Long story short: I'm not dead. I changed the beginning to this chapter at least four times. Thank you for all the love and patience. :3

This chapter is dedicated to Natalie Rushman - your lengthy reviews make my heart sing.

/

The first few days following Thor's return passed in some cheerful solidarity, and Loki could not remember a time when those around him were so unreservedly happy.

It was as if all that had occurred the past few weeks were wiped from history the moment his brother's feet crossed the threshold of the palace. The fleeting glares, the whispered taunts behind his back, the heavy blanket of gloom that had swallowed them whole since his own return from the woods were replaced with nothing but jovial countenances and the tangible sense of relief. Loki wished to share this joy; desired nothing more, in fact, than to accept that the accusations repeatedly uttered against him had been spoken out of nothing more than fright and anxiety over the unknown quality of Thor's disappearance. He wished that he could smile as brightly as mother did, and order the remaining soldiers in Myrkviðr to come home with a reassured tone, as father did. He wished it so.

But he could not.

The coursing surge of reprieve that had come upon him when first he'd laid eyes on Thor walking home that morning had all but dissipated as the days passed; questions, burning and never-ending questions, replaced those feelings and peppered his consciousness incessantly like rocks against a windowpane. They crept in like snakes beneath a door's edge, unwelcome and bearing no good will.

He wondered, constantly now, if there was something the matter with him.

Did he imagine the changes he saw in his brother? Thor's gait, usually heavy-footed and clumsy, was now light and almost...graceful. His smile was kind, and bore none of the underlying jest Loki had grown accustomed to in their years together. He was nothing but courteous, understanding, polite, and had maintained a sort of reservedness that both baffled and dizzied him. It was as if Thor's time in the woods had drained him of all his impulsiveness, all his temper, all his rash and stupid behavior. Thor was quite suddenly the brother he had used to wish him to be, but the change in personality was so wholly inexplicable that it gave him apprehension instead of peace.

His brother was infuriatingly different but he could not find the core of the thing to explain it, even to himself.

Could this be nothing more than some suspicious intuition?

What happened in the woods? he had asked Thor, two nights after the great feast. It was the first moment they had had a moment alone, the first opportunity he had been given to ask after his brother's well-being. He had done so based on the reassurance of a single truth: never in their lives had Thor ever been able to lie to him. His elder brother was a terrible liar, and nearly as bad at keeping secrets as he was in telling an untruth. Privately, his brother would unburden his soul when there wasn't an anxious crowd swarming in on all sides. There would be no reason for Thor to keep his stories from him, to hide away what had actually transpired in those woods.

Or so he had thought.

Thor had only stared at him in response, his eyes blank and unreadable. That's what it was, Loki thought now as he ambled down the halls. That is what unnerved me. His impassivity.

I do not wish to speak of it, Thor had finally said, after the silence had stretched into their own private eternity. He had turned his eyes to the fire in his hearth, and the reflection of its glow made his eyes look hellish and haunted. Loki had nodded, ashamed somehow that he had dared to question for more information. But he had been unable to think of anything else save that bizarre exchange in the days following and so had decided to seek out the only other being in this place who he trusted implicitly.

"Mother," he said warmly as she stood to greet him. Her study had been a childhood sanctuary for him, and it was often he found her here, reading or having her tea when the afternoon could be spared for some leisure.

"Loki," she said, her voice lilting on his name warmly like a hushed lullaby. She reached to embrace him and he allowed it; someday, mayhap, he would grow embarrassed by her affection, but today was not that day. "Look at that, my son. The first snow of the season. I take it as glad tidings from the Norns, in acknowledgement of your brother's return to us." He nodded against her shoulder, eyeing the tall windowpanes behind her and smiled slightly; without even knowing it, she somehow always managed to open the door for the exact topic of conversation he had sought her out for.

"Aye mother," he said softly as they parted and she gestured for him to take a seat beside her. He obliged her, his eyes darting to the snowflakes fluttering through the air outside like bird's feathers. "It seems many firsts have found us since Thor's return."

