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Loki's feet hit the intricate metal flooring of the building that housed the Bifrost bridge.
"Welcome back, my prince," Heimdall said in his deep, rumbling voice. Loki couldn't tell if it was sarcasm or not.
"Nice to see you as well, good Heimdall," he muttered suspiciously. Loki started walking for the entrance, shoes tapping, the sound reverberating against the circular dome walls. Oh, how he had missed that sound.
"King Odin awaits you in the great hall," Heimdall said. His calm, serene tone had always somewhat disturbed Loki. There was little emotion behind it. Loki wondered if he would ever get to the point of not caring anymore. Would his voice be the same as the gatekeeper's?
The Bifrost bridge was enormously long. Loki wished he had a horse or something to shorten the journey. Then he realized just how much he was dreading this confrontation with his father and was suddenly glad of the long walk awaiting him.
The newly rebuilt bridge glimmered beneath his feet with various shades of red, orange, green, blue, violet... The colors were endless. It was difficult for him to even describe the vast array of coloration. The light was constantly shifting, giving way to a color that he had never encountered before. He kept his eyes on the path ahead of him, looking at anything but the approaching city of Asgard.
The waves crashed beneath the bridge, lapping up against the metal supporting beams. The water of this sea seemed to change colors as often as the bridge itself. One minute, it was an inky purple. The next, it was a rich navy. When it changed to a stormy gray, he had to break his eyes away. That particular color held far too many reminders.
Eventually, the end of the bridge came into clear view. Instinctually, he clenched his fists in worry, digging his nails into the skin of his palms. Currently, two guards from the royal army stood watch on either side, both standing ruler-straight. Loki passed through the golden gate. Neither of the stiff soldiers acknowledged his presence.
As he traveled through the winding streets up to the palace, passerby stopped and stared with awe. Even young Iduna paused in her apple picking to take a gander at him, something she had never done before. Apparently, the citizens were in shock that the youngest prince of Asgard dared to show his face here once more. Many a vehement glare was directed his way. Loki didn't care; he wasn't quite fond of the people either. He kept his head straight, refusing to back away from the condescending stares. His eyes narrowed, but he otherwise pressed forth.
At last, he reached the palace. Without a word, he pushed through the double doors that led into the house of Odin.
Two other guards in their golden helmets waited to escort him to the king. Politely, they each nodded their heads in a greeting. Loki couldn't help but feel that they were courteous to him because Odin had instructed them to be.
The two guards led him into the majestic throne room. It was exactly as it had been the last time he had been there- roughly twelve hours ago. The only thing that had changed was that the black banners had been replaced by green and red, and another figure accompanied his father by the throne.
Upon seeing her youngest son, Frigga squeaked with relief and dashed to him, engulfing Loki in an enormous hug. Warm tears of relief ran down her already water-streaked cheeks and soaked into his shoulder. Loki patted his mother on the back absently, but kept his eyes trained on the figure still sitting on the throne.
"Frigga," the calm, gentle voice commanded. "Let the boy breathe."
The queen reluctantly withdrew, caressing his cheek in a motherly way before backing off. Loki gave her a reassuring half smile, and she retreated to stand beside one of the gleaming pillars. Then he took a deep breath and approached the gilded throne. He knelt down out of respect and put one clenched fist to his heart as was required by anyone who spoke directly to the king.
"Father," he began, "I have done as you have asked. Midgard is safe."
"For the moment, at least. The mortals never can stay out of trouble for long," Odin murmured, considering his youngest son. "Nevertheless, Loki, I am proud of you. You have done a tremendous service for both Midgard and Asgard. I thank you."
Loki nodded slightly, but otherwise kept his head bowed, looking at the ground. His ears were ringing.
Odin sighed deeply; still staring at the man knelt before him. "Unfortunately, my duty as a father and my duty as a king often cross. I cannot allow you to return to Asgard permanently." There was a trace of regret in his father's voice, lingering even throughout the abrupt departure of those few short words. Loki felt faint. After all he had done to redeem himself, it still wasn't good enough? He supposed that was fair enough.
"Odin-" Frigga stepped forth then, hands held in front of her. The All-Father held up one finger to silence her. Being the obedient wife she was, the queen fell silent, though her lips were pursed firmly together, clearly saying, 'I do not agree with this.'Her warm brown eyes gleamed angrily.
