Chapter Text
The initial plan he had nurtured and forged had seemed so simple to implement —it had been— but why had everything turned against him? Why was everything collapsing and shattering in his head like porcelain shards brutally thrown to the ground while the words ran like his legs, slipping on gold, stomping on the rainbow, while every memory accumulated, crashed, distorted in the green of his eyes; it expanded in the struggle of his chest tightly enclosed in his sapphire armor. He felt the weight of reality making his eyes bleed, stinging his skin from the humidity, and all because of the fire that had burned and blazed for an idea he hoped would improve their fate.
Everything had happened in less than a day; it had all been so fast. Thor arrived with his usual might, his usual narcissism while being acclaimed, and he walked, spinning around and wielding that hammer in his hand as if it were a trophy or perhaps a toy by the way he tossed it in the air. An impressive entrance, worthy of the son of Odin, the firstborn so desired and loved by the king. A braggart with such a foolish mind and too much pride in his heart, yet Loki smiled sweetly as he saw him approach the steps to take what belonged to the first son, heading toward the future, toward the crown that the blond had so longed for. If only he had been truly ready for this, Loki would not have been darkened by the fear whispering the worst visions in his ear. Loki observed Odin in his greatness, with Grugnir in hand, with the esteem of the people who fell silent at his words; and if he had not felt so much envy and jealousy, perhaps Loki would have been more hopeful. But Thor was not ready; he was so arrogant, presumptuous, dangerous, but no one would ever believe the words of a liar, even if they were for Asgard. At least Thor managed to kneel, with a clear smile, an arrogant face, no look of respect; removing his helmet, with the hammer lying next to his leg. After all, Thor was about to receive a title he had craved for many years, and with which, Loki feared, he would bring their kingdom to ruin. How could they not see it?
Thor glanced at those present on the steps, an excessive gesture in winking at Frigga, and then smiling at his comrades, the three warriors, Lady Sif; not at Loki, why should he? Yet they had spoken just moments before, and the second prince had tried to comfort his nervousness. But perhaps Loki had been mistaken, and Thor was more confident than ever that day. Odin cast Grugnir to the floor with a single gesture, thus declaring silence; everyone ceased applauding now that the king was ready to speak as he rose from his gilded throne. So much silence, so much peace; Loki was almost intimidated by it.
<<Thor, son of Odin. My heart and heir. My firstborn.>>
Ah, it was difficult to drown this emotion, hard to quell the grip that clenched, forcing him to press his lips together, little composure for a prince, but it was hard not to suffer for all the privileges Thor had had, and for all the challenges Loki had had to endure. Perhaps Frigga turned to him to reassure him, or maybe she looked at Thor like a proud mother; Loki did not look up to confirm, but feeling Sif’s raw gaze on him, he turned back to Thor and continued to listen. There wasn’t much time left before what was about to happen.
<<Long have you been entrusted with the mighty hammer Mjolnir. Forged in the heart of a dying star, its power is unmatched, as a weapon for destruction or as a tool for building. It is a companion fit for a king.>>
Yes. Everything had been given to Thor, even the perfect weapon to bring honor in battle, but also to bring firmness on a throne. Loki turned his eyes to Odin, scrutinizing with how much pride he spoke of this day, it seemed he had been waiting for it for so long, it seemed almost destined. Loki could only watch and hope, feign a smile, too aware that this happiness would be shattered. And perhaps only then would they understand.
<<I have defended Asgard and the lives of the innocent, in all the Nine Realms, since the time of the great beginning, despite...>>
Loki felt the vault, he sensed it, his invitation had been accepted, it wouldn't be long before the ice and cold would take over. Odin should have sensed it at the same moment, and Loki scrutinized him without dropping his mask, yet not understanding why he was taking so long to dismiss everyone. Did he not feel the coming of the frost? Did he not feel the monsters beneath them?
<<Do you swear to guard the Nine Realms?>>
<<I swear.>>
<<And do you swear to preserve the peace?>>
<<I swear.>>
<<And do you swear to put aside any selfish ambition and to devote yourself to the good of the realms?>>
<<I swear!>>
Such bravado for a king, with a tone that came out almost as if to counteract the lascivious virtues he had just renounced wielding under the crown; yet it was so evident, it was so easy to see the truth. Did only Loki see it? Thor did not have the wise appearance of a king, he was too young; but he also lacked the humility that should have distinguished him, especially now that he was taking on the burden of a kingdom. Did only Loki see that mistake?
And then it came, Odin, though late, felt it coming, the cold of death.
<<On this day, I, Odin Allfather, proclaim you... The Frost Giants.>>
Grugnir moved again in his hand, struggling on the floor, and thus Loki could breathe more easily, aware that the Destroyer had been summoned, aware that the enemies would be defeated even before their arrival. Odin called off the celebration, led the way while Thor advanced at a run, the hammer tightly in hand, already thirsting for blood while Loki followed them at the same pace, trying to join them, to be their equal, to be faster than their shadows; letting his false concern show on his face. He was the only one who knew, he was the only one, and perhaps it was betrayal, but it would not be if it meant achieving what he truly desired.
Loki feigned surprise and gloom as they walked through the cold and ice, among the corpses of soldiers, both enemies and friends who still clutched their weapons helplessly. Odin seemed confused, perplexed by the ambush, and examined the scene in the deepest silence. Loki merely observed the pools of water covering the vault, noticing them being blocked by ice as he heard Thor's heavy, vengeful breathing for his people who had not been affected in this scene of misery. Loki already knew, and he understood that this was where he wanted to bring them; now, Odin would understand. Loki continued to play his part, keeping his role by staying in the background, in that trophy room, three royals within the silent walls, distorted by evil, by blood; and the green god remained silent and vigilant like a shadow, but the actor's mask slipped due to Thor’s excessive fury as he spoke his first words.
