Beneath

Chapter Sixty-One – Strength

Thor waited in silence. Literal silence. He could shout at the top of his lungs and no one would hear him, no one but Sif, across from him perhaps twenty-five feet away, and Maeva, around twenty feet away sitting cross-legged, eyes closed, on the ground.

His skin crawled. This was his idea in the first place, but he hated it. Hated standing around waiting. Hated doing nothing. Hated playing games when Asgard was at war, even though no one was attacking at the moment. Hated hiding like a coward. He'd let Loki do this to him once, make him both silent and invisible; he'd felt guilty the whole time, he'd gotten caught, he'd gotten in terrible trouble for it, and that was the end of that. He'd warned Loki not to do it anymore either, for all the good that had done. Loki had stopped listening to him a long time even before that.

It used to be different. Loki used to listen to everything he said, do whatever he told him, wait for him to take the first steps before Loki would follow. Loki used to do what he was told. Thor looked angrily down at the ground that had offended him with its existence. It wasn't like that. I didn't just…just order him about. And yet, now that he'd done a little thinking about such things, he understood this anger meant there was an element of truth to the thought. He wondered when taking the natural lead as the older brother had turned to taking charge and barking orders.

But there was no more time to ponder questions to which he had no answers, for a small flicker of light caught his eye and demanded his full attention. He turned slowly to his left, instinctively trying to keep his movements silent even though there was no need. The light was barely visible, hidden deeper into the edge of the wood than he'd expected; only one shining silver edge of the portal was not blocked by trees. From behind one of those trees a figure emerged, wrapped in a pale tan hooded cloak that hid his shape and obscured his face in shadow. When a dried leaf crackled underneath a foot in the opposite direction, Thor couldn't help jumping. His eyes had been so focused on watching for signs of a portal forming, his thoughts chasing themselves down familiar and frustrating paths, that he'd forgotten the one person who'd been waiting here neither invisible nor silent, hiding behind a tree herself until there was reason to reveal herself.

Vigdis clutched her hands together in front of her, yet still Thor could see them tremble. He spun Mjolnir's handle in his loosened grip to readjust his hold on it, watched as Sif fixed her eyes on the emerging cloaked figure and her right hand on the grip of her double-bladed staff. Maeva remained where she was, unmoving, concentrating on her sole task: protecting Vigdis's protectors from discovery. Thor's thoughts flickered for an instant to the past, when he'd been so convinced that his brother and she were perfect for each other that he used to tease Loki that Maeva could borrow his old wedding gown. But it wasn't meant to be, and Loki had destroyed the tattered old gown in a rare fit of rage.

The man in the cloak lowered his hood, and Thor easily recognized Brokk, even though he hadn't seen him in well over a century. Vigdis approached him until she was in arm's reach; her hands now shook so badly Thor thought it was a wonder she didn't shake right apart. Over the past four days his mother had spent hours upon hours with her, accomplishing what perhaps only she could, somehow convincing her to resume her pre-arranged meetings with Brokk but only pretend to work for him, somehow convincing her she would be able to do this.

"I've missed you, Vigdis. You've missed two meetings. I don't like being kept waiting. Where have you been?"

"I…I'm sorry, I couldn't come. I was afraid. It took me a while to convince them to give me back my position in the kitchen."

"Look at how you tremble. You have no reason to fear me, as long as you are obedient. Have you been obedient, Vigdis?"

Thor could see Vigdis nearly gasping for breath, and across from him Sif lowered herself into a battle-ready stance. But finally she managed to answer. "Of course I have, my lord," she said, bestowing upon him an honorific he hardly deserved. "I have my position again, and I'll tell you everything I've heard. You've healed me, Lord Brokk, the nightmares have ceased. I'll do anything you ask."

"I told you I would heal you. So tell me what you've learned," he said as Thor scoffed. Vigdis had been "healed" because she no longer slept over an enchanted blue gem. She'd been given new chambers inside the palace, both for her protection and as a plausible explanation for Brokk to arrive at – if he asked – for why her nightmares had actually ceased.

"They're building nine more silos, and they're going to move everything that's left into those and leave the old ones empty because they're afraid the warriors from the other realms will target them. And they're going to disguise the new ones with magic."

"Did they say where? And how they'll be disguised?"

Vigdis described it exactly as it had been described to her, exactly as she'd practiced, three in the marble quarry made to look like giant slabs of rock, three on the edge of the small forest to the north made to look like trees, three in the immense statuary park made to look like monuments to the fertility of the land. Her fear reverberated through her, roughening the edges of a rehearsed speech enough to make it sound spontaneous.

Brokk questioned her further, threatened her with the return of the nightmares if she did not tell him everything, and though Thor feared she would break here and reveal that she'd been discovered and they were not alone, she held, and Brokk eventually sent her away.

