Soft silks beneath caressed her skin. Somewhere light streamed in, but its glare was muted to a warm glow. Kyra yawned sleepily, and stretched. Her hands hit plush pillows and her legs were tucked under thick, lush blankets.

Mmm. This is very nice. Nice big double bed. Not like mine at home -

Not hers. This bed was not hers.

Her eyes flew open. Directly opposite her was a large mahogany wardrobe, and a window letting in natural light. Curtains made of some sort of a sheer material had been drawn half across. She sat up quickly.

A dull bolt of pain lanced through her right temple. She winced, and put a hand up, touching a square piece of material. What's this? There was a full length mirror near the wardrobe, and she got out of bed and moved to it. A patch of gauze stuck to her temple, and when she touched it it hurt. Must have hit my head when I fell. There was a bruise on her jaw too, that was already beginning to turn purple. Someone had put a dark blue robe of wool over her.

Kyra looked around automatically for her glasses, before remembering that they had been reduced to shards of glass and plastic. She cringed. Through fuzzy vision she swept her gaze over the bedroom.

Whoa. This is one large bedroom.

No expenses had been spared in its furnishings either. A rosewood chest-of-drawers served as a bedside table, on which an antique oil lamp sat. The bed she had slept in was a four-poster bed, and even if she extended both her arms while lying down, she could not touch the sides. The colours all around her were all of rich royal shades. It reminded her of a palace bedroom.

Where am I? Even as she asked that question, another more pressing one popped up in her head. Where is Loki?

She turned away from the mirror and padded across the bedroom toward the door, her feet sinking soundlessly into the luxurious carpet. She was about to press down on the doorknob when she heard shoes click-clacking down the hallway outside.

She let out a strangled yelp and ran back across the bedroom, before diving straight onto her bed. Thump! she landed, face pressed to the blankets, four limbs splayed. She closed her eyes and feigned sleep, mimicking deep breathing, her actions done not a second too soon, for the door opened.

Someone walked in, the footsteps light. A pause.

"I can tell that you aren't asleep dear." It was a woman's voice, and Kyra could hear her smile.

She bit her lip, feeling the flush creeping up her cheeks. Sheepishly she got up, running her fingers through her hair.

The woman that stood before Kyra was regal and elegant in her posture. Her golden curls were tied up in a low ponytail, slung over her left shoulder. She had on a stunning long-sleeved gown, sequinned in places with silver beads.

With a benevolent smile she sat at the edge of the bed. She was looking so immaculate that Kyra had the desire to duck into the bathroom and maybe spend half an hour on her appearance before she could finally deem herself worthy of talking to her.

"You must be the Midgard mortal that has been taking care of Loki for these four days. Thank you very much for that."

Kyra smiled, an awkward one.

"You must have so many questions. Well, ask away. I'll try my best to answer."

There was one question that was at the very forefront of Kyra's mind, and she asked that.

"Where's Loki?" And then she realized that wasn't enough, so she followed it up with - "Is he okay? Is he hurt? He......wasn't himself."

A little smile tugged at the corners of the woman's lips. "What a coincidence," she murmured under her breath. "That was the first question he asked too......."

She cleared her throat. "Loki is under observation. His condition has stabilized, and we have the best healers watching over him. You have no need to worry."

The big stone on Kyra's chest lifted a little. "But what happened? Why did he - "

The woman shifted to a more comfortable position. There was a brief flash of worry in her eyes and Kyra wondered what exactly was her relationship with the God of Mischief.

"Do you know of Loki's story?" she asked.

Kyra thought. "Well, I've only heard the myths and legends....and I've seen the movies. He's not Odin's biological son is he? He's the child of a Frost Giant. Odin adopted him. That's about all I know really. I didn't - well, I didn't expect all that stuff to be real, so I brushed it off as just another story and didn't really care much."

The woman didn't seem offended. Instead she merely nodded.

"What you have heard is correct. There was a war on Jotunheim, the home of the Frost Giants. A war between the giants and the Asgardians. In the aftermath of the war, the King of Asgard went into the Temple and saw a baby. Abandoned and suffering. He picked him up and adopted him as his stepson. That baby grew up to be the Loki you know.

"As for Loki's condition - I believe Midgard soldiers suffer the same way? Post-traumatic stress disorder is the term you use."

Kyra nodded; she had heard of this. "Trauma? From what?"

The woman paused. Her voice turned soft, and there was an undercurrent of sadness.

"From the war. Imagine, a six-month-old baby left alone in a temple, in the cold and darkness, with not a single comforting soul nearby. Without a mother, without a father, abandoned to the world. Forced to hear the battle raging outside, to hear the screams of death and the sound of blood being shed. A six-month-old baby."