Thor unleashed his voice, brandishing war on his tongue, clenching his fists for the imminent battle, his face burning with arrogance in front of Odin, who analyzed the damage and responded cautiously, determined not to ignite the spark of war over the actions of a few. Loki could only listen with his head bowed, grieved by the fallen but also aware of his position in this trio; if he was not called upon, his word was vain and inappropriate. Thor was so taken by that affront, by the father he revered and who refused to answer blood with blood; yet lives had been lost, yet the casket was in its place; so just Odin, wise, yet wrong enough to infuriate the God of Thunder, who was then silenced.
For the first time, Odin made Thor back down, Loki raised his eyebrows sharply, unsure if he had ever witnessed something so rare before; surprised to notice this sudden change, where Odin veered and denied Thor the privileges always granted so easily. And it was real to be skeptical, for Loki; in that heated verbal battle where Thor demanded and Odin refused.
<<As King of Asgard...>>
<<But you are not King! Not yet.>>
Loki lowered his green eyes to the floor when Odin, in the silent tacit agreement, dismissed himself and proceeded beyond the two of them. Loki still pondered, though, on this so rare event; Odin verbally attacking his firstborn, his favorite, "his heart," to open his mind, to mollify him. No one noticed Loki, standing there like a ghost while the gears turned and oiled to start spinning; not that he wanted to go so far, no, he just wanted the father to understand. Thor was not ready, not yet. But he remained mute throughout that debate. He was used to this, striving to be worthy, serving, and giving an appearance of perfection that eclipsed under the great light of his family.
Thor fell silent at Odin's rebuke, the father's shout seemed enough, but Loki feared his blond brother would go too far. Loki followed him as he strode out of the vault with steps as wide as a Jotun, the remains of some still charred staining the floor with disgust. Loki avoided looking at them, too horrified by those vile beings while recognizing that they should give the proper farewell to the soldiers who had fallen that day for that cause. Dead in battle with honor for Valhalla. A loss that would weigh on his conscience, but Loki would embrace it if it meant Thor would learn the humility he had lost over the centuries. He just wanted them to understand, only then would Thor be a great king.
He reached the reception hall shortly after, finding Thor had preceded him amidst angry shouts and the indignation of the offense suffered. So Loki wasn't surprised to find it already destroyed, the pumpkins smashed and vacant among the golden apples and bread on the floor; the huge table overturned and the food lost, all painted by a powerful golden presence. Loki took a breath and moved cautiously from behind the columns, silent as a snake; ready to be on his brother's side, but to pull other strings, ready to whisper a voice into Thor's ear to calm him, to make him reason. Perhaps it still wasn't enough, perhaps Odin was still blind, perhaps Loki was just a little dazzled by the envy of being constantly the different one when he sat with the desire to support his brother, to be his equal, to be like him. He so much wanted Thor to treat him like the others, and perhaps his manipulation could also lead to this.
<<It is not wise to be found in my company, brother.>>
He looked around, almost lost, both in mind and in words, doubting himself, but they were alone and Loki observed Thor with a glimmer of hope while listening to his stubborn disturbances. For a millisecond, he was grateful for the situation, the solitude, how they were secluded, like when they were young, when it was just Thor and Loki and no one else. The blond seemed almost to listen to Loki's words, yet the prince knew well that the firstborn listened only to himself and his primal instincts.
<<This was supposed to be my day of celebration.>>
<<It will come. In time.>>
<<What happened?>>
Yes, Thor's friends. Of course, they would come, of course, they would rush in to bother like flies on a corpse. Volstagg, with his mighty red mane, lamented the wasted food, disappointed to see so much of it wasted; but Loki nestled closer to the blond, trying not to arouse too much suspicion from the others while he hurried to reassure the hungry beast inside Thor. Oh, how he was wrong. He already felt the eyes of Lady Sif and the others growing with discomfort on his back, their raw hatred so annoying, and perhaps it was this that made him speak more than he would have liked. He just wanted to calm Thor, and in his heart he was sincere, yet, listening to himself, it seemed otherwise.
<<If it consoles you, I say you are right. About the Frost Giants, about Laufey, and everything else. If they found a way to breach Asgard's defenses once, who says they won't try again, with an army next time.>>
<<Exactly.>>
<<There is nothing you can do without disobeying our father.>>
He scrutinized him with regret for the last sentence, wanting Thor to understand, wanting to be sincere, wanting him to calm down and smooth over any resentment for this day; it was what he wanted, yes? For Thor to understand, to realize he needed to be more mature in his choices. Was this what he wanted to say? Instead, the look he found was more determined and full of desire for revenge than the sorcerer would have wished, and he tried to restrain him before it could be too late. But it already was, wasn’t it?
<<No. No, no, no, no. I know that look.>>
<<It’s the only way to ensure the security of our borders.>>
<<Thor, it’s madness.>>
<<Madness? What kind of madness?>>
<<We’re going to Jotunheim.>>
His forked tongue seemed to deceive even himself as Loki found himself riding his black steed, following his reckless brother towards a madness too great. He wanted to counter, to renounce what he had said, to try again to reason with Thor, but Thor was so determined. When Thor asked Loki to join the battle, Loki could only smile warmly, standing and straightening his back proudly as Thor’s hand rested on his shoulder, as if he were one of them, considered a true warrior, much more valuable than an errant sorcerer. But that courtesy was short-lived. He was silenced on the bridge, ridiculed by the others as they always did, his presence returning to being less useful than a shadow.
