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Chapter Text

What meaning does time carry for the one who holds its weight?

The quiet question echoed through the void like a stray whisper. Though only one was there to listen. A lone god, perched upon a throne of gold and stone, who huffed as he replied,

What is the weight of time compared to the life they get to live?

And thus the void fell silent. For how could time possibly matter to those with eternal blood?

This was now his duty. His glorious purpose that he fulfilled, as a ruler of one in a kingdom of none. 

Here at the heart of the world tree reborn, its roots stretched and coiled across the stone floor for miles on end. The fundament, as dark as obsidian yet strangely iridescent, could barely be seen beneath the bizarre greenery, just like the old ruins and rubble that surrounded his throne. 

Loki, the god of stories, sat motionless amidst countless thin, wispy vines that swayed in the air like a kelp forest underwater. Many of them were tightly wound around his arms, his back, his legs, and steadily pulsed with energy like blood would in a heart. 

Perched upon his raven hair was a crown, formed from twisted leafless branches, but he barely felt its weight, for his senses had long since dulled.

Alas, such things mattered little in the grand scheme of things. He was a god. He was divine. He was the heart of Yggdrasil. And this was but a small price to pay compared to the actions of the former "ruler". 

In this place, best compared to a black hole, past, present and future all occurred at once and drew upon his energy to ensure their continued existence, leaving him as nothing more than a spectator of the events beyond this world. 

And so, Loki did the only thing he could do in this timeless realm, and let himself sink deeper and deeper into every branch he touched. 

He watched his friends live their lives in peace. Watched his alternate selves repeat mistakes or create new wonders. Watched himself as a child, an animal, a president, a godking, a mortal or a father of three. He watched them fight, cry, be betrayed, cast away or live a happy life, and watched as they all assumed the fate laid out before them.

The time he spent as an observer became longer and longer until he could barely tell apart dream from reality. Yet sometimes, in rare moments of clarity, when the threads did not pull at his consciousness and threatened to drown him again, he wondered why he lingered so long in the timelines of others. 

Was it regret? Homesickness? To remember what his family looked like? 

Loki dared not think about the answer, as it would only bring more pain and longing for something he could not have. 

Slowly blinking, he felt the fog of yet another timeline clear up and found himself back in the tree, surrounded by the same, slowly moving threads as always.

His hair had grown again, he noted, and the darkness on his arms had spread another inch. Yet such details were easily overshadowed by a faint tug at his heart, one that could barely be felt beneath the constant ebb and flow of energy that coursed through his body. 

Another timeline. Another branch of Yggdrasil. Another reminder that his friends were safe and sound. That was one of the only things he did not regret. And with this thought, he reached out once more, far, far towards the youngest branch and grazed it with his blackened fingers. 

Familiar static enveloped him as he let his consciousness sink into the timeline 'til nothing but silence remained. And from this silence emerged muffled sounds that became ever clearer with each passing second until he could discern them again. 

Birds sang their songs, the wind brushed against the curtains, and the distant lilt of old Norse reached his ears. 

Groggily, Loki opened his eyes and slowly sat up from the soft bed beneath him. 

The room was painfully familiar, as it had been his childhood bedroom once. Gold, silver and various shades of green made up the interior. With multiple shelves and bookcases rowed up on his wall, each one packed to the brim with various volumes about history, spells, strategic tactics and more. 

It was a bit ironic to see that his room was so orderly that it bordered on being bland. 

For this was not something one expected from a god of mischief. 

In Loki's eyes, however, it made perfect sense. 

He caused chaos for others, but that had never included his own private space. 

Still sluggish from sleep, the body stood and walked over to the mirror. 

Loki, the watcher, was accustomed to this routine, though he couldn't deny the subtle disappointment when his appearance was revealed. 

In the mirror, his younger self stared back at him, with the same short hair, round face and calm composure that he remembered. An image of the perfect son and prince he once wanted to be. 

A knock at his door snapped him out of his musings. 

"Your Highness, the ceremony will begin in a few hours. Do you need help getting ready?"

The muffled voice of a servant spoke. 

Even beyond the wood and gold, he could hear the slight resentment of the person who offered their help. Though this was nothing new to him. 

In light of someone as radiant and pompous as his "brother", who would spare a glance at his shadow? Moreover, if said shadow liked to play pranks and cause trouble all around. 

"No need. I'll be there soon."

His voice replied smoothly, and he listened to the sigh of relief as the footsteps retreated again. 

With methodical movements –ones he had repeated for lifetimes – he dressed himself in green, elegant robes and the golden decorative armour, as was expected from him by the court. The crown, however, was nowhere to be seen, so he replaced it with the next best thing he had to offer. A wreath woven from the silvery branches of an ashtree. 

His body exited the room and began to wander the golden halls once more, if only to observe a home he'd never set foot in himself again. 

He walked leisurely along the grand, glittering halls. Taking his sweet time as his robes swished behind him and passed by the paintings and statues made in honour of gods or past heroes whose names would continue to shine in history for ages to come. 

On his way down, quite a few servants hurried past him with empty trays; no doubt on their way to Andhrímnir, who prepared the feast for today, and returned with elated expressions and arms packed full with food and drink. 

Some of them shot him nervous glances as he passed by with his head held high. But he ignored them. He had better things to do than cause trouble for the stressed. 

At last, he left the shiny halls and stepped foot into Idun's garden, where spring reigned eternal and the smell of flowers permeated the air. 

Loki felt himself relax almost instantly. 

This garden held a sense of peace that he rarely felt since he donned the crown. 

His feet carried him deeper and deeper inside, until he reached a clearing in its centre where the most important relic of Asgard gently swayed in the wind. 

The golden apple tree. 

Whose fruits exuded a soft glow that could still be seen beneath the harsh midday sun. 

