He doesn't even know what time it is, but something tells him it is late.
Time passes strangely when one is hidden away in the dungeons like some dusty relic. Lined up alongside petty criminals from dusk to dawn, day in and day out. Come to think of it, it might not be late at all. Perhaps it is actually a peaceful afternoon? Loki knows not of time anymore; he seems always to be tired. He can appear controlled and contemplative on the outside, however, because that is all he is anyhow. What is he expected to be? Manic? Woeful? Sitting in the corner of his cell thinking about what he'd done wrong?
No. Truly, the only thing Loki is thinking about is how to get out of these confines.
He isn't desperate… But, then again, he is extremely desperate. No matter. He will find a way out eventually, will he not? Some form of trickery, bribery, manipulation, he's certain. He is Loki Odinson, damn it, and finding a crafty escape even in the dungeons of Asgard will certainly come to him in time.
Wherever you go, there is war, ruin, and death. Fancy that, Odin. Loki thinks the All-Father should be quite proud of his son at this point.
If situations were different, Loki would have requested alcohol by now. But he would rather keep his head sharp until he gets out of this wretched confine.
Oh, who is this?
A figure approaches Loki's cell, drawing nearer until he can see them clearly. Even as a mere silhouette, Thor is still taller than Loki. And bulkier and clumsier, the god ought to add.
"Ah, brother, how delightful it is for you to visit me," Loki says, the venom of sarcasm dripping from his tongue. "Why?" he turns to question, before his not-brother thinks for a moment that he's actually happy to see him. "Have you come to gloat? To mock?"
"Loki, enough," Thor sighs in a tired sort of way. "I've not come here to instigate any petty quarrel."
"Don't pretend you've come to simply visit me after months and not a word," Loki snaps quickly. "You've come for something, now what is it?"
"Father has fallen into the Odin-Sleep."
Loki laughs now, partially without realizing it. "That is rich," he says. "So you have come to gloat after all! Ah, do go enjoy the burden of the throne, Thor. I've no time to listen to your boasts."
"I do not boast, brother, I've—"
Loki cuts these words off instantly. "Need I remind you that we're not—"
"Enough," Thor bellows, not allowing him to finish his sentence either. Loki settles for an exasperated sigh and a purse of his lips. "I've come to ask something of you," Thor continues. "To ask of your help."
"Oh, please," Loki sighs. He's already growing bored of this trifling conversation. But he decides to question the god, nonetheless. "Go on…"
"Until Father wakes," he continues. If he wakes, Loki wants to correct. He holds back a chuckle at the silent remark. "I am king." Thor sighs with a faint shake of his blond head. "Mother fears that Father may never wake this time." Wouldn't that be something?
"How terrible," Loki drawls. "Now why do you ask for my assist?"
Thor composes himself at these words, taking in an arming breath. Did him no good—Loki would always be better at a stiff upper lip. "I'm looking for a woman," says Asgard's king, "named Jane Foster."
Loki's laughing quite honestly now. This was just one hilarity after the next, was it not? The All-Father is in the Odin-sleep, Thor is on the throne, and now he looks for the company of a mere mortal? The god of mischief is close to having tears in his eyes.
Thor remains unamused, perhaps looking even more solemn than a few moments ago. "I do not jest."
"The mortal?" Loki mocks. "I suspect you want me to go and retrieve her, then?" There's still a trace of laughter on his tongue.
"Mortal," Thor repeats the word, clenching and unclenching his fists. "We're not gods, Loki, no matter how much you want to think."
"Yes, yes, we're born, we live, we die, just as humans do. I'm afraid Father beat you to that speech." Loki resists the urge to roll his eyes just as he would back when they were children. "So I shall tell you the same: give or take 5000 years." He can feel himself smirking.
"I am well aware of these complications and I care not," Thor says stiffly, like he's practiced this line over and over again. He probably has: words are Loki's specialty, not his.
"Then I ask, what's in it for me?" He's been waiting to ask this since the subject came into conversation, really, and he awaits the answer.
"Freedom. From this cell."
Thor might fall for such a simple temptation, but Loki won't. "What makes you think you can trust me?"
"I don't."
Why wouldn't Thor choose one of his little friends to fetch his pathetic woman? One of the warriors who Loki once thought he could trust? He decides not to push this, however. The word freedom has a lovely ring to it. He knows he will not so much as taste freedom so easily, however. Frankly, he wouldn't be surprised if he were sent to Midgard bound in shackles.
