Thor headed into Loki's room to see if he was awake yet, to find that not only was he awake, he was on the balcony. Though late in the day, he wore his sleep clothes, tunic and trews hanging off him, and his feet were bare. His hair was loose and untamed on his shoulders. The image was one of complete disregard for his appearance, which warned Thor that Loki was not yet recovered.
"Loki! You have risen!" Thor bounded across to him, glad to see him alert.
The face he turned to Thor was still terribly thin with shadows smudged beneath his eyes, and Thor's enthusiasm dimmed for worry. "You should still rest," he advised. "You look…."
"As if the Celestials took their fee before sending me back?" Loki asked with a flare of his brows and dry little smile.
"I would have said tired," Thor finished. "But that, yes. Do you… remember?" Remember being dead? Was what he wanted to ask, but he couldn't finish. Loki knew what he meant.
"I..." Loki's gaze saw nothing but memory. His voice was low. "I remember everything."
Thor wished that he didn't. Watching from outside had been horrifying, and he doubted Loki's experience had been anything better. "You are free and well now. But you should go back to bed."
"Later," Loki murmured. "I like the light and the breeze. It's peaceful."
There was something in his voice that made Thor's heart ache. Loki sounded so different, as if not only had the Celestial not returned his health in full, but also not his spirit.
"Well," Thor said, a bit too loudly, trying to be cheery, "if you don't want to rest, you should dress and come below. We have been telling the tale of your great victory, and you should take your due, brother."
Loki's lips lifted, though it seemed an effort. "Cheering? Calling my name? Offering me drink?"
"All of those things! Anything you want." He slapped Loki on the back, checking the force of it at the last minute, afraid he might knock Loki clear off the balcony.
For a moment, Loki seemed tempted, but he turned back to the view. "Tomorrow. I'll come down tomorrow."
"Do you promise?" Thor asked, but couldn't stop himself from adding bitterly, "No, don't bother. You'll just break it."
Loki's head turned toward him, frowning. "What are you talking about?"
His feigning ignorance was the last straw. "You promised!" Thor grabbed both shoulders and shook him. "You promised you would not do it again, you promised you would not try alone, and you did both!"
Loki's lips parted in a breath, realizing now, then lifted in small amusement, "Oh, that."
Thor was not having any of that. "Yes, 'that'! I was there. You promised! And I watched you die! You were dead-"
"And I got better." Loki shrugged and removed himself from Thor's grip. "Norns aren't done with me yet, it seems, no matter what I try."
"But why?" Thor asked, anger faltering to a deeper hurt that Loki didn't even seem to care about what his loss had done. "Why did you do it?"
Thor's pain seemed to touch Loki, as his anger had not, and he faltered and had to take a breath. "I had no other choice. Once I knew the price for destroying Thanos, how could I not pay it? What was I supposed to do? Return to Asgard, report to everyone I could have killed him but my own life was too important? Or should I have lied that I couldn't kill him, thereby proving everyone right that I am just that selfish and cowardly?"
Thor shook his head. "No! No one would think-"
"Of course they would!" Loki snapped. "Because they always have before." He lifted his gaze and looked out toward the mountains, folding his arms as if he were cold. "I know what people think of me."
"Do you?" Thor challenged, but softly. "That's why you should come below and you'll see you are wrong. You will see the truth of their respect- nay, their admiration. You are a hero, Loki." When Loki snorted skeptically, Thor gripped his shoulder and knew he had to strengthen his appeal and get it through Loki's thick head. "Yes," he insisted. "They all know you fought Thanos and defeated him utterly. And yes," he added forcefully, to block Loki's attempted interruption, "I know you scorn that this admiration comes from battle, but Loki, it is real, nonetheless. Remember how you tried to show you were a wolf? But now you have, in truth. And it has changed. Come, see it. Live it," he implored, not letting go of him until Loki heaved a sigh.
