Lucidh: Thanks for reading. Yes, there is a budding friendship going on here. Natasha is more than his match. I am sure they will get in a lot of trouble before this journey is over.

Guest: Thanks for reading. I do enjoy the Blackfrost pairing.

Trigger warnings: attempted suicide, mention of miscarriage

Chapter 2

Loki stirred in his sleep, greeted by the warmth and familiarity of a large bed draped in emerald and gold – his quarters, not his cell in Asgard's dungeons. Vestiges of powerful magic not his own still swirled through his body, but his own magic was sluggish, distant slipping through his fingers. The void… was this an illusion … was he a prisoner in his own mind again? Panic clawed at his chest and he tried to sit up only to struggle against unseen bindings. The god snarled like a trapped beast, breathing ragged as he tried in vain to sit up again.

"Don't struggle, Loki, you will only open your wounds."

The voice was soft and familiar, but held definite authority - Odin. Though he wanted to howl in rage at the indignity of being bound and helpless, he hadn't the energy to struggle anymore.

"What have you done to my magic?" the prince asked.

"It is there, just muted by that which saved your life." Sliding his eyes shut, Loki calmed himself and searched for it again, reveling in the comfort and warmth when he found it singing through his veins. "I am not so cruel as to sever you from it."

"Why am I bound?"

"You know the answer to that," Odin said gently. "I found you lying in a pool of your own blood. Had Heimdall not alerted me … had I not found you in time … we would have lost you again."

"Maybe that's what I wanted …"

"To make your mother suffer?"

"Her suffering would be far less had you allowed me the mercy of success," Loki replied bitterly. "She could mourn and be done with it."

"You are still not yourself, Son," Odin said with a sad smile.

"I thought we had established that I am not your son," Loki spat out in disgust.

Odin pulled his chair closer to Loki's bedside and reached out to rest his hand on Loki's shoulder. "It is time we had the long overdue discussion we should have had in the vault had the Odinsleep not overtaken me."

"Fine, it is not as though I can leave," Loki sulked as he had when much younger. "Say what you must."

"It is true … I first took you as a war weary king, believing perhaps I could one day secure the throne of Jotunheim by returning a stolen prince to sit on it if needed to keep the peace."

Loki felt his chest tighten, anxiety churning in his gut as he listened to his fear – the fear that had driven him to nearly destroy a realm – confirmed. So lost in his thoughts, he almost missed Odin say, "I did not lie to you when I said that those plans no longer matter."

Loki glanced up at Odin, jaw still clenched, willing him to continue with a simple nod.

"You were so small, weak from your abandonment, and hungry. But you knew the power of your voice even at that young age. I will never forget the sound of your cries and how they pierced straight through me." Odin smiled fondly. "Not knowing much about Jotun infants, I was concerned you might not even survive the trip through the Bifrost. One thing was certain. You needed immediate care and I called upon Frigga – she was the only one I could trust - until I decided what to do with you. Her pregnancy with Thor had been difficult, and the healers told me that he would likely be our only child. We were delighted when we found out she had conceived again, but with the strain of the war, it was not meant to be." Odin paused, the pain of the loss still evident even after centuries. "You were a balm to her grieving soul. She loved you fiercely from the moment I placed you in her arms, and I would have been blind to not see that you two were meant to be. Her love and joy were contagious, and from that moment, I have only seen you as my son."

"You have a peculiar way of showing it," Loki replied bitterly, fighting against the ache in his chest. As much as he tried to deny it, he had always known his mother loved him deeply. "You have always been harder on me. I have never felt like I had your approval."

"In retrospect, that was a failure on my part," Odin admitted. "Perhaps it is because I knew your burden will be heavier when I am gone and Thor rules Asgard."

"Why raise me to be a king – think like one, act like one – knowing it will never be?"

Odin sighed deeply. "Thor is my firstborn. You have always known the throne would be his – and not because you are adopted. Even if you were my biological son, the throne would still fall to him. But, I equally know that Thor will never successfully rule Asgard without you at his side. You were both raised to be kings, because you will need each other."

"So, my destiny truly is to live in Thor's shadow and save him from himself?" Loki murmured dryly.

