Jul 30, 2012

Surrender, Chapter 7: Goodbyes

Loki knew this forest.

His momentary gain faltered, weakened; he was running out of time. The burning pains began to return, but he dragged his feet forward. Forward into Mirella’s garden.

Loki fell to his knees once he entered the hedged garden. His head burned, and he clutched at it with with both hands as he let the staff fall to the ground. Each breath stung his raw throat, but he hoarsely murmured, “Call— Freyr—”

Mirella’s shining green eyes glistened with caution. She approached Loki slowly as a cat stalking through grass and laid a hand on the back of his head. She frowned with concern when she saw the staff, and her gaze trailed off into the distance toward the mountains—to where L’Shale had been kept for ages until now. She closed her eyes to enter Loki’s thoughts.

The inside of Loki’s mind had become a jumble of broken parts, a home carelessly ravaged and ransacked. All around her she sensed barriers burning and memories threatened with incineration. She searched quickly for a familiar trail by which she could find his consciousness.

Everyone had a mental signature—a vision, scene, or representation that captured their essence. It took only moments, but she searched through years of his memories looking for him—he was hiding himself in hopes of slowing L'Shale's control. Finally, she felt his familiar chill and followed it straight to him. The memory was actually not a memory at all, but a construct—a created space within Loki's mind. This particular construct was a large castle. Loki crouched in the corner of a large well-furnished room. Bookshelves, tables, bed clothes, curtains—everything was aflame except for a small area that surrounded him. The flames did not touch her as she moved through the room.

She approached Loki and calmly asked, “Do you remember me, Asgardian?”

He looked up at her with a wry smile,  “Are you here to join me in my own personal hell? Fitting that I should be accompanied by a creature that can control what I could not without burning myself alive.” He then asked more seriously, “Is this room all that is left of me? Have I lost?”

“No, Loki. You are indeed like the wild stags I admire—strong of will and arrogant.” She smiled knowingly.

He had no time for compliments. The flames and the pain grew ever hotter. He masked his anxiety with impatience. “Then why have you come? Will Freyr not help me?”

“I have called Freyr. He comes with great haste. But time may pass differently within your mind. I have come to offer my aid, if you would take it.” She took his hand, and he let himself be pulled upright.

Without warning the scenery changed. They were no longer in the burning room, but a massive frozen cave. The floor was slick and difficult to walk upon—it was ice. Loki looked around, puzzled. The pain L’Shale was causing him had lessened, but still remained like a braced wound. “Where are we?” His voice echoed through the expansive cavern. He tried to take his hand back, but Mirella held onto him tightly.

“Do not let me go. I have shielded you from L’Shale, but I cannot hold it for long. This place is how you feel to me. It is your essence.” The cave was dingy, cold, and barren. Ice hung from the cave’s rocky ceiling. It seemed nothing had been there for thousands of years, if life had ever existed there at all.

“This...reminds you of me?” His words were surprised rather than incredulous.

“Yes,” she smiled, showing endearment for her choice. “A frozen underground lake. At a glance it is only layers of cold and darkness, but beneath the frozen barrier the lake's water teems with life. That is what you are to me.”

Before Loki could comment further on Mirella’s choice of venue, the cavern began to warm. Ice melted from the ceilings, and Mirella’s serene face became creased with worry. “I cannot hold him back much longer, Loki. You must endure. You must want to stay alive.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Of course I want to stay alive.”

“You must not surrender to L’Shale. If not for your father’s distraction, you would have been lost.”

“You rummaged through my memories, too?” This time he did speak incredulously. Spite for his father’s aid had driven him back to Alfheim rather than allow Odin to help rid himself of L’Shale’s influence. No one likes to bring their faults to light.

“I’ve seen much of your life, Loki. I am sorry to have looked through your memories, but it was necessary to find you. You hid yourself well within your...castle?” The word was not part of her typical vocabulary. Her delicate brow furrowed slightly as her green eyes searched his face. “I understand little of Asgardian customs, but I did see that you are solitary by choice, not fate. A sheep that left the flock to become a wolf.”

“I was a lion raised among lambs,” he defended hotly. “I was not born to be herded; I was born to be a king.” Comparing the warrior gods of Asgard to lambs clearly showed his lack of regard.

