A/N:

Many thanks to ye olde beta, Sophie. This was originally all meant to just be a bit of exposition, and then it turned into a fic of its own. Whoops.

I am drawing from a bunch of different stuff here. While I'm using the movie as a backdrop, there's stuff from various comic arcs and the Norse mythology thrown in for spice and flavour. Some things may be completely contradictory to certain bits of canon as a result, because they tend to all contradict one another from time to time. Basically, I've taken all the bits from each that I like and used that as the basis for something else.

Loki always fits a certain archetype, and as much as I like that, I don't think that his behaviour is any one person's fault. So this is sort of exploring his personality and actions without using Odin or Thor as a scapegoat for all that.

This is the first of what is planned to be a series of about five fics in which the actions taken in each story drive the Cinematic Universe specifically deeper and deeper into AU territory.

The battle had been long and bloody, faring many honourable casualties on both sides. But now it was finally over, and he could go to the temple to pay his respects and pray for the slain of that day. That day, Odin Allfather, king of the Æsir, was to show his honour and respect to both sides. It was not only the Æsir and Vanir warriors whose deaths created widows and orphans. The Jötun warriors also had families of their own; wives and children, just like any of the Æsir, including Odin himself, and it was for them Odin wished to pray. The final battle of that great war may have been on Jötun soil, but it was not the Jötun people's cause. It was their king, Laufey, whose greed and indifference knew no equal; Laufey who had declared war on Yggdrasil herself and invaded the world of men. It was Laufey had fled in cowardice when the Æsir and the Vanir so easily overtook the palace walls, leaving his men to die and their women to mourn.

It was Laufey's temple upon which Odin trespassed, deep within the royal grounds.

But even with the final battle over, the war would still not be declared over for some time. There was still much to do, and Odin's army was busy with the tasks of tallying the dead and transporting the wounded whilst Odin himself sought out the temple. He expected to find a scattered few within those frozen walls, seeking sanctuary, and he did — slaves and servants alike, and Odin did them the courtesy of pretending not to notice them as they fled from his presence. What he didn't expect to find, and yet found all the same, was a screaming purple-faced Jötun infant on the altar. As soon as he laid eyes upon the boy, Odin could see why he had been left, naked and unguarded. Though his own experience with Jötun offspring was negligible, he still recognised this one as much smaller and more frail than most. The boy was comparable to Æsir infants in size, if not appearance. But what the boy might have lacked in size, he made up for in spirit. He wailed loudly and threw his tiny limbs about, demanding attention from those around him.

Such a small child might have been allowed to live if born to peasants, but not to a king like Laufey. The Jötun king already had two healthy, strong heirs. One as small as this child would have been undesirable, and abandoned, untouchable. Laufey's subjects may have been forbidden to aid the child, but Odin was bound to no such law. He had seen enough death for one day, and would not stand to see an innocent baby fall victim to such a cruel practise. Without thinking, he picked up the child. The boy stopped crying and stared at him for a moment, before instinctively changing his appearance to that of an Ása child. As Odin wrapped the child in his cloak, he knew this boy would grow to be strong; one who could survive anything.

While even in infancy it took days for a Jötun child to expire from starvation, there was little knowing how long the boy had been left alone. Odin left his orders with Týr and made a swift return to Asgard, making no mention of the child he found. He knew of only one nursing woman he could trust to care for the child and not speak of him to anyone else, and went immediately to her.

Odin walked into the chambers unannounced, and at the sight of his wife and their own infant son at her breast, he knew he was making the right decision. His heart lifted at the sight of them.

"My queen," he greeted as he approached the royal bed.

Frigga looked up at him, her eye immediately drawn to the squirming bundle he carried. "What have you there?" she asked.

Odin gently sat next to her on the bed, and kissed his wife. He presented the infant, calm after the journey across the Bifröst, but not yet asleep. Within the safety of Odin's cloak, he had reverted back to his natural form, but as soon as his wide, curious eyes saw the Æsir enemy above him, his form slowly changed again.

