Chapter Text
Loki frowned as he walked down the hall to his father’s study. What could Father be calling him for? He had kept his mischief toned down since the incident with the dwarves. His tutors all remarked he did well in his studies and as did his trainers. He paused before the door, straightened his posture, took a deep breath and knocked.
“Come in.” His father called from the other side, his voice as clear as day. Loki entered. His father stood before his desks, jotting something down on parchment. He wore his casual clothing, armor removed, and looking far less imposing than Loki had ever seen him. “Loki, my son.” He greeted with smile.
Loki returned it, feeling the smile on his lips strain. No! His father would believe he did not want to be here. He licked his lips and smiled again. His father paused then continued walking toward him, pulling him in an embrace he long had forgotten he missed. He returned it, nonetheless, with a contained enthusiasm.
He was not in trouble. Quite the opposite! He tried to keep from fidgeting but he found that he could not remember what it was like being at ease in his father’s presence. The last few centuries he had spent more time with his father in formal settings rather than in their private quarters. Most of that time had been spent with Thor or Mother. It was understandable.
Mother was his spouse and co-ruler. Thor was his heir. Loki was the spare, at least politically speaking. His father had attended his naming day feasts and had even gifted him with his current spear. He was a good father, when the affairs of the court allowed him. He should be grateful for this time.
He didn’t know why it left him with a sickly-sweet taste on his mouth, like the stench of putrefaction congealing on his tongue. He swallowed and let himself enjoy the moment. He had doubts, of course he did, that his family did not love him, like him even. He knew it had to be wrong. Did not this moment prove it? Or Mother’s smiles? Or Thor’s-Thor’s, well Thor’s affection was heavy handed at best.
He was so very different from them all and most of Asgard. It would be understandable even that his friends, though few and far between, much less his parents, could relate to him as easily as each other. His tutors tried but failed for all their knowledge in magic. The women tutors did not want to be bothered with him.
When his father pulled back, Loki made himself relax. A flutter of excitement stirred in his stomach, the same sensation that he remembered from when he was small and realized that Father (Father!) wanted to be with him.