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Chapter Text

Chapter 1:

Loki’s ribs throbbed with a dull ache. How could he still feel pain? He had died in Svartalfheim, saved his brother, and finally succumbed to the null void. Does he need to feel pain after death too? He thought he could finally be at peace but the Norns won’t let him.

He opened his eyes to look at Mjolnir on his chest. He closed his eyes in denial. He must be in Hel. Maybe their way of punishing him was to make him go through his worst memories again. He was just so tired of everything. These past few years were torturous, no, this past decade itself was exhausting.

His mental health was spiralling, Thor was acting like a brat and he was just so lonely but no one had ever noticed. Too busy preparing Thor for a throne he was not ready to handle, skipping lessons and not understanding the weight of the crown.

He saw Thor coming his way with a pair of magic-inhibiting handcuffs and that awful metal gag that prevented him from sleeping. He sighed internally. At this point, he’s just too tired to think, too tired to feel. He just felt expended and empty. When he was still alive at this point, all he could feel was anger—anger at Thor for not recognising that his mind was not his own.

How could he not have known? Did he think that Loki followed his ancestors just because he was Jotun? Did he think of Loki as the Monster he wanted to sl-.

No. Loki was not going to pay heed to his emotions. Not right now.

He said nothing and compiled willingly, and Thor gave him a suspicious—no, it was mostly a confused glance. He kept his face carefully blank and refused to react to any murmurs or attempts of conversation made towards him all the way till they reached Asgard.

By this point, he made the conclusion that he was definitely sure he wasn’t dead and in Helheim.
His consciousness must have taken over another Loki from a different timeline, yet his intuition insisted this was his own timeline. Had he somehow travelled back in time within the same timeline? He’d travelled back in time, without creating a separate timeline. He could have just gotten a prophecy from the Norns and imagined the trial, his years in the dungeon, his moth-.

No. A mage’s intuition, especially one who was deemed as the God of magic is not to be taken lightly. Magic is intrinsically connected with the universe and its energy flow and learning magic is an arduous task since it does not follow any rules. In fact, it seems to have proved almost all the rules placed on it wrong. That's why Loki enjoyed it. And now, apparently, it says time travel is possible within the same timeline, and who was Loki to prove it wrong when it's thrown in his face?

“Loki”. He heard his mother's voice, and he was thrown out of his thoughts.

He looked at her. She had died. Frigga, the Allmother, his amma had died . And the last words he’d spoken to her were ones that caused her tears. He kept looking at her, green eyes wide, her eyebrows furrowed in concern at his continued silence, eyes filled with affection at finally finding her long-lost son.

“Loki… my son, are you alright?” Mother’s voice was soft, laced with worry, as she gently touched his arm.

He glanced away from her and looked at his surroundings as he thought of what he could do now. The last time he was here, his mind was enraged at his parents for failing to understand what had happened to him. His Fat- Odin was enraged, the parent who had held his hand while he could sleep due to nightmares nowhere seen. Odin was telling him he did this because he desired a Throne. Yelling at him that his birthright was to die on a frozen rock.

He could tell them what had happened, even if no one would believe Loki Liesmith, they would believe the Chittauri brand on his shoulder blade, the marks of their torture on his skin.

But Loki knew their sympathy would be short-lived, his reasons would sound like excuses for most of Asgard. The soldiers and the court would still be suspicious of him, their doubts would never be completely cleared, and his par- Odin and Mother wouldn’t understand how broken he is. And he wanted them to know. He wanted them to realise how much he had suffered and feel guilty for not noticing sooner. For Thor to feel guilty, for him to understand how much he caused Loki to suffer. How could they possibly have thought he could kill these Midgaurdians for a throne? He doesn't even like their silly little, pollution contaminated planet! 

That required patience and some time spent in prison. Loki did not mind that, he was tired and prison was comfortable enough, courtesy of his Mother.

His eyes land on Odin. Loki stares at him, his expression morphed into a carefully blank one. An expression that he often wore when he was zoning out during meetings—one that he knew his father would see as an act of defiance, blinded by anger.

“You will not ignore your mother, Loki, show her the respect she deserves!”

Loki allowed himself to flinch at the sound, very slightly, not enough for Odin to notice in his rage but enough for Mother to take notice and show concern. His face betrayed no change in emotion, and he continued to stare at the throne, unreplying and seemingly unrepentant.

“Lo-” Mother started to say, concerned, as Odin interrupted her.

“Enough! I will speak to the prisoner alone,” Odin stated, and as his mother left, Loki retreated into his mind, and Odin, not receiving any answers from his prisoner, let the guards escort him back to the very same cell he spent two years in.

Loki retreated to the bed, his back against the wall, and closed his eyes.

Chapter Text

Frigga’s worry gnawed at her, and she turned to Odin, her voice firm and urgent, she loved her husband but her child, who was thought to be dead, was back, returned alive but not whole. She didn’t understand what Odin was playing at, but she would not back down from helping Loki.

