Okay, first of all, sorry that this took so long! I honestly didn't expect it to take so long, and especially not to get this long *sigh*. It's thirty pages now and it's just a damn special.
I decided to make another cut so I wouldn't have to make you wait even longer. Third part comes, hopefully, next week!
Before he teleported to the Bifröst, Loki stopped by at the palace gates to speak to one of the Royal Guards. With short, clipped words he told the man that he should inform Odin of Thor's trip to Jotunheim immediately, not leaving him the chance to reply before he vanished again and appeared in front of Heimdall.
The gatekeeper stood in front of the dome with a grim expression. He didn't flinch when Loki appeared in front of him and the young god cut off everything he might want to say as he spoke up: "Do you want to argue or will you let me pass so I can aid these fools? Because I would dare to bet with you that Thor has brought them into trouble." Heimdall stared at him for a moment, his jaw set, before he stepped aside.
Loki entered and cast a look around before he asked: "You did not leave the bridge open for them?"
"It is not possible," the gatekeeper responded. "Leaving it open for too long would unleash the Bifröst's power on Jotunheim without limitations, which would destroy the realm with all of you on it." Loki nodded his understanding and stepped forward when Heimdall opened the Bifröst, feeling the familiar pull.
He was dropped off in an icy wasteland. The landscape was almost black, there was no sun and it looked barren. Empty. Dead.
Loki didn't feel the cold as he looked towards the horizon. How could anyone ever overlook Thor, he thought drily as he saw the lightning illuminating the dark sky. Closing his eyes, he focussed on the next big energy source – Mjölnir – and once again cast a teleportation spell so he wouldn't have to walk all the way. It left him swaying slightly on his feet; he rarely used the spell this often in one day, especially not for travelling between realms like he had done to reach Anthony.
Taking a deep breath, he gathered himself and advanced towards the remnants of a castle from where he heard the tell-tale sounds of a battle. While walking, he conjured a dagger in each hand (an infinite magical wardrobe, as Anthony had called it, had its perks after all), and, as soon as he was close enough, threw one of them so it buried itself in the neck of a Jotun towering behind Fandral. The beast collapsed and Fandral turned around, a grin spreading on his features when he spotted Loki.
The prince allowed himself a thin smile before throwing the second dagger. His accuracy, together with the enchantments placed on the weapons made them effective enough to kill the Giants with one hit, although the blades were small compared to those that his comrades used. Ha, comrades. The idiots he had set out to save, again, because Thor wouldn't use his brain even if he got paid for it.
With another precisely aimed knife, he took out another Jotun and moved closer towards Thor. As soon as the distance was small enough, he yelled: "Thor, it's time to go!"
The blond god turned around, beaming as he spotted his brother. "Loki!" he shouted back.
Only because they were in battle did the mage not roll his eyes. Instead, he stabbed an approaching Giant and responded over the noise of the battle: "Who else would have come to get your moronic behind out of here?"
"I think you misunderstood, brother," came Thor's reply. "I am in no need of saving." As if to underline his words, he bashed another Jotun's skull in with his hammer.
"Of course not," Loki muttered, but before he could reply anything aloud, Volstagg's voice echoed over the battlefield: "Do not let them touch you!" The prince turned and glanced at the warrior briefly. He was clutching his arm, which already looked like it had suffered from severe frostbite.
Stabbing another one of the Jotnar, Loki snapped: "Thor, don't you see what you are doing? You are endangering your friends, do you truly want this? Let us leave now, we have to!"
"Then you go!" Thor shot back, waving dismissively. Blood-lusty moron. "I will be following."
The younger prince gritted his teeth. As much as he hated his behaviour, he wouldn't leave without his brother. For a few minutes, he silently fought alongside the others, trying to not let his weariness get the best of him.
It happened when he tried to kill another Jotun. Suddenly, the beast had its large hand closed around Loki's forearm, twisting it until he dropped his dagger, trying to pull away from the icy touch that – didn't hurt.
With wide eyes, the mage stared down at his arm, at the frost bending the metal of his armour until it fell away in small pieces. Panicking, Loki struggled against the hold of the Frost Giant, but his movements ceased when he watched the dark blue colour bleeding into his own skin, without pain, without frost burn, just with a rush of cold.
Everything seemed silent for a moment, the ice cold world standing still, and Loki slowly glanced up to meet the Jotun's blood red eyes, fixed on him with an intelligence, a look of understanding that should not be there. No, no, no, no... Before the Giant had the chance to utter a word in its raspy voice, Loki conjured another enchanted dagger and rammed it into the beast's heart, making it stagger and fall backwards. As soon as its hand left his skin, the blue faded away into a pale white arm once more.
For a moment, he stared down at it, then looked around to see if anybody had noticed the... the... event. Whatever it had been. Something that Loki didn't want to think about – not here, not now, not surrounded by dozens of Jotnar. Nobody seemed to have noticed what had happened and he felt relief making his body lighter, when suddenly a scream that was no battle cry echoed over the wasteland.
