Thaw (MCU//PJO)

Chapter 4

By the time everyone made it to Jason Grace's chambers, he had gone.

Your Majesty,

I think an explanation for you is in order. I did in fact know the man who attacked the gala last night, and I am truly sorry for not informing you of this sooner. For quite some time, I believed he was dead and was trying to get my bearings together before I informed anyone. I am aware this is treason, and so I have taken my things and left this realm in the hopes you will mercifully spare my life. Do yourself a favour and don't go after me or the man- I'm pursuing him as we speak.

-Jason Grace.

The note was scribbled down quickly with a few spelling mistakes, for Grace had been in a hurry to leave. He'd taken his things, too. Loki read the note aloud to everyone who was in the room with him. Upon hearing it, Odin sighed.

"Jason Grace was a good man," he said. "I didn't expect this from him," he shook his head. "In the year he served as Commander and the months before that he served in the army, he did many things for this Kingdom and for me. I want him dead the second we get rid of our attacker. Amora, Loki, Frigga, start preparing for the spell. I want this killer and his aid at my mercy by next week. Not a moment later." He was agitated as he walked away, you could hear it in his voice. Betrayal.

In the next few hours, Loki read every book about Location Magic that he could find in the palace library, carefully scouring every page with intense scrutiny. He sat that way for a long time, wanting nothing more than to please his Kingdom, to please his father. And, selfish as it seemed, Loki couldn't help but wonder if he'd get glory from this. He imagined the people of Asgard realising it had not been their precious Thor who had saved them, but rather his sorcerer brother. Would he become a contender for King then? He practically jumped for joy at the thought, but all excitement faded when he felt Amora's hand on his shoulder. He looked up at her green eyes, which were calm- a sharp contrast to his panicked ones.

"It's time," she said, and his heart dropped to his stomach.

Frigga, Loki and Amora sat in a circle in a dim room with only a few candles illuminating. Nobody else was present other than Odin, who sat a good distance away so he could see what was happening. The three sorcerers held hands and closed their eyes, a ball of energy they had channelled forming in the middle of them all. They began chanting, visualising the man very clearly in his head.

Loki remembered his grin, his bright, sea-green eyes, his dark hair, the lightning scars that rippled across his brown skin, and he wondered how someone so beautiful, so ethereal- almost like a masterfully created piece of art, could have a heart so ruthless.

Sometimes you meet someone who, visually, looks like the Norns themselves molded them with clay, like they spent years trying to make that person completely perfect. But the issue was that they had spent so much time refining and perfecting the exterior that the interior was neglected, and they forgot to give that person the things that made someone someone.

The man wasn't given emotions, he wasn't given sanity, nor kindness- perhaps he wasn't even given love. That made Loki pity him, for, although love was not something he particularly enjoyed, there was something beautiful about experiencing it. Something bewitching about looking at someone and feeling that feeling that you got in your stomach as it did backflips and bumped into your heart, making it beat so fast you'd think you'd get a heart attack. Yes, there was something utterly magnificent about the way love made you feel for another being, and Loki felt total sorrow at the thought someone may not feel that way, whether for a friend, for a lover or a family member.

Then it came to him. An image coming to life in his head. The three of them said it in perfect unison, their eyes snapping open at the exact same time. "Midgard. North America."