A/N:
*wails*
I'm sorry, guys. Really. I seem to be having a longer and longer time in between posting. Don't worry, the story's not done, but... I don't know.
No excuses. :(
Anyway, hope you all like it.
Arianne1: Thank you! Hope you like this chapter. :)
gemma (Guest): You got it right! I'm glad it made you happy.
FromTheAshMeadow: Wow! That's incredible! Thank you so much, and here you go.
beckywbotsford: Yeah. Thank goodness, right? I mean, it's no fun writing them apart. ;)
ThisIsHope: You got it right!
Anna: Thank you! I'm glad you like it, and I'm glad Alana is back to normal too.
devon (Guest) and coolcat (Guest): Sorry about the wait! Here you go!
TWENTY-ONE
Some truths, over time, can learn to play nice
Some truths are sharper than knives
Some truths we only see in the corners of our eyes
Some truths we wish we could hide
Some truths can save us,
Some take our lives
Some truths are fire
And some truths are ice
- "South," Sleeping at Last
She brushed most of the dirt off of her clothing, then ran her fingers through her hair vigorously – a cloud of dust puffed out and she sneezed.
Loki was doing the same, through several streaks of dirt still streaked across his face. Her eyes traced a path down Loki's body, noticing for the first time his new attire. "Where'd you get the clothes?" she asked.
He looked down mildly. "The cabin."
"You stole them?"
His mouth curved up in a half smile. "I wasn't intending to leave quite so soon."
She could see his chest rising and falling – he was breathing slightly faster than normal – and the way his shirt clung to his chest made it hard for her to tug her eyes back to his face.
The small smirk on his lips when she managed to do so indicated that her gaze was not unnoticed.
"Shut up," she said. He raised his eyebrows. "I didn't say anything."
"You're thinking a bit loudly," she replied, her eyes flashing to green for half a second as she began walking towards a nearby tree that had fallen.
He followed behind her. "You started it, love. I can't help that I'm this good-looking."
She laughed and turned around, wrapping her hands behind his neck. "You are a narcissist."
He kissed her by way of response, and her lips parted slightly, her fingers tangling in his hair.
They stopped to rest in a forest with tall trees and low bushes.
She sat down on a fallen log, her hand clamped to her side. Loki knelt down beside her. "Let me look at it," he said softly, his fingers prying hers away from her stomach. She winced but let him peel off the bandages and replace them.
"Where else?" he asked.
She grabbed the bottle of painkillers out of the backpack and swallowed two. "What do you mean?"
His eyes would not meet hers. "Where else are you injured?"
She sighed. "I'm fine, Loki."
He touched her forearm, the five bruises there turning yellow and purple. "You're not."
She paused for a second. "A cut on my arm, one on my leg, a massive bruise and a scratch on my back, these," she said, pointing to her side, "and these," pointing to the bruises on her arm. "But I stitched up the cuts and I'm fine, Loki, really."
His eyes lifted to meet hers and he sighed heavily.
He sat next to her on the log, their legs barely touching. "I am sorry."
"It wasn't your fault, Loki, all right?"
He sighed again. "I was foolish to leave you."
She reached out and touched his face, turning his head towards her. "Loki," she said softly. "You can't protect me all the time."
"Why not?" he asked roughly. "Why can't I?"
His face was close to hers now, and she could feel his warm breath against her skin.
"Because I have to take care of myself," she whispered.
His lips grazed her cheek. "You don't want me to take care of you?" he breathed, and she shivered.
"I didn't say that…" she murmured, feeling his lips trace down to the corner of her mouth.
She turned her head towards him involuntarily before pulling away slightly. "Loki, you can't… I need…"
His hand slipped around to the back of her head, weaving through her hair, even as his lips found hers again, and the sensation made her forget her words and she clutched him to her tightly.
When his lips left hers, she whispered, "Please don't leave me."
"Never."
