_._
Beneath
Chapter One Hundred Seventy-Eight – Wounds
The others exchanged greetings with Heimdall; Loki gave a slight nod to him. They had an understanding, perhaps, and one that could be useful to Loki. He wasn't going to goad the gatekeeper, not now.
"Your thoughts, Finnulfur?" Loki asked bringing everyone to a halt before they could get too far from the Tesseract site, now back near the broken bifrost not far from where it had been before the war. The location was guarded by at least two dozen Einherjar, each of whom saluted Jolgeir as he passed.
"We have no laws regulating the use of prosthetic limbs of any sort. I did some cursory research on the matter before we went to Midgard. One could interpret the rules for the Trials and formal competitions and the like as forbidding the use of them in those circumstances. For other uses…I'll need to do some further reading, but I suspect the law has nothing relevant to say on it."
"Have you no opinion?" Loki prodded.
Finnulfur hesitated, then smiled in a way that bore a certain weariness. "I am so unaccustomed to sharing opinions outside of judgements grounded in law that I find it difficult to abandon the latter in favor of the former. When one is the First Magistrate, one's opinions tend to be given the weight of formal judgement. I prefer to think on it a while longer, if you don't mind."
Loki nodded. He couldn't recall Finnulfur directly explaining why before, but he knew he was generally reluctant to voice personal opinions on serious matters, and in Assembly rarely spoke outside his own mandate. Loki didn't actually care very much what his opinion was, though. "Eir?"
"It was fascinating. I'm amazed at how much Midgard has advanced since I was a young woman. Their ideas are impressive; their techniques are…blunt. We could adapt what they're doing without too much difficulty. Whether we should…I'm afraid that's a question for someone else. If you would like to come by my office and speak further…"
"No need," Loki said, aware that her offer was about her concern for him, not prosthesis. "It's Thor who's collecting opinions, anyway, not me. I'm merely curious. Go on ahead. I'd still like to hear Jolgeir's thoughts." Thankfully, neither Eir nor Finnulfur insisted on hearing Jolgeir's thoughts, too.
"They've given me much to think about. It was overwhelming, really," Jolgeir said when they were alone on a path back to the palace, not too far from Heimdall and the Tesseract. "What do you think?"
Loki's eyes widened in surprise; he hadn't expected the question to be turned around on him. His own question was still mostly for appearances, though in Jolgeir's case, he was genuinely interested. "It was all very strange," he said after a moment, hardly the most insightful comment he could have made, but it was a lot to take in for him, too.
"I suppose we each have our own ideas about battle and injury."
Loki nodded, thoughts drifting back to yesterday. "The Frost Giants pour molten metal into their wounds to preserve them. And if they don't happen to have any, they make them, deliberately, to avoid taunting."
"Strange."
"Indeed."
"I wouldn't have imagined they would have some of the same ideas we do."
Loki stared at Jolgeir as though he'd gone mad. "I don't- That's- No one on Asgard or any other of the realms would dream of pouring liquefied metal into his wound, warrior or otherwise. It's barbaric."
"Yes, but…do you remember your first battle wound?"
It took only a second of thought. "I do." He failed to see the point. He hadn't dripped metal onto it, or had even the slightest temptation or thought of doing so. If he had been tainted by certain things from Jotunheim that had dug into his mind and body and refused to release their hooks from him, this was certainly not one of them.
"What was it?"
"A Svartalf short spear. Through my thigh."
"Didn't you put off seeing the healer afterward?"
"I couldn't go to a healer. I wasn't supposed to be in that particular battle." Thor, he thought with a mild flash of annoyance.
"Did you delay crumbling a stone, then? Because you were proud of it, and what it meant? Not a training accident, but an actual battle wound?"
Loki stared at the spot on the ground where he would alight, pictured himself doing it, thought about how high he would have to lift his injured leg to avoid bumping it or the shaft of the short spear sticking out of it on the saddle or Lifhilda's back. He told himself it was to ensure he did it all correctly. He knew it was because he was putting it off.
"Want me to help?"
Loki glanced at his brother, paused in his washing at the fountain, and shook his head. They were alone in the stable; Thor had sent the two servants there off with an admonition to tell no one what they'd seen.
It was going to hurt. That was unavoidable. He'd barely felt the injury; he'd felt an impact and thought something hit him, and a few seconds later there was a bit of a sting, but it wasn't until he saw it that he realized a spear had fully pierced his leg and now protruded from the front and back. He hadn't had a spare second to think about it until shortly before Heimdall brought them home, when it started to throb. Heimdall, thankfully, had sent for horses to meet them on the bifrost, because immediately upon arrival the damaged muscle gave way and Loki's leg buckled; Thor's quick arm under his shoulder was all that kept him upright.
