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Mother, I know my words deeply wounded you the last time we spoke. Usually you come at least once every fortnight and Judging by the length since your last visit, I realize you must hesitate to come back because of my anger and my my anger. I know you have the means to look into my cell without revealing yourself to me because you taught me those spells yourself and. If you do not wish to speak to me in person, at least read my words. I would much prefer to apologize face-to-face – or rather, face to illusion –, just as I would prefer not to deface the books you brought me in writing to you, but there is no other parchment available. I thank you for the quill and ink, though If you are seeing this, know that I apologize for my parting words last time you were here. I did not mean them, and if there were any way to reverse the days and take them back, I would. Please, you are my mother. I should never had said otherwise.

I hope you visit soon

Would you have me apologize again? I will, and you know I do not apologize often, so. I am sorry for saying that you were not mother, because you always were and are, in everything but blood.

Do you think I am not sincere? If you only came down here then I know all most the realm believes every word out of my mouth – or quill – to be a lie, but I promise you, Mother, this is not. I am truly sorry.

Is this punishment for speaking to you so? You are not usually the one to think up such punishments. That's usually Odin's It's been nearly a month and a half, how much longer will you stay away? Have you stopped How often do you wish me to apologize?

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry.

Mother, please, if this is punishment, at least tell me what it is for. Is it for Midgard? For everything since the day Thor failed to take the throne? For everything I've said to you in this cell?

Because if this is just for the punishment Odin meted out, then why did you even come in the first place? What was the point? To see if I truly wasn't

Do you even care

I think I've figured it out. This is for saying Odin is not my father. And for saying Thor isn't my brother as well? You wish me to say that they are my family as much as you are.

But Odin won't acknowledge it, so why should I? Besides, you know just as well as I do that Thor has yet to come down here once, and unlike you, he wasn't forbidden

If Thor truly saw me as brother

Thor simply

I think that after everything I've done, Thor doesn't

On Midgard, Thor would not cease asking if our past meant

Do you know why it hurt, when Thor didn't come? I kept expecting him to show after bleating on and on about our “brotherhood” on Midgard, and then

I kept expecting Thor to show after everything he had said on Midgard, after he sought to remind me again and again about our past, as if it made a difference now.

But if any of Thor's claimants of brotherhood were indeed true, he would have come by now, instead handing me off like chattel, bound and gagged, to Odin's guards before cavorting off to celebrate his wondrous victory with friends.

Unless he finally saw the truth, just as I did, and realized that it doesn't matter, now that we both know what I

So, even if I wished to acknowledge him as my brother, what would be the point if he has no wish to acknowledge me as his? How would you expect me to argue that I've changed my mind about our “brotherhood”? Shall I speak to one of the walls? Or maybe the guards – but I know they're not allowed to speak with prisoners unless under orders. We only had enough lessons on that when Odin brought us down here for One has to have a sibling in order to be a brother, so I don't see how calling Thor mine would change anything. Just as Thor declaring it on Midgard changed nothing.

Because there was never anything, just the lies you told us.

And now I know that Thor hasn't had a change of heart, and decided we are brothers once more; if he had, you would have appeared here as soon as you had read my message and told me I was wrong. You would have told me that Thor needs me as much as I need  to be a “family” again. And you wouldn't have stopped until you had convinced me to change my mind as well.

Unless you're trying to make Thor change his mind first. Perhaps you think he'll be easier to persuade...

Or unless this is part of your condition. That I have to acknowledge it first, and then you'll come.

Or just that I have to acknowledge it at all.

Is this a test, then? Although it was Odin who was always so fond of those, all those little unspoken rules that I invariably seemed to fail, but Thor. Are you trying to decide if I'm worthy of speaking to you, if only I admit to this?

Although of course Thor is worthy, no matter what he believes.

Could you at least tell me if I'm right?

No, of course you can't, that would ruin the test.

Thor is 

I always thought that Thor would

He spoke of our shared past and I remember, but does that really matter when you all know what I am–

But I know what you would say if you were here. You would say that you are not my mother by blood either, and yet I've spent the past months convincing you that you still are.

And yet you have always acted like it, whereas Thor, long before he knew what I was, never treated me like a proper brother. I was only ever his little tag-along shadow, meant to trail behind him, to know my place. I was just an extension of him, a prop, so he could look all the better when standing next to me, and nothing more.

If you were here you would argue with me, though. You would tell me of all the times in our youth, when he actually seemed to care about me, when he helped me and protected me, and when I showed him my magic he would be proud of me, instead of disdainful of my little “tricks”. Before the rest of his friends came along, and he decided I wasn't good enough for the rest of them. That I wasn't good enough for him.

Although I know exactly what you would say to that. You would say that we had some of our best adventures in those years, adventures grander than creeping off to the kitchens or sneaking out of the palace. Adventures with the rest of them, or adventures when we were alone, just the two of us.

Does it make up for all the times that he

You would say that I always saw him as a brother then, no matter what happened between us, when I thought we shared blood.

(I've been trying to think about what you would say, because I think that's what you want me to do.)

Does it really matter, if he won't come?

Does it matter if you won't?

You are my mother, not because of our blood, but because of our past.

Fine.

Thor is my brother.

I hope you're

I was going to ask you why you still wouldn't come, but I remembered you still had one more rule. You want me to take back my words about Odin not being my father.

Fine.

Odin is–

I will not say that that man is my father. I cannot.

Please, Mother, I can admit that Thor is my brother. Even on Midgard, there were times I wished to call him my brother. With the Chitauri I

Thor is my brother.

But I will not say that Odin is my father.

Do you know what Odin said after you left the throne room during my sentencing? That if it were not for you, he would have me executed.

