Vega

“I don’t think people love me. They love versions of me I have spun for them, versions of me they have construed in their minds. The easy versions of me, the easy parts of me to love.” —Author Unknown

Loki wanted to be happy for his brother, but he’d not been happy for so long, he didn’t remember how it felt. He forced a smile onto his face, unable to fake the mirth of everyone else. 

Thor’s friends were loud and boisterous filled with joy. 

Loki might have been jealous for he was empty with a steady hollow ache. He could feel Thor’s booming laughter shaking the great hall. 

Thor was victorious, finally worthy of his inheritance. He raised his glass mirrored by the crowd who cheered as they raised their glasses. 

Loki followed mechanically unable to taste the heady mead. 

Thor drank greedily, taking a moment to observe those around him. His father was already drunk. His mother’s pride shone through her eyes. And Loki’s sorrow was palpable even across the hall. Thor did not understand his brother’s sorrow, but it broke his heart.

Around them, glasses were thrown to the floor shattering as celebrators cried out “Another!”

Loki set his barely-touched mead on the table and slipped out of the great hall. He could stand it no longer. Thor would not even notice his absence. He never did. Loki found himself on his balcony. He didn’t cry; he’d cried until his rivers and oceans dried up. He didn’t pray; he no longer believed in the Norns. He didn’t wish; he knew nothing would come of it. Sitting in silence, he stared at the night sky, longing to escape somewhere out there.  

***

The night sky looked down at the young prince as he fled from the confines of the palace. He looked back, a small part of him already missing his mother and brother. 

But if they knew, if they understood why he was running, surely, they would forgive him. 

He knew what would happen if he stayed, and he couldn’t survive it again. If the Norns were with him, no one would even notice he was gone. He didn’t think they had noticed how far he’d drifted. He was barely there anymore. 

His father reveled in it. 

His mother might’ve worried.

His brother was too consumed in himself. 

Loki blinked away tears. He missed his family, but he doubted they would miss him…

***

“Brother!”  Thor’s boisterous voice startled Loki who had lost himself in the stars. 

“You found me.” Loki frowned. Why in the heavens would Thor have left his pleasures for him?

“Your hiding spots haven’t changed. Why did you leave my celebration?” Thor looked like a kicked wolf pup, the familiar image too painful for the young god to bear.

“I needed a moment,” Loki lied, after all, he was the god of lies.

But Thor was the only one who ever saw through his lies. “You are happy for me?”

Loki allowed himself a small smile. “Of course, you will make a good king.” 

Blushing, Thor said so earnestly, “I can only hope to be half the king that father is!”

Loki didn’t say anything to that. 

Odin was not a good king. 

But Thor might be. 

“You are not jealous?” Thor asked, his voice unusually quiet. 

“You are my brother,” Loki said. “I could not be prouder.” 

Thor pulled him into a crushing hug. “I wish you would share your sorrow. I do not understand why you are in such pain.”

Loki sighed but hugged his brother tightly. 

***

Loki preferred this quiet life to the extravagance of court. He didn’t have to be anything here. He wasn’t punished for being here. He simply was. 

The darkness of the forest was endless like cool, deep waters. There was a loveliness in this isolation. 

For the first time in a long time, he felt safe like nothing could touch him.  

He missed his mother and even his brother, but he did not regret his decision. Laying a hand against his rounded belly, he did not regret it at all. He could feel the babe’s seiðr play with his own. It was a strange feeling as Loki had rarely encountered another with seiðr, but he was glad he already had something in common with his child. 

Odin and Thor had that. They were so very similar. 

Frigga loved him, but she didn’t always understand him. 

Loki hoped his child would never feel as lonely as he did like a star without the night.  

*** 

Light flickered into the room. Groaning, Loki would rather stay in bed until he faded from existence than endure his father’s disapproving glare, his mother’s worried expression, and Thor’s oblivious adoration. 

It was painful to have to constantly pretend. 

But pain was all he had left. Fear too. 

He almost smiled as the skittish servants entered his chambers. He’d done his worst to ensure their terror. He sighed disdainfully as he rose from the bed. “Well?”