"How do you mean?" she asked, smiling at him. For a fleeting moment he wondered if he should say anything at all to her, and so shatter the comfort that Thor's return had brought her. Unbidden, memory surfaced of the last time he had stood in this room with her - how his magic, albeit briefly, had edged from his control. He hid a grimace with a smile of his own and shook his head; he came here only to ask her if she saw what he did. Focusing instead on the graceful woman before him, he shoved the memory of that day to the back of his mind.

"I only mean that...Thor is different, yes?" Frigga cocked her head, brow crumpling in confusion. He rushed to explain. "Surely you have noticed, mother. There are moments where I do not recognize him. He is...not the same." Silently he cursed himself for his inarticulate explanation, but his mother only smiled again in quiet understanding.

"Of course, my son." He sat up straighter and waited for her to continue. It took a moment, and her eyes drifted to the falling snow outside. "Of course he is different. Thor underwent some sort of harm while he was away; this much I know. I could see it in his eyes from the moment he arrived. Just what he went through, I could not say. He does not seem to wish to speak of it."

"Precisely," Loki muttered. He scooted forward, watching her watching the window. "Mother, it is only that I am concerned, you see. We do not know what fate befell Thor in the woods, and he seems quite unwilling to voice it. I fear because...well, I worry because father spoke of an evil in that place. An ancient seidr, he said. All preparations in regards to this unknown terror have been cast aside since Thor has returned, but..." Her warm gray eyes found his and he faltered again, feeling like a fool. "Is it wise, mother? Is it wise to relinquish all efforts, when we do not even know what truly happened?"

"I believe we will, in time." Her voice held some quiet reassurance he did not understand. "Oh, Loki. I know you are still angry with your father. I know that you wished to return to Myrkviðr with the sorcerers, but that was only when Thor was still missing. The townspeople have not had an attack in weeks, the beast is dead, and your brother is safe and sound. There is no need to question your father's decisions. We are freed from this dreaded affair, just as the villagers are." Some riled desire to defend himself arose; he quickly smothered it back down and stood, if only to distract himself with something to do. This was not a change of topic he desired.

"I do not question father's judgement," he said anyway, lacing his fingers together behind his back. Frigga raised an eyebrow at him and he sighed, shoulders slumping. "Alright. I do. I cannot help it, mother. You yourself saw how troubled he was when he spoke of the evil in the forest. Yet the moment Thor returns we are suddenly willing and able to forget the whole thing? How is that prudent?"

"Trust your father, my son." The queen stood with him and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. "There is a reason for everything he does." A thousand responses flitted through his mind as he looked at her - some angry, some collected, some entirely indifferent - but he had not come here to speak of father.

"And what of Thor?" he asked quietly. She smiled at him kindly.

"Exercise patience, Loki. Yes, your brother is not acting like himself. But give him time. Whatever demons found him in that place will soon lose their hold on his soul. Do not press him, my child. When the time is right, he will share with us what happened. You will see." His face twitched with a wanting smile. She chuckled. "And you know, if you would like, you may be able to catch him in the training rings. I spoke to him not long ago and he made mention that he longed for a good spar. Perhaps some time spent between you two would do some good." He nodded slowly and tried to ignore the sinking feeling in his gut.

"Right then," he said, patting her on the hand. "I will go and find him. Of course you are right mother. I need only be...patient." His mother made a low humming noise in her throat, and it was apparent to both of them that he was not being entirely truthful. But it was not until he was turning to leave that she spoke again.

"Be careful." He paused and looked over his shoulder at her, frowning. She seemed to falter only slightly before continuing. "Please. I would not be able to bear it if...if any kind of wretched accusation against you found a home within these walls again." Several beats passed in silence and his face twitched again. It was clear what she was saying.

Be wary of sharing your concerns with the company of this palace, lest your doubts bring trouble once more.

"You have my word," he said, bowing his head. She nodded and he made to leave, but paused once again at the doorway when another thought struck him. "Mother," he said without turning around, picking absently at the wood. "Do you still have that scrap of Thor's cape that I...gave you?"

