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Beneath

Chapter Two Hundred Eight – Mirror

Loki wasn't sure what he had expected, but the change in Geirmund's expression reflected confusion more than shock, and not even a flicker of fear. Frigga's shock was plainer, and though it was quickly schooled, she was still watching him rather than Geirmund now. Affecting indifference, he cast a seemingly casual glance around. Thor's jaw was slack. Finnulfur had taken a step forward but now stood still, looking aghast. Odin's eye had narrowed to a slit and both hands were tightly clenched into fists, the one around Gungnir surely would have snapped it in two had Gungnir been any ordinary staff. Among the others were murmurings and looks of shock. Except for Jane. His eyes met hers and lingered there, taking in her steady gaze. He then sought out Eir, who gave him a cautious nod.

"Yes," Geirmund said as soon as he seemed to grasp what Loki was saying, with some among the crowd behind him still whispering among themselves. "Yes, I'll do it. Whatever you ask of me, I'll do it. But I swear to you I'm not trying to evade responsibility. I shouldn't have said that. I'm sorry."

"So you admit you lied."

"I didn't lie. I haven't lied since…since last night."

"I won't have a waffling confession."

"I confess fully. I'm not—"

Geirmund's mouth snapped shut when Loki withdrew a knife from the hidden sheath at his waist. A gasp and some quickly cut-off cry – the start of a plea, Loki thought, probably from the wife – came from the gathered Asgardians. Loki's fingers shifted on the handle. He had no intention of slicing anyone up, not even Geirmund, right here in the throne room. The little knife he held wasn't up for the task even if he himself was. But it was tempting. Images of it flashed through his mind unbidden. Cutting. Stabbing. A brother lost and a thousand years of guilt over it. This coward's fault. His hand itched to act.

Loki handed the knife to one of the Einherjar. "Cut off his sleeve. I need the upper arm."

Geirmund lifted his arm to assist the guard's work, and soon the material was cut away down to the wrist where a portion of it remained stuck underneath the manacle, and tossed aside to the floor. A servant darted forward, picked it up, and hurried away.

The knife went back into its sheath, and Loki held out the blood-red patch again. "Let's get the full truth, then, shall we? I warn you: Finnulfur informed me that these are dangerous. They cause severe pain, along with other unpleasant side effects. For your sake it would be better to tell the truth now."

"I swear to you I'm not recanting. I confess. You'll hear no different with that patch. I'll prove it," he said, thrusting his arm out as much as could.

"You want to do this."

"What right do I have to avoid pain? I don't want anyone to doubt. What happened to him was not your fault and all should know it."

"A fine sentiment. Unfortunate that it didn't happen a millennium or so ago, before I recognized you and called you out."

Geirmund's head dropped, but only for a moment. "Yes. I'm ready. Please."

Loki stared. He'd expected resistance. None of this was going as planned. "I didn't want him dead"? What utter nonsense. Geirmund had changed the arrow; of course the traitor had wanted Baldur dead. Geirmund had no death wish for himself, though. It was last-minute desperation. A plea for leniency that some remaining shred of honor would not allow him to directly voice. Yet he was sticking to his confession, even as he denied it. Under painful compulsion he would be forced to reveal his deception. Why did he not resist? Did he think he could withstand the power of the compulsion?

Unfortunately, Loki could think of no way to find out for certain. "You utter fool. Put your arm down. No such means of reliably compelling truth exists." Loki let the red patch transform back into the lining of his pocket and drift to the floor.

Geirmund complied, lowering his arm slowly, confusion evident.

The same servant from a moment before started forward to remove the scrap of cloth, but this time a hard glare from Loki stopped her in her tracks. He turned his attention back to Geirmund. "Why did you do it?"

"I wanted him to stay away from Nanna."

"By making sure a weak arrow could reach his heart."

"Yes. I…yes."

"Then you lied. You did want him dead."

"No. I just…I didn't want him around her."

"Killing him was an excellent means of keeping him away from her. Quite permanent."

"Yes."

