Chapter Text
Odin knew sitting on his throne to watch Loki in his cell was cowardly, that if he wanted answers he should go to Loki in person to ask, Loki was still his child... but how could he face his child after all that had happened.
How could he ask Loki why he had done the things he had done when all he wanted to ask was when Loki had stopped knowing Odin loved him more than the stars in the sky?
Where had this bitter spite come from, so sharp and cutting and different from the ? Had it been growing even before Loki had discovered his adoption, or had it festered after? Did he truly seek the destruction of all he had grown up with, it was so unlike the child he’d raised. Did he really not know how much they loved him? What had happened in the time he was missing, and how had it severed what they had? Loki had known how loved he was before then, hadn’t he?
For the first time in perhaps a thousand years, he could not predict what was going to come from his son’s mouth.
From Hlidsjjalf he’d watched his precious youngest return from the dead like a blessing, like an answer to his deepest hopes, only to slaughter in a manner so messy and brutal and utterly unlike himself. To smile a twisted grin matched with a malice in his eyes that Odin had never seen in him before. He had caught only a glimpse of Loki’s first assault, his mind drawn there by the surge from the Tesseract, but something in his heart had fractured at the sight. This twisted, cruel version of his child.
He'd sent Thor to bring his brother home, and prayed to the Norns there was an explanation.
Loki hadn’t given him one.
He had admitted to his crimes with pride and satisfaction, like his successes were more than anyone in the room could understand, smug and posturing in a way that Odin was certain was a facade, but could not get beneath. The Loki that had stood before him at his trial had been a mask, an act, he was certain of it, but why Loki had done what he did, why he had put on that mask at all, Odin could not understand.
He needed to understand.
Nothing lined up quite right, and Loki sat in a cell, smug. Loki sat a prisoner in one of the strongest cells in the Nine, looking as though he was the only one who’d won. Won what, Odin could not begin to guess.
He couldn’t face that vile prideful sneer, so unlike the child he’d raised.
Two years ago, he could never have imagined things would lead here.
One year ago, he’d have prayed to simply have Loki back at all.
Now, when the Norns had given him his son back, he could not bring himself to face him, to ask those questions. His desperate hopes had been answered, and he was too much a coward to face it.
Instead of visiting, instead of asking, he sat alone and watched.
Frigga visited Loki, in illusion form, and though he had claimed it would not happen, he did not stop her. He understood her motivations entirely and could not bring himself to intervene. This was their child, their son who they had raised from a tiny baby, and the two of them had always been so close. She needed the answers just as badly as he did, and perhaps Loki would talk to here where his son was so bitterly furious with him, far beyond what he could have expected. If it could get them the answers they needed to understand...
Loki had always been so moral, noble. He had his jokes, certainly, and oft picked a little chaos over rules, but when the situation was serious, his son was a Prince of Asgard through and through. Rational, methodical, three steps ahead. So young and yet wise beyond his years. Mischievous, but rarely malicious. Always, always, loyal when it counted, especially to their family. Dutiful and willing to do what was needed for Asgard, even if unconventionally. To use words and law to twist enemies into submission, to find other solutions. Contrary to what most always assumed, Thor was far more willing to break the rules than Loki, to act and only consider the consequences later. Loki at least tended to think things through first.
The strategies they’d seen on Midgard held no similarity to Loki’s, even Tyr had noted as such. Erratic, overly-violent, manipulative but sloppy. Nothing like they’d seen from him over the centuries. Nothing like the child he’d raised. Nothing that made any sense, there was a piece of the puzzle missing, he just couldn’t work out what it was.
So he let Frigga try, though Loki’s answers remained just as uncharacteristic.
He closed his eyes and let his mind wander to the cells once again. He needed to see his son, even if it wouldn’t provide the answers he...
He jolted.
There was someone in Loki’s cell.
Someone he did not recognise. Something he did not recognise.
He would have leapt of his throne to summon the guards had Loki not calmly thrown his book through the creature’s face.
It bounced off the cell shield with a small burst of light.
An illusion.
It was not impossible for someone to send an illusion across realms, but it was not easy, let alone into the cells in the depths of Asgard. No simple feat to cast one's mind so far, and yet, it had been achieved. Someone had cast an illusion into his son’s cell. There was little the guards could do, and yet he was still tempted to call them forth. But this was the first time since Loki had entered the cell that he wasn’t borderline catatonic, and maybe, just maybe, he could get answers.
