Chapter 11:
Thor watches his brother across from him, sat silently along the other side of the kitchen dining table.
It's one used most usually by the palace's cooking staff, on their breaks between serving the royal family and visiting nobles. A plane, unfinished wooden construction, glaringly humble and meager in the face of the palace's usual, golden and shining splendor.
It strikes Thor ill, how bizarrely normal Loki looks, sitting at it.
Almost like it's where he belongs…
The younger god is dressed plainly, nothing more adorning his thin frame than a simple, roughly sewn wool tunic and thick leather breeches. His feet are bare and his hair is trimmed close to the scalp. He looks like a slave, and Thor feels suddenly sick, adorned as he is in his fine silks and metals and leathers.
They'd taken all of Loki's possessions when his status had been, for the second time, torn from him.
That they have to eat here at all only drives the illness in Thor deeper, further still when he admits it is only, truly, Loki who has to eat here, no longer allowed in the dining hall. Thor only joins him because he will not leave Loki alone if he can help it. He would not leave his brother here to dine by himself.
Though Loki hardly eats, and Thor's mouth sets in a deep, worried frown as he glances down at his brother's plate, the simple foods allowed to him, a small loaf of bread, some boiled meats and patatoes, hardly touched at all.
Loki picks absently at the loaf of bread, his long, thin fingers tearing little pieces off and balling them, dropping them unnoticed on the plate before picking off another.
It has been this way for weeks now, and Thor notes with heavy concern that Loki is even thinner than before. He almost looks as if he's wasting away, his clothes hanging off of him in draping swaths of fabric. His breeches stay up only by virtue of a belt, synched painfully tight about his tiny waist, and his cheeks and eyes are sunken in an increasingly thin and gaunt face, the lines of his cheekbones too sharp.
And Loki has barely looked at Thor this evening, the Thunder god realizes. Hardly said a single word.
It's like looking at a shell of the man he once knew, and it terrifies Thor in a way he hadn't ever thought possible.
He'd been so sure things were improving, after that day in Mother's garden, a few weeks back, but things had only gotten worse, it seemed, Loki withdrawing more and more. And the boldness of Asgard's citizens in their open contempt and disdain towards him had Thor worried perhaps most of all.
He had begun to fear for Loki's life, horrible nightmares plaguing his own sleep of not being there to protect Loki, some angry god coming to murder his little brother in the night.
Thor had begun to insist Loki sleep in the same chambers as him, close by at all times, and Loki had complied without protest or question.
He had seemed neither pleased nor displeased by the arrangement, and that too had Thor uncertain.
It was as though there was no passion left in his brother.
Loki, who Thor had always thought the most passionate person he'd ever known, whether for better or for worse. Loki had never lacked in interest or enthusiasm or feeling.
Thor doesn't know what to think now.
It is like his brother is wilting.
Like he's dying…
"Is there something the matter with the food, brother?" Thor finally asks, unable to stand watching Loki like this, seeing him so painfully thin now, even frail looking. "Would you like me to get you something else to eat?"
Loki doesn't reply, his eyes fixed and unfocused on his plate, continuing to pick at the bread.
"Loki?" Thor calls, more firmly, worrying churning in his gut.
And finally the younger god's head snaps up, eyes wide and, for an instant, lost. He stares back at Thor uncomprehending a moment, blinking as though trying to clear away a thick web from his vision.
"I'm sorry…" he says, slowly, unsure, and it sounds so wrong coming from him. "did you say something Thor?"
Thor feels his hands tighten to fists, tension heavy in his muscles.
"I asked if the food was to your liking." He answers carefully. "If not, I can find you something else."
A moment longer passes, Loki still with an expression of bemusement across his fine features, until, at last, he slowly shakes his head, eyes falling back to the nearly untouched meal.
"No?" He answers, almost a question. He shakes his head again. "No, it… it's fine. The food is fine."
He looks back up to Thor, smiling weakly.
"Thank you." He says.
Thor doesn't feel any better.
"You've hardly touched your food Loki." He points out, and again Loki's gaze drops away, and he shrugs halfheartedly.
"You've hardly eaten at all these last few weeks." The Thunderer presses. "Loki, what's wrong? Won't you tell me?"
Loki seems almost to wither in his seat then. His hands cease in their fidgeting of the bread, and his arms come up around himself, his face turning away. Again, he shrugs.
