BIG edit in the last scene, took one out and wrote a new one. Didn't see this ending coming but it came. Posted 6/22, so reread if you read this chapter previous to that date. And yes, this needs work. Lemme know what sticks out like a bad rusty nail and I'll get onto fixing it.
Hawkz
What Might Have Been: Chapter XIII
Needle down, pull through, tauten thread, double check, needle up, pull through, tauten thread, double check, repeat. Tie knot, double knot, snip. Switch to blue thread. Frigga could not afford other thoughts. Steadying her hands was easy, it came with habit and the thousands of years of weaving. Each of her children had a handwoven quilt in their colors made by their mother. Loki was green and silver, Thor silver and red and Jane… Here Frigga smiled. She knitted the quilts when her boys were babes and had chosen the colors for them. Jane, capable of speech and stubborn opinions, told Frigga what colors she wanted:
Green and gold.
Silver was the color of the royal family, thus it could always be seen on their person sometimes in small, subtle ways. A bit of jewelry, a shine of careful stitching so that the metallic fabric caught the light, a blatant sash, a head piece or glittering armor. Jane didn't understand the political significance of it and while Odin did, they both agreed on the matter. No silver. Jane wanted a green and gold quilt. As what mothers and wives do, she ignored both of them. Jane got a green and gold quilt with a silver wolves loping along the borders in celtic knots. It was yet another thing Odin and Frigga disagreed on.
Stubborn old man, Frigga thought as she wove.
In the next room over the voices escalated into shouts again, vicious and petulant and seething rage. Thor and Odin would be red in the face, snarling at each other and demanding the other see reason, their reason. Neither was making any progress for the past three days.
Three days of Loki shut away in his quarters, denying all visitors—herself, Odin, Thor, the servants—and responding savagely when any of them dare breech his barriers. Thor was the bravest, foolish to try as Frigga stood outside wringing her hands and straining to hear. Initially, the words were too subdued to distinguish but then the cracked whip sound of magic stung the door, wood splintering and Loki was shouting, Thor shouting back while a magical barrier kept her out. She could force her way in, use seiðr to force them into submission. But that was not her way, certainly not with her children. Instead she called to her boys, begged for entry and had to make do with Thor walking stiff and pale from Loki's chambers, muttering darkly yet sadly under his breath. He gave no indication to his mother's presence as he marched out of the hallway nor did Loki acknowledge her beyond a caustic glare and flinch when he thought she tried to touch him. The doors to his quarters slammed with finality. Her magical projection fizzled away.
The castle remained in lockdown, servants restricted to hidden passages between rooms that led to the kitchens and workplaces, Frigga to her quarters and Jane to hers. Frigga gleamed enough to deduce how the Jotunnheim talks went—poorly—but this was unheard of. And then Odin told her Loki knew.
He knew.
Frigga's heart broke. My boy. She should be with him, she should be there to answer questions and assuage his fears and doubts. She should be there to be his mother as he would always be her son. Odin, her king, forbade it. Frigga called him a fool and he, one eye fierce, denied the title. He was no fool; he was a king! And as a king he would protect his own until this potential Frost Giant threat was put to rest.
Einherjar, the golden-clad soldiers worthy enough to protect and defend the castle, lined the hallways and stood sentry. Under no order but the king's would they allow her out of her chambers. Odin put them to good use. They round up the Frost Giants Odin did not slay and proceeded to acquire information from them—How long had they planned to attack the realm? Did they bring reinforcements? Where were the reinforcements?—but Heimdall warned of other Jotunns asking where their brethren were and Laufey, King of Jotunheim had questions. Tensions were building and knives unsheathed; the air weighted down with wary bloodlust and want of revenge on both sides. The soldiers claimed to see what happened in the throne room. Possessed or mad, a Frost Giant reached to attack their king; second prince of Asgard leapt to defend and the Jotunn cursed him with a spell; down went the second prince of Asgard, confined to his quarters and battling an enchantment threatening his sanity.
How close they were to the truth and yet so far.
Asgardians rallied around Loki's name—blood for blood, they demanded; retribution for this slight—and Odin juggled an ireful populace and disgruntled family. Odin had not gone to visit Loki since the God of Mischief and Lies secluded himself to his quarters. Frigga could not explain his thoughts. Deviltry took root in his mind, deafening his ears to the pleas of his family. And still Thor tried.
