To Be Equal
By Twin Kats

By all and any rights Loki had fled the minute he had left that room. His steps had been quick and his movements silent as he stalked the stone halls of the stone building. He shivered from an unseen cold, although he had to wonder just what cold it was that could cause him to shiver. Truthfully Loki had never been touched by cold before, although the summer heats are a different manner entirely.

So what he felt, the Asgard Prince knew, was not a chilling cold bleeding into his skin, but a bone deep cold that held some sort of meaning. Either way it had Loki wrapping his arms tight around himself, rubbing warmth into warmless skin beneath fabric and armor. His green cape swirled about his feet as he moved in an unseen wind.

Loki stalked deep into the bowls of the stone building, with no thought nor direction to his movements. The cold slowly seeped away and warmth crept lightly into his bones which still ached from the fight he'd had with Thor not many hours before, and then coupled with his rather rambunctious actions the minute he had collapsed out of the pathways…yes, Loki was tired, and aching, and sore, and battered. He wanted to sleep and hide for as long as he could.

He could barely stand on his own two feet now, even. It was only sheer stubbornness that kept him remotely steady as he walked. Deeper and deeper and deeper into the stone depths he traveled until he could go no deeper. There he stumbled through a door and into a rather empty room. He near collapsed through the threshold, righting himself in the last second as his gaze blearily swept the room a second time.

A bed had mysteriously appeared.

The God of Mischief did not ponder where the bed came from, only that there was a bed there and that he could finally rest. Ignoring the aches and pains of his bones and his bruises had taken its toll. All he wanted was to sleep and hopefully never wake up. It is what a monster deserves, he thinks.

It is what Loki deserves.

The Prince scoffs softly to himself and curls up, closing his eyes and drifting off into a fit off dreams. He never notices how his skin pales into a shade of frosty blue as the magic hiding his nature bleeds away. He is too exhausted.

Still Loki sleeps and Loki dreams, and they are unhappy and fitful dreams, but Loki does not wake.

He is back in that ancient Vault, the tomb of relics, of Odin's conquests. He stands before the Casket of Ancient Winters, the last relic that Odin obtains before he finishes warring with the other realms. The relic Odin steals from Jotunheim.

Hesitantly his fingers raise, he breathes out shakily. He wonders if he dares to touch the Casket, if his nightmares would bleed true? Would his skin change colors, would his eyes burn red? It frightens him, terrifies him, but he wants to know. He needs to know. His fingers brush and he lifts and Odin arrives to interrupt him.

He sets the Casket down heavily but already his fears are confirmed and it just matters if his questions will be answered. He hesitates to turn around, to break the silence between him and his father who may not be his father. But he swallows his pride, he needs to know, needs to ask, needs to understand.

"Am I cursed?" he says.

"No," the Allfather replies.

He turns around and his skin is horribly blue, terribly blue. His eyes are blood red and burning and glowing and he feels so cold. It scares him, this strange face and strange form that is not his own and yet it is, it really, truly is….

"What am I?" he asks, his voice wavering ever so slightly. The blue bleeds back to pale pink and he feels warm again, like himself again, but not. He's a parody of Asgard flesh, not truly Asgard, not truly himself anymore. He feels distant and weak.

"You are my son," Odin pleads.

Wrong. He feels wrong. He swallows heavily and takes slow measured steps towards Odin. Slow and measured because he fears if he doesn't move slow and measured he'll wobble and fall and collapse and cry and rage all at once.

"The casket wasn't the only thing you took from Jotunheim that day, was it?" he clarifies and holds his breath. He begs silently for Odin to deny it, to lie and acclaim it was all joke. He really is cursed and not a Jotun, not a Frost Giant. He's not a monster, he can't be. He's a Prince of Asgard, not a mockery hidden by magicks, not a changeling in fake skin.

But Odin does not hear his silent pleas, his silent beggings, and bares his fears true.

"No," he says, his voice subdued. "In the aftermath of the battle, I went to the temple, and I found a baby. Small for a giants offspring. Abandoned. Suffering. Left to die. Laufey's son."

He hears himself repeat, distantly, disbelieving, "Laufey's son?"

"Yes."

And it hurts, it hurts so much, so, so much. It hurts that his—that Laufey didn't want him because he was small, he was weak. Always weak, he wonders, was he always this weak? Has his chest always felt like it is burning? Has his eyes always stung so? Has air always been so hard to take in, to breathe?

His world is crumbling and yet there is still more to find out, still more to know. Still he needs to know why? Why take a child, why take an offspring of a giant, why this ruse, why raise him as his own? Why lie?

"Why?" he asks, and his breath is quicker, more frightened. If Odin notices he does nothing to comfort, and if he thinks back Odin never truly offers Loki comfort in the past either. "You were knee deep in Jotun blood. Why would you take me?"

Odin doesn't answer and his breath quickens further. He tries to puzzle out why this man he has looked to as Father for years would do what he does but can find no answer. He panics and screams out, "TELL ME!" because he needs to know, he needs to understand, and can't Odin see that?