“Odin, for once, pay heed to what I’m saying, it’s been almost 2 weeks and Loki hasn’t moved from his place. He hasn’t eaten a single morsel, and he’s not reacting to me or the guards speaking to him, he’s been sitting in the exact same position. This is our son we’re talking about, do you not have any affection or worry for him?”

Odin, seated on his throne, concealed his inner turmoil behind a stoic mask, “Frigga, you know I am concerned. But this is no small crime he committed. He has always been elusive, unpredictable. How can we trust his intentions now?”

Frigga's eyes flashed with a mixture of frustration and concern. Does he not worry for Loki? How could he just sit there when their son was suffering and in pain for reasons they knew nothing of? She tried to calm herself and spoke with steel in her voice.

"He is our son, Odin. Whatever his past transgressions were, he deserves our understanding, our compassion. We cannot turn our backs on him now. How you can sit there and let our son fade away is beyond me”.

As the weight of their conversation hung heavy in the air, a hesitant knock echoed through the chamber. Thor stood at the doorway, looking weary but determined.

“Father, Mother, may I try speaking to him in your stead?” They both set their gaze on him and he continued, “I do not trust him yet, I have seen first-hand what his actions have caused but... I am still worried. This behaviour is... not like him.”

Loki is many things but unresponsive is not one of them. He is talkative, extremely so, especially when he's placed himself in an unsavoury situation. He may be the God of lies, but he could never manage to fool his family when it comes to his expressions, which is why Thor believed that Loki wanted to take over Midgard. The fury and anguish in his eyes were real, and Thor did not understand why or how his brother came to this state but at that time he did not care.

But then Loki just stopped working after Banner’s berserker state, Hulk destroyed him during their fight. Then, he was completely unresponsive to the taunts the Midgardians spat at him; his eyes were clouded over, mind elsewhere and he let Thor lock him up. 

“Loki… after losing the battle, just let me arrest him, father. He let me place magic-inhibiting cuffs without protest or any type of hesitation. He did not utter a single word as I brought him back to Asgard.”

“He didn’t react to being made to wear the magic-inhibiting cuffs?” Frigga asked, astounded and now, more worried. 

All mages, especially one as powerful as Loki, hate being stripped of their magic. It has become a part of them, entwined in their very souls, and the pain of losing their magic is worse than being amputated. That is why even in Asgard prisons, magic is allowed to be used, at least in the range of their cells. Not allowing it would be inhumane, giving the mage a slow, agonising death.

Odin sighed, “Do what you must, Thor. Your mother is right, Loki may need aid and we must know how or why he requires it and what steps to take forward.”

Thor looked towards his father, slightly surprised. He nodded his head, “Then I shall go meet him later tonight, Father.”

—

In his cell, Loki closed his eyes and let his consciousness drift into the recesses of his mind. The transition was smooth—a familiar journey into his sanctuary. As he descended into his mental space, the noise of the external world faded, replaced by the comforting silence of his HugrHeim.

This was a technique he learned in the Alfheim libraries. Asguards' libraries, while vast, were focused on weapons and war. Even the research conducted by mages centred on physical healing and spells designed for battle. Creative solutions for art, agriculture, and other essential aspects of life were often neglected and bought from other realms.

But the elves have done fantastic research about the mind—psychology, mental health, and mental illness and have found extremely creative uses of magic. Hugrheim, in its original form, was a technique designed to help elves memorise large texts and visualise simple, distorted memory spaces. It was primarily used for meditation, mental health maintenance, and enhancing cognitive abilities. Elves believed that a well-maintained mind was as crucial as a well-trained body, which is why they have the fewest crimes in the nine realms.

Loki was especially obsessed with learning new kinds of magic back then, and thus, he sought to master it. He then, obviously, decided to adapt and enhance it using his own magical prowess. He created a mindscape of a library, but he did not just use it to memorise large texts; he used a combination of spells to create an exact, non-corporeal copy of every text he encountered and stored them there permanently. It was a space only those with his magic signature could access, as it was created using the same energy. Even Thanos’ children hadn’t learned of it with the use of the mind stone, while it was powerful and ancient, it wasn’t his.

The library was a colossal, multi-dimensional space filled with shelves upon shelves of books, scrolls, and manuscripts. Some of these texts Loki had never read before, but he could still access their knowledge due to his prior magical replication. He had meticulously organised it, getting more and more books over the centuries; there were areas dedicated to ancient runes, spellcasting, psychological treatises, and even mundane subjects like agriculture and art, which Loki had gleaned from his travels.

Beyond just simple memorisation, Loki could interact with the texts in real-time. He could open a book and read its contents, cross-reference multiple sources, and even simulate experiments within his mind.

His HugrHeim also allowed Loki to visualize and manipulate complex concepts. He could create mental models of spells, break them down into their fundamental components, and reassemble them in innovative ways.

