This world would submit. Its tiny crawling masses would bow before him. Worship him. He closed his eyes and relished the sounds of battle as the Chitauri army—his army!—swarmed across the city. He felt the sun warm his skin. He smiled. So this was what it felt like to stand free of shadows.

"Loki!" Thor dropped to the deck below him.

His eyes narrowed. Of course Thor couldn't be trusted to let him enjoy this—just for a moment. No matter. He hadn't really expected his false-brother to stay away. Thor still thought he could persuade him to give all this up and trot obediently back to Asgard in his footsteps as he had always done. Loki snarled as he leveled the scepter at Thor, saying something about there only being the war.

Even as he clashed with Thor, his thoughts ran in distant paths, oddly disconnected from his body and words. The chaos around him ought to have been enjoyable. He could only conjure up mild amusement.

He locked with Thor, Mjolnir pressing down on him.

"Look at this. Look around you. You think this madness will end with your rule?"

The uncomfortable sense of playing this part before wormed through Loki as he looked out at the destruction. The whine of Chitauri speeders and concussion of explosions laced the air with the too familiar sounds of war. He'd been here before. Acrid burn of concrete dust and energy rifle on his tongue and in his nose. Thor, pleading, so desperate to stop it all and save his little ants. Loki knew what was coming. The knife thrust.

"It's too late. It's too late to stop it." He let the desperation creep into his voice. The best lie grew from a sliver of truth. And it was too late, far too late to turn back even if he wished to. Did he wish to, asked a small voice? What else did he have but vengeance and conquest? To think any of his old life—all lies—could ever be reclaimed was ignorant folly. What had he told the Widow? A child at prayer.

"We can together," said Thor. He looked so earnest that for a moment Loki wished to believe him. A doubt wrapped round his thoughts. Thor only had need of him when he was useful to Thor—Loki was no more valued than Mjolnir—less so. Another doubt appeared, carrying clarity that burned through him. Thor would do anything to save his precious human pets.

The cool of the knife settled into Loki's hand. A swift jab to the ribs. Thor wouldn't see it coming—hadn't the first time either. Loki felt a prickling along his spine. The first time. He had done this already. The situation wasn't just similar; he had walked this path before.

Thor gave him a gentle shake. "Brother?"

He'd been silent for too long. The knife was still in his hand, ready to be used. Why not, given what was coming, he couldn't possibly make things worse for himself. Make Thor suffer in any way possible along the way because Loki had long since given up hope of ever truly being Thor's brother. What hope had a Frost Giant in the halls of Asgard? He tried to imagine Thor's face if he knew what he really looked like. Tried to imagine the disgust and rage as Thor saw the blue creep over Loki's skin.

Something like memory tugged at him as he suddenly lost control of his own imaginings. He could see it, the cursed blue on his skin and Thor watching him. But there was no disgust or rage—instead the idiot closed the gap and hugged him.

The knife clattered to the ground as Loki stumbled backwards, hands clutched to his head. It was too late, too late—he'd said the words, now he was supposed to jab in the knife. That's what happened.

"Loki?" questioned Thor as he warily advanced. The presence of the knife probably didn't surprise him as much as it should have, but this behavior seemed to unsettle him. Loki imagined Thor was trying thickly to figure out what kind of trick this was.

"It's happening again," he wheezed, wincing against the pain in his head. Images, feelings, fragments of thought all boiled up from somewhere deep within him. None of it made sense or fit together. What he did know was that he and Thor had been on this rooftop before. But somehow he guessed he wasn't supposed to know that.

"Loki, I do not understand, but we must stop this," said Thor.

"But I didn't, don't you see. I stabbed you and then—then I rolled over the side and later," his eyes went wide, "later I met your Hulk." Things were beginning to slot into place. A faded whisper echoed through his mind, Make mischief my little trickster. He brushed his hand to his forehead.

Thor moved warily, like one did with a skittish horse ready to bolt. Loki could read in his eyes distress and confusion over this new tune of madness, but there was pity and compassion there too. Unfortunately there was also the slow decision forming to incapacitate Loki before his ravings swung in another direction. Of course, fix the problem by hitting it—typical Thor. Loki's raised hand halted his brother's advance.

