Thor Fic: "We Are Our Own Folklore" (R, Loki/Darcy, Thor/Jane), 5b/7
LINK TO BEGINNING OF CHAPTER
Steve Rogers had witnessed a lot of amazing things both during the war and after, when he had been thawed out to find himself more than half a century into the future.
But this was the first time he was looking directly at what was literally another world, and one right out of ancient man’s myths and legends at that.
He stood on the front lawn of Asgard’s palace, gazing up at the spiraling towers and domes. Everything gleamed a rich golden color in the afternoon sunlight. And Steve couldn’t stop staring, standing where he was with an impressed smile on his face.
“Well I’ll be damned.”
Tony’s voice half-shook him out of his reverie. Without turning his head Steve looked over his shoulder.
His two teammates stood there taking in the same view he was. Clint had his arms folded, silent, eyes scanning across everything while his expression remained inscrutable. Tony had stopped walking and put his hands on his hips, taking in a breath with a thoughtful sound.
“You know, all those times the Viking wonder went on about the glories and majesty of home, I had mostly figured the reality couldn’t possibly live up to the way he made it sound.”
A faint grin bloomed on Steve’s face. Tony hadn’t blinked once; though he was hardly slack-jawed with wonder, considering how much effort he usually went to appear jaded, it meant something that he was begrudgingly letting on that he had been impressed.
“Come on,” Clint broke in. “We can sight-see later. Maybe there’s gift shop somewhere that has postcards.”
He jerked his head, indicating the platoon of Asgardian soldiers that were following them.
“Not that I’m on a timetable, but I’m betting these guys would appreciate it if we didn’t make them stand here for too long.”
Steve turned around more fully to take in the armored men who appeared perfectly stoic, despite the fact that all of them were weighted down by the visitors’ luggage.
When the three Earthmen had arrived at the end of the Bifrost, they had been greeted by a large somewhat intimidating man in golden armor (Steve had just barely caught Tony muttering something about a “resemblance to Nick Fury” under his breath). They had then been turned over to the soldiers who were there to escort them across the bridge, and who’d offered to carry their belongings for them.
Steve had politely demurred, and with minimal effort lifted one of his bags up onto his shoulder, carrying the other dangling freely from one hand.
He had however been the only one out of the three. Tony swept an impassive glance across the no less than five Asgardians his own crates and bags had been distributed among.
“Guess Arrowhead’s got a point,” he remarked. “After all we’re going to be here for a while. No sense in dawdling.”
Steve took one last look up at the skyline. His mind wandered to the sketchbook and pencils tucked away in the bag he carried with his right hand.
Hopefully at some point over the next few weeks there would be time between celebrations to sit down somewhere and draw; to try and capture all this on paper. It was an opportunity that would be a shame to miss.
They were led inside the palace and found an interior that matched the outside in grandeur and splendor. Before any of them could think to ask ‘What next?’, Thor appeared to greet them.
“My friends,” he called. He moved toward them and Steve set down his bags to free himself up for the acceptance of a clasped hand. “It is so good to see you again. I trust your journey went well?”
“Piece of cake,” Clint replied. “Not that Stark didn’t make enough jokes about transporter accidents and molecules scattered all across the universe.”
“It made Bruce laugh,” Tony returned mildly, unrepentant. He looked around with a whistle. “Boy, he is going to be so sorry he missed out on this.”
“Someone had to stay behind just in case we were actually needed for defense,” Steve reminded him. “We should be glad he and Agent Romanoff volunteered. Otherwise we might’ve had to draw straws.”
Thor’s smile, Steve realized belatedly, was not quite as cheerful as it should have been. Absently he commanded the servants to take the men’s things to their rooms, before turning back to his friends.
“It is my deepest regret to tell you all that you arrive to find circumstances not as pleasant as they should be.”
“What’s the matter, big guy, trouble in paradise already?” Tony cracked. “Something between you and the soon to be Mrs. The Mighty Thor? You guys are a full year away from even heading down the aisle; I thought that kind of trouble wasn’t supposed to crop up until at least after the honeymoon-”
“Tony,” Steve cut him off, soft but firm, “stop.”
Reflexively Tony gave a petulant scowl, but he fell silent as his eyes drifted over to Thor. As the other man had been speaking the Asgardian’s face had turned wan, grim.
“Indeed,” Thor murmured, “it does have to do with Jane. And there are other matters as well…”
“Whatever it is, you know if we can, we’ll do anything to help,” Steve promised.
“Would that I could pass on your generous offer, the truth is I have great need for your aid,” Thor told them. “Loki has been missing for more than a fortnight.” He swallowed. “There is…some fear that harm may have come to him. Wherever in the Nine Realms he has gone to, he must be found.”
“Of course,” Clint noted, dryly. “Things go wrong, figures Loki would be caught in the middle of it.”
“No kidding,” Tony chimed in. “Guy worked his way off of the list for our rogues’ gallery and he’s still finding ways to cause us problems.”
Steve didn’t add any words of his own on the situation. He remained silent, a prickle of anxiety in his gut.
Thor’s eyes sought out his and he rested one hand on Steve’s shoulder.
“I know out of all the Avengers you are the one my brother is closest to; that he considers you a friend. Though I can’t say with certainty Loki’s hands are clean in this, I will come to no conclusions until there has been more proof.” His gaze was beseeching. “Please, will you lend me your strength in bringing him home again?”
“Of course, Thor,” Steve said earnestly, with no hesitation.
He had been looking forward to spending some time with Loki almost as much as he had anything - the thought something might’ve happened to him made Steve pretty concerned himself.
“Just let me know where and when you want me.”
“Well now we’re in too; can’t be letting Captain Boy Scout make the rest of us look bad.” Off his relaxed, half-serious remark Tony looked over to Clint. “And you said I was being silly for insisting we pack our gear and outfits.”
Clint gave a loud sigh. “What I actually said was that hopefully it would be a waste of time, because we shouldn’t have any reason to need them.”
Tony pointed. “There you go,” he said in his most infuriatingly reasonable tone. “You shouldn’t have said that. Basically, you jinxed us.”
Steve had no choice but to give a weary laugh at that. He hated to admit it, but Tony was probably right.
*
Accompanied by his friends, dressed for both travel and battle alike should it be encountered, Thor led the way once more to the Bifrost’s end point.
An odd sight they must make, he mused. To one side noble warriors of Asgard bedecked in armor. To the other a cluster of mortals in dress he knew could at times seem outlandish even on Midgard.
Thor charged down the rainbow road, making fast time astride his horse. Sif, Hogun and Fandral rode slightly behind him in a spear-point formation, and betwixt them was Captain Rogers in the red, white and blue raiment that served as his mail, shield on his back, handling the horse he’d been lent with decently admirable proficiency.
Hawkeye was uninterested in a horse and had without objection deigned to ride behind Sif on hers. Strong arms wrapped around her waist, he leaned forward with her balance so his weight would not be a hindrance, quiver full of arrows prepped and ready where it slung across his shoulders.
And above all their heads was a streak of red and gold as the Man of Iron matched their pace effortlessly, no doubt restraining the limits of his glorious mechanical armor so he did not beat his companions to their destination.
Thor had filled his human friends in on everything best he could when he wished to spare no time for details. Jane’s strange behavior, the bad blood between Loki and their aunt, some of his brother’s behavior before he had vanished.
They seemed to act as though they understood, or perhaps they merely went along, feeling it more important that they help him. In truth Thor couldn’t care which it was, so long as it granted him aid.
His warrior companions too had been apprised of the circumstances, the parts they didn’t already know. Though he was forced to keep them in the dark as to what secret it was exactly Nanna had become privy to, he was able to somewhat vaguely imply she could possibly threaten the family’s reputation, and luckily they accepted this without asking any further questions.
Even with the addition of the Avengers their party seemed lopsided without Volstagg there to complete the Warriors Three. But though they could’ve used every hand, Thor hated to pry him away from his wife and newborn son at such an intimate time. Though his old friend certainly would’ve joined had Thor asked, he preferred not to cause that discomfort.
Reaching the observatory, they brought their horses to a halt and dismounted. Agent Barton had just successively finished propelling himself from the saddle without entangling any limbs in the stirrups when Stark landed in front of them with a resounding clank.
“So remind me again how this works,” he asked in his resonant voice, the sound of his armor’s flight devices dying away. “Master of finding back and side doors that he is, Loki could’ve gotten out about any possible way. Yet here we are checking in with the guy who runs the most obvious toll booth.”
“Heimdall is more than merely a gate guardsman, good Sir Anthony,” Fandral corrected him, glib. “He sees and hears all. It’s why he was given the task of guarding the road into Asgard.”
“With his far-reaching sight, he might have seen how Loki left, or where it is he is hiding now,” Thor determined.
“That is assuming Loki hasn’t hidden himself using magic,” Sif put in, quietly. “He has done it before. When he doesn’t wish to be found.”
Thor drew a breath. “Even if Heimdall can tell us nothing, if he can’t find Loki we can infer from that that my brother left of his own volition. So at the very least, we have one answer.”
“Okay then,” Stark said with remarkable aplomb. “Whatever you say, Goldilocks. It’s your rodeo.”
“Goldilocks?” Fandral repeated in a muttered aside to Hogun, baffled. Hogun merely shrugged, not understanding the reference any better than his fellow.
Heimdall held his usual placement, sword in hand, eyes gazing past those in front of him into the distance. When Thor and the others came nearer he drew up, filling his great lungs with air.
“My prince,” he greeted. “I have been wondering when the search for answers would bring you to my side.”
“Well this is off to an encouraging start,” Fandral noted, sounding pleased.
Thor took a moment to collect himself, as unsettled as he was made hopeful by the implication that the watcher had been waiting for him.
“Heimdall,” he announced, “my brother, Loki, has for some weeks past not been found within the halls of Asgard.”
