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It seemed a poor thing to be imprisoned in Asgard, where every man and woman wished him ill, but he was in Asgard and was that not the place to be? A lifetime's goal and maybe yet a fruit ripe for plucking? It called only for a little patience and, if patience was not his strongest suit, it was certainly not one with which he was unfamiliar. Every good plan needed time and time moved at its own pace.

The thought that patience could best be used another way intruded and he contemplated it a while until sadness weakened him, and then drove him to anger, which he wielded like a weapon, hot and sharp.

Loki Laufeyson did not weep for things lost.

It seemed a poor thing to be imprisoned in Asgard, but, in fact, the prison was soft and quite comfortable, suitable to a prince, which he supposed he still was. Although Odin had rejected him, it was a perception firm in the thoughts of the people and, dislike him though they may, they would not disrespect him. It was a situation Loki did not discourage; he could use it well to his advantage.

And yet, although his prison was comfortable, it was no less a prison. He was permitted to walk the halls as he would, barring places of politics, but did so unarmed, unarmoured, and with his tongue runed against magic, a ward placed by Odin himself. When he walked, he felt the eyes of every Asgardian upon him, monitoring his every move, seeing him exposed and vulnerable, and so he felt no need to leave his chambers for more than the necessities, such as keeping an eye on them in return.

In his chambers he slept, he ate, he waited…

"Brother?"

And once a day Thor called to him through the door like a fool. He was simple-minded and direct and Loki often wondered why he did not come blundering in like a bull. Perhaps his time in Midgard had taught him manners. If so, it had also failed to instill even the slightest sensitivity to the atmosphere. He was an unwanted presence, intruding on Loki's time of contemplation.

He was also company in a world lacking sympathy.

"Brother, are you there?"

Loki allowed resentment and boredom to battle for a time and, when boredom finally won, opened the door.

"Where else would I be, Thor?"

He must have caught Thor about to leave for the man had turned away. He froze in a brief moment of confusion before realizing he had been acknowledged, and then turned back. The brightness of his smile sparked a moment of echoing warmth in Loki, who crushed it without ceremony.

Loki Laufeyson was the manipulator, not the manipulated.

"I feared I missed you, brother," Thor said, amiably clamping one hand down on Loki's shoulder. "You have permission to wander, you know. I did not think you would be content to remain in your chambers."

"Permission to wander?" Loki replied. "So, I may wander to the vault of relics, the audience chambers, and the All-Father's throne?"

"Sadly, no," Thor conceded and Loki would be damned if he did not believe the man to be sincere. "You know that father is still angry regarding your actions. He fears as well the influence of the Tesseract. He has not decided upon a reprimand…"

"Fair enough," Loki said, cutting him off, "but he should decide quickly. I'm sure the whole of Asgard is anxious to know whether they are permitted to beat me and have done with it or whether they must suffer me in silence until the end of time."

"Brother…"

The note of sadness in Thor's voice was not altogether unexpected, but Loki was not as pleased by it as he thought he would be.

"Why have you come?" Loki said, cutting short his verbal torment.

Thor eyed him warily although the look was different than that of his countrymen. Where most saw Loki as someone who might turn on them at any moment, Thor seemed to fear that Loki might suddenly stab himself with the closest weapon at hand.

"I have come to formally invite you to a banquet," Thor said. "You have not broken bread with me since our return to Asgard, brother, and it is important that you attend this meal."

Loki smirked. "To what end? So the All-Father can make an example of me?"

"Because it is a political matter and you are my brother," Thor replied. "Envoys from Alfheim wish to discuss matters of security with father. All formalities, of course, but that is why this banquet is so important. To greet our guests as a family…"

"We are not a family!" Loki snapped. He turned and stormed deeper into his chamber. He did not bother to check whether Thor had followed him. Thor was a great ox and as stubborn and bloody-minded as he was strong; he would go where he willed. "I have already told you that I am not your brother and never was!"

"And I disagree!" Thor insisted. "As does mother. And father, although his pride binds his tongue. In that you are alike."

"One cannot be bound who has no desire to speak," Loki said.

Thor shook his head and Loki resented his seeming sadness.

"You speak pretty words, brother, but I cannot think that you believe them. Regardless, our thoughts matter little. This is a diplomatic matter. If you do not wish to attend, I cannot force you."

"Oh, I never said that," Loki replied as a new thought occurred to him. A chance to speak with the envoys of Alfheim could be to his benefit. "I am merely concerned about how others will react. I'm sure I am not…popular these days."

"There is distrust," Thor admitted, "but no one will act against you. Sif and the others, they… Well, they are still angry. For that, you cannot blame them. However, for most it is merely a question of judgment. Mother placed you on the throne in my absence. Your decisions were made in the interest of Asgard. If they were poor…"

"What of the Chitauri?" Loki said bitterly, waving Thor's litany into silence. He could review a list of his own shortcomings without assistance. "What of Midgard?"

"They care not."

Loki chuffed and turned away, a comment regarding the obliviousness of Asgard upon his lips, when Thor's hand fell heavily on his shoulder and spun him back around.

He found himself in a vice-like grip, one hand upon each shoulder, forced to look upon Thor in a genuine display of anger and anguish. Thor's face contorted as he tried to reign in his emotion, but his brow furrowed and his eyes clouded, and it was suddenly quite evident that he was truly the god of thunder.

In that one moment, Loki felt the icy touch of fear.

"Listen well, brother," Thor said, his words careful and clipped. "Know that in attacking Midgard you have hurt me deeply. If this was your intent, then you have succeeded beyond your expectations. It is a place of people dear to me, one where I have made friends and allies, comerades in arms. I have come to know it as no Asgardian before me has come to know it, save, perhaps, for father. No Asgardian can understand and so no Asgardian cares. They do not care! It is nothing but a place to which you fled from the void. It is the place where the Tesseract was found and returned to us. Father has his concerns, but, beyond that, they do not care!

"It is for this reason I can…forgive you," Thor continued, his voice softening. "You cannot understand Midgard. You have not given yourself that chance. Seeing its people as something other allowed you to see them as something lesser, although you now know how formidable they can be. Even so, brother, if you return there I will allow them to take what justice they see fit and if you seek to harm it again, you will face the might of my hammer. Do you understand?"

"Perfectly," Loki said, relaxing a little. Although he felt his bones grinding together in Thor's grip, he was now certain that he was not in any immediate danger.

"As for your concerns," Thor said, releasing Loki and stepping back, "do you plan some mischief against our father or his guests?"

"How can I? You have only just told me about the banquet."

"You know what I mean."

Loki was skilled in the art of deceit, but found it most expedient to keep to the truth whenever possible. The truth was surprisingly malleable and a statement that was inherently true could twist like a snake when he most needed it.

"I am a prisoner here," he said. "Anything untoward would be unwise. I have no plans to harm the All-Father, yourself, or any Asgardian. My concern is that others will not be as forgiving as you are and take action against me. In this case, I will have no choice but to defend myself."

"It is a man's right to defend himself," Thor declared, "although I do not believe it will be necessary."

"If only I could be as certain."

Thor slapped Loki on the back, an action no less jarring for being done in good humour.

"Then I say to you this, my brother. Swear to me now that you will not act against man, woman, or child, against guest or Asgardian, during this celebration and I will swear to take responsibility for any accusation brought against you."

It was a foolish oath, and Loki would have preferred an offer of arms or the unbinding of his power. Taking responsibility for someone like him… Loki could scarcely believe anyone would make such a proposal, but the thunder god's face radiated only innocence and sincerity. In his own mind, Thor meant every word that he said.

The suggestion made Loki uneasy. Thor all but handed Loki the means to act against him on a silver platter, but vows were tricky things, akin to magic, and Loki preferred not to be trapped by them.

"That vow is madness, Thor. It begs for trouble."

"Swear it!"

Still somewhat shaken by Thor's earlier threat, Loki complied.

"I, Loki of Asgard, do solemnly swear to take no action against man, woman or child, against guest or Asgardian, on the day of the banquet honouring the delegation of Alfheim," Loki said, paused, and quickly added, "unless such action is taken against me unprovoked."

Thor considered this a moment and then nodded his approval.

"And I, Thor of Asgard, son of Odin, do solemnly swear to take upon myself all reprimand made upon my brother, Loki of Asgard, for all actions, alleged or in truth, taken on the day of the banquet honouring the delegation of Alfheim, that occur in defense of an attack made upon him unprovoked."

In spite of the opportunities the vow offered him, Loki felt his heart sink. "That was an incredibly stupid thing to do, Thor."

"Nonsense! You are my brother and you have made a vow to me," Thor said. "Liar and trickster you may be, but you have never been forsworn. I have faith that you will keep this pact."

Faith was well and good, but Loki knew a thing of vows, how they could be layered, and how they begged to be broken. They were, at their heart, the playthings of fate, which followed its own rules. In that moment, whatever else he felt for Thor and whatever other plans he might have, Loki would have pledged an imprisonment eternal to ensure a peaceful end to the All-Father's banquet.

 

 

 

It was a fine evening and finer company for those who could take pleasure in such things. Loki lingered in the shadow of the hall's pillars, watching as Freyer's envoys circulated among Asgard's most noble warriors. He tried his best to listen in and gather snippets of conversation without seeming too obvious about it and hoped to get them alone in good time. Once he knew what concerns they brought before the All-Father, he would know how best to manipulate them to his ends or whether doing so would be nothing but a waste of time and energy.

The task was difficult as the guards tracked him mercilessly. To distract their gaze, Loki sipped occasionally at a cup of mead and attempted to engage certain guests in casual conversation. He chose primarily the women for, while they shied away from his reputation, he could often charm them with words and his perceived lineage. In their eyes he saw himself a prince and, untrustworthy though he may be, a direct line to Odin and Thor alike.

Unfortunately, few of the male warriors were as easily swayed and they ushered their comerades, sisters, and lovers away. It was their good fortune that Loki was not permitted arms or armour, for he could have killed a number of them quite easily. Thor was mighty, this was true, but Loki, too, was raised in the ways of the warrior and possessed the wit to be unpredictable.

Still, he held himself back, not for lack of armour or, as Thor would certainly claim, due to his vow, but because he needed the trust of Asgard, however tentative, and this could not be achieved by acting out. Patience, he reminded himself, was the oil that allowed machinations to run smoothly.

Caught as he was in a stew of possibilities, Loki was greatly surprised when he was struck on the back of the head. The blow was light, but focused, and stung, though it did no damage. A skittering on the floor drew his eye to a peeled hazelnut, out of place enough to be the culprit.

Under the guise of picking it up, Loki surreptitiously scanned the room. No one seemed interested in his actions or paid him much attention at all save for one young warrior of mid-rank who seemed to glance in his direction. A show-off, Loki supposed, trying to earn the childish respect of his peers by daring to assault his betters.

Or an accident, came the mitigating thought, but Loki dismissed it. Nothing so precise could be an accident. Even so, he launched no accusations. He could not be certain this man was to blame and it was against his best interests to cause a scene.

When the second hazelnut hit him, Loki gave due thought to recanting his vow.

It stung his ear, marking a different trajectory than the first, and when Loki glanced in that direction, he was certain of the culprit. The man was named Arne, he believed, of higher rank than the first suspect and no doubt one of the men meant to be impressed. If this was the case, then Arne could afford to learn something from his lackey about the art of subtlety.

