Beneath
Chapter One Hundred Forty-Five – Tapestry
"Is Thor back off to Asgard now that he has his dad's decision?" Loki asked once Odin reappeared. He'd been thinking about that since his mother took her leave – Thor's reappearance, his insistent need to see Odin about some matter, Odin's surprising reluctance to immediately abandon the false son for the real one. He frowned at his own thoughts; it wasn't as though he wanted Odin to stay, to continue their pleasant little chat.
"Thor is still here," Odin said, returning to the now-familiar place beside the little bed, where Loki was now sitting up. "You're feeling better?"
"I feel splendid. What did he want?" Loki let his eyes wander aimlessly over the ceiling, around the jamesway, as though the question didn't matter. It did. The more he'd thought about Thor's return, the the stronger his misgivings about it grew, that the decision may concern him.
"Gullveig has declared an official reprieve in the war. Twenty-four hours."
"To what end?" Loki asked suspiciously. Is Asgard on the verge of surrender? Time to make arrangements to hand over the bounty?
"He said it was to consider capitulation."
Loki narrowed his eyes. "Capitulation," he said, drawing the word out with a sneer, "could be considered at any time. A reprieve surely benefits Asgard more than the other realms."
"How much do you know about the war?" Odin asked, watching Loki carefully. Jolgeir had made a sound case that Loki hadn't instigated the war, but it had never been clear in what other ways he might have become involved.
"Little," Loki said after a brief staring context. "Enough. A reprieve makes no sense."
Odin kept silent a moment longer, wondering where Loki's true feelings – and loyalties – lay. The fact that he was engaging on this subject, and no longer with the insults he'd begun with, suggested concern for Asgard. But on the other hand, no matter his loyalties, he lived in these Nine Realms and the outcome of this war affected him; Frigga had told him that Loki knew of the other realms' demands. "He made reference to Midgard."
Loki felt his stomach clench as those words sank in. "Frigga came here and spoke to the Midgardians. He thinks you mean to forge an alliance. He wants time to consider it, what it means. How he should respond."
"Bragi agrees. As do I. It was a risk, what your mother did. A risk she took for your sake."
"For me? What do I-" He gave a nod. "Gullveig wanted me captured. Provided images to the Midgardian public."
"And cast Asgard as an unprovoked aggressor. She wanted to prevent Midgard from joining the alliance against us. And she wanted to protect you."
He had spared little thought for what his mother might have said while on Midgard, less out of lack of interest and more out of lack of time. Now he was curious. Jane said she had given public remarks of some sort, sometime earlier today. It was an unsettling thought. "Did he threaten Midgard?"
"Not directly. The reference was in the guise of an insult, suggesting we were seeking Midgard's aid."
A veiled threat, then, Loki thought with a frown.
"You care about the people of Midgard."
He looked up at Odin sharply, watched him as he pulled the chair closer and sat down. "I do not know the people of Midgard. There are over seven billion of them."
"Do you wish to rule them?"
Loki drew in a slow, deep breath. Saying yes – to spite Odin – would surely damn him. Saying no was his own capitulation. "I do not wish for Gullveig to rule them," he finally said, fixing Odin with a steely gaze at the last.
"That isn't what I asked."
I know that, you fool. And you know that I do.
"Is it so difficult for you, to admit that your feelings have changed?" Odin asked, hoping his instincts were correct. His instincts were shaped by centuries upon centuries of experience and were normally quite good. With Loki however…Loki confounded his expectations like no other.
Loki felt trapped. Again. Odin was pushing and pushing and would not relent – behind his eyelids when he blinked he saw Odin leaning over him and looking down at him with revulsion – and Loki knew how to get himself out of such things but the biting responses just weren't there. This Odin wasn't leaning over him, was instead looking at him with the same carefully schooled features Loki himself had learned. Just sitting there. Still just sitting there. The last time they'd spent this much time together, just the two of them, actually facing each other, exchanging words angry or otherwise…it might go all the way back to his youth. He didn't know what to do with this Odin.
An answer, however, was required. At least if he hoped to be able to hold a glass of water again at some point in his life. "I bear them no ill will. Particularly those who dwell here, at the South Pole. Though I doubt it's mutual at this point."
Odin considered that. An odd answer. Obviously reluctant. Hardly categorical. It still did not actually answer his question. He knew from the statements provided by Thor's associates on Midgard that not even Loki's attempt to rule Midgard had been couched in terms of ill will, but in terms of ruling, of ending a futile struggle for freedom, nonsensical things that bore no logic but were certainly not rooted in anything like the fanatical hatred he'd espoused for Jotunheim. But he'd gone beyond his lack of "ill will" to express a particular affinity, perhaps, in the restrained manner of speaking Loki was using, for the mortals he'd lived with in this isolated location, one of whom called him friend, another of whom he'd tried to kill, despite his claims of no ill will. He would have to ask about that. He had a sense, though, that asking about it right now would push Loki too far, and would not get him a useful explanation. And he needed to learn about more than just one incident. He needed a better sense of Loki's general attitudes and state of mind. He needed to know if Loki could be trusted. He thought perhaps it was worth giving Frigga's approach a try, though he was beginning to suspect there was no approach that was going to result in a truly "good conversation" between him and Loki.
