Perhaps it was just a coincidence. Perhaps it was just Thor and Loki would be able to convince him to not act rashly before things got out of control.
The lies weren't working.
"Where did it land?" Stark asked, getting up to his feet.
"The west wing deck, sir," Jarvis reported. "I set the mark thirty-eight to reassemble right away, but it will be four more minutes before it's ready."
Natasha – who just a heartbeat ago had been curled at Loki's side, nodding off – rubbed her eyes sleepily. "Who is it?" she asked and dragged herself up with a groan. Loki didn't know what part she had played exactly in removing the gag, but even the amazing job at healing the older injuries afterward, which he had expected to be stuck with for a while, would have been enough to drain her.
"The energy of the beam destroyed the cameras in the area, Miss Romanoff. But my sensors report at least eight people," Jarvis said.
A pang of dread pierced Loki's chest and twisted. It wasn't a friendly visit. He's got an entire delegation coming for him.
"What are they doing now, Jay?" Stark inquired, and, just as he did, there was a sound of breaking glass from upstairs. "Can't aliens just stop breaking my stuff?" He turned to Loki. "The panic room, in the basement. Go! You too, Pep!"
Miss Potts didn't argue, just ran for the elevator. Loki remained where he stood.
"Come on!" Tony urged.
"No," Loki said, clenching his fists. "I'm not going to run. You can't defend me forever."
"Tony's right," Bruce said, unbuttoning his shirt, "we've got this. You're not ready."
There were sounds of footsteps upstairs, heavy and armored.
"It doesn't matter," Loki said. "I'm not leaving."
Bruce was, of course, on point. Loki was still weakened by the procedure, had no weapon and no access to his magic. But he couldn't just flee, leaving them to fend for themselves. Not after everything they've done for him. If something happened to any of them, he would never forgive himself.
Natasha walked over and grabbed his hand. "Together then?" she asked.
"Together," he agreed. The double doors flew open.
In the entrance, surrounded by a posse of the Einherjar, stood Odin and one look at his face was enough to tell Loki how angry he was.
Natasha didn't need to ask. The man radiated enough self-confidence and royal grandiosity to leave no doubt as to who she was looking at, even if the outfit – golden armor and a winged helmet – weren't enough of a tell.
The guards moved aside and butted their spears on the ground and Odin stepped forward and Natasha suddenly knew where Loki got the inspiration for his "the land underneath my feet is not worthy to carry my weight" act.
Stark came forward and jovially spread his arms. "Royal daddy, I assume? What do I owe the pleasure?" There was enough sarcasm in the last word to supply a small village for a month.
Odin's single eye narrowed. "How dare you speak to me in this tone, mortal?"
"Well," Stark shrugged, seemingly unabashed, "you're the one to come to my home unannounced, so it's just a common courtesy to…"
"Enough!" Odin brought down his spear and the floor underneath their feet shook. Loki's fingers clamped more tightly around her hand and his face was drawn in desperate determination. "I did not come to seek a row with you or your people, Son of Stark. I came to retrieve my prisoner. Step aside and I'll let that affront slide."
A pained spasm crossed Loki's features when Odin's eye fell to him.
Stark chuckled and made a show of looking around. "I see no prisoners here. Just me and my friends. But, since you came all this way for nothing, can I offer you a cup of coffee before you go? It must be a long way back to Asgard."
"Do not think you can insult me, mortal!" Odin roared and the push of power behind the words raised the fine hair on Natasha's back and made Stark stumble half a step backwards. "Guards!"
The soldiers moved forward.
"For fuck's sake! Loki is your son!" she yelled, stepping forth, just as Stark positioned himself between Odin and Loki, awfully nonthreatening without his armor despite the wide, aggressive pose.
"I have no sons, just traitors and cowards," Odin snarled and there was something unhinged in it. "Seize him!"
The guards lunged; their spears raised for attack. Loki's resolve crumbled and he teetered back, his arms raised defensively. Stark stood his ground and got the butt of a spear jabbed into his stomach for the trouble. He fell to his knees. Another hit got him on the back, and he went down. Natasha avoided a blast and rolled away, looking for an opening and finding none. They were outnumbered and their opponents were not only armed and heavily armored, but they also had the Aesir strength at their side.
There was a gunshot. Clint must've had his gun with him, unlike her. Just like Loki, she was still wearing only the lab clothes and those didn't have many convenient places to hide a weapon. The bullets bounced off the armor, causing no damage, only an infuriated outcry from Odin.