"This isn't madness, just—just let me think." Thor's expression was dubious at best. Loki rolled his eyes and tossed his scepter to Thor, "take it if it will make you feel better—but for pity's sake don't lose it. We'll need it before we're through."

Pacing across the glass strewn balcony, he ignored the way the shards ground beneath his boots. This world was wrong—had been for some time. When had he first felt that he'd lived all this before? When the Hawk had noticed his weakness? His deal with the Other? The Void?

No. Jotunheim. The moment he and the others emerged from the Bifrost, the sense of repetition nearly overwhelmed him. He'd traveled the realm of ice and darkness before—but what realm hadn't he visited in his solitary explorations—but he knew that all six of them had never ventured to the Frost Giants' home. And yet a thrill of recognition had coiled up his spine.

That was the first time. Since then so much of life had unfolded in a seemingly predestined pattern, more and more frequently Loki felt that he was somehow repeating himself. But with the knife at his feet, the nagging knowledge that he'd done all this before no longer pressed against his thoughts. He was making new choices now—somehow things had changed. And Loki got the distinct impression he'd thrown a serious wrench in someone's plans.

"Loki?" Thor questioned.

"Ah yes, the battle." He glanced over the edge of the balcony. He grimaced in mock concern, "it doesn't seem to be going well. You might want to think about closing that," he pointed at the rift in the sky belching Chitauri drones and Leviathan.

Thor's face bunched up in anger. He was well on his way to the furious indignation he'd been sporting so often lately. Loki grinned, throwing up his hands as the larger man began to march toward him. "Take the staff to the generator—I allowed that scientist of yours to build in a loophole."

"Allowed?" asked Thor, glancing down at the glowing staff in his hand. Clearly he wondered what form of misdirection this could be. "Where are you going?" he asked as Loki sauntered toward the lounge.

"To pour myself a drink," Loki called over his shoulder, "and wait for the powers that be to show themselves." Thor made no move to follow Loki's instructions, or to rejoin the fight, his grip growing ever tighter round the staff. "Tick-tock, brother. I doubt your human friends will last much longer." He didn't bother watching for Thor's decision, rather he made for Stark's bar, rummaging through the bottles until he'd found something with enough kick to make up for the repulsive flavor. He downed three glasses in quick succession. Vile.

The sounds of battle seemed somewhat less intense than they had mere moments before—it would seem Thor and that Selvig fellow had managed to slam the rift in the Chitauri's faces. He smiled a bit and poured himself another glass. The Other would have been furious. Since the Chitauri had sent nothing but drones, he imagined that those trapped on this side likely neurally short-circuited when they found themselves so suddenly ripped from the center of their hive minds. Perhaps one or two could overcome the sudden loss of instruction, purpose, and togetherness brought by their dependency on the queens. But even an average human ought to be able to deal with them in the state of confusion and withdrawal the drone would experience.

That left him as the only remaining threat, and he doubted they'd leave him be for long. Certainly not long enough to order his thoughts. "Pity." He wandered over to the couch, dropping down and propping his feet up on one end and staring at the ceiling as he lay back. Idly he tossed the empty tumbler in the air, catching it, only to flick it spinning upwards again. Allowing the action to fall into pattern, Loki slowed his breathing, focusing on dropping all the walls he'd erected between conscious thought and—what he'd thought—were nothing more than unnerving visions. He embraced these snatches of thought and memory. A whole other life began to slot together. Foremost in these images was a plain, human child—and the emotions attached to this child swept over Loki in a confused slurry of guilt, anger, exasperation, amusement, and—fondness.

Boots on the stairs. Ah, so the Avengers were here at last.

Loki ignored them. Something about the child seemed important. He knew he had never seen him before, and yet he had. Narrowing his focus, he turned all his attention to the child's face, trying to imagine the sound of his voice. Suddenly, his thoughts shifted, as if someone were tugging them away. Digging in, Loki latched onto the image. The boy was the key. If only he could remember his name.

The Avenger's burst into the room. He refused to be distracted, even as Clint pressed the tip of an arrow into his forehead. Suddenly, Loki smiled.

"Book," he said calmly. The image in his mind grinned back.

