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He wasn’t looking for trouble. He wasn’t looking for anything in particular, really, just poking around in one of the many, many palace storerooms that sat forgotten if not abandoned. For the most part there was nothing interesting in them. Every so often, though, Loki found something that was - an ancient manuscript, a miniature dragon’s skeleton, a strange black orb that could throw an entire room into darkness blacker than the Void.
(That one...made Loki a little nervous. But he kept it squirreled away on his shelf anyway, and nerves hadn’t stopped him from using it to terrify Thor. He’d deserved it. Leaving Loki behind, again, without so much as asking. Ass.)
He couldn’t say what about the mirror caught his eye - it was broken, after all, a few shards of silvered glass lying on the floor that crunched under Loki’s heel. He crouched down in front of it, studying the slender silver frame - remarkably simple.
Realizing abruptly what it was that he’d noticed, Loki’s eyes widened.
The glass didn’t reflect his face. There was no answering gleam in the mirror of the witchlight hovering over his shoulder. The broken pieces stayed dark and gleaming. Loki pulled a piece of glass away and turned it over; the back was the same.
“Why make a mirror that reflects nothing?” Loki asked it, frowning. He flexed his fingers and stepped back, concentrating.
The shards on the floor flew back into the frame, the cracks fusing together. When he finished, there were still a few pieces missing, but it was almost whole. Nothing appeared in the glass, however - it remained dark, though he thought he could almost see the darkness moving. Loki pursed his lips and reached out to run his finger over the glass. Maybe it was because it was incomplete? If he could find the missing pieces…
He nicked his finger on a sharp edge of the glass and hissed, jerking his hand back. Looking from the blood welling up on his fingertip to the opaque surface of the mirror, Loki chewed the inside of his cheek and then smeared blood on the glass.
For a moment nothing happened, and Loki exhaled in disappointment.
Then the streak of blood sank into the mirror and disappeared.
Loki jerked back. A thousand warnings cut across his mind: blood magic is unpredictable, dangerous, carries a high price. But he hadn’t done anything. Still, he stood up quickly and took a step back, wringing his hands and staring nervously at the mirror. It didn’t do anything, though, except that the faint trace of movement he’d thought he’d seen was gone.
“Well,” said a quiet voice behind him. “And who are you?”
Loki spun around, magic surging to his hands, but there was no one there. Or - no. Not no one. But not someone, either. It was like wisps of smoke that almost formed the outline of a person - not solid enough to even be called a shadow. Loki took a step back.
“Who - what are you?”
“I do not know,” it said. Its voice was high, strangely musical, and sent shivers down Loki’s spine. “I was caged. And now I am free.”
Loki glanced at the mirror. “In that?” He asked, curious in spite of himself.
“Yes,” it said after a moment. “I suppose so.” Loki had the impression he was being scrutinized, though he could see no eyes. “Will you tell me your name?”
“I am-” Loki remembered, in time, that it was unwise to give one’s name to unfamiliar magical creatures. Names had power, and some beings could use it for ill ends. “Loptr,” he said, after a moment, and chose to leave off prince of Asgard as well.
“No,” it said after a moment. “That is not your name.”
Loki flinched, then blinked. “How should you know?” He said. “You do not even know your own, and you would call me a liar?”
“Yes,” it said. “That is a name for you. Liar.”
Loki’s eyes widened and this time he did summon his magic. “Begone,” he snapped. “You are not welcome here, spirit.” He sketched the rune of banishing in the air, and flicked his hand to trigger it. The apparition dispersed like dust before a strong wind.
Loki stared at the air where it had been, his stomach churning. That is a name for you.
It was nothing anyone had ever said in his hearing. But he wondered, sometimes, if silvertongue was an epithet that masked something less fair-sounding.
He shook himself. The thing had been a ghost from a mirror, not an oracle. Hardly worth the effort it had taken to banish it.
Still, the chill lingered, and he left the room perhaps a little hastily.
Loki went back to his room, feeling oddly drained, and found Thor waiting for him by the door and scowling at it. He checked his stride for a moment, exhaled, and walked over to him.
“Did you try to open it?” He asked. Thor turned to look at him, holding out his reddened palm.
“It burned me. When did you set wards on your door?”
“After the fourth time you interrupted me in the middle of delicate work,” Loki said, unapologetic, but he reached for Thor’s hand, working a simple spell that sank into his skin, the red fading away. “What did you want?”
“Not me,” Thor said. “Father. He asked for us both.”
Loki blinked, anxiety bubbling in his stomach. “Did he say why?”
“No,” Thor said, and scrutinized his face. “Did you do something?”
Loki stiffened. “Do something? What makes you think I did something?”
Thor put up his hands hastily. “I was just asking!”
“If it were about me,” Loki said, annoyed, “why summon both of us?” Though he did wonder. Had their father sensed what had happened with the mirror? It seemed unlikely that he would have, and the room he’d found it in wasn’t technically forbidden, but...
“Perhaps he is going to send us to look into the disturbance in the southeast,” Thor said, sounding hopeful. “Apparently there is some sort of monster ravaging farms.”
“He won’t,” Loki said. “We’re too young.” Thor scowled, as though he resented the reminder, and Loki rolled his shoulders back. “We should go. I don’t want to be late.”
Thor’s eyes widened a little. “You’re right,” he said. “If we’re in trouble, I’m telling him it was your fault. Where were you, anyway?”
“About,” Loki said vaguely. Thor looked like he wanted to roll his eyes, but just reached out and shoved Loki instead.
“Skulking in the library seeking new tricks?” He said with a laugh. Loki pushed away the anger that prickled between his shoulder blades and summoned a smile he hoped looked mysterious.
“Something like that.”
The door to their father’s study was open. Thor went in without knocking, and Loki trailed after. Odin looked at him briefly, his single eye piercing, before turning his gaze on Thor. Loki shifted, but stayed quiet.
“You told me to find Loki - I found him. So what is it you want to tell us?”
“You’re old enough now,” their father said at length, “to take on some new responsibilities.”
Oh. Loki relaxed. So he was not in trouble, and this was not to be a lecture. He straightened, a little, trying not to smile. Thor straightened as well, less successful at hiding his pleasure. “We’re honored, father,” he said, and if Loki felt a twinge of resentment at being spoken for, he tucked it away. “What would you have us do?”
Their father stood slowly. “It is time you began to learn what it is to rule,” he said. “The responsibilities of kingship. From now on, you will spend your afternoons with me, observing council meetings.”
Thor deflated. Loki stifled his laugh: he’d still been hoping to be sent out to slay a monster. This, Loki thought, was much better. This was trust, not just of their skills but that they would not embarrass the All-Father or Asgard. It meant learning not just the theory of politics but its practice.
Loki could see Thor on the point of trying to protest, and cut in quickly. “Thank you,” he said. “We look forward to learning--”
“I was speaking to Thor,” Odin said calmly, and Loki was brought up short like he’d just run into a door suddenly closed in front of him.
“What?” He said, stupidly.
“What?” Thor said, sounding equally surprised, and looked at Loki in confusion. “Why? Why doesn’t Loki have to go?”
