Thor Fic: "We Are Our Own Folklore" (R, Loki/Darcy, Thor/Jane), 6b/7
LINK TO BEGINNING OF CHAPTER
Thor and the others’ reaction to seeing Balder, alive again and relatively well, was if possible even more stunned and amazed than Loki’s own. But it was no surprise at all once they got over their astonishment they were incredibly happy to see him.
They crowded around him, clasping his arm and touching fingers to his now pale hair in wonder as they made exclamations. Balder was hailed like a returning prodigal son. And it was agreed unanimously it was a good day for Asgard indeed.
It wasn’t often, after all, that the dead came back to life. Let alone one who had been so honored and loved as Balder.
Balder took it well for the most part, returning their greetings and embraces with a bright smile, though uneasiness still hung over him. He recognized Thor and the others only just barely, and it was arguable whether he even truly remembered them. Instead of feeling relief at finding a place he belonged he acted as if he’d been overwhelmed.
Perhaps out of respect for the others’ obvious happiness he was kind and warm in response. Though while with them repeatedly his eyes sought out Loki’s, as if needing reassurance.
When it was explained what had happened to Balder, how he was still not quite himself, the Asgardians were dismayed but, for their people, relatively understanding. They took Balder’s amnesia, his lack of certainty, his change in appearance, his technical pacifism - and the looks on their faces when they heard that! - and said that him being miraculously alive outweighed it all.
Still, there were already marks in their behavior that showed something like pity. Their voices were quiet when they spoke to Balder, and often they wore sad and placating smiles. Overall they were acting as if Balder was an invalid, or a man whose mind had gone feeble - hardly an auspicious homecoming for the once God of Light.
Loki felt sour, and a bit angry, but it was what he’d already expected. He could only try to ignore the voice that said it was cruelty for him to bring Balder home to such a fate.
“Only imagine the look on Nanna’s face when she sees us returned home,” Fandral exclaimed, unaware to the cloud that hung over Loki’s head. “Just think of it!” He was grinning overtly at the poetic irony of it all. “She sent Loki away to punish him, and here he is returning the favor by bringing her back her son. Now there’s gratitude for you.”
“Yes,” Loki replied, absently. He looked over his shoulder and flinched when he saw Balder standing off to the side talking to the man in the star-marked uniform. “Oh no - who let him near to Steve? That’s a dangerous amount of nobility in such a small space.”
Fandral was also looking at Balder though he didn’t seem to have heard him. “I do hope she’ll be happy, for a change,” he continued, musing. “Only it’s a shame that he’s gotten so very fat.”
Loki’s head twisted around and he stared at him. “What?” he countered, dumbfounded. “What are you talking about? No he hasn’t.”
Fandral gave a less than convinced frown and exchanged a look with Sif and Hogun.
“He is a bit thicker than he was in the old days,” Sif backed him up.
“Definitely more on the pudgy side, now,” Hogun agreed.
“Wha-” Loki’s eyes darted between each of their faces, searching for a sign they were toying with him. Instead they only gazed back in earnest confusion, eyebrows up slightly, as if he were the one being odd. He scoffed, incredulous. “Well, fine. If that’s what you’re all convinced of, then so be it.”
The three warriors exchanged another significant look. Loki threw up his hands and walked away, deciding he was done with them in disgust.
Loki had already changed back to his true, male Asgardian form before they had left the confines of the city, and now there was no trace of Throkk to be found anywhere save a politely worded letter of resignation on both her behalf and Balder’s, which would no doubt make Nezzori tear his hair out in despair. The man had probably grown accustomed to the luxurious income his ‘talented sapphire’ afforded him, and would likely come to some outlandish conclusion that the dancer and her bodyguard had run off together, and curse himself for being an overindulgent fool.
Once the group was together again Thor had wanted to summon the Bifrost to leave immediately, but Loki convinced him to wait, for after having been filled in on the happenings in his absence he wasn’t sure that was entirely a good idea.
“We may want to take one of the secret paths home,” Loki explained to him. “It might be better if we don’t announce our return openly.”
“But why? Time is of the essence. Why waste it with these foolish games?”
“It isn’t a game at all. I want you to think for a moment. You say it wasn’t until right after I left that Jane began behaving oddly. That it became as if she was placed under some spell.”
“Yes,” Thor answered, and then was taken aback as he latched onto what Loki was suggesting. “You don’t think that our aunts could’ve had something to do with that as well?”
“They wanted me out of the way. The more I think on it the more I’m convinced there had to be more than a simple reason. No,” Loki murmured, “it would be odder were the two events not connected.”
“But this is outrageous! They had no right to attempt to banish you, and to place some curse on their future queen?” Thor expounded hotly. “It’s almost as good as a direct act against the crown! Why, it’s-”
“Treason?” Loki finished for him, tersely. “Yes, Thor, it is. Which is why we should be very, very careful about coming into Asgard until we know exactly where we stand.”
Thor slumped, arms hanging from his shoulders. “If not by Bifrost, then how are we to go back?”
“Don’t worry.” Loki gave him a sharp-edged smile. “I have something of a plan.”
His long and fruitless search for a tear in Yggdrasil over the past few weeks should’ve made relying on one now seem like a bad idea, but things had changed - Loki had a secret weapon.
Though of the few mortal scientists in his acquaintance now many would scoff at the idea, in his curiosity Loki had made enough study of their work to be aware of the many places where it and his sorcery overlapped.
And Tony Stark had been so kind enough to bring along his marvelous flying suit that could scan across great distances for patterns of energy.
It was only a matter of Loki being able to tell him what to look for.
They made camp for the night in a clearing several miles from the city. While the others took turns standing guard in shifts, Loki and Tony spent most of the hours they should’ve been sleeping working out an equation to translate what Loki needed into data that the armor could scan with its systems. Frequent sarcastic remarks aside, the human inventor threw himself into the process with an excited fervor he had towards most of his projects, and even under duress Loki was more than able to match his enthusiasm.
Over the years Loki had found he and this particular former adversary got along best when they communicated in the language of numbers and discovery.
By morning both were groggy, red-eyed, and many of their companions worse for wear for having slept on the damp and chilly ground. But they had the solution they needed. Stark quickly booted up his armor and took off.
Hawkeye watched his exhaust trail long after he had faded into the distance. “So. What now?” He looked at the motley assembly of Asgardians and Avengers wryly. “Anyone want to play poker until he returns?”
Somehow Thor, Sif, Fandral and Hogun simultaneously came up with the idea to pass the time by interrogating poor Balder some more. Loki would’ve moved to save him, but was stopped by a timely hand on his shoulder.
He turned around to see Captain America smiling at him faintly, cowl draped back over his shoulders. “Hey there, stranger.”
“Steve,” Loki greeted him with belated if genuine warmness, extending a hand for a tight forearm clasp and a pat on the back. “It has been awhile since we’ve seen one another, hasn’t it?” And he’d been so busy they day before the two of them had barely exchanged glances, let alone words.
“Uh, at least a few months.” Steve gave a quiet chuckle. “How have you been?”
“I,” Loki hesitated. He stole another glance at his cousin, worried.
“You’re protective of him, aren’t you?” Steve noted.
“Some might say I have a lot to make up for in concern of his wellbeing,” Loki said, quiet.
“It’s all right, though; I think he can handle himself,” was the mortal’s confident estimation. “I talked to him before. He’s good people. Come on: you and I’ve got some catching up to do.”
A few hours later Iron Man returned and landed semi-gracefully in midst of their gathering.
“Well. It took some doing,” he informed them, visor turning in the direction of Loki. “But I think I found what you need.”
Thor and Stark took turns ferrying the rest of the party to the location of the naturally-formed energy bridge, not wanting to wait the time necessary for everyone to walk. Thor brought over Loki first, and by the time the last of the others had arrived he was crouched down with both hands raised, magic flickering between them, caught up in heavy concentration.
“So what’s the verdict?” Steve asked, first to break the silence. “Is it what you were looking for?”
“It is definitely a ripple in Yggdrasil where one can pass through, yes.” Loki’s mouth barely moved as he answered, eyes fixatedly tracking the patterns of the magic.
“So you can use it to take us back to Asgard,” Sif concluded.
Slowly Loki turned his head to look at them all over his shoulder. His mouth split and stretched in a grin that brought to mind his darker days.
“No, not to Asgard, I’m afraid,” he said, bleakly amused. “This one goes to Jotunheim.”
*
In Thor’s estimation, Jotunheim looked no different than the last time he had visited.
The home of the Frost Giants was still to his eyes little more than a frozen waste, with cracked and uneven terrain and howling winds of most biting cold. Uncomfortable, possibly deadly, even to an Asgardian.
As the group stood there shivering, Loki conjured fur pelts from thin air and passed them out. All accepted gratefully, save Stark, who waved the offering away. It seemed cold was yet another thing his fantastic armor protected from.
The mortal took to the air gracefully while the rest of them were still recovering their bearings, and reported he was finding no signs of life in the surrounding area. It seemed they had been jettisoned in yet another of the vast stretches on the world far from any civilization, neither beast nor being wandering within their sight.
Given the nature of the denizens of this particular realm, and the hostile reaction they’d give coming across intruders, it was news for which they should probably be thanking their luck, and only hoping it’d hold.
It seemed universally understood it’d do them little good to linger. They walked with almost no chatter, preferring to save their strength for movement. It was slow going in what felt like a small but continuous battle against the elements.
Jotunheim was a poorly-lit realm to begin with and sight was hampered further by the falling snow. Thor could not tell the difference between one direction and another.
Loki however seemed to know where he was going, and so they followed his lead.
