A/N: Hi! Long time no see - sorry. I've been distracted by several months of frantic almost-daily Game of Thrones fanficcing, but I think I'm done with that now and can get back to Rehab stuff. In the meantime, here's this.

Director:
I need a favor: several days of your undivided attention
and absolute discretion about it. I am in straits too dire
to put to paper. Please come now. I beg you to come.
I will wait for you by the portal.

Loki was doubled up trying not to moan aloud when the portal glowed and Drone Three stepped through.

They didn't bother with greetings. "You're lucky I recognize your handwriting," the Drone said coolly. "And lucky your note got around as fast as it did. There are dozens of Directors. What's the problem?"

Loki help up a hand; he could tell the pain was passing again. As soon as it did he straightened. "Can you stay?" he said quietly. Wiped the sweat off his face. "I realize that this is a favor of massive proportions compared to that letter you asked of me last year, but please: I am desperate."

"So I gathered. I arranged a friend to cover – discreetly – for five days. Will that be enough?"

"The way it's going I think it will be over much sooner than that." Loki was able to breathe a little better now. "It's time. I mean of course I-... I should have dealt with it sooner but… I was too mortified to tell anyone. I still am. For months I've been-, not, you know. But I need help. Now."

"You are babbling," Three said shortly. "Explain yourself."

He found he could not say it, and had to show. He took off the illusion he had worn religiously for half a year, and couldn't look at himself. Instead he looked at the Drone. It was painful to watch its eyes widen, its brow lift. After a long silence: "Loki… it has been some time since my Foreign Anatomy classes… but I am fairly confident Aesir males cannot bear children."

"Ordinarily we can't. Don't fucking laugh at me. I-." He couldn't talk; his guts were twisting. He wasn't sure if it was the creature again, or just his own revulsion. "I need help."

"You are about to give birth. Right now."

The flat calm of a Drone's voice was exactly what he needed. The panic of the last few hours finally ebbed a little and he could think. "It seems so. How should I know? I've never- ah- obviously. I have no experience."

"Mm. What was the father? Not one of your kind, I presume. Or this shouldn't be possible."

"No. It was a – please don't laugh – it was a horse. A giant's horse."

"Ah, a horse. I see." As requested the Drone didn't laugh out loud... but Loki could sense amusement all the same.

"I coupled with it in the form of a mare," he snarled. "Not by choice. It's a long story. In any event, I had no idea this condition could occur when I resumed my usual shape."

"An understandable oversight – at first. But then…?"

He didn't want to talk about it, but the Drone was gesturing firmly for an explanation. "I started feeling unwell over the summer," he admitted. "But it's second nature to me to spell my stomach quiet when it's upset. I do it without thinking, without even noticing sometimes. So, it was months before I realized that-... this. And, and I was so sickened I didn't-... I, I just-..." He had to stop stammering. With an immense effort he drew himself up said the rest steadily and with eye contact. "I spelled myself to insensibility and wove a glamour, and I cast the whole thing from my mind. But now it's time. And I need-." He couldn't say it again.

"Help." The Drone let out a long breath and paced the room slowly – as if checking that it was secure. One door – locked. No windows. Finally he turned back and crossed his arms. "Are you requesting a midwife, or an abortionist?"

Loki's jaw dropped. He was an idiot. But the thing moved – kicked at him – and he shook his head. "Midwife," he whispered. Hating himself for not having faced the problem promptly. A simple spell, or a knife, and he could have ended this the moment he found out about it. "The other hadn't occurred to me. I wish it had."

"It's a little late now; it would be cruel." The Drone came close and put his hand on Loki's pulsating belly; it took every bit of willpower not to pull away. "This creature is ready to live. Whatever it is."

"Then, let it live – somewhere else. Get it out."

The Drone nodded. "We can sign you in to the facility and our infirmary will take care of it."

"No." Loki grabbed at his arm. (Grabbed.One of them. He really must in be dire straits.) "No one can know. I know, I know your people take their obligations seriously, I know they'd promise discretion and, and professionalism, but I can't. I cannot face that." People looking at his misshapen body, poking at it, talking about this, attending to him. His skin prickled at the thought. "It took everything I have even to-." He made a sharp gesture in the Drone's direction.

But begging was as little use as ever. "If you won't sign in you can't come; I will not smuggle you," Three said implacably. When Loki tried to protest he held up a hand and explained: "If the birth goes badly we'll have a dead Asgardian prince on our hands with no proof it was his own fault. Unacceptable. I'm not afraid to risk myself, but I won't bring war down on my people."

Goes badly? He hadn't even considered that possibility. Though at this point he might welcome it, with the way he was-

He pressed at his stomach; more pains were coming. He would have preferred this to happen as far from civilization as possible rather than right under his family's noses, but there was not time to argue. "Fine. My old bedroom is out of the way and it's still got spells on it to keep it hidden. We can go there. I'll write you a note to cover your own ass in case it-… goes badly."

