Chapter Text
When you close your eyes you see universes of your own creation.
Flickers of red and purple galaxies drift behind your eyelids like a long forgotten poem you wrote when you were eight, hiding from the sound of your father’s footsteps.
The only light you can make out is that of dying stars.
When I close my eyes I see my mother in a red garden. She holds flowers of her own making and gives them to me freely.
I don’t think she knows the meaning of them.
Recently the only flowers she’s given me are lilies and chrysanthemum.
Death and rebirth into a tragedy so wrong it makes you angry, like the way quills snap over broken diaries (the ones I filled with my secrets, the ones you snapped in half and denied ever being true. your truth was never mine. the sun will never understand what it is to be a dying star) and how I use bowless arrows with my hands, ever the forced warrior, bloody and feral.
How fitting for a sinner.
It’s bright.
And loud.
Loki's breath catches inside his throat.
Panic rushes through him.
He doesn’t know where he is.
He falls to his knees, hacking and coughing. He inhales sharply, trying and failing to gather his wits about him.
His panicked mind thinks quickly, his thoughts run together.
Thornohelpmepleasepleasecan'tbreatheican't-
He claws at his throat.
Dimly, he can hear the clanking of silverware, dimly he hears laughter and glasses clinking together. Subconsciously, he knows he is not... where he... he is no longer... it is hard for him to recall, his mind seems to be blocking it out.
He shakes his head to rid himself of the thought, wondering in a quiet haze amidst his loud, panicked, more prominent train of thought, why he can't hear Thor screaming anymore.
That thought draws him back to his mission and he shoves his dagger forward blindly.
nothimneverhimhemusthewillstaysafepleasehesallihavehe's...
His dagger meets air.
He pauses.
He opens his eyes.
In front of him sits a large, long wooden table. A feast is laid out upon it. Merry warriors sit and laugh together. No one seems to have noticed him.
Golden sunlight streams though high glass ceilings. It creates patterns on the floor and the table. Gold swirls through the glass in a beautiful design that when the sun shines around them, it makes it look like the sunbeams are dancing.
In the far corner of the hall, a small group dressed in comfortable robes sit and play various instruments. They play a moderate, soothing song. Despite the chaos of the hall, it fits right in. It gives the room a comforting feeling.
Against a wall painted with bright colors, several children giggle and whisper among themselves. They hold a variety of things, from a small blanket, to a longsword, to several paintbrushes. Ah... Loki almost laughs in surprise and understanding when he puts it together. They are painting over the gold on the wall and replacing it with colorful, bright designs. Whoever is in charge of cleaning must despise them. A small smile graces Loki's lips. He thinks the paint on the wall is quite the improvement to the bland gold that covered everything before.
The sound of a plate shattering and the laughter and teasing that follows a moment later breaks Loki out of his stupor.
He shakes his head and looks around the bright hall, perplexed. How did I… he trails off and frowns. He stares at his reflection on the marble floor, trying -- and this time succeeding -- in recalling the last thing that happened to him.
Thanos.
He shudders when he remembers the feel of Thanos' fingers around his neck. He hesitates and then slowly reaches up to touch his neck.
A flash of pain makes him wince and drop his hand to his side.
Not a dream then.
He lets out a slow breath and looks around the room, trying to make sense of where in the nine he is.
He pushes away the most logical explanation, because there's no way he's dead.
There's no way he left Thor.
No one in the room pays him any attention. Though by the sound of high laughter and a low, rep-reminding tone, he can tell the children who were painting the walls have been discovered.
One woman draws his attention. She stands on a long wooden table at the end of the room near the tall, wooden doors. She has pitch black armor on. Her ears curl into a slight tip, visible because of the way her moon colored hair is pulled back. Her arms spread wide and her voice booms as she recounts her tale. "The dragon fell forward! I didn't know what I was going to do. Would I even be able to survive?"
She jumps backwards a few feet to demonstrate what happened. Her foot lands in someone's plate. It’s a prosthetic, he realizes after a moment. Made out of asgardian gold. The owner of the plate laughs and leans back, intent on watching the story. "I ran backwards as far as I could! I hugged the wall, my adrenaline coursed through me. I screamed in the dragons face! I cursed it and..."
Her voice fades out.
Loki tries to concentrate on something else. Anything else.
This is all... it is too surreal. He covers his ears, trying to block out the noise and make sense of everything. Am I really… dead?
He looks slowly around the hall. "This," he murmurs, "has to be some… clever illusion."
His eyes flit to the front of the hall and he inhales sharply. There is a fourth area. Of course. He must have missed it in his panic filled examination of the room. Of course Valhalla would need someone to rule it. Of course. Of course. He takes a small step forward. How could I be so dumb?
He examines the thrones, and their occupants, as he slowly walks towards them.