None of them were reaching Loki. Release Jane and Mother from their confinement. At least let their sister talk with Loki; she was closest to his heart, next to mother. Thor begged, humbling himself before his father and King for his brother. He saw the blue skin, he looked into those red eyes. He saw; he knew.
Loki was his brother; this, too, he knew. Played together, fought together, raised together—he had a brother and Odin a son and Jane a brother and those memories and emotions meant more than blood could give or take away. Please, father. Odin's refusal was unyielding. The shouting matches resumed and Frigga continued to stitch.
There was trouble in the House of Odin and she knew not how to fix it.
Thor pushed past the guards, his face goading them to deny him. He could use an excuse to relieve the tension knotting his shoulders and the Einherjar would be a good match. They were wise enough to let him pass or Odin's commands allowed him to do so. Thor had never been so wroth with his father. Neither had he ever doubted the man he also called king to such a degree. Odin was not doing right by his brother. He and Odin alone saw the change for what it truly was, the rest of the Einherjar's views obstructed by the thick bulk of the Frost Giant. Visiting his brother confirmed it.
The memory ached like a nasty bruise, stinging as if poked when he revisited it. His poorly chosen words, Loki's look of despair washed out by rage, regret and remorse until Loki prodded him with a retort, Thor replying in kind, and then shouting on both sides. The Heir Apparent rubbed his hands over his eyes, finding support against one of the pillars and deflated in a sigh.
Could he do nothing right?
Enervated lines carved into his face, the lack of sleep and restless thoughts hollowing his features, but Thor shouldered past them. He had a mission to do and just because he lacked the wit of his brother, un-brother yet family all the same, doesn't mean Thor could not be cunning given the right circumstances. These happened to be the right, necessary circumstances.
Gruff and grouchy, an older guard with a peppered mustache and aged lines grunted and moved to block the prince. "No entry under orders of the King." Thor did not immediately reach for Mjolnir.
"I will speak to my sister of important family matters and you will not deny me. Now move." The guard's back stiffened treasonously and Thor growled, hand slipping to his hip.
"Under orders of the King—" The guard's jaw was in no shape to finish the statement and Thor stepped over the crumpled form with cavalier unconcern. Clearly the younger guard was wiser for he stepped out of the prince's way and Thor opened the door to his sister's chamber.
"Thor?" She was halfway over the balcony's railing and precariously close to falling and breaking her neck. Squawking in a most undignified, unprincely manner, the thunderer rushed over, grabbing the scruff of her neck and hauled Jane back into the room. Heart rate slowing now that she was no longer in danger, Thor saw that she had shredded her sheets to make a rope—a thready, unstable rope—and had tied it to one of her bed posts. He admonished her with a frown. Jane defensively crossed her arms over her chest, replying to his frown in kind. "Like I was going to sit here and wait. Besides, I don't run fast enough to get by the guards, even with head-starts." Her tone told him she tried. Often.
"Do I want to know how one gets a head start on the finest warriors in the realm?" The smile told him, no he did not. Jane's smile quickly slid back to an uncertain line.
"Thor? What is going on?" Another sigh bloated his lungs and reluctantly, Thor released it.
"Sit down, Jane. We have much to discuss." He had to force Jane to sit again when he listed the events of the talks as he knew them and her eyes stayed troubled as he relayed Odin's orders to lock down the castle. Both agreed their father was acting strangely if not irrationally. Heimdall would know if more Frost Giants were in this realm yet the All-Father continued his manhunt and divided his family. Of Loki's Frost Giant blood Thor remained mute. It was not his place to tell, or rather he feared telling her, and preferred leaving the decision to Loki. He did, however, let it slip that Loki was adopted.
Jane took a deep breath and got to her feet. "Well?" she cocked an expectant eyebrow. "Let's go."
"Go?"
"You did not just come all this way to tell me of family drama and if that's all you intended then too bad. We're going to see Loki and talk emotional sense into him. Honestly, he's being such a baby."
"No, you don't understand—"
"Really? I don't understand what it's like being adopted?"
Thor ground his teeth. She was Loki's shadow alright; soaking up all his bad habits, sharp tongue included. "You cannot leave by the King's command. It is treason."
