Chapter Thirty-Two

The Two Princes

The tiny raven-haired child sunk deeper into the plush mattress. Tiny fingers grasped the emerald comforter, drawing the fluffy barrier up over his mouth. By the end of the tale, it would likely be above his head. Both he and his brother would be naught but shaking lumps beneath the covers. No doubt they would beg cousin Sverrir to stop, but the traveller would never cease his narration until his stories were complete.

"The two princes..." he continued, "did not heed their father's warning. For so long they had heard stories of the terrible giant that lived in the forest, but they had never seen him. Surely if he was that big and that blue he would be obvious?

"After many days and nights, they finally made it to the giant's cave. The air coming from its mouth was so cold; the princes feared they could freeze to death before making it past the threshold. The giant was said to have the power to cause blizzards, turn rivers to ice and freeze a man with his mere touch. But the princes were prepared. They had brought fire with them. Surely that would melt the giant?

"The moment the princes stepped into the darkness, they wished they had not brought the torches. Bones of children lined the walls, their jaws cracked into monstrous screams. The air was dank with the scent of blood, and the foul aroma of the giant himself.

"What the princes did not know was that this was the cave of Laufey, king of all the giants, and by far the strongest. His favourite food was little princes, who he would boil alive to make a thick, tasty soup. When he had eaten, he would choose the finest bones, grinding them up as flour to make his bread."

At this, the tiny ball of green swathed Loki had spoken up. "But you said there were bones at the caves entrance. Why didn't he ground them up?"

Sverrir shot his young cousin a sharp look, eyes rolling in his travel-worn face. "As I said, he only chose the finest bones. He was particularly fond of femurs. Anyway, do you want me to finish this story or not?"

Loki nodded vigorously. Not that he had a choice. Sverrir always found a way to finish his stories.

"The little princes went deeper and deeper into the cave. The deeper they got, the colder it became. Soon the walls were glistening with ice. At this stage, the youngest and smartest of the prince, a strapping lad called Luke, started to question their mission. His older brother was always leading him into situations like this. But Arthur was strong and brave; surely he would protect them from the giant?

"He was just wondering whether to ask his brother if it was such a great idea, when a loud booming voice filled the cave.

"FE FI FO FUM! WHO HATH BROUGHT FIRE INTO MY KINGDOM?"

"A blue light filled the cavern. Arthur and Luke beheld the giant with great terror, sitting upon a throne made of the skulls of those kings he had defeated. He was a creature scaly and blue, with eyes like glimmering rubies and teeth sharp and red as rusted nails.

"Laufey lifted himself from the throne, his bald head brushing against the roof of the cave. His monstrous mouth split into a grin.

"Two little princelings! Fat and plump, my favourite kind."

"While Luke was wary, Arthur did not take kindly to being called 'fat and plump'. He worked every day at the training yards to be the finest prince he could. As for Luke, he was slim as a willow wand. It was this tiny discretion on the giant's part that gave the small, smart prince an idea.

"As was expected, Arthur leapt forward, sword and fire before him. The cavern filled with the giant's hideous guffaws.

"You think you can defeat me, little prince. I will be nibbling on your insides before the hour is through!"

"It was in this moment that young prince Luke grabbed the torch from his brother's hands and threw it into Laufey's boiling cauldron. Arthur opened his mouth to argue, but the youngest prince clapped his hand over his mouth, whispering in his brother's ear. "The giant is blind, brother, but not deaf."

"Arthur shot him a confused look, but did not question. Luke was perceptive, and rarely had his observations been wrong. The princes tip-toed around the hideous blue giant, making sure not to stand on the ancient bones or slip on the greasy rocks. It was only once Luke was perched on Laufey's throne that he spoke, quietly, once more.

"Brother, go and make noise. You are good at that."

"Whispers? Whispers?" The giant boomed. "Are you princes or little mice?"

"Arthur began to scream and yell, banging his sword on the cauldron, the walls, the huge throne. The giant bellowed, running toward the sound, when Luke jumped into his back. From beneath his cloak, the youngest prince revealed a glistening gold sword, that of his father, which he plunged deep into Laufey's exposed neck.

"The giant moaned and groaned,

"Screamed and shrieked,

"Cursed and swore –

"Until finally he fell in a heap on the floor.

"Though Luke was the victor, his brother was still the strongest. Taking his sword once more in hand, the older brother cut off the giant's head, which they took back to their father as a trophy. From that day forth, there was never snow, nor cold, not blizzards, nor ice in the kingdom. And Luke became known as the Giant Killer, a worthy and noble title, that earned him his very own castle and many a fair maiden to serve his every whim..."

The coverlet never found its way over the head of the little princes. The tale they had expected to be terrifying had turned heroic. Perhaps Sverrir had taken pity on them. Or perhaps he was suggesting something else? Little Loki had always taken it as the latter...

