Author's Note: Thank you to all who have commented so far. Happy Easter - have a great big chunky chapter.


CHAPTER XXIX

"He's awake."

Words Fury had been dreading - and hoping for - cut through the furious, raging argument that had followed Stark's observation (hypothesis; he can't prove it! It's Loki's word - and those elf-things - against all the physical evidence on Earth. And the entire island of Manhattan is pretty convincing evidence!)

As one, the Avengers turned for the door, assembling with a speed, a grace, last seen over the skies of a battered, pummeled city in the height of an invasion. Tumbling through, heading inexorably for a confrontation with a foe who'd managed - by dint of saving the world - to both simplify his status, and complicate it utterly.

Following them, Fury bit back a snarl.

The sight that greeted the group as they arrived on the platform was . . . unexpected. Strange enough to silence even the ever-witty Iron Man.

Loki, encased in the clear-walled cell, still dressed in the tattered, charred remnants of the clothes he'd nearly died in, sat nestled in a pool of deep crimson fabric. And he was laughing. Not cackling, not chuckling, no thread of megalomania woven through a miserable cawing glee. A genuine, charmed - and charming - giggle.

Staring at his brother, Thor felt a weight lift from his shoulders. Loki looked . . . delighted. The sort of naked, unguarded wonder that hadn't graced his face since before his fall.

In fact, Thor hadn't seen such joy in a lot longer than that, he noted. Not for decades. Startled, Thor realised how much he'd missed having evidence of his brother's happiness. Given the revelations that had recently come to light, Thor was determined to change that. He will be punished again by Father, certainly, but afterwards, when he has taken his rightful place as my advisor, as Mother and Father want, I will make sure he's happy. I will make sure he trains and battles with weapons until everyone knows he can hold his own in a fight. Then, they will accept him. Then, he will put aside this unmanly seidr, and be happy.

He had to be aware of them, but nonetheless, Loki ignored the arrivals completely. His attention, it seemed, was utterly focussed on a small, portable monitoring device that Thor vaguely recognised as a creation of the Man of Iron's smithery. The outraged snarl from Director Fury seemed to confirm that assessment. "Stark-"

"Whatever, Fury. He nearly died. He had to be monitored, medically. You wanted him in a cage. Setting JARVIS to observe his vitals through a proxy device was the logical compromise."

"It didn't occur to you that we could have done that ourselves using S.H.I.E.L.D. equipment?"

"Of course you could have. If you'd been willing to ignore all the data on the energy fluctuations surrounding his attempted 'heroic death' and just focussed on his physical parameters."

"Stark-"

"And don't think Bruce and I haven't noticed that you didn't bother. I gotta say, though," Stark nodded, grudging respect in his tone, "I didn't expect that."

In front of him, Loki . . . whistled. Clear, bell-like. A remarkably complex warble, for one comprised of only three tones. Fury felt his eyebrow rise. What the hell..?!

The Starktech monitor burbled back. In the same three tones. In front of him, Stark grinned, a delighted quirk of lips that looked far too similar to Loki's own features for Fury's comfort.

"Enjoying your chat, JARVIS?"

"Indeed, sir." The voice was nebulous, the source unclear. Fury thought it might, though, be coming from Stark's device. Via Stark's device. From Stark's AI!

"WHAT?!" Fury's own roar was drowned out by Agent Barton's. Loki shot them an annoyed glance, but Barton seemed too incensed to care. "He's talking to your AI?! Stark, You better -"

"Of course I'm talking to JARVIS. It appears Mr Stark programmed him in Trinary. That makes him a vastly more interesting conversationalist than most of the artificial intelligences on this planet, and certainly preferable to the bulk of the organic population."

"Oh man!" Hawkeye groaned, never taking his eyes off the cell's occupant. "Congratulations, Stark. You've made Skynet. I shall now save my breath for the running and the screaming that'll follow."

"That's . . . probably not a bad plan, actually." The mechanical genius noted. "If it comes to that. But I don't think it will."

"Nor," Said Loki, edging to his feet, "Do I." Wobbling, wavering, a sickly grey-skinned pallor coating his features, the mischief god looked like a brief breeze would knock him over. That is, until one glanced at his eyes. Burning, resolute green. Fiery madness banked under a diamond-hard layer of determination. Throat suddenly dry, Fury swallowed uselessly. Half dead, chained, and imprisoned, and this man - this creature - was infinitely, incredibly dangerous.

He was also focussed. On Thor. Well, I guess it is past time that the brothers actually talked. But damned if he was going to be out of the room for it. The last time they'd interacted, the conflict had nearly leveled a city. This time, at least, they were well off shore.

