Chapter Text
He’d seen the adoption papers once with ADOPTION written in big black letters on top of them, but they’d been whisked out of his sight and no matter where he looked he couldn’t find them. He’d thought he was the adopted one then, the way Dad (and he had been ‘Dad’ still then) always treated him, as if he was lesser than Thor, perfect Thor, but a few years later while he’d been searching in the basement he found old photos of his sister (“Do you want to end up like Hela, Loki?” Father would thunder whenever Loki was in trouble. “She’s in jail and that’s where you’ll end up too if you continue like this.”). His sister who looked like him-the same black hair, the same odd green eyes. It was Thor who was adopted, he concluded. And that’s why Father never yelled at Thor that he would turn out just like Hela and end up in jail. Thor just didn’t have the same blood.
So when Odin had yelled at him, “Because you’re adopted, Loki!” he had blanked. The rest of Odin’s words seemed to filter out, the sounds blurring around him, the world white at the edges. He had stormed out, the words going around and around his head until his whole world was made up only of them.
Adopted. You’re adopted. Adopted, Loki.
So he had been right all along. He’d been the adopted one, who could do no right, next to the golden boy who could do no wrong. It was just like a fairy tale.
He couldn’t remember when he slept that night, or rather he didn’t care to bring it up from the dredges of his memory. Thor was waiting for him when he got home, all blustering and worry.
“Are you okay, Loki? He was wrong.”
Loki brushed him off of himself. Odin wasn’t wrong. Facts were facts. Thor was the beloved, natural child and Loki was the hated, adopted one.
His mother Frigga was sitting in the living room, a piece of knitting in her hands.
“Loki-” she started, standing up when he came in, but he cut her off.
“You couldn’t be bothered to tell me? That I was adopted, Mom? Oh, that’s right, you’re not my mom.”
“Loki!” she called, but he was already out of the living room, up the stairs to his own room. His clothes were in neat bundles in his closet, his dresses and skirts hidden carefully behind dress shirts and slacks. He threw everything in the first bag he found, one of Thor’s that stunk from sweat. He didn’t care at the moment.
His kindle followed, and then his money. He grabbed his backpack and stuffed a blanket inside, along with his phone. His bus card and wallet were in his pocket.
“Loki.” Frigga was at his door. How long had she been standing there? How had he not noticed? Well, it wasn’t like he’d be seeing her again. He shoved past her.
“Loki.” She caught onto the edge of his sleeve. “I’ll always be your mother.”
He pulled his sleeve out of her hand, and started down the stairs, then paused. He wasn’t planning to see her again. And she had been a good mother when Odin wasn’t around. “Goodbye, Frigga. I love you.”
The stairs clattered under his feet, as he descended, for once not caring about being quiet, knowing that nobody was going to stop him. Thor was in the entrance hallway, with his coat half on.
“Loki!” he cried out when he saw him. “Where are you going?” He tried to block the doorway. “Dad, don’t let Loki go.”
“He can go if he likes.” Odin’s breath seemed to crawl under Loki’s coat collar, making him shrink into it, although he knew Odin was at the end of the hall, not even close enough to touch him. He pushed past Thor, who reached out for him as he went, and then was gone into the streets.