Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Every second seemed to last a minute in that tiny, dimly lit room. It didn’t help that Loki could only estimate the time that had actually passed since they were ordered to stay in that room and wait to be brought forth. Escape would have been easy, the gap between the door and the floor was more than spacious enough for an insect to pass through. Loki could easily shapeshift down to that size. Despite their gaze flickering toward the ribbon of warm light, held tight by the door and it’s frame, they were confined. Not only by the judgement of those with no right to judge, but also their own conviction. It had been two weeks since, against direct orders from the throne, from their father, Loki had travelled to the planet Thor was exiled to and brought him home. While they didn’t act alone, to save Thor from further grief, they had ‘admitted’ to Odin and members of the council that Thor’s friends were under their manipulation. The last thing Thor needed was those he cared about being charged with treason. Then again, he cared about Loki, and there they were, shifting their weight from one foot to the other as they awaited their sentence. Despite their resolution to be stoic, Loki fidgeted with their hands, rubbing their thumb across each knuckle, and adjusted their collar, trying to get it all out of their system before they had to face anyone. They had to be strong, prove that they’d go through anything, no matter how unjust, in the name of Thor staying home.

At least Frigga was on their side- it was hard for her to not be. After his exile, Thor wasn’t the same, and everyone knew it. Although few knew much about what had happened to him. Few knew what had turned a brazen, confident young man ready to inherit the throne and it’s realms, to someone who seemed much smaller. Someone who didn’t speak much anymore, who flinched under the touch of those he would’ve shared warm affection with so casually before. Loki knew. Loki knew exactly what Thor had been through, and that Odin allowed it to happen. So they would not plead innocent to saving him from Sakaar’s cruelty. Especially considering it was their own scheme that, eventually but unintentionally, saw Thor exiled in the first place. Thor didn’t know that yet. Loki didn’t know how to tell him. At that thought, their eyes widened; after today, they might not even be alive to tell him. They quickly conjured parchment, a quill and ink.

The floor was not a dignified place to write what was possibly their last message, but they had little choice in the matter. They wrote to Thor. Telling him that if he’s reading this, they were executed. Since any commemoration (although nice) would most likely be frowned upon, in their memory he should keep himself safe above all else… That they’re sorry, everything was their fault; they let the Frost Giants into Asgard, and convinced Thor to travel to Jotunheim. That they never wanted this. While they were petty and jealous and thought he was being arrogant back then, they never would have wished that suffering upon him… And finally, that they still, and always had, loved him with all their heart. When Loki signed their name, they faintly heard a drop of water hit the page. It wasn’t water. They hadn’t realised they were crying. Rubbing their eyes, they tried their best to leave no trace of tears. As hard as they were trying to force it down to the depths of their psyche, unreachable and lost, they were still afraid. The odds were against them. Perhaps the odds had always been against them. Their reputation had often been that of deception and wrongdoing, yet the kingdom of Asgard Asgard had no idea that they truly were a monster on the outside as well as inside.

The memory of confronting their ‘father’ about their true heritage felt simultaneously distant and vivid. While Loki had originally intended to take advantage of the Odinsleep by lying to Thor and guaranteeing he’d remain in exile, they had no information on where he was. So their plans of ruling Asgard for the better were too unstable. By the time they finally found out not only his location, but what was happening to him, Odin had long since woken up, and Loki’s priorities had shifted. As had their anger. A drive to prove themself to their father became a drive to defy the evil they now saw him for. Thinking of how they once wanted to prove themself so badly to Odin, who knowingly let his ‘better’ son suffer torture, made them grimace. Their brow furrowed further as they conjured the wax and flame, dripping a golden seal onto the fold, and pressing it with no symbol. No symbol seemed to fit them anymore. On the back of the letter they wrote their name, and that should they die, the contents of this letter were for Thor Odinson’s eyes only, lest he decide otherwise after receiving it. Not that they knew if that wish would be respected or not.

Nonetheless, they got up from the floor, letter in hand, and dusted themself off. They cast an enchantment on the letter so that it would present itself to Thor if they died, and watched as it disappeared. A few more long minutes passed, and the door finally opened. A man Loki didn’t recognise was cut in half by shadow, “You’re being summoned.”

