Hello again! It's been a while. We're all hiding from the coronavirus over here, so I figured this is a good time to finally get some writing done. Hope you like the new chapter, and give a shout if you want more! Stay healthy and stay safe, everyone!

Loki didn't want the visit to end, but after several hours it was time for Frigga to return to the palace and join her husband for dinner. Loki could smell the savory aromas of roasting meat and spiced fruits, and it made his stomach clench painfully. Frigga noticed his discomfort, and before they parted ways she instructed the Jotunn girl to go to the infirmary and obtain some nutrient-infused spring water for him. The blue-skinned creature nodded and slipped away as Loki leaned into his mother's parting embrace, wishing he could return it. He wanted to ask her if they could visit again soon, even though it made him feel like a needy child. He inwardly breathed in relief when she ordered the guards to escort him back to his room through the lower levels of the palace. Frigga gently kissed his cheek and Loki winced as she pulled away and gave him a familiar sad smile. "I'll see you again, my son."

Loki watched her walk away up the hedge-lined path and depart through the main gate. He was suddenly aware of how alone he was, surrounded by a contingent of unfriendly guards who hardly counted as company. He was held in place as the collar was re-attached and its chain pulled taut, forcing him to stagger along behind the guards as they led him through the lower levels, back to his prison. As they drew up to the doors of his chambers, Loki blinked in surprise as several palace servants briskly exited and took their leave down the corridor. Of course, Odin had probably sent them while he was away to make sure he didn't have any forbidden items in his rooms. Loki set his jaw and shuffled slowly through the doorway, wondering when he would next be able to leave. He expected the guards to remove his shackles once they were inside, but instead they simply shoved him onto the bed and left, ignoring his muffled protests. The god of mischief lay still, straining to breathe even though the chain around his waist made every breath painful. He closed his eyes and finally allowed himself to process the terror he'd felt when he was on his knees with the crowd closing in around him. It wasn't right for a prince to be afraid of his subjects. It was shameful, demeaning. Just one more weakness for Odin to use against him. Loki crushed his teeth together and growled.

He felt slightly better when he heard the door slide open to admit a hushed patter of bare feet. The bed creaked as the Jotunn girl climbed onto the headboard. He peered over to see her staring down at him, holding a large cask of spring water from the infirmary. "Would you like me to help you out of those chains, my prince?" He nodded emphatically and was surprised when she reached into her pocket and produced a large ring of keys. She placed the cask of water on the bedside table and crept closer to him. "I swiped these on the way to the gardens." She twirled the key ring around a long blue finger and stared at Loki cautiously. "May I touch you?"

He thought for a moment and decided that he wanted the chains off badly enough to allow it. Nodding, he grimaced as she wrapped her cold arms around his shoulders and maneuvered him to lean against the headboard. She handled him like she was holding something breakable. Loki didn't understand this treatment, but at least it was better than being mangled and bruised. He held still as she swiftly unlocked each restraint and dragged the chains off his body. He could feel the rawness of his wrists and ribs and ankles. Finally free, he moved each limb carefully and settled into a more comfortable posture. The girl poured a glass of spring water and offered it to him, along with the reed from his bedside table. He drank slowly and felt his gnawing hunger begin to ebb away. He was suddenly aware of how exhausted he was. How quiet it was in his chambers. Slowly, he allowed his body to slump sideways against the headboard as his eyelids fluttered closed. The last thing he recalled was the feeling of someone sliding a soft pillow under his head.

Loki awoke to a sound like cannon fire, sending a panicked jolt through his unwary nerves. He scrambled upright, glancing about wildly until his eyes settled on a red and gold figure standing in the doorway. A few bleary blinks later and the image of Thor swam into focus, grinning obliviously as if it were totally normal to enter someone's room by nearly breaking down the door. Loki's first thought was to throw something at him, but before he could move Thor had strode over to his bedside and sat down with a frame-shaking thump. "Hello, brother! I have just returned from a hunting expedition in the mountains, and I heard a rumor of your visit with mother!"

Loki blinked at him, trying to clear the disoriented haze around the edges of his mind. How long had he been asleep? What day was it? Deciding that it didn't matter, he tossed his head and gave his brother a defiant stare. Thor had the decency to look slightly abashed. "Come now, brother, don't look at me like that. You know it was never my intention to separate you from mother. I was only concerned about the emotional toll it would take on her to see you in such a….state." Thor eyed him uncomfortably for a moment before reverting back to his usual grin and clapping him on the back, causing Loki to suppress a muffled groan. "But you seem much better now! I heard that you and mother spent time in her gardens, just as you always used to. She looked to be in good spirits when I spoke with her an hour ago."

