The ear comm felt foreign in his ear, but Loki ignored the discomfort and focused on directing his senses outward, searching in every direction for concealed dangers as he ran. Nothing seemed amiss, which meant almost-certain ambush, it was merely a question of when. Just as Agent Mack had observed, it was indeed 'too quiet.'

It surprised him, as he hurried along, how liberating was to wear his armor again after having gone without for so long. He had always found full battle dress to be somewhat restricting, usually preferring his leathers, which enabled him to be quick on his feet and allowed for greater freedom of movement.

Yet as the weight of his helm on his head and the pressure of his breastplate forced him to stand taller, straighter, Loki could feel his brain wrenching itself free of the fog in which it had sat stagnating these last few days. He had been heavily involved in mission planning up until this point, knowing all the while he was to play no role in the confrontation itself – that when the moment came, he would step aside and permit others to fight the battle on his behalf.

A king who had willingly given the care of his queen to another, relinquished his crown, and assumed the role of spectator only. Less than even a pawn.

But now, due to his own oversight or not, he was back on the board – and there he would stay until he knew Brynn was safe.

The tracking spell Loki had placed in the facsimile of Brynn's ring allowed him to catch up to the group quickly and he dashed past, deliberately not alerting May or May to his presence. Keeping pace several yards ahead, he then turned and began walking in reverse, gauging his footsteps in the direction Brynn seemed to be headed and taking the occasional glance over his shoulder to verify the path behind him remained clear.

Did she see him? he wondered, anxiously studying her face as she walked. Could she see him? Somewhere in her subconscious, did she know he was near?

Surely she did, Loki told himself. Brynn had reached out to him, that night in Ives's lab, had she not? Defied the impossible, penetrated his thoughts with her own, and said, Loki, anchoring his psyche and sanity with just the sound of her voice and enabling him to twist free of the scepter's siren song.

I'm here, Loki called to her, pouring his love into every word in desperate hope that he could be that very same anchor for her. I will be here, every step of the way. Just a bit longer and the nightmare will end, liten vannfe – dronningen av mitt hjerte, mitt livs lys.*

He held his breath for the length of two hallways in hopes of a reply, but felt not even the faintest trace of acknowledgment.

Frustrated, Loki turned his attention back towards more practical matters, the top priority being to improve the group's defensive perimeter, and reached out a hand to cast a second illusion of himself.

The double had scarcely begun to take shape when a searing pain lanced throughout his skull and knifed its way deep within. A hissed grunt of surprise escaped him as he stumbled, his still-outstretched hand flying back to his forehead as the projection behind Mack and May misted away.

Grimacing, he dug the heel of his palm into the crown of his head, breathing harshly as he fought his way through the agony. He had not been struck by an outside source; this pain was internal, and he knew what it signaled.

The discomfort finally subsided, settling into a nagging throb behind his left eye.

He straightened, took a slow breath before resuming his backwards course and wearily reached forward once more. The double flickered into being, solidified, and this time, held fast.

The projection could not defend itself, but Loki felt it safe to assume that any foe would be stymied by the unexpected sight of Earth's would-be king coming at them, horns and daggers bared. A few seconds' distraction was all he needed to traverse the distance and assess how best to incapacitate the enemy.

A sentry spell was cast next, adding echolocation to his arsenal of senses, followed by a foul-tasting analgesic to treat his worsening headache.

Loki tossed the empty ampoule aside, shuddering, then wiped his mouth and made a final inspection of his security measures.

Brynn, May and Mack were now flanked fore and aft, Loki concealed in front and ready to act as first line of defense, and the projection bringing up the rear should they be struck from behind. The sentry spell encompassed the entire party, its jets of glowing green arcing over everyone's heads in slow, random intervals.

Satisfied. Loki fell back into step in front of the group.