He whirled around and felt the panic return with full force as he caught sight of Fandral, impaled by an array of ice spears. His blood was drawing red streaks and freezing over on them where a particularly long one protruded from his back. Without thinking, Loki grabbed a dagger from his belt and sent it on its way towards the Frost Giant that had attacked Fandral. Not again. Not twice in a day, for Norns' sake! Before he could reach him, Hogun and Volstagg had pulled Fandral off of the spear, tearing another cry from the swordsman.
"Thor!" Sif yelled, followed by Loki's urgent "We must go!"
"Then go!" the stubborn moron shouted back, and Loki gritted his teeth in frustration, torn between running to Fandral and trying to heal him with what little healing magic he possessed or dragging Thor bodily of the battlefield. Not that he would be any good at either of those.
The sound of ice breaking and the shaking ground made Loki look over at the rock formation behind them, spotting a Jotun taller than the others who gestured with his arm imperiously. A large crack formed from where he stood, running over the ground towards a wall – a statue? The mage took a step back when he saw that no, that was not a statue, that was a beast. And it was obviously keen on tasting some Aesir flesh because as soon as its icy cage broke, it leaped into their direction.
With a last shout of "Thor!", Loki turned on his heel and broke into a run. He could simply have teleported away, but he had come here to save these morons and he would be damned if he just abandoned them now. He met Fandral's eyes; the swordsman was hoisted onto Volstagg's shoulders and watched the events unfold while fully conscious, yet uncharacteristically silent. Not that any remark from him would have been audible over the roar of the creature behind them.
Loki held his eyes while they all sprinted towards the Bifröst point. He would have gone back to save Thor, but he was more than confident that the blond oaf was surviving just fine on his own and probably having the time of his life during it. In case of emergencies, he still had Mjölnir to fly him out.
Some twisted, ugly part of Loki wished that he hadn't.
He shoved it into the back of his mind where it huddled up with jealousy, fear, and the image of his arm slowly turning blue that seemed to be burned into his retinas.
The deafening crash of the beast's tail hitting the ground tossed him fully back into the real world, where Sif surged forward to avoid getting pierced by the giant thorns on the tail's end.
Suddenly, there was a roar of thunder and Loki felt the ground shake underneath his feet as a bolt of lightning lit up the landscape. Please tell me you didn't. Without looking back, he could hear the ground breaking in behind them and sped his pace up even more. He would love to just grab Fandral and vanish from here, but no matter how much he disliked the others, he couldn't leave them here. Maybe they would learn the meaning of gratitude if he helped them out yet again – not that he actually held out any hopes for that.
Fandral's eyes were fixed on something behind Loki, doubtlessly the creature chasing after them. After his eyes grew wide for a moment, he laughed incredulously and the prince dared to glance over his shoulder, where the beast was... not. Not anymore. Apparently, it had fallen down into whatever nothingness lay beneath the ice that Thor's attack had cracked.
Anyway, they could not allow themselves to slow down. The ground was continuing to give in beneath their feet and they were jumping from isle to isle to avoid following the monster in its fall downwards.
"Heimdall!" Thor bellowed as soon as they were close to the point where the gatekeeper had opened the bridge, once for Thor and his friends and a second time for Loki. "Open the bridge!" The place was on the edge of a cliff, there was no way for them to go if Heimdall did not get them now, yet nothing happened. Loki glanced over at Fandral, whose breathing was more irregular and ragged than before. They couldn't afford to wait, why wasn't anything happening?
In the sudden silence, the crash of a giant paw on the ground was even more startling. The group flinched as one when the behemoth that they had thought to be rid off slowly pulled itself up the cliff's edge, swaying as it regained its balance before the dark eyes fixed on the group of Aesir in front of it. In a deafening roar, it bared fangs as long as Loki's arms and the mage took another tiny step back.
He couldn't die here. Not now, he had somebody to return to, he wouldn't let Anthony wake up surrounded by strangers. He couldn't.
Behind him, Thor took off from the ground using Mjölnir. Loki stared after him incredulously, but the beast straightening itself up, standing on two of its four massive legs, quickly caught his attention again. Together with the others, he retreated some more steps and cursed his exhaustion. He was sure that if his mind was working properly, he would have found a spell by now, but he couldn't possibly teleport all of them away, he simply lacked the strength for it right now.
Suddenly, the hiss of something fast moving through the air came from behind and in the next moment, a flash of red crossed Loki's vision before disappearing in the monster's mouth. Gaping, he stared at it as it tipped over and then fell to the side. Through its still opened mouth, the grey sky was visible and Thor landed on the ground before it with a heavy thud before it slid off the cliff and vanished into the valley beneath for good.
