As far as Loki was concerned, the less Odin and the occupants of the royal palace knew about his magical abilities, the better.
After all, none of them had ever fully understood just what he was capable of. It was all fine and dandy when he was doing parlor tricks as a boy to please the members of Odin's court, and then it became something of an issue when he tormented the servants with his newer, darker magic. Naturally, his gifts could only be used when they were for entertainment purposes, when they fit into Odin's ideal image for him. However, the second they became too dark, too powerful, too much of a threat, they all had to be snuffed out. That had always been the way: let Loki fiddle about in areas that were pleasing to others, but as soon as they became something more than a game, cut it loose.
So, once Loki was freed from his prison cell and granted permission to roam the grounds, he kept his magic a secret. Odin would be a fool to think his abilities had disappeared completely during his sentence, but perhaps the All-father believed Loki would keep his powers tamed in order to fall back into the old Asgardian's favour. If he thought the latter, the All-father would be partially correct; Loki wasn't foolish enough to make grand gestures of power in front of the people that mattered. He had no problem, however, reminding servants and lesser nobles that he was still a prince and a master of sorcery, and they would do well to remember it.
Today, he would use his magic for first step in his grand plan to finally remove Theoric as an obstacle to his ultimate goal: freedom. He knew that if he removed that troublesome Hawk from the picture, he would be free to take Sigyn in any way he saw fit. However, by taking Sigyn in the way that he intended, Loki knew the All-father would have no choice but to punish him again. The crime certainly wouldn't be worth the same harsh sentence as before, but Loki merely needed some time away from the security that Asgard as a city offered. In order to regain his lost footing, Loki required distance from his childhood home where a hundred different eyes watched him.
He couldn't kill anyone in the palace. He couldn't set something on fire. He couldn't slaughter one of the farm animals. He couldn't threaten a member of the court. None of those crimes would give him the punishment he desired; everything had the potential to be either too harsh or too lenient, and he needed something square in the middle. Removing Theoric would start a chain of events that would ultimately get him what he truly desired, and today was finally the day to do it.
At this point, Sigyn must have been dying. He hadn't seen her since he last promised to solve everything, and it was now two days before her wedding. Frigga was bouncing around the palace, ordering servants this way and that as she prepared for the celebration to come. Odin had married many couples in his tenure as the All-father, and every single ceremony Loki had seen was unnecessarily lavish under Frigga's careful touch. They threw these pointless parties as a way to show the whole realm that the monarchs were connected to their people; Odin would marry just about anyone for a fee, and Frigga put the same amount of effort into every feast whether the newlyweds were rich or poor.
Sigyn had been by the palace the day before with her intended, but Loki managed to only observe from a distance. He had wanted to approach her, to assure her that everything was falling into place, but he knew that would not bode well for her in the end. She appeared almost comatose, her smiles forced as Frigga and her ladies showed the couple all the decorations that were being prepared. As much as it pained him to lurk in the background, Loki knew it would be worth it in the end. If all of his careful calculations fell through, Sigyn would be his wife in a matter of days; he would finally have a constant companion, someone to endure his hardships no matter what, and he would be free from the eyes of the palace.
And all of that would start today with the help of his magic.
He had just finished a seemingly innocent breakfast with Thor, after which the Asgardian disappeared to the arena with the Warriors Three while Loki took a stroll down to the palace vaults. He slipped swiftly through shadows and passageways, cloaking himself with some of the most basic magic to keep the guards blind to his presence, and then snuck inside the vault of his choosing. For all Odin's investments in security personnel, he hadn't changed any of the vault combinations since Loki was a boy. Once inside, he snatched up two rare gems that Odin had found on a campaign dozens of years prior, and then disappeared without disturbing a single other thing inside.
Naturally, he couldn't take his own funds to pay for his deal – he would need every single coin once his ties to the palace were severed again.
From there, he retired to his room, informing his servants that he needed to sleep after a late night of drinking with his brother. The lie was easily swallowed, and there had been no interruptions since he retired. He needed complete concentration for his next bit of magic; the room must be soundless and completely dark, as any movement could skew his trajectory. Gems in hand, Loki closed his eyes and took several very long moments to steady out his breathing. He had not made a successful jump for a number of years now; it was easy to make duplicates of his physical form, but actually transporting his body in its entirety from one spot to another was a completely different story.
