...
"What?!" Loki snarls in the direction of the fallen washing bowl. The metal bowl had acted like a drum and clattered with unholy noise on the stone floor. Lyra could be very clumsy, and he wasn't sure if her actions were accidental or not. He had just been about to inform Thor of his suspicions. Though 'suspicions' was a strong word, he had little but the fact his magic wasn't responding as it should and some gut feelings.
"My apologies my Prince." The woman curtsied and avoided his gaze. "My King, I mean." She corrected and bent down to mop up the spilled water.
"Well take better care in the future!" He snapped at her, though he was more worried about the fact that a servant had entered his room and had, by the looks of it, delivered a very fragrant meal, without him noticing. He must have let her in, there was no way to enter his chambers without his permission, and the idea that he had done so while simultaneously in conversation with his fool of a brother was disturbing.
"Yes my Lord". She curtsied again and slipped from the room. Loki shook his head in annoyance and walked over to the tray of food. Just as he was chewing his first bite, someone knocked on his door. Kill them. A voice inside his head said gleefully. Loki gulped down the goblet of wine.
"Mother." He greeted when he opened the door. Frigga looked sad and drawn. A vague sense of embarrassment slid through him, knowing what he did now. Not your mother. Something dark and dead inside him whispered gleefully.
"Loki." Frigga cupped his cheek. "They are waiting for you. My son. My King." He wondered how much she knew, Loki absentmindedly picked at his left wrist. But the Queen-mother looked weary, tired and burdened. He could wait Loki decided, he had waited a long time already.
"Yes." He bowed slightly and wished he could embrace his mother. He gave the meal a last saddened look and went to meet the council. Loki, King of Asgard. Someone somewhere was laughing, Loki just knew it.
...
But it wasn't him. For the love of Mercy, he was surrounded by idiots. The combination of sheer stupidity and pretense was more tiresome than a full day battle against a nest of Bilgesnipe. It doesn't help that he is regarded with suspicion and distaste. Crush them. Light them up. The voice whispers. He doesn't, but oh Norns, he wants to. Instead he begs them to leave him, concluding the Council meeting. And, if there is any benefit to being King, they do.
He sags unto the throne and twirls Gungnir like a baton. The Spear of Destiny. Loki moves it from hand to hand with abject interest. Not his favourite weapon, a spear. If Thor was less of an idiot would there now be a Hammer of Destiny? Loki wonders. His thoughts are bounding all over. There is something he should remember, Loki thinks. Something he should know. But he doesn't, and in response his thoughts flit from one subject to the next, getting progressively more ridiculous.
The Throwing Knives of Destiny. It doesn't quite have the phallic connotation, another voice of memory mentions, amused. Loki can feel his lips twitch, even though the frustration mounts. What is it? Damn it all, what should he know? He can feel some sort of power press about him. If he had but some peace to figure it out, but he is constantly needed, this time by the Warriors Three.
"Allfather, we must speak with you!" Sif announces as the four of them stride into the room. He can see them freeze with shock and Sif narrows her eyes in suspicion. He sneers, internally he hopes. He remembered having a cordial relationship with the woman warrior once, though he can't place it in history. Whenever it was, she hates him now.
"Loki." Sif breathes. "What?"
"The Alfather sleeps." He repeats the words he said to Thor. He waves Gungnir and prays to the Norns they need no further explanation. He should test everyone for intelligence and common sense before giving them any position at court Loki thinks. Thankfully the warriors do understand and kneel as one. A warrior's salute, it is not half as satisfying as Loki hoped it would be.
"My King." Sif grinds. Look at her kneel. The dark voice then speaks. You're King now, make her – the voice suggest something so revolting it startles Loki, more so even than the suggestion that he gut some Duke of the Southern Provinces and string him up with his own intestine. "We ask-"
"Thor's banishment has been lifted." He interrupts her. He should have seen this coming; he should have prepared a suitable lie. But he is now faced with Thor's friends and has nothing but the truth to offer them. The warriors share looks of surprise and turn to the entrance of the throne room. As if Thor were to suddenly appear now. Fools. The voice sneers.