"This is not how I would win a battle," Sif said once all signs of the portal were gone and they'd followed Vigdis back to the city and Maeva returned all three of them to their normal states. "But I'll admit…there was a certain pleasure in fooling him."

Thor agreed with a distracted nod. He still would have rather bashed Brokk's head in.

/

/

"How are you feeling, Mother?" Thor asked a few hours later after escorting Frigga up to her chambers to finally have the moment alone with her he'd been seeking for days now, ever since the day of the prisoner furlough. He'd remembered something she'd told him late one evening, a few days before the explosion in the throne room, and his plans to ask her about it had been interrupted by the discovery of the book by the Midgardian Sun Tzu.

"Much better, Thor, thank you for asking," she said, grasping the sides of his hands and wrapping her fingers around his palms, then pulling him into an embrace that was tighter and lasted longer than he expected. When she finally pulled away her eyes were glistening. "It's different this time."

Thor wrinkled his brow but thought better of asking questions. He had never really known how to deal with his mother when she got emotional. He felt like he usually said the wrong thing, and eventually learned to simply say nothing. She knew he loved her and would do anything she asked of him.

"You'll understand when you have children," she said, leaning in to kiss his cheek, then beckoning him back to her antechamber, where she began pulling off her jewelry.

Thor nodded in comprehension as he stood there somewhat awkwardly and watched. She was worried about Loki.

Suddenly she turned and looked at him intently, and Thor felt even more awkward, more like fifteen than a thousand and forty-…whatever exactly it was now. "You can't imagine how difficult it is to watch your son go off to war. Sometimes I look at you, Thor, and…"

"What?" he asked after a moment, surprised it was him she'd been worrying about. He could take care of himself. It was Loki who was in trouble, and Loki whom she'd always worried about more.

Her serious expression melted away and she laughed, a pleasant, delicate, tinkling little sound whose like he'd never heard from anyone else. "I wonder how I ever survived childbirth."

Thor's tension faded and his own face relaxed into a smile. "Was I unusually large?"

She pursed her lips a moment. "No, not really. You weren't small, but not unusually large. I might have answered differently at the time," she said with a teasing smile, reaching for him and attempting to put her hand around his bicep – it didn't quite make it half-way around.

Thor's reflex, all his life, when something came up about his childhood or infancy, had been to ask whether it had been the same for Loki, because Loki had always been there. Thor was only ten months older, and couldn't remember his life from before Loki was a part of it. He realized now that some of the answers to the questions he'd asked – like the "What about Loki?" that had been on the tip of his tongue just now – had been lies. He didn't know how old Loki was when he'd been brought to Asgard, or how his mother had convinced everyone she'd just given birth to a baby when no one would have seen her pregnant, and when she would have had to become pregnant so soon after giving birth to him. He'd been so stunned when they told him Loki was a Frost Giant that such questions hadn't even occurred to him. The bookend to one of the worst days of his entire life.

Odin stopped him with a firm hand to his shoulder. He took a deep breath and blinked heavily, dragging himself out of his stupor. Behind his father were the ornate double doors to his parents' chambers. He didn't remember coming here at all and wondered how he could have come up so many stairs without even noticing.

"Let me speak," Odin said.

Full awareness came flooding back. Loki. His parents' chambers. His mother. Loki's mother. "I should…I should go. I'll let you-"

"No. Stay with me. We must stay together now, Thor. We must mourn together. There's been enough division among us."

Thor nodded, and suddenly, amidst everything else he was feeling, too jumbled to put any names to it, he was flooded with relief that that was his father's hand on his shoulder, his father's solid form standing right in front of him, his father's one eye boring into his. "I thought you were dead," he blurted out, a lump in his throat. "Loki…Loki said…He said that what I did on Jotunheim, and the things I said to you, it was too much for you, and you…"

"He lied," Odin said softly. "The power was too much for him. He was ill-prepared for it. He said what he needed to say to make you give up on trying to return. He knew you would challenge him and his schemes."

"You…you saw?"

"No," his father answered with a small smile. "But this is the only explanation."

Odin turned and opened the doors; Thor followed him and before he could close the doors behind them his mother had rushed into his father's arms.

"What took you so long? You told me to wait here and then you disappeared and- Thor, are you all right?" she asked, hurrying now to him and placing her hands on his forearms.

He saw her eyes go to his cheek, and wondered if it was bruised from the strike Loki had taken at him with Gungnir. "I'm fine, Mother."

"What was going on between you and Loki? I've never seen you fight like that. I've never seen him look so…so cold. I was afraid he was really going to hurt you."

Thor ducked his head and scratched at it, anything other than having to look her in the eye. And Father had said to let him do the talking.

"Frigg…come sit down," Odin said, putting an arm around her back and pulling her gently away from Thor. He handed Gungnir to Thor, who placed it in the small stand on the marble floor beside the doors.