Nevertheless, Loki held his tongue and stayed his hand. Petty pranks were not worth the prestige he would lose if he retaliated. Arne seemed to know this and laughed with his companions, safe in the knowledge that Loki could not harm him with the envoys close at hand. Like so many of his kind, it did not occur to him that his actions would come back to haunt him later, as though disrespect in the meeting hall vanished the moment the evening was over.

As Loki pondered whether leaving the hall would be a mark of wisdom or cowardice, the crowd was distracted by Thor's entrance. He always drew a greater share of the attention: tall, broad, and fair, he was a god even to the warriors of Asgard. He exchanged brief cries of greeting and made his way to Freyer's envoys, intent upon the business of making them welcome. He did so without brash gesturing or bold statements and Loki was forced to admit that he had matured greatly since the time before his banishment. In other circumstances, he might have been proud of Thor's progress, but the bitterness he felt at being cast into shadow would not leave him completely. He bit his tongue against uncharitable words and forced a smile as Thor approached him with the envoys in tow.

"You have surely met my brother, Loki," Thor said upon his approach, making a grand gesture that was Loki's cue to bow in greeting. He did so fluidly and without hesitation.

"No, we have not," said the foremost of the Ljósálfar.

The envoys were fair of countenance, as were all of their people, light and lithe, although Loki knew better than to underestimate them. Skilled in the magic arts, they could present a challenge to any who opposed them.

"I apologize for my oversight," Loki said, addressing the envoys directly. "I did not wish to interrupt your discussions, lord…"

"I am Geir, herald to Freyer, and these are Ivar and Ranveig. You must know something of why we are here?"

"Only that it is a matter of security," Loki said, ever attentive. Now was his chance to make an impression before Geir and his companions entered into negotiations with Odin.

"It would not do to discuss the matter fully at this time," Geir said, "but there are some concerns regarding the intentions of Svartalfheim. Our lord feels it might serve both worlds well to consolidate our defenses."

Nor does it hurt to know what relics lie in Odin's vaults and how they are guarded, Loki thought. In this he Freyer saw eye to eye. What knowledge he possessed might be useful to them, as their knowledge of magic might prove useful to him.

Loki sipped his cup, his mind filled with possibilities, as Thor assured their guests that Asgard shared their concerns. However, before Loki could follow his thoughts to their final destination, he was struck from behind. The mead splashed from his goblet, wetting his sleeve and spattering onto Geir's cloak.

Burning with anger and humiliation, Loki turned give the clumsy oaf a verbal lashing. What he found was a young woman, flushed with drink, her hand pressed to her mouth in embarrassment.

"I am sorry, lords! I beg your forgiveness!"

Loki was well prepared to snarl at the little bitch all the same, but Thor stepped in with stern remonstrations.

"You will be forgiven, but make obeisance, for you have dishonoured our guests and my brother," he said as the girl hastily bowed to each of them. Over her bent shoulder, Loki caught sight of Arne glancing their way and laughing among his friends.

"My apologies on behalf of Asgard," Thor told the envoys as he signaled across the room. In a moment, Fandral was at his side. "I will have the young woman escorted to her chambers. She has had entertainment enough for the evening."

"No lasting harm is done," Geir said as Fandral, who helped to keep the peace, led the young woman away. Loki felt he was the only one who saw the furious glance she cast in Arne's direction. "In youth there is foolishness."

"Not only in youth," Loki said, thinking of Arne, although he knew of more than one Asgardian to whom the description could well be applied.

"You speak the truth," Ranveig said, her voice smoky and warm.

Loki wondered if an indirect approach, speaking with Ranveig and Ivar apart from Geir, might not be the most effective course of action when the stewards announced the opening of the banquet hall. He joined Thor in escorting their guests to their seats and then pulled him aside.

"I have concerns regarding the incident with the woman," Loki told him and described the hazelnut attack. "I fear it is part of a plot to harass me."

"And I fear you grow paranoid, brother. Perhaps you are right, and Arne threw a hazelnut, but could it not be, as you first thought, youthful antics? The young lady was no doubt an accident."

"I am merely telling you what I saw."

"I will speak a warning to Arne and his companions after the meal," Thor said, obviously considering the matter closed.

"If it were no more than that, I would warn them myself," Loki snarled. "It is as I have said and I am concerned that they mean to disrupt this meal for the sake of their 'antics' and the Ljósálfar are far too valuable as allies to offend."

"With this last, I do agree, but I feel your fears are for naught, brother," Thor said. "Enjoy this meal and we will speak of this further when the evening is done. At this moment, I must greet a few more guests. I will join you at the table when I am done."

Loki waved him off and returned to his seat. It was a poor thing when not even Thor would give his words consideration, but, in truth, he expected no better.

The table was set, awaiting only the entrance of Odin to begin. This, in turn, could occur only when the guests were settled. Sensing that the chatter would continue for a while longer, Loki signaled the steward to bring him another drink and sat back to observe the situation. He smiled at Ranveig when their eyes met and she smiled at him gently, nodding once before she looked away. She seemed a woman of wisdom and intellect and Loki suspected she could be his greatest ally among the envoys should he need their help.

He was startled from his reverie as liquid, warm and sticky, poured over his shoulder and into his collar. He leapt from his chair with a hiss, bumping into the steward, who stood over him.

"My… My lord, forgive me my clumsiness," the steward stammered, placing the emptied cup on the table. He pulled a cloth from his belt and dabbed expertly at Loki's tunic. "I stumbled inexcusably. Allow me to correct this and accept my sincerest apology."

"You should be turned out for this mess," Loki snapped, but allowed the man to clean him up. From the corner of his eye he noticed the young man suspected of throwing the first hazelnut moving away from them and toward Arne's table.

"If that is your wish, my lord," the steward said.

"Nevermind," Loki told him. "I suppose I can be merciful. There is quite a crowd here after all. Were you tripped?"

The steward grimaced slightly as he finished his task. The black and deep green of Loki's tunic masked the stain.

"I could not say, my lord," the steward replied, rightly anxious about speaking ill of the guests. "It is possible, although the responsibility for avoiding such things is my own."

"Indeed," Loki said. "Well, you are forgiven this time, but I suggest you serve others for the remainder of the evening."

The steward nodded and slipped away.

The servants in Odin's hall were well trained and slipped among the guests like ghosts, seldom seen or felt. Loki knew this well and so believed that the man had not stumbled of his own accord. Although he wished to avoid confrontation, at least for the night, Loki knew he could not let this insult pass. If he did not confront Arne and his companions, the "accidents" would continue.

As he approached the table, Arne and his followers stood, showing proper deference, but Arne's expression was smug.

"It seems that I must speak with you," Loki said.

"Must you, my lord?" Arne replied. He remained standing, but took the cup from his place and sipped it.

"Indeed," Loki said, offering a tight smile. "You appear to have taken issue with me. That is well and good. There is no reason you should like me any more than I like you. However, this is a banquet in the hall of the All-Father and no place for petty antics. If you wish to confront me, do so openly and not in a way that will inconvenience our guests." He gestured toward the envoys at Odin's table.

"I know not what you mean, my lord," Arne replied.

Even without a weapon, it would have been easy to thrash the man to within an inch of his life: the table was filled with cutlery. But for the sake of future endeavours, Loki resisted the temptation.

"You are as stupid as you are childish," he said, "although I will grant that your friend has some skill." Here he gestured to the man who had tripped the steward. "On any other day, I might have been impressed. You, however, are clumsy and unsubtle and I know your 'accidents' are not accidents."

"Oh? How can you tell?" Arne asked him, taking another sip and gesturing expansively. "Accidents can occur in the blink of an eye!" Here he gestured around the room so swiftly that his ale slopped from his cup and splashed the front of Loki's tunic. "My case in point…"

If it were possible to feel his blood boil, Loki was certain he would feel it now. Anger filled him, buzzing like a swarm of bees, and he clenched and unclenched his hands in an attempt to control his fury.

"You are fortunate," he said, "that we are in the hall of the All-Father. Do you truly believe you will go unpunished? I will seek you out myself if you cause a disturbance…"

Arne's smile, one of mockery, twisted and grew cold. He dropped his cup on the table and drew himself up to face Loki at his full height. He was half a head shorter, but as broad as Thor and there was no doubt that his stance was a challenge.

"I rather think you won't," Arne said. "Not many people witnessed your return to Asgard, 'lord' Loki, but I did. Thor led you in chains and you remain nearly invisible, never seen, never heard from. You wear no armour and carry no weapons. It is rumoured that even your magic has failed. I doubt that you can hurt me now, failed prince, or that anyone cares what is done to you."

Loki stiffened as Arne pulled a knife from his belt and, keeping it beneath the edge of the table, pressed it against his midsection, a handspan above his groin. It was a fine blade, able to cut through cloth with ease.

"I even doubt that anyone will believe you if you tell them. Accidents happen, 'lord' Loki, and if you run into my knife while I am cleaning it, who is to say it was not mere misfortune?"

Loki wondered what he had done to earn Arne's animosity. He could not say that he had always displayed the best of judgment or that his pranks were restricted to those who could deal with them. Even so, no matter what the slight, the dining hall was not the time or the place for such antics.

He quickly considered his options: it was unlikely that a guard could respond to him in time and drawing attention to the situation would only alert Arne, who would then hide the knife. Although he was certain the man would not actually try to gut him, a small wound might, as Arne suggested, be passed off as an accident. More importantly, if he was willing to wave a knife around during the banquet, he was a danger to everyone present. Disarming, Loki decided, was his only option.

He sighed and looked up from the knife pressed against his belly. Threat and provocation both; at least he would not draw the angry hand of fate.

"It seems I was never meant to be on my best behaviour," Loki said, balling his fist.

And then he struck Arne full in the face.

Having grown up alongside Thor, Loki knew the effectiveness of a properly aimed punch. The strength of his anger and the surprise of a purely physical attack from a known magic user was enough to stun Arne, who dropped his weapon and staggered back. Loki moved to step on it and secure it, as was his intent, but Arne's clever and nameless companion kicked it away.

It should not have mattered. Loki's only thought had been to disarm and he thought he could recover the knife later, but his single punch unleashed a storm of chaos.

Rather than stand down once their leader had been bested, Arne's companions leapt to his defense and Loki was forced to ward off their blows with cups and cutlery until a mailed fist slammed into the side of his head.

Stunned, he staggered sideways, catching a glimpse of Hogun from the corner of his eye before his swimming vision was filled with guests jumping in to join the fight. A hand clamped on his arm and tried to pull him away, but he slashed at it with a meat dagger until he was released and stumbled back.

With bleary vision Loki fought those who sought to restrain him. Through the ringing of his ears he could hear shouts echoing across the hall. Unable to focus, he parried wildly and missed a punch that landed in the centre of his chest, knocking the wind from him. Almost simultaneously, a gauntlet caught him in the lower back and he dropped to one knee in crippling pain. His vision faded in and out and any attempt to move brought with it daggers of fire that ran up his back and pierced his brain.

In his last moment of consciousness, Loki saw Thor jump into the fray, grabbing combatants by the scruff of the neck and tossing them aside like rag dolls. Somewhere Odin's voice was booming, demanding to know what was going on…

Loki fell into a pit of oblivion.

 

 

 

Loki's first thought upon waking was that the ordeal could have been worse. Once tossed about by the Hulk in Midgard, he knew what it was to have every fibre of one's body ache. This time, only certain parts of his body ached. The pain was concentrated, focused, and intense, but most of his body was functional. He felt he could survive it.

And then he opened his eyes.

