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Chapter Text

Loki did not remember falling asleep. The last thing he remembered was pulling over to have lunch in the park of some small town or other. The food Maria had given them was complemented by gingered ale for Loki and real ale for Thor, which he disguised with a decoy soda can, a trick he claimed to have learned from Stark.

For an upstanding citizen, Tony Stark was exceedingly underhanded. Loki felt a wash of admiration for the man.

After lunch, a number of supplementary snacks and drinks had been purchased and Loki had gallantly allowed Thor to share in DeeDee’s desserts, after which…

Well, he supposed he must have fallen asleep shortly after that. He remembered nothing else except the hypnotic quality of the road and the heat of the sun where the rays touched his skin, a mild burning sensation not even the air conditioning could dispel.

Ah well… He had slept and now he was awake and they were in a new town that did not look nearly as big or as shiny as Amarillo, but had its own character with distinct patterns and layered colours.

He stretched luxuriously and felt something slide off his lap. He snatched at it instinctively, fearing it was his journal, but it turned out to be a plastic container full of cupcake wrappers. Relieved, he snapped the lid back on and tossed the container in the back seat, narrowly missing Ikol, who huffed at him.

“Do not dispose of your trash that way,” Thor scolded, but gently.

“I will pick it up. I will!” Loki insisted when Thor side-eyed him. “I simply do not want it on my lap. Where are we?”

“This town is called Gallup,” Thor said. “It was my intention to stop earlier, but, as we started late and you were sleeping soundly, I decided to drive on a while.”

“So we will not see many sights here,” Loki said, only mildly disappointed. He was curious and wanted to see as much as he could, but he was also rather tired and out of sorts, no doubt a result of his very busy night.

“Not tonight,” Thor agreed, “although a walk around town would not be out of order. It will do you good to stretch a little and we will have more time for touring tomorrow. Did you sleep well?”

“Well enough,” Loki said and checked the time on his phone. He was surprised to see how late it was. They had travelled a good six hours at least with only a break for lunch. It was the only break he could remember at any rate.

“Good. I worried you might not sleep at all after last night,” Thor said.

“You did not sleep much yourself,” Loki said, “though it should not matter to either of us. I have heard stories of how we once went for days and days without a minute of rest.”

“The ability to do something does not mean it should be done,” Thor said. “Rest is important and you are young yet.”

“I am well aware of my age and size,” Loki huffed. “It comes up quite often in Asgardia. You need not remind me.”

Thor smiled though his eyes never left the road.

“No offence is meant, brother,” he said fondly. “Your health means much to me.”

He did not actually say that Loki’s health was largely the reason they were on this trip, but it was something that Loki felt acutely and he let the matter drop. He did not actually think that Thor minded or blamed his brother for keeping him away from his duties to the All-Mother and his hero friends, but Loki felt a bit guilty about it anyway, especially since he had his own duties to attend to. If they could be called duties.

Loki dared not tell Thor about all the things he had done since Thor had found him on the streets of Paris. Though his intentions were good, he had played many unsavoury games and earned naught but the All-Mother’s patronage for his trouble. If, by patronage, one meant blackmail.

And yet, she had let him go that he might spend time with his brother, a very rare opportunity. It would not do to ruin it by quibbling over small things. Whether he could function on little sleep or not was irrelevant; he had been tired and he had slept and now he felt better and they were in Gallup where there were no demons or insane writers or strange women and no Shadow Lands if he could help it at all.

“I am not offended,” Loki said quietly. “I am…grateful. That you chose to take me on this trip, I mean, even if I have already caused you trouble.”

Thor chuckled. “If you are referring to rogue demons, I can assure you that such things are not unusual even if the timing is remarkable. The Avengers have dealt with far worse, I have defended Asgard from far worse, and… Well, suffice to say that, though your human friend might have fared better, there are many things in the world that are far, far worse.”

Loki suspected Thor was about to say that his past self had done far worse and refrained at the last minute. He was not sure whether or not he was grateful for that. He would always be haunted, he supposed, if not by his dreams, then by the ghosts of words unsaid.

“Well, I will endeavour to make tonight as boring as possible,” Loki said, “and I will tell you immediately if I see any suspicious writing, that we might ignore it entirely.”

“That seems fair,” Thor said smiling. “Will you choose a place to stop for the night?”

Loki knew there would be a cluster of chain hotels somewhere off the main highway, but he wished to experience as much of the terrible roadside inn cliche as he possibly could and selected a small, single-story motel within walking distance of a few restaurants and a strip mall. Thor went along with it, no questions asked, and arranged for a room that turned out to be as worn out and drab as promised, but far cleaner than expected. Even the tile in the bathroom was well scrubbed, if a bit discoloured from age.

“I am almost disappointed,” Loki said, flopping down on the single king-sized bed. It was not nearly as soft as the bed in Amarillo, but it would do.

Thor laughed. “We will certainly have many terrible experiences without your seeking them out. Now, shall we walk around a while, find something to eat, or avail ourselves of the outdoor pool?”

“The pool is no doubt frightful. If my injury permits, we should try it,” Loki said. “Then we can find something to eat, unless you think it will be too late. I do not wish to shop tonight.”

“I think that will be fine,” Thor said and asked to check his wound.

It was almost completely healed. Thor helped to remove the stitches, which made Loki wince, and if he bled a little where they tore the new skin, the flow was easily stopped with gentle pressure and a large sticking plaster. Thrilled by his quick recovery, Loki thanked his brother and changed into his bathing suit.

Loki had not thought to buy a pair of swimming trunks; they had been Thor’s idea from the start. Now he was thankful for them. Although he was not an especially strong swimmer, he was able to paddle around adequately and perform a modified breast stroke for greater distance. Thor swore his old self had taken to swimming later on, when they were old enough to range far from home on hunting and fishing expeditions, and had done it very well, but present Loki had not found much use for it beyond the basics.

The basics were enough. The pool was excruciatingly clean, the weather was warm, the sun beat down, and Loki found it nice to be in the water, even if Thor slathered sunscreen all over him any time he ventured out. He eventually cheated his brother by digging up a faded black ring from a chest in the pool area and sprawled on it in the middle of the water, well out of Thor’s reach. Not, however, out of Thor’s aim and Loki almost fell through the hole in the middle when something landed on his chest, startling him. It was the hat Thor had bought him the day before.

“Wear if if you are to sit out in the sun,” Thor ordered.

Loki sighed and obliged him, dropping the hat partly on his head, but mostly over his face. If he was to wear it, it might as well be in the most useful manner. When the sun got too hot, he tossed it on the edge of the pool and dropped back into the water.

He caught sight of Ikol now and then, but the magpie did not seem interested in chatting. Thor did not join him except to sit on the edge of the pool and dangle his legs in the water. Loki teased him about it a bit and was splashed for his pains, but imagined there was simply nothing for Thor to do. The pool was much too small for swimming laps, even for someone half of Thor’s size and strength, and he couldn’t simply float as the black tube was only just big enough to support Loki’s weight. After a time, Loki felt bad about leaving his brother alone and hauled himself out of the water to sit beside him.

“Sorry. It seems this is not much fun for you,” he said.

“I enjoy simply watching you have fun,” Thor replied. “Are you?”

“It is adequate,” Loki said haughtily, causing Thor to laugh. “There is not much about which to complain.”

“Is that not a good thing?”

Loki grinned.

“Well, sometimes complaining is half the fun. Especially online. What is the use in posting that everything is fine? No one wants to know when you are having a much better time than they are. They want to know that there were bugs in your hotel bed or some such thing so that they may attempt to outshine you with replies about how the hotel they stayed in was much worse and why and so it goes until one would think think that no hotel in the world was safe and someone claims to have found a dead body in one and then someone else claims that that was stolen from the plot of last week’s television shows and then captured icons are made with bold text to deride the dead body story and it becomes a meme and finally someone merges it with the creepy picture of the girl under the bed and it is never heard from again, much like the best endings in folk tales.”

Thor laughed quietly, shoulders shaking, and then wrapped one arm around Loki and drew him in close.

“Is all of that true, brother?” he said, grinning.

“Well, there are variations,” Loki admitted, “but it is a fair representation, yes.”

“Then I am grateful I am not ‘online’ as you are. You will have to share the complaints for both of us and show me these bold icons.”

“I shall, when I have some. Although if you are interested in the girl under the bed, I am quite certain I can find her for you.”

Thor’s grin shortened to an indulgent smile. “Perhaps after we have eaten. Are you hungry?”

“Starving,” Loki said and squirmed as Thor’s grip around him tightened. “What are you doing?”

“We must go and pick up your black ring,” Thor said.

“No, Thor!” Loki squawked and only had time enough to take a quick breath before his brother dragged him off the edge of the pool and into the water. He spluttered and thrashed as Thor pulled his head back up above the surface.

“You idiot! You stupid ox!” Loki shouted, half shrill and half laughing, as he pounded on Thor’s arm and tried to wriggle out of his grip. He feared going under again as he wrestled, but his brother seemed to know just how to catch him, keeping him under control while holding his face out of the water.

“What is wrong?” Thor said, laughing. “Do you no longer like games? Do you not wish to play with me?”

“Only when I carry the advantage,” Loki said, trying to climb over Thor’s shoulder to escape him.

“Ah, the truth comes out,” Thor said, trying to pull Loki back, but Loki was smaller, lither, and far more agile as a youth than as a man and he managed to slither out of Thor’s grip. He nearly escaped to the other end of the pool, but Thor caught his ankle, fixing him in place. He was close enough to the shallow end to put the other foot on the ground and keep his head up, but his footing was not secure enough to allow him to kick himself free. Thor, for his part, did not pull Loki back lest he drag his brother under the water, nor did he move forward. He merely held Loki’s ankle, preventing his escape.

“Tho-or,” Loki whined, drawing the syllable out as far as it would go. He could only imagine the derision to which Ikol would subject him. “Please, Thor. This is embarrassing…”

“Then come back to me, brother,” Thor said.

Reluctantly, Loki made as if to relent, and then, when he had a little slack, twisted out of his brother’s grip and scrambled to the far end, laughing as Thor sought to splash him.

“You are ever quicker than I, brother,” Thor said. “At least come and put your ring away.”

Thor picked up the black tube and held it out to him, but Loki was not fooled.

“Toss it onto the pool edge,” Loki said. “I do not trust you not to drag me back in.”

“A wise decision,” Thor said and tossed the tube back up onto the edge of the pool where Loki retrieved it and returned it to the chest.

Thor ducked under the water – to cool off, Loki imagined – swam until the pool was too shallow to sustain him and then surfaced, turned, and did the same thing, returning to the deep end. Loki watched him, crouched at the edge of the pool, but well out of Thor’s reach, and felt suddenly bad for escaping so quickly. He wondered if Thor had not wanted to play a little bit longer. It was such a rare thing that he did not even think of it, but Thor had arranged this trip to give them time together and it seemed as good a way as any to spend it. Not to mention that he rather enjoyed the attention although he feared that admitting it would be the swiftest method to ensure it was taken away from him.

Fate, he felt, was not always kind.

In spite of his longing, Loki was not quite prepared to wrestle in the pool. It was not that he was a bit too old for such public foolishness, although he rather felt he was, or that wrestling with one’s brother in the water was decidedly uncool, although this, too, was so, but Thor’s strength frightened him a little. He knew that Thor cared – he had demonstrated it time and again – but Thor was also exceptionally powerful and seemed to forget sometimes that Loki was very small in comparison. He was very sturdy compared to his Midgardian counterparts, even if he was no taller, and much stronger than they, but, compared to Thor, he was nothing but a bundle of brittle bone and easily bruised flesh with neither Eir nor Idunn and her golden apples to help him should something go wrong. After a few false starts in Asgardia, Thor had learned to think twice before letting his temper get the better of him near his brother, but Loki feared his enthusiasm could be as painful.

“Are you ready, brother?” Thor said, pulling himself out of the water.

Loki retrieved his hat from where he had dropped it and settled it on his head.

“More than ready. I am starving! Let us find a good place to eat,” he said. “Or, even better, a really bad place to eat.”

“So that you might have reason to complain?” Thor ventured.

“No, so that everything will be fried and greasy and very delicious,” Loki told him.

Thor laughed and patted him on the back and Loki picked up his pace so that Thor could rest his hand on his shoulder. He sometimes feared his brother’s strength, but it was also his most reassuring trait and Thor could wield it with exquisite gentleness when he had a mind to do so. In those moments when Thor’s hand was a comforting weight and his thumb rubbed just along his most anxiety-strained muscles, Loki wanted nothing more than to crawl into his brother’s arms and just absorb his warmth and might. He resisted, of course – what a foolish image that would be out in the parking lot! – but the desire still bubbled within him.