“We told you there was not a place you could hide where we could not find you if you failed.”
Thor had suggested Loki was not working alone, the army had no known source, Tyr had pointed out that the strategy differed from what they would have expected from Loki... This being was a part of that.
“Define failed?”
And Loki was smiling... the same smile as he’d held in the court only wider and brighter, like he'd succeeded in a way nobody but he could understand.
Had he?
“He is disappointed in you.”
Who, exactly, was he?
“Good.”
No, this smugness was not the fake one he’d seen in the trial. Loki’s pride was genuine. He was truly proud of what he’d done, and finally faced with something that understood what that was.
“You did not work so hard to leave us to end up in a cell.”
“You must think me stupid,” Loki stood now to face the other being, “just because he no longer has a vice grip of my mind does not mean I cannot feel the control you have still. It took all my cunning to make sure his invasion of Midgard failed, all my strength...”
To make sure his invasion of Midgard failed? Oh, Loki’s actions had made no sense with the goal of winning, but losing... a victory they could not understand.
Aye, that made a lot more sense.
But why in the Norns hadn’t Loki just told them so.
Why hadn’t Loki told them this?
The being’s lips curled.
“All your strength, just to put you in a cell you’ll never leave.”
“I’m fine with that.”
“Are you?”
“So long as I'm in this cell he can’t use me to hurt anyone else. The people I love, my family, Asgard and all the Nine Realms, they’re safe. He cannot use me against them if I cannot leave this cell.” Loki tapped the magic shielding of the cell, designed for beings more powerful than his son, “And believe me I am willing to die in here to keep them safe.”
They were the words he’d been hoping to hear since they first brought Loki home, and yet it was the last thing he wanted to hear. Loyalty in the face of horror. Loyalty displayed as sacrifice. Loki had not turned against them, but instead something terrible had happened.
Something terrible had happened to his son.
“And what makes you think he will allow that?”
“Oh, he’s still scared of Asgard’s strength. Is that not why he needed me so badly; all that hard work and effort over me, all the time you put into turning me, to get an agent within the Nine? Besides, he’s weak. He lost his favourite weapon, and the one he sent me to find. Funny how that works out.”
“You may hide in here for now, but he will bring you home eventually. You were reborn on the Sanctuary, you are his child...”
“I am not his child! I am Loki Odinson, and I will keep my name proudly. No amount of torture or playing with my mind will take that away. You did not break me!”
The creature got right into Loki’s space, face inches from his own, and Odin could see the barely concealed tremors in his son’s hands, the too tight stiffness from the rest of his body.
The creature saw it too, face twisting into a facsimile of a smile.
Could it’s manifestation hurt Loki here? Should he have called the guards the second he saw it and just waited until Loki was willing to give them the answers himself? If it hurt his son and all he could do was watch because he’d failed to act quickly enough, if he failed his son again...
“We will.”
“Get out, Other. If I can’t get you out of my mind at least be courteous enough to get out of my cell.”
Loki had pulled right back, false bravado covering the quiver in his voice.
“See you in your dreams, brother. I will be waiting for you.”
Loki threw a glass at it’s head as it vanished.
The glass shattered into pieces against the barrier, the cell fell silent.
A second later his son crumpled to the floor of the cell, pulling his legs close to his chest. The bravado he’d held in the face of that being had left with it. Tremors shook Loki’s hands and he made no effort to still them, every breath was shaky, this reaction, he hadn’t seen one like it since Loki was a child. Since Loki was small enough to safely scoop into his arms and shield against the dangers of the world. Norns he wished he could shield his child now, but he did not even know where to begin.
It had called Loki brother.
You are his child.
What had happened in the void? What had happened to his son since that accursed day on the bridge?
How was he to fix this?
Odin found himself standing before he even realised it, feet leading him from the throne room. He had to speak to his son, he had to get real answers this time. He had something to work from now, for his son, Asgard and the Nine Realms, he would get answers. Loki had believed himself and that creature alone, his words had not been lies for Asgard’s sake. Loki was still loyal, he had been coerced, and Odin would get to the bottom of it.
He would get the truth from his son.
