Fall

He closes his eyes and listens to the drip, drip, drip of the murky rainwater splashing against the clear, glass ceiling. The air around him is heavy and dank, and if he squeezes his eyes shut very tightly, he can almost feel the heat of the Asgardian sun warming his aching bones.

The sounds of heavy footsteps come long before a figure appears. He knows immediately whom they belong to. He keeps his eyes closed and he remains very still, breathing deeply, trying to convince his unwanted visitor that he is sleeping.

“Brother?”

Loki almost flinches at the word and cracks one eye open.

Balder the Bold, the Beautiful, the Brazen, the Brilliant, the Betrayer stands before him in all his golden glory. His blue eyes, so like another Asgardian Prince’s, watch him steadily. A small smile threatens to spill across his plump lips as he leans against the glass of Loki’s cage.

“How are you faring?” he asks kindly.

“How do you think?” Loki spits back before he can stop himself. “How do you think I am, brother? I am chained here like some sort of animal, like some wild-child. I look as though I have not seen water since the drought of the Early Years. I can smell myself slowly dying, rotting away in some glass box, being jeered at by mere men that forget their place.”

Loki rattles at his chains angrily and glares up at the one who turned his back on him, the one who acts as though he cannot understand Loki’s fury. Balder blinks calmly before shrugging.

“You only need promise Father-”

“I shall do no such thing!” Loki hisses, his entire body going taut as he pulls at his chains. “I would rather die in this dome than abide by his tyrannical laws!”

Balder raises an eyebrow and takes a step back, his expression blank as he offers Loki a small, sad smile.

“Then you really are as ill as they say you are. Perhaps this box is the best thing for you.”

Loki gapes at him.

“You would let your own brother rot in a cell, and for what? To honour your backwards laws, to keep with your narrow-minded morals?”

Balder stiffens slightly, his eyes narrowing as he regards Loki coolly.

“You deserve not my sympathy, Loki. You have crossed lines that were never meant to be crossed.”

Loki laughs loudly.

“ And I will cross them again once I am finally freed from this box of insanity! I will cross them over and over so soon the lines shall fade and be worn and we will no longer be forced to keep with idiotic laws enforced by those who do not understand!”

Loki tugs at the heavy metal binds once again and snarls in frustration as he fails to move even an inch. Balder leans closer to the glass, a pitying expression on his face.

“He shall never be king. Not after what you forced him to do, not after you tainted the Golden Son of Asgard. Keeping you here is really in your best interests, Loki. They want your blood for what you did to him.” He says quietly.

“I would rather they tear me to shreds than be locked in here.”

Balder laughs darkly.

“I have the strangest feeling that that could be arranged, dearest brother.”

.

It happened over two millenniums ago. It had been a calm summer’s night in Asgard. The Great Battle between the Aesir and the Jotun’s had finally come to an end and all of Asgard was awaiting eagerly the return of their king and his warriors.

Frigga had felt it the moment Odin stepped into their chambers with the tiniest of bundles held carefully in his arms. Thor had been sitting on her lap as she plaited his thick blonde hair. His own blue eyes had widened with curiosity as he watched his father approach them slowly, the bundle in his arms squirming slightly.

“Odin.” Frigga had whispered, her breath catching as she met her husband’s guilty gaze.

“I could not let him die.” Odin had argued softly. “Not when he is of Asgard.”

Odin lowered the bundle slowly, revealing a tiny babe with eyes the largest coins and the colour of emeralds. His skin was as white as snow and his lips the palest shade of peach.

“Who is this?” Thor had lisped as he peered into the blanket anxiously.

“Your brother.” Odin had answered. “His name is Loki.”

Thor frowned and looked over his shoulder at his mother.

“But you have not birthed a babe?” he argued.

Frigga pursed her lips tightly and forced down the dreaded tears that threatened to fall.

“Say goodnight to your brother, Thor.” She had said firmly, her eyes never leaving her husbands.

“But I am not tired!” Thor exclaimed.

“Bed.” Odin ordered in that booming voice of his and Frigga had wanted to scratch his eyes out.

She kissed Thor on top of his soft head and ushered him out of the room with his nanny. He had been reluctant to leave, unable to tear his eyes away from the small babe now wriggling and kicking about on the bed freely once Odin freed him of his heavy blankets.

“What of the mother?” Frigga had snapped.

“Dead. He was left to die alongside her in the cold. It was fate that made me cross his path, I am sure of it.” Odin answered earnestly.

Frigga glanced down at the child below her and felt that uneasy feeling settle itself deep within her stomach. Loki watched her with large, unblinking eyes and when Frigga finally touched him, she felt her soul weep. She shot a look at Odin as images flashed before her eyes, scenes that were yet to pass, memories yet to be created. Odin smiled slowly.

“What do you see? Shall he be a great king?”

Frigga looked down at the babe smiling up at her and knew that if she revealed what she had seen that she would be putting an end to his life. Loki gurgled happily and pulled on one of her fingers playfully.

“Well?” Odin pushed.

Frigga swallowed loudly and forced a smile.

“He shall be like nothing Asgard has ever seen.”

.

“I have been to see him.” Balder tells Thor as soon as he has returned from the holding cells. “He is fine.”

Thor looks up from the scroll he had been reading.

“Has Father lifted my ban on seeing him?” he asks quietly.

Balder shakes his head.

“I am afraid not. I do not think he shall change that anytime soon.”

Thor makes a huffing sound and kicks at the tomes of dusty books piled around his feet.

“I only wish to see if he is truly alright. Loki is most skilled at pretense.”

Balder grabs an apple from the bowl by Thor’s table and frowns at his older brother.

“Should you not be too ashamed to go and see him? After everything that has happened-”

“He is still Loki and I still love him.” Thor says simply.

Balder shushes him loudly and glares at him.

“Be quiet, you fool! Do you wish to bring Heimdall down on top of you?” he whispers. “You know that you are not to say that.”

Thor huffs.

“I shall say as I please. I am not afraid.”

Balder sighs sadly.

“You should be, Thor. For I am afraid. For both of you. Your sins will not be forgiven lightly.”