Okay, firstly, I am so sorry for skipping out on last week's update, real life wouldn't let me. Buuut you get a feelsy special now, so... forgive me? And this is, as you might guess by the title, going to be a two-parter, since these are already 13 pages and had I tried to do it all at once, you would have had to wait another week and I feel bad for the last one already.
Enough from me, enjoy Loki's POV of the last two chapters!
~Majinie
"Frost Giants," Odin breathed darkly and Loki shuddered slightly. It was happening. It was actually happening. Immediately, his eyes scanned the crowd for Freyr and Freyja, but among the moving crowd, he couldn't spot them, especially when his father's declaration caused the guests to scatter in panic, running into all directions at once. What unsettled him more was that he didn't feel the twins' energy signatures, either, but now was not the time to think about that.
By the time that he, Odin and Thor arrived at the vaults, the Jotun had been burned by the Destroyer's fire. They were just in time to see the metal creature retreat back into its place. Loki had to suppress a smirk at how wonderfully all of this was going. As if he would let the Jotun do any severe damage. No, they had done what he had meant them to do – interrupted the ceremony, which solved two of his problems at once: Thor wasn't going to ruin Asgard with his idiotic idea of leadership and his contract with Freyja was not fulfilled, meaning that Anthony was out of harm's way.
"They must pay for what they've done," Thor demanded while they were advancing towards the casket that sat safely on its socket. Loki followed, carefully sidestepping the body of a guard. He had thought about a way to reduce collateral damage, but there had been none that wouldn't have been suspicious. There were some things he would just have to live with.
"They have paid," Odin responded calmly. "With their lives. The Destroyer did its work, the casket is safe, and all is well."
"All is well?" Thor repeated incredulously. Loki was secretly thankful for his acting skills as he watched the scene unfold. This had been for a greater purpose, yes, but that didn't mean he could not enjoy watching his schemes come to life. Mischief was what he lived for. "They broke into the weapons vault. If the Frost Giants had stolen even one of these relics..."
"They didn't," their father interrupted just as calmly as before, his gaze fixed on the casket.
"And I want to know why!"
Loki glanced back and forth between the two, his eyebrows raised. Didn't Thor see that this was pointless? Of course he does not, he reminded himself, that is why he is not fit to be king. Although I do have to give him credit for the fact that he does not demand war, but asks for reasons.
"I have a truce with Laufey, king of the Jotun," Odin replied.
"He just broke your truce!" Just a bit louder and the thunder god would be shouting. "They know you are vulnerable."
"What action would you take?" the All-Father asked patiently, turning around to face his elder son.
Without a beat of hesitation, Thor responded: "March into Jotunheim as you once did." And here we go. "Teach them a lesson. Break their spirits so they will never dare to cross our borders again!"
"You're thinking only as a warrior."
And yet you saw him more fit to become king than me?, Loki thought while he listened to the argument. Odin was a wise king and had the patience and finesse that Thor lacked as a leader, but still, he couldn't see that his elder son was simply not ready for something as heavy and important as a throne. Loki didn't understand how their father could be oblivious to something like that.
Without saying one word throughout the whole thing, he watched them trade yells back and forth, he himself growing more and more impatient by the second because they had been down here for a while now and he still had to check on Anthony, until Odin finally ended the discussion with telling Thor that he had no right to decide anything about the actions to be taken because he was not king, not yet.
Thor watched their father storming out of the vault, his hand clenching around Mjölnir, and Loki suppressed a sigh. As neutrally as he managed, he asked: "Well then, shall we?" The thunder god just grunted something unintelligible in response and stomped off. Loki rolled his eyes as soon as his brother's back was turned towards him, but he still followed the blond god. Thor's rage was obvious in the trembling of his hands and the tense line of his shoulders. Loki decided to accompany him to his friends so they could somehow distract him from his rage; then, he could look after Anthony without a bad conscience.
The elder god stormed into one of the smaller dining halls and, with a scream of fury, overthrew the table in the room's middle, food and drinks scattering over the floor.
"Now, what was that about wasting good wine," Loki muttered to himself. He had wanted to stay in the background and just watch Thor until the Warriors Three found him, but now, he found himself slowly stepping out from the column he had been standing behind and sitting down next to Thor. Damn it, I have better things to do than care about your temper tantrum!