"It occurs to me that my words here have been many and yours relatively few. I would like to hear what you have to say." Odin steeled himself for what might come, for his temper not to get the better of him.
"I have nothing to say to you."
"Really? This is a unique opportunity, Loki. I am here. You have my undivided attention. Say what you will. Tell me what you're thinking. Ask me questions. Anything you like. We have a twenty-four-hour reprieve, what's left of it. The time is yours."
They sat in silence, but it didn't last long. "You say I speak pretty words that are nonsense. I say you speak pretty words that are nonsense."
"I see," Odin said when Loki offered no explanation. "Would you be more specific? Or do you mean to say I have never spoken anything other than nonsense?"
"I had in mind in particular your eloquent assertions of love and family while I look like this. Your claims that you are not trying to control me, while my fate rests in your hands alone."
"How you look has no effect on my feelings. And your fate has never been in my hands alone. Even as an infant you influenced your own fate."
"Allow me to clarify," Loki said after taking a moment to swallow his anger. "Do you intend to leave me like this permanently? And if not, what must I do to look myself again? To be able to use magic again?"
Odin allowed a steadying breath, while he quickly thought through his possible answers. The question was not a surprising one, except perhaps in its directness, but it was still a problematic one. "What do you want, Loki?"
You were either in the Sleep far too long, or not nearly long enough. He spoke slowly and enunciated carefully, as though for someone of severely limited linguistic ability and intelligence. "I want to look as I did before this. I want to be able to use magic."
"I know that's what you want in this moment. You had those things before, and to what end? What do you want Loki? Out of life. For your future.
"This isn't about what I want. It's never been about what I want. It's about what you want. So instead I ask you, what do you want, All-Father?"
"Do you really wish to know? Or do you speak only for the sound of your own recalcitrant voice?"
Loki gave a sharp exhale and looked away.
"I want a realm at peace, amid Nine Realms at peace. I want a strong Asgard prepared to defend itself and the other realms from any threats beyond the Nine, and allies within the Nine to stand with us as needed. I want a prosperous and just Asgard that provides for-"
"You know perfectly well that is not what I meant," Loki said, voiced raised.
"Since I am obviously giving an incorrect answer, why don't you tell me what the correct one is, Loki? What do I want?"
"You want my fealty. You want me brought in line. Just like Thor."
"I thought you said you believed I did not see you as just like Thor. You wish to have things both ways, don't you? Which is it? Are you just like Thor, Thor's brother and my son, or are you nothing like Thor, a monster bound to his fate, the son of my most hated enemy, as you described it? No, I am not here for your fealty. You have taken oaths of loyalty, and I would certainly hope that you would honor them. But-"
"You may want to inquire with Finnulfur about that. I swore those oaths under false pretenses, with the name Loki Odinson. I assume they were all invalid."
"Your name is Loki Odinson. Do you wish it to be? Or do you wish it not to be? You called yourself Loki Laufeyson before you were sent here. You wish to take his name? The name of the man you murdered to prove yourself worthy of the name Odinson?"
"Don't flatter yourself. We were at war," Loki snarled.
"You must truly think me a fool if you think I will believe that you killed Laufey because we were at war. You told Thor why you did it, right after it happened. So which is it, Loki? Do you reject us, or have we rejected you? Have you declared yourself unworthy, or have we? Do you seek my approval, or do you go out of your way to provoke my disapproval? Which is it? What do you want?"
"I am not that person anymore," Loki said, voice tight, hands trembling in anger at his sides, remembering Odin's outstretched hand, open over the stone steps, how he'd longed to take it, to find in it reassurance and love and belonging and so much more, how he'd needed that but the hand he took, just for a moment, was limp and offered him nothing but bittersweet memories of a life full of lies. I need nothing from you now. Not your approval. Not your disapproval.
"Which person? The one who will do anything to prove his worthiness, or the one who wallows pridefully in his unworthiness?"
"What does it matter?! It never mattered! I wanted your respect!" Loki exploded, leaning forward, spine stiff, breathing heavily. "And I was the fool, to think that I would ever have it." He forced his posture to relax again, fought to get his breathing under control. He hadn't meant to say that. But what was done, was done. "So let us please finally bring this farce to an end."
"You have long had my respect," Odin said slowly, again watching Loki's reactions very carefully. It reminded him of that day in the Weapons Vault, a maelstrom of emotions building, erupting, and shifting too quickly for Odin to even attempt to keep up with, in the condition he'd been in then. "Your actions of late, however, have not merited respect."
"I have long had your respect, have I?" Loki repeated, his tone making it clear what he thought of those words.