"No," came the dreaded reply. "I disposed of it." A pause. Then: "It was covered in blood."

"Just curious," he said, a bit too jovially. He exited quickly then, his mind whirring, and his mother did not see the distressed twist of his features as he hurried down the halls.

It was cold outside.

Winter had undoubtedly found its way to the city and Loki now questioned his decision to not bring along his mantle as he trudged towards the training rings, sword in hand. By habit, his eyes scanned the snow-covered dirt as he approached, searching for the familiar form of his brother. Instead he found only Sif, hacking angrily away at a sack of old beans with a wooden sword. Well, that's just jolly. He watched her for a moment before deciding to approach her, still feeling somewhat apprehensive in her company.

He was in no mood for her snide remarks, but as it was, no one else was around to question as to Thor's whereabouts.

"Good afternoon, Lady Sif," he said stiffly as he came closer to her. She spared him a brief glance before she attacked her "opponent" again. He wasn't entirely sure, but it sounded like she grunted out a greeting in reply. He shifted his weight and looked past her when he spoke again. "I was wondering if you have seen my brother about."

"No," she said, landing another blow to the sack. He huffed out a small breath, watching the mist dissipate in the cold.

"Well when was the last you saw him?"

"I have not seen him today," she grit out, casting her fake sword to the ground. In a flash, she yanked her real weapon from the sheath by her side, the metal glinting and deadly against the purity of the snow. Absentmindedly, he tapped the hilt of his own sword.

"Right then," he said distractedly. "You must have missed him. Perhaps he's returned to his chambers."

"Perhaps not." With expert dexterity, the blade of her weapon swung in an arc and sliced clean through the sack of beans, sending them scattering around her feet. She looked him dead in the eye then and sniffed. "Thor was not here."

"I was assured by the Queen that he was," he said evenly. Sif's brows raised.

"Then she must have been mistaken. Thor was not here today."

"Or you simply missed him," he said again with a shrug. Irritation was dancing through his veins again; why did he let her do this?

"I did not, Loki. I have been here for the better part of the afternoon, and never once did I see your brother. Honestly, what reason would I have to lie to you?" She was staring at his sword now with an appraising eye and he hummed in his throat before sheathing it. In a moment, her eyes had found his again. "And since when do you practice with that type of weapon?"

"Since I decided to seek out my brother and spar with him," he said impatiently, turning on his heel. "Good day." Without even having to turn around, he could feel the daggers of her glare against his back.

Well. It seemed she was still cross with him too.

He wandered back towards the stables, memory dancing once more towards his attempted escape and Cadby's sound beating. A lump appeared in his throat and he shifted his path away from the place. He had not seen the young sentry since that day, and he was beginning to wonder if that in itself was not a coincidence. Pity though, if someone had found out and punished him properly. He would have loved to see the look on his face when first he spotted Thor.

Thor.

Why had he not been at the training rings, as he had told their mother? A change in plans, perhaps? Is it really that important? Loki's steps faltered as he headed towards the eastern courtyard, which was empty and quiet because of the snow. Perhaps he had gone back to his room. Perhaps he'd felt peckish and gone to the dining hall instead. Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps.

Perhaps he had lied to their mother.

Stop it, he chided himself, pausing to lean heavily against the gardener's shed. He closed his eyes and tipped his head backward, relishing the feel of the cold air in his lungs. There was something wholesome and pure in the first snowfall of the season. The world spun to a silent stop around him, and he swore he could hear the stars, hidden as they were by the clouds above. The earth was calm and blanketed with a white canvas - a new beginning, a fresh start. Symbolic, he thought, of the second chance he'd been granted when Thor had returned. He needed to stop thinking like this. He was still frazzled, mayhap, by the burden of his brother's fate that by all purposes, was still unknown. The final piece of the puzzle, still missing. He needed to calm himself and stop these unfounded thoughts. That was it, and that was all.

He had just settled on this conclusion when the static of magic filled the air, sifting through his skin and hair like a hot summer's wind.