There was a flash of anger and outrage in her voice. Although Kyra couldn't see her well, she had a feeling that this was a woman of steel, steel that could melt with warmth but also stand its ground in times of need.

"But why only now? The war must have been years ago."

"One thousand and forty-eight years ago to be exact," the lady replied. Kyra's eyes widened. "And yes, you are right, for any mortal the trauma would have started since young and faded by the time adulthood came around.

"But Loki is no mortal. Magic runs in his veins, and when the magic is amplified, trained and strengthened, it serves to do only one purpose - to protect and obey its wielder. His mind could not - and perhaps, would not - accept the pain of the war, the pain of abandonment, so the magic came in to help. It detected the painful memories in Loki's mind, and built a barrier to protect him from it. That is why he cannot remember anything from the war, and why Odin's revelation of his identity came as such a shock.

"Now that he is on Midgard however, and deprived of his magic, the barrier has come down. The memories are returning, all at once. Anything he sees or hears will serve as a trigger, and a flashback will occur. The sound of steel upon steel might remind him of weapons clashing during the war, a scream might bring him back to the past. The memories, unleashed for the first time in a thousand years, will remain as vivid and real as they were before, and he might get so lost in it that he cannot distinguish between the scenes in his mind and the scenes in reality. He will have to take utmost caution."

The woman's eyes rested meaningfully on Kyra's injuries.

Kyra went quiet. "Does he - mind it very much? Being adopted?" There was a strange catch in her voice that made the woman look at her sharply.

"He sees himself as an outsider in the family. Already his looks do not resemble his brother Thor and Odin. His physical prowess too, is not compatible to that of theirs. Add on the fact that he cannot fit in with the rest of the Asgardian warriors - while they test their brute strength on the training grounds, he locks himself away in the library perusing books. He sees us as being against him, but in reality it is him that is against us."

"Can I see him? Loki?"

The woman hesitated. "That - might be a rather difficult task. Loki is a criminal after all, and Herrick - our palace head guard - will not take kindly to him having visitors. And Loki himself.....well. You will soon see for yourself."

"But you're not saying no?" Kyra persisted.

The woman smiled. "No. I am not saying no. We can try. But first, let us get you into a dress."

They got up, and as they moved across the bedroom it occurred to Kyra for the first time to ask where she was.

"You are in Asgard, of course," the woman replied. "Heimdall - that is the Bridgekeeper - has eyes all over the Nine Realms and saw what was happening. He informed Odin, and he had warriors go down to Midgard to transport the two of you back here."

Kyra gaped. Asgard. THE Asgard.

Loki's home. Jesus.

She managed to regain some of her senses enough to remember that it was rather impolite of her not to enquire for the woman's name. So she asked.

"My name?" The woman's eyes sparkled, twinkling in a manner Kyra found very familiar.

"I am Frigga, wife of Odin, Queen of Asgard, and the mother to both Thor and Loki."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Kyra fidgeted. Apparently jeans and a blouse wasn't the dress code here in Asgard. The last time she had worn a dress - a real dress, the kind one wore to formal evenings and sophisticated ball parties - had been on her university graduation night. And anyway, she had never worn anything like this.

It was made of gorgeous purple satin and cinched at the waist by a trail of gold leaves. The sleeves hung low on both sides of her shoulders and covered the full length of her arms. The dress flowed like water down past her feet, clinging to the floor whenever she walked. It was a simple yet exquisite design.

She had mentioned her eyesight to Frigga too, and Frigga said she knew just the thing for that. Kyra had watched as she took out a vial of clear blue liquid, added droplets from other vials to it, before whispering a single, foreign word. The blue color of the liquid shrunk into itself until it became transparent.

Then Frigga had bid for her to tilt her head back and open her eyes wide, which she complied. Two drops, one for each eye, and a few blinks later - hey presto! It was as if she was had her glasses back on again.

"This should last you until midnight. Come find me when you have a need for this again."

It was late afternoon when Frigga came to take her out of her room. "The guard shift has changed and Herrick is off duty for the moment. This is our chance."

She led Kyra down a hallway, a flight of stairs, and more hallways. Soon, they had left the sunlight behind. The corridors grew lonelier and lonelier, and marble floors gave way to stone. The walls were furnished less and less, and a dank musty smell grew.

"Where are we going?" For some reason Kyra felt compelled to whisper.

Frigga glanced to her side, at Kyra. "The dungeons."

Kyra's footsteps slowed to a stop. Her eyebrows knitted together.

"He's sick - and you're keeping him in the dungeons?"

Two feet in front of her, Frigga stopped. She turned around.

"Loki is a criminal. The safety of the people of Asgard must be considered." Frigga's blue eyes locked onto hers. Her voice lowered a little in volume. "It was not my choice."