"You have. You worked hard. You were never lazy. You acted with decorum in public. You were bright. Clever. You understood diplomacy and sought to better your-"
"Do you remember, when we all came back from Jotunheim, and you were berating Thor, do you remember what I told you?"
That gave Odin pause. He remembered Thor's unrepentant, arrogant attitude, his complete lack of recognition that he'd done anything wrong, his insults asserting that it was in fact Odin who'd erred. He remembered his own disappointment and anger. He couldn't remember Loki doing anything other than following along, standing there, probably terrified he was about to follow Thor into banishment as the silent mastermind of their little journey. At the time, he hadn't been concerned about Loki; the word of where they'd gone, the request for Odin to intervene, had come from Loki himself, and Odin had first assumed Loki had done no more than reluctantly follow Thor after failing to talk him out of his foolhardy idea. "I don't believe you told me anything."
"You're right," Loki said with a crisp nod. "I never told you anything. Because you wouldn't let me. Thor told you it was I who suggested he defy you and demand answers of the Frost Giants? I did. I knew he was too impetuous and hot-headed for the throne. I saw it more than you did. Did you expect his advisors to be his nursemaids, too? It took me perhaps two dozen words for him to seize on the idea and convince his friends to go, and drag me into it, too. But the mere intent to do it, that would have been enough. Do you think I planned all of that? I'm known for my mischief, but even I cannot see that many moves ahead. I never expected Thor to be banished, or you to fall into the Odinsleep, or me to be given the throne. I never even meant for us to reach Jotunheim! Do you think I wanted to go there? I knew how furious Thor was, and I knew how little control he had of his temper. I wasn't stupid enough to start a war, Father, that was him. I tried everything I could think to delay the confrontation. And Heimdall…honestly, I don't know why you even bother having a Gatekeeper. He steps aside whenever the fancy strikes him, regardless of his king's orders."
"Heimdall is no line Einherjar. He has discretion in his orders," Odin said calmly. None of this was terribly surprising. It was Loki again trying to blame everyone but himself for his misdeeds.
"Of course he does. Particularly when those orders come from me, hm? No matter. When we returned, when I saw how angry you were with Thor, that things were going much farther than I ever intended, I tried to explain. I was going to tell you that he might have gotten the idea from me, that it wasn't entirely his fault. And you growled at me! You couldn't even be bothered to form any actual words to tell me you had not one ounce of interest in anything I could possibly have to say, not when you were talking to him."
He vaguely remembered it. His decision had already been made, and he'd had no desire to listen to whatever artful tales Loki might weave to try to help Thor evade the consequences of what Odin had then believed to be Thor's independent actions. "It wasn't because I didn't respect you. I thought that you were innocent in that incident, that your loyalty to Thor as your brother and your friend had sent you with him, so I could not fault you for what appeared to be very poor judgement. I thought that you would have tried to salvage the situation and Thor had overridden you. I assumed that your loyalty to Thor also was leading you to try to make false excuses for his inexcusable behavior."
"You assumed many things," Loki said, his own voice now as calm and unemotional as Odin's. "But you listened to him."
Odin thought back. It might not have made a difference in the events that followed. No matter who the original idea had come from, Thor needed to learn a lesson he could not learn on Asgard. Had Loki hinted that it had come from him, Odin perhaps would have paused to consider why, perhaps would have had a conversation with Loki that would have negated the need for the one he was attempting now. Thor said what was on his mind; Loki spoke purposefully, often with the true purpose hidden. It might not have made a difference…but it might have. There was no way to know. More importantly, he thought, to Loki's point: it really didn't matter whether it would have made a difference or not. "You're right," he finally said, physically unmoved, eye still fixed on Loki. "I should have listened to you." Did I respect you less than I should have? Odin didn't think that was true, but then respect was not measured as objectively as grain.
The following silence quickly grew uncomfortable for Loki. "Well, perhaps next time," he said flippantly, to fill it. There would be no next time.
"So you want respect," Odin said after another minute had passed.
"I wanted respect," Loki answered, regretting that those words had ever come out. "I've moved on."
"Everyone wants respect, I believe. What else do you want?"
Loki smiled, laughed quietly. "Shall I make you a list? Fine. I want my throne back."
"You know I can't do that. And Asgard's throne is much changed. It is now the most uncomfortable seat in the Nine Realms. What else?"
"You know what I want! I want my freedom. I want my life back. I don't want to look like this anymore. I want this to be the lie." He swallowed roughly, feeling raw with how much of himself he'd revealed, despite how much he was still desperately holding back.
Odin took a moment, then pushed back the chair and stood.
Loki held himself very still and watched, nervous that Odin may have just come to a decision and it was unlikely to be anything Loki wanted to hear. He had a sudden flashback of watching in astonishment as Thor so clearly prepared his own funeral, entirely ignorant in his anger that he was provoking Odin so severely that he left him with no option but to take severe action against him. He wondered if, to an observer, this entire conversation looked precisely the same as that one.
