Chapter 1 - Love and Forgive, Never Trust

The morning dawned fresh and golden in Asgard, sweeping away the spring's night chill and leaving dewdrops glittering on the grass and spring birds serenading the Realm. Today was the third day of Princess Althea's residence in Asgard. Today was the day that the Avengers—minus Thor—would return to Earth. But that was for later in the evening. This morning was intended to be filled with good food, storytelling, talk amongst old comrades, and surreptitious observation of the green-eyed prince and his bride. Seeing the change in Loki's demeanor when he spent any amount of time with Thea fascinated everyone.

Thor stepped into the dining hall a few hours after dawn and smiled to see Steven, Tony, Banner, and Coulson enjoying breakfast with Thor's brothers. The twins, Hermod and Balder, had taken a liking to young Captain Rogers during his brief stay. They were—relatively—close in age, and Steven seemed to relax around the twins in a way he rarely did among his fellow Avengers. Perhaps because, like Steven, Hermod and Balder had seen battle, lost friends, and suffered the effects of being nearly immortal when so many of the things they loved and treasured were not.

Tony had hit it off immediately with Tyr, Odin's eldest son, and now the two of them laughed uproariously at some ribald joke. Volstagg and Fandral joined in. Banner, usually so reserved, smiled at whatever Tony had said. Hogun, a match for Banner's quietude, smiled as well.

Víðarr sat a little ways apart, enjoying breakfast with his wife, Bellalyse. Sif ate quietly as well. Thor noticed two empty seats on her left and another on her right. Smiling, he took the single seat on the right, which put him between the warrior maiden and Coulson.

"Good morning, Sif," Thor said as a serving maid brought a platter of breakfast meats and another server brought a bowl of fruit. He nodded to his Midgardian friend. "Son of Coul."

Coulson smiled. "Son of Odin." Then that smile sharpened at one corner into a smirk. "Donald."

Thor grinned. "It was a clever ruse, was it not?"

A minute shake of the head made the crown prince smile even wider. "We flagged your identity as false the moment we ran it through our computers. We knew you were lying. We just wanted to see what you intended to do once you were out. We didn’t expect you to get Dr. Selvig drunk."

With a shrug and a smile, Thor said, "We drank, we fought. He made his ancestors proud. It was a good day, despite everything that had happened." Such as hearing—and believing—that his father was dead. An echo of that old pain tightened like an iron band across his chest before the prince shoved it away. His father was well, his twin brother returned to him. He had new kin in the form of his sister-in-law and little Sophie. Things were good now. Despite the conflicts sweeping through the Nine Realms, despite the whispers at court because Loki had been released from prison, today life was good.

And life got a bit better when a delighted squeal echoed through the dining hall. Small feet tapped sharp and quick on the smooth, stone floor as the voice of a young child cried, "Unka Tor!" Thor twisted around on the dining bench in time to scoop up a small toddler in a green and gold dress, hoisting her into his arms so that her sable curls bounced and she squealed happily. Emerald eyes just like her father's sparkled with excitement.

"An escaped prisoner, I see," Thor said with a grin. Sophie giggled and slid her arms around Thor's neck. "And where, pray tell, are your wardens?" Blue eyes followed the little finger that pointed toward the entrance to the dining hall. A tight knot of something, something that the Asgardian always carried in his chest when Loki was out of his sight, suddenly eased and uncoiled.

Loki stood in the shadow of the wide doorway, a soft look on his usually aloof features. Thin lips curved into a smile as he spoke quietly to the slender woman beside him—Thea. Her silvery blue eyes danced as she wriggled like an excited child. She seemed to be pleading with Loki for something. The Frost Giant sighed and took Thea's hand, brushing his lips across her knuckles. Thea's eyebrows rose and pressed her lips together in a comical expression that made Loki sigh again, roll his eyes, and nod. She made a squeaking sound that drew everyone's attention as she threw her arms around Loki's neck.

"Daddy say Mommy can tell now," Sophie murmured, beaming. "Good. Secrets is hard to keep secret."

Thor frowned at her. "What secret, little one?"

Instead of answering, Sophie gasped and clapped her hands to her mouth. She gazed up at her favorite uncle with wide eyes and shook her head, making a funny, muffled sound of negation. But then she smiled a sly sort of smile, one that fairly screamed I know something you don’t know, and giggled.

Adopting a mock-fierce scowl, Thor growled, "What secret?" He tickled Sophie's ribs and she laughed.

"Not telling, not telling! Daddy! Unka Tor trying make me tell!"

"I will take that," Loki said, drawing near and plucking Sophie from Thor's lap. "Thank you." Settling his daughter on his hip, Loki smiled at her. "There; you're safe now, darling." Sophie snuggled against him. Thor chuckled; they'd learned in the single full day the little family had been in this Realm that once she latched on, it would take the strength of ten Asgardians to pry Sophie off of the father she'd only found two days ago.

Balder propped his elbows on the table, since Frigga wasn’t there to chastise him. Smiling at his brothers, he asked, "What secret is the little princess referring to, Loki? Tell us."

Hermod nodded. "Yes, you must tell. What is it?"

Loki glanced at Thea, who slowly—almost shyly—approached the breakfast table. His entire body, usually held sharp and rigid, ready for a battle with anyone who might try to match that icy temper and infamously venomous tongue…suddenly went soft and loose. A smile that was becoming increasingly familiar spread across the pale face. Emerald eyes warmed like sunlight through green glass. But there was something more than tenderness in Loki's expression now. Something more than love in his gaze. Adoration melted the harshness from his features as he held out a hand to Thea, who threaded her fingers through his as she drew near.

"Do you wish to tell them?" Loki asked. Thor noticed the way he tucked Thea against his side as if sheltering her; the way his thumb brushed gently back and forth across the back of her hand.

This was the hand, the crown prince realized, that she'd burned so badly as a little girl. He couldn’t see her palm, but one side of her hand was smooth and almost shiny, covered in scarring from the burn she had sustained once when her eldest brother had been practicing with his mutant powers. It was also the hand that bore her gold wedding ring with its vivid emerald glinting like a green star when she moved her heart-finger.

Thea opened her mouth, shot a wary look at Coulson of all people, and closed it again. Coulson raised an eyebrow before focusing on Loki. The fostered prince suddenly stiffened beneath that cool gaze. Thea glanced at her husband, then at her adoptive father. Coulson took a sip from his mug.

"Phillip, son of Coul," Loki said, his voice strained. "I owe you a great deal. I must ask your pardon for—"

"The really big scar on my chest?" Coulson asked without inflection. He shrugged. "Felt like I was dying…but I didn't. And the only reason I didn’t was because you healed me. And the only reason I got my daughter back was because you sent me to go find her. You kept her alive in that place. You kept her and Sophie alive. You don't owe me anything. I'm the one who owes you, since apparently the illusion thing you made of me ended up shooting you through a wall."

Loki huffed a laugh. The tension seeped out of him like poison draining from a wound. "Well, I did infuse it with your memories and personality."

"That means if it had really been you, you would've shot him too, Phil," Thea said with a grin. She shook her head. "Shame, shame, shame. Good thing we got married before you got your hands on a shotgun." Coulson grinned back at her.

