Chapter Text
Loki actually quite liked Asgard, stifling and backwards as he found it. And he can't help but be glad he's-
Not home, but something.
His head is altogether too mangled to think of just what Asgard is to him now. Now that he's no longer their dark prince, or witchling, or coward.
Coward. Hah. those who would level that accusation at him would balk at all he has accomplished in his life, short as it has been. The reminder of his time with Thanos is accompanied by a sharp pain behind his eyes, a phantom ache where his connection to the mind stone had been.
His mind, once his crowning jewel, the one thing he loved about himself, destroyed beyond repair. He can feel it, distantly, like watching the king's guard training from a balcony with Thor.
Just as distantly, he can feel his mouth, stretched wide around a manic smile, his body unable to reckon with his mind, clawing desperately at a shred or normalcy. But even he knew he was too far gone this time, this wasn't smiling through the pain of another one of Odin's rebuffs.
Speaking of the All-Father, he could hear the heavy boots of einherjar approaching his cell. He was curled over, on his knees with his forehead pressed to the ground, seeking any relief from the pain of his unwanted connection snapping he could get. He wouldn't be allowed any potions or herbs, nothing with even a smidge of seidr, lest he somehow become a healer and twist his way out of punishment.
He could hear the echoes of his pretender-father now, 'I will not allow you to escape punishment this time, Loki.'
This time, he'd already paid in full. The verifiable bloodweight off all of his crimes, already taken by a madman.
He couldn't help it, he began to laugh. The one time he accepted his punishment, it would not come. He heard his laughter echo out, bouncing off the floor where he still pressed his face against it and reverberating around his small cell. The guards outside could not hear it, his cell had been muted since he'd willingly walked into it, in a pitiful attempt to prevent him from putting his Silvertongue title to good use.
It wouldn't have mattered anyways. He had placed safe-gaurds on these cells ages ago, in another fit of paranoia, when Odin had just begun to show his hand, and the difference between him and Thor grew. If he wanted, he could trigger it now and simply walk out, but he was tired.
That was the crux of the issue. The axe would swing, and Asgaurd would be safe once more, its hidden monster slain.
He was so tired.
The All-father stops in front of his cell, and Loki can't find it in himself to stop the wretched laughter forcing itself from his lungs.
Odin slamed gungnir against the ground, attempting to silence him, no doubt, but Loki is done being silenced.
"My-"
"Just stop it." Loki interrupts, his laughter edging closer to sobs now, "Just let the sword fall. I'll plead guilty to any charge." abruptly the laughter within him ceases, "Just don't make Frigga watch."
"Loki, of what do you speak? I will not allow you to twist your way out of this." Once again, Odin woefully assumed he knew his youngest charge.
He turned his face to the king of Asgard, "You know of what I speak. Kill me. I plead guilty to treason, murder, attempted genocide, and breach of decorum."
"Loki, you will have a trial, I cannot-"
"DAMN THE TRIAL!" He screams, unable to stand the pain in his head any longer, his already perilous grasp of reality slipping. With these plain white walls, he's reminded of the hospitality of the mad titan, forced to replay endless scenarios of his lowest moments, made worse every time with the help of the mind stone.
"You are king! Don't pretend now!" He snarls, "I have professed guilt in front of a number of reliable witnesses." His voice breaks, suddenly going high with another spike of pain, "Please- if you've ever cared for me at all you'll take my head now, please-"
"LOKI-" Odin yells, once again slamming his spear against the floor, "You WILL have a trial, where you will have a fair-"
Loki erupts into laughter again, his already failing voice stumbling and cracking, "Oh! Fair? When have I ever requested you be fair? Wished it, aye, but asked? I would rather die. In fact, I will die." He stands, his weak body unable to hold all his weight, even thin as he knows he is, "I am waiving my right to trial, and formally request execution. There is precedent, if you look." He had looked, before he let the frost giants into the vault, some part of his soul knowing his fate.
