Chapter Text
World-walking was an ability Loki treasured most above all else. It was something that few could perfect, and in all his centuries of living he had not met or heard of another to cultivate it like he had, so perfect it he did. He did not think it was any coincidence, anyhow, as to exactly when it started to manifest - he had long since begun hiding himself from Heimdallr's sight, so the perk of being able to traverse without the aid of the Bifröst was significant in his ventures.
Loki was not stupid, however. He did not dare to travel outside of Yggdrasill where various unknowns met him, though he did not doubt himself that he could travel outside of the Nine if he truly wanted. He was not Thor - he did not want his presence boasted about from miles away; no, he rather preferred to slink through the tendrils of the ways between realms to get where he wanted. The only time he had come close to being lost somewhere outside of the Nine was when he was first learning to world-walk, but thankfully he managed to pull himself back before he truly slipped. It took a toll on him, however, as he was left sick and weak for the next few days following that. He did not want to repeat that experience.
Sighing, he thumbed through another tome of the growing collection on his desk. Ásgarðr's knowledge of the Dark Arts was lacking, for a better sense. Truly, what could he hope to gleam from nonsensical ramblings of elders passed millenia over? The practicing of such magic was strictly forbidden in the realm of gold and had been for centuries since before Loki was born, so he supposed he shouldn't be too surprised.
If Frigga - or worse, Óðinn - found out he was trying to uncover the mysteries of the Dark Arts he had no doubt that the dungeons would await him (well, probably not that severe, but he did not look forward to the lecture he would receive either way). It wasn't like he was going to decidedly practice the Dark Arts - he was not suicidal - merely, he just wanted to gather knowledge about it. For future reference, of course; knowledge is the greatest form of power.
His only other solution would be to travel to Vanaheimr and search their libraries - the capital held more tomes than Loki could conceivably read in his entire lifetime, and wasn't as organized or maintained as Ásgarðr's. While seeming counterintuitive, Loki hoped that it meant that there was less censor on the types of subjects he could find.
Well, there was only one way to find out.
Stretching languidly he gathered a few items: some blank books, ink and pen, and after some forethought some herbs as well. It couldn't help to be too prepared. He didn't think he'd be gone terribly long, possibly a few days or weeks at most, but that was hardly any reason for concern. He had passed his second majority a couple of decades ago, so his movements were less monitored - he doubted anyone would question him extensively if he journeyed to Vanaheimr for a few weeks. Sometimes a month or two often went by without the citizens of Ásgarðr seeing hide nor hair of the second prince, mainly attributed to him squirrling away in his study studying some new spellcast or such. This would be a rather short trip in comparison, granted he actually found what he was looking for.
Items secured in a satchel Loki concentrated, letting his eyes slip closed as the energies of the ways between drifted over him. It took no time at all to locate the specific tell of Vanaheimr, and he reached out to touch the tendril when something else caught his interest.
Another energy, vastly different and vastly more powerful than all of the synergies of the realms combined tickled his senses. If the other realms were lamplights in the night, this one was a star permeating the unending darkness.
Perturbed, he hesitantly reached out with his seiðr, intending no more than to brush against the overwhelming presence to determine its origin, but the thing pulled with such viciousness that Loki lost his footing altogether. He tumbled through the ways between, sounds and color and light coalescing into a cacophony that threatened to tear the shreds of sanity straight from his mind.
He panicked, grabbing onto the first thing he could feel, which just so happened to be the very thing that pulled him in the first place. He didn't care though - he did not want to end up lost somewhere in the ways between, or worse, the Void.
He came to suddenly, almost too fast to comprehend. Blurred visions still plagued his mind as he desperately tried to regain himself. When his heart finally calmed enough for him to take a proper breath he gazed cautiously at his surroundings.
It...was not what he was expecting. It was a dark coven, though there were some places that were lit with no doubt an artificial light of some sort, but he could not pinpoint an exact location. Stalagmites hung down from the ceiling, though he couldn’t actually see the true height of the cave, darkness the only thing he saw when looking up. When feeling such a powerful energy he had expected to show up in a more ostentatious place, perhaps someplace like a temple or place of worship. Then again, he couldn't exactly rule that out, as different species had their own ways of worshiping powerful beings.