Alerting the guards didn't seem to be yielding results; Odin was still nowhere in sight, and Heimdall, instead of delaying their departure, let them pass despite his renowned loyalty. Loki had tried, truly, but his voice was drowned out by the impatient cry of the thunderous blonde, and the chaos he had unleashed was spiraling beyond his control despite being its God. Rubbing the backs of his gloved hands with a sense of sin bubbling under his skin, fear and remorse breaching his defenses; they arrived in the realm of ice, and Loki saw reality shatter once more, beyond his reins. Time seemed to race, and the sorcerer couldn’t grasp it, hoping he could still convince Thor. Laufey was more reasonable, but the Jotuns were less so as whispers led to combat with no means of escape. He lost his bearings and inhaled with difficulty when, amidst the war cries surrounding him, his arm turned blue, marks on his skin clearly indicating the implications of that vision. No deceit, no lies, just truth, amid screams and pains, between wounded and beasts.
Odin arrived too late, too late to undo what had been done, too late to keep what had been revealed unchanged; forcing them to return home, wounded in body and pride as a new war loomed over the heads of the Aesir. The Three Warriors and Lady Sif departed, taken to heal their serious wounds, escorted briefly by Heimdall, who Loki watched walk away to remain outside the dome, giving them privacy to talk, but perhaps it was hard not to be heard, with Thor continuing to rant, shouting and arguing against the God of all Gods.
<<There will be no realm to protect if you’re afraid to act. The Jotuns must learn to fear me as they once feared you.>>
<<Pride and vanity speak, not authority. You have forgotten my teachings, on the patience of a warrior.>>
<<While you wait and are patient, the Nine Realms laugh at us. The old ways are over; you make speeches while Asgard falls into ruin.>>
<<You’re a greedy, cruel, and arrogant boy.>>
<<And you’re an old and foolish man!>>
<<Yes, I’ve been a fool… to think you were ready.>>
Odin responded, first with the fury that characterized him, making the Bifrost itself tremble, then, defeated and disillusioned by the reality that Loki had so tried to blind him to. Loki had succeeded, and yet he felt no joy, no satisfaction, only fear. Odin faltered, tired and broken, with words lighter yet as heavy as a burning star. Loki had done it, he had opened his weary eyes, but he couldn’t savor this victory, feeling disoriented, as if lost in a dense forest, and it made his heart pound too hard. When he realized the true extent of what he had done, he tried, stepping forward with his voice becoming a whisper, calling out to the one who should have been his father, but he recoiled at the growl directed at him, and everything was watery, everything muffled in Loki’s ears.
<<Thor, son of Odin, you have explicitly betrayed the command of your king. Through your arrogance and your stupidity, you have exposed these peaceful realms and innocent lives to the horror and devastation of war. You are not worthy of these realms, you are not worthy of your title. You are not worthy! Of the loved ones you have betrayed!>>
Loki stood still and unmoving like a statue, yet he felt his green eyes grow wetter as Thor's hammer was taken from him and his cloak was torn away, while Odin whispered a spell to the weapon, never letting it go from his grasp. It was so unusual to see him like this, to see him wield magic so profanely. The king ordered the golden-haired son, without remorse, that he would remain only a soldier and never a king, confined to the city without being able to fight what was about to come. Odin ordered Thor to leave, stripping him of the nine emblems he wore on his armor; tearing them away. Thor seemed more furious than ever, but Odin, though seeming weaker and faltering, at least for a brief moment, was categorical in expressing, in his own name, that he had deprived him of all authority. Loki then saw him turn, Odin walked away with his ravens, disappearing into the wake of a thousand-colored bridge that accompanied the gold of the city.
Heimdall's gaze pierced Loki like a thousand arrows, enough to take his breath away, or to remind him how to breathe as Thor snorted offended and outraged, pounding his fists against the porthole fortress they were in, for the lack of will of the one who dared to call and mock as "old," thinking it was inherent in Odin. In the end, amidst the confused and stagnant sounds, Loki managed to move forward and walk, staggering, weakened, injured; he didn't know why, but he had seen... His hand. But it couldn't be.
Thor, now like a disabled man without his hammer, followed the younger one with anger to fuel him, so much so that he surpassed him. Perhaps without noticing, perhaps without even seeing his existence as such, too occupied with what he was, so worried more about what had been taken from him than for those he called friends, they were injured, they had been cut by ice and demons, and they had been hurriedly escorted by healers, but Thor didn't seem to be headed towards them, more distraught for his tarnished values.
And as much as nausea contaminated his mouth, as much as doubts piled up and the need for certainty was strong, Loki couldn't call Thor back; the sorcerer knew, Loki had seen, and Thor would never want Loki as a brother if... But it wasn't certain, it could be a mistake, an illusion induced by fog and ice, but he had seen it reflected in the eyes of the demon in front who had stabbed him. A confirmation; he felt his mind plead, repeat like a mantra, and continue to whirl in the skull crushed by emotions so tumultuous and crushing, the symbol of the serpent he loved so much, now wrapped around his throat as he descended the steps of the hall where he had been just a few hours ago, in the vault, already cleaned, already freed of every body and with the ice turned back to water; and step by step, indecisive, trembling... He clung to the chest, shook his head, and almost wanted to close his eyes, but he had to look, he had to see, he wanted to pray.
Blu. All blue. Eyes of blood and cursed marks covering his skin crushed his heart in the grip that Odin had always held on him, to keep him good, to force him to be like the others, to be like Thor, demanding that he be like Thor when he knew... When he had always known...
