Loki and Ingrid #7 (This one is sad, sorry.)

Set during Thor 1. Loki finds out who he is...so yeah. It's sad. And the rest will probably be more sad than funny if I follow film cannon. I'll have to do some cute Loki and Thor mini kidfics to even it out!

It Doesn’t Matter—by Sarah B. Priest

“Ingrid,” Loki’s face is distraught as he lays his books on the table. “It’s official. Thor’s coronation is in two weeks’ time.”

          I look up from the notes I’m writing for my project, surprised. “Really? What’s the hurry? Is the King ill?”

          “I certainly hope not. If he were I would be extremely concerned. As it is, I am left to wonder…”

          “I’m sure everything is fine.”

          “Yes, but the dinners, Ingrid, really. I’m expected to attend all of their funny banquets.”

          “That’s not what’s troubling you.”

          “I just want a warm bowl of soup and some bread. Maybe milk. But not three-tiered cakes with wine goblets and a whole turkey!”

          “I’ve seen Volstagg and Sif eat,” I sigh, “I know. Just take a smaller portion.”

          “I can’t watch him be King! Thor is immature—an idiot!”

          “I’m sure he will wisen up under King Odin’s council. Now I have work to do?”

          “Now, Ingrid?”

          “Yes. It’s exam season. You can stay here if you’ll be quiet.”

          Loki nods and sits down restlessly thumbing through the book I found on infinity stones, but I can see that he clearly isn’t thinking about his readings. 

---

“I SWEAR!” Thor’s voice echoes throughout the chambers as the room grows silent.

          “Then I proclaim you—”

          I hear a crashing in the other room, and a shout. “The Frost Giants are here!”

---

“I haven’t heard such stories since I was a child,” says Loki, his pace quickening, “This is madness. My father made peace with King Laufey years ago. When we were children, Thor said he would slay all of the monsters. So reckless!”

          “Yeah,” I pant, trying to match his long strides, “But there isn’t anything you can do.”

          “Thor said the only way to teach them was to march into Jotunheim and destroy them—certainly reckless, but the only solution that I have at the moment. Don’t tell a soul, but Thor says we’re going to Jotunheim.”

          “Then I’m coming with you.”

          He whirls around and grabs my shoulder, hard. “Sif is going, Ingrid. You don’t like Sif.”

          “I never said I disliked Sif.”

          “You can’t go. It’s incredibly dangerous!”

          “That’s why I’m coming! If anything happened to you—”

          “You worry too much Ingrid. Come on, then, we’re supposed to meet Thor by the Bifrost.”

---

“You’re bringing the girl, Loki? asks Thor, concerned, “I do not want to have unnecessary blood on my hands. And this is no place for a girl.”

          “A-hem!” says Sif, loudly, as she advances.

          “I’m sorry, Sif. Anyway, if anything happens to her—”

          “Yes, brother, she is my responsibility.”

          “I think I’ll be responsible for myself, thank you.”

          Before we advance to the bridge, I can hear Loki whispering, “Good one, Ingrid.”

---

“Loki? What’s wrong?” I whisper as our footsteps echo in the dark hallways.

          “I knew it. Something was wrong. Something is different.”

          “What are you talking about?”

          “I’ll have to get it out of Father, if it’s the death of me.”

          “Tell me. What’s wrong?”

          “Did you hear of Thor’s banishment?”

          “Yes, it was news across the Kingdom. But tell me, Loki. What’s troubling you?”

          He halts and approaches me, his voice barely above a whisper, “If you tell, anyone what happened on Jotunheim—”

          “They already know! We went to Jotunheim and got chased out; we had to escape, and Thor got banished for it! Are you sure this wasn’t your idea?”

          “Favoring Thor, I see?” he snaps, “Typical.”

          “No, I’m sorry. Just—”

          “No. You didn’t see me on Jotunheim.”

          I let out a light laugh as I say, “Of course not! I was running for my life!”

          “This isn’t funny; Ingrid.”

          “Tell me then. What happened on Jotunheim?”

          “I can’t tell you. I have to ask Father.”

          “I’m sorry,” I whisper, “You know where to find me.”

---

“My King,” I begin to bow, still shocked and confused.

          “Ingrid? Get up; we’re going outside,” he snaps sharply.

          “What happened? I’m only hearing rumors that the Allfather has fallen into the long-awaited Odinsleep but isn’t he still living?”

          “In a dormant state, yes. But I’m King now!”

          “Not when he wakes up—”

          Loki carelessly swings open the canopy door to the outside. “Asgard doesn’t need me for a few hours. Mother fears this time is different, and he may never wake—it’s my fault, Ingrid.”

          “What happened?”

          “And the worst part is I got what I wanted! But I didn’t mean harm upon him!”

          “Tell me what happened! The whole story!”

          “I do what I want, Ingrid, and I serve no one. If you ask me again—”

          “WHAT HAPPENED?”

          Silence.

