Chapter 756

There was no need to explain the obvious. Loki was standing right here, alive and well, which meant his earlier death had been an elaborate fake. Even if he wasn’t as strong as Thor, the God of Mischief dying to a sneak attack from some nameless grunt was difficult to believe.

The real reason he’d faked his death was much simpler.

Sif had mentioned that a big guy was about to show up. Loki had immediately assumed she meant the Hulk. Remembering several deeply unpleasant experiences involving that particular green giant, he’d decided that leaving the area at once was the wisest course of action.

Besides, once the fighting was over, he knew exactly what awaited him. He’d outlived his usefulness, and Odin would have him thrown back into a cell. If he wanted to preserve his freedom, now was the time to disappear.

So Loki had staged his own death.

Another successful day of making his brother’s life miserable. One for one.

Not long after Thor and the others departed, however, a contingent of Einherjar sent by Odin arrived. Watching them approach, Loki had a sudden, audacious thought.

Why flee into exile when he could become king?

He quickly put together a new scheme. Catching one of the Einherjar off guard, he killed the warrior and transformed the body to resemble his own. Then he assumed the dead warrior’s appearance and returned with the others to Asgard.

He even managed to persuade them to let him deliver the mission report to Odin alone.

The others didn’t suspect a thing. In fact, they were delighted to let him handle the job.

Odin might not have favored Loki, but he was still the king’s son. Imagine having to tell the All-Father that his second son was dead. That was hardly a pleasant assignment.

Worse, their mission had been to reinforce Thor and his companions. Now they had returned with neither prince in tow, no sign of the enemy, and nothing to show for their efforts except a corpse.

Their report would amount to this: We went out, failed to find the first prince, watched the second prince die, and came home with his body.

It was practically an invitation to be executed.

The thought alone made the entire squad feel a chill creep up the backs of their necks. So when their disguised companion volunteered to speak to Odin, they stared at him with the solemn respect usually reserved for a condemned man.

You’re a brave soul, brother. We’ll remember you.

Loki, meanwhile, was delighted when he finally entered the throne room alone.

Odin sat on his throne, fully armored and holding Gungnir. The king was old, but he was still Odin. Loki had expected a brutal fight, perhaps even a humiliating defeat. On the way to the throne room, he’d repeatedly reconsidered his plan, weighing the odds and wondering whether he ought to turn around and run.

But the moment he’d been waiting for had arrived.

He approached the throne, lowered his head, and began recounting the events of the mission.

As Odin’s attention wandered for the briefest instant, Loki sprang forward and struck.

And somehow, impossibly, it worked.

Odin didn’t shout. He didn’t call for guards. He didn’t even make a sound of protest.

He simply went down.

Loki stared at him.

That was it?

He had been prepared for a desperate struggle, yet he’d subdued the All-Father in a single move. For several bewildered seconds, he could only look at the motionless king on the floor.

Then, naturally, he arrived at the most reasonable explanation available to him.

Years of using Thor as a training partner must have sharpened his ambush techniques to the point of perfection.

It was the only explanation he could think of, and he was in no position to investigate further.

Loki immediately cast an illusion, transforming himself into Odin. He then changed the fallen king’s appearance to match that of an Einherjar.

After taking a moment to imitate Odin’s familiar bearing, he swept onto the throne and settled into it with all the arrogance he could muster.

Then he summoned the squad waiting anxiously outside.

The Einherjar entered and knelt before their king, pale with dread.

Loki regarded them coldly.

"This warrior failed to perform his duties and dared to speak disrespectfully in the presence of the king. By rights, he should be executed. However, in recognition of his years of service, I shall show mercy. His sentence is reduced to exile in Midgard. He will remain there for the rest of his life, and no pardon shall permit his return to Asgard."

He delivered the judgment with just the right mixture of anger and magnanimity, making it sound as though Odin himself had spoken.

The kneeling warriors had already resigned themselves to death. When no punishment came, they nearly collapsed with relief.

They bowed repeatedly, thanked their merciful king, and hurried to carry the condemned warrior away.

That warrior, of course, was Odin.

They loaded the unconscious king onto the transport and rushed him to the Bifrost. Once his figure disappeared into the rainbow-lit passage, the soldiers exchanged looks of profound gratitude toward the supposed comrade who had taken the blame for them all.

What a brother.

He had sacrificed himself to protect the entire squad.

They couldn’t repay him, but they could at least make a solemn promise to take care of his family.

The thought was touching.

The fact that their beloved comrade was actually the king they’d just exiled was a detail none of them would discover until much later.

Not long afterward, Thor and his companions returned to Asgard in triumph.