<<Stop!>>
<<Am I cursed?>>
<<No.>>
<<What am I?>>
<<You are my son.>>
<<And what more than that?>>
Approaching Odin resolutely... He never thought he would have such strength, but he felt so weakened by feelings he couldn't comprehend anything else but the thirst for answers, for truth. It would hurt, it was already hurting; this reality was slowly torturing him, burning him under the sun of that king's light. He had never done it, never had the courage to look him in the eyes with such fervor. But walking with fear wetting his eyes, the sense of pain grew as the certainty of lies clung to his back to drag him into drowning in anger.
<<The casket wasn't the only thing you brought back from Jotunheim that day.>>
<<No. At the end of the battle, I went to the temple and found a child. Too small to be a giant's son. Left there, suffering, alone, to die. Laufey's son.>>
<<Laufey's son?>>
<<Yes.>>
<<Why? You were knee-deep in the blood of the Jotuns, why did you take me?>>
<<You were an innocent child.>>
<<No. You took me for a reason, what was it?>>
Why was he silent? Why was he quiet! Why did he have to look at him in that empty way at this moment when he was begging for answers, when he needed to know, just wanted Odin to deny everything, to come closer, to be a father as he had always been to Thor. Why couldn't he be loved? Why was he tolerated and nothing more, even now, when, amidst tears, he cried for help amid rage and pain, with his throat pulsing and scratching, Odin did not move and seemed almost dissatisfied, annoyed by the neglect of indifference in having to listen to the whims of a monster.
<<Tell me!>>
<<I thought we could unite our realms one day, form an alliance, create lasting peace. Through you.>>
<<What?>>
<<But those plans no longer matter.>>
<<Then I am nothing more than another stolen relic, relegated up here until I can be useful to you.>>
<<Why do you twist my words?>>
<<You could have told me what I was from the beginning, why didn't you?>>
<<You are my son. I tried to protect you from the truth.>>
<<Why? Am I the monster parents warn their children about at night?>>
<<No.>>
<<Well, it all makes sense now. Why you always favored Thor all these years, why despite claiming to love me, you could never accept an Frost Giant on the throne of Asgard.>>
Another revelation, another break, another burning as Loki screamed, pounding his chest and pleading, amidst tears, for reality, for the knowledge denied to him as Odin collapsed on the stairs after telling him more than Loki ever wanted to hear. He wished it was all a dream as he approached, cautious, almost caring, towards a man who had always reproached him for any small pleasure Loki found in life; Loki's happiness had always been denied by that man, yet Loki laid his hand against him, hesitant, afraid of being scolded, chased away, pushed by that contempt he had come to know, but Odin breathed calmly and lay still. He called the guards, begged for help, and refrained from clasping his hands tightly against his temples as he twitched and sobbed between the deformed beats of his heart.
Everything seemed to grow darker, more macabre, emptier... So desolate, to have tried, to have tried, hoped, sought to prosper... For what, when he was only the monster everyone hated? This revelation was almost like a slap, a punch on a mirror that crumbled like his spirit; he had always been hated and detested for what he was, now he knew why, and it deteriorated him.
He didn't want to tell Thor, but they found themselves all in the same room, all close in this moment of distress and fear. Loki looked at Odin, it was easier now that the king couldn't respond; and he preferred this to the bitterness he would find in the one who was nothing to him anymore, no longer a brother. Thor wandered with half an armor, standing to scrutinize the man who had deprived him of battle; and Loki sat by his bedside, Frigga on the opposite side caressing her husband's face. The glaring light of the bed sought to refresh Odin as he regained strength from his own abode, from his own city.
Oh... His mother... Was she? Even for her, he was just a war prize, a consolation prize for a victory as golden as all those collected? Thinking it hurt, the silence that followed after the revelation that Frigga confirmed his origins, was more debilitating. Frigga expressed those truths to Thor too and he did not discuss, nor did he look at the one he had called brother before. He didn't seem to want to kill him, but Loki looked cautiously at the blonde, fearing he might honor his childhood promise, which he had always remembered over the years: to kill the monsters. Frigga was the only one to continue, to argue that he was her son, that this would not change reality, that they were and always would be his family. Yet, Loki already saw so many cracks in their eyes distancing them, were they in his? But the Queen then returned to her dear husband, worried that this time he might... That this would be...
Loki felt so hopelessly broken, and he wished so much that she would embrace him, that she would hug him to demonstrate the truth of those words spoken, but also to cradle the prince's stabbed heart. So many events had happened and it was only sunset, how much more would come? They were all gathered in a silence that Loki wished he could shatter with a resounding scream, but hadn't he already shouted enough? Thor's eyes seemed broken, regretful for the fear of losing his own father, but it was eclipsed, hidden; a glint of triumph displaced it all. And when Frigga gave Thor what she thought was his due, when the first prince made to leave and the doors swung open and the soldiers knelt, and Grugnir was given to him; with her gaze, pregnant with love like a proud and fierce mother, then Loki understood that they would never comprehend. Thor had been deprived of his titles, but that was not enough, and Frigga was too vain a mother to fully grasp the mistake just made. Whether she knew about Odin's decision regarding Thor's attitude, it didn't matter, now it was Thor again who had the fate of the world in his hands. Ah. They would never understand how blinded Thor was by arrogance, and they would never understand that Loki had always felt different in that golden city full of warriors he had never been able to equal. Now he knew why, because he was different, he was an ergi, he was wrong, and they had shown him that so many times. Yet, he couldn't shake off those false words of love from Frigga's head, why say them? She knew how he felt, and she had always confided in him... Those words: "We didn't want you to feel different." They seemed like an affront, they seemed to challenge him with derision... They seemed like a joke.
