- Chapter 3 -

The file was paused quickly when McCorrmick heard Agent Barton speak. The agent was wrong about what he thought was happening. It was all in the files. When he tried to open his mouth to tell them that he found that there was a strange force holding his mouth shut. It couldn't be gotten around with the sarammr since it felt like it was beneath it. McCorrmick was suddenly trapped in his own body, unable to move. Skuld's voice drifted through his mind.

They must be shown, she whispered to him. In the seeing of this is their punishment. He understood where the whisper from before came from as he was released from her grip as quickly as he was held in it. It was slightly unsettling to have it happen. His actions displeasing her worried him more. They hadn't even made it through the first file before he jeopardized his chances of success. Nervousness snaked through the young man again. An image of Aiden passed through his mind swiftly; his body decimated by the drugs. Even the truck's heater couldn't keep him warm on the drive home. The terrible wrenching pain of being forced to say goodbye that night was the worst memory of his life. Every other family in his clan knew the same pain of betrayal. This was the first opportunity in thousands of years of betrayal and loss to lessen the pain. I cannot fail!

"Sit, mortal," Frey spoke calmly to Clint Barton as he stood, bow in hand.

Pointing towards King Frey, Clint turn angrily. "You don't tell me what to do!" he said hotly.

Quietly observing Barton's anger left Frey disgusted with it. He understood the reasons behind it, but for this man to be so callous towards Loki was still a witless betrayal. It's only because she favors you so that I tolerate you, he thought.

"I do. Sit down, Agent Barton. We don't know what's happening, so you will sit, and you will be quiet," Director Fury spoke with a tone hard as steel.

"But sir, Tony..." Clint started in.

"But nothing. Sit! Now, Agent Barton," Director Fury ordered. Loki was a bad subject for the Avengers. It was one he'd hoped was settled.

Sitting down was quiet, but the look on Clint's face was hard. He didn't set his bow down, instead holding it with one hand and running his other hand over it.

"He's alive, my child is alive," a quiet, loving voice broke the anger in the room and drew their attention back to it. Frigga sat with one hand gripped tightly in her husband's, the other resting over her chest. She looked so hopeful as she turned to Odin, "Our child is alive."

"He must be returned to Asgard for trial, you know this," Odin chided her. He didn't want her thinking things would return to what they'd been. That idea, were it allowed to settle in, would mean that there would be no end to him hearing her opinion on that matter.

"But he's alive, that's enough for me," she said. Her eyes shone brightly with unshed tears and hope. She wanted so badly to speak with her son again. Frigga wanted to be able to ask him what happened, why he'd done as he did. None of it made any sense. If he was truly alive than she'd be able to speak with him on this. She'd have the time to aid him in setting his mind right from wherever it'd gone wrong.

That he'd forgotten that she was in the room stopped Clint. Loki's mother. He couldn't be cruel to her. Any mother would be happy to know that their child was alive, he couldn't fault her for that. He hated Loki, but not this poor woman. She'd lost her child so many times that just knowing he was alive, even in the face of his crimes, was enough to bring her happiness. Clint couldn't find it in himself to begrudge her that. Truthfully, he pitied her. She did such a good job raising Thor. Clint thought that there must have been something wrong with Loki. As a father himself he understood that some problems were simply inborn, and no amount of decent parenting was going to fix them. Even so, a parent's love was unending. He sat back in his chair. It was slightly awkward, but he didn't hate Loki as much as he wanted to. As Clint tried to hold tight to his hatred he tried try to keep quiet about it. For this poor woman, this poor mother, he could be a better man.

In that moment he wished that he could talk to Lilith about this. His wife, Laura, always helped him to think about things more calmly, and in a practical manner. Natasha gave him ways to handle the people and situations around him. It was Lilith though, who helped him to deal with the unruly parts of himself. She was the reason he wasn't filled with as much anger and hate as he wanted to be at that moment. Those things weren't healthy for him, which was why she'd been trying to help him through them, so he could be rid of them. Clint was so grateful to Lilith. He was healthier than he'd been in years, and it was all because of her. He was glad to have so many wonderful women in his life. Clint found himself tempted to hate Tony and Rhodey as well. No, Loki must have enslaved them as well. It wasn't their fault. It was Loki's. They were just more casualties in Loki's bloody wake. A touch of worry entered his thoughts. Lilith worked so closely with Tony. If Loki captured Tony, then how close to danger was she? She was just a personal assistant, not even combat trained. Clint was uncomfortable with the thought of Lilith unknowingly being around Loki. She was such a small woman that even a tap from someone as strong as Loki would be lethal. Clint wanted to leave right then, not just to find and kill Loki, but to find and secure Lilith. Every minute she was around that psychopath she was in terrible danger. That made him very uncomfortable. He wondered what it would take to finally kill Loki. He sighed and wondered if it was even possible. The bastard was damn hard to kill, and it looked like he had both Tony and Rhodey playing on his side. This had turned into an unsettling mess very quickly. Director Fury's voice dragged him out of his thoughts.

