Loki was blue when he woke up that morning.
In any other circumstance, he might have missed it for as long as a minute or two, until his hand happened to pass in front of his face. In this one, there was a mirror on the ceiling, and so he saw it the moment he opened his eyes: A Jotun, staring redly back at him from above. One that continued staring back as Loki called up a glamour that would not come.
"Oh, fuck," he said, and tried again.
Still nothing.
He had to get out of here. He had to find a way to--he still had the Tesseract. Yes. Good.
He reached for it in the inter-dimensional portal where it sat, waiting on his will.
"Fuck, fuck," Loki said when reaching for it resulted in nothing greater than his hand coming into contact with the inside of his pocket. "What the fuck."
It came out sounding absurdly Midgardian, which was for some reason enough to calm the panic. Slightly. Enough that he didn't run out the door next in his haste to be away from here, a move that would have left him out in the corridor of a busy ship. Enough that, by the time he was obliged to vacate his room for the next shift of sleepers, he had decided how best to handle the situation.
*
"I've decided it's time, you see," he told a random person, one whose name Thor most likely knew by now, but which certainly wasn't necessary for Loki to be aware of.
"Time for what, sire?" she asked respectfully, while looking vaguely alarmed. It was difficult to say from whence the alarm came. It might have been because of his current blueness. It might also have been because he was talking to her at all. Everyone outside of a select few had always looked vaguely alarmed when talking to him. Once, Loki had liked it. Now, he simply wished for the clarity to know whether he should be offended or gratified.
"To embrace my true self, of course," he continued smoothly. Then he spotted the person he wanted to see the least, coming toward them. "If you'll excuse me."
"Of course, sire."
It took Loki a moment to decide whether to stand or flee. By the time he'd decided the latter was absolutely preferable, Thor had caught up to him.
They stared at each other a moment.
"Well?" Loki asked. "I'm sure you have something to say. Out with it, whatever it is."
"Loki," Thor said, in a tone that was neither wondering nor disgusted, nor anything in-between. Instead, it was somewhere between impatience and outright anger. "Where have you been? Did you forget about our trip?"
Abruptly, Loki remembered their trip. A diplomatic visit to a nearby planet to obtain fuel and other supplies for the next leg of their journey. Loki always went on these. Thor always insisted he was needed to get them a better deal than they might have obtained otherwise.
Previously, Loki had found being needed to be quite diverting. It helped that each mission was a little different, making each one a new challenge. No one ever wanted to give them anything for free, but Loki could always get it for far less than they'd originally intended to charge. And there was always something worth stealing, as well.
"This isn't a good time," Loki said. "Perhaps tomorrow."
"Everyone's waiting." Thor took hold of Loki's arm and led him toward the shuttle bay.
Perhaps Loki should have expected this; ever since he'd been crowned, Thor had taken the tack of never seeming to heard objections, as if his finally being king meant he could bend reality to fit his will. Yesterday, Loki could have conjured a dagger into his hand and at the very least slowed down this humiliating exercise. As it was, he hadn't bothered to secrete a weapon on his person in several centuries. By the time he wrenched himself out of Thor's grasp, the shuttle bay was within sight.
"There's no need to drag me there, brother," he said once out of Thor's grasp. "I'm happy to help, of course."
"Of course," Thor said, looking suspicious. He always looked suspicious of Loki these days, which was far less gratifying than in the days when he'd never suspected Loki of a thing.
"As always," Loki answered, in a voice as sweet as honey. "Now, who else is coming along today?"
From suspicion to business. Thor wore more faces as king than he ever had before, it seemed. "You, me. Val. Banner."
"Not Heimdall?"
A question asked in as casual a tone as Loki possessed, but that still caused Thor to squint at him with his one eye. "Why would I bring Heimdall when I need him to watch over the ship?"
Loki shrugged. "I simply wondered. Never mind."
This was true enough. There was no reason for Loki to admit that he had intended to head for Heimdall next, with the intention of asking a question.