And you want me to call him “Father”?

I might as well call Laufey my father. Wanting me dead is something they have in common already.

I wish Odin had

Did Odin tell you what happened on the Bifrost? I doubt it. If you heard any of the truth it would be from Thor, because Norns forbid if Odin ever admit .

Did Thor tell you what Odin said? Did he – did Odin and Thor say that I fell? That it must have been an accident?

If you know what truly happened, then why do you wish me call him father when he does not care?

He told me no. And then he watched.

It was Odin, wasn't it? He found out what you were doing, that you were visiting me, didn't he? All this useless babbling into your books' margins and it was all his fault, he forbade you to come.

Did he put more wards around my cell? Or was it something he did on your end? Of course, you'll answer when you find a way around him. You always have. It's been nearly four months, but I know it won't take you much longer. I don't know if you can see this, or if he blocked your vision entirely (although I do not believe he would be that cruel to you - just to me ), but please, speak to me as soon as you can. Order one of the guards to send me a message, or one of your ladies-in-waiting, anything, please.

Anything, a word, would be enough.

Or a sign.

Anything.

Please

...

Please.

...

Please

...

...

Was I wrong, then? Did you take my words to heart, and decide to let me be? Because I swear to you, by the Norns, by Yggdrasil, by my life, that I did not mean them.

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry.

I'm not lying. I am sorry. I am sorry I hurt us you us with my ill-intentioned words. It's been over eight months now. Are you going to wait a year?

I've read all your books. I never thanked you for giving them to me. I apologize for my complaints; they were unnecessary and needlessly ungrateful, and the books were of interest to  gave me something to were enjoyable.

I even liked the one by the mortal man. He seemed intelligent for a human, especially for one that lived a few centuries ago.

...

I've read them all twice now.

There's not much else to do here.

Would you like to talk about them? I know you picked each of them out for a reason, and I've been trying to figure out why. Do you not want to come and see if I've discovered your intent?

Will you not come until I learn from my actions? Is that it? Is that what you want

Mother, I am sorry for my actions against Midgard even though they are  although they still  but can you really argue that they, and any actions I've taken against Thor. Thor is  Thor cannot  If Thor It was wrong of me to hurt him.

I didn't mean those apologies.

You probably knew that.

Is that why you won't

Has Odin ever apologized for anything after he has done wrong? Has he ever begged on his knees for forgiveness after slaughtering Jotun after Jotun, or when he had the mortals bow and scrape and build temples in his honour and his greatness? How about when the mortals slaughtered and sacrificed each other in his name?

But of course, we are not meant to interfere with their pitiful lives, are we? So why should the all-knowing Allfather ever feel guilty if a band of filthy mortals butchers another and offers them up to him?

How about after the war with Vanaheim? With your home? Did you hear one word of apology from him then?

And yet you still see him every day. You still talk with him, take his hands, listen to him. Him and Thor, you speak with both of them, no matter what they've done, no matter what crimes they committed or how arrogant they act, you still speak with them and hold them as you won't with me because I'm a

I apologize for mentioning Vanaheim. It was uncouth of me. I just wanted to show you that

I'm sorry.

Do you not care? Is that why you don't come?

Have you stopped caring about me?

Did you stop lov

Please, please, just tell me what this is for. What changed your mind after all these months? I swore to you those last words were not true. They could never be true, Please, why did you stop? Just tell me so I know. I just want to know if you still I just want to know.

I miss you.

They changed two pairs of guards today. They must not like doing the same endless prison rounds. The same walls. The same prisoners.

Or prisoner, I suppose.

Did you know that all the other cells are empty? Most of them were cleared after that creature broke out of its cell about eighteen months ago when you last visited. I'm not sure where the remaining prisoners have gone. Maybe they served their sentences. Or maybe they were executed.

What happened that day? It is not often that Thor would lend his efforts to halt a prison break. I had thought it might be on my behalf, yet when he arrived he did not even bother to look at 

I can count the paces from wall to wall. From corner to corner. It's 10 normal paces from one wall to the other, once I move the furniture out of the way. About fourteen for the corners, though I cannot get close enough to the gold partition to judge properly.

The white is tiring. It never gets dark in here. The light is too bright, and the gold never stops shimmering, like a film or a screen over life outside. The dark outside. The movement outside.

Sometimes I think I see flickers of colour on the walls, on the floor. Things that aren't white.

Yesterday, I thought I saw a splotch of pink, like the stain of jam Thor and I made when we stole those pies from the kitchens, but tripped and dropped them once we reached our rooms.

Thor told you he tripped and knocked me over. I was the one who tripped, and Thor dropped the pies to catch me. I thought I should tell you

I tried to recreated the pink, with an illusion against the walls. It didn't look right, though. It was much too white.

If it weren't for the furniture you brought me, I'd think the whole world had gone white. And gold.

Instead it's white and gold and green and black.

Will you take the furniture away? Now that you've stopped–

I try not to look at the white sometimes. I try to just look at the furniture, or the gold, but there's too much of the white.

It's getting harder to remember other colours.

I don't know if the white is better than what it used to be. It was only black in the Void.

It's not just the colours, you know. It started even when you were coming, a few months before you stopped before I started writing. Little things. But you helped chase them away. I didn't tell you then. I should have. There are shapes, more dots of colour. Faces, sometimes, against the white.

Now that you're gone, it's worse.

Yesterday I thought I saw Thor. Just out of the corner of my eye. He was walking past the cell, outside of the gold. When I turned my head to look, he was gone. Nothing was there. Not even the guards were walking past, or an another prisoner. There haven't been other prisoners in a long time.