Thor turned around with a triumphant smile, but it faded as soon as his eyes focussed on what was behind his comrades. Loki turned and flinched when he took notice of literally hundreds of Jotnar all around them. For a moment, everything seemed frozen in place before the Giants began to advance towards the small group of Aesir; they stopped in their tracks when golden light illuminated the intruders and the crackle of lightning echoed through the wasteland.
A blinding flash of light made Loki raise an arm in front of his face protectively. After the darkness of Jotunheim's wasteland, the Bifröst's light was all the more painful to look at. He heard Sleipnir before he caught sight of his son, but before he could utter any form of greeting (not that that would have been appropriate in the situation anyway), Thor shouted: "Father! We'll finish them together!"
Loki would have loved to beat his head against some stone wall, or, considering the current options, against an iced rock. Would that fool ever learn his lesson?
"Silence!" Odin hissed harshly and the blond god deflated visibly.
The Jotun's leader – Laufey was his name, if Loki remembered correctly – rose up to Odin on a quickly forming podest of ice. With a deep, rumbling voice, he greeted: "Allfather. You look weary."
Truly, Odin was swaying in Sleipnir's saddle in a worrying manner, and his words were not half as imperious and impressive as Loki was used to when the old god answered, forgoing the taunt that the Jotun had begun their conversation with: "Laufey, end this now."
"Your boy sought this out," Laufey responded, his red eyes narrowing and darting to Thor, who still had the audacity to wear a sullen, almost challenging look.
"You're right," Odin responded calmly. The gazes of the Warriors Three diverted from the Allfather to his son while Loki kept his eyes fixed on the white-haired man. "And these are the actions of a boy. Treat them as such. You and I can end this here and now, before there is further bloodshed."
"We are beyond diplomacy now, Allfather," Laufey growled. His deep voice sent an unpleasant shiver down Loki's spine. "He'll get what he came for. War and death."
"So be it."
As if that had been some sort of permission, the Jotun leapt at Odin. The All-Father raised Gungnir and a gust of wind swept Laufey off his feet and caused him to topple over while the golden light of the Bifröst began to illuminate the scenery. Before another of the monsters could try their luck in reaching them, the whole group was sucked into the bright glow, the journey with the Bifröst even more unpleasant than usual because it had come so unexpectedly.
As soon as the Bifröst sent them all tumbling out into the dome, Thor demanded: "Why did you bring us back?!"
Loki resisted the urge to clamp the elder prince's mouth shut and drag him towards the palace. In his stead, Odin snapped: "Do you realize what you've done, what you've started?"
"I was protecting my home!" Thor shot back and Loki stepped away from him so he wouldn't stand between the two gods when their argument got into full swing.
"You cannot even protect your friends," the All-Father responded venomously, practically ripped Heimdall's sword out of its socket and threw it at the gatekeeper, who lunged forward to catch it, "how can you hope to protect a kingdom?" Turning towards Hogun and Volstagg, who were staring up at him, frozen in place, he pointed a hand at Fandral between them and yelled: "Get him to the healing room, now!"
Loki watched worriedly as the two hurried towards the bridge. The blond swordsman was hanging between them limply, more being dragged than actively walking, and Loki had to tear his gaze away to stop himself from following them. Instead, he turned his attention back to Thor, who had been talking all the while: "There won't be a kingdom to protect if you're afraid to act! The Jotuns must learn to fear me, just as they once feared you." Loki had to give himself credit for keeping his sigh as inaudible as it was.
"That's pride and vanity talking, not leadership," Odin replied. "You've forgotten everything I taught you about a warrior's patience." He never learned about it in the first place, old man.
"While you wait and are patient, the Nine Realms laugh at us," Thor said lowly, obviously straining to keep his voice down. Still, it rose over the comfortable level of speaking at the end of his sentence. "The old ways are done. You'd stand giving speeches while Asgard falls!"
Suddenly, Odin erupted in a shout: "You are a vain, cruel, greedy boy!"
"And you are an old man and a fool!" Thor yelled back with clenched fists.
Loki suppressed his flinch, carefully looking from one of them to the other. They seemed to have forgotten about him and he watched as the All-Father bowed his head to look at the ground.
"Yes." The word was almost inaudible. "I was a fool for thinking you were ready."
The mage felt his eyes widen as he saw Odin's hand tightening around Gungnir. Taking a step forward, he began: "Father –", but an inarticulate shout from Odin in his direction cut him off and he froze in his tracks.
Turning back towards Thor, their father continued, his voice rising with every word: "Thor Odinson. You have betrayed the express command of your king. Through your arrogance and stupidity," oh, now you see it too, don't you, Loki thought bitterly,"you've opened these peaceful realms and lives to the horror and desolation of war!" He raised Gungnir to place it where Heimdall's sword had been before, lightning crackling around the spear, then he descended the steps towards Thor and reached for the thunderer's chest. "You are unworthy of these realms!" The golden plate over the blond god's chest went clattering to the floor. "You're unworthy of your title!" The crimson cape followed and Loki swallowed as he caught sight of his brother's wide, blue eyes, staring up at Odin in incredulity as the king yelled: "You're unworthy," he stilled momentarily and continued in a far quieter, much more dangerous tone, "of the loved ones you have betrayed."
