Archive of Our Own

I had been a good son. Or at least I had tried to be.

I had thought that I was a good son.

So of course I was confused and hurt and always wondering. I was a good son, wasn't I?

So why did you always treat me different, Father? Why did you always treat him better?

You called me son. You claimed that what I was didn't matter to you.

Your actions said otherwise.

You always favored him. He was always the better son  to you, wasn't he?

I was always smarter than him. I was always faster than him, more clever!

The only thing he had over me was strength. Oh, and your love, I suppose.

I was never quite good enough for you, was I Father? I could never quite compare, because I was never really yours.

Always I was Laufey's son in your eye, no matter what you told the other Aesir. I did not belong.

It finally all makes sense, knowing now that everything you had brought me up to believe was a lie.

I never was, I am not, your son.

You never truly loved me.

He is not my brother, your wife is not my mother.

I do not fit because I am wrong.

I was kept because I might one day have been useful.

But my brother has ruined even that small thing for me, hasn't he?

He's stolen even that small fraction of your love from me with that stupid, foolish, idiotic war.

I can not even be loved by you in the way that a man might love a useful tool.

I did everything I possibly could for you, Father.

I tried to save our kingdom.

I tried to save you.

I tried, Father.

I tried.

So why can't you love me?