Heimdall did not move a muscle. There was not a flicker in the path of his golden eyes. “I know.”
An invisible fist began to squeeze Thor’s heart as his hope soared. “Then can you tell me where he has gone? Where he is now?”
Heimdall’s voice was solemn as he stated, “I cannot.”
Thor frowned intensely. “You mean to say you cannot see him?”
“I mean that I cannot tell you if Loki walked this way or not, nor can I tell you for certain in what realm he may be found.”
Thor’s shoulders dropped. He looked down at the carved crystal path beneath his feet.
“Thank you, Heimdall,” he said quietly, after a moment, forcing his head to rise so he could respectfully meet the gatekeeper’s eyes as he nodded.
Heimdall didn’t nod back, or say anything. His mouth pressed harder into a line.
Silence was usually Heimdall’s way so Thor didn’t read anything into it. He turned away from the guardian to face his friends.
“If he’s cloaked from Heimdall’s sight, we can only assume Loki’s flight from Asgard was a purposeful one,” he said, unhappy but resolute. “This changes some things, but he must still be found.”
“There must be some other way to track him,” Captain America said.
“We may need to ask the All-Father,” Hogun responded.
“Hang on just a second.”
Everyone’s eyes automatically moved to Barton, surprised, as the agent interrupted. There was a blank look on his face as he watched Heimdall, his arms crossed, a slight crease of contemplation formed in his brow.
“Why did he say it like that? He never told you he couldn’t see Loki. Not in any certain words.”
Thor blinked. “Does it matter?”
“Yes,” Sif chimed in slowly, thoughtful. “It does.” She took a step forward, looking up to her half-brother. “Heimdall made a point to say he cannot tell us where Loki is.”
She readdressed her words to Heimdall, “But never did you say that you did not know.”
“I did not,” Heimdall affirmed, peaceably.
“What is this,” Iron Man demanded, “some kind of riddle? See, this is exactly why I hate playing around with magic and sorcerers. One poor choice of words later and you’ve been turned into a newt.”
“A newt?” Fandral exclaimed, mystified.
“I got better.” No doubt keeping a straight face was especially easy when it was concealed by a mask.
Thor ignored his friends’ bickering. “What is the meaning of this trickery?” he asked Heimdall, trying and failing not to grown impatient. “Heimdall, why do you not give us a straight answer? It is your duty to lend aid to Asgard whenever she may require it. And we need you now.”
“And I am doing my best to obey, I promise you,” Heimdall said, “within the confines of my duty. I am doing all that I can.”
“But you cannot tell me whether or not you have seen Loki.”
“No, my prince. I regret to inform you that I cannot.”
Bitterly Thor gave a scoff. “Then what help can you give to me? What force compels Heimdall the Gatekeeper to hold his tongue?”
“Thor,” Rogers held up one hand, indicating he should try calming down, “maybe that’s exactly the question we need to be asking.” He too took a step forward, addressing Heimdall in a clear, respectful voice. “Did someone order you not to talk about whether you had seen Loki?”
Not one muscle changed in Heimdall’s posture. Yet somehow there was the sense he had given a slight sigh of relief. “Yes.”
Thor was shocked. “Who could have done this? The only high command you should answer to is that of my father!”
“I swear fealty to the All-Father and whoever holds the crown of Asgard,” Heimdall replied. “But throughout my many years, that is not the only oath I have sworn.”
Sif exhaled with a gasp.
“Lady Freya.” She looked at the others, stricken. “She earned an oath of a single favor at the beginning of the war with the Frost Giants.”
“But you don’t think…” Thor trailed off, mind racing.
The pieces still didn’t fit entirely right for him. More so, even the beginnings of what this was hinting seemed too disturbing to consider. It was an act just shy of treason.
“You said your one aunt works for the other,” Stark reminded him. “If Nanna wanted Loki gone, and Freya had the key to doing that, wouldn’t she arrange it for her?”
“So what are we saying?” Fandral put in. “That somehow Loki was coerced into leaving, and Lady Freya made Heimdall swear not to tell anybody?”
“It seems like a great way to have covered up the tracks,” was Hawkeye’s opinion.
“Yes,” Sif agreed, looking grim, “it certainly does.”
“Look on the bright side, Thor,” Rogers told him softly, noting the aghast look on Thor’s face. “It means Loki didn’t run away after all. This wasn’t his choice.”
“Yes,” Thor agreed slowly, taking a small amount of courage. “You’re right. Though that means we must have greater concerns for his safety.”
He turned back to Heimdall once more.
“Heimdall. Confirm this for me. You were honor bound by Freya of Vanaheim not to reveal if my brother had used the Bifrost.”
“Correct,” Heimdall stated.
“Nor, because of your word to her, can you now tell us where he may presently be found.”
“Correct.”
Thor considered the matter hard. Finally, with careful precision, he inquired, “But Heimdall. Can you not use the Bifrost to take us to the same place?”
A feeling of approval seemed to emanate from the ancient warrior.
“That,” he informed Thor with great pleasure, “I most certainly can do.”
He turned and went inside, not looking back to see if they would follow as he sheathed his sword in the center platform, causing the air to electrify as the Bifrost readied itself.
“See,” Stark remarked, deadpan. “That wasn’t so hard.”
“We must move quickly,” Hogun said, terse, the first to walk his way through the observatory’s awning.
“Oh right, I forgot.” Stark followed after him without missing a beat. His metallic footsteps rang oddly against the space’s floors. “You’re the fun one.”
“What do you think, Thor?” Captain Rogers asked. “It’s your play. Should we all go, or does someone need to run back to the palace and let them know what’s up?”
Thor swiftly shook his head. “There’s no telling where Loki may be, what enemies or kind of trouble he may have found. I would rather be as prepared as we can be, even if it means those still on Asgard will have to worry a bit longer.”
Fandral had already run inside the Bifrost, not waiting for Thor’s word. At his decision, both Sif and Barton nodded and went in to the outer ring as well.
Captain America met his eyes. “Okay,” he told Thor, accepting his decision. Side by side the two of them entered. Though his friend was bold in battle Thor didn’t think it imagination that Rogers seemed slightly apprehensive as he glanced around.
“One more trip across the universe. Gotta tell you, I’m not sure I entirely trust how this thing handles,” he admitted.
Thor laughed. “Fear not, my friend!” He patted him on the back. “The Bifrost has been standing in faithful service for many eons.”
“And you and your brother tore it apart fairly recently in a smackdown drag-out fight,” Hawkeye spoke up dryly from his point.
“True,” Thor had to admit. But his confidence never wavered. “But it was rebuilt strong as ever, with guidance from the wisdom of my Jane.”
“Oh sure,” went Stark, ever one to get the last word in. “Make it so we can’t distrust the Bifrost without dissing your fiancée.”
Thor knew better than to respond to that with anything but a quiet chuckle. Anyway, it wasn’t what was important. He had his allies at his back and they were on their way to find his brother.
He had to have faith that whatever came next, together they were more than equipped to deal with it.
Hang fast, Loki, Thor thought as the white lighting hit and everything began to blur. We are coming for you.
*
Yet more time had come and gone on Svartalfheim. The troupe of entertainers continued their travels, leaving behind villages for grander cities as they grew and grew in notoriety.
It could be days at a time before after leaving one stop they arrived at the next. Their caravan took them through long stretches of countryside down dirt roads, and past less affluent towns where Nezzori no longer took interest in scheduling a performance.
It meant they were seeing more of the realm. For that, Loki was grateful. But though he searched and searched, wearing himself thin casting scrying charms and weaving layers of divination, he’d yet to find the path that could take him home.
And now their travels were taking them further south, closer to the equator and closer to the sea.
The season wasn’t changing. But it was growing warmer by the day.
Loki had for the most part adjusted to his Jotun body. He found no pleasure in it, and could only look on his reflection with resigned dislike, but he understood its necessity. To maintain Throkk’s identity and form served him well for the time being.
But his needs and limits were that of a pure-blooded Frost Giant. The hot weather was beginning to suffocate him.
More than that, Loki disliked keeping the same shifted form for so long. Especially this one: for it drew not on magic as the source of his disguise but his own tainted nature. He understood he was a changeling but frankly, he knew not the finer details of how everything ‘worked’, what it meant for him when the balance shifted.
He’d never taken on Jotun form fully and held it like this before. There was a niggling fear at the back of his mind: what if he couldn’t change back?
The next time they stopped Loki kept his eyes out for a time when he was left completely alone to his own devices. He got his opportunity that very afternoon.
By now Throkk didn’t have to share quarters with the other girls - she’d been given her own small tent to sleep and keep her possessions in. Loki instructed Balder to stand guard at front outside, to not let anyone in for any reason.
Then he went to the area he had for washing up, gripping the basin with both hands as he leaned forward at the waist, staring intently at his own reflection.
His hair was lank and undecorated, clinging to the back of his neck. He wore one of his dancing costumes, a triangle-shaped top paired with loose low-slung pants. The air felt thicker in the heat, clinging to his body, humid. He was a little lightheaded and his skin was clammy and damp, almost like he was melting.
Loki breathed in through his nostrils, stifling a moan as he lifted his hair up and tugged at it. He needed relief. If only for a little while.
Gathered up cold water between his hands he splashed his face, letting the droplets run down the rest of his bared skin. Then he removed his top and stood there, naked to the waist, focusing as he let it begin.
First he did what he considered the easier part and let go of his seiðr, changing from a woman back to a man. Beneath the veneer of leathery blue skin and ember eyes his chest flattened, shoulders broadened and the curves of his legs and hips disappeared, as the shape of his face changed and his hair seemed to grow backwards.
Loki glanced down at his now more muscular forearms, still bearing the raised lines that marked a Jotun. He looked at the black claw-tipped hands that rested on the white porcelain basin.
