be grateful

Loki's POV 

"You cannot be serious," Loki scoffs. No way in hell would he ever think this was what his father would have said. Why would he go back to midguard? It'd be like a punch in the face. It would be humiliating, seeing that city after he tried to take it over. It'd be disgraceful... Was that the point? Utter humiliation or watching Asgard be led by a one eyed, puerile, old man? 

"You shall stay on midguard, or you shall be thrown in the dungeons, Son." Odin repeats, atop his golden throne. Son? Son? 

Odin was not his father. Odin would never in a million lifetimes be his father. He took Loki, not as a sign of sympathy or care, but for a trade. All he was good for was fixing the tear Odin had made.

"You understand you've brought this upon yourself, don't you?" Odin asks, drumming his fingers on his arm rest, and lazily glancing over to a few Ravens who perched on top of his throne. He sat with his head rested in one hand, as if addressing the boy below bored him immensely. Loki figured it did. 

His mother stood to the side, hands clasped in front of her with slight disappointment etching her features, and his brother sat on the steps, staring at the floor in front of Loki. Thors head was tilted enough so he couldn't discern what thoughts were swimming in that thick skull. 

"You are not my father." Loki says with a threatening innuendo, eyes flicking up to meet Odin's gaze with abhorrence. "Do not call me your son; you have lost that privilege."

Odin's gaze faltered just slightly. The fingers rubbing against the gold armrest halting their movements as he stares down at him. His 'son', the son he had tried to love as his own. 

But no matter how hard you try, how hard you strive to love another child as if your own— you cannot replicate the parental instinct felt of a child of your own blood. It wasn't the same. It would never, and it will never be the same. And Loki knew.

Loki knew. Loki always knew something was off. Thor was favoured, he got more attention from Odin. Loki was in his shadow, nothing more than a pawn in Odin's schemes. He was going to be a pawn no longer. 

Loki could not stand him right now. He was on the brink of seeing red. He could feel hatred seething from his pores- and he was sure the rest of the room could, too. He felt his throat close up, but he refused to let it alter his words or facial expression. That would be weak. 

"I'm going to midguard." He finalizes, tilting his chin up at the seated man on the throne, showing disrespect. He would not keep his head low for this lousy king; he did not deserve it. His voice was sour tasting. Perhaps that was why he had spit it out so? 

"I wish not to see Asgard under your rule, locked behind the confines of a cell." Loki adds, clenching his teeth and hands. It took an extensive amount of self control not to break from the chains and take Odin's life right there. 

He envisioned many a way to pluck his soul from existence. Strangling, maybe, seeing the life leave his eyes from his own hands was ideal- or perhaps a stab? It sounded appealing to watch him bleed out on the floor as he, the rightful, worthy king, stood over him. He could poison him? There was a multitude of things he could do, but he could only think of one thing currently.

He wanted to be out of Odin's gaze— which frankly— made him feel the slightest bit insecure. That stare– those harsh eyes– they made him feel like a boy again. Of course, he would never show it. His spite induced look did not waver in the slightest, but he wanted out- he wanted out now. 

He looked at his mother, hoping she would provide comfort, but she held a look she would take when Loki was in trouble. It had been many moons since he had seen that look, for he had been more clever with his planning of pranks these past years, but he remembered when he was younger. He'd pull harmless (in the rare occasions not so much) little pranks on thor or the Royal staff, or his friends.

He hated that look. It made him feel queasy. Correction, it used to make him feel queasy. Now it ignited something deep within him, a spark he didn't know could be set aflame. 

His eyes burned with a feeling he couldn't put, it made him want to yell. He wanted to yell, to scream out all the wrongdoings done to him, to tell Odin what a terrible father he was. His face was scrunched up and angry, silently wanting Odin, or even Thor to say something. 

"Take me away. Take me away to the lowly place of midguard so I don't have to see your face any longer!" He snaps, eyes flicking with something deeper than hatred, and turning his head away to signal he was done with the conversation. His mind was racing with his heart, and he wasn't sure which one was winning. It felt like his heart was. He could feel the blood pumping through his temples, and he started the think he would get a migraine if it went on any longer. 

This immutable man was not worth his time, he did not deserve Loki's gaze on him. He did not even deserve to be in his presence. 