"You aren't making any sense! What did you want? Why do you not just say it?" Loki shouted, on the verge of losing control. His mother, nearly forgotten but still standing beside him, drew closer and touched a hand briefly to his. "You admit to making the arrow lethal, and now you try to wriggle out of what that means? It's too late for that. Tell me what you wanted. Answer me!"

"I don't know!"

Loki's head drew back sharply, momentarily stunned by the outburst, the first time he'd heard Geirmund raise his voice. The first time Geirmund had shown him anything but cowering deference.

"Explain," Frigga said, firmly but quietly.

Geirmund looked away from her, off to the side where he could find only more eyes staring at him, waiting, then down to the ground, and back up again. "I don't know. I can't explain. It all happened so fast. I didn't have a week or even a night to plan it, to consider what might happen, what the consequences might be. I made a decision between one blink of an eye and the next. The worst decision of my life."

"One blink of an eye?" Loki repeated. "You watched me argue with Baldur. You followed me to the birch tree and back. You waited while I carved an arrow. You followed me to where he was. That is the story you told, both last night and tonight. Do you blink but once every few hours?"

"No, no, that's not—. I saw you arguing, yes. I didn't think that meant you intended to kill him. I thought you meant to make a point. And I saw you m—"

Before Geirmund could finish whatever muddled drivel he was spouting, something in Loki snapped. The next thing he knew, a sword was in his hand and his mother was standing in front of him. He frantically looked her up and down, afraid for a split second he had accidentally run her through. She appeared unharmed, though, and the sword was clean. The Einherjar he'd apparently taken it off of stared wide-eyed at him.

"My prince." The voice was quiet but clear in the now silent throne room; Loki realized that a moment before it had not been quiet at all. He turned, not realizing it was Finnulfur who had spoken until he caught sight of the older man. Beside Finnulfur stood Odin, watching the scene before him with that sharpened gaze that made his subjects – and his stolen Frost Giant false son – feel like he could look straight past their eyes and into their minds. To Finnulfur's other side was Thor, gripping Mjolnir as hard as Odin had been gripping Gungnir earlier. Loki could swear he heard a clap of thunder beyond the heavy palace walls. It took a few seconds for Loki to realize that Thor's eyes , and thus Thor's fury, were focused on Geirmund, and not on him.

"Yes?" Loki said in a clipped, tightly controlled voice.

"If I may?"

Loki forced himself to take a deep steady inhale, conscious only then of his heaving breathing. "You may," he said on the exhale. He lowered his arm, but kept the sword. He had utterly lost control of this situation and it clawed at his insides. He didn't know how he'd allowed that to happen, how they had gotten from a clean, clear confession to whatever it was that Geirmund was saying now. He remembered grabbing and spinning the Einherjar and yanking out the sword, but through a distorted haze, as though someone else had done it. He'd walked into the throne room exuding confidence, a king in his rightful domain. He now felt closer to a youth, standing before the First Magistrate uncertain, apprehensive, buffeted by waves of wildly shifting emotion, thinking he'd arrived prepared only to realize how wholly unprepared he was. As a youth, all these things had probably played openly across his face and in his stance. As an adult, he knew better. He kept his expression stony, and waited to see what Finnulfur intended. He would put a stop to it if he didn't approve, but in the meantime he was grateful. He had been getting nowhere, and his state now was such that he wasn't sure he could keep calm long enough to get these proceedings back on track.

Finnulfur stepped forward enough to separate himself from the rest of the onlookers, but maintained distance from Loki, Geirmund, the two guards, and Frigga, who had returned to Loki's side as soon as the sword went down.

"Geirmund, when you realized that the mistletoe branch Prince Loki had taken was not subject to the magic that prevented everything else on Asgard from harming Prince Baldur, what did you believe Prince Loki planned to do with it?"

"I didn't know," Geirmund said, back to his subdued voice and simple answers. "That's why I followed him."

"But you've said you were aware of what was unique about it. Did you at least have an idea? A guess?"

"Yes," he said over a slow nod. He glanced from Finnulfur to Loki and back again. "I thought he might use it to hurt Prince Baldur in some way."

"And what was your reaction to that possibility?"