There was a roar behind, and Odin brought his spear down again. The wave of energy shimmered in the air and left a metallic taste on her tongue. She looked just in time to see Banner collapse, the green fading from his skin.
The side door swung open, and Stark's armor flew into the room and rammed into the guard, who was holding Loki at spear point, forcing him into a corner. The man went down. His colleague seized the armor by its arm and smashed it into the ground, bending the plates, then brought his heavy boot down on the chestpiece, crashing it into a tangle of scrunched metal.
Something hit her in the back, and she lost her balance, then got pushed to the ground. She thrashed, but she couldn't twist around. She was trapped, with the hilt of a spear pressed to her spine, pinning her to the floor.
"Stop!" came Loki's voice, surprisingly clear, even if still a bit frilly at the edges. "Leave them be. I'll come with you."
The pressure on her back lessened and went away. She clambered to her feet. Stark pulled himself up on all fours, grunting audibly. Clint lowered his weapon and crouched next to Bruce's prone form, shaking his arm, with no effect.
The guards circled Loki, their spears aimed at his throat. He raised his hands in surrender, then, urged by the soldiers, walked toward the middle in the room, with careful, unsteady steps, until he found himself in front of Odin.
He tilted his head up and met Odin's gaze.
One of the guards produced a coil of chain and tossed it on the floor in front of Loki. Loki didn't even flinch when Odin waved his hands and the chain gleamed, the embedded runes shining with brilliant gold light, and started snaking up Loki's legs, wrapped around his waist and twisted up to his neck. Shackles clasped on his wrists and ankles and the chain unfurled into a thick, tall collar around Loki's throat.
And, when it was done, Loki turned to her.
"Loki," she whispered, unable to find any other words.
He smiled and brought his hands up, but before he was able to form a sign, Odin's magic shimmered in the air again and the chains pulled taut, forcing Loki's hands down and ankles closer together. His smile didn't waver, even when he closed his eyes, and a tear ran down his cheek. "I'll never forget what you did for me," he said quietly, "Thank you, Natasha. Thank you, Tony. I'm sorry, Clint. Tell Bruce…" The spear hilt got him in the side, forcing air out of his lungs and cutting his words short.
"Silence, traitor!" the guard snarled.
Loki's smile widened into a feral grin, showing the whole array of his ruined teeth, and his gaze drifted back to Odin, almost casually. "Let's get this over with," he said.
"How dare you to speak to your king in the language of mortals!?" the same guard barked and took another swing with his weapon, aiming it at Loki's stomach. Odin raised his hand, stopping the attack.
"I see my lesson remains lost to you, as always," Odin said and even without the exclamation his voice carried a dangerous edge. "It appears to be in a need a refreshment."
The air flickered around Odin's hand.
She threw herself forward, just to get stopped by a spear to her throat, Stark cursed and Loki's swank faltered. He took a step back, but the armored hands on his shoulders stopped him and held him in place. "No, please, there's no…" His words got cut short and turned into a desperate wail as a muzzle unfurled around his lower face.
"You can't! You have no idea what…" she yelled and pressed forward.
"Quiet, wench!" Odin howled and hit the butt of the spear on the floor one more time.
The words caught in her throat and her windpipe tightened as an invisible hand wrapped around her neck, muting her voice, and cutting the air off. She groped, but there was nothing to get free from.
There was a clatter of chains as Loki fought to get away and she collapsed back to her knees, desperately gasping for breath. Her head swam and her heart rattled in her chest, fueled with panic and adrenaline.
With a last-ditch effort she raised her head, just in time to see the guards drag Loki away, hissing and struggling.
She was already unconscious when the building shook with the power of the Bifrost again.
The same force that ripped their way through the fabric of the universe slammed down on Asgard's observatory, spitting them out of the stream. Loki – unable to keep his balance with the heavy chains binding his limbs – fell to his knees.
He stayed down, panting through his nose and fighting the wave of nausea rising from his stomach – from the unfamiliar feeling of food in it, from the turmoil of interstellar travel and from the sense of injustice that welled inside him alike – until the guards grabbed his arms and pulled him up. His braid came apart and hair fell to his face, but the chain that connected the shackles on his wrists to the band around his waist was too short for his hands to reach to brush it away.
