Fic: Hearts and Lies (Frostiron) 5/13

[bookishwench]

“What? That’s impossible!”

Loki was poised between exasperation at Thor’s stupidity and outright fury at the mere suggestion of Anthony’s guilt. There was simply no way that Anthony could be responsible for these weapons, none. They were crude, cruel, and possessed none of the artistry that was the weaponsmith’s hallmark. The idea that he would be behind this fiasco was ludicrous; however, Loki was also aware that the kingdom was looking for an answer to the mysteriously powerful weapons, and if one presented itself, perhaps those in authority might choose to accuse and condemn on less proof than usual. In short, Anthony would make a convenient scapegoat.

“Nevertheless,” Thor said, looking at him with pity as though Loki were deluded, “he was arrested two days ago.”

“Two days! Why was I not told?” Loki asked angrily.

“Your chambers were too strongly warded,” Thor said. “No one could contact you.”

Loki silently cursed himself for not thinking to leave some emergency entrance, and his self-blame only increase his anger.

“Anthony cannot have been arrested. That’s absurd! On what evidence?”

“The weapon that lodged in Fandral’s back in the most recent battle did not disintegrate as the others have done,” Thor said. “It bears Howardson’s mark.”

“That could easily be a forgery,” Loki said dismissively, shocked how easily others believed this nonsense. “It is far too convenient that the only weapon that did not turn to ash also happens to bear his mark!”

“I too thought this,” Thor said, “but when the evidence was brought to his forge, Howardson himself admitted the weapon was his. He is now being held in the dungeon. Loki, Father intends to pass a sentence of death on him tomorrow.”

Without another word, Loki walked directly past Thor and into the corridor, all but running in the direction of the palace dungeons. He would have liked to teleport straight to the dungeon, but it was warded against any attempts at unauthorized entrance or exit, including magic. Thor, annoyingly, followed close behind him.

“Is it not possible you are mistaken about the innocence of this man?” Thor said.

“No.”

“How can you be so certain?”

“Because I am! These were made by a mage on Niflheim!”

“Were they truly made there, or did this mage provide only the concealment spells needed to remove Howardson from any possible suspicion?”

“Anthony has nothing to do with this!”

“Can you prove that?” Thor asked.

“If given enough time, yes,” Loki snapped, but in truth he wasn’t so certain.

By the time they had reached the lowest floor of the palace, Thor was out of breath and Loki had no idea what he was going to say to Anthony. The Einherjar at the door glared at both princes as they entered, but nothing was done to stop them.

“Is Fandral alive?” Loki finally thought to ask.

“Yes. He will mend.”

Loki gave no indication he had even heard. He was too focused on finding which cell housed Anthony. His eyes flicked over the various invisible walls and their assortment of criminals until finally he found one that contained five prisoners, two of whom were currently restraining Anthony as the other two ruthlessly pummeled him.

“Stop!” he called out, so furious that sparks appeared around him as he ran to the cell. “Unhand him!”

“He’s a traitor and he’s dying tomorrow,” one of them sneered, not releasing his hold. “He has no rights.”

“If you touch him again, it will be you who dies before tomorrow,” Loki said, the crackling around him becoming so strong that it began to resemble Thor’s lighting, “or rather, you will wish for death, and it will not be granted.”

The four other occupants exchanged looks, then reluctantly dropped Anthony to the ground and stepped back, sitting against the far wall as there was no furniture in the cell. Anthony didn’t move, and for one horrifying moment Loki thought he was dead. Then, slowly, he saw the other man’s back twitch as he drew a deep breath.

“Anthony?” Loki said gently.

Anthony painfully pulled himself into a sitting position and looked at Loki through a rapidly swelling left eye. A trickle of blood came from his lip, and Loki ached to brush it away with his thumb. The bruises on his face showed this had been far from his first beating, and his posture sagged forward, his eyes firmly on the ground.

“How badly are you injured?” Loki asked, hoping that what he couldn’t see wasn’t worse than what he could.

“Does it even matter?” he said. “Odin will kill me tomorrow.”

