[3rd Person]
The golden halls of Asgard bore the weight of centuries, their polished surfaces reflecting the turbulent light that clawed through the high windows. Outside, the sky wept in sheets of rain, punctuated by the jagged, silent flares of lightning that illuminated the storm-tossed clouds. Inside, the air was thick not with the scent of rain, but tension so heavy it felt like a physical presence.
Odin sat upon the Hlidskjalf, his single eye fixed on the two figures before him. Thor, tall and broad, stood with uncustomary stillness, his hammer Mjolnir resting against the base of the throne dais. Facing him, cloaked in his usual intricate leathers and silks, was Loki, his posture deceptively relaxed, though a keen observer might note the subtle tension in his jawline.
It had been a day of pronouncements. Odin, weary from the trials of recent years and recognizing the changing landscape of the Nine Realms, had gathered his sons. He had spoken of legacy, of the future, and then, he had looked at Thor. He offered him the throne. This was the permanent mantle, the full weight of the Allfather's throne, the responsibility of Asgard and the realms bound to it, offered without caveat or condition.
Loki had stood by, a knot tightening in his stomach. He had, in his own way, served Asgard recently. He had navigated treacherous paths, used his cunning for the betterment of their people, even if his methods were... unconventional. He had dared to hope that perhaps, just perhaps, this time his efforts would be seen, acknowledged. That Odin, seeing Thor's frequent absences and his clear affinity for matters beyond Asgard, might finally consider the son who had always been present, always scheming, yes, but always here. He had braced himself, not for the throne itself, not yet, perhaps, but for a significant trust, a vital role, a sign that he was finally, truly illegitimate no more.
But Odin had looked at Thor. And Thor, to the shock of many present, had hesitated. Not out of fear, but thought.
And then Thor had spoken.
"Father," Thor's voice, usually booming, was measured, though it carried the weight of conviction, "I am honored. Truly. But the realms... they are changing. Asgard cannot stand alone, nor should it. My time on Midgard has shown me..."
Loki's breath hitched. Midgard. Always Midgard.
"...it has shown me that strength comes in many forms. Not just in battle. The people of Midgard have faced unimaginable threats, often without powers or gods to aid them, and they have persevered. They have found unity in diversity, courage in the face of despair. They have earned our protection. I have seen their strength, their courage. We could learn from them." Thor gestured expansively, not towards the grand halls, but seemingly towards the bridge, towards the distant realms. "Asgard's king should not be bound to these halls alone. The Nine Realms are interconnected. Midgard, especially, is vulnerable and vital. I believe... I propose we rule, Father. Not just Asgard. But the realms, from a place where the connections are clearest, where the needs are greatest. From Earth."
Silence. A heavy, suffocating silence broken only by the lashing rain against the glass.
Loki felt a cold wave wash over him, replacing the anxious knot with a hard, brittle anger. He felt seen and dismissed in the same breath. Chosen again, Thor was chosen again. And for what? To share the legacy of Odin, the Nine Realms, the very concept of Asgardian power, with mortals?
He couldn't help it. The laugh that escaped him was sharp, devoid of humor, laced with pure venom.
"Earth?" Loki's voice dripped with derision, cutting through the stunned silence like ice. He took a step forward, his eyes, usually holding a mischievous glint, now burning with a cold, sharp fire. "You would share our legacy with ants? With creatures who live for a blink, squabbling over dust and dreaming of godless futures?" He scoffed, a sound of utter contempt. "You've always had a soft spot for them, haven't you?"
He gestured vaguely, recalling Thor's numerous trips, his alliances with these 'heroes', the constant pull of that insignificant realm on the mighty God of Thunder. "And look where that's led us. Distracted, divided. Father's throne," he spat the word as if it were poison, "handed to you, the favored son yet again, and now you hand it away like some charity? Undermining its very weight by proposing to drag it through the mud of Midgard?"
Thor's brow furrowed, his earlier calm beginning to fray. "It is not charity, brother. It is recognizing value where you refuse to see it. It is foresight. The universe is larger than Asgard's borders. The threats are greater. We need allies, not subservients. Midgard has proven itself a worthy potential ally."
"Allies?" Loki echoed, his voice rising. "Or crutches? Is Asgard so weak now that it needs to lean on mortals? Is its king so... changed?" He focused on Thor, his gaze narrow and accusing. "What has that pathetic realm done to you, brother? Turned the mighty Thor into a diplomat who wishes to share power with... beggars?"
"They are not beggars!" Thor retorted, his patience thinning. "They are resilient! Resourceful! They face their fears! They have a spirit you could never comprehend because you are too consumed with your own petty grievances and perceived slights to look beyond yourself!"
