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Chapter Text

Despite all odds – all the court chatter, all the ominous lamentations of the Æsir nobles and all the warnings the Elders whispered in the confines of their secret meetings – Asgard didn’t immediately go up in flames under Loki’s rule.

In fact, the things continued pretty much undisturbed. The sunrises and sunsets happened on schedule, the water in the bay didn’t turn to tar and the sky remained blue and clear.

Loki filled the emptiness left by the departure of his friends with work and meetings and talks and planning and there were moments when he could even forget what he had lost to be in the position he was in.

It’s not a goodbye, Natasha had said and Loki held onto that notion. He could still make it work. They could make it work, together. But there were things that needed to be done first, as much as Loki yearned to just leave it all behind and slip down the hidden path and back to Earth. If he played it right, there would be days before the Æsir noticed his disappearance and months before they dared to do anything about it. They could be long gone by then…

It was all idle divagations though. Again, despite what the court might be claiming, Loki was never one to stray from responsibilities. He had a duty to Asgard now and he was going to fulfill it, no matter how much he hated it.

Thor stayed behind after the humans left and it was – a small, but still – a consolation, at least until he grew anxious and easy to anger and started spending most of his days hanging around the Observatory, bugging Heimdall about Jane Foster and what she was doing at any given time. He didn’t say anything to Loki, of course, he considered him frail and too weak to be able to face Asgard alone and was trying to spare him the harsh truth that his thoughts were with Foster, first and foremost.

Loki could sympathize, so after a few miserable days of pretending, he assigned his brother a mission that would take him exactly where he wanted to go, with a detour to Nidavellir to pick up some resources Tony would find useful in his bridge project.

There were some… proceedings that sadly needed to occur first as Thor was still officially banished.

The show they had arranged around Loki casting him out was quite believable, even though Thor was grinning like a fool through the whole vapid speech about laws and upholding traditions Loki had prepared, drawing inspiration from Odin’s edicts of old. Even Njal kept his mouth shut for the most of it, although Loki could see it came at a great effort. Loki had never been fond of the man and was now quickly growing to absolutely despise him. He was certain the feeling was mutual.

“If you need me, Heimdall will know where to find me,” Thor said, as Loki was accompanying him to the Observatory for his last – at least in theory – journey out of Asgard.

Thor could not be granted a horse ride, as he was technically being ousted – which didn’t seem to bother the people who gathered on the streets to say their farewells – so they walked. Loki didn’t mind. Sleipnir despised him just as much as its previous owner did, snapping its impressive teeth at Loki’s hand the moment he tried to come close, to the point that Loki began to think it might indeed be his offspring in some convoluted, metaphorical way.

“If I need you, I’m fully capable of finding you myself,” Loki said matter-of-factly. “I have found a few loopholes we could use if you wanted to stay, too, but I presume that's not the case.”

“You’re as sharp as always, brother,” Thor said with a grin and a bow of his head.

Loki narrowly avoided rolling his eyes at Thor and only smiled back.

Thor’s heartfelt embrace that followed was about as embarrassing and just as detrimental to the state of his ribs – which he’d had to rebreak the other night to finally get them to heal into proper shape – as he remembered from his childhood and the clap on the back was strong enough to rattle Loki’s bones.

Then Thor turned on his heel and walked into the Observatory. He was positively beaming.

Loki remained on the bridge, staring into the void, long after the Bifrost swept Thor away and the dome ceased movement and ground to a halt in the default position again.

“My king?” Heimdall said, stepping out of the Observatory. “Is anything amiss?”

Loki shook his head.

For the most part, he’d gotten rid of the instinct to brace for pain in his throat each time he moved his head, but it was back the moment his attention slipped, like now.

“Why would you think so, my dear Heimdall?” Loki asked with a flash of teeth that might’ve looked more like a snarl than a smile, not entirely unwittingly. “Should something be?”

Heimdall’s brow furrowed. He could always see past Loki’s illusions and this time seemed to be no different. While the spell he’d found did a relatively fine job at fixing the state of his teeth, the missing canine was a lost cause and he resorted to using illusions to cover it up, at least until he found a way to alter it with shapeshifting. Loki wondered if Heimdall knew about that too. He hadn’t been particularly careful hiding his tracks at first.

The Watcher smiled one of those all-knowing smirks of his that could mean absolutely anything and that – once upon a time – would have driven Loki to red-eyed fury in a heartbeat. “No, your majesty.”

The title still sounded like a joke.

---

Loki took a stroll through the city on his way back.

With Thor gone, he expected at least some shift in the general attitude, but the Asgardians he met on his way regarded him with the same watchful optimism as before. Things must’ve gotten really abysmal here in the last two years if Loki was seen as the lesser evil now.

For the longest time, Loki had not been able to figure out what exactly had brought forth his ill reputation amongst the Æsir and only now was he realizing it hadn’t been any particular event at all. Just Odin’s resentment radiating to everyone around. Loki’s peers quickly learned to follow the All-Father’s lead and approach Loki with the same judgmental reluctance, no matter what Loki did to stop it. It wasn’t limited to his companions either – his tutors, his training partners, even the palace staff and servants swiftly grew wary of him. And, by the time he noticed the pattern, it had been already too late. His reputation was sealed – the disobedient, wild child who asked too many questions. A brat in need of correction.

And correcting they did.

There had been only one thing left for Loki to do – live up to that reputation.

It’d started innocently. Some small, benign pranks as payback – creating an illusion of a snake to attack Thor for the mockery of Loki’s affinity to animals, replacing his fencing tutor’s wine with spoiled milk for his comment that knife-throwing skills were not worthy of a prince, turning Sif’s golden locks dark when she laughed at his own hair color one too many times, saying he couldn’t be a true Æsir because of that.

It turned out she was right after all.

She’d never forgiven him for that but neither had she gotten it restored, even though the charm he’d used was laughably easy to reverse. Perhaps, unlike Loki, she liked how it made her stand out.

He ran his fingers through his hair, wondering if he could change the color with shapeshifting. Not really because it bothered him, it hadn’t for ages – and even when it did, it never occurred to him to use magic to alter it – but because he was curious how far this new, uncharted ability could go. He could feel he was just scratching the surface for now and it was equal parts troubling and exciting. Such explorations always took time and toying with magic this potent rashly might have – literally – irreversible consequences, but that felt like something within his current comprehension of the ability to handle.

He would try later, when he was back in his rooms, he decided.

After that incident with Sif, the more heinous crimes had come. Like that time when the blacksmith Grir messed up one of Loki’s stallion horseshoes – the shoe had come off during a hunt and the mount had bolted, throwing Loki off, and breaking his leg – and Loki talked Thor and Fandral into sneaking into the smithery to enchant the kiln to appear as a dragon, giving the man a scare in the morning, only for the spell to backfire and set the building ablaze.

The same crime that would land him in the dungeon for that first, disastrous time.

Even those three months – thirty-nine days according to the Asgardian calendar – were enough to bring him close to complete mental ruin.

Odin had visited him sometime halfway through his sentence – the first and only visit that hadn’t been the guards bringing the infrequent fare he’d received when imprisoned in the old cell. Loki had begged – on his knees, crying and tugging at the All-Father’s robes – vowing loyalty and obedience, gripped with a delusion that his words might change something. Odin had just looked down on him, shaken his head and left without saying a word.

He remembered promising himself to never step out of line after that. A promise he’d never been able to keep.

I was just a kid, Odin. All I wanted was for you to notice me.

Loki sighed. The sunny streets of the city lost all their luster. He slunk into the shadows, wrapped himself in an illusion and returned to the palace.

---

Instead of going straight back to his rooms, he wandered down to the lower levels of the castle, not exactly sure what for, and it wasn’t before he was standing at the entrance to the caverns that the decision was formally made inside his brain.

Knut was one of the guards posted at the gate, indubitably by his own volition – there was hardly a place less likely to draw Loki’s attention, the man must’ve reasoned – and he paled under his helmet when he noticed Loki’s approach, then bowed so deeply the wings almost scratched the floor.

Loki held back a laugh, keeping his face stern but neutral. As tantalizing as the idea of punishing the man under some flimsy pretense for his actions against Loki was, Loki was rather certain it wouldn’t bring any benefit, neither to his own sanity nor to his position as king. The man had been, after all, still following his orders, even if a sliver too enthusiastically. Seeing him squirm under Loki’s dissatisfied gaze was gratifying enough.

Or perhaps Loki was still too tired for vengeance and the real anger and resentment would come, in time.

“Step aside,” he ordered and the guards obeyed without a hint of protest.

The door was protected with a charm, but it submitted to the power of the Æsir king – is it the Loki-force now? – and opened when he pushed it.

The corridor was dark. There were no torches or lamps, there never had been any except for the ones the guards would have been carrying. He brought forth his core and a light burst to life on his palm. He made it float up, until it hovered above his head, almost touching the low ceiling of the tunnel.

The door closed behind him, either at the hands of the guards or by the invisible touch of the spell and Loki had to bodily fight himself to stay where he was and not to bolt and run out until he found himself under the open sky again.

You got this far, you can manage a few more steps.

It was more than a few. Four hundred thirty-seven, to be exact. Loki had counted, once.

The corridor ended and Loki stood, for minutes, staring at the door, at the ironwood – weathered by moisture and time – and the rust that gnawed away at the fittings. He could almost feel the rough metal and the small gap between the stone and the frame of the door under his fingertips. He’d spent countless hours on exploring it with his touch, looking for the tiniest opening, a scrap of hope, a single ray of light.

He pushed it open and his heart lurched in his chest, conditioned to associate the whine of the hinges with reprieve. It meant someone coming to his cell, to bring light, or food, or at least a voice other than his own, or even – on those rare, joyous days – the announcement of the end of his sentence. Pain too, on occasion, but Loki had always considered that a small price to pay for those gifts.

His light shimmered with the rhythm of his heart as he bowed his head under the lintel and entered the cell. The enchantment pushed on him, oppressive and suffocating, but it was no match to the power of the All-Father and it did not extinguish the light, not like it would have done before.

The cell had been his whole universe, all those years. The tenth realm, the realm of Loki, dark and barren and so very lonely. Even in the times when he hadn’t been locked in here, it had never been far away. Always lurking at the edges of his mind, threatening to drag him in, either in real life or in his nightmares.

It seemed so small now.

Barely more than a hole in the ground.

There was still a length of chain hanging from the lug on the wall, and the few links Tony had cut through were left scattered on the floor.

The light flickered again and he redoubled his efforts to keep it alive. It was the only thing standing between him and the crushing darkness.

He ran his fingers along the wall, revisiting the familiar textures and shapes one last time, then turned on his heel and left.

He left the door open.

The rock whined, holding on as if in sheer stubbornness for a few heartbeats before giving way to the magic that was piercing it and tearing it apart. There was a loud crack and debris started falling.

Loki did not look back when the roof of the cell collapsed, did not look at the pile of rubble that now stood where the door used to be.

He didn’t look back at all as he walked out.

There would be no more prisoners in the old cell, ever again.

---

It turned out he could change not only his hair color, but its length and properties as well. He stared at his face in the mirror for a while, now framed with fiery red waves. It was an unusual sight, to be sure, but in some way, it worked better with his skin tone. Perhaps this was how it was supposed to look like in the first place? How do shapeshifters even know what their original shape is? Was it coded somewhere in his brain and he just needed to find it or was it gone forever?

He pulled on strand of magic and the Jötnar blue bled into his skin, starting at his chest and radiating outwards, overtaking his face and hands and chasing the green away from his eyes.

Natasha was right. He did look like himself. Once he was able to look past the skin color, the burning eyes, and the raised lines – that only yesterday an old book informed him were heritage marks and that every Jötunn who’d see him in this form would be able to tell his lineage just from that, which was a fascinating and an utterly scary concept both – the face that stared back at him was his own. It didn’t bear the same deep-set eyes or had the sharp ridges of the eyebrows and cheekbones he had come to associate with the Jötnar.

The red hair went even better with blue skin.

He opened his mouth and ran his tongue – more of a faded gray than actual blue, like the palms of his hands – over his teeth. Those too remained as they were – a bit crooked and uneven, but still the flat teeth of an Æsir and not the pointy fangs of the Jötnar.

He undid the sash and let his robe slip off his shoulders. More heritage marks ran from his collarbones, down across his chest and stomach and wrapped around his arms, but the body underneath was still the same – gaunt and scrawny, with prominent lines of his sternum and hipbones sticking out through his skin. A form that never had much in common with the towering masses of muscle the Jötnar presented so openly, and even less so now.

A bout of laughter overtook him. Not only he wasn’t a true Æsir, but he was also a complete failure as a Jötunn.

What did that make him?

It makes you you. Nothing more, nothing less, a voice said at the back of his mind. It sounded a lot like Natasha’s.

He smiled at his reflection, trying out how it would look, then changed back. It was too hot in his chambers to keep the form on.

---

Just three days after Thor left, the news arrived from Vanaheimr. There was an uprising underway. Loki was only surprised it took that long.

A Council meeting was called without delay. Loki dismissed the abashed messenger, dragged himself out of bed and shuffled his way to the hall. The hour was unforgivably early and – after spending so much time on Earth – he was still not entirely used to Asgard’s long day and night cycles. He had also stayed up well into the night to look at the state of the crown’s spending. Just a little light reading before bed that had turned out to be too engrossing to put down, for a multitude of reasons.

He listened as the Elders discussed what sort of action Asgard should undertake, trying to not fall back asleep where he sat, his hand under his chin. The meeting was adjourned with Njal’s fifteen-minute-long tirade, presenting him with the outcome of the deliberations, the very same words Loki had been listening to since he had arrived: recall Thor from his banishment temporarily, gather a garrison of the best trained Einherjar and send them to Vanaheimr to squash the insurgence with an iron fist.

Loki heard him out, nodded courteously and completely disregarded the advice. Then he went back to his room – he was still residing in the guest quarters as he was in no rush to move into what was still Odin’s bedchamber in his mind – and crashed on his bed.

He slept till midday, undisturbed.

As per usual, he didn’t call for the servants when he woke. He was still very well capable of tending to his own needs and the idle talks that reached his ears insinuating he was doing so because he was hiding something didn’t bother him at all.

Of course he was hiding something. He was Loki. There was always something for him to hide.

---

He put on his new armor for the first time. He hadn’t bothered with it earlier. As finely as it was crafted, it was still heavy and cumbersome, even with the enchantments, and he was now used to the more casual, unrestrictive everyday wear the humans preferred. Plus, appearing as unthreatening as possible had its own set of merits, so he’d stuck to loose-fitting robes and tunics until now.

This occasion required him to dress for the part though.

He put on his new cape too, as much as he hated it. The head seamstress had almost suffered an aneurysm when he’d told her to make it green and not red. The fur trim around the collar must’ve been her way for getting back at him – the fluff was constantly tickling his neck and made the garment way too warm for Asgard’s weather. But he wouldn’t grant the overbearing woman the victory by complaining and, since he needed to make an impression, he kept it on.

---

Sleipnir tried to bite him again, so Loki quickly gave up and requested another mount. The stable boys rushed to saddle an impressive mare, her silky fur as white as milk. A worthy replacement, and a lot better behaved, too. Why had he even bothered before? The stubborn beast could stay in its kennel for all he cared.

It caused quite a commotion when he passed through Asgard, the mount, the armor, the cape, and all. Somewhere halfway through, he conjured the helmet too.

Tony would die laughing at this one, Loki was sure. Natasha would try to keep her face straight, at least for a while, biting down some cutting comment. Humans didn’t put nearly as much meaning into presentation and ceremonies as the Æsir did and Loki didn’t expect his friends to understand why he absolutely needed to look like he did right now.

Heimdall welcomed him at the gate of the Observatory.

“It’s still but break of a dawn in Fólkvangr, my king,” he said.

Loki sighed. Was Heimdall planning out his little remarks beforehand or was he coming up with them on the spot? “I’m aware. But slamming the Bifröst in the middle of the sacred field would be inappropriate. I intend to land in the Gefn Forest.”