And he was sure that it was a being he was dealing with, at least in some sense. He had felt a sliver of consciousness when touching the link, but it felt fractured, like it had been split into different pieces, and this was just one of many.
He sat on the ground uncaring of any dirt or grime that may be present. He needed to figure out where he was first and foremost. It would be risky to attempt to world-walk again, especially if the entity was still nearby and could potentially interfere with his seiðr. It was a disturbingly sobering thought - the implication that there was something so powerful as to defy Loki's own mind . His seiðr was as much part of him as his eyes were, so to have it toyed with so easily...
'Focus,' he shook himself, 'I need to get out of here.'
It only took a thought for the veil that kept himself hidden from Heimdallr's sight to drop. He hadn't done this in years but desperate times called for desperate measures, and this was not something he could do without some outside help.
"Heimdallr!" he called, "Send the Bifröst to my location!"
Some part of Loki hoped desperately he was still inside the Nine, and thusly reachable by the Gatekeeper. Heimdallr’s sight could only extend so far. But this place felt nor resembled in appearance any known place in the Nine Realms, not even having characteristics of realms Loki hadn’t been able to explore fully like Múspellsheimr’s oppressive heat or Jötunheimr’s baltic tundric winds. He had to hold out hope though - Heimdallr was his best hope of returning to Valaskjálf's golden halls in one piece.
Except...nothing happened. Loki frowned. Was Heimdallr ignoring him? Surely he wouldn't risk the safety of one of Ásgarðr's princes, unless opening the Bifröst in this place was inherently dangerous.
That, or even Heimdallr's sight could not reach him here.
Breathing in deep Loki tried to school his racing thoughts. If he was even beyond Heimdallr's reach then that meant he was both outside the Nine itself and truly, well alone in this place. He could attempt to find one of the Nine's unique signature's, but not knowing where exactly he was was limiting. He did not yet have the experience to travel to the Nine from outside the Nine, which he was now sorely regretting and vowed to remedy as soon as he got out...if he got out.
No . He was going to find his way out no matter what.
Steeling himself, Loki began to explore the area around him. For the most part it was steel gray rock formations, with no discernible pattern to them to suggest it was man-made in any capacity. It made the entire situation even more dubious.
Feeling along the wall he tried to detect any seams or gaps that might lead to more answers, but only jagged rocks met his palm. He winced as a particularly sharp one cut across the flesh of his palm, quickly pulling his hand back to assess the damage. It wasn’t deep, thankfully, but he figured that line of inquiry would be best left for later.
There was no draft and the air was stagnant, so he assumed he was somewhere deep underground. No noise besides his own footsteps could be heard either, and strangely there appeared to be no echo as well. Even when he picked up a loose rock and tossed it a few meters there was no resounding noise.
Now more than a little wary Loki picked up the pace. He resolved to go in a singular direction, leaving small marks in case he needed to find his way back. There was no change in air pressure as he continued onwards, though he could detect a small slope that let him know he was traveling deeper into wherever he had found himself.
He walked for what felt like hours but could have possibly only been minutes. For some reason he was having trouble placing himself, as if the very reality around him was shifting and turning like loose sand. A few times he had to stop and ground himself with practiced mantras he hadn’t used since early adolescence and he was just beginning to world-walk, only continuing when the dizzying moments subsided. As he walked deeper though he could see a gradual shift to the walls around him. Jagged rock became smoother, more polished, before eventually turning into light gray veneer, as if someone had coated it with smooth plaster.
Loki stopped abruptly. That same presence was back, and it somehow felt even stronger than when he first sensed it. He knew he was approaching it.
Something in the back of his mind - soft whispering, beckoning him forward - barely there, and he likely wouldn’t have even noticed it had his mental defenses been any less. The sensation caused the hair on the back of his neck to stand up, and another wave of dizziness hit him as he approached an opening along the passageway.
