Surrender, Chapter 6: Desperate Measures

When Odin entered the great hall Thor was awaiting him patiently. Thor knelt with right fist to heart as was customary reverence when addressing the king for counsel.  “Good morning, father. I am sorry to disturb your daily respite, but I wanted to speak with you immediately.”

“Next time, my son, you may come to me personally. I would speak with you straight away without formalities if it is so urgent a matter.” Odin took a seat upon his throne. “Now then, why do you seek an audience with me, my son?”

Thor stood slowly, and his face wore a mask of regret and disgrace. “It is for a formal matter that I have come. Father...” The words seemed difficult for him to utter, as if we were forcing them, “I have come to relinquish my claim to Asgard’s throne. I am not fit to succeed you as king.”

So, is this Loki’s plan? Odin’s mouth tightened at his son’s statement. He spoke calmly, even though he felt quite the opposite. “You are entitled to abdicate succession. But I will not recognize it without sensible reason. Now tell me, my son, why are you unfit to succeed me as king of Asgard?”

“I have neither the wisdom nor intellect as befits a ruler, father. I would regret placing Asgard in danger due to my incompetence. My conscience would not allow me to continue posing as successor. Please allow me to step down, father.” Thor’s brow furrowed abashedly, and he kept his head bowed to avoid meeting his father’s gaze. His son’s shameful countenance bothered Odin greatly. The boy acts as if he’s already endangered the realm. What has happened to make Thor doubt himself this gravely?

“Well then,” Odin stood and descended the dais deliberately and approached Thor, “Indulge me, my son. In light of your confession, who would be more fit to rule, if not you?”

“You have another son, father. Custom dictates that succession would pass to him.”

Odin was beginning to lose his calm tone. He would not allow this folly to continue. Accusation and anger—not toward the son before him, but the absent one—began to bleed into his words. “And he is more fit than you, Thor? Not a month past you claimed Loki was ill—befallen with sickness, you said. Is he well now? Is his selfish heart fit to rule a kingdom when it has not been fit to rule even himself?”

Odin stopped barely a pace away from him, prickling with growing contempt toward Loki. Thor lowered his eyes meekly. But before his son could answer, another voice answered for him.

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“Am I really so unfit to rule Asgard, father?” Loki’s voice rang through the hall with cool confidence. He had assumed his full regalia—armor, helmet, cloak—in addition to L’Shale in his grip. He descended the wide staircase and approached his father and brother with a casual swagger that suggested his battle was all but won. “Are my skills so underappreciated? Am I so detestable that you would ignore the wishes of your beloved firstborn—your only true son?” Loki gestured toward Thor, and Thor flinched visibly at the attention. “You cannot avoid the inevitable, Odin. If Thor should abdicate, the position of heir falls to me.” He paused a few paces away and planted L’Shale firmly in conquest.

“You are correct, Loki,” Odin answered truthfully, “But I cannot recognize Thor’s abdication.”

“Why not? He spoke the words sincerely. It has been done.”

“I propose the same reasons Thor chose for your defense, my son. Thor is ill. It would be an injustice to judge the actions of another while they are afflicted by illness—” Odin leveled his gaze at Loki, “or while they are under duress.” It was obvious Odin was giving Loki a way out of the situation.

Loki considered backing down for the briefest moment, but L’Shale’s reckless energy called to him—it pulsed under the taut rope of control. The smile on Loki’s face faded to a grimace. “Your ill-disguised guidance is foolish. You’ll regret not confronting me sooner.” Loki tilted L’Shale forward at Odin.

Odin raised his own staff of office with a king’s authority, “I do not know what power has possessed you, but I ask you one last time to reverse whatever damages you have done or I will be forced to do it for you, boy.”

Loki only snarled in response and mentally eased L’Shale’s bindings. Although the high paled in comparison to L’Shale’s first exhilarating race through his mind, he bathed in the hot rush and let it fill him as much as the short leash he held would allow. L’Shale’s need to burn the world now became his own.

Loki tried to keep a steady hand on the rope in his mind that bound the spirit, but L’Shale now knew Loki’s weaknesses—he understood Loki’s thirst for power. Loki heard L’Shale call to him again. But this time there was a voice. Loki. L’Shale’s voice was a slow, smoldering flow of magma. The voice was in his mind, but the sound was deafening. Burn with me, Loki. Your heart is as mine—jealous, hateful, hungry. I have seen your mind. Use me. We will strike him down, Loki. Use me to claim your power. Let me in, Loki.