Sophie stared at her grandfather with eyes so wide Thor thought they might pop out of her head. "Gampa…you shoot Daddy?"

Coulson eyed his granddaughter. Thor had the suspicion he'd momentarily forgotten about her, since she was half-hidden by Loki's body. "Uh…with a water pistol. Got him all wet. It was terrible. I ruined his hair."

A disdainful sniff from the prince in question. "Alas. My hair. The horror."

"You're not going to distract us," Tyr said around a large mouthful of sausage. Sophie made a face at her uncle's manners. "Tell us this secret."

Silvery blue eyes flicked to Coulson again as Thea and Loki took the two empty seats on Sif's left, putting Sif between Thea and Thor. Thea made stalling noises while she accepted a plate of sausage and eggs and a bowl of creamy, honeyed porridge. At Loki's quiet insistence, she also got a mug of fresh milk. A sliver of suspicion wiggled into the back of Thor's mind. They had a secret…Loki seemed impossibly happy…Thea seemed concerned about Coulson's reaction to the secret, whatever it was…and now Loki was insisting Thea drink milk instead of cider or juice…

Thea brushed back a lock of hair and took a sip of milk. "Wow. This does not taste like the milk at home. This stuff is way better." She took another sip and appeared to be trying to hide in the cup when Tyr cleared his throat and gave her a fond look. She sighed. "Okay, so…well, see, Loki has really strong magic."

Thor's brows rose toward his hairline. Not what he'd expected her to say.

"And his magic is really good for different things, like…sensing stuff. Right when it happens." Thea was eyeing her father now, who'd pursed his lips and sat watching her with patient eyes, like a fox watching the entrance to a rabbit's den. Slowly, one brow began to slide up his forehead. Thea swallowed. "So that's how we know that…that even though it's only been about forty-eight hours…Dad, stop looking at me like that."

"Like what?"

"Like you're about to ground me," she muttered, smiling and eating some scrambled eggs. "I'm twenty-seven. A grownup. I moved out two days ago. And I have a job and everything. Well, had a job. I guess I have a new job. Anyway, you can't ground me for this. I'm a grownup. So you can't."

Coulson smiled. "Let me be the judge of that. What can't I ground you for?"

"Well…okay, don't freak out. But I'm, uh…we are—"

Exasperated with her mother's nervous dance of words, Sophie made an impatient noise and cried, "Mommy gonna have a baby!"

Everyone froze. Coulson's eyes widened almost imperceptibly. The corner of his mouth twitched. He shot Loki a look, but Loki was busy worshipping Thea with his gaze and didn’t appear to notice. Thor had to wonder if Loki would notice the crown prince thwacking him on the head a few times with Mjölnir. He doubted it.

The SHIELD agent said, "You guys are already planning another kid? You just got back together. Live a little bit first. Have a second honeymoon. You've still got the little hellion to worry about." To Loki he added, "Once she gets used to you, the hijinks start. Trust me."

Thea glanced at Sophie, now sitting half on her mother's lap and half on Loki's. She brushed a gentle hand over Sophie's hair before looking back to her father. "No, we're not planning on having another kid. We didn’t plan this. The beginning of the second honeymoon sort of took care of it for us."

There was approximately twenty seconds of silence, and then everyone seemed to grasp what Thea was saying all in one instant. Everyone started talking at once, asking questions, congratulating them, but Coulson's voice could be heard above the rest. "You're pregnant again? Your mother is going to be thrilled, but Theo's going to come after you."

The former mortal groaned and dropped her face into her hands. From a little ways down the table, Tyr asked, "Who is Theo?"

"My twin brother and a world champion pain in the neck. He loves to tease people about everything. He was horrible with Sophie and Ashley," she added with a rueful smile and a shake of her head. "I still remember when he told them where rainbows come from. Jeez. Yeah, he's going to be cracking jokes about me being preggers after being here for only a couple days. The only reason we even know is because of Loki's magic."

Bellalyse pushed back her dark hair. With an inviting smile, she said, "Well, this is wonderful! Víðarr and I were going to make our own announcement this morning, as well." And Víðarr gave Bellalyse the same sort of syrupy look Loki was currently bestowing on Thea.

The congratulations began all over again. Sophie wriggled off the bench to trot over to Bellalyse and look up at her with solemn green eyes for a long moment. The former Vanir smiled beatifically at the child. Sophie cocked her head like a little bird puzzling something out. She looked at Bellalyse, then at her mother, then back to Bellalyse. Finally she said, "You gonna have a baby too?"

"That's right."

"When…when da baby comes, I can touch it?" Sophie asked hopefully. "An' say hi? We be friends?"

"Of course," Bellalyse murmured. "That would be wonderful."

Sophie nodded. "Yeah. I like babies." She raced back to her parents and climbed back onto their laps. In between grunts of effort, she managed to say, "Mommy, Mommy! There be two babies now!"

Thea kissed the top of her daughter's head. "That's right. Two babies. You'll have two new friends in a little while."

At that, Sophie grew solemn again. "But…but Ashy still my best friend." Sophie frowned. A tiny wrinkle formed between her little black eyebrows. "Mommy…can Ashy spend da night here? Wif me? I miss her."

"I know, baby," Thea said. She exchanged a glance with Loki, who hesitated before giving her a look that suggested caution. Thea nodded over Sophie's head and added, "We'll talk to Grandpa Odin about it later, okay? See what he says. There might be a rule against it or something. So we'll have to see."

The little girl nodded again with a small sigh before snagging a spoon and scooping up a mouthful of porridge. "Mmm," she said, and swallowed. "I like porridge." She beamed up at her mother. "Is just right. Like in da story."

"Okay, before I get distracted," Banner said, breaking his silence to venture into the conversation. Up until this point, he'd only opened his mouth to eat and to congratulate Thea and Bellalyse. "Thea, you mentioned something about your brother and his explanation for rainbows? What's that about?"

A heavy sigh. "I'm gonna let Sophie explain that one. Sophie, honey. You remember when you asked Uncle Theo where rainbows come from?"

Mouth full of porridge, Sophie nodded. She swallowed audibly and then, to Thor's surprise, actually wiped her mouth with a napkin without having to be reminded. But then the Asgardian remembered that, like Thea, Sophie had a photographic memory. Of course she would remember something like that. Covering her mouth to stifle a tiny burp, Sophie fiddled with her spoon while she said, "Yeah. He fibbed."

"And what did he say?" Thea asked. "Tell Dr. Bruce what he said."

Twisting to get a better look at Banner, Sophie said, "So, so…so Unka Teo said that rainbows, that rainbows come from water monsters. An' they k'nap fairies an' smush dem up inside big cans full of poison," at this point Thea was massaging her temples, "an' then dey make paints outta fairy blood an' then they put invisible chains on little invisible air fairy people an' paint rainbows on 'em."

The adults stared at the child for several long moments before focusing on Thea, who looked torn between wanting to slam her head into the tabletop and crawling under the table to hide.

"Holy shi—shipwrecks," Tony muttered. "Your brother's got problems, Princess."

Thea nodded as if she'd heard that said many times. "His power gives him an unhealthy—at least I think it's unhealthy—preoccupation with creepy stuff. Like, he's the one who showed Sophie the movie Igor."