A shriek of rage split the air as the world around him shattered, dropping away like shards of stained glass. Stark tower vanished, as did the Avengers—all save Thor. Asgard's golden pillars faded through into substance, the people shifting in unease. Odin and Frigga stood tall upon the dais, seemingly unfazed by the sudden shift in reality. The rigidness in his mother's stance betrayed an unease she would not show to her people. Book's head hung heavily between his legs as he shook it back and forth slowly as if to rid himself of lingering sickness.

Verthandi crouched within the disintegrating web of her tapestry, a predatory tenseness quivering through her. The prismic threads shattered into a sparkling shower. Scintilla faded into ashy flakes as it rained down on the assembly. Verthandi's gaze followed the drifting ash to where it settled on Loki's hair and shoulders. A guttural howl tore from her throat as she launched herself across the room, slamming him to the ground. She loomed over the prince, pinning him to the marble floor.

"It is ruined!" she snarled, hatred lacing her words.

"Oops." Loki knew it was the wrong thing to say, and yet the incensed look that crystallized on Verthandi's face made it worthwhile. It was a look that promised she would tear out his throat with her teeth.

"Burn the prophecies! You die now." Her taloned hands screamed downwards.

Several things happened at once. Thor surged forward while a spell nestled in Frigga's hand. Neither of them was close enough. Book was.

The Norn tumbled across the floor in a tangle of limbs. Regaining her feet, she slid to a stop, her talons screeching across the golden floor to slow herself. She looked up with murderous rage at the wolf that had barreled into her. Bristling and three times the size he had been a moment before, Book stood protectively over Loki, front feet planted firmly to either side of him. White sabers showed against the red of his mouth as his lips peeled back in a snarl.

Loki looked up in surprise. He propped himself up on his elbows and craned back to be able to see up the broad chest to part of Book's face. Book glanced down, confusion darted through him to match Loki's own. Neither of them had expected this.

Thor drew up next to Book, his hammer raised against the Weaver. "Do not think he stands alone."

Verthandi straightened her robes with a sharp tug. A blade of laughter cut across the room, "Always the fool, Odinson. You do not know what it is you protect."

Thor raised his chin defiantly. "I protect my brother." He pointedly ignored Loki's sigh. "Till the end of all things if I must."

A terrifying, serpentine smile twisted across Verthandi's face, almost tearing the skin across her skull. "Oh, you won't make it quite that long, Thunderer."

"Enough." Urd's quiet words sliced through the scene. Yggdrasil's power flowed through the voice, bending everyone to its will. "You forget yourself, sister. Do not let the ways of mortals poison your actions."

Verthandi stiffened as she turned to face her sister. "You can't possibly allow this," she growled. "This thing," she pointed in disdain at Loki, "has ruined the threads—they will never take that pattern again."

"Then it seems we have little choice but to trust Skuld. Let us see what our little sister can do." A quiet affirmation rested in the statement that brought Skuld's head up in surprise. Urd nodded to her. "Come, Verthandi, your threads need tending. It will take all your skill to weave this new tale."

Stiff backed with anger, Verthandi cut back to her snarled web, teeth clenched so tightly Loki could have sworn he heard them crack. She offered no farewell or polite acknowledgement. As she stalked past Skuld she halted just at her sister's shoulder and hissed out a string of words too soft for others to hear. The subtle tightness around the Scribe's mouth and the pale hurt that sank into her face made the general content of the words clear enough.

"Play with your nest of vipers then and scrawl out your childish fantasies," said Verthandi as she pulled away from her sister like someone whipping away from a particularly vile smell. Reaching upward and outward with all four arms, she gave a swift cutting movement and the heart of Yggdrasil vanished back into the high hall of Asgard. Conjuring sparking threads, she looped them quickly through the air around herself, pulled them tight and vanished in a curl of brightness.

Skuld watched the spot with something that almost resembled hurt. When Urd drew beside her to look at the same spot where their sister had been, she gently brushed the back of her hand against Skuld's. "Do not despair. Her anger will fade and she will see the value of your work. Perhaps in a few hundred years."

The Dreamer turned back toward the dais and gave a slight incline of her head. "May this be the last time the Norns so intrude upon your lives. I bid you well, young Odin, young Frigga." She focused especially on Odin, "you would do well to heed my sister's council."

While her words still echoed across the vastness of the assembled Asgardians, Urd seemed to soften and pale, then simply blow away like dust scattered by the breeze. Her words robbed everyone of speech. No one seemed able to process what had just transpired before them. The fates themselves had come down and waged a battle of wills, and all over the Trickster. How was it that he could be a tipping point of history? What madness it was.