"Loki didn't die in that theater. That was why we never found a body. There was a lot of blood, but no body," Director Fury paused, contemplating, "Stark went in alone, ahead of everyone. Loki must have used the scepter on him, turned him for the Chitauri. Then Colonel Rhodes later on. Now Stark is working with Chitauri tech."

Internally as he scoffed at Director Fury silently while externally Frey kept his calm expression in place. What flights of fancy are going on about? He knew very well that Anthony would never do anything but burn the Chitauri and their master. That wasn't a concern. The mortals were badly misinformed. He looked over at the Truthkeeper. The way the boy looked at him earlier was concerning. There was no need for pity if the boy didn't know of his involvement. How much do you know?

Direct was bad last time. Is indirect how I should guide them? Instead of telling them explicitly that they were wrong McCorrmick thought that telling them that they should think about what they were seeing and be patient would be better. Unfortunately for him when he went to open his mouth to speak it wouldn't open. Drifting downwards his gaze settled on his laptop. Indirect is bad too. I've screwed up twice. How many more do I get before I fail? It grated a little to not be able to tell them, "You're all wrong." He wanted to point to King Frey and say, "and he knows it!" They might have been emmika but that didn't mean he thought they should suffer needlessly. What does she want me to do?

You must show them, Skuld's sing-song voice lilted through his mind again. The young corporal noticed King Frey watching him closely out of the corner of his eye. Normally he wouldn't mind having a man that attractive watching him, emmiki or no. Since today wasn't normal McCorrmick wanted as little attention as he could get. There was something more important than any appealing man that needed to take up his attention.

"Was," Bruce interjected suddenly. He wasn't comfortable with the possibility of Director Fury designating Tony or Rhodey as an enemy combatant. It was something he'd seen the Director do before, and with a little more ease and speed than he was comfortable with. Bruce wished the two of them were there to explain themselves.

It wasn't hard for Steve to see unease on Bruce's face since he wasn't skilled at hiding things. It was an unease he shared. Having the Director brand either of his teammates a traitor and enemy combatant wasn't what was needed in his opinion. They were under Loki's control, and it looked like they had been for several years. They needed to plan out apprehending Tony and Rhodey, so that they could be freed of that control. Once they were free, then each of them could explain what happened. Steve thought that between them they probably had lots of valuable information on Loki.

"Excuse me, Doctor?" Director Fury looked over to Dr. Banner.

"Whatever he was doing, he finished it," Bruce took off his glasses again and wiped them clean. "The dates on the schematics are from years ago. It seems to point to him being done with them, is all. Nothing's happened." He put his glasses back on. Despite him having the uncomfortable feeling that his friends had been up to some less-than-legal things he still wanted to give them the opportunity to explain themselves.

Anthony has been studying the enemy? Frey took in that piece of information with interest. This is what the mortal meant. It pleased him to know. When he and Anthony found Thanos, it would make it that much easier to destroy him should they understand his army's capabilities first. Sooner will be better; I'll dispatch more trackers when I return home. Killing him may ease the rage. He did wonder why Anthony wouldn't have shared that information. He knew well that Frey and the armies of Vanaheim would be by his side. Perhaps they were too advanced for a Midgardian to understand. He might not understand what he has. That would be sensible considering his level of skill. I'll ask after them when I see him next. Frey didn't hold that against his nephew-by-law. While being very intelligent, Anthony was only a Midgardian. Their capacity to learn, understand and act was limited after all. Truly, the most impressive mental trait he'd observed in his nephew-by-law was his utter resistance to being moved by subtlety. He simply didn't notice it. Trying to manipulate him was as rewarding as trying to knock down a brick wall by throwing fruit at it.

"That's not a comforting thought, Dr. Banner," Director Fury said.

"But it didn't work," Pepper protested weakly. "The scepter didn't work."

"Loki clearly found a way to make it work," Director Fury looked at her.

Tightening down his seidr core just a little more left the pale monarch in slightly more pain. It was worth it to be quiet. Frey was quite proud that the scepter was no longer a worry. That was just another thing he wouldn't willingly give away.

