Author's Note: Here comes the fun part.

No, not the romantic fluff. Be patient. I'm trying to keep that aspect in-character the best I can, and Loki doesn't strike me as the type to hurry along the make out sessions unless he has an ulterior motive. It'll come along eventually. Not yet.

The 'fun' part I refer to is action. After all these angsty chapters, I'm going to wrap that segment up the best I can with a little more emotional content and move on to the PLOT motion. So pull out your Hans Zimmer soundtracks and find the edge of your seat. Or, you know, not. But if you want, feel free.

Also, kudos to reviewer MugglebornPrincesa for catching an error in the last chapter. I thought that phrase seemed wrong when I typed it…Anyway.

Moving right along…

CHAPTER TWELVE

Loki didn't speak at all during dinner. Darcy didn't force the issue, for which he was silently thankful. She went on as if nothing had happened—as if the two of them had not conversed since they left the previous shelter. She even made a valiant attempt at translating the writings on the walls, although Loki wasn't sure how much of this was based upon interest and how much was a vain attempt to distract Jane from his silence—or cheer him into speaking with her more ridiculous efforts.

By the time the trio had finished dinner, however, Darcy seemed to realize that Loki really was not interested in talking. She made a show of going to bed early, sleeping farther back in one of the tunnels that branched off from the main room. The minute she had finished clearing up after the soup, she scurried off down a hallway to sleep on her own.

He was left alone with Jane.

She, too, seemed to understand that he was not inclined to speak, but she was less gentle about it than Darcy had been. Actually, she seemed somewhat irked by Loki's moping—not angry that he had lied, just annoyed by his present state.

After a few moments, she cleared her throat quietly.

"I heard what you said to Darcy," she admitted. "I tried not to listen, but it echoed a lot. It was hard not to hear."

Loki glanced at her to acknowledge that he heard her and promptly continued staring at the fire.

Jane scowled. "Just because Norse mythology says something is true doesn't mean it is," she muttered. "I mean, the stories said that you gave birth to a horse. How crazy is…" She saw his face. "Oh," she said quietly, looking startled.

She seemed at a loss for words. Loki decided it was worth speaking to set this particular record straight. "I didn't give birth to a horse," he said brusquely, "nor did I mate with one. I used magic to make the stallion believe it was having sex with the mare form I was inhabiting. The foal that resulted was a magical creation."

Jane nodded. "Ah. What about the other stories?"

He frowned. "Which ones?

Jane shrugged. "Sif's hair," she supplied hesitantly.

"Fact, but not by my hand."

"Sif and Thor."

"Fiction. But my moth—Frigga did always push that one."

"Hm." Jane's brow furrowed; she was obviously not happy with that idea. "Freya?"

"Fact. Generic, airheaded, vacant fact."

"You don't like her?"

Loki wrinkled his nose. "Not particularly. She's very pretty," he said hurriedly, "but…she's somewhat dim."

"Isn't that always how it works?" Jane said with a small smile. She stared up at the ceiling thoughtfully for an instant. "Balder's death?"

He hesitated for a moment before answering. "Half-truth." He grimaced. "And Sigyn is not my wife."

"Also 'dim?'" Jane teased.

"No," he said, suppressing a shudder. "She's a perfectly fine woman, moderately smart and pretty. She's just obsessive. They say she's the goddess of loyalty…what a massive understatement. She took a fancy to me about a century in your time ago and started clumsily attempting to seduce me every chance she got. It took me decades to fend off her advances." He shook his head, trying to will the subject from his mind. "Next story," he said decisively.

"Ragnarok."

Loki turned to give Jane his fullest scowl. "If you're going to bring that up—" he said warningly.

"I'm just saying…if half of these old stories are garbage, how do you know that this one is true?"

He sighed, his glare softening slightly. "I don't," he admitted. "But…" He shook his head. "Why bother getting my hopes up that I'm the good guy when the whole world so clearly believes I'm not?"

"Because it's the right thing to do."

Loki didn't have a reply for that. Honestly, he wasn't sure that right or wrong had anything to do with this. He had seen 'heroes' like his brother do terrible things, and he had seen villains who did good things to protect their own selfish ends.

Maybe that was it. Maybe it was their intentions that made them heroes…even if the side effects of what the heroes did were often horrific, they tried. They fought for their homes, for the people they loved, for good over evil and they did it as honorably as they could.

His inner voice scoffed. These mortals were turning him soft, worse than they had done to Thor.

He didn't move when Jane rose to find a place to sleep. He just kept watching the cerulean heart of the flames turn to tangerine gold, wondering when he began caring so much about right and wrong.

"When we reach the city, you mortals need to remain silent. I don't want any clumsy statements on your part ruining this negotiation. We are entering a very delicate situation, and it will take every ounce of wit that I have to ensure that this goes off without a hitch. Is that understood?"

