20_inkspots, theme #18

[ambientlight]

and autumn to our cost
Matantei Loki Ragnarok fic for 20_inkspots
light theme #18 - stepping stones

written by lesstraveled
accompanying art by ambientlight

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"It's not my place to judge," Verdandi says, "but exile will become you, I think."

"If Skuld had said that, I'd have more faith." Loki stirs another sugarcube into his tea.

"Skuld will feed you promises and Urd will give you regrets. You know as I do that it is in their natures to do so."

"And in yours?"

It seems to Loki that the breeze rippling the sea of grass around them grows stronger. After a brief pause, Verdandi says, "I will serve you more tea, if you'd like it, and then you had best be on your way."

===========

Freyja's tears are salt and water, not gold, and more precious to Loki for it. Mortals would not think so, he knows it well, but gold alone does not keep a mortal body alive. If humans are made of nothing but tears themselves, what is their true worth, if they do not even value it? He says nothing to Freyja. It sounds too much like self-pity.

He lays his hand against her cheek as she weeps. Tears are all that women seem to be able to give him freely, he reflects, but he has the grace not to wonder why.

===========

Odin's false eye has more depth than his real one, and he turns his head so that his blind side is facing Loki. "You know nothing, Loki." His voice is gentle. "Nothing. You'll thank me for this someday."

Hating Odin is no easier now and Loki finds himself becoming angry, for all that he promised himself that Odin would gain no satisfaction in this latest duplicity, for playing Loki for a fool. "I'll do that and more, Odin. You won't even need to sit on that high throne to find out how deeply I'll thank you for all of this."

===========

The fire brings no warmth and even less light, but the forest is no place for clear vision; even the shadows creep onto one's skin, seeking purchase, seeking entrance. To Loki it is almost like home.

The one who makes it so speaks with the rasp of a wolf's growl, her unblinking eyes seeking his. She who has done nothing but wait counsels patience again. Soon, she says.

Angrboda has given him children and he knows that she will bear him victory, if he chooses this path. He thinks that he will; it almost feels like a choice.

===========

Thor's smithy is uncomfortably hot, but for once Loki makes no complaint, and sits quietly as Thor works and curses and sweats.

"If you're waiting for me to ask what you did a stupid thing like that for, forget it," Thor says, as he shovels more coal into the furnace.

Loki shrugs. "I know. You're interested in justice, not mercy."

"Then why are you here?"

"I'm not allowed to say goodbye?"

Thor throws the shovel onto the floor. "I forged that sword," he snaps. "And you used it to --"

"I did," Loki says. "And I didn't."

Thor shakes his head.

===========

How could any child of his find contentment between these shelves upon shelves of dead words? Loki prowls among the rows of books, but aside from the souls trapped in the pages of her collection, chilly Eljudnir is empty, or perhaps emptier because of that. Finally he stands at the exit and speaks, breath white in the air. Hel will hear; nothing escapes Niflheim but that she wills it so.

"I am the only god standing here in this hall, but daughter, know this. If you will keep faith with me, I promise you: it will not always be so."

===========

Heimdall claims a clear dislike of Loki but it is Baldr who thrives on Loki's every misfortune, as Loki thrives on his, and for this reason seeing Breidablik's gates closed and barred is a relief to the latter as he hurries past. Baldr's smiles are too like his own for comfort -- but Loki's pride in his own lies are too great to ever believe in them, whereas Baldr's deceptions, like everything else about him, are perfect and all-consuming. It only reminds Loki that a fire may cast light but they are not the same thing and have never been.

===========

"You cast me out, you who had no right. All that was whole and untouched by decay you took from me -- light and color and fire and true memory. You say that I have no pity or sense of brotherhood, but whose fault is it that I do not know of these things and never will? You have forsaken your giant blood and much else, and oathbreakers have no place here. No, I will not give you succor. But I shall grant you safe conduct out of Utgard. For you gave me life once, and now I repay the favor."

===========

Heimdall is the watcher, and faithful to the task even now. He watches Loki walk the road that leads out of Asgard.

Loki pauses before entering under the archway. "You should understand -- my quarrel wasn't with you."

"Wasn't. It's fitting that it's only now that you start speaking truth."

There is a hole where Heimdall's eye used to be; Loki forces himself to look. He remembered how it felt to drive the blade home, how easy it was. Examining his handiwork now is harder, less satisfying. He sees red that is not yet scar tissue and just -- red, crusted blood and pus around the socket where Heimdall has not yet cleaned the wound.

He is Loki and he knows he will do worse in the days to come. He also knows that Heimdall will not agree.

Heimdall reaches out with a sharp-clawed hand. The opening between the gates, like his grin, grows wider, and Loki is comfortable with neither. "I've seen you leave these lands," he says, "and I'll see you enter Hel's -- even if I have to accompany you there."

"Perhaps you will." But Loki, for all his nascent plans and half-formed schemes, finds the thought oddly unsettling.