The new Allfather did not feel like celebrating, so there was no coronation feast. He also refused to swear to protect Asgard and what remained of the eight realms. „What good has that oath brought the last two people who took it, or anyone else?", he argued.
The people grumbled, but he didn't care. They were stuck with him anyway, for lack of alternatives. And he was stuck on a throne he'd never wanted, with nothing to prove to anyone, tasked to rule people he couldn't care less about.
First things first: clean up his predecessor's mess. Loki refused to think of the unrelated person he had never met as his „younger brother", like the courtiers had called the wretch until he had forbidden it on pain of being muzzled until further notice.
„Bring forth the accused!" It was weird, sitting on the throne once more, ruling these same people or their children.
The woman whom the guards dragged in, her once white dress torn and soiled, heavy chains binding her hands, did her best to walk on her own, but stumbled frequently. „Murderer" hissed the crowd. „Harlot. Witch."
She must once have been of great beauty, by Aesir or Vanir standards: tall, long-legged, ash-blonde hair and sky-blue eyes. Most probably, she'd also been curvacious when the barbarian took her, Loki mused. Only Thor had ever preferred slender, dark-haired women over the standard Asynja appearance. And Sif had never thanked him for his help with that. Oh well, back to the present.
„Nanna Gevarsdóttir" steward Theoric called out, and the now kneeling woman lifted her head, staring blankly ahead. Her nose was crooked, and the left cheekbone had also been broken in the past and wrongly mended, slightly skewing her face.
„ … of Vanaheim. You have been accused of murder in coincidence with regicide, also of treason ..."
„Hold on." his king interrupted. The hall fell silent. „Delete that. The regicide."
His steward swallowed. „Sire, are you saying your … that Lord Balder was not the lawful king at the time this woman ..."
„I'm sure he was, my good man. Odin Allfather – may he rest in peace – made the intended line of succesion abundantly clear, did he not? It's not that. Regicide is not a crime here in Asgard."
Stunned silence.
„Sire?"
Loki sighed. „I need to explain, don't I?" He rose and paced before the throne. „As you may recall, this is my second tenure as king. The first time, I was attacked both by prince Thor and the gatekeeper Heimdall, with the intention to kill at least in the latter case. Was Heimdall ever punished?"
The steward shook his head mutely.
„I thought not. So, by the judgement of Odin Allfather – long may he be remembered – an attack on the ruling king is not a crime. Therefore do delete regicide from the penal code of Asgard! And since regicide is not a crime, this lady can not be tried for killing my predecessor."
The scribes scribbled frantically.
The next round of accusations came down to lady Nanna neglecting her duties as a wife, and several of her kinsmen breaking in and killing palace guards trying to free her.
„Wife. A-ha. The lady consented to the marriage, then?"
„Not … no, sire. It wasn't necessary, sire."
„Her father handed her over, then?"
„Er, no, sire. Lord Balder, in a valiant quest, ..."
At this, the previously kneeling woman staggered to her feet, shaking with rage. The flanking guards held her. „They killed him! That bilgesnipe and his men, they ransacked our farm and dragged me away. They slew my father and brother and dumped their bodies in the well."
„I see. Was Asgard at war with Vanaheim at the time, steward?"
„No, sir, but ..."
„There must have been a legitimate feud between Gevar - Nanna's father - and the house of Odin going on then?"
„My lord, king Balder had made most gracious offers for the lady's hand in marriage, but Gevar the old fool rejected ..."
The woman sobbed.
„A-ha. Scribes, note: Refusing when the king demands a free man's daughter as his bride constitutes grave insult and is just cause for a blood feud. Also, by the ruling of king Balder – be he remembered for his deeds – poisoning wells is no longer an offense."
The assembled courtiers gawked. Many of them were landowners, now wondering what this might lead to, if anyone had a quarrel with a neighbour.
The scribes then named and counted the casualties of the 'feud' and came out about even.
„Very well." king Loki said to the woman who had killed his brother-by-adoption. „Between your family and mine, you killed one of ours and we two of yours, so I owe you one man's worth."
„I want that one." she pointed at the steward.
„Theoric? Why?"
„It was him who struck my father dead, at the bilgesnipe's command."
„I see. He was acting in the service of the crown though, so your claim is against me. I owe you one man's worth as wergild, then our feud is settled. You there, scribe – fetch the money. And then you guards will escort the lady safely to her family's home. I declare this case settled."
The guardsmen led the bedraggled woman away; turning her head, she shot the steward a last hateful look.
„Theoric, by the way," Loki turned to his assistant, „you, too, own some farmland, don't you?"
„Of course, my lord. King Balder graciously bestowed on me a barony in Landviði, where I ..."
„Yes, yes. Very good. Guards! You there and you: Ride to lord Theoric's lands! Take with you some rotten carcasses, and buckets of lead sugar, arsenic or what the alchemists have at hand, and poison all wells, ponds and watering troughs on his farms and pastures. Off now, make haste!"