"Well, Dad's being a big baby too. There are no other Frost Giants here. Heimdall would see them if they were. He's just taking his anger out on us. Not like it's the first time he's been unfairly wroth." She moved about matter-of-factly, putting on boots, a green scarf and common worker attire. Thor had not moved and Jane finally stopped to look at him. Nervous knuckles rapped against his knee, not far from Mjolnir. "Siblings stick together, Thor." His lips parted to tell her Loki was a Frost Giant and therefore not her brother but he closed them. Loki never had been her brother, nor he hers, so what did Loki's Jotunn blood change? Nothing, Jane's heart told him. Nothing would ever change the meaning of these past score of seasons; Jane wouldn't let it. He let a small smile touch his lips.
Mortal, Midgardian Jane stronger than her two princely Aesir—Frost Giant—brothers; perhaps he should stop underestimating others different than he. Jane, Jane and Loki, had a habit of constantly proving him wrong in all the right ways.
"I'll be grounded for the next century and you the rest of you little life." It was a joke, a bad one, but Jane's grin held honest amusement.
"Good thing we both know how to slip past guards then, huh?" Thor grunted his agreement, Mjolnir's weight solid in his palm.
"Indeed. Now: Balcony or doors?"
Fenrir felt the blow buckle his spine and swallowed the yelp it induced. Master's eyes held scorching hate and went back to verbal lashings. "You knew as well didn't you? The truth under this skin, the monster playing pretend. You knew! And you never told me!" The magic cracked as a whip and Fenrir dodged the blow. He whined in the back of his throat, crawling on his belly to his master but the man hissed at him and struck again, forcing his wolf back.
"An Aesir raising a Jotunn hound, a wonder my father allowed it. Wouldn't want to give away his secrets, let his plans fall to ruin. Oh no, supposedly," a hysterical laugh chortled out, "supposedly he let me keep you out of the kindness of his heart. The wolf I found in Jotunheim, injured and alone and abandoned. What? Did he dare think like father like son?" Another magical strike, and in his poorly controlled state the blue skin bled through with his blood-borne powers and ice encased part of the marble floor. Loki looked down at his hands. These dormant powers of his grew stronger, from mere hoarfrost to chunks of burning dry ice that damaged his chambers in large sweeping motions; all instances of his poor control and volatile emotions getting the better of him.
Doggedly, Fenrir tried to reach his master again. He swung between moments of oppressive muteness and loud bouts of violence and tirades. Today was one of the latter. The ice nipped at Fenrir's paws but the wolf paid no mind. It was as Master said; he was a Jotunn-bred wolf, the cold did not frighten him. Thus, once more, he walked over to where his master was. Loki struck him and this time Fenrir did yelp. A look of regret passed over his face—it always did when his anger got the better of him—and Loki's feelings went from outrage to solicitude as his wolf hobbled on three legs, his forepaw dripping blood.
Loki's hands were hesitant but gentle and Fenrir did not shy from the approach of his master. "Oh, Fenrir, my boy, what have I done?"
Warm and wet Fenrir licked at Loki wherever he could and sunk his head into Loki's belly, sighing contently. This was Master, this was the man—Aesir, Frost Giant, whatever title these people give themselves, Fenrir had only one for him: Master Loki—this was the being who raised him, loved him and Fenrir would be loyal to him until the day he died. Therefore, Fenrir would forgive his master his moments of anger and sorrow. Perfection was an idea, not a reality, and creatures had their flaws. The silver wolf hummed in gratification when Loki's magic thrummed to life, healing the cuts and lesions from his breakdown. Fenrir felt tears drip on his muzzle and leaned ever closer to his master.
He would be here for Master, time and time again.
Commotion rattled the door, growing louder as if a bilgesnipe was rampaging up and down the hallway. Thor and Jane didn't care much for his magical boundaries enchanting his doorways and Loki readied to give them a scathing rejoinder when his brain processed Jane's presence.
Dread paled his face giving him a ghostly demeanor, which did not help his already ghoulish appearance with his unkempt hair and clothes. Swathes of dried and wet blood squeaked under his bare feet. Not her. Please not her. Any one but her. At least not like this.
"Get out," he rasped.