They are slightly taller than the rest of the room. There are three stairs you must climb to reach them. Guards stand on each side of the platform. The thrones look to be solid gold, but they also seem to have mithril and other precious things, such as starlight, floating through them, as if they weren’t solid. They are breathtaking. Each throne tells a tale, it suits the person it was made for exactly. Both thrones have small stories floating through them, like a hologram movie on repeat.
He moves at a brisk pace -- he is practically running -- to the front of the hall with only one thought on his mind.
His mother. She is... she sits upon a throne of sunlight and the sunbeams seem to dance around her. The room fills with warmth when she laughs at something someone says.
He slows to a stop when he reaches the starlit platform. His face holds no expression as he gazes up at the glowing form of someone he thought he would never see again. He was sure he would go to Helheim. Why is he not...? He looks at the ground. It is what he deserves.
There must have been a mistake.
Why would he be somewhere this warm and good? Somewhere with one of the only people in the nine he loves unconditionally.
Frigga laughs again at something Odin said. She does not notice him.
He says nothing, afraid he will break whatever spell has placed him here.
She leans closer to her husband, trying to speak through her laughter.
Loki takes a deep breath to calm his nerves, trying to figure out what to say, when the hall grows quiet. Too quiet.
The only sound is that of someone chewing, and a sharp smack moment later, officially gaining the attention of the two people on the thrones.
Frigga looks away from Odin, a small smile still on her lips, but concern in her eyes, and looks around the hall with a raised eyebrow. "What-"
She stops short when she sees what everybody is looking at.
Loki.
She rises to her feet, an unreadable expression on her face.
Loki takes a step back, suddenly not so sure this was a good idea. He should have walked through the doors at the end of the hall when he had a chance.
Frigga slowly walks down the steps and stops a few feet away from Loki. Her eyes search his. A soft gold light weaves around her fingers, a sign of her distress. Magicians of her age, who have been learning their whole lives, rarely lose control of their magic. It is one of the first thigns they learn. Uncontrolled magic is a sign of deep unrest in the heart.
Loki's eyes search her figure, trying to discern what could be going on. He begins to speak, he can not stand the silence. His words tumble out. He is only half aware of what he is saying.
His heart is desperate to spill its troubles to his mother. It has been too long.
Deep down he is frightened he is dreaming again, that he will awake to a dark room, chained to a wall with a figure standing over him and taunting him for thinking that it was real. That anyone would care enough to love him.
"you are not a child." they would snarl, sharp things in their hands and on their tongues. "the lie of love has long since been known to you. really it is your own fault for loving them. rid your heart of the petty emotions, they do not belong. you do not deserve them. lock them inside of you, or it will kill you. love is the worst emotion there is. you have experienced enough of it by now to know that is true."
"Mother, I'm sorry." His shaking hand covers his mouth and he takes a deep breath, trying to stop his tears.
"tears?" the voice would screech. "why do you weep? why are you weak? WHY ARE YOU WEAK LAUFEY'S SON? TAKE THE scepter you will TAKE-"
"It's all my fault." His nails bite into his palms.
He cannot tell which one is real.
The one he remembered -- is happening -- or the one with his mother. He needs the voices to stop he cannot concentrate he cannot think, if he doesn't think quick enough he will die, he doesn't want to die yet. Not when that would mean Thor would be alone.
"you're the one that killed them." the voice would croon, oblivious to his pleas and heartbroken sobs. "this is your punishment. and you deserve it don't you?'
It took six days.
"Yes." He whispered, "It is my punishment, because I failed to save them. I can never save them."
the voice laughed. it was pleased. loki could not bring himself to care.
"I am so, so sorry. I failed you. I couldn't save them. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Amma, I'm so, so sorry."
Frigga slowly reaches a hand out and cups Loki's cheek. "My son...?" She says slowly.
Loki holds his mother's hand and nods his head, not able to talk through the knot in his throat.
Frigga shakes her head. "You're... you're not supposed to be here." She glances back at Odin, who seems horrified. "You-you're barely of age! You can't be here yet! You have barely lived."
Tears stream unchecked down Frigga's cheeks. "Oh, my sweet boy."
Odin comes to stand beside Frigga. He rests his hand on Loki's shoulder. "My son, who did this to you?"
Loki inhales sharply, stunned. This was not the reaction he expected. He opens his mouth to speak but nothing comes out.
Frigga rubs his cheek with her thumb soothingly. "It's alright, Loki. Take your time."
Loki's jaw quivers. He clenches his teeth and grounds out the horrid word as quickly as he can, trying not to wince at the memories that came with it. "Thanos."
Odin eyes scan Loki carefully, he believes his son, but it was well known throughout Asgard that Bor killed Thanos. "I thought my father killed him."
Frigga looks at Odin, her hand still holding onto her son like he's her lifeline. "You should know better than anyone that titans are not so easily killed."