Of course Thor didn't come.

I'm just seeing things.

Sometimes it feels as though the world beyond the cell doesn't exist. As if the space beyond it, the guards walking back and forth, are just illusions painted on the glittering gold. And this cell is all there is.

Except when the food arrives, that is. But even that arrives by magic.

At least I know there are kitchens out there somewhere.

I don't usually eat much of the food, though. I'm not very hungry.

I've memorized the books, so I don't regret writing on them now. I could even recite them all by heart, if I wanted.

If you wanted to hear.

When I was I used to make sure I knew everything about anything that went on in the palace Asgard, or any snippet from the rest of the realms. I used to know everything. I could have told you which dresses Freya would wear to the Yule celebrations, and which realm her suitor would be from. I could have told you rumours from the Alfheim court and which ones were probably true. Or which rumours about our own councillors were true.

Now I don't know if there's anything beyond this box.

Sometimes I think the guards walk quietly on purpose, so that I can't hear them.

Or maybe my cell is too loud.

I think I've started talking to myself. It's hard to tell if it's in my head or not.

But my throat hurts, so I must have been talking.

Or maybe it hurts from not using it.

It's too quiet in here.

Like the Void

...

I miss Thor

I miss Thor.

I don't miss Odin. But I wish that he 

I wonder when Odin stopped caring about me as well. I know I was only a tool to him from the start – that much is obvious now. But I wonder when he realized I could no longer suit his purposes.

Would you have told me when, if you knew? Or would you have kept the lie going, in case you thought it would help me?

Did you want to help me?

I don't know why I keep asking question. I know you will not answer.

I know you have stopped reading my words.

I know you have not read them for a while.

When did you stop? Was it last month? Last year? Or over three years ago, when I saw you for the last time? Did you even start reading at all? Did you stop caring when I said those last words?

I know that if you cared you would have sent a sign by now.

Or you never cared at all.

...

...

No, I know what this is.

It was all lies, wasn't it? Every visit, every kind word out of your mouth, every worried look, it was all false. You weren't doing it out of love. Odin put you up to it, didn't he? He claimed you would never see me again, then let in your illusions as puerile little tests – he was always fond of those, where you never knew if you were being evaluated or not. They must have grown on you too, if you went along with it so frequently and so convincingly. It was all a test, to see if you could have your weak, whining, bowing and scraping pawn of a false-son back. To see if there were any more uses you had for me.

And when I failed, you stopped. You all stopped.

Everyone stopped long ago.

Did you even start visiting at all, I wonder? Or did I imagine it? For my comfort, did I pretend that you came?

How soon did I go mad?

Although I suppose I already know the answer to that. I went mad the day of Thor's coronation, the day Odin fell into his Sleep. The day I found out you both lied to me. A year before you locked me up in here, where you all think I belong.

Over four years is a long time to be mad.

And over a thousand years is a long time to lie.

I applaud you and the Allfather for your persistence, though. You did very well with both of those lies: the lie about my skin, the lie about your “love”.

Was it difficult to pretend you cared about me? I know the Allfather found it near-impossible – he could barely keep up the facade. It must have been a relief for him to drop it. But you, you had me convinced. How much did it disgust you, to come down here and speak to me? How much did it revolt you all those years to hold me in your arms, to dry my tears, to tell me you loved me?

Only Thor's love was ever true. And now I don't even have that.

I don't even know why I'm writing this. It's not as if there's anyone there to read it. Here I've sat for the last few years, writing to myself. Pretending.

I must be truly pathetic, to have lied to myself for so long.

...

...

...

You 

...

I told myself I would stop writing in here. It's pitiful, hoping that you'll read it.

But when I stopped writing, the visions the hallucinations grow worse.

They have been worse for a while.

I thought I was talking to Thor today. I thought he had come and I couldn't tell if I was happy or angry but I was talking to him until I realized I didn't remember how he had gotten into my cell. I didn't remember him arriving. He was just there, and so I had started talking.

When I realized that, he disappeared.

I told myself I would stop writing, but there's nothing else to do. I feel like my mind is closing in, shrinking. There's a blanket over my thoughts. I've forgotten what other voices sound like. I've started forgetting words. I've started forgetting spells.

I think this is Odin's true punishment.

And yours.

How vindictive must you be, to punish me with hope?

But you aren't vindictive. You aren't spiteful. I have never seen you punish with such cruelty; you were the one always softening Odin's punishments, his brand of “justice”, whether in the throne room or in one of our rooms.

You must have a reason.

It's hard to think in here. It's hard to think, but I can't stop or it will only get harder. I'll forget.

I'm forgetting too much already.

Punishment on behalf of your true son? For hurting him? For killing him in his mortal body?

You were always fierce about keeping us safe from harm, about protecting us, and I know more than once you have gotten vengeance for us, in small ways, on someone that hurt one of us.

Or I think you did. You must have. Once, at least.

And now you want me to hurt for hurting Thor.

It seems you've found a suitable revenge.

...

Why didn't you just let Odin kill me and be done with it?

Or did you think that was not enough?

I wish you had let him kill me.

But he probably agreed with you that this is worse.

I wish I had died in the Void. It's not as if there was any point to me living afterwards.

To me living now.

It would have been over quicker.

And you all would have been happier.

Everyone would have been.

...

...

Only...how could this be a punishment for Thor if you barely mentioned him? I don't remember you talking about him, and those conversations are the clearest. I remember them. It was always “your father this” and “your father that”, but not “your brother”. If this was about Thor, you would have left some clue, so I would know why I was being punished; it wouldn't be a decent revenge otherwise. And this certainly isn't for Odin, because I didn't do anything to him.

