Loki stops pacing in his almost empty cell. Though he looks hesitant, he ends up plucking a book out of a few the All-Mother managed to bribe some guards to give to him.

He lays down on the floor and opens to the middle of it. Never one to be mainstream by starting at the beginning, nor one to be rebellious by starting at the end, he does his own thing by always beginning somewhere in the middle of the action.

Fandral sneaks a glance at his watch. It reads 5:08 AM. Then he sighs.

Tomorrow, he concludes, would be a better time to visit. He stands and follows each shadow until he sneaks undetected back out towards the stairs.

He thinks he has a plan that may work. He just needs to talk to Thor, or worst case scenario ask for an audience with the Queen. For the latter situation he would have to think of a way to be subtle so as not to disrespect the Queen's privacy.

But he sees Hugin and Munin out of the corner of his eyes as he treads towards the pathway home. They soar over the trees, blissfully free to adventure, yet they remind him of a variable he overlooked thus far: Odin All-Father.

So now he must be stealthy with talking to Thor or the Queen, and be stealthy when he sneaks in to speak to Loki. Getting caught would be brought up against him as treason since Loki is not to speak to anyone by orders of the King.

Four hours later he meets his warrior friends. Though he was not well rested, he had made sure to have a hearty breakfast. His belly is as full as his confidence, which is why he skips the usual warmups and quips with Volstagg to start with Thor.

"Come on, Thor! Put your back in it."

"I am," the golden prince grunts as he swings his sword towards the dashing. Fandral ducks out of its way with a step back.

He tusks a few times. "It seems you are not. I told you fighting only with Mjölnir would have you forget sword-wielding skills."

Thor laughs, then looks down at the weapon. "Perhaps I should use one for beginners. I admit I am rather slow."

Oh yes, all the Warriors and Sif know how he's slow in more than one way. After Loki's private trial the prince would not practice for four feasts afterwards. It was his father who commanded him to pick it up again. They also saw Thor pacing next to the stairwell that led down to the dungeons more than once. Then there was also his random bursts of anger and exasperation, which lessened once All-Father began sending him and his friends to bring peace to the riling realms again while the Bifrost was being rebuilt.

Others would say he had healed, but all of them knew that was far from the truth. They felt the gaping void of one of them missing, albeit the quiet, tricky one of them that was mostly ignored, but if that was their case then it went without saying that Thor felt that void ten times stronger than they. Spending a millennium with someone and to have them ripped away hurt worse than the gravest wound.

Still, Fandral chooses to keep the spirits up. He takes a beginner sword with Thor, then the two pick up their unspoken competition again. Volstagg and Hogun cross their arms and watch.

"Sloppy," the big one observed aloud to Fandral's awkwardly blocking a hit.

"Have you ever searched that beard of yours? That is sloppy, my friend."

Hogun the Grim grunts in approval. Volstagg pretends he's scratching his chin while he combs through his beard. Meanwhile, Thor loses his grip on his sword; it clatters to the ground. Volstagg chooses to say nothing. He waits until Fandral and the prince get in position to begin anew to speak.

"Boy, have you seen the state of your hair? Which brothel did you escape to this time?"

"That would have to remain a mystery," he says, a teasing smile dancing on his lips.

"Why so?"

"Because why would I tell you? That would mean I would lose ownership of my fine women."

That gets Thor to chuckle. The two pause their spar. "Now I am curious. You look as if you have not rested. Were the women that fantastic then I must command you to share."

"No, no, he was not with any women last night. He is too serious. I can see it in his eyes."

Fandral grins. "I knew my face was too pretty for you to not keep to memory. Tell me, do you dream of me often?"

"Norns!" Thor snorts.

Volstagg stands taller with a chiding expression on, but his eyes betray his amusement. "Indeed I do. I imagine disfiguring its agitating perfection until it is but a pulp."

"I would be the most handsome of the land still."

"You went to the dungeons," Hogun states out of the blue. "You have its mire on your shoes."

Thus, the banter dies. Thor holds the grip of his sword so tight that the sound of it crushing between his fingers fills the momentary silence. Volstagg swallows so loud it makes them all feel it.