"Very well then." Odin sighs, the small breath barely audible from the pounding in Loki's ears. The guards- on Odin's command- started to walk him out of the throne room. Loki risked a glance back at Frigga.

Her eyes were downcast, but as soon as she sensed Loki's gaze on her, she met them with a look that puzzled more than he would like to admit. He was amazing at reading people- his mother (was she even his mother any longer?) being one of the only exceptions. 

It was sorrowful, that much was for sure, and disappointed, but there was another feeling there– confusion, maybe? Or was it distress? 

With an unjust push from the guards, Loki's gaze snaps forward again. Friggas face was burned into his vision. He doesn't know if he wants to talk to his mother, or if he wants to loathe her like he does Odin. His mind was flicking back to all the moments spent in this palace— the good and the bad. 

He reminisced all those nights spent by the fireplace with a book and a glass of wine, or in the stables, taking care of the horses. Friendly brawls with Thor, and the not so friendly ones, and especially practicing magic with his mother. Those memories were most often the fondest, and occasionally practiced spells as if she were there. He loved her, more than he could comprehend. 

Maybe it would do him good to cut ties the best he could. No matter how much it would do him better to deny it, his mother was a weakness, ready to be exploited. Thanos and the chitaru already went down that stream. Loki swore if he spent another day with Odin, he would be condemned with murder. He knew he wouldn't be able to cut Thor out of his life during exile, he was no doubt tagging along to make sure he's not 'up to something' while on Midguard.

Loki scoffed, earning a look from the guards securing his chained arms. Just the words themselves made him visibly cringe with annoyance. 'Up to something', yeah right. Much to his dismay, he internally declared he would be good. The most good he could be while being the god of Mischief, that is. 

He would most certainly be thrown into the asgardian dungeons should he act up, and that was one of the main reasons he wasn't staying on his homeland. 

He wants to stay on Asgard, oh how he wishes to stay on Asgard. He wants to stay here in his beautiful home, and he wants to stay and walk through the woods like he used to when he was younger; when things were much, much simpler. 

When he was younger, he remembered wanting nothing more than to rule— to be the king of Asgard. He read and studied while thor trained his physical attributes and mingled with every girl he could get his brute-ish hands on (which exceeded more than a simple handful, being Odin's son, and all). 

He still strongly believes that brains over brawns was the obvious choice. Who would want a leader that raises a weapon before assessing the problems? Sure, it's a good thing to have, but brute strength can not solve every individual problem. Having smarts, especially political smarts, could solve every complication oneself is dealt with.

Unfortunately, you need intelligence to comprehend that dispute, and Thor, again, lamentably, does not wield such a powerful weapon. If he does- it is more than absolute that it is beyond discursive. 

He remembered silly quarrels between him and Thor, and he now finds himself missing them. A pain in the rear, they were, but he can't stop his features from tensing as an almost nauseating sea of nostalgia washed over him. 

He wouldn't be openly, or rather verbally (for he would most definitely show his distaste with vague physical gestures), opposed to Thor ruling rather than his father, now. Anything was better than that man. Hel, he didn't even want the throne anymore. The thought made him frown. After thanos, after the Chitaru, he didn't want anything to do with the throne. He was more than happy living as a prince. 

The guards led him out of the room. Now that the lingering stench of Odin had lessened, Loki was allowed to let his thoughts settle, and start thinking rationally.

Living. With. The. Avengers?! For how long? Oh, he forgot to ask. Stupid, stupid! How could he forget to ask? How long will he have to stay with those sniveling dogs? Dogs— dog? 

He'd have to live with that no good little wolf. Loki raised a chained hand to his cheek bone, where a scab had formed from Elliott's knife. His pale face was littered with bruises from the various punches. He was starting to wonder if staying in the dungeons would be better than going to midguard.

Upon hearing strident footsteps behind him, Loki cranes his head curiously. With a intensely peculiar gait, Thor was quickly making his way towards him. 

"Brother," he says, strangely out of breath. "Brother, I believe you." 

Giving him a doubtful look as Thor runs up, Loki questions just how much he overestimated his brother's wits. 

"Pardon?" He chimes, raising an eyebrow. 

"I believe that you were brain washed. I know you, brother, I know you would never do such a thing." Thor smiles broadly. 

"Oh, you do, do you?" Loki hums, as if talking to a child (which, in all honesty, Thor was just a giant child).

