Summary: Loki gets a visitor, and Tony gets to take a bath.

Chapter XV—May Not Have Been Entirely Honest

Apology (noun): A regretful acknowledgement of an offence or failure

The sky was painted purple, with splotches of pale pink and gold, the sun a globe on the horizon. It outlined the broken turrets and dented roofs and spilled like warm liquid over the sheets of Tony's empty bed. A ray of sunshine was falling onto Loki's hand. He could feel the difference in the temperature, small though it was. His other hand was closed over his upper arm.

Tony was gone for the time being. He'd been given permission and time to bathe, and after two days of using a washcloth, it had to be a relief. Loki hadn't gotten further than a few steps around the room yet. He'd slept most of the day away while his body slowly recovered from the ridiculous amounts of power that had run through it. His skin was still overly sensitive to touch, albeit not to the point of pain. A tray with food rested on the table beside him, untouched. Eir would probably make him regret it, but he had no appetite and likely couldn't keep the food down if he tried.

Silence was a blessing. The roar of raw power still echoed in his ears, and he saw impressions of blue behind closed eyes. He needed a little stillness, a little peace. The near isolation of the last day had felt like a chance to slowly learn how to breathe again, how to take in the world, how to be alive. He hadn't told Tony, but somehow, the latter had understood and been content to share the silence when Loki had been awake.

They were going to make it. It wasn't a statement; it was a decision. Tony had kept reaching out and believing, and if nothing else, Loki desperately wanted to trust that stubborn power to believe. Perhaps if he never gave up as well… At least they had a chance, which was more than he would've dared to hope for a few days ago. How he was supposed to regain his independence and trust in himself was still beyond him, but there was a small voice in his head that claimed he would figure it out. He still wasn't entirely sure whether he should trust it or take it as a sign of insanity. With his luck, probably the latter…

Sighing, he crossed his arms behind his head. His chest felt tight, and he filled his lungs with as much air as they would hold, exhaled, and did it again. The tension abated.

He'd recovered from worse, and they had time. Perhaps… Perhaps it was no wonder he'd leaned on Tony so much. The Chitauri… he—Thanos—

Loki pressed the heels of his palms against his eyelids. He wasn't there. He wasn't there. Breathe. He was in Asgard, and Thanos was dead.

Slowly, slowly he forced the images away. Except they weren't gone. They were never truly gone, and they never would be, and perhaps… Perhaps it was all right to need Tony's help still. Perhaps he only had to become a little less dependant…

A breath in, a breath out. His chest was still somewhat too tight, somewhat cold and heavy.

It seemed achievable, however. He could do this. He could. Surely Tony would be there to help as best he could, and even if he weren't…

He turned his face towards the sun and breathed in, slowly, again and again. He wasn't weak—he'd survived the Tesseract, even controlled its power to some degree. A small part of him swelled with pride. He'd been terrified of losing control over the Cube, let alone letting it use him as a channel, yet he'd done it anyway. He could do everything else as well.

Somebody knocked on the door, and Loki sat up straight, senses sharpening. Eir never knocked. Hlin did, but her way of knocking was different, more comfortable and altogether softer. This was nervous and choppy, and it produced a dull sound, as if the person didn't remove his knuckles from the wood fast enough.

"Yes?"

The door opened, and Fandral slipped inside. Lok leaned forward just the slightest, ready to bolt from the bed any moment. What did the man want? Had he come to mock? What was there to mock anyway? Loki hadn't done anything wrong this time. If anything, he'd wielded power none of the Aesir could hope to control. Then again, they likely weren't happy about that...

Fandral stopped a little under teen feet from the bed, raising his hands in a gesture of surrender.

"I'm not here to bother you," he said.

"Then go."

"I'm here to apologize."

Loki blinked. Had he heard this right?

His eyes narrowed. "What for?"

"Um." Fandral shifted again. Clasped his hands, opened them again. Then he sank to one knee, fist over his heart, his head bowed, as a warrior should before his lord.