That way he would arrive at the halls of Sessrúmnir just in time. Early enough to not disturb the daily proceedings, but late enough to not serve the court a rude awakening. It was a peace mission after all and he ought to keep all the courtesies he could.

“As you wish, your majesty,” Heimdall said with a small bow.

“Stop that.”

Heimdall raised an eyebrow, but it was a performance. A decent one, but a performance, nonetheless.

“The whole title act. I know you don’t respect me. And you know that I know that I have very little real power over you. Have at least some decency to say that to my face.”

“I do respect you, Loki,” Heimdall said.

“Here you go,” Loki laughed and it sounded bitter. “I was starting to suspect you forgot what my name was. The rest of the joke is somewhat less amusing though.”

“I do not jest.”

“That’s a relief,” Loki said, dismounting. One only makes the mistake of traveling via the Bifröst while saddled once.

Heimdall’s hand on his arm stopped him. He glowered, but the Watcher did not remove his fingers. “What is this about?”

“I do not jest,” Heimdall repeated. “You’re my king and I’m your subject. I’m bound to follow your command.”

Loki huffed out a humorless laugh. “Until I do something that’s not to your liking, I presume? What would it be? Would I need to go mad from despair and try to annihilate another realm again? Or would something less… splashy do it this time?”

Heimdall’s fingers unfurled from around his arm and he took a step back. “I grieve the injustices that have been done to you.”

Loki rolled his eyes. That was some way to avoid the subject. “That makes it a whole lot better then.”

“Odin and I quarreled about his treatment of you more than once,” Heimdall said, and there was some note in his tone Loki usually wouldn't associate with the man. Regret, perhaps? “He was in the wrong by keeping the truth from you.”

Oh, of course. Heimdall would’ve known about his heritage for ages. There was no hiding anything from his sight. Even if Odin had concealed him properly when he had first brought Loki to Asgard, there ought to have been talks and happenings the Watcher would have overheard later.

Loki smiled, dropping the illusion altogether this time. “I see. Should I be consoled by that in any way? Do you expect me to thank you? Oh, in such case, I’m forever grateful you dared to speak favorably of me to the man who took me from my home and made me his prisoner for my entire life. It truly changes everything!” He punctuated the rant with a mocking bow of his head.

And sure, it was pointless to argue with the Watcher, but Loki was so beyond tired of excuses.

“Asgard is your home.”

That called for a derisive laugh, but he was too angry for that. “No. It’s not. It was always just my prison and now I’m just stuck here, forced to clean up the mess I didn’t cause.”

There was a beat of silence before the Watcher spoke again. “You miss your mortal companion.”

Loki leaped before Heimdall could even finish the sentence and only his fingers and not a dagger were aimed at Heimdall’s throat because of the last thread of self-control he still held onto. “Do not dare speak of her,” he snarled, his teeth bared.

Heimdall took a step back. “It was not my intent to pry, my king.”

Loki took in a long breath and forced his hand down. “I know what my responsibilities are and I’m going to fulfill them. If this is what you worry about, don’t. The rest should be of no concern to you. I’m no longer Odin’s leashed beast and I do not answer to you. If you think you can bring me to your heel with one call, think again.”

Heimdall hesitated, then nodded and gestured Loki forward. Loki grabbed the mare’s lead and guided her inside. The Bifröst activated and carried him away without the Watcher uttering another word, which was probably for the best.

Chapter Text

It was early spring in this part of Vanaheimr and the Gefn Forest was waking from its long wintery slumber, with new shy leaves budding on the branches and a thick flowery scent of blossoming fruit trees mixing with the smell of decaying leaves and moist undergrowth.

The Bifröst site had a well-used path leading out of it and Loki followed it until he reached a broader, paved trail. Taking some time to orient himself in relation to the sun – only one of the twin stars that the planet orbited showed in the sky at this time of the year – he headed west, towards the city.

He wasn’t in a rush. The road was clear and the Fólkvangr lay but a few leagues ahead. Besides, his arrival was undoubtedly spotted by the court mages and an envoy would be sent to meet him and escort him to the royal castle.

Vanaheimr of old was a land of nomadic tribes, self-ruling and living by the law of the land, but millennia under Æsir rule had forced them to change their ways. If they were to hold any hope of having a voice, they needed someone to speak for them. So, they had chosen one of their chieftains – the fierce warrior and powerful seer Njörðr – and the royal palace Sessrúmnir had been built amongst the sacred Vanir fields to serve as his seat. He ruled the lands – if only in name and not in truth – until his passing, and then the new king had been chosen from his bloodline – his nephew, as the biological offspring he had sired with his wife, Skaði of the Jötnar, would never be officially recognized by the Asgardians.

The Jötnar were just mindless beasts after all, it was inconceivable to have one with that blood in their veins sitting on the throne of one of Asgard’s vassals.

Oh, the irony tasted delicious on Loki’s tongue.

These days it would be King Freyr and Queen Freya, his twin sister and wife. At least officially. King Freyr was old, older than Odin by a good couple of centuries, and frail in his advanced age. The queen hadn’t been seen publicly in years. The real power rested in the hands of the crown princess Gersemi – the eldest daughter and the heir to the throne, as Vanir customs did not limit their inheritance lines to male offspring – and her husband, Lord Kjell. They were the ones Loki needed to speak to.

He had already passed the edge of the forest and was now riding across the vast, open fields when he spotted the outriders among the mists on the horizon.

They were two of them, a man and a woman, wearing plain clothes in gray and green tones that blended well with the surrounding nature. Freyr’s house colors – blue and yellow – were nowhere to be seen. They rode on lean, swift horses and carried daggers at their sides and crossbows on their backs. Scouts or assassins. Perhaps both. They weren’t here to meet him. They were here to spot the approaching enemies and report back. Or take them out, perhaps.

The latter, at least, seemed to be off the table.

“My Liege,” the woman said with a courteous bow as she jumped off her mount. “We were expecting more of an entourage.”

Her Vanir carried a prominent Eastern lilt. She was not from Fólkvangr originally. A tribeswoman from the Wild Lands looking for a better life in the capital?

“I come alone,” Loki said carefully but still brought forth a smile. Even though those were but soldiers, one got only a single chance at making a good first impression. “I’m here to talk, not to wage war.”

She and her companion exchanged glances.

“Excuse us that untoward assumption, my Liege,” she said finally. “My name’s Ingibjǫrg, this is my shield-brother Léif and we are loyal subjects of King Freyr. We can offer you an escort to the royal halls, if that’s where you’re headed.” Léif elbowed her in the ribs. “Uhm, your majesty.”

“Lead on then.”

---

His guards didn’t speak unless spoken to, and when Loki did, only Ingibjǫrg – which most likely wasn’t her real name, it was only the capital folk that took on naming their children according to Æsir tradition – answered, in curt, quick sentences that carried very little actual information, no matter how general the questions he asked were. Not a talkative bunch, those two.

Then again, he was no longer a young princeling taking a vacation on Vanaheimr. He was the All-Father now and their reservation towards his status was well justified.

As they rode through the fields in silence, Loki’s mind wandered back in time.

Princess Gersemi was Frigg’s oldest sister and the All-Mother had been taking him and Thor along for visits with her family when they had been still young. Thor hated it with a passion – it meant time spent away from his friends and usual entertainments. Loki, on the other hand, loved every moment. It meant not only escaping Odin’s attention for a short while, but also served as a welcome change of scenery. And attitudes. His reputation didn’t reach that far back then and the Vanir people treated him like Thor’s equal, offering him the same smiles and kindness that were always Thor’s exclusive right back in Asgard. He had treats brought to his table at mealtimes, companions to play with, and the royal librarian had taken a special liking to him since that one time he’d wandered to the silent halls, looking for a moment of calm after all the excitement.

That had riled up Thor even more. It had been pleasant to witness, at least until they’d returned to Asgard and Thor had paid him back for all the perceived injustices he’d suffered while away.

But, as every good thing in Loki’s life, that had come to an end too soon. They had grown too old for holding onto their mother’s skirts and one year Frigg hadn’t asked them if they wanted to accompany her on her yearly visit and had just gone alone.

Loki hurled a fruit plate at the servant who had come to deliver the news of the Queen’s departure. He missed – he hadn’t even particularly been trying not to – but it still cost him ten days in the dungeon. He’d been allowed out just in time to witness Frigg’s arrival back in Asgard, smiling and rested and radiant, while the darkness still clouded the corners of his mind.

Ages had passed since then, but the memory still burned in Loki’s mind as if it had happened yesterday. The first time he had felt utterly betrayed and abandoned. There was a whole lot more of it later, but it had never stung as much as that first time.

And now he would never get a chance to tell Frigg that he’d forgiven her. Not that he would ever use it. It would require admitting a weakness first.

---

The city of Fólkvangr was a peculiar sight – less an actual capital and more of an idea of how a capital should look like by people who had never built cities in their history – an eccentric mix of Asgard-inspired architecture and upscaled nomadic huts, thrown together without much sense or coherence that had expanded over the years as the city grew, until it looked like a tangled mess of space trash that crashed in the middle of the endless open fields that still surrounded it.

On the top of the pile stood the Sessrúmnir, with its white towers and red tile roofs. The highest tower was crowned with a golden cupola instead – a gift from King Bor after one extraordinarily ample tribute – now covered with a layer of patina and more brown than actually golden. Unlike the Æsir, the Vanir didn’t care about presentation enough to send servants to risk their lives polishing the walls and domes of their buildings. And the weather was a lot less hospitable.

They rode through the narrow, winding streets and people came out of their abodes to see what the commotion was all about. There was a lot more hesitation in their stares and the whispers carried an uncertain edge.

It was to be expected. The news about changes on the thrones of faraway lands did not travel fast among the common folk, so many of the onlookers might not even know who Loki was. He wasn’t wearing the crown; he didn’t even have it retrieved from the vault since it had been placed there after he’d fainted like a sickly child at the coronation.

Even those who knew, had full right to their misgivings. Odin rarely bothered to visit other realms officially unless it was to raise the tribute or to impose new laws or restrictions.

Or squash a revolution or two.

This one hadn’t reached the capital yet. The report had said only a few trading port towns on the coast were rebelling and it looked like the situation hadn't changed. That was also why he had decided to go alone. Loki was not naïve enough to venture without support into a war-torn land, no matter how well meant his intentions were. An arrow shaft through the ribs hurt the same, whether he came to parley or to fight with the one who let it loose.

It was a matter of time though. The capital relied heavily on the trade routes – its location was picked because of the symbolism of the place and not the strategical viability – and the population relied on goods delivered by boats, via the Mardöll River from the ports in the North. Once that supply chain got disrupted, the unrest would soon follow.

Unless Loki did something about it.

---

There was a more formal-looking delegation waiting for him at the stables. Officials, not warriors, in fancy, colorful clothes the Vanir nobles preferred to the Æsir metal and leather.

Among the faces, a familiar one drew Loki’s attention. Lord Börje, Asgardian steward to Vanaheimr. It’d been decades since he had last seen the man on Asgard, as his preferred way of dealing with Odin was simply not to.

Loki dismounted and handed the leads to a stable boy.

Lord Börje bowed and a fake smile bloomed on his plump face. “It’s an honor, my king.” His beard was braided – as per custom in Vanaheimr – and his outfit was following the Vanir fashion. The royal emblem of the Asgardian crown – the mark of his station here – was nowhere to be seen. Either Loki’s unannounced arrival had given him no time to change into something that would have reflected his role better, or it was a meant as a statement. There was nothing to hint at either and Loki forwent deciding which one it was, for now. The Elders, of course, had a lot of reservations about Börje’s loyalties, stooping as low as to bringing up his Vanir concubine he allegedly had taken as a replacement for his barren Æsir wife and that the wench was – according to Njal’s flowery rendition – spewing new bastards every couple of years.

“Lord Börje,” Loki nodded back. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

“Oh, of course not, your majesty. Please excuse this austere circumstance. Your arrival came at a short notice and we had no time to prepare.”

There was not an ounce of regret in the man’s face. In fact, he looked positively peeved by Loki’s presence. Or perhaps by Loki’s kingship as a concept. There was no telling what version of the events had reached Vanir ears, and even if it was the full truth, the man had spent enough time on Asgard for his resentment of Loki to bloom and bring fruit.

Too bad, someone who Njal hated that much would have made a good ally.

Loki waved his hand dismissively. “I’m used to worse.”

The expression of preponderance on Börje’s face wavered, but he controlled it quickly. “Pardon my inquisitiveness, but could you perhaps reveal the purpose of this visit? We are overjoyed to receive you, of course,” he said, “but this is a trying time for all of the Nine Realms and there must be many places that require your attention. Vanaheimr is troubled right now and it might not be the best place for such notable guests as yourself.”

Loki smiled at the veiled jab, but let it slide. “This is exactly what I’m here to discuss. I believe an honest talk could solve many issues before they grow out of control. Now, shall we?” he said and gestured them on.

“Of course, your majesty. King Freyr is sadly indisposed, but Princess Gersemi will receive you in the Morning Hall.”

The Morning Hall was where the less official social affairs took place, which was right up Loki’s alley.

“Would it be too bold of me if I asked what the topic you’re here to discuss would be, my king?” Börje pried as they strolled towards the palace.

“The Council is afraid the skirmishes on the coast may turn into another civil war, and so soon,” Loki said matter-of-factly. Börje must’ve known that. He wouldn’t be allowed to hold the position he did if he couldn’t put a couple of easy facts together.

“Oh, that’s… Thoughtful of you, your majesty, but I assure you, there’s no risk of another rebellion. Yes, there’s trouble in the harbors, but it’s just a bunch of misguided mutineers. They’ll be dealt with promptly. There’s nothing for Asgard to concern themselves with here, less so to inconvenience the king himself,” he lied, then – in what he indubitably thought was a discreet manner – he signaled his entourage to stay a few steps behind. He leaned over but hesitated for a few heartbeats before speaking. “This is a very bad time for you to be here, my king,” he said quietly, switching from the Vanir he had spoken before to Æsir, as if it would make a difference. “Many people here held great hopes for Thor’s ascension to the crown, as he always was a great friend of the Vanir and he might’ve been the change the realm needed. The same people are very unhappy seeing you on the throne instead.”

They can get in the line then, as there will be quite a crowd, Loki thought. “I assure you, Lord Börje, that I hold only the best interest of the Nine in my heart.”

Börje murmured unconvinced acknowledgement, then added, in an outright conspiratory whisper, “There’re talks of Princess Gersemi planning to officially support the rebels. Once that happens there would be no stopping the war. It would be a disaster, for Asgard and Vanaheimr both.”

“I’m sure it’s just a misunderstanding and it can be straightened out in no time,” Loki said. Of course it was not. The Vanir had had enough of Odin’s hunger for power and now they had seen the opening to finally break free from Asgard’s rule, once and for all.

The envoy sighed, mistaking Loki’s diplomatic answers for naiveté. There had never been a shortage of people to underestimate Loki’s skills in politics – or any other area for that matter – and Lord Börje was just another voice in that crowd. Which actually might work in Loki’s favor, for once.

“There’s no love lost between me and Odin’s methods of governance, Lord Börje.” Or Odin himself. “And while I’m certainly not my golden brother, I’m sure Princess Gersemi and I can find common language.”

That had a bit more of an effect, although the man’s gaze was still rather mistrustful. He had spent many years of his life in Vanaheimr and held prosperity and welfare of the realm in high regard, to the point that it might have already outweighed his loyalty to the Asgardian throne.

The soldiers standing guard at the gate stepped aside as they approached. The chimes were rung and the drawbridge slowly descended, opening the way. Loki took that opportunity to admire the ceremonial armors the guards wore – made of lacquered and dyed leather scales, with broad helmets and colorful threads adorning the hem of the cuirass – that he always had found fascinating to look at. He’d often used to wish the simpler and more utilitarian version of the Vanir armor Hogun used looked more like this.

