Round 6
ROUND 6 IS NOW CLOSED.
Welcome to norsekink!
Keep up the awesome, folks.
NOTE: We've noticed that some of the prompts being posted have Thor characters only making cameos or not featured at all. We realize that Thor is closely involved in the Avengers, but we're requesting that any prompts that do not have at least one Thor character playing a central ( Read more... )
Welcome to norsekink!
Keep up the awesome, folks.
NOTE: We've noticed that some of the prompts being posted have Thor characters only making cameos or not featured at all. We realize that Thor is closely involved in the Avengers, but we're requesting that any prompts that do not have at least one Thor character playing a central ( Read more... )
There would be advantages to this, and it was clear enough that he would sooner or later need to rid himself of Heimdall; the far-seeing gatekeeper had always distrusted him and would be constrained by oaths of fealty to Asgard’s king for only so long. Loki had considered how he would achieve his ends as he strode along the glowing expanse of the bridge for the first time as king of Asgard, going under the pretense of an intention to mend the tense, fragile truce with Jotunheim. But then, as he looked out over the tossing seas and the golden lights of Asgard and the swirls of stars above the horizon, a small voice within him counseled caution. It would be too much, too soon, too dangerous, to bring the giants that way; the beam of Bifrost could be seen clear across the realm, inviting suspicion he could ill afford if his plan was to succeed. And after all, the Jotnar had not complained the last time at being brought through the grey spaces. (Of course, this decision to leave Heimdall at his post would later prove troublesome-Loki was forced to stand on the edge of the bridge with the Destroyer in his shadow, saying that he meant to go to retrieve his brother and his friends by force if necessary. He had stared back into eyes that reflected the stars, his own expression even, daring Heimdall to defy him and had been truly surprised at the reluctant nod that was given.)
He had gone to Jotunheim then for reasons that Heimdall would not know, and he had wandered alone across that cold devastation. The prick of the cold, icy winds made him feel small, lost, helpless. Like an abandoned child. The blue darkness pressed at his eyes and wrapped around him until he wanted to burrow under the snow and lie asleep forever, numbed to all pain. The place called to something he had never known he had inside him but now could not forget or ignore, something like a deep, half-healed wound or a dormant sickness, and as he stood in the looming ruins of an ice city, under a tall, angular tower broken as if by the emergence of ancient terrors long asleep, he had closed his eyes and felt for the hidden thing. For a brief moment he had felt it moving across his skin as a dull warmth, spreading not up from his fingertips but out from his heart, until it covered him. Breathing a shaky breath, he had opened his eyes again and looked. He put his hand in front of his face and studied it, staring at the faint curved lines of darker hue. Strange thoughts flickered through his mind. How a bruise would look on skin already blue. Whether a cut in the flesh felt the same to a Jotun. How much heat it would take to burn something so cold. Then he was shaking himself, shoving the hated form back and feeling the cold of the air once again, striding out of the shadows even more determined than before. He had made his way swiftly to where Laufey sat, and he had stood, calm and sure, before the monster who sired him. Loki had looked him in the eye and with a teasing smile on his lips had lured him with the promise of the casket. And he had placed another piece into the game.
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He had left them there far longer than he intended, and he rushed now along those same pathways with his heart pounding: they would surely find the last stretch of the way through the emptiness on their own before too long, and while he might bring Jotun soldiers into Asgard himself, it would be nothing less than irresponsible of him to allow them free rein while he was not there to control their actions and their movements.
The passageways twisted and curved, and Loki went from a brisk trot to a full run, ducking briefly as the passage dipped, leaping over a deep trench like a wrinkle in the ground. He slung himself around corners and slipped through narrow squeezes. And then he was there, just where he had left them, and for a moment his heart nearly stopped-he thought they were gone. But no. They had only just now grown impatient and begun to wander onward, tentatively stepping into the pale obscurity before them.
“Wait,” he said, calling after their disappearing backs. “Follow me.”
He mastered his breathing as he came to the front of their small group, passing by the muttering Helblindi, and he even gave the Jotun king a little bow as he felt himself being looked over warily from behind blood-red eyes.
“Did something happen, Asgardian? You were gone long, and you seem… distracted,” Laufey said, his voice a low rumble from lips that barely seemed to move as he spoke.
“Yes, many things. None of them important to our business,” Loki said, baring his teeth in a vicious smile. “I hope you aren’t having second thoughts.”
Laufey’s eyes narrowed. “Lead us,” was all the king said then. And Loki did.
