Chapter Text
It could have been just another ordinary day in Asgard.
At first glance, there was no indication that today was any different from the day before, or from any other day before that. Everything appeared just the same as it always had been. The sounds of servants, warriors, and other residents of the royal palace going about their everyday lives carried through the halls and corridors, gardens and training grounds; but in Prince Loki’s private chambers, only muted echoes of them could be heard.
The drawing room was bathed in sunlight. Strange iridescent crystals that hung by the window reflected specks of light onto the walls and ceilings, and the masterful details of the ornate furniture were highlighted by the glow. A faint scent of herbs and pine floated in the air.
Loki sat in his favorite reading spot by the balcony, where the warm breeze gently ruffled his hair. This was where he could be found on most mornings, engrossed in a book or examining some timeworn manuscript. On this particular morning, however, there was no book nor parchment scroll to be found in his lap, and the serene atmosphere of the room felt obtrusive rather than refreshing. Loki’s fingers kept tapping restlessly against the armrest of the chair as he waited.
Finally, he heard a knock at the door, and a guard in golden armor walked in.
”My Prince,” he began, just barely managing to settle his tone into something sufficiently respectful, ”the Queen requests your presence.”
Loki nodded and dismissed the messenger with a wave of his hand. The guard appeared rather relieved, bowing just a bit too shallowly and walking out of the room just a bit too quickly for good manners.
Loki did not bother to reprimand him. After all, he was rather used to the fact that servants and warriors alike often felt uneasy in his presence.
Not that they could really be blamed for that.
As the sky grows dark over the eternal land, Ragnarök shall follow in the footsteps of the Prince of Asgard.
That was Loki’s curse. A prophecy, given shortly after his birth to his mother Frigga, Queen of Asgard – it was said that she had the gift of sight, though Loki could not fathom how such a burdensome ability could be called a gift. He would certainly have preferred to live his life not knowing that his existence would ultimately bring ruin and death to all of Asgard.
Over the course of hundreds upon hundreds of years, those words had carved their way under Loki’s skin, curled around his heart, burned a permanent mark into some shadowy corner of his mind. He had long since learned to ignore the poorly concealed stares and whispered remarks that followed him through the hallways of the royal palace, to take it all in his stride; but he could never quite forget.
Some days, Loki was sure that he would one day prove them all wrong, show them that he was and would always be loyal to Asgard. Other days, trying to defy this terrible fate seemed like a fool’s errand.
But today, things were different. For once, everyone seemed too preoccupied to stare at Loki as he made his way toward his mother’s private rooms. Whispers and rumors were traveling through the halls of the palace faster than the Allfather’s order to stifle them ever could: Prince Loki was no longer the only member of the royal family with a destiny foretold.
Loki was greeted by a strained silence as he stepped inside the Queen’s study. Thor and Frigga turned to look at him as he closed the door, while Odin stayed where he stood, still like a statue, staring out of the window with his back turned to the rest of the room.
”Is it true?” Loki asked, looking from his mother to Thor and back again.
”The son of Odin shall fall by the blade of a Jotun before the day has thrice dawned,” Thor recited, his usual lightheartedness replaced by a solemn frown. ”This was the message Mother received from the Norns at the moment she first saw me this morning.”
Silence fell again as Loki considered these words. Fall by the blade of a Jotun…
”My son,” said Frigga, placing her hand firmly upon Thor’s shoulder and holding his gaze. ”Prophecies are but fragmented flashes of things to come. The Norns speak only in riddles and secrets, and the paths of all living things are constantly changing.”
It was nothing Loki had not heard her say a thousand times before. He truly wanted to believe it, for the sake of Thor and himself both – but he could not see how this prophecy could mean anything else than what was there for anyone to clearly hear: Thor would be slain by a frost giant within three days’ time.
Loki’s blood grew cold as he thought about Thor, lying in a pool of blood with an icy blade stabbed through his heart… His foolish brother who charged into battle with a grin on his face, whom no warrior of Asgard could best in a fight. His brother who looked at him as if he wasn’t destined to bring about the literal end of the world.