The room would - should - have been ordinary by any means, no different than the one Loki first ended up in. The stark difference was the single, looming column placed centerfold in the room. A small, palm’s width crack separated two pieces of the column, and suspended between them was a writhing, glowing mass of energy. It shone red, reflecting off of its nearby surroundings and casting the cove in an eerie glow. The soft whispering got louder, though not aggressive, as if gently coaxing him along.
He was drawn to it, inexplicably. Something about it…it felt so familiar. He couldn’t place it. Tentatively he reached out a hand before he was even realizing it, brushing against a tendril.
That was all it took.
The mass swarmed forward and he barely took a moment to think that ‘this is it’ before he was overcome.
Red. Red was, unironically, all he saw for the first few seconds. The intricate swirls and shades of red undulating and twisting would have been fascinating to behold in any other situation, but the rabbit-quick pace of his heartbeat betrayed any such notions. And then suddenly the mass was in him - he could feel it penetrate his skin, though no pain followed, only an overwhelming pressure as the energy filled itself into his every vein and artery. Strangely, it did not even touch the core where his seiðr was stored, rather seeming to purposefully avoid that area entirely.
Loki strengthened his mental wards, but he knew it was no use if the entity had proved itself more than capable of bypassing them altogether. Indeed, it wasn’t long before images not his own began to invade his mind. Dangling off the edge of a broken Bifröst , his father’s visage filling his mind ( No, Loki); a smoldering cityscape filled with half-destroyed buildings of steel, the battle cries of hundreds of creatures echoing around him; a dark skyline and ground made of ash under his fingertips; a chaotic landscape trailing by him as the words “I thought the world of you” echoed around him, so familiar in its cadence; of a ruined ship, bodies laid strewn, again so familiar, and the gleaming gold of a large gauntlet as it raised towards him, gleaming, gleaming, gleaming-
Gasping Loki slammed the walls of his mind up with enough force to tumble him to the ground. His heart thundered so fast he feared it would escape his chest entirely. Sweat beaded on his forehead and down his neck as uncontrollable shivers wracked his body. Never had he felt such fear and pain, and his body blanched at the mere thought of reliving any of those experiences. He brought a hand up to his neck. And yet his body acted as if it already had experienced all that he saw.
Just what had he discovered in this cave?
Swallowing audibly he calmed his breathing - in and out, in and out . A frantic mind would do no good in solving his conundrum. He glanced at the strange rock formation to confirm that, indeed, the mass was gone from its usual place, and glanced down at his hands. There was no indication that anything was amiss - pale blue and green veins ran down the back of his hands with no sight of red. He could feel it lurking, though, like a constant buzz under his skin. It was far from unpleasant - in fact, it was almost soothing. The thought alone brought a bark of laughter out of him, slightly too crazed to be called normal.
Shaking himself he stood up on unsteady feet. He needed to figure out a way out of this place - he couldn’t spend a second longer here. It was bad enough that he had apparently absorbed whatever powerful energy used to reside here; he did not want to find out if anything else waited for him.
Despite himself his mind was filled with endless possibilities. What if he couldn’t find a way out? He had not considered the fact that this place could be so far removed from Heimdallr’s sight - it had always seemed like the Gatekeeper was omniscient of the goings-on around him. It was a foolish oversight on his part, perpetuated by the still-lingering naivety of adolescence. He was not a child anymore - he did not need to rely on others to get him out of his messes.
Still, he couldn’t stop the fear of possibly being trapped in this endless cave for the rest of his natural existence. He felt well and truly stranded . He had no sense of direction or placement, within Yggdrasill’s branches or not. Loki was, essentially, flying completely blind. Any wrong move could see him end up somewhere outside of the fabric of reality itself if he wasn’t careful. The thought of never seeing his mother or Thor again caused an odd lump to form in his throat. Could he even recall the last conversation he had with either of them?
There was a small tug in the back of his mind. The soft whispers started up again, more vehement than before though never raising their volume. Hesitantly, Loki prodded at it for lack of anything better to do - truly, there was almost nothing worse that could happen - when his world violently tilted and he was falling through the ways between once more.
