Of Capslock and Character Development
For an eternal, sickening moment, Loki is falling. Or perhaps he is flying - is there truly a difference in a dimension where up and down mean nothing, and space and time are nothing more than social constructs, generally noted, but not obligatory.
And then his feet hit solid ground, and he can finally tell which way is up again.
Which would have been better, if his feet hadn’t been the second thing to hit the ground.
“Broth- Loki! Are you alright?”
Loki groaned, from where he had been dumped unceremoniously on the rainbow bridge of the Bifrost, staring up into the void.
“Absolutely not. My backside is bruised, and my pride even more so. I fear it's a fatal blow.”
Instead of having the desired effect of reassuring Thor that he was, in fact, not going to die on the spot, his words only seemed to cause the man more panic, Thor babbling to him about Healers, and if he could heal himself, and how sorry he was and -
“Thor,” interrupted Loki, “I am perfectly fine, and would appreciate it if you stopped crying on my chest.”
By the Norns - Loki was certain that Asgard had developed sarcasm by now. Right?
“Truly?” asked Thor, eyes still shining.
Loki rolled his own, sitting up, “Yes, quite. Believe it or not, it takes more than a tumble to completely decimate me. Now, do you want to explain exactly why I’m now on Asgard when I specifically told you I wasn’t going?”
Loki watched the man’s expression carefully - Thor had always been an open book to read, and if he had had anything to do with the impropatu kidnapping, guilt would be painted across his face like a canvas and a particularly enthusiastic painter.
Instead, his face was open and guileless - a little guilt, likely residue from their conversation not a minute ago, but open and honest.
“I do not know, bro- Loki. I did not call upon the Bifrost, the only one capable of-”
“Good evening, my Princes.”
Loki was suddenly hit with the urge to jump over the edge of the bridge. For the second time.
Well, maybe not that. He’d settle for being hit over the head with something hard. Or hitting the approaching figure, perhaps.
“Heimdall!” greeted Thor, “Did you bring us back? I had sworn-”
Heimdall held up a hand, “I did, my Prince, but not through my own volition. Your father ordered the both of you to be returned, and I could not disobey his commands.”
Loki scoffed, “Oh, now, you can’t disobey the rightful king. How convenient.”
Heimdall surveyed him with those same damning golden eyes, something sad within them. Manipulative bastard.
“And I apologise for that, Prince Loki. But with all due respect, you were not in your right mind, and to have let you do what you intended to without an attempt at stopping you, in my eyes at least would’ve been a crime more deep than treason. And for what it is worth, I am glad you have returned. However unwilling.”
Loki scoffed again, but didn’t reply. Why was everyone suddenly so understanding? And where had that been for the solid millenia before that?
“Thank you, friend,” said Thor, as Loki turned away, “I assume Father wants to see us now?”
“Indeed,” said Heimdall, “Horses have been sent for you.”
“Send them back,” cut in Loki.
“Loki, seeing as we are here, will you at least try to-”
“Oh I intend to go,” said Loki, a grin playing at the corners of his mouth, “But I don’t intend to play by his rules. He sent horses? I say we travel a different way.”
Thor’s brow furrowed, but Heimdall only chuckled, “I wish you luck, both of you. I suspect you may need it.”
“Loki,” pressed Thor insistently, “How are you intending to travel?”
A wicked grin spread across his mouth, “Do you remember when we were children, and we visited Vanaheim for the Summer Solstice?”
“Vaguely?” replied Thor, evidently confused by the change in conversation.
“Do you remember that waterfall? The one where you could leap down it into a pool?”
Thor’s face brightened at the memory, “Yes! I do! I pushed you off it!” the man chuckled.
Loki chuckled as well, “Then consider this payback.”
And with that, he grabbed the blonde’s arm, twisted him to the edge of the bridge and pushed.
—-----------------------
Thor was still screaming when he hit the ground. Which, while being a two inch gap, was clearly very traumatising. Serve him right for pushing Loki off that waterfall.
“Nice trip?” asked Loki, snickering as he landed softly beside the man, who was breathing heavily.
“Loki-” he panted, “What trick of yours was that? And why do I feel so-”
The rest of that sentence was cut off by Thor sticking his head in a nearby plant pot.
“Ah yes,” said Loki, inspecting his nails - damn, they were chipped again - “It’s quite common to feel sick after your first teleportation. Some people don’t agree with being molecularly disassembled and reassembled in a different place. No idea why.”
Thor finally sat back up, looking distinctly less green.
“That,” he declared, “Was terrible, and I’m never doing it again.”
He sounded uncannily similar to Clint the first time he’d travelled.
“Yes, yes,” waved off Loki, “Now, I don’t know about you, but I’m currently tired, hungry, sore and extremely pissed off, and I would dearly like to go somewhere where that can be remedied. I cannot currently do anything about the first three, but yelling at Odin would significantly improve the latter. Now, come on you oaf. I believe the Throne room is this way.”
—------------------------------------
All considering, Ava was quite proud of herself.