Had the man’s family ever been notified of his demise? With Thor being gone immediately after, there might have been no one to tend to that duty, Loki realized. He would have to look into it when he returned to Asgard. He had no idea which part of Vanaheimr the man was from, but he did have a family, that much Loki knew. A mother and three older sisters, which was often a ground for jealousy among the Æsir. Having more than one child was a privilege reserved only for the most accomplished, noble bloodlines on Asgard and even then, it was limited to two. The royal family was of course exempt from that law, but it was still rare for a king to have more than two children, unless no precautions were taken to ensure one of them was male.

That accounted for all the times Loki had overheard Thor being offered condolences for “being stuck with that.”

The drawbridge clattered down on the pavement and they walked across.

What used to be the main courtyard, had been turned into a garden, with an openwork structure spanning above, serving as a roof. The trees and bushes were in bloom, filling the area with a heavy blossom scent.

“Quite a lot has changed here since I last visited,” Loki pointed out. He wasn’t in a mood for small talk, but he also needed the man on his side, at least for now, and appearing as courteous and polite as possible might put at least a chip of doubt in Börje’s idea of where Loki was going to stand as a ruler.

“The princess likes nature, but her obligations don’t allow her to enjoy outdoors very much. Lord Kjell commissioned the garden on her name day a couple of springs back,” Börje explained, “but you probably knew that already, with Princess Gersemi being your maternal aunt, am I correct?”

It was a bait and a poorly constructed one at that, and Loki was not going to fall for it. “My lessons on Vanir politics pertained to more important things than the crown princess’ favorite past times,” he said nonchalantly. “Like the fact that the royal steward is directly responsible for maintaining order on the realm that was entrusted to them. One might even say that they could be held personally responsible for any unrest they failed to control. And should discrepancies in the amount of goods in the tribute be discovered – in, say, the last four years – they would have to cover the difference from their own coffers and suffer the consequences for the atrocious act of betrayal of their home kingdom.”

Börje visually deflated and most color drained from his face. “My king…”

“Now, it would be childish to harp on the details, am I wrong, dear Lord Börje? We’re both here because we want to ensure peace and a smooth cooperation between two realms, not because we want to outdo each other in pointing out mistakes of the past.”

“Of course, your majesty,” Börje said thinly.

“I knew we would come to an agreement,” Loki said and smiled pleasantly.

---

The Morning Hall too had gone through a serious redecoration since Loki had been here last, turning the spacious room into a greenhouse, with various plants in huge pots lined under the tall windows.

Princess Gersemi was lounging on a daybed, sipping wine, surrounded by a couple of ladies-in-waiting and three young children playing with an intricate model of a castle – a boy and two girls, with fair, almost white hair and pointy ears, the hallmark of the Ljósálfar.

“My princess, King Loki of Asgard,” Börje announced with a curtsey. “My king, Princess Gersemi of Vanaheimr.”

She nodded in acknowledgement and waved her hand. “Leave us, please,” she ordered and the court ladies gathered their skirts and hurried out without a word. “You too, Lord Börje.”

The man huffed in displeasure but bowed again and vacated the room without voicing his protest.

Loki crooked his head and folded his arms at his chest.

“Care to sit down, my dear nephew?”

“Your father is not coming?” Loki goaded in return. He already had put together a rather accurate idea of how things worked here, but the situation still called for a little test. “Or Lord Kjell, perhaps?”

She sighed. “Asgardians and their outdated ideas about leadership,” she said shaking her head. “You’d be better off discussing politics with my grandson than with Freyr. At least Haldir can tell his morning meal from his chamber pot.”

“So I figured,” he said and sat down in one of the vacated chairs, crossing his legs. It wasn’t following the proper protocol. Under the law of the treaties, the king of Asgard held higher power than the ruler of Vanaheimr – and even more so than an unofficial one – and Loki should be offered a higher seat. Then again, this wasn’t an official meeting and he couldn’t care less about the rules. 

“Wine?” she asked, then proceeded to pour two chalices from the flask at the side table when he nodded. She handed him one and took a sip from the other. “I’m not stupid enough to try to poison you,” she added when she saw his hesitation.

He laughed and took a swig. It was quite strong for such an early hour.

Princess Gersemi smiled knowingly. “It’s good to see you well,” she said, pulling herself up to a proper sitting position. “There were all sorts of horrible rumors about the fate of the young Odinson.”

That, too, was bait, and Loki decided to bite this time. “I’m not a son of Odin, neither by blood nor by conviction.”

She chuckled and it sounded like a kind-hearted laugh. “Took you long enough. I assume the other part of that secret was also revealed to you?”

“You mean this?” He let his Æsir skin fade away.

The princess crooked her head and raised an eyebrow. There wasn’t much familiar resemblance between her and her youngest sister, but Loki could now easily see they were siblings, as Gersemi looked at him with the same amused curiosity Frigg had done each time he had discovered something new about magic and had run to her to show it off, in the ancient days of his childhood.

It was a bittersweet notion, to say the least.

“Woah!” the boy – Haldir – squealed and trudged over to his grandmother’s side, the toys forgotten immediately. He trained his huge, golden eyes on Loki. “Are you a mage, sir?”

“Yes,” Loki said and smiled at the boy. “A mage and a Frost… Jötunn.” The Æsir common name for Loki’s race – Frost Giants – was considered derogatory in Vanir.

The boy’s eyes went wide. Not with fear, but with excitement.

No Æsir child would react this way to his obvious looks – or the admittance of being a male magic user for that matter – and for a moment Loki wished he had grown up here instead, where neither magical inclination nor his heritage would have been grounds for condemnation. Before the time of Asgard’s rule, neither Vanaheimr nor Álfheimr ever considered the Jötnar their enemies and were known to hold an openly friendly relationship with Jötunheimr, until Odin broke it up, forcibly rallying the Vanir and the Ljósálfar for the second siege of Utgård.

“I can do magic too! Look!” the boy exclaimed and raised his tiny hand, summoning a wisp of power. A cascade of sparks rose and drifted towards the high, vaulted ceiling, shimmering as they went. It was a simple spell, but still an impressive achievement for a child this young. “Gran says I’ll be the most powerful mage in the whole world when I grow up!”

“That’s quite likely,” Loki said with a smile. The boy and his younger twin sisters were the offspring of the union between the late Vanadís – Gersemi’s daughter – and Gyfli, the heir to the Álfheimr’s throne, a culmination of two strong bloodlines, with potent magical abilities presenting on each side. The Vanir upbringing would make sure the talents were properly cultivated.

The boy beamed and let go of the hem of his grandmother’s skirt then carefully trudged his way towards Loki, to sit by his feet. “What else can you do?” he asked, tugging at Loki’s clothes.

“Haldir,” Gersemi reprimanded, but there was little true reproach in her tone, “show some respect for our guest. Your uncle is a king and he is here on an important mission.”

“You’re my uncle?!” the boy blurted and his eyes sparkled with joy at the very notion.

This was by far the hardest question Loki had been asked since he had come to Vanaheimr.

Luckily, Gersemi answered for him. “Loki is your great-aunt Frigg’s son.”

Haldir’s grin faded. “I miss her,” he said with a pout. “She was always nice to me. She brought me those red fruits I love.”

Loki blinked, then said, quietly, “I miss her too.” He cleared his throat. “How about I bring you some apples the next time I’m here?”

“Yes, please!” Haldir said and wrapped his plump arms around Loki’s leg in gratitude for the promise.

“Now, go play with your sisters,” Gersemi urged, “The adults need to talk.”

---

The tales would later say the wise king and the noble princess discussed the matters that would decide the fates of the Nine until nightfall and that the talks paved the way to a new era of prosperity for the people of Vanaheimr. That there were cheers on the streets when King Loki rode out of the city and that the celebrations lasted for a month.

It didn’t go quite like that. First of all, there was a lot more alcohol involved. Also, there was no cheering – the people of Vanaheimr wouldn’t learn about the results of their deliberations until much later. But Loki and Gersemi did reach an understanding. The tribute would get slashed and replaced with a tax owned to the crown on all external trading deals that the Vanir would now be allowed to make, to be paid either with goods or with coin.

The Vanir insurgents that had been judged and imprisoned or enslaved under Æsir law in the past would be returned to their homeland, to serve the rest of their sentences according to the rules of their realm.

In return, the princess would officially avow Loki as the king of both Asgard and Vanaheimr and deal with the rebels in a timely and violence-free manner, ensuring the peace without Asgardian involvement.

It was a good compromise that both realms would benefit from in the long run.

The Council of the Elders, of course, called it quite differently. A madness. An idiocy. The end of Asgard’s might and glory. Not the right way to solve problems. And the like.

Loki listened to Njal’s tirade, kept his expression thoughtful, nodded in important moments and then completely disregarded it. He was now the Protector of the Nine as well as the king of Asgard, and the Vanir were his people too. And Asgard had been sucking their world dry for long enough.

---

“You called, my king?” asked Heimdall, walking into the chamber.

“I did not,” Loki said without looking up at the Watcher, still eyes firmly on the pod in which Odin was sleeping. “But we both know that’s not why you’re here.”

Heimdall laughed. “I take your trip to Vanaheimr was rather enlightening.”

“Yes, definitely, but you knew that already,” Loki said, keeping his voice neutral. “If you came here to talk me down from murdering my not-father in his sleep, you need not fret yourself. I won’t.”

“I was just making conversation,” Heimdall said and sat on the bench next to Loki with a heavy sigh. “So, now you know the full truth.”

“Do I? Oh, I’m not sure. Perhaps there are even more secret children of Odin I have absolutely no idea about, an entire dungeon somewhere, filled with other unfortunate Odinsons and Odinsdottirs?”

Heimdall shook his head. “You have to understand, she was not like you. She was a monster.”

Loki breathed out a humorless laugh. “So, exactly like me then.”

“Loki…”

“Unless you have any other lifechanging revelations to drop on me, you can leave, Heimdall. I’m really not in the mood for your excuses.”

Heimdall’s hand shifted on his thighs as if he were considering getting up and leaving, but he remained seated.

“I know where she is,” he said, not looking at Loki.

“Excuse me?”

“Hela is alive.”

“What about this then?” Loki pulled out a scroll. He had found it in Odin’s private office, locked in an enchanted chest, along with many old edicts and notes. A lot of it was quite informative. “It says here she was too dangerous to be left to her own devices under the terms of banishment,” he added, before Heimdall even unrolled the parchment. He wasn’t in the mood for games either.

“That part is true. She wasn’t banished. She was imprisoned, on Niflheimr. There would be a record in the locked part of the archives.”

Loki ran his hand through his hair. “And she is still there? Still alive?”

Heimdall nodded and his eyes turned glassy and empty, as each time he was using his gift. “She is growing restless. She can sense the time of Odin is coming to an end and his magic is the only thing still keeping her in her prison.”

“Good for her,” Loki said, numbly, then pinched the bridge of his nose. It seemed that Odin had practiced his parenting style long before Loki had even been born. It also looked like, between himself and Hela, Loki was the lucky one.

“On her trial, she had vowed to bring ruin to Asgard and her people and the ages of imprisonment only grew her determination.”

“As those things usually do,” Loki shrugged and moved to get up, wondering if said trial had been anything as fair as his. Well, if she could vow her revenge, she at least had gotten a chance to speak.

Heimdall’s gaze was on Loki, piercing and inquisitive and Loki held it, unabashed. There was no version of this where the Watcher could claim moral superiority.

“What do you intend to do?” he asked after it became clear Loki was not going to say anything else. The unspoken warning sounded clearly in his tone.

“Well, I’m going to go to Niflheimr. And you are going to tell me exactly where I need to go.”

“Loki, please! You can’t be serious, Hela is beyond reason, she won’t listen to you.”

“Maybe not. But I’m still going to try. I’ve got a feeling we might have quite a few common subjects to discuss.”

Chapter Text

It was daytime when he landed on Niflheimr, or at least what passed for it there. Very little of the light from the faraway star pierced the gloomy, permanently cloudy atmosphere, and the ever-present mists did the rest, bathing the word in hazy shadows, roiling under the piercing wind.

Niflheimr was dim, and damp, and miserable, and Loki had quite a bit of sympathy for anyone who was forced to stay here for a prolonged period of time.

He sighed and wrapped his cape closer around himself. He had ditched the armor, he wasn’t here to fight, nor to make an impression, but had kept the cloak. It wasn’t cold enough for him to feel it, but the moisture in the air wasn’t all that pleasant either.

There was a small, overgrown path leading from the Bifröst site, used in the times of old for deliveries of goods and news from Asgard, before Odin’s decree forbade it, leaving the Old Man Ótr as the sole guard and provider for the lone prisoner in the tower.

No regular mount would have been able to breathe in the atmosphere for longer than a short while, so Loki didn’t bring a horse and just walked, charting the area around himself with magic, as any regular navigation was made impossible by the weather. His sight reached only as far as the blurry outlines of the trees a few dozen paces away. The flora of Niflheimr was just like the rest of the life on the planet – sickly and ephemeral, barely scraping by in the harsh circumstances.

The Gnitaheið tower he also sensed long before he saw it, the magic enfolding it standing out like a beacon amongst the surrounding nature. As per usual, Odin had spared no effort to keep his prisoner contained.

It had to be Ótr himself who came forward to the narrow stone steps leading up to the tower to welcome Loki. His clothes were just tattered rags in the same nondescript gray color as his long, matted beard and hair. The lantern he was holding burned with a faint, greenish light, a courtesy of Niflheimr’s atmosphere.

“Good day to you, Ótr,” Loki said and it sounded like a completely unfunny joke.

The man’s eyes went wide and Loki couldn’t decide whether it was more in surprise or in shock. There was no telling how long it had been since he’d seen a stranger here. Then his lips parted and Loki realized he wouldn’t be getting an answer.

There was no tongue in the toothless cavity of the man’s mouth.

The secret he was guarding was too precious to ever allow him to speak of it.

Was this what Odin had planned to do to Loki too, eventually?

“I’m Loki, king of Asgard,” Loki said. “I’m here to see the prisoner. You have nothing to fear from me.”

The old documents he found in the archives after his talk with Heimdall stated that Ótr was a convicted criminal and his sentence was to be bound to the tower for the rest of his days, but there had been no mention of the man’s crimes. Perhaps they were grievous beyond redemption and this was exactly what he deserved. Perhaps there were none at all and he had just found himself in the wrong place at the wrong time. Just another life forsaken in the name of Asgard’s glory.

Ótr regarded him for a while and Loki unfurled the cape, showing off he wasn’t armed. Well, he still had the vibranium dagger that he now enchanted, making it even more of a potent weapon, but the man didn’t need to know that. Besides, even without it, Loki was fully capable of defending himself, should the need arise.

There was no need though. The old man shrugged, turned around and waved at Loki to follow.

The tower was built of rough stone and hollow inside, with narrow, steep stairs winding around the perimeter, made slippery with moisture and time. There was a rusty chain hooked to a wall to hold on to, but no railing, and the flickering light of the lantern Ótr was carrying was the only source of illumination, and after a moment, Loki was grateful he wasn’t afraid of heights. It was quite a long and probably rather unpleasant fall to the bottom.

The stairs ran to a small opening in the ceiling – stone slabs on thick beams made of unhewn logs – and onto the enclosed area at the top of the tower. The landing was divided from the rest with a stone wall and barely big enough for two of them to stand side by side.

Ótr pointed at the door, then handed Loki the lantern and turned to leave.

“Wait,” Loki said and the man stopped. “Do you have a key?”

Ótr shook his head.

“Then how do you open it when you need to go inside?”

Ótr shook his head again, then pointed at an opening at the bottom of the door, now bolted shut with a sheet of rusted metal. It was showing the signs of use, unlike the locks that kept the crossbar in place.

The man didn’t have a key because he never had to use it.

Loki took in a deep breath. Even inside the building, the unpleasant atmosphere scratched in his throat and burned in his lungs.

