"You know what it's like to be unmade."

-Clint "Hawkeye" Barton

The brothers landed where the bifrost used to be, at the very edge of the broken rainbow bridge at the feet of Heimdall. Loki didn't know if it was because there was some residual force of the fallen bifrost still lingering in the area to attract the Tesseract, or if it was out of sheer habit. The entrance to Asgard had always been the bifrost, and it always would be—even if the structure itself lay in ruins, it seemed.

Loki watched Heimdall bow to his future king and he smiled beneath the crude muzzle. Tradition would be Asgard's undoing. It was the bifrost, the ceremonies, the ancient beliefs, an entire population frozen in time because it believed itself to be perfect. It was a bitter thought, because he could think of a hundred different ways to bring Asgard to its knees now that he was in shackles. Once he'd wanted to rule this city. Now he thought that he'd quite like to see it burn.

"Welcome home," Heimdall greeted. He was flanked by eight soldiers, armed and armored. "The All-Father has prepared a feast to celebrate your return. And your brother's." He said the last bit with a touch of bitterness in his stony voice. His face was ever-expressionless, but Loki thought he saw the sentry's lips twitch into a brief scowl.

"I am very fond of these tidings," Thor declared. "Feasts on Earth are puny and there are never enough of them. You!" Thor pointed at the closest guard, then motioned him toward the palace. "Tell the All-Father to double the food and triple the wine, for I believe I could eat more than Volstagg at the end of a fast!"

The guard saluted and turned to carry out the God's orders. The remaining seven moved forward to relieve Thor of his prisoner. Loki watched, feeling rather apathetic, as the guards took him by the arms and began directing him down the length of the rainbow bridge. They moved as a unit, Thor walking abreast of the soldiers with these huge, ground-eating strides that the rest of the group struggled to keep up with. It was all marvelously choreographed, in Loki's opinion. It must have done the men proud to know that they were performing well; this was their five seconds of significance, after all. These peons were containing a royal prisoner and attending the heir of the All-Father. They could never hope to do anything better, short of dying for glory in battle.

Asgard and its damned traditions.

Loki stared at the city, mostly because there really wasn't anything better to look at. He certainly didn't want to see the back of Thor's head, and Asgard was pretty if nothing else. He honestly never thought he would see it again. That's saying a lot, an honest thought out of Loki Silvertongue, but it was true. It was the basest of sentiments, something that had haunted all of his journeys: he was an orphan. No home to speak of, a family that he'd forsaken. He'd come to terms with that fight, though. He'd made his peace the second he'd let go of Thor and plummeted into the black hole. Now he was back and it was going to make all those melodramatic emotional struggles worth less than nothing. He was thwarted by Thor even in his own head.

"Our father will be overjoyed to see you, brother," Thor said eventually, breaking the monotony of metal clinks and bootfalls. He stole looks sidelong here and there, and though Loki was sure he was trying to be subtle, Thor was as obvious as he always was. The brute was an open book.

There was a pause, presumably where Loki was supposed to reply. Maybe he was meant to have some sort of emotional revelation and throw himself at Odin's feet, begging for forgiveness. That's probably what Thor wanted to see out of him. Loki didn't even grace Thor with a heartfelt look; he kept his eyes on the distant peaks of the palace.

"Whether you wish to believe it or not, we are still your family and you are home," Thor added. His voice got just a little husky when he was speaking so close to his heart. It was quaint.

He thought it was a shame that the joy of the All-Father and his son was going to such waste.

The muzzle was obnoxious, and Thor's one-sided conversation was only making it more frustrating. It was an inconvenience, it was a barbaric way to control him. Thor knew him too well; even leashed he was a danger to his captors so long as he had his words. He wasn't going to get out of Asgard as easily as he'd escaped the humans and their cages.

They were approaching the end of the bridge. Most of the walk was done in silence, and it was a much longer journey without a horse to ride on. By the time the pearly stone of Asgard was within reach, Loki was aching. The injuries that mutated beast had given him weren't fully healed and he was still paying the toll for it; walking for an hour was the last thing he wanted to do. Odin's grim face, his single ragged eye and his spear as if he would need it—they were just an added spice of irony.

"Father!" Thor called. He strode ahead of the guards and embraced Odin with his usual lack of tact or ceremony. "Your sons have come home."

Odin smiled, but it was a thin expression, a sad one. "That they have. I welcome you both." He gestured for Thor to move aside, and approached Loki slowly. He moved like he was exhausted. "Ah, Loki. I would offer you a father's pardon for his son if I thought you would take it. As it stands your trial is scheduled in a fortnight's time. You will be confined to your old quarters until then."

Sleeping on a bed would be nice. The comforts of civilization would be enjoyable as a whole, really. Loki hadn't had a nice bath in a very, very long time. Running delinquent from one's homeland and discovering the dark, disgusting ends of the universe tended to do that. If he'd been able to respond to the offer, though, Loki would have taunted the old man. He would have questioned him as to whether just those old rooms could hold him, because he was Loki Silvertongue and he could slide his way out of anything. It was his talent. He would have bluffed and acted like his old rooms were the last thing he wanted because he honestly didn't want to see them again. Despite the comfort they offered, it was going to be a reminder, and he didn't want to sleep in that bed. Not after everything that had happened.

But he couldn't talk, so Odin simply turned from him and addressed the guards. "Take him to his quarters. Bar the doors and do not open them under any circumstances, not unless Thor or myself directly order you to. There are to be four men on watch at any given time, and another stationed outside the palace within view of his windows. Every possible escape route must be monitored."

The men saluted as one, then began walking again. Loki had no choice but to follow the armed guards, and he didn't miss the fact that they were walking alone now. Thor remained at Odin's side, smiling like a dog up at the All-Father, seeking his approval. Loki turned away just as Odin raised an arm around Thor's shoulders and demanded to know everything that had occurred on Earth. He didn't want to see it, he didn't want to look at the face of the family he'd forsaken.

He felt sick as the soldiers marched him toward the palace. His stomach churned, his head hurt and his mouth was dry. Thor's words chased his every step, that unconditional brotherly love and the way he was always going to pretend they were brothers no matter what Loki did. He hated it, he hated everything about this place. This was not how things were supposed to happen.

He didn't want to be home.