Loki stifled the urge to claw at his burning ears. He thought L’Shale had somehow spoken aloud, but Odin’s lack of reaction proved the spirit spoke only to him. He could feel L’Shale straining at his bonds, burning them to ash with every moment that ticked by. L’Shale would be free this time if Loki could not suppress him, and the only place the spirit could go was into Loki’s mind.

Loki’s thoughts deliberated quickly. L’Shale’s offerings of conquest were tempting, and Loki’s conviction was faltering. I can use him. His power is overwhelming, but If I let him help me, then together we can overthrow Odin—  Somehow practical reason chimed in. Fool! L’Shale is much too powerful for you to contain. If you allow him control, he might be able to destroy Odin...but what of yourself? Self-preservation above all. Curb your rage and end this struggle. You cannot allow L’Shale to control you. Do not give your power away so easily.

“No!” Loki spoke aloud in defiance of L’Shale’s goading. He was oblivious to his outward conversation with Odin who would have expected this to be an answer to his question. Loki’s voice cracked under the mental strain to hold L’Shale at bay, “I control you!” Loki grasped at the charring bonds fruitlessly. His strength was fading.

Loki... L’Shale’s smoky voice rumbled again like coals shifting in a forge. If you refuse to act, then I shall do it for you. L’Shale torched the last of his bonds and set Loki’s reality ablaze. Pain gripped him mentally and physically; his head felt like a screaming kettle ready to burst. He closed his eyes and pressed his free hand to one side of his head. “I will not be used! Not again!” Agony washed over him, and his knees began to buckle, but as before he was unable to release the staff from his grip.

Thor, seemingly forgotten in the midst of the confrontation, backed away several paces. The glamour still held him in paralyzing self-doubt, preventing him from acting as he normally would. If he’d been himself, subduing Loki would be an easy task. Now it seemed an unthinkable endeavour, a leap across a bottomless chasm.

Odin became aware that Loki must be under the staff’s influence and advanced toward him to knock it away. Loki’s eyes shot open and stared at Odin, blazing hot coals in their place. He pulled back from Odin instinctively, fluidly. L’Shale reached through Loki and used the staff’s glamour to blind Odin. L’Shale was in control of Loki, mind and body. With head held high he gave a growling chuckle of amusement. It was not Loki’s voice that left his lips, but a facsimile of L’Shale’s voice, “So you are indeed susceptible to the glamour. This will be too easy.” He levelled the staff at Odin, preparing to strike.

Odin paused his advance. He eyed his possessed son warily, but his gaze looked straight through him. “Who am I really dealing with here? You may have blinded me, but I can feel where you’ve touched my mind. I can feel your burning hatred. Let go of my son and reverse the damage you’ve wrought or face my wrath.” Odin struggled to throw off the illusion of darkness.

As soon as Loki realized L’Shale would break free, he fled to a safe place within his mind. His entire inner world burned, but he shut his consciousness away deep within it—a sanctuary surrounded by flames. He reached out for control of himself over and over, but met searing pain each time he tried. He continued unsuccessfully, but vowed patience would have to do for now even though failure meant eradication. L’Shale meant to take control of Loki’s being wholly and burn whatever was left of the previous owner.

Odin threw off the illusion and lunged toward Loki. When his hand gripped L’Shale, he winced, but held tightly. Angrily he cursed Loki’s selfishness, “So, you sought to control what Freyr had to lock away himself. You are power-hungry fool, Loki!” L’Shale sneered at Odin through Loki’s eyes. “Release my son, you hateful spirit!”

Loki could hear his father’s words, but it took all his concentration to attempt to regain control of himself. The walls of his mind burned even hotter. He could not bear the volcanic heat of L’Shale’s energy much longer—his soul would turn to ash.

“I said release him!” Odin’s staff emitted a blinding light that caused even L’Shale to shield his fiery eyes. L’Shale recoiled, and both king and spirit let go of the staff. A minute fluctuation in power occurred within Loki, the briefest of hesitations.

A fraction of a moment was all Loki needed to reassert control over his own body. L’Shale was powerful, but not infallible. Patience paid off for once. Before the staff could fall to the floor, Loki snatched it from the air, turned on the spot, and formed a gateway. Odin was still regaining his composure as Loki stepped through. The gateway collapsed behind him before Odin could follow.