The crystal surface of the Bifrost was warm under his bare feet and it thrummed with the heavy footsteps of the guards and the remnants of power. They didn't drag him along, allowing him to walk instead. And he did, with awkward, short steps. They moved away, creating a circle of free space around him, as if just being within his – now severely limited – arms' reach was a cause of shame. Loki paid it no heed, focusing on breathing and keeping his head up, less for the sake of dignity and more for the metal in his throat. It was worse, now that he was reminded how it felt to be free from it.
At least this time Odin didn't bother with the spell besides the one that held the gag in place, although Loki failed to find much consolation in that.
Another group of Einherjar approached from the city, leading Sleipnir, the royal steed.
The mortals believed the stallion to be Loki's biological offspring and – as Odin mounted and rode back towards the castle – Loki distracted himself with figuring out the exact logistics of that endeavor. It only worked for a moment.
Beyond one disappointed look, the All-Father hadn't spared Loki any more attention, leaving the guards to deal with the issue. The time of Odin's wrath would come soon enough, Loki knew, and the chastising scowls were far from the worst of it.
There was a commotion as the guards regrouped and Loki used the opportunity immediately, without much thinking. The fetters didn't let him get a good leap though and the Einherjar stopped him without much effort. They tackled him to the ground before he got even close to the edge of the bridge and the promising endless fall beyond it.
And, as shameful as it felt to admit it, he was glad he was stopped, because, somewhere around step two, he realized he did not want to die, even though the Void was better than what awaited him and – with his magic still absent – it wouldn't take more than a couple of minutes to kill him. But he wasn't going to give Odin the satisfaction. He would not solve his problems for him.
If Odin wanted him dead, he would have to do it himself.
Loki was keenly aware how the situation looked for him. The only people who would be willing to come to his aid were worlds away. And Loki was glad for that. They had already stood up for him. They had stepped up to Odin. They had been unprepared and exhausted, and they still had picked a fight they couldn't win, just to try to save him from Odin's judgment.
And now they were stuck on Earth and he was here on Asgard. He would never see them again. He would never feel Natasha's touch or witness Tony's brilliant mind at work. But they were safe and that was what mattered.
Besides, he had always known, deep down, that it couldn't end in any other way. This was always at the end of his line. All the beautiful plans and promises he made to himself were just foolish dreams.
He had never wished to be wrong as much as he did now. But his wishes rarely came true.
They led him across the bridge and through the city and the procession's pace was slow enough for the news to carry. The closer they got to the castle, the more onlookers there were, some peeking from behind drawn curtains, some turning their heads from where they went around their daily duties, some gathering on the side of the main street to stare openly. Loki couldn't blame them. It was good entertainment, after all. It wasn't every day one could witness the former prince being brought home in chains and paraded through the city like a common criminal.
He stopped, just before they reached the gate of the royal palace, and turned his face towards the sun. It was midday on Asgard, and the sky was clear, just like it always was.
The guards pushed him on. He stumbled again and fell to his knees, forcing them to drag him up and on, through the entryway. The vestibule was dark in comparison to the sun-bathed streets outside and turned even darker once the heavy gates swung closed when they passed.
There was something final to that sound.
They didn't lead him straight to the royal halls. Perhaps Odin needed some repose after the excursion of retrieving his lost captive, or he just decided that some delay would do well to break Loki's morale. Not that Loki expected anything else. Everything was a show with Odin, that was a lesson he had learned ages ago.
It wasn't the holding cells they took him to though, just a small room off to the side of the main gallery, the one where the petitioners would be waiting for an audience with the king, sometimes for long hours.
It was empty now.
The guards pushed him into a cage in the corner, locked the grate and left, abandoning Loki to seethe in indignation alone.
So, that's how it was going to be. It wasn't even a proper prison, just a cage to keep animals or valuable items that could on occasion be the objects of dispute between the royal subjects in. That was what he was to Odin now. A beast or a thing.
He couldn't decide which option he despised more.
He pushed his back to the wall and slid down to sit on the heap of straw.
At least the room had a window. It was located too high and was too narrow for Loki to see through, but it was there, and Loki suspected it wouldn't be long until he would be missing even that small comfort.
Unless, of course, Odin, in a flight of fancy, decided to be merciful and grant him a clean, quick death. Loki wouldn't put his bets on that though. No, the All-Father was furious. Loki managed to slip the clutches of his magic. He walked the ground as a free man for a couple of hours. That insubordination couldn't stand with Odin. He was angry and so Loki must suffer. This was how it always had been, and he had no reasons to suspect this time was going to be any different.
He took a long breath of the musty air and did what he did best these days – he waited.
