章 3: I Will Not Allow My People to Be Lost
Odin sat on his throne, his head in his hand as he watched his grandson pace the floor in front of the dais. He loved Loki, and never regretted taking him in when Thor had brought the babe to him. He had understood Thor’s need to exile himself. He’d so respected and admired his son for recognizing his errors and the ways and consequences of the Aesir gods.
But that was then.
Now, he longed for Thor’s return. Perhaps the boy’s own father could get through to him.
He closed his eyes, searching his heart and mind for the patience, the clarity, the right words so that Loki could see what Odin saw. So there might be peace and understanding between them. When he opened them again, he found Loki standing at the bottom of the dais, his arms crossed, his face a thundercloud. Odin sighed.
“I grow weary of this argument, my son,” Odin said.
Loki placed a foot on the first step and leaned forward. “I am not your son. If my father was here -”
Odin lifted his head and waved his hand. There was no magic in it, but he felt the essence of his home world, that part of him that gave him power, stir within him. “Your father is not here.” He stood, staring down the dark-haired man before him. “I have raised you in his stead, all these years. For all you have ever known - I am your father. Grant me the respect I deserve.”
Loki glared at him, and Odin prepared himself to respond to anything Loki might throw at him. But he eventually nodded and stood straight, his posture more relaxed than before. The response surprised Odin, but the relief he felt was almost palpable and he had to resist collapsing to his throne with the sudden release of it.
He should have known Loki would not be moved. He knew him better than anyone.
Loki stretched forth tendrils of essence, binding Odin to his chair while the younger man climbed the steps of the dais. “You give them too much freedom, Grandfather. Too much rope with which to hang themselves. They’ll never make it back home. You know our people. You know how weak they are.” His blue eyes, as cold and sharp as an ice-blade, peered into Odin’s, yet Odin made no move to defend himself.
“I do know our people. And I know you.” Odin’s voice remained calm, despite the rope of power that bound him. He did not wish for things to become even more difficult between them than they already had. “Our people are good - as are you.” He tried for a smile, hoping his meaning would carry through to his grandson’s heart. “You are perhaps the most headstrong of us - the most enamored of chaos and games. Yet you always land on the side of good. Why should you expect any less of our people? They test the limits of our rules even less than you do, so I am confident that most shall return to us.”
His words had hit their mark - he could feel the tendrils of power loosening, see the surprise in Loki’s softening gaze.
And he saw the moment Loki found the fault in his words. Odin inwardly cursed himself for the slip-up, but it was too late.
Loki tightened the bindings, leaning in so his face was mere inches from the god of Asgard. “Most shall return? How can you be satisfied with most?” The binds tightened again, and smoke drifted up between them as the essence burned into Odin’s clothing. “My father threw me away. Too caught up in his own self-righteousness that he abandoned his only child. And he was the great Thor!” Loki took on a fevered expression, and not for the first time Odin wondered at the stability of his mind, of his emotions. Chaos lived within his grandson and he feared it would one day overrule him.
“If the great Thor can break the rules - rules he helped create - how much greater risk are our people in? They will be as children, without knowledge or understanding of what is being asked of them.” His voice grew as he spoke, his face becoming redder with every word. “How can you do this to them?”
“Enough!” Odin let the spark of life that resided within him, his own reserve of essence, flare within him, breaking Loki’s bonds and sending his grandson hurtling backward. Now he stood, his staff gripped in his right hand as he towered over his grandson who lay on his back on the tiled floor.
“There must always be a choice. In everything. Even in this.” Odin paused, then offered his hand to Loki. “Even for you.”
Loki glared up at him, making no move to regain his feet. Making no move to take the hand Odin reached for him.
“You have never loved me the way I loved you,” Loki hissed in a hushed, hurt tone.
The accusation pained Odin because there was a measure of truth to it. He had loved Thor. Had loved him perhaps too much once they escaped the destruction of their home universe and the loss of Odin’s first wife. Thor had been everything a father could want in a son - good and glorious, his intelligence and kindness surpassing Odin’s own.
And then Thor had broken the bargain struck between the Aesir and Vanir gods when the Aesir had come begging, seeking asylum. Seeking a new home. Thor and Freya - even now, Odin had trouble accepting that love for a woman could ever come between the love a ruler must have for his people. But Loki was right - Thor had chosen Freya over the Gardians and together they had created a son. A son neither parent was able to raise or risk the dissolution of the bargain and worse, war.
As Odin considered his grandson, so fierce and dark, so unlike his own golden son, he realized that perhaps Loki had spoken more truth than he’d ever before cared to acknowledge. He dropped his hand and stepped back, letting his staff dissolve into light.
“You are right,” Odin said. “I have not loved you the way you deserved.”
At this admission, Loki moved into a crouch, his gaze uncertain. Wary.
“I resented you, a helpless baby. I blamed you for the loss of my own son. I saw you as a mistake.” While Odin spoke, Loki had slowly risen to his feet, and now the two men stood, bare feet apart, nearly identical eyes boring into one another. One pair filled with sorrow, the other with burgeoning rage.
“I always thought I treated you fairly. Raised you as a prince of the kingdom - everything a good grandfather, a good father, should do. But I see now that I withheld my love from you. And I am truly sorry.”
Loki took a step toward him, and for a moment, Odin dared to hope he might be forgiven. But Loki, quivering with rage, raised a fist - and Odin knew this battle was lost. Lost, but with no one the victor. He stepped forward, placed his hand over the clenched fist, and gently lowered it.
Loki glared at his grandfather for a moment, then took a deliberate step backward, straightening his shoulders. Odin watched him suppressing the fury that burned within him until only the hint of it burned in the cold embers of his eyes. “Then I must do what I must,” Loki said. “I will not allow our people to be lost to the stars forever. I will not a name allow them to ever feel alone or unworthy as I have felt my whole life.” Odin felt the sting of those words, but he held his tongue. “I will claim them for my own. Anyone who does not walk the impossible path you set for them, anyone who fails to live up to the glory you demand - they shall I name as my own.”
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