Taking an unsteady breath, Loki forced himself to stay still. He had wanted to stop Thor's coronation, yes, but this wasn't what he had planned. He had never wanted it to go as far as this – it had gone too far in the moment when his brother had set out to Jotunheim, when Anthony had fallen into Freyja's hands, when Fandral had been injured on this ridiculous suicide mission of Thor's. This had begun to escalate when he had told Thor that he was fully supportive of everything he did.
Odin's voice rang through the dome, rising over the whir of the Bifröst beginning to charge. "I now take from you your power!" Mjölnir came free from the prince's belt and flew into Odin's hand. "In the name of my father and his father before, I, Odin All-Father," Thor looked up in horror as understanding dawned in his eyes, "cast you out!"
With a blinding flash of gold, Thor vanished into the swirling colours of the opening portal. Only stern self-control kept Loki from leaping after him, as he was used to do when his brother was in danger. As he had always done. And now, it all was his fault.
"Whosoever holds this hammer," Odin muttered against Mjölnir, holding her in both hands, "if he be worthy, he shall possess the power of Thor." Then, he threw the weapon after Thor, the portal closing behind it. With a dry swallow, Loki tore his eyes away from it and turned towards Odin, half-expexting the All-Father to call him out on what he had done.
The king held his gaze for a few seconds before he asked, in a low, tired voice: "Don't you have someone to look after?"
It took a moment for the words to sink in, and when they did, Loki nodded hastily. "Yes. Yes of course, I do."
Odin heaved a sigh and pulled Gungnir from the socket. In a murmur that sounded almost defeated, he stated: "At least one of my sons takes care of his loved ones."
How ironic that the first kind words I receive from you in ages, the prince thought with a bitter smile, come after Thor is gone. Out loud, he said: "I should go look after them, then." After a nod from the All-Father, Loki cast a simple teleportation spell, not caring for etiquette or a proper warrior's behaviour in front of the elder god, and let darkness consume him.
He found himself in front of the weapons vault, purely out of habit appearing behind one of the columns lining the hallway so it would not be too obvious that he had been using his magic to travel. After checking that there was no-one around but the guards in front of the vault, he stepped out of the shadows into the corridor to approach the huge double doors. If the two Einherjar guarding the entrance were surprised at his appearance, they didn't let it show as they stepped aside to let him in.
Loki took a moment while the heavy, metallic thud of the closing doors behind him echoed through the room, his eyes drawn towards the small, oh-so-inconspicuous casket at the far end of the chamber. Its energy emitted a strange pull, luring him closer and at the same time making him want to turn around and run until he didn't feel its presence anymore. He took a deep breath and forced himself to unclench his fists before he slowly stepped towards the ancient relic, his footsteps echoing in the cold, empty room. Although every of the artefacts gave off its very own energy signature, none of them were as frighteningly tempting as the Casket of Ancient Winters. He had always blamed that on its power, but now, he had a different suspicion, one that made his hands shake when he finally stood in front of the socket and reached out for the casket.
As soon as his hands closed around its handles, he felt the same cold tingle of ice, but this time, it wasn't limited to just one arm, but seemed to spread until it froze his very spine. Only that the sensation wasn't entirely unpleasant – not at all, actually. Perhaps that was what horrified Loki the most. This wasn't bad. It felt like it was freeing all his senses, like a blindfold was being pulled off that he had never realised he was wearing.
Especially his seidr flared up in a way that he had never felt before, with a sense of freedom that was utterly overwhelming. A restriction was gone, the same one that had stopped the blue from covering his skin, kept the pale lines on it from rising, obscured the red of his eyes. As soon as the Aesir white faded, his magic was more alive than it had ever been before.
It terrified him.
Still, he lifted the casket even higher, ready to let it have its full effect on his body and magic, when Odin's sharp voice rang out through the room: "Stop!"
Loki froze in his movement, hands clenching even tighter as he asked, hating the waver in his voice: "Am I cursed?" Please please let that be it, I can deal with a curse, I can lift a curse...
"No." No. No.
"What am I?" he demanded, his voice low, but anger starting to bubble up in his chest. If what he suspected was the truth – if it was anywhere close to the truth – then he would have an answer. An answer to every question he had ever posed himself regarding Thor, Odin, the court. All of it.
Please don't be the truth.
"You're my son."
Carefully, Loki set the casket down on its socket, listening to the sound of it echoing from the walls and then turned around as he asked: "What more than that?"His voice sounded angry, seething, rather than terrified like he felt. Now that he had started, he couldn't stop himself, no matter how much he wanted to deny everything that had happened in the last few hours. Taking slow steps towards Odin, he continued: "The Casket wasn't the only thing you took from Jotunheim that day, was it?"