Focus. His eyebrows knitted together when he started to feel the old familiar compressing sensation that signaled success. Wincing, it took every ounce of restraint he had to keep his eyes shut as the air was forced from his lungs. The pain was temporary, and when it finally stopped, Loki knew he was no longer in his dark bedroom, but in a troll's cave. It certainly wasn't difficult to tell one was in a troll's cave, even with one's eyes closed; they were damp, cold, and had a perpetual sound of dripping water that could verge on torturous if one was in there for too long.
Loki was seated, just as he had been atop his bed when he left, but now he found himself resting atop a frigid rock. His eyes opened slowly, and he forced a sneer at the being before him. Geirrodur, King of the Rock Trolls who dwelled within the mountains, had not improved in appearance since Loki last saw him. He was remarkably intelligent for such an inferior creature, and over the centuries had amassed a great deal of power amongst his kind.
And he owed Loki a favour.
"A scout spotted your Hawk just below the ridge," the creature informed him as Loki rose. His eyes swept over the gold armor that sat astride the troll's breast, and then flickered to the green cloak that hung from his shoulders; he had done well as ruler.
"A token," Loki insisted, producing a gem in each hand for the troll to view, "for every month of imprisonment."
The beast grinned, revealing a healthy set of yellowing, jagged teeth, and then plucked both beautiful gems from Loki's hands. "These are much appreciated, though unnecessary. I am, after all, in your debt."
"Yes," Loki grinned, "you are."
With that said and acknowledged, Loki turned sharply and stalked down through the glittering cavern, ignoring the way Geirrodur's warriors watched him from the shadows; honestly, they were worse than those in the palace. However, he needn't concern himself with them, as they were not likely to run off and tattle on him to Odin. No, the trolls had always wanted to defeat the All-father in battle, and Loki had been clever enough in his youth to befriend them. They were the most hideous creatures, yes, but they were stout warriors who could hold their own if necessary. It certainly never hurt to have friends in dark places, particularly when the friendship was a secret.
"Do not interrupt until I am finished with him," he ordered as he descended a stairwell that emptied out into a grand hall. "Do not interfere."
No one said a word, but Loki assumed that they had all heard him; the hall certainly echoed enough for that. The hall itself was empty, though he could see the scattered remains of old stone furniture. He suspected the place had been vacated after a battle of some kind, as there was a massive hole blown into the side of the space, allowing sunlight to filter in. It was there he would meet Theoric, if the lug had followed his instructions properly.
He estimated that he had some time to wait before his opponent arrived, and opted to settle down onto one of the few stone fixtures that remained intact; a throne. It would have been at the head of the table had the hall been undamaged by conflict, but Loki decided he preferred it on its own. Eyes shut once more, he brought his hands together to rest on his lap, and then leaned his head back against the stone chair. How trolls found comfort in such audacious material was beyond him, but it would do for now.
It was the footsteps of an Asgardian that brought him out of his daydreams, and he sat up sharply at the arrival of his rival. As expected, the warrior was armed with a number of weapons, all of which hung from his body; Loki assumed Sigyn had a hand in polishing each of them.
"Ah," he sighed as he rose, "the Warrior arrives."
Theoric remained stoic as he observed Loki from the gaping hole in the hall, eyes narrowed.
"Have you brought me here to kill me?"
"Me? Kill you?" Loki asked, hands clasped behind his back as he strolled forward, "No, no, I'll have no part in your death, Hawk. My intentions now are the same as they were in my letter."
"To fight for Sigyn's hand?" Theoric gave a barking laugh, "You cannot have her because she is already mine."
"Not technically true." He produced his best snarl. "The All-father hasn't married you yet… Until that day, she is a free woman."
"She loves me."
"False."
"She doesn't love you," Theoric spat, and Loki stopped his advance when the warrior marched forward. "Even with everything you've offered to give her, she still doesn't love you."
His eyes narrowed. "She doesn't need to… She hates you enough to come to me."
"This is tiresome and petty," the Hawk told him. "Had it not been for your brother, I would have turned you in to the All-father for your meddling."
"Ah, but now you shall never get the chance to do so," Loki mused pleasantly. He noticed a flicker of movement behind Theoric, and he realized that Geirrodur had adjusted positions. That was perfectly acceptable, so long as he did not pounce prematurely.
"Draw your weapon then," Theoric demanded, tossing aside his axe and shield in favour of a broadsword, "and we shall finally settle this."
He reached into the depths of his outer jacket and retrieved his weaponry for the day: a slip of parchment and a quill. Once he was sure Theoric had seen them both very clearly, he set them down on a nearby boulder for later. He then returned his gaze to Theoric and quirked an eyebrow, egging him on as he took a defensive stance. From there, battle commenced. Theoric launched himself at Loki with such ferocity and accuracy that he almost managed to nick him, but Loki was a nimble enough fighter to duck out of the way.