"Well…that was entertaining."

The Allmother smiled fondly and shook her head. Of course it would be Loki to first shake off the air of uncanniness that still clung to the hall. The boy-wolf rolled his eyes and shared a commiseratory glance with Thor. The queen noted the connection. She had not expected such—as she understood it, the boy had spent only a short amount of time with Thor.

She placed a hand on Odin's arm. "Perhaps what is to be done ought to be resolved more privately?"

Odin nodded. The weight of what he had just witnessed did not drain any power from his voice as it boomed out across the chamber. "People of Asgard, these days are strange indeed when the Norns walk among us," he paused, very much aware of Skuld's continued presence. "Let us do them the honor they deserve and consider what we have been privileged to see. I must speak with the prince." The throng bowed like wind blowing over a field of grass as the royal family adjourned the grand throne room.

"You'll be walking on two legs again soon," said Loki as he followed the retreating golden forms of his one-time parents. He tried to ignore the guards that had fallen in on either side of him. And behind him. And behind the guards themselves. It was really quite flattering that they thought him such a threat even unarmed and next to naked in his Midgardian attire. The giant wolf at his side might have had something to do with it as well.

"I do not understand," said Thor, suddenly falling in stride with Loki. With Thor at his side he felt much more like the Einherjar served as an honor guard than as jailers escorting a prisoner.

"That is not unusual."

Book snorted. Thor frowned in response.

"I appear to have become somewhat of an object of interest for the Norns," said Loki. He glanced up at the golden visages of kings past as they flowed down the corridor. How many times had he trailed behind the king and queen through these very halls. There behind Bor's raised battleaxe he had spent many an hour sequestered away from the world, or hiding from Thor and the Warriors Three after a particularly successful prank.

"Is what they said true? Will you really usher in Ragnarock?" rumbled Thor.

Loki was surprised to see concern there. "So says Yggdrasil."

"And you've have known all this time?" Thor shook his head wearily. "That is a heavy burden to bear." The look in his eyes said that it was one he judged Loki's shoulders far too slender to hold. Old barbs tore at Loki as he fell short once more of a standard so far beyond his reach as to be impossible. But Thor's hand resting briefly on his shoulder was not one of condescension. Loki peered at his brother, tearing down the veils of bitterness that so often clouded his vision where Thor was concerned. The set of the mouth, the slight stoop of the shoulders. This was the worry of an older brother who would forever see his little brother bearing the hardships of the world.

A wetness against his hand brought his attention to Book who had offered a reassuring lick. "Less heavy than I once thought." He glanced at the Norn gliding just outside his range of vision.

Ahead, guards in flowing cloaks bowed low as they opened the great door to the lesser throne room. Smaller than the vast reaches of the grand throne room, this columned hall served for more intimate day to day functions and the less formal tasks of state. Though comparatively less grand, its vast ceiling still arched far overhead and the sun flared through the crystal inset behind Odin's throne. Asgard did nothing small.

Nearly as one, Odin and Frigga turned in a swirl of fluttering fabric to face the group. At a nod from the queen, the doors were shut, though the guards remained. Skuld drew to the side, watching. There was permission in her watchfulness and Frigga proceeded without consulting the Norn.

"Shall we first see to the boy?" she suggested.

"His testimony may be needed before we pass judgment," said Odin, face still closed against his younger son.

"You'll find him quite willing to regale you with my many faults," said Loki.

Frigga came and knelt before Book. She gave him a reassuring smile. "There may be pain, or at least discomfort. You may also feel as if someone else is invading your self. I swear that I will only come so far as is needed to guide you back to your true form." She placed a hand upon his head. "Be at peace and focus everything on what it felt to be you. To stand upon two legs, to feel the wind against your skin, to…"she trailed off as a glow enveloped her hand. She looked for Loki, a question in her eyes.

"To hold a book in your hands," he supplied.

A quivering shudder ran the length of the boy's form, setting every hair on end. His tail curled tightly against him and a low whine escaped his throat. Frigga placed her other hand on his chest and turned her face to the ceiling, eyes closed. Book's form seemed to shrink and fold in upon itself, hair vanishing or falling off in tufts. There was nothing smooth about it, and the whine turned to a throaty groan as he hovered between the two forms like a grotesque abstract.