"What's going on between you two?" she asked as Odin led her to the settee, where they both sat down, leaving Thor standing uncomfortably a few feet away, wishing he could be anywhere in the Nine Realms other than right here watching what was about to happen. "Did he tell you…Odin, does he know yet?"

"Know what?" Thor asked, his response making it clear to them that he did not know whatever it was she asked about. This wasn't supposed to be about him.

"Loki should be here for this. Where is he? You didn't hurt him, did you Thor?"

Thor turned around, his jaw clenched painfully tight. Loki could look her straight in the eye and lie, but Thor never could. She would take one look at his face and know. He heard rustling cloth behind him.

"Frigg, no, sit back down."

"Let go of me, Odin."

"You can't-"

"Yes, I can. I'm going to the Healing Room. My son needs me. Now more than ever. Don't try to stop me."

"Frigga, stop. Listen to me. Loki isn't in the Healing Room."

There was a moment of silence, nothing more than one small swish of cloth. Thor kept his back turned.

"Then where is he?"

After a short pause, Odin answered. "He fell from the bifrost."

"What do you mean? You can't fall from the bifrost."

"The observatory is gone. The bridge is broken and the barriers are no more. He fell, Frigg. He…he let go. There was an explosion just as I got there, and both the boys went flying. I had Thor's ankle, and Thor had one end of Gungnir and Loki had the other. And…he let go. He fell. He's gone, Frigga. We've lost him."

"Then you go find him. You just go and find him. If he fell, then he landed. He landed somewhere, you just have to find him," she insisted, her voice hard and angry, growing louder at the end, trembling slightly.

"He didn't land. There was nowhere to land. There was still a lingering pull of energy from the bifrost, and he slipped into the void. He's truly gone. He could not have survived there for long. I'm sorry, my love. I'm sorry I couldn't…"

"No. No, he's… I know he's… No, Odin, he's not…"

More rustling of cloth, and a moment later soft hurried footsteps followed by heavier ones. Thor finally turned in time to see his mother running into the next room, his father behind her. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment then followed as well. When he was almost there horrible choking noises he immediately recognized as retching came to his ears, and when he reached the entryway his mother, the queen of Asgard, was on her hands and knees with dry heaves while the king of Asgard knelt beside her, keeping loose strands of hair out of her face.

Thor leaned heavily against the empty doorframe and sucked in a deep, quick breath. This isn't happening, this isn't happening. What happened? How did this happen? Why did this happen? This isn't happening… It had all happened right in front of him, and still he couldn't quite believe it.

"Thor, go get us some water," Odin said without looking up.

He straightened up immediately, grateful to be given a concrete task, grateful to be somewhere other than witnessing this level of pain and misery in the kindest woman he knew. When he returned with a pitcher and a glass, Odin was helping Frigga up from the mess on the floor and leading her into a third room, this one a gaming room, at its center a large round table surrounded by nine high-backed leather armchairs. Odin helped Frigga into one, then sat in one next to her and motioned for Thor to sit as well. He got his first good look at his mother's face then, when she lifted her head to drink from the glass Odin brought to her lips. She looked awful, and not at all like his mother. Pale, splotchy skin, glassy eyes, hair stuck to her forehead with sweat.

"Are you ready to listen, dearest?" Odin asked after she'd slowly grimaced her way through half a glass, clutched it several minutes longer, and finally set it on the table.

Arms dangling limply at her side, she stared blankly ahead. "If I don't listen to it now, I'll just have to listen to it tomorrow, won't I? Or the next day. Or the next. Whenever that day comes it'll be no better than this one."

Odin nodded toward Thor, who looked back at him in confusion, for he thought he wasn't going to have to do any of the talking. "Tell her what happened on Midgard."

Thor felt certain he must have paled, if he wasn't white as death already. It would break her heart to know what he did, he thought, before realizing her heart was already broken. But this would hurt her further, and neither he nor Loki could ever stomach hurting her. His father was waiting, though, so he gave in and began to tell her of Loki's visit to Midgard. He'd been in a daze then, devastated by his inability to lift Mjolnir, to make it budge even the slightest bit, and by everything that he knew it meant. That he was no longer himself, that he didn't know who he was or what he should do next, with his identity – his status as the eldest son of Odin, his strength, and his hammer – stripped from him, that he was stuck there until his father decided to forgive him. He'd ignored the questions put to him by that quiet man who sought to threaten and intimidate him with mere words…until he'd asked, "Who are you?" The man may as well have thrust a knife in his gut. And then suddenly Loki was there, and he'd thought that it was over. That Father had seen how low he'd been brought, decided he'd learned his lesson, and sent Loki to collect him. Loki was the bearer of his salvation, his restoration.

But then Loki had begun to speak. He told his parents what Loki told him; he'd clung so desperately to the words, as his hope plunged to despair in a heartbeat, that he remembered them nearly verbatim. When he told them that Loki had said Frigga had forbidden his return, she pitched forward in her chair, grabbed Thor's hands, and squeezed so hard it hurt.

