Chapter Text
It was both loud and silent. The eerie stillness of the night clung to the prison like moisture absorbing all sounds, even the ones reverberating from the grand halls above. Each cell was dimmed and void of movement; the occupants long since asleep. Yet his mind stayed up, willing him awake over and over with the haunting image of Thor’s face looking down at him, arm outstretched.
He had said goodbye to a lot of things, in the moment he let go. It was not in a revelation that he decided but in slow contemplation. In watching carefully; the way others acted around him and the way they treated his once-brother. The shadow he had (for so long) fought to overcome, consumed him. In one chance encounter his own heritage came crashing down, and he finally knew just how small he really was.
He had said goodbye to his title that day, and to his kinship; goodbye to Frigga, his dear mother, to Odin. And to Thor. The very innocence that pushed him from the careful edge of mischief. It was in that fleeting moment he wondered whose fault it had really been. But then again, maybe he had known all along. In those few seconds he saw all he needed in Thor’s eyes. Unfaltering forgiveness, and undeserved guilt for a crime he was unaware he’d committed, and above all else; kindness.
No matter how deep his troubles, that kindness was always waiting. Risking itself for a monster that didn’t deserve another chance, and bringing about a subtle air of doubt for the older son among the Aesir, who now questioned his judgment. Loki was effectively overcoming his false-brothers shadow, but only by tainting it with his own. He was strong, in the moment he fell. Finding himself to be a small sacrifice for what would be a worthier rein than he would manage. And besides, it was exhausting; cleaning up after the Prince's rash behaviour. Even Hel would be more restful if he should fall so far. He sees the face again, wide blue eyes cast towards him in absolute dismay. He hears his name being called, and the hand reaching for him so pleadingly.
“Loki? Loki!”
A touch on his arm stripped away his mind and wrenched the imprisoned prince back to reality. For a moment his face bore a look of horror, breath shallow and needy. His hand dug into the arm holding his shoulder, and the fear melted into worry, which was covered in a mask of indifference and distaste. He peeled Thor’s hand away from him and sat up, putting distance between them.
“Sorry brother, I did not mean to startle you”
“And I am not startled. What is it you want with me, Odinson?” He weilded the surname like a sword, which cut through the balm of his self-deprecating thoughts, fighting anxiety with aggression. He didn't deserve the concern of Thor after all he’d done.
“The All-Father wishes an audience with you. I requested to come get you myself, so we might have words.” He leaned in. The urge to make contact was written all over the blondes face. Loki stood in retreat, refusing to allow himself the warm touch of another. It was only then that he noticed a new pile of his own clothes, folded neatly on the chair by his cot. A small golden flower lay upon them. A gift from his mother. A knot of guilt wound itself into his throat.
“Am I to be executed?”
“Brother!” Thor exclaimed in a rush, his emotions each finding themselves a place in his expression. Brow furrowed in concern, eyes wide in surprise, mouth open slightly in exasperation. He quickly snatched up the bundle (the small bud tumbled around haphazardly) and shoved it into Loki’s flinching arms. “We are going to a party. Staying locked in this cell will make you mad.” They shared a look, Loki questioning if it was too late, and Thor -hopeful as always- that there might still be salvation for his estranged brother. “I will wait for you at the top of the stairs. Don’t make our father wait.”
“Your father.” Loki murmured, as Thor shut the door roughly behind himself.
He was afraid of what this party might entail, and if that word held the same connotation for the rest of the guests as it would for him. He knew lingering on these thoughts only drove his mind deeper into spirals of fear and self loathing, but he could hardly stop himself. He had slipped so far into it after only a moment, watching Thor shift away out of sight. He both fought and accepted the overwhelming tide, feeling hours had passed where only minutes stood.
When the feeling of shifting clothing in his weak arms drew his mind to distraction, he clung to it, gripping the fabric like a lifeline and pulling himself free. He would get dressed. He would clear his thoughts and leave his mind blank.
