Chapter Text
For one long, horrible moment, Loki knew he was dead.
He just didn’t know where exactly that left him.
The release of pressure around his neck was a welcome reprieve, but he felt himself shiver, the ghost of the Titan’s grip embedded in his skin, his whole body shuddering, screaming for air, bones crumbling, crackling as he squeezed …
Loki forced his eyes open, and immediately wished he hadn’t.
Dark.
That wasn’t quite right though, was it? No, it wasn’t entirely dark, but awash with bright, entwining clusters, strips of light unfurling in tangled tendrils. For one long, agonizing moment, Loki was back in the Void.
A near hysterical laugh bubbled up in his throat, and he marvelled at the lack of pain.
Of course he never left. All of it, everything, the Titan, Midgard, his brief tenure as King of Asgard, the flames of Ragnarok, it was all some long collection of fever dreams, his mind wandering, hoping to escape the fall that would never end.
Another moment, and Loki immediately squashed that idea. Even his own imagination wouldn’t be cruel enough to conjure Thanos. Or the utter trash heap that was Sakaar. Why would he trade one hell for another?
Perhaps that was where he was headed now. To Helheim. It would make the most amount of sense. Loki closed his eyes against the stray, unbidden thought of Frigga.
He’d never see her again. Or Thor, for that matter.
Unless, of course, he could connive his way into the gates of Valhalla. His silvertongue had to be good for something.
Loki forced himself to relax, resigned to his ultimate destination, and it was only then he he realized he wasn’t falling. Or drifting. He was simply...existing, whatever that meant. Suspended among the stars, or shafts of light. It bounced and swayed, almost playfully, in enchanting shades of ruby, soft gold, glistening emerald, startling purple, slivers of orange dancing through wisps of pale blue.
The blue was perhaps the most familiar, creeping close to his skin, followed shortly by streaks of gold. Loki instinctively tried to pull away, but there wasn’t anywhere to go. He couldn’t move, couldn’t escape. Ordinarily, this would have set him into a small panic, but the colours were distracting. A faint prickling on the edge of silence, and it was almost as if they were whispering, speaking in hushed chimes, the unique frequencies of a series of bells. It was almost a song, albeit a poorly rehearsed one, as they swelled and died in discordant sighs, wavering between music and harsh mutterings.
It made Loki’s skin crawl. He wouldn’t be surprised if all that made it to Helheim was an unfortunate bundle of bones. Ludicrously, it almost made him think of the halls of Asgard, growing up among the harsh grumblings of court, the pointed smirks of Thor’s friends. It was almost a wonder he failed to put the pieces together sooner. Of course he had been different, he was an entirely different species, and Loki pitied his younger self for ever having wasted so many centuries in his pathetic attempts to measure up, to fill a role that wasn’t his. To make the whispers stop. To make it all stop.
You really are the worst brother.
But those were old wounds. Ones he wished could heal, but only kept oozing fresh pools of pus and blood, festering until cracking once more. It was pitiful. Loki snorted inwardly. Death, in many ways, was meant to be an escape, or so he’d thought when he’d first let go. Of course the Norns would see it fitting for his mind to continue to torment itself, hissing and spitting in endless vicious cycles. At least his body had ceased its own form of torture, though Loki didn’t know how long that mercy would last. He was headed for Helheim, after all.
Loki didn’t know how long he was trapped in this luminous prison, hovering between minutes that seemed incalculable, stretching to hours, before shrinking to seconds, but he was beginning to breach the parameters of absolute boredom.
Was this what the Other had meant, Loki wondered quietly, when he promised unimaginable tortures should he fail? To be forever a captive of his own mind? Falling forever, alone, no one to catch him…except...
No no no-
“My son.”
If Loki could, he would have flinched. He knew that voice anywhere, one he didn’t think he’d hear again, and Loki cursed his mind for deciding to begin all too early with the hallucinations. Or was it early? How long exactly had he been-
His thoughts stuttered to a halt, as the coils of light almost huffed in indignation, forced to scatter around the unprecedented intruder. The interloper in their midst. Or the hazy fabrication of Loki’s rapidly deteriorating mind.
Odin almost carried an air of melancholy, wrinkles only deepening as he peered at his stolen relic, almost as if he were holding back a sigh. Of course Loki was a disappointment. Even in death.
I love you, my sons.
Loki wished he could hate the heavy lump steadily forming in his throat. He swallowed thickly.
“Allfather,” and he nearly cursed the croak in his voice, “come to wish me good fortune on my journey to Helheim? Has Valhalla gotten too dull for you?”
“You’re not going to Helheim,” Odin said curtly. Loki frowned, struggling against the delicate ember of hope fighting to catch in his chest. Surely not-
“Valhalla is no place for monsters,” Loki countered quietly. This caused Odin pause. And just like that, Loki felt his stomach fold in on itself, curdling in the face of the Allfather’s silence.
“You are not going to Valhalla,” Odin said slowly, and Loki wanted to carve his own heart out for ever having dared to hope. He should have learned by now. He thought he had.
