Sorry that updates have been lagging as of late! In the never-ending battle of quantity vs. quality, quality wins every time. In my book, at least (again, no pun intended).

I seriously cannot express how much the reviews and follows mean to me. You are all absolutely amazing.

/

"It happened three days ago." Odin's voice sounded tired. Despondent. "And we have absolutely no idea what it was. Not a single man in my company heard a thing."

"How did he die?" Frigga's voice, hushed and saddened. Loki pressed himself flat against the outer walls of the throne room, holding his breath. Why his parents chose to converse the matter with the main doors cracked open was beyond him, but it gave him the immediate advantage for eavesdropping. Down the main corridor he could hear the grim reports of his father's men as well, their voices echoing eerily in the background. The whole palace was in a tizzy, it seemed.

"We do not know." There was a silence so thick, Loki was certain his parents could hear the pounding of his heart from outside the room. "Frigga, I do not understand any of it. We found him in the morning, lying face-down in the dirt, just outside the perimeter of our camp. There were no apparent injuries on the body, no signs of a struggle. It looked only like he had the very essence of his life sucked out of him. His eyes, Frigga. If you could have seen his eyes..."

"He will be given the proper burial rites," the queen proclaimed. "And swiftly too. Oh, but this is dreadful. Odin...his family will be distraught."

"I sent an officer to them as soon as we entered the city limits. Duatr died with honor in the service of his king. He will be acknowledged as such."

"And what of our son?" The air left Loki's lungs in a heavy whoosh of breath; truthfully, he cared not at all for the dead guardsman. Since the moment father had returned with the body, coils of terror had wrapped firmly about his heart, refusing to relent due to the mysterious nature of the thing. He had wanted to scream when Odin had said nothing to him, and had only beckoned his wife to follow him for private discourse. I worry as well! he had wanted to shout - but instead had snuck away in their stead, justifying his decision under the influence of the terror still curled angrily in his chest.

The lack of anything regarding Thor's fate was enough to make him sick again, but the delay of the report made him want to destroy something.

"My heart is heavy with despair." Father's voice dipped to a broken whisper, but the vastness of the great hall echoed his words clear as day. Loki stilled. "We scoured the forest without rest, every single day. We circled it in its entirety, searching every crevice, every valley, every river. We found nothing. Nothing at all."

"Nothing?" Frigga's tone, thick with hurt and anguish, echoed the sinking feeling in his gut. Loki slumped to the floor, wrapping his arms around his knees as tears pooled again. Had he truly allowed himself to hope for anything different?

Yes. Because it was father looking this time and that was to make all the difference.

"Nothing. I sense foul misconduct, my queen. There is something evil in that forest." Loki barely heard his father's reply; there was a sudden roaring in his ears that drowned out any cohesive thought. "Something has taken our son, Frigga. But Thor is alive. Of that I am certain."

Loki snapped back to attention.

"What do you mean, something has our son?" His mother cried. There was silence again, and Loki pictured his father slowly shaking his head in reply. "I cannot bear it, husband! If your weeks in the woods gave you any indication as to Thor's fate, I beg of you, do not keep it from me. And do not keep it from Loki. He blames himself and has withered away to almost nothing. Spare us, Odin. Even if you are uncertain or fear it will cause us harm." Another pause. "Oh, but I can see it in your eyes - what did you find in the woods?"

"The place is enchanted with some ancient seidr." Loki's hands pressed into the floor, his entire body taut in anticipation. "I could sense it, I could touch it with my own. But it is one that I have not encountered before; it is sinister, dark, destructive. We had no mage with us who could sense it as I did; the men were oblivious. Much as I imagine they all were in the initial journey, save perhaps Loki. Already his grasp of the arts are well above and beyond any other his age, but especially more so than the soldiers who do not wield it."

"Are you saying..." Frigga's voice trailed off. That damnable hope sprang forth once more, singing for release from the dark place he had smothered it. Odin sighed.

"I am saying that whatever beast lurks in the shadows is a creation, if not the full manifestation, of some deep and powerful magic. It cares not for swords and arrows and so perceives no threat when an entire legion of soldiers treks into its territory. But if one who wields powerful magic crosses its path, it senses it like a wild dog does the scent of a rabbit. I am fully learned in my ability; our second son is not. By allowing him and Thor to traverse to the heart of the forest, his own seidr not only drew the beast right to them, but invited an attack. They were as lambs to the slaughter." Frigga cried out in horror as Loki slammed a hand over his own mouth to stop his own startled holler. Tears slipped silently as his heart folded in on itself; here was yet another sin he could add to the tally, his magic, his magic had put Thor in harm's way. "It is only that I do not know why Thor was of interest and Loki, with all of his magic, was not. Loki spoke of his remaining unconscious by the riverside; perhaps this beast thought him dead. I do not know, nor do I know where our son may be. Those woods, they..." His voice trailed off as Frigga choked back a sob.

