True Light in Angel's Eyes

Humiliating.

That's what it was.

He was chained up like a wild dog – like the frozen, vicious beast they all believed him to be, with his honor nowhere to be found. He was guided down the aisle with numerous guards dressed in golden armor on either side of him, their spears and swords kept firmly in their grasp and at the ready should he try to make a foolish attempt of an escape. As they grew nearer to the throne where the Allfather sat, with Frigga standing loyally beside him, he could feel his insides begin to boil in a heated rage, though he dared not betray his emotions to the world by expressing them on his face. He chose, instead, to let that coy little smirk of his reside on his features, his pride wanting to show how much, or rather how little, he thought of this insignificant reunion with his adoptive parents.

The chains around his neck, hands, and feet jingled softly as he stopped moving, the gentle chime ringing throughout the rich golden hall for a brief moment before a name was uttered from Frigga. “Loki...” she whispered solemnly.

He turned to face her, his chains ringing quietly once more before he replied, “Hello, mother. Have I made you proud?”

Frigga's expression clouded as her brow furrowed with concern. “Please,” she urged, “don't make this worse.”

“Define worse,” Loki's emotionless voice retorted.

“Enough,” Odin's strong and booming voice resounded throughout the chamber. “I shall speak to the prisoner alone.” With those words having been said, Frigga stole one last glance at the trickster before she made her way out of the room, wringing her hands nervously as she did so and leaving the former father and son to their business.

As she left, so did what was left of any sincerity Loki had for this little meeting of theirs. He exaggeratedly took a step forward like a soldier and rung his chains about noisily, a small laugh echoing around them before he composed himself. “I really don't see what all the fuss is about.”

“Do you not, truly, feel the gravity of your crimes?” Odin inquired. “Wherever you go there is war, ruin, and death.”

Loki was unfazed by his lecture, shrugging his shoulders as he replied, “I went down to Midgard to rule the people of Earth as a benevolent god – just like you.”

“We are not gods. We're born, we live, we die... just as humans do.”

“Give or take five thousand years,” a smirk crept its way onto his features.

Odin stared down at his former son and shook his head, then – as a jab to Loki's smart remark – mused aloud, “All this because Loki desires a throne.”

Loki's brow furrowed and his eyes darkened, the mood surrounding him becoming tense and austere. “It is my birthright!”

“Your birthright was to die!” Odin bellowed, loosing his composure for the first time in their discussion. “...As a child... cast out onto a frozen rock. If I had not taken you in, you would not be here now to hate me.”

Loki stepped forward without hesitation, words flowing out from his mouth not a second later. “If I am for the axe,” his voice resounded through the chamber in a taunting tone, “then for mercy's sake... just swing it. It's not that I don't love our little talks... it's just... I don't love them.”

“Frigga is the reason why you're still alive and you will never see her again, nor will you see myself, your brother, or Asgard ever again – however, I'm sure this must be relatively good news to you.”

Loki's eyes narrowed as he listened. Just what was that oaf of an Allfather playing at? He attempted to take another step forward but the guards held him back with the chains, restricting his movement. “Well, I must admit it does sound rather tempting, but just what do you have up your sleeve, Odin?”

Odin rose from his chair, stepping down from his throne and standing before the trickster with his hands behind his back. “Loki, you have no respect or appreciation for human life. You say your birthright is to rule—”

“—Because it is!”

“—But you will never be worthy of a throne – any throne – with such a blatant lack of recognition for those who are ruled over!”

“So what,” he scoffed, “are you still trying to find the compassion within me?—Trying to give me another chance at becoming a king?”

“No.” Odin answered firmly. “I believe that there is no hope for you as the way you are now and I believe that you will never be a person deserving of such a thing.”

“So what then? You're casting me out into that expansive darkness for the remainder of my days?”

“No, even that is too good for you.”

“The dungeons then,” he assumed.

Odin gave no reply as he placed the tips of his fingers onto Loki's temples, the guards restraining him further by holding him in place as he tried to evade his father's touch. A warmth seeped throughout his skull from the Allfather's fingers and all he could do was stand and absorb it. “You must learn how to respect mortal life, Loki. You must learn and see the value of it. Without it, you will never amount to a man worthy of anything in life.”

“And just what do you plan to do, Allfather?” He spat out angrily.

“You are hereby sentenced to live among mortals until the time when you can appreciate their way of life.”

He gave a sarcastic laugh in Odin's face. “And what do you expect me to do? I won't simply toil about because you tell me to.”

“I never expected you to with the way you think of me, Loki. Instead, I will seal away your memories,” the heat that was once being emitted from Odin's digits now spilled out a chill that seemed to freeze Loki where he stood, his mind going blank as his consciousness began to grow weak and dim, “and you will have no recollection of your magic, your former loved ones, or Asgard. You will have nothing.”

“No!” Odin could do anything else he wanted, but not that. For if he took away Loki's memories, his pain and suffering, he would lose himself and be nothing. There would be no reason for his existence. At this point, vengeance was all he had.

Loki's body slowly gave way and he was soon dragged away towards Heimdall and the Bifröst, where he would be transported towards Midgard once more. As Odin was left in the chamber on his own, a door moaned as it was opened and a figure slowly made her way towards him.

A delicate hand was placed onto Odin's shoulder and he clasped it gently with his own. “Thank you.” A fragile voice quietly whispered.

He turned to face her, his clear eyes weary and tired from all that had just happened. “You are far too kind for your own good, Frigga.”