They walked along, dodging the occasional SHIELD passersby assigned to the nightshift. The chatter on the comm continued to be of little consequence, which meant Thor had yet to catch onto his trick, but Loki nevertheless paid close attention, wanting to ensure his double made the correct replies when the occasional question was directed to him.

"And we've got confirmation the scepter has been relocated and is secure?" Fury was asking.

"Yes, sir," Simmons replied. "And I'm getting status updates every five minutes from the guards, as you requested."

"Thanks, Jemma," Coulson said as an aside to Simmons, then turned his attention back to his team on the ground. "So, still no idea of what direction she's heading for?"

"Not yet," May answered, "We've passed the rec lounge at least twice – hang on, she's turning back again…"

A whisper of vibration grazed Loki's eardrums, feather-light.

His ears instantly zeroed in on the sound. Before him May and Mack had not missed a step, a sure sign that the pitch of whatever he had heard was beyond their range of hearing – and beyond the sensitivity of the mics on SHIELD's bodycams.

The vibration skimmed throughout his ears a second time, and Loki's mouth twitched in the faintest of smirks.

"I need a moment, brother," he heard his own voice mutter over the comm.

Twenty-two decks above, Loki's double went to go sit on the bed and hung his head in his hands, wanting to be alone.

Twenty-two decks below, the corporeal Loki kept walking at the head of the group, looking oblivious and meticulously tracking the path of whatever was accompanying them overhead in the ceiling.

Once he was certain he would be able to maintain the element of surprise, Loki finally slowed his steps and came to a stop in the middle of the corridor – as did the vibration above him.

Amateur.

He lifted the helm from his head, moving to hold it under one arm as he rubbed his neck with the opposite hand. Feigning soreness – this wasn't hard – he allowed the others to pass by and did some quick thinking. Assuming Brynn maintained the same speed, he had approximately three minutes in which to dispatch with their upstairs companion before she reached the boundaries of the sentry spell.

Plenty of time. He just needed to keep Mack and May unawares of the dispatching process itself.

Loki re-donned his helm and looked ahead to where his charges were reaching the end of the hallway. Muttering an audible curse – wanting to imply to their observer overhead he had not intended to fall so far behind – he dodged after them, as did the near-silent scampering the ceiling tiles.

Glowing threads of green began to dance at his fingertips as he sprinted, weaving into soundproof barrier that would trail behind the group when he parted ways. He nudged the barrier forth just as Brynn was turning the corner and tightened the threads together.

Loki followed along to accompany them into the next hallway, walked precisely the length of two strides, then spun on his heel and whipped back around the corner to fling a dagger at the ceiling.

The blade detonated on impact, and plaster and plastic rained down as a lanky male form tumbled through the ceiling tiles. He fell to the floor, made a suspiciously feather-light landing in a heap of flailing arms and legs, and pushed himself back up into a seated position.

Loki brushed away the debris from his armor with a regal sniff of disdain, chin held high as he studied his would-be attacker. The boy was small-statured and appeared no more than twenty, dark haired and dark eyed, and a face that shone with all the cockiness of youth.

Oh, to be young again.

"Inhuman?" Loki surmised aloud.

The boy spat plaster dust out of his mouth and sneered.

"Yeah," he declared. "And your worst nightmare."

He scrambled to his feet, but the momentum of his legs as he pushed up to stand took his feet an inch or two off the ground and then back again - a dead giveaway of his ability.

He can alter his own mass, Loki realized. Not to the point of hovering completely above a surface, but enough that he could skim along, quiet as a bug gliding over water.

No wonder his movements had gone unheard.

Loki curled his thumb and forefinger to flick a stray piece of plaster from his left vambrace, aiming right for the boy's face.

"Please tell me you come armed with more than a light foot and tired clichés," he drawled as the inhuman cursed and swiped at his forehead, and then swore a second time when he saw a streak of blood come away on his hand.

He lifted his eyes to glare at Loki, face twisted in unfettered outrage.

"Oh, fuck you, asshole," he snarled.

