Loki is tired as he walks through central park, wearing cuffs, chains and the metal gag. Thor has a strong grip on his bicep as they move towards the centre of the park.
Taking in everything around him, he sees that they are escorted by guards. They try to be inconspicuous but Loki can spot them from a mile away. He feels the gravel crunching underneath his leather clad feet. The rest of the avengers are waiting for them. Most of them have a hand on their weapon, not necessarily threatening but ready in case he tries to make a move. Stark and Banner are holding a case between them. His eyes scan the taller man's form. He looks deceptively harmless. Something that dangerous should not be able to hide in someone so small. Even for a shapeshifter, normally it's a daunting task to shift into a form so much bigger than their base. Loki had always been incredibly gifted shifting into forms much bigger than his own. Then again, the Vanir have been masters of magic far longer than Asgard pretends to be.
He and Thor finally reach the group of Midgardians, the archer makes sure to catch his eye and show off his weapon, the threat very clear: move and I'll gladly shoot you. The cuffs around his wrists burn as his magic instinctively rises to protect him from the perceived threat. In contrast the gag in his mouth is icy cold. Conflicting his senses he almost misses Stark and Banner moving to open the case. Blue light illuminates their faces as the Tesseract is revealed. The cube is seemingly restrained by the glass and metal construction around it. He wonders why they're here when he spots the handles on the casing. Are they planning to use it? These mortals are a lot craftier than he first thought. With the Bifrost apparently still broken and Thor letting slip that the Allfather had used dark powers to send him here in the first place, using the tesseract is a logical idea if entirely dangerous.
Loki stands in the centre, his posture relaxed, but his mind in turmoil. He had spent centuries deceiving, manipulating, and scheming, but now, as he watches Thor prepare to leave this realm, something foreign stirs inside him—a feeling he can't quite name. The Avengers stand at a distance, exchanging casual goodbyes, offering warmth and camaraderie to Thor that Loki would never know. To them, Thor was a hero, a friend. To Loki, they were nothing more than tools, pawns in the game of power that he had mastered long ago. And yet you lost, for you yourself are but a pawn. He can't stop the smirk at the words echoing through his head, the metal of the gag pulling on his lips. Even damaged and with access to only a fraction of his might he had managed to direct the play. After all, losing a battle doesn't mean losing the war.
He can feel the shift in the air as Thor's eyes briefly meet his. There is no affection there, no trust. Only the remnants of what had once been. Loki wants to speak, wants to tell his brother that everything—everything—he has done was for a reason, but trying only serves to tighten the gag. The words are trapped inside him. He wonders if they'll ever come out.
Loki moves to grab the handle, the group around him is seemingly fine with his movement, yet he can still see the hidden guards tense and aim their weapons at him. The tesseract so close to him is maddening, it reaches out to bis magic and restrained as it is, his magic tries to reach back. The cuffs around his wrists seem to heat up even more, nearly scalding his skin. It takes him a moment to figure out why the tesseract seems so familiar. The void. It feels entirely too much like the void and yet it is completely different. He is caught off-guard by the sudden movement of the case as Thor twists the handle in he is holding and the tesseract explodes. Blue swirls around them, not necessarily a portal, more like a tunnel of light as they move through the realms at near impossible speeds. It feels like an eternity but it is over in a flash.
Loki stumbles and he is forced to release the handle of the casing in order to remain on his feet. He takes a second to breathe and feels the magic of Asgard welcome him. He tries to connect with the realm he still loves dearly but the burning of his wrists force him back to reality. He winces as he feels the blisters start to form underneath the burning metal. He reins in his magic and feels the cuffs cool instantly. Before he has a chance to get his bearings strong hands grab his arms and pull him up. He recognises the insignia on the man's clothes. The Einjehar. Odin has sent Asgard's strongest soldiers to guard him. A quick look around shows him not only the Einjehar but also a few of the Allfather's personal guard. He will be getting the royal treatment it seems.
He notices Heimdall watching from a short distance away. The golden eyes staring into his before moving to scan over Thor's form where he converses with one of the guards. The ever silent watcher, tasked with protecting the nine realms from danger. Yet unable to see Loki when he was trapped in the void and under the care of Thanos. Unable? Or Unwilling? The voice in his head is loud once more and he struggles to push it away. Those thoughts are not his own. Or at least they were not his own in the beginning. Ever has Heimdall disliked Loki, seemingly without cause. Then again, Loki supposes that having to pretend that the son born of an enemy princess is worth something is cause enough.
Suddenly he is pulled from his thoughts as he is hauled up, and before he can blink he is seated on the back of a horse. The guards tie his hands to the saddle. Thor is already seated at the front of the group, talking with one of Fath- Odin's personal guard. The party starts moving towards the palace at a decently fast pace. To his surprise they veer off the direct route to the palace. It seems Odin has no wish to parade him through the city. He wonders if Odin is ashamed, not wanting his people to see his disgraced… well… son isn't the right word anymore is it? He is a nothing more than a spoil of war. A weapon.
As they move towards the palace the guards are surprisingly nice to him. He is after all a disgraced prince returning from failing to conquer a planet, one under Asgards protection. Not to mention destroying the Bifrost, ruining Thor's coronation and nearly destroying Jotunheim in the process. He may have been their commanding officer but he had not thought he'd command their respect still.
They cross the countryside at a steady pace. Despite its powerful position in the nine realms Asgard is not a big realm. It takes but a few days to move from one side to the other. The realm is unique in its existence, no-one knows how Asgard survived the collapse of its core, turning it from just another realm into the flat disk it is today. It took Bor centuries to convince the realms that it was not the first sign of Ragnarök. He knows that even now the Vanir view Asgard with suspicion. One of the reasons his mothe- Frigg- his mother is often asked to return to Vanaheim. Not the main reason though, but Odin is loathe to allow his stolen bride to return home.
