It was not until she reached the mountains that Elsa began to think. They had all stared at her in confusion, in fear, in horror—everything her worst imaginings had told her. And she, she had been unable to form a single word, a single thought. She had been frozen. Frozen. Like the fountain. Valhalla, why had that woman brought her baby so close to her? Did she not realize what she could have done? Elsa had not been near a child since… since Anna was little. And she had never forgotten what she had done to her then…

Her thoughts tumbled, one on top of another, no order, no sense. Nothing made sense. An hour ago she had been the queen, and now she was an exile.

Elsa dropped to her knees and cupped a handful of snow to her face to cool her fevered brain. Fevered. First I'm frozen, now I'm feverish. She shook her head. Stop it. She got up and kept going.

Why had Anna snatched off her glove? Why couldn't she just leave things as they were? Why did she always have to be such a spoiled, selfish, immature child? The world wasn't all happy endings. There's no happy ending for me.

He could have spoken for her. He knew. He understood. Why had he just stood there gaping at her like everyone else? Had he been? No, not gaping. He knew. But where had he been? Why hadn't he come to her and defended her from their horrible stares?

Somehow that thought seemed to bring back her reason. She felt suddenly ashamed. What are you thinking? she berated herself. You're being even more selfish than Anna. Why should Prince Loki himself, of all people, risk his secret just because a stranger couldn't control herself and gave away hers? That's absurd.

She tucked the thought away, moving the jötunn prince to the back of her mind. He had no bearing on her situation now. He would go home and work out his own problems, and now she needed to work out hers.

Elsa glanced around her, realizing for the first time where she was. She was on the North Mountain, climbing steadily toward its summit. Snow lay thick and deep all around her, as it always did on the mountain, even in summer's height. She was completely alone, the only marks in the snow her own footprints, quickly swept away by her cloak dragging behind her.

Maybe things aren't so desperate after all, she thought.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Loki sighed but did not turn his eyes away from the window. Though it had been night when they left Arendelle, Asgard's sun was only just beginning to set. He loved to watch it, to see the strength, the vibrancy, the power of its warm hues, the way one color flowed into another without seam or break, the way the clouds reflected the light and sometimes, like this evening, seemed to make a strange and mystical landscape. When he was small, Frigga used to tell him that on nights like this one could catch a glimpse into Valhalla. He knew now that it was only a folktale, but sometimes he would pretend to himself that he still believed it. What would it be like to live in Jötunheimr, never seeing the sun?

The knocks came again, more insistent. Then Thor's voice: "Loki? I know you're in there, brother."

But I'm not your brother. It was far from the first time he'd thought it; the thought had stung him again and again since the day the jötunn—his enemy—had seized his arm and, instead of burning him with cold as it should have, had turned his skin to the same flinty tone as its own. The day he had begun questioning everything he knew. Yet no matter how many times he repeated the thought that his brother was not his brother, his mother not his mother, his father… there was no dulling of the pain.

Predictably, Thor was now yanking at the doorknob, though of course the door was locked. "Loki, you had better answer me at once."

Loki sighed again. "Why don't you break down the door?" he called at last, irritated.

"You know perfectly well I can."

Loki could see him now, hefting that ridiculous hammer, poised to strike down the door, just as he did everything else that got in his way. As he would probably strike down Loki himself if he saw what Queen Elsa had seen a few hours ago. After all, the jötnar were the enemy. It was a truth they had been certain of all their lives. Thor had always said he would wipe out Jötunheimr once he was king; why should he not begin with his own brother?

"Come on, Loki. Father is nearly beside himself over what happened at the coronation; it seems he's taken a curious liking to that Aren queen. Let us go and find a place to spar outside the city till it all blows over."

Loki winced. For the last few hours, he had been trying to repress the memory of the coronation. There had been such relief in finding someone with whom he could share his secret, even for just a moment, but now Elsa's secret was out for the world to see. And he hadn't said a word. He had been so ready to step forward when he had realized that Prince Hans intended to kill her, but when her secret had come out, he had abandoned her. Selfish, that was what he had been.