The light seared him, exploding in a white heat behind his eyes and though Loki squeezed them shut immediately, they continued to burn. He groaned, and thrashed, and pressed his palms to his face to block out the light. His arms were stiff and heavy as lead.

Someone gripped his wrist and pulled his hands away gently, but firmly, replacing them with a cool compress. He felt a second cloth against his face, his neck, his shoulder, and his chest…all the places that radiated pain. Through slitted lids, he chanced a glance at his nurse and saw Frigga wringing her cloth over a bowl of water.

"There is no greater torment for a mother than to see her children suffer," she said.

"Then you needn't trouble yourself over me," Loki replied. He hissed as his ear was pinched and firmly twisted.

"Guard your tongue," Frigga said simply and released him. She pressed her cloth to his face again, and his neck, and his shoulder before continuing.

"The circumstances of your birth mean nothing, child. It is I who raised you and held you close. When I received news of your death, my heart died too. Is this not the very definition of a mother?"

Loki bit his lip. Whatever bitterness he felt toward Thor and Odin, he did not hate this woman, who once trusted and believed in him.

"I…apologize," he said and Frigga nodded her acceptance.

"Now lie still," she said. "How do you feel?"

"Sore."

"You are badly bruised. Do you feel your bones are broken?"

Loki began to shake his head and winced.

"Lie still," Frigga repeated. "You have taken a blow to the head."

"I remember," Loki said. He owed Hogun thanks for that particular injury. "But nothing else. "

"You fought with a guest," Frigga said, expressing disappointment. "Others joined in. The battle spread. One of the envoys was injured…"

"What?"

Loki sat up quickly, ignoring the spinning of the room and the white-hot lances that traveled his spine and lodged in his head.

How could the fools have taken it so far? Bad enough to be seen attacking a guest, even if it was in self-defense, but to be the cause of injury to an envoy? Ones he had hoped to cultivate as allies at that?

If he had not confronted Arne… But no, the man's antics would have continued all night. He could not have known the man would threaten him. If he had perhaps called a guard… But the guards were friends of Thor and he had no faith in them.

Loki could feel the tentative trust he wished to build slipping through his fingers into the hole that would be his grave. He would never have his power restored, never be given access to the audience halls and the vault of relics, never be rid of the geis that gnawed at his brain like a host of rats. The Cask of Ancient Winters… The Tesseract…

Perhaps it was for the best. Perhaps he should not have dealt with the Chitauri. Perhaps… Perhaps… Perhaps…

"Who was injured?" he asked.

"The one they called Ivar," Frigga said. "He was Geir's guard and sustained his wounds defending his master. The details are unclear. Your brother will return shortly with news."

When Loki grimaced, Frigga frowned her disapproval.

"Take that look from your face. Your brother is the one who fought to free you and carried you to your chamber. Now, if you will not lie still, cover yourself. You will catch your death."

It was a pointless concern; as Jotun, Loki bore cold better than any Asgardian. However, when Frigga took the cloak she had set aside and wrapped it around his shoulders, he felt immediately warmer and somehow better prepared for the ordeal that lay ahead of him. She smoothed back his hair, carefully avoiding the site of his injury, and he allowed her to do so, wishing briefly that he could stay in that moment forever.

"Mother? Brother?" Thor called from outside the door and Frigga withdrew to let him in.

Thor looked harried and worn as he stepped through the door. He acknowledged each of them with a nod and frowned at Loki's appearance.

"Are you badly injured, brother?"

Loki rolled his eyes and waved Thor away. "I will live. What of the envoys?"

"Geir and Ranveig are safe and under guard," Thor told him. "Healers are treating Ivar. In the heat of battle, his defense of his master was mistaken for an act of aggression. He was wounded, but he will live, and his attacker will be punished. Even so…"

Thor trailed off, unsure of how to stress the severity of the situation, but Loki was already well aware. Envoys between the realms were sacred and an injury to their person could be interpreted as an act of war. Restitution to prove one's good intentions could be quite dear… It depended entirely on the whim of Freyer or the envoys' judgment.

"Brother, you must explain to me what happened," Thor pleaded. "Why would you attack a guest?"

"He had a knife and threatened me," Loki replied.

"Hogun saw no knife."

"Hogun struck me in the head. I doubt he looked carefully."

"He begs your forgiveness," Thor said. When Loki cast him a glance of incredulity, he added, "Not for striking you. It was his intent to stun you and remove you from the room. He simply did not anticipate that the matter would escalate."

"Of course not," Loki said and did not point out that 'stunning' him was hardly necessary when he was unarmed and unarmoured. "He would not have seen the knife because it was held below the edge of the table and pressed against me. That idiot, Arne, threatened to gut me, so I disarmed him. I knew I would be escorted from the hall, but better that than allow him to persist in his foolishness."

"You disarmed him?" Thor said, at once more attentive. "Then you have the knife?"

"No, he dropped it and it was kicked it away," Loki said. "It might…no. There was at least one in his company clever enough to have picked it up. You may look for it, but I doubt you will find it."

"You had best tell me the tale from beginning to end," Thor insisted.

Reluctantly, Loki related the events of the evening, every insult and every threat, although his descriptions were brief.

"What's done is done," he said. "I will present myself for punishment and Freyer will be satisfied."

"I pray you are correct," Thor said. "Thank you, brother, for your testimony. I must return to father. Mother."

Thor nodded to each of them once again and slipped from the room.

When he was gone, Frigga took a small vial of powder and poured its contents into a cup. She filled the cup with water and pressed it into Loki's hands.

"And you, my son, will rest," she said. "This will lessen the pain."

Loki knew better than to argue. He took the mixture and drank it quickly, wincing at its bitterness. He stripped off his cloak and lay back in his bed, drawing the blankets around him.

"You needn't stay," he told Frigga as she smoothed the covers over him.

"My troublesome child," she replied, stroking his hair. "You have only just returned to me from the void. Allow me this indulgence."

She was still seated beside him when the powder took effect and cast Loki into dreams.

 

 

 

Loki drew himself up, straightened his tunic and cloak, and tried not to show signs of stiffness as he strode toward the audience hall. He had not been near Odin's throne since he first arrived in Asgard, bound in chains, and had the terms of his imprisonment imposed upon him.

He intended to be of much greater presence on this occasion, in spite of his anxiety. He knew the charge against him was severe, but he felt he could still salvage the situation if he presented his case calmly and offered to serve in restitution with grace and perhaps a small show of humility. There was no way to prove Arne's provocation, and this he accepted, but he would have it known that he bore the envoys no ill will and had no wish to see them harmed before he paid their price. In that he might yet earn their esteem.

Arne was a fool, but he was correct in one thing: accidents do happen. Loki could only hope that the envoys felt the same.

Guards met him at the door to the throne and bid him wait -– respectfully, Loki noted. Whatever else had transpired, he was not yet considered a criminal.

He turned as the sounds of footsteps filled the hall and Thor approached him, followed by Hogun and a complement of guards.

"Brother," Thor said warmly although his brow was creased with worry. "Are you well today?"

"Well enough," Loki replied, maintaining his civility. He would have preferred to face Odin and the envoys alone, but he supposed Hogun's involvement demanded his presence. If Thor had joined him to ensure Loki did not take revenge for the cuff on the head, he needn't have worried. Revenge could wait until there were fewer eyes upon them.

The three of them stood idle, waiting until, upon some unspoken signal, the guards opened the doors and admitted them to the throne room.

Empty, save for Odin, the envoys, and a few nominal guards, the room was cavernous, the throne resplendent. It was meant to be intimidating, but Loki was accustomed to such tricks of the eye, had grown up in and around it, and so was unmoved. What concerned him was the air of uncertainty and distrust in the eyes of Geir and Ranveig as they approached. He might have need of their help and did not want them to view him as an enemy.

Ivar was absent, a testimony to his injury.

"Thor. Loki. My sons," Odin said as they bowed deeply to him and Loki tried not to flinch at the shape of his words. "It saddens me that I should speak with you under such circumstances, our own matters unresolved, but this insult must be dealt with immediately. Loki, you are accused of precipitating a situation in which a peaceful envoy to our realm has been injured. What have you to say to this?"

"I say that I acted in self-defense," Loki replied. "The man, Arne, drew a knife upon me."

He described the situation in brief, keeping his words short, his sentences clipped, and his tone formal.

"Arne's company claims he did not have a knife," Odin said.

Inside, Loki bristled, but he calmed himself. He knew the question was a formality, a show for the envoys to suggest that Asgard intended no harm.

"They would. They are his companions, after all."

"Hogun claims he did not see a knife."

Hogun bowed. "This is true, All-Father. However, I concede that Loki's back was to me. I would not have seen a knife held against him or below the edge of the table. Nor would I have seen it kicked way."

"What did you see, Hogun?"

"I saw Loki approach a guest, engage him in conversation, and then assault him. I stepped forward to lead Loki from the hall, but the guest's companions leapt to their friend's aid. Loki fought against them -– defensively, I will admit. I knew mere words would not stop them then and sought to stun Loki and pull him from the hall. I thought in doing so, the guest and his companions would stand down. I did not anticipate a greater disturbance."

"And yet a greater disturbance occurred," Odin said, "and involved the most respected envoys of Alfheim, an insult all the greater for the involvement of my own son. All have given testimony before them and I hope that they are satisfied that no injury was intended. However, regardless of intent, injury has occurred and restitution must be made to restore their good graces. Those directly involved have been dealt with, but, as instigator of the crime, Loki must pay the greater price. Lord Geir, what does your master demand?"

Geir stood and stepped forward on the platform below the throne. He seemed impassive and Loki admired his poise and presence. It pained him to think he could not work more closely with him.

"The wounds are not fatal," Geir announced. "As the aggressor before him, the instigator must be flogged."

Loki stiffened, but did not allow his expression to change. He could endure a flogging.

"As precipitant of an act of aggression, the instigator must be imprisoned," Geir continued. "However, we are nearly satisfied that Alfheim was not the target, and the sentence will be reduced to two ten-spans of days."

This was a much easier punishment to bear.

"There is also the matter of the instigator being a member of the ruling house," Geir added. "As such, a show of penitence is demanded in the form of a public flogging of the instigator on every fifth day after the initial punishment until the term is served or Alfheim deems it sufficient."

Public.

The word clawed at Loki's heart in a way that the threat of corporeal punishment did not. Where once he stood before Asgard as their king, he would be forced to kneel and be beaten for all to witness. He could see the sense of it, could even see how such a demonstration could be turned to one's advantage, how the drama and the pathos could manipulate a crowd, but…

But not when he had stood so tall. Not when he had wielded such power as no one in Asgard, save Odin himself, could ever know.

And yet, there was no help for it. His own miscalculation had brought him to this and he could not win back favour with anything less.

He bowed to Geir, drew a deep breath to steel himself, and…

"I accept!" Thor said, cutting off Loki's own declaration, his booming voice echoing in the empty hall.

Loki fought to reign in his shock. Geir looked startled. Odin merely raised an eyebrow.

"I accept on behalf of my brother," Thor continued, somewhat breathless as though he feared he would be interrupted. "I do not believe he is the instigator of this incident, but I know no evidence exists and that restitution must be made. I will accept on his behalf."

"Explain your reasons to me," Odin said. He spoke carefully, but Loki knew enough to see the pain and worry in the furrow of his brow and the look in his eye.

