Stars, hide your fires,
Let not light see my black and deep desires;
The eye wink at the hand; yet let that be
Which the eye fears, when it is done, to see.
-Macbeth, William Shakespeare
Asgard was never without stars or light. The golden kingdom overlooked the cosmos, the other Realms remaining in sight. It was beautiful. Yet, inconvenient. How should a God hope to go unnoticed with all that light around? Yet the light did not purvey all areas. It lay grieving for the lost prince and cast down shadows of the great city's frown lines. It didn't seem to care for the prince it still had.
A dark figure shifted through the mournful shadows. With the golden son of Asgard banished, only he was left; the darker prince that went ignored save for his tricks. He moved swiftly through corridors. No one crossed his path, and when they did, they refused to meet his eyes.
Was he to be judged forever more as the substitute called on in the absence of his brother? How cruel the hand that he had been dealt. And yet... Did this not give him the perfect opportunity while the stars were so distracted? Could he not use these shadows to his advantage?
Long had he wanted to be Thor's equal, but only in the darkness of his thoughts had he dreamed of surpassing him. A banishment wove a story in the stars that called their attention from the shadows they usually hunted.
Perhaps it is time for my star to shine, Loki thought, twirling a rough-edged tarot card in his adept fingers.
He allowed the card to fall to the ground as he stepped into the light, taking no heed of which way the 'THE STAR' fell.
Had he looked back then he would have seen it reversed, a sign of despair to come at the revelation of his desires. Though, surely, the God of Lies could find a way to turn the card to his needs, could he not?