"He will blame himself," she said and it took Loki a moment to realize she was talking about him. "Oh, Odin..."

"Do not cry, my queen." Never before had Loki ever been on the receiving end of so gentle a tone from his father. It sounded almost unnatural, coming from his mouth. "It is not his fault. It is my own. If I had but waited for more information or gone to investigate myself, I would have learned of this magic and never allowed them to leave. It is not the boy's fault. It is mine, it is mine, it is mine..."

"Oh, my husband." His mother's voice sounded devastated, and the sound of it tore his heart asunder. "You will tell him this, will you not? He already believes you hate him and has denied all comforts. Oh Odin, please tell him!"

"I already have," Odin said. "Loki." Loki froze. He understood somehow that the sound of his name was directed at him and not at his mother, before the incriminating remark was even spoken: "Come out from the shadows, boy. You know I care not for hiding." He lingered for one beat more, savoring his final moment of solitude, hastily wiping the tears from his face. And then he stood, walking stiffly through the doors to the throne room, wondering if ever he would be as perceptive as his father.

Despite knowing that the two of them were in there, the actual sight of them caused his steps to falter. Both were facing the doorway, fully expecting his entry; Frigga with her hands clasped in front of her body, Odin standing tall with Gungnir steadfast in his grasp. Their eyes remained on him as he entered and he couldn't shake the feelings he usually bore when he was headed towards a reprimand. Is that what was coming? He could not find the presence of mind to care much. That was not important. None of it was.

None else mattered save his father's assurance that Thor still lived.

"My son." Odin's voice was deep and pensive, and were Loki more prone to sentimental notions, he might even assume somewhat remorseful. "Look at me." Loki obeyed reluctantly and could not help but flinch at the scrutiny in his father's gaze. "You look worse for wear since last I saw you." He remained silent, unsure if the observation warranted a response. Odin's expression did not change. "Are you well?"

"I am in perfect health," he said smoothly, lacing his fingers together behind his back. Though outwardly composed, he felt antsy and impatient; if there was to be a reprimand then get on with it, if not, tell me what you know of the beast!

"Why did you feel the need to spy on us, despite the warnings you have received countless times over?" Loki's shoulders pulled back in surprise - he honestly had not been expecting so forward a question considering the context of the one that had preceded it. He cleared his throat and refused to look away.

"It was made clear my direct involvement in this matter was not acceptable," he said, watching for a reaction in his father's face. Nothing. "You may recall my beseeching you to allow me to traverse to Myrkviðr and I was denied. And though I have waited here for endless weeks, I am denied once more in receiving an update on my brother's fate." He shrugged briskly. "So here I am." Under ordinary circumstances, he would never speak so brazenly to his father. But he was tired, so bone-achingly and mind-numbingly tired that he could not find the energy to care.

"So I see." His father eyed him strangely for a moment. "You worry, then?"

"Of course I worry," Loki snapped. Weeks on end spent pent up alone in his bedroom, and his resentment towards his father had only intensified. Even now he could hear the unspoken accusation in his father's tone from their last meeting, laden with mistrust and suspicion. Father now taking the burden of responsibility did nothing to soothe the hurt buried deep and fixed within his heart. It was rapidly becoming more difficult to feign calm; he felt the uncanny need to defend himself. "Endlessly, in fact. I was the last person to see Thor alive and have been treated as a murderer for it." His mother flinched. "So as you can imagine, being forcefully imprisoned within the walls of my own home has been its own private torture."

"I did not forcefully imprison you." Frigga reached out and placed a gentle hand on Odin's arm; his face never changed but he visibly relaxed. "Loki, I wanted only to keep you here for your protection."

"I care not at all for my own protection," Loki started but Odin held up a staying hand.

"But I do. And it is now that I would seek your counsel as well, my son. I must know all that you saw when last Thor was in your sight. I must know what you know of the beast." Loki paused for a moment, considering.

And then he laughed.

Oh, but he could not stop the mocking chortle that bubbled out of his throat, thick with derision and anything but mirth. "Now you seek my reports, father?" he finally said, cutting himself off with a harsh snap of his mouth. "Now, when I have rotted away here in useless stupor, cautious to even leave the sanctuary of my own chambers lest I be dragged away and flogged in the public square?"