And when they were alone in the grand recreation room, only Loki and Thor... Oh, no, they had never been just Thor and Loki, no, it had always been Thor and the three warriors and Lady Sif. Never Loki, always too much Loki, never wanted Loki. And now everyone already knew, everyone already whispered... Oh, Loki hated those whispers, they tormented him at night, for how they asserted, with the tongue of a serpent, that he was unwanted, that they whispered that no sorcerer could ever ascend to the throne, that he would never be accepted. And now they knew he was the monster, and Volstagg's eyes, the Lion of Asgard; were more filled with concern as he looked at him, and Lady Sif had two pupils filled with poison that she was no longer afraid to hide. Hogun was the quietest, but his thoughts could be very noisy in such proximity; Fandral didn't even look at him anymore. Loki couldn't believe how hurt he was to be rejected by friends who had never been his, and who seemed so eager to spit on him.
<<Loki, your heritage may be Jotun, but you have been by our side in the fight for all these centuries. I am certain that the war ahead will have you with us.>>
<<An Jotun sorcerer. Ah, I knew there was something about you...>>
<<Worst combination ever.>>
<<At least now we know why you're so strange.>>
Doubts. Looks full of resentment and anger that now revealed how right they had been to hate him, that they had never known about his origins but had intuited from the beginning about him. That he was evil, that he was rotten, that he was wrong. For so many things he had been hated for, Loki almost regretted when they discredited him for being a sorcerer, it was better than being Jotun. If before they tolerated him because he was Thor's brother, now that he had no bond anymore, that he was nothing...
He didn't speak anymore, there was too much in his throat, too many tears to dishearten his voice, but he nodded at Thor's powerful tone as the Gods advanced, leaving him behind once again. Thor was clear about wanting him on their side, but he didn't want to be followed by the disgusting and disheartening Jotun who pretended to be someone he wasn't. They were far away, but Loki could still hear them discussing him, spitting malevolences at him, and then again:
<<Grugnir gives you more than Mjollnir, Thor.>>
<<Let's prepare an army, the conquest of Jotunheim will be ours.>>
Everything was happening so fast, or perhaps Loki was moving too slowly as he watched the events unfold on Jotunheim, accompanied by a sharp gaze from the guardian of the Bifrost, as he projected himself into those visions, into that world where he was born. If he had descended and joined Thor, with them, would he have perhaps remained motionless behind the rubble? Clutching his chest and listening to the atrocious roar of his thoughts as everything crashed onto his stomach with ferociousness. He hadn't gone into battle with them, and Loki wondered if he hadn't betrayed his people again today, with this. But Thor, who had asserted that he wanted him by his side this morning, had refused to even glance at him even though Loki had followed him, almost like he did as a child. A bit pathetic, but he felt the blood in his throat for the disappointment when he realized that Thor wasn't ignoring him, but that he had chosen not to trust Loki anymore. That door had never been closed, there had always been a glimmer of trust for him. So many years, so many centuries, and now everything had changed, never again would anything be...
"You are our son, Loki, and we are your family."
It seemed like a joke, but it burned. He had nothing left and felt so nauseated to have believed in them, to have given everything for them, that he almost began to hyperventilate, almost clenched his fists until blood was drawn. He wanted so much to strike Thor as he had done for so long, mocking him, ridiculing him, mistreating him, making him feel inferior and… If only he had taken Grugnir… Never, it wasn't for the Jotuns, oh, he didn't have weapons ready to compete with a God. The spear. He had to take the spear.
<<Bring them back, bring them here.>>
He had to blink long enough to wake up from staring at the illusion of himself generated in the snowstorm that would instill no fear in his physique or his temper while Queen Frigga continued to talk to the guardian. Loki made the invisible copy on Jotunheim disappear, and turned to understand what had just arrived, and saw her disappointment afflict him, as if she blamed him, for orchestrating this; wasn't it so? No, he hadn't thought it would go this far, not like this. Frigga seemed to want to shake his soul, wanting the son who was not hers to understand the gravity of the situation, wanting to push the attentions of the second prince on the battle with more discretion and a sense of justice. That war not far away that was damaging troops of soldiers, but it seemed, once again, that the Aesir were on the revenge. Thor had summoned quite hastily, a small army, a dozen men, no more no less, and so far there had been more deaths for the demon faction, as always.
Heimdall threw the Bifrost over most of the soldiers, fortunately mostly gathered, in a circle shielding each other; all except Thor who could no longer maneuver in the air as he once did. Taking them away from the rubble of Laufey's castle while, in perplexity, Loki sought integrity and set his eyes on the portal, waiting, in a scene already seen as the Bifrost welcomed them warmly, the sound of the contraption did not hide the malice in Thor's voice.
<<Loki! Traitor! Why bring us back? We were about to win.>>
<<Thor, my son, it was I. And Heimdall acted on my behalf, as did Loki. I cannot say the same of you. This is not what Odin would want, to take advantage of his sleep to condemn an entire race to death…>>
<<They're disgusting beings, monsters. We must kill them!>>
<<Thor, they are living beings, as such they deserve to exist, and peace must be preserved.>>
Loki wondered what had changed, he looked at Frigga with little restraint, but deep down, he couldn't hide how hypocritical she seemed at that moment. How many centuries, how many? In which Odin, and all the Aesir had thrown disgust and insults on those repugnant beings, and never from Frigga a word of regret or reproach, just silent silence; and now she defended them, only now because Loki knew he was like those repellent beings. She saw the disdain grow in the eyes of the second prince, she seemed to recognize that look but quickly averted her eyes, another gesture that Loki knew very well.