Thor had to confess the plan didn’t make much in the way of sense to him. Going from Svartalfheim to Jotunheim, and then trekking across Jotunheim before returning to Asgard, was a dangerous prospect and certainly would take much longer than summoning the Bifrost. It seemed needlessly complicated, all for the sake of gaining some small element of stealth.
But Loki had been insistent he could get them home in relatively little time, and that this detour through Jotunheim was essential. And Thor had decided to trust his brother.
Whether he gave that trust because he truly felt it in his heart, or out of some lingering sense of guilt, he couldn’t be sure of. But he chose not to examine too thoroughly his reasoning.
As they made their way in a staggered line, Thor’s gaze wandered onto his brother. Loki had taken only the lightest of cloaks himself, and seemed relatively unbothered by the cold. But no doubt their childhood companions hadn’t noticed, or if they did thought nothing of it. Thor thought back to how in their youth Loki had stood immune to cooler temperatures; to times when his skin had been cold, even clammy to the touch.
It was almost odd to look back and think no one had ever wondered, that no questions had ever been asked. How different their lives might’ve been, were Loki’s secret uncovered early? Would it have spared them the pain of their later years - or it would it have only caused Loki meeting a much worse fate?
But it did no good, questioning the past.
“How much farther?” Rogers called out, raising his voice against the scrape of the frigid air.
“Shouldn’t be long.” Loki stopped, turning sideways so he could face them and be heard clearly without having to yell. “I’ve a more than passing familiarity with this area.” He started walking again, slowly at first, then making his stride longer so the others were forced to keep moving and follow him up the slope he climbed. “There should be a small cave, a few hours north of here. There’s a ripple there that will take us to Asgard.”
“You’ve been this way before,” Fandral remarked. “Are we tracing back the route you followed all those weeks ago?”
Loki didn’t stop, didn’t turn. “No.”
Thor faltered, touched at once by grim knowledge, but said nothing. He found he didn’t have to at the looks dawning on Sif, Hogun and Fandral’s faces.
“The attack before Thor’s coronation,” Hogun realized, “when you led the Giants into the lowest vault. This is the way that you showed them.”
“Yes.” Loki’s shoulders were raised, stiff and close by his ears, when he stole another glance back at them. “And a good thing I did too, wouldn’t you say, since it does us so much benefit now.”
There was a note of challenge, almost haughty, to Loki’s tone.
But underneath Thor heard what he suspected no one else would: that Loki was tired.
It was an old wound - maybe not comparatively so, in the length of their lives, but one their group of immediate friends was supposed to have dealt with and moved past by now. But the three warriors had fallen silent, and one could see the traces of anger trying to surface in their expressions. It was hard to ignore, and equally hard to fault them for it: this reminder of what they considered Loki’s first betrayal.
Barton spoke up, and Thor got the distinct sense he was trying to change the subject. “If I understand what you’re saying right, we’re going to be ending up inside some kind of treasury, then? Are we going to have any problems breaking out of it?”
“We should not. The guards certainly will not attack us, and the magical defenses are designed only to activate against a threat to Asgard,” Thor said helpfully.
“And it will save us time by bringing us already within the palace,” Sif added, begrudgingly.
They made it over the slanting terrain and at the top found themselves at the beginning of a flat, even expanse. Continuing their walk they began to notice when the torrent of frigid snow yielded.
Fandral tilted his head back, beaming cheerfully at the turn of events. “Well, then. Finally.” He spread his arms and chortled. “That makes things far less unpleasant, then, wouldn’t you say-?”
His words died as he looked forward and the color drained from his face. Instinctive alarm went through the group and hands reached for weapons as they took in what the cleared-away haze revealed: they were not alone.
Straight in front of their party and staring directly at them were a dozen Jotun.
The Asgardians reacted mostly with battle-hardened determination; the mortals with the same tinged by varying degrees of surprise, since it was the first any of them had actually seen this particular race.
Barton silently drew his bow taut and Rogers let out a gentlemanly curse, and from behind them Stark was heard to mutter distantly, “Oh, right…Frost Giants.”
Even though Thor immediately hefted Mjolnir high in his fist, as he gazed across the short distance between them he tried to think what to say: how to convey to the Jotun there need be no quarrel if only they would stand down and let them pass.
But there was no chance to speak. Too quickly the Jotun identified what they were looking at, and hate bloomed in their expressions. They rushed forward with snarls and frozen weapons forming on their hands to attack.
Before the two sides even reached each other an initial volley was exchanged. Barton’s first arrow landed with perfect accuracy in the joint of one Jotun’s shoulder, but the giant shrugged off the blow with little more than a growl of pain. The archer swiftly reloaded and took aim at another enemy, this time choosing a knee as a target, and got more of a reaction as the wounded individual howled and dropped to one leg. Stark launched a barrage of both projectiles and energy blasts from his gauntlets, but the Jotun proved unnervingly good at smacking the smaller weapons out of the sky, and bullets did them no damage. And Loki hurled from his fist a twisting acid-green spell; it hit one giant square in the chest and wrapped around his throat like a snake, choking him, and then when it brought him to his knees leaped higher to tear into his face.
Thor thought he identified the leader of the Jotun’s group by his square helmet and the broad shoulder-pads of his frozen armor. He picked the warrior directly to the left of that one and threw Mjolnir at him, striking him in the center of his torso with full force and knocking him down and back, out of the fight. With a gesture the hammer flew back to Thor’s waiting fist.
By then the Jotun had about reached where they were standing and his band of friends had run forward the last distance to meet them. Hogun and Fandral worked in a team, taunting and distracting a single target until they could trip him and bring him low, where their weapons might be of some use. Rogers hurled his shield as a discus, ricocheting off two warriors and wounding them both in the process, the object returning to him in time for him to smash a nearer giant in his outstretched hands. Balder stayed near the edge of the fray, making small advances with his blade.
The Jotun roared in renewed fury. They slashed and hacked at their smaller foes with the icy extensions of their arms, shaped into cutlasses and maces and pickaxes.
Sif crouched low behind her shield, keeping it raised before her face with one hand, while she used her glaive to stab upward at a distance. “Do not let their hands make contact!” she called to the mortals in warning.
“Got it. Thanks,” Barton huffed. Dancing and weaving to avoid giants reaching down for him with curled claws, he fired off another arrow - the telltale flickering of a tiny light on its shaft gave it away as an explosive.
It landed in the snow, point-first. A nearby Jotun snatched it up with a mean grin, likely mistaking a failure on the human’s part and intending to use it as a spear. It detonated right in his face.
Thor found himself surrounded by a cluster of Frost Giants and fought furiously to get clear, pummeling them with his hammer. Nearby Rogers found himself in a similar situation and the two wordlessly worked their way in each other’s direction so they could fight together.
As they stood back to back, with some effort besting the larger opponents, the Captain called to him stridently, “Thor! What’s the play here?”
He understood what his friend was asking. The Jotun were enemies of Asgard, and they attacked first…but the Avengers were warriors of decency. Thor set his mouth, considering.
“Fight to wound, only!” he yelled out, loud enough so all could hear him. “We are under a treaty with these people!”
Rogers nodded in understanding, too winded to speak. But he sent one giant staggering with a gloved fist undercut to his jaw, then using his opponent’s shoulder as a fulcrum leapt up and over, making another flying leap to kick a standing giant while simultaneously concussing another with his shield.
Momentarily clear, Thor caught his breath, tightening his grip on Mjolnir as he turned to seek another foe.
What he saw instead was Loki using a staff he must have summoned to attack a giant viciously. His brother’s teeth were bared as he swung with brutal force then stomped on the Jotun’s chest with his boot after the other was already down. He jabbed the staff’s end into the giant, jolting with sparks of manic green energy that drew agonized cries, wanting to make the end as painful as possible.
The sorcerer-prince was clearly not holding back to wound. His intentions were fatal.
“Loki!” Thor shouted at him, as much warning as an order. Loki relinquished his hold and pulled back, leaving the Jotun gasping and writhing but for the moment still alive.
The look he shot Thor’s direction was far from apologetic: a withering scowl full of disdain and resentment, eyes agleam with a hollow, sinister drive. Thor clutched Mjolnir tighter and for a horrifying moment found himself sketching an attack against Loki, having been thrown back in time to a point when his brother was a dangerous enemy.
A startled shout from one of their allies distracted both of them. The Jotun had started using their power over the terrain against them, summoning up long deadly spikes of ice at unpredictable intervals. There were several close calls as the others jumped out of the way in the nick of time.
Balder leapt out of the way of being impaled with surprising agility. A giant tried to seize him by the edge of his cape, but he shook it off, using both shield and sword against his attacker while skillfully avoiding the risk of doing any mortal injury.
Sif found herself suddenly surrounded, caged in by a ring of ice to her back and attacking Jotun to her front. Loki went to aid her with his throwing knives.
Stark had until this point been doing an excellent job flying overhead and shooting the Jotun with blasts from his gauntlets, the heat doing almost as much damage as the repulsive force. A giant suddenly managed to grab him, wrapping both hands around with a vicious fervor as it coated him in ice.
The armor’s surface made this a difficult task, however.
“What’s the matter, Jack Frost? Never seen a guy wearing an ice-resistant gold alloy befor-”
Stark was cut off mid-taunt as in frustration the giant swatted him to the ground. Both Hogun and Rogers rushed to their fallen ally, pulling him out of the snow and helping him to his feet.
Thor had had enough - it was time to end this battle. Half the Jotun were down, either senseless or too injured, and many of those still fighting were showing signs that their energy was beginning to flag. With his hammer he pounded the ground, cracking open the ice and knocking down a few more with the vibration. Spinning about, his eyes landed on the leader.