Loki tries desperately to wipe his tears away. Now is not a time to be crying! I am a prince, for norns sake.
Frigga pulls Loki into a hug, seeing his distress. "My sweet baby boy..."
She looks at Odin, still hugging Loki. "Odin, you know better than I what this means."
Odin's jaw clenches. "That would mean we would lose him."
Frigga looks at Odin imploringly. "I know the consequences, husband. But you know as well as I that he can not handle this." She laughs hysterically, hugging Loki tighter. "Grown warriors can not handle this! Our boy is strong, but not this strong. Staying here will only remind him of what he has lost, and sending him back to Thor to participate in another war will do nothing more than injure him further."
Odin sighs, looking weary. "My wife... I can not lose another child."
Frigga looks at him incredulously. "You think this is easy for me? That I do not feel your pain nor bear my own?" She shakes her head, trying to find something to say that would make her oaf of a husband understand. "Children don't get a say in whether or not they are born, we make that choice. Our job is to love and care for them and make them glad that they were born. They should love the world they live in, not hate it! That means we do what's best for them." She sighs, looking at her son's weary form. "Even if it kills us to do so."
Odin presses a kiss to Frigga's head. "Very well, my wife. I will go ready the spell."
He walks out of the great hall, looking weary.
Frigga pulls Loki out of the hug so she can look him in the eyes. "Loki, I know your father and I haven't done the best we could at raising you, and I apologize for that. Just know that we love you. No matter what happens."
Loki yawns, trying to stay awake. "Amma?" He asks softly, not sure what's going on.
"You will still have flashes of memory, my son. And when you are ready, you will remember everything." She presses a kiss to his temple. Golden light dances around Loki's head. "This will help heal you." She looks at himself sadly as her seidr slowly disappears. Her spell is now ready to activate whenever she wishes. "I'm sorry."
She grabs his hand and leads him out of the room, looking back every few minutes as if to assure herself that he was there. Loki plods along after her tiredly. He wants to sleep and not wake up for a long while.
She leads him into a strange room with markings all along the wall.
The room looks old. A strange, ancient power radiates through it. One that makes Loki shiver. The magic in it is different than what he is used to. It feels strange. Otherworldly even.
Loki squints at the markings, trying to make sense of them. But even with all-speak, he can't understand a thing.
"What's going on?" He asks, looking around the room again.
Frigga and Odin stand before Loki.
Odin sighs, leaning wearily against his staff. "My son, I am doing the only thing I can think of in the nine realms to help you."
Frigga places her hand on top of Odin's. "There is only one race of people that will treasure you and show you love like you deserve. We are sending you there, in hopes that you can heal and have the childhood you always deserved. We love you, Loki."
Loki shakes his head numbly, trying to make sense of what's going on. "I don't understand."
"We are sending you to a place not even the mad titan knows about. You will be safe there, and while the threat is being vanquished, you can rest and heal. You will be treasured and loved there, Loki. Have no fear."
"Amma, I don't... I want to stay with you!"
Frigga runs her hands soothingly through Loki's hair. "I know, I know. And you will see me again. But for now, me and your father need to do what's best for you."
"I'm not a-"
"Loki," Odin cuts in, having seen this reaction enough times to know what is coming next, "as you know—just like any spell—there are a few side effects. Especially with sending you to a realm like Arda. First, you will become of their race, both so you can survive the journey there without harm, and because they are the race closest to our," he seems to stumble over his words, "your own."
Frigga nods. "And another thing, they age a bit differently, so you could end up being a child. Most likely you will remain the age you are now, but I am not sure."
Loki makes a small sound sounding suspiciously like a squeak.
Odin continues like he didn't hear that, "Another side effect is that you might not remember much. Or anything, really."
Frigga elbows Odin and he sighs, "Alright, that's just a spell your mother and I added to help you heal from your trauma."
Loki crosses his arms, looking cross. "I do not have a trauma, and messing with someone's memories is a crime subject to the death penalty, father."
Odin whispers something to Frigga and she sighs. "Loki, please just listen."
"It's a law you instituted, father." He points out.
Odin gracefully ignores him. "If you do change into a child," at Loki's indignant noise Odin amends his statement, "I'm not saying you will, it is just a possibility. But if you do, you will not be able to handle everything that has happened to you. You'll go mad. As such, we took a necessary precaution and put this spell in place."
Loki can't do much more than roll his eyes, astounded at everything that's happening. "I will be able to come back, right?"
Frigga nods firmly. "Oh, of course. Whenever the titan has been killed, we will send a messenger. If you wish to come back, we will welcome you with open arms."
Loki nods, slightly satisfied. "Alright then. I agree." He raises his index finger. "But only as long as you contact me as soon as the threat is eradicated."
"It's a promise, my boy."
Loki nods.
For some reason, he believed him.