The servants hurried to undress him and cage him in heavy garments of gold and green. 

Sometimes, Loki wondered what would happen if he dared to wear Thor’s colors. Sometimes, he wished that they would gaze upon him the same way they did at his golden brother. Shaking his head, he focused on what was to come, rather than pointless wishes. Rolling his shoulders back, Loki held himself as a king would, or a warrior before entering a battlefield, to face peril and near-certain death.

The short distance between his changers and the great hall was like a death march. 

Loki took some comfort that it was just a family gathering and not a feast. He sat beside Thor, staring at the food laid out. 

The servants served the usual fare, a spread of mugs of milk, bowls of hazelnuts and oats, and large golden eggs. 

Thor was already ravaging a turkey leg and what looked like a whole seabird. 

Loki had little appetite, every forkful tasted like ash and felt like a lead weight on his stomach.

Odin was lecturing, explaining how the coronation ceremony would commence. There were traditions on where they would stand, kneel, and say. 

Loki barely paid any attention. He’d heard it often enough as Odin had been preparing them for Thor’s coronation since they were children. He was much more interested in something else, but he had not yet mustered up the courage to request it of his father… 

Thor, however, had more than enough courage for both of them. “Father, I shall travel to Vanaheimr once I am crowned.” It was phrased in the affirmative, rather than as a question.

Odin turned his eye on Thor, a rare smile on his lips. “Wise decision, my son. A new king needs to establish his reign and have a strong presence in all his territories.”

This was as good an opportunity as any for Loki to try. “Father, if I may interject,” he said quietly.

The Aldafaðr’s gaze, so cold and calculating so unlike the one he gave his oldest son, turned to him. 

Loki did not waver as a child, he might have wept at the injustice, but as a man, he would rage against it, if only he could.  “I wish to accompany Thor to Vanaheimr. Their library is renowned throughout the Nine Realms and open to all who wish to further advance their study of seiðr.”

Odin’s face hardened. “It is unbecoming for a warrior to study seiðr. You have sullied yourself; you’ll not dishonour our family further.”

Loki bit his tongue until the urge to scream went away. “Indeed, Father,” he said dully.

Thor dropped his turkey leg and frowned at his plate. 

Frigga glared at Odin and refused to talk to him for the rest of their meal. Her support improved Loki’s mood, if only marginally.

He should have known that the Aldafaðr would refuse him. He always did, but somehow, Loki still hoped...

***

Thor often demanded that Loki play pretend and dress up with him. He never took no for an answer, and even though Loki knew better, he loved nothing more than playing with his older brother. 

“We shall be kings,” Thor said. “And we’ll conquer our enemies and drink their blood!”

Loki’s nose wrinkled. “That’s disgusting!”

Thor laughed uproariously. “That is what kings do!”

Loki shrugged. “There can’t be two kings of Asgard. I’ll be your advisor.”

Thor shook his head. “No, you’re a prince. You have to be a king.” He placed his own crown on Loki’s head. “Now your clothes…”

Loki looked down at his small, green tunic. “Nothing’s wrong with my a-attire.”

“No, but it’s not kingly. A king’s colors are red, blue, and purple!” Thor pulled Loki into his closet. “Pick something else.”

“T-Thor, I’m not sure…” Loki sighed. He didn’t like wearing green all the time. He didn’t understand why he wasn’t allowed more colors… 

“What about this?” Thor chose a blue tunic. “I never wear this anymore because I only wear red.”

Loki was tempted. The material was so soft, and there was something about the color that was almost familiar. Unable to resist, he took off his stiff, green tunic and put on Thor’s soft, blue tunic. It was much too big, falling around his ankles, but Loki loved it. 

“You look, you look pretty.” Thor decided. 

Blushing, Loki wished Thor was always like this. He didn’t understand why Thor treated him differently when they were with his friends. 

“Let’s play!” Thor grabbed his hand, dragging him toward his toy chest. He pulled out a toy Mjölnir. 