"Puh da sitch!" Sophie cried, grinning.

Her mother grinned back. "Eva!"

"Nooo, not Eva! Evil! S'posed to be evil!" Sophie complained, thunking her head back against Thea's chest hard enough to make Thea grunt.

"Just wait till you're a teenager, baby-cakes," Thea said with a grin. "Then you'll really think I'm evil."

.

The wind slashed through Theodore Valerian's windbreaker as he stepped out of his truck in the empty beach parking lot. Trees ringing the lot leaned into the harsh gale, which kicked up bits of dirt and stank of dampness. Rain was coming. Hopefully he'd get out of this place before it hit. He didn’t want to do this meeting, but he'd talked it over with Fury, with his mother, with Phil. It needed to happen. They needed to figure out who this person was that kept trying to contact him. Why Theo? Most people didn’t know what he could do. He kept his powers hidden for a reason. His claim to fame was the haunted house he erected every year for trick-or-treaters. So why did this guy keep coming to him?

A sleek black Mercedes pulled up a few yards away. Tension crept through Theo's body, squirmed like maggots in his stomach. He wished Thea was with him. Her empathy was a lot stronger than his, and her gift with memories basically gave her delayed telepathy; she'd have been able to get a better gauge on this bozo, whoever he was.

But Thea was in Asgard, where she needed to be. Life on Earth—or Midgard, whatever—hadn’t been good to her. She'd been haunted by nightmares practically every night, she'd had flashbacks sometimes to when those alien freaks had tortured her. She'd struggled to put the weight back on that she'd lost during captivity. It had taken her nearly six months to open up and talk about any of it to anyone, even him. Even their mom. And even though Theo's empathy wasn’t top-notch, he'd felt her longing and terror for Sophie's dad every day.

Thea needed to be in Asgard with Loki, her husband. Theo just wished he didn’t miss his twin so much.

The sound of a slamming car door snagged his attention and he focused on the man getting out of the front passenger side of the Mercedes. Tall, broad-shouldered, probably weighing in at around two-fifty, the guy was arrogance and danger stacked on top of solid muscle. A finely tailored black suit hid any weapons, but Theo knew the guy was armed. Had to be.

As he watched with gunmetal gray eyes, another man got out of the back of the Mercedes. Theo could still see the vague outline of the driver through the tinted windshield, and only because of his mutation—shadows weren’t a problem when he wanted to see something. But he logged the fact that there were at least three guys here into the back of his mind, then focused on the guy who'd contacted him.

The creep-factor was off the charts, just like he'd told his mom and Joie. Whoever this guy was, he was bad news—like, enjoyed setting cats on fire, bad. Theo watched him approach, all smooth in a black business suit with a swanky gray briefcase, a weird orange thing pinned to his lapel. A microphone? Maybe. Theo logged that away in his head, too. He took a moment to decide whether running a hand through his brown hair would make him seem insecure, but then the wind whipped it into his face, so he decided it didn’t matter and swiped at it, wishing his hair was long enough to pull back like his brother Austin's.

When the businessman held out a hand for Theo to shake, he took it. Squeezed hard. He wanted this guy to think he was a hulking meathead, not the thinker living with Thea had forced him to become. Having a genius with mind-powers for a sister made pulling pranks on her pretty difficult, after all. If this dude thought Theo was just a muscle-bound moron, it would make it easier to slip information out of him.

But it was bizarre how icy the guy's hand was. Almost like it was made out of metal. But it wasn't. Couldn’t have been. It gave like flesh. And yet…

"Mr. Valerian, good to see you," the guy said. His black hair was slicked back, curling up a little where it brushed the collar of his suit-jacket. His sallow skin made him look a little less impressive and a lot creepier. Theo knew he wasn’t imagining the thinnest of crimson rings around the man's dark blue eyes, which made them look faintly purple. "My employers were happy to hear back from you, of course. Have you changed your mind about helping us procure the information we talked about?"

"Yeah, about that," Theo said. He shifted his jaw back and forth and furrowed his brows like he was thinking hard. "What exactly do you want with my sister's journals, anyway? All she talks about is some guy she met while she was on vacation wherever."

The businessman—he'd never given Theo his name, which didn’t spooky at all, oh no—offered a grim-reaper sort of smile. "Does she ever mention his name? Or give an initial? Anything? We're very interested in this man she met. He's a dangerous mutant that my employers are interested in helping the government to apprehend."

A tiny raindrop splatted Theo on the forehead. He forced himself not to shiver. The guy was lying; he didn’t need empathy to figure that out. But all he said was, "She calls him 'L.' What kind of Nancy-boy name starts with L, anyway?" Stupid question, of course. There were plenty of masculine names beginning with every letter of the alphabet. But dumb questions like that helped push the image that a) Theo was an idiot and b) he didn’t really care much for his sister's choices.

That grim-reaper smile flashed like cold starlight on a knife blade. "That confirms our findings, then, as to the identity of the man who impregnated Ms. Valerian. We were fairly certain, but we wanted to be sure before we tried to contact her."

"Wait," Theo said, forcing down a sudden sizzle of panic. It wasn’t exactly a secret that Thea had had a kid, but why were these guys looking into it? He kept up his dumb-jock persona as he asked, "You know the douche bag who knocked up my sister? 'Cause me and that dipstick need to have a conversation. Family honor and all that crap."

Mr. McCreepy shook his head almost indulgently. "Don’t concern yourself with that man. He's too dangerous for someone, even a mutant like you, to tangle with. Illusions won't help you in a fight against him. He's not a threat at the moment, but we have reason to believe he might become one in the near future. That's one of the reasons my employer wants to speak with your sister, Mr. Valerian. It is imperative that we speak to her."

Theo scoffed, feigning exasperation, but cold sweat trickled down the back of his neck. "She's out of town or something. Meeting some guy. She didn't tell me where. Kept whining about how she needed a break from living under our mom's thumb and she couldn’t stand it anymore and blah-blah, whine-whine. Wouldn’t shut up."

A piece of cream-colored cardstock shot out of the guy's sleeve and appeared between his bony fingers with the speed of a butterfly knife stabbing an innocent bystander. Theo's entire body flinched, waiting for a knife between the ribs. The cold, deadly smile widened. "If you get in touch with her," the guy added, "call me at this number." Theo scanned the words slashed in black ink across the card.

Mr. Eric Williams

Oscorp
Manhattan, NY
555-1962

"Remember, Mr. Valerian," Williams—this guy had to be Williams—said with that same death-like smile. "It's very important that we get in touch with your sister before things…go too far. Thank you for talking to us. Mr. Osborne and Dr. Werner are very pleased with your cooperation. We'll be seeing you."

Even though every instinct screamed at him not to turn his back on Williams, Theo got back in his truck and started the engine. The black Mercedes pulled out of the beach parking lot. Theo let out a breath.

Williams…he knew that name, didn't he? Because of Cleo, his little sister with her love of all things tech. There was a famous technology company attached to Stark Industries with that name in it. Williams Innovations. But that was run by Mr. Simon Williams. Cleo had done a report on him a month ago for school. But she'd said that the CEO's brother worked for Norman Osborne. Every mutant who'd ever attended Xavier's Institute for Gifted Youngsters knew that Norman Osborne was a bad guy.