His hand cupped her chin and he kissed her again, slower and deeper. He could feel the warmth of her body, of her lips, and these were the moments he lived for, her in his arms and her scent surrounding him, and her mouth fitted perfectly to his –
"Well, times have certainly changed," a voice broke in.
Alana flinched and tried to pull away from him, but he followed her, holding the kiss for one moment… two moments… three…
He released her (she stood up abruptly) and lazily opened his eyes. "Hello, Kvasir."
Kvasir snorted. "Thor was the one who used to show up with a wench on his arm, telling her I'd show them something special. Fandral once showed up with three. But you… well," he smiled.
Alana's eyes had been wide with surprise but quickly narrowed. "I'm not a wench."
Kvasir studied her intently. "No, you are only a child."
Her mouth opened a little in disbelief. "Who is this?" she asked, turning back to him.
He stood up. "Alana, this is Kvasir. He was my… mentor, I suppose."
Kvasir held out his hand. "And your long-suffering armor repairer."
He reached into the backpack and pulled out his armor. Kvasir sniffed in distaste. "I'd better get to work on this." He pulled at the fabric, holding it close to his eyes. "He was such a pain. He wanted input on design. And then he couldn't make up his mind about the color. I don't know how you put up with him." He pointed at Loki suddenly. "And you - your heart stopped and you forgot to mention it?"
Loki shrugged. "I'm fine now."
Kvasir scoffed. "Like Hel you are." He produced a bottle of red liquid. "Drink up, you fool."
He took the bottle reluctantly. "Kvasir, I'm fine, really."
She looked at Kvasir, then to Loki, then back. She was tense, on edge, and Loki noticed, his hand touching hers briefly, soothing, reassuring.
She attempted to probe Kvasir's mind but flinched away – a hard, unbreakable wall pushed her out. Kvasir smiled a little, but his voice hardened as he said, "You will not get past my barriers. Do not attempt to again. You will only injure yourself further."
She took a step back as his eyes flicked down to her waist and back up to her eyes. Another telepath?
Kvasir, keeping his eyes on her, pointed at Loki. "Drink."
Loki uncorked the bottle and drank it, making a face. "I'm already healed."
Kvasir, his eyes still on her, said, "Three, two, one," folding down his fingers as he spoke.
Loki collapsed like a marionette whose strings had been cut. She whirled to him as he fell and knelt down next to him, her fingers busy searching for a pulse. "Loki?"
She looked up at Kvasir, accusations swirling in her head. "What did you - "
He waved his hand dismissively. "He's only asleep." He began walking away from her with Loki's armor still held in his hand. "Bring him along, child. We must talk."
She stared after him, and then back down at Loki, who was breathing evenly, a peaceful expression on his face.
She closed her eyes and spread her fingers, palm down.
When she opened them, Loki was floating about four feet off the ground.
She started after Kvasir, Loki trailing next to her, hovering, asleep.
Kvasir's home was small and rough, with a thatched roof and a dirt yard.
Loki floated behind her through the door. Kvasir gestured towards a cot with one hand, his other already tinkering with Loki's armor. "Put him there."
She did as he said, though she was still suspicious of him.
"Don't be," he replied absently. "He's only asleep. And your lifespan is much too short to worry about an old man."
She regarded him carefully. If Loki was over a thousand years old, then he had to be at least four thousand. His long white beard was tangled and knotty, and his hands were veined. His eyes, though now focused on the armor, looked permanently amused, although his bushy eyebrows obstructed them somewhat.
She looked around, noticing bottles upon bottles filling the walls. Some were filled with murky liquid, some with herbs and leaves.
But there were several that glowed and pulsed with a faint light. She drew nearer to one, a pale blue light, and touched the glass gently.
Memories filled with pure fear rushed through her, alien thoughts streaming through her mind, and she pulled her hand back from the bottle, panting.
Kvasir stood next to her and cocked his head. "You have not mastered your powers yet."
"What was that?" she asked, still breathing hard.
