Loki sat up straighter upon hearing their words, his survival instinct activating. This was not a social visit.
"What do you want from me?"
Járnsaxa smiled—a smile that did not reach her red eyes.
"We will be direct with you. We saw your fight today. You were... impressive. Very cunning. And even more strategic. Exactly the kind of leader Jotunheim needs."
"Leader?" Loki repeated carefully.
"Laufey is weak," Helblindi interjected, his voice barely a whisper. "You saw it. One arm less. Humiliated in front of his people. His time as king is coming to an end."
"And when he falls," Býleistr continued, "Jotunheim will need a new king. Someone strong. Someone intelligent. Someone who can navigate relations with Asgard without being their pawn."
Járnsaxa took a step closer to Loki.
"We offer you our support. The council of elders can influence the opinion of many Jotuns. With our backing, when you pass the final trial, you could claim the throne. Not as Laufey's heir—he will never accept you—but as the chosen one of all the people of Jotunheim."
Loki felt his heart race. This was... this was exactly what he had always wanted. A throne. Power. And recognition. A people where he would be loved.
"And what would you want in return?" he asked, because nothing in politics was free.
"Simply that you remember who put you on the throne," Járnsaxa replied. "When you make important decisions—alliances, wars, trade—you consult us first. We work together to make Jotunheim great again."
It sounded reasonable. Almost too reasonable.
"I need time to think," Loki said.
"Of course," Járnsaxa nodded. "But not much time. The final trial is in three days. And after that..." she left the implication unfinished.
After they left, Loki remained sitting in silence, his mind working at full speed.
A throne. Finally, he would have a throne of his own. Not living in Thor's shadow. Not as a second son. As a true king.
But something felt... wrong. Too easy. And too convenient.
He decided he needed advice.
He found Vidar on one of the terraces of the ice palace, looking up at the stars. His brother always seemed to think more clearly under the night sky.
"Vidar."
"Loki," Vidar replied without turning around. "Can't you sleep?"
"I had some visitors."
That caught Vidar's attention. He turned fully.
"Who?"
Loki told him everything—the council's offer, the proposal to make him king, the conditions.
Vidar listened in silence, his expression unreadable. When Loki finished, he remained quiet for a long moment.
"What do you think?" Loki finally asked.
"I think," Vidar said slowly, "that it sounds exactly like what you've always wanted. A kingdom of your own. Power. Independence from Thor and from Odin's shadow."
"Yes," Loki admitted.
"And I also think," Vidar continued, "that it sounds like a trap."
Loki frowned.
"Why?"
Vidar turned to look at him directly.
"Because they're offering you the throne, but not real power. 'Consult with them first.' That means every important decision will have to be approved by the council. You would be king in name, but a puppet in reality."
Loki opened his mouth to protest, then closed it. Vidar was right. He had felt it too, but he had wanted to ignore it.
"So what do I do?" he asked.
Vidar stepped closer, placing a hand on his shoulder.
"That's your decision, brother. But let me ask you this: What kind of king do you want to be? One who has the title but obeys orders from the shadows? Or one who earns real legitimacy, who rules by his own merit, who is free to make his own decisions?"
END OF CHAPTER