“You can go,” he muttered and Ótr shrugged and left, completely unperturbed he now had to go down the stairs in almost complete darkness. After so long he probably knew every step by heart anyway.

Loki set the lantern down and placed both his palms against the door. The magic of the Gnitaheið all focused in here, creating an impenetrable barrier Loki’s senses could not feel through.

He turned his scrutiny to the locks, one on each side of the crossbar. They were enchanted too, but the spell wasn’t as nearly as powerful as the one cast to keep the prisoner inside and it broke under the will of Loki’s magic. He didn’t even need to employ the All-Father’s force.

With the curse gone, it took just some pressure – that he applied using his dagger with the help of the leverage offered by the bar – and they cracked open, one by one. He wrestled the bar free and pulled on the handle, just to have it crumble under his fingers.

He pried the dagger between the metal frame and the stone. The door protested at first, raining flakes of rust and crushed pebbles into his eyes, but yielded, allowing him to swing it open in the end.

The room wasn’t completely dark, but the two narrow slits in the two opposite sides of the tower that served as windows did a better job at allowing the wind to whistle through than to let the light in to disperse the darkness.

It looked empty.

The relief was short-lived. As Loki’s eyes got used to the light, he started noticing the details. Marks on the gray stone, where the rough surface was polished almost to a sheen, and a chain, running from a bolt a bit off the middle of the floor towards the far wall and to a heap of…

Two eyes shone at him from a gaunt, dirty face, half-hidden under a mass of tangled, dark hair. Then there was a flash of teeth and their owner lunged, hands curled to claws, an unintelligible growl coming from their throat.

Loki took a quick step back over the threshold and the claws slashed the air where his neck had been a heartbeat ago. The figure collapsed, having run out of the chain’s give, and her nails scratched the floor just at the end of their reach.

There were scuff marks on the stone and Loki didn’t want to think about how long it had taken to make them that deep. He knew the answer anyway. One thousand, seven hundred, eighty-two years and sixty-five days.

He wondered if Hela Odinsdottir had a way to count them.

The circle of light broadened as he raised the lantern. The woman hissed and scuttled away, back into her corner.

“I’m here to talk to you,” Loki said warily. “I’m going to come in now, I’d appreciate if you didn’t attack me again.”

A disgruntled huff was all he got as a response, and – after a moment of hesitation – he stepped over the threshold again.

Hela’s eyes traced his every move from where she sat huddled with her back to the wall and her arms hugging her drawn legs. He stopped a few steps away, put the lantern on the floor and sat down himself.

Her nose wrinkled, but it was hard to read her expression under the layer of grime. She had no clothes on, they either had fallen apart completely or she had never been granted any. The shackle around her ankle that kept her tethered to the floor had gnawed her skin and flesh to the bone.

“I’d tell you to go to Hel, but you’re already here,” she rasped, her voice rough and brittle from disuse.

She wasn’t telling him to go away though, not exactly, and Loki could very well understand the logic. No matter how deep her hatred ran, Loki was still a visitor. A voice. A person. Something new and exciting to disperse the dull nothingness of her cell. She couldn’t risk alienating him with invectives and insults, because that would mean risking him turning away and leaving, never to return.

Her watchful eyes were still on him and it was painful to see the awareness slowly dawning on her face. “You’re the new king of Asgard. An Odinson,” she said.

“Yes,” Loki said, then nudged his head to the side. “Well, at least to the first part. The latter is highly debatable at best.”

“Why are you here?”

Loki smiled and flicked his wrist, calling forth the basket he had the servants prepare. “I came to share a meal with you. And to talk, if you feel like talking.”

He could see the urge to decline show up and quickly fade away from her face, chased away by the raw, primal hunger. It must’ve been ages since she had a real meal and not scraps of whatever Ótr was able to scavenge in the surrounding woods. An occasional fish perhaps, if the magic that bound the man to the tower allowed him to venture that far.

“You think you can placate me with food, like a stray mongrel?”

“No,” he said with a shrug, spreading a piece of cloth on the stones. “But you look like you need some, nonetheless.”

“I’m a princess! A goddess!” Her voice had quite an impressive range once she put her mind to it.

“Even gods need to eat. Believe me, I would know,” he said and pulled two plates and some cutlery out. Hela’s eyes glistened. “If you want to stab me, there’s a bread knife in the basket. I’d wager it’s going to work better than a fork.”

She managed to tear her eyes away from the utensil and turn them back to Loki. “You’re a strange man, Odinson.”

“I told you. I’m not a son of Odin. Name’s Loki, by the way,” he said, uncorked the mead, then poured it into two chalices and started setting the food on the cloth. “I hope you like cooked grains and vegetable stew. A friend taught me they go well on an empty stomach.”

Hela’s hands curled to fists as she fought herself to keep them from reaching for the food. “What do you want from me?”

What’s the price?, she was asking and Loki understood that sentiment too. There was nothing someone in her position would get for free from an Æsir. She was just a nameless, faceless prisoner, stripped of all power and control over her own fate.

“I already told you. I want nothing in return.” He cut a slice of bread and – in a Midgardian fashion – put some butter and cheese on it and placed it on her plate, before cutting another slice for himself. “You can have it, even if those were the last words you were ever going to say to me.”

Her eyes traced his hands zealously.

“The stew is still warm, too,” he added, pushing the pot towards her and removing the lid.

That did it. Her hand was trembling slightly when she moved away from the wall and reached for the food. All her reservations melted away with the first bite. The sandwich was gone in heartbeats and she moved onto the stew.

They ate in silence for a while, interrupted only with clinking of the cutlery and jingling of the chain as she shifted where she sat, now mirroring Loki’s pose. Her long, dark hair fell to her shoulders and onto her naked chest, obscuring the view in a way that seemed almost deliberate. Loki wondered if she’d heard the same comments about the hair color as he had.

After they were done, Loki poured some water into a bowl and rinsed a piece of cloth in it, then handed it to Hela. She wiped her hands, then, after a minute deliberation, used it to clean some of the dirt off her face.

Underneath the grime, her skin was pale and stretched over her bones thinly, but there was a hint of the royal bloodline still evident in her lines.

Odin’s blood, the ultimate curse.

“If you think this meaningless gesture is going to stop me from razing Asgard to the ground once I’m free of Odin’s magic, think again,” she said and drained the rest of her cup. Loki leaned in to refill it and her hand jumped up and clasped around his jaw. “Do you understand?”

He smiled and slowly pried her fingers away. There wasn’t much strength left in her grasp. “The magic will hold as long as he is alive.”

“I can feel it fading already. Do not try to lie to me!”

“That’s not my intent,” he said casually and let go of her wrist. “But you might also be interested to know, that – while Odin is indeed growing old and weak in his age – he is also under the care of the best healers in Asgard. It can take decades, or even ages, for him to finally leave this world for good.”

“I’m patient. I’ve waited this long. I can wait some more.”

“What if you didn’t have to?”

Her eyebrows rode up and she stared at him in shock for a moment. Then her lips curled into a nasty smile and she laughed, an utterly deranged, unhinged sound. “Am I to believe you’re going to cut me loose? Let me come and ruin your lovely home? Return my rightful title and the crown I was promised?”

“No,” he said frankly. “But I can offer you an escape from this place. Your own rooms in the palace. Being treated like a person and not a beast on a chain. People to keep you company while you’re healing and regaining your strength, and, if all goes well, your freedom, once Odin passes away.”

She laughed again. “You think you can bribe me with things that should be rightfully mine to begin with?! I will have my vengeance!”

“Against whom? Against a dead man? Against me or my brother, who weren’t even born yet when Odin cast his judgment on you? Against the innocent civilians of Asgard, or the rest of the Nine?”

“Innocent?” she scoffed. “I fought for them and they stood and watched as Odin threw me out! I was to be their queen and they allowed Odin to discard me like I was nothing! They cheered even!”

Loki nodded, slowly. “So they did.”

Her eyes narrowed and she watched him from under half-closed eyelids for a moment. “What had Odin done to you?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Loki said with a shrug and looked away. “It’s over now.”

She settled closer to the wall and pulled her knees back up, setting the chain to clinking. “He made me into his attack dog, into his spirit of wrath, to be unleashed upon those who opposed him. Then, when I came to collect my dues – the life and rights I was promised – he sent a posse of Valkyries to kill me instead, called me a monster and locked me here to rot with only the mute halfwit as company when I defended myself. The best he deserves is to die for it.”

“Perhaps he does. Perhaps he deserves to die for what he did to me as well. For all the blood he spilled in the name of his power. And I too thought I’m capable of killing him with my own hand.” He conjured his dagger, then drew his fingers along the edge. “I held him at the tip of my blade.”

“And?”

“I couldn’t do it.”

“You’re weak then,” she said with a derisive huff, “just like the rest of them. Weak, soft and spiritless.”

“Maybe I am all those things,” he said quietly. “That’s what Odin would call me too, I’m guessing. But it’s not why I didn’t do it. You want to know the real reason?”

“Enlighten me,” she mocked and slowly grabbed the bread knife from where it rested in the basket, then proceeded to pick the dirt under her fingernails with it. “I’m dying to know, my king.”

“It would prove Odin right.”

She let out a breath. Then she laughed again. “Oh, this is rich. You think you’re so much better than everyone else. That you’re so much better than me! Look at you, the shining beacon of morals! Odinson, coming to show pity to a poor, lost soul.”

It was but a rambling, a volley, a test, but Loki was still taken aback. It’s been a while since he found himself on this side of such conversation. He sighed and pulled himself up. The knife was still in her hand, so he reached out for it and wiggled his fingers until she gave it up, placing it in his palm with a pout. He placed it in the basket, along with the rest of the cutlery and the plates. He couldn’t risk her breaking them and using the glass shards to hurt Ótr or herself.

He left the food though.

“My offer still stands. I’ll be back in two days, make sure to have your answer for me.”

He sent the basket away, grabbed the lantern and turned to leave, but stopped before he reached the door. He undid the clasp of his cape and took it off.

Hela’s eyes watched him closely when he placed it around her shoulders. She didn’t protest though and then, as he turned around, he caught a suppressed shudder from the corner of his eye.

He was already at the door again when her voice, suddenly thin and wavery, reached him. “Why are you doing this?”

He shrugged. “Two days,” he said and left.

It wasn’t until the door was bolted and he was walking away from the tower, safely and soundly out of her hearing range, that he dared to whisper an answer. “I dreamed about the day someone would do the same for me,” he said, to no one in particular.

---

“How did it go?” Heimdall asked when Loki landed back in the Observatory.

“Are we really going to go through this every single time?”

“You were hiding from my sight, so how am I supposed to know if not by asking?”

“Then perhaps I had a reason? Some conversations are meant to stay private.”

They walked back towards the city without speaking for a while.

“It didn’t go too well?” Heimdall said finally.

Loki sighed. “I don’t know.”

“At least you’re back in one piece. Honestly, that’s more than I expected.”

---

Two nights and two days had passed and Loki was again standing at the gate of Gnitaheið. He was carrying his own lantern this time.

Ótr was nowhere to be found, so Loki just made his own way up the tower.

Hela was sitting by the window, as close as the chain would allow. She was wrapped in the cape, the fur collar close around her neck.

“I didn’t think you’d return,” she said without turning to face him.

“I told you I would.”

“I don’t trust kings, on principle.”

Loki huffed out a laugh and came over, then sat on the floor by the window. She had cleaned herself up some more and had bound her hair back with a piece of cloth. “Well, either way, I’m here. Did you come up with an answer?”

“What are your rules?”

“We can discuss it.”

“You can’t let me go free as long as Odin lives, or you’d be breaking the Law of Laws.”

Loki nodded. “I cannot allow you to use magic, either. Your sentence was to be imprisoned and stripped of your powers. But the place or other conditions of imprisonment or the way of separating you from your powers weren’t specified in the official ruling as far as the court records go. There is a lot of grey area there to be exploited.”

“A suite with a bath?”

“Sure.”

“A private garden?”

He made a show of consideration. “Fine.”

“Only an area block on magic?”

“That would breach the rules of the sentence. But I can offer you these,” he said, conjuring the bracelets. He’d found them in the vault and had spent an entire evening enchanting them himself. Two narrow, golden bands, made of uru, but plated with gold and with small gems on the perimeter to make them look more like jewelry than a restraint. “The spell on them locks the power inside, but still allows one to draw it for healing and the All-Tongue.”

She bit her lip, indubitably considering other uses she could still employ under the limitations. Loki could think of a couple himself, but it was the farthest he was willing to go with restricting a fellow magic user too, no matter how dangerous they might turn out to be.

She nodded. “No guards.”

“Four, posted outside the door.”

“A couple of slaves to tend to my needs?”

“Servants. I’m kind of in the middle of phasing out the concept of slavery in Asgard.”

She chortled. “How is it going?”

“Abysmally. The Elders are furious and I’m pretty sure there’s at least a dozen nobles who are plotting a coup. Giving up your unfair advantage is always hard. But we will get there, I’m certain.”

“Servants then, on my every call. At least three of them. And a private tailor and groomer.”

“Two. And the use of the royal services, like every noble in the court.”

“Fine,” she grunted, then narrowed her eyes at him. “What guarantee do I have you’re not going to take me to Asgard just to have me locked up in the old cell?”

“I won’t.”

The talent to glower impressively was apparently another thing that ran in Odin’s family.

“It doesn’t exist anymore.”

She tilted her head, still watching him through slanted eyes.

“Odin’s justice made me a bit too familiar with it,” he said, trying to keep the tone light. “One of the first things I did as a king was to go there and destroy it. No one deserves that. Or this,” he added, gesturing around.

She turned and looked into the mists outside of the window. “You’re deluded. This can end only in one way, in carnage and fire. You must know that. People like me don’t get second chances.”

Loki shrugged. “I did.”

She laughed again. “I still want to kill Odin.”

“I know.”

“How do you know you have it in you to contain me? How do you know I’m not going to trick you?”

“I don’t. More so, I expect you to try and I’m up for the challenge. Make no mistake, you’re going back here the moment you hurt someone.”

“But?”

“But I’m willing to see the good side in people. Another thing a friend taught me.”

She chortled again, sending herself into a coughing fit. “Oh, you think you can fix me. You think you can make it all go away. You think you can show me a scrap of kindness and I’ll come crawling back to you for more, so you can control me, just like Odin did.” She wiped her lips with the back of her hand and her limb quickly retreated under the cape.

Loki shook his head. “I have no desire to control you. And this?” He gestured around. “It doesn’t go away. It stays with you. The darkness, the pain, the loneliness. It’s always there, in the back of your mind. No matter how far you run, no matter how hard you try to hide from it, it’s there. You can let it drown you or you can use it to try harder. Because you already know what will happen if you’re not good enough.”

“You’re really good with words, aren’t you?” she said after a few heartbeats of silence.

“So I’ve been told,” he said with a smile and got up. “Shall we, princess Hela?”

Her gaze fell. She pulled the hem of the cape up, uncovering her shackled ankle and the sickening sight of white bone visible under the metal. “I can’t walk far like this,” she said, only a tone louder than a whisper, “and I cannot summon enough power to heal myself. Odin’s spell is weaker but it’s still holding on.”

The shackle cracked open when he ran his hand over it. “Why did you let this get so bad?” he asked.

She shrugged and looked away. “There was nothing else to do here. The pain was at least something to focus on.”

Loki nodded and pulled on his power to assess the damage. The skin was gone and her tendons severed, the blood vessels torn and healed shut. It was a miracle she hadn’t lost her foot. “I can’t fix it,” he said, “not here, not with the protection spell suppressing my magic. A real healer would have to work on this. All I can do is…”

The sound that escaped her lips when his magic seeped into her flesh and numbed her damaged nerves was something between a soft sob and a sigh of relief, quiet and broken.

He straightened up and extended his hand towards her. “Come on, the Bifröst site is not far. I’ll help you.”