Kvasir walked over to another shelf and pulled down a bottle glowing faintly gold. "I make the best armor. But I have a price." He pointed to Loki, lying peacefully on the cot. "Would you like to see his?"
She swallowed hard. "Are these… their souls?"
He laughed. "No. No. These are their truths."
"I don't understand."
"For their armor, I require they give me the truth of their life – it is a useful ingredient in some magic. It is hard for some to give. It nearly killed him," he said sorrowfully, gesturing to Loki. "For others, it is easy."
"I still don't…"
Kvasir raised his hands, fingers outstretched. "I will show you."
She retreated slightly and he frowned. "You must trust me. I will not hurt you."
"Loki's given me memories before," she replied, suspicion in her voice and the lingering pain of the N'itouri in her mind. "It always hurts."
Kvasir scoffed. "He is young. Do not compare me to him, child."
"I'm not a child."
He turned his head, staring deep into her eyes. "He is old, child, and you are so young. He will live for thousands of years, and you… will not."
She felt a lump in her throat and swallowed hard.
He shrugged. "The burden Midgardians must bear."
She stepped forward. "Show me. His truth."
"Very well."
His fingers pressed against her temples, and the world faded out of focus.
She opened her eyes with a gasp.
She stood in the exact same spot in Kvasir's house, but Loki was not in the cot and Kvasir was not in front of her. Instead, Kvasir was busy working at his bench, and Loki was standing with his back to her, his hair much shorter and his stance looser.
Loki was speaking, idly picking up small bottles and looking at the contents. "I was quite jealous of Thor after he got his armor, I'll admit. But the expression on his face when he came out of here…"
Kvasir scoffed. "Thor's truth was just underneath the surface. He had almost recognized it, even before I was involved."
Loki's eyes flicked to Kvasir. "You take the truth? What good can that do for you?"
Kvasir made a humming noise. "It is useful. And oftentimes it is beneficial to the both of us. It can change the making of the armor."
"The making of the armor?"
Kvasir looked up from his work. "The truth is powerful. And that power can be channeled in many ways. Sometimes it influences the making of the armor, armor which is made to be a second skin in battle – I use a bit of each person's truth in their armor, and it takes me where it will."
"I do not understand."
Kvasir smiled. "Shall we begin?"
She watched as Loki turned to face Kvasir. His face looked so young and at ease. She reached out to touch him, her fingers brushing his sleeve, but he did not register the movement, nor the touch.
He knelt before Kvasir, in the center of a large triangle on the floor. Kvasir took a bowl filled with what looked like leaves and crushed them in his hand, inhaling deeply.
He muttered a word she did not understand, then threw the leaves to the ground. Light surged from his hands, outlining the triangle in a brilliant shade of green.
Loki's head flew back and his eyes were filled with green light.
YOU CANNOT HIDE FROM ME, a voice echoed in her head. She recoiled before realizing that Loki was hearing it too. BUT YOU TRY. WHY DO YOU HIDE FROM ME? The voice continued, I CAN SHOW YOU WHAT YOU ARE, WHAT YOU KNOW YOU ARE. WHY RESIST? WHY HIDE AWAY?
Loki clenched his eyes tightly shut, his hands balled into fists. You have no power over me, his voice reverberated through her mind, though his lips did not move.
I HAVE POWER OVER EVERYTHING. WHAT ARE YOU AFRAID OF, SILVERTONGUE, TRICKSTER? WHY ARE YOU AFRAID OF THE TRUTH, LIESMITH?
I am not!
THEN FACE IT. STOP RESISTING.
I… cannot.
ARE YOU AFRAID OF YOUR BROTHER? OF YOUR FATHER?
No.
WHAT YOU ARE AFRAID OF IS YOURSELF, IS IT NOT?
No.
YOU ARE TERRIFIED OF YOUR FUTURE. TERRIFIED OF BEING THE OUTCAST, ALWAYS, TERRIFIED THAT YOUR FATHER DOES NOT LOVE YOU, THAT YOUR BROTHER OVERSHADOWS YOU. TERRIFIED THAT YOUR MOTHER MIGHT FAVOR THOR AS YOUR FATHER DOES.
