A/N: First thing's first: I'm sorry.

I never had any intention of taking this long to update, but when you add 6 months in England + limited Wi-fi, you get a freakin' four month gap before I post the next chapter.

Please know that this story has not been abandoned or forgotten. On the plus side, I went ahead and reworked this entire chapter and I think it's far better than its predecessor. Thank you to all my loyal readers who have kept reviewing even though I've been a ghost. You have no idea how encouraging it's been for me to keep pressing on.

Secondly: Merry Christmas!

Okay, shutting up now. Let's get to the good stuff, shall we?

/

It was a frigid morning.

Beneath her feet the snow gave way like a bed of feathers, leaving the mark of her passage in sunken footprints. The air was tinged already with the scents of pine and snow, perfectly masked by winter's quiet touch. Still she kept a cautious eye, keenly aware that spells of this magnitude were sure to draw the attention of the imposter if they weren't careful. Before her stood her youngest – feet planted firmly, legs slightly bent, eyes closed tight in concentration. Pure energy wafted between them, seeming to spark and dance as her guiding spells clashed against his own aura. "You can do this," she said softly, watching his movements. His back was rigid with tension, his mouth set in a firm line. It was obvious that he was frustrated. "Breathe." He sucked in a slow breath, curving the palm of his hands outward. The energies shifted at his command and hope surged briefly in her heart. "That's it. Find the tear, Loki."

"There is…so much," he grit out. The air crackled with his magic and gooseflesh broke out on her arms. "Mother, I cannot –"

"Steady yourself," she interrupted, watching him intently. "The energies want to be guided, my son. Drop your defenses. Breathe." He grunted, grimacing with the effort. One foot slid backwards in the snow and he huffed out another breath. With a quieted sigh, she bled more of her own influence between the spell – the effect was instantaneous as his face smoothed out, calmed as the energies released their weighted hold.

Again, she thought to herself. We will try again.

Not for the first time, she wondered if they were making a mistake. Without her consent, Loki had been placed at the forefront of the battle-line not once, but twice with that mysterious, ancient seidr. Twice he had encountered it alone, and twice he had survived despite the near impossibility of it. She had always known of his innate, though yet untouched power, and longed to better prepare him for the next confrontation (if that is what it came to, she reasoned). But since he had awakened three days ago, certain things had come to light that made her fear involving him in any capacity.

Most notably, the beast's seeming delight in torturing his mind.

Even now she could not explain what she had found when she had allowed her magic to intercept his dreams. His distress while asleep had been frightening to the point that she could no longer stand to see him suffer, and so she had made the decision – however intrusive – to make it stop.

It was there she had found the demon.

Something had attached itself to her son, something dark and sinister and cold. Its power was firm and unwavering but shrouded beneath his magic, just outside of her understanding. She had cast it out and replaced Loki's lost power with her own, but even then she had felt no relief. Her youngest was bright, gifted, and knowledgeable; she knew that he had known that something was wrong, yet had chosen to keep it secret. For weeks he'd been tortured with nightmares as this foreign influence had stolen from him, made him suffer, made him weak. And he had known. He had known it since his return from the woods, all those weeks ago, and had said nothing.

Why? She had asked him when his strength had returned. Why did you keep this from me? Never would she forget the image of him lying there, eyes rimmed with exhaustion and pain, staring silently away from her.

Because I wanted to fix it on my own, is what had eventually come out of his mouth; but it was a lie. It was a lie, and she knew it, and it was only then she started to wonder when her once open and honest boy had so artfully learned to hide from her.

She had told him, in no uncertain terms, that no further action could be taken unless he was honest about everything that had transpired. And he had complied, start to finish, about how he had had misgivings from the first moment Thor had returned to them, about why he had asked after the piece of Thor's cape he had given her, about the confusing episode of Thor in the hall in the middle of the night. Neither of them knew exactly why this creature had decided to show itself to Loki, but one thing was clear: it enjoyed taunting him. This in itself was mysterious, since the power it obviously possessed was more than ample in destroying him if it so chose.

Power, Loki had said. His eyes had slipped shut and he'd turned from her as the color drained from his cheeks. Power I cannot withstand, though you tell me I should be able to.