"I found him in the temple," Odin explained as Frigga moved the infant Thor so she could take the Jötun boy from her husband.

The infant clutched at her with hands that were tiny even by Æsir standards. There was no question in Frigga's mind as to why he had been left in the temple in the first place.

"I believe him to be Laufey's."

Frigga's expression fell to alarm as she returned her gaze to Odin. "You took the son of your rival?" she asked.

Odin didn't even have to think about his response. "He would have died if I hadn't."

"Laufey will want him returned," Frigga warned.

"Laufey gave up his claim to the boy," Odin said. "He is no longer this child's father. Even if he did attempt to claim him, we would not be bound to honour it. It's not their practise to record their births. He would have no proof."

Frigga studied Odin for a long moment before finally nodding. Knowing the truth in her husband's words, she brought the boy to her breast.

"Be careful," Odin warned. "His teeth haven't yet cut, but they still have a hard bite."

Frigga looked down at both boys, settling them in her lap as best she could. "What are your plans for him?" she asked.

Odin looked down to the boy at Frigga's breast, not quite blue and not quite pink, and already showing signs of possessing powerful magic. Not for the first time since finding the child, Odin thought that with the right training, the boy could be an asset to Asgard. It was a dangerous line of thought, and Odin banished it from his mind. There were far more pressing matters at hand that required his attention.

"Find him a home," he declared. "A family who will care for him and raise him well."

"What do you — Oh!" Frigga grasped at her breast in shock. "You were not wrong. He is a very eager child."

For the first time in far too long, Odin allowed himself to smile. Too much time on the battlefield and away from his wife had hardened him in ways that, until that moment, he thought irreversible. But the sight of Frigga with their son in her lap and the boy Odin himself had rescued from Laufey's temple warmed him. For the first time in more than a season, Odin felt hopeful that things might once more return to normal.

"I'm sure any would be, if put in his place today," Odin said.

Frigga smiled warmly as she ran gentle fingertips over the boy's head. Odin watched this, knowing that she would not treat their own son any differently that she would this boy. Even as he nursed, the Jötun boy was still fighting, struggling against the sleep that threatened to fall upon him. He no doubt had just as trying a day as Odin himself, but he still wanted to see more of it. Odin could not help but think that if this were his own son, he would be proud to be his father.

"What do you plan to name him?" Frigga asked, breaking the contemplative silence that had befallen the bedchamber.

"I don't think that is our prerogative," Odin said. "Let his new family name him."

Frigga looked down at the boys and nodded. "Of course."

The days passed, and with each that came and went, Odin drew now closer to finding a suitable home for the son of Asgard's fallen enemy. The boy was born to a king and no ordinary household would be worthy of him. With each day that passed, Odin could see his wife grow more and more attached to the boy. And if Odin might allow himself, he would have admitted the same.

He had placed a glamour on the boy to make him appear Æsir and preserve the secret of his parentage from the nursemaids, but it made the boy fussy and intolerable. He would cry and kick and flail until the glamour was finally removed, which Odin was driven to by a pressing desire to have five minutes of quiet. After two days of such battle, Odin tried a different approach. He placed a spell upon the boy instead, designed to only hide his form in the presence of anyone other than himself or Frigga. The boy still railed against it whenever the change was forced upon him, and the sheer volume at which he complained was often enough to drive the nursemaids away quickly. As soon as the false form was released, the boy would return to his quiet, wide-eyed curiosity of the new world around him.

Only an infant, and already he knew how to speak his mind. At volume. It was an admirable trait indeed, and Odin once more felt a sense of misplaced pride for the boy.

By the time the treaties with Jötunheimr had been signed, Odin realised that the boy's fate had already been decided. There truly was no finer fit for the son of a king than within the palace itself. There, he would be protected and free to learn and use the gifts bestowed upon him at birth.