"Loki," Frigga said, her voice brimming with warning. Yet for some reason that only served to infuriate him further and his eyes welled, voice raising to a desperate pitch.

"No. I tried, I tried to give an accurate account before and instead was met with accusation and disbelief." His father began to move towards him and he backed up a few paces, shaking his head viciously. "No! I have already told you what happened and you did not believe me - of what use is it to repeat myself? To invite further doubt, to allow more questioning of my witness account?" He felt hysterical now as Odin came within an arm's length, his one hand outstretched. His back hit a pillar and the words tumbled out before he could stop them. "I cannot bear your disregard, father, not again, please not again, do not -" His voice halted abruptly as his father placed a steadying hand around the base of his neck, palm pressed to the side of his throat, his thumb resting gently below his eye. Just like Thor always did. For several, confusing seconds, Loki could do naught but stand stiffly, his mind grinding to an absolute halt, as his father's powerful gaze pierced his own. He opened his mouth to speak, then shut it again.

He could not remember the last time his father had...had touched him so, what -

"It will be well, my son," he said softly. And then like a soothing balm upon the soul, Loki could feel the warm flow of his father's magic seeping into his skin, bleeding into his bones and melting into his aura. He relaxed in a moment, sagging against the pillar behind him as relief flooded his entire body. "I believe you, Loki. I believe you." Gods above, how he wanted to be strong - how he wanted to cling onto his vitriol, spit out the angry words still cooped and waiting for release since their last meeting - but those last words, gods help him, those words were all he had wanted from the start. It felt suddenly like everything he had allowed himself to believe about his father these last few weeks had been nothing but bitter lies to assuage his own guilt and fury. With a choked sob, and before he allowed himself to think twice about it, he lurched forward and wrapped his arms around his father in a desperate embrace. For several, chilling seconds there was no response; but when at last those arms came round to hug him back, nothing and everything was made right, if for only that moment in time. Tears slipped silently down his face as he sagged against his father in relief, and he hated himself for it. The king was muttering something to him, but he could not hear what it was.

Time came to a standstill and for just a moment, he allowed himself some peace.

Loki felt dizzy.

Perhaps to express it more accurately, he did not feel right.

Once, as a child, he had fallen violently ill with some mystery ailment that did not allow him to eat or drink a single thing without violently throwing it back up. Eir had regularly administered some type of tonic that to this day made his stomach roil; the bitter taste of it would be forever remembered on his tongue, but its effects on his body even more so. For days after his supposed recovery he had felt woozy and disjointed, as if his very spirit had been disconnected from his body. No one had understood the reaction, as it was not a designated effect of the treatment; he could remember how his mother had fretted endlessly, close to panic as he had done little but stare blankly at the wall without response to her imploring inquiries.

The mystery had been solved some time after, when his innate magic had been discovered. The potion had adversely affected his health due to its enchanted ingredients, and something about his own untapped seidr had clashed rather angrily with it.

It had been two days since his father had returned, and this sense of underlying wrongness had not let him be since the All-father's magic had bled into his own.

He now stared at himself in the mirror, head titled slightly to the side, watching the color of his eyes dance and alter. One moment they were his natural, familiar green, the next they were blazing some ungodly flash of fiery emerald. It looked something like a war was waging in his irises and he was utterly transfixed by it. Beneath his skin, some unknown power thrummed like a hot salve; he could sense it, smell it, feel it.

But try as he might, he could not recognize it.

"Náttúra," he whispered softly. He watched as his pupils blew wide, reacting to the soft utterance of a spell he had only just learned. The air left his lungs in a rush. "Taka œgis-hjálmr, létta sot -" Some vicious fire ripped through his insides and his knees buckled, nearly sending him to the floor in a violent fit. His eyes blown wide in fear, he slammed his hands against the wash basin for purchase but snapped his chin against the porcelain for his efforts. Coming to stand to his full height slowly, he peeked over the brim of the basin with trepid eyes.

They looked entirely normal and though he stood watching himself for several moments, they did not change again.

Bewildered, he hobbled slowly out of his washroom and stared at his crumpled bedsheets in distaste. Intuitively, he knew he was not ill, at least not in the physical sense. As unfamiliar as it was, the faint hints of seidr tingled almost pleasantly in his veins, and his attempted spell proved well enough that some foreign influence was hiding beneath the surface. Whatever it was, it had responded with anger, like he had breached some sacred wall. The recollection of his childhood tonic came with the remembered similarity of how he felt then, just as he did now. He had thought the warmth of his father's magic had been utilized to calm him down, but its effects had left him lightheaded, confused, and annoyed.