So doubtful he was. No matter what she said, she could not seem to accurately convey to him that it was the virtue of his own untapped strength that he had survived at all. And indeed, it was only once she told him that she wanted to better hone this ability – that she wanted to teach him more powerful spells, in order to better combat this foe – that he had started listening again at all. And so they trained these three days previous, shrouded in the secrecy of the eastern courtyard, ensuring that the imposter remained unawares as to their exploits. Though he had wanted to attack the thing outright, and understandably so, she had made it clear that subterfuge was to be their ally. He must not know we know, she had warned. Not yet.

What she had not told him was that this was the express order of the All-Father. As of yet, Loki had not asked about what his father knew and she had the feeling their last sour encounter was the reason.

"You are nearly there," she said now, swallowing the lump in her throat. Watching him struggle with this was sending bolts of apprehension through her entire being. Yggdrasil's roots hummed with ancient power, and its effects did take some getting used to but especially when learning how to teleport. Learning this spell had been at his own insistence, as the imposter used it frequently and he wanted to be on equal footing "when he faced the thing again."

She did not know how to tell him that this, too, had been forbidden by the king.

There was simply too much at stake. Though she acknowledged the importance of his firsthand knowledge so that they might combat this enemy, and also strove to better teach him should he have to face it again, she could not shake the guilt in her gut that what she was doing here was dishonest.

That what she was doing was deceptive.

Loki was not to cross paths with this evil again. Already they had risked his life through their own folly, and Odin had been insistent they did not allow it again when he traversed to Myrkviðr in two days' time.

Loki whimpered, drawing her mind back to the task at hand. Even with his newfound determination, still he suffered; his own fears were what impeded his progress here. She had warned him of the dangers of long-distance teleportation, of doing it incorrectly and ending up in the vacuum of the cosmos. She had not meant to limit him by saying so – only to teach and guide with honesty – but she found there was a part of her that was gladdened by his hesitation.

She hoped it might dissuade him from endangering his life once he found out their true plan of action.

"Your powers will mesh with what you feel," she said gently, slowly releasing her hold. "But you must let it, Loki. Do not fight it." He gasped, and a rush of his power slammed against her like a steadied wind. "Find the tear, Loki. Find the tear."

"I am trying," he bit out. His influence was becoming more obvious now as she reigned her own in, but it wasn't connecting right. Her magic was the only thing tethering his bond with Yggdrasil, and the moment she stopped it would be lost altogether.

But he could do this. She knew he could, if only his own trepidations could be cast aside for a moment…only a moment…

Without warning, the air warmed and a surge of his seidr came rushing again so fast and so furious, that it knocked her off her feet. She landed in the snow with a startled cry, only to bolt upright as sparks of energy began dancing on his skin. "Loki, you must stop," she said. "I will –"

"Wait," he said quickly. His eyes shot open, flashing nervous green. "Wait mother please, do not –" But it was too late. She released her hold and the sudden sever sent his magic straight back to the source; he fell to the ground with a heavy thud. She approached him quickly, the breath frozen in her lungs, as he pushed himself to all fours. She recoiled, only slightly, when his head snapped up and he fixed her with a withering, angry glare.

"I nearly had it," he rasped. His mouth curved into an unhappy grimace. "I nearly had it that time."

"Mayhap you did," she said softly, moving to crouch down beside him. "But it was too dangerous, Loki. I am not sure what happened at the end, but it was too much. Your power was overcoming my own, and I could not let the connection break." He stood quickly, and she copied his movement. His breaths were rapid and shallow and he wasn't looking at her again. Worry coiled in her heart. "You are learning so quickly, Loki. You –"

"Not quickly enough." He ran a hand through his hair and shook his head, staring emptily at the ground. "This is taking too long. The longer we wait, the more of a stronghold we allow the imposter and we risk the chance of Thor's safe return." He looked up at her then, eyes sharp. When he spoke again it was with a feigned calm. "I cannot find my way through."

"You must exercise patience Loki," she said carefully. She met his gaze unwaveringly. "Teleporation is unlike anything else, and it is not to be taken lightly. Yggdrasil's roots make up the essence of our universe and connect one dimension with another, even within our own realm. If you are not careful – if you hasten your travel or allow yourself to fall into the void – you could end up trapped in another world."