Just do it, he told himself. He gritted his teeth, pushed off on his left leg, swung the right one high up and over Lifhilda, twisted, bent and pushed against the saddle as he got his left foot out of the stirrup, and it was all meant to end up with him planting only his left leg but his balance was off and his movements awkward and it didn't quite work out that way and the right one struck ground, too. He squeezed his eyes shut and gripped the edge of the saddle hard, willing himself not to pass out, because that would be humiliating. A warrior was supposed to be able to bear pain. And he had, he supposed, while the battle was underway. But back safe on Asgard, far from any battle, he didn't feel much like a warrior. Especially since he was wearing a dress.
"Disrobe, my lovely maid, so we can look at your leg."
"Don't start," Loki said, glaring at his older brother. "And I don't need to disrobe to be able to see my leg."
"Come to like wearing a gown, Brother? It is breezy." Thor was already out of his own blood-soaked gown and down to the regular sleepshorts he'd worn underneath; they'd figured that if it came to inspecting their underclothes, their plan was already ruined.
Some half an hour later, following arguing and repositioning and a few death threats, Thor was rubbing his arm where Loki had clenched onto it, a fresh flow of blood was steadily dripping onto the packed dirt floor, Loki was trying to pretend that his eyes were merely watering from the dust in the air, and Thor held in his hand a broken blood-slick metal and wood spear.
Thor had been more enthralled by it than Loki at first – Thor had a bruised arm but Loki had a hole through his leg. Focusing on that was better than dwelling on what had happened on Svartalfheim, though, and Loki had soon found himself captivated as well. And when Thor inevitably started narrating the battle, even reenacting it in places, Loki's injury and how he'd fought on bravely despite it made him a hero right alongside Thor. Even if it was just between the two of them. Even if Thor was still the main hero and Loki secondary, despite the plan having been Loki's. Even if what happened hadn't seemed all that heroic at the time. He'd easily gotten swept up in Thor's enthusiasm back then.
"I suppose I delayed for a little while," he said. "Long enough that two small scars were left, entry and exit. But that wasn't deliberate. I couldn't go to Eir to have them healed. They're barely visible now." He paused, tried to shake off the defensiveness. Jolgeir didn't know what he was, what he was trying to avoid being cast in the same lot with. Still, when he returned to Eir to heal the considerably more noticeable scar on his wrist, he thought he might have her work on the ones on his thigh, too, and wondered if thousand-year-old scars were beyond even Eir's healing. "I did save the spear," he added with a slight smile.
"I didn't go for five days," Jolgeir said. "The wound was healing badly and I was about to give in and go when my superior noticed. He screamed at me until I thought I might go deaf, demoted me, and ordered me to the Healing Room in shackles. But all my friends celebrated me," he added with a fond grin.
"Did they also beat you?" It was a tradition among the Einharjar, practiced when circumstances allowed it, as Loki understood. Pain doled out, often aimed right at the point of injury, to make the warrior strong, to punish him for letting himself get wounded, and to make him appreciate having survived the battle by giving him plenty to feel to know he was in fact alive; it was done not out of malice or cruelty but out of a deep bond the Einherjar formed with each other, renewed through a beating delivered with shouting and whooping and laughing. The dead were celebrated, too, but this was a celebration of life and of victory. Loki couldn't claim to fully understand it, but then he'd long ago grown out of his fleeting desire to become an Einherjar.
"To a pulp. I couldn't move my hand for-"
Loki fought the urge to look away and simply waited for Jolgeir to continue. He didn't look away even when he realized his former guard's eyes had grown moist.
"I haven't thought about that for a while," Jolgeir said a moment later. "Sometimes it sneaks up on me, the sense of loss." He sighed. "I don't know, Loki. If you asked me if I'd like to still have my arms, of course I would. I'd like to still be that man who tossed my little girl into the air and caught her while she laughed and laughed. I'd like to touch Sibba's face, hold her hand. I'd even like to get beaten to a pulp again and have that hand there even though I couldn't use it for a while. Though that desire isn't quite as strong as the other two; those beatings are a younger man's pursuit," he said, lightening the tone of his words with a smile. "And of course we're not like the Frost Giants, but it's not that different, in a sense, is it? Battle injuries mean something, to them and to us. Can they still mean something if I artificially conceal it? Does it make me seem as though I'm ashamed, instead of proud that I survived it, that I endured it for Asgard?"
"Anyone who knows you knows you're not ashamed, and that you have no reason to be," Loki said, feeling vaguely ashamed himself for having delved into all this with Jolgeir. He'd merely been trying to make staying behind to speak with Heimdall look natural, asking for the gatekeeper's thoughts after asking for everyone else's. Jolgeir had treated him with respect, and spoken up for him in his absence, and Loki was using him, using his injury no less. "I'll think on it. And regardless of what I or anyone else thinks, you heard what Finnulfur said, it's not a matter of law. If it's something you wish to pursue, it's your choice."
Jolgeir nodded. "Yes. But a society is built on more than laws."
Loki laughed. "When did you start studying philosophy?"
"I spent hundreds of years as the Chief Palace Einherjar, and before that guarding the king's sons. I regularly overheard conversations between some of the wisest men and women on Asgard. I picked up a few things."
