" You have been summoned to trial for your crimes."
Loki lifts his gaze from the foot of the throne to the old man's eyes with a devilish sneer on his thin lips. Loki can focus little at his present situation, his mind swimming with a relentless ebb and flow of raging fury.
"Not only against Asgard, but also against Midgard, which cost thousands of innocent lives. How do you plea, my son."
If only he could free himself of his bonds, he'd scream of Amora's plot. He'd tell the truth. But these chains are both physical and metaphysical. The chains of who he really is. Who would the public believe? The lie smith?
Noble on-lookers draped in their kingly robes lean to each other and whisper, yet nothing escaped the prince's ears.
"Traitor,"
"Villain,"
"Frost giant,"
Loki cocks his head to the side, his eyes screwed to slits. Like snakes, his chains coil around his body, ever clinking at clattering at his movement. He leans forward with a twitch in his lip.
"I am not," he says slowly, with poisonous annunciation, "and never was I ever your son." A woman, with rolling blonde locks at Odin's side, amongst the Order of Valkyries, smiles wryly. Loki chew on the inside of his cheek as he glares up at her. If only his wrists weren't bound behind his back he'd choke the life from her.
The old man doesn't seem taken aback by Loki's rebuff, only managing a slight grin on his tired, wrinkled mouth. He wouldn't reach him with humanity, and certainly wouldn't appeal to his previous honorable tittles or loyalties to Asagard. Spite was the only game piece he had left against Loki. Odin had done this twice before, and was pleased with the results. The first was his solitary confinement the first time Loki was returned to Asgard. Odin had known the trickster since infancy, and thus knew that all Loki craved was the attention of others. It only made sense, Odin realized. Loki constantly vied for attention against Thor for Odin's approval, and found little acceptance from his reluctant companions. And when Loki showcased his magic, from which he had learned from Frigga to gain popularity, his companions only grew jealous and turned away. This was his childhood, adolescence, and now his adulthood. So Loki's confinement brought Odin a small sense of satisfaction, knowing that Loki would shrivel like a weed nudged just out of the sun's rays. The second was, consequently, after Friga's death. Odin was no fool. He knew that his wife had more affection for the frost giant than her own son.
Because of her affection, Loki escaped many punishments, and became spoiled. This, of course, according to the bitter old man. Frigga had been Loki's only remaining companion, when all others had left his side, when he had fallen from Odin's graces, and when he was dubbed 'traitor of the realms'. Frigga was the only one with whom Loki would never have to fight for attention. So Odin, with a broken heart, found Spite rolling in his pocket, whispering to him bitterly. This he would use to break Loki. He told the guards, "Tell him the Qu-, no, tell him: his mother has been murdered," Odin had finally snipped Loki's 'silver tongue' with this mockery, this final insult. And oh, how Odin loved to watch it tear at Loki, watch Loki's mind being fall apart as Odin's had. So Odin continues, feeling a vengeful pull in his chest.
Odin feels a sweet voice in the back of his head, informing him on what to say:
What have you to say in your defense?
And so the Allfather mimics saying:
"What have you to say in your defense?"
Odin's lip twitches with a sneer, leaning forward to hear better what the fool would have to say. Yet, the fallen prince says nothing, except the volumes his hatred written on his face and quivering through every bone in his body. The two hold their vile gazes, neither yielding to the other. A red cloak falls upon the throne, a knelt figure.
"Father, please," Thor's thunderous voice booms and the whole hall gasps at his intrusion into a supreme tribunal. Odin reels away from his son's begging hands, as if repulsed by the utter idea of mercy for Loki.
The sweet voice in Odin's mind beings:
If he has naught to say-
"If he has naught to say then let him suffer at his own hand," Odin spits, not looking at his son, but at the prisoner before him.
The voice speaks: Loki, I sentence you-
"Loki, I sentence you to death," Odin says slowly, watching if he, with his old eyes, could see a twitch on Loki's foul mouth. Loki's eyes go the Valkyrie, his face twisted in confusion. Thor speaks out, his voice pained and rasping.
"Father no!" Thor takes Odin's hands and brings it to his chin as if in prayer, "How many times have I commit crime against the realms? Even my most inexcusable crime resulted in my exile, not death," Thor begs in earnest, his face slick with a sheen of sweat. "Please reconsider," he adds.
Odin keeps his glare to Loki, whose gaze has faltered and finally fallen upon the golden tiled floor. Thor continues with a shaking voice,
"He may not be your son, father, but Loki is my brother," He finishes with a tone of finality. The audience seems to sigh all at once in a heart-stricken pang of guilt. Loki's head shoots to his brother. How could he still find it in his heart to have mercy on Loki, one who had betrayed him numerous times?
