Chapter 3
ASGARD
Loki took his time, silently fussing at the formal armor that he would wear every day as Asgard’s king. King.
In his mind he replayed his return from death on Svartalfheim. Hela had kept her word, his body his own, and he’d used it to travel to Asgard under disguise. After Odin had fallen into sleep, it was only a matter of time before Thor had appeared. His brother was predictable as ever, denying his right to the throne in favor of returning to Midgard to play. Loki could admit he was more than slightly pleased Thor abdicated to him, as he sat on Odin’s throne wearing Odin’s face. He smirked grimly at the memory.
That farce in the throne room of just a few days ago had been for Asgard’s benefit. Asgard needed a king so he had arranged that little drama so he could be a king the golden realm would accept. An illusion of Odin had sat on his throne when in reality the real Odin had died just that morning. Loki had of course played his part to the hilt, using magic and illusion so that court would witness a melodramatic version of the passing of a crown. He’d made certain Thor’s little merry band of tag-a-longs had been there so they couldn’t dispute it later. A quick teleport and Odin’s true body was placed where the illusion had fallen, just in time for Eir to pronounce him dead.
Now all of Asgard will mourn the death of a king as his prodigal son ascends. A storybook ending that Asgard would accept. Fools, was all he could think. Every last one of them.
Sif was the only one who had at least tried to determine illusion from not and he knew Hogun was suspicious of him. He had other plans at the moment as today the throne would officially be his but his ‘friends’ were going to have to be dealt with. What was that mortal saying? Keep your friends close and your enemies closer. Killing them would be the easiest solution yet for some reason he just couldn’t bring himself to do it.
Sentiment.
Loki grimaced as the word slithered through his mind. His reaction was mostly because he hadn’t heard the word with his own voice. That last thought had sounded like Thanos.
He had spent nearly a year in the dungeons after his orchestrated defeat on Midgard and he had spent the majority of that time trying to piece himself back together. The amount of time spent alone hadn’t helped, which was why he’d created a series of illusions to help him remember at least a shadow of who he’d once been.
A younger Loki with frizzy black hair swirled into existence wearing a green tunic under a leather jerkin and both over black breeches. A Loki from about five hundred years ago. A boy who still believed he could earn his father’s love.
The teenager tilted his head a little before shrugging. “Sentiment is what held us together. Was it not our love for mother and Thor that kept our secrets safe from Thanos?”
Not that there was much Thanos didn’t forcibly extract from his mind but he still held a few secrets. Loki slowly lifted a single eyebrow at the illusioned boy, sarcasm in his tone. “Was it not that love that killed us in the first place?” His mind immediately moved to the moment he had saved Thor’s life on Svartalfheim at the cost of his own.
The AEsir believed he had no concept of honor, which was completely untrue. He just didn’t believe in their version of honor. He believed in a fair exchange. Thor had just saved his life. Brother or not, the favor had to be repaid. Unfortunately for the AEsir, he also believed that all slights had to be repaid just as evenly.
The boy shrugged and smiled crookedly. “Mischief and love, it’s part of what makes you…you. Even before all of this, you would have stepped into the sword aimed for either of them without thinking twice about it.”
Loki’s eyes grew cold as his mind focused on his mother. “What was the point in saving him when he was so useless he could not save her?”
The teenager frowned thoughtfully, sadly. A reminder of her loss that made their hearts ache. A gaping wound that still bled with every second of living. “You do not blame him for her.”
Loki wanted to. More than anything he wanted to blame Thor for their mother’s death. But the teenager was right, he didn’t blame Thor for her loss. There were so many other sins that he held the thunderer accountable for but Frigga’s death rested on his own shoulders. His own and the rest of Asgard. Loki refused to reply or even look at the illusion.
The boy’s frown slowly softened, grasping for a truth that needed to be spoken. “Out of everything that has happened, that moment held no taint of Thanos.” The moment on Svartalfheim he’d made a conscious decision to save Thor, no matter the outcome to himself. He’d succeeded, and he’d paid the price for it. And spent the last moments of his life gasping for air against the pain and apologizing like a fool. But it was also true. Those had been his actions, his decisions.
Loki gestured dismissively and the illusion vanished. It was time to officially rule Asgard.
Sif sat down almost woodenly. “He will kill us.”