No!
ACCEPT IT, TRICKSTER. ACCEPT YOUR TRUTH. ACCEPT THAT YOU WILL BE SECOND BEST, ALWAYS, DOOMED TO BE THE LONER AND FORGOTTEN.
I will not!
ACCEPT YOUR TRUTH, AND I WILL SET YOU FREE.
She realized her eyes were filled with tears. "No," she whispered quietly. "That's not the truth."
ACCEPT IT!
She knelt beside Loki and cupped his face. "Can you hear me? This is not the end. Find me. Love me. And I will love you, Loki, I swear, I will love you until I die."
ACCEPT IT!
"This won't last forever," she whispered. "I will be waiting when you fall. I will wait for you forever, Loki – I will be there in the darkness, I promise. Come to me."
Loki screamed, a ragged noise, and she pulled him closer to her. "I love you. I love you. I love you."
ACCEPT IT!
YES! his voice screamed out. I know, I know!
Tears ran down his face, and she pressed her forehead to his.
I will always be afraid and alone.
He went limp in her arms and the green light disappeared – she followed it with her eyes as it flowed into a small bottle, where it lay pulsing, gold and bright.
The triangle around her faded and Kvasir pushed his way in between them, pouring a glowing blue potion down Loki's throat, his hand seeking a pulse. "Damn," he muttered. "Breathe, Loki."
Loki's eyes opened, the green light lingering for half a second more, and then his eyes faded back to a watery emerald, and he fell on his hands and knees, taking deep, heaving breaths, his eyes closed tight – but she could see a tear slip out from beneath his lashes and she reached out to touch his face again, but Kvasir placed a hand on his shoulder, gripping him tightly. "Are you all right?" he asked.
Loki opened his eyes. "I do not know."
Kvasir extended a hand to him and helped to pull him up. "Your armor will be ready in a day. Go and lie down."
Loki made his way over to the cot, a hand rubbing his temples. He sat down on the cot and asked, "Did you… did you hear what I heard?"
Kvasir shook his head. "No one knows that but you."
And me, she thought.
The world faded out of focus and back in, and she was standing outside the hut, next to two men, one with blond hair, one with white. Thor and… was that Odin?
The door opened and Loki stepped out, garbed in his armor, black leather and gold, a green cape swirling over his shoulders and his helm on his head. He looked powerful, but there was a gleam of light and mischief in his eyes. "What do you think?" he asked.
Thor looked at the helm. "Have you taken the cow for your symbol, brother?"
Loki raised his eyebrows. "Well, the chicken was already taken." He grinned suddenly and Thor smiled and clapped him on the shoulder. "You look like a king, Loki."
Loki's helm and shoulder plates faded as he spread his hands. "That was the point, was it not?"
Kvasir stepped out of the hut, and bowed formally to Odin.
"A fine job again, Kvasir," Odin said, his face impassive. "And the payment was satisfactory?"
Kvasir nodded. "Keep an eye on him for a day or two. I had to revive him with a potion."
Thor grinned and turned to Loki. "Did you faint, brother?"
"I look a sight better than you did when you walked out of here. You were shaking, remember?" Loki retorted.
Thor waved his hand. "That was merely excitement."
Kvasir raised his eyebrows but said nothing.
"We must be off," Odin said. "Thank you for your service, Kvasir."
Kvasir said, "Your Majesty, might I speak to you for a moment?"
Odin nodded and Kvasir drew him aside. "He needs more training. Frigga has taught him all she knows, but I can teach him more. I can make him more."
Odin's eye, pale blue, regarded him closely. Finally, he said, "Make him strong." Kvasir bowed and the world blurred again. She opened her eyes and Kvasir took his hands off her head.
"It wasn't true," she said. "What the… voice told him, it wasn't true."
Kvasir shrugged. "The truth is a matter of circumstance. It can change. The ones I take from them do not necessarily foresee the future – it only makes them realize what they truly regard as the truth."
