Chapter 22
“You are not wearing that.”
“And what do you suppose I should wear?”
“Anything but that, obviously,” Loki started sorting through the clothes in the closet, grabbing what looked like maybe a suit, “Here, try this.”
“I'm not wearing that.”
“Well, you need to wear something traditional.”
“How am I supposed to know what to wear? I’m no Jotun!”
“Ask Helblindi then!”
“I will!” Thor huffed, and left the room.
Loki could hear Thor knocking on the door and telling Helblindi about their predicament.
He sounded tired as he answered Thor’s question.
“It’s a celebration,” he sighed, “You can wear whatever makes you comfortable.”
“I love Jotunheim,” Thor beamed, standing outside the door to the dining hall.
Before leaving for the celebration, he had changed from the formal Asgardian attire to a pair of jeans and an old sweatshirt.
It was all Loki could do not to groan out loud. He settled for a disdainful frown.
“Come on, Brother,” Thor said, clapping him on the back, “It’s a celebration! You are meant to have fun!”
“Let’s just get this over with,” Loki sighed.
Thor pushed open the door and strode in.
Immediately, the smell of cooked meat overwhelmed Loki, and a wave of nausea washed over him.
Oh, of course he would be averse to the smell of meat right now. Why not?
To his dismay, he expected most of what was offered at the table to be just that. Fruits and vegetables were not likely a common occurrence in a realm as cold and desolate as Jotunheim.
Loki trailed behind him, warily scanning the room for hostile faces.
Unsurprisingly, there were quite a few.
Thor, as usual, took no notice. He sat at the table, taking no time to dig into whatever was offered as soon as the go-ahead was given.
Loki stayed where he stood, wondering how bad it would appear if he told his aunt he felt sick and went back to his room.
Before he could, though, a frost giant, much taller than himself, wrapped him in a big bear hug.
“Nice to finally meet ya, Cuz!” he exclaimed, squeezing him tight, “I’m Byleistr!”
“Good to meet you, too,” Loki squeaked, at a loss for air.
Byleistr let him go, stepping back with a blinding smile.
Another cousin?
“Mother’s told me all about you,” Byleistr continued, “A Prince of Asgard!”
“Uh, former Prince of Asgard,” Loki corrected quietly.
“Oh, yeah, sorry,” Byleistr amended, then winked, “Loki, Prince of Jotunheim, now, I suppose.”
“Just Loki.”
“Alright, Just Loki,” Byleistr said, “Come sit with us.”
Loki glanced uncertainly at Thor, but let Byleistr lead him to a spot in a separate corner of the hall, where Helblindi and several other Jotuns were sitting in a cluster talking.
The conversation stayed surprisingly mundane throughout the night. Lots of talk about the state of the realm, questions about what it was like in Asgard and Midgard. Helblindi seemed especially fascinated with the different traditions and culture of the separate realms, asking Loki lots of in-depth questions.
Byleistr had seemed at the beginning of the night to welcome Loki as his cousin, but as time wore on, and Byleistr drank more, his mood soured and Loki started to see some of the resentment towards Asgard he had been fearing.
Loki tried to maneuver his way around it to keep some semblance of diplomacy.
However hard he tried, though, it still made for somewhat of an awkward situation.
The more Byleistr spoke, the more Helblindi started sending worried, apologetic glances at Loki.
By the time Helblindi politely asked him to get some sort of drink from a different table, clearly uncomfortable, he was glad for the opportunity to get up and leave for a bit.
That is, until Byleistr got up and followed him.
“You were brought up to believe we were the monsters, yes?” He asked, speaking over his shoulder.
All the blood drained from Loki’s face.
He tried to ignore him, took the drink and tried to leave, but Byleistr blocked his path.
“How does it feel to be a monster, Loki? Because that’s what you are, but not because you’re Jotun. You killed hundreds of us. Still believe that we’re the monsters, do you?”
Loki couldn’t speak, frozen to the spot. He just stared.
“I know you do,” Byleistr sneered, and grabbed his hand, “You can’t even show your true self; you’re so ashamed to be one of us.”
Loki tried to pull his hand away, but Byleistr’s grip stayed firm as the blue bled up his arm.
Somewhere across the hall, Thor got up to defend him.
“Hey!”
Before he could reach them, Byleistr let go, and Loki went tumbling into the drink table. It toppled over, all sorts of wine, beer, and mead spilling to the ground, the sound of shattering glass coming with it.
Byleistr laughed as Loki sat against the table, stunned.
The room went silent for a moment before laughter filled the room.
Thor looked ready to kill, about to attack Byleistr, but Rey beat him to it.
“Byleistr!” Rey’s sharp tone cut through the uproar.
Byleistr turned in time for the queen to grab him by the ear. He cried out in pain, but Rey took no notice.
“You will apologize,” she hissed, “I did not raise a bully.”
She let go and glared expectantly at him, but he glared back, just as stubborn.
“I don’t need to apologize to a murderer,” he sneered, before storming out of the hall.
