"But I have done a thousand dreadful things
As willingly as one would kill a fly,
And nothing grieves me more heartily indeed
But that I cannot do ten thousand more."
The Trial of Loki
Chapter 1
The Return
Loki was motionless as Thor stood opposite him, their hands clasped to either end of the Cube. The ones known as Barton and Romanoff, Hawkeye and Black Widow as Thor had heard them addressed, stood to his left, watching. Hawkeye's glare was aimed only at Loki, and Thor had no doubts why. He himself had a few choice words for his brother, but was saving them for Asgard.
The ones called Stark and Banner, Thor's friendly and worthy opponent, stood at his back, both looking prepared should the situation become volatile. Such was a possibility; Loki was returning to Asgard for the strictest of punishment from Odin, the Allfather, and the Council of Elders. An escape did not seem beyond him.
The one known as Rogers stood alone, separated from the rest, watching diligently. Thor nodded to him in camaraderie as he prepared to return home. Rogers inclined his head, all the words of their shared battle needing not be spoken.
Thor turned back to Loki, whose head was bowed in his defeat, his hands bound in a specially concocted metal chain and his face beaten beneath the jaw trap that had been fastened to his face before their departure from the Assembly. The one-eyed man known as Fury, a fine name for a warrior, had shown Thor how to remove it, and informed him that only he could. He didn't quite understand the technology of the mortals, but Fury had made it clear that only Thor's hand would release the clasp. Fury had followed it with a smirk and advice that he never do so.
Thor felt a pang of pity and empathy for his brother, however, as he stood apart from him, looking at his broken, ruined form. He pushed the feeling away, much as he pushed away pain during battle, and tentatively reserved the thoughts for a later time.
Stark nodded his head, his eyes trailing to his hand-built contraption containing the cube. Thor let his eyes wander a final time to his many companions as he prepared to say goodbye.
The Hulk, now standing reservedly in human form, his slender limbs contained in a gray suit. He had been worthy and powerful; quite a capable man.
Stark, the man of iron, his eyes shielded behind some sort of eyewear, smirking slightly at his contraption that now rested in Thor's hand.
Rogers, a soldier to his very core, solemn but content.
Romanoff and Barton, their proximity suggesting closeness. Thor felt happiness for them as his eyes passed over them.
They landed on Loki at last, who stood, eyes and spirit downcast, hand unwavering but clenched on the Cube's opposite end. Thor took in a breath as he twisted the contraption's end, as Stark had advised, and the familiar jerking of the Bifrost lifted him and his brother from Midgard.