She crossed to Loki and sat on the cot next to him.
"I don't want to leave him," she said softly. "I don't – want to die."
"Then there is only one path available to you," Kvasir answered. "But it will require time. And trust. And – forgive me – but the Allfather will not trust you easily."
She looked up. "What do I have to do?"
Kvasir smiled. "Well, to start with, you'll need some armor."
She knelt down in the center of the triangle, faded on the floor, as Kvasir bustled around collecting ingredients. "The sleeping potion will wear off soon," he said, "and I have an inkling that Loki might think this is dangerous, so we'll have to be quick."
"I make my own decisions," she said. "He'll just have to live with it."
Kvasir nodded. "Good luck." He crushed the herbs in his hand and muttered a word as he dropped them. A haze of green surrounded her, and thousand hands reached for her, pulled her into her own mind - a blinding white glare surrounded her and she landed with a grunt on a flat, white surface stretching out in every direction.
"Alana."
She turned and looked. It was Loki, dressed in gleaming white. He took her hand and helped her up.
"You're not real," she said, but she could feel his hand, smooth and cold, laced in hers.
"Your truth is different."
"Is it?" she asked. "Why?"
"Because you have known it consciously for a while."
She looked at him. It definitely wasn't Loki – he was too perfect, gleaming and radiant.
"You know that death and ruin follows you," he said calmly.
She flinched and took her hand from his. "No."
He cocked his head, like a small child asking a question. "You used to know it. Why are you trying to forget?"
"That's not – that's not true."
"Your brother, your father, your mother… you didn't cause their deaths?"
She breathed in deeply. "It was not my fault."
"And then your mind was wiped, and I… well. I wasn't very good, was I?" He smiled at her, cruelty tingeing his gaze. "How many people died because of you, that day?"
Loki's eyes opened slowly. His head felt fuzzy, and his mouth tasted awful, but where he was laying was comfortable and warm, and a faint smell of leaves permeated the air around him.
He rolled over and a green light passed through his closed eyelids.
Where was he? He had definitely been running away from the Einherjar with Alana, and then they were on Vanaheim… and they met Kvasir… and…
A bitter taste in his mouth, and Kvasir counting down - and then blackness.
He opened his eyes again and closed them briefly – the green light was blinding. How long had he been asleep?
Green light surrounding him, and then the voice comes, loud and harsh and ringing…
He sat up straight. "Alana?"
He swung his legs off the bed, and his eyes fell to her, kneeling on the floor, eyes open but vacant and so far away – they were full of green light, shining, glowing, and a chill ran down his spine.
The green triangle pulsed on the floor around her, and Kvasir stood before her, his hands raised and eyes closed.
He stumbled out of the bed (his legs still seemed half asleep) and towards her, intending to pull her out, but Kvasir flicked his hand and a pyramid of light incased her.
His hands hit the light, but as hard as he pushed, his hands could not break through to her. He whirled to Kvasir. "Let her go."
"It was her choice to make," he said distractedly. "She'll be all right."
"Like I was all right, Kvasir? You had to revive me!"
Kvasir made a little humming noise. "She is strong."
"Let her go. Now."
Kvasir's eyes finally opened and met his. "I cannot."
He pressed his hands against the barrier, staring at her face, shaded in green – she seemed calm enough, but it had hurt so much… the voice in his head, pounding out the rhythm… accept it, accept it, accept it…
He shook off the memories and crouched down next to her.
Be safe.
"No. It wasn't my fault."
"Accept the truth, Alana," he whispered, his face close to hers, one finger tracing down her cheek, the cruelty still touching his eyes.
She stared him in the eyes. "That is not my truth. That is ancient."
He stepped back, the evil light in his eyes fading. "You truly believe that. You are… different."
"I am strong."
"Not yet," he said. "You will be, someday." His eyes flicked up and down her body, assessing her in a detached manner. "Your real truth is that you do not belong anywhere."