She eyed his hand with suspicion.

“There’s no shame in accepting assistance from time to time,” he said.

“Another lesson from a friend?”

“Yes.”

“You must have a peculiar set of companions then,” she said and grabbed his hand.

“You have no idea,” he said and helped her up.

---

Old man Ótr didn’t show up when they were leaving either. Loki couldn’t wait for him to return, so he just raked through the tangle of spells that were cast on the tower until he found the one binding the man to it and slashed through it.

It was a breach of Odin’s law, but Loki allowed himself that one little lapse. There was no one who could tell on him anyway.

---

“How are you feeling?” Loki asked as she finally gave up the act and opened her eyes.

She sat up and stretched. “Does our deal cover you coming here unannounced and pestering me with question constantly?”

“It does. I’m the king, I can do whatever I want.”

She rolled her eyes and swung her legs off the bed. The healers had done an outstanding job on her ankle, with only a fresh pink scar showing where there had been no flesh or skin just a few days ago. “You’re not going to tell me to stay in bed?”

“No.”

“That’s a nice change of pace, I’d say,” she decided and shuffled her way over to pick at the food the servants had left for her on the side table. “I never thought I’d miss Asgardian fare,” she said, popping a slice of fruit into her mouth. “I’m still mad at you for those by the way,” she added, wiggling her wrists where the bracelets sat.

“You honestly thought I wouldn’t think of the backway loop workaround?”

She shrugged. “One could hope. I have a few other ideas too.”

“If it’s power saturation, you can skip it. They are linked to each other and once you fill one, the other will offload the energy. It could get quite unpleasant, too.”

“Thanks for the warning,” she mumbled, ate a piece of yeast cake and washed it down with wine. “You’re here just to flaunt your magical expertise or is there something else, too?”

“I’m facing a challenge I would like to hear your input on.”

She chortled. “Does the solution involve killing someone? That’s the kind of challenges I used to excel at.”

“I hope not.” He uncrossed his legs and heaved himself up from the armchair. “Care to walk with me?” he asked, indicating the archway leading outside to the garden.

“Can’t we talk here?”

“You could use some exercise.”

“You’re my healer now, too?”

He shrugged. “I thought it would do you good to go outside once in a while.”

The daily reports he received were clear. She was healing, physically, but her mental state remained unstable and she vehemently refused to leave the room. Of course, the healers advised doing what they always did in such cases: wait and see. The Æsir didn’t believe a mind could or should be healed. One either prevailed or succumbed to madness and the outcome depended only on personal mental strength. If one couldn’t push through on their own, it meant they didn’t deserve a normal life again.

Loki preferred the way the humans did it. Under the Æsir principles he had been a lost cause, many times over, and so was Hela, too.

“I’m fine where I am,” she sulked, clapped down on the armchair Loki had previously occupied and folded her arms. 

“You’re scared,” he said matter-of-factly, then quickly added, before her frown turned into a snarl, “The world, the sky, all those people. It’s overwhelming. I get it.”

She shook her head. “You get nothing, boy.”

Loki tilted his head. “Oh?”

“I’m still a prisoner. Here or there, it makes no difference. I can see the end of my chain from where I’m sitting right now,” she said, gesturing outside, where the barrier shimmered lightly at the edge of her private area of the garden. “It’s just a couple more steps longer than it was and I’m done yanking it like a rabid varmint.”

He sat down on the bed, facing her. “You really see it this way?”

She shrugged. “Shouldn’t I?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “It’s a prison, yes. But perhaps it’s still more than that, too?”

She studied him with a watchful gaze. “Ha! You really do think you can make me better. Open your eyes, oh great king of everything. There’s nothing to fix! This is what I am! This is what Odin and Asgard made me and now you have to deal with it and you’re faltering!”

He pulled his lips into a thin smile. “I’ve read about you, you know. There’s a record of all your conquests in the archives. It’s been censored and people were forbidden to mention it ever again, but it’s still there. And I have a hard time accepting it was all but Odin’s orders. The Andlàngr massacre for example? Not really his style. So, you can skip the innocent victim act, because I’m not buying it.”

“You should have done your reading before you brought me here then,” she said, her voice dark, then her expression changes slowly, bleeding from anger to dejection. She blinked at him. “Oh. You want to send me back.”

“Why would I?”

“I’m more than you bargained for.”

“Hardly,” he laughed. “Besides, we have a deal.”

She rolled her eyes theatrically. “I agreed to it without knowing what I do now know about you, Son of Laufey.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Impressive.”

“Oh please, if you didn’t want me to learn that, you would have posted someone less chatty as my chambermaid. Or cut out their tongue first, like Odin did. Honestly, the girl just doesn’t shut her mouth, at all.”

“Mhm,” he murmured, amused.

“What?”

“Nothing. I’m just trying to figure out how is this supposed to work. Are you really complaining to me instead of just ordering your maid to stop talking if you’re so fed up with it?”

Hela sighed, then rubbed her eyes. “What did you come to talk about?”

“The war with Jötunheimr. I don’t know if you’ve heard but we are in the middle of one.”

“So, it is about killing after all. I’m afraid I can’t help you with that. Seeing that I’m still in prison and all.”

“No, it’s not. I don’t want to fight the war; I want to end it.”

“That I’m even less qualified for. Have you tried total extermination?”

“I did, actually.”

“And?”

“The Jötunheimr still stands, as a manner of speaking.”

“Then you didn’t try hard enough,” she supplied, turning the bracelet on her wrist around idly.

“You really think I should do that? Destroy them all? Raze their world to the ground?”

She shrugged. “That’s what Odin would do.”

“I’m not Odin.”

“You might have mentioned that, once or twice,” she said with a scoff. “I still don’t get what you want from me.”

“Your expertise.”

“I told you, the only…”

“You’ve visited Jötunheimr, before everything, right? Before the first war.”

“Yes, a few times,” she said with a roll of her shoulder. “It was never my favorite travel destination. Too cold and too blue for my tastes. Muspelheimr, on the other hand, mmm, that’s more like my dream place for leisure. All the blood and all the screaming and all the fire…”

“How was it? Before Odin took the Casket and locked it in the vault?”

“He did? Damn, the old man always dreamed big.”

Loki glowered at her.

“Can’t you just go and read about it in your books instead of annoying me?”

“The only records Odin’s purge left in its wake were those calling it a savage, cruel land, full of senseless creatures. And it cannot be true.”

“And why not? Would it break your little, icy Jötnar heart to learn that you are, in fact, a product of a long line of mindless beasts and monsters?”

Loki sighed and shifted on the bed, pulling his legs up. “That ship has already sailed.”

“Maybe Odin was telling the truth, that one time?”

“Was he?”

She stared at him for a moment before answering. “I don’t know,” she laughed. “I suppose he wasn’t. The Jötnar were… just people. Some good, some bad, most predominantly unremarkable. A tad primitive and rough around the edges, if you ask me. Some potent mages amongst them too, and I’m guessing you got lucky in that particular regard. What else… Some creative architecture, that for sure. The ice powers – kind of problematic in a fight – then the goddamned shapeshifting Odin was always so scared of…”

Loki’s eyes snapped up to her and her lips parted in a feral grin. “Ooh,” she judged. “I wish I could have seen Odin’s face when he realized!”

“Apparently, I changed shape the moment he picked me up as a babe.”

“So young and already so desperate to please,” she mocked. “No wonder he kept you. He was always fond of sycophants.”

“This time didn’t pay off, I’d say.”

“Now you got me interested. I want to hear the whole story.”

Loki smiled. “Then maybe I’ll tell you, some day.”

“If you expect me to say I’m looking forward to it, you’re up for disappointment.”

“Coincidentally, that would be a major theme of that tale,” he muttered and looked down on his hands.

She sat back and watched Loki through half-closed eyelids for a while, tapping her fingers on her stomach. “I can’t figure you out,” she concluded. “You look like the silent, meek type, but you still stood up to Odin, somehow, and kicked him out of his comfy seat. You’re standing up to me! Don’t I scare you, child?”

“I haven’t been a child for quite some time now,” he said with a small huff. “And why should I be afraid of you? You’re just big words while you sit here, too afraid to go outside.”

She snarled, sprung up and marched through the archway, her feet slapping the stone angrily. She stopped just outside, crossed her arms and glared back at Loki.

Loki smiled knowingly. “I knew you could do it,” he said.

Some tension drew away from her frame and her shoulders slumped. “You could at least pretend you’re not proud of yourself.”

“That would be a lie.”

“Isn’t your moniker ‘the god of lies’?”

Loki shrugged. “It sucks anyway. But ‘the god of sometimes telling the truth nobody wants to hear’ doesn’t roll off the tongue anywhere as nicely.”

Chapter Text

“Where to now, my king?” Heimdall asked, meeting Loki halfway on the bridge. There had been a delegation from Álfheimr he had just been seeing off.

“Utgård,” Loki said without stopping. Heimdall turned around and walked by his side. 

“I don’t think that’s a wise idea, Loki.”

“That must be a new record. Just one word of an answer from ‘my king’ to ‘Loki’ this time,” Loki said. “Were you questioning Odin’s order each time he was using the Bifröst too?”

Heimdall’s lips pulled into a thin line. “No,” he said darkly.

“And why is that?”

“Loki…”

“You helped bring the humans to Asgard to assist with your ploy and advised Thor to give up his birthright for my sake, then you explicitly supported my claim to the throne. All that just to question my every decision now? How is this supposed to make any sense?”

“This is exactly why I’m questioning you. I helped to put you where you are and now I’m indirectly responsible for every decision you make. And you already made quite a few controversial ones.”

“I ended a rebellion without spilling a drop of the Æsir blood and I made decent progress in convincing Odin’s firstborn to not exact her bloody revenge on us once my dear not-father finally shoves off. Also without any victims. How is that questionable?”

“You also made some important people very unhappy.”

“You can’t chop the forest down without getting a few splinters.”

“It sounds like something the mortals would say.”

“Did you know they don’t like being called ‘mortals’? Funny, how that little fact was never mentioned over the years in any of my lessons. Also, I’m pretty sure the human saying has something about eggs in it.”

Heimdall stopped, then grabbed Loki’s arm. His golden eyes stared a hole through Loki’s face. “I barely recognize you since you returned. You’ve changed in your exile.”

Loki laughed. “Odin’s treatment was a great way to lose some weight,” he said, shaking Heimdall’s hand off and moving a step away.

“It’s not what I meant.”

“I know,” Loki sighed, “but I don’t know why you’re saying it like that’s a bad thing. Everybody hated the old me and now that man is gone. You won. You should rejoice, should you not?”

“Loki…”

Loki shrugged and started walking again. “I’m not trying to trick you. I’m not playing a game, I’m not going for some long haul under all of your noses. I’m where your and Thor’s actions put me and I’m trying to make the best of it, can’t you see that? You thought Asgard needed a change, so here I am, bringing it. Isn’t that exactly what you wanted me for?”

“You can’t stand against everybody in Asgard, alone.”

“You’re mistaken, Heimdall. I’m not alone. Look around. The Elders hate me, that’s true. Most of the nobles do too and those who still do not will join them when I push forth the new tax I’m planning to implement. But I’m not going to be a king who only looks after the interests of the royal court. That’s not what the title says.”

“That’s a grand sentiment to hold, but this is how it has always been done, Loki. The common people don’t know what’s good for them. They need to be shown the way. You can’t just storm in and destroy everything those before you had been building for millennia.”

“And why not? It doesn’t work. Asgard is stuck in the past, stagnated, blinded by the shine of our own glorious past. There might have been a time when the royal crest meant something more than just oppression and exploitation, but it’s long gone. This is how the Nine sees us now. Tyrants and despots, not the noble protectors we fool ourselves to be. The lies are not working. The universe has moved on and we will be left behind if we don’t change our ways. The Elders won’t be the ones to take up arms when the danger arrives. And you know just as well as I do that it will. We need allies. Not serfs who will turn their backs on us the moment we are attacked. We need friends, not slaves and minions. The Nine needs to stand as one, because if we do not, Thanos will come and he will take whatever he wants from us.”

“That might just as well be an impossible task.”

“Well, either way, I’m up for the challenge,” Loki sneered and stopped by the gate leading into the Observatory. “Shall we?”

---

The old Bifröst site had been destroyed when Loki launched the beam at Jötunheimr and a new one needed to be created. It was a bit further away from the city and Loki got a good opportunity to see the aftermath of his outburst as he walked. Utgård still stood in ruins. The Casket was the main source of power the Jötnar had used to raise their cities from the barren, icy plains, and now they couldn’t rebuild without it.

As much as he wanted to avert his gaze and keep it firmly on the ground in front of his feet, he did not, burning the sight into his memory instead. He had caused it; he might just as well remember what he had done.

He was still a good league away from the city walls when he spotted a group of outriders passing the gate. They were riding the scaly Jötunheimr-native beasts and Loki realized he didn’t even have the name for them. He had been born in this Realm and yet didn’t have the first idea about anything here. 

The scouts reached him quickly and formed a circle around him, stopping him in his tracks. They were warriors, dressed in leather and fur, carrying long spears with blades of black metal, all pointed at Loki now.

“State your business, Asgardian,” the tallest, broadest one said, his fingers shifting to the hilt of his weapon. His hands were so big Loki had no problem imagining them going all the way around his neck. “Or perish.”

“I’m Loki, king of Asgard. I’m here to speak to your chieftain.”

The warriors laughed and it sounded like a sack of rocks rolling down a hill, harsh and dangerous. “The time to talk has ended, Asgardian. You dare show yourself here, without guards, without support, without any weapon? Are you asking for your demise? Say one word, whelp, and we will deliver it to you.”

“I didn’t come to fight you.”

The tall Jötunn dismounted and closed the distance to Loki in one leap. The tip of the spear touched Loki’s exposed throat, glistening with new ice forming around it.

Loki stood his ground and tipped his chin up, the blade scratching his skin. “You’re not going to kill me, so you might just as well drop the act,” he said. His voice was calm, even if he was anything but. The Jötnar were angry, and for a good reason. The treaties were off and they were in an open war now. A war he had restarted himself, albeit indirectly, then fueled it with his actions against the realm. His status did little to protect him here.

The Jötnar knew it too. “And why not?”

“You lose nothing by leaving me alive for now. You said it yourself, I’m not a threat. I came alone. Perhaps your king would find my offer worthwhile?”

“And if he doesn’t?”

“You can always kill me then.”

Another Jötunn dismounted, came over to the tall one and whispered something into his ears, the words too low for Loki to catch over the whistle of the wind.

The tall one narrowed his deep-set eyes. “It’s you,” he snarled.

“Well, it would be hard for me to be anyone but…” The edge of the blade dug deeper into Loki’s skin, cutting him off.

“You dare show up here, after what you did? You lured King Laufey into a trap. And you now demand us to lead you to his heir? How stupid do you think we are?”

Loki bit down a jab. The man was making it too easy, but letting it slip could have grave consequences. 

The other Jötunn, the one who recognized him, circled around and soon Loki felt another blade pressed to his spine at the small of his back. “Talk, Asgardian,” the man growled into his ear and pushed on the blade so hard Loki could feel the bite of cold through his leather coat. “Give us one good reason not to kill you.”

Loki closed his eyes and let the blue bleed into his skin.

The tall Jötunn gasped and the blade retracted, just for a heartbeat, before it was back. It didn’t feel cold anymore. “What kind of trickery is this?!”

“It’s no trickery…” Loki said, opening his eyes, and immediately forgot what he was about to say next. His eyes trailed around, astonished.

The Jötunheimr seen through his Jötnar eyes looked nothing like the dull, gray landscape from a couple of heartbeats ago. Where formless shadows lurked before, now glistened a whole gamut of shades of blue and white Loki didn’t even know existed, the snow shimmering under the brilliant light of the pale star, bringing out the sharp edges of the glaciers and the soft curves of the low clouds.