"Allow me to finish," Odin said. "Loki, you must understand that even the noblest actions will not excuse the most horrific of deeds. You cannot escape punishment."
"I... I understand, Father," Loki mumbled. His heart felt heavy; it was difficult to breathe.
"I have had a while to think about this, and I have decided on what your punishment will be," Odin announced, standing from the throne and holding his spear aloft.
Loki cringed, awaiting the final blow. He should have known that this was all too good to be true; he should have known returning to Asgard would mean immediate execution. How could he have been so stupid?Though perhaps he deserved to die... His mournful thinking drowned out what his father had begun to say.
"... Two mortal years," Odin concluded, bringing the end of Gungnir down on the marble step. The loud clunk snapped Loki back to reality.
"Wait, what?" he asked, totally confused. "I did not catch that, Father. Forgive me."
"Were you not listening? I have decided that your punishment will be to live amongst the mortals for two years. In that time, you must fix what you have destroyed. You must do some good for the humans."
Loki couldn't believe his ears. He blinked several times as he let it all set in. He wasn't going to die. He wasn't going to die.Not today, at least. His body spread with an overwhelming sense of relief.
"You may not have contact with Asgard until the allotted time has passed, with the exception of your brother, if he so chooses to remain in Midgard with you. Do you understand the terms of your banishment? "
Loki nodded blankly. "I- I figured… Execution…" he muttered, voice trailing off.
Odin considered the boy before him for a brief moment. "Loki, I could never kill you. You are my son; a true son of Odin."
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The air had turned bitter as I made my wobbly descent towards the coffee shop, trying to balance on my broken sandals. Maybe it was just my own imagination, but the temperature had seemingly dropped ten degrees since the last time I had been outside. I shivered and pulled my seared cape tighter around my shoulders.
The door to the dingy shop was wide open: a beckon for me to come right in. I didn't take it as a good sign.
The smell of freshly brewed tea hit my nose as I stepped inside. The inviting aroma wafted around me, warming me to the bone. It reminded me of simpler times, times spent with my mortal family. I hadn't had contact with them in years. Come to think of it, ever since I graduated High School, I hadn't had much contact with anybody.
The shop was empty. My brow scrunched in confusion. I was at the right place, right? If I had gotten the location wrong... Well, it would give her yet another item to add to her list of things wrong with me.
"Andromeda: America's Mystery Woman," a stern voice rang out from behind me. I jumped and whirled around.
Sitting cross legged on the back counter was my mother. A newspaper had been spread out in front of her, covering her lap. Next to her sat a short stack of more newspapers.
"'While no official reports of the Manhattan battle have been released as of publication, many eyewitness accounts tell of a strange, new person fluttering around the skies of New York in recent weeks. According to one source, this is a new member of our cherished team of superheroes: The Avengers. Another source states that she is an enemy, working on the side of evil. Who is this unknown being? Is she friend, or is she a new enemy? Turn to page A16 for more details.'" Athena read aloud. I blinked. "And this isn't the only paper you have made headlines in."
She pulled another paper off of the pile and held it up. Under the title 'A New Hero' was a large black and white photo showing a person hovering in the skies, a cape wrapped around her shoulders. Smudges from the camera lens show that it had been raining the day the picture had been snapped.
It was me, taken the day of the evacuation. My skin crawled as I recalled the acid rain pouring down around us.
"Andromeda is a fitting name for a Greek princess," Athena remarked, studying me closely. I felt self-conscious of my appearance all of a sudden. I tugged on my frayed and stained dress. "She was always a favorite of mine, though I'll admit that Ariadne held the top spot."
"Of course," I mumbled, quiet enough that I figured she wouldn't hear. "Second place, as always."
Athena gave no indication whether she had heard me or not, but she sighed and slid off of the counter, setting her paper aside. Her stormy grey chiton swirled down to her feet, creating pools of fabric and accenting her eyes. A thin, golden band encircled her curly blonde hair. Her face was timeless- wise, beautiful, and eternally strict. I didn't think I had ever seen her truly smile.
She glided over to one of the sticky booths, the same booth that we had last sat together at. "Sit, child," she instructed. I obeyed, feet shuffling forward miserably. I wasn't in the mood for a lecture today, especially considering everything I had been through in the last forty-eight hours.
