In the night, Loki and Weth had retreated to his bedchamber. After several rounds of passionate love-making, the two fell asleep in each other's arms. Loki awoke the next morning in Weth's sweet embrace, her legs wrapped around his hips. He remained completely still so as not to wake her. His eyes took in her face, peaceful with slumber. A stray curl had fallen in front of her face, and her lips were slightly parted with the heavy breath of sleep. Loki brushed the strand of hair behind her ear, noticing that her dark lashes nearly reached the top of her cheekbones. He smiled, perfectly content in that moment. Before long, Weth began to stir. She stretched her arms as her lids lifted, revealing her smoldering irises. She smiled, still groggy, and placed her hand on Loki's cheek. She chuckled softly.

"I always manage to ruin your well-groomed hair," she said, her hand moving to straighten his tresses. Loki grabbed her wrist, and pressed a kiss to her palm.

"I love the way you ruin my hair," he asserted with a smirk. She grinned, and planted a kiss on his forehead. Loki pulled Weth close, resting his head on her shoulder. His thoughts began to wander.

He thought of the previous evening's revelation, and his heart sank. He pondered whether or not to tell Weth about his true lineage; he immediately dismissed the thought. He never wanted her to know that he was a Frost Giant. He feared that this realization would cause her to abandon him—he would not blame her for doing so. However, he knew he could not handle such rejection. He felt selfish and cowardly, but those feelings did not sting as much as loneliness. His thoughts then travelled to his status as King. He knew that Odin would eventually wake, and resume the throne. At best, Loki would have to concede to the Allfather. In the dark pits of his mind, Loki feared that Odin would revoke Thor's banishment. The day would soon come when he would have to let go of his power; either to Odin or to Thor. His stomach churned. He failed to notice that Weth was speaking.

"Darling?" She repeated herself, her eyes clouding with concern. Loki snapped out of his reverie, and met her gaze.

"Yes, dove?"

"I recognize that look in your eyes," she knowingly stated, "you are troubled. Tell me what troubles you." Loki was taken off guard by her accurate perception; perhaps she knew him too well. Refusing to unveil his actual origin, he decided to discuss the issue of the throne.

"The Allfather is in Odinsleep, which is a temporary state," he began, fixing his eyes on a freckle beneath Weth's collarbone, "meaning he will wake before long." Weth searched his eyes. Loki chose to be blunt. "I believe my rule will be short-lived." Weth closed her eyes and inhaled deeply.

"And what after that?" She inquired, reaching for his hand.

"I have not the slightest idea." He solemnly returned.

"Will you fight for the throne?" She propped her head up with her elbow. Loki sighed, rubbing his eyes.

"I can only hope that the Allfather sees me fit to rule."

"This is not the Loki I have come to love," she placed her hand under his chin, forcing him to meet her gaze. "Where is that spark? That desire?" Loki avoided making eye contact by leaning in to kiss Weth's neck.

"I assure you, I am the same." He mumbled against her skin, visions of Frost Giants racing before his eyes. She huffed, clearly irritated with his evasiveness, and turned her back to Loki. He grasped her hips and pulled her close until their bodies were pressed together. He wound his arms around her waist and kissed her shoulder.

"I love you, Weth. More than anything in the nine realms." She melted into his embrace.

"I love you, too."

In a matter of days, Loki's world fell to pieces. He had concocted a scheme in which he lured King Laufey to Asgard; he bribed him—with the promise of returning the Casket of Ancient Winters—to attempt to assassinate Odin himself. The crucial part of this operation was that Loki murdered Laufey just before the assassination attempt occurred; Loki hoped that his faux act of valor would earn Odin's favor. It was all for naught.

Loki mulled over his heritage, and grew to despise it with ferocious venom. He rashly made the decision to destroy Jotunheim, along with the entire Jotun race. He foolishly believed that erasing the entire population would in turn erase his Jotun lineage. This act required the use of the Bifrost, and thus the elimination of Heimdall; wielding the Casket of Ancient Winters, Loki found the ability to freeze him in his tracks. He was well aware of the risk involved; he had not calculated Thor's reappearance into his plan.

Loki discovered that Thor was alive and well on Midgard—albeit powerless. He had sent The Destroyer to exterminate his brother; as King, Loki could easily access this voracious weapon. Loki never imagined that Thor would survive, let alone regain his powers. Thor appeared just as Loki began to destroy Jotunheim. The brothers clashed in vicious battle, deep-seeded resentment fueling Loki's every move. He soon found himself struggling against Thor's mighty strength, and was pinned to the ground. As Loki writhed against his restraint, Thor bashed Mjolnir against the bridge. With a thunderous cracking sound, the Bifrost was sucked into the abyss, dragging the brothers closely behind.

Thor held onto the shattered bridge with one hand, Loki's spear in the other. Loki clutched to the end of the spear, dangling into the void. His heart raced. He turned his eyes upward, and found Odin standing at the edge of the bridge. As Thor slipped, Odin grasped his calf, anchoring him. Odin's face burned with disappointment and anger. Loki could only imagine exactly what the Allfather had seen during his Odinsleep. Childish need ripped through his heart.

"I could have done it, Father!" He cried out, tears stinging his eyes. Odin's face remained stony. "I could have done it! For you! For all of us!"

"No, Loki." Came Odin's frigid reply. In that moment, Loki watched every moment of his life in his mind's eye. He saw a pathetic, cruel boy, undeserving of love or attention. A tear rolled down his cheek. He no longer wanted to live. He let go of the spear, and fell into the chasm. He could hear Thor call out to him as his body plummeted into nothingness. He closed his eyes, drowning in bitter anguish. Tears streamed down his face as he waited for death. In the last moments before he reached his ultimate destination, his eyes snapped open.

"Weth…" he whispered to himself, a fresh wave of agony consuming him.