This place was his home, his safe spot. He had spent most of his time here during his youth. Without visiting this place when he was left alone, during his time at the Sanctuary, he would have genuinely lost his mind.

Now here, he needed to plan. He would make sure his mother would live, the Norns be damned. He is going to crush Maleketh like the squirm of filth he is and will not let his being taint his mother’s eyes. He could feel a change in the realm, a constraint of a certain future occurring was lifted. Although he was not a Seer like his mother, all mages could feel a bit of the most certain probability of the future: events and deaths that were set in stone, woven into the Norns’ tapestry. His going back in time had changed that. The Possibilities of what could happen are now infinite, and no matter what happens, a future where his mother dies will not occur. He will make sure of it.

He could never tell them outright about the dark elves; not only were they a species said to be extinct, but his word meant nothing. Even if he fights against them and somehow protects everyone, he would be blamed for the attack, as he’d known. His actions won’t matter; they would think he fought on Asgard's side to manipulate them into thinking he’d changed, only for him to backstab them again, like the treacherous liar he was.

He could always eradicate them himself, they’d only managed to win last time due to a surprise attack. Asgard had gone complacent in their long peace and did not permanently activate any warning devices that acted upon receiving creatures using dark magic—for what is the use of wasting energy to be wary of creatures that don’t exist? Do they really believe that creatures outside the nine realms won’t use such magic? He sighed, Asgard is always stagnant; with their complex of being superior warriors and gods, they looked down upon anything that didn’t fit their standard.

“LOKI!”

A loud shout pulled Loki away from his thoughts and into the present, the transition from his serene library to the stark reality of the cell jarring. He slightly tilted his head to see Thor standing in front of his cell.

What was he doing here? Thor did not deign his presence last time until he required his aid for his mortal. Loki was left rotting alone, with no one to speak with for 2 years, a criminal, locked away, finally not tainting everyone with his presence with his dirty blood-

He stops that train of thought. Asgard is the one wrong in this scenario, he is not going to spiral down into a breakdown and self-blame, he has suffered enough, and now he is going to put himself first. Loki blinked, trying to focus on what Thor was saying.

“... Loki, what has happened to you? Answer me!”

Loki wanted to smirk at Thor; his speech has always been entitled, demanding, and unable to phrase anything politely. Well, it would be rather counterproductive to snap back at him now, and Loki couldn’t seem to find the energy to feel angry anyway.

He attempted to form a response, something to say that would bore Thor away since now wasn’t the time to plead his case, but for some reason, the words got stuck at the back of his throat—he just kept looking at Thor, gasping slightly. Panic began to claw at him; he did not like this lack of control; he was not given any semblance of control in the sanctuary, his mind was not his, his body was not his, his thoughts, his ego, likes and dislikes, none of them had belonged to him.

And now, after he finally regained some semblance of control, he cannot lose it. His voice was his most prized weapon, it was his to wield as he pleased. The panic surged, his breath quickening as he grappled with the terrifying loss of control.

Thor’s expression hardened. "Loki, why won't you answer me? This isn’t funny. If this is a pretence to leave you free, it will not work."

The accusation felt like a blow, even though Loki had expected it. He tried to reply, to retort with a cutting remark, no, he shouldn’t do those anymore for a while, he should - but his voice was failing him. What is he to do now? The panic continued to rise, and he felt the tightness in his chest, the helplessness overwhelming him.

“Loki, what is wrong?” Thor's voice grew louder, more desperate as he saw no response from his brother. Loki's eyes met Thor’s, filled with a mix of defiance and despair, and Thor must have seen something else in them as his gaze hardened.

"You think this silence will gain you sympathy? You've caused too much pain for that, brother. Speak, or remain in this cell until you decide to face the consequences of your actions.", Thor’s frustration was palpable, his posture rigid with disappointment.

Loki’s mind just snapped. He knew how Thor saw his action, he knew he wouldn’t be believed, he knew he would need to prove to his family who were the closest to him, the ones who were supposed to believe him, trust him. But to hear accusations spat to his face, when he genuinely felt overwhelmed and unable to speak, for his belief to be proven right. It was hurtful.

“Leave."  He managed to say, his voice small.

Thor blinked, momentarily taken aback by the weariness and defeat in Loki's voice. He opened his mouth to apologise, to try to reach out, but Loki closed his eyes again, shutting out the world.

“Loki… I-I apologise, I did not mean that... I-I was just worried and, uh… I’m very sorry… ” Thor’s voice was soft, but Loki was done. He is not going to force himself to speak, to give condolences to placate his bro- Thor. He deserved his rest, some amount of peace for a while.

Seeing no response, Thor sighed and turned to leave. He paused at the door, casting one last look back at his brother, worry etching his features, before walking away, the entrance door closing with a heavy thud behind him. 

Loki was left in silence, the echoes of his brother’s presence fading away. He sank back into his thoughts. He would treat himself to a good book, he decided. He deserves to do that before processing and planning everything else.