“Not fit for any realm, I take it,” Loki muttered, wishing his words dripped with more venom. A humourless chuckle hiccuped in his chest, and Loki grinned. “Death is not so different from life, then.” He felt himself slump, smile sliding from his lips, as quickly as it came. He didn’t want to appear defeated in front of Odin, but chances were, he was only a figment anyway. He was just too tired.
“No, Loki,” Odin whispered, and Loki bit back the scream in his throat.
No, Loki.
“Why are you here?” Loki spat, “to remind me of my failings? To admire my new cage?”
Odin only shook his head, what looked to be almost a flicker of regret flashing across his face.
“You are not going to Helheim, or Valhalla, until your judgement has been passed.”
Loki bit back a sigh. Of course.
“The Norns haven’t decided yet?”
Again, Odin shook his head. He always felt the need to meet Loki with denial.
“Not the Norns,” he said softly, “the Infinity Stones have seen fit to hold you in their grasp. Thanos…” Odin closed his remaining eye, almost as if in pain, “The Mad Titan ended your life in their name, two such stones embedded in his gauntlet. More than half of Asgard was already gone to Hela’s ruthless slaughter, and in the name of his liberating conquest, ” Odin’s teeth ground out the word, “he relentlessly massacred the straggling remnants. Men. Women. Children. You.” Odin’s gaze bore heavily into him then, and Loki was thankful he couldn’t squirm. He paused, puzzling over the Allfather’s words.
“They are entities, then,” or close enough, anyway. The tesseract’s song had always been sweet, and sticky as honey. And he heard it now, a cloying shimmer amongst her siblings. “I imagine they are not too keen on being wielded, forced under the command of a creature playing god.”
“They are proud,” Odin conceded, “in their own right. Not to be tamed. Contrary to what the Titan believes, he has thrust the universe into more chaos than harmony.”
Loki felt a mounting surge of horror clench painfully at his stomach.
“He managed it, then,” he murmured, “I suppose Helheim and Valhalla have become a touch overcrowded.”
“Not quite yet.”
Loki frowned. “Then-”
“The Stones continue to hold those that have been taken.”
“They’re all trapped like me, then?” Loki rebelled against the thought, as it coiled tight around his neck, nearly choking him.
“Is…” Loki pushed against the fear gnawing at his stomach, “is Thor-?”
“He lives,” Odin said quickly, and Loki felt a weight he didn’t know he’d been carrying leech from his shoulders, leaving him dizzy. He was, surprisingly, beginning to hope this Odin wasn’t merely an illusion.
“And no,” Odin continued, “they are not. Like you.”
Loki felt his brow crinkle.
“Oh?”
Odin sighed, picking his way lightly to where Loki was imprisoned, feet plucking at air.
“They cannot bring about the return of half the universe on their own, they cannot relinquish all the souls they have stolen once wholly reunited, but,” Odin’s single eye bore into him, and Loki felt his innards curl, “you were taken under different circumstance. Your death, and the deaths of the remaining Asgardians, were not equal. They were not balanced. They were the first in the Titan’s conquest, the first taken with two stones under his thrall, but, the Stones deem the offering unjust.”
Loki blinked.
“I didn’t think ancient concentrated singularities of the universe possessed such a thing as scruples,” he said wryly, “but I suppose that’s not it, is it?” Loki almost laughed at the absurdity of it all. “Death and destruction is all well and good if it’s to be under their own terms, but if another so much as dares to wield them,” Loki rolled his eyes. “If they’re so powerful, why don’t they correct their own mess?”
“There are laws,” Odin said simply, “Thanos has learned to sing their song, and should they be united, half of all shall crumble.” He gaze softened, and Odin reached out with a hand. Loki would have flinched backwards, but, as always, his body refused to react. Odin’s touch was light, almost tender, on Loki’s cheek. His head was soon cradled in the Allfather’s palm, and Loki didn’t know whether he wanted to pull away, or give in to the simple gesture, an action once so simply surrendered to in childhood. This only made his chest ache. Regardless, he didn’t have a choice.
“It is as it was stated in the beginning, but you are...different,” Odin didn’t let go. Loki didn’t have the energy to summon up a glare.
Ah. So he was the loophole, then? A pawn. The thought didn’t anger him as much as he thought it would.
“Do they...do they intend to send me back, then? Among the living?” Loki spoke slowly, hoping to mask the uncertainty in his tone. More importantly, what exactly did they expect him to do? Die once more at the Titan’s hand in a vain attempt to, what, save the universe? Loki nearly scoffed.
Odin tucked a lock of hair behind his ear, and Loki felt himself suck in a tight breath.
Your birthright was to die.
Cast out on a frozen rock.
Odin’s thumb traced the hollow contours of his cheek, and Loki swallowed.
“I know not yet of their decision,” he admitted quietly. Well, that was a comfort.
He had thought Odin would have returned, sooner or later, in a fit of righteous anger to cast his monstrous son from his perch on Asgard’s throne. But he never came. And Loki was alone once again.