Raising an eyebrow, Loki made a vague gesture, and the man just about noticeably flinched. He was afraid. They smirked, “As fun as surprises can be, you wouldn’t happen to know what’s in store for me out there, would you?”

He may have been afraid, but he was in no mood for their games, “I wouldn’t tell you .” There was no trace of respect when he spoke. Loki was being talked down to by someone who was scared of them.

Under any other circumstances, they would have reacted, but they resigned themself to it. They didn’t have much of a choice. “Could you at least tell me if I’ll live to see tomorrow?” Holding out their arms at a distance, knowing they’d be cuffed and trying to be cooperative. Loki sounded so perfectly weak, as if they would break without the assurance. Still, the man didn’t give in, and said nothing as he strode up to them with obviously forced confidence. They didn’t bother hiding their annoyance anymore, and huffed as they were restrained. Regardless of Loki being defenceless, the man kept several paces away from them as he told them to follow him. Two more guards, all in gold, had been waiting at the door, and both trailed behind Loki as they were led through the halls. Not that Loki didn’t know where they were headed. Or so they thought, at the third turn they realised they weren’t headed to the throne room at all. In fact, they were being taken outside.

Through the windows, Loki could see it was a nice, sunny day. Before they could step out into it however, they were blindfolded. They hated not being able to see, to judge their surroundings and act accordingly. It left them vulnerable. Once they reached the exit, they heard the chaotic din of a large crowd. When the doors were opened, the noise only grew louder, “A public spectacle? I should have known,” They looked smug; they wanted to look smug as they spoke to no one in particular. The few words heard more distinctively from the crowd did not surprise them. Traitor. Deceiver. How fast those words would be directed at Odin if the masses knew the whole truth. Alas, Loki was not in a position to be believed. Execution was likely, although they were surprised Odin and his council seemed to have committed to it. After all, executing one’s own child certainly didn’t paint a benevolent image, or a forgiving one. Yet words always twisted things. By executing them, Odin was simply putting his kingdom and it’s laws above his own personal grievances, like any noble ruler would- or some other drivel to that effect. Loki was led up several steps, onto a temporary wooden platform that creaked under their footfall. As they began to wonder how exactly they would die, if they were going to die, they didn’t hear one of the guards being told to take off their blindfold and restrain them further.

The sunlight may have been pleasant earlier, but suddenly able to see again, Loki had to look down at the floor. Everything was so bright, and slowly seemed to become much louder. They held back a grimace, and instead, once their eyes adjusted to the light, surveyed the crowd, heavy lidded eyes darting from person to person. Then they looked at who else was on the platform, and their heart sank. Their surprise was visible, but they didn’t care. The noise melted into a loud, monotonous ringing, a pandemonic cacophony of nothing. They heard everything, but registered none of it, and somehow, their thoughts were louder still. Why was Thor there? He wouldn’t have come here of his own accord. He must have been forced. Why? To watch them die so he would blame himself and suffer more? It was nothing but heartless cruelty. Thor didn’t deserve it. Thor didn’t deserve ANY of it.

Rage spread like wildfire throughout them, burning up any rational thought to cinders and ash. In a way that was familiar to them, it burned hot. But then it burned cold, and it wasn’t fire anymore; it was ice. The sun felt warmer on their skin as it turned blue, their eyes red with hatred.

Chapter Text

Ever since he had returned home, Thor flinched like a startled cat. He never used to; he used to have excellent composure. Now he flinched at a door opening, a loud enough noise, being touched by those he didn’t know well even when he expected it, and when he didn’t expect it, he’d flinch at anyone. The latch on the door echoed as it opened, and he panicked, jumping up from the window seat of his room and facing the door all too quickly. When he saw it was his father, he grounded himself, balling his hands in tight fists and focusing on the burning between his fingers and his palms, before relaxing again. “Father,” Thor nodded curtly. Truth be told, he still wasn’t sure how to handle conversations with Odin. He knew now that his father was wiser than him, and more powerful. If he wanted to, the All-Father could send him back into exile. So Thor stood strong, he was not weak, nor was he foolish, and he had learned. At least that’s the message he hoped he was sending.