"Loki…"
"I don't…" he starts, then stops, voice reedy and thin, and Thor feels his worry solidifying in his chest. He leans forward, reaching across the table, his hand hovering near to Loki's shoulder.
"Brother," he says softly. "you can tell me."
Loki blinks, and he leans farther back in his seat, arms still about his torso.
"I don't feel well." He finally admits, voice hardly above a whisper.
Thor feels a sharp lance of concern.
"What's wrong?" He asks bluntly. "Are you ill?"
Loki hesitates again, almost like he's embarrassed.
"… My magic." He at last breathes. "I need… I don't…" he exhales shakily, and Thor can see his hands tighten about his arms. "These cuffs drain my power Thor." He at last manages. "I don't do well with my magic so depleted. It isn't… it isn't a thing outside me. I… I've explained this before. It's… it's twined with the force of my life. It's as living as I am."
And Thor knows that.
He knows.
Loki had explained it before, and… and their Mother, she had too. Once. When they had been children still, and Loki had fallen ill, as he so often did then, only that time it had been when his magic had first made itself known, and he hadn't known how to control it. Before Mother had taken him under her wing and shown him how. Loki had become sick, in an explosion of his energy. Thor recalls that day vividly, for the sheer destructive power he'd witnessed, and he remembers that being the first time he'd felt actual fear of his brother. Their room had been torn asunder, and Loki had cried viciously for his inability to control it, for not understanding what was happening to him. He'd cried and cried, and sobbed of being in so much pain. Until Mother had come and stolen him away to the healing halls, and for weeks, weeks Loki had been bedridden and in seeming agony.
Thor scarcely can recall a day that went by in that time when Loki's eyes were not thick with tears and face wet with the fall of them.
He had thought his little brother might die, he remembers. Like so many times before and after. Loki, so frail and prone to sickness, so unlike any other Aesir, Thor had thought he would die.
And Thor remembers how much he hated it. How viciously awful his own helplessness had been, unable to do anything for it, unable to stop it, no matter the strength of his arm or the skill of his battle prowess.
But it was also then Thor learned the true strength of his brother's will; that it was Loki alone who fought through and back to health, and who afterwards would use his suffering only to bolster his resolve in conquering the innate power coursing through his veins.
The Thunderer's heart aches with burning to so abruptly realize his own actions have placed him back in a position to suffer so again.
His mouth pulls into a twisted frown, and he reaches forward.
"Loki…" he begins.
But Loki shaking his head cuts him short.
"I know you cannot remove the cuffs Thor." He says, and Thor doesn't miss the way Loki's hands come down, twisting almost nervously together in his lap. "I have no more tricks brother. I speak plainly. You asked me of it, and I answered with truth."
He looks away then.
"I am sorry to have worried you with my lack of appetite. I will… I will endeavor to eat more, though I cannot give guarantee of my ability to keep it down. I am plagued as late with nausea and…"
Thor is about to protest, to tell his brother that he hadn't been about to question his sincerity, or that he believed Loki to be attempting a manipulation, but he never gets the words out of his mouth before there is a servant clearing his throat to call their attention, and both Thor and Loki stop, looking up towards the kitchen entry.
"My Lord…" the man begins, keeping his eyes fixed on the Crown Prince. Thor recognizes him, and he's sure Loki does too. He had served as a page boy to them both for many years now. "The All-Father Odin requests your presence in the throne room."
Thor's brow furrows. It is late, and he would have thought Father to have retired by now.
"Did he say what business?" He asks, and the page shakes his head.
"Nay my Lord. Only that it is an urgent matter, and your presence is requested at once."
Thor exhales, frustrated and vaguely unsettled.
He glances at Loki, who's looked away, his eyes fixed again on his untouched plate of food, hands fidgeting nervously still in his lap.
Thor doesn't wish to leave him alone, but to disobey Odin now would lead only to trouble.
He reaches out then, clasping his hand gently along his brother's shoulder, squeezing softly.
"Remain here Loki, I will be but a mome…"
"P-pardon me, my Lord…" the servant interrupts suddenly, obviously uneasy.
Thor glances to him in obvious annoyance, displeased at being spoken over while addressing his brother.
The man hesitates a long moment, and what little patience the Prince had left melts away.
"What is it then!?" He snaps. "Speak!"
"Th-the… the All-Father r-requests… requests you bring… bring the… the prisoner." The servants voice hushes to nearly a whisper at his last words, his eyes darting for the sparest moment to Loki before glancing away, and his cheeks burn suddenly red with seeming shame.
