Chapter 2: And All We Know

Why two in one day? Because this chapter and the one before were originally one chapter, and I forgot why I split them up.

367 years later…

May 4, 2010 AD

Empty was the one way she could describe herself.

Sif was empty. It was strange for many to see her this way, but they had gotten used to it, not trying to break her out of the stupor any longer. They had tried for a long time, it had come so abruptly, one day she was a boiling pot of Loki hating rage and the next, she was broken. Sif still could not understand how Loki could have done what he was accused of, killed for. She'd given up trying. She simply tried not to think about it.

Her blue eyes were boring into a small book in her hands. She'd never opened it, no one ever would, its secrets lay trapped inside because the hands that were supposed to open its cover no longer existed. The cover was worn and tired, but it was a very old book, and had been hidden away for a long time. She'd gone to mountains of trouble to get it, and now all of that was voided, by a single arrow, a terrible action, a misstep of fate. She had been so looking forward to giving it to him, she knew he would have loved it.

It had been a gift for Loki, a simple book of spells. Some Vanir had sent her on the quest to find it, well not that particular book but a library once full of great knowledge, but lost to the sands of time. It had been a bit of a wild goose chase, tracking the thing down to the ruins in the middle of nowhere on Vanahiem where she had finally found the remnants of a library. She'd picked out that one book because it had been one of the few intact spellbooks. She had planned to take him to the library itself after giving him the book, but it never came to be.

Sif tried to think of good times, of happier moments in her life when they had been friends, off on some crazy adventure or back in Asgard, anything at all, anything happy. But she could not, her memories refused. All she could see now when she though of him was the hurt, wounded look in his eyes when she had spat angrily at him, calling him a murderer, liar traitor, scum and lower than dirt, how his eyes had been full of only pain. Pain she had inflicted on him. Oh, the horrible insults she had heaped on his head. And how long after had she spent in that mindless anger, thinking only of the pain exacted on her.

How she could forget how many times he'd stood by her? Even now, the memory of the terrible day when her hair turned black came to mind, the day he'd proved most loyal to her, the day she truly began to trust him with all she was.

She had run to him in a panic, the first person she could think of to help her. They had only known each other a few months when it happened, and it was early morning, but she had no where else to turn.

"Prince Loki! Prince Loki, wake up!" She shook him harshly, making him jump awake, sitting up and blinking rapidly until the world came into focus. He cast a spell to shed light on them, and rubbed an eye.

"Sif…I told you, you can just call me Loki. You're my friend, remember?" Loki told her, the last part almost as if he were asking if she saw it the same way. He'd been so desperate for friends then, so alone. But Sif didn't have time for deliberation or jokes.

"Yes, yes, I know. But that's not important right now." She said. Loki looked out his window, at the still dark and asleep realm below them.

"Care to explain why you are in my bedchamber, in my bed, in the middle of the night?" He questioned. Sif leapt out of his bed in alarm, making the prince laugh a little. "Not that I mind, I'm only wondering."

"Don't get any foolish ideas. I am in need of your help." Loki nodded for her to go on. "Well, I was on a quest, to find this enchanter…and I found her, but before I could do as I intended, ask her a question, she is supposed to be a seer, you see…any way, before I could do as I wished, she attacked me."

"If you're hurt, you should go to Eir, not me. I am no healer." Loki said.

"I wish it were that simple." Sif mumbled. She took a hold of her hood, slipping it off her head and revealing her now inky black hair. Loki's eyebrows nearly reached his hairline, green eyes widening beyond what Sif thought possible. "Don't just stare, do something!" She exclaimed. Loki snapped out of his reverie and motioned for her to come closer.

"I need to see your hair to see if I can help." He explained when she didn't move. Sif tentatively sat next to him on the massive bed. He looked so small in it, almost like he was drowning in the gold and green sheets. His hands ran through her hair for a moment, and he sighed. "I'm sorry Sif, I can't help."

"What do you mean, you can't help? I thought you were good with mage craft!"

"I am!" Loki defended. "But… it's not a simple spell, Sif. There are some who have the power to change the appearance of Æsir, and apparently your seer was one of them. It's not a spell, so it cannot be reversed." Sif looked down, devastated. "Oh, come now, its not so bad. I've had black hair all my life, it's not that bad, really."