“Loki will be spending his time with Halvar,” their father said. Loki felt like he’d been punched in the stomach. The treasurer. Thor was to be privy to their father’s highest councils, and he was to spend his days counting coins?
Thor’s eyebrows knitted together. “With Halvar? But-”
“Thor,” their father said, and though it was mild even Thor heard the warning in it and shut his mouth. “I have made my decision.”
Why, Loki wanted to demand, like Thor. He bit his tongue, though there was a pit that had opened in his stomach. And humiliation burning in his cheeks, for assuming as much as he had. Don’t you know your place by now?
He lowered his eyes. “I am grateful for this opportunity, Father,” he said, words carefully measured. “I will do my best not to disappoint you.”
He felt Thor glance at him, and then back at their father. “I am...also grateful,” he said, but the words were stiff. There was a tightness in Loki’s chest and he bit the inside of his cheek so he didn’t start fidgeting with his hands.
“May I go?” He asked, keeping his voice even. “I was in the middle of - a project. It shouldn’t be left unattended too long.” It was a weak lie, and he was sure for a moment that Odin would call him on it, but he just nodded.
“Go on,” he said. “We will speak more later.”
Loki bowed his head and left the room with as much dignity as he could manage, keeping his head high as he turned back toward his rooms. His lungs felt too tight. Don’t be an idiot, he thought viciously. This is - it’s an honor. He’s giving you more responsibility. It doesn’t matter what the responsibility is. You’re younger than Thor, it only makes sense--
But he was the one who applied himself to his studies more. He was the one who did better in their classes on politics and history and comportment.
He was secondborn. He wasn’t Thor.
“Loki!”
He stopped, inhaling through his nose and keeping his fists from clenching at his sides, but he didn’t turn.
“Loki,” Thor said, coming around in front of him. “I tried to tell him-”
“You shouldn’t have bothered,” Loki said. “You know as well as I do that father doesn’t change his mind.”
“I don’t understand,” Thor said, shaking his head. Loki shrugged.
“I suppose he thinks it is where we need to be.”
“Yes, but…” Thor trailed off, and shook his head with a forced laugh. “I don’t know why you’d be upset. At least Halvar is young. I’m to be stuck listening to a flock of gossiping greybeards.”
Loki felt a flash of anger and stifled it. He forced a smile. “Mind you don’t fall asleep.”
“Without you there to prod me awake, I just might,” Thor said. Loki looked away from him, and Thor reached out to grip his shoulder. “Let’s go riding. I’ll find Fandral and Sif and the others-”
“No, thank you,” Loki said, pulling away. “I’d rather...skulk about in the library.” His smile felt more and more forced. “Go on,” he said, when Thor’s eyebrows pulled together. “Enjoy yourself. You’re soon to lose your freedom, after all.”
“If you’re certain,” Thor said, after a long pause.
“Of course I am,” Loki said. “Stop worrying.”
Thor squeezed his shoulder. “Tomorrow,” he said. “I will drag you out into the sun. You are beginning to look positively ghostly.”
Loki watched him walk away, waiting until he was out of sight to let the smile fall away. He wove a spell around himself that would keep him unnoticed the rest of the way back to his room, and sank down into his favorite chair, resting his head in his hands.
It was fine, he told himself. Fine.
“He loves you less,” said a voice, and Loki’s head snapped up. He looked around wildly.
“Who’s there?”
“He looks at you and sees the lesser son,” said the same voice, and Loki lurched to his feet, calling on his magic and scanning wildly back and forth. “He doesn’t trust you. Thor shines in his eyes, but you...you are a shadow.”
Loki found it, finally. It stood in a corner, little more than a vague outline, a shimmer in the air. He straightened up, jaw tightening. “You,” he said. “I banished you-”
“You thought you had,” it said. “But I didn’t go far.”
Loki raised a hand to sketch the banishing sigil again.
“Don’t you wonder,” it said, “why he loves you less?”
“He doesn’t,” Loki said angrily. “Thor is older. That’s all-”
“Is it?”
“You’re a ghost - a demon,” Loki said. “What do you know of love?”
“I see more clearly than you do, a child chasing your father’s approval. You’ll never have it. You may as well give up.”
Loki’s hands clenched into fists and he wrote the sigil in quick, jerking gestures, triggering it. The figure wavered, but did not vanish.
“Pathetic,” it said. Loki licked his lips and tried again, but it was gone before he even finished the spell. Like it had never been there. Loki took several heaving, deep breaths. He could feel himself shaking and bit down hard on his lower lip.
He wasn’t going to cry. He wasn’t a child and he wouldn’t act like one. A child chasing your father’s approval.
Loki dug his fingernails into his palms and bent his head forward, fighting for control as hard as he could.
Tomorrow...tomorrow he’d go see if he could find information about how to banish malevolent spirits. He’d start work with Halvar and he’d do it well, prove that he could be trusted, that he was responsible, that he could be useful. It was - disappointing, of course, but it wasn’t...it didn’t mean anything.
Didn’t mean…
He loves you less. Thor shines in his eyes, but you are a shadow.
Loki shoved the words away. It was the shadow, not him.
It didn’t leave him alone.
It came back again when he was studying in the library, poring over tome after tome of Asgard’s history. The more he knew, after all, the more valuable he could be to Asgard. And yet as he focused on memorizing the law codes implemented by Buri the Undefeated, he felt it like a shadow falling over him.
“Why are you bothering with this? It won’t change anything.”
Loki hunched his shoulders. Perhaps if he simply ignored it. He needed to look up stronger banishing spells. Something more permanent. Spells of destruction, even.
“It doesn’t matter how much you know, little liar.” Its voice had changed; it sounded deeper, less musical. “It isn’t what you know. It’s what you are.”
Don’t call me a liar, Loki wanted to say, but he bit his tongue and tried to focus on the page. In the third year of his reign-
“And you know what you are, don’t you?” It sounded closer. Goosebumps rose on the back of Loki’s neck but he refused to turn and look. “Lesser. Inferior. Unworthy.”
Loki’s stomach clenched along with his teeth. He closed the book and made himself stand to take it back to the shelves. Sliding it back into place, careful to line up the spines perfectly.
“The heir and the spare,” it said. “Why do they even bother? They have everything Asgard needs in Thor.”
He couldn’t hold back. He whirled around and threw one of his knives directly at its heart.
It passed harmlessly through, black parting around it and reforming in its wake. Loki stared. It looked more solid now, more real, the outline clearer and less wavering. He almost took a step back, but refused to give ground, clenching his fists.
“You can pour all the poison you like in my ears,” he said, and his face burned to hear how his voice shook, “but I will not listen to a word of it. I am Loki, Prince of Asgard, a son of Odin-”
“Ah,” it said, sounding satisfied. “So that is your name, little liar. Loki.”
His stomach plunged. Idiot, he thought savagely. You utter fool, a little stung pride and you give up your true name to this mirror-demon, a dark creature of unknown nature?
“Loki,” it said. “Yes.”
He took a step back, breathing quickly.
“Loki?” He heard. Thor’s voice, but Loki didn’t call back, standing frozen, staring at the thing he’d unleashed. “Loki! Where are you?”
