Within the deep-sea palace, numerous deities gathered around the wide wooden table. The table, large enough to seat over a thousand, was laden with an unparalleled array of delicacies from all realms of creation - the heavens, earth, and sea; creatures winged and wingless; meats and plants alike - all the flavors of the world concentrated into this one feast.
The gods, disconsolate over the death of Balder, the god of light, had all gathered here at the invitation of Aegir, the old god of the sea, to lift their spirits. All were present save for Thor, who was still far away battling the Frost Giants. Those deities who had been particularly close with Balder wore sorrowful expressions, sighing deeply and cursing Loki.
But in the end, the delicious food and lively atmosphere alleviated everything, gradually transforming the originally somewhat somber banquet into a boisterous and joyous one.
Odin, the king of the gods, sat silently at the head of the table, his profound single eye carrying an unfathomable glimmer, as if contemplating something.
Beside him, Aegir, the host, appeared quite calm. He wouldn't involve himself too much in the conflicts among the Aesir. Having long maintained a neutral stance between the giants and the gods, he was very clear about that invisible boundary.
Although he had gathered the gods to feast, he also wouldn't say too much, just maintaining this silence, neither distant nor close.
"Odin, I express my sorrow over the passing of Balder, the god of light."
Aegir turned to Odin beside him, his face showing a timely hint of grief.
Odin's face was impassive towards Aegir's sorrow. After a long silence, he suddenly said softly,
"He's here."
The divine king's voice was extremely soft, nearly inaudible over the lively clamor of the grand feast. Only Aegir, seated closest to him, reacted.
"What? Who are you saying is here?"
Aegir frowned, pressing the question.
Just then, a commotion suddenly came from outside the palace.
"You can't… no, you can't go in."
Outside the palace, the urgent voices of Aegir's two servants, Fimafeng and Eldir, reached inside. The gods all looked towards the palace entrance, only to see that despite the servants' desperate obstruction, a familiar figure still continued to walk in.
In an instant, the originally joyous and boisterous palace fell silent. Looking at the newcomer, the gods were all stunned. Only the visitor's footsteps echoed in the palace, unhurried.
"Thump… thump… thump…"
Against the backdrop of the deep sea, under the gods' stares, the slender Loki walked in, a broad smile on his handsome face, the same smile as always. Looking at the gods before him, he spread his arms and said with a grin,
"Most noble gods, such a grand feast! I wonder if I might be invited?"
But before him, the only response was a sea of gloomy and hostile eyes.
Looking up and down, left and right, far and near… everywhere was filled with displeasure and ill intent. Not a single gaze held a shred of goodwill towards him.
Loki had long been prepared for this. He simply said with a faint smile,
"I've come from afar, truly parched and famished. I wonder if you Aesir gods could grant this traveler a cup of mead to quench my thirst?"
With that, he gave a light bow, his demeanor so courteous it was hard to refuse.
However, a cold, mocking voice immediately rang out from the table.
"Hah! The gods have their own criteria for who may join the divine feast. Not just anyone can participate."
Loki turned towards the voice and saw Bragi, the god of poetry, sitting at one spot of the feast, looking at him with derision. He was Odin's son, god of all bards, his eloquence unmatched among the gods.
Loki slightly furrowed his brows. He didn't want to argue with this silver-tongued deity. Instead, he raised his head to look at Odin, seated in the place of highest honor. From the moment Loki stepped into the palace, Odin had been silently watching him.
Or rather, he had been watching the wide-open palace doors the entire time, waiting for the figure that was about to appear.
The lofty ruler of the Nine Worlds, king of the Aesir gods, and the evil god cast out of Asgard, god of fire and deceit - both had already glimpsed the future and understood what would happen next. They were both well aware of the misfortune Loki was about to suffer, but neither said anything.
With just a glance, the thoughts between the two were already clear.