With a faint shudder he exhaled, slow and deep. Squeezing his eyes shut he reached inside himself and willed what he wanted to happen.
He pictured his Asgardian form. Traced memories of how it felt, with softer skin and warmer flesh, how the world looked through vision less adapted to the dark, and his food went down differently when his body no longer demanded it cold. When he had teeth instead of fangs, and green eyes instead of red.
Let it be, Loki recited over and over. Let it happen. Let it be.
And in the faintest mental whisper he added, Please.
There was a spreading heat all over that started in his belly, a warmth like stepping into a ray of sunshine, and Loki opened his eyes full of triumph and greatest relief to watch as the last shadows of blue were chased away from his face.
An astonished gasp caught his attention immediately. Loki spun around, nerves raised.
Balder stood there gaping at him, eyes wide, color drained from his face.
“I asked you to keep watch at the entrance,” Loki snapped, aggravated for the sudden unnecessary scare.
Balder didn’t seem to hear him. He kept right on staring. “You were telling the truth,” he said, stilted. “You really are my cousin!”
Loki stepped towards him, rubbing the back of his neck absently. “Of course I am, why would you even have to ask-”
He stopped, eyes jumping to Balder as he was struck by realization.
“You didn’t believe me,” he stated, astounded.
Slowly Balder shook his head. “No. Of course not. Can you blame me? True sorcerers on Asgard are rare, and what are the odds that my cousin, a prince of Asgard, would not only have reached those heights but also just happen to be wandering on Svartalfheim, disguised, and cross paths with me by accident?”
And to think Loki had chalked it up to Balder being gullible.
No; he had taken in the unlikelihood of the situation perfectly, and judged it to be highly doubtful. Loki underestimated him greatly.
“No wonder you never asked me any questions,” he realized out loud. “You didn’t want to waste time because you figured it’d all be lies.”
“Yes.” Balder nodded. “I didn’t want you to think I suspected anything.”
Loki frowned, at a loss. “But if you didn’t believe I was who I claimed, then why have you been going along with me?”
“You said you could get me back to Asgard. After all this time…I figured, so long as there was a chance-”
“But I could have been lying about that as well,” Loki exclaimed, incensed. He had been too quick to let Balder off the hook for being foolish - if anything, he was even more trusting and naïve than Loki had first thought. “On some vague hope, you thought it wise to put your life in the hands of a stranger, with intentions unknown to you and who you believed already misled you? Oh, for Nidhogg’s sake - how stupid could you be!”
Balder went sheepish in the face of Loki’s outburst. “I’m not a child anymore. I thought if anything happened I could handle it.”
“A child would make a similar claim,” Loki retorted, scoffing with disbelief. “The centuries passed have clearly done nothing for your common sense.”
Balder was gazing at him still, oddly. “Maybe so,” he acknowledged, quiet.
For a moment they just looked at each other, uncertain, uncomfortable. There’d been a perceptible shift in the air. It occurred to Loki things had changed now, that Balder actually knew who he was and truly believed in it. What this meant though he couldn’t predict.
Loki stayed where he was, head held evenly, waiting, as Balder looked him up and down.
“You grew tall,” Balder noted at length, and Loki almost laughed at the innocent observation. “And you…filled out, more than I would’ve expected. In my memories I have a vague sense of a cousin who was something of a beanpole.”
“I still look to be something on the scrawny side, if you put me next to Thor,” Loki remarked wryly. “If you think I’ve gotten big, wait until you see him.”
There was a pause as Balder’s face screwed up in consternation before he blurted out, “How is Thor?” It sounded as though it had just occurred to him he should wonder.
“Oh, where to begin?” Loki folded his arms, shifting his weight idly. “He still isn’t king, yet. He is however getting married.”
“Oh,” Balder said, quiet. He looked down. “How good for him.” He struggled with what to say next, before offering up, “She must be very lovely.”
“She is.” And gifted. And mortal. But Loki said neither of those things, holding his tongue.
He watched the expression on Balder’s face, the other man still looking at his own toes. In his estimation it seemed it had hit his cousin how much time had really passed - how much had changed, life on Asgard going on without him.
Loki wouldn’t have expected it of himself, but suddenly he felt very sorry for Balder.
“You were missed,” Loki promised him, softly, earnest. “Asgard mourned you as one of its greatest losses.”
“Greater than one of the legendary heroes who shaped the realm, or the soldiers whose blood spilt on the field of honor?” Balder remarked. “I was a boy; I did nothing extraordinary. Who was I, that Asgard deemed me so important?”
He was at a loss, and Loki realized it was a genuine question. Balder still didn’t really remember anything. He had no sense of who he was, and by now the mystery must have plagued him.
“You are Balder the Bright,” Loki told him. Moving closer he cupped a hand against his cousin’s neck, trying to lend him strength through the gesture. “Balder the Beautiful. Only son of Frey and Nanna, a lord of Vanaheim and a warrior of Asgard. You are brave, compassionate, honorable and true.”
Loki realized he wasn’t only repeating what he knew the rest of Asgard would say. He was speaking the truth; the truth he saw in his own memories, now he looked back on them in a clearer, different light. And the truth he’d learned from spending time with this Balder, half-formed though he was.
He continued, “You are a friend to many and admired by all. And when you died,” his voice caught; “When you were murdered-”
Balder was looking straight at him, eyes open and emotive and pleading. Loki couldn’t stand it.
He pulled his hand away, moving back out of reach. “Do you remember anything, about how you died?”
“Yes,” Balder said quietly. “Not…like I was there, but - it was you, wasn’t it?” He was more thoughtful than accusing. “I can’t explain it, but somehow I remember that…it was you.”
One of Loki’s hands clenched into a fist as he held it near the knot in his stomach. “Yes. But I wasn’t trying to…it was never my intention to end your life. Surely anyone should have known…”
The words wouldn’t come. All his reasonable defenses, his arguments, his protests, they died on his lips with Balder standing there in front of him, hair white like a shade and looking so destitute and lost.
That guilt that had been a weight on his shoulders, that had been making him sick to his stomach, refused to go ignored and unnamed any longer.
Loki drew a breath and swallowed to keep his voice from shaking.
“I’m sorry,” he choked out. “I’m so sorry. I was jealous and angry and spiteful and I wanted to hurt you. I-”
Balder raised a hand, asking for silence. “It was an accident, wasn’t it? And it was so very long ago.” He gave Loki a faint smile. “And you aren’t out to harm me anymore, since all you’ve been doing is helping me. I forgive you.”
Loki’s voice was hoarse. “It isn’t supposed to be that easy.”
Balder frowned. “Why not?” he asked, genuinely puzzled.
“Because it’s not. That isn’t how these things work. When you do something wrong, things change, forever. They leave a mark that can be seen, and do what you will they will never go back!” Loki broke off in a near-hysterical shout.
He turned, half putting his back to Balder, not wanting to show his face as he breathed heavily, eyes wild.
Tentatively Balder came at him, hand outstretched.
“What’s become of you?” he asked after a moment, hushed and sounding very sad. “It can’t just be me. There’s a shadow that hangs over you now that I’ve noticed. You’re so serious. I think you’re much quieter than I remember.” There was regret in his voice; maybe he knew more than he actually realized. “What happened to the trickster that made Asgard such a lively place?”
“He grew up, and tired of being everyone else’s jester,” Loki muttered bitterly. “He wanted to be taken seriously, to be noticed, to be seen for what he was: just as good as the rest of them.” He breathed in a wet hiss. “But he reached too far.”
He spun away from Balder’s hand and wandered across the length of his quarters over to the bed, sitting down on it because his legs felt numb, like they could no longer support him.
And again Balder followed. He waited, probably expecting Loki to order him to leave. But Loki said nothing. He laced his fingers tightly and brought them in front of him, bowing so his knuckles dug into his forehead as he shut his eyes.
Realizing a dismissal wasn’t coming, with gradual movements as if approaching a wounded animal, Balder lowered himself so he sat next to Loki on the bed, less than an arm’s length between them.
“Cousin, please. Won’t you tell me what happened?”
“I’m not your cousin,” Loki bit out. He didn’t lift his head, bending further in on himself. “No more than I am Thor’s brother, or Odin’s son. I might as well tell you, because if I take you back to your mother I’m sure she’ll let you know the truth. I was not born of Asgard, but of Jotunheim. That’s why I have always been the outcast - I am a Jotun monster.”
For a very long pregnant pause Balder said nothing. No doubt he was struggling to believe it, to comprehend.
“But I don’t understand. What does that have to do with-?”
“I never knew. I never knew, but then I found out and I, I…I was already so mad at Thor. At Father. I had been rejected, and cast aside, one time too many.” Loki’s muscles tightened, his teeth grit. “But finding out why I was unworthy to be Odinson? It burned a hole through me. It felt like I was destined to suffer, and if so be it, then I wanted all to suffer along with me. It was only fair.”
Balder’s voice was muffled with fear. “What did you do?”
Loki lifted his shoulders as he inhaled, anger gone in an instant to be replaced by regret, and sorrow. “Oh, I tried to kill Thor. I…did a hundred wicked and shameful things. Forgive me if I don’t want to list all of them. I left Asgard; I banished myself. For what felt like a very long time, I wandered. I don’t know now that I could say what my goal truly was.”
Balder was speechless, which was probably for the best. Loki dropped his hands enough that his face could be revealed.
He realized his mouth was trembling. That his throat was sore with the tears wanting to come.
“I know that I did wrong. I can never argue that. But though I am blessed enough to be forgiven, at times forgiveness seems like the worst punishment of all.”
“How so?” Balder asked him, numbly.
Loki shook his head, twitching. “I am home. But nothing is the way it’s supposed to be. No one trusts me. I wouldn’t mind, but my own family…I see the way they look at me. I am quiet for too long, and they worry about the nature of my thoughts.”