Jane turned to Thor. "You'll need to keep the guards busy. Give me two hours."
Thor rolled his shoulders. "Giving me the easy job, are we? But you'll have one. Odin will be alerted in time."
"Then get creative." The door shut behind Thor and the rattling commotion swept up again. Good to know his initial analogy of a biglesnipe rampaging the hallways was not so inaccurate. Loki sneered at the mortal.
"Get out," he repeated.
Jane stepped foolhardy close, forcing him to backpedal and hiss his displeasure. She ignored his commands. "We're going to talk Loki. Thor told me what happened." Loki went absolute white. His brother. No, no longer his brother. Just another traitorous Asgardian. Telling Jane, their sister, save not his sister, what he was underneath—how could he? Never before had Loki imagined Thor capable of such cruelty and the knives in Loki's heart plunged deeper. He hated them. He hated all of them. Jane did not seem to notice his silent sufferings. "You were attacked and learned you were adopted. I think you're overreacting—"
Loki was suddenly close, that inhuman speed working to his advantage as Jane stumbled back, eyes wide. Fearful. Of course she feared him. She hated him. What he was—a lie, a liability, an unlovable monster. Frost Giant. Loki's heart broke at what he saw in her eyes. Not her. Any one but her. Norns why, why her?
"I do not 'overreact' Jane." His voice was hoarse from lack of sleep and food and water, hollow like the sounds a soul makes when stuck in purgatory. "To learn everything anyone told you was a lie? To learn my parents shielded by true parentage from me for political playing and that their promises were vacuous and insincere since I was a babe? To learn what monstrous flesh hides under this glamour? Nay, I am not overreacting!"
Hot fury pulled out his magic involuntarily and it thrashed like a snake's tail, ripping up floorboards and drawing deep gashes in nearby furniture and walls. Jane took a step back and Loki read the horror on her face. Horrified of him, of what he was. Shameful as it was Loki felt tears slip past the corners of his eyes. He swiftly turned his back on her, mindful of her gaze.
"Loki…"
"I said get out, Jane, before I use force to make you do so." Consumed by his sorrow and rage, Loki did not notice her coming closer and jerked at her touch on his back. He leapt away from as an injured frightened animal.
Fenrir stood to the side, watching this interaction and unsure of any part he need play. Master was hurting inconsolably so and though Mistress offered love and kindness, Master rejected her at every turn.
"I'm not going anywhere Loki. Thor and I are worried about you. You're family. Always will be."
His forced chuckle was mirthless. "You're a terrible liar."
"Which is how you know I'm not lying, Loki." He sneered at her mock courage, a false show of bravery, and it repelled him.
"Kings have no need for monsters in their closets. They have enough skeletons taking up space there already." He repeated the word monsters and Jane did not understand why. Did he hate his origin so much? Was it such an awful thing not to be an Aeisr. That thought sent an unwelcome flutter through her stomach and Jane put it aside. This was not about her. This was about Loki.
"Loki, please, I love you and—" He all but screeched at her, cutting off her statement. His heart couldn't take such falsehoods.
"Do not lie to me!" His words dark as death. "You do not love me. No one loves me. No one loves Frost Giants. We slaughter them, we kill them, we repulse their appearance in the very depths of our beings as Aesir and mortal kind. We do not love them. So tell me not such a terrible, implausible lie, little Jane of Midgard. I know better. I know what you can and cannot love and no one loves this!" His face melted away, ridges and blue skin and red, red eyes.
Jane swallowed. "Loki, what…?" She did not look away. She held his eyes and then ran her gaze over his nose, cheekbones, up into the wild mess that was his hair and down again past his collar bone. Tentatively, one of her hands came up to touch him. Confusion made him slow and he leaned back from her reach. He eyed her warily, voice flat.
"What are you doing? You know better than to touch a Frost Giant Jane. Their skin burns others it is so cold."
Jane's brow knitted, mirroring his confusion. "I don't understand, Thor said you were attacked, how did your attacker—Loki? Are, are you a Frost Giant?" Though she voiced it as a question, those sepia eyes of hers already knew the answer.
Loki felt sick. Thor had not told her. He, he kept his secret, and like a fool, Loki spilled it. Jane stepped closer and fearful, Loki stepped back. Catching her gaze Loki was extremely bemused by the large grin she wore.