The light seeping through the window changed to deep orange with the last rays of the setting sun before the guards returned.
Loki had fallen asleep in the meantime, curled up on the ground. Once the haze of the fight had subsided, exhaustion had crept in and he had been unable to keep his eyes open. It wasn't comfortable, but it was also far from the worst position he had ever slept in, even if the chains didn't make it easier.
"Get up," the tallest of the three guards ordered and Loki recognized his voice. Knud, son of Gunne.
Loki remained where he was.
The door of the cage swung open and Knud pushed the point of his halberd to Loki's throat, just above the collar. "Get up, I said."
We rode on hunts together, Loki thought. I dined at your table. You played flute and your mother baked a fruit pie.
"Are you deaf or just stupid?" Knud snarled and nudged him with the blade. It pierced Loki's skin, drawing a few drops of blood.
How far could Loki push the man with his obstinance? Would he kill him if Loki vexed him enough or would the prospect of Odin's wrath be enough to stop the blade at the last moment?
Knud stared, shocked by how easy he had been able to damage Loki's flesh and removed the spear. He took a swing and kicked Loki in the stomach. "Up!"
Loki swallowed the bile that rose to his throat, unfurled his limbs and dragged himself up, first to his knees, then rocked back to push his body up into a standing position. The short chain between his ankles removed all the other options from the table.
"Get out," Knud commanded and accented the order with a tug on Loki's chains. Loki took the three stuttering steps it took to walk out of cage and froze again.
"Take off your clothes," Knut said.
Loki glowered at him. Not only that he couldn't do so with the chains in place, but he also had no desire to strip in front of the guards. If they wanted him naked, they would have to force him.
"You really want to stand in front of your king in those mortal rags?"
Loki eyed the bundle of rough, grey cloth that the other guard was carrying – the standard prison garb in Asgard, meant to further demean the wearer, by design. Between the two, Stark's lab uniform was the obvious choice. He shrugged. The irony was entirely lost on Knut, it seemed.
"Well?" one of the other guards prompted. That one Loki didn't recognize. He was young and spoke in Vanir and, once Loki took a better look, the parts of his face still visible under the helmet had the lines that were characteristic to the people of Vanaheimr. New recruit, must be, yet he still held a grudge against Loki for some reason. Loki never had any qualms with the people of Vanaheimr. He never had any qualms with people of Asgard, either, but it looked like that sentiment was not reciprocated.
Now that Loki thought about it, many of the guards he encountered since his arrival were new. Asgard was never big on changes and the royal guard was rarely swapped, and Loki briefly wondered what happened during his absence to cause this influx of fresh faces.
Whatever it was, it was no longer a concern of his, he told himself.
Loki straightened his spine and shrugged again.
Odin was not his king. He might yet be his judge and his jury still and hold Loki's fate in his hands, but he was not his king. Odin was the ruler of Asgard, and Loki was not of Asgard. Not anymore.
The idea didn't unnerve him as much as it would have a few years back. Loki of Earth carried a nicer ring to it anyway.
There were hands on him, then blades, cutting and ripping the cloth away, until the chains were his only cover.
The Vanir boy tossed the clothes at him.
Loki didn't make a move to catch it and the bundle fell to the floor at his feet. He tilted his head and stared at the guards.
"What is it now?"
Observation skills were not on the strong side with this bunch. Loki raised his hands as high as the bindings allowed and rattled the chain.
Knud elbowed the Vanir boy in the ribs and the latter produced a metal medallion that Loki immediately recognized as a key. It wasn't hard to guess what it was opening.
He made a break for it the moment the boy pressed his finger to the middle of the token and the chains fell away. The collar and the shackles remained in place, but with the tethers gone he made it to the door and fumbled the lock open before the guards even caught up what was happening.
He burst out into the hall and ran down the gallery, barely avoiding ramming into a person. The scribe jumped away and the scrolls spilled on the floor as a shocked exclamation escaped his lungs.
Loki must be making quite a sight like that.
He wasn't thinking too far ahead, just far enough to plan his next move. He had walked those halls countless times before, but never had to use them as an escape route and now his mind was stumbling upon details, small passages and dark corners. But, as tempting as it felt, he couldn't just crawl into a hole and wait out the worst. Without his magic, he had no way to shield himself from Heimdall's sight and they would find him immediately. But if he found his way out of the castle and reached one of the rifts at the edge of the city the powers emanating from them could distort Heimdall's sight and buy himself some time.
