Loki's fingers closed around the leather-wrapped handle of Mjolnir, the rough, ancient texture cool against his palm. He straightened, his sharp green eyes narrowing as he tightened his grip, the smooth leather creaking faintly beneath his touch.
For a brief, flickering moment, he allowed himself to imagine it — the rush of power, the crackle of lightning surging through his veins, the raw, unbridled might of the God of Thunder at his command.
He smirked, the corners of his mouth curling up in a sly, self-satisfied grin.
"Come now," he whispered, his voice low and smooth, his words a soft, venomous hiss. "Let us see if I am as unworthy as my brother."
He tightened his grip, his long, slender fingers flexing around the handle as he braced himself, his muscles tensing, his jaw clenching, his sharp, elegant features twisting into a mask of cold, calculated determination.
He pulled.
Nothing happened.
His eyes narrowed further, his fingers tightening around the creaking leather as he poured more strength into his arm, shoulders shifting, back straightening, breath coming in slow, controlled bursts.
Still nothing.
Loki's expression twisted into a snarl, sharp green eyes blazing with sudden, fierce anger. He pulled harder, slender frame trembling with effort, teeth grinding, muscles straining, veins standing out against his pale, flawless skin.
Still nothing.
The hammer remained as still and unmovable as a mountain, as unyielding as the very roots of Yggdrasil itself, its dark, rune-etched metal gleaming mockingly in the harsh sunlight.
The hammer remained as unmoving as a mountain, as unyielding as the roots of Yggdrasil itself, its dark, rune-etched metal gleaming mockingly in the harsh sunlight.
With a frustrated hiss, Loki released his grip, long fingers unfurling from the leather-wrapped handle. He straightened, his cloak swirling around him like the shadow of a serpent as he stepped back from the pedestal, sharp eyes never leaving the hammer's unyielding form.
For a long, silent moment, he simply stared at it, his angular features settling into a mask of cold, detached indifference.
"Very well," he whispered, voice low and venomous, a bitter smirk twisting his lips. "Enjoy your rest, Mjolnir. Enjoy being a toy for every filthy mortal of Midgard."
-----
Loki's arrival in Asgard was marked by the familiar, resonant hum of the Bifrost, the swirling rainbow energy coalescing around him as he stepped onto the polished floor of the observatory. He straightened, brushing an imaginary speck of dust from his dark green and gold robes, eyes already sharp with thought.
Heimdall stood at the edge of the great platform, his golden eyes fixed on the distant, shimmering tendrils of the Bifrost as they retracted into the great dome above. His massive, intricately engraved sword rested point down against the floor, his armored form as unyielding and immovable as the mountains of Jotunheim.
"Welcome back, my king," Heimdall intoned, his deep, resonant voice echoing through the massive chamber. There was a note of formality in his tone, a subtle, carefully measured respect that only served to remind Loki of his precarious position as acting ruler.
Loki approached, his boots clicking sharply against the polished floor as he stepped into the light. He paused a few feet from the guardian, his sharp, emerald eyes narrowing slightly as he considered the imposing figure before him.
"Heimdall," he said, his voice smooth, almost casual, though his mind was anything but. "I find myself curious. I have just returned from Midgard, from a place called Camelot, ruled by a certain Arthuria Pendragon. Tell me… what do you know of this so-called king?"
Heimdall's golden eyes remained fixed on the distant, shimmering threads of the Bifrost for a moment longer before slowly turning to regard Loki. There was a slight, almost imperceptible tightening of his jaw, a subtle shift in his posture that did not escape Loki's notice.
"Camelot." Heimdall said at last, his voice as steady as the great stones beneath their feet. "It is a new realm, one that appeared seemingly overnight. I have watched it grow from nothing to a mighty kingdom in the blink of an eye. Its ruler, this Arthuria Pendragon, is an enigma. She came from nowhere, a figure of power and purpose, a goddess by her own claim, yet unknown to the ancient scrolls of Asgard."
Loki's eyes narrowed, his sharp mind already working through the implications. A goddess appearing out of nowhere, building a kingdom overnight? That was no small feat. Even for a being as powerful as he, such a thing would be difficult, if not impossible.