The doors to the jails opened. The guards did not so much as bat an eye as he passed them, well trained as they were, and he ventured past criminals and traitors to the isolated end of the prison. For now, they were keeping him away from the common criminals.
Loki did not look up at his approach; he did not react at all.
He looked more put together than he had a few minutes before, but he remained on the floor against the wall.
“Loki.”
Nothing. Was it resentment, self-preservation. He had called himself Odinson, yet he would not turn to look at him, would not so much as react to his voice.
“Loki, please. My child, can you truly not look at me?”
His shoulders stiffened but nothing more than that. Once again, unwilling to say anything of his own volition, unwilling to defend his own innocence, but it wasn’t that near-catatonia he’d been giving them before. The wall had cracked; the carefully crafted shield had been shaken. For all that had changed in the last two years, he knew his son well enough to know that thing, that Other, it had terrified him.
“Who was that in your cell, Loki? What is going on?”
“You should leave.”
Loki's voice sounded more haggard than it had against the creature, more haggard than he ever wanted to hear.
“Not without answers. I heard every word, Loki, I need you to tell me what’s going on.”
“If you heard so much, you do not need me to say anything.”
“Don’t play the fool.” he snapped, before taking a deep breath, getting riled up wouldn’t help anything, “let me help.”
“You can help by leaving.” Loki paused, before his shoulders slumped slightly and some of the sharpness left his voice, “You need me in this cell. It’s safest for everyone.”
“I cannot believe that.”
“That is your problem, but none the less it is the truth.”
He had the terrible feeling that for the first time since his return, Loki was telling the truth. Or at least what he believed to be the truth. Odin could not find it in himself to believe it was. No, his son was not doomed to stay in this cell forever more, it could never be the best thing for everyone, it would never be the best thing for Loki. Not his free-spirited son. Not Loki who worked out world-walking so young because his spirit could not be contained to one place alone.
“Who sent you, Loki. You told your visitor that you failed ‘his’ invasion on purpose, that you were coerced. Knowing how well you have always strategized, I believe that. Why rot in a cell for another’s crime?”
“He made it perfectly clear what the consequences would be if I failed to return with both the sceptre and the tesseract. I understood the consequences of invading Midgard if and when I was caught. I knew what the consequences of my actions would be either way, and I made my choice. This is the better option.”
“You do not think Asgard can protect you?”
The silence stretched.
“Who, Loki. Who did this?”
Loki shook his head, shifting slightly away, eyes locked on the far side of the cell.
“I had to protect the Nine. If I was to be a weapon, best I be locked away forevermore. Like all the others in Asgard's vaults.”
His mind turned once more to that doomed conversation in the vaults before the Sleep had taken him. If he’d had but moments more, could he have assuaged Loki’s fears, avoided all of this. Was that one moment where all of this hinged?
“You are not a weapon, Loki. You are my child.”
“You should leave.”
The hardness had returned to Loki’s voice, and he forced the growing frustration back again. Why was he being so resistant to help? How was he meant to fix any of this if Loki would not tell him what he needed to know? Why was his son trying to anger him into abandoning him.
How could Loki believe he was going to be able to walk away when he spoke of himself so?
“I will not. I lost you once, I will never make that mistake again.”
“I am not even your son.”
“You were always my son. From the second I held you in my arms. It may be my greatest regret that you did not know this well enough.” he forced his anger down “Please Loki, let me help you.”
“I can’t. Just leave!”
“I will not let you suffer more than you already have. Even if you won’t talk to me, I have seen evidence enough with my own eyes to release you from your cell and return you to your rooms.”
“No!”
For perhaps the first time since his return, Loki looked him in the eye, his own wide with panic. They were only inches from each other, separated only by the shield of the cell between them, a barrier Loki seemed intent on keeping there. He would be relieved that Loki could even look at him, if not for the fact that he never wanted to see such terror in his child again. His son truly believed whatever threats that were keeping him in this cell, truly believed this was for the best. He had kept up the lie when confronted by his mother, by his brother, and if he had not witnessed that foul being, Odin was certain Loki would have kept it up with him too. Forever, if his son felt it necessary, despite the isolation, the confinement, both so antithetical to who his son was. What force in this universe could have instilled this fear, what had happened in the place Heimdall could not see?
A weapon locked away in a vault, not their prince, not his son.
