Disclaimer: All recognizable characters are not mine, and I do not make any amount of profit by writing this story. Its only purpose is to unleash my imagination, and to let anybody who reads it find some sort of entertainment in my work.

Warning: English is not my first language, so there WILL BE errors. Don't expect too much, it kills people… And I'm not abandoning ANATC, I'm just taking a break from that.

"The Plea of the Lost Son"

"It is a wise father that knows his own child." –William Shakespeare

Loki kept his head down as the council of Asgard argued amongst themselves. Odin threw his adopted son brief glances while Frigga stood aside, silently weeping. Thor argued along with them, standing up for that who once was his younger brother. The golden court was oddly peaceful beyond the circle of yelling and shouting on the round podium. The god of Mischief watched quietly, exhaustion and defeat was openly displayed on his features, his shoulder slumped and weary; no more was the malice that lingered in his gaze when he was leading the Chitauri on Midgard, only acceptance and relief. For years since he fell from the Bifrost did he dream of coming home, of seeing Thor and Frigga, of talking to Odin, of basking in the rays of sunlight through his chamber window. For years, he floated in anger and despair, in self-pity and hate, in unspeakable loathing—waiting upon Death's doorstep. He didn't know how long it was, but it was long enough for him to start letting go; to learn and to see reason... to forgive. The void changed him, relieved him; it became what he needed to forget his pain, the immature yearning for attention that had been kept within. It was what made him jealous of his brother, it was what made him a trickster that harbors the attention of the public, and it was why he always ended up angry and petulant about his parent's lack of attention. It was what eluded him to the fact that Odin gave him what Lauffey never would think of. Love, time, family—a life.

Not long after his epiphany, he started thinking of a way to return to Asgard, to his home; to the people whom he had forsaken for his own selfish purposes.

He started preparing his speech for Odin. He started recalling Frigga's embraces. He started imagining the new adventures that he and his brother would have once he returned. Though, there was one thing that he did not intend to happen while he was floating, recovering, dreaming and helpless across the void. He was rescued.

He was healed and was given a place to recuperate by a strange being. Unfortunately, along with his accommodations, he was trapped with bartered promises. The being, Thanos, wanted him to rule—nay, Thanos wanted him to destroy Midgard for him; for that was all the Chitauri are capable of, in turn he will be allowed to returned to Asgard, the place he deeply longed to be.

He focused on the task given to him; he planned his attacks, and he travelled to start the chaos that was his promise, his word, his self-assigned duty.

He never meant to hurt the mortals, nor did he ever wish to rule them, but hurt them, he did. He had justified his actions as a necessity for him to get home. It was not in his plan to control the mind of the agent, nor of the doctor's, but his hand moved even before he thought of doing so. He spoke words of domination even before he realized them, and yet he thought nothing of it. Partly, he accepted it as a temporary mental damage from floating too long in the void, but then he met his brother while he was on his quest to end Midgard.

When he saw Thor, he wanted to tell his brother how much he had missed him, but the scepter controlled him. It pushed him to lie to his brother, the words were not his own, his body recoiling to the god of Thunder's touch when he yearned for it. It was at that time that he wanted nothing more to do with Thanos.

He wanted to break out, but Fate never did go as anyone willed it to, nor does it bend to anybody's whims and desperate pleas. Fate carved its own plans long before he begged for them to change—so, why should Fate change it for the likes of Loki?

Instead, he was lead to fight his brother and his friends, the Avengers. He opened a portal that almost destroyed Midgard, and he could have won and wouldn't have been completely aware of it since he was under Thanos' control. He would've been made into a loyal dog to this being whose obsession towards Death was unparalleled. He remembered raging internally, doing any possible way to break away from the control Thanos had over him. Then, he woke up in pain and confusion. He was surrounded by the Avengers, along with his brother. He couldn't feel nor find Thanos' essence in his mind. He, finally, was free. He was so happy that all he could blurt out then was that he was ready to have that drink that one of the Avenger's offered him.