Your punishments are usually supposed to teach. So this has to be about something else.

Something else, what else? There's so much else, so much I've done, is this for just one of them? All of them?

What if I've forgotten one of them? What if you're punishing me for something I can't remember?

Midgard. This is about Midgard. You talked about Midgard almost as much as you talked about Odin, so this has to be about Midgard. And this isn't about vengeance, either. You may not have been pleased about the destruction, it was hardly personal enough for this.

It's pain for a different reason.

It would be easier to think if it wasn't so bright all the time.

It's too loud. I can't hear a thing.

Punishment. I have to keep writing about it or I'll forget. I'm forgetting things more and more and I can't remember–

You are hurting me for a reason. You are gone for a reason. You left for a reason. Not for Thor, not for Odin, but for Midgard. For the mortals?

I don't know. I don't know, I–

I can't remember your face. I can't remember Thor's.

When I see you, the two of you, your faces are always fuzzy. Indistinct. I can't see. If I look at you out of the corner of my eyes it's better because I can nearly see you then. But when try to look at you it's worse.

I wish Odin's face was not so clear.

But at least he normally stays outside of the gold.

You are hurting me for a reason.

You are teaching me a lesson by being gone. For the mortals.

Not for the dead, but for the ones who live.

That's it, isn't it?

For the ones who live, that lost someone. Because the ones who live can't speak to them anymore, can't see them, can't hear them, can't feel their touch. They're gone.

You are gone to show me how it hurts when they lose someone.

But mortals lives last only a few decades – barely a hundred years. You can't expect it to compare to our–

...

I–

How long has it been? Six years?

Nearly as long as it's been for the humans. One extra year for them.

And I missed you only minutes after you left.

I've missed you for all this time.

I've missed Thor for all that time.

It hurts–

Will you be gone for as long as one of their lives? Will you wait a nearly a hundred year? Or will you do as Odin commanded and never see me again?

Do you even want to see me again?

It hurts. This hurts, everything hurts, everything has hurt since before I fell and I wanted it to stop–

Eight years since I fell and six years since you stopped coming. Eight years since it began hurting too much. Eight years is well within a mortal lifetime.

That's what you're showing me. That even in what little time the mortals have, it still hurts.

Maybe they have it lucky. It will be over sooner for them. Everything ends sooner for them. The pain doesn't have to last as long.

Are you punishing me for every one of the lives lost, every one of the mortals left behind?

That might fill up the rest of my life.

I won't last even a mortal lifetime in here. My mind won't.

I can almost feel it, as it leaves me, as it slips through my fingers.

I try to write when more of it is there, but it keeps leaving and it's so hard to think.

...

I want to talk to you.

I want to talk to Thor.

I would only scream at Odin.

I just wanted him to love me like he loved Thor.

I wish he had told me sooner that he couldn't.

...

Death, that's it, you're trying to show me what it's like to be surrounded by death. No one else, no living thing, just the guards going back and forth across the gold, like paintings, like that book Thor used to love, the one painted in gold with that one page that showed the warriors marching across the ice, spears held high like with the guards, helmets gleaming.

I bring ruin and death wherever I go, isn't that what Odin said?

I bring pain.

I can only make people hurt, even if I don't mean to.

I wonder if it hurts more for mortals, since their lives are so short. If they have to feel more because they have so little time to do it, so they have to make every moment count.

I can't imagine anything hurting more than this.

You would all be right for thinking me a monster, though. If this is the kind of pain I bring, then of course I'm a monster.

If the pain of losing you is the pain I brought to others a hundred times over, even if for only fifty years, even if for only these short years, I can hardly be anything but one.

I deserve to die.

Or maybe I deserve this more.

...

I think...

I think I am sorry about Midgard.

I am sorry about Thor too. About hurting him. I think I have been sorry about him for a long time. I don't remember when that guilt started.

It may have always been there.

I miss him.

I miss you.

But I know why none of you want to talk to a monster. Why you would rather not be in the same room with one.

I know why you won't visit me.

...

I miss the wind. And the sun. And shade.

...

I miss colours. Colours that aren't white and green and gold and black.

...

I miss blue. Not Jotun-cold-blue, but sky-blue. Like Thor-blue.

I can't get Thor's eyes right any more.

...

I miss red.

They took away the mirror, or what was left of it. Which was fine; I haven't used since you gave it to me. But I wanted to see red, and this was the easiest way.

It was only my hand, and my wrist. They didn't need to be so angry about it.

I thought about putting a piece through my neck, but I was too busy looking at the colour. The guards were there before I was finished looking, and it was so vivid, so beautiful, like the colour of Thor's cape but darker when it welled up against my skin. It looked better on the white floor. Brighter.

They put me to sleep, when they took the shards away, and when the Healer came. Probably so I wouldn't escape, or attack them.

I wish they hadn't. I would have liked to talk with them.

I only wanted to see red. I wanted to see my skin split and spill it out.

And it felt so good.

I don't know if I deserved that either.

Probably not.

I had forgotten the guards could do that, though. That they can come in. They only stay on the other side of the gold. I had forgotten.

...

Illusions are about the only thing I remember how to do anymore, did you know? Because I keep trying to make them, even though none of them are right anymore. I can't get the faces or the colours right. I could probably make a good one of myself, but I don't see the point. There's already enough of me.

Everything else has slipped away. Like water in cupped hands. I try to keep it but it drains out and I can't stop it.

I don't blame you for not coming down here anymore. You are right not to.

You are right about deciding not to be my mother. If you ever were.

You are right not to love me.

You aren't reading this, but I wanted to write that down anyway.

No one is reading this.

They'll probably burn them all, when I die.