"Or worse," he said lowly. A frown crept between his brows. "Wait…does that not mean that there are other pathways off of Asgard besides the Bifrost?" She huffed a quiet sigh of relief at the change of topic.

"Only those which pose a great danger to any who dare to venture to walk the skies." She could sense the gears turning in his head and would be highly amused were the circumstances different. "Loki…"

"It was just a question." His defensive tone further grounded her existing guilt.

She was going to have to tell him. Today.

"Shall we try again?" she asked instead, ignoring the pang in her heart as he nodded briskly and readied his stance. Even now, frustrated as he was, he was still willing to try, to learn, to listen. And that made it all the more difficult when he failed again, and again, and then again after that, slamming into the ground from the exertion of the energies with an angry cry.

"You have to trust, Loki," she said, pain welling in her breast as she watched him slump on the ground staring darkly at his hands. "You will never travel between the shadows if you do not trust the darkness."

"I will never travel anywhere, mother." A surge of power flew from his hands as he stood, snapping the branches clean off of a nearby tree. When he turned to look at her, the disappointment and anger were so evident in his features that her already-fragile heart broke at the sight. "I cannot do this. I cannot do this."

"Yes you can. These spells require practice –"

"And time. Time that we do not have." The world around them seemed to hush, balancing on the precipice of her son's fury. He swallowed thickly, staring at her. "You were wrong. This magic is not innate and I am no better than the mages who serve the court. This is a waste of time."

"Was it not at your own insistence that these spells be taught to you?"

"Only because you said you needed my help." She noted that his hands were trembling – from the cold? From anger? "But yet again I have proven myself to be worthless, even in that which I have always prided myself in. Mother please, please tell me why we have not yet returned to the woods? What are we waiting for?"

Nothing, my dear one. I am merely buying us time.

"Numerous things," she found herself saying instead, shame manifesting in an ugly burn in her chest. "I need you to learn patience, Loki."

"Patience?" he snapped, indignant. "Patience for what?"

"For this." She gestured around them, watching with growing alarm as his chest heaved. "Let's try again. I think if you – "

"No." His response was harsher than he had meant; she could see it in the way he paused for a moment, blinking. "No. I know enough. The time of preparation has come to an end. I want to see father, and tell him that I am returning to Myrkviðr. I will go alone if I must, but I will find Thor."

"You will not." His shoulders stiffened and it felt undeniably colder all of a sudden. "Loki Odinson, you are not going to endanger already-fragile plans or your own life simply because you are impatient."

"Impatient? Impatient?" he said incredulously. A sudden gust of wind whipped between them, moving the dark tendrils of his hair across his cheeks. "How could you –"

"I made you a promise, did I not?" He stared at her, face betraying nothing. "That all of this would soon make sense. Do you not trust me?" A pause, a silence, a beat too long before he spoke.

"I do."

"Then let us continue." She had only just summoned her magic when Loki shook his head.

"No. No, I want to see father."

"He is not here, Loki. He left this morning to visit Aoife."

"The sorcerer?" Suspicion crept into his voice. "Why?"

"You already know why." Silence hung thickly between them for several, terse seconds. When he spoke again, his tone was measured but brittle.

"Does father know?" She sighed under her breath, casting away her magic once more.

This should not be how he found out.

"Yes, Loki. He knows."

"How long?" he asked quickly and something squirmed in her gut. "Mother, how long has he known?"

"Loki, if you would just –"

"How long," he said again, stepping nearer, "has he known?" She knew she did not need to answer; his piercing gaze searched her features and it felt, suddenly, as if he knew everything she'd ever kept from him.

"Since last week," she said softly. She watched the snow fall for a moment before settling her eyes on her son. She did not know, truly, what else she had been planning to say; she knew only that her words died on her tongue at the sight of Loki's sudden shallow breaths, the crumpling of his features and the utter devastation within his eyes.

"Last week," he barked out, rubbing the back of his hand over his mouth. "Last week, before Arenwood, before I came to him with my concerns and he…he treated me as a fool, I do not – "

"Loki, please." His eyes moved past her, staring furiously at the moving snow. "It is not what you think."