Taking advantage of the distraction he raced forward and tackled the Jotun to the ground. Kneeling atop the other, keeping him pinned, Thor then wrenched up one of the ice spikes by the root and with both hands pressed it down on the leader’s throat.
“Yield,” he demanded in a bellow. The Jotun struggled, but he pushed him back down. “You have lost this fight! Yield, and we will have no reason to do further damage to any of your people!”
The Jotun snarled at him, but begrudgingly twisted his head to address his men. “Stand down,” he barked.
The Frost Giants pulled back, nursing their wounds and muttering. Thor didn’t risk looking away, but as best he could moved his eyes to see how the others were doing.
Barton was helping Fandral wrap a wound on his arm, the latter boasting a deep gash of his own across one shoulder. Loki knelt beside a pale and quiet Sif, healing some injury, while Balder hovered over them both. Hogun and Rogers walked with the Man of Iron slung between them, one arm held across each their shoulders.
“That was fun,” Stark was saying, woozily. “A real blast. They should consider putting that ride in at Universal.”
“Tony, shut up,” Rogers told him, not unkindly. “Save your strength.”
“I’m hearing ringing. Is…does anyone else hear ringing?”
A low growl from the Jotun leader caught Thor’s attention again, and he shoved at him once more.
“There was no need for you to attack us,” he told the Jotun reproachfully. “We are in your land but by accident, and mean you no harm.”
The Jotun gave a derisive laugh. “No harm?” he repeated in his hissing, craggy voice. “Your war-loving race always means harm to ours. Peace between us can only be but a farce.”
“Nonetheless it is a peace we have.” Thor tried not to sound too begrudging as he continued, “I understand why it might be hard to trust our people given the history-”
“History has nothing to do with it. Unless you consider turning the Bifrost to rip apart our world a few scant years ago an event of history.”
Thor stole a guilty look towards his brother. But there was not an ounce of expression on Loki’s face.
“It was an act perhaps poorly-done. But reparations had to be made for your ruler’s attempt to slay ours,” Thor told the Jotun, feeling obligated to stick with the “official” story.
The first world Asgard had visited once the Bifrost was fully repaired was Jotunheim. In the time that passed since Laufey’s death and the devastation that’d been wrought, they found a realm barely recovered from its damages and full of a cold if impotent bitterness, teetering on the bridge of anarchy. The king had left no clear instructions as to his heir, and his two sons that made a claim for the throne both had detractors that considered them unsuitable. The Jotun had barely avoided a civil war.
Apologies and amends had been offered by the All-Father, and a new truce forged. But it’d been unmistakable at the time that Jotunheim only accepted because they felt they had no choice, being in no position and without resources to wage a new war.
From beneath Thor’s grasp the Jotun leader gathered the breath to sneer at him. “You make your excuses, Odinson, but the posturing of your self-righteous world fools no one. Our king attempted to kill yours, and he was slain. You had your revenge the minute he was struck down. But still you turned your magic on our world in a show of superiority, destroying our cities and killing innocents.”
In dismay Thor pulled back, turning to glance at his friends.
Loki’s expression was still unreadable, aloof to the point of seeming cruel. Sif, Hogun and Fandral were hardened, eyes fierce: but of course they’d been raised to never doubt the actions of their own world over that of a Jotun. Balder seemed to be taking it with a more open mind, for he was frowning and his eyes were wide.
What Thor was most conscious of, feeling the sting of shame, was uncertainty over how the mortals would take this reflection on his home. Stark’s face was hidden, and Barton’s face was almost as blank as the Iron Man’s mask, betrayed only by a slight furrow to his brow. Rogers’ expression boasted more obvious displeasure, but at least for the moment he was holding his tongue, seeming to understand this was no time to voice his opinion.
The Jotun continued, “It gives you satisfaction to see us brought low. Instead of merely destroying us, you leave us crumbling, barely clinging to survival.”
“That isn’t so!” Thor protested. “In light of what happened the All-Father tried to be generous, but-”
“Generous.” The Jotun snorted. “He singlehandedly guaranteed our people are going nowhere, without a leader.”
“You have two,” was Thor’s retort. “Laufey’s heirs agreed to share the throne, and between them-”
“Either you are being mocking, or you know nothing of Laufey’s heirs. Helblindi has a temper so strong and unpredictable as to appear a madman, and Býleistr is a dullard, an inbred fool. And each would gladly murder the other - they only very begrudgingly share power because they know it’s the only way to curry enough favor to hold a throne between them.”
Thor couldn’t think of reply to make to this, for it was news to him.
“Jotunheim’s future,” the warrior breathed, “will be brightest once the kingship falls to a new line. Once someone gathers enough strength, and an army, to seize the throne away from the unworthy hands that now hold it.”
“A political coupe,” Barton commented, sardonic. “Yeah, that’s always what a struggling country needs.”
“More infighting that further divides any resources,” Rogers chimed in. He gave the Jotun on the ground a pointed look. “I get the feeling you’d like to elect yourself to the job.”
Thor fixed the Jotun with a glower of renewed fervor, not having realized he held a would-be usurper in his grasp. “Is this true, giant?” he demanded.
This one was obviously no friend to Asgard, and a warmonger. If somehow he was successful in his bid to claim the throne, it could spell trouble for them later down the line.
But the Jotun’s expression remained defiant, callous. “What if it is, Asgardian? Will you interfere further in the dealings of a world your people claim to have no desire to conquer, and slay me?”
The blow landed successfully - uncertain though his feelings were, Thor knew he could do nothing without naming himself hypocrite. He climbed off the Jotun but kept Mjolnir pointed in the direction of his throat.
“We have no quarrel with you today,” he stated, firm. “I give you but one chance to leave without further incident.”
The Jotun’s burning resentment was clear, but he knew that he had been overpowered. He got to his feet and gathering up his troops they fled the area.
Their mixed band of Asgardians and mortals remained silent as they watched the giants trudge off, until they were well out of sight.
It was Loki who spoke first - subdued but composed, as if nothing had happened. “The cave is not far now.” He pointed. “You can but glimpse it, if you look that way.”
Thor fixed him with a heated gaze. “It will keep, for the moment.”
Loki thinly swallowed but put on a look of perplexed misunderstanding. “But surely it’s unwise to linger with our destination so close at hand.”
“And I say thee again, nay.” Thor turned to catch his friends in a sweeping gaze. “If you will but pardon me, I would have a word with my brother.”
It was Rogers who instantly backed him. “Right,” he said, understanding. “We can wait for you at the cave.” He began herding the others away. “Come on, guys. Let’s give them some privacy.”
Stark was in no place to object, and the others were mostly accustomed to following Thor’s orders. Balder alone looked as though he might argue - he met Loki’s eyes, and the other gave a wordless shake of his head. And so their cousin yielded and went along with the rest.
At first it was but the two of them, and silence broken only by the low whistle of the wind.
Loki gazed off into space and kept turned aside so Thor saw his face in profile. “So what now?” He laughed, mocking. “Will my wise and worldly elder brother instruct me in how wrong of me it was to attack these noble beasts?”
Thor folded his arms. His voice was quiet. “They don’t even realize you exist, you know.”
It was a far cry from what Loki had been expecting. His disdain fell and he looked to Thor with open bewilderment. “What?”
“The Jotun. They only know of you as a former ruler of Asgard. They’ve no idea that Laufey had another son, or if they did they must assume him to be dead.” Thor drew a breath as his brother’s eyes narrowed. “They do not know that you are Laufey’s firstborn, and that it is your right to-”
“No,” Loki cut him off, curt.
“If you could make a strong claim for the throne, think what could be gained. Jotunheim could benefit from a strong leader, and these hostilities would cease.” He gestured with Mjolnir. “What would either realm stand to gain from another war?”
“I imagine the Jotun think they could recover some sense of pride,” was Loki’s response, toneless. “One that will hardly be earned by accepting as their leader a runt, abandoned, and tainted by Asgard.”
Thor gazed at him with an expression that was almost pleading. He did not wish to cast Loki off, but…it seemed a chance to do many the greater good. And Loki could be a good king, he had it in him; he was smart, and powerful, and more than cunning enough for politics and diplomacy.
“You feel nothing for their plight? I thought you had learned. But you still find ways to think others beneath you. Loki, these are your people-”
“They are not,” Loki interrupted with a viciousness. “They are nothing to me! I was taken from this realm when I was too young to remember; I owe it no allegiances.” He broke eye contact, retreating to a mutter. “I may never be able to cast off the poison that is in my blood, but I’ve no desire to embrace it. I know nothing of the ways of this race, and I do not wish to learn.”
“But you could know them,” Thor pressed. “Don’t you see? Laufey has two other sons - you have brothers that you have never met.” Loki bristled.
“And glad am I to keep it that way. I’ve but one brother, and he keeps my hands full enough. Or are you in such a hurry to disown me?”
Thor’s heart sank. “That was not at all what I was trying to say,” he protested, feebly.
He expected Loki to berate him further, but his brother instead was quiet. He waited until the tension had abated from the air before he looked at Thor again, repressing a sigh.
“Well-guided though you may think your intentions, I have no interest in helping Jotunheim. I have no interest in Jotunheim at all. It’s not my world, it will never be my home - all that I want for is Asgard.” He met Thor’s eyes wide, and there was something wounded in them that didn’t seem feigned. “I pledged loyalty again to that throne, and swore to protect our family. Do you doubt my interests?”
“No.” Thor’s reply was swift, but his voice trailed off in remembrance. “Not now. Not in this…”
His head dropped, looking to the white ground beneath his feet. Loki was watching, waiting for him to speak. Thor forced himself to meet his brother’s eyes, burdened by guilt as he made his confession.
“When you disappeared from Asgard, I did not know something had befallen you. Not for certain. I thought you might’ve run.”