"Petty?!" Loki recoiled as if struck. "You call my desire for acknowledgement, for a place beside you, for the respect I have earned 'petty'? While you toss aside the very thing I have always yearned for validation upon! You, who never wanted it, are given everything! And you treat it with such... such casual disregard!" His voice cracked with the raw edge of long-buried hurt. "You call me short-sighted? Selfish?"
Thor took a step towards him, his face etched with frustration and a flicker of something that might have been pity, instantly igniting Loki's fury further. "You are! You only see power in terms of domination, Loki! You see the throne as something to be taken, to be held above others. You don't see duty, burden, the immense responsibility it entails! You don't understand humility, or the true strength that comes from protecting the vulnerable, not ruling over them!"
"And you claim to understand it by abandoning Asgardian tradition for... for Earth's fragile, fleeting values?" Loki's voice was low now, dangerous. "You were chosen because you embody Asgard's strength! Its might! And now you wish to dilute that strength with... with mortality? With their chaotic, unpredictable ways? Father chose you, Thor, but perhaps for the wrong reasons this time. Perhaps Asgard's vision has grown clouded, infected by your Midgardian affections!"
He could see it in Thor's eyes – the genuine belief, the earnestness. It wasn't a game to Thor. He truly believed in this joint rule, this blurring of lines between Asgard and Midgard. And that, more than anything, solidified the insult for Loki. Earth was the reason Asgard's legacy felt threatened. Earth was the reason Loki felt shut out, misunderstood, branded as 'selfish' and 'short-sighted' when he simply saw the preservation of their unique glory.
The golden hall felt suddenly suffocatingly small. The storm seemed to press in on them, amplifying the echoes of their bitter words. Loki's gaze swept over the ancient tapestries depicting Asgard's triumphs, over the proud statues of its kings. And then back to Thor, standing there, advocating for Midgard.
Thor's heart belonged there more than here... then that planet had become the enemy. Not just a rival for Thor's attention, but the very symbol of Asgard's alleged decline, of Thor's 'weakness', of Loki's own continued exclusion.
He didn't hear if Thor called after him. He wouldn't have stopped anyway. His steps echoed unnaturally loud in the vast, empty corridors. Each echo seemed to whisper Thor's words, Odin's silence, the crushing weight of being overlooked, again and again, for the brother who didn't even seem to want the prize.
The words coiled in his mind, sharp and cutting. Duty. Humility. Protection. Thor's new mantra, learned from mortals. Values that diminished Asgard's inherent superiority, reduced its king to a guardian instead of a ruler. And Earth was the source of this corruption. Earth had made Thor soft, pliable, willing to share what was inherently Asgard's.
His pacing slowed. He stopped by a window and looked out, not seeing the roiling clouds over Asgard, but envisioning that distant, vulnerable blue marble hanging in the void. A small, fragile place. A place Thor cherished. A place Thor believed held some vital secret, some inherent worth that Asgard supposedly lacked.
A slow, chilling smile spread across Loki's face. The bitterness didn't dissipate, but it hardened, becoming steel. The humiliation didn't lessen, but it transformed into a potent fuel.
"If Earth is what made Thor weak… then I shall make it his greatest failure."
The thought settled in his mind, clear and absolute. It wasn't enough to simply cause chaos on Earth. This would be personal.
He would strike at the heart of Thor's newfound convictions. He would demonstrate, definitively, that Thor's faith in humanity was not only misplaced but dangerously naive. He would expose their fragility, their pettiness, their capacity for cruelty, turning the very qualities Thor admired into instruments of their own destruction. He would make them turn on the very concept of higher protectors, on Thor himself.
The storm outside began to subside, the rain easing, the lightning flashes becoming less frequent. But within Loki, the storm had just begun.
Yes, Earth. The source of Thor's perceived strength, would become the stage for his most profound failure. And Loki, the overlooked, the 'selfish', the one who truly understood Asgard's inherent superiority, would be the architect of its downfall. He would watch Thor's face as his beloved realm crumbled, not under an external threat, but under the weight of its own corrupted heart. And then, perhaps then, Asgard would remember what true power looked like. Perhaps then, they would see who was truly worthy.
He stood by the window, the storm now just a whisper in the distance, but his eyes held the chilling calm of a predator who had chosen its prey. The golden halls of Asgard, once a symbol of his brother's effortless triumph, now felt like a launching pad for his own bitter, vengeful ascent. His gaze was fixed on the distant horizon, on the realm that had, in his eyes, stolen his brother and diminished his home. Earth would pay. For making Thor weak. For reminding Loki of his own perpetual inadequacy. For standing between him and the recognition he craved. Earth would burn, or twist, or shatter. And Loki would be the one to break it.