“Have a quick shower before we go,” Thor said as they passed by the parked cars on their way to the room. He dropped his hand from Loki’s shoulder. “You have the smell of the water treatment on you.”

“Yes, Thor,” Loki replied and caught the hand up in his own. He could almost hear Ikol’s snort of disgust from where he perched on the motel roof.

He might not be prepared to crawl into his brother’s arms out on the pavement, but that did not mean he was ready to let him go.

Chapter Text

The restaurant food was acceptably fried, and greasy, and delicious and Loki spared a few moments to photograph it and most of the rest of the meal sucking barbeque sauce off his fingers. At one point it smeared his cheek and when repeated attempts to remove it with a napkin resulted in failure, he decided to ignore it until he was finished, much to Thor’s unending amusement.

“What have you done with my fastidious brother?” he said, grinning. “I fear he is buried.”

Loki snorted. “Would you like the rest? I should like to see you try to eat ribs without making a mess.”

“I might, if you are done with them.”

Loki glared across the table at his brother.

“I spoke in jest. You may not have my food unless you share yours and you have eaten it, so you cannot,” he said haughtily.

“So you are saying you are slow,” Thor said, stealing one of Loki’s remaining fries and earning a sauce-covered rap on his knuckles for his trouble.

“I am saying you are a great hog,” Loki sniffed.

“Well, I am not the one with sauce on his face,” Thor replied. “Lean forward.”

He opened a small, silver pouch as Loki cautiously obliged him and pulled out a damp napkin with which he wiped his brother’s face and then removed the smear of sauce from his hand. It was a revelation and Loki stared at him in amazement.

“Is that what those are for?” he said.

“Indeed,” Thor told him. “Have you not seen them before?”

“I have not had need, I suppose,” Loki said as he finished his last rib and bade Thor unwrap more of the clever towels. “I have eaten nothing so sticky in Broxton and Asgardia is celebrated for many things, but not her table manners.”

“Speaking of the table,” Thor said. “It pleases me to see you in good appetite. You would not eat much in the days before we left and Volstagg insists you have no patience for food on other days.”

“Compared to Volstagg, few people have patience for food,” Loki said, chewing on a french fry as he cleaned the sauce out of all the creases in his fingers. “I eat very well in Asgardia when eyes are not constantly upon me.”

“You…do not steal from the kitchens, do you?” Thor said.

“Well, I should hardly think it stealing if it was mine to begin with,” Loki huffed. “Food sent back from the tables could not possibly be stealing. And some of the cooks will give sugary things for errands. A fine trade, I believe.”

“What sort of errands?” Thor persisted.

Loki offered his most winning smile and prepared his evasive manoeuvres. “You know…errands. Fetching things that the supply masters did not order. Spices and seasonings mostly. Also personal errands, for they are often busy and cannot leave the city. Errands.”

Thor was sceptical. “You should not need to perform such services or steal food to eat when it is readily available in the dining hall. You should not need…”

He paused then, looking thoughtful, and Loki spared the restaurant a brief glance before turning back to him. It was not a busy place, not crowded like the dining hall back home, but Loki was not one to be without an escape plan and since his arrival he had mapped every available exit and calculated the likelihood of each being blocked in an emergency. Watching his brother now, Loki knew that Thor had not missed the action.

“Loki,” he said quietly, “are you afraid to eat in the dining hall?”

Loki snorted. “Afraid to let down my guard and be distracted in a place where boors become drunken boors with access to cutlery and big ideas regarding Asgard and my perceived place in it? Don’t be silly, Thor. I would simply rather eat in my room.”

Thor’s brow furrowed in concern. “And the All-Mother, she does not…?”

“Her position is a new one and precarious still,” Loki said. “She cannot really be seen to favour any faction, especially not the realm’s tarnished son.”

“Is this what you imagine?”

“It is what she told me. She is supportive in many ways, but I have been told I cannot be protected.”

Thor frowned. “But you are a child…”

Loki shrugged. “I have survived thus far. I have spent much time away with Leah and Thori. In her cave or in Broxton…away. Any place away.” He bit his lip at the look on Thor’s face. “Oh, do not look at me that way, Thor. You could have done nothing to help in that time. There is no sense in fretting over it. Here, I shall tell you that I sometimes sit near Sif, or Fandral, or Hogun and they watch out for me as they promised you, even when they do not enjoy it. I am also welcome to hide behind Volstagg – indeed, there is room enough for many to hide behind Volstagg – and he has intercepted more than one would-be complainant. So, you see, it is not all terrible although I still prefer to keep my guard up.”

“Aye,” Thor said. “Although I yet have faith that it will not always be so.”

“Your faith is stronger than mine,” Loki said. “May I have ice cream?”

Thor chuckled. “You dismiss your troubles so easily.”

“Well, I am here with you,” Loki said as the waitress arrived to clear away his plate. “There is no point in worrying about them now. And I should like some ice cream.”

“You may have all the ice cream you want,” Thor said.

“I will hold you to that,” Loki said, scanning the menu. He wanted to find something that would horrify Thor, but the best on offer was a banana split, which did look lovely. Loki decided it would do and ordered it with extra whipped cream and extra chocolate sauce, and extra everything except the banana, which was really only empty vitamins anyway.

“Will you really eat all of that?” Thor said as Loki settled in to wait for his dessert.

“Yes,” Loki told him frankly, “although you are welcome to share.”

“I might try some if you are still willing,” Thor said. “Do not make yourself ill, Loki. We must leave early tomorrow and it will be best if we sleep well.”

“Why must we leave early?” Loki said. “I thought you drove further than intended. We should be ahead of schedule.”

“Aye, but I drove further both because you were asleep and because it would bring us closer to the fair.”

“Fair?”

The word caught Loki’s interest. He had never been to a fair before although he had heard talk of them.

His interest made Thor smile.

“The radio announced it and it seemed a good opportunity. By driving a little farther I have brought us to within two hours of the fair grounds. If we leave early, we may spend the day there and arrive in Phoenix in the evening.”

“What is at the fair?” Loki said eagerly. “Are there rides? I have not been on any rides, but I have heard of them and should like to try them.”

“I know not what sort of sights are at this fair,” Thor told him. “I have not been. However, the radio suggested that there were rides, and music, and performances, and demonstrations, and all the terrible food you could care to eat.”

“Deep fried Oreos?”

“Perhaps. I know not what they are,” Thor said.

“I have only seen pictures,” Loki admitted, “but they look very good.”

“I will trust your judgment,” Thor said. “I hope you are looking forward to things other than food.”

The waitress, prompted by the gods of good timing, chose that moment to deliver Loki’s dessert, a cream-covered confection that made Thor roll his eyes. He took the opportunity to ask for the cheque as Loki assaulted a cherry and offered an impish grin.

“Oh, I am certain there will be much to see and do that is not food related,” he said, “but food is such a lovely, cultural thing. Everyone does it differently and certain foods are for certain situations and are never seen otherwise. Having them is a sort of insight into Midgardian customs. Do you not think so?”

“I think it is an excellent excuse that you have invented to eat more confections than are good for you,” Thor said, amused.

“Is it not?” Loki said. He was quite pleased with it. “I thought on it a good long time. A good excuse, but also true. You may have some, you know,” he added, nudging the bowl in Thor’s direction.

Thor smiled. “For your sake, I will try this customary Midgardian dish.”

“Not for my sake,” Loki told him. “Do it because it tastes very good, even if part of it is fruit.”

Thor shook his head in indulgent amusement and Loki smiled inwardly, satisfied. His brother seemed to have forgotten all about his trials in Asgardia, which was for the best, really. Barring physical defense, there was very little Thor could do about it. If someone wished to bother him, they would do so. If Thor was present, they would so do when he was not looking. There was no point in Thor being upset about it.

“It is a bit of a pity that we will not be here longer,” Loki said in conversation as they shared out the ice cream. “While you were in the shower, I sought out information on Gallup with the searching tool of Google and it is very interesting for a small place. At least, it is very interesting to those who are fond of superstitions and strange events.”

“If that is the case, we may yet remain here if that is what you prefer,” Thor said.

“No, no… I would much rather go to the fair,” Loki grinned. “I would hazard to say that Asgardia sees more than enough strange events, the strangest by far being granted time to spend with you. However, it is still a curious thing to read about.”

“Curious in what way?” Thor prompted.

“Oh, well… You remember in Amarillo when we went shopping in the old Route 66 historical district?” Loki said. When Thor nodded, he took a bite of ice cream and continued. “That route follows its winding way all the way out here where it branches out and one part goes West and one part goes North. It has different names now, but the North one, that is highway 491, used to be the sixth branch of Route 66, making it Route 666, a number many mortals associate with the very devil. It is said that many accidents and scary events happen along it – ghosts and demon dogs and bolts of light and missing time and such – although I do not know if it is really a supernatural effect or a psychological one because of the number.”

“It is curious indeed,” Thor said, amused. “Are you expecting us to be ambushed on our way into Phoenix?”

Loki snorted. “Of course not. Were you not listening? It is only the North branch that is dangerous. Supposedly. We will be heading West and driving in daylight no less. Naturally, all the best supernatural events happen at night. But,” he said with added emphasis, “Gallup is where the road starts and so it is a doorway of sorts and some travellers have shared stories of strange encounters while walking around town at night or of people banging on the doors of the places they are staying and peering in the windows. Sometimes they hear the voices of family members who have died or are very far away calling for them to come out. It is rarer than the events of the highway, but still notable.”

He squirmed uncomfortably when he noticed that Thor had stopped sharing in his dessert and was watching him fondly. His intensity was overwhelming.

“I suppose it is all very silly compared to the things you have seen and done,” Loki said, toying with his spoon.

“I cannot say so until I’ve experienced such strange things for myself,” Thor said, “but do not stop on my account. I enjoy listening to your stories.”

“You tease,” Loki said, taking another bite of ice cream.

“Not at all. You are very expressive,” Thor told him. “Tell me more of the strange things you have read.”

Loki obliged him with tales of faceless hitchhikers and devil dogs until the ice cream was gone and the bill was paid. The short walk back to the motel was filled with happier conversations about the fair and what events were most important and should be attended first. Without a definite schedule, it was mostly conjecture, but Loki was adamant about trying as many rides as possible and witnessing any rodeo-style activities that might be present.

Part of him was aware that he sounded like an overzealous child and felt he should be ashamed – was this the god who had manipulated Surtur and conducted winding deals with Mephisto to have Hela’s curse lifted and free the Disir? – but the rest of him remembered that he, in fact, was a child, with no expectations to be anything but, and opted to please itself, leaving rodeos on the to-do list and making a grail of cookies fried in dough.

Chapter Text

The sun was already setting when they reached their room and, as it was too early to turn in, but too late to go out, Thor proposed getting some laundry done.

“There are machines in a small room beside the office,” Thor explained. “If you change into your nightshirt, I will have all your clothing washed at once. It might be prudent to purchase a few more shirts for you, if the opportunity presents itself. You are hard on clothing.”

“I did not expect to be attacked by a demon creature,” Loki replied, pulling the T-shirt over his head and slipping on his nightshirt. The jeans he slid off from underneath.

“True, but best prepared in case there is another,” Thor said and smiled, an obvious jest. He gathered up all of Loki’s soiled clothing as well as his own and put it in a bag. “Perhaps we can find something worth viewing when I return.”

“All right,” Loki said. “But I will do my writing first.”

Thor did not need to ask what writing Loki wished to do. He simply nodded and left. Loki pulled out his journal and fountain pen and began to write.

He was still writing when Thor returned and told him it would be approximately half an hour before the washer was finished. Loki only nodded and Thor said nothing as he sat on the bed and scrolled through the available channels. Nor did he ask Loki the subject of his writing when he finally put the journal aside and flopped down beside his brother.

“What are you watching?” Loki said.

“The Midgardian sport of football,” Thor told him. “I care not for the presentation and am not yet certain of the correlation between teams and cities, but the game is often interesting. Would you like to watch something else?”

“No, this is fine,” Loki said. “It is not my usual fare, but if you enjoy it, I should like to see it.”

“Tell me if it bores you. The channel can be changed.”

“Yes, Thor.”

