Chapter Text
"Because I killed King Laufey."
Judging by their expressions, only one of Jötunheim's kings understands right away what Loki's declaration means for them.
"A bold claim, Trickster." Once again, Loki can't help being impressed by Helblindi's self-control; the deep, gravelly voice remains calm in spite of the fury flashing in the elder king's eyes. "But still just words, and from one who is known as a liar throughout the realms. Who are your witnesses?"
"Who cares about witnesses?" Byleistr reminds Loki of a hunting dog straining against his leash, even if the boy doesn't dare to shake off Helblindi's hand that is gripping his arm. "I've had enough of his taunts, brother! Are we going to let him stand here and boast about our father's murder? I don't care if –"
Loki raises an eyebrow. "The pup would break his oath scant minutes after he swore it, but you call me a liar, King Helblindi?"
Helblindi shoots him a murderous glare, but otherwise ignores the remark and focuses on Byleistr instead. "Calm yourself, brother, and think – where would Laufey's firstborn son turn if the revelation of his true birth cost him Asgard's throne?"
The look of dawning realization on Byleistr's face would be comical to watch if Loki weren't so busy trying not to remember all those moments when he saw Thor sporting a similar expression. Yet, as it happened all too frequently with Thor as well, Byleistr's understanding only takes him halfway to the point his brother is trying to make. "You truly believe this one could ever challenge us for the throne? This isn't Asgard, where they only care about the order of birth instead of choosing the worthiest heir!"
Loki wishes things were truly so clear-cut on Asgard – the oldest son traditionally has the strongest claim, but there's no law stipulating that the firstborn must always be first in line for the throne. How different would his youth have been if he had grown up believing that he only came second because of an accident of birth that was neither his fault nor a reflection on his character?
"Byleistr." From the sound of it, Helblindi is at the end of his patience. "What would our people say if Laufey's eldest, seiðr-wielding son appeared in their midst and claimed that he slew the king?"
I owe you my thanks, Queen of Niflheim, for this most helpful piece of information, Loki thinks as he watches Byleistr's expression of growing horror, now that the boy finally appears to grasp the full implications of Loki's announcement. If it hadn't been for Hela's twisted pride in her monstrous lineage, he would never have thought to investigate just how valuable Laufey's blood on his hands might prove in his dealings with Jötunheim. Laufey slew his grandfather and took his throne, which used to be the traditional way of settling the succession among the members of their royal house...
It seems unwise to give the brothers time to get over their initial shock. "If it is witnesses you want, Kings of Jötunheim, I trust that the word of Frigga Allmother will be enough to convince you and your people that my claim is true?"
Make your father proud, my king –
Loki pushes the memory aside. "Because it was right before her eyes that King Laufey died by my hand."
The silence that follows is answer enough – both Helblindi and Byleistr must be aware that Frigga is probably the only person in Asgard whose testimony not even the Jötnar would gainsay. The Allmother is held in high regard by all the realms, and even Asgard's enemies acknowledge that her Vanir blood sets her apart from the Aesir in spite of the fact that she was Odin's queen.
Loki allows himself a thin, dagger-sharp smile. What will it be, sons of Laufey? Will you keep my secret, or will you let your people know of my double claim to your throne as your father's firstborn and as the one who slew him? What is more important to you, your kingdom or your revenge?
"I did not offer you my oath in return for yours, Kings of Jötunheim," he eventually speaks up again when the brothers remain stubbornly silent. "I will promise you this, though: King Loki of Asgard will be your ally – Loptr Laufeyson, rightful heir to the crown of Jötunheim, will claim his birthright and sit on your throne instead of you. The choice is yours, and I advise you to choose wisely."
Helblindi and Byleistr share another complicated look, and Loki experiences a sudden flash of apprehension that he might have overplayed his hand, that they will indeed force him to exchange Asgard for the icy wastelands of their kingdom and rule over a realm of monsters in their stead.
I, Loki, rightful King of Jötunheim...
He has no idea where that thought came from, but the feeling of dread that accompanies it is so intense that it makes his stomach clench and his throat close up. Forcing himself to breathe through the rising panic, Loki reminds himself that it has always been a sound strategy to base your gambit on your opponents' greed, that two kings who were willing to share the crown rather than risk losing it altogether won't throw it away just to inconvenience their enemy, no matter how much they might hate him. They might very well try to kill him instead, but –
Evidently there will be a line.
He has no memory of ever speaking those words, even if it feels like he can hear them in his own voice – but the only thing that matters is that they're true enough, and have been for almost as long as he can remember.