"I told him so. I told Thor there were nice, kind, beautiful Jotunns out there." His breaking heart dare piece part of itself back together at those words. Loki's fingers went crazy. His silver tongue went to lead; he had no verbal comeback for her admission.
Jane smiled kindly at him and Loki's hazy mind confused her image with that of Frigga—matronly, kind, all-inclusive, honest affection, even for he a Frost Giant—until he blinked his eyes clear. No fear, never fear, in her gaze, only love. Loki shyly took another step back, the glamour creeping up to cover his blue skin, green overcoming red. "I, I don't…" Her tiny hand found his and he stilled. Jane considered it a triumph that he didn't jerk out of her grasp. It emboldened her to hug him. Loki stopped breathing.
"I love you, Loki. Brother and lover and damnable trickster all. That's all that matters to me. I don't need a king or an Aesir or a not-Aesir. I just need you." Jane looked up and found she held a very fragile man. Thousands of years old and he looked lost and frightened as a boy. He was too tall for her to kiss without his help but standing on her tip toes and getting him to lean down a few inches gave her the ability to peck his jawline with a chaste kiss. Stubbled with coarse black hair, it felt odd on her lips. She was used to Loki always feeling smooth. His appearance registered; the dirt on his clothes, the wrinkles, the lines of fatigue and little sleep heavy on his face, the bloody foot prints that echoed his walk, a wild hairstyle more appropriate for a vagabond than a prince, and unfocused distorted eyes. Through it all, she still saw him, trickster, brother, lover, King of Cool and Master Magician. Loki.
Jane cracked a grin and chanced a joking reference. "I'd love you all the more if you'd just lower your damn walls." His gaze snapped down to her, hot and bright and Jane feared she stepped over an unseen line.
A hint of a smirk quirked up his lips.
One hand found her hip and the other slid round her lower back. Jane eeped when they ghosted over one of her more sensitive spots. She made to pull back, warning him of Odin coming and Thor needed help outside and none of these thoughts she finished articulating as Loki bent down and drank deeply of her taste. Cider extra cinnamon. He ran a tongue over her lips as he ended the kiss. Blood heated her cheeks.
"Loki, we don't have time," she tried to reason. He dragged his lips lower, down her neck and along the collar bone, his tongue leaving a wet trail and eliciting a gasp as he bit down on her pulse. For three days he exercised poor control; he rather wanted to extend that period by another hour.
His hands made quick work, leaving her body to draw green runes in the air and the door shuddered with a bang, sealed and soundproofed with charms doubled and tripled and five times rewritten to give even the best sorcerer a migraine to unlock. Odin or not, he should have another hour. Not nearly enough time, but it would do for now. Loki brought back his attention to the young mortal in his grasp. His hand cupped her face.
He still didn't believe it. She wanted him. She saw him, saw the monster, and she wanted him. Impossible.
His hands grew impatient at the barrier of her clothing and his mind rebelled at the restriction of time. He wanted her now; he wanted proof she wanted him and accepted him. The gentleness that marked his gestures fled under the want and need for physical relief and welcome. Jane hitched still for a breath but gave no negative response to his advances. As if understanding his distress, Jane let Loki be in command this time. Before, she dictated the when, where, and how—with not always subtle seductions and hints from Loki—but in this moment, Loki wanted control. Where everything else in his life taken and flavored with doubt he wanted the certainty of this. Trust in his life in Asgard gone, but wishful, wanting trust he presented to her.
His bed was not fit for their activity so Loki lowered her onto his couch and made quick work of her common clothing. Such quick work that he'd have to replace her shirt with one of her own before she left. A pleasing image that. A darker part of him did not want her to leave. Ever. What if she didn't come back? What if she left him after this?
His tongue teased her nerves and Jane moaned aloud, fingers fisted in his hair.
He wasn't going to lose her. He hasn't yet and he never would. Foolish to think she'd leave him. Unlike others, Jane had never abandoned him, never betrayed him. His fingers drew another moan, one he ate up in a kiss. He loved the way she tasted, and that smell of old tomes and a hint of dust. For a moment, Loki just held her close, relishing the feel of her—warm and inviting—and let his ego swell at her fingers worshiping his stomach and going lower.