"I wish, for your sake, that it was. It's a heavy burden to bear, and much like that of the throne, only he who actually bears it can take its true measure. In time, I hope that its weight will lessen. You asked what I wanted in coming here, what I needed from you. I do want your loyalty, Loki, and I, too, desire respect. But coerced loyalty lasts only as long as it's enforced, and coerced respect is a fallacy of logic. To give you the things you most desire in this moment, I need only be convinced that your mind is calmed, that you are no more a senseless danger to yourself or to those around you. And although you've done your best not to convince me, I'm willing to take a chance that there has been at least some change in you here. To give you more than that, however…more will be required. If you give me your oath that you will remain here to speak with me as long as I ask it, then I will grant what you have asked for."
Loki examined every word of the offer for evidence of trickery, and could only find one possibility – that Odin would keep him here forever, asking to speak with him until he died of old age. He couldn't imagine that Odin found that possibility any more appealing than he did, though, and rejected it as highly unlikely. And after enduring it for this long, Loki could certainly put up with Odin's presence a while longer. "You have my oath. I swear to you that I will remain here to speak with you…as long as you ask it, if you return my ability to use magic and my form and physical nature as it has been for most of my life."
"Very well," Odin said, crossing to the opposite wall and retrieving Gungnir.
Loki watched his back warily as he walked away, nervous that he had given an oath, but Odin had not, that perhaps there was some game or deception in this that he'd failed to detect. Odin returned to the bed, though, and held out Gungnir.
"Take it. Just for a moment."
Loki hesitated, but not for long. In his hand, he felt nothing more than warm metal that was rapidly cooling. Not even the tiniest thrum of magic. He could no longer command Gungnir, that much was no surprise, but to feel nothing from such a powerfully enchanted object, it was an unsettling reminder of how fully he'd been cut off from magic. When he looked up from the useless metal staff, he saw Odin was removing the bracer from his left arm. Like he was settling in. Getting comfortable. The timing, he thought with a renewed tide of anger. Odin had made no oath, nor had he specified when he would act on his end of the bargain, and Loki's oath had not specified that this "talking" had to occur after Odin did his part. "I'll say nothing further while I look like this," he stated sharply.
"Don't rush an old man, Loki," Odin said tiredly. Every word is its own battle, he thought as he set the released bracer on the bed near Loki's legs. They were both to blame for it, he supposed. Whoever had raised his sword first, the other felt compelled to raise his to meet it. He thought back on what Loki had said – snarled – about those few minutes after he'd brought his sons and their friends back from Jotunheim. He was right. I didn't allow him to speak. He could have spoken anyway, but he was obedient then. Deferential. He missed that boy, he thought, not for the first time. But that, perhaps, was never who Loki really was. Loki did have a mind of his own, and better that he use it. Better than he use it in Asgard's service, though, and not like this.
Loki watched as Odin pulled off the protective layer of thick fabric underneath his bracer, unfastened his cuff, and rolled up his sleeve. It was then that Loki glimpsed it: a scar, on the underside of Odin's left wrist. "What is that?" he asked darkly.
"A mark of control, according to you. And…slavery?"
Loki grit his teeth, face distorting in a fury that threatened to overwhelm him, though he wasn't even sure why it angered him so. "Why? Have you been tempted to harm any mortals lately?"
"No. But this has allowed me to know when it was time to go to you. And now it will allow me to reverse the changes caused by your inappropriate use of magic." He took the staff from Loki's hand and wrapped his right hand around it. "Place your mark against mine."
Loki started to hold out his hand, but then jerked it away before their wrists met. "The problem is not there."
Odin waited, hand still outstretched, wrist with a scar identical to Loki's still exposed one. It was an encouraging response. Perhaps it was merely a question of priorities, but Loki did not seem particularly concerned about the restriction and punishment for harming others. "Evidence suggests in fact that the problem is in both places. But they are both controlled from here."
Loki narrowed his eyes suspiciously, but understanding came quickly. "You tied both to your wrist, because you didn't want to walk around on a permanently wounded foot."
"No, I didn't. Are you ready now? Hold on tightly," he said as Loki finally held his wrist against Odin's. Loki folded his long fingers around, gripping, and Odin breathed deeply through the pain of it, until the freezing sank deeply enough to end the pain. The thrum of power rushing through Gungnir grew to a crescendo only he could hear.
Loki waited anxiously, unable to set aside the suspicion that this was all some kind of ruse, imagining Odin looming over him as he slept, trying to force him into a Frost Giant's skin. It had caused him pain he didn't remember, enough that Odin had backed off, torturing a child apparently too much for him. Now it would be the reverse, and he was no longer a child. He felt nothing from whatever supposed process was taking place, but tried to prepare himself for the pain of what Niskit had done. He also felt no pity over the steam rising up from where he held onto Odin's wrist, the blackening of the flesh beginning to peak out around his hand. Less than a minute later, though, a tingling began in his fingertips; almost as soon as he felt that he felt it all over his body, an uncomfortable severe itch that no scratching would alleviate, but in another few seconds that ceased.