<<What do you want to understand, Mother? You're just a woman. We are men and we fight, preserve the truce? You can't understand such matters, and it's only through their death that we'll have peace.>>
Oh, Frigga now saw, huh? What Loki had seen for so long, what he had made Odin understand too; yet she seemed so surprised, so horrified not to have known how to look better. Oh, Loki would have liked to say more, but he still felt his body numb with pain, with betrayal, and as much as the anger rose, he couldn't impose himself in front of her. Loki felt his voice getting farther and farther away as they continued to argue, he felt himself fading as around him, a storm wind grew in their souls. Heimdall removed the sword, preserving the queen's will, and the guardian held it close to himself; and Loki wondered if one day he would receive such respect, perhaps never. If he had been born Aesir, would it have been different?
<<The use of the Bifrost is denied to you, and so is Grugnir, until you have invigorated your mind. I will deal with Laufey. Loki, you will accompany me.>>
<<Do you trust him? If you allow me, queen, but…>>
<<I am grateful for your opinion, Lady Sif, but it was not requested.>>
<<You won't give my throne to that filthy traitor, will you?>>
Traitor? Traitor for what? He hadn't even wanted the crown. All he hoped for was to protect a small, flickering light, a faint candle tormented by the winds; Loki had served as a wall, as a shelter, trying to make that hope grow, to make that flame flare up that, one day, he would be seen as one of them, as their equal. But it didn't seem that a falsehood, like everything else, and as he moved back into the storm, he let the water wash away that flame, which had struggled to thrive, in all those centuries of commiseration. There was nothing but darkness, and Loki could barely hear the crashes and thunders around him, outside, in reality.
<<It's not your throne, Thor, and if this is what you are, it never will be.>>
<<The succession line belongs to me, and so does Grugnir!>>
<<Not as long as I am queen.>>
It seemed so categorical, her, but her tone was still light and gentle, like a caress; and Thor seemed displeased with it, rejecting that way of being, from that pity; but Frigga knew well, or pretended, Loki couldn't understand it now. He could only watch her as she grabbed Grugnir from Thor's firm grip, and walked away after casting a pleading glance at the second prince. He complied, but Loki didn't turn to look at Thor, he already knew what he would find: hatred, and death.
But arriving at Jotunheim, again, the idea made him shudder, he felt the nausea rise at the thought of having to take such a risk, again. If he hadn't let the Jotuns into Asgard, would this day have been more peaceful or just a blissful lie? But when he followed Frigga towards the golden palace, leaving the warriors at the Bifrost while she now held the coveted spear; Loki felt the sense of incompetence fade and the sense of disappointment grow. Were they going for an agreement? A peace treaty through him, as Odin had stated? Would she sell him out to maintain peace? After all he had done, after how much he had sacrificed to make them proud; would there be nothing left of Loki but a name whispered by the wind? Thor had already rejected him, maybe this was what everyone would do. He was no longer Aesir, he never had been; a poor copy of someone he wasn't.
It happened so much and yet so little, when they arrived in front of Odin's empty throne, and the council convened, and the acidic eyes quickly settled on Loki, standing still and rigid, aware that it was only a matter of time before he himself became the enemy, one of them, one of those monsters and never one of Asgard. And she began to speak, seeking ideas, seeking treaties, proposing and waiting. Loki had always been an excellent diplomat, he had always used his forked tongue and his knowledge to get his family everything they required. They didn't worship him like Thor, but sometimes it seemed enough to act with cunning and execute what was said to earn Odin's, everyone's... to earn a smile of acclaim. It was little, terribly little, and it was never directed at him but at what was convenient, at what it brought and carried for them, but it was useful, and Odin had always appreciated him for that. Not praised, not loved, just, appreciated, and now he understood, and now...
Frigga spoke again and the prince stiffened, because she, mentioning Loki's presence only as... As what? He couldn't hear the rest, Loki saw Frigga and her face crumple in terror as she grabbed him to take him away under the rumble and the crackling energy that they could see from so far away, from the castle itself they could admire the beam and the blinding power of the Bifrost, unleashed towards one and only one target. A dying planet that seemed ready to collapse, and had been condemned before its time. Oh. If only Loki had been worthy... Yet he looked at the hand of the one who dared, once, to call mother with a tone coated with reverence; squeezing his hand firmly even now that she knew he was only...
She held his hand until they were at the horses. They arrived on the bridge with the Bifrost activated, Thor inside while Heimdall, as usual, showed no emotion at the sight of the monsters disappearing, because that's what he wanted, right? He wanted the demons to be burned as they deserved; the guardian had never expressed himself on the matter, but he had allowed Thor to use the Bifrost; Heimdall had remained aloof, but that didn't change his role. The three warriors seemed concerned about the repercussions as soon as they saw the queen, but they complained about how they wouldn't be able to witness and hear the cries and the fear of the demons while Lady Sif, perhaps the most reasonable, was closer to Thor and muttered against him for disobeying executive orders once again. Sif wasn't worried about the demons, but about transgressing, about daring too much; but Thor ignored her, they were all worth so little now, in the blue eyes of the God of Thunder.
It worked like this, monsters were killed, and warriors lived as heroes... Thor always told him that. When they were kids, he heard so much about how the Aesir defeated enemies, and Thor would get excited with every story, ready to rush off to destroy them, to save the Asgardians from demons, and now? Where was the sense in it? Why was this happening? Why not just kill Loki himself then?
Loki was right here now, Thor saw him, and his eyes burned, yet he stood still, immobile in the face of his devastation. Oh. How much more? But Thor had promised, he would kill all the monsters, and Loki was here, once again close to him, why wasn't he doing it?