"And what do you know of her?" Loki pressed, tone sharpening, fingers curling into loose fists at his sides. "What is her nature? Her power? Where did she come from?"
Heimdall hesitated, his golden eyes flicking back to the Bifrost, his jaw tightening ever so slightly. "I know little, my king. She is a being of great power, but her nature is… unclear. She seems to be native to Midgard, but unknown to us, which should be impossible. She is a mystery, yet she wields weapons of great power. She is dangerous."
Loki's jaw clenched, a flicker of irritation flashing across his sharp features. For Heimdall to admit that he didn't know of her was significant. He had watched the Nine Realm for countless years, and yet he knew nothing?
Clearly, there was a great mystery afoot here. "And what of my father?" Loki continued, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous murmur. "Did he know of her? To send Thor to her domain, he must trust that he would be safe there, so why?"
Heimdall's gaze flicked back to Loki, his golden eyes unreadable. "If the All-Father knew of her, he did not share that knowledge with me. But then, there were many secrets he kept, even from those closest to him."
Loki's lips curled into a thin, bitter smile, his mind racing with a thousand new questions, each one more troubling than the last. Odin, keeping secrets? Indeed, he had kept plenty, even the truth of his birth was a secret… so what was one more?
"Very well," Loki said at last, his tone sharp, dismissive. "Thank you, Heimdall."
He turned sharply, cloak swirling around him as he strode toward the exit, mind already turning to his next move. If Heimdall did not have the answers he sought, perhaps his mother would.
…
Loki found his mother where he had seen her last, tending to his father. Odin, the all-father as he slept the Odin sleep.
On his way here, he had heard from the guards that she hadn't left his side even once. He couldn't help but feel bad. Here she was, so worried; it must truly be bad then… he didn't know what to think about Odin…
He was his father in all but blood… yet blood was important, he had cared for him… but had he ever fully trusted him? Approved of him? Or was he just a pet? Kept out of pity?
"Loki," she said, her voice warm, affectionate, but with an edge of caution that did not escape his notice. "You have returned."
The soft voice of his mother broke him out of his dark thoughts. She truly was a light in the darkness. A soft flame that warmed the heart. Never had he felt anything but love and care from her. She truly was kind and gentle, the perfect mother.
"Mother," he said, his voice smooth, his tone light, almost casual, as if he were merely discussing the weather. "I have returned."
Frigga's sharp, perceptive eyes flicked over him, her gaze taking in every minute detail of his posture, his expression, the slight tension in his shoulders. Then, without a word, she stepped up and hugged him.
"And where have you been, my son?" she asked, her voice warm, but with a hint of curiosity, her hands still resting gently on the side of Odin's golden, rune-etched bed. "You left without a word."
Loki returned his mother's embrace, his long, slender arms wrapping around her in a gesture that, while genuine, still held a certain measure of restraint. He allowed himself to lean into her warmth for just a moment, letting the familiar, comforting scent of her hair and the gentle pressure of her hands on his back wash over him before gently pulling back, his sharp, angular features settling into a carefully measured smile.
"I merely wished to see my brother," he replied smoothly, his voice light, almost casual, as if his words held no great significance. "To see that he was well… that his exile had not… broken him."
Frigga's eyes softened, a small, relieved smile touching her lips as she regarded her son, head tilting slightly, golden hair shimmering in the dim, flickering light of the chamber.
"That was kind of you," she said with a warm, affectionate voice, her eyes shining with a mixture of pride and relief. "I know you and Thor have not always seen eye to eye, but it pleases me to know that you still care for your brother."
Loki's smile widened, his sharp, angular features settling into a mask of carefully measured sincerity, his sharp green eyes glinting with a faint, almost playful light.
"Of course, Mother," he replied smoothly, his tone light, unbothered, as if his words held no great significance. "He is my brother, after all, and while we may not always agree, I would not wish for him to suffer alone on this strange, mortal realm."
Frigga's smile grew, eyes shining with genuine warmth as she regarded her son, head tilting slightly to the side, golden hair falling in soft, shimmering waves around her shoulders.
"I am glad to hear it," she said softly, voice warm, tone gentle, her gaze filled with a mother's love. "It pleases me to see you acting as a true prince of Asgard, as a true son of Odin."
