Scene 46
"Guards!"
The two men take Odin away, but Loki can't bring himself to follow. Jotun. I'm Jotun, not Asgardian. He realises it must have been Frigga who disguised him, changed him, turned him into something suitable to Odin's plan. "I'm a monster," he whispers, staring at his hands as if he expects them to turn blue. And then, in one horrible, brutal moment, he realises that he has nothing. No family, no place, no purpose. His mind is racing, but at the same time he feels completely blank. Hollow. Empty.
There is only one person he can think of right now. He has no idea what to tell him, but he needs to find Breka. Loki feels so lost and vulnerable, so hungry for a kind word, and Breka will be ready to provide that. Dear beloved Breka. He's always ready to provide what Loki needs, always willing to make him feel better. Yes. Find Breka and try to forget about everything. Flee into Breka's strong arms and to his gentle mouth, and maybe, just maybe, if Loki is brave enough to tell the truth, Breka can find it in his heart to love a monster.
Scene 47
Loki finds his lover in his quarters. Modest as they are, they are a safe place, warm and peaceful, more so than his own, more luxurious ones, and Breka doesn't fail him. He takes one look at the prince and pulls him into his arms. Loki tries to suppress the little moan of pain that escapes him but of course Breka noticed. He pulls back and looks at Loki's face.
"What's wrong?"
Where do I start? Loki thinks but decides to go for the most obvious answer.
"I was injured and didn't have time to heal myself yet," he says, carefully shrugging out of his leathers and shirt. He sits down on Breka's bed to examine his shoulder.
"What happened?"
Breka comes closer and looks at the injury. Loki is too busy focusing his energy to notice the expression on Breka's face. Only when Breka grabs Loki's good shoulder does he look up.
"Hey! What—"
Breka is so pale that Loki drops what he's doing and focuses on Breka instead.
"Breka? What is it?"
"What. Happened?" Breka forces out, barely able to get his voice to work, eyes glued to the nasty slash in Loki's shoulder.
"Like I said, I was injured."
"Who did this? What did this?"
Loki squints his eyes.
"Why are you so upset?"
Breka brushes his fingertips along the injury.
"Because I've seen this before," he whispers, eyes wide. He's terrified. Loki feels an echo of that chill again. He tries to sound casual.
"Have you?"
Breka stares at him, and for a moment it looks as if he's about to shake sense into Loki. And then his eyes fill with tears.
"Breka, please, you're scaring me to death! What is it?"
"How can you possibly have been injured by—"
Breka looks at Loki, pleading, blinking against the tears.
"Please tell me what happened. If I'm not supposed to know I swear I won't say a word to anyone, or you can erase my memory or whatever you need to do but please for all that is sacred tell me what happened to you!"
Loki takes a breath.
"We went to Jotunheim."
"What?!"
"It's a long story. Anyway, we had to fight them and I was stabbed by one of their ice things. I swear I didn't feel the weapon, only later when I moved my shoulder I realised I had been stabbed." And then my skin turned blue. He can't bring himself to say that. He can't look into Breka's eyes either. When he finally does look at him, Breka's face is completely blank and he's staring at nothing. Loki carefully touches Breka's arm.
"Breka? Did you hear me?"
"I've seen this kind of injury before", Breka repeats his earlier words. "Daggers, or swords, or whatever they are, made from ice, slicing through flesh as if it was water."
"When did you fight a frost giant?"
"I didn't. I was eight. We just—mother and I found them."
"Who? Breka, you're not making sense."
Eventually Breka looks at Loki, tears running down his face. I've never seen him cry nor did I ever expect to, Loki thinks with a shudder. He gently wipes at Breka's cheeks.
"You were eight. What happened?" he says softly.
"Frost giants came to our village. Only two or three, I don't know why or how. My mother and I had gone to the forest, berry picking I think. When we came back nobody was left alive. The neighbours, the children I used to play with… by the time we made it to our house my mother was running as fast as she could. I had trouble keeping up with her. And then we found them. My father dead on the ground in front of his forge, wounds like this—"
He gestures at Loki's shoulder and heaves a sigh.
"And my sister, frozen, the slender blade father had made for her raised high above her head, ready to strike—but that strike never fell. She died trying to protect him, terrified, probably unable to move even before they froze her heart. She was fourteen."
Loki feels like he can't breathe. He's dizzy and nauseous and about to be sick with horror. Guided by a horribly twisted, perverse morbidity he forces himself to state it.
"Frost giants killed your family."
"Yes. There is no fighting them."
Loki speaks before he can think it through, reciting what he's been taught, as if his voice works against his will, flat and without emotion.
"According to legend King Odin did fight—and defeat—them. They were sent back to their world, never to return. Thor and I have heard that story a million times."
Breka's face is a mask of disgust now.