Loki was not fond of sporting programs, partly due to the commercial and commentary interrupted format used on television, but mostly because he was not athletically inclined himself. In spite of this, he did not want to impose his preferences on Thor every night. Although he was eager to share his love of Midgardian fiction, folktales, and food with his brother, he did not want Thor to tire of him and genuinely wanted to partake of Thor’s interests as well. The difficulty with Thor’s tastes was that he was disinclined to talk about them. Loki was happy to natter on and Thor seemed happy to listen to him, but though Loki would be pleased to do the same, his brother never seemed to have thoughts to share. Thor enjoyed his interests quietly and Loki, in his inexperience, did not even know what questions he could ask that would prompt a response.

With this in mind, he carefully watched the game, picking up details as he went along, until Thor stood up and stretched. Loki looked up at him curiously.

“I am going to check on our clothing,” Thor said. “It should be washed and I must set it to dry.”

“Do you need my help?”

Thor smiled. “No, it is not difficult. I will be back shortly.”

“All right,” Loki said as Thor left the room.

It was not long afterward that he heard the distinct ruffling and flopping of feathered wings.

“This place looks clean, but there is dust under the beds,” Ikol griped, hopping up onto the covers and preening.

“I wondered where you had gone,” Loki said. “I did not see you anywhere on the way back from dinner.”

“I snuck in behind Thor when he went to do laundry,” Ikol said. “You had your nose in your book, writing your silly letters.”

“They are not silly!” Loki protested. “I like talking to Leah, even if she does not always like to listen. Or pretends she does not.”

Ikol snorted, in as much as a bird could snort, and hopped up onto Loki’s leg.

“Listen to yourself,” he said, “talking about her as though she were still here. You will become mired in sentiment, although I suppose it is harder to let go of someone who did not actually die, even if that means they did not actually live. I admit you seem calmer today than you were.”

“If you are going to be insulting, go away,” Loki said. “If I feel a burning need for your advice, I will ask for it.”

“Yet you feel a burning need for gladiatorial combat.”

“It is but silly sport, Ikol,” Loki said, exasperated. “Thor seems to like it, or at least the gaming aspects of it, and I would like something to share with him.”

“Oh, Loki,” Ikol muttered, radiating infinite disappointment. “Do you plan to fill your head with such useless pastimes this trip?”

“If that is what is offered, yes,” Loki replied. “I also have books to read, but Thor only bought them for me yesterday and I am tired tonight. I will watch television and go to sleep and wake up early and go to the fair and possibly see cowboys and go on rides and eat all the strange foods mortals post pictures of online and I will not hardly scheme at all for Asgardia is not in any danger and there is no great threat to face and you will be quiet and not ruin this for me, you who claimed it was all your idea in the first place.”

Ikol picked at some blanket fluff, either disregarding Loki’s words or gathering his thoughts. Loki counted it as a win and turned back to the television, but the game was soured for him now. Although he tried to follow, Ikol’s mocking voice continued to whisper in the back of his thoughts.

“You are right. Somewhat,” Ikol said at last and fluttered up to rest on Loki’s shoulder. “You are meant to relax a little and ease your sadness that your thoughts may flow more freely and you do not feel the need to hide away. To hound you is counterproductive, but know I do not approve.”

“You need not approve,” Loki said, offering a grudging forgiveness. “You need only be quiet.” Eventually he lifted his hand to stroke Ikol’s feathers. “You are still my terrible counsel and only constant companion, but you are my pet and I need not bend before you. This you must understand.”

“Of course,” Ikol said.

“I wonder,” Loki replied and left it at that.

He watched the game a little longer, absentmindedly stroking Ikol’s feathers, until he realized that nearly half an hour had passed and Thor had not returned.

“How long do you suppose it takes to do laundry?” Loki said, eying the door.

“I certainly cannot tell you,” Ikol replied. “Your older self had magic and servants for such things.”

Thor’s absence made Loki nervous. He felt somewhat foolish for this feeling – Thor had not been gone so long, after all – but no matter how much he told himself nothing was wrong, he was still restive. He fidgeted with the remote control and finally turned the television off. He sat very still, listening intently, and jumped when Ikol spoke again.

“Don’t fret so,” the magpie said. “Thor is fine. He has no doubt been distracted by another guest or perhaps by someone in the office. The machines are located right next door to it, after all.”

“Yes,” Loki said. “It must be so.”

In spite of these assurances, Loki did not turn the television back on. In fact, he reached over and turned off the bedside lamp so that he might better see outside and into the night. The curtains were mostly drawn, but a thin band of darkness split the fabric down the middle. Light from the street lamps cast an eerie glow over the parking lot and Loki had the distinct impression that he was being watched, although he could see nothing outside the window, no sign of movement or lurking shadows.

He mentally chastised himself for these thoughts and for believing in his own stories. He rolled his eyes at himself and subjected himself to any number of internal self-deprecations. It was one thing to share online foolishness with his brother and something else entirely to fall for it himself. Foolishness and folktales were not things to cause concern, merely interesting tidbits of information to make their journey more interesting.

Except, of course, that Asgardia and all her inhabitants were story and the subjects of story, including both Thor and himself. It was not so strange to suppose that other stories were at least partly real and, really, if a fanfic writer could call up a demon, how much more unusual was it for demon dogs and faceless ghosts to be wandering the town?

Just as he was screwing up his courage to get off the bed and check outside, someone pounded on the door. Loki jumped and even Ikol fluttered off in a panic, but the sound did not come again.

“Perhaps they have the wrong room?” Loki whispered as Ikol strutted around on the bedspread.

His luck was not to be. No sooner had the comment passed his lips than the pounding resumed and a voice called from the other side.

“Brother? Let me in! I have forgotten my key.”

“Oh, it is Thor,” Loki said, but made no move to get off the bed.

His mind insisted that he should let his brother in, but instinct froze him where he sat. There was something wrong about the voice, something he could not put his finger on.

“Did Thor not have the key in his pocket when he left?” Ikol said.

Loki thought back, but could not be sure. He did not notice it when Thor left during the sporting event and he was not watching when Thor returned the first time, so he did not know where his brother had put it. However, he had kept it in his pocket at the poolside and on his way to the restaurant and Loki did not think he would change things now. Besides, there was no key on any of the flat surfaces barring the one meant for himself and it was still in the envelope provided by the clerk.

“Brother? Why are the lights off? Why will you not let me in?’

“It certainly sounds like Thor,” Loki whispered in spite of his uncertainty.

“Do you think so?” Ikol said.

“No, not really.”

“Me neither, although the similarity is remarkable,” Ikol said. “What will you do?”

“Hide,” Loki said and slipped off the far side of the bed.

It was not an ideal hiding spot – certainly it would not stop anyone in the room from finding him – but he would not be seen from the window and that was all that mattered.

The pounding came again along with further demands that the door be opened, but there was an edge of anger to the voice now that made it sound even less like Thor and more like a wild animal pretending to be a man. One burst of heavy knocking ended with a long, fading scratch along the door’s surface, followed by a scraping and tapping on the window.

Flat on his belly behind the bed, Loki knew he could not be seen. Unfortunately, he also had no way of telling what it was that was trying to get in and, thus, how to fight it, but the screeching, dragging noise that made him think of nails on a chalk board or, more likely, claws against glass made him wonder if his blindness was not all to the good.

“I did not mean for the stories to be true,” he murmured to Ikol, who nestled in the crook of his neck.

Ikol said nothing to this and they huddled on the floor doing their best to ignore the sporadic pounding and scraping on the door and window as well as the insidious whispers that slipped through them.

Eventually the noises faded away and Loki wondered whether he should quit his hiding spot, though he still felt he were being watched. He decided to lie still a few moments more and his fears were confirmed when a low voice murmured through the crack in the door, seeming to fill the room, “Little magic boy, I have the thunder god. Your life for his.”

And then it was gone.

Truly gone, Loki noted. The air in the room felt fresher and the oppressive feeling of observation had also vanished. Still, he did not feel quite ready to face whatever was outside and, although he sat up to stretch a little, he remained behind the bed, Ikol nested in his lap.

“Well,” Loki said quietly. “I do not think that was a dream. Do you suppose it was lying?”

“About having Thor or about trading you for him?” Ikol said.

“About having Thor,” Loki said. “I presume it lied about letting him go, unless there was no other way. Although I am surprised it would suggest I am worth more than he. Do you suppose it is mere flattery to convince me to leave the room?”

“Probably,” Ikol said and Loki cast him a dire look. “It could as easily be a matter of quality over quantity. Thor has much power, but it is not your typical magical power. What you have is much more – traditional, shall we say – even if you do not have a lot of it.”

“It sounded very strong,” Loki said. “Why do you suppose it did not simply break the door down?”

Ikol stretched and fluttered his wings and then settled again when Loki stroked his head and back.

“Magic has rules and magic users have rules, as do magical creatures. Doorways are often sacred spaces. That is why some creatures require invitations to enter…or that you step out. I imagine, if you remain inside the room until morning, you will be safe.”

“But what of Thor?”

“Thor is strong and can take care of himself,” Ikol said, “as you ought to take care of yourself. You will be no good to anyone if you are dead.”

“But…”

“Do you honestly think Thor would want you to put yourself at risk?” Ikol said. “If you went out there and both of you survived, he would take you to task for even trying. Besides, with Mjölnir, he is nigh invincible. Trust me, I know.”

Loki worried his lip and glanced around the room. The padded black case, meant to look like a small duffel bag and house Thor’s magic hammer, was in the corner. It rocked ominously as though it wished to leave, but was not sure how to go about it.

“Ikol,” Loki murmured. “Thor went to do laundry. He did not take Mjölnir.”

“Ah,” Ikol said. “Well then, to be perfectly colloquial about it, Thor is probably screwed.”

Chapter Text

“You are the poster child for madness. You know that, right?”

“Silence, Ikol! You are jealous of my brilliance.”

“No, I fear your insanity. When I say you are crazy, I do not mean like a fox.”

Loki slunk around the room, avoiding the window as much as possible. He was not entirely certain that the creature had gone and did not want to risk coming face to face with it. Even though it was likely that Ikol was right and the thing could not enter the motel room of its own accord, Loki feared a glimpse of the thing would shatter his resolve.

Thor was out there, somewhere. It was up to Loki to find him, but he specialized in misdirection and trickery; the thought of coming at the creature directly terrified him, especially when he had no idea what he was up against.

Although he did not doubt that Thor could punch his way through anything purely physical, with or without Mjölnir, there was no way of knowing if what had attacked him actually was physical or whether it was a creature of magic or the mind. For that matter, there was no telling whether Thor had been attacked at all or whether the creature had been lying about the whole affair although Mjölnir’s curious reaction certainly suggested that Thor was trying to call it. Why it did not simply rip through the door and find him was the great mystery.

“It will work, Ikol, it must,” Loki said, huddling in the corner and unzipping the bag. “I know that Thor has carried Mjölnir into different realms and across planes, but what if it cannot travel that way on its own? It would stand to reason that it has no inherent power, only that which is activated by Thor, and so it would not be able to open a doorway or portal. Perhaps it could fly through if the portal were open all the time, but if it must be opened physically, then the hammer would be at a loss regardless of whether or not it was called.”

“And you propose to carry it?” Ikol said sourly.

“I propose to let it carry me.”

Loki peeled back the sides of the duffel, revealing Thor’s hammer, but could not lift it to pull the rest of the bag away. He hoped simply liberating it would be enough. The hammer rocked in place, shifting slightly as it sought the direction in which is should fly, but did not leave the floor. Either Thor could not be found or Thor could not be reached. Loki was banking on the latter.

“How will that make any sort of difference?” Ikol said. “And put some trousers on if you plan to go out. You look ridiculous.”

“Hush, Ikol. My Asgardian clothing and jeans are all in the laundry. I should not think the creature will let me stop in to see if they are dry. What a pretty picture it would make if I were to ask: ‘Oh, excuse me, Mr. Fake Voice, sir, but can you refrain from killing and eating me until I’ve put some pants on?’ Rubbish.” Loki looked thoughtful for a moment. “Although, now that you mention it, I might have a pair of shorts. I should, at the very least, wear some shoes.”

He crept around on the floor, keeping to the shadows, until he located the bags. He scrounged through them, pulling out what he could, and dressed quickly. He had avoided the shorts because they were a bit big – Thor was convinced he would either fill out or grow into them – but they were good enough for the task at hand, even if they slipped a little and showed the waistband of his underwear. Shoes and socks were easy enough, but he was out of shirts. Leaving his chest bare made him nervous and was testing fate in any event, so he left his nightshirt on even though its size made him look like a gangling child.

He tried to ignore the voice that told him he was a gangling child. It was the same voice that told him the entire venture was foolish and he should try to contact someone again. Stark, perhaps, although he would not be happy about being called out a second time. To humour it, he tried the phone lines, but received only dead air for his troubles.

Gangling child or not, he was on his own.