And Thor understands it.
For Loki had been his Prince once too. For countless centuries atop each other, this man had been so far beneath Loki's station, it would have been considered great insult for him to even look the younger Prince in the eye unless it were requested of him.
And now…
Now, by some horrid twist of fate, he finds himself so far above Loki's station, that he could have the once Prince ordered flogged if he so wished it.
Thor feels his stomach twist sickly at the prospect, but glancing to his younger brother, Loki gives no expression at all. Hasn't even deigned to address the man's words, or his obvious discomfort in addressing his former Prince as prisoner. Only continues to stare dispassionately at his untouched food.
It takes a moment after that for the servant's words to even sink in.
Father… their Father requests he bring Loki with him to the throne room.
A moment more, and only terrible notions of why enter the Thunderer's brain.
What possibly could the All-Father want with Loki? Why, now, would he request his presence when for weeks he has made nary even a mention of his disowned son's name?
A kind of horrible dread begins slowly to build within the pit of Thor's stomach, and again he glances towards his brother, Loki still without any outward reaction.
Thor wonders not for the first time in recent months and years when it was his little brother became so adept at hiding any kind of feeling at all from the eyes of others.
Not for the first time, does Thor wonder and then realize why he began doing so, when for so long in their youth, it was Thor who teased Loki for baring feelings, accusing him the same as if he were a fair maiden.
Until Thor could no longer tell what Loki was feeling at all, and it was then, Thor knows now, it was then, he began to lose sight of his brother.
Then he began to lose hold.
He pushes those thoughts away now though, sorrow and regret replaced quickly by a hardened and unyielding determination.
He knows not what Father wishes with Loki now, but Thor has vowed to protect his brother, and protect him he will.
And so he stands, stepping over to the younger god and taking him underneath his arms. It hurts Thor, and worries him, how thin Loki is beneath his loose fitting clothes. He feels almost skeletal, and it only prompts the by comparison massive Thunderer to handle his brother with over-cautious gentility.
"Come, Loki." He says quietly, pulling the former Prince easily to his feet. "Let us go then."
And Loki complies without protest, as he has to almost everything Thor has directed of him these last weeks. Loki's listlessness is perhaps what gnaws at the older god most.
He does not see his passionate, brilliant, alive little brother any more.
He does not know where to search for him.
/
As they approach the throne room, Loki just a step behind Thor, the sentries on either side of the great, double doors pull them wide at their appearance, and it is then the sound hits them full.
A literal cacophony of voices, raised up in a kind of chaotic roar, thrumming with energy and anger and violence.
Thor stops short at the realization of it, as does Loki, and when Thor turns back to look at his brother, he sees the first stirrings of something akin to concern on the smaller god's face for the first time in weeks.
Thor stops short at the realization of it, as does Loki, and when Thor turns back to look at his brother, he sees the first stirrings of something akin to concern on the smaller god's face for the first time in weeks.
"Thor…?" Loki asks, and immediately the Thunderer is gripped by the urge to simply take Loki and run. To grab hold of his little brother and spirit him away from here, this place he once called home. This place which now served as his prison.
Instead he swallows the fantasy down, crushing his growing apprehension with it, and reaches out, taking Loki gently by the arm, giving a gentle squeeze and offering a kind smile.
"It is alright, little brother." He promises, and he knows it already for a lie.
It tastes foul on his tongue.
Thor reaches up, cupping the side of Loki's face, thick, calloused thumb swiping delicately across his cheek. He smiles back.
"I am here Loki." He says. "I will protect you."
When Loki smiles back at him, and Norns, his eyes speak of trust, Thor nearly loses his resolve and bolts with his brother away from the noise and the place.
It is only his fear of what Odin would do should he find them that stays his escape.
"It is alright, brother." Loki tells him softly. "I know. Even if you cannot. I know."
Thor's mouth falls open to protest, to assure Loki that no, no, he will protect him, no matter what.
Only they are interrupted by a guard, coming at them, voice urgent as he tells Thor that they are to hurry. That the All-Father is impatient and the gathered crowd is growing dangerously restless.
And then they are being escorted, the two of them.
Inside the throne room is chaos.
The path is cleared to their Father's throne and dais. But on either side, lining the entire way, stands a solid wall of people, moving and pulsating and undulating with their angry, barely checked energy.
