Chapter Text
Thor paced in his rooms, mentally reviewing his post-coronation speech. Battles he could handle, enemies he could fight, but words had always been his brother’s domain. He had asked Loki for assistance, but his brother had laughed and told him he would be far more likely to remember the words if he wrote them himself. After much persuasion, (by which Thor meant he had sat on Loki until his brother had finally said yes), Loki had grudgingly agreed to listen to Thor’s practice and help smooth out any rough edges. After, and only after, the speech was already finished.
Finishing was the difficult part. The words simply would not come. Soon, all of Asgard would cheer for him as he promised once again to protect the realm against all those who would harm her. He loved Asgard, with all his heart, but he was a man of action. How could he express all those feelings in a few brief words? Loki made it look so easy…
“My prince?”
The servant looked nervous, perhaps because he had just caught the crown prince of Asgard pulling on his own hair like a child. Or perhaps that was simply the normal state of servants. It was sometimes difficult to tell.
“The Allfather has summoned you to the throne room, my prince. He wishes you to come at once.” Having delivered his message, the servant bowed once and retreated from the room.
A summons? The coronation was yet days away. What could possibly be the purpose of a summons now? Surely Father was not going to change his mind, not at this late hour. Perhaps there was some aspect of the ceremony Father wished to discuss with him. Some detail that required Thor’s attention in order to ensure that the day went perfectly.
Shrugging aside his sudden unease, Thor left for the throne room. It would not do to keep Father waiting.
The first thing Thor noticed was the noise. It sounded as if all of Asgard was crowded into the room, and indeed, when Thor entered it certainly seemed as if all of Asgard had tried. The massive throng of people quickly moved aside when they saw their crown prince had arrived, leaving a clear path to the dais. From the gossip reaching his ears, none of them had any idea why they were there.
Father sat upon the throne, Gungnir in his hand, expression regal. Loki was standing at the Allfather’s left, face smooth and impassive. Thor raised his eyebrow slightly, inclining his head towards the Allfather in a silent question, What is this about? Loki gave a minute shrug of his shoulders in response. Apparently he knew no more than the rest of them. That in itself was strange; Loki was remarkably good at knowing everything that went on around him, and had a better idea of the palace gossip than most of the servants. That anyone, even Father, had managed to arrange such an event without his knowledge was oddly…troubling.
Mother was not there. She had not left her rooms in some days, complaining of illness. Nothing serious, Father had assured them when they asked. Nothing that would cause her to miss the coronation. Woman’s troubles, he had told them with a smile. She would be better soon.
As Thor made his way to the throne, he mentally reviewed everything he had done in the past few weeks. Did Father have some cause to be angry with him? Surely that was not what this was about. Father would never reprimand him in public, would never allow the people of Asgard to see the royal family divided. For a moment Thor entertained the notion that the coronation was happening now, as that was the only thing he could think of that could account for such a spectacle. But surely Father would have told him if the date were being changed.
He passed Sif and the Warriors Three standing at the front of the crowd. Sif smiled at him reassuringly, and Thor’s spirits lifted. Perhaps it was merely a ceremony of some kind. Despite Loki’s best efforts at drilling the information into his head, there easily could have been a ritual that Thor had somehow forgotten. He had been so worried about the speech that he had not paid particular attention to anything else. And now that he was closer, Thor could see an ornate dagger placed carefully on a small table near the throne. Yes, some kind of ceremony. Thor hoped that his ignorance would not cause him to shame himself in front of the crowd.
Gracefully, Thor sank to his knee in front of the Allfather, fist over his heart, and awaited further instructions.
For a moment the Allfather sat there, single eye glinting. Then he banged Gungnir against the ground, once, twice, and three times, before the hall was silent and still. He smiled down at Thor, expression proud.
“Thor Odinson, rise, and stand by me.”
Thor did so, taking his accustomed place at the Allfather’s right hand. This also placed him near the dagger. The jewels on the hilt had made the dagger look more decorative than useful, but the blade was clearly sharp. Thor frowned slightly as he looked at it. Worried about the speech or not, he was quite certain he would have remembered any ceremony that called for the spilling of blood.