Out of the corner of his eye, Fury saw Thor draw himself up. Prepare to do battle with words, if that was what his brother needed - wanted - though that weapon was one the trickster would always wield more deftly than the thunderer. Surprisingly - or perhaps not, Fury wasn't sure quite what was up with Odin's cursed chains after the lightning storm that had surrounded Loki's near-death - Thor spoke first.

"Loki, I am glad of your survival! I am glad you live, you are well!"

"Since when did a little thing like being dead stop anyone truly determined?"

"For most, Brother, it does! But you have ever done things your own way. Now, you must cease. You have saved this world. Now is time to return to Asgard, face your punishment for your fall, and take your place beside me as I prepare to take the throne."

"No."

"Brother, you must -"

"No, Thor. Son of Odin. I will not return. I remember. More and more, I remember. And I will not go back."

Remember? Thor thought, startled. Remember what? But in front of him, Loki had obviously gathered his strength, prepared to speak. Thor could only hope, helplessly, that listening to his brother - something he'd done so poorly in the past - would work, would aid in closing this rift. Or. . . it could simply give him a chance to attack. He should not have been surprised when Loki chose to do it with words.

"It does not - and, likely will never - cease to amaze me that you, you, of all born on Asgard, are the confirmed, decreed worthy, and now celebrated heir to the throne."

"Father is just! I learned my lesson with my banishment! I will not disappoint him! Nor will I fail Asgard with my rule!"

"Well, you appear to have convinced your lord King and father of that, at least, and it seems the population of Asgard is more than content to follow suit."

"But you would doubt me?"

"Doubt you? No."

"Brother," Thor started, embracing the spreading warmth that Loki's words, phrased as a simple statement of fact; unvarnished, unlaced by any spite or bitterness (nor, his traitorous mind supplied, affection), slipped through him.

"I do not doubt. I know with utter certainty you learned nothing."

The sudden pain that knifed through him was so sharp, so startling that Thor had to look down - to glance at his chest - half-expecting to see a slim dagger rather than the coldly impersonal words of his erstwhile brother imbedded in his heart.

"You've managed to attract and hold the attention of one of the better minds on this planet. So yes, I grant you, a brief sojourn as a human changed your life, along with your resistance to electricity, albeit only temporarily." He smiled, a lopsided, crooked slash across his face, fleeting and then gone. "But tell me, did it change your actions? your self?"

"Of course! I learned much on my banishment! I will be a better king for it!"

"The tragic thing is, Odin seems to think so, too."

"You doubt me? You doubt Odin Allfather's judgement?!"

"As I said: Absolutely. 'Yes' to both, but particularly to doubting Odin's judgment. Every day for centuries I've doubted it and even more so now." In the stunned silence that followed, Loki paced, catlike, across the cell, coming to stand in front of the slack-jawed and rapidly reddening crown prince.

"Loki, your just punishment-"

"This is not about my punishment, Thor, this is about a topic you treasure. This is. All. About. You. Because I suppose we've time for one more, final, lesson. Perhaps this time you'll even listen." Fire in his eyes, fire and madness and the diamond-cut brilliance of determination; the sheer dogged persistence that had characterized so much of Loki's life, now focussed on him. Thor swallowed, unable to look away.

"Tell me, Thor, Son of King Odin and Queen Frigga, Wielder of Mjolnir, Thunderer, Crown Prince of Asgard, tell me of your actions on your second recent return to Midgard."

"I battled mightily against the Chitauri! I-"

"Before that."

"I joined a company of noble allies to -"

"Before that."

"I found you."

"Yes. As the prisoner of your 'noble allies'. In one of their small flying crafts. The crew of which you put in immediate danger when you removed me, without their permission, without even the faintest hint of an attempt at diplomacy, and after striking the first, ineffectual, blow against their 'hero', their Iron Man. Is such an act that of a king?"

"I- I had to-"

Not letting Thor finish, ignoring his stuttering defense, Loki continued inexorably.

"But, to grant you some leeway - and the humans do seem to love granting you leeway - perhaps you struck first because the Man of Iron had his arms raised, his weapons at the ready. Despite the fact that in your own culture, people are always armed, and usually at the ready, and this does not mean they are about to attack. So, with a total lack of statecraft, of even attempting to see things from another perspective, you. Struck. First. Truly, you find such behaviour worthy of a regent of Asgard?"

"Loki, I-"

"And then, of course, when the soldier, the Captain Out Of Time, Earth's Great Hero, called upon you to cease, to lay down weapons and commence diplomacy, what did you do?"

"The brave Captain is a noble shield-brother! A comrade -"

"But he wasn't, then, was he? And you're lucky he is now, because whether or not he realises it - whether or not any human on this planet realises it, and I suspect some are bright enough to figure it out - we both know that when you struck at him with your weapon, with lightning and power, with the wild raging fury of a blow from Mjolnir, we both know . . . at that point, you were trying to murder him."