They are yelling, pressing hardly contained against the blockade of guards keeping them back from the path, and as Thor and Loki move past, Thor takes hold his little brother's arm, pulling him against him defensively, tight to his side, caring not how it is perceived.
And Loki does not push away, clinging back, even as he keeps his head held high and eyes forward, refusing to be intimidated into averting his gaze to the floor.
Thor cannot say it to him in this noise, but he wants to tell Loki he is proud of him.
More so when it becomes evident what the gathered crowd is spitting as they move past. Vile, hate filled vitriol against his little brother. Words of utter disdain and contempt, and sickening, ignorant calls for unthinkable, viciously cruel punishments.
Thor does not know how Loki remains so steady in his grip then, as he feels himself begin to shake.
"I should not have taken him here." He then thinks. All he can think. "I should not have taken him back to this place."
When they are halfway down the path to the throne, Thor sees something fly fast past his face, and an instant later, feels the vibration of impact through his hold on Loki.
Like lightening, he turns, eyes wide, stomach dropping out from under him as suddenly he imagines the worst, and is met with the sight of broken and splattered fruit across his brother's pale face, juice and seeds clinging, smeared across skin and hair.
And no sooner does Loki lift a shaking hand to wipe the fruit away, does another piece pelt him, hard, against his temple. Hard enough to make him stumble back a step, away from Thor.
And then it is like a storm, fruit being thrown from all directions on both sides, a literal wave of it, hitting both Thor and Loki in near equal measure, and Thor pushes his brother underneath his chest in a vain attempt to protect him, trying to shield him with his body as he hunches over him, pushing them both forward.
"Jotun scum!" Someone cries out. "Why doesn't it show its true face!?"
Rage boils up in Thor.
He straightens up, arm still held in a near death grip round Loki as he turns his face towards the direction of the voice, expression twisted in fury.
" You dare!?" He bellows, and outside, the sound of thunder and wind kicks up violently, rumbling ominously, seeming to shake the very foundations of the palace. "It is your Prince you speak thusly to!" He rages onward.
The response from the gathered throng is only further jeers and winged barbs, more fruit thrown, aimed at Loki, still pressed defensively to Thor's side, pushed under his chest.
And then, abruptly, there comes a shattering boom, the deafening command of Gungnir striking the floor, and like a thick blanket, the entire throng falls into a still hush, movement and sound ceasing entirely.
"Enough!" Odin's voice rings out, reaching all corners of the room without being truly raised.
Thor's eyes lift to his Father then, both grateful relief and stirring anxiety battling for control of his features at the sight of the All-Father.
Odin looks angry, face drawn in harsh, unhappy lines. He is stood from his throne, his single, blue eye staring out and moving across the gathered people, accessing and disappointed.
At his side, Loki is entirely still, and in the sudden quiet of the place, Thor notices for the first time, General Tyr and the Lady Sif standing at the foot of the dais.
Sif's features are drawn tight in tension it seems, her posture stiff and unyielding and guarded. But Tyr's expression is one bordering on almost amusement, and Thor feels his hackles raise at the sight, as he sees the General's eyes fixed on Loki, lips pulling up in a subtle smirk.
Thor pulls his brother closer against his side, the dread he'd felt at Odin's summoning intensifying double-fold.
Seconds pass in oppressing silence, Thor's eyes moving back to their Father, awaiting his command with growing trepidation.
It prepares him not for when the All-Father's voice rings out, and a sickening churn works through his guts at the feel of Loki's flinch beside him.
"Thor…" Odin says, the same, purveying command in his voice without needing to raise it. And for the briefest of moments, his single eye falls upon Loki, and Thor's unease only grows at his inability to read any emotion there. "bring the prisoner forward." He finishes.
Thor feels ill.
The prisoner.
Not "my son". Not "my boy".
Thor doesn't understand how Odin can do this. How he can be so unkind.
Loki gives no further reaction beside him, even as Thor's own grip tightens, loosening a moment later when he realizes his own strength, worry spiking through him that he may accidentally hurt his brother.
The heavy silence remains still, and Thor swallows thickly as, finally, after long seconds, he forces his body into command, keeping his hold on Loki and stepping forward, until the both of them stand directly before their Father's throne.
The All-Father stares down at them expectantly, and Thor remembers himself. He leans his face, close against the side of Loki's head, whispering softly.
"We must kneel brother." He reminds, gently as he can. He fears Loki will somehow rebel against that, grow angry and resistant.