Jötunheimr seen with the eyes of a Jötunn was nothing like he was used to seeing, because it was absolutely, breathtakingly beautiful.

“A valdr got your tongue?”

Loki blinked and focused his eyes back on the tall warrior. He too looked different, the shade of his skin was now paler, more azure than blue, with a delicate pattern of darker blood vessels underneath that seemed to pulse and change with each heartbeat. “No,” he managed finally. “This is not a trick. This is what I look like in my true form.”

“Those are Laufey’s heritage lines,” another Jötunn said warily.

Loki nodded.

There was a perceivable change of atmosphere. The tall Jötunn – apparently their leader – drew his spear away and butted it on the ground. Some of the aggression faded from the others’ stances, the hostility in their gazes replaced with open interest.

“You’re the lost son of Laufey,” the third warrior said. He dismounted and was now circling Loki, studying him from every angle, as if he could find some detail, some discrepancy to lay fault to the claim. “The boy who Odin the Usurper stole.”

“I am.”

“Wait, didn’t you say earlier you were the king of Asgard?” asked the leader.

“Yes.”

His impressive brows furrowed. “Odin took you hostage and then made you king?”

“This is not exactly how it went,” Loki said with a small smile.

“Did you kill him in a battle?” yet another Jötunn asked. He was younger than the rest and not as impressively built. Not a weakling like Loki, but not a walking mountain like the others, either. He had hair, too, Loki realized, long and dark like Loki’s, braided into many thin braids, adorned with red ribbons and beads laced between the strands. Perhaps the tradition went the other way around here?

The young Jötunn switched his stance from one leg to another in a sign of impatience.

“No,” Loki said curtly.

The expression on the man’s – boy’s – face couldn’t be anything but disappointment and Loki felt a pang of regret he didn’t have fairer tidings to deliver before he reminded himself where he was: still among enemies.

The leader regarded Loki with a last sizing glare and nodded. “We’ll take you to Býleistr. But I wouldn’t mention the king thing to anyone else on the way if I were you. People might get the wrong idea.”

“Thank you,” Loki said with a courteous bow, earning himself some weird looks. This was apparently not how it was done here.

They had been walking for a while already when Loki realized he had forgotten to ask. “Who is this Býleistr you speak of?”

The Jötnar exchanged concerned glances before the leader responded. “He is Laufey’s eldest son. He ascended to the leadership after the cowardly assassination of Laufey by the Asgardians.”

Loki had no idea Laufey had sired any other children. Loki didn’t even think to check if there was even any record kept of the Jötnar ruling family. And now he had to remind himself to breathe as he walked towards Utgård’s citadel, surrounded by a posse of Jötnar, his boots scrunching on the coruscating snow of Jötunheimr, his mind running in circles with the sudden realization.

He had a brother of his own blood.

---

The waste that Loki’s wrath had laid on Utgård looked even more severe up closely. Many buildings were in ruins and the wide scar left by the beam ran across the main street like a ravine, with some makeshift bridges of ice and stone spanning across to allow passage.

I did this, was all Loki was able to think. They would kill me on the spot if they knew. And they would be right to do so. 

There were people in the city and they turned their heads as Loki and his guards passed and Loki couldn’t help but stare back, stumbling upon another realization. He never met a Jötunn who wasn’t a warrior until today.

There were children playing in the ruins, women walking with baskets and jars. Elders and younglings. Just… regular people, going around their daily lives.

People, not monsters.

“Is something wrong?” the leader asked.

Loki turned his gaze back to the ground and shook his head, fighting the tightness in his throat.

I almost killed them all.

The front façade of the keep had crumbled and partially collapsed and was patched up with packed snow and wooden beams. Where did the Jötnar get their wood? The land around the citadel was just a frozen tundra. Perhaps there were forests somewhere further from the capitol?

There was so much he didn’t know about this place. So much he yearned to learn.

They walked through the gate and Loki blinked, as his eyes adjusted to the dim light of the smoky oil lamps that lit up the vestibule, but it happened quickly. The Jötnar anatomy was better equipped to seeing in low light than what he was used to.

The building was built on a plan of a circle, with doors leading to rooms around the perimeter and an open space in the middle. There was a stone hearth in the center and a matching opening in the roof above. It was burning low, with coal, not wood, giving off heat, but little smoke.

There must be coal mines somewhere nearby.

The flame was low but temperature in the room was high enough for Loki to start sweating under his multiple layers of cloth and leather. This must be why the Jötnar didn’t really bother with garments beyond the essentials.

He undid the clasp on his coat and unlaced the high collar of his tunic, gasping in relief. The warrior leader smiled knowingly but didn’t comment, regarding Loki with a gaze one would use to observe a child learning their first steps, clumsy and inexperienced.

Further down the hall there was a dais, with a low, backless seat on it, carved out of whitewashed wood.

It was empty.

A woman passed by and almost walked into a pillar, her eyes wide as she was gaping at Loki. She was as tall as any of the men, but more slender, her face had slightly softer edges and she wore a strip of coarsely woven cloth bound around her bosom in addition to the fur and leather skirt the others wore. Her red hair had been shaved at the sides, leaving a thin strip running from her forehead and culminating in a braid on her neck.

“Hey, Vænn, where’s the chieftain?” the leader called to her.

“In his chambers, Mikill. Why are you bothering me instead of checking yourself?” she yelled back, stealing one more curious glance at Loki. “Who’s this?”

“Not your goddamned business, witch,” the leader – Mikill, which the All-Tongue tried to translate as “large”, so it was either a nickname or the man had very farsighted parents – yelled back. There was no vitriol in the tone, it sounded more like a friendly banter and the two obviously knew one another. The city wasn’t that big, so perhaps it was much like Asgard in that regard, where everyone knew everyone, at least in passing.

She shrugged and carried on her way.

The royal chambers turned out to be just a room in the upper floor or the keep. It didn’t even have a door, just a curtain of white-dyed leather and Mikill pushed it aside without announcing himself first, then marched inside. “Býleistr? You in here?”

The pile of furs moved and a head popped up from underneath. The man rubbed his eyes. “What do you want, Mikill?”

“There’s someone who wants to meet you,” Mikill said, unceremoniously grabbing Loki’s arm and pulling him inside.

Býleistr’s eyes narrowed and he surveyed Loki, head to toe, taking in his looks, the marks and the Asgardian garb alike. “What is this, Mikill?”

“He arrived with the Bifrost on the outer plains.”

“I did,” Loki confirmed. “I’m Loki, king of Asgard.”

Býleistr sat up and pulled the furs aside, revealing his fully naked form and two other Jötnar the covers had been hiding until now, a man and a woman, one on each of side, just as naked. “Out,” he commanded, and his companions (lovers? concubines? bed slaves?) scrambled out of the bed and marched out of the room, grunting in displeasure. Neither bothered to put on their clothes first.

“I feel awfully overdressed,” Loki said, looking around the room.

The bed took the central spot, with what Loki assumed was a sitting area with low table and leather cushions around on one side and a hearth on the other. There was a pot with something – presumably a stew – bubbling in it suspended above the fire on a thick, blackened chain and the cloying smell hung in the air. Loki couldn’t decide if it was pleasant or absolutely disgusting.

“You should be,” Býleistr said, wrapping a pelt around his waist. He was tall and broad, but not as huge as any of the warriors. “Mikill, you too. Go and tell the witch I’m summoning her.”

Mikill hesitated.

“Did I stutter?” Býleistr urged and the warrior huffed in annoyance and left. Býleistr turned to Loki. “What is this? Another Asgardian trick? I’m not a fool like my father.”

“Our father, apparently,” Loki said, leaning back on the wall and folding his arms.

“So your marks claim,” Býleistr said with a shrug. “But we will know soon enough. Care to sit with me?” he asked, gesturing at the cushions.

Loki knew exactly what Býleistr was doing. Why he summoned a witch and played for time. Loki’s looks could be an illusion or an effect of some other kind of spell and there was no way to tell for someone who was not a magic user himself, like Býleistr, apparently. Loki played along.

Býleistr sat down and Loki joined him on the other side of the low table.

“Odin took me when I was a babe,” he said, “He told me I was his own son. I didn’t know the truth until very recently.”

“Are you feeble of mind or something?” Býleistr said with a raise of eyebrows. “You look nothing like an Æsir.”

Loki summoned his magic and shifted back into his Æsir skin. The room grew darker and a lot colder and the smell now was so harsh his stomach churned.

Býleistr grunted and shook his head. “I should’ve known. Of all of us, it had to be you to inherit our mother’s gift.”

“I don’t know much about it,” Loki admitted, changing back. “There are no people with such talents among the other Elder Races and I just recently discovered it.” He took a long breath. “You say we share a mother, too?”

“You think you just materialized under a rock one day?”

Loki chuckled. “No, but I know very little of the customs of this realm.”

Býleistr just stared at Loki for a while, trying to judge the merit in his words. “Yes, we do share a mother.”

“Is she…”

“She passed, giving birth to you, no less.”

Oh.

“Laufey was devastated. We all were. Then the Asgardians came. They killed many and took even more as prisoners. We didn’t realize until later you were among them. Such cruelty, to take a child from a grieving father… And they say we are the monsters.”

Loki nodded curtly, his heart beating frantically in his throat.

“So, how come you’re the king now? Odin isn’t dead, is he? His wards on the rifts still hold, still barring our shamans and witches from drawing their powers.”

That was another thing Loki had no idea about. Odin had not only taken the Casket, but also cut Jötunheimr off from the universal powers.

“He is alive, yes. For now, at least. But he holds the title no longer.”

“Odin conceded to you? A Jötunn?”

Loki shook his head. “My… Odin’s son Thor and I plotted to remove him from power. The time of his senseless violence had to come to an end.”

“Thor the Butcher helped you depose of Odin and then didn’t seize the power for himself?”

That was quite a moniker and Loki didn’t even want to ask how and when exactly Thor had earned it, although he had a few ideas. “Yes,” he said simply. “Thor remains exiled on Midgard and I alone rule on the golden throne.”

The curtains parted and the woman from the hall – Vænn – walked in. “You called?”

“Yes. My guest here claims he comes from Asgard, but that this is his true skin.”

Vænn closed her eyes for a brief moment. “He is telling the truth. The magic is strong, but it’s no illusion, nor a spell.”

Loki smiled at her and she wrinkled her nose. “Is that all you wanted, Býleistr?”

The man dismissed her with a wave of his hand.

“You got your confirmation; can we talk now?”

“I’m still considering whether I shouldn’t just kill you. You’re alone, nobody would know until it’s too late. If anything, having Asgard’s king head on a spike would be good for my people’s morale.”

“I appreciate your frankness,” Loki said dryly, “but you must surely know what would follow if you did. On the other hand, listening to my offer costs you nothing. We are already here, aren’t we?”

“We want nothing from Asgard. Every gift they have to offer is a poisoned one.”

“Oh, I can think of a couple of things still,” Loki said with a smile.

Býleistr narrowed his eyes. “Speak.”

“Casket of the Ancient Winters,” Loki said.

“What about it?”

“I’ll return it to you, where it rightfully belongs, along with a seat on the new Council I’m building, one where every realm will have a representation, not just Asgard.”

“In return for what?” Býleistr asked doubtfully.

“Peace. A lasting one, hopefully based on trust and cooperation, in the future. Oh, there’s also a tax on the trades.”

“What trades? We are cut off from the rest of the universe, how are we supposed to trade?”

“That too can be remedied. If you uphold your end of the bargain, you’ll be granted the use of the Bifröst. There’s also a group of Midgardians building their own version of the bridge, one that doesn’t require Asgard’s unique location to work. If that succeeds, you might be able to trade with Midgard for one. Trade, as in ‘exchange resources’, not invade and take it, if that wasn’t clear from what I said before.”

Býleistr tilted his head and stared at him. “You’re completely mad.”

“I’ve been hearing that a lot lately,” Loki laughed.

“We are warriors, not merchants or craftsmen.”

“Yet you have your lumberjacks, your miners, your hunters. You make do being stuck on a dying world on your own. Think about the possibilities. A chance to rebuild, to return your world to its former glory. Have a better place for your children to grow up in. That’s ought to be worth something.”

Býleistr ran his hand over his face. “What is in this for you?”

Loki shrugged. “I didn’t start this senseless war and neither did you. I don’t want the next generations of Æsir kids growing up listening to the tales of the monstrous Jötnar who come at night to snatch them away when they misbehave.”

“Those are the tales that are told on Asgard?” Býleistr laughed.

Loki nodded. “I’ve been told those too,” he added quietly. “I know very little about this realm. So, I have another request to make. I’d like someone to teach me. The laws, the language, the culture. Everything. I’ve been oblivious to it for long enough.”

“Well, Loki, I think we might come to an agreement,” Býleistr said and extended his hand. Loki met it halfway and the chieftain’s grip was strong enough to threaten the freshly healed bones in Loki’s palm.

---

They talked for a long time after that. Býleistr spun a tale of the Laufey family, their mother and their brother and treated Loki with a meal of the stew, which Loki accepted out of courtesy and then devoured in record time – the tender meat in a thick, herbal broth tasted delightfully on his Jötnar tongue.

Loki offered the tale of his growing up as an Æsir, his fight with Thor and his exile in return. He passed over his role in the firing of the Bifröst and in Laufey’s demise. Perhaps there would come a time when he could come clean about that too, but the wounds were too fresh for now and he couldn’t risk it.

Some others joined them as the time passed, including Vænn and Býleistr’s female companion with a young boy at her side. He was Býleistr’s son, and everyone called him Dýrr, even if it wasn’t his official name. He had none, because – Loki had just learned – picking it for oneself was a part of coming-of-age ceremony. He too had questions for Loki, most of which Loki gladly answered.

And, while they sat there, around the warm fire, breaking fast and sharing stories, Loki couldn’t help but imagine how his life would have turned out if he had actually grown up here.

Not that bad, he decided.

---

“So, how are we going to do this? I suppose that with Asgard being involved it will take a lot of papers and a lot of scribes to prepare all those…”

“Yes,” Loki said. “But I do have a small token of my goodwill with me today.”

He waved his hands, conjuring the Casket, then held it up for Býleistr.

Býleistr’s eyes went wide in surprise, then he glared at Loki. “You’re going to give it to me, just like that?”

“I’m the king of Asgard, it’s not like someone could say no,” Loki said lightly, then added, with a bit of more somber note to it, “Your people went without it for long enough.”

“Thank you, Loki.”

Loki waved his hand dismissively and Býleistr laughed.

He didn’t blast Loki with the Casket either. Not that Loki exactly expected it to happen, but the thought was there and the protection spell tingled at his fingertips.

“I don’t know how to use it,” the man said instead, putting the box away. “We will have our seers handle it.”

“That’s probably a wise call,” Loki said, then shook Dýrr’s arm. The boy had fallen asleep in his lap during one of Loki’s stories. “You’ll be more comfortable in bed, young man.”

The boy rubbed his eyes and blinked at Loki, confused with the rude awakening. “You’re going back to the bad place?” he asked.

Loki cleared his throat. “It’s not that bad, actually. Maybe your parents will take you to see it one day? Would you like that?”

The boy shook his head fervently. “The Æsir eat Jötnar babies. I don’t want to be eaten.”

“You won’t, if I can help it,” Loki said with a sigh.

On this side of the war, Loki was still a monster one scared their children with.

---

Býleistr and Mikill accompanied him to the Bifröst site. The night had fallen and the wind picked up but, if anything, it felt refreshing after the time he spent inside and the faint glow of  Jötunheimr’s ring and moons was enough to disperse the darkness before his eyes.

“The star of the ancestors shines bright tonight,” Býleistr remarked, gazing at the horizon. “It’s a good sign.”

Loki knew nothing of that custom, so he just nodded.

“I’ll send messengers to the other keeps. Many chiefs will want to meet you. It’s not every day one sees a Jötunn on Asgard’s throne.”

“I still have my obligations to the rest of the Nine.”