What puzzled him, however, was that the tree was alone, with its goddess nowhere to be seen.

To leave the source of their immortality unguarded, Idun must already be present at the great hall. 

And just as that thought crossed his mind, the bell chimed in the distance and told all who still lingered outside that the ceremony was about to begin. 

It seemed that this Loki shared his reluctance to take the normal way back and be the source of gossip of all that saw him, and promptly used his magic to teleport into the hall. 

Unaware that this usually simple spell, had left behind a few ash-dusted leaves in his place. 

Stepping forth from the shadow of a column, he strode across the gleaming floor, unnoticed by the masses, and smoothly settled a step beneath his mother just as Thor made his grand entrance and cheers thundered through the hall. 

"Loki, where have you been? It's unlike you to be late." Frigga murmured, with her eyes glued to her real son. A bitter feeling tugged at his heart as the unwanted memories of her death invaded his mind, though he refused to let them linger. 

"I'm sorry, mother, I've lingered in the garden for too long." His mouth said instead and gave her a shy smile, reserved for only his closest people. 

His thoughts, however, took on a different turn, as he came to a peculiar realisation. 

Usually, his head would be more muted. Influenced by the feelings and actions that this body took... though for some reason, this time around it all felt remarkably clearer. 

Was he somehow influencing this Loki in return? But that shouldn't be possible, he would not be capable of sensing anything at all. 

Though before he could delve any further, his mother spoke again with an audible smile in her voice.

"Hm, you did love it there. But please refrain from doing so during your brother's Coronation. It does shine a good light on you, and I'm sure Thor would've been disappointed had you not shown up."

Loki almost rolled his eyes. Sure, the ever pompous Thor. As if he ever noticed his presence while his ego was still overflowing like the mead in his cup. 

Just look at him. Prancing around, with his freshly forged hammer like it's a toy and not a divine weapon. Grinning and laughing at the crowd and sending his regards to his close warriors, yet not a single glance was spared for him. 

Well, Loki mused, no matter the timeline, Thor seemed to never change. 

Once he knelt before Odin's Throne, the Allfather rose from his seat and silenced the hall in an instant. 

Loki did not bother to listen to the speech. Nothing new would come from the man who stole him from his cradle. And then, as always, Odin would halt just before he could hand the throne to his son. 

The hall waited and waited, and slowly unease broke out. Even Loki, the sole person who knew what was to come. Got goosebumps from the subtle chill in the air. 

Abruptly, Odin stormed off with his staff in hand and commanded the guards to follow him. 

Thor and Loki did not hesitate and immediately followed him into the depths of the castle, where the weapons vault lies. 

The rarest and most dangerous artefacts were kept here, tightly sealed and secure, where no soul could ever touch them. 

Now, however, the vault was covered head to toe in ice and frost. Proof that Jotuns had died here, with blood like liquid ice and skin as cold as stone. And how true this was, as their dead bodies were trapped within the very same water, that their blood had frozen solid. 

The winter casket. The very core that brought upon Jotunheim the eternal Snowstorm still stood at its place at the end of the vault, while Andvaranaut, Gambanteinn, Dainsleif and Laevateinn were all left untouched. 

Odin ignored the charred and frozen corpses and approached the casket with the calm of a still lake. 

Running his hands over its surface, beneath which the storm raged on, he found it unharmed on all accounts. 

"The Jotuns must pay for what they've done!" 

Thor growled from the left. His eyes filled with fury, he stared at the Giant's remains. 

"They have paid with their lives," Odin stated. "The Destroyer did its work, the Casket is safe, and all is well."

And the familiar exchange began anew. 

Loki was tempted to lean back against a pillar and summon his meal from upstairs, as they had no popcorn here, but reminded himself to stay composed and quiet. Drama was best enjoyed unnoticed. 

"All is well? They broke into the weapons vault! If the Jotuns had stolen even one of these relics-"

Thor burst out like the lightning he embodied. 

Odin, however, did not budge in the slightest.

"I have a truce with Fárbauti, King of the Jotuns. He will see to quell any other rebellious blood once I inform him.

"But he just broke our truce! They know we are vulnerable! And who's to say Fárbauti will actually do as you say?" 

"What action would you take then?"

Odin turned slightly, pinning his son in place with his sole eye. 

"March into Jotunheim and teach them a lesson. Break their spirits so they'll never dare try to cross our borders again."

His father huffed. 

"You're thinking as a warrior, not as a king."

"But this was an act of war! Just look how far they've got!" Thor thundered, growing ever more erratic and blinded by his rage. 

"We will find a breach in our defences and seal it."

"As King of Asgard-"

He began, but Odin's voice was louder. 

"But You're Not King!"

The Allfather shouted, the sound reverberating within the vault. 

"You're not king. And you won't become one today. Postpone the ceremony, as it will not happen until we've found our weakness."

Back on the balcony of his room, Thor raged on and on, tearing apart food and furniture as if there was no difference between the two. 

Over and over he'd mutter under his breath. Curses and complaints spilling from him like poetry from a skáld. 

Until at last his burning anger simmered down and he slumped onto the steps, exhausted. 

From the shadow of the column, Loki emerged and settled beside him without a word. 

"Why are you here, brother? It's not wise to be around me right now." Thor grumbled, with a hoarse voice. 

"Why is it so strange to want to offer company? Your grand day has been thwarted, and by Jotuns no less." Loki replied with a loopsided grin, though that vanished quickly once he heard footsteps approach. 

The warrior three halted at the entrance once they spotted him beside his brother and remained there, watching. Judging. 

Loki's skin prickled. An urge to leave hit him suddenly. To pull back from the timeline and continue with another, yet he held himself back. He had yet to see what caused this one to form. 

Ignoring Thor's friends, he leaned closer and whispered, "If it's any consolation, I think you are right. If they found a way to penetrate Asgard's defences, who's to say they won't try again?"

