Chapter 15 : THE LIBRARIES OF THE ALL-FATHER
"Your father spoke to me before the Sleep took him."
Frigga's voice was soft, barely above a whisper, but each word carried weight that pressed against Loki chest. He waited, knowing that whatever came next would matter.
"He told me about your conversation. About Jotunheim. About what you asked him." She finally looked up, and her eyes were red-rimmed but steady. "About your heritage."
She knows that I know. The secret is out—at least within the family.
"I see."
"Do you?" Her grip on Odin's hand tightened. "He was terrified, Loki. Not of your anger—he expected anger. He was terrified of your calm. He said you listened without interruption, asked one question, and walked away."
"Would hysteria have served me better?"
"It would have been normal." A tear escaped down her cheek. "We raised you. We watched you grow from an infant into a prince. We saw the shadows gathering in you—the jealousy, the resentment, the desperate need to prove yourself. And we failed you. We let those shadows grow instead of addressing them."
She's apologizing. For a thousand years of failures that weren't even mine.
"Mother—"
"Let me finish." She released Odin's hand and turned to face him fully. "When you asked Odin about your heritage, he expected the shadows to finally consume you. He expected rage, betrayal, violence. Instead, you gave him... peace. You thanked him for the truth and walked away." Her voice cracked. "That's not the son I raised. That's someone else entirely."
She's figured it out. Not the transmigration—she can't know that—but she knows something fundamental changed.
"People grow," he said carefully. "People learn. I had a vision, the night before the coronation—"
"You told me that story. I believed it then." Her eyes held his with uncomfortable intensity. "I'm not sure I believe it now."
The silence stretched between them. In the background, Odin's breathing continued its slow rhythm, oblivious to the confrontation happening beside his bed.
"What do you believe?"
"I believe something happened to my son. Something that changed him at his core—not gradually, not through growth, but all at once. I believe the Loki who went to sleep the night before Thor's coronation and the Loki who woke the next morning are not the same person."
She's not wrong.
"And if that were true?" He kept his voice level, refusing to show the fear that coiled in his gut. "If something... replaced your son? What would you do?"
"I don't know." The admission came out raw and honest. "Part of me wants to hate you—this stranger wearing my child's face. Part of me wants to mourn the son I lost without even knowing it." She paused. "But part of me—the largest part—has watched you these past days. I've seen you protect Thor from a distance. I've seen you take responsibility for the realm. I've seen you train with a dedication Loki never possessed."
"And?"
"And whoever you are, you're better than what came before." More tears now, flowing freely. "My son was broken. Wounded in ways I couldn't heal, carrying pain I couldn't touch. He was going to destroy himself—I could see it coming, the spiral that would end in ruin." She reached out, touched his face. "You're not broken. You're building something instead of tearing things apart."
She doesn't know I'm a transmigrator. She thinks I'm... what? A different version of Loki? Some kind of magical transformation?
Does it matter what she believes, as long as she accepts me?
"I don't know how to explain what happened," he said finally. "I'm not sure I understand it myself. But I can tell you this: I love you. Whatever I am, whatever changed, that hasn't changed."
"I know." Her thumb traced his cheekbone. "That's why I haven't called the guards. That's why I haven't tried to expose you or exile you or whatever protocol demands." A sad smile crossed her face. "I've lost one son to banishment and one to sleep. I won't lose a third to paranoia."
She's choosing to accept me. Despite her suspicions. Despite everything.
"Thank you."
"Don't thank me yet." She withdrew her hand, composing herself back into the queen she needed to be. "I have conditions."
"Name them."
"First: whatever you're doing in the archives, you include me. No more secret research. If you're preparing for threats, we prepare together."
Fair. She has knowledge that could help.
"Agreed."
"Second: you continue your training. Whatever power you're developing, you develop it fully. Half-measures won't protect anyone."
Already planned.
"Agreed."
"Third: when Thor returns—and he will return—you tell him something. Not everything. But something. He deserves to know his brother has changed, even if he doesn't learn why."
That's harder. Thor isn't subtle. Any hint of the truth could spread.
"I'll consider it."
"Consider it seriously." Her voice hardened. "Thor has spent his entire life competing with a shadow. If he comes home to find that shadow replaced by someone genuine—someone who actually wants to be his brother—he deserves the chance to respond."
She's right. Thor's relationship with Loki was poisoned by the original's resentment. If I want a real brotherhood, I have to give him something real to build on.
"Agreed. When the time is right."
"Good." She stood, smoothing her gown. "Now. You mentioned researching threats. I know more about the cosmos than you might expect—Odin shared many secrets with me over the centuries. Where do we start?"
The archives felt different with Frigga beside him.
She moved through the restricted sections with familiarity that suggested she'd been here before, despite the guards' belief that only Odin had access. Her fingers found scrolls that Loki had missed, pulling records from hiding places he hadn't known to check.
"Thanos," she said, unrolling a document older than any he'd found. "The Mad Titan. I wondered when you'd find him."
"You know about him?"
"I know Odin feared him. Not publicly—the All-Father couldn't be seen fearing anything—but in private, when it was just the two of us, he spoke of the Titan with a dread I rarely heard." She spread the scroll on a reading table, revealing diagrams and annotations in Odin's distinctive handwriting. "This is his assessment from two centuries ago. The threat has only grown since."
Loki studied the document. It was more detailed than anything he'd found—tactical analyses, power estimates, known associates, probable objectives.