"Loki made a vow to me, father," Thor said. "A true vow, one that he would not act against any Asgardian that did not act against him. He did this at my request when I dismissed his concerns that…that such an act might occur. He expressed these long before the banquet and again in the reception hall. He mentioned Arne by name, but I dismissed him then as well. I did not see the knife, father, and thus cannot hold Arne responsible, but I believe Loki spoke truly and that he was threatened, directly or indirectly, making his actions an act of defense. He is not the instigator and I cannot let him be punished as one, but to soothe the insult against Alfheim, I will take the sentence they have imposed upon myself."

Loki cursed silently, angered by his brother's meddling, but he was not livid enough to miss Ranveig's reaction to Thor's testimony. Her eyes widened and her nostrils flared. Her lips parted slightly as she looked from him to Thor and back again. Loki knew instinctively that she was well schooled in magic and understood the weight of a vow, as potent as any charm or curse. She seemed uncertain and did not speak, but if she believed that he was under oath to do them no harm, her council might hold weight with Geir and with Freyer, their master.

At present, however, the knowledge did him little good.

"I understand your concern, Thor," Odin said, "but even if it is true, what makes you believe you are an acceptable substitute?"

"I, too, have made a vow," Thor said. "I have vowed to take upon myself all reprimand made against Loki, my brother, for actions made in self-defense. I believe that it is so and must therefore keep my vow."

"A vow is a sacred thing, lord Odin," Ranveig said, rising to join Geir. "If he is willing, we will accept his offer of restitution."

Odin did not speak for several minutes. Finally, he drew himself up and raised his hands in declaration.

"Thor has accepted to perform restitution to Alfheim on behalf of Asgard. He is to be flogged and imprisoned for twenty days. As my son he is to be brought forth on every fifth day and flogged in a public venue. In this Asgard demonstrates its good will. Guards, remove my son, Thor. Loki and Hogun are dismissed."

Odin did not look away as the guards seized Thor and led him from the hall. For the first time, Loki noticed that Thor did not carry his hammer. If he had seen this before, he would have guessed Thor's intent for no guard could have removed the weapon from him. But in this, too, Loki had failed. He turned instead to Odin as he watched the scene impassively.

"All-Father, it is not his place," Loki said, but Odin raised his hand to silence him.

"I have spoken and I must see to the safety of the remaining envoys," he said and turned away.

Thus dismissed a second time, Loki turned and hurried after the guards.

"Wait!" he said, catching up to them. "I must have words with the prisoner."

When they ignored him, he firmed his stance, pulled back his shoulders and bellowed, "I am Loki of Asgard and I command you to stop! I will have words with…with my brother."

This time the guards drew to a halt and looked at each other with misgiving. Loki rolled his eyes and shooed them back.

"Back away! He pledged a vow; he won't run off," Loki snapped.

"He is right, I have and I will not," Thor averred.

Whether it was Thor's tone, his reputation, or his assurances that convinced them, Loki watched the guards nod to one another and move a short distance away.

"Stand apart from the prisoner," the last one cautioned him before joining his comerades.

Loki glared at the retreating figure and then turned away. The guards were not his concern.

"You great ox! Why would you do this?" he hissed under his breath.

Thor smiled sadly. "Because you are my brother and I have made a vow."

"Do you think me unable to pay my own debts?" Loki said.

"You have been through an ordeal," Thor replied, "and I fear this restitution will be hard on you."

"I don't want your pity, Thor."

"Pity?" Thor looked perplexed. "What need have you of pity, brother? You are a prince of Asgard, great in power and intellect. Once, in my arrogance, I would not have said so, but you are much more clever than I and I know it well. Perhaps too clever; your thoughts are always in a tangle that no one else can follow.

"I know you are angry that father has chosen me to succeed him and I know I can never truly understand your reasons for attacking Midgard, but know this, brother: I have no wish to rule without you. My strength, backed by your magic and your cleverness, tempered by my experiences… Neither one of us is worthy to follow in father's footsteps, but together we might succeed."

For once, Loki found himself tongue-tied. Inside he raged at the ridiculous sentiment and empty promise of Thor's speech.

"You have no idea what you've done," he snarled.

"I have done what I thought was best," Thor replied. "I wish for you to dwell peacefully in Asgard, brother, and acted to that end. If you have other plans, I will not be party to them."

Loki sought to argue further, but found that he could not. Instead, he signaled to the guards that he was through.

"As you wish, Thor," he said and watched as the guards led the thunder god away.

 

 

 

Loki stormed through his chamber, pacing from one end to the other, restless and anxious without a target for his frustration.

It was not about Thor and his stupid, self-righteous sacrifice or about the torture he was, even now, enduring in Loki's name. Never that. The stupid oaf thought he was being helpful, never realizing how much worse he had made things.

It was hard enough to be a monster, hiding behind a mask, harder still to have failed in the one task he had been raised to fulfill. To be rejected by Midgard. To be brought home in chains. To be distrusted and harassed. To be the one who brought shame through the injury of an envoy. To be seen as a coward who could not accept his own punishment. To be the one who caused Thor to be imprisoned…

He might have gloated at that, at the ease of it, but the mire in which it left him enraged Loki to the point where he would scratch open his skull to excise the bile if it would leave his head clear enough to plot a way back into Asgard's good graces.

Loki slammed his fist against the wall, the impact jarring his bones all the way to his shoulder.

"Thor, you stupid ox," he snarled, although it certainly was not about Thor.

But the more he thought about it, the more he realized that Thor was not as stupid as he seemed. If nothing else, he was right about the tangle of Loki's thoughts. Loki had followed so many threads: Odin, Asgard, Thanos, the Chitauri, the vault of relics, the envoys of Alfheim…that he could no longer tell where one ended and another began. They were knotted together in a tapestry he could not work without the most basic of tools: arms, armour, and magic.

It was time to simplify.

Loki dropped his threads and plans, simply erased them from the equation. Instead, he traced back the actions of the evening, searching for a common denominator. The conclusion he reached was damnably simple: he, Loki, was at the heart of everything.

Arne had believed him to be powerless, vulnerable, and vilified -– a perfect target for his antics. It was something Loki had expected ever since his return to Asgard. And yet, instead of ignoring the fool or simply leaving the hall, he had confronted Arne and given the rest of the company an excuse to vent their frustrations against him. He had, in essence, met their expectations and allowed them to fulfill his in turn.

Loki realized that the pit of distrust in which he found himself was deep. It could only be filled with noble acts, something that seemed impossible in his current state, unless he found a way to rescue Thor from his own act of nobility. To do so, he would have to thoroughly astound Asgard, confront them with something entirely unexpected. He had succeeded in disarming Arne because he had fought when it was thought he would stand down. While he now admitted it was a poor choice, Loki was certain the same principle could be applied to greater effect in the matter at hand.

What did Asgard expect of him?

Mischief and deceit, no doubt. He had always been prankish and had proven himself only more dangerous with age. Aggression was a surety after the incident with Arne. Impatience, perhaps. He could wait for a plan to reach fruition, but could not tolerate fools or insults for very long.

What would surprise them?

Nothing.

Quite literally nothing, Loki realized. Not inaction, per se, as that would only confirm in their minds that Thor's imprisonment was something he desired, but no action. If he could confront them, protest the situation without actively moving against them, it might work in his favour.

Visibility was also key. People believed in plots from the shadows, but seldom thought of them occurring in daylight. A public protest, then: quiet, inoffensive, and very, very visible.

It would take the right look, the right impression. He could not use glamour or suggestion, but for once that was all to the good. Those who knew he was powerless would not doubt their eyes or their senses.

Seized by his plan, Loki rifled through his wardrobe. He should not dress too casually or too modestly. He wanted to be noticed and to be seen, above all, as a prince of Asgard. And yet, he should not dress so formally that he put himself above others of influence. A simple, close-fitting shirt and trousers would do, black, with a golden pectoral to denote his rank and a long coat of good make, green and gold. Solid boots of quality, but worn enough to be comfortable, were also desirable.

Loki put these things on and looked in the mirror.

He was struck first by the bruises on his face. He had nearly forgotten them, although the flesh was tender to the touch. They stood out against his pale skin, angry and purple, fading to a yellowed green where they had begun to heal. A deep well about his left eye complemented a smudge above his brow and a bloom across his cheek. Even his lip was split and stained and angry red. On the opposite side, behind his right ear, he still felt a bump where Hogun had struck him.

He wondered if he should hide the marks with powder, as the bruises on his body were covered by his clothing, but decided against it. They were striking, in their way, and a reminder that he had not been the only one involved in the chaos at the banquet. They stood as a silent accusation that others who were quick to judge had brought about this unfair punishment.

Loki found he liked that very much.

He combed back his hair in a more youthful style and added a green sash at his waist. It served to cut the black of his uniform and, tightly tied, supported his lower back, which still ached where the unknown attacker had punched him. It did little for him now, but, if he spent the day on his feet, Loki knew he would be glad of it.

There remained a matter of stance.

Knowing he might need to stand for hours, Loki experimented with his feet together and apart, seeing which position would allow him to draw himself up to his full height for as long as possible. He settled on the stiff-backed stance of Odin's guards, feet slightly apart for balance, but was at a loss for what to do with his hands. He could not cross his arms for he looked defiant. He could not cup his hands before him for it looked childish. He could not carry a weapon, a rod, or a scepter and he refused to carry a walking stick.

He remembered seeing, from his glass cage on Midgard, one of the so-called Avengers, the one in blue, red, and white, stand with his hands at the small of his back while speaking with his superior. He tried this and found his shoulders pulled back and his chest drawn up. He seemed very…solid without looking aggressive.

It was very impressive.

Its weakness was the temptation to draw his head back as well, lifting his chin in a look of arrogance. It would not do. He forced his chin down, just shy of a look of penitence, and locked the position with his eyes. If he focused on a point just below the horizon, he could keep his gaze level and his expression neutral.

Loki considered his image and smiled.

Perfect.

 

 

 

On the first day, Loki rose early, donned his uniform and made his way to the public square. It was empty, save for a few guards, but he knew that it would soon fill with Asgardians going about their business: servants, soldiers, and petitioners.

He positioned himself at the foot of the stairs leading to the halls of Odin. None could fail to miss him, whether they sought the All-Father's council or merely used the open space to shorten their journey. With his feet planted firmly and his hands clasped at the small of his back, Loki leveled his gaze across the square.

He waited.

In time the first few early risers trickled into the square, mostly servants on their way to prepare the city for a new day. Few of them paid him any mind. He was merely Loki, unarmed and unarmoured, waiting before the halls of his father. If they knew of his involvement at the banquet, they gave no indication, which was as it should be. The idle whispers of servants were not tolerated when there was work to be done.

The light in the square intensified and the first of the higher-ranking Asgardians began to emerge. They strode through the square, intent upon their errands, and many of them passed him on the stair. Even then, he did not draw attention. He was Loki of Asgard and none yet dared to question his business.

An hour or so later, Loki wondered if the dull sheep would bother to notice him at all. It took all of his will not to accost them on the stairs and ask if they were blind or completely oblivious to Thor's ordeal. However, he managed to restrain himself, remembering that only by his self-control could he return to Asgard's good graces and restore what was his. He had begun to question the wisdom of his demonstration when he heard the first whispers of rumour.

From the corner of his right eye, he could see two women speaking close together. One gestured in his direction, trying hard not to point at him directly lest she be thought impudent, and murmured to her companion. They lingered a moment and then continued on their way. It seemed a small thing, but Loki fought the urge to smile.

The chain of events had begun.