"I would never do that, Thor. Never! I argued with your father. I told him he shouldn't have banished you. He was too rash. Too harsh. He's always been too harsh with you boys. Ask him. Tell him, Odin. Tell him I told you not to treat your son that way," she insisted, turning to Odin, her hands still gripping his tightly enough to crush a mortal's hands.

"Of course, Frigg, of course," Odin said, his expression awkward, impenetrable, as he reached his own hands over to gently pat Frigga's.

"I know, Mother. But he said you blamed me for Father's death, and…you know how he is, how well he lies. I believed him. I believed every word." He told them about the rest of Loki's visit, then about sleeping on a rooftop with a new mortal friend and dreaming of Loki telling him to accept his life on Midgard, leave the little town he was in, get a fresh start away from all reminders of his previous life; it was only a dream, but he mentioned it anyway, because it had seemed so real he still wasn't actually convinced it was only a dream. He told them about his friends arriving and revealing that Odin was not dead, and Loki sending the Destroyer to kill him and his friends and everyone else in town.

Frigga interrupted again, but this time her hands, which had finally slackened from their death grip, she slowly drew back to herself, resting them in her lap. "The Destroyer? Thor…that…that can't be. The Destroyer could kill you even now. But in mortal form? You wouldn't stand a chance. You two have always fought, but…but he wouldn't go that far. Someone else must have been controlling it."

"The Destroyer responds only to the wishes of the one who commands Gungnir. No one other than Loki could have possibly controlled it," Odin said, his voice as gentle as Thor had ever heard it.

Frigga continued to argue and Thor fell silent while Odin continued to try to reason with her until her voice rose and she shouted at him. Thor looked down at the table's dark wood with its intricate gold filigree, his breathing unsteady, until he felt his mother's gaze weighing on him. He met her eyes for a second before she quickly averted them, down to her lap, and Odin prompted him to continue. He felt like his father was asking him to physically wound his mother. He thought she didn't need to know any of this. But Odin was making the choice for him, and it was easier to obey than try to think too deeply about what he should or shouldn't say.

He told them about returning to Asgard and finding Heimdall barely conscious and two Frost Giants dead. He told them what he could about the confrontation with Loki back on the bifrost, about Loki somehow freezing its controls so that its energy continually pounded Jotunheim, but he'd been so full of anger and adrenaline then he remembered little of it in detail, even though it was only an hour or two ago. He remembered random things Loki had said. Threatening his friend on Midgard. Saying he had only wanted to be his equal. Saying they'd never been brothers. His mother's head rolled back against her chair's leather headrest as he continued, briefly relating Loki's expressed desire to destroy Jotunheim and his own final decision to destroy the bridge to stop that from happening. She had pressed her palms against her face, though, and through her hands he could hear muffled sounds of crying; he suspected she hadn't heard much if anything of the end of the story.

"It's our fault. It's all our fault," she said as soon as he stopped speaking. Her hands slid apart and down her face; her eyes slid to Odin. If he hadn't known this was his mother sitting next to him he wasn't sure he would have recognized her at first glance. "We should have told him the truth ourselves, from the very beginning. We should have found a way. None of this would have happened if-"

"Frigga, don't. Don't do this."

His mother was shaking her head and looking downward now, and it took Thor a moment to realize that he didn't know what they were talking about. "The truth about what?" he asked.

Both pairs of eyes snapped up toward his, and he instantly regretted asking. It was probably none of his business, something between the two of them he wasn't meant to know.

"Son…there's something we need to tell you about your-"

"No!" Frigga cut in sharply. "I'll do it. Thor, my dear one…"

Thor glanced nervously between his mother and father. He couldn't remember the last time his mother had referred to him by a pet name or term of endearment. Loki still got those sometimes, but he was just "Thor," or "my son."

She reached for his hands again, but held them normally this time, her hands loosely clasping his after giving them one gentle squeeze. "You and Loki are brothers, and you are both our sons. Nothing will ever change that," she began, while Thor listened and tried not to react to her use of present tense, to her declaration that nothing would change, when he'd just watched his brother plummet to his death and his mother had just been told of it. "But despite what we always led you both to believe, what we led everyone to believe, Loki wasn't born to us. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

She sounded like his mother again, and even looked like it a bit more, in expression if not the state of her face. But her words made no sense. "No…no, I don't. He was born right here, right in these chambers, ten months after me, on the day of the victory over the Frost Giants. Of course he was born to us."

"No, darling, he wasn't. Loki wasn't born in these chambers, and I never carried him in the womb, as I did you. He was born to someone else, someone who gave him up, we assume because he was too small."

"Too small? He's only two inches shorter than me. And he was taller than me for much of our childhood and youth. What are you- Someone gave him up? So…he's adopted? But why wouldn't you tell us that? There's no shame in it."