Fandral glanced up from the table, all of them choosing to meet at a small tavern after the coronation. It hadn’t been the extravagant affair that had been arranged for Thor’s aborted coronation, but then there hadn’t been much time. Not to mention there was no king to physically pass the throne so the ceremony had been more formality than anything. Surprisingly Loki had refused to choose Gungnir as his formal weapon of office. He’d chosen no weapon, unheard of and yet it was his right to do so.
He frowned at Sif and asked, “Who?”
Instead of answering his question her lips twisted slightly in a grim sort of amusement. “Or order someone to do it for him.” Grimness because with Loki it was entirely possible, amusement because the trickster preferred for others to do the dirty work for him.
He blinked twice before asking hesitantly, “You mean Loki?”
Volstagg was frowning at his sandwich, he taking a bite of the monstrous creation before talking and eating at the same time. “You do not know this.”
Sif grimaced and turned away from watching Volstagg, her eyes going back and forth between Fandral and Hogun. “We are speaking of Loki.” It was all she said, as if she needed no further explanation. They all knew Loki was vindictive and unforgiving, particularly with someone that he felt wronged him.
They had all been wary of trusting Loki for years, but Jötunheim had been the beginning of the end. Now that the trickster was king, they were all on borrowed time.
Hogun had been silent and thoughtful, thinking carefully. After a few moments of worried silence from the others he nodded with finality. “Then when he commands our presence we will proceed as warriors instead of hiding like children.”
Sif looked more than a little offended. “I wasn’t suggesting hiding, Hogun.”
“Then what was your suggestion, Sif?” Volstagg had stopped eating to ask. To him, it had sounded like that had been her exact proposal.
Sif almost managed to hide a grimace. “Midgard.”
They all heard retreat, even if she wasn’t actually saying the word. “An adventure is one matter…” Volstagg trailed off, horrified to think of self-exile on Midgard. Of never seeing his children again.
A variety of expressions crossed their faces before she reluctantly continued, “Perhaps Thor--…”
Hogun slammed his fist into the table to punctuate the word. “No.”
She ignored him and continued weakly, “…it is his birthright.”
The grim warrior glared at her, reminding her of the thunderer’s crime. “A birthright he abandoned, as he did the rest of us.”
“You would prefer to follow Loki?” Hogun chose not to respond to Sif’s question.
Volstagg, always one to try to come to Thor’s defense, offered, “He must have a good reason, my friend.”
Fandral grimaced, thinking of his father. “Losing family is…difficult.”
There were grimaces echoed by all of them. But after a moment Sif shook her head. “We’ve all lost. It is a part of a warrior’s life.”
It was something that Hogun knew more than any of them. After the AEsir-Vanir war he had left Vanaheim forever, unable to remain after his entire clan had been slaughtered. All he could see of the land he used to love was the blood staining the ground.
“We now have irrefutable proof for him Loki is alive. Surely he would come back if we were to tell him.” Sif silently fought against the bitterness that was festering as she spoke. Bitterness that he had chosen a mortal over her. That he preferred the company of humans instead of the comrades that had fought and bled at his side for centuries. And a very, very tiny part of her heart wondered. A poisonous little thought that she was quick to shove far away. She wondered if this was how Loki felt, when she and the others came between him and Thor.
Fandral countered her argument quietly, “He did just lose his father, even if he is yet to be told.”
Volstagg, after several moments, frowned heavily. “Surely Loki will send a missive to inform him.”
Sif didn’t believe it for a moment. But she could see the doubt reflected by the others. “All the more reason for we to do it ourselves.”
After another silence of contemplation but no action Volstagg tentatively offered. “Thor has gained a brother…but lost a father.”
It took effort but Sif stood with a nod. “If we can convince him to return he will prove himself the better candidate for king.” But the words sounded hollow even to her own ears.
Fandral took a drink of his ale while Hogun silently shook his head. But it was the blond adventurer who replied. ”This discussion is pointless. We will not even gain access to the bridge, much less the gate. Loki will have our heads for even attempting.”
Sif leaned down and lowered her voice. “We’ve done so before, for the benefit of Asgard, we can do so again. Surely you can see that Thor would be better for Asgard.”
Hogun slowly inhaled, speaking carefully. ”It will not matter.” Sif looked to object and he held up a halting hand. “Thor abdicated. Odin chose another. Loki accepted.”
Sif opened her mouth but Fandral was quick to interrupt her before she could start. “There are those that will follow the throne, Sif, no matter who sits upon it. Thor returning now will only cause an uproar that will have Asgardians fighting one another over who deserves the right to rule.” The warrioress grimaced and sat back down.