“Are you alright, Brother?” Thor asked, instantly by his side.
“Yeah, I’m fine.”
“I’m so sorry,” Rey said, helping Loki get up as the celebration resumed around them.
“It’s . . . it’s alright,” Loki muttered, and sighed, “May, may I go back to my room?”
“Of course, Dear,” Rey answered, “Thor, maybe you should stay for another night.”
“No,” Loki shook his head, “No, I’ll be fine here. Thor, you have to go back to the Avengers.”
“But Loki—“
“No,” Loki stopped him, “I have to make amends, this is part of it.”
He deserved it.
Thor gave him a troubled look, but nodded.
“Let’s go get your stuff,” Loki sighed, and turned to the Queen, “I’ll see you tomorrow morning, Rey.”
After Thor left, Loki hadn’t expected to talk to anyone the rest of the night, so when he heard a knock on his door, he just wanted to ignore it.
The knocking persisted, though, so he got up and opened the door.
Helblindi?
“H-hey, Loki,” he said, “I—Can I talk to you?”
Loki gestured to let him in, and Helblindi sat down on his bed.
“I just wanted to tell you I’m sorry, about my brother,,” Helblindi started, “Byleistr . . . he can be a jerk sometimes.”
“He wasn’t wrong,” Loki admitted.
He’d tried to destroy Jotunheim. Byleistr’s anger was justified.
“Our father died in the attack,” Helblindi said, staring at his feet, “The first one, when Thor took a group to speak with Laufey.
“He hates Asgardians because of it,” Helblindi looked up at Loki, “He wants revenge.”
“And you don’t?”
“Chasing after revenge is like creating a snake that eats its own tail,” Helblindi answered, “An endless cycle of anger and death. If peace can be achieved, why bother with revenge?”
“I’m sor—“ Loki started to apologize, but Helblindi cut him off.
“Don’t think I’ve forgiven you,” he snapped.
Loki flinched.
Helblindi’s glare remained for a moment longer, before his expression softened again, “I don’t know if I can ever forgive you as easily as Mother has, but know this. As long as you stand in Jotunheim, as an ally, no harm will come to you. Only a heartless beast would kill an innocent child.”
“How—?“
“Please,” Helblindi scoffed, “After bearing two children myself, it’s not difficult to recognize the signs.”
“You, you have?”
Helblindi nodded, “And I’m assuming this is your first, then?”
Well, not exactly, but Loki nodded nonetheless.
Only a heartless beast would kill an innocent child.
Maybe he was heartless, but what kind of life would a descendent of the God of Chaos have?
A lifetime being judged for something they had no control over.
But a life, nonetheless. A chance.
He had allies now, friends. Perhaps even the beginnings of a family.
No. He couldn’t allow such fantasies.
However . . .
“I need to get back to Midgard as soon as possible,” Loki said, letting Helblindi put the pieces together himself.
Helblindi hummed, a knowing expression on his face, “You wish to return before the baby is born.”
“As soon as possible,” Loki repeated, nodding.
Not exactly a lie. A little half-truth. He did wish to return as soon as possible, just not for the sake of the baby.
A minimal use of manipulation, and yet it made Loki’s stomach churn.
“I will speak with Mom,” Helblindi said finally, standing up to leave, “We’ll see what we can do.”
“Thank you.”
Left the first night alone in an unfamiliar realm, Loki wasn’t surprised to find that sleep didn’t come to him, even after Helblindi had left.
He picked up his phone.
He clicked on Bucky’s name, and stared at the screen.
He really shouldn’t be bothering him at this hour, but didn’t he say he could text him anytime?
When he’d told him about the trip to Jotunheim (no, Bucky had no idea what that meant, but he didn’t question it, either), he’d insisted that Loki should try to keep in contact as much as possible, if possible.
It probably wouldn’t work in a different realm, but it was worth a try, he supposed.
“I miss you,” Loki typed into the box, thought for a moment, and deleted it with a grimace.
“Hey, still awake?” he typed instead, and clicked send.
A notification popped up on the phone: message send failure.
“Nevermind,” he spoke out loud, to no one.
With a sigh, he rolled out of bed and took out one of the letters he had brought for the journey.
As with the first letter, willow leaves were attached to the bottom of the letter.
Loki recognized the old blue wallpaper on the walls of Thor’s room immediately.
It looked more like a nursery now, with a crib and stuffed animals everywhere.
Huh.
Bilgy, Thor’s stuffed bilgesnipe, really hadn’t aged a day.
“Frigga,” a vaguely familiar voice spoke.
A woman, presumably the one who’d spoken, approached her. Across her chest, she held a baby in a sling of soft cloth. Her eyes were a warm reddish-orange, and her skin a complimenting blue.
A face he’d seen before.
Frigga embraced the Jotun in a tight hug, “Farbauti!”
The name was spoken with such an intense warmth that Loki startled, nearly breaking the memory spell.
How well had his mother gotten to know Frigga, to be greeted so eagerly? As a Jotun, no less?