He needed to leave the palace first though.
He almost made it to the stairs leading to the kitchens before a squad of guards blocked his way. He swerved around and ran in the opposite direction, but the pursuit was closing in. His eyes dashed around, but there was nowhere to run.
He raised his hands in surrender. As the Vanir boy approached to grab him, he threw a punch. The blow landed on the narrow patch of vulnerable flesh between where the neck guard ended, and the helmet began, and the boy reeled. Loki veered away, avoiding the hand reaching to seize him, and scrambled down the hallway.
He managed five more steps before the shackles activated, sending a wave of energy that fried his nerves and locked his muscles in spasms. He collapsed to the floor in an ungainly heap, his limbs twitching with the stray currents running through his flesh.
Damn, he didn't even know they could do that.
They dragged him back to the waiting room and roughly dressed him in the prisoner's rags, then locked the chains into place, with his hands twisted behind his back this time.
They stashed him into the cage and left, taking the lantern – the only source of light in the now darkened room – away.
Loki sighed and wiggled in place to find a bit more comfortable position. He might just as well start getting used to the darkness.
He expected to be kept stewing in his failure at least till the morning, but it wasn't more than an hour later when the door swung open again and a six-man group of Einherjar poured in. This was the king's private guard, as denoted by the lines of their armor and the shape of the wings on their helmets, and Loki had no doubt as to the reason they were here.
They didn't speak, just hauled him to his feet and dragged him along, out of the room and down the gallery. And again, Loki had no questions about where they were going. This route he knew by heart too. It led straight into the royal hall.
The central nave of the hall was lit with flickering torches, leaving the transepts bathed in shadows. The gold-encrusted mosaic felt smooth under his feet, compared to the rough stone floors of the corridors.
The guards led him to the dais.
"Kneel before your king, traitor," one of the men snarled into Loki's ear, rousing a new wave of anger. He might not have his titles or rights anymore, but he still had a name.
Loki blew out a derisive chuckle and remained standing until the hilt of a halberd got him across the shins, forcing him to a kneel. His knees were already bruised, and he had to swallow a hiss when they connected with the floor.
Even during Loki's previous stints in the dungeons and during all the times he butted heads with the guards they treated him with detached indifference and kept their hands to themselves, mostly. But now the status of a member of the royal family no longer existed to shield him from the open contempt.
He turned his head up.
Odin was sitting on the throne, his head propped up on his arm. Gungnir rested across his lap, held in place by his other hand. He looked like he was sleeping.
There was no one else on the dais, neither on the right, reserved for the royal wife, nor where Thor usually stood by his father's left hand. That's where Loki would have been, too, a long time ago. The lodge the Council of the Elders occupied during court proceedings was empty as well.
It wasn't going to be a trial, not even a spurious one.
Loki's eyes drifted upwards, inadvertently. On the wall, high above the throne, the royal family pennants hung, starting from the dawn of history and the blue and yellow stripes of king Gorm.
Loki's own ensign – the green cloth with golden scales, that used to adorn the far-left area of the wall – was gone, but that was not what was shocking. What was, was the fact that the one next to his – Thor's silver lighting on the red background – was missing as well, invoking Odin's words, back in Stark's tower. "No sons, just traitors." What had the fool done to earn himself Odin's wrath again?
Then Loki's gaze wandered further to the right and he forgot about the question. He blinked, but the image before his eyes didn't go away. His throat tightened and his eyes prickled, and he gasped for breath, suddenly unable to fill his lungs.
Across the blue-green pennant of Queen Frigg hung a broad, white ribbon. A symbol reserved for those who perished in a glorious battle.
Something broke inside him and the tears rolled down his cheeks and he just kneeled there, unable even to reach and wipe them away, his mind reeling with the harrowing realization. The Queen was gone. His mother was dead and with her, his last connection to Asgard had withered and died. She died in a fight and he hadn't even been there to defend her.
One of the guards cleared his throat. "Your majesty?"
Odin stirred and opened his eye and his glare fell to Loki, raving with madness, and Loki suddenly realized where that frenzy came from. With the All-Mother dead and Thor gone there was no one else to keep Odin in his right mind. There was nothing standing between the full fury of his unhinged mind and Loki.
"What are you weeping about, boy?" the All-Father jeered.
Loki straightened his spine, set his shoulders as much as the chains allowed and met Odin's gaze, but not before his eyes flickered to the banners again. It was enough for Odin to notice.
