Loki lay in his bed, staring vacantly at the embellished ceiling of his bedchamber, the flickering flames from the burning cauldron along the far wall casting the room in dim, warm orange light. Verda lay on her side facing him under the silky soft sheets, propping her head on her arm, reaching out and tracing her index finger along his breastbone, down the center of his bare chest.

"This can't continue," Loki said stonily, breaking his silence.

"I don't understand..." Verda replied as she withdrew her hand, hurt and confusion in her voice.

Unlike some kingdoms in the past and present throughout the universe, in Asgard a servant was as equally suitable a candidate for a prince or princess, the consort of a current or future reigning king or queen or other member of the nobility. There was no shame in loving whomever one loved whether opposite sex or same sex and regardless of their station.

"Considering Lorelei's crimes, what she is capable of, you must know how it would look, what others may believe."

"I am not my sister. I'm nothing like her," Verda responded, it clear from her tone she disliked being linked with her sibling.

Lorelei, a highly skilled sorceress, was one of Asgard's most infamous and dangerous criminals and a power hungry megalomaniac, though few who were not not familiar with her history would believe it upon seeing the beautiful, harmless looking woman with the coppery hair so much like Verda's own. She had spent the last six centuries a prisoner, sentenced by Odin to the dungeon for the remainder of her life, her ability to enslave the minds of men to fall madly in love with her and do her bidding simply by the sound of her voice curtailed by the enchanted collar she was forced now to wear at all times. The only man Sif had ever loved aside from Thor had been one of Lorelei's many victims.

Loki had almost forgotten about Haldor, Sif's former lover. She had now lost not one but two men she had set her heart upon. The state she had been in when last Loki had seen her hours ago was even more understandable now. Loki recalled the enmity Sif bore Lorelei for the death of Haldor. He knew he was now looked upon by her with the same, if not an even deeper hatred, Sif suspecting him of having orchestrated Thor's demise.

Loki had met Verda in the tavern, she sitting alone and forlorn, their eyes meeting for a moment as she had looked up from her drink. It wasn't in Loki's nature to care much about such things, after all, few ever showed any care for or interest in him when he was in the same state, so why should he? However, something about her drew him to her. Seating himself across from her, he struck up a conversation. She'd told him her story, how she was distrusted, shunned, and even feared by others once they learned who her elder sister happened to be. It had struck a chord with Loki, he feeling a sort of kinship with her, both suffering through no fault of their own simply due to the identity of their sibling. After returning home he had spoken to his mother, requesting that Verda be granted a position in the palace. Pleased at Loki's display of altruism and due to her own, Frigga had agreed. At Loki's request she had been assigned as a chambermaid to the area of the palace where his own chambers were located and had proven herself industrious and hard working, pleasing all who resided in chambers under her purview with how well she kept them.

When one day after falling victim to another of Loki's pranks she had expressed an interest in his magical and illusionary abilities, he had out of curiosity and unbeknownst to her tested her aptitude and found her to have a natural foundation on which to build. He knew that his mother and certainly his father would disapprove and Loki himself, of course aware of her familial connection, questioned the wisdom of it, but what could it hurt to teach her a few simple tricks? Of course he had ended up teaching her far more than he had intended and had loaned her books from his personal library for her own private study. To his knowledge she had respected his request to refrain from speaking about or displaying her newly acquired abilities in the presence of others.

Loki could not recall the exact details of how things had ended up progressing so far but it had all started out innocently enough, as is usually the case...a few good natured pranks, a bit of sport and fun and flirting that would be natural between two young people. Eventually it had escalated to Verda providing him with services that went beyond merely tidying his chambers though without the two of them going so far as to actually be lovers in the strictest sense. It was the sort of casual, non-exclusive relationship that Loki generally sought, there seeming to be no expectations from either side of the equation, but then recently for whatever reason, perhaps something as simple as a particularly alluring scent she had worn that day paired with the longevity of their association, the line Loki had previously been so careful to toe had finally been crossed.

"Why should you care what anyone thinks? You're to rule Asgard," Verda continued.

"I'm the heir, I'm not yet the king."

"You believe your father would deny you the throne? Would he pass you over for a cook in the kitchen?"

"If he thought them more worthy. You don't know my father...not as I know him," Loki responded in a grim tone.

