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Loki returns after exactly a year has passed, not a day before. He slips past Heimdall, neither sparing the other a glance, and slinks through the shadows of the palace to his chambers. His steps are slow, even, though he'd rather run; his breathing under tight control.
Little lights appear when he sets foot in his quarters – kept clean but with an air of emptiness to it – rooms no one has lived in for a while.
Loki eases himself on a bed, takes off his boots, most of his clothes. He keeps his mind blank as he lies down and closes his eyes; the lights cast illusions of calm and safety.
*
He doesn't show his face for days, though he knows Heimdall informed his family (were they his family, though? Questions questions) of his return. Frigga's knocks are gentle, her voice even more so when she calls his name; he senses Odin's presence, quiet and encompassing, though he never says a word. Thor uses everything short of Mjolnir to break down his doors, but the charms he placed hold. He hears servants shuffling around, clink of the plates on the floor.
He is actually starving, but he doesn't move from the bed. Burried underneath the covers (hot, way too hot), he tries to forget.
*
Thor actually swings Mjolnir at the locked doors. It takes three hits before enchantments and wood break down and crumble, and then his voice carries over to where Loki has cocooned himself.
'Brother! Where are you? Why do you hide from us?'
Loki remains silent. It doesn't take Thor long to figure out the weird lump on the bed, and the covers are peeled off in seconds. He hears sharp intake of breath, and then quieter 'Loki? Are you unwell? What is wrong?'
Loki doesn't want to deal with this. Not yet, not ever.
Thor calls for healers, for Mother.
*
Physically, there is nothing seriously wrong with him, except the way his skin is stretched over his bones, joints jutting out. Thor can count his ribs and on his stomach there are scars Frigga is herself familiar with.
*
There is a feast in celebration of his return, of course, but the atmosphere is tense and Loki feels eyes following his every move. The music is lively and dishes exemplary, and there is talk, but no one adresses him directly, save a vague 'Welcome' at the beginning.
He picks at his food, ignoring Frigga's pleading looks, Thor's attempts to make him drink more, to relax.
Later in the night, when the talk is more loud and men are encouraged by the mead in their blood, Volstagg leans in and says 'I bet you're glad you're finally somewhere warm again.'
'As a matter of fact,' Loki replies evenly as he turns to look at Odin, 'I never, for a moment, felt cold.'
'What? You weren't cold? On Jotunheim? Bah!'
'Was it because of your magic?'
'No', he answers, still looking at Odin, who refused to make eye-contact. 'It was not my magic.'
A third person butts in 'Your lover kept you warm? I never thought they could do that…then again, I never bedded a Jotun. What was it like?'
'Aye, he was more than twice your size, how did you work that out?'
'A toast to our prince!' yet another new voice yells 'Who bedded a Jotun monster and survived!'
The cheering dies down as Loki abruptly stands up and leaves.
*
Surprisingly, it's Odin who seeks him, who follows him out in the gardens, finds him under an ash tree. With some difficulty, he sits down on the grass. It's silent for a while.
*
Odin clears his throat, begins to say 'My son – ' but Loki cuts him off.
'Am I, though? Your son?'
'Whose son you'd be, if not mine?'
'…I wonder.'
'Loki…'
'Tell me, then, father mine. Why did my skin turn blue whenever he touched me?'
'It must've been your magic protecting you', a lie, it has to be a lie – Loki knows this, Odin knows this.
'It wasn't magic', Loki's voice is sharp.
Odin says nothing. When the silence stretches, Loki asks one more question, quieter: 'Why did you rather give up me than Freya?'
'…he asked for Sun and Moon and her.'
'Ah, yes, I remember. I guess I should be flattered that I alone was enough to substitute for those three', his voice is flat, lifeless.
When Odin responds, there is anger in the way he holds his shoulders. 'Loki', his voice is deceptively gentle, 'what exactly happened there?'
Loki's eyes look dead and cold in the night.