.-.

Beneath

Chapter Two Hundred Nine - Righting

"Would you rather I go, my prince?"

Distracted as he stewed in his own thoughts, Loki didn't immediately realize that Finnulfur was addressing him. "Go. Stay. I don't care," he answered without though. "No, stay," he said a second later. He had no idea what he was doing now. No idea what he would do to Geirmund. No idea what he could do to Geirmund. "Has anything changed?"

Five pairs of eyes looked back at him – four pairs of eyes, and one eye staring vacantly, apparently done acknowledging anyone else's existence after that little performance, commanding the attention of every single person in the throne room.

"In the eyes of the law," Loki clarified. Because yes, obviously things had changed.

"No," Thor put in before Finnulfur could respond. "Your rights have not changed."

Finnulfur nodded. "That is true. Geirmund is not on trial. Your right to retribution is the only law in motion."

Good, Loki thought. At least in theory he could still hand down any legal punishment he wanted. How he was supposed to do that now, though, he didn't know. No, Geirmund hadn't made some innocent mistake, as his initial recasting had made it seem. Geirmund was not innocent. But was he as guilty as Loki had previously believed? Loki was not innocent, either. His chest tightened, breaths coming harder, resisting thoughts he did not wish to entertain.

With Loki looking somewhat appeased, if not exactly at ease, Thor took a few steps toward his father. Face slack, sitting on the steps leading to the throne, arms hanging limply at his side, Odin did not look well. Gungnir had slipped from Odin's fist and rested against the stairs. His mother looked little better, one hand rubbing her temple, but his father was his more immediate concern. A memory of standing in the Weapons Vault while Loki stared at a spot on the stairs there – and confirmed that that was where Odin had collapsed into an uncontrolled Sleep – superimposed itself onto Odin and these stairs. "Father?"

Odin blinked.

It wasn't much, but it was something. "What you just did…what you said…it was masterful. Thank you for questioning him as you did."

Thor heard a sharp breath behind him, and turned in time to see a yellow cape swirling as Loki stalked off. He glanced between his father and Loki's quickly receding form, then made his decision. He'd taken only a few steps in Loki's direction when he saw that Jane, who'd been standing apart from everyone else by that point, had done the same, and had also stopped when she saw him heading after Loki. He glanced again toward Loki, whose general destination was now clear.

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

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

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

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

"How about we both go?" she asked, reaching for Thor's hand.

Jane's hand slipped into his, and he squeezed it lightly. "Let's go."

/


/

"Loki?"

Facing into the royal study and standing in its doorway, no one could see Loki's sour expression. He'd heard the footsteps, of course. Two sets. He recognized them, the weight of them, the pace, the length of their strides…but they were off slightly, more than he would have expected for two people walking side by side. Loki had thought he was perhaps mistaken. Wishful thinking, he realized when he turned to find Jane and Thor standing there, hands just now separating. Strides were not fixed; they could be adjusted to accommodate someone of greater or lesser height attaching themselves to you.

"What did the wall do to offend you, Thor?" Loki asked, keeping his eyes fixed solely on Thor for the moment.

Jane stepped closer and peeked around Loki. Behind him was the office she'd been in just yesterday morning, after they'd gotten word that Farbauti wanted to send a delegation – of herself, as it turned out – to Asgard for the treaty-signing. But all the furniture had been removed, and other than a distinctive ornate golden clock that still hung on one wall, it was unrecognizable. The wood-paneled wall to the right was bare of decor, and scarred by a giant dent with bits of darker splintered wood in it.

"It wasn't the wall," Thor said.

Loki knew it wasn't the wall. And he knew it was very recent. He knew what it was. But when he tried to think about what Thor must be feeling, he simply couldn't. Didn't want to, wasn't able to, he didn't know, but he couldn't.

"You have some more of these, right?"

Loki finally looked at Jane, and forced himself to relax at least a little. "We have some more of them, yes." He slipped between Thor and Jane and went only as far as the next office, one typically used by Bragi when needed, though Bragi had his own office elsewhere, too. "Now then, what can I do for the two of you?" he asked once he'd settled into a chair. A part of him regretted his icy tone, but the larger part of him didn't care.

"We wanted to check on you," Thor said. He glanced at Jane, who'd slid into a chair, too, while Thor remained standing since the only other chair was behind the desk. "We thought perhaps you wouldn't want to be alone."