Something steeled in Loki’s gaze as he held it, a veneer over the panic.
“I have blood on my hands, I committed those crimes, you cannot absolve me of that, and for less than that I would be confined to this cell anyway.”
“You were coerced...”
“You cannot prove it. The people won’t...”
“I am king, they will listen to what I have to say. And when I say that I have seen proof that you were coerced and yet still chose to defend the Nine against a great threat at great risk to yourself, they will hear that too.”
“You would doom all of them.”
Something in Loki’s voice changed there, not just his voice, his whole demeanour. Not panicked, not defiant, just... weary. So weary it made his stomach twist. His child should never sound so tired, so worn down, so broken. Every inch of him seemed to sag as he stepped away from the edge of the cell, the bags under his eyes that Odin hadn’t been able to see before seemed to deepen before his eyes, lines that bit too deep into a face that hadn’t even passed his majority yet. Norns he was too young to have been though so much.
Odin found himself stepping back. He would not get an answer from Loki tonight, nothing more than Loki had been willing to give. They would go around in circles until one or both of them turned to anger and this tentative bridge was burned. Loki had already been threatened by this creature today, he reminded himself, it was fresh in his mind. This was the beginnings of finding the truth, and he would not stop, but he knew he would get no more from Loki today. Worse, he had the feeling if he did let Loki free now, his son would take drastic measures to return himself to a cell. Something had founded that terror, and terror could inspire deeply irrational action. Loath as he was to admit it, Loki would have to remain in this cell at least another night, until he could get to the source of that fear and fix whatever had caused it.
Besides, there was much he still had to do. He needed to inform Frigga and the council of this development, make certain they understood there was an outside threat at play, that Loki was innocent and still likely in danger, and that there was work to be done. In finding the truth, and in bringing Loki justice. An enemy of Asgard had captured their prince, taken forced him into an attack on the Nine that he had thwarted. Taken, in Loki’s own unguarded words, a vice-grip on his mind. The very idea made his hands tremble.
It was an act of war.
~.~
Odin wished his steps were not so loud as he walked to the far end of the prison, to the cell his son remained in. By the time he was outside Loki’s cell, his son was sitting, cross legged, face set in that practiced mask. It had been the same every day since the first, and after a week of trying, he had made little progress. Where Loki had been rattled before, he had now steeled himself. His words were sharp and practiced, his defences proving impossible to get past. He had made so little progress, scraps of new information that did not help him free his son. If even half of what he feared had truly happened to his son, then he would not be able to wait him out. A new tactic was needed.
“Why do you persist on wasting your time?”
“I’m not here for answers you won’t give me, Loki. Just a game of chess.”
He placed the set down and started putting the pieces into place, setting Loki’s green pieces against his own gold ones. The pieces were worn in places, as was the set itself; used time and again since he’d gifted it to his son for his 550th year. Except of course for the past year, where it had been sitting untouched.
“Chess? This is a weak attempt to get answers; you lose your touch.”
“Oh?”
“Seems an odd circumstance to start a new tradition when we have never once played chess before. Unless you are already getting tired of our little talks, in which case, I would not take offence if you stopped them.”
His stomach twisted.
Never once?
They had played chess once a week since Loki had been old enough to clamber onto the seat in his study and grab at the pieces. He'd picked up the strategy immediately, masterfully, and it had been Odin’s great joy to watch him grow into a keen player. He had so many fond memories of stressful days broken by Loki dragging him to the desk so they could play, a cunning smile curling his son’s lips as he finally started actually forcing him to play properly. They’d had so many conversations over this board, over the years, light and jovial to taking the weight of some stress from Loki’s shoulders, or Loki trying to take some from his. Their game from before Thor’s failed coronation had gathered dust in his office, interrupted and never finished. He hadn’t the heart to move or remove it, at least until last night, where he’d carefully cleaned each piece.
He couldn’t get rid of that part of his son.
Yet someone had; they’d removed it from Loki himself.
How could Loki not remember this? How could something that had meant so much to them both have been pulled from his memory? What had they done to his son?
What more had they taken?
“What!”
Something had changed in Loki’s tone; the snapped question had an undercurrent that hadn’t been there before. Unsettled by his reaction maybe, by the way he’d frozen in place part way through setting up the board, trying to process those words.
“You don’t remember?”
“Evidently not.”
