Thirteen years earlier…

Loki opened his eyes slowly, his head throbbing. He took in his surroundings, his mind still addled with sleep. Funny, the underworld looked remarkably similar to his room. He had expected Hel to have a rather drab atmosphere.

"You're awake," Frigga breathed, embracing him. "We thought we had lost you." Loki turned his head, and saw the All-Father standing nearby.

Ah, he wasn't dead then.

"Where's Thor? Is he alright?" His voice sounded odd, like it had fallen into disuse.

Frigga averted her gaze. "You've been unconscious for days. A lot had happened since then," she said quietly.

The trickster frowned. It wasn't like her to be evasive. "What do you mean? Where's my brother?" he asked again, getting more anxious as his parents continued to be silent. Loki tried to sit up, but a sharp pain shot up from his arms and his ribs protested from the sudden movement. It felt like every inch of his body had been beaten to a pulp.

"Calm down, son," Odin said, pushing him gently back down on his bed. "You are not fully healed yet."

If anything, it made Loki more agitated. The trickster then tried to clamber out of his bed; he would crawl to Thor's room if he had to, injuries be damned.

The Aesir king waved a hand, and his son slumped back down, unable to move. Loki gaped at Odin, speechless that the All-Father used seiðr to restrain him. Getting over his surprise quickly, Loki tried again. "Please, I want to see Thor," he begged, desperation lacing his tone.

Beside him, Frigga started weeping.

"He's not here," Odin answered softly, watching Loki's expression fill with anguish. He regretted causing Frigga and Loki's distress, but the god of thunder needed to grasp humility and self-control. Otherwise his headstrong son would lead Asgard into ruin.

"Your brother needs to learn a lesson. I'm sorry, but it had to be done."

Loki could only stare at the ceiling, too numb to say anything.

"He doesn't know I'm Laufey's son, does he? He wouldn't have allowed a frost giant to be his brother," the trickster said after a while. His voice was flat and emotionless, but a steady stream of tears trickled down, wetting his pillow. Since he was young he had suspected that Odin and Frigga were not his biological parents. But he had never imagined his real father would be the Jotun king, of all people.

Frigga held her distraught child close to her chest. "That's not true. Thor loves you, whether you're brothers by blood or not," she said ardently, while wiping away Loki's tears. "You are our son. The moment Odin placed you in my arms, I loved you as if I'm the one who carried you in my womb and gave birth to you. Please believe us."

Loki couldn't bring himself to look at his parents; their betrayal hurt more than the wounds Laufey inflicted on him. "Why didn't you tell me earlier?"

"We only wanted to protect you. We didn't want you to feel any different," the All-Father reasoned. "My son, this doesn't change anything."

Loki gave a broken laugh. He cried until he fell asleep in Frigga's arms.

It took Loki a couple of months until he made a full recovery. Sif and the Warriors Three visited him from time to time, trying to engage him in a conversation, but he ignored them. Whether their sudden interest on his well-being was spurred on by guilt or gratitude, Loki couldn't care less. If they had not encouraged Thor from going to Jotunheim, he would not have been banished in the first place.

The god of mischief was currently doing research, stacks of books and papers covering every inch of his desk. He was listing down all the known Bifrost coordinates, numbering in the hundreds. Heimdall wouldn't tell him the god of thunder's whereabouts, so he had to figure out himself where Odin mostly likely banished Thor. Loki presumed that the All-Father would not exile Thor in any of the enemy territories because he didn't have the means to protect himself. On the other hand Odin wouldn't put him in any of their allies' realms either, or it wouldn't be much of a punishment. That left only the two neutral realms, Nidavellir, the land of the dwarves, and Midgard.

Loki cursed himself for taking Thor's ring away; it would've instantly given him his brother's exact location anywhere in the Nine Realms. Instead he had to hit all these Bifrost sites one by one and hope for the best that Thor was nearby. He agreed with Odin that the thunderer needed to be taught some self-restraint, but banishing Thor to live as a commoner was a bit much, even for him. Loki could only imagine how traumatic it was for the crown prince, the second strongest Aesir, to be brought so low. His brother must be feeling helpless right now, so far away from home.