"Exactly." Thor whispered back, some of his fury returning to his voice. 

"But there is nothing you can do without defying father." And just like always, as soon as those words left his mouth, a dangerous glint entered his brother's eyes. 

"No, no Thor, no! Don't even let this cross your mind." He pleaded, like a concerned brother would, but Thor did not listen. 

"It's the only way to ensure the safety of our borders." He said, clasping his discarded red cloak around his shoulders. 

"Thor, it's madness!"

And finally, those warriors decided to speak up. 

"What sort of madness?"

Volstagg asked and very unsubtly eyed Loki from the side. Loki scoffed. 

They were all the same. 

Volstagg, Sif, Fandral and Hogun. 

Each one mighty on the battlefield, but barren in the minds. 

"We're going to Jotunheim."

Thor said in a tone that made it clear, how he would not back down from this decision. 

"What?"

Fandral scoffed. "This isn't like a trip to Midgard where the mortals worship you as a god. This is Jotunheim!"

"My father fought his way to Jotunheim, defeated their armies and took their casket. We would be doing nothing more than common negotiations."

Saying that so flippantly as if he ever had to fear for someone's life. Loki schooled his expression, lest his amused annoyance would show. 

"It is forbidden!" 

Sif cried, another voice of common sense. 

But as always, it fell deaf to Thor's ears. 

"My friends", the young god began, "Have you forgotten our glorious battles? Our adventures? How we prooved everyone wrong against all odds? Compared to those feats, this will be nothing. We will be in and out with our answers and back here before you know it."

And against all odds, his friends agreed, on the condition that they would not fight there whatsoever.

Loki already regretted this body's choice, yet could do nothing but agree when faced by his over eager brother and the ever displeased warriors at his side. 

If he went with them it would serve his plan. If he did not, they would only get suspicious.

So, he tagged along, even when the unease in him lingered. And Loki, who had seen countless world lines in his years, knew without a doubt that something here was going very, very wrong. 

Chapter Text

Long had it been since he'd last ridden on horseback, and Loki, though he loathed to admit it, had missed this feeling. Even more so, however, he had missed his steed. A beautiful black mare that was faithful to him only and obeyed his every tug and turn. 

Skygge, or "Liten skygge" as he called her, he had chosen in his youth. Enamoured by the feisty, prideful foal that bit everyone that dared to come near it. And perhaps, animals tended to obtain certain quirks from the gods that owned them, as Skygge too loved to cause chaos whenever she was bored. Hence her unchallenged title as "nightmare of the stables". 

As they rode through the city, Loki used the chance to look around and admire his old home once more. The tall, shining architecture and the sound of countless victorious souls above them brought a strange sense of longing to his heart. 

To be homesick in your own home, what a peculiar feeling. 

A hum left his throat, yet he did not acknowledge the questioning looks sent his way and kept his focus on his surroundings. 

At the front of their entourage was Thor. 

Sitting in the saddle of his pure white stallion, whose golden mane glittered in the light of the starry sky.

The horse was strong, prideful and rebellious just like its owner. So, fittingly, Thor had named it Feiging. 

The thought alone brought a smile to Loki's lips, for he had been the one to suggest it back then. And even though Thor had spent a whole week throwing a tantrum once he found out what it meant, the name had stuck. 

Next to Loki rode Sif, who kept her gaze locked on the horizon and did not spare him a single glance. The same could not be said for the warriors three that formed the end, as he could keenly feel the daggers they stared into his back. 

Were his pranks that bad? Were his jokes so unfunny? Was he that unlikable? 

He'd once wondered long ago, though such trivial thoughts barely mattered anymore. 

It would serve him just fine if they remained silent and did not bother him at all. 

The sooner he found the source of the branches' creation, the sooner he could leave and watch the people that actually knew liked him. 

Soon – too soon in his opinion – they reached the golden gates of Asgard and rode on the crystalline rainbow bridge across the infinite ocean, whose waters flowed over the edge of the world. 

Sharp jagged cliffs protruded from beneath the water, most hidden by the fog of the waterfall, and at the far end of the bridge, perched upon the largest stone, stood the Bifröst in all its golden glory.

As they drew closer, Loki saw the ever-watchful Heimdall standing guard in front of it. The strength he wielded and the foresight he bore made him into the perfect mix between the Aesir and the Vanir and thus the sole person who could bear the burden of the world bridge.

Unmounting from Skygge once they stopped, Loki bypassed his brother and stood before Heimdall once again, ready to negotiate.

Heimdall's starry eyes, which reflected the entire galaxy, moved to his face and faltered for just a second. 

"You're not dressed warmly enough."

He spoke, startling all who came here. 

"I'm sorry?" 

"Do you think that you can deceive me? Think I cannot see it all?"

Heimdall continued, with his eyes trained solely on Loki, who gulped beneath its weight.

Thor, ever the impatient one, huffed behind him and promptly shoved his brother aside. 

"Heimdall, may we pass?" 

He asked gruffly, like a brute, rather than someone who almost bore the crown. 

Heimdall rightfully frowned, though it wasn't more than an upturn of the brow when his gaze jumped between them. 

"Never has an enemy slipped my watch until this day. I wish to know how that happened." 

"Then tell no one where we have gone until we've returned. Understand?"

Heimdall remained silent as Thor and his companions strode past him towards the Bifröst. Loki, however, stayed behind, pinned in place by a gaze that carried the weight of nine worlds within them. 

Those starry eyes roamed over his face, confusion palpable for those who knew where to look, until they stopped and stared right through him. As if he could see the real him. The one who sat on his throne, bound by his chosen burden. 

"Young Prince, pray tell why are you fractured?"

Loki froze. Unease hitting him with the force of a moon. 