Except, this time he didn’t even have a chance to process what was going on. One moment he was in the strange cave, and the next he was…back in his room?
Swaying, he gripped the back of his desk chair to steady himself. How had he…?
He didn’t get to finish that thought before the door to his room swung open and storming in was a frantic looking Thor. Loki couldn’t recall seeing him so distressed before. Once Thor got a glimpse of him his expression switched to blatant relief so fast Loki felt inexplicably guilty.
“Loki, thank the Norns ,” he cried, rushing forward to embrace him in a bone-crushing hug, “Where in the Nine have you been? ”
“What are you on about, Thor?” he was so confused he forgot to struggle, “You’re acting as if I’ve been gone for decades.”
Thor pulled back and set upon Loki a look. His heart dropped.
“No,” he whispered, “Please, no, don’t tell me that-”
“No! Nothing quite that long!” Thor rushed to assure, but his expression dropped once more, “But, Gods, Loki, you can’t just disappear like that without telling anyone. Mother and Father were so worried, they thought you had…had fallen between the ways between worlds.”
“I was not gone for that long, was I?” Now he was growing concerned, Thor’s behavior was scaring him.
Thor fixed him with that same look.
“Brother?”
“Loki, you were gone for five years. ”
· ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
Loki’s head spun.
Five years. Five years of his life passing by without him knowing. Five years where his family had no clue of his whereabouts, and with no way to find him. Five years spent in that godforsaken cave.
But could it truly have been so long? True, there was no way for him to track time while in the cave (shrine?), but he hadn’t noticed any major physical differences even after doing a once-over of himself (and by Thor). Things such as his hair was the same length as when he left, apparently, five years ago, and he knew he didn’t cut it while in the cave itself. His being was essentially trapped in a little bubble of time from five years ago.
Sighing in frustration he sank on his bed. He had wanted nothing more than to sleep for the next decade or two once he got back from his little ‘adventure,’ if you could even call it that, but Thor had all but begged him to see Lady Eir so he had no choice but to comply. Truthfully, he was quite worried himself, moreso of the…thing beneath his skin that he could still feel roiling inside him. It had calmed quite a bit since he first felt it, but it was still disconcerting.
Norns, speaking of disconcerting, his father’s actions after visiting Loki in the healing halls had been jarring to the point that, if he didn’t confirm himself with his seiðr that it was the Allfather in front of him, he wouldn’t have been able to tell it was Óðinn at all.
Loki had long since gotten used to the Allfather’s brusqueness when it came to him. It had been many years since Loki had gone to Óðinn to show him his newest mastered spell or herbal concoction, and longer since he had gone to Loki himself to inquire about him. Loki had attributed it to both him himself getting older and learning not to vie for attention from his elders, and also Óðinn preparing Thor for the throne. Regardless of what the Allfather said, Loki was always destined for the shadows that Hliðskjálf cast, which he had come to accept eventually. Still, he could deny the hurt that had begun to fester when he realized that Óðinn preferred to spend more time with Thor than with him.
So, when Óðinn had showed up to Loki’s private healing chambers with unmistakable worry etched in his eye, he was especially startled. He supposed some part of him thought that Óðinn’s love for him had fizzled out throughout the years - then again, he could be worried for entirely different reasons. Loki was not unfamiliar with the rumors that spread about him and his tricks, so to speak. It would be entirely justified for Óðinn to pay him a visit after being missing for five years, concealed from Heimdallr’s sight and offering no explanation for his whereabouts.
“Would you care to explain where you have been for all this time?”
Hiding his wince quite well, he thought, he affected an air of nonchalance, “Not something that would interest you, I assure.”
A faint twitch of the brow, “I see. I hope you will be more forthcoming to your mother who has had to deal with your absence, apropos of nothing, for the past five years.”
Now he didn’t bother to hide his wince. Oh, mother would be beside herself, surely. And once she was done fussing over him he had no doubt of the verbal whipping he would receive afterwards. Óðinn looked faintly amused at his upcoming plight, but then again he would be as long as he wasn’t on the receiving end of Frigga’s rage.
