Loki

by Mackenzi Lee

  The temperature continued to drop the deeper they moved into the court. Even the few guards they came upon—each of them easily dispatched with a small spell encouraging them to look the other way or, if Loki wasn’t quick enough, a hard thump on the back of the head from Thor—were wearing heavier cloaks than the guards who stood watch at the table for supper. The material looked slick and oily, like fish scales. “Why aren’t you freezing?” Thor hissed at Loki. He had his arms folded hard against his chest, holding his cloak closed tightly over him. At his belt, his hammer, Mjolnir, created an unfortunate bulge in the fur.

  There were three sets of doors that had to be breached to reach the Prism of the Ice Court, all roughly hewn from thick ice, built for strength rather than aesthetics. Each opened with a different key from the captain’s belt. Alfheim did not have the magical undercurrents to power more advanced defense systems the same way Asgard did.

  Behind the final set of doors, the room’s ceiling was cathedral-high, and an enormous cylinder of pulsing blue light was encased in ice at its center. Loki felt the hair rise on the back of his neck, the strength of so much concentrated magic in a single space vibrating through him. A spindly bridge ran from the door to the walkway surrounding the Prism. It looked so delicate that Loki was sure it would crack beneath his and Thor’s weight. Beneath the bridge, water pooled, its surface glistening with chunks of ice. A thin trail of frigid water dropped from the ceiling and trickled down his back. He looked up. The ceiling above the bridge was lined with rows of icicles, translucent and trembling as though they were ready to fall. Their tips looked sharp as swords.

  Thor took a tentative first step onto the bridge. It crunched under his step, and they both winced, but the bridge held. Thor took another step, then another, until he was several feet from the doorway, and gave an experimental jump. The bridge trembled, but there was no crack. Nothing snapped beneath his feet. He turned back to Loki. “It’s stronger than it looks. Come on.” As he followed, Loki noticed Mjolnir in Thor’s hand, though he wasn’t sure what fight his brother was preparing for.

  Loki felt a prickle across his skin, a different sensation than the one raised by the Prism’s power. The creeping sense of a dread he couldn’t place was snaking through him, and he almost glanced behind them to see if someone was coming. It felt like they were being watched.

  “So.” Thor reached the walkway surrounding the Prism and spread his arms as he turned back to Loki. “We have breached the center of the Ice Court. Proven the Elves unfit to hold the Norn Stones. What do we do now?”

  Loki stepped up beside Thor and glanced down. In the cerulean light, his skin looked blue, his hands unfamiliar.

  “We could shut it down,” Thor said. “Or destroy it. That would likely be less technical. Though it might be a bit more hostile.... What’s the matter?”

  “Something’s wrong.”

  “What do you mean, something’s wrong? This was your idea.”

  Loki tried to take a step after Thor, but it was a struggle to lift his foot from the ground. Ice cracked, and he felt the cold shards through his trousers. He looked down. A thin film of ice had begun to form around the bottom of his boots. He kicked his feet free, trampling the ice back to snow. “In suggesting this idea, I did not say it would be entirely devoid of complications.”

  “Then let us proceed before we encounter them. Shall we—” Thor had started down the walkway, but then pulled up suddenly. He looked down, and when Loki looked too, he realized Thor’s leg was encased in a creeping skin of ice almost to the knee. Thor tried to thrash his way out, but the ice had him trapped. He growled with frustration and began to hack at it with Mjolnir, but the slow progress he made was undone as the ice kept creeping up his leg. His other foot was coated in it now too.

  “Loki! What’s happening?”

  Loki felt something tightening around his legs and looked down. His feet were caught in the ice, thick trunks of frigid crystals pinning him in place. He tried to pull free, but the ice was unrelenting. He conjured a ball of hot energy between his hands and attempted to melt the ice, but it regrew too quickly.

  Loki felt another drop of water on his head and he looked up. The ceiling seemed to be glowing orange, a color that felt so foreign in the anemic hues of the Ice Court he thought certainly it must be a trick of the light.