Loki inclined his head, dark hair brushing against his shoulders as he allowed himself a small, almost genuine smile, his sharp features softening for just a moment, the carefully constructed mask slipping just a fraction.
"But…" Frigga's eyes narrowed slightly, a small, playful glint sparking in their depths as she regarded her son with a mixture of curiosity and amusement. "I sense there is more to this visit than a simple check on your brother's well-being. You have the look of a man with many questions, my son."
Loki's smile tightened, his sharp eyes flicking to his mother's perceptive gaze, long fingers twitching slightly at his sides as he considered his next words carefully.
"Indeed, Mother," he said at last, his voice smooth, his tone light, almost playful. "I must admit, I find myself… intrigued by a certain… presence I encountered on Midgard. A goddess, or so she claims, by the name of Arthuria Pendragon. She rules a realm called Albion, a city she calls Camelot, and… she is unlike any being I have ever encountered."
Frigga's eyes widened slightly, lips parting in surprise, hands tightening just a fraction around the edges of her flowing, golden sleeves as she regarded her son with a mixture of curiosity and intrigue.
"A goddess?" she repeated, her voice low, almost whispering, her sharp, perceptive eyes never leaving Loki's angular features. "On Midgard? How… unexpected."
Loki inclined his head, eyes gleaming with a mixture of curiosity and cunning. He hadn't expected even his mother to be unaware of this… Clearly, whatever secret his father had been keeping was rather important to him.
"Indeed," he replied smoothly, his voice low, almost conspiratorial. "She is… a fascinating creature, Mother. Beautiful, powerful, a ruler of mortals, yet with the bearing and presence of a true goddess. I admit, I find myself… curious as to her origins, her purpose, her place in the grand scheme of things."
Frigga's eyes sparkled with a mixture of amusement and genuine interest, head tilting slightly to the side as she regarded her son, lips curling into a small, playful smile.
"Oh?" she said, voice light, teasing, tone carrying a hint of motherly affection and gentle mockery. "And here I thought you had no interest in such things, my son. I had begun to worry that you would never find anyone to catch your interest. But now, it seems you have found a woman who intrigues you, a goddess no less."
Loki's eyes widened slightly, sharp features twisting into a mask of faint, almost indignant surprise, long fingers tightening slightly at his sides as he regarded his mother's playful, knowing smile.
"Mother," he said, his voice low, almost scandalized, his sharp, green eyes narrowing slightly as he took a small, indignant step back. "I assure you, my interest in this Arthuria is purely… academic. I merely wish to understand her, to know what threat or opportunity she may present to Asgard."
Frigga's smile widened, her eyes sparkling with a mixture of genuine amusement and motherly affection as she reached out to gently clasp her son's shoulder, her long, slender fingers resting lightly against the dark, polished fabric of his robes.
"Of course, my son," she said softly, her voice warm, her tone light, almost teasing. "But still, it warms my heart to see you take an interest in someone, even if it is a… purely academic interest, as you say."
Loki's lips tightened, eyes narrowing slightly as he regarded his mother's playful, knowing smile, sharp features settling into a mask of carefully measured, faintly indignant composure.
"Indeed," he replied smoothly, voice cool, tone sharp, eyes flicking away from his mother's amused, sparkling gaze. "Purely academic."
Frigga let out a soft, musical laugh, her eyes shining with genuine amusement as she gave her son's shoulder a small, affectionate squeeze, her head tilting slightly to the side as she regarded him with a mixture of motherly affection and gentle mockery.
"Oh, Loki," she said softly, her voice warm, her tone light, almost teasing. "You always were a terrible liar."
(end of chapter)
So, Loki is back, but he isn't finished, he will try to find out about Arthuria, and him being curious about a woman, how can his mother not tease him about it.
I thought about showing his mother off differently, but given this is halfway Loki's pov of things, I figured that his mother should be perfect, like he sees her.
As the queen of gods, she isn't foolish; she likely isn't blind to what is going on, what is happening, but she is hiding it. Why? Well, why not?
She gets nothing from showing that she knows, better let her kids fight and step in to pick up the pieces and act and make things worse, kids should solve their own problems without adults messing with things.