"It's done."
Loki let go of Odin's hand immediately; his stomach gave a twist when he saw a few small flecks of burnt skin came away with his hand. An instinct to apologize bubbled up, but he cut it off before it could gain voice. Odin could have told him to let go. He looked up at Odin, who was looking down at him – "He was sitting in the dark crying" – and quickly averted his eyes. He looked down at his wrist instead. In an instant his eyes were back on Oidn's. "If this is a trick, it's a poorly executed one. The scar is still there."
"So it is," Odin said, returning Gungnir to its awkward spot against the curved opposite wall. He pulled his sleeve down and started working on getting the rest of his attire back in order; it didn't bother him, the burn from Loki's prolonged touch leaving the area numb. "The scar itself isn't magic; it's merely a scar. Eir will be able to remove it, in time."
In time, Loki thought, remembering how he'd similarly tried to "reassure" Thor that in time – a long time, he'd assumed and certainly intended then – he would indeed have his "day of triumph." He wondered how Odin meant it. A scar left untreated would not be healed instantly – perhaps he only meant that. But perhaps he meant it would be a long time before he saw Eir again. Or a long time before he was able to see her consistently enough to have the scar fully removed. For now, though…now he could hide it if he wished, with a simple illusion. He would do it as soon as Odin changed him back. Which Odin was making no obvious move to do.
"I'm waiting," Loki said impatiently.
"For what?"
"For you to put the other magic back in place. What do you think?"
"I cannot do that. You're no longer locked into one form. You can change at will."
"How?" Loki asked, frustrated. Without waiting for another likely useless answer, though, he waved his right hand over his left and watched as the left turned pale, the darker lines disappeared, the nails thinned and lightened. "This isn't the same. It's nothing more than an illusion, and I can tell that it's magic. You have to make it what it was before."
"It can never be exactly what it was before. You were an infant with strong instinctive magic. Things have changed. You have changed. Concentrate on it. These are muscles you haven't truly flexed since infancy. Had you not become so proficient with magic you might be unable to do it. But I'm confident you can. Don't think about changing surface appearance; it's more fundamental than that. Don't start from the outside. Change from the inside out. Inhabit the form you wish to take. It's a form you know well."
Loki took a moment to quiet his anger at Odin's deception. "I don't think it will be like before," his mother had said. He supposed it hadn't sunk in. She, it seemed, knew something of what Odin had done to him, and had at least suspected that it could not be replicated now. Assuming Odin was telling the truth, then – and in practice it didn't really matter whether he was or not – it was up to him. The body he wore now, the one he was born with, was alien to him; it should be easy, he thought, to shed it in favor of the one he was indeed much more familiar with. From the inside out… Not the literal mapping of every cell, every muscle, every capillary, but…something more fundamental, as Odin had said. How he felt in his Aesir body. The home it had been to him all these years. The time and effort he'd put into honing it, strengthening it. The times he'd overtaxed it, the times he'd neglected and harmed it. He knew that body; that body was him.
He closed his eyes, and instead of trying to make himself look like the dark-haired Aesir he'd always believed himself to be, he focused on being that person. A chill passed over him; his eyes opened. He was himself again. The relief was immense, washing over him but quickly fading. He looked himself again, that was a vast improvement, but he was still trapped here, his future uncertain. And he was cold, sitting with his arms and chest completely bare.
His shirt was gone – he had no idea where it was now – so he pulled up the bloodied bib of his overalls and got his arms back into them – that would at least give his chest some more warmth.
"What now?" he asked, once he was situated.
"Now…I suppose we try to talk some more," Odin said, sitting down again.
"Do try to contain your enthusiasm," Loki said drily. It was Odin who wanted this continued talking, yet he looked like he was about to go before the ax. His thumb twitched, and behind Odin's back an illusion of himself appeared, just for an instant, before Loki let it fade away. He felt stronger already, the blood loss a minor inconvenience now that he was himself again. The poor illusions he'd made of Alfheim for Jane flashed before his mind's eye, and for a moment he wanted nothing more than for Odin, Thor, and even his mother to go back to Asgard and the station to be undamaged and to show Jane what he could really do with illusions when he set his mind to it.
"You make it difficult," Odin said, ignoring whatever little test Loki had just conducted. The boy did not appear to be concerned by its results.
"I make it difficult."
"We both make it difficult," Odin conceded easily, with a sigh. Loki made it more difficult, but arguing that point would be counterproductive. "You stabbed someone here, Loki. You used magic in ways you shouldn't have. Ways you surely knew you shouldn't have."
"You are over-confident."
"Which instances were you uncertain about?"
He hadn't kept a list, of course, but the incident that first came to mind, that had rankled him the most, was when he'd made himself invisible as part of his plan to try to prevent Baldur's death at his own hand. He had no intention of mentioning that, however. "It doesn't matter now."