"It's unwise to be in my company right now, brother," Thor growled as Loki lowered himself to the stairs next to him. "This was to be my day of triumph!"
You are such a child, the mage thought with an internal eye-roll. He must have picked that habit up from Anthony. Quietly, soothingly, he said: "It will come. In time."
"What's this?!" Volstagg's voice cut through the silence. Finally. Somebody else to have an eye on Thor.
"If it's any consolation," Loki murmured to Thor, intending to initiate his parting words, "I think you are right. About the Frost Giants, about Laufey, about everything." The lie couldn't be any more obvious, but it fell smoothly from his lips and was exactly what Thor wanted to hear at the moment, so he knew his brother wouldn't doubt a word he said. "If they found a way to penetrate Asgard's defences once, who is to say they won't try again? Next time with an army."
"Exactly!", Thor agreed almost feverishly and it took Loki quite some self-control to suppress his laugh at how easy his bait had been taken.
Still, he worked to put a damper on Thor's building fit of righteous fury: "There's nothing you can do without defying father." Suddenly, Thor was quiet, staring at Loki as something formed in his eyes. "No," the younger prince said, raising his index finger. "No, no, no, no, no, I know that look."
"It's the only way to ensure the safety of our borders!", the blond said, voice rising and full of determination as he rose from his place.
"Thor, it's madness," he tried again. I have better things to do than babysitting you, you dumb oaf!
"Madness?" Volstagg asked from the other end of the room, where he had been stacking piles of food over one another. Great. "What sort of madness?"
"We are going to Jotunheim," Thor declared, his voice devoid of any mirth or an indication that he was joking. Loki took a deep breath. This was not how he had planned this conversation to go.
There was an incredulous laugh from Fandral and the swordsman asked: "What? This isn't like a journey to Earth, where you summon a little lightning and thunder and the mortals worship you as a god. This is Jotunheim!" The last words were more of a hiss than anything else, as if he feared that speaking its name out loud would summon the Jotnar back to Asgard.
Listen to him, Loki pleaded mutely. Just once in your life, listen.
"My father fought his way into Jotunheim! Defeated their armies and took their Casket!" The younger prince dropped his head into his palm and sighed quietly. "We would just be looking for answers!"
"It is forbidden!" Sif snapped.
And Thor? Thor laughed. Walking towards his companions, he demanded: "My friends, have you forgotten all that we have done together?" No, Thor, they are thinking and you refuse to do the same! "Fandral! Who brought you into the sweet embrace of the most exotic maidens in all of Yggdrasil?"
Closing his eyes with a defeated smile, the swordsman responded: "Well, you helped. A little." Not you too!, Loki thought desperately. You, all of you, are supposed to look out for him and not grant him his every wish! Fandral met his eyes with a look that could be called apologetic. Loki gritted his teeth and looked towards Hogun, whom Thor was approaching next. He was the one who didn't talk much, but thought more than the others. Be the voice of reason when I couldn't.
"And who led you into the most glorious of battles?" Thor demanded.
With the hint of a smile, Hogun admitted: "You did."
Loki wanted to beat his head against the column. Several times, possibly.
"And who brought you delicacies so succulent that you thought you had died and gone to Valhalla?" Thor continued, clapping a hand onto Volstagg's shoulder. Now, Loki hadn't held out any hopes for that one, and the "you did" that the oaf answered didn't surprise him in the slightest.
Thor laughed, turned towards Sif and demanded: "And who proved wrong all those who scoffed at the idea that a young maiden could be one of the fiercest warriors this realm has ever known?"
"I did," she replied without one second of hesitation. Please, Sif, at least you. Stop him.
The thunder god opened his mouth, closed it again and then replied: "True, but I supported you." He stepped up onto the golden stairs surrounding the dining hall. "My friends, trust me now! We must do this. You are not going to let me and my brother take all the glory, are you?"
Loki's eyes snapped up in surprise and, before he could stop himself, he heard a quiet "What?" escaping his lips. He could practically hear Thor deflating behind him.
"You- you are coming with me, aren't you?" his elder brother asked, much quieter than before.
The mage swallowed. Since the news had reached them that Thor was going to b king, the prince had done nothing but rub it in his younger brother's face, gloating in his triumph without sparing a thought to how it affected those around him. Now, that he was asking Loki to go with him (no, assuming that Loki was going to come with him), he was torn between giving in and, for once, enjoy Thor's attention, or look after Anthony.