  Then the first icicle fell, puncturing a hole in the ice bridge leading back to the door.

  “This is a trap!” Loki slid his set of Asgardian blades from his sleeves, and jammed one hard into the side of the Prism, trying to pull himself up and out of the ice. He felt a wrench in his shoulders. Thor had managed to get one leg free with Mjolnir, but the ice was creeping up his torso on the other side. He grunted with effort, twisting around to get a better angle for a strike, but his hammer bounced off the ice. He thrust his hand in the air, urging Mjolnir to pull him free, but he was rooted as a tree.

  Another icicle fell and a section of the bridge was knocked into the ice below, sending jagged splinters flying in the air. Loki felt them sting his face. The next icicle knocked out the center of the bridge altogether. Long streams of water were dribbling down from the ceiling, freezing again as they struck the pools below.

  The ice was up to Loki’s waist now. He took a breath, trying to summon all the magic he could to blast it from him, but it was too strong and climbing up him too fast. It was constricting his chest, making it hard for him to breathe. And even if he had managed to break free, their only exit had been destroyed. The water below was rising as the icicles dropped into it, its surface turning foamy and white. Thor shouted in pain as the ice closed around his hand, still clutching Mjolnir, straining the bones of his fingers into a tighter and tighter fist.

  Then the doors to the Prism chamber flew open, and Loki heard shouting. He craned his neck and saw soldiers assembled, spears and bows all trained on him and Thor. In their center stood the Prince-General, his own blade drawn but held casually before him. He did not look surprised to see the Asgardian princes in the center of his fortress and up to their necks in ice.

  Loki’s heart sank. While he preferred capture over being swallowed by an icy river, this would mean Odin would certainly hear of what they had done. And this plan to show the strength of Asgard had turned into slightly more of an interdimensional incident than Loki had planned for.

  Beside him, Thor must have sensed what he was feeling, for he said softly, “Worry not, brother. Father will understand.”

  Odin did not understand.

  “After so many years”—he stared down at his sons, both kneeling before his throne with their heads bent; his gaze that could have melted the Ice Court to the ground—“of so many people devoting their lives to your tutelage, your study, your understanding of diplomacy, what insanity is it that compelled you to believe that the appropriate action in this situation was to stage an elaborate raid of the fortifications of an allied realm in an attempt to prove the unworthiness of their claim to a relic?”

  “It’s not their relic to claim,” Thor mumbled. Loki glanced over at him. He was glaring at the floor, picking at a loose thread on his trousers and looking more indignant than he had a right to in the middle of one of their father’s lectures.

  “Silence!” Odin slammed Gungnir on the ground, the clang of the spear on stone reverberating through the empty throne room. Loki felt the shudder in his knees, all the way through him. It rattled his teeth. Odin had not yet shared their failure with Frigga, or his advisors, or any members of the royal court, which was a small blessing. Prince-General Asmund had personally returned them to Asgard, both princes soaking wet and burned from the cold. He and his soldiers had marched them from the observatory down the Bifrost Bridge and into the throne room with a stride so purposeful that none of the posted sentries stopped them. The only small mercy was that, in the early dawn hours, few members of the court were there to witness their shame. Odin had to be woken from his bed, and was still in his robe as he stared down at them. Odin may
have been the only being in the Nine Realms who was able to look intimidating in his pajamas.

  Loki shifted on the hard stone. His knees, still not recovered from being encased in the ice for so long, were beginning to ache.

  “We were tricked,” Thor said, standing without invitation. Odin did not snap at him. Had it been Loki who stood, the hall would have echoed with Odin’s disapproval. “The Prince-General lured us to his court in an attempt to withhold his assistance unless we promised to surrender control of the Norn Stones to them.”

  “And in return,” Odin replied, “you attempted no negotiations, nor did you consult me. You committed an act of destruction and subversion.”

  “We were provoked,” Thor argued.