Having made his decision, Odin found Frigga with one of the nursemaids, attempting to bathe and clothe the infants. While Thor regarded the event as a game to be won at all costs, splashing the women and kicking everything within his reach to the floor, the Jötun boy regarded it as torture. His screams echoed off the walls as he fought against even the slightest touch by the nursemaid, and grew even louder when she tried to introduce the water to his skin.

Odin walked into the chambers and took the Jötun boy from the nursemaid, dismissing her. Thanking Odin, she fled. No sooner had she left the room, the boy quieted and ceased his unholy thrashing as the blue pallor returned to his skin.

"Loki," Odin declared. "It's a strong name for a Jötun, and this is a strong child."

Frigga looked up from where she was still struggling to convince Thor to be still long enough to be dried.

"You said it was not for us to name him," she said.

"Thor is to be presented to the court in two days' time," Odin said, moving the soap out of the way before it could be kicked to the floor again. "And when that happens, he shall be presented with a twin."

Frigga gave Thor a hard look, which did nothing to still him, instead drawing a giggle from the kicking infant. "And you think that will work?"

Odin once more contemplated his decision as he watched the infants. Thor was still no closer to being dry or clothed, and the Jötun boy had begun to examine Odin's beard by tugging on it.

"It is not a permanent solution," Odin admitted. "But it is an immediate one."

Frigga finally wrestled Thor into a thick linen cloth, which was about as good as the situation was likely to get for some time.

"And what about him?" she asked, nodding to child in Odin's hands. "He cries every time his form is hidden by your magic. Do you expect to hide this forever?"

For a fleeting moment, Odin thought he could. It certainly would be easier. But to do that, he would have to hide it from everyone, including the boy himself. If he did that, and the secret ever came out, he would earn an eternity of resentment. Odin knew only abstractly what it was to be Jötun from what little he had seen of his own father, but he still knew that Jötun were fiercely honourable, and could not tolerate untruth. To deny this boy that knowledge of himself would make Odin no better than Laufey. He might have given the child a chance at life, but that life would be a lie. For a Jötun, that was no life at all.

"No, I don't think that's right," Odin said, finally. "After they are presented, those closest will be made aware of the circumstances. Perhaps in time, Asgard might accept the idea and the need for secrecy will be no more. But for now, it's a secret we should do our best to keep."

"I trust your decision in this," Frigga said. "But he still needs to be washed."

Allowing a small smile to grace his features, Odin nodded and removed the tiny hands from his beard.

"Behave, boy. I'm going to name you so your mother can wash you," he said.

The boy gave him a considering look, like he was thinking about pulling Odin's beard anyway, just to see what would happen.

He performed the ritual with little ceremony, sprinkling water on the boy and whispering his name and a blessing into his forehead. With Loki named, Odin turned back to Frigga and passed the squirming infant over to his wife. He lingered in the chamber as she bathed and clothed the boy, already contemplating a permanent solution to the problems the immediate one would surely cause.

The two of them stood on their toes, trying to peer over the side of the cot at the squirming bundle within. Frigga had said that the new baby was their brother, but it didn't look like much of a brother. If anything, it looked squishy.

"It's so tiny," Thor observed.

"He," Frigga corrected. She looked far more exhausted than either Thor or Loki had ever seen her, and Loki wondered if that was the new baby's fault.

"What does he do?" Thor asked.

Frigga smiled patiently at him. "Nothing. He just is for now."

"Is he like me?" Loki asked. "Father says I was small."

It took a long moment for Frigga to answer him. "No, your brother is like Thor," she said finally. "Æsir babies all start out small."

"But he could be like me, couldn't he?" Loki asked. He sounded so hopeful in his question, Frigga was afraid her heart might break for him.

"As he grows older, he may be able to use the seiðr, as is the gift from your father," she conceded. "But only time will tell. He may have too much Æsir in his blood."

"Oh." Loki watched the new baby squirm and bubble away. "That's all right, then."

Frigga ran her hand over Loki's hair, black and slick unlike any Æsir's. "Of course it is."

