Interlude - Loki

...

Loki sat, half hidden by the shadows of the walls and corridors of the palace, as Thor and Fandral sparred with one another in the courtyard. Fandral, so far, was winning - his vanity gave way to his wit when in battle, and the fair-headed swordsman was lighter and quicker on his feet than Loki's brother could ever be. Thor tended towards brute force as always, but was not without tact, in a fight if not in words. Even from this distance, Loki could see several ways with which Thor could turn the tide, and some of which Thor might even think of, even though the sword was not his preferred weapon of choice.

Loki himself, however, had other things on his mind, and only noticed his brother winning the match due to the sheer volume of his celebrations. He rolled his eyes, and went back to tapping his forefinger against his lips in thought, a slight frown furrowing between his eyes. He didn't notice as the group came over, laughing and clapping each other on their backs.

"Come, Loki! You sit out like this, and you give us reason to worry for you!"

"Ah, but Thor," Fandral interjected, "doesn't Loki always do this? Unless there's something in it for him, he sees no reason to get involved!"

Loki raised his eyebrows at them.

"Perhaps I merely have many things on my mind, and must therefore divide my time between my planning and my doing. Should I add your humiliation to my list?"

Fandral laughed nervously, and began to back away with a smile on his face towards the armoury.

"Do not worry yourself on my count! Thor, my friends, I shall see you at the evening meal"

"Yes," said Sif, "as that is how long it will take you to get yourself presentable again."

Volstagg began to meander off towards the kitchens, even though Loki knew that the cooks would neither find him welcome, nor allow him to raid their wares before they were ready. Doubtless the largest member of the Warriors Three would not see either of these things as a true obstacle however, and find something to stuff his face with anyway. Perhaps, even, one of the servants would find themself so truly in awe of him that they were intimidated into feeding him, like a puppy under a table.

The image of Volstagg as a rotund, red puppy begging for scraps brought a smile to his face. Hm. Tempting, too. Entertaining enough to consider it for a rainy day, or when the man irritated him badly enough.

A shadow passed over him, and he realised that Thor was now next to him, instead of towering over him. Sif had by now made herself scarce also, so it was just the two of them. Loki sighed, and looked away.

"I do not wish to talk about what may or may not be bothering me, so do not force me to."

"Now, brother. I doubt greatly that I could make you do anything that you would not want to. Yet... I do worry."

And, of course, Thor was as bad at lying as Loki was good. He also, unfortunately, was just as stubborn - if not more so.

"It is not your business to worry about my affairs; do you not have your own?"

"Ah, but you are missing one thing," Thor said, pointing his finger in Loki's direction. "You are my brother, therefore all of your business is mine."

"I think I remember telling you that I did not wish to talk about it."

For a moment, there was silence. And for that moment, Loki entertained the idea that maybe, just maybe, Thor had got the idea and for once would just leave it alone.

Then-

"I will not leave until you give me at least some answer. I would not be content to have you remain like this knowing that I had done nothing to aid you."

Loki sighed. Now there would be no getting Thor off of his case unless he gave in. At least a little.

Fine. Very well.

"It concerns one of my children."

Thor nodded. "Which one?"

It was common knowledge in Asgard that Loki had many children. It was also common knowledge that not all of them were of the standard Aesir shape... that is, two arms, two legs, and opposable thumbs. Yet Loki worried about all of them, regardless of what the others would call them behind his back (monsters, bastards, sons and daughters of a shape-changer) and Thor would never hold it against his brother. Any children of Loki's, after all, was a nephew of Thor's, and in the god of thunder's opinion worthy of the utmost respect.

"Does it matter?" Before Thor could say something stupid like 'yes, of course it does!', Loki continued. "There is nothing further that you can do. The child is long since dead, and died valiantly. Yet he is still gone from my reach."

Thor shifted uncomfortably, and Loki knew why. Tact was not one of his strongest points much of the time, and dealing with grief was not something that he often had to consider. Then, suddenly, Thor stood.

"Come, brother. We shall go to the cooks, and tell them to make something fit for remembering our lost ones! We shall have a magnificent feast!"

He held out his hand, and Loki took it, standing.

"That sounds like a sound plan, brother," he said, sounding and feeling for the first time like himself that day, "except for one part."

"And what would that be?"

"The part where you still need to clean yourself before you are let anywhere nar the kitchens, brother. I can still smell your bout with Fandral lingering in the air around you."

Thor laughed, glad no doubt to see a smile on his brother's face again, and made him promise to wait for him, which Loki did.

Yet no amount of feasting could make him forget, and for all the good memories that were brought up, he would remember a spark of hope. Something left behind.

...

AN: Okay, so this was originally going to be posted as chapter six, but I forgot about it! So here it is, as chapter seven. And I think the pacing works better that way.

This should clear up one or two things. I don't know if they'll be a surprise or not, and if they are then for how many. But it's also an insight into Loki's life right now - and our first look at a Loki who isn't an illusion!