The crowd was utterly, eerily silent as Loki was dragged through the streets from the fallen palace to the whipping post. Golden chains clinked and heavy boots thudded on cobblestones, but not even a whisper stirred in the terrified crowd.
Loki kept his head up, and his eyes forward. He could give his people that, at least, even if he could not help them any other way.
The guard trembled as she chained her former prince to the post. Her eyes lingered on the bite mark on his shoulder, darting to the rest on his arms and back. Bloody bites, deep and fresh. Loki took a deep breath, pine sap from the post mingling with the smell of his own sweat and fear. If he had let the mad king have his way, he would not be here now. He already understood the lesson, but his punishment would be carried out regardless.
The guard stepped back, and the moment lingered on the edge of a blade, the calm before the agonizing storm. Fear and confusion saturated the air like a tempest about to break. Loki gripped the chains and braced his feet.
Unfortunately for me he is requiring mostly fluff from my fingers right now.
But please, more whump…
Need more….
The dead-eyed creature that wore his brother’s face licked its lips and spread its knees on the throne. Gungnir buzzed and vibrated frantically in its implacable grip. The spear tip glowed with Asgard’s seidr, molten and furious, helplessly harnessed to the creature’s bidding like an unwilling steer to a plow.
The creature looked like Thor, but it was nothim. Loki had never been more sure of anything in his life.
Words choked off the unfamiliar tongue of the stolen body, ugly and thick with slobbering bile.
“Are you ready to obey your king, brother?”
Loki swayed where he stood, the slow drip of blood reigniting the pain of the lashes with every breath. Despite the shadows at the edges of his vision, he did his best to keep his head up and his words clear. There must be no confusion when this tale was retold at secret hearths and dark doorways throughout the realm, as he knew it would be.
“You are not my brother, and you are not my king. You do not belong here, monster, and I will not obey you.”
The thing on the throne spat and snarled, twisting Thor’s handsome features into a bestial visage of rage and corruption.
“Take him to the vault,“ it snarled at the nearest pale-faced guard.
“The…the vault, your majesty?”
Gungnir slammed on the floor, cracking the marble like glass. Smoke rose from the haft of the spear where a claw-like hand gripped it, filling the throne room with the bitter scent of burning flesh.
“The vault,” it screamed, blood on its teeth. “Find an empty plinth in a dark corner and chain him to it. No food. No water. Leave him with the rest of the stolen relics until he learns his lesson.”