“Are you sure this will work?” Ikol said as Loki wound the strap of Mjölnir’s handle around his wrist.

“No,” Loki said frankly, “but if they are as keen on getting their hands on me as they seemed, they will take me to where Thor is. And I know that Thor is somewhere because he is trying to call his hammer. If I am with Mjölnir, it is only reasonable to assume that we will both go to where the creature wishes me to be.”

“I hope, for all our sakes, that where it wants you to be is where Thor is. Otherwise you will be trapped with a weapon you cannot use and cannot return,” Ikol said.

“I am trying not to think about such things,” Loki said. “You are not at all a comforting bird. Are you ready?”

Ikol fluttered about a bit and then came to rest on Loki’s shoulder, diggings his talons into the folds of his nightshirt. Loki tested the strength of the strap, grabbed Mjölnir’s handle as tightly as he could manage, and then stretched with all his might until he could reach the handle of the motel room door. Uttering a silent prayer to the All-Mother that the creature would not be standing just outside the room, he turned the knob, threw the door open, and then shrank back near the hammer in a crouch, gripping the handle with both hands.

Nothing happened.

Loki had not realized he was holding his breath until he inhaled with a shuddering gasp. The open door made him nervous. The still darkness outside made him nervous. The almost total lack of sound made him nervous. Surely, even in this quiet part of Midgard, a city the size of Gallup would have some night traffic. Even Broxton had night traffic.

“Perhaps I must call it?” Loki ventured.

“Perhaps you were wrong,” Ikol said. “If you were wrong and you call it, you will no longer have a place to hide.”

“Oh? Then, what do you suggest?”

Ikol huddled, warm and fluttery, in the crook of Loki’s neck. “If it were up to me, I would send you for information: to the library to see what creature this might be, to the All-Mother who might have heard of such things, perhaps even to Volstagg who might tell you a tale of truth couched in a lie.”

“Well none of them are here,” Loki said, “and I cannot access the Internet, so I may not even ask online. It seems we are on our own.”

In spite of this knowledge, Ikol’s concern gave him pause. Although he could not be sure he would have the opportunity to return, destroying his one safe haven was perhaps not the best way to approach this problem. If the doorway was the barrier – a sort of sacred space that, by magical convention, prevented the creature from coming in – then inviting it to come after him would certainly eliminate this protection. So, too, would stepping outside of it although, in this case, he would have the option of scrambling back over the border and shutting the thing out once again.

Loki cautiously released his hold on Mjölnir and unwound the strap from his wrist, wrapping it in his fist instead.

“What are you doing?” Ikol said, shifting nervously from foot to foot.

“Breaking the barrier without calling the thing inside,” Loki told him, stretching out across the floor.

“But you could barely reach the knob.”

“This was true when I was holding the handle and reaching with my hand,” Loki said. “Now I am only holding the strap and may use my feet to step outside. Once I touch the pavement, they may take me wherever they wish me to go.”

“I do not approve of this.”

“You need not approve!” Loki snapped and then bit his lip before his fears could overwhelm him. He was no happier about it than Ikol was, but could see no other solution. He was not about to sit alone in the room, wondering what had happened to Thor, and waiting for the creature to return.

Taking a deep breath, he inched his foot over the threshold.

The effect was immediate. Mjölnir came alive in his hand and flew past him, nearly yanking his arm from his socket as it whipped him around and dragged him out the door. Only pure luck ensured that he was still holding the strap when he was swept away. Ikol squawked and clung more tightly, his talons digging into Loki’s shoulder. The darkness outside coalesced and Loki heard a harsh snarl as he flew out the door and past an enormous, looming form that tried to grab his leg as Mjölnir lifted him off the ground. It failed, but Loki felt its claws skate along his skin.

It was the worst pain he could imagine and he screamed as fresh scratches bloomed there.

With great effort, he managed to reach up with his free hand and get a better hold on Mjölnir’s strap as he arced over the highway and the buildings on the other side, and then he had to close his eyes because he felt ill from the height and the speed.

He did not open them again until he felt Mjölnir descending – too rapidly for his taste – and saw the ground coming up to meet him. He tried and failed to twist himself into a position to land. Mjölnir buried itself in the ground and sent him flying head over heels into the dirt, his hands wrenched from the strap so sharply that he momentarily feared his wrists were broken.

Loki lay on the ground for what seemed an eternity, but was probably only a minute or two at most, breathing in short, terrified gasps and cradling his smarting wrists against his chest. He could also feel blood on his leg from the gouges left by the creature’s attack although they did not feel deep and there was no sensation of pulling flesh. The night was dark, darker than he had ever known the mortal realms to be, and when he looked around, he could see no sign of city lights.

“How far?” he whispered to himself. “How far have I come? Ikol?”

Though he spoke in hushed tones, if the bird was anywhere near him, he should have heard. Yet Loki received no response.

Fearing to speak too loudly lest he be heard by something other than a bird, Loki pulled himself to his knees and patted the ground, feeling for signs of his landing while he waited for his night vision to improve. Scuff marks told him the general direction from which he had come and he followed them back and back and back to the point where he thought he should find Mjölnir, but the hammer was nowhere in reach. By this time the night had resolved itself into layered shadows beneath the stars and faint moonlight, but he saw no further evidence of Thor’s weapon or his bird.

“Ikol?” he tried again, somewhat louder than before, and then froze, hunched up close to the ground, waiting for any sort of response.

None came.

“It seems I am on my own,” he murmured. He knew he should be as quiet as possible, but the sound of his own voice was reassuring. Unknowingly, he began to hum to himself, a sound so low as to be nearly inaudible and heard mostly through its internal vibrations. It helped to calm and sharpen his thoughts as he wondered what he should do next.

Logically, Thor should be here. Mjölnir had been called and he had been towed along with it and the only person who could call it was Thor, so it was only reasonable to assume that Thor should be nearby. And yet, Mjölnir had not found Thor. It had, in fact, hit the ground and sent him sprawling at which point he had lost sight of it, Ikol, and the whole of Gallup.

Could it be that there was a portal of sorts? Some sort of transition to a different plane that had not occurred until he had released the hammer?

Loki supposed it was possible. If Thor was here, but in a plane Mjölnir could not reach, it might bury itself in the ground at the place equivalent to where he stood. Even so, Loki had seen neither hide nor hair of his brother and did not think he had been thrown so far.

As he reasoned this out, Loki became aware of a flopping and fluttering out in the darkness and the harsh cry of a bird in distress. He inhaled sharply and scrambled toward it, finding it only by shades of dark on dark.

“Ikol, is that you?” he whispered, reaching out to feel the bird’s feathers and smooth them back.

He sighed in relief. Even without a reply he would know the feel of those feathers anywhere, the contours of Ikol’s body, and the rapid quiver of his heartbeat.

“Who else would it be?” Ikol huffed, a voice on the edge of pain.

Loki knew how he felt. Cross-legged on the ground, he gathered the bird into his lap and stroked him into a state of calm, smoothing ruffled feathers and gently probing for injuries.

“You never know,” Loki murmured. “That thing tried to imitate Thor’s voice. It might have tried to imitate yours. Fortunately for me, I know you far too well, evil me. You are the stuff of my nightmares.”

“Flattery will get you a beak in the eye,” Ikol muttered, but allowed Loki to comfort him all the same.

“You are not hurt?”

“Fortunately, no. And you? Are you well?”

“I have strained my wrists, but they will mend,” Loki said. “I believe that creature scratched me too.” He felt along his leg to where the thin lines were already scabbing over. “However, it is not serious and is already healing.”

“That is some good news.”

“I seem to have lost Mjölnir though.”

Ikol fluttered around in Loki’s lap. “That is less good.”

“Yes,” Loki agreed, scooping the bird up. “Especially with no Thor to show for it.”

“Well, that might be taking it a bit far,” Ikol said, “but being unable to find it does suggest that something unusual has happened. Now, stop hugging me; I have fragile bird bones, you know.”

Loki, cradling Ikol against his chest, released him and allowed him to hop up onto his shoulder.

“Well, we have certainly been brought away,” he said, “but I see no sign of Thor as I had hoped. What do you suggest we do now?”

“Damned if I know,” Ikol said. “We might yet find Thor if we look around although we might also find the creature that came after you.”

Then I am out of options Ikol,” Loki said, and then he frowned. “Unless…”

He sat very still, tried to ignore the stinging in his leg and the throbbing of his wrist, closed his eyes, and took deep and even breaths. He wanted this to be easier than it had been with Sue. Perhaps, then, it would not hurt so much.

“What are you doing?” Ikol prompted, shifting nervously.

Loki shushed him. “I am trying a spell. I have studied two: one for reducing pain and one for producing a shield, but we must be very quiet. The shield will give us some protection from sight, smell, and sound, but only if we make an effort to be stealthy. Noises that are too loud, movements that are too sudden…these can break it.”

“I thought magic was painful to you and so you would not use it,” Ikol murmured.

“Yes, it is very painful and very tiring, but perhaps it will not be so bad if we are quiet and calm. Last night was rather stressful. Besides, what choice have we?”

“The choice of going without, I suppose,” Ikol admitted and quieted down.

“I would rather try and make the effort,” Loki said. “We will need to speak as little as possible once it is cast.”

He stilled his mind. The spell was easier, in some ways, now that he was not under pressure to work quickly. It did not take as many tries to succeed, for one thing. He knew what he had to do and could go about it calmly, which helped a lot. But the effort still hurt. He still depended on the All-Mother’s runes for power. They still burned when they were activated and he still felt the power being sucked out of his every cell.

When the shield was in place, he bowed his head, breathing heavily, and bit his lip to contain a whimper. He was acutely aware of how badly he wanted Thor right now. How badly he wanted his brother to come and fix things so he would not have to. It was a weak and cowardly thought. Had he not faced worse to save all of the Nine Realms from the Serpent (and allow his brother to die)? Had he not fashioned a weapon of his own fears to keep the Fear Lords occupied (until someone found a way to take control of it forever)? Had he not freed the Disir (after being the one to take advantage of their curse in the first place)? Had he not saved Otherworld from civil war (by ousting Asgard’s allies and aiding in a coup)?

Thor, Loki thought, would have accomplished all of those things without the bad side. And even with the bad side, Loki’s accomplishments were aided by luck, Asgardia’s resources, and a number of accomplices he might hesitantly call friends. Here he was well and truly on his own: there were no libraries, no secret inter-realm passages of which he was aware, no Daimon Hellstrom to pester for assistance, and no Leah.

At this last thought, Loki scrunched his eyes shut and tried to ignore Ikol nudging him and nipping at his hair. If nothing else, he always walked with a shadow of his former self.

It was not as comforting a thought as he had hoped it would be.

After a few moments of quiet grief, Loki climbed unsteadily to his feet. He felt a bit dizzy and out of sorts from the casting, but, as he had to move quietly and cautiously in any event, he did not think this would interfere with his efforts. He gave Ikol an awkward little pat and then set out to explore.

He proceeded logically, searching the area for any sign of Mjölnir and radiating outward. He could not see the hammer any more than he could see the city, but he thought he found the point where he had landed and tumbled along the ground. In the distance, he heard the washed out sound of night traffic. This raised several questions that he did not immediately address. He had greater things to worry about at the moment.

As he began to range farther outward, he heard a voice call his name.

“Thor,” he murmured and felt excitement rising within him.

But instead of running to his brother, he crouched down and crept along close to the ground, mindful of the thing outside the motel room. It, too, had sounded like Thor and might have succeeded in tricking him if he had not questioned his brother’s possession of the key.

“LOKI!” Thor bellowed. The sound was coming closer. “Loki, I heard you cry out. Are you hurt? If you are here, brother, answer me!”

“Did I cry out?” Loki whispered to Ikol.

“When we landed? Definitely possible,” Ikol murmured near his ear. “I was too wrapped up in the crash to notice.”

Loki was too. He did not doubt he made some sound, hitting the ground as hard as he had, but whether it was a cry or whether it was a grunt caused by the wind being knocked out of him, that he could not say.

In the end, it was not enough to make him break cover. Concern over his well-being, well… That was to be assumed of brothers, was it not? It was certainly something he would exploit if he wanted to hunt down a frightened child. What did nearly convince him was the figure that stumbled from the shifting shadows of the long grasses and fell to its knees. Darkness layered upon darkness, Loki thought it looked rather like Thor, but the moon was not at its fullest and the meagre light it gave was not enough to show detail.

It was the sob that finally broke him.

“Please, brother,” Thor begged. “If you are here, call out. If you are injured and cannot, make some sign. I cannot bear the thought of you here alone.”