Geirmund didn't answer immediately, eyes drifting. A pause for reflection? Or an indication of a lie to follow? Loki calmed. This was much better. With Finnulfur speaking, Loki could concentrate on analyzing Geirmund's every movement, listening for every change in tone.

"It was so long ago. I think I was curious. More than curious. I…I wanted to see exactly what he was going to do with it, if I could."

"When you followed him to the stables, and you found out that he'd shaped an arrow from the mistletoe, what did you think Prince Loki planned to do with it?"

"I thought he was going to use it against Prince Baldur. To shoot it at him, probably. I knew he wanted Baldur, I mean Prince Baldur, to stop taking such risks. He thought he was being foolish. When I saw the direction he was headed, I was certain he planned to use the arrow to draw blood, in front of everyone."

"Only to draw blood? Or to take life?"

"Only to draw blood. They were brothers. They argued fiercely, but I thought—."

"You thought what?" Finnulfur prompted.

"I thought Prince Loki was worried for his brother's safety. And…I thought Prince Baldur was acting like an entitled brat." Geirmund had been facing Finnulfur before, but these words were spoken to the ground, before a whispered "I'm sorry" accompanying a glance up toward Frigga, who didn't outwardly react. "I thought Prince Loki meant to teach him a lesson."

Murmurings rose up from the onlookers again, but Loki paid them no mind. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. Had Geirmund simply said that to the investigators, at the trial, never mind Geirmund's actual involvement, Loki might have avoided that judgement against him, or at least been judged only for an accidental death.

"What did you think of the lesson you believed Prince Loki had planned?"

Again the delay, the distant look, this time shadowed with guilt.

"I thought it was brilliant."

Loki's eyes narrowed. "Brilliant." As though Geirmund was trying to earn clemency through some twisted form of flattery. Thinking back, he supposed he, too, had thought it was brilliant at the time. He'd caught something the rest of Asgard and even his wise and talented mother had missed. What a spectacle it would make. What chaos… Brilliant…

"You thought it was brilliant, and yet you decided to intervene. Why?"

"It was as I said. I realized he'd whittled the arrow down too much."

"Yes, but why? Why did you change an arrow incapable of dealing a mortal strike to an eighteen-year-old to one that was capable of that?"

"I wasn't thinking of it that way," Geirmund said, shaking his head before seemingly catching himself and abruptly stilling. "I was thinking…what was the point of an arrow made of mistletoe and capable of injuring him if it was so flimsy it would almost bounce off him, the same as everything else? And then when he handed it to Hodur, an old blind man…I…I was angry, I think. I don't know. It was all so fast! It was…like a golden opportunity had been handed to me. Prince Loki would take care of my problem without me having to do anything, and then he was squandering it right before my eyes, and I just…I just did it."

A flash of anger. "I just did it." Was that really all it was? Loki was reeling. It couldn't be. It had to be more than that. He was angry, he "just did it," and Baldur's life was over, Loki's along with it for the next couple of decades? This was not the image he'd formed of Geirmund and his actions before. This was not what he'd wanted to hear. Not why he'd agreed to require a more public confession. Everything was unraveling and he could not for the life of him settle his mind enough to figure out how to stop it. So he simply stood there, paralyzed, listening as Finnulfur continued, struggling to make sense of what he was hearing. Struggling not to make sense of it, to cling to what he'd understood before and hold this new version of events at bay.

"You have described it as an instantaneous decision."

"Yes."

"The distance from the royal stables, where you knew an arrow had been made, to the site of Prince Baldur's death is several minutes' walk. We could measure it out, but it must be at least five minutes' walk, probably closer to ten, depending on one's pace. The only thing that changed during that time was who used the arrow. You were not already considering your course of action during that time?"

Yes, Loki thought, perking up. Yes, he had to have been. There was no instantaneous decision. There had been time to make a calculated choice.

"I don't know. I don't remember exactly what I was thinking. Yes, I…I probably was. I'm not deliberately holding anything back, I swear it."

"That day was also not the first time you'd considered harming Prince Baldur, was it? Last night you told us you had thought about bringing something back from Vanaheim that could hurt him."

"That's correct."

"What did you consider obtaining there?"