"May I offer you a cup of coffee? Tea? Perhaps hot chocolate?" she asked. With each wave of her long fingered hand, a cup of each drink appeared before me.
"No, thank you," I whispered.
"Andelyn, you haven't eaten in at least two days. You must be hungry. Maybe a muffin? A scone?" she offered, waving her hand. A plate of various pastries appeared before me. I stared at them dubiously.
"Eat," she instructed, lifting her own tea cup to her lips. Obediently, I grabbed a chocolate muffin and took a bite. I couldn't even taste it. I chewed a few times and swallowed. It had the texture of plastic. I figured that's what you get when you eat at a New York Starbucks. I shuddered, but took another bite. I hadn't realized just how hungry I was.
"Mother," I started to say as I swallowed again. She held up a slender finger, a signal for me to shut up. I lowered my muffin back down to the plate.
"I will talk," she said. "You will finish that muffin before I shove it down your throat." Her eyes glinted dangerously, and I had no doubts that she actually would force feed me, so I continued eating the rubbery muffin. What was this thing made of, exactly? Cement?It stuck to the sides of my throat, and it was all I could do not to gag it back up.
"I feel as if I owe you an apology," my mother sighed. I tried to open my mouth in shock, but the muffin had seemingly glued my teeth together. Athena? Apologizing to me? That was new. She eyed me briefly before launching into her speech.
"I haven't been quite fair to you ever since you failed your mission when you were fifteen. You were too young. I never should have granted permission for you to partake on such a dangerous quest. But you were so eager to please me that I had to give you your chance.
"And then the 'incident' occurred. I was shocked and upset that someone would have dared to do that to my daughter… I became angry; resentful, even. I should not have taken that anger out on you. After all, you had done nothing wrong.
"Naturally, I refused to grant you anymore quests. I demanded that you stay within camp's borders at all times during the summer months. I believe that is the time you began to despise me. You became bitter and withdrawn from the mythological world, insisting that I didn't love you, when all I wanted was to protect you."
I couldn't believe what she was telling me. It was too good to be true. This had to be a scam, I was certain. Then Athena reached across the table and took my hand in her own.
"It was wrong of me to let this go on for so long," she whispered. "We should have had this conversation a long time ago, long before you detached yourself from Olympus."
I cleared my throat, hoping that somehow it would also clear my head. I wrenched my teeth apart to open my mouth, but I couldn't find the right words to say, so I closed it again.
"I have lived for thousands upon thousands of years, and never before have I had such a sensitive child," she shook her head. "Most of my children strive to please me, but not as much as you. What makes you different?"
I wanted to answer, but it clearly was a rhetorical question. I bit my lip and shrugged.
"You are oddly silent," she observed, tilting her head slightly. Her golden curls tumbled down her shoulder. "Speak. Surely, you must have questions."
I thought for a moment. The only question I really wanted to ask bubbled to my lips, and before I could stop it, it came forth.
"I just want to know why you gave me up as a baby. That's all." I withdrew my hand from hers and slid my gaze to the sticky table. A little crumb of chocolate muffin was stuck to the surface. I studied that piece intently, anticipating and somewhat dreading what she was about to tell me.
"I had no choice," she murmured sadly. "Zeus doesn't allow demigods on Olympus, except in very special cases. Your mortal father wanted nothing to do with you. I had to put you up for adoption."
I closed my eyes, picturing the night I found out the truth of my birth. Subconsciously, I shivered as I remembered the icy winter winds piercing my skin as I ran down the street, away from home, away from everything.
"I guess that makes sense," I muttered. "Why didn't my dad want me?"
"It was an inconvenient time for him. He didn't like children. He told me that many times when we were romantically involved. I should have listened," she whispered. "I am so sorry."
Tears pricked my eyes. Did she really just tell me that she was sorry I was born? I went over her words in my mind again. Yeah, she'd just told me that she was sorry I was born. It stung, but I really couldn't blame her. I absently wondered how many kids of hers had died painful hero deaths. I imagined that would put a damper on being a mother.
"You took it the wrong way," she observed, studying my face. "I did not mean it like that."
"It's fine," I shrugged again. But really, it wasn't fine.
There was a brief moment of silence while she kept staring at me, and I kept fighting back the tears that threatened to spill over.