His father (father?) was silent for agonizingly long seconds. Only when Loki came to a halt at the bottom of the staircase the All-Father was standing on, he replied with a quiet, hesitant "No". Loki swallowed, waiting for him to continue. "In the aftermath of the battle, I went into the temple and I found a baby. Small for a giant's offspring; abandoned, suffering, left to die... Laufey's son."
Incredulously, Loki averted his eyes, staring towards a wall without really seeing the engravings on it. "Laufey's son," he repeated flatly. He wanted to feel shocked. Scared. He wanted to feel hatred. Instead, now that he had actually heard the words from Odin, he felt empty. The only emotion clawing at him was a faint sense of disbelieving desperation.
"Yes," Odin confirmed unnecessarily.
The mage finally looked up at him again, feeling the despair grow into something larger, deeper, more painful. But still, the foremost emotion was incredulity, because he would have expected anything, really, but this? This was a scale of things that he would never even have thought in. This was too much to process and file away for later. He had registered the truth of Odin's words, somewhere, he had, he had even had proof, after all, but nevertheless he was waiting for the moment when all of this was going to turn out in another way, as some sort of cruel joke or something.
"Why?" he heard himself ask, his voice disgustingly unsteady. "You were knee-deep in Jotun blood, why would you take me?" Jotnar. The ones he had been fighting not even an hour ago. Did he have to consider them his people now?
No. No way. He was nothing like these beasts. Nothing.
"You were an innocent child," came Odin's hollow reply.
"No," Loki responded, hands balling into fists. Finally, his other emotions returned to him; first and foremost, a cold sense of anger combined with a morbid urge to know. "You took me for a purpose. What was it?" His breathing was laboured and he blinked rapidly to force back tears – stupid, uncalled for, he was angry and nothing else – while he waited for a reply that didn't come. Heaving a deep breath, he took a step forward and screamed: "Tell me!"
"I thought," the All-Father finally responded, "we could unite our kingdoms one day." What? "Bring about an alliance, bring about permanent peace." Oh, he was beginning to understand. "Through you."
Loki's what? was nothing more than a quiet breath; Odin had probably not even heard it.
"But those plans no longer matter."
Yes. Yes of course they do. Now more so than ever before Thor's moronic tantrum. The prince felt tears on his cheeks and couldn't bring himself to care as he, with his voice on the edge of breaking, stated: "So I am no more than another stolen relic, locked up here until you might have use of me."
"Why do you twist my words?" Odin interrupted exasperatedly.
"You could have told me what I was from the beginning, why didn't you?" For some reason, he still hoped he would get a reasonable explanation now. Something that would make everything alright again. Of course, it didn't come.
"You're my son," his father (not-father) said instead, quietly, solemnly. "I wanted only to protect you from the truth."
Loki swallowed around his tears and demanded: "What, because I- I am the monster that parents tell their children about at night?" Finally, he felt his rage bubbling up, pushing aside the morbid thirst to know and everything else as he snarled bitterly over Odin's quiet no, no: "You know, it all makes sense now. Why you favoured Thor, all these years!" With heavy, loud steps he climbed the staircase towards Odin, who had sunken onto one of the steps and was reaching out towards him. "Because no matter how much you claim to love me, you couldn't have a Frost Giant sitting on the throne of Asgard!"
Only when the All-Father's hand limply fell down onto the ground beside him did Loki realize what had happened and fell to his knees next to the unmoving body. Out of habit, he stretched his hands over Odin's chest, but then realized that this was something he could not heal, especially not with his magic in such a weakened state. He clenched trembling fingers around the old man's hand, then pulled them back to himself and yelled: "Guards! Guards, please, help!"
Not even a full second later, the gates opened and two gold-clad warriors hurried into the room. Loki stared at them, immediately wondering whether they had heard the conversation from before. Arguments between the king and his sons weren't unusual, but if they knew...
However, there was no sign of them having any idea of what had just transpired in the room. They barely took notice of Loki while they knelt down at the king's sides and lifted him up between them as gently as possible. Loki watched them leave, watched the vault's heavy gates swing shut behind them, and then sank down onto the steps.
With a heavy, shaky sigh, he rested his elbows on his knees and dug the heels of his hands into his eyes. The silence in the room was deafening; some part of him wanted to return to the Casket of Ancient Winters to feel that incredible feeling again, the freedom, the power, but at the same time, the thought of it repulsed him so much that he forced himself to get up and leave the vault. He couldn't directly teleport from there, since protective spells against exactly that were always in place, so he did it as soon as the doors closed behind him.
This time, he made his way to the outside of the medical wing. Before he entered, he leaned against the wall there and breathed in and out deeply several times, wiping the back of his hand over his face to erase every possible trace of his tears.