“You would do well to rest, my son,” was all he said before sweeping out of the room.
More than a little put out by the - dare he say it - fatherly affection, Loki let his thoughts stew. He picked at the palm of his hand, a familiar habit, only to wince in startled pain. Glancing down, he saw the same shallow cut that he had gotten earlier when feeling along the cave wall. He frowned. It should have healed by now - such a small wound wouldn’t have taken so long to mend itself. He coaxed his seiðr to the area and, slowly, it began to close until pale, unblemished skin replaced it.
The door opened once more and he barely took a breath before he was smothered in a familiar embrace. Despite himself he relaxed, the elegant scent of plums and fresh morning spring filling his senses with its tantalizing comfort. His hands reached around to settle on his mother’s back as he tried not to let emotions overcome him.
“Oh, my sweet child,” she whispered into his hair, “What happened?”
His eyes burned, “ Amma , I’m sorry, I…I don’t know what happened. I swear I was only gone for a couple of hours at most, and yet-”
Frigga pulled back, and though her eyes shone with wetness her voice held steady, “Do you remember any of what occurred?”
“Yes, all of it. Though I admit, I truly don’t even know where to start.”
“We have all the time in the world,” her words were stern, as if she were reassuring herself of that fact, “Come, sit down, and you can tell me everything.”
And so he did. He told her of his ‘fall,’ so to speak, of the nausea-inducing travels through the strange cave system, and even of the strange - entity? energy? - that had flowed through him. He considered leaving that part out - he did not yet know if the strange thing meant him or any others harm, but he knew he couldn’t lie to his mother. It was more than likely that she had already sensed the presence of a different energy signature within him the moment he returned.
She frowned at his description of the mass as best as he could recall, “You are certain that it was red?”
“Yes.”
A pensive look overtook her features as she rubbed a thumb across his knuckles, “I tried looking for your seiðr as soon as I realized you weren’t within the Nine, but I could never find it. Only faint traces of it remained and then it was just as if it were…severed. But now, I think it might be more accurate to say it was covered. ”
“By the other energy?”
“I suspect so. Something that powerful…” she sighed, “Loki, truly, do you feel any pain? Discomfort?”
“Not especially. I can still…feel it, in a sense, under my skin, but so far it has done nothing,” he frowned, “I do find it strange that it didn’t immediately go for my seiðr - if that was what attracted it in the first place then surely that must have been the goal?”
“We cannot be certain that your seiðr was what it was after. For all we know, you could have just been in the wrong place at the wrong time, and it just latched onto the first being it felt.”
“But I have traveled those paths countless times before, what made this time different?”
“I wish I knew. This entire debacle is more than strange, and worrying. I have never come across something that can tamper with time and reality as easily as this. I fear there may be something larger at play.”
Loki felt a twinge of fear. While he was more than confident in his ability to wield seiðr, this was something else entirely. He did not know the first thing about attempting to control something that could easily alter the perception of reality. He glanced at Frigga. But…
“You know what it is,” he stated, “What is inside me.”
“I…have my suspicions,” Frigga admitted, “But I cannot know for certain until I do more research. In the meantime, I would prefer you not to do anything too strenuous - even limit the use of your seiðr for the time being. I know you said that it has not interfered with it as of yet, but I want to be cautious.”
Loki nodded. The limited use of seiðr would be worth not having his entire body implode on itself. He bent his head as Frigga laid a kiss to his brow.
“I am glad to see you back, my son,” she whispered into his hair.
“Me too,” he admitted softly.
They stayed like that for a few more moments before she pulled back, “Now go, shoo, into your room. I know you can’t stand to be in here for a second longer.”
Chuckling they both stood and made for the door. Before he could see himself out Frigga pulled him into another embrace.
“Please be careful, Loki.”
He nodded, face hidden in her neck as he let the sweet fragrance of her perfume wash over him.
He hoped he would be able to keep that promise.