They emerged from the in-between in a blind hallway some distance from Odin’s chamber, the air silent and still, the flickering light of the wall sconces teasing back the shadows. Loki walked a few steps ahead of the Frost Giants. He had to appreciate their careful silence as they stalked through this enemy stronghold; once or twice he was forced to glance back to be certain they still followed him. But he also took in other details. Though their breaths were cold and their bodies no doubt likewise, it seemed they did not freeze everything they touched or send frost spidering across the floors unless they chose to. His lip twitched as he filed that information away for future investigation.
And then he turned a corner and stopped cold at the sight of one of Odin’s-no, now his own-councilors coming toward him with a sudden smile. Loki's hand twitched at his side, fingers spread in a gesture he hoped the Jotnar would understand. He did not have time or means to conceal them from sight with his magicks. All he could do was stay where he was with his back to the corridor down which the giants hid and absorb the man’s attention himself.
“Rannver,” Loki said patiently as the man approached with that look in his eye that said he meant to ask a favor, or perhaps just speak into the king’s ear for a feeling of his own importance and the sound of the echoes of the sea reflecting back at him. “I take it you have been seeking me. What is it you need?”
By the time Loki managed to escape again, the Jotnar were nowhere to be seen.
With a sinking feeling and cursing Rannver's very name, he set out to find them.
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Seriously though, I really love Loki's POV, I love his reminiscing about what would it be like to be a jotun, the way he views his biological family. It's all awesome! I hope there'll be more soon! :D
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I've set myself a goal of at least a chapter a day, and while this is a bit of an ambitious project (you should see my outline. I've written stories that were shorter), thus far I've never failed to complete a WIP. So please do keep checking back! :D
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Now he stood frozen, leaning up against the wall, not daring to take the step that would let him see within. If the Frost Giants had found that chamber, if they had already gone in to fulfill their part of the arrangement… if he was too late now to save Odin…
Perhaps it had been folly to think he could win his father’s approval even by such a deed. Perhaps it had been folly to think that doing so would mend centuries of hurt. It certainly would not change what he now knew of himself, what Odin had kept from him. And now he had other things to think about anyway. Somewhere out in the city word of Thor’s return was surely spreading, and the thought that had come to him as his brother stood staring up at the Destroyer depended wholly upon Loki’s continued rule. So would not the idea of a son avenging his father’s death resonate well with the people of Asgard, no matter to what lengths he went to do it? Would it not win him the invaluable coin of their acceptance, just when he would most need it? Was this not exactly what he had hoped for?
He pressed his back against the wall, listening for a sound that would tell him what was occurring within. A sound that would tell him what to do next. When it came, though, it was Frigga’s scream, and he was in motion before he had even made the conscious choice.
Rounding the corner and bursting through the open doors, he saw Frigga standing near the bed, bent over as if she had been struck in the belly, her mouth open, eyes staring. Staring at the shape of Laufey, crouched over the bed where Odin lay, an ice blade in his hand. It was coated in red, the same red that spilled out of Odin’s chest and darkened the fur blankets, spreading even as Loki watched, eyes wide.
Loki raised Gungnir, its gleaming point filling the center of his vision. With a wordless shout of rage he used it, channeled its power into a bolt, a blast of white fire that knocked Laufey from his gruesome perch. Red eyes looked up at him in disbelief as he leapt forward and widened as he plunged the blade into the blue expanse of Laufey’s chest, a killing wound to mirror that which he had delivered to the Allfather. And Loki knew the Jotnar moved silently; he spun in time to cut down the one who crept close behind, and his face was pulled into a grimace that was nothing like a smile as he watched this sibling he had never known die. I have room in me for mercy upon only one brother, he thought with dark humor, and you come too late today, Helblindi. The third and fourth Frost Giants fell as they tried to bolt away from their treacherous ally, the magical fire burning through them and leaving not even ash.
As the hum died away in his ears, it was replaced by Frigga’s cries as she knelt frantically beside Odin’s bleeding body, calling for aid, calling for Loki, calling Odin’s name, crying out in agonized sounds that contained no real words. And then the room was filling with people, guards and healers rushing all around him, and Loki let the spear fall from his grasp. His face was wet, and when he wiped his hand across his eyes he was somehow surprised to find it was only tears.
*
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“I'm so sorry, Mother, I came too late,” Loki said as she held him, “This… this is all my fault.”
“No,” she replied softly. “Don’t say that, Loki.”