The palace looms above them as they enter not through the front doors as he expected, but through the side gate, normally reserved for suppliers and returning patrols. A door meant to be used when one wishes to be discreet. They saunter into one of the courtyards, the surrounding soldiers dismounting their horses, to be led away by the stableboys. One of the soldiers walks up to Loki, and unbinds his hands from the saddle. With his hands 'free' the soldier helps him down with dignity. Loki meets their eyes and nods in thanks, after all there is no sense in being impolite. As they walk through the halls of the palace, most of the guards seem to disappear into side corridors. Leaving the core of the group to escort him as he follows behind Thor. The halls are a familiar comfort after the horrors he experienced outside the nine realms.
Walking through the corridors he notices there are but a few people around, most of them servants who seems surprisingly happy to see him before they notice the chains. They are quick to move aside for the procession containing the prince long thought dead. It takes a few moments to recognise the halls for what they are but soon he understands where they are going. He is being led to the judgement hall. Of course. That is to be his fate then, judged by the councillors. Men and women he used to outrank, all but a few entirely beholden to their king. He would have no support, and if Odin gets his way, no way to defend himself.
Loki is led through the grand doors of the council hall, his chains clinking softly with each step. The room is bathed in golden light streaming through the high windows, casting long shadows across the ornate chamber. At the far end of the hall, Odin sits on his throne, his presence as imposing as ever. The Allfather's one eye locks onto Loki, a mixture of disappointment and steely resolve etched into his weathered features. Beside him stands Frigga- his mother, her face a mask of calm, though her eyes betray a storm of emotions he can't quite figure out.
The councillors are already seated in their usual places, their murmurs filling the air like the rustle of dry leaves. Loki can feel their gazes on him, sharp and assessing. Though they had never been fond of him, their respect had always been begrudgingly given. Even now, he can sense a few of them weighing his deeds against his potential, their calculations visible in their furrowed brows.
He is brought forward by the guards, his mouth still bound by the gleaming metal gag. The councillors exchange uneasy glances, and one of them finally addresses Odin. "Allfather, might we at least hear his reasons? His actions, while severe, may carry a context we do not yet know."
Odin's voice is cold and unyielding. "There will be no justifications. His deeds speak for themselves. The council does not require his words to deliberate."
The councillor sits back, visibly dissatisfied but unwilling to press further. Loki's eyes narrow slightly, though he remains outwardly composed. Beneath his calm exterior, frustration simmers. It is as he thought, he cannot defend himself, cannot explain his action or the reasons behind them. He cannot speak of the looming threat of Thanos. He is left entirely at the mercy of others.
The murmurs die down as Odin rises to speak, his voice carrying the weight of his power. "Loki, son of Odin, you stand accused of grievous crimes against Asgard and the realms beyond. You sought to conquer Midgard, attacked Jotunheim, raised your hand against your brother, and refused arrest."
The hall is silent save for the echo of Odin's voice. Loki keeps his head high, refusing to show any sign of weakness. Yet his hands, bound in cuffs that still burn faintly against his skin, clench involuntarily. He can feel the magic within him, desperate to lash out, to defend, but the restraints hold firm.
"For these crimes," Odin continues, "I propose the ultimate punishment: death." His words fall like a hammer, reverberating through the chamber. Loki's breath hitches for the briefest moment, but he forces his expression to remain neutral. Odin wishes him dead then.
Frigga steps forward, her voice calm but unwavering. "My king," she begins, her tone measured, "may I ask that the council consider a lesser punishment? Life imprisonment, perhaps. Death would be a waste of a mind as brilliant as his."
The councillors shift uncomfortably, their glances darting between Odin and Frigga. Murmurs rise again, this time louder and more charged. To Loki's surprise, many of the murmurs seem to be in his favour. One of the older councillors stands, his deep voice cutting through the noise.
"Attempting to conquer Midgard and attacking Jotunheim are hardly crimes in the eyes of Asgard," the man says. "Thor himself has done much the same, as have you, Allfather, in your youth. These are acts of ambition, not treason."
Another councillor rises, nodding in agreement. "Indeed, Loki's actions in Jotunheim might even be considered beneficial. The Frost Giants have long been a threat to Asgard. If anything, his only true crimes are striking against Thor and resisting arrest."
Loki blinks, unable to mask his surprise entirely. This is not what he expected. To hear his deeds justified—even praised—was disorienting. He glances at Frigga, who meets his eyes with the faintest hint of a reassuring smile.
Odin's jaw tightens, but he does not interrupt as the councillors continue their deliberation. After what feels like an eternity, the head of the council stands and addresses the room. "It is the decision of this council that Loki's punishment shall not be death. Instead, he will be placed under house arrest. His magic will remain bound until his sentence is completed. He will fulfil his duties as general of the Asgardian army and master strategist of Asgard, though the chains on his magic may serve as a constant reminder of his confinement."
While this was a fate far from ideal, Loki can't entirely quell a flicker of gratitude as he realises that, despite everything, the council still regards him not as a prisoner or a servant but as a prince and a general—an equal among Asgard's leaders, trusted to guide its future.
A murmur of approval sweeps through the chamber, though Odin's expression remains stony.
Odin's voice cuts through his thoughts. "So be it." He sits heavily back on his throne, his gaze never leaving Loki. "Guards, escort him to his chambers. Ensure the bindings remain intact."
As Loki is led away, he steals one last glance at the council. Frigga's eyes follow him, her concern palpable. Odin's gaze is unreadable, a fortress of judgment. The councillors whisper amongst themselves, some nodding in approval, others clearly dissatisfied.
For Loki, the trial has ended. But the war—both within Asgard's borders and outside them—is far from over.