Desolation Series

Loki slammed his fist onto the stone table, creating a fissure of blackest obsidian down its center - a symbol of the dissension that tore his family, his world, apart.

“You cannot go through with this plan.” He made no apologies for the damage to the table, and why should he? There was too much white and gold in this place that pretended at perfection. The table was better off for his contribution.

His eyes flicked over the Valkyrie, Mahria, and Michael, Odin’s general. They were token players in this game. Even Heimdall, god of the Bifrost, mattered little. He had his own domain to govern - Asgard was Odin’s.

But Midgard - that should be his.

As the grandson of Midgard’s Guardian Regent, Loki had always assumed he’d be given its governance. That he’d be allowed to take a contingent of followers and create a world of his own. Other Aesir gods had done such things in their realms. Besides, what else was he to do? It’s not like Odin would die - he was a god. And he’d certainly never abdicate his throne so Loki could reign. It only made sense that Midgard would be his.

Now Odin wanted to use Midgard as a proving ground for their people? Their memories stripped, they’d be forced to live mortal lives with no concept of what was at stake. Sure, they might live mediocre lives, only to return to Asgard, unimproved and empty of any hope for the future. A few might even live exemplary lives and reach the pinnacle of progression - that state of pure energy and bliss his people called Ascension.

But Loki knew there would be many who failed to live up to Odin’s ideal of perfection. How could they? No one was ever good enough for him. And those who failed would find themselves at the mercy of the goddess Hel, destined to live out eternity in her realm of cold fire and hopelessness. Loki couldn’t let that happen. He wouldn’t.

“It is the best solution for those of our people who wish Ascension. You of all people should understand that not all are satisfied with this simple life.” Odin’s voice was weary, his words an overused refrain, as he gestured beyond the council room to the world beyond. “You know what it is to desire more for yourself, to strive and dream - why would you deny your own people?”

Loki’s lips curled into a slow, patronizing smile. His grandfather could try, but he would never outwit Loki. “I don’t wish to deny it - you know that. While you would require them to slave away and be tempted and tried - and risking losing every single one of them - I would ensure their happiness. I would ensure they achieved their every wish.”

“But at what cost?” Mahria broke in, her temper as hot and vibrant as ever. She glared at Loki with a venom so potent the air seemed to shimmer with its poison. Loki had long suspected she burned so hot when around him because she desired him as much as he desired her. But he was a god and she a mere Valkyrie - there was no future for them. “You’d force your will upon them so their victory wasn’t theirs, but your own.”

He bowed his head in acknowledgment of her concerns, but why could no one see? “I would cherish every soul, whether or not they be perfect. It’s our fearless leader who wishes to deny glory. In his plan -” he looked at those assembled, looking into the eyes of each of them before continuing, “many will be lost. Perhaps all.” He stood then, and gently pushed his chair under the table.

He stood straight, his black hair hanging in waves to his shoulders, his golden doublet with slashes of red and gold worked through the embroidery heralding his stature and glory. “My plan promises none will be lost. They can live their mortal lives, if that’s what you wish.” He flicked a glance at his grandfather, who sat stiff and unreadable in his chair across from him. “They can be tried and tested - I’ll allow all of this. But they will all achieve Ascension.

“That’s the part you all seem to overlook!” He paced now, his lithe and muscled body prowling like a wildcat down the length of the massive table. “No one can be as perfect as you’re expecting them to be. No one! Many will fall short of your expectations. They will make mistakes. They’ll make bad choices - they do it now! Every day!

“Except in my plan, I would cherish them all. I would welcome and reward them all. None should be below my condescension. None should be cast out.”

Loki felt his truth burning in him like a live coal and it infuriated him that these, his family and friends, could be so blind. “Why can’t you see?” he asked them softly, though he wanted to rail and fight, wanted to drive the truth into them so they would be forced to accept its rightness.

Slowly, Odin pushed back his chair, and stood. His clothing mirrored his grandson’s, except where Loki’s was accented with gold and red, Odin wore, as always, the white and gold of his house. He straightened his doublet before lifting his face to meet the fiery gaze of his progeny. “Your plan is coercion, my son. Not choice. You would force your will upon our people. You would give them no choice for their path but yours. That is no way to reach Ascension.”

Loki vibrated with anger and held onto his fury with a fist-tight grip or else loose it on all of them. “Because they would have chosen already, before they ever left Asgard! Because I would know what they want!”

While he yelled, Odin had moved around the table and approached Loki now, as one might come softly upon a wild creature. He held out a hand. Placating. Soothing. “Your heart is so big, my son. You love so deeply. It is your greatest gift - and your greatest shortcoming.”

Loki recoiled, the admonishment felt like a slap to his face. But before he could respond, Odin placed his hand on Loki’s cheek. He had to reach up to do it, as Loki stood a few inches taller than his grandfather, but in that moment Loki felt no less like a child than he once had truly been. “I am so proud of you. So grateful for your desire to protect our people. To make sure they are all rewarded with eternal joy. You are a wonder to me.”

Loki felt himself soften, felt the fire inside burn down to embers as he stared into his grandfather’s golden eyes.

“But my decision is final. Our people will be reborn on Midgard, to learn right from wrong, kindness from tyranny, and they will choose for themselves - without any help from me or from Asgard. And without any help from you.”

Stunned, Loki took a step back from Odin. Braced himself on the back of his chair. But before he could find the words to respond, before he had fully processed the way Odin had played him, his grandfather had gone.