Loki shook his head, laughing again along with Jolgeir. In view of the palace, as the sun sank lower in a bright blue sky, heavily-trod patchy green grass either side of the path they stood on. It was probably the most enjoyable moment he'd spent with Jolgeir in a thousand years. It was refreshing, and ironic that it should come now, at the same time as Loki sought to avoid getting entangled in events here beyond what was necessary to ensure his own freedom. "What did you really think of Tony Stark's mead?"
Jolgeir started to answer, but Loki could see the moment when he changed his mind. "Mr. Stark and Miss Potts have been great friends to Asgard. I won't say anything to add fuel to any fires you may wish to rekindle."
"That is answer enough, I believe. Go on, then, I know you have much to consider. I'll go back and inquire with Heimdall."
They parted ways, and Loki passed back by the guards to reach Heimdall, who stood exactly as he had been, the Tesseract still resting in its open container.
"Well?" Loki asked as soon as he stood alone with the gatekeeper. He saw no need to mince words. "What did you see?"
"A very broad question, Loki. But I know what you ask. What did you want me to see?"
"Where I was. Who I was with. Where I was."
"You were on Midgard, alone in a bathroom. But you were also somewhere else, and with someone else. Two others. It was dark. Hazy. Was it the same place you emerged from, when you went after the Tesseract on Midgard?"
"It was," Loki answered in a guarded tone. He was here to get information, not to provide it.
"I thought so. But I could not see or hear clearly. Like looking and listening through water."
"It doesn't matter," he said impatiently. "The only thing that matters is where."
"I don't know," Heimdall answered.
Loki didn't try to mask his frustration.
"Very far away, I think. There was a sense of isolation. I only saw it for a minute, but seeing it for longer would not have helped. There was too little to see. I'm sorry."
It was worth a try, Loki thought, though his disappointment was great. He supposed it was good to know that letting himself get pulled in by Thanos and the lackey again would do no good, not unless he could convince Thanos to reveal the location. The lackey would never do so; Loki wouldn't have been surprised if he didn't even know where their humble chuck of rock floated.
"This was the realm of Thanos, the one who secretly instigated this war?"
"Yes. So you understand why I need to know the location."
"You chose a poor ally."
Loki narrowed his eyes and remembered that he hated Heimdall, understanding or no. "The line of applicants wasn't long, given that I was stuck in the void of Yggdrasil. And our interests at the time aligned." Beggars can't be choosers, he added darkly, only to himself. He'd heard the expression on Earth and come to like it.
The silence – a standoff, it seemed to Loki – lingered, and it was Heimdall who broke it. "Thanos is an enemy of Asgard and indeed of all the Nine Realms, as much as he seems to now be your enemy. I am sorry that I was unable to see more."
Loki nodded. There was no use in getting angry about it, and he didn't doubt Heimdall's word; his and Heimdall's interests aligned in this. "You can make up for it by sending me back to Midgard. To the South Pole. I would not do so from Tony Stark's phone, but Jane Foster does deserve to be informed that the war is over and that all is now well here."
"I thought you intended to join the treaty negotiations."
"Yes, but I won't be long."
"The ambassadors for Alfheim, Nidavellir, and Svartalfheim have already arrived. The first meeting will begin as soon as they're all here."
This time Loki did control his reaction, giving only a curt nod. "Fine," he said. "Perhaps I'll go after the first meeting, then." Discussion would end for dinner, and Loki had no intention of joining whatever feast might be taking place in the palace among the Asgardians.
"Tony has already told her about the truce. He spoke with her right after you left."
"Fine," Loki said again. Heimdall's expression was unchanged, as calm and stoic as ever, but Loki knew when he was being toyed with. He wasn't going to forget Heimdall's betrayal, and Heimdall wasn't going to forget Loki using the Frost Giant's weapon to freeze him and slipping Frost Giants in past him, regardless of the reasons either of them had at the time. All part of the understanding.
"And then she spoke to me. She wanted me to give you a message."
Loki narrowed his eyes; this he hadn't expected. And he wasn't certain if he liked it. His conversations with Jane were private, not meant to go through anyone else, and certainly not Heimdall. "Yes?" he asked warily.
"She wanted you to know that she understood why you didn't contact her from New York. She requests that someone come to collect your things, due to the difficulty in removing them from the station. And she asks if you know how to remove blood stains with magic."
"Blood stains?" Loki asked with wrinkled nose and a bit of concern. Heimdall had spoken matter-of-factly, so Loki felt fairly certain no one was dying there, but… The mattress. And the blanket. "Thank you," he said perfunctorily. "Anything else?"
"That was all."
"A pleasure as always, Heimdall."
Heimdall nodded deeply, as though in respectful agreement, and Loki returned to the palace, back in the attire he'd left it in. Another thing to take care of. Fresh stains he could usually remove. Set-in ones were another matter. He would have to speak to the servants. And retrieving his belongings…he hadn't planned to retrieve them, but he'd forgotten about the problem of waste disposal at the Pole. Some of the items were personal, things he wouldn't want just anyone rummaging through. He was almost certain that a rather seductive portrait of Valita remained somewhere in that haphazard collection, not to mention an entire box of mementos from his time with Maeva, things that had somehow survived the destructive wrath of his temper and his mother had convinced him to keep. He doubted she'd meant to keep them this long, and he hadn't meant to, either; none of those things meant anything to him anymore and he had no interest in keeping them. It really was like a closet that never got emptied, and it was time for a thorough cleaning. Not at all a bad excuse for a return trip to Midgard. And to Jane.