Kyra looked away. A criminal?

Odin had told her of course, so she knew. That Loki had done something wrong and had been sent to Earth to repent for his sins. But she had no idea what those sins were. And she hadn't really cared - after all his powers were gone and he was bounded to her, required to fulfill her bidding. Ergo, he couldn't harm her, so who cares?

But now she was beginning to see that there was more to him. That Loki might have done something more damaging than just a little mischief.

A dungeon. A criminal.

Unconsciously her fingers went to her throat. She had looked into the mirror earlier, and could see the faint red marks encircling her neck.

Frigga's voice cut into her thoughts. "Come. The dungeon is just ahead."

She turned back around and started walking. Kyra hesitated a heartbeat - then followed.

Two guards stood sentry at the entrance, their spears making an X. When they saw Frigga they slammed a fist to their chests and bowed low, stepping aside. Frigga nodded in acknowledgement and glided down the stone steps into the dungeon. Kyra went in behind her, feeling apprehensive.

The Asgard dungeons were like nothing Kyra had ever seen. The cells were square and set into rocky walls. A large rectangular pane of glass was all that separated the observer from the prisoner. There was a gold border around the glass, and Frigga explained that it was imbued with magic, enhancing the strength of the glass, making it near invincible. Furniture in the cells were almost none, and any that were laid broken and thrown about. Each cell held two to three prisoners, sometimes more.

Hideous faces sneered and mocked at the passing queen and mortal. Kyra made the mistake of making eye contact, and the prisoner - a demented ogre - slammed into the glass and roared loudly at her, only a few inches away. Kyra have a little shriek and jumped. There were jeers and boos from the other cells.

Frigga slowed her steps so Kyra could walk side by side with her.

"They cannot harm you. The glass is strong enough to hold a dozen men battering at it from the other side. And even if they do escape, I will see to your protection."

Kyra swallowed down her fright and nodded. "Right. Thank you Mrs Frigga."

Frigga's lips quirked upwards. "Mrs Frigga. No one has called me that before. I like it."

They reached a cell that was different from the rest. For one, it was a little bigger, and there was a proper table and chair in it, along with a chaise lounge and a simple but comfy bed. A small bookshelf stood in one corner.

Sitting near it, flicking the pages of a book with idle fingers, was Loki.

Kyra stared. He was looking considerably well for a man she last saw kneeling on the ground in anguish. His hair was slicked back, not a single strand out of place, and he was wearing the same outfit she had first saw him in, but without the cloak. His legs were stretched out before him, crossed over one another, and he seemed entirely absorbed in the book he was reading.

He looked up when Frigga came near.

"Ah. The Queen of Asgard. Come to pay me a visit. Such honor." Kyra had learned to get used to the dry sarcasm in Loki's voice, but this was something more. It sounded barbed somehow, cutting, and Kyra hesitated, suddenly feeling very unsure and uneasy. She had never heard this tone before.

Frigga looked at her son for a long moment. Finally she said, "I'm merely an escort. Your visitor is someone else."

She stepped aside, and Loki saw Kyra. Only Frigga's hawk-like eyes managed to catch the flicker of something in Loki's eyes.

"My my. Even Thor's - girlfriend, I believe, is the Midgard term to use? - has not managed to set foot on Asgard. And yet, here you are. The mortal Kyra Pierce. You must make history!"

The words were spoken in a dry mocking tone. Kyra shrank a little. She was confused now, was this Loki? It was as if he had turned into someone else overnight.

"I will leave you two in privacy," Frigga said. "Kyra dear, come find me when you have finished."

She swept away back toward the dungeon entrance, past the cells. When she reached the stone steps, she looked back. She could not see Kyra from here, but she could imagine her standing in front of the cells, with leering monsters behind her and a stranger in front. For a moment she hesitated, wondering if she had made a wise decision by leaving her alone.

But she had a feeling about this mortal. A feeling that was slowly growing into certainty.

She thought back to the moment when she had been sitting on Kyra's bed, when she had first spoken to her.

"You must have so many questions. Well, ask away. I'll try my best to answer."

The mortal didn't even hesitate."Where's Loki? Is he okay? Is he hurt? He......wasn't himself."

And then, when she had treated Loki in the dungeons. When Loki was raving and tossing and turning in hallucinations and delirium. There had been that one moment, that one moment of clarity, when he had locked eyes on his mother and really saw her, that one moment when he had returned back from his tortured mind to reality.

And what was the first thing he had said?

"The mortal. The girl. Where is she? Is she alright? Is she hurt? I - I might have harmed her."

Frigga looked back one more time, before ascending the steps and out to the light.