This was enough. No throne. No dark thoughts haunting his footsteps. No insecurities blackening his views on his family or his home. Just this. Loki dipped his tongue in for another kiss and felt magic tingle the base of his spine at Jane's response. This mortal in his arms would always be enough and her being here proved that she, and Thor, would not abandon him. Not Odin, not the Norns and not any Aesir, Frost Giant or creature would take this from him. He swore it.
If Frost Giants were cold, Jane wanted to tell him he didn't make a particularly good Frost Giant because everywhere he touched burned and he was heat and fire as he made her skin skiing under his touch. She relished touching him as he touched her and though this evening saw Loki firmly in control, Jane found she did not mind. Loki proceeded to venerate each patch of skin with tongue and teeth and skeletal dexterity that generated a pleasant fog over Jane's mind.
Difficult as it was, Jane found the breath to say, "I love you," and regretted it by the profound disbelief widening his green eyes. Jane looked away, hurt, but then she was crushed in a sweeping hug, bare chest to bare chest with Loki and he was kissing her passionately enough to leave her breathless. He eased her back to the couch, an authentic Loki grin stretching his face.
"Allow me to return the favor."
Even after coming down from their high, Loki did not move; instead he spooned her awkwardly in between the couch and his person, and Jane felt an uncomfortable crick in her neck as circulation got cut off from her limbs.
"Loki?" she tried. No movement. "Loki, Thor can't hold the guards off forever and Odin's going to be called and come down soon." His responding growl and tightening his arms around her to Odin's name did not bode well for future events. Jane shifted, unsure of what to do. Sex, really, really good sex was one way to fix relationship problems but that wouldn't work with Odin or Thor. (Not that she wanted to, ew, gross, but also, Loki would never let her try.) Thus, she needed to get Loki back on his trickster feet. Way easier said than done, so she fell back on the one thing she could always count on: Loki's vanity. "Fine, I won't move, but you're taking a bath. You're hair's dirty and you're beginning to smell." Jane yelped as he unexpectedly picked her up and carried her to the bathroom with him.
Success. (Sort of.)
She was clean first and, wary of intruders, donned one of Loki's outfits, a pair of tunic and trousers that hung off her frame when not adhering to her wet form. Jane did most of the work, scrubbing the blood and grime off him and then filling the tub for a hot soak. His attention never drifted far from her hands and his own repeatedly combed back her damp bangs, brushing the lock of hair behind her ear and then running down in light strokes to cup her jaw. The lock of hair never stayed in place—the hair being too short and Jane craned her neck at odd angles, which made it fall down again when it did decide to stay in place—but Loki seemed at peace repeating the action. He occasionally followed particular drops of water, sometimes jealous, sometimes fascinated by how the water coated her corporeal form.
More out of trepidation and uncertainty, Jane said little beyond requesting him to move this way and that to better clean herself or him. All that bravery evaporated to leave granular remains that chipped and fell apart at the lightest touch. She didn't know what to do. Loki was in need of guidance and support and Jane wasn't sure she had what he needed. Loving Loki was natural for her but now that he required a stabilizing force—for something but Jane didn't know what; never before had Loki been anything but strong—Jane was unsure of herself. How did one fix another person when their entire world was broken, disjointed? Was love the panacea to all his troubles? Did she joke, laugh, make solemn, sage-like anecdotes about life? Just be herself? What was herself again? Stars, the night sky, asking for trips up the mountain and board games. It sounded easy but in her mind everything was suddenly thirty feet tall and she even shorter than usual. Jane was swimming in uncharted waters and she saw sharks in the shadowy undercurrent.
Knowing his hair vanity, Jane handed him the oils and liquids to wash his tangled mane, however, he did not take it so Jane went to work. Working on the tasks, shuffling those uncertain thoughts under a distant rug in the corner of her mind, steadied her hands and let her focus on Loki. Loki closed his eyes as she kneaded the shampoo into his scalp and for those minutes he looked almost at peace. She didn't know if servants or himself washed his hair—he was fastidious about his looks past the point of Light Elf narcissism—so Jane took it as a good sign when he objected not to her ministrations. If anything, he seemed to enjoy them. That alone gave her a boost of confidence and when she pecked his sudsy temple, she was rewarded with a raised eyebrow that fostered a lopsided smile.