"It does, in fact, but we can discuss it further later if you prefer. I need to know that I can trust you, Loki."
"I could say the same of you."
Odin's eye drifted closed for a moment. Of all the insults and vitriol Loki had flung his way, this taunt he knew was earned. "Full trust will be difficult for both of us. You know what I mean though. I have already told you. You've lived among mortals longer than I thought you would last. Your mother tells me they say you haven't harmed them, that you've even been friendly with them. But I still need to know your intentions. Do you wish to come home?" Odin waited for a response, but Loki merely continued staring at him with slightly narrowed eyes, and Odin could almost see the gears spinning in his head, though he had no idea in what direction they spun. "Do you wish to rule Midgard? Will you seek to rule some other world by force? Do you want to destroy Asgard, to see it defeated? Do you want to defend Asgard, to see it victorious? Do you want to harm Thor, or me, or anyone else who has not first raised a hand against you? Or do you simply want to continue on this path of self-destruction until you fall yet again? You agreed you would speak to me, Loki – I expect answers."
Loki could tell Odin was carefully assessing his reactions, and he worked to ensure he gave none. For some of those questions, he didn't even know the answers. For some, he had answers he didn't want Odin taking any "credit" for. Outside of a few particularly dark moments, he'd never wanted to see Asgard destroyed, certainly not conquered by another realm, and Odin had nothing to do with that.
But to fall again…no. He didn't want that. He hadn't entirely realized it before – wasn't sure in fact when it had become true – but he didn't want to fall. Not because he let go, and not because someone else tossed him over the edge. He wanted not only to survive, but to somehow carve out for himself a new life, and not just the temporary one he'd spent here in hiding. He wanted to live. Only Jane had earned the right to that degree of honesty, however.
When Loki finally responded, it was without anger. It was simply factual. "You had a chance to ask me what I wanted a long time ago. You ceded it. You've ceded the right." He paused, allowing his words to sink in. "I agreed I would speak with you. I did not agree to submit to an interrogation."
"I did not ask then. You were an infant."
"I was an infant for a very, very, short while."
Odin gave a single nod. "And then you were a child. And then, yes, decades and centuries passed, and in keeping the truth from you, I never asked you what you wanted. I suppose I have not often asked you what you wanted in general. I suppose I assumed that if you wanted something, you would say so. Now I am asking."
"For all you insist I am your son and you are my father, you ask me this from a throne of judgement."
"I am your father, but I am first the All-Father, the first protector of Asgard and each of the other realms…even when I am forced to make war against them," he said with a slight smile. "I must ask from a throne, yes. I wish that circumstances were different, but I won't insult you by pretending that's not true. I need to know where you stand. And if you are too stubborn to answer…then we are at an impasse, which is not helpful to either of us."
Perhaps we are, Loki thought. He knew he could simply give Odin the answers he wanted. Many of them would even be true. It was the path of least resistance. But he was stubborn, and he couldn't bring himself to give in. Especially not when there was no guarantee of what would follow. "That's wonderful, Loki, I'm glad you wish no one any harm," Loki could hear him saying. "Now it's time we're off to deliver you to Jotunheim. Be a good boy and go willingly, my son. I am first the All-Father." "You said I could ask you anything," Loki suddenly said.
"Yes," Odin said warily.
"Why did you take me?"
He hid his disappointment. "I have already told you that. There's nothing more to tell."
"You've told me hardly anything. You took me, you kept me, you made me this. I want to know why. The whole story, not the two-sentence version."
"All right," Odin said, settling back. He'd been a story-teller once, a good one, when he'd been a brash young prince, very much like Thor. And when his sons were very young, for a time he'd become a story-teller again, the tales carefully edited for more innocent ears. Centuries had passed since then, and as king he let others do the story-telling. He supposed he could do it again, though, and this time without either the editing for children, or the embellishing for a merry-making audience.
"We were years into a war," he began. "You cannot imagine what such a thing is until you have experienced it. We-"
"I have."
"You have not. You have experienced battle, yes. A war, stretching days into months into years, is something else entirely. You have heard the poems and sagas – they speak of the things we wish to remember, the things we want others to know of. The victories and courage and valor and sacrifice, the skill and strength and endurance. Few sing of the other things, not in detail, not even in heavily veiled kennings. Eyes frozen in a final moment of fear the instant before the body encased in ice is shattered into shards. The sight of a dear friend's last drops of blood escaping him while knowing that no one, not even yourself, can step away to crush a stone over him. The stench of decaying bodies around you, even under you, as you fight on, again and again. There's an ugliness about it, a stripping away of basic decencies, not fit for even the darkest sagas.
"When it was finally over, the Ice War, the deadliest war we'd fought in since the Aesir-Vanir War…there was an emptiness of a sort. Weariness. Relief. I don't know precisely how to describe it. The celebrations, the mead, the new verses…that would all come later, when we returned to Asgard. In the meantime, we made a tour of the ruins of the Jotun capital, Tyr and I, a few other Einherjar."