Only, then, Loki is lowering himself onto his knees without further prompt, and Thor's heart sinks. He finds himself almost wishing Loki had fought it, missing suddenly and acutely his passionate, unyielding, uncompromising younger brother.
Thor hastens to follow then, dropping to his knee beside Loki, bowing his head. He fists his right hand, holding it across his heart. From his periphery, he sees Loki makes no similar motion, sat still, his hands held flat along his knees, his head also bowed.
For an instant, Thor is panicked, thinking this is how Loki is going to spit on the All-Father's commands, only a moment later, he remembers Loki's position. Remembers Loki is no longer considered Asgard's Prince, no longer considered her citizen even. He is not allowed even to pay fealty to her King.
It seems now there is no end to the reminders of what Thor has condemned his little brother to by bringing him back here.
"You may rise." Odin allows.
Thor begins to, reaching to take hold of Loki and coax him to follow.
"You may rise, Thor." Odin's hard voice stops him. And his gaze falls then to Loki. "Not him."
Thor sits frozen a moment, staring up at his Father in dismay. With his eyes he pleads, beseeching his Odin not to do this. Not to humiliate Loki further.
But Odin's face is a mask of impassivity, unmoving and uncaring. He gives nothing, and Thor feels his dismay turning quickly, abruptly to anger.
It is with difficulty he reins it in, his expression hardening to displeased lines as stiffly, he stands, hands clenched to fists at his side.
Loki remains on his knees, face still turned to the floor, and Thor viciously suppresses the desire to reach down and hoist him up to his feet.
Glancing aside, he spots Sif, seeing her eyes fixed on his brother, her expression plainly unhappy, and that, in all of this, at least gives Thor a marginal sense that not everyone in this room is against Loki. It is the smallest of consolations, but he holds fast to it nonetheless.
Sif has ever held a fondness for Loki, he knows. Though Loki himself has never seemed aware of it. Thor supposes because, for the difference in their ages, she and Loki never spent the greatest deal of time around one another, never had much chance to be companions. Loki being a good bit younger than any of them, it was only when Thor brought him along on quests they ever were really together, and Loki was very much the tag along then.
But Sif, out of all Thor's friends, had used to at least take the time to talk with Loki, even when Fandral, Hogun and Volstagg hadn't been at all inclined. Loki had just been too young for them, and they hadn't the patience to deal with a child. Thor only recently has begun to understand how deeply that affected his brother. His sensitive little brother, who already at such a young age believed himself an undesirable.
But Sif had used to sit and talk with him, when she could. And Loki had been shy then. He'd never said much back. Only Thor had been able to see the utter excitement and disbelieving joy in his brother, the way he would smile softly to himself while looking away from Sif, and listen with rapt, unwavering attention to everything the warrior maiden had to say. The way he would slowly, gradually move to sit closer beside her as the minutes wore on.
Thor remembers Sif talking to him about Loki many times. She'd adored him then. Going on endlessly about what a sweet, intelligent little boy he was, reminding Thor every chance she had of how lucky he was to have him as a brother.
"Though you must take care with him Thor." He can hear her words now. "He is of fragile heart, and I fear for what may come of him."
Thor blinks, coming out of the memory, and he wonders suddenly how it was Sif had seen what he somehow could not. Wonders why it is he did not listen better to her.
His eyes shift then, to Tyr, and the assurance he'd gained in Sif's presence fast vanishes at the sight of unmistakable cruelty and gleeful anticipation in the older god's gaze, fixed ominously on Loki, like a wolf might look upon the lamb.
Tyr, who in opposite stance to Sif, has never held any fondness at all for the once second Prince.
He had always been unnecessarily hard on Loki in training sessions, Thor remembers. Expecting out of him the same and more as the other boys who were always so much bigger and stronger than his little brother.
He can remember times watching from the sidelines, tense and deeply discomfited as Tyr would for what seemed the hundredth time knock Loki to the hard packed dirt of the training arena, leaving his brother winded and bleeding and struggling to breathe, and all the while, the General would be screaming in his face for him to get up, screaming at him that his Father wouldn't protect him here, that his Brother wouldn't, his Mother.
And every time, Loki would somehow find the will to rise, even as his legs threatened to buckle beneath him in exhausted weakness, and Tyr would only again knock him ruthlessly to the ground.
Thor can still recall the agony of having to stand back, unable to step in, as Tyr would fell Loki by bringing the butt of his practice weapon brutally against the younger Prince's temple, or ramming the hilt like a pole against his solar plexus, stealing his strength and air away.
