Kick-ass Jotun Loki appreciation.
“Then I need no longer obey you.”
Anger seethed forth from every fibre of Loki’s being. Heimdall had never once disobeyed his father - no, not his father - forever respectful of the oath of loyalty he swore to Odin. But he was king now; and as King of Asgard, by divine right, Loki believed at the very least he deserved the same respect.
And if he couldn’t make them respect him, by Asgard, he would give them a reason to fear him. He would be known as the King that ridded the Nine Realms of Jotunheim; an accomplishment greater than any that Odin had ever contemplated, and certainly greater than any deed that Thor could ever do.
It felt like second nature, summoning the Casket to encase the gate-keeper in ice; a fitting punishment for a traitor having disobeyed his King’s order to refuse passage into or out of Asgard, Heimdall would bear witness to his master plan and be powerless to prevent it.
Loki could feel the ice as it entombed Heimdall, like it were an extension of himself. Eyes, once green, bled red; glowering hatefully at his frozen adversary.
You knew. All this time, you knew. And you just stood idly by, keeping Odin’s damned secrets. Forever the loyal servant.
Loki eyed Heimdall’s blade, stopped in its trajectory, mere inches shy of cutting his throat. With a flourish, he dismissed the Casket, his Asgardian guise imposing itself upon him once more.
He forced a laugh, cold and humourless, as he strode past Heimdall.
“You should have killed me when you had the chance.”