Each step was pain. With the flick of a finger, he made the cold stone turn hot under the soles of his boots. Green-tinged magicked flames that burned without consuming illuminated his descent into hell.
The last time he had set foot upon these stairs, it was with the accompanying clink of chains and shoves from guards, with an image of Frigga in his mind and Odin's growl echoing in his ears that he would never see his mother again.
They'd always said Odin could see the future.
But Loki had never believed that, and now knew it was not so, because he whom Odin proclaimed to have a birthright of death now sat on the golden throne.
But his mother –
You're not.
The words, the last words he'd said to her, hammered at the back of his mind.
And she wasn't. Because she was dead.
You might want to take the stairs on the left.
Loki closed his eyes, and the stairs stopped burning.
Because the stairs were not to blame.
Nevertheless, he was glad to leave them behind.
The familiar hell that was the cell block welcomed him back with open arms.
Or rather, the guards thought they welcomed Odin with open arms. The two Asgardians swiftly knelt, and Loki banished thoughts of his darkest sin and let a smirk curl his lips at the sight. Outwardly, the illusion of Odin stiffly nodded.
"I wish to inspect the cell which held the prisoner Loki," he intoned in perfect mimicry of the allfather's voice. "I need no assistance. Remain at your posts."
He swept past them, still smirking beneath his guise. And bring me a hundred tankards of ale, he wanted to add, but resisted the temptation. Someone in the kitchens might still remember that one time he'd issued the same order, only on that occasion he'd been much, much younger and veiled as Frigga...
The pounding of prisoners against the transparent walls of the cells provided a welcome distraction. Beings from various realms beat against their cages at the sight of Asgard's king. Not all of them were proper warriors, some were merely troublemakers Thor had subdued with his mighty hammer of peace and love and glitter and then deemed dangerous enough to lock up. One harsh voice rose above the rest, vowing to depose Odin.
Loki clapped.
Until the man started threatening to kill the allfather in a rather graphic way.
Odin did not deserve death. He deserved the shame of being a monster, the crushing pain of being lied to, the frustration of being valuable but ignored.
The hopelessness of being left for dead.
Loki had given him what he deserved.
The books his mother – Frigga – had delivered to him in his cell had been ancient spell books from her personal library covering the topics of trances, creation of dreams, and most importantly, inducing and manipulating the allfather's Odinsleep.
Maybe she hadn't been his true mother, but she had been a true teacher.
Maybe he hadn't been the favored son, but he had been her favorite pupil.
And teachers always wanted their favorite pupils to succeed.
He left the rowdy prisoners behind as he strode toward his old cell. It was untouched, the broken furniture from his rage still strewn on the floor, because he had ordered it untouched. The stack of books he had come to retrieve were carefully tucked in the corner where he had left them.
Because the cell was empty, the transparent wall of the cell was open. Loki stood in front of it, the place where he'd been sent to rot.
Abandoned to die.
On a cold rock in a frozen wasteland.
Freedom is life's great lie.
Only liars knew the truth. And Frigga had taught him lies.
The books still smelled like her.
He reached over and picked one up. He hadn't touched them after she – after they'd told him. He had already memorized the spell.
Freedom had been her last gift to him. But freedom was a lie, because he was a slave to the guilt.
Loki smiled through the pain, because no one in the universe could see his face, and gathered the other books.
A scrap of paper slipped loose and fluttered to the floor.
When he picked it up, the words he read were penned in Frigga's elegant hand.
There's always a reason, there's always a way.
_()()()()()()_
Disclaimer – I do not own Loki. If I did I would be... busy with him instead of writing fanfiction.
This might continue into something with more chapters. I was literally lying on my bed thinking about how Loki couldn't have killed Odin and this came to me. However, if you look at my profile you will know that my track record with finishing stories that I start is not the best. Thanks for reading!