“Loki’s punishment is today, at noon,” Odin spoke calmly, exactly how he used to speak to Thor. Though it seemed like forever ago, it really wasn’t all that long ago that it was calming. When his father had spoken, Thor would listen (most of the time) and his tone would be reassuring. It was the kind of security and assurance a father should provide for his child. Yet now, Thor felt unnerved. As if one small slip and Odin’s voice would change, would be filled with that same anger and disappointment Thor heard from him before he was exiled. Briefly, Thor wondered if he’d always been teetering on that edge- had he always been under that pressure? Surely not… He trusted in his father, because surely Odin knew what was best. For Thor, for Asgard… That was the reason he was wrong to question, to be reckless in his actions on Jotunheim. That was the reason he was cast out. Thor’s train of thought was interrupted before it could come to a conclusion. “You will be attending, it’s important.”

“Their punishment?” Thor backtracked. As soon as he asked the question, he felt an uncertain weight on his chest, and he crossed his arms, flexing his fingers. It was so vague, ‘punishment’ could have meant anything.

In response, Odin nodded solemnly, “For going against the crown, yes.”

That didn’t answer Thor’s question. Voice unsteady, he asked another, “Do they deserve it?”

“I wouldn’t do it if it wasn’t necessary, my son.” That still wasn’t a direct answer.

Fear started to creep further into Thor’s heart, settling uncomfortably. Was Loki going to be okay? Was this really what was best? What was necessary? Odin picked up on Thor’s nerves, and he walked over to him, placing what should have been a consoling hand on his shoulder. Thor forced himself not to flinch. “Don’t worry, you won’t be sent back into exile. Regardless, Loki made a choice in bringing you home, and they intend to see the consequences through.”

Bringing him home… Thor knew Loki was doing this for him. Everything they were doing was for him. As Odin walked away, Thor felt brave enough- or maybe scared enough- to ask one more question: “Are you going to kill them?”
The door shut, the latch echoed again. Thor got no answer.

A thick fog shrouded Thor’s mind, obscuring the passage of time completely until there was only the second or so between each step as he paced his room. Yet each time his foot hit the floor, the sound grew dull, and instead, his thoughts grew louder. Louder and louder still, eventually all he could hear was his own voice, screaming in a pain and anger so intense but so familiar that it coursed through him like nothing. Fear was heavy, but anger was light, it was liberation from chains only to rush into a depth of uncertainty. That uncertainty was what slowly suffocated Thor in his thoughts. Loki could die. They could die horrifically right in front of him. Vividly, he pictured it: the crowd, his father, and Loki’s eyes, resolute to everyone else, but to him they were pleading, begging him to help, to protect them, to save them. He had to save them. Loki had stood up for him against their father, against the throne. He owed his brother the same.

The room breathed a bright, blue light, flickering in and out, before Thor realised there was lightning in his hands. It had been a long time since he last felt that. It was comforting. Watching the sparks, they slowly fizzled out as Thor calmed. Like rain into the earth, he returned to himself, breathing in deeply and exhaling. His footsteps were no longer far away from him when he moved toward the window. All the curtains in his room were closed, he’d kept them that way since he’d returned to Asgard. He still didn’t feel like opening them, but he let a slither of sunlight into the room when he looked outside. Noon was fast approaching. Swallowing harder than he would’ve liked to, he steeled himself, making sure to retrieve a dagger before he left. No one questioned him wearing long cloaks that hid everything about him anymore- he wore them all the time now. Today was no exception; it hid his body that barely felt like his own, his face that was heavily, intricately scarred underneath the concealment magic, and in this particular instance, his weapon.