"Does it have a name?" Thor asked.

"He," Frigga corrected.

"Does he have a name?" Thor said dutifully.

"Not yet."

Loki looked up at her, confused. "Doesn't he need a name?" he asked.

"Not yet," Frigga told him. "But it was almost three cycles of the moons before you had one. Sometimes, these things aren't to be rushed."

"What about me?" Thor asked eagerly.

"Your father knew exactly what to call you from the moment you were born," Frigga said fondly. "You woke the entire palace. There was only one name suitable."

Thor beamed proudly, and while the words Frigga spoke were the truth, they felt like the greatest lie to tell her children. In time, Loki would be old enough to understand the truth to why he was unnamed for so long, but Frigga knew that to tell him then would only confuse and frighten him.

It could wait just a little bit longer.

"When will he do things?" Thor asked suddenly, reaching into the cot to prod at the infant within.

Frigga gently stopped his hand and pulled him away.

"When he's ready," she told him. "And not a moment sooner."

The two princes of Asgard stood behind Odin, listening to their father's telling of the last great war. It was a story they had by then heard a great many times already, but never told quite like this. The stories they had heard were from the warriors who had been in battle, told round the table during supper. Odin did not speak of mindless beasts that walked upright and used the seiðr like cowards. Instead, he spoke of skilled and formidable warriors forced to fight for an unjust cause. It was their king, Odin explained, that was the evil in the tale. Not the warriors, who were only doing as they were trained and acting on their king's orders.

Odin spoke of the final battle, how it took place on Jötunheimr itself and how it had lasted half a dozen days. Thor and Loki both listened to the story with amazement in their eyes, eager to hear more of it.

"Is that where I came from?" Loki asked.

Odin nodded. "It is."

"What about me?" asked Thor. "Where was I?"

Odin regarded Thor with barely-veiled incredulity. "You were at home. Where you belonged."

Thor frowned, disappointed in this answer. "Oh."

"Then why was I at the battle?" Loki asked. He looked down at his hands, pink and Æsir like the rest of him. He hated this skin. It didn't fight right and it itched, but Odin made him wear it whenever he left the nursery. "Did they do something to me that makes me different?"

"Was he stolen?" asked Thor with new excitement.

"No," Odin said, growing irritable from Thor's increasingly outlandish questions. "Where do you get such ideas?"

"Volstagg tells stories at supper," Thor said.

Before Odin could comment on the wisdom of believing any of Volstagg's stories, Loki spoke up again with new urgency. "Was I stolen?" he asked quickly, eyes wide.

"No," Odin insisted, certain this would bring on another round of nightmares in the boy, and just after they had quelled his fears of the Eldjötnar and their armies from Muspelheimr. "You were not stolen. You were born there to Jötun parents. I found you in a temple. Sometimes, if Jötun parents can't care for a child, they place it in a temple for someone else to find."

"What if no-one finds it?" Thor asked, far more eagerly than the topic of conversation should have allowed.

"What if no-one wants it?" Loki asked frantically. "Or what if you didn't find me and what if I died?"

Odin considered the possibility that his sons were still far too young to be having this conversation, accepted the possibility, and took the only course of action he saw fit.

"I think I hear your mother calling you," he said, cocking his head.

Thor and Loki exchanged the briefest of glances before running in the direction of Frigga's weaving room, leaving Odin to wonder if his talk with the boys could have possibly gone any worse.

Midgard was nothing like Asgard. The air was cold and the ground hard and covered in frost. The boys both clung to their father, secretly regretting the decision to ask to come along on this journey, but neither wanting to admit it. They had begged and insisted for so long, and to turn back now would be an admission of defeat. Odin knew they were both too young to properly appreciate or understand the purpose of the day's journey to the realm of men, but he also knew this would likely be their only chance to see this bough of Yggdrasil, and did not wish to deprive them of such an opportunity.