By mid-morning he had begun to feel thirsty and cursed himself for not thinking to bring a jug of water. However, the action of drinking would have broken the illusion he strove to maintain without magic. Reminding himself of the advantages of his plan, he simply suffered through it as knots of people began to form around the edges of his vision, whispering about him as though being out of his direct line of sight somehow dulled his hearing. A few passers-by said hello and Loki hesitated before acknowledging them with a nod. It would not do to be rude on this day, but he refused to speak for a mere greeting.

Come midday, he began to feel hungry, but he pushed the sensation aside. He concentrated instead on rotating his shoulders and otherwise stretching muscles that were already stiff and sore without disrupting the effect of his pose. A small crowd had gathered in the square, joking and whispering, no longer bothering to conceal the fact that they were watching him and wondering what trickery he was about.

Nevertheless it was some time before one man approached him directly.

"Forgive me, prince," the man said nervously. "May I ask what you are doing?"

"I am standing before the steps leading to the halls of Odin," Loki replied.

The obvious statement confused the man and he fidgeted with his belt before asking the next logical question.

"May I ask why?"

"To protest Thor's imprisonment."

Loki did not know if the man knew of the circumstances behind Thor's penitence, although he was obviously aware of it. He did not seem brave enough to press the matter, but another who thought himself well hidden in his crowd of friends called out, "He is in prison to spare you!"

It was difficult, but to this Loki remained silent.

"You answered him!" the man called. "Why won't you answer me?"

"I will answer fair questions, but reply to neither comments nor actions," Loki said.

"Why not?" asked a woman and Loki glanced at her briefly before turning his gaze back to the horizon.

"Because such replies incite disturbances and that is the crux of this matter," Loki said.

"What sort of disturbances?" said another.

"The sort that lead to imprisonment."

"What actions?"

"Harassment and insult."

"Against whom?"

"Against me," Loki said.

There was a moment of quiet filled with gentle murmuring.

"Why?" asked a number of people all at once.

"Because I am Loki of Asgard," he told them, "and they thought I would not fight back."

At this the crowd backed away a little and discussed amongst themselves, sharing stories and theories as they attempted to piece together the puzzle. The people drew together, parted, separated, lost members who were expected elsewhere, gained new ones who were curious, and repeated the cycle once more. One young lady walked up to him, swept up her skirt, and crouched out of view. Loki surmised she had sat on the step slightly behind him.

"Who is the man who insulted you?" she asked, her voice sweet and merry.

"A man named Arne," Loki told her.

"Will you not look at me?"

"I look only at the horizon."

"A pity," she said and Loki did not comment. "I should like to be looked upon by a prince of Asgard."

She was quiet a moment, and then she continued.

"I have heard many rumours about that banquet. I am afraid to hear more stories for it is said that you are violent and the lord of lies. What do you think of that?"

Loki gripped his wrists in his hands and pressed them against the small of his back.

"I think that lies and stories are more closely related than their tellers imagine."

The woman said nothing for several minutes, and then Loki heard the rustle of skirts and felt her absence. She was gone.

For a long while, no one else dared to speak with him, but Loki did not mind. The number of people who passed by to gawk had increased. They noticed him, and that was enough for now. Besides, the sun was warm, his mouth was dry, and he did not feel like humouring them.

Worse, he felt, was the throbbing pain beginning in the small of his back. It echoed the incipient headache that seemed to grow as the day wore on.

The crowd grew larger and found its voice. The people issued him challenges, which he ignored with mounting difficulty. Occasionally, they asked him questions, but they were often variations of the same theme and he answered them in the same way, though the repetition irritated him. Some mockingly offered inane queries; he kept silent in reply.

"Why do you not answer my question?" a man said, prodding him when he was not acknowledged. Once certain he would not act against them, the crowd had become overly familiar.

"I answer fair questions only," Loki told him. "My sexual preferences are irrelevant."

This earned him a laugh although he could not enjoy it or the look of irritation on the man's face. The day was warm and sweat was beginning to pool in the hollows of his body. The shifting light stung his eyes. It took all of his energy to remain firmly rooted and not lash out at the more "clever" members of his audience, but he managed.

In time, the murmuring of the crowd died out and the people quietly drew away from him. Loki could not see what had cowed them so, but the clank of armour signaled the presence of guards on the steps behind him. On the edge of his vision, a swirl of gold and elegant grace resolved itself into the image of Frigga, who turned and stopped before him. Concern etched her face, as she looked him up and down. She signaled to a servant and murmured a command.

"Oh, my son," she said when the servant withdrew, "what are you doing?"

"I am standing before the steps leading to the halls of Odin," Loki told her.

Frigga gave him a look that brought him back to his childhood and promised tears before bedtime if he persisted in his insolence. However, it could not last and Loki vaguely wondered what she saw in him to cause her expression to soften as it did.

"Why are you standing before the steps?"

"To protest Thor's imprisonment."

"How long will you stand here?"

"Until twilight dims the light of the square," Loki said, "and I will return with the sun in the morning."

"Oh, Loki," Frigga sighed, reaching out to cup his cheek and the curve of his jaw. "Your brother would not want this, you know."

When he said nothing, she titled her head and looked at him curiously.

"Why do you not answer?"

"I will answer fair questions, but reply to neither comments nor actions," Loki told her.

"I see," Frigga said after a moment's thought.

At that moment the servant returned with a small basket.

"Have you taken food or drink?"

"No. I… I am not hungry," Loki said, thinking it a lie. He was surprised to find it was the truth. The gnawing feeling in his stomach had passed, slain, perhaps, by the lances of fire in his back and in his head.

"But you are thirsty," Frigga said, taking a jug and cup from the basket. She filled the cup nearly to the brim and held it up to him. "You are flushed with sun and your throat is dry. I can hear it in your voice."

Loki eyed the cup and then the crowd that had moved back toward the middle of the square. As much as he feared breaking the effect of his stance, he had to admit, if only to himself, that Frigga was right. The water, odourless and colourless though it should be, teased his senses. He could smell it, almost taste it…

He shifted uneasily.

"Even Thor, in his prison, is given food and water," Frigga told him. "Will you not take it?"

"If it is offered," Loki replied and untangled his arms from the small of his back. He was surprised by how stiff and numb they felt. He took the cup from Frigga and clasped it in both hands like a child, afraid that it might tumble from his nerveless fingers.

He sipped the water cautiously at first -– it had never tasted so fine – and then drank it down quickly. It sickened him a little, but also refreshed him and he handed the cup back with a clearer head.

"Will you not eat as well?" Frigga asked him.

"I will eat this evening," Loki replied.

"Will you promise me?"

"I promise."

Frigga looked uncertain, but withdrew and left Loki to his business. He clasped his hands behind him and stared off into the distance once more. The crowd had dispersed somewhat and, ever mutable, had shed its daytime onlookers in favour of those returning from their trades.

Even so, news of Frigga's visit had spread and Loki's audience did not dare to approach him over much. In time, the square darkened. Loki declared an end to his day by the expedient means of stretching and returning to his chamber.

It surprised him how weary he felt after simply standing for a day, as though it were as physically demanding as training. Perhaps, in its way, it was, especially in the heat of day with no food or water save what Frigga had brought to him.

A meal awaited Loki in his chamber, but he found he had no appetite for it. He forced himself to eat a few bites to fulfill his promise, drank more water, stripped, washed, and rolled into his bed.

In no time, he fell asleep.

 

 

 

On the second day, Loki rose, somewhat sore, ate a little from the remains of his meal, drank some water, and regarded himself in the mirror. He looked somewhat haggard, as though he had slept badly. This had not been planned, but he found the look favourable.

Shaking out his clothing from the previous day, Loki dressed quickly. He smoothed the lines of his tunic, tightened his sash, and checked the fall of his coat. Although he dressed with as much care as the day before, there was a slightly rumpled look about him and the fabric made him feel unwashed. He had not expected to sweat quite as much as he had.

No matter, he would bear it; continuity was key.

In the square, a small crowd had already gathered, watching, Loki supposed, to see if he would continue his vigil. They were not disappointed. There was much whispering amongst them as he took up his station at the base of the stairs, feet slightly apart, hands clasped behind his back. Coin changed hands; he had become the object of a wager.

The second morning passed as slowly as the first. Some approached him, asking their repetitive questions, and Loki answered them just as he had done before. He ignored anyone trying to incite his wrath and pretended not to hear the comments and suggestions hurled at him from the edges of the crowd. It seemed to be a game to them, trying to get him to react other than he had prescribed, and the temptation was certainly there, but Loki fixed his goal in mind and bit his tongue, keeping its barbs locked well away.

The news of Thor's penitence seemed to have spread and there was a buzz of anger about the issue. Loki was not surprised. People in large groups tended toward the foolish and none of them seemed inclined to realize that the demands of the envoys were right and just and that his protest was directed toward something else entirely.

Thankfully, one man made his point for him by throwing a cup of wine in his face.

"You are all riled up over this pretty liar," the man said, addressing the people nearest him. A murmur rippled through the gathering. "You know his silver-tongued reputation. Injury to an envoy is a grave offense, yes, but do you know that Thor is imprisoned in his brother's stead? And now he would have you rise up against Alfheim and finish what he started."

The man stalked away in disgust and a new wave of arguments broke out among those who passed through the square. Loki waited a while and then unclasped his hands to wipe the wine from his face with his sleeve.

"Do you make reply to actions now?" someone asked.

"The sensation of wine on one's face is unpleasant," Loki said. "I remedied this, nothing more."

Fortunately, not all of Asgard was determined to prod him into impatience. Some were quite astute and, made better aware of the current political atmosphere, asked serious questions regarding the health of the envoys, the incident at the banquet, and the possible repercussions if Freyer was not satisfied. These Loki answered to the best of his ability and his replies were carried off to fuel the fire of public opinion.

Midday came and passed and Loki shifted uncomfortably as the temperature rose. The wine soaked into his tunic was unpleasant and smelled sickeningly sweet, but he could endure it. Surprisingly, he was not hungry although the deep throbbing starting once again in his back and in his head did much to quell his appetite. Water would have been welcome, but he would not leave his station and was determined to complete his objective without assistance that was not freely given.

He was resigned to petty annoyance for the rest of the day when a face he knew well appeared in the crowd of onlookers. Arne and his companions had evidently received word of his protest and come to test his mettle. If they noticed the buzz of gossip increase as they made their way through the square, they paid it no mind.

"Failed prince," Arne greeted Loki sardonically as he walked up to stand before him. "What brings you to this place?"

"I am protesting Thor's imprisonment."

"And whose fault is that, I wonder."

Loki did not dignify this comment with a twitch, let alone an answer. He knew well that his own anger had damned him, but it was Thor's vow that put him in chains. Neither would have come into effect if he had been able to silence Arne surreptitiously, but without access to magical energy he had become a target. Now he was in a fine mess indeed, but if he was meant to fall, he would drag Arne down after him for his insolence.

"Have you no reply for me, Liesmith?"

"I reply to neither comment, nor action, only fair questions," Loki told him.

Arne smirked. "So you say and so I have heard, but I do not believe it. Many of those below you have suffered your pranks and know you'll bear no insult. Not for long." He prodded Loki in the chest. "What say you to that?"

"I say that if mere pranks are what drove you to precipitate an attack on Alfheim, then you are carrying your grudges for far too long."

"And you have never held a grudge?"

"I have a better sense of when to act."

"You suggest that a banquet is the place to act?"

Loki smiled coldly. "Do not mistake a threat for a grudge, you low-born half-wit," he said in a low voice so that few could hear him. "If you had half the brains of your companions, you would have kept your own council today."

