Author's note: Alright, here we go, first epilogue out of three! ^^

He's standing on the landing outside his chambers, one hand resting on the balustrade as he enjoys the cool breath of the evening air on his face. The gleaming city spreading out below makes for a magnificent view, reaching to the horizon and beyond. But it's not the city he's looking at, but the velvety sky above, painted with the bright red and orange hues of the setting sun. Somewhere beyond that sky, beyond the pinprick stars, beyond the void that fills the space between the branches of Yggdrasil, is his youngest son. In the realm of the mortals, Midgard.

He draws a heavy sigh; sometimes he's truly feeling his years all the way to his bones. And that's when he wonders, yet again, if it might soon be time to consider relinquishing the throne and the crown to Thor, to bestow upon him the burden of kingship that has been awaiting him for so many centuries. Still, he is reluctant; being a king is not easy and the weight of that position can be heavy indeed, something he has known all too well since that day when Thor returned to Asgard with Loki in chains.

It had been a trying time full of sorrow and hardship. Loki's crimes were both great and numerous, against Asgard as well as against Midgard, and the true extent of them only became disturbingly clearer as his trial progressed. And of course, should a member of the royal family be put on trial for crimes of this magnitude, the laws of Asgard were clear, as some members in the Council had been quick to point out to him. For once, the Allfather, the King himself, did not have the right of sentencing, but the Council was to decide upon the punishment. An old law, from the time of their old ancestors, instituted to make sure there would be no bias or favouritism extended from a King to an accused family member, no undeserved leniency granted because of kinship.

And he knew full well that there was only one punishment that Asgardian law considered fit for crimes of that enormity. Execution. Death. He had known it from the first day of the trial, and there could be no way around it. The Council members all agreed. Nothing but execution would be enough to pay for such heinous acts.

So he had sat there and listened, as they talked about the execution of his youngest son, how it was the only viable alternative. Even so, he had tried to argue for the option of imprisonment, but no one had been in favour of it. Loki is unrepentant, so the argument had gone. He has shown no remorse for his actions – you all heard him during the trial. You all saw the hate and hostility burning inside of him. What if he were to break free of his imprisonment and wreak similar destruction upon the realms once more? We cannot risk it, the stakes are too high.

In some of the faces around him, there was sympathy hidden beneath the grave expressions, but nonetheless a firm conviction that imprisonment would not do. Loki was unrepentant, and his crimes too great. No leniency could possibly be given. Such was their reasoning, even if it saddened them to have to sentence the son of the Allfather to execution.

But not everyone. Some were positively gloating, as much as they tried to hide it. Those who did not have justice or the safety of the realms at the forefront in their minds, those who merely held a grudge against Loki for all the mischief and trouble he had caused them over the centuries, all the embarrassment and anger he had made them suffer. They would finally have their revenge and were only glad and eager to sentence his son to death as they pretended concern, even if he could easily see through the fake façades.

Of course, whatever the reasons, they didn't truly matter – Asgard's laws were clear enough on what punishment was stipulated. Execution. And yet, he was still desperately searching for a loophole, something that could sway the Council to vote for a more lenient sentencing. Something that might save Loki from certain death.

And then the idea came to him, loathsome as it was. It was a punishment not often in use anymore, but more common in the days of old. And certainly, it had never before been passed on someone of royal blood. Not only was the concept detestable, to have his son turned into a slave, but also the knowledge that he would have to seek support for his suggestions from those who most eagerly craved Loki's death, those who cared not primarily for justice but for revenge. Those who wanted to see him suffer. But he knew he had no choice. And so, he had put forth his suggestion before the Council – slavery to one of the Midgardians Loki had wronged most grievously. Poetic justice.

Of course, he knew what none of the others did. Those others, who had not been to Midgard in many centuries, perhaps never even set their foot there, those who did not have ravens to come sit on their shoulders every evening to tell them of what had transpired in the Nine Realms. They did not know – there was no longer such a thing as slavery in the mortal realm, the humans having abandoned those old customs in favour for another kind of society altogether.

Perhaps that would be Loki's saving grace. Perhaps he could trust the humans to show his son some of the mercy and compassion that was so inherent to their kind, to not treat him too harshly, despite all he had done. That was what he hoped, at least. Slavery was not an easy sentence, not even under the comparatively lenient circumstances he was hoping would be awaiting Loki on Midgard.

As expected, some Council members were horrified and disgusted – those who wanted justice and not revenge – as he laid out his suggestion, as impassionedly as he could manage. It would not do if they thought he was taking Loki's side or came off as a concerned father who was only trying to save his son. Then he would never have gotten the support he sought if they thought he was doing this for Loki's sake. No, instead he had to play the part of the infuriated and disappointed king and father, angry enough with the son who had so greatly shamed his family and all of Asgard to want the worst outcome for him. To truly have him punished in the harshest possible way.

