This is what happens when you hurry through a maze; the faster you go, the worse you are entangled.

- Seneca

Thor lay wide awake as seconds stretched into hours and stars glimmered, distant and cold and unwilling to give any answer, let alone something as complicated as any of the prophecies he had heard of.

He recalled what his brother had said, knowing there was more to it than just escaping an inconvenient situation. Not even that; it was a deliberate delay, inevitably leading to a defeat. Loki wouldn't let himself be defeated - unless an apparent loss was actually his gain and victory. If only he knew what this gain could be. Loki had mentioned a valuable item, and it seemed correct to assume that he had a certain artifact in his mind. Such conclusion was not helpful at all, knowing that Asgard was a real treasury. Thor was only sure that the object had to be powerful, rare, difficult to find and obtain, and possibly leading to a terrific mess, to his brother's delight.

Thor mulled over countless scenarios of how this duel might end, but he couldn't get rid of that persistent thought that he still was missing his brother's point. However, of one thing he was certain: he was not going to let anyone hurt his stubborn, secretive and temerarious sibling. Even if it meant fending Loki off hurting himself. Even if Loki would earn a few blows in the process.

He waited until the skies kindled and then left to the gardens.

Loki was already waiting. He'd emerged from fading shadows as if the green maze was his territory; a pale, wide-eyed child surrounded by spruce foliage, trying to gather all of his carefully built sinisterness. Thor couldn't help smirking at this. His brother definitely knew how to make an impression, but battles weren't won through tricks. And soon, very little would be left of this seeming self-confidence.

The younger godling replied with a mocking bow.

'I'm glad to see you didn't retreat', he jeered.

'I'm surprised to see you didn't pull in your horns', Thor retorted, just before realizing his brother was provoking him. And yet this scorn stirred up his anger.

Loki gave a delighted smile in factitious appreciation of that comment. He didn't even have to feign it. Everything was going smoothly, as expected; step by step, bewilderment, doubt, slowly boiling rage. Thor was ever so wonderfully oblivious to this game.

'So, shall we?', he asked, tugging at the tying of vambraces.

'Only hands', his brother reminded him, circling slowly.

'Of course.' The younger prince's eyes shone with offended innocence.

Thor's pack of comrades formed a semicircle around them, chanting and stamping. Loki leaned out, preparing to attack, calculating his move with precision. Ironically enough, too focused to notice the first blow.

'That's not how you do battle, prince Loki', one of his tutors had once said with rebuke. 'There will be no time for planning on a battlefield. It has to be an instinct, quicker than your wit.'

'Quicker than my wit?', the godling sneered, rubbing his arm, sore from the hit he'd just received. 'I doubt anything could be so artful.'

Now, as throbbing pain forced him to move back, he could finally recognize that instinct. Without thinking, he threw himself at his brother in an attempt in attack. He still felt pricks of fear and heard laughter and booing. He also knew he was bound to lose - his strategy was entirely relying on a firm belief that Thor wouldn't dare hurt him - but it didn't matter. He struck, his fists clenched, not paying much attention to whether his blows hit the target.

Thor grabbed the front of his shirt, pushed him aside and then lifted him without any exertion.

'Have you had enough, brother?', he asked, his voice rumbling in a disturbing way.

Loki panted. He felt a wave of heat rising to his cheeks, undoubtedly reddening them in embarrassment.

'No', he spat out, and kicked hard, reaching Thor's shin with his boot. Satisfaction was worth the pain of sudden fall to the ground.

He got back to his feet. Thor was approaching him, his eyes the colour of storm clouds, somewhat cold with what Loki recognized as determination. He dodged, landing unsteadily and taking a few wobbly steps. Compared to him, the older prince was calm and forceful, and the fight cost him little effort.

'Do I have to chase you?', he said, to his comrades' entertainment.

The little goding winced and began another onrush, just as unsuccessful as the previous one, more resembling a fit of rage than anything he'd ever been taught. Suddenly, a precise blow darkened the world before his eyes for a few heartbeats and filled his ears with painful ringing. He lost his balance and fell on his back, the impact of tumble wringing breath out of his lungs.

Loki blinked in surprise. A metallic taste filled his mouth; he swallowed quickly, rising. Thor stood nearby with a beaming, victorius grin. He lifted one hand in a instinctive gesture as the boys cheered. Finally, he turned to his brother, and Loki found some shallow satisfaction in seeing that smile fade and give place to listlessness.