His once-father signaled to the einherjar around him, and suddenly the energy field around him fell, the soldiers coming forward to move him.
"You truly wish to do this?" he asks, already knowing the answer. When the All-Father did not answer, Loki nodded, resolving himself and drawing on his limited strength.
The guards did not draw their swords, obviously seeing his ragged state as proof enough of his strength levels.
Even impaired, he was still a former prince, and he was used to being underestimated.
He lunged for the nearest guard's sword, his speed and agility allowing him to draw it fully from its sheath. The einherjar all rushed towards him at once, intent on disarming him, but before they could, he turned the sword on himself.
The moment the sword pierced his sternum, was pure bliss. The pain in his head eased for a moment, as he was given a new focus, and he could feel the last of his strength leave him. He fell forwards onto his knees, letting his eyes slide shut. Finally, the goal he had been trying to accomplish since Heimdall had started it a year ago could be completed. His collapse jostled the sword, pushing it clean through his stomach and through to his back. It was a good sword, high quality, though he had never favored them like he had been pushed too.
Loki, before he succumbed to the darkness encroaching on his vision, wondered how different his life would have been if he had just picked the damn sword.
—-------
There was someone there with him.
His senses, honed through years of suspicion, nightmares, and ill-fated quests, could pull him from the deepest of sleeps at the slightest disturbance, but something told him he had no need to rise. He couldn't tell why, but it just didn't seem necessary. His body did not tense, in fact, he had the ridiculous urge to relax further.
He was asleep, or at least in a deep meditative state. He could recognize the feel of it anywhere, after so many centuries of seidr training. There was a faint humming, the song of yggdrasil, his mind told him, after some searching.
"My child. Why do you reject us so?"
Normally, someone else interseeding into his mind would send him scrabbling for his mental shields, but once again, his magic seemed to know there would be no need.
His silver tongue failed him, and all he said was, "I grow weary."
Opening his eyes, he saw stars. The unpleasant reminder of the void is what finally causes fear to rise, before it too, is soothed. He feels a warm presence wrapped around his being, separate from him, and yet also integral. It was familiar, but the words to describe it escaped him.
"Where am I?" He asks, taking in the rest of his surroundings. It was undeniably beautiful, galaxies and planets swirling around him in an ever-changing dance. The chaos of it spoke to his soul, consoling him in a way nothing else did.
"It is not important. We do not want your thread to end."
He raised an eyebrow, "Do not want? Or will not allow?" He found the line between the two was often slim.
"Word-smith." The strange echoing voice said, with no little amount of fondness, "Do not want. If you truly are too tired, we will allow you to rest." He rankled at being allowed anything, but this strange state of being once again put the emotion to rest.
"Why do you not want my thread to end?"
He sensed the vague feeling of amusement, though it was not his own and he could not place its origin, "You are a reflection of the universe, and necessary for its survival."
Loki hummed softly, "So if I do decide to rest, you will let the rest of the universe die? Where is the point in that?"
"We can always start again."
Alright, fair enough.
He supposed it would be the unexpected thing to do, to succumb now.
After all he's done?
No.
I will not die like this. He will not break me, too.
"What would you suggest I do?"
—-------
When Loki regains consciousness, it is to a faint buzzing noise. He doesn't open his eyes, waiting for a hint of where he is first.
"Do you see, my queen? His magical core has been . . . twisted" The voice itched in his mind, tugging at something he could not see.
"I do see, Lady Eir. Do you know what would have caused this?"
Mother?
Loki had to fight to keep his eyes closed, every bone in his body suddenly desiring either to fling himself out of the nearest window or into her arms.
"I believe it happened during his time in the void, this kind of desecration could not be self-inflicted."
He decided he most likely won't get anything he doesn't already know, but also finds himself in no mood to speak, so he lets himself drift back to sleep.
The next time he wakes, he is alone.