LOST CREATURES XII

For all his acknowledgement of both his father's superior wisdom and his father's stated concerns about Loki's compliance with the stipulated conditions of the Bifrost tests, Thor freely acknowledged that he could not fathom being unwilling to return to Asgard. For all it's attractions, Midgard was still an imperfect, rapidly-changing world, where the humans (who had taught him much about fitness to rule and rightness, it was true) eerily blurred gender roles in a most un-Asgardian fashion; the Man of Iron, for instance, made no secret of being the smith responsible for creating his own armour (so powerful, so advanced, it was as if this 'clean energy' was seidr flowing through it's wires). Despite that, he fought hard and well to ensure no taint of argr, of unmanliness, could be attached to him. But he was Midgardian, not Aesir; building was right for him, as much as for the Dvergar. That the Man of Iron had forged an empire of wealth on the basis of his smithery ability, his creativity, (while utterly unthinkable by the standards of Asgard) did not negate the fact that he'd done it - and was lauded for it - on Midgard.

But perhaps that was what it meant to be human. Thor's heart ached for his brother; while Loki had set out to place himself above them, had he not done so it was painfully clear that in that mortal realm, he might have found a world that would have welcomed his abilities and rewarded them with the adulation he apparently craved. A pleasant place to pass a brief sojourn now and then, to get his cursed creativity out of his system, before returning to Asgard to behave as a prince ought to. Perhaps, if that had been the case, Thor could have understood Odin's dire remonstrations to ensure his brother's prompt return; ceding responsibility had it's own seductive allure.

Now, of course, Midgard would never provide that sanctuary.

Not that that was necessarily a bad thing; shamed or not, Loki was a prince of Asgard. Destined to stand behind his brother and serve his sibling's throne in one manner or another. It was only right, only true and good and proper that he do so. Odin could easily raise his prodigal second son to that position again after the Bifrost test, were it successful. Or, of course, he could simply make it part of Loki's penance, though Thor hoped his little brother would not see it that way. Perhaps that was where Frigga's gentle hand could be seen; deftly guiding the stated punishment into a more productive channel; if Loki realised he were forgiven, surely surely he would embrace his role as royal counsellor with grateful enthusiasm, surely he would work towards being deemed worthy.

Uneasily, Thor remembered Odin's words on the Bifrost, when the life - and heart - of his second son had seemingly hung in the balance. No understanding of what the brunet had been desperate to achieve, no value, no hope, no forgiveness. . . No, Loki.

His brother's devastated face as he let go, tattered shreds of innocence streaming off it like the salty tears leaking unheeded from his eyes, had haunted Thor's dreams for months. He wondered if Loki had ever cried since. He wondered if Loki had ever stopped questioning his own merit. He knew Odin had never expressed any sentiment valuing his second son, had never deemed him worthy.

He wondered if Loki would now accept if Odin offered it. Oh, how he hoped so. But. . . But now, there was that niggling seed of doubt, where before there was certainty. Of course Loki wanted to be worthy in their father's eyes. Look at the lengths he'd gone to achieve that! Surely that hadn't changed, had it?

As it was, Odin's choice of the private royal gardens as location for this discussion was probably wise, and certainly calculated. Having this meeting in the throne room would set the wrong tone, and doing it in the forge where Loki now tended to lair? equally as undesirable. But here? In the garden where Loki had played as a child, where he and Thor had sat with their mother as she read stories to them, where many happy picnics had been taken? The only venue in the palace where Loki had never, in the past or present, been punished? This was as close to neutral ground as Asgard would offer.

Loki, when he appeared - flanked by the two guards who had conveyed Odin's summons - did not appear to take it as such. Perhaps it was that the guards stood behind him as they would a prisoner, perhaps it was that they were armed, perhaps it was that guards had delivered the message (and then escorted him), rather than a palace servant or Thor himself, but Loki carried himself tall and straight, his proud grace undiminished by the tension threading through his thin frame as sharp, darting green eyes took in Odin's seat on one of the benches and Thor's easy ready-stance next to him. Subtle cues, true, but Thor knew his brother - or had done so - and could easily enough see the signs.

This was not Loki coming to parlay on neutral ground. This was Loki fully expecting some torment, and cautiously working out how bad it was likely to be, how he could talk his way out of it, or if he even could be bothered to try.

The sight shook Thor to the core. Did his little brother really expect only punishment when he saw his family? Did he really anticipate only torment each time he laid eyes on his parents and brother? Loki was loved! His family cherished him! That he now viewed them with well-hidden dread - how had that happened?! Why?! Odin was ever just and righteous, Frigga as well - any discipline they dispensed was always well deserved, and not even Loki could argue that he had not warranted penance for his crimes this time.

But there it was. That subtle tension thrumming through his brother, the same that Thor had seen a hundred times on their adventures and quests; the taut quicksilver that threaded through the brunet when he expected an attack but was unsure from whom, exactly, it would come. Then Loki pulled a flanking move; before being ordered - or forced - he folded to his knees. A perfect picture of a prisoner before a judge. Beautifully executed, a single hairsbreadth shy of being sarcastic, and utterly unanticipated. Conceding ground before it was demanded? Utterly unexpected. What are you up to, Loki?

Battles can be fought with words, and Loki was long since past master of that form of combat. Fighting with silence? Well, it seemed that the mischief god was proving adept at that, too.

