Chapter Twelve

Words of Warning

Odin could not quite remember when Time had begun its vicious onslaught on his youth. Centuries had blended into one another, now passing glimpses as fast as a second, filled with vague memories of hunting, battles, family and friends. Long had Iðunn's apples ceased to have affect upon his aging physique, no potions or balms could flatten the canyons of age scouring his face or the bleaching of his hair. He could barely make it a week without feeling the sirens call of the Odin sleep.

Most of his life had long withdrawn into the murky quagmire of impaired memory. Yet Odin found himself unable to forget a handful of events, their rendering in his mind as clear as if they had occurred only the day before. The birth and death of his eldest son Baldur; the arrival of Thor after decades of mourning; and finally, the day he had encountered the tiny infant abandoned in Laufey's temple. Odin did not know why he had reached for the boy. He was a frost giant, the unwanted spawn of his enemy. Yet there was something about that plump blob of azure flesh that had melted him. Even as he had cradled the boy in his arms, the blue had faded to a soft Aesir pink; irises melting to an emerald as vibrant as the fields surrounding Odin's country estate. He had won a great victory that day, but more importantly, he had gained a son.

As Odin's years slipped by, he watched his as his sons grew, his eyes ever trained on his Loki. While Thor became the archetypal Aesir, Loki was a mystery to Odin. He was a keen fighter, the only in Asgard able to rival Thor in the duelling yards, but his interest in the art of magic was a concern. As a boy, Loki had preferred the company of books to people. As he grew, he earned himself a reputation for trouble: especially when it came to the bedding of women. Odin heard the rumours, though he chose to let his son's lascivious actions pass. Let him have his fun. That was all it was: fun. The mischief was fun. The magic was fun.

It had long since surpassed fun.

Now, hunched in the golden expanse of his throne, Odin found himself confronted with the ramifications of his actions. Had he informed Loki of his true parentage at the beginning, would he have reacted as violently? Would he have turned his back on his family, his home, and declared a war he could not possibly win?

"Did you inform Doctor Selvig of the nature of Loki's punishment?" His voice was tainted by exhaustion, but Odin was pleased that it still carried some resonance.

Thor looked notably uncomfortable at this, eyes trained on the ground.

"Eric Selvig is not of Asgard, and therefore not bound by our laws. The hatred for Loki runs deep on Midgard."

"Doctor Selvig was enslaved by Loki, was he not?" Frigga's voice was like a cool balm to Odin's nerves. In the past, he may have scolded her for the interruption, but in this moment he was happy to hand over the reins.

Thor nodded. "Indeed, mother."

"Do you believe he will seek vengeance upon Loki again?"

"I believe he will." Thor cleared his throat. "Eric Selvig shares the views of those known as S.H.I.E.L.D: that Loki's punishment is not harsh enough."

Odin was well aware of this fact. He had known it from the moment Agent Alexandra Beckett had glanced at his throne, eyes wide, when the sentence had been given. The fear evident in her gaze was enough to chill him. Mortal though she was; her pale hair and grey eyes reminded him of Frigga in the height of her youth. He felt a strange compulsion to protect the girl. And so he had agreed to hand Loki over to the Midgardians after a year, knowing full well that once his youngest left Asgard, he may never lay eyes on him again.

"We cannot allow Doctor Selvig to place himself in danger every night seeking out this vengeance," Frigga replied, placing her hand on Odin's shoulder. "Perhaps temporary arrangements should be made?"

Thor frowned. "You cannot mean to continue Loki's imprisonment into the night?"

Frigga lips started to move, but Odin lifted his hand. Silence reigned a few seconds before his scoured voice filled the hall.

"It is necessary, Thor. Even if we post guards outside his quarters, Loki has knowledge of the secrets ways of this palace. It will not hold him. The punishment must be extended."

Frigga moved her hand away now, looking with horror at her husband. "But at night he is in danger. We cannot leave him out there alone. Surely this Eric Selvig...!"

"Guards will be posted with him, my wife. Loki is no longer a boy. We must not coddle him. He is being punished. If Selvig desires his vengeance, then it shall be on our terms, not his own."

"So you will let him be beaten senseless every night?"

Thor's eyes met Odin's briefly, before darting to his mother. "My brother is responsible for atrocities on Midgard worse than you can imagine, mother. He deserves the punishment, even if it is painful for us all."

oOoOoOo

The blows of the Midgardian scientist were feeble at best, and even as the fresh glow of morning filled his courtyard, Loki could feel the injuries healing. The cut lip and swollen eye had, however, been inconvenient. The courtyard thrummed with activity. Inebriated nobles, fresh from the party still raging in the bowels of the palace, had spent their morning soaking in rumours. Some had been told that the impact of Selvig's fists had wiped away the fake veneer of Aesir flesh, rendering the traitor prince the monster he reputedly was. Others had heard tales of stabbing, mutilation, eye gouging and dismemberment. Of course, the truth was disappointing, but fuelled by mead and wine; the nobles started a fresh onslaught on the prince. One particularly red-faced lord called for a whip from the stables, slashing the flesh upon Loki's back to the amusement of his fellows.

By the call of the midday bell, the pain was so severe that Loki did not notice the arrival of Thor. His eyes opened only when Mjolnir was dropped by his knees.

"Your punishment has been extended into the night, brother. Temporarily, while Eric Selvig still seeks vengeance."

Loki almost rolled his eyes, almost. Vengeance? The pathetic mortal could do nothing more than administer a few cuts and bruises. By keeping him chained and silenced, the All-Father was sentencing him to something much worse: hunger, thirst, uncleanness, celibacy. Thor no doubt thought he was protecting Loki from Selvig, but Loki knew full well that they were actually protecting Selvig and the other mortals from him. Had his mother played a part in this decision? Had she decided that his nightly activities with Alexandra Beckett had gone too far?

Perhaps they had?

In the past, Loki would have long discarded of Alexandra Beckett. The slap had been arousing, but now her defiance was crumbling. The joy of the chase was gone, her compliance almost sickening. He even allowed her words to shred him.

Before the news of his new punishment was brought, Loki had began contemplating undergoing a seduction of the little brunette. Darcy Lewis. The girl seemed to lack moral conviction. Her sizeable assets would perhaps allow him momentary respite. It was evident to him that Miss Lewis had spent the previous night rutting with Fandral, of all people, but seduction of the bint would not be difficult.

But now he did not even have that.

He was robbed of Alexandra, of Darcy, of everything. All because his brother was an idiot.