Author's Note: Thank you so so so much to Anayellow, bekahleck, CayDancer, Kayla, DKLL, pestiilence, and SirOlives for reviewing! I was thrilled to see that so many people were kind enough to take the time to review :) I hope you all like this chapter.

CHAPTER X

Isolation: Part I

. . .

Loki addressed his new troops with an air of confidence he'd had his entire life to rehearse and perfect. They stood motionlessly in Asgard's throne room, out of place, like stolen figurines. Meanwhile, their allied king – in full ceremonial dress (helmet and all) – paced before them as if he were on a stage. Thor stood to the side, invisible but for his colossal form and royal finery. He watched his brother's performance with a conflicted mixture of admiration and circumspection; he could not help but think the bravado came too easily to him.

Both Asgardians could see that the soldiers were well trained. Clad in togas and metallic armor, their attire was exotic and alien. But the resilient stoicism that occupied all of their expressions was familiar and promising.

There was a sudden and unexpected deviation in the play. Like a rogue member of the audience, Loki's copper-haired messenger flew into view without warning, a wild look in his eye.

The untrained observer would have recognized no reaction on Loki's part – but Thor knew better. There was the slightest tremor in his hands, a barely perceptible twitch that went almost universally unnoticed. Before he could verbally eviscerate the boy – as he likely planned to do –, Hermod hissed something in his master's ear, capturing the sound in cupped hands. The only change in the king's countenance came in the form of a thin-lipped frown.

Once his urgent message had been relayed, the messenger made himself scarce. Loki was left standing tensely in his wake, a look of blank surprise etched onto his features. He readjusted the front of his costume-like leather coat. While he was suddenly quite glad that he had forgotten to punish the boy as he had vowed he would, he was equally livid and alarmed. He had made a gross miscalculation.

He lowered his gilded scepter to the ground, bracing himself against it, and turned to face his mercenary army. Thor's face adopted a look of great distress, so much so that he nearly summoned Mjolnir then and there; there were sparks flying in his brother's eyes.

"Men," Loki grit out, sounding entirely different and far more menacing than he had initially. "It seems your arrival could not have been more aptly timed." He grinned broadly, as if to disguise his lethal dismay.

The soldiers shuffled ever so slightly, sandals scraping against the marble tiles.

"My kingdom, it seems," he began, "grows restless and unruly. I have sought most ardently to manage my people with munificence and diplomacy, but I am afraid the necessity for force has become inescapable."

"Brother, what do you mean to do?" interrupted Thor, voice thick and husky with dread.

"SILENCE!" he shouted fiercely. The suddenness of his command slashed through the stillness in the room like a blade. He could hear his own heartbeat hammer in his ears against the deafening quiet that followed.

Thor flinched as though he had been physically struck.

"This realm must be taught a lesson," continued Loki, with more vigor. "You will descend upon Asgard's forces until they are utterly, totally, and completely broken in both mind and body, and then you will continue to ravage them until but one soldier remains. He shall beg for mercy, he shall cry for it, but you will not give it to him. You will then bring this surviving soldier to me and I will tear his flesh from his bones and string him up by it, displaying him in front of the whole of the kingdom where he will serve as an example. Then – and only then – will this miserable planet see peace."

"Loki!" protested Thor.

"And you will start with him!" Without looking at the prince, he beckoned his finger towards him. "Take him to the dungeons! And bring the leaders of this folly to me, so that they might be properly dealt with!"

Thor fought tooth and nail against the men, but even he and his mighty hammer were no match for 10,000 of Olympus' best trained troops, though he did succeed in taking out a good number of them. They managed to separate him from Mjolnir; it took four of them to bind his arms behind his back.

"I beg you, Loki, have a care!" he howled, complexion going red in his exertion and desperation. Even as they dragged him away, he did not relent in his effort to talk sense into his brother. "All you have done – every act of penitence, every noble deed you have committed since your imprisonment – will be for naught! You shall never be forgiven, and your reign will be remembered for the terror it caused until the end of time! Is that truly the legacy you wish to leave? Is that truly how you hope to assert your birthright? As a tyrant? Remember, brother, remember what happened the last time you sent a foreign army against an innocent people!"

"Innocent?" scoffed Loki. "Do you really mean to assert that an unfounded revolution is a blameless act? I have thus far conducted myself as a just ruler, and the people have expressed their gratitude in rebelling."

"Is it not unjust to punish the masses for the actions of but a few?"

"Certainly, and that is precisely the point – justice has failed me. I am the infected limb of Asgard that they cannot seem to sever… They will resist me until I have irreparably shattered their spirit."

"You must have patience, brother – your misdeeds are not so soon forgotten, but they will be in time."