Ironically, the thought manages to calm him. Even if the Jötun rulers should be willing to risk Asgard's retaliation by attacking her king (and he doubts they will while the memory of the Bifröst's devastation of their world still fresh), Loki isn't terribly concerned that they might succeed; he has evaded far more dangerous foes with far less power at his disposal than he wields now, after all.
At long last, Helblindi finds his voice again. "You offer alliance, yet you threaten in the same breath, Liesmith? And you expect us to trust your word?"
"I offered you peace between Asgard and Jötunheim," Loki replies evenly although it costs him some effort not to smirk, "but why should that concern me if I am not of Asgard, but of Jötunheim? Let me speak plainly, sons of Laufey: I have no desire to ever consider myself your brother, but if you force me to be your brother in the eyes of my realm and yours, you will also make me your deadly enemy."
He can't help thinking that Jötunheim's concept of brotherhood between princes seems a lot more honest than Asgard's – because how could those born with equal claims to a prize only one can eventually win possibly be expected to become anything but bitter rivals?
Only one of you can ascend to the throne, but both of you were born to be kings –
You're my brother and my friend – sometimes I'm envious, but never doubt that I love you…
Do. Not. Go. There. Loki digs his nails into his palms and talks right over the unbidden memories.
"That is the choice I'm offering you. If you want me to swear it on my seiðr, I will – but believe me when I tell you that the God of Lies keeps his promises when he chooses to give them."
Helblindi's red eyes are fixed on Loki's as if he were trying to read his mind in them. Loki holds the king's gaze for what feels like a small eternity, although it actually can't be much more than a few heartbeats.
At long last, Helblindi is the first to look away, and Loki finally remembers to draw breath again.
"We have little use for your oath, Loki Odinson," the older king states gravely and tightens his grip on Byleistr's arm before the boy can interrupt him. "We will keep the oaths we swore, and we will keep ruling our father's realm by right of succession as Laufey's only surviving heirs. Loptr Laufeyson was our brother, but he died as a babe on the altar of the Winter Gods, and his name shall remain no more than a cherished memory among his people until the Fimbulwinter turns Yggdrasil itself to ice."
Loki nods with equal gravity. He is almost as uncomfortable with the patronymic by which Helblindi called him as he is with the one his never-brother denied him, but he knew from the moment Gungnir came to his hand that the former was a mask he would have to keep wearing whether he liked it or not. He may not be happy with it, but he has worn enough masks in his life to know that he'll be able to live with this one as well.
"Then I bid you farewell, Kings of Jötunheim, and I ask that you use the Casket to prepare yourselves and your realm so that your allies will find you ready to defend the Nine with them when the time comes."
"It will be done."
Helblindi's solemn declaration, its effects somewhat marred by his younger brother's resentful muttering, is the last thing Loki hears before he steps onto the Secret Path that will lead him back to Asgard. He doesn't need the Tesseract to return to a place he knows so well – and while he has considered calling down the Bifröst to not-so-subtly remind the Jötun kings and their subjects of the dangers of oath-breaking, he doesn't believe it is necessary any longer. His message has been received and understood, so it's probably preferable if Asgard's newest allies keep associating the Bifröst's destructive power with Odin instead of Loki – he will need to make use of this alliance soon enough if he wants to pursue the idea of making contact with the Fire Giants through their Jötun brethren, after all.
Too bad that getting the Jötnar to agree to an alliance with Asgard may have been the easier part of his plan.
+++
Sif whips around with a curse when Loki steps out of the space between worlds right behind her in the middle of the Observatory.
"…my king!" It's obvious that she would love to add a few choice words to the salutation, and the fact that she bites them back almost makes Loki miss the Sif of old who would have punched him in the nose for a stunt like that.
"I didn't mean to startle you, Gatekeeper," he says and allows himself to briefly enjoy the glare she shoots him before he turns serious again. "Do you have anything to report?"
Sif seems taken aback. "As a matter of fact, I do – I was just about to send a message to alert you that I'm seeing strange... things happening on Jötunheim."
Loki raises an eyebrow. He obviously returned not a moment too soon; she's a fast learner indeed. "Things?"
Sif's golden eyes lose their focus, and then widen in alarm. "I thought I saw a flash of bright blue energy in the royal citadel of Utgard, and now – there's something in the hands of the kings that shines with the same kind of energy, it... I've never seen this before, but from everything I've heard about it, it looks like –"
"The Casket of Ancient Winters?" Loki finishes for her.