Volstagg nodded in agreement. ”He is right, Sif. Now only in an honor battle could Thor win legitimately over Loki.” This time they all flinched. Those battles were always gruesome and it didn’t take a stretch of the imagination to conclude who the victor would be and how the loser would die. Threats aside, while none of them trusted Loki they didn’t wish him dead. “We both know that Thor will not challenge him for he will not kill his brother.”
Sif muttered sullenly to herself but her voice had no heat or bite. ”Which is not to say that Loki would not attempt to kill Thor.”
Fandral tilted his head slightly as he spoke, ”Considering he almost died for Thor I’m not certain I believe that.” The warrioress opened her mouth, but then she closed it again without speaking. A slightly puzzled look crossed her face a moment later. The charismatic AEsir nodded slowly as he spoke what they were all thinking. “Thor made his choice. He did what was best for himself…instead of what was best for the rest of us.” There were no objections. No contradictions. Just a grim resignation. “Now we have to do the same.”
Volstagg pushed back his sandwich as he stood. The fact that he did so, considering his love for food, was shocking. ”If you have need of me I will be with my family.”
“The Hall of Kings, sire.”
The servant bowed as the doors were opened for Loki but no one dared to enter. The hall was precisely that, a guarded hallway that only opened for the reigning king. All that was within was maintained with preservation spells, only the king privy to its secrets. There were whispered suspicions of what lay within but no one but Odin and the kings before him knew with certainty.
It was impractical for Asgard to be without a king so he’d had the official ceremony before Asgard today instead of waiting to organize a monumental event between the realms. The attending crowd had been a mixture of the commoners watching in hushed awe at the crowning of a king and the hushed dread from the upper class at the crowning of Loki. It certainly hadn’t been the elaborate event that Thor’s coronation had been but Loki honestly didn’t have the time or patience when he had other things on his mind.
In three more days Odin’s funeral was scheduled. He was making all the appropriate arrangements to pay the proper respect for a deceased king. The dignitaries from the other realms had all accepted the invitations. No doubt they would come to catch a glimpse of the trickster now on Asgard’s throne as much as to pay their respects.
Loki ignored both sentries as he walked forward, his green cape fluttering majestically behind him. The torches lit as he walked, illuminating the walls on either side. Maps were affixed to the wall, depicting infamous battles. Scrolls of parchment with a list of the dead were kept in glass under each. The Hall of the Dead carried formal stones of each battle and the names of those that fell chiseled into the surface. These were more museum pieces than anything. Halfway through the corridor, there was an arch to the right that opened into a room filled with books.
Books of magic not in the library, just from the titles he could see.
Histories penned in Odin’s hand. Borr’s hand. Others.
In the center an opened book showed the lines of every AEsir family. He thumbed through those pages, stopping to see his own. Well, Thor’s line really considering he wasn’t Odin’s by blood. Had the farce concerning his glorious rise as king been unnecessary he wouldn’t have claimed Odin as his father.
Yet he could clearly see his name beneath Odin’s and Frigga’s. He was surprised by that, in all honesty. It was one matter to give a child a name. Odinson. But to add that child’s name to the family line meant so much more. Unlike a title, it cannot be undone in a fit of temper. From that technicality, unless he were to choose abdication the line of succession would go from Thor to himself no matter what Odin thought on the matter.
Brushing against the runes that spelled out his name with his fingers, the line altered and formed a new pattern, Laufey and someone called Farbauti attached to him. His biological parents he gathered. He followed that line all the way up to the top. Ymir.
By most Ymir was considered THE Jötunn. The most powerful Jötunn to ever walk the nine realms. The father of all frost giant according to legend. It would be logical that the royalty of Jötunheim were directly descended from him.
He removed his finger from the page and the writing reformed itself.
His brow slowly furrowed as he traced along the line from Thor to Odin to Borr. All was as he expected, except that the name of Odin’s mother was unfamiliar to him. Bestla. It did make sense in a way. Borr had reigned without a queen, his heirs produced from a series of lovers. Curiously his fingers brushed her name and names above her were produced, the line shifting to accommodate. He looked up to the top, to the origin and froze.
Ymir.
The laughter started low at first but it quickly escalated until it was so loud and alarming that if anyone had heard it they might have fled in panic. He wasn’t sure why he was laughing. He really wanted to scream.