Fandral's smile slowly melts into a serious straight line as he meets Hogun's emotionless gaze. He stares at his sword for a moment.

"I did," he whispers.

Volstagg sucks in a breath. "Why in all of the Nine Realms? It is treason to speak with him." His gaze darts to Thor, whose eerie stillness strangles them all.

"I – Gods, I just need to know."

"Know what? We know enough."

Then Thor drops his sword and walks away. Walks. Away. And Fandral feels his chest constrict because Thor has never walked away like that. And he wonders if this all was a terrible, terrible idea.

"Indeed," says Hogun once the prince is out of earshot. "He is no friend."

"There is more to that. He is insane, Fandral. He is not who we knew anymore."

That makes Fandral's veins combust into oceans of flames. He spins and sticks the dull sword against Volstagg's chest.

"How the Hel do you know?"

"How do I know he's insane? He survived the Void you imbecile! And tried to subjugate Midgard."

"Almost killed Thor," adds Hogun.

Fandral sighs and tosses his weapon down. "No, listen. We missed something. Something happened that we do not know. Do you remember us being in the healing chambers after Thor's exile?" Volstagg nods but Hogun continues to glare. "He kept staring at his arm."

The big one rolls his eyes. "Yes, and then confessed to betraying his own brother. We were there."

"And more competent," adds Hogun.

Fandral shakes his head. "No. He blew up at us. At Sif specifically, but at all of us nonetheless. Then the next time we saw him he was on the throne in his father's place, and quite in a mood."

"What is the point to this reliving, boy? 'Tis all a nightmare to remember."

"Why? You scorn him thus?" the dashing mocks, "Lot of a friend you were."

To which Volstagg's hands curl into fists. "I bloody loved that sardonic brat too, you fool. I was amongst the mourning."

"Yes, you and Lady Sif shared such good drinks. I remember."

Volstagg closes the space between them, ears practically fuming. "Does that petty mind of yours recall how many servings I had? 20. I had bloody 20. I have never in my life eaten that much at once."

"Oh, your poor belly."

"Well you certainly were not weeping with your women."

Fandral shoves his friend backwards. "Do not mistake my libido for apathy!"

Volstagg shoves him off his feet. "As I told you not to mistake my appetite for it!"

Then, Einherjar surround the three. Even Hogun looks stunned.

"Fandral," summons one.

"Yes?" he whisperes.

"The All-Father requests your presence." He's about to accept with a fake smile, but when the guards wrap his wrists together with a chain of seidr, he can't even pretend anything.

"Norns," Volstagg says under his breath as Fandral stands in shock staring at his chains. The big one's eyes land on Thor who lingers in the distance, staring out to the glistening path of the Rainbow Bridge. If it is not he who reported Fandral, then: "Odin have mercy."

#

Odin sits on Hlidskjalf in his full regal attire once the doors open. The guards push Fandral into the otherwise empty room, then leave with Odin's passive dismissal. The warrior kneels even as his fear capsizes.

Fandral the Dashing gulps as the All-Father rises after moments of staring silence. He strikes Gungnir, whose resulting thud vibrates across the vast golden hall.

"Fandral Newlyson, rise." He does, trembling. "Do you know why you have been summoned?"

"No, my King."

Odin stares a moment again, then: "It is punishable by flogging to lie in the presence of your king, by death to lie to him. Would you like to rephrase your answer, boy?"

Fandral gulps again. "I-I think yes."

"On with it then."

"Treason."

Odin blinks once, then begins descending the stairs. "Correct. Loki is a prisoner, but he is still a special case. I see all that trespasses in his section." He stops a few feet in front of the sweating warrior. "I saw you in the shadows."

With the glare the All-Father's giving him, Fandral knows it's his turn to say something. He grasps at the edges of his composure to find an excuse minus the obvious answer, but decides it would be too exhausting to formulate, so he tells the truth.

"I wanted to know why. I need to know why."

And he swears he's going insane himself because he sees the hint of a smile tugging at the All-Father's lips before the warrior of old turns to walk aimlessly.

"What causes have you educed?"

He closes his eyes. Wrong word choice could get him killed. "Perhaps um, perhaps...doubt."