"We did, did we? And what was it about my decision to in fact walk away from a group, by myself, that made either of you think that I didn't want to be alone?"

"Okay, what's wrong? I mean, I can imagine some things that might be wrong, because that was quite the drama out there, but why don't you talk to us about what you're upset about instead of snapping at us?"

Thor cast a wary sidelong look at Jane. She was supposed to be the one who calmed Loki, not the one who antagonized him.

Loki glared at Jane, then more pointedly at Thor.

"I didn't say anything."

"You thanked him."

"What? Who?"

"Odin. You thanked him for his 'masterful' performance."

"It was. Weren't you listening? It was starting to sound like Geirmund killed him on accident. Like what he did was no different from what you did. No one was thinking that by the time Father was done with him."

"Yes, I was listening. I wasn't supposed to be listening. I was supposed to be in control. And then he stepped in and turned me into just another member of the audience."

"Loki, you're being ridiculous. You know—"

"Thor, I don't think calling him ridiculous is going to help anything."

"But it is ridiculous! You may as well have been sitting on the throne."

"So you would have been all right with that? I did consider it."

"No, I would not— That's not what I meant. He didn't take any power from you. The decisions were all still yours. Are all still yours. The king does not conduct the questioning. He has others who do that for him. Others who serve him in that way, so the king can listen and weigh what he hears. Father was serving you, Loki. He did that for you."

"He did it for himself," Loki shot back, relieved for the easy comeback. The rest was not easy. Not true. Or was it? He hadn't felt like he was in control. He'd strode into the throne room feeling like a king, and by the time he walked away he'd felt more like a child. The decisions had remained his. He had technically granted Odin permission to question Geirmund, and had never formally asked him to stop. It was also true that while a king, much like a magistrate, could interject questions as often as desired, others were typically tasked with delivering presentations and conducting questioning. Perhaps reality hadn't been as bad as he'd perceived it. He found his anxiousness over it drifting away. He was still anxious, though. Angry. Restless.

Jane watched as something silently ate away at Loki. From the things he'd said to her before – the guilt, the self-doubt, the questioning of his own motives – she had an idea what it probably was, and it was less about Geirmund than about himself. Watching him from the crowd, seeing the occasional flash of shock or anger break past his stony expression and not being able to say a thing, had been hard. Even now, she wasn't sure what she could say, because she was afraid he wouldn't be willing to talk about it in front of Thor. At the same time, she thought maybe he needed to talk about it with Thor, with his brother who'd been there and who had also lost a brother, and that he wouldn't be willing to do so in front of her. If she asked him who he wanted to stay, she thought there was a better than even chance he'd tell them both to go. "It didn't look like he was doing it to undermine you, at least not intentionally," she finally said. "I didn't understand what he was doing at first, when it looked like he was trying to defend Geirmund. Making him look more sympathetic."

Making him look more like me, Loki thought, before Thor cut in and drew his attention back.

"I knew what he was doing. What? You don't have to act so surprised," Thor said at the looks he got. "The way Geirmund was telling it, it was just an accident. No different from what Loki did. Or if any of us had happened to wind up with mistletoe by accident, made a weapon out of it, and threw it at Baldur. Do you know where I was that day?" Thor asked, directing the question to Jane. Loki knew, assuming he hadn't forgotten. "I'd been out on a ride, and we happened to skirt a field where this despicable weed grows with spikes on its seed pods. My first thought was to gather a sack full and throw them at Baldur. I was on my way to do just that when he died. We all did it."

"I didn't collect the mistletoe by accident."

"No," Thor agreed, after taking in Loki's monotone and blank face. "That wasn't my point. I mean to say…"

"Your father didn't want people drawing a false equivalence," Jane said when Thor faltered. "Just because two things share a feature or two in common, in this case that neither Loki nor Geirmund intended for Baldur to die, it doesn't mean they're the same. He made it clear that they're not the same. He even got Geirmund to say he wasn't sure if he wanted Baldur to die or not. Loki unequivocally did not want Baldur to die, and took steps to ensure that he wouldn't. Geirmund just…lit a match in a room filled with fuel. And walked away when it burst into flame."

"That. Yes," Thor said, giving Jane a grateful smile.

Loki shifted in his chair and rolled his eyes as soon as neither of them were looking at him. They're completing each other's thoughts. How adorable. He put a hand to his head and sent the helmet away. "That still doesn't explain how you of all people knew what Odin was doing."