Settling back against the headboard, Loki glanced toward the open window and pulled slightly at his stitches. Thor watched him earnestly for several moments before scooting closer. "Come on, brother," he implored, holding out a large hand. "Talk to me."

Loki eyed him warily before allowing himself to take the hand and move his opposite finger across Thor's wide, rough palm, tracing letters. I want to visit her again soon.

Thor nodded easily. "I will speak with our parents about it. Provided your condition continues to improve, I don't see why father would object."

Loki's hand tightened around Thor's wrist as he pressed the next words hard into his flesh. He's not my father.

"Loki…."

He doesn't care for me. He hasn't come to see me once since he did this to me. Loki stabbed a finger toward his sewn mouth and looked away across the room. I'm not his son. I'm not even of the Aesir line, and it was cruel of him to make me think I was. I'm just a charity case he probably regrets taking in.

"Come now, Loki," Thor argued sternly. "You know why he kept your true heritage a secret. What chance would you have had for a happy childhood here in Asgard if it were known?"

And what chance do I have at a decent life now that it is known? Loki turned to glare directly into Thor's eyes. The Aesir will never accept me as their prince. They loathe me. I've seen it. Nothing makes them happier than to watch me suffer in humiliation.

Thor stood up and paced toward the open window. He placed his large hands on the sill and stared outward with a look of concentration rarely seen on his face. After a long silence, he turned to Loki and asked quietly, "Is that why you wanted to rule Midgard instead?"

Loki blinked in surprise and drew his shoulders into a stiff line. He hadn't expected the question. He wasn't even sure he had an answer. He stood and joined his brother at the window, taking his hand and tracing his reply slowly as the words came to him. I am a god. I deserve to be treated like one, as you are. Not like a monster.

Thor sighed and squeezed his hand firmly. "You're not a monster, brother. But you did monstrous things to that realm. You killed their people and destroyed their cities. A ruler who causes such misery is not fit to rule."

Loki's eyes flared intensely. And how many people do you think Odin has killed as a means of maintaining power over this realm? How many-

"Our father brings down justice upon those who threaten him!" Thor snapped, jerking his hand away in the middle of Loki's sentence. "Not civilians. Not innocents. It's not the same."

Loki gestured aggressively and after a moment Thor grudgingly held out his hand again. Anger coursed through his body like a spreading fire. Do you honestly believe Odin has never killed an innocent?

Thor curled his hand into a fist, then let it drop as a sudden weariness overtook his usually-bright eyes. "Let's not fight, brother. I came here to tell you how glad I am that your visit with mother went well. I did not mean to upset you."

Loki pulled instinctively at his stitches and gazed at the floor. After a moment, he nodded curtly to signify the conversation was over. At that moment, a brief rustling caused them to turn and observe the Jotunn girl entering the room, her hair and tunic rumpled. Loki figured she had probably been sleeping in the linen closet again. What an odd creature.

She smiled when she saw Thor and Loki found himself wondering what exactly their history was that had led to him bringing her here to work in the palace. He knew his brother traveled often throughout the realms as part of his royal duties, but what reason could he possibly have to go to Jotunheim, especially after what had happened there last time? It was all very unusual, and Loki decided he wanted answers. Before he could reach for his brother's hand, however, Thor was towering over the Jotunn girl and enthusiastically telling her about the latest ships to arrive in Asgard's spaceport, bearing goods from other worlds. Loki reclined against the windowsill and listened half-interestedly to their discussion of prices and products. She was particularly curious about a ship that had apparently conducted some covert trade with Midgard. Perhaps she wanted more creation stories.

The visit was interrupted by a harried servant who poked his head in the doorway to inform Thor he was needed in the throne room. This annoyed Loki, but he was kept silent as his brother hastily bid him farewell and exited the room as loudly as he'd entered. The Jotunn girl inquired if he needed anything, and Loki glanced briefly at her bluish hands before shaking his head and retreating to his sitting room to amuse himself with the few books he'd been given. Perhaps he could secure permission to visit the library before his brain atrophied from lack of stimulation.

That night, Loki dreamt he was resting on his bed when he suddenly felt the density of his body increase, as through gravity was crushing him with the weight of a stone pillar. The room lurched sickeningly and he found himself being forced down through his mattress onto the cold floor below. Loki struggled desperately, bracing himself for impact, but it never came. He opened his eyes to find total blackness around him in every direction. The sensation of falling permeated his body. He couldn't move. He couldn't scream. And then, from nowhere, a withered hand clawing at the side of his face. A voice he never wanted to hear again pooling in his ear. He will make you long for something sweet as pain….

