Such a misleading title; All-Father.
This to describe a man who never once in how many centuries though it important to mention that he isn't yours.
You did not expect to survive the fall. You intended not to. You are not floating, but neither are you supported. The void is cold and utterly barren, beyond anything you know about the universe, and you are alone, without even the stars as companions. You only know that you still live because of the bone-deep ache of the aftermath of your battle, pulsing with every beat of your heart. It would seem that Fate has not finished having her jest yet, to cast you into such a place.
Laufey's son.
Not Odinson, Laufeyson, and it changes everything. Pieces of a puzzle you were never aware you were assembling fall into place, coming together with a sudden, startling clarity, even as all nine realms drop out from beneath your feet. Every truth you have ever accepted is subject to scrutiny, every memory examined. You had always believed that Odin favored Thor because they were uniform in a way that you were not; a weapon felt natural in their hands the same way the magic did in yours. Perhaps that is why Frigga encouraged you to seek magic, because the All-Father misliked the idea of you being taught to be a master of sword and shield, rather than words and illusion.
You know better now. Thor is his son. You are a means to an end, stolen away by the enemy of your people, raised as an Asgardian until the time was right for you to claim a throne you never sought. You were always meant to be relegated to that desert of snow and ice, to lose everyone and everything you have ever known. Better to do it this way. Destroying Jotunheim was a calculated move; you cannot inhabit a throne that no longer exists.
Knowing what you are, your actions will likely be dismissed as bloodlust and thirst for vengeance. That is, after all, your true legacy. Your decisions will be viewed through a lens of ice, interpreted as a desperate, mad bid for power. You are a frost giant, the refuse* of a cruel, warlike race known to revel in blood and death. You have spent a thousand years and a thousand more learning the Aesir, the way they think. It will all seem clear to them in retrospect. They will remember your tricks and their sometimes violent consequences, but not how frequently you counseled caution. They will never remember how they branded you a coward for wending your way around obstacles rather than battering through them. There is glory in being the victor of war, but not in out-thinking your opponent and preventing it entirely.
Because of that, they will never understand that you could never have proven your worth as a son of Odin as Thor could. You have never been and would never be a warrior, victorious in battle, unflinching in the face of hopelessness. You had little choice but to orchestrate the coup that you could then prevent, thus proving you deserving of your father's regard.
No. Not your father.
You preferred your world the way it was, when you were a prince, and a brother, and a son. Despite Frigga's assurances, you know now that none of it was true. Quite a feat, to deceive Loki Liesmith for such a span of time. Yet a door once opened cannot be closed, and a truth cannot be unspoken. You are irrevocably changed, exposed to your own eyes for the first time in memory, and you cannot unknow it. You inhabit lies and trickery, but your silver tongue has never been enough to fool yourself.
You have made war with the Jotunns, have heard the stories of their cruelty, their ferocity. You spent centuries playing at being Aesir, being a prince, and it never became you. You were always lesser, always outshone and outmatched. You understand now that despite having the throne of Asgard forced upon you, you would never have been seen as a king. Heimdall proved it when he betrayed you. Sif and the Warriors Three proved it when they disobeyed the first command you gave as King.
Why couldn't they have left well enough alone? You had been watching: it was your deceit about Odin's death that had tempered Thor's arrogance. He would have learned some humility and been back sometime after Odin woke and your machinations had run their course. He would have been angry with you for the lie, but you would have proven that you were more than just the deficient alternative for the throne. You would have finally earned your place as his equal, proven your dedication to Asgard, to Odin.
But no. Thor had to act as always, as your foil. Instead of being remembered as the King who saved Odin's life and prevented a war, you will be seen as the jealous, ungrateful get of a Frost Giant, who is so desperate for slaughter that you attempted to massacre your own people. You will be branded a traitor to the royal family when the truth of you comes out, and in doing so, you will be left only with the hatred and revulsion of the people whose regard you have sought. You will become the cautionary tale of Asgard: the Jotunn masquerading as a son of Odin to take control from inside the palace, defeated by the glorious warrior Thor.
Very well then. If this is the truth of you, let it be the entire truth. You will become what you always were, what Odin always knew you had the capacity to be.
You have always walked along the edge of chaos, but now you will step over it, let it consume you. You will learn what it means to be a monster.
If you cannot be great, then you will be terrible.
*Refuse, in this context, means 'something that is discarded as worthless or useless' rather than to deny.