Loki let out a scornful snort of laughter.

"A flattering proposal," he mused, grinning. "And yet such a revolting mental image."

The inhuman replied with a smug smile and dropped to the ground in a one-kneed crouch. Gaze locked on Loki's, he reached an arm down and lightly touched the ground, waiting for him to make the first move.

"You do know who I am, correct?" Loki dryly reminded.

The inhuman smiled again and pressed his fingers against the floor.

Five branches of crystalline hoarfrost shot out from his fingertips and began snaking rapidly over the surface of the gleaming black tile, headed straight for Loki.

Ah. The boy apparently knew more than one party trick.

Loki watched, brow lifted in vague disinterest, as the icy tendrils crisscrossed over one another to create a single frenzied path, and then hit the soles of his boots in what he assumed was intended to be an impressive display. The ice started creeping upwards on contact, encrusting him up to his ankles and creaking faintly as layer upon layer of frozen stalactites formed over the leather.

He looked down at his feet and sighed. Really?

"In the interest of time," he said, lifting his eyes back up to the inhuman, "Could we operate on the presumption that you literally have no chance of winning this fight?"

"Try me, dipshit," challenged the boy, and then leaned further down to press his palm flat against the floor.

The ice floes from his fingertips began to ripple and twist, their temperature dropping to sub-Arctic levels.

Loki's breath left him in a put-upon huff but said nothing, looking increasingly bored as jagged stalactites edged their way further up his boots. The ice's molecular structure was a peculiar arrangement of hydrogen and oxygen, affording it superior rigidity and coldness that would have proven difficult for even an Aesir to endure.

For a Jotunn?

The little twit might as well have been lobbing snowballs.

The inhuman' self-assured smirk was starting to show signs of wear, however, as he at last began to take notice that Loki was showing no signs of succumbing to what should have been a fatal case of frostbite. His smile had dropped from his face completely by the time the progression of ice reached Loki's hips, and the whites of his eyes grew visible when the god broke free in one single, menacing step forward.

"Done?" Loki inquired.

He did not wait for a response. One blast from the Casket of Ancient Winters later - followed by a few more for good measure, just to teach the whelp a lesson in respecting his superiors - and the inhuman found himself confined from head-to-toe within a miniaturized glacier, plastered against the wall.

Loki had taken care not to strike with the Casket's full force (he personally had no qualms as to the body count, but was trying to keep casualties a minimum, for Brynn's sake), but in a truly exquisite case of poetic justice, the inhuman was kneecapped, as using his powers would serve only to entrap him further.

He strode over to the icy encasement, not bothering to redon his Aesir glamor and peered through the glassy surface. Frightened brown eyes looked out at him, slightly obscured behind inches-thick layers of flawless ice.

"Ready to talk?"

"Y-yeah," the inhuman answered, voice muffled.

"Who put you up to this?"

"Dr. Ives."

"Anyone else?" Loki pressed.

The boy went to shake his head but found he could not. "Uh-uh."

"How many more of you are there?"

"A hundred," he blurted out.

Loki tsked, scarlet eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiled. "God of Lies, mortal. Try again."

The boy angrily strained against the confines of the ice and then gave up, panting from exertion.

"Twenty," he puffed, "but I don't know where everyone is. She stuck us all over the Helicarrier."

Loki vanished the Casket away, frowning. "All inhumans, I take it?"

The boy nodded.

"And what of their powers?"

"Dunno," he said again. The ring of defeat in his voice was unmistakable, even with the icy barrier between them. "We all worked alone."

"But why?" Loki asked curiously. "Why throw your lot in with Ives? What did she have to offer you?"

"She messes with your head," muttered the boy.

Loki's gaze sharpened.

"Explain."

The boy blanched, realizing too late that he had spoken out loud.

"She – she's a shrink, man," he sputtered, making a valiant endeavor to recover under the weight of Loki's hard stare. "Messing with peoples' heads is, like, basically her job – hey, wait!"