/
/
Loki expected to wait in his chambers until summoned for the treaty negotiations, but before he made it there he inquired about the delegations from the other realms and learned that the Light Elves had petitioned to speak to Thor, and had just been granted an audience. Jaw set, he took the shortcuts through restricted areas of the palace and slipped into the throne room from the side; they had not yet been admitted.
"You agreed to speak to the Ljosalf delegation separately, before the joint negotiations?" he accused, after bounding up the stairs to the throne without waiting for permission. Thor seated on the throne still seemed more like Thor playing at being king than truly occupying that chair. The morning crowd had thinned, only a few others remaining including Bragi and an honor guard of Einherjar.
"I agreed to hear them, Loki," Thor said, choosing to ignore Loki's presumptuousness. His brother had earned the right to a bit of presumptuousness. "We are still holding their king prisoner."
"And we will continue to, until the treaty is signed."
"That isn't your decision."
"It's an incentive to force them to move quickly on the treaty."
"Anyone could later say the treaty is invalid because Alfheim's king was a captive, forced to agree to it."
Loki glanced toward Bragi; he suspected they'd already discussed this and Thor was repeating Bragi's argument. "So you've already decided to release him?"
"Yes."
"Do they know?"
"No. They're waiting to be admitted," Thor said with a gesture toward the clerk who had approached the foot of the stairs where Bragi stood, waiting for the final approval to send in the Light Elves.
"Then keep him until the treaty is finalized. He can be freed when the time comes to sign it, released to sign and seal it from Alfheim so that none can claim that he was at that point coerced."
Bragi hurried forward then, coming halfway up the stairs. "Your Majesty, the Ljosalf delegation will still want to consult with King Nadrith. They'll want his final approval for any decisions they make, and his input on their positions."
"They attacked us, why should we care what they want?" Loki asked, voice raised in frustration.
"Loki…," Thor chided.
"Yes, yes, I know. Allow them contact, then. Private contact, even, for all the consultations they desire. But do not release Nadrith until the treaty is ready for signing. I need them to move quickly, Thor."
"All right, I understand. Bragi, will it be acceptable to them, or will they refuse to negotiate while he's still prisoner?"
"They won't like it, but offer your oath that you'll agree to his release before the signing, and they'll have little choice. Nadrith was captured while attacking Asgard; the ability to meet freely with him before and during the negotiations does largely negate their grounds for seeking his release now."
Thor agreed to the revised plan, and Loki slipped away just as the Light Elves were announced. The list of things Loki needed to accomplish had just grown again; Nadrith could not be released until he'd taught Jane about Ljosalf canopies and answered every single one of her questions about them, and that needed to happen soon now.
/
/
"Loki Odinson," Bragi began. "You have been granted special status to join these negotiations, as a uniquely aggrieved party who therefore has his own interests in them which are distinct from Asgard's. What do you seek from these proceedings?"
They'd begun nearly two hours after Loki left the throne room; it was dinnertime already, but Bragi had pressured the ambassadors to hold the first round anyway and have a late dinner. Water and various teas were available on the table, as were plates of dried fruits and meats, which no one had touched. While waiting for the first round to begin, Loki had put together his short list of desired concessions.
"In preface to my remarks, I am not here as a son of Odin. So although my interests are distinct from Asgard's, I would like to be named in the records simply as 'Loki of Asgard.'"
"Any comment?" Bragi, as the host at the head of the table, asked the group. There was none. "Let the records reflect our additional participant as requested." He nodded for Loki to continue.
"As a uniquely aggrieved party in this war, then, I insist upon four concessions. First, the formal and unequivocal refutation of all claims against me, codified in writing for posterity, signed and sealed by every realm's ambassador and ruler, or rulers. Including Asgard's, just to be thorough," he added with a hard glance to Bragi, who shifted uncomfortably. "I will not be dragged back into the middle of it the next time any of you has a grievance."
No one responded, but that did not necessarily mean they each agreed. Responses to matters raised in the first round were not required until the second round.
"Second, swiftness. An object is not concerned by how long it lingers on a list of inactive demands. I am not an object, and I refuse to be treated as such any longer. We will reach our agreements quickly, and formally agree to them without delay."
Bragi had already prepared everyone for this expectation, so no one reacted with surprise, although Loki suspected that at least some of them still had a different understanding of "quickly" and "without delay" than he did.
"Third…oranges. Two full sellers' baskets, to be delivered within twenty-four hours of the signing of the treaty. I realize of course that this particular concession applies only to Vanaheim."
"You want two baskets of oranges," Rikolfur of Vanaheim repeated acerbically.