But Werner…who was this Dr. Werner?

Thea, he thought, wishing his twin was still on Earth. I think you might be in some real trouble this time. Then again, he added, putting the truck into reverse and pulling out of his parking space, maybe we all are. I'm just glad Sophie's got you, Loki, and the Avengers looking out for her. Because if these guys want you, they probably want her, too.

.

That final night in Asgard, after a farewell feast, the royal family themselves—along with Lady Sif and the Warriors Three—escorted Coulson and the Midgardian Avengers to the gleaming golden dome of the Bifröst Gatehouse. While Banner, the Man of Iron, and the young captain said their farewells to the Asgardian crown prince, Thea went to stand with Coulson. Thor kept an eye on Thea while he laughed and jested with the Avengers; her face seemed drawn, her eyes shadowed as she put her arms around her adoptive father.

"Is she gonna be okay?" Tony murmured, eyeing Thea and the SHIELD agent. Sophie lay in Loki's arms, her head resting on his shoulder, looking as unhappy as her mother. It made sense she wouldn’t want to say goodbye to her grandfather; she'd live in her grandparents' home nearly her entire life. But why did Thea look so pensive?

"I am not sure," Thor replied softly. "But Loki and I will look after her. My mother and Bellalyse will, as well."

"What about the midget?"

"We will look after her, as well," Thor said. "Thank you for your aid in finding my sister, Anthony Stark." He looked to Bruce and Stephen. "Bruce Banner. Stephen Rogers. You have my eternal gratitude—"

"And mine," a soft voice broke into the conversation. The four men turned to see Loki, his daughter actually asleep now, standing near them. His shadowed, verdant eyes seemed to gleam. Loki was still thin, Thor thought. His eyes were still a bit sunken, the bones of his face protruded a little too far, and his skin lacked healthy color. But the half-mad agony that had been in his eyes until two days ago was gone now. Replacing it was contentment, peace. "Tell Nicholas Fury that if the Avengers ever require my aid, they have it."

To Thor's surprise, Tony held out a hand to Loki. Loki stared at it for a moment as if he didn’t quite know what it was for. Then he shifted a slumbering Sophie to free one of his arms, reached out, and grasped the Man of Iron's hand firmly in his. Tony shook it. His normally cocky expression had sobered. His eyes smoldered. "I never lost the woman I love. I hope I never do. But I thought I did, once. And I had to watch while my enemies hurt her to get to me. I don't know what I would've done to get her back, to protect her. Fury's not sure he can trust you, and maybe we can't. But I'm willing to give it a shot, because I get it."

Loki nodded. "Yes. I can see you do. Thank you, Man of Iron."

"Yeah," Thea said, approaching and laying her head against Loki's shoulder opposite Sophie. "Thank you. All of you."

Tony smiled and shrugged. Bruce offered his typical, shy smile. Stephen offered his own shrug. "It's what we do, ma'am. Thor's one of us, and now Loki is, too. We look after our own." He held out a hand for Loki to shake. "We'll see you around."

Bruce held something out to the fostered prince. "If we need you, these cards are how we'll contact you. Thor, here's one for you, too." He held out two small things, perhaps four inches long and two inches wide. One had Loki's image somehow magically portrayed in the corner, though it was an image of him from just before the Chitauri invasion. The other had another such picture of Thor in the corner. Written in metallic letters across each was the word Avengers. A series of small, black, glass dots ran along the bottom of both "cards." A cluster of tiny, shallow holes marred the corners opposite each picture. Loki and Thor took them, staring at them. "If you ever hear it say 'Avengers, assemble,' it means you're needed."

Thea's slim, dark brow quirked upward. A smirk curved her lips. "'Avengers, assemble?' Seriously?"

"It was Fury's idea," Tony grumbled, shooting his hands up and holding them palm-out as if to wash his hands of the whole affair. "Don't look at me. It wasn’t my idea. I've got more style—and more shame."

Thea laughed. "Well, where's mine? What if I wanna be an Avenger?"

A matching smirk tugged at Loki's thin lips as he gave his wife a fond look. "You want to be an Avenger? That wouldn’t be quite fair to the villains, now would it, älskling? You'd have them on their knees, weeping for their mothers, after ten minutes. Besides, wouldn’t you rather stay in Asgard and wear pretty dresses and—"

"Keep talking, Green Eyes," Thea said. Some of the shadows had faded from her gaze by now. "See who doesn’t last ten minutes. I will kick villain butt. I took out some Chitauri while I was pretending to be Shamoo, thanks to the sweetie-pie you're holding. I can be an Avenger. I am the best Avenger. Hell hath no fury and stuff. As for you guys," she pointed at the three Midgardians, "tell Nick I want one of those things, and I want in on the Avengers Initiative. I'll expect my card when we come back to Midgard in a couple weeks."

Tony grinned, mischief glinting wickedly in his eyes. "Do you want me to record that conversation on my phone for you?"

Thea actually squealed. Odin, Frigga, Sif and the Three all stared at her as she clapped her hands together and grinned. "Oh, yes! Yes, yes, yes! Please record it. Please!" She turned that brilliant smile on her husband. "It will be high-larious. You will laugh. A lot." Then she sobered a little, smiling at the three Avengers. "But seriously, all of you—thank you so much for all you've done. And for being so kind to my baby."

The three smiled, shifting between embarrassment due to her thanks and fondness for the sleeping toddler, and said their final goodbyes. They went to stand beside Heimdall, who drew his massive golden sword from its sheath.

Coulson moved to join them, but stopped when Thea grabbed his hand. He turned and wrapped his arms around her slender body, holding her close. Thor saw him murmur something, but he couldn’t hear what it was. Thea sniffled, nodded. Kissed Coulson's cheek. Thor saw that his mother watched the new Asgardian princess with compassion in her mead-dark eyes as Thea bid her father farewell. Then Coulson went to the Avengers.

Heimdall plunged his ensorcelled blade into the magical "key" that controlled the Bifröst. The Rainbow Bridge reached with tendrils of colorful seiðr for the four Midgardians, grabbing them in its enchanted grip, and sending them racing along the Bifröst toward Midgard.

Loki's elbow brushed Thor's upper arm, a touch too odd from someone who held himself so carefully for it to have been anything but deliberate. The golden-haired prince glanced surreptitiously at his twin brother from the corner of his eye. Loki shifted the limp form of his daughter in his arms.

"Thor," he murmured so low that only the prince could hear him. Beyond the pair of them, the royal family and their friends talked, not quite ready to leave the beautiful view of the galaxy through the Bifröst observatory's windows. "Thor, will you take my little one and put her to bed? Tramp will follow you." As if to illustrate his words, the mixed-blood hound approached Thor with wagging tail and dog-grin apparent on his dust-gray face. Tired, jade eyes caught Thor's gaze. "Thea needs to be alone for a time," Loki added.

"You'll let her wander Asgard alone?" Thor replied softly.