"Enough," murmured Loki, tone deadly. "I should have known you would betray me."

Thor's golden eyebrows knitted together in genuine puzzlement. "I had nothing to do with this," he insisted.

"So Asgard's army seeks to place you on the throne all on its own accord, does it?"

He could tell instantly from the subsequent look on Thor's face that this was indeed the case and, if anything, it only made him angrier. It did, however, also make him rethink his plans. Part of what made him so formidable was his unpredictability and the changeable nature of his scheming. Victory would not be attained through a rash slaughtering of an Asgardian faction – he had to be farsighted. His rule would be more successful if he made an example of a few and allowed the others to live on under the constant, weighty fear that their lives depended on their obedience.

He did not continue to hash out this dispute with Thor in front of his new troops, as he had already said too much. Their discussion would be resumed in private.

"Find the ones responsible," he ordered. "Bring them to me. Kill anyone who stands in your way. The troops have yet to march – we will squelch this rebellion before it even begins."

At least somewhat relieved, Thor allowed himself to be carted away.

. . .

Soon enough the Olympians set out to obey his orders, and only then was Loki finally left to his own festering thoughts in the throne room. The enormous chamber was empty, so utterly empty that the sound of his own breathing echoed off the smooth walls. A guttural, unexpected shout of rage tore through his throat, a piercing cry against the blanket of silence.

He was not certain of what had actually occurred, but he had an idea. However, he would wait to fully express his wrath until he had confirmation, and confirmation would only be attained once the culprits of the revolution were brought before him to answer for their crimes.

He had been a fool to think he could ascend to the throne without incident. He had been a fool to think the culture he had been raised in could come to accept him, when it had rejected him all his life.

His mother's words, uttered what seemed to be so long ago, rang in his mind. "He kept the truth from you so you would never feel different." But he had always felt different, ages before he had learned of his jotun parentage. He was hated because he was different and different because he was hated. He was a corrupted, in-between creature – not Aesir but not quite jotun, either. He had no place in this world or in any other.

It was ironic, he reflected, that Odin had found him in a temple.

They would never tolerate his rule under peaceful circumstances; he had been uncharacteristically naïve to think they would. He was cornered, backed into this display of cruelty – they had forced his hand. There was no other way.

In no more than three hours, two of his Olympian commanding officers – Andronikos and Diokles – returned to the throne room, a bit bloodied and bruised but generally unharmed. With them they brought Sif, Fandral, Hogun, and Volstagg in chains. At the sight of them, Loki shook away flashbacks of when he had been brought back to Asgard after having invaded Midgard.

"How many casualties?" was his first inquiry, articulated with a glaring lack of emotion.

"Twenty-one, Your Highness. They were quick to surrender once they saw how outnumbered they were," answered the swarthy Diokles.

He merely raised an eyebrow, before stepping down from his throne to address Sif, who stood at the front of the line of four. She was no doubt the leader of this insubordination.

"Well, well, well, this comes as no great surprise," he snarled at her.

Chin held high, she haughtily spat, "My only regret is that we did not have sense enough to act sooner."

"It is a regret that will cost you and your friends your lives," he said offhandedly, shooting a passing glance to the Warriors Three.

"Then we shall die with honor," she replied bravely. "When your wretched reign ends – and it will end, Loki – we will be remembered as the heroes who opposed this shameful age."

He laughed malevolently in her face, causing her to shirk back in response to the abruptness of it all. "You think the people of Asgard will hear of this inconsequential obstacle? Your names will be scorched from this world and from the history books alike – you will be remembered for nothing."

At this, the brightness in her clear eyes dimmed. Loki's lips curled into a smirk, knowing he'd struck a nerve.

"It is that girl who betrayed you, who told us of your vile plan to use her as leverage in order to terrorize the people you so falsely claim to rule," she blurted out, hoping to injure him in some way. "I initially thought she was harboring some sort of affection for you, but evidently you revealed to her the blackness of your heart."

Loki would stomach this insolence no longer; with a callous wave of his hand, he ordered, "Throw them in the dungeons. Ensure that they are separate from my brother but still in sight of him."

. . .

Loki had no wish to execute his brother. Deep down, he knew that all the wrongs Thor had committed against him in their childhood and before his fateful fall from grace were unintentional. Thor was a steamroller of a man – he razed down all that was in his path without even realizing it. It was a flaw in his design, not in his character. He could not help that he was superior to his brother in nearly every way, and he did not have the intelligence to register the implications of it.

In some ways, this knowledge only made Loki feel more bitter; however, it also persuaded him to go down to the dungeons to speak with his adoptive brother. He smiled evilly at his other four criminals as he passed their transparent cell. Not long ago, he had been in the very same position – it was unbelievably satisfying to see that now their roles were reversed. Sif scowled at him, still defiant, but the Warriors Three looked worried. And rightly so, for they were living out their last hours.

