Chapter Text
Loki's mad dash from the beguiling tea party carried him over the crest of a low hill before he slowed, sides heaving from both the exertion and the panic. And his stomach was letting him know quite severely that it was still empty.
"Fancy seeing you here, little Princeling."
Loki whirled around. The Goblin King was seated a short distance away, smirking.
"Lovely day for a picnic. Would you care to join me?"
Loki approached cautiously, wary of any hint that this, too, might be an illusion or trap.
It smelled real. Jareth smiled and patted the blanket beside him. "Lackey was quite upset that I'd let you out without provisions and packed more than enough. Do sit down. He'll be sad if you don't eat."
Loki supposed that made sense. Lackey had seemed like a dedicated caretaker. He changed back into himself and took a seat.
Three savory meat pies and a tart apple later, Loki asked about the tea party.
"hmmm... it is about 90% them. Most people can break out of the illusion on their own in time, they are happy, and there's no malice in their fun, so I seldom interfere. There are many of the more unsavory fae who will set traps like that. They are one reason for the myths that eating food from the faerie realm under the hill will keep you there."
"I've never heard of that."
"Ah, I suppose Asgard might not have such myths and cautionary tales. On Midgard, there are numerous tales of being taken in by the fae, being taken for a century and thinking it is but a night, how accepting food or drink mazes the mind and why accepting a faerie's hospitality is often more dangerous than offending them by refusing it. One tale, of a young woman named Persephone* holds that she was bound to return to the fae realm time and time again for a month out of every year for each bite of food she ate. Quite ridiculous, really, but Midgardian faerie tales are quite contraditory."
Loki abandoned his contemplation of the stories he'd just been told when Jareth brought out a bauble and began twirling it 'round his fingers. "What is that?"
"It is a crystal, nothing more. But if I turn it this way, we can watch your brother's antics."
"Thor? Why is Thor here?"
"Because he wished you away, of course. Once he realized his choices had consequences he did not anticipate, he was given a chance to redeem his actions, though he can never undo them. He has 13 hours to make his way to the center of the Labyrinth to free you from my 'nefarious' clutches." Jareth chuckled, clearly amused at Thor's probable reading of the situation. "Well, it's 13 hours for him, though I get the impression the Labyrinth is altering his perception of time to give you significantly longer under my hospitality."
Loki huffed, doubting Thor's usual tactics would get him very far at all.
The conversation stilled as they watched Thor's frustration at being caught in a long, endless corridor finally spill over to trying to bash the walls down - again, apparently, from Jareth's chuckled, half-muttered comment of "It didn't work before, you idiot. Why would you think it would now?"
Thor was shouting in rage as he bloodied his knuckles against unyielding stone before finally - finally - trying a different tack and leaping to catch the top of the wall, hauling himself up to balance precariously on the narrow, uneven stonework at the top.
Jareth snickered.
"What's going to happen?"
"Just watch."
Thor looked around to get his bearings, shifted his weight and jumped, landing on the top of the next wall, pinwheeling his arms to keep his balance. A small, smug smile signalled his triumph, and he planted his feet to jump again. It was obvious to Loki, though Thor didn't seem to notice, that the next wall was shifting slowly, widening the gap. Thor leapt, boots scraped the wall as he landed just a hair short of being able to balance, and he scrabbled to catch himself and pull himself up. Once atop the wall, he once again wore a smug smile, confident in his triumph. Loki wasn't sure just why Thor was readying himself for another jump - it was quite obvious that he wouldn't make it across. He tried anyway, nearly managing to grasp the top of the far wall with his fingertips, before bouncing off and landing in an undignified heap.
Jareth chuckled. "Quite entertaining. So few try that. It's always fun to see."
Loki shrugged and sat back when he noticed how he'd been leaning heavily into Jareth's side, completely comfortable with the contact, and the oddity of being so at ease.
He'd seen Thor do far stupider things, and he'd more than once helped Thor avoid obstacles by making their way through the branches of closely packed trees... or at least advised him to. If anything, he was surprised Thor had given up bashing his way through the walls as quickly as he had and actually adapted a strategy he'd often dismissed out of hand when Loki had suggested something similar.
"So... I am here forever?"
"Not at all. If you were an infant or a toddler as many of those Wished Away are, failure on his part would eventually result in a permanent change that would keep you here. They are too young to have a strong sense of self; they adapt to and absorb the magic of the Labyrinth quite quickly. That is why the traditional limit on being reclaimed is a year and a day - though a year a month and a day is more precise."
"I though you said 13 hours?"
"Thirteen hours to run the Labyrinth, yes. But sometimes it is not the Wisher who seeks to reclaim a Wished-Away. Such a one has a year and a day to make their claim and begin the run. But that is not what we were talking about.
"Unlike many Wished-Away, you are fully mature enough to have a say in your fate. Though you would certainly be welcome to stay, I would hardly keep you an unwilling captive. Your brother does not know this, and will show the measure of his desperation in how hard he tries to reach you. Those who refuse to give up or be distracted seldom fail. It is only those who, on some level, truly desire to be divested of their Wished Away who do. He can gain a chance to reverse the consequences of his wish, but both you and he will never forget that he made it in the first place. Thus, he can redeem his actions, but not undo them."
"Oh. But I'm not even Aesir. Why would he bother?"
"You are his brother, are you not? Is it not reasonable to think he'd try to fix his hasty, ill-spoken wish."
"He doesn't even like me. He and his friends always treat me like ... like an inconvenience, except when they need something of me."
"Hmmm... I think your brother might, perhaps, be reconsidering his attitude."
"But why??? He's not even my brother! Not really."
"Given that you were unaware of your true parentage, it is entirely possible he is also, and that he considers you his brother."
"But it's just a lie!"
"Not one of his making."
Jareth smiled to himself as the young Princeling slumped against him, yawning and half-asleep. All in all, it had been a rather entertaining day.
With a mere thought he transported them back to the Castle, the picnic blanket folding itself into the empty basket and following along. He was quite looking forward to tomorrow!