'Well done, brother', he scoffed. 'Since the victory is yours... what do you want for it?'

There was still a way of winning. The scant joy of observing Thor squirm between young warrior's pride and his own weird definition of honour, by which taking advantage of younger sibling's weakness was disgraceful.

Thor took a deep breath.

'I want you to bring me the exact item you wanted to ask for in case of your victory.'

Loki's eyes widened with surprise.

'No', he gasped, 'you can't ask for that.'

'Why not?' In the silence that fell, Thor's voice was the only sound. That voice, Loki remarked. That confident, firm tone. One he couldn't simply disobey.

'How do you even know I wanted to ask for an object?', he shrugged, desperately searching for a way out.

'Brother, don't.' The older prince crossed his arms. 'Stop spinning your lies and illusions. You've lost this time, and I expect you to accept it.'

Loki scowled.

'It will be of no use to you anyway, but have it', he grumbled, assuming an indifferent look. 'Though I assure you it will be a rather miserable trophy.'

'What is it, then?' Thor kept his gaze fixed on his sibling.

'A chalice.' The other godling shrugged. 'A crude one, nothing you would consider worthy. An old focus, kept in Vanaheimr.'

The aspiring warriors gave a concordant, sneering laugh.

'In Vanaheimr', Thor repeated with disbelief.

'Well, I told you it's nothing', his brother replied in his most innocent voice.

'How cowardly is that?', someone asked. Loki turned, glowering, but it only evoked more mockery and laughter.

Thor cut it off with a slight gesture of his hand. Surprisingly, the ruffians fell silent.

'Where in Vanaheimr?', he insisted.

'Why does it matter to you?', Loki uttered, but soon gave up. 'In one of the shrines. Where else could it be kept. Njordr's sister used to take care of it.'

'You wanted to ask me to bring an old vessel belonging to a woman.' Familiar imposing tone shifted to a growl.

'Not any woman', the younger godling added quickly. 'She knows old, powerful magic-'

'As most women do', Thor said, unimpressed. 'Did you intend to humiliate me, brother, by assigning such a task?'

Loki felt a witty retort forming at the tip of his tongue, but he couldn't get himself to say it. There was something disturbing about this situation, and it took him a while to put his finger to it.

Beneath his pride and self-confidence, Thor sounded sad.

Taking his brother's silence as a confirmation, he swerved to his friends.

'So be it', he said, merely turning his head towards Loki. 'Let us see if you can manage this glorious undertaking yourself.'

- - -

Sore and ashamed, Loki conjured up a veil of invisibility and walked quietly to his chambers.

He didn't let himself sulk. Self-pity was for the weak. He was a god, and a prince, and what he needed was a plan, not delusive comfort of tears or rumination. Angrily, he wiggled his fingers, evoking a huge, lustrous image of Yggdrasil, cut by paths, leading from one world to another. With another swift move, he added greenish traces of shortcuts.

Maybe those mundane lessons weren't good for nothing, after all.

He allowed himself a faint smile and began packing, cursing his lack of talent for astral pockets under his breath. Getting ready for the journey was more difficult than it seemed. The sagas and tales he knew spoke nothing about preparing supplies; the heroes seemed to be prone to thirst and hunger, and apparently had no need for sleep. Loki tossed all possibly useful belongings on his blanket and stared at them for a while, trying to exclude those he could do without. Finally, he put a notebook and a quill aside, shoved a pair of armlets and an amulet of his own making and placed his provisions in a bag, along with bandages and tiny vials with remedies. Sagas spoke nothing of anyone falling ill because of wounds, but he wasn't going to be the first. He put on his finest boots, checked the knives and quietly closed the door behind him, a mischievous smile curling his lips.

He'd already learned that confidence was the key to passing unnoticed. All he needed to do was to amble as if he perfectly knew where he was going. Of course, at some point they'd notice him missing, but by then he'd be, hopefully, in Vanaheimr. And, by the way, nobody forbade him to go there. Not directly, at least.

He crossed the gates of the citadel, giving a nod to the guards. The city opened before him in a maze of streets and alleys; he continued his stroll until he reached the baileys. This was where the difficulties would begin. Magic rushed to his fingers as he flickered them before his closed eyes, endeavouring to see beyond the most external layer of reality. He knew well enough that Asgard's walls had spells woven into them, not to mention countless beings and spirits inhabiting the city.

Loki wasn't even surprised when, among shadows and scaffolding of spells, he noticed the powerful flame he instantly recognized as his brother.