He struggled to breath, to speak evenly. The pile he had so long been holding back, precarious and uneasy, was finally upset. The things he’d bee refusing to say to anyone came tumbling out.
“Father is so afraid of upsetting me, that he treats me like I’m an invalid. No matter what I do he won’t speak out against it. But does he think such distance is better than disapproval? And Mother…she tries not to cling, but she’s haunted. All she wants is to hold fast as if at any moment I’ll disappear.”
He raised his chin, rueful. “Thor spends his time worrying about my happiness. He won’t let himself disagree with me. One angry word and then his mouth shuts tight, like argument is all it takes to set us at odds. Before I complained he ignored me, so now he thinks it his responsibility to see I’m never alone.”
He pictured the nervous, searching looks he always saw in his family’s eyes. They couldn’t even pretend for him, not really. They were waiting, watching for a sign, expecting him to repeat his mistakes.
At the thought Loki’s voice finally broke. Full of raw misery his arms crossed, hands clutching at opposite shoulders.
“It’s like this every single day.” He shook his head. “Much as I hated how things were before, sometimes I wish it could go back. That in a way it was better then.”
When his grievances were still shut tight inside - when he was ignorant to what he had to lose, to how bad things could become. He drew in, hugging himself tighter.
“But it will never be like that. We are broken, and will never again be whole. And this is my fault,” he gasped out with a miserable certainty. “It’s all because of my mistakes. I ruined everything.”
He missed Asgard so much. This was the first since his being accepted back that he’d been gone for so long, and not of his own volition. The longest time without seeing his friends and family.
The soul-deep pain of loss and longing that he denied himself during his outcast period was now his for the taking. He was free to pine, free to admit how upset he was over what was beyond his reach. In a way it was better to truly feel his sorrow, not pushing it away for reasons of resentment and pride.
But the distance too made clearer how miserable his current circumstances on Asgard were. His daily struggle at trying to make himself fit the space he left behind, only to be thwarted at every turn because both he and the people around him had changed.
It was selfish to want things to be like they had before, utter selfishness; to be loved or at least tolerated, like he had never done the things that he had done.
Knowing that however wasn’t enough to take the desire from him. It ate him up with despair.
As Loki sat there, breathing shallow and unhappy, suddenly he felt Balder press a warm hand into the space between his shoulders, arm moving around in an embrace.
He lifted his head to see Balder watching him with gentle sympathy.
“I know it must be difficult. It certainly doesn’t sound as if you, or the others, have been through an easy time.” His words were calm and soft, but backed by the strength of conviction. “But I think, if you give them time, they will only get better. Right now you are making your amends. It will be a struggle, but things only go uphill from here.”
Balder hesitated, gathering and trying to form his thoughts.
“I know I must seem to you like I’m in no position to give advice,” he admitted. “I am not a king, or a sorcerer. I know nothing of justice or the way the world works. I know next to nothing about myself, so how could I be capable of judging others?”
He had such resolute, easy confidence. Neither forceful nor wheedling. It simply was.
“But from what I’ve seen, I don’t think it’s your lot to suffer, Loki. You don’t deserve it.” Balder lowered his head to make certain their eyes met. “You are not an evil person.”
“It seems you haven’t been listening to a word I’ve said,” Loki said in response to that, hoarse.
Balder only shook his head. “You are a…restrained person. For the most you mind your own business. But I’ve watched you all this time. You can be compassionate, generous. And you are anything but cruel.”
“Oh, but I can be. When the spirit moves me to it.”
“I’ll have to take your word on it - I haven’t seen it yet.” Balder offered up a faint smile, his eyes bright. “I think whatever it is you want, or need, on Asgard, you’re going to get it. You only need wait for it. Have courage, and patience. I know you lack for neither of those.”
“I suppose it can be managed,” was Loki’s feeble reply. He could feel moisture on his face where a few errant tears had fallen but he did not move to immediately wipe them away.
Somehow, without being fervent, without being overly persuasive, Balder had managed to bask him in the light of encouragement. He’d offered up neither judgment nor pity, only simple and straightforward words. But he believed in them so wholeheartedly, and that earnest belief was his strength.
What unexpected depths lay beneath such a humble surface. With gentle praise and the right soft-spoken entreaties, it was easy to imagine Balder could lead an army of men anywhere.
Was this what it felt like, Loki wondered, to be on the receiving end of Balder’s approval in the past? Was this the light and shining warmth that drew everyone to him, made them seek out his friendship?
If so, Loki could see why he had been so beloved. He regretted it that he never before experienced it for himself. How different things might have been, if instead of scorning Balder and keeping a distance, he had come closer and found out what he really was missing. The real reason for admiring him and putting him up on a pedestal.
But it was too late now. Such chances were long gone, and it would be too sentimental and pointless to mourn them.
Loki looked to his cousin and gave him a thin but effected smile. “Thank you,” he told him.
Balder drew his hand away, squeezing his shoulder in passing. “You’re welcome. But I only told you what I thought was the truth.”
“I know,” Loki assured. “That was why it meant so much to me.”
He stood up, roughly scrubbing at his face with a flicking gesture from the back of his hand.
“What time is it? It must be getting close to evening by now. I need to change.”
“You should probably put a shirt back on,” Balder agreed, easily.
Loki gave him a hard incredulous look, and Balder jumped.
“Oh! You mean…changed.” He got to his feet as well, embarrassed, gesturing randomly at Loki’s body. “Back into your other form.”
“I certainly hope so,” Loki said ironically. “I think it will be quite a disappointment to Nezzori if he doesn’t get what he expects.”
Balder gave a nervous laugh, almost a giggle. “I left something out in my earlier observations, cousin,” he noted. “You are also a strange man.”
Loki shrugged at that, not the least bit offended.
“Is that such a surprise? I was a strange child,” he observed. “It’s natural my oddities would only increase with time.”
“I suppose so,” Balder concurred after only a moment’s thought.
And to think there had been a time when the two of them had seemed like oil and water. Yet there they were, accepting each other’s limitations without much hesitance at all.
And Loki found it a circumstance not at the least unpleasant.
*
Amora was feeling terribly bored. Not to mention simply in a bad mood in general.
Her room in the palace was filled with presents she’d been given, trinkets she’d commissioned, and offerings she’d demanded, and as she sulked prettily on an embroidered couch, she was surrounded by serving girls and lesser noblewomen there for the purpose of attending to her beauty treatments or offering up occasional prompted commentary on how flawless she looked.
Such attentions did not flatter her. She felt they were the minimum courtesy of what she deserved.
It was unfortunate enough, she thought, that she’d had to exchange her own body - with both its own natural gifts and hard-won magical enhancements - for the demonstrably inferior one of that doleful mortal woman. With a little effort it could be made to look…presentable, but she felt sour every time she looked in the mirror.
But ultimately it was a small and acceptable price for what it gave her. Thor on her arm, and Asgard’s crown. All she had to do was sit back, wait, and let it happen. No need to even snap her fingers, for it was coming to her.
The most powerful and handsome man as her plaything, and the riches of the Nine Realms at her feet. Finally, after all this time, it would be hers. It was all she’d ever wanted.
Well, no: not ‘all’. But certainly the most significant thing she ever desired.
Not to say that it’d been entirely simple. Oh, be-spelling sweet, gullible Thor was exactly as easy as she remembered; and as had been promised to her beforehand, by the time she was in place Loki was already out of the way.
The hard part was avoiding the All-Father, or anyone else who might either sense her magic or suspect something from her behavior. At times, now, that took some cleverness.
But as things stood at present there’d been plenty of distractions to rely upon. And if worse came to worse, well, Thor could be so accommodating. In his current state it took little nudging from her for him to give whatever orders she wished.
And that would have been all well and good…except now Thor was gone.
It was her understanding he had left Asgard, right in the middle of his own engagement celebration, accompanied by a distinctly odd pack of companions. Rumor had it he was looking for his wayward brother.
It was very untoward and unexpected, and therefore quite baffling for everyone.
And for Amora, it had thrown her into a state of pique.
When Thor came back with Loki - well, if he actually did - she would deal with that as it arose. In the past she’d used both princes against each other quite fluidly, there was no reason she couldn’t do it again.
But in the meantime what was the fun of being a princess in all but name without her favorite obedient servant, the best bauble she ever collected, there to do her bidding and keep her company?
It just wasn’t fair.
“My lady,” one of the ladies-in-waiting approached and Amora raised her eyelashes haughtily, showing she had her attention; “A man has arrived with the apples you requested.”
In her hands she held a silver platter lined with velvet and containing a half dozen of Asgard’s prized golden apples, neatly and elegantly stacked. Amora didn’t particularly crave them; it merely amused her to order they be brought to her on command.
Her gaze flitted languidly across the apples, then past them to the guard that had been dispatched to fetch them, standing obediently if somewhat nervously by.
Amora considered him. He was certainly no Thor but, well…he was a man. It always entertained to make a new one dance for her.
“You were the one who saw fit to fulfill my wish?” As she spoke she sent out a wave of enchantment, a warm spell of seduction designed to make him weak in the knees that floated on her breath. “How very kind.”
She could see the instant the magic landed. One moment he was blank, almost confused. The next his eyes fluttered, almost rolling back in his head, as if he’d smelled something intoxicating.
When his eyes focused again he was gazing at her in infatuated wonder.
“Oh, my lady.” He leapt forward, suddenly possessed with the grandeur and artful mannerisms of a knight, one hand to his breast as he took a knee, the better to look up at her worshipfully. “It was my sweetest, most heartfelt pleasure. For you, I would do anything. Say the word and I will fall down upon the point of my sword, if it would please you.”
Amora smiled. Well, at least she could pass the time until Thor returned to her.
And this would be suitably amusing. How many men, she wondered, could she have under her control at once?
“No, no, that won’t be necessary. For now.” She stifled a regal yawn, as she deigned to give him the back of her hand to kiss.