“Idiot,” Ikol muttered, but Loki’s heart trembled with joy. His brother was the only person in the Nine Realms whose love he trusted. Even when he lost his patience, even when seized with anger over his former self’s tricks, Thor was the only one he truly believed would not kill him. Even if, one day, he was forced to tell Thor the truth of everything that had transpired since Thor had called him back, Loki felt Thor would understand. Eventually. Thor was great and golden and good and all of this was tied up in his soulful pleading.

Loki hurriedly wiped his eyes, stood up…

And his blood turned to ice water as, from behind him, the same pleading voice called, “Loki! Brother! Are you here?”

A quick glance over his shoulder revealed a second figure, also of Thor’s size and shape, ill-defined in the weak light. It was brushing at the grass, searching for him, begging for him to step forward. Loki’s overwhelming love became shuddering fear and he crouched down again, folding in on himself.

“Well,” Ikol said sourly. “This is an interesting development.”

Chapter Text

“You!” the first Thor said.

“You!” the second repeated.

“What have you done with my brother?”

“Where is my brother?”

It was an act for his benefit, of this Loki was certain. The creature could obviously imitate form as well as sound – how precisely meant little with how difficult it was to see – and wanted him for reasons Loki could not fathom. Perhaps Ikol was right and something about his ability to use magic, poor as it was, made him desirable. The creature would not attack him so long as Thor was present for Thor would certainly interfere and Loki had no doubts that his brother was the stronger, even without Mjölnir, but it must have some way to fight Thor if necessary or it would not have made the attempt at all. Knowing that Loki was nearby made mimicry its greatest defense: either it would convince Loki to come out on his own or, in the case of encountering the actual Thor, it would cast some doubt on which of them was the true thunder god. If it somehow managed to wound or kill its opponent, it would have leverage with which to convince Loki that it was truly his brother.

For his part, Loki was fairly certain that the first figure was Thor. The heartfelt concern – emotional, but understated – was so purely his brother that Loki felt it could not have been faked. Imitated, yes, once it had been heard, but not cut from whole cloth. It was the voice of someone for whom family meant all.

And yet, there was doubt and Loki remained where he was. He did not know the situation, did not know the extent of the creature’s power. The first Thor could speak true, yet be a false figure himself: a projection or a spiritual echo. The creature could be imitating an earlier performance. There could even be two creatures putting on a performance to draw him out, making any choice the wrong choice.

Loki did not feel this was so, but it was a possibility that he could not simply dismiss out of hand. He felt sick with the thought, sick for doubting, but tricks were his stock in trade and he could not discount them.

The fact that he was not noticed when he stood up told Loki that his shield was working. As long as he made no aggressively obvious actions or spoke too loudly, he would be safe and able to watch the confrontation. With luck, he would find out for certain which one was Thor and find a way to assist him.

“What are you, deceitful wretch?” the first Thor shouted. “What do you want with my brother? I know you left to draw him out. If you have harmed him…”

“It is you who lies,” spat the second Thor. “You have spied on us, watched us together. You know I would never forgive any who harmed him. Come forth and face me, coward!”

It was the one comment most likely to get Thor’s blood boiling and the first Thor certainly appeared goaded. He rose to his feet, fists clenched, and was prepared to rush his doppelgänger, but he held himself back.

“No,” he said. “You wish to distract me from my task. I will not allow it. But when Loki is safe, rest assured I will see to it that you are punished for what you have done.”

“I will see to it now for surely you have hidden him away and are keeping him from me,” the second Thor returned and rushed the first. Loki winced at the clash and ran forward a few steps to see the outcome. He worried about Thor, but knew this fight was far beyond his physical abilities. In the confusion, one of the Thors drew a knife and Loki knew instinctively that this was not his brother. Thor did not favour knives and, furthermore, would not need one. It was a weapon for the creature who could wear his form, but not match his strength.

Still, the existence of the knife was curious. If Mjölnir could not be carried here, why a knife?

It was a question for after the impostor was disarmed. Stealthily as he could, Loki scrabbled on the ground for a large rock or other weapon with which to brain the copycat creature. He found one of moderate size and stood just in time to witness Thor jump back as the creature slashed at him, grazing him with the very tip of the knife.

The wound was not deep, could not be deep, but Thor screamed all the same, a great roar of anger and pain that caused Loki to wince and shrink back. Surely something so small could not harm someone as powerful as his brother.

“Ah,” Ikol murmured. “A spirit knife. That explains much.”

Loki had no time to ask for explanations. As the fake Thor raised its weapon, prepared to thrust and gouge, he threw his rock and managed to hit the creature on the shoulder or the side of the head – it was difficult to tell which in the dark. It did not do much damage, but it was distracting enough to give Thor a chance to tackle his double and bear him to the ground, knocking the knife from his hand. Loki lunged for the spot it landed, combing the grass with his fingers, and succeeded in snatching it up though he nicked his thumb on the blade.

The pain was overwhelming.

He wailed involuntarily as a molten fire filled his veins and seared his mind. It lasted only a second, but that second was enough to tear him apart and shatter his shield. He stood panting as the two Thors froze in the midst of their grappling and looked up at him.

“Loki!” they both shouted, almost simultaneously. They scrambled to their feet, pushing each other aside as they did so, and came toward him. Distracted by the burning pain, Loki had lost track of which was which and acted in the only way he could.

He raised the knife and held it firmly in both hands, a barrier between he and they.

“Stop! No closer!” he shouted.

“Watch where you point that,” Ikol told him, hopping about anxiously. “You are holding a spirit knife. That in itself is not so rare, but the way this creature uses it is.”

“Explain,” Loki said.

He imagined Ikol was difficult to see in the dark and could not be heard at the distance of the two Thors because they both appeared to think he had addressed them.

“I went to check the laundry and was attacked by this…this creature,” said the Thor on Loki’s right.

“It tells the truth, but it was I, not it, who went to check the laundry,” said the Thor on Loki’s left.

“A spirit knife drains energy from the spirit or soul,” Ikol said in reply to Loki’s question. “Magicians will sometimes use it to gather a little bit of energy from themselves or a *ahem* volunteer in order to cast spells. However, it appears that this creature uses it for a different purpose. For it to cause such pain, it must harm the spirit directly, which means that we are no longer on a physical plane.”

“I… I don’t…” Loki began.

“It would explain why we have lost sight of both Mjölnir and the whole of Gallup,” Ikol said. “They are in the physical realm, but we are acting on a purely spiritual or psychic level. Our bodies are still out there, of course, but what they sense, we experience only faintly. A severe enough injury from that knife will absorb your entire spirit and all its energy and your body will be found dead, probably of apparent heart failure. Alternatively, if something kills your body, your spirit will become trapped here forever.”

“Please, brother. Believe me,” said the Thor on Loki’s right.

“Brother, you must listen to me,” said the Thor on Loki’s left.

“Why me?” Loki said.

“What a question,” said one Thor.

“You are my brother and I love you,” said the other.

“I cannot tell you if the creature wants you instead of Thor or wants you both,” Ikol said. “You have some magical ability about you, poor or no, but the spirit of the Aesir as a whole, and even the spirit of a half-giant, are much brighter, by far, than that of mere Midgardians. It could be that you were both intended, but Thor escaped its clutches, at least temporarily, so it went after you. Or perhaps it felt Thor was too much for it and distracted him with this being the outcome. After all, it is common predatory behaviour to go after the weak, the sick, and the young.”

Loki stood, trembling, eying first one Thor and then the other. It was too dark to make out their features exactly. He slightly favoured the Thor on his right – there was something in his posture evocative of true concern for his well-being – but he dared not make a move. If he chose wrong, he risked obliterating his brother forever, followed, most likely, by himself. However, until he made a move, they would not attack. Though he was too weak to take on even a false representation of Thor, with or without the weariness of spellcasting, even the most shallow cut from the knife could be devastating.

This assumed Ikol was telling the truth, of course, but, having experienced the knife’s effects for himself, Loki did not think his evil echo was lying.

“Please, Loki,” said the Thor on his right. “I fear you will injure yourself with that knife. Please put it down and back away. Run from me if you must – I will hold this witching creature at bay – but please…do not put yourself in harm’s way.”

A feeling of warmth and comfort stole over Loki. Surely he was correct and the Thor on the right was his true brother. Only the real Thor would show such concern for him.

“Loki, if you run, I will lose sight of you and no longer be able to protect you,” said the Thor on his left. “If you are on your own and this creature gets away, it might approach you without me near and convince you that it is truly your brother.”

Another compelling argument. Loki’s certainty began to erode.

“I believe you know me well enough to tell us apart,” said the Thor on the right.

“As do I, when we are together, but in the heat of the moment, when it is only you and he, I fear he might be quite persuasive,” said the Thor on his left. He paused and then looked down, resigned. “If you must, brother, kill us both. But do it quickly. If you kill the wrong one first, the creature might attack and bear you down before you can turn the knife on it.”

The Thor on the right glared angrily at his counterpart as Loki bit his lip. Offering to sacrifice himself simply to let Loki feel safe in his decision was certainly like Thor. But…

“That is very much like Thor, but not at all remarkable,” Ikol said. “Anyone who knows of Thor in any capacity could guess that he would sacrifice himself for another, especially family. To say it means nothing. As he said, while you are stabbing one, the other may attack or, if you attack the creature first, it will be ready for you, having provoked you.”

“Kill us both if you must,” the Thor on the right agreed, “but know that I would not place such a heavy burden on you. I would not ask that you start this new life with bloodshed. If you know a safe place to run and hide, do so, and I will take care of this. If you…” Here he paused with a heavy sigh. “If you still feel afraid, you need not approach me afterward. You may stay hidden. You may choose to never come near me again. I will not call to you. I will not look for you. I care only for your safety.”

That, too, was very like Thor, Loki thought, but it was not enough to force his hand. He could not run, could not leave Thor to the creature. He did not doubt that Thor could fight in a physical capacity, but, if Ikol was right, if they were interacting on a non-physical plane, if other such knives existed, then Thor was every bit at risk as he.

Honestly, when he thought about it, there was really only one way to know the truth.

Turning the knife over in his hands, Loki raised his arms high above his head. Ikol squawked in protest, realizing what he was about.

“I’m sorry, brother,” Loki said. “This is the only way.”

He drove the knife downward.

“LOKI, NO!” bellowed the Thor on the right even as he sprinted forward and grabbed Loki’s wrists before he could split open his belly, twisting them painfully until the knife dropped from his nerveless fingers and fell into the dirt. Then he enveloped Loki in a crushing hug that quite surprised him and drove the air from his lungs.

“I knew it was you. I did!” Loki gasped from the depth of Thor’s embrace. “I would not have done it. Truly. I only wanted your reaction. I… Ah, Thor? I cannot breathe…”

“Never, Loki. Promise me you will never harm yourself,” Thor begged and Loki noticed with some embarrassment that he was crying. There were no sobs and only a shimmer of tears, but he was crying nonetheless. “Please, promise me.”

“I would not have, Thor,” Loki said awkwardly. “I would not have—”

“Not even in jest, Loki. Promise me.”

“I promise, Thor,” Loki said, clutching at his brother’s shirt. To his extreme disgrace he found himself tearing up as well. “I promise, all right? I only… I knew it wanted me dead, by its hand or my own, and you did not, and—”

“Please, no more,” Thor said. “Not right now.”

“But, Thor…” Loki said. “The creature…”

Thor released him with one arm and scooped up the knife, turning to face whatever might be behind him, but the doppelgänger was gone without a trace.

“Coward,” Thor spat.

“Smart,” Loki said. “It was not strong enough to fight you alone. Now there are two of us and we have the spirit knife.”

“Spirit knife?” Thor said and Loki briefly shared Ikol’s insight. “It explains well enough why I cannot find the city although I can hear it.”

“I could not hear such sounds in the motel room, but I suppose silence is as much a deceit as the sound of your voice. What happened, Thor?”

“I went to check the laundry and put it on to dry. When I stepped out, I heard you call for help. It was…very urgent,” Thor said, “ so I ran after you. By the time I realized the sound was false, I could not find my way back to the motel.” He snorted in derision. “I suppose you think me foolish.”

“Very foolish.” Loki chuckled, but it was a small, frightened sound. “I nearly fell for the same trick. It was only a poor choice of crisis that prevented me from walking into its arms. I do not think it would have run away from me. How did you know I was here?”

“I called to Mjölnir and thought I felt it come, but could not find it to catch it. Then I thought I heard you cry out, but could not find you either. I circled the area, looking.”