“You had better answer,” it said. “Or he will leave without you. As he always will. Every year, he leaves you further behind.”
“Be silent,” Loki said, and hated how his voice quavered. “You know nothing. You are nothing.”
“I only speak what you do not want to admit,” the shadow said.
“Loki!” Thor called again, and he took a step back.
“Begone,” he said, finally calling on his magic and lashing out with it. The shadow melted away, but Loki could have sworn he heard it laughing as it did. His throat burned and he wanted to scream at it: you’re wrong, Thor will never leave me, we’re brothers, no one is bound so closely together as we are.
Thor rounded the corner. “There you are,” he said, sounding impatient. “I’ve been calling you for ages. What were you studying that was so interesting?”
Loki glanced away with a shrug. “Nothing,” he said. “What did you want?”
“Sif and I are going for a ride,” Thor said. “Do you want to join us?”
For another afternoon of standing to the side and watching the two of you banter and tease each other? No, thank you, Loki thought, but the shadow’s words crept into his mind: he will leave without you. Every year, he leaves you further behind.
Loki balled his hands into fists and forced himself to open them and shrug as though it didn’t much matter. “Why not? I’m finished here.”
Thor brightened, and his smile went a long way toward sweeping aside some of Loki’s uncertainties.
He glanced uneasily over his shoulder as he left, searching the corners for any suspicious looking shadows. Perhaps, he thought briefly, he ought to say something to Odin or Frigga about the thing.
Loki dismissed the thought immediately. It was just a small problem. A nuisance, nothing more. Not worth bringing to them at all.
The next few days were quiet, though Loki caught himself peering suspiciously at any patches of darkness that seemed out of place. He began shadowing Halvar, and was surprised by how engaging he found the work. It was not glamorous, certainly, but it was...interesting. And more complicated than just counting coins.
Still, for all Thor complained about how dull the meetings he attended were, a private envy still gnawed at him. And some part of him wondered if Thor was deliberately exaggerating how hateful he found it to make Loki feel better, which seemed too much like pity for Loki to appreciate.
For a few days, Loki dared to think he might have gotten rid of the mirror-shadow for good.
Then - oh, then.
Thor was joining their father on a journey to Vanaheim. A brief one, Thor said. Just a few days, Thor said. Loki did not ask if he had been invited; the sheepish, almost nervous look on Thor’s face was clear enough. The way he was trying to make excuses.
Loki forced a smile. “You’ll have to tell me all about it when you return,” he said, injecting false cheer into his voice that didn’t sound convincing even to him. Thor’s face fell.
“You’re not jealous, are you?” He asked. “It’s only Vanaheim. Besides, wouldn’t you rather stay here anyway? It’ll all be talks and meetings with dull Vanir lords. Nothing exciting.”
Meetings with your future liege lords. Parties where you will dazzle and charm everyone there, as you always do. Loki’s shoulders tensed. “Easy for you to say,” he snapped. “It isn’t you always getting left behind.”
Thor straightened. “What are you yelling at me for? It’s not my fault.”
Yes it is, Loki thought, unexpectedly savage. It is your fault, you’re like a fire burning up all the oxygen in the room so there’s nothing left for me. You are the heir and I am the spare and everyone knows it. I’m nothing more than your shadow. “You’re right,” Loki said. “It’s not your fault that Father likes you more.”
Thor stared at him, shocked, and then laughed. “What do you mean? Don’t be ridiculous, Loki.”
“You wouldn’t see it, would you,” Loki said. “After all, it’s only what you deserve.”
Thor’s face darkened. “What’s gotten into you? Why are you making so much fuss about one little trip?”
Loki looked away. It’s not fair, he thought, like the child he wasn’t supposed to be anymore. “Never mind,” Loki said bitterly. “It doesn’t matter.”
Thor frowned at him. “Fine,” he said. “Go on and sulk.” He turned on his heel and stormed away. Loki resisted the urge to call after him and just stood, hands balled into fists at his sides and breathing hard.
Only a few seconds after Thor was out of sight, though, the anger melted away, leaving a hollow space where it had been. Loki slumped, feeling childish and stupid. He’d lost his temper with Thor, driven him off, and it didn’t mean anything. Nothing changed.
Thor was still going, and he still wasn’t.
“He is probably going to your father right now.”
Loki whirled around, tensing. One shadow detached itself from a cluster of them, and Loki almost thought he could see the glitter of eyes. He took a step back. “Back again?” he said, trying for callous disdain though he fell far short of it.
“What do you think he will say?” The shadow said, as though he hadn’t spoken. “That his brother is envious, full of petty jealousy?”
Loki opened his mouth to argue and snapped it shut. He shouldn’t give it the attention. It was trying to provoke him, clearly, and he was not going to be manipulated by a phantasm from a mirror.
“You make a very pathetic prince,” the shadow said. Loki dug his nails into the palms of his hands and turned away, stalking back toward his rooms. “Are you going to sulk now?” The shadow called, and Loki whirled before he could stop himself, hissing the harshest banishing spell he’d ever memorized.
The shadow melted away - and reformed a moment later. Loki froze, breath catching in his throat.
“Is it any wonder that you aren’t being brought along?” It said sweetly. It swayed to and fro like a snake, it’s form for a moment almost something like a man before it blurred back into shapelessness. “’It’s not fair.’ Of course it is. This is a reward, and you have to earn rewards. What have you done to earn anything?” Loki couldn’t seem to move. He opened his mouth to object, but the only words that bubbled up in his mind were it’s right, you know.
“Nothing,” the shadow said, like it was relishing the word. “Nothing at all, little liar. If you hadn’t been born in this house...no one would ever look at you twice.”
“Stop it,” Loki said. The shadow laughed.
“Why? It isn’t anything you don’t already know. Oh, you try to smother it in comforting platitudes. You are a prince. Born to be a king. But there is one heir to Asgard’s throne, and it isn’t you.”
Loki swallowed hard, or tried, the lump in his throat seeming to block it. “It doesn’t matter,” he said. “I do not need to be king. I can be just as important at Thor’s side–”
“Behind him, you mean,” the shadow interrupted, drawing nearer and seeming to bend down. It was man-shaped, now, long and spindly fingers reaching toward Loki’s face. “Unseen. Unnoticed. Or do you really believe your own lies?”
Iron bands tightened around Loki’s chest, squeezing his ribs. “What do you want from me,” he said.
“The truth,” the shadow said, voice suddenly turning gentle. “It may be painful now, but isn’t it better to know than to pretend?”
Loki wavered. He shook his head. “I don’t believe you. Are you really claiming that you are just trying to help?”
“The sooner you admit what you are,” the shadow crooned, “the better off you will be. The better off everyone will be.”
Loki’s eyes burned. He turned his back. “I will not listen to you,” he said, teeth gritted. “You are - you are just some dark thing seeking to poison my mind. To weaken me. It won’t work.”
The shadow withdrew its hands. “There is only so long you can hide,” it said. “You already know I am right.”
Then it was gone. Loki let out a ragged breath that sounded just on the edge of a sob and sucked it back in, blinking rapidly several times until he had himself back under control. He felt shaky, chilled, like he was coming down with a fever. He could still hear its voice echoing in his head, slithering through his thoughts and taking root.
