The bright light of the earth's sun faded to darker, richer tones and a sky forever filled with stars as Asgard came into view. When the blue haze from the Tesseract's power diminished, the fine, golden towers of the palace became visible. Their height and majesty surpassed what he remembered; it seemed like he had been away for an extraordinarily long time. Perhaps this was the effect of the change in the way time flowed between Asgard and the mortal realm.
There were people gathered around the entrance to the palace, seemingly awaiting their return. Loki surmised this was his "welcoming party" of gawkers who had come to quietly berate and watch the poor, fallen prince as he walked to his doom. He was leashed and muzzled like a dog, and the staring faces of those who had once bowed to him renewed the anger and humiliation he already in his defeat.
He was fairly certain the deepest dungeon in Asgard was what was awaiting him, but it didn't leave his mind that the chopping block was another distinct possibility. A death sentence was the only way he could really lose. Loki had always planned to return to Asgard, either as an attacking force, or a vanquished enemy. It was a calculated risk that he may end up facing something worse than prison when he arrived, but he wagered that the queen and king would have mercy on the man they had raised from infancy. His greatest ally in this leg of his struggle would be his silver tongue and any sense of sentimentality his adoptive parents still held for him.
Thor was surprised by the size of the crowd that had gathered to witness their return and he was also stunned by their hostility towards the returning prince. He could sense bloodlust from every direction, and the scent of weapons polish was heavy in the air. Thor felt uneasy in the midst of the mob; he silently wondered if he would end up protecting his brother more than escorting him. He grabbed Loki's arm and abruptly pulled him into a closer proximity to him as he led him through the huge palace doors and down the Hall of Odin. The crowd began to follow.
"This is unnecessary," Thor said firmly, addressing those who insisted on remaining in close company. "I can escort my brother alone."
The crowd began to murmur their protests. "He uses his craft cunningly! He'll change into a snake and slither away," he heard one man say.
"He'll poison your thoughts," said another.
Loki grinned madly under his mouthpiece. Judging by their reactions, he was more powerful than he had ever been before; his influence also seemed to travel much further with the citizens of Asgard as an enemy than it had as a prince. "I can assure you, he will not try to escape. He has nowhere to run." Loki looked towards his brother; his grin grew slightly larger.
"Thor, allow us to accompany you," argued a familiar and distinctly female voice. The crowd broke away to reveal Sif and the Three. "He attacked us as well; we could serve as counsel."
"Yes, and it will also be quite gratifying to see him get his just desserts," Fandral spoke.
Thor considered it for a moment, torn by his desire to keep the inevitable affair as private as possible, and his loyalty to his friends and his realm. It would be better for Asgard if there were witnesses to Odin's judgment. However, it would be worse, almost dangerous, for Loki to go on trial surrounded by people who wished to cut his throat for his actions against the king and his destruction of the Bifrost.
While they stood, Loki looked up curiously at Sif, his eyes locking intensely on her. She could sense his hard stare and glanced in his direction. Their eyes met momentarily, but she faltered quickly, her frown deepening as she looked away.
Is that pity - or fear? Loki wondered.
Thor took a deep breath and rubbed his forehead. "Very well," he started, failing to notice his brother's behavior, "you may follow, but please remain quiet and keep your distance. If you are asked to leave, do so immediately. I don't know what my father has in store for him, and I fear your presence may incite his wrath."
Sif and the Three bowed as a sign of agreement. Thor continued inside with Loki, Sif following cautiously behind the two Odinsons. Fandral and Volstagg exchanged concerned glances, but the Three followed as well.
The great doors to the Hall of Odin opened, revealing a crowd of nobles, elders, and council members that had gathered to witness Loki's judgment. Thor cursed quietly; he had hoped there wouldn't be an audience, that he could express to his brother what had to be said about his betrayal and his lies without having to worry about showing weakness or mercy. Odin, however, seemed indifferent to having a crow present.