Loki had turned and started walking away; the theory forming in his mind did not require to listen further.

"C'mon, man!" the boy plaintively hollered after him, "Are you just gonna leave me here? How long will take for this thing to melt?!"

"Long enough," Loki replied, not looking back. "Try sending up a prayer to Surtr, it might speed things up."

"Who the fuck is Surtr?!"


Brynn and the agents had not gone far, and Loki soon located them one floor below. Opting for the stairs, he dashed passed the elevator, hipped the exit door open and took the steps in a single leap.

The sound of his feet hitting the ground reverberated throughout the empty stairwell shaft as he landed. Still crouched, Loki took an impatient swipe at the sweat that had started trickling into his eyes and went to spring back up – then remained locked in place as his gaze slowly returned to his right forearm.

The hand that had wiped his brow was Jotunn.

Cement walls shifted to ink-black sky and swirling snow as ruby eyes roved over fingers, knuckles and palm. A familiar sight rendered wretchedly foreign beneath a cowl of blue flesh, blurring the barriers of which skin represented his true self versus not.

He was no fool; Brynn had been terrified the afternoon she witnessed his transformation from Aesir to Jotunn. He would not debase himself into believing she had not been afraid. Theirs was no fanciful children's tale, wherein the heroine for the first time saw the true form of her monstrous love and instantly gazed upon him without fear.

The heroine's fear was an indelible brand, carved into the very core of the beast's soul, and echoed with every beat of his frozen heart.

But as Loki stood there, alone in a stairwell stranded upon the frozen wastelands of Jotunheim, warmer memories began to whisper throughout his mind.

The softness of Brynn's palm cradled against his cheek as she caressed the ridged patterns marring his skin. The vibration of her voice, quiet at his back, holding him close and stubbornly refusing to let go. Small reminders that once her initial shock had faded, she saw him as neither beast nor prince, but only Loki.

And had proven every day since that she continued to see him as only himself.

Brow creased in a thoughtful frown, Loki lifted his head and cast a quick glance around. Use of the Casket had forced aside his Aesir glamor, but he had been keeping the effects of his Jotunn physiology in check. The soles of his boots had imparted no ice when he landed, and neither his subsequent footsteps.

He braced an elbow on his knee and pushed to stand, easing up to his full height. The crimson of his eyes bled back into their usual color as his Aesir complexion returned, washing over his face and down his neck – all but his hands, which remained blue.

Taking a deep breath, Loki turned towards the stairwell door and extended his left arm, long fingers outstretched and slightly trembling.

Your birthright…was to die! As a child, cast out onto a frozen rock…

He cringed.

Then, another voice.

I don't know what a Frost Giant is, and I don't know what happened to you that makes you hate that part of yourself so much…but the bad stuff is why you're you…

His eyes slowly closed.

"Breathe," he whispered to himself, "Don't think. You're safe."

The tremor in his hand subsided. He took another deep breath, quelling his fears with the memory of Brynn's clumsy, impassioned words, and leaned forward to touch the smooth metal surface of the door.

Five patches of emerald hoarfrost blossomed beneath his icy fingertips.

Loki exhaled, a cloud of vapor escaping from between his parted lips as he opened his eyes to examine his handiwork. The crystalline prints shimmered under the pads of his fingers, impatiently awaiting his next command.

Swallowing, he obliged the ringing song of his magic and nudged the spell deeper.

Fractals of hoarfrost spiraled together in a mad rush of ice as Loki drew his hand back, and began spreading outward at breakneck speed. The door was being consumed from within, its layers of steel violently atomizing and breaking apart, and in a matter of seconds had re-solidified in the form of a frozen, door-shaped slab.

Loki's face brightened in the faintest of smiles.

He reached forward once more, this time placing his palm flat against the door – and for the first time in his life, willingly – eagerly – tripped the switch between man and monster and unleashed his Jotunn-stained Seidr without restraint.