It felt off. The Idiots Four, other Asgard's warriors—they would never kneel in front of him unless protocol demanded it. This had to be mockery, but it didn't seem like mockery. Perhaps...it was genuine, but respect given only after he'd defeated Malekith for them, the kind of respect he neither needed nor wanted as it was merely another form of mockery to him. He wasn't a tool to be taken out of storage and admired when the need arose only to be forgotten and left to rot at other times.

He scoffed. His lips parted to snap at Fandral, but the latter spoke first.

"Things. Many things if you will let me."

Loki pressed his lips together. It couldn't be that Asgard's most famous womanizer actually planned to apologise for separate incidents, as opposed to following Thor's lead with "whatever I have done". It couldn't. This was a joke. Any moment now, Loki would find out what was supposed to be funny.

"Get up," he said, words clipped. Fandral did. Loki squared his shoulders and made a quick gesture with his hand, then made it again. If this was to end in humiliation, he'd rather have it over with as quickly as possible.

"Treason." Fandral clasped his hands in front of him, worrying his fingers. "Failure to swear loyalty. Undue accusations. Acting on assumptions."

Loki pressed his lips together. Muscles in his back were pulled taut from the effort to sit ramrod straight. Breathe in, breathe out. As surprising as it was to hear an actual apology, he had no idea what to do with it. Did Fandral think apologising—for treason of all things—would make everything all right? Treason was punishable by death or banishment at the least, and he— he thought—

"Did you know," Loki said slowly, every word like lead on his tongue, "it was Mother who made me regent and had Gungnir placed in my hands?"

Fandral shook his head. "No, my...liege."

"Don't."

Was that his voice, shaping words? It sounded as if it were coming from somewhere far away, somewhere not him because he wasn't in his body anymore, and yet he could feel everything too intensely. The breaths stretching his lungs, too shallow, too short. The last sunrays heating up his skin. The sharp hiss of his inhales. "Don't call me that."

"My apologies. What…should I call you?"

Nothing. "Loki," his voice said. That was all he was, in the end. Aesir, Jotun, prince, criminal—he never fit any of the roles. Being Loki was enough, Tony had said. It was enough, it was enough.

"What did you think?" He spit out the word, voice rising at the end. "That I planned all that? That I planned to have Thor banished? That I murdered Mother and Allfather and put myself on the throne?" His fingers were clutching the edge of the sheets; he couldn't feel them anymore. "Why would I do that? By Nine, why would I do that?! Does it sound like a good plan to you?! Slay the king and have half of Asgard after my head before morning?! Does it!?"

Fandral took a step back, worrying his lower lip. If only it would open and bleed. Something inside Loki was screaming for blood and thrumming with the need to hurt, and pummel, and kill.

"It does not," Fandral said quietly, and Loki wanted to slam him against the wall with enough force to crack the stone, but he couldn't move, he couldn't breathe—

"We thought it was too convenient for Thor to be banished and the Allfather to fall into the Odinsleep at the same time."

"Convenient." Laughter bubbled on his lips. "Convenient. Truly, he couldn't have chosen a better time."

"You were going to kill Laufey. And destroy Jotunheim. Thor said that. You were going to kill the entire race."

He pressed his lips together, and Fandral continued. "What happened on the Bridge?"

"Hasn't Thor told you?" Why was Fandral asking these things? He couldn't want to know, nobody on Asgard ever did. It didn't make sense.

"Yes."

"Then why ask me?"

"Because Thor… May not have been entirely honest."

"Elaborate." The muscles in his back were burning from effort by now, but he couldn't get them to relax.

"I don't really…" Fandral shifted again. His gaze slid to the floor, then back to Loki. "You came back to Asgard to fight for us. Why? You hate Asgard. Asgard doesn't particularly like you either."

Tony had been here. He couldn't have abandoned a world with his Tony on it. And Mother…

"I had my reasons. Of course you're right. There is no love lost between Asgard and I. Tell me, how many grumbled when Odin pardoned me?"

Fandral let his head fall towards his chest. "Many thought he let you off too easily." A pause, then he looked up again. "But he didn't, did he? I saw your mortal when he first came to Asgard. The Allfather left with him. Two days later he was back with news, and I swear half the universe breathed a sigh of relief. Did you kill him? The Mad Titan, I mean?"