The hall was very long, but even from the far side of it, Odin could be clearly seen sitting high upon his golden throne. His stare was fixed on Loki the moment they walked through the door, but his face lacked even the slightest hint of emotion. The queen, however, was not positioned in her normal place beside his chair. She was standing on the floor at the bottom of the stairs; her hand was covering her mouth as though she was preventing herself from revealing the true depth of her sadness. As they walked closer, Loki could see moisture in her eyes and trails of water on her cheeks. She was never effective in her attempts to hide her emotions, which made her a passionate, but often over-sentimental leader. If Loki was going to keep his head, it might prove wise to seek her support.
"You have done well, Thor," Odin greeted his son in a warm, but authoritative tone. "The last time we defended Earth against an invading army, it took nearly every warrior in our realm; you managed to succeed alone."
Thor bowed and put his right hand over his heart. "Thank you Father, but I was not alone. The people of Midgard are much stronger than they were one thousand years ago, and they have mighty representation."
"Do not trivialize your own victory," Odin said. "You showed courage, strength, wisdom, and restraint. I could not have expected more - and Earth could not have asked for a better advocate."
"Thank you," he said again.
Odin's focus shifted to Loki, and as fast as a strike of lightning, his mood changed. His face became red with anger and his fist turned white as he tightly gripped Gungnir. "It is unfortunate that such a victory should have been won against the treachery and failure of family."
Loki's head was bent down, and as Odin spoke the word "family" he looked up, granting his father the iciest stare he could from his cold, blue eyes.
"The question remains, what do we do with a prince that has done everything in his power to betray his own realm, his station - and the ones who care for him?" Odin's voice waivered, but it did not break; tears lined his eye, but they didn't fall upon his cheek. "What would be fitting for a liar, a murderer, and a traitor?"
It was a question Thor had been considering since the day he and the others on his team had defeated Loki. Despite the time that had passed, he still could not answer. In the back of his mind, he knew what he would be demanding if any other person was standing in Loki's place, but the memories of his younger brother filled his heart with a sad longing for that boy's return. He couldn't find or say the words for the order; he couldn't ask for his brother's death.
The longer Thor remained silent, the louder the whispers from the audience became. As they stood there, the group that had come to witness the trial began to demand the chopping block. This drew some protests from those who believed he should be burned alive due to his vast store of magical energy. The crowd's noise grew too loud for Thor to focus and Odin slammed the end of his staff into the ground. The unnaturally loud clang that resounded throughout the room quieted the crowd, but it did not serve to clear Thor's thoughts.
Loki remained surprisingly quiet through all of this, except for the occasional clatter of the chains that bound his hands. He offered no defense for his actions or alibi. Instead, he stood back and assessed the situation by carefully reading the faces of the three people he had considered family. Frigga, who had been trying to remain quiet and stoic, made the critical error of looking up at him. She couldn't bear to see him in chains or the horrible muzzle that wrapped around his head. Her brow furrowed and fresh tears rolled freely down her cheek.
"Mother..." His soft voice sounded muffled from behind his mask. It was the first word he had spoken since in quite some time, and his voice was rough from lack of use.
Frigga's face contorted in sadness. She took a step towards him, reaching out for his hands. Her eyes filled with pity, love, and despair.
Like the mighty roar of a lion, Odin's voice echoed down the great hall of the throne room. Sif and the Three were startled by the sheer volume and power behind his shout, and were shocked it had been directed towards the queen in such a public venue. The muttering crowd had been completely silenced. Sif scoffed quietly; she could sympathize with the queen's feelings towards the man she had raised. However, even despite Sif's distance from Thor and Loki, she could tell what his intentions were by calling to Frigga first.
The queen dropped her arms and returned to her position by the stairs in front of the throne. She did not argue Odin's rebuke. Her expression remained stoic and dignified - the image of strength expected from the Queen of Asgard. However, the softness that remained in her eyes when she looked at Loki indicated that her opinion of her son was not congruent with her husband's.