"What else?" Odin asks, his tone unconvinced.

"Uh..." He combs back to the scene in the healing chambers to find an emotion behind that cracking mask of the younger prince. "Pain—no, forgive me—fright—no damn it that is not what I meant to say."

Fandral takes to kneeling again in a rush. Blond tendrils stick to his beaded forehead. "Forgive me, my King. I cannot find the right words. I beg your pardon. I mean no dishonor."

Odin remains silent. Worse yet is that he stands as if frozen. Fandral chooses to remain silent until the All-Father breaks the ice.

"Loki is a Frost Giant," he finally says. "You are not wrong to label his emotions."

It takes minutes for Odin's words to soak into his mind, but once they do, he almost swears his soul out in crude strings.

"Would you please repeat that, my King?"

Odin spins around, his one eye strangely glazed over. "I said Loki is a Frost Giant. He is pained and very afraid."

Then is when the mind blowing epiphany hits. With the central piece of the puzzle now plugged in, Fandral shivers as all the facts he knows fall into place around it. Now it seems he can trace the younger's blackened soul from his downfall, through the Void, and up to the sight of Thor leading his shackled shadow of a body towards the All-Father down the Rainbow Bridge. It seems Odin knows exactly what the dashing warrior plugs together behind his distant blue eyes.

"What say you now?" he asks once Fandral blinks back into the present.

The warrior's guts wretch. "A...Frost Giant. That—those beasts. He is one."

"A beast? Hmm." With the warrior being too stunted to say anything else, the All-Father begins walking circles around him. "Fandral Newlyson, I could charge you for treason for disobeying my order: that Loki Odinson cannot speak to anyone without my prior approval. But you are as worthy a friend as I can find. That is, are you still a friend now?"

Fandral fades back into Jotunheim. He feels the arm of the prince holding him up as his chest bleeds out. He remembers the younger telling Sif to take over. Then he sees the prince stop, hears him yell to Thor that they must go. But the most difficult part about the flashback is seeing crimson eyes over his shoulders; blue arms pushing against his open wounds to stop the bleeding; enemy colored thighs and knees being the pillars to keep him from spilling out onto cursed Jotunheim snow.

He does not know what to think, what to feel, but his heart makes up his mind for him. He nods, swallowing horrid bile. All-Father knows the nod is a fallback, but he pretends he does not. It will take time to come to terms with but he knows this friend of Thor's is as loyal to his friends as he is to his kingdom. If Loki had any friend of his own, then it was Fandral (as far as he knew).

"I shall tell you his weaknesses this eve. In exchange, you will spend the twilight hours speaking to him. I shall be watching as I have been. If you agree, then I will drop my charge of treason. Do you have any questions?"

"So you will give me permission to speak to him?"

"No. You will sneak in as you did last night and I shall pretend to be curious enough to indulge you. No one, especially Loki, is to know a word of what we discussed here. Not of his heritage; not of our plots. Understood?"

"Yes, my King. If I may be so bold as to—"

"Spit it out, son."

"Why do you not speak to him?"

Which makes the warrior of old almost sigh. "I did. He is beyond reason with his family. Even with Frigga. His hatred for us runs deeper than I feared it one day could... That, and I fear I am prone to hotheadedness in the face of his newfound stubbornness. I cannot risk saying more to him until he has softened for his own sake.

"But do not mistake me, boy. I am furious with him, with his actions and his madness as much as I was with Thor's. I have prepared a solitary cell in the lowest dungeons to disciple him, and will not save him from it and it's tortures if he does not soften where he is now. However, I held him when he was but a babe; watched his small feet chase mine down this room; fretted when he and Thor were far from home. He is a child of my heart if not my blood. I wish for answers more than anyone, but most of all I wish to see my son breathing behind the costume of that criminal."

Fandral tries not to react to Gungnir shaking in the All-Father's grip. He nods. "I understand, my King."

"Good. Then you are released, but first—" Odin reaches into his pocket dimension, bringing out a bowl of bite sized red velvet cakes with cream cheese frosting, "—take this to him. Spin a tale that his mother baked them for him."