“This is your set, Loki. We have certainly played before, a great many times.”
For a few moments, Loki’s face twisted, and he looked so much like the child that had tugged on his robe and looked up at him for guidance and safety. Uncertain and searching and scared. All too quickly it hardened into that same damned closed off mask.
“Whatever you say.”
“You have the first move.”
Loki huffed and rolled his eyes but called out a square for his pawn none the less.
Odin didn’t let himself breathe the sigh of relief he felt. Loki was participating, engaging, not just turning his back. Not a blunt dismissal, not more insistence that he should leave... not the answers he wanted, but a step in the right direction. A big step from where they’d been a week ago, a galaxy from where they’d been before Loki fell. Small steps were better than nothing though, he had to remember that. Every conversation Loki engaged in instead of shutting him out was a step closer to fixing this. Or at least, fixing what he could.
For all that Loki had claimed to have no memory of them ever playing together, he certainly remembered all of Odin’s tricks and favoured plays. It seemed to surprise him, but he did not comment on it. In fact, most of their game was played in silence, save Loki having to call each move from behind that damned shield.
That look on his face, before they’d started, had not reappeared, but a familiar creased brow and slight frown had made a return. Annoyed curiosity, like he had a puzzle to solve, and it had nothing to do with the game. Was this the first time Loki had realised there were holes in his memories? As they played, was he realising that despite what he had clearly believed, they had indeed played together before. That whatever was missing, it may not be the only thing. That was the thought haunting Odin, who knew what else had been taken from him. Nobody would remove their chess games and leave everything else intact, not when the process needed to do such a foul thing was so...
Someone had done that to his son!
Why the chess? Of all memories why the ones that were so small in the grand scheme of things. There was no political necessity to them, no key information for them to have gleaned with any regularity to have made them important, they were simply fond memories, brief moments of quiet between them in the chaos of...
Fond memories.
Good memories.
They were simply good memories, of Asgard, of their family, of his relationship with his son.
In an attempt to turn Loki against them, to mould him to their will, had they taken his good memories? Every scrap of love, every moment of joy. Were those the memories Loki’s captor had pilfered and destroyed in an attempt to create a weapon against the Nine. When he asked his brother if they mourned, when he accused them of throwing him to the void, when he’d insisted he remembered only a shadow, oh Norns, had they spared anything?
Did he remember anything of playing games with his brother, learning magic with his mother, all the evenings Odin had spent reading to him? Thor holding him after nightmares and telling him stories to drive the monsters away, mastering his first spells, falling asleep in his study or the library or somewhere else with his head in a book and being carried to bed. Every family meal, every quest with his friends, every feast or celebration. Quiet breakfasts and holding him tight when he was sick and all the small insignificant things, every little scrap of love. Had they erased all of it, left only the rare arguments and stressful days and curated something twisted out of that? Or had they taken it a step further and filled the gaps with their own rotted versions of his childhood?
I remember a shadow.
He loathed how likely the second option was. Did they have any chance of truly getting him back, or would he be rebuilding a new bond with a boy who wore his child’s face, but carried little else of Loki with him. Were those memories truly gone, or simply burried and muddled. How much of his child had those monsters left?
He had to believe it was the latter. Loki had fought for Asgard, even after all of it, there had to be some of the good left. Perhaps it was a fool's belief, but he had to believe there was something left.
“It’s your move.”
“I believe you have me in check either way, my son.”
“I believe I do.”
~.~
“Father, Healer Eir, General Tyr, to what do I owe this pleasure?”
Once again Loki was ready for them, mask in place, standing in the middle of the cell with his hands on his hips. Still, despite everything that had changed, he could read Loki well enough to know he was more guarded today than he had been when they’d been alone. This move had thrown him off balance, Odin could only hope it wouldn’t be enough to break the trust he’d been trying to build.
“Healer Eir is here to help you.”
“And the general?”
“You keep insisting you are a danger, my son. I would have thought you’d appreciate the precaution.”
He had hated the idea of needing a guard to see his son, to get his son medical help that he clearly needed, but he could not dismiss Loki’s terror or statements as some sort of paranoia. No matter how much he wanted to dismiss it, he could not. It was why Loki had not yet been freed, despite knowing he was not the one who bore the guilt for the crimes committed on Midgard. Not if there was a chance the danger he spoke of was true, for his kingdom and for his son. Loki had enough guilt on his shoulders without him making it worse. He had to trust his son, even on this. To bring Tyr was perhaps overkill, but he trusted the General with his life, and with Loki’s life. His strength, his discretion, and his understanding of what this could mean for the Nine.
