Loki: The Burden of the Throne

Chapter 3

Loki navigated the corridors from his own chambers to those of Thor, now clad in a royal blue tunic with gold embellishments, one of the few more colorful choices in his wardrobe. He had initially reached for one of his many go-to dark green to black colored ensembles but reconsidered his choice. Loki was well aware of the messages that were sent to others by one's clothing choices. On Asgard, as was true of many cultures in Midgard as well, dark colors were associated with mourning and death. The last message he wished to send to his mother or anyone was that he was anticipating his brother's demise.

Most Asgardians preferred lighter colored shades for their clothing which reflected the generally joyful and contented nature of the realm's inhabitants. Loki was one of the few that did not, something that among other traits he was cognizant set him apart from the majority of Asgardians. With the exception of anything dripping in gold, he simply preferred darker hues. They favored him, at least he thought so, and no one had ever told him any different. He also appreciated the air of mystery and the message to be wary, not to cross he who wore them that they signified.

Four einherjar stood sentry outside of Thor's chambers, three more than was customary, lined up before the doors blocking the entrance. They bowed their heads, shifting aside and opening the doors for Loki to enter. He knew that there were two more posted directly outside of Thor's bedchambers. Odin was also currently flanked with more guards than usual. Why had his father not also assigned him a retinue of protectors? He supposed the fact that the assailants had already had their chance to fell him and had neglected to do so had something to do with it. If they had wanted him dead, he would already be in Valhalla.

The question of why they hadn't taken the opportunity troubled him, not that he wasn't happy to have been left unscathed. It was obvious they wanted him alive. If they wished to disrupt the line of succession, if the attack on Thor was the start of an attempt at some sort of coup or conquest, surely it would have made far more sense to take out both contenders for the throne. The only explanation Loki could come up with was that either someone had a personal grudge against Thor, though he couldn't think of anyone in Asgard or elsewhere who would have reason to harbor such feelings toward his universally beloved brother, or they wished to ensure that Loki would be the heir and soon take the sacred vows of kingship. If that were the case, someone felt Loki's rule would benefit them more than Thor's. But the assailants, at least the ones whose bodies had been left behind were of Midgard. Why would they care? Why would this Coulson care? In any case, Loki had no intention of being anyone's useful idiot. He was not a puppet that would dance as another pulled the strings.

As he had expected, his mother had not moved from her position at Thor's bedside. He was, however, surprised to see that Sif had not returned as of yet, the chair placed on the other side of the bed empty. There was another in the room however. Ragna had returned to check on her patient. She was now leaning over Thor, drawing back the sheet and smooth, velvety blanket that covered him to expose the bandage over the exit wound in his abdomen, just below his diaphragm. Loki wordlessly returned to his mother's side, again placing his hand on her shoulder. Frigga did not look to him to acknowledge his presence, her eyes instead watching as Ragna pulled back the bandage to examine the wound.

Ragna did her best to remain stoic though she was clearly not entirely successful. Loki attempted to do the same for his mother's benefit, raising a closed fist to his mouth as if he were about to clear his throat to both obscure his expression of horror at least somewhat and also to block off his nostrils, the air now corrupted with the pungent odor of rot. Frigga gasped, raising one of her hands from atop Thor's to her mouth, tears beginning to flow copiously once again from her eyes as she quietly wept at the sight, the flesh around the stitched area blackened. Loki was sure he could see the blackness spreading outwards from the wound, Thor's tissue dying in front of his eyes.