It took him all of two seconds to decide.
"I can't," he replied.
"You can't?" Thor repeated. "What do you mean, you can't?"
"I mean what I said. I have things to do, Thor, and those are more important things than aiding you in getting your will," he responded calmly.
"Is it that?" the elder prince demanded, his voice rising again. "Are you scared? Sif is more of a man than you, coward!"
Oh, would you look at that. All the brotherly feelings gone in the blink of an eye.
"I am not scared, Thor, but other than you and your idiotic friends, I do not refuse to use my brain!" Loki snapped, rising to stand before Thor. "What you are doing is not only against the law, but also plainly suicidal. The only sensible thing to do would be stopping you, but since I doubt that you are actually listening to a word I say, I am not even going to try that. No, go, go to Jotunheim if that makes you happy, but don't call me a coward when I am trying to protect you, you stupid oaf! Do what you want, but do not expect me to come after you and save you when you mess up."
Without waiting for a response (arguing with Thor was pointless, he had learned that long ago), he spun on his heel and jumped down the steps to leave the hall. When he passed him, Fandral stopped him with a hand on his arm.
"Loki...", he began, but the prince whirled around and hissed: "The same goes for you. You are a grown man, you don't have to follow Thor's every whim. If you choose to do so, then do not come to me to complain afterwards. You have your own mind, Fandral, use it or don't, but don't you dare blame me afterwards!" With that, he yanked his arm free and headed towards the throne room. No-one stopped him this time.
Anthony, the things I do for you, he thought drily to himself. His little speech had probably contained the most honest words he had said to Thor in years and for the first time in what felt forever, he hadn't done what he had just accused Fandral of – followed his brother's every whim, equally wanting to protect him and gain the elder god's respect. But he wouldn't let Thor's stupid impulsiveness keep him from making sure that Anthony was alright. He had wasted too much time already when he had listened first to the argument between Thor and Odin and then and then discussed with his sibling himself.
He reached the throne room and skipped the main entrance in order to reach the smaller, less conspicuous one to the antechamber. The closer he got, the more distressed he was – he could neither sense Anthony's energy nor that of the reactor. Of course, there was the possibility that the mortal had already returned to his chambers and the energy was obstructed by the masses of spells and stray magic in Asgard's palace, but even then, he should be able to catch that particular, unusual energy signature.
She didn't dare, he thought to himself, a hand curled into a fist by his side while the other one pushed the door open. Slowly, he stepped into the room, glancing around for any traces of his mortal. There were traces of magic in the air, easy find for those who knew how to look for them and Loki felt anger rise in him when he recognized the tingle of Freyja's magic.
He had thought about this possibility, of course. He had thought about pretty much every possible outcome of this – but still, he hadn't expected Freyja to actually break their deal. She had to know that she was an outcast in Asgard after an action like this one and it had seemed unlikely to him that her petty revenge should mean this much to her. He hadn't expected this and Anthony paid the price for Loki's thoughtlessness.
The mage stopped in his tracks when he spotted the pale chalk circle on the floor. Despite the mixture of fury and bad conscience inside of him, he huffed a laugh as his eyes flickered over the runes in and around the circle. Either Freyja was more sly than he gave her credit for and this was a trap supposed to lure him in or she really was stupid enough to leave a rune circle that practically functioned as a map. He strongly suspected the latter.
"People keep asking me why I fool and trick others," he muttered, "but honestly, how can I do anything but if they make it so easy?" With the aid of the runes and the remnants of Freyja's magic in the air, it took him less than a minute to find out where they had gone. "You are not even trying now, are you?" he demanded at the empty room, feeling more than just a bit insulted. This was so easy that it was ridiculous. Who did she think he was?
Refusing to use the same clumsy teleportation spell as Freyja, he closed his eyes and focussed on finding the pathway that she had used. Moving between realms was much more complicated than simply jumping from one place to another in one world, but since the goddess had left a trail that was hard to miss, he didn't have to search for a pathway first.
Teleportation was a bit like wandering through a forest: Once somebody had created a path by trampling vegetation and resistance down as roughly as Freyja had done, it stayed for a while, making it much easier to use the way for anyone following before the fabric of reality righted itself again.