No one will read this.

...

I am tired.

...

...

..

..

..

.

I thought I saw you today, the three of you. You and Thor and Odin. Normally it's only one or two of you, not all three.

I don't like it when it's all three. It hurts.

It makes me wish. And remember. But there's no point in wishing. And it's hard to remember.

It hurts.

First you came, appearing in my cell as you always did. I thought you really had come, because it couldn't be a dream or a hallucination, because I could see your face so clearly, not the imitations that I usually see, with faces like a child's doll, or like seeing you through frosted glass. You stood over my bed then knelt, until your face was level with mine. I was afraid to touch you, because then you might disappear, like last time.

I told you I was sorry. For hurting you and Thor and Midgard. Sorry for everything. I liked the books you gave me. I memorized them, did you know? I'm sorry for writing in them. Have you read what I've written? Are you reading this now? I would like if you were reading this now, because you didn't answer my questions.

You didn't say anything. You just looked sad.

I thought I knew you had truly come then. You haven't looked at me like that for years, even if I use my magic. I can't make you look sad anymore.

I don't remember when Thor arrived. I was talking to you and he was there, beside you. But his face wasn't as clear as yours. I couldn't see his expression, because I can't get his face right in my head. Memories.

I wish his face had been clearer, because I'm forgetting the blue. His eyes. His hair doesn't look right either. Too white.

I liked his cape though. It looked more red than normal. I haven't seen a red like that in...in a...for...in a while.

Neither of you said anything, no matter how much I spoke. Not even when Odin came. He stayed outside the gold, and his face was a clear as yours. But he didn't look sad. He looked strange. It frightened me. I wanted you and Thor to help me, but you left and so did Odin.

Were you really there? I can't tell anymore.

Could you tell me?

...

Was I right about why you wouldn't come?

...

Will you come more after this?

No, no you won't, of course you won't. You know what I am. You have no reason to come.

I'm glad you came at first though. I'm glad you tried to love as long as you did. Or at least pretended to.

...

It must have been easier, having never seen my real skin. It must have been easier for you to pretend, since you never saw me looking like a monster. Maybe that was why Odin could never lie as well as you. He knew what was under this skin.

Is that why you stopped coming as well? Because he showed you what I really look like?

I'm sorry. I'm sorry you had to see that. But maybe it was for the best.

Sometimes I think I see it too. My flesh being stripped away, until only the Jotun skin remains. I don't know if I'm dreaming or imagining it or if it really happens. I wish it would stop.

...

I don't understand why Odin was so upset about Jotunheim on the bridge, though. He didn't mention in among my crimes before he sentenced me. No one has mentioned it since I let go. Not him, not you, not Thor.

I thought it was important when I let go. But none of you said anything.

Was it because of the Bifrost? Was he upset that Thor had to destroy it to make it stop?

Or was it the way I did it? Would he have preferred a war?

I thought he didn't want a war.

I don't understand. Why was it so important?

Why did Father tell me no?

I called him “Father”. I didn't mean to do that.

I forgot.

I don't think it matters now.

...

I am tired.

I don't understand.

There's so much I don't understand but no one explains it to me, they just expect me to know.

...

I'm tired.

...

...

I wish I had something to cut my hair with. It's too long.

Although I think I would slit my throat with it first.

Will you come back?

Did you come at all?

They took away the table and stool. I tried to break them up into something sharper. I thought the table's legs might work, if I positioned them right, although I was worried I wouldn't be strong enough any more. I'm tired.

They took them away before I was done.

...

I wish I had died in the Void.

...

I wish Odin hadn't picked me up.

...

I'm tired.

...

...

I won't be able to talk to you any more. I found out that the ink is beginning to dry up, because there's less of it now. I think the spell you put on it is wearing off, the spell to keep it full.

I'm sorry, I should have told you sooner. I should have noticed sooner.

I don't know if I...

I'm too tired to put another spell on it.

I don't know if I remember how.

I don't want to keep writing.

I'm tired.

I love you. If you never loved me, I understand. I wouldn't love me either

* * *

Chapter Text

* * *

Thor didn't know Loki was not told.

*

With Volstagg preoccupying the guards and Hogun distracting Father with “business” concerning Vanaheim, Thor, Jane, and Sif managed to escape in the Dark Elf, the only trouble being figuring out how to make it fly. Thor could only be thankful Hogun had decided to return to Asgard before the Dark Elves attacked, else he would have been forced to think of riskier plans to keep his home and Jane safe.

Once out over the water, it had been a simple matter for the three of them to drop into Fandral's skiff, before he took care of the warriors tailing them. Sif had flown the skiff the rest of the way to the Bifrost and the waiting Heimdall, with Heimdall's Sight allowing him to open the Bifrost in time for the skiff to slide into the opening without losing an ounce of speed. They made it through as they heard hoof-beats clattering down the bridge, and Thor knew Heimdall would hold them off long enough for their trail to be lost.

Heimdall must have done his job well, for by the time Thor, Jane, and Sif spotted the Dark Elves, no Æsir had appeared to drag them back to Asgard. With determination, fear, and rage churning in his gut as he surveyed the Dark Elves – as he saw the two that had murdered his mother – Thor knew it was time to continue with the rest of the plan, and pray to the Norns that it worked.

It had not.

Sif was not pleased to have to play the jealous lover, who would betray her kingdom and allow the destruction the realms out of spite, but she played the part well; well enough that Malekith believed it, at least. It was the only part of the plan that went smoothly.

The Aether was not destroyed, and Malekith had escaped with its power running through his veins. And Thor could not stop him.

Just as he could not stop the Kursed.

Mother's vengeance was not his.