“I used Mjölnir to find you,” Loki admitted. “The landing was less than spectacular. I suppose I was stunned for a time. Perhaps I did not appear on this plane until I awoke; it is a place of the mind, after all. Our bodies are still on the physical plane, moving as we move, but we can only see through our mind’s eye here. That is why it is dangerous to move around too much. If we stop somewhere we cannot see the danger, we could be injured or killed. Our spirits would be trapped here forever.”

“I see,” Thor said, his voice laced with anger. Loki decided he would not want to be the creature if they ever found it again. “And you know of no way out of this place?”

“No, Thor. Forgive me. It is not the sort of magic I know, even if I had power enough to practise it.”

“It is not your fault,” Thor said, hugging Loki tightly in one arm. His voice took on an air of amusement. “But you did use the shield you mentioned, did you not?”

“Yes. I had to,” Loki said, “but it was very difficult and I am very tired. I will keep my chin up until we are far from here, but if we get back, I fear I will not be much for conversation.”

“I understand,” Thor said.

“At least I did not break the safety of the room by inviting that foul creature in,” Loki said. “If we get back and bar the door, we should be safe until morning.”

“If we get back at all, we will be safe. I will see to it,” Thor said grimly.

“I believe you, brother,” Loki said. “Perhaps you could release me now? I feel I scheme much better when I am not so…compressed.”

Thor eased his hold, but only a little.

“Loki,” he said gravely, “I will let you go, but you must understand what I am telling you. Never do that again. Never.”

“I swear, it was a ruse,” Loki said, offering his most brilliant smile. “I knew you would not let me. No one else would have stopped me—”

“Hush,” Thor said and Loki stopped speaking. He was nervous now and twisted the fabric of his nightshirt in one fist, the fabric of Thor’s shirt in the other.

“You are more wrong than you know,” Thor said, “but this matters not. You must never, ever make such a threat again. Not as a ruse. Not in jest. Not even if you see no other way. You are too young and too precious—”

“To whom?” Loki said and could not keep the bitterness from his voice.

“To me,” Thor said firmly. “And to any who would pause long enough to stop and think.”

“Self-sacrifice is the only reason half of Asgardia does not kill me on sight,” Loki said. “The other half are afraid of you.”

“The self-sacrifice of a grown man,” Thor said, “and one who caused more ill than good. But you are not him, you are a child, and I will not watch you treat yourself so cavalierly. I will not watch you kill yourself. Not again. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Thor,” Loki said, suddenly understanding more than he ever cared to.

“Promise me you will never trade your life for mine.”

“I… I cannot,” Loki said. “I cannot!” he repeated when Thor clutched him angrily. “I cannot promise not to die for you. I cannot! But I can promise not to do it unless I am absolutely certain there is no other way and it will absolutely make a difference and it is not by my own hand, if you insist. I am not so biased against living, I swear. And you know… And you know that being sneaky to save my own skin is in my nature, so it is quite unlikely that I should go back on that, yes?”

Thor did not look impressed, nor did he look angry. He hugged Loki tightly once again and then released him.

“I suppose that will have to do,” he said sadly. “Now that you are feeling less compressed, do you have any idea how we might leave this place?”

Loki shifted nervously. He was anxious about having made Thor upset, but he really could not make such promises. Not when Thor meant as much to him.

“I am not certain,” Loki said, “but I think it would be imprudent to wander around if we cannot see where our bodies are going. We must find a way to change our perception back to the physical. I do not know if we were pulled through a barrier or a portal or how we arrived. What did you see when you ran after the false me?”

“Nothing worth noting,” Thor said. “I followed it across the road and then it seemed I was running into a field, but the city vanished behind me much more quickly than should be natural. Suddenly, I could no longer see it.”

“Gradual transition, perhaps,” Loki said. “I was holding on to Mjölnir and did not really see what was happening. I do not know if the transition happened over time, or only after I found myself in the field. Reasonably, we should be able to walk back toward the city and slowly come back. Reasonably. However, I do not know in which direction we should walk and, when I was in the motel room, the city seemed blanked out. This could mean that the transfer point can be moved. In which case we might wander around until we are found and locked up as insane or else struck by an oncoming vehicle.”

“I do not think this creature reasonable, although it is certainly cunning,” Thor said.

“I agree,” Loki said. “The question is how to find the transition point.”

“The question,” Ikol said, returning from wherever he had flown when Thor suddenly grabbed Loki, “is how to bring your body and consciousness together. The transition point is irrelevant.”

Loki nodded. That, too, was something to consider. Perhaps they did not need a particular transfer point. If their bodies and spirits moved as one, perhaps a change from both into a similar plane would bring them together.

He quieted himself and listened for any sign of the thrum and sizzle of energy that might signal an inter-realm passage. He knew they existed on Midgard, even apart from the World Tree in Asgardia, but he did not know where. He was certain his older self had a better grasp of their nature and locations, but Ikol was quiet on the subject. He admitted to those he remembered, but admitted also that his memories were so condensed as to make them difficult to sort through. Not all of his thoughts could be accessed at once by the tiny brain of a magpie, no matter how intelligent a bird it might be.

“What are you doing?” Thor said.

“You know well that my previous self had his means of travel,” Loki said. “Some may be accessed even without magic if one has proper knowledge of them. I do not know where they are, but hoped, perhaps, I could sense them. Sadly, I do not feel a thing.”

“And I do not remember any in this area,” Ikol volunteered.

“It seems that luck is not in our favour this day,” Loki said, and then an ugly thought occurred to him. Ugly, because he did not want to do it. Ugly, because he was not certain Thor could follow him.

“I know that look on your face,” Ikol said, “and you may abandon that thought right now. I did not show you the route to the Shadow Lands that you might use it at every opportunity. Have I not told you it is dangerous? Have I not told you the troubles that come to those who manipulate the story? Furthermore, Thor cannot go. He is not made of the same stuff as you.”

“Should not, truly. But cannot? Are you certain?” Loki said.

“Cannot what?” Thor said.

Ikol only hopped around anxiously, which Loki took to mean that “cannot” was not a thing that had been tested although “should not” was most definitely important.

“Nothing,” Loki said, reluctant to explain in depth his connection to the Shadow Lands. “I am simply musing aloud. There might be another route, but it is not for those who… It is not for those who have no affinity for magic. My power might be small and next to useless, but it is enough to be recognized. You, on the other hand, are a warrior true and not meant for such passages. However…”

“However?” Thor prompted.

Loki bit his lip. He was not sure what the outcome of this would be, but if he could draw both himself and Thor into the Shadow Lands, even a little way, he might draw their bodies and spirits together and they would be whole and in the waking world once they left.

“However, I think I might be able to get around that,” Loki said. “If I… If I use the shield spell on you, you will be cloaked in magic. It might be enough to pass through the barriers. You will have to be as silent and as stealthy as you can and…I may have to blindfold you. You do not know magic well enough to look for the passage. You will have to trust me, brother.”

Loki bit his lip as Thor cupped his face, stroked his cheek.

“All right,” Thor said. “Do what you must.”

Chapter Text

“Now, you must not look,” Loki said as he adjusted the shirt Thor had removed to tie around his eyes.

“Are things so terrifying for those who have no magic?” Thor said, crouched down before him.

“Of course not,” Loki said, smiling slightly. Thor thought everything was about the physical, what could be fought and what could not. “You are a warrior. Do you not read the course of the fight in your opponent’s strikes?”

“Of course,” Thor said. “To ignore such a thing leaves one open to attack.”

“As will misreading the signs,” Loki said. “It is much the same with magical passageways. If you do not know what you are seeing, you might take the wrong passage and get lost.”

“Or worse,” Ikol said.

“But I know what I am looking at and can lead us through,” Loki stressed nervously. “You might hear strange things where we are going, but you must not respond to them. The shield might not hold if you do.”

“I understand,” Thor said. He followed the line of Loki’s arm to his shoulder and squeezed it gently. “But will this casting not harm you?”

“It is tiring,” Loki admitted, “but there will be time enough to rest when we get back. Now you must be quiet and follow where I lead.”

He gathered Thor’s hands in his own and stilled his mind. He thought he would not have to be in contact if he were a better magic user, but for now he would use every advantage he had.

Concentrating as hard as he could, Loki tried to draw upon the power a second time. It was more difficult than before. He felt lightheaded and weak and his body burned from the effort, but he held on and forced what power he could draw into Thor, hoping beyond hope that the shield would work. It was not just a matter of Thor’s passing through, he knew, but a need to hide him as much as possible from the creatures of that place.

He was a little shaky when he was done, but Thor supported him until he could catch his breath and then smiled when Loki patted his arm, indicating that he had composed himself. True to his promise, Thor never said a word.

Thor stood and Loki took his hand. Focusing on the shadows in the grass, he watched for the oscillations of reality.

“This is a terrible idea,” Ikol said, settling on his shoulder.

Loki said nothing. Of course it was a terrible idea. It was simply the only idea he had. With luck, they would not have to spend much time in the Shadow Lands. They were not travelling from place to place, after all, only escaping the plane in which their spirits were trapped.

As the oscillations stilled, Loki took a deep breath.

“Come along. Straight ahead,” he said, and stepped forward.

Loki felt Thor fall in behind him, moving cautiously so as not to overtake him, and the shadows rose up around them, filling the air with their murmuring whispers, screams, and cries. He squeezed Thor’s hand to remind him that they were the shades of sound and not to act on what he heard.

He paused then, and Thor bumped into him. He had no idea in which direction to head or how far he should go. He would have thought that simply entering and exiting would be enough, but he could see no sign of a doorway. The shadows did not shift and move. Even the sounds around them began to still, replaced by sudden gasps and the textured silence of an audience with baited breath.

“I guess we’re on our own,” Loki murmured and began walking forward once again. He scanned the area for variations, any kind of deeper shadow that might signal a doorway back into his own reality. His heart thrilled when a masse of it rose up before them and drew Thor into a run.

He was completely unprepared for its solidity and ran into it full-tilt, bouncing back with a winded, “Whud.”

The Deus ex Machina, came a voice from the shadow wall as Loki stumbled back into Thor, who caught and held him, but remained silent. A literary device named for the convention in Greek drama of sending in a god or other spiritual entity to resolve the plot. The resolution is usually independent of the plot with no previous set-up, foreshadowing, or indication of its use. It is generally frowned upon.

“Oh, hello,” Loki said, smiling brightly. “You are the Lady of the Stolen Name, are you not?”

Were you listening at all?

“No, rather not. My mind is on other things, you see,” Loki said. “Mostly on matters of trying to save my own skin. It is rather important to me, so, if you would be so kind as to help us find a door…” He paused and added, almost as an afterthought, “I will not be impeded.”

Ikol uttered an avian groan.

You’re the subject, not the patron. You don’t get to make demands. And he has no right to be here.

“I suppose you are technically correct,” Loki said, moving to shield Thor as best he could, “but I could not very well leave without him.”

Then why not leave by conventional means?

“There were none?”

Did you look? the shadow said dryly.

“Well, you need not use that tone,” Loki said, twisting his fingers. “We had no way to leave the spirit plane. No way to find or defeat the creature as we were.”

You have the knife. Did you lure it? Did you bleed it? Did you even try?

Loki bit his lip. The thought of using such a terrible weapon was distasteful. “Considering the risk…”

You took the easy way out?

“More the sneaky way out, I should think.”

That is not what this place is for. He is not whom this place is for. The narrative provides and there was no allusion to this.

“Oh, well… Yes,” Loki said brightly. “That is technically the truth, I suppose. But to say there is no allusion when I have come this way before…”

The shadow loomed, dark and threatening. Ikol hunkered down against Loki’s neck, but said nothing.

“The way I see it,” Loki said, speaking quickly. “I have come this way before and so there is allusion to my coming here again in the long term. I have taken liberties, I suppose, and certainly pushed my luck by bringing…guests, but I am rather new at this and are beginners not permitted to make mistakes? More to the point, is testing my limits not in my nature? I would be remiss if I did not try to twist things to my advantage.”

The silence stretched out over several minutes until finally the shadow settled back.

You are talking series-level continuity. Is this the way you wish to play it?

“Um… Yes?” Loki said.

Then let it be on your head if it's not well received, the shadow said. And if you dare to bring another “guest”—

“I am sure my punishment will be suitably painful and memorable,” Loki said, offering his most charming smile.

He drew back as the shadow bent over him, leaning in close.

I will do nothing to you, the shadow said, but I will kill them.

“Understood,” Loki said stiffly.

And, as you’re not going to use the knife… Give it back.