He twitched backwards before he could even attempt to hold still. "No," he said even as Fandral frowned, "Tony's weapons did."

"But you had something to do with it, didn't you?"

"What does it matter?" he snapped. Thanos, Thanos—he didn't want to think about him, didn't want to even think about thinking, and his composure was slipping—

Fandral took a deep breath. "Apologies. I think I might be getting at all this in the wrong way."

What did he even mean? What was this? He'd mentioned this and that, bits and pieces from most of the uncomfortable topics, but how were they connected? What did the Mad Titan have to do with the treason Fandral had committed? Was this really an attempt at apologising?

Loki forced himself to take a deep breath and think. It couldn't be so hard. Bits and pieces. He just needed to take the right bits and pieces, and they would paint him the picture. Was that what Fandral was doing? Trying to piece something together?

He frowned. Information gathering then, but for what purpose?

"Try the right way," he said. If Fandral tried to pull information out him, he would notice.

"I'm not certain there is a right way," the warrior said and ran his hand through his hair. "In short, I've done and said many things in the past you probably didn't deserve. I have no doubt that you protected Asgard for your own reasons, but the fact remains that you did, and you've done it many times before that perhaps… we weren't entirely aware of. I suppose what I'm trying to say is that I think you're not as bad or as wrong about things as I use to think and—" He cut himself off, swallowing. "I saw you," he said, voice quiet and raspy as if it had been meant to come out much stronger. It made Loki's insides go cold.

Here was the other shoe, Tony would say. Or did it drop? Something happened to the shoe, of that he was certain. Either way, he felt the trap close around him.

"In the ice," Fandral went on, looking here and there, but never at Loki. "You arm was blue. Are you a… you know. Of mixed blood?"

Loki's lungs felt as if his ribcage suddenly wasn't big enough to accommodate them. Fandral had seen him. He knew. An army of armed Arsier should be flooding the place and crying out for his blood. Fandral should be pointing his sword at him, telling him how everybody had always know Loki was rotten and wrong. Instead…

"I don't know," he managed. Magic was throbbing in his veins, ready to lash out. Mixed blood? Perhaps that would explain his size. Or he really was just a runt. Or perhaps whatever spell Odin had placed on him had inhibited his growth?

"But you're not… That is, the Allfather and Queen Frigga…"

"Why do you ask? Why do you ask all this?!" It made no sense.

"I suppose it might explain a few things. Except… If you're a—one of them, why would you destroy them?"

Loki swallowed. "I was loyal to Asgard at some point. Not that you would care to believe that."

Fandral turned on his heel. Made a few steps towards the window, turned back to Loki again. Clenched his fists and unclenched them and took a breath.

"Look. I know you owe me no explanation. You don't trust me, and it would not be exactly true to say that I trust you, either, but I give you my word, as a warrior of Asgard to my prince, that I will keep this a secret."

Loki stared at him. "Why? Don't you hate me?"

"No. I don't." Fandral ran his fingers through his hair again. "Many things have happened since the time you died. Or, well, were thought to have died. We've changed. You've changed. Things were said, by Odin, by your Anthony… I thought I should, perhaps, rethink my actions a bit. You did just protect Asgard."

Loki looked down at his hands. They were still clenched around the sheets, and he forced his fingers to relax. Fandral hadn't stabbed him in the back during the battle. He hadn't started mocking him yet, and an oath should have value, though there was no guarantee (who even made an oath to a frost giant?). The only security he had was the fact Odin didn't seem to want his realm to find out Loki's true heritage.

"I see. I accept your apology, but I have no forgiveness to offer."

Fandral's lips curled into a smirk that was gone as fast as it appeared. "I would be more concerned if you did."

Loki didn't say anything.

"Right. Well. I'll make myself scarce." Bowing, his fist over his heart, Fandral turned and left the room. Loki sagged against the pillows, his muscles nearly groaning in relief. He closed his eyes, but the stillness he'd been enjoying before evaded him now.