He was detained and locked into one of Midgard's finest prison. He was fitted for magic-repressing shackles, and he was given a muzzle. Not that he could fault any of them about it. He earned it for calling the only lady of the group a 'mewling quim'. Though it was Thanos' words, it was Loki's mouth and voice that spoke it. He was not given the chance to talk to his brother, but he relayed his gratefulness through other means. His eyes.

Whenever he would look at his brother, he poured all the emotions that he can—love, admiration, pride, happiness. He wouldn't say that it was too much, but the first time that he and Thor locked eyes, the older god jerked in surprise at what he saw and proceeded to check Loki's health. It was probably why Thor was fighting tooth and nail against the idea of chaining Loki in one of Asgard's dungeons to be tortured and used against his will. For that, Loki was eternally happy to have a brother like Thor.

"Loki Odinsson." Odin's voice was loud and commanding, yet gentle, garnering respect to those who heard.

Loki raised his head a little, yet he kept his eyes down. A sign of submission, of fatigue, of change, yet he could not speak. The muzzle was removed by Thor when they entered the court, but he could not find his voice, nor could he think of any word. Not at the moment, at least. Not when Odin made it clear that he stills thinks of him as his son.

"You have been brought before this council because of your crimes against Asgard and Midgard. What say you about these accusations?"

Finally, Loki looked up to the god he called father. "I am guilty," He spoke hoarsely. "—and I will accept whatever punishment you deem necessary, Allfather."

Frigga cried silently still, her eyes locking with her youngest as he continued. "But if I could, I would like to wish for a chance of redemption."

Odin silenced the court as their calls of 'lies' and 'monster' got too loud for his liking. He faced the child that he raised within his palace walls with a stern expression, making the god of mischief bow his head. "You think you are worthy of redemption?" he asked.

Loki looked straight into his eye and answered. "I am no more worthy of it as anyone of this room is, for even gods make mistakes."

The room erupted in another uproar, this time they called for Loki's head to be severed.

Odin stared at his youngest for a while, letting the room fall into chaos with all the voices stating what they wished to happen, until he finally looked up and silenced room once again.

The people of Asgard looked curiously, some almost out of their seats while others just calmly waiting for the Allfather's decision.

Odin stepped down from the podium and walked over to where Loki stood. The crowd watched as the Allfather raised his hand and placed it on the criminal's shoulder. "If it is a chance for redemption you seek, then I shall give it to you."

Loki's eyes widened but kept still as the room was deathly silent.

"No matter your origin, Loki, you grew in the ways of Asgard. Therefore, you are of Asgard. You will serve your sentence and prove to us that you're worthy of redemption." Odin continued. "But you will not serve it here."

The god of mischief merely nodded and waited for the Allfather to continue.

"You will serve it in Midgard without the use of your magic. You shall live as a mortal does, in exile, until time shows us that you are ready to come back and reclaim your immortality and your magic." This seemed to have placated the people in the court room as they were then nodding their heads in their places.

"Allfather…" Loki began as he felt his throat tighten with emotion. "I am thankful, but if I may just have one more suggestion before you strip me of my freedom to speak." Odin nodded for him to continue. "I will live in Midgard as a mortal, and I know that it will take some time for me to understand the humans. I will age and I may not be able to return should circumstances be given the chance to take my life away before I am judged either worthy or unworthy of redemption. If you would permit this as my last condition, I would like for Thor to come visit every now and again."

"Visit?" came Odin's surprised reply.

"Yes, Allfather." Loki dropped his gaze on the floor as he continued. "I have been floating along in darkness for a very long time," he raised his eyes to seek Thor's, whose eyes were wide and hopeful. "—I have come to miss my family, but I have yearned for my brother's comfort the most."

Before the crowd could begin their debate anew, Odin walked back to the podium and turned to Loki. There was a smile in his eye that brought the god of mischief to tears. He barely heard Odin granting him his condition, almost failing to acknowledge Frigga's last embrace and Thor beaming smile. His attention was focused on the Allfather as he walked towards his family. "I wish you luck, my son. Your mother and I will wait for your return."

And so Loki was stripped of his magic and of his immortality, and was exiled to Midgard.

To be continued...