"Andelyn," she finally said. I looked up. "Those shoes you are wearing, may I see them?"
Confused, I nodded slowly and bent down to un-strap Thor's sandals. The war had been rough on them. Leather was starting to peel off, scorch marks lacing up the sides. The wings on my left sandal had been entirely torn off, eaten away by stupid Dr. Doom and his stupid spiders. I passed them across to her.
"Incredible," she said, examining the pair one shoe at a time. "These are almost as intricate as the original pair I crafted for Hermes when he was but a child. Obviously, the design is lacking, but I wonder..." Her voice trailed off as she ran her fingers over the cracked sole of the right shoe.
"Yes?" I prompted. My feet were freezing against the icy Starbucks tile, and I was pretty sure that I just put my foot in a puddle of dried coffee. Gross.
"Do you mind?" she asked, setting the pair on the table and raising her hands to perform a spell.
"Um-" I started to protest, but she didn't wait for me to finish. A brilliant, silver glow enveloped the room, its focus being the pair of sandals themselves. I shielded my eyes against the blinding light, leaning back in my seat and averting my face. Athena stared on calmly, the bright rays hardly affecting her immortal eyes.
When the light died done enough that it was safe to look, I saw my sandals sitting in the same place, but... They weren't my sandals.
The design of them had completely changed. Instead of being dull brown, worn, and thread bare, they were twenty times better. The broken wings had been upgraded to sleek, gold trimmed ones. The sandal itself was brand new, and instead of the old brown color, it was a bright mahogany/gold hue. The edges of the straps were pure gold.
They were spectacular.
"Thanks... Mom," I added as an afterthought. Athena seemed pleased.
"I've waited a long time to hear you call me that again." She smiled a real smile then, not a fake smirk as usual. The corners of her eyes lifted up to match her upturned lips.
I met her grin with my own and reached across the table to pick my new and improved sandals up. I bent down and tied them back on. Before they had been slightly loose, but they fit me perfectly now. They were already molded to fit my feet exactly.
Athena's face dropped the smile as I straightened up. My face fell as well, mirroring her own.
"I realize that I never took the chance to talk to you about that night five years ago. The night when your mission failed," she explained. "Do you want to talk about it now?"
"No," I shook my head wildly, cringing at the mere memory. "I don't. I never will, either."
"I understand," she sighed. "Perhaps if things were different between us..."
"Even then, no. I don't like talking about it," I muttered.
"I won't bring it up again," she vowed. Then she glanced out the windows. The afternoon sky had turned dusky. "I think you should be getting home before your friends begin to worry."
I nodded, still wincing at the now fresh memory of that night. "You're right. I should go." I was reluctant to stand up. When would I ever get this chance to talk to my mother civilly again?
It was like she read my mind. "Ande, I promise that it will never be this bad between us ever again. We will talk again, I swear."
"Alright." I half smiled at her. "Goodbye, Mother." I stood up to leave.
"One last thing," she called out as I was halfway out the door. I turned back. She was now standing as well. "I give you permission to date that Loki boy," she growled. "I do not approve, but perhaps he will be good for you. You have my blessing." My face heated up as she brought up yet another memory- the memory of the kiss from earlier today. I opened my mouth to say something, but she was gone.
"Thanks," I whispered, knowing that she'd hear me.
I was about to leap in the air to leave, but a weird clicking noise halted me in my tracks. I spun around, searching for the noise.
Snap. Whirr. Scrape.
There it was again. I debating about closing in on it, but then I realized that I honestly didn't care. I was loopy from lack of sleep, anyways. It was probably just my imagination. Or maybe that muffin was affecting my brain.
At least, that's what I convinced myself of.
Shrugging it off and with a much lighter heart, I jumped in the air and headed back to the helicarrier; headed back home.
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Author's Note:Guys, I am so sorry for the wait for this chapter. I can't apologize enough. I was hit with writer's block, on top of having zero time to write. The wait for the next chapter won't be nearly as long, I promise. In fact, I've had it written before I ever even starting writing Grounded.
Yes, this is the last chapter. Stay tuned for the epilogue, however! It should be posted sometime next week.
Oh, and in case you haven't noticed, I changed my penname. The old one wasn't doing it for me. Sorry about the confusion.
I hope you liked it. Once again, I apologize for the delay in updating. Please review!
-SketchbookPianist