It is so much worse.

"And you didn't tell me." Something dangerous edged into his voice then – she could not stand the sense of betrayal it awakened in her. "You didn't tell me that he knew. Instead I was allowed to traverse alone with the imposter to Arenwood where he could have killed me –"

"Loki, no –"

"Enough!" She startled. She could not remember a time before when he had raised his voice at her like this. "Do not deny it. Do not defend, do not smother me with vague generalities to ease my true suspicions. If father has gone to Aoife again, the very sorcerer he first sought counsel with when we wanted to return to Myrkviðr together, that can only mean that he plans it again." His voice mellowed, but only just. "Father is going to return, and you kept this from me. Father knew Thor had not returned and he did not tell me, did not even deign to grace me with so much as a hint when I returned frantic from the ill-fated hunt last week. The only question now is why…why." He looked at her again, breathing heavily.

She knew better than to speak.

"Is this but a distraction?" The wind picked up again sending frenzied whirls of snow dancing across the courtyard, seemingly matching the rising emotion in her son. "Is this but a smokescreen so that I will finally feel like I am participating while the true action occurs behind closed doors? Has another party already been set to the woods to fetch my brother while I learn parlor tricks in my backyard? Was it a ruse, mother? Are you placating me?"

It was one of those rare moments she despised his keen level of understanding; already he was unraveling their plans bit by bit but this was not how she had wanted him to find out. Not at all. "Of course not, my son. Your aid is critical in finding your brother."

"But not my direct efforts, isn't that right?" His tone was biting now, cruel – hurt. She was surprised somehow at the sight of tears in his eyes…they did not match his angry voice. "Secrets, lies, magic. It is odd that those areas are considered my forte, and yet you and father have utilized them to make plans without me."

"We want only to protect you." There was so much he did not understand. "Loki, you could have died on more than one occasion facing this thing. Your father is not willing to gamble with your life again, and neither am I. You must understand this. We are not willing to risk losing you."

"Three days," he shot back, punctuating the misplaced statement with three fingers. "Three days, mother. That is how long I have been awake. You could have told me. You could have told me that he knew, that you were not planning on letting me leave here and instead you…you lied to me."

"I did not lie to you," she said warningly.

"You let me believe I could help," he said, lip trembling. "And therein lies no difference."

"What would you have me say to you?" She summoned her magic once more, refusing to take her eyes off of him. "Why do you think I teach you, Loki? Why do you think my desires for you untrue? To fool you? To deceive you?" She let the energies dissipate in sparks around them, shaking her head sadly. "I cannot fathom this mistrust you have."

"Then tell me." He wiped angrily at his eyes and stepped away from her. "Tell me what you and father have planned."

"I cannot do that just yet," she said softly, hating how his face fell.

"Then you need not say another word."

"Loki I want you to learn this." She stared at him intently, throwing her hands up in a despairing gesture. "I want you to be equipped, and to grow, so that this being may not ever have the chance again to catch you unawares."

"Only as a recourse," he said grimly, shaking his head. "You never planned on allowing me to return to the woods."

"Your father –"

"Is cruel." The words seemed to surprise even him. He choked out an angry sob and ran his hands through his hair again, turning away from her. "I cannot be…what he wants. But it is not for lack of trying."

"Your father does not want you to be anyone but you." Tears threatened in her own eyes and she exhaled shakily, watching his hands fidget at his sides.

How had it come to this?

"Why did he not come to see me?" Frigga paused, momentarily speechless at this unexpected inquiry. He looked over his shoulder at her, dazzling green against the snowy trees, shining with unshed tears. "You said I could have perished, that his concern lies with my life. Yet I have not seen him since he so easily disregarded me in the halls last week."

"He is under great pressure," she said gently, heart dropping in her chest as he took another step away from her. "Do not speak of your father as if he is your enemy in all of this, Loki. There is a purpose –"

"To everything he does?" he cut her off. "Tell me, what purpose was there in father acting as if I do not even exist?"

"That is not what is happening."

"Then what is?" He cleared his throat, trying to regain control. "What is?"