Her eyes snap back to him at once, and then narrow with suspicion. "How did you know? My king?" she adds belatedly as if she had forgotten for a moment who she's talking to.
Loki shrugs with feigned indifference. "I know because I left it there." When Sif's only reaction is shocked silence, he adds with a hint of irony, "I suppose I'd better give you permission to speak freely."
She doesn't even seem to have heard him, but it probably makes no difference at this point. "You left the Casket with the Frost Giants? After your father had to go to war to take it from them because it made them a danger to all the realms? Are you out of your mind?"
"It has been suggested a few times," Loki replies coolly. "However, one might consider it an improvement that your first impulse now is to accuse me of madness instead of treason, don't you think?"
Sif opens her mouth and closes it again, as if her brain had finally caught up with the words she has just yelled at the man she is sworn to serve. She pales, but then squares her shoulders and raises her chin in a way Loki has probably seen a thousand times before. Ah, there you are, Lady Sif; I knew you were still hiding somewhere underneath the deferential veneer.
"It is not my place to question your decisions, my king, but –"
"– but you'll do it anyway," Loki completes the sentence for her. "So tell me, Sif, since you've apparently made up your mind on the matter already – for what nefarious purpose would I give Jötunheim's most sacred and powerful relic back to the Jötun kings?"
She doesn't avert her gaze, although it seems to cost her some effort. "You admitted yourself that you were the one who let the Jötnar into the Vault before…"
"Before Thor's coronation, yes," Loki continues when she falters as if she couldn't bring herself to mention Thor's name in such a context; he doesn't have time for her sensitivities right now. "Do you seriously believe that I did it out of fondness for the Frost Giants? Haven't you heard that I would have annihilated their entire realm if Thor hadn't stopped me?"
I could have done it, father! I could have done it! For you! For all of us!
No, Loki…
Brutally reining in his thoughts before they can stray even further down a path he isn't willing to tread again, Loki decides to prod a different, newer kind of sore spot instead. "Satisfy my curiosity, Lady Sif: who do you think killed King Laufey when he tried to assassinate the Allfather?" And your death came by the son of Odin –
Sif seems taken aback. "You did, of course. Everyone knows that."
Something eases in Loki's chest at the realization that Frigga, at least, didn't lie to him when she claimed that Asgard's people had been told who had slain Laufey, if not how it had really happened.
"And yet you still suspect me of being in cahoots with his heirs."
"I never said that." At long last, Sif seems to have regained her composure. "However, your people will question your motives once they hear about this, my king. Why would you arm our deadliest enemies at a time when…"
Loki smiles without humor when she falls silent. "Starting to catch on, Sif? If you truly still consider the Jötnar to be our deadliest enemies, you haven't been listening during any of the council meetings you attended."
Sif's face reflects a complicated mix of bewilderment, disbelief and dawning realization. "You expect them to use the Casket to fight against Thanos?"
Loki shrugs. "Actually, I expect them to use it for the restoration of their wretched realm since it has allegedly been dying around them for a millennium. I assume they must indeed need the Casket rather desperately, considering they were willing to pay the price I demanded for returning it to them."
"And the price was – "
"A blood oath to stand with Asgard against the Titan when the time comes."
She's staring at him now, her golden eyes wide with – is that respect he's seeing in her expression? Apparently, there's a first time for everything.
"You managed to force the Frost Giants into an alliance with us? But – you agreed with Tyr when he said it would never happen!"
"Did I?" Loki asks, not too bothered by the fact that the question sounds a little smug. "Or did I just not see the point of discussing the matter since I already knew I was going to prove him wrong?"
Sif takes a deep breath and widens her stance as if she were bracing herself for an attack. "I owe you an apology, my king."
Loki shrugs again. "Had you said what you said without my permission to speak your mind, Gatekeeper, a mere apology would hardly be sufficient at this point. I want you to keep a close watch on the Jötun kings for the time being; I wish to be informed of their every move, and of every way they're using the Casket. Alert me immediately if anything seems the least bit suspicious to you – we have their oaths, but that doesn't mean we should start trusting them."
Sif nods gravely. "I am yours to command, my king."
"Yes, you just gave me ample proof of that." Loki holds up his hand to cut off Sif's retort; he has neither the time nor the inclination to bicker with her. "It seems that your mastery of your Sight is improving by leaps and bounds, so I'm sure you will be able to detect any sign of treachery on the Jötnar's part. Have you yet learned to listen from a distance as well?"