Odin rose from his throne and slowly descended the stairs. When he reached the bottom, he placed a hand on her shoulder, a silent sign of peace she would understand. As he walked, the sound of Gungnir falling with every step resounded throughout the hall. He stopped a full ten paces in front of Loki, narrowing his eye and furrowing his brow as he carefully examined the man he called "son," but he sensed no regret and saw little that resembled the boy who had grown up in the palace. Loki met his eye and smirked, silently challenging him to cast judgment. Odin's rage returned; he slammed his staff down, creating a sound so loud that even the guards toward the back of the hall moved to cover their ears. Loki didn't flinch.
"Your actions have accelerated the demise of Jotunheim and have caused thousands of deaths in Midgard. You've raised a blade to the throat of your brother and those who had called you 'friend.' I should kill you now and be done with it," he said through a growl. He took a deep breath; his voice quieting to nearly a whisper, "and yet I have not the heart to go through with it. Perhaps - I have grown too soft in these later years of my life."
"Father..." Thor started. Odin put a hand up to silence the words he believed would follow.
"Did Midgard make any demands when you took him?"
"No," Thor answered, "only that they wanted justice."
Odin showed minor annoyance with the vague nature of Earth's request. "I have not been there in a very long time. Do you believe they would desire us to put him to death?"
Thor rubbed his chin with this thumb as he considered his response carefully. "It is difficult to say. The Midgardians can be quick to anger and prone to violence, but in the time of my visits, I was shown great compassion and care. I'm not certain what they would want; they entrusted the decision to us believing we would make the right one."
"Odin..." Frigga spoke, approaching her husband and intertwining her hand in his. She didn't speak any further. The tender touch and the look in her eyes was enough of an argument. He knew where she stood.
He nodded slightly, acknowledging her silent plea to save Loki's life. "The 'right' decision..." he said, mostly to himself.
Odin walked over to the side of the hall near a large, open wall that looked out over the city. Their star was setting for the day and its light was casting a golden glow over Asgard. As he looked out at the horizon filled with reds, yellows, and swirling blues, he allowed his mind's eye to travel through Yggdrasil and its realms. He focused on the city on Earth that Loki had attacked, the large populated area over which he had released an army bent on pure destruction.
A memorial wall had been built around and area of the city commemorating the faces and names of those who had been killed; flyers taped and stapled to the wall begged for information on those who remained missing after the attack. There seemed to be a permanent haze filling the air caused by dust from the clean-up demolition. Some of Thor's companions were busy there helping and supervising the rebuild. A flying man in bright red armor helped lift steel beams from the ground; another man dressed in blue adorned with a single, white star on his chest gave orders to rescue teams who were still searching for trapped survivors and the remains of the dead who had been buried in debris. It had only been a number of days, and the weight of the loss was apparent on the grim faces of those who were working hard in the midst of cleanup efforts.
Odin looked gravely at Loki. Although he had a benefactor and a coconspirator, he bore the responsibility of this attack alone - at least on this day in Asgard's hall. The Allfather could not process the fact that this monster was the same boy who used to demand nothing more than a story of his father's many conquests before he went to bed for the night; he couldn't connect the stranger that stood before him with the child that would hug him tightly around the waist every time he returned from off-world. However, despite the distance that had grown between him and his son, he felt a great dissonance in his position as king and his role as Loki's father. If there was even a small chance that his son was still inside the empty shell that was chained on the floor of his throne room, he could not give the order for his death.
Odin glanced around the room at the crowd who sat silently as they awaited his judgment. "No matter what he has meant to us in the past, Loki cannot escape punishment," he started, facing Thor again, "but as to whether or not he will die for his crimes - I leave that decision to Asgard's future king."
The noise from the crowd increased once again; even Loki looked up in surprise. The idea that his life would be in his brother's hands was an interesting twist, but he wasn't quite sure what it meant. He was counting on the sentimentality of the king and queen, but Thor had been on the frontlines of Loki's attacks and may not feel the same unconditional attachment. Had he tested Thor's patience one too many times?