Loki hadn’t anticipated that Evenson would accompany them. He also knew nothing about Odin’s promise concerning Midgard, much less the ceremony that was supposed to mark the transfer of authority there. For a brief moment, the unexpected developments nearly exposed his deception.

Fortunately, he managed to keep his composure and talk his way through the awkwardness.

Once the unnecessary attendants had left and he was alone with Thor, however, Loki’s enthusiasm returned in full force.

He began addressing his brother as my son at every opportunity, savoring each repetition with almost embarrassing delight. His performance improved by the minute, and Thor, bless him, bought it completely.

Loki then employed a little strategic encouragement, pretending to resist the idea of letting Thor leave before finally granting him permission to return to Earth.

There, Thor could resume his romance with Jane Foster to his heart’s content.

Once his elder brother had departed, Loki released a long, shuddering breath.

At last, the throne beneath him felt solid.

With every obstacle apparently out of the way, he settled back and allowed himself to enjoy the moment.

He was king.

Actually king.

The thought brought a genuine smile to his face. Then, for one brief moment, his expression softened.

If only Mother were here to share this with him.

Footsteps sounded behind the throne.

Loki turned.

The moment he saw who had entered the hall, his soul nearly left his body.

Mother? But you’re supposed to be dead!

His mind ground to a halt.

Frigga, entirely unaware of the crisis unfolding inside her son’s head, walked over and sat beside him as though she belonged there. She poured herself a drink, then reached over and playfully brushed at Loki.

The newly crowned king suddenly found his throne considerably less comfortable. It felt as though someone had replaced the cushions with a bed of needles.

He accepted the cup she offered him, trying desperately to maintain his regal composure.

Stay calm. Don’t give yourself away.

He raised the cup to his lips.

Frigga’s eyes abruptly fixed on his hand.

Her expression changed.

Loki’s stomach dropped.

That’s it. I’m finished.

His mother had taught him magic. She had taught him illusions. If anyone could see through his disguise, it was her.

But what happened next was even worse.

Frigga knocked the cup from his hand.

The wine struck the floor and began to hiss. Purple vapor curled upward from the spilled liquid, and Loki recognized it immediately.

The wine of the Lord of Pride.

His eyes widened.

That was poison of a particularly vicious kind. He wouldn’t merely die if he drank it. He suspected that letting a single drop touch his tongue would be enough.

He barely had time to react before Frigga slapped him across the face.

The blow shattered his illusion.

Loki spun halfway around in his seat. When he finally faced her again, he was still dazed, but his familiar smile had somehow returned.

"Surprise?"

Smack!

Frigga struck him again.

This time, Loki spun in the opposite direction.

"You... you..."

He clutched both burning cheeks, his eyes watering with outrage.

His father had never hit him.

"Are you really my mother?"

Frigga settled herself comfortably on the throne and turned to stare at him.

"What do you think?"

Loki hesitated, then cautiously extended one finger and poked her shoulder twice.

"But you were supposed to..."

"Be dead?" Frigga finished with a cold smile. "If I hadn’t pretended to be dead, do you think you would have obediently gone to help Thor?"

Loki’s face fell.

From this day forward, he would have to reconsider his professional title.

He might have managed to fool Thor a few times, but everyone else seemed to be playing him for a fool.

"Unfilial son!" Frigga suddenly thundered, her eyes blazing. "Tell me where your father is. Have you murdered him?"

"No! Absolutely not!" Loki protested, shaking his head so vigorously that his horns might as well have been rattling. "I only sealed his memories and sent him to Earth!"

He stopped.

His gaze drifted toward the spilled wine.

Then he looked back at his mother, and something changed in his expression.

Wait a minute.

What right did she have to accuse him of anything? He’d merely sent Odin to Earth with his memories sealed. Frigga, on the other hand, had apparently been about to poison her own husband.

In Loki’s mind, his mother had always been the embodiment of kindness and virtue, a loving wife and a compassionate goddess.

Yet here she was, standing on the brink of what might have become a murder scene.

Who knew Mother had this side to her?

It was a revelation.

And, strangely enough, it made Loki feel a little sorry for Odin.

Consider the family he’d ended up with. Loki was openly plotting to seize the throne. Thor had abandoned his royal duties to pursue a human woman on Earth, leaving his family and kingdom behind without a second thought. And now Frigga, the one person Loki had considered entirely respectable, had nearly poisoned her husband.

What a collection of ungrateful, disloyal children and treacherous relatives.

Loki found himself wondering how Odin had survived family life for so many millennia.

Frigga, meanwhile, had finally begun to recover from the shock of learning what Loki had done.

"You nearly ruined everything," she said, letting out a long breath.

Then she noticed the look he was giving her and narrowed her eyes.