Geirmund looked surprised by the question, as surprised as Loki felt. He couldn't believe it hadn't occurred to him to ask about that himself. He hadn't taken any note of the comment at the time, though as soon as Finnulfur mentioned it Loki remembered Geirmund saying it. By the time Geirmund spoke though, Loki was fairly certain what the response would be, and he was correct.

"I don't remember. It wasn't…there wasn't a plan. Just a general idea."

"What types of items, then? Blunt objects? Sharp objects? Something else?"

"I…I don't know. I'm sorry. I just don't remember." Distress was plain on Geirmund's face; he didn't like talking about this. That wasn't a surprise. It revealed an element of forethought that wasn't in the spirit of this revised confession. Still, as Loki thought back on what they'd heard last night, he recalled that even then Geirmund had specifically said he'd thought about bringing something to Asgard that could hurt and not kill Baldur.

"You described Hodur as an old blind man. But Hodur was a hero of the Aesir-Vanir War. A skilled archer from the days when Asgard actively trained archers, before he lost his sight. Were you aware of that?"

Loki managed to swallow over his dry, tight throat on the second attempt. "Were you aware of that?" He had been asked the same thing. He'd lied. A particularly stupid lie. Someone had dug up the record of the time Hodur and a few other Aesir-Vanir War heroes had come to his and Thor's lessons when they were still small children, part of their first studies of that war. How Hodur had demonstrated his ability to hit a target that made noise.

"I'm not sure I was thinking of that at the time, but yes. I knew."

Finnulfur nodded and turned to Loki. "Perhaps you have additional questions, my prince?"

"I have a few questions for the prisoner."

All eyes turned to Odin.

Odin, meanwhile, looked steadfastly at Loki.

Loki's jaw worked minutely. He wanted to forbid it. But he could not oppose Odin here. He'd lost his fear of standing up to Odin in private settings. To do so in front of the entire Assembly and so many more would come with consequences, ones he had not fully explored and was unwilling to risk without having done so. He clamped his jaw shut, resigning himself to whatever would follow. An inappropriate desire to laugh bubbled up in him. How much worse could it get, anyway?

Sensing Loki's reluctant acceptance, Odin stepped forward, as Finnulfur stepped back with a bow. A look of surprise flashed over Frigga's face when Odin kept going, stopping only once he reached her side, before the worried, unsettled look from before returned.

"True or false, you did not change Loki's arrow with the deliberate intent to cause Baldur's death."

"That is true, Your Majesty," Geirmund said. The continued clear guilt on his face, Loki thought, did not match his words.

"Why did you not clarify that last night? Your statement then led us to believe you desired his death."

"I didn't intend to mislead anyone. When I read the register text, I realized the misunderstanding…but I accepted it. It makes no difference. He died because of me regardless of what I intended."

Loki knew his face had twisted into something that showed his revulsion; he couldn't be bothered to mask it. "It makes no difference"? It was the only way he'd been able to live with himself as he recovered, as he truly recovered. The distinction mattered to him. And it mattered to Asgardian law. Geirmund was claiming the same distinction that Loki had long claimed, at least in his own mind, and not so long ago, to Jane. It mattered. He sought out Jane and found her looking right out him, giving him a bracing smile when their eyes met. Loki's eyes went back to Odin.

"It's true that he's dead regardless of what you or anyone else intended."

The muscles in Loki's face pulled so taut it felt like his skin would tear. "You or anyone else"? Odin had cast him and Geirmund in the same mold. He did not belong together with Geirmund. He could not be lumped together with that man. "It's not your fault," Jane told him. He'd clung to those words, returning to them again and again, to her confidence, her complete guilelessness in speaking them. He'd believed her. He did believe her. It was not his fault. It was Geirmund's. And—

"But you must know that there is a difference. What you have described…was an accident."