She lowers her eyes. "Not yet, my king; it seemed more important that I learn to See as quickly as possible, so there was no time to –"
"No matter," Loki interrupts her again, "I'm well aware of your dedication to your calling, Gatekeeper, and I don't doubt that you will come into the fullness of your abilities before long."
He isn't worried that Sif might overhear anything he doesn't want her – or anyone on Asgard – to know once she does learn to eavesdrop across realms; of the two Jötun kings, only Byleistr might be stupid enough to try and discuss the secret that would cost him and his brother their throne if they were overheard, and Loki is absolutely certain that Helblindi would immediately put a stop to it if the boy so much as alluded to the dangerous truth of Loki's birth. Loki would disagree with them, but he's sure they're convinced that they have a lot more to lose than he does if that particular truth ever comes to light.
Sif bows in a show of deference that is almost convincing. "I thank you, my king."
Loki is rather glad to see the uncomfortable blush that's coloring her cheeks; embarrassment has ever made her dangerous, and he needs her to focus her resentment on the task he has given her because he doesn't trust his never-brothers in spite of having made sure that they have far more to gain from keeping their oaths than from breaking them. He isn't going to tell her that, of course; he just gives her a nod and then steps back into the Space Between.
+++
He reappears only seconds later in his – blessedly empty – study and is greeted by a caw from the direction of the windowsill where Hugin is grooming his ruffled feathers. An indignant squawk gives away Munin's location; the second raven is perched on the backrest of Loki's desk chair and glares daggers at his brother.
With a frown, Loki steps closer; there are several black feathers on the floor next to the desk, indicating that the ravens have been fighting again. He has never seen them at odds during the Allfather's lifetime, so it seems rather ironic that they should start quarrelling as soon as they were serving Loki instead of Odin. Then again, the Allfather did accuse him of bringing war and ruin wherever he went –
Only he didn't, because Loki can't remember Odin ever saying anything like that to him even though it feels like he can still hear the words resounding in his mind.
Apparently, facing his monstrous kin has shaken him more deeply than he'd care to admit.
Loki draws a long, unsteady breath and exhales slowly in an attempt to get his body's belated reaction under control. His hands are shaking again, and he has to suppress the urge to stare at them until he can be certain that they're no longer blue, that the disfiguring lines he owes to a mother whose name he never wanted to learn are not visible any more.
And yet – he can hide the evidence of his accursed lineage under a pale, green-eyed facade, but he can't purge it from his blood, can't exorcise the blue-skinned demons that have been haunting him ever since the day he'd tricked himself by goading Thor into attacking Jötunheim.
Never one for sentiment, were you?
Loki startles so badly that it feels like his heart is about to break free from his chest when the terribly familiar voice speaks up beside him. It can't be, it absolutely can't be – but he's here, Thor is here, standing right next to the raven perching on Loki's chair, and Loki can only stare at him, frozen to the spot in a way he would probably find ironic if he weren't so utterly unable to think right now.
Thor's smile is sad with a hint of condescension, as if Loki had just disappointed him in a manner he always saw coming.
Let's be honest, our paths diverged a long time ago.
Munin screeches and takes flight, and Thor takes a step closer, and then another –
Loki's seiðr explodes out of him in a shockwave of blinding green light. He hasn't lost control of his power like that since the early days of his adolescence, but now it lashes out towards the apparition that can't be his brother with the pure, instinctual panic of a trapped animal. The papers covering Loki's desk are sent flying as if caught in a gale, and deep in his bones, he can feel a strangely discordant vibration jarring the ever-present, steady pulse of Asgard's magic.
Then everything goes quiet again.
Loki has to brace himself on his desk to prevent his legs from giving out; he's out of breath as if he'd just been running for his life, and his heart is still hammering against his ribs like a bird trying to escape its cage.
He's also entirely alone; the ravens have fled, and there's no sign of the specter that looked and sounded so much like Thor –
Enough of this! You never feared Thor while he lived, but you would let a lingering echo terrify you?
Breathing deeply in order to steady his racing heartbeat, Loki finally manages to get a grip on himself. He has no idea what just happened – during the first days after his return to Asgard, he had constantly felt like he was seeing glimpses of Thor in every shadow, but it has been months now since his eyes stopped playing those tricks on him. Did he really allow the creatures who share his blood to unsettle him that badly?
Or perhaps, he thinks with enough self-deprecation to almost deaden the hot sting of shame, Sif had it right and he's finally losing his mind.