As he looked down at his hands resting in his lap Thor sat silently. They were empty until he started anxiously fidgeting with the material of his jeans. Loki had become his least favorite subject in recent years. Losing his Little Brother was a blow he'd never quite recovered from. It still felt as if there were a hole in the middle of him, all jagged edges and hollow at the center. He remembered the last time he'd seen his Little Brother. It was only on a security monitor in Avengers Tower after Loki teleported into the tower, took back the scepter and fled. He looked nothing like the man Thor called Little Brother. Loki was too thin and too pale. There were dark circles under his watering eyes. He looked unwell in Thor's opinion, as he did when he was truly just a child. Thor didn't often put thought to those days. The jumble of emotions they brought up was hurtful.

Loki was so ill as a child that there were many times when Thor thought that his Little Brother wouldn't live to grow up. He hated those days. Even the memory of them burned him raw. He could still see his Little Brother lying in the bed in the healing rooms. Both Thor's hands clenched into fists. There were many machines surrounding Loki in the healing rooms. Thor shivered slightly in his seat as the anxious hate burned through his thoughts. A machine to look after his heart, a machine to keep him breathing, another machine to alert the healers when his organs began failing again. There were even experimental machines to try to monitor his seidr which came from the Lord of Nidavellir's Little Brother, Prince Brokkr. His Uncle Frey arranged for them, but they never worked. There was no machine that could monitor seidr, and so there was always a Heal Mistress in the room with Loki. She would sit in amongst the machines. There were so many machines, and Thor hated each and every one of them. He hated that Loki needed those machines. For as much as he loved his Little Brother, there was nothing he could do for Loki. It was only the machines that could do anything, and even they couldn't do much. Loki got better, or so Thor believed. Perhaps Loki was always destined to fall under the illness. Perhaps there was never anything that could be done. When did I lose my Little Brother? Why didn't I notice? Thor put the old memories, with their old hate, aside. He took a breath to clear out the ache that the hate always brought with it.

In the years since Loki's second death, in the collapsed theater, Thor gave more and more thought to his Little Brother's strange behavior. There were signs of illness before Loki fell to madness. There were signs that became clear when he looked back on them. At the time he hadn't noticed them, hadn't noticed that his brother needed aid. The guilt of it still ate at him. It always would. He would always wonder if he might have saved Loki if he'd acted sooner. His Little Brother pulled away from him as his personality darkened over the years. Loki's smile became less real, less warm with every passing year. He hadn't liked it but hadn't thought he should do anything about it either. There were strange trips, and even stranger disappearances. Blood was thrown into the mix with the bizarre accident with the kolkrabbr. His Little Brother was a strong climber, he shouldn't have slipped from the cliff. Thor still had no idea how Loki fell into the lake. All he knew was that death tried to chase after. When he dragged Loki's bloodied body from the water he felt true terror for the first time in hundreds of years. However, it was his Uncle Frey's vicious wrath, aimed at Loki for this simple accident, which made it stand out in his mind. His uncle even went so far as to throw the healers from Loki's room. Not even the Elder Heal Mistress was allowed to stay. Thor knew his Uncle Frey was better trained in Healing Magics than most palace healers. He still didn't understand why his uncle wouldn't want the assistance of the Heal Mistresses and Heal Meisters. The strangeness of it led him to believe that his brother was truly unwell again. Thor had believed him recovered from this as well. Then Loki went missing for years, only to return with wild tales of the rise of Jotunheim. The Jotunns were put down more than a millennium ago. Who did Loki hope to fool? Thor still didn't know.

Even Thor's ruined coronation hadn't alerted him to anything being amiss with his Little Brother. It was only at the breaking of the Bifrost where he could no longer ignore that something was very wrong with his Little Brother. Following their fight on the Bifrost, Thor believed Loki dead. He still had nightmares of his Little Brother falling. In his dreams, Thor would reach for Loki, but Loki would always slip away. Then he would wake screaming for Loki to come back. He knew others must have heard his cries but were too polite to say anything. Again, the guilt gnawed at him.

He laughed when Loki tried to fool their father into thinking that the Jotunns were making for war again. Laughed, and told Loki to remember his place. Thor felt the ever-present guilt twist in him again. If he'd taken his Little Brother to the healing rooms that day, would he still have him? If he'd been less arrogant, seen that his Little Brother was slipping into madness, could he have stopped it? I could have saved Loki, he thought. I should have saved him. I'm so sorry Little Brother. I'm sorry that I didn't see that you needed me.

In the months after the ruined coronation Thor was plagued with a bitter anger towards his Little Brother. He heard the rumors, that Loki was jealous of him, that Loki wanted the throne. He hadn't believed any of them before the coronation. It was Loki's quiet assurances, "You'll be a great King," and, "Don't worry, you aren't alone, Thor," and, "You look like a Lord," and many more that kept him to standing straight and keep his chin up. Post-coronation, the events of Midgard and the breaking of the Bifrost Thor gave in to the rumors. A vicious anger clouded his mind taking over his thoughts.

