Chapter 1: Broken Crown

Loki sat there, hand under his chin, awaiting his punishment for what they called "betrayal." That he was a measly traitor of Asgard. He just couldn't see what wrong he had caused. From the eyes of the accused it was a different story. Loki thought, no… knew that he should have taken his anger out at his brother and Father, why? It was because they fed him the lies, the lies that they taught him to hate, to know why he was treated differently, why he would never be fit to become king of the great Asgard. Loki soon hated now that the stories they told him, were really all about himelf and what a vile creature he was…

As he waits, he sits and the bed/seat in his square jail cell. He got the worse end of the stick here. Loki's cell was at the farthest end of the prison chambers and rarely got any visitors, even the guards that supply him with nourishment and means to go outside for a little while. He was dying of not just lack of food and water, but of sheer boredom. Every attempt he made to move from his corner he then soon abandoned that idea and stayed put. That was until this day, he knew not why, but he felt he needed to get up and move, though since from the lack of moving and using his muscles, he ungracefully fell to the floor. "Fuck!" He screamed, he then looked up from his position on the ground to snap his head to look back at his bed and groaned.

Loki maneuvered his hands and knees to get himself back over to his solid rock hard bed. Loki heaved himself up by his forearms with all his might, then he was finally able to get himself upon the top of the bed. After exerting himself tad bit, he laid himself down with his arm folded underneath his head to replace the pillow the guards "forgot" to give him. Yeah... Forgot is the word they used.

Just as Loki started to drift off away into oblivion, he was abruptly woken from his slumber. Holding his face still with rough vice like grip were the hands of a guard who slammed on the very same muzzle he wore before on then some tight chain to remain around his boney wrists and neck. He was shoved and dragged out into the shiny golden halls that represent the Throne Room of the Great. Stupid. Untrustworthy. Father... Odin.

Loki shielded his eyes from the brightness, seeing how his prison was shabby and had poor lighting. Nay, no lighting at all. The way it was in his jail was like it seemed like this was the sun was thrown straight at his face.

He glared at everyone and everything moving with a deadly gleam shining brighter than before. Man, if looks could kill, more than half of Asgard would be dead by now. "Loki Odinson,"

Loki turned his head away from Odin and scoffed at the thought of him still calling him his son. Why would he still be a son? After what he did? "After the recent attempted genocide to Jotunheim and almost accomplishment to trying to take over Midgard, with the help from the Mad Titan and his army." Odin stood up from his throne and raised up Gungir from he hit the butt of the staff onto the ground and pointed the tip at Loki, "I here by, Odin All-Father, strip you of your powers, and to live life as a mortal until I deem fit and worthy to come back home." His eyes widened in shock as to what he was being told, Loki shook his head, no. This couldn't be happening, NO! He wished, no desperately yearns for that so he could speak up and tell him the real reason he did try to take over Midgard, for it was not a pleasant story to tell.

The power of Gungir hit Loki at an impeccable speed, at that rate he wasn't able to move out of the way. The pain shot through his body as it drew out his magic, the young Prince was soon to be powerless, little buds of tears formed in his eyes at the immense pain shooting through his spindly body. Loki's knees gave out in utter shock and hunched himself over looking to his hands. He didn't know how to live without his magic. He ever so slightly looked up at the man towering over him. What? When did he get this close to him? The longer the bigger man stood over him in his weakend state the more he realized that he now doesn't have the power to make the wrong move here. He kept quiet and tears streamed down his face as Odin bent down to him and gripped his jaw and squeezing it tightly making Loki wince in more pain. "My Son, you have done this to yourself and no matter what you say, or make yourself believe you hate me." Loki squished his eyes shut; no he couldn't listen to these lies from this man any longer.

"I will give you the same thing I gave your brother," Odin brought Loki up to his feet and handed him off to a guard. "To give you a redemption, if you do, you will one day have your powers back." He told him to bring the boy to the Bifrost. "Though, for today this is how you to live, feel the same pains that you have inflicted upon the mortals and Jotuns by killing millions of their kind."

Frigga looked away, she just couldn't bare to see this sight anymore. After a long time of begging and pleding Odin not to hurt him too much, this was his plan? She couldn't bear losing her little boy again.

A moment later it was all hazy and he couldn't make out the trip across Asgard. Once they reached the Bifrost site, they took off his muzzle and chains and placed them aside. The bags under his eyes were deep and prominent as if they grew after that process of power reduction. Loki was barely vertical when Heimdall placed the key into the sword slot. It powered up and since he wasn't expecting the jolt of power to start so soon he went down head first. On his way down, the swirls of colors and the pressure from the Bifrost caused Loki too much stress and made him loose consciousness. The normal way to land from the travel is to land on your feet, and as well, to be a god to not feel that sensation like it was squeezing you inside out. Loki, he had landed head first cracking open his skull. His blood seeped into the ground causing his body to be much weaker than it was before. He laid on the ground of New Mexico the very site that his brother once occupied himself. The one that he wished would never come back to. His wound now fresh, he was bleeding uncontrollably. Is this really how he wanted to live… wait… what exactly is going on?

Where was he?...

… Even more important question…

Who was he?...