Chapter 9 : THE ALL-FATHER'S WRATH
The golden chamber was silent as a tomb.
Odin lay on the bed where Asgard's kings had slept their eternal sleeps for millennia—a raised platform surrounded by runes that pulsed with protective magic. His face was slack, peaceful in a way it never was while conscious. Gungnir rested at his side, the spear's power dimmed to a faint glow.
Frigga knelt beside him, holding his hand.
Loki stood in the doorway, watching the woman who'd raised him grieve over the man who'd lied to them both. The complexity of emotions in his chest defied easy categorization—relief that Odin wouldn't be watching him, fear of the responsibility about to fall on his shoulders, something almost like pity for the old king who'd tried to control everything and controlled nothing.
"How long?" His voice came out rougher than intended.
"Unknown." Frigga didn't look up. "His last Sleep lasted eight days. But he's older now, weaker. It could be longer."
Eight days. More if we're unlucky.
That's time. Time to prepare for Thor's return. Time to establish myself as a capable ruler. Time to ensure Frigga stays alive when the Dark Elves eventually come.
He crossed the chamber and knelt beside her. The gesture felt appropriate—son and mother, united in vigil over a fallen patriarch.
"Mother." He kept his voice low. "The realm needs leadership."
"I know." Her eyes remained fixed on Odin's face. "The council will expect someone to take the throne."
"They'll expect you."
"They'll accept you." She finally looked at him, and her eyes held the sharp calculation that had made her one of Asgard's most skilled political minds. "I've been preparing them. Mentioning your competence in discussions. Praising your analysis during recent events."
She's been positioning me. Even before Odin fell.
"You anticipated this."
"I'm a mother. We anticipate everything." A ghost of a smile crossed her face. "Including our children finally becoming who they're meant to be."
She believes in me. Genuinely believes.
Don't waste that.
"What do you need from me?"
"Survive the council meeting. Don't let them manipulate you into rash action. And..." She hesitated. "Don't become what your father feared."
"What did he fear?"
"That you would choose resentment over responsibility. That the shadows you carried would consume the light you also held." Her hand found his cheek—the same gesture she'd used in her chambers two days ago, warm and grounding. "I see the light winning, Loki. Don't prove me wrong."
I died in a car crash. I woke up in a god's body. I've been improvising for forty-eight hours.
But somehow, I'm not failing. Somehow, I'm becoming someone she can believe in.
"I won't."
The council chamber waited.
Loki had seen it in Loki's memories—a circular room dominated by a massive table, seats arranged for Asgard's highest nobility and military commanders. It was designed to intimidate, to remind everyone present that they served the throne rather than leading it.
Today, the throne's seat was empty. Loki stood beside it, not sitting—that would come later, with the formal ceremony. For now, he was simply the All-Father's voice while the All-Father slept.
Twelve faces watched him. Generals who'd fought in wars before his supposed grandfather was born. Nobles whose families had held power since Asgard's founding. Administrators who kept the realm functioning while warriors chased glory.
And all of them suspicious of the trickster prince who'd somehow ended up holding power.
"The All-Father's Sleep is a regenerative process," Loki began, letting Loki's memories guide his words. "He will wake. The realm will endure. Our duty is to ensure stability until he returns."
"And Thor?" Lord Tyr's voice was sharp with challenge. "The crown prince is exiled, the All-Father sleeps, and we're to trust the second son to guide us?"
Direct attack. Establish dominance or lose control of the room.
"The crown prince was exiled for recklessly invading a sovereign realm and nearly restarting a war that killed tens of thousands of Asgardians." Loki let his voice harden. "I'm not sure 'trust' is the appropriate framework for someone who demonstrated such spectacular judgment."
Murmurs around the table. Some agreeing, some offended on Thor's behalf.
"Thor's exile is temporary," Lady Sigyn said. "His return—"
"Is uncertain." Loki cut her off smoothly. "He must prove himself worthy of Mjolnir before he can return. That might take days. It might take decades. It might never happen. Planning around Thor's imminent redemption is optimistic bordering on foolish."
"And what would you have us plan around, my prince?" General Váli's tone dripped contempt. "Your schemes? Your tricks? The realm needs strength, not cleverness."
Remember what Frigga said. Don't let them manipulate you into rash action.
But also don't let them walk over you.
"Strength kept Jotunheim contained for a thousand years," Loki acknowledged. "And strength—Thor's strength—nearly destroyed that containment in a single afternoon. Perhaps cleverness has value that strength alone cannot provide."
"You propose to rule through trickery?"
"I propose to rule through whatever works." He let his gaze sweep the room, meeting each pair of eyes. "I am not my brother. I won't pretend to be. I don't swing hammers or summon lightning. But I've studied our enemies while others trained for glory. I know things about the threats facing this realm that Thor never bothered to learn."
"Such as?" Lord Tyr leaned forward, openly skeptical.
Time to demonstrate value.
"Such as the fact that Jotunheim's infiltration wasn't a random act of aggression." Loki pulled memories from his academic study of the MCU, translating them into intelligence that would sound credible. "Laufey is patient. He's been rebuilding strength for centuries, waiting for an opportunity. The vault breach was a test—probing our defenses, measuring our response time, identifying weaknesses."
"You have evidence of this?"
"I have analysis. And analysis suggests that we haven't seen the last of Jotunheim's interest in Asgard's treasures."
The room fell silent. Loki could see minds working—generals reassessing threat assessments, nobles calculating political implications, everyone adjusting their view of the prince who'd just demonstrated unexpected competence.
"You paint a concerning picture," Lady Sigyn said slowly. "If Laufey truly plans further aggression..."
"Then we prepare. Quietly. Without the kind of dramatic response that Thor would have provided." Loki allowed himself a thin smile. "Sometimes the best defense is one your enemy doesn't know you're building."
More murmurs. The tone had shifted—still wary, still suspicious, but now tinged with something approaching interest.
"The council acknowledges Prince Loki as regent during the All-Father's Sleep," Lord Tyr said finally, his voice grudging. "May his wisdom prove sufficient to the task."
Wisdom. Not strength. They're already changing expectations.
Good.
"One more matter." Loki voice stopped the council members who'd begun to rise. "Thor remains on Midgard, powerless, surrounded by mortals. He may face dangers there that he cannot handle without his abilities."
"You suggest sending aid?" General Váli's eyebrows rose. "To a banished prince?"
"I suggest monitoring the situation. Heimdall can watch. If Thor faces true peril—the kind that might kill him before he has a chance to prove worthy—we should know."
"And then?"
"And then I decide whether Asgard's future king is worth saving." Loki met Váli's eyes without flinching. "Thor is reckless, arrogant, and profoundly unready for the throne. He's also my brother. If there's a way to help him survive long enough to become the king this realm needs, I'll find it."
The council chamber emptied slowly, nobles and generals filtering out with calculating glances and whispered conversations. Loki stood beside the empty throne until only he and the silence remained.
First test passed. They don't trust me, but they're not actively opposing me either.
Now comes the harder part.
He walked to the chamber's window, looking out over Asgard's golden spires. Somewhere on Earth, Thor was probably confused, angry, struggling to understand a world where his strength meant nothing. The Destroyer sat dormant in the vault—the original Loki had sent it to kill Thor, to eliminate the competition for Odin's love.
I won't do that. Thor needs to prove himself worthy on his own, without interference.
But I will watch. And when he succeeds—because he will succeed—I'll be ready to welcome my brother home.
The sunset painted the sky in shades of red and gold. Loki watched it alone, wearing a dead man's face, planning a future the dead man had never imagined.
Behind him, the throne waited.
It could wait a little longer.
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