“All right,” Loki said. He turned to Thor and patted his brother on the arm. “I need the knife,” he said in a low voice. He did not know if the shield did much to protect his brother, certainly it did nothing to mask his presence from the Lady of the Stolen Name, but that did not mean Thor did not depend on it to travel through the Shadow Lands and so he tried his best to keep the spell active.

He withdrew the spirit knife that Thor had tucked in his belt, moving carefully so as not to nick himself or Thor, and held it up to the shadow. Dark tendrils flowed over the knife and took it from his hands. Once it was gone, a deeper well of darkness opened up.

Go and finish what you’ve started, the shadow said, and then the shadow well closed a fraction. But first, what have we learned?

Loki smiled brightly and offered a courtly bow.

“That the answer is in the narrative,” he said, “that I must take responsibility for my choices, and that the Deus ex Machina is a literary device that is generally frowned upon for conflict resolution.”

He waited until the shadow well expanded again before nudging Thor and leading him forward. Ikol fluttered nervously on his shoulder. When they were almost through the doorway, he added, “Although…’frowned upon’ is not the same as invalid.”

And he pulled Thor through the doorway before the shadow could retaliate.

Chapter Text

“That was possibly the stupidest thing you have ever done,” Ikol said when the shadows dispersed and they could breathe fresh air again.

“We are through, brother,” Loki said, ignoring the magpie. The night was clear and the lights and sounds of Gallup filled it with bustling life.

Well, perhaps not bustling, Loki thought as Thor removed the shirt he had used to blind himself. They were in a back lot somewhere and the area was vacant, but it was certainly more lively than the empty field of the spirit plane.

“Did I do well?” Thor said half-jokingly as he pulled his shirt back on.

“You were the very model of stealth and obedience,” Loki told him.

“And you of brilliance,” Thor said, stroking his brother’s hair. He looked around in satisfaction and reached out his hand. There came a thrumming noise and Mjölnir whipped through the air, its handle coming to rest solidly in his palm.

“I know. I am rather remarkable,” Loki said.

Ikol huffed. “You’re going to get us all killed.”

Thor smiled and nudged his brother. “But who were you talking to?”

Loki froze. He had not realized Thor could not hear the shadows. Perhaps it was part and parcel of not having a trickster’s nature?

“They are the beings of that place,” he said semi-truthfully. “I suppose they were speaking in a magical language or by magical means. I could hear them easily. It is…best not to engage with them too fully, but I needed to request passage.”

“The things you said, brother, about your punishment…”

“That is nothing, Thor. Empty threats,” Loki assured him. “I think the shield worked well enough, but they were not happy that I had brought a non-magic user. Even so, I have been given reprieve. Know I would not have done it if I could think of aught else to do.”

“Perhaps it is I who should have tried harder,” Thor said. “It matters little now. What’s done is done and there is yet a creature out there who would harm us.”

“It is done and cannot be undone,” Loki agreed as Ikol muttered on his shoulder. “We can return to the motel now. The room should still be safe enough.”

“Aye,” Thor said. “We will return and there you will stay. I will hunt this creature down.”

“But, Thor…!” Loki protested.

“I know what it is about now,” Thor said. “It will not trap me again. And you know where I will be and what I am doing. You will have no reason to leave the room. Understood?”

“Tho-or, you have promised not to leave me behind…”

“I will not put you at risk again. Understood?”

Thor’s tone bordered on angry now, so Loki offered a placating smile and grasped his wrist.

“I am not complaining about your desire to protect me, brother,” Loki said, “but I… I do not want to lose you either. These things typically only come out at night when darkness covers their actions. Once we are on the road again, it will not bother us. Why do you not stay safe in the room with me?”

“Because once we are gone, it will find another to consume and they might not be as fortunate as we.”

“Oh,” Loki said, feeling suddenly small. “You truly are Asgard’s golden son. I would not have been so generous.”

“When you are in a position of greater power and lesser danger, you might feel differently,” Thor said. “Besides, did you not call the attention of a demon to save a group of mortals?”

“You rescued me from that,” Loki said quietly.

“But you did not know that I would,” Thor told him. “I am accustomed to guarding a realm, you are accustomed to doing the task before you.”

“I suppose,” Loki said, and then yelped as Thor scooped him up and tossed him over his left shoulder. Ikol squawked and took to the air.

“And the task before you now,” Thor said, “is to return to the motel room.”

“A sensible suggestion,” Ikol said, landing on Loki’s back.

“There are more dignified ways to go about this, Thor,” Loki said, squirming in his brother’s grip. But he was fully dressed now and not slick with pool water and Thor was able to grip him easily. He resorted to uselessly pounding his brother’s back with his limited strength.

“We will talk about those in the morning,” Thor said, twirling Mjölnir in his right hand.

“Do you even know where we are going?” Loki protested.

“We are going toward the lights where we might find a street and determine where the motel is,” Thor said. “You may stop attacking me now.”

“I will not!” Loki said. “Not until you put me down, Thor! Not until—”

His irritation died as he saw the blackness gathering behind them, stalking them like an animal. Sounds seemed to disappear into it, becoming hollow and tinny around the edges.

“Um…Thor?” Loki said, changing his small punches to prods and nudges. “If you will not let me go, at least turn around. Please?”

Thor obliged him and his relaxed stance of one prepared for flight became the tense crouch of one prepared to fight. He continued to twirl Mjölnir, but his focus changed as the amassing dark became his target. When Thor threw his weapon, the effect was always devastating. It was the perfect attack…

Unless the hammer was needed to ground them.

“Wait, Thor!” Loki cried, grappling at his brother’s shirt and shoulder. “Wait! Don’t throw it!”

“What are you saying?” Thor said, backing up a step as the darkened form drew closer.

“Fight it, but do not let go of the hammer,” Loki said. “I… When I used it to find you, I do not think I was drawn into the spirit plane until I released Mjölnir. I think the same power that prevents the unworthy from lifting it protects its wielder as well.”

“Are you certain?” Thor said.

“No,” Loki admitted, “but better safe than sorry, is that not so? Um, Thor? Must you carry me upside down?”

Keeping his eyes locked with the mysterious darkened masse, Thor slowly lowered Loki to his feet, Ikol clinging to his shirt and climbing onto his head, and ushered him to the rear.

“Run, Loki. Back to the main road and back to the motel. Hide in the room,” Thor said. “I will hold this beast at bay.”

“No,” Loki said, although he did not decline his brother’s shielding.

“Loki…”

“No,” Loki repeated. “That creature lured you away and then came after me. While I do not doubt that your spirit would make a dainty snack for it, it seems to prefer those of a magical nature, no matter how meagre a meal.”

Thor huffed in anger, wanting to confront his brother, but unable to turn away from their attacker.

“And this will convince me not to protect you?”

“You can protect me best if I am here, where Mjölnir can ground us both and where it cannot dodge around you to hunt me down,” Loki said reasonably.

At that moment, the gathered masse growled and resolved itself into a large, wolfish beast that reared back and lunged forward, fangs bared. It snapped its teeth as Thor swung his hammer, which passed harmlessly through the darkness only to have the beast’s actual muzzle emerge from the cloud and clamp down on Thor’s forearm.

Thor screamed as though his soul were being torn from his body.

“Thor!” Loki shouted, gripping Thor’s shirt. The beast’s paw snaked around and swiped at him, but he threw himself to the side and huddled against his brother. Its claws grazed Thor’s back, tearing his shirt and leaving five bloody lines of fire in his flesh. Thor cried out again, arching his back as if to escape the searing pain.

“Sorry. I’m sorry,” Loki said hoarsely. “I did not mean for it to… I did not mean…”

Holding the beast back with his right arm, Thor grabbed Loki with his left hand and drew him in against his chest. The great creature huffed, foetid breath striking Loki in the face. It did not release Thor’s weapon arm, but raised its paw for another swipe. The angle was wrong, as was the shape of the claws, and Loki realized the beast was not entirely a beast.

Five claw marks, one an opposable thumb: the monster was not only able to appear human in the mind’s eye, the monster was human.

Although Loki’s knowledge of Midgardian myth was limited to what he found in books, men with the natures of beasts were considered especially savage on the hunt. Some needed flesh, some needed blood, and some needed the spirit on which to feed, but they were all notoriously hard to kill.

“Bleed it,” Loki said, pressed against Thor’s chest as Thor wrestled single-handedly with the beast. “The shadow… The shadow said it could bleed. Anything that breaks the skin, will probably—”

“Enough, Loki,” Thor said, his voice steady, and Loki knew that, teeth embedded in his arm or not, Thor had the creature where he wanted it and was infinitely pleased.

The creature was not the only thing able to control its environment, but Thor’s methods were more visceral than that of the spirit plane. As his anger built, the clouds gathered, and thunder rolled across the sky. Mjölnir sparked in reply, tendrils of electricity crawling along its surface.

The creature realized something was amiss, but Thor released Loki and grabbed it by its throat, preventing its escape. A bolt of lightning snaked down, blinding white, and the beast shrieked as the fire blazed through it. His right arm freed, Thor drew back Mjölnir and brought it crashing down against the creature’s skull. The hammer’s discharge on impact burned its way into the creature’s head, boiling its eyes, and setting its fur on fire.

Loki saw no more as he turned to bury his face in his brother’s shirt. Thor released the monster and caught Loki around the waist, pulling him back. Although he could not see it, Loki heard the beast thrashing and shrieking – a terrible, bubbling sound – as its blood boiled and hemorrhaged. One more strike, which Loki felt as a prickling along his skin and saw as white light against his closed lids, and the terrible screaming stopped.

Hesitantly, Loki turned to look at the thing, but Thor restrained him.

“Do not,” Thor said. “There is no need for you to look upon such a sight.”

“How delicate do you think I am?” Loki said, amused. “Besides, I have need. I would see it dead.”

Thor paused, perhaps debating with himself, and then eased his hold.

“I understand,” he said and Loki turned to look.

The thing was charred and twisted, too man-like to be a beast, too beast-like to be a man, trapped, perhaps, in an in-between state by the sudden burst of lightning. The sight was vile, but the smell was worse and Loki gagged when it hit him, but managed to keep the contents of his stomach down.

“Well, that is certainly unpleasant,” he said weakly. “I think I have seen enough, thank you. It might be best to leave this place before the authorities appear. I know you are a fine, upstanding citizen, Thor, but this—”

“If the authorities have issue with those who put down rabid beasts, they may seek me out themselves,” Thor said, scooping Loki onto his left arm and spinning Mjölnir to generate some force. “Although I will thank the thing for nothing else in its wretched life, I do thank it for presenting itself, that we did not have to hunt it down.”

“You know, as grand an adventure as this was, I am not sure I will share it online,” Loki said, putting his arms around his brother’s neck. “Faceless ghosts are fine, but no one will ever believe this.”

Thor chuckled. “Worry not. You will surely feel differently in the morning,” he said and launched them both toward Gallup’s main highway.

Chapter Text

Loki sighed in contentment as Thor’s fingers combed through his hair and gently massaged his scalp. If he were a cat, he thought, he might very well purr, so comfortable and content was he.

Contentment was an odd thought, even when contained in such a brief moment. He felt slightly guilty, as though he should feel no contentment without Leah or Thori – but especially Leah – and yet the moment was what it was. He was warm, he was fed, and his head rested on a pillow on Thor’s lap where it could be petted and stroked. It was undignified, true, but Loki felt drained, utterly exhausted, and opted not to worry about it. Thor was generally discreet, so he doubted the news would get out.

The laundry had been dry when they reached the motel, which had been grand, and Loki had folded it while Thor looked for food to be delivered. Fighting supernatural creatures built up an appetite, it seemed. The only thing available late at night was pizza – not very thrilling considering how often it was ordered in Asgardia – although, oddly enough, beer could also be delivered though a separate service. Most mortal beer was swill, according to Volstagg, but beggars could not be choosers and Thor put in an order for both while Loki scrubbed his nightshirt in the bathroom and hung it up to dry. He had no intention of using the motel laundry facilities again.

Loki had helped Thor clean his wounds, which were not only healing, but almost evaporating, a sign of their spiritual nature. He had then bundled up in one of Thor’s T-shirts, eaten two pieces of pizza, been permitted a few swallows of beer – which truly was terrible – and curled up to watch television. Migrating to Thor’s lap had begun as an issue of visibility, but he was willing to reap whatever benefits came with it.

The benefits were quickly becoming the best part and Loki could not quite remember what he was watching or what was going on. He was exhausted, half-dozing, and internally debating the merits of getting Thor to extend benefits to his belly. The strange combination of pizza and beer sat heavily in his stomach and it ached a little, but he was entirely too lazy to rub it himself. Of course, getting Thor to do it would require rolling over and he was entirely too lazy to do that too.