His eyes shot open instinctively, and he stiffened, nails curling into the wooden slats behind him. It was suddenly all too difficult to breathe and he wheezed, unable to draw enough air into his lungs. Every nerve in his body reacted in violent sync - he could feel the electric pulse of seidr flowing through his blood as his own responded with curiosity, mingling with the unknown spell in the air. His legs jerked once, twice, three times as he struggled to move; on the last try they finally obeyed his command and he peered out warily from behind his perch. The aroma hit him instantly.

Lilac.

Frigid air slipped between his teeth in an angry hiss. Not thirty yards from where he hid stood Thor, in the middle of the courtyard, head bowed, arms hanging low by his sides. Where had he...? The snow swirled around him in a whirlwind, blanketing him, it seemed, with sparks of light amidst the snowflakes. He was mumbling something - just what, he could not tell - but as Thor's fingers began to dance and the magic around him intensified, clarity burst and the force of it almost sent him to his knees. Magic.

A familiar magic.

One that was heavy, and tainted with that damn smell.

A magic he had not encountered since that day in the woods.

He hadn't much time to dwell on the anomalous circumstance; Thor turned towards him, sharply, at the exact moment he ducked back behind the shed.

For several, agonizing seconds, Loki stood there waiting for the sound of Thor's approaching footsteps. He heard nothing, save the frantic beat of his pulse. Mind swirling with confusion and a sickening dread, he leaned forward once more to peer around the edge of his hiding place.

Empty.

Thor was gone.

He was not sleeping again.

He had found, to his great relief, that the restlessness which had so plagued him those long weeks had all but disappeared upon Thor's return. The nightmares that had tortured his slumbering mind faded quickly into memory and within the past week, blessed sleep had found him once more. Thor had returned; Thor was safe. It was a mantra he had repeated endlessly to himself when for no reason at all he would awake with a racing heart and a clammy brow in the middle of the night.

Thor is here, he is safe, it is well.

Exhausted, he would fall back asleep and dream of nothing until the morning dawned bright and quick.

And so it had been until that day behind the shed, exactly a week since Thor had come home.

Two days had now passed and Loki found his mind was still riddled with aching confusion. He had seen very little of his brother these past few days and had not felt right in seeking out his company to question him again. Yet every time he closed his eyes he saw the scene before him once more: Thor, alone in the courtyard, the palpable beginnings of a spell arising from his body. Himself, watching from the shadows, as his brother stood frozen in a trance, whispering something he could not understand. The impossible disappearance of his brother, when the courtyard was fenced in with only one entrance and exit. Some heavy bolt of dread had planted itself in his chest in that moment, and had remained ever since.

He had run towards the place Thor had been standing, his fingers dancing in the air as he tried to summon the lingering energies of the spell to himself. Like a fading dream, it had been just out of his touch - the magic had dissipated before he had any real chance to feel it.

Magic? his mind had screamed. Thor had been using magic? He had walked in circles, trying to make sense of what he had seen, eyes scanning the ground hungrily for the tell-tale sign of Thor's departing footsteps. He had found nothing, save the ones he himself left behind. Along the perimeter of the gates, the snow was perfectly undisturbed. It had become abundantly clear that the only possible explanation was that Thor had simply...vanished. Teleported, via a magic spell. Thor, who had never studied magic a day in his life, save the basic principles that were required as part of their studies. Not possible, he'd thought then, his heart sinking to his stomach in one fell drop.

Not possible, he thought again now, staring unblinkingly at the ceiling above him. His room was cast in the full moon's creamy beams, creating a ghostly fog that made the shadows appear to jump and reach towards him. His body shuddered with a sigh as he turned onto his side, arms wrapped tightly about his body. Not possible, not possible, not possible. He was thoroughly convinced now that Thor had been trapped somewhere in the woods, that he had not slain that hideous beast as quickly as he had said. Had the beast done this, somehow taught his brother the complicated structures of a teleportation spell? Was such a thing even possible? What had Thor been doing, exactly, when first he'd sensed the enchantment in the air? And where did he go, once he had disappeared from the courtyard?

