The heavy iron cuffs burned his wrists where they touched the bare skin that was left unprotected by the greyish-green material of his clothes. The collar around his neck weighed down on him, but at least it did not burn; the six chains leading from it ending in the six guards' hands. He tried to talk to them, having no actual company in his cell, save for the raging barbarians in the one across from his; but their tongues seemed to be as frozen as their face was.

Such was the fate of a prisoner on Asgard when brought to the one-eyed King, whose gaze burned hotter than the magic of the cuffs, to hear the judgement.

"Loki," Odin said, his voice barely more than a whisper, yet it could be heard even on the other side of the great throne room, filled with members of the council. Frigga's eyes flickered and a few looked at the All-father in surprise; the lack of second name and titles didn't go entirely unnoticed.

On his part, the Trickster had expected just as much; accused with the crimes he was still being called by his name was something.

"You released the power of the Bifröst on a defenseless realm..."

"A realm of Jotunns. And it couldn't be more than a minute and a half."

"Causing the death of hundreds of innocents in the process," Odin said, not in the least disturbed by his interjection, "If you have anything to say on the matter, we will hear it now."

The king gave him a look he had seen many times in his childhood, a look that would've sent him cowering in any other situation.

Not this time. This time he didn't do anything wrong.

And so he answered with a glance equally cold.

"I'm a prince of Asgard. It came to my attention that Laufey and his men were conspiring to attack the kingdom and her inhabitants. A land I'm sworn to protect. You must understand that I couldn't ignore this threat."

"His men," Odin repeated slowly, his azure blue eye examining his face, not leaving it for a second, "And what of the women? The children?"

The Trickster shrugged nonachantly.

"Collateral casualities. Surely you understand what that is, my King."

Odin's hand clenched the staff tighter, the movement only noted by Loki as the others' gaze was fixated on him, dumbstruck by the tone he dared to use, before the grip was eased again.

"Is that so?" The All-father stood up, golden cloak flowing behind him. "You, as a prince, acted on your own, without contacting anybody more experienced than yourself, disregarding the gatekeeper, more than that, seriously injuring him and unleashed the power with which none can rival, without the permission to do so. You had shown complete disregard for life. You are no Prince of Asgard."

Silence ruled the room before Loki spoke.

"If you wish to have me executed just say the words. There'd be people more than happy to carry out your orders."

"Executed? Oh, no," Odin seemed almost amused that he'd even think of this possibility. As if it'd be too good for somebody like him. "You shall live. Everything you've done is just as much a deed of mine as yours. I was the one who didn't teach you that your doings have consequences. Yes, you will live. In exile."

He slammed Gungnir against the floor. Golden light lit the room, washing over those present; and they gasped as one as it slowly faded away.

"In your true form, until you learn your lesson."

Loki flexed his blue skinned hand, shining like sapphire in the light of the torches.

It had to be a lie. A trick.

Frigga's pained expression said elsewise.

"What is the meaning of this?" he hissed, trying to hide his fear.

"When we defeated the Jotunns, more than two millenniums ago, I found a baby, cast out. Yet, his markings revealed him to be that of royal blood. I decided to take him in and raise him as my own son, out of pity. I was wrong not to punish him well enough for the same reason, I see that now. However I do hope that I'm not late in making it right," he looked up, meeting the sorcerer's gaze, "Yes, you'll be in exile on Midgard, your powers sealed away but for one day every century. You'll have one thousand years to redeem yourself or be the monster you've proven yourself to be."

Anger flared in him, mixing with the feeling of betrayal.

How could they have not told him?!

"I potected the realm I love and serve and you shun me for it?! Would you really have just sat there, waiting for a new wart to break out?"

"Jottunheim lies in ruins! They could not have..."

"You don't know that!" he yelled, infuriated, "Those who have lost everything fear nothing anymore, and yes, they would have found a way! They'd have come and even though we'd have won in the end, it'd still have had cost more blood than necessary! You should just take out your remaining eye as well, if you do not see that!"

"I've had enough of your insolence! You parade in here, you..."

"I... What? Tell the truth? It might be strange after all the lies you've taught me, Odin," he turned to the audience, his hands open, "I have one advice for you all, though. Did you ever ask yourself how's Odin always one step ahead of you? How does he know who is whispering what behind his backs, who is brewing up treachery so he can beat it down before it could spread?" He smiled at the frozen look on the king's face, "Apparently just like me, your noble king isn't what he appears to be either. Odin's house is full of traitors, Laufey once said to me while I was masquerading as one of his people. I suggest you look around your house as well, though I warn you, you might not like what you find."

He managed a little bow towards the All-father.

"My apologies, All-father. But monsters are rarely known for keeping secrets well."

"Loki," the Queen whispered, moving forward. His eyes flashed at her.

"Don't. You might stain yourself. We wouldn't want that, would we?"

He bowed his head once more, smirking, doing his best to ignore the heaviness in his chest. He breathed in deeply and slowly let out the air from his lungs.

"With your leave, King Odin, Queen Frigga, I'd wish to begin my exile so as not to hurt the eyes of the good ladies and lords present any longer."

He was trying to tell himself that he wasn't scared. He did.

But the truth was, he was frightened half to death concerning the future, since he actually knew to the minute when will he loose his mind, one thing he treasured and wasn't his mother.

Because it doesn't matter that Odin disowned him. That he chased away Frigga when she wanted to say goodbye and quite possibly hurt her feelings. She was the woman who raised him, who taught him, who was simply there for him when needed. No matter how much he tried to, he couldn't stop thinking of her as his mother.

He clenched his hand over the sack that held the apple seed which will grow then rot away as his mind will slip away.

The Midgardians ran at his sight. No wonder, he'd have done the same; the problem was when they came after him armed with scythes and prongs, apparently under the belief that some sort of priest will be able to "exorcise" him. Getting the blood out from under his claws were a nuisance, but having it caked there even more so.

Then there were the damned ravens which followed him everywhere.

When he had found the castle, abandoned though it was, but still beautiful, he though he had finally lost them after he placed the protective spells in place, using up his reserves.

Yet the black birds were there next morning, sitting on the edge of the window, knocking with their beaks on the glass.

It's going to be a long millennium.

A one and half a day long bust trip to England from the middle of Europe, three hours of actual sleep there and five hours per day the following week created this nonsense and what's to come.