Thor considered it. "I just knew. Maybe because I wanted to flatten Geirmund's head for what he was making it sound like. I knew he had to feel the same. It had to be a trap."

Loki narrowed his eyes but said nothing. Thor had known it was a trap, and he had not. Troubling. Thor's reaction had been the normal one. What Loki's had started out as, before he began seeing himself in nearly everything Geirmund said. Thor's reaction had been the rational one. And his own…

"Loki…Father wouldn't do that to you."

"You're so convinced, are you?" Loki responded instinctively.

"In these circumstances? In public? Yes. Fully convinced. Besides, didn't you see how upset he was? What he said about honor in death?" Thor paced to the other side of the office and back. "He was right. It was offensive. Geirmund wanted to think he could make up for what he'd done by selflessly serving the throne. We often do ask prisoners to rehabilitate themselves with a period of service to the throne once their punishment ends. Geirmund just thought he could skip the actual punishment. His service is…he did serve well. He was absolutely tireless during the war. Accomplished everything asked of him and more. But it's…it's as if he used us, to ease his own conscience."

"Why don't you put that down. You're indoors. And if you're getting the urge to toss more furniture around, may I remind you that Jane is present. I assume you'd rather not put a dent in her like you did the wall."

Thor shot Loki a look but dropped Mjolnir, which had begun to crackle gratifyingly in his hand. "Sorry."

"I wasn't worried."

"Only because you've never seen what happens when he brings down lightning indoors," Loki said, inspecting his fingernails.

"I wouldn't have don't that."

Jane smiled back at Thor's apologetic look. She hadn't spent much time around the brothers together, and while things were obviously contentious between them, particularly on Loki's part, she knew it could be much worse than what she was observing now.

"You didn't help matters, Loki."

Then again, Jane thought with a grimace.

"I beg your pardon? Do tell. I hardly said a word in there."

"It's like Father said—"

"Is there an echo?"

"—Geirmund wanted to find honor even in his death. He was acting so penitent, so humble, submitting to whatever was asked of him without complaint or protest, 'I swear never to lie again,' and you dangled that made-up patch for compelling truth before him, threatened him with pain and peril…he practically begged for it. The only thing he's asked for in all this. If it had been real and that thing had burned a hole through his arm or his brain, you'd have turned him into some kind of martyr."

"I was convinced he was lying," Loki said, anger ratcheting up again. "I thought that given what a little coward he is, he would take back what he said as soon as he was threatened with being forced to tell the truth."

"He isn't a coward."

Loki stood up and stared Thor down. "You're right, he's a hero."

"Cease this, Loki. You do understand that you can't divide everyone into two simple categories, don't you? Hero or coward, and that's it? You think everyone else is trying to defend him. I wasn't. No one is defending him. That wasn't even my point."

Watching as Thor turned away in anger and Loki stared hard at him with his own brand of quiet, fuming anger, Jane, who'd stood right after Loki did, slowly shifted to place herself between them. If the confrontation escalated, she hoped she'd be able to talk them down. And if words didn't do it, well, she knew neither of them would attack the other with her in the middle.

Thor calmed himself enough to continue and faced down Loki again. "He's not a coward. He's not a fool, either. He knew he was caught as soon as you realized he was in the stables. Maybe he's been tormented by guilt all this time…I don't know. I don't care. He tossed his honor aside a millennium ago when he fled Asgard, and he's trampled over it every single day since he came back and found out you took the blame and he didn't come forward and admit what he did. The only tatters left for him to cling to are in how he behaves now, after he's been caught. He wants no fault found in that. He wanted to make something noble from his tatters. The more chance he had to speak, the more chance he had to show his compliance, his humility, his repentance…his honesty. Your little game gave him another opportunity. But Father showed those tatters for the dirty rags they are."

The silence dragged, until Loki muttered in a droll tone, "How poetic. It could even be a new kenning. 'Geirmund's rags.'" He turned to Jane, speaking in a lowered voice as though sharing something between only the two of them. "For sullied honor. See how kennings work?"

Jane gave a weak nod. Figuring out forms of Asgardian poetry wasn't exactly high on her priority list right now. Not that actually explaining it to her was on Loki's. And now that she looked more carefully at Loki…yes, he was annoyed, yes, he was mad, but he didn't actually look that mad, and he'd backed off of that fast, despite the condescending edge to Thor's reference to Loki's "little game." Of course, half the words out of Loki's mouth were condescending, so maybe it just didn't bother him, but still… "You don't actually care about any of this, do you?"