Loki made a low sound of derision. "Do not be foolish, Brother. 'Alone' means no one but me at her side. It is possible for the two of us to…to be alone, within ourselves, when we are together. She has always known how to retreat just enough from me. I have learned to do the same." Loki sighed. "Phil's return to Midgard has hurt her heart. She will miss her father."

"As you missed ours?" He ventured, wondering. Loki had seemed to forgive Odin after Thea had been returned to him. Loki had made a point to call Odin "father" at dinner that first night, and Odin had made a point to return the sentiment by calling Loki "son." Yet there was a reserve between the king and his foster son that Thor didn’t understand. It was more on Loki's part than anything. Perhaps it was just Loki readjusting to life at court, now that he was no longer a prisoner and no longer considered disgraced for his actions on Midgard and in Asgard before the shattering of the Bifröst. Perhaps it was that there was that odd coolness in Thea's eyes when she was in the king's presence. Thor couldn’t be sure.

His brother cast him a searching look. "Why do you ask such things?"

"All is not well with you and our father…is it?" When Loki said nothing, Thor had to bite back a growl. He hastily slipped the card Banner had given him into the leather pouch on his belt and held out his arms for Sophie. As Loki carefully transferred the sleeping child into his hold, Thor added, "I thought you two had forgiven each other."

Loki cupped the back of his daughter's head as Thor settled her in his arms. His touch was gentle, protective. He stared at Sophie for a long moment before finally meeting his brother's eyes again. "If the All-Father ever decides to try and take my daughter away, or my son once he is born, it will be a foolish course for him to take. Thea and I will let no one take our children, Thor. I know our father cares for me. Perhaps his love is less than that which he bears for his natural sons, but that fact hurts far less than it once did. I do not doubt his love for his foster son. But I know if ever a time comes when his needs outweigh his love, if an enemy powerful enough or wicked enough finally arises that breaks his mettle or his restraint, then I will be the first to fall of all Odin's sons. And you, his favorite, will be the last…but fall, we all surely will."

Thor frowned, baffled. Brows furrowing, a cold something twisting in his chest to coil around his heart, the prince shook his head. "Loki…what are you talking about?"

"In some ways, Brother, I am more Odin's son than you are," Loki murmured, gaze turning haunted and bleak. Thor's heart knifed sideways in his chest. This was a look he hadn’t seen since Thea's return two days ago. Why had it come back? What was his brother thinking of? Dark brows snarling together, eyes still resting lovingly on Sophie, Loki added, "What I did for my älsklingar…Odin would do that for our mother. He would sacrifice all of Asgard for her. I have sensed it; so has my Althea. Such a depth of love is a great power, for good or ill."

"I don't understand," Thor replied softly. "What ill?"

But Loki shook his head, expression tightening. "I do not know. Something looms just beyond the horizon. I have sensed this, as well. It will come…and when it comes, we will lose our father, and I will fall. I have not told Thea or our mother. I have told no one. But something will come. Not now. Not even in the next year. But near or just after the time when my son takes his first steps, our father will betray us all. And so I cannot trust him, even though I love and forgive him."

Frost crept through Thor's veins, wrapping icy fingers around his heart. The last time Loki had felt Asgard was in danger from a member of the royal family, he had set off down a path that had led to heartbreak and condemnation for him, as well as exile and grief for Thor. It had taken nearly three years for those heart-wounds to heal. If Loki did something to stop whatever he thought Odin would do, there would be no forgiveness this time. Odin was the king. Beyond that, Odin was their father. If Loki tried to manipulate the king or events surrounding him as he'd attempted with Thor back then…

"Think of your daughter, Brother," Thor whispered urgently. A quick scan of the observatory showed him that his family and friends were slowly moving toward the exit. Thea spoke quietly to Heimdall, but the Gatekeeper's golden gaze rested on the two princes. Thor tightened his grip on little Sophie. "Think of my niece. Think of…of your son." Loki hadn’t revealed that Thea carried a son this morning. How did Loki know? But that didn’t matter. What mattered was whatever Loki was planning. "Will you condemn your children to grow up without a father?"

A sad smile flitted across Loki's face. He shook his head. "No. When I tried to stop you from becoming king, I did it for Asgard. To protect my home. But Asgard is not my home anymore." Thor jolted, hurt racing like bitter lightning through his body. Loki continued in a voice as brutal as it was soft, "Thea is my home now. Sophie is my home. And my son, as yet unborn. So I will not risk my home, my family—not even for my father. Before Odin can betray us, I will take them somewhere far away. Perhaps Xavier's school on Midgard. But you asked a question with your cautious words and your silence, and so I have answered it. I love and forgive, but cannot trust him. Not anymore." The hand caressing Sophie's hair dropped away. "Thank you for taking her. Goodnight, my brother."

With those words, Loki strode to Thea and offered his arm. She gazed up at him. He murmured something, and her lost smile returned. Slipping her arm through his, she leaned against him, turning her face into the solid strength of his presence as if to draw him into herself. Some of the tension Loki always carried began to loosen and slip away. He brushed a kiss against Thea's temple.

Worry weighing down his heart like heavy stones, Thor cradled Sophie and went to join his family. Odin would never betray Asgard. He would never betray his sons. Thor would always trust his father. Loki was jumping at shadows. His still-mending sanity was playing tricks on him.

But Loki had always been able to sense things. Danger. He'd always had a bit of a sixth sense for it. What if…what if Loki was right? Or could the Chitauri still be manipulating him? They'd never been able to figure out how the wretched monsters were doing it, so they hadn’t been able to stop it. Thea's presence helped stem the tide of torturous thoughts they slipped into the pseudo-Æsir's mind, but what if the Chitauri had changed their tactics to compensate? These thoughts swirled through Thor's brain as the royal family and their friends made their way through the city.

As they passed through the palace gates, Loki and Thea slipped away. Thor's heart beat hard in his breast as his brother and his brother's wife disappeared within the forested grounds of the palace. Careful not to wake an exhausted Sophie, the crown prince made him way into the palace to put her to bed.

.

"Everything will be okay this time," Thea whispered. She and Loki strolled beneath the trees of the Iðunn's orchard. Moonlight illuminated the Golden Apples hanging overhead. Thea's grip on Loki's hand tightened. "Don't worry. This time there's no Chitauri, no evil aliens, no one trying to hurt us. It's just you and me and our families. We'll be okay."

Loki drew a breath that shuddered when he released it. "If anything were to happen to you or Sophie…or our son…"

"Nothing will," Thea insisted.

He shook his head. "But I…I'm not yet wholly sane, Thea. Sometimes I see things…hear things…and the nightmares, I…what if I hurt you? Or the baby? I almost did once before, when you carried Sophie. I love you, I love both of you, and yet I nearly harmed—"

Thea hugged him, wrapping her arms around him as tight as she could manage. Pressing her face into his chest, waiting for the moment he returned her embrace, she replied, "But you didn’t actually hurt me." Loki's arms crept around her. "You stopped. Even with what those jerks were doing to your mind, you stopped before you hurt me. You'd never hurt me or Sophie or…or Thor."

The strange, tender way she spoke the name distracted him a little. Arching a bemused eyebrow, he asked, "What has Thor to do with this?"

She made a face. "I guess I should tack on 'little' at the beginning so we can tell the difference between our son and your brother."