Thor would be gone, and then Loki would become the heir to the throne of Asgard…
He pushed the thought away, ashamed of how quick his thoughts were to wander in that direction. He had once believed both of them had an equal chance of becoming the King… But he knew the people of Asgard would never accept him as their ruler, not when they knew where his path was headed.
”Thor, I’m – ”
”Worry not for me, brother,” Thor interrupted, looking a bit pale despite his unbothered tone of voice. ”I do not fear the words of the Norns. In fact, I intend to go to Jotunheim and face the frost giants eye to eye!”
”That you will not.”
Odin, who thus far had given no indication that he was listening, turned to face them with a grim look on his face.
Thor furrowed his brow. ”Father, I will not hide from this like some frightened child! I shall kill as many frost giants as I can and proudly join my ancestors in the halls of Valhalla.”
Loki suppressed an eye roll. Not even impending death could force Thor to use his brain.
Odin’s voice was stern. ”You will stay in the palace and not do anything rash! It was unfortunate that there were servants present when Frigga received this prophecy. By now, the rumors are spreading like wildfire through Asgard.”
Thor looked offended. ”Rash? I’ve been prophesized to die in three days, and you tell me not to do anything rash? This is ridiculous! Loki, you say something too!”
”Enough!” barked the Allfather, which Loki was rather thankful for since he wanted no part in this quarrel between his father and brother. ”You two are dismissed!”
Silence fell again. Loki grabbed his brother’s arm and started dragging him out of the room. At least Thor had enough sense not to object.
Outside, they stood a while in silence.
”Are you alright?” Loki asked tentatively.
”I’m fine,” Thor grumbled. ”And don’t give me that look.”
”What look?”
”The I think you’re a fool but I cannot say that to your face because you just found out you are going to die soon look.”
Loki sighed, though he couldn’t stop the corner of his mouth from curling into a half-smile. ”Well, you are a fool.”
”That’s more like it.”
”And we don’t know if you’re actually going to die.”
Thor gave him an incredulous look. Loki stared back, knowing full well that Thor’s death seemed rather likely – but he was not going to admit that to his face. Prophecies always came true, one way or another.
He decided to change the subject. ”What do you think Mother and Father are talking about in there?”
”I do not know. Mother must be worried, even though she hides it well.”
”We’re all worried, Thor.”
”Well, at least you don’t get to be the only family member with a dark and ominous future.”
Loki rolled his eyes. ”Come on, brother, let’s go get something to eat.”
~
Thor devoured three pheasants and seven mugs of mead without uttering a word, which must have been a record of some kind. Loki sat on the other side of the table equally silent, occasionally nibbling some fruit or a piece of bread.
Evidently Thor’s mind reached some sort of conclusion as he downed the last drink, for he slammed the mug back onto the table and declared, ”I’m going to Jotunheim.”
Oh, Norns.
”No. Absolutely not. Father said – ”
”I know what Father said.”
”Thor, that’s a horrible idea.”
”So I’m supposed to just wait here for whatever’s going to happen?”
”Thor – ”
”Surely you realize that my staying here puts Asgard at risk. If I don’t go to the Jotuns, then they will come to us!”
That gave Loki a slight pause. Was that why Thor was so eager to throw himself in harm’s way – to ensure the safety of the people of Asgard? Still, he thought his brother was cutting the corners just a bit too much with his interpretation of the prophecy.
Just as he was about to tell this to Thor, the air was suddenly pierced by the toll of alarm bells, followed by the sound of the palace’s wards activating.
Asgard is under attack.
Both of them scrambled up from the table, Thor’s hand already outstretched to call for Mjölnir.
”Told you!” Thor shouted, already rushing towards the nearest balcony as the hammer came flying through the air and landed in his hand with flawless aim. ”I’ll go find them, you go check on Mother!”
”Don’t do anything stupid!” Loki called after his brother. Then he headed back toward the Queen’s chambers, conjuring up his battle armor as he went.
He had barely made it halfway there when he turned a corner and almost walked straight into Frigga.
”Mother! What are you doing here?”
”Loki! Are you alright?” she said, placing her hands on Loki’s shoulders.
”Yes, Mother, I’m fine – do you know what’s going on?”
Frigga’s expression was somber. ”Frost giants,” she said, confirming what Loki had already assumed. ”They are already approaching the palace. Your Father thought they might find out about the prophecy and think their chance has come – so, he made sure our warriors were prepared.”
