Son, she said, have I got a little story for you
What you thought was your daddy was nothin' but a...
Some opportunities were not to be wasted lightly. Loki understood human nature better after his many monitored visits and opportunities to observe. His enemies were close at hand, mere floors above him in this very palace, and these humans, unlike the Æsir, had very particular weaknesses he meant to exploit.
The Æsir were taught from infancy of the two pathways open to them, and encouraged toward the hero's path. As a prince, Loki had undergone very particular training intended to groom a heroic warrior for his people to look up to and admire. Regardless of how the lessons failed, they were still absorbed. Loki could never hold himself with anything other than all the poise and grace of a rightful prince of Asgard.
Humans, in comparison, were given options. They were an emotionally complex species and even their great leaders were held in suspicion of what they might do if pushed too far. Humans suffered a delicate balance between their innate cruelty and kindness, always straddling the line of compassionate disinterest and emotional investment. It was easy for them to categorize a large-scale problem, turning it into easy-to-comprehend numbers and dismissing the issue from their collective minds until a news report or other media movement made them care for a few moments of their precious days.
In contrast, once they met and understood an individual, there was no stopping human loyalty, no denying their belief in that person's ability to change should the need arise. Their entire justice system was built around the concept of rehabilitation rather than strict imprisonment, and humans devoured stories of antiheroes on the path to redemption after their dark past finally caught up with their compassion and made them regret past actions.
The trickster was certainly not above emotional manipulation. He fed on the confusion and hurt this could cause. He had enough time to wedge himself into his enemies' minds, fool them into believing he was anything other than a rabid dog to be put down at the earliest opportunity. Perhaps he should not have played his game with the assassin, who would now be twice as suspicious of any of his actions - but it was such fun to watch those pretty eyes widen, those lips part and those nostrils flare. It was the highest entertainment to see in her eyes that she knew, she knew that if he were free of whatever cage she watched him from, he would kill her as easily as he would her namesake, crushed under his boot as a nuisance smudge.
He smiled.
"My wife said to me, when she held you the first time, 'death surrounds him.'"
Loki was pacing before his pedestal, agitated, and turned to face his visitor. The All-Father stood with Gungnir and watched his younger son pace. Odin looked sad and weary, full of mourning. Who did he mourn for?
"She asked of me the same question you asked, so many years later, when you discovered your true origins."
Frigga, mother, the kindest person in his life – to see her face scowling at him, to hear her words cut and sting, why did you save this? Loki scowled and drew back as though stung, the maternal sanctuary crumbling under Odin's truths. Loki would remember this: the truth was often worse than a lie.
"She did not debate when I brought her the changeling child I found exposed. She listened when I explained how I found him, and how I meant to raise him. She accepted my reasons why. A lasting, true peace between Asgard and Jötunheimr, forged in the alliance of one enemy taking in the young of another."
Odin stepped to the line and regarded his younger son. Loki listened quietly, unsure of what he was expected to say in response. Odin continued; this was a history for Loki's ears, not an attempt to draw response.
"She listened, though she knew it a distant hope. How could the abandoned Jötun lead to such aspirations? He'd been exposed by the king himself, and Jötuns are not kind to their deformed. What would Laufey have done, to see his disowned son at the right hand of the All-Father?"
Loki envisioned it now. Himself at Odin's side, a preened pet under the control of Laufey's greatest enemy. Stolen, just as the Casket of Ancient Winters – and docile, raised as a son. No. Laufey would never accept such an alliance. He was more likely to explode into a rage and decimate all who stood in his path, to have his own shame so forced into the open. The malformed babe he cast aside years before, alive and well and now the All-Father's son.
Loki thought he might have simply beat Laufey to the slaughter, by killing him first.
"Then why," he broke, and his throat clenched around the words. That wrenching, breaking pain in his voice – that would never do. He waited a moment to gather himself. How was it that it was Odin, always Odin, who could rend his heart in two with so few words as his weapon?
"Why did you keep me, the useless Jötun runt? Did it amuse you to raise Laufey's castoff?"
Odin turned to look at the sparse walls around them and seemed to ignore the question. "Thor was always more like your mother, though he took my countenance. Sometimes foolish, but always with good intent. He throws himself into conflicts without regard for his safety." The All-Father smiled slightly. "You have never seen your mother fight. You would understand better, I think, if you had."
Now Odin faced him again. The sadness returned and he spoke with gentle certainty. "I think you know, now, the feeling of alone. Truly, unbearably alone. You must have felt it when you hurtled through the void, must have known it, to throw yourself into alliance with the Chitauri's master."
Loki jerked, and Odin nodded. He did not verbally affirm his knowledge; there was no need.
"I am from an older, darker time. A time before lightness, and kindness. A time before hope. I love my wife and son. Would die for them, as you well know." Odin stepped within the circle and Loki drew back, uncertain of his role in the All-Father's mind's play. "Yet never have I felt connection with them so much as I felt that day, on the outskirts of Laufey's doomed temples, as I felt when I held you."
Loki felt as though Odin were unraveling him. His hands grasped behind him and he found his pedestal; he leaned back against it and stared, wide-eyed and wide-mouthed, as Odin beat him with the truth.
"A kinship," the All-Father said, and Loki flinched away when the All-Father's hand rose to press against his cheek. "As deep and pure as a cool pond. I looked down upon your monster's visage and saw myself staring back, as once I must have been upon another."
And then Odin was gone again, back outside the circle. Loki panted and his fingers twitched, trying to weave the mental strands back together.