"Thor is better located on Midgard as of now." Frowns of deep thought show on the warriors' faces. Dimwitted simpletons. Sif narrows her eyes at him once more and hikes her chin up with a defiant glare.
"So we may see him?" She dares him. Loki glares back at her. A private glare. It is odd to have a woman who once held your heart (and other delicate body parts) in her hands, now sworn to obey you.
"If you must." Loki relents. "But be aware we set off to Jotunheim in two days' time. As well as the Dwarven delegation arrives in a week." He reminds them, much to do for a warrior of the Realm. He knows not why, but it is important Thor stays on Midgard, and he can predict nothing but trouble if the Warriors Three tramp all over the Middle Realm. The Warriors and even Sif sag.
"Thor may be mortal now, but he will keep a month or so." Loki tries for comfort, it is hardly his strong suit.
"You have spoken to him." Fandral realises and Loki nods. He is once more distracted, a strong magical pressure follows him. It is not the same thing as the dark voice with the frankly disturbing suggestions, but it's something.
"How is he?" Volstagg asks and Loki has to focus his attention on the Warriors again. Loki ponders; how is Thor? He had seemed utterly defeated in the end and the voice had suggested many cruel things Loki could do to his brother (no, not brother. Half-brother? Complete stranger? Had Thor known? Loki doubted it) now that Thor was powerless and Loki felt more powerful he had ever before.
"As well as can be expected." Loki says, truthfully and watches as the Warriors slink away. The magic swirls around the Warriors' limbs like a lover's touch, but doesn't follow them and returns to Loki. Damn it all to Hel, what is it?! What does it want? Loki wishes to lock himself in the library and research this. But others once more vie for his attention.
...
Later that night, or better, very early the next morning Loki wakes in terror. His heart pounds, his muscles are taught and his breath laboured. The fear is almost solid to the touch and quite nearly nauseating, but Loki cannot remember his dream, for that is what it must have been. Loki cannot remember having ever actually been this afraid before, but in his dreams he remembers.
Loki looks down at his hands and realises that he holds a dagger. Looking around the low light he also sees the shimmer of a magical barrier surrounding his bed and a roaring, magical fire in the hearth. None of that was present when he went to bed. Unconscious magic, which is unlikely to the point of impossibility. He has never heard of anyone anywhere doing such complicated spell work as the ward surrounding his bed while asleep. Not even in the myths.
The dream forgotten, the fear is dissipating quickly, followed by a deep-set worry. In the past few days he has managed to sabotage a coronation, incite a war, get his brother killed (slowly over the course of some decades, but still) and also possibly his father, discovered his life is a lie, become king, be hounded by an unknown force and have his magic fly out of control. Things are going splendidly, really. Loki is no stranger to losing control of a situation, but this is getting ridiculous.
He is also quite hungry he thinks, his thoughts once more running away from him. Every time at dinner when he was about to bring a bite to his mouth some courtier or noble just had to ask him some inane question. His decision to visit Jotunheim in attempt to prevent another war is being quite heavily frowned upon. Many disagree, and in all honesty Loki doesn't quite understand himself.
He has no love for the Jotnar and if he were honest he could see them all burn (or would that be melt, he wonders distractedly) and walk away. But something, the same thing that has him leave Thor on Midgard (if not for the Something, he would haul Thor back to Asgard to sit on the throne while Loki investigates this phenomenon, hammer or no hammer), tells him the Jotnar are needed. Asgard needs as many allies as it can get, Loki is sure of it. Still ruling is not nearly as interesting as he hoped it would be.
Then, when he waves the ward away and walks to one of his bookcases, he sees a tray on a side table. It is piled high with food and the cup is still steaming. The worry settles in his bones. He has once again ordered dinner and let in a servant to deliver it to him, without having any memory of this.
Loki slowly curls his left hand in a fist, the one that turned blue. He is, he thinks not without humour, going quite mad it seems.
...
...
"I never wanted to be King, I only ever wanted to be your equal!" As you can probably tell, I really feel that is a core truth within Loki.