"All right. Lead the way." The Drone gave a smile that almost looked encouraging. "And don't worry, Loki, it's going to be fine," he soothed. Loki would actually have felt a little soothed, except then his smile twisted and he continued: "Totally routine. Men have been giving birth to horses since the beginning of time."

It took Loki several tries to pull medical supplies through the ether; the twisting of the creature was distracting him and his magic was going haywire. When he at last could access things he wanted he made no effort at precision; he dumped most of the contents of a Midgard sickroom onto his floor in a heap. "Our healers rely on magic," he explained in a series of gasps, "So their tools won't help you. These should be better."

The Drone began digging through the pile. "I can use magic," he protested, sounding almost wounded. "Sometimes. A little." He found a plain white sheet and tucked it in over top of Loki's dusty bedcovers.

And in the meantime, Loki attacked the pile himself and pulled out the important thing: knives.

The Drone arched an eyebrow when cutting tools were shoved into his hands. "What makes you so certain this is going to be a surgery?" he asked. "Maybe it will all happen naturally."

"How can it?" Loki snarled. "As you so rightly pointed out, Aesir males can't give birth."

"Perhaps not ordinarily. But as you've managed to carry the thing, it seems you've grown a womb," Three pointed out reasonably. "Didn't you get a birth canal to go with it?"

Loki didn't answer. Couldn't bring himself to admit that...

But Three figured it out. He drew in a slow breath as if mustering his patience. "Loki. Did you even check?"

This time Loki shook his head.

Without further ado: "Then drop your drawers." Loki made no move to obey. "Do you plan to give birth through leather? Come on, Loki: take off everything below the waist, and lie down on your back. Against these pillows. Now."

He stripped, looking anywhere but at his own deformed body as it came into view. He lay down. The pressure was awful and very strange; though his spells sometimes slipped at night (and he dreaded it; he had not had a good night's sleep in months) he had gotten very quick about shoring them up when it happened. He had never before had to feel this horror for long. "Hurry," he said. He could hear himself just one short step away from panic, holding it together by only the barest of margins.

Drone Three could surely hear that too, but nevertheless his tone was cool and unhurried. "Conjure something to put your feet up on," he directed, "So that I can see."

Loki warped the bedposts with a blast of magic, drawing them down towards himself like evil claws. His ankles were lifted one by one and set up. He resisted the urge to close his legs, and tried closing his eyes instead. Pretending he was somewhere else.

"I have cold hands," Three warned. "Apologies."

He sucked in his breath as something touched him, cold hands indeed, sweeping efficiently over his privates. Touching everywhere.

"No. Normal Aesir male anatomy." Three snorted. "Other than the stomach having sprouted a horse. Oh, calm down," he ordered over Loki's hiss. "This will be over in a couple of hours, and you've had worse. You will get through this."

Will I? He couldn't bring himself to say it aloud.

But Three answered him anyway. "Yes. Between this equipment and your powers, I'm confident we can handle whatever happens – provided you keep your head together. All right?"

Loki made eye contact, resolutely not looking down at himself. The latest agonizing contraction had passed, but that was worse because now he could feel that the thing was moving around. He wanted to vomit. He wanted to claw himself open and remove it by force. Focus. "All right. What can we do?"

Three answered without hesitation. "We can cut. Here, through your abdominal wall. I've never delivered a live baby that way, but I understand it's not difficult."

A live baby. Loki didn't think about it.

What he did think, was that he did not particularly want to be butchered for the sake of this revolting parasite. (Even though he suspected it would come to that in the end. And even though Drone Three surely knew how to do such things without killing his-… patient. Which, again, he carefully didn't think about.). He kept his voice as light as possible. "I suppose that's one option. But in the event I'm not exactly eager for a vivisection…?"

The Drone sighed. "Can you change yourself back into a horse?"

He shook his head. With this creature sapping him his magic had been unreliable lately, worse than unreliable – and he had no idea what would happen if he tried changing forms with the thing inside him. He would have hesitated to try that on the best of days. "I can't change forms right now."

"Can't change forms," Three repeated. "All right. Then, can you make, ahem, selective alterations to the form you're in?"

He cocked his head. "Pardon?"

"Can you grow yourself a cunt, Loki?"

Loki winced. Aside from the fact that he did not particularly want a… "I… have no idea. I've never tried to just... do that."

"Try now."

He had taken female forms before without complaint (for fuck's sake he had taken the form of a female horse without complaint!), but somehow this was different. It was more akin to mutilation than disguise, and it disgusted him. He shook his head. "No."

