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FREDAG (FRIDAY)
Loki Odinson, Crown Prince of Asgard, Rightful King of Jotunheim, now King Regent of Midgard stood before the full United Nations Assembly. He'd been floored by Midgard's governments' capitulating to him so very quickly. It was hard to believe. One blast in the desert, and they were all metaphorically bending the knee. Incredible. He'd won. All it took was a prank that went horribly, horribly wrong. He took a breath, made sure he was standing straight, it would not do for a king to slouch, after all. He felt like he was standing outside of his body, listening, as it said, “It's the unspoken truth of humanity that you crave subjugation. The bright lure of freedom hobbles you, diminishes your life's joy. You were made to be ruled. So I have come to help you fulfill your destiny.” He sincerely believed it. This was a time a lie would serve so much better, and he just went and told the truth. What was he even doing? Not the cool diplomat at all. Then he felt himself smile, oh, by all the relics of Asgard, it felt so creepy, and menacing.
Internally he crumbled. Everything was spinning out of control. He meant, after all, to be a wise king, and a benevolent one. A ruler to be loved, not despised, or feared. Well, maybe a little feared, if he was being honest. This was not a good start, not at all. The chamber's host of cameras that had seemed to have such cheery red lights when he started, now glared at him in angry, judgmental crimson. He had to get away from the podium, and quickly. His palms sweat, he was light headed, and it felt like everything he'd ever eaten was desperately to escape up his throat. He absolutely refused to vomit in front of these humans. Loki was on a runaway horse, using every trick he had to keep from falling off and be trampled in its panic. Worse, it was entirely his fault.
TORSDAG (THURSDAY)
“Dette er alt min feil. Bror, jeg beklager.” (“This is all my fault. Brother, I'm so sorry.”) He said softly in Asgardian*, as he brushed back a bit of stray hair on Thor's head. His brother's skin was so cold. Tears welled in Loki's eyes. It started as a prank, just a bit of fun to ruin his brother's crowning day, how did it all go so wrong? He cleared his throat. “You can get up now.” He tried to smile, “It's very funny,” his voice cracked. “Very good, you've put one over on the god of Mischief. It's one for the sagas.” He tried to laugh, “Come on, we'll tell it to the scribes together over some of that noxious brew you love. Now, open your eyes.”
Thor didn't move.
He took his brother's hand, held it up to his cheek, and barely whispered as he begged, “Please get up.” His voice louder, he then bargained, “Throw me across the room, throw me out the window, I don't care. I swear I'll never play tricks on you again. I'll even do 'Get Help' whenever you want. All you have to do is get up.” His grip tightened on his brother's hand. “Please Thor.” His voice caught. “Just. open. your. eyes.”
Thor remained stubbornly still.
Loki's sorrow, grief, and guilt laced through him like Mjolnir's lightning. “DAMN YOU! OPEN YOUR EYES!” He roared, tears streaming down his face.
Nothing. Thor, his brother, was indeed dead.
Shortly before, he'd been granted access to the body. Discretely, his entourage and guards left him alone with Thor's remains. The body laid still in a makeshift morgue. Not even in proper raiments, he lay there in those ridiculous human clothes. Shameful. Whatever satisfaction he'd had in destroying his brother's killer turned to ash on seeing his body this way. That one eyed human, what was his name? Director Angry? Fiery? Oh, yes, Fury. Director Fury had promised, and delivered the murderer to Loki's eager hand. His vengeance, in turn, had been swift, and brutal. It had not, in fact, brought his brother back.
ONSDAG (WEDNESDAY)
“Avenge your brother.” His mother’s words rang in his ears as he marched at the head of the Asgardian army, the Destroyer following behind. The Warriors Three were at his side as they approached the Bifrost. Heimdall was waiting, tall and grim. Loki held the Casket of Ancient Winters in one hand. He didn’t notice that it longer colored his skin blue. “Midgard.” He said tersely. Heimdall nodded as he stoically opened the way.
TIRSDAG (TUESDAY)
He’d returned to Asgard with the rest of Thor’s ill fated party. Loki’d lost track of the hours. Their father raged at Thor, not knowing Loki’d started the chain of events as a lark. They’d gone back to Asgard, needing to prepare for war with the Frost Giants. This was getting out of hand, he had to fix it. Before he could say a word Thor’d been stripped of his power, and his hammer’d been thrown to the aether. Swiftly thereafter Thor was banished to Midgard. Loki took a little time, trying to gather his wits. He found himself in the vault standing before the Casket of Ancient Winters. He picked it up, held it, and watched his own flesh turn blue again. It was then Odin found him, and told him of his true parentage. He was Loki, Rightwise Born King of Jotunheim, as well as a prince of Asgard.
Loki had no time to process anything, not the banishment, nor what his own lineage truly meant. Within the hour they had word from Heimdall that Thor had been killed. Odin Allfather collapsed in his tracks, presumably because the news was too grim, falling into the Odin Sleep before himself, and Frigga, his mother. She looked stricken, and started giving orders as to where to take Odin. Her voice was calm, but her hands shook with rage as she picked up Odin’s Staff from where it had fallen, and placed it in his hands. “It’s all in your hands, now, Loki. Be a good king. Avenge your brother. Your father needs me now.” She turned and swept out of the room, directing servants where to take Odin.
Alone, he looked at the Staff somewhat stupidly for a moment. This was not supposed to happen.
MANDAG (MONDAY)
Loki had watched enviously, and anxiously as his brother Thor walked through the throne room with Mjolnir held high. The crowd cheered as Thor strutted to their waiting father, Odin Allfather, to complete his oath, and thus become King of Asgard. Loki's face was impassive during the ceremony. But he was eager for the fun to begin. He'd opened a secret way to Jotenhiem, and a talked a few Frost Giant dupes into coming through, all too happy to try to loot Asgard's treasure vault.
The “fun” worked. They’d come through, interrupting his brother’s assent. Moreover, the Destroyer had done its grim work, and Asgard’s treasures remained safe. But Thor, predictably, was angry, and chose to pick a fight with the Frost Giants.
Thor then talked the Warriors Three into going to Jotunheim, because of course he did. Loki had no choice but to go, if only to keep his idiot brother alive in the face of such rash decision.
Upon arriving in Jotunheim Loki realized quite quickly this was a fight they couldn’t win. He did his level best to save the situation so they could go back to Asgard with their lives. He’d sweet talked King Laufey into letting them leave. Then His Majesty, King Laufey had to hurl an insult at Thor. In the blink of an eye they were fighting for their lives. And came the fateful moment his arm was grabbed, and… The Hel? Why was his arm suddenly blue? But still, the battle was going very poorly. Loki insisted they go. Finally, Thor listened, letting them run, while he covered their retreat. At the end, they were trapped with nowhere left to run. The Bifrost, called for by Thor, failed to materialize at first. Loki was sure this was their end. He was staring death in its face because of his brother’s unruly temper. The Bifrost opened in that moment. There was their father, on Sleipnir. He was very angry.
(From Uatu The Watcher's notes.)
"That moment? The place it all went horribly wrong? In truth it began with Dr. Pym's wrath, a father's grief steeped in madness, and revenge. I see Loki's mind as well. For him it began when he decided to play a prank on his brother. I do not know where his guilt will lead him now. But I shall observe."
*Norwegian