In the throne room of Asgard, Loki sat quietly upon the throne.
His mind was in turmoil. Just moments ago, he had argued with his father—and for the first time, he had learned the truth: he was not Odin's son, as he had always believed, but the child of the Frost Titans' leader.
His heart was shattered. Everything he once held dear had crumbled—the majestic father he had admired, the loving mother who had cherished him, and the older brother he had always competed with. It was all gone now.
He wasn't a prince.
He was just a bastard—left behind by the Frost Titans.
He remembered learning about the Frost Titans in Asgardian history classes as a child. The stories were never kind. He had always taken pride in being the son of Odin, the great God-King of Asgard.
But now... all of that had been stripped away.
His blood was that of a lowly Frost Titan.
Overnight, he had lost everything.
For a fleeting moment, even the throne of Asgard lost its appeal.
For years, he had chased that throne—not because he craved power, but because he had longed to be seen. To be acknowledged. To be loved. As the second son, all he ever wanted was to prove his worth—to show he was just as excellent, just as deserving, as his golden-haired brother.
But now, that chance was gone forever. No matter what he did, he could never be more than a discarded relic of Asgard's enemy.
What did it matter if a bastard was excellent or not?
Suddenly, the sound of hurried footsteps echoed through the hall. The Three Warriors of Asgard and the warrior goddess Sif entered side by side.
"Father, we need to speak with you urgently!" one of them called out.
But the moment they saw who was sitting on the throne, they froze.
It wasn't Odin.
It was Loki.
"My friends," Loki said, gathering himself. He looked at them with a smile, composed and formal. "You seem surprised."
"Where is Odin?" someone asked, confused.
"Father is still unconscious," Loki replied calmly. "And Mother fears he may never awaken. She is with him now. What brings you here?"
"We want to speak with her," Sif said.
"She refuses to leave Father's side," Loki replied coldly. "You bring matters of urgency—then bring them to me. I am your king now."
The group exchanged uncertain glances. After a brief silence, they knelt together.
"Our king," they said in unison, "we beg you to reverse Thor's banishment."
Loki's smile vanished.
He scoffed and said, "My first decree cannot violate the command of the former king. We were on the brink of war with the Frost Titans. In these unstable times, people need stability. Continuity. We must unite—for the sake of Asgard's realm."
Once, he might have granted this request.
Back when he still believed he was Odin's son, before he had learned the truth, before he'd been consumed by betrayal.
But now—everything had changed.
He wouldn't allow Thor to return.
He would claim the throne for himself—not for validation, but for vengeance.
His attachment to his family was already crumbling, and now, his ambitions were beginning to flourish.
If once he competed for the throne to win his parents' approval, now he wanted to take it because of what had been denied him. The years of suppressed ambition, the years of being second best—all of it exploded to the surface under the pressure of recent events.
If they refused to give him the throne—even in death choosing Thor over him—then he would destroy that dream entirely.
I am the rightful king of Asgard, Loki thought bitterly.
In that moment, Loki's ambition solidified, and his hatred for his Frost Giant blood deepened. The pride he once felt in Asgard's glory twisted into something darker, something venomous.
Goddess Sif stepped forward, attempting to protest, but the two warriors beside her quickly pulled her back.
"Easy now," one of them whispered.
They knew better than to provoke Loki now.
"Then wait for my answer," Loki said, his voice like ice.
"If I may beg Your Majesty to reconsider…" Volstagg tried to plead.
But Loki cut him off harshly: "Enough. I said shut up!"
Seeing that Loki could not be reasoned with, the group reluctantly turned and left.
But Loki knew this wasn't the end of it.
He knew these companions of Thor would never give up. They had grown up together—they understood one another too well.
Just like they saw through his excuse, he also saw through theirs.
They would go looking for Thor. That much was inevitable.
He recalled what his mother had said when he last saw her.
The same tired lines. You are our son. We love you. You are our family.
But he could feel the truth behind her words. Deep down, what they truly cared about was Thor.
Even Odin—he was planning something.
Loki had always known that his father held idealistic fantasies about Thor. Frigga had always believed in Loki, but even she couldn't change Odin's favoritism.
And now?
Now, Loki would sever that hope with his own hands.
"Stupid big brother… You'd better stay on Earth," he muttered under his breath. "If I can help it, I don't want to kill you. But you don't want to be king of Asgard anyway, do you?"
The throne room fell silent again, save for Loki's voice echoing off the marble walls.
"Perfect. You stay on Midgard with your mortals. As for me—I'll rule Asgard."
He stared into the distance.
"Mother… I'll prove to you that I am your most exceptional son. Not that oaf."
Meanwhile…
Late at night, in a base room in New Mexico, Thor lay on his back, staring blankly at the ceiling, disbelief clouding his expression.
He still couldn't accept it.
He couldn't even lift Mjolnir.
Had his father truly given up on him?
Or… was it just as Rowan had written in the diary? A test?
If it was a test… how was he supposed to pass?
The thought gave him a pounding headache.
"Big brother!"
Suddenly, a familiar voice rang out.
Thor turned toward it—and his eyes widened.
It was him.
His mischievous younger brother, the God of Mischief—Loki.
He never expected to see him here… and in that moment, joy flickered in Thor's eyes.
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