Fandral's seidr chains fall as he takes the full porcelain bowl. "I have heard no one bakes this like she."

"Of course not. She never did." At Fandral's surprised look, Odin chuckles. "Do not tell Loki. As far as he knows it is his mother's special treats. It shall stay that way."

#

Night falls. Fandral plots.

By 1 AM he is as exhausted as a war horse, but he drinks a generous amount of wine, then sneaks to the dungeons. He steals (in cahoots with the All-Father of course) a quilt the Queen had sown together for the younger recently. With the covered bowl of treats and the quilt together in a ransack, he skips the safety of the shadows, opting to let Loki see him coming.

The younger does. He lets his swirls of seidr dissipate and stares. Fandral feels the weight of his hawk-like blues dissecting everything about him. It makes his insides shutter, but he pretends to not mind it. Instead, he sits criss-cross in front of the humming barrier.

The two stare for minutes straight until the younger breaks the silence.

"You should not be here."

The warrior holds his grin at bay. "When has that stopped me?"

Loki's nose twitches. He rises and walks to the edge next to Fandral, where he sits again. "Tell me, did the bloody oaf tell you to come?"

"No."

Fandral notes the maniacal grin. "Did the Queen?"

"Actually, I came of my own accord."

That makes Loki lean backwards and raise his chin with a death glare. It makes bile rise to his throat again. Unbidden, he sees crimson eyes and blue skin. He curses himself mentally because by the mischievous smirk forming on the prince's lips, his shock had trickled to the outside. Fandral does not bat another lash as he transitions to damage control.

"I need to ask you some questions."

"To mock? To gloat?"

"No, because I want to understand."

Loki laughs. It comes out like a whisper, but it's deepness and cruelness carries through a canyon until it ricochets off the walls of the stinking dungeons. He swallows rocks, back tingling at the madness underlining the laugh.

The prince rises. He rests his hands behind his back as he saunters about his almost empty cell. "You and all the rest never wished to do so when I was one of you. I do not care for your pity, or your so-called friendship, Asgardian. You may leave."

"I admit I was a terrible comrade, but I wish to mend that."

"Yet each time the poor boy called wolf you did not come. Leave me be."

Fandral blows his locks out of his eyes. The air of stubbornness agitates him more than anything. "Loki, I am not leaving. If I chose to risk treason then I will pull answers out of you."

The prince stops and turns to face him. The death glare is back, multiplied in intensity by a billion. "Leave, insipid vermin. I will give you nothing. Drown in that petty guilt of yours, I care not."

The warrior stares deep into irises marred by maliciousness. "No. It was Jotunheim that changed you, was it not?"

The cruelty in dead eyes softens into anger. Fandral prepares for another hatred-fueled insult, but instead Loki flicks his fingers. A screen of blackness forms around the cell. He cannot see anything behind it.

The dashing shrugs. "Suit yourself. I will keep talking and—" he opens his ransack, taking out the bowl filled with treats, "—enjoy these by myself." He makes sure to place it at an angle the younger can see, then takes a piece. "Mmmm," he moans, "Hello Valhalla." He takes another bite and chews happily as he watches the illusion fade away. It takes all his determination to not laugh when he sees Loki again. The prince stares at him, then the treats, then him again.

Fandral rewards his impeccable scheming with a grin. "Want some?" Loki just works his lips and swallows. "Do not drool, now, princeling. I am willing to share for a price."

Loki's expression hardens again. He stands taller, trying overly hard to ignore Fandral chewing. "Where did you get them?"

"The All-Mother. Your mother. Entertaining story, actually. All-Father caught her pampering you a little too much. Changed the guard shifts and all." He takes another bite and pulls out the quilt. "Stole this as well. She captured the smell of her eternal gardens with each stitch."

The prince looks away, his jaw working. Fandral makes it a point to chew with his mouth open, nice and loud. Finally, Loki folds.

"What are your terms?"

"I will ask you a question, you will answer yes or no, explain in detail why yes or no, and as a reward, if I am satisfied of course, you will receive one bite per question. If you answer them all, then I will give you your mother's quilt."

Loki sneers. "I do not accept."