"I had to show caution with you. If you were where I felt that cord, that link – then you did not reflect my better traits." Odin shook his head and laughed, a quiet chuckle. "It was not my favor I kept from you, Loki." Odin watched him for signs of being pushed too far. They were too numerous to count. "It was my influence."
This is why you told me your politics, the trickster thought, and he felt nauseous. It was the easier truth to bear. This is why you collapsed when I confronted you. I am the monster you fear, for I am your reflection.
"It is both my pride, and my curse, to know that despite all my efforts – you still became your father's mirror."
And there was no father he could turn to who would make that statement endurable. The god of lies sucked in a sharp breath, and his eyes glistened brightly with unshed tears. Why would Odin reveal this now? Why?
"You wonder why I tell you this now." Loki nodded, unable to speak. He feared he would crumble if he so much as uttered a word. "It is because I know, as your mother does not, that you cannot be changed.
"Your sentence was farce. I had thought you might be influenced when you saw them as humans, rather than pawns or subjects. I thought you might even feel a little for them. But you are a destroyer, as ever your fathers were, and now you have known the flavor of fear inspired by your very nature. I know, too well, the lure of that power." Odin shook his head. "I know too well the cost."
Loki raised one hand to his own throat and squeezed, as though he wanted to choke the life from himself. He could feel words, so many of them, building up within his throat, and not a single one could be released past the misery clouding his vision.
"I think you know why I am here, Loki." Odin's sorrow was great, as he mourned for the son and the monster and the connection he would sacrifice. "I think you know why I have brought Gungnir, and why I have come alone."
"I can change," Loki burst out, and almost clapped his hands over his mouth to silence his beggar's tongue. His desire, his will to survive, kept his hands away. "I will adapt if you give me chance, Father, I will –"
"No, Loki." Odin's eye was hard as slate, the sadness gone under the weight of a necessary action taken to protect the realm, all the realms, and Loki felt that same desire to die welling within him as it had the last time those very words were uttered. The only words in the entire universe, it seemed, that could make the consummate survivor want nothing more than to cease existing.
Odin raised the staff and Loki stared at the point, glowing with Odin's dark power. "The only way to change you would be to unmake you."
"You must give me chance!" Odin paused, and Loki realized his opening: that connection which Odin both craved and feared. "You have evolved, haven't you? Will I not receive the same opportunity?"
"It is customary," Odin said, "for a son to surpass his father's achievements." Gungnir shone in Odin's eye, reflected in Loki's. The younger god's fear was palpable, and Odin did not revel in his victory over his son's pride. He looked upon the grown man and saw only a babe's trusting eyes. Loki could not plead, even when he saw his death waiting for him, glowing in the wings and waiting for its chance. Odin lowered Gungnir slightly, and his heart broke to see his son's fearful eyes following the staff's point.
"You would plead for your life, Loki Odinson?"
That restored the fearful man to a prince of Asgard. His face tightened and he met Odin's eye with new resolve.
"Your brother managed in but three days."
Three days. Loki grasped at the straws of himself and found them scattered across a vast field of disarray. It would take three centuries to gather the strands into a cohesive, single rope.
"But," Odin continued, "he was never so stubborn as you." Gungnir's light dimmed; Odin channeled his power back into himself, and nodded. He beat the end of Gungnir against the floor three times: a pronouncement from the King of Asgard, though Loki was the only witness.
"You have earned three weeks reprieve from your sentence, Loki Odinson." Odin's blue eye burned with gloom. He felt no hope in this decision, but his son, his youngest, his reflection, had asked for a chance.
"You will submit yourself to the mortals for judgment."
Here was an unanticipated condition, and Loki bared his teeth and hissed. Odin was stacking the deck against him, as though the All-Father knew this a waste of time for the god of lies.
You will see, Loki thought angrily. I will show you how tame I can be, even when the bridle chafes my lips.
"At the end of this time, if not one of Thor's mortal friends will speak for you, if not one will attest to your changed nature - your life is forfeit. In the name of my father, and his father before."
Three more bangs of the staff against the floor to end the declaration. The two men stared across at each other.
"Good luck, my son."
Odin turned to leave, and Loki grimaced behind him. The All-Father's heavy steps echoed his departure. Loki imagined Thor's humans, all of them, and thought only the women who had not witnessed his attempt on Earth might be susceptible. Unfortunately, two were doted upon by overprotective beaus. Which left…
Loki reached for his magic, still coursing through him - if restrained - and found the tether. He tugged slightly and felt resistance at the other end. He didn't smile, worried that the All-Father might have Heimdall monitoring his actions for the plot he surely knew the trickster would concoct.
He tugged again, and felt more resistance. He rested against his stone tablet and crossed his arms, impudent and brooding as he ought to be, while his mind wove clever tricks and lies he might use to convince Thor, the Avengers, and anyone else that he was a changed man deserving of life. He tapped into a strand of his magic and drew it outward, away from his hands and toward the tether instead. He latched onto that invisible chain and began slowly, gently threading his magic within. The bindings on his wrists remained still; his magic was only restrained, never bound entirely.
He knew better than to mention his remaining abilities to his captors. They would bind him more surely if they knew he could funnel even this fraction of his power into the nonphysical ether.
He unraveled that strand further and further, and the tether he used as an anchor twitched.
Far away, in a quiet quarters watched over by Bruce Banner, Lynn's left hand twitched.
Loki smiled.
Yes, he thought. It was time to go.