It was Sif's. Only after taking nearly as bad a beating as Thor, she had attached the Dark Elf grenade to the creature's belt, and together they watched as the Kursed implode into nothingness.

Mother's vengeance was not his. But that did not mean Thor couldn't kill the creature that had started it all. The one who had ordered her murder.

And Thor had succeeded, but not without a cost to himself.

He had recovered on Midgard for weeks, and had spent most of it unconscious. Jane told him Father had visited before taking Sif back to Asgard, and that he had woken not long after that. Thor wondered why Father had not taken him back as well, but when Father visited him again as he was still regaining his strength, Thor did not ask. He forgot as soon Father offered to begin preparing for Thor's coronation again. And this this time there would be no interruptions.

(Father did not mention who would interrupt.)

Yet Thor refused. He had seen what the cost of ruling had on his father, and Thor knew he could never make those same choice. Asgard did not need him, with Father on the throne, and Mother...

With memories of Mother throughout the palace, he wished only to stay away.

He remembered how it had been for that year after Loki had fallen (let go). He remembered how it was even with Loki in the dungeons, when his brother might as well have still been lost, for all the man in the cell resembled him Now, with both of them gone...It would be too much.

He decided it was best to stay on Midgard, while the wounds of his body and his soul healed.

He stayed with Jane, eventually moving in with the Avengers to defeat the enemies that threatened the safety of Midgard. And those enemies were numerous, from an automaton Stark had accidentally created, to a human who could manipulate molecules with his mind, to a time-travelling world-conquering despot, to a mad-man in a country name Latveria, who they joined up with a team calling themselves “The Fantastic Four” to defeat.

For years, Thor was kept occupied defending Midgard from various super-powered humans, aliens, and robots alike. For years, Thor needed not come home unless the Odinsleep struck, as was becoming more frequent. Then Thor had to return to Asgard for a few days, to act as regent in his father's stead.

Because he was the only one of the royal family who could.

It was in those few days where Loki crossed his mind the most.

For the first few times Thor took the throne, it was anger that kept him from visiting Loki's cell. After all the pain Loki had caused, to Asgard, to Midgard, to Jotunheim, to his family, Loki deserved his sentence. He had shown he did not want Thor's love nor his brotherhood, so why should Thor throw himself at Loki's feet and wait to be hurt again?

(Yet in the back of his mind there was the guilt that Loki had always held Mother's love close. That while Thor had friends and Father in his grief, Loki had no one.)

In the later years, Thor's anger faded, replaced by the guilt that it had been too long, that any amends Thor might have made should have been done long ago.

(He missed his brother.)

And yet it was not the guilt that kept him away, but the fear. The gnawing dread that if Thor dared visit, he would find that nothing had changed. That Loki was truly gone. That Mother's death had meant nothing to the man wearing his brother's face. And if Thor heard that man spitting vitriol and hatred about Mother, using Loki's mouth and Loki's tongue but not Loki's heart, if he saw those-once calm green eyes wild and gleaming with madness...Thor did not know what he might do. But he did not want that memory of his brother to be embedded in his mind. Those few days on Midgard were enough.

The guilt Thor tried to push aside, to avoid, to forget. And as he tried to push the guilt away, he pushed thoughts of Loki away as well.

Besides, if Loki had changed, or if something happened to him, Father would tell him. Thor need not bother checking up on him, if Father was doing it for him.

*

Eventually, nearly fifteen years after Thor decided to stay on Midgard, Odin stepped down from the throne. He was not dead, simply weary, and wished Thor to take it so Odin could guide him before his death. Thor bid his farewells to his friends in Midgard, kissed Jane's hand farewell (they had parted as lovers long ago, yet still remained close), and offered Lady Sif his place on the Avengers instead. She was quite pleased to accept.

Returning to the palace was not as painful as it used to be. Fifteen years may only be an eye-blink to the gods, but it was enough time for the edges of loss to soften, to fade.

Enough time for other pains to fade.

It was after a few months on the throne that Thor first thought of looking in on Loki; not going down to the dungeons to look, but using the Hliðskjálf's far-sight, which worked much the same as Heimdall's gaze, so there would be no need to face Loki's spite if he did not have to. It was another few weeks until Thor actually did so, searching for the perfect time, where he could brace himself for what he might find.

At last, one night, after dismissing the guards so he was alone, Thor cast his gaze to his brother's cell.

The first thing he saw was Loki, too thin, too pale, too gaunt, too still. He was laying on the bed, eyes open, staring at nothing. For a heart-stopping moment, Thor feared the worst, until he caught the rise and fall of Loki's chest.

Thor waited for Loki to do something. To give some indication of the man he was now. To show whether visiting would be a boon or a folly. As he waited, his eyes roamed around the cell.

It did not take long until he noticed the books, each carefully placed along one side of the cell. Nor did it take long to see the scribbles in the sidelines, the pages held open with scraps of clothes, of paper, with magic even in a couple of the books.

Thor read.

Note by note, page by page, until he reached the end.

Loki had not twitched once as Thor read. Neither did Thor. His body felt frozen, carved into the throne.

By the time Thor could move his limbs again, when they felt strong enough to support his weight, he was out the throne room and striding down the hall, Mjolnir in hand and electricity crackling around his form.

The words came out of him in a roar as he burst into Odin's workroom, slamming the heavy doors against the woodwork.

“WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL HIM?”

“Hmmm?” Odin looked up from his notes, his quill paused mid-stroke, his eye staring questioningly at Thor from across his desk.

Thor stormed across the room, cape flying out behind him, Mjolnir humming in his grip. He stopped in front of the desk, looming over his father as thunder rumbled overhead. Voice a low growl, he bit out, “Why did you not tell Loki that Mother was dead? All these years, and you never told him.”