When Loki opened his eyes again, he found himself in a pathway that undoubtedly belonged to Vanaheim's palace. It's almost painful how stupid she is. As soon as he reached out with his mind, he felt the reactor's energy, soothing and lively at the same time. Right next to it, though, was Freyja, and somewhere near he could sense Freyr's magic, stronger than that of his sister. She had probably used up quite a bit of her reserves for the teleportation.
He considered just teleporting into the room where Freyja and Anthony were, but he had no idea what would expect him there. He would not be reckless like that and risk walking straight into a trap; he wasn't Thor, after all.
Instead, he cast a simple invisibility spell so he wouldn't have to bother with the guards and settled for a fast pace, almost but not quite running through the hallways into the more luxurious parts of the palace. Luckily, most of the nobles were in Asgard now and even those who weren't had no permission to enter this part of Vanaheim, since he already seemed to be in the wing that was dedicated to Freyja and Freyr. Still, the way took him longer than he had anticipated and with every step, he had to work harder to suppress the anxiousness that churned inside of him at the thought of what he might find, but he wouldn't lose his composure, not here. Not now.
Suddenly, as he was turning a corner with hurried steps, the energy from the reactor flickered and scattered until he wasn't able to feel it anymore. It made him freeze dead in his tracks for a moment, motionless with the shock of what must just have happened.
There is a logical explanation for this, he told himself, taking a deep breath. She wouldn't dare to kill him. She wouldn't.
Even faster than before, he ran through the corridors until he felt Freyja's energy at the end of a hallway. Without slowing down, he burst through the door at the end of it and immediately spotted Freyja, who whirled around at the sound of the opening door, recoiling as she saw him. After a second, she caught herself and snarled: "How did you get in here?"
She was blocking his view on the armchair behind her, but he could make out Anthony's black boots and a hint of leather trousers, could hear the mortal's laboured breathing. He was alive, and that was all that counted right now.
Aiming for mockery while he began to walk along the wall to get a clear view on Anthony, he responded: "Somebody left their chalk circle on the floor." Lowering his voice with a disdainful head-shake, he added: "Amateurs." Freyja's eyes followed his every movement carefully as he continued: "Now, I believe you have broken..." a deal, he wanted to say, but the words were stuck in his throat when he caught sight of Anthony.
The mortal was sickly pale, which made the colour of the blood running down from his nose and forehead seem even more vibrant. A leather stripe had been forced between his lips, functioning as a gag, he wore shackles that definitely weren't the ones he had crafted himself, and the dark green tunic he wore was tattered and hung open to show his scarred chest – and the crushed remnants of the arc reactor, hanging down by a single cable from its casing.
"How dare you," he hissed, the words coming out from between gritted teeth. Without thinking about it, he stepped forwards to reach Anthony, but right in front of his eyes, Freyja pulled the man up by his hair, yanking him towards her. Loki noticed that Anthony winced as soon as he put weight on his right ankle and tried to avoid stepping on it as far as possible.
He watched, frozen in place, as she pressed a blade to the mortal's, his mortal's throat, making him go stock still. They had been there before – the last time, he had tricked her with a clone, but there was no guarantee that that would work again, and he wasn't willing to try it on the risk of Anthony's life. Anthony, whose large brown eyes were fixed on Loki, frightened yet trusting that the prince was going to find a way out of this.
Freyja, audacious as she was, spoke up: "I want you to..."
Loki had neither the time nor the patience to deal with her ridiculous antics. "I know what you want, Freyja," he interrupted, a feeling of rage inside of him that made him want to strangle somebody. Unconsciously, his fist tightened around an imaginary throat, tiny sparks of magic dancing around it, ready to strike. Through gritted teeth, he vowed: "But I give you a promise, and you can expect me to keep this one: Should he not stand next to me in the next thirty seconds, you are not going to leave this room other than in a coffin."
He watched her eyes going wide for a moment, but her grip on Anthony didn't relent as she uncertainly responded: "I am a member of the Council, you cannot..."
For Norns' sake, does she really not get it?! "You know that I can," Loki cut her off, voice rising slightly. Why did she even try to reason with him? Even a moronic spoilt princess like her should understand that she stood no chance. "Stop speaking, I refuse to engage in a battle of wits with an unarmed person. Hand. Him. Over."
The door opened behind him. Even before the man spoke up, Loki knew that Freyr had joined them: "I seem to have missed something. When did we grant him access to the palace?"