"Yes. Your war forced me to remain in hiding where I was unable to obtain them, and upon my return to Asgard I was informed we had none left here, either. I've missed them."
"It is a small thing," Biladu of Nidavellir said, tapping her long sharp fingernails on the table in a sign of impatience and annoyance, "and probably the easiest of all the concessions sought by anyone here. Two sellers' baskets? Deliver the oranges, Rikolfur. Deliver them before the treaty is even signed, why wait? In fact, I've missed oranges, too. The war has greatly disturbed our lines of trade. I wish to seek my own concession of two baskets of oranges."
"I'm afraid you cannot seek personal concessions here, Biladu," Bragi said, speaking over Vanaheim's and Muspelheim's ambassadors. "Only Loki of Asgard, due to unusual circumstances, has that right."
"For the love of Yggdrasil give him the oranges," the Ljosalf ambassador, Livondra, said. "Alfheim is in complete agreement with the first two concessions as well. We are just as desirous of a hasty end to this travesty as Loki of Asgard."
Isn't this interesting, Loki thought. In the parlance of the mortals he'd spent time with, the Ljosalf ambassador was sucking up to him. To Asgard in general, but Loki was certain that it was in part to him personally.
"We have no problem providing a few oranges," Rikolfur said, placating hand out. "My reaction was merely to the unusual nature of the request. Continue, Loki of Asgard."
"Fourth, and finally," Loki said, gaze sliding from ambassador to ambassador to let them see how serious he was, finally settling on the Dark Elf ambassador, "I require free reign to apprehend Brokk of Svartalfheim."
"On this point we cannot agree," Livondra said. "Brokk of Svartalfheim has aggrieved Alfheim, too, and by his insidious actions, damaged a relationship with Asgard which we greatly esteem. Apprehending him is on our list of concessions sought, too."
"He has aggrieved us all," Muspelheim's ambassador said. "We lost many brave fighters because of a war he convinced us all to join."
Discussion and argument grew louder – Loki wasn't going to join a shouting match and so waited in silence for it to calm – when the Dark Elf stood, gaining everyone's attention.
"You may fight over Brokk all you like, but it will do you no good. The traitor deceived us all, Svartalfheim included. We sought him out at his home early this morning, by Asgardian time, and found that he had already fled. He is adept at magic and in possession of a talisman that enables him to travel almost anywhere within the Nine Realms. He won't be easy to find, but we will not rest until he is captured and brought to heel."
"Loki's desired concession is noted. Others who seek the same, say so when it is your time to speak. Debate on the matter will begin in our second session. Biladu of Nidavellir, you may proceed."
Biladu had nothing of interest to say. She sought a formal apology from both Svartalfheim and Alfheim, and the right to pursue Brokk, though the latter seemed more of an afterthought; if everyone else was going to stake a claim on Brokk, then she would do so for Nidavellir, too.
Loki barely listened; from what he'd learned, Nidavellir had played a relatively minor role in the war. He was instead fixated on Brokk, who was for him not at all an afterthought. Brokk was his enemy, and the only person he knew of that might know where to find Thanos and The Other physically. He had to find Brokk. He had to find Brokk. Whether anyone officially sanctioned it or not. And he had to find him before anyone else did. It hadn't occurred to him that Brokk might already have fled; he'd figured that for all the favor Brokk had curried with Svartalfheim's rulers over the course of the war, as evidenced by the newly acquired fineries in his home in the capital, he would have earned their protection. But Svartalfheim turning on him made sense, too – everyone wanted a scapegoat, and Brokk was a convenient one for Svartalfheim, just like he was for each of the other realms. So while Nidavellir's and then Muspelheim's ambassadors spoke, Loki devoted half of his attention to refining his argument for gaining the claim on Brokk – he knew Brokk personally and thus knew his patterns of behavior and how he thought, he knew magic and was familiar with Brokk's magic – all the while knowing both that a lack of success in argumentation wouldn't stop him, and that Brokk could, truly, be anywhere.
Livondra of Alfheim sought Brokk, apologies and acceptance of responsibility from Svartalfheim as well as separately from Vanaheim, and Nadrith's immediate release, despite Thor having already refused them that.
Godekk of Svartalfheim made a show of righteous anger toward Brokk, noting again that he had deceived Svartalfheim just as he had everyone else, and that all involved had made their own decisions. Svartalfheim demanded Brokk and apologies from Vanaheim.
Rikolfur of Vanaheim sought to lay blame at Svartalfheim's feet and wanted a formal apology from Svartalfheim, and from Asgard the renewal of all treaties that the war had negated, especially the Five Principal Treaties.
For Asgard, Bragi laid out the temporary reduced-cost food trade request – carefully stated as such – that Loki had already heard about, and added a claim on Brokk for Asgard, and an apology from Gullveig personally for the dishonorable acts that lay at his feet.
Helheim was merely a symbolic member of the alliance, and Jotunheim had already withdrawn.
Loki lingered for a bare minimum of the polite chatter after the first round, then hurried back to Heimdall.