"The Infinity Stones," he read aloud. "Thanos seeks to unite the six primordial artifacts of creation. With all six, he would possess power sufficient to reshape reality itself."
"The Space Stone is on Midgard," Frigga said quietly. "Hidden by your father after the war with the Frost Giants. The Mind Stone is in the possession of SHIELD—the mortal organization currently guarding Mjolnir. The Reality Stone sleeps in a place even I don't know, but it will wake eventually."
She knows about the Stones. She knows where they are.
"Why hasn't Odin gathered them? Protected them?"
"Because the Stones don't want to be gathered. They resist containment, corrupt guardians, attract attention from precisely the beings we'd want to avoid." Frigga's expression was grim. "Spreading them across the cosmos was a compromise—not ideal, but the best available option."
"And now Thanos is hunting them."
"He's been hunting them for centuries. What's changed is that he's becoming more aggressive. The probe toward Thor was reconnaissance—testing our response capabilities, measuring how quickly we'd react to a threat against the royal family."
She figured that out too. She's been thinking about this longer than I have.
"What do we do?"
"We prepare." Frigga began pulling more documents from the shelves. "We build alliances with realms that share our concerns. We develop defenses against the specific threats he'll bring. We train—you especially—until we're capable of fighting at a level that matters."
"That could take years."
"It will take years. Possibly decades." Her eyes met his. "That's why I'm glad the new you is so dedicated to responsibility. The old Loki would have dismissed this as someone else's problem. You're actually willing to work."
Because I know what's coming. Because I've seen the movies. Because I know exactly how bad it gets if we fail.
"What about Hela?"
Frigga's expression froze. "Where did you hear that name?"
"The archives. There are fragments—military records with attributed commanders erased, references to 'Asgard's champion' with no identity attached. Someone was deliberately removed from history."
"Odin's firstborn." The words came out like broken glass. "His daughter. My... predecessor's child."
Predecessor. Odin had another wife before Frigga.
"What happened to her?"
"She was the Goddess of Death. The commander of Asgard's armies during the expansion wars. She helped Odin build this empire through conquest and blood." Frigga's voice dropped. "And when Odin decided that conquest was no longer the path forward, she refused to stop. She tried to seize the throne. Odin imprisoned her—locked her away in a dimension that only his life force keeps sealed."
"When Odin dies—"
"She breaks free. Yes." Frigga's face was pale. "That's why the Odinsleep concerns me so much. Every time he enters it, the seal weakens slightly. And if he were to die unexpectedly..."
Ragnarok. The destruction of Asgard. It's all connected to Hela's return.
"Can the seal be strengthened?"
"I don't know. Odin never trusted anyone else with the details." She gestured at the archives around them. "If the information exists, it's here somewhere. But finding it..."
"Then we find it." Loki pulled another armful of scrolls toward him. "We have until Odin wakes, at minimum. Maybe longer if we work fast."
"You're serious about this."
"I'm serious about protecting the people I care about." He met her eyes. "That includes you. That includes Thor, when he comes home. That includes Asgard itself."
Frigga studied him for a long moment—really looked, the way only a mother could, searching for truth beneath surface performance.
"The old Loki would never have said that," she said finally. "He would have focused on himself. On his own survival. On proving something to people who weren't listening."
"The old Loki was afraid."
"And you're not?"
"I'm terrified." The admission came easier than expected. "I'm terrified of Thanos. I'm terrified of Hela. I'm terrified of failing the people who are counting on me." He paused. "But fear doesn't mean I get to stop. It just means I work harder."
Something shifted in Frigga's expression. The wariness that had lingered since her revelation in the healing chambers began to fade, replaced by something warmer. Something like acceptance.
"Then let's work harder together." She pulled a chair beside his. "Show me what you've found so far."
They researched until dawn.
The archives gave up their secrets slowly, reluctantly, like an old man finally admitting truths he'd kept hidden for too long. Loki learned about threats he'd never imagined—beings of cosmic significance that made Thanos look manageable, events that could reshape reality itself, artifacts that could unmake everything he was trying to protect.
But he also learned defenses. Strategies. Weaknesses that could be exploited.
And most importantly, he learned that he wasn't alone.
Frigga's knowledge filled gaps he hadn't known existed. Her understanding of magic opened doors he'd assumed were locked. Her willingness to work beside him—to trust him despite her suspicions—gave him something he'd been missing since waking in Loki's body.
Partnership. Real partnership with someone who knew he wasn't quite what he seemed.
When the first light of morning filtered through the archive windows, they'd barely scratched the surface.
"We should rest," Frigga said, though she made no move to leave. "The council meets again in six hours."
"I'll manage."
"You'll burn out." Her voice carried maternal authority. "Four hours of sleep. That's an order from your queen."
"You're not my queen. You're my mother."
"Then it's an order from your mother." A ghost of a smile. "I outrank the queen anyway."
He laughed—actually laughed, surprised by how good it felt. The sound echoed through the empty archives, strange and warm in the dusty silence.
"Four hours," he agreed. "Then back to work."
"Then back to work."
They walked out of the archives together, mother and whatever-he-was, united by purpose and the weight of knowledge that would have crushed weaker souls.
Behind them, the scrolls waited. Thanos waited. Hela waited.
But for the first time since waking in a god's body, Loki felt like he might actually have a chance.
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