"Accident." An accident. This was an absolute farce. Geirmund did not accidentally create a deadly arrow. This was Loki's pronouncement, and while Finnulfur's questions had been somewhat disturbing, they had been neutral, and had successfully disputed a couple of specific things Geirmund said. Now Odin had taken it over entirely and had apparently already decided that Geirmund should be pardoned. Because it was only an accident. Loki suffered for years under the serpent, years recovering, years rebuilding his life, and a lifetime of no one believing it was an accident except for him. Even in his own mind he hadn't always seen it as an accident, and Odin was ready to call this, the result of the last hand involved other than Hodur's ignorant one, an accident?

Loki realized he'd completely lost track of what was going on around him, and forced his attention back to Odin and Geirmund. As far as he could tell, he hadn't missed much. Geirmund was crying. Not wailing or sobbing, but clearly crying, head bowed and cheeks glistening. The criminal looked like he'd be covering his face if his hands could reach that far. Loki looked to Odin, wondered if the All-Father would now extend understanding words of comfort in sympathy for poor Geirmund's anguish.

"Yes…it was an accident. I didn't mean for it to happen. I'm so sorry. I'm not a murderer. I was horrified. I…I'm sorry."

Geirmund sniffed, face reflecting misery and guilt along with what Loki was sure was relief. Someone had understood him. Someone had tossed him a rope, enabling him to pull himself out of the pit he'd been cast down into, a pit his great honor could not allow him to try to pull himself out of on his own. How very kind of Odin. All-Father indeed. Everything one could want in a father. It was theater, and one in which Loki had been reduced from director to audience member. Audience member at a nightmarishly revolting performance, chained to his seat with bonds of his own making.

"I understand."

Loki gave a cold, tight smile. Odin, speaking in a tone which while official was not unkind, was apparently divining his thoughts.

"Since it was an accident, why didn't you come forward immediately, as soon as it happened?"

The question was unexpected and stilled Loki's spiraling thoughts. It clearly caught Geirmund off guard, too, for the man snapped out of his miniature collapse to again pry out distant memories. This one didn't take long.

"I was afraid."

Loki's eyes jumped from Geirmund to Odin, just as Odin's eye also found him. Whatever was there, whatever Odin was thinking, Loki couldn't say for sure, but it felt like judgement and condemnation and shame. Loki broke contact first, then ground his teeth in frustration with himself. Geirmund was not the same as him…was he? "I was terrified!" He had screamed those words at Odin earlier today. Were they the same? If they were, then how was it not just as much his fault as Geirmund's?

"So was Loki. It was out of fear that he didn't come forward about the arrow. Out of fear that he lied at first. Fear, and youth."

The rage that had burned so brightly before had faded to embers. Loki's eyes drifted closed for a moment. When he opened them again, everyone was looking at him. Why not? If he was in the same boat with Geirmund, he may as well have another trial himself. When this was over, however it finally ended, he was never setting foot on Asgard again.

"What about later, though?" Odin continued. "Why didn't you come forward when you returned to Asgard? Emotions had cooled. You were a little older, a little wiser. Yours was not a tale of cold-blooded murder, but of a simple accident. Loki had argued with Baldur. You never had. Why did you not correct the record?"

An entirely inappropriate giddy smile came to Loki's face. No, I'm not to bear the same blame. I'm to bear more. It didn't matter. He had always borne that blame. So if, after an infinitesimally brief period of "innocence" – during which he was suspected of having coerced Geirmund's confession – he was again considered guilty, well, it really was of no consequence at all, was it?

"It was cowardice, Your Majesty," Geirmund said, with rather a lot of confidence for an Aesir confessing to cowardice, Loki thought. "I cannot call it anything else. I justified it to myself at the time. I told myself that confessing would not change what Prince Loki had already endured. That I was…deeply contrite. That I had sworn to never again cause harm to another person. That the crime had been punished, and all of Asgard seemed to have put it behind them. That punishing me would also change nothing. That I would…that I would do whatever I could to make up for my mistake. Serve the throne quietly, to the absolute best of my ability, in whatever way I could be of use, no matter how insignificant the role. I told myself…no one was asking. If someone asked, I wouldn't lie. I would confess. I always had the sense that I was living on borrowed time. I—"

"Stolen time," Loki cut in before Geirmund could continue. It sounded familiar anyway; Geirmund had already said much the same thing twenty-four hours ago. The difference in context, however, was as night and day. How many here had hardened their hearts to Geirmund, only to have them soften again now, with Odin's words of comfort and understanding, Geirmund's groveling words of obsequious remorse and self-flagellation as he grabbed Odin's rope and climbed. Probably no one else realized he was doing it. Geirmund himself might not even realize he was doing it. Loki saw it as clearly as if the rope was a physical thing. "Do you have many more questions, All-Father?" The question came out icily – far too icily for addressing the supposedly former king who still held Gungnir, in his throne room, steps from his throne – before Loki could consider whether it was wise or not.