"Kennings?" Loki asked after a beat of surprise. "I care deeply, Jane. They're integral to the fabric of Asgardian culture, after all."

"Mm-hm," Jane said, ignoring Loki's obstinate facetiousness and Thor's heavy sigh. "And whatever Odin said or didn't say, and whatever he may or may not have meant by it, I don't think that's your primary concern. I don't think this is about Geirmund at all." The words were chosen carefully to avoid references to reactions or emotions that Loki himself hadn't mentioned.

"What is your primary concern?" Thor asked when Loki didn't immediately respond. A servant appeared in the doorway then, and he knew Loki wouldn't respond. He impatiently signaled the woman in, and continued while she positioned her tray on a long narrow table along the wall. "If you share it, I'll do whatever I can to allay it. Or otherwise address it."

"Shall I pour, Your Majesty?"

"No, thank you. You may go."

"Those are big coffee cups," Jane said once the servant left.

Thor nodded. "We don't have your kind of mugs here. These tankards are normally for mead. This is the first time they've prepared this coffee. Any coffee. I'd forgotten we had it, in fact. I have no idea if they've prepared it properly."

With that, they all stared at each other for a long moment, until Jane finally went over to the table, picked up the pitcher – a heavy silvery thing, with a solid inner layer and an outer layer that might have been pewter, and a long curved spout that made Jane think more of tea than coffee – and filled a tankard about halfway, maybe a mug or a mug-and-a-half's worth. "Well, it smells pretty good. And they didn't make it as thick as sludge. Looks filtered, I don't see any grounds at all. Who's going to be brave?" she asked, holding the tankard out.

Thor and Loki eyed each other, before Loki rolled his eyes and looked away.

Thor then turned to Jane with a sly smile. "You are one of the bravest mortals I know. One of the bravest people I know. As well as the most qualified to test the quality of the coffee."

"And for that cheap flattery, I officially nominate you our taste-tester for the first ever coffee brewed in Asgard, made by people who don't even have a clue what it's supposed to taste like." Jane thrust the oversized mug Thor's way with a broad smirk.

With a sigh of exaggerated resignation, Thor accepted the tankard, held it up to his nose, and inhaled deeply. It did smell good. He took a small sip, then another sip, then wrinkled his nose and coughed as if he could rid himself of the drink, though he'd already swallowed it down.

"That bad?" Jane asked with a grimace.

"You are an embarrassment," Loki said just as Thor's face broke into a grin.

"It's excellent. The best I've had yet. Tony must have sent instructions with the coffee."

Jane swatted lightly at Thor's arm.

"I'd like a moment to speak with Jane."

The brief moment of levity was instantly forgotten. Loki, of course, had never joined in on the levity in the first place. Thor was conflicted, Jane saw, but ultimately looked to her. She felt bad for him. She knew he was aware of his mistakes with Loki, both the old ones and the more recent ones, and how badly he wanted to make things right between them again, how much he wanted to be able to solve Loki's problems whether he understood them or not, as part of making things right. She wanted that for him, too. But they weren't on the same page, Thor and Loki. Loki had some things he needed to make right, too, but Jane wasn't so sure Loki saw it that way, and she was very sure he wasn't willing to let Thor be a source of comfort or reassurance. If that was ever going to change, Loki wasn't going to be forced into it; he was going to have to come to it on his own. That he was willing to accept that from her was a big enough step forward. That he was willing to ask for it, if that's what he was doing, was a running leap.

"Thanks for the coffee," she said.

"You're welcome," Thor said with a warm smile that faltered a bit when he looked Loki's way. "I'll be nearby if you need me."

Loki waited a few more seconds, then went over to close the door. "In case he's too nearby," he said, back to the door.

"Maybe you should cut him a little slack?"

"Maybe you should tell him that."

"I will. You should both try to cut each other a little slack. Tensions are high, emotions are deep."

"I can't imagine why."

"Do you need me to say it again?"

"You can say it all you like. Cutting Thor slack isn't among my concerns at the moment. And I don't think I'm—"

"Sorry. I was jumping ahead. Or back. Your primary concern? It was hard, just standing there that whole time. Watching you. I wanted to stop that whole thing and tell you what I was trying to tell you when we were still in the throne room. I know a lot of what he said out there made it sound like what he did was no different from what you did. But that couldn't be further from the truth. He wasn't the same as you. Baldur's death still isn't your fault, and it still is his fault."