Quickly she countered, “Should you not first rule yourself before planning to rule others?” What could a wild Fae understand of kings? He considered a refutation, but he knew her observation was correct.

The ice beneath their feet began to crack and shift noisily. The cave itself flickered, and Mirella clung to Loki’s hands, but her concentration was overpowered. Abruptly the cavern melted away and heat rushed in on them both. They were back in the burning castle room again.

L’Shale’s molten voice seared their ears. “Ah...so you do have a friend, Loki. You hid her memory well. And she is a Fae. How interesting! It was most kind of her to leave a trail straight to you—I may even let you watch her little green leaves burn. Knock, knock.” The knock at the large wooden door could have been a battering ram.

They both turned to stare at the door, dropping each others’ hands. “What’s taking Freyr so long? Will he show himself here as well?” Loki ignored the returning pain for now. It seemed Mirella’s shielding, however brief, had given him more strength.

Mirella looked around the room. “He may not appear as we have, but as a symbol or—” Her sentence cut off as she leapt across the flame-covered room. She beckoned him to join her, “Loki! The flames cannot hurt you if you do not let them. Do not fear him!"

L’Shale rumbled with growing anticipation, “Knock, knock!” The door threatened to shatter, but held fast.

Loki proceeded cautiously and found her advice correct—the flames did not touch him as he walked through them. Well if it had been that easy before... The thought faded as he saw what Mirella had found. She stood next to a large bowl the size of a kitchen’s cook pot—big enough that the two of them would need to work together to shift it. The bowl did not look carved, though, more like grown. It was rough and bark-covered to the touch and filled with water.

“It would seem Freyr has sent us some help—”

Before Loki could remark further on the bowl’s origins, the door burst open admitting a large figure that could only be L’Shale. He towered above the two of them, a hulking conglomeration of gray rocky appendages that oozed lava from the cracks between them. A craggy mouth and two fiery coal eyes rumbled a greedy laugh as his hungry gaze fell on the two of them across the room.

Mirella spoke quietly so that only Loki would hear her. “We’ll have to push it over together. The water will not defeat him, but it should buy us enough time to escape the room and trap him here. It will be up to Freyr to rebind L'Shale."

L’Shale lumbered closer, “Loki,” Seeing him speak his name sent shivers down Loki’s spine, and truly struck a chord of fear in his heart. But rather than betray his fear, he remained silent and managed to keep a straight face. “You have lost, Loki. I will take care of this place when you are gone. I appreciate all your help.” L’Shale seemed to smile again—if rocks could smile. He advanced on the two of them in three strides, reaching for Loki with both of his rocky, lava-drenched arms. The lava fell to the floor in clumps, burning the carpets where it landed.

Loki stood frozen with fear. You have to do it now! You have to get out! He willed his voice to speak and was surprised to hear himself shout.

“Now!” Loki yelled, and the two of them hefted the large wooden bowl so its contents splashed onto the floor and ran over both of L’Shale’s legs. When water met lava smoke hissed and blanketed the room. Fires across the floor and furniture were extinguished immediately. L’Shale bellowed in pain, but the remaining flames in the room leapt even higher. While L’Shale struggled to maneuver his stiff hardening legs, Loki grabbed Mirella’s hand, and they fled for the door. As he passed through the doorway, a cool wave washed all trace of L’Shale’s destruction from his mind. The fire was no longer rampaging through his psyche; it was all contained within the room along with L’Shale himself.

L’shale crumbled and oozed toward them in a wailing rage. No! L’Shale can’t be allowed to leave that room. I’ll just close the door and—

Mirella squeezed Loki’s hand before she let go of it. “Goodbye, my frozen lake. Stay strong.” She rushed into the room and crouched between L’Shale and the doorway ready to pounce. She glanced toward the hallway, and Loki saw her face just before the door slammed shut. It was mischievous and determined, but her eyes displayed something else. It took a moment for him to recognize the look—she was regretful.

There was only silence in the dark hallway, dimness and silence. Her actions caught up with him, and he threw his weight against at the door frantically trying to open it. “Mirella! Open the door! There must be another way!” It wouldn’t budge. She’s going to get herself killed. Foolish little Fae! Why would she sacrifice herself to save me?