"Planning." He opened his mouth to speak again but she held up a hand. "This is not as simple as it looks. We do not face an enemy of mere flesh and blood. There are tactics that must be employed, ancient magics that must be sought out and utilized. We are in a precarious state, my son. If the imposter were to find out what we were doing, all would be lost. Do you understand me? All." She sounded harsh, even in her own ears – yet Loki's gaze never wavered. "You may believe this or not, but withholding these plans from you keeps you safe. This beast enjoys toying with you, for reasons yet unknown. As long as your knowledge is kept to a minimum, you will not be a target."

"Lest I slip up as I usually do." A foreign darkness flashed in his eyes. "You do not trust me, but it matters not. I drew the beast to me once and I can do it again." He leveled her with a biter stare and the breath caught in her lungs. "My life for his. Since it matters so little to father anyway."

"Please don't do this." It felt suddenly like she was falling, falling, falling. She knew what he meant – she knew what little regard he held for himself, all due to a sought-after approval he felt he could not gain. If only she could tell him – if he could only see –

"I could find him," he bit out. "If you would only let me." And just like that, he was gone. She stared at the place where he'd been standing for only a moment before a sob wracked her body, distress weighing her down heavy where she stood.

"That is why we can't," she whispered. Her eyes slipped shut against the cold and she mourned, silently, for all the pain her son and husband had endured without the other ever knowing.

He just needed time to think it over.

He was furious.

The sound of his footsteps pounding down the familiar hallways rang like war drums in his ears; he was practically running, though he knew not where. He just had to be away. Had to be away from mother for awhile, the magic, his failure, everything. Betrayal stung like poison in his veins and though he wanted to rationalize it, he simply couldn't.

He couldn't.

Be not so smug, Loki. There is no honor in your lies or trickery.

His skin was still burning from his frantic teleportation; having landed in the middle of the throne room in an undignified heap, he had practically fled from the place lest Heimdall turn his gaze and set the whole palace into a frenzy. The strain on his magic, coupled with the fact that he hadn't done it correctly, made him feel weak and disoriented which only served to infuriate him more.

After everything he had done – after everything he had seen, before any of them –

There is something you are not telling me, Loki, and your dishonesty both disgusts and riles me.

It hurt. There was entirely too much to process: an obvious return to the woods, but one that did not involve him. Mother's cryptic hints as to whatever was coming next, her dishonesty, father's noted absence. His own lagging health, weaknesses, shortcomings.

Did he truly matter so little to them?

He found himself walking down an ancient wing of the palace and turned sharply to the right to head back to the main corridors. No, no, no. This simply couldn't be. Mother had intercepted his dreams and had told him that his magic was to be utilized in the fight against the beast, hadn't she? That he had had something to contribute. That he could do something to find his brother, after he had been the cause of his disappearance in the first place.

Do not ever interrupt such matters with this madness again.

Thor. Still missing, his fate unknown. He hated how easily everyone had seemed to forget this. Be patient, be patient – and for what? To watch the hours tick away? To quietly tolerate the imposter in their midst while halted plans were made behind closed doors? What if he had been the one to disappear? They would have allowed Thor to come find him, surely. And even if they hadn't, Thor would have gone anyway. Because he was brave, and he was his brother, and that is what they did. No questions asked.

And here he was, well over a month since Thor had up and disappeared and they were sitting here agonizing over details –

We need you, my son. We need your insights, your power –

The candlelit halls blurred in his periphery as confusion flared alongside his rage. Without breaking his stride, he turned and slammed a hand into a marble pillar. Sparks of muted magic danced along his fingertips as he hit it again and again, watching with some detached satisfaction as his knuckles tore and trickles of blood smeared angry red against polished marble. Useless, useless, he was useless. No matter what he did, it would be the wrong choice. He could not risk endangering the rescue of his brother if he acted in haste, nor could he tolerate this pacification on his mother's part. If they would just trust him –

"Is that truly necessary?"

His hands stilled along with his body and numerous reactions manifested themselves in his mind's eye. Is there a point in being calm? he suddenly wondered. In being reasonable? What use is it when it is not compared with Thor's brashness?

"I thought you were away," he bit out in reply, turning to eye the man standing before him. He was dressed in a riding cloak and looked tired – worn. Loki could not find it within himself to care.