Thor gaped, stunned, into the queasy silence that followed Loki's crisp, bell-like words. This?! This was Loki on the attack, with twisting words that haunted and bit, and tore savagely. This was Loki at his worst; snarling bombardments of a vicious, lacerating tongue. Ravaging assaults of truth. And it was worse, oh so very much worse, than any lie, any deception, that Loki ever fielded. Desperately, Thor tried to rally.

"You would call me task!? You?! You personally killed over eighty humans after your return to Midgard, to say nothing of the hundreds who perished in the Chitauri invasion! Of course you are labelled 'murderer', of course you are unfit to be king!"

"Tell me Thor, are humans as valuable as Asgardians?"

"What?!, er..."

"As a species? Are they?"

"I - I don't underst-"

"After all they see us as gods, or used to. That implies some sense of inferiority. But you're fawning over one of them, so let's make this question easier for you. After all, you would call me 'murderer' and 'unfit' because of it, so answer me this; does a human life matter as much as a Ljosalfar life? As a Dvergar life?"

"Of course! They are sentient, noble creatures, each pre-eminent in their own realm, not cattle!"

"'Pre-eminent in their own realm'?"

"Exactly! And you came to that realm, to Midgard, and you brought an army, and you slaughtered dozens of them!"

"Tell me, oh worthy Prince, oh exalted heir to the throne, oh noble warrior who is anything but a murderer . . . how many Jotnar - sentient, possibly noble, and certainly pre-eminent in their own realm - did you kill when you invaded Jotunheim? When you - on your own recognisance and without any mind controlling interference - started a war!?"

Livid, Tony found himself pacing forward. "And you think that makes it right, Reindeer Games? You've got to have an invasion because Big Brother Dearest got one of his own?"

"Not at all, Man of Iron. It's a point, not a plea."

"A 'point'?"

"Indeed, and an increasingly irrelevant one. There are two standards here, and Thor seems to have avoided being held to either of them, but that does not mean he should stand unreminded of that fact."

"My invasion of Jotunheim?! You are the one who tried to destroy the entire planet! Who knows - you might well have succeeded had I not destroyed the first Bifrost!"

"What is better, Thor? A long, drawn out war with a cunning, bitterly desperate enemy, or a pre-emptive strike? Pitched battle, with all the associated casualties on both sides that implies, or a single blow? Not all Asgardians are warriors, Thor, though you routinely fail to consider those you deem 'lesser' in your plans. But even those who are of the same combative persuasion as yourself would suffer losses in a fight - let alone a war - with Jotunheim. So, tell me - Prince of Asgard, soon to be Regent, he who is responsible for all his people's well-being - what is better? War, or a single blow with a weapon you only need to fire once."

A weapon you only fire once. Tony felt sick. In front of him, though, Thor was rallying.

"That would not be honourable! Attempting to destroy Jotunheim using the Bifrost like that wasn't honourable! Deceiving the Jotnar King into attacking Odin so you could kill him wasn't honourable!"

"Of course not."

"You were dishon- wait, what? You knew it was ignominious?! You did it anyway?!"

"I was king. I lacked the luxury of honour. I'd unexpectedly inherited the uneasy throne of a realm on the brink of a bitter war. I had the full support of the reining Queen - and no matter how the truth has been subsequently adjusted, Lady Frigga did support my investiture - and I had been given the role by Odin himself, whose legitimacy remains uncontested. But there was a deeply popular alternative candidate, one whose banishment wasn't even a day old. One who would cheerfully and deliberately plunge Asgard into war with Jotunheim and laugh as he did it. You say the Jotnar losses likely caused by my Bifrost attack horrify you, but the Asgardian casualties from the use of that weapon stand at zero." Silence, then. Bitter, ravaged silence. Then Loki broke it once more.

"But even before that, there was no room for 'honourable'. I had a choice. I could assassinate the Jotnar ruler, and thus buy some time by destabilising that realm, or I could assassinate you, and thus cut off any chance of your allies raising a force, turning you into a figurehead, and starting a civil war. Anything less would have set the stage for a simultaneous two front war, and while you've always been a warrior rather than a tactician, surely even you can see the advantage of avoiding that."

"But you did strike at me! You sent the Destroyer to kill me! You lied to me! You told me Father was dead and that I couldn't come home!"

"Are you even listening to me? Of course I told you you couldn't come home! Of course I did so in a manner you - for all your bull-headed selfish stubborness - might actually listen to! I needed you to stay banished and quiet, to not be a figurehead behind which agitators could rally and precipitate a civil war! And - most importantly - you were human at the time! By Odin's own enchantment, you were human! I couldn't have brought you back and ceded the throne to you even if, in the height of my madness, I'd wanted to! As a human, you wouldn't have lasted a day in Asgard! The throne would have fallen, and the subsequent ruler would have - would have had to - moved swiftly to murder the comatose Odin, and Frigga, and me! There would have been no other way to consolidate their reign."