Loki stood there for a moment, watching Jane, letting those words sink in, and not quite knowing what to do with himself. He ran a hand through his hair, an uncharacteristic tic for an uncharacteristic moment. He forced his hand back to his side, then stepped closer to Jane with an awkward laugh, bypassing her to pour two cups, or tankards rather, of coffee. He handed one to her, then poured a little of the liquid sugar into his own.

"Strong," Jane said just as Loki brought his tankard to his lips. It wasn't espresso, but whatever process they'd used to brew it, the flavor was rich and full. "Really good, but definitely strong. Luckily, I like strong."

Loki took an initial sip, then another. The rich flavor did live up to the aroma; the quality certainly seemed high. The drink still didn't taste particularly good to him. It struck him that the coffee he'd come to enjoy once or twice a day whenever he was in the Science Lab at the Pole wasn't because he'd developed the same enthusiasm for the drink itself that Jane and Thor shared. It was Carlo brewing it in the moka coffee pot he'd brought with him from Italy, handing out steaming cups with a call for break time. It was Austin deliberately needling Carlo until they all received another lecture on how American coffee was "dirty water." Occasionally it was Wright whining about missing his French press, whatever that was – Loki hadn't asked or taken the time to look it up on the internet. It was stories of first coffees, best coffees, hated coffees – Jane hated lattes with a passion and Elliott thought decaf was barbaric. Debates over whether pumpkin spice flavored coffee was delicious or should be outlawed led to debates over whether pumpkin spice flavored anything was delicious or should be outlawed; Jane liked pumpkin spice, and Loki was curious. For some ten or fifteen minutes they would all stop what they were doing, whoever was around, and talk about coffee and random other things. In the beginning Loki had remained aloof, but by the end he'd occasionally joined in. By the end, that coffee had tasted good.

He took another sip, then set the tankard down. "You've added mind-reading to your many skills, then, Dr. Foster?" he asked, quirking his lips into a hint of a smile lest she think he was being condescending.

"Not mind-reading. Just listening. Especially to what you said last night."

"And are you sure? That we were so different? Were you also listening to what he said about being afraid? Running away out of fear? It was like hearing myself speak."

"I heard it, yes. That you experienced some of the same emotions isn't surprising. It doesn't make your actions the same. Odin may have manipulated him, and I don't think all that game-playing was necessary. But he did put everybody back on track by making the difference between you clear. You took precautions not to hurt your brother. Geirmund didn't take any precautions at all. What you did wouldn't have killed Baldur, because you made sure it wouldn't."

"I wanted to win the argument," Loki said, drifting back to last night at the site of Baldur's death.

"Yeah. Baldur had to be alive for that."

"He took that away from me. He took so much away from me."

"He did."

"I had time to think it through. To plan it. I knew exactly what I was doing."

It took only a second or two to follow Loki's changed, or rather resumed, train of thought; Jane was determined not to let him sink back into blaming himself, and seeing Geirmund as equally guilty, or even somehow less guilty, was just another way of doing that. She would argue with him all night long if she had to. "And he had more time to think over what he was doing than the split-second decision he was making it out to be. Finnulfur got him to admit it. He doesn't get a pass for that. Look, I get that your motives were complicated. But you know what? His weren't. He wanted Baldur out of the way. Maybe he didn't wake up that day thinking that meant murder. But he didn't care about Baldur in the slightest. He didn't care if he was hiding away in the palace, didn't care if he was injured, didn't care if he was dead. He just wanted him gone. You took precautions, because you cared. He didn't take any, because he didn't. It's that simple. You weren't the same."

"Was there not also love?" he could hear his mother saying as clearly as though she was standing next to him. Yes. It welled within him, what he'd been so reluctant to accept when Frigga said it, when he compared his actions to hers, his love wrapped in anger next to hers wrapped in purity. Next to Geirmund's actions, his love shone clearly through every less savory thing it had been wrapped in, brightly enough to blind him. Yes. Yes, there was also love. Tears threatened in a wave of grief as fresh as if Baldur had died yesterday. And maybe, in a way, Baldur had died yesterday. The first day Loki knew Baldur's death wasn't his fault. "Maybe it's time for you to grieve for him now," Jane told him last night. That idea, too, he'd resisted. And there, too, he'd been short-sighted. He could grieve for Baldur. He would grieve for Baldur. He would give himself permission, as Jane put it, to not pretend anymore.