He took his time with it. Loki freed himself of the loose sleeping clothes, throwing them over the back of his dressing screen, and letting his fingers feel the crisp hems of the clothes laid out for him. It took a moment to realize they were something newer from his collection. The Midgardian garb he had acquired to blend in Germany, paired with his softest scarf. He pressed the strip of fabric to his face, brushing it against his cheek. This scarf, he was certain, was the only thing worthwhile to come out of Midgard, but Norns was it a worthwhile thing indeed. He placed it carefully over the screen and turned to the rest of the clothing. One item at a time he unfolded and unfurled. Careful to tighten his belt over the narrow of his waist, and to watch himself carefully in the mirror as he knotted the tie under his chin. He brushed a hand over his smooth chin, skimming the sharp lines of his own face for a moment. His face was changed from what it had been. Sallow now, hollowing his cheeks and darkening his eyes. A stranger playing at himself, that same shape but now with a mind which focused on all things and nothing simultaneously. Urging him to slip and tumble into the abyss of terror which waited for him at the bottom of his thoughts. To the beast that lingered there and lured him with the sweetest words. He grabbed the scarf last and tucked it under the collar of his jacket.
He emerged from his cell not soon after Thor had left; taking a full thirty minutes to make sure every small thing on him was in its place. Each button on the undercoat turned to match its partner, his cuffs folded exactly even with each other. He placed the small bloom into the inner pocket at his heart and smoothed his hair before ascending the steep stone steps into the upper chambers.
His false-brother straightened at his arrival, matching their strides through the long quiet hallway.
“Thor, why is it that we are attending a party on Midgard?”
“Who told you?” He looked astonished until Loki pulled gently at the lapels of his foreign clothing, then Thor laughed loudly “It is more of a celebration than a party. Midgardians consume strange meads and create explosions for entertainment. There’s dancing too, sometimes. The Avengers were very kind to honour us with invitations.”
“Ah,” Loki misstepped “So this is to be my execution."
“No, Loki, must you be so bent on your own destruction? We are invited out of good faith.”
At this the creature in his mind hissed, turning his emerald gaze sharply towards Thor “And pray tell did they invite me specifically?” Thor paled “The very reason Odin is letting this pass is so that he may call my death a happy accident. Mortals have short, boring lives; it would not be so much of a stretch to assume that they would be less than pleased to see you have brought with you someone who wished more than an unpleasant dinner party upon their realm.” Thor's brow furrowed at the accusation.
“Our Father-“
“Your Father”
“Our Father,” he insisted “is concerned for you. You’re even paler than usual. You need to be in the company of others.” His eyes were kind, and because of that Loki felt his tongue hold fast. He didn’t snap about his heritage granting him the complexion of ice like he wanted to, but instead pushed open the immense doors they’d stopped in front of and strode into the main chamber of the AllFather, pressing his freshly bloomed frustration into his steps.
Odin sat upon his golden perch, looking down on his sons as they entered. The one-eyed gaze careful to evade Loki until he was unavoidably close, kneeling at the foot of the great throne. Their mother was notably absent, but Loki made a point to forgive her, as the hour was strange and the sun had no plans on rising for some time. He idly wondered if they’d return before she even woke. He felt a heavy pressure from the flower in his pocket. If he returned. The cold thought was interrupted by a deep, thundering voice. How could he have ever thought this was his father?
“Loki Laufeson,” Loki bristled. Son of none “You have been brought before me this evening at the request of Thor Odinson, so that you may be granted one full Midgardian day away from your cell in order to ensure that any vestiges of your sane mind should remain intact while you serve your penance on Asgard. To ensure that this excursion is completely risk-free for Yggdrasil and all of her occupants-” Honestly, you threaten just three realms and suddenly the whole World Tree was involved “-You will remain in the custody of Thor and are to follow his direction at all times.” Odin paused to get to his feet, taking slow steps down towards them as he spoke. Loki kept his eyes trained on the floor, tasting blood in his mouth for the effort of keeping quiet. “In addition, as you have proved yourself unworthy and not to be trusted, you will be stripped of all magical abilities-“ Loki’s heart stopped “-until you are returned back to Asgard, and in your cell.”
