He was a fool. Possibly mad. Leaving behind Odin's visage and taking on the generic features and dark blonde hair of the warrior he had shrouded himself as when coming back from Svartalfheim, the desolate world of the elves, could only be foolish. If there was a crisis, Odin would be missing and people would panic. The death of the queen had shaken the public's confidence. Their rulers were no longer untouchable.

Nor should they be. The thought gave Loki more faith in his reasoning behind disguising himself as a simple warrior. In his youth he had likewise cloaked his identity and wandered the Realm Eternal, making mischief where he deemed mischief deserving, and, though he was loath to admit it, using his magic to help here and there. That had been back when he'd believed himself destined for the throne. The Asgardian throne. Asgardians were not like the humans of Midgard with their puny minds and petty wars and pretty faces only his brother was dumb enough to fall for.

Midgardians were made to be ruled. Asgardians deserved a king who stood beside them.

But Odin had stood on his balcony. Untouchable.

If he had not been able to comprehend the emotions of his adopted son, how could he have understood the hearts of the Asgardians?

The Realm Eternal was still grieving, but rebuilding. He could see that much on the faces of his councilors and read such in their reports.

He needed to know more than that. He needed to stand amongst the people and find out if any orphan hungered, or if any battered, still-healing warrior had been cast out without a friend.

Yes, he was definitely going mad, risking the secret of his identity like this.

Loki smiled, because the last thought had been sarcastic. Odin and Thor would think him mad. But he knew why he was doing this.

Although Loki would believe himself crazy as well if he stood here thinking any longer.

It was late in the afternoon. Wearing the guise of Odin, he had retired to the allfather's chambers and ordered that no one disturb him. It was a simple enough trick. If he could have left behind an image of Odin sleeping in his bed, it would have been a better ploy, but his magic didn't work that way.

He'd left Odin's chambers by his knowledge of secret passages, during which time he had donned the features of the nondescript warrior.

Nondescript warrior. Loki rolled his eyes at the blandness. The disguise really needed a name.

Steve. He'd call it Steve, after his brother's bland new friend. But he was in no way going to behave like the disguise's namesake while he was out in the city. He couldn't act self-righteous that long.

He was out in the city now, walking the busiest streets. Rubble from damaged buildings had been swept off the streets and heaped in alleyways, waiting for crews to collect it. Memorials of softly glowing lights hung in the shop windows.

Loki abruptly stopped walking. The store in front of him – how had he ended up here?

It was the first bookstore Frigga had taken him to, where he'd first held an ancient book of magic and heard it whisper in his blood. They'd come often, and many times it had just been he and his mother in the back room of the store, sorting through old boxes of tomes and excitedly sharing the discovery when one of them found a book they wanted.

He shouldn't go in. The owner of the shop was a clever old woman who'd mentored his mother in magic, and with Heimdall safely in a trance, she was probably the last remaining person in Asgard who might be able to see through his disguise.

Although he doubted she would raise an alarm. The Lady Lagertha had always been fond of him as a child.

But his days of trusting people were past, like his childhood.

He took a step and stopped again, cautiously looking back at the bookstore because he'd sensed... something.

The front door had opened.

But the doorway was empty, and the store inside was dark.

Mentally cursing the twisted fate that had led him to stop in front of the bookstore, Loki walked closer. If she had seen him, the true him, he must deal with her.

Thanks to Frigga's books, he knew trances that would work even on the most powerful of people.

He stepped through the doorway.

And chains descended from the ceiling while the door slammed shut behind him.

The chains curled like snakes around his neck and forced his arms behind his back as his guise of Asgardian warrior "Steve" fizzled and dissipated under the power of magic.

Damn. Why did it always have to be magic-binding chains?

The writhing chains snaked around his legs and he stumbled, anger at the woman he'd once liked coursing through him as his face descended towards the wooden floor.

But there was no impact. At least, no impact against his face. A force twisted his body and he fell on his side. The arm he landed on was sharp with pain.

Immediately he tried to regain his feet and felt another surge of frustration when he couldn't move. He felt more anger towards himself now, instead of her.

I am a fool.

Some of his hair was twisted painfully in the chain around his neck, but most of it covered his eyes. Not that it was light enough in the store to see much anyway. Loki bit his lip and tensed as footsteps approached.

Fool, fool, fool.

He had liked her. She had given him books. She and Frigga had watched when he'd seen the first green glow of magic dance on his fingertips. Now he was lying on her floor in chains.

It was always sentiment.

The footsteps stopped and her form bent over, her hand pushed the hair out of his eyes.

The first thing he saw was her long gray braid swinging in front of his face. Then the lights in the store rose from darkness into dimness, and he saw her face.

She was older now, but that wasn't the difference. He'd never seen distrust in her eyes before.

Loki wondered what she saw in his.

"Hello Lady Lagertha," he said quietly.

She didn't answer, just quirked an eyebrow at him and pinched her shriveled lips together. Then she waved a finger, and Loki felt the chain around his throat relax to a less choking grip and his ability to move restored. He gingerly shifted his weight off his arm and awkwardly sat up, his gaze never leaving Lagertha.

"It's been a long time, Loki," she finally growled.

He let his eyes flicker shut so she wouldn't see his disgust. "Lagertha," he said tightly, "I am sick to death of being imprisoned and stared at. For mercy's sake, speak your mind or tighten the noose."

She frowned but acquiesced. "Did you kill Odin?"

"Would you believe me if I told you no?"

"I will if you tell me everything."

He smirked at her bluntness. "Then let's start."

-()()()()()()()()-

Hi again. As you might have guessed, my favorite scene in Thor 2 was Loki in chains and I'm not ashamed of that. Actually, I was shocked I managed to write the first chapter of this fic without torturing Loki, although he was hurting emotionally.

So, I must say that this was not beta'd and I am not that familiar with the Marvel Universe, so please let me know if there are any mistakes. I grew up reading Star Wars Expanded Universe books and writing Star Wars fanfiction, so if you ask me how a lightsaber works or what animals live on Dantooine, I can tell you, but if you ask me exactly how Loki's magic works I just have to guess or look things up online.

Disclaimer again that I do not own Loki, and I stole the name Lagertha from the Vikings History Channel show.

Thanks for reading! I would appreciate it if you reviewed. It might be as long as a week before I update again, just fyi. Sorry that it's kind of a cliffhanger.

Question - should I raise the rating on this to T since I had one swearword and Loki getting shoved around?

May the Force be with you. Oops wrong universe.