Asgard
As the guardian of the Bifrost for several millennia, Heimdall is a difficult man to fool. He can read the space around him as surely as one reads a scroll. Attuned to the changes in the air, the beating heart of Asgard beneath his feet and the twinkling beauty of the dark, boundless skies stretching before him, he is often as revered for his powers as the Allfather himself.
His only failure, the passage of the Frost Giants into their realm, is a mark of great shame to him. Of course, he is well aware the war mongering race had little to do with their veiled entrance in Asgard. Now wiser to the depths of the younger prince's conniving ways, Heimdall's far reaching gaze goes to Loki often, imprisoned as he is. Golden pupils widen as the guardian watches. His prince's aura is different now, suppressed within the rune-laden boundaries of the dungeon, but still Heimdall can almost taste the air vibrating with Loki's restrained malice, as though his essence was a living entity biding its time for freedom.
A beat later, Heimdall is focused again on the heavens before him. As if overseeing ten trillion souls of the nine realms was not a great enough task, the guardian resigns himself to guard more diligently than he ever has before, if only for the danger withheld here on his own world. Asgard is weak, is the whisper on a thousand tongues throughout the realms. Dishonor, war, and death follow the house of Odin…
Come if you dare and see how weak she is, he silently challenges, eyes narrowed and jaw set.
And then, as if in answer to his unspoken promise, Heimdall senses another presence nearby.
He frowns. "I cannot see you," he growls, "but I know you're there." He hears a chuckle in the air, and then before him, in a shimmer of gold, Loki materializes in full armor. The projection is incredibly lifelike, down to the defiant smirk on the prince's face. Its angular planes are further highlighted by the sharp cut of his golden helmet. The horns seem like a deadly twin extension of the regal spear held at his side, a mockery of Gungnir carried by Odin.
Virtually nothing intimidates the ancient protector of the Bifrost, and yet the prince's slow, stalking movements make Heimdall grip his sword's hilt a fraction tighter. Loki notices, and his smirk deepens into something altogether more vicious.
"Does it wound you to know that I found your blind spot?"
Without missing a beat, Heimdall retorts, "A good sentry does not only trust his eyes."
Loki grins, stopping a pace away from Heimdall. His spear lowers with a reverberating clang. The guardian's golden stare watches him with a wariness intermixed with strands of residual, (almost parental), pride. Heimdall does not need to be well versed in sorcery to know the level of skill needed for such a convincing illusion is…exceptional. And such a waste.
He had watched over the brothers as rowdy children, indulged their adventurous whims as young men, and even partook in the occasional minor subterfuge to help them avoid Odin's ire. He saw the best and the worst traits in both princes. This shade of the Loki standing before him now barely resembles the perceptive, capable boy of his long memory.
"Will you tell Odin his cage is insufficient?" Loki asks.
"No, as that would be a lie."
"Really?" Loki moves again, walking a circle around Heimdall. His forest green cape trails from broad shoulders.
Heimdall stares straight ahead, refusing the bait. "Even now, you are imprisoned."
The corner of Loki's mouth quirks upwards. "This is a better view."
Heimdall almost smiles at the hint of the prince's old charm, but the moment passes all too quickly, and ambiguity sweeps over Loki once more.
"I am here to warn you," he says, stopping.
Curiosity piqued, the guardian waits for him to continue. Loki looks out into the boundless starlit heavens.
"Watch carefully," he says, his gaze darting back to the guardian.
Heimdall's eyes narrow, the baser part of him indignant at being commanded by a prisoner (and an illusion, at that).
"Asgard is safe," he replies firmly. From you, he wants to add. He trusts the Allfather's power to keep Loki at bay.
"I'm not referring to Asgard." The taunt is there, certainly, but Loki's facade bears none of the arrogance evident in his voice. While the depths of his cunning stare implies he knows much more than he'll ever admit to, Heimdall believes, if even for a moment, that the warning is genuine.
Before he can question Loki further, the bridge vibrates under their feet. Heimdall does not need to turn to know that Odin's Royal Guard is charging toward them on horseback. Loki's projection must have been spotted.
Loki glares at them and smiles, all teeth. "They ride to protect Asgard's guardian," he says, amused.
"I do not need it."
Loki leans forward a fraction, his voice lowering. "Do I not strike fear in you?"
Heimdall glares at him. "I fear nothing from a deposed prince rotting in a dudgeon. Trickery is a poor illusion for strength."
Loki's handsome face contorts with rage. His projection whirls and strikes Heimdall's sword with his spear. Sparks fly upon contact, and then he vanishes, leaving the guardian alone once more on the edge of the bridge. Heimdall looks down at the golden sword still in his firm grasp, a flash of alarm spreading over his accustomed stoic expression. Impossibly, the sword is dented.
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As his consciousness is thrown back into his body, Loki collapses to the floor of his prison cell. The guards can't see through his "lesser" semi-permanent illusions (in which he appears polished and reading), but in reality, Loki is on his hands and knees, haggard and ashen. Blood drips from his nose and hits the smooth floor of his prison cell. He presses a hand up to it to stifle the flow. The boundaries of Odin's cage were never meant to be breached, physically or otherwise, and Loki knows with every effort, he slips further into a place from which he will never recover.
Satisfied that the bleeding has stopped, he falls back and leans against the back wall, his breathing still ragged. He needs to rest, but with sleep comes the terrible, haunting images he would sooner forget. And so, eyes at half mast, he compels himself to wait. It shouldn't be long now.
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A/N If you're reading, please leave a comment. Thank you!