"Only a few," Odin said, granting Loki a respectful nod before resuming. "Geirmund, this more complete version of what you experienced that day, why you behaved as you did, what intentions you had, bears much in common with the truth of what my son Loki experienced that day."

Loki only barely held himself back from a dramatic – and obnoxious – sigh. I believe you have already made that perfectly clear, All-Father, but thank you for ensuring that even the dullest of dullards in the crowd have now grasped it. He couldn't help but steal a glance at Thor. Asgard's king looked eager but confused. Well, perhaps rephrase and state it yet again, then, why don't you?

Geirmund was nodding cautiously, still looking guilty. Loki could have sent the man's head rolling right then and there, if he could have mustered sufficient vim.

"Tell me, then, what steps did you take to ensure that Baldur would merely be injured, and not killed?"

Geirmund, Loki thought, looked surprised. Taken aback. Loki himself was stunned. Odin's voice had turned brittle, right along with his wan smile. He glanced past Odin to Thor, and found barely restrained energy, and something akin to victory, all traces of confusion gone. Thor could not possibly have known where this was going, though. Loki still wasn't sure of it himself. But he did know that the forward progress of that rope had lurched to a halt.

"What steps?" Odin repeated.

"None," Geirmund said, eyes downcast, face largely blank.

"No precautionary steps at all? You made a weak weapon deadly, you knew it would be aimed at another person, a Prince of Asgard no less, and you did nothing at all to make certain your actions wouldn't result in his death?"

Geirmund sighed, deeply, his face and body seeming to almost melt with it. "I did not."

"You've said several times that you aren't sure exactly what you were thinking then. That's understandable. It was centuries ago. A frightening, traumatic event, embroiled in intense emotions. Memories under such circumstances" – Odin faltered and again briefly found Loki's eyes – "they aren't always reliable." He steadied himself and continued.

"If that truth patch really worked, I would gladly consent to its use. I don't mean to defend myself. I don't mean to hide anything."

"Perhaps you don't mean to. But although you acted without deliberate intent to kill, you also acted with a shocking level of recklessness. You hated Baldur. You laid all your dissatisfactions upon his shoulders. Might not thoughts have run through your mind, thoughts so…repugnant, so vile, that you simply don't wish to remember them?"

"I…I don't…"

Geirmund might have been stammering negatives, but he wasn't denying it. He was struggling against it. Loki knew that feeling, and knew without a doubt that Geirmund recognized truth in it, truth he was struggling against because he didn't want to believe that about himself. Geirmund didn't even have being a Frost Giant to blame it on.

"You didn't want Baldur to get a scratch. That wouldn't have suited your purposes. You wanted him to feel pain, for the pain he'd caused you without even knowing you. You wanted him out of the way. You didn't think about the consequences of your actions because they didn't concern you."

"I don't know. I don't…yes," he said, an arm jerking upward in the chains once, twice, a third time, as though to cover his face. "Yes. You're right. I'm sorry. You're right. I didn't want…I wanted him to suffer. I didn't think about—"

"I think I've heard enough," Loki cut in. "Any more questions, All-Father?" His tone was still prickly – he could not quite manage anything else – but he understood now that he'd misread Odin's intent in that line of questioning. Though he was still reeling too much, still too roiled by his own emotional reactions to look back on it and see it all clearly, he knew Odin hadn't tossed that rope down to help Geirmund climb out of the pit with it – he'd tossed it down and let Geirmund hang himself with it.

"None," Odin said, all his attention on Loki now.