"Loki, you should not be here," Thor said, elbowing Loki in the ribs and trying to sound as if he wasn't still afraid of the great elk that had charged them as they left the Bifröst site.

"I can be here just as much as you can," Loki argued, nudging back with skinny elbows.

"No," Thor insisted. "Father said he would rid Midgard of all the frost giants—"

Odin cuffed Thor round the ear. "Do not speak of your brother that way," he scolded. "Those are not words I wish to hear from you again. I don't care who you heard them from."

Thor frowned dramatically as he rubbed his ear. "Well, you did say that."

"I did say I would keep the Jötnar out of Midgard, yes," Odin said. "But that was in judgement for Laufey and for Jötunheimr. Loki is of Asgard and so the judgement does not apply."

Loki leaned round his father and stuck his tongue out at Thor.

"Be careful, Thor," he taunted. "I think I hear another elk approaching."

Thor looked round wildly, but there was no elk anywhere near. Only the sound of Loki's laughter carried through the sparse trees.

"Enough," Odin said. "Both of you. It is not too late for me to send you home."

"Sorry, Father," both boys said, not quite in time with one another.

They fell back into step beside Odin as he led them through the wood. Eventually, they came to a small village nestled against a stream. Odin walked purposefully to a squat tavern at the edge of the village and ushered the boys inside, bidding them be quiet unless spoken to. Being still early in the day, the tavern was quiet and little occupied, but in the farthest corner, beneath the stairs, sat three men. The one in the middle bore a similar age and countenance to Odin, and Thor and Loki knew him at once as another king. The Allfather made a path to them, keeping his hands on either of his sons' shoulders lest they wander away. As they reached the table, the elder of the other three stood in greeting.

"Esus," said Odin.

"Borson," said the other, his gaze unflinching in the face of the Allfather. "We thank you for this meeting. And you have brought your sons?"

Odin nodded once. "It's time they learned the ways of these things. They are Thor and Loki." As Odin spoke their names, he placed a heavy hand atop their heads. It was a gesture he always made when introducing his sons to other gods and kings, but it still caused Thor and Loki to squirm slightly under the touch.

The man on the left of the other three smiled at the introductions. He was much younger than Esus, and of a similar age to the third of their group.

"Odin's Jötun son," he said.

Loki looked up at his father, unsure and scared all at once at someone outside the palace knowing this secret. But Odin didn't appear upset at this other man's words, so Loki nodded slowly.

"Aye," he said, still wary.

"There is a prophecy about you, is there not?" the man asked.

Loki started to look back to his father for an answer, but Odin was quick to speak.

"There are many prophecies about all of us," he said. "Though none have been verified."

Esus smiled, politely but without mirth. "Of course," he said. "And these are my own sons, Taranis and Toutatis." He introduced them much the same way Odin introduced Thor and Loki, placing a hand on either's shoulder as he spoke their names.

As Esus and his sons took their seats, Odin guided the boys to sit on either side of himself. Before Odin's seat was a tankard of mead, which Loki curiously peered into.

"I took the liberty," Esus said. "Had I realised you were bringing your sons, I would have provided for them as well."

"Thank you," Odin said with a slight bow of his head.

"May I, Father?" Loki asked, curious to see what Midgardian men drank.

Odin approached the request in the same way he handled Loki's need to try everything for himself. It was far easier to let the boy decide for himself that he didn't like something than to convince him not to do it in the first place.

"Yes, but I don't think you'll like it," Odin said.

Loki picked up the tankard with both hands and brought it to his mouth, careful not to spill any of it down his front. When it became clear that Loki didn't find the drink as repulsive as Odin had implied, Thor reached for the tankard.

"I want to try," he demanded. "If he gets some, so do I."

As Loki passed the mead over to Thor, Esus began to speak.

"The men of this realm are becoming problematic," he said. "Their holy crusades only grow more violent as their kings gain more confidence."

"Augh, Loki!" Thor cried out, spluttering. "This is vile. How do you drink it?"