'Did you plan to bid me farewell?', he sneered, opening his eyes and glancing at Thor.

'No.' Thor's lips formed a thin line. 'I am not letting you to enter Vanaheimr alone.'

Loki snorted.

'Oh, but it's land of the gentle Vanir, and my undertaking is so simple. Embarrassingly simple, as for Asgardian prince.'

The older godling frowned.

'It can't be simple, or otherwise you wouldn't even think of making me do it for you. There must be something I don't know.'

'How long did it take you to realize it?', Loki sighed.

'Not too long, since you're still here.' Thor caught Loki's arm before he could flinch. 'And you're not going to Vanaheimr alone.'

'Don't bring shame upon me, brother', he replied flatly, as if he didn't believe in his own shame. 'What will your friends say?'

'You know I can make enough noise to gather all the guards here in a blink of an eye', Thor warned him.

Loki heaved another weary sigh.

'Are you threatening me, brother?'

'If I cannot convince you in any other way? Apparently.'

He winced, trying to overcome a little gush of gratefulness and relief.

'As you wish', he muttered, releasing his arm from Thor's grip.

With both hands spread in front of him, Loki evoked the image of Yggdrasil again. There were shortcuts, as he'd been told. He'd never used any of them, but opening such door couldn't be troublesome. As far as he knew, it took only pressing in the right place, where the fabric of reality was thinner: either damaged or left almost threadless for some purpose.

'I suppose this is an escape route', he said quietly, drawing intricate lines with his fingers.

'For what?' Thor furrowed his brows. 'Why would anyone have to escape Asgard in such a disgraceful way?'

'You never know.' His voice was barely a whisper, tense with engrossment. 'Maybe we'll use it one day for a similar purpose.'

'I will never abandon Asgard. Not like that.'

Loki shrugged, clenched his teeth and carefully tore the wall as easily as if it was a sheet of paper. Magic scorched at his skin.

- - -

Frigga lifted her head and stared at the city, her eyes squinting, focusing at the distant point where flames of magic licked the walls. It has begun, as she's been told. She hated to know that Thor had just entered the eye of the storm, regardless of how ironic it sounded, concerning the fate that awaited him. Of course she did everything she could to prevent it. Even talked to the Norns.

But, then, the Norns weren't known for their mercy.

- - -

Vanaheimr was a beautiful realm, but for those used to citadel's lack of space, it was also ominously vast and sparse. The siblings found themselves feeling uneasy and exposed. Another disturbing quality of the famous land of fertile grounds and fecund harvest was its quiet. The fields and pastures seemed deserted, with wind's hollow murmur being the only sound. Sudden impression of loneliness, so very unusual, gripped the godlings' minds. Even so, it could have been illusory, for all they knew – the ears of late cereal and were high enough to provide a hideout for someone much taller than teenage Asgardians.

They walked by the bounds of a freshly harvested field, surrounded by a lush hedge and a row of trees weighing down with heavy, red fruit. Thor glanced at them longingly, but continued walking by his brother's side, not really convinced of whether Loki knew where to go. None of them spoke, as if afraid to break the silence and uncover their presence.

'This is ridiculous', Thor uttered, overwrought in his voice. 'There is no reason for which we should act like perpetrators.'

'If we were to act like such, we'd be crawling in the grass', Loki replied.

'You certainly know what I had in mind. Crossing the border is not a crime.'

'Theft is, on the other hand.'

'Did you already steal anything, brother?' Thor shook his head.

'Harsh words', the younger godling smiled, plucking two fruits and and handing one of them to Thor.

'At least there is no peril of starvation, in spite of being lost.' He dug his teeth in syrupy pulp.

'We are not lost. I know where I'm going', Loki said as carelessly as if visiting nearby realms was his usual pastime activity.

Thor only raised his eyebrows, making no secret of his disbelief.

However, this time Loki's assurances proved to be true. The golden chariot had only begun its slow descent when they noticed thin pillars of smoke rising to the grayish skies. Soon, a tall edifice emerged from the hills. A few inconspicuous households were built around it, as if they were clinging to steep stone walls. The temple had very few windows, all of them slender and narrow. At its top, on an extensive terrace, blurred figures were moving around torches and an offering, burning at the

altar.

'So this is this famous shrine?' Thor asked dubiously, eyeing the building. 'I'd rather call it a stronghold. How exactly are you planning to get past those walls?'

'By wit and charm', Loki replied with an impatient wave of his hand.

