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….
Strange feelings boiled inside, calling which "mixed" would be a bit faded.
The human part of me distinctly trembled from proximity to one of the most powerful beings in this universe, significantly aided by Loki's knowledge, allowing me to realize this power in manifold greater fullness than any entertaining movie was capable of giving.
Odin was a God, a full-fledged ruler of this world.
Even just sitting next to him, I felt how connected he was with the surrounding space, how much Asgard and several other, real, planets and even entire dimensions, albeit pocket or dwarf ones, were submissive to his will.
He was connected even with Earth!
Not as fully and deeply as with this artificial world of the Aesir, but this connection was still there, and it was greater than mine.
The former Loki didn't think about this, too used to it, and he had seen enough examples of his father's magical power, but this chilled me to the bone.
I could also feel worlds, their soul, essence.
But for me it was a distant and vague sensation, I simply knew that this soul existed, perceived it as a kind of background, something like smell or air temperature, but influencing it, forcing it to do something, and especially, drawing strength from it…
All this was inaccessible to me.
I didn't call Storm a Goddess just for the sake of a compliment.
Her power was based on communication with the world, on empathy with it, the ability to ask and receive, phenomenal influence even for a real God.
But still, she wasn't a Goddess; she was a mutant whose psionic abilities were configured in such a bizarre way that she received her analogue of powers inherent to the strongest of the Aesir.
Odin was a God and could quite possibly do the same as she, and on a dozen worlds. My feelings screamed this to me, Loki's knowledge whispered this.
And they also said how bad Odin felt. How tired and weak he was. I saw his connection with the universe, I saw its potential, and I saw how incapable the Allfather was right now of realizing it.
He was like a huge ancient dragon, defeated not by enemies and weapons, but by old age and infirmity, yet continuing to inspire sacred awe even in such a decrepit and defenseless state.
But that concerned only power and the fear of exposure, the very fear that had driven me to flee Asgard. Yet, that fear wasn't the only thing reigning in my soul.
Loki's memory, the recollections… things I had bonded with and, let's be honest with myself, had grown accustomed to considering my own. All of it churned inside me at the sight of my father's condition.
Stern, quick-tempered, eternally favoring Thor, sometimes dense and stubborn to the point of teeth-grinding, but… father.
Always so mighty and awe-inspiring, now weak and defenseless.
Abandoned by his adopted child, betrayed in his best feelings and hopes by his beloved son, disappointed and consumed by regret, helpless to fix anything, and forced to leave his wife, his kingdom, everything he lived for, at the most crucial and critical moment.
The moment he was needed most.
I realized I wasn't the Loki he knew, that Odin wasn't my father, that I shouldn't feel anything but contempt for the disgusting result of his parenting.
But I pitied him anyway. Something thick and aching, suspiciously resembling love, rose in my chest. I wanted to help, apologize, hug him, and even, dammit, cry…
And then, I was simply covered by a hopeless shroud of despair at the mere thought of how much I'd have to drag if I actually took up ruling Asgard.
Administrative duties didn't scare me; the people did. Or rather, the Aesir.
Their culture, customs, moral and social principles, traditions of conducting business and executing orders…
Here, my difference from the former Loki manifested most clearly, I couldn't live in this society. Didn't want to live in it.
Didn't want to adapt to it. Didn't want to… support it.
A society of technically super-advanced, long-lived psychics stuck in a tribal system was too alien to me.
And a King must not only follow traditions but be, as they say, holier than the Pope, especially if his claim to the throne has legitimacy issues.
It would seem, given Loki's reputation, I could do whatever I wanted, but in real life, that's a one-way ticket. Besides… there are no potatoes here!
"I asked him from the beginning to be honest with you," Frigga broke the prolonged silence, gently squeezing Odin's fingers over the blanket. "There should be no secrets in our family…"
"Everyone has secrets," I echoed, continuing to hypnotize the face of Asgard's ruler, "but some secrets are taken too painfully if revealed too late."
"He hid the truth from you so you wouldn't feel like an outsider," the goddess tried to catch my eye. Overcoming myself, I gave in, raising my eyes to her.
"You are our son, Loki," feeling a small victory, she continued with soulful emphasis, "and we are your family. You must know that."
"Our knowledge sometimes plays a cruel joke on us," turning away, I tried to quell the feelings raging inside.
It was good that there were no servants in the bedchamber right now, and I didn't have to worry about meeting a curious gawker's gaze while letting my eyes wander the room.
"You can talk to him," Frigga suggested changing the subject delicately, speaking in a new tone. "He can see and hear us even now."
"I'm afraid I'm not in the right state, and I might say a lot of unnecessary things. He's having a hard enough time after Thor's stunt as it is," I sighed, massaging my eyes with my fingers. I knew Odin could observe the world even in sleep, but the reminder didn't bring positive emotions. "How long will this last?"
"I don't know," the woman shook her head, looking at her husband. "It's different this time, we weren't ready."
"Then my feelings are correct, he will need years, perhaps decades, to recover," I said, partly asking, but mostly stating.
"You are a good son," Thor's mother smiled. "Now do you understand why we need you so much?"
"Yes, but I don't want to rule Asgard!" If the original Loki heard me, he would have died of a heart attack, regardless of the fact that Aesir aren't subject to mortal diseases.
"I don't understand…" Frigga frowned in bewilderment, "didn't you prepare for this your whole life?"
"Yes, but I gave it up."
….
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