LINK TO PART SIX
Steve Rogers had witnessed a lot of amazing things both during the war and after, when he had been thawed out to find himself more than half a century into the future.
But this was the first time he was looking directly at what was literally another world, and one right out of ancient man’s myths and legends at that.
He stood on the front lawn of Asgard’s palace, gazing up at the spiraling towers and domes. Everything gleamed a rich golden color in the afternoon sunlight. And Steve couldn’t stop staring, standing where he was with an impressed smile on his face.
“Well I’ll be damned.”
Tony’s voice half-shook him out of his reverie. Without turning his head Steve looked over his shoulder.
His two teammates stood there taking in the same view he was. Clint had his arms folded, silent, eyes scanning across everything while his expression remained inscrutable. Tony had stopped walking and put his hands on his hips, taking in a breath with a thoughtful sound.
“You know, all those times the Viking wonder went on about the glories and majesty of home, I had mostly figured the reality couldn’t possibly live up to the way he made it sound.”
A faint grin bloomed on Steve’s face. Tony hadn’t blinked once; though he was hardly slack-jawed with wonder, considering how much effort he usually went to appear jaded, it meant something that he was begrudgingly letting on that he had been impressed.
“Come on,” Clint broke in. “We can sight-see later. Maybe there’s gift shop somewhere that has postcards.”
He jerked his head, indicating the platoon of Asgardian soldiers that were following them.
“Not that I’m on a timetable, but I’m betting these guys would appreciate it if we didn’t make them stand here for too long.”
Steve turned around more fully to take in the armored men who appeared perfectly stoic, despite the fact that all of them were weighted down by the visitors’ luggage.
When the three Earthmen had arrived at the end of the Bifrost, they had been greeted by a large somewhat intimidating man in golden armor (Steve had just barely caught Tony muttering something about a “resemblance to Nick Fury” under his breath). They had then been turned over to the soldiers who were there to escort them across the bridge, and who’d offered to carry their belongings for them.
Steve had politely demurred, and with minimal effort lifted one of his bags up onto his shoulder, carrying the other dangling freely from one hand.
He had however been the only one out of the three. Tony swept an impassive glance across the no less than five Asgardians his own crates and bags had been distributed among.
“Guess Arrowhead’s got a point,” he remarked. “After all we’re going to be here for a while. No sense in dawdling.”
Steve took one last look up at the skyline. His mind wandered to the sketchbook and pencils tucked away in the bag he carried with his right hand.
Hopefully at some point over the next few weeks there would be time between celebrations to sit down somewhere and draw; to try and capture all this on paper. It was an opportunity that would be a shame to miss.
They were led inside the palace and found an interior that matched the outside in grandeur and splendor. Before any of them could think to ask ‘What next?’, Thor appeared to greet them.
“My friends,” he called. He moved toward them and Steve set down his bags to free himself up for the acceptance of a clasped hand. “It is so good to see you again. I trust your journey went well?”
“Piece of cake,” Clint replied. “Not that Stark didn’t make enough jokes about transporter accidents and molecules scattered all across the universe.”
“It made Bruce laugh,” Tony returned mildly, unrepentant. He looked around with a whistle. “Boy, he is going to be so sorry he missed out on this.”
“Someone had to stay behind just in case we were actually needed for defense,” Steve reminded him. “We should be glad he and Agent Romanoff volunteered. Otherwise we might’ve had to draw straws.”
Thor’s smile, Steve realized belatedly, was not quite as cheerful as it should have been. Absently he commanded the servants to take the men’s things to their rooms, before turning back to his friends.
“It is my deepest regret to tell you all that you arrive to find circumstances not as pleasant as they should be.”
“What’s the matter, big guy, trouble in paradise already?” Tony cracked. “Something between you and the soon to be Mrs. The Mighty Thor? You guys are a full year away from even heading down the aisle; I thought that kind of trouble wasn’t supposed to crop up until at least after the honeymoon-”
“Tony,” Steve cut him off, soft but firm, “stop.”
Reflexively Tony gave a petulant scowl, but he fell silent as his eyes drifted over to Thor. As the other man had been speaking the Asgardian’s face had turned wan, grim.
“Indeed,” Thor murmured, “it does have to do with Jane. And there are other matters as well…”
“Whatever it is, you know if we can, we’ll do anything to help,” Steve promised.
“Would that I could pass on your generous offer, the truth is I have great need for your aid,” Thor told them. “Loki has been missing for more than a fortnight.” He swallowed. “There is…some fear that harm may have come to him. Wherever in the Nine Realms he has gone to, he must be found.”
“Of course,” Clint noted, dryly. “Things go wrong, figures Loki would be caught in the middle of it.”
“No kidding,” Tony chimed in. “Guy worked his way off of the list for our rogues’ gallery and he’s still finding ways to cause us problems.”
Steve didn’t add any words of his own on the situation. He remained silent, a prickle of anxiety in his gut.
Thor’s eyes sought out his and he rested one hand on Steve’s shoulder.
“I know out of all the Avengers you are the one my brother is closest to; that he considers you a friend. Though I can’t say with certainty Loki’s hands are clean in this, I will come to no conclusions until there has been more proof.” His gaze was beseeching. “Please, will you lend me your strength in bringing him home again?”
“Of course, Thor,” Steve said earnestly, with no hesitation.
He had been looking forward to spending some time with Loki almost as much as he had anything - the thought something might’ve happened to him made Steve pretty concerned himself.
“Just let me know where and when you want me.”
“Well now we’re in too; can’t be letting Captain Boy Scout make the rest of us look bad.” Off his relaxed, half-serious remark Tony looked over to Clint. “And you said I was being silly for insisting we pack our gear and outfits.”
Clint gave a loud sigh. “What I actually said was that hopefully it would be a waste of time, because we shouldn’t have any reason to need them.”
Tony pointed. “There you go,” he said in his most infuriatingly reasonable tone. “You shouldn’t have said that. Basically, you jinxed us.”
Steve had no choice but to give a weary laugh at that. He hated to admit it, but Tony was probably right.
*
Accompanied by his friends, dressed for both travel and battle alike should it be encountered, Thor led the way once more to the Bifrost’s end point.
An odd sight they must make, he mused. To one side noble warriors of Asgard bedecked in armor. To the other a cluster of mortals in dress he knew could at times seem outlandish even on Midgard.
Thor charged down the rainbow road, making fast time astride his horse. Sif, Hogun and Fandral rode slightly behind him in a spear-point formation, and betwixt them was Captain Rogers in the red, white and blue raiment that served as his mail, shield on his back, handling the horse he’d been lent with decently admirable proficiency.
Hawkeye was uninterested in a horse and had without objection deigned to ride behind Sif on hers. Strong arms wrapped around her waist, he leaned forward with her balance so his weight would not be a hindrance, quiver full of arrows prepped and ready where it slung across his shoulders.
And above all their heads was a streak of red and gold as the Man of Iron matched their pace effortlessly, no doubt restraining the limits of his glorious mechanical armor so he did not beat his companions to their destination.
Thor had filled his human friends in on everything best he could when he wished to spare no time for details. Jane’s strange behavior, the bad blood between Loki and their aunt, some of his brother’s behavior before he had vanished.
They seemed to act as though they understood, or perhaps they merely went along, feeling it more important that they help him. In truth Thor couldn’t care which it was, so long as it granted him aid.
His warrior companions too had been apprised of the circumstances, the parts they didn’t already know. Though he was forced to keep them in the dark as to what secret it was exactly Nanna had become privy to, he was able to somewhat vaguely imply she could possibly threaten the family’s reputation, and luckily they accepted this without asking any further questions.
Even with the addition of the Avengers their party seemed lopsided without Volstagg there to complete the Warriors Three. But though they could’ve used every hand, Thor hated to pry him away from his wife and newborn son at such an intimate time. Though his old friend certainly would’ve joined had Thor asked, he preferred not to cause that discomfort.
Reaching the observatory, they brought their horses to a halt and dismounted. Agent Barton had just successively finished propelling himself from the saddle without entangling any limbs in the stirrups when Stark landed in front of them with a resounding clank.
“So remind me again how this works,” he asked in his resonant voice, the sound of his armor’s flight devices dying away. “Master of finding back and side doors that he is, Loki could’ve gotten out about any possible way. Yet here we are checking in with the guy who runs the most obvious toll booth.”
“Heimdall is more than merely a gate guardsman, good Sir Anthony,” Fandral corrected him, glib. “He sees and hears all. It’s why he was given the task of guarding the road into Asgard.”
“With his far-reaching sight, he might have seen how Loki left, or where it is he is hiding now,” Thor determined.
“That is assuming Loki hasn’t hidden himself using magic,” Sif put in, quietly. “He has done it before. When he doesn’t wish to be found.”
Thor drew a breath. “Even if Heimdall can tell us nothing, if he can’t find Loki we can infer from that that my brother left of his own volition. So at the very least, we have one answer.”
“Okay then,” Stark said with remarkable aplomb. “Whatever you say, Goldilocks. It’s your rodeo.”
“Goldilocks?” Fandral repeated in a muttered aside to Hogun, baffled. Hogun merely shrugged, not understanding the reference any better than his fellow.
Heimdall held his usual placement, sword in hand, eyes gazing past those in front of him into the distance. When Thor and the others came nearer he drew up, filling his great lungs with air.
“My prince,” he greeted. “I have been wondering when the search for answers would bring you to my side.”
“Well this is off to an encouraging start,” Fandral noted, sounding pleased.
Thor took a moment to collect himself, as unsettled as he was made hopeful by the implication that the watcher had been waiting for him.
“Heimdall,” he announced, “my brother, Loki, has for some weeks past not been found within the halls of Asgard.”
Heimdall did not move a muscle. There was not a flicker in the path of his golden eyes. “I know.”