'Why did it scare you?'

'What?' He flinched and glanced at his brother nervously. 'It didn't scare me. It's anything but scary.'

'For some reason, you didn't want to go there', Thor insisted. 'You should explain it to me now.'

Loki hesitated under his brother's perceptive gaze. Maybe Thor wasn't adept at diplomacy and ancient lore, but he had this surprising ability of seeing things clearly, no matter how concealed they were.

'Don't you feel it?', he answered at last. 'It is a stronghold indeed. Only… only its purpose is to contain what's inside. Some primeval force, older than Asgard itself.' A shiver ran through his body. 'It's calling to us.'

They exchanged glances that spoke of their apprehension better than any words. It was certain that they shouldn't be there; the thrill of adventure was gone, they wanted to go home.

Not that any of them would admit it openly.

Without a word, Loki spun an illusion of invisibility over both of them.

'You simply want to enter it.' Thor frowned.

'It's not guarded.'

'And later?'

'We will see what ensues.'

They clasped their hands and prowled the valley. Gradually, the call that Loki mentioned grew somehow louder, causing their ribs to resound with its droning. Though, at the same time, both brothers knew that this sound was not audible at all; not by their senses. It affected soul, not flesh.

The gates of shrine were open, but Thor immediately noticed their iron reinforcements and a grating ready to be lowered. He clutched his fingers firmly around the grip of his sword, not releasing Loki's hand. The younger prince let his brother direct the course and followed him to the temple.

It welcomed them with coldness of thick stone and spoiled scent of incense. The vault was closing high above them, supported by massive arches. Godling of mischief craned his neck to look at it as Thor guided him, treading carefully by the wall. As for someone who Loki considered rather rash, he was surprisingly surreptitious and agile. Like a warrior entering a foreign realm should be.

With Thor leading the way, Loki could focus on the place itself. At first he assumed that the walls were partially covered in moss, but soon discovered that thin veins ran through the stone, pulsating with faint emerald light, almost as if alive. The building was cold, not resembling any living creature, but Loki knew there were beings whose skin was much colder. Overall, the idea of a huge shrine inhaling magic didn't seem too unreasonable to him. In fact, it even evoked some confidence in him, if the chalice really comprised what he hoped to find – and that was something very basic, very ancient, powerful and sorcerous indeed.

Smiling to himself, he let his hand out of Thor's grip and began to walk faster, ignoring his brother's reproachful gestures. He didn't care - he was where he wanted to be, so close to the artifact. Mere steps away from satisfying his curiosity. Too preoccupied with his hopes and dreams to notice the illusion become threadbare, he strode, heading to where the most central altar should be.

Loki's careless steps were not the only ones that echoed in the corridor, as Thor realized with dread. Two figures were approaching, both of them wrapped in long capes and hoods resting on their arms, exposing loose blonde curls and comely faces that looked like mirror reflections of each other. The thunder godling found it utterly difficult to remember that the Vanir were considered a peaceful tribe. Those two didn't look peaceful at all when they walked to his brother.

'What in all hells are you?', one of them asked, his (or her?) voice dangerously low, even if pleasant.

Thor could see only his brother's back, but had no trouble imagining Loki blinking and frowning before bringing an expression of apparent self-confidence to his face.

'I am Loki Odinson and I have come to pray at your altar.' He gave a little, shallow bow.

'Asgardian', the other growled. 'A pitiful, stray creature. Look at him.'

Thor pleaded silently that his brother would have enough common sense not to retort to someone who had called him pitiful and stray, for the sake of his own wyrd. Thankfully, Loki chose beguiling instead of insulting.

'And if I am here to untangle my paths?', he asked in a smooth voice.

'How could you? You are blind. You're an empty vessel.' The other spoke indifferently. 'A pretty, fragile flesh over a poor excuse for a soul.'

Loki fell silent, completely taken aback.

'You should have stayed in your chambers, child. This is no place for you. Raw magic will wrench you before the dawn.'

Thor stood, as if frozen, gazing at the three silhouettes idly. He could also feel it. Some unnamed force pricking at his skin, gradually tearing him apart from the inside.

'Try me', Loki demanded suddenly, almost shouting. 'I have what it takes. I have chaos within.' He paused, inhaling deeply. 'Let me stay. I'll prove myself.'

The Vanir looked at him, their faces lighting up with amusement.

'And what on earth', one of them spoke, holding back laughter, 'made you think, little Asgardian, that we were intending to let you out?'