"And don’t look at me like that. The wine of the Lord of Pride is deadly to you. A single taste would be enough to kill you. But if Odin drank it, the worst it would do is leave him unconscious."

"I had no intention of killing him."

Her voice softened slightly.

"After all, a marriage of a few days creates a bond, and Odin and I have been married for tens of thousands of years. We’ve never had any serious quarrels. I had to act for the sake of a greater plan, but that doesn’t mean I wanted to hurt him."

Frigga glanced toward the throne, her expression thoughtful.

"If I could avoid harming him, I would. And sealing his memories before sending him to Earth was a far better solution than what I had planned."

She paused, then regarded Loki with renewed interest.

"You don’t actually have any political ambitions, do you?"

Loki blinked.

"You’ve wanted the throne for a very long time. But I suspect what you truly want is to prove yourself. You want to sit on that throne because you believe it will finally show everyone your worth."

She watched him carefully.

"You’ve never seriously considered what you would do after becoming king. You’ve never thought about the responsibilities that come with the crown, or what it means to rule. You simply want to be king for the sake of being king. Am I wrong?"

Loki stared at her for a moment.

Then, rather stiffly, he nodded.

His ambition was hardly a secret anymore. But she was right about one thing: he’d never thought very far beyond taking the throne.

His first order of business had been to commission a statue of himself.

After that?

Well, he’d cross that bridge when he came to it.

Frigga smiled at his answer, though not because she was pleased with his lack of ambition.

"Good. Then perhaps we can help each other."

She looked around the throne room.

"You’ve achieved what you wanted. You’re sitting on the throne, and in doing so, you’ve also helped me. I have no particular desire to remove you from it. And since you don’t actually want to manage the kingdom, I have a proposal."

Her tone remained conversational, but there was something in her gaze that made it clear she wasn’t offering Loki much room to refuse.

"You remain king. Publicly, we announce that your advanced age has brought on a severe case of vertigo. Your eyesight has deteriorated, and you’re no longer capable of managing state affairs. I will take over the administration of the kingdom."

Loki’s eyes widened as he grasped the full meaning of her proposal.

"You intend to rule as regent?"

"Precisely." Frigga nodded. "Doesn’t it suit everyone?"

She continued before he could answer.

"You get to keep your throne, which is all you ever wanted. I’ll handle the tedious business of governing, and you can enjoy your freedom. If you want to indulge in being king, you can come here and sit on the throne whenever you please. Otherwise, you can retire to the royal chambers, recover from your illness, and enjoy all the privileges of your position."

She smiled at him.

"What do you say?"

What did he say?

What could he say?

Loki had finally seized the throne, only to discover that his mother intended to take everything else out of his hands. He hadn’t even had time to warm the seat before she was preparing to rule the kingdom in his name.

But what choice did he have?

Frigga needed only a single word from him to legitimize her regency. If he refused, she could expose his identity, and he would likely be executed for treason before the day was out.

As Loki considered his predicament, a long-standing mystery finally resolved itself.

He’d been raised by Frigga. She had taught him magic, deception, and the art of misdirection. Yet he’d always wondered how such a kind and dignified goddess had managed to raise the God of Mischief.

For years, he’d assumed he was simply born crooked.

Now he understood.

His mother was the real master of deception. She could make ambition look like duty, manipulation look like kindness, and a power grab look like an act of public service.

Compared with her, he was an amateur.

"Well?" Frigga prompted. "I’ve asked you a question. Are you going to answer me?"

Loki sighed.

"Fine. I agree."

It wasn’t as though he had much to lose. He’d obtained the throne he wanted, and Frigga would be the one dealing with all the tedious responsibilities attached to it.

Perhaps this arrangement wasn’t so bad after all.

"Excellent."

Frigga conjured another cup and moved closer.

"Since we’re going to announce that you’re ill, you’ll need to be genuinely incapacitated for a little while. Otherwise, someone might notice that your illness is a fabrication. I have a drink here that will do the trick."

She held it out reassuringly.

"Don’t worry. It’s not poison. It’ll only leave you dizzy and unable to see clearly for a while. You’ll be fine."

Loki recoiled, staring at the cup in mounting horror.

"Y-You don’t need to go that far! I’m an excellent liar. I can fool everyone without actually getting sick!"

"Who have you ever fooled besides Thor?"

Frigga seized him by the arm and dragged him back before tipping the cup toward his mouth.

"Loki, it’s time for your medicine. The sooner you take it, the sooner you’ll recover."

"Mmph! Mmph!"

Loki struggled desperately against her grip.

"J-Just wait until my brother Thor gets back!"

Frigga ignored his protests and made sure he swallowed every last drop.