In the background, the Three looked at each other with some concern. Sif frowned; Thor had changed since his banishment on Earth. He had become a gentler version of his previous self in a very short time. While this made him calmer and more calculating in his actions, it created doubt in his ability to see past his love for his brother to the truth of his deplorable actions.
"Father..." Thor began in protest. "What you ask of me - it's too much."
"I know I have burdened you," Odin replied, "but those are decisions a king must often make. You were there with him; you have a clear perspective and context of his actions, and you know the scope and depth of the pain that he has caused."
Thor couldn't find the words to speak. His father remained stoic and did not reveal his own will for the situation. His mother's eyes silently pleaded for her younger son. Loki, however, would not meet his stare. Instead, he remained unmoving, his expression completely blank as he looked at the ground in front of him.
"You could make this easier by at least pretending to be sorry," Thor said to Loki in an angry whisper. "Don't you have anything to say in your own defense?"
Loki did not respond.
Thor looked back at his friends for support, but the counsel they had offered did not come for this immense decision. "No, I..." Thor started, looking again to his brother for any sort of reaction. "I cannot sentence a prince of Asgard to his death."
The queen quietly released a breath she had been holding; Odin nodded. "Very well," he stated. "Loki - Laufeyson..." he paused, feeling a pain of regret in his heart when he addressed him with this title. He ignored the dull roar of the confused audience and continued without explanation. The message wasn't intended for them, it was only important that Loki understood its meaning. "I hereby sentence you to be flogged and imprisoned for the rest of your natural life, or until Thor sees fit to end it."
Even in the face of judgment, Loki did not move or react. The only emotion he'd shown aside from snide confidence was toward the queen, and this was the only person within the nine realms that owned even an ounce of his regret. This affection for her would not last long, however. As his conscience slowly burned away with time, so did the last vestiges of his attachment to his family. Eventually, he knew he would view even her as nothing more than an obstacle in his path.
"You still have nothing to say?" Thor asked, a hint of desperation in his voice. Although he was keeping his head, a flogging, in Asgard's definition, was far from pleasant. He'd seen much stronger men than his brother beg for the ax before their punishments were over. A lifetime within Asgard's scarcely-used prison was also no small matter. Loki may have won his life, but he was headed towards a painful, dark future. Thor's anger burned regarding the losses on Earth Loki had caused, but there was a part of him that felt protective of him, even still.
When it became clear that Loki would not stand or testify in his own defense, Odin spoke again. "Take him away."
Loki's chains rattled violently as two guards grabbed either arm. Two additional sets of guards followed him to the front and behind, escorting him to the courtyard outside of the prison entrance. Before they left, Odin whispered to the guards, ordering them to bar any civilians from the viewing platforms. The onlookers had witnessed enough, and he cared not to satisfy their morbid curiosity.
When they arrived in the courtyard, the guards unchained Loki's arms in order to begin stripping him to his skin. His long cape, gauntlets, belts, armor, and shirts were gradually removed until he was completely exposed above his waist. The light from the setting sun cast a warm glow against the pale skin of his chest. For a moment, he looked healthy and normal, like the man he had been such a short time ago.
The guards strapped his arms tightly around a stone slab that was planted in the ground in the middle of the courtyard; his cheek was pressed firmly against the stone's cool surface, causing the mask he still wore to dig into his face. His shoulders were stretched nearly to their limit, pulling the surface of his back in order to provide the flogger with a larger, blank canvas on which to do his work. Loki closed his eyes and braced himself, awaiting the first bite of the whip.
"...no, this is part of the sentence is not necessary! There is nothing to be gained by further bloodshed! You cannot..." he heard his mother's voice echo around the empty yard. His family had followed them down along with Sif who, for once, was not accompanied by the Three. His father yelled something indiscernible in reply, but the queen rebuked it. "You brought him into this house! You asked me to nurse him, to raise him - to love him as my own - and yet you cannot understand, after everything, why I would be so desperate to protect him? I am his mother!"
