Chapter Text
One could say Loki was resigned.
Though he would never admit it, he was just as much under a spell as that archer had been, trapped in a web of lies and false promises. He too, had had that voice removed from the back of his head, and he desperately wished to have it back, so maybe he could feel something again. That white hot anger had been more of a comfort, more fulfilling than the cold apathy Loki had been left with.
But how could he admit to it now? He was gagged, and any day now expected a more permanent resolution, perhaps from Thor.
But more so, why? The Æsir would be no more sympathetic. By letting go and falling into the abyss, he had let this happen to himself. If it was even true, the words he spoke. One could never be sure with the Liesmith.
So Loki anguished and waited.
And after three days of waiting, he met his answer.
Loki wasn't sure how early it was when he was awoken. "Dress." A guard's rough voice ordered through the door, and then the wooden slot where Loki could see blue eyes was shut. A bundle of cloth lay at the foot of his cot. He pulled it apart, scoffing.
The Allfather had given the dignity of wearing his own colors, and nothing more. The slacks were plain and the shirt was loose. Peasant clothes. Nothing befitting the man Loki had been raised to be, but perhaps deserving of the monster he and his blood had made of him.
As soon as Loki was dressed, the door opened all the way, and the guards stomped in, grabbing Loki by his upper arms and dragging him out. Loki laughed. "You could at least give me a little dignity and let me walk myself," he said.
"You will be seeing no dignity today," the guard returned with a smirk, "So I daresay giving you a taste of it would be cruel."
They dragged him out into the main square of the city of Asgard, forcing him to his knees on the stone. Gathered at a safe distance, the Æsir called for his blood.
Heimdall stands near Loki, not looking at him.
And riding into the square on two white horses came the Allfather and his br—Thor. Odin dismounted, as did Thor, but Thor stood by his steed, while the Allfather advanced on Loki. "Loki... Odinson," the Allfather said, ignoring Loki's grimace at his false name, "we have gathered here today to lay out your sentence."
The crowded fell into a hush, eager to hear the trickster's punishment. (This was, after all, the show of the millenium.) This was a man who had so well humiliated them in front of the nine realms. "Firstly, your lips shall be sewn shut by Thor, and I, Odin Allfather shall bind your magic, leaving you defenseless." The crowd cheered.
"And finally, in your weakened state, you will be left to the mercy of those you wronged on Midgard," the Allfather finished, and Loki's stomach dropped. This was far worse than he'd thought to expect... What was Odin thinking? The Midgardians were not only furious of the damage he had done, but oh, Loki understood how people worked. In the end, he and Thor had burnished something else upon these people, a simmering, angry resentment.
Even to the Æsir, Loki knew he and his brother had always made rather overwhelming company, and had thus taken to a close group of friends in childhood—but on Midgard, they had been the inherent perfect in anatomy the humans craved—immortality, strength, magic... With Thor, they could swallow their pride and accept his services. Oh, but with him, with Loki... that resentment they brewed toward the race he pretended to be could very well he the end of him.
Of course, Loki didn't spew his doubts. He'd made it very clear throughout his life, and alarmingly increasingly as of late—that he and his words could not be taken as truth. "Bring the needle and thread!" Odin called, and the guards pressed their heavy, sinuous hands to his shoulders, forcing Loki to his knees, and then bending his back, so his face and his chest faced the sky.
A page bowed to Odin, presenting the Allfather with a little ornate box. Odin opened the box, handing the thread and needle to Thor. "Any last words, Loki Odinson?" The Allfather asked.
"I thought those were for the warriors and the damned," Loki said. Odin grimaced, but the moment was past, as Thor knelt over Loki, positioning himself on the trickster's chest. In his close proximity to his broth—Thor, Loki could see Thor's hands trembling. Thor threaded the needle, putting on his brave face, a mask of indignation.
The silent apology clung to Thor's lips, the needle pressing into the sensitive skin of his lips. And then, Thor finally took the dive, pressing the needle through the flesh, and for a moment, Loki's body exploded in pain, his limbs quivering under Thor's legs, his eyes giving away a huge expression of fear. But Loki swallowed his fear. As easy as it was to forget in all this intensity, the Æsir were watching, and maybe in some far off part of his conscious, he was recognizing their jeers.
Thor couldn't make this last any longer, it was evident. He rushed through the job, blood coating his fingers and coating the thread in red, and finally, his big, clumsy fingers tied of the knot. It was over for him, but for Loki, it had only begun.
"And I, Odin Allfather, officially and formally banish Loki Odinson from Asgard." Heimdall stepped forward, and with the Tesseract sent Loki away.
"Director Fury, we got some huge energy scans a couple of minutes ago from the Bifrӧst site in Arizona," a blonde haired intern said quickly as she threw the door to Fury's office open, unannounced.
"Now, you just say that again," Fury said, sounding calculatingly calm.
The woman took a moment to catch her breath, before saying slowly, "Director Fury, we just picked up very unusually elevated energy readings from the Bifrӧst site in Arizona. We've only gotten this kind before when somebody came through."
"Then send somebody out there!"
"What?"
"Now!"
"Oh. This is good," an unfamiliar voice said, and it was the only thing Loki registered before he again fell unconscious.