Chapter Text
“How did the guard even know?” Volstagg gestured half-heartedly with the arm still being healed.
Loki looked up from his hand, his normal, treacherous hand. “I told him.”
For a moment, there was silence. Then Fandral turned to look incredulously at him. “What?”
“I told him to go to Odin after we’d left. He should be flogged for taking so long. We should never have reached Jotunheim.”
Hogun listened silently as Loki explained his actions calmly, with perhaps just a hint of impatience that he had to explain at all. Volstagg was not so reserved.
“You told the guard?”
“I saved our lives,” the dark-haired prince retorted, quiet but firm. “And Thor’s.” The nails of his right hand dug into the skin of his left, as though they could peel away the lies he knew to be there and reveal the horrible truth that lay beneath. “I had no idea Father would banish him for what he did.”
It wasn’t a lie, exactly. The idea of Thor, the favored son, being banished was something Loki had never contemplated. Punished, yes. Severely, for breaking a truce and inciting war, absolutely. But banished? It was an idea so preposterous that even now, he didn’t let himself contemplate the fallout of these events.
Sif leaped from her couch and approached him with all the deadly grace of a hunting cat. “Loki, you must go to the Allfather and convince him to change his mind.”
Loki, you must do this. Loki, you must do that. Loki, you’re the only one clever enough to talk the Allfather out of a decision he made in the heat of terrifying anger and, worse, icy disappointment. The blind confidence that normally would have stroked his ego now grated like spines in a bloody wound.
“And if I do, then what?” he spat with quiet venom. “I love Thor more dearly than any of you, but you know what he is.” Sif’s eyes widened; this was not a side of the younger prince that she was familiar with. “He’s arrogant. He’s reckless. He’s dangerous. You saw how he was today,” he snarled, his own pain bleeding through the words he struggled and failed to keep calm and detached, making them bitter. “Is that what Asgard needs from its king?”
Loki turned towards the door, intending to make his exit before the secret bubbling up from his gut could escape his clenched teeth, only to discover that the man he called his father was standing just inside. How long had he been there? None of them had been facing that direction. What had he heard?
“No,” Odin said with sad finality. “That is certainly not what a king of Asgard should be.”
“Allfather,” Sif gasped before dropping respectfully to one knee.
Hogun spun around to do the same, while the two recovering made motions to kneel that were aborted by a single raised hand biding them stay seated.
“Loki,” he continued calmly, “you demonstrated great wisdom this day. To seek the aid of another when your own abilities are insufficient to solve a problem is not weakness. The guard reached me in plenty of time.”
The two who had been injured swallowed exclamations of surprise; Sif gasped.
“I allowed you to go to Jotunheim as a test. To see if Thor was truly ready.” Odin’s single eye roamed sadly over his son’s companions. “He was not. I have banished him to Midgard, until such time as he learns that a king must serve his people rather than being served by them, and is worthy once again of consideration for the throne. Until then, he will live or die by his own actions. I know that you, his dearest companions, would die for him. That is a price he must learn to value before you are called upon to pay it. But I come to you with even graver news.”
Loki swallowed, once again picking at his left hand with absent-minded fervor.
“Laufey has declared war, as is his right after Thor’s unprovoked attack, and I must enter the Odinsleep soon. I had put it off, hoping to pass the throne to Thor, but…” He sighed heavily. “I now must ask you, his closest companions, to give Loki your support as you would Thor. Until I awaken from the Odinsleep, he will be king of Asgard.”
Volstagg and Sif went rigid, as though Odin had just announced that they would all be tortured. Hogun, grim as always, merely bowed. It was Fandral who found his voice first, murmuring “Yes, of course,” while Loki clenched his jaws together until they creaked.
The Allfather impaled each of the Warriors Three with his gaze, holding them until he was satisfied that they would do as he asked. Sif glared fiercely back for a long moment before bowing her head, and a small smile played on the king’s lips before he turned to his remaining son and all humor died. “Loki,” he said softly, “there are things we must discuss, and time is short. Walk with me.”
“Yes, Father.” The dark-haired prince threw an almost pleading glance over his shoulder as Odin turned to open the door, but only bowed heads answered him.