Chapter Text

Thor cursed himself as he stormed out of the dungeons, the heavy door slamming shut behind him. The look on Loki’s face after Thor had hurled accusations at him felt like a physical blow. His frustration and unjustified anger had dissolved in an instant, leaving only guilt. Loki had seemed so small then; his voice tinged with hurt yet resigned as if he had expected nothing less from his brother. And he was right, wasn’t he? Thor had reacted impulsively, letting anger guide his words. The entire purpose of his visit had been to help Loki, to understand what tormented him, and he had utterly failed. He had to admit it—he really was the worst brother.

But this was not about him and his guilt; it was about Loki and his health. He should give Loki the space he clearly needs and beg him for his forgiveness-

“Loki, I told Sif that I seek her forgiveness for underestimating her skills as a warrior, why wouldn’t she still talk with me?”

“Brother,” Loki had replied, his tone edged with exasperation and a hint of amusement, “you should never apologize, expecting forgiveness. That means you’re doing it for yourself, not because you’re truly sorry.” 

“I don’t understand. What’s the difference?”

“Never mind, Thor. Emotions aren’t your strong suit,” Loki had sighed. “Just repeat after me...”

What Loki had said back then made more sense now; he would go to Loki and properly apologise. He would make sure that Loki would feel safe and comfortable and would hopefully get to help him and would understand why his baby brother suddenly craved dictatorship and wanted to take over Midgard of all places. Now that he thought about it clearly, why on the nine realms would Loki want Midgard of all places? He always looked down on them since visiting their realm once, in the middle of their wars, saying something about stupid, prejudiced Midgardians. It seems like he was much more ignorant than he assumed, he should definitely analyse everything that happened in Midgard to see what else he’d missed.

—

Over the past week and a half, Loki had meticulously set his plans into motion. He had dismantled the mental barriers Thanos had placed in his mind, allowing the suppressed effects of mind control to surface. He had also ceased using the dream-catching spell that kept his nightmares at bay, inviting a torrent of pessimistic thoughts and relentless night terrors. This deliberate sabotage was necessary to ensure his pallor worsened, painting a convincing picture of his decline.

Thor’s daily visits had become a surprising routine. Each day, Thor would come, offering apologies without demanding forgiveness, never bombarding Loki with questions. He brought along small tokens—Loki’s favorite books, and trinkets from his chambers. It was as if Thor had broken through some mental barrier, learning to tread carefully around Loki’s fragile state. Loki had half-expected Thor to storm in with demands, but instead, he was met with quiet, persistent attempts at reconciliation. Despite himself, Loki felt a small pang of guilt for ignoring Thor, but it was overshadowed by a perverse satisfaction in seeing his brother’s dejected face every time Loki ignored him. Well, it served him right for being the stupidest brother alive!

Loki decided to go back to his Hugrheim, although he knew it was necessary, having constant nightmares and disregarding his mental health was not fun at all. He immersed himself in books, seeking distractions to cope with the torment, in the end, the goal was not to torture himself. He sighed, he had to endure this for a few more weeks before moving on to the next phase of his plan.

What Loki did not consider was that his current body had gone through the whole 2 years of pain, then a whole conquering under mind control with the added spice of a Hulk beating. And then, when it was supposed to be recovering slightly, it received a huge load of stress hormones from Loki’s meddling, which is why his phase-2 kind of pre-poned itself.

—

The corridors of Asgard’s dungeons were dimly lit, casting eerie shadows on the stone walls. As the guard made his rounds, he couldn't help but glance at Loki’s cell. The second prince had always been a figure of intrigue and controversy. Recently, though, there was only sorrow in watching him.

The guard remembered Loki’s former self—mischievous, charming, and always a step ahead in wit. But now, the prince was a hollow shell, consumed by something far darker. Loki’s green eyes, once alight with cleverness, now seemed vacant and distant. 

As the guard looked more closely at the second prince, he noticed Loki’s unnaturally flushed complexion and half-open, dazed eyes. A bad feeling settled in the pit of his stomach. He called out to Loki, but received no response. His trepidation grew, and he hesitated, unsure whether to use his entrance code. Then, Loki convulsed violently, spurring the guard into action.

​​The guard’s heart raced as he fumbled to open the cell door, his hands trembling. He quickly unlocked the cell and rushed to Loki’s side, but as soon as he reached him, Loki’s convulsions intensified. The guard yelled for help, his voice echoing through the stone corridors.

“Help! I need assistance in here!”

The other guards rushed towards the commotion, their footsteps pounding against the stone floor. One of the guards, a seasoned veteran healer named Brynjar, reached Loki’s cell first and took in the scene. He kneeled beside Loki and placed a hand on his forehead, feeling the intense heat radiating from his skin. Knowing their prince’s heritage as a frost giant, Brynjar understood the severity of the situation immediately.

“We need to get him to the healers immediately,” Brynjar commanded, his voice steady despite the urgency of the situation.