"All is well. I will just have these for myself, but Norns, now I understand why you would not share your birthday cakes." He shoves in another four bites. "So, so scrumptious." Crumbs rain down to the floor from his talking while chewing quite on purpose.

Loki paces around, quicker by the second. Fandral notes his lips moving as if he's having an inner conversation. Ten minutes later and some more teasing, Fandral's jaw hurts and Loki drops in front of him. Literally. Frantic yet agitated eyes meet his.

"Fine."

"Good," the warrior says with a beam. "Was it Jotunheim that changed you?"

The prince swallows hard. His eyes flick from him to the bowl. "Yes. I...made a discovery."

"It caused you to veer from innocent machinations to genocide?"

Loki looks like he's about to strangle him. "I answered a question. Give me my treat."

"I said I would if I am satisfied with your answer. Your answer was too vague for my liking. Would you like to remedy that?"

There's a killer pang in Fandral's throat when Loki swallows hard again and shuts his eyes. "No," he whispers. The rawness in his voice almost leads the warrior to give him a piece, but he does not. He must be strict if he is to get proper answers for him and the watching All-Father.

"So that discovery caused you to veer from innocent machinations to genocide?"

"Yes, to an extent. It moved me to defend my home." His eyes open again to meet Fandral's. "I was a fool who did not wish to see Asgard burn, and a fool who was bold enough to believe he could prove himself in this realm of demagogues."

Fandral knows that's the truth. This costume would never allow the prince to call himself a fool as a jest. Likewise, it is too proud to acknowledge the boy that came before him, much less call it himself. He stands, grabs a piece of the treat, and nears the barrier to Loki's cell.

"This is how this will work. You will extend your palm and I will take down the barrier just long enough to set one piece down. If you so much as move a centimeter, I will enable the barrier again and consume five of your treats after I kick a particularly tender spot. You will answer five questions without a reward afterwards. Understood?"

Loki looks like he wants to argue, but he ends up saying he does. The prince lays out his palm and waits. As the barrier comes down Fandral prepares for Loki to pounce, but he says as still as stone. To make sure it stays that way (and to step on the prince's nerves), Fandral waits in front of him for a moment. Loki gives him nothing more than a souring scowl the longer he makes him wait.

So, Fandral sets a piece on the younger's palm. Once the barrier is up again, Loki breaks that bite-sized piece in two between his fair fingers and pops one half in his mouth. He doesn't chew. He closes his eyes to let the first half melt. Little by little Fandral watches a pure smile take form. Some silent moments pass, and then Loki takes his last half. This one he chews slowly.

As he opens his eyes again, Fandral catches a glimpse of younger Loki, but with his last swallow the cold criminal costume pieces itself back together. The dashing one hopes that wherever Odin is, somehow he saw that glimpse of his son too.

"Good." Fandral sits again, this time on his knees at just the right spot where he can reach the disable button. "What happened in the void?"

"That is not a yes or no question."

"Which means you are forced to give me truthful details. Go on."

Loki peers down at his overgrown nails. "I kept falling. Someone saved me."

"Details, Loki."

The prince bites his lips to not roll his eyes. "I do not know. I did not see who. I was weakened to near death." He shakes his head and stares into the distance. "Pathetic," he mumbles.

Fandral is nearly fooled, until he catches the princeling glance to the left. "You are lying."

Loki's glare sours again. "I do not know his name. We struck a deal, which was all that mattered to me."

"Describe him then."

The younger rubs his forehead. "I don't know... Massive build, three times smarter than your precious blond prince, violet skin and eyes, shrewder than an eternal elf."

Fandral disables the barrier again. Loki holds out his palm, completely still yet again. The older sets the treat down, and raises it again. He watches in silence while the prince savors his second bite.

"Was taking over Midgard part of the deal?" he asks once Loki's stone eyes meet his again.

"No. I was to retrieve the Tesseract for him. It was I who asked for an army, which worked out well considering the Chitauri are a conquering race."

"Why did he want the Tesseract?"

Loki grins. "My reward first, Newlyson."

Fandral shrugs. "You left out the detail as to why he needed you to retrieve it. Answer."