So great was his anger that it darkened the skies of Asgard, and nearly flooded several of the lower lying provinces. It started as a few storms here and there. It ended with a miles long lightning storm that rolled over Asgard as his wrath incarnate. That was when his parents took him aside to tell him the truth. Loki wasn't his brother by blood. He was Jotunn by blood and had to have found this out when Thor took him to Jotunheim. It was this discovery that drove Loki to madness. He wasn't sure of it but trusted his parents. Within an hour the violent storms dissolved into a constant light drizzle. His mother told him many times that it wasn't his fault, Loki was just too sensitive. He wasn't able to handle the truth. His father told him this as well. Loki's position was Little Brother though. Thor's was Elder Brother. It was his duty to protect his Little Brother and he failed.

It was too late as Thor knew well. Loki was fully lost to the madness. Even if it was true, if Loki was still alive, there was nothing left of his brother. The Loki he knew died on the Bifrost. All that was left was an angry wraith wearing his Little Brother's face. One way or another he had to put that wraith to rest. Thor glanced over at his mother then looked away quickly. The hope on her face was too much to look at. The news of Loki's crimes came to her from him as did the news of Loki's supposed second death. She collapsed in his arms, holding tight to him and weeping. It wasn't as terrible as the first time they thought Loki dead. Following Loki's fall from the Bifrost his mother spent weeks locked away in her private chambers. She sat at her loom weaving, scrying again and again. He still grimaced when he thought of how she cried when she could find nothing of his Little Brother. Even their Uncle Frey went looking for Loki and came home empty handed. "He is truly gone," his mother said as she wept. Thor understood how she felt. He often wondered what his father thought, what he felt. All his father's thoughts and feelings were locked behind a stoic expression which he often thought that his father wore as a mask. Since Thor had no such impenetrable mask he often envied his father. Without cover, everything showed on his face.

When he first believed Loki dead, the anger and despair of it showed. On the heels of Thor learning of Loki's reappearance on Midgard, hope and trepidation played across his features. As he looked on the blood and pieces of bone in the theater and thought Loki dead again, all of his utter misery was apparent. After he carried his brother's crushed and torn helmet home he fashioned his own mask. He smiled and laughed, pretended that all was right with him. What did it matter if the smile never reached his eyes? No one need know how he truly felt. The smile couldn't be mustered at that moment. Loki was alive, would Loki die again? How many more times was he going to lose his Little Brother? No, Thor reminded himself, it's not Loki anymore. It's not my Loki anymore. My Loki is gone. I'm sorry, Loki.

A sudden thumping on the table brought Thor out of his darkening thoughts. Sif and the Warriors Three were looking at him. They knew what he was thinking about, who he was thinking about. Even if they didn't know the details, they knew the look. It was a look Thor had worn many times over the recent years. There was another thump on the table, and Thor looked over at his mortal companions to find them arguing.

"It doesn't matter if Stark is under Loki's control or not, right now he's a threat, and will be treated as such, as will Colonel Rhodes" Director Fury was saying with a stern voice.

"It doesn't matter? How can you say that? They're being held prisoner! It's not their fault!" Pepper was arguing back.

"Enough!" Frey's voice shook the room. "If you cannot be silent, then I will silence you. My patience is growing thin." He turned towards the boy to his left, "Begin again, Truthkeeper." Fuck me! Frey almost smirked at Anthony's favorite phrase passing through his thoughts.

"Yes, sir." McCorrmick unpaused the first file. You're all wrong. None of you know who's your friend or enemy. I'm sorry, emmika. I'm not allowed to tell you. His silence didn't help them. All he could hope was that it was helping him.

As the recording began again Frey wondered what argument was so bad that Anthony would lose control of his seidr and genuinely want to do harm to Thor. Even arguing about family didn't cause him to lose control of himself so violently. Anthony yelled and swore or went somewhere away from others to set things on fire or explode them. Sometimes Frey thought that Loki was teaching him swears learned from Brokkr. He wouldn't be surprised by that. The scorch marks, the melted stone and glass, it all spoke of a sudden loss of control. Anthony's temper was volatile. It'd been that way since the day they met, even before that. His temper had grown radically more unstable in the last year as he suddenly came into his power. Frey suspected that Loki had a more active hand in it then she liked to admit to as the increase in Anthony's abilities came at an unnaturally swift pace. He was glad that he and Anthony were on much better footing presently. Frey knew that their first meeting would have gone much differently if Anthony held the power then that he did now. He grimaced as he remembered that first 'talk'. They were both fools on that day. Frey would wait and watch. Hopefully, he would find an answer.