"I thought we could unite our kingdoms one day. Bring about an alliance. Bring about a permanent peace, through you," Odin finally says and he is lost, confused. He doesn't understand.

"What?" he says, weak and broken. He feels so small, nothing fits right in his mind. Everything is so, so wrong. The world is crumbling and falling and he can't stop it. He can't set it right, he can't even see where it went so wrong. Why is his world crumbling, why is his father standing away from him? Where is his mother, where are the arms he longs for, the comforting words he wishes to hear?

Where is Thor, his brother? Everything is all messed up and twisted and broken. Nothing fits.

"But those plans no longer matter," Odin states sadly and he truly is lost now. He isn't following his father's logic. How are these plans lost, what were these plans in the first place? Why has he not ever told him, why did Odin keep it secret?

Did Odin not trust Loki?

"So I am no more than another stolen relic," he says, his eyes wide and pained. He tries to make his father's words make sense. "Locked up, here, until you might have use of me."

"Why do you twist my words?" Odin demands and he shakes his head. No, no, his father isn't making sense!

"You could have told me what I was from the beginning! Why didn't you?" he asks instead, because it has to make sense, somewhere, somehow, everything should connect and his world will right again, won't it?

"You're my son," Odin states. "I only wanted to protect you from the truth."

No, he thinks, that can't be. How is this protecting him? How is this protecting Loki? So he questions, he pushes, he wants to understand.

"What? Because I—I—I—" he stumbles for the words, they catch in his throat. He's afraid, so afraid, and he feels so cold. "I'm the monster that parents tell their children about at night?" he finally finishes, and pleads to Odin. To his father.

Please, father, don't let this be true.

"No!" Odin says quietly, he's sitting down, but Loki is not watching. He cannot watch, he's trying to figure out what his father is saying. He needs to understand.

The words spill out before he can stop them, the bitterness coats his tone. He wonders if this is why he's always been treated like a guest in what should have been his own home.

"It all makes so much sense now," he spits out like acid. "Why you favored Thor, all these years!" The rage build and builds and builds and he steps closer to his father. His voice raises and he ignores the hand, he ignores the silent and weak look on Odin's face. He's too far gone. "Because no matter how much you claim to love me, you couldn't have a Frost Giant sitting on your throne of Asgard!"

It all makes sense and he feels a dark and burning and festering strange emotion curling up inside him. Its like humiliation and bitterness and jealously and pride and sorrow and pain and hatred all wrapped into one tiny cocoon. He's so far gone he doesn't realize his father isn't replying until he looks. Then he stumbles, falls down beside Odin.

Loki's throat is tight, his eyes are burning again, and he feels like something has lodged itself right beneath his chin. No! he thinks. Don't do this to me! Not now! You still haven't explained! I still don't understand!

But Odin is ill and sick and no longer aware of the world around him and Loki is lost and alone and confused and there's nothing he can do, no way to understand, no one to help him figure out these burning questions. There is no comfort, only cold and loneliness and bitterness and festering anger and hatred.

And he thinks, he thinks that this might just be his fault. His fault that Odin now sleeps, that Odin is now in a wakeful death. That Odin is not here, and neither is Thor. It's all his fault his father might just be dead, forever.

That's what probably hurts him the most.

Loki awakens sharp and quick. His eyes snap open and his skin feels taunt and painful. He doesn't notice that the glamours had faded while he slept and he's Jotun blue, but he does feel the dried, encrusted, and frozen tears along his face, tugging at his cheeks. He sits up slowly and stretches just a bit as the glamours inch their way back across his skin until he's Asgardian pink once more.

Tiredly Loki rubs at his eyes, he wonders what dream he had to make him cry so in his own sleep, but pushes the thoughts aside. He's tired and famished and he knows how Midgard affects those who step upon her earthly shores. His magic has waned from its overuse, and his body is in need of nourishment to replenish his stores.

Loki stands, and he's thankful when he feels not even the barest of tinges in his chest, or where his bruises must've been. They all healed up with his rest and so he has no more a remainder for what happened before. Loki can't help but think that this is good, he doesn't want any reminders. He just wants to be.

For now though he needs to figure out just where he is (besides that it's Midgard, to which he can tell with the simple taste of the air and how his magic thrums, just a bit different and just a tad weaker) and maybe find a kitchen for some food. And then he'll wander off and seek out entertainment (or maybe even that little green eyed chaos and death) and relax and just relish in being free.

He deftly ignores the cost of his freedom as he wraps himself in a cloak of invisibility and magic and steps out into the stone halls. He drags his fingers lightly along the walls, nails scraping and scratching against the stone, but oddly soothing. His feet wander and his mind remains just a tad shy of blank (only thoughts of food truly occupying them) as he moves.

Eventually he finds his way into the main hall of this place and comes to a halt. There before him is his little chaos and death (and he does not really ponder on why the mortal is his, because Loki has always named things and people of prospect amusement as his; even Thor was his, not that Thor knew) talking with a fair haired child that looks like a strange amalgam of an offspring of Thor and Heimdall.