Býleistr shrugged. “You’ve done more good for this realm in one day than any Æsir king ever did. Return when you can and I’ll make sure you’re welcome here.”

“I…” he started and his resolve faltered. He couldn’t tell Býleistr what he had done, as much as he wanted this burden off his shoulders. It wouldn’t change anything but make him feel better about himself. “Thank you,” he managed to squeeze out of his tightened throat. “Stay well, friend.”

“Stay well, brother,” Býleistr said, when Loki had already turned away.

That too, was for the best. It wouldn’t do the Jötnar any good to see Loki’s tears.

---

“My king, is everything all right?” asked Heimdall as Loki landed in the Observatory. His knees buckled and he stayed down for a moment, gathering his strength.

Heimdall reached to help him up and Loki swatted his hand away, then pulled himself up on his own.

“Your skin…”

“What about it?” Loki snarled, fully aware of his own looks. Asgard’s air felt unbearably hot after the chill of Jötunheimr.

“People might see.”

Loki shrugged, but relented under the glare. And it was getting kind of uncomfortable.

Heimdall moved to retrieve the sword.

“Leave it, I intend to use the Bifröst one more time today.”

“You’re not returning to the palace?”

“No. Not yet.”

“The Elders are waiting for you. They are very discontent you went to Jötunheimr without consulting them first.”

“Let them wait. It’s their fault they decided to meet without an order.”

“Where are you going?”

Loki considered telling the Watcher it was none of his goddamned business, but that would have been counterproductive. He needed to know where Loki was going to aim the Bifröst accordingly. “To see my friends.”

Chapter Text

He stayed on Tony’s roof for a moment, taking in the sights. The last time he had stood in this exact spot he had been chained and silenced, had his magic bound and he had been heading for an eternity of imprisonment with little hope of escape. And now he was here again. As a free man. As a king.

There was the sound of footsteps. He turned and his lips turned up into a smile. Tony just passed the door and was walking towards him.

“I thought you forgot about us already,” the man said and a wide grin brightened up his face.

Loki extended his hand and got pulled into an embrace instead.

“It was just a few days.”

“Over three weeks from our perspective.”

“I meant to come earlier, but…”

“Don’t worry about it,” Tony said and clapped his hand on Loki’s back. “It’s good to see you again.”

“Is Natasha…”

Tony’s grin widened. “She’s out running some super-secret errands I obviously have no idea about, but I messaged her the moment Jarvis registered the Bifröst signature. I’ve got alarms set up for it now, since the last time was... Yeah. Anyway, she’s in Brooklyn and should be here in half an hour. Probably quicker, knowing her,” He urged Loki inside. “Come on in, it’s kinda windy out here.”

Loki inclined his head and followed Tony inside.

He might have spent just a handful of days in the tower, some of it dead, but it still felt more like home than Asgard ever did.

Tony examined Loki’s outfit critically. “Looking sharp, Kuzco,” he judged. “The kingship is serving you well.”

“Could be worse,” Loki said with a smile. “Is Bruce still in New York?”

“Yeah, he has been postponing disappearing back into the wilderness for a while now. He claims he still has some experiments to run that require more advanced equipment than he has back home, but we both know it’s bullshit and he has been waiting for you to show up. Do not tell him I told you.”

“I won’t,” Loki promised.

“Thor is in New York too.”

“I thought he went to stay with Foster?”

“He did, but, as Jane is currently helping me with the bridge project, ‘with Foster’ is in my guest apartment at the moment. Thanks for the repeaters by the way, it was so much easier to have them already made without me having to figure it out on my own.”

“No problem. Is Thor here now?”

“They went out for a date night, I think. Jane took it to herself to show him the ways of the mortals, or something. I didn’t want to call them before I asked you in case you didn’t want to see him again so soon. I might have already overdosed on his fulsome manner and you have like a thousand-year head start over me.”

“It’s fine.”

Tony chortled. “You can call him yourself, if you want. Your stuff – including your phone – is still in your room,” Tony said and waved his hand down the hallway, then went behind the bar. “So, how about that drink while we wait?”

“Sounds good,” Loki said. He unclasped his coat and took it off, threw it on the backrest of a chair and sat by the bar.

“What’s your poison? Scotch? Vodka on ice? Brandy? Something fancier?”

“You know that those names mean absolutely nothing to me, right?”

Tony laughed. “Okay, give me a rough description of what you like, I’ll figure something out. I might be a bit of an expert.”

“I believe I’ve been promised coffee.”

“Oh… I mean, sure. I would ask you what kind, but let’s not go that route again and allow me to assume some experimentation is required.”

---

Over the course of the next twenty or so minutes Loki learned that coffee was very much an acquired taste and that there was a ridiculous number of ways one could consume it, as Tony made his machine produce one small cup after another.

The mixtures with milk or cream or sugar were the most tolerable, although Loki suspected it was because the additions diluted the bitter taste of the beverage and that seemed to destroy its purpose somewhat.

“This one is nice,” Loki said, tasting one with a copious amount of milk, whipped cream on top, lots of sugar, and some other sweet substance that Loki couldn’t identify. It was passable at best, but Tony was growing frustrated and it was such a minor thing that inconveniencing the man further seemed beyond pointless.

Tony raised an eyebrow. “I’d never take you for a mocha kind of guy,” he laughed. “I guess there’s not a single person in the universe who doesn’t like chocolate.”

“That’s the sweet thing in it, right?”

“You never had chocolate either?”

Loki shook his head.

“Oh man, you’re kidding, right?”

“Why would I?”

Tony chuckled. “Wait here.”

He trudged out of the room and Loki took another sip of his drink. It was a bit better this time, so maybe that particular taste didn’t take that long to develop?

The sun was setting over New York outside of the panoramic windows and it was just as spectacular of a sight as it usually was. Yet, the only thing Loki could think of were the scars on the streets of Utgård and how close he had come to causing similar ruin here. All the slaughter he had caused. He might never know the exact death toll on Jötunheimr, but the humans had counted for him. Eight hundred seventy-five lives lost. That was the official number and Loki made sure to burn it into his brain. Eight hundred seventy-five lives he had cut short because he wasn’t strong enough to endure, he wasn’t strong enough to stand up to…

The elevator pinged, announcing a new arrival, and all dark thoughts faded away in the blink of an eye.

Natasha was here.

She ran towards him and he met her halfway, throwing his arms around her just as she clung to him, her breath quick and erratic.

“You smell of smoke,” she muttered into his clothes, “is something on fire in Asgard? Or was?”

“No,” he chuckled, “I was sitting in a small, smoky room on Jötunheimr for the most of the day.”

She pulled away and crooked her head, regarding him cautiously. “You went to Jötunheimr? How did it go?”

“Rather well, I’d say. I handed the Casket back to the Jötnar, so they can rebuild what my attack destroyed. And I met my brother.”

She blinked. “You have a brother? Like, other than Thor?”

“Yes. Two, to be exact, but I only met the eldest one today. He rules Jötunheimr now.”

“So, it went just as Odin planned,” she grinned, “two worlds, two crowns, two brothers.”

“If you put it like this…”

She grabbed him by the nape of his neck and pulled him in for a kiss before he even finished the sentence.

“You’re getting good at this,” she said, licking her lips, “and you taste delicious, too.”

“I’ve got a good teacher. And Tony’s made me coffee with chocolate in it.”

“Where’s he, anyway?” she asked, looking around.

“He stormed off after I told him I never had chocolate before.”

There was a rumble outside and Iron Man landed on the perch behind the window and walked inside, the armor unfolding around him. It was a new model Loki hadn’t seen before. He was carrying a box.

“Hi,” he waved at Natasha.

“What’s that?” she asked, pointing at the package.

“That is the best Belgian chocolate you’re ever going to not get a single bite of, since it’s not for you,” he said with smirk.

“You went all the way to Belgium to get some candies?”

“No, I went to a fancy confectionery in East Village, but I do appreciate the fact that the idea popped into your head,” he said and clapped onto his seat at the dining table and started tearing the package apart.

“I didn’t see you leave,” Loki pointed out, sitting down as well.

“I used the rooftop. What’s the point of grand gestures if the beneficent can guess what you’re going to do before you do it?”

Loki shook his head in disbelief, but truth be told, he very much appreciated the thought. Tony had wasted time just to bring Loki a treat in a pointless, selfless act of kindness.

“Thank you,” he said.

Tony was done with the wrapping, so he peeled the lid off the box. Inside were small, more or less round, dark brown… things. It didn’t look much like any food Loki had eaten before, didn’t smell like anything, either.

“Come on, try one,” Tony urged and Loki picked one and turned it between his fingers, not sure how he was supposed to eat it. “Just put it on your tongue and let it melt,” Tony said and popped one into his mouth. “Oh god, I forgot how good those are,” he mumbled.

Loki did as he was told. It was sweet, with just a tinge of bitterness, then creamy and soft and in fact, absolutely delicious. He grabbed another and Tony grinned at him.

“Too many of those can make you fat and I’ll have to pay for this with a long, painful session in the gym,” Tony said, stuffing two more into his mouth, “but looking at you, you’re still a good couple hundred boxes away from crossing that particular line.”

The elevator pinged again and Bruce stepped out. “I’m sorry, I had my phone turned off, did something…” His eyes landed on Loki and worry drained away from his face. “Hello,” he said. “You look well.”

“So I’ve been told,” Loki said with a smile, “repeatedly, in fact.”

“It’s true, that must be why,” Natasha said and sneaked one of the chocolates out of the box and into her mouth. “We’re having the unhealthiest dinner imaginable. Coffee and sweets. Want some?”

Bruce nodded and came over to sit by the table.

The other elevator pinged.

“Hey, why did nobody tell me we’re having a reunion party?” Clint said, stepping out.

“I instructed Jarvis to inform you, but you didn’t turn the speakers back on after you disabled them last week.”

“I’ve been lonely, okay?” Clint jeered and joined them at the table, patting Loki on his back as he passed. “Good to see you again. So, how’s the floaty castle doing?”

Loki took a long breath and started talking and as he did, all the doubt and all the tension slowly drained away. He didn’t need to keep secrets here; he didn’t have to watch his words.

He was among friends after all.

“I’ll get you a couple of books on trauma recovery,” Bruce offered after Loki told them about Hela. “It might not be much, but maybe it will help.”

“I’m sure it will, thank you,” he said.

“You’ve got good instincts though,” Bruce added, “and that’s what matters the most. I’m sure that she can get better if you continue to care for her and be around. She needs a friend right now.”

“I just wish she could have the kind of help I did,” he said quietly.

“She does,” Natasha said, her fingers tracing the lines of his palm where it rested idly on her lap and Loki chose to believe that, if just for this moment.

---

Thor and Jane joined in later in the evening and Loki had to suffer yet another one of Thor’s bear hugs.

Then they sat and talked and laughed, well into the night.

There was a small crisis – as in lighting stroking the roof of the tower – when Loki retold the story of his journey to Vanaheimr and learning about Hela from their aunt, but Thor got over being lied to surprisingly quickly.

Now you know how it feels like, brother, Loki thought, but refrained from saying it out loud. Condescension would do neither of them any good.

Tony quickly changed the subject and went on at length about his progress on the bridge. If everything went well – and Tony was just as optimistic about it as he was about most of his endeavors – it shouldn’t take more than a few Earth months to get it to work.

Jane interjected with a couple of reservations of her own and Loki realized the humans had already moved past his own scope of understanding and into the finer details, like handling excess energy and protecting the environment from the radiation coming from outer space once the wormhole was opened – neither of which was much of a concern in Asgard, since they powered the bridge with a link to the universal energy and not a physical power source and the opening could be shielded with magic.

He still explained how it was done in Asgard to the best of his comprehension.

“I think we could emulate that,” Tony mused, “if we generated a strong enough forcefield around the whole setup. We don’t need magic for that. And we are using an array of breakers to isolate the source from a potential surge for now. It should be enough for a test run. Which brings us to another thing I have to ask you for.”

Loki gestured him to go on.

“Since we are getting close to getting the prototype to work, we are going to need, well, a destination. So far – as humanity in general – we only charted our own star system and even that is not as precise as I’d like. And we only have the barebone model of how the rest of the universe looks like. And you need inch-perfect coordinates to not end up in the void of space, with a model that accounts for movement of the celestial bodies, the expansion of the universe, the entropy and all that jazz… I don’t think we can do that alone within my lifetime.”

“There are precise star charts in the Asgardian library, but we would have to figure out a way of converting the models into something that could be interpreted by your computers.”

Tony scratched his chin. “I assume it’s not stored on paper?”

“No, it’s… similar to the way you store your data in virtual clouds, but it doesn’t use binary as the underlying code.”

“I think I can work with that. Do you know more details?”

What ensued was a long discussion on technical specifics, quantum computing and ciphers.

“Can you two nerds get a room or something?” Clint said with a yawn, looking up from his phone.

Natasha’s act of involved interest was admirable, but her eyes were glossy and unfocused. Thor might have fallen asleep with his eyes open. He had perfected that art during their lessons.

“Oh, I’m sorry that the crucial factors of a project that will revolutionize science for ages to come bores you, Clint,” Tony sneered. “Can’t you understand how important this is?”

“I’m just a simple man, with simple needs,” Clint shot back with a shrug. “And my need right now is not to be bored to death.”

Tony rolled his eyes with a scoff.

“I’ll bring a sample the next time I’m on Earth,” Loki said, “and we can sort it out together then.”

Tony yielded with a despondent nod.

“Loki?” Bruce murmured shyly, “before we move on, can I have a request on my own?”

Loki made a wide gesture. “Sure.”

“Well, it’s more like a question, really. I… Uhm, I’ve studied the blood samples I got from you some more,” he said shyly and looked at Loki with embarrassment. “I wasn’t planning to use it like that, at first I was just running the analysis to find the right compound to… you know, and I found some unique DNA structures in there. I know I should have asked first, but you were not around and it looked like something that could help with the big guy problem…”

“It did?” Loki asked with a tilt of his head.

“The structures look a bit similar to the ones I have in my own DNA since the gamma radiation incident but are significantly more stable. If I could replicate the pattern and somehow apply it to my own mutation, I might be able to make the transformation more permanent.”

Loki blinked, taken aback. “You want to change into the Hulk for good?”

Bruce shook his head. “No, no, I enjoy being myself on most days. But the countermeasure for him is already out there and it’s so simple, yet so effective. Hulk is way more useful in a battle than I am. If we are to stand against the biggest foe that had ever attacked Earth, I need the transformation to be reliable. Hulk’s metabolism would deal with any toxin or tranquilizing agent in no time if I could make it stick even when he falls unconscious.”

“Wouldn’t that be risking him never giving the steering wheel up back to you?” Tony asked.

Bruce shrugged. “Could be. But I think I need to learn to trust him a bit more and hope he could trust me back.”

Loki nodded, pondering on Bruce’s words. It was fascinating, really. Loki had assumed his shapeshifting was a purely magical gift, but if it had things in common with Bruce’s transformation into the Beast and if it could be traced to his genetical makeup, that meant it was not entirely magical. It also made sense why it would be hereditary that way.

He cleared his throat. “The structures are there because, as it turns out, I’m a shapeshifter,” he said lightly and held back the snigger at Thor’s petrified expression. “That’s how I can appear as I do and change looks without any spell. It wasn’t Odin’s magic that made me look like an Æsir all those years, but my own innate, well, talent.”

Bruce scratched his head. “That’s… That might be it, yeah. The structures look like stabilizing agents because they are and they are more stable because they are an effect of natural evolution, not a blind, one-in-a-million chance.” His smile faded and his brows furrowed. “But it also means the formations I was able to detect are just byproducts, as they’ve already served their purpose. I’d have to reverse engineer the original patterns…”

“Would a sample from my true form help?”

Bruce looked at him weirdly. “I wouldn’t dare to ask; I’ve pried enough as it is without permission...”

Loki chuckled. “That’s not a problem,” he said quickly. “I don’t know the first thing about the mechanism other than how it feels and you’d do me a great favor by studying the process. I’d love to learn more about it too.”

