Loki glanced around in disdain at his surroundings, his lip curled upwards as his gaze fell on the books that Frigga had left him. He'd been in his cell for-he was guessing a couple months, though without any sort of window it was near impossible to tell. He was fed, certainly, a meal a day and nothing more, and each day brought with it a new set of vagabonds, slave traders, mercenaries, and general idiots who were stupid enough to get themselves caught by his oaf of an adopted brother and his sycophantic friends. He supposed he could consider them companions if he got desperate enough, though that time would be centuries down the road, when he was dumbed down to drooling in the corner from lack of anything interesting to do or think about. Almost mindlessly his fingers clasped around the top book, the one he'd been staring at, and flipped open to a familiar page, a blank, white mask staring up at him, the owner of which had his hands stretched upwards. He knew the book well, had dog-eared and marked it when he grew up and learned to read, had loved this story more than he likely ought to have. 'Perhaps it was the first marking of a monster,' he thought with a snide smirk, slipping down onto his paper thin mattress to eye the well-worn pages.

"Tell us the story of the dark elves, mother!" Loki begged his mother, tugging at her purple robes, grinning up at her with the biggest, brightest eyes he could manage, as Thor bounced around the room, his fake sword held aloft as he came to jump on their bed.

"I'll slay them all!" He proclaimed, already showing the signs of a warrior, while Loki had been thin and quick even in youth. The blond princeling turned his broad grin to his brother and mother, the latter of which was chuckling in earnest before chiding him to get down, off the bed, and taking the book from Loki's outstretched hands in order to move and sit on the other, unoccupied bed. Eagerly, Loki walked beside her, curling up beside her lap as she cracked the book, Thor coming to sit on her other side, both sets of eyes watching the pages shift and come alive with amazement.

"Born of eternal night," the queen started in her finest reading voice, powerful enough to give both boys shivers. "The dark elves come to steal the light. Their leader was Malekith, the strongest, and most cunning of the dark elves, for he held a weapon the others could only dream about. The Aether was beautiful, its red hue magical, and also dangerous, for with control of it came the ability to turn anything the light touched into something of darkness."

Loki couldn't help the breath that caught in his throat, watching as the red liquid, shifting on the page in the dark elf's hand, touched the rays of the sun just atop the page, and with contact the light began to go out, darkening where before it had once illuminated the page. At her other side, Thor tensed, and Frigga grinned to see her boys so engrossed in the story.

"Malekith sought to turn the world into the same darkness that the universe and nine realms had been borne from, wished to return everything to the way that it once had been. Though his intentions began as those in which he could better the living conditions of his people, the power of the Aether was vast and all-encompassing, consuming him until he could not see beyond his desire to control and destroy those who stood in his path. The Aesir, who wished to keep the nine realms safe and were led by your great-grandfather Bor, invaded Svartalfheim, where Malekith and his armies had amassed, and at the base of the Aether's home the two races fought. Malekith bided his time, watching as his men laid down their lives for the sake of their leader, while above him the convergence gathered strength."

"What's the convergence again?" Thor butted in, his eyes dark with confusion as he stared at the illustration on the pages, the circles that aligned slowly, then passed further away from one another.

"It's when the nine realms align, idiot," Loki scoffed. "Every five-thousand years."

"Don't call me an idiot, Loki!" Thor countered with a heavy scowl and a mean look .

"Then listen to the story, buffoon!" Loki shouted.

"Boys," Frigga said, and though her voice was calm there was an edge to it both of them knew better than to cross, her eyes falling on each of them in turn. "No name calling or bickering or I'll shut the book now and leave you to rest."

"No!" Came the identical chorus from both of them, causing Frigga to smile a little. Good.

"As the convergence gathered above him, Malekith turned to the Aether, knowing that the weakened space between the realms would only amplify its power, but at the last moment, before he could summon the power into his body the bifrost pulled it from Svartalfheim, hiding it deep somewhere in the nine realms where Malekith and his kin could never, ever find it again. In his fury, the leader sacrificed his own people in order to exact his revenge upon Bor and those who had defeated him."

The last page showed the enormous battle ships of the dark elves, towering masses of black technology, that crashed and crumpled upon the rocky ground. Loki could all but hear the screams of those who died in the battle, the soldiers slain by their leader and opponent, all dead in the end no matter what. Too great was such a cost.

"What happened to the Aether?" He asked, wide eyes staring up at his mother. She closed the book to look at him, watched the way that he thirsted for knowledge, his whole body practically trembling for it.

"It has never been found," she said, leaning over to kiss his forehead and envelop him in a tight hug, before doing the same to Thor.

"I will find it," Thor vowed, grinning when she pulled away and pushing his blond hair from his eyes, the same blond hair as Frigga's. Often a time Loki envied him those yellow locks, wished that he had such a strong connection to their mother. "I will find it and destroy it."

Frigga smiled and ruffled his hair, stepping off the bed so Loki could get settled in, his mother tucking him in first before attending to Thor.

"Never lose sight of what is important, Thor. You both will have many adventures to come," she assured them, setting the book down beside the table. "But your family is most important. Stick together, believe in one another, and the pair of you can accomplish anything-even find and destroy the Aether," she added, striding with quiet steps towards the door. In the frame she paused, and with the flick of her wrist the lights went out. "Goodnight my loves."

"Goodnight mother," they chorused, and though Thor was out nearly as soon as Frigga had shut the door Loki reached over to the book, opening it and watching as it came to light and replayed the story in front of his eyes again and again until he fell asleep with it pressed to his chest.

"That was always your favorite," Frigga's voice came behind Loki, and he might've jumped if he didn't feel so betrayed by his own memories. Instead all that came to him was anger, absolute and never ending rage. Thor called himself his brother, said they were equals all through life, and yet he sat on the pampered seat of the favorite child, the first born, the heir and true son of Asgard's king.

And Loki? Loki rotted. Loki seethed and schemed and hated the man who once called him brother.

"Was it not you who said Thor and I ought to never forget that we were family?" He demanded, spitting the last word out as though it were poison, whipping his head around to stare at her, eyes demanding truth. It was nothing more than a specter, a shade cast by his mother to check on him, and though he would never admit that he appreciated the company now he didn't want it at all.

"I did," she said, refusing, as ever, to back down from him, her own chin rising in defiance. "But you broke that pact between Thor and yourself when you turned your back on his help." Snarling, he watched her resolve deepen beneath her blue eyes and before he could think of a witty enough retort found himself thinking of another woman who'd stood toe to toe with him, refused to accept any of his word games or mischief, who'd played him for a fool.

'Natasha Romanov.'

The spy had often occupied his thoughts, he hated to say, never wanting to admit to just how she'd affected him from their few brief encounters. He despised her for what she'd done, for the fool she'd made of him, yet somewhere deep inside there was-well, surprise, and respect.

He wasn't sure if it helped her or only made him hate her more, want to take her pale throat between his hands and squeeze until he saw the light leave her blue eyes, or else slam her against the wall and press his lips hard to hers-.

"Leave me," he demanded his mother, throwing the book at her shade. It passed through her, and though he regretted it not a moment later it was too late to do anything, the book dissolving where it hit the ground as she reclaimed it. A new one took its place, an old journal of Loki's she must have found while going through his belongings. He left it where it materialized on the floor, lying down on the bed and trying to think of something, anything, besides the spy and the words his mother had left him. Remorse and regret were not a dishes Loki enjoyed sampling.