Chapter Text
The chains made little clinking noises as Loki walked, the guards at his sides were the source of the heavy footfalls echoing in the chamber. Apparently his crimes were enough to earn him a whole escort of guards, carrying the chains, waiting for the silvertongue to slip up. Of course they were all indifferent to bringing in a prince of Asgard, not that he had ever been much of a prince, not that he had ever had a chance.
The silence was deafening, after the void all silence was. To distract himself Loki prepared what he would say to his fa- Odin, what he would say to Odin. He most certainly would not tell the truth, what use would that be.
The throne room was still just as large and gaudy as before. It was funny really, how things could have changed so much yet still be so familiar. The many pillars were entirely unnecessary, not nearly as many were needed to hold the ceiling, though something had been needed to fill the space. The runes on the architecture told stories, the legends of Asgard's heroes, he remembered a time when he aspired to be remembered like that. A story told to little children, to teach them of bravery and honor, he should have known he would always play the part of the villain.
He tore his eyes away from the writing, it was unimportant now, wasn’t it? Loki forced himself to walk with ease, a deliberate attempt to make a mockery of his security. He was a prince, and a prince belonged in a palace. He would not give anyone the satisfaction of seeing him in any state other than regality.
His mother stood on his left, her sad gaze cast on her youngest, her eyes following his footsteps. Her hair was done up in its usual elaborate manor, and her gown was the expected gold color of Asgard.
He told himself he would walk past her, it shouldn’t have been surprising that the god of lies could lie to himself.
He stopped, forcing the men behind him to slow. “Hello Mother. Have I made you proud?” With a cock of head he smiled. He probably came off as a bit mad. Who was anyone really to say he wasn’t.
Frigga’s expression would have been unreadable to all but a few, luckily Loki had practice. “Please, don’t make this worse.”
He scoffed, it was unlikely things would be getting any better, there was nowhere to go but down. “Define worse.”
“Enough.” Ah, the Allfather, finally decided to silence his not-son. Could he no longer tolerate the conversation between the captive and his woman?
“I will speak with the prisoner alone” Oh, so that was it. He wished to spare Frigga from the details of her son's future torment. At least he cared enough to shield her from that which would only cause her pain.
Frigga turned to leave, giving Loki one last withering glance. Not proud then. Her footsteps receded, the guards stayed, of course they would.
Loki took a few steps closer to the throne, lifting his legs to maneuver around the chains. And now the practiced facade, the lie that was meant to save him. He gave a small laugh, glancing momentarily to the side. “I really don’t see what all the fuss is about.”
It would suffice to say that Odin did not share his humor. “Do you not truly feel the gravity of your crimes?” Of course he did, he knew what he had done. Sacrifices had had to be made, hundreds was better than billions. The blood on his hands was nothing compared to what could have been. He had done what he could, but it hadn’t been enough.
“Wherever you go there is war, ruin, and death.” Loki’s eyes snapped back to his once-father. Had he really forgotten the centuries when Loki was the voice of reason, the one who convinced Thor to reel himself in, he who had once been called a warrior of Asgard. Thor has killed how many thousands and yet it is Loki who causes death. Loki who causes suffering, Loki who could not be forgiven.
He tried to tell himself it was better this way, this would be good for him in the long run. If he were imprisoned he would be safe from the titan. If death was his punishment, then so be it. The titan would not be so merciful as to grant him death.
“I went down to Midgard to rule the people of Earth as a benevolent god. Just like you.” And it was true, wasn’t it. Just as Odin had done, he presented himself as a conqueror, a hero.
“We are not gods. We’re born, we live, we die, just as humans do.”
Loki shook his head and smiled, he had long ago learned control over his expressions. “Well, give or take 5,000 years.”
The Allfather remained stoic, as was his place, though Loki would have appreciated at least a smile, not that he was expecting it. “All this because Loki desires a throne.”
I never wanted the throne! I only ever wanted to be your equal!
“It is my birthright.” If he really was still his fathers’ son then it should have been.
You are my son.
What more than that.