"Fair enough. He had one strong gem which was in my scepter. I understood he wished to add another to his collection. I know not why, but I have since come to understand they both are Infinity Stones. You could do nothing worthwhile without five and a gauntlet. Likewise, only the celestials can wield them and remain unaffected by their negative influences."

"I see. Good answer." Fandral disables the barrier, Loki holds out his palm. This time he does not receive his treat, but rather a careful stare. "Can I trust you? Can I leave this down?"

Loki laughs once, that madness keynote ever steadfast. "Do what you wish, Asgardian."

"That was a question. Two actually."

"Can I move oh keeper of mine?"

"You can stay where you are or change positions if you wish. You are to remain seated however."

Loki chuckles. "May I pluck the fine tendrils out of your skull?"

The warrior stares. "I am serious, Loki. If you so much as move your legs I will not hesitate to bring you pain."

"Oh," the prince whispers in that new insane tone of his paired with the ghost of a smile, "What makes you think I fear pain?"

"Because you can feel no matter how colossal your ego is. Ask one more question and see what happens." Loki smiles. Minutes after, he nods. "If that is an answer to my question then you must confirm it aloud."

"Yes, you may leave the barrier down."

"Was that so hard? Here." He sets two pieces on Loki's palm.

"Yes, it was my most arduous venture as of yet," the younger says after swallowing both savored bites.

Fandral pulls his dagger out of his boot and places it at his side, where he can pick it up with a swift reach. Loki sees it, but he does not react. Then, Fandral squats to the left side of the prince – his weak side. By the nose twitch he knows Loki understands his purpose.

"Do you or do you not fear pain?"

"No, I do not fear pain."

"What do you fear?"

Loki blinks too fast for a second. "I would rather you gauge out my eyes while strangling me and skinning me than answer that question."

Fandral notes every single twitch in his body. Slowly he forgets about the bribing because the more he searches, the more he knows he struck the golden question that would tell him more in Loki's silence.

It is when he finds Loki staring at his arm—the arm—that his cogs click. "Yourself. You fear yourself." The younger's surprised stare meets his invading one. "You do," the warrior adds, "You stare at that arm whenever you feel cornered. You did so in the Bifrost, in the healing room, when we approached you on the throne, on Midgard, when Thor brought you home." Fandral scoots closer to his friend and peers deeper into Loki's calculating eyes. "'Tis true. I can see it. You are playing a game. You are pretending to follow a trail and you're afraid you will follow it in truth one day. Tell me, Loki, are these barriers truly holding you, or are you allowing them to hold you so you do not find yourself running too far down this newfound path?"

The prince is breathing faster. Fandral can see his blossoming desire to rip him apart in transformed murderous eyes.

He smiles. "You have been a trickster, but never this. The costume feels too big on you, does it not, which is why you feel free to strip it off when reminded of what was. But you know one day the costume will be one with you. You fear that, so the Master of Magic with a mind as vast as Yggdrasil stays behind these golden lights." The shadow that crosses the younger's ashen skin won't let him conclude there.

What was that look? The one from before?

Fandral tilts Loki's chin up to the angle the prince had done himself before. "No. Look at that." Blue slits burn a hole through him as Fandral's first two fingers trace tension chords over the chin and across the prince's jaw. He feels every single little twitch of fury, practically feels the storm brewing underneath porcelain skin. The tension chords grow stronger, which he continues to chase without taking his eyes off the inferno burning in the prince's eyes.

He finds the source. Fandral pushes back Loki's asymmetrical sleeve to reveal the naked weakness. "It all comes back to your arm. It is your strength as much as your weakness. But the costume..." He latches onto the pulse racing underneath raging skin. "It already fits. You are ticking power, you know it, and you know when you must erupt, but the costume, your new skin, will make you erupt too early." His fingers trail down the arm to catch the wrist. He feels every string of tendon constrict as the prince's hand curls into a fist. "Midgard was nothing, wasn't it? You merely treated yourself to some child's play. You hold back all the brimming power in your veins for someone special, someone you hate with all you are."

Fandral nears until their noses are centimeters apart, but a hand prepares to reach for the dagger. "Is it those you allied with? Asgard? ...Odin?"

