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Chapter Text

Odin's voice boomed through palace corridors, making those who heard it curl in themselves (or wish they were able to) and feel pity for the person his rage is directed at. Everybody who has ever hear of the god knew how he could make anybody's heart halt just by frowning, how he could make the bravest warriors shake in fear. In the furthest corners of his kingdom, where people were half-sure he wouldn't hear them, there were whispers about his years of conquering other realms, passed by word of mouth for generations.Loki knew it all - after they found out what the man did, they travelled around all nine realms, searching and helping the victims of his other crimes. Yet, they stood right before him, unwavering, facing the Allfather's fury with a deadpan, not allowing themself to quiver, even mentally (no matter how much they wanted to).

"-not to mention how irresponsible, dishonorable, reckless, foolish-" they tuned his tirade out, listening to the whispered prayers, coming in a steady flow of sound, surrounding him, guarding like a blanket, offering something to hold on to even in the darkest pits of prison cells they was thrown in, when the Mad Titan had them under his control it gave them a reason to believe there was good to protect in the world they were supposed to attack.

To some, it might been selfish to do good only because somebody asked them to, and because it made them feel better, but Loki didn't care. A good deed was good, no matter what the intentions were.

They lost the track of time, lost in warm thanks, asks and tales of mischief their followers done, until they felt somebody shake their shoulders, saliva splattering over their face. Loki's senses slowly caught up to reality, seeing the man's furious face up close made cold spikes of terror run through their whole body.

"-that's it! You're going to listen to me when I speak! I'm sick of your disrespect!" he stepped away, his anger morphing to dissapointment, "I expected better of my son," Loki barely stopped themself from flinching, "and now I need to punish you. Again. Didn't you learn from your previous punishments? Where did that smarts of yours go now, huh?" The man took a few steps back and outstretched his arms. A golden glow sprouted from his hands, morphing into chains that started wrapping around Loki's head, then their whole body.

"I didn't want to do this, but you give me no choice, son."

Loki shut their eyes, grimacing in pain, unable to hold up their calm facade any longer. The white, hot pain spread around their body, consuming their own power and using it to bind their abilities. Loki clenched their teeth, not wanting to give the man the satisfaction of making them scream and beg.

After an hour (or was it five minutes) of this torture, it all stopped. Was it not for the weather outside, Loki would think the time was put to halt.

They laid on the palace floor, trembling from the effort and pain, silent tears running down their cheeks. The binds were clutching their body tightly, they were definitely going to leave bruises, and if they weren't careful, the chains would probably draw blood.

It wasn't what hurt the most, though.

It was the silence ringing in their ears, cold, merciless, and so, so lifeless. They tried to reach out for the whispers, but nothing came, not even an equivalent to what Midgardians called static.

They reached for their magic, but couldn't feel it.

No. Even their father wouldn't be as cruel-

"Your tricks won't work anymore, not until you learn your lesson." After that, the man walked away, leaving them alone.

Frankly, Loki was surprised that he didn't stay and watch them struggle, but they were glad the man left. Being in that position felt humiliating enough alone, but they were sure they wouldn't handle being watched.

When they were sure Odin was away, they broke down in ugly sobs, eyes letting out a flood of tears despite being tightly shut.

They made their way through the golden palace floor, half-crawling with the little movement space they had left before they heard somebody's steps. They closed their eyes, the shame they felt skyrocketing, only darkening the blush caused by crying.

"Loki?" their brother's voice was quiet and unsure, if they didn't know any better they would say Thor was worried or even scared.

Loki tried to keep the pitiful whimpers from escaping, but they failed miserably. Suddenly in their was their brother crouching, brows furrowed, empathy swirling in his eyes.

"Is it okay if I pick you up?" he asked, and when Loki nodded, he added "Can I carry you to your room?". The Trickster nodded again, thankful for Thor breaking the dead silence in their ears, even if it sounded a little bit like it was underwater.

Loki didn't even feel the binds digging in their flesh as Thor picked them up. The trip to their room was a blur, only changed by their brother's encouragements and promises they are near their destination. They closed their eyes, and when they opened them again, they were laying on their own bed.

"Loki, do you consent for Mother to tend your wounds after you fall asleep?" they nodded again, but then opened their mouth as to say something, but nothing came. Thor wordlessly put a cup of water to his sibling's lips, silently prompting them to drink.

"Talk... t' me." Loki's voice was still raspy after crying (why didn't they notice when the tears stopped flowing? It didn't matter now...). "No sil'nce." To them, it was humiliating how they could say anything more, but Thor somehow understood, immediately starting to tell a tale of what his costume party Midgard buddies were doing. Loki has dozed off barely twenty minutes into the story, but Thor kept talking, knowing they were sensitive to sound even asleep.

"And then Natasha- Oh, hello mother," the God of Thunder stepped away, letting Frigga work her magic. She hummed a calm song under her breath while she worked the chains open, checking her offspring's vitals. Suddenly she gasped.