You already know I am right.
Loki pressed the back of his hand to his mouth, turned on his heel, and went to go for a ride, hoping that the fresh air would clear his head. Then he would come back and look for stronger banishing spells. Or maybe workings to lock spirits into objects. It had come out of a mirror; maybe Loki could trap it in another one.
Do you really believe your own lies?
Loki dug his fingernails into his palms, the sting grounding him somewhat. It was something, at least. Something to focus on that wasn’t the word nothing circling in his mind like a vulture eyeing a dying animal.
Loki woke up the morning after his argument with Thor with a headache and exhaustion dogging his heels. His thoughts were a blurry, confused, muddle and while he couldn’t remember them, he knew he’d had terrible dreams.
He took breakfast with his mother, who watched him picking disinterestedly at his food and frowned.
“Are you feeling well, Loki?” She asked. He raised his head and forced a smile.
“Yes,” he said automatically, and then said, “a bit tired.”
She smiled. “Working hard? I know your father has been giving you and Thor more responsibilities. I hope he isn’t leaving you with no time for yourself.”
“No,” Loki said quickly. “No - I can’t complain. I - I appreciate it, truly. It’s an honor.”
Frigga gave him an odd look, a frown touching the corners of her mouth. “Well, then,” she said. “I am...glad to hear that.”
“Yes,” Loki said. “Yes, it’s...good.” He took an overlarge bite of egg that tasted like paper, and forced himself to chew and swallow before setting down his fork. “May I...ask you something, mother?”
“Anything, love,” she said with a smile. Loki looked down at his plate.
“Do you know of…” He paused. “I was reading something, and...can mirrors be used to trap things? Spirits, or the like?”
Frigga paused, and after a moment set down her own utensils. “What were you reading?”
Loki shrugged. “I don’t remember what it was called. It wasn’t about...just a passing mention, and it got me thinking.” The lie came to him easily. A faint frown line appeared between his mother’s eyebrows.
“It’s old magic,” she said, finally. “Not much in use anymore. It used to be done, in order to sequester certain types of spirits.”
“Why not anymore?” Loki asked. How is it done? He couldn’t exactly say that, though, without losing the pretense that this was a theoretical discussion. And he did not much want to tell his mother that he’d loosed something unpleasant on Asgard by accident.
She would think he was such a stupid, ignorant child. Imagining the disappointment on her face - without even touching his father’s anger…
Frigga spoke slowly, as though considering her words carefully. “Mages these days favor banishing,” she said. “It was not...a permanent solution, after all. Mirrors can be easily broken, and the spirit within freed. And it was used, also, as a means to...bind spirits to a sorcerer’s will. Rather than banishing them entirely, they could be tied to the earthly plane and used.” She gave Loki a sharp look. “I needn’t tell you how dangerous that sort of magic-working is. And how easily twisted to evil ends.”
A shiver went down Loki’s spine. “I know,” he said. He remembered, quite vividly, Frigga’s description of what happened to mages who lost control of spirits they tried to bind. Which was all of them, eventually. His mother relaxed slightly.
“Ultimately,” she went on, “the whole practice was deemed too dangerous, and as summoning magic fell out of favor in general, it was one of the first things to be discarded.” She examined him. “Does that answer your question?”
“What happened when the spirit was freed?” Loki asked carefully. “Couldn’t you just banish it?”
Frigga hummed. “Often, yes - though of course that isn’t always such a simple task. But sometimes…” She examined him, and Loki thought she was debating whether or not to say something. He held still and tried to look curious but innocent. “Sometimes the spirit would...fix on the person who broke the mirror. A way to insure that a rival mage did not free a spirit in order to sabotage her fellow who had called it to begin with. In those cases, extricating it from the material plane became a great deal more complicated.”
“But it could be done,” Loki blurted out, before he could stop himself. “I mean - it wasn’t permanent.”
“No, of course not,” Frigga said, giving him a strange look. “Few things are. But it is seldom a benefit to have a spirit fixed to your heels - especially one that has been trapped and is likely angry.” She paused. “But all of this...it is history, Loki. You are thoroughly unlikely to run into anything of the like unless you go looking for it.”
Loki tried to smile and look relieved. “Thank you for indulging my curiosity,” he said, and picked up his fork again to resume eating, staring down at his plate. Conversation fell quiet for a while.
“Loki,” his mother said abruptly, and he looked up to see an expression of concern on her face. “You know if something is bothering you...you can always come to me. Don’t you?”
“I - of course,” Loki said, somewhat automatically, and then, “why?”
“I know that…” she seemed to be considering. “Thor said that you were...upset by the fact that you were not to be joining him and your father on their journey to Vanaheim.”
Loki’s stomach turned sour. He imagined Thor complaining to their mother about Loki, about his petty, resentful little brother. He controlled his face with an effort.
“It’s all right,” he said, forcing a little smile. “I understand that it’s not about me. It’s just not my turn yet. I’m not upset.”
“Really,” she said.
“I guess I was, a little,” Loki said. “But I thought about it, and not anymore.”
It was so easy to lie. So...natural.
“Good,” his mother said after a pause. “That’s good. I’m glad to hear it.”
Something in his chest ached. He’d wanted her to say something else, Loki realized. To push, or to agree with him that it was unfair, or...something. He wasn’t even sure what that would be, exactly.
Just that not getting it left him feeling rather hollow.
Loki slept poorly, restlessly, and woke with his head aching and full of wool. He couldn’t remember his dreams, only that they’d been unpleasant. Thor and Odin were leaving today, he remembered, and wanted to roll over, pull the blankets up over his head, and go back to sleep.
“You look pathetic.”
“Go away,” Loki said, and cringed at how childish it sounded.
“Why? So you can lie here moping alone?” The shadow scoffed. Its voice sounded different than it had before - clearer, and strangely familiar. “As I said. Pathetic.”
Loki pushed the blankets back and sat up. The shadow was there, and its outline seemed more solid, now, like it was getting stronger, gaining more of a foothold. Loki turned his back resolutely and began dressing himself, trying to ignore the warning prickle on the back of his neck.
“Ignore me all you like,” the shadow said. “It is no less true, and you know it. Besides, pathetic is the best that can be said of you, little liar.” Loki hunched his shoulders and said nothing, marching into the bathroom to splash cold water on his face in the hopes that it would clear his head. “What a performance you gave for your mother,” the shadow went on, its voice following him. “How she loves you. And you repay her with deceit.”
Loki bit the inside of his cheek so he didn’t answer, and straightened up only to jump, eyes widening. The shadow was just behind him, and for a moment he could almost make out a face; he did feel it when it reached out and caressed the side of his face, cold as ice, and he flinched hastily away.
“I know what you are,” he hissed, his stomach roiling. The chill of that touch seemed to sink into him, all the way to his core. “Nothing but a spirit, captured and bound by some sorcerer. Chained. You must have been weak.”
The shadow shifted, morphed, fingers extending into claws. “Weak,” it said, more snarl than speech. Loki felt a stab of triumph.