Jane nodded.

"Clear as vodka," Darcy said deadpan.

Loki turned around and continued his stride towards the city rising up before them. He shivered. It was not cold as it had been for most of their journey, nor was the snow coming down as hard or fast as it was before, but the presence of so many jotun made him feel slightly unwell…and cold. It was almost as if someone was doing magic on him…as if the jotun…

"Look who decided to slink back to Jotunheim."

As if the jotun knew he was there.

He spun on his heel to face the speaker and found himself staring directly into the chest of a very tall, very ugly jotun guard. He looked up at the giant's face and put on his best charismatic smile.

"Ah, my kinsmen," he said brightly. "How kind of you! I was not expecting a welcome committee."

The jotun and his companions stared down at Loki angrily. The tallest one stooped over to speak more easily to him, his eyes flashing with scarlet fire.

"You are no brother of ours, traitor," he growled. Loki smoothed any sign of expression from his face. The giant seemed to interpret the change in his face as fear, and straightened up, satisfied. He glanced between the two women. "And who are these, brought into Jotunheim by the one who deserves no name? Warriors in disguise?" The giant leered, showing uneven, yellow teeth. "It is a very good disguise," he rumbled. "If any other than you had brought them here, I would have mistaken them for simple playthings." His eyes narrowed. "But we know your tricks, Laufeyson." He spat upon the ground and turned to his cohorts. "Take the mortals," he ordered them. His glare settled on Loki once again. "You are lucky that the General has commanded you be brought to him alive and unharmed. Else you would be dead where you stand, and I would be cursing your remains to be consumed by the dragon of Niflheim." He jerked his head at his comrades and strode towards the city.

Loki found himself compelled to stumble after the giant; he seemed bound around the ankles and wrists by some magic. He grimaced. This General had spared no magical talent amongst his soldiers to ensure that he came without a fight.

He glanced behind him at Jane and Darcy. Jane walked forth with her head held high, the only sign of fear in her body a slight shake in her hands and knees. Darcy, on the other hand, looked petrified. She wore a belligerent scowl on her face, but Loki knew her eyes well enough to recognize that she was scared. He gave her a vague half-smile. She returned it crookedly, her lip quivering. He noticed that her chin rose subtly, and her eyes seemed more resolved.

He turned around and followed after the giants calmly. He had this under control…this wasn't the plan, but he could make it work. He could make anything work.

After a long hour of trudging through thick snow, the motley convoy of prisoners and giants reached an enormous door of ice at the front of a building. Loki noted distantly that for a building of presumably civic-military purpose, the architecture was rather uninspired: it looked as if someone had broken off a hundred-foot-tall icicle and stuck it to the ground so it pointed upwards at the grey sky in a blue-white spire.

One of the guards jabbed him in the back. "Enough sightseeing, Laufeyson," the guard said in a gravelly voice. He paused to spit upon the ground after Loki's name. "We can see to it that you are given a room with a view before your execution."

The other guards guffawed at their comrade's wit, creating a chorus of rumbling bass-lines that collided with each other and rattled in Loki's ribcage. He smiled sardonically. "We shall see," he said quietly.

He hissed quietly as the door swung open with a low rolling sound. The inside of the building was—he had hardly thought it possible—even colder than the outside was.

Jane seemed to share the same sentiment. Her teeth chattered together loudly as cold air rushed out of the open door. Darcy was not as audible, but her lips pressed together in what looked to be an uncomfortably thin line and her cheeks began to show small rosy patches.

The head of the guards shoved what looked to be the remains of a very furry animal at Darcy. She held it out at arms' length, puzzled.

"They are furs," the guard said. "You mortals seem to have a fragile constitution. We wouldn't want you freezing to death. After all, it is not you with whom we quarrel—and it would be a pity for such fair faces to go to waste."

Darcy grimaced slightly and wrinkled her nose. Jane tried to hand the furs back to the guard. "No, thank you," she said coolly.

The guard forced her arms down roughly and tossed one of the furs back to Darcy. "We insist," he said in an oily voice. "Unless—" he shot a taunting look at Loki "—you can think of another way to generate heat?" Loki glowered back at the guard. He laughed thunderously at Loki's discomfort and turned to eye Jane and Darcy as they reluctantly draped the furs over themselves.

Loki gritted his teeth and tried to ignore the guards' disgusting leers at the women as their group continued down the hallway. Not worth a fight, not worth a fight, not worth a fight, he told himself.

The guards' mockery of aura abruptly vanished as they reached another doorway, this one gilded with precious metals and rough-hewn jewels.

Loki closed his eyes as the door opened. He gathered his composure.

