A/N: I haven't really kept up with the Marvel Fandom for a long time. I've watched the films but I haven't really been in the place to contribute to the fandom itself. So, after one of the toughest semesters of my life (I'm now a University student) and Thor: Ragnarok, I re-watched a bunch of the films and ended up with this
Yes, I know panic attacks don't usually have corporeal audio-visual hallucinations, but guilt can cause such things
There were very few who used Loki's birth title now that he was confined to a cell. He was simply referred to as "The prisoner" making it mildly entertaining for him when the guards began to speak in third person. "The prisoner will extend his hands for his bonds."
Then there were those who named him cruelly. Snake. Trickster. Beast. Why not address the animal as an animal when you have him bound in chains?
The allowance of his birth title was almost a gift, and a courtesy given from certain guards which he could always respect. Several guards learned to recognize as a quid pro quo kind of deal, treat the prisoner with more respect than the king, and earn an easy guarding experience on his watch. Loki could still easily perform magical sleight of hand within his cell, could still turn your wine to reptile or amphibian if you drank while standing too close.
Those who treated him with respect were those who never had to complain about his behavior. He read books, sketched, wrote, studied, one guard had even heard "Good sir, may I ask for a second opinion?" And was read a poem about a mother's love so moving it nearly reduced him to tears.
The man seemed to play fair, he treated others as he was treated, he was violent to those who showed him negativity and passive, possibly even kind to those who treated him with respect. A servant who flippantly delivered food or decided to be more comfortable than they had earned would have their wits scared from them, while those who did their duty and did not cross any of his silent boundaries might even earn a quick smile for their efforts, however fake it may or may not be.
The task of delivering the news was no easy feat. It was decided best to simply deliver the news and leave, neither the King nor elder Prince could face the truth enough to deliver it upon another. Perhaps they did not find him worthy of the news, one could speculate, but the order was given, and a man volunteered.
Aidunn had been respectful of the former king, in all honesty he had looked up to the man before his supposed death. He would never have admitted the fascination he had held for the mystic arts as a child as Loki did, he felt that bravery was to be respected. He was also the only guard who knew that the Prince would be expecting his mother for another visit, since he was the one she made sure was on duty when she did so.
They had been close. Too close for the king to keep him locked up during the funeral as was happening now. A crueler punishment than death was not allowing a son to see his mother in her final moments of existence.
As he walked down the steps to the dungeon, Aidunn wondered if Loki could have felt his mother's death through some sort of magical connection.
His question was answered when he saw Loki sitting in his chair and reading, not with the concentration of his usual self, but with a hardened confusion mixed with a daze, as though he had felt something he could not identify.
The man was still put together so nicely in his prison. His tunic always marvelously pressed, skin cleaned, hair combed, though not always washed as his brother's was and eyes as sharps as the daggers he'd been known for.
"Prince Loki," The godling took a moment to actually realize his presence, slightly blinking out of his trance to slowly turn his head in acknowledgement. "Sir, the queen's funeral is underway." There was no risk of familiarity. He had to be as distant from the matter as possible for both of their sakes.
Loki said nothing, simply closing his eyes as he nodded in dismissal, which gave Aidunn the leave he needed to escape.
Halfway up the stairs, he heard a crash ring out in what had become an almost empty dungeon.
Loki was mourning.
Aidunn had become almost a friend in his time within the cells, which added to the pain when he was given the news so bluntly. He had felt her die, a sudden emptiness followed by a sharp urge of static as something slowly emptied in his heart. He had assumed, because of the static, that the feeling had to do with Thor, perhaps the old harecop had finally met his match with the berserker who had so piqued his interest.
In all honesty the Berserker's weariness about him had been both flattering and amusing to him, as he gave the instructions to venture into Odin's study chamber (Or the throne room depending on his next choice of direction). But there was no doubt in his mind that his mother had been slaughtered by the beast he had sent.
It was his fault.
He stood and clenched his fists, sending furniture flying and his bowl of fruit crashing to the ground.
He heard the dungeon vault door shut and seal. If he had been lucid enough to think he would have silently thanked Aidunn for the chance to mourn alone. Instead, he picked up the hassock with his book and threw it to the floor, shattering one of the legs and throwing it into the pile of books in the corner.
He picked up the table next and threw it at the boundaries of his cell with a blood curdling scream, and listened as the magic sizzled and swayed but kept him confined.
Kept him from protecting her.
Kept him from protecting her from the monster he had sent.
He honestly was a beast. He stormed across the room and grabbed his washing station by the legs throwing it into the magic boundary again which just sizzled and spat it back at him, the water in the bowl turning to steam, adding to the humidity in the room.
"It's your fault." He turned to face his brother standing furiously beside him in his cell, looking identical to the day they left earth. "You sent the monster that killed my mother."
My mother.
Loki snarled and backed into his vanity table, grabbing whatever he could find to fling at his adoptive brother "SHE WAS MY MOTHER TOO, YOU STUPID- GREEDY-" He was flinging pens and wads of paper that floated to the ground, ink bottles that stained his hands and shattered on the walls. Nothing seemed to hit him.
"You denounced her as your mother, and so you have no right to her." Thor was suddenly right beside him. "You murdered my mother, son of Laufey. There is blood on your hands of a woman who had only ever shown you kindness."