Thor was sitting on his cot, looking across the hall at his friends in a mixture of sadness and disappointment. Loki easily phased an image of himself into the stark, white holding chamber.

Upon seeing him, Thor stood abruptly.

"Brother," he said in a rush. "It is Sif and the Warriors Three who orchestrated the attack against you?"

"Indeed," allowed Loki. "Evidently you are not to blame, after all." As he spoke to him, he noticed that his eyes were instead fixed on Sif. "She will have to die, you know," he added softly after a moment.

Thor snapped his gaze to Loki. "Surely that is not necessary," he protested.

"She defied her king and tried to raise an army against him," he stated matter-of-factly, "that is the highest display of treason, and so her death and the death of her cohorts are entirely necessary."

"Loki," pleaded Thor, "we grew up together – I know that even you remember this. Fandral and Volstagg and Hogun... We have been friends for as long as I can recall! Think how many battles we have fought together, how many feasts and misadventures we have shared! And Sif especially – we have watched her grow from girl to woman just as she has seen us grow from boys to men. She is like a sister to us!"

Loki smirked again. "I think she might contest you in that regard," he quipped.

"You know very well what I mean to say. They are not some common rabble-rousers – they are our friends!"

"They are your friends!" snapped Loki. "There were never mine."

A tense silence fell upon them; Thor did know that there was truth in his words. Eventually he asked, "What was it that started the uprising?"

"Persephone informed Sif of my deceit," he said darkly. "I underestimated how she would react to my rejection."

"Rejection?"

"She approached me and I rebuffed her advances," he explained simply enough. "I thought her affection for me would shield me from this sort of betrayal, but clearly I was mistaken. It is fortuitous that Olympus' army arrived when it did."

The wheels in Thor's mind churned for several long moments, before a bemused look washed over his features. "You rebuffed her because you reciprocate her sentiments?"

Loki staggered backwards, brow creased in a frown. It quickly contorted into a grin, however, to convey his amusement at the ridiculousness of the prospect. "That is an awfully large conclusion to leap to, and an spurious one at that."

"You must," insisted Thor. "Otherwise you would not have taken the risk. You spurned her because you felt the need to punish her and yourself for growing fond of her."

"You are wrong," he growled, eyes glimmering with unrealized anxiousness. Thor's analytical skills were nonexistent, he told himself; it was madness to even entertain the possibility that he could read the inner workings of his mind, let alone before he himself could. He could not help but suddenly feel once again like Thor's little brother and it enraged him.

"I do not wish to quarrel with you," he sighed. "I never have…"

Straightening himself, Loki replied, "I will release you from these bonds, for you have committed no crime against me. But do not think even for a moment that I hold anything other than indifference for that useless trollop – no, strike that – I hold great loathing for her, in light of the recent events."

"Your affairs with her are no business of mine, not now that she is free," Thor conceded, "But you build walls around yourself, brother. The people can see this – it is why they cannot bring themselves to trust you, it is why our friends cannot bring themselves to trust you. You can amend this – you can grant them pardon and prove that you are a just, merciful king."

"You speak to me once more of mercy and justice, but you do not comprehend how they elude me. Twice have I resigned myself to death, and twice has fate cruelly intervened. It mocks me, returns me to this cursed place time and time again. I have tried to let myself die, tried to do the noble thing and stop this cycle – I do not know what led 'our friends,' as you call them, to believe that they could be any more successful. Perhaps it is beyond any of our control; perhaps it is predestined that I shall bring destruction down upon Asgard. I have endeavored to be a benevolent ruler, but to what thankless end? Cornered now and faced with insurrection, I believe the time has come for me to realize my true purpose. I will never have the peoples' respect," he finished, tone clipped, "so I will settle instead for their fear." The words poured savagely from his mouth like an unstoppable flood, and he soon feared he was compromising himself. Without another sound, his form dissipated into thin air. In his wake, the walls of Thor's cell dematerialized.

Thor stepped out of his prison and strode to where Sif and the Warriors Three were being detained. He put his large hand against the glass with a sort of melancholy reverence, and gold chain-links rippled fleetingly from the point of contact. The deep sorrow in his gaze was what finally crumbled Sif's resolve. She stared at him with tears in her eyes, before placing her hand on the spot where his was. They stood like this for several seconds, before Thor turned and left.

Author's Note: I hope you all liked it! What do you think Loki should do with Sif and the Warriors Three? Was he in character? I've been reading some political theory texts and I think that might be impacting my portrayal of him lol. How about Thor? I'd love to hear your thoughts!