It seems cruelly mocking yet strangely comforting that absolutely nothing seems out of place in front of the Queen's chambers. Loki finds himself staring at the same wooden door behind which he expects to find the same chambers he has visited countless times throughout his life.

One thing was out of place though.

Loki would always go to Frigga alone. He would come for his lessons, alone, as no one was as advanced as him to learn the art of magic with him. He would spend hours sitting on the comfortable carpet with his mother seated opposite to him. She would patiently explain spells which were getting more complicated with each year. She would never forget to mention that the spell is very advanced; much older sorcerers have tried but failed to master the spell and so Loki must not feel disappointed if he cannot make the spell work immediately.

Loki would not say anything. He was completely absorbed in his mother's monologue. To him, it seemed almost as a song. A song much more beautiful and melodic than those sang during the feasts about the valiant warriors of Asgard who died glorious death serving this realm. Frigga's song, however, was sang about the deepest and most delicate secrets of magic by the voice of his mother filled with love, care and protection. Loki cherished and appreciated those moments of serenity; the world stopped existing and the only thing he knew was that he was good at what he was learning and that his mother loved him and was proud of him.

Such happy thoughts would leave him instantly upon exiting the Queen's chambers and coming back to the world where his brother was the only one deserving of attention, acknowledgement, or affection. The world in which his father's eyes would be filled with disappointment or ridicule upon hearing any of Loki's stories, suggestions or wishes.

Yet despite fully enjoying the moments of Frigga's melodic voice filling the chambers, Loki was concentrated on the meaning of her words. He knew he had talent; he would always doubt its use when around his father, brother, his brother's friends, or pretty much every citizen of Asgard, but deep down he was aware, even in the deepest moments of despair coming from feeling worthless, he was still aware that he truly was special. They all might have been trying to take that knowledge from him, ridicule him and laugh at him to the point that he would question himself and everything he stood for, but deep down he knew that he had a real talent for magic.

It seemed that he was born to become a sorcerer.

He comforted himself with this thought.

Somehow, it made sense.

Thor was born to become a king. Anyone could see that. He was truly his father's son. But Loki was also born into this family. Somehow, he felt like an outsider; he was so different from them. But then he would remind himself of his gift for magic; the talent he shared with his mother. And he would feel that he indeed is part of the family. That Thor can be the heir of the throne while he will be the heir of the ancient knowledge only his mother knows. He could live with that. He never wanted the throne anyway and he knew that a powerful sorcerer can be a match to even such a warrior as Thor. If he works hard enough, they can be equal.

But those times were long gone; the childish hope long lost with the gained knowledge of his true parentage.

But in the happier times, Loki would focus all his attention to his mother's words, remembering and understanding each little part of them, reading between the lines to comprehend how every breath mattered when uttering the spells, how delicate the art truly was. He would never interrupt Frigga even if some part of the spell seemed confusing or if the history of the spell seemed too boring. By the end of the Queen's speech, it all started to make sense.

When Frigga finished, she would look at Loki. He knew it to be the signal for him to try the spell out.

He never, not even once, failed to make the spell work.

Loki didn't know what he appreciated more. If his own skill or the proud and always slightly surprised look in his mother's eyes when he defied all expectations by mastering a spell which should have been far too complicated for him.

The triumph would always be short-lived, of course. There was no one who would listen if Loki tried to tell them what his mother has taught him. He tried to tell father when he was very, very young. Odin would not tell him off nor he would stop him, but Loki could sense that he never really listened, never really cared. He didn't listen to him the way he listened to Thor. Sometimes Loki would talk to Odin anyway, pretending to himself that his father was listening, that he only didn't express the praise.

Once, Loki heard his parents' private conversation. He was sneaking through the palace when he saw them standing in one of the gardens. His name was what caught his attention and so he stayed, hidden behind a column, shielded with a spell.

"You never listen to him. Not truly. Loki is a perceptive child, Odin, he can tell."

"I listen to him, Frigga. He is my son."

"Then treat him like your son. He has a gift of empathy, but if you keep dismissing him as you do, that gift can turn into curse."

"Empathy? His kind is not…"

"Husband!"

"I am sorry."

