"Am I cursed?"
"No."
"What am I?"
"You're my son."
He looked down at his hands, releasing them from the Frost Giant's casket. They were no longer the same pale smoothness that they had been just moments before. They were cold, hard . . . and blue. If he could have, he would have told himself that it was a mere trick of the light. But there was no trick, no amount of excuses that could wipe away what he was seeing now. As he slowly turned he caught sight of his reflection; it was all he could do to keep himself from screaming. It was the eyes that terrified him the most. Could those really be his eyes? He completed his turn, allowing the other to see his full transformation. There was no surprise or shock from his father (could he still call him that?), not even a hint of horror in his old, wise face. In fact, there was no emotion at all that Loki could see, as if Odin had created a mask to hide his thoughts. This only made Loki tremble all the more with fear.
What isn't he telling me?
"What more than that?" he demanded.
Odin did not answer, but continued to watch as Loki slowly strode down the corridor, his movements as graceful and deadly as a cat ready to spring. That was how Loki felt, as if all of the fear and uncertainty he had just experienced was coiling inside him, ready to take him apart at the seams. He had to hear the truth . . . but he was afraid of what it might mean. He forced himself to speak again.
"The casket wasn't the only thing you took from Jotunheim that day, was it?" he whispered, feeling a well of emotion rising in his throat. With a monumental effort, he forced it back. He would not cry. Only children cried.
He stopped at the foot of the stairs, looking up into Odin's face, struggling to remain as calm and impassive as the Alfather. For a moment, neither spoke. Finally, Loki saw his father's shoulders sag slightly, his head drop just a fraction. But it was enough for Loki to see. He didn't look like the great warrior Asgard knew and loved. All of the regal bearing, all of the weight and strength that he possessed, seemed to suddenly disappear.
Is this really Odin Alfather? Loki wondered. He seems so frail, as if a breath of wind would drive him to the ground. He thought these things, but he kept them from showing on his face. He only wanted the truth . . . no matter the cost.
"No," Odin said at last, and his voice reflected the resignation his posture had already betrayed. Loki said nothing, but continued to stare at him in expectation. After a long pause, Odin continued. "In the aftermath of the battle, I went into the temple, and I found a baby. Small, for a giant's offspring. Abandoned, suffering . . . left to die . . . Laufey's son."
"Laufey's son." Loki could hardly bring himself to whisper the name. The idea stirred fear and confusion, both swirling together in his mind. He looked up at Odin once more. A part of him desperately hoped this was a test, or some cruel jest of the universe. But as the silence once more stretched on, that hope quickly faded away. The old man was looking at him with . . . was it pity? Or shame? Then, the Alfather nodded slowly.
"Yes," he replied, almost too quietly to hear.
Then he was not delusional, as he had hoped. He had not mistaken what he had seen on Jotunheim, battling the Frost Giants. He had wanted to tell himself that he had imagined it, that it couldn't be true. He was a son of Odin! But now, the very man he had called father all his life . . . he had lied to him. He was not an Odinson. He was the cast-out son of a monster. They had lied to him.
His whole life was a lie.
The veil of shock passed, and now an overwhelming feeling of panic and confusion swept over him. He suddenly found it difficult to breathe, as if the truth was closing off his lungs, denying him any semblance of control. He didn't want to hear any more. But there was more he had to know. Odin was keeping something from him still.
Do I really want to know?
"Why?" he cried. "You were knee-deep in Jotun blood. Why would you take me?"
"You were an innocent child."
The words sounded hollow, meaningless. Odin was hiding something. No one, least of all the King of the Nine Realms, would take the child of an enemy king without reason. What did he want with me?
"No. You took me for a purpose. What was it?"
Odin said nothing, and with each passing second, Loki felt his panic rising. He was hardly aware that he was gasping for air, desperately trying to hold back his fear. It was as if there was a wild animal inside him now, clawing at his heart, his soul. Why would the Alfather take a child of the Frost Giants if he didn't have a purpose for it? Why would he have taken him if not to use as a pawn for his own purposes?
The silence finally became unbearable.
"TELL ME!"he screamed. Tears spilled from his eyes without hindrance, carrying with them the rage of horror and grief and betrayal that ran like blood from his soul. Only children cry. He was a child! A child betrayed, a child whose life was now shattered by the very man he had called father.
"I thought we could unite our kingdoms one day," Odin explained gently. "Bring about an alliance, bring about permanent peace. Through you."
Loki looked at him in disbelief. Peace .. . through me . . ?
"What?" he whispered.
Odin looked away.
"But those plans no longer matter."
No longer . . . matter. . ?
"So I am no more than another stolen relic," he accused, his voice thick with pain, "locked up here, until you might have use of me." He didn't even try to stop the tears. They just kept coming.
"Why do you twist my words?" Odin asked painfully, his good eye brimming with the same tears as his son.
"You could have told me what I was from the beginning. Why didn't you?" Loki challenged. If you truly love me as you say you do, why couldn't you grant me that one act of honesty with me?
"You're my son," Odin repeated. "I only wanted to protect you from the truth."
Truth . . ? A lifetime of deception is better than the truth?
"What, because I . . . I'm the monster who parents tell their children about at night?" he sobbed. Suddenly, all of Loki's grief and horror and fear hardened and exploded in a blaze of white-hot rage, blinding his eyes as much as the tears of his betrayal. He found himself stalking up the stairs, towards the man he had thought was his father. "You know it all makes sense now," he spat. "Why you favored Thor all these years! Because no matter how much you claim to LOVE me, you could never have a Frost Giant sitting on the throne of Asgard!"
When he finally became aware of his senses, Loki found he was standing over Odin, lying prostrate on the stairs. The old man's hand had just slipped from the hem of his cloak, as if he had been trying to say something. Loki's anger suddenly vanished as he realized what was happening. He slowly knelt beside Odin, his tear-filled eyes not quite believing what they were seeing. Odin didn't move.
Is he . . . no, please! He can't be . . !
But he wasn't. Odin was breathing peacefully, his face now empty of any emotion whatsoever. Loki slowly reached out a hand, gently touching the old man, as if to assure himself that he was not dead. He was almost afraid to touch Odin now, afraid that he might break under his hand. The last time he had seen his father like this –
He isn't your father, his anger whispered in his ear. He lied to you! He deceived you! You were nothing but his tool, his pawn . . .
"Guards!" he screamed desperately. "Guards, please help!"
The doors behind him burst open. Loki allowed himself to be moved away as the two guards rushed to his side. He didn't know what to do. He didn't know what he had done.
He's not your father.
Healers were quickly summoned, and Odin was carried away, leaving Loki standing there alone.
He's not your father.
But I still love him.
He sank to his knees on the stairs and sobbed into his hands.
What have I done?