"You carry a soul beyond your years, though your true soul seems to not have left you." Heimdall continued mercilessly. "Tell me, who are you really?"

His question was not to be taken lightly. Loki saw how his grip tightened around his weapon. How the metal glinted in the light. One wrong move, word or action and this body would die on the spot. 

Loki forced himself to laugh as he replied in a calm, persuasive voice,

"Heimdall, you seem to be mistaken. How could I ever be someone other than myself?"

"Truly?" The god scoffed, still staring right at him. "Then why do your eyes hold the crown of Yggdrasil? And why does this soul bear a weight as great as mine ?"

Before Loki could ask what he meant, Thor's voice called out behind them and urged them to move along, lest Odin took notice of their actions. 

Heimdall's all-seeing gaze shifted, and his body moved to turn.  

"Go on." He said, allowing Loki to pass him. "Join Thor on his quest for knowledge and reveal to me their ways. However, remember this, should you ever prove to be a threat, I shan't hesitate to kill you."

Loki had never walked this fast as he entered the chamber of the Bifröst and ignored all the snickering and snide comments made behind his back. No, such simple acts to rile up another in hopes of amusing oneself were not worth his time after the shock he experienced mere minutes ago. 

Heimdall saw. 

Heimdall noticed. 

Heimdall knew. 

And this was something unprecedented.  

Terror still held his heart in its clutches, and he dared not look back when the god slid his sword into the slot. 

"Be warned," he spoke, with his eyes trained into the distance, "I will honour my sworn oath to protect this realm as its Gatekeeper. If your return threatens the safety of Asgard, Bifröst will remain closed to you and you'll be left to die in the cold waste of Jotunheim."

"Rest assured. I don't plan to bring harm upon us."

Thor stated confidently. 

"None do." And as Heimdall said those words, he twisted his blade and sent them out to the realm of giants. 

They arrived with a sonic boom as the still winter air was forced apart by the bridge's descent. 

Jotunheim was as he remembered. A cold and desolate place, forever transformed by the piece they stole from Niflheim and unable to grow life without it. 

Deep, yawning chasms were carved into the earth, the darkness within them hiding its contents. While the cool, distant sun barely breached the heavy fog around them. 

Loki, however, did not share the awed fear of Thor's companions as he desperately tried to reign in his own. 

What did Heimdall mean by this? 

Did he truly see him, however impossible that might be? And what of his eyes? 

They were the same as always, were they not? 

Had he overlooked something in the mirror? 

Question upon question appeared in his mind, yet he knew no answer except for one simple fact. As soon as they returned to Asgard, he would leave this timeline alone. 

If Heimdall had noticed him watching, then this Loki would also be put in danger and could get killed before anything of significance happened. 

So Loki did what he always did. He pushed aside those tumultuous thoughts and focused on what was most important. Getting out of here alive. 

The icy wastelands, veiled in shadows, stretched on for miles ahead. Former grand buildings crumbled before their eyes, and the only sounds they could hear were those of breaking ice, howling winds and their own footsteps. 

The realm was also remarkably empty. Though for not a single second did they think they were alone. 

After they crossed the former walls and set foot into the ancient city, an unnatural quiet made itself known. A quiet that persisted until they reached the castle and thus the heart of Jotunheim. 

Half-crumbling walls and halls greeted them, still marred by the war the legends spoke about. A sight that sent a pang through Loki's heart; as perhaps, in a different time, this would've been his home. 

None of Thor's companions shared his sentiment as they eyed in apprehension the conditions of this place. 

"Where are they?"

Sif asked for the first time in a while, her wary eyes scanning their surroundings. 

Thor huffed in reply. 

"Hiding, as cowards always do."

It seemed that the Giants did not take his words lightly as a low hum rang through the air. 

"You've come a long way to die, Asgardians."

The king, Fárbauti, spoke in a voice that could shake the very ice they stood on. 

His silhouette appeared in a higher corridor, faintly lit by the frosty sun. 

"How did your people get into Asgard?"

Thor demanded to know as he stepped forward, looking up at the half-hidden visage of the king. 

Piercing red eyes gazed at them, straying from face to face until they locked onto Loki and widened for just a bit. He tilted his head, his eyes unmoving as they studied him with interest until they were forced back to Odin's golden boy. 

"I owe no answer to the kin of murderers and thieves." He replied cooly, his words drawing out the other hidden giants. 

Only warriors came forth, their frosty skin a tapestry of old scars and red eyes tired from the constant survival. Loki had been blind to such details in his youth. But could do nothing against it. He was just a spectator after all.

"Do not disrespect my father with such lies!"

Thor thundered, which only enraged them more. 

"Why have you come here? To make peace?" Fárbauti mocked him, " You long for battle. You crave it. You're nothing but a boy trying to prove himself a man."

Thor's jaw clenched, and his grip around his weapon tightened. 

"Thor, stop and think. Look around you, we're outnumbered." Loki murmured, all too aware of Fárbautis watchful gaze, and gripped the arm that wielded Mjolnir in warning. 

Thor all but ripped himself free from his hand. "Know your place, Brother." He spat and turned back to his enemy. 

Fárbauti sighed. There was no reason to be found in foolish youth. A strained, tired edge snuck into his voice as he turned away to face the old temple in the distance. "You know not what your actions would unleash. Go now, while I still allow it."

Loki grabbed Thor's head and forced him to bow, while they still had the chance. "We will accept your most gracious offer. Come on, Brother, no answers will be found today."

As they began to retreat, one of the giants, no doubt one from the younger brood, stepped forward and said loud and clear, "Yes. Go home little princess."

Which was the final nail in the coffin of Thor's patience. Smirking, he broke free from Loki's grip and showed all here why it was a bad idea to insult one of the most prideful gods in the realm that yearned for battle like a starved man.