"Don't think so lowly of me, dear brother. I'm capable of far worse. But I thank you for your consideration." Loki raises his chin, looking down his nose forward. He needed to keep thor on his toes. Thor cannot trust him, and soon he must realise that. 

Of course, he was capable of worse things, far, far worse things. In his year away, he had practiced spells and magic he had never even thought was possible. He was stronger, he could break out of these simple chains right now if he wanted to. His magic was once laughed upon, but now it is something to be feared. Still, he thought it humorous how his brother would discredit his abilities.

Now, that being stated, whether he would use the magic to put others in danger for no reason, is not debatable at all. Loki knows his strength, now, and he would most definitely not use it on some simple humans. 

The honest truth is- he didn't want that cursed scepter in his grasp, nor anywhere near his persona. Gaining it took far more blood and bile than he would care to admit, and by the time he had realised that, he wasn't able to step down. That was why he had let the Avengers capture him. When he was (regrettably) thrown around by the hulk, he could've healed himself in an instant, but decided the consequences would be fewer if he gave himself to the Avengers rather than the chitauri and Thanos.

Thor frowns a bit, but doesn't seem too discouraged, much to Loki's dismay. It seemed as though nothing was in his favour, today— or for the past few months, to be precise. 

Loki, in return, sighs. "Well, was that all you wished to tell me?" He asks condescendingly, glancing down at the guards, who were exceedingly shorter than the both of the brothers (he was nearing 195 cm, himself). Thor, although taller, had somehow shorter legs than Loki. 

"Father has informed me I will accompany you on your trip." Thor adds, taking long steps to walk in front of loki and the guards. 

"I had figured." Loki replied shortly, discontently. He glanced at Thor, and took a deep, calming breath in. Loki was not in the mood to conversate, especially with his brother. 

Thor seemed to finally get the point, and shut his big mouth. They continued like that, silent, and unspeaking, for multiple minutes. Thor, with his short(er) legs, managed to pace himself in front of the two guards. His feet slapped loudly against the floor. Loki, however, was Constantly needing to adjust his long, lithe strides. His steps were quiet, graceful, even, if one was not dealing with a mass murderer. 

Now, these brothers were bigger than most. Loki was tall and lean, he was flexible and he had great stamina. Thor was the opposite muscle wise. Though reaching to approximately 199 cm, Thor was bulky and burly. Loki was sure if he were to even attempt something like, say the splits, his muscles would snap; whereas Loki was quite flexible and lithe. 

Loki's right eye twitched when the guards exerted their unruly power over him, and gave him a shove. His feet stumbled, and his teeth grinded together. 

They soon arrived at their destination, Loki's bed chambers, and thor entered with him. The guards stayed outside so loki could grab his things. They unlock most of his chains, but leave the ones around his wrists secured. 

"Thor," loki speaks slowly, so that maybe the brute would listen. His muscles tense up. 

"I am not in the mood for your company. Now, I think I've been overly nice, haven't I?" Loki says through gritted teeth and a fake smile. 

Thor frowns again. He nods, and for a second, looks like a kicked dog. 

"I'll be quiet, brother." He says, gaining a somber look in his eyes. He swallows, and walks over slowly to lean against the wall next to the closed bedroom door. 

Loki pauses to take in the scene. His room was big, being royalty and all. It was spacious and sophisticated— it was a perfect room for a perfect, cultivated man. 

He wasn't that sentimental (anyone who knew him personally would completely disagree), but he wasn't going to be back for hel knows how long, so he figured he would enjoy it while he could. 

The walls were a warm, butterscotch brown, with a beautifully accented gold pattern on the very top of the walls. They reached elegantly up to the ceiling, and curled against each other. Loki would spend certain sleepless nights staring as the gold, entangled, snake like patterns wordlessly. 

Loki glanced at his built-in-the-wall bookshelf, and gave a small smile as he looked over the books occupying the shelf. He had all his favorite copies. He had a couple good ones on the history of Asgard, and two or three on Jotunheim. But above all else, he had an exceeding amount on magical beings and possessions. He really was a nerd when it came to magic. 

His bedsheets were green, and all around the room, there were green accents to match. His curtains were a deep emerald that at first, took his breath away. Over time though, over all the fights, the bad memories, and other, disgraceful acts, their beauty had dulled. Now when he saw them, he couldn't help a small, sour taste on his tongue. 