Loki shifted his gaze to the one man in Arne's group that he believed had some sense and was not surprised to find that he had already slipped into the crowd and disappeared. If he followed Arne, it was a matter of rank and this was not something for which he was willing to dirty his hands. Loki thought it might be worth learning the man's name; he might prove to be useful.

But now was not the time or the place to ponder such things. Arne was becoming irritated and required his full attention.

"Do you think you know me, Liesmith?"

"I think I am free to offer an opinion, if asked," Loki told him.

Arne spat in his face.

The spittle struck just below his right eye. Loki tightened his grip on his own wrists to keep from lashing out and fought to control his expression. If anything, he allowed his smile to widen, ever so slightly, knowing it would anger his opponent.

"Will you not avenge this insult?" Arne said.

"I will offer a response to fair questions, but neither actions nor comments," Loki reminded him.

"And I will prove you a liar."

Arne spat at him a second time, hitting his left cheek.

It was much harder for Loki to endure this second offense, but he gritted his teeth and locked his voice behind a truly vicious smile whose malice could be seen by no one but the man before him and the handful of companions that supported him. Even these had begun to edge away, finally showing some of the sense of their vanished comerade.

Arne did not display even a fraction of their intelligence.

"You want to attack me, I see it clearly. Do so and have done with it!" he taunted, face colouring with anger.

The offer was tempting, but Loki found his desire to crush the man physically quietly dissipating. Arne's reaction to his steadfast refusal to damn himself a second time was nearly as satisfying and the physical torment could always come later. Moreover, he knew something that Arne did not and angering him would serve a far greater purpose than simply striking him down. The chance of success was small, but the reward could be great, and the price of failure little more than revenge deferred.

Or so he hoped.

Loki shifted his sight from staring Arne down and focused instead on the horizon as before, monitoring the man from the corner of his eye. He even retracted his smile, gambling that a lack of expression would fuel Arne's anger far better than a promise of future retribution.

His gamble paid off.

The knife was long and slim and Loki knew it well although he had not seen it since the banquet. With a flick of the wrist, Arne withdrew it and pressed its point against Loki's ribs.

"It's back to this, I suppose," Arne said in a low voice as Loki flicked his gaze downward to confirm the threat against him. "The guards are at the top of the steps and see and hear nothing. If you wish to be rid of me, you will have to defend yourself."

Now that he knew Arne's methods, Loki was not fool enough to believe that the man would try to injure him in this crowd or that the knife could not be hidden quickly if he drew attention to it. However, the thing that Loki knew was now approaching Arne from behind: a changing of the guard that would pass them by, and all it took was a little will to sway almost imperceptibly forward and let the sharp, slim blade cut into his shirt and skate over his ribs, drawing a thin line of fire. He hissed at the sting, startling even Arne, who stumbled back as the guardsmen filed past on either side of them.

There was no real law against drawing a knife in the public square, especially if no fight was evident, but Asgard favoured strength, courage, and valor and the tableau of Loki, his hands clasped behind his back, hunched over in seeming pain before a man with a bloodied knife could not help but draw comment.

One of the guards dropped a heavy hand upon Arne's shoulder.

"Do you threaten an unarmed man?" he asked in a voice loud enough to draw the attention of others in the square.

"Of course not," Arne said. "I…withdrew this blade to show its workmanship. It was an accident."

"Is this true?" a second guard asked Loki.

"No," Loki replied, offering no inflection.

"You are a liar," Arne said, but Loki ignored him.

"Are you injured?" the second guard persisted.

"Not terribly," Loki admitted, touching a hand to the place where the blade had cut him and pressing slightly. A thin trickle of blood oozed from between his fingers. "It might have been an accident, though he did threaten me."

"We will have him removed."

As the guards firmly encouraged Arne to leave the area, Loki caught the man's eye and tipped him a wink, a gesture so quick that no one else caught it. Arne reddened with anger, but could do nothing while he was being escorted. Loki was not naïve enough to believe that there would be further official sanctions; in Asgard public combat was not uncommon. Rank and honour had more to do with Arne's removal than any code of laws. However, a great number of people had paid witness to Arne's cowardly attack on an unarmed man, and that served Loki's purposes well enough.

Personal satisfaction could be taken much later.

Deciding he had waited long enough, Loki raised his sleeve to wipe the spittle from his face when familiar footfalls approached from behind him.

"In Odin's name… What has happened here?" Frigga said as Loki swiftly drew his arm over both cheeks and resumed his stance.

"A small matter. The guards have taken care of it," he told her.

"I should have them stationed all about you or take care of the matter myself," Frigga said as she came into view. She regarded her son and her indignation softened. "Although you would not like that, would you?"

"No," Loki said.

"Not even my company?"

"You have matters to attend to," Loki said. "Especially now."

"Yes," Frigga said. "Especially now."

She sighed. "You know the guards would like to remove you as well, don't you?"

"I was not aware."

"You have caused quite a stir in Asgard, it seems," Frigga said. She pulled a handkerchief from her robes and gestured to a servant who brought forth a jug and wet the cloth with water. "There is much whispered talk about your performance here, and some shouting as well. The guards would prefer to cut such problems off at the source, but I have made it clear that there is no law against standing unarmed in the public square."

When she reached up to wash his face, Loki's instinct was to pull away, but he fought it. Having established that he would not flinch from a knife, he could hardly break character over a fussy woman.

He waited impassively as Frigga ran the damp cloth over his face and then wet it further to sponge the wine from his tunic. She tutted over his wound, glimpsed through the hole in his shirt, but the scratch was light and already beginning to heal, so she let it be. She passed the soiled cloth to her servant and took from him a cup, which she filled from the jug.

"Will you drink this?" she asked holding out the cup.

"If it is offered," Loki replied and drank deeply. He had not realized how thirsty he was until the water passed his lips, but he dared not drink more. He drained the vessel and returned it, then reassumed his stance.

"I have food as well. Will you take some?"

"I will eat later," Loki said.

Frigga smiled sadly. "I saw what remained of the food that I sent to your chamber, but I suppose you will do as you will do." She idly straightened his shirt and the collar of his coat. "You are my son," she said, "and I love you, but I fear I will never understand you. Your father…but he is with the envoys, as he must be."

She paused then, with her hands upon his shoulders, and Loki felt a child again: tested, measured, and judged, though not harshly. Frigga's love for her sons was infinite. For a moment, he was fearful, although her thoughts should mean little to him, but if she seemed sad when she stepped away, she showed no sign of disappointment.

"You will be the death of me," she said. "Your mind is a mystery I cannot fathom and I grow old with worry. Still, I suppose, you have your reasons; in that you are like your father. Are you certain you do not need me here?"

The comparison with Odin rankled for Loki was certain Frigga could mean no other. A part of him was thankful for her support even if she could not hope to understand his motivation and he had no intention of explaining it to her. Nevertheless, there were things to which he must attend himself.

"Yes," he told her. "In this I must stand alone."

"I will respect your wishes although it pains me," Frigga said, "but you cannot keep me from passing by this way when I am free from obligation, understood?"

"I know I cannot."

In truth, Loki did not wish to prevent her coming. It was not a matter of comfort so much as the scraps of news that she brought. Although, by his own rules, he could not ask her outright, Frigga's mostly one-sided conversations let slip the state of things in Asgard, something he could not leave his post to discover on his own. In this way, the arrangement suited them both: she could play at being his mother and he could hear of the city's general mood.

"Then I will leave you for now. Do not linger when twilight falls; Asgard is becoming restless."

Sage advice, Loki decided as she walked away. A restless populace was both desirable and dangerous, particularly in his current state. Enough people had poked and prodded him in the square and, having elicited no response, were likely fool enough to think they could assault him in less public venues once it was dark. Arne, too, might be a problem if he sought retaliation. Loki did not fear these things, but being forced to defend himself might spoil the image of non-action he was slowly building.

The rest of the day passed in a haze of quiet boredom as people came and went from the square, not quite daring to gather after Arne's removal by the guards, but still curious enough to see if anything had changed. Loki became more aware of people walking by in twos and threes, openly pointing at him and whispering to their companions, spreading rumours about the day's events.

When the light began to fade, Loki made his way back to his chambers. He did not rush, nor did he linger, walking only with purpose, not fear. He was not accosted anywhere along the route, but he could feel the eyes of every Asgardian upon him as he passed.

He was becoming an icon, a symbol of broken negotiations.

In the safety of his room, Loki stripped, washed, relieved himself, and examined the damage to his shirt, which matched the fine, red line skating over his lower left ribs. It was a shame, but it couldn't be helped. It would, in fact, aid his cause quite nicely.

Too weary to eat, Loki nevertheless forced himself to swallow a few bites of the food Frigga had kindly sent ahead. This time she made the admirable choice of sending a meal that could be eaten quickly and cold and would keep easily overnight: bread, honey, small fruits, and nuts. Water and wine were also included, but Loki eschewed the latter; he would need all of his wits about him.

Thus sated, he fell into bed and a dark and dreamless sleep.

 

 

 

On the third day, chaos erupted.

Loki rose against his body's will. The aches from his injuries had shifted to his back, shoulders, and calves, muscles cramped from long hours unmoving.

He washed, drank, and regarded his image in the mirror. His bruises were rapidly fading to a greenish yellow, but would serve their purpose a while longer, offset by his pale skin. He looked wan, tired, and somehow disconnected, which was not surprising: he felt disconnected. The banquet seemed an age ago, Thor's imprisonment a distant memory.

He felt it might have something to do with his low intake of food and water, but there was no help for it. If he wished to stand for hours on end, he could not impose on his body's processes. Fortunately to this purpose, he did not feel especially hungry; weariness and the heat of day seemed to take care of that. However, a pervasive light-headedness had begun to affect him and it was strange to see it reflected as he looked into the mirror.

He dressed in the clothing of the day before, although it stank of sweat and sour wine, and made his way to his station. It was early and few people were about, but those he passed murmured to each other. Few were unaffected.

Once at the foot of the stairs and standing more or less comfortably, Loki allowed his thoughts to lull him into a semi-doze. He wondered how long he would have to keep this vigil and whether it would make a difference in the end. At least he knew it was having an effect: as the square filled with people, so did it fill with dissent. Asgard argued openly about his presence and his cause, rumours circulated, and opinions were given.

Although few cared to confront him as closely as Arne after yesterday's scene, many called to him as he stood stiffly before the steps to the halls of Odin. Some shouted insults, and some shouted words of encouragement. A few continued to ask questions, but they were rarely original and Loki answered them with the same phrases as before. This brought fresh waves of anger or support, but Loki ignored them both in equal measure. He was simply not in the mood to hear them.

Let them fight amongst themselves, he thought as the light and the heat and the drone of the crowd muddied his perception of time. And yet, while it would be lovely to sleep on his feet, Loki did not trust himself not to fall over, doing grievous harm to his efforts, and so he stayed awake enough by focusing on the stories circulating through the crowd as it drew nearer and melted away from him.

Few people had known of Thor's imprisonment before Loki stood in protest before them, but now, it seemed, everyone had an opinion. It had forced Loki to admit his part in the disruption at the banquet, but such honesty served its purpose, including the building of trust. Until this day, the greatest arguments from his detractors had been an uncertainty regarding Arne's behaviour at the banquet and a reassurance that Loki was lying. The events of the day before had done much to quell this story although many still insisted it was an elaborate hoax, to which the others could only nod their heads thoughtfully.

It was possible, yes, but was it probable? Those who believed him pointed to the hole sliced into his tunic, the fading bruises on his face, and the verifiable fact that Thor was indeed imprisoned for harm against an envoy of Alfheim.