"In that case…." In that case, what? How was he supposed to proceed as though none of this had happened? He couldn't. He'd changed his mind so many times about the punishment he planned to impose that it took him a minute even to remember the last thing he'd decided on. Now…he had to think about it again. About everything he'd just heard. About what really happened that day, and why. Had he not really thought about it before? He'd thought about himself, his own actions. He'd thought about revenge, about wanting Geirmund to pay deeply and publicly, about how nothing he ordered could equal or undo what had been done to him. "Two wrongs don't make a right," Jane had said. She wasn't wrong, strictly speaking. Making that first wrong right was impossible. But…. Was there a "but"?

His head was swimming. He had to think. And he couldn't do it standing up here, everyone watching him expectantly, Geirmund's body swinging right in front of him hopeless, lifeless, on the rope Odin had fed him. He hated it. It made him look weak. This whole process had made him look weak. But he was done racing headfirst into things he hadn't thought through. He would take the time he needed. It wasn't weak. It was him wresting back control.

"In that case we will be taking a break, while I consider these additional confessions. Clear the throne room. You will be summoned when we resume."

At some point the murmuring of the audience had fallen silent, and even now no words were exchanged, only looks, as they made their way out. Loki watched them as they disappeared through the columns at the entrance, all except for Geirmund and the two guards with him, who veered off from the rest toward a holding area where prisoners being brought before the throne were kept.

He'd caught Jane's eye before she could go, signaling her with a small motion of his head to stay; luckily she understood, and was approaching him now.

"Do you want us to go as well?" Frigga asked.

Loki looked her way for the first time in a while, and for a second the cacophony in his head ceased. She looked haggard. Tired. Old. "Whatever you wish, Mother," he said quietly, scrutinizing her with concern.

Without another word she turned toward the throne, and as soon as she reached the gold steps that led to it, she sat. Hard. Hard enough that Loki instinctively started toward her. As her forehead touched her knees, though, her hand briefly went up, enough to hold Loki back. His eyes caught Thor's and found Thor similarly halted, while Odin took up position beside her and draped a hand over her shoulder.

You don't have to stay for this, he wanted to tell her, almost did tell her. But she knew she didn't. And she'd already decided she would. Whatever she was feeling was hers to feel.

"I'm sorry, my prince," Finnulfur said, the only one other than Jane and the royal family who'd remained. "My queen. Your Majesties. If my questions suggested…sympathy with Geirmund, I assure you it was not the case. I apologize if I overstepped my role. I know it wasn't what you expected to hear from him."

"What?" Loki asked with a shrug of studied indifference. "That what he did, too, was merely an accident?"

Jane frowned at him, but Odin spoke before she could.

"Not all accidents are equal. I doubt we'll ever know if what he did was really an accident. I doubt even he knows for certain."

"Loki didn't cause any accidents," Jane shot back.

"Did you hear me say that he did?" Odin snapped.

"There's no need to speak that way to Jane, Father."

Restrained though it may have been, Loki was glad Thor had said something, because the audience was gone, and along with it any need Loki felt to be restrained toward Odin. Standing up for Jane in front of Thor, however, came with its own set of complications. He would do it if need be, but better for everyone, especially himself, if he didn't need to.

"I was not referring to any accident on Loki's part."

"You didn't overstep, Finnulfur," Loki said, ignoring Odin and his conspicuous lack of apology; Odin hadn't even deigned to look at Jane. "You did exactly what I gave you leave to do. You got to the truth." He'd started off more focused on redirecting everyone's attention, but by the time he'd finished, he knew he meant what he'd said. He knew truth was important, even if it was indeed not the truth he'd expected or wanted to hear, even if it complicated things. Enough lies and half-truths surrounded Baldur's death already. Enough injustice. Loki grit his teeth and looked away with a frustrated snarl.

"I think we do know it wasn't an accident on Geirmund's part," Thor said. "Father got him to admit it."

Loki shook his head. Thor was capable of standing up to Odin for all of about sixty seconds, apparently. "You manipulated him," he said, turning to Odin with one corner of his mouth pulled upward. "It was impressive. He would have agreed with anything you said by the end."