A minute later, he opened the door quietly. Anthony was the first one to catch his eye, laying on his back and breathing slowly; he was pale, but not as frighteningly white as before, and most of the bloodstains had been cleaned away from his face. There were still some blood-encrusted strands of hair and his chest and stomach beneath the blanket must still be a mess, but he looked better and that was the main focus of Loki's attention right now.
While stepping up to the mortal's – no, not mortal, not anymore, he reminded himself – bed, he greeted Fandral with a small nod. The swordsman was propped up against his bed's headboard and the colour had returned to his cheeks.
"What happened?" he asked in a hushed voice. "I assume I must have missed something, judging by..." He made a vague gesture towards Loki and the mage briefly wondered if the tear stains were still visible. "...your appearance." Curse Fandral for actually looking at him.
The prince swallowed and stared down at Anthony for another moment before he began to give Fandral a summary of what had happened. Quietly, he explained: "You missed quite a lot, I believe. After they brought you to the healing chambers, Thor started to ramble about having to wage war against Jotunheim to teach the Frost Giants to fear him. Naturally, fa- Odin didn't agree, and because both of them are more stubborn than a damn hoard of bilgesnipes, they couldn't just talk it out, but had an argument. Father..." He hesitated and swallowed again, not even noticing his slip-up. "...exiled him for his recklessness and insolence. To..."
"Wait," Anthony's voice cut through the palpable tension in the air, right over Fandral's gasp, and Loki startled, turning towards the inventor. "Who exiled whom and whereto?" he demanded, his voice still slightly slurred from sleep.
The mage didn't bother to hide his relieved smile. "You are awake."
"No shit, Sherlock," came the dry reply. "Could you, by any chance, tell me why I am tied to the fucking bed?" Glaring up at Loki, Anthony tugged at the bonds beneath the blanket.
Loki hadn't even known they were there (although he should probably have noticed the unnaturally stiff and straight posture), but right now would probably be a bad moment to admit that he was not in full charge of what happened to Anthony in the medical wings. After all, his trust into Loki was a fragile thing already, and if he told him that he let other people tie him up...
"You were thrashing around," he replied in a way of explanation while he knelt down next to the mattress and worked the leather straps open. "We needed you to stay still so you wouldn't restart the bleeding over and over again." That was probably close enough to the truth right now.
For Anthony, he began telling the events of the previous hours again, beginning right after he had brought the mortal to the medical wing. Retelling everything woke the feeling of unease that had just begun to settle, and he kept expecting one of the two men in the room to call him out on his heritage, to demand knowledge about which part of the story he had left out. In his nervous state, he didn't trust himself to weave a perfect lie, so he left the conversation in the vault out completely, didn't mention the All-Father falling into the Odinsleep. Fandral would find out sooner or later and Anthony couldn't care less about Asgardian politics anyway.
He tried to convince himself that he kept the location of Thor's banishment to himself because he wasn't entirely sure, not because he was afraid of how Anthony would react when he learned that the god was residing on Midgard now.
"...so we returned here together with Odin. All of that was, of course, after we finished treating you," he finished. He couldn't have Anthony think that he first went to Jotunheim and then came to get him from Freyja's claws.
"We? Who's we?" the inventor asked curiously. Loki noticed that he hadn't moved since he had untied Anthony's first wrist, just kept fiddling with the leather straps between his fingers for the past few minutes. Hastily, he got up to walk around the bed to untie the second one as well.
"Me and Eir," he replied. "She is the most capable healer in all of Asgard." Nothing but the best for you.
"I see," Anthony murmured slowly. He sounded thoughtful, and when Loki glanced up, he saw the mortal's (not-mortal's) brown eyes staring at something that only he could see. "So you two... saved me."
"Well, it was not entirely our skill that saved you," Loki allowed and stood after he had freed the other's second wrist. With his and Eir's magic alone, they might as well have lost Anthony.
"No?" The inventor pulled the blanket back up and met Loki's eyes. The mixture of trust and nervousness in his gaze made the mage want to lean down and kiss him again, taste again what he had gotten earlier that day (had it really only been hours ago?) in the laboratory. "You had help, then?"
"That is one way of saying it," Loki nodded and reached out, not giving in to his sudden urge to be close to the smaller man (no weakness, not now, not in front of Fandral), but allowed himself to brush a few strands of brown hair away from Anthony's forehead. With a smile, he watched the smaller one's eyes fall shut. "We used one of Idunn's apples, for even Eir's magic could not heal your wounds completely, what with your fragile mortal body..."
The mortal made a non-committal ah-noise and stayed still for a few seconds before he suddenly tensed and opened his eyes again with a startled "wait". Abruptly, he sat up, causing Loki's hand to fall away from his unruly hair. "You used one of the apples? The- the golden apple things you told me about?" He looked startled, scared as he realized what he had just been told.
