Two days had passed since the return from Jotunheim. Vidar had been busy preparing the return of the Casket of Ancient Winters, just as he had promised Laufey. The artifact was secured in the vaults and needed to be transported safely.
But there was something else on his mind. Something he knew he would eventually have to address.
Loki.
In the canon he knew, Loki would discover his Jotun origin by accident during a Frost Giant invasion of Asgard. The shock and sense of betrayal would lead him down a dark path: attempting to use the Bifrost to destroy Jotunheim, the conflict with Thor, his fall into the void.
Vidar had the opportunity to change that. To control how and when Loki learned the truth.
But as he walked toward the vaults that afternoon, he heard something that made his blood run cold.
Screams.
Not of pain. Of anguish.
He ran toward the source of the sound, and what he saw stopped him in his tracks.
Loki was on his knees in front of the Casket of Ancient Winters. The artifact was open, emanating its characteristic cold. And Loki's hands, which had touched the casket…
They were blue.
Loki's skin had transformed, spreading from his hands up his arms, crawling along his neck toward his face. Deep blue with intricate patterns—the mark of the Frost Giants of Jotunheim.
"No… no, no, no…" Loki murmured, staring at his transformed hands in absolute horror. "What am I? WHAT AM I?"
His eyes—now red like those of all Jotun—filled with tears.
Vidar approached slowly, carefully.
"Loki…"
Loki turned sharply toward him, and the expression on his face was pure pain.
"You knew?" his voice trembled. "YOU KNEW WHAT I WAS?"
Vidar did not lie.
"Yes."
The word fell like a hammer.
Loki rose shakily, his skin still blue, his red eyes blazing with betrayal.
"How long?" his voice rose. "How long have you known?"
"Since I took the Vidarforce," Vidar replied calmly. "Odin's memories showed me the truth."
Loki laughed—a broken, humorless laugh.
"Of course. Of course you knew. Everyone knew, didn't they? Odin. Frigga. You. Everyone except me."
His hands trembled as he looked at his blue skin.
"I'm a monster. A Jotun. The enemy. All this time…" his voice broke, "all this time it was a lie."
He staggered backward, leaning against the wall.
"Why? Why did Odin take me? To torture me? To mock me?"
Vidar stepped closer, keeping his voice calm and steady.
"Because Odin found you abandoned in a temple in Jotunheim after the war. You were a baby, small by Jotun standards. Laufey left you there to die."
Loki looked at him with eyes full of tears.
"Laufey? King Laufey is…?"
"Your biological father, yes," Vidar confirmed.
Loki slid down the wall until he was sitting on the floor, his skin beginning to return to its normal Asgardian tone now that he was no longer touching the casket.
"So not even my own father wanted me," he whispered. "He abandoned me. And Odin… Odin took me as… what? A war trophy? A political tool?"
He covered his face with his hands.
"I don't belong anywhere. I'm not Asgardian. I'm not Jotun. I'm nothing."
Vidar sat down on the floor beside him, something that surprised Loki enough for him to lower his hands.
"You're wrong," Vidar said softly.
"Wrong?" Loki laughed bitterly. "About which part? That I'm a monster? That my whole life has been a lie?"
"That you're nothing," Vidar replied, looking straight at him. "You are Loki. My brother. And that is not a lie."
Loki stared at him, his expression a mixture of pain and confusion.
"How can you say that? We don't share blood. I'm not really your brother. I'm the son of the enemy who—"
"You are my brother," Vidar interrupted firmly. "Not by blood, but by choice. By years lived together. By moments shared. That is more real than any blood bond."
He leaned forward.
"Loki, your origin does not define who you are. You define who you are. Yes, you were born Jotun. But you grew up in Asgard. You have been shaped by both cultures, even if you didn't know it. That doesn't make you less—it makes you more."
Loki shook his head, tears still streaming down his cheeks.
"How can I believe that when my whole life has been deception? When every time Odin spoke of the Jotun as monsters, he was talking about me without knowing it."
"I know," Vidar said. "And Odin was wrong about many things. About how he raised you. About not telling you the truth. About making you feel like you had to compete with Thor for love and recognition."
He paused.
"But that doesn't change the fact that you are my brother. Nothing will change that. Not your origin, not Odin's lies, not anything."
Loki looked at him for a long moment, processing the words.
"Why didn't you tell me?" he finally asked, his voice calmer but still full of pain. "If you knew, why didn't you tell me sooner?"
Vidar considered the question carefully.
"Because I wanted to find the right moment. The right way. I didn't want you to discover it in the worst possible way, alone and without support."
END OF CHAPTER
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