It took him a moment to realize what she meant. Laying a gentle hand against her belly, feeling the faintest hum of new life with his seiðr, Loki murmured, "Thor." He rolled the name around in his mind, on his tongue, getting a feel for it. "Little Thor. Little thunderer." He smiled. The name fit perfectly, he decided. Loki dropped his forehead against hers. "Our little Thor. No, you're right. I would never hurt you, or Sophie or little Thor. Or big Thor, either," he added with a chuckle. Thea smiled, too. "I would cut my own throat before harming any of you." He kissed her softly, desperately. "I'll protect all of you, Thea."

"I know," she whispered. "Everything will be okay."

Loki prayed it was so…but somehow, he couldn’t quite bring himself to believe it.

Chapter One - Let Go of the Truth…This Is Just a Game

Chapter One
Let Go of the Truth…This Is Just a Game

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Thor studied his wan reflection in the looking glass of his bedchamber, wondering what he was doing. Was he really going to go back to see Loki　again? He'd been to visit his younger brother in the dungeons every day for the last two fortnights—ever since Loki's startling accusation that blood of　someone, perhaps those Midgardians killed during the Chitauri invasion, was on Thor's hands as well as his adopted brother's—but Loki had said not a word since then. Thor had by turns pleaded, threatened, and cajoled, all to no avail. His brother would say nothing,　do　nothing, while Thor was present in the dungeon corridor outside his cell. The moment Loki heard Thor coming, he would stop whatever he was doing and sit, silent and immobile, in a chair staring into the fire.

With a sigh, the son of Odin's blood leaned back on the bench where he sat until his head touched the cold stone wall. He closed his eyes wearily. Only the distant roar of the sea and the chirp of crickets singing farewell to the day broke the silence of his bedroom. It gave Thor the quiet he needed to think. What could he do this evening that he hadn't done over the last four weeks? What could coax Loki into explaining himself?

A soft knock at his door pulled Thor from his musings. Smoothing a hand over his hair, he called, "Enter." At his entreaty, Odin's youngest son stepped into the room. Immediately upon seeing Balder, some of Thor's tension eased.

"Good evening, Brother," Balder said softly, his deep voice rumbling through the room.

It still surprised Thor how his littlest brother had grown up. He stilled remembered when it had been little Balder running on his short child's legs in a hopeless effort to chase down Thor, Loki, Víðarr, and Tyr in an effort to join in on the revelries of the older princes. Now Balder was a man—tall, broad-shouldered, having already been blooded in battle, with the strength and bearing of one of Asgardian's warrior princes. He hadn't come of age yet, but no one doubted his courage or his strength.

"Good evening."

"Are you going to see Loki today?" Balder asked when Thor said nothing more. "Has he spoken again?" Thor shook his head, and Balder sighed. "Mother is certain you can do something with him where the rest of us have failed. What do you think?"

A small pain was beginning to throb behind the older Asgardian's left eye. Pressing his fingers to his forehead, Thor replied, "I know not what can be done with him, if anything. I don't even know if his words to me before have any bearing on his treachery, or if he seeks to play with my mind. I simply do not know. If　Mother　can get nothing from him…" Thor shrugged almost helplessly. "I don't know."

Balder nodded, rubbing his chin. His glacier-blue eyes darkened with worry. "Well, I know one thing—do　not　let Tyr near him again, or there may be bloodshed."

Thor arched an eyebrow. "He's in prison. And Tyr is not so foolish as to let Loki goad him into breaking into his cell in order to—"

"Loki is not the one goading Tyr," Balder interrupted. Thor's brow furrowed. "Tyr is attempting to get information from our brother by taunting him into a fit of temper. He will catch Loki drawing…whatever it is he is constantly drawing, and demand to know what it is. He will deliberately provoke him, yet Loki has yet to respond overtly. I sense trouble brewing if Tyr is allowed to continue his jibes."

"Have you spoken to Father about this?"

The younger prince nodded. "You know how he is. He does not wish to hear anything about Loki. His guilt, you know…and his disappointment. For now, I think Father will let Mother deal with the problem of our wayward brother. And you know Tyr never listens to Mother."

The sigh that came from Thor then seemed to hold all the weight he felt down to his very bones. Things had been so simple that long ago day when Odin had been ready to hand the throne of Asgard to his eldest son—the son who, Thor could admit now, hadn't been ready for kingship then. When had the world become so tangled? Was it merely Loki's discovery of his true parentage? Or was it more?

Perhaps today would be the day his brother gave him some answers. Trying to hold onto that slim, flickering hope, Thor rose to his feet, bade his youngest brother goodbye, and went to visit Loki.

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Loki was drawing again. Thor had made sure to keep as silent as possible when drawing night his brother's cell this time, and Loki was distracted enough by his task that he didn't seem to notice Thor's stealthy approach through the shadows of the corridor. The prince took a moment to observe Loki from the safety of those shadows.

Every move his brother made was fraught with an electric, frenetic energy. His emerald eyes burned as they darted over the paper. His face was nearly bloodless, and a bright crimson drop stood out against Loki's mouth again. The hand holding the charcoal sketching stick practically flew across the page as if on demonic wings. Loki's breath came in half-choked little gasps.

Suddenly, as before, he stopped. He stared at the drawing as if searching for something, some miniscule detail on which hung the very fate of the cosmos. Wrinkles formed between his thin, dark brows as they knitted together. The pale lips moved soundlessly. It took Thor a long moment to realize his brother was mouthing the word "no" over and over again; that and another word he couldn't quite make out from the shape of Loki's mouth.

A look of helpless confusion flitted across his brother's wan face, followed swiftly by anger edged with what might have been despair. Loki dropped his face into the cup of one hand. He crushed the charcoal stick in his other; it broke in half with a muffled　snap. The pieces clattered to the table top and rolled slowly over the smooth surface before slipping off and falling to the floor. Loki's empty fingers convulsed into a fist so tight his hand visibly shook. He pressed it hard against the table until Thor heard the wood creak.

At last Loki lifted his head to stare once more with broken eyes at the drawing. "Memory fades so swiftly," Loki breathed. "Why can I not remember something so simple? Something so vital? Surtur's blade…why　can I not　remember?"

He clamped his lips together. Squeezed his eyes shut. His face contorted as if in pain. With a muffled, wordless cry he snatched up the picture and crumpled it into a ball. He surged to his feet—unsteadily, Thor noticed. Stalking to the sullen fire, Loki made as if to cast the drawing into the flames…but then he hesitated. With trembling fingers he unfolded the crumpled drawing; gazed down at it with a blank face, though his eyes were alive, alight with something like desperation.

Loki took a deep breath, then let it out slowly, with a shudder. He shook his head. "No," Loki said softly. "No. It isn't right. It will not…serve." With those opaque words, the other prince balled the paper up again, but he moved as if it were the hardest thing he had ever done. And instead of hurling the paper into the flames, he held out his hand, palm up, and let the drawing slip from his grasp to land in the fire.

While the paper crackled and burned, Loki leaned his forearm against the fireplace mantel. Swallowed audibly. Then he leaned his forehead against his arm. His shoulders slumped. He raised a fist and thumped it once against the marble mantel.