In mere seconds, the fight was unleashed. 

Giants formed their icy weapons while the warriors unsheathed their blades. Metal and ice clashed against each other, neither side willing to give up. 

And Thor? Thor was relishing it. The thrill of battle, the ease with which he fought, the crumbling bodies of the giants, it all got his blood pumping. 

And so he fought, ignorant to his companions whose skin froze from a single touch. Not even when Fandral got stabbed clean through did it make his adrenaline wane. They called for him, begged to leave lest more casualties happened, but he did not listen and thus did not see the giant frozen monster that got unleashed from its cage.

Loki, who relied on his illusions and spells to survive, ran off with the others, desperate to get the body to safety while Thor endangered them all. 

The beast roared and trampled after them, its claws spearing through the ice. He feared his heart would get stuck in his throat whenever he felt its ice-cold breath ghosting down his neck or heard its fangs clashing against one another with thunderous sounds. 

In the distance, the crack of thunder was heard before all of a sudden, the ground crumbled beneath them and swallowed the beast whole. 

Though Loki knew better than to feel relieved. 

They ran through the icy wasteland, keenly aware of the Jotuns chasing after them, until they saw their landing point near the great abyss. 

No sooner had they reached it, did the ice shatter beneath them once again, revealing the same horrid beast that had chased them here. 

Frozen in shock, they could only watch as it stood on its hind legs, claws spread and ready to strike, when the sharp sound of thunder cut through the air. 

Thor had arrived, flown here by Mjolnir and crashed right into the monster's chest. 

The impact alone sent it down into the dark depths of the chasm behind them, yet relief was not yet to be felt. 

A bright light appeared before them, the radiant colours of the rainbow illuminating the foggy land and revealing within it the Allfather himself. 

Clad in armour on the back of Sleipnir, Odin stared at them in disappointment and turned to gaze at Fárbauti, who emerged from the crowd of vengeful giants and returned it with his own contempt.

"Allfather. You look weary." 

The giant king stated, though his voice betrayed his own exhaustion. 

"End this now, Fárbauti. Let them go."

Odin replied, clearly shaken despite his best attempts to hide it. 

The giant sneered. 

"Your boy sought this out."

"You're right. And these are the actions of a boy, treat them as such. You and I can end this here and now, before there's further bloodshed."

Fárbauti shook his head and gazed long and hard at his old enemy. 

"We are far beyond diplomacy now, Allfather. Your boy should've thought first before coming here. An embarrassment is he. A stain to the name of Allfather." 

Odin let his gaze drift to Thor's dumbfounded face. His eyes, tired and unmistakably pained, hardened once more, and he replied without an ounce of warmth. 

"That he is."

As soon as the world bridge closed and their feet were back on golden ground, Thor whirled around to face his father and exclaimed, 

"Why did you bring us back?"

Odin simply glared at him with the gaze of a ruler. 

"Do you even realise what you've done? What you've started?"

"I was just protecting my home!"

"You cannot even protect your friends!" Odin replied, gesturing at the still bleeding Fandral and the frost-bitten skin of the others. "How can you hope to protect a realm?"

"There won't be a realm to protect if you're afraid to act. The Jotuns must learn to fear me, just as they once feared you."

The Allfather scoffed, disbelief twisting his features as the others left for Asgard to get healed.

"That's pride and vanity talking, not leadership. You've forgotten everything I taught you about a warrior's patience."

"While you wait and be patient, the Nine Realms laugh at us." Thor retorted, his own anger rising. "The old ways are done. You'd stand giving speeches while Asgard falls."

With each word he spoke, Odin's face contorted further into rage. Rage, that bled onto his voice as he shouted, "You are a vain, greedy, cruel boy!"

"And you are an old man and a fool!"

Thor's yell rang through Brifrost like a slap in the face. Odin staggered a little and lowered his gaze as he realised just what had become of his child.

"Yes." He said quietly. "I was a fool to think you were ready."

Raising his gaze once more, Odin declared in all his authority, "Thor Odinson, you have betrayed the express command of your king. Through your arrogance and stupidity, you've opened these peaceful realms and innocent lives to the horror and desolation of war!" 

His blade inserted into the Bifrösts slot, crackling energy shooting out from it, as Odin descended the steps and approached him. 

"You are unworthy of these realms! You're unworthy of your title! You're unworthy of the loved ones you have betrayed." Each sentence he finished by ripping away Thor's gauntlets and belt, leaving him without the tools to withstand his hammer's power. And then Odin stepped back and took from Thor his most treasured possession. Mjolnir.

With heavy heart and heavier soul, the godking declared, "In the name of my father and his father before, I, Odin Allfather, cast you out!" And pushed his son into the vortex, after which the godly weapon followed, its once boundless power now sealed beneath his spell. 

Chapter Text

No one spoke. 

Not to curse, not to rage, not to cheer. 

For how could they be anything but silent, when the brightest and loudest among them was gone. 

Seated on the cushions that surrounded the fireplace the warriors three, Sif and Loki, quietly sipped at their cups of goat milk mixed with honey – the drinks usually so sweet and mellow taste, no more than ash on their tongues. 

It had been given to them by Eir after she had patched up their wounds, under the condition that they would not do any strenuous activities until they'd fully healed. Thus, they were forced to spend their time at the fireplace and wallow in regret. 

After a while of stifling silence, the usually so cheerful Volstagg softly sighed and looked up from the swirling liquid.  

"We should never have let him go." 

He said, his words ripping his companions out of their equally depressive thoughts.

Sif, who sat closest to the fire, next to Fandral whose injured body occupied the entire couch, huffed and turned towards Volstagg. "There was no stopping him. You know his moods. His stubbornness."

"Well," Fandral chimed in, with a voice that knew not how to whisper, "at least he's only banished and not dead. Which is what we'd all be if that guard hadn't told Odin where we'd gone."