Together, they lifted Loki's limp body and carried him out of the cell. The corridors seemed to stretch endlessly as they hurried towards the healers' quarters. The once quiet dungeons were now filled with the sounds of hurried footsteps and a few concerned murmurs.

Frigga paced anxiously in the healers’ quarters, her worry evident in every step. Thor stood nearby, both having received urgent word from a guard about Loki. Despite being their prince, Loki was also a prisoner, requiring the King or Queen’s permission for medical aid. They had rushed to the infirmary immediately upon hearing the news, and waited for Loki to be brought in.

They both turned as the guards burst through the door, carrying Loki’s unresponsive form.

“He’s burning up,” Brynjar reported as they carefully placed Loki on a cot.

Frigga immediately moved to her son's side, her hands glowing with a soft, golden light as she assessed his condition. Thor watched, feeling helpless and frustrated at his inability to do more. 

Frigga looked up, her face pale. “He’s in an extremely fevered state, likely induced by some kind of mental or physical stress. We need to calm his mind and lower his fever before it causes any lasting damage.”

The healers began their work, blending magic and medicine to stabilize Loki’s condition. Frigga’s expression was one of fierce determination as she channelled her energy into assessing her son’s health. Thor stood close, watching every movement, every flicker of light, feeling the crushing weight of his actions and their consequences.

Hours passed, and Loki’s condition slowly stabilized. Frigga and the healers had done all they could for the moment. Thor approached his mother, his voice soft but filled with concern.

“Mother… is he going to be alright?”

Frigga sighed, looking both weary and deeply worried. “He’s stable for now, but we need to find out what’s causing these symptoms. Something is terribly wrong, and we must uncover the root cause before something like this happens again. His body is very weak… I’m not sure how much magical energy he’s used lately but, his energy faults are completely drained. We had to replenish him slowly, but he’s not accepting it as he should. Why this would occur would only be if…” she trailed off, not wanting to accept what trauma her baby could have gone through. 

Thor understood her underlying response and nodded his resolve hardening. “I will stay with him, Mother. I won’t leave his side.”

Frigga placed a gentle hand on Thor’s shoulder. “Your presence will mean a great deal to him. Keep watch over your brother, and let me know if there’s any change.”

Thor settled into a chair beside Loki’s cot, his eyes never leaving his brother's pale face. He thought about the times they had fought side by side, the times they had been at odds and the deep bond they’d shared despite everything as children. He vowed silently to protect Loki, to make amends for his past mistakes, and to stand by him in the future. No matter what happens.

—

Odin stood at the window of his chambers, gazing out over the golden spires of Asgard. The realm was at its usual peace and harmony, yet his heart was troubled. Memories of another time, another child, haunted his thoughts. In Loki, he saw the same fierce determination and deep pain that he had once seen in Hela. Both of his children, misunderstood and burdened by prophecies and expectations.

He remembered the first time he looked into Loki’s eyes as a child, seeing a reflection of Hela's intensity. As Loki grew older, their mannerisms grew increasingly similar, and Odin feared Loki's potential for destruction, having witnessed it in Hela. And then he heard of the prophecy, that Loki would bring Ragnorog. He had made sure no one would have heard of it but nonetheless, it had unsettled him then, and he had feared what it might mean. 

He hated himself for having such suspicions- this was his son. But, Hela has also been his daughter, and even after decades of trying to reason with her, try to make her understand their path was wrong, she had not shown any sign of wavering. It was his fault for instilling those beliefs in her, and he decided he would repent the rest of his lifetime for it by trying to install as much peace he could to the nine realms afterwards. But as time progressed, she became more violent, killed more people, and turned her sword against anyone just for the thrill of battle, her bloodlust insatiable. She received the moniker of Queen of the Dead, Ruler of Hel, due to her prowess on the battlefields. She was uncontrollable and when she tried to point her sword at Asgard, Odin had to face her. But after all, she was his daughter and he couldn’t bear to kill her so he just sealed her away, putting her in an enchanted slumber with his powers. 

When he saw Loki on Midgard, attempting to subjugate the planet, those fears had resurfaced. For a moment, he believed Loki was on the same dark path as Hela, destined to bring chaos and destruction. Their expressions where so uncannily alike, the bloodlust, the desire to rule, to dominate. He wanted to stop Loki from going down Hela’s path, make sure that the damage was containable before it became too late. To make sure he didn’t have to send away another child and make another unredeemable mistake. But he made one anyway. 

Odin sighed, feeling the weight of his decisions and their consequences. He had always tried to guide his children, to protect them from their darkest inclinations. But had he truly understood them? Had he done enough to help them find their own paths? He had always believed that Loki had the same potential for destruction as Hela, that Odin had to stop Loki from reaching that potential. But he never thought that he was wrong about Loki. He should have believed in his child, he should have tried to understand his perspective and hopefully. Now, he could only hope it wasn’t too late to make amends.

