To Break a Prince
Asgard
July 2009, Midgardian calendar
He stared up at his brother and his father and a thousand emotions boiled inside his mind until he thought he would explode.
“I could have done it, Father!” he screamed. “I could have done it for you! For all of us!”
If he could just make them understand. If he could just make them see that he’d been trying to fix the world so they would all see the truth as he did, see how they’d marginalized and disrespected him for centuries until even a prince of Asgard could be mocked by a servant. He had to make them see that he’d never meant for Thor to go to Jotunheim, or be exiled, or to die; he’d just adapted when his plans to prove himself a good son and a good ruler spiraled wildly out of control.
And then Loki had found out that he was a Jotun, and there was the other half of his turmoil. Betrayal; grief; loss; fear; shame; and all of it was overshadowed by a vast and unending rage.
It was the first time in centuries that he let all of this show on his face, the wild emotions mixing into a volatile cocktail of desperation.
“No, Loki,” Odin said, as unmovable as Yggdrasil.
The false prince loosened his fingers.
Thor’s scream followed Loki down into the abyss.
Deep Space
Not Long After
Loki didn’t know how far he’d fallen, only that it had seemed an eternity compressed into a heartbeat then expanded to fill the universe. As if time ceased to be.
And now here he was, coughing up blood as he lay on his back on some barren rock in a corner of the universe, somewhere in the dark spaces between the realms, where even Asgard rarely ventured.
“Impressive. They really do make them strong on Asgard. Or should I say Jotunheim?” The words were accompanied by a cruel, gravelly laugh.
Loki forced himself to sit up, turn, and stand. His head spun. He wasn’t dead - how in the Nine Realms had that happened?
But he was nothing if not good at improvising, and he was heir to two thrones. He would meet this twist in the Norns’ design with dignity, as befitted a prince.
Or a king.
The creature who looked back at him was nothing Loki had ever seen. Humanoid, with pitted purplish skin and fiery, luminous eyes. It wasn’t a good light, though. The gleam in the thing’s irises as he peered out from behind an ornate gold helm was one of pure, undiluted madness.
“Give me your name,” Loki demanded, drawing himself upright. His entire body was screaming but he ignored it. He’d definitely been in worse shape before in his immortal life, although he couldn’t remember exactly when at the moment.
The creature snorted. “Look at the little princeling, thinking to give me orders.”
“I am Loki Laufeyson of Jotunheim,” Loki snarled, “heir to the thrones of both the Frost Giants and the Aesir. You will give me your name, and the respect owed to a king.”
“Oh, the arrogance! How it betrays you, son of Laufey.” The creature stood, and a dark, perverted power rolled through across the bitter surface of whatever odd half-realm they inhabited. It wasn’t anything but an asteroid, really, and it spun: Loki could see the stars wheeling by in the distance, constellations unknown. Yet there was atmosphere, and gravity.
He’d read something about this phenomenon, once…
“I am Thanos.” The creature descended from his floating throne and glared into Loki’s eyes. “And I will give you no such courtesy. You see…”
He spun and threw out an arm as the asteroid’s rotation slowly brought their surroundings into view.
Loki fought to keep his breath even. It was an army, of creatures such as he’d only hear of: the Chitauri, cannibalistic humanoids with a connected neural system, and it was massive.
“I also hold a throne,” Thanos finished, sneering. That strange power surged, pulsed, and reached for the prince’s mind.
Loki threw every scrap of his seidr into a barrier. He was one of the most powerful seidr masters in the Nine Realms; he could match this foul thing-
But he was weak from his battle with Thor, and from his fall through the worlds, and in the end, it was not enough.