The prince didn't even deign him with a glance. He kept his eyes fixed on Freyja, watching as she grew more and more intimidated while he snarled: "When you morons failed to clean up behind you. Now, quit playing games, or there will be two Vanir funerals tonight."
Once again, Freyja began: "You wouldn't dare..."
Loki snapped. There were stupid people, he had long since accepted that, but no-one could honestly be this dense! "I would and you know it!" he yelled, louder than he had intended to.
"Leave it, sister mine," Freyr now chimed in. Loki was almost tempted to thank him for shutting his annoying sibling up. Well, maybe not killing him was enough of a show of gratitude.
"What are you doing?", Freyja demanded, a betrayed look on her face.
"Can't you see he is not in the mood for your games!" her brother shot back, approaching the goddess with hurried steps. Apparently, the stupidity didn't run in the family. "He shall get his beloved slave back if he longs for him so much." There was disdain in his voice, sure, but Loki was known to spew venom when he was in foul moods, and at least, Freyr put an end to his sister's shenanigans. With the last few words, the Vanir god had come close enough to Anthony and Freyja to block Loki's view on them.
He only noticed that something was wrong when he heard a startled sound from Anthony and saw Freyr pull back his hand, his white sleeves sprinkled with bright red stains. For a terrifyingly long second, Loki was frozen in place, his eyes widening in shock as Freyr brought the dagger forward again. The horrible sound jolted him out of his frozen stance and he surged forward, a choked cry on his lips. He reached the Vanir in four large steps, fast but not fast enough to prevent him from thrusting the blade forward a third time.
Loki grasped a fistful of Freyr's hair and pulled him backwards while the other hand twisted his wrist until he let go of the dagger, which fell to the floor with a clattering noise. Then, he yanked him backwards and let go. He heard a crash as the Vanir fell onto the low table behind him, leaving a few strands of white hair in Loki's fist.
When he turned his attention to Freyja, the goddess let go of Anthony. Without her holding him up, the mortal's knees gave in and he slumped forward, but Loki caught him with his arms around his torso before he could hit the ground. Anthony's hands were scrambling for purchase on his leather armour and Loki felt equal amounts of searing-hot fury and anxious worry that made his hands tremble.
"I swear to the Norns," he promised lowly and through gritted teeth, "if he dies, both of you will, and I will make sure that they find you in bed together!" He didn't pay attention to whether he got a response, he lowered himself and Anthony to the floor. He couldn't risk teleporting them before making sure that the wounded genius wouldn't lose consciousness during it. "Anthony, can you hear me?" he asked in a quiet murmur. The twins were fleeing the room, Freyr urging his sister on, but Loki really couldn't care less. "Stay awake, stay with me, Anthony," he pleaded. Don't leave me now, don't make this my fault!
Anthony's eyes had fallen shut and his breath came in laboured, pained gasps around the gag. With one slightly unsteady hand, he worked on untying it while the other one held the inventor halfway upright. He was frighteningly pale already and his breaths grew more shallow with every second as his head rolled limply to the side.
"I'm sorry, but I need you awake," Loki whispered before he pulled his hand back and slapped Anthony's cheek forcefully. The inventor jerked upright with a gasp, his dark eyes wide open and staring at Loki full of panic, confusion and pain. "Can you hear me?" Anthony shook his head with a pitiful whimper, but it clearly wasn't an answer to Loki's question. Finally, the prince managed to loosen the gag, pulled it out and tossed it to the side. With one hand, he took a hold of Anthony's jaw and made the mortal look at him. Forcing his voice to sound insistent and fierce, he ordered: "Do not close your eyes, focus on me. I need you to stay awake. Please, can you do that for me?"
The only answer he got was another head-shake and Anthony's eyelids were fluttering shut again, but Loki couldn't let that happen. Lowly, but stubbornly, he insisted: "I need you. To stay. Awake. Do not close your eyes, do not dare to close your eyes, stay awake for me. Focus on me, come on, please. I will teleport us now, and you have to stay conscious. Stay with me."
Loki couldn't let Anthony die here. Not because he hadn't made the preparations for Freyja to break their deal. Because he had been too blind to see that she was willing to do anything to get her will. Because he had let Odin's and Thor's antics stop him from looking for his slave immediately. He would never forgive himself if the mortal died because of his failings.