A raven flew in through the open window, landing gracefully on the ledge. It regarded Odin with intelligent, knowing eyes. This was one of his trusted messengers, often bringing news from across the realms and whispers of prophecy.

“Speak,” Odin commanded softly.

The raven cawed and shifted, its eyes reflecting the flicker of candlelight in the room. “The prophecy concerning Loki has been renewed,” the raven said, its voice echoing in Odin’s mind. “The seers spoke of Ragnarok, but also of hope. The future is not set. The paths are unseen, the choices are yet to be made.”

Odin closed his eyes, absorbing the words. The prophecy had long haunted him, a shadow over Loki's existence. It foretold that Loki would be the harbinger of Ragnarok, the end of Asgard. So there were opportunities to fix their fate. It was almost amusing, how the heavens seemed to want to prove it to him that he was wrong about Loki. 

“I have made many mistakes,” Odin murmured, more to himself than the raven. “In my attempts to prevent disaster, I may have pushed my child away, forced him into a role he was never meant to play.”

The raven cocked its head, its gaze unwavering. “You have the power to mend what is broken, to guide without controlling.”

Odin nodded, feeling a renewed sense of purpose. He could not change the past, but he could strive to do better in the present. He would be there for Loki, not as a king or a ruler, but as a father. 

“Thank you,” he said to the raven, which cawed softly in response before taking flight once more, disappearing into the night.

Odin turned from the window and made his way to the healers' quarters. He needed to see Loki, to be there for him in his time of need. Regret and guilt weighed heavily on his heart, but he carried a newfound resolve. He would support Loki, help him heal, and perhaps, in doing so, heal the rifts within their family.

—

In the healers' quarters, Thor sat vigil beside Loki, his eyes red with exhaustion but filled with determination. Loki's fever had broken, and his breathing had steadied, but he remained unconscious.

Odin entered quietly, his presence immediately noticed by both Frigga and Thor. He walked over to Loki’s bedside, looking down at his son’s pale face.

“How is he?” Odin asked softly.

Frigga looked up, her expression a mixture of worry and hope. “He’s stable, but his energy is severely depleted. We’ve done all we can for now. He needs time to recover. We need to speak about his condition and treatments soon, we need to use the soul forge to understand why this had happened to him.”

Odin nodded, placing a hand gently on Loki’s forehead. “Loki,” he murmured, “I am here. We are here. You are not alone.”

Thor watched his father, noting the uncharacteristic tenderness in his voice. It was a small comfort, seeing Odin like this, so openly caring. He had not heard his father use this voice since they were children. In fact, they had all barely talked together as a family these past few decades. But now, perhaps, there was hope for their family.

As the night deepened, Thor kept his vigil, his thoughts complicated as his brain wandered. He would find a way to make things right, to bridge the chasm between him and his brother. Frigga and Odin were sharing quiet words, planning their next steps to ensure Loki's recovery and to understand what darkness had gripped him.

When Loki finally stirred, opening his eyes to see his family surrounding him, he felt a flicker of something he hadn’t felt in a long time: hope. The path ahead was more uncertain than ever, his head was throbbing and he felt frankly awful, but, for the first time in years, he felt he wasn’t walking that path alone.

Chapter Text

Loki opened his eyes, feeling extraordinarily well-rested for the first time in decades. His mind was hazy, empty as he tried to remember where he was. The ceiling above him was unfamiliar, too open and soft with filtered light to be the oppressive stone of his cell. How did he get here?

A hint of memory teased at him: the aching burn in his veins, his body betraying him, his head pounding... and someone entering the cell.

He took a slow breath, feeling his muscles tense as the realization crept in. The last thing he remembered was his body’s rebellion against him. Did they find out? Had the guards, or worse—had Thor and Odin discovered his weakened state? A new fear curled inside him like ice, cold and bracing. They’ll think I was faking it—a ploy to escape.

When have they ever believed Loki Liesmith?

Panic rose in his chest, his heart beating faster as his muscles seized up again. Loki tried to draw a full breath, but it felt like he’d forgotten how, his chest tight, his mind racing with each dreadful possibility. They’ll see it as a trick; they’ll think I’d staged this whole thing to gain sympathy. A thousand imagined punishments filled his mind, each one more isolating, more desolate than the last, until his body was locked in resistance against itself.

“Loki? Loki… are you alright?”

The voice pierced his thoughts, startling him back to the present. He looked up sharply, meeting Thor’s gaze. Thor stood beside him, his brows knitted in worry, a strange tenderness in his eyes that Loki couldn’t reconcile with his brother.

“No, not really?” Loki replied, the words leaving his mouth unbidden. The answer felt honest—brutally so—and Loki almost regretted his frankness, an old habit of hiding his vulnerability catching up with him. Yet the truth lingered: he’d been through every kind of torment, and if nothing else, he still had Hugrheim, his books, his knowledge. The world couldn’t take that from him.

