Loki sat on the throne of Asgard, Gungnir in his hand, trying hard to keep the satisfaction that no one knew it was he that wore his father's face.
He made sure to keep up his illusion every second of the day, you never know when someone might turn a corner. It had almost gotten to the point whenever he would drop his guard in front of a mirror, the pale, black haired person who stared back seemed like a stranger. He remembered from growing up what Odin's routines and mannerisms were, from what he liked to eat to how he dealt with the day to day tasks of ruling Asgard and dealing with the other realms.
After Thor had left he felt it would be a good idea to pardon those who helped Thor and the woman Jane escape; which helped him. Plus, Thor seemed sincere when he "died" so it seemed like the thing to do.
Sentiment, and all that.
Loki had taken to walking the gardens in the evening, a new habit he had developed, and one that no one thought suspicious; they were Frigga's gardens after all, and no one could fault a grieving husband to be near a place that meant so much to his wife.
He spent many hours wrestling with the guilt he felt. Guilt that always gnawed at the satisfaction of finally passing Thor and getting rid of the old bastard Odin and overshadowed the glee he felt when the crowds of Asgard praised "his" name and knelt before him.
Guilt was a bitch.
About a week after he started his wanderings through the gardens he had noticed a cat would never be too far behind. He didn't think much about it, the white cat with one green and one blue eye; strays were all over Asgard, and the palace kept a few to control the rodent population, but this cat acted strangely.
Whenever he would sit on the stone benches the cat would promptly sit next to him, looking at him expectantly, once in a while he thought the cat was looking into his very soul; like she knew he was not who he appeared to be.
"What do you want cat?" He asked finally one day, after he sat down, tired after a long day in the throne room.
The cat simply looked at him with her mismatched eyes.
"My mother always knew cats were smart." He whispered in case anyone was close; the cat began to purr.
"I miss her so much." He found himself saying, then immediately wondering why in hell he was talking to a cat, but it was almost like he knew the cat understood what he was saying.
"What if…what if it was my fault? I told that thing where to go…I didn't think about her…I could only think of the creature killing Thor or Odin or if I was lucky both." The words rushed out of his mouth, as the cat inched closer.
"How could she ever forgive me? How could I have done that to her?" Loki felt his eyes begin to burn, and his magic waiver but he didn't care. He never let the guilt become more than a mere annoyance, an emotion he could ignore but he was, a second from dropping his illusion and bawling like a baby.
The cat purred louder and crawled gently into his lap, rubbing her face on his chest and face.
Loki gasped as he felt his magic drop and knew if he looked in a mirror who would be staring back at him. The cat stopped her movements and looked up at him expectantly and gave him a soft meow. There was something in those mismatched eyes…something all too familiar, and something he never thought he would see again.
And in that moment, he wouldn't give a damn if anyone saw Loki, Adopted Son of Odin, sitting in the gardens of Asgard holding a white cat in his arms.