Odin, seeing Loki once again gain power over him through Thor's unyielding devotion, rips his hand from Thor.
"Speak not for the criminal!"
"Father, I beg you." Thor's eyes are streaming, yet Odin does not waver, "For Frigga's sake!"
Odin finds his old heart stutter in his chest with a feeling of being ripped like frail parchment.
"Do not kill her son!" Thor adds and the parchment rips again. Odin feels his eyes sting.
"You dare…" his haggard voice rasps, a thick knot growing in his throat. Thor speaks more strongly, seeing his father falter.
"Yes, I dare defend Loki's life, because it is what Mother would have done, because I too still find it in my heart to love him even after his numerous betrayals," Thor speaks with an eloquence that even makes Loki's brow furrow in thought. The audience bites their tongues, seeing their beloved prince defend his 'brother' with such heartfelt vigor. They look, with misting eyes, to Odin.
"Mercy," some say. "Mercy, good king, oh All Father, mercy!"
Odin feels a renewed spark in his heart.
"Father," Thor's voice comes hoarse from his lips.
Odin rips his head to his son, whose speech spoiled what joy he would have gained from Loki's demise.
"I will decide his fate." Odin then looks to the prisoner before him, whose eyes have turned a sallow, sickly green. Loki glares at the Valkyrie. This is exactly what she has planned. "Loki, son of Laufey," he says, as if to remind the audience and Thor of the monster Loki was, yet Thor glares at his father with nebulous blue eyes. "I sentence you to silence. Your lips will be sewn shut, and you will be held bellow until I say further," he looks to Thor once more, whose eyes have misted over, "And if he chooses naught, the sentence is death by beheading. And his traitorous head will be displayed in the Hall of Relics,"
Just another stolen relic…
"Father, no-"
"I accept." Loki voice sounds over Thor's pleas. The hall falls silent as the prisoner speaks, his soft purr of a voice capturing the audience's attention. Thor stands and nods, biting his lips. A crack of thunder sounds overhead, making Loki shudder. The clouds outside the halls stained-glass windows turn a deep steel gray, a gale rolling in the distance. Thor's stormy eyes fall on Loki's.
"Loki, please, let me speak with Father," He speaks but Odin speaks over him, an upbeat in his tired voice.
"What last words shall you utter, Loki Laufison?" He asks, sitting back in his throne and crossing his ankles before him in a relaxed pose. Loki's gaze flicks around the audience, each pair of eyes he meets turning away. This makes him smile, seeing their own shame reflected in their eyes. On lookers could judge as they will, but nothing would sway Loki's confidence. The blonde Valkyrie at Odin's side, a pack of other warrior women behind her, steps forward and adjusts her helmet under her arm with a sweet smile on her red lips. Loki knew it was her voice, that lay hidden under Odin's. This is how she has gained her power. This is how she plans to take down the thrown.
"I want Thor to do it," his cool voice says slowly. The audience gasps.
"Nay! Good prince deny him!" Some cry out, throwing their arms over their faces, women falling to their knees with agony for their beloved prince's task, their jewelry tinkling like crystal stars around their necks and wrists.
Loki reminds himself that mortals were not the only ones that worshipped Thor as a god.
"Loki…" Thor clenches his fists, closing his eyes slowly.
"What brother," Loki's voice spits, "Aren't you strong enough?" Thunder booms above the hall in a great violent growl. Some in the audience squeal with panic. Thor stands paralyzed, his and Loki's gazes frozen in each other's as the guards prepare to aid Thor in carrying out the sentence. Loki is forced to kneel, the chains around him screeching as if in foreboding torture as the guards attach them to links in the hall's stone floor. He wouldn't be able to move an inch. A guard beholds a stone tablet to Thor, upon it a golden needle and a cord of leather. Thor strains his neck to look at it, a grimace on his face.
"You recognize the leather?" Odin asks knowingly. Thor glares at the thread.
"It is from Mjornir's handle." Thor answers, folding the thick leather in his fingers.
"Yes," Odin answers with a sneer, "And you know it's enchantment," Thor turns to Odin with wide eyes. "If he is found worthy of speech, the sentence is fulfilled."
Worthy of speech?, Thor's mind turns with numb feet to the tablet, taking up the 'thread' and needle. The needle looked rounded, not sharpened, at the tip. It was not warm, nor sanitized. It would be a dull threading, and painful beyond what Thor's mind could comprehend. His footsteps echo in a silent hall, the audience hushed, Odin watching with a sickening glee, and Loki awaiting his sentence having spoken his peace. The only other sound is growling thunder, growing more fervid and anguished with each step towards he stops before Loki's knelt form, he can almost see a small shudder wrack the prisoner's body. Though, it was one only Thor would notice. It was the same shudder he saw when Odin spoke down to him when they were children, it was a shamed gesture. He would not reveal this knowledge to Loki. Thor folds the leather strip in his hands, rolling the needle between his fingers with an aching in his gut.