"Just a bit more," encouraged Frigga. "Feel the memory in your bones."

With fits and starts the wolfish features slid away, until nothing but the boy's trembling form remained. He crouched, braced against the floor as his head hung between his shoulders. Frigga's hand remained there, gently stroking. "Well done, young one." Her fingers lingered especially on the black streak.

Thor pulled his cloak from his shoulders and swirled the fabric around Book's bare form. His fingers clutched at the cloak as he finally raised his head, the light in his green eye fading.

No one but Skuld noticed the swift stiffening of Loki's spine or the tightness around his eyes that spoke of pained recognition. The changes were subtle, the slightest adjustment, but the changes were there nonetheless. This was not the same Book who had tried once more to run from his problems.

This Book wasn't human.

A mortal might foolishly mistake an Aesir or Vanir for human, but the reverse could never be true. The eyes of an immortal were too keen for that—if they knew what to look for. And Loki knew. Perhaps more unsettling was a familiar hungry leanness that had shaved away some of the roundness of Book's face. Shadows pooled around his eyes and in their depths the wolf stalked.

Skuld looked on this new creature with pride and the cunning of a gamester seeing yet another piece fall in line. Loki wondered what she could possibly have dreamed where Book's unnatural state was worth smiling over. Her pleasure did nothing to reassure him.

After a few experimental breaths to steady himself, Book managed a wan smile and looked up at Frigga. "Thank you." He coughed and cleared his throat.

She let her hand rest warmly on his head. "I think you will find in the long run that it is I who owe you thanks."

Book's confusion didn't quite coalesce into words as he frowned at the Allmother. Loki likewise turned a shrewd eye on his mother. A look which she returned with one of her own ladened with a secret Loki couldn't quite puzzle out. It was certainly one which seemed to bring her both joy and quiet amusement as she smiled at her younger son.

"Are you well, Book?" asked Thor as he helped the child to his feet, steadying him when he swayed. Taking a great swallow, Book nodded, then frowned and raised one shoulder, grunting noncommittally.

The urge to close the distance between them and check Book over himself snatched at Loki with far more force than he had been expecting. His eyes told him that the boy was not ill, if not in the best of shape. But suddenly he did not trust his eyes and he wanted to actually place his hand on that slight shoulder and feel that the life within his body really did run smoothly. This ran deeper than sentiment—this draw stemmed from his magic flaring within Book as the wolfblood settled into the recesses. That piece of himself called out.

The sensation of eyes drew his gaze to Skuld. There was a kind of glee in her expression that made Loki feel as if he ought to be armed. It was the glee of the hunter as his quarry steps within range of the bowstring. Loki had the distinct impression that things were not going to go well for him.

The rap of Gungnir brought their attention to the Allfather as he stood, drenched in the light of the dying day. Frigga gave Book's shoulder another comforting squeeze and then retired to her husband's side. She sought his eye, fingers gently brushing against his as she took her place beside the throne. Rare it was for the Queen to remind her king that she too had a say in these proceedings—though ultimately it would be the Allfather's decision.

Loki folded his hands behind his back and raised his head—perhaps a bit too obstinately if his mother's expression was anything to go by. It was a look that warned him not to make it worse. A delicately arched eyebrow answered her concerns. Now, mother, when have I ever done such a thing? If she had not been a queen, he imagined she would have sighed.

He squared his shoulders and faced Odin, ready for the anger and disdain. Ready for the disownment. He really hadn't gotten much of it the first time the Allfather had stood in judgment. That time his one-time father had been unnaturally silent and dismissive, barely looking at his erstwhile son. There had only been the command to lock the prisoner—and that was all Odin had referred to Loki as—in a cell that would keep him until a suitable punishment could be deliberated upon. And in that cell Loki had waited—never getting to hear the verdict due to Skuld's interference. He had imagined the scene a hundred different ways and he was curious as to which scenario would play out before him

Odin surprised him.

"Oh, Loki." He sank into his throne, almost as careworn as when Loki had driven him into the Odinsleep. "What are we to do with you?"