„My lord?" the steward stammered, shocked.
„Think nothing of it, my good man." his king smiled, patting him on the shoulder. „Just a harmless diversion. I'm sure you understand."
Sif, Hogun and Fandral were brought next, not nearly as tattered, and only lightly chained with handcuffs. Sif was heavily pregnant, and Fandral supported her and talked to her in a low voice. The men knelt. Sif scowled, merely hinting at a curtsy. Well, she had a good excuse.
In the background, an elderly woman won entrance to the hall and sidled to the back wall, dragging a small blond boy by the hand, who, upon seeing the accused, cried „Mother! Father" and tried to break free, unsuccessfully. Sif and Fandral both turned, pained looks upon their faces.
Since the steward had surreptitiously retired – perhaps to salvage as much livestock as yet possible – the king stood and addressed his prisoners. „You have been informed upon arrest that I would hold trial over you for desertion during wartime, and for treason. The former, I think, stands undisputed. You left Asgard on your own account after Laufey had declared war on the realm."
„You were in league with him! We went to protect Thor!" yelled Sif. Fandral tried to shush her.
„Whether I was in league with him or not takes nothing from the fact that you deserted, shieldmaid. Nothing came of it, though, and since Odin Allfather was asleep at the time, I shall assume he knew not and for this reason never passed judgement on you. So I will, now."
Fandral even nodded, resignedly.
„The punishment for desertion is either decapitation, or to be outlawed and exiled to realms beyond Asgard and her allies and protectorates. I understand that currently means Jotunheim only. So, which is it? Hogun?"
„I'll rather be dead than banished in shame."
„So be it. Fandral?"
„Loki – my king. Please know that I'm aware now that I wronged you gravely in the past, and broke the law. I knew that even then. I was a youthful fool then, not thinking about consequences, and I'm sorry. I ask no mercy for myself; gladly I shall die for everything I did. But please, let me serve my wife's sentence also, and allow her to live, for our childrens' sake. You can see she is with child now, majesty ..."
„Yes, yes, of course, her sentence will be postponed until after she'll have given birth. As yours will be postponed also, by the way."
The kneeling warrior struggled to speak, so sursprised was he. „What? Why?"
„You are said to be Odin's kin by his cousin Hoenir, Fandral Fjörgynjarson, are you not? Wasn't that the reason you were brought up in the citadel?"
„Yes, I am, but what has that to do ..."
„As next of kin – by law anyway – I name you my heir, Fandral. So your sentence will be postponed until such time as a next-in-line will come of age."
If jaws could drop to the floor and make a sound ...
„As for the second accusation, that of treason, I have since reconsidered."
The blond warrior blinked, still stunned and disbelieving.
„A charge of treason would be based on your oath of fealty to the king. But it occured to me that oathbreaking is not a crime in Asgard any more since prince Thor swore, at his intended coronation, to preserve the peace, then went and started war with Jotunheim, and was not declared honourless for that. Scribes, note: By the example of Thor Oathbreaker, and Odin Allfather's judgement on the case, all oaths sworn in Asgard are null and void. No oath sworn by any Ás or Asynja anywhere shall ever again be considered valid."
All hell broke loose. Some guardsmen did their best to reign in the crowd, while others joined in the outraged shouting. Throngs of people were trying to storm the dais.
Loki sat on the throne, unperturbed, Gungnir perched against the armrest. Under the din, Hogun murmured something about guards who had said regicide was not a crime any more.
Despite her chains and bulging belly, Sif flew up the stairs, a few guards hot on her heels. Her husband cried „No!", but she did not care. The warrior-woman took the magic spear and pierced her king through the heart. Blinding white light engulfed the figure. She thought he looked surprised. Then the guardsmens' swords hacked her to pieces.
A green mist travelled easily between the realms. It craved nothing. It regretted nothing. All it felt was an abundant love for chaos. Things growing, diversifying, multiplying, whatever direction; dying out again for whatever reason, all things taking whatever turn, until the universe would collapse and extend again in the endless cycle of rebirth.
The green mist whafted over the ruins of Midgard. In the basement of Tønsberg town museum, some hardy cockroaches were feeding on bog bodies, ancient parchments and some newer casualties, despite the radiation.
It touched one of them. "What grace is given me, let it pass to it. Let it be spared. Save it."
The roach glowed green. It would proliferate. Life would prevail. The mist dissolved into nothingness.
In Asgard's throne hall, the riot had ceased. King Fandral sat on the throne, his wife's mutilated corpse across his lap, still crying like a waterfall. Thankfully, they had ushered his firstborn out. A guard approached him, slightly bowed, pointing at Hogun who still stood in chains at the foot of the dais.
The new king slumped down under the weight of his office. Despondently, he whispered: „My first action can not be undoing my predecessor's decrees."