  “Of course you were provoked!” Odin replied. “My sons caught attempting to sabotage the power source of the Ice Court is a reasonable justification for saying that Asgard is unfit to retain its most powerful artifacts.”

  “Father—” Thor began, but Odin snapped, “Enough from you.”

  He adjusted his grip on Gungnir, then said, his voice lowered but still sharp edged, “You have disappointed me, my sons. Perhaps, in my age, and my hope that you would prove yourselves worthy of your birthright, I gave you too much responsibility too quickly.”

  “The idea was not mine,” Thor burst out. His cheeks were bright red, and a vein throbbed in his forehead. “Loki was the one who proposed it as a show of our strength. He orchestrated it.”

  Loki wondered, momentarily, what their father would do if he turned Thor into a ferret in the middle of the throne room.

  Odin’s eyes slid from Thor to Loki, his gaze slippery and flammable as an oil spill. “Is this true, Loki?”

  Loki, still on his knees, glanced up, first to his brother, who would not look at him, to his father, who was staring far too intently. Even if it had been his fault, Thor didn’t have to say it quite so bluntly. They could have at least shared the responsibility.

  “I had no choice but to go along with him,” Thor said.

  No, Loki decided, ferret was far too good for Thor. He’d rather turn him into a spider. Something small and irritating that could easily be squashed underfoot.

  “Loki,” Odin said.

  Loki swallowed, eyes still downcast. The sunlight through the throne room windows felt too bright and buttery against the golden tile. He wanted to close his eyes. “It’s true, Father.”

  “Very well.” Odin stared them both down for a moment, drumming his fingers against the handle of his spear. Then he said, “Thor, a king does not attempt to pass the blame for his actions to others. He accepts the consequences. A king is strong enough to take ownership of his mistakes, and admit when he has made a poor decision. He does not claim he had no choice, for he knows there is always a choice. You would do well to remember that.”

  “Yes, Father,” Thor mumbled.

  “And Loki...” Odin turned to him, and Loki swore he saw the circles under his father’s eyes darken. Odin heaved a sigh, then said, “Leave us please, Thor. I would like a private word with your brother.”

  Thor did not need to be told twice. He darted from the throne room, determinedly looking everywhere but at Loki. The door thudded behind him. Odin pushed himself up with the aid of Gungnir, then began to descend the stairs from his throne. His tread was heavy. “Rise, my son.” Loki obeyed. He was slimmer than his father, but close enough to the same height that he could look him in the eye when they stood on even ground. But Odin stopped two steps before the bottom so he was still looking down upon him. How was it that Odin had the sort of piercing gaze with only one eye that most men could not have achieved were they made of eyeballs?

  “We are given our instincts for a reason,” Odin said, and Loki braced himself for one of his father’s morality lectures that sounded profound until you actually tried to puzzle out what it meant. Most of his court would think the king’s words were simply too philosophical for them to understand, but Loki had endured them often enough to know they were usually nonsense.

  Odin went on. “Our instincts protect us. They keep us safe. Our first instincts come from our truest heart, the purest ore of our desires. And I worry, my son, that your instincts are corrupt.” Loki raised his head to argue, but Odin held up a hand. “I hoped very much that you were ready for this assignment. After years of studying with your mother, I wanted you to be ready. I wanted you to be worthy of such a task, and able to put your own foolish heart behind you to see it completed. I wanted this to be an opportunity for you to demonstrate that you are ready for further undertakings and the responsibilities that belong to members of the royal court. I fear I was wrong.”

  Loki clenched his jaw. Of course Odin’s parting words to Thor had been about the role of a king, but when he spoke to Loki, he barely treated him as a courtier.

  “The Ice Elves were plotting against us,” Loki said before he could stop himself.

  “So you felt it fair to plot in return?” Odin replied, the question somehow both rhetorical and sincere.

  Loki sucked in his cheeks. “I owed them nothing.”

  “You were guests in their court,” Odin said. “Diplomatic ambassadors. You owed them your respect. All your actions, your base instincts for the situation, were the opposite of how you should have behaved. There are some things that cannot be taught, and one is how to change our hearts. Our true selves always show themselves in the end.”