At noon, on the platform, Thor felt much less assured. Eyes empty of life and full of fear, his stomach churned and he looked at nothing in every direction. Everything was white noise, melted together into vague colours and sounds, until the grand doors opened and Loki was escorted through them. They walked confidently. Even when bound by chains and blindfolded, their head was held high, and they wore a smug grin… If it was anyone else striding toward the platform with such conviction, Thor may have questioned if they knew what was about to happen to them, but Loki was not anyone else. Loki knew, and so they wouldn’t let anyone see that they were afraid. As they were brought up the steps, closer to him, he held his breath, as if any noise, no matter how quiet, would give away his anxiety and his intent. That didn’t stop his hands from shaking, hidden underneath his dark cloak; even as he tightly gripped the handle of his dagger, he couldn’t steady himself. They didn’t say a word as the blindfold was removed, and instinctually, Thor tried to run his hand through his hair, only to remember it wasn’t long enough for that anymore- it barely reached his nose in the messy way it was growing out. Instead, he tried to stand strong, to make himself seem bigger than he felt. This was it. He needed to save them.

What he didn’t expect was for them to look at him, and for their expression to change so much. Their brows raised, then furrowed. The firm resolute line their lips were pressed into disappeared as they lost their breath in disbelief. Their composure crumbled and Thor froze, unable to do anything. As much as he wanted to give a reassuring nod, a look, something, he couldn’t even breathe. How was he supposed to protect them? Before his exile, he wouldn’t have hesitated to jump in and do whatever it took to protect them. Now, he felt Loki’s chains, he felt bound by nothing and everything. Thor knew his father was there, and the fear of consequence was harrowingly familiar. As Loki looked away, he felt a weight on his chest; they must have realised he was weak, that he couldn’t do anything to help them, that they would be hurt, or worse, die, and Thor wouldn’t have been worth it. He wasn’t worth anything… Before he could drown in his anxiety, without the green shimmer of shapeshifting, Loki’s skin turned blue, raised markings appeared across their face and body, and horns grew from their skull, winding back to a point. Without thinking, Thor took a step back. Others stepped back too, and there was an empty circle around them, turning white with frost. He felt their anger, and as they used the advantage of distance to stand and turn to face those accusing them with piercing red eyes, he felt fear. He was not the one who needed to be afraid.

Chapter Text

“Look at me!” Loki glared daggers at their father, and then, back to the crowd, “Look at me and see what my father, your king, hid from me my whole life! This is what I am, what I’ve always been! If Odin kept this from me, his own son, for over a thousand years, what is he keeping from- mmmph!” They didn’t notice the cloth until it gagged them. It hurt when were forced down to their knees, their skin breaking upon the wood. The crowd gasped, and whispers travelled quickly from person to person, group to group. Loki’s retaliation may not have freed them, but if it caused trouble, they were spiteful enough to take that as a victory.

Thor watched, all he could do was watch as he was petrified by the fear pumping through his veins. If they weren’t going to be killed before, this changed things. One hand on his daggers hilt, the other digging pale crescents into his palm with his nails, almost breaking skin. He knew why he couldn’t act. Back on Sakaar, back with the Grandmaster. Thor remembered the consequences for disobeying, the painful, violating consequences. When he was handled like an object, fucked hard, and left to cry afterward. If he was good, if he obeyed, then the Grandmaster was gentle, and had false soothing words about how kind he was being in offering Thor this position with him, how this was better for Thor, how Sakaar was better. It wasn’t. Yet in that moment, Asgard felt worse. His heart thundered in his chest, reacting to his mind throwing him back there. To rooms that were too bright and the touch of a powerful man who had Thor completely under his control. Thor felt that touch again, felt the adrenaline, felt so viscerally that he deserved it for his foolishness. He did not cower on that platform in front of his people, yet he felt as if he was, as if he was cracking, slowly, and would shatter. He couldn’t act, couldn’t save his brother. He was a failure and deserved to suffer.

