Author's note: I'm trying to figure out exactly what powers Loki has - he seems more limited in the movie than the comics. I've decided not to have him fly or easily teleport himself, since if he could do that in the movie then I'm pretty sure he would have teleported to the Bifrost instead of riding a horse. ;)

It looks to be a busy weekend, so this might be my last update until next week. As always, Marvel owns these characters, not me. I'm just working through a slightly unhealthy Loki obsession.

Know Your Place, part ten: Truth and Consequences

When Loki finally woke up he did not know how long he slept but only that he felt refreshed for the first time since...

How long has it been? he wondered, sitting up and stretching the kinks out of his neck. Since before I came to Midgard. Since ... since Thor and I went to Jotunheim. Since I found out what I am.

He sighed and ran a hand through his disordered hair. The knowledge he had gained should not hurt, really, because it explained so many things. Why else had he never fit in? Not even Thor had ever seen him as an equal. Why else had he never made any true friends? Even Fandral had betrayed him in the end. Why else had his father denied him, even after he had killed his birth father to prove himself true?

"You never belonged," he told himself quietly. "No matter what you tried, no matter what you accomplished, because you are not Asgardian. And you never will be. Time to put away what is past."

Easier said than done perhaps, but he would have to try. Resolved, he looked up and was immediately assaulted by the ugliness of his surroundings. In a heartbeat they shimmered into a (much smaller) approximation of his bedroom in Asgard. He blinked, looked around, then smiled.

"Baby steps, I suppose." He refused to abide in such hideous surroundings. He would simply have to find some place better before he could put even his preference in decor aside. Chuckling, he rose from the bed and went to bathe.

. . . . .

Eir had insisted he leave her care with his arm in a sling, a condition so mortifying that Loki nearly chose to stay in the healing room until it came off. But he had been imprisoned there overnight and already he was bored out of his mind. Thor and Fandral had left to rejoin the hunt and, while he loved his mother, he could not bear her babying him any more than she already had. He was too old to be cossetted and tucked snugly into bed under enough blankets to smother him.

So Loki slipped back to his quarters and shut himself away with his books, ordering all his meals delivered to him there. He did not want to socialize or share stories of the hunt and pretend it was glorious instead of terrifying. He absented himself from weapons practice with the partially valid excuse of "doctor's orders," even though Eir had dropped by two days later to examine him, pronounce him healed, and collect the sling.

No, he had better things to do. He had to learn more. Fire was useful, but obviously it had its drawbacks. There were so many different possibilities - manipulation of the other elements, energy projection and force fields, hypnotism - but the one that fascinated him the most was illusion. It had so much potential, offensive, defensive, and (he had to admit) simply for fun. In some way it almost called to him, much the way he imagined battle called to his brother.

It was so fascinating that soon he rarely heard the knocks of servants on his door at mealtimes. He only ate the cold food they left in their wake when hunger interrupted his concentration, and slept only when he simply could keep his eyes open no longer. His mother checked on him once, and somehow he convinced her that he was not hiding but simply busy. There was something in her eyes as she left, an expression he could not decipher, but the promise of his books immediately reclaimed his rapt attention. He could have stayed there for weeks, but only a few days later someone pounded so vigorously on his doors that they shook on their hinges before flying open, revealing the always awe-inspiring figure of Odin.

His heart in his throat, Loki jumped up from his chair to his feet, knocking into the table in his haste. "You're back from the hunt," he said, not certain why he felt so nervous; normally he liked it when his father visited.

Odin strode across the room, the doors swinging shut behind him, and took his arms in a gentle but very firm grip. His blue eye traveled over his son, examining every inch of him, or at least it seemed so to Loki who had to do his best not to squirm.

"Father?" he asked hesitantly. "Did… did everything go well?"

Instead of answering, the Allfather knelt and gathered him into a hug. "I am glad you are well, son. I was worried."

Loki gaped in surprise but embraced him back. "I'm fine, really. The healer was very good."

Odin pulled back and met his gaze. "Yes, they are quite talented, but that does not keep a father from worrying about his son. What were you thinking, Loki, going off on your own? Why did you act so foolishly?"

An embarrassed flush rose in the young prince's cheeks; he felt the heat but could not hide the reaction before his father saw it. "Thor," Loki started weakly, but anything else he had to say was cut off by his father's head shake.

"You are not Thor," he said, his tone mild but strong as folded steel. "He is older than you, Loki, and has more skill. He is able to do things you are not yet ready for. I would have thought the incident on Alfheim would have taught you that."

The warmth in Loki's cheeks heated even more at the gentle chastisement. "I did well against that serpent; I struck a true blow—"

"You could not handle it alone, and you certainly could not handle the Vargr alone," Odin declared. "Loki, my son, you are smarter than this. Stop trying to be your brother and simply be yourself. In time you will both be men, but you are not that yet."

The prince lowered his eyes, a wave of humiliation washing over him. "I didn't think there would be more than one," he admitted in a strained whisper.

"There always are." Odin rose to his feet, standing over him once more. "There are always more foes than you expect. Plan accordingly, and you will be ready for them."

It was good advice, but his father was not finished. His brow wrinkled sternly. "And remember this, Loki. You are a prince of Asgard. When you endanger yourself you endanger others. If it seems that you cannot be allowed out without escort and guard, you will not have permission to leave the palace. Do you understand?"

It was monsterously unfair, but he nodded wordlessly, not trusting himself to speak. If he cried out in protest, he surely would be locked away, and besides he was certain his voice would tremble. He would not show such weakness in front of his father.