Ymir was a frost giant which meant that so was Bestla. Indeed a few generations ago Bestla shared a common ancestor to himself, even prior to Ymir. But it was more than that. Odin was half frost giant. The great All-Father of Asgard was part of the very species he looked down upon.
He laughed hard enough that tears started to gather and fall down his cheeks. He convinced himself that it was the laughter that caused the tears and not something tearing at his heart. Monsters. We are all monsters. Instead of finding comfort that Odin and therefore Thor were bred from the same type of monster as himself if only made it worse.
The last centuries had made him angry and bitter but he could still remember such a long time ago when Odin would take he and Thor by the hand, imparting wisdom. It wasn’t until it became obvious that he would never be the warrior that Thor was that those affections were withdrawn. Yet for centuries he’d still childishly clung to the belief that one day he could earn back that love.
But each time Thor or the others would dismiss his contribution as a trick. Each time a victory was celebrated while in the same breath his sly tactics were admonished. With each decade that passed with chastisement instead of praise those hopes were slowly crushed. Dangling from the edge of a destroyed Bi-frost, Odin staring down at him with such dull disappointment, Loki had done more than just let go of the family that he’d clung to all those long years. He let go of the hope that he would ever earn the love that he so craved.
He’d let go to seek death…and found something much worse.
A letter sealed in wax with Odin’s emblem appeared over the page. Loki’s entire being froze for just an instant. The laughter cut off sharply as Loki lifted and broke the seal, ignoring the dampness on his face, and carefully reading the contents.
My son,
The duty of every king is more than just the leading of one’s people. There are truths that are important. Truths that must be protected. There are also truths that should never be uttered, that can never be known for the good of Asgard…
Loki rolled his eyes and skimmed forward. Even with something as simple as a letter Odin liked to lecture. His expression went blank when he came to the important part.
Thor, what you have discovered concerning your lineage can never become common knowledge. Not just for the good of the realms but for your brother’s sake. The truth that I am about to reveal can never be known to him. I tell you this only if he were to one day learn the truth, as I fear he will.
Loki was not born of Asgard…
Well of course the truth should be hidden from Asgard. With the current state of things, the citizens would rebel at the thought of a frost giant on the throne, quarter or otherwise. The knowledge of Odin’s parentage would cast doubt over all of his actions. All of his edicts would be questioned. It could transmute to a hate that not even Thor could overcome.
The pages blurred and a frustrated scowl crossed Loki’s face. He rubbed at his eyes and blamed the nonexistent dust. He skimmed through the rest just to be certain but it was just more of the same. Reasons for why he should remain ignorant of the monster that he was. That they all were.
All except for his beautiful mother.
The letter fluttered to the ground, unnoticed, as Loki flinched and leaned against a book shelf with a hand protectively covering his aching heart. He’d said things that he wished he hadn’t. Looking back now with the knowledge that she had died anyway he would have taken it all back. Better that she died knowing that he loved her than to die thinking her son hated her for the truth of his birth being kept from him.
He’d never hated her. He could never hate her. He’d been angry and wary of her but that wasn’t nearly the same thing. While he starved for Odin’s affection, hers was always in abundant supply. Hela may have encouraged him to continue learning magic but it was when he saw his mother performing simple charms that he’d thrown himself into his studies. He learned tricks to make her laugh. Illusions to cause a smile. He lived for those moments and looking back he realized she’d always made time for him. Thor was his father’s son but Loki had belonged to his mother.
Loki shook his head once, his brow furrowed heavily and pushed himself firmly back onto his feet before he walked swiftly back out of the room. If he had been searching for a reason not to follow through with his plans he was now even more determined.
He paused before a very old battle. The list of the dead was longer than any other war. His green eyes flicked upward to study the realm. Muspelheim. Brow furrowing just a little, it occurred to him what war this was. When Odin used the bulk of Asgard, Vanaheim and Alfheim in an attempt to destroy Surtur and was forced to imprison him instead.
There was something else about this story that was teasing the edge of his memory. Something…an odd way had been found to imprison Surtur. A spell of some sort, forever powered by an unnamed source.
Inspiration lit those green eyes as a satisfied smirk pulled at his lips.
Loki pursed his lips before blowing softly, making certain the ink dried on the parchment so it wouldn’t smudge. He’d been debating this since Odin’s death. It would be absolutely delicious to say nothing. To send nothing. To allow Thor to find out about his father when and if he decided to wander back to Asgard. But having Thor return now to see who sat on the throne was too tempting an opportunity to pass up.