Thor could bear it no longer. As before, the prince stepped into the light. "Loki."

His brother didn't turn around, which Thor had half-expected, half-dreaded. He hadn't expected Loki to mutter, "Why have you come back here, Thor? What do you want of me?"

"Are you…all right?" He couldn't forget the haunted—and haunting—look on his little brother's face.

But to his incredulous irritation, Loki turned to him with that smirk twisting his features. He laughed openly at Thor. "Am I all right? Brother, I'm in prison. I mean no offense, of course, but that's a stupid question."

Fury washed through the prince. "Forgive my foolishness. Of course civilities are wasted on common criminals."

That smirk carved deeper across Loki's face. The once-anguished eyes twinkled with mocking amusement. Had Thor only imagined the sorrow in Loki's face before he'd burned the drawing? Surely not…but there was no trace of any deep emotion in the other prince now as he chuckled and replied, "Your wit hasn't improved while I've been imprisoned, Brother. Is that why you've come today? To attempt to sharpen that rapier wit?"

In that moment Thor came to a decision. He'd avoided confronting Loki flat out about the drawings themselves, instead asking about the things he'd said the last time they'd spoken. He hadn't wished to see that look of vicious pain on his little brother's face again. But he would not stand here and be mocked for his trouble, either. If Loki wished to contest with him, Thor would strike at his heart.

"Were you not satisfied with this latest drawing, little brother?" Thor asked casually, striding toward the ensorcelled glass that separated him from his foster brother. "Did it not please you?"

The effect on Loki was immediate: what little color that had come back into his face while verbally sparring with Thor drained away, his eyes snapped wide, tension gripped his entire body, and his lips parted slightly as if he'd been stunned. Then he seemed to recover himself. Pressing his lips together, he glared at Thor. His gaze was like a jade knife.

"That is none of your concern."

"Oh?" Thor shrugged. "It was a simple question, Loki." When his little brother said nothing, Thor narrowed his eyes. "I'll get answers out of you eventually, little brother. You cannot put me off forever."

Loki scoffed. "Oh, can't I? Don't you have better things to do? Primping in front of the mirror for your little mortal, for example? I hear the Bifröst will be fully repaired in but a year's time. Surely you want to look your best for her. Perhaps you should go and polish those feathers you call a helmet."

"Leave Jane out of this," Thor snapped. "You berate me for involving others in a conflict between us, then attempt to use her against me—"

"Hypocrite," Loki snarled softly. "So you're allowed to attempt to use my weaknesses against me, eh, Brother? But when I hit back with the same tactic, you cry foul?"

Through gritted teeth, the golden-haired prince said, "There is a vast difference between asking you a difficult question and threatening the woman I love. You will not harm Jane, Loki. So much as attempt it, and brother or no, I　will　kill you. Do you understand?"

Eyes like sunlight through green glass flickered. "A difference? No, there really isn't. Not in the end," Loki murmured, and once again Thor had the impression of trying to catch something precious but elusive in his grasp. Then his brother shook off whatever melancholy had softened his demeanor and smirked at Thor. "Besides, I never threatened her. I once said that I　might　pay her a visit, but that was merely to goad you into doing what I wanted. Even you should have been able to see that, despite your thick skull. And I wasn't threatening her just now, either. Merely proving a point. I can put you off for eternity if need be. You may as well give up whatever futile quest you've come here on and leave me in relative peace."

"It was a simple question, Loki. Were you displeased with the drawing? Forgetting a detail, perhaps?" As Thor spoke, Loki's lips pressed tighter and tighter together. The cocky smirk had vanished like a ghost. "Something you can't remember interfering?"

Voice hoarse and strained, the pseudo-Asgardian hissed, "You were　listening. Spying on me!"

Thor's shrug was completely unapologetic. "My only recourse," he said, "when you refuse to tell me what I wish to know."

Loki's face went blank. In a carefully neutral tone, the disguised Frost Giant said, "Very well. I was not satisfied with the drawing. It is difficult to draw something so detailed from memory. Mistakes are often made. Satisfied?" The last word was spat as if it were poison.

"What were you drawing?"

Loki's expression hardened. "Getting a bit greedy, aren't we?" Thor merely shrugged…and waited. He kept his eyes trained on Loki as his brother glared at him with that same icy hatred Thor had seen before, the loathing that frosted Thor's blood and squeezed his heart like King Laufey's own bitter-cold fist. Finally Loki said, "There is nothing in all the Nine Realms that you could offer that would compel me to tell you."

After a carefully measured pause, Thor asked, "What about your freedom?"

His brother laughed, but there was no humor in the sound. Only bitterness like wormwood. "My freedom is not in your power to give. Nor," he added sharply, "is it within the purview of the All-Father. Not my true freedom. No one can give me that." His voice dropped low, almost musing. "The fetters that bind me are stronger than any that Odin could devise."

"Why do you always throw your drawings into the fire?" Thor asked. He wanted to demand Loki explain himself, explain his words of fetters and guilt and innocent blood. Explain why nothing was worth his giving Thor the information he wanted. Instead he focused on the subject that seemed to draw Loki out of himself the most. "Why not keep them? Surely you do not despise your failures so much that they must be destroyed. I remember your skill with pencil and brush from when we were young. Even with small mistakes, the work would be well-done."

A sneer twisted Loki's face. "Because I know you want to see them, so I make sure you cannot. I delight in vexing you, Brother."

Thor scoffed. "You're acting like a child."

"Do　not　speak to　me　of children!" Loki roared suddenly. The fury blazing like viridian fire in his brother's gaze, the hatred searing in his voice, nearly made Thor step back. Taking a shaking step toward Thor, Loki shouted, "How　dare　you? How dare you?"

"If you don't want me to call you a child," his older brother replied scathingly, using acid to mask his sudden unease, "don't act like one." Why, Thor wondered, had the juvenile insult enraged Loki so much? Here was another of those mercurial shifts in temper Loki had begun to display. What about the comment had enraged him this time? Was it simply that he was so proud, looked down on his elder foster brother so much, that he took grave insult if Thor said anything negative about him? It made no sense…

And Loki didn't reply to Thor's latest retort, either; only spun on his heel in a whirl of loose black material to glare at the fire as it slowly began to die. Silence stretched taut and heavy between the brothers. Finally Thor sighed. "Brother…I do not wish to fight with you. Why must you make this a battle?"

It took a few moments for Loki to respond. When he did, Thor was surprised by his words. "Do you know what it is to fight every moment of every day of your life? To see battles looming when others tell you there's nothing there, that you are merely imagining things? And then you have to fight them, knowing that nothing you do will ever end that conflict?" Loki shook his head, never taking his eyes from the flames. "When you live on a battlefield, you do not willingly remove even a single piece of your armor."

Thor took another step toward the enchanted glass barrier. He could feel the magic of it as soft prickles along his skin that made the golden hairs on his arms stand up, as a dull ache in his teeth. Ignoring it, he took yet another step. He took a breath.

"I have never harmed you, Loki, save in these recent battles. Why do you think I seek to hurt you?"