With that thought in mind, Loki resumed his work with renewed fervor; quickly writing down the coordinates so he could commence his search for Thor as soon as possible. As he started arranging all his notes into a neat pile, he found a small piece of parchment in the middle of his table. The trickster picked it up and read it.

I have something that belongs to you. Meet me at Mount Galdhøpiggen.

Loki stared at the note with growing unease. Galdhøpiggen was the highest peak in Jotunheim. He flipped the parchment over, looking for the name of the person who penned the note. Nothing.

That couldn't be right. He couldn't recall losing anything; he wasn't careless like Thor. Was this a trap? Laufey could've sent this so he could finish him off. The idea of an Aesir-raised interloper ascending the throne didn't sit too well with the Jotun king; he would've executed Loki that night if Odin had not intervened.

The trickster pondered on it a little bit longer. If Laufey caught him it was a certain, agonizing death. He'd done stupid, foolhardy things in his life (granted, it usually concerned Thor. It seemed whenever the thunderer was involved all his logic, rationality, and sense of self-preservation take a swan dive out the window), and he knew he was pushing his luck, but he had a feeling that whatever this was, it must be pretty important. Maybe it would help him see his brother again. It was a long shot, but it was worth a try.

Making up his mind, Loki put on his armor, gathered his knives, and sheathed his sword. He wasn't planning on fighting anyone, but it helps to be prepared.

Loki arrived in Jotunheim using the numerous secret paths dotting the Yggdrasil without any trouble; he suspected not even Heimdall knew half of these alternate routes. That would explain why those Jotuns were able to reach Odin's vault. He made a mental note to seal those that led directly to Asgard once he got back home.

Mount Galdhøpiggen loomed before him. Even though it was only mid-afternoon, the mountain seemed to have a shadow blanketing its craggy peaks, giving it an ominous appearance.

The trickster shivered a bit. He was seriously considering turning back; he realized if things went down south, Odin would not be able to bail him out this time. The note didn't even say where the meeting place was. Was he supposed to climb up? Or just wait here at the foot of the mountain? Was he even on the right side?

As if sensing his arrival, a small entrance materialized before his eyes, just enough for him to fit through. Loki saw narrow stone steps leading downwards, both sides lit with floating orbs of blue flame.

Loki hesitated. This situation had danger written all over it. It didn't look like regular-sized frost giants could fit inside and attack him while he was descending, but that didn't mean they weren't waiting for him downstairs.

The god of mischief cast his magic out, scanning for Jotuns gathered around for an ambush. Loki found only one, and it was a magic user.

It didn't ease his apprehension much, but at least he didn't have to battle a horde of angry frost giants like last time. Loki entered the doorway cautiously and stayed at the top of the landing, his senses on high alert. He was expecting the door to vanish as soon as he entered the threshold but it didn't. He could still leave if he wanted to, but he had come this far. He wasn't about to back out now.

Loki pulled out his sword and started his descent, deep into the heart of the mountain.

After what felt like hours, Loki found himself in an underground cavern the size of a cathedral. Countless blue spheres hung suspended in the air, lighting the whole place with a cool glow. The god saw a lone frost giant waiting for him. As he walked nearer, Loki observed the Jotun was quite ancient, the oldest he had met so far. His face was wizened with age, and he had a slight stoop. Nevertheless, he was still a good two feet taller than Loki.

"Welcome, Prince Loki," the Jotun rumbled, bowing his head respectfully towards the trickster. His voice was deep and it carried far, like the dull roar of an avalanche. "My name is Mimir. I've been waiting for you."

Loki eyed the frost giant warily, keeping his distance. "Were you the one who sent the note?"

Mimir nodded. He saw the prince had his sword out. "You have no need of that," he said, spreading his hands in a calming manner, "I mean you no harm."

