Tony was rudely awoken by a blaring alarm, right in his ear. He groaned, pushing his head deeper in his paperwork pillow.

"Jarvis, I thought we agreed you wouldn't wake me up until twelve?"

"Yes, sir, you did order that." The cultured voice of his A.I. spoke.

"Then remind me later to stick you into a toaster right next to Dum-E." They both knew it was an empty threat.

"As I was trying to say, Sir, threat Level: 'Lean, Mean, and Green' and Prince Odinson have just landed on top of the Tower."

Tony jerked up, cursing. His chair toppled backwards, with Tony in it. "Why didn't you lead with that, Jarvis?" Tony looked around frantically, scrambling up. "Suit! Fuck!"

He leapt onto the donning pad and ordered his armor to fold up around him. It did, quickly and efficiently. He flew out of his workshop, zooming up to the roof. Loki probably was in full armor, destroying his beautiful Tower, oh! His new helipad stood no chance. Tony moaned in horror. Loki, crashing around his Tower. Loki, throwing Thor off the building and making a huge crater. Loki, completely obliterating everything!

His repulsors whined as they loaded to full power, pointing directly at.... a gagged, wrapped-up-in-enough-chains-to-look-like-a-Christmas-present-chained-up, surrounded-by-seven-guards, pretty-much-incapacitated Loki.

Oh.

Well.

Tony landed, his face plate sliding up.

"Well." Tony kept his eyes trained on Loki warily. "You're back." Tony wasn't sure if he was talking to Thor or Loki, but Thor responded anyways.

"I am, Man of Iron." Thor boomed. Tony discretely had JARVIS turn on the sound dampeners in his helmet. "Worry not, for Loki has been secured and can harm no one."

Tony's eyebrow raised ever-higher. "Let's talk inside," he suggested eventually.

--

Loki seated himself on the edge of the "sofa", as the Terrans called it, wary eyes watching the door and the Avengers seated across from him. His body was tight as a live-wire, ready to bolt at a moment's notice.

For the most part, the Avengers elected to ignore him, except for Barton, who kept his eyes on Loki while still listening to Thor explain Loki's sentence. Loki remained tense, however; he had not survived this long without being cautious, even overly so.

"So, Reindeer Games, what d'you do in your free time? Well, other than murdering and trying to invade perfectly innocent planets?" Stark suddenly asked, brown eyes snapping to green.

Loki scoffed. "As if I'd tell a puny mortal like you," He snarled, keeping up his ruse. At least, that was what he wanted to say. A red light enveloped his vocal chords and lips, forcing words from his throat. He nearly choked as they came out, against his will. "I am quite partial to literature."

Loki desperately tried to stop the pounding of his heart and his lungs from attempting to break the sound barrier. His words weren't his own, silver-tongue turned to holes, more like-

Stark hummed in acknowledgement. "Hey, JARVIS, could you download the entire Harry Potter series onto Reindeer Games' Starkpad?" Loki somehow managed to roll his eyes at the ostentatious name. "Ooh, and the Percy Jackson, Kane Chronicles, the like. Don't forget the one with Magnus, I'm sure he'd get a kick out of that." Stark turned to look at him. "You look like a reading kind of guy."

"I'm doubt you could figure out what I like, tiny ant that you-" Loki felt a yank on his chest, momentarily losing his breath. Blackness clouded the edges of his vision, and a sharp burst of pain erupted on his shoulder. "-are."

"You okay there, Rock of Ages?" Stark asked, leaning forward, ignoring the raised eyebrows of his team. "Don't want you dying five minutes into your sentence."

"What's the date?" Loki asked abruptly.

"Uh... hmm, JARVIS?"

"It is June 4th, Mr. Liesmith." Loki's eyes widened, and he cursed internally. Externally, however, he showed barely any sign of the turmoil he was feeling. That is, not until his mind was ripped away to another planet far, far away called Titan.

He stood on the rocky surface of the planet, staring at the back of the purple-skinned giant that haunted his every moment.

"It seems you have failed me, Asgardian." Loki said nothing, instead opting to stare at the ground just behind Thanos. "I gave you a home, a warm place to stay, two sisters that cared, and an army, and you fail me?"

Thanos turned around, gesturing with the Gauntlet. His piercing blue gaze settled on Loki and he couldn't stop his tremble. "We've conquered worlds together, you and your sisters and I, we've executed our goal on countless planets, bringing the universe's balance closer and closer to equilibrium. With the Tesseract, it would have gone much quicker. But now-now!- you fail me."

Loki's lungs forgot to expand and he choked, forcing words through heavy lips. "Father, I'm sorr-"

"Save it!" Thanos roared, face twisted in disgust. "Unless you can get me the Tesseract by midnight tonight-- and we both know you can't-- you know what will happen. You were warned, and I will deliver." With that Thanos waved his hand, dismissing him as if he were nothing but a fly.

Loki snapped back into his body, gasping and on the verge of a panic attack. Loki realized, a tad belatedly, that all the Avengers were staring at him.

"If you don't mind," Loki drawled, desperately trying to maintain his facade. "I'll be retiring to my chambers. I know JARVIS has several weapons pointed at me at all times, if you wouldn't mind?" Several missiles, guns and assorted weaponry descended from the ceiling, and Stark looked unrepentant, which was fair. "I'm sure I can walk to my quarters unescorted."

Loki stood, and walked out, cursing himself. He knew he couldn't give Thanos that power, not after talking with his daughter. But even though he knew giving up his life was worth the lives of innumerable, it still didn't make it much easier now that he had.

The instant he stepped into his chambers, a deep gash ripped open on his torso. Loki hissed, barely managing to shut the door behind him. Blood started soaking his shirt, and Loki ripped it off hastily, not wanting to stain it. Another slash slit open on top of the first, but perpendicular. Loki slid down the door, bracing himself against the hard surface. The barrage of pain stopped after another seventeen slashes, each getting progressively deeper until Loki could see his own intestines.