"I want you to make an effort," the Drone said coolly. "Do it now, or I will provide incentive." He raised a hand and Loki saw something glint. Scalpel.

He flinched away – though he lacked the nerve to get up and flee in earnest. "No-."

"Yes. Here, I'll mark the spot for you: it goes here."

"AH!" It was only a tiny stinging cut, inflicted with the barest twitch of the Drone's wrist… but Loki knew it for a warning. Cooperation was the only sensible path when there was a blade brushing his balls. "All right all right," he gasped. "Take the knife away. I'll try."

"Good." The knife didn't move. "But it would be best if you do more than try, Loki."

Stone-cold fucking drone bastard. "All right!" he hissed. "All right, I will, I'll do it. I will. Please." The knife was withdrawn, and though he hated himself for it he did say thank you.

"Loki. Loki, it's over. You're done; you made it. Let go." Loki felt cool hands prying at his. He had a death-grip on the straps above his head, and his hands were cramped so badly that he couldn't make himself release them without help.

"It's out, it's gone, you're doing fine. There's blood everywhere and you wouldn't win any beauty contests," Three reported, "But your stomach's not nearly so swollen anymore. Do you think you can look without going berserk again?"

He was too tired to be berserk, so he nodded wearily, and closed his eyes while the blindfold was untied. He squinted into the light.

"And may I assume you're finished screaming?"

He nodded again, and turned his head to let the Drone get at the knot of his gag.

Once he could speak unimpeded, he said: "Your bedside manner..." He paused to clear his throat; it was raw and he sounded terrible.

"...Is not kind," Three finished for him.

"No. Thank you. Kindness would have made me sick."

The Drone laughed softly. "I know. Would you like to see your... horse?"

"Not really."

"Well that's unfortunate, because here it is." Three bent to scoop something off the floor, a big squirming bundle of blanket, and shoved it into his arms. "Congratulations, Mommy."

Loki shuddered. The creature looked more spider than horse, far too many thin spindly legs, and he had a sudden, overpowering urge to crush it.

He couldn't, though – not with Drone Three watching. Gods knew what the Drone would say to him, after having just expended hours of effort to bring the thing into the world. Anyway, he was supposed to want to love it.

"It's..." Revolting. "What do I do with it?"

Three grinned. "Not feeling any sort of maternal affection?" Loki's only answer was a miserable head shake. "Then, send it to the stables. It's a fucking horse, Loki. What else would you do with it?"

Kill it in front of you.

Three was stroking the thing's head idly with one finger. "It is rather adorable though, don't you think? Look at those little ears."

As it tossed its head and huffed, Loki began to see that it really was a horse. Not creature, not parasite... just a horse. The urge to destroy it passed.

Though he would still be glad to never see it again. "Do you want it?" he said.

Three chuckled. "Flattered, but I'm not sure our relationship is quite close enough to justify my adopting your child."

"Horse."

"...And I'm not sure adopting a horse is a good idea in the first place."

"Please stop mocking me."

"Sorry, but no. Water?"

Loki gratefully exchanged the bundle for a water glass and wished Three would stop watching his hands shake. As soon as he started drinking he realized how absurdly thirsty he was, and once he paused for breath he thought to ask: "How long was I out? I remember up until I asked for straps to hold on to. After that it's…" A storm of nightmare. "…Rather fuzzy."

The Drone shrugged. "I let you try for a while past that, but you were not doing well. The creature was tangled and kicking – and you were lost in some hell I was much too occupied to talk you out of. Apologies for that. Anyway, when it looked like you couldn't take much more and weren't making any progress towards finishing, I gagged you and went in with a blade. I hope you weren't planning to use that orifice again, by the way. I'm fairly confident I broke it."

So that's what that pain was. Loki swallowed down a nauseated moan.

"...Of course, on the upside, if you do decide to copulate with any more horses, you can probably do it without even changing forms now."

At that, he retched. Three laughed and took the water glass away. "I wanted you conscious while we were working, but there's no reason you can't check out now. You've responded well to morphine in the past – would you like some?"

He nodded hard.

"Heal yourself first; you're still bleeding and the volume is starting to concern me."

While Three bustled around finding him his medicine, Loki worked on not only healing, but also transforming away his unwanted reproductive parts. Marshalling that magic was difficult, and so exhausting that his eyes were already drifting closed when the needle pinched him. "Ow-. Will you-...?"

"I'll stay til you wake up. I have a book."

"Thank you. I... owe you for this."

"Nonsense. What are friends for, if not to deliver one another's mutant horse-children?"

Loki glared, and from somewhere mustered the energy to flash a crude gesture as well.

The Drone chuckled. "Now, Mommy, that's just your hormones talking. Go to sleep."

Loki found himself obeying. As usual.

The End.

So... voila. YIWT's retelling of the Sleipnir Thing. What do you think?