The Trickster and the Mortal- LOKANE

Eight

He and Thor were taught to fight by Odin's finest general, Sterkt, and they were taught well, but Odin never cared to teach them himself until Loki was eighteen. To be honest, there was never really a reason for Thor to learn how to fight, not with his hammer that hit whatever he aimed for. Loki however, preferred to do things himself. In fact, if he had a choice, he wouldn't even be living in this ridiculous palace on the edge of Asgard, but his illusions had a range of how far they could be, and it was important to keep Asgard calm with an illusion of Odin. As long as no one tried to touch the Allfather, Loki would remain safe. The servants in the palace were well paid not to reveal that he was alive, or else they knew the consequences. Loki lifted his leather sleeve just enough to show where Jane had touched his arm. It remained normal and pale as it was, contrary to his other arm, where cracks has stopped growing, but stung and burned when touched. Loki had gone deep into Vanaheim, looking for someone who was willing to heal him and keep his secret. But there were none, and the cracks only got worse. His own magic wouldn't work on them, and if all this came from a dream, then he wondered how powerful the Aether had made Jane become. 

Loki held his carving knife to the corner of a piece of driftwood he'd found in Alfheim a few years ago. The bleached white ash, similar to the kind that had been used to create man, was harder and more difficult to chip, but the knife he used was of great craftsmanship and cut through the wood like it were snow. The sun glinted off the edge of the knife when he shifted it, and the handle, bound in leather, was soft and worn. He had received the knife for on one his birthdays, he couldn't remember which. It was when he was young, and not the villain of the story yet. He used it, rounding the corners, carving out the curved areas, and began to add the details of the goat's horns. 

Feeling satisfied with the horns, he began to add little slits to show the fur, and began outlining the horns with his knife. Then he paused. A rustling in the leaves. He looked around, spotting Elise. 

"I wouldn't have minded if you'd just shown yourself in the first place." He said, carving the legs of the goat now.

 "I heard the story." Elise mentioned, taking a place next to him on the small log. She pressed her lips together as if dying to ask something. Loki looked up briefly. "What?"

"Why were you so angry at her for touching your arm? Just touching your arm?"

"I don't know what you think, but I don't exactly enjoy having people touch me, here and there." Loki replied, carving a bit more forcefully. 

"I know it was more than that. And you do know what I think, I remember you telling me."

Of course she remembered, the woman remembered everything. She was ancient. 

"That's absolutely wonderful." Loki said sarcastically. He chipped off a piece too big, and now the leg was completely wrong. He adjusted his hands a little, thinking and absently blocking out whatever Elise was saying. It was beginning to look like one of his better carvings, until the hock had been cut off. He remembered the way Jane had looked at his falcon. She had admired the details, and it wasn't even his best. And even if he hated to admit it, he had beamed with pride, somewhere deep inside. He began evening out the course edge of the mistake, and cut the other leg to make it even. After finishing the hoof, he realized that Elise had been talking to him for the last twenty minutes.

"Loki?" Elise interrupted his daze.

Loki blinked once or twice then looked up. "What?" 

"You haven't spoken for the last half hour."

Loki snatched a flask of water the servants had prepared, and drank the cool water. When he finished, he opened his mouth to speak, and then- it burned. It burned like white fire slicing through skin that had been pressed against ice for days. His neck split, split into what felt like a million pieces, the cracks spread over his neck like black, dead branches of pain. Green spots appeared in his eye, not that he could see before through his stinging eyes. He was no stranger to pain, but this was not pain, it was agony. He could not teleport through this. "Get the mortal! Go!" He hissed through his clenched teeth. Elise's eyes were wide and afraid. "Yes- of course- the girl-" She ran, ran for the palace faster than Loki had ever seen her run, and came back only after what felt like an eternity. He lay on the leaves, silent. He swallowed. He hated the idea of needing the girl to heal him, but Jane did not mock him. She kneeled by him, gently, gracefully. With what looked like- wait for it- concern. Loki laid still, surprised but still immobile. 

"What do I do?" Jane asked with fear in her voice.