An invisible fist began to squeeze Thor’s heart as his hope soared. “Then can you tell me where he has gone? Where he is now?”
Heimdall’s voice was solemn as he stated, “I cannot.”
Thor frowned intensely. “You mean to say you cannot see him?”
“I mean that I cannot tell you if Loki walked this way or not, nor can I tell you for certain in what realm he may be found.”
Thor’s shoulders dropped. He looked down at the carved crystal path beneath his feet.
“Thank you, Heimdall,” he said quietly, after a moment, forcing his head to rise so he could respectfully meet the gatekeeper’s eyes as he nodded.
Heimdall didn’t nod back, or say anything. His mouth pressed harder into a line.
Silence was usually Heimdall’s way so Thor didn’t read anything into it. He turned away from the guardian to face his friends.
“If he’s cloaked from Heimdall’s sight, we can only assume Loki’s flight from Asgard was a purposeful one,” he said, unhappy but resolute. “This changes some things, but he must still be found.”
“There must be some other way to track him,” Captain America said.
“We may need to ask the All-Father,” Hogun responded.
“Hang on just a second.”
Everyone’s eyes automatically moved to Barton, surprised, as the agent interrupted. There was a blank look on his face as he watched Heimdall, his arms crossed, a slight crease of contemplation formed in his brow.
“Why did he say it like that? He never told you he couldn’t see Loki. Not in any certain words.”
Thor blinked. “Does it matter?”
“Yes,” Sif chimed in slowly, thoughtful. “It does.” She took a step forward, looking up to her half-brother. “Heimdall made a point to say he cannot tell us where Loki is.”
She readdressed her words to Heimdall, “But never did you say that you did not know.”
“I did not,” Heimdall affirmed, peaceably.
“What is this,” Iron Man demanded, “some kind of riddle? See, this is exactly why I hate playing around with magic and sorcerers. One poor choice of words later and you’ve been turned into a newt.”
“A newt?” Fandral exclaimed, mystified.
“I got better.” No doubt keeping a straight face was especially easy when it was concealed by a mask.
Thor ignored his friends’ bickering. “What is the meaning of this trickery?” he asked Heimdall, trying and failing not to grown impatient. “Heimdall, why do you not give us a straight answer? It is your duty to lend aid to Asgard whenever she may require it. And we need you now.”
“And I am doing my best to obey, I promise you,” Heimdall said, “within the confines of my duty. I am doing all that I can.”
“But you cannot tell me whether or not you have seen Loki.”
“No, my prince. I regret to inform you that I cannot.”
Bitterly Thor gave a scoff. “Then what help can you give to me? What force compels Heimdall the Gatekeeper to hold his tongue?”
“Thor,” Rogers held up one hand, indicating he should try calming down, “maybe that’s exactly the question we need to be asking.” He too took a step forward, addressing Heimdall in a clear, respectful voice. “Did someone order you not to talk about whether you had seen Loki?”
Not one muscle changed in Heimdall’s posture. Yet somehow there was the sense he had given a slight sigh of relief. “Yes.”
Thor was shocked. “Who could have done this? The only high command you should answer to is that of my father!”
“I swear fealty to the All-Father and whoever holds the crown of Asgard,” Heimdall replied. “But throughout my many years, that is not the only oath I have sworn.”
Sif exhaled with a gasp.
“Lady Freya.” She looked at the others, stricken. “She earned an oath of a single favor at the beginning of the war with the Frost Giants.”
“But you don’t think…” Thor trailed off, mind racing.
The pieces still didn’t fit entirely right for him. More so, even the beginnings of what this was hinting seemed too disturbing to consider. It was an act just shy of treason.
“You said your one aunt works for the other,” Stark reminded him. “If Nanna wanted Loki gone, and Freya had the key to doing that, wouldn’t she arrange it for her?”
“So what are we saying?” Fandral put in. “That somehow Loki was coerced into leaving, and Lady Freya made Heimdall swear not to tell anybody?”
“It seems like a great way to have covered up the tracks,” was Hawkeye’s opinion.
“Yes,” Sif agreed, looking grim, “it certainly does.”
“Look on the bright side, Thor,” Rogers told him softly, noting the aghast look on Thor’s face. “It means Loki didn’t run away after all. This wasn’t his choice.”
“Yes,” Thor agreed slowly, taking a small amount of courage. “You’re right. Though that means we must have greater concerns for his safety.”
He turned back to Heimdall once more.
“Heimdall. Confirm this for me. You were honor bound by Freya of Vanaheim not to reveal if my brother had used the Bifrost.”
“Correct,” Heimdall stated.
“Nor, because of your word to her, can you now tell us where he may presently be found.”
“Correct.”
Thor considered the matter hard. Finally, with careful precision, he inquired, “But Heimdall. Can you not use the Bifrost to take us to the same place?”
A feeling of approval seemed to emanate from the ancient warrior.
“That,” he informed Thor with great pleasure, “I most certainly can do.”
He turned and went inside, not looking back to see if they would follow as he sheathed his sword in the center platform, causing the air to electrify as the Bifrost readied itself.
“See,” Stark remarked, deadpan. “That wasn’t so hard.”
“We must move quickly,” Hogun said, terse, the first to walk his way through the observatory’s awning.
“Oh right, I forgot.” Stark followed after him without missing a beat. His metallic footsteps rang oddly against the space’s floors. “You’re the fun one.”
“What do you think, Thor?” Captain Rogers asked. “It’s your play. Should we all go, or does someone need to run back to the palace and let them know what’s up?”
Thor swiftly shook his head. “There’s no telling where Loki may be, what enemies or kind of trouble he may have found. I would rather be as prepared as we can be, even if it means those still on Asgard will have to worry a bit longer.”
Fandral had already run inside the Bifrost, not waiting for Thor’s word. At his decision, both Sif and Barton nodded and went in to the outer ring as well.
Captain America met his eyes. “Okay,” he told Thor, accepting his decision. Side by side the two of them entered. Though his friend was bold in battle Thor didn’t think it imagination that Rogers seemed slightly apprehensive as he glanced around.
“One more trip across the universe. Gotta tell you, I’m not sure I entirely trust how this thing handles,” he admitted.
Thor laughed. “Fear not, my friend!” He patted him on the back. “The Bifrost has been standing in faithful service for many eons.”
“And you and your brother tore it apart fairly recently in a smackdown drag-out fight,” Hawkeye spoke up dryly from his point.
“True,” Thor had to admit. But his confidence never wavered. “But it was rebuilt strong as ever, with guidance from the wisdom of my Jane.”
“Oh sure,” went Stark, ever one to get the last word in. “Make it so we can’t distrust the Bifrost without dissing your fiancée.”
Thor knew better than to respond to that with anything but a quiet chuckle. Anyway, it wasn’t what was important. He had his allies at his back and they were on their way to find his brother.
He had to have faith that whatever came next, together they were more than equipped to deal with it.
Hang fast, Loki, Thor thought as the white lighting hit and everything began to blur. We are coming for you.
*
Yet more time had come and gone on Svartalfheim. The troupe of entertainers continued their travels, leaving behind villages for grander cities as they grew and grew in notoriety.
It could be days at a time before after leaving one stop they arrived at the next. Their caravan took them through long stretches of countryside down dirt roads, and past less affluent towns where Nezzori no longer took interest in scheduling a performance.
It meant they were seeing more of the realm. For that, Loki was grateful. But though he searched and searched, wearing himself thin casting scrying charms and weaving layers of divination, he’d yet to find the path that could take him home.
And now their travels were taking them further south, closer to the equator and closer to the sea.
The season wasn’t changing. But it was growing warmer by the day.
Loki had for the most part adjusted to his Jotun body. He found no pleasure in it, and could only look on his reflection with resigned dislike, but he understood its necessity. To maintain Throkk’s identity and form served him well for the time being.
But his needs and limits were that of a pure-blooded Frost Giant. The hot weather was beginning to suffocate him.
More than that, Loki disliked keeping the same shifted form for so long. Especially this one: for it drew not on magic as the source of his disguise but his own tainted nature. He understood he was a changeling but frankly, he knew not the finer details of how everything ‘worked’, what it meant for him when the balance shifted.
He’d never taken on Jotun form fully and held it like this before. There was a niggling fear at the back of his mind: what if he couldn’t change back?
The next time they stopped Loki kept his eyes out for a time when he was left completely alone to his own devices. He got his opportunity that very afternoon.
By now Throkk didn’t have to share quarters with the other girls - she’d been given her own small tent to sleep and keep her possessions in. Loki instructed Balder to stand guard at front outside, to not let anyone in for any reason.
Then he went to the area he had for washing up, gripping the basin with both hands as he leaned forward at the waist, staring intently at his own reflection.
His hair was lank and undecorated, clinging to the back of his neck. He wore one of his dancing costumes, a triangle-shaped top paired with loose low-slung pants. The air felt thicker in the heat, clinging to his body, humid. He was a little lightheaded and his skin was clammy and damp, almost like he was melting.
Loki breathed in through his nostrils, stifling a moan as he lifted his hair up and tugged at it. He needed relief. If only for a little while.
Gathered up cold water between his hands he splashed his face, letting the droplets run down the rest of his bared skin. Then he removed his top and stood there, naked to the waist, focusing as he let it begin.
First he did what he considered the easier part and let go of his seiðr, changing from a woman back to a man. Beneath the veneer of leathery blue skin and ember eyes his chest flattened, shoulders broadened and the curves of his legs and hips disappeared, as the shape of his face changed and his hair seemed to grow backwards.
Loki glanced down at his now more muscular forearms, still bearing the raised lines that marked a Jotun. He looked at the black claw-tipped hands that rested on the white porcelain basin.
With a faint shudder he exhaled, slow and deep. Squeezing his eyes shut he reached inside himself and willed what he wanted to happen.