"How many times have I seen you teased for it?" She asked. Loki chewed his lip, knowing she was right. "See what I mean."

"Well, it's not as though your life is over."

"My hair was perfect, it was beautiful." Sif said looking at a bit she pulled in her hand. "Now look at it."

"I am looking at it." Loki replied. "If I am not mistaken, I have heard many people say it is a shame you had such beautiful hair, that it was wasted on you. At least they cannot say such things now."

"I would prefer that." Sif mumbled. "And for it to happen in such a stupid way, by a seer, of all things! Foolish!" She cursed, kicking her legs out.

"Tell you what, go home, go to sleep, and I'll come up with something so you can save face, alright? And, I'll fix this problem. I'll get you even more beautiful hair than what you had before." Loki smiled at her, and Sif raised an eyebrow. "I swear, I will get you your blonde hair back Sif, and make sure no one knows you were beaten by a seer."

"I was not beaten, she will not be changing anyone else's hair anytime soon." Sif said proudly, and Loki shook his head with a small laugh.

"Go, I'll see you in the morning."

He'd taken the fall for her, told everyone that it was he messing up a spell that was meant to be a prank because she had bragged about her golden locks. Then he'd gone off to find her new hair. And he'd vanished for far longer than any expected, only to be found as a captive of the dwarves. Apparently, he'd made a rather poor bet and nearly gotten killed for it, only to end up in a cell with his mouth sewn shut for his trouble, and no hair for Sif. Odin had been furious, especially when Sif had gone to him with the truth, to try and convince him to get Loki. She'd feared for her place, but Odin had not sent her away, telling her that Loki must have truly enjoyed her company to do something for her such as this, so she was allowed to stay. Loki had been returned, but was very sick for a good time afterwards, having not eaten for a long time. Sif had told him she'd gotten used to the black hair, that he shouldn't bother trying again, and he'd eventually accepted this. Ever since that…well they had been friends, close friends.

So Sif was empty. On this day, Sif was hollow and broken a new.

"Do you remember when we came here when he came of age?" Volstagg asked his two friends, sitting in a lonely corner of a tavern they frequented.

"And how much convincing he took? Yes, I remember that well enough." Fandral stared at his meade, trying to find some joy. It really wasn't working for him, and the meade must have been watered down or something because it was having no effect.

"Come now Fandral, we're trying to remember Loki fondly, not make ourselves more upset. I know you miss him, but try to smile will you?" Volstagg urged.

"You didn't know him like I did, Volstagg." The blonde warrior replied. "It is easier for you, you were closer to Thor." Volstagg drew his lips into a thin line, but remained silent. Fandral was right; he'd always been a closer friend to Thor than with Loki. Not to say that he was a not friend to the younger prince, but he'd been fonder of Thor. "The worst of it is, it feels like betraying Asgard to think of Loki fondly, and betraying Loki to forget him completely."

"Loki was our friend. Let others condemn him, for they did not know him." Hogun said, looking grimly at the other two warriors next to him. Fandral still looked distant, remembering things. The last person he'd expected to make friends with was Prince Loki. When he'd first met the younger prince, Fandral been still young, perhaps 150 years of age at the most. Loki was younger still, around 100 years old, but he'd been so small, barely reaching Fandral's shoulder, and thin as twig. Hardly prince material, while Thor had looked every inch a royal. The pair had been training, though Loki sat out most of the time, reading a book. Thor had continued on after the teacher left, and Loki had sat on the edge of the ring contentedly, swinging his thin legs back and forth and humming to himself. Fandral remembered the day rather clearly, because as Loki had been sitting there, an older warrior walking by had pushed him from his seat, down onto the hard dirt of the ring below.

Thor had near exploded in anger, but Fandral watched as the smaller prince had gotten between his brother and the offending warrior, talking the situation out before it got violent. That had instantly gotten Fandral's respect, but what had gotten friendship started was the fact that he'd worked up the courage to go talk to the Prince (talking to him could be dangerous, one slip up and you could find yourself on the end of Thor's rage), and the absolute joy that he'd seen on Loki's face when Fandral complemented him on how he dealt with the argument.