Loki awoke with a crash and found himself heaving on the floor in darkness. The enchanted thread binding his lips burned like molten silver, intensifying his need to scream until he couldn't bear its torment. He clawed wildly at his face, fingers shaking, throat seared with fire. Please let it stop. Let it stop. Please. Just as he began to choke on the air stuttering in his throat, he felt a pair of hands seize his shoulders and roll him onto his back. Not sure if these hands meant safety or danger, Loki nevertheless grasped at them, preferring any contact to the doomed isolation of the void. His vision flickered wildly and it took a while for his eyes to detect the lamp hovering above him, illuminating the bluish face of its holder. Loki shuddered and tried to roll away, but the floor spun dangerously and he thought better of it. Icy fingers settled on his throat, cooling the burning agony of asphyxiation until he could breathe again. She was talking to him in that low, dark voice, and her words swam in and out of his consciousness. "My prince….all right….lie still and….just a dream…."

Loki groaned and pressed his hands over his face, feeling wet gouge marks where his nails had torn the flesh. His fingers came away bloody, and he heard the Jotunn girl hiss softly. She braced her arms beneath him and practically lifted him to his feet. "You are injured, my prince. Please wait here safely while I get the healing salve."

Loki balked instinctively when he realized she was leading him back to his bed. Perhaps it was the dream, or perhaps the memory of so many anguished hours spent chained to the damn thing, but it was the last place he wanted to be right now. His sudden retreat nearly caused him to fall again. The girl seized him by the arms and hauled him upright. "All right, calm down! Not the bed, then. Would my prince be amenable to resting on the sofa instead?"

Nodding dazedly, Loki allowed her to guide him into the next room and settle him on the sofa. His head was foggy and he swore he could still feel the bruises from The Other's fingers on his face. The girl left his side and he struggled to orient himself upon the cushions. She returned carrying a bowl of water, a cloth, and a tin of healing salve. She set these upon the table and proceeded to arrange the pillows on the sofa's arm to create a gentle slope. Loki was too dizzy to resist as she carefully eased him back to lie on the raised incline, then glided over to sit beside him on the ottoman. He barely reacted to the press of a wet cloth against his face until a slight sting made him wince. "Hold still. It's purified water. It'll cleanse your wounds."

Loki tried to slow his breathing as she moved the cool cloth across his face. He felt lost inside this feverish haze. His lips had not stung this badly since they had first been stitched shut. Was that really just a nightmare? Loki had had plenty of those since he's been tossed into this prison, but they had never resulted in so much physical pain. He started as the girl's cold fingers touched his face, massaging the healing salve into the newly cleansed gashes on his cheekbone. She repeated the action on the other side of his face and he stared up at her dazedly as the wounds began to seal. In the darkness her grey eyes seemed black, shuttered from any emotion. He wondered what she was thinking about him as he lay below her, too weak to rise. At any other time he would have expected scorn, derision, a kind of savage mockery. Now….?

She stood as he felt the last of his wounds seal over, capping the healing salve and returning the cloth to the basin. "You'll be all right now. Stay here and get some rest." Then she retreated into the darkness as soundlessly as a ghost in the night. Before he could even process the movement, his hand had latched onto the fabric of her tunic with a strength he didn't know he possessed. She stumbled as he pulled her back over to the ottoman, blinking owlishly down at him. "Yes, my prince? Do you need something more?"

He stared at her wearily, not sure he had the words to express what he wanted even if he could speak. His eyes wandered over her thin frame and settled on her bluish hands as they clutched the water basin. After a long moment of internal struggle, Loki reached out and pried one of her hands away, pulling it toward him with fingers splayed and palm open. Its delicate feel reminded him of a bluebell from his mother's garden. He could see his own hand begin to flush that same color, but he did not let go. Carefully, with full attention to his task, he traced a series of letters into her palm.

s t a y

When he looked into her face again, her eyes had changed. He wasn't sure how, exactly, but the blackness around her pupils seemed less like an endless cavern and more like the iridescent stone which lived in caverns beneath the earth. Like obsidian. Loki blinked, roused from his thoughts as cold fingers around his hand squeezed gently. The girl settled herself back on the ottoman, saying nothing, for which Loki was grateful. Somehow, that one little word had completely exhausted his ability to communicate. He closed his eyes, cradling her frigid hand to his chest. In darkness, its touch reminded him that he was not alone. He did not dream anymore that night. Sleep passed over him like moonlight, bringing the sensation of a cool, fragile glow upon his skin.