"I have been searching for him ever since the attacks ceased, but I have not seen him," Heimdall responded to Loki's question.
"Do you see anything? Your vision seems questionable these days," Loki bit out.
"It is unfortunate that someone taught Brokk how to hide himself from me," Heimdall said, the picture of serenity.
Loki worked his jaw. He was on the verge of truly losing his temper, and that wasn't going to help matters. "Indeed," he said with a tight smile, then turned to leave. He'd known Brokk would've been concealing himself; he had to ask, though, just in case. "Should you see him…"
"I'll send word to you immediately," Heimdall said, saluting as a mark of the sincerity of his pledge.
/
/
"What do you mean he isn't coming?" Thor asked, incredulous.
"That is all he said, Your Majesty," the servant reported.
"Well, tell him that-" Thor cut off his angry retort at the flare of fear in the young man's eyes. There was no point in subjecting the servant to Loki's whims and moods. There was no point in an argument via an intermediary at all. He pushed his chair back and stood.
Everyone else at the King's Table followed suit.
"Sit, sit," Thor admonished, shaking his head. He'd thought he'd gotten used to these protocols, or rather being on this end of them. If anyone could make him forget them, it was Loki. "Please, the hour is late enough as it is. Begin without me; I'll fetch Loki."
He strode away from the table to salutes, bracing himself for another confrontation and hoping Loki would see reason and confrontation could be avoided.
/
/
"I should be doing this for you," Frigga said, relaxing into the strong hands working her shoulders, thumbs digging in exactly where he knew she liked the extra pressure.
"I have neglected you," Odin said matter-of-factly.
"You have been busy," she responded, chest pulsing with a laugh she tried to contain so as not to disrupt her husband's work. "Just yesterday you were out fighting a war."
"Yes. And today the fighting is over, and my son sits on the throne. I have no cares at all anymore."
Frigga reached up behind her and placed her hands over Odin's. "I can hear the smile in your voice, you know. As long as there is breath in you, you will be full of cares."
"Allow me to pretend for a moment," Odin said, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to the crook of her neck.
"Come here. Sit."
He gave her shoulders a final squeeze, straightened her gown, and came around to sit next to her on the divan.
"Are you sure you wouldn't rather go to the Feasting Hall?"
"I've already eaten, my lady."
"Yes," Frigga said with a smile; they'd dined in their own chambers, quietly, alone. "No one said you had to eat."
"If the All-Father doesn't eat, no one else will, either. I don't wish to deprive anyone of a well-deserved meal."
"You could order them to eat."
Odin laughed; it was a good feeling. He hadn't laughed for some time. "Thor has to learn his way," he said, sobering. "I think he will learn by doing, more than by lecturing or even by observing. Easier if I'm not there."
"Perhaps," Frigga conceded.
"He knows I will have final approval over the treaty for Asgard, and until then, most of the responsibility lies with Bragi."
"And Loki," she reminded.
"And Loki," he agreed. He'd been more than a little surprised that Loki had gained himself a seat at the negotiation table, but he was learning that when sufficiently motivated, sufficiently committed, Loki's ability to get what he wanted was impressive, if a little disquieting. "I worry about him."
"In what way?"
Odin shook his head. "Would that it were only one. He's acting in his own personal interests rather than Asgard's."
"Can you blame him? I'm glad that he's acting in his own interests. His own interests right now are sound and healthy. And I'm glad that he isn't acting against Asgard's."
"A better way to think of it, yes, my love," Odin replied, though he thought it a strange thing to say, and wasn't sure what she meant by "sound and healthy" interests. Of course, Frigga had been privy to things that he had not. "What happened on Jotunheim?"
She sighed, slumping a little from her good posture. "I don't know. He was agitated. Upset. But he never told me much about it. He had questions about his childhood. He made an odd comment about Jotun toys. I think perhaps he saw children."
"Thor didn't mention seeing children."
"I know, but Loki met with Farbauti alone. Who knows what he heard and saw? From what Loki said, she's crafty and cunning. He said she spies on her own sons and she actually paid their army commander to join the war and attack the both of them. The more I think about it…the more I worry over what exactly she said to him. He doesn't want anyone to know it, Odin, but he's incredibly vulnerable, and anyone who knows the truth of his birth doesn't need to be particularly crafty to guess his weak points and press them."
"It sounds like she pressed them. He told me only that she said she was the one who abandoned him, not Laufey. And that she said he was precious. Rather contradictory, don't you think?" Odin asked with raised eyebrow.
Frigga nodded. It sounded contradictory and cruel. Loki struggled enough with his origins, and what it meant. No wonder he'd returned from Jotunheim half out of his mind. She wondered if it was Farbauti herself who had wrapped Loki in the bit of green cloth, which Frigga had always taken as a sign of caring.
"But he seemed fine. Belligerent, as usual of late, but fine. He asked if I'd ever regretted taking him. He expected the answer to be yes, called me a liar as soon as I said no. But when I told him that there was once such a time…it affected him."