Although perhaps a tiny part of him was hoping Thor wouldn’t come. Learning that his brother was still alive and hadn’t been informed was not going to make for a happy thunderer.
“Sire.” The voice that spoke sounded decidedly pinched.
He glanced up slowly, casually from his throne. He kept all expression from his face, relaxed against his seat of power. “Ah, yes, Lady Sif.” She stood a little to the front, the way that Thor had for their merry band. Behind her were the remnants of men that at one time he’d fought with as their ally. Perhaps for even the briefest of times they had been friends. But that had been centuries ago. “And your traditional shadows Warriors Fandral, Hogan, and Volstagg.”
Sif was stiff enough that Loki wasn’t entirely certain someone hadn’t rammed a rod up her ass. Again. The woman had absolutely no sense of humor, in his opinion.
“You sent for us, sire.” Sif said the words through gritted teeth but nothing in her expression was punishable so he let the attitude lie without comment.
“That I did.” Loki nodded slowly to himself. Forgiveness wasn’t in his nature but revenge was. Keeping his tone casual as if discussing the weather. “I was wondering if I should execute the five of you now or wait until you defy my edicts a second time before requesting the executioner’s block.”
The warriors all tensed, Sif included, but she was also frowning thoughtfully since there was only the four of them before the throne. “Five?”
Loki clarified with a slightly raised eyebrow. “Heimdall, of course, since he seems to enjoy treason as much as the rest of you.”
During a time when his motives were suspect but these idiots hadn’t known it for a fact, Odin fell into his sleep after delivering the crushing blow of just what species Loki truly was in his lap. Mother had given him control of the throne while Odin was indisposed. Loki had his plans and he gave these four a simple order. To leave a then exiled and mortal Thor on Midgard. They couldn’t wait to run down to the Bi-frost and defy him and Heimdall was all too happy to comply with their request.
All of them were so certain he was up to something. He was, of course he was, but not something that would harm Asgard. Indeed had his plans succeeded it would have done the nine realms a lot of good in his opinion.
Hogun was as grim as ever as he disputed a question concerning their honor. “We have pledged our loyalties--…”
“To. Thor.” Loki snapped the words with emphasis, impatient with the older man. “Do not take me for a fool, Hogan.” His tone turned casual again, almost disturbingly friendly. “After all, I seem to recall a situation of but a few short years ago and the four of you couldn’t wait to scamper down to Midgard for your precious leader.”
Glances were exchanged amongst them, Loki feeling generous enough to give them time to formulate a response. Privately he was surprised they hadn’t already gone running to Thor. In truth he was bored and as irritating as they could all be, he was starved for a little interaction. What Loki didn’t know was the discussion amongst them had already taken place concerning Thor’s recent abandonment of Asgard in favor of Midgard.
But beyond that. Loki had been named king. They’d been present to see and hear it for themselves. There was no disputing it, certainly not now that the mantle had officially changed hands.
Fandral took a step closer, bowing respectfully and voice formal. “What must we do to prove our loyalty, sire?”
Loki tilted his head slightly to one side in consideration before locking eyes with Sif and smirking. Purring dangerously. “Offer me your head.”
She gaped and sputtered, shock not stopping her from asking, “W-what?”
Lifting one eyebrow in amusement at her. “Unlike you I did not stutter. Offer me your head, to do with as I wish.” A vicious war was briefly fought in all of their eyes.
Loki gestured slightly to the right and from the corridor a male Asgardian dressed in black walked into the room. He carried in his hands the traditional sword for such an execution, the blade honed to such an edge as to make air bleed. Bodies tensed in place, eyes moving from the executioner whose identity was always hidden, to the king that had demanded their lives.
It could just be a test.
If Loki was angry enough it might not be.
Sif knew Loki could take her head with or without her permission. They could fight, but they would be forced to kill soldiers and warriors that would never be disloyal to the throne, no matter who sat on it. She stiffened her spine and tightened her jaw before stepping forward, a closed fist held to her heart as she bowed low enough that her neck was within easy access. “As an oath of fealty, I offer my head to my sovereign, King Loki.”
One by one, the warriors 3 followed suit. Not that Loki was surprised that they waited for her response, ever the faithful sheep.