Loki involuntarily looked to Thor to make sure he'd heard correctly. The shock on his brother's face at the Allfather's admission meant that he wasn't the only one to hear it. In all their hundreds of years, Odin had been a rock—one that Loki had made a habit of flinging himself against time and again despite it never moving—and always knew his own mind and what he planned to do. Odin Allfather did not question, did not sit like a man lost, unsure of which branching path to take. He strode with confidence, never doubting his decisions, and never doubting the road beneath his feet.

"If I may suggest," said Skuld, sliding forward with that same gleeful expression, "consulting with the wisdom of the Norns?"

A tired, knowing smile hovered around Odin's lips. "And what would the Norns advise?"

Skuld stood before the king and conjured a string of runes that settled in his palm. His eye grew distant as he considered the future Skuld proposed. The rigidity of his posture said that he did not approve of what he saw.

"Have courage, brother." Thor rested his hand on Loki's shoulder.

A few weeks before, and Loki would have shrugged the hand away. Instead he left it there, conscious of the warmth radiating out from the weight of it. "Despite what you have always thought, courage is not something I lack." He paused, thumb tracing circles along his palm. "What would you do if it were you upon that throne?" he asked beneath his breath.

Thor looked at him sharply, his grip tightening slightly, but not falling away as Loki had expected. Thor seemed to be deeply considering the question. "Though I would wish away your crimes these past years, I cannot. The blood upon you must be answered for. And what wer-gild could be asked? Even to die would not balance the scales." Thor's solemnity lightened some as he glanced at Book, huddled nervously off to the side, clearly uncomfortable with the proceedings. "And yet I see that the brother I once knew is not fully lost to me."

"Though I am impressed to hear you speak with such eloquence and with so many thoughts strung together," Loki glanced pointedly at his brother, "that is no answer."

"Your debt cannot be paid," Thor took a steadying breath, "but I would see you strive to do it nonetheless. And that, I think, would be my sentence. That you spend the rest of your days—in whatever ways possible—using your skills to safeguard the people of Midgard and Jotunheim."

Loki blinked in surprise. He couldn't say it was truly what he deserved, but there was a certain kind of wisdom in it. Perhaps Thor may yet make a king of Asgard worthy of the throne.

"So be it, Skuld of the Norns," said Odin suddenly, "though I do not yet see what it is that you do."

"Is it little wonder, Allfather? You have but one eye and two sons. Is it so strange that one should not share as fully in your gaze?"

There was a reprimand in her words which Odin accepted with a stiff nod before rising to his feet. He stood now as a king, Gungnir gripped in judgment. "Loki…Odinson."

Loki's head snapped up. Odinson.

"There is no punishment, no act in this universe that can right the wrongs you have wrought. You have razed cities, and irrevocably wreaked a world, torn into the roots of a realm and shattered it. What price could be placed upon the countless dead that lay at your feet? What amount of penance could wash the blood from your hands? The Law calls for your death and the spirits of the dead clamor for justice to be done." Here Odin paused, gaze hard and unflinching. "And it would be justice."

Beside Odin, Frigga stood still and silent as a marble pillar, calm etched into her features. She didn't look at her husband, or even her son. Instead, she kept her eyes fixed on the Norn, even as a tear traced its way down her otherwise impassive face.

Odin's continued. "And yet, a Daughter of the Tree pleads that justice be tempered with mercy because the man standing before me may not be the same man who committed the atrocities. Death will not bring back those caught in your madness." His next words came out clipped and harsh. "So, you shall live in opposition to all your selfish ambitions. No longer will the good and ends of Loki blot out all others. You will live. But you will live for others, not yourself."

Loki fought the urge to glance at Thor. How had he so thoroughly anticipated the Allfather's response? Or had the thought stemmed from Skuld? The Norn's impassive face revealed nothing. Nothing except her knowledge of the direction of Loki's thoughts.

Oh, Odin is still talking, Loki turned his attention back to the Allfather, trying to pick back up the thread of conversation. It didn't seem he'd missed much.

"You will never sit on the throne of Asgard." Odin paused, glowering down at Loki, keen-edged suspicion bright in his one eye. His lips puckered as if he just swallowed something distasteful before he moved on. "You may one day—if you prove worthy of trust—stand behind it and lend your keen mind to Thor's rule. For Jotunheim and for Midgard you will live to do what good you can in those realms—no matter how distasteful you may find this or how unwelcome you are. But most of all," Odin paused, his next words settling like shackles on Loki, "you will live for this boy."