”So that’s why he ordered Thor to stay here. Because he knew they were coming for us.”
Frigga nodded in confirmation and asked, ”Where is Thor? Fighting?”
”Where else would he be?”
His mother smiled, though it did not reach her eyes. ”I’ll go down to help the healers. Don’t worry, I will be fine. Now, you go and help your brother.”
Loki nodded and hurried in the direction of the palace’s main entrance. Every time he passed a window, he glanced out of it, trying to get a look at what was happening outside, but he could not see much. Still, he could already hear sounds of battle carrying from somewhere not far away.
How the frost giants had managed to get to Asgard undetected so quickly, Loki could not begin to guess, but all that mattered right now was to drive them back to Jotunheim.
Some of the giants had managed to get as far as the palace courtyard, where a group of Einherjar were defending the entrance. Up close, the Jotuns were even larger than Loki had imagined, their red eyes gleaming menacingly as they sought to trample, freeze, and stab the warriors surrounding them. Loki could see smears of blue-gray blood, a color rather similar to the skin of the creatures, on the ground and all over the courtyard walls. He pushed past the fighting group towards the gates of the palace, dodging a few ice blades and aiming daggers at the monsters’ arms and legs.
Further out, on the other side of the palace wall, the fighting was the thickest. Among the chaos of the battle, the sounds of clashing weapons and screams of pain, Loki managed to recognize Lady Sif, who was fighting two Jotuns at once, and Volstagg, who just planted his axe in the skull of another, but they soon disappeared into the sea of Einherjar and Jotuns.
Loki began fighting his way through the mass, trying not to slip on the frozen ground or stumble on fallen bodies, many of which were covered in gruesome, black frostbite marks. Illusions weren’t of much use in such close quarters, but sending bursts of seiðr at the giants proved to be an effective diversion tactic. The giants were so tall that trying to reach their throats, let alone their heads, only slowed things down, so Loki kept moving, cutting hamstrings and tendons as he went and letting the Einherjar take care of the rest as the giants fell to their knees.
Occasional bursts of lightning over the battlefield told Loki that Thor was still alive and fighting, but try as he might to force his way through the chaos, his brother was nowhere to be seen.
He dodged another swing of an ice blade and buried a dagger between the giant’s lower ribs – and suddenly something slammed into him from behind, throwing him to the ground and knocking the wind out of his lungs.
Gasping for air, Loki pushed himself up to all fours, but he was immediately knocked back down onto his back by a Jotun who was holding a long sharp spike made of ice in its hand. The monster grinned as it bent over Loki and lifted the weapon, aiming it at his face.
In an attempt to deflect the worst of the hit, Loki threw his arm in the way of the spike. He immediately felt a sharp, burning pain as the weapon tore through his vambrace and into his skin. The Jotun’s grin widened as it drew back the blade and prepared to strike again.
This time Loki was ready. He sent a burst of seiðr to block the weapon’s fall, quickly rolled to the side, and buried a conjured-up dagger straight into the side of the giant’s neck, using the handle to pull himself back upright. As he pulled the dagger off again, the Jotun fell to the ground, blood gushing from the wound on its neck.
With a low grunt of pain, Loki tore off the remains of the now-useless vambrace and quickly glanced over the long, jagged cut covering his forearm. The wound was bleeding, but it didn’t seem that deep, which was lucky, considering healing magic had never been Loki’s strongest suit.
The battle around him seemed to have calmed down just a little. The ground was covered by dark blue blood, and the remaining fighters had to navigate their steps around the bodies of fallen giants. Each frost giant still standing appeared to be surrounded by multiple Asgardians.
Then, finally, among the swirl of golden armor and blue flesh, Loki caught a glimpse of a red cape.
He breathed a sigh of relief. Thank the Norns, Thor was still alive.
Loki began making his way toward his brother, stepping over the legs of a dead Jotun and circling around the body of another.
Suddenly, a frost giant – who until that exact moment had appeared very much dead, for it was lying on the ground with a spear right through its abdomen – opened its eyes and grabbed Loki’s exposed arm, its grip freezing and unmoving like stone.