But not right now. Right now, it would have to wait a little longer. He swallowed back the emotion; now was not the time to indulge in it. Not when he still had punishment to consider and announce. As much as he'd salivated over this right the instant he saw that Thor meant to grant it, now it was a burden, and one that seemed to grow more complicated at every stage. He picked up his tankard again, out of habit if not actual intent to drink any more of it, and stared at the coffee's impenetrable dark surface.

"Are you okay?" Jane asked, wrapping her hand around his forearm and squeezing as much as she could around the leather bracer. He was drifting, unguarded emotion shifting over his features, and she couldn't tell in what direction. His eyes were bright with unshed tears he was blinking away. He had all the reasons in the world to be emotional, and she didn't want to pry beyond what he was allowing. If he was still blaming himself for his brother's death, though, she needed to know, because she just couldn't let that go. He had enough to deal with. And as far as she could tell, hers was the only voice of reason he was willing to listen to. "Loki? Where are you?"

Loki lifted the tankard to his nose and inhaled deeply, letting his eyes close. The associations with the smell were strong. The Science Lab. Jane. Always Jane, whether the galley, the Science Lab, the Dark Sector Lab, the jamesway. "When I breathe this in, I can imagine I'm back at the South Pole. You're badgering me about something, and I'm patiently indulging you."

Jane shook her head and let go of his arm; he opened his eyes and gave her one of those classic smirks of his. "I think you need to get Eir to check your head, because there's something wrong with your memories."

Loki cloaked the shiver Jane's innocent comment sent through him with laughter. "How exactly did you and I wind up in Asgard's throne room drinking coffee brewed by those who'd never heard of the drink, and provided by none other than the person I hate quite possibly more than any other on Midgard? Shall we drink to irony, Jane? Is that the word for it?"

"I don't know. To either question. But we may as well drink to it." Jane clinked her glass to Loki's and they both took a drink. The coffee hadn't lost any of its heat, and Jane added these tankards to the ever-growing list of things she wanted to ask about. "Tony's not so bad, by the way. He's good at pushing buttons when he wants to, and he can be exasperating…actually you two are kind of similar that way."

"I thought we were having a nice moment. Must you go out of your way to ruin it?"

"You both have good hearts."

With a grimace Loki set his tankard down again. "I think there's something wrong with this coffee after all. My stomach is beginning to feel queasy."

"He did help save Asgard from starvation."

"He didn't do it for free, now, did he?"

"Wait…are we arguing for real?" When Loki didn't respond, Jane tried again. "Because I thought we were just joking."

"What?" Loki asked, pulled from his thoughts. "Joking. Yes, of course. Tony Stark is hardly worth arguing about. Jane…thank you. For…for this," he said, leaving it vague because he couldn't quite bring himself to draw more attention to his weakness by specifying what she had done for him.

"So…you are okay?"

"Yes. Rest assured, I know where the true guilt lies."

"Good. I'm glad."

"Would you like more coffee?" he asked. She'd drunk considerably more of hers than he had of his.

"Uhhh, no. I think a tankard will be plenty, especially for nighttime."

"In that case, I'm probably going to regret this…but if you wouldn't mind, would you send Thor back in? I need to talk to him before we resume."

"Okay," Jane said, trying to tamp down on the smile that sprang up at those words. He hadn't spoken them with anger or bitterness or anything negative at all, just his typical edge of dry humor. "You know…you both lost a brother. Maybe that's something y—"

"Jane. Please?"

"All right, all right. Sorry. I can't help it. Can I ask you something first? Not about Thor."

"Certainly," Loki answered immediately, though still warily.

"About the truth serum."

"Truth…you mean the patch? What about it?"

"You said Asgard has no means of reliably compelling truth. So Asgard does have means of unreliably compelling truth?"

"You ask this based on an adverb?"

"I ask this based on you generally choosing your words pretty carefully."

A smile spread over Loki's face. There was much to admire in Jane; sometimes he forgot just how much. "The answer is yes. But it's a tightly-held secret, one I just learned today from Finnulfur. I probably nearly shocked his heart into stillness when I held up that patch. Unfortunately, it wasn't him I was looking for a reaction from."

"That's…creepy. In so many ways."

"One word of many to describe it, yes."

