He was a king; or a should be king. King of Asgard, King of the Nine Realms. And now he was falling.
The everlasting void seemed to consume him whole. Power swarmed around him. Loki could feel himself getting stronger, yet his mind and his will was getting weaker.
He was betrayed. Betrayed by his own father, brother, and his so-called friends. And now he understood why. Why he would never really be king, why he was never loved equally to his brother, Thor, and why he was so different from the other Aesir. It was all for one simple reason: he was a Frost Giant.
He was a monster. The one mothers told their children to fear. And because of that he was never really a part of that society. His 'father', Odin, had used him. He was nothing more than a tool waiting to be used. No matter how hard Loki tried, it was never enough for Odin. Loki had almost destroyed Jotunheim. And he did it naught for himself; he did it for all of them. He could have done it, if Thor would have stayed banished.
Thor, it seemed, had changed drastically on his three days on Midgard. How? Loki would never know. The Midgardians were simple, dull creatures. The ones Thor hung about were overly so. It made no sense whatsoever.
Well, none of this mattered now. Not while he was falling to Norns know where. If he was even falling to anywhere at all. Maybe this was some deep abyss never to end at all. He didn't even know how long he had been falling.
One thing he did know: if this void did end, he would be king once more.