Crystalline whorls began to coat every available surface of the stairwell, romping outward and inward in a joyful chaos of ice and magic - and did not stop.

It was working.

Loki's hand dropped back to his side, panting with exhilaration as he turned to watch his crystalline swarm ran rampant. Fractals of green hoarfrost were worming themselves between and around and within every molecule of cement, plastic and metal, transmuting atom by atom into a contiguous structure of ice unlike any other in Yggdrasil.

There was no elegance to this magic, he knew. No cleverness, no evidence to suggest it was the brainchild of a precise and sophisticated mind. This magic was wild and unrestrained, made possible only by the creator's willingness to leap and look later, to dodge and weave and spin on the head of a pin for the sole reason of seeing what might happen next.

'Impulsive' was never among the attributes ascribed to Loki growing up, neither was careless or rash – such traits were Thor's domain, and Loki was more than happy to let his brother be expert. Yes, he may have been the god of chaos, but he himself was not chaotic by nature. At the core of his mischief and mayhem was always a well-orchestrated plan.

This...was not well-orchestrated. And he craved more of it.

Odin would have been appalled by such a lack of control, Loki mused as he watched his Seidr happily gambol hither and yon.

Frigga…Frigga would have smiled, he decided, had she been there.

And Brynn?

She would ask for a blizzard of fireworks and pull him into the dance.

When the ice's progression had extended one floor fully above and below him, Loki reluctantly halted the spell, but promised himself he would make time to explore this new aspect of his Seidr as soon as he could.

Still half-dizzy on adrenaline, he peered over the edge of the railing.

The stairwell was now was now encased in radiant sheets of green ice. Either by intention or accident, he had created a frozen radius that dropped the surrounding temperatures on each floor to subarctic climes – conveniently forcing any living creature in the vicinity to relocate in search of warmer locations on the Helicarrier.

Altogether a much more expedient method of circumventing Ives's cadre of inhumans.

Brynn and the agents had remained in close enough proximity for Loki to transform their protection spell remotely, and he quickly altered its function to serve as a bubble of room temperature air. He could adjust the circumference of the bubble at any time, and transmute it higher or lower as needed, making the necessary adjustments as they went along.

This ran the risk of icing Ives out and into the open, of course, in turn foiling SHIELD's objective of catching her in the act and discovering the mole hiding amongst their ranks. But if that were to happen, at least now Loki could be free of a guilty conscience after Brynn woke up. Much as she wanted the mission to be carried out to full extent, he knew she also wanted as little blood left on his hands as possible – preferably none at all. In her mind, more lives spared took precedence over the mission's complete success. His newfound method was appallingly anticlimactic, but gauranteed fewer casualties.

Besides, driving Ives out of hiding was hardly a loss; doing so would put her under the purview of the Helicarrier's security cameras, where she could be captured and questioned.

Satisfied, Loki took the next flight of stairs in another leap. He staggered slightly upon landing and quickly threw out a hand to the railing to regain his balance, then straightened and pushed open the door leading to the next floor.

He stepped into the hall and was dismayed to see Brynn and the other entering yet another elevator.

How had he fallen so far behind?

Loki broke into a sprint, catching up just in time to dodge between the closing doors right as they slid shut.

"Deck Zero-Zero this time," May said as Loki nimbly stepped around her and Brynn to press himself flat against the back wall of the elevator. Panting, he hung his head, hands on his knees and tried to catch his breath.

"There's absolutely no pattern to the direction she's taking," came Fitz's voice over the comm.

"What's her EEG looking like?" Mack asked as the elevator started its ascent.

The edges of Loki's vision were starting to blacken, but this did not stop him from casting a suspicious sneer in Mack's direction. Precisely what were the agent's intentions in making such an inquiry about Brynn?

"Varying degrees of awful."

