5. Memory and Time

The purity Frigga seemed to hold so highly flitted farther from Loki's grasp, tenuous as it was. After Sif's hair was restored and the golden thread snipped from his lips, he tried to win back his past by fleeing to the forests in search of the trees and rocks he used to consort with. However the nymphs and dryads were gone; no longer could he see the spirits within stone and wood to release them for moments of passion. Loki tried to tamp his frustration and calm his inner churning enough to find a wild partner or at least a tiny part of his lost innocence.

But he could not.

And thus he returned to the palace, filled with something pulsing and hot in his chest and no way to purge himself of it. When he walked into the marble halls, Loki thought he would suffocate from the closed-in feeling, as though he were an animal forced to live in a cage. It grew during the daylight hours; by the time he had to attend Frigga and Odin at dinner Loki could barely swallow his spit, let alone food. Gloomily he pushed larks' tongues around his plate, counting to himself to make it through the interminable hours before he could go to his chambers and try, once more, to chase elusive sleep.

Just as he thought he would go mad and flip the entire table along with the food on it to the ground, Loki felt a hand slide up his thigh. Carefully he kept his face impartial, but under the cloth he captured Freya's hand in his fingers.

That night the goddess writhed underneath Loki, her long hair wound around his neck. Inflamed by her beauty, Loki licked between her breasts down to the delicious cleft hidden in her folds. And when she was wet and slick, he eased his length inside to ride her to an ecstatic finish with her shouting for joy in his arms. The release cleared the noise in his head, and for the first time he was able to lie back on the pillow and breathe. It lasted for a short time, but when he reached for Freya for another round of loveplay she avoided his touch. "That is enough," the goddess declared as she rose from the bed and thrust her arms into her sleeves. "I wanted to see if you were as mischievous in the sheets as you are in the palace. You have answered my question, and now we are done."

Loki reclined on one arm and watched as she left his rooms without another look, and his eyes narrowed with the sudden realization – a release of his lust made the bad feelings go away, if only for a few moments. Once he found another partner he could seek relaxation: that place where his mind stopped planning and whirling and spiraling out of control.

Hodor was next; Loki spent two weeks sweet-talking the boy until he came to his bed, bent double to receive penetration. It was over too fast and Loki was left with the lad following him everywhere he went, stars in his eyes. When he had to shout at Hodor to leave him alone and find someone else to adore, the voices returned worse than ever.

It led to an endless parade of lovers, sometimes in groups. And after several Odinsleeps Loki found lovemaking no longer quieted the swirl in his mind. The quiet place was gone. Clutching his head with both hands, Loki walked to Thor's room in a desperate search for refuge. The huge door was locked against his touch, and he stood outside for a long time listening to the whispers and stifled cries of love within. Finally, he traced his footsteps back to his own room: alone, as he now always was.

Loki's magic was changing. He sensed an inexorable movement through the threads and strands of enchantment in his body; power coursed through his fingers, even his hair. Frigga herself exclaimed at a blast he sent at the library wall; two hours were necessary to repair the took it in with her usual savoir-faire, but Loki caught a puzzled line between her brows when she thought he wasn't looking. Even Frigga, it seemed, didn't know what was happening to him.

Because the new phase was dark – he could feel it. No longer could he create the castles and forests spun with light he and his mother used to amuse themselves with by the fire; no, his spells were forces of destruction, even when he didn't want them to be.

Is it so bad? he thought one night in his bed, staring up into the shadows. Dark magic is old magic – what is wrong with that? Perhaps there is a way to use it to my advantage.

Beside him two of his current bedmates snored, worn out from their recent exertions; Loki flicked one finger and they were spirited away to the halls of the castle. There the servants would find them naked in the morning. He grinned as he pictured the resulting confusion and embarrassment.

Sleep evaded him, and he tossed restlessly in the ornate bed. Finally, with a grunt of rage, Loki rose and dressed quickly, intending to ride to the forest and look for something pure. He would turn things around, he determined, and discover the light within once more – the darkness bolting through his frame was too seductive and could lead to eventual evil and downfall. He knew it as clearly as he knew his own name.

As he closed his door a pair of voices made him look up. Theoric, a young knight, approached with a girl on his arm; they stared into each other's eyes with the blind devotion of new lovers. Loki recognized her as the beauty named Sigyn, an Aesir newly-arrived at court.

The pair passed Loki; Theoric gave him a wary nod and Sigyn blushed. The color against her golden hair made her look like a rose blown by gentle rains. Loki stared, struck by the girl's innocence and patent fidelity to Theoric – that ridiculous clod! Forgetting his vow to rediscover his own purity and light, Loki knew he had to have her. If he couldn't become light himself, perhaps it could shine through him if he swallowed such a glowing, glorious creature. Yes, Sigyn's purity, once he absorbed it, would beam through his eyes and fingernails.

The idea was pure madness, but Loki's self-control was gone. The thought of sinking himself into such a soft beauty was too delicious.

After a month of tender innuendoes and ignored flirtations, he realized the only way to win Sigyn to his bed was with his new dark magic. A series of tricks put Theoric in a dungeon cell, and Loki was free to have the maiden. He stood in his room, disguised as the knight. Perhaps it would have been as well to glimpse in the mirror and check all was well, but for some reason he didn't wish to see his assumed reflection. Instead he stole to the beauty's room, knocked softly, and was admitted.

The tumble was just as he expected – sharply ecstatic. When she lay weeping in his arms, her bright face clouded with what she had done, the entire affair seemed to shrink along with his prick; Loki almost wished he had never started the prank.

