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Loki sat on Odin's throne, wearing Odin's clothes and face, and thought very well of himself.
His plan had worked beautifully. He had stunned and bespelled his father in his moment of emotional turmoil, and bound him on Midgard. He had taken the throne of Asgard - why not? Who knew the mannerisms and tones of Odin better than he? - and he would rule far, far better than his so-called 'father' ever had.
Certainly better than that lummox who called himself his brother. Who was due for his audience, now.
Thor entered, brilliant and blond and armored, Mjolnir in his fist, and fell to one knee before what he thought was his father. Loki's eyes searched the man before him, seeking out his intent. He found regret, but also a hot spark of anger in the thunder god's visage. He would have to be careful.
So Loki started with false praise for the actions of his 'son' during the Alignment, offering him the throne. He was certain that Thor would dissemble, say some grand and meaningless words about his destiny to guard all the realms when in truth he wanted only to return to Midgard and crush his little human waif in his arms. But that was not what he said.
Thor rose to his feet, and the spark of anger in his eye grew brighter. "Father, I cannot take the throne. For every day I sat in your place, I should only think of a lie, a terrible lie, that you told and never drew back. A lie you can never draw back, now."
Loki raised one white brow. "A King must use every weapon in defense of his power, even lies. Tell me, my son, what lie is it that you speak of?"
Thor's knuckles whitened on Mjolnir's grip, and Loki forced himself to relax. Not to tremble, not to raise Gungnir and smash away that deadly weapon only a few feet away from him.
"When Loki died," Thor actually paused at this, lip quivering in what had to be a show of false grief, "when he died, I cut a lock of his hair, for a mourning-lock." His free hand touched his chest; was he wearing the relic there, under his armor? "And on Midgard, I spoke with the Man of Iron and mentioned that, and he said that he dearly wished to use his machines and compare his hair and mine, to see how we differed in our D-N-A." He spoke the three letters laboriously.
Loki did not flinch, even though he knew that if he took on his true form now, that missing lock would be a bare patch over one ear and down his neck. Instead he spoke words that Odin might have spoken: "Was that wise? To share knowledge of your body with this man of Midgard?"
"He is a warrior, and though he be of iron he is surely my brother in steel." Thor actually gritted his teeth, and the next words came out as though they were being forced out of him. "When he tested the hair, his and mine, he said that we were brothers. Half-brothers."
Loki shook his head. "My son, you know the story-"
"YES," he half-shouted and then spoke with a growl in his voice. "I know the story you told him! Of finding Loki, the son of King Laufey himself, a tiny abandoned babe on the fields of Jotunheim, in the great last battle against the Frost Giants. You told him how you brought him back to raise among us, cloaked in your magic to hide his birth-nature. And I believed, and I trusted. And I did not think, and that is a stain on my own honor. That I was too willing to believe you."
There was hatred in Thor's gaze now, and even though that hatred was directed at Odin, it still made Loki shiver.
"We speak of the war against Jotunheim as though it was one great pitched battle, but it took months. Many months. And there were meetings, negotiations, pauses on the battlefield. Frost-Giants and Asgardians did mingle, sometimes. You met with King Laufey, more than once. I have seen the records of it, the opening of the Bifrost for your passage. And at one of those meetings there was another sort of mingling."
Thor's words seem to drain all of the sound out of the room. The tiny background noises of music and guards' passage faded to nothing, and only those words remained.
"It is certain, it is proven, that Loki and I were half-brothers. That we had the same sire. You, Odin, king of Asgard and husband of Frigga, are the true father of Loki Lau - Loki Odinsson."
That name was not a bringer of silence; it seemed to echo off the golden walls, growing louder. Loki Odinsson. Loki Odinsson.
Loki shook his head sadly, crushing down his rising feelings of confusion. He must project only certainly and strength now. "My son, I do not know how the Midgardians tricked into believing this lie, but it is a lie. How could you think that I would perform such an ignoble act?"
Thor's broad shoulders slumped for an instant. "The Man of Iron has - experience, with women trying to use his body not just for pleasure, but to get a child with him. He said to me, Can Odin not be coerced? Or magicked? Or forced?"
Loki raised a hand to interrupt. "None of these things-"
"Or made drunk?" Thor's gaze was cold on what he thought was his father's face. "If you say that cannot happen, it shall be another lie between us."
Loki swallowed, and lowered his hand. He did not let it clench in nervousness, or let his boiling thoughts show. He wore the illusion of Odin and he would be cold, immobile, a figure of pure strength-
"Did Mother know?" Thor asked quietly.
The strength ran out of Loki like water. Because Mother was dead, dead and gone, and there was no way of knowing if she had known the truth. Had she embraced her changeling son knowing him to be her husband's by-blow, or had Odin kept her in darkness?
Thor looked up at the throne with a look of deepest disappointment and grief in his eyes.
"You have answered without saying a word, Father. Because if it were not true, you would not weep, now."
Startled, Loki touched his face, felt the wetness of tears in his white beard. But -
"That is why I leave the throne to you. Because of the lie." He turned a little away, and then back. "And because you said you would use any weapon to defend your power. Not your people. Not Asgard. Power. That is the way of darkness, and I will have no part of it."
Thor bowed and left. Loki remained on the throne, his face frozen into a mask of benign authority. Behind that mask, he was screaming.