“Your birthright was to die!” Loki tried not to recoil. So it was. Oh, but Odin wasn’t done. “As a child, cast out onto a frozen rock. If I had not taken you in, you would not be here now to hate me.” Ah, his true feelings revealed. Honestly, he really should have expected that, who would forgive such a monster. Crimes such as he was accused of were in his blood after all.
“If I am for the ax then for mercy’s sake just swing it.” End it, if Odin had any courage he would. Loki let a small bit of his true feelings into his stance, pleading for it to be over. He would get no mercy from Odin, better death than whatever tortures awaited him.
He quickly came to his senses and recovered his composure. “It’s not that I don’t love our little talks, it’s just... I don’t love them.”
Odin had quite obviously had enough. “Frigga is the only reason you’re still alive and you will never see her again. You’ll spend the rest of your days in the dungeons.”
One of the guards tried to pull Loki back but he simply stepped forwards again. “And what of Thor? You’ll make that witless oaf king while I rot in chains?”
“Thor must strive to undo the damage you have done. He will bring order to the realms, and then yes, he will be king.” Odin paused as the guard tugged Loki back again, he pulled himself forwards, more forcefully then before.
“He wasn’t ready then, what makes you think he’s ready now? He’s still the same impulsive man he was before-”
“Silence boy!” Odin settled back into his throne, the golden seat of Asgard. “Thor understands, sacrifices must be made for the greater good.” But wasn’t that what Loki had done? He understood that far better than Thor, after everything he went through in the void. After his mind was ripped away from him, his memories no longer his own. After he had suffered the humiliating, planned defeat at the hands of the avengers. All of that had been for the greater good, and Odin thought he didn’t know sacrifice.
“I would hate to leave a blind man alone in the dark, but such things must be done.”
Loki brushed off the comment “What are you talking about, I’m not-” and the realization hit “No, you wouldn’t, father-”
“For the good of the nine.”
---
After the guards had thrown him in his cell Loki had crawled to a wall. He lay leaning against it shaking, his breath quick and uneven. He thought that by now he would know how to deal with pain, but the feeling of breaking never faded. He shuddered and closed his eyes, of course there was no change in his vision, or lack there-of. It was horrible, not knowing his surroundings, where he was.
My birthright was to die, why won't you let me? Why leave me to this?
There was however relief in the fact that this was temporary. He was a god, it would heal after a while, perhaps a couple midgardian months at most. A couple months and he would have his sight back. He would only have to wait a few months.
He had been in the dungeons before, but not enough to picture where he might be. “damn it” he whispered, nearly under his breath. He had no way of telling how long he sat there, eventually he had the thought to conjure an illusion, hiding his state. There was no use in letting anyone know of his weakness.
---
Loki had not let anyone learn of his disability, evidently neither had Odin. His seidr was now strong enough to conceal him at all times, hiding his scarred face and blank, unseeing eyes. Not even his own mother could see through his lies.
He had explored more of his small prison, discovered the sparse furnishings and decorations, left to make the prince feel more comfortable. He had tripped over the furniture countless times before he had come to know their precise locations.
Someone had even left him books, probably Frigga. It would have been a nice sentiment were he able to read them, now they were just a cruel reminder of what he couldn’t have.
The loneliness was hard, loneliness meant thinking and there were just too many things he didn’t want to remember.
---
He had been lucky to have his head in his arms when Frigga had shown up out of, seemingly, nowhere. Had he been anywhere else she might have noticed how he tended to stare off into seemingly nowhere. Because he didn’t know where anything was he could give his illusion nothing to focus on. Part of him wished that his mother would be able to see through his feeble illusions, to see what broken thing lay underneath; but Loki was far too practiced for that to happen, besides he had been so sure that he had made the right choice.
“The books I sent in, do they not interest you?” Frigga’s smooth voice was a welcome distraction. In truth, Loki had no idea what the books were about. He had on occasion run his thin fingers over the pages, longing for the familiarity of the action, but there was no use in attempting to read something he clearly could not.
“Is that how I’m to while away eternity, reading?”
“Loki, won’t you tell me what’s wrong. I know something is not right, you cannot hide things from me.”