Eventually, his level of comfort declined to the point where a shift in attention was less a matter of desire and more a matter of necessity and Loki squirmed over onto his back. Thor paused in his ministrations and then rested his hand gently on Loki’s chest, almost where he wanted it, but when he opened his eyes to talk to Thor, Loki forgot his complaints.

“You look very sad,” he said, covering Thor’s hand with his own.

Thor smiled, but even his smile was sad.

“Memories,” he said. “No concern of yours.”

“Are they about me? If so, they are my concern,” Loki said. “Are you still worried? I am alive, you know.” He clutched Thor’s hand against his chest. “I have a heartbeat and everything. See?”

“I know,” Thor said, offering no more than the same, sad smile. “You are very much alive and it gladdens my heart, but there will always be sad memories that will rise and must be endured.”

Loki struggled to sit up. He felt muzzy and sleepy, but it worried him listening to Thor say such things.

“Will it help if I tell you a story?” he said, curling up against the headboard. “I can tell you a funny bedtime story. I can tell you about when Leah and I went to the moving pictures show in Broxton.”

Thor’s smile warmed. “You brought a girl to the movies?” he said, obviously amused. He turned down the volume on the television to hear more.

“You need not give me that look. It was hardly like that!” Loki protested although, to his ever-deepening embarrassment, he could feel his cheeks warm. “There was a marathon of plays of horror that I did not wish to attend alone…”

“Frightened?” Thor said, still amused.

“My name, no!” Loki huffed, although the answer was closer to yes. “But what fun would it be to go alone? Leah did not wish to go, although she was not afraid. Either. She was no more afraid than I, but she claimed to find such things silly. She came anyway though.”

“A fair outing,” Thor said. “The youth of Midgard are especially fond of movies as a destination for ‘dates’.”

“It was not a date,” Loki said.

“Did you pay her ticket?”

“And her food, yes. She had no money, Thor!” Loki protested, when Thor gave him a knowing look, but he could not be truly angry. Thor was smiling more sincerely now and that was what he strove for. “We did nothing untoward.”

“Did you want to?”

“Tho-or…”

“All right, it was not a date,” Thor said. “What did you do at this moving picture show?”

“Well…” Loki began, but was interrupted by an odd sound. It took him several moments to recognize his phone.

“I never get calls. No one I know uses phones,” he said, excusing himself and grabbing the device from the bedside table.

“I gave your number to Stark at the hospital,” Thor told him. “It was the only number where I knew we could be reached. I hope that does not bother you.”

It did, a little, Loki had to admit as he took the call. Then again, Tony Stark calling his phone: how cool was that?

“Hello?” he said.

The voice on the other end sounded somewhat harried. “Is this Mr…er, Thor?”

“You sound nothing at all like Tony Stark,” Loki said, disappointed.

“I’m not Stark. This is Gary Stevenson. I work for Mr. Stark. Is this…” There came a shuffling of papers. “Loki?”

“Yes.”

“Is Thor available?”

Loki debated playing with the man, but if he was calling about arrangements made at the hospital, it was probably important.

Also, he was just too tired to bother tonight.

“For you,” he told Thor, handing over the phone. He then curled back up against the headboard to listen to Thor’s side of the conversation.

It was difficult to learn much. Thor was not talkative and offered little more than agreement or dissent, requests for further information, and the assurance that he understood and he would be in contact with them in the morning.

“Forgive me,” Thor said, turning off the phone and handing it back to Loki. “I should have thought, perhaps, to arrange some form of communication for the trip, but did not expect so much excitement. I can purchase my own, if you prefer, and give that number to Stark’s man instead although I am not sure we will have further need of it.”

“You need not,” Loki said. “It is rather nice being called although I would prefer you ask before sharing my number in the future. There are a lot of lunatics out there.”

“Of course,” Thor said. He smiled, but the sadness was back and caused Loki to fidget.

“Was it the hospital?” he said.

“Yes,” Thor told him.

“Did something happen to Sue?”

“The girl is well enough,” Thor assured him. “She will not heal as quickly as you, but she is healing. This call was with regards to the other one.”

Loki’s heart jumped. “Andrea? What about her?”

“She died earlier. Almost two hours ago,” Thor said. “Stark’s man, the son of Steven, wished to inform me of this and to warn me that further testimony might be necessary. She died by violence, and so there will be a short investigation. It is his place to defend your defender.”

“DeeDee?”

“Yes. DeeDee. She will be questioned again although, because we have all given testimony that she struck Andrea to protect you, and because Andrea’s family has not been found, he thinks it unlikely that charges will be pressed. Still, she will be given good counsel and protected.”

“Oh. Thank you,” Loki said, twisting the folds of his clothing. “I will have to arrange a gift.”

At this, Thor chuckled. “He is being well paid. That is gift enough. Although, if you insist, we will do so.” He paused then, sobering. “Are you all right?”

“Oh. Yes,” Loki said although he was a mixed bag of emotions. “I am relieved that Andrea will not hurt anyone else, I suppose, although I am also a bit saddened that she will never have the chance to feel sorry. Both because she should feel sorry and because I…because I want to know that she can.” He looked down sheepishly, somewhat ashamed. “That is rather selfish, I know.”

“I am sure that she was capable,” Thor told him, “but whether she would is another matter entirely. Rage is often all consuming. That is worth remembering.”

“Oh,” Loki said for the third time. He was feeling unaccountably anxious and this did not help the heavy feeling in this stomach. “Excuse me, please,” he said, sliding off the bed. “I am going to use the bathroom.”

Loki felt twisted into knots. Using the facilities did not make him feel any better. Brushing his teeth did not make him feel any better, nor did drinking water or combing his hair. Ikol appeared as he was washing his face.

“Ominous,” said the magpie.

“You are not at all reassuring,” Loki replied quietly.

“Am I meant to be?” Ikol said. “I am only aware that I am the compact memories of your old self, given this form to offer advice. Are you hoping I will give you platitudes and nuzzle and stroke you as Thor does? You will certainly become a dull little creature if—”

“Enough,” Loki said firmly. “Am I not deserving of…? Nevermind. That is not what I wish to know. What do you mean by ‘ominous’?”

“You spit in the face of a Puppet-Master, now someone is dead. Does that not seem ominous to you?”

Loki snorted. “Puppet-Master?”

“It is a name I heard used somewhere in reference to the people of the Shadow Lands. They pull strings. It seemed apt.”

“Are you implying they are the hands of fate?”

“Of course not,” Ikol said. “Fate has its course and, in any event, we are free of it. However, as I have said, all things cast a shadow and those shadows can be manipulated by those who know the way of it. Not controlled per se, but…”

“And you are suggesting that the Lady of the Stolen Name is a Puppet-Master? Furthermore, that she has killed Andrea?” Loki said.

“I am suggesting that Andrea would have died anyway. That she has died now, after you brought Thor through the Shadow Lands, is the work of a Puppet-Master,” Ikol said. “It is elegant, when you think of it. Andrea had rage, but no ties. She was the perfect tool to be used and then discarded.”

“That gives me much to think on,” Loki said, “but I must know one more thing. The Lady said that I was the subject, not the patron, and so I could not order her. If she pulls strings, she pulls them for someone.”

“Perhaps,” Ikol said and left it at that.

“You were able to order her.”

“I phrased the command, yes,” Ikol said, “but if it responded, it was as a favour. I have no control over it. It owes me nothing.”

“I see,” Loki said. “What was the thing we fought?”

“Tch. You think I have a thought for the paltry magics of Midgard?” Ikol said, pacing around the edge of the sink. When Loki side-eyed him, he fluffed his feathers and relented. “A were-beast of sorts. There are different kinds. This one’s use of the spirit knife means it was no doubt a sorcerer. One who willingly made the pact to acquire the nature of a beast. Beyond that, I know nothing.”

“Well, it shall not bother us again, I imagine,” Loki said, “unless the death of its body is not enough…”

“No,” Ikol said drily. “Thor has felled greater monsters than that paltry thing. It will not rise again.”

“That is good to know,” Loki said.

He eyed himself in the mirror. He looked scruffy and hollow. He felt shivery and wanted to curl up with Thor and forget all about this. At his most frightened throughout the War of the Serpent, its aftermath, his dealings with Mephisto, and all other challenges he had faced since returning from the aether, he had never felt this lost. Those places, while dangerous, were places he knew. Those people were people he understood. This was different.

Still, he would find a way to weather it. He had no choice.

“One more thing, evil me,” Loki said. “You usually hide from Thor, but you were with us on the spirit plane and in the Shadow Lands and he did not seem to notice you. Can he see you at all?”

“I am uncertain,” Ikol said. “Perhaps he can. Perhaps he cannot. I try to err on the side of caution. Do you really want to attempt to explain me?”

“No,” Loki decided. “At least, not at this time. Hide if you must, but one day I will steel myself to ask him.”

“As you will,” Ikol said.

Loki left the bathroom and clambered back up onto the bed beside his brother.

“Are you well?” Thor said.

“My mind cannot settle,” Loki told him.

“My poor brother,” Thor said, drawing Loki back down onto his lap. “It has been a difficult night.”

“There have been worse nights, but I should be happy if all our future troubles on this trip were of the mundane variety,” Loki said. “I would not cry if all my worries concerned themselves with missing socks and skinned knees and my phone battery dying with no place to charge it.”

“I should be happier also, but the world is what it is,” Thor said. This time, his hand fell naturally on Loki’s belly and he rubbed it absentmindedly. The warmth of that touch made Loki feel a hundred times better. “Know that, whatever happens on our trip, I will be here to take care of you.”

“I thought I was to cheer you up,” Loki said although he found he could not protest too vehemently. “I was to tell you a story.”

When he punctuated this statement with a yawn, Thor laughed.

“So tell it,” Thor said, “and if you fall asleep, you may finish it in the morning.”

“I am not sure I wish to tell a story about moving pictures any longer,” Loki said, tucking one arm behind his head, “especially not horror plays. Oh! I shall tell you about the time we were banned from the public park because Thori broke his leash – I swear no one died or even got hurt although a monument suffered severe sootery, which I did scrub off myself, thank you very much – and we had to chase him all over town…”

It had been a terrible night, but Loki was warm, and fed, and petted. For now, he thought, he would be content.

Chapter Text

Under the bed, Ikol hopped around until he found a deeper shadow and forced his way out of reality. He half-expected to be met and was not sure whether he was relieved or annoyed when he was not. A bit of searching and he found a quiet place where Loki’s voice floated through, telling stories about Thori and Broxton and Leah and milkshakes and all manner of things that were good – relatively – and bright.

“What the Hel was all that about?” he demanded.

The shadows shifted slowly, languidly.

Hmm? All of what? The lesson? The threat? one of them said.

“The beast. Did you send it?” Ikol asked it.

I might have mentioned that the sons of Asgard were in town, it admitted. There is really no controlling what a player will do from there. Draw lines on the stage if you want, it only works if the players follow them.

“This is not what I asked for.”

Think of me. I ordered cold-blooded deceit and spirit death. Now, instead of a nice, respectable heart-attack victim to be found and dismissed, I’ve a charred, half-human monster to take care of. I fucking hate clean up work.

“Loki is not all that he was,” Ikol said sourly. “He would never consider a…permanent solution to a problem he could dodge around.”

No. It seems that is too direct, the shadow mused. He must have something to out-think.

“He certainly did that,” Ikol said.

The shadow ignored his snide remark. So he did. Regardless, this is not a playground. The threat stands.

Ikol hunkered down, steeling himself for what would come next. “Challenges are good, but avoid overwhelming him.”

If you wanted fluff, you could have spoken to any number of us. You spoke to me.

“Don’t overdo it is all I ask,” Ikol said, preening a little to appear nonchalant. “Did you kill the girl?”

Ikol, the shadow whispered reasonably. You can’t kill what was never alive.

“Do not harm him,” Ikol ordered. “I will have him in one piece. Now, let me out. I will leave through your shadow. I will not—”

The magpie squawked and thrashed as dark tendrils slipped around him and squeezed tightly.

Be exempt? the shadow finished. No, you will not. If you want to keep your boy safe, rein him in. It was you who taught him the short-cuts although I see why you might; they are things you have used in your past. However, those who abuse them will suffer. This is not my edict, this is fact. Understand?

The shadow eased its grip and Ikol fought his way out of it. Fluttering away a pace, he stopped to preen his ruffled feathers.

“Perfectly,” he said, not bothering to hide his bitterness.

The shadow drew back and a deeper well opened within it.

Good, it said. Now you may leave.

Ikol did so and did not look back.