"What would you have me do, send him to Earth? It would only be worse, and you would never see him again!" Odin yelled. He sighed, allowing his frustration to lessen before continuing. "You do not understand what harm he has caused. My decision is final."
Frigga looked sadly at her son, strung up like a beast awaiting slaughter. "I will not witness this," she said firmly, "and the council will mark my protest with this decision."
Odin nodded slightly, acknowledging her argument; she turned and quickly walked back into the palace.
Thor watched her leave. For a moment, Sif thought he would follow her, not to convince her to return, but so that he could avoid watching it as well. Sif walked up behind him and placed a supportive hand on his arm, but he didn't acknowledge her. She bit her lip nervously and removed it again.
"Thor, he is anxious," she said.
Thor turned his head back towards the courtyard and his brother. "Of course he is," he said quietly, furrowing his brow. "He's about to be beaten to the brink of death."
"No, the scourgeman, he's nervous - and he's hesitating," she explained.
"Why would you say that?" he asked, shaking himself from his thoughts. The gallant Einherjar of Asgard were not known for allowing themselves to appear timid.
"He hasn't yet begun, and he seems to look to you for some sort of affirmation," she explained. "I suppose I would hesitate to obey in this duty as well, and would want a show of final support."
Thor shook his head. "He is loyal to the king – and he has carried out this punishment many times before."
"Never on a prince who previously owned his fealty," she argued.
Thor remained silent for a moment, considering her observation. "Perhaps exaggerations of Loki's power have spread unfounded fear."
"Then he looks to you for security," she said. He looked towards her in confusion. "I know this is difficult, but for you, this is a good thing. Your willingness to oversee your beloved brother's punishment has shown them that you hold nothing above the welfare of Asgard and its people. You have always been well-liked, but this will earn you much of their respect." She gently took his hand.
He took a deep breath. "I hope you're right," he said, kissing the top of her hand. She smiled at the act, a token of affection he used to do all the time, but had decreased as of late. He smiled lightly at her, though the sadness and insecurity in his eyes overwhelmed any sense of reassurance. He turned to the flogger, who seemed as apprehensive as Sif had described. The Einherjar looked from Loki back to Thor repeatedly, running the sharp leather strips of the whip through his fingers, to the ragged stones at their end.
Thor's signal to the guard was subtle, but whatever encouragement the guard inferred from it was enough. The flogger was swift; Thor didn't see him bring his arm forward, but he heard the crack of the leather as it sped through the air. Sif jumped lightly and covered her mouth. Loki hadn't made a sound, but the red stripes of raw flesh and the trails of blood falling down his back attested to the strength of the strike; it was only the first of many.
Odin walked away when the punishment began, but Thor never once left the court until it was over. By the time the fortieth mark was made, Loki's back was a map of welts, torn flesh, and blood. His long, sweat-soaked hair mingled with the tears from his eyes, obscuring his face behind an obsidian curtain. He never cried out; the loudest sound he allowed to escape his throat was the occasional grunt through gritted teeth. It would've brought minor relief to Thor to hear some kind of noise, whether it was a shout of pain, or his maniacal laugh. The silence was almost too much to bear.
After the first few lashes, Sif had not been able to continue watching. She turned her back, closing her eyes at the sound of every impact. When it was over, she turned back towards the yard and Thor could see moisture lining her eyes.
"Do you still believe this was a good thing?" he asked in a low voice.
She opened her mouth to answer, but couldn't speak. Loki had done some horrible things in his life, and she had been suspicious of his intentions for years. However, with every strike, her anger had been dulled. Her thoughts were filled with the image of the boy she used to play with every so often, the child who would excitedly brag to her when he learned a new trick, desperate to draw her attention from his older brother and always trying too hard to impress her. If this act of justice had elicited such an emotional response in her, she could not imagine how Thor felt, having given the order to begin the punishment himself despite his continued love for his brother.