"Brother." he starts but Loki flicks stern eyes to him, as if to try and slice him where he stood.
"Speak not another word," his voice cuts, "Please," Loki adds, his eyes softened. Please, Thor thinks to himself, his last spoken words will be 'Please'.
Loki then closes his mouth, relaxing his lips, preparing himself for his sentence. Thor threads the needle with shaking fingertips and cups Loki's jaw with one hand, the needle in the other. It was the first time he had actually touched his brother in many months. Thor remembers when his touch meant comfort to Loki, when he would hold Loki when he was inconsolable after the teasing and torments, when a slap on the back was all Thor would need to crack a smile on Loki's stony face. Loki flinches at Thor's hand, closing his eyes tightly with a stuttered inhale as if he remembers too. He holds the needle's dull tip at the corner of Loki's lips. He would have to make good work of it, or his Father would surely make him re do it, and that would only cause more pain to Loki. Thor cringes at the thought.
Thor watches, as if a voyeur to the situation as his hands work at their own accord, withdrawing himself. The needle presses against Loki's ivory skin. The needle almost 'pops' slightly as it clears the layer of skin and muscle. It was much thicker than Thor had expected it to be, like sewing layers canvas. Loki's eyes go wide, and his mouth hangs agape, unable to utter a cry, at first. When Thor pulls the needle through his upper lip, he sees Loki's throat quaver, preparing a scream. Loki would want to accept his sentence while keeping what dignity he had left, he would not want to appear weak before the court. Knowing this, Thor slams Loki's jaw shut, effectively silencing his cries into muffled screams. When he begins to thread the needle through the bottom lip, and Thor notices the slick, warm blood coating his fingertips, a few female audience members closest to the scene fall faint while others avert their eyes. The blood dries and makes Thor's pinched fingers around the needle glue together as he threads Loki's lips shut. The needlework is close and neat, so there would be no question as to his workmanship by Odin. Each time the needle passes through the skin with a sickening rip of flesh, Loki's eyes flutter back into his skull with a dull groan and cry. It takes Thor an eternity to reach the center of Loki's mouth. He wants to stop, to give Loki time to adjust and maybe spit out the blood pooling in his mouth from the un-sewn side of his lips but prolonging this would only mean more pain. So he continues, each time the needle passing through skin, another violent roll of thunder, and crack of lighting flashing outside the hall. Loki's tears stream down his face, staining his cheeks and seeping into the fresh wounds around his mouth, the tears singe him like hot coals.
Odin watches as his son makes quick work of the task, each time Loki's mulled cries reaches his ears, a spike of sick joy chills up his spine. When Thor reaches the opposite corner of Loki's mouth, his task nearly complete, Loki has stopped shaking and crying out from between sewn lips, the pain perhaps, hopefully, somewhat bearable now. When Thor finishes, he synchs the knot, Loki only managing a weak groan now. His body slumps against his chains, a thick metallic clanking as he does. The audience, and Thor, are left mute. Thor doesn't move his hands, fearing he'll realize their coated in a thick layer of Loki's blood. The needle 'pings' to the floor in the silent hall. Blood had once been a sign of victory, now Thor can't recall a time where he had felt more ashamed or disgusted by the sight of blood.
Loki doesn't put up his usual fight when the guards rouse him from the ground and drag his limp body away, to solitary confinement in the darkened dungeons. The audience, their show over, exits, leaving only Thor, the King's guard, and the King himself.
"Leave us." Odin waves to his guard. The blonde woman nods to her women warriors behind her and they exit, the rest of the royal guard following. Thor follows them with his stormy eyes, lighting cracking overhead.
"Father, you have become cruel, hard-hearted. I will never forgive you for this cruelty. This is not how you raised me," Thor says with tears running down his cheeks. He turns, his hands the same crimson as his cape, and it sickens him. Thor exits without another word. Thunder rolling violently above the hall.
Odin sits alone in his great hall with nothing but the sweet, cool, voice at the back of his skull to comfort him. The voice speaks again, and Odin All-father listens, and mimics its instruction. He calls for the warrior, leader of the Order of Valkyries. The honey, blonde woman, with sea-weed green eyes approaches the throne and looks at her king with a soft smile.
"Yes my king," her serpent voice rings. The same soft voice speaks in the king's mind: Jane Foster-
"Jane Foster, Ally of Midgard, has made my son weak and unwilling to do his duty to his King." Odin speaks, although they are not his own words.
"What shall you have me do my king?" The woman asks, a light smile touching her sweet mouth. Odin All-father awaits the voice to give him instruction.