"You're no longer a child. You're free to love whoever you wish."

"A mare and a stallion cross paths in a field and nature follows its course. Is that love?" Loki asked, Verda stunned by his words into silence for a moment.

"Is that all I am to you?" Verda asked, turning away from him, leaving the bed and reclaiming her discarded gown from the floor beside it, "I suppose in that case this mare should return to her own stable," Verda retorted as she dressed.

"I'm sorry, that was rather crass," Loki said sitting up, Verda having donned her shoes, making her way to the door of his bedchambers.

"You are soon to be the King of Asgard but it appears you are already the king of understatement."

"I meant only that anyone can do as we have done. That particular sentiment is far from necessary. I believe love requires more. I...I care for you..." Loki said as Verda reached the doorway, his words seeming to fall on deaf ears, "Verda...wait," Loki called to her as he threw back the covers, preparing to follow her.

Verda came to a halt, standing with her back to Loki before turning to face him.

"Earlier this day you told me to leave you, displeased by my presence. Now you wish me to stay. You told me you wished to be king yet now you claim you never wanted the throne. Do you even know what it is you want?"

"I thought I did. My brother...I-" Loki broke off, unable to continue, his voice breaking.

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Thor's last words to him, his brother's last moments of life as Loki watched him die, all the tragic events of that day replayed in his mind. Bowing his head, he placed a hand to his mouth, stifling a sob.

Verda's expression transformed from one of hurt and anger to sympathy and sadness. Leaving the doorway she approached Loki, sitting down on the edge of the bed near him, once again taking him in her arms.

"It's because you do not desire it that you will be a good king."

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The Kynsblot festivities had naturally been cancelled. Instead, Loki spent a long, arduous day in the throne room, watching as whole families of Asgardians filed through to view Thor's corpse laid out on his bier before the throne, Frigga standing near it as if a sentinel, accepting the condolences of the people. His father, who would be overseeing the funeral that evening once the sun had slipped below the horizon, had not yet made an appearance. The line of mourners stretched through the palace and into the plaza outside and beyond. Loki doubted there was a single soul in Asgard who had not already viewed his brother's corpse or did not wait among the crowd to do so. Thor lay on his bier, his hammer gripped in his hands resting on his chest, appearing as if he were peacefully dozing. Loki could not help but think that perhaps Thor had slept thus in life.

Loki had managed to get a few hours of sleep after his emotional display, Verda returning to the bed to lie beside him until he had at last succumbed to slumber. When he had awakened with the daylight he found her gone. He had not seen her yet this day, assuming she must be among those waiting to pay their respects to his brother.

Sif and the Warriors Three had been the first to view Thor. Sif, though still in the throes of sorrow and grief, had appeared far more subdued than last he had seen her, paying little attention to Loki as he stood far to the side of the throne room. She had looked as if she had slept as little as he had and what sleep she'd gotten had been poor. Loki didn't look a great deal better, dark circles to match Sif's under his eyes.

The sound of weeping and wails echoed throughout the expansive room. Loki could no longer endure the cacophony of mourning. Just as he was about to take his leave and exit the far side of the throne room into the corridor that led to his chambers, hoping perhaps to get some additional rest before that evening's proceedings, an einherjar approached him.

"Your father requires your presence in the vault," the einherjar informed him, Loki nodding in acknowledgement.

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Loki entered Odin's vault, descending the stairwell into the subterranean chamber, feeling the cool air on his skin. Why would his father wish to meet with him here? Was it some sort of initiation to prepare him to take the throne?

Odin awaited Loki at the bottom of the stairway in silence, Thor's hammer held in his hand at his side. Loki realized that the one Thor gripped as he rested on his bier was a convincing fake.

"You wished to see me, Father?" Loki asked after descending the stairs.

"This belongs to you now," Odin said, presenting Loki with the hammer, holding it out before him.

Loki reached out, Odin passing the hammer to him. Loki peered down at it in his grasp. It looked and felt out of place in his hand.

"Join me," Odin said, turning and walking farther into the vault, Loki following him.

Odin and Loki passed various relics on their stands or in their niches. Suddenly Odin came to a halt, turning to Loki.

"You know what these are and with what powers they are imbued. You also are aware of the danger they pose, which is why I have brought them here. It is my...and will soon be your own sacred duty and imperative to protect the nine realms and the greater universe from the devastation that could be wrought if they were to fall into the wrong hands. Silence your mind and listen. Is there one that calls to you?"