When it was clear she couldn't answer his question, Thor walked away, his skin pale with a kind of exhaustion he had never before experienced.
The guards unstrapped Loki's arms from around the slab of rock. For the first time, he let out a yell as they forced him to stand. The flesh on his back moved as he changed his posture, causing a sudden surge of agony to shoot up and down his entire body. A wave of remorse and sympathy washed over Sif - not for Loki, but for Thor. Loki had forced his hand several times now, but Thor had always hoped that he would eventually return to his place by his side. This punishment, no matter how well-deserved it was, was a wedge that would only drive them further apart.
The dark of night fell over Asgard. The king and queen had eventually gone to their quarters, the crowd had dispersed from the hall, and Thor had gone off on his own to think. The palace had fallen silent; the only thing that could be heard was the occasional crack of the wood in its various large fireplaces and the soft foot falls of the guards as they made their rounds.
Sif had gone to back to her house for a moment and had returned to pass some time in the hall, a fully packed satchel at her side. She waited before moving on, hoping to make the trip down to the dungeon without causing controversy or sparking gossip between the particularly nosey individuals who had come to watch the trial. She was also waiting for the guards to settle Loki into his new dwellings. Her procrastination wasn't necessarily due to fear; she was wise enough to know better than to pet a rabid dog without a muzzle. By now, he would be in his cell, protected by guards, with chains and his mask in place to prevent him from being able to cast his illusions, or other trickery.
With a torch in her hand and her bag around her shoulder, she descended into the one place in Asgard she had never been - the lower dungeon. Light and air disappeared as she walked down the long stairwell. It was somehow drafty and stifling at the same time. Dampness leaked through the walls, making the air thick with humidity. It was no wonder the people of Asgard often preferred a flogging to prison time, if they were given the choice. Away from the warm light of Asgard's sun, brilliant sky, and fresh, clean air, this place felt like death.
As she approached the bottom of the stairwell and the first set of heavy security doors, she was greeted by two Einherjar who inquired about her business. She told them a half-truth, indicating that she was there on Thor's orders, even though she was not; the guards did not question her honesty. As a childhood friend of Thor's and a high-ranking warrior in her own rite, she carried a small, but convenient amount of authority and respect within the palace walls.
She passed through the second, inner set of doors without further interruption. It seemed Odin felt comfortable leaving only a small garrison of guards down with Loki. The only other sentries were two in front of his cell door; she surmised that they had probably installed some other security measures to ensure he wouldn't escape.
Even in the darkness, she could see his figure slumped over on the hard plank of wood that served as his bed. He shivered violently due to the pain of his wounds and the draft in the air. His robes were folded neatly beside him, but his arms were chained tightly around his chest; he couldn't move, let alone dress himself, and he couldn't lie down. Despite the severity of his injuries, he leaned against the wall of his cell, allowing the cool of the stone to numb the welts, bruises, and deep gashes on his back.
She remained still and stared at him for a moment. Although he was shaking, sweat poured down his face and onto his lap; his complexion was sickly pale and his breath was becoming more and more ragged. He seemed helpless and harmless, but her mind still waivered regarding her decision.
"Let me in and lock the door behind me," she told the guard.
"My Lady..." he protested.
"I will take full responsibility if something should happen," she interrupted.
The guard hesitated, but complied with her request.
The door opened with a creak of rusted hinges and Loki looked up at her. Through the grates in his mask, she could see him grinning wickedly, but his short, shallow breaths betrayed the reality of his pain.
"To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?" he asked, his rich voice resounding through the empty, dungeon.
She swallowed hard, pushing the uneasy feeling in her gut down. His bright blue eyes bore into her as he awaited her response; she looked away in an attempt to ignore his stare. "I'm here to offer some assistance," she said, opening the top of her pack to reveal a large quantity of healing stones.
"I don't recall asking for your help," he spat.
