Chapter 9: Old Pains
Loki P.O.V.
Loki paced around the confines of his cell – his cage. Ever since he had felt the trembling in Yggdrasil's branches heralding a momentous event, he had been on edge. Only something reality-shattering would cause something like that. And the origins had originated from Midgard, but the length of time between each quiver was from Jotunheim. Ergo, a catastrophe happened on Midgard initiated by Jotuns. The mortals would have ran to Thor for help, and Thor would have come to Asgard like a good dog, possibly leading the antagonists right to Asgard. And Asgard would want to keep its nose out of Midgard's business, and send someone replaceable to "help" the mortals. Loki knew his time was coming; it was only a matter of time.
Stopping suddenly, he slammed both palms into the golden barrier separating him from the rest of the world. The pain of singed flesh stung his nostrils and calmed his whirling thoughts. He pulled his hands back and regarded where the red and angry flesh blended into white and unmarred.
His hands were not his own; he knew that now. His true flesh was blue, his true blood was black. He was a Jotun, a Frost Giant; bane of Yggdrasil.
Curling his hands, the pain did nothing to bring him out of his pensiveness. He was born to bring ruin and death. He was raised to lie and deceive. It was his birthright to bring the end of Yggdrasil.
But he was tired.
He was tired of the lying, tired of the jealousy, tired of the anger. He was tired of the hurt, and of the never-ending cycle of running, capturing, and escaping. He was tired of being away from … them for so long. And yet, he couldn't let go of the sheer hatred that burned so brightly in his heart. It was the only thing that had sustained him over the centuries, and when he fell from the Bifrost. His nature was chaos, change, and he couldn't adapt himself to survive. It was laughable.
It was laughable at how he had bought the Allfather's lies for so long, how he had blindly accepted being inferior to Thor. He had always wondered why he was never as loved as Thor, why the Allfather never favored him with kind words or a father's pride. It was all so clear now, why his so-called friends had scorned him and mocked him for his interests and words, why the Allfather had always chosen Thor over him. How had he not noticed that he looked nothing like his supposed parents, or indeed anyone in Asgard?
But, oh, he had been enlightened on that frozen field on Jotunheim when that warrior latched onto his arm and turned it a disgusting shade of blue. It had been so clear, in a burst of shocked and gasping revelation, with his breath trembling from his lips and his world tumbling around him. He had stood in the shattered pieces of his life, so much like glass – or ice – and knew, in his heart, exactly why he had felt so different all his life. And the truth had hurt. It was no wonder why he preferred lies.
And there, in the ruins of everything familiar to him, his heart had shriveled and dried like a husk, and his mind had broken clean in two. One side was Prince Loki of Asgard, his mother's son. The other was Loki of Jotunheim, Frost Giant, abominable monster, his father's son.
When he had stood on the Bifrost, watched it send out its avenging light to destroy his birthplace, he had been satisfied to the point of gorging with the thought that now he had proven his worth, now he would be Thor's equal, now he would rid the realms of a race of creatures broken long ago. Then, in a twist of fate, when he had hung below the Bifrost, he had craved recognition. He had called for his father to accept him, and he had been rejected. His tenuous hold on his desperation and despair slipped much like his grip, and he had fallen.
Fallen past stars, and galaxies, and swirls of blackness. He had fallen past sanity, past redemption, past any loved ones left. He had slipped into the Void, and it was both mental and physical, at least for him. He fell past himself, and fallen into … that which should be left unsaid. And he had reveled in it after a while. It was all he had left.
And so his thoughts came to a circle, much like a certain snake.
Grinding the back of his hands into his eyes, he sat down on the bed and crossed his legs, leaning back on the wall, and cradling his hands in his lap. Strands of hair brushed past his eyes, and he mused that it was getting too long.
Footsteps.
His head immediately snapped up. He had memorized the guards' patterns long ago, and it was neither time to switch guards, or to bring food. And since the guards gave him his mother's gifts with meals, these footsteps were extremely irregular. And more than one, it seemed. A set of four footsteps was drawing closer.
In a burst of clarity, Loki grinned. It was the mortals, here to enlist him in their cause. How dull. He rose from his sitting position, and turned to face the wall facing the corridor, lamenting his lack of proper attire and bathing supplies. Clasping his hands behind his back, he stood straight and proud, delighting in the confrontation about to take place. Let the games begin.
The footsteps stopped just outside the cell, one pair scuffling awkwardly a half-second after the rest. Loki felt his heart beating fast and loud, and the tension coil in his limbs. It was glorious to hold all the power again.
"Loki." Thor sounded somber.