"Of course there isn't. There's no shame in any of it. We love Loki just as much as we love you, and he is just as much our son as you. But Thor, dear one, it isn't that simple. Loki's life, and yours, would have been difficult had he known the truth, had we not done what we did."

"No one would have treated him differently. I would have made sure of it. And there was a little girl we played with sometimes…what was her name…"

"I know who you mean. Gilla."

"Yes! Gilla. She was adopted. We all knew it. No one cared."

"Gilla was adopted from Aesir parents who died and left no other family behind. Loki…he wasn't born Aesir, Thor."

"Wasn't born Aesir?" This was getting stranger and stranger. His brother wasn't his blood brother, and now he wasn't even Aesir? "There's nothing wrong with being Vanir, either. It would be…unusual, I suppose, but-"

"Loki isn't Vanir." Frigga paused to take a couple of deep breaths, letting them out slowly.

Thor, meanwhile, was shaking his head. This made no sense. The Vanir were the only race that looked the same as- "Loki is of Midgard?!" Thor asked in shock, realizing there was in fact a second realm where people looked more or less like the Aesir.

A short, nervous laugh escaped Frigga's lips. "No. Not Midgardian either. Thor, your brother is Jotun."

It was Thor's turn to laugh. He couldn't fathom the timing, but as far as jests went, this was quite a clever one. When he stopped laughing, he realized his parents had remained silent, and his father wore a deep and unsettling frown. "What is this?" he asked, incredulous. "Have you both gone mad? Has my entire family gone mad while I've been away? Loki is no more Jotun than I am. Have you not noticed the lack of blue skin, of red eyes, of sharp nails, of ice sprouting from his fists, his red blood, his normal height-" "Too small…" No. Ridiculous. "Loki hates the Frost Giants as much as every Aesir. More, judging by what he tried to do tonight. Why…why are you saying such things? Why would you smear his name like this?" he demanded, his growing outrage overwhelming the memory of all Loki had done against him in the last few days, all Loki had done to smear his own name. "This is nonsense."

"It's the truth," Odin said.

Thor shot up from his chair and shoved it underneath the table. "I think I would have noticed if my own brother was a Frost Giant. I don't know what you're trying to do but I won't be a part of it. I'm going to the Healing Room to check on Heimdall and Volstagg."

"Stop."

Thor froze, only a few steps away from the table. It was his father's voice, a single syllable, quiet, but uncompromising. Before he'd been banished he'd heard that tone of voice more than once and blatantly – stupidly – ignored it. His father was the king, and he expected obedience, even from his grown sons. Son, Thor corrected, rubbing a hand over his brow.

"When I first set eyes upon him, he was as blue as any Frost Giant, his eyes as red. His nails were soft, but a bit thicker than yours were. No ice sprang from his fists, but you weren't summoning Mjolnir in your infancy, either. He wasn't bleeding, but if he had been, his blood would have been blue. And he was abnormally small for his race. He was abandoned. When I picked him up, his appearance changed to that of an Aesir baby, and his skin looked similar to mine."

"Then it was all a trick of some sort. Babies can't change their appearance." And Loki hadn't been able to change his until they were adults.

"Loki had incredibly powerful instinctive magic then. Like none I've seen before or since."

Thor shook his head in determination. "No. This is…" This is madness. A neverending day full of madness followed by even greater madness. "Loki is not a Frost Giant."

"He is, Thor. You insisting that he isn't doesn't make it so. Something happened when you were on Jotunheim, something that disturbed him. When I heard the warning alarm that someone had entered the Weapons Vault, I went there and found Loki holding the Ice Casket. He put it back, but he'd already seen that it turned his skin Jotun blue. I told him the truth then, and I could not get him to see reason. And that is when I fell into the Sleep, as I listened to my son call himself a monster. Thor, think of your own reaction to learning this. Look at yourself. If you grip that chair any harder you'll rip the leather and crush the frame, and I can almost see smoke coming from your nostrils they're flaring so widely. You find the idea so repugnant you can barely control your anger. Perhaps now you can understand why we never wanted anyone to know."

"And now he's gone," Frigga whispered, her eyes flickering up toward Odin's, her voice startling Thor, who'd managed to forget she was there she'd fallen so quiet. "So what was the point? We meant well, but we should have told him. I wanted to tell him. In the beginning…I wanted to tell him."

Odin reached across the table for her hand but she pulled it away, resting it in her lap, staring at the table.

Thor meanwhile looked at his father and found his own anger peaking again. Odin didn't need his help with Frigga; Thor didn't have any idea how to do that anyway. His father had insisted he come with him here so they could tell him that his brother wasn't his brother, that Loki was adopted from Jotunheim. "What was the point of any of this? Why did you insist on telling me this thing about Loki? What difference does it make now where he was born?" he asked, still not accepting what he'd been told.