"I didn't say it was for your benefit. Thor looked as though he had taken your lashing upon himself; he was physically ill after the trial. I've come to alleviate his wounds by healing yours."
"Don't I feel sorry for him." Loki spoke his sardonic reply slowly and deeply.
She disregarded his sarcasm. "You don't wish to be healed? It will be weeks before you are able to sit normally - and I doubt the guards will know how to check for infection."
"I have always been a fast healer, Sif," he started with a chortle. "You can waste your pity elsewhere."
She sighed and stepped back to the door of his cell, calling the guard over with a wave. The guard approached and bowed lightly. "Give me the keys to his shackles."
"Lady Sif, it is too dangerous," the guard protested.
"He is severely injured," Sif argued, slightly perturbed by the guard's lack of bravery.
The guard glanced at Loki as though he was waiting for him to pounce at him."That would not prevent him from using magic."
Sif crossed her arms and leaned closer to the bars of the cell. "His mask prevents him from casting magic, and if I'm not mistaken, there are several enchantments on the cell itself to shield it from magical energy, is that correct?"
"That is correct, Lady," the guard said. "However, I must advise..."
"Even a scorpion is harmless, if you remove its stinger."
The guard looked at his partner questioningly, but the other man did not respond. Hesitantly, he handed her the key through the iron bars. She nodded her thanks.
Loki watched curiously as she knelt in front of him to unlock the tight shackles that intertwined around his wrists and ankles. She seemed entirely certain he wouldn't try anything, or perhaps confident that she could best him if he did. Her assessment was probably correct, considering the measures they had taken to completely cut him off from his greatest weapon.
The thick metal rings around his wrists fell to the ground with a heavy thud, revealing the area where they had cut into his skin. Sif's expression softened sympathetically.
"It is astonishing how quickly friendships in Asgard are abandoned in the face of adversity," Loki said, looking towards the sentry on the left as he rubbed the sores on his wrists. "My unmerciful ward seems to have forgotten who helped him pass his third year exams at the academy."
The guard glanced at him from the corner of his eye, but did not respond.
"You would know about waning loyalties, wouldn't you Sif? Exactly how long after our return from Jotunheim did you wait before you began accusing me of conspiracy and treason?"
"Why would you address this issue now?" she asked, aghast that even in his hopeless state, he would attack her with the only weapon he had: his words. "I'm here to he..."
He scoffed. "You come as an angel of mercy, but I won't likely forget the fact that my plan failed because of your treachery."
Sif stiffened as his low words echoed throughout the chamber. She had not realized he heard her that day when she had spoken to the Three regarding her suspicions. "Lie down on your stomach," she ordered, ignoring his accusation.
"The others were content enough to know that I had saved their lives by informing Odin of Thor's plan, but you read right past that, didn't you?"
"And I was right," she argued. "Now lie down."
Loki chuckled dryly in response. He complied with her request and laid face-down on the bench where he sat. His skin and muscles stretched and shifted, sending red-hot waves of pain through his body as his wounds reopened. He did not cry out, but he could not disguise the hiss of pain that escaped his gritted teeth.
She slipped off her gloves and tenderly touched the swollen area around this welts where the whip had broken the skin. She needed to determine the order in which to heal him. His entire back was red and brown from his drying blood; dirt from the prison's walls smeared the surface and gathered in the jagged edges of his flesh.
"I need to wash the area first or the wounds won't close properly." She pulled out a spare piece of cloth and canteen full of alcohol, pouring the liquid over the rag until it soaked through. His breath left his lungs when she first touched his sore skin and returned only in short gasps until she was finished.
Her ministration was careful, but not overly so. Smaller wounds that had begun to scab over had reopened due to her thorough cleaning. Sharp pain came in waves across his spine, down his legs, and up to his neck. He saw stars as his vision became dark and his head swam. His lungs begged for more air, but he dare not move for a deep breath and increase his pain.