"I led him down a path he was only too happy to follow. Manipulation, if you wish, yes. But distortion? Do you believe anything he said was untrue?"

"I think you're right. I think we'll never know."

"Would you rather I have said nothing? Did you look at the others' faces? They thought he killed Baldur on purpose, and then they found out he didn't. And then they thought, why is this good and honorable man in chains, when Loki, who did no different, stands in judgement over him!"

Loki held himself completely still. Frigga looked up, not at Odin's steady increase in volume, but at the clanging of Gungnir on the throne room floor that immediately followed his words. Thor extended a hand when Odin afterward leaned heavily on his staff, slowly withdrawing it when he saw that Odin remained steady. Jane was watching everything with widened, hyper-alert eyes, but he saw no trace of fear in her. He allowed himself a heartbeat or two to gaze at her with pride before returning his attention to what Odin had said. Had he looked at the others' faces? Not really. He didn't need to see their faces to know what they were thinking. Even as part of him raged against Geirmund and longed to end the man's life then and there, another part of him was thinking exactly what Odin ascribed to everyone else in the room.

"If they were thinking that," Jane said, slowly, pausing until Loki's eyes met hers, "then they were wrong."

Loki felt a shiver – closer to a shudder – go through him. Does she know me that well? That she can see right through me? Right inside me?

"It needed to be said," Odin huffed.

Loki was still staring at Jane.

"I think we could all use a drink," Thor said.

Loki finally dragged his eyes away from Jane. "I hardly think mead is going to do anyone any good right now," he said as a servant poked his head out from behind the orange sheers.

"I agree. I was thinking coffee."

Perplexed, Loki let every bit of his incredulity show on his face. "Don't tell me you found time during a war that threatened Asgard's total destruction to plant coffee beans."

"Of course not. When I brought Tony here to help us figure out what Gullveig was doing in New York, he brought me some coffee in a…he brought some coffee. And I told him that I wished all Asgardians could try it. I think every shipment that followed included coffee." Thor faltered for a moment; it was Geirmund who'd told him about that. As an unfamiliar exotic product at a time when basic staples were in great demand, the coffee had been left unused, but Thor had so appreciated the kindness in the thought that he'd instructed Geirmund not to tell Tony his gift had not been opened. "We haven't had a chance to use it yet. What do you say? A round of coffee for everyone?"

"Sure," Jane said.

Finnulfur gave a polite nod.

"Something warm sounds nice," Frigga said.

Her smile was clearly forced, and disappeared as soon as Thor turned Loki's way, past Odin, who gave no response. "Why not," Loki said with a sigh.

"Coffee for six, and bring sugar and cream," Thor said; the servant scurried away and the throne room fell into awkward silence.

"It needed to be said."

Loki had been about to excuse himself, but now looked at Odin expectantly. The old man's single eye was vacant, and it took a while for him to continue.

"It was offensive."

"What was?" Frigga said, rousing somewhat.

"That man's behavior. He wanted to find honor even in his death."

No one said anything.

Odin tilted Gungnir, leaned on Frigga who reached up to grasp his arm, and sat down on the stairs beside her.

Loki thought perhaps Odin would further explain himself, but the old man stared into the distance and showed no sign of intending to speak.

/

I've been without internet for several days now, uploading this at a cafe, then racing home to go to bed. I did want to drop in a quick thanks to guest reviewers, I got in the habit for quite a while of responding here to your comments, and then more recently because time became more scarce (often especially time online, like now), I got out of the habit. But believe me, I appreciate every review, and to all the kind things you've said, thank you so much. I'm catching up again now and maybe I'll get back into that habit again.

Previews for 209: Loki's got some more thinking to do. (If Loki never had any thinking to do, this story would be about 75% or so shorter.) Luckily, he really isn't alone.

Excerpt (it was unexpectedly hard to choose, this is Thor and Jane talking):

"I don't think he should be alone," Jane said after an awkward moment. "You should go to him."

"I'm sorry you've been dragged into all this. But you're his friend. And the only one of us who never doubted him in this. It should be you."

Jane shook her head. "It's a family matter. I never even knew Baldur."

"Your presence calms him. Mine…often has the opposite effect."