And why the sweet traces of lilac, just as it had been in the woods?

Fear clenched his insides until he gasped for air, and he clumsily threw the sheets off of his body. He stumbled towards the grand window that overlooked the city and pressed his forehead against the frozen glass, forcing himself to breathe. It took several moments for his heart to cease slamming against his ribs, but peace refused to find him as he gazed out towards the silent night.

Despite the pulsing rationale of his waking mind, he still could not shake the nightmare of the forest from his head.

With a shaking hand, he pushed the tendrils of hair from his face and focused blearily on his blurred reflection in the window. It was only in these moments, where he was alone and surrounded by the overwhelming quiet, that he could feel the piercing tingle of that foreign substance in his veins. The jittery tremor in his limbs and ever-present feel of wrongness had never truly left him since that night with Sif. Could that be what this was? That unknown spell, wreaking havoc on his mind? Was it possible he had not actually...seen what he thought he had? He exhaled shakily and turned, unable to bear the sight of his eyes changing once more to that eerie and incandescent hue.

Have I been cursed? he wondered. He had never asked father about it, and did not really want to; he knew full well it would only bring trouble upon his head. All had returned to some semblance of normalcy and within the next few weeks, all doubts concerning his involvement in Myrkviðr would be forgotten entirely. Were he to voice his misgivings, it would only invite the same dead-eyed glares and vicious gossip once more. Mother had warned him to be careful, and rightly so; if father had cast a spell on him, who was he to doubt its validity?

He slumped to the ground and leaned his head against the glass, eyes closed.

Thor had returned, hadn't he?

After weeks spent stranded and lost, he had come from the woods.

Most strange things do, his father's voice echoed in his mind.

Only...only there were so many parts of Thor's story that did not make any sense. How was it possible that he had wandered the woods for over a month and had never been spotted by any of the search parties? The guards had constantly been on the move, and though the woods were large, it was not possible that Thor would never have seen or heard them. Even father, who had sensed something amiss in the woods upon his own voyage there, did not question Thor's account. His son had come back. That was all that mattered. He cared no longer for the evil in that place he had spoken of, and would not send the mages as had been planned. Loki could not understand the sudden indifference, when father himself had spoken of that ancient seidr that would -

Loki's eyes snapped open.

What exactly had father sensed in the woods then, if by that time Thor had already slain the beast?

So many questions, too many questions. No answers. No peace.

Was this madness?

He shivered, allowing his mind to drift once more back to that day, that cursed day in the woods. The smell of lilac. The beast emerging from the woods, the horrid attack they'd been woefully underprepared for. Thor's cry echoing in his ears as he lost consciousness by the water, the final sight of his brother bloodied and angry and scared. Hurt.

Thor had been hurt.

He had seen it, cast his very eyes upon the gaping wound in Thor's abdomen just before the beast had struck. And that scrap of cloth he had found, dirtied and covered in blood, it could not have possibly come from any other source - it had been a piece of his brother's cape, a part torn from the whole by the beast's deadly claw. He had seen it, he knew he had, just as he had seen the fleeting glimpse of Thor's unblemished cape upon his return to the palace...!

Loki scrambled to a standing position, huffing out a frustrated breath. He could no longer stand this, the wondering and the raging musings of his own mind. He could not wait any longer for answers, he had to speak to Thor now.

Whispering to himself, a small glowing light appeared in the cup of his hand as he exited his bedroom. Down the corridors he crept silently, his eyes heavy with the want for sleep, his body taught and alert. This would not be the first time he had awoken his brother in the middle of the night in the course of their lives together. He would simply tell him he could not sleep, and find a way to gear the conversation towards what had actually transpired in the woods. He would tell him he had seen him use magic, and Thor would have no choice but to provide answers. Yes. That would do. Thor would be honest with him and tell him the truth, whatever it was he felt he needed to hide. Perhaps the beast had used its magic to trap him somewhere, and he did not want to admit that he had been overcome by a power he deemed entirely below him. They had not spoken of the bizarre quality of the beast's seidr, and honestly, he wasn't even sure if Thor had sensed it as he had.