He let go of the door and backed away from it. When his back hit the wall he slumped down into a crouch with his arms around his knees. All the pain really was gone, but now it felt as if all feeling was gone. The drab hallway seemed to press in on him, and the consequences of his lifelong choices weighed heavily upon his shoulders—he was very alone. What does it matter that I rule these empty halls? This is only a desolate, nameless castle—not even a true place. Yet this is the cold world I have built around myself. There are no soldiers here to guard it, no subjects to rule, no one else at all to live for. There is only me. I am truly alone.

*************

After an infinite moment of contemplation, Loki awakened to see a forest’s canopy above him. He rolled over onto his side and winced. His body ached from head to foot, but he hoisted himself up anyway. He was not alone in Mirella’s garden. Before him stood a tall godly figure who looked not unlike Odin in many ways, but he was softer, fair-haired, more fatherly, and clothed in animal furs and leathers—a god who ruled nature, but held a soft spot for all creatures great and small. A short ways beyond the garden a horse-sized golden-bristled boar rooted in the leafy undergrowth noisily—Gullinbursti, the god’s mount.

“Freyr, I presume,” Loki bowed his head ever so slightly. “I thank you for your help,” he added almost begrudgingly.

“Loki, son of Odin the All-father of Asgard,” Freyr’s voice was indeed fatherly, but his tone suggested he could praise or scold equally with ease. More like Odin than I thought. “I should have expected to meet you one day, though I wish it could have been under less stressful circumstances.” He raised his eyebrows and wiggled the staff, L’Shale.

“Mirella,” Loki said her name with irritation. She had sacrificed herself to rebind L’Shale and save his life.  How could she be so senseless? Surely there was another way. He glanced around the garden for her and found her lifeless body reposed upon the fallen log. Vines and leaves already covered her fragile limbs—a withered flower returning to the earth naturally.

Freyr seemed to read Loki’s thoughts, “It was the only way, Loki. Do not judge her for her choice to save you. She held a lot of respect for your abilities. And you are meant to see greater lessons in life yet before it is your time to die.” He gave Loki a knowing smile as cryptic as his foretelling.

Loki’s voice perked with interest, “And how would you know that? We’ve only just met.”

“Many of us gods can sense the fate of all living things—a god’s intuition, perhaps. Some of us can use it more adeptly than others.”

Every muscle in Loki’s body felt bruised and stiff—he wasn’t sure how long he’d been unconscious—but he moved slowly toward Mirella’s figure on the overgrown log. He picked up a stray leaf that had landed on her face and examined it idly. His expression was tight, betraying no outward emotion. Forgive me if I do not mourn for you, but you have my thanks as well. I can’t help but judge your actions unnecessary no matter the opinion of your god.

Freyr crossed the garden to join him. “I am sorry you encountered L’Shale after his corruption. If only you could have known him in his youth as I did...” Freyr wistfully looked off toward the mountain range in the distance and held up the staff to admire its lump of granite. “His heart was not always so envious and hateful. L’Shale was a young mountain spirit once, but his power-hungry heart sought more than the solid foundations bestowed upon him. Over long years his jealousy compressed within him to form a burning hatred, and the only path he saw was to erupt. Forests and lives were lost to waves of molten rock. I could abide his hatred no longer and bound him to this staff. The mountain farthest to the west is all that remains of his shell—a dormant volcano. L’Shale saw in you a kindred spirit, a soul filled with jealousy and hatred. He sought control of your mind for his own gains. Much as you sought the staff for your own gains. Two peas in a pod, eh?“ Freyr gave a chuckle, but Loki was not amused. This god and his sorry excuse for humor...

“What will become of the staff?”

“It will be kept safe,” Freyr gave Loki a wry smile, “But should it find its way into greedy hands again, L’Shale will stay as dormant as his former home. Ah, I believe your escort has arrived.” Freyr motioned with L’Shale to the other side of the garden. Loki turned to see Odin and groaned under his breath.

“Greetings, Freyr,” Odin spoke briskly, but not impolitely. “I’ve come for my son, if you are done with him. I trust all has been set right with...L’Shale, wasn’t it?”