"Only they did return. And that's not legend. But they probably don't teach you that in the golden halls. In the grand scheme of things I guess a blacksmith and his daughter don't count."
Breka lets out a shaky breath.
"They are monsters, mindless and cruel, creatures made of cold and darkness and terror. They know no mercy, and they leave nothing but death and destruction in their wake."
Loki panics. He realises it's absolutely unthinkable to tell Breka what he is. Ever. Breka can't know the truth under any circumstances. Loki pulls up an invisible veil, fighting to appear calm, moulding his voice. Work, Silvertongue!
"I'm sorry, Breka, that was a stupid thing to say. I am so incredibly sorry for your loss, for what you had to go through, and at such a young age."
Breka's shoulders sag.
"I'm so relieved you escaped."
Kissing Loki between sobs he says:
"I'm sorry too. You did nothing wrong."
Only I did. I led them here, trying to buy time, convinced I had everything under control. Now two guards are dead and we are on the brink of war. And the man I love has every reason to loathe me. If I showed him my true colours, he'd be looking at the face of the monster that killed his family. Loki shrugs his clothes back into place, biting his tongue against the pain, determined to get his injury out of Breka's sight.
"What are you doing?"
"I realised this is beyond my abilities. I need a healer."
"I can go get Leif, or whoever is on duty."
"No, it's fine. It's just the shoulder, I can still walk."
Breka hesitates. Please don't. Stay with me tonight. What a selfish thing to say though, when Loki is obviously in pain, in need of he just nods and gives Loki another kiss. Will you come back later? Still selfish. The prince needs rest. The healers might even want to keep him there for the night. Loki kisses him back and slips out of the door, his boots making no sound on the stone floor. He's always so light on his feet. Breka strains his ears, trying to hear Loki's footsteps leading away from his door, but there's nothing.
Scene 48
In his quarters Loki lies down and heals his injury. It takes less than he thought. He rolls his shoulder a few times, and then he sits up and crosses his legs. He reaches into himself, to the part he has always considered "Loki". His magical core appears in front of his mind's eye as a green and golden sphere. He can feel something shift, like a shell cracking open. He recognises the feeling: he felt the same thing on Jotunheim, and then again when he held the casket. Now that he knows what to look for he can do it at will. The sphere is turning, and as Loki focuses on it, its golden streaks shimmer and then pale to a white so bright it's almost transparent. The rich vibrant green shifts to blue. He can feel his skin change and the markings appear, and he knows without looking in a mirror that his eyes have turned into a monster's. He considers staying in this form out of sheer defiance, but then he sneers. Yeah sure. Because being killed by Odin's guards would make such a point. His frustration makes his temper flare, and a flash of magical energy explodes from his hands. It looks different than it used to. It feels different, too. Colder, sharper, fiercer. And he enjoys it. Letting go of the brutal grip he's gotten used to keeping on himself and his powers, just for a second, is such a relief. He turns in a slow circle, looking for something to unleash his power on. Something that will burst and shatter with a satisfying amount of noise and messiness. He grinds his teeth. No. He has to get out of the palace, unseen, unnoticed. That shouldn't be hard to do, just look like the useless second son. He deliberately relaxes his muscles, searching inside his core for the part that is Asgardian. It feels so much like Frigga that his chest tightens for a moment. He shakes off the feeling and turns into the form she has created for him. Now where could he possibly go? He considers going to the stables for a horse, but the thought of running into—a guard… no.
Scene 49
Hidden in a dark corner Loki closes his eyes and shifts to bird form. He flaps his wings and takes off. The sensation of the air brushing his feathers brings a familiar feeling of liberation with it, allowing him to leave all the pain and frustration on the ground and rise above it. He's free. For a precious moment he's Loki, devoid of any connotations, just pure vitality. But soon enough the moment is over and he starts thinking about where he should go. Fly. He's cursing himself for not figuring that out beforehand. Thinking with a bird's brain never works that well… And then he realises what direction he's chosen. This course will lead him straight to Angrboda's house.
Scene 50
He lands on the tree in front of her house, then hops down from branch to branch and finally to the ground. Throwing up a veil and turning back into human form he stares at the light coming from her window. She's always welcomed him to her house—and her bed—even though she's made it perfectly clear that she has no intention of living with him. Or anyone, for that matter. He's never asked if she has other lovers. He straightens, glad to have come to a decision. Her house won't be a place to stay, but it can provide shelter for a while. And Angrboda herself might just be the right person—the only person actually—to confess his true nature to.
Scene 51
Loki is sitting in Angrboda's kitchen like so many times before, and she's currently trying to process what he's just told her.
"You're a frost giant."
"Apparently."
He pulls his knees up and wraps his arms around them, making himself as small as possible. His voice is shaky and hushed, and he's not looking at her.
"It's all been one big scam. I'm not Asgardian. My family isn't my family. I'm not a prince. I'm the enemy, and I'm a monster."
