Chapter Text
The suns brilliance reflected off the gold ornaments, filigree and veining in the hall, creating an excess of grandeur causing everything to sparkle, blinding in its glory. The hall, house to the throne of Asgard, was typically used for celebration. Feasts would last for days within its magnificence. Parties for foreign dignitaries and companies of traveling players from all nine realms would cause the walls to sing the music of the spheres. The richest delicacies concocted by the most talented and revered cooks and chefs would cover every inch of the long tables found along the sides of the massive space as well as added benches and tables for each occasion that would be found under the multitude of pillars. This hall was to be the central location of the wedding of the millennium - that of Thor and his mortal woman, a Jane Foster of measurable intelligence, who soon to be gifted long life as the new Queen of Asgard and All-Mother to the Nine.
No such celebrations would be had today, however. The small contingent of soldiers were dwarfed by the great marble buttresses, their boots echoing along the nearly deserted hall. There were only six of them, too few, some thought, for the task that they were appointed, dressed in their battle regalia. Four, the two in front and two in back, had their weapons drawn. The middle pair held chains, spelled with runes of ancient text, heavy and rattling with the steps of the seventh man. His ankles, wrists, and neck were bound with the heavy manacles of misdeeds and weighed down with the promise of punishment.
The chains, however, did not seem to phase their captive. His sharp, green eyes roved the hall, taking in everything before focusing on the ten figures in front of him on the floor and steps around the dais at the far wall of the hall. His eyes wandered over their faces. Six were masks of perfect servitude, not betraying a single thought. One was clearly angry, her fierce brown eyes drilling holes into the prisoners chest, hands, and face as she grasped the arm of her soon-to-be husband. Two were distraught under masks of calm. It was to be expected, the man knew, as they were the people whom he had hurt most. Lastly, the man sitting on the throne, his one eye shining in the light from the hundreds of windows, looked hard and resolved, his decision made.
As the small group reached the dais, the front soldiers peeled back, leaving the imprisoned man at the front of the group. Seeing that his audience was in place, the man brought his heels together with a solid thunk, bashing the ankle shackles together, and mockingly stood at attention.
Smirking through his self-doubt, the chained man opened his mouth to speak. “I don’t see what all the fuss is about.”
He leaned around his closest guard, towards the woman standing on the steps of the throne, “Hello, Mother.”
The woman shuddered, tears forming in her grey eyes. “Oh, Loki,” she whispered, her hand twitching to hold her little boy.
The man on the throne glowered, his one eye flashing dangerously as his mouth turned downward. “Do you not feel the gravity of your crimes? Wherever you go, there is war, ruin, and death!”
The man whipped his head around to face the grizzled elder on the throne and shrugged. “I went down to Midgard to rule the people of Earth as a benevolent God...just like you, Odin, All-Father.”
Odin stood, gripping the arms of the throne in his simmering rage. “We. Are Not. GODS! We are born. We live. We die. Just as humans do.”
“Give or take five thousand years,” Loki retorted with an almost cheerful tone, again masking the fear that broiled in his stomach with a display of nonchalance.
Odin sat with a huff, reaching for his spear, Gungnir, as it rested against the right arm of the stone structure. He stated, “All this because Loki desires a throne.”
Loki’s face shifted into one of defiance. “It is my birthright.”
“Your birthright, Loki LAUFEYSON, was to die as a child! Cast out on a froze rock!” Loki flinched as his real father was revealed to all that were present, an unwanted reminder of his true nature and heritage. Odin continued matter-of-factly, “If I had not taken you in, you would not be here now to hate me.”
Loki was done playing games. He realized with Odin’s use of Laufey’s name he had disowned him, the second and lesser son, literally rescinding his claim to Loki and his misguided quest for fatherly approval and a throne to call his own. Not wanting to wait any longer, Loki yelled, “If I am for the axe, then, for mercy’s sake, just SWING IT!”
A muffled sob and a forceful exhale retreated from two of the figures to Loki’s left. His gaze shifted to them briefly, painfully reminded that his punishment would also have an effect on his mother and brother. Selfishly, he threw that thought away, as he glared, without a hint of remorse at the man who caused his destruction. He tilted his chin up and narrowed his eyes. “It’s not that I don’t love our little talks, it’s just...I don’t.”
It seemed as if an enormous weight had suddenly appeared on Odin’s shoulders as he slowly stood and shifted Gungnir to be held in both hands. The bright, golden point focused on Loki’s chest, leveling out at his breastbone.
He began, his voice deep and rich with enchantment,“I, Odin Borson, King of Asgard, and All-Father of the Nine Realms, hereby declare Loki Laufeyson an exile of Asgard and I cast you out. For your crimes against the humanity of Midgard, you shall live out your days in isolation on that planet in a cell with the unbearable torture of solitude. You shall NEVER see Frigga or Thor again.”
Frigga was visibly shaking as she sobbed uncontrollably into Thor’s armored shoulder. Thor looked composed though tears rolled down his cheeks and into his blonde beard as he held his mothers head and hands. Jane looked smug, arms crossed over her torso.
Odin continued in his commanding tone, “I bind your magic until, as such a time, you are worthy to wield it in unselfish ways.”
A slow, dragging sensation swept its way along Loki’s limbs, head and chest, visibly manifesting itself in the green shimmer that Loki recognized as his power. It rolled down his arms and into the hand manacles which began to shift and reform into vambraces of shorts, riddled with runes to contain Loki’s powerful gift. As the magic pooled and absorbed into the cuffs, Loki began to feel weak and exhausted. He squared his shoulders, not wanting to appear weak before the wielder of his demise.
Odin concluded, his voice conveying the utmost gravity, “For your crimes against Jotunnheim, I also release you from the enchantments binding you to any form but your true self until you learn the importance of all life. This is the sentence of the All-Father, so mote it be.”
A sinking feeling of dread filled Loki’s chest. Not that. Anything but that. DEATH is better than being a monstrosity, he thought, his jaw slack and his eyes wide as he stared at the end of Gungnir which had started to glow.
With that, a brilliantly bright rainbow of color and light erupted from Gungnir and forcefully hit Loki square in the chest, causing the younger god to stumble and blinding all the were assembled. When the light faded, a loud clatter rang throughout the hall as Loki’s empty chains, collar, and ankle shackles fell to the floor next to a pile of discarded leather, metal, and green wool.