“How’s the baby?” Farbauti asked, hands brushing over Frigga’s stomach.
Frigga gave a sort of tired sound between a laugh and a huff.
“Strong,” she said, “Kicking the heck out of my kidneys.”
Farbauti nodded sympathetically as Frigga shifted her attention to the baby in Farbauti’s arms.
“Oh,” Frigga whispered in awe, her voice becoming soft and worried, “He’s so small.”
“Yes,” Farbauti answered, gazing down at him, “Laufey fears that he may not make it.”
“I’m so sorry,” Frigga whispered.
“He will not die,” Farbauti nearly hissed, before her voice softened, “I couldn’t bear it if he did.”
She plastered on a smile, “Besides, if he was to die, who would play with your baby during our visits?”
Frigga laughed, “There would be others.”
“Oh, really?” Farbauti asked, a mischievous expression on her face, “How so? I’m not having any more children. And don’t go telling me that Rey would. She hasn’t even gotten a boyfriend yet.”
“Maybe I would," Frigga shrugged.
“You want two?” Farbauti gawked, “I can’t even keep up with one!”
Frigga smiled sadly, again looking at the tiny baby.
Farbauti fell silent, too, the smile on her face becoming somber.
Frigga sighed, pulling Farbauti into a comforting side-hug. They stayed like that for a while, drawing strength from each others’ presence.
“You know,” Farbauti said, brightening with noticeable effort, “If we’re lucky, they’ll be best friends.”
Frigga nodded, agreeing, “Almost like brothers.”
“Assuming you’re having a boy.”
“It’s a boy,” Frigga said, voice matter-of-fact.
“Have you thought of any names yet?”
“Thor.”
“Thor,” Farbauti tested the name on her tongue, turning to gaze at Frigga, “An excellent name, Love.”
Love.
The word had been enough to break Loki away from the rest of the memory completely. It repeated, again and again in his head, mocking him.
Love.
He hated love. Hated that he couldn’t have it, not in the way everyone else seemed to. It had failed him at every turn, every attempt he made.
Even a Frost Giant could love, it would seem.
So it really was just him.
He took it at every chance given him, but couldn’t seem to quite give it right. He “loved” a lot of things, but had never loved anything or anyone in a way that he would ever call them “Love.” He’d never been called “Love.”
People had loved him before. Had tried to make him love them back, and a few times, he might’ve believed he did love them back, but when it came down to it, he just . . . didn’t.
He felt sorry for them, but what could he do?
Steve and Bucky came to mind immediately, and guilt flashed through him.
He would give the world for them, so why didn’t he love them like he should? And if he didn’t truly love them, then why was he still hesitating to reunite them?
Why couldn’t he let go of the idea that maybe, just maybe, he could be enough for them?
He shook his head with a half-hearted laugh.
He should’ve been more shocked to find that Frigga had come to love a Jotun, but if he were to be completely honest, he really didn’t care. As powerful as Odin was, Loki knew that their marriage was arranged.
In fact, the thought that Frigga had met a true love, and that that true love had been so closely entwined in his life warmed his heart.
So what happened?
With Jotunheim and Asgard on good terms, why had a war started so soon afterward?
If what Rey had claimed was true, Odin had killed Farbauti.
Now, Loki supposed he knew why Odin had done it.
Frigga found love with one other than himself, and somehow, Odin must’ve found out.
But then why keep him alive?
Only a heartless beast would kill an innocent child.
Helblindi’s words came back to haunt him.
Loki laughed bitterly.
Odin let him live; how merciful.
Loki waited two days for Helblindi and Rey to decide what to do with him.
In the meantime, he was given jobs suitable for his condition.
Suitable, meaning only using minimal effort and magic.
Honestly, that in and of itself could’ve been a punishment for Loki, so painfully boring as it was.
“We’ll give it another week,” Rey said decisively, “Just long enough for them to believe you’ve helped substantially.”
She made him swear to visit sometime after the baby was born, but now that he’d returned the Casket of Winters with Thor, it was no longer a dying realm, and his help no longer a dire need.
When they took Loki back to Midgard, Thor had been (understandably) surprised, but delighted nonetheless.
Loki returned to his position alongside the Avengers, rather quickly re-establishing the routine that they had had before.
Thor, though, left the Avengers Tower not long after he returned to live with Jane.
He visited often, but it wasn’t really the same.
She made him happy; that much was obvious, and Loki wanted to be happy for him.
More often than not, though, he found himself annoyed at the constant gushing that Thor spewed whenever he was around him.
He started asking Loki to visit in his (many, many) texts, but he declined politely each time.
However, Thor kept pestering him.
“Brother, I really must tell you something.”
Well, at least he’d finally stopped typing in all caps.
“So come over, then.”
“It’s important, Loki.”
Huh. Thor didn’t usually use punctuation in his texts.
“What is it, then?”
“I must tell you in person,” Thor answered, “It will change everything.”
“Fine, I will ask if Steve and Natasha can go with me tomorrow.”