"You are difficult to predict," he said between pained gasps. Sif frowned, but she didn't request his elaboration. "I know you have felt ill against me for a while, but I didn't expect you to manipulate Thor in order to have your vengeance for the Destroyer's attack on Earth."
She didn't say anything, but for a moment, her hands stopped their work on his back. He knew he had already begun to get under her skin. "This will be easier for both of us if you don't speak," she said, resisting the urge to ask him what he meant.
"I thought it was inspired - making Thor believe he was garnering the love of his people by ensuring I was beaten as severely as possible."
"That wasn't..." she started, before abruptly cutting herself off. "I have little desire to sit here and listen to you recount what you think you heard. If you continue talking, I will leave - whether you're healed or not."
"I meant no offense. On the contrary, it was very perceptive of you to notice how much I intimidated the Einherjar who was charged with flogging me. He would have left slack in his whip if Thor wouldn't have been watching him. Thor was very close to leaving or cancelling the order altogether, but you - you convinced him he was fulfilling his foundational duties as future king of Asgard just by bearing witness to my punishment. It was a smart move - perhaps something I would have done if I had been in your position."
She rewetted the cloth and violently pressed it into the biggest open wound in his back. He cried out; water flowed freely from his eyes. However, the moment he regained his breath, a chuckle escaped his throat. "I meant it as a compliment," he said in a deep groan.
"Will you shut up?"
He turned his head and rested his cheek on the bench, looking back at her as much as he could from this angle. "Maybe you could clarify your intentions by telling me exactly when it was that I lost your trust. It was well before the events on Earth. We used to be close."
"Loki..." she started lowly before he interrupted.
"Was it the incident involving your hair? I worked so hard to make that up to you..."
"Must you always play games?" she asked loudly in exasperation."If it weren't for your brother's mercy, you would have lost your head today; I had nothing to do with that decision."
He scoffed, "Oh? But I enjoy games, don't you?" The pitch and volume of his voice dropped with these words. "The last game I played was on Earth and that worked out fairly well for me."
She abruptly stopped what she was doing and looked witheringly down at him. His eyes were fixed on a distant point, and through his mask, she could see that his vicious smile had returned. "What do you mean?" She knew asking the question would only feed into whatever ploy he was currently running; the mask he wore did not tame his wicked tongue. "I would hardly consider your current position ideal."
" I am back in Asgard. Whether I returned as a conquering enemy or a conquered one, my ultimate objective was to return."
"Why? What would make you so eager to return that you would be willing to submit to eternal imprisonment? You don't expect to be forgiven and pardoned with all that you've done..."
"Lovely Sif," he said with a light laugh, "I can't divulge all of my secrets."
Her brow wrinkled in worry. She had never been able to read him very well, even when they were children. When he had begun dabbling in trickery, schemes, and lies, this became even more difficult, and she couldn't begin to guess the motivations behind his actions. He had to know that she would run right to Thor with her suspicions about what he'd just said, which begged the question of whether he was only saying this to elicit an angry reaction from her or create paranoia.
She scoffed and shook her head, resuming her work. The stones she brought were easily crushed in her hands. She loosened her grip, allowing the dust to fall to the torn flesh on his back. A glow of green and yellow light could be seen clearly in the dark cell. It hurt him maddeningly at first, especially when she began rubbing the small fragments over his skin. As quickly as the pain appeared, it vanished. His breathing became slower and deeper; she wondered if he had fallen asleep.
When she was finished, he was left with several discernible scars. However, the wounds had all closed as they were supposed to, free from debris and infection. She wiped the dust from her hands and began to gather her things, but in a last minute decision, and as a favor to the boy she used to play with as a child, she did not secure his shackles.
"I may not be able guess what your plan is, Loki, but know that I will be watching you carefully. You will not get another chance to hurt the Allfather, Thor, or those who have cared for you again."
He chortled once in reaction to her statement, but did not open his closed eyes. She left and closed the cell quietly, allowing him some rest after his appointment with the whip - most likely the last restful moment he would enjoy during his stay in Asgard's prison.