Thanks to everyone who read, fav'd, alerted and to ThoseEvilDucks, Mari Clair Roemajji Celts, sarahmichellegellarfan1 and guest "Scarlett" (Did you just make up fanfiction about my fanfiction :P? Maybe you should write your own story some time! Also - "until I finished it"; we have just reached the midway point ;) ) for reviewing!

(Also, guest "Chloe" reviewed the chapter before last - and, darling, I might even agree with you, but that line about Thor being cruel is from the original film (I even rewatched the scene to confirm that I hadn't made it up), so there's that ;) Otherwise thanks for your review!)

I won't keep you any longer, on to the chapter!

Long Live the King

The lights in my father's chambers were dimmed. The faces of the Einherjar guiding me inside appeared even more sullen and gloomy in the light. None of them had spoken even a single word to me, each perhaps equally trapped in the seriousness of the situation.

The bed was central to the room now and it was covered in gold, spinning light. It did not shine, though. If anything, it seemed to suck every other bit of light from its surroundings.
Father lay on it, covered with pelts and blankets. His face was stern and grave as ever and his hands were folded above his chest. He looked more dead than asleep.
Mother sat at his side, watching intently while her hands smoothed out the sheets. She looked up when she heard me approach and a soft, mournful smile spread on her lips.

I did not return it. I sat down at her side silently and watched my hands glowing dimly when I, too, reached into the barrier to touch my father. His hands were clammy, but still held some warmth. Even though he did not look it, his heart was beating.

"We know the truth," I said when my mother remained quiet. "About Loki."

Her breath caught, but I did not look to see the expression on her face. I did not want to see her fear or her shame or her sympathy. Forgotten was the idea of comfort - on my way here, something had shifted inside me. Perhaps the distance from Loki had allowed me to push away the gentle need for sympathy and become angry instead.

Whatever it was, I did not want to forgive my mother just yet. So I kept my eyes fixed on the wrinkles deeply embedded in my father's face.

"Where is he?" she asked finally.

"I left him in his chambers," I answered. "He's not faring too well."

She shifted beside me and it took her a few moments to make an answer. "I was wondering - they were in the Vault together - Loki and your father and... Is he very angry?"

I had to clench my teeth so hard it hurt in order not to snap at her immediately. Yes, Loki was very angry and sad and lost and just generally upset - just as anyone would be that had just found that their whole life was a lie. How very good that she had been wondering.
I was itching to hit her, to scratch at her, to just make it hurt - give her just a tiny taste of what she had done to Loki, who she had always claimed to love.

Did she really? I could not tell truth from lie anymore. Perhaps I had never been able to and perhaps I should have never put such trust in my mother.

"What do you think?" I ground out. "All our lives you have taught us how Frost Giants are monsters, the evilest of the evil and-"

"Loki's not like that!"

Her interruption drew my eyes to her for the first time. She appeared genuinely offended by my words and her eyebrows drew together to that scolding look I knew all too well.

"I know that," I said pointedly before she could dare to lecture me. "But you still made him grow up with this belief about his own race - about himself! You could have told him from the beginning - you could have told all of us, instead of making us live a lie!"

I had half a mind to tell her the whole truth, about me, about Loki, about everything we had done together. Maybe then she would understand the depth of what they had done to us, the pain that they had caused us - a completely unnecessary pain, as it turned out.

The words did not leave my mouth. It would cause all of us more pain than it would do us good, right in that moment, though I no longer had doubt that we would tell her one day.
Preferably soon, for I did not want to keep any more secrets that did not need to be kept. I was done cowering in fear in front of our parents, who had so obviously failed in every aspect that mattered.

"Your father thought it best to keep it from him," Mother attempted to explain, "For his own safety-"

"Did you ever think," I bit back. "That he might be wrong? That the mighty Odin could err? Or are you so blinded by throne and scepter that you cannot see?"

Mother sat up straighter, clearly in an effort to regain some of her authority. "Careful how you proceed," she said. "He can still hear you."

"So he shall," I retorted. "I would say it all even if he was awake."

She shook her head at me, disappointment clearly written on her features. It made me clench my fists tightly. How dare she look at me this way when I was in the right?
"We only ever wanted what was best for you!" she argued. "Especially your father!"

It was as if someone had lifted the veil and for the first time, I could see clearly. I had spent all my life firmly believing in the wisdom of my parents - and while my father's decision often made me sad and angry, I had never doubted that he did indeed do what was right. Until Thor's coronation, that was, though even then I had thought that perhaps there was some deep knowledge, some long-standing plan that he sought to execute.

The truth was quite different. Odin did not want what was best for his children or he would never have acted the way he had. My mother, it turned out, was just as fallible as anyone else. Her blind faith in the king had made me believe the same, but I had been wrong.
I did not know if Odin was a good king - I had never lived under another, had no comparison. It was easy to determine though, that he was not a good father. I did not need to know another to understand that.

Most importantly, I was tired of bowing to his decisions and denying both my own mind and heart.

"Our happiness and comfort were never his concern!" I said, surprised myself by the loud sound of my voice. "Nor yours, when it did not suit you! I did not even dare tell you how much I disliked Kvass, because I knew it would not matter, but only serve to make Father angry! No more. From now on, I will only believe myself and I certainly won't take your orders anymore."