“You doubted me, and wondered whether I should be trusted.” Loki shocked him by laughing; “Good for you. So you are learning. At least a little.”
Thor stared at him, both confused and appalled. Loki shook his head with a rueful smile.
“Touching that your continued faith is, brother, I would rather you know me. It would mean so much more to me than your noble unwavering support.”
“But I do know you,” Thor insisted. “I have known you for years.”
“And I’ve changed. And so have you.” Loki circled back to sit on a small flat rock that jutted jarringly out of the otherwise unbroken landscape. He sighed again, looking down at his clasped hands. “I know you mean well, Thor, but at times it feels like you are smothering me.”
“How so?” Thor moved closer to him. Loki gave him a half-lidded look that was reproving.
“You know how. You, our mother, our father…all of you constantly watch, waiting for me to fall again.”
“No! And if we did do such a thing, it would not be out of chastisement! We worry for you. You are still not yourself.”
“And who is that?” Loki sat up straight. “The man that I was before? He’s gone. You’re never getting him back. It’s a waste of time to be waiting for him.” He swallowed. “I will always be shadowed. I will always be…unwell. I can only try to be a little bit better. And I do try. But I can’t change back for you.”
Thor wanted bitterly to argue but found his words dying in his throat. No; his brother was right when he said they both had changed. It was painful to think on. But for what they’d both lost in innocence he hoped they had ultimately gained the ability to be better for it.
“I think,” he tried, careful, “we are wary of history repeating itself. When you pull away, it’s too easy to imagine you nursing a hurt in secret, and we only want to help by stopping a wrong before it starts.”
He had a brother again - their parents had both their children. That wholeness felt all the more precious for how it had once been broken.
Earnestly, Thor told him, “I would never forgive myself if I ruined what we have now by making the same mistakes.”
Loki managed to give him a smile. “They weren’t only your mistakes,” he reminded him. “You must have faith in me not to repeat any of mine, either. How are we ever to be happy if we live in constant pressure and fear?”
Thor gave a sigh of his own, and returned the smile, weakly. “I know,” he admitted. “I just want everything to be perfect.”
“Perfect? Never.” Loki got back to his feet. “Thor, we are family. There will always be grudges, and secrets, and fights. If you can’t understand that then truly, you are lost.”
That statement too, had a powerful ring of truth to it. But instead of prompting Thor to agree, it only reminded him of something. He frowned deeply, thinking.
“What? What is it?”
“The…discussion that we had, Loki, shortly before you left,” Thor began. “About my engagement.”
“You mean the argument,” his brother corrected him with almost comical patience. “We had an argument. Brothers argue.”
“Yes. Fine. As you say,” Thor agreed just a little too sharply, prompting Loki to fall silent. “Was I wrong in thinking you were trying to talk me out of this? That you do not want me married to Jane?”
Loki pressed his mouth into a line. “It’s not the woman herself, precisely, that I object to,” he replied cagily.
“Then what?” Thor demanded. Loki had had cruel words about Jane in the past - but that was when they had still been enemies. He would’ve thought by now his brother would’ve at least learned to tolerate her. “Do you not want me to get married? You know that I love her.”
“I know,” Loki replied, soft.
“Then what else would you have me do?” He was growing aggravated in spite of himself. “Do you really dislike Jane so much?”
“I told you I’ve no objection to her. I already said as much. I only don’t think-”
“Don’t think that it’s a good idea. Yes, you said that before too, when we first talked of this!”
“And you grew angry at me then, the same as you are now, and refused to listen to what I was trying to tell you,” Loki noted, tartly. “If you want to know the truth then, yes, I confess I am trying to make you reconsider your engagement. But not for the reasons you presume.”
“Then what?” Thor cried.
“I only want you to stop and think,” Loki insisted slowly, seriously. “She’s mortal, Thor. Have you considered what that will mean?”
Thor eyed him. “Do you think her beneath me?” he asked stiffly. “Will it be hard to accept her as your queen?”
“Oh, for Ymir’s sake!” Loki was desperately exasperated. “Do you remember what happened to the Valkyries?” It seemed an odd thing to bring up - Thor just stared at him, so Loki continued. “They were mortal women too, brought to live on Asgard among Asgardians, and fed golden apples to increase their longevity. Some of them married Asgardian men, and had half-Asgardian children. But are there any of them left now?”
“No,” Thor answered, blankly, “they-”
“They grew old. Even with the gift of the apples, they aged far faster than us. They withered, they faded. And eventually they died of old age.” Loki gazed at him, his face hard. “And that is what will happen to your true love as well.”
Thor was unnerved by his brother’s expression. But he twisted his head, and tried to shake it off. “I am no fool, Loki. I know that no magic in all the Nine Realms will ever make Jane anything but mortal. I have accepted that. I wouldn’t want to change her, even if I could.”
“You say that but I doubt you have really thought about it,” Loki countered. “You’ll have many years together, hundreds, thousands maybe, and then what? She’ll age right in front of you. You’ll watch her die.”
“Loki, stop,” Thor ordered. But his brother refused to heed him.
“You’ll outlive her. Asgard will have a widower for a king. And what of your heirs? What if they favor her bloodline, and the apples and your strength isn’t enough? They might die before they even make it to the throne. You’ll outlive your own children.” Loki’s voice turned briefly bitter: “Ask our aunt if you think that an easy pain to bear.”
“Enough,” Thor broke in, and this time he was sharp enough that Loki listened to him. “Why are you taunting me with this?” he demanded, pained.
“I am not taunting you. But this is my point exactly,” Loki breathed in fervor. “I’m only trying to spare you this suffering.”
It took Thor a moment to be able to respond. He swayed slightly, a burning knot inside his throat, at the thought of the future Loki promised him. The way his brother painted it, it sounded so bleak.
“But what of how we both would suffer, were I to send Jane away?” he asked.
Loki looked back at him stonily, and for all his resolution Thor knew he didn’t have an answer.
He took another breath, regaining his composure before he continued to speak. “You are not wrong, in what you say. Someday Jane will die. It will undoubtedly be before me. Any children that we may have might as well.” He shook his head, eyes shining. “I will mourn her, and for a while I will be lost. But before that happens we will have a lifetime of happiness together. Is that not worth any pain?”
Loki remained silent. Thor could see his throat working, the lights of his eyes flickering uneasily.
“Everything ends. In life, there is always joy before there is sorrow,” Thor declared. “You must risk one in order to experience the other.”
“But why risk it?” Loki broke in, sounding despondent. “Why take any chance at all?”
“You surprise me. I had thought you more bold than that,” Thor chided him, gentle, but then his voice grew bittersweet. “But it is true, that this is what at times worries me about you, brother. You are too afraid of pain - of letting your heart be wounded. You would rather live an empty life, then expose yourself to happiness and then risk losing it. But think of all you would miss!”
He clasped Loki firmly at the back of the neck, drawing the other to him. There was a conflicted look on Loki’s face. He seemed almost too afraid to speak.
“I was only trying to look out for you,” he repeated at last. “I swear it was my only thought.”
“I know,” Thor said kindly. “And I thank you for it. But this is one decision that I can only make for myself. Even with the consequences, I still choose Jane Foster.”
And it did occur to Thor, to mention that Loki was also in love with a mortal woman. But he thought better of it. Besides, considering the way his brother’s thoughts tended to twist around, it was entirely possible that Darcy was already on Loki’s mind; that maybe even the concern he spoke of had more to do with himself than with Thor.
“I suppose,” Loki concluded slowly, eyes drifting upward with the hooded glint reserved only for his deepest thoughts, “that it does take a kind of bravery to love.”
“Nonsense.” Thor let his hand drop. “It is the most natural thing in the world!”
Loki gave a quiet, annoyed chuckle. “Of course it is. For you.”
Thor shook his head with an unconcerned smile. “Come. I think we’ve talked long enough, and hopefully said what needed saying. It’s time to return to those we care about and that wait for us.”
It had been long enough an adventure for Thor, and even longer still for Loki. Their friends and family were waiting - and, assuming things hadn’t somehow resolved themselves on Asgard, needed them.
He reached out again, this time to give Loki’s shoulder a brief squeeze. “Let’s go home.”
*
In the wake of their leaving Jotunheim, neither Thor nor Loki nor any of the others spared a thought for the band of giants they had rousted.
If pressed to the point, they would’ve assumed the Jotun warriors had long gone, moved off to some other locale and entirely new if unknown destination. That after having been defeated the giants would mutter amongst themselves and nurse their wounds and never look back.
In this they would have been completely mistaken.
Perhaps half an hour after the heroes had left the realm, the Frost Giants came back. In sharp-eyed silence they marched, armed with clubs and icy swords, their leader at the forefront.
Hate-filled and arrogant though he was, the Jotun was no fool. The appearance of a group of Asgardians travelling through their realm, openly defying the truce and risking reprisal, was hardly unremarkable.
Their people were, after all, so blind and stupid with loyalty. If they were poking around Jotunheim, out here in the middle of nowhere, then there had to be a reason.
He and his men returned once enough time had passed they deemed it safe, and started searching the area.
It didn’t take them long to find the cave.
And once that had done, it took them even less time to notice at the very back of it where there should have been nothing but an icy stone wall, something…wavered. Glistened.
The leader of the Jotun crept forward, hand outstretched cautiously. As soon as his long black-tipped fingers met the dancing wave of energy he pulled them back.
And grinned. Horribly.
No sorcerer or scholar was he, but it took hardly a passing knowledge of magics to understand what he was looking at. And it took very little creativity to guess where this pathway probably led.
“Asgard,” the giant breathed in a mean hiss, red eyes narrowing at the promise of invasion - power, glory, vengeance.
