Loki hated sleepless nights. He hated how insomnia would leave him vulnerable to emotions he thought he had buried ages ago. But what good did it leave him with, if not for the privilege to fight them off? If he let them prevail, they would live on and haunt him until the day he decided to accept the fate of death. And yet, if he fought, which he did, they would squander beneath his might. It would be his own validation of defiance to the voices who tried to contradict him. The weakening of his conscience.
Even his own thoughts lied to him.
And thus it left him with such an inescapable predicament that he found himself tossing and turning, crinkling the satin sheets. He squeezed his eyes shut and frowned. Now, his own room was against him. It was too hot. It was too quiet. His thoughts were too loud.
Sleep. I just... want... sleep.
No, sleep was not considered a grace the Norns thought he deserved. Despite his consistency to lie and favor his own well being, he was always paying for it. But he had dug a hole too deep to climb back up. The pit lay scattered in temptations of staying, comforted by the safety and cover of darkness. He was inclined to stay, persuaded by his fear of what would happen if he were to climb back up again. And yet, even still, he wondered what it held in store.
Go away! Let these thoughts end!
The bed was no longer comfortable and his body increased its restlessness. Groaning, out of annoyance and exhaustion, he sat up and released a tired breath. The room had a heavy air that weighed in his chest, its warmth overwhelming. This was not how he pictured spending the nights in his newfound luxury. He had envisioned peace and prosperity, his soul comforted by victory that he was king. He was the new sovereign ruler of Asgard. But no... his soul was not comforted, and it refused to be at peace. Rather, it attacked him in the midst of his precious, fragile thoughts.
He blinked his dry eyes and rubbed the back of his neck. There would be no sleep. Not this night. Standing up, he walked over to the doors that lead to his balcony, parading through, even in moonlight. A gentle, chilled wind greeted him with an embrace that put his body at ease; although temporary, he welcomed it. Under the cover of magic, no one would see him standing there, tall and pale, his dark hair draped to his shoulders. Very much unlike the hunched, old and gray man he had been impersonating the past month. Even when dropping his cover, magic was still at work.
Pressing his palms to the stone of the balcony rails and feeling the breeze comb his hair, he gazed upon the kingdom. His kingdom. Every home and market and treasury were his province. Never before had he seen Asgard in such a glory. The people had all they could ever want and need, even the promise of a statue in his honor. His stage of fine arts in the courtyard was underway, and he believed for years that the Asgardians needed a means for entertainment other than parties of eating and drinking, overfilling themselves with either. Yes, he was the king they deserved. He was perfect. Better than Odin and even Thor. There need not be worries or conflicts.
Yet, why do I fight with my mind?
Bringing his gaze up to the stars, he could imagine his mother smiling down at him. She would be so proud of his prosperity and urge him on to accomplish more. But was she really smiling? Yes, of course. She must be. She always used to smile, especially for him. How he missed her loving arms around him, her words of promises that he would find the sunshine. He wanted her to be there when he did... no, see that he did. This was the sunshine, wasn't it?
Loki retreated back into his room, pacing a little and turning his thoughts. The energy would bury his emotions and he would be able to properly think. He would battle his mind no longer. Tiring of his room, he gathered up his reserves of magic, slipping himself under an illusion of Odin and entering the dim halls. The library was a haven he would escape to often on nights like this. Worlds of hidden knowledge between the pages helped his mind to escape reality. He would go there.
"Your Majesty?"
A voice halted him in his tracks. Loki turned to see a lone Einherjar patrolling the hallway.
"Another sleepless night?" The guard inquired.
"Yes." Loki was quick to reply, speaking with his voice but hearing that of Odin's. "It is."
"Pray tell, should I fetch a healer for you, Majesty?"
His face twisted a little. "I... no. Do not bother them at such an hour." And turning away, he departed, not wishing to discuss his situation with anyone, especially a palace guard.
Summoning a candle in his left hand, Loki entered the library, the silver moonlight shining through the towering window on the east wall. Bookshelves reached the ceiling like the trees on Asgard's edge. They had been made from the very same wood of those trees and still smelled of fresh sap. Setting the candle on a nearby table, Loki searched through the labyrinth of books, having memorized every shelf and which ones promised the greatest stories. Although he had spent a great many years reading, there were always new editions and hidden volumes he had never seen before, and those were the ones he had been seeking out first. Picking one, and then another, he debated which one to read.