~*oO*o*Oo*~

"I feel alive again," Tony announced as he pushed open the door to the room he and Loki had been staying in for the last couple of days. He was finally truly clean; wet cloths were nice, but you could only do so much without running water, and the absence of a decent shower brought memories of Afghanistan a bit too close. (That and his beard needed trimming to achieve the desired effect.)

Loki gave him a smile that was strained around the edges. Covers were wrapped around him like a shield.

"What's new, snowflake?" He sat down by Loki's hip. The clothes he'd been given, although Aesir, weren't made of leather this time; they were thin and soft, and allowed a surprising range of movement. "Thor came to drop off his fruit basket?"

With a slight frow, Loki shook his head. "We need to talk."

Well, that didn't sound ominous at all. Last time, Loki had decided to cut him right out of his life. But they'd talked, cleared things up, even.

"I have to… tell you something. Two things."

"Yes?"

Loki opened his mouth to speak. In that moment, the door swung open again, this time to admit Thor.

"Loki! Friend Anthony! I've received word you're awake!" His cloak pooled around him as he moved, revealing and hiding red leather. A few fading scratches marred his cheek. All in all, he looked precisely like a warrior who'd walked out of battle victorious and was busy celebrating, and Tony would bet a considerable portion of his car collection that that was exactly what Thor had been doing.

"You reek of mead," Loki said, grimacing.

"I don't reek, I've barely had any today."

"You've been celebrating for three days."

"It's been a glorious feast. You should join us, now that you're well enough. If, you know, you…"

Loki's arched brows were quite an appropriate reaction. It wasn't like Thor to stumble over words or be unsure of what he was trying to say.

"You brought Asard victory, brother. Loki. There is space for you, should you wish to join us. You, as well, Friend Tony."

"Thanks, Hercules." Not that Tony was too keen on joining. The last feast had Loki fleeing the hall with a panic attack, and he wasn't big on repeating that, thank you very much. Loki would be the one to decide anyway.

Thor moved his gaze from one to the other.

"I have a conversation to start with Tony," Loki said after those blue eyes landed on him for the third time.

"Surely—" Thor snapped his mouth shut. "Very well. I shall see you afterwards."

Then he was off. Tony's gaze lingered on the door. "Is it just me or…"

"Or," Loki said. "Fandral came to see me."

Tony's eyebrows rose. That couldn't be good.

"What did he want?"

"To apologize." Loki frowned, narrowing his eyes. "I'm not certain… He didn't appear to be lying. However, for him to…" He shook his head. "He saw me shed the glamour."

Tony felt every muscle in his body constrict. His lips parted, but before he could speak, Loki's fingers closed around his forearm.

"I have his word that he wouldn't tell. Of course a word given to a frost giant may not mean much, but nobody has come after me yet, and he certainly hasn't shared the news with Thor. I could tell that much."

"So you think it's relatively safe to assume he'll hold his tongue?"

"I'd say yes. Be prepared for the worst regardless." Loki bit his lip and turned towards the window, then sharply back again. "If he plans to keep his word, he gained nothing by confronting me."

Perhaps not… But then, perhaps he had. Fandral was too full of himself and too much of a poster boy for Asgard, but he had stood at Tony and Jane's side against those bullies, and even defended Loki in a way.

"I can't believe I'm saying this, but I think he tried to prove himself trustworthy, in a way."

Loki started drawing patterns on his palm with the thumb of his other hand. "He has no need of my trust."

"I don't know. Imagine the situation happening to someone else, not you." Tony ran a hand through his hair, catching a whiff of spruce and some heavy sweetness; the oil he'd used in the bath still clung to his skin. "I need a drink. And my leather couch, and a family-sized pizza."

Loki sighed, but an ever so minute of smiles appeared on his face. "Soon. I have apples to gather and unfinished business with Odin."

"Yeah?"

"In return for helping him fight the war, I get to ask for something."

That didn't sound too bad, as far as unfinished business went. Still…

"What will you ask for?"

There was a moment of silence, and then another. Loki exhaled audibly.

"All that is rightfully mine."

A/N: Thank you for reading. There's one more short chapter to come. Reviews are love.

~shades