“You do not understand. I brought them here,” he said, his voice coming out as a choked, desperate sob.
Frigga stiffened against him, her face turned to stare up at him, horror fighting with disbelief in her eyes.
He shook his head, frantic. “No, not this time, not like that, but I showed them the way… days ago… before I knew. And I thought I had sealed that pathway afterward. It was only meant to be a trick, Mother. A laugh. To ruin Thor’s big day.” His eyes swam, red-rimmed, though he held the tears back; he seemed as if he wanted to crumple against her and pour out all his regret and all his sorrow. “I did not mean for this to happen. I did not mean…”
And Frigga looked at her son, heart aching. There was a legend among mortals that Frigga had the gift of prescience, but while she had occasionally seen flashes of what was to come, more often her knowledge was simply this: that a person who is wronged will feel the hurt until they seek vengeance or offer forgiveness. And regardless of what she and Odin had intended, Loki was hurt. She could see that so clearly now. She could see the pain on his face and the self-doubt, the bitterness and the uncertainty.
“I know you would never have meant to cause this, my son,” she said, keeping her voice even. “I know.”
He took a deep breath, pulling away but letting her keep her hands on his between them. “There is more I must tell you, Mother. I have made so many mistakes, I have ruined everything. But you were right; I will keep secrets from you no longer.”
She squeezed his hands and nodded. Her son had never needed her love and sympathy more than he did in this moment, and she was determined to give it.
“I have brought Thor home,” he said, his eyes flitting hesitantly to look at her.
“You have?” Frigga said in surprise-this was hardly the sort of confession she had been expecting. “Is he all right? How? When was this?”
“Just a little while ago. I took the Destroyer to Midgard, thinking that I could…” Here Loki paused, shaking his head, staring down at the ground between them. Then his face twisted and his voice went hard as ice as he continued. “I wanted to frighten him. I wanted to…”
Frigga sought out his eyes, saw the guilt in them. And she nodded, urged him on.
“He is well. But he has not won back the hammer. He is still just as a mortal. I brought him home; I didn’t know what else to do. I thought that I would bring him here and wait until Odin awakes, and then convince him to restore what has been taken from Thor. But now? Now what will happen? If Father…” Loki shook his head, unable to say what they both thought. “What if Thor is never restored to what he should be? What if you and I are left to hold this realm together by ourselves?”
She reached a hand up to touch his face. "It will not come to that," she murmured, trying to convince herself as much as him.
He leaned into her touch, his eyes falling shut for a moment. Then all of a sudden he laughed, soft and broken. “Do you know what a fool I am? When I brought Thor back, I made him promise to obey me, in some stupid belief that I could show my worth if only I did not have him hogging all the glory.”
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Frigga did the only thing she could do. She pulled him into her embrace. “No, Loki. I won’t do that. You have made mistakes, but no one has ever lived who did not, and I have faith that you will see them repaired. I have faith in you. You will rule until Odin awakens, my son.”
She felt the tension in him lessen as she held him, and she felt his arms going around her in return and heard his soft sigh. And when she released him she saw the way his brows drew together briefly in a dubious look, though he tried to smile. “Thank you, Mother. I will try to be worthy of it.”
Just then, there was a low, stretched sound as the door opened and one of the healers stepped through it, face solemn and grim.
*
It had been one thing to be mortal on Midgard, Thor thought, where that had made him no different than any other around him-and after all, he had retained the knowledge of an Asgardian, the skills gained through centuries of life, and attitudes and confidence of one raised to command, and those things had set him apart and above. But now, to be mortal in Asgard… a heavy and uncomfortable feeling settled in the pit of his stomach, growing stronger with every person they passed who looked at him strangely, recognizing their banished prince returned but seeing, feeling that he was no longer one of them in some deep and crucial way. After so long of looking into their eyes to find admiration and respect, to discover in that reflection if his light still shone so brightly, it was disconcerting. He felt suddenly that some part of himself had been lost and that it had left an emptiness behind.
As they made their way back to Odin’s halls (slowly, as slow as Nidhogg’s progress, as if his friends thought if they delayed long enough, his promise to Loki would expire) Volstagg and Fandral had acted particularly jolly, joking and telling ridiculous old tales of their exploits together, horrendously exaggerated as was their wont but full of warm camaraderie. But Hogun had spent most of the time watching around them almost warily as Sif stayed close by his side, like a guard, nearly as silent as Hogun. Thor did not quite understand why it was that they behaved thus; surely at least to them he was still the same friend they had known since their younger days? They had at least not thought him helpless when he had gone to face the Destroyer. But perhaps they had simply not realized yet what the loss of his powers meant. He glanced over at Sif and caught Hogun watching him out of the corner of his eye, and he gritted his teeth. They meant well by it, he told himself. They were his dearest friends.