A hum of agreement rang through the room and Fandral, ever the attention seeker, preened from behind the rim of his cup. 

Loki on the other hand, scoffed. 

As the only one who returned with barely an injury, he chose the seat farthest away from them, near the window sill that overlooked the courtyard and garden in the distance. 

"He should've been faster."  

Loki muttered quietly. His words not meant for the ears of others. The hearing of godlike warriors, however, should not be underestimated as as soon as he said that, all turned to look at him in shock. 

"What?" 

"I said, he should've been faster."

Loki repeated harshly and finally looked back at them in earnest. Their eyes laid upon him like coals on a frozen lake, burning hot as if made to pierce his skin and reveal all his secrets. Shock, contempt and even gratitude were plastered on their faces for him to see. Without a pause, he continued. "I told that guard at the stables to go to Odin after we'd left. He should be flogged for taking so long. We should never have reached Jotunheim."

"You told him?"

Volstagg asked again. 

"I thought out of all of us, you would be the last to shy away from a chance to break a rule."

The disbelief and indignation must've shown on his face as Fandral – despite the shocking revelation – had to stifle a laugh. 

"I'm Mischievous. Not suicidal." Loki replied with a deadpan voice as he rose from his seat. 

"In any case, why so surprised?" he continued while slowly walking to the middle of the room. "Thor would never listen to me, so I had to get the only one who could put some sense into him. I had no idea that my attempt to save his life would end in his banishment."

Sif exchanged a glance with the others before she, too, followed his example and stood up from her seat. "Loki," she urged, sounding more desperate than he had ever heard her, "You must go to the Allfather and convince him to change his mind." 

Loki almost rolled his eyes. 

"And then what?" He asked, his tone sharp with thinly veiled frustration. "You know I love Thor more dearly than any of you, but you know what he is. He's arrogant. He's reckless. He's dangerous. You saw how he was today. Is that what Asgard needs from its king?" 

When his "dear friends" failed to reply, Loki took in their uncomfortable faces and huffed. 

"Thought so."

Without another word, the second prince turned heel and walked out of the room, leaving them and his untouched mug behind on the window sill. 

Sif sighed. The exhaustion of the day washed over her like a landmine as soon as he disappeared, and she sunk into her previous seat while her arm throbbed in its sling like a reminder. 

"He may speak of the good of Asgard, but he's always been jealous of Thor." She muttered and threw her one good arm over her eyes. Hogun's useless pacing was only making her head spin more. 

Volstagg, whose beard was traced with milk, set down his cup and looked at the others. 

"We should be grateful to him, he saved our lives," he spoke, for he was not someone to forget a life debt. Hogun on the other hand, was not so easily swayed and stopped to look at him. For he, a warrior of the Vanir had learned over years of hardship to question every word. 

In the past hours of constant thinking, Hogun had recalled the words of the Giant king and spoke his thoughts aloud. "Farbauti said there were traitors in the House of Odin. A master of magic could bring three Jotuns into Asgard." 

Such words, if spoken carelessly, could easily warp one's perception, though Fandral only scoffed in reply and turned back to the fire. 

"Don't be ridiculous." He said as he stared at the dancing flames. "Loki's always been one for mischief, but you're talking about something else entirely."

Far away from their conversation, Loki strode through the halls at a fast but unsuspicious pace. 

His annoyed expression spooked quite a few servants who passed him on the way, but he hardly cared. For he had only one thing on his mind right now. 

It was time to leave. 

Too long had he stayed here, without ever seeing the anomaly that caused this branch to form. And by now his presence clearly posed a threat to himself, which was all the more reason to leave this cursed place. 

He had had enough of this constant, poorly hidden contempt. 

Had he wanted to be judged or psychoanalyzed, he'd gone to Mobius instead. 

Consumed by his thoughts, his feet carried him on autopilot to his room and only when the door slammed shut behind him did he regain his clarity. 

A loud sigh tore from his throat – though it could be better described as a snarl. 

Tearing off the cape and golden armour, the boots and crown and other useless frivolities, Loki threw them onto the floor and approached the mirror. 

He did not know what drove him to do this. Pure instinct perhaps, or this body's foolish youth. However, the reason did not matter when his fist collided with the once so pristine surface and shattered it to pieces in an instant.

Only faintly did he feel the pain, when blood escaped his knuckles. The crimson liquid, much too bright as is pearled down the glass and gathered in the newly formed valleys. 

And within the fragmented reflection, he saw himself. A youthful face almost forgotten. A softness he hadn't borne in years and an expression of frustration, while his trembling lips and eyes betrayed what he really felt. 

Loki ignored his emotions and simply let them wash away, while his attention was captured by something far more dire than this. 

His eyes. 

Eyes that – as he'd been told – resembled jade or fresh foliage. Though now, they were anything but that. 

The iris was coloured from blue to green, while around the pupil, minuscule branches spread that resembled the top of a tree. 

Whichever way he moved, the iris would flicker and shift between this, and its usual colour. 

So Heimdall could truly see him.

And wasn't that a terrifying thought?

A borderline hysterical laugh spilled over his lips, as he brought a trembling hand to his mouth, uncaring of the blood that smeared on his face.

He did not care how or why – if anything, he'd never need to worry about this again. 

All he had to do now was leave and be done with this world.

Without further ado, Loki walked over to the neatly made bed and sat on the dark green covers that bordered on black. Closing his eyes, he took in the sensations of his home one last time before he let go and felt himself sink.  The sounds around him faded, growing lesser and lesser the deeper he went until all he heard was silence. 

Patiently he waited for the static to resurface. To hear the whispering vines again and the low hum of energy within him. Yet nothing happened. 

Slowly, light rose behind his eyelids and he blinked. His blurry sight could only make out a few objects, though the brightness was already clue enough to know that he wasn't where he ought to be. 

