Author's Note: I have a lot of fun creating original characters that I hope compliment the story whilst remaining secondary to the main focus. I do hope they're enjoyed by you readers, as well!

I'm not entirely certain when the next update will be; I have things going on, and I have to do some pretty heavy editing and shifting of plotses, but we'll see. Thanks for bearing with me. :)

XI. Nauma

The raven returned the following night, earlier than Loki had expected, bearing with it the answer he had hardly dared hope for—Nauma would meet with him.

Loki read the message over twice before setting it to flame over a candle on his desk, and then he sat back again, pressing his steepled hands to his lips and considering carefully what he would say to her. It was not going to be easy. It would mean revealing much more than he was mentally prepared for, and though he knew it was necessary, the thought still made his insides twist.

Nauma was a strange creature—a strong, gnarled figure of impressive years and questionable scruples, and the bearer of a magic that was entirely her own. If Loki's abilities came from study, hers were innate, instinctive, drawn from the essence of Yggdrasil itself. Hers was a deep, untameable magic, one that could hurt and heal with equal force—and it was upon this power that Loki was now placing his reliance.

It was dangerous, of course. She swore allegiance to nothing and no one, as Odin had discovered long ago, but even he could not destroy her. It had been obvious, after that—and it was never clear precisely what had happened—that she was not welcome in the city. Loki had found her, though, in his exploration beyond the city walls in his youth, and he had been hungry for the knowledge that she could give him. She had seen he was different. In the end, Nauma had liked him, as much as she liked anyone.

At least, Loki thought, she had liked the boy he used to be.

He was to meet her in an old abandoned house on the very outskirts of the city, just within the walls. It was a place they had used once before, and though the years had blurred Loki's memory in places, he remembered it well enough. But it was a long ways, even by horse. He would have to risk an early start.

To his own surprise, Loki had little difficulty in escaping the citadel again. He was soon no more than a dark-cloaked figure mounted on an equally dark horse, riding quickly but not urgently through the streets as dusk fell.

The area near the house was deserted when he came to it nearly an hour later, and he dismounted quickly. He scanned both sides of the street again before raising his fist and knocking twice against the door. It opened a crack, an eye gleaming within, and Loki pulled his hood back in silence. As the door swung wider, he saw Nauma eyeing him flatly.

"I have taken a great risk in coming here for you, Loki."

"I know," he replied quickly. He ducked under the arch of the house without invitation, which earned him an admonishing mutter. "But I've been confined to the city by the command of the King, and he is—"

"He is your brother," she finished, cutting him off with no apparent effort. "It never stopped you in the past."

"He's not." Loki glanced over his shoulder. "Things have changed."

"Oh, yes, that I can see."

The house had not been occupied in some time, and its surfaces were softened by a layer of dust. Nauma kept up an irritable stream of muttering as she spun a lamp into the air, and then took a cloth and began brushing off the surface of a low table that sat in the middle of the room. Loki shrugged off his cloak, then rested his back against the wall and watched her in silence, knowing that she would speak to him again when she found it convenient, and not before. She did not seem to have changed; though her face and hands were as lined and calloused as he remembered, and her thick hair streaked with silver, she still moved with the vigour of a woman half her age. Not that anyone knew what that was, and Loki had learned long ago that it was unwise to press his curiosity on the matter.

Nauma looked up. "You look older," she said flatly, as though she knew exactly what had been passing through his mind moments before. "And it is not the passing of time that has done it."

Loki pressed his lips together but did not answer, uncertain if there was one to give. Nauma gave him a long, appraising look, and then abruptly pointed toward the table.

"Sit," she ordered sharply. "Sit, and tell me why you would have me risk my freedom for you."

Sensing the rebuke again, Loki dipped his head as he crossed the room and perched himself on the edge of the table. "I'm not ungrateful," he assured her quietly. His fingers curled automatically along the table rim.

"You had best be more than grateful if you expect my help." Her voice was curt, and her brows arched expectantly. "What have you brought me, Loki?"

Loki had prepared for this. He reached beneath his tunic and withdrew the three gold orbs, opening his palm to display them. "These came from the Queen's archives. Each contains a healing and protective spell—against injury, against poison, and against infection." He flicked each one into the air before him as he named it, until the three were hovering at eye level between himself and the old healer.

"Even now your insolence astounds me," Nauma murmured, but despite the words, her tone was mild, and Loki could tell that she was eyeing his gifts with interest.

"Does it?" he asked blandly.

"You would thieve from the very chambers of the All-Mother?"

Loki's jaw tightened ever so slightly. "I do what I must. If you don't care for them—"

"And you are deaf as well if you mistook that for a refusal." Nauma reached up, snatching the orbs from the air with an odd gleam of triumph. Loki almost expected a cackle, but instead, she merely tucked the spheres away and raised her chin, eyeing him with a sharp calculation.

"Now, Loki. Why have you summoned me here, to a city that would have my life in a sparrow's heartbeat?"

He hesitated, running his tongue over his bottom lip as he thought how best to phrase it. There was no easy way. "I was… hurt," he replied slowly, in a forced monotone, "over a period of time, about two years ago. And—it seems that even my powers have failed me. The wounds will not heal."

Nauma flipped one finger in a curt, demanding gesture. "Show me."

But Loki remained still, his eyes averted and his features slowly tightening. He had come here solely for this purpose, because he dared not go to Asgard's healers, and yet now that the moment had come he found himself suddenly reluctant to follow through. The scars of his exile held so much in their memory—far too much.