Had his father put some kind of spell on him?

Unhappiness at the possibility reared slowly at first, then all at once. He glanced briefly at his shaking hands, willing them to stop as his mind drifted once more. Did father not trust him, mayhap? Was there more to his outward display of affection than he had initially thought? But if he had cast a spell, what was the purpose? He had sworn to obey his father and the king had relinquished his standing punishment in that very moment. It was thereafter he had detailed all he knew of the beast's magic; and though it was clear father was angry he had not shared the mystery of the beast's seidr initially, he did not press that issue too harshly, thank the gods. The most powerful sorcerers in the realm were in counsel with the All-father, preparing themselves to counter this beast with ancient seidr, as impossible as it all sounded. And father had promised him he could help, that he could speak with them and train with them even if they would allow it, so then why...?

A knock sounded on his door, quick and even with two unusually forceful strikes; he knew immediately who it was and sighed quietly. "Enter," he said and the door opened before he had finished uttering the second syllable. Armor clanked and he raised his eyes deliberately slow, matching the hardened stab of Sif's gaze with his own empty stare. "Good evening, Lady Sif," he said with a slight bow, frowning and clearing the expression in an instant at his own sorry state. But a few weeks ago, he could have found the pretense to be embarrassed that Sif was seeing him in such sloppy attire; as it was now, he figured she deserved nothing less for infringing on his privacy when bedtime was drawing near.

"My prince." She slammed a quick fist over her heart, the gesture looking forced and unpracticed. He would have smiled, were it not for the sour look on her face.

"What brings you by my chambers at this time of night?" He flicked his palm open and summoned a glowing green light within it, only to unnerve her. It did not seem to work as she walked a few paces towards him anyway, her stance rigid.

"I have only just heard that the All-father has lifted your solitude," she said curtly. He slid his gaze towards her, eyeing the armor she still wore. Ah. Straight from the training rings then. It must be important.

"Two days ago, in fact," he said lightly. His fingers were trembling again so he dissolved the light with a quick whisper and faced her, crossing his arms behind his back. Something about the gesture must have made her uncomfortable; she looked away and absently tugged at her hair, now hitting just below her earlobes.

"Yes, well, I only heard of it tonight."

"I find it interesting you heard it at all," he said with a shrug. "Considering father only denied me any exit from the palace. I was allowed visitors, dear Sif." The lines of her face hardened, as if she was about to sneer.

"How lovely for you. But I was not here these several weeks past. The Warriors Three and myself have been in Myrkviðr, searching for your brother." He did his best to hide the surprise from his face, but she caught it just the same. The corners of her lips pulled up in a satisfied smirk as if to say, Weren't expecting that now, were you?

"You..." He cleared his throat, shifting his gaze to the door behind her for only a moment. "You were permitted to volunteer?"

"Of course we were," she said lowly, almost sounding confused. "And we have only just returned this night, upon your father's orders. Why else do you think I would come here at this hour?"

"Not to waste my time, I should hope." She exhaled through her nose, clearly tired and frustrated. He smoothed out his features while he silently cursed his father in his head once again. Thor's idiotic friends were far from superior warriors and it angered him to no end that they had been allowed to traverse alongside the king - while he, his own son, had not. "Whatever you have come to say, I would ask you do it swiftly. I am afraid I do tire of useless pleasantries."

"I want to know what happened at Myrkviðr." She eyed him strangely, and he got the distinct impression she was refusing to take his bait and snap at him. "I have heard only the reports from the guardsmen who accompanied you, but I should like to know what you saw."

"Do you now?" Some swell of misgiving made itself known, but he forced himself to smile at her. "How very interesting. Here I was thinking you had made it abundantly clear to Thor when last you saw him that you did not trust me."

"Do not turn this around on me, Loki." She leveled him with a furious stare. "I wish only to know what happened to Thor."

"So you seek me out and ask for my account?" He uncrossed his arms and made his way towards her, hands out by his side in offering. "Why is that, Sif? Do you not suspect me of foul deeds? Doubtless you have heard the reports. Why bother coming to me directly when so often you thrive on gossip concerning my affairs?"

"Tell me what happened at Myrkviðr," she said, her eyes darkening.

"Or what?" he asked softly, standing directly in front of her now. He tilted his head and studied her. "Will you threaten me, Lady Sif?"

"Why are you acting this way?" Her eyes darted rapidly back and forth across his face. "Loki, I implore you. Stop this." By the gods! Was that fear in her voice he detected?

"Indulge me then, dear Sif." He forced himself to calm down, wondering only briefly at the feel of rising temper in his heart. "What all have you heard?"