"Good. Now. Your mother tells me you have locked yourself away in here with books from the library, and Thor tells me a strange story of how you killed the two vargr. I would hear it from you."

Loki blinked uncertainly. He could discern no hint of Odin's thoughts in his face or voice; any inclination he might have possessed to boast of his newfound talents had withered under the weight of the Allfather's lecture. But surely he already knew the answer. Trying to hide it from him would only result in another sermon.

"After we went to Alfheim I wondered if there was an easier way to defeat the serpent," he explained, choosing his words carefully. He had been proud to cultivate a talent that few if any seemed to possess, but now he wondered if there was some prohibition on magic that he had never heard about. "A book told me they were afraid of magical fire, and so I found a book on that."

"And so the damage to the library is finally explained," Odin said sternly.

"Ah, yes father, that was an accident," he said, ducking his head again in chagrin. "But I have been learning ever since. I can control the fire now, and…."

"Hmmm."

The interruption shushed him, and he sneaked a peek up. Odin was staring at him closely, his thoughts again unreadable. There was certainly no pride or encouragement to be found there, though at least there was no horror or disgust. "It is an… odd path you choose to walk, my son. It is not a talent many are gifted with. You are certain it is a skill you wish to hone?"

Loki's green eyes widened and he nodded quickly. "Yes, yes definitely. I'm good at it, father. It feels right. You told me not to try to be Thor, right? Well, this is what I am good at, just as Thor is good with that axe of his. I can do this, and do it well, I'm sure of it."

"Hmmm." Another wordless, cypher-like rumble escaped the Allfather, and he stared at his son a while longer before finally nodding once. "Very well. You may continue your studies, though I ask that you practice them where others, not to mention the surroundings, will not be harmed by any accidents. The top of the Stellan Tower is empty; I shall let it be known that it is your place and you are not to be disturbed while you are there. Perhaps we can find you a teacher, if we can identify a trustworthy one."

Loki's smile flashed and his eyes brightened. "Thank you father, I—"

"But you are to neglect your weapons training no longer. A prince of Asgard is a warrior above all else. You will make no more excuses now that you are healthy."

He swallowed and nodded. "Yes sir."

"Good. Your mother expects you at the feast celebrating the hunt. You will be there?" At Loki's nod he smiled. "Good. And son, I am sorry about your horse."

Loki flinched at the simple words, but Odin had already turned and did not see the reaction. Nor did he see his son's hands begin to tremble as he left the room.

Only when the doors were closed did Loki allow a pained gasp to escape. He had thought, he had hoped, that Asgeirr had won free. The stallion was swift, certainly swifter than the vargr. He had assumed that he had rejoined the hunting party, that even now he was contentedly napping in the stables.

With a soft cry Loki folded to the floor and hid his face in his hands. The pain was not physical, it was not the razor-sharp pain of having his shoulder ripped open, but somehow it hurt even more. His fault. He was not good enough, and Asgeirr had paid the price for it.

"Brother?" Thor's voice was hesitant.

Loki groaned softly; how he wished his father had locked the doors! "Go away," he muttered, wiping almost violently at his eyes and starting to rise. A hug knocked him back to the ground.

"I'm sorry. I had to tell him. Are you in trouble?" Thor asked, settling down beside him. While he dropped one arm, he kept the other one wrapped inescapably around his thin brother.

"What?" Loki asked uncertainly, then realized what his brother was talking about. With his triumph in ashes, it was difficult to talk at all. "No, I… no, it's… fine. He might find me a… a teacher."

"Well that's good then, right?" the blond prince asked uncertainly. "What's troubling you?"

"I…." Loki swallowed. Thor would never cry over a horse. He should not either. He was about to issue a denial, but his brother shook his head and frowned fiercely.

"Do not think to tell me that it is nothing. If someone has hurt you, tell me and we will hunt them down together. If you need something, I will get it. You're my brother; I'll take care of you."

Something inside him wanted to cry out in frustration – he could take care of himself, and he did not have any problems that could be solved by the application of fists or sharp objects. Thor always thought things were so simple! But that startling, rebellious sliver inside him could not stand against the guilt that had crushed him to the floor, nor against the blazing earnestness in his brother's blue eyes.

"Asgeirr," he confessed, sudden tears obscuring his vision, his cheeks flushing once more. "I thought he … got away."

Thor exhaled and pulled him close again. "I'm sorry, little brother," was all he said, but it was enough to send the tears rolling down Loki's cheeks. Shaking, the younger prince buried his face in his brother's shoulder and sobbed quietly. He knew his sorrow was a weakness, one he would have to banish if he was ever going to be a true prince, but his brother's embrace would not allow it. Warm and sheltered, he let his grief run free.

But not for long. Even though Thor wisely said nothing, his brother was tense and Loki could tell he was a little uncomfortable. So he drew a deep breath and willed the tears away, stuffing them deep down inside where they would not escape. Freeing a hand, he sniffed, leaned back, and wiped at his face. "Thanks."

Thor reached up to ruffle his hair and he allowed it. "No worries. You'll be at practice tomorrow?"

He nodded, and his brother smiled. "Good. Back to normal, then. Come to the feast; we'll drink to your first kill."

"Sounds good," he said with a small smile, letting Thor pull him to his feet. "I'll see you then."

With a cheerful wave his brother left. Only then did Loki's false smile fade.

(end part ten)