Chapter Text
Loki stared into the void with a twitching cheek set on a placid expression, eyes flashing with restrained anger. He had planned on using the power of the Bifrost to annihilate those frost giants. End the war before it ever started- win the praise and acclaim that would come with proving himself as a true Asgardian and distance himself from those barbarians of the icy realm.
It took the dark morning hours and a few words to change his mind.
Heimdall's creaking form stood behind him, sword outstretched and frozen in the position of his halted regicide. Turning his eyes away from the emptiness of the void, Loki switched his focus to the Destroyer's eyes and watched Thor's heroics. Noting how the lightning crackled, Mjolnir was seconds away from returning to the banished prince; Loki gave a self-deprecating snort. Of course, it would be that easy. When had Odin ever made things truly difficult for his favored son?
Loki clenched the king's journal tightly in his hand.
Twelve hours ago, Loki had been determined to prove himself a true son of Odin Allfather... before the book hidden in its secret glamor revealed the truth.
The book had barely been hidden. Odin’s ornate desk was a small deterrent, with its legacy and imposing importance, but Loki, as King Regent, felt mischief in his bones. That attitude allowed him to behave mischievously, touching every part of the desk and looking through all the paperwork, nooks, and crannies.
Opening that empty drawer caught his attention. Every other compartment had items within it all meticulously organized and arranged. It took barely a cantrip and a wiggle of his little finger for Loki to uncover the spell hiding the journal. He had been so excited to find it, delighted to learn about the thoughts and perhaps desires Odin told no one but the impartial sheets of paper.
What he found paled in comparison to his greatest fears.
In forty-eight hours, he had learned that not only was he a member of a monstrous race, completely antithetical to his learned values, but that his 'father' was a liar twice over.
Abandoned in a temple, NO, the Allfather and his armies had come upon the sacred place guarded by multitudes of Laufey’s best men. Believing the soldiers to be protecting the Casket of Ancient Winters, the Asgardians had slaughtered the temple's guardians. Once they learned the Casket was not the temple’s treasure but Laufey's first-born heir, plans were changed. Odin and his generals had wanted to press their advantage and use the baby frost giant as collateral to force surrender from the enemy combatants. It was Odin, himself, who proposed the idea of raising Loki in a noble house and installing him as a puppet king of Jotunheim once he came of age.
The Aesir proceeded to win the battle and ultimately the war, taking the Casket of Ancient Winters into custody. It was written that cries of despair and mourning were heard from the temple as the Asgardians claimed their double bounty.
Frigga, and by extension Thor, had fallen in love while fostering Baby Loki, and thus Odin's previous plots fell through and he erased the memories of the generals who had accompanied him.
The truth of the matter hit Loki squarely in his chest, there was now no deluding himself. He would never measure up to Thor or any other Asgardian in Odin's eyes, the Allfather merely had a dashed purpose for him. He was a prince by accident and a god of Odin's most hated attributes.
Loki had not slept, running his mind through every instance in his childhood when Odin and Asgard were cold or impervious to Loki's hurts. The golden walls of the palace held endless memories of suffering, belittlement of his strengths and abilities, amusement at his weaknesses and ‘womanly desires’, and deeply suppressed remembrances of torture at the instruction of his ‘father’, the consent of his brother, and the inaction of his mother.
Loki’s eyes were open and his mind was awake, there was never any problem with him. He was a freak of nature and a monstrosity, but it was them; They were the problem for trying to force him to conform to their ideals without compromise.
Odin was the creator of the abusive pattern of his childhood- before many learned that his retaliation was swift and unmerciful. He spent his whole night ruminating on those thoughts, and the morning sun rose with the betrayal of Heimdall and the warriors three and Lady Sif. Loki could think of no other livable solution than the one his mind had whispered to him in the cold recesses of the dark sky.
Loki's heart had hardened against all of Asgard and as he watched its equally golden prince regain his godhood, there was no joy or celebration just his next steps.
Loki returned from his mindful wandering and the vision of Thor in full regalia to look back at the time-frozen Heimdall. Stepping closer within the reach of the sword, Loki placed a finger on its sharp point to pull back sharply, watching the dew drop of blood welt up. With a thought and a waving gesture, Heimdall dropped his sword with a clang, breathing heavily and glaring daggers at Loki.
“Stand up and retrieve Thor and his friends,” the words were short and succinct, but they seemed to fill Heimdall with confusion that Loki did not revel in.
“What nefarious plans do you create now? You traitor, oathbreaker,” the words were spat with deep vitriol. Loki’s expression, which now held unwavering stillness did not shift.
“I suppose that would be for you to find out, bring them back. Now.” Loki confidently showed his back to the staggering man as Heimdall made his way to the Bifrost’s switch and Loki let the glowing kaleidoscope consume his vision until five warriors stood before him.
“Loki, you will pay for your treason. This will not go unanswered now that the true heir has been proven worthy.” Sif’s words made it through Loki's conscious mind, but he was too occupied with meeting Thor's gaze to repose. The man he had thought of as his brother, the man who he had always aspired to be.
Thor, released from his mortal form, was once again glorious. He shone from his golden hair to tanned skin and the pins that littered his shoulders. Thor was so bright that Loki wanted to close his eyes to him.
There was a question in Thor’s gaze, a want of an answer, that was held on his tongue poking through his lips. But Loki did not want to hear any questions from Thor, and he had no time for the others. He had spent his whole life trying to be the person Thor would look to in pride; there was no more room for this false brotherhood in his heart.
Loki lifted Gungnir and let it drop an inch to the ground, silencing the bloody diatribe of the warriors four and Heimdall, while drawing Thor's attention to the King's staff and Loki’s apathy.
“Loki, brother, what are you doing? Why are you behaving this way?”
“You ask him questions as though you seek satisfying answers. He has no purpose but mischief and chaos,” Sif crouched into a battle stance immediately emulated by the others. “King Thor, we are prepared to take back your throne for the glory of Asgard.”
Thor was unstirred. His attention focused on Loki, who made no move to defend himself by words or might.
Loki was tired of the drama. Time was of the essence, and any delay in his plans could mean a loss of freedom once more.
“Thor, the high council is gathering to witness our exchange of power. Make your way to the throne room. I will be waiting.” Loki turned and disappeared into the spaces in between, ignoring the protests and declarations of his impending trickery.