Loki picked a stuffed Dreki and hugged it to his chest. 

“Is the Dreki evil?” Thor asked. 

“No,” Loki said. 

“We need to fight something.” Thor thought for a moment. “Frost Giants!”

Loki sighed. “We always fight Frost Giants.”

“They’re evil! Everyone knows that!” Thor grinned. “We’ll fight them just like Father!”

“I’ve got an idea,” Loki said. He closed his eyes and suddenly an illusion of a blue giant towered over them. He was still learning how to control his seiðr. 

Thor laughed, charging toward the monster with his mighty hammer. 

“Thor, wait!” Loki yelled, but it was too late as Thor crashed against a pillar, toppling it over. Their mother’s vase shattered to pieces. 

“Loki!” The Aldafaðr’s thundering voice filled Loki with fear. “What’s the meaning of this?”

“We were just playing,” Thor said. “It was an accident. It was my fault.”

“A king never takes the blame.” Odin reprimanded Thor gently. “Now, you will tell me the truth and no more lies.” 

“M-My fault,” Loki lied. 

“You’ll go to the nursery and await your punishment. You will not join us for the feast,” The Aldafaðr ordered. His eyes narrowed as he noticed what Loki was wearing and the toy clasped to his chest. “You’ve stolen from your brother as well.”

“I gave those to him,” Thor interrupted. “We both broke the vase! It’s not fair that he’s the only one punished.”

***

“Gungnir.” Odin held out his spear for all to see. “Its aim is true, its power strong. With it, I have defended Asgard and the lives of the innocent across the Nine Realms since the time of the Great Beginning. And though the day has come for a new king to wield his own weapon—that duty remains the same. Thor Odinson, my heir, my firstborn. So, long entrusted with this mighty hammer Mjölnir, forged in the heart of a dying star, from the sacred metal of Uru. Its power has no equal—as a weapon, to destroy, or as a tool, to build. Only one may lift it. Only one is worthy. Only one will be king.”

Thor looked positively regal in his gold and red robes. He knelt before their father, looking surprisingly somber. 

“Today, I entrust you with the greatest honour in all the Nine Realms. The sacred throne of Asgard. I have sacrificed much to achieve peace. So, too, must a new generation sacrifice to maintain that peace. Responsibility, duty, honour. These are not merely virtues to which we must aspire. They are essential to every soldier and to every king.”

Loki wasn’t surprised that the coronation was dreadfully boring, most royal customs were. He couldn’t bring himself to pay attention. He didn’t have the energy to care. 

“Thor Odinson, do you swear to guard the Nine Realms?” Odin asked. 

“I swear,” Thor replied. 

“Do you swear to preserve the peace?” Odin asked. 

“I swear,” Thor answered. 

“Do you swear to cast aside all selfish ambition and pledge yourself only to the good of all the Realms?” Odin asked. 

Thor smiled. “I swear.” 

“Then on this day, I, Odin Aldafaðr, proclaim you—” Odin hesitated, perhaps, he was struggling to give his power away at long last.

Loki frowned as a familiar cold crept into the room. 

And then they were attacked.

***

Loki knew what to expect this time. He was not afraid, and he supposed that it was easier the second time, but just as painful. Screaming, he brought his son into the world. 

His son was a wolf pup with bright green eyes.

Loki was exhausted, but he cleaned his baby and swaddled him, cradling him close. “You are Fenrir Lokison.” 

Fen pressed close seeking warmth and sustenance. 

Loki offered both freely. 

For a few days, Loki was blessed with his son Fenrir or Fen as Loki liked to call him. He’d not known that he could be this happy, and he should have known better because the Aldafaðr found them. Loki fought this time. He was not recovering from labor; he was a wolf defending her pup. But he wasn’t strong enough.

In that aspect, Fenrir was worse than Hel. He had days with Fen, but he’d never gotten even a glimpse of Hel.

***

Fear is a funny thing when you’ve been afraid your entire life. Staring up at his father, Loki wasn’t afraid anymore. He should have been afraid, but he was burning with glorious rage. 