“Can I not?”
“I’ve done everything in my power to make you comfortable, Loki.” Of course she had, he should never have expected anything less of the allmother. Still trying to help, even after all he had done.
“Have you? Does Odin share your concern? Does Thor? It must be so inconvenient, them asking after me day and night.” That was something even he couldn’t imagine, Thor maybe, but Odin? Never.
After so many centuries Frigga must have been used to Loki’s incessant jests, once made in good humor. “You know full well it was your actions that brought you here.” His actions, if you could count failing to withstand his own mind, his actions. Though there was the possibility that she could be talking about the bifrost, that was entirely his own doing.
“My actions? I was merely giving truth to the lie that I had been fed my entire life. That I was born to be a king.” Though he had ended proving the truth more than the lies. Monster.
“A king? A true king admits his faults. What of the lives you took on Earth?”
“A mere handful compared to that which could have been. I was more merciful than Odin in my conquest.”
Mercy, there will be no mercy.
You think you know pain?
And his mother rises to defend her husband. “Your father-”
“He’s not my father!” Loki snapped, turning back to where Frigga’s voice came from. “All he was was another lie.” All along he had been grooming his little stolen child into the bridge he needed, a way to ally Asgard and Jotunheim.
Frigga’s voice remains calm and level, how Loki wished he could see her face. “If that be true then am I not your mother?”
He hesitated, he knew he would regret this. “You’re not.” He couldn’t risk forgiveness, not now, no matter who he had to hurt or who he had to lie to.
He could almost picture Frigga’s smile, the image a perfect representation of the queen, regal and yet still so approachable. “Always so perceptive about everyone but yourself.”
Loki can feel the chill as the illusion brushes against his arm, so she wasn’t even here. Of course she wasn’t. What sane person would be in the cage with the beast?
---
Something was going on, that much was evident from the shouting, the scream of agony, the sound of many footsteps exiting the dungeon. Loki stood in front of the wall which separated him from the hall, curious as to who had managed their escape.
He was startled by a sudden grunt in front of where he stood, though he maintained his composure. “And pray tell, who are you?”
No response was made, but another set of footsteps came closer to him. A laugh. How insensitive. “Broken godling.” And whoever it was was gone. How reassuring, to know not even the scum in the dungeons wanted him.
The alarm went off, finally.
---
The footsteps that had alerted him stopped, by now he knew what the guards boots sounded like.
“Prince Loki.” The voice was younger, not one he had heard before, Loki wished he had a face to go with it. “I regret to inform you that the All-mother has died.”
Loki’s breath hitched, but he nodded to dismiss the guard, as the footsteps receded he allowed himself to stand.
She
was
gone...
—
For the first time he had lost track of the days, he hated the feeling, it reminded him all too much of sanctuary, of days when he had been so broken that time slipped through his fingers without his notice.
This was worse.
When he finally seemed to be in the right mind again his head was occupied with thoughts of the boat which would have since sailed into the void. I couldn’t go to my own mother’s funeral…
The one time he had tried to find his way anywhere else he had ended up stepping on glass, the shards embedding themselves deep in his bare feet. Something fragile must have broken, his mind was too much of a mess to recall what was previously in his cell, or how much of it could have been broken. He found himself thinking of the books, the last things Frigga had left him, he hoped to every god he could think of that they were still intact. Every god but himself of course... and not Odin, never Odin.
What use was there in going on, he remembered the shards of glass on the floor, it wouldn't be hard. Though perhaps even that was not worth it.
___
Louder footsteps, someone who walked with a purpose, someone he recognized, how could he not. His glamour was up as always however, the cell was left in its broken state, he had no idea what any of the furniture looked like. “Thor, after all this time and now you come to visit me. Why? Have you come to gloat? To mock?”
Thor interrupted him, how disrespectful. Then again, am I really worthy of his respect? “Loki enough.” Thor pauses, leave it to Thor to need time for his mind to catch up. “What have you done to your cell?”
Although Loki had no idea what it looked like he could imagine it was quite the sight. Ignoring the question Loki frowned. “Did she suffer?”
