1. The Binding of Loki

Returning to Asgard, returning home, Thor had never been further from feeling at ease. Was it too much to ask for peace? To regain what they once held in childhood?

How things had changed. How they had changed.

A sharp wind bit at his neck as they began to walk the long, slow path to the citadel. If Loki felt the chill he did not show it. His eyes were fixed ahead, red rimmed with fatigue but no less venomous. Thor tried to hold his gaze, searching those eyes for a sign, a shard of feeling, a whisper of anything but the violence he had witnessed on Midgard. Nothing. He was met with nothing but ice.

He suppressed a shudder.

He reached out his hand to guide Loki forward, but a distinct glare and jagged movement served to ward him off.

It seemed that despite it all, his brother's pride remained as strong as ever. He would have smiled, had his heart not been so heavy.

Waves of light pooled weakly beneath their feet as they walked. The Bifrost was naught but a shattered remnant; a relic of its former glory. Its once luminous surface was dulled and the colour had been bled from its bones. Its broken bones.

Familiar figures waited ahead, armed and armoured and looking as though they were ready to kill without question. Could he blame them, given what had come to pass? As they neared Thor searched their faces and tried to judge what their thoughts held. He didn't need to search for long to find the hatred he expected to see. Sif's eyes blazed with a fury he had seen only in Asgard's darker moments.

Was this one of them?

The weight he carried in his chest told him that for himself, at least, the world was a bleaker place.

He gazed sideways at Loki as he strode beside him. The god's expression had not changed. It remained set, even as Hogun spat at his feet as he passed.

Thor knew that behind Loki's muzzle hid a wolfish grin.

A cry from above drew Thor's eyes to the darkened sky. Black against grey, two ravens pierced the cloud cover.

It seemed the Allfather was expecting them. His message was clear: your fate awaits you.

The citadel rose before them. Even in the halflight, its vast walls shone. With a deep, thunderous fanfare of crunching bolts the doors of the palace ground on their hinges to reveal the ominous figure of Odin, standing atop the throne's dais. Though his face was in shadow, Thor's stomach contracted in something resembling fear.

The knot remained as, stepping forward, two guards swam in from the wings, grasping Loki roughly by the shoulders. He was forced forward, pressed to his knees before the Allfather and, as the guards retreated into the shadows, left as the solitary figure in the centre of the vast chamber. Thor dared not move. His knuckles whitened around Mjolnir's hilt as he could do naught but look on, helpless, as Loki knelt before the dais.

Kneeling. The black irony rung hollow through the chamber.

The shaft of light that illuminated Loki's form from behind, streaming though the open doors, slowly narrowed as they closed, the echo of ancient hinges dulled by the silence that filled the hall.

Loki barely moved as his gaze shifted up to the Allfather. Thor saw it, watching from the shadows. He saw the flare of pride as he tilted his chin up and fixed his unwavering gaze on his would-be ruler. Defiant.

The wolf snapping at the hunter's wrist.

Slowly, painfully, Odin's staff beat against the chamber floor as a sign that – Thor cursed at the thought – justice would be dealt.

~oOo~

Tony ran a hand through his hair and suppressed a sigh – it was going to be a long day. The crowds of workmen were beginning to disperse, leaving him alone in the middle of the lounge with a mug of sweet, steaming coffee in his hand. He was exhausted. There was no other word for it. Exhausted.

Fury had made repairing the tower a priority in the cleanup operation: it was theirs now - The Avengers. They needed it to be a working base as soon as possible and that wasn't going to happen with downed security systems and blown-out windows. But that meant Tony had to deal with strangers running into every nook they deemed repairable. Of course, they were SHIELD approved strangers, but strangers none the less. Tony was more than aware that it only took one of them to attempt to sate their curiosity, to wander into somewhere they shouldn't…

He stopped himself. He needed to get things in order.

Pepper would have been able to cope. She'd have coordinated the entire process, dealt with the press, dealt with Fury and still found time to tell Tony where to be and when.

But she was gone. She was long gone.

He took a sip of his too-hot coffee. It was going to be a painful, dragging day.

~oOo~

Thor turned cold as the words began to sink in.

"…guilty of his crimes…"

He took a step towards his brother.

"…in accordance with the creed laid down by my father…"

Guards glided in from wings to pull Loki roughly up by the arms.

"…and his father before him…"

The Allfather's staff was raised.

"…I, Odin Allfather…"

Still Loki stared, head held high.

"…do condemn you to banishment."

The moment the staff touched the floor, Loki was gone. No sound. No light. Unceremonious. Thor's breath caught in his throat.

Goodbye, Loki.

~oOo~

There was darkness. Darkness and silence, nothing more. It was painful. His eyes strained to see something. Anything. As if in reply, the darkness intensified to such a level that he found himself closing his eyes, finding the action something akin to reassuring.

He was exhausted. He hadn't realised it before but now it came over him in a wave that left him lead-heavy. He raised his hands and ran them down his face. The muzzle was gone, a definite relief. He massaged his jaw where it had dug in and opened and closed his mouth, finding the movement painful after clenching his teeth for so long.

Something cold and sharp caught his skin but didn't split it. Bringing a tentative hand to his wrist he felt a band of metal, the surface etched and uneven. Runes? If they were he didn't recognise them. Uncertain movements told him that there was a band on his other wrist as well, the same engravings feeling cold under his fingertips.

He needed light; he needed to see where he was. He opened his eyes…darkness…and readied his hands before him. Barely audible, the incantation rolled off his tongue. Even as a whisper, the words grated in his throat as evidence of his long-held silence. He tilted his palm, the final word little more than a hiss as it passed his dry lips.

His actions were rewarded with a blot of searing pain as the bands on his wrists became impossibly tight, tearing a growl of agony from his throat and causing his pulse to soar. He thrust his hands before him, but he was still blind. The pain wasn't subsiding.

His breathing was ragged.

When a deep, helish voice snarled through the darkness, a shudder ran down his spine.

"You will wish yourself dead, Laufeyson."

~oOo~