"You needed to know the truth," Odin said.

Thor shook his head. Why? he kept asking himself, the word bouncing around inside his head painfully. He thought back quickly over what had happened today. He'd lost Loki. He'd loved Loki. He'd been so furious with Loki. For a moment, when he threatened Jane, he'd hated Loki. He didn't know how to fit "Loki is a Frost Giant" into any of that. He didn't want to fit "Loki is a Frost Giant" into any of that.

His hands at his sides once Odin pointed out that he was about to destroy the chair, Thor watched as his mother stood as well.

"Where are you going?" Odin asked.

"I'm going to see for myself. You weren't gone that long, you didn't look hard enough. He's my son. I can find him," she answered, her voice stern, accusing.

"He isn't there, Frigg, he's gone," Odin said, standing as well and hurrying to block her path.

"Let me go."

"The bridge is dangerous. There are shards of crystal everywhere, and the barriers are down."

"I could…I could go after him," she said softly. She then lifted her head toward Odin and her voice grew stronger. "We could devise a way. Some way to hold on to me, and I'll-"

"No, Frigg, it isn't possible. He fell into the remnants of the bifrost energy. No one can follow him."

"But…"

Thor tuned it out as his parents continued to argue. His mother's voice grew louder and several minutes later she abruptly collapsed. He moved to go to her, but his father caught her and held her. They'd forgotten him and their attempt to convince him that Loki was from a race of monsters, remembering that whatever race Loki was, he was dead. Thor wanted to forget as well. He wished he'd never heard this awful thing. It was awful enough to lose his brother, but to be told this…

Thor was certain he would never have believed it at all had he not gone to see Heimdall in the Healing Room and obliquely brought it up, only to have Heimdall confirm it, for he'd seen Odin taking a baby from Jotunheim and been sworn to secrecy, and he'd seen Loki use the Ice Casket against him and partially morph into Jotun form. Eir had stopped in, and Heimdall told him that she knew as well, and Eir confirmed it then, too, explaining that she suspected some of the oddities of Loki's childhood, such as his delayed speech, were due to him being Jotun. Eir cried as she spoke; Heimdall did not. It had still taken him a while to accept that his brother was not who he'd always thought he was, and to this day he supposed he hadn't really dealt with it, even when he'd learned Loki was still alive. When he looked at Loki he just couldn't see him as anything other than his blood brother, an Aesir no more or less than he himself was. It was almost laughable to think of Loki – Loki! – as a Frost Giant, when Loki was shorter than him.

"What was it like, Mother?" he finally asked. "Bringing Loki into the family."

Frigga looked up at him from her dresser and smiled. "Send your armor away and come here, like when you were younger," she said, motioning him to her side as she settled down on her low-backed settee that would have been a bit more suited to his frame when he was younger. Still he did it, leaving Mjolnir on the floor nearby and remembering that it was Loki who'd helped him learn how to make his armor obey his will through Mjolnir. She reached to put an arm around his shoulder and leaned her head against him. Though she'd referenced his younger years, it was Loki who'd spent so much time at their mother's side that Thor used to tease him for it; he wondered now why he'd begrudged Loki the time he spent with their mother.

"Joyful. He was an easy baby. Rarely cried. No temper tantrums from him, thank goodness, since his big brother more than made up for it," she teased.

"Thank goodness I grew out of them last year," Thor said with uncharacteristic self-deprecation.

Frigga stretched upward to kiss his cheek, her light laughter muffled against his beard.

Thor relaxed further and looked down at her, feeling a surge of love and protectiveness. She'd seen so much grief already, and he wanted to shield her from any more of it. "I meant because he was a…a Frost Giant. It must have been difficult. But I don't remember anything strange."

"Oh, Thor, you were so young then, you wouldn't remember anything anyway, but there wasn't really anything strange, not about him being a Frost Giant. Your father made sure he kept his Aesir form. And any oddities that came up…there was no way to know if it was because he was Jotun. When I started giving him solid foods and I fed him some softened mila beans, he had an allergic reaction and could barely breathe. Eir saved his life. But we never knew if Jotuns can't eat mila beans, or if it was just that Loki had a childhood allergy. One evening I bathed you with a new type of soap and your skin started to blister and you were screaming and I was shouting and I was certain I had just killed my baby and my own life was over. But Eir treated you too, and you were fine after a day or so. And you aren't a Jotun."

Thor stiffened a little in her arms, unsure how to react. In the past he might have laughed at the absurdity of it, but now it made him uncomfortable. A year ago he would have said the same of Loki. Thor wondered for the first time what it would be like to be told that in fact he was Jotun. It was too unfathomable even to imagine. And Loki had gone through that. Something had happened on Jotunheim. Thor had never noticed whatever it was. He hadn't kept track of where Loki was or what he was doing once the fighting started. He'd been annoyed at him, constantly trying to placate the Frost Giants, to avoid a fight. Now he wished he'd listened. How different things could have been…

But this time relaxing with his mother and indulging in endless soul-searching and digging through memories was a luxury he really couldn't permit himself much of. He'd come here for a reason, and then he had to go find Bragi before heading back out to join the other warriors.