That smile answered her troubled soul's questions and Jane expelled the ambiguities plaguing the corners of her mind. Doubts would come—they always came—but she need not doubt herself presently. Life would sort itself out and when it didn't, well, there was always hot, sweaty make-up sex followed by luxurious soaks in the bathtub.
Fenrir had crept to the door, ears droopy and slouched, huddled posture. Loki did not pay him any mind but Jane internally flinched at the fur with crusts dried blood and a limping gait. Jane beckoned him closer and he shifted to his puppy form to better squeeze through the door. His back half wagged from the happy might of his tail and Jane turned to frown at Loki. His face, in turn, alternated between surprise, hurt, anger, petulant denial and hints of remorse in rapid succession at her unspoken admonishment.
Jane dropped Fenrir in the bath tub with a splashing plop, to their sputtering stupefaction. The wolf pup came up blinking and fur askew like a northern Vanir haircut. Jane handed Loki a bottle of soap and then pointedly glanced at Fenrir.
Fenrir saw the soap and promptly began paddling away. Alas, his master had a long reach and the pup did not get far. His mistress chuckled a light giggle at his sulking face and from the corner of his eye he saw Master's lips twitch into an attempted smirk as he washed the soap into his fur. Master was washing out the soap bubbles when the door cracked open, the crackle of warring magic crunching unkindly in the air and the king and his guards came in, a bruised and bloody-nosed Thor without his hammer between a set of guards, chastened yet sullenly defiant. They found them in the bathing chambers. When Jane got up to move, Loki's hand grabbed her wrist and forced her to stay in a bruising grip, loosening it to something a little less painful when he caught her grimace.
Odin did not look pleased.
"Back to your chambers, both of you. You and Thor and I are going to have a talk," he said to Jane and his oldest son but Loki did not release her and Thor did not move.
"I wish to stay and speak with my brother at this time, Father." Thor pleaded though his voice held not the begging quality of times past. It was a request laced with noncompliance should he be denied. The knuckled grip on Gungnir went white and Jane saw Odin's jaw clench. From within the bath tub, Fenrir's muzzle warped back to reveal an unwelcoming gristbite. This was not going well.
"Da—My King," Jane broached the silence. She formally bowed as low as she could with Loki gripping her wrist. "Please let Thor and I tend to our brother. I understand that you have other matters to see to and our presence here would comfort the Queen. At least let Thor stay," she implored when Odin's face did not cool into something friendlier and his initial reply harsh. "I bullied him into compliance. It was my fault, not his. Please, Father. Please don't condemn Loki to loneliness."
Father and King read the situation. Loki looked better than he had in days—pallor skin a healthier glow, his features less defensive and a posture suggesting prone to fits of rage had mellowed; nothing significant but it was a start. Odin used Heimdall to inform him of Loki and the news the gatekeeper relayed distressed him. Often Odin left the gatekeeper's presence feeling like her imbibed copious amounts of sour milk. His son's lifeline grip on Jane's wrist did not go unnoticed. As father and King, Odin ruled.
"Very well. Loki. Release your sister, finishing washing and dress yourself. Jane, come here." She had to tease her brother's fingers free and walked over to her father with a guilty countenance. He looked as pleased to see her as the warden does a troublesome inmate. His one eye commanded Thor over as well. "Go to your brother and set him right. Jane, you will go back to your boudoir until I find an adequate punishment for your treason."
Uncaring for his state of undress Loki vaulted over the bathtub's rim and stalked over with acidic repudiations manipulating his tongue. Thor was equally unhappy with his father's decision but Gungnir pounded the floor in divine authority and the two brothers felt seiðr halt their limbs and then cruel as chains, worked their bodies into genuflection.
Loki's eyes bled red with rage, obligated silent by the king's scepter. Fenrir, who followed his master, was in a similar state of distress though his body trembled against its unseen restraints. Thor alone was left to speak. "Father, I chose to bring Jane to Loki. She deserves no punishment. We worried for our brother. This is not the time to divide our family. I beseech you to let Jane stay and we mend this rift. There is no need for punishment. We only did as what is right for family." Odin ignored his son's heartfelt reply and centered his focus on Jane.