"Maybe I'm just tougher than you," Loki said, matter-of-factly.

"Enough," Odin said sternly. He took the tankard from Thor and put it well out of both his sons' reach. "From both of you."

Thor and Loki shifted awkwardly as Odin returned his attention to Esus.

"I have only heard little of it, I must confess," Odin said once he was sure the boys would remain silent. "Those followers of my teachings have become few and very far between. I have little reason to visit this realm lately."

"It becomes worse than that," Esus said. "These people see their gods not as leaders and teachers, but now as the solution to all their problems. They do not act for themselves, but rather expect us to act for them."

Odin nodded. "I have heard the prayers," he said. "What know you of the new pantheon?"

"It isn't," Taranis spoke up. "It's only a trinity, and not so new. It only just grows more influential."

Toutatis shrugged. "I have attempted to make contact, but to no avail. The Olympians have been unsuccessful as well."

Odin frowned at this. It was not the first time contact between the gods had been denied, but that didn't make Odin like the situation any more. Odin looked to his sons, and saw by the way they fidgeted that it was just a matter of moments before they started in at one another again.

"I think it's time Esus and I spoke privately," he said.

Taranis and Toutatis both nodded and rose to their feet.

"Come along, varlets," Taranis said as he and his brother ushered Thor and Loki outside.

In the short time they had spent inside, snow had begun to fall, leaving a light blanket over the village. Loki immediately wandered away from the tavern to play in the snow, relishing this opportunity so rarely had on Asgard.

"What do you think they will decide?" Thor asked, ignoring his brother. He had no desire to play in such cold conditions, especially when he could speak to these men as though he was one of them. He stood up straighter, almost up to Toutatis' shoulder.

Taranis climbed up onto a low wall and sat upon it. "They're going to lock Earth off from the other worlds," he said. "Or at least campaign for it. I heard my father talking about it last night."

"They can't do that," Thor protested.

"They can certainly try," Taranis said.

"What about us?" Toutatis asked as he kicked up a narrow trough in the snow. "Where will we go? Surely the others won't agree to this if we're allowed to stay."

"We were here first. They can't make us leave," Taranis said. "We've done nothing wrong. It's them that cause the problems." He gestured widely, indicating all those around them.

Thor smiled broadly. "Perhaps you could go to Niflheimr. Its weather should be familiar to you, if this is what you like."

He was answered by a hard-packed snowball to the back of the head. He turned, expecting to find one of the Celt brothers responsible for the missile, but found his own brother instead.

"Loki!" he shouted.

"I'm sorry. Were you standing there?" asked Loki, standing several paces away still and grinning widely. "I didn't see you there."

Thor picked up a handful of snow and lobbed it at Loki, but his target was quick to jump out of the way and the snow hit Toutatis instead.

Without warning, Taranis jumped down from his perch atop the wall and joined the fray in defence of his brother. While they had the advantage of size on their side, and they were from a race of warriors to rive the Æsir, Thor and Loki had their own advantage. They slipped easily through hidden paths and along the trails beneath the trees at the edge of the village, quickly out-pacing their foes.

Loki soon slipped from view again, climbing into a tree and hiding amongst its boughs. There he stayed, silent and watchful as Thor drew Taranis and Toutatis ever closer with well-aimed but poorly-packed handfuls of snow.

Finally Thor drew Toutatis beneath the bough on which Loki was perched. As Toutatis bent to pick up more snow to throw at Thor, Loki bounced hard on the branch, sending all the snow upon it crashing down onto his rival. Amidst Loki's squealing laughter and Toutatis' indignant cries, Taranis and Thor both heard the sounds of splintering wood. As they each called their brothers' names the bough gave one final crack and fell to the ground with Loki still on it.

"Loki!" Thor shouted, running toward him.

He found Loki staring wide-eyed up into the remaining branches above, his limbs tangled in the broken bough around him.

"Let's not do that again," Loki said flatly.

"You ass," Thor complained, delivering a weak kick into Loki's thigh. "I thought you were hurt."