The Allfather stood, head turning slightly as he observed the crowd. There were curious glances, but no one disturbed the silence. Satisfied by whatever he saw, the Allfather began his speech. “My people, I know that you wonder at my purpose in calling you here today. As you all know, the day will soon come when my son, Thor, replaces me as king. As a father, I could not be more proud. But as a king, I must know that he is ready, ready to defend Asgard against all those who might harm her.”
Hearing the Allfather’s words reflect his own earlier thoughts, Thor could not repress a shudder. What would he have to do to prove himself worthy? Perhaps that was what the dagger was for, some sort of symbolic gesture regarding his willingness to shed his blood in defense of the realm.
The Allfather continued. “Long has Asgard reigned supreme, leader of the Nine Realms. We have fought for our place. Good men have bled and died for it. Yet always Asgard remains victorious, no matter the enemy. Against the dwarves, who now give us golden gifts in tribute. Against the dark elves, who no longer dare encroach on our lands.” A pause, as the Allfather’s gaze swept the crowd. “Against our greatest enemies, the Frost Giants, who lie broken in their own realm. But not defeated. Not yet. For they have powers, my people, that we do not fully understand. Powers that could rival even our own strength.”
Thor couldn’t help risking a quick glance sideways at Loki. What was the Allfather doing? Were they to go to war, now, with his coronation only days away? Loki remained facing forward, face paler than usual. As if sensing the moment his gaze shifted, the Allfather turned. Thor quickly snapped his eyes back to the front. But it was not on him that the Allfather’s eye fell.
“Loki, kneel before your king.”
A gasp came from the crowd, a brief muttering passing through the hall for the first time since the Allfather had called for silence. The Allfather had included no patronymic. To call a prince by only his first name in such a formal situation signaled a great disgrace, and Thor could hear the crowd as they questioned what Loki could possibly have done to warrant such treatment. He himself was in shock. First the Allfather’s talk of wars long since over, and now this?
Loki swallowed visibly, but his face remained still. He knelt as commanded. He did not speak.
The Allfather moved so that he was standing within arm’s reach of Loki, his back to the crowd. “This day has been long in coming, but it is now time for the truth to be known.” He reached forward, hands resting inches from Loki’s head. “I take from you your power!”
At first, Thor didn’t understand what was happening. What he was seeing, hearing, watching. The world narrowed, his senses fading away until all he could see was the Allfather’s hands. They glowed, a light surrounding them as he worked to remove Loki’s magic. Sound took a moment longer to process, before finally snapping back into place.
Screaming. Loki was screaming.
Now that it had returned, Thor wished for nothing more than his hearing to disappear once again. He surged forward, instinctively wanting to take whatever was causing Loki to make that noise and make it stop, but out of the corner of his eye he saw Sif frantically shaking her head. The sight startled him out of his half-mad resolution, (and that was a good thing, it was, he had been about to attack Father). For lack of any better ideas, he turned around to focus on his friends. They all looked as shocked as he felt. Volstagg’s mouth was open, Fandral was pale, and even Hogun’s normally impassive face showed signs of surprise.
He was still staring at them when the screaming stopped. He was still staring at them when the crowd went mad, shouting in horror. He was still staring at them when the first cries of “Jotun!” reached his ears.
Sif’s hand suddenly reached to her side, for the sword she was not carrying. Hogun made a similar gesture, before he too remembered that his weapon lay elsewhere. Volstagg gasped, and Fandral made an odd, choking noise before falling back into silence. All of them were staring past Thor, to where Father and Loki stood. Feeling as if every limb were weighted down by Mjolnir, Thor turned around.
Father was still standing there, hands outstretched in a parody of benediction. Where Loki had been kneeling mere moments before now lay a blue…creature. It was sprawled on the floor, breathing heavily, head down. Jotun. It had to be, (although it looked nothing like the Jotnar from the books, tall and hairless and all but naked). But if there was a Jotun on the dais, what had happened to…
The Jotun raised its head.
Thor knew the shape of those eyes, for all that their color had changed. Knew the planes of that face, the lines of the cheekbones, despite the swirling patterns overlaying them. Knew the expression, as the creature held its hands in front of its eyes and stared at the blue in horrified fascination.
The creature. Loki.