"Thor has grown up, but he will never be the diplomat you are. There are situations in ruling that require a certain amount of …"

"Dishonesty?" Loki chuckled mirthlessly. "You condemn it yet desire it in me at the same time."

"I was going to say compromise. Thor sees things in black and white. You have a gift for walking the boundary between the two," Odin said softly. "But, that is not my concern now. You doubt our love, but then so blatantly test it. I do not think you intended to take your life."

"The wounds and blood loss say otherwise …"

"Loki, you are a master of magic and blades," Odin rebutted gently. "Had you wanted to end it quickly, before anyone could arrive, you would have."

Oh how he wanted to deny it, but relief and warmth washed over Loki, flooding his very soul. It was Odin sitting by his bedside when he woke. Only Odin would have been able to get to him in time, and he had chosen to save him. That fact alone made him ready to live again.

"It is not the first time you have called for my attention, I think." Odin leveled him with a stern gaze. "I watched events on Midgard very closely. If my younger son had truly set out to conquer Midgard, he would have taken his time, used guile and stratagem, and he would have succeeded."

"That was different," Loki murmured, knowing that what he said next would demand a response, a story he was not ready to tell, especially if Odin was the audience. "I invaded Midgard, yes, but I was not entirely in mastery of myself." Leave it there; make Odin draw it from him. Would he make the effort to find the truth?

"I do not expect your trust or honesty right now, but I must know what has happened to bring us to this point so that we can move on from here. My instinct tells me you have paid for any crimes in full, and then some, but only your memories will tell me." Loki felt his heart speed up, threatening to jump out of his chest. He had not considered this possibility – that Odin would drag it from him, that all would be laid bare before the one he had grown up calling father. "It is easier if you consent … I will have your mother do it."

"No," Loki said hurriedly. This was simpler, get it over. Odin would have to believe him. There was no way for memories to lie. "You do it. There are some things a mother should never see."

"And what about a father?"

"I would spare you if I could … Father," Loki whispered, aware that at some point a tear had begun to cut a path down his face. Another followed, and how he hated it. Damn sentiment. "But, there are some things a king must see."

"Very well," Odin said as he reached and gently wiped the tears from Loki's cheek, releasing the magical bindings that held his son. "Relax and attempt to not fight me."

Loki reached up weakly and stilled his hands. "I warn you – you will find no comfort in what you see." He allowed Odin to rest his hand on his forehead.

"No, I don't expect I will," Odin murmured, looking every one of his centuries. "But this is what healing requires."

Loki closed his eyes and attempted to relax magic that was already stirring to defend against Odin's invasion into his mind.

Loki lifted his eyelids, frustrated by the betraying moisture in his eyes. The moment was in the past, but the emotion was raw and every bit as real as when he had lived it the first time mere months ago. Memories had flowed from son to father, spilling out a story of tragedy, angst and pain - nearly breaking the Allfather. It was as Loki had told Natasha, when he let go of Gungnir, he had meant to die, but instead had found that there are things worse than death.

His gaze drifted to the armchair where he was surprised to find Natasha Romanoff sound asleep. The god took a moment to observe her, never before having seen her so unguarded … so at peace. There was no denying she was a beautiful woman, her fury of red hair contrasting with the paleness of her skin. Perhaps if they had met under different circumstances he would have pursued her, his match in guile and cunning. Together, they would be quite the formidable force. In all his centuries, never before had a woman so completely captivated him. Of course, he hid it behind masks and walls. Loki sighed. It would be entirely improper to sit here and watch her for the remainder of the night, even if in appreciation. His mother would be appalled. He stood from the sofa, swaying slightly on his feet and grimaced at the ache that began to form in his head. His eyes fell to the empty wine bottle on the floor and its twin on the table. When had he opened a second? By the Norns, he had allowed himself to get drunk – not for the first time, hardly, but it had been some time since he had last overindulged.

Slowly making his way to the armchair, he gently shook Natasha by the shoulder, bracing in case he startled her and found a knife at his throat. "Agent Romanoff?" She let out a sigh, only shifting slightly in the chair.