Loki wasn't quite sure what Odin meant but did as his father instructed. Nothing particularly caught his attention or 'called' to him as his father had put it. He slowly made his way through the vault, stopping and pausing before various relics but nothing struck him as out of the ordinary, though he could sense the energy in the air around each one. Loki continued on. He felt a sense of being led though he had heard no voice, no palpable energy pushing or pulling him along. Finally he approached the pedestal upon which rested one of the most powerful relics in Odin's collection. He stood before it, bathed in its blue glow, sensing a frosty chill in the air surrounding it. He stared down at the Casket of Ancient Winters for a moment before looking up at Odin questioningly.

The Casket had once been the greatest, most powerful treasure of Jotunheim, the realm of the frost giants, creatures that had long been the boogeymen of the stories Asgardians told their children. Cruel and cold, both literally and figuratively, were the Jotuns as well as merciless, fearless warriors...or at least they had once been. Odin had defeated them on their home world around the time of Loki's birth and had taken the relic, their source of power, back to Asgard to rest safely in the vault. Their civilization had descended into ruin. Laufey, their king, now reigned over a crumbling world with little hope of ever again ascending to greatness in the realms or the universe. Why, Loki wondered, out of all the relics that rested there would he find himself drawn to that one?

"Before I pass the throne to you, declaring you king and protector of this realm and the others that look to us to guide and safeguard them, there is something you must know. Your mother and I raised you alongside your brother from an infant. You are my son, yet you did not spring from my seed, nor from the womb of she who you know as your mother."

"What are you saying?" Loki's expression reflected his shock and confusion at Odin's revelation.

"Reach out and put your hands upon it," Odin directed Loki.

Loki sat the hammer down at his feet and did as he was instructed, grasping both sides of the Casket, feeling as if the blood in his veins had transformed into ice. He watched in wonder and fear as his hands turned blue, the color creeping up his arms.

"After the final defeat of Jotunheim I entered the temple. There I found an infant, helpless and weak, small for a Jotun...Laufey's son, left to die on that icy rock. I brought him here to Asgard and raised him as my own," Odin explained as Loki stared at his father aghast, barely able to make his lips move to form words.

"You speak of myself?"

"I used the dark magic to transform you into Asgardian form. You are Asgardian, yet you still carry the echo of your past, your true origin. I believed someday you would become an instrument of a permanent and lasting peace between our two realms."

Loki stood stunned. He had spent his entire life believing he was one thing only to learn that he was another. He removed his hands from the Casket, realizing they still rested upon it. The blue color of his flesh faded, returning to its previous tone.

"You now have a choice. You may raise the hammer, strike me down for my treachery," Odin said as Loki continued to study him, baffled, realizing how weary his father appeared, "or you can accept yourself for what you are, make peace with it, and think on it no more."

Loki took hold of the handle of Mjolnir from where he had sat it at his feet, lifting it from the floor, staring in silence at his father, contemplating his words for a moment before finally speaking.

"Let us leave this place."

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Thor's body on its bier had been placed into the boat in which it would make its final journey. All of Asgard it seemed had assembled to see their golden haired warrior prince sent off to his final rest, the crowd stretching back as far as Loki could see. He wondered to himself what the point was for some of them as they would be unable to view any of what was taking place.

Loki stood at Odin's side, his mother taking her place on the other side of his father, all dressed in the finest of their finery for the occasion, Odin and Loki donning their helmets and armor. Loki looked down for the last time on the serene face of his brother as the boat was launched and began to float away toward the border between Asgard and the void of space. After it had traveled some distance, Odin subtly signaled to an archer who notched a flaming arrow into his bow, carefully aiming before releasing it over the water. A moment later flames erupted within the craft carrying Thor's body.

"Farewell, my son," Loki heard Frigga say softly.

The flaming boat had almost reached the drop off into the darkness of space when Odin grasping Gungnir, his spear, passed it to Loki. With the knowledge of Asgardian magic his father had that day passed onto him that Loki had not previously possessed, he raised it and brought it down, producing a loud, reverberating sound. Thor's body within the boat transformed into a sparkling mist of energy that rose up to disperse among the stars.

"Farewell, brother."