Those who stood against him were sceptical and believed the whole scenario to be a construct. Even Loki had to admit that this was not an unreasonable assumption. He had played many tricks in his time, some quite possibly against those who spoke against him now.

In any event, it mattered not. As far as Loki was concerned, the two sides could argue with one another and leave him alone to savour the mindless drone of their voices. It was a tangible sign that he was having an effect on the thoughts and lives of the people around him, a control he could not have achieved with words: oration of a dissenting nature in the public square would have been curtailed by the guards as public nuisance. Standing silently, barring the occasional explanation, was not, as Frigga herself stated, a crime.

The idea of power that could be wielded in secret, without resort to weapons or magic, was exhilarating and he drifted in a haze of mild euphoria that allowed him to keep his patience and politely reply to those questions still being put to him. However, most of the work fell to the guards who tried to keep the square free of arguing factions.

And they did have their work. With so many differing opinions, the stairway to Odin's hall was filled with people, coming and going, intent on securing an audience to ask questions that Loki could not or would not answer and have their opinions heard. That Odin was unlikely to see them was no deterrent; there were officials and servants to harass until they were satisfied.

"My troublesome child," Frigga said, not unkindly, when she stopped by to pay Loki a visit. She looked tired and drawn, far worse, in many ways, than he. "You have done nothing but stand here from dawn until dusk for three days and yet you have the whole of Asgard up in arms. They speak against you, against your father, against the envoys. They say the decisions are just, unjust, and reasonable, but outdated. You have sparked an internal unrest unseen in Asgard for hundreds of years. Are you pleased?"

"This is not a matter of pleasure," Loki assured her, although he was.

"I know," Frigga said, "but so, too, do I know you. If my understanding is poor, it is not for lack of attention. I am your mother and I know that you are proud of your cleverness. Do not dig a trap so deep you cannot climb out of it yourself."

Loki made no comment to this, but Frigga did not seem to expect one. She offered him water, which he drank willingly, and took her leave of him. The drone of voices surrounded him once more, creating a blended din of white noise that lulled him into a state of complacency. So distracting were they that Loki could hardly perceive them until they petered out into near perfect silence, broken only by the sound of solid boots descending the stairway behind him.

"What is the meaning of this?" Odin bellowed from the landing. "All night and all day my halls are filled with mewling complaints. Have you no duties to attend to? No households? No families? Do you think you can rule in my place? If so, then any one of you is welcome to challenge me in combat for the right to my throne. Step forward, those who dare, and I shall test your mettle!"

Loki was not surprised when no one accepted the challenge. In fact, those gathered before him appeared to shrink back as though afraid that any show of assertiveness might mark them as both a challenger and a fool.

"No one dares confront me?" Odin shouted across the square. "Then be off with all of you and let me not hear of another such gathering unless one be bold enough to speak for you. Go!"

Those who had not already slunk away dispersed and it took all of Loki's will to maintain his stiff and defiant posture. As Odin's footsteps approached, he could hear lighter footfalls behind them accompanied by the measured pace of a handful of guards.

"Of course you are at the centre of this," Odin said as he reached the base and passed into Loki's view. "Even if your mother had not told me as much, it would not have been difficult to guess."

As Odin spoke, the envoys of Alfheim gathered beside him, protected by guards. All three were present, although Ivar seemed pale and in discomfort. The edge of a bandage peeked from beneath his robe, suggesting it had been drawn across his chest and over his shoulder. In spite of his pain, Ivar held himself proudly erect and ready to fight on behalf of his companions. Geir and Ranveig, for their part, did not appear angry or concerned, only curious and perhaps slightly horrified by Loki's appearance. Envoys were neatly groomed at all times, as befitted their station; it seemed an odd thing to them that someone of rank would willingly appear in disarray.

For a moment, there was silence, and then Odin spoke again.

"Frigga told me of your little game. Does it hold true for me as well?"

"In all fairness, it must, All-Father," Loki said. Not quite daring to witness Odin's reaction to this statement, he glanced at the envoys. Geir and Ranveig appeared satisfied by this response. Ivar remained impassive.

"I suppose it must," Odin said. He sighed heavily. "Know that I care not for your display, Loki. Although there is no crime in it and does not disobey an order, I find it impudent. But then, you have never feared to speak out of turn when you have had something to say. The envoys wish to ask you questions. Is this agreeable?"

"Of course. I will answer all fair questions," Loki replied. He was nervous, but not frightened. This was the moment that would determine whether his gambit had paid off.

Although Geir was foremost of the envoys, he gestured to Ranveig, whom Loki thought of as the seat of intellect and wisdom among the three. She bowed to her superior and stepped forward, offering Loki a quick and curious examination before she addressed him.

"What is your name?"

"I am Loki, of Asgard," Loki replied. Thor had introduced him to her once already, but the formality of the question suggested that he was being judged on his response to the questions themselves as well as the answers he gave. Quick and precise replies delivered pleasantly but without passion would no doubt serve him best.

"And what are you doing here, Loki of Asgard?"

"I am standing before the steps leading to the halls of Odin," Loki replied.

"Why are you standing before the steps leading to the halls of Odin?"

"To protest Thor's imprisonment."

"And why do you protest?" Ranveig said. "Do you find our pronouncement unsound?"

"No," Loki replied. He was treading on dangerous ground. He could not tell them the true purpose of his display, but he could not imply that the injury done to Ivar should go unpunished. "I protest only that Thor has been imprisoned in my stead. The insult to Alfheim is the indirect result of my poor judgment and mine alone. I must atone, for I am grievously hurt that I have caused suffering in those worthy of my respect."

Ranveig tilted her head as she watched him speak and Loki was taken with how fine and elegant a gesture it was. Like all her people, she was ethereally beautiful and glowed with the warmth of inner magic. He had no doubt that she could kill him in an instant if she chose.

"Your speech is flattering, Loki of Asgard," Ranveig said, "but is it not true that Thor made a sacred vow?"

"It is true."

"What was his vow, son of Asgard?"

"To take upon himself all reprimand against me for actions performed in defense against an unprovoked attack," Loki admitted.

"And is it not true that you were threatened?"

"Threatened, but never in danger," Loki told her. "Such a drastic action would not be taken at such an important affair."

"If you faced no danger, why then would you defend yourself?"

"Impatience and pride," Loki said. The truth, or at least the most pitiable portion of it seemed best at this time. "The man was harassing me for a slight, perceived or factual, I cannot say." He chanced a slight smile. "I'm afraid that I have irritated many with small pranks in the past. It was my intention to disarm him and thus show I would not be cowed. I expected I would be removed from the hall. I did not expect full-fledged retaliation. Such was my poor judgment."

"I see," Ranveig said.

She paused a moment in thought, and then turned and bent to Geir with whom she conversed in whispered words whose shape Loki could not discern. When she turned back to him, she steepled her fingers before her lips, gathered her words, dropped her hands to her waist, and spoke.

"You are not the first to mention small pranks, my lord," she said, eying him shrewdly. "I am told that you do more than dabble in tricks and possess, in truth, a great command of magic. Is this true?"

"Now it is you who flatter me, my lady," Loki said. "I have some magic talent, it is true, but my powers are sealed at present."

"How so?"

"My tongue is runed against magic, both given and received."

"May I see?"

Loki feigned a hint of modesty, looking down and away from the envoy. If he could have blushed at will, he might have done so.

"Forgive my impertinence," he said and stuck out his tongue to her.

Ranveig delicately grasped his jaw and Loki felt her fingers warm against his skin, felt as well the echoing heat at the centre of his tongue as the runes flared, absorbing the energy and dissipating it. As long as they were a part of him, he could not touch or be touched by magical energy and they could only be removed by Odin himself, or one whose power in magic was great enough to crack this most ancient of spells.

"It is as you say," Ranveig confirmed and Loki closed his mouth. "I will not ask why the rune exists; such matters are personal. However, as these runes may be placed anywhere upon the body, I must ask: Why the tongue?"

"A reminder to keep my council," Loki told her, "and not work magic of a more mundane kind."

"Ah, yes," Ranveig said. "I have witnessed your pretty speeches, but is it not true that you are also known as the liesmith?"

"Indeed," Loki said. There was no use in denying it.

"And why are you so known?"

"Because I have a gift for untruth or, perhaps, for seeing the many sides of the truth. Words themselves are trickery, proposing to make simple statements of complex ideas. I play with them and some see falsehood, but what might be a lie to one could be the truth to another."

Loki contrived to look humble once more. Ranveig seemed impressed, if unconvinced, by his observations, but did not pursue them.

"And have you told me any lies, Loki of Asgard?"

"Perhaps."

This seemed to surprise Ranveig, who arched her eyebrows and drew back a little in mock affront.

"What do you mean by 'perhaps'?"

"It is as I have said," Loki replied. "A lie to one might be truth to another. I have played with meanings my entire life. To deny the possibility of falsehood would be the greatest untruth of all."

"How, then, can I know if you are telling me the truth?"

"You cannot," Loki said simply. "You can but take my words and compare them to what you know by your own observation. In return, I will answer only questions so that only information that is desired will be provided."

"And should I need more questions answered, will you be here?" Ranveig said.

"From first light until twilight, so long as Thor is imprisoned, I will keep my post, unchanging."

"Is this a vow that you have made?"

"No vow, my lady, for vows tempt fate. It is a purpose I have set to myself."

"Very well." Ranveig stepped away and bowed in deference to Loki's determination. He did not echo her gesture, but she did not seem to expect it. "I will leave you to your protest, Loki of Asgard. We must confer."

Loki resumed his stare into the distance as Odin escorted the envoys back into his hall so that they might speak together.

The square remained quiet but for the occasional servant going about their business and Loki allowed his mind to drift a little until the light faded and he was able to return to his chamber. There he drank, washed, and ignored the food that was brought to him before falling into a dreamless sleep.

 

 

 

On the fourth day, Loki found the square all but empty.

Cowed by Odin's orders, the people of Asgard went about their business, crossing the square only when necessary. Frigga visited him, bearing her usual cup of water, but most of those whose business took them to the halls of Odin passed him in silence.

He noted, however, that none of them failed to look at him. Their gazes ranged from rabid curiosity, to fierce support, to utter condemnation, but not a single one passed him over.

It was victory, of a sort.

 

 

 

On the fifth day, Loki began to feel the effects of warm days and meagre meals in full force. He looked ragged, he felt ragged, and his clothing reeked of blood, wine, and sweat. Although he bathed daily, the effort was wasted the moment he dressed himself.

Still, the clothing carried with it its own continuity, marking his days and the assaults made on his person with an undeniable reality. So long as he wore them, there was no question of glamour or deceit.

Likewise, the accumulated effects of little water and less food suggested, more or less, that he was as he appeared to be. Although he was far from starving, the hollow and disconnected look of mild hunger and dehydration were nearly impossible to fake, especially without the use of magic. By going about it the hard way, he not only bypassed the physiological problems of standing still for hours on end, but lent himself an air of legitimacy as well. Even so, Loki knew he would have to pace himself and eat a reasonable meal come evening. If his gambit did not pay off, he doubted he could survive at his current clip for the entire twenty days of Thor's imprisonment.

Around midday, the square began to fill. Guards entered and secured a perimetre around the centre, followed by the first trickle of citizens. The trickle became a flood and soon the outer edges were filled with a press of onlookers. Loki watched them all with detached curiosity. It took him a moment to realize what was happening. Caught up in his own plans, he had nearly forgotten: as per the decree of Alfheim, Thor was to be publicly flogged on the fifth day of his imprisonment.

