Chapter 20: Ache

It had been just over three years since the attack on New York. The death total was well over three thousand people and it had cost millions of dollars to rebuild the damaged structures of the city. Tony Stark helped build a tower of memoriam with his technology and it lit up each night. Families still held candelit vigils regularly. Despite the death, destruction, and pain…the country was brought together by the chaos. Peaceful organizations were founded. The Avengers Initiative was cemented and the six heros became celebrities—though Thor remained on Asgard.

The guilt had taken months to begin fading. Within two years, I had forgiven myself and boxed away the self loathing in order to push it aside in my mind.

Loki, however, did not get any forgiveness from me.

He was gone for good back on Asgard. While our friendship was valued and I used to think that we would become something more than friends, once he attacked my home planet…I saw him differently. In my mind Loki became two entirely different people: the kind man that shared my thirst for knowledge, and then there was the man that caused the death of thousands.

I tried to hang onto the memories of the 'good Loki'. It almost felt like he was killed in the New York incident. Anyways, I also tried not to dwell on the matter. It wasn't worth the emotional suffering. I shed not a single tear for Loki since I was returned home from S.H.I.E.L.D.'s grasp. It was done and over with and I had moved onwards from my pain.

I was now twenty-four years old and a highly valued lab worker at the hospital. I dated here and there but never found anyone that really seemed to understand me. The longest relationship I had lasted three months. I had resolved myself to focusing on my career once more. Relationships would come and go and since I still didn't want any children, there was no need to rush through life desperately searching for a husband before my biological clock ticked by.

Pittsburgh was still the city that I inhabited but I eventually saved up enough to by myself a good sized home. I made fifty grand a year and since I didn't have many expenses, a home was a good investment.

I still didn't have that greenhouse I've always dreamt of, yet.

But my life was good. It had headed in a positive, upward motion. I had a nice—but not too flashy car, a home, a job that I looked forward to each morning, and nothing to hold me back.

Then why did I continue to feel like something was missing?

XXX

Three years of imprisonment.

Three boring years of solitude.

And I had the rest of my immortal life to spend behind bars. Well…figuratively, since there were no actual bars to contain me. Asgard's dungeon was made up of holding cells that looked like simple, white rooms. There was a bed, a closed off bathroom with a shower included, and a transparent barrier to keep each prisoner inside. Compared to the prisoner's quarters on other realms, I suppose I was rather lucky to be held in Asgard's dungeon.

Mother had the guards give me her books to read. My magic still functioned properly, but it only stayed inside of my cell. Even my skill wasn't able to penetrate the force field keeping me from escape.

My only visitors were Thor, Mother, and Odin on occasion. I predicted that these visits would grow to be fewer and less frequent as time wore on.

Speaking of Odin, after my imprisonment he made a formal announcement to the realm. He apologized for my behavior and explained my Frost Giant origins just moments after telling me everything himself. The memory of it made me feel a cold rage just to think of it.

"Hello, son."

The words made my anger simmer. I was not his son. He was not my father.

"Odin," I sneered back, looking up from my book as I sat in an armchair. Despite my punishment, my cell was actually quite furnished. I suspected that that was mostly at Mother's request.

"Do you think your mother and I haven't noticed how you still call her 'Mother' while you refer to Thor and I by our first names? We all have. Why is that?" he murmured.

I laughed without humor, "Because you were no father to me. Thor was hardly a proper sibling. Mother was the only one to treat me with due respect. In turn, she gets my respect."

The Allfather was silent.

I closed my book quickly, shutting it with a sharp slamming noise that radiated through my cell. Setting it down more gently onto the side table, I slowly got up out of my chair and rose to face the man that called himself my father. As I strolled leisurely up to the transparent barrier that separated us from each other, I realized just how much taller than him I was. My height was a good to five inches above his at least.

"I am sorry that I did not know how to father you, Loki. I only knew how to raise sons the way that my father had raised me. I should have tried harder to understand your intellectual gifts, rather than over nurturing Thor's physical gifts and leaving you to wither. It was never my intention to make you feel like an outcast," he said slowly.

"Why?" I scoffed. "Because I am one? I am an outcast! Why did you take me in? What happened to me as an infant? Why don't I look like the others of my kind?!"

Odin turned away from me, sighing, and rubbed his temples wearily. "It shouldn't make a difference. You are a part of our family—no matter how dysfunctional it is. You are Frigga's son and you are mine."