And oh, how he had seen the faces of some of the Council light up at the prospect of making Loki a slave, and all it entailed. They almost rubbed their hands together with glee as the idea was proposed, their previous concerns about Loki escaping and doing perhaps even worse suddenly evaporating into nothing.

Those members constituted perhaps half of the Council. In the faces of the other half, however, he could see disgust and disbelief at this idea. And he knew he had disappointed them in showing such cruelty and callousness in regards to his own son. Clearly, he had lost esteem and standing among them by even suggesting such a sentence. But it was worth it, any chance that might save Loki's life would be worth it, no matter what it would cost him. He did not care.

There was a heated debate going on for many days about the merits of executions versus imprisonment, but eventually, all the arguments had been spoken and counter-spoken, and so they voted.

It came out even. Half in favour of execution, half of slavery in Midgard. Normally, a full Council would mean an uneven number of votes, but this time, Asgardian law did not allow the Allfather his usual vote, due to kinship to the accused.

In the end, they had to seek out Frey, the stand-in who was not yet fully on the Council, but would still be called upon when not all members could be in attendance and they needed a deciding vote. And so, he had stood before Frey, explaining to the young Lord what the situation was, telling him about the two alternatives and the even number of votes. How the law stipulated death, but he had suggested slavery on Midgard as a possible alternative.

As his account came to an end, Frey was arching one eyebrow, giving him a long, measured look. You would have your own son sentenced to slavery, Allfather? hesaid, an undercurrent of both disapproval and disbelief in his voice.

And all his fears came roaring up inside of him at that – clearly, Frey was not in favour of what he considered too cruel a sentencing, he would vote for execution instead. His well-laid plans were coming apart, making all his efforts amount to nothing. But this was his – Loki's – last chance. He had to throw caution to the wind; there was nothing left to lose.

So he leaned close to Frey's ear, disguising it as a casual movement while pretending to rub a hand over his beard to hide the movements of his lips, and quickly, quietly whispered so that no one else could hear, there is no such thing as slavery in Midgard anymore.

There was a fleeting look of confusion on Frey's face as he wrinkled his forehead in bewilderment, but it disappeared as quickly as it had come, and there was no longer any emotion to be read in that face. I see, then, was all he said, neutrally and impassively.

They had voted again. The result was the same as before, but with one added vote in favour of slavery.

And so, to the chagrin of some, and the joy of others, it was settled, and the only thing left to decide was who should be appointed as Loki's master. It would have to be one of the Avengers, since they had all been wronged by his deeds and were powerful enough to be trusted to keep Loki in check.

Of the Midgardian heroes, no one knew more than what Thor had told them. But Odin had his ravens, his trustworthy and dependable Huginnn and Muninn. And so, he had sent them out to the realm of the humans, telling them to gather as much information as they possibly could about every one of them. And in the evenings, they returned to sit on his shoulder to tell him their stories, while he listened intently.

It soon became clear that there was only one viable choice. The assassins would probably have Loki killed, either sooner or later. The unassuming healer would not, but the same could not be said for his berserker self. The soldier might have been a good choice, but would be unlikely to accept Loki as his slave in the first place, thereby ruining his carefully laid plans.

That only left the Man of Iron, also knows as Tony Stark. The ravens told him all about the Midgardian – he was vain, self-absorbed, reckless, and many other things as well, but that was not all he was. There were other qualities too, enough to make him dare to hope that Loki would not have to suffer so terribly under him. Yes, it would have to be Tony Stark.

None of the council members had much to add or detract to that suggestion, since they knew little of the mortal heroes, having never met any of them. To them, it mattered little who was chosen – the outcome would be the same.

Reading out the sentence in court had to be the most difficult thing he had ever done, acting like this was all sanctioned by the King and the Allfather himself, even going as far as denouncing his son by addressing him as 'Layfeyson'. But he kept his unperturbed and callous mask firmly in place, never letting it slip for even a second – if anyone suspected what he was trying to achieve, that he was working to get Loki off as easy as he could… But, to his relief, no one said anything.

He knew his son would surely hate him for this, but at least it would mean he would be alive to do that. Still, the Council had also decided Loki should be offered a choice – death, if he preferred it. The half of the Council that had voted for execution, along with Frey, had agreed on that, and they were one vote in favour over those eager to see Loki made to suffer as a lowly slave. And to his immense relief, Loki had chosen to live as opposed to dying.

And so, Loki was sent off to Midgard, two lies accompanying him. The first that an escape attempt would mean a long and torturous execution. It would not; the execution would be swift, but the Council members had thought that such a threat might serve to dissuade Loki from any thoughts of trying to escape and wreaking havoc again. The second one was the subtle threat delivered to the Man of Iron from the Einherjer guards – accept this man as your slave, by order of the Allfather, or suffer the consequences.