He pulled himself together, feeling his breath settle, though his mind still reeled. Just as he opened his mouth to say something more, a second voice, soft yet weighted, filled the room.

“You were drifting in and out of consciousness for the past few days, Loki dear.” His mother, Frigga, spoke gently, and he turned to see her framed in the doorway, her figure surrounded by the faint glow of morning. Her face was marked with weariness, her eyes tired but warm. “I’m just relieved to see you well enough to speak. There’s much we need to say to you, and much we must apologize for.”

Her words stunned him, his mind struggling to bridge this woman with the Asgardian queen who’d raised him, the mother he’d loved so dearly. The faintest memories—of soft words, soothing touches during his unconscious state—drifted through his mind. He wondered how real they had been. An apology? He was too used to Frigga’s quiet tolerance, not her regret.

Frigga stepped forward, her face resolute, though her tone was still gentle. “Loki, we owe you a family conversation. I am unforgivably late in asking you this, but I am so very sorry I didn’t believe in you before. I know you never truly wanted Midgard’s throne. I know something was amiss then—would you tell us what happened?”

The words struck him with a force he hadn’t expected, disarming his usual defences. He looked between them, his eyes narrowing, his mouth forming words he hadn’t quite decided upon. But Thor, standing by her side, met his gaze with something that looked like humility.

“I’ve been doing a lot of thinking recently, brother,” Thor admitted, his voice quieter than Loki had ever heard it. “I spoke with one of the elven Mindhealers here for guidance… and realized just how blind I’d been, how arrogant I was in my ignorance.”

A humourless smile curved Loki’s mouth, and he tilted his head, studying his brother as though seeing him for the first time. “Who are you, and what have you done with my brother?”

Thor chuckled softly, his eyes reflecting a trace of guilt. Loki’s memories flitted to an image of Thor as a boy, ever-ready to protect him, easing him into new social situations when he felt overwhelmed. But that same warmth had hardened over the years into carelessness, arrogance, even cruelty. Loki had learned to expect as much. But this? Could this be real?

Before he could say more, Odin entered the room. His quiet presence shifted the energy, and Loki straightened instinctively, feeling the pull of old anger claw at his chest. Odin stopped a few paces away, his gaze heavy with the weight of something Loki didn’t recognize—regret, perhaps. Then he spoke, his tone steady, yet gentler than Loki was used to.

“Loki, we all owe you apologies,” Odin began, "but... it is I who owes you the most.”

The words were almost incomprehensible to him, but Loki’s scepticism held strong, sharpening his voice. “The great Allfather, apologizing? Have the Norns begun to meddle in earnest?” He crossed his arms, gaze flinty with suspicion.

But Odin’s expression did not falter. “There is much you do not know. Much I have kept from you, from Thor, from the vast majority of Asgard and… perhaps I may have wanted to keep this from haunting me and my thoughts,” he replied. His voice lowered, almost reverent. “Do you… Do you recall the name Hela?”

The sound of her name landed like a physical blow. Hela… the infamous queen of the underworld. Loki felt his heart lurch, a chill washing over him. He had a feeling he was not going to like what Odin would speak of next. “Hela.”

“Your sister,” Odin confirmed, his voice low and thick with something like pain.

Loki froze, his mind reeling. A sister? How much more had they kept from him? His voice dropped, filled with betrayal. “And you never thought to tell me? To tell us of a sister, of our sister.”

Odin gave a solemn nod. “Hela’s story is... a difficult one. She was born with great strength, far beyond mine, and her ambition soon turned to ruthless conquest. She became... consumed by her own power, she was overconfident, her thirst for blood grew stronger as time went by and when I tried to rein her in, I... I had failed. I had failed as her father and in the end, I sealed her away when she threatened Asgard itself.”

This truth felt cold and bitter, settling over Loki’s heart with the weight of something unbearably old and cruel as he came to a realisation. “And when you saw me reaching for power on Midgard, you assumed your history was repeating itself?” He let the bitterness seep into every word, his voice low and venomous. “So I was simply next in line—an heir to your shame? Someone to seal away, to be erased from history and never to be thought of again. You… you wanted to erase the memory of me as you did with her?”. His voice broke at the end… Odin, he- he would have erased his presence? Did he never truly realize, that what Loki wanted never was conquest? 

The echo of Odin’s mistake rang through the silence as Odin’s gaze fell, his voice laced with remorse. “I feared history’s cycle, Loki. I saw you, and I feared my past was rising again—that I had somehow made the same mistakes. I did not see you for who you were— I…”

“And for that,” Loki hissed, “you condemned me before I even began. You hid my true nature from me and called me your son while leaving me in the dark. I am a Jotun, a Frost Giant—yet you let me believe I was something monstrous, something less.”