The god stared at Mimir. He may not look like it, but Loki could sense he was powerful sorcerer. Magic flowed out of the Jotun, filling the whole cavern with it, but he didn't feel any hostility coming from the frost giant. Loki put his sword back into its scabbard, but his hand remained on its hilt.

Mimir just watched him, a small smile tugging his lips. He regarded Loki like how a grandfather would gaze at his favorite grandson. "I've been watching you through the years. You've grown into a fine prince," he stated, pride distinct in his voice.

Loki shot him a confused look.

"I had served as the king's adviser for three generations. I was there when you were born," Mimir supplied.

That piqued Loki's interest. Perhaps Mimir could tell him how he ended up with the Aesir, in Odin's family, no less. "Do you…," the trickster paused, "…know where my mother is?" he asked, his expression hopeful. Jotunheim currently did not have a queen; whatever happened to Laufey's wives was anybody's guess.

Mimir's smile waned, appearing reluctant to answer the question. "Queen Fárbauti passed away shortly after giving birth to you. I'm sorry," he said faintly. "She was a benevolent woman. You take after her."

"Oh."

The frost giant noticed that Loki's eyes were misty, disappointed once again. It saddened him that life had not been too kind on his prince and he had suffered so much throughout the years. Still the young god remained steadfast on his principles, despite it all. Fárbauti would've been pleased to have such a strong son.

"So that makes Byleistr and Helblindi my half-brothers," Loki mused aloud.

"Yes," Mimir said.

Loki grimaced. He didn't exactly have an affable relationship with those two; he doubted the knowledge of them being related would straightaway extinguish the longstanding animosity the Jotun princes felt towards him. The trickster wondered if Laufey had told them yet.

Meanwhile Mimir was whispering a spell, and a pillar of solid rock rose up from the ground. It split into two with a loud crack, revealing a white sphere no bigger than an apple. It was dim at first, but it lit up like a supernova as soon as Mimir touched it. The Jotun scooped it from the air, and held it out to Loki. "This belongs to you."

Loki turned his face away, temporarily blinded by the intense light. He threw out a hand, trying to block it out. "What is it?"

"Your power."

"Come ag-," Loki began, but was cut short when the orb zoomed straight at him. He didn't have a chance to react. It hit him with such force that he was knocked off his feet.

The effect was immediate. His whole frame seized up, his back arching off the floor. Lightning sizzled in his blood, searing into his bones. Magic churned underneath his skin, fusing with every cell in his body.

It was too much; Loki didn't think he could contain all of it. He was already filled to the brim, any more and he would burst.

Just when he could no longer endure it, the pain gradually vanished, and he was left with an odd, tingling sensation.

Mimir hovered nearby, worry etched on his face. "Are you alright, my prince?"

"You could've warned me first," Loki wheezed, as he struggled to catch his breath.

"My apologies. I didn't expect your magic to go off like that. It must've been because it was separated from you for so long," Mimir said, embarrassed. He helped the young Jotun get back up again.

As the last traces of discomfort finally vanished, Loki started to feel really good. In fact he never felt this wonderful his entire life. Most of the time he felt tired and frequently collapsed if he overexerted himself. It was always a sore point for him that he was so weak compared to the others. He had often felt that he was not fully complete; in the back of his mind he knew that he wasn't supposed to be this feeble. But now…

Mimir led the dazed prince to a chair, and Loki gratefully collapsed on it. All this magic coursing through him was akin to quaffing a whole barrel of mead. This was heady stuff.

"Why did you hide my magic in the first place?" the trickster inquired finally, after the initial shock and exhilaration had worn off. Loki couldn't help but be miffed; this kind of power could've saved him from a lot of angst and humiliation right from the beginning.

The displeasure must've shown in his face, because Mimir flinched.

"I did it for your own protection," the Jotun reasoned, "I had to make sure Laufey never found out how powerful you are."

Loki's brows furrowed. "Go on."