Perched on the end of his austere queen-sized bed, Loki allowed his gaze to fall upon cobalt skin. As a boy, he had imagined himself as Luke. Cousin Sverrir was a traveller, perhaps he was also a prophet? In a way, he was.

He and Thor had indeed ventured into the giant's lair, despite Loki's own misgivings.

It had been Loki who had slain King Laufey using his father's weapon.

But nowhere in the foolish tale had it mentioned that Laufey was Luke's father. He did not turn blue. He was not rejected by all, thrust into an abyss, tortured by Thanos and clapped in a glass cage to live an eternity as the monster he slew.

He did not lash out when the restraints were removed. Nor did he look at his captors. It was only when the gag fell from his lips that he allowed any form of movement to wrack his body.

"What have you done to me?"

Of course, the question was utterly foolish. He knew exactly what had been done to him. For the first time in his entire life he was entirely without magic. He had thought the lack of power during his incarceration was bad enough. But this was something else. He could not even feel the tingle of Odin's magic, that brush of feeling that had been with him his entire life.

The first two days of his new life were volatile at best. The floor to ceiling mirrors that adorned his wardrobe were the first victims of his wrath. For the rest of the day, he had been banished from his bedroom while several S.H.I.E.L.D lackeys had removed the tiny shards of broken glass. Now all that remained of his wardrobe was a large open chasm. His anger had also been exacted upon several pieces of furniture, every meal the pathetic humans had thought to bring him and, of course, his brother. He raged like a petulant child, lashing at everyone and everything. It was as though every iota of fury he had felt in the past few years; ever snag of hopelessness or pang of jealousy, was being concentrated into a raging ball of pure anger. It was only made worse when he was visited by Malory.

Several guards had been sent in prior to the mortal's arrival. Loki did not see the point in attacking them, though if cousin Sverrir's story was anything to go by, that is what he should be doing. His wrists and ankles were bound, chained to one of the chairs that adorned his dinner table.

That is when Malory entered.

"Good afternoon, Loki." The dark haired human sat on the opposing chair, elbows resting on the smooth surface of the table.

Loki merely sneered. "You are wasting your time. I told you nothing in Asgard, I will tell you nothing here."

"Oh, I have ways of making you talk." Malory pulled out a small square device, pressing a small button. The glass around them darkened, becoming completely opaque. For the first time in days, Loki could not see the hoards of little human ants watching his every move. It was almost... comforting.

"No one can hear anything you say, nor can they see us. The cameras are disabled." It was only after this declaration that Malory revealed the contents of his other pocket. Loki struggled to keep his face nonchalant as his gaze fell on the lacy green knickers. Her knickers. The very same pair that he had souvenired during their final night together. How had Malory...?

"You should be more careful with your belongings. I found these in the pocket of your jacket. Imagine if someone else had come across them. One DNA test and your beloved Alexandra would find herself clapped in chains quicker than you could say kneel."

Of course. They had taken away his armour, forcing him to wear a hideous jumpsuit of nondescript grey. It clashed terribly with the natural tone of his skin. Alexandra's lacy underwear had been in left pocket of his pants, as close as they could possibly get to his...

"I won't tell anyone about it, if you agree to answer a few of my questions."

"And what makes you think I care if you do?"

"Oh, just a little something Alexandra mentioned as I fucked her last night. Something about how pathetically in love you were. She is such a dear little whore, but don't let the wetness of her cunt fool you. The bitch is incapable of loving you back."

Loki knew Malory was lying. Not just lying, but blatantly lying. Everything from his posture, to the glint in his eyes told Loki that everything that spilt from the man's mouth was foolish vitriol, without an inkling of truth. Loki had been the God of Lies long enough to realise when someone was attempting to fool him.

Nevertheless, the words stabbed him. He had spoken about his Alexandra in foul terms on many occasions, but hearing her described as a "little whore" by Lucas Malory made his blood boil. His fingers curled in their restraints, jaw tightening.

That was how Malory knew he had been successful.

"Splendid, so we have an agreement then. You give us information, and we may just consider letting you have a few privileges."

"I don't want privileges."

Malory smirked. "The dimming of the glass is a feature also applicable to your bedroom. Perhaps one evening..."

"If you are trying to tempt me using Alexandra as bait, you will not be successful. In case you have not noticed, Malory. I am Jotunn. Alexandra would not touch me even should we have the opportunity."

"Oh, I don't think our mutual whore is all that fussy."

"I will not answer your questions."

"I thought we had come to the agreement that you would." Malory sighed dramatically. "You really ought to be more forthcoming, considering your position."

"And you ought to work on your interrogation techniques. I will not talk to you. I will only talk to Alexandra."

Malory cocked an eyebrow. "And what will you tell her?"

"Everything."