"You've already dealt the fatal blow, Thor. Ever since you defeated me back on Midgard, I have been bleeding to death from it. I suppose it's too much trouble to mourn my death a second time," Loki added bitterly. "You've already held my funeral once. Why waste time with a second? What do you think Odin and Frigga will do when I die of this wound, hmmm? Throw my corpse to the pigs?"

Bile rose in Thor's throat; he swallowed it back. In a carefully neutral voice, he said, "If you died, Brother, our mother and father would surely mourn, as they did before. Mother was inconsolable after you fell from the Bifröst. She wept for days. And if you were wounded, the healers would tend you faithfully…if you allowed it."

Loki's laugh was almost poisonous as it rattled in his chest. "Tend me? This is not a wound that can be tended, Brother. You have carved out my heart the way the deaths on my conscience have carved into my bones. As a heartless monster I now stand before the crown prince of Asgard, vainly trying to remember what it was to possess a heart capable of breaking. You have killed me as surely as I killed Laufey. Yet I forgive you for　that."

Noting his younger brother's emphasis, Thor asked, "If you forgive any injury I've done you, then what is it you despise me for, Loki? Whatever wrong I have done you, I am sorry. But it was not wrong of me to stop you from conquering Midgard."

"Well, whatever helps you sleep at night,　Brother," Loki snarled. "Are you blind? You come here and ask your questions, and in the same breath deny the answers. Why should I tell you anything? It will not cleanse your conscience, or mine."

"You cannot blame me for the deaths of the Midgardians who were killed in the invasion," Thor snapped, losing patience. "Nor can you blame me for the guilt you supposedly feel over their blood."

His brother turned to sneer over his shoulder. "Right on the first point, but not the second. I don't blame you for their deaths…but　you　are the reason their deaths were in vain. If you and your pathetic band of 'heroes' hadn't attempted to thwart me—"

"You blame me because the invasion failed?" Thor demanded, incredulously.

"Yes."

"And because it failed, those who died, died in vain?"

"Yes," Loki hissed.

"And your guilt stems from that and that alone?" Thor asked. When Loki hesitated, Thor's heart gave an odd lurch in his chest. A knot of confusion, anger, and concern twisted sharply in the pit of his belly. Thor shook his head in bewilderment. "Loki…what is it, exactly, that you condemn me for?"

Jade fire smoldered in his brother's eyes. "Their　deaths."

Thor remembered that Loki always chose his words with care, even when in a fury.　Their　deaths. He had already said he didn't blame Thor for the deaths of the Midgardians, just the futility of them. So…"Who, Loki?" Thor asked softly. "Whose deaths?"

As if emerging from a dream, Loki blinked. Shook his head. "No. No, you'll not pull that confession from my lips. You don't deserve to hear their names."

Stunned, Thor gazed at his brother with wide eyes. Didn't deserve…? Someone Loki actually　cared　for? For a moment, Thor wondered if Loki meant a woman. But no, he'd said　their　names. But then, who could he mean? Thor shook his head. "How can I answer your accusation if you do not tell me their names?"

"Their names would mean nothing to you. Do not seek to try and refute my claim, Thor, for I know well where the blame for their deaths lies. Yes, with me, and I will carry that guilt for the rest of eternity, even unto death. It lies with that monster, Thanos, and his lieutenant. But most of all, it lies with　you, Thor Odinson, and damn your soul to the bowels of Nifelheim!" Ashen, eyes glistening like wet blue-green jewels with what might have been the gloss of savagely enraged tears, Loki cried, "If not for you, they would yet be alive!　Damn you!"

Then it seemed as if all the life drained from Loki's body. He fell to his knees on the floor, then sank down until only the wall kept him upright. He dropped his head against the cool stone. Closed his eyes. His breath came in great, heaving, shuddering gasps. His fingers knotted into fists so tight the knuckles burned white against the flesh. Thor watched Loki unclench his hands finger by finger; he ran his hands over his face and sighed.

At last Loki merely sat there, his hands clasped atop his head, elbows bracketing his face, eyes tightly closed. He did not move an inch. Did not make a sound. He only sat like that, and Thor could almost see the walls of ice that had so recently come down building up around him again.

Moved by instinct, Thor said softly, "Loki…I don't understand. Please, explain it to me."

Loki simply sighed. "Why should I bother? You won't listen."

"I will."

"You won't believe."

"I…" Thor hesitated, then pressed on. "I will try." When his brother said nothing, Thor added, "Loki, we used to trust each other. We used to protect each other. When did that change? It has not changed for me. You're my brother."

A small laugh. "I'm adopted, in case you've forgotten."

Thor scowled. "Do I look as if I give a damn?" To his surprise, Loki chuckled. "Loki, if I have earned my brother's enmity, I deserve to at least to know why. Tell me!"

Loki sighed again, then opened his eyes, which seemed oddly discolored by the light; almost blue. Dropping his arms to rest on his updrawn knees, he stared at the floor. His brow furrowed in thought. Was he considering Thor's offer? The Asgardian prince didn't wish to get his hopes up…but then Loki looked up at him. It felt as if someone had jabbed a needle of ice straight into Thor's heart. Slowly, Loki nodded.

"Yes…I suppose you deserve at least that. But it's late, Brother. So I will give you one reason, and you may come to collect the rest on the morrow." Loki closed his eyes again. "I suppose the guards have told you that I do not simply draw, but that I also write?"

Nonplussed by the abrupt change in topic, Thor nodded. "They did."

"Did they tell you　what　I was writing?"

"They claimed not to know."

A ghost of a smile curled Loki's mouth. "I would imagine so. I'm careful enough. But I shall tell you, since you wish to know what sins have condemned you. I write letters, Thor. Letters to the dead. And I burn them because I was told once that if one wished to send a message to someone who has passed, the best way is to burn it, and the wind in the chimney will take the pieces up into the heavens." Loki's voice was soft, musing, with a weight of sadness that seemed to drag at his brother like iron shackles. "I know not whether it actually works. I can only pray so."

Thor swallowed, afraid of breaking the spell that seemed to have fallen over his little brother, but at last he spoke softly. "I think, if the Creator is merciful, such tactics work well enough. But what has that to do with me?"

"Do you know who I'm writing to?"

"The dead," Thor replied, frowning. "You've said that."

Loki shook his head slowly. "Such a thick skull. It's a wonder you've lived this long. Which dead, Thor? All the dead? A handful? One in particular?" The other prince could only shake his head helplessly. A faint crease formed between Loki's brows. "I write to the ones whose deaths I lay at your feet. They are the ones I draw. But I said I would give you but one reason today, and so I shall. I will give you a name. And you can think on that name, turn it over in your mind, feel it settle around your heart as the guilt seeps into your soul."

There was a long silence. Thor could count his heartbeats, loud as war-drums in his ears. He watched as Loki's forehead wrinkled as if with some great strain. His eyes, closed and relaxed until now, squeezed tight. His fists were so tight, Thor's hands ached in sympathy. There would be bloody crescents in his little brother's palms later.

Finally Loki opened his eyes. To Thor's utter shock, his eyes were damp with tears. A single teardrop spilled from the corner of Loki's eye and roll down his pale cheek to drip off the end of his chin. He seemed paler than ever. Pale as death. His voice, husky with emotion, trembled.

"Her name was Thea. Now leave me in peace."