“You are angry with me,” Odin said without preamble as they entered the sprawling royal wing. “You have every right to be. I should have listened to your mother. I should have told you before now.”
“Told me what?” Loki asked, as if he didn’t already know. He suspected, but he wanted so very badly to be wrong.
“On the day that I took the Casket from Jotunheim, I stole an even greater treasure.” He stopped and faced his adopted son, meeting silent accusation with apology and pride. “You. In the aftermath of the battle, I went into the temple and I found a baby. Small, for a giant’s offspring, but clearly treasured and placed there for protection. Laufey’s son.”
“Laufey’s son?” Loki repeated, unable to accept this horrible truth just yet.
“I took you and raised you as my own in the hopes that we could unite our kingdoms one day, bring about an alliance, bring about a permanent peace through you.” He swayed briefly, weariness weighing heavily on him. “And now, I must unfairly thrust that burden onto you along with everything else that comes with ruling Asgard and hope, when I awaken, that you can forgive me.”
“Guards!” Loki shouted as Odin swayed again, frantic now, doing what he could to ease the older man gently to the floor. “Guards, please help!” The golden cocoon of light surrounded the Allfather’s body, now so deep in slumber as to be on the verge of death.
Armored men ran up, gathered their king gently and carried him to the protected room where he would sleep, and regain his strength. Loki followed in their wake, feeling adrift. He was numb, the temporary numbness that promised great pain when it wore off, and with strangely dry eyes he watched the man he called his father settled into the enormous bed, only distantly aware that Frigga had entered the room and was holding his hand. The guards filed out, and as the door boomed shut behind him, the ice in his heart broke.
Frigga held her adopted son tenderly as he wept, dashed upon the rocks of uncertainty by the storm of betrayal that raged within his heart.
When Loki stepped into the chamber bearing Gungir, Fandral was the first to notice. The blond swordsman stopped his frenetic pacing, the abrupt stillness drawing Sif and Hogun’s attention. They stood, awkwardly, wondering whether they should kneel.
“Please don’t,” Loki said tiredly when Hogun seemed about to go to one knee, his heart still sore and bleeding beneath its protective coating of ice. He strode swiftly forward and sat on the end of the couch Volstagg had just sat up from reclining on, the hand not holding the golden spear massaging his temple.
“What troubles you, my king?” Sif asked sharply as she sat back down.
“The fact that I’m king,” he returned dryly.
“Isn’t that what you wanted when you brought three Jotuns into Asgard to disrupt Thor’s coronation?”
Loki stared at her for a long moment, aware that the Warriors Three were weighing him with their eyes. “Yes,” he said slowly, “I brought three Jotuns into Asgard to disrupt my brother’s coronation. I didn’t think he was ready, and I wanted to prove that. But I never wanted the throne for myself.”
“Don’t lie,” she snapped back. “I know you’ve always been jealous of Thor.”
“I have, you are correct.” He gestured at them. “He is strong and admired, loved by all, the Allfather’s favorite, and he has all of you. Can you blame me for being jealous of that? He nearly got us all killed, and instead of being angry with him, we turn that anger on the one responsible for his banishment. All I have ever wanted was to be so beloved, to be trusted and admired as you trust and admire him.”
Guiltily, the other four exchanged glances, remembering how often they’d doubted and jabbed at Loki.
“Loki,” Fandral said slowly, “have you been crying?”
“A further proof of how much I do not want this,” he answered with a tired smile. “I entrust you now with a secret entrusted to me by Odin just before he…” Loki trailed off, breath catching in his throat.
He set Gungir aside, the spear standing upright of its own accord, and summoned the Casket from the netherspace in which it had been stashed. Eyes closed, he listened for the gasps that would announce his skin changing. When the change completed, he opened red eyes and watched as the others recoiled.