The room was dark; the only light was streaming through the slight slit between the two velvet cloths draping over the windows. It was a calming scene, for reasons unknown. 

"I miss us, brother. When we were younger," Thor speaks. The noise caused Loki's eyes to roll. So much for being 'quiet'. 

Upon Loki's silence, Thor continued. "I miss us studying together, in the library. Do you remember that?"

"Yes, I remember. I remember having to tutor you, and getting less time to study myself." Loki responds, trying to sound colder than he actually was. He liked those nights. He missed them. He didn't mind tutoring his brother at all, and either way, he would've studied later in the evening, in his own chambers. He always did. 

Thor let out a hearty chuckle. "And in the gardens? The games we played?" Thor adds, glancing up hopefully, with a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. 

"I remember you begging me to shift into a horse, so you could ride me around the gardens." Loki answered, softer, now. He examined Thor's smiling face with an unchanging expression. 

"And our numerous battles? Our fighting lessons?" Thor continued, sighing happily. 

"Yes, Thor, I remember." Loki nods slowly, turning his head away and watching the curtains sway slightly. His voice was soft and silky. He wasn't upset any more. He wasn't angry. He was more.. brooding. 

 Now, thanks to thor, he was dawdling on the past. He was all over the place lately. He needed to control it. 

Loki pursed his lips, and with a flick of his hand, all the clothing and books he wanted were stored into a magical pocket of his. 

"Thor," Loki speaks softly, hesitantly, before sighing. "What is midguard like?" That was the only question he could conjure. 

What was midguard like? He had of course seen snippets of life there on his infrequent, short trips scoped out by the Chitauri, but never in depth. He had stepped on a large city, and he watched as mothers cried and children wept. He watched people tremble and shake in fear at the sight of the Chitauri and him, but he never truly stopped to think what they were feeling.  He had looked at them as a child would an anthill; as if they were small, insignificant entities to him, a god. But, he had learned his lesson. 

The brother in question seems to light up at the question; it was his planet of choice, after all. "Oh, brother, it's amazing." 

"The humans there hold so much value over the simplicity of their lives. It's honestly adorable." Thor smiles. "There's so much to learn from them and their culture." He was passionate about it, that was set in stone.

Loki let's out a soft sound of acknowledgement, and looks back at Thor. Loki was only a few feet away, and he stood with slightly worse posture than usual. "Alright."

"What about.. What about the Wolf boy?" loki asked, narrowing his eyes. "He's not like any other regular human. What's wrong with him?" Yes, what was wrong with that mewling little boy? He was different, way different. The way he held himself, the way he had talked, and, most obviously, his extra appendages. He was off, he wasn't normal, and it plagued Loki more than he'd like to admit. 

"Elliott?" Thor questioned, smirking a little. "There's nothing wrong with Elliott. He's just new to the whole hero thing." Thor shrugs. 

Loki nodded, but was unsatisfied with the answer. Although, he could tell that the information he was given was all that Thor knew, so he let it go. Loki had been tortured. He knew that look, he knew that ache, he could feel it radiating off of Elliott as if he were radioactive. He was dripping with the same feelings Loki was, and the same kind of memories. 

The two siblings head out of the dimly lit room, and loki frowns. He is chained again before he could protest (he wouldn't any how), and the guards immediately start to push him towards the exit of the palace, so they could travel to Heimdal.

The aura around the brothers was calming, more peaceful, and it wasn't as awkward. They exchanged small eyebrow raises, and communicated through silent facial gestures. It was something they did, just like some others might with their siblings. They were simple beings in all honesty, and in moments like this, it showed. Loki savoured the simplicity of it all when he could. 

The walk on the rainbow Bridge was long. The chains clanking against each other was giving Loki a headache. 

Once they reach Heimdall, Loki is let out of his cuffs, but immediately, his bicep is gripped by Thor's large hand. "This will be your last chance, brother." Thor looks up. 

Loki scoffs. Of course it was his last chance. He wasn't stupid. 

"Loki, thor," Heimdall bows his head. "Are you ready?" 

Thor looks at Loki, and gives him a reassuring squeeze. The other brother didn't need it all that much. He wasn't that nervous, but he was thankful that thor would still care even through all of this. 

Loki nods, and walks forward.