*
The mission was the opposite of diverting. They kept having to meet with someone above the representative they'd been speaking to before, despite requests that they be immediately directed to someone who could agree to a trade agreement. Every time they met with someone else, the new person required an explanation as to why Loki's appearance was so different from the others. It was maddening. It was wearying. Loki's must have reached for the Tesseract a thousand times, only to be rebuffed a thousand and one.
Finally, fuel and supplies had been obtained, and they returned to the ship.
"You did well, brother," Thor said, deigning only now to appear concerned. "Are you certain you're all right?"
"I'm perfectly well," Loki snapped. "I can't imagine why you would think otherwise."
Thor wasn't as easily stumped as he'd once been, but perhaps he would have tripped over this particular stumbling block no matter when Loki had placed it in front of him. He was still incredibly obviously trying to find a tactful way to point out that Loki had not been blue, had not had lines on his skin or eyes that glowed this time yesterday, when Loki stormed out.
*
Every common space on the Statesman was crowded with people, save one: the viewing deck with the best view of the stars. It was a place reserved for a single person with a single task. Loki could have told them that Heimdall of all people did not actually require privacy; today, for the second time, he was merely relieved to be able to partake in it.
"Ask your question," Heimdall said.
"What makes you think I have one? Perhaps I came here for a fuck."
Heimdall turned to look at him. If Loki hadn't known better, he'd have imagined something like amusement in those golden eyes. "It's common enough among Jotun sorcerers. Shapeshifters, in particular. It will last for a few weeks. Perhaps as long as several months. Then it will pass."
"Months," Loki repeated flatly. "And this happens randomly?"
It didn't seem likely, considering how many decades he'd gone without it ever having happened before. So it wasn't entirely surprising when Heimdall said, "It's a protective mechanism, triggered by a specific event."
"Which is?"
"In other species, this manifests as a sickness, a purging of anything that might cause harm in the early stages of fetal development."
It took Loki a moment to work his way through this. "You're telling me Jotuns can't change their form or do magic when they're pregnant with baby Jotuns."
"That is correct."
"I'm going to kill him," he said, because this made sense now. He'd never been pregnant before, but Thor had never had so many incidents with his powers before, either. These days, it often rained when security councils became heated. Flowers sometimes bloomed in the corridors Thor had walked down. There had been pregnancies, too, at a ratio far beyond anything ever seen on Asgard--not that they'd been attributed to Thor previously, but clearly they should have been. "There must be at least one dagger aboard this ship."
Before he could give regicide an earnest attempt, Heimdall said, "You're neglecting a question."
"Was it the one about guessing games, and why I'm always expected to play them?"
"You haven't asked whether my seed could have anything to do with it."
Loki laughed, more out of surprise than anything else. "Of course it didn't. It can't have."
"And why is that?"
"Because you're not a person. You're a construct."
Loki had learned what Heimdall was centuries ago. It had not been an endeavor that interested Thor, research being rather too bloodless for his taste even if he agreed it was strange for anyone to be able to stand so still for so long without having to eat, or sleep, or piss. When Loki finally decoded the answer in an ancient volume in an even more ancient library, he'd seen no reason to share his new knowledge. Instead, he'd hoarded it against the day when it might become of use. In this days, it had seemed to him there could be nothing better than to know something no one else knew about Heimdall's origins. It had seemed possible and even likely that Odin himself remained ignorant. He'd spent a number of decades rubbing it in, as often as he could make it to the Conservatory. He'd done everything but admit out loud exactly what it was he knew.
"Am I?" Heimdall asked, looking very nearly amused once again.
"You're the machine of Asgard," Loki continued. "No matter what sorcery made you, you couldn't possibly--"
But Heimdall never asked questions as foolish as this one seemed. He certainly never continued in the foolishness.
And yet, he said, "Couldn't I? Look around you, my prince."
So Loki did, and saw what he hadn't before. There were dirty bowls stacked on a nearby table, several empty tankards beside them, and one that was half-full. The pallet in the corner was mussed, as if someone had actually been using it.
