Rumors run like fire in the world. Thor, first fool-Prince of Asgard, is banished for daring to speak treason to his father. Loki, the dark knife, holds the throne and Gungnir both. Odin, that snake of ages past, lies sleeping, recharging the power he steals from the roots of Yggdrasil, until he can rise and pretend to immortality again. This is not entirely displeasing to Laufey.

Loki, now King, returns. He brings no guard and no visible weapons. He is a weapon, and Laufey has a mind to think on what has caused this new brittle sharpness, this darkness in the now-king's eyes. Ah. They were foolish then, thinking they could hide the truth without consequence.

Laufey watches his Loptr, his child, first Prince of Jotunheim and second Prince of Asgard bare his teeth at the life-giver he never knew. Watches his child mock their desolation and despise their visage. Watches indifference laid over anxiety blanketing doubt and a deeper panic. Laufey sees his son strut and smile with hatred in his eyes, Aesir hauteur in his every breath, and knows that while the fruit falls not far from the tree, also does it not defend against the worms waiting at journeys end.

Laufey's snarls at the rank blasphemy that speaks before him, curls his lip and shares in that illusion of a smile that is bared teeth and blade-edge grin. Finds it ironic how like observing his own self it is, and knows that any son of his loins would find it equally amusing.

Odin, faithless son of a faithless son, has twisted Loptr into this Loki, this being with so little regard for his own power that he needs seek his nature in proving that he is even more bestial in physical victory than the man who took him away. Surely this Loki had never been allowed to touch the Casket in times past, but Laufey is no fool. Laufey sees the truth in the lies and the lies in truth. Even buried in Aesir glamour and deception, his child is beautiful. His child is strong. His child...is thirsty for whatever vengeance he can take for what has been made of his life and of himself. His child. Laufey gives the command for his honor guard to kill the Prince of two worlds and lifts a hand to deny the order in a mere hand-span of heartbeats.

As if any Jotun would dare truly lay hands to Laufey's get, obvious as is is from his stature and power, who and more-so what he is. As if the Aesir were ever whelped that bore the scent of deep drifts and carried the music of Ymir in his very bones. The very idea is laughable, though the pretense is necessary. Oh yes, they all see him well now.

Laufey affects boredom and listens. Listens to the so-called offer of alliance and observes the lying eyes that boldly meet his own. Knows what he would do in Loki's place; knows what will be proposed before it is spoken and forces the seeming of surprise and greed when his son offers the Casket that cannot be seen but whose presence swamps Laufey's mind. Laufey sees the shape of how things must be if Jotunheim is to have any hope for ages to come.

The truth in this lie is bitter as both their hearts. This sacrifice is one which will destroy them both, but only Laufey bears the burden of knowing the depths of what will be paid. Only Laufey, and perhaps the Vanir witch Odin also stole to cement his kingship. Death of one to save the lives of all. The soul of one, to return heart to the many. For his beloved Loptr, a stain that will never wash clean and a hunger for the death of kings which will never be satisfied.

There is no better option. Laufey-king must seem to bend. Only in showing his own weakness can he ensure his heir's strength. The ghost of Nál in Laufey delights in the opportunity for one last great jest before his end. One last bit of fun, to rival and eclipse all that Odin Kin-Stealer has achieved.

Laufey sees the shine of Ymir's spirit in the hollow smiles and jeering offerings his child brings to bear. He smells the rotten opulence of Asgard twined in the depthless boughs of Jotunheim's heart and he knows that his own day of reckoning is come. His failures have been few, but devastating. Laufey sees that if he does nothing, as has become his custom of late, his child will be lost again.

So Laufey gives his first and last gift to his child, his beloved Loptr. He hardens his heart against the agony that flows in his child's wake and he claims him runt, worthless, cast out. He does not explain that it is the Prince of Asgard to whom he speaks, and not the Prince of Jotunheim. Laufey-king gives Loki the bitterest of lies to whet his taste for destruction, he corroborates Odin's duplicity and surrenders himself to the will of the Ancestors. Laufey ensures that the heart of Jotunheim will answer to a new master. It is simple.

He allows the Aesir to believe that he has abandoned his pride. He humbles the throne, to take aid from the agent of a known enemy. He accepts the offer of the death of Odin as payment and the disgusted pity that accompanies it.

Laufey looks through the lie, and sees his son. He has no greater gift to give than his throne, free of guilt and shame. Free of Asgard, an earning his son gains by his own merit. He knows his blood, his child Loptr..this Loki, will not hesitate. There are worse endings.

Laufey looks down on his enemy, looks down on Odin's helpless husk, and feels no pity. He looks down on Odin and knows his strike will never hit its mark. He looks down on Odin and knows his words to be true - Odin's death has come, and it was set in motion by Laufey long ago, in a burst of heat, wet and pain; in a choice made before a first breath was taken; in the forgotten depths of Farbauti's smile.

Though nothing of it shows in words or actions, as gold eclipses his vision, Laufey feels pride.