Not only did her portal lead directly into the palace, but she also lost no more than a minute in time slippage. Suck on that, Mr ‘I’m gonna skimp on repairing my Bifrost and lose eight months in time slippage’ All Father.
“Wow.” Cooper breathed softly, craning his head up to gaze wide-eyed around the little annex they’d landed in, “I know you said Asgard was beautiful but this is… wow.”
Ava snorted, “Coop, this is literally part of the servants quarters. You think this is cool? Wait until I show you the rest of the palace.”
A grin spread across his face, “This is gonna be so cool. Okay, what’s our plan, then? I’m assuming we’re not just going to wander around until we find wherever Thor yoinked Loki to?”
…
“We’re going to wander around until we find Loki, aren’t we.”
“When you put it like that, it sounds worse than it is. I mean, I have a vague idea of where he is, but there’s too much interference here for me to pinpoint him.”
She suddenly brightened, “Oh! I just felt him teleport! He’s outside the Throne Room!”
“And where are we in relation to that?”
“Well, technically we are also in front of the Throne Room, just from a different direction. This is one of the lesser used rooms, since you can’t really go anywhere from here. Well, using a door at least. When Loki brought me here when we were kids, he showed me a little trapdoor just… here!”
Her fingers hooked onto a little catch on a panel, and Ava pulled the little hatch open, swinging the panel clear.
“There we are! If we go through that, we’ll end up on the rafters of the Throne Room, on one side. We should have the best view from there.”
“If I fall to my death I’m haunting you forever.”
Ava rolled her eyes, “Don’t be so dramatic. We both know I’d catch you. Probably. Depends on how annoying you’re being, really.”
Cooper gave her a playful shove, “Come on, let's go sit on these rafters then. Preferably before someone decides through sods law that todays the perfect day to check on here and finds two alien intruders.”
Ava went first, clambering neatly through the hole, Cooper close after. He pulled the panel behind him, so it was closed enough to not be obvious from the inside, but not so much that it shut completely, trapping them in the roof.
The rafter they found themselves on was wide enough for them both to walk side by side, although it would be a squeeze, and therefore more of a safety hazard than they were willing to risk.
Cooper gasped again at the sight below, at the truly massive hall - ridiculously tall, and about as long and wide as an entire floor of Stark Tower. People moved below them, attendants going back and forth, nobles and the assorted gentry sitting in ascending importance (and number of ornaments they were wearing) the further towards the throne they got.
And there, sitting on that great monument, was a man. Well, a god, if you were being finickity.
He was tall, even sitting down, and had the body of a warrior, even though his hair was white and his face had more wrinkles than it did scars.
“Odin Allfather,” whispered Ava to her speechless best-friend, “Thor’s dad, Loki’s technically kidnapper and an absolute asshole.”
“Who's the woman next to him?”
“That’s Frigga, Loki and Thor’s mom. She’s a lot nicer than him, don’t worry.”
“Ah, okay. Why are we whispering?”
“I don’t know! I mean, we’re technically spying on an enemy base, so stakeout?”
Down below, there was an aura of anticipation in the air - they were waiting for something, clearly. Ava could guess what.
That something appeared earlier than they were apparently expecting.
There was a collective jump as the massive doors at the far end of the Hall were flung open with a force Ava distinctly recognised, a shade of green as familiar to her as her own face in the mirror.
The entire room stilled as Loki strode through the doors, looking very out of place in his customary hoodie, hair pulled back in a bun on the back of his head. He stuck his hands in his pockets as he walked, looking very cheerful for someone who had just been yoinked from their home and sent back to the place that had caused them, like, a good 84% of their trauma.
Next to her godfather, Thor walked, sticking close to his brother’s side, and giving hard looks to anyone who dared look twice. Well, it was good to see that someone had finally pulled the stick out of their ass and was acting like a decent person.
From the head of the room, a thump sounded as Odin stood, a staff held in his grip.
“Loki. Thor. I see you have taken alternative measures to the ones I provided.”
A smile stretched across Loki’s lips, but his eyes remained cold, “Allfather,“ he drawled, “whatever are you insinuating here?”
A vein was already thrumming on the side of Odin’s head.
“An entire bowl of Steve’s dumplings says he has a heart attack in the next ten minutes.”
“I’ll give him half an hour - I’m sure he’s gained a little immunity by now.”
“You’re on.”
“Loki,” bit out the man, “It would do you good to remember your place here. You are a Prince by my blessing only, you have no right of blood to protect you.”
Ava caught more than one smug grin and snicker within the crowd below, most notably from the younger end of the spectrum - the ones who would’ve grown up with the youngest Prince.
Loki was silent for a moment, and then a snicker broke through his teeth, developing into outright laughter.
“Oh you ancient fool,” he said, wearing his smile like a knife, “As much as I hate to burst your little bubble of self-importance, it has been a long, long time since I’ve needed your validation. I’m not the boy I once was. You made sure of that.”
From her seat up high, Ava could see the sorrow in the eyes of Frigga, who was stood to the side of the throne, staring at her children with such a deep look in her eyes it made Ava’s heart lurch.