Of course, the Aldafaðr would find a way to turn the blame on him. 

Loki was a false son, a false brother.  

The accusation they spat at him wasn’t unexpected, but that didn’t lessen the sting. He could almost hear the people of Asgard like snakes with venom dripping from their mouths curling and constricting around him with cruel, mocking words. All his life, he’d been regarded with hate and suspicion. 

Asgard had never been sympathetic to their unwanted prince. 

Loki shouldn’t have been so surprised that his family turned on him so easily. 

He shouldn’t have cared that his father had finally gotten what he wanted, everyone saw him for the monster he really was. He shouldn’t have cared that his mother finally turned her back on him, not even she could love him now. He shouldn’t have cared that Thor could believe the worst of him, that he could fight for strangers but not his own brother. He shouldn’t have cared, but he couldn’t not care. This final betrayal cut too deep.

Monsters don’t have families or love, that’s how they become monsters. 

Hardening his heart even further, he gave them the villain they wanted. “Aren’t you proud of me, Father?” He mocked, lips stretching over his teeth in a truly horrible smile.

There was something almost gleeful in Odin’s expression. “You have no father. And you never did.”

Something inside him broke. Was it the dam that held all the pain, all the madness at bay? Opening his mouth, all that came out was unceasing, shrill laughter.

In the end, Loki’s fall from grace was quite literal.

***

Nights seemed darker with the tiniest mote of stars littered throughout the sky. His soul was bruised and empty. The constellation Canis Major seemed to mock him, a serious reminder of what he’d lost. After losing his second child, Loki refused to venture out of the confines of his chambers. He’d refused to see his mother or his brother.

But his seiðr was not strong enough to keep his mother out. 

Frigga slipped into his room like mist, so quiet she didn’t wake her sleeping child. Through their seiðr, she could feel his pain and grief. Such darkness she’d not felt since… Sighing,  she sat beside him, running her hands through his soft hair. 

Loki whimpered in his sleep. 

The temperature in his chambers seemed to drop, something he’d not done since he was a babe. Shaking him gently, she roused him from his uneasy slumber. “Son minn (My son), tell me what is wrong. I’ve not seen you for half a fortnight, not since returning from your escapade.”

Loki was weakness itself as he pressed against his mother seeking comfort and warmth. He frowned not understanding where “escapade” had come from, but then he realized that Odin would have had to tell his mother and brother something. 

“Darling, tell me. You can tell me anything,” Frigga begged. 

But Loki couldn’t. He couldn’t explain himself; he truly couldn’t. What would become of him, if he dared? 

Death seemed far too kind a punishment from the Aldafaðr. 

He couldn’t risk it, even if he had little left to live for. He needn’t test him, his no doubt-accursed creativity…

“Tis simply a passing mood,” he lied, but his heart wasn’t into it. 

Frigga could see right through him. 

When her frown deepened, Loki regretted lying, but what else could he do? He could only hide, even if that meant hiding from her. He could adjust his behavior, pretending all was well, for her sake, and even for Thor’s sake. 

They could not know. They could never know. Surely, they couldn’t love him if they knew…

Even as she embraced him, fingers running gently through his hair, Loki felt alone, amidst ghosts.

Frigga’s heart was heavy as she closed the door behind her, leaving her youngest to his pain. She leaned against the door, pausing to whisper a prayer to the Norns. Her face remained a mask as she walked to her own chambers, only safely within, did she allow herself the right to weep. 

When she realized that Loki was gone, Odin had assured her worries with tales of Loki’s travels. 

“He is simply doing as boys his age are wont to do.” Odin had seemed so sure, and Frigga had believed him. 

But now, she knew without a doubt that he lied. 

Her darling boy had seemed wan, fatigued, and nearly ill. There was a sorrow in his eyes, an ache that no one, and especially not a youth, should carry. 

She didn’t know what had taken place, but she swore she would find out. And if, with the passage of time, she seemed less and less willing to play along with the Allfather’s schemes, and even less so to speak with him privately or entertain his notions of a loving marriage, who was to say that this was the cause?