Loki had been a good friend to Fandral; more loyal than any he had ever known. Perhaps that was because Loki had so few friends, so in turn he was the best friend he could possibly be to those he did have. Regardless, there were many times in Fandral's life that he never would have survived if not for the younger prince, both on the battlefield and in Asgard itself. Loki's silver words had fended off more than one angry maiden in his time, saving the womanizing warrior from their feminine wrath, even if Loki always gave him a dressing down about his antics afterwards. Fandral often forgot that he was in fact older than Loki, with the way he was always giving advice.

"He got so drunk." Fandral said suddenly, drawing Volstagg and Hogun's attention with a dark laugh.

"Aye, it was perhaps the most humorous thing I have ever seen. Didn't take much either, Thor took perhaps three times as much to get a little drunk. Then again, Thor was more than twice his size at the time." Volstagg mused.

"He was so upset with us the day after, but he couldn't yell because it hurt his head." Fandral said. "Told me if I got him drunk again he'd tell Thor I hurt him and laugh at the carnage."

"Always had a sharp tongue." Hogun smirked. "Got sharper when he was upset."

"If there was ever anyone who knew how to use words properly, it was him. He could make the greatest of warriors look like the lowest of fools or rally a failing army. We all saw him do it, do you not remember?"

"'Remember who you are, warriors of Asgard. Those men who sleep now at home shall will curse the fates for leaving them away from these fields and hold their honor as nothing when ever one of you speak who was here on this day, for on this day we drove back the evil that sought to take our homes, our families, all we hold dear. On this day we few warriors saved the realm that came to enslave it, but failed, for so long as a warrior of Asgard draws breath he shall be free.'" Fandral smiled sadly, remembering the earsplitting war cry that had followed Loki's mid-battle speech.

"Aye, he had a way with words. He made me laugh when I thought I could do nothing but mourn the loss of my son. Kept my wife sane, he did. I owe him that." Volstagg sighed. It had been hard losing his son to battle on Vanahiem; Loki had been the one to tell him. It had been late at night, his wife opening the door, starting to greet the prince, and then letting out a scream of utter agony when seeing that he held her son's helm and sword in his pale hands. Volstagg had always cursed himself for not going on that campaign.

"We are remembering fondly." Fandral smiled, lifting his half empty flagon of meade. "To Prince Loki." He said, voice low. His friends raised their mugs as well, draining them in sync.

Frigga ran her hands slowly over the worn face of one of Loki's old journals. She had read every one that she had saved, her only remaining connection to her lost son. There were none left from the last few decades of his life, they had been found by Odin's guards before Thor came and stopped them. The ones she had now had been hidden in a small corner of his room, hard to find. Sometimes he would recount his days in them, others there would be the workings of something he'd been studying and still other pages would have drawings on them. That was something she had never known about Loki, that he had been such an accomplished artist, capturing beauty with the simple black and white of the page and a piece of charcoal.

Her gaze was drawn away from the leather bound book by the creak of the massive doors of her bedchambers, and her husband coming into the room. She smiled sadly at him as he walked through the room, every one of his years evident on his face and in his eye.

"I miss him." She whispered, moving back to the book. "I wonder still what went so wrong, where did we go wrong my love?"

"I do not know." Odin replied, voice heavy with sorrow. "But no amount of sorrow or conjecture will give us our son back. He is gone now, by my foolhardy choice."

"You did what you thought you had to. I know it was not easy, but it…it had to be done." Frigga whispered.

"You believe that?" Odin said, finding his wife's words difficult to trust in. He trusted her and her honesty, but he also knew that she had not agreed with his choice.

"I have to." Odin closed his eye sadly, letting out a long-suffering sigh. "We cannot deliberate on whether it was the right choice, for it is the choice we made, and it is long past time to try and solve it."

"I did not see the effect it would have on Thor."

"Poor Thor. He seems to be near brokenness even now. I though he might heal some with time as we have, but I only see him sinking yet deeper into despair. On this day, he seems near unable to breathe. He never saw how much Loki meant to him until he was no longer there." Frigga said.

"That is the way that things often go, we do not understand what it is we have until we have it no longer. I cannot say that I was exempt from this realization as well." Odin sighed again. "I know not whether Thor will recover, if four centuries cannot begin to help his pain, and he refuses help or comfort… I am at a loss for what action I should take."