She couldn't stay in the chair. Her head was bent to the side at an awkward angle which meant she would have quite the crick in her neck when she woke if her left her there. He tried shaking her again.

"Natasha?"

She mumbled something incoherent and sloppily pushed at his arm. Lovely … he had managed to intoxicate her as well. The proper thing to do would be to return her to her own quarters so she could sleep it off in comfort. However, there was no way he was walking through Stark's tower carrying her. Another wave of dizziness washed over him – teleporting was definitely out of the question. There was no telling where they might end up. Carefully lifting Natasha out of the chair, he shuffled down the hallway, stopping only once to press his back against the wall and steady himself. Once in his room, he laid her down on the bed before quickly pulling a blanket from the foot of the bed and spreading it over her.

Loki stopped at the closet in the adjoining room, rummaging through his potion making supplies until he found what he needed, glad he usually had it on hand for Thor. Returning to the kitchen, he put a kettle on to boil and poured some of the herbal mixture into a mug and waited for the kettle to steam before pouring hot water over the top. As he stirred, he touched a hand to the mug whispering a spell. Finally, he slowly sipped the potion, already feeling his mind begin to clear and the beginnings of his massive headache ebb away.

Sitting back down on the sofa, he slowly considered his evening as he continued to sip at the potion. What had he done? Told the Black Widow everything, that's what, and that was only what he remembered before his memories became fuzzy. He had not drunk that heavily since before Thor's coronation and the wine had gone straight to his head, he decided, loosening his tongue. He distinctly remembered feeling completely comfortable in her presence, as though he was seeing just a glimpse beneath her many masks for the first time. What was it about this mortal woman that made him trust her so when everything he knew about her screamed that he not? He had no answer for that.

Well, sleep was not going to come again tonight, not after two very remarkable and emotional dreams. He needed something to occupy his mind and draw it away from the churning in his gut that made him wonder where he stood with SHIELD after his confessions. His glance drifted to the case, abandoned by the side of the armchair, the reason Natasha had visited him in the first place. Deciding that Fury had wanted him to look at the object anyhow, he opened the case. It was a small pillar, not even the length of his forearm, made from a type of polished stone which glistened in even the dim lighting. There was a modest magical signature coming from the object, but nothing on par with Mjolnir or Gungnir, possibly more like the bracelets he wore around his wrists. The signature was incomplete, only part of a whole. The object yearned to be made complete and reached out toward his own magic.

Frigga had taught him a long time ago to take care with magical artifacts. He gathered his magic at his fingertips and made a barrier, a shield between him and the artifact before reaching into the case and removing the object. Expanding the magical shield, he placed the pillar on the floor and stepped around it, carefully surveying how it reacted to his presence. Curious, it no longer seemed interested in him, and its magical call seemed to extend past him now, streaming around him like a log in a river.

"You are unfamiliar to me as well. Our magic is different," he murmured to the object. "You are not of Yggdrasil, then?"

There were symbols – possibly runes, but none he had ever seen before – carved neatly into the stone. If he had a frame of reference for the symbols …

"JARVIS?" Though he had not utilized Stark's watchman, he understood that it was a source of indeterminate information.

"Yes, Mr. Odinson."

"I am still uncertain of how exactly Midgardian technology works, and I could use your assistance," the mage said. "I need information in order to study the origin of these symbols."

"I am able to capture images of the symbols and cross reference them with known languages of Earth."

"How long would that take?" Loki asked.

"I have completed my search," the AI announced.

"That is wonderful," Loki replied, delighted in the efficiency of Stark's creation.

"There is a tablet sitting next to the armchair. I will make certain that all relevant files are transferred."

Loki had seen the flat device there from the moment he had moved in, but had not paid it any attention. Gently, he picked the device up and touched the top. It lit up and he saw a page of information on Sino-Tibetan languages.

"Swipe your finger across the screen to see the next source."

"Thank you, JARVIS," Loki replied, sinking down on the armchair as he began to immerse himself into the information gathered.

"Is there anything else I can do for you?"

"No, not at the moment," Loki murmured, already infatuated with the pursuit of new knowledge and unfamiliar magic. "This is more than sufficient."