Loki had never been the strong one out of the two, but he grabbed the table itself and swung it at the blonde. The table splintered apart on the floor, but his brother remained unscathed. "I HADN'T MEANT IT- HE KNEW I HADN'T MEANT IT-" He screamed, his voice breaking into sobs as he stumbled to grab the man and hit him.
His punch seemed to fall right through and Thor sneered as Loki fell and struggled to get back up. "You vain, cruel child. You claim to have loved her but all you did was USE her."
"NO!" He shouted and dove for him again, this time hitting the wall. Thor's voice followed him as he clawed at the white wall, inky hands leaving smudges of shadow on the wall.
"You never loved her. If you had, you would have found a way to save her."
He clawed at the wall, sobbing, unable to get enough breath to form the whimpered words he was trying to form. "I would have saved her… I would have saved her…" After a moment or two of whimpered panting, he clawed at his own throat, unable to breathe.
His entire body was shaking, tears streaking down his face, fire burning in his chest that was slowly eating him up.
He began to rip off his layers, the leather, the vest, the tunic til nothing but his under sleeves and trousers remained. He grabbed at the collar of his undershirt and tore down to allow him to breathe, but it did nothing to assist him. His slippers had slid off as he fell, leaving his feet bare as he curled his body up tightly.
He could still remember centuries worth of nights where she found him like this. Curled up in a corner or beneath his bed, once even in her wardrobe, because he was hurting. Thor had shunned him in favor of his friends, or his tutor had sent him off out of anger of failure, or his stomach hurt.
He still remembered telling her he was afraid of the thunder.
"Loki?" Frigga called, searching through her son's bedchambers. The brothers had finally been separated into their own rooms at 12 and 8 Earth years old, Thor finally learning to harness the power of the storms that so frequently rolled across the mountains and into the true metropolis of Asgard.
The sun had set an hour prior, but her youngest son could not be found for supper, and so the queen crawled on her hands and knees to look beneath furniture and into cupboards to find her youngest.
When she could not find him, she resorted to asking a servant who had apparently seen him rushing to her chambers a while past. She quietly thanked the woman and bid her good evening before quietly walking into the room to find her wardrobe open just slightly.
A crack of thunder made the door slam shut with the muffled sobs of a child inside.
Frigga smiled softly and walked towards it, knocking thrice. "Loki?"
"G-Go 'way!" Came the small sob, causing her heart to break slightly.
"Rökkr, it is your mother," She murmured and managed to open the door just slightly.
Out of the crack shot her youngest son, her Loki, wrapped in her dresses and draped in her fur, sobbing his emerald eyes to nothing. "Mama! Mama, it's going to get me, it wants my blood-!"
She caught the lad with an "Oomph!" and chuckled, carrying the shivering boy to her bed and seating him in front of her. "What are you frightened of, my son?" The sudden boom of thunder from the balcony sent the prince rocketing into her arms, answering her question wordlessly. "You fear the thunder?"
Loki whimpered and nodded "It's stupid-"
"Sh sh sh, darling, a fear is never to be disregarded. It must simply be conquered."
"But.. but how?"
Frigga smiled knowingly "Imagine the largest, most fearsome hound you can imagine. It snaps its jaws and barks fiercely at you-" She felt the black-haired boy shrink in her arms. "Then, take away his teeth."
"His teeth?"
"Yes, Loki. The most frightening things about a hound is the bark and the fangs. But, without fangs, the beast cannot hurt you, for a bark is simply sound, yes?"
The boy seemed to think on this a moment before he nodded.
"So, a storm is a hound without teeth. It flashes its eyes and its barks shake mountains, but it cannot bite."
"It will not harm me?" His eyes were dry of tears, but he looked up at her with a crystalline innocence.
"No, my son. It will never hurt you."
He took in a deep breath and a new fear crossed his eyes. "But, what if I get struck by lightning!?"
"Rökkr, what is your brother's name?"
He paused to look up at her as if she had lost her mind. "Thor?"
"Thats right. Which comes from 'Tor' which means?"
"Thunder!"
"That's right! My smart shadow," She nuzzled him gently. "Now, thunder is just the sound that lightning makes, yes?"
"Mhm?"
"Well, if your brother is the thunder, do you not think he would protect you from the lightning?"
Green eyes slowly widened and looked up at her, as if having an epiphany, and whispered "Thor's gonna protect me?" She could see the hero worship developing in his eyes and chuckled.
"As your older brother, he has promised to protect you for as long as you both shall live." She buried her nose in his hair and kissed his scalp, and was pleased that he did not jump the next time the thunder clapped beside them, only hugging her back swathed in her silks.
The door slammed open to find Thor grinning with the intensity of a boy who had found out they were eating sweets for supper. "Loki, Loki, Loki, Loki!" He grinned from the door "Look what I can do!" He brought his hands together over his head in a mighty clap and the thunder outside followed with an echoing clap of harsher intensity.
Loki wiped his eyes and scrambled out of his mother's arms eagerly "I wanna try, I wanna try!" and they both scampered down the hall together laughing.
Loki's hands were fisted in his hair, his body wracking in sobs. "Forgive me mother. I have failed you yet again."
The door to the vault slid open and he inhaled to steady himself. He used what little energy he had left to create the illusion of sanity.
His recompense strode through the door in the door in the form of the Odinson moments later.