Of course, there were no consequences to suffer; Odin knew he held no authority on Midgard. But he could always act as if he did, because if Midgard would not accept Loki as recompense, the Einherjers would have to take him back to be executed instead. It was an ugly, underhanded tactic, but he could not afford having Tony Stark refuse. He was Loki's last chance, after all.

And so began a long and arduous wait. He never asked Heimdall what was happening or how his son was faring, as to not arouse suspicion by being seen caring for the convicted son that he had so callously cast off and denounced. Someone might see through his ruse and realize why he had wanted to send Loki off to his current fate. Heimdall might be loyal, but the Council had ears and eyes everywhere, something he had quickly learned during all the millennia as King. Not even Thor he dared to ask much as he returned from Midgard, in case the wrong words would make it to the wrong people.

But no one understood his ravens or the words they spoke to him, uttered in a strange and arcane language, undecipherable to the untrained ears of the other Aesir.

So he sent Huginn and Muninn out, day after day, always with the same destination, and they always returned with the same answer – Loki had not left Tony Stark's tower; hence, they could not see him and tell how he was faring. The windows of that strange building were all blackened from the outside and could not be seen through.

Then, one day, Muninn came back and told him he had seen Loki and Man of Iron walking in a park together. Loki did not appear to have been harmed, nor did he seem to even be afraid of his master. His relief had been immeasurable at that – his judgement and faith in the Midgardian had proved correct.

But before that, Thor had requested an audience on behalf of Man of Iron to plead Loki's case in court and ask for leniency. The Council had been called together to confer – the decision was in their hands, just like Loki's original sentencing had been.

And eventually, a decision was reached. If the mortal would come here to speak on Midgard's behalf, and if Loki showed himself repentant, then leniency would be considered. Again, it was the execution-favouring half of the Council, plus Frey, who had voted in favour of that. The rest had voted against.

It was a game of chance to be sure – perhaps Loki had not changed a bit, maybe he would only doom himself by speaking in court and set his own sentence in stone, but it was at least a chance. Perhaps the only one he would get.

In a way, it felt almost farcical sitting there asking the questions during the hearing, as Tony Stark stood in the throne room to plead Loki's case. Despite what it looked like, he had no say in this, this was all in the hands of the Council. But Asgard was always very adamant about showing a strong, united front, both internally and externally – and the King was the most important symbol of Asgard's power, its central figurehead. The facade that the Allfather's word was always the law must be upheld, especially to foreign visitors, so he played the part.

Of course, there was a truth geas in effect during the hearing. That way, they would know if Tony Stark was telling the truth with his claims that Midgard – the realm mostly wronged by Loki's actions – considered the punishment too harsh. However, mot importantly, the geas was there because of Loki.

And to his utter amazement, Loki had shown repentance on that day, expressed true regret for his actions. Unlike what everyone had believed would be possible, Loki had shown honest remorse. Odin could hardly believe his ears – the burning hate and the all-encompassing anger, the viciousness that had been consuming his son during the days of his trial were gone. And gone was also the snarling creature that had once been dragged into the courtroom, spitting curses and insults and vitriol and wishing doom upon all of Asgard. Instead, there was his son, somehow, impossibly back.

And the Council decided – Loki should be shown leniency, their votes falling as before, one in favour. The Man of Iron had spoken of amends, so they had settled on that, along with two further years spent as a slave. Two years, and Loki would be free again, even if his powers and magic would only return to him gradually.

Even now, he can hardly believe it.

There are suddenly soft footfalls interrupting his thoughts, and he turns around.

"Good evening," he says to the approaching figure. "I have not seen you today; it would seem you have been away."

Frigga walks up to him and takes him by the arm, joining him in watching the sky stretching out before them. "I had an errand to run," she replies evenly. "The sky is beautiful tonight."

He hums in agreement, not pushing the subject further. Of course, he knows exactly what she has done, that she has secretly visited their son in Midgard, despite how it's not allowed. But he says nothing. It amuses him, how she still thinks that after all these millennia, she can keep secrets from him.

"I wish Loki were here to enjoy the sunset with us. But I'm glad he will be, some day," she says, leaning into him. Then she continues, voice softer. "The Council judged wisely, thanks to your… guidance." The hand on his arm squeezes a little tighter.

And that's when he realizes – she knows. Not that he's sure how she's figured it all out, but she somehow did. He can't help but smile – perhaps he should know better, too, after all these millennia, than to think that he can keep secrets from her.

He puts his arm around his wife's waist, pulling her close. "Our son will return to us, one day."

In fact, he thinks that their son has already been returned to them, even if he's still in Midgard.

Well, let's just say I've been waiting for a looong time to post this part of the epilogue. Even since before it was actually written. ;)

Kudos to Potkanka for calling, like, every darn single thing in this chapter. ;)

Please review. :)