Determinedly, he began to weave a spell that would slow down the bleeding. Why had he never bothered to learn proper healing magic?
Because destruction suits you so much better, a whispering voice in the back of his mind answered. Chaos and destruction are what comes easy to you. Just think of Angrboda.
He forced these thoughts away when he saw Anthony clenching his jaw and grimace in pain as he took a breath and rasped: "Fre...?"
"Gone," Loki cut him off to spare the mortal the effort of speaking. "Both of them. They're not important now. I swear, you will never have to see them again, love."
He pulled Anthony a bit tighter towards him and closed his eyes to concentrate on the energy-draining teleportation spell. In here, he couldn't call for the Bifröst, and he didn't have the time to get Anthony out of the building. It would have to work like this. With deep breaths and the feeling of a weak, fluttering heart under his hand, Loki forced the fabric of space to make way for him. Partly, he was still able to use the way Freyja had created – maybe he would make her death less painful for that.
Still, he almost collapsed over Anthony's trembling body when they arrived at the healing rooms. He wheezed, crouched over the inventor and trying to regain his bearings. Using that much magic at once was nearly painful.
He took a deep breath and straightened himself to look down at Anthony. The man's breathing had gone shallow again and his eyes were closed, his body limp. "Anthony?" Loki asked quietly. He got no response. "Oh, don't you dare," he snapped in an almost scolding tone, "I will not let you go like this." Raising his voice, he shouted: "Eir! Eir, anybody, I don't care, I need somebody in here!" Why was nobody in the damn healing rooms?
Finally, he heard the sound of hasty steps out in the hallway before the door burst open. Laying Anthony down on a mattress, he glanced up and ordered harshly: "I need Eir in here this instant." The servant boy stared at him and then at Anthony's bloodied body with wide, confused eyes.
"Y-your Highness?" he asked. "How did you..."
"Didn't you hear me?" Loki snapped aggressively. "There is no time for your ridiculous babbling, get her into this room, now!"
"Yes, yes of course," the boy stammered and scurried away down the corridor, leaving Loki to keep Anthony awake.
Helplessly, he stared down at the mortal in his arms – yes, mortal, so very mortal, with the bright red of his blood staining the mattress underneath him, his ragged breaths and the tanned skin that grew paler with every weak heartbeat under Loki's hands.
He wasn't sure how much time had passed when the door was finally opened again and Eir came rushing in, the nervous boy from before in tow. It took her one glance at Anthony to start giving the boy orders, without questioning, without stalling. Loki had never been so grateful for that before.
"What happened?" she demanded after she had told her assistant to fetch water, a cloth and other things that Loki didn't really listen to.
"He got stabbed," the prince answered, trying to sound calm and probably failing. "Three... three times. And that was when I got to him, I am not sure what happened before," he added, glancing at Anthony's bloodied nose and forehead and the reactor.
The reactor. There was no use stopping the bleeding if he was going to be killed by metal shards.
"He needs a new reactor," Loki felt himself saying, knowing that Eir wouldn't understand what the device was. She had wetted a cloth and started to wipe the blood from Anthony's skin with fast, practised movements. "He can't survive like this, he needs it, I need to fetch it, it shan't take more than fifteen seconds to..."
"Just go, Loki, go!" she interrupted his increasingly frantic ramble, pulling Anthony from Loki's lap onto the mattress. The mortal's head rolled to the side and he didn't offer any kind of resistance or reaction, making the heavy feeling of fear inside of Loki grow colder and even more distinct.
"But you need to take care of him," he pleaded, eyes locked on Anthony's unmoving frame, "he..." He's only mortal and this is my fault. If I can't save him...
"I know what I am doing, will you get it now or won't you?", Eir snapped at him. Taking a deep breath, Loki nodded and focussed on another teleportation. It brought him to the laboratory and he immediately felt the energy of the old reactor, less... lively than the other, somehow heavier. Maybe that what just his negative association with it though.
He spun around until he spotted the blue glow of it, sitting exactly where he had carefully placed it on a shelf after his argument with Odin back then. With two hurried steps, he stood before it and closed his hand around the cold casing before he ported himself back to the healing rooms.
Eir was kneeling beside Anthony, her hands coated in blood, and pressed a cloth drenched in salve over the wounds. Loki immediately joined her, sitting down next to the mortal's head so he could reach his chest without hindering her in her work.
