Birthright

Exiled .....

"DO IT. NOW...."

"Goodbye, my son. Always remember I love you..."

He sat upright, bathed in sweat, breathing heavily. Groaning, he pushed the sheets to the side and swung his legs round. He glanced at the bedside clock. 3.45am. Rubbing his eyes, he sighed.

Same nightmare, different day. It had been a while since he'd had it, but predictably, it was back. The faceless male voice, booming into his head. The sobbing woman. The feeling of falling and then the waking up. Sweating, shaking, and undeniably afraid.

Tea. He needed tea. When the terrors had first started, he'd tried beer, then whisky. Neither had dulled the ache or stopped the dreams. So now, he'd resorted to tea. It almost worked. It was warm, soothing, and more importantly, there was no hangover.

"Thomas? Are you ok?" The female voice behind him asked groggily. He half turned. "Go back to sleep, Brenda. It's nothing."

"Betty."

"Sorry. Betty... go back to sleep." He ran his hands through his long hair and stood up, slipping on the silk robe. His skin seemed almost like pale marble in the moonlight. His muscles sharply defined by the sheen of sweat now engulfing him.

Dark runic tattoos covered his arms and chest. Even now, he couldn't remember a time before his tattoos. Another mystery. He had little memory beyond the previous few years. Only fuzzy recollections of a family and a blonde boy. Maybe one day he would remember. Feel connected.

Betty was just another in a long line of attempts to feel connected. Just feel. Something. Anything. Other than lost, other than adrift in a world where he knew he didn't belong.

He padded barefoot out of the bedroom and into the kitchen. The tiles were cold beneath his feet, bringing the night into sharp focus. Quietly, he made his tea and took the mug through to the living room. Before he sat down, he looked out the window.

It was dark, of course, but the lights of the city glittered out in front of him like a sparkling carpet. There was something oddly comforting in it, something familiar, but yet...

"Can you see him?" She stood next to the tall figure, straining to see anything across the night sky.

"I see him. He is disturbed again. His latest woman did little to console him. He needs... he needs to know the truth. It's the only way he will ever find peace." Heimdal turned and looked at the tall woman standing next to him. She had the bearing of a queen but the pain of a mother. A mother who had lost a son.

"Thank you, Heimdal. Loki can never know the truth as long as his father lives. The price would be too great. This way? This way, I know he is safe, and I know he is alive." She nodded and walked away. Heimdal bowed.

As gatekeeper and watchman for Asgard, it was his responsibility to over see the nine realms and the trillions of souls therein. Loki, the fallen Prince, was just one such soul.

He had been responsible for carrying out Odin's punishment that day. He had been the one to twist the sword in the mechanism and send Loki back to the world he'd tried to conquer.

Memories wiped, desire to rule quashed. Loki had been exiled from his family, his life, his own mind. Heimdal still questioned its wisdom. The alternative, however, would have been worse. A living hell. Eternity - or as near as dammit - in a cell in Asgard's dungeon. A stone's throw from his mother, unable to even hug her.

She had begged Odin. Cajoled and promised. Ultimately sacrificing her own happiness to save, as she saw it, her son.

He turned from his place on the Brifrost platform and watched as Queen Frigga rode in her chariot - pulled by her cats - back to the palace. She was a strong, noble woman, but she was a mother. First and foremost.

Divested by his mother's magic, of his powers and his memory and given the life of someone else, he'd lived among them. Written histories of sagas he now believed were myths. Published books on legends he had once helped to create. Watched over by the Midgardian authorities and his Brother, the only people who knew the truth, he'd become someone else.

They'd counted on Frigga's magic, being strong enough to save him. They'd agreed it would be a compromise with which they could all live. She'd held his hand and his heart as she'd sent him away.

It was only a matter of time before Odin's time was up. Then, she could restore him. Then they could start again. Loki could come home.

Thomas sighed as he heard the girl stir. Was it that time already? Another night had passed, and he was no nearer the truth. His research had proved fruitless. His parents were dead. He had no living siblings. His life was here. In London.

"Bye Thomas?" Betty stood at the living room door, clutching her coat. They'd met in a bar. Fleeting and anonymous. Now she was going.

He raised a hand in acknowledgement but didn't turn. He knew she would be hurt. He only wished he could feel guilty. He only wished he could feel.

The front door closed along with his eyes. Tonight, he would try again. To sleep. Without dreaming. Without being afraid.