"Fine, if you are going to be so annoying about it. Let me bathe and dress properly, and I'll go with you."
This was a terrible idea, and Loki was sorry he'd agreed the moment the door to his quarters shut behind him. He felt like glass, fragile on the outside and hollow on the inside, and responding to Thor's efforts to cheer him up seemed to take all the energy he possessed. But he felt he owed Thor, and so he went along. He sent a message to the kitchen to have food for him sent to the dining hall. Though not feeling very hungry, eating would give him something to do while he made his appearance.
He expected Thor's idea of "admiration" to be a small thing greatly exaggerated for Loki's benefit, and that he wouldn't actually find any change.
His first hint that he was wrong came when his arrival at the hall was noticed. As soon as he and Thor appeared in the archway, heads turned, and people rose to their feet.
In confusion, he started to step aside to let Thor go through first, because usually this sort of thing was for him. But his gaze met Thor's, and Thor smiled at him. "It's for you, brother. Go in."
Loki didn't believe him, expecting everyone's eyes to slide behind him as if he were invisible, but they didn't. Thor stayed back in the doorway as Loki walked to his place at the front table, plastering a smile on his lips, to act as if this were perfectly ordinary, even though it absolutely was not. His stomach knotted with apprehension, though he kept it off his face, waiting. He hoped this would stop before someone reminded them he was just Loki, not one of their warriors for lauding, and the attention turned to laughter. He readied a basilisk illlusion, to draw attention while he made his escape from the hall. Why, why had he agreed to this?
His pretense of accepting the attention as if it were normal, lasted until Volstagg shouted, "Thanos Slayer!"
The hall dissolved into shouts and thumping of cups and fists on tables and stomping of boots. Loki stood behind his chair and clasped the back of it in tight fingers, sure that this was going to turn any minute into mockery. Or this was a dream.
But it kept happening, until he had to bestir himself and smile again, raising a hand in acknowledgment, and he sat down. Everyone quieted after that, returning to normal conversation, but he was still stunned.
As his astonishment faded, it was replaced by a slow creep of warmth in his chest. They … knew. They approved. They noticed. Not just Volstagg who might do it as a favor to Thor, but even Hogarth, who had scorned Loki most of his life, had been on his feet, goblet held high.
Other people got this for doing nothing at all, and he had to do the impossible. If only he'd known that killing Thanos would have gotten everyone's attention, he should have done it centuries ago.
But he pushed the bitter thought away before it could sour everything. He had a moment of glory, he should try to enjoy it. For however long it lasted.
He seized the cup of wine and drank it, glad for something to do with his hands while he waited for food.
Thor plunked himself into the seat next to Loki. "You see? I told you."
Loki rolled his eyes and asked, "Are your proceeds from your Midgardian toys so lucrative you can pay all of these people for this performance? I am impressed, brother."
"I didn't!" Thor protested, incensed, but Loki was glad to have needled him. He sat back in his chair, sipped at his cup, and watched the gathering. He cast a simple eavesdrop spell, directed it by turning his cup, and listened to the conversation, expecting different words once everyone had settled down.
But there was nothing. A few people spoke about a song, and one person started talking about how 'the prince' was a bit unstable, frightening, and didn't eat right, and Loki was grimly satisfied to hear what he expected. Until another person responded that he'd gained great power in exchange for not eating meat, so it was a sacrifice to help defend Asgard.
With a twist of his fingers, he dismissed the spell, not wanting to hear any more. Did they know he was listening? They must, or why would they say it? No one, not even his mother, had called his eating intolerance a sacrifice, and most implied it was indicative of weakness.
Still wrapped up in what he'd overheard, he was late to notice Sigyn and Frigga approach the table, and had to scramble to his feet to greet them. He had only a vague recollection of Sigyn on Midgard, little more than an image and the echo of her voice which could be a dream, but she stood in person, no illusion, though she was in the other, natural guise of her features, not the wholly Svartalfen one.