"TELL ME!" I roared outwards and thrusting my clenched fists against the barrier. My voice was strained and seemed loud enough to shake the entirety of the dungeons. I inhaled sharply, breathing ragged.

"Very well, then. It was the day I battled my forces against Laufey's—the same day I lost my right eye. It was also the day that I seized The Casket of Ancient Winters," he started.

"But that wasn't the only thing you took from Jotunheim…was it?"

"No. It was not," Odin answered. He spun around to face me, lifted his chin higher, and looked me in the eyes as he elaborated. "After the battle began to fade, I followed a fleeing Jotun into the temple. I took down the Frost Giant and as the snow began to settle around me, I heard the cry of an infant. I discovered a newborn—quite small for a Giant's offspring, cast out and left to die. The child, already gifted with magic at just a few days old, transformed himself to match his surroundings the instant I held him. When my skin touched his, it turned from blue to pale pink. It was almost as if you wanted my approval from the start, so you changed yourself to look like an Asgardian," he smiled, remembering. I frowned deeply. So my outward features were just a manifestation of my desperate hope that Odin would see me as his son?

Odin inhaled deeply, thinking carefully, and answered my other question. "I suspect that you're shorter than the average Jotun due to some genetic defect. Yet, you have grown to be the tallest on all of Asgard. As for your skin, that is all your work. You're subconsciously using your magic to appear as an Asgardian. After so many centuries of hiding your Jotun appearance, I suppose that this is now your default form. You're Frost Giant traits are only visible when your anger makes your guise falter temporarily—or when you should wish to appear as a Jotun. But that doesn't matter to me. You were always my son from the moment I held you. You were so small, smaller than Thor when he was born."

"Who is my biological father?" I asked. "Do you know?"

"Your birth father has been dead for a few years now. You killed him, actually. You were Laufey's son."

"Laufey's son? Laufeyson…not Odinson," I whispered lowly to myself. All these years, I was really Loki Laufeyson of Jotunheim. Odin was right, I suppose, when he would say that both Thor and I were born to rule. Born to be kings. I was still a godly prince—just not of Asgardian bloodline.

My voice faltered as I gave him an incredulous stare. "What purpose do I serve to you? Am I just another stolen relic? Why did you take me? Why didn't you tell me! From the start, you should have told me what I was! That I—I am the monster that our people warn their children about at night? Was it because you were secretly ashamed of me?!"

"You were abandoned, Loki. I took you in as my son. Frigga and I love you as such."

"No! There has to be some other reason. What is it?" I ordered accusingly.

The Allfather paused, "I thought you would bring stability to our realms. You would perhaps unite Asgard and Jotunheim and bring about a permanent peace. You still could."

"Stop! Just go!" I shouted.

"Loki…"

"GO!" I roared, my anger boiled forth like magma spilling out of rock. My body shook and I felt my illusion falter. The color change come over me slowly, creeping across my skin like morning fog rolling through a valley. Blue pigmentation was apparent all across my body within seconds. I blinked back the emotion from my eyes—which were now crimson, no doubt. "Leave me!"

That was three years ago.

After that dreadful argument, Odin announced my origin to the entire realm—though he kept my parentage a secret between the two of us. All of Asgard now knew that I was a Frost Giant. Some demanded my death while others pleaded that I be deported back to Jotunheim. The Allfather refused. Despite all that had come to pass, he still defended me to some extent.

I suppose that was the only kindness he could continue to show me without appearing completely weak to his people. His display of mercy then started rumors and, within weeks, the kingdom believed him and Frigga to be saints. Poor King Odin…taking in the wicked spawn of an 'unknown' Frost Giant.

It made me sick.

I was an anomaly. A beast. A monster.

Those words were whispered throughout the realm, no doubt. It made me glad that Laurel was on Midgard and I was trapped here in the dungeons of Asgard. At least she was safe from me this way.

But as the weeks of my captivity passed and turned into months—then years, an ache continued to grow within me. If one were to ask me what the feeling was, exactly, I would be unable to provide clear answer. For I was unable to place the emotion itself. I was clueless.

It cut into my chest like the cold blade of a knife. It was sinking deep into my flesh with each passing moment.

I did not know what the ache was…but it hurt.

AN-Poor Loki and Laurel :(