"Mother…there was something you said…that you may know a way to find Loki. Now that we don't even know what realm he's on…"

"I've considered that. And I was tempted. But it would be a violation of Loki's trust. I will only pursue this method if we know there's no other way to protect him. He's in danger…but thus far he's protected himself well. I'm not ready to use it, when I know he may need it later. When I still worry more that he'll never forgive me for it than I worry he won't persevere."

Thor released a heavy breath. "You know I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Yes, I know. Thank you for not pressing me."

"Of course."

"I miss him," Frigga said with a sigh.

"I know," Thor said. "So do I." "Never doubt that I love you." "Nice feathers." He missed that Loki. Even if it had all been a lie. Sometimes a lie was better than the truth.

/

/

Frigga watched Thor go, telling herself he would be fine, he was strong, no harm would come to him. She told herself the same about Loki. He worked hard for his strength, and whatever he lacked in sheer physicality he made up for in speed and wit. But she had been tempted to try to locate her son through the energy signature of the enchanted gem she hoped he still wore around his neck as he promised. She knew he would be livid if she did that, if he believed for one second that she'd only given him that gem in order to track his movements, to manipulate and control him. She couldn't bear to see him turn against her the way he had everyone else, not unless there was no other choice.

She had no more wanted to manipulate and control Vigdis, though she'd been ready to do so, if needed. She'd reminded her that treason was punishable by death, and that while Vigdis was not yet of age and was thus not subject to that or other physical punishment, she could still be imprisoned for a very long time.

"I think you knew what you were doing, Vigdis."

"No, I didn't. I didn't, I didn't, I didn't-"

"Vigdis, tell me the truth."

"But I didn't, Your Majesty! I truly…I suspected…oh, I suspected! But I didn't know what else to do, I was so tired, I hadn't slept well in so long…I would have done anything, and Brokk asked so little…"

"He used you. He manipulated you." She knew then and there she couldn't do the same.

When she calmed again, Frigga placed her hand over the troubled young girl's. "When my boys were little, and had gotten into some trouble, I would insist they tell me in their own words exactly what they'd done wrong, so that I was certain they understood their mistake and why they were being punished. Vigdis, tell me what you did wrong."

She thought for a moment before speaking. "I shouldn't have told Brokk about the new grain silos. And the warning signals. And that you didn't know where Prince Loki was. And where the-"

"No, Vigdis, tell me about the mistakes in your behavior."

She shook her head. "I went to the healers, Your Majesty, they couldn't help me. I don't know what else I could have done."

Of course they hadn't been able to help her. There was nothing physically wrong with her, no enchantment on her. As soon as Vigdis left her bedchamber, she was fine. "Not then. You did all that you reasonably could then."

"I don't know- When Brokk first approached me! I should have said something, told someone. I should have told an Einherjar. But I didn't tell anyone," she said, her face clearly expressing every emotion that flashed through her. Real deceit wouldn't come easily to her, Frigga knew.

"And later? What mistake did you make later?"

"Later?" Her eyes widened in realization. "When the throne room exploded. It was then that I was sure Brokk was lying. But still I didn't tell anyone. I was afraid. But…but people died and I should have said something. I'm sorry, Your Majesty, I'm so so sorry…"

"Come here," Frigga said with a sigh. Vigdis looked confused, so Frigga held her arms open and repeated her words. It wasn't long before the girl went from reluctantly allowing herself to be embraced to sobbing on Frigga's shoulder. Frigga remembered that Vigdis had lost her mother as a young child, remembered how she'd always thought it would be nice to have a daughter. But it wasn't a daughter she wanted. It was a son. A dark-haired, sweet-smiled, clever son who'd once loved and trusted her completely. She held tightly to Vigdis and comforted her, ready to give her all the caring and support Thor's book called for. Vigdis had done wrong out of desperation. Frigga could give her an opportunity to make it right.

/

/

"I hope I see you again someday," Jane said as Loki slipped out of his Carharrts. He paused to stare up at her with one leg of the black overalls on and one leg off. "Under better circumstances," she added with a shrug. That part was so obvious in her mind that she'd thought it would be understood.

Loki's mouth curled into something sort of intended to be a polite smile, but mixed with curiosity, disdain, and a sudden urge to be anywhere but here, and in the end it more closely resembled the look of someone who was about to be sick. "We'll dance and have drinks, throw darts, go for a hike, reminisce about all the fun we had here."