But what could he have done? To risk being associated with her ice powers, to risk giving up his secret too? A stranger, a mortal, could hardly expect such a thing of him, could she?

"I think I'll just wait it out here, thank you," he answered, tearing himself away from the guilty thoughts. "I believe I'm quite safe enough."

"Not if I knock the door down."

Exasperated, Loki turned away from the window at last and moved swiftly and silently to the door. He unlocked it without making a sound.

"Have it your way, then," came Thor's voice, half annoyed and half eager, from the other side of the door.

"Try the knob again, dumming."

There was a pause, and then the door opened. Thor crossed the room and stood at the window, looking out as the last rays of color faded away into deep purple. There was an awkward silence. Then Thor began: "Loki, brother, will you not tell me what is troubling you?" He reached out to put a hand on Loki's shoulder, but his hand merely sliced through the illusion that Loki had left there, making it vanish.

Loki gave a low chuckle at Thor's startled face as his brother—no, not his brother—turned to see him leaning against the closed door across the room. It was so much like the way they had once interacted, before he knew what he knew now. Of course, to Thor it was still the same. That was clear enough from the way he smiled.

But in the next moment, the smile had vanished again, replaced by a sympathetic expression that seemed uncertain how to arrange itself over Thor's boyish features. Emotional intelligence had never been Thor's forte. It would be just his luck that his brother—no, not his brother—would be attempting to delve into the realm of feelings now, when he only wanted him to stay out.

"Please, Loki. Talk to me."

"No."

"Brother, why do you shut me out?"

Echoes began playing in Loki's head. Why do you shut me out? Why do you shut the world out? What are you so afraid of? Elsa's sister, just before the queen had lost the control she had maintained so carefully. It was Elsa's sister who had broken her mask. He couldn't allow his brother—no, not his brother—to break his.

"Because it is not something that going out and bashing a few heads together is going to help. Leave me alone, Thor. Go find someone else whose problems you and your hammer can fix."

Thor let out a breath, and Loki realized too late that he had at least admitted that something was wrong. Not that Thor could have been made to think otherwise, at this point, but the fact that he had given some ground might encourage Thor to think he would give more. That would hardly help him convince Thor to go away.

"Very well. But if I cannot fix it, will you not at least share it with me? You need not bear it alone."

"So that's it," Loki snapped. "I'm too weak to bear my own burdens; let the mighty Thor take them on his own shoulders because he's so strong." That was better. Let Thor think he was offended by his concern.

"You know that is not what I meant."

"When will you and Father get it into your thick skulls that I needn't be coddled? That I am strong in my own right?" That I deserve to know the truth about myself from my father's—Odin's—own mouth? his mind added, finding more truth in his vindictive words than he had intended.

Thor was silent for a moment. Loki found the silence unnerving; it suggested that Thor might be thinking, and although Loki was sure he had not left enough dots for Thor to connect, he did not like giving him time to ponder them, anyway. Thor could usually be relied on to miss hints, but he had been known to have rare moments of intuition, and those usually at the most inconvenient of moments.

It seemed that this was to be one of those times, for the next words Thor spoke were far too perceptive for Loki's liking. "Father loves you, Loki. And so do I."

With that, Thor strode toward the door, and Loki stepped aside to let him pass. He stopped when he reached it and tried to pull Loki into a hug, but Loki had predicted this already, and his arms sliced through an illusion as Loki became visible beside the window again. With a last, hurt look, Thor left the room.

Loki felt tears gathering in his eyes. I wonder if a jötunn can freeze his own tears. The thought steadied him, replacing foolish sentiment with the familiar anger and fear. He knew those well enough; he could deal with them. The look of hurt on his brother's face—no, not his brother's—that, he could not deal with.

Revised as of January 2018