"You have knotted your life so fully with his that the two may never be undone. He cannot return to what life he had on Midgard." Loki's protest died on his lips as the Allfather leveled Gungnir at him. "He is no longer even human. The decades of training it will require for him to be in full control of his newfound abilities fall upon you. This boy's life now rests in your hands—be worthy of it." The doubt as to Loki's worthiness to do anything of the sort laced his voice. If it had not been for Skuld, Loki knew his only course would have been to the dungeons or the executioner.

Odin continued. "Though you have escaped the axe and the cell, do not think that you shall be given your freedom. Approach."

Warily, Loki took the first tier of steps, catching his mother's eye as he passed her. She dipped her head in encouragement. Odin did not descend from the throne to meet him, forcing Loki to rise nearly to the throne itself.

"Kneel."

Gritting his teeth, Loki lowered himself to the top step in an awkward jumble of limbs.

"Your hand." Odin beckoned as he left Gungnir standing upright in the throne.

Slowly, Loki extended his left hand, only to have it gripped tightly by Odin. The Allfather shoved back Loki's sleeve and wrapped his hands around Loki's wrist, thumbs pressing into the soft tissue on the underside of his arm. A burning sensation flared beneath Odin's grip as Loki gasped, jerking forward. Surely he ought to have smelled searing flesh. It was as if a hot brand had been jabbed into the tender skin of his inner wrist.

Odin released his hand and sagged back against the throne. Loki cradled his wrist, looking in horror at the rune stamped into his skin. Welted and angry red, it vaguely resembled two ravens circling a sphere, which taken together looked like an eye. Loki could see the shimmering, interlocking magical runes within the greater rune fading away. He'd never seen a binding spell of this sort.

He raised his face to Odin.

The Allfather's mouth was set in a grim line as he leaned against Gungnir. "I would not see you loosed upon any other realm. Your movements are no longer your own and you have forfeited all rights to secrecy. Even you will find the magic of this rune's watchful eye impossible to circumvent. And I need not tell you the Watcher will give you his special attention without any need for me to ask it of him. I think you will find it far harder to avoid his gaze with this mark upon you."

Wordlessly, Loki nodded in acknowledgment and descended the stairs to Thor, who gave his shoulder a light squeeze.

"And you, Book of Midgard," Odin paused here, "that is no true name. What are you rightly called?"

Book answered automatically, clearly thrown by the Allfather's previous announcement that he would not be going home. "It beats the alternative."

Frigga stepped forward and smiled at him. "You begin a new life here on Asgard. You ought to have an Asgardian name as well." She pursed her lips in thought, glanced at Skuld, and then murmured something to Odin. He nodded.

"The life you have lived is over now—and though you made no choice of it, Loki's blood runs through your veins. You are bound together by that blood and the magic it brings." Odin rose straighter, "And so it is that I, Odin Allfather, do give you over to Loki Odinson and proclaim you Fenris Lokison."

The proclamation rang across the hall, settling upon Book with the authority of all the kings of Asgard. Loki read the rejection in the boy's stance. He could imagine Book shoving Odin's words back at him, telling the Allfather how he didn't want any part of this. Loki watched the outrage and shock coalesce as Book turned to face him. No, Book hadn't asked for any of this…least of all Loki. But another emotion skulked behind all the others, one that Loki couldn't place. It almost seemed to be recognition or shades of sudden understanding. Something in Odin's words had struck the boy.

His own emotions were clearly too visible as Book's eyes hardened with grim satisfaction. At least he was taking pleasure in the fact that Loki was suffering too. The Trickster tried to school his features, shaking off first one emotion then another. Eventually he settled on disbelief.

"Father, the boy is not one of your subjects. We cannot keep him here," ventured Thor.

"I will do what I must. Could your Midgardians aid him? Who among them know of, much less can wield, the kind of power in that boy?" Odin's voice softened some as he looked from Thor to Book. "I would release him to his own kind if it were possible."

It seemed to Loki almost as if Odin were talking about Book like some animal he had foolishly brought home and now could not be returned to the wild. It surprised him the anger such disregard kindled within him. "You cannot use Book like a shackle—his life is his own."