But Odin was having none of it.

"Loki," He acknowledged, making no move towards the kneeling figure, though he dismissed the guards with a wave of his hand. Silently, they took up watchful positions at the entry to the garden, just out of earshot. "I have reached a decision about your Bifrost."

In front of him, the mischief god knelt silent, eyes downcast, but sheer challenge screamed through the very line of his shoulders. Beside his father, Thor stirred uneasily; this could go so very wrong, and Frigga was not here to cool the friction between estranged father and son.

"It will be tested. It will be travelled upon." Odin gestured grandly. "You will be its first test subject." In front of him, Loki might as well have been carved of stone. But Thor ignored his younger brother's uncharacteristic silence; Odin had not, after all, given him leave to speak.

"You will travel to Midgard, under the guard of Hogunn of the warriors three. Should you make any move that would threaten the Midgardians, Hogunn has orders to stop you."

In front of him, Loki's face might as well have been carved of stone, though Thor thought he caught the faintest flicker of an eyebrow. He had to agree; sending a prince who had cheerfully rampaged through a city with only a single guard - no matter how proficient with weaponry that guard was - seemed either insulting or woefully short-sighted. Of course, sending more than one guard on what could be a messy, fatal failure of an experiment was like unto spending the lives of his subjects like cheap coin; distasteful to the Allfather.

"He will also have the means of carrying out those orders; your bonds will be modified before you depart to limit both your seidr and your speech. Once you have succeeded, you will return immediately. I would not presume upon the Midgardians' goodwill by leaving a criminal serving his sentence in their midst." Deliberately hurtful, provocative words, Thor had to fight a wince as his father uttered them. Despite Odin watching him closely for his reaction, in front of them Loki seemed utterly indifferent. "I give you leave to reply."

Tense moments passed. Loki, unsurprisingly, was silent, persisting in his refusal to speak even semi-voluntarily to his family. Odin's brow pulled down with thunderous ire.

"If you have anything you wish to communicate, now may well be your last opportunity for some time. Once I've modified your silencer, your guard will have the key control of to whom and when you may speak. And Hogunn is well known for his brevity."

Next to his father, Thor stirred uneasily. Father is wise! He is all-knowing! He must know that the Bifrost works, else why strip Loki of the seidr he could use to save himself in a disaster!? This must be a test of Loki's loyalty, his remorse! I must have faith in Father. He knows what he is doing. But does Loki? Oh, my brother!

Loki's silence stretched, moments into minutes, into aeons, becoming - for Thor - ever more unbearable. If the Bifrost failed, if Loki died attempting passage between worlds for the good of Asgard, then to have his last free-spoken words be of anguish, of despair, of mistrust (Have not my word for it. You won't believe me. You never do.) was more than Thor could bear!

"Brother, please! Please!" His voice cracking as he all but begged. "Be sure your Bifrost works before we do this! Remember, you risk both yourself and our sheild-brother!"

In front of him, Loki stirred briefly, eyes darting towards the guards - the exit - his carefully closed face a study in nonchalance highlighted with cracks of the finest madness seeping through. Wild, unpredictable, it was as if his brother were gone and in his place sat fire and madness and chaotic genius and nothing even remotely Asgardian. If he heard Thor's plea to guard the life of his shield-brother, Loki's own sometime comrade in arms, he gave no sign.

Seated beside him, Odin sighed heavily, raising his hands towards the collar around the mischief god's neck.

"There's a narrow line between genius and insanity, Loki, and you tread upon it." The one-eyed king noted ponderously, seidr gathering in his palms with an obvious effort.

"Tread it? No, Odin of Asgard, I never tread it." He paused, a vulpine grin slashing across his face in a glint of teeth and too-bright eyes. "I dance it."

The unsettling leer remained, unwavering, even as the bonds around Loki's neck and arms and feet thickened and darkened; more obviously shackles than ever before, though the two links that hung from each manacle remained uncoupled. Loki's head remained high, even as he struggled to stand under the increased weight, as the faint luminescence of seidr that always threaded beneath his skin damped down to a mere whisper.

Leaning back, more spent than perhaps he cared to admit, Odin waved the guards forward.

"Take him back to his forge, to the Bifrost and guard him there. I would not have him do anything . . . rash. Sir Hogun will join you shortly."

When they had gone, when he was once more alone with his son, Odin turned to the crown prince.

"I will send you now." He stated simply. "You will travel to Midgard, and ensure their preparations are adequate. Though I know well that they've every incentive to treat Loki's arrival with the utmost caution anyway, they will not be happy with his return. Even bound and silenced and with his seidr damped, he is a threat to them. You must show them our good faith by your presence, and ensure they see the new Bifrost as a boon; I would not have them tamper with that anchor point while it remains Asgard's sole link to Yggdrasil." Standing heavily, Odin gestured briefly to the blond god.

"Offer them what aid you can, my son, but prevent them from slaughtering your brother. Asgard has need of him yet."

"Yes, Father." Thor nodded, his grip around Mjollnir tightening as the familiar tingle of transit raised the hairs on his arms. Though I'd protect him anyway, and you know it!

Then, he had no time to think. Then, the sky split and the lightening rose, and he rode it and Odin's seidr to Midgard.