"Yes," Loki nodded slowly. The mortal's shocked reaction was confusing and made him wonder if there was something he had missed during his absence.
"The things that make you immortal. Those apples." Anthony's voice was faint, as if he was having trouble getting the words to leave his lips.
Trying to sound calm and not as confused as he felt, Loki responded: "Those apples. Anthony, are you..."
"Alright?", Anthony interrupted hysterically. What in Hel's name is going on? "Alright? Do I look fucking alright to you?" Loki was about to respond, but the smaller man shook his head vehemently. "No, don't answer that, just don't. You used Idunn's apples on me?!"
"I just said that, didn't I?" the mage demanded and was torn between rolling his eyes and seriously worrying about Anthony's condition. He had been hit on the head, after all. He reached out to get Anthony to lay down again, but the inventor recoiled from his touch defensively. That hadn't happened in weeks.
"You didn't," Anthony murmured, and then, louder: "You didn't. You- you didn't feed me one of these damn things, you didn't just... just make me immortal, like that's your call to make, you can't just decide that sort of thing!"
Oh. So that was what this was about. Loki resisted the urge to laugh and just raised his eyebrows as he responded: "Are you really reproaching me for saving your life? What should I have done?" It came out sharper than he intended and he clenched his fists at his sides to keep himself from pushing Anthony back onto the mattress and telling him to sleep until his head was clear again.
"I don't know, maybe fucking ask me or something!" came the yelled reply, and now it was just plainly ridiculous.
"You were hardly in a position to answer questions," Loki snapped.
"Well, you could have waited 'till I was!"
Come on, Anthony, you are smarter than that, aren't you? "I could not, you fool, you were bleeding out!" His voice was rising in volume now, too, in response to Anthony's loud, angry accusations.
"So that gave you the right to decide that I'm not gonna live seventy or eighty, but thousands of years? And that wasn't worth asking?" The mortal's, no, immortal's fingers were clenched around the blanket and he was paler than before, his hands shaking, his shoulders tensed.
Loki wanted to grab and shake him, don't you see I did this for you?, but instead, he yelled back: "What is your suggestion, then? Would you rather have died than been saved?"
And, without even a second of hesitation, Anthony shouted: "Yes!"
The single word felt like a blow to the chest and Loki found himself staggering backwards, staring at the inventor with wide eyes. Well, it makes sense, doesn't it, some part of his mind muttered. Who would want to be with a monster?
But he doesn't know it, Loki reasoned. He- he has no idea, how would he know? Nobody knows, it's not possible.
Then why?
"Look, Loki," Anthony said, his voice cutting through the racing of the prince's thoughts. All the anger had vanished from his voice, left it quiet and hollow. "You don't understand..."
"No, I think I understand perfectly well," Loki interrupted him, fighting to keep his voice calm and levelled, to keep the tremor out of it. "I shall leave you alone, then."
He blocked out Anthony's protests as he left the room with hurried steps. Everything in him screamed for an outlet for everything pooling in his mind right now, but he forced himself to control it; instead of slamming the door shut like he wanted to, he turned around and softly closed it behind himself.
Then, he leaned his forehead against the cold metal and exhaled shakily, biting his lip so the pain of the skin breaking would distract him from that inside. He heard a muffled conversation of Fandral and Anthony, but couldn't make out the words. Maybe it was better that way.
Gathering his concentration, he slipped through one of the many cracks in Asgard's reality, weakened by the continuous use of magic in her halls, and entered his rooms – definitely not looking into the direction of Anthony's door down the hall. He made a beeline for the window, hastily pushing back the latches so he could push it open and gasp for the fresher air outside.
Loki closed his eyes, resolutely pushing back the tears that were threatening to spill. He was no child, he wasn't going to cry. Not now. He simply didn't have the time for it. For a minute or two, he just stood there, at some point supporting himself on the windowsill so he could hide his face in his hands while he took deep, calming breaths.
Eventually, he forced himself to stand straight and systematically stripped off his battle armour until he was in formal, but no longer combat-fit clothing. He briefly considered teleporting again, but he already felt weary and didn't want to push himself further if he didn't have to. Besides, some more minutes to clear his head would do him good.
I'm not going to get any rest today, am I, he thought with a crooked smile while he left his chamber and headed towards Odin's wing of the palace. On the way, he tried to keep himself from thinking about it, but Anthony's accusations kept echoing through his head. He balled his fists hard enough for his nails to dig into the tender skin of his palm. I did nothing wrong, I saved his life, for Norn's sake. He is delirious, he doesn't know what he is saying.
Far too soon, the doors (or, more fittingly, the gates) to Odin's and Frigga's wing came in sight. Loki would have liked to stop again to gather himself, but he didn't want to show his weak state to the guards in front of the entrance, so he kept walking and greeted them with a curt nod before he pushed one side of the large double doors open and entered the hallway inside.
