Breathe in deeply, exhale, breathe in deeply exhale, breathe in deeply exhale.
This is the mantra I have been repeating to myself for the better half of this hour.
After "dying" I disguised myself as a trusted guard and told Odin of my death. I expected him to throw a celebration. To walk to the balcony and address his subjects, shouting "Rejoice people of Asgard rejoice! The treacherous Jotun Prince has met his demise!" I could just imagine the celebration that would go on for months, hell maybe even for a year. The Warriors three and Sif would go on and on about how I tagged along with them everywhere they traveled, how useless I was in battle, what a pest I was, how glad they were to get rid of me. Odin would nod and apologize for taking pity on such a pathetic runt. The people would dance in the streets. Carpenters would build a statue in my image and commoners would burn it to the ground for all to see.
Yes that's what I was sure would happen, but it did not. Odin was heartbroken at the news of my death, so heartbroken in fact he went into an Odin's sleep. I was so panicky I knew not what to do, I dragged him to where we kept the first time this happened and used my magic to disguise myself as Odin. Thor came and told me of how he no longer desired the throne as he did before. After he left I dropped my illusion just for a second, just so I could breathe, just so I could be myself again, be Loki the God of Mischief, the God of Lies.
This was a rather huge mistake.
The same time I did this guards came in and ambushed me. Weakened by using my magic regularly I could not fight back. They took me to my old chambers and demanded I tell them where their king was. I told them he fell into an Odin's sleep once again but they did not believe me. That's when things got violent. The guards started to take turns kicking me, stabbing me, whatever there rotten minds could think of.
That was about 3 moons ago.
Now they are gone looking for the king, probably passing by where Odin lay foolishly. Though a part of me does not blame them, who could ever in their right minds believe me?
"Where is he, Liesmith?!" one of the guard asks as they renter the rooming circling me like vultures.
"I told you where he is, fools." I say spitting blood as I speak.
"As if we listen to you cursed Jotun," the tallest guard said spitting on my face.
"It does not matter if you listen to me."
The palest of the guard steps forward and squats down next to me, "I tire of your voice, Prince Loki. Don't you agree brothers?"
The other guards nod in agreement with a rather unpleasant look on their faces.
"I think it's time that silver tongue of yours to be stilled."
He, the tallest guard, and two others hold me down while another looms over me with a needle and thread in hand, "Any last words, prince?"
Any last words? Seriously? How predictable, how cliché, how unoriginal, how...lame, "See you in hell."
They all laugh and the guard moves to make the first stitch. I immediately tense up and try to throw the guards of me but there's no use. They're all stronger than me and my magic is still weak from lack of nourishment. My vision is beginning to blur from the excruciating pain. As the world wraps me in the darkness that I've familiarized myself with, the guards laugh at my suffering. No doubt it will echo through the halls of my mind for a very long time.