Gingerly, he took the cable in hand and lifted the broken reactor while he set the other one down beside him. A relieved breath escaped him when he saw that the cable and the... port, Anthony had called it, were still intact. He would just need to unplug the crushed reactor and connect the wire with the new one, right?
"Do you need help with that?" Eir demanded with a nod of the head towards the reactor, obviously meaning to get him out of his stupor.
Loki pulled himself together. "I'm fine," he answered, "it should work just like that..." With a forceful tug, he separated the crushed reactor from the cable and tossed it to the side carelessly. "Yes, it will do now, we will craft a new one later, but he needs this for the time being..."
Then, he turned to pick up the palladium-powered one, but jerked back around when he heard the sudden shout from Anthony. The mortal's body convulsed and arched off the mattress and for a moment, his eyes were open, unseeingly staring at the ceiling, before Loki managed to get a hold on the cable again.
"I am so sorry," he rushed out as if Anthony could hear him, "the cable, it touched..."
"Don't speak, finish it, for Norns' sake, Loki!" Eir snapped at him.
Loki flinched and nodded, holding on to the cable as he reached for the reactor behind him. Carefully, he connected the wire with the reactor and exhaled a sigh of relief when he heard the quiet click which told him that the connection was successfully made. He lowered the reactor to its housing and fitted it in, twisting it until it fell into the right position with another clicking sound.
"Alright," he breathed, glancing at Anthony's pale face. His eyes had fallen shut again, but he didn't look as lifeless as before; the lines of his face were tense, his brows drawn together in a tight frown and his jaw clenched. "What now?"
"Does this thing do anything to stop the bleeding or speed up his healing process?" Eir demanded while she pressed more cloths onto the wounds. The prince shook his head mutely and she looked down at her blood-stained hands before glancing back up at him, implication heavy in her gaze. "I do not believe that his body can take the blood loss," she said carefully. "I have never treated a mortal before, but his wounds aren't closing. At this rate..."
"No," Loki interrupted, "no." He grasped Anthony's hand tightly and glared down at the mortal. "I know that somewhere, you can hear me, and I dare you to die on me. I dare you!" he hissed and then looked around the room until he spotted the servant whom Eir had brought with her, standing by and waiting for orders. "You," he said sharply.
"Y-yes?" the boy stammered, drawing himself up straighter.
"Go and fetch me an apple," Loki ordered, voice clipped and tight. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Eir pause in her movements to stare at him, but he didn't take his eyes off the boy. "Well?"
"An apple?" the servant asked uncertainly. "You mean... one of..."
"Of course I mean one of Idunn's apples, you moron, or do you think I am ordering breakfast now?" the mage interrupted impatiently. "Go!"
"But," the kid objected, gesticulating towards Anthony, "he is a mortal."
"Congratulations," Loki drawled, sarcasm dripping from his words, "you have figured out the problem." Then, his voice rising to an almost-yell, he snapped: "Now, I gave you an order and I suggest you follow it, because if you do not obey now, I shall have you flayed alive by tomorrow!"
The servant visibly paled and ran out of the room. Loki exhaled a breath when he heard a raspy voice from underneath him: "Flay?" Anthony was staring at him with wide eyes, even brighter through the whiteness of his skin.
"He's awake," the prince informed Eir unnecessarily and then crouched over his mortal. "Anthony, can you look at me?"
Anthony's features twisted in pain and Loki saw him clenching his fists around the bedsheet as he replied weakly: "God no." He shook his head with a whimper when Eir applied more pressure to the wounds and begged weakly: "Just lemme sleep again, please, I don't..."
Loki shook his head and put a hand to Anthony's neck, pulling him upright and ignoring the weak sounds of protest as he insisted: "No, stay awake. You need to be awake, love, just for some more minutes. You can rest afterwards, as long as you wish, I promise. Just a little while longer." He took a shuddering breath as he saw how the mortal forced his tear-clouded eyes open, first focussing them on Loki, then on the room around him. His breath came in gasps, too shallow and fast to be healthy, but at least he was breathing, right?
A hitching sob tore itself from the mortal's throat when he saw Eir reaching for him and he clung to Loki like a lifeline, face hidden in the leather of his armour. The prince wanted to do nothing more than hold him tight and tell him that everything would be alright, but for once, he was afraid that it might be a lie. Instead, he ran a hand through Anthony's hair soothingly and breathed: "You will be fine, love, I promise. But you have to stay awake for a little bit longer." He felt the man's weak nod more than he saw it and kept murmuring to him softly, hoping that it would keep him alert.