"Once such a- Oh." A time that they were all better off not reliving. Right now, especially Loki. "Take care with him, Odin."
"You have been telling me all his life to take care with him. I don't know how to treat a son like a vase made of thin glass. I don't know how to reach him. Nothing I say and nothing I do works. I thought…I hoped that he would come back to us from this reassured. Understanding that if he had nothing else, even if he no longer looked Aesir, he would still be our son, Asgard still his heritage. Thor thought he would learn, as he did."
"Loki is not the same as Thor, and never has been. Whether that's because of who he was born to, it hardly matters now, it's simply fact. Thor's self-assurance saw him through his banishment. Loki doesn't have that overabundance of self-assurance. Especially not since he learned where he was born. I know what you wanted to achieve, but I think instead it took away his hope."
"With both of them there was always a risk…," Odin began, but then pictured again how Frigga's eyes had flickered away from him when she said he had taken Loki's hope, and how when they returned, they were shadowed in sorrow. "What aren't you telling me? What more happened on Jotunheim?" He remembered then what else she hadn't told him, what she'd refused to tell him, something which was obviously significant. "What did he come here for, Frigg, so many years in the past?"
She struggled with it. How to answer, whether to answer. Loki hadn't wanted her to tell Odin, hadn't wanted anyone to know, even her. She understood that, and had agreed not to tell him right away. Two days had passed now and the war was over; Loki had accomplished his goal. And as his father, Odin needed to know. She took a deep breath, and met Odin's eyes with a steady gaze. "He came here to right the wrong of you having taken him from Jotunheim."
Comprehension did not come immediately. Odin's first thought, that Loki had come to ambush him and kill him, made him shudder. As much damage as Loki had done, he'd never feared for himself at Loki's hand, even after learning of the dangerous position Loki had put him in to set himself up as the hero who saved him from Laufey. A Loki who had truly turned against him, against Asgard… If Odin had not fully realized how formidable Loki was before, in imagining what his younger son had just accomplished against the other realms he thought he had an inkling of what he could accomplish against Asgard if he chose to. But if Loki wanted to kill him, doing it while he lay completely vulnerable in the Sleep would be far wiser. Even doing it while he lay in common sleep would be wiser. Lying in wait all day while Frigga and servants came and went, until finally Odin returned late at night…it seemed poor planning, for such a significant event. Loki often made poor decisions, and while his planning of late had sometimes also been lacking, he could not picture Loki having planned that poorly for an attempted regicide. "How did he intend to do th-"
And then he saw that same sorrow in Frigga's eyes. And next saw Loki's anguished expression smooth over, a decision made, a grip released. "It took away his hope." His eyes refocused. "The dagger?" he asked.
"He came to use it," she said with a mournful nod. "Jane found a note he left her, a veiled goodbye note, and followed him and stopped him before he could try. And she told me that Loki needed all the love I could give him."
Odin's eyes lost focus, thoughts drifting through old memories. Loki's first steps which he'd somehow been lucky enough to see in person, his giggles when Odin "stole" his nose, the shock and horror and confusion and disgust on his face when a goat at a nature park did its business on his boot, the moment disbelief transformed into joy when he'd realized Lifhilda was his, how crushed he'd looked when Odin told him he couldn't solve the problem of his Trials for him and didn't tell him how much he wished he could. Loki's first battle. The sea battle where he'd conquered the last of his fears. His first love. His first heartbreak. So many other memories, some good, some bad. Loki had tried to erase them all. Unthinkable.
It was obvious, in retrospect. The dagger. Two infants. Frigga's silence, except to assure him Thor was not in danger. And it wasn't even the first time. Much as Odin disliked dwelling on it, he had seen in Loki's face the exact moment he had chosen to give up – and not in the way Odin had wanted – the second before he let go of Gungnir. Obvious, and yet so unspeakable an act that still it hadn't occurred to him that Loki's final journey through time was to end his own life when it had barely begun.
He couldn't have done it; Glodir's attempts had shown this. Jane Foster hadn't saved his life then. She, had, however, perhaps saved something of his mind. And not much later, risked her life for his. The Loki he'd spoken to today was more rational, more in control of himself, more self-possessed than he'd seen him since before Jotunheim. Pursuing "sound and healthy" self interests, as Frigga had put it; he understood now what she'd meant. Loki was pursuing freedom, and in a calm, cogent, and calculating manor. The pursuit of freedom assumed the pursuit of life. He decided then and there that he was going to have to find some way to better express his appreciation toward her, once the treaty was in place. "Thank you" was not enough.
"What went wrong?" he wondered aloud, not particularly expecting an answer. He recalled carrying a sleeping Loki down to the Weapons Vault to see the Ice Casket, back when they'd expected to prepare him to be Jotunheim's king, how Loki had snuggled against him and he'd wrapped his arms around his warm little bundle and stroked a hand over the soft black hair. "We gave him a good home, did we not? We loved him. Made sure he had the best tutors, the best trainers, everything he needed." He recalled his rage at the nursemaid who'd bruised Loki's arms, his discomfort with permitting anyone other than family around him for a while after. "Did I make a mistake, bringing him here?"