Nauma, of course, did not miss his hesitation, and by her expression, she was less than pleased. "Have you grown so arrogant in so short a time?" she demanded acidly. "That you have the audacity to summon me here and then change your mind?"

"You know not what I have endured!" Loki hissed back, his eyes darkening. "You have so little idea—"

"So be it!" She stepped brusquely away from him. "Loki does not desire my help? Then I have no desire to give it. Take your leave." And she indicated the door with a final jerk of her sharp chin.

Anger sparked in Loki's mind, but it did not last. He could not let it; he needed her, if only to do what he could not. Slowly, he unclenched his fingers from the table edge and dropped his head slightly, hoping that she would appreciate the gesture in its respect.

"Forgive me," he said, very quietly. "I have spoken of this to no one, and it is—more difficult than I anticipated."

He glanced up at her again as he finished, watching her out of the corner of her eye, and he saw in a moment that his words had borne fruit; there was curiosity in her face now, rapidly replacing the irritation. She could not help wanting to know his story, and even more, Loki knew that she liked being the only one to know it. He breathed a little easier.

Nauma was eyeing him still. "Show me," she repeated, "or I can do nothing."

With a low breath, Loki nodded his consent, and reached up to loosen the lacing at the neck of his tunic. He could feel her steely eyes upon him as he pulled the garment over his head and let it drop onto the table to his left. When he straightened, he met her gaze with an air of mingled apprehension and defiance.

Silence followed, but Nauma was quick to break it with a crisply ordered "Come here." She pointed to a place on the floor directly in front of her, and Loki, trying to suppress an anxiety he had still not quite been prepared for, slid from the table and walked to the place she had indicated. The night air shifted with a chill over his skin, but he hardly noticed; he was too intent on maintaining a frame of mind that would not betray him. He stared straight ahead with his jaw clenched as Nauma began to circle him. She was murmuring almost inaudibly under her breath, and only spoke more loudly when she had returned to face him directly.

"Do they pain you?"

Loki shook his head. "No. They have not for some time."

She made a noncommittal sort of noise, and then with a speed he had not expected, came forward and pressed her hand to his chest. Loki let out a faintly panicked hiss, and it was all he could do to stop himself from forcing her away. He flinched, all the same, and she shot him a very knowing look.

"If they do not pain you—"

"Not—physically." Loki's breath was coming short now.

"And among all the spells and salves of the All-Mother, you could find not one that would heal them?" Nauma lightened her touch, but still her claw-like fingers traced over the burns as though in fascination. Loki's hands curled at his sides.

"No," he conceded softly, "nothing." It was only half a lie. He glanced at her sidelong, without lowering his head, but the heavy lines of her face were difficult to decipher. He forced himself to ask the question he had been avoiding from the beginning. "Can you heal them?"

But though his disquiet was growing, but he did not receive his answer for some time. Nauma continued to look him up and down, her hand resting here or there along the scarring, and she seemed to hold very little concern for his mental state during the process. But after a while, he saw her frown begin to deepen, and her touch on his skin became more considered. "These are powerful marks indeed," she muttered, sounding both admiring and irritated. "But their nature is strange to me." Loki could hear the implicit question in her tone, but he did not oblige, and so she continued after a moment, "Fire could not have done such work." And here her eyes lifted to hold his. "These were made with deliberation."

Again Loki did not respond, but the aversion of his gaze was answer enough.

"So." Nauma stepped back and surveyed him with her bright eyes. "You have made me curious, very curious indeed. And there is someone out there who knows you very, very well."

Loki clenched his teeth. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, they chose their method of persuasion accordingly." Nauma pointed a finger at his chest. "I know your nature—your true nature. Someone has gotten to your head, Loki, and I do wonder—"

"Can you heal them?" Loki repeated savagely, cutting her off.

She arched both brows. "No."

Loki turned his back on her, quelling a soft sound of frustration in his throat. He realised now that he had been depending on this more than he'd thought.

"There is a peculiar energy to your scars, Loki," Nauma went on, and he could feel her watching him as he pulled on his tunic again. "I think only the one who placed them there would have the knowledge to remove them."

"He will never make that offer," Loki retorted bitterly, throwing the words over his shoulder without thinking.

"Who is he?"

Loki whirled on her, his glance dark with warning. "It matters not," he hissed.

"Not to me, but to you, oh yes, Loki, I think it does."

Ignoring this, Loki reached for his cloak. "You will speak of this to no one," he told her, bringing command to his voice again, soft and ominous, as he turned around. "Breathe one word of this, just one, and I will kill you myself."

Nauma's eyes hardened, and she did not flinch from him. "You would threaten one who taught you? I, who gave you sanctuary as a mere child when you were foolish enough to wander the mountains alone?"

Loki shook the memories away almost before they appeared to him and fixed her with a cold, deadly look. "If you remember nothing else from our words today," he hissed, "remember this: I have no loyalties anymore. I have paid my debts a hundred times over in the Void and the Dark, and I owe you nothing."

She smiled then, a slow, strange smile that did nothing to soothe him. "If that is what you choose to believe."

Loki said nothing. His features rigid, he drew his hood over his head, taking refuge in its shadow from the intensity of her gaze—but he could not block out the words that followed him, flat and cold, out into the night:

"Someday, Loki, your eyes will be opened and your lips unsealed—and on that day, O prince, on that day I will not envy you."