          Time seems to inch forward as Loki takes one step, then another. He raises his right hand, slowly making a fist.

          The blow comes harder than I expected as I double back and fall to my knees.

          Breathing heavily, Loki steps back, to the edge of the balcony, his hands still clenched. I can feel my cheeks burning from the punch, and the hot tears that are forming. “I WAS JUST TRYING TO HELP!” I scream, barely hearing myself over my racing thoughts.

          He is there in an instant, dusting off my garments with his hands, “Are you alright, Ingrid? Get up!”

          I can feel my head pounding as I close my eyes. “I don’t want to get up,” I can hear myself muttering.

          He sits down on the ground next to me, drawing on the floor with a stray piece of coal from one of the bedrooms.

          “I shouldn’t have said anything,” I say slowly, “I’m sorry.”

          He is silent as he begins sketching with the coal again, this time on a piece of paper he summoned out of his back pocket. First the sunset, then the building in the distance, the golden pinnacles of Asgard…

          “I didn’t know you drew. It’s good.” His face flushes as he turns to paper over, quickly.

          “I’m sorry. I’ll go now.” I begin to get up.

          “I’m a monster, Ingrid.” His voice cuts through the fading daylight as I try to make out his expression.

          I sit back against the wall. “No, of course not. It’s okay. I understand getting angry. It happens to everyone—”

          “No. Not about that. I never did tell you what happened on Jotunheim. I was fighting one of the giants and—” he breaks off suddenly and begins carelessly throwing pebbles between the railings of the balcony. “I don’t know how to tell you this, Ingrid, as you will fear me.”

          “No. I would never—”

          “I hit you, Ingrid.”

          “And what does that have to do with Jotunheim?”

          “It was all on purpose. I tricked Thor into going; he was incredibly stupid to fall for it, really. I got him banished, Ingrid. I let the giants in…”

          “I’m sorry.”

          “And I can’t stop. I have plans—while Thor is on Midgard. I want him to know who I am—Loki, King of Asgard—”

          “You don’t need to lie and cheat anymore.”

          “Yes. I. Do!” he hisses, throwing the last pebble over the top of the balcony.

          “Please—”

          “I tried to win Father’s favor by legitimate means; and I failed. Cheating is a favorable alternative to failure.”

          “Tell me, Loki. Please tell me. What happened on Jotunheim? To your father—please. I want to help!” I can feel my voice rising urgently.

          “I can’t tell you. You would fear me. Kill me, even.”

          “Never. I promised I would never let anything happen—”

          “When we were on Jotunheim—I was fighting one of the giants, and I—I came into contact with its skin. My arm turned blue, Ingrid. I asked Father about the concealing magic. Yes, only a little magic. He revealed all.”

          “What is it, Loki?”

          “The casket wasn’t the only thing stolen after that battle on Jotunheim.”

          “What do you mean?” I whisper.

          “I am Laufey’s son, Ingrid, left to die in the cold depths of Jotunheim as a baby. Some rescue. Father—Odin—he stole me for a peace treaty. I was to be a means of peace, to form a truce. Nothing more. I am Jotun, Ingrid. I’m not Asgardian, was never Asgardian. Odin is not my father, Thor is not my brother…he said he would kill all of them—”

          “You were to be the king of Jotunheim,” I whisper, “It all makes sense now. What Thor said—”

          “HE TOLD YOU?”

          “No. Not of your heritage. I did not understand at the time, Loki. You were born to be a king.”

          “No,” he whispers in the thick night air, I was born to die.”

          The silence feels stifling as Loki slowly stands up and walks to the edge of the balcony, looking out over Asgard. “Beautiful night, isn’t it? Hurts that I have to ruin it for you.”

          I stand up to join him, “You didn’t. You’re my best friend.”

          “I’m Jotun. I lied and cheated to the throne, and I have no intentions of stopping. I hit you—”

          “Shh, Loki. None of that matters. I know it’s hard to deal with all of it—and you’re still my friend, Jotun or Asgardian.”

          “Stop with the empty words, Ingrid.”

          I take a step back, as I feel the confusion and shock of everything that’s happened finally catching up to me. “No, I mean it.”

          He’s not paying attention, instead he’s looking out over the balcony. “I wonder how long of a drop it is,” he wonders aloud, looking down, “Does it hurt?”

          “No, Loki. You have what you wanted—a Kingdom—they are in shock and disarray, Odin asleep, Thor banished—”

          “And all of it my fault, Ingrid. I can’t face them. Sif and the warriors. Mother, or Heimdall—”

          “You don’t have to go back yet. But don’t leave…”

          “I have another chance to win Father’s favor, if he ever awakes—”

          “Shh, Loki. Don’t think about that now. Come here,” I extend my cloak to him as I wait for a response.

          “If I cannot win his favor, I would die—”

          “No! Don’t talk like that!”

          “I mean it, Ingrid,” he quavers, burying his head in my cloak.

          And for once, I know that he’s not lying.