Thor Interlude: Severed Son
Frigga did not look up immediately when she sensed Loki beside her. Of all the residents of the palace, she was the least bothered by his sudden appearances and right now, it was comforting. He said nothing at first, but when she finally did gaze at him, his frown of concern brought a tired smile to her face.
"It's good to see you, Loki," she said gently, rising to kiss his cheek. She took a short step back, gazing deeply into his dark eyes. "It seems the weight of rule has already started to show on you."
"Not the rule, mother," he replied, smoothing a wandering lock of her hair. "And you look more tired than ever. You need to rest. I still say that others are able to watch Father until he awakens."
Frigga shook her head firmly. "When he is in the Odinsleep, I do not rest until he returns," she reminded him, glancing at the shrouded bed. "Right now, I am concerned for you. I see you realize that kingship is not what you imagined."
Loki turned and stepped away, hiding his annoyance at the ease with which she read him. "There…still seems to be resentment that it's not Thor sitting on the throne," he said bitterly. "Most of the warriors at court are more his friends than mine, and even as king they show little respect for me."
Frigga reached out and took his hand, giving it a squeeze of reassurance. "Respect is earned, son," she reminded him. "They cannot help but see you as Thor's little brother. You must give them time. So much has happened so quickly that there has been no chance for them to adjust."
Loki turned to her, marveling at the trust she had in him. He managed a tight smile, then let his eyes wander to his father's body. Odin barely breathed, the only sign of life being the occasional flicker of an eyelash or the movement of a hair on his beard responding to the shallow breath. His eyes narrowed as he thought back to the last words that passed between them.
"Mother…I must know…truly, why was I brought here? I know what you said before…but why did no one ever tell me of my past?" He could only just keep the cascade of pain and anger from surfacing; instead, he gripped the shaft of Gungnir so tightly that the veins of his hands threatened to burst through his skin.
Frigga sighed. "Loki…I cannot answer you completely, since in truth I do not know," she said softly. "What I can tell you is that Odin could not bear to let a child suffer the fate left for you. Very likely he hoped to somehow, some day you could help seal the rift between Jotunheim and Asgard."
"But…there has always been war between Asgard and the Frost Giants. History shows that it's just the way things are. Why care about peace now?"
She was slow to answer. "The war between us is not as easily explained as you might think. The hatred of the Giants is not because of who and what they are, but because of…well, their politics."
She paused, noting his confused look. "The Jotuns once had free use of the Bifrost, just as all members of the Nine Worlds," she went on. "But as they travelled, they concluded that the worlds should be united under a single rule—theirs. They felt that as they were the strongest of the races, everyone should bow to their wishes and adjust the other worlds to their demands. Like the others, Asgard always worked to maintain the independence of the races and had sworn to keep the bridge cleared for peace, not a pathway to endless war. The Jotuns had already invaded two of the Nine Worlds, nearly defeating them but were beaten back with help from most of the others. Once they attacked Midgard, however, all of us decided that they must be stopped for good. After their defeat, use of the bridge was forbidden to them, which is why they remain isolated."
"Why not just eliminate them?"
Frigga touched his cheek. "Because they have as much right to live as the rest of us. They are different, just as all the members of the Nine differ, but their selfish view toward the lives of others is not sufficient reason to see them destroyed."
Loki remained silent for several heartbeats, then gave his mother a light hug. "I do not agree," he said in a low dangerous tone. "But I know that as king I must not indulge my personal passions."
Frigga nodded absently, her attention once again turned to Odin. Loki watched as she resumed her vigil, his thoughts racing. Since it appeared that no one here would be able to give him the answers he needed, another source would have to be found. With a flick of his fingers, he vanished.
It was many breaths later that Loki whisked himself into the king's chamber and leaned against the wall. The afternoon sun was gently bathing the polished fixtures with a cascade of color, and the vision of the city offered a pleasant contrast to the scenes he had recently experienced. Loki remained frozen, staring emptily at the room realized he could never truly call his own, no matter how much time passed.
Thanks to countless quiet visits to the Dark elves of Dvergar, his skill and ability to shift between the realms without using the accustomed travel routes was now second nature. Before, he could teleport from place to place but was still under Heimdall's ever-present gaze. As an earlier visit to Jotunheim proved, he could now escape for a short while without being discovered; he was stealthy enough so that even the great guardian could no longer sense him when he slipped away to any of the other worlds. This allowed him to step into Alefgard-home of the light elves where it was reputed they safeguarded the past of everyone and everything in the Nine Realms—and return before anyone could question his whereabouts.
Though Odin often travelled about Yggdrasill without advanced warning, others would usually show respect by requesting an audience. As a result, Eydis had not expected his arrival, nor did she seem pleased to see him. In the past, whenever a king of Asgard entered a kingdom unannounced, trouble usually followed. But this visit was personal. Once she learned why Loki had come, she felt both relieved and distressed. Eydis tried to talk him out of his quest, but as he was acting sovereign she yielded to his wishes.
