Summary:After a hiatus of some few weeks, Loki broods about his life and decides it is time to make a change Log Info:Storyteller: None |
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It has been nearly three thousand years since Loki was born, three thousand years of strife, of maneuver, of trickery and vice but also some few rare moments of happiness, far fewer than he'd have liked. Always he strove to win the regards of his parents, but the Jotun king would have none of that, his runt of a son could never be his heir, the other Jotuns would not tolerate it… tolerate him.
So…his first act of trickery, true manipulation - he got his father killed and tricked the king of Asgard into adopting him.
And then he learned that being adopted is not the same as being accepted. Always he was the one least favored, and that rankled, especially since he truly did care for his brothers, especially the boisterous one. Alas, he never measured up and that soured him. About the only family he felt cared for him in full measure and without stint was his mother, the Asgardian Queen.
Centuries of feeling inadequate turned into millenia. No matter his prowess with the sword, or his marginally greater skill with daggers, never mind he was vastly stronger than most Asgardians, of no import that he wielded magic that few in the Nine Realms could even fathom, let alone match, trivial his ability to take any shape he could imagine.
It was never enough.
HE was never enough — and that embittered him, oh yes.
Sullen, he sits upon a throne like chair in Muspelheim, sheltered within one of his myriads of sanctums scattered and hidden across the Nine Realms. Hands twine together before his face, and he leans forward as he broods upon tens of centuries of striving, of scheming, of manipulating and never measuring up to the All-Father's expectations, never truly being accepted by his brothers.
A faint smile as he remembers the prank he played on Lady Sif. Sadly, she didn't seem to appreciate the humor, even today. So few gods seem to have come with senses of humor! Well, okay, not /good/ senses of humor, not by Loki's standards. The smile fades as he ponders his life and decides that enough is enough.
"I am weary of being weary." He declares to the empty room. So. They don't accept him. He doesn't NEED their acceptance. They don't trust him. He doesn't NEED their trust.
'No more.' He thinks loudly enough that a servant winces, and halts his approach with mead for the Lord as he broods.
Gone is the sullen Loki, self-pity is for lesser beings. Time for a change. Time to DO things…Great things!
He'll TAKE the respect he is due. And he'll do it on his terms, in his way.
Rising, he casts his inner sight outwards, finding the hidden path back to Midgard. "Adventure awaits." A smirk twists his expressive lips. "Loki Laufeyson, Loki Odinsion, Prince of Asgard, God of Mischief, Loki Liesmith…returns, rejuvenated, reimagined."
A soft laugh. "Oh, yes, this will be /fun/."
.~{:--------------:}~.