"Give him more time, husband. Do not rush our boy." Frigga replied.

"Four centuries, Frigga."

"And more than seven with him, my love. I know it is a long time, but let him grieve. If you push him to go quicker, you will hurt him." Frigga replied, and looked back down at the book in her hands. "I cannot say my grief is gone."

"Nor is mine." Odin replied. "But life goes ever onward, with or without us."

"Indeed it does."

Today was Loki's name day.

The Warriors Three were celebrating it in their tavern corner.

Sif was in her rooms, staring at her tear-stained book.

Frigga and Odin spoke in their room.

Thor was in Loki's room, staring at the ceiling. Thor, well he was never the same. Like Baldur had thought, he merely subsisted, going from day to day in dull, unfeeling motions. He could not find closure; he could not get past his grief. It was not as though he never felt happiness or some revelry, but he had no joy, it was all gone. It was a sad thing to witness.

"I have a problem, brother." He began quietly. This had become a sort of ritual for him, a means of trying to recover, to try to speak to Loki. "I…you always told me that you would never die for a lie you had told. That in the end, you would tell the truth. Father, he would not have… if you had told him that you did try to kill Baldur, he would have let you go. And yet you maintained the tale. You…you cannot have died for a lie. I didn't know what to think, but I have been watching Baldur. He grows different, harsher and almost impatient for something. I see jealousy and anger in him, and he speaks of you with spite in his tone. I know what to think now." Thor paused, a lump forming in his throat.

"You were telling the truth, weren't you…all those years ago, you told the truth. And no one believed you." His voice was strained, his eyes glazed over a tears began to fall. "I am so sorry. I am so, so sorry. I didn't see, I was such a fool. I let you die…I'm so sorry Loki. Brother." Thor's chin hit his chest as his head dropped, tears splashing on the floor silently as Thor took a shaky breath.

"I know I cannot go tell father what I think, they will think that I have simply gone mad. Perhaps I have, for missing you. I cannot live without you, my brother." Thor shook his head. "I know not how I have survived thus far."

Thor looked up, gazing around the room. It looked nothing like it had when Loki had lived in it, it was empty, except for the bed nothing was left. Some of it still existed, thanks to Frigga, who had been livid when she discovered what Odin had done to many of Loki's things. What little she was able to save was stored away, deep within the palace, away from prying eyes or broken hearts. The room lay bare and cold, dusty and too clean at the same time

"I will find some way to make this right, Loki. Your sacrifice will not be in vain, I promise you this brother. I will make this right."

August 17, 2010 AD

Baldur was watching his brother from a distance, fiddling with one of the sparring swords while Thor was busy smashing things.

Thor's heart isn't in this. Odd, considering it's sparring, and it often takes his mind off Loki. What's gotten into him lately? It's been months since Loki's name day, but ever since then...he's been all stiff and un-Thorish. If I didn't know better, I'd assume he was actually thinking.

"Do you still keep track of the years?" Baldur asked curtly, looking down the sword he held. Pissing Thor off was one way to get the answers he wanted. Of course it also came with the risk of getting beaten to a pulp, but Loki's old ward spell still kept Baldur from injury, so it wasn't too risky for him. "It's been so long now, almost…oh, four centuries perhaps?" Thor dropped his hammer down, but did not make eye contact with Baldur, barely even glancing at him.

"Why do you care?" Thor snapped. This was what was worrying Baldur, the curtness and spite that Thor had found somewhere in the gushy heart of his. At first, Thor had been more than happy to get closer to Baldur, and then he maintained that relationship, but now, now he had grown cold. Baldur wanted to think that it was just another stage of grief, but something said it wasn't. Perhaps Thor was onto him. That would be shocking.

"Well, you're my brother. I worry."

"Don't. I am fine." Thor replied curtly.

"Of course." Baldur answered. "You've just been so upset lately, and I was beginning to wonder if there was something wrong."

"So why did you ask if I count the years. Of course I count the years, I count them even if I do not wish to." Thor snapped in return. Baldur shrugged in reply. Thor had lasted much longer than he expected, proving the stubbornness was rampant in their family. That was all that was keeping Thor sane, his stubborn willingness to live on, his warrior's heart. Stupid stubborn Thor. Bull headed idiot.