Mimir conjured another chair and made himself comfortable, knowing he had a lot of explaining to do. Loki had been kept in the dark long enough. "You were born at the time of the Great War. It started when Laufey attacked Midgard to expand his territory. He used the Casket of Ancient Winters to slaughter thousands of people. Then Odin came with his entire army and pushed our forces back to Jotunheim. The Aesir were already outside the palace when your mother went into labor. When Laufey saw you, he wanted to kill you right then and there for being born a runt. I implored him to use you as an offering to Ymir instead, so the tide of battle would turn to our favor. My plan was to leave you in the temple for a few days, then slip you out the palace. Our people would simply assume that you had died, and I would've raised you as my own."

Mimir paused, gathering his thoughts. Until now it was painful for him to relieve that fateful night.

"As I placed you on the altar, I noticed that your magic was steadily growing stronger," he continued. "You were only a few hours old, but you already had the same level of power of someone who had already lived for centuries. This terrified me. If Laufey or anyone found out…," the giant broke off, remembering everything clearly. He recollected how his hands shook as he held the tiny prince. "If he managed to corrupt you, he would no longer have any use of the Casket. You'd be Laufey's weapon of war," Mimir narrated, his eyes haunted. "The kind of destruction you're capable of…I had to take some of your magic away. You were too young to handle such immense power."

Loki felt gorge creeping up his throat, and he swallowed thickly. He didn't doubt any of Mimir's words. "How did the All-Father fit in all of this?"

"He and his brothers came into the temple looking for the Casket, just as I was finishing the spell. Odin and I are old friends, so I didn't fear for my life. He asked what a baby was doing in a temple and I explained to him your situation. Afterwards he offered to take you in. I wasn't expecting that from Odin, since he already has a child of his own. I was reluctant at first, but then I realized you'd be better off living in Asgard. Jotunheim had been in turmoil ever since Laufey took over. As much as I wanted for you to stay here in your own realm and grow up with fellow Jotuns, I knew you'd be safer in Asgard. And Odin is a good man. You'd have a proper family, with a mother, brother, and uncles to look after you. As soon as you were safe with Odin, I fled the palace. I couldn't stomach anymore of Laufey's madness. I never returned," Mimir explained, rubbing his face tiredly. He gazed at Loki, remorseful.

"I'm sorry I took your magic away. Please understand; I merely did what I thought was the best course of action at the time."

Loki nodded. He couldn't bring himself to be angry at Mimir, when Laufey had taken so much from both of them.

The two Jotuns just sat quietly for a few minutes, lost in their own thoughts.

"So why did you give my full power back? I've managed to survive without it so far," Loki asked evenly. Considering all the dangerous stunts he had pulled throughout his life, it was nothing short of a miracle he was still walking around, and well, not dead.

Mimir was startled by Loki's calmness. His prince was taking the news quite well; he had expected yelling and some explosions at least. The boy never ceased to surprise him.

"After finding out my father is Laufey, I don't think anything can surprise me anymore," Loki shrugged, as if reading his mind.

Mimir shook his head. "I was arrogant in thinking I could keep this a secret forever," he said ruefully, "when we all know that the truth tends to come out in the most inopportune moment."

Loki snorted. That was the understatement of the millennium, if there ever was one.

"I gave your magic back so you'd have a chance against Laufey and your brothers. They are the three strongest Jotuns; your power enables you to have an equal standing with them. You have to be ready," Mimir stated grimly.

The trickster gawked at him. "You make it sound like I'm going to fight them someday. I don't even want to rule," he protested.

"You have no choice; it's not a question of if but when. Everybody knows you're the crown prince of Jotunheim," Mimir insisted. "Laufey doesn't want you to be king because he considers you more of an Aesir than a Jotun. Helblindi does the bidding of Laufey. As for Byleistr, the law of primogeniture prevents him from ascending the throne. You know firsthand what he is like. He won't hesitate to kill you so he could rule."

"So what else is new? Those three have been actively trying to kill me for ages. The only difference now is that they have all the more reason to do so," Loki said wearily, getting ready to leave. He had his fill of unpleasant news for today.

"Wait," Mimir said quickly. "Before you go, conceal your power level first. Only you and I know about this. You can use the element of surprise to your advantage."