Was Thor truly this dull? To send him straight back to Earth after he had almost destroyed it? Well, thank you, King of Asgard, Loki thinks, you are certainly making my job easier.
It's as if Thor has read his mind, however. "Do not get any ideas, brother," he says, and Loki finds himself frowning at that word. "Heimdall will be watching over you at all times. Betray, and I will kill you."
Does he not remember what Loki did with the Frost Giants? He won't remind him of it. Instead, Loki finds the preface to a smirk on his lips as he looks at his not-brother. He hums, "You must be truly desperate, to come to me for help."
Thor's expression does not change. "You will bring Jane Foster to Asgard, Loki," Thor says. He sighs, turning a shoulder as he takes his leave. "Or you may remain in these confines until the end of your days."
Loki can feel a smile stretching across his face now as Thor lumbers off down the hall.
So, redemption, Loki thinks, excitement flourishing in his chest. That's what this is all about.
"Are you out of your mind?"
Sif follows Thor down the hall, matching his pace, if not taking swifter strides. It has been a day since Thor has spoken to his brother, and he is on his way now to the dungeons to retrieve him. He's told no one about these plans—only Frigga and Heimdall. He doesn't know how Sif had found out, but he didn't question the warrior either.
"Loki nearly destroyed Earth, Thor, this is utter madness!" Sif goes on.
Thor stops in his strides, causing Sif to trail around in front to face him. "Is there anyone else I could send?" he asks rhetorically.
Sif frowns. "Why not any of your friends, Thor? Why not Fandral? Hogun? Volstagg?" she presses. "Why not me?"
"Do you think any of them would be fond of traveling to Earth only to bring back a mortal?" Thor asks her in all honesty. "Would you, truthfully?"
Sif purses her lips, falling silent for a moment. He wishes that Sif out of all people, would understand. Frigga understood. Then again, Thor and Loki are her sons. "It's madness," she repeats under her breath. "How do you know Loki will not betray you?"
Thor chuckles fondly at that, and he does not know what makes him do so. He begins walking again, and Sif is quick to follow suit. "He will try," Thor says. "Heimdall will watch him, Sif. If Loki does betray, he will not get far." He ponders this for a moment, they both do. He adds, "Besides, there may be a part of my brother, no matter how small, that I believe may be redeemable."
Sif shakes her head, and they stop just before the stairs leading to the dungeons. "Out of all the women in Asgard and you latch onto the mortal…," she sighs with a faint laugh in her voice. Her eyes meet his with a strength he will never forget about her. "Be careful, my king."
The address doesn't feel right coming to Thor's ears, but he says nothing on it. Sif has already turned away and is stalking back off down the hall before he can reply. "Thank you," he sighs under his breath, before taking the stairs down into the dungeons.
On his descent, a pair of guards follow him. They know his plan, or rather, they know that their king wants his brother out of his confines. That was enough.
Loki is waiting for him, of course, and Thor wonders just how long his brother has been pacing about the cell with his hands clasped neatly behind his back.
"Loki," Thor says.
His brother sends him a wordless grin, watching as the guards free him from the cell. As Loki steps onto the stone ground, Thor can't tell if he's made a clever decision, or a fateful mistake. He supposes all kings wonder this.
"My king," Loki responds eloquently, joining him by his side.
It is at this point that Thor figures he's more on the end of 'fateful mistake.' But this could still work, it could still work, he must continue to tell himself. Loki is his brother, he was not always like this. He has simply lost his way, Thor thinks. He can be redeemed.
The two brothers leave the dungeons, the one with raven hair filled with a child-like enthusiasm as they move through the halls.
"This is so unlike you brother!" Loki hums as they head out of the palace. "So clandestine."
Thor sighs heavily and does not reply. He simply quickens his stride.
"Who else knows about this plan? Surely not many," Loki continues, a confident smirk on his pale features.
"Only Mother," Thor replies briefly. And Heimdall, but you know that much. He decides to leave out Sif's knowledge of his plans.
"Mother knows of your yearning for the mortal, then?" Loki says, glancing over at him as they exit the palace and walk into the sunlight. "I should have suspected such."
There are two horses waiting for them outside, ordered by Thor before he went to the dungeons. He hoists himself onto his, holding the reigns loosely in his hands. His brother follows suit, more enthusiastic than Thor has seen him in a while.
And then they were off to the Bifrost.
A/N - This is literally the first fanfiction I've ever written. Totally not sure if I'm gonna go anywhere with it, but Lokane is my OTP. Comments? If anyone wants to read more I'll post some, but for now, here's the premise.