“My heart warms to see you, Odin,” Freyr smiled broadly and reached out to embrace Odin. Odin was a little stiff, but he allowed himself to be hugged—a warrior accepting a hug from a druid was quite a sight. “Yes, cousin,” Odin flinched at the familial address. They were not actual cousins—more like friendly rivals. “L’Shale has been rebound to the staff, and your son will be right as rain with a little rest. His mental abilities are very exceptional.”

Loki stopped listening to the conversation between Odin and Freyr. There were too many thoughts rolling over in his mind. Mirella died—willingly—to save me. Why? How much hatred was my own and how much came from L’Shale? Why do I seek control of others? Is it not folly to put trust in others? Why am I no longer satisfied to rely only upon myself? Why am I bothered by the death of a foolish Fae? So many questions.

“Loki, my son, we must return to Asgard,” Odin clapped a hand on Loki’s shoulder. “You must be judged.”

Loki nodded Freyr farewell and glanced around Mirella's garden one last time before forming a gateway back home to Asgard. His hand brushed the hedge that marked her garden as he and Odin left, the forest just a sea of brown.

********

Loki took them back to the throne room in Asgard’s palace. Thor was there to meet them, obviously no longer influenced by the glamour. His face was weary, but concerned. "I do not know what you did, brother, but I am glad it is over. I felt as if I was trapped inside a nightmare. I doubted myself at every turn and felt as helpless as a babe."

Loki responded to his brother with a silent gaze that betrayed none of the thoughts and concerns which occupied him. Instead Loki gave in to his weariness and sank to his knees in the middle of the great hall. He maintained his emotionless silence, the day’s events replaying and remixing in his mind. ...a kindred spirit...soul filled with jealousy and hatred...layers of cold and darkness...stay strong...you are meant to see greater lessons...

Odin paced in front of Loki, his voice commanding and objective, “Loki Odinson—” Loki spared Odin a glance at the address, “you are my son as much as Thor even if you do not choose to acknowledge it—you have abused your friends and loved ones for your own selfish gains. My own heart clouded my judgment when I allowed you to stay in Asgard for guidance. I now see that you will not accept that guidance. Perhaps you will choose a wiser path on your next trip to Midgard.”

Loki’s head sank, and he sighed. He had anticipated this judgment from Odin, but in a way he was intrigued by it. A different sort of challenge, perhaps, but it should be simple enough. Why would she sacrifice herself to save me? Surely she understood me after looking through so much of my life. Why sacrifice yourself for a selfish, greedy stranger from another realm? She had nothing to gain...

“You may return to Asgard once you have demonstrated a sincere understanding of compassion—to alleviate the undue suffering of others rather than cause it. Until then, you will live as a mortal. You are hereby exiled until I judge you fit to return to us."

Odin’s words clicked in Loki’s thoughts, bringing together a line of logic that could only make sense to Loki. Of course...the Fae helped me to gain favor with Freyr. Who knows what status she may reincarnate with now. But the voice became smaller, anguished. No...I cannot fool myself. She really did care for me. The capacity matters not, but she did care. Thank you, Mirella. I was the fool, not you.

Loki nodded solemnly and closed his eyes, accepting the judgment in silence. For a moment he imagined an Asgard where he did not have so much emotional baggage—a place where he could stand by his brother faithfully and his father was proud of him—but that world did not exist. It changes nothing to dwell on fancies. Here and now is all there is no matter how much I wish to change the past. I shall find a way home—one way or another.

And then the world was black. It was nighttime in Midgard.

Jul 27, 2012

Surrender, Chapter 6: Desperate Measures

When Odin entered the great hall Thor was awaiting him patiently. Thor knelt with right fist to heart as was customary reverence when addressing the king for counsel.  “Good morning, father. I am sorry to disturb your daily respite, but I wanted to speak with you immediately.”

“Next time, my son, you may come to me personally. I would speak with you straight away without formalities if it is so urgent a matter.” Odin took a seat upon his throne. “Now then, why do you seek an audience with me, my son?”