She looked away from him.
"You do not belong on Earth – you are different from them. You will not belong on Asgard – you are different from them as well. On no world will you be truly accepted."
"And?" she asked.
"It will be a lonely life."
She shook her head. "I'll have you."
He smiled faintly. "I am not real, as you so astutely pointed out. And you will certainly have him for the rest of your life."
She looked at him; his face was impassive, revealing nothing. "Will he have me for the rest of his?"
"You will never belong anywhere. Do you accept your truth?"
She shook her head. "Maybe I won't belong to a world. But I will always belong with him."
He smiled and touched her cheek. "Good enough."
She felt a string attempting to pull her back to reality, but she resisted. "Wait," she said. "Will he have me for the rest of his life?"
His eyes met hers. "I do not foresee the future. But he will live five thousand years, and you…. Unless he dies an early death, I do not see how it could be possible."
She inhaled slowly. The string tugging on her became more insistent, and she stumbled backwards a few steps. Loki lifted his hand. "Farewell, Alana Cooper."
She gasped and opened her eyes – she was incased in green light, but her eyes immediately went to a brighter substance. Her truth, pale as silver, floated slowly up above her and collected at the point of the pyramid.
She looked away from it, her heart still pounding a hair too fast. She saw Loki's face, hazy through the green, his hand pressed against the barrier. After a second, the light around her disappeared, and she wrapped her arms around him as he moved closer, burying her head in the crook of his neck, breathing in his scent. He held her close, his hands firm on her back.
"Are you all right?" he asked softly. She nodded, and he let out a little sigh of relief. "It's like you want me to worry, Alana."
"I was fine," she said, her voice muffled by his neck. "It wasn't that bad."
He stroked her hair and kissed her gently on the top of her head. Kvasir cleared his throat and she looked up to see him corking a bottle filled with silver light.
Loki kissed her on the forehead and helped her up. She reached out a hand for the bottle, which Kvasir deposited in her palm.
She looked closely at the light, shifting and glowing in her palm. She closed her eyes and reached out her mind, and felt the images of the empty space and Loki dressed in white come back to her.
"I'll have you."
She handed the bottle back to Kvasir. He raised an eyebrow. "What's your favorite color?"
Alana's head rested on his stomach and she let out a little sigh.
"Here we are again," she said. He smiled. They were lying on the grass outside of Kvasir's hut, and the stars were bright and shining above them.
She rubbed her eyes and yawned. "I'm so tired. Maybe it was the running."
He fiddled with a strand of her hair, letting it slip through his fingers. "You should sleep, then."
"No, I want to see the armor, and Kvasir said it wouldn't take that long. He said he's already got the prototype, he's just going to alter it a bit."
He nodded and stroked her hair. "All right, then."
The door to Kvasir's hut opened abruptly, light spilling out. He propped himself up on one arm. Alana shielded her eyes and sat up, furrowing her brow.
A black mass flew through the air towards them and Alana flinched, her hands coming up instinctively to protect her face.
The object stopped, hanging in the air in front of them, and Alana lowered her hands cautiously.
"Oh," she said. It was his armor, newly repaired. She carefully lowered it down to the ground.
The door to Kvasir's hut shut again. "Don't tear it again or I'll make it invisible!" said Kvasir, his voice muffled but only a little irritated.
Alana raised her eyebrows. "That would be interesting."
He smirked. "I could do that, if you're so… interested."
He lay back down and Alana scoffed. "What, so you can have hordes of women throwing themselves on you? I don't think so. Sorry."
"I'd be content with just one," he said. She laughed and bent her head over his, her hair brushing his face, a curtain between them and the world as she kissed him slowly.
He pulled her closer to him, the curves of her body melting into his, and he could feel the earth under his back and her lips were warm and soft on his. She pulled away slightly, her lips still grazing his, and whispered, "Anyone specific in mind?"
"Mm. No one in particular."