"He repressed their seidr." She covered her mouth, feeling nothing but terror over her husband's doing. Thor's eyes widened in shock.

"Is there anything we can do to help them, Mother?"

"I'm unable to break it!" she almost cried out, her voice full of sorrow. Loss of magic was painful for any sorcerer, but for one as advanced as Loki it was life-changing. She never felt more helpless than now: unable to help her own child, or even offer them a source of comfort.

She finished healing them, and exited the chamber with the intention to try and coerce Odin into lifting the spell, or at least leaving Loki a part of their skill. Thor stayed with them, talking until his throat was so sore he wasn't able to make any different noise than a glorified hum. Soon after, he dozed off, his snores the only sound in the room.

Before long, they all would learn silence hurts much more than any sound.

Chapter Text

Loki looked defeatedly at the unfinished work laying on their desk. No matter how much they tried to fit into their old routine, something always was off - not to mention the breaks between tasks that they have spent on listening to prayers - norns, they can't wait to do it again - that they now spent "recovering", which was a glorified term for them staring off into a point on the wall, or the ceiling, not moving and angrily repeating healing spells incantations over and over in their head.
Their mother called it "enthusiastic recovery encouragement". And while it sounded a bit forced, it made Loki feel a bit better about the whole thing, like they weren't dumb for trying to use magic when they couldn't ‘yet’ - they thought.
While they hated to admit it, Thor helped a lot. He often compared it to him not being able to lift his hammer, except - their brother now could admit it - he deserved the punishment, they did not. His blabbering, not dependent on whether they listened to him or not, but beaming like sun at a summer dawn any time Loki made an effort to show him that they were, made up for the background noise they missed.
Loki, noticing that they, once again, didn't keep their thoughts consistent, shook their head and looked at the barely touched meal laying on their desk before them. They wanted to eat it, even if only to make their mother and brother feel better, but they just, couldn't. It felt like with the numbness that overtook them, their appetite had vanished.
They were quickly pulled from their thoughts by a loud noise outside.
After a moment came the realization it was a shout of pain.
A child's shout.
Loki tried to ignore it, they really did, but, unfortunately, it seemed that their brother infected them with this awful thing called "morals", that didn't let them leave the suffering kid alone.
They grumbled before going through one of the secret passages they created, making sure they had their pouch before doing so, and arrived only a few steps from the source.
Before their eyes laid a child, tightly clutching their leg. Loki rushed to them, a quick "are you okay?" slipping out before they even thought about it.
The kid showed their scraped knee slowly to the prince, careful to not make it hurt more. It was just a simple scratch, really.
They picked a tissue from their pocket and gently cleaned the wound.
"Is it better now?" they asked, surprised by how soft they sounded.
"Kiss it better! Momma says you always have to, or it won't heal quick!" the child looked at them, their naive eyes looking straight in Loki's, with so much trust and- adoration?
They ignored their thoughts in order to keep their attention on the kid, and hummed affirmatively. They bent down and pressed a quick peck above the scratch - not close enough to irritate it further, but still close enough for the child to perceive it as ‘on the wound’.
"Like this?" they asked, and were satisfied with the nod that followed as an answer.
Just then, an Asgardian ran to the two of them, a worried look on their face. Loki looked at their pronouns pin and read ‘she/fae’.
“Are you responsible for this kid?” the god asked her. Fae answered with a curt nod, immediately getting closer to the child, who got up and ran towards the worried Asgardian with a shout of ‘Momma!’.
After a quick introduction, the three parted their ways, Loki now richer in the knowledge that their names were Ragna and Idun respectively, and that Idun preferred to be reffered to as Idun rather than any pronouns.
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It’s strange how the realization of an ongoing thing only sets in after it’s broken - at least for a moment.
Loki didn’t know if the numbness taking over them was more welcome or simply awaited, but it didn’t stop them from analyzing the whole interaction once again, trying to find any points for their brain to draw even a second more of serotonin. After unsuccessfully trying to recall any moment of the event, their mind dutifully supplied them with the image of Idun’s scraped knee and that maybe, just maybe, it seemed almost gone by the time Idun was leaving with Idun’s ‘momma’ holding Idun’s hand.
They couldn’t help but let a grin appear on their face. It wasn’t the first time their seidr stayed hidden in plain sight, only leaving small signs that it was still there, or - as it happened after they were recovering after their first near death experience - it needed time to build its strength up again. Warmth bloomed in their chest as they climbed the beat, stone stairs leading to their chamber.
After they ate half of the plate they were served (what in opinion of their brother was a big success and he didn’t try to hide it) and actually took a shower without much prompting (once again Thor expressed how proud of them he was for doing so).
And as they laid in bed, fully intent on getting a good night’s sleep they realized with a surprised yet satisfied thought that they were both content with the day that just has passed and looking forward to tomorrow.
And just a little bit, inside, they dared to think that things were going quite well.
And oh how wrong Loki was about that, they would come to see.
After all, even a God of Lies cannot lie to themself for long.