  A thousand retorts crossed Loki’s mind, ranging from It was your meat-headed golden boy who was ready to knock out the Prince-General over dinner to Maybe if you had been a more benevolent ruler of the Nine Realms, we wouldn’t have these diplomatic squabbles at all to If you would stop thinking of me as nothing more than the enemy you saw in the Godseye Mirror, perhaps you would have as much patience and forgiveness in your heart for me as you do for Thor.

  But all he said was, “Yes, Father.”

  Odin turned, heaving himself back up the stairs again, and called, with his back to Loki, “Thor and I will return to Alfheim to make a formal apology to the Ice Elves before we continue the hunt for the stolen Norn Stones.”

  The muscles in Loki’s thighs were burning. He wanted to run. “What about me?”

  Odin paused, face turned away. “You will remain here in Asgard.”

  Loki’s head shot up. “Father—”

  “You may continue your studies,” Odin said, like he hadn’t spoken. “And attend court meetings while we are away.”

  “Am I meant to be grateful for that?” Loki said, his voice laced with bitterness.

  Loki knew he shouldn’t say anything more. He was treading dangerous waters already. “I don’t want to stay here while you give Thor another opportunity to prove himself worthy to be king,” he said. Odin stopped, one hand now resting on the arm of his throne. Loki pressed on. “Give me another chance. Another chance to prove I am capable. My instincts are not corrupt, I simply made a mistake. I admit that. Is that not what you said a king should do?”

  Odin sank into his throne, running a hand over his beard as he studied Loki. “You think I have not given you adequate chances to prove yourself worthy of the crown?” he asked.

  Loki could feel the snare closing around him, but he answered anyway. “No, Father.”

  “And you ask me for another chance.”

  “Yes.”

  “Then you can take on one of the duties that your foolishness has robbed me of time to oversee. There is a question of magic on Earth—”

  “Midgard?” Loki snorted. “Never mind, I’ll stay on Asgard.”

  “You asked me for another chance,” Odin said.

  Loki resisted the urge to slam a fist into the throne room floor. Leave it to his father to turn his words backward upon him. “What assignment do you have for me on Midgard?” he asked through clenched teeth.

  “There is an organization there that monitors movement from other realms into theirs. The people of Midgard remain largely ignorant to the existence of realms beyond t
heir own, and we wish to keep it that way. They call themselves the SHARP Society.”

  “That’s a ridiculous name,” Loki muttered, but Odin either did not hear or ignored him.

  “They suspect a series of mysterious deaths in the city of London are a result of magical forces from another realm, and they were hoping for our support in an investigation.” He raised an eyebrow at Loki. “Does that not sound exciting enough for you? Death and magic?”

  Loki shrugged. “They’re just humans.”

  “Are their lives so much less important than yours?”

  Well, yes, they’re humans, Loki thought, but he didn’t say it.

  “You will travel to Midgard on my behalf,” Odin continued. “Meet with the SHARP Society and investigate their claims. You will offer them any advice and assistance they may require.”

  Advice and assistance. Thor was searching for the thief responsible for stealing one of Asgard’s most powerful magical artifacts, while Loki was being sent to smile and nod as humans acted hysterical in his general direction about how they were being murdered by Asgardians. Like Asgardians didn’t have better things to do.

  “You will return when I have deemed you worthy of a return,” Odin said.

  It was banishment in miniature. Sit in the corner until you’ve learned your lesson.

  Loki was plotting a way out of this, when Odin let out a long sigh, two fingers to his temple. Even the slope of his shoulders looked weary. He always looked weary these days, but this time he seemed to be specifically weary of Loki. “Do not test this kindness,” he said. “The effects of your foolish mistake will be great enough to justify a larger punishment. You should thank me for my mercy.”

  Loki stared at his father, his muscles clenching. He could have set the throne room on fire, but that seemed a little obvious.