Odin spoke, making his way forward and standing proud next to Loki, “My son speaks the truth, but only partially. They are in fact, not Aesir. Years ago, I found them, too small for a healthy frost giant; they were abandoned in the cold and left to die. I could not simply leave an innocent child, no matter their origins.” Odin looked to Loki, and it seemed Loki was adamant in not looking back. Instead they chose to stare holes into the floor, a scowl pressed into their face, knitting their brow and crinkling the bridge of their nose. Nonetheless, the All-Father continued, “I kept this from them to alleviate the pain it would cause them, and when they found out, this is what was they brought upon themself. I do not keep secrets to harm, and that is where they are wrong.” When he touched their shoulder, they angrily moved it away, but their skin still returned to it’s usual marble-pale colour, their eyes blue and horns no more. The air felt colder around them, only slightly. They strained against the dull cloth covering their mouth when they heard the click of new chains that rooted them in place. “Loki went against the throne in a manner that was as foolish as it was dangerous. No matter their circumstances, justice must come to those who break Asgard’s laws.” In a final gesture, Odin brought forth one of the councilmen who Loki recognised. That one in particular hated Loki, and were they not determined to remain steeled, they would have groaned. Instead, they simply closed their eyes, taking a deep breath.

Despite feeling as though he couldn’t move, would never move, that the ever shifting air around him would become his coffin, as the councilman approached his brother, as dark clouds rolled in from seemingly nowhere, Thor felt something strong again. He yelled out with a force he didn’t know he had anymore. A reckless but heroic force that was truly, truly, himself- more himself than he’d felt in what seemed like forever. “Don’t kill them!” It was loud and almost commanding, befitting of the God of Thunder. But there was also a desperate plea in his words, and as all storms poured rain, tears spilled from Thor’s eyes before he had time to notice them. He had stepped further than he meant to, and his hood had given way. His face was visible without pride, his eyes barely hidden by golden wisps of hair. It was a terrifying vulnerability, and it was all he had.
The councilman stopped in his tracks, and a breath Thor didn’t realise he was holding escaped him. He turned to his father, looking for an answer, for something. Odin spoke, “Do not worry, my son, Loki’s punishment is not death. In my mercy, I and the council have agreed on an alternative that fits their crime…”

While Loki was intent on trying to figure out what exactly was going to happen to them, Thor didn’t hear the rest; something about how Loki had lied and led others astray with their schemes, how they have misused their magic. What Thor heard, what resounded in his skull, was the word ‘mercy.’ The last person to use that word under such false pretences was the Grandmaster. Thor remembered all too vividly what the Grandmaster had said to him, “Now I’ll admit, people are executed here, some people are thrown out to make their own way on Sakaar. But, here’s the thing, these were all people who uh, took me and my benevolence for granted, so they fell from the grasp of my mercy. But you? I like you, I think you’re special. I just want to give you what you really deserve, so I’d prefer if you didn’t go and ruin it for yourself...”

Thor remembered that, defeated, he’d nodded meekly, and responded with, “Yes, Master.”

Before his memories could take him further, to more things he didn’t want to relive, his attention in the present was caught by the golden light of thread. He’d never seen anything like that before. It must have been enchanted. Then he saw the needle, a contrasting silver, and terrifying. With his own mind waging a war on himself, Thor couldn’t summon the strength he had mere moments ago. All he could do was watch helplessly as Loki’s punishment was carried out, his hood up once more, and underneath his cloak, his nails digging into his arms and drawing blood. Loki met eyes with the man holding the needle and thread. Despite their glare being as sharp as any blade, it didn’t seem to intimidate him at all. Once the cloth covering their mouth was tossed aside, they began to realise what the thread was for, and knew better than to use the opportunity to speak. As tempting as it was to spit in the man’s face, that would only make it more painful. Instead, out of spite, they would not scream, and they would not cry. The less satisfaction had by those who wanted to see them hurt, the better Loki felt about having their mouth stitched shut. After all, it was a few small pierces, nothing more. Loki had felt worse in years of combat experience, so they did not shudder as the needle was pressed just below their lower lip. At first, when it broke through their skin and continued into the flesh of their mouth, it hurt in the way they expected it to. It was painful, yes, but nothing gritted teeth couldn’t handle. Then the thread touched their new wound. It stung, and then it burned. Not only the wound, not only the surrounding area, but it seemed to travel fast through their veins to their mind and then burrowed deep, deep inside of it, leeching something from them, picking it apart and silencing it. It hurt like nothing they could have ever imagined. They almost screamed, but they didn’t. Instead their toes curled, eyes screwed shut, hands balled tightly into fists, the skin turning a pure white, and in a grimace their teeth clenched together so hard their entire jaw ached. It shook their chains only slightly, but it was enough to be audible. The sounds of metal scraping against metal scraping against wood echoed in their head far louder to the point of being disorientating. That wasn’t even the first full stitch.