"What?" Frigga said, pulled abruptly from her own memories. "Of course not! Whatever difficulties we've faced, my life is fuller for him being in it. And the thought of him dying on Jotunheim, alone, not understanding why his mother left him, why she wasn't coming back, I can't-"
"I don't speak of regrets, Frigg. Once it was done it was done. He was our son, and there was and is no turning back from that. But I wonder if…if in a way I doomed him. If he'll ever be satisfied. At peace with himself. We've lived all these years in denial. First that we would tell Loki the truth, that everyone would know the truth, and there would be no consequences. And then since he was…five? That neither Loki nor anyone else would ever know the truth, and there would be no consequences to that, either. And throughout all these years, even if we had a notion that someday we would tell him, it never occurred to us that circumstances beyond our control might reveal the truth, at a time and place not of our choosing, so we never even considered what the consequences of that might be."
"We knew there would be consequences. But you're right. We avoided dwelling on them. It used to tear me up inside that we hadn't told him. And then it just…didn't seem to matter so much anymore. We should have stayed with the original plan and told him when he was a child."
"His childhood would have been a never-ending struggle. We held an innocent Jotun infant when we agreed to make him ours. The rest of Asgard knew only Jotun monsters. He would have been ostracized. The end of that war made me overly sentimental and optimistic. I thought that in a few years the memories of it would be less sharp. But looking back…there were no more wars. No enemies to take the place of the Frost Giants. And no interactions with Jotunheim to create images of anything other than slaying and being slain."
He recalled picking up a stunned, wide-eyed, limp Loki who'd fallen from his and Frigga's bed, terrified that his boy had badly hurt himself, but reassured once Loki's arms latched onto him, little fingers digging into his skin with every bit of strength contained in the tiny body. "I used to know what he needed from me. But that was a long time ago. I don't anymore. And I fear he'll never be happy now that he knows the truth. And that that will continue to drive him to terrible acts."
"Just love him, Odin. Keep loving him, even when he rejects it, even when it's hard. Try to be patient with him. Let him feel what he feels, don't try to tell him what he should or shouldn't feel. We can't force him back to us. If we make him feel like a captive even though he's free, he'll still want to escape. And don't despair. It suits you ill. Loki gave me his oath that he wouldn't seek to…to end his life. And he isn't doomed to a life of misery. Even amid the unfavorable circumstances he was in at Midgard's South Pole, he was still able to find friendship, and to find happiness, at times. It'll take time, but he'll find his way again. He'll find himself again. I have to believe that. I do believe it. Here," she said, squeezing Odin's knee then jumping up and coming behind him to place her hands over his shoulder. "Your turn."
He was tense, but tried to make himself relax under the press of Frigga's hands. "Just love him." He did love Loki. Sometimes love wasn't enough. At any rate, his love was clearly not enough. "Your love is the most steadfast I know. I'm glad he's accepted you, at least."
"Yes. There's still been a loss of trust, though. He doesn't tell me much, and he's quick to anger."
"He told you about…the dagger."
"Very little. And only when I directly confronted him about it, after Jolgeir gave me the analysis of the dagger's origins."
Minutes passed, and the tension in Odin's body began to fade. He recalled the little infant with the enormous red eyes, alone, distraught, hungry. How quickly he'd calmed once Odin picked him up. And just days later, that same infant now with Aesir features, sleeping peacefully next to Thor in a cradle in these very chambers. How he had grown up to return to the same place, intending to commit another heinous act, this one rooted in a particular form of darkness that Odin couldn't fully comprehend.
He hadn't meant to take away hope. However he'd miscalculated, though, the doubt that had flickered through him had already passed. "I'm glad I brought him home," he said, twisting his neck to look up at Frigga.
Frigga smiled, leaned down to press her cheek against Odin's. "As am I."
/
Ah, the joy of retyping all this after I already typed it and the website logged me out when I clicked save! Thanks to all reviewers, favers, followers, it looks like quite a few "new" folks have climbed on this particular train, welcome! I expect much of the added interest is from Ragnarok coming out in the US a little over a week ago. Did you enjoy it? I have to say it took some time spent thinking through and discussing what we saw, but in the end I decided I'm quite happy with Loki's character arc. (Spoiler-free in review comments please.) I put up a tiny story that fills out a Ragnarok scene BTW, it's under the title "Ragnarok Moments: A Collection." I might add a couple of similarly short things to it. Hoping to do a couple of blog posts at some point...
Previews for Ch. 179: Mainly, Thor goes to fetch Loki. And if you think about that word choice, you might guess how that might go.
Excerpt:
Still just a few steps from the door, Thor turned to open it himself. A servant, a young woman, stood there with a covered tray. "Come back later. Loki will send for you." The woman acknowledged the command and left. When he turned back around, Loki was staring at him with seeming confusion.
"Did you just dismiss my servant? With my food?"
Extra preview: #DontDismissLokisServantWithHisFood
