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The cold of Jotunheim struck like a hammer the moment the Bifrost transported them into this frozen wasteland.
"I hate this place," Hela murmured for the second time in her life, looking at the desolate landscape of blue ice and black rock that stretched to the horizon. "Every time I come here, it reminds me why we conquered it in the first place."
Loki did not answer. He was too busy trying to control his breathing, his hands trembling—not from cold, but from nerves.
Vidar placed a hand on his brother's shoulder.
"Are you sure about this?"
Loki nodded, though his face was pale.
"I have to do it. I need... I need to know. I need to face it."
"Then let's go," Vidar said. "But remember: no matter what he says, no matter how he reacts. You are my brother. That doesn't change."
Loki gave him a weak but grateful smile.
They began walking toward the ice palace rising in the distance. They did not get far before the Jotun guards surrounded them.
They were massive—over three meters tall, with dark blue skin marked by intricate patterns that glowed faintly. Their red eyes studied them with barely contained hatred.
"Asgardians," the leader growled, his voice like cracking ice. "Back so soon? Wasn't the last humiliation enough?"
His gaze fixed on Hela, and the hatred intensified.
"And you brought the Butcher. Have you come to finish what you started millennia ago?"
Hela smiled—her predatory smile that promised violence.
"If I had come to massacre you, little giant, you would already be dead."
The guard tightened his grip on his ice spear, but before he could respond, another voice echoed from the palace.
"Let them pass."
Laufey emerged from the ice doors, his massive form casting a long shadow over the snow. He looked exactly as Vidar remembered—deep blue skin, red eyes gleaming with cold intelligence, and ancient runes carved into his chest and arms. But there was something more now—a weakness in his posture, a slowness in his movements that suggested advanced age.
"The young god of balance returns," Laufey said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Already tired of playing benevolent king? Have you come to demand our submission after all?"
Vidar stepped forward, keeping his voice calm.
"No. I came to bring you someone."
Laufey's eyes narrowed with suspicion.
"Who?"
Vidar looked at Loki, who swallowed nervously. This was the moment. The moment he had been fearing and anticipating in equal measure.
Loki stepped forward, moving past Vidar. His hands trembled as he raised them in front of him.
"I am..." his voice cracked slightly. He took a deep breath and tried again. "I need to show you something."
He closed his eyes, concentrating. Vidar could see magical energy flowing through him as he tried to transform. Loki was attempting to force his true Jotun form to manifest.
For a moment, it seemed to work. Blue traces began to appear on his hands, spreading along his wrists.
But then, Odin's spell—the spell Frigga had placed on Loki when he was a baby to give him an Asgardian appearance—pulsed with resistance. It was ancient, powerful, woven into Loki's very essence.
The transformation violently reverted. The blue traces vanished, leaving Loki with his normal Asgardian appearance—pale skin, green eyes, black hair.
But the damage was done.
All the Jotun present had seen it. They had seen the blue traces. They had seen an Asgardian trying to transform into a Jotun.
A murmur rippled through the guards.
"What is this?" one asked.
"A trick?" another growled.
But Laufey... Laufey had gone completely still. His red eyes were fixed on Loki with an intensity that was almost physical.
"No," he murmured, his voice barely audible. Then, louder: "No. That can't be."
He took a step forward, studying Loki with a look that was half shock, half something darker.
"You..." Laufey narrowed his eyes. "I know those eyes. That facial structure. But that is impossible. The baby I left in the temple... was dead. Should be dead."
Silence fell like a slab of ice.
Loki found his voice, though it trembled.
"I didn't die. Odin found me. He took me to Asgard. He raised me as his son."
He lifted his chin, defiant despite the visible fear in his eyes.
"I am Loki. And I am your son. The son you abandoned to die in the cold."