Thor’s heavy footfalls come closer, moving to the right. “I did not come here to share our grief. Instead I offer you the chance of a far richer sacrament."
“Go on.”
“I know you seek vengeance as much as I do. You help me escape Asgard and I shall grant it to you. Vengeance. And afterwards, this cell.”
Loki gave a sharp laugh, however stifling, this cell was serving his purposes. The thought of vengeance though...
“You must be truly desperate to come to me for help. What makes you think you can trust me?”
“I don’t, mother did. You should know that when we fought each other in the past, I did so with a glimmer of hope that my brother was still in there somewhere.” Thor paused and Loki gave a sharp intake of breath. “That hope no longer exists to protect you. You betray me and I will kill you.”
So no longer his brother. I admit, even after all the times I’ve claimed it to be so I didn’t think Thor would cast me away this quickly.
“Very well, however I won’t be coming with you.”
Thor gave the expected response. “I need you, you are the only one who knows the hidden paths out of Asgard.”
Loki smiled and gave a half-hearted laugh “I am not necessarily Thor, and I can easily tell you where to go. Now listen close, I’m only going to walk you through this once.”
---
Thor had succeeded, they had had their revenge, but that was little comfort to Loki. The Asgardian (no, not asgardian) tried to picture Thor’s face as his brother (not his brother) spoke to him. It was getting harder to remember the smile he had seen every day for a thousand years, and he could never get the blue of Thor’s eyes quite right.
“Father has denied my request to have you released.” Thor’s voice was the slightest bit ragged, he must have gotten injured in recent days. Loki wasn’t surprised at Odin's actions, who in their right mind would release someone such as him.
“I thought it might be so.” Loki’s voice was as controlled as ever.
Thor was solemn, as if condemning someone to a death sentence. In a way he was, albeit a very drawn out one. He spoke as though it was already unchangeable, he wouldn’t be going behind Odin’s back again.
“Lo-”
“Take your apologies elsewhere.” Spat out in apparent anger, the words left a bitter taste in his mouth.
Thor walked away without another word. Loki exhaled in a sigh of- was it relief? It was for the best, how long could he keep up his ruse outside of these confines. His guise would fall as soon as he made a mistake, as soon as he couldn’t tell who was in a room, or tripped over something everyone else could see. It was better here, where no one could see him show any sign of weakness. That’s what he tried to say his reasons were. But no, it was better here, away from him.
---
He wasn’t healing. It had been months at least. It was hard to gauge the passage of time without his sight but he could still tell it had been much longer than he had thought. Too long. Why wasn’t he healing?
Loki stood with the bridge of his nose between his fingers, trying to ignore his splitting headache. Pains like this had been constantly surfacing since his return to Asgard, but it was a slight inconvenience compared to his sight.
He should have healed... Something had to be wrong with his seidr, though he knew that couldn’t be it. He still managed perfectly to conceal himself and to heal his remaining wounds from his time on midgard, and still his eyes remained useless.
Something has to be wrong...
---
He had regained enough seidr to keep the mask up at all times now, after all, it wasn’t like he could use his magic for much else. Now he constantly looked as he once did with emerald eyes, meticulously kept hair, and not a trace of scarring; the perfect image of a bored prince.
He had asked a passing guard to tell him how long it had been. Two years. Nothing in the life of a god, but two years nonetheless. Two years he had spent blind in the accursed cell, two years without seeing the face of his once-was brother. His time in the dungeons had felt an eternity, but he hadn’t expected so much time to pass so quickly.
---
It was the voices that warned him this time, rather than footsteps. Two of them, one was a guard he had recognized, the other was vaguely familiar. Loki stood, straightened his clothing, and listened in as the men conversed.
“-yes, orders from SHIELD, had to be me. Of course I despise working with those power hungry assholes, but I didn’t want to argue about this.”
“Of course, Mr. Stark.” Oh, so that’s who it was. Anthony Stark himself, on Asgard. Why? Odin should not have allowed it, a midgardian hadn’t been on Asgard in centuries.