Blood.
LINK TO PART SEVEN
Thor and the others’ reaction to seeing Balder, alive again and relatively well, was if possible even more stunned and amazed than Loki’s own. But it was no surprise at all once they got over their astonishment they were incredibly happy to see him.
They crowded around him, clasping his arm and touching fingers to his now pale hair in wonder as they made exclamations. Balder was hailed like a returning prodigal son. And it was agreed unanimously it was a good day for Asgard indeed.
It wasn’t often, after all, that the dead came back to life. Let alone one who had been so honored and loved as Balder.
Balder took it well for the most part, returning their greetings and embraces with a bright smile, though uneasiness still hung over him. He recognized Thor and the others only just barely, and it was arguable whether he even truly remembered them. Instead of feeling relief at finding a place he belonged he acted as if he’d been overwhelmed.
Perhaps out of respect for the others’ obvious happiness he was kind and warm in response. Though while with them repeatedly his eyes sought out Loki’s, as if needing reassurance.
When it was explained what had happened to Balder, how he was still not quite himself, the Asgardians were dismayed but, for their people, relatively understanding. They took Balder’s amnesia, his lack of certainty, his change in appearance, his technical pacifism - and the looks on their faces when they heard that! - and said that him being miraculously alive outweighed it all.
Still, there were already marks in their behavior that showed something like pity. Their voices were quiet when they spoke to Balder, and often they wore sad and placating smiles. Overall they were acting as if Balder was an invalid, or a man whose mind had gone feeble - hardly an auspicious homecoming for the once God of Light.
Loki felt sour, and a bit angry, but it was what he’d already expected. He could only try to ignore the voice that said it was cruelty for him to bring Balder home to such a fate.
“Only imagine the look on Nanna’s face when she sees us returned home,” Fandral exclaimed, unaware to the cloud that hung over Loki’s head. “Just think of it!” He was grinning overtly at the poetic irony of it all. “She sent Loki away to punish him, and here he is returning the favor by bringing her back her son. Now there’s gratitude for you.”
“Yes,” Loki replied, absently. He looked over his shoulder and flinched when he saw Balder standing off to the side talking to the man in the star-marked uniform. “Oh no - who let him near to Steve? That’s a dangerous amount of nobility in such a small space.”
Fandral was also looking at Balder though he didn’t seem to have heard him. “I do hope she’ll be happy, for a change,” he continued, musing. “Only it’s a shame that he’s gotten so very fat.”
Loki’s head twisted around and he stared at him. “What?” he countered, dumbfounded. “What are you talking about? No he hasn’t.”
Fandral gave a less than convinced frown and exchanged a look with Sif and Hogun.
“He is a bit thicker than he was in the old days,” Sif backed him up.
“Definitely more on the pudgy side, now,” Hogun agreed.
“Wha-” Loki’s eyes darted between each of their faces, searching for a sign they were toying with him. Instead they only gazed back in earnest confusion, eyebrows up slightly, as if he were the one being odd. He scoffed, incredulous. “Well, fine. If that’s what you’re all convinced of, then so be it.”
The three warriors exchanged another significant look. Loki threw up his hands and walked away, deciding he was done with them in disgust.
Loki had already changed back to his true, male Asgardian form before they had left the confines of the city, and now there was no trace of Throkk to be found anywhere save a politely worded letter of resignation on both her behalf and Balder’s, which would no doubt make Nezzori tear his hair out in despair. The man had probably grown accustomed to the luxurious income his ‘talented sapphire’ afforded him, and would likely come to some outlandish conclusion that the dancer and her bodyguard had run off together, and curse himself for being an overindulgent fool.
Once the group was together again Thor had wanted to summon the Bifrost to leave immediately, but Loki convinced him to wait, for after having been filled in on the happenings in his absence he wasn’t sure that was entirely a good idea.
“We may want to take one of the secret paths home,” Loki explained to him. “It might be better if we don’t announce our return openly.”
“But why? Time is of the essence. Why waste it with these foolish games?”
“It isn’t a game at all. I want you to think for a moment. You say it wasn’t until right after I left that Jane began behaving oddly. That it became as if she was placed under some spell.”
“Yes,” Thor answered, and then was taken aback as he latched onto what Loki was suggesting. “You don’t think that our aunts could’ve had something to do with that as well?”
“They wanted me out of the way. The more I think on it the more I’m convinced there had to be more than a simple reason. No,” Loki murmured, “it would be odder were the two events not connected.”
“But this is outrageous! They had no right to attempt to banish you, and to place some curse on their future queen?” Thor expounded hotly. “It’s almost as good as a direct act against the crown! Why, it’s-”
“Treason?” Loki finished for him, tersely. “Yes, Thor, it is. Which is why we should be very, very careful about coming into Asgard until we know exactly where we stand.”
Thor slumped, arms hanging from his shoulders. “If not by Bifrost, then how are we to go back?”
“Don’t worry.” Loki gave him a sharp-edged smile. “I have something of a plan.”
His long and fruitless search for a tear in Yggdrasil over the past few weeks should’ve made relying on one now seem like a bad idea, but things had changed - Loki had a secret weapon.
Though of the few mortal scientists in his acquaintance now many would scoff at the idea, in his curiosity Loki had made enough study of their work to be aware of the many places where it and his sorcery overlapped.
And Tony Stark had been so kind enough to bring along his marvelous flying suit that could scan across great distances for patterns of energy.
It was only a matter of Loki being able to tell him what to look for.
They made camp for the night in a clearing several miles from the city. While the others took turns standing guard in shifts, Loki and Tony spent most of the hours they should’ve been sleeping working out an equation to translate what Loki needed into data that the armor could scan with its systems. Frequent sarcastic remarks aside, the human inventor threw himself into the process with an excited fervor he had towards most of his projects, and even under duress Loki was more than able to match his enthusiasm.
Over the years Loki had found he and this particular former adversary got along best when they communicated in the language of numbers and discovery.
By morning both were groggy, red-eyed, and many of their companions worse for wear for having slept on the damp and chilly ground. But they had the solution they needed. Stark quickly booted up his armor and took off.
Hawkeye watched his exhaust trail long after he had faded into the distance. “So. What now?” He looked at the motley assembly of Asgardians and Avengers wryly. “Anyone want to play poker until he returns?”
Somehow Thor, Sif, Fandral and Hogun simultaneously came up with the idea to pass the time by interrogating poor Balder some more. Loki would’ve moved to save him, but was stopped by a timely hand on his shoulder.
He turned around to see Captain America smiling at him faintly, cowl draped back over his shoulders. “Hey there, stranger.”
“Steve,” Loki greeted him with belated if genuine warmness, extending a hand for a tight forearm clasp and a pat on the back. “It has been awhile since we’ve seen one another, hasn’t it?” And he’d been so busy they day before the two of them had barely exchanged glances, let alone words.
“Uh, at least a few months.” Steve gave a quiet chuckle. “How have you been?”
“I,” Loki hesitated. He stole another glance at his cousin, worried.
“You’re protective of him, aren’t you?” Steve noted.
“Some might say I have a lot to make up for in concern of his wellbeing,” Loki said, quiet.
“It’s all right, though; I think he can handle himself,” was the mortal’s confident estimation. “I talked to him before. He’s good people. Come on: you and I’ve got some catching up to do.”
A few hours later Iron Man returned and landed semi-gracefully in midst of their gathering.
“Well. It took some doing,” he informed them, visor turning in the direction of Loki. “But I think I found what you need.”
Thor and Stark took turns ferrying the rest of the party to the location of the naturally-formed energy bridge, not wanting to wait the time necessary for everyone to walk. Thor brought over Loki first, and by the time the last of the others had arrived he was crouched down with both hands raised, magic flickering between them, caught up in heavy concentration.
“So what’s the verdict?” Steve asked, first to break the silence. “Is it what you were looking for?”
“It is definitely a ripple in Yggdrasil where one can pass through, yes.” Loki’s mouth barely moved as he answered, eyes fixatedly tracking the patterns of the magic.
“So you can use it to take us back to Asgard,” Sif concluded.
Slowly Loki turned his head to look at them all over his shoulder. His mouth split and stretched in a grin that brought to mind his darker days.
“No, not to Asgard, I’m afraid,” he said, bleakly amused. “This one goes to Jotunheim.”
*
In Thor’s estimation, Jotunheim looked no different than the last time he had visited.
The home of the Frost Giants was still to his eyes little more than a frozen waste, with cracked and uneven terrain and howling winds of most biting cold. Uncomfortable, possibly deadly, even to an Asgardian.
As the group stood there shivering, Loki conjured fur pelts from thin air and passed them out. All accepted gratefully, save Stark, who waved the offering away. It seemed cold was yet another thing his fantastic armor protected from.
The mortal took to the air gracefully while the rest of them were still recovering their bearings, and reported he was finding no signs of life in the surrounding area. It seemed they had been jettisoned in yet another of the vast stretches on the world far from any civilization, neither beast nor being wandering within their sight.
Given the nature of the denizens of this particular realm, and the hostile reaction they’d give coming across intruders, it was news for which they should probably be thanking their luck, and only hoping it’d hold.
It seemed universally understood it’d do them little good to linger. They walked with almost no chatter, preferring to save their strength for movement. It was slow going in what felt like a small but continuous battle against the elements.
Jotunheim was a poorly-lit realm to begin with and sight was hampered further by the falling snow. Thor could not tell the difference between one direction and another.
Loki however seemed to know where he was going, and so they followed his lead.
Thor had to confess the plan didn’t make much in the way of sense to him. Going from Svartalfheim to Jotunheim, and then trekking across Jotunheim before returning to Asgard, was a dangerous prospect and certainly would take much longer than summoning the Bifrost. It seemed needlessly complicated, all for the sake of gaining some small element of stealth.