"But you sent the Destroyer! To decimate a town!"

"Yes. I did. After your Warriors Three and Sif made it clear they were going to commit treason once more, and rally behind you. To start sowing the seeds of rebellion and civil unrest. Settling in a Midgardian town was cleverly done, by the way. Risky, but cleverly done."

"I- I don't understand."

Loki cocked his head and looked, really looked, at him. "No, you don't do you? Your sheer, bumbling good luck astounds me."

"What-?"

"You were in a civilian settlement, surrounded by living shields - or human hostages, if you prefer - when your erstwhile co-conspirators found you. That limited my options. I couldn't simply bombard the place into oblivion as I would have done had you been alone. Doing so where you were would have involved taking out yourself, the four traitors to the throne, and about three hundred humans. The collateral damage, the human loss, would have been far too high, would have sparked war on a third front. Asgard could not have survived that. So I sent the Destroyer."

Cold. Thor felt so very, very cold.

Loki made sense. By Mimir's Well, even in his madness, Loki made sense.

"But it's done, now. Fortunately, you survived, and are restored, giving Asgard an option and me a chance to check." Loki noted, smiling again. That joyous smile, laced with insanity, and yet - somehow - sparkling with freedom. With peace. "And it took me less than a day wearing Odin's geased punishment to be sure."

"Sure? Sure of what? Brother -"

"I'm not your brother, Thor," Loki snarled, anger and madness chasing the fragile happiness from his face. Internally, Thor winced at its loss. "I remember. I'm not your brother, and I should never have been put in a position to be."

"What?!"

"That is on Odin, though, not you. And not Asgard. But Odin's made his choice; he's called you 'heir'. And in this, Asgard - all of Asgard, and believe me, I checked - supports him."

"Checked? How-?"

"On that first day - and, I grant you, on some others, but particularly on that first day - you couldn't find me in the forge where I was compelled to rebuild the Bifrost, could you? Nor in the Library, nor my chambers." Loki stated, simply, as if that stark reminder of the misery, of the frustrating chase that Thor had undertaken - often daily - to find his brother, to speak his piece were simply an observation on the weather.

"I thought you were looking for aid with your task, but instead you were, you were preparing a revolt!? In chains? Under Odin's punishment?! No wonder nobody would have anything to do with you!"

"No, they wouldn't. But I gave up looking for workmates very quickly and I certainly wasn't fermenting rebellion. Not at all." Loki smiled, wistfully. "I was confirming a hypothesis."

"What hypothesis."

"Odin chose you. Asgard wants you. Who am I to stand in the way of that?"

"Brother," Thor's heart swelled at the trickster's words. His brother, his Loki, after all that, would support him! Would act as advisor, would stand beside him, would cease his insane war-mongering and take his proper place!

"And then the Bifrost was done, you see, and the last thing I needed to confirm was Mjolnir's position."

"Mjolnir? What has my hammer to do with-?"

"Mjolnir needed to be offered the choice, and so choice I gave. Mjolnir chose you. That's the last of the unfinished business. Now, Odin gets what he wants. Now, Asgard gets what it wants. Now, you get what you want." Loki grinned again, madness, and a callous hint of vindictive fury danced through it.

"You are heir to Asgard, Thor. Uncontested. For myself? I intend to sit back, relax, and watch you - and Odin - choke on it."

In the silence, Loki turned his head to the ceiling, wild insanity dancing through his fragile form. Gleeful, dark lunacy spinning through every bend of his arms.

"Heimdall! Heimdall, I call to you as Witness!" He laughed, joyous, a crackling freedom lacing his posture even as he trembled with the fatigue of standing. Faintly, almost without noticing, Thor spread his palm against the clear cell wall, wishing desperately he could reach through, reach his insane genius of a brother. What are you doing, Loki!? What can you possibly be doing!?

"I renounce my claim to the Throne of Asgard! I repudiate my rank as Prince of Asgard! I abjure any and all familial connection with the one known as Odin One-Eye, Allfather, Ruler of Asgard!"

His knees seemingly unable to hold him, Loki sank once more to ground, swathed in the red cloak so crimson it looked like blood. On the other side of the glass, perhaps unconsciously, Thor mirrored him.

What have you done, Loki?! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!


Once again, comments and constructive criticism is greatly appreciated: I'm finally getting to pull in some of the plot threads I seeded way back (in some cases, way way waaaaaaaaaay back) and I'm having a ball. Let me know what you think.