He would have asked Thor, but his son could not be as practical about his brother as Tyr, and Loki seemed to have more cutting words for him than any other, save perhaps Frigga. He was not surprised, Thor had always been so protective of Loki, if his son’s goal was to drive away anyone who might try to free him, his harshest words would have been saved for his brother and mother. The words he’d reserved for Frigga on her last visit had left her utterly heartbroken, yet he knew she’d come back and face it again if there was a chance she could get through the walls he’d crafted. Somehow, he had managed to achieve a sense of balance with Loki, and he did not want to jeopardize it even a little. That Loki only tilted his head slightly instead of turning to those cutting words on him felt like a step in the right direction.
Frigga and Thor would have plenty of time to comfort and smother Loki once he was out of his cell.
“Perhaps the smartest thing you’ve done since throwing me into this cell. So, how is it you think I need healing.”
“We wish to check your health in this cell, and... the condition of your mind.”
“You fear my memories have been tampered with. You're right, they have been. I do not need a healer to confirm that.”
He closed his eye and bowed his head with a shaky breath at Loki’s blunt confirmation, even as Tyr stepped forwards.
“You did not think to mention such an important detail at your trial?”
“You do not see the bigger picture General, if you did, you would know it wasn’t important at all.”
“You were held captive, had your memories tampered with, and were forced to attack the Nine. In what reality are those details unimportant in your defence? I can think of little more important, my prince.”
He did not miss the way Loki winced at the honorific.
“In any case I do not need your assistance, I am sorting through my memories myself. I have little else to do in here and therefore I see no reason to rush the process along.”
“The mind is a dangerous thing to work with alone, you know that well enough, Prince Loki. From your own studies and your time learning from me, you would have better success if you were not undertaking it alone.”
“I think I've had enough of other people poking around in my mind, if that’s quite alright.”
Eir recoiled slightly at the insinuation and Odin felt himself stepping forwards, the same questions as before falling from his lips.
“By whom, Loki, to what end?”
“Why must you keep asking the same questions?”
“Because someone has harmed my son, and I do not forgive that.”
Loki furrowed his brows, but did not respond beyond tilting his head.
“I will not let this go unanswered; I will not let them get away with this. And I will not let you suffer one more second than you already have if there is anything I can do to help it.”
“You can't fix it. This, this is the best option.”
“I refuse to believe leaving you in there is the best option.”
“Well there’s always the axe.”
“Do not even joke.”
The very idea made his very soul recoil. It had been nauseting when they had believed Loki guilty of treason, but now they knew he was innocent, yet another victim of the monster behind this all, it was utterly unthinkable. To kill his son, as if watching him die once hadn’t ripped something from his soul once already. To keep him imprisoned was leagues better, if still unacceptable.
Every idea but one was unthinkable, and therefor there was only one solution.
They would have to find a way to fix this.
“Would you allow me to examine you, my prince?”
“Did you not when I was brought back in chains?”
“A cursory scan for physical ailments. This would be deeper, more robust, but not invasive. I would only be looking to see if there was damage, not trying to poke at it or repair it, not without your consent.”
“Examine away,” he opened his arms out mockingly, “you will find only what I have already told you. Proof that this is the best place for me to be.”
The moment of opening the cell was tense, and yet, anticlimactic. Loki had made it sound like he would be an active threat the second he had the opportunity. Like he would make an escape or an attack the second the shielding went down, but nothing happened. He remained exactly where he had been, in the centre of the cell, and let them approach. To his credit, Tyr did not let down his guard, and Eir was fearless in her approach. He wished he could let himself be relieved that Loki had been conned into believing whatever had kept him in this cell, kept him from telling them the truth, but he could not let himself let his guard down yet. Not yet, just in case.
Loki did not so much as flinch at the golden glow of Eir’s hands, or how it swirled around his head. Odin wished that was a good sign, but the way he stood stock still, the white of his knuckles, trained stillness. Engrained stillness. The kind of response that came from untold horror, not relaxed indifference.
It chilled him to the bone.