“Was that truly one of your weapons?” Loki asked.

“It was.”

Loki drew back marginally and frowned.

“What aren’t you saying?” he asked.

“I never manufactured it,” Anthony said, “but I did create the plans for it. It was a spear that, when thrown, would inject a deadly, slow-acting poison into the victim. It was during one of my darker moments, and when I realized how horrific it really was, I threw the plans into the fire, or I thought I did. Someone must have found them and built it.”

“But it wasn’t you,” Loki said.

“It is still my responsibility!” Anthony said. “When the Einherjar came to my forge, I told them of the poison. It was a nightmare, thinking one of our warriors might die in horrible agony because of something I dreamed up.”

“The antidote you gave them worked,” Thor said, and Loki startled, having almost forgotten he was there. “Fandral shows no sign of the toxin.”

“Good,” Tony said, then shuddered. “But if there is one of those spears out there, more might exist.”

“You did not make them,” Loki insisted again.

“No, but they were my thought,” Anthony said, looking at the floor, shame on his features.

“And I’ve thought of a thousand heinous things I never acted upon,” Loki said. “Should I feel guilt for what I chose not to do? You are a weaponsmith.”

“Yes, my trade is death,” Anthony said, looking up at him.

“Or protection,” Loki countered. “Anthony, more of these weapons could indeed have been crafted, but they were not made by you. Whoever is making them is still out there and needs to be stopped. Whoever gave them your discarded plans needs to be found as well.”

“I don’t know who they are,” Anthony said. “I have no idea.”

“My tests showed signs of a mage from Niflheim,” Loki said quickly, realizing the guards’ patience was nearly at an end. “Does that mean anything?”

“No,” Anthony said. “Nothing. Loki, please, look after Peter for me.”

“I refuse to listen to your dying wishes because you will not die!” Loki yelled, then forced himself to be calm. He put his hand against the invisible barrier. “Whatever you think, Anthony, this is not your fault. You are no traitor.”

Anthony looked away, but at that moment, two Einherjar appeared beside Loki and Thor.

“You need to leave,” one said, and the scowl he gave showed he too thought Anthony guilty.

“Anyone who harms Anthony Howardson will incur my wrath,” Loki said in a clear but lethal voice. “I want that understood.”

“Including the king?” the other Einherjar asked.

“My father will not have this man executed,” Loki said.

As they left, Thor looked less sure of Anthony’s guilt than before they had spoken to him

“Loki—”

“Unless your next words are a plan to help prove Anthony’s innocence—a good plan, not a stupid one, you imbecile—hold your tongue, brother.”

“Are you absolutely certain he speaks the truth?” Thor asked.

Loki stopped and turned the full power of his glare on him.

“Was it not you who dubbed me the god of lies when we were but children?” Loki asked. “I know the scent of a liar, and it is not on him.”

Thor still looked uncertain, but he asked only, “Where are we going?”

“I am going to Anthony’s workshop,” Loki said. “I care not where you go.”

“I am coming with you,” Thor said. “If the man is truly innocent, I would not see him executed. Treason has been committed, and Asgardian lives have been lost. I want the real guilty party punished so that it will stop.”

Loki remained silent, but he said nothing more about Thor leaving. With so little time, any ally was useful.

Loki opened the door to the forge to find Peter inside, sitting on his usual stool, his face showing signs of recent tears.

“Peter,” Loki said in a voice so gentle it surprised Thor, “are you well?”

“No,” he said, looking up at him. “They took him away, Loki. They’re going to kill him!”

“No, they’re not,” Loki said more confidently than he felt. “I looked at the ash Anthony gave me, and it showed a connection to Niflheim. Peter, think carefully. Does that mean anything to you?”

Peter looked frightened for a moment, then quietly whispered, “Yes.”

He looked upwards fearfully at the floor above where Obadiah usually slept.

Without another thought, Loki took hold of Thor’s bicep with one hand and Peter’s elbow with the other and teleported all of them back to his rooms in the palace.