Frigga kept calling out to Thor, Loki didn't even notice that she had approached her favorite son, trying to calm his fury as the ice planet was devastated by destruction, and the palaces collapsed on the blue demons. Loki was too busy looking into his brother's eyes and awaiting his judgment, it seemed like the moment had come, because if he killed all the Jotun, then there would be only one left. But Thor must have been so shattered in his pride, he had longed for this war for centuries, and it hadn't been like he'd dreamed it, the same for the coronation, nothing had gone as Thor wanted it today; and instead of wielding a weapon and rushing to cut off heads, he would kill them by razing an entire planet to the ground. It was a shame for a warrior, but Thor desired so much to bring that glory to his name: the destroyer of demons. Ah, at least he could kill Loki himself.
Frigga approached her dearest son even closer, getting closer and closer to the huge flow of power that surged onto the ceiling and everywhere; and only to be pushed away, Thor's blood lust, which had been denied, would be satisfied anyway, she read it in his eyes as she understood that she wasn't strong enough to fight him while watching the tragedy unfold.
And Loki would have preferred to remain still, motionless; he would have preferred not to fight, feeling feeble, weak, oppressed by all the thoughts and all the pain of what he had never been but had dreamed of being so much; he had so longed for what they had... He couldn't compete with them, he was nothing, and Thor, oh, Loki truly felt nauseated for having believed he could be equal to him. He couldn't earn their respect, but maybe he could make them proud one last time, try to be worthy. When Thor came toward him, he couldn't help but feel fear bubbling up, merging with the anger for what they had done to him, for everything Loki had sacrificed only to end up like this; and he felt so battered by the betrayal, by the truth; that he lashed out against the blond with a cry.
Loki brought the lance from the ground against himself with a flick of his hand, and clashed it against the man he had once called brother; he threw him away, but amidst the flurry of the moment, surrounded by a tumultuous tide of emotions so furious and agitated; watching the three warriors draw their weapons; Loki stepped back to seek his light, she who had been it for a long time despite all she had denied him. He turned to the woman he heard call his name, she pointed her hand at the sword embedded in the Bifrost, and Loki understood her desire; and even in the pain he felt, he couldn't deny her the final request. As Thor lunged toward him with a grunt and a cry that almost matched Odin's, Loki dodged seeking a way to make his way to the center of the dome. Thor tried to stop him, but agility was something so familiar to Loki, he dodged that arm ready to break his bones and slipped to the side, then rolled in the air, kneeling on the golden floor and darting, running to stop the Thunder God's blade that threatened his throat with his own lance. The axe that Volstagg threw at Thor, and that the latter wielded against the prince, was shattered by the mighty beam of Grugnir, and when they were both thrown back by it, Loki rolled on the floor until he crawled in front of the gear. Loki had ignited this drama by inviting the monsters into his own home, and he would seal it with a weighted blow, bringing it to an end, perhaps to the peace that those whom he would have liked to call parents so much wanted. Would it be enough at that point? Would he be worthy?
But why? They hated him, they used him, he complied... And he was always mistreated, judged, hated for what he was, he had never been able to be himself. He had always been flawed, why not let them reap what they had sown? Thor had become what they had made him become, but Loki... What was Loki? He was fighting against someone he had always admired and couldn't stop, and couldn't find it wrong even though it hurt.
Raising his gaze from the ground, his bruised face met the emotionally shattered, angelic face of Frigga; she looked so bitter, so pained, because she knew that nothing would ever be the same again, that her family had now changed irreversibly. Or had they always been like this? But she had always been strong, and she still looked at him with so much hope, believing so strongly in what he would do. Was she wrong? He wished he could answer yes so much, but he couldn't. Loki wanted to be the one worthy, he had desperately longed for it, but he recognized in her eyes, that the request wouldn't bring that. He would never be that, because for her, he was just a pawn. She had only used her love for this, and she was doing it now; there was nothing, there would be nothing for him, no one would celebrate his victory, no one would acclaim him... But he could finish what he had started, for her. When he stood up; firmly grasping the golden staff, he directed all the power towards the pillar where Heimdall's sword had been thrust; his feet slipped back as Thor tried to grab him to pull him back, the others fled, and Thor threw him away until they were out. Thor's grip stung on his arm, but the burst was inevitable, so destructive, so wide, that it overwhelmed them from behind. Before this happened, they all fled, they couldn't do otherwise when they saw the criticality of that moment, and Loki truly hoped for it, he turned to look at Frigga, she was dragged away by Heimdall, the guardian who still protected the royals. The queen had called them again, her children; Loki was relieved by this, she was the first to leave, and she was safe. She was far enough away when the blast spread, tearing through, she managed to go before everything exploded, before the dome shattered and everything collapsed. He was taken from behind, Loki, by the blow, thrown away as the bridge was destroyed and the dome plummeted, slowly and creakily under its weight, into the depths of the universe. They all flew and rolled on the bridge, the ground seemed to cushion the blow, the ground on which Loki fell instead broke as soon as he hit it, and Loki didn't resist, didn't oppose his fate. After all, the sorcerer who had been denied to live in the dawn had to slide into the abyss.
Loki clung to the edge of the bridge with a final feeling of hesitation to hold onto that city, while Thor rolled on the colorful expanse and Frigga was protected by the faithful Heimdall, and the warriors lay far away, and perhaps, when the ground settled from trembling and the roar turned to silence; everyone got back up. Loki could do it too... It wasn't hard to pull himself up. But it seemed awkward to muster the strength to climb up, the fear of seeing the flames of hatred inside Thor was hot enough to loosen his fingers. He wanted to kill him, he would do it. It was okay, he wasn't like them. Why hold onto this city still? Why cling to this? He had been in this position for years, for centuries, clinging for dear life to a city that tolerated him and hoped he would let go. Why not just give in, just for once, why not surrender? He had fought so much, he had done so much; and he had been repaid with blood, and he had been renounced, and he was the monster the Aesir fiercely debated about.