“Please, it’s just Tony.” They stopped. It sounded like they were slightly to the left of Loki’s cell, but it was a little hard to tell. It should have been easier seeing as how none of the other prisoners were making any noise.
“Hey Lokes! You ready to go?” The mortal was probably talking to him. He should have been expecting the horrible pet name, as he had observed it to be a habit of Stark’s.
Loki’s brows furrowed. “Beg your pardon, but go where?” What would Stark want with the imprisoned prince?
“You weren't told.” Not a question, a simple observation. “Well, you get to spend the rest of the foreseeable future with me. I mean, hopefully not all of it, I still expect my alone time, can’t be babysitting a homicidal god all hours of the day, you know.”
That still made little sense. “Has the allfather grown so bored of me that he’s willing to send me to the likes of you?”
“Not how I would have said it but pretty much. He said you had to pay your dues to Earth, or something like that. Anyways, I volunteered, though I was really the only one to agree to it and the only one with prison cells in my goddamn house, to keep you in check for a while.” The last sentence was spoken so fast even the silvertongue had trouble keeping up.
That certainly is inconvenient. It sounded extremely tiring to keep up his illusion of grace for such a long time, in an unfamiliar environment.
Loki raised his hand to the barrier just in time to feel it recede. The sound of more guards echoed down the hall. Why would the same man who had blinded him let him walk freely to his next prison.
Before Loki had taken a single step out of his cell the guard who was with the inventor demanded he stop.
Someone stepped closer to him, he flinched instinctively, but managed to hide it, after all this time he was adept at hiding. He hissed as thin manacles were snapped over his wrists.
When he thought no one was watching him Loki moved closer to the walls. He let his fingers run along the banisters and columns, longing for the familiar architecture. Despite his lack of site he strode confidently through the golden city, soon arriving at the rainbow bridge that led to Heimdall. He could no longer hear the guards behind them, they had presumably stopped following.
When the two reached the guardian Loki gave a curt nod of greeting to the man. “Heimdall, I trust you shall be watching me during my time on Midgard?” It was seemingly an innocent question but another was hidden behind his words. Heimdall surely knew of his disability, though that didn’t stop him from hoping otherwise.
“I bid you farewell, Prince Loki.” The guardian answered, avoiding what lay beneath.
“Farewell Guardian.” Loki moved past Heimdall and approached the Bifrost, sure that Tony would follow him. The sound of the bridge opening was unmistakable, and the feeling of traveling through the bifrost would never get old.
Loki stumbled as they arrived in what was most likely a holding cell, it’s what would make sense.
“Welcome to my not-so humble abode.” Oh, the tower then. That was unprecedented, though it did shed light on the earlier comment Stark had made about having a way to contain- prisoners was it? It was to be expected, another year, another person’s prisoner.
He flinched as Stark put his arm around his, it was... unexpected. The inventor rambled on, something about the architecture. Loki hated to admit it but he was interested, however his mind was much more focused on what lay ahead.
Stark led him through the rooms, Loki managed alright, still he had to make some compromises since Stark was so short and he was currently attached to him.
They came to a stop and the floor suddenly lurched. The horrible mortal contraption, an elevator if he remembered right.
The subject of Stark’s speech switched to something that caught the god’s attention. “So that brings us to you. You’re pretty much under house arrest, you’re only here because my tower is advanced enough and we can keep an eye on you. A couple of us hero guys are going to be taking shifts watching you for the time being, you’ll probably recognize some of the names on the list.”
“ I see... Is your Agent Barton one of those?” He posed the question as something mischievous, fitting since it was coming from the god of mischief.
“Not as of yet, and for his own good he shouldn’t be. You had no right to do what you did to him.”
“Some could say I had no right to do anything I have done on Midgard.”
“And they would be right.”
A small ping sounded, and the next noise was the sliding of doors. Stark once again began walking, his arm still entwined with Loki’s, dragging him along. A long corridor, a left turn, another twenty steps.
“Well, here we are, this is your room.” Stark moved his arm and grabbed Loki’s hand letting a small object fall into it. A key. The movement was peculiar, why would he have- unless.
He knows.