Loki snarled and used his free hand to conjure up a dagger, wasting no time with cutting the giant’s throat open. The monster let out a repulsive gurgling sound, and its hold on Loki’s arm loosened.
Loki yanked his arm away, expecting to see the beginnings of a black frostbite mark over the previous slash wound. Instead, a bewildered gasp escaped his lips as he observed the skin all over his forearm and hand turning blue – a dark, smooth blue-gray, so very similar to the color of the Jotun blood strewn all over his armor. Suddenly, the spot on his arm no longer felt freezing. It was warm, almost burning, in comparison to the surrounding air.
Loki stared in shock as the strange color slowly retreated and then disappeared altogether, leaving behind his usual creamy skin. Through the strange buzzing that had begun in his mind, Loki faintly realized that the wound was gone.
As the last frost giants were slain, and the triumphant sound of war horns carried message of Asgard’s victory for all to hear, Loki stood unmoving amidst the bloody corpses of warriors and Jotuns.
~
The water in the basin was slowly gaining a bluish hue as Loki washed away the Jotun blood from his hands and face. The warriors had all retreated to their quarters to wash and get ready for the evening’s celebration. Loki, too, was back in his chambers, relieved to finally be alone.
He did not remember much of what had transpired after the battle was won. Thor had found him and hugged him, and he had hugged back and forced himself to smile and said something appropriately encouraging, though he wasn’t quite sure what that had been. His thoughts were chasing each other in circles, trying to settle on an explanation, a reason, a solution – but there were none to be found.
What am I?
Loki conjured up a knife and made a small cut on the side of his hand. Blood started welling up to the surface, deep red, just as it was supposed to be. Had always been. He stared blankly as a drop fell into the basin and started mixing with the blue. The tiny wound was already starting to close, and he wiped the blood away.
For such a long time, Loki had thought the prophecy was his curse. It was the reason why he was an outsider in his own home, why he could never be the perfect prince like Thor. Funny how that suddenly seemed like a minor detail in this mess of a life he had.
~
It had been some time since Loki had visited Odin’s treasury, but everything still seemed just the same. Ancient relics and spoils of war, the Allfather’s legacy in all its glory displayed upon pedestals of stone, deep down under the palace of Asgard. And there, at the center, lay the Casket of Ancient Winters.
Loki slowly walked over to the Casket and placed his hands on either side of it without yet touching. In the depths of the relic, an icy blue glow swirled and flickered restlessly, as if sensing Loki’s presence.
He took a steadying breath and lifted the Casket from the pedestal.
Immediately a deep blue color started spreading over his hands and up his arms, confirming the unspeakable truth.
Frost giant. Jotun. A monster.
”Loki,” said a familiar voice behind him.
He put the Casket back down, slowly and deliberately, and turned to look at his mother with eyes that he knew now appeared gleaming red instead of green. He had not heard her enter the vault. As Frigga walked closer, Loki could feel his Jotun skin slowly bleed back to normal.
”What am I?”
Loki hated hearing his voice sound so vulnerable and lost, but this was the one question that he desperately needed an answer to. And as always, his mother had the answer he desperately needed to hear. Frigga lifted her warm hands to Loki’s cheeks and said firmly, ”You are my son.”
This promise gave him the strength to ask, ”What more than that?”
She looked at him solemnly. ”Come, let us sit.”
They sat together at the foot of the grand staircase. Frigga began, ”At the end of Asgard’s war against the Jotuns, our forces drove the frost giants back to Jotunheim. That’s where Odin found you – a newborn Jotun child, abandoned on an icy rock. Laufey’s son.”
”Laufey?” Loki breathed, horrified. ”The Jotun King?”
Frigga nodded. ”Odin brought you here to grow up among Asgardians.”
So not only was Loki a Jotun, he was the son of their king . The more of this terrible secret was revealed, the less sense anything seemed to make.
”Why?” he asked. ”Why would he bring the child of his greatest enemy here? Tell me,” he added as she seemed to hesitate.
Frigga sighed. ”I believe he thought that you could help bring peace between Asgard and Jotunheim. But then the prophecy was revealed, and those plans were buried. They no longer matter, Loki. Asgard is your home now.”