Thor stood slowly, and his face wore a mask of regret and disgrace. “It is for a formal matter that I have come. Father...” The words seemed difficult for him to utter, as if we were forcing them, “I have come to relinquish my claim to Asgard’s throne. I am not fit to succeed you as king.”

So, is this Loki’s plan? Odin’s mouth tightened at his son’s statement. He spoke calmly, even though he felt quite the opposite. “You are entitled to abdicate succession. But I will not recognize it without sensible reason. Now tell me, my son, why are you unfit to succeed me as king of Asgard?”

“I have neither the wisdom nor intellect as befits a ruler, father. I would regret placing Asgard in danger due to my incompetence. My conscience would not allow me to continue posing as successor. Please allow me to step down, father.” Thor’s brow furrowed abashedly, and he kept his head bowed to avoid meeting his father’s gaze. His son’s shameful countenance bothered Odin greatly. The boy acts as if he’s already endangered the realm. What has happened to make Thor doubt himself this gravely?

“Well then,” Odin stood and descended the dais deliberately and approached Thor, “Indulge me, my son. In light of your confession, who would be more fit to rule, if not you?”

“You have another son, father. Custom dictates that succession would pass to him.”

Odin was beginning to lose his calm tone. He would not allow this folly to continue. Accusation and anger—not toward the son before him, but the absent one—began to bleed into his words. “And he is more fit than you, Thor? Not a month past you claimed Loki was ill—befallen with sickness, you said. Is he well now? Is his selfish heart fit to rule a kingdom when it has not been fit to rule even himself?”

Odin stopped barely a pace away from him, prickling with growing contempt toward Loki. Thor lowered his eyes meekly. But before his son could answer, another voice answered for him.

*********

“Am I really so unfit to rule Asgard, father?” Loki’s voice rang through the hall with cool confidence. He had assumed his full regalia—armor, helmet, cloak—in addition to L’Shale in his grip. He descended the wide staircase and approached his father and brother with a casual swagger that suggested his battle was all but won. “Are my skills so underappreciated? Am I so detestable that you would ignore the wishes of your beloved firstborn—your only true son?” Loki gestured toward Thor, and Thor flinched visibly at the attention. “You cannot avoid the inevitable, Odin. If Thor should abdicate, the position of heir falls to me.” He paused a few paces away and planted L’Shale firmly in conquest.

“You are correct, Loki,” Odin answered truthfully, “But I cannot recognize Thor’s abdication.”

“Why not? He spoke the words sincerely. It has been done.”

“I propose the same reasons Thor chose for your defense, my son. Thor is ill. It would be an injustice to judge the actions of another while they are afflicted by illness—” Odin leveled his gaze at Loki, “or while they are under duress.” It was obvious Odin was giving Loki a way out of the situation.

Loki considered backing down for the briefest moment, but L’Shale’s reckless energy called to him—it pulsed under the taut rope of control. The smile on Loki’s face faded to a grimace. “Your ill-disguised guidance is foolish. You’ll regret not confronting me sooner.” Loki tilted L’Shale forward at Odin.

Odin raised his own staff of office with a king’s authority, “I do not know what power has possessed you, but I ask you one last time to reverse whatever damages you have done or I will be forced to do it for you, boy.”

Loki only snarled in response and mentally eased L’Shale’s bindings. Although the high paled in comparison to L’Shale’s first exhilarating race through his mind, he bathed in the hot rush and let it fill him as much as the short leash he held would allow. L’Shale’s need to burn the world now became his own.

Loki tried to keep a steady hand on the rope in his mind that bound the spirit, but L’Shale now knew Loki’s weaknesses—he understood Loki’s thirst for power. Loki heard L’Shale call to him again. But this time there was a voice. Loki. L’Shale’s voice was a slow, smoldering flow of magma. The voice was in his mind, but the sound was deafening. Burn with me, Loki. Your heart is as mine—jealous, hateful, hungry. I have seen your mind. Use me. We will strike him down, Loki. Use me to claim your power. Let me in, Loki.

Loki stifled the urge to claw at his burning ears. He thought L’Shale had somehow spoken aloud, but Odin’s lack of reaction proved the spirit spoke only to him. He could feel L’Shale straining at his bonds, burning them to ash with every moment that ticked by. L’Shale would be free this time if Loki could not suppress him, and the only place the spirit could go was into Loki’s mind.