“Nothing will harm you here,” Loki said. “You cannot be overheard, and you are safe.”

“Did we just—”

“Teleport, yes,” Loki said. “Try to focus, Peter. What do you mean about Niflheim?”

“Obadiah sent a message there about a year ago,” Peter said. “He hired a courier for it. Tony was out for the evening, and I had gone home, but I came back because I thought I had left my gloves at the forge. It turned out I hadn’t; they were at the baker’s. But Obadiah was coming downstairs, and I suddenly felt something was very wrong. I have that sense sometimes, a feeling when something bad is going to happen, and I was sure he wouldn’t want me to be there. So I hid.”

“Where?” Loki asked. “The workshop doesn’t have many places that would hide someone your size.”

“Um,” Peter looked embarrassed, “on the ceiling?”

“The what?” Thor asked, looking stunned.

“How?” Loki asked.

Peter shrugged, then taking a breath, he put a hand on one of the walls and, to the complete shock of both Loki and Thor, proceeded to crawl up it, then, defying all the laws of gravity, continued his path across the ceiling.

“How is that possible?” Thor said, looking at Loki as though he would be able to explain.

“How in Hel would I know?” Loki shot back.

“It looks like magic,” Thor said defensively. “You know magic.”

“Well, I don’t know this,” Loki said. “Peter? Do you have an explanation?”

“I don’t really know either,” he said, and even hanging upside down from the ceiling of Loki’s bedroom it was clear how self-conscious he was. “When I was a couple of decades old, something bit me. I don’t know what. A few days later, I could do this.”

Thor and Loki just stared up at him, matching looks of bewilderment on their faces.

“This is disturbing,” Thor said. “It is like he is some human-insect hybrid.”

“Please don’t tell anybody,” Peter said, abruptly falling from the ceiling and landing perfectly on his feet in front of them, a beseeching look on his face. “I don’t want everyone to know I’m some sort of freak.”

“You are not a freak. Regardless of that,” Loki said, shaking his head to clear it. “You saw Obadiah from where you were hidden?”

“Yes,” Peter said. “I’m certain he didn’t see me, though. No one ever things to look above them. He opened the door, and a man I had never seen before came in. Obadiah went over to the table by the backdoor and returned with a sealed envelope and told the man to deliver it to Niflheim.”

“You’re certain?”

“Yes, and the man asked how he would know the recipient, that there were many beings in that realm, and Obadiah said, ‘He will find you.’ Then he left and Obadiah went back upstairs and I went home. I didn’t see anything really wrong in it despite what I sensed. It was just odd.”

“And the other man, did you ever see him again?” Thor asked.

“No, but I would know him if I saw him,” Peter said. “He had one brown eye and one blue one.”

“Wait,” Thor said, thinking. “Was he tall and quite thin?”

“Yes,” Peter said, “he was.”

“That sounds like Bjarne,” Thor said, turning to Loki. “He was a warrior, but he was removed from the ranks of the Einherjar, though precisely why was never made public. The rumor was he had stolen something from the royal treasury, but whatever he took was so secret that the case was dropped rather than reveal its existence. It was a scandal at the time, but that was over ninety years ago.”

“Do you know where to find him?” Loki asked.

“No, but Volstagg might,” Thor said. “I believe they were distantly related, third cousins or something of that sort.”

“Peter,” Loki said, putting his hands gently on the boy’s shoulders, “I know you wish to keep your condition a secret, and I do not blame you. I will do what I can to protect you, but if you must testify in the open before my father, would you do so? It may save Anthony’s life.”

“Yes,” Peter said immediately.

“Good man,” Loki said, smiling at him. “Stay here today. The wards on my rooms will keep you safe. Open the door to no one. If I wish to return, I will let myself in. Thor, where would Volstagg be now?”

“It’s near noon,” Thor said. “Eating, probably.”

“You mean definitely,” Loki said.

They found him in the third eating house they tried, thankfully not yet drunk but surrounded by the bones of no fewer than fifteen fish.