"Loki is a very empathetic child, Odin. For the sake of all of us, please, just try to understand him."

It was the last time Loki sneaked up on his parents. He didn't want to hear more. He ran away before the conversation was over. Never again would he spy on his parents. He didn't want to listen to them talking about him. It hurt.

A lot of thoughts are flooding Loki's head now when he is standing in front of the entrance to his mother's chambers. It feels strange to be standing here with Thor. When Frigga was alive, they would never come to her chambers together.

The stranger thing was, however, that they were waiting for the Allfather.

The idea of Odin sent a shiver down Loki's spine. Since they settled down in Loki's chambers, the younger brother found himself paranoid that any second the door would open, and he would be dragged back to his cell. Then his mind began playing even more cruel tricks upon him. He could be banished to Jotunheim. Or to any planet suitable for unloved and useless things.

Loki tried to sleep. He did manage to get some rest throughout the afternoon while Thor would bath in the next room and sit on the balcony, surely admiring the glory of the realm that will one day be his. Loki went straight to bed and tried to sleep.

They brought dinner for both of them to his chambers for which Loki was grateful. The brothers ate in silence. Then a healer came to change the bandage on their burnt hands. She applied a special ointment on Thor's hands burn by the Frost Giant's touch and then bandaged their hands only in light gauze which enabled them to use their fingers.

And now they are here.

Summoned by Odin.

What he could possibly want from them Loki didn't know.

"My sons." Odin's voice came seemingly out of nowhere. The brothers turned.

"Oh, please. Stop saying that. You're not fooling anyone." Loki rolled his eyes.

"You are my sons whether you like it or not, Loki." Odin said, trying to sound patient.

"Well…it is good that it isn't whether you like it. If that was the case, it would be one son less." Loki retorted.

"Frigga would not want this to be discussed in front of her chambers."

"Do you think you can just bring mother up anytime you want to silence me?" Loki challenged.

"No. But I can bring the dungeons up." Odin replied.

And Loki opened his mouth to mock the Allfather, but no words came out. He was afraid of the dungeons and Odin knew it. He couldn't return there. He just couldn't. And he knew that Odin would gladly put him there. All he needed was an excuse; an excuse which would justify putting Loki back to that cell so that Odin's conscience could be clear. He gave Loki a chance. The Trickster threw it away. Look, Frigga, I listened to your advice. Loki doesn't appreciate the mercy I have shown him. And so he is back in his cell. This time for good. Odin would win a double price – he would get rid of Loki while attempting to listen to the advice of his beloved wife.

Loki will not let Odin win a double price. At least that's what he told himself when he didn't dare to reply to the Allfather's threat. It wasn't because of fear of that small, never-changing place. No. Not at all.

And Odin clenched his teeth and narrowed his eyes, but only in his mind. On façade, he stayed perfectly calm and emotionless. Yet inside he knew that he botched it. Once again, he gave Loki a reason to hate him. But, and this bothered Odin even more, once again he gave Loki a reason to fear him. His son will keep quiet, but it was because of fear, not understanding. Odin fought the urge to fight his way inside Loki's mind right now; he needed to know what the boy was thinking, what was actually going on inside his head at the moment. He needed to understand him so that he could find the right thing to say. But he knew that if he defied Loki's privacy once again, as he did with the truth spell, Loki would have one more slight for which to never forgive him.

"Why did you summon us, the Allfather?" Loki asked finally. His voice was strong, but Odin could sense that his son was nervous.

"I actually have a task for you, Loki. And as long as the spell binding you two together stays, Thor must be present as well." Odin answered.

"A task for Loki?" Thor questioned, slightly confused.

"Yes, inside the Queen's chambers. Let's talk there." Odin gestured towards the doors. Thor nodded slightly and opened the door to step in. Loki had no possibility but to follow him inside if he didn't want to feel the effect of the spell.

Stepping inside Frigga's chambers himself and closing the door, Odin wondered whether he was doing the right thing. Maybe what his sons needed was to be shown real trust. Yet truth to be told, Loki didn't have Odin's trust. The Allfather needed to know where his son stood. He would continue with his plan. In the end, Thor will never be in real danger.

Not really.

What do you think that Odin could be planning?