Most damning, Heimdall was sitting. In a chair. Had been sitting, when Loki had come in. There should have been no need for him to do that in the midst of his duties.
"What the fuck. Is going on," Loki said.
"I do not believe I am a construct any longer," Heimdall said. "At least, not entirely. I grow weary, when I have never been weary before. I thirst. I hunger for nourishment, among other things."
Loki hadn't expected it to go anywhere. It had been another bad day, his skin left crawling by the desire to get away from this ship, from Thor, from everything. He'd come here, wanting to needle someone, and not wanting it to be someone to be capable or likely to electrocute him. He'd kissed Heimdall, just to see what he would do, if his programming would stumble for once. Then Heimdall had kissed him back, with something that might have been passion if it hadn't been calculated, just the way every one of his actions had to be calculated. It had led to one of the more satisfying fucks Loki had ever had, and turned the end of a very bad day into something considerably better. The best thing about it was how easy it had been, afterward, to pretend it had never happened.
"And you can father children," Loki said.
"I believe so."
The reflexive rage had gone (though Loki still intended to stab Thor many times, in the very near future. Perhaps Heimdall, as well, now that it had the potential to do something). All he felt now was--this could not be happening. "What is it? What does it--look like?"
"It is an embryo, like any other among billions." Heimdall made a motion with thumb and forefinger. "Perhaps this long. I have no way of knowing any more than that yet."
"Delightful." Loki slumped into the chair beside Heimdall. "What, exactly, do you expect me to tell people?"
"There's a formula for that sort of thing," Heimdall said. "It's the same across all the worlds I've ever watched over."
"What is it?"
"'When a Frost Giant and an ancient artificial intelligence love each other very much...'"
There is was. Amusement, clear as day, no longer something that could be dismissed. A flash of Heimdall's teeth, followed by a laugh too real to be thought otherwise. Loki wouldn't have believed it even an hour ago. Today was a day of impossibilities.
"Don't mock me," Loki said.
"I wasn't," Heimdall said.
"Kiss me instead," Loki said, not knowing he meant to say it until it came out, and feeling vaguely like he'd forgotten some reason he really shouldn't have.
Somewhat surprisingly, Heimdall did--and when Loki's tongue parted his lips, he gave a little groan, nothing like a machine at all. There came a sudden clenching and warmth between Loki's thighs.
He pulled away, horrified anew, suddenly remembering what he looked like, what he was, for now and for the next few weeks or months, and even more suddenly wondering-- "Do I have a cunt, as well?"
"You do," Heimdall said.
"--Don't kiss me again."
"All right."
They sat there for a few minutes, gazing out on the stars, which could be seen from three sides and from above.
Loki wondered safe things: what Heimdall saw when he looked, if the view had changed since he himself had begun to change. He wondered dangerous ones: what, exactly, Heimdall had seen or thought or said on a long-ago day, when his then-king had returned from war with am infant that did not belong to him. He even wondered, more relevantly, why he wasn't wondering any of the things that seemed to have anything at all to do with the present situation.
"Ask your question," Heimdall muttered, finally.
Safe, dangerous, or relevant. There'd been times in his life when Loki could have gone with any of them, chosen at random, or nearly.
But there was one question older than all the rest, and this was the first time in all his life Loki had ever been in the position to ask it.
"How were you forged?" he asked. "And where? I never could find the answer."
"It was never written down," Heimdall said. "The knowledge was thought too dangerous. Perhaps someone knew you would be coming."
Sometimes, Loki thought Heimdall was the only one who ever saw him coming. "Perhaps."
Heimdall continued: "Long ago on Nidavellir, before it was the Nidavellir of which you were taught..."
It was a long answer, and a very good one. The best thing about it was the way it led to a hundred other questions and answers, so that for tonight at least, Loki didn't have to be on the receiving end of any more questions, or come up with any more answers of his own.
There would be time enough for that tomorrow, when he woke up no less blue.