By the time the thread was cut and tied at the final stitch, Loki felt drained of everything, their head hung low. Even their thoughts were no longer coherent. Their vision, blurring in and out, could just about make sense of the blood slowly dripping onto the floor. The same rag used to gag them earlier was used to wipe the blood away, but all it really did was lightly smear it to the side of their jaw. Not that they had it in them to care. There were no tears mixed in their blood, despite everything they hadn’t shed any. However, it was a hollow victory, and they didn’t celebrate or take any pride in it. Exactly how hollow it was was clear for all to see in how bright the thread shone across their lips. Severely weakened, they didn’t move when their shackles were opened, and simply went along as they were led off of the platform, their weight almost entirely supported by royal guards. They couldn’t pick up on anything Odin was saying as they left, and, horrified yet unable to do anything about it, neither could Thor.

Chapter Text

As soon as Loki felt the relative safety of their room, they had collapsed, and slept the rest of the day and night. When they woke up, they saw Thor (who had tried to stay awake for Loki) sleeping, curled up across from them near the foot of their bed. The satin sheets were creased from where he must have tossed and turned. In the brief moment that they forgot their circumstances, they smiled fondly at Thor’s efforts. Smiling hurt, they realised, and it was a cruel reminder of what had happened. They could not speak to wake Thor up. When they tried, the noises that came from them were incomprehensible and undignified. Instead, cautiously, they put a hand on his shoulder and nudged him. Thor sat up suddenly, and as soon as he opened his eyes they were darting around, making sense of his surroundings. He sighed away his panic once he felt the familiarity of the room. Sorrow was etched in Thor’s face when he looked toward his brother. That look wasn’t uncommon anymore, yet it still made Loki’s heart sink. Since Loki couldn’t, Thor spoke first, “I’m so sorry-” Loki arched an eyebrow, so he elaborated- “For this. What happened to you was my fault…” Adamantly, they shook their head. The last thing they wanted was Thor believing more of Odin’s actions were his fault. It wasn’t fair.

It was still dark outside, just before dawn, and the candles flickered shadows across both their faces and reflected dull light in their eyes. There was silence for a moment, a deafening silence that spoke of shared uncertainty and pain. Thor felt like he had to break it, even managing to give a smile, as melancholic as it was, “Sorry I fell asleep… You should- you should conjure something to write with. We can talk that way.” Nodding, Loki held out their hands. No green shimmer came forth, and no parchment with it. Instead, the thread burned them again, just as painful as the day before, and they screamed through sealed lips, clasping their hands over their mouth and doubling over. All at once they realised what had been muted, what the golden seal of thread held captive in their mind. Their magic. Their magic had been taken from them as well as their words. Without their silver tongue and sorcery what were they? What did they have? They were snapped out of their stupor by Thor, concern shaking his voice, “Loki! Loki are you okay?” Loki’s watery eyes, now more like ice than ever and wide with the horror of dawning realisation, confirmed that their answer was ‘no.’ “Can you… Can you not use..?” He trailed off, feeling if he said it aloud it his brother would simply shatter before him.

Finally, after everything, Loki sobbed. Breath ragged and quick, desperate to escape through the tiny gaps their lips could pull apart, they let their tears fall from their face and stain their sheets darker. In front of the crowd they had refused to cry, but in front of just Thor, who they trusted more than anyone else, it was impossible to hold back anymore. Even though Thor had been hesitant with affection and intimacy since his time on Sakaar, seeing Loki utterly broken made him pull them into a protective embrace without even thinking about it. They cried against his chest, at first not hugging back at all, and then clinging, seeking refuge and solace in their brother. As hurt Thor was, Loki still found an undeniable strength in him that kept them grounded. Tentatively, he stroked their hair, unsure of what to say, if there was anything to be said at all.
Loki’s magic had been ripped from them, and the heavy, dreadful weight on Thor’s heart told him it was his fault.