But Loki had been insistent he could get them home in relatively little time, and that this detour through Jotunheim was essential. And Thor had decided to trust his brother.
Whether he gave that trust because he truly felt it in his heart, or out of some lingering sense of guilt, he couldn’t be sure of. But he chose not to examine too thoroughly his reasoning.
As they made their way in a staggered line, Thor’s gaze wandered onto his brother. Loki had taken only the lightest of cloaks himself, and seemed relatively unbothered by the cold. But no doubt their childhood companions hadn’t noticed, or if they did thought nothing of it. Thor thought back to how in their youth Loki had stood immune to cooler temperatures; to times when his skin had been cold, even clammy to the touch.
It was almost odd to look back and think no one had ever wondered, that no questions had ever been asked. How different their lives might’ve been, were Loki’s secret uncovered early? Would it have spared them the pain of their later years - or it would it have only caused Loki meeting a much worse fate?
But it did no good, questioning the past.
“How much farther?” Rogers called out, raising his voice against the scrape of the frigid air.
“Shouldn’t be long.” Loki stopped, turning sideways so he could face them and be heard clearly without having to yell. “I’ve a more than passing familiarity with this area.” He started walking again, slowly at first, then making his stride longer so the others were forced to keep moving and follow him up the slope he climbed. “There should be a small cave, a few hours north of here. There’s a ripple there that will take us to Asgard.”
“You’ve been this way before,” Fandral remarked. “Are we tracing back the route you followed all those weeks ago?”
Loki didn’t stop, didn’t turn. “No.”
Thor faltered, touched at once by grim knowledge, but said nothing. He found he didn’t have to at the looks dawning on Sif, Hogun and Fandral’s faces.
“The attack before Thor’s coronation,” Hogun realized, “when you led the Giants into the lowest vault. This is the way that you showed them.”
“Yes.” Loki’s shoulders were raised, stiff and close by his ears, when he stole another glance back at them. “And a good thing I did too, wouldn’t you say, since it does us so much benefit now.”
There was a note of challenge, almost haughty, to Loki’s tone.
But underneath Thor heard what he suspected no one else would: that Loki was tired.
It was an old wound - maybe not comparatively so, in the length of their lives, but one their group of immediate friends was supposed to have dealt with and moved past by now. But the three warriors had fallen silent, and one could see the traces of anger trying to surface in their expressions. It was hard to ignore, and equally hard to fault them for it: this reminder of what they considered Loki’s first betrayal.
Barton spoke up, and Thor got the distinct sense he was trying to change the subject. “If I understand what you’re saying right, we’re going to be ending up inside some kind of treasury, then? Are we going to have any problems breaking out of it?”
“We should not. The guards certainly will not attack us, and the magical defenses are designed only to activate against a threat to Asgard,” Thor said helpfully.
“And it will save us time by bringing us already within the palace,” Sif added, begrudgingly.
They made it over the slanting terrain and at the top found themselves at the beginning of a flat, even expanse. Continuing their walk they began to notice when the torrent of frigid snow yielded.
Fandral tilted his head back, beaming cheerfully at the turn of events. “Well, then. Finally.” He spread his arms and chortled. “That makes things far less unpleasant, then, wouldn’t you say-?”
His words died as he looked forward and the color drained from his face. Instinctive alarm went through the group and hands reached for weapons as they took in what the cleared-away haze revealed: they were not alone.
Straight in front of their party and staring directly at them were a dozen Jotun.
The Asgardians reacted mostly with battle-hardened determination; the mortals with the same tinged by varying degrees of surprise, since it was the first any of them had actually seen this particular race.
Barton silently drew his bow taut and Rogers let out a gentlemanly curse, and from behind them Stark was heard to mutter distantly, “Oh, right…Frost Giants.”
Even though Thor immediately hefted Mjolnir high in his fist, as he gazed across the short distance between them he tried to think what to say: how to convey to the Jotun there need be no quarrel if only they would stand down and let them pass.
But there was no chance to speak. Too quickly the Jotun identified what they were looking at, and hate bloomed in their expressions. They rushed forward with snarls and frozen weapons forming on their hands to attack.
Before the two sides even reached each other an initial volley was exchanged. Barton’s first arrow landed with perfect accuracy in the joint of one Jotun’s shoulder, but the giant shrugged off the blow with little more than a growl of pain. The archer swiftly reloaded and took aim at another enemy, this time choosing a knee as a target, and got more of a reaction as the wounded individual howled and dropped to one leg. Stark launched a barrage of both projectiles and energy blasts from his gauntlets, but the Jotun proved unnervingly good at smacking the smaller weapons out of the sky, and bullets did them no damage. And Loki hurled from his fist a twisting acid-green spell; it hit one giant square in the chest and wrapped around his throat like a snake, choking him, and then when it brought him to his knees leaped higher to tear into his face.
Thor thought he identified the leader of the Jotun’s group by his square helmet and the broad shoulder-pads of his frozen armor. He picked the warrior directly to the left of that one and threw Mjolnir at him, striking him in the center of his torso with full force and knocking him down and back, out of the fight. With a gesture the hammer flew back to Thor’s waiting fist.
By then the Jotun had about reached where they were standing and his band of friends had run forward the last distance to meet them. Hogun and Fandral worked in a team, taunting and distracting a single target until they could trip him and bring him low, where their weapons might be of some use. Rogers hurled his shield as a discus, ricocheting off two warriors and wounding them both in the process, the object returning to him in time for him to smash a nearer giant in his outstretched hands. Balder stayed near the edge of the fray, making small advances with his blade.
The Jotun roared in renewed fury. They slashed and hacked at their smaller foes with the icy extensions of their arms, shaped into cutlasses and maces and pickaxes.
Sif crouched low behind her shield, keeping it raised before her face with one hand, while she used her glaive to stab upward at a distance. “Do not let their hands make contact!” she called to the mortals in warning.
“Got it. Thanks,” Barton huffed. Dancing and weaving to avoid giants reaching down for him with curled claws, he fired off another arrow - the telltale flickering of a tiny light on its shaft gave it away as an explosive.
It landed in the snow, point-first. A nearby Jotun snatched it up with a mean grin, likely mistaking a failure on the human’s part and intending to use it as a spear. It detonated right in his face.
Thor found himself surrounded by a cluster of Frost Giants and fought furiously to get clear, pummeling them with his hammer. Nearby Rogers found himself in a similar situation and the two wordlessly worked their way in each other’s direction so they could fight together.
As they stood back to back, with some effort besting the larger opponents, the Captain called to him stridently, “Thor! What’s the play here?”
He understood what his friend was asking. The Jotun were enemies of Asgard, and they attacked first…but the Avengers were warriors of decency. Thor set his mouth, considering.
“Fight to wound, only!” he yelled out, loud enough so all could hear him. “We are under a treaty with these people!”
Rogers nodded in understanding, too winded to speak. But he sent one giant staggering with a gloved fist undercut to his jaw, then using his opponent’s shoulder as a fulcrum leapt up and over, making another flying leap to kick a standing giant while simultaneously concussing another with his shield.
Momentarily clear, Thor caught his breath, tightening his grip on Mjolnir as he turned to seek another foe.
What he saw instead was Loki using a staff he must have summoned to attack a giant viciously. His brother’s teeth were bared as he swung with brutal force then stomped on the Jotun’s chest with his boot after the other was already down. He jabbed the staff’s end into the giant, jolting with sparks of manic green energy that drew agonized cries, wanting to make the end as painful as possible.
The sorcerer-prince was clearly not holding back to wound. His intentions were fatal.
“Loki!” Thor shouted at him, as much warning as an order. Loki relinquished his hold and pulled back, leaving the Jotun gasping and writhing but for the moment still alive.
The look he shot Thor’s direction was far from apologetic: a withering scowl full of disdain and resentment, eyes agleam with a hollow, sinister drive. Thor clutched Mjolnir tighter and for a horrifying moment found himself sketching an attack against Loki, having been thrown back in time to a point when his brother was a dangerous enemy.
A startled shout from one of their allies distracted both of them. The Jotun had started using their power over the terrain against them, summoning up long deadly spikes of ice at unpredictable intervals. There were several close calls as the others jumped out of the way in the nick of time.
Balder leapt out of the way of being impaled with surprising agility. A giant tried to seize him by the edge of his cape, but he shook it off, using both shield and sword against his attacker while skillfully avoiding the risk of doing any mortal injury.
Sif found herself suddenly surrounded, caged in by a ring of ice to her back and attacking Jotun to her front. Loki went to aid her with his throwing knives.
Stark had until this point been doing an excellent job flying overhead and shooting the Jotun with blasts from his gauntlets, the heat doing almost as much damage as the repulsive force. A giant suddenly managed to grab him, wrapping both hands around with a vicious fervor as it coated him in ice.
The armor’s surface made this a difficult task, however.
“What’s the matter, Jack Frost? Never seen a guy wearing an ice-resistant gold alloy befor-”
Stark was cut off mid-taunt as in frustration the giant swatted him to the ground. Both Hogun and Rogers rushed to their fallen ally, pulling him out of the snow and helping him to his feet.
Thor had had enough - it was time to end this battle. Half the Jotun were down, either senseless or too injured, and many of those still fighting were showing signs that their energy was beginning to flag. With his hammer he pounded the ground, cracking open the ice and knocking down a few more with the vibration. Spinning about, his eyes landed on the leader.
Taking advantage of the distraction he raced forward and tackled the Jotun to the ground. Kneeling atop the other, keeping him pinned, Thor then wrenched up one of the ice spikes by the root and with both hands pressed it down on the leader’s throat.