As it turned out, the Guardian had been right; it would have been best if he had never known the truth behind his birth. Against his will there were now two images eternally burned onto his memory: the sight of his birth mother's attempt to save his life, and the love of his step-mother when she accepted him without question or hesitation.
The Jotuns will pay.
Loki slowly perched himself on a table edge, eyes unblinking as he idly twisted the king's staff between his fingers. He could feel his soul growing colder with fury and rage; within moments he tore off the horned helmet that defined him to anyone seeing it at a distance and threw it across the stone floor, taking only slight pleasure in the sparks that flew as it came to a stop. Without thinking, he dropped the tip of Gungnir toward the helmet as if to stab it to death-and was startled to see the sparks leap up in fingers of lightning and flame. Stunned, Loki picked up the helmet and threw it again, touching the great spear in the direction of the sparks-and again, the brilliant burst of energy filled the room.
The blaze grew in a steady cascade even after he withdrew Gungnir and stepped away; it was several minutes before the ardent fire wore itself out. As it slowly faded, Loki's thoughts drifted toward another source of power much stronger than that of a clattering helmet. But would it work? And though he was now king, should he make use of such immense power?
Odin had often spoken to both he and Thor of the need for a ruler to make wise use of the authority in his hands; no leader should unleash strength of this magnitude for selfish gain or vengeance. But he was the absolute monarch now. He held the great staff Gungnir, wielding its gifts while still learning about its abilities since fate had thrust the throne of Asgard to him. Even Thor lacked knowledge of what it could do; Loki was now far ahead of his brother with regard to the kingstaff since he was helped by having perfect recall of everything he watched, heard and read. His mind danced with fierce delight as he realized that he could use it in a way even his father did not imagine-but he needed a test to confirm the result he desired.
Forcing himself to walk with the sedate control of a ruler of Asgard, Loki approached the weapons hall with barely contained excitement. He dismissed the guard, telling them only that he would call them when it was time to return. They seemed confused but pleased to have personal time; perhaps having Loki as king wasn't as bad as some thought. When he was certain he was alone, Loki sealed the chamber and stared for several moments at the glowing box at the end of the ramp.
The casket seemed to draw him in, daring him to come closer and again feel the power of his heritage. He resisted the urge to pick it up, to hold it, to fully wield its cold comfort; instead, he brought the tip of Gungnir toward its center.
And in the manner of the ancient enemies that created them, the two items flared up in an age-old hatred as if to begin the conflict again. The casket emitted tendrils of ice to engulf the king's staff, which responded with streaks of lightning and fire to combat the glacial threat. The resultant hybrid was a frozen menace that seared the surface of the walls, split apart the molding of the pedestal, shattered glass nearby and grew like a crystalline plague threatening to enshroud the entire room. Loki's eyes danced with amazement and delight. With great effort he pulled the staff away from the casket, yet the vicious surge continued to spread on its own. His heart skipped for an instant, fearful that his creation would overtake and destroy the entire room and beyond; but the two powers eventually reached a stalemate that ended with the hissing crackle of steam that took them both from the battle.
Loki allowed the potential outcomes and options to drift across his thoughts. This was truly a great weapon, but how could he use it to destroy the Jotuns? While he might get close enough to kill a few—perhaps even Laufey himself-it would not be enough to insure that any threat from the Giants was permanently ended. No, it would take something much more powerful to amplify the strength of these opposites, something that could obliterate all of Jotunheim in a single blow.
Something with the power of the Bifrost.
Loki fell to one knee as his mind twisted around the possibility. He knew that to destroy one of the nine worlds would throw the others into chaos; after all, what was to stop him from doing the same to them? He would need a pretext, a justification to assure them that his reasons were sound and they were not in danger of his wrath.
Of course, the Bifrost guardian would never allow even the king of the realm use the power of the great bridge to destroy another world, since it went against his mandate as well as his honor.
Loki grinned. As always, there was a way around that detail too, he told himself confidently; after all, he was the consummate, unsurpassed master of deception. And rather than eliminate his sire as he sat on his frozen throne, Loki suddenly thought of a way to get the king of the Jotuns here to Asgard-where he was much more vulnerable, could more easily be destroyed, and the entire race hated of enemies would be eradicated forever.
He would be the last of the Frost Giants. How ironic, he mused as his heart burned with a frozen vehemence, that the child they had worked to destroy with such cruelty would not only be the hand of their demise but would be all that remained of their species…
He laughed aloud; the irony was too much. Looking around, he knew would need to come up with a plausible story for the damage done to the weapons chamber, but that was of small concern. Before he stepped toward the door, he had already formed the plan that would solidify his throne and gain the fear if not respect of others, even if the impossible happened and his brother somehow managed to return home.