The very notion was exciting. If he could understand what was exactly happening in his body whenever he changed, it would indubitably help him explore the skill more and get better at it. Perhaps the thought about someone experimenting on his secrets should unnerve Loki – it probably would if it were anybody else – but in this case he couldn’t bring himself to be concerned. He had placed his wellbeing – his life – in Bruce’s and Tony’s and Natasha’s hands willingly and had come out better on the other end. It was an act of utter desperation, that was true, but it had worked and Loki knew he could trust them in a way that he had never trusted anyone else before. Not even himself.

That was also a new, pleasant feeling.

“Uhm, sure, of course. We can make arrangements for the next time you’re here and…”

“Why wait? I’m here, you’re here, we can do it right now. You’ll have resources to study right away.”

“You’re serious about this,” Bruce said with no small dose of disbelief.

“Of course I am. Go grab your equipment.”

Bruce didn’t need to be told twice. “It will take just a second,” he said, sprung from his seat and ran to the elevator, presumably to go to the lab.

“Come on,” Clint urged, “don’t keep us hanging.”

Loki’s eyes dashed to Natasha.

“It will be fine, you’ll see,” she said with a reassuring smile.

“You saw it?” Tony blurted out, then looked at Loki with a quiet apology, if just very briefly.

“Yep,” she said with a grin. “It’s awesome.”

“Hey, no spoilers!”

“Thor?” Loki prompted. His brother’s face was drawn, his brows knitted with worry and he had stayed uncharacteristically silent throughout the whole exchange. He might know what Loki was, but knowing was different than seeing and Thor’s hate towards the Jötnar ran much deeper – and for much longer – than his newfound acceptance.

“It’s still you, right? It’s just your looks that change?”

“Yes.”

Thor nodded. “Then it doesn’t matter,” he said, very unconvincingly.

Loki closed his eyes. The magic obeyed him immediately, the transformation becoming more and more natural each time he did it.

“Damn!” Tony exclaimed and Clint whistled.

Loki looked up at Thor. His brother nodded and his gaze quickly dashed away, but he kept the determined, serious expression on his face. He was making an effort, but one did not get rid of ages of teachings in a heartbeat.

Jane, on the other hand, was staring at him with astonished curiosity. “How does that work, exactly?” she asked. “Are you actually altering all the cells of your body or is it more like a camouflage?”

“As I said, I’m not sure,” Loki admitted, “but it’s a physical rather than just an illusory change. I can do things like this…” He put up his hand and made his fingers grow into elongated claws. “The Jötnar told me that an experienced shapeshifter can change their form completely, altering their physical properties like mass and density, growing extra limbs, or even shifting into animals and creatures. I haven’t figured out that part yet though.”

“That’s… absolutely extraordinary,” Tony said, leaning on the table to get a better look, “and I don’t use that description often, mind you.”

“Can you, like, change into a woman?” Clint asked, waving his hands in front of his chest in a wholly too telling manner. Jane eyed him critically and the table rocked as Natasha kicked him under it. Clint shrugged. “What? Don’t tell me you’re not curious!”

Loki tapped his finger on his lower lip, considering. It should be doable, at least in theory. His grasp of the process wasn’t good enough for full biological correctness but changing the outer appearance should be straightforward enough.

He let the Jötnar blue fade away. He didn’t feel up to the task of doing it in his true skin, since his only first-hand experience with females of his own species had been this very morning. But he had enough of an idea about the Æsir – or human, for that matter – anatomy to make it believable.

It was just adjusting small details, really. A bit softer jawline and cheekbones, higher eyebrows, fuller lips, different hairline, narrower shoulders, and wider hips, some curves where there were none.

When he looked back up at Clint, the man was grinning maniacally. “Now, that’s an improvement!”

Thor’s face was a lot more open now too. He was familiar with this form, at least to some extent. Loki had used it before as a deception tactic, albeit as an illusion.

“Knowing Nat’s preferences, you might want to remember this one,” Clint added with a sneer.

Natasha threw a spoon at him then turned to Loki. “Don’t listen to him. Besides, I don’t recommend being a woman in this man’s world.”

Tony scoffed in pretended indignation and Jane laughed nervously.

“Okay, I definitely missed something,” said Bruce, returning into the room and taking the scene in. “Is this another form you can take?”

Loki nodded. He didn’t want to say anything, because he wasn’t sure what physical alterations he should apply to change his voice in a believable manner. Sure, he could use illusion magic for that but both Natasha and Thor would see it was a deception; it was better to leave it like this for now, until he experimented with it a bit more.

Bruce showed up a transparent plastic box containing vials and syringes. “You want to do it in, uhm, somewhere more private?”

Loki shook his head with a chuckle. Most of the humans here had seen him at his lowest, exhausted to the point of being unable to stand up on his own and being fed through a tube. At least three of them had seen him dead. A prick with a needle was nothing compared to that.

He rolled up his sleeve. The scars on his wrist had withstood the change and remained when he returned to his Jötnar form, pale gray against blue skin.

Bruce made a surprised sound and tried masking it with a cough. “I wish my own change was as nondestructive to my wardrobe,” he added and awkwardly looked away, then moved to sit on the empty chair next to Loki. He picked up one syringe from the box, sprinkled foul smelling disinfectant on a gauze – bringing back all sorts of unwanted memories Loki fought to push away – but hesitated before touching Loki’s skin.

“Is it safe to…”

Loki had told them about the properties of a Jötnar touch, because at that point it was what he assumed was true.

“Yes, it turns out it’s something I’d have to use consciously. But it could perhaps still work as an involuntary defensive measure, so do be careful.”

“Oh, okay,” Bruce muttered, then rubbed the skin on his forearm and tried to push the needle into it, just to have it bend out of shape without doing any damage. “Uhm…”

Loki’s magic was back to protect him now. He focused on temporarily removing his defenses, pushing the magic back as it protested at the disruption. “Try now.”

Bruce picked up a new syringe. This attempt worked a lot better and Loki watched as the small containers slowly filled with his blood. It seemed brighter red than what he was used to seeing, but it could be just the contrast with the current color of his skin. The glass quickly grew misty with condensation.

“Done,” Bruce announced after filling three vials halfway through.

“You don’t need more?”

Bruce smiled. “No. This is more than enough for all the tests I want to run. Thank you, you’re doing me a great favor.”

Loki nodded in acknowledgment.

Tony got up and went into the kitchen area, then rummaged through the pantry cupboard for a minute, before returning. There was something that – judging mostly from the source – might be another unknown food item in his hand. He kept it up with a victorious grin, then handed it to Loki and burst out laughing at his own – Loki presumed – joke.

Loki examined the curious object closely. It was some sort of red, sugary candy, sitting on a stick, wrapped in cellophane. Clint choked on a chortle while trying to keep himself from laughing out loud, just furthering Loki’s confusion.

“It’s a lollipop,” Natasha said finally, shortening his suffering. “It’s customary to give those to children when they behave well during a doctor’s visit.”

Loki wasn’t sure if he was supposed to be more outraged or endeared, so he just shrugged, unwrapped the lollipop and stuck it into his mouth. It was indeed sweet and had an artificial fruity flavor, amplified by his overly sensitive Jötnar taste buds.

“Not bad, but I like chocolate more,” he decided and Tony started laughing again.

---

The night wound down not long after that. Jane beckoned Thor back to their room and Bruce used the opportunity to excuse himself too.

“I have to get back,” Loki said with a sigh.

“Stay,” Natasha said quietly and wrapped her fingers around his arm. “Just for one night. Asgard can manage without you till the morning.”

He hesitated.

“Please?”

He nodded and a bright smile lit up her face. He didn’t find it suitable to point out it was still early afternoon in Asgard.

Natasha was still using the room they had been sharing, and she made him shower before she allowed him into the bed, only to join him a moment later, making him gasp in surprise when she grabbed his waist from behind and pressed her cheek to his shoulder blade.

“You didn’t think I could keep my hands to myself, did you?” she chuckled at the undignified noise that escaped his throat.

Loki closed his eyes and basked in the warmth of the hot streams raining down on his shoulders, of her hands on his stomach and of the one in his heart, which seemed to be the kindest of them all.

---

“I missed this so much,” she whispered.

Loki hummed in response, already half-asleep. They were trying to watch a movie, but he was more drawn to her fingers tracing the line of his ear and running gently through his hair than to the plot that unveiled on the screen.

She chuckled and her belly swayed under his cheek.

“You still can come back with me to Asgard,” he murmured.

There was a moment of silence before she spoke again, but her fingers kept on going, soft and forgiving. “I know,” she said quietly. “You have no idea how much I want to.”

“I do have a few guesses,” he whispered back and turned around to face her. Her eyes were on him and her gaze made his heart swerve in his chest. “I also understand why you can’t.”

She nodded and smiled, the sad kind of smile that always got to him.

“But it doesn’t have to be like that either. I don’t want you to stay here waiting for me, wondering when I’m coming back.”

She blinked.

“I can’t stay here and you can’t stay on Asgard. But there are so many other places in the universe that we can still go to.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You’re plotting something, I can tell.”

He smiled. “There’re still places I need to visit. And where I’m going next… Well, let’s say my memories from there are not necessarily the happiest ones. I could use some moral support if you can find a few hours in your schedule.”

She crooked her head. “You want me to go with you to space?”

“Not space, technically. It’s more of a space station.”

“A space station,” she echoed numbly.

“Yes. Tell me, have you ever met a dwarf before?”

---

Loki slunk out at the break of dawn, not waking anybody with his egress. He couldn’t bring himself to say farewells one more time and he was planning on returning soon, after all.

Heimdall was there to welcome him but he stepped back the moment he noticed Loki’s expression and saved whatever small comment he had prepared for later.

Loki shoved the box he had brought into his hands without a word, then straightened out his clothes and headed for the palace. Heimdall caught up to him after a few steps, despite the cumbersome armor making running quite a troublesome endeavor.

“What is this?” he asked.

“You’ve been watching humans for centuries; I bet you do have a guess.”

“What am I supposed to do with mortal food?”

“Eat it?”

“Why?”

“Just try it. I think you’re going to like it. I did.”

Heimdall stopped. Loki did not. He also did not look back, but he could imagine the dumbfounded look on the Watcher’s face well enough.

---

The Council took the best part of the evening to give him grief about handing over the Casket without getting anything in return.

“The Jötnar can attack us now and we will be defenseless!” Njal wailed and a few other Council members accompanied him with their own reservations.

“Did our scouts report any movements of the Jötnar troops?” Loki asked, peeling his eyes from the daily reports Udger was now responsible for preparing at the wake of each day, to the man’s utter despair.

“No.”

“Have Asgard or any of our vassals been attacked?”

“No.”

“Then make sure to inform me if any of that happens. Until then you’re free to busy yourself with some more constructive pursuits, like drafting that taxation bill I charged you with two days ago.”

“But my king! That’s impossible! The nobles will never agree to such a heavy burden…”

“Then it looks like you have quite a task to perform at convincing them otherwise. I’ll better leave you to it,” Loki said, wrapped his robes around himself and marched out of the room.

---

The castle hallways were scarcely lit and mostly empty and he almost made it back to his chambers undisturbed.

Almost.

Just as he turned the corner by the temple, a shadow shifted behind a pillar. Loki fell into a fighting stance and a dagger appeared in his hand.

“I’m sorry, my king!” the woman yelled in Vanir and backed away with her hands up in a gesture of surrender. Or perhaps just in placation. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Loki honestly resented that notion but he bit back a response. It wasn’t the woman who had scared him, but the idea who it might have been instead. He still had no shortage of enemies and he was sure he made even more today during his talks with the Council. “Then why are you hiding in the shadows waiting for me?”

“I…” she started, took a step forward into the light, fell to her knees, and clutched her hands at Loki’s robes. “Thank you, my king,” she said in a wavery voice. “My husband is back home because of your mercy.”

Loki narrowed his eyes. Judging from the garb, the woman was one of the low-level palace laborers – a scullion or an ewery worker most likely – and he didn’t recognize her face. Along with the language she was using it probably meant she was one of the new hires brought from Vanaheimr to replace the staff who lost their lives in the Dökkálfar attack.

“I’m sorry, but I have no idea who you’re talking about.”

Just for a moment, her eyes dashed to his face before she lowered her head again. She unfurled her fingers, letting go of Loki’s clothes, and sat back on her haunches. “My husband was condemned to a life of slavery,” she said thinly, “but now he is back in Vanaheimr under your infinite grace, my king.”

The woman’s husband must’ve been one of the rebels Loki’s treaty with Gersemi had freed from indentured servitude then. One of the lucky ones who were not judged by Odin directly but by some middleman, based on existing laws, who could have been send home right away. That also meant the man had never been much of a criminal mastermind, just some misguided fool who listened to those who shouted the loudest. It were the leaders who used to get singled out to stand before the All-Father. Loki had a few ideas as to the workaround for that too, but it still had to wait.

“That’s a bit of an overstatement,” Loki said lightly. “You can get up, by the way,” he added.

He was not a big proponent for reverently crawling on the floor before one’s superiors, especially since it had been him on the other side of this scenario way too often in the past.

The woman looked up at him with incredulity and her eyes grew even wider when he extended his hand to help her up.

“Despite what the gossip must be saying, I’m not going to freeze your arm off,” he said.

She did grab his hand then, but not without hesitation.

Loki stifled a sigh.

“What’s your name?”

“Mirai, my king.”

“Walk with me, Mirai,” he said and started down the hallway, towards his chambers. A heartbeat passed before he heard her skirts ruffling when she decided to follow.

“You’re very kind, my king,” she whispered as she matched her stride to his. Her head was still down. Whoever had been responsible for her training had managed to hammer in the self-abatement part well.

“I can tell you’re not from around here,” he said with a humorless chuckle.

She didn’t answer, only stared back at him with obvious panic. For someone in her position, it was not a good thing to be anyone’s confidant, much less the king’s.

“I assume you took the position here to be with your husband, right?”

She nodded and looked down at her hands.

“How did it work out?”

She took an unsteady breath before answering. “I could barely leave the palace and Teru – uhm, I mean Ove – was serving in Lord’s Stigr mansion in the mountains.”

It was not uncommon to rename slaves with something more in line with the Æsir tradition and Loki had always found the approach notably appalling, denying one not only their freedom, but also their name.

“Then why are you still on Asgard?”

“The contract, my king.” She paused, gathering the courage to speak. “It’s ten years long and I only started five months ago.”

It was not common to bind the staff with such covenants, but it was also not completely unheard of, especially with people from other realms who might use an extra incentive to stay in place once they had been granted passage to the Realm Eternal.

“It’s all right, I will return home when I serve it out,” she added when he didn’t respond. “I’m sleeping soundly knowing my husband is safe and that’s what counts.”

“You can go now.”

She stopped and stared at him in utter befuddlement. “I don’t understand,” she stumbled out.

“You’re dismissed. I hereby void your contract. You’re free to leave. Even now, if you don’t want to wait till the morning.”

She stared at him, her eyes filling with tears, then moved to kneel again. He stopped her by grabbing her arm.

“That won’t be necessary.”

“Thank you!” she rasped and made a move as if to throw her arms around him before she stopped herself and a horrified expression at the realization of what she had almost done crossed her face.

“Go, before I change my mind,” Loki said and waved his hand at her.

She bowed, so low her bonnet fell off her head and her hair swept the floor, gathered her skirts, and scurried down the hall without saying anything else.

He went into his rooms, took off his coat, and kicked off his boots, then he just stood there, staring out of the window. There was no point in starting any work, he was going to be interrupted any minute now by an office assistant demanding him to officially confirm the dismissal.

The stars were shining above the city like they did every night. Loki allowed himself to relax, just a little. A small smile crept up to his lips and he let it stay.

Despite all odds, Asgard didn’t go up in flames under Loki’s rule. Quite to the contrary, in fact.