Jane's smile wound up somewhere near Loki's. Better circumstances. Like when you decide to own up to what you did, sincerely apologize and try to make it up to Earth somehow, and stop being just generally the world's most awful person. The Nine Realms' most awful person. Then she remembered what he'd said about having enemies on all the realms. And that he was going home to a war. "Be careful, Loki, and…" She pulled her lips in between her teeth and pressed down hard. She wanted so badly to ask him to send a message to Thor, to tell him to be careful, but she was trying hard to be smarter about what she said to him.

"And?" he prompted, suspecting he knew exactly what she wished to add.

"Nothing. Just be careful." And don't be a jerk.

Loki ignored her and held out his hand to take his suitcase, which he then opened and from it took his leather surcoat, leaving the Carhartts on the floor of the jamesway. He hadn't planned to meet Jane here, didn't need anyone to wave goodbye to him. He'd joined her and a small group for breakfast that morning, Sunday, April 25, and quietly told her as the group broke up that he was leaving today. He'd left before she could respond.

Now he was stuck readying himself in front of her, letting her watch as he tucked knife after knife into various locations in the leather coat and belt, sheathing them also into the leather straps that crisscrossed his chest in the light version of his armor he'd brought out, covering one of his poorly-repaired tunics. Next came the Einherjar's sword in the sheath he'd fashioned for it; this he attached to a harness slung over his neck and under one arm. It was hardly royal regalia, but it was far better than anything he'd worn in a long time.

Jane stared, subdued and intimidated by the extent to which he'd armed himself, all but the sword hidden away. "Your shoulder's better?" she finally asked him as he bounced a few times on the balls of his feet and stretched, getting re-acquainted with his Asgardian threads, she supposed.

"It's fine," he answered, sliding the various devices he needed to travel via Pathfinder onto his wrists and into his bag. He put it at about 90%. Not perfect, but good enough that he wasn't willing to wait any longer. He went to the door. "I enjoyed our conversations, Jane. Some of them. Thank you for assisting me. I realize it wasn't easy for you." Something tensed in him and he hesitated for a moment, but then threw open the door and made his way around the building. She'd brought Pathfinder inside and boxed it up; this morning he'd set it up again. He quickly got into position and pressed the button; he'd felt the urge to say something more before, but this was merely the awkwardness of goodbyes, which he'd always hated, and more awkward in this case because…because. Jane. Mortal. Thor. Jane. Anything was possible, he supposed, but he didn't think he'd ever see her again now. And if she'd followed him outside – he hoped not – it was too late for any more awkwardness.

Light flashed and gravity winked out at what felt like the same time; he made himself invisible; he paid for it as he had before. Goodbye, Midgard. Hello, Yggdrasil, branches screaming past far more quickly than he could process them, and already he wished he could see Jane again just so he could declare to her with a smirk that yes, he could see those branches perfectly well with his own eyes. But Jane was behind him; Asgard, Alfheim, and glorious purpose in the form of merciless revenge were ahead of him.

There were plans – or portions of plans – that were executed flawlessly, proceeded exactly as foreseen, and worked extraordinarily well. Loki was reminded of the perfectly timed Frost Giant attempt to steal the Ice Casket, the many intricately moving parts required to make him seem the hero in killing Laufey just before Laufey could kill Odin, the multiple accomplishments derived from the simple act of making a public appearance in Stuttgart.

Then there were plans – or portions of plans – that failed miserably, shamefully, spectacularly, usually because he had failed to take something into account. Thor being willing to die in some dusty blip of a town for a handful of mortals who would've died in a few years anyway. Thor bursting in to steal his moment of glory and fill his mother's ears with tales of his misdeeds. Thor destroying the bifrost and cutting him and everyone else off from most of the other realms for who knew how many centuries. Thor showing up in a sudden thunderstorm when by all rights he should have still been well and truly stuck on Asgard – so many of them involved Thor, yet Loki recalled days when Thor had been more of a co-conspirator in his plans; admittedly those plans had typically been of a different flavor. The Avengers somehow coming back together after he'd scattered them. The Chitauri taking more interest in massive random destruction than in actually conquering. Bruce Banner somehow gaining control over his supposedly uncontrollable inner beast. The list went on and on in that whole New York debacle.

Unfortunately, Loki realized as soon as he left his only refuge in the Nine Realms and appeared in Asgard, this was another example of the latter.

/

I'm not 100% satisfied with this title, though "strength" is present in many forms in this chapter. Probably I'll have to leave it at that.

Thanks for reading, reviewing, favoriting, following, etc., you help keep me going!

Previews from Ch. 62: Hard to do this time without getting too spoilery, but you'll find out how Loki's plans have gone awry. Also, Thor has a moment of revelation that I must say I found painful; Thor investigates a report of something strange happening.

Excerpt - just a sentence, yeah, I know, sorry!

Loki reached behind him and silently drew his sword in his right hand, the dagger he'd fashioned from the blade taken from his back in his left.