Loki wanted to use this chance to make a final attempt at reconciliation, but his desire to have the three siblings released was something Odin could never agree to. And if Odin couldn't agree, the divide between them could never be bridged.
Gazing deeply at the handsome youth before him, the aged divine king said in a deep voice,
"Loki."
He didn't say much more, just using this to serve as a greeting.
Before him, Loki calmly said,
"Odin, you swore an oath… We are blood brothers. Any mead not meant for us to drink together, you absolutely would not drink alone. Now… this traveler wishes to drink a cup of mead to quench his thirst. I wonder if you would agree?"
His voice was deep, carrying a strange hidden meaning. Odin understood his words but didn't directly answer. Instead, he was silent for a moment before softly saying,
"I swore an oath. Any mead not meant for us to drink together, I absolutely would not drink alone. Loki, sit."
With that, he tapped the thick table with his index finger. Immediately, a sapling rapidly grew out from the end of the table. The sapling swiftly expanded, and in no time, it had grown into a seat resembling a wicker chair.
Loki glanced at him. Whether intentionally or not, when reciting that oath, Odin had omitted the first half…
His heart was already bitter and bleak, but he still maintained the smile on his face. He sat down with ease, completely ignoring the displeasure and disgust on the faces of the surrounding gods.
The Great Serpent said that fate was the fantasy of weak worms towards the futures they could not control. In its eyes, there was never any fate. Everything was what life itself made, with no one manipulating it.
"Shackles? There were never any shackles, to begin with. You have always lived freely in this universe, able to go anywhere. When have you ever had any shackles? What traps you is merely your own thoughts."
The Great Serpent's mocking laughter still echoed in his ears. Loki didn't know if it was correct, but at this moment, he only knew that regardless of whether those certain or uncertain futures were fate, he had to face them head-on, to confront the fear in his heart.
…
At the boisterous grand feast, the gods laughed wantonly. The small episode hadn't interrupted their feasting at all. They laughed as if they hadn't noticed Loki at all.
Yes, in the entire banquet, not a single deity had spoken a word to Loki, not a single one had looked at Loki. In the lively and clamorous feast, all the gods acted as if they didn't see Loki at all.
Amidst all this liveliness and noise, only the seat beside Loki was incomparably quiet…
Quiet as if he was alone.
Loki silently observed everything, quietly drinking by himself, looking at the gods before him, feeling the contempt and mockery that seemed written on their faces, as if looking at a beggar, condescendingly giving him a bit of food but not taking him seriously at all.
This blatant ridicule and mockery enveloped Loki. He endured it all alone in silence. Only, the smile originally on his face gradually faded, replaced by an increasingly cold expression.
"Hahaha…"
Amidst the laughter, the gods continued to drink with abandon.
Suddenly, Loki took a deep breath. The mocking smile returned to his gloomy face. Then he stood up, raising the mead in his ox horn cup, and loudly said,
"All the gods of Asgard! Let us down this cup!"
With Loki's sudden standing, the originally boisterous feast fell silent. Or rather, all the gods had been waiting for this moment, waiting for Loki to act out.
Loki looked around, sweeping his gaze over the gods before him, and continued,
"All the goddesses of Asgard! Let us down this cup!"
His voice didn't stop. He raised the mead in his hand high once more and loudly shouted again,
"All you holier-than-thou gods! Let us down this cup!"
As he spoke, a hint of mockery appeared on his face, his eyes already cold to the extreme. He could feel that with his words, the gazes around him were growing more and more hostile.
Perhaps, as long as the slightest displeasure appeared on Odin's face, they would angrily rush up and tear him to pieces.
The corner of Loki's mouth curled up slightly, his face showing no fear. Instead, it held his most frequent expression of an ambiguous smile. Then he looked towards one spot at the table and mockingly said,
"All except Bragi, god of poetry, seated at the far end. He is unworthy of drinking this cup."
With Loki's mocking voice, in his line of sight, Bragi's face first showed astonishment, then immediately turned to deep anger.