Hearing Simmons's reply stopped Loki downward spiral into petty jealousy – as did his spinning head. His reserves – mental, physical – were running dangerously low, and he could no longer ignore the crushing draw upon his magic.

This was not the time to drive himself to the brink, he told himself.

Taking a shuddering breath, Loki closed his eyes and broke the sentry spell, followed by the duplicate illusions of himself. Lifting the spells resulted in minimal improvement. Out of options, he had no other choice but to shrink the radius of the icy sphere he had only just created.

Finally, his vision began to clear, but he had scarcely finished breathing a sigh of relief when he heard Thor's voice on the comm, speaking in the background:

"Loki? Brother, where did you go…?"

One second passed, followed by another. Then each brother swore in tandem, the elder realizing he had been fooled, the younger realizing his error.

Damn.

Loki wearily let his face fall into one hand as the chatter on the comm exploded into a tumult of voices, intermixed with shouting – mostly Thor's.

"Wait, are you saying he followed us?" Mack was asking.

May showed no interest in joining the fray, and lifted her hand. She snapped her fingers twice, trying to catch Mack's attention. Mack did not seem to notice, but Loki certainly did, and watched with interest as May snapped her fingers two more times, again in quick succession.

Now Mack looked up, then frowned when he saw May wordlessly motion for him to mute his calm.

He did as she requested, looking confused, and nodded back to her to confirm he had switched over to incoming communication only.

May followed suit with her own comm, then reached forward and punched the elevator's emergency stop button.

"Of course he followed us," she said shortly as the elevator jerked to a halt. "I'm just surprised it took everyone this long to figure out."

Loki's eyes began to take on a dangerous gleam.

"And when were you planning on filling me in on your hunch?" Mack demanded, understandably incensed that his partner had withheld such a crucial detail.

May had bent down to unholster her Beretta.

"I needed to be sure," she shrugged, straightening back up with her weapon in hand. She pressed the emergency stop button again, and the elevator resumed course.

"And now you're sure," Mack said flatly.

"I'm sure enough."

Mack went to reply but fell quiet when a chime came from overhead, signaling the elevator's arrival to the next floor. The doors slid apart, and Brynn stepped out and into the hallway, May and Mack close at her heels, a fuming God of Mischief bringing up the rear.

"Really appreciate you keeping me informed," Mack grumbled as they trailed behind Brynn. "I mean, if you're right, that explains why it's been quiet this whole time."

"Picking inhumans off left and right, you mean?"

"Who knows," Mack huffed, "The thing is, how are we supposed to find him? It's not like he's going to just show up if we ask nicely."

Loki could hear the smirk in May's voice when she replied, "We're not going to ask nicely."

Mack had been taking vague glances around as they bickered back and forth, trying to spot where Loki might be hiding, and so did not see when May raised her weapon, undid the safety, and took aim at Brynn's back.

"But why would he – Jesus Christ, Melinda!"

Mack had no sooner witnessed his partner seemingly lose her mind and point her sidearm at an innocent woman than he saw Loki towering over her, helmed, armored to the teeth, face darkened in barely-contained rage — and one hand gripped around her neck.


There are typos in here, but I was so excited to finally fucking post an update that I just went with it. AAAAAAND, 95% of the next chapter is written, which means there shouldn't be too long of a wait for another update!

But...it's me. So.

Come see the random shit I post on tumblr! My username is wrathkitty. There you will also find sneak peeks of upcoming SL chapters, and a post I will write this weekend about why I dropped off the face of the planet for the last two months. Should be a good read. I'LL GIVE YOU SOME HIGHLIGHTS: My cat ate my Vyvanse (she's fine); I fractured my foot; the pinnacle of crazy that is my in-laws has reached the fucking stratosphere and now features a stories involving the SWAT team, shots fired, gastric bypass surgery, and 30+ hunting dogs in the backyard...br /
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...And so much more.

I love you guys. MWAH.