"I told you," Loki said as he struggled to his feet. "I'm tougher than you."

"You're a whelp. Get up so I can kill you for scaring everyone."

With Loki on his feet again, Thor began picking twigs and grit from his hair, frowning as the slickness that never seemed to wash out now made everything seem sticky.

"Everyone all right?" Taranis asked after making sure his own brother was unharmed.

"We are fine," Thor answered.

Taranis watched the two of them for a long moment before nodding and turning his attention to the tree above them.

"I wonder why it broke," Toutatis asked, voicing Taranis' unspoken question. As far as either of them could see, the tree was perfectly healthy and should have been able to handle a bit of rough play from a young boy.

"Perhaps we should go inside," Taranis said, suddenly. "I think I fancy some spiced ale."

Odin eventually left Esus' table to find his sons on a large bear rug in front of the fire. Thor was slowly tearing the bark from a small branch, tossing the pieces into the flames while Loki slept sprawled across his lap. Odin knew both his lads were strong and would only grow more so, but in these moments especially, he had to remind himself that Loki would always be different. While every day, Thor grew bigger, Loki was slow to develop beyond his awkward boyish form. Seeing the two of them so close together exaggerated their differences, making Loki seem even smaller than he was.

When he slept, as he did then, his body lost its hold on the glamour Odin had taught him. It was magic Loki had always known, but calling upon it at will took some effort still. While at home, within much of the palace save the most common areas, Loki was not made to hold his Æsir form, it was dangerous not to do so on Midgard. The humans had already forgotten that they were not alone in the Universe and would surely try to strike down one as different from them as Loki.

Thor moved to wake Loki, seeing that his father was ready to leave, but Odin reached out to stay his hand.

"No," he said. "Let him sleep. It would be easier that way."

Odin removed his cloak and draped it over Loki before gently lifting him from the ground, willing him to stay asleep despite the movement. Under the guise of making sure Loki's head was comfortably rested on Odin's shoulder, he looked round to be sure that none around them had seen exactly what had transpired. Satisfied that none had, Odin led Thor from the tavern and back through the woods to the Bifröst site. Every year, Midgard's connection to the bridge would travel further and further to the realm's west, and soon would be lost to one of Midgard's endless seas. But the thought was not as troubling for Odin as it could have been. He knew the decision that was to be made, and what it would mean for the realm. What it would mean for all the realms.

"Father," Thor asked suddenly, trying to kick off the snow that was stuck to his boots. "How is Loki my brother if he's Jötun?"

Odin was saddened to hear this question from his son, but not surprised by it. He had long known that his honesty might at first confuse the lads, but he had the foresight to know that any early confusion was a far better price than anything secrecy would bring about.

"He is your brother because I say he is," Odin declared simply.

"But not by blood," Thor pointed out.

"No," Odin said. "There was no need for it. But if, as men, you two decide there is, you can always create that bond."

Thor nodded and trudged on alongside his father. He looked up at Odin, the great man carrying Loki in defiance of his own harsh image. The small hand that poked out from beneath the edge of the cloak may have been blue and oddly-marked, but even with this form, Thor could still recognise it as Loki's.

"Father," he said again.

"Yes, Thor?"

"He's drooling on you."

Odin craned his neck to see and rolled his one remaining eye.

"So he is," he said.

It was Volstagg who found them beneath the window of the throne room. Sif and Hnossa stood close by, watching anxiously as Thor lifted Loki onto his shoulders, grumbling all the while.

"How can you be at once so small and yet so heavy?" he asked.

"Shut up, lest someone catch us," Loki hissed back. "They're talking about Midgard. I want to hear."

Inside, Loki could see Odin and Esus, as well as several others he did not recognise. Matters of the realms were often kept as such — between the realms themselves — but this was surely far greater an issue than had been witnessed for some time, to bring about kings from beyond Yggdrasil.

"We were there for a day," Thor protested. "What do you care about it?"