What did it matter if she screamed his name, she had never loved him. Loki had done enough, he had condemned himself today to the truth, a truth so subtle, but she had denied it to him despite all her love. How many times had Loki lost himself for them? How much had he yielded for them? How many times had he bowed his head to bear the shame amidst tears because for Odin it was never enough? Because he was a sorcerer, because he was erect, because sometimes he was more than a man and sometimes he was just Loki, and he was never liked. Why stay only at the sound of a voice that had always defended Odin and never him? And then, she was so far away now, and yet she seemed to have always been, had it ever been true?
Letting go was so peaceful, for the first time he felt good, he felt light. Ending up inside the mouth of a deformed whormole, collapsing inside with a colossal Bifrost, was an unexpected event, but Loki didn't seem to want to close his eyes, but Asgard, so large and powerful, couldn't even be seen anymore, so he counted the stars while the gears that he had stopped from destroying a planet that deserved it, that had shattered in the explosion, metal and gold, crashing into him, leaving him to fall deeper as the portal gurgled, ready to close, ready to eat into itself. And in the end, Loki was sucked in, crushed between the materials, tossed between them as he was hit and cut but it seemed to last less than a breath that he couldn't fit into the empty space. And when he reopened his eyes, he only felt the jet of the explosion burning his skin as if wanting to melt and disfigure it, and chase him further away, pushing him away; his face imploding with how hot and burning it was, and when peace came, it wasn't with his last breath. There was no oxygen, but wandering above the stars as if above a quiet sea, wandering adrift, he listened to the cold touch him like an inviting caress, a chill he had always savored within, and he watched the rubble of gold and cobalt wander with him, with the push of the explosion still dragging them, and Loki knew that he was lost, that he was lost, and he felt no need to do anything to stop himself from being pulled into this vortex of nothingness and stars. Perhaps he would land on some celestial body, on a meteor, on an asteroid, or simply, swimming still in this vast universe, until death prevailed. He could die, right? He would have preferred this to being destroyed by the God he had once called brother. When he moved his head, he saw the constellations, but his eye was bleeding, he was forced to squeeze it shut as the paleness of his skin atrophied in pain; he must have hit his head on pieces of the Bifrost, because he felt his temple throb, and his bones crack, and his mouth thicken with blood. His back must have splintered, because he couldn't move too far without feeling the weight it brought. But she would get well soon, but his soul... And his family? Would they come to him?
Who knows how much time passed, as his body began to slow down its vital functions without stopping, until he was almost stuck at the center of the universe. Frigga could have found him, but Loki didn't want to, and now they didn't even have the means to reach him. But perhaps, if they had truly loved him, they would have sent an entire battalion to search the area, to move seas and skies, until the second prince... The second, yes... The demon, yes, the Jotun. No one would come, perhaps only to execute him. Staying still, breathing the stars without your lungs really filling and gnawing among the thorns, seemed more concrete than waiting for help that would never appear. He hadn't had it when he was alive and wandering in the golden palace, he would never have arrived now, when everyone thought he was dead, and not missing like he was. Maybe death would have been a lighter suffering than this continuous thinking and agonizing over doubts and memories and pain. Maybe it was the continuous silence, maybe it was the concept that time was passing even if he couldn't notice it, with the sense of empty hunger knocking, the thirst making his mouth bitter and harsh with blood and splinters; that his ears began to dance in his confused mind.
“These boots, ah. They suit you better than me. View? They suit you, I bought them on purpose. A gift, huh. Nothing serious, but in exchange you could give me a few more lessons, right?”
“So you are Loki, the God Loki, it's a pleasure, indeed… I am T…”
“Loki, brother, your pranks won't solve your problems, and it doesn't seem like a good reason to waste good wine either.”
“No one likes snakes.”
“Thor likes them.”
“Because you like them, but he prefers bigger and braver animals. Snakes, ah, those are cowards, they hide in the vegetation and attack from behind, almost like you. But your brother just wanted to make you happy, you're just so strange."
“You look like an ergi sometimes, why do we have to carry it around? Just because he's Thor's brother?
"Friends! This is Loki, my youngest brother. Be careful how you treat him if you don't want to incur my wrath."
“Brother, stop being so tall, be more virile, more of a man. We are warriors. Ah… I really don't know what to do with you anymore.”
“Laufeyson. Why?"
So many fragmented memories, like a piece of a puzzle undone, as if Thor had shattered it with his usual grace in making it crash to the floor along with the table from that morning. There were so many scattered fragments, endless ones; Loki didn't really know where to start to gather and assemble them. Who knows if months had passed while he pondered what he had left behind. But as soon as he moved his neck a bit, he realized that his back had healed, and when a piece of gold flew over his forehead, he realized they were still moving, but faster this time, so he followed its trail, gazing at a small and distant Wormhole, being so gentle as to invite them in. Loki gasped softly, grasping nothing but desolate emptiness, as his sight blurred staring into the black tar that awaited him with great parsimony and patience. Loki descended towards that mouth slowly, but his heart began to weigh heavy knowing that it was happening again, that he would be tossed and jerked by a force greater than he could control or stop; that vortex would take him and tear him apart in the propulsion with which, like a cannon, it would hurl him farther or closer to where he didn't want to be. Strange that his heartbeat persisted even after so long left to wander in the depths of nothingness, a void that now seized them, him and the gold that had accompanied him in the timeless time that had no hours and minutes; making them slither like serpents within a universe that was expelling them, leaving Loki to plummet into a tunnel so destructive for the alarming speed at which he found himself, inclined to give up until he was flung out, rolling and groaning in a steep and harsh desert, hot and dry, like everything he hated.