He thought Odin surely would have met him with livid rage on the cliffs of Norway, but Odin had only seemed casually indifferent, speaking to Thor more than him. Loki had fought savagely against the hurt welling in his stomach, as he waited for any sign that Odin truly... cared. It sickened him, that childish hunger. And Thor, for once, had chosen to exploit it.
And, like a pathetic mongrel, Loki had risen to the bait, clawing after Thor to prove his worth, all the while pushing down the frigid fear that he’d finally pushed too far, and Thor had truly meant what he said.
Perhaps there’s still some good in you, but let’s be honest, our paths diverged long ago.
Because that was how Thor had viewed the differences between them, as right and wrong. And Thor had merely shrugged. And left him on the floor.
“Your saviour is here!”
No, please don’t leave me alone, I can help, look, please…
Loki nearly staggered under the weight of his own self-loathing.
If Odin really wasn’t a figment of his depraved imagination, if he really was there, with him…
“How do you come to be here?” Loki felt his throat tighten, and he doubted his words were as bold as he would have liked them to be.
Odin grew still, but did not let his hand fall. No doubt Odin heard the unspoken remainder of that sentence. And why didn’t mother come to be here, too?
“The Norns permitted me passage,” Odin said simply, “as did the Stones. My soul is not as pure of heart as your mother’s, as I was granted permission into their halls of judgement, while she was denied entry.”
“And mother-?” The words broke on his tongue, and Loki wished he were not under Odin’s scrutiny.
“She misses you,” Odin said quietly, gently, and Loki couldn’t meet his gaze, “she says she is proud, and only regrets she could not be here herself.”
Something cold wrapped its icy fingers around Loki’s heart, and squeezed.
“I…” Loki choked, but forced the words from his lips, fighting against the sob threatening to tear from his throat, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, please tell her I’m sorry. ”
His vision blurred, then, the light refracting around the pale smear of Odin’s features.
Odin’s grip only tightened, his other hand reaching up to swipe at the tears leaking over his cheeks, and Loki felt a hot flush of shame writhe in his belly.
And am I not your mother?
You’re not.
“I’m…I…” Loki’s breath hitched, and he closed his eyes. He couldn’t look at Odin now.
You might want to take the stairs to the left.
How could she be proud? How could she ever be proud of her monster of a son?
He didn’t realize he’d spoken the words aloud, until Odin’s voice managed to filter through Loki’s clouded, splintering thoughts.
“You are my son,” and his words echoed all too painfully from a time too many years ago under the dim flickering torchlight of the Vault, “and though you harbour your own bundle of crimes, you are no mindless beast incapable of sentiment.”
Sentiment.
“You are my son ,” Odin repeated, more firmly, “and I am only sorry you fell into that Void, into the Titan’s hands,” a dangerous fury licked at his words, and Loki was only stunned at their ferocity. A part of him wanted to jerk away from his grasp, no don’t touch me, but another only wanted to hope this was not all just a dream.
“You-” Loki gulped, blinking furiously as Odin wiped away the last of his tears, “you left us. You lied, ” he couldn’t bite his tongue, couldn’t hold it all back, “you left us with a sister you threw away and the fires of Ragnarok. ” Loki gasped, and clenched his teeth against a sob. Because that’s what you do with things that embarrass you. That are wrong. You imprison them, lock them away to be forgotten. “You lie, you’ve always lied, and they called me the God of Lies.”
And Loki hated himself for his weakness, for unwinding under Odin’s eye, if only he could stop, make it all stop-
But Odin still hadn’t let go. His hands cupped Loki’s chin, fingers splaying up into his temples, and never moved. His grip only tightened, as he waited.
“I am sorry,” Odin said, and Loki knew this must be the workings of his own mind, as Odin would never admit his wrongs, would never concede to offer any form of apology.
And he desperately didn’t know if he was disappointed or relieved.
“Why?” Odin almost whispered the word, and it hovered delicately in the air. Loki blinked through the haze his vision had become, only to meet Odin’s remaining eye. The Allfather held his gaze, and Loki watched as his face nearly crumpled.
“A dagger? Why?”
And Loki suddenly understood.
He looked away.
“Lack of a better plan-”
“Why?” Odin demanded, and Loki, fairly convinced this was all in his head anyway, surrendered the words.
“Thanos was all about balance,” he said eventually, “or so he claimed.” Loki swallowed. “He was never going to let both of us live. He certainly wasn’t going to let me go.”
And Odin nodded in comprehension, almost resignation, as though one of his suspicions had been confirmed. He offered Loki a small, tired smile.
“Frigga is proud, as much as she is angered,” he said, “she would rather both her sons live, than one take his fate into his own hands for the sake of the other. As would I.”
But his remaining eye was almost twinkling now, as Odin stared up at him, and Loki was suddenly painfully aware of the silence.
“They have made their decision,” his father said abruptly, and all too soon his hands were pulling away, and Loki felt the world shift under his feet.
No, wait, please don’t leave me-
“Take care, my son,” were his father’s parting words, as the once languid strips of light and colour swirled in renewed agitation, blotting black to white, blinding, and Loki felt a vicious tug.
And then he was falling.