Showtime.

They were greeted by a chorus of jeers.

"Loki Laufeyson!" bellowed a voice at the center of the hall. Loki opened his eyes to observe the speaker. Seated in an opulent throne of ice was a particularly huge frost giant, with skin that looked closer to dark gray than the usual shades of blue. His eyes, too, were unusual: they blazed orange with tiny gold flecks, like metal being forged in a fire, or the eerie gaze of an owl in the light. He did not, Loki noted regretfully, seem to be a stupid leader. It seemed that he had earned his title as General.

The General spat upon the ground as the prisoners drew near. Loki mentally rolled his eyes. Were they really going to do that every time they said his name?

"I cannot tell you how positively delighted I am to see you alive and well in my humble abode. After all," he said, rising to his feet and walking towards Loki with a saccharine smile upon his lips, "if you were already injured, I doubt that this would have quite the same impact."

Before Loki could flinch, the General's arm shot out, casting a bolt of icy lightning to strike him squarely in the chest. He cried out in pain, the scar in his back blazing to life once again as his knees gave out and he tumbled to the ground.

The room reverberated with laughter. The General's booming laugh rang out over all the rest, his growling tone mocking Loki with every echo that whispered back to his ears.

He shuddered slightly, but rose to his knees and gave the General his best benevolent smile. "My lord," he said, trying desperately not to let any sarcasm slip into his address of the beast, "I am already injured. Indeed, it is this injury which brings me back to Jotunheim…although I daresay I might have returned on my own just to revisit your delightful hospitality."

A hush fell over the court as every eye in the room turned to the forefront of the chamber. The General narrowed his eyes. "Injured?" he repeated, all taunt gone from his voice. "Why, then, have you come to us?" He smirked, an opportunity to mock presenting itself. "Were you hoping for a merciful release from your suffering?"

"I regret to disappoint you," Loki replied, "but no. It is something much easier to grant that I seek. And as an apology for my misguided prior actions," he continued, reaching into his coat pocket, "I present you with a token of my repentance."

He held out a small parcel in his hand for the General to examine. The giant took it suspiciously, throwing apart the fabric to reveal the contents of the package. He held it up for inspection: a tiny disc of transparent crystal rimmed with gold.

"It is an enchanted lens," Loki explained. "One may use it as you would an ordinary monocle, or it may be used to see great distances. To see beyond, all you must do is call it by name: 'Ysrad.'"

The General squinted at it a moment longer. Then, Loki's stomach fell: the General began to chortle.

"Oh, Laufeyson—" he gave the floor a perfunctory spit, "—you think that you can win the jotun race over with a simple trinket?"

Loki dared not reply. This was not the moment for razor-sharp answers. This was the time to allow rhetorical questioning to take its course.

The General shook his head. "No," he boomed. "This will not serve to repay your attempted slaughter of our people, regardless of how misguided you may have been. We do not forget, and we do not forgive. We simply make bargains." The General eyed the lens a moment longer. "This device may prove useful," he admitted. He glared at Loki darkly. "I shall, in return for this object, permit you to depart unscathed…this time. But your crimes against our world have not been undone."

Loki looked at the ground. He needed to think, but he needed to look like a dog with a tail between its legs at the same time. After a moment of pause, he turned to face the General once more.

"What would repay my crimes?" he asked.

The General smiled broadly. "Your death," he bellowed with relish.

Loki grimaced. "That was not exactly what I had in mind," he said flatly. "I was thinking something that is more within my power to give. Some item which might prove useful to your people…some service that you could use. I could, for instance, rebuild your cities even greater than they were before if you give me what I require to heal my injury fully."

The General's face turned sour. He stared at Loki with venom in his eyes. "Do you think this is about destruction?" he growled quietly. He pounded a fist against his throne; a corner snapped off with a crack that sounded like thunder. "Do you think that this is about loss of life?" he roared. "This is about honor! You, Laufeyson…" He did not even bother to spit; he seemed so enraged that such trivial matters were below his fury. "You betrayed our people! We do not take kindly to those who stab us in the back! You spat in our faces, and so we shall spit in yours! I am the General Orðin Leið! Whatever you cause me to suffer, I shall cause you to suffer a thousand times over, so that the fiery agony of the poison blood of Jormungandr could not compare!"

He quieted suddenly, seeming rather pleased with himself. "No, Laufeyson. There is no trinket you could give me that would repay your debt. Only your suffering would satisfy my tastes." His eyes lit up. "For instance...you could part with one of your lovely mortal companions. I imagine the suffering you would face at the hands of your Asgardians once they realize that you bargained with the life of a mortal as leverage would more than suffice."

He paused thoughtfully. "This is our bargain, Laufeyson. One of the women for what you require."