Loki’s thoughts deliberated quickly. L’Shale’s offerings of conquest were tempting, and Loki’s conviction was faltering. I can use him. His power is overwhelming, but If I let him help me, then together we can overthrow Odin—  Somehow practical reason chimed in. Fool! L’Shale is much too powerful for you to contain. If you allow him control, he might be able to destroy Odin...but what of yourself? Self-preservation above all. Curb your rage and end this struggle. You cannot allow L’Shale to control you. Do not give your power away so easily.

“No!” Loki spoke aloud in defiance of L’Shale’s goading. He was oblivious to his outward conversation with Odin who would have expected this to be an answer to his question. Loki’s voice cracked under the mental strain to hold L’Shale at bay, “I control you!” Loki grasped at the charring bonds fruitlessly. His strength was fading.

Loki... L’Shale’s smoky voice rumbled again like coals shifting in a forge. If you refuse to act, then I shall do it for you. L’Shale torched the last of his bonds and set Loki’s reality ablaze. Pain gripped him mentally and physically; his head felt like a screaming kettle ready to burst. He closed his eyes and pressed his free hand to one side of his head. “I will not be used! Not again!” Agony washed over him, and his knees began to buckle, but as before he was unable to release the staff from his grip.

Thor, seemingly forgotten in the midst of the confrontation, backed away several paces. The glamour still held him in paralyzing self-doubt, preventing him from acting as he normally would. If he’d been himself, subduing Loki would be an easy task. Now it seemed an unthinkable endeavour, a leap across a bottomless chasm.

Odin became aware that Loki must be under the staff’s influence and advanced toward him to knock it away. Loki’s eyes shot open and stared at Odin, blazing hot coals in their place. He pulled back from Odin instinctively, fluidly. L’Shale reached through Loki and used the staff’s glamour to blind Odin. L’Shale was in control of Loki, mind and body. With head held high he gave a growling chuckle of amusement. It was not Loki’s voice that left his lips, but a facsimile of L’Shale’s voice, “So you are indeed susceptible to the glamour. This will be too easy.” He levelled the staff at Odin, preparing to strike.

Odin paused his advance. He eyed his possessed son warily, but his gaze looked straight through him. “Who am I really dealing with here? You may have blinded me, but I can feel where you’ve touched my mind. I can feel your burning hatred. Let go of my son and reverse the damage you’ve wrought or face my wrath.” Odin struggled to throw off the illusion of darkness.

As soon as Loki realized L’Shale would break free, he fled to a safe place within his mind. His entire inner world burned, but he shut his consciousness away deep within it—a sanctuary surrounded by flames. He reached out for control of himself over and over, but met searing pain each time he tried. He continued unsuccessfully, but vowed patience would have to do for now even though failure meant eradication. L’Shale meant to take control of Loki’s being wholly and burn whatever was left of the previous owner.

Odin threw off the illusion and lunged toward Loki. When his hand gripped L’Shale, he winced, but held tightly. Angrily he cursed Loki’s selfishness, “So, you sought to control what Freyr had to lock away himself. You are power-hungry fool, Loki!” L’Shale sneered at Odin through Loki’s eyes. “Release my son, you hateful spirit!”

Loki could hear his father’s words, but it took all his concentration to attempt to regain control of himself. The walls of his mind burned even hotter. He could not bear the volcanic heat of L’Shale’s energy much longer—his soul would turn to ash.

“I said release him!” Odin’s staff emitted a blinding light that caused even L’Shale to shield his fiery eyes. L’Shale recoiled, and both king and spirit let go of the staff. A minute fluctuation in power occurred within Loki, the briefest of hesitations.

A fraction of a moment was all Loki needed to reassert control over his own body. L’Shale was powerful, but not infallible. Patience paid off for once. Before the staff could fall to the floor, Loki snatched it from the air, turned on the spot, and formed a gateway. Odin was still regaining his composure as Loki stepped through. The gateway collapsed behind him before Odin could follow.