It had been that Thor would try and justify the treatment, even as he struggled to keep himself from jumping into the arena and throwing himself before his brother to save him from the next blow. After all, he'd thought to himself then, did not Tyr treat him and all his friends exactly the same? Was he not as uncompromising and brutal in his lessons?
The answer, of course, had been yes, and that had been enough to stay Thor's interception.
Only… Loki had been younger, so much younger than the rest of them. And he had never been physically quite so strong. His assets had never lain in brute force, as Thor's and the others had. He had been better tailored towards defensive fighting, combat based on swiftness and evasion and grace. Where he lacked physical power, he made up for in speed.
But Tyr had refused to tailor his lessons to Loki's strengths, instead expecting and forcing the second Prince to fight the way the others did, and making him pay when he could not.
It had been cruel, and somewhere in the back of his mind, Thor had always known that.
And at once, Thor realizes what this is about. All of this. The incident those few weeks prior, Tyr's harassment of Loki, Sif's intervention…
Before he can think, he's opening his mouth and pleading with Asgard's King.
"Father, please." He starts, unconsciously taking a step up onto the dais. "Whatever you have been told…"
"Silence!' Odin snaps, voice cutting like a dagger through the air. At his periphery, Thor sees Loki flinch violently at the sound, and he finds himself stepping back, away from the throne, his mouth sealing shut.
Odin glares hard at him a long moment, and Thor finds himself astonished still at how small he can feel in his Father's presence.
And then the All-Father's gaze lifts outward, to the surrounding crowds, and he begins to speak, though his words are addressed still towards his first son.
"Thor," he begins, loudly enough for all to hear. "my son. Your prisoner, Loki, son of Laufey, stands accused of attempted bribery and assault by High General and Commander of Asgard's amry, Tyr Bjornson."
At this, the gathered crowds seem to literally explode in a wave of renewed jeers and shouts, and again, Odin is forced to bring Gungnir down upon the base of his throne to silence them.
Thor is already protesting, his deference to his Father momentarily forgotten in his horror.
"It is untrue!" The Thunderer cries desperately. "Father, Tyr speaks only lies!"
Again, the people erupt into shouts, and for a moment, Thor thinks he sees something like regret pass through his Father's single, blue eye, before it is quickly smoothed over into nothing again.
He glances briefly at Loki, who remains unmoved on his knees, head still bowed, though there is a visible tremor working through his thin frame.
Odin keeps his gaze there a moment longer, before moving it to Thor, and he continues, leaving his son's words unacknowledged.
"As sole witness against our General Tyr's claims, stands the Lady Sif, who testifies to Loki's innocence in the matter."
Another round of raucous boos, and again, Odin commands their silence.
"She instead claims the prisoner to have been unduly accosted by Tyr and a small group of his men, physically assaulted without justifiable prompt."
Thor feels a powerful surge of relief at this news, and his eyes move to Sif, trying his best to silently express to her his gratitude.
Only Sif is not looking at him, her eyes instead fixed to the floor, her hands folded tight and nervous at her front.
Thor frowns, and when he looks back to his Father, he again sees a kind of hesitant displeasure. But the sight does nothing to ease the Crown Prince's concern. There is an inevitability to Odin's expression suddenly that only intensifies Thor's desire to take Loki and go, to run far, far away from this place.
Their Father has always been their protector. He has always been their champion.
Only Odin now looks as though he can do nothing to protect either of his son's. And Thor is reminded once more of the terrible burden it is to be King.
When one must place the well being of one's Kingdom above that of their family.
Suddenly, the Crown Prince understands. Odin calls Loki Laufey's son. Odin publically distances himself from his youngest boy, disowns him and does nothing to guard him from the scorn and derision of Asgard's people. Odin is Asgard's King. He is charged with her protection. He rules the people only so that they may rule him.
And still, it does nothing to lessen the rancor Thor abruptly feels at their Father for doing this. For allowing this.
If Odin loves Loki still, Thor does not understand how he can.
Yet with his next words, he does, and Thor feels his own heart crumble.
"Is is then the people's judgment to decide who of the two speaks truth." The All-Father proclaims, his grip on Gungnir tightening visibly. He already knows who they will choose to believe. As does Thor. As does Sif, and Tyr. As does Loki. "Those in favor of General Tyr's claims, speak out." Odin commands.
And the crowds explode into a deafening uproar of condemnation.