“Yes,” he said. “Weak. Trapped in a mirror. Locked away in a dusty room. Forgotten. You might be haunting me, taunting me, but that’s all you can do. You’re nothing but words.”
The talons formed back into fingers. Its body coalesced back into an ordinary shape. “Is that what you think?” It said. Loki raised his chin.
“It’s all you’ve done so far. Are you going to tell me you can do worse? Threaten me?”
“No,” the shadow said. “No. Not threaten. Why would I threaten you?” It seemed to settle, calming. “I don’t need to threaten you.”
An alarm bell was clanging at the back of Loki’s mind. “Why not?” He asked, suddenly uncertain.
A flash, as of teeth. As of a smile, and a shadow, Loki thought, should not be able to smile. It stepped closer to him.
“Because whether or not I threaten you,” it crooned, “you will give me what I want.”
Loki’s stomach lurched and his breathing quickened. “And what is it you want, shadow?”
“That,” it said, “would be telling.” It withdrew, then. “Go on, princeling. Don’t you want to bid your brother farewell?”
Loki’s jaw worked. “I will be rid of you,” he said. “And all your hateful lies.”
“Not lies,” it said. “Never lies. I would never lie to you, Loki.” This time he was certain of it: a smile, and it looked entirely wrong on the shadow’s not-a-face. “I don’t need to. You think I am trying to wound? I am the only one in your life who will be honest with you.”
It was gone again before Loki could answer. He wrapped his arms around himself, realizing that he was shivering, chilled to the bone. His mouth flooded with saliva and he twisted quickly to vomit into the sink rather than on the floor.
When the wave of nausea passed, Loki lifted his head and looked at himself in the mirror. His face was bone-white. He looked sickly, ugly. Pathetic.
He conjured a glamor to cover himself and left, his stomach still twisting in knots, the cold of the shadow’s touch lingering in his bones.
Loki bade Thor farewell with a smile, and Thor seemed pleased, embracing Loki hard enough that his ribs creaked and promising to bring him back some treasure - perhaps a dragon’s egg? Loki laughed, though some dark emotion still seethed in his chest as he watched Thor and Odin lead their horses out to the end of the Bifrost. He turned away before it swept them off, and went to seek out solitude.
His solitude did not last for long.
“And now you are alone,” the shadow said. Loki did not look at it, but he could see out of the corner of his eye that it was no longer formless at all, but well and truly man-shaped. It seemed to have shrunk, however, and where it sat on the bench beside him was nearly his exact height. “He must be relieved not to have you tagging along at his heels.”
“Thor loves me,” Loki said, before he could stop himself. “You cannot make me doubt that.”
The shadow laughed. “He loves having an obedient little companion who makes him greater by contrast. You make him feel superior. Give him confidence in his own greatness. After all, if ever he doubts himself, all he needs to do is look at you and think at least I am not Loki.”
Loki dug his fingers into his legs. “It isn’t like that.”
“Isn’t it?”
He lurched to his feet and walked away, his stomach churning. It was like the shadow’s words were seeping into him, and while he tried to shake them off they were already in his bloodstream. He felt sick.
“He loves me,” he insisted. “I am his brother.”
“You are his shadow,” the shadow said with relish. “Your mother pities you. Your father sees you as a disappointment. Have you deluded yourself so far that you do not see it?”
Loki resisted the childish urge to put his hands over his ears. “They are my family.”
“So they love you out of obligation,” the shadow said. “Nothing more.” It stood as well, circling around to stand in front of him. Loki could just make out the vague outline of a face, the hint of a jawline, the suggestion of eyes. “What use are you to them otherwise? They only need one prince. They only want one.”
Loki swallowed hard. His eyes and stomach burned. “Be silent.”
“Weak,” the shadow said. “Foolish. Pathetic. Useless. What do you have that your brother does not? What do you have to offer?”
Nothing. Nothing at all. “My magic,” he said. “I’m smarter. Cleverer.”
“Who cares?” The shadow stepped closer to him, as though they were about to kiss. “Magic and trickery? A modicum of cleverness? You grasp at straws. No one wants a clever prince. A clever son. They want one who can command loyalty. Respect. One who is brave and true and a proper warrior.”
“What would you have me do?” Loki burst out. “You tell me I have no place here - where exactly do you expect me to go? This is my home.”
The shadow laughed, soft and vicious. “And it doesn’t want you,” it said. “Nobody wants you. You could disappear tomorrow and no one would notice, or care. You could die, and who would mourn?”
Hot and shameful tears welled up and spilled over. “It’s not true,” he whispered, but his stomach ached. The shadow reached out and cupped the back of his neck with its cold hand, a mockery of affection.
“You know it is,” it said, voice shifting to gentleness. “You feel its truth in your bones. Don’t you? You haven’t wanted to admit it, but it is there. Every time you are passed over for Thor. Every time you are silenced to let him speak. Every time your father ignores you. Your mother tells you that you are not different, not less, but if that is so then why do people treat you like you are?
“Because you are the flaw. You are the fault along which the stone splits. You are what is wrong.”
Loki stood, transfixed, trembling very slightly.
“Admit it,” the shadow said. Loki swallowed hard.
“I know,” he said, soft and hoarse. “I...know.”
“There you are,” the shadow crooned. “Don’t you feel better?”
It vanished before he could answer. Loki covered his face with his hands, still shaking, tears rolling down his cheeks.
You are what is wrong.
He made himself invisible and stumbled back to his rooms, where he locked the door, crawled into bed, curled up under the covers, and wept silently until he managed to escape into sleep.
He woke in the middle of the night feverish and nauseated, having slept for nearly twelve hours. Stumbling to the bathroom, he vomited twice but his stomach did not settle. Dizzy and weak, his joints aching, he considered calling a healer but shoved the idea away.
Odds were he’d just eaten something that had disagreed with him. He was not going to be a weakling who went whining for comfort at the slightest of pains.
He tried to go back to sleep but it was elusive, and eventually he lit a candle and tried to read, but the words swam in front of his eyes. An ache started at his temples and spread until it felt like his head would split in two.
The thought slid into his mind that Thor never fell ill like this. Not Thor, the mighty, the invincible, the perfect–
His eyes prickled. He wanted someone to know he was suffering and come. He wanted someone to have noted his absence yesterday and come. He knew Frigga would, if he asked - she would be here in moments, and run her fingers through his hair, and comfort him, and imagining it made his chest ache with longing–
But it would ring false. They love you out of obligation. Nothing more.
He curled up tighter into himself. It felt a bit as though there was a small animal gnawing on his heart.
“Hiding away in the dark?”
Loki held in a moan. Leave me alone, he wanted to say, like a whining child. Stop it. “I’m sick,” he said.
“I can see that,” the shadow said, voice smooth and sure. “What a fine figure you cut.”
“Do you never tire of your own voice?” Loki demanded. He meant it to sound caustic, but it came out thin and pathetic.
“Do you?” The shadow laughed. “All that talk to fill the silence. The emptiness at your core.”
“That isn’t why.”
“Isn’t it?” He could hear the shadow’s smile without seeing it. “I know you, Loki. You forget. I know your mind, your soul. Your thoughts and fears and secrets. I have seen the core of you, and just as your father has, have found it wanting.”