Loki did so, putting a spell on his ring so it would stay hidden at all times, even if he were unconscious. It amazed him how effortlessly he could do magic now; he merely had to will it, and it happens.

Sweet Odin.

The implication of having so much power just dawned on him at that moment. He stared at Mimir, eyes wide.

The older Jotun gave Loki a knowing look. "Your magic will continue to grow. There will come a time when you will be more powerful than the All-Father himself."

Loki's mouth went dry all of a sudden. "You shouldn't have given this back to me. What if I turn out like him?" he murmured, looking at his hands.

"Laufey is simply your father by blood, nothing more," Mimir replied. "You always have a choice, my prince. It is solely up to you which path you're going to take."

"And if I choose wrong?"

Mimir closed his eyes. "Then the Nine Realms will burn."

Loki rushed back to Asgard, greatly disturbed by Mimir's parting words. Then again, he couldn't really blame the old Jotun for making that ominous prediction. He wasn't the most stable person to begin with, and this kind of power could tempt even the most virtuous individual. He pushed those thoughts at the back of his mind. Right now his priority was finding the god of thunder. He had to make sure his brother was okay.

The god of mischief went straight to his room and grabbed his list of coordinates. At least his newfound magic would make his search for Thor a bit easier.

His hunch was right; Odin had exiled Thor in one of the neutral realms. He was in Midgard, specifically New Mexico.

Loki looked around the dry landscape. This had been a rather strange day. A couple of hours ago he had been in a frozen wasteland, now he was in the middle of a barren desert. Instead of trees there were cacti, and the flat expanse of land went on for miles in every direction.

He trudged along, careful not to run into those wicked looking plants. It wasn't long before he spotted a nearby town. He could feel Thor's presence grow stronger as he approached. It was already late at night; there was no one around and all the shops were closed.

Loki found himself in front of a small, nondescript house. He was mildly surprised; he had expected the thunderer to be either homeless or in jail. The god sensed two other inhabitants inside the dwelling aside from his brother. He made himself invisible before entering; he didn't want to scare the mortals.

Thor was sitting on a couch, watching tv. But he wasn't alone; there was a young woman snuggled beside him. She had fallen asleep, and her head was resting against Thor's shoulder. The god of thunder shifted a bit, causing the mortal's hair to fall on her face. Thor noticed and gently tucked it back behind her ear.

Loki looked away. He had seen Thor do this hundreds of times to various maidens. He should be used to it by now, but still his heart splintered each time.

Eventually the god of thunder fell asleep with the tv still on. Loki took a blanket and draped it over the two. He didn't want Thor to be cold.

His brother was fine. He wasn't sick or injured. It was also safe to assume Thor was being treated well by the Midgardians, at least by this woman.

He wanted to say many things, but his courage had failed him.

Loki gazed at Thor and the mortal. The sight made his chest ache.

"Take care, brother," he murmured. He dropped a light kiss on Thor's forehead and left.

Thor opened his eyes drowsily and looked around the room. He thought he heard Loki's voice, but there was no one there.

The god of mischief didn't bother using the secret paths and teleported directly to his room. He slid down the wall to the floor. Even with all the power surging through him, he felt hollowed out and spent.

He couldn't tell Thor the truth. What was he supposed to say? 'Hey, I'm not your brother and I happen to be a frost giant. I'm the thing you loathe the most.' He imagined the god of thunder's face; his expression of hate and revulsion directed towards him.

Loki pulled his legs to his chest and wept, realizing that his brother was truly lost to him. His world had ended and everything solid in his life had been swept away. He poured all his love into one person, and it was all for naught.

What was the point of staying? Continuing to live here in Asgard was only prolonging his agony. It was unbearable.

He wiped away his tears. He had cried enough for the past few months to last him for centuries. Loki promised himself that he would never let anyone hurt him like this again. He was done.

The trickster went to his desk and set to work. He began writing trade agreements and peace treaties; once the god of thunder becomes king he was going to leave. This was his parting gift; it would make the transition for Thor's reign go as smoothly as possible.

Loki never visited Thor again.