"That's right. That's what saving your sorry life cost me. I should have left you on that frozen rock to die." The pompousness faded away from Odin's tone and now he sounded just like he looked – a lonely old man, consumed by madness. And – where there had been fear and respect and the insatiate thirst for acceptance in Loki's mind before – there was only pity.
We would both be better off for that then, Loki thought and gritted his teeth on the metal.
Odin's eye narrowed. "The first thing you did when I picked you up was lie to me," he drawled on.
Loki blinked. Wasn't he just a babe when Odin took him? Was that part of the ruse too?
"You still haven't figured it out, have you?" Odin laughed a harsh and joyless laugh. "The queen was so worried about what we would tell you once you'd find out and yet the years passed, and you never did. And you still dare call yourself smart." Odin shook his head, gripped the spear, and sat up. "Even your own vile nature is a deception."
What was Odin talking about?
The All-Father's lips were pursed when he regarded Loki where he knelt with what must've been a spectacularly confused expression. "You'll have time to reflect on that."
Loki's brows furrowed.
"That's right. You're not going to get executed. Not on your behalf, but the All-Mother's. She wouldn't want you to die, even if that's all you deserve."
The sentence settled like a physical burden on Loki's shoulders and in his heart. He didn't need to hear the following words to know what was coming next. He slumped and trained his eyes on the floor.
"You will spend the rest of your life in the dungeons," Odin dished out his verdict. Loki's fingers twitched but the chains held them in place. "In silence, so you cannot poison any more innocent souls with your lies, like you did with my son," he added.
The guards moved to drag him away.
"Wait," Odin commanded and got up with a heavy sigh, using Gungnir as a cane. He stepped off the dais and down the golden stairs then stopped in front of Loki. "If you have something to say, this is your last chance, so use it wisely," he uttered and reached to undo the gag.
Loki angled away from his hand, wobbly pushed himself to his feet and took a step back. Then he turned and showed Odin the middle finger.
He wasn't sure if anyone in the room even caught the meaning, but it still gave him enough satisfaction to consider the blow across his back that followed worth it.
Loki crumpled back to his knees panting heavily, and Odin turned on his heel and returned to the throne. "Take him out of my sight," he spat, almost as an afterthought.
Perhaps Odin's sentence was what he deserved, but he didn't care. This wasn't justice. This was Odin taking his anger for his own mistakes out on him. Like always.
He made another break for it just as they left the royal hall. It was inept and doomed to fail, but he still did it. The guards subdued him quickly and kept him at the spearpoints for the rest of the way.
Loki barely registered the rest of the long road down. The chain was short and cumbersome and the tempo the guards dictated was too quick for him to keep up and soon it became hard to put one foot in front of the other, even when it was the only thing he focused on.
They went down and down, and the walls of the hallways grew closer and closer until they gave way to a narrow path, carved directly in the rock the palace stood on, both by the means of magic and by the hands of the unfortunate prisoners or slaves who found themselves punished with the menial task in the days of old.
That path, too, led consistently downward.
And, when they finally reached the end, the guard at the front swung the metal-plated, narrow door open and the one behind pushed Loki on when he stopped. He dug his heels in but, in the end, the resistance was futile, and they soon dragged him inside.
He didn't need to examine the cell; he knew it by heart. Every jagged rock on the floor, every crinkle in the walls, the musty smell of stale air and the ever-present moisture collecting in the crevices between the stones.
They pushed him further into a corner, the dancing light of the lantern bringing out unfamiliar shadows of the familiar shapes he knew only by touch. They forced him to a kneel and linked his collar to the lug in the wall, then stepped away.
They didn't release the chains and the gag stayed in place, just as Odin had promised.
"Enjoy the rest of your sorry life, traitor," one of the guards jeered as the door closed, cutting the light off and bathing Loki in darkness. He paid it no heed. The walls closed in on him, weighing him down like the entirety of the realm, far above his head, was resting on his chest, shortening his breath and thrumming in his veins.
It took him a few moments and a few dozen of deliberate, deep gasps, to get a grip of himself. Then he settled closer to the wall – the chain running to the collar was too short to allow him to lie down – and pressed his forehead to his knees.
The shackles and the gag were new, but otherwise his prison was just like it always has been. A silent, dark stretch of nothingness, with no end in sight.
But this time was different, too. This time, Loki had something he never had before.
Memories worth coming back to. And with them, like a shadow, came hope.
He held on to it this time.