Her hair was golden, the front coiled and braided atop her head, framing her delicate ears, while the rest of her hair hung loose to the middle of her back, and she wore a cobalt blue gown that flowed around her in thin layers, belted at the waist and a low enough neckline he had to force his eyes away.
She smiled, perhaps catching where his gaze had strayed, and bowed her head. "It is good to see you well enough to rise and come to dinner," she told him warmly.
"Thank you. You, too," he said, then realized that made no sense, and had to clear his throat, "I mean, it's good to see you."
Her smile widened, catching the graceless correction. But when he said nothing more, she said, "I shall not bother you at table..."
Her name sprang from his lips. "Sigyn?" She turned back, and he had to say, "I thought you were dead. That Thanos had killed you. I am glad to know that was not true and to see you here."
"Though this is not the face you first met?" she asked, bright eyes meeting his.
He shook his head once, frowning in confusion, and he told her in reassurance, "I think I am the last person who should complain about that, my lady. You should wear whatever guise you wish."
"Well, I shall complain about not seeing the guise I first met," she responded, lightly, as if jesting with him, but her eyes still held his. "And I hope to see it again soon." When he examined her face for the lie or the mockery, she gave a respectful nod of her head. "I hope to have another chance to speak together, in quieter surroundings," she wished him. "Until then, I see your meal has come so I should excuse myself. Your Grace," she said to Frigga and headed down the table to her seat.
Loki stared after her as two of the attendants laid out his food from the tray.
Sigyn was here, and she remembered what he'd looked like on Svartalfheim. He rubbed at his neck, reminded of the bite of the power-dampening collar and that strange feeling of the frostfire sliding across his skin. His other skin. But she wanted to see it again.
Frigga touched his hand and drew his attention. "Loki? Are you going to taste it? It looks as if Hilde made you some treats."
He looked down to find several of his favorites, including mushroom soup which he smiled to see, knowing that was Hilde's way of welcoming him home. He ate with some appetite, though his mind kept turning over what Sigyn had said. Did she mean it? She would not taunt him, but still- to want to see it? That reminded him of how Tony also had been curious, but accepting of the 'smurf'.
Fingers tapping on the table before him drew his attention, and he found Volstagg before him. "Volstagg," Loki greeted with a nod. "I hope you fare well this evening."
Volstagg ignored the polite attempt to excuse him and declared. "I wished to make amends."
Loki frowned, feeling too weary to parse what exactly Volstagg was talking about. "For what? For calling me Thanos Slayer?"
"For that? No, never, for that is what you are, is it not? And a proud name it shall be, I think. But before, during the reconciliation ceremony, I spoke words that I meant well, but in ignorance, and so they came to your ears as insult," Volstagg answered. "I would apologize for the offense I gave and the upset I caused you."
Loki remembered what Volstagg said, "Blood will tell, in the end." And he let a flicker of a bitter smile escape. "Well, you may yet be right, Volstagg."
"No," Volstagg disagreed with enough emphasis, Loki jerked back in his chair. "No, I was not. It is not blood that tells. Do I not love my wife's niece that we are raising as much as my own daughters? I do, though she is no blood of mine. So I was wrong then, and what I will say to you now, instead: You are a son of Asgard, and that is what tells."
The very careful wording of that – not saying Odin – told Loki that Volstagg knew something of the truth, and if Sif had found out, surely Volstagg had, too. His eyes met Volstagg, who nodded once. "A prince of Asgard," Volstagg said, and seemed to mean it. "Son of Odin Allfather and Frigga. Thanos Slayer." He held up his drinking horn in salute. "With the blood of honored warriors in his veins."
Loki's fingers fumbled for his cup, hardly able to believe Volstagg would say such a thing, knowing the truth. "Honored warriors?" he repeated hoarsely.
"I think it is for the queen to tell you the tale, as it is mostly hers. But yes, a warrior son of warriors." He drank and Loki had to echo the gesture, as Volstagg smiled at him, ruddy beard all aquiver with humor. "You missed much, lazing about in Svartalfheim while the rest of us battled."