"I care because it's important." Loki stamped his foot into Thor's shoulder, making him yelp. "Now hush or we'll get caught."

"Your brother's right, you know."

At the sound of the adult voice, Thor spun round so quickly that Loki lost his balance and fell noisily to the ground. When he realised what had happened, Thor reached down to help Loki to his feet, all the while not taking his eyes from the massive warrior who caught them spying on what was meant to be a private meeting.

"Those are the men who are to decide whether the Nine Realms become eight," Volstagg said. "And had you not complained quite so loudly, I might not have heard you as I passed."

Loki smiled smugly at the validation. Thor responded by kicking him in the ankle.

"Now come on. You shouldn't be here."

Volstagg herded the small group of children away from the high wall of the throne room and into an open garden. Knowing they had already been caught doing what they weren't supposed to be doing, none protested, going silently where they were bid.

"Asgard has no place for spies," Volstagg told them once they were out in the open. "There's no honour in it."

"My father says the frost giants employ spies," Sif said.

"They have no honour either," Hnossa added. "That's why they use magic when they fight."

Loki grit his teeth and glared at both of them. He wanted to shout at them — to pull their hair and kick and bite and hit until they took back their words. Thor saw all of this in his brother, even if no-one else did. He put his hand on Loki's arm, reminding him where they were. Loki trembled under his grasp, but Thor held his grip.

"What of Gungnir?" Thor asked. "Gungnir is magic and my father uses it. And Heimdall only guards the Bifröst because he was given the magic to do so. Are they without honour?"

"Do not speak ill of my brother!" Sif shouted.

She launched herself at Thor, but Volstagg was quick despite his size and put himself between the two children.

"We'll have none of that now," he said.

He cast a warning glance around the group, and when his eyes fell on Loki, he saw the intent behind Thor's words. There was a darkness to the boy then, and to the way he glared at Sif. Volstagg had long heard the rumours within the court, but at that moment, he knew not only the truth to them, but the depth as well. Odin's slim little dark-haired child was the truth to those rumours, and both he and Thor knew it. Loki was not quite the spy and traitor amongst the ranks the Einherjar had feared, and Volstagg would have laughed if not for the current situation that quickly spiralled out of his control.

"He said Heimdall is without honour," Sif said. "You heard it."

"No," Volstagg disagreed. "He could have perhaps used better words, but he was pointing out that not everyone who uses magic is the enemy."

"But frost giants are the enemy," Hnossa said. "My father said there's one hiding in the court."

"What does your father know?" Loki asked indignantly. "He's not even here. You might as well not even have one."

This time, it was Hnossa's turn to shriek and throw herself forward. Loki moved quickly to put himself behind Volstagg and out of Hnossa's path, glad to have managed to hurt her despite not being able to kick or bite. Hnossa tried to move around to get at the young prince, but Volstagg held her in her place, trying to glare menacingly at Loki at the same time.

"But there is," Hnossa said heavily. "And it will be the son of Jötunheimr and the son of Asgard who leads Hel's forces and burns Yggdrasil to dust."

All in the group stopped to stare at Hnossa then, including Volstagg. Hers were not the words of a child; not then. It was prophecy she had spoken, and Volstagg recognised it as such.

"I think you ought to come with me, little one," he said.

He released his grip on her and led her away from the group and into the palace. As they disappeared around a corner, the remaining three looked awkwardly at one another.

"Why would she say that?" Thor wondered aloud.

"Because frost giants are the enemy," Sif said. "Don't you know anything?"

Again, Loki bristled and Thor held his hand so tightly it hurt. Loki still wanted to make Sif hurt; to make her sorry for her words, but Thor held him back by crushing his hand. If he was bigger, Thor wouldn't be able to hold him back so easily, and then he would be able to make Sif sorry.

"Come on, Loki," Thor said. "Let's go find a game to play."

He tugged a still blazing Loki along, not sure where he was leading them, other than away from everyone else for a while.