It happens faster than Fandral can grab it however. With a monstrous scowl paired with a mother of hisses, Loki grabs him and hurls him out of the cell. The warrior scrambles up and runs after him, who's already reached the mouth of the stairwell back to Asgard once the momentary blindness from impact dissipates.

Loki unleashes boiling seidr towards him, which he bolts out of the trail of in the nick of time. He flings himself towards him. The prince knocks him off coarse and kicks out, to which Fandral swoops out of reach but locks onto his ankle. He pulls his feet from under him.

Kick, yank, toss.

Jab, slap, scratch.

Roll, punch, blood.

The only two things Fandral can think about are 1) Loki could quite kill him and 2) Loki does not fight anywhere close to how he had before. He moves and twists and breathes like chaos itself, never stopping to blink, never giving up even when the warrior's dagger flies across his face with centimeters to spare before it cuts through an eye.

It is finally Fandral who wins when he grabs Loki seconds before the insane prince could scrape his face off and flips him onto the stone ground and slams him in the windpipe with the heel of his boot. Out of a strange instinct he crushes him harder until the embodiment of chaos chokes.

That is when he remembers Odin's words: "Loki is a Frost Giant." And it feels so wrong but so right that the princeling with blue skin is so undignified underneath him, stripped of the right to face him as an equal.

Loki laughs that insane laugh again once he catches just enough breath. "Crush me harder, Asgardian," he encourages with a sharp edge of poison in his voice. Fandral's mortified because he does so without realizing he gave him his wish. Somehow the prince has enough open airway to keep squawking with his broken baritone. "Squash the little shadow pest. Come on, now, don't stop here. Get a blade and cut my throat. Mount the monster once and for all. Unless I can make a request: get that bloody perfect prince of yours to crucify me dripping out in his blasted father's Vault like I should have been!"

And Fandral's heart pounds and knee trembles because he's never seen anyone sobbing without tears before.

Loki's claws dig into his pants. "Strike me down, Asgardian, before I rise." And he's moving his boot with hands crawling up the warrior's leg as he rises like a monster out of children's nightmare. "Kill it, Fandral, kill it. Before it kills you."

But Fandral can't see past the tears welling in his blazing eyes. He can't kick away the terrified look of someone knowing they're staring death right in the eyes. The warrior's offense makes him grab Loki up and reel him up to his face.

"I am not killing you," he yells, "I want your precious blood in your priceless veins you deranged dunce!" He doesn't know what makes him throw the prince down again, just that his heart feels so heavy he almost can't breathe. "Damn it, Loki, stop. You are not a monster!"

Loki laughs hoarsely into the stone below him. "Then tell me why it feels so becoming to be under your heel."

His guts drop as he watches the prince trace the indents embedded in his skin. "You are consummately insane." Before the prince tries to say another word through his wheezing, Fandral takes him over his shoulders and carries him towards his cell.

"I could strangle you," the princeling whispers. Despite the spider fingers reaching up his back, Fandral is not afraid.

"I could paralyze you," he replies, knocking on the sliver exposed end of Loki's spine with a knuckle. He would have felt victorious before because the threat makes chaos shiver, but instead he feels even more horrible considering what had just transpired.

He sets Loki down in the center of his cell and clears out, spilled treats and all. The prince brings his knees up against his chest as his barriers go up again.

Fandral cannot bring himself to watch him anymore. He just stares at the floor while wiping dozens of bleeding cuts. "You told me I could trust you when I let this down."

"No, I told you to do what you wished and that you could take it down," the prince replies with his face still hidden behind his knees.

"So I heard what I wanted. You betrayed my goodwill." He sighs and peers down to the treats still left alongside Frigga's quilt. "You need these, you need your family, but I cannot condone your betrayal. I will give you a drop of grace though." He looks up to find Loki gazing at the quilt. "Answer one more question and you may keep your mother's quilt."

Loki just blinks. Then, he closes his eyes as if they steady a mountain. "I knew your goddamn prince would escape. He had Mjölnir." They open again, looking twice the age they were seconds before. "No matter how insane I become, it will not be I who kills him." He looks like he wants to say more, but decides against it.