“Ancient blood magic binds me to the House of Odin,” he rasped, “but I was taken from the temple on Jotunheim on the same day the war ended, born the son of Laufey.” The Casket was banished with a gesture, and he watched with visible relief as the blue faded from his skin. “And now, a Frost Giant sits on the throne of Asgard while Laufey has declared war. This is hardly an enviable position to be in.” Catching Sif’s horrified expression, he smiled grimly. “I did not want the throne when I thought myself wholly Asgardian. You think I do not know the rioting my true parentage would cause? I am the monster that parents tell their children about at night. I want no part of this, but I have no choice. A king must serve his people. But now…”
“You have more than one people to serve,” Hogun finished for him.
Volstagg chewed absently on a bite of pheasant. “That is a tricky one, isn’t it? How to stop a war when you’re suddenly invested in both sides.”
Loki spread long-fingered hands. “I need your help. I cannot yet see clearly past the emotions this revelation has stirred up. My impulse is to assassinate Laufey, but…”
“That would end the war while they scrambled to replace him,” Fandral agreed, seating himself by Hogun. “But it would forever close the door of potential reconciliation. Not only with Laufey, but possibly with all of Jotunheim.”
“My father – the Allfather – hoped that our kingdoms could be allied one day through me. He would not want me to burn that bridge, I am sure.”
“Does Laufey know?”
All eyes turned to Hogun.
“It’s Thor he has a grudge against,” Sif offered reluctantly. “Thor, and Odin for stealing you. But you…”
“You’re his son,” Fandral picked up when she trailed off. “His stolen son. Maybe if you bring him the news of Thor’s banishment…”
“Tell him you banished Thor,” Volstagg interjected, sounding almost cheerful. “It’s almost the truth.”
Loki turned to look at him. “You think that would cool his rage?”
“If my stolen son wound up king of whoever’d stolen him, I’d be pretty proud of him.” The bearded warrior gave him a generous shrug. “If he did it through trickery and I had no love for his adopted people, I’d be doubly proud.”
“Full of traitors,” Loki murmured, remembering. “A murderer and a thief. He might believe that. He might be willing to work with his estranged son. I’d still prefer to lure him to his death,” he admitted with a grimace.
“That would be beneath you,” Sif chided him. Her sharp, angry tone clearly took the others by as much surprise as it did Loki. “You are king of Asgard and heir to the throne of Jotunheim. Regicide would dishonor both your fathers’ names.” When they continued to stare at her in astonishment, she colored slightly. “We all know that Thor doesn’t listen to sense most of the time, but when he does, he listens to you. We’ve all fallen victim to your tricks, but you are more often than not the voice of reason. If we are to support you as we would Thor, then someone needs to take your place as the bearer of harsh truths.”
A faint smile ghosted across Loki’s lips, and he inclined his head to her. “Thank you. I will endeavor to be wiser than my brother, and listen to cooler heads when my heart drowns mine out.”
Fandral grinned at him. “Well, I’ve no desire to pick a fight with Jotunheim again anytime soon, and to give you anything less than our unwavering support would dishonor Thor.”
“We’d have been fighting Jotuns soon enough even if you hadn’t done anything,” Volstagg said with another careless shrug. “I hate to say it, but we all know how he is. It’ll be interesting to follow a son of Odin who actually thinks about getting out alive before it becomes necessary.” He paused. “Erm…you will ask Heimdall how he’s doing from time to time, won’t you?”
Loki smiled in relief. “I already have. He’s unharmed, and in the company of a handful of mortals intent on learning the secrets of the universe. With any luck, they’ll keep him too occupied to get himself into too much trouble, and teach him how to use the wits he was born with.” The smile faded out. “Do you think I should make it publically known that I am…”
Sif and Hogun exchanged looks. “Wait,” the grim-faced warrior said simply.
“Until after the threat of war is over,” Sif clarified. “Then, with your lady mother at your side and possibly the Allfather as well, you can announce that your secret past was the path to peace.”
“I hope you’re right,” Loki said wearily as he stood up. “I certainly can’t see it as anything to be proud of at the moment, but this war isn’t going to end itself. I must speak with Heimdall, and then…Laufey.”
“Do not hesitate to call upon us,” Sif said, hurrying to stand only to fall gracefully to one knee, fist over her heart. “…my king.”
One by one, the Warriors Three followed her lead and a bit of the ice in Loki’s heart began to thaw.