“Do you know where your kinsman Bjarne is?” Thor asked, not pausing.

“That rascal?” Volstagg said, and laughed. “He’s not worth speaking of. Come, Thor, try this salmon. It is beyond delicious!”

“We need to know where he is,” Thor said. “It is a matter of life or death. . . though that does look excellent.”

“The best in Asgard,” Volstagg said, laughing again. “Come, come, nothing with that fellow can be of importance.”

“It can and it is,” Loki said, giving Thor a glare that stopped him in the middle of reaching for one of the remaining fish. “Where is he?”

“He stays in a rented room above the Golden Lark Tavern,” Volstagg said. “He would be there now. He never wakes before mid-afternoon.”

“I know where that is,” Loki said, and without another word hestrode quickly out the door.

Thor caught up to him a moment later, and with a roll of his eyes, Loki realized he had taken one of the fish with him.

“I don’t want my stomach rumbling when we interrogate him,” Thor said.

Loki shook his head and muttered, “How are we even related?”

Loki teleported both of them immediately to the tavern’s front door. Loki walked through it, Thor following in his wake.

“I need to find Bjarne,” Loki said to a man standing behind a bar. “Where is he?”

“Third door on the right at the top of the stairs,” the man said.

“That was oddly easy,” Thor said as they went up.

“Apparently he’s none too popular here,” Loki said.

He didn’t bother to knock at the door, choosing instead to blast it open with magic. The result was a scream from the man inside, who tried to run past them.

“Bjarne,” Thor said, stopping him easily with a firm hand on his shoulder. “I would say seeing you again is a pleasure, but that would be a lie.”

“Prince Thor,” he said, blinking his mismatched eyes. “Why are you here?”

“My brother would have words with you,” Thor said, and Bjarne stared at Loki as though he hadn’t noticed him before.

“You work sometimes as a courier,” Loki said. “We know this already, so do not bother to deny it. My question concerns a message you delivered roughly a year ago to Niflheim. Do you recall that?”

“Hard not to,” the man said. “It’s the only time I’ve ever been in that realm, and I hope it’s the last.”

“Who hired you?” Loki said.

“It would be against professional ethics to say,” the man said.

Loki moved his fingers gracefully through the air and produced a dagger from nowhere.

“Try again,” he said. “Who hired you?”

“Bald fellow who lived in a metalworker’s shop about two miles from here next to a bakery,” Bjarne said very quickly.

“I’m glad your understanding of ethics has improved,” Loki said. “Now, what did the letter say?”

“How should I know? It was sealed,” he said.

“You’re lying,” Thor said.

“Yes, he is,” Loki said. “The possibility of getting information for potential blackmail must have been far too tempting, yet, in spite of the appealing contents of the letter, you remained silent, which means the consequences of trying to get gold out of your employers were too terrible to consider using what you had learned. So, what did the letter say? I assure you, whatever tortures you think either of them would have visited upon you, I am capable of far, far worse.”

“And he’s not lying,” Thor said.

Bjarne’s eyes flicked between the pair of them, then he closed them tightly before saying, “He was making a deal with someone named Thanos about selling weapons. He could send samples of weapons to him, even gave him a blueprint that was crispy with burn marks as an extra incentive he could play with. Thanos was supposed to change them around so they weren’t easily recognizable, with the only condition of their arrangement being he was to keep secret where the weapons came from for the time being. The amount of gold he wanted was enough to dwarf the treasure rooms of many a king, and I brought a message back accepting the deal and a big box full of coins.”

“Thanos,” Loki said to Thor. “The Mad Titan. So that’s who’s been behind this. He’s no mage, but he has enough resources to hire the best—or the worst, as the case may be.”

“I’ll bring this to father,” Thor said, gesturing with disgust to Bjarne. “But the other man? Obadiah? Where is he now?”

“Leave that to me,” Loki said, a grin curling his lips, and he disappeared.

But, when he arrived at the workshop, no one was there. Loki broke open the door of Obadiah’s room, but there was no need. It was empty, his things gone. He had escaped.