Odin stared up at him in surprise. Then he set the quill down and sighed. Calmly, unintimidated by Thor's fury, he folded his hands in front of him and said, “I did not see the need.”

Thor gaped at him. “What do you mean – She was his mother–” he spluttered. Out of all the answers he had expected, this was not one of them.

“So you think it better to tell him that his mother is dead?” Odin levelled a steady look at him, and Thor's jaw snapped shut, his thoughts in turmoil. If Loki knew Mother had died, then it might destroy him.

But Loki seemed destroyed anyway. Surely knowing would be better than this.

Wouldn't it be?

Before Thor could think of a response, Odin leaned back in the seat. Placidly, he said, “And I did not see the need, for he was not to know anything about her – nor about the rest of realms – ever since he was imprisoned.”

Thor gritted his teeth, another growl nearly escaping between his teeth. How long had Odin used that excuse to avoid telling Loki? How long had he spent justifying it?

(Would Odin need to justify it, if it was considered justice?)

Unable to answer the doubts in his mind, Thor switched tactics. “Then why didn't you tell me?” he demanded.

“About what?” Odin asked. His voice bordered on snappish now. “Loki not knowing?”

Thor shook his head. He knew why Odin hadn't told him that Loki didn't know. Because then Thor would have told Loki himself. “Not that. About Loki, about what he's written, about – about what he has tried to do to himself.” Father would have been told by the guards if Loki tried to injure himself.

And Thor could not believe that, for all these years, Father had not looked into Loki's cell once.

Then there were the other hints in Loki's notes. That Loki saw Father's face more clearly than anyone else's. Then the vision Loki had had of the three of them, where Mother's and Father's faces were more distinct; few others knew Mother's face so well, and fewer more the magic to conjure her. Though why he chosen that expression for her, and whether he had conjured Thor as well or if Loki had simply imagined him, Thor could not tell.

But he knew that Father had been to visit Loki. And had done nothing.

Frowning, Odin said, “You never asked about Loki. You did not seem interested – in Loki, or even Asgard while you were off with your mortals – so I saw not reason to tell you.”

A retort rose in Thor's throat, that of course he cared about Loki, about Asgard, and that he would hear no more of Odin's scorn for the mortals, scorn that he had been spouting since Thor decided to stay with them–

But Thor choked on those words before he could voice them as guilt rose in his throat.

Because Odin was right. All these years, and not once had Thor asked. Not once had he looked.

(He had been trying to forget.)

Thor felt himself backing up from the desk, and he half-turned away, looking towards the fire crackling at the far end of the room.

But he had thought...surely he had thought that Father would tell him if anything had happened. He had thought Father would tell him if something like this was going on. If Loki had changed.

Had Father truly thought that Thor did not care? That he would not be pleased to see that Loki had changed, or that he would not be worried about his madness, or about how he tried to hurt himself?

Was that how it had looked, when Thor had not asked? Or was Father only trying to deflect Thor's blame elsewhere?

It wouldn't have mattered, though, if only Thor had thought to look, or visit – how many times over the years had he born the brunt of Loki's scorn? Couldn't he have braced himself to brave it one more time, which would only make the lack of it all that more welcome?

But Thor could change that now. With Loki...not back to his old self, but at least no longer so hate-filled, Thor would visit, perhaps free him and–

A thought occurred to Thor, and he whirled back to face his father. “Why didn't you let him out?” Thor demanded, his voice breaking, but he didn't bother trying to hide it. Let his father know how he felt. “You've seen enough of his words. He's sorry, he understands. When I lost my worth, when you cast me to Midgard, you returned me my strength once I understood what I had done wrong, once I realized my folly. Why not Loki–”

“Because he hasn't.” Odin snapped, rising to his feet abruptly “Your sentences were not the same. When I cast you out, I sent down Mjolnir so you would one day return. Loki's sentence was to remain in that cell for the rest of his life without seeing Frigga again, although she broke that rule for him. And Loki doesn't 'understand'.” Father's voice turned mocking, sneering. “He's just realizing that actions have consequences, and he's sorry that now he feels his punishment.” He waved a hand dismissively. “Besides, if you've read what he's written, then you know he's not 'sorry' for everything. He doesn't feel a lick of guilt about Jotunheim, and he hasn't the sense to realize what he's done wrong.”

Thor felt his mouth opening and closing, like a fish out of water. What he was hearing – what Father was saying... He had seen Father in his rages when the Dark Elves returned, and on occasion throughout the last few years, but to hear it directed at Loki like this...

“How can you say that?” he asked, pain and confusion softening his voice from the anger he felt.

“Because it's true,” Odin said sharply. Thor waited for him to continue, but he only began shuffling his notes, tidying up his desk. A dismissal, Thor had learned over the years.

Sure enough, Odin began to say. “Now, Thor, if that's all you wished to– ”

“Is this about what he's said about you?”

Thor wasn't sure where that question came from, but his mind was scrambling for reasons, for an excuse for his father's words, the contempt in them, and that had been the first to enter his mind.

Odin looked up at him, anger briefly flitted across his face. It settled into annoyance as he said, “Do you really think me so petty?” Odin snorted, but did not wait for Thor's answer. “It matters not. Even if he was not serving his punishment for his crimes, he's too mad now to be let out anyway.”

That statement, said without preamble, without a hint of doubt, turned Thor's stomach. Yes, Loki was mad. He could see that clear enough. But keeping him locked up would not help him in the slightest. It would only eat away at what little sanity Loki had left.