He pictured his Asgardian form. Traced memories of how it felt, with softer skin and warmer flesh, how the world looked through vision less adapted to the dark, and his food went down differently when his body no longer demanded it cold. When he had teeth instead of fangs, and green eyes instead of red.
Let it be, Loki recited over and over. Let it happen. Let it be.
And in the faintest mental whisper he added, Please.
There was a spreading heat all over that started in his belly, a warmth like stepping into a ray of sunshine, and Loki opened his eyes full of triumph and greatest relief to watch as the last shadows of blue were chased away from his face.
An astonished gasp caught his attention immediately. Loki spun around, nerves raised.
Balder stood there gaping at him, eyes wide, color drained from his face.
“I asked you to keep watch at the entrance,” Loki snapped, aggravated for the sudden unnecessary scare.
Balder didn’t seem to hear him. He kept right on staring. “You were telling the truth,” he said, stilted. “You really are my cousin!”
Loki stepped towards him, rubbing the back of his neck absently. “Of course I am, why would you even have to ask-”
He stopped, eyes jumping to Balder as he was struck by realization.
“You didn’t believe me,” he stated, astounded.
Slowly Balder shook his head. “No. Of course not. Can you blame me? True sorcerers on Asgard are rare, and what are the odds that my cousin, a prince of Asgard, would not only have reached those heights but also just happen to be wandering on Svartalfheim, disguised, and cross paths with me by accident?”
And to think Loki had chalked it up to Balder being gullible.
No; he had taken in the unlikelihood of the situation perfectly, and judged it to be highly doubtful. Loki underestimated him greatly.
“No wonder you never asked me any questions,” he realized out loud. “You didn’t want to waste time because you figured it’d all be lies.”
“Yes.” Balder nodded. “I didn’t want you to think I suspected anything.”
Loki frowned, at a loss. “But if you didn’t believe I was who I claimed, then why have you been going along with me?”
“You said you could get me back to Asgard. After all this time…I figured, so long as there was a chance-”
“But I could have been lying about that as well,” Loki exclaimed, incensed. He had been too quick to let Balder off the hook for being foolish - if anything, he was even more trusting and naïve than Loki had first thought. “On some vague hope, you thought it wise to put your life in the hands of a stranger, with intentions unknown to you and who you believed already misled you? Oh, for Nidhogg’s sake - how stupid could you be!”
Balder went sheepish in the face of Loki’s outburst. “I’m not a child anymore. I thought if anything happened I could handle it.”
“A child would make a similar claim,” Loki retorted, scoffing with disbelief. “The centuries passed have clearly done nothing for your common sense.”
Balder was gazing at him still, oddly. “Maybe so,” he acknowledged, quiet.
For a moment they just looked at each other, uncertain, uncomfortable. There’d been a perceptible shift in the air. It occurred to Loki things had changed now, that Balder actually knew who he was and truly believed in it. What this meant though he couldn’t predict.
Loki stayed where he was, head held evenly, waiting, as Balder looked him up and down.
“You grew tall,” Balder noted at length, and Loki almost laughed at the innocent observation. “And you…filled out, more than I would’ve expected. In my memories I have a vague sense of a cousin who was something of a beanpole.”
“I still look to be something on the scrawny side, if you put me next to Thor,” Loki remarked wryly. “If you think I’ve gotten big, wait until you see him.”
There was a pause as Balder’s face screwed up in consternation before he blurted out, “How is Thor?” It sounded as though it had just occurred to him he should wonder.
“Oh, where to begin?” Loki folded his arms, shifting his weight idly. “He still isn’t king, yet. He is however getting married.”
“Oh,” Balder said, quiet. He looked down. “How good for him.” He struggled with what to say next, before offering up, “She must be very lovely.”
“She is.” And gifted. And mortal. But Loki said neither of those things, holding his tongue.
He watched the expression on Balder’s face, the other man still looking at his own toes. In his estimation it seemed it had hit his cousin how much time had really passed - how much had changed, life on Asgard going on without him.
Loki wouldn’t have expected it of himself, but suddenly he felt very sorry for Balder.
“You were missed,” Loki promised him, softly, earnest. “Asgard mourned you as one of its greatest losses.”
“Greater than one of the legendary heroes who shaped the realm, or the soldiers whose blood spilt on the field of honor?” Balder remarked. “I was a boy; I did nothing extraordinary. Who was I, that Asgard deemed me so important?”
He was at a loss, and Loki realized it was a genuine question. Balder still didn’t really remember anything. He had no sense of who he was, and by now the mystery must have plagued him.
“You are Balder the Bright,” Loki told him. Moving closer he cupped a hand against his cousin’s neck, trying to lend him strength through the gesture. “Balder the Beautiful. Only son of Frey and Nanna, a lord of Vanaheim and a warrior of Asgard. You are brave, compassionate, honorable and true.”
Loki realized he wasn’t only repeating what he knew the rest of Asgard would say. He was speaking the truth; the truth he saw in his own memories, now he looked back on them in a clearer, different light. And the truth he’d learned from spending time with this Balder, half-formed though he was.
He continued, “You are a friend to many and admired by all. And when you died,” his voice caught; “When you were murdered-”
Balder was looking straight at him, eyes open and emotive and pleading. Loki couldn’t stand it.
He pulled his hand away, moving back out of reach. “Do you remember anything, about how you died?”
“Yes,” Balder said quietly. “Not…like I was there, but - it was you, wasn’t it?” He was more thoughtful than accusing. “I can’t explain it, but somehow I remember that…it was you.”
One of Loki’s hands clenched into a fist as he held it near the knot in his stomach. “Yes. But I wasn’t trying to…it was never my intention to end your life. Surely anyone should have known…”
The words wouldn’t come. All his reasonable defenses, his arguments, his protests, they died on his lips with Balder standing there in front of him, hair white like a shade and looking so destitute and lost.
That guilt that had been a weight on his shoulders, that had been making him sick to his stomach, refused to go ignored and unnamed any longer.
Loki drew a breath and swallowed to keep his voice from shaking.
“I’m sorry,” he choked out. “I’m so sorry. I was jealous and angry and spiteful and I wanted to hurt you. I-”
Balder raised a hand, asking for silence. “It was an accident, wasn’t it? And it was so very long ago.” He gave Loki a faint smile. “And you aren’t out to harm me anymore, since all you’ve been doing is helping me. I forgive you.”
Loki’s voice was hoarse. “It isn’t supposed to be that easy.”
Balder frowned. “Why not?” he asked, genuinely puzzled.
“Because it’s not. That isn’t how these things work. When you do something wrong, things change, forever. They leave a mark that can be seen, and do what you will they will never go back!” Loki broke off in a near-hysterical shout.
He turned, half putting his back to Balder, not wanting to show his face as he breathed heavily, eyes wild.
Tentatively Balder came at him, hand outstretched.
“What’s become of you?” he asked after a moment, hushed and sounding very sad. “It can’t just be me. There’s a shadow that hangs over you now that I’ve noticed. You’re so serious. I think you’re much quieter than I remember.” There was regret in his voice; maybe he knew more than he actually realized. “What happened to the trickster that made Asgard such a lively place?”
“He grew up, and tired of being everyone else’s jester,” Loki muttered bitterly. “He wanted to be taken seriously, to be noticed, to be seen for what he was: just as good as the rest of them.” He breathed in a wet hiss. “But he reached too far.”
He spun away from Balder’s hand and wandered across the length of his quarters over to the bed, sitting down on it because his legs felt numb, like they could no longer support him.
And again Balder followed. He waited, probably expecting Loki to order him to leave. But Loki said nothing. He laced his fingers tightly and brought them in front of him, bowing so his knuckles dug into his forehead as he shut his eyes.
Realizing a dismissal wasn’t coming, with gradual movements as if approaching a wounded animal, Balder lowered himself so he sat next to Loki on the bed, less than an arm’s length between them.
“Cousin, please. Won’t you tell me what happened?”
“I’m not your cousin,” Loki bit out. He didn’t lift his head, bending further in on himself. “No more than I am Thor’s brother, or Odin’s son. I might as well tell you, because if I take you back to your mother I’m sure she’ll let you know the truth. I was not born of Asgard, but of Jotunheim. That’s why I have always been the outcast - I am a Jotun monster.”
For a very long pregnant pause Balder said nothing. No doubt he was struggling to believe it, to comprehend.
“But I don’t understand. What does that have to do with-?”
“I never knew. I never knew, but then I found out and I, I…I was already so mad at Thor. At Father. I had been rejected, and cast aside, one time too many.” Loki’s muscles tightened, his teeth grit. “But finding out why I was unworthy to be Odinson? It burned a hole through me. It felt like I was destined to suffer, and if so be it, then I wanted all to suffer along with me. It was only fair.”
Balder’s voice was muffled with fear. “What did you do?”
Loki lifted his shoulders as he inhaled, anger gone in an instant to be replaced by regret, and sorrow. “Oh, I tried to kill Thor. I…did a hundred wicked and shameful things. Forgive me if I don’t want to list all of them. I left Asgard; I banished myself. For what felt like a very long time, I wandered. I don’t know now that I could say what my goal truly was.”
Balder was speechless, which was probably for the best. Loki dropped his hands enough that his face could be revealed.
He realized his mouth was trembling. That his throat was sore with the tears wanting to come.
“I know that I did wrong. I can never argue that. But though I am blessed enough to be forgiven, at times forgiveness seems like the worst punishment of all.”
“How so?” Balder asked him, numbly.
Loki shook his head, twitching. “I am home. But nothing is the way it’s supposed to be. No one trusts me. I wouldn’t mind, but my own family…I see the way they look at me. I am quiet for too long, and they worry about the nature of my thoughts.”
He struggled to breath, to speak evenly. The pile he had so long been holding back, precarious and uneasy, was finally upset. The things he’d bee refusing to say to anyone came tumbling out.