But then, in the midst of a wide, statue-lined street (down which Volstagg had assured them that only a brief detour might be made for a taste of fine pastries), they all halted to listen to the word of the young foot-messenger calling out the dire news as he flew: The Frost Giants had sneaked into the realm once more. Odin had been attacked as he lay in the Odinsleep. Odin Allfather was dying.
Thor ran then, as swift as if he were a god still, and the others had to struggle to keep up.
*
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“I doubt you will be the first in line, Sif,” Fandral called out, to which Hogun grunted in agreement.
Volstagg puffed and panted from several paces behind them. “I’m usually not one… to convict a man… without… evidence… but I must say I agree. It certainly… looks suspicious… at least.”
“I know,” Thor muttered, though he did not slow and was not sure they heard. “I know how it appears. And if it is true, Sif, I will hand you the whip myself.” But inside he did not believe. He did not believe his brother would be capable of such evil. Either way, though, Thor had little thought to spare for the cause of this news; his father lay wounded or was perhaps already dead, and he had not been there. He had been unable to do anything to intervene. He had been unable even to speak to him first so he could admit to his father that he had been wrong, had not had the chance to tell Odin that he had learned to be better than he had been before. And he thought of his mother, who must surely be suffering at this very moment. And Loki… no, Loki could not have been behind it. He would not do this to their family. Perhaps it was exactly like the time Loki had spent a month in disgrace as a child because he had joked of casting vain Freya’s jewelry off the Bifrost shortly before several pieces went missing, even though Thor himself had vouched for Loki’s whereabouts when it happened. Even as he thought back to the hiss of Loki’s voice and his brittle smile as they stood under the sun of Midgard and made their bargain, he did not believe Loki would do this.
They all kept their silence the rest of the way, feet pounding against the ground as they sped through Asgard. And then the doors to Odin’s hall were swung wide before them, the guards bowing to Thor-here, at least, his claim to respect and belonging was unquestioned-and they were within, being pointed toward Odin’s chambers. At that door, however, he turned to the others.
“I must go forth alone from here,” he said. He did not know what he would find within, but if Odin lay dying, then it was first a place for those of his kin. They gave him nods and sympathetic glances and raised their hands in farewell.
“We will wait, then, in case you should need us,” Volstagg said, folding his arms across his vast middle and appearing ready to wait out Ragnarok if necessary.
“Thank you, my friends,” Thor said as he opened the door and stepped through it.
*
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Frigga took hold of Loki's hand as they stepped forward and saw Odin, her fingers digging almost painfully into his palm. Odin lay with his one eye closed and sunken, and the bindings on his wounded chest were a white against which the skin of his neck and arms seemed sickly grey, touched with dark bruises and streaks of red. The blankness of his deep-lined face made him appear so terribly old. He did not seem to breathe; his flesh seemed bloodless. Frigga sank into a seat beside the bed and sat with her back held carefully straight, simply staring. And Loki had sat next to her, offering silent comfort as he took in the sight and tried not to let it overwhelm him.
He had after only a few minutes stood and stepped away, moving nervously, getting enough distance that he could breathe again, leaning his head back against the cold marble and closing his eyes. Only days before he had watched as Odin crumpled to the ground at his feet, his rage a blunt weapon striking his father down, and only after the final words escaped his mouth had he seen the hand that groped for his or heard the feeble whisper for help as Odin sank against the dark stairs. The same panic had gripped him then.
But the sudden heartache that made his knees almost give out under him was a matter of habit, of so long spent hoping someday to live up to what Odin wished him to be. He clenched his fists now instead around the knowledge that if he would ever have what he desired, it would not come through such patient, pathetic, weakling hope. Yes, Frigga, he thought. I am so terribly sorry, but only for your sake. I am guilty of more than I would ever tell you, and I will do far more when the chance comes. I would call down a thousand Frost Giants on this place if it would serve my ends. And I still would not be the first to bring a monster into Asgard.
It was as he stood there willing the thudding of his heart to calm that Thor entered the room, his eyes wide and seeking, and Loki watched as Frigga stood, called out, rushed across the room toward him.
“Thor, oh Thor, my son!” she said, her slender arms going around his shoulders. She squeezed him tightly then stopped, retreating enough to look up at him, lips parted around a question she didn’t seem able to form.