Jane nodded, briefly turning it over in her head. Another thing to add to the list. Maybe to the top of the list. "I'll go get Thor."

/


/

Thor, Jane found, was lingering by himself in the corridor created along the side of the throne room by the dramatically tall orange sheers. He seemed confused at first, when she told him Loki wanted to see him, but he quickly got over it and nodded.

"Good. I wanted to see him, too. I thought I would have to argue with him. Try to convince him."

"I'm sorry he asked you to leave. I know you want to help."

"No. Don't be," he said, taking her free hand. "I mean that. You're the only one who always believed him about Baldur. I understand why he'd rather talk to you. If I stood in his boots…I don't think I'd want to listen to any of the rest of us, either. Still, I can't stop trying."

"I know. I told him to cut you some slack. He said I should tell that to you, so I am. Cut him some slack. He's going through a lot. You all are."

"He can have all the slack he needs. What?" Thor asked when Jane frowned and glanced away.

She was conflicted. She didn't want to get in the middle of Thor and Loki, but maybe it was better to say something now than let Thor lay his own minefield and stumble right into it. "Don't be critical about how he's handling any of this, okay? He's doing his best, and he is taking it seriously. It's hard for me, too, some of it. We don't have the kinds of sentences you do here. Some of that…to us, to me, it's torture. Just…if you have to disagree about his choices, try to still be supportive of him."

"Of course. I understand that."

"I, um…I'm not sure you do."

Thor drew his head back, swallowed, deliberately held back from responding until he could let go of the instinct to argue. Jane, obviously, had insights into his brother that he lacked. "What do you mean?"

"You came off a little mean about the truth serum. The truth patch."

"But he—." Loki had done something on a whim, and Thor had felt compelled to point out that it was stupid. He'd put it in different words, but whatever the exact words, he knew they hadn't been supportive, at a time when Loki unquestionably deserved – and surely needed – support. Nor had the tone behind the words been supportive. Closer to belittling, in fact, than supportive. Just three days after swearing to Loki he wouldn't behave that way anymore. He let go of Jane's hand to put a fist to his mouth. How was he to break away from such clearly ingrained habits? How was he to learn to relate to Loki honestly but respectfully? To relax, to laugh without worry of veering from brotherly jibes into demeaning insults? He didn't know the answer, but he knew one thing: he couldn't stop trying.

"I'll do better," he said. He grasped Jane's hand again and drew closer, leaning in to kiss the side of her mouth. "Thank you, Jane."

/


This chapter's been ready to go for like a week (fully edited and everything)! Weirdness in the order of doing certain things. And, similarly, I kind of just couldn't stop writing Ch. 110, to the point where it reached 25 pages and I finally went back to try to figure out where to break it. Due to flow and such, the only place to break it was on pg. 12 (well, it was that or not until around 19!), so, that means I'm already on the last scene also (almost certainly) of Ch. 111. Very likely I'll finish it tomorrow. I would say there's a chance I'll already have 110 out tomorrow, but unlike this chapter which needed very little editing, there's a fair bit of red in 110 and that will be a longer editing process. In any event, you shouldn't have to wait too long. Guest reviewer "de," I will indeed try to do my part to keep up morale (or at least provide a distraction!) in this challenging time.

Previews for Ch. 210: Thor and Loki sit in a room [sadly, not locked in]; they talk. :-) Loki's settled down, gotten his head on straight (or, well, you know, as straight as Loki's head ever gets), and we head back to the throne room for the pronouncement. But Frost Giants attack before Loki can announce his decision! Kidding about one of these things. :-)

Excerpt (there's so much red it was hard to find one I could use!):

"So I gathered. She said you had a nightmare about it. That you were being loud. That was the excuse that let me tell myself I didn't need to question my understanding of what happened. I've never known you to make much noise in your sleep."

"I wasn't that loud. The walls there are absurdly thin," Loki said in a dismissive tone. He didn't need Thor asking about that. "It came up before that. Reminded me of it. There are stories about us, from our younger years, in Norse mythology. Jane told me a few of them. Including 'The Journey and Challenges.'"

The connection wasn't instantaneous, not with only a partial title. But when it came, it came in a flood of memories. "'Of the Valiant Odinsons?'" Baldur running, Loki shoveling food into his mouth, himself drinking, and so much laughter, laughter to the point of stomach pains. A smile slid over his lips even now, and he took a long drink of coffee, savoring the drink along with the memories.