"That'll have to change," she muttered, and kissed him again, fiercer this time, the heat of her mouth spreading through his body. His hands skimmed across her hips, and he rolled over, pressing her against the earth, her hands winding into his hair and her body soft under his.
He kissed her again and again and again, planting kisses down her jawline, inhaling her scent, and she let out a little moan, her hands pulling him closer to her, closer, closer -
The door opened again, the light shining down on them, and footsteps approached. He felt a small pang of loss as Alana's hands slid out of his hair, and he felt her hands pushing gently on his chest.
He could practically hear Kvasir rolling his eyes. "Get a room, you two," he said, although his voice was more amused than chiding.
"We would if there were more than one room in your house," Loki responded, grinning.
Alana's hands pushed at him again, and he rolled off her; she sat up, tucking a few strands of hair behind her ears, her cheeks only a bit red.
Kvasir extended a hand to her, which she took as he helped her up. He nodded towards the house. "It's ready. Go change."
She walked into the hut and shut the door, and he stood up, brushing off his shirt.
Kvasir just looked at him, a faint tinge of concern in his eyes.
"What?"
Kvasir shook his head. "Nothing."
He frowned slightly at him, but turned away.
There was a pause, and then Kvasir said softly, "She does not want to die."
He looked up at the sky. "I am glad for that."
"No, Loki, you do not understand – she does not want to leave you. She does not want to die."
He let out a sigh. "What can I do, Kvasir? I tried to talk myself away from her a thousand times by reminding myself I would only lose her in the end. What can I do? She is human."
"And you love her nonetheless."
He did not respond. Kvasir let out a little laugh. "You have changed, Loki."
"I know."
Silence surrounded them, the warm silence of the summer night.
Kvasir said quietly, "She can stay with you forever."
He bowed his head. "Kvasir - "
"Idunn's golden apples."
He paused, and then responded, "The Allfather would never allow it."
Kvasir stepped into his line of view. "You must convince the Allfather that you must take the throne. From there…"
"No."
Kvasir's eyes assessed him. "Thor will not take the throne."
"No, he will not."
"Then who will?" Kvasir let the question linger in the air for a moment, then said, "You are the only choice."
"No," he repeated again. "I went down that road and on it I found only pain and death and destruction."
Kvasir scoffed. "Well, obviously I'm not telling you to destroy Jotunheim. And I'm not telling you to go and tell Odin that to be king is your right – again." He leaned closer. "What I'm telling you to do is show him how you have changed."
"How?" he asked, a tinge of bitterness in his voice. "From my cell?"
Kvasir rolled his eyes. "Odin had confined you to your chamber before you returned to Midgard."
"Convenience. And that was before I broke the rules and stayed on Midgard."
"Nonetheless," Kvasir said, "that indicates a slight thawing of his heart. You must beg for mercy - "
"Again."
"Yes. Thor will be returning from Midgard relatively soon, it seems, and it would be wise for you to appeal to him as well."
He stared at Kvasir in disbelief. "You would have me beg like a peasant to my liege lord?"
"No." Kvasir's eyes were gentle. "As one brother to another."
He turned away from Kvasir again and said nothing.
"There is a war coming, Loki," Kvasir said. "And Thor will be the warrior you value the most, in the end. You must make your peace with him."
"I have."
Kvasir sighed. "Yes, and then you faked your death and pretended to be your own father."
"He's not my father."
Kvasir sighed in impatience. "You must keep your allies close, Loki. In war you will be surrounded with enough hate and fear without distrusting your family – even if you are adopted."
"I cannot be king, Kvasir."
"She will be safe," Kvasir said, clasping his shoulder. "She will be safe and grow old with you."
A shudder went through his bones. I have never dared to hope for that before.
Kvasir nodded. "I know."
Silence for a moment, and then a voice trickled out of the hut. "Um, Loki?" she called. "Can you give me a hand?'
He started towards the hut, but Kvasir stopped him. "The war is coming, Loki." And then, quiet as a whisper, "Make sure you keep her safe."