alfheim, and several of Odin's councilors. "The king has fallen into the Odinsleep," said Ullr without preamble.

Thor froze. "What?"

"Asgard is leaderless." There was a chill in Frigga's voice that he'd never heard before, and he cringed to realize the reason for it. "I had the authority to order your return, but until Odin awakens, you cannot be restored to power. You're called home for your brother's sake."

Thor swallowed hard and fought to continue looking her in the eye. He was justly reproached. He would have to bear it as a man should, mortal or Aesir. "Tell me of Loki."

Under her stony composure, he saw Frigga tremble. She gestured curtly to the councilors, who departed, looking resigned. To Thor's surprise, Frey stayed, as did Sif and the Warriors Three. Frigga told him, "If Asgard cannot broker a swift peace with Jotunheim, and mercy from Laufey besides, Loki will not live another day."

It was said that humans died when their hearts simply ceased beating. Thor wondered if this was how it felt. He wished to speak, to ask for details, to demand what by the Norns had happened, to beg Frigga's forgiveness and admit his fault in this calamity, to rage and roar vengeance at Laufey for bringing death upon one who did not deserve it - but his throat simply would not clear to allow it. So he stood in shameful silence, burning under his mother's stare and Asgard's blame - then he reeled as Frigga's hand struck his face in an open, full-armed slap.

It was the most painful blow he'd ever felt. But he made himself look at her again. And if his voice broke, well, that slap was proof already of his disgrace. A few tears couldn't make it much worse. "May I see him?"

"There's more." Frigga had risked cracking her own facade in indulging the rage she felt, and her voice too was unsteady. "Loki's unwilling to see you. If you're to go to him, it must be against his wishes."

Because it's all my fault. Well, why should Loki not blame him? His breath caught, and he couldn't help it. But Frigga's explanation left him utterly confused. "This could not possibly be a worse moment to tell you, but there's no time left. Tell me, Thor, are you prepared to cast your brother off if he should not meet your expectations?"

At least the shock had the effect of pushing back the sobs trying to rise from his throat. He stared at her in disbelief. Frigga's mouth twisted in pain and bitterness, and she went on, "Suppose I were to tell you that Loki is not your brother by blood. Will his life matter less to you?"

She was making no sense. Loki... Loki... He just wanted to see him. To promise it would be all right, as if they were boys again and Loki had broken his leg climbing rocks and Thor had been afraid to hurt him worse by carrying him over the hills and sat at his side half the night, shivering from cold and fear and still insisting his little brother would be safe until searchers found them.

His mind reeled. "I don't understand. He is my brother."

"Until you took it into your head to incite war with Jotunheim, Loki believed that too," Frigga sighed. Now she was the one who looked away. "The Jotnar's poison revealed his true bloodline to him, as if he were not in enough pain and fear already. He was saved by Odin from abandonment; we raised him as our own beside you." She took another long breath and met his eyes again, challenging him. "So, Thor Odinson? What say you? Does this lessen his worth in your eyes?"

How could she think that? Some spark of pride stirred again in him, indignant at the notion that his love was so fickle. He lifted his chin. "Loki is my brother, and mortal or not, I will thrash anyone who says otherwise."

Frey smiled, abandoning his silent watch of the discussion. "I'm glad to find you resolved, Odinson - you'll need it. Only a Jotunn magician will have any chance of saving Loki."

Well, mortal or Aesir, perhaps he could prove his resolve was unchanged. "Then we must act quickly. But take me to him. Please," he said, stepping towards his mother. "I know it's my fault, but if he's in mortal danger I won't let him go any longer doubting my love for him."

There was fear in her voice. Fear and doubt. "He's Jotunn, Thor," she whispered. Thor blinked. "Odin found him in the ruined temple at Utgard. That's why the dart didn't kill him instantly, and that's why he's afraid of you."

Of all the shocking things she had just uttered, the last was by far the worst. Loki afraid of me? Annoyed with him, often. Jealous of him, sometimes - he'd admitted as much. Competitive with him, always. Disgusted with him... he ought to be. Maybe even ashamed of him now, stripped of title and realm and inheritance for his stupid bravado, leaving Asgard without a king. Unworthy.

Through a clenched jaw, he hissed, "I don't care about his parentage. He's still my brother!"

Frigga let out her breath in a rush, and it stabbed him further to know how very much she'd been in doubt of his answer. But she stepped from his path, and he took that as permission to go to the healing rooms. Perhaps this mortal body wasn't so weak after all, or at least adrenaline was as powerful a thing for humans as it was for Aesir: he ran all the way.

To be continued...

Coming Mid-Week: Thor must adjust fast to a new outlook on Asgard - and Jotunheim - as his brother's final hours approach. Whether Loki can be convinced of Thor's love, let alone survive, is another question.

Please don't forget to review!