Frigga stepped forward, her face lined with regret. “Loki, please—”

“Don’t, Mother.” His voice cracked, each word dripping with betrayal. “You knew, didn’t you? You both let me grow up fearing myself. I was nothing but a secret, a lie.” His gaze swept over Odin, bitter and sharp. “You even let me believe it was noble to hate my own kind. Thor and I played games about invading Jotunheim, about killing the monsters hiding under our bed, and how we would be revered as heroes for killing the monsters. The “monsters” that were like me. Did either of you ever stop to think what that might do to me?”

Frigga’s eyes shone with horror and realisation as she stepped closer. “I should have fought harder for you, Loki. I didn’t realise, perhaps I subconsciously hadn't wanted to know how awful the situation actually was, and I will regret my silence and ignorance in this matter forever.” Her voice dropped, steady and mournful. “But know this—you are my son, my sweet boy, and I love you more than life itself. That was never a lie.”

Her words hung in the air, and Loki felt a flicker of something that felt suspiciously like longing. He closed his eyes against the feeling, trying to force it down, but he couldn’t deny its pull.

Thor stepped forward, his voice soft. “Brother, I know I failed you too. I should have seen more and questioned more. I grew complacent, I didn’t realise how much you have done for me, for us. I took you for granted. I-I should never have done that, never have overlooked my baby brother.” He paused, his voice thick with emotion. “I do believe you, Loki. I should have listened sooner and trusted sooner. But I swear to you now, if there’s any way, anything I could do to make this right, I will spend every day trying.”

Loki’s gaze softened ever so slightly, and the smallest tremor passed through his expression. He didn’t want to trust these words, but a part of him yearned to.

He looked away, voice bitter but softened. “I can’t forget it all so easily. The years you spent calling me ‘brother’ only when it suited you. I was a weapon—an ‘ally’ when I served you, and a threat when I didn’t.”

Frigga’s hand lingered close to his, her voice unwavering. “But you are more than that, Loki. I failed to show you what you truly meant to me, and I too will never stop trying to make up for that.”

A deep, tense silence settled over the room, filled with the weight of unspoken pain, unvoiced regrets. Loki could feel the stirrings of something within him, the smallest ember of forgiveness perhaps, though he dared not let himself feel it fully. 

Odin’s voice broke the silence, subdued, hesitant and solemn. “I ask you now, Loki… can you still allow me the position to be your father? Can we try to be the family we never could be before?”

Loki met each of their gazes, searching for the cracks that might betray dishonesty, but he found only open remorse, a sincerity that unsettled him. Yet beyond his wariness, something long-buried yearned to trust in it.

Loki’s gaze softened, his anger ebbing into something quieter. He drew in a steadying breath, his voice losing its edge as he looked down. “I once thought…” He hesitated, then continued, his tone filled with regret. “I thought destroying Jotunheim would prove something—that erasing my origins would make me worthy of Asgard. I see now… how wrong I was.”

The memory of his assault on Jotunheim weighed heavily on him, a guilt he hadn’t let himself feel until now. I tried to destroy them all, he thought, my own kind. A faint sense of relief stirred as he remembered that the Bifrost hadn’t been activated long enough to cause true damage. But the shame still clung to him, the knowledge of what he’d almost done in his desperation.

Frigga’s hand closed gently around his, pulling him back to the present. “You are more than your past choices, Loki,” she murmured, her voice soft yet firm. “There is time yet to become the man you wish to be.”

He met her eyes, a flicker of longing hidden in his gaze. Thor gave a solemn nod beside her, his own expression open, ready. “If there’s a way forward,” Thor said quietly, “we’ll walk it together.”

Loki looked between them, seeing sincerity and regret, yes, but also something else—a willingness to make amends. He let his gaze linger, feeling the faintest glimmer of hope, however tenuous. “Perhaps…” He paused, steadying himself, “Perhaps in time.”

Frigga’s face softened with relief, and Thor’s shoulders eased, a tentative smile forming. Odin inclined his head in silent acknowledgement.

Loki’s thoughts drifted, a subtle determination replacing his bitterness. The past is fixed, yes, he thought, but the future is not. If he could change anything, if he could even begin to rebuild trust, he would.

He looked over at his family, seeing in their faces a mixture of relief, wariness, and perhaps the faintest glimmer of hope. The warmth of Frigga’s steady gaze, the weight of Odin’s remorse, and the solemnity in Thor’s stance—all of it spoke of their willingness to make amends, however uncertainly. But even as he allowed himself the faintest bit of trust, he couldn’t ignore the fractured spaces between them, the wounds that mere words couldn’t fully heal.

Maybe that’s alright, he thought. Maybe trust, like power, is built slowly, not given all at once.

A quiet resolve settled in him. He couldn’t forget the past or erase his mistakes, but he could try to rise above them. And as for Asgard… if the Dark Elves were to strike, he would be ready to defend it. He’d finally use his skills for something more. Whatever it takes, he vowed silently. I will be prepared.

As he took in his family’s faces one last time, Loki felt a fragile but undeniable hope stir within him—a feeling that, perhaps for the first time, he truly belonged. For now, that was enough.