"That life ended. The boy you knew died at the hands of the Chitauri," said Skuld. "The boy who stands before you does so only because of you. You gave him the life in his veins. His new talents he inherited from you. Your blood betrays you even in his very face." Book toyed uncomfortably with the black streak in his hair. "He is Lokison."

Loki turned to Odin. "Allfather, you cannot possibly…"

"My decision stands." The finality in his voice brooked no argument. "See to it that the boy is properly housed and attired. It will not due for a prince of the royal household to wander around in naught but a cloak." With that, Odin swept from the room. He did not so much as spare a glance for the newest member of his family.

"Welcome, Fenris," said Frigga, smiling broadly. Before Book could react, she had closed the gap between them and pulled him into a hug. She pulled back and held him at arms' length, surveying him with a gentle smile. "Son of my son." She glanced up at Thor playfully. "Your brother is well ahead of you, Thor. Why, you have not yet even introduced me to your Jane, and already Loki brings delight to me in my twilight years.

"Mother," hissed Thor, turning nearly as red as his cape.

An indulgent smile did not fully offset the wicked gleam in her eye as she took in her eldest's embarrassment. She turned back to Book. "Your Uncle will fight an ogre without care, but he lacks the stomach to introduce the girl he fancies to his mother."

Book laughed a bit at this, though there was an edge of desperation there.

Frigga placed a hand under his chin, forcing him to look at her. "This must be nearly more than you can take in," she said gently. "But all will be well. The future can take many unexpected turns—but I know that this is where you belong, just as surely as I knew when Odin placed Loki in my arms as a babe that he was mine. You are home."

She gathered her skirts about her as she rose to her feet. "I will see that rooms are prepared next to yours Loki, and some clothes sent up." A shrewd edge entered her gaze as she looked between Book and Loki. "Thor, you will assist me."

Thor seemed to consider protesting, but instead nodded. "Yes, Mother." He turned and nodded to Loki and then to Book a bit more hesitantly. His mother ushered him out of the room, beckoning to the guards to follow. The great doors closed solidly behind them, the noise reverberating through the nearly empty hall. Only Book, Loki, and Skuld remained.

A/N: It's kind of fun to get back into pre-Book Loki's head. Even if we don't stay there long. Last time a number of you mentioned that the chapter felt like an ending to the story and I honestly hadn't realized that it would (since, you know, I knew it wasn't), but now that I'm looking at it I can see how it would. Never fear! I am not that much of a nihilist to simply wipe out everything that has happened. But Loki probably shouldn't have ticked off Verthandi that much because she still has a say in exactly how he reaches his destiny.

And now we see Skuld's plan in full (or at least we see…most of it). More than one of you brought up at the initial transformation that Book was basically Fenris and another person specifically pointed out that this was a Fenris origin story…and now we see that yes, yes it was. Also, I know that "Fenrir" may actually be the more common version of the name in Norse mythology, but I've preferred "Fenris" since I was first introduced to it in The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe (even if I actually prefer "Maugrim" as the name for the head of the witch's secret police). It all works out though, since Fenris seems to be the preferred version in the MCU (even if Ragnarok didn't give me the epic wolf on Loki-wolf fight I had hoped for).

I also totally stole the "don't make it worse" from The Dark World—that movie doesn't get enough credit for how well it handled the relationships in Asgard's royal family.

Next Week: Book is having some…issues dealing with this new life path that has been handed to him.

Silver Frost: Wow! I hadn't noticed that. Thank you so much! It's brought me so much joy to share this with everyone and to get to see a few familiar faces throughout the journey 😊.

The Destroyer of Fate: Very good eye. Skuld wasn't giving up just yet.

RedHood001: Now that you've got me thinking about it, with a few tweaks I really could have ended it last chapter and had a bit of an epilogue where Loki at best has some fragmented memories of Book. I'm not sure I'm that cruel, though, and then I wouldn't get to play around with these two anymore…and that would make me sad. I mean, as a writer sometimes you've got to "kill your darlings" but…I don't think this is one of those times.

QuiltedRose 49: Welcome back! Aww, thank you. Hope you're glad to see that Verthandi's ideas were just a bump in the road. As to sequels, let's try to get to the end of this one first…almost there! And then, well, stay tuned for further announcements 😉.