Loki’s stomach clenched and he tasted bile. He bit his lip so he didn’t answer.
“Look at me,” the shadow said, and there was something resonant in its voice that he could not disobey. He opened his eyes and turned his head, and his blood went cold.
He was looking at his own face. Or almost: it was his, but not quite, ever so slightly wrong in a hundred small ways. Even as he looked, though, the features shifted, clarified - the clearest sign of difference was the eyes, black as pitch from lid to lid.
“Do you think I would make a better you?” It said, soft and malevolent. “I doubt anyone would notice. They might even be grateful for the change.”
“No,” Loki said, but it came out a croak, his throat half-closed. He couldn’t move, frozen, fear choking him. Finally, he lunged for his magic, remembering himself - only to feel it seized, bent, twisted from his control. Pain spiked through him and he cried out, struggling as his power was pulled out of him, drawn up from his core.
The shadow let out a pleased sigh, like it had swallowed a draught of fine wine. Loki felt himself shivering, his vision doubling before it steadied.
“Thank you,” the shadow said, “for letting me in.” The black of its eyes diminished, shrinking to a normal pupil. Loki couldn’t catch his breath, and when he struggled to rise his limbs felt like dead weight. “I won’t need you for much longer,” it went on. “A few more days. A week at most. Oh, princeling.” It bent down and kissed him, its touch, before cold as ice, now warm as ordinary flesh. “You set me free. You made me strong. I could not be more grateful that you made it so easy.”
“They’ll know,” Loki managed. His voice sounded strange, distorted. “My mother will be able to tell-”
“We’ll see, won’t we?” the shadow said. “Perhaps. But with my power, and yours…” Loki felt that painful tug on his magic again, sucking more out of him. “I think I can deal with her.”
Loki wanted to howl, to scream, but his own power wound around him, a silencing spell tightening around his throat that left him utterly voiceless. He would not be able to so much as whimper. His head felt as though it was going to split in two, and every breath lanced pain through his lungs. His stomach lurched and heaved.
“Time for me to go, little liar,” the shadow said, in Loki’s voice, and walked away.
The door locked behind it. His own spells would keep it closed.
Stupid, he thought savagely. Stupid, stupid, to think you could handle it on your own, to think that you were strong enough when you are nothing, nothing at all. His eyes burned with helpless, angry tears. And he was still too weak: too weak to rise, to fight, to free himself from the bonds of his own magic usurped and turned against him.
He tried. Oh, he tried. But the more he fought it, the weaker he seemed to become, and ultimately, miserable and exhausted, he gave up. His only hope was that someone would realize something was wrong. But would they?
They might even be grateful for the change.
The tears that spilled over felt hot on his cold skin.
His memories blurred. The shadow, though it was shadow no longer, returned, and laughed at his struggles that were becoming weaker by the day. He, Loki thought, was becoming the shadow himself, and he wondered if when it was over he would be locked in a mirror - or if he would simply die and be buried in some anonymous grave, or sent over the edge of Asgard into the Void.
His periods of consciousness grew shorter. The despair grew stronger. He tried, belatedly, to strip away the protections that kept him from Heimdall’s sight, but he had no control over his own power, yoked as it was to the shadow’s will.
“I was right,” it said to him at night, whispering in his ear. “No one has noticed anything wrong at all. It stands to reason, as no one ever noticed you.”
The animal in his chest was eating through his heart. He closed his eyes and sought refuge in oblivion. His ability to fight was dwindling to almost nothing.
He was on his own, maybe had always been on his own, and he wasn’t strong enough to save himself. Asgard did not need a weak prince.
Asgard did not need him.
The next thing he was aware of was Thor’s face looming over him, his hands on Loki’s face burning. “Loki!” he was saying, from what sounded like far away. “Stay awake, please, stay awake.”
Why, Loki would have asked, if he’d been able to speak, but he could not, and could not do as Thor asked either.
Slipping away, he wondered if his eyes would open again.
It was dark when he woke up. He hurt, but not like he’d been beaten - somehow deeper, a sense of wrongness not yet corrected despite the fact that he could feel magic humming around him.
It took a longer moment to remember what had happened, and why he was here. He must have been found. Somehow, someone had realized before it was too late.
He was less relieved than it seemed as though he ought to be. Perhaps he was just too exhausted for it.
Loki’s mouth was as dry as bone and he looked for water, but none had been left. He found the bell to summon an attendant, rang it, and flopped back down, staring up at the ceiling. His chest was hollow. I have seen the core of you, and just as your father has, have found it wanting.
If they’d figured it out, recognized the imposter, then they knew his weakness. Knew what he had done, his mistake, his failure. Loki’s heart sank and he wanted to crawl under the bed and make himself invisible.
The healer came in, but despite the nagging thirst Loki pretended to be asleep. He didn’t want to talk to anyone. Maybe never again.
They didn’t leave him alone forever.
Eir came back later to perform a series of tests. He only half listened to her explanation about energy drain and vulnerability to infection and careful monitoring, his attention more occupied by his mother sitting at his bedside, her hands folded in her lap and looking at him with an expression that was mostly unreadable save the faint lines of strain around her eyes.
“You are recovering well so far, my Prince,” Eir said. “But it will be a couple days yet before you can leave this room for your own quarters.”
She glanced at Frigga, bowed, and went out, leaving the two of them alone. Loki tried not to hunch his shoulders, but he did look away from her.
“Loki,” she said, her voice soft. “Why do you turn away from me?”
He knew what he was supposed to say. “I am sorry,” he said dully. “I should not have hidden the truth from you.” How did you realize, he wanted to ask. Was it too perfect, too good?
“That is the last thing that concerns me right now.” She reached out and touched Loki’s shoulder. “We nearly lost you.”
Loki said nothing. He did not see what there was to say.
“The spirit stalking you was draining you,” his mother went on. “Drawing on your life force and, when it was strong enough, your magic. When Thor found you, you had barely enough strength to sustain your body.”
“Thor found me?” Loki said before he could stop himself, turning toward Frigga. Her eyebrows were furrowed.
“He was the one who realized something was wrong,” she said after a long pause. “He was adamant. Eventually, your father investigated, to indulge Thor, and unmasked the deception. It would not say where you were, but Thor had already gone to your rooms, guessing that it would need you close by.”
He remembered Thor pleading with him to stay awake. So now Thor, too, knew him for a weakling and a liar. Loki wanted to shrivel up.
“Oh,” he said. His mother’s expression flickered.
“We have all been worried sick waiting for your recovery,” she said. “Destroying the spirit seems to have helped, but–”
“Destroying?” Loki said. “Not banishing?”
Frigga gave him a long look and then said, “your father was very angry. It suggested that…” She drew an unsteady breath. “It suggested that you were dead, and we to blame.”
“Of course you aren’t,” Loki said, too tired to put much feeling in it.
“I should have seen that you weren’t well,” Frigga said. “I knew something was wrong but I decided not to press it–”
“Mother,” Loki interrupted, “it’s not your fault. I freed it. I kept the secret. I was weak enough–”
She blinked. “Weak enough?”