Loki silently smirked and waved his hand, the illusion disappearing. “I accept your oaths of fealty and for now you may keep your heads. You may all rise.” Which meant that he could collect from them whenever he wished lest they choose to lose their honor. They rose with surprise on their faces, glancing quickly at the place where the illusion had been moments before. As the cleverer of the quartet, Sif and Hogun realized it was an illusion before the other two. “Oh, and since I am feeling generous a word of warning.” Amusement dropped completely from Loki’s face for just a moment. “Betray me again and I will ensure you join Hela in Helheim…if I am feeling generous.”
Sif instantly started sputtering defensively, “A-again? It was you--…”
Loki’s green eyes flashed dangerously. “Yes, Sif, do finish that sentence.” Sif bit her bottom lip hard to keep from retorting. The others were focused on Loki’s promise. Eternity in Helheim or worse Niflheim was a fate that no AEsir warrior desired. And unlike other times when Loki would issue a threat with a mischievous twinkle in his green eyes, this time there wasn’t one. None of them doubted him. They all shuddered.
Loki took a minute to let them absorb his words. Then he rubbed his hands together, smirk back in place and swiftly changing the subject. “Now that that is out of the way, offer me your impressions of Asgard’s current state.”
Fandral was the one who frowned and asked. “Sire?”
The trickster noticed the blond AEsir used the title without hesitation. He would tuck that observation away for later pondering. “Defense. Offense. Weaponry. Might. Damages.” He ticked off each point with a finger until all five had been addressed, raising an eyebrow. “I am to rule Asgard, I need to know the current state of my kingdom to rule it well.” The grimaces were plain enough even Thor would have noticed. Loki made an irritated noise and pushed himself off the throne, walking down the steps. “Has no one been seeing to anything?”
Sif was trying to keep her displeasure hidden since one did not openly criticize a king, dead or not. They all were. In truth since Frigga’s fall, Odin had been a shell of a man. Volstagg attempted a diplomatic answer but didn’t fair very well. “I believe the builders were repairing the damage to the palace.”
Loki scowled heavily, turning to mutter under his breath about self-important old fools. Juggling so many plans recently, he hadn’t had the time to address anything but what Odin might have implemented prior to his collapse. He sighed and nodded to himself. The next stage of his plans would take time to prepare and if the rest of the people were as disheartened as the ones in front of him it was a good place to focus his energy in the meantime. He wanted the AEsir to run into battle determined for success, not resigned to defeat.
An official air entered his tone that had all of them snapping to attention. “I will be needing to create a council I can trust. You must decide if that will be yourselves or if I should look for other candidates.” Such a laughable idea that he trusted them. The complete opposite was true. But he trusted himself to anticipate their predictable reactions.
Sif frowned almost delicately. Wary. “A council for what, L-sire?” She almost let his name slip but caught herself. This was the throne room, after all. Familiarity from anyone other than family would not be acceptable.
He slowly lifted a reminding eyebrow. “I need those five matters in detail.” He made a dismissive gesture and started walking up the steps again, his back to them. “Either you will find out those answers or I will find someone more ambitious than yourselves that will.” All of them glanced at one another.
“You speak of ambition, sire?” Volstagg’s tone was interested. Not that the man had an ambitious bone in his body. But he was also a man who liked to haggle, a trait that Loki had always respected.
“Well, I would hardly expect my council to live outside of the palace. Rooms would be set aside for your pleasure.” Loki lounged back, his expression blanking but the slightest of tugs at his lips indicated he was teasing. “Perhaps an entire wing for a family big enough.” Of all of them, Volstagg had an impressively large family of sons and daughters, both biological and adopted.
“A place at the king’s table?” Volstagg leaned closer yet as he asked this and Loki didn’t even attempt to stop his lip from twitching in amusement this time. If there was ever anything predictable in the universe, it was the man’s love for food.
Loki waved a hand loosely. “I will not be hosting massive feasts like my predecessor but I am not opposed to a small gathering during meals.”
He dismissed them to consider matters. Whether them or someone else, he would need a few minions to get Asgard battle ready. Though he couldn’t explain why he was silently hoping they would accept his offer.
After another indecisive moment he put the missive destined for Thor with the others. If Thor came then matters would be dealt with once he arrived. If Thor did not then Loki would know where the thunderer’s loyalties truly lay.
Author's Notes:
I know, I'm just the biggest tease in the world. For those that have read this before here is where we take a bit of a detour. (Promise not to change the overall integrity)
Next:
The current state of Asgard; Odin is in for a surprise