Of course, Odin had a bigger plan. He always did. Loki had never been anything more than another possession for Odin to make use of. He wondered what his life would have turned out like had there been no life-altering prophecy. Would Frigga and Odin have told him about his heritage then? Would Asgard have hated him all the same?
Ironically enough, the prophecy suddenly made perfect sense. Of course Loki was destined to bring ruin to Asgard – he was a frost giant , brought up as the brother of the crown prince! How could there ever be a chance his existence would not lead to some horrible end? From the very beginning, Loki had been fighting a battle already lost, foolishly thinking he had any say in the outcome…
”Why didn’t you tell me?”
”We thought… We just wanted to protect you from this,” she replied, her eyes full of sorrow, ”So that you would not have to feel different.”
Loki had to hold back a burst of derisive laughter. ”Yes, why would I feel any different? Can’t think of any reason at all.”
They sat a while in silence. Then Frigga straightened her back and pushed herself up to standing. ”We shall have to discuss this more later. The people of Asgard are expecting us at the banquet. Everyone is celebrating our victory.”
”You mean celebrating Thor.”
”Don’t be too harsh on them for that. They seem to think Thor has conquered his destiny today.”
”Of course they do,” sighed Loki.
She gave him a look that said she did not disagree with her son but that it wasn’t proper to say such a thing out loud. ”We should go,” she said, taking Loki’s hands into hers. ”I know this is a difficult situation, my son. Being upset about this is to be expected. But Loki – try to forget all about this tonight and be happy for your brother.”
As he followed her out of the treasure vault, Loki murmured to himself, ”But he’s not my brother.”
~
The celebration was already in full motion when Loki entered the feast hall. Everyone appeared to be in high spirits; every once in a while, the chorus of some drinking song or other would rise above the general clamor and then die down again. Loki saw it all as if through a haze, like a veil had suddenly fallen between him and the rest of the world.
As usual, Thor appeared to enjoy being the center of attention. He sat with Lady Sif and the Warriors Three, surrounded by dozens of admiring warriors, giving grandiose speeches praising the might of Asgard and recounting his heroic deeds during the battle in excruciating detail.
As usual, no one paid much attention to Loki, who was standing by the doors.
The voice of some drunken guardsman bellowed, ”Let’s hear it for Prince Thor!” and a round of cheers and whistles erupted around him. ”He charged into battle against the frost giants without fear and triumphed gloriously! Prince Thor has defeated destiny itself!”
Loki rolled his eyes. These people were absolutely ridiculous. Celebrating Thor’s survival, even though the promised three days were not up yet? Did they pretend to be stupid or had wine and mead rendered them incapable of rational thought?
The drunken voice continued, ”With Prince Thor as her commander, Asgard will surely never fall! He shall defy the Norns themselves and save us from Ragnarök!” This was followed by another round of cheers and applause.
It was always about Thor, was it not?
Thor, the perfect Asgardian, loved and admired by all. Thor who was so brilliant not even the Norns could touch him. Who could cheat destiny by swinging his stupid hammer around and slaying a few frost giants. Whose flaws the people of Asgard only ever saw as proof of greatness.
Thor who was everything that Loki was not, heroic and reckless and most of all not cursed to live his life as an outsider.
Something shifted just slightly, then. Suddenly, Loki could see his life racing by in his mind’s eye, clear as day: every decision, every failure, every single little thing that had led him to this moment. He could see that fighting it had always been pointless. There was no winning.
And that feeling of emptiness twisted around inside him, morphing itself into white-hot anger so very easily. The words he had been repeating to himself all day returned once again: Son of Odin shall fall by the blade of a Jotun.
Well, that could certainly be arranged.
Loki could feel seiðr starting to gather inside him, eagerly feeding on the storm of emotion raging within. He gasped for breath as the sudden surge of power in his veins kept growing and growing, endlessly, effortlessly, an avalanche of raw magical energy that could not be stopped once it had begun.
Loki had no way of fighting the overwhelming sensation of too much seiðr washing over him. For a fleeting second, he was certain his skin was going to tear open from the inside out, all this energy had to find some way to break free – and then, all of the seiðr burst outward, finding its target with unstoppable accuracy.
Thor let out a horrible strangled sound and collapsed to the floor.