Baldur wasn't sure what he expected, but really, did he have to be so stupid? Was he obligated to be blind to what was happening around him, or was that just him. Good thing he would be gone soon, and he would never have the throne. That was another thing worrying Baldur, Odin couldn't hold onto the throne much longer, Loki's death had taken a lot out of him too.

"I think you should move on, let him go. He was my brother too, and I loved him as you did b-" Baldur found himself held in the air by the front of his clothes, Thor's blue eyes blazing like the lighting he wielded.

"You cannot know how much I loved Loki. If you loved him remotely as much as I do, you would never have let father kill him!"

"I had no choice! He had to die!"

"You had a choice! You could have spoken to father, forgiven Loki's actions! You know the laws!" Thor boomed. "You…no you wanted him dead didn't you." Baldur's face fell. Perhaps Thor was more intelligent then he gave credit for.

"Wanted him dead, goodness no Thor." Baldur said, patting Thor's arm. "Please put me down…" Thor growled, but let Baldur down. "Thank you. Thor, if I wanted Loki dead, I would at least let him die with some honor, don't you think?" The elder brother didn't seem convinced, but nodded, and then tried to burn a hole in the ground with his eyes. Thor tightened his hand on Mjolnir's handle, and turned his blazing blue eyes to the space over Baldur's shoulder.

Thor left shortly after his argument with Baldur, he couldn't stand to look at the man. He had no time to deal with the man he could no longer call a brother. At one time he could still consider Baldur, even after all that had happened, but seeing Baldur's callas disregard for all he had done, all the pain he'd caused, it prevented Thor from seeing Baldur as a brother. No brother could ever care so little for his own sibling. Thor raged at the sky once he reached his room, and for some unknown reason, he threw Mjolnir at his desk, sending wood flying about the room.

It was the light flicker of ancient magic that caught his eye, a flash of green and gold so familiar it hurt life a blade twisting in his chest. Thor walked to the shattered remains of his desk, kneeling down to where the flash had been, pulling back a board to reveal a small, old leather bound book. A journal. One of Loki's, he knew it by sight. Carefully, he picked it up off the ground, a bit of magic shocking him as his fingers brushed the surface. As he did, a piece of paper slipped out the front pages, onto the floor. Thor picked it up, opening it up and seeing a page full of runic writing, Loki's writing.

To explain what is probably very confusing to you, if you've found this, I've written you this letter Thor. I know I'm probably dead, which would be the only way you would ever find this, the spell on it should dispel if I…well, you know. If it doesn't then I hope you've kept your head on a swivel Thor, because you are in grave danger. The contents of the journal you hold in your hand are a run through of what have probably been the last few years of my life. Baldur wants the throne, Thor, he thinks you unfit to rule and seeks to, as he claims, save Asgard from your rule. This book you have is tied to your room with a spell, the only thing holding it in mine is a counterspell that should break should anything happen to me. It should end up on your desk, in plain sight. I hope. Read it, show it to father, do what you like. It should be enough to convince him. I tried to solve this, but I have a sinking feeling, I don't think this is going to end well for me. Baldur is watching me like some kind of predator, like I am his prey. That is why I have done this.

Also, Thor, if I am dead, always remember that I love you. I figured you might need to hear that again, so listen Thor. I love you.

Loki

Thor tightened his jaw against the sadness that threatened to overcome him. He opened the book and read slowly. It was written like a journal, informal and roughly written, as if in haste. Thor ate the pages like fire, flipping through them and reading faster than ever before. Once he finished, fell back into the chair behind him, eyes wide in disbelief. If that was only a few years record of Baldur's actions, what more could there be, how long had this gone on?

Loki had meant this to be found the day he died, something must have gone wrong, horribly wrong with his plan. But it could still be carried out, he could still fix this. All of Loki's work would not be in vain.

"Father!" Thor threw the doors of the throne room wide open, walking toward his father with a heartbroken conviction. Odin sent away his advisors at the sight of his son, the councilors scuttling away like little rats out the doors. "Father, I found something of great importance." Odin remained silent but nodded. "It's about Baldur and Loki."