Odin’s eyes held none of that.
“Bold words,” he sneered, “From the child still throwing a tantrum over a throne that was never his. I had brought you here to reunite, so you could make amends to this family, but I see that your lying ways have not changed, even as you claim to maturity.”
“Bold words from the man who stole a child as a war prize, proceeded to be a frankly terrible father, and the moment he couldn’t cope with the consequences of his actions, banished one to a foreign realm, gave the other an absolute identity crisis - thanks for that, by the way - and then fell into a convenient Odin-Sleep.”
“I think you might actually win this bet,” said Cooper, watching curiously as Odin began to turn a peculiar shade of purple.
“It’s amazing what therapy can do for your ability to call the abusive parents in your life out on their bullshit.” agreed Ava, “I wish I could’ve brought a camera - Aunt Tasha would kill to see this.”
“Lovely shade of puce you have going on there,” commented Loki, grinning from ear to ear now, “Sure you don’t need to sit down or-”
“ENOUGH!”
Ava flinched at the thundering noise, Odin slamming his staff down with such force the marble floor cracked.
Her necklace pulsed with a pure jolt of scared-anger-run and she clung to Cooper like a lifeline. Down below, Loki had skipped back a full metre, his eyes wide and unseeing. Wherever his mind had sent him, it wasn’t here.
No matter how cold the mask he wore, it was just that. A mask. One born of sharp words and silver lies. One shattered by the anger of the man he’d once called father.
“I HAVE ALLOWED YOU LENIENCE FOR FAR TOO LONG, BOY. I TOOK YOU IN WHEN YOU WERE NOTHING, AND THIS IS HOW YOU REPAY ME? YOU ARE A DISGRACE TO YOUR NAME. FROM THIS DAY ON, YOU ARE NO LONGER A PRINCE OF ASGARD. I CAST YOU OUT, LOKI, SON OF NONE, THE LOWEST OF THE LOW.”
Ava’s eyes widened - Odin had taken his name. A name was everything to the Asgardian people - that was one of the few things she’d paid attention to when Loki had attempted to teach her about Asgardian etiquette and politics. A name was your identity, a prayer for who your parents hoped you would grow up to be, a tie to your family forever. To be removed from a family entirely was a punishment used for the worst of the worst. Those so twisted they had no chance of rehabilitation.
The room was stunned into silence, as their youngest Prince - no, the boy who had once been their Prince, stood, legs visibly shaking, eyes leaking tears, gazing up at the vengeful God.
Distantly, Ava remembered a conversation she’d overheard between Tony and Bruce once - that no matter how terrible a parent was, no matter how much you hated them, and what they had made you to be, some part of you would always love them, and always would, no matter how much it hurt.
A parent could build you up from the ground, could raise you higher than you could reach by yourself, but they could also shatter you, could pull you up by the roots and dash you against the ground.
And Loki had just been shattered.
All her life, Loki had been her rock. The one who stood above the rest, who was strong in the chaos that was her life. He towered over everything - literally and metaphorically. But there, alone on that floor, Ava thought he had never looked so small.
A hand raised itself, searching for something, anything, to cling onto.
He found it.
A shield, golden and shining, stepping between his little brother, and the man his face no longer recognised as a father.
“Thor, step away.”
Odin didn’t bother putting fire behind his words, knowing that his son, his golden child, would obey.
He didn’t.
“You promised me,” said Thor, in a quiet voice, one so different from his usual jovial boom, “That you were here to bring this family back together again. You lied to me.”
“I am not the liar here-”
“You say he is no longer a Prince of Asgard? Then neither am I. I rescind the throne, and…” Thor paused for a moment, shooting a pained look towards his mother, “And I rescind this family. Let it be known that you have not cast me out, but that I have left. You hurt my brother once. No - not once. You have hurt him over and over again, and I have been blind. I will not be blind any longer.”
Ava could’ve sworn that Frigga looked proud.
“Thor, son, do not let the traitor cloud your mind he is-”
“HE IS MY BROTHER!”
A look of utter fury crossed Odin’s face, and he raised his staff.
He moved too fast to act, too fast to stop. The bolt of energy stretched across the room for an endless moment, Ava screaming in the rafters, drowned in the roar from the crowd, and the cry from Frigga.
Time slowed, allowing them to see every agonising moment.
To see as Loki shoved his brother behind him, to see the flash of fear, and the resignation on his face as Thor tumbled out of the way.
To see the bolt pierce his chest and-... deflect away?
“Does anyone want to explain to me exactly who just attempted to murder my son?”
A dark hiss from the corner, a hooded figure emerging from the shadows, a hand stretching out to summon the little disc that had been thrown with such precision, the metal clinking back into place with a snap.
“Who are you?”
For the first time, Odin’s voice shook, as the hood was flung back to reveal a head of lightning-white hair.
“I’m many things. I’m a Wildcard, a spy, an assassin, a sister, an aunt. I am also a mother. You can call me Elena. Now, do you want to start explaining before or after I get my knives out?”
Odin, in his infinite wisdom, chose before.