Hello everyone :) This is my very first fanfiction, so please be gentle with me :3 Anyway, English is not my main language at all, and I have no beta reader so, if you see something strange, you can tell me.

Warning : This story is based on the Thor 2 movie, released today in France. It will contain spoilers, so read carefully. However I am not following the exact story, nor did I write the same conversations. No interest in that.

Please, tell me what you think about it :) Have a nice read.

Etheral

Prologue

-Am I going to rot in prison, while he, this mindless brute, will prosper and become king ?

-Yes. You had this coming. Now you have to face your responsabilities once and for all. No surprise, I assume.

The All Father stood gloriously, leaning on his trustworthy Gungir. No trace of love or forgivness in his so cold gaze. It was too late for that. There was nothing left in his heart for the vile creature chained before him, at the feet of his throne. This mistake he should have take care of so long ago. Only the presence of his Queen to his right, discreet but tense, prevented him to end the life of his... of this monster right there and then. So much suffering for the Realms he had claimed to protect for so long. So much pain because of the twisted mongrel's hunger of power and his own lack of seeing. He made a vague gesture with his hand.

-Take him down to the cells. So be it...

-...I... I'm not...

Before he could add something else, the two guards holding his chains clasped roughly their hands on his armoured shoulders and drag him backwards. He struggled a bit, willing to retort something smart before leaving the throne room, to prove that his so-called Father had not won this battle. But nothing came to his mind. During his journey with Thor via the Bifrost to come home after the New York incident, he had imagined all the possible ways the conversation with the All Father could have followed. Never did he think that he would be rendered speechless. Him, the Silvertongue and Wordcrafter. As he was lead through the golden palace, ignoring the questionning or contemptuous looks of the other Asgardians, he tried to keep his composure. Maybe there was still a slight chance that Thor appeared right in front of him, gave him a good punch across the face, then dismissed the guards and unlocked the chains, telling him that he should behave the next time. Or for Frigga to come, and free him, having told his husband how rude he has been with his last son.

Nothing of this happened. Once in the dungeon, beyond the heavy engraved doors, he was silently stripped of his armour, the Asgardian guards tearing the fabric apart with obvious pleasure. Loki tried to ignore their rough gesture and the way they hit every spot in his back and sides where the green Beast had... well, no need to add further shame by reliving the past. Left only in his green tunic, matching pants and his leather boots, he was then pushed through the dark corridors and finally the guards made him stumble in the last cell at the far end. When the magic walls of his cell closed around him, all he could do was stare blankly as the two warriors disappeared without a last look to their former prince. King. But he did hear them speaking about him, mocking his behaviour, calling him a disgrace to their kingdom and praying the All Father will change his mind and end his miserable life. He shrugged, a sad smile tugging at his lips. Why did he keep hoping ? Who was he trying to fool this time ? He walked towards the only solid wall of the bare room and slid against it. Sitting cross legged, he took a look to his surroundings. Must at least get fastly accustomed to the place, since he was going to spend the rest of his immortal - so far - dull life.

Various creatures occupied the other cells around him, seemingly paying him no attention. Horned demons, fire Djinns, some Frost Giants, gigantic beasts... Only monsters it seems. He chuckled darkly. He was no exception. At least, he was alone in his cell. Maybe his Father was worried that he could slaughtered coldly the poor creatures which could be in contact with him. He rubbed the raw skin under the shakles still clasped on his bony wrists. He mentally wondered about their uselfulness. His cell was probably encircled with glyphs or runes able to annihilate even the smallest of his powers. And what damage could he do with his bare hands against a magic barrier ? Granted, he had always found a solution to sneak away from the most deadly problems he could have encountered. Even with Thanos... But this time however, he couldn't use his tongue to create a comfortable exit. Nobody was here to listen.

Time passed at an excruciating slow pace.

The first days, he walks around his cell like a tiger in cage, sometimes adressing sharply to the guards to gain their attention. Not once did they turn their heads towards him, nor did they aknowledge his presence. Soon, he became restless, pacing back and forth, thinking about getting mad so he could escape once and for all in his mental palace where no one would ever deceived him. But even this exit was denied to him apparently. Oh, how he had loved to stay in a closed room for days long when he was younger, reading and practicing magic without anyone to notice or mock him. What a laughable turn of event...

Later, he sat unmoving for days, gaze unfocussed, trying to lose himself in thoughts. He didn't dare to let the sleep claim him though. No need to run towards the nightmares willingly. Every day, he refused the food that was brought to him by a blind and deaf servant, occasionnaly sipping a bit of water before hurling the glass at the wall with a snarl, causing the poor man to flee.

Time passed... And he was rotting here. First seething with anger, then slipping into loneliness. before finally sinking in fear...