Loki was pulled out of the story at the spike of fear that Tyr, with whom he'd long had something of an uneasy relationship, and random "other Einherjar" knew what he was as well.
"In the temple, we heard a sound. I thought it was an animal at first. Something wounded and starving. We strolled about the interior, and found it, like the rest of the city, deserted and severely damaged. I followed the sound, I can't exactly say why. Something drew me to it. Sounds of life. I called Tyr over when I saw it was a baby. I sent him to see what he could find out, and I picked you up. You'd been crying, you looked so forlorn. My first thought was that you'd somehow been lost in the chaos of battle, your mother too afraid to come back for you. You were cold – you should have been, of course, but you settled so quickly in my arm and…my instinct was to warm you. As I touched you, warming you, you began to change, taking the form of an Aesir. I hadn't meant to do that, but I assumed it was simply another instinct, to make you look more like me.
"I swaddled you as best I could – I'd had more practice at it with my younger brothers than with my own son – and Tyr soon returned. He'd found the temple caretaker, the only Frost Giant who hadn't fled the area. He told him that you were Laufey's son, and that you'd been left there deliberately. That you were not to be disturbed. Tyr threatened the old man and set him on his toes. He was as disgusted as I was. I set you down where I'd found you and walked away, but then I told the others to go on without me, that I wanted to wander the temple alone a while longer. And I went back to you and picked you up again. Your skin was still a pale pink, your Jotun lines still faded away. I hadn't even thought about your size, not at first. I'd never seen a Jotun baby. But I realized then that you were the size of an Aesir baby, a little smaller than Thor, even, when he was first born, and that must have made you…unworthy, in Laufey's eyes. The war was over, the Ice Casket was already back on Asgard, and Jotunheim had already accepted a truce that was in fact a surrender; Tyr and I walking freely about Jotunheim's most important monuments was meant to reinforce that among the Jotuns. Diplomacy would have dictated that I leave you there; I had no legal justification to interfere. Basic decency, though, that basic decency that gets stripped away in war…I couldn't leave you there to die, alone and unwanted. There had been enough death, enough cruelty. You were…a light in the darkness."
Loki frowned and looked away at that; Odin was telling an engaging tale, but here he was laying it on a little thick.
"Hope and life, amidst despair and death."
"And a path to subduing Jotunheim for good," Loki quickly put in.
"Is that such a terrible thing?" Odin asked. "It wasn't my intent to make Jotunheim a vassal realm, a Svartalfheim to our Alfheim of old, and I did not take you as some sort of game piece, or 'stolen relic' as you put it, not to that end or any other. I took you to save an innocent baby's life. But in that moment, it seemed meant to be, that this was not some random coincidence, that I had stumbled across you for a reason. Laufey had rejected peace until forced into it, he had rejected the civilized norms of the other realms, and he had rejected you. And there you were. You needed a family's love and nurture – I didn't immediately know it would be my family, certainly not without speaking to Frigga first – but you needed a family, and you weren't going to find it on Jotunheim. You could find it on Asgard, and someday you could return as Laufey's true heir and lead Jotunheim on the path of peace and reconciliation. You could forge a strong Jotunheim that would be an ally rather than an adversary intent on attacking, destroying, and killing.
"I hid you in a travel bag I'd been carrying, and wrapped you in a light concealment with Gungnir. Tyr never knew. When we presented our son Loki, he looked every bit an Aesir."
"You said I had something to do with that. But that's not the story you've just told."
"You only heard one part of a very long story. I cut short our tour, and returned to Asgard. I delayed for a private moment with Heimdall, swearing him to secrecy. And then I went directly to your mother. We discussed it and agreed to take you in as our son. I barely knew what to do with Thor, and neither of us knew what complications might arise from raising a Jotun child, even one who now looked Aesir." They had been strange, heady days, after the war, trying to return to normal life, or what had been normal for the king of Asgard before the war, but now with a wife who'd been ruling the realm instead of standing quietly in the background, one son he barely knew, and a second son he didn't know at all, who was not even Aesir. Much of it was a blur, but there were some moments that were forever etched in his memory in perfect clarity.
"The first complication arose early that first night. Frigga had held you most of the rest of the day; she wanted to make sure that she bonded with you as your mother. I had to see Eir about my eye and attend a few meetings, so she was on her own during that time, cloistered in our chambers. I returned as soon as I could to help…and to spend time with the family I hadn't seen much of since the fighting on Midgard broke out. We didn't have any separate provisions for you yet, so we settled you down beside Thor in his cradle and took some time for ourselves. Some two or three hours later, we woke up to screaming. I thought we were under attack; your mother had the good sense to realize it was Thor. I followed her to the cradle, and there we found you'd reverted to Jotun form, and you'd grasped Thor's arm and burned it."