Loki fell quiet and looked away. She said nothing for several moments.
“Spirits are deceivers, my darling,” she said. “You must know that. They will say whatever they must to hold the attention of their victims, and keep them snared.”
Little liar, the shadow whispered in his mind. Loki bit his lip.
“I listened.”
“Listened to what?” Frigga asked, her voice suddenly sharpening. “What did the fiend say?”
Loki held his tongue but his eyes burned. He closed them, hoping that would keep any tears from spilling out. “Nothing,” he said. “Nothing important.”
“It seems to me it may be of some importance.” His mother took a deep breath. “Why didn’t you ask me for help? Or your father?”
It didn’t matter, did it? How much worse could his shame be? How much lower could he sink? “I knew you would be angry,” he said. “And it would only prove…” He trailed off, and then forced the words out. “It would only prove how worthless I am. As a prince. As a son. I know...I know I’m a disappointment. I wanted to prove that I could deal with it on my own. But I couldn’t.”
Loki twisted away from her and hunched his shoulders. Frigga was silent, but he could hear her breathing, suddenly unsteady.
“Is that...is that what it told you?” She sounded a mixture of anguished and angry. “That you are worthless? A disappointment? That could not be further from the truth–”
“It’s all right,” Loki said. “You don’t have to lie to me anymore.”
“Lie to you!” Her voice rose sharply. “I have never - you are my son, Loki, and I love you. How could you believe…”
“It’s just obvious,” Loki said. “What do I have that Thor doesn’t? I’m the spare. And not even a very good one.” He closed his eyes. “I think I’d like to be alone.”
He thought by the sound she made in her throat that she was going to object, but she only said, “we’re not done talking about this.”
“I don’t have anything else to say,” Loki said emptily. You are the flaw. You are the fault along which the stone splits. She’d coddled him, trying to make him something more than what he was. It wasn’t her fault it had failed.
“I love you,” Frigga said again. “More than you can know. Will you believe that?”
“You have to,” Loki said. “You’re my mother. You didn’t get the choice.”
“That’s not how it works,” she said.
It felt like he was drowning. “I want to be alone,” he repeated. It was several moments before he heard her sigh and stand up, moving away in a soft rustle of her skirts. He slowed his breathing, yearning for the oblivion of dreamless sleep.
Eir woke him and inquired after his state, both physical and, with more delicacy, mental. Loki told her honestly: he was weak but not in any real pain, and mentally he felt like himself. She probed further on the latter, but Loki gave her nothing more.
He regretted saying as much as he had to his mother. She wasn’t there this time, nor Thor, nor Odin. Of course not Odin. The shame...his shame must be great. How many people knew? What had they told the court to explain Loki’s absence?
As soon as Eir left he went back to sleep. Despite how much time he’d spent unconscious under the shadow’s parasitic attention, he was still exhausted, deep in his bones where it felt like it would never leave.
The next time he surfaced it was to the sound of an argument.
“--didn’t hear what he was saying, Odin.”
“I am certain. The creature is gone; there is nothing left that could be clinging to him. Eir would know if there was.”
“He called himself worthless. A disappointment. Claimed that I was lying when I tried to tell him otherwise, and that I only love him–” Frigga’s voice broke off with a sharp intake of breath. “That I only love him because I don’t have a choice. Tell me that does not sound like madness.”
Madness. So now they thought him mad, too.
“Frigga,” his father said slowly, “this sort of creature cannot...alter thoughts by force. And destroyed, it cannot possibly have any hold over Loki’s mind. Anything he said…”
“Oh,” Frigga said, her voice soft. Loki curled up tighter and bit his lip.
“It might have amplified them,” Odin said, and his voice sounded heavier than Loki could remember hearing it. “But the thoughts were already there.”
“Norns,” his mother said, after a long pause, and it sounded shaky. Now look what you’ve done, hissed the shadow’s vicious voice, but now only in his head. You’ve made her weep.
He shut his ears, but he could not shut out the touch of a hand on his shoulder, when it came.
“Loki, my son,” said his father’s voice. “Will you look at me?”
He did not dare disobey. He turned his head to look Odin in the eye. His expression was grave, the lines around his mouth seemingly a little deeper. “I am glad you have returned to us,” he said, though he didn’t look glad in the least.
“Mother told me that you freed me,” he said. “Thank you.”
An odd flicker passed through his father’s eye. “I should have seen sooner that you were...troubled.”
Troubled. What a kind word. “It isn’t your fault,” Loki said wearily, as he had to his mother. “I chose to hide it from you.”
“Nonetheless,” Odin said. “I am your father. It is my duty to notice these things, and address them. To keep you from harm.”
You are a weakling who cannot take care of himself, Loki heard, and wanted to flinch. “It should not be,” he said in a small voice. “You have other duties to see to. Many - many matters that need your attention.”
“Not least the welfare of my sons,” his father said, a little more sharply, and Loki did flinch then. Pain tightened Odin’s face though he cleared it quickly, and Loki wished he had controlled himself a little better. “Loki…”
“It’s my fault,” Loki said. “No one else’s.”
His father was quiet. His eye turned from Loki and he looked into the distance. “Creatures like this...they can cultivate the worst thoughts a person has. Sap their strength by nudging someone toward their fears and hurts, and feed on the despair that provokes. What they say may...may feel true, but that doesn’t mean it is.”
I am the only one in your life who will be honest with you.
“I understand,” he said. His father hesitated.
“Do you? I fear you do not.”
“Mother said the same thing.”
“But you did not believe her,” Odin said. “Will you believe me?”
Yes, he wanted to say, but he choked on the words. “I can’t,” was what came out instead. His father’s eye closed.
“Why not?”
“Because I know–” Loki swallowed hard. “How can you ask me that? I know it’s true. I’m - I’m not what you want me to be. I’m not Thor and I’ll never be as good as he is, I’m always going to come second to him and I know why, I know it’s because I’m not good enough and because he’s your heir, and I’ll always be an afterthought.” His eyes were stinging and he wanted to stop, but he couldn’t. “A spirit replaced me and it took you days - days - to notice. And maybe - maybe what it said wasn’t kind but at least it didn’t lie to me and try to pretend I’m equal when I’ll never be anything but the spare!”
Silence followed his words. “You are not an afterthought,” Odin said finally, and his voice sounded strangely unsteady. “You are as much a prince as your brother. As much my son.”
“Look me in the eye,” Loki said, “and tell me that he is not your favorite, when your eyes are always on him, when you heap honors on him, when you take him with you on your journeys and invite him into your council.”
“Loki…”
“And everyone else knows it, too,” Loki said. “They see how you treat him, and how you treat me, and so he’s the one whose favors they want. People flock to him seeking friendship, and I am left clinging to his shadow. But what could I say? You’d only think me jealous, and I am, I am jealous, and useless, and lesser and rotten and a liar, and I am sorry, only - only don’t tell me it is otherwise.”
He broke off breathing hard, and tears streaming down his face, and turned away from his father to dash his hand across his eyes.
“Loki,” Odin repeated, his voice anguished. “I didn’t know. I didn’t know that you felt this way, that you believed…”
“I don’t believe,” Loki interrupted. “I know. All the shadow did was - was remind me of what I already knew all along.” He curled up. “I can’t pretend anymore.”