“I am king,” Thor said, raising his chin to look down at his father. “If I wish him to be free, then I–”

“You've not even been king for a year,” Odin interrupted, and while his voice was flat there was disdain in his eye. “And while you may be king, I am still the Allfather. If I say Loki will carry out his sentence, then Loki will carry out his sentence.”

“And if I order him to be freed,” Thor shouted, “then the guards will obey me. If I tell him to be kept safe, then the guards will–”

“Would you wish to test that?” Odin said, voice not raised, but dangerously low. “Do you wish to see who commands more respect from Asgard's warriors?” He stared Thor down, his body radiating command, the same authority he had always radiated as king and father, and Thor could almost feel himself quailing under that look.

But Thor was no arrogant young man blustering his way forward in anger, nor a child caught sneaking out if his rooms at night. He had learnt much in his years since his banishment.

Such as that his father was not perfect, nor was he always right. That Odin made mistakes, just as any other man did. And right now, Thor knew his father was wrong. He couldn't understand why Odin was still so furious at Loki, after all these years, but he didn't need know now. He only needed to make his father see that he had made a mistake.

Thor leaned forward over the desk, flattening both palms on it's surface. “Is this what Mother would have wanted, Father?” he pleaded. “Is this how she would've have wanted you to treat her son–”

“Don't you dare speak to me of what she would have wanted. Not for him,” Odin spat, and Thor was brought short by the fury in Odin's eye. It was an anger Thor had not seen before, not even when Odin had banished Thor. “It is because of him that we don't know what she would have wanted.”

Odin copied Thor's lean and snarled, “It was him that lead that monster to your mother.”

The air seemed to disappear from Thor's lungs as his body froze. He stared at his father in horror, and yet he could already feel himself vehemently shaking his head. “No, no Loki–”

That didn't make any sense – Loki would never – Loki wasn't even there –

“Oh yes.” Odin seemed to speak the word with relish, even as bitterness shone from his eye. “I spoke to enough of the guards to figure it out. It was after that creature approached Loki, after they saw Loki speaking to it, that the creature decided not to fight its way out. No, instead it turned, and made its way up the warriors' staircase, the one that only someone highly familiar with Asgard would know. And the only person in the dungeons who would know that, who would stoop as low as to tell a creature like that the secrets of Asgard, was Loki.”

Odin spat the name like it was a curse, and Thor stumbled backwards as if he had been struck. What Father was saying...it made no sense. Not that Thor doubted Loki had spoken to the Kursed, or that Loki would have told the creature of the staircase.

But to have caused Mother's death...to have lead that creature to her...

(Loki loved her, he would never have hurt her–)

“The Kursed wasn't after Mother, it was after our shield and the Aether,” Thor argued, trying to show his father reason. “Malekith and the Kursed killed her for hiding the Aether, not for anything Loki would have said. Loki knew nothing–”

“And yet Loki only made it all that easier,” Odin growled. His face was twisted in rage, and Thor suddenly had a very good idea of why Loki was left alone all these years, forgotten, allowed to forget. “If it wasn't for him, your mother might still be alive today. Loki only reaps what he sows.”

Another plea came to Thor's mind – that out of all the people to be blamed, why just Loki? Why not Thor and Odin themselves, arriving only seconds too late, a guilt that Thor still carried in his heart today? And as much as Thor wished to keep Jane from Odin's wrath, as much as Thor had never and would never blame her, why did Odin not settle on Jane as the culprit, direct all his rage towards her if he was looking for a scapegoat?

Why not Mother herself, for facing Malekith and the Kursed on her own even though she knew what they were after? For not warning anyone, for not bringing more warriors with her that could have killed Malekith as soon as he dared go after Jane?

But Thor did not need to ask. He already knew the answer.

Odin blamed Loki because it was easy. Easier than allowing himself to feel guilt instead. Easier than directing his anger towards Mother.

It was easy, when Odin had someone to hate other than himself.

Thor drew himself up and, without another word, turned and left. Odin's voice stopped him half-way to the door.

“He is right about one thing, though.” Odin's voice was tired, but held enough strength that Thor could hear the cold, bitter, spite. “He deserves this.”

Thor clench his hand around Mjolnir's haft. The air hummed and crackled with his anger.

Then he let go. His hand fell to his side, and he walked out the doors.

He had to think. If his father was right. About all of it. About any of it. About none of it.

And if it made any difference.

It did not take Thor long to make up his mind.

*

For all those years, Thor didn't know Loki was not told. And Thor still did not tell him. He did not know if he was doing his brother a kindness or untold cruelty.

But Thor visited. He didn't know when Loki had stopped writing – the last time Loki had indicated a date was about nine years ago. An eye-blink for the gods. But enough time for Loki's mind to fade.

Enough that Thor did not know how much of his brother's mind was left.

But Thor talked. And after several desperate, despairing weeks where Thor's hope dwindled to near-nothing, Loki began to talk back. Although he also talked to the air, to the walls, to himself. Loki never seemed to realize that Thor was real.

With those visits, Thor did not know if he was doing himself a kindness or a cruelty.

But Thor vowed that, one day, Loki would be free. Not now, not while Father still held enough power to hurt Loki if he were ever released. But one day.

Thor only hoped that it was not too late.

* * *

Thank-you for the new ink-well and parchment, Mother. And the books. I'll memorize them like I did the rest. I wish you had woken me when you put them beside me. I would have liked to see your face again. Your real face, not the once that I usually see. I wanted to talk to you. I miss your voice.

But I'm getting better at remembering Thor. I can remember red as well, now. And blue. I thought I had forgotten.

I'll continue to write, if that's what you want.

I'll always know you're reading.

* * *