They had chosen this square for the spectacle.

Loki almost laughed, but forced himself to keep a straight face. He wondered if this had been the plan all along or if the venue was chosen as a counter-point to his little display. He would not put it past Ranveig to coerce her countrymen into selecting the spot with the most visual impact. She seemed shrewd and, like all those skilled in magic, knew that perception was a powerful tool.

No sooner had he finished his thought than he heard the synchronized footsteps of a procession descending the stairs behind him. He could not turn to look, but he knew what he would see: Odin leading the procession, flanked by guards, with Frigga at his side. The envoys would follow and, behind them, the retainers and servants that would support them.

He knew that Odin should stand at the foot of the stairs, that he was essentially blocking the All-Father's path, but Loki remained committed to his own agenda and refused to move, indeed even if asked. However, his steadfast refusal was not required as he heard the party fan out behind him and could see, from the corner of his eye, Odin and Frigga slightly behind him and to his left, backed by their guards and retainers and the envoys, Geir, Ranveig, and Ivar, similarly aligned on his right.

There was no longer any doubt in Loki's mind that the spectacle had been planned around his performance. He was singled out, isolated and alone, and yet visually placed within the family ranks. It was a brilliance and elegance worthy of admiration and, in spite of the occasion's solemnity, Loki found himself eagre to see how the game would be played.

The crowd parted at the far end of the square and a procession of guards, their approach muffled by the shifting and murmuring of the crowd, stepped through, the first two escorting a chained and docile Thor between them. He was looking at his feet, playing the part of the humbled prisoner -– or perhaps genuinely humbled by Ivar's injuries – and did not see the tableau before him until the guards had marched him to the front of the square and pushed him to his knees.

Only once he was in this position of humility did he look up -– perhaps seeking the consent of his father, perhaps expecting to confront the envoys – and see Loki standing before him. The dawning realization in his expression, the shock and underlying dismay, was heartrending and, Loki thought, the perfect finishing touch to the carefully crafted scene.

Thor's surprise and dismay were well warranted. Thor looked well enough for his imprisonment in spite of the welts across his back and shoulders that spoke his earlier punishment. Even these were nearly healed and it was quite obvious by his physique that if Thor submitted to the second flogging, it was by his choice; if he had desired to fell his guards and break free of his restraints, he could have done so.

Loki knew as well how he must seem, standing worn and tattered in a stance designed to keep him upright for hours. Unkempt and of apparent ill health, he looked to have suffered twice the punishment Thor had intended to keep from him. He said nothing, did nothing, did not even change expression, but regarded Thor with the same distant look he granted the horizon, as an object of focus and nothing more.

"Brother, why…?" Thor said before a guard commanded him to be silent.

Loki sensed movement to his right and endeavoured to glance in that direction without seeming obvious. He thought he saw Ranveig lean over to whisper in Geir's ear before the latter stepped forward and positioned himself to address the crowd. To Loki's left, Odin followed suit. They faced each other, envoy and All-Father, and then Geir bowed solemnly as Odin gestured for him to speak.

"Citizens of Asgard," Geir said, addressing the crowd, "I am Geir, of Alfheim, herald and envoy of Freyer. Recently, my companion, Ivar, suffered injury at the hands of one of your people while feasting in the halls of Odin. I do not need to tell you the grievous nature of this offense, which is an act against Alfheim itself.

"To prove no ill intent, protocol demanded an act of contrition and good faith on behalf of the ruling house: a flogging as immediate reprisal, two ten-spans of days imprisonment for acts of aggression, and a public flogging on every fifth day for the involvement of the ruling house. As you have no doubt heard, this penitence fell to Loki, son of Odin, a figure central to the original disturbance, but was undertaken by his brother Thor in his place. With this, we were satisfied, as the punishment fell to the house and not the individual. However, not all agreed with our pronouncement."

At this time, Loki felt the eyes of Odin and of all those gathered there upon him. He contrived to ignore the power of their stares and focused only on that invisible point, slightly behind Thor.

"Since his brother's imprisonment, Loki has stood in the square in protest, victim of heat and sun, hunger and thirst. These acts: the willing acceptance of our pronouncement by Thor and the penitence freely given by Loki, have convinced us that no ill will was intended toward Alfheim or its envoys. We have deemed the incident to be the result of an unfortunate turn of events and thus release Thor from his imprisonment and all associated punishments. We, who speak for Freyer, recognize the honour done to Alfheim by the sons of Odin and bid them walk free."

As Geir finished speaking, Thor's guards stepped forward and released him from his chains as excited whispers traveled through the crowd. By the time Thor stood up, rubbing his wrists, the sound had escalated to the joyous exclamations and ragged cheers of a crowd that did not fully understand the implications of the speech, but knew a good sign when they saw one. The throng pushed forward, but guards held them back lest Thor be crushed by well-meaning fellows wishing to pound him on the back.

Aching and sore, Loki abandoned his stance and tried to rub the stiffness out of his arms and hands. He was somewhat irritated by the adulation Thor received simply for being locked up in a room for several days, but he knew it would be counter-productive to let this be known and struggled to keep his face a mask. He did not sense Frigga until she was beside him and had reached out to take his hand in her own.

"I am proud of you, my child," she said, stroking his fingers. Her hands were warm and comforting. "You have a great gift, you know. Both honour and despair lie in its use; choose wisely."

She seemed about to speak again, but Thor bounded toward them like an overzealous puppy and clamped a hand on Loki's shoulder. Loki, who had relied on his stance to keep him upright for the past day or so, felt his knees buckle under the gesture's jarring enthusiasm, but Thor neatly covered the slip by grabbing his other shoulder and supporting him until he could regain his balance.

"Well done, brother," Thor said, seeming genuinely pleased. "Though I would not have asked you to put yourself through such trials, I am honoured by your efforts. Of us all, only you would have thought to charm the envoys thus."

"I did that which I thought necessary," Loki replied.

"You have acquitted yourself well," Thor said as a touch of sadness crept into his expression. "Perhaps one day you will feel this as I do and be satisfied. Ah, but now is not the time for dreaming," he continued, a grin splitting his face. "Now is the time for celebration!"

Without warning, he grabbed Loki's wrist, turned to face the crowd and raised both their hands above him in a gesture of victory. This prompted a new round of raucous cheers and although Loki knew in no uncertain terms that they were for Thor's freedom alone, he permitted himself to enjoy the attention and adulation for as long as it would last.

"Thor!" Frigga scolded. "Do not excite them. Your brother might not wish to celebrate and you both must rest."

"Rest I have had in plenty these past few days," Thor told her, "but you are right. We are both deserving of good food, good wine, and clean clothing. What say you, brother?"

If Thor had not spent the past few days imprisoned without basic necessities, Loki might have taken the comment for an insult. Instead, he was overwhelmed with relief.

"I look forward to it," he said.

"And rest," Frigga reminded him, placing a gentle hand on his arm. "Your father must convene with the envoys once more -–" Indeed, they had already left. "-–but will wish to speak to both of you in the morning. And you especially, Loki."

Loki resisted the urge to touch his tongue and feel the imprint of the runes burned there. He dared not hope for a release from his curse, but Frigga's smile suggested that such hope might not be misplaced. If that were the case, his venture had been more profitable than he imagined.

He thought he might feel the urge to celebrate after all.

 

 

 

In his chamber, Loki lounged in a chair, enjoying the cool darkness and complete absence of people. It was strange how the mere act of sitting could feel so luxurious after so much time spent on his feet. Although his injuries from the banquet had all but vanished, sun, stiffness, and dehydration had taken their own toll and it was good to simply rest and recover.

Nausea and exhaustion made it difficult to eat, more so since he was out of the habit of doing so, but he forced himself to swallow food in small mouthfuls. It was important to regain his strength and even more important to counter-act the effects of the alcohol he had consumed. Thor had insistent on a celebratory drink and he was impossible to refuse – more so if Loki wanted to reinforce his good impression. It was only a cup of wine, but he was already light-headed and the drink had set his thoughts reeling. If he did not eat properly tonight, he would be truly ill by morning.

Still, the sacrifice was worth it if it helped erase some of the negative opinions about him. Although Thor was right and few in Asgard seemed aware of his time in Midgard, there were still those who held a grudge against him, most especially Sif and the Warriors Three, and whatever he could do to alleviate their suspicions was indeed worthwhile. In spite of simmering animosities, they had all been on their best behaviour and Loki was forced to admit that it was…nice to go out with a group again. Of course, they were there for Thor and he was little more than a nuisance, but such had always been the case. The only difference between now and then was in the stiffness of their smiles.

No matter, the act was done and now he had some time to himself to relax and plan before getting some much-needed rest. Although he had slept like the dead these past few nights, he felt as though he had not slept at all. Part of it was the quality of his sleep: collapsing from exhaustion had more in common with unconsciousness than rest. The other part he attributed to the continuous gnawing at his brain, the feeling of a thousand rats scratching at the door to his thoughts.

If the rune were removed tomorrow, if he was permitted his magic, he would have to begin. No more waiting. No more plotting. Things would need to be set in motion.

What were his options?

There were the Chitauri, of course. He was still marked by Thanos and it would serve his best interest to get the Tesseract to them…or perhaps something of equal value if it would make them forget their promises and leave him in peace. Still, there might be a way to wriggle out of that deal – their army had been quite poor after all – it was simply a matter of being prepared for the worst.

Alfheim was to be considered as well. He was certain he had made an impression on Ranveig even as she had impressed him in turn. He would wager that the day's spectacle had been arranged at her insistence. Quite a tableau, and the best way to highlight the magnanimity of her people before the Aesir. She knew as well that he was gifted in magic and no doubt thought she could coerce him into doing her bidding if his powers were restored. Indeed, if he were released from his curse, he would not be surprised to find she had had a hand in the All-Father's decision.

And then there was Svartaflheim.

If war was imminent, as many seemed to think, he could not remain unenlightened. He would need to investigate, discover Malekith's plans. Indeed, he might need to contact Malekith himself and see if he could be of service…in return for special favours, of course. Loki had no intention of allowing Malekith to possess the throne of Asgard, but there was certainly no harm in allowing the man to think that he did, especially if he were thus able to further his own agenda.

Loki rose from his bed and paced the floor of his chamber, his mind a whirl of possibility.

The whole would have to be accomplished without Asgard realizing his true purpose, that much was clear. If things went wrong, he would still need to be seen as one of them, and worthy of trust, tentative as it might be. He needed access to its libraries, its resources, and its relics…

Loki spun his plans into an intricate web, excited by the thought that they might soon be put into action. He could almost see them in his hands, brilliant threads of possibility twined around his fingers like a puppet's strings. So complex…

And for what?

The shudder of doubt shook him. The thought that he might not be seeing the whole of the picture joined the gnawing throng in the depths of his mind. The threads of plots and plans strung between his fingers turned to gossamer and dissolved.

Choose wisely.

Choose? He had choices a-plenty, each more dangerous than the last. But if the past few days had taught him little else, it was that magic was not limited to the energy he once wielded. Although the breaking of the rune upon his tongue would certainly help and mark a level of trust he never thought he would see again, magic was also in the manipulation of the senses and, ultimately, the mind.

All of Asgard in chaos as he stood unmoving at the foot of the stairs before the halls of Odin…

He caught a reflection of himself in the mirror and grinned.

"I am Loki, of Asgard," he told it, "and my power is infinite."