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Before the Mad Titan crushes Loki’s neck in the opening salvo of Avengers: Infinity War, the God of Mischief turns to his adopted brother seeking approval and acceptance, both of which escaped him for over a thousand years. “I, Loki, prince of Asgard,” he says, announcing himself to Thanos. After a brief pause, he turns one last time to the once-mighty Thor.

“Odinson,” he continues, embracing the non-familial parentage forced upon him in childhood.

On-screen, the moment plays to Loki’s long arc towards redemption and gives the audience reason to mourn the former villain’s death. He dies on the Statesman not as a child of Jotunheim, but in service to the Allfather and the emotional needs of the audience.

The real tragedy of Loki of Asgard in the Marvel Cinematic Universe is how his character arc perpetuates the “savior myth of adoption.” Loki becomes a martyr to a system and a society that celebrates adoption while ignoring the fundamental grief and emotional damage induced by family separation. His is the story of a little blue baby icicle that dismisses a critical biological and psychological truth: adoption is trauma.

Some experts believe that trauma can begin at birth when mother and child break their physiological bond. Nancy Newton Verrier’s seminal text “The Primal Wound” describes the separation as a loss that can affect adopted children throughout their lives. Psychologists and researchers in the field of obstetrics have both noted that even in utero, a human fetus can hear its mother’s voice and experience and process rejection — thus explains Loki’s reaction to learning his Frost Giant lineage in the first Thor film.

Underneath the Asgardian Temple, in Odin’s relic room, the God of Mischief confronts the Allfather about his past. Though he’s nonplussed to learn he’s of Jotun descent, the revelation comes as a confirmation of sorts to Loki. He’s always known that he’s different; the primal wound has been with him since birth.

“It all makes sense, now, why you favored Thor all these years,” Loki screams at Odin upon learning the truth. “Because no matter how much you claim to love me, you could never have a Frost Giant sitting on the throne of Asgard.”

An adopted child’s affective behavior may stem from the grief they carry inside, according to Newton Verrier. When the child acts out, it’s incumbent upon the new family to accept this burden and understand it as mourning loss. Too often, parents dismiss adopted children as troublesome, or, as in the case of Loki, mischievous.

In Thor: Ragnarok, for example, the titular character gives filmgoers a glimpse into his adopted brother’s childhood. Huddled around Valkyrie and the always-angry Bruce Banner, Thor recalls one of Loki’s earliest schemes.

“There was one time when we were children, he transformed himself into a snake, and he knows that I love snakes,” whispers Thor with Loki chained behind him. “So, I went to pick up the snake to admire it, and he transformed back into himself, and he was like, ‘Blehhh, it’s me!’ And he stabbed me. … We were eight at the time,” he continued. The moment, played for laughs, is a prime example of how loss and separation are dismissed in a young, adopted child.