It had been quite some time since he actually fought an Asgardian properly; Thor hardly counted as a proper fight, as he had been fighting Thor since they were boys. Theoric was new, different, and there were some moves that took Loki by surprise. By the time he managed to disarm the warrior, he had a thin, shallow cut on his cheek, spanning almost the entirety of his face. It would heal quickly, but it stung as he weaved and bobbed out of the way of flying Asgardian fists.
An upper-cut to Theoric's jaw finally saw the warrior stumble, and Loki took the opportunity to kick him squarely in the gut. Winded, Theoric collapsed, and it was then that Loki beckoned for the trolls to move in. He stepped back, trying to keep his breathing even as Geirrodur and his companions moved in. The minor trolls took an arm each, while Geirrodur placed a hand on either side of Theoric's thick neck.
"Is this when you kill me?" the Asgardian croaked, "Eliminate your competition?"
"Oh, I don't need to kill you to get what I want," Loki cooed, crouching down so that he could look the fallen warrior in the eye. "I merely need you out of the way."
Theoric struggled, but remained silent as the trolls held him in place. A soft smile touched Loki's lips; it certainly felt wonderful to be in control again.
"Now, my weapon," he started, sauntering back to the discarded parchment and quill. He plucked both up, and then settled down atop the boulder. "I think Sigyn will need an explanation for your absence, don't you?" The man remained silent. "Well, I do."
He shook the quill to activate the ink within it, and then set the parchment on his bent knee.
"Now," Loki mused, head cocked to the side as he studied the blank page before him. "How might I sound dull enough to be convincing as Theoric of the Crimson Hawks? Dearest Sigyn? No, not quite. Sigyn. Yes, a boring enough way to start. I feel as though we should spend the last days before our wedding apart."
"You have no business addressing her-"
"Ah, but it is you addressing her, not me," he insisted, the quill scratching noisily as he scribbled across the page. "I look forward to becoming your husband, but I shan't be home until we are wed. Do not fear for me, but ensure the house is tidy for my return. Does that sound plausible? Geirrodur?"
"Excellently crafted, my lord," the troll remarked as Theoric twitched.
"Just as I thought," Loki said with a grin, and then rose. "Now, I shall need your signature for authenticity."
Theoric tried valiantly to struggle for freedom; it seemed he was a slow learner. Loki first held the quill out for him to take, as his hands were free, but when that fell flat, he forced the device into the brute's stubby fingers.
"Sign it," he ordered, voice low as he held the parchment stiffly in front of the man's face.
"No."
He nodded up to Geirrodur, and Theoric cried out hoarsely as the troll started to compress his neck between two burly hands. The other troll at his side brought his arm behind his back, contorting it painfully. Loki waved the parchment in front of him.
"Sign it. Now." Loki leaned in closer when the man continued to resist. "I won't have them kill you, but there is so much we can do before you meet your end. Sign it."
The trolls resumed their pressure on Theoric's limbs, and Loki ground his teeth together. He had expected the man to give in sooner, but this carried on for quite some time. When Theoric finally scribbled something almost illegible across the bottom of the page, a troll had popped his arm out of its socket, and Geirrodur's nails had left oozing marks along his neck.
"Excellent," Loki chuckled as he observed the signature. "This will do." He then folded up the letter and tucked it safely in his pocket.
"People will come looking for me," Theoric wheezed.
"Oh, yes, they most certainly will," he sighed, his eyes up to Geirrodur now, "but by then I will be gone. Keep him alive and well for two moons."
"And after that?"
He glanced down at the defeated warrior, and then shrugged, "Eat him? Kill him? Turn him free? I don't care."
The Troll King nodded, and with that Loki was gone, off to deliver Sigyn's letter as slyly as magic could allow.
AUTHOR'S NOTES:
I think people sometimes forget Loki is a villain. I'm definitely included in that – I like to see the better side of our favourite baddies. But he's still a villain, and still definitely capable of evil things. In the comics, this is how Theoric meets his end, but I thought I'd leave it a little more ambiguous, and Loki leaves thinking his hands are clean. I like the idea that both men in Sigyn's life are grey figures, so that's where I'm coming from.
There's a wedding looming on the horizon still, and people have requested multiple points of view for that. I'll try my best to incorporate that in for you! I'm back in school now after the Christmas holidays, so updates will continue at their usual semi-slow pace.
Thank you to those that review! Your feedback is always encouraging and lovely to read! LOVE YOU ALL!