Wet gasping noises escaped Loki's throat, slick with blood. Loki traced a finger over the wounds, closing his eyes tightly, the gashes closing as the digit ran them over, sparking with seidr. On his abdomen, a long, puckered scar read 'traitor'.

--

Loki skipped dinner, preferring to stay in his room and meditate. His ba would take a long time to mend, he knew. And once it did, he would once again be able to clear his seidr of its bloodlust.

Loki's heart twisted in his chest painfully as his seidr growled at him, slavering, before retreating into the recesses of his mind.

Loki didn't quite manage to stifle his pained exhale.

It hurt him to see his seidr like this. Before he had found out he was a Jotunn, his seidr had been his mentor. His seidr was millenia old, much older than Loki, and whenever he meditated and focused on the energy thrumming through his veins, she would guide him on how to use her power more efficiently, helped him along when he was trying to figure out a spell. But now, when he meditated, all he saw were the scraps of his identity and the angry wolf-form of his seidr prowling in the shadows.

Wolves were both a blessing and a curse in his life, Loki reflected. Fenrir, trapped in his wolf form but so wonderful and gentle, Vali, transformed into a wolf and still alive, but the accidental murderer of his twin, and now his seidr, still restorable but with an uncontrollable bloodlust.

Breaking out of his cerebration, Loki slowly sank to the floor from where he had been floating, then stood. He strode over to his bags, deftly opening a messenger bag and pulling out some papers. Loki dug around for a quill and ink, as well as one of his larger textbooks to bear on. He leaned against the footboard of his bed, looking the documents over.

They were mostly all updates on the state of his province, Læunaria, with a few letters from various royalty and dignitary Loki had made acquaintances with. They mostly inquired after his health, asked for advice, and expressed their relief he was alive. He quickly responded to the letters, and approved his land-master's proposal to boost the production of wheat and rice, as well as provided a spell for replenishing nutrients into the soil without having to slow production for crop rotation.

But there was one letter that he saved for last- a letter from his son, Jormungandr. Jormungandr was not the only one of his children that was free, but the only one that could travel the Nine Realms at any given time.

Loki had known Jormungandr had been cast onto Midgard, and had spent three decades searching for him until he found him in the Lake of Loch Ness, in what the Terrans called the "United Kingdom". He had freed his sun-loving, free-spirited son from his chains, and while poor Jor would still lash out at the sight of chains, he was mostly fine with swimming now. A true son of the god of mischief, Jor enjoyed himself teasing the poor mortals with glimpses of his snake form in the lake. His exploits never failed to draw a chuckle out of Loki.

Loki opened the letter, smiling as a wave of happiness washed over him- a simple charm, but one Loki could no longer afford to cast. Loki gently turned the envelope over, and three small items and a piece of paper fell out.

The first object was a bottled ray of sun. Loki shook his head, chuckling softly. He popped the cork, and, for a second, he heard birds chirping, wind rushing through his hair, and Jor whispering, 'I love you, Papa," before the light faded and he was back in his cell at the Tower.

The second item was a scale from Jor's skin, about 5 inches or so long, a few inches bigger than they were when Loki had seen Jor last. It was bright blue, with swirls of green and purple.

And the last item was a picture of Jor in his human form- black hair and dark eyes wearing his trademark black aviator's jacket, holding a plane ticket... to New York? Loki practically tore open the letter in his haste to read it. Written in the Lokison family's secret code read:

Dearest Papa,

I know that your attack on New York was not your finest work. Or perhaps- and I feel this is a more logical explanation- it was. Who are you trying to fool, Papa? Why did you 'want' the Tesseract? Unlike those oafs on Asgard, I can tell when you're under duress. Papa, if you truly wanted Midgard, you would be its King by now, especially if you had the Mind Stone and the Tesseract.

I've talked to some of the Serpents and what they have told me has only confirmed it. But that confirmation only rose more questions. Why are you allowing yourself to be held prisoner by mortals, Papa? Where did you get that scepter? The Mind Stone? And where have you been this past year?

I think I know the answer, and if not, I am owed it, so I am coming to New York to speak with you in person. My plane is due to arrive on June 7th. As far as the mortals know, I am eleven years of Midgardian age. My 'guardian', either me, her, or an illusion, is Hela. She is listed as my elder sister, Bianca DiAngelo. She will also be attending, as she has matters she wishes to discuss with you.

With love as deep as the ocean,

Your Beloved Jor

Loki blinked. Okay. Two of his children would be coming to Terra to speak with him, and were the only people who saw his invasion for what it was- a farce. Loki flopped onto his bed and groaned.

Fantastic.

He loved his son, but he wouldn't know the meaning of 'subtle' if it slapped him with a flappy eel with 'subtle' written across it and tattooing it to his face. Hopefully, the mortals would find out nothing. He didn't need anyone finding out about he succumbed to simple torture, torture that Thor probably wouldn't have blinked an eye at.

Torture that still gave Loki nightmares, three years later.

Loki sighed, sliding the papers into a pocket in the bag that would send those papers to his desk in Læunaria to be reviewed by his chief officials. He glanced balefully at the bed, then at the clock. It read 1:34 AM, and he sighed, standing and stretching.

He brushed his teeth and changed, before peeling back the green covers- cotton, not silk, he had made sure. Then, he subtly changed the recording on the camera- which was easy enough- to show him slipping into bed.

But really, he opened his pocket dimension and pulled out the muzzle Thor had put on him earlier. He sighed, wrapping it around his mouth and clasping it at the back.

He needed something to silence his imminent screaming, and he'd rather not waste his precious little seidr on that, thank you very much.