“Father is so afraid of upsetting me, that he treats me like I’m an invalid. No matter what I do he won’t speak out against it. But does he think such distance is better than disapproval? And Mother…she tries not to cling, but she’s haunted. All she wants is to hold fast as if at any moment I’ll disappear.”
He raised his chin, rueful. “Thor spends his time worrying about my happiness. He won’t let himself disagree with me. One angry word and then his mouth shuts tight, like argument is all it takes to set us at odds. Before I complained he ignored me, so now he thinks it his responsibility to see I’m never alone.”
He pictured the nervous, searching looks he always saw in his family’s eyes. They couldn’t even pretend for him, not really. They were waiting, watching for a sign, expecting him to repeat his mistakes.
At the thought Loki’s voice finally broke. Full of raw misery his arms crossed, hands clutching at opposite shoulders.
“It’s like this every single day.” He shook his head. “Much as I hated how things were before, sometimes I wish it could go back. That in a way it was better then.”
When his grievances were still shut tight inside - when he was ignorant to what he had to lose, to how bad things could become. He drew in, hugging himself tighter.
“But it will never be like that. We are broken, and will never again be whole. And this is my fault,” he gasped out with a miserable certainty. “It’s all because of my mistakes. I ruined everything.”
He missed Asgard so much. This was the first since his being accepted back that he’d been gone for so long, and not of his own volition. The longest time without seeing his friends and family.
The soul-deep pain of loss and longing that he denied himself during his outcast period was now his for the taking. He was free to pine, free to admit how upset he was over what was beyond his reach. In a way it was better to truly feel his sorrow, not pushing it away for reasons of resentment and pride.
But the distance too made clearer how miserable his current circumstances on Asgard were. His daily struggle at trying to make himself fit the space he left behind, only to be thwarted at every turn because both he and the people around him had changed.
It was selfish to want things to be like they had before, utter selfishness; to be loved or at least tolerated, like he had never done the things that he had done.
Knowing that however wasn’t enough to take the desire from him. It ate him up with despair.
As Loki sat there, breathing shallow and unhappy, suddenly he felt Balder press a warm hand into the space between his shoulders, arm moving around in an embrace.
He lifted his head to see Balder watching him with gentle sympathy.
“I know it must be difficult. It certainly doesn’t sound as if you, or the others, have been through an easy time.” His words were calm and soft, but backed by the strength of conviction. “But I think, if you give them time, they will only get better. Right now you are making your amends. It will be a struggle, but things only go uphill from here.”
Balder hesitated, gathering and trying to form his thoughts.
“I know I must seem to you like I’m in no position to give advice,” he admitted. “I am not a king, or a sorcerer. I know nothing of justice or the way the world works. I know next to nothing about myself, so how could I be capable of judging others?”
He had such resolute, easy confidence. Neither forceful nor wheedling. It simply was.
“But from what I’ve seen, I don’t think it’s your lot to suffer, Loki. You don’t deserve it.” Balder lowered his head to make certain their eyes met. “You are not an evil person.”
“It seems you haven’t been listening to a word I’ve said,” Loki said in response to that, hoarse.
Balder only shook his head. “You are a…restrained person. For the most you mind your own business. But I’ve watched you all this time. You can be compassionate, generous. And you are anything but cruel.”
“Oh, but I can be. When the spirit moves me to it.”
“I’ll have to take your word on it - I haven’t seen it yet.” Balder offered up a faint smile, his eyes bright. “I think whatever it is you want, or need, on Asgard, you’re going to get it. You only need wait for it. Have courage, and patience. I know you lack for neither of those.”
“I suppose it can be managed,” was Loki’s feeble reply. He could feel moisture on his face where a few errant tears had fallen but he did not move to immediately wipe them away.
Somehow, without being fervent, without being overly persuasive, Balder had managed to bask him in the light of encouragement. He’d offered up neither judgment nor pity, only simple and straightforward words. But he believed in them so wholeheartedly, and that earnest belief was his strength.
What unexpected depths lay beneath such a humble surface. With gentle praise and the right soft-spoken entreaties, it was easy to imagine Balder could lead an army of men anywhere.
Was this what it felt like, Loki wondered, to be on the receiving end of Balder’s approval in the past? Was this the light and shining warmth that drew everyone to him, made them seek out his friendship?
If so, Loki could see why he had been so beloved. He regretted it that he never before experienced it for himself. How different things might have been, if instead of scorning Balder and keeping a distance, he had come closer and found out what he really was missing. The real reason for admiring him and putting him up on a pedestal.
But it was too late now. Such chances were long gone, and it would be too sentimental and pointless to mourn them.
Loki looked to his cousin and gave him a thin but effected smile. “Thank you,” he told him.
Balder drew his hand away, squeezing his shoulder in passing. “You’re welcome. But I only told you what I thought was the truth.”
“I know,” Loki assured. “That was why it meant so much to me.”
He stood up, roughly scrubbing at his face with a flicking gesture from the back of his hand.
“What time is it? It must be getting close to evening by now. I need to change.”
“You should probably put a shirt back on,” Balder agreed, easily.
Loki gave him a hard incredulous look, and Balder jumped.
“Oh! You mean…changed.” He got to his feet as well, embarrassed, gesturing randomly at Loki’s body. “Back into your other form.”
“I certainly hope so,” Loki said ironically. “I think it will be quite a disappointment to Nezzori if he doesn’t get what he expects.”
Balder gave a nervous laugh, almost a giggle. “I left something out in my earlier observations, cousin,” he noted. “You are also a strange man.”
Loki shrugged at that, not the least bit offended.
“Is that such a surprise? I was a strange child,” he observed. “It’s natural my oddities would only increase with time.”
“I suppose so,” Balder concurred after only a moment’s thought.
And to think there had been a time when the two of them had seemed like oil and water. Yet there they were, accepting each other’s limitations without much hesitance at all.
And Loki found it a circumstance not at the least unpleasant.
*
Amora was feeling terribly bored. Not to mention simply in a bad mood in general.
Her room in the palace was filled with presents she’d been given, trinkets she’d commissioned, and offerings she’d demanded, and as she sulked prettily on an embroidered couch, she was surrounded by serving girls and lesser noblewomen there for the purpose of attending to her beauty treatments or offering up occasional prompted commentary on how flawless she looked.
Such attentions did not flatter her. She felt they were the minimum courtesy of what she deserved.
It was unfortunate enough, she thought, that she’d had to exchange her own body - with both its own natural gifts and hard-won magical enhancements - for the demonstrably inferior one of that doleful mortal woman. With a little effort it could be made to look…presentable, but she felt sour every time she looked in the mirror.
But ultimately it was a small and acceptable price for what it gave her. Thor on her arm, and Asgard’s crown. All she had to do was sit back, wait, and let it happen. No need to even snap her fingers, for it was coming to her.
The most powerful and handsome man as her plaything, and the riches of the Nine Realms at her feet. Finally, after all this time, it would be hers. It was all she’d ever wanted.
Well, no: not ‘all’. But certainly the most significant thing she ever desired.
Not to say that it’d been entirely simple. Oh, be-spelling sweet, gullible Thor was exactly as easy as she remembered; and as had been promised to her beforehand, by the time she was in place Loki was already out of the way.
The hard part was avoiding the All-Father, or anyone else who might either sense her magic or suspect something from her behavior. At times, now, that took some cleverness.
But as things stood at present there’d been plenty of distractions to rely upon. And if worse came to worse, well, Thor could be so accommodating. In his current state it took little nudging from her for him to give whatever orders she wished.
And that would have been all well and good…except now Thor was gone.
It was her understanding he had left Asgard, right in the middle of his own engagement celebration, accompanied by a distinctly odd pack of companions. Rumor had it he was looking for his wayward brother.
It was very untoward and unexpected, and therefore quite baffling for everyone.
And for Amora, it had thrown her into a state of pique.
When Thor came back with Loki - well, if he actually did - she would deal with that as it arose. In the past she’d used both princes against each other quite fluidly, there was no reason she couldn’t do it again.
But in the meantime what was the fun of being a princess in all but name without her favorite obedient servant, the best bauble she ever collected, there to do her bidding and keep her company?
It just wasn’t fair.
“My lady,” one of the ladies-in-waiting approached and Amora raised her eyelashes haughtily, showing she had her attention; “A man has arrived with the apples you requested.”
In her hands she held a silver platter lined with velvet and containing a half dozen of Asgard’s prized golden apples, neatly and elegantly stacked. Amora didn’t particularly crave them; it merely amused her to order they be brought to her on command.
Her gaze flitted languidly across the apples, then past them to the guard that had been dispatched to fetch them, standing obediently if somewhat nervously by.
Amora considered him. He was certainly no Thor but, well…he was a man. It always entertained to make a new one dance for her.
“You were the one who saw fit to fulfill my wish?” As she spoke she sent out a wave of enchantment, a warm spell of seduction designed to make him weak in the knees that floated on her breath. “How very kind.”
She could see the instant the magic landed. One moment he was blank, almost confused. The next his eyes fluttered, almost rolling back in his head, as if he’d smelled something intoxicating.
When his eyes focused again he was gazing at her in infatuated wonder.
“Oh, my lady.” He leapt forward, suddenly possessed with the grandeur and artful mannerisms of a knight, one hand to his breast as he took a knee, the better to look up at her worshipfully. “It was my sweetest, most heartfelt pleasure. For you, I would do anything. Say the word and I will fall down upon the point of my sword, if it would please you.”
Amora smiled. Well, at least she could pass the time until Thor returned to her.
And this would be suitably amusing. How many men, she wondered, could she have under her control at once?
“No, no, that won’t be necessary. For now.” She stifled a regal yawn, as she deigned to give him the back of her hand to kiss.
LINK TO PART SIX