Her eyes narrowed at me. "He is still your king and your father."

"He's also asleep - when will he wake?" I asked. "And who takes his place while he rests? You? With all the lies you've spun, I certainly won't bow to you. Thor's gone - who will it be? Are you putting the Frost Giant or the daughter on the throne?"

She did not need to articulate her answer. The look she gave me was more than enough. Not that I had ever truly thought I would ever be considered - not that I had ever had any desire to rule - but in the light of everything, it still stung. Loki was in no position to take the throne right now, distraught as he was, but sure - the little girl was an even worse option.

I got up and had almost reached the doors when she called out to me again. "I think you'd be an excellent queen," Mother said without raising her voice. I froze with my hand on the door handle. "But I also think Loki will be an excellent king. How do you expect me to choose?"

I took a deep breath. "I expect you to make the right choice for your children," I answered. "Just once."

It was hard to say how long I walked, but it seemed to me that I walked every hallway of the palace, every little trail in the gardens, every row of the library before I dared return to the world of the living.
Loki's emotions had shifted between despair and anger for a long while, but then a sudden surge of pride and triumph had took him. I assumed he had learnt that he was to rule while Odin was asleep.

At any other given time, I would have congratulated him. I had always thought that Loki could be a great king, a much better one than Thor would ever be.
Right now, though, he was a mess of flailing emotions and such was no time to hand him great responsibility. Even if they did not want to hand it to me - and perhaps I did understand, I had never been raised to rule - putting all this power in Loki's hands was not a wise decision.

It was instinctual to find him, and I did so in the throne room. He was sprawled on the throne, his long legs thrown over the arm rest, Gugnir draped lazily at the side.
I could only imagine what others would see when they looked upon him, but to me, he did not seem happy. His heart was still as heavy as it had been all day. Yet when he saw me, his face lightened up and a grin spread on his face.

I stopped in front of the steps leading up to him and inclined my head. "My king," I said.

He uttered a laugh at my mockery. Loki swung his legs back around and sat properly, squaring his shoulders for full effect. His eyes were gleaming with mischief.
"Don't you think this suits me?" he asked.

"I do." I had always considered Loki to be more impressive and more intimidating than others gave him credit for. He was especially more intimidating than Thor. I had always assumed it would serve him well, one day, but seeing the result in front of me now was more frightening than I had imagined.
"Loki, are you all right?"

"Of course." The answer came so swiftly that it had to be a lie. "Mother says you are very upset with her."

I pursed my lips at that. "I am very upset in general," I answered.

His eyebrows rose. "There's no need to be angry on my behalf," he said softly. The sadness creeped into him again.

"Who else will be?" I asked. "Angry, I mean - you clearly don't have the time and no one else cares enough. I want to be angry on your behalf, outraged and furious, because what happened to you is terrible and I don't want it to be forgotten or brushed over. I don't want it swiped under the carpet as if nothing had ever happened."

He took me in from head to toe as if he saw me for the very first time. His eyes shone when they finally met mine again. The rush of affection I felt could only indicate his own emotions - and when he calmed with it, I did as well.

"Perhaps now is not the time," he said, gesturing to the empty throne room. "With Father asleep and Thor gone, but I promise you this will not be forgotten."

I could not help but think that the longer he waited, the more terrible his wrath would be. Loki was one who plotted and planned, elaborately and beautifully. When he wanted disaster, he got it.

"So we'll wait, then?" I asked. "We just go back to normal?"

"Is that a problem?"

Loki swept down the stairs and gathered my hands in his. They were unnaturally warm. For a moment, I thought my perception had changed, now that I expected something much colder, but that could not be it. Loki had always felt cool to the touch and now it was as if he was burning. My eyebrows pulled tight together as I looked up to him.

He did not need me to speak to understand my confusion. "A simple spell," he explained. "I don't want you to get hurt again."

"You've never hurt me before and I am not afraid," I said. "Lift it - it must cost so much strength."

His reaction was no more than a gentle twinge inside him. It was not quite what I had thought it would be. Instead, he lifted one of his hands and gently traced his knuckles over my cheek.

"Luckily," he said. "I have my own power-source right here."

He probably did not mean it as an insult, but his words still stung. For a single terrible moment, it seemed as if everything had been a lie. Of course he had only used me so he could grab the additional power, of course he did not actually care about me - the moment was gone as quickly as it had come, but it still left me feeling sick.

I pulled my hands from his grip and took a step backwards. Confusion was written on his features and I felt another pang in my chest at how hurt he looked.

"I'm sorry," I said. "We both had a long day."

I tried to count back and found that despite the late hour, we probably had not yet crossed midnight. It was still Thor's coronation day and the world as we knew had suddenly spiralled out of control. Just a single day and nothing was the same.

"Indeed," he muttered. "We should go to bed. No doubt the first opposition will arrive tomorrow. Sif has been looking at us shrewdly."

Loki sounded tired, but anger swirled in his mind. I did not comment on it - tonight, I felt, was no time for discussion of any sort, much less a fight. Tonight was not the time to defend Sif or any of the others.
I would remain alert, though, and keep an eye out for her tomorrow. I would never consciously work against Loki, would never dream of sabotaging or hurting him but given the situation - I was not sure if it was wise to support him, either.

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