Fandral nods while the tightness in his chest relaxes. So behind all his dementedness, Loki still loves his brother. That is all the proof needed; in time the lost prince could come back to himself.

He disables the barrier again, then steps inside with Frigga's gift in hand. The moment the sunny quilt drapes over the prince's shoulders is the moment he sees Loki's full body costume tear.

Out the warrior goes towards the stairwell that leads back up to Asgard, but he cannot help but steal glances over his shoulder. He catches albumen colored fingers bringing up the corners to his nose, and closed eyes leaking rivers. The deathlike dew on the face of the prince becomes invisible behind warm summer colors blooming on his cheeks.

Fandral thinks if he's ever seen Loki in the purest essence of his being, then it was now. All he knows for certain is that Loki is not as far as everyone believes, even if he is trying to hold back the overwhelming rush from recounting his mother's lively gardens.

#

The dashing warrior sits with his friends around the table. All he can think about is 1) how appeasing it is to see Thor scheming and 2) how the golden prince's eyes hold a tense but grateful spark when he says the pathways between the realms are known by only one: Loki.

The prince received gifts from his mother (which he saw the All-Father conveniently ignoring once by pretending to be engrossed in revising the seventeenth revision of new legislature), enough to reel him back from degrading into more insanity. The warrior steals glances at him when he works shifts in the dungeons, and he's either resharpening that endless mind with books on his bed or playing with illusions in his mirror.

Fandral cracks his fingers.

"No," Volstagg gasps. Fandral thinks he's right to be afraid as he combs back to the prince's chaotic cunning and explosive bursts.

"He will betray you," he warns, to which Thor nods to hide the stab that truth bite leaves.

"He will try."

Volstagg lets out a deep breath. "That's out of the way, then. Everyone should prepare for that. How do you plan to get him on our side?"

"Trust me," is all Thor says.

Fandral nods and kicks back in his seat. He knows exactly what Thor's bribe will be. "So what then? Your lovely mortal is guarded by a legion of Einherjar who will see you coming from miles away."

Thor's gaze turns to Sif. "I won't be the one who comes for her."

Sif works her jaw for a moment. "Fine, but I reserve the right to threaten your baby brother."

"Touché," says Volstagg.

Thus unwinds the whole plan. Recruit Loki, steal back Jane, take off on an elven ship, and Fandral's role: be prepared with a skif outside the central region of Asgard.

He is. He sees Thor push Loki out, at which moment he speeds up the skif. Loki flails with cuffed wrists, and doesn't fall on his feet like he's wont to do. Thor touches down with Jane in arms a moment later right next to him.

Fandral chuckles as he watches the younger prince struggle back onto his feet. "I see your time in the dungeons has made you no less graceful, Loki."

Loki pretends he's ignoring him. Pretends he is not grateful to the only warrior that took him seriously, without the whole childish threatening business. He watches Thor set the unconscious Jane down. "You lied to me. I'm impressed."

"I'm glad you're pleased. Now do as you promised."

The shadow prince did by tenfold.

Thor comes back hours later, alone. He's bloodied, weary, and...grieving.

"Loki is dead. He laid down his life for Asgard," he says to them. Then Thor goes on to say something about leaving for Midgard, but Fandral can't pay attention. The one person whose death could feel so right but so wrong is gone. But the dashing lets himself fall into a seat as he remembers the night he spoke to Loki.

He whose costume fits and mind has been sharpened to a fine sheet but whose heart has not healed is free (that is if he is still alive). And he whose mind races with cunning unlike another and seidr as raging as a torrent would not lay his life down.

That is, he would either pretend, or he would bargain with the Norns themselves.

His gaze locks on Thor. "The game is on," he finds himself breathing out.

A/N: The idea is that Odin allowed Frigga to fill Loki's cell with his things in order to reel his son back from his insanity, because let's be honest, there was no way Frigga could take all that furniture to Loki without Odin noticing. And if he minded then he would have said something. Surprise though! Frigga has no idea he's on her side.

My headcanon is that Odin wants his son back just as much as Frigga, but shows that in a different way, so with Fandral's talk with Loki, he sees being in a cell is actually backtracking Loki's potential progress.

As always, thank you for reading!