Loki isn't too sure if that's a terrifying thought, or an amusing one.

What he does know is that this girl can see him, see through his enchantments in much the same way Heimdall could before he learned from Yggdrasil's hidden spiderways, and yet, Loki realizes, this girl could probably even see him then too. She's like Heimdall two-point-oh only shorter and weaker and dreadfully mortal. Loki can't help his lips twitching upwards at the strange thought.

He really is quite hungry.

Loki sighed and leaned against the stone wall, his gaze on his little chaos and death and glancing every now and then at the she-Heimdall who would, every now and then, glance at him. He decided to wait until either she left, or his little chaos and death left, and then ask the remainder for the path to some food.

The choice was taken right out of his hands, unfortunately, by Heimdall's errant butt-baby. Loki's lips quirked as he mentally swore to himself to never, ever repeat that phrase in Heimdall's presence. Ever.

That didn't mean he'd keep it from Thor, though…a near delicious cackle almost escaped his throat. His stomach rumbled instead.

Still, the girl spoke up, and Loki found himself shedding the spell of invisibility with a sigh.

"You do realize, God of Mischief, that you are among friends here?"

Loki's lips twitched into a sardonic smile as he uttered, "Do your All Seeing Eyes tell you that little mortal, or are you just making me comfortable?"

The girl just smiled and walked away, not even finishing her conversation with Loki's little chaos and death. Loki snorted.

"Rather rude," he muttered, "but if she is Heimdall's spawn…." He rolled his eyes. It was highly unlikely.

"Er…Loki, is it?" the boy said softly and Loki's gaze drifted towards him and a truer smile split is face.

"You wouldn't happen to know where the kitchen is, would you?" he asked. "I'm quite famished. Not sure how long I've been sleeping, but I feel like I haven't eaten for weeks!"

It took a bit of goading but eventually the mortal boy (and that really bothered Loki for some reason; like an itch somewhere that he couldn't quite scratch, but he wouldn't stop unless he had proof) lead the way towards the kitchens and some grub. Loki couldn't be sure but the child seemed…lighter, somehow. Like some good news had finally reached his ears.

Or that could just be the relief of his stomach talking, since he was finally getting some food.

Summary: Loki fell, and to everyone on Asgard, seemed lost. On Midgard, 1996, a certain God of Mischief finds himself trapped with his own demons, and curious to spite himself. Who was this boy that tasted lightly of frost? Loki needed to know. / HPThor crossover / HarryLoki

The end of this chapter was written when I was practically starving. Right up until the sentence He was really quite hungry had been written. Then I got some food and settled down to write some more.

So yeah, Loki's hunger? More like the author's hunger…stupid lack of food in this house.

Anyway I would like to say oh dear god so many reviews! Seriously, I right about fainted when I saw the number in my inbox. If this is the attention I get for writing in a comic fandom, even partially—! I should write in comic fandoms more often!

Seriously, I don't get much praise elsewhere…you guys are so awesome. I worked extra hard to spit this chapter out just for you!

For my Anon reviewers, thank you for taking the time to leave a review! As for questions that have been asked here is the simple Q&A chart below:

Q This is Book 5 at the Department of Mysteries right?
A Yup
Q The blonde, is that Lucius?
A Yup. Loki decked Lucius Malfoy.
Q Is the child Harry, Insane-one Voldie and Fawks the bird?
A Yup on all accounts
Q Romance between Loki and Harry?
A Yes, this is a Loki and Harry gay romance. There may even be bits of Thor. I'm still debating.

As an interesting note I got asked on when Loki appears next movie wise (granted I feel I should note, dear Anon, that there IS one more HP movie coming out this summer: Deathly Hallows Part 2) and I feel I should point out that I do not know this. I have heard rumors, and according to IMDB (which oftentimes is FAIRLY trustworthy, but sometimes they get tricked) that Tom Hiddleston WILL be returning as Loki in The Avengers in 2012, but don't trust me. Go look it up yourselves!

(I feel I should also point out however that the Avengers were created originally to combat Loki, or at least one of the Avengers groups were, and since Thor is in this one, its most likely that they'll be going with the Loki-combat created Avengers; which is awesome 'cuz more Hiddleston! Yay!)

I feel I should also point out to my dear Anon that Midgard is Earth, Vanaheim is home of the Vanir, the cousins of the Aesir, and Asgard is home of the Aesir. Loki was raised upon Asgard, as a son of Odin, and an Aesir. Aesir from what I understand are more warring, while Vanir are more similar to your greek gods and goddesses. Meaning they sleep around a lot and focus on beauty a lot or something. I don't know. I just know that the Vanir and the Aesir are kind of cousins.

And of course Helheim I think it is spelt is the underworld. Funny how Loki's own daughter ends up ruler there, don't you think? Then again she is half-corpse…

There's a reason why Loki is called the 'Mother of Monsters' after all. Not just because he tends to birth them, but his own child do tend to be monsters….