What about Loki?

~Loki Bartholomew Laufeyson

It all started one morning in prison from Odin hitting the glass, making noise to wake me up.

"Odin," I stretched. "What do you want at this hour?"

"For you to get up for your appointment." He answered.

I winced. "What appointment?"

At that moment, a man dressed in a business suit, holding a clipboard entered the hallway. "Mr. Odinson," he said. "Come with me."

I laughed. "Surely you must beworried about me escape—"

A tall, masculine man walked up next to him.

"… Ing," I finished. And then a smile grew upon my face. "You think only one guard is enough to scare me?" I chuckled. "Maybe you should consider—Oh my Asgard! What is THAT?!" I screamed as a bigger man came in.

The bigger man sneered. "You want a piece of me, #$%?"

What? You really think I would tell you what he really said to me?

"It's something called a professional wrestler." The man in the suit said.

"And what's that?" I pointed at the other big man.

"That is a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, thank you very much."

"And what is that?"

The man looked to whom I was staring at. "… Your father." He said.

Odin glared. He turned to the man. "May I have a word with you, Dr. Temple?" he asked.

Dr. Temple nodded, turned around, and they began to whisper. They turned back to me and smiled. Odin walked over to the wall and pressed the button to open my cell. "Stay." He ordered.

I snickered. "Should I?"

"Well," said Dr. Temple. "Aren't you going to invite me in?"

I glared. "No."

He entered my cell with his guards and sat down on a chair. The professional wrestler pushed me, causing me to fall onto my sofa. He stepped aside.

"Hello, Loki," the doctor said. "My name is Dr. Temple."

"Temple," I repeated. "That's an interesting name."

He rolled his eyes. "Just lie down and relax."

With a sigh, I turned over, lay down on my back and stared at the ceiling.

"Tell me about yourself, Mr. Odinson."

"You're not the kind of doctor I was thinking of, are you?" I grumbled.

"What kind of doctor did you think I was?" he asked.

"Medical." I sighed.

"Ah," he replied. "What have you been up to lately?"

"Nothing, but sitting down and drinking tea all day." I smiled sarcastically.

"Mr. Odinson—"

"Laufeyson." I corrected.

"Mr. Laufeyson, may I advise you to be a little more cooperative?"

"No," I answered. "… You must be a psychiatrist."

"I am."

"So that means I can tell you anything."

"Yes."

It was quiet.

"What molded you?" Dr. Temple asked.

"What?" I raised my voice.

"What made you…? You?"

A mischievous grin grew upon my face. And thus, I began to tell him a story:

It all started when I was sitting in a dark corner, thinking about what I had done, I felt upset, envious, and sad. It should've been mine.

Sif was angry at me, and I've never heard an apology ever since. Me? Grounded? I shouldn't be. Thor took Sif's present. He should be here, not me.

"Sorry." said Thor. His voice was gloomy.

"Brother?" I perked up.

"Yes." He replied. He walked into the light. He had something in his hand-Sif's present! He handed it to me. "You do know why I took it… Right?" he asked me as I took the gift.

I rubbed my eyes. "Yes. You wanted it just as much as I did."

"Nah… It's-It's not hers… It belongs to my friend, Fandral."

I gasped. "You took it from Fandral?"

"… Yes…" Thor responded looking guilty. "I did… Okay… Give me a break. I'm eleven."

"It should still be mine." I said sadly, looking down.

It should've been mine, I kept thinking. But I still didn't know what was inside until I opened it and found a cold diamond. It seemed to lure me.

"Hold up," Dr. Temple interrupted. "Lure you? Mr. Laufeyson, are you sure this is what molded you?"

I nodded. "Yes," I lied. "Anyway."

"Legend says it lures evil people." Thor suggested as he smiled.

I looked up at him with worry. "It what—?"

"Does it lure you into wanting it…?"

"I—no." I said. "Of course it doesn't."

Yes. I lied. I shouldn't have done that. But there are other things I should regret and this is not one of them. Then I realized what Thor was up to.

"You're joking." I chuckled.

Thor laughed back. "Of course I am! It's just a diamond! Nothing special!"

I laughed.

We both laughed more. Then it was silent.

"We…" said Thor. "Should probably get going. I'm thinking about tripping somebody." Thor's eyes gleamed.

"With what?" I asked. "Oil or rope?"

"I'd say both. After all, I took the gift from Fandral, gave it to Sif, and then took it back."

Thor never really admits to anything unless he's lying. In which, this case, he might have been telling the truth. Or most likely he was lying to keep someone else from getting into trouble because he's the "favorite" and everybody loves him, so nobody would hurt him at all.

"Something tells me 'favorite' with your hand quotations is a key word." The doctor said.

I chuckled. "It is."

I heard Dr. Temple's pen writing something down.

We found the rope in the weaponry and the oil in the kitchen. We went to the throne room and tied the rope from column to column. We poured the oil all over the soft, marble floor. We hid behind a column and watched.

We waited and waited until it was dark.

"I see someone." Thor whispered. "Loki? Loki? Wake up." He shook my shoulder for me to wake up.

"Give me a break," I mumbled. I sat up and rubbed my eyes. "I'm only nine."

"I see someone." Thor repeated.

I perked up to see who it was. It was hard to tell. All I could see was a shadow. But it looked like one of the guards; a beard, cape, and staff. The guard tripped over and yelped.

"What is this madness?" he screamed.

"Oh, no," I gasped. "It's father!" At that time I realized I said it a bit loud. I looked at Thor and saw him running. I was left there.

"LOKI!" Odin screamed.

"And that, Dr. Temple, is how I got grounded." I smiled.

He was silent.

"You are one unstable person, Mr. Laufeyson." One of the guards said.

The doctor sighed. "Thank you for that statement, Agent Johnson. Now, tell me, Loki. Why did Thor take the diamond—?"

"DO NOT SPEEK OF MY BROTHER!" I screamed at the top of my lungs.

It was quiet until I heard more writing. He must've been writing: This man is emotionally unstable. I'm probably going to be dead by the time I leave.

I just love to mess with mortals' minds!