"I've only just returned." Father eyed the pillar for a moment before turning his gaze on him. "What has prompted this attack on the foundation of my palace?"

"I am in no jesting mood." Loki squared his shoulders, making no effort to quell his rising temper. "After all I have done, after all I have seen, you still would deny me my rightful place at your side. You, who would claim concern over my life, were still more than willing to send me out like a lamb to slaughter last week and even then you could not find the time to tell me yourself." Silence draped over the two of them as Loki shook his head, waiting for any kind of reaction in his father's face.

Yet the king remained entirely impassive.

"What would you have me say?" he finally replied and Loki could actually feel the last vestige of his reasonableness melt away beneath the fire of his fury.

"I would have you tell me why," he snapped, coiling the full force of his magic into his core lest he lose control. "I would have you treat me as an equal, instead of a plaything when it comes to the next steps we are undertaking. Why the secrecy, father? What are you keeping from me?"

"I find it strange that this is your first line of questioning towards me after your ordeal last week," father stated, eyeing him coldly.

"And I find it strange that you will not answer me." Something seemed to warp in his heart as father sighed, looking past him out the window.

"How do you fare, Loki?" As if by traitorous reply, his vision swam.

"Not again," he barked out. He pointed a finger, full aware that he was treading in dangerous waters doing this with both parents in the same hour. "I will not be cast aside, not when there is so much at stake. Answer me, damn it, answer me!"

"Answer what? You have done little but bark at me like a feral dog."

"Tell me why you were visiting Aoife." His voice rang out in the corridor, empty and hoarse, reaching no one. Father said nothing but something shifted in his eyes and it was then Loki barked out a laugh, cutting himself off sharply to reply. "Ah, was I not supposed to know that? Was I just supposed to stay outside under mother's guiding hand, learning cute tricks while you set out to Myrkviðr without me? Do I truly matter so little to you, that after what was supposedly a near-death experience you could not even grace me with a visit?"

"There is no – "

"Action," Loki seethed, "is all I have longed for since this ordeal began. I have trusted you long enough, waited for you long enough, forgiven your suspicions against me, only to realize that nothing I ever said or did mattered. But did you ever think that the life of my brother – that his safe return – was just as important to me as it is to you?" The rising swell of his voice died out in a hushed whisper and he angrily wiped the tears away, hating it all, hating father, hating himself. Silence fell once more and he thought of magic, and his mistakes. The simplicity of life but a few short weeks ago.

He thought of Thor.

Stranded somewhere while he screamed and waited for others to act, like he was a spoilt infant.

And still nothing, nothing. Father said nothing. He remained as unreadable as ever as Loki heaved and sputtered, anger and shame and humiliation enveloping him whole as the silence stretched, just as it had all those weeks ago when he'd begged for his father's forgiveness. It didn't matter. He didn't matter.

He'd never been a part of the solution here anyway. Only the problem.

"I will not let you do this. Not again." He shoved his way past, wondering what would happen now, if he would be forced to stay here again. He wondered, distantly, if mother would be disappointed. He wondered how it was possible that he hadn't seen this before – that nothing was ever going to be the same again. Some tie had been undeniably severed between he and his parents; a wound had been dealt that even Thor's return could not rectify.

It was as terrifying as it was freeing, and he did not know which he feared more.

"What had you been hoping for, Loki?" He stopped in his tracks, heart hammering in his chest.

"Nothing," his traitorous lips spoke, even as his hands trembled at his sides. "Absolutely nothing."

"Do not lie to me. There is hardly time for that." Fresh tears swelled and he inhaled sharply, refusing to turn around and so grace his king with the respect he did not deserve.

"To find my brother." He could feel father's eyes upon his back and he swallowed, biting his tongue as bitter tears fell. "With you. That is what I hoped for."

He fled then, like the coward he was.

He collapsed in a private alcove before anyone could see the tears.

It was not until later that evening when Loki heard the knock upon his door.

He eyed the offensive entry sourly, pulling his nightshirt over his head. No one had sought him out after the day's frenzied episodes and he had been grateful for the solitude. Holed up in his chambers, he had done nothing else but practice his spells under a cloaking spell to keep away from the imposter. As it was, he was now exhausted and in no mood for company.