Loki knew what went through her mind; he could see it in her moment of hesitation. Thor was changed, different, diminished. He was still the son she loved, yet he was not. She would worry all the more for him and already grieved him in a certain way. Loki’s face twisted gently into a smile of recognition, knowing that feeling, feeling it still, drawing strength from it. Thor diminished.
But as Loki watched, a curious finger pressed to his mouth, she shook her unease away and embraced him once more. “You have returned, as I knew you would.”
“What has happened?” Thor asked, his face pressed against the dull gold of her hair. “Is Father… do they say he will live?”
Frigga pulled back, a frown drawing the darkness under her eyes even deeper. “He is alive for now. The healers are uncertain, though, what tomorrow will bring. The wound was deep and badly placed, and the nature of the injury… the ice creates its own problems.”
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“Yes,” said Frigga. “I was there. Your brother stopped them. But he came too late to prevent this.”
Only then did Thor seem to focus on the form that lay flat and motionless on the broad plane of the bed.
Loki watched as Thor knelt by the bedside and wept, head bowed into his hands, the pale straw of his hair falling down as a ragged veil. He watched until he felt it was long past time to step out of the shadows.
“The healers say that even if he lives, he may not awaken for some time,” Loki said, approaching close with silent steps, coming to put a gentle hand on his brother’s trembling shoulder.
At the touch, Thor turned his head to look up at Loki. His eyes were red and puffy.
“Loki,” he said, and it was a plea and an accusation, and Loki met his gaze and answered it, steady and calm, his fingers curling just a little tighter.
Loki turned to seek out Frigga. She stood near, watching them. “Will you stay with Father tonight? Will you send for us if there is any change?” he asked.
Frigga nodded, looking over them both with sadness and regrets plain on her face, seeming somehow smaller to him than she ever had before, smaller and more frail.
“It has been a long day for us all,” he went on, “But I would speak with my brother before it is over, if that is all right.”
“Yes, go. Make peace with each other,” Frigga said in nearly a whisper, and her eyes stayed on Odin’s face as they departed.
*
And on the other side of the door waited the Warriors Three and Sif, who took in the sight of King Loki walking with his arm around his unresisting brother, both faces dark with grief. Each took an unconscious step backward as Loki returned their look with an icy stare, and they did not retrace it when Thor looked up as well, giving them no more than a small nod in greeting.
The two paused.
“Odin is alive but badly wounded. Frigga remains with him. All we can do now is hope,” Thor said in a hollow voice.
Once the brothers were gone, the four friends shared a look. This was definitely not a positive development.
*
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this is amazing. Incredible. Cannot wait for more!
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As they left Odin’s chambers, Thor realized he truly did feel weary, a fatigue from deep within as if his bones might crumble to dust and his sinews give out. It seemed impossible that the day had begun on Jane Foster’s rooftop, under the fading stars of Midgard. But if Loki noticed how his head drooped on his shoulders, he gave no sign.
Suddenly he could stand it no more and, reaching out to halt Loki’s progress by grabbing him sharply by the sleeve, Thor opened his mouth and forced out the words.
“Loki, the Frost Giants… did you… tell me, how did they get into the realm? This time and the last. Did you…” The back of Thor’s neck prickled as he asked it, as Loki stopped next to him, lips pressed into a thin line, staring away down the darkened hallway.
“Did I bring the Jotnar into Asgard to kill Father? No, Thor, of course not; what sort of monster do you think I am?” Loki said in a bland murmur, barely sparing him a glance. “Letting them in to spoil your coronation was my doing. I’ll admit to that. But today was an unintended consequence. I suppose they’re not quite as stupid as I thought.”
Beside him, Thor tried to form words and found himself unable. He stared at Loki in frank amazement.
Then Loki brushed his hand away with a quick, sharp gesture. “Do not forget your promise, brother, and do not attempt to make me feel guilty for this. Your reckless stupidity has almost led to deaths and you expected to be lauded for it.” His voice was low as a threat, and he did look at him then, the green of his eyes almost black.
And then the moment passed and Loki flickered a strained smile at him. “But we have other things to worry about now. I suspect we have much to do before we will be allowed to rest. The people of Asgard are surely in an uproar by now, and we cannot leave them to rumor and suspicion all night, can we?” Loki said, and he took the horned helmet from under his arm and slid it onto his head before they started off again.