For a few seconds, he wondered if this was an afterimage or a memory. But his surroundings failed to fade and confusion arrived. 

What was going on? 

How was it that he had not left this worldline? 

Thus he tried again, over and over, yet despite all his efforts, the static remained just out of reach. Every time he neared the border beyond which his throne lay, his consciousness would stop and be pulled back into this reality against his will. 

It did not make sense. Loki was a mere spectator. And thus should not be bound to this place. 

Unless... 

He was the anomaly. 

And in that instant, as he became aware of what had transpired, sensations flooded his veins in a way he had not felt for ages. 

It was as if he took his first breath after death. The cool air within his lungs moved with each inhale, brushing over the inside of his nose. The Fabric rubbed against his skin, soft and much too regal for discarded royalty. The floor beneath his feet was uneven and the bed sunk beneath his weight. His hair shifted and brushed along his nape. His limbs moved per his every desire and the biting wound in his knuckles steadily dripped blood onto his clothes. 

It was overwhelming. Almost agonizingly so when the barrier between mind and body vanished. 

His only protection was gone. And dare he say it, he felt naked without it. At least the discomfort was first to vanish as he became accustomed to his new state. And so a question rose from his mind. 

If was well and truly here – in flesh and blood, yet not his body – had the original died? Was he now trapped here against his will? 

No. Loki decided. He wouldn't let this keep him here. And if he could not find an answer on his own, then he would simply look elsewhere for them. 

The grand library of Asgard was as he remembered, a maze of shelves and books that stood amidst the scent of ageless pages. As he walked among the towering shelves that seemed to reach the ceiling, Loki couldn't help but feel a strange feeling of yearning. As he knew that, in the not-so-far-off-future,  all this would be engulfed by the fires of Muspel. 

Dressed now in softer clothes, a simple green tunic and wool pants, he let his finger trail over the many scriptures that were written and preserved by gods and skalds alike. Though, unlike the many other times he had sought refuge within these quiet corners, today he'd come with a goal in mind that would not be easily achieved. As not many books talked about lost souls or other forms of possession. 

He combed through the books row after row, sometimes with magic, sometimes without, until, at last, he had gathered a sizable collection of various spellbooks and other tomes, which he carried over to a table near the windows. 

Gentle starlight spilled onto the pages written in blood, coal and ink, as Loki poured over the contents like a man starved. 

'Possessions of the mind.' 'Ghosts and demons.' 'Soul swapping.' 'Out of body experiences.' 'Astral travelling.' 'Parasitic minds.' And many other curious phenomena that could be linked to his dilemma. Though none of them came even close. 

The books piled up around him — beginning to range around more topics than just the mind; scrolls were brought and put away, and the table creaked beneath the weight until Loki's head fell onto the yellowed pages with a dull thump. A longwinded sigh left him, causing a few pages to flutter. 

Nothing. He found nothing. Expected, but disappointing nonetheless. 

Behind him, soft footsteps came ever closer 'til they came to a halt behind his chair. 

Like a fingerprint, one's magical signature was unique in the whole world and could not be replicated in any way. Thus, his shoulders subconsciously relaxed when he felt the unmistakable power of his mother that managed to envelop the room in an invisible light. 

Warm, like an embrace – both loving and protective, it seemed to curl around him on its own as if wanting to shield him from all the harm in the world.  

A smile formed on his face unwillingly, though he made sure it did not show. 

Her hand moved into his line of sight, calloused fingertips brushing over a title stolen from the ice giants long ago, whose tongue only few could read. Her touch was soft, hesitant almost as it moved over to his shoulder and gently rubbed circles into his flesh. 

Tired, oh so tired, Loki shook her off and sat up with his back straight and hands folded in front of him as if he were at a meeting. Friggas hand remained in the air, her eyes soft yet saddened as she watched him turn so cold and slowly let it fall back to her side. 

"How do you feel?" The Queen of Asgard asked gently as she took a seat on a nearby chair. Keeping a respectful distance. 

Loki frowned slightly. 

"You know exactly how."

"I see you found out then?"

Her eyes moved over to the frosty tome on a pile about ancient magic. 

"I don't understand why you hadn't just told me." Loki burst out as he had once in another time. His voice quivered much to his chagrin, but he did not let it hinder his pursuit of truth. "From the beginning. Why let me live a lie?"

"Oh Loki, this was never meant to happen." she sighed, her eyes trembling faintly. "Back then, when war still raged over the realms, fate was too muddled for me to do anything against it, and by the time I saw, it was too late."

Although unwilling to admit it, he understood. 

As he had always known what burden foresight carried. Now even more so than back then. 

Silence settled over them for a heartbeat before a question rose up from within him, that had plagued him for as long as he remembered. 

Quietly, tenderly even, he asked, 

"... did you know her? My real mother?" 

Frigga's breath hitched. 

A faint tremble went through her frame as memories engulfed her and gave birth to a soft yet radiant smile. 

"Your mother. Ah, she was a wonderful woman. Always a bright and playful soul. She came to me you know? Back then when she found out that she had you. She looked so happy, that all the foliage around her seemed to bloom. I truly thought that you were her greatest joy in life that she'd live to witness."

The fondness with which she spoke of the other goddess, brought a bitter smile to Loki's lips, who tugged at the skin near his nails. 

 "What happened to her then?" 

"Ah..." Frigga's smile dimmed as she averted her gaze. "It would be best if your father told you. And please believe me; he regrets what has happened even if it doesn't show."

At the mention of his father, a wave of shame and anger washed over him once more. For both himself and the other. "Then how do you go on? What am I supposed to do when I don't belong here, nor there?"

A pained expression settled on her face when she reached over to take his hand into hers. 