“Yield,” he demanded in a bellow. The Jotun struggled, but he pushed him back down. “You have lost this fight! Yield, and we will have no reason to do further damage to any of your people!”
The Jotun snarled at him, but begrudgingly twisted his head to address his men. “Stand down,” he barked.
The Frost Giants pulled back, nursing their wounds and muttering. Thor didn’t risk looking away, but as best he could moved his eyes to see how the others were doing.
Barton was helping Fandral wrap a wound on his arm, the latter boasting a deep gash of his own across one shoulder. Loki knelt beside a pale and quiet Sif, healing some injury, while Balder hovered over them both. Hogun and Rogers walked with the Man of Iron slung between them, one arm held across each their shoulders.
“That was fun,” Stark was saying, woozily. “A real blast. They should consider putting that ride in at Universal.”
“Tony, shut up,” Rogers told him, not unkindly. “Save your strength.”
“I’m hearing ringing. Is…does anyone else hear ringing?”
A low growl from the Jotun leader caught Thor’s attention again, and he shoved at him once more.
“There was no need for you to attack us,” he told the Jotun reproachfully. “We are in your land but by accident, and mean you no harm.”
The Jotun gave a derisive laugh. “No harm?” he repeated in his hissing, craggy voice. “Your war-loving race always means harm to ours. Peace between us can only be but a farce.”
“Nonetheless it is a peace we have.” Thor tried not to sound too begrudging as he continued, “I understand why it might be hard to trust our people given the history-”
“History has nothing to do with it. Unless you consider turning the Bifrost to rip apart our world a few scant years ago an event of history.”
Thor stole a guilty look towards his brother. But there was not an ounce of expression on Loki’s face.
“It was an act perhaps poorly-done. But reparations had to be made for your ruler’s attempt to slay ours,” Thor told the Jotun, feeling obligated to stick with the “official” story.
The first world Asgard had visited once the Bifrost was fully repaired was Jotunheim. In the time that passed since Laufey’s death and the devastation that’d been wrought, they found a realm barely recovered from its damages and full of a cold if impotent bitterness, teetering on the bridge of anarchy. The king had left no clear instructions as to his heir, and his two sons that made a claim for the throne both had detractors that considered them unsuitable. The Jotun had barely avoided a civil war.
Apologies and amends had been offered by the All-Father, and a new truce forged. But it’d been unmistakable at the time that Jotunheim only accepted because they felt they had no choice, being in no position and without resources to wage a new war.
From beneath Thor’s grasp the Jotun leader gathered the breath to sneer at him. “You make your excuses, Odinson, but the posturing of your self-righteous world fools no one. Our king attempted to kill yours, and he was slain. You had your revenge the minute he was struck down. But still you turned your magic on our world in a show of superiority, destroying our cities and killing innocents.”
In dismay Thor pulled back, turning to glance at his friends.
Loki’s expression was still unreadable, aloof to the point of seeming cruel. Sif, Hogun and Fandral were hardened, eyes fierce: but of course they’d been raised to never doubt the actions of their own world over that of a Jotun. Balder seemed to be taking it with a more open mind, for he was frowning and his eyes were wide.
What Thor was most conscious of, feeling the sting of shame, was uncertainty over how the mortals would take this reflection on his home. Stark’s face was hidden, and Barton’s face was almost as blank as the Iron Man’s mask, betrayed only by a slight furrow to his brow. Rogers’ expression boasted more obvious displeasure, but at least for the moment he was holding his tongue, seeming to understand this was no time to voice his opinion.
The Jotun continued, “It gives you satisfaction to see us brought low. Instead of merely destroying us, you leave us crumbling, barely clinging to survival.”
“That isn’t so!” Thor protested. “In light of what happened the All-Father tried to be generous, but-”
“Generous.” The Jotun snorted. “He singlehandedly guaranteed our people are going nowhere, without a leader.”
“You have two,” was Thor’s retort. “Laufey’s heirs agreed to share the throne, and between them-”
“Either you are being mocking, or you know nothing of Laufey’s heirs. Helblindi has a temper so strong and unpredictable as to appear a madman, and Býleistr is a dullard, an inbred fool. And each would gladly murder the other - they only very begrudgingly share power because they know it’s the only way to curry enough favor to hold a throne between them.”
Thor couldn’t think of reply to make to this, for it was news to him.
“Jotunheim’s future,” the warrior breathed, “will be brightest once the kingship falls to a new line. Once someone gathers enough strength, and an army, to seize the throne away from the unworthy hands that now hold it.”
“A political coupe,” Barton commented, sardonic. “Yeah, that’s always what a struggling country needs.”
“More infighting that further divides any resources,” Rogers chimed in. He gave the Jotun on the ground a pointed look. “I get the feeling you’d like to elect yourself to the job.”
Thor fixed the Jotun with a glower of renewed fervor, not having realized he held a would-be usurper in his grasp. “Is this true, giant?” he demanded.
This one was obviously no friend to Asgard, and a warmonger. If somehow he was successful in his bid to claim the throne, it could spell trouble for them later down the line.
But the Jotun’s expression remained defiant, callous. “What if it is, Asgardian? Will you interfere further in the dealings of a world your people claim to have no desire to conquer, and slay me?”
The blow landed successfully - uncertain though his feelings were, Thor knew he could do nothing without naming himself hypocrite. He climbed off the Jotun but kept Mjolnir pointed in the direction of his throat.
“We have no quarrel with you today,” he stated, firm. “I give you but one chance to leave without further incident.”
The Jotun’s burning resentment was clear, but he knew that he had been overpowered. He got to his feet and gathering up his troops they fled the area.
Their mixed band of Asgardians and mortals remained silent as they watched the giants trudge off, until they were well out of sight.
It was Loki who spoke first - subdued but composed, as if nothing had happened. “The cave is not far now.” He pointed. “You can but glimpse it, if you look that way.”
Thor fixed him with a heated gaze. “It will keep, for the moment.”
Loki thinly swallowed but put on a look of perplexed misunderstanding. “But surely it’s unwise to linger with our destination so close at hand.”
“And I say thee again, nay.” Thor turned to catch his friends in a sweeping gaze. “If you will but pardon me, I would have a word with my brother.”
It was Rogers who instantly backed him. “Right,” he said, understanding. “We can wait for you at the cave.” He began herding the others away. “Come on, guys. Let’s give them some privacy.”
Stark was in no place to object, and the others were mostly accustomed to following Thor’s orders. Balder alone looked as though he might argue - he met Loki’s eyes, and the other gave a wordless shake of his head. And so their cousin yielded and went along with the rest.
At first it was but the two of them, and silence broken only by the low whistle of the wind.
Loki gazed off into space and kept turned aside so Thor saw his face in profile. “So what now?” He laughed, mocking. “Will my wise and worldly elder brother instruct me in how wrong of me it was to attack these noble beasts?”
Thor folded his arms. His voice was quiet. “They don’t even realize you exist, you know.”
It was a far cry from what Loki had been expecting. His disdain fell and he looked to Thor with open bewilderment. “What?”
“The Jotun. They only know of you as a former ruler of Asgard. They’ve no idea that Laufey had another son, or if they did they must assume him to be dead.” Thor drew a breath as his brother’s eyes narrowed. “They do not know that you are Laufey’s firstborn, and that it is your right to-”
“No,” Loki cut him off, curt.
“If you could make a strong claim for the throne, think what could be gained. Jotunheim could benefit from a strong leader, and these hostilities would cease.” He gestured with Mjolnir. “What would either realm stand to gain from another war?”
“I imagine the Jotun think they could recover some sense of pride,” was Loki’s response, toneless. “One that will hardly be earned by accepting as their leader a runt, abandoned, and tainted by Asgard.”
Thor gazed at him with an expression that was almost pleading. He did not wish to cast Loki off, but…it seemed a chance to do many the greater good. And Loki could be a good king, he had it in him; he was smart, and powerful, and more than cunning enough for politics and diplomacy.
“You feel nothing for their plight? I thought you had learned. But you still find ways to think others beneath you. Loki, these are your people-”
“They are not,” Loki interrupted with a viciousness. “They are nothing to me! I was taken from this realm when I was too young to remember; I owe it no allegiances.” He broke eye contact, retreating to a mutter. “I may never be able to cast off the poison that is in my blood, but I’ve no desire to embrace it. I know nothing of the ways of this race, and I do not wish to learn.”
“But you could know them,” Thor pressed. “Don’t you see? Laufey has two other sons - you have brothers that you have never met.” Loki bristled.
“And glad am I to keep it that way. I’ve but one brother, and he keeps my hands full enough. Or are you in such a hurry to disown me?”
Thor’s heart sank. “That was not at all what I was trying to say,” he protested, feebly.
He expected Loki to berate him further, but his brother instead was quiet. He waited until the tension had abated from the air before he looked at Thor again, repressing a sigh.
“Well-guided though you may think your intentions, I have no interest in helping Jotunheim. I have no interest in Jotunheim at all. It’s not my world, it will never be my home - all that I want for is Asgard.” He met Thor’s eyes wide, and there was something wounded in them that didn’t seem feigned. “I pledged loyalty again to that throne, and swore to protect our family. Do you doubt my interests?”
“No.” Thor’s reply was swift, but his voice trailed off in remembrance. “Not now. Not in this…”
His head dropped, looking to the white ground beneath his feet. Loki was watching, waiting for him to speak. Thor forced himself to meet his brother’s eyes, burdened by guilt as he made his confession.
“When you disappeared from Asgard, I did not know something had befallen you. Not for certain. I thought you might’ve run.”