She ducked her head in an informal bow yet remained standing, alone. Whether knowing she could not over power him or his soldiers or out of stone-heartedness to prove to his sons that they could not hope to go against him, it was nevertheless a cruel decree to leave his sons immobile and helpless as they watched Jane pay the price for aiding her family. Loki's rage rebelled against the foreign magic holding down his limbs and though his muscles constricted and contracted their protest, the king's magic held strong. Guilty and afraid, Jane observed the floor intently and did not look up as Odin relayed harsh words to her brethren even as her core railed against her father's deeds. Odin gestured for a soldier to take her away.
An einherjar soldier made to follow his king's orders and escort the mortal to her chambers. Black-green lightning jolted his arm, zinging up his armor as the metal conducted the electric sparks and he pulled back with a painful grunt. The thumb-sized ring of lightning corkscrewed around Jane and lined back to Loki's palms flat on the floor. Sweat drenched him and tension tightened his musculature. Overwhelming the seiðr temporarily allowed him to ground out one word.
"No." The seiðr snapped his jaw shut, nearly slicing the tip of his tongue and cutting off the rest of what he wanted to say, although his features thundered aloud his feelings.
Flummoxed, Odin could only stare at his son. Rage and hatred was all he expressed to the King of Asgard. The old Aesir's heart constricted. Were all his family traitors?
Or just him?
The thought, more from his heart than his head, racked him and before his progeny and soldiers, Odin fell to his knees. Thor cried out, Jane trying to catch him though too weak to bear his armored weight, and Loki's eyes faded to concerned green. Their care brought him back to life and Odin hacked out a cough, clearing his mind of nebulous, wicked thoughts with each shuddering breath. He saw people around him and the more he focused on the details the clearer his mind became.
What had he been doing?
The Einherjar were in panic, their steadfast king brought to his knees, but as the seiðr percolated from his being Thor got to his feet, steadying his father with gentle hands. He bade the guards out, an authoritative voice remnant of his father and a hitch of hesitation later, the guards bowed and left the royal family to themselves. Thor placed Odin on a couch as Loki reappeared, dressed in loose fitting silk slacks and an open green shirt of matching color to Jane's. She handed Odin a glass of water and then was pulled loosely into Loki's embrace, brotherly and intimate all at once. King of Asgard looked up to see his three children—his true born, his second son and his mortal daughter not long for this world—saw their devoted solicitude, half-buried but still there in Loki's gaze, and wondered where he erred.
He wavered to his feet, more reminiscent of an old man than any of the three could recall and gestured away their concern. "Stay," he sighed. "Stay all of you. Martial law ends soon as I can convene my advisors. So tonight stay and settle any rifts. I, I must go see your mother." He needed his own guiding star tonight and knew she would not deny him for all her choler over his bullish ways these past few days. Frigga would always set his heart right, keeping him of the narrow, precarious path that is just and good. Why hadn't he gone to see her previous to this?
At his words Loki visibly relaxed against Jane's smaller frame and Thor, big bear grin in place, clasped his two siblings in a one handed hug. Thor concentrated his eyes on Loki, and the latter, tired and defenses worn down with the gentleness of a sledge hammer, let the truth slip as he looked at Jane. The thunderer nearly started and switched his gaze towards Jane to verify. She ran her thumb over Loki's larger hand in an intimate caress and while there was affection on her face Thor could not read into it; after all, her face usually shined with love, or inquisitiveness, or intellect, or a mixture of all three. Thor plastered his inquiries to the roof of his mouth like sticky peanut butter. Another day. He would taste them in every word not spoken but now was not the right time. Today he would love his siblings and do his best to stitch Loki's beaten heart. Said trickster was nose deep in Jane's hair, half-asleep and near purring as a cat content. To Thor he looked like his juvenile self holding a large teddy bear. Meanwhile Jane was trying not to buckle under his weight, running hands through her slick hair and Loki's to get it out of her face to cyclical ineffectiveness. She grinned victoriously at Thor and the larger Aesir responded to her radiating benevolence. All would be well.
Odin nodded to himself as he saw his children and trudged out the door, straightening into his kingly comportment outside of Loki's chambers. Yes, he and Frigga had much to discuss. It would be a long night for all of Asgard's royal family, but the promise of morning advocated of good things to come if they could just get through the darkness that is the night.