"Who is it?" he called out hoarsely, lighting another candle with a flick of his wrist. His room was almost entirely dark, as he'd been preparing for bed prior to this unwelcome interruption.

"Your father," came the muffled reply on the other side of the wall and he froze. Loki gazed at the flickering flame he had just ignited and quietly grieved that it was too late to pretend to be asleep.

What in Hel was father doing here?

Irritation settled swiftly in his gut as he went and opened the door, wondering if he had simply waited to deliver his punishment until now. Father looked menacing in the darkened hallway, but Loki refused to speak first. They stared at each other for a full minute until father raised an eyebrow at him.

"Am I permitted to enter?"

By way of response, Loki merely stepped aside and stared blankly at the wall as he passed through. What are you doing here? he longed to ask, forcing himself to calmly shut the door in his wake. If he was to be stranded here again, so be it. He would not beg for father's pity this time, nor would he brazenly offer his help. To Hel with him and his "plans."

"Your mother tells me you are angry with me." Loki's eyes shifted upward, watching as Father picked up a book that was sitting on his nightstand. He bit on the tip of his tongue to stop himself from saying anything. "That my absence has caused you great unhappiness." Loki stared at his backside, mouth slightly agape, wondering if father had completely lost his senses. "For that I am truly sorry, my son. But there have been matters, both pressing and sensitive to the passage of time that I absolutely had to deal with. I do want you to know that these efforts have not been in vain, and that we are well on the way to finding Thor." Father placed the book down and turned to look at him. "And so I have come to see you."

"So you have." Loki tapped the sides of his thighs with his fingertips, attempting to stay calm. "Though it leaves one wondering why."

"As you know, I went and visited Aoife this afternoon." Loki cleared his throat and looked away. "We are returning to Myrkviðr in two days' time and she will be accompanying us. Her power will break the hold cast over that ghastly place and Thor will be returning home. I am sure of it." Tears were threatening again at the repetition of the "us" that he knew did not include himself. Why bother with this, father?"I would like you to speak with Aoife and share with her what you shared with your mother concerning your dealings with the beast, starting with Myrkviðr and ending with last week at Arenwood." Loki paused, his frenzied thoughts momentarily grinding to a halt.

"Arenwood?" he repeated. His eyes shifted towards father once more. "What do you mean? I only encountered the beast at Myrkviðr."

"I am afraid you did not." Father's head shook, almost imperceptively. "The beast you fought and the imposter among us are one and the same, Loki. We've a shapeshifter amongst us."

Any response died in his throat. Father stared at him, sighed softly, and continued speaking.

"That is but one piece of intelligence I have gathered these last, long weeks. I believe your mother has shared the importance of subterfuge throughout these dealings, and my meeting with the ambassadors from Vanaheim last week – the one you interrupted – was of great import. It has come to my attention that you felt slighted by my response, but it was necessary. Though you thought you had returned alone, I caught sight of the imposter as we made our way down the halls. I could not risk detection, Loki. I trust you understand this." Father stared at him, awaiting a reply. Loki jerked out a nod, his head still spinning, trying and failing to calm his swelling temper. "Good. Then it is settled. You will speak with Aoife tomorrow and then we may ready for departure." Father stopped then, his gaze settling on him as if he were just noticing he was there for the first time. "I do hope you know your dealings with the beast and your innate ability are of great value to me, Loki."

He couldn't help himself now; he started to laugh.

"Oh but I must be going mad." Loki wiped his eyes with the heels of his palms and clicked his tongue, shaking his head. "Either that or you must think me incredibly stupid. All things considered, I suppose that is not a total impossibility."

"What is this you are saying?" Loki faced his father fully, wiping the mirth from his features.

"Great value, you say. You speak of the return to Myrkviðr as if you ever actually considered allowing me to go as well. You share valuable information," he said, taking a step forward, "concerning the imposter's true identity as if you were sharing news about the weather. Do bear in mind you allowed me to traverse alone with this creature and didn't give my safety a second thought at that point in time. The paradox is astounding, Father. And then you ask me – you ask me – to give yet another verbal report of my dealings with the beast, I assume to grant me the pleasure of contribution so that you can leave. Without me. Again." Loki threw his hands up. "I rather thought your total indifference earlier today was enough of an answer, but I suppose mother's account won me no favor. " He paused then, swallowing the lump in his throat. "I could be of help to you at your side, father. I could be of great value there."