And when some bumbling fool of a servant brought a message from Theoric's cell, and when Sigyn turned to Loki with confusion and fear in her eyes, and when he revealed himself to her, and when she crumpled to the floor with agonized sobs racking her body, he would have given anything to be able to turn back the hands of time.

But all his research into time magic had yielded nothing, and redemption was beyond even his powers.

The story sped around the castle, as scandals have the habit of doing. Loki was dragged to the throne room and Odin's displeasure; his father ranted for nearly an hour about honor and discipline. Loki stood throughout preserving a mien of cold boredom; it was only when Frigga entered, her voice hoarse with weeping, that the prince nearly broke down.

"Even your mother cannot stand your tricks and stratagems!" Odin flung a hand in the direction of his wife's tear-stained face.

"Enough!" Loki shouted. "You have said your piece – I will leave you both to your self-righteous anger!"

He turned and strode from the palace. A hot little coal burned in his chest and squeezed his heart; Loki felt the sting of salt on his cheeks.

On the Bifrost he stood and knew himself for truly lost. The palace was no longer a refuge; no, it stood as an accusing finger, pointing to the realms of space and beyond. Go, the golden spires seemed to demand, and do not return until you can heal this harm.

"Brother!" The shout came from far-off. Loki shielded his eyes and saw Thor riding towards him, standing in the stirrups.

When he drew up, Loki sneered. "Why do you seek me out? Have you not heard…"

"It is Sif," Thor interrupted. "She is missing. I discovered her gone from her rooms and found nothing but this."

A scrap of parchment was thrust into Loki's hands. Written on it was one word: Latveria.

Loki clutched it, another tear dimming his vision. "This is the place I mentioned in my youth. Do you remember? Heimdall told us it did not yet exist."

"Let us pray it exists now. Will you come with me on this quest?"

The accusations, the tears, the darkness – Loki could leave it all and ride with Thor towards adventure and Natasha. He had almost forgotten her, that youthful love of his. "I suppose," he grumbled, inwardly exulting.

They arrived in darkness, in stone. Small scratching sounds surrounded them, but when Loki struck a light and held it overhead, he and Thor stood in a deserted room.

Deserted? Not quite. A long table at the far end lay heaped with steaming plates of food – roasts, steaks, capons, and stews. Bowls held peas in butter and mushrooms in golden sauce. Potatoes, fried and peppered, were displayed on long trays. Whole fish gilded with cucumber scales glistened next to just-baked bread.

"What a feast!" Thor grinned and marched forward. "Just what was wanted after a long day of battle and searching for Lady Sif."

"Thinking of your stomach so soon, Thor?" Loki snorted and turned away. "Better we get our bearing first before we fill our bellies."

"'Twill only take a few moments. I brought gold in plenty to pay the thane for our keep." Thor drew up a stool, sat in it, and heaped a trencher with slabs of meat. Seizing a fork, he started to shovel in the food.

"I refuse to wait for a glutton. Time to begin our quest," Loki declared. The sound of loud slurps and chewing was the only response.

Loki turned his back and found a doorway. It led to a narrow path that ended at a dark shaft – obviously it was the only way to go up. He supposed there was a mechanism inside, but he was too impatient to see how it worked. Natasha's face danced in his memory like a bright standard on a pole, waving in the wind.

One turn of his wrist brought him above the cellars where he and Thor had arrived to the next floor. Two sets of doors framed the huge space, and ancient weapons hung on the walls. To Prince Loki's mind, the place seemed entirely ordinary, even mundane – everything in it was tattered and old. The only thing that drew his attention was the tiny robed figure worked in stone in one side of the hall. He strode over to it, knelt, and touched the thing with careful fingers. Yes, there was a spirit inside, but the statue was its prison, not a refuge. It would take careful magic to release the being shivering inside, and that sort of enchantment had deserted him.

He didn't have time to worry over the statue. First he wanted to find Natasha and inform her of his arrival; next he would come up with a plan for discovering Sif's whereabouts; if he and Thor rescued the much-beloved warrior maiden and returned her to Asgard it would do much to restore Loki's lost reputation.

And throughout the quest, of course, he would win Natasha to his bed and pleasure her thoroughly. Just the thought of having her in his arms at last, of removing her clothes slowly, of kissing those lush lips and tasting her tongue, of holding the generous breasts…ah! It nearly made him release in his breeches. Loki grinned at his own arousal; he could hardly wait to have her seated on his throbbing, ticklish prick.

So when he heard her voice followed by a burst of laughter, Loki's smile widened. He strode forward just in time to see a strange cage sink down the shaft he had seen below, pass the floor where he stood, and go to the cellars he had just left. Natasha was inside the iron cube, wearing a threadbare robe tied tightly around her body. One white arm was propped against the metal scrolls on the far wall; a male stood close by, smiling at her.

Loki felt his mouth drop open with shock. In his mind only time and the branches of Yggdrasil kept them apart. He flicked his fingers and returned to the dark floor below where, presumably, Thor still sat at the table stuffing food into his face. When the cage descended and Natasha emerged followed by the male (a thin blond individual whom Loki hated on sight) he planted himself in front of them.

The male looked at Loki up and down. "Another rich boy, ready to experience his first bout of fornication?"

"Hardly," Loki drawled. With the back of his hand he pushed the fellow to one side before he pulled a very surprised Natasha close and bit her neck with his sharp teeth. "At last," he breathed.