No matter. He would ask, Thor would tell, and then he would be able to sleep and forget this entire dreaded business.

Perhaps he would even be able to remove the spell that had been cast upon his brother.

It was a thought that comforted him, right until he came to the doorway to Thor's bed chambers.

His quiet steps pattered to a halt, eyeing the wide gap between Thor's opened door and the wall. His brother never slept with the door open - he'd always entertained some weird fantasy about his foes sneaking in and slaying him in his sleep. I should hear their approach, if the door remains closed he had always said and Loki had never failed in informing him that he slept like a giant and it would take no true effort to sneak upon him in his slumber. The memories sifted quickly through his mind as he stared at the door, his heart thumping erratically once more in his chest. Calm yourself, he commanded, forcing his steps forward. It is an open door and nothing else.

He poked only his head in at first, squinting in the dim light. "Thor?" he whispered. He slipped quietly inside and approached his brother's bed, holding his palm of light out in front of him. "Brother? Are you awake?" It took exactly ten seconds to realize that Thor was not in his bed, and after a quick turnabout, to discover that he was not even in the room. Loki stood there for a moment, puzzled, and briefly considered heading back to his own bed for another night of restlessness.

The muscle in his right arm spasmed and his face twitched at the thought. He headed back out into the hall and turned right, towards the throne throne room and open expanse of the palace. He wasn't entirely sure where Thor was, nor why he felt the pressing need to find out, but it was as if his feet had developed a mind of their own. He was silent as death as he crept down the corridors, eyes darting about quickly for gods-knew-what. He had just turned a corner blindly, his mind drifting towards the disturbing emptiness of these hallways in the dead of night, when he spotted a tall form standing not ten yards before him. Instinctively he shot back around the partition of wall to hide, diminishing his light in a flash. He paused a moment to catch his breath, waiting; then peered carefully around the wall's edge.

It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the dark, but he recognized Thor in an instant. He was facing the gigantic window that looked out over the same courtyard, his arms folded behind him, standing straight and rigid as a solider. Loki watched for a few, long seconds, wondering what in gods' name he was doing out here, when Thor's head snapped to the right as if the windowpane beside him had spontaneously shattered. Loki jerked back only slightly, refusing to take his eyes off of his brother. Thor did not move for a few moments, but remained in that head-tilted position as if listening for a creeping intruder. It was not until he turned and faced towards the window once more that Loki released a breath he did not realize he had been holding. For reasons unknown, he felt the sinking spear of warning in his gut as goose-flesh dotted his arms: do not make your presence known.

But why? his heart countered. His heart rate was elevated, his fingers were shaking, and his body was tensed against the wall as if ready to run. Was this...was this fear he felt in the company of his own brother?

By the Norns, what...?

His thoughts shifted and fell into place as Thor turned abruptly again, facing him at an angle. Loki receded into the shadows as the hair stood up on the back of his neck, seeing Thor's face for the first time.

Most notably, the orange glint of his usually-blue eyes.

It took a moment for him to realize that they were reflecting the moonlight as an animal's would and he stopped breathing. Thor cocked his head, as if listening once more, before he turned stiffly and began walking down the halls. Loki's heart was now beating in rapid blows against his ribs and he crept forward carefully, dreading what should happen if Thor noticed him in the dark. His line of vision reached just far enough to see Thor disappear through a side-door; Loki remained frozen where he was, spotting his brother only seconds later through the windowpane, down in the courtyard again. His blurred form stood still in the moonlight, one arm jutted out in front of him, fingers wrapped securely around a gardener's shovel. Loki's face dipped into a frown, watching Thor remain unmoving for several minutes longer.

And then as if he had received some unspoken command, his head snapped up towards the window and Loki knew he had been caught.

/

I think this chapter had more question marks in it than anything else I've ever written.

Anyone else get the impression that Loki and Frigga had the "There is a reason for everything your father does" conversation before? I do. Thus the inclusion.

Sorry about the delay! Life's been nuts lately. Stay tuned though; this tale is about to pick up again.