***
The pile he gathered grew as the hours ticked by, midnight long past. He was sure he had read every selection of astronomy this library held, for every sentence of those books held a sense of familiarity to them. Loki soon grew tired. Some nights of book hunting went better than others, and this was not his lucky night. But maybe he would have enjoyed them, if not for feeling so drained.
Soon, the surrounding books he selected were a bore, and he wondered if he would have better luck searching higher on the shelves. He dreaded having to leave his comfortable position by the window, however, so he stayed in place for another half hour.
Then, with reluctance, he stood and made way for the ladders. There were two balconies in the library, giving three levels to its architecture. Loki never spent time on the third level and decided to change his custom for the night. He climbed and reached the second balcony.
There was a new sense of privacy and loneliness up on the third level. Loki felt free to drop his illusions, but the silence was unnerving. He searched quickly for a book. The first one he found was a series of Norn history, which bored him. His mother had told him all the tales. The next was the first of many books on the history of the realms. Every shelf on this level contained volumes of meaningless history books, nothing that sparked his interest. Nothing that involved magic or legends of what could be. Clearly, these shelves were the archives. No wonder he never explored it before.
Frustration came off of him like a wave, and in his sheer exhaustion, Loki didn't realize he had released some magic until the books on the shelf came crashing down, a few hitting his head.
"Ow..." he mumbled, more frustrated than hurt.
Kneeling in the midst of the pile, Loki dug through them, carefully examining how old the covers were, brown and torn, the pages yellowed and ink smeared. They were ancient, but these that had fallen from the highest shelf were worthy of being admired. Loki could only wonder how many centuries of wisdom these held, unlike the history books that speculated what happened based off of tales passed on. These would have been written in the era of the history. They would be real.
He started reading one by one, his eyes wide with wonder from the stories of civilation's birth, how the realms became prosperous, how the Norns appointed the first rulers of the lands. There was a story about a woman who first discovered and mastered the art of illusions and trickery to persuade the people into making her queen. Loki admired her ability to persuade a kingdom without any royal blood. He knew he still had much to learn, but would never admit so.
What Loki loved most about these old history books was they were not surfaced in their storytelling. They were personal. They told how history was made from the very lives that inhabited the era. It felt so alive to him. An hour past and he finished the first volume.
After finishing the second, he dug around the fallen books for the third. The rest of them were documents and encyclopedias, dictionaries and others he did not care to even look at. By now, he was wild with a second wind of no sleep, and upon finding the third book, he scrambled to read it.
The first page caught his breath in his throat. His heart seemed to stall when illustrations of six colorful stones were staring back at him on the page. The Infinity Stones that had brought him such pain, but such power. In every attempt to forget them, he still wanted at least one.
Loki read on, admiring the descriptions of each stone; they were capable of more than what even Thanos had seemed to know. What I could do with such power... It would tear Asgard apart, but to imagine made him so hungry for it.
Turning the pages one by one, having had his fill of their origins, Loki playfully fanned the remaining pages to find that the other half were empty. Frowning, he kept on turning them over. They tingled his fingertips as if a spell hid their contents from the simple minded. By all means, Loki was far from simple. He whispered under his breath to break the spell, watching it dissolve and reveal their treasures.
"The Infinity Fractals," the book read, "are three shards torn from the stones of creation." Loki's eyes grew wide. He read on. "They rest in the unknown corners of the galaxy, evolving from what had once been their original elements. Now, they remain as this universe's balance, along with the remaining stones." Reading fast, Loki read page after page. In conclusion, whomever was worthy enough to own all eighteen Infinity Fractals would be deemed the Master of the Universe. Of course, a title so great was practically impossible to achieve, for no one knew the true origins of the shards, nor could they handle the power.
Such knowledge would drive Loki mad, he knew it. And to think that Asgard's very own library held this knowledge wound his mind up into a frenzy. Had Odin known about it? Surely, if this knowledge was widely accessible, the universe would search endlessly and tear themselves apart. There was a reason magic had been hiding the other half of this book.
Taking the book and rushing down the ladder, Loki took his candle and became Odin once more until he had reached the safety of his room. Of course there would be no sleep, but now he had a reason to stay awake. A reason that he chose.