He hadn't been to Odin's chambers in years. When they had been younger, he and Thor had frequented these halls, but that had stopped as they grew up – at least for Loki. The only one he visited here was Frigga. The last Odinsleep had been decades ago and it was the last time that Loki had seen more of Odin's rooms than the door when he walked by.
Now, he slipped through that door as well into the large room. In its middle stood an incredibly large bed, broad enough for five men of Odin's build; it made the old man in its middle look even smaller and weaker.
Frigga sat at one side of the bed, looking up as her son entered. Loki forced a weak smile and slowly crossed the room to sit down at the other side of the bed, staring down at his father in silence. Father. Not-father. He honestly didn't know. If Odin was not his father, what did that make of Frigga? What was he supposed to do with this knowledge now? He didn't want it, he would rather go back to wondering why Odin preferred Thor to him than live with this knowledge. He felt lost, completely and utterly lost, because his life suddenly had raw edges that he had never seen before.
"I asked him to be honest with you from the beginning," Frigga suddenly spoke up. Her voice was hushed, as if anything could wake Odin now, but when he glanced up in surprise, Loki found nothing in her eyes that hadn't been there before. Only the same motherly care that she had alwas shown for him. "There should be no secrets in a family."
So you knew, he wanted to say. Wanted to accuse her, she could have told him, after all. A part of him wanted to know how Frigga knew that Loki had found out, but he knew about her visions. It made him wonder whether she knew about other things as well.
He looked down at Odin and then back at her. "So why did he lie?" The hollow, blank tone of his voice was startling to him, but if he didn't keep himself in check, he would probably break down entirely and that just could not happen.
"He kept the truth from you so that you would never feel different," Frigga replied quietly. The mage wanted to laugh. Then maybe he shouldn't have treated me differently from his son. "You are our son, Loki, and we your family," she whispered. "You must know that." He couldn't stand the sincerity in her eyes any longer and stared down at Odin. Apparently, Frigga misinterpreted his glance because she quietly said: "You can speak to him. He can see and hear us even now."
"How long will it last?" he asked.
"I don't know," the queen replied, her voice dropping even further in volume. "This time, it's different. We were unprepared."
"I will never get used to seeing him like this," Loki found himself admitting. "The most powerful being in the Nine Realms lying helpless until his body is restored."
Frigga reached out to clasp one of Odin's hand in hers. "He has put it off for so long now that I fear..." She swallowed and blinked rapidly, staring down at her husband's fingers as she left the sentence unfinished. "You're a good son... We mustn't lose hope that your father will return to us. And your brother."
Loki leaned forward as he inquired: "What hope is there for Thor?" He could have slapped himself right after; ever the little brother, hoping for his elder sibling to come and fix things. He should know better, now that he had spent centuries saving Thor and cleaning up after him.
"There's always a purpose to everything your father does," Frigga replied. "Thor may yet find a way home."
The prince swallowed, unconsciously smoothing out the fabric of the tunic over his knees, then he rose to his feet without giving another response. He had no idea where he wanted to go, but he couldn't stay still for long. Silently, he walked towards the door again, listening to his own boots clicking on the marble, when the doors suddenly swung open and he flinched.
Outside stood a squad of guards and he felt a brief second of panic, they know, she told them, before they knelt down simultaneously with a sharp salute and another gold-clad warrior stepped into the room. In his hands, he held Gungnir, but not as a weapon, but as an offering. The man approached Loki with measured steps before he sunk down to his knees in front of the prince and held the spear high.
Loki stared at him incredulously, then turned around to look at Frigga, wordlessly asking her about what was happening.
"Thor is banished," she stated, now in her queen voice, not that of a mother. "The line of succession falls to you. Until Odin awakens, Asgard is yours."
Slowly, the prince turned back and stared down at Gungnir. He took several deep breaths to calm the conflicting emotions in his chest – incredulity, first and foremost, he got a lot of that today; trepidation; but also a twisted sort of joy. This was not what he had been aiming for when he had thwarted Thor's coronation, so far more than he had even dared to dream of.
Another, sarcastic part of his mind muttered and there goes the hope of getting any sleep today.
Ignoring it, Loki stepped forward and reverently took Gungnir from the man's grasp. The soldier retreated immediately and the prince – king, now – turned around to face his mother hesitantly.
She smiled, more as a mother than as a queen, and whispered: "Make your father proud."
And in that moment, Loki realised that it was not too late for that. The coronation might have worked out far differently from what he had planned, and he could never have expected what he had learned today, but that didn't mean it was all over. He still had a chance, this was his opportunity to prove his worth to Odin. Frigga had called them a family, and Loki felt a sudden determination to show his father that he was worth just as much as his elder brother. No matter where he came from or why he had been brought here originally, he could prove himself, he would show Odin that he could be just as good of a son as Thor.
But first, he would have to get changed.