The thought made Loki's stomach churn. Whatever was between him and Thor now, he had unabashedly adored him in childhood. Sickeningly so, he thought reflexively before quickly pushing that idea away; a child's innocent love and affection was undeserving of such heavy disdain. But the thought that within mere hours in Thor's presence he'd injured him brought back that sense of being a parasite on the house of Odin, destroying it from the inside out, of being fated to play that role. "I suppose it's a little late for an apology," he said with forced sarcasm that required more effort than it really should have.
"It wasn't intentional. A baby – a Jotun one too, we learned – has a strong grasp reflex. It just so happened that your grasp was dangerous to Thor. Frigga picked Thor up and I picked you up – you were crying by then, too – and almost immediately you stopped crying and you changed back to Aesir form. It was then that I realized that while I had perhaps stimulated your initial shift, I hadn't caused it. You had. We'd thought the change was, essentially, permanent; the incident made us realize it wasn't. But it would need to be for Thor's safety, and for your own. So that night, while you slept I held you, and used Gungnir to study the magic of your transformation, and then to embed it more deeply in you – to make it permanent, rather than something consciously done or instinctively triggered, so that you could touch and be touched, and live a normal childhood, a normal life. Not just my magic, then, but your own innate magic with it, woven together as a tapestry."
Odin paused, smiled, breathed out something approaching a laugh. "When I was a boy, my parents insisted I take lessons in tapestry-making. Part of cultural studies. Meant to make me better appreciate art and interpretive history and all sorts of other things that seemed to me the most colossal waste of time ever forced upon a restless growing boy. I was a very poor student. I lacked both interest and talent and my tapestries were horrible. I didn't care. 'I told you I'd be no good at this," I insisted to my father with my chest all puffed out. He was unimpressed." Bor, of course, had never been easy to impress. Odin's smile faded with the memory and he returned his attention to Loki. "I thought I had done better with you."
Loki listened in discomfort. There was a very very old familiarity to hearing Odin's stories, something that called forth similarly old feelings. But Loki was no longer a boy, and these stories were now the stories of his own life. And Odin, he thought, had just compared him to a badly woven textile. "And you said there was nothing more to tell," Loki said to prod Odin along.
"I suppose I was wrong. There's always more to tell. We sent for Eir the next day and explained the situation," Odin continued. "She examined you and found you healthy, and we agreed that from then on she would be the only one to treat you. Despite the thoroughness of your shift, you were still in fact Jotun, and for the sake of your health, we couldn't let anyone treat you that didn't know that truth."
Loki considered that. He'd figured that part out already, that Eir had to be the only healer who knew since it was extremely rare that he'd been treated by anyone else, even for minor injuries. But he'd thought about it solely in terms of protection of Odin's darkest secret, and not in terms of consideration of his actual health.
"Then we had to work out how we would explain your sudden presence. Why no one had seen any sign of pregnancy in Frigga. How you were born so soon after Thor. After that…we were simply a family. Thor grew boisterous and you grew mischievous…we were happy. You were happy."
At that Loki tightened his jaw. It felt like an accusation – "you were happy" – as though he should still be happy now, as though he had no right to be anything less than happy. And grateful for his happiness. "Let's get to the heart of this, shall we? If I'd been born to some unknown giant, would you have kept me?"
"I found out very quickly that that was not the case. And the decision was made over a thousand years ago. I can't say for certain what I might have decided had facts been different. Except that I would not have left you there to die. That much was never in question." Odin paused, sighed, thought he should push himself further. "We grew distant over time; I know that, and I regret it. I often found it difficult to relate to you, and I think you to me. But it was different when you were very young. I told you that I was drawn to you in some way…I felt a bond with you even before your mother did. I had an infant son and was separated from him when I did not wish it, and you had a father and a mother you'd been separated from when you surely did not wish it."
"In other words, you were overcome by sentiment. I find that rather difficult to believe."
"I wasn't overcome by anything. But sentimental…yes. I…" Odin's voice trailed off when he felt a slight vibration in his bones.
Loki narrowed his eyes at him, but a second later felt what Odin obviously had, and in that same second Odin stood, immediately crossing the short width of the jamesway and retrieving Gungnir. His reaction made Loki think they were under attack, that Gullveig had used his reprieve to plan an assault on Midgard. The vibration quickly grew stronger, a shaking that made him sway on the bed. This was no attack, he realized. First, Gullveig launching his attack on the South Pole – even with most of the royal family here – made no more sense than Loki doing so. Gullveig could take this place with little more than a flick of a finger, with nothing to show for it, and Heimdall could ensure Odin's and his family's retreat back to Asgard. Second, Loki recognized the shaking as it intensified. It was an earthquake.
/
Long chapter so nothing from me here. Except for the standard THANKS to everyone on board this very long train ride with me. It does have a final station. :-)
Previews for Ch. 146: Well, yeah, did you read the last sentence of the chapter?
Excerpt (just one sentence from a short paragraph for you, you can chalk it up to my desire to go to bed, ha):
Chaos followed, and not of the type Loki found any pleasure in.