"Apparently," Loki said, his voice a ghost.
Volstagg, seeing how his humor had fallen flat with Loki, said deliberately, "When you are well, it would be my honor to face Thanos Slayer in the practice field. I hope it is soon, my prince." Then he nodded to Frigga. "My queen."
Loki didn't watch him go, thinking that this was all impossible. Now Volstagg was requesting a practice duel? When had that happened before?
He cast his mind back, and could not think of one.
It hit him then that this was all too perfect. This wasn't Asgard; it couldn't be. Not like this.
Loki put down his spoon and the cover back on his dish, something that did not go unnoticed. Frigga leaned nearer to him. "Loki, you must eat." When she caught a closer look at his face, her own brow creased in concern. "Sweetling, do you feel well? You look pale and tense."
He made a smile for the benefit of the watchers, but felt no impulse to amusement. "Oh come, Mother, surely it is as obvious to you as it is to me? I realized what this is. I know where I am."
She frowned at him, not understanding, and he wanted to laugh at how good the impression was. For a moment, he was tempted to let it, to let this farce continue, but he was too tired to not speak.
"All of this," he nodded his chin out to the feast hall, "is the Celestial. A little dream world they made so I would stop resisting. It is Valhalla basically, where I get everything I ever wanted: you at my side, Sigyn alive, acclaim and notice, friends…. It's not real. And now I've identified it, it will end. I await the inevitable crumbling as they figure out I'm not fooled and try to force me to join them again. Perhaps Thanos on the throne and everyone dies, one by one, until I am left alone and beg them to take me."
Frigga listened to this recitation with a growing sadness in her eyes. When Thor made a noise as if to protest on Loki's other side, she quieted him with a gesture. "Loki," she murmured, and laid her hand over his. "No. This is Asgard, all of this is true. It is not a dream, I promise." He shook his head in denial, and she insisted, "You know how to anchor yourself," she reminded him. "You know how to reach for Yggdrasil, and feel the roots of Asgard. Do so, and you will know. No dreamscape could feign that."
He shut his eyes, and though he was still weak, her seidr embraced him, a stronger rope twining around his pale thin green thread, and they sank deep within Asgard to touch the fire of its heart, a glowing core like a star. Its heat and light warmed him, reached into his spirit to knit some of the shredded, weakened cloth back together.
He opened his eyes, to meet Frigga's, watching him anxiously as he pushed himself upright after sagging limply in the chair. "Is it real?" he whispered. "Truly?"
Her fingers were gentle on his face. "It is, little one. You see how much is changed? It will change still more."
His mind went blank, unable to comprehend that this was happening. This wasn't some dream or nightmare that would give him everything he wanted and then wrench it away in horror. The hall wasn't going to burst into mocking laughter at the little frost midget, Thor's inconvenient shadow, daring to think he might find a place here after all.
"I- I can't." Chest heaving, he shoved back his chair. "I have to go, excuse me, I need air," he blurted, probably incomprehensibly, and managed to keep himself to a walk as he hurried out. Once the door shut, he sprang into a run as if monsters were after him, but there were no monsters there. The monster was inside him. But maybe it wasn't, and that was almost as terrifying. He sprinted blindly through the hall, trying to outrun the squeeze in his chest.
He ended in the queen's garden and threw himself into the grass beneath the tree she'd planted. Wanting to cry or scream, or something, he choked and gasped for breath. His hands tangled and yanked at the long strands, and fingers clawed into the dirt, until he collapsed on his front, panting and exhausted. The earthy, rich smell filled his nose, reminding him of where he was, that it was real. His furious breaths began to ease.
Flipping over, he stared at the branches that arched above him gracefully and the green leaves that seemed to glow with the sunlight above them.
To focus his mind, he counted the leaves, and found some solace in the quiet.
.. tbc..