"Hello, brother." He said quietly. "I trust you and the mortals are well."
A snort sounded from behind. Agent Barton.
"Now is not a time for play, brother. We need your help." Norns, the idiot sounded like he was trying to garner pity.
"And why should I help you?" Staring at the wall was getting dull, so he turned around to face the Avengers … or what was left of them. The Man of Iron and the woman who had bested him in a game of words weren't there. But Agent Barton was, and was glaring as if it was a knife sinking in his skull.
"Because the Nine are in danger. You would not want to rule over a ruined wasteland, would you not?" Thor, the oaf, was actually using his brain for once.
Loki smiled, making sure every inch of his madness was visible in the rictus grin. "You must be truly desperate to come to me for help. What, did Odin turn you away and put me in his place? That is the very thing he would do, let me take the fall for him. I would not expect anything less from him." Every word was silk that smoothed its way from his throat and into their ears.
"Enough. You can either help us, or not. Either way, you end up right back here in this cell. But if you help us, we are authorized to give you anything short of freedom. You want a bigger cell? Fine. You want to see sunlight? Fine. Like I said, anything you want, you can have." The Captain intervened, eyes hard, and the righteousness surging.
Loki stood stock still, not betraying an iota of his reaction. Anything? A glimmer of hope flickered to life in his chest before he crushed it. It was amusing to see what they would be willing to do to gain his aid.
"Anything, Captain? I just have to return to this cell and carry out the rest of my sentence? Well, that leaves a lot of loopholes. If I want to rule Yggdrasil, I could do it from this cell. If I want your executions, I need not leave this cell. You see, that is not much of a limitation." Loki purred, stepping forward slowly until he was at the humming edge of the barrier.
"Cut the crap, Loki. Stop playing with us." Agent Barton suddenly reared up and slammed the barrier in front of him.
Loki stared at him in disdain, then continued without acknowledging his existence. "What, exactly, is the situation?"
"We were fighting a, uh, Doctor Doom, a genius magic-wielder, and he poisoned Stark. Romanoff went after Doom, and got captured. She left a note with a description of her attackers that Thor recognized as Frost Giants, as well as the poison used. Basically, one of the most dangerous men on earth teamed up with some of the most dangerous enemies of Asgard, and could maybe destroy the other eight." The doctor was the one to speak up this time, and Loki betrayed no hint of the wary trepidation that sprung up in the wake.
He smiled and laughed at the glorious electricity arcing up his spine. "I like this. All worlds in the balance, and you bargain for your friends."
"We don't bargain for our friends." The Captain now had the most endearing line between his eyebrows.
"No. You bargain my safety for baubles. What could I possibly need from you? I cannot have my freedom, so what left is there to give? Begone. You need me far more than I need you." He was testing them. He had to see how far they would be willing to go.
"We do need you, and we are desperate, so what's it gonna take, Loki? What's it gonna take to get you to help us?" The Captain sounded exasperated. Good.
Loki paused, looking at the faces of his enemies. The doctor was expressionless, carefully blank. The archer was pale and shaking with fury. The prince was downcast and longing. The soldier was frustrated and offended. He breathed in, hardly daring to hope, and smiled widely, sending tendrils of thought out across the realms and down paths he hardly ever bare to go down.
The words were said simply, although they were anything but simple. Those words would change his life, would right centuries of wrong. Those words were his only hope. All his plots and schemes had come to this, and with the rightness of coming home, he let his conditions be known.
"My children."
A spluttered "What?" broke the air that had solidified between them.
"Oh, yes, Agent Barton." He flashed the stunned agent a smirk. "You did not think that a monster like me could actually have children, but I assure you I do." He paced around the perimeter of his cell slowly, wrapped in centuries of grief. "You asked me my condition, and that is it. I wish for the freedom of my children, and the ability to visit them whenever I wish to. That is my bargain. I will help you save your lady, heal your friend, and demolish the Jotuns in any way I can. I offer you my magic, and quite possibly, my life. All I ask is that my children be free after centuries of being separated from them, and watching them scream in misery. They are innocent, and Odin took them from me, without a backward glance to see the agony I was in. So, yes. That is all I want."
Loki snapped out of his daze, and viewed the others' varying faces. Thor was gaping dumbly like a gutted fish. The Captain was shocked, but containing his reaction, as was the doctor. The most amusing reaction of all was Agent Barton's. The man was standing there loose-limbed, wide-eyed; it was comical.
"We … will need to think … about this." The Captain cleared his throat and knitted his forehead.
"Brother, I - I -" Thor tried to choke out some useless sibling drivel, tears starting to form in the fool's eyes.