His magic? Surely the humiliation of staying under the Odinson’s watch all evening was punishment enough, but his magic? “The guise-“ he bit out but was silenced by a large too-hot hand on his head, pressing his gaze to the ground.
“That magic is, and always has been, a gift from Frigga. You will maintain it for as long as she sees fit.”
Loki suddenly understood the true significance of the flower in his pocket. Reassurance. He was no child, but at the loss of something so innately him...it comforted Loki to know he would not bear his true monstrous skin which sat beneath the film of enchantment. He held onto the thought as a sudden knife-like tearing seared its way across his back, and bit harder upon his cheek to fight a growing cry in his chest. It felt as though he was being rent in two, but only for an endless moment, before he was released by Odin, and found himself panting on the floor.
“Loki...” Ah yes, Thor. Likely reaching out to him, concern on his face. But Loki felt no camaraderie towards him. It was painfully apparent that his false-brother was aware of the price this venture would cost, but felt no reason to warn him, or even ask him if a night trip to Midgard was something he could fit into his schedule.
He would surely lose his life to the vengeance-filled mortals now, with nought even the power to defend himself, save through his tongue. The willowy prince pushed himself to his feet and raised his chin. “Heimdall will be waiting.” If these were his last hours, he would see them through with dignity, even if his voice betrayed him in a crackling split through his words. He strode from the grand hall without a pause to Odin, who returned to his seat and rest a hand upon his head.
He needn’t look back to know the longing gaze of his once-brother rested upon him. Though, for once, Thor had the decency of keeping quiet and let Loki pace ahead of him without disruption or distraction. One night. He reassured himself, just one night on Midgard. They were hardly a threat, and with Thor watching over him he was in relative safety.
The Bifrost met his feet, softening his steps as he moved across it. The iridescent flakes of energy gleamed up at him as they did in so many of his nightmares. Seeing it again had that monster in his head beckoning for him to let go, and to fall into the deep, unforgiving, sea of space. He briefly considered it. Especially now, he was greatly weakened by the experience of losing so much magic. His green eyes peered thoughtfully over the edge. It would be quick, probably. Not like last time, when he was swept into the in-betweens by sheer force of will. There would be nothing keeping his body from being tugged below the frigid waters and cast onto the shores of nothingness. His view was suddenly blocked by a great golden sphere, and he looked over, into it, meeting the unsettling gaze of the bridge keeper.
“Heimdall!” Thor's booming voice, jovial as always, deafened Loki with the echo in the small room. “We are nearly late, my friend, so I cannot stay to speak with you.” The guard nodded slowly and made his way to the pedestal, forcing into it a great sword. The walls around them began to slide and spin, angling the great golden spout towards Midgard. “Until tomorrow, my friend” Loki bade Heimdall a silent bow and stepped with Thor into the dimensional light.
They were transported to the party almost directly. Loki wondered briefly if this was because transporting a criminal would be an unnecessary risk, or because Thor couldn’t help but make a very loud, and unwelcome entrance.
Either way, the light they travelled from was hardly as impressive as the extravagant (and sensory assaulting) ceremony prepared for the arrival of Anthony Stark, that came only moments later. He was somewhat grateful, for the curious looks he received were unwelcome; as if they were trying to place his face to an event, but couldn’t quite remember.
It started with the squealing of some sort of electric instrument, perhaps the distorted version of a lute, and a vibrant explosion of, very alarming, fire-lights in the air above them. They lit the dark canvas like the Bifrost but faded as quickly as they came. Loki took a step behind Thor. The man came next, zipping out of the sky like a serpent, in his iron suit. The one who had offered him that drink, he remembered. The terrible music seemed to be coming from him and kept playing even after he had landed, and begun yelling nonsense at the crowd. The atrocious sounds seemed to fill the void of his magic (if only because he was focused on how foreign and unwelcome everything was) and his head began to feel numb. He felt a heavy hand on his back “Enjoy your evening Brother, I shall see you in the morn.” And he was abandoned before a refute could leave his mouth.