His father was quiet. He laid a hand on Loki’s shoulder but when he flinched pulled away. “I don’t know what to say,” he said at last. Loki swallowed a sob. Somehow he’d hoped, he realized, that Odin would have the right words to convince him that he was wrong. He felt like he was crumpling inward.
“Tell me what you need to hear from me,” his father said. Loki shook his head, lips pressed together and eyes squeezed tightly shut.
At last, Odin stood with a heavy sigh. “I need to speak with your mother,” he said heavily. “But Loki...this conversation is not over.”
Loki stayed silent. At length the door closed.
He wished, with sudden force, that the shadow had finished its work.
The next day he was strong enough to stand, and sit up to eat, though he had little appetite. He was picking listlessly at his plate when Thor arrived. His face broke into a relieved smile that Loki couldn’t return. “You’re awake!” he said. “And you look...better. Still terrible, but better.”
Loki thought it was probably meant as a jest, but he hunched his shoulders. “Yes,” he said. “I’m awake.”
Thor’s smile fell and he looked slightly less sure of himself as he strode over. “I mean it,” he said. “You do look better. When I found you I thought…” He trailed off and for a moment there was a lost look in his eyes, but it was swept away after a moment and he plopped himself down in the chair. “But that’s not important. Mother says you’re recovering well.”
“I am,” Loki said, turning his eyes toward his plate. “Slowly.” He forced a laugh. “Paying the price for my own stupidity.”
He expected Thor to tease him about that, but instead a frown started and he eyed Loki carefully. He wondered with a lurch what else Frigga might have said about him. “Are you all right?” Thor asked.
“Like Mother said,” Loki said. “I’m recovering.”
“I don’t mean…” Thor cleared his throat. “You seem...unhappy.”
“I’m just tired.”
Thor’s expression didn’t change, and after a moment he blurted out, “I heard our parents arguing. About you.”
Loki’s heart sank into his stomach. “What were they saying,” he asked, before he could think better of it.
“That you’d been saying...things. About yourself. And about...about me.” Loki held his tongue, bitterness and anger and exhaustion warring with each other. Thor paused, and then said, “do you resent me?”
There seemed no real point in lying. “Sometimes,” he said. “I know it’s not fair. It’s not your fault you’re...you.”
Thor’s expression filled with distress. “What have I ever done to hurt you?” he asked. Loki shook his head.
“It doesn’t matter. It’s not your fault.”
“It matters to me,” Thor said, impassioned. “I don’t want to hurt you. You’re my brother.”
“I know you don’t want to.”
“So if I have,” Thor said doggedly, “I want to know so I can stop.”
Loki pushed his plate violently away, meager appetite gone. “You can’t,” he said. “It’s not about you. Not about anything you’re doing. It’s about - it’s about me, and what I am, and what I’ll never be. It’s about the fact that even our parents know that–” He broke off and took a deep breath, then said flatly, “it doesn’t matter. There’s nothing you can do.”
Thor was staring at him, the lost look back in his eyes. “But you’re angry at me,” he said.
“No,” Loki said after a moment. “I’m not. I’m just tired.”
“Do you need anything?” Thor asked. He sounded hopeful. “I could bring you some cakes…”
“I’m not hungry.”
Thor’s face fell a little. “Then - then a book? Or a game? You must be bored.”
Loki slumped. Thor was just trying to help. “A book would be nice,” he said. “There’s one on my bedside table.”
Thor almost bounced to his feet. “I’ll be right back,” he said. “And I’ll bring some cards, too.”
Loki forced a weak smile. “All right,” he said, and added, “thank you, Thor.” Thor gave him a bright smile that made Loki feel a bit better about agreeing and then dashed off.
Frigga came before Thor returned, though she seemed hesitant, strangely uncertain. Loki stared at her, managing not to hunch his shoulders and wishing he could pretend to be asleep. “My son,” she said. “It is good to see you looking stronger.”
“Will I be able to leave soon?”
“I think so. If your recovery continues to go as expected.” She paused, and then came over, moving the other chair to sit across from him. “I spoke with your father.”
Loki moved his hands off the table to twist them together in his lap. “He said he was going to.”
“He is worried about you.”
“He thinks I’m mad,” Loki said dully. “Doesn’t he? That I’ve lost my mind. So do you.”
“No,” Frigga said at once. Bitterness bubbled up Loki’s throat like bile.
“I heard you,” he accused. “Saying so. To him.” The expression that showed briefly on her face betrayed dismay before it was gone. So she hadn’t thought he knew.
“Loki, love, I didn’t mean to say that...you are distressed, wounded by your experience. That is all I meant.”
“Is it?” Loki could not mask his anger, his bitterness.
“It is,” Frigga said firmly. “I understand...I understand that you have been confused. That you have thought that we do not love you, or that we love you less. That you believe you are...that you think hurtful things about yourself. Untrue things. I - we, your father and I - did not realize that you were hurting. And I wish...we would like to amend those hurts.”
“Maybe you do,” Loki said, his throat closing. It was what he had wanted to hear, he realized, and yet hearing it...it sounded like so much empty words. “But father?”
“He feels the same.” She paused, and took a breath. “Your father...he struggles with showing his feelings sometimes. With balancing his need to be a king with his role as your father. But he loves you, and values you.”
Loki’s stomach curdled. “Only,” Loki said, “he values Thor more.”
“That is not so.”
“You say that,” Loki said, “he says that. And yet your actions speak differently.” He stared down at his hands in his lap. “I told him I understand.”
“You do not,” Frigga said, and her voice sharpened considerably. “He has never meant - neither of us have meant - to make you feel as though you are not valued.”
“But you have,” Loki blurted out. “You have. And I just wish - I just wish you’d all stop pretending that we’re the same. That - that both of us were born to be kings. There is only one king. And everyone knows who it will be.” His eyes burned. “That is just - how it is. And I was stupid for not seeing it sooner.”
“Loki–” Frigga hesitated, and it seemed as though she was about to say something. He held his breath.
Thor burst into the room carrying an armful of books. “There were four books on your table,” he said, “so I just picked up all of them - mother?”
Loki looked away. “Thank you, Thor,” he said. “I appreciate it.”
Thor’s eyebrows furrowed and he looked back and forth between them. “Is everything all right?”
“Yes,” Loki said, summoning a weak smile. “It is. Mother, Thor and I were going to play cards. Was there something else you wanted to say?”
“No,” said Frigga after a brief pause. “Not right now.” She stood, and bent down to kiss the crown of his head. “I love you, Loki. All of you. For all that you are.”
She left, and Loki stared after her; so did Thor. “What were you talking about?” he asked.
“Nothing important,” Loki said. He didn’t want to resent Thor. It wasn’t his fault that he was what he was. But it was hard not to. “It doesn’t matter.”
What did? Few things, it seemed. The shadow had peeled so much out of him, Loki thought, and even as his body recovered, he didn’t think he was going to get those other things back.
But then, you’ve always been hollow, whispered a voice that sounded like the spirit’s.
After all, you are just a shadow.