Of course he had not forgotten, Thor thought as they walked the rest of the way side by side in silence. Though for the past several hours it had been pushed to the back of his mind, he had never wholly forgotten. It had been a hum, a current flowing under his thoughts: what Loki had demanded and why he had agreed. He might have said he had done it because it was the only way to protect the mortals of Puente Antiguo, the only way he had to defend his friends. But it was also because it was the only way to get Loki to stop so Thor could try to help him.
As he looked over at Loki now-giving no sign of the tempest Thor had seen in him on Midgard, seeming now only calmly determined (Thor had never been able to fathom Loki’s ability to conceal his feelings and intentions so completely, could not grasp that sort of deception or why Loki thought it necessary, but he had learned that Loki always held some part of himself back)-as he looked at him now, the question that remained was how he was to actually do what he meant to do. How he would help Loki in the midst of whatever Loki might be planning himself. How he would heal Loki’s carefully hidden wounds when, certainly, as always, his brother would not even admit to having them.
Thor was still thinking of this as he followed Loki into the throne room, where he was struck with the hush louder than any he had ever heard (or perhaps the chaos quieter). He had not been in that room since the day he had been meant to step into Odin’s place as ruler of Asgard. He had last seen it thronged with people shouting his name. Now the assembled councilors and courtiers watched them with wary expectation, looking back and forth between them, each trying to hold a respectful silence while at the same time clamoring to hear what they would say.
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And Loki stood before them, his hands spread in a gesture for silence, drawn up to his full height. Thor thought that Loki had never seemed so tall before, or he had never noticed, had always thought of him as younger, shorter, smaller, even if they had perhaps been eye to eye for centuries. And he had never seemed so regal, from the set of his shoulders to the steady, expressive calm he exuded.
“Odin Allfather,” Loki said, his voice carrying easily throughout the hall without him seeming to raise it, “has indeed been gravely wounded in a cowardly attack by a handful of enemy soldiers. At this hour he lives still, and we must all trust to the skill of our healers that he will remain so. We can also take comfort in the knowledge that those who committed this terrible act have already met a swift and final justice.”
As Thor watched, the tension that boiled and surged just beneath the still waters before him cooled ever so slightly. A few of those in the crowd nodded, slow but willing. The rest waited for whatever Loki would say next. And Thor bit his own lip, wondering what he might have said if he had been the one to speak in that moment. Once he would have said no words at all to such a gathering-he would have already been halfway to Jotunheim with an army. His father had been right. Loki had been right.
Then he heard his name being spoken and saw Loki’s hand stretched out toward him, his lips curved in a smile soft but genuine.
“… returned to us, yes, and therein lies Asgard’s hope on this dark day. My brother is still a prince of Asgard, and he will serve as my advisor until such time as his powers are restored or until Odin awakens.”
Thor stared at him as the last of the mutters of a throne stolen died away.
*
“So would you have had me tell them all of our arrangement?” Loki asked wryly when Thor sputtered the question that he had quite clearly been needing to ask through the entire walk back to Loki’s chambers. “I don’t think your pride could have stood that, brother.”
“But… today you sent the Destroyer to kill me, and now you smile and say that… and act as if nothing happened!”
Loki could not help but laugh. “Oh, my dear Thor. Did you expect I would make you kneel at my feet as I sit on our father’s throne? Did you expect I would parade you through Asgard on a leash? I suppose it’s a good thing one of us has heard of the concepts of subtlety and restraint.”
Thor gave him a look that could only be described as crestfallen.
Restraint, and patience. Odin had always tried to teach it to Thor and had never succeeded, but Loki was capable of the patience of a spider in a web. It was the only thing that had enabled him to make it through this long day, knowing that if only he could bring the Jotnar to Odin’s chambers without arousing suspicion, lie to Frigga well enough to gain her support, deflect his brother’s annoying and noisy friends, and convince the people of Asgard to follow his rule for at least a while longer, he would have everything he wanted. (And if his vision had blurred vengeance-red upon seeing Odin’s spilled blood, and if he had dampened his mother’s shoulder with true tears, and if the look in Sif’s eyes had actually stung him… no one needed to know it.)
And he had done it. He had won. Thor was his to do with as he wished, to rule over as a tyrant even as he gave his brother the illusion of choice, to torment for his own pleasure as Thor had for so long unwittingly tormented him.
Thor was still watching him in confusion, brow scrunched, trying to work through it all. “So… how will it be, then? Brother, what do you want me to do?”
Loki took in the sight of him, and he licked his lips and smiled.
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