As I await the judgment of the All-Father, muzzled, bound, and defeated, I can't help but feel a sense of accomplishment. The Chitauri invasion had failed, the man I once called my father is about to sentence me to untold torments (Asguardian justice has never been kind), and He-Who-Courts-Death will most certainly come for my life before long.

So why do I feel accomplished? The most likely explanation is that I am insane. Surely only a madman could justify such actions as I have committed? Sending the Destroyer to kill-

Kill? Stall.

- my brother and friends-

His friends, not mine. Never mine.

- trying to rip apart the whole of Jotunhiem with the Bifrost-

Our enemy. All's fair in love and war... and was this not both?

- and leading a hostile alien army to an innocent realm-

Innocent? They had the Tesseract. Tried to use it to make weapons. How innocent, really?

Yes, insanity is the most likely answer.

It is the most likely, but, alas, it is false.

Insanity is to do the same thing over and over again and expect different results. By that definition, I am more sane than I ever was during the years upon years upon years of clawing for attention, repeating the same steps-

Make father proud, make father proud, make father proud.

- to no avail. That was when I was insane.

No, I'm not crazy, (though I'd be lying (which I happen to be very good at) if I said my mental state has been "stable" as of late,) I'm something infinitely worse. I'm selfish.

I am horribly, irreparably, unbelievably selfish. And I didn't care at all that those mortals had to die so I could get what I wanted.

Who cared for me? Why should I care for them?

And did I get what I wanted? Considering my current position of sitting in a jail cell, unable even to speak, with my b- with Thor staring at me as though I might at any moment spontaneously burst into flames or- more likely- just disappear should he look away, the most likely answer would be "no."

And again, it is the most likely, yet false.

They tell me a monument has been erected in memory of those killed in the Chitauri attack. Some 200 dead by the end of it-

Why attack the civilians? Not part of our deal. No control. Didn't care. Too much anger to care. Too much selfishness.

- 200 lives, countless families broken, countless friends and relatives left with anger and sadness in their hearts... It shall stand eternally in remembrance of them. It's ironic that I should feel guilt for their deaths now. Who would believe me if I said so? I am the Boy Who Cried Wolf.

And I wonder what happened to my selfishness? My hate? My anger? My pain? All diminished, though still stronger than they should be. And I wonder why I wanted to rule Midgard in the first place? King of the Ants would hardly be an accomplishment grand enough to prove myself to Odin. Why did I think ruling anyone at all would somehow fix the mess I've made of my life?

Of course, the Chitauri. Masters of manipulation.

Most assuredly, I would love to re-direct all of the blame to them- damnable creatures that they are- but it was not so. They only amplified that which was already there, pointed it in the right direction for their purposes, gave it a weapon, and set it free. The rest was me. And the guilt, that none would believe I possess, eats away at me.

Guilt only for the lives lost and the relationships ruined in my attempts -

You told me you mourned. And they call me the God of Lies...

- not for my attempts themselves. Because what would I be without them? Unwanted by my true father for my size-

Too small to matter. An outcast among monsters.

- unwanted by Odin, unless useful as a bargaining chip-

You claimed to love me!

- unwanted by the whole of Asgard for the threat of my silver words-

Always silenced. You fear my words, for they can destroy more thoroughly than hammer blows or sword strokes.

- unwanted by Sif for not being Thor-

I know you love Thor. Because while you were looking at him, I was looking at you.

Always unwanted.

Frigga wanted you...

What could an unwanted, overshadowed, second son do with his life? Grow up unrecognized, unappreciated, live out his unbearably long life smiling like it's all fucking perfect when it's killing him inside, and then die and fade away from memory quicker than the lightning fades from the sky?

Anything would be better than that.

Somewhere in New York, a monument stands. Some 200 names carved on its surface.

It stands eternally in remembrance of them- those lost in the Chitauri Invasion.

But it also stands in silent testament to an untold truth. The truth that Loki of Asgard, not-son of Odin, not-brother of Thor, silver-tongued God of Mischief- traitorous, disgraceful, selfish, monstrous wretch that he was...

When people look upon this monument, they remember... he lived.

I lived.

Because the worst thing in the world isn't to die.

It's to be forgotten.

I lived.

THE END

Oh, God. Now I've depressed myself.

Well, I'm obsessed with Loki right now. There's such a depth of character to him, that writing him becomes challenging and, at the same time, fun. In both Thor and the Avengers, I get the feeling that he's fighting with himself a lo, so, I tried to emphasize that with the italic text- especially when he contradicts himself.

I've had this thought for a bit, about Loki being afraid of being forgotten. I think everybody has that in them a little bit. Like, what will I leave behind when I'm gone? How will I be remembered, if at all? (Now I wanna listen to Leave Out All the Rest by Linkin Park. Lol.)

So, yeah. Just working on my writing skills. One of the few ideas I have in my head that could actually be a one-shot, (I have a thing about not posting my stories until they're done, which explains why I have so few! ) though I'm working on another Loki one, that I make no guarantees about. It's really rant-y right now, and I don't know how to fix it. (That's right, even more rant-y than this! =O)

I hope you enjoy it, and please leave a review! =)