Several seconds passed in terse silence; father's gaze never wavered and somewhere in the back of his mind, Loki wondered if he'd taken one step too far in speaking this way.

"What did you say?" father finally asked. Loki huffed.

"I said that I could be of value to you. Father, if you would just let me –"

"No," he interrupted, taking a step closer. "Before that. What did you say about my indifference?"

"Your…?" It took everything within him to keep a sneer from his face. "About your indifference earlier this afternoon?"

"Yes." Something about the way he said it made his heart quicken.

"I do not see how that warrants further explanation." Odin balked for a moment, and it was only the words he said next that halted any glee on his part for finally getting a reaction out of him.

"We did not speak today, Loki." Silence again. Something beckoned warningly in his heart and he did not know what it meant.

"Yes…yes we did. In the hall, near the ancient wing of the palace."

"We most certainly did not." Father stared harshly at him now, his single eye bright and piercing in the dim light of his bedroom. "I was in counsel this morning then left the city limits to visit with Aoife for the duration of the afternoon. I have only just returned and came straight to your chambers after speaking with your mother." Loki stared at him, speechless, legs suddenly locked frozen in place as father's voice took on an edge of alarm. "What did you say to him, Loki? What did you say?"

Nothing, he wanted to say but he couldn't, he couldn't speak, couldn't say a word, not when the replay of the meeting flashed before him in stunning, vicious clarity. To find my brother, he heard himself saying, could feel his lips forming those damning words along with all the others that had preceded it.

Information – he had supplied information, he had let it be known that they knew Thor was not among them, he had –

No.

Oh gods no, this couldn't be.

If he hadn't been speaking with father earlier – if he'd been speaking with the imposter, then that could only mean –

If the imposter were to find out what we were doing, all would be lost. Mother's voice now, soft but intent. Do you understand me? All.

"Answer me, Loki! Gods above, what did you do? What did you do?"

What have I done?

In the throes of his fury he'd been blinded…he hadn't seen, he hadn't noticed –

Someone grabbed him by the shoulders and he startled, gasping, as father began to shake him. "Answer. Me." Father was furious now and with good reason – good reason. He had finally done it, he had sent the final nail into Thor's coffin through his own stupidity. Any plans the king had made, vague as they were, were ruined now.

And he had done it.

He had done it…

His own thoughts failed him entirely. It was as if he had descended into a smothering fog and the crushing weight of his own idiocy was killing him, sending his mind into a repetitive spiral. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't see. Father was yelling, that much he knew, but it mattered little now. Thor, Thor, he had killed Thor for real this time. He had inadvertently let the imposter know –

It is too late, brother. Far, far too late.

As if struck by an electric charge, Loki's hands snapped out, shoving father away from him. He fled from his room, running across the familiar tiled halls as if his life depended on it (maybe it did) and he didn't stop until he collided harshly with the door to Thor's chambers. His clumsy fingers, suddenly shaking, opened the door with ease – certainly the thing would have left it locked, or so he had thought – and as he flung it open he thought only gods above, what have I done at the sight that met his gaze.

Thor's double was facing the open window with his arms out at his sides, as if he were about to jump. A controlled whirlwind swirled around him, thick and heavy with the force of his unknown seidr, and the power of it sent Loki to his knees. As if on cue, the thing raised its head and turned to look at him, positively beaming, just as he had last week in the woods. Its eyes flashed blue no longer but instead shifted from red to orange to black – like the fires of Muspelheim –

"Come and find me, little prince." It smiled ever wider as Loki attempted to choke out a reply, shuddering from the dark power this thing had at its disposal. He crawled forward, hand outstretched, but it vanished from view in the very next breath.

And by the time father came bursting through the doorway, there was no evidence anyone else had ever been there, save the lingering scent of lilac quickly dissipating with the breeze.

/

Not to give away any spoilers, but…showdown begins in the next chapter. Stay tuned.