Okay guys, don't worry your pretty little heads, here's the juicy Loki part you were looking for. ^.^ (albeit not that juicy) Just you wait dear readers, there will soon be so much Loki goodness you'll be sick of him.
The hall was splendid: the whole thing made with enough gold to have a pure mountain of it. Precious jewels were set into delicately-carved pillars supporting the massive domed ceiling, which was made of honeycomb opals that sparkled and reflected their iridescent light. Magnificent windows let in copious amounts of light that warmed the marble and obsidian tiles. Even without windows, the room would have been amply lit by a large circular fire pit in the center of the room, the acrid smell of smoke filtering through a small hole in the center of the ceiling. Nobles of all ranks had turned out in their best robes and dresses, given their armor an extra polish, and the multi-colored satin and gaudy headdresses made one feel as though you were in a room full of exotic birds. A lavish red carpet, embroidered with gold thread, ran the length of the room, circumnavigated the fire pit, and extended up to the raised dais.
The beauty and grandeur of the main hall held no charms for Loki, whose attention was focused at the end of the room, where on the red-velvet gold throne sat the Allfather, Lord of Asier, and Bane of the Frost Giants, Odin. Though age had ravaged his body, Odin was an imposing figure, with broad shoulders and a wizened old face, marred by the eye patch that covered the gaping hole beneath. His mouth was set in a grim line - almost invisible under his snow-white beard. His wife and mother to Loki, Frigga, sat on the smaller yet no less splendid throne to his left; Thor, his adopted brother to his right.
The guards tightened their grip on Loki's arms and half-dragged half-escorted him to a kneeling position in front of the king. He resisted the urge to spring to his feet; it was unbecoming of a god to kneel, even to his father, though he had no wish to make Odin any more angry than he already was. Still, the pose was foreign to him and subjugation was not his forte.
Odin stood, and the congregation of nobles which had previously been babbling about the banished prince fell silent. The trial had gone well enough, but this was what they had been waiting for. The recess between which had only made their anticipation grow.
Odin pounded the golden floor with his staff three times, the sound reverberating through the hall and jarring Loki's bones. "Loki Odinson!" he proclaimed, sitting back down. "Your case has been brought before the Asgardian Council, and you have been found guilty of high treason, attempted murder, disruption of the peace of the Nine Realms, and as such this is your sentencing. Does the accused have anything to say?" The room seemed to tense as a palpable undercurrent of tension swept through the grand hall.
Loki ground his jaw, determined not to give away any of his emotions, namely anger towards Odin. Rage burned through his veins, coursing through his heart, and seemed to seep off his skin. He would rather have been called Laufeyson than Odinson. The name left a bitter taste in his mouth. "No." he said, keeping his voice calm and level. Odin nodded as if he expected this much.
"Your punishment is thus: you will be stripped of your title, your status, and your powers that were given to you at birth, and from henceforth you are no longer a citizen of Asgard." Loki thought he didn't hear correctly. He thought he was going to live out his life as a prisoner. "You are hereby banished to the Midgardian realms, where they may punish you as they see fit." Some of the onlookers squawked and a current of quiet whistles ran like a tidal wave, implications and declarations of justification for his crimes the least of what was said. Loki could hardly believe his ears. Sent to Earth? To be among the very people he had tried to conquer, without so much as a card trick to help him survive? For how long? And what was Odin's real motive?
"Does the accused have anything to say?" Odin asked the for the final time, cutting Loki's thoughts and the thoughts of the nobles short.
"No." His voice had gotten quieter than before, preoccupied with his future on Earth.
"Very well. Escort him to the bifrost." commanded Odin. The nobles erupted into frenzied chitter, wondering at the wisdom of Odin. Could the old man be sentimental about his youngest son? Surely a war criminal of such an esteemed crime deserved a worse punishment? As Loki looked back, rage plain in his emerald eyes, he thought he saw something glisten in Odin's good eye, but it could have been a trick of the light. While Loki's face remained expressionless, his eyes did not. Frigga looked away, dabbing the corner of her eye discreetly. Thor gripped his hammer tighter, though Loki had no plans of escape.
It was a long walk to the bifrost, made all the longer since Loki could not ride a horse. There was an awkward, strained silence between accused and accuser. Odin, Thor, and ten guards accompanied them. Frigga had excused herself to her bedchambers. Once they got there, Heimdall, looking as stoic as ever, led the small party inside the newly-repaired bifrost, with the tesseract in the center of the chamber, illuminating the inside and those within a ghostly blue light. For an instant, Odin was reminded of Loki as a frost giant, but the thought was soon forgotten.
"Does the accused have any last words?" Odin asked, remaining deceptively impassive. Loki glared at him but made no sound. Odin nodded curtly and nodded to Heimdall, who strode over, his gold eyes locked on the tesseract. Loki grasped one handle, and as he did so the bifrost's outer shell started to rotate, the spinning point slowly pointing down, the energy growing in the room, snapping and crackling and making their teeth chatter until a metallic taste filled their mouths and their spines vibrated.
Loki savored one last glare at all those save Heimdall, whom he knew wouldn't react no matter what he did. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath of Asgardian air before it felt like he was being yanked by his scalp through a rubber tube and deposited unceremoniously in a whirl of wind and color. He surveyed his surroundings, the cracked asphalt below his feet, the police cruisers and black SUVs that parked in a circle around him, and without so much as a second thought he galloped head-first into the thick trees behind him.
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