She pushes her chair back and stands, leaning on the table.
"A monster? According to whom, your Asgardian upbringing? You do realise history is written by the victorious, don't you? My own folk aren't exactly loved by the Asgardians either."
"I've never heard anyone refer to an earth giant as a monster," he snaps.
"Well we don't usually go around kill—" She catches herself when he flinches. "I'm sorry. I'm just saying you and I might be more alike than we thought."
She squats down beside him.
"Show me. Turn."
"No."
"Please."
She raises and steps behind him, putting her hands on his shoulders.
"Please."
The room falls completely silent, and then she draws in a breath and takes a few steps back when he complies, straightening, standing, turning to look at her. She swallows, fascinated by his gleaming eyes and the markings on his face. Gaze still locked with his she comes back to him and extends her hand. He glances down at her hand on his chest, velvet cinnamon on icy blue. He can tell his skin is burning hers, but she doesn't pull away.
"Ice so cold it feels like fire," she whispers.
Finally she does break the contact and studies the burn marks on her palm.
"Water and Earth, creating Fire."
She looks into his eyes again.
"You're so much more of a prince now than you've ever been before."
"You faked appreciation for my Asgardian form quite convincingly."
"Oh I'm so not complaining about the form. It's just that I never quite understood what attracted me to an Asgardian princeling. But it all makes sense now. This is so much more my type."
She brushes her fingertips over the markings on his forehead.
"You're beautiful, Loki, and oh, the power you possess! I can feel it, like a wave rolling off of you. You have the purest Jotun magic at your disposal, layered with what your Asgardian mother taught you. They are intertwined, refining each other like an alloy of two metals forming unbreakable steel. If you choose to take the throne, either one of the two you're entitled to, you'll rule with an iron grip. Odin is weak, and Laufey failed to see your potential. But you'd make a glorious king."
Loki withdraws from her touch.
"I don't understand why everybody wants me on a throne all of a sudden. What's in it for you?"
She straightens to her full height.
"I want nothing for myself. My door will be open for you to come and go as you please, just as it always has been."
"Nothing for yourself, but—?"
"I expect you to acknowledge our children."
"Expect, do you?"
"Yes. They can enforce your rule on land and at sea, not to mention the underworld—and this child will master the sky."
She puts her hand on her stomach in the universal gesture of all mothers.
"Wait, what?"
Loki shifts back and covers her hand with his. For a few heartbeats there's a sound like wings flapping, and then it's gone. Loki locks eyes with Angrboda.
"It's true. You're expecting."
Scene 52
Later, after they have gone to bed, Loki puts his hand on Angrboda's stomach once more and whispers:
"What am I to you?"
There's a quip on the tip of her tongue, but when she sees the pain in his eyes her own gaze softens.
"Father of my children, friend, ally, comrade, lover. And, like I said, always welcome under my roof."
He gives her a small smile.
"Thank you for granting me shelter and protection. I'm aware of your rules. One night."
Angrboda gently traces his jawline.
"Your whole existence just shattered. I think I can make an exception."
He understands her immediately, and relief floods his whole body.
"Thank you. It won't be for long, I promise. Just a little while, to rest and to regroup. I won't forget your kindness and generosity."
She lies back.
"I will go hunt tomorrow. Would you come with me?"
"You don't need my help hunting. If anything I'll slow you down."
"I'm expecting our son as well."
Loki sits up.
"Fenris goes hunting with you?"
"Not very often, maybe once a month."
He lies back down with a smile on his face.
"Very well, I'll join you. I can't expect you to share your kill with me, can I? So I better earn my keep."
Angrboda grins.
"Do you remember your training?"
"I think I do although I might be a bit rusty."
He shifts and heaves a sigh.
"But I will be of no use to you and our son if I don't rest."
"Will you be able to sleep?"
"I'm not sure."
"Remember how I taught you to control your breathing?"
"While taking aim? Yes, why? Wanna go over my bow and arrow lessons?"
She chuckles.
"I hope that won't be necessary. But it can serve as a meditation as well. Steady your breath, slow down your heart, bring your mind to a standstill. Give your soul some rest."
He relaxes his muscles and focuses on his breathing, and eventually he becomes calmer. Turning towards her he murmurs:
"Thank you, Angrboda."
She just smiles and gently kisses his temple, and then she pulls him into her arms, and he feels safe enough with her to finally let down his guard and fall asleep.
Scene 53
Angrboda plays with the fur blanket covering their naked bodies.
"You don't really need the fur, do you?"
"I'm not cold if that's what you mean. But I do enjoy the feel of it on my skin."
He pulls her on top of him.
"Just like I enjoy the feel of you on my skin."
Angrboda smirks and gives him a long, sensual kiss, her body moving against his. Just as she sits up there's a bang on the front door of her house. She looks at Loki, rolls her hips once and gets up.