Jul 26, 2012

Surrender, Chapter 5: Brothers

Loki walked the golden halls and extensive walkways of the palace for hours, seething with animosity at L’Shale and the spirit’s attempt to break free. He would use the staff again—of that there was no doubt—but he would not allow L’Shale free reign of his mind again. It was too dangerous. Or was it? Would he dare to let the spirit in and control L’Shale within his own mind? Could he not set his own mental traps to snare the willful spirit? Now that he’d experienced L’Shale’s potential, could he possess it for himself instead? Would he dare attempt to control such a chaotic energy? Was it a power struggle he could win? These were the possibilities that bubbled in his mind, and he wanted to settle them before continuing with his plan.

It was a very late, or very early, hour by the time Loki approached Thor's quarters. He now wore an icy cold, determined demeanor in place of the smiles and snarls he effected towards Thor's companions. He squeezed L’Shale in his right hand as if it were a neck to choke. I hold your reins, and you will obey me.

He rapped twice on the ornate golden door that designated Thor's living quarters and did not wait for an answer to enter. He pushed open the heavy gilded door, and found Thor staring into the burning hearth of the oversized fireplace that ran the length of the room's sitting area. Thor looked up at his brother's entrance, a reserved smile blooming on his face.

"Brother, I cannot say I've expected a visit from you, but I am happy you have come. I see my offerings of conversation have not fallen on deaf ears."

Loki could have quickly completed his task and moved on, but he decided to play for a while. He wanted to see the look on Thor’s face as he turned the fool's stubborn, rock-hard will to dust. Loki began in a most humble tone, "Thor—brother," the endearing word was a bitter taste, but he continued, “I would share my thoughts with you, if you would hear them.” I will simply tell him the truth. If he chooses to see it differently than I do, however, that is another matter.

Thor was interested, of course, but he also clung to caution. He knew his brother all too well. When he brought Loki home from Midgard a month ago, he assumed his brother had been driven mad or fallen ill. Loki's calm, collected speech was somewhat unsettling to him now that he knew what crimes his brother was capable of committing. Odin had declared Loki safe to walk the palace without a guard, but Odin’s trust or not, he would not take unnecessary chances with his brother. "Of course I would hear your thoughts, brother. I see you have a new staff..." Thor eyed the staff in his brother's hands.

"Oh, this? It was just a pretty gift; a shame it is not more useful.” Loki walked farther into the room thoughtfully, gesturing with L’Shale as he spoke as if it were a royal scepter. L’Shale was a tool, after all. It had its non-magical uses. “I’ve realized much in the last month. I know that I have made mistakes in the past, and I do not wish to repeat them.” Loki swung L'Shale across the top of his shoulders, and walked at a slow pace as he strode the length of the fireplace. Thor stepped back several paces to give him room. “I have scrutinized every decision, every action, and every word I’ve spoken since I was last in Asgard. And I am...” he paused, searching for the proper word, “unsatisfied. You were correct in your assessment of my mental faculties. I have been lost for quite some time.” He gave Thor a look that might have been rueful, but the emotion barely touched his eyes. “Fortunately, I have had a revelation regarding my place in this realm." He paused at the far end of the fireplace awaiting Thor’s cue to continue.

Thor looked a little confused, but nodded attentively, “So where is your place then?”

“Why, by your side, brother.” He circled Thor, speaking close to his ear as he walked behind him. “My strengths compliment your own. I am meant to guide you, Thor.” Loki’s voice was smooth velvet, but he knew his words alone—however sweet—would not sway Thor. They never did. Thor was a man of action.

Thor turned quickly to face Loki rather than leave his back to his devious brother. His eyes briefly flashed a look to Mjolnir’s stand in his bedchamber beyond where they stood. “I have always valued your counsel, and it has been only your recent transgressions that give me cause to doubt your wellness. If you have atoned for your crimes, I would welcome your advice once more.” Thor’s face softened with the admission, “I have always had faith in you, Loki, and I would never forsake you.”

“Atone?” Loki’s voice swelled as he weighed the term. “Well...I am sorry for what I did on Midgard...”

Loki felt Thor’s apprehension begin to fade at his “confession”, and he paused to relish the moment as he contemplated his foolish brother. This revenge will be sweet. Oh, so sweet...