"Thor…" Thor cut his father off, holding up the journal he'd just found, and read and reread.

"This," he said shaking it a little, "is Loki's journal, the last date is a month before his death. It recounts Baldur's actions and plans in the few years prior in great detail. I think you will find it most interesting, and very relevant indeed." Odin drew back as Thor handed him the dark leather book, but took it gently. Thor had kept the letter to himself; it was meant for him, not his father. Odin read slowly at first, face impassive, but the speed grew as he went on, eye widening slightly as he continued. He didn't even finish the book, shut it and stood abruptly.

"Guards!" He boomed, sending the guards rushing in. "Find Baldur and bring him to me. If he refuses, arrest him and force him to come." The guards nodded and walked off. "Thor gather the council. There is a trail to be had before he arrives."

"Baldur will not be allowed to speak?"

"No, this trail already happened once before."

Baldur did not seem too happy when he arrived, but he had come under his own fruition, not forced to.

"All-Father, you wanted to see me?" It was strange how obvious the signs were now, even in just that short sentence, just by not calling Odin father. Odin held up the journal Thor had given him.

"This is Loki's, and it has some very condemning things to say about you, Baldur." He said. Baldur's face dropped. His game was up.

"Surely you don't believe the written words of a murderer over the spoken ones of your own son." Baldur said, trying to salvage the situation. Odin only narrowed his eye.

"You betrayed your brother and allowed him to die for your selfish ambitions for a throne that was not to be yours. Your brother's death is on your head Baldur, you are more a murderer than he ever was."

"Who's to say he didn't attempt to shoot me? No one was there." Baldur shot back.

"He was afraid of you, Thor tells me. He did this a precaution in case his fears came to truth." That bastard Loki, he'd planned on dying hadn't he! This was just a bit of his plan, dying to arouse suspicion in Thor and his father, the bastard! Baldur had severely underestimated how far Loki was willing to go to stop him. "It is good that he did. Baldur, you are charged with the murder of Prince Loki of Asgard, of conspiring to kill myself, your brother, and the queen. I, Odin All-Father, find you guilty of such crimes and strip you of your title, your rank, and your freedom. You are sentenced to live out your life in the prisons of Asgard, never again to see the light of day or the family you have betrayed." Baldur set his jaw as the guards grabbed ahold of him, and Odin took his armor away, leaving him in only a tunic and pants. "Take him away."

September 1, 2010 AD

Thor hadn't been to this balcony since Baldur had found him here days after Loki's execution. It was a few weeks since Baldur had been publicly sentenced, and the news had spread like wildfire, Loki had been completely innocent. He was finally vindicated, the truth was out. Some despicable people claimed they'd known all along, and Thor wanted to punch them, but held back. He'd never seen Sif so happy, overjoyed that her friend was not as corrupted as she believed. She'd relapsed into a new state of mourning for a while, but rose out of it quickly, the emptiness that had overcome her in the last centuries fading away with a new fire that settled in, now truly able to look back on her closest friend with a sense of pride.

Thor, he finally had a sense of closure. This had finally ended, this chapter was over. He was alone now, the only son of Odin and Frigga, but something had come back to him, a little bit of joy long gone, a little hope that had left him. It was strange that finding out of Baldur's betrayal should bring so much joy, it almost felt wrong, but it was a huge weight off of Thor's shoulders. Loki had succeeded, even in death, he'd protected Thor.

It hurt Thor a little, because it should have been him protecting Loki, not the other way around, but still, Loki's sacrifice was not in vain. He'd saved Asgard from Baldur's rule, and that was something to be proud of. Thor felt as though his mourning for Loki could finally stop, though he didn't think he could ever fully let his little brother go, or fully live without Loki by his side.

"Do you want to be alone?" Sif's voice sounded from behind him. She was pulling herself out of the trap door, pausing at the top.

"I have never wanted to be alone up here. The company is welcome." Thor replied. Sif pulled herself out and stood next to him, looking over the city. "It's over, I think I may be able to finally let go." He said with a sigh. "They finally honored him, though we cannot have a funeral."

"Thor…I have something to say." She began tentatively. "It's something Loki told me long ago, I think it may be important." Thor raised an eyebrow. "We might be able to get him back, Thor."