"That Thor mysteriously disappeared while in your company," she said quickly, grateful for the change, it seemed. "That you two had been arguing the night before, which should cause no true suspicion amongst any who know you. You two do little else." He found this inexplicably amusing and a light chuckle made its way past his throat. Sif's expression did not change. "I care not for the idle chatter, though you would accuse me of such. I only want to know what you saw. You were the last to see Thor alive. The All-father will not share with us what troubled him in the woods, but we sensed his fear just the same." Loki's ears perked up; what was this now? "I was hoping you might be able to shed some light. You and your..." She gestured weirdly at his hands. "Magic or what have you."

"I did not harm my brother." They locked eyes again, trapped in some endless, unspoken battle for dominance. "I know nothing of Thor's fate. We were viciously attacked and I myself suffered a harsh blow that rendered me unconscious. The last I saw he was being overcome by the beast." Sif's face crumpled.

"So that is it, then?"

"I am afraid so." She huffed out a breath; her irritation was more clearly marked in her features now.

"As you are now allowed to leave the palace, will you come with us on the next excursion?" He paused for a moment, eyeing her strangely. "You alone know where the beast attacked you. We wandered about for weeks without any luck at all, but we were shooting blind. I know you've a keen sense for navigation. You can retrace your steps and -"

"No." He held up a hand to stop her, surprised somewhat that she actually did. "I cannot."

"Why not?" She practically spat the question and his eyes narrowed despite himself.

"Because I cannot, Sif. The woods are..." His voice trailed off, remembering how father had made mention of the hidden evil in that place. "The woods are not as they seem," he settled for. "I tried and failed to find my brother. The constant return to scour the exact same land is not only fruitless, it is a waste of time and lends itself to insanity. We cannot keep doing the exact same over and over and expect different results."

"And so you are proposing what, exactly?" He took a moment to fully take in her appearance: wild, tired eyes, no doubt a result of sleepless nights over Thor's fate; mud-smeared armor, rigid shoulders, obviously impatient. Gods, but he did not want to do this with her right now.

He was so tired, all of a sudden.

"I am proposing nothing as of yet," he said lamely, turning from her. He walked back to his bed and waved her off. "But rest assured, my assistance in this matter would be anything but. All further plans of action must be dealt with by father."

"Surely you jest." Her voice was cold and bordered on the familiar accusation he had come to truly despise; he froze as he adjusted his pillows. "Surely you must, for your apathy in this matter is both terrifying and horridly inappropriate."

"You know nothing of my thoughts, Sif." He refused to face her but his arms were beginning to tremble. "You may go now."

"We need your help." She sounded almost desperate, and surely she must have been; never before had she entreated him this way for his aid. The remembrance of such stilled his tongue. "Loki, how can you stand there and refuse?" she suddenly asked. "Do you truly care so little for Thor's life? We are only his friends and spent many a sleepless night in the darkness of that place, searching and roaming the endless expanse of the wilderness, while you remained here. You are his brother, Loki, how could you -"

"Shut up," he snapped, whirling on her. Her eyes bulged. "I will no longer tolerate these claims, these accusations that my brother's life means nothing to me." He stormed towards her and placed a forceful hand against her shoulder, bodily pushing her away. "Leave my chambers, Sif. I swear to the gods if you so much as utter such foul charges against me again, I will ensure your own isolation within these walls."

"Do not touch me," she hissed, so he deliberately pushed her again.

"I am your prince, Sif," he snapped as she angrily slapped his hands away but backed up into the hall just the same. He strode towards the doorway, his heart racing, and braced his arms against the frame. "It would serve you well to remember such before you charge into my chambers again."

"With behavior such as yours," she said lowly, "you are no prince of mine." Any planned response died on his tongue as she turned and sped down the corridor, disappearing from sight within seconds. The similarity of her words to those expressed by Cadby but a few short weeks prior sunk deeper than any physical blow she could have landed. For several, long moments he could do naught but stand there as his mind raced, wondering not for the first time if he truly was so despicable that he could not even gain the basest respect from those who served him.

No prince of mine, no prince of mine

"If it had been me," he whispered to himself, "would you have worried so?" Emptiness swallowed him whole, brutal and quick in its quiet desolation. He eventually turned and shut the door behind him, longing for gods only knew what. He went to sleep and dreamt of nothing.

The next day passed slowly and dreadfully quick. Odin prepared the mages for the next journey to the woods, sans any soldiers this time. No one save they and the royal family had any inkling as to why.

And then three days later, Loki's brother came from the woods.