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The fire burns white, and Loki can’t look away.
It’s not just the chains that seem to cover every inch of her body— heavy cuffs around her wrist and around her ankles, a collar around her neck, and a gag shoved so far down her throat that she can hardly breathe, let alone scream. With the weights attached to them, it takes most of her not inconsiderable strength to keep from collapsing against the ground entirely, and even then, she’s forced into an uncomfortable kneeling position. The door to Orin’s private chambers, where she is pushed against the earth, is locked several times over. The All-mother might be there on the stage with Loki’s doppelgänger, but she’s not fool enough to leave the real her with just a single lock.
Not that Loki is in any position to escape, even if she could get out of the heavy chains. The Resistance is scattered to the winds, and Loki doesn’t know where to find them. She couldn’t. She made Sigyn promise to leave her, not to tell her where they’d go in the case of a situation like this.
Well. Not like this specifically.
Her doppelgänger squirms and tries to break free of the restraints. Loki knows it won’t work, because she’s been fighting her own chains since Thor showed up at her door, hammer in hand and murder in his eyes, and if she can’t get out, then an innocent stranger with the misfortune of looking like her won’t.
Loki doesn’t know why she’s still alive or why that girl is going to burn in her place. She knows more about the Ratatoskr Express’s tracks than anyone else, but there’s no way she’ll cooperate. No matter what Odin does to her. She’d rather die.
She’d thought she was going to die. She’d resigned herself to the fate she sees through Orin’s one way window. She’d said it was worth it, to delay or maybe even stop the train that’d make the endless subjugation of her people so much easier. The only time she’d doubted her willingness to die for her cause was when she’d seen the look in Thor’s eyes. Her oldest and closest friend, hungry to make her pay. Odin’s brutal recompense was expected, but on some level, Loki must’ve hoped he’d understand.
But that girl hadn’t done anything. She’s crying. She’s gagged too, in the same way the real Loki is, so she can’t say anything. Can’t call this punishment the farce it is. Loki wants— needs— to tear off her chains and run to her, free her before the flames that are already scalding her legs consume her entirely. This is the exact powerlessness she’s felt her entire life, condensed into a single, horrifying moment: innocents are suffering, and there’s nothing she can do.
And, despite herself, Loki can’t help but worth for herself. She isn’t ready for whatever Odin intends to do. It’s not like Odin had any real restraints before, but at least she maintained a veneer of civility. She’d stood back and let Thor kick her bloody and bruised, and that punishment had felt earned. Baldr’s death had been necessary, but that didn’t make Loki feel any less guilty.
Had Odin hit that girl in the same ways Thor had hit Loki? Is that why she’d been watching so carefully, with such a cold and analytical eye? So she could recreate the same patterns of bruises? It’s hard to tell from Odin’s personal chambers, so high above the town square, but the bruises don’t seem fake. Just seeing their patterns on someone else draws attention to her own hurt. She is so tired from holding her head up. She could almost collapse right now, wait for the one person in the world who knows she’s her to drag her away, if it wasn’t for that girl.
Burning alive is one of, if not the most, painful ways to die, but it was supposed to be her. She wants to scream so badly, but the sound barely escapes the gag. The crowd is jeering at her. Calling her names. They scream for the fire to consume her faster, harsher, and they laugh at her tears. If it weren’t for the guards holding the mob back, would they rush the stage and tear her to pieces before the flames could consume her entirely? What would that crowd do if they knew that girl was innocent? She deserves a witness. Someone who will grieve for her not because they believe her to be someone she’s not. Someone who understands she didn’t make the choice,
Loki watches powerlessly and wonders if this is going to be the rest of her life. The light of the fire scorches her eyes, and even as she tries her hardest to keep from blinking or falling even further, she feels the weight dragging her down. She isn’t that strong. She’s no Sigyn. She’s always been dwarfed next to her wife, and even their kid Fenrir could lift more. Her slight build has always been an advantage before now— she’s small enough to get in and out of the most dangerous parts of the tracks, and her precise finger work made her an excellent mechanic and lockpick. It was always Baldr doing the heavy lifting. Baldr, who, if it wasn’t for his death, would be doing to bulk of the physical work on the track right now. Baldr, whose death Loki and this girl pay for with their flesh.
She sinks further even as she tries to drag the chains to a better position. She wants to stand tall. She wonders, if it was really her there, burning alive, would she be defiant? Could she manage to choke out a cry of bloody resistance? Or would she break to pieces as well? Sob with silent screams and pleas for mercy that nobody could hear?
When she finally from collapses from exhaustion before she can see her silent oath to the girl through to the end, she has her answer.
That face of pain and despair will be trapped behind Loki's eyes every time she closes them, from now on until she dies. If she dies.