Loki interrupted the man who had once been his brother with a bland interjection of facts. "No, you never saw the torment I was in. No, you never saw my children." His voice grew into a snarl. " Yes, the Allfather, in his infinite wisdom saw fit to take my children from me. You, will all your power, all your strength, never noticed that I even had children, much less that I lost them to your father. And I will never forgive you for that."
He watched in satisfaction as Thor drew away. He knew it was cruel, but it was just so gratifying to see the mighty thunderer brought low.
His attention was brought back to the doctor when he cleared his throat. "Uh, how many kids do you have?"
"Eight." His eyes flickered in pain.
"And where are they?"
His lips twisted into a sick smile. "Why, doctor, they are scattered across the Nine Realms under a spell to keep them in horrendous shapes and to never be on the same planet as me or each other. It seems Odin's cruelty has no bounds."
"What will it take to get them back?" The soldier was the one to ask now.
"The spell lifted by Odin, a detachment of warriors to go to each realm to retrieve them, a spellcaster to lift the enchantments keeping them prisoner, and a diplomat to speak with the leaders of each realm. But I fear the first is impossible, for Odin is as stubborn as he is ancient." Loki said each point matter-of-factly, but injected wryness into the last remark.
The Captain was smarter than he looked. "I see. We'll do what we can. I would guess that you would want to come along with, huh?"
He flashed him a smile. "Very astute. But not only for my benefit. Some of my children might be … shall we say, feral from being alone for so long, and could attack the very ones who free them. All in the interest of safety, of course." A spike of longing and unease about not being allowed to see his children shot through him.
"How old were they?" To his surprise, the agent was the one to affect a soft-spoken, weary air.
He blinked in shock, then parted his lips and exhaled a shaky breath. "Sleipnir was the first. He was conceived in … unusual means, and Odin took him when he was strong enough to run. Einmyria and Eisa were next, and my first wife, their mother, took them when they were less than a century old, but I could visit them from time to time until Odin took them too. Jormungandr, Fenrir, and Hela were next. My second wife cared not for her children, so it was my duty to care for them, and Odin cast them out soon after. After them, I married again, and had Narfi and Vali. Odin waited so long to punish or prison them, but they were still boys when they were used to punish me. All of them were below their first millennia, about ten of your Midgardian years, when they were taken." He had to take a deep breath at the end to compose his nerves.
The agent's face was stone nodding slowly. "That's … fucked up. No wonder you went batshit crazy."
Loki gave him a thin-lipped smile. "Well, you would lose some sanity if you loved your children and had them ripped away from you over the course of millennia, too."
"I - I … never knew. Brother, I am so sorry." The dolt looked heartbroken, and Loki was content with the knowledge that he felt so. He turned to face his false brother, and his hair rose from the force of magic trying to break free from the anger coursing through his veins like Nidavellir forge fire.
"No, you were too busy with your petty pursuits and fawning admirers to notice your shadow's heart breaking eight times." He said silkily, with no emotion save pleasant politeness. "Ergo, you have no right to call me your brother, nor call my children your kin. I scorn you and your overtures of peace. I will never forgive you for being so wrapped up in yourself, and for not pleading for Odin's leniency because of it. Now, never entreat to fraternize with my children, or I swear to you, Odinson, I will burn your world and topple you from your throne, while I take away any hope of love or friendship."
Thor nodded slowly, and Loki could see the broken clarity shine through the haze of arrogance. Satisfied, he turned to face the rest of the Avengers.
"So, do we have an agreement?" The question hung in the air, quivering and hopeful.
Rogers exchanged a glance with Barton, while Banner looked on nervously. However, it wasn't the captain to walk forward. Hard, brown eyes full of anger looked into green ones full of cold.
"You help me get Natasha back and obliterate Doom, and I'll make sure we get your kids back." Agent Barton's heart was showing in fire through his eyes.
Loki bit back the shock, and smiled a toothy grin filled with the madness of pain and anger. He dipped his head and performed a bow worthy of a king.
"We have an agreement." The words sent a cold chill down the backs of anyone listening.
Barton hesitantly nodded back, followed by Rogers and Banner. Loki's smile widened, and the room was ten degrees colder.
Can I just say, I like writing Loki the best, and I think my writing reflects that. And two updates in two days! Whaaaat? I'm spoiling you rotten! Also, since I love Loki and he's my favorite character, this story's probably gonna be more Loki-centric in the future. If you have any thoughts, comments, concerns, or plot bunnies, throw me a review or a PM me.
As always, Dreamer.