"Only you can decide what is the best course of action. I can only foresee the consequences of your choice. Just remember, that fate is never set in stone."

The warmth of her skin was blazing against his colder one though a welcome distraction from the emotions that threatened to spill out. 

Unable to help himself, Loki sunk into her arms and buried his face in her shoulder to stop from breaking down. He did not wish for her to see him in such a distraught state. 

Wrapped in her gentle embrace as his beloved mother hummed his favourite lullaby under her breath, his thoughts began to circle her last words. "Fate was not set in stone." That much even he knew, given that he was the one who decided it. But if this was really not a temporary thing if he was to stay here for more than just a few days. Maybe, just maybe, he had a chance to mend his regrets and change the story for the better... 

A spark of hope ignited within his heart. 

Carefully confined in its chamber lest it burned out from false promises. But still there. Waiting. Waiting for him to act. 

As he raised his head once more, it was as if a burden had fallen from his shoulder, even if only temporarily and glued to his face was an earnest smile. 

Her breath hitched when their eyes met, and she saw how his usually dull jade had transformed into a sunlit forest. The colours so achingly familiar that it pained her to even look. 

Loki did not pay attention to her turmoil as he swiftly cast a spell to return all the books and scrolls he had gathered to their rightful place. 

"Well then, I must be off." He said, knowing full well that the time had come to confront his father in the vault. "I wish you, a pleasant evening."

"Ah Loki, wait!" His mother called just before he could turn the corner. "Just know that if you ever need to talk to someone – no matter what ails you – know that I am here for you. Always."

A warm smile bloomed on his face as he nodded. 

And as the Queen watched him leave, a sigh escaped her as she wondered just what had happened to her child, for his fate to be nothing but a forest of green pulsing vines. 

 The stairs leading down to the weapons vault were eerily silent, without any guards to make their rounds. In some places, frost still clung to the stone, and Loki avoided those like the plague. 

A few wards lit up beneath him as he passed over the threshold – no doubt alerting Odin of his presence – and entered the floating chamber deep beneath the castle itself. 

The remnants of the massacre were still there, though in lesser severity, and Loki calmly approached the winter casket and touched its ice-cold surface within the piece of Niflheim raged. With mild fascination he watched his skin change into something that once horrified him. Pale blue, like freshly frozen ice, with smooth lines embedded into it, that crawled up his arm, higher and higher, until Odin's call ripped him from his daze. 

Startled, he let go of the artefact and turned towards his surrogate father, who stood at the far end of the hall, panting as he leaned against his spear. 

"Please, son, do not touch it anymore." The old King pleaded, the pain in his voice new and raw, though Loki refused to interpret too much into it. 

"Why?" He replied, keeping his voice dangerously calm. "Do you not want to see what you've stolen? What you've taken from his rightful place?"

Odin shook his head and slowly came closer on frail legs. "No, Loki, you do not belong there. In that cursed temple, I found you, yes, but you were so small for a giant's offspring. There was no way you'd have survived, left there like that, alone and suffering." 

"How could you be so sure." Loki spat, "What about my mother, would she have left me to die? Would my father? You were already so deep in Jotun's blood; why would you take me as well?"

"You know not what you speak of child."

"How could I if you don't tell me anything. Is it so hard for you to just explain what really happened instead of those glorified fairy tales of yours?"

Loki's voice cracked, distorting the echo within the chamber. The raw desperation was all too overwhelming as he yearned to hear his father's answer from his own mouth. 

For a few moments, Odin visibly wrung with himself before he sighed and lowered himself onto the steps, gesturing for his son to sit as well, which he declined politely. 

"Back then, when the war raged on and the battlefield became my second home. There was a goddess of the wilderness who was as free-spirited as nature itself and refused to obey the rules laid out before her. " He huffed out a soft laugh – a sound heard rarely and continued, "In a way, I see a lot from her within you, for she was just as much a trickster as you aim to be. 

"One day, while I was away once more and fought against the raging hordes, she somehow managed to meet Fárbauti and, over time, fell in love with him. I had no idea of this and thus did not see the peaceful end we could've had instead of this bloody truce. The day when we reached Jotunheim, the earth was bathed in blood and after many long hours, I managed to reach Fárbauti and was ready to strike him down. In that moment, Laufey threw herself between us and..." His voice failed him. As if shame was strangling him alive. After a brief moment, he took in a shuddering breath and forced himself to continue.

"A life was lost for this truce to be held. I was blind, drowning in grief and fear and took you and the winter casket with me, so that such bloodshed would never arise again.

"I thought," Odin continued still, his voice tinged with old sorrow. "We could unite our kingdoms one day. Bring about an alliance, bring about permanent peace. Through you."

Loki was shaking in place. The sheer volume of raw emotion threatened to overwhelm him again. 

He felt somewhat foolish that he reacted this way, for his days of youth were over but what could he do about it now that he was stuck? 

"I could've done so with my kin had you let me meet with Thor, perhaps have him as a friend and not as this favoured prodigy, whose shadow I must be." He replied in the end in a strained voice. 

Odin looked up at him, his tired eyes already drooping. "I have never favoured him."

"Do not lie." He snarled, his anger breaking from its restraints. "I was always much too different from the rest. This godly halfblood whose ancestor your kind once killed. You know just as well as I that, no matter how much you claim to love me, you could never have a Frost Giant sitting on the throne of Asgard!"

That shout was as freeing as it was terrifying. 

Just like in the past, the body of his father crumbled in on itself and left Loki scrambling to catch it. 

An unpleasant sight this was, his once so strong father reduced to this just because he refused to sleep. But Loki had a role to play and thus cried out to the guards in desperation, whose footsteps he soon heard approach. 

Clutching the old man close to him, Loki leaned down and whispered quietly to no one but himself. 

"Don't worry father. I will take care of it all; just wait."