“...sorry that I failed.” With a sneer Loki quickly swung the staff behind Thor’s head and seized it as if to choke him with it. Thor grasped Loki’s arms reflexively as surprise and anger crossed his face. So close to him now Loki could even see the twinge of disappointment in Thor’s face. Oh, so sweet indeed... Scorn filled Loki’s voice now, “You’re going to be the one to fall this time, brother.” Abruptly the staff burned his hands as if it were a hot poker, but he held it tightly through the scorching agony. His eyes burned with a sharp pain, interrupting his focus and causing him to drop his deceptive guise. Thor could now see his true appearance caused by L’Shale’s continued use. Loki’s skin was gray stone and his eyes were two fiery red coals. Thor bellowed wordlessly as he struggled against the mountainous strength that held him—L’Shale’s strength.
Thor must do my bidding. Events must proceed flawlessly if Odin is to believe him. Heed me, L’Shale!

Thor beckoned to Mjolnir, pressuring Loki to regain control of himself before the hammer reached Thor’s outstretched hand. If Thor held Mjolnir, Loki’s advantage would be lost. Loki closed his burning eyes and regained his concentration quickly. He focused on the energy L’Shale was releasing rather than letting it run wild—he needed to harness it. He envisioned a rope binding the staff and pulled at it tightly with all of his might. The burning sensations receded, and he was able to gain his composure and replace his deceptive veil. His grip on L’Shale did not budge.

Loki spoke levelly with absolute confidence, “You will listen to me and obey my commands to you.” The statement was as much for Thor as it was for L’Shale.

Thor’s hand closed around Mjolnir’s handle for a moment before it thudded to the floor instead. He ceased his resistance and removed his other hand slowly from Loki's arm. Thor’s eyes shone with admiration, and an eagerness to please, “Anything for you, brother."

Loki removed himself from Thor’s neck and stepped back a pace. “And stop calling me that,” he commented disgustedly. Loki breathed a sigh of relief as his eyes fell upon the stationary Mjolnir.

Thor considered Loki for a moment, then dropped his eyes. “I am sorry if I have offended you.”

“Of course you are,” Loki said flatly. “Listen quickly and listen well. You must go to Odin at morning’s first light to seek audience with him...” Loki explained the rest of Thor’s instructions without delay.

********

Odin’s morning walk through the palace gardens was interrupted by a servant bearing an audience request from Thor. He thought it a little formal, but Thor observed traditions out of respect, and he appreciated that. Thor had grown wiser and more patient, if but slightly, since Loki’s disappearance, but his apprehension had increased tenfold since Loki’s return. Thor was caught between a rock and hard place—support the brother he loved or punish a treacherous criminal? Odin understood the internal struggle intimately. It was the same questions he battled with in his own mind, but no one need know when a king contemplates indecision. Such hesitation can cause the downfall of a regime.

Thor’s defense regarding Loki’s judgment had not been unexpected. Thor, ever the righteous hero in his heart, had always been protective of his younger brother. At Loki’s judgment after the Midgard fiasco, Thor stood for Loki’s support when no one else would.

“Father, Loki is not well. A sickness has befallen him, and we must do what we can to support his recovery.”

“I do not discount your wishes, my son, but he must answer for his destructive actions.”

“Father, I beg of you to show mercy. He is your son—my brother. We are his family. Who else would be fit to guide him? He is not evil, only lost. And I will do everything in my power to aid him.”

“Very well. Perhaps my guidance—our guidance—will prove beneficial. Loki will remain in Asgard until he is of sound mind and repents his crimes against Midgard.”

A brother’s love saved Loki that day. Since then Thor had tried to entice his brother to speak or spend time with him, but met with little success. Their short conversations were one-sided, Loki rarely offering more than murmurs about feeling fine and wanting to be alone to think. Thor became frustrated after several attempts and came to Odin with his predicament. “There are some wounds only time can heal, Thor,” Odin had told him. “Perhaps, in time, another opportunity to help your brother will present itself. But for now, let him be.”

Now, though, Odin wondered what questions Thor might bring before him today. He left the tranquility of the gardens for the throne room and his firstborn’s audience.