“You doubted me, and wondered whether I should be trusted.” Loki shocked him by laughing; “Good for you. So you are learning. At least a little.”
Thor stared at him, both confused and appalled. Loki shook his head with a rueful smile.
“Touching that your continued faith is, brother, I would rather you know me. It would mean so much more to me than your noble unwavering support.”
“But I do know you,” Thor insisted. “I have known you for years.”
“And I’ve changed. And so have you.” Loki circled back to sit on a small flat rock that jutted jarringly out of the otherwise unbroken landscape. He sighed again, looking down at his clasped hands. “I know you mean well, Thor, but at times it feels like you are smothering me.”
“How so?” Thor moved closer to him. Loki gave him a half-lidded look that was reproving.
“You know how. You, our mother, our father…all of you constantly watch, waiting for me to fall again.”
“No! And if we did do such a thing, it would not be out of chastisement! We worry for you. You are still not yourself.”
“And who is that?” Loki sat up straight. “The man that I was before? He’s gone. You’re never getting him back. It’s a waste of time to be waiting for him.” He swallowed. “I will always be shadowed. I will always be…unwell. I can only try to be a little bit better. And I do try. But I can’t change back for you.”
Thor wanted bitterly to argue but found his words dying in his throat. No; his brother was right when he said they both had changed. It was painful to think on. But for what they’d both lost in innocence he hoped they had ultimately gained the ability to be better for it.
“I think,” he tried, careful, “we are wary of history repeating itself. When you pull away, it’s too easy to imagine you nursing a hurt in secret, and we only want to help by stopping a wrong before it starts.”
He had a brother again - their parents had both their children. That wholeness felt all the more precious for how it had once been broken.
Earnestly, Thor told him, “I would never forgive myself if I ruined what we have now by making the same mistakes.”
Loki managed to give him a smile. “They weren’t only your mistakes,” he reminded him. “You must have faith in me not to repeat any of mine, either. How are we ever to be happy if we live in constant pressure and fear?”
Thor gave a sigh of his own, and returned the smile, weakly. “I know,” he admitted. “I just want everything to be perfect.”
“Perfect? Never.” Loki got back to his feet. “Thor, we are family. There will always be grudges, and secrets, and fights. If you can’t understand that then truly, you are lost.”
That statement too, had a powerful ring of truth to it. But instead of prompting Thor to agree, it only reminded him of something. He frowned deeply, thinking.
“What? What is it?”
“The…discussion that we had, Loki, shortly before you left,” Thor began. “About my engagement.”
“You mean the argument,” his brother corrected him with almost comical patience. “We had an argument. Brothers argue.”
“Yes. Fine. As you say,” Thor agreed just a little too sharply, prompting Loki to fall silent. “Was I wrong in thinking you were trying to talk me out of this? That you do not want me married to Jane?”
Loki pressed his mouth into a line. “It’s not the woman herself, precisely, that I object to,” he replied cagily.
“Then what?” Thor demanded. Loki had had cruel words about Jane in the past - but that was when they had still been enemies. He would’ve thought by now his brother would’ve at least learned to tolerate her. “Do you not want me to get married? You know that I love her.”
“I know,” Loki replied, soft.
“Then what else would you have me do?” He was growing aggravated in spite of himself. “Do you really dislike Jane so much?”
“I told you I’ve no objection to her. I already said as much. I only don’t think-”
“Don’t think that it’s a good idea. Yes, you said that before too, when we first talked of this!”
“And you grew angry at me then, the same as you are now, and refused to listen to what I was trying to tell you,” Loki noted, tartly. “If you want to know the truth then, yes, I confess I am trying to make you reconsider your engagement. But not for the reasons you presume.”
“Then what?” Thor cried.
“I only want you to stop and think,” Loki insisted slowly, seriously. “She’s mortal, Thor. Have you considered what that will mean?”
Thor eyed him. “Do you think her beneath me?” he asked stiffly. “Will it be hard to accept her as your queen?”
“Oh, for Ymir’s sake!” Loki was desperately exasperated. “Do you remember what happened to the Valkyries?” It seemed an odd thing to bring up - Thor just stared at him, so Loki continued. “They were mortal women too, brought to live on Asgard among Asgardians, and fed golden apples to increase their longevity. Some of them married Asgardian men, and had half-Asgardian children. But are there any of them left now?”
“No,” Thor answered, blankly, “they-”
“They grew old. Even with the gift of the apples, they aged far faster than us. They withered, they faded. And eventually they died of old age.” Loki gazed at him, his face hard. “And that is what will happen to your true love as well.”
Thor was unnerved by his brother’s expression. But he twisted his head, and tried to shake it off. “I am no fool, Loki. I know that no magic in all the Nine Realms will ever make Jane anything but mortal. I have accepted that. I wouldn’t want to change her, even if I could.”
“You say that but I doubt you have really thought about it,” Loki countered. “You’ll have many years together, hundreds, thousands maybe, and then what? She’ll age right in front of you. You’ll watch her die.”
“Loki, stop,” Thor ordered. But his brother refused to heed him.
“You’ll outlive her. Asgard will have a widower for a king. And what of your heirs? What if they favor her bloodline, and the apples and your strength isn’t enough? They might die before they even make it to the throne. You’ll outlive your own children.” Loki’s voice turned briefly bitter: “Ask our aunt if you think that an easy pain to bear.”
“Enough,” Thor broke in, and this time he was sharp enough that Loki listened to him. “Why are you taunting me with this?” he demanded, pained.
“I am not taunting you. But this is my point exactly,” Loki breathed in fervor. “I’m only trying to spare you this suffering.”
It took Thor a moment to be able to respond. He swayed slightly, a burning knot inside his throat, at the thought of the future Loki promised him. The way his brother painted it, it sounded so bleak.
“But what of how we both would suffer, were I to send Jane away?” he asked.
Loki looked back at him stonily, and for all his resolution Thor knew he didn’t have an answer.
He took another breath, regaining his composure before he continued to speak. “You are not wrong, in what you say. Someday Jane will die. It will undoubtedly be before me. Any children that we may have might as well.” He shook his head, eyes shining. “I will mourn her, and for a while I will be lost. But before that happens we will have a lifetime of happiness together. Is that not worth any pain?”
Loki remained silent. Thor could see his throat working, the lights of his eyes flickering uneasily.
“Everything ends. In life, there is always joy before there is sorrow,” Thor declared. “You must risk one in order to experience the other.”
“But why risk it?” Loki broke in, sounding despondent. “Why take any chance at all?”
“You surprise me. I had thought you more bold than that,” Thor chided him, gentle, but then his voice grew bittersweet. “But it is true, that this is what at times worries me about you, brother. You are too afraid of pain - of letting your heart be wounded. You would rather live an empty life, then expose yourself to happiness and then risk losing it. But think of all you would miss!”
He clasped Loki firmly at the back of the neck, drawing the other to him. There was a conflicted look on Loki’s face. He seemed almost too afraid to speak.
“I was only trying to look out for you,” he repeated at last. “I swear it was my only thought.”
“I know,” Thor said kindly. “And I thank you for it. But this is one decision that I can only make for myself. Even with the consequences, I still choose Jane Foster.”
And it did occur to Thor, to mention that Loki was also in love with a mortal woman. But he thought better of it. Besides, considering the way his brother’s thoughts tended to twist around, it was entirely possible that Darcy was already on Loki’s mind; that maybe even the concern he spoke of had more to do with himself than with Thor.
“I suppose,” Loki concluded slowly, eyes drifting upward with the hooded glint reserved only for his deepest thoughts, “that it does take a kind of bravery to love.”
“Nonsense.” Thor let his hand drop. “It is the most natural thing in the world!”
Loki gave a quiet, annoyed chuckle. “Of course it is. For you.”
Thor shook his head with an unconcerned smile. “Come. I think we’ve talked long enough, and hopefully said what needed saying. It’s time to return to those we care about and that wait for us.”
It had been long enough an adventure for Thor, and even longer still for Loki. Their friends and family were waiting - and, assuming things hadn’t somehow resolved themselves on Asgard, needed them.
He reached out again, this time to give Loki’s shoulder a brief squeeze. “Let’s go home.”
*
In the wake of their leaving Jotunheim, neither Thor nor Loki nor any of the others spared a thought for the band of giants they had rousted.
If pressed to the point, they would’ve assumed the Jotun warriors had long gone, moved off to some other locale and entirely new if unknown destination. That after having been defeated the giants would mutter amongst themselves and nurse their wounds and never look back.
In this they would have been completely mistaken.
Perhaps half an hour after the heroes had left the realm, the Frost Giants came back. In sharp-eyed silence they marched, armed with clubs and icy swords, their leader at the forefront.
Hate-filled and arrogant though he was, the Jotun was no fool. The appearance of a group of Asgardians travelling through their realm, openly defying the truce and risking reprisal, was hardly unremarkable.
Their people were, after all, so blind and stupid with loyalty. If they were poking around Jotunheim, out here in the middle of nowhere, then there had to be a reason.
He and his men returned once enough time had passed they deemed it safe, and started searching the area.
It didn’t take them long to find the cave.
And once that had done, it took them even less time to notice at the very back of it where there should have been nothing but an icy stone wall, something…wavered. Glistened.
The leader of the Jotun crept forward, hand outstretched cautiously. As soon as his long black-tipped fingers met the dancing wave of energy he pulled them back.
And grinned. Horribly.
No sorcerer or scholar was he, but it took hardly a passing knowledge of magics to understand what he was looking at. And it took very little creativity to guess where this pathway probably led.
“Asgard,” the giant breathed in a mean hiss, red eyes narrowing at the promise of invasion - power, glory, vengeance.
Blood.
LINK TO PART SEVEN