When the servant entered the room some minutes later, Loki was crouched over Anthony and had begun to whisper quiet pleas for him to stay awake. They didn't reach the mortal, who had lost consciousness again a while ago and didn't wake up again since. If Eir noticed the prince's silent tears, she didn't comment on them.
He looked up when he heard the sound of the door and extended a hand as he demanded: "Give it to me." The boy looked shell-shocked for a moment at seeing the usually so composed prince in a state like that, but he quickly recovered and handed the apple over to Loki.
With shaking hands, he pulled out a small dagger and broke the apple's smooth, golden skin with it, neatly parting it into eight small pieces. Then, he shuffled until he could pull Anthony up to lean with his back against Loki's chest. He frantically fought back the nagging thought that it was too late, too slow, I can't do anything, it's my fault because he had to believe that it would all be alright. He had to.
"Help me," he demanded at Eir, hating how desperate it sounded. She nodded and Loki held his mortal upright with one arm slung around his chest, the other hand tipping his head upwards so the healer could break one of the slices in two and push one part of it between Anthony's lips. Loki massaged the man's throat gently until he felt the swallowing reflex kick in, followed by a cough and weak struggling from Anthony. He pressed his hand over the inventor's mouth and held him a bit tighter when he felt him trying to spit the piece of apple out again. Only when he felt Anthony swallowing, he let go and whispered, attempting to sound calm and collected: "Shht, yes, just like that. Keep it down. A little more, love, a little more." Slowly, the resistance died down.
It started right up again when Loki took the next piece, forced it between Anthony's lips and held the mortal's mouth shut again, even when he felt the weak head-shake and heard the choked-off sob from him, felt his powerless struggles.
"It's for the best, love," he promised quietly. He wasn't sure how many of his words even registered in the man's delirious state, but he kept speaking anyway. "I need you to stay strong for me, can you do that? Come on." He felt him swallow and reached for another slice of apple.
"Loki, please," Anthony whimpered when his lips were free again, "stop it."
"Soon," Loki murmured. "A little more, just like that." He pressed another slice between the mortal's lips and felt him actually chewing on it before he swallowed. "Good, yes," he whispered, "you almost did it, love."
After a while, Anthony's struggles ceased and he let himself be fed, slumping back into Loki's hold. The prince took it as a sign that he was accepting the treatment and not just lacking the power to resist any longer and he never stopped muttering encouragements and praises along every step of the way.
Anthony finished the whole apple and, apparently when he realized that nothing more was going to come, relaxed further and seemed to fall unconscious not even a minute later. This time, though, his breathing sounded more regular, and when Loki carefully ran a hand over the mortal's stomach, it came away slick with blood, but the wounds had superficially closed already with fresh, tender skin over them.
Slowly, the prince lowered Anthony to the mattress and brushed a sweaty strand of brown hair aside to press a lingering kiss to the mortal's forehead. Then, he straightened himself and rubbed a hand over his own face, hoping that he didn't smear blood and tears even more while he took some deep breaths. The panic began to finally dissipate and left him feeling hollow and exhausted.
"Alright," he sighed after a moment. "Is there anything else we can do for now?"
"I don't think so," Eir replied with a head-shake. "He needs to rest and obviously, he does not need any help falling asleep right now. I will clean him of the blood as thoroughly as now possible, and everything else will be done by his body itself." She looked down at the golden apple's core and then at Loki. "You do realize that the All-Father will not take this kindly."
"Anthony lives," Loki responded. "Father rarely approves of my actions anyway, and if he decides to punish me, then it will be worth it." Eir looked at him for a long moment, then nodded and ordered her servant to fetch fresh water and a cloth.
Suddenly, her words reminded him of something else that Odin wouldn't approve of. Thor and his stupid friends were still in Jotunheim, he wasn't sure